Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Dean enters the kitchen and grabs two clean bowls. He looks around for the lucky charms. They're hidden behind the box of beer he bought a couple of days before. After finding them, he pours some into the first bowl and pushes it toward the open chair. 

As he pours some into the second bowl, a sleepy yawn comes from the hallway. He looks up, just as his younger brother Sam rounds the corner dressed in small silk shorts and a white crop top with a strawberry in the center. 

Dean feels his cock twitch in his jeans. He quickly looks away, clearing his throat. Sam rubs his eyes for a couple of seconds and sends Dean a sleepy smile. 

“Morn’, Dee.” Sam plops in the open seat, pulling the bowl toward him before grabbing the glass of water beside it and drowning half of it.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” Dean asks in his most normal voice. Not at all like he’s picturing those shorts pressed against his face while he sucks the wetness through the thin, flimsy fabric. 

He sits in the seat across from Sam before he can notice his little ‘big’ problem. 

Picking up the spoon, Sam dips it in the cereal and shoves a spoonful in his mouth, causing milk to drip down the sides of his mouth. “We’ve really got to have better conversation starters in the morning,” He cringes. 

Fucking killing me, here Dean thinks, but what comes out of his mouth is, “what is there to talk about at 7 in the morning?” 

Sam lifts a brow. “I don’t know. You’re the pickup guy. Shouldn’t you have convo starters?” He sends a judgmental look in Dean’s direction. 

“Well, aren’t you bitchy this morning?” Dean chews the mouthful of cereal in his mouth and tries to focus on anything other than how Sam would look with his come dripping down his face.

“Fuck-“ An involuntary groan leaves his lips. Sam looks up from his cereal with a frown. 

“What? Did you say something?” 

Dean clears his throat. “Nope. Was just thinking it was time for you to get dressed.” Sue him. He was used to lies rolling off his tongue. But when Sammy looked at him with his big hazel eyes and damn milk dripping down his pink lips…his brain shut down. 

Sam spoons the rest of the cereal in his mouth. Once only a few are left floating around, he jumps up from the table and hurries to the sink. Dean clenches his jaw to keep from watching his perky ass in those shorts. He curses himself for it even being a struggle. 

Sam is only sixteen years old. Dean’s twenty-two and has been Sam’s legal guardian since their parents died in a car accident. 

It was so dirty…not to mention wrong to want to fuck his baby brother against every surface in their apartment. It definitely didn’t help that Sam was born with a medical condition that made him have a vagina instead of a dick. 

Every night Dean pictured the young, untouched pussy stretched across his fingers, dick, and mouth. 

Goddamn it. I gotta get control over myself. 

Dean rubs a hand across the stubble on his face. He was in such a hurry to jerk himself off this morning that he forgot to shave.

Sam was fucking ruining him. He was bordering obsessed with his thoughts. But fuck…he didn’t know how to stop. 

“Who is that?” 

Dean turns at the confusion in Sam’s voice. He regretted it as soon as he did. 

Sam is bent over the counter, looking out the window at something. But all Dean can focus on is how tight those fucking shorts are and how small his waist is in that crop top. 

Dean closed his eyes, screaming at himself to stop it! Sam is his brother! 

Once getting control of himself, Dean barks, “stop being nosy and get changed for practice.” His voice is normal enough that Sam straightens and gives him a bitchy look. 

“I can be nosy if I want to. It’s my neighborhood, which makes it my business.” He turns his nose up at Dean and starts toward the hallway, hips swaying and hypnotizing his older brother without trying.

Once the kitchen is clear, Dean drops his head on the table with a groan. It rattles under the abrupt weight. 

Sam was going to be the death of him. 

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They’re in the car, headed to Sam’s cheerleading summer practice, or whatever the hell it’s called. All Dean knows is Sam is in a short skirt, a tight shirt, and knee-length socks. Since the moment Sam walked out of the door, sucking a damn lollipop, Dean’s been hard. 

A Loveless song starts to play on the radio. Dean drums his fingers on the steering wheel, glad for the distraction. Sam is in the passenger seat, texting away on his phone while licking around the sucker in his mouth. 

To sum it up, it’s their usual car ride.

“Oh my god,”  Sam laughs. 

Dean glances away from the road, catching a glimpse of the big smile on Sam’s face as he types fiercely. 

“What’s up?” 

Sam looks up from his phone like he just realized Dean is there. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just something stupid Cass sent me,”  He shrugs and plops the sucker back in his mouth. 

Dean raises his brows, trying not to seem too interested. “Like what?” 

“Umm.” Dean grips the steering wheel at the hesitation in Sam’s voice. Immediately, the green-eyed monster rears its head. Dean likes to think of himself as fair. Ya know? He doesn’t get jealous or clingy. But he didn’t like the thought of Sam not wanting to share something with him. Especially when he knows it’s from a boy. 

“Just something about how our new coach has a stick permanently stuck in her ass,” Sam giggles, returning to his phone. 

Dean nods. That doesn’t seem funny to him but whatever. He’s not going to make a big deal out of it. If Sam doesn’t want to tell him…then that’s fine. 

Dean glances out of the window. His jaw pulled tight. 

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Dean drives to a random burger joint after he drops Sam off. He knew there was no way he could watch Sam dance around in that skirt without popping a boner. 

“Ah, you’re my emotional support.” Dean stares at the burger in his hand before taking a big bite. 

He’s parked at a random store. His radio is on, blasting his classic rock playlist. He still has a while before he has to get Sam, so might as well make the best of it. 

After taking the last bite of his burger, Dean balls up the paper and tosses it in the burger take-out bag to throw out later. 

He cranks the Impala. It starts with a satisfying rumble that has a couple of people glancing curiously in his direction. Dean grabs his sunglasses from the sun visor and places them on his face. He smirks at a young blonde lady as he puts the Impala in drive and shoots out of the parking lot, tires screeching behind him.

[14 minutes later]

“Oh fuck,” Dean groans, brows furrowed in concentration as he plunges into the loose hole of the girl below him. 

He has no clue what her name is. But she was more than willing to get in his Impala and follow him to a no-name motel. Her face is buried in the sheets, blonde hair caught in Dean’s hands as he tugs on it. 

“Oh my god!” Her moans are obnoxiously loud. 

Dean clamps his eyes shut, driving his hips down harder. She’s clenching around him. Sweat is dripping down the middle of his back. His thighs are burning from the constant strain, and his balls are slapping against her ass cheeks. She’s dripping all down the condom. 

“Gonna come in your slutty hole,” Dean barks, slapping her ass. She lets out another obnoxious moan. If his release wasn’t close, Dean would have rolled his eyes. 

“Yes. I’m a slut!” She shakes around him, clenching his dick. 

Dean’s hips stutter. An electric current starts from his heavy sac and throughout the rest of his body. He lets out a low grunt before releasing into the condom. All the while, he’s picturing Sam lying on his back. His cheerleading skirt bunched up to his small waist, and his legs stretched as far as they will go, which is far since he’s a cheerleader. Dean’s dick gives a spent shot of semen as he pictures his come dripping out of Sam’s pussy. 

Fuck he wouldn’t even use a condom. He’d mark him from the inside out.

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“Hi!” Sam enters the Impala with a big grin and closes the door behind him. 

“Wassup.” Dean pulls out of the parking lot. 

Sam tosses his bag in the backseat. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his face, and his uniform is wrinkled. “Can we get something to eat?” 

Dean stops at the stop sign and reaches into the back seat, producing a tightly wrapped plastic bowl. “Figured you’d say that. So I stopped by your favorite rabbit food place and got some diet food before coming here.” He pulls into the lane while Sam scoffs. 

The bag rustles as he rips it open. “It’s not rabbit food! It’s just as fulfilling as those greasy burgers you stuff!”

Dean chuckles. “Whatever you say, babe.” He drums the steering wheel, waiting for the red light to turn. “Oh yea, I forgot to ask. How was practice?” 

Sam snorts. “You only want to know because there are girls in skirts. Perv’” 

If only you knew

“Damn, I bought you a salad and still got called a perv!” Dean presses the gas and taps his chest over his heart. “Gotta say, that hurts, Sammy.”

“You’re so dramatic.” 

“Says the drama king himself.” 

“Hey!” The sound of a fork angrily stabbing lettuce meets Dean’s ears, and he grins. “I am so not dramatic!” Sam shouts.

“No, you aren’t,”  Dean agrees sarcastically. 

“I’m not!” 

“Sure you’re not.” 

Sam starts angrily muttering to himself before he huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. The salad is forgotten in his lap. “I’m not talking to you until you apologize.” 

Dean shakes his head. “So you’re not going to talk to me unless I agree you’re not dramatic?” It takes all of his willpower not to laugh. 

The street that their apartment is on appears. Dean flips on the blinker before entering the turning lane and pulling into the street. 

“Sam?” 

There’s no answer. 

“Sam?” 

“Sammy?” 

“Babyboy?” That one gets a rustle. Dean smirks. 

Turning into the parking lot of the apartments, Dean finds a spot and shuts the car off. 

He turns to Sam, lips twitching at the sight of his arms crossed over his chest. He’s facing away from Dean, giving him the perfect view of his brown hair pulled back in a ponytail with a red bow wrapped around it. 

Dean wants to rip the rubber band out and replace it with his hand. He wants to drag Sam into his lap, pull his panties aside and get him so full of his dick that he's a blabbering, whiny bitch on it. 

Fuck

Dean grips the seats so hard his skin turns white. 

“Don’t be mad at me, baby boy.” He reaches out, placing a hesitant hand on the exposed skin from Sam’s short skirt. “I was just teasing ya.” 

Sam huffs. “Well, don’t. You always take it too far.” Dean can tell by his tone that he’s about five seconds away from forgiving him. 

“How about some apology ice cream?” He proposes. 

Sam slowly turns to him. He eyes him suspiciously for a minute before nodding. 

“Strawberry?” 

Dean has a flash of the crop top Sam was wearing this morning and clears his throat. “Whatever you want,” He agrees. 

Sam smiles. “Okay! Hurry up! I’ve been craving something sweet all day.” He hops out of the seat, short skirt flaring in the window. Dean bites his fist to hold back his groan. Sam gets his equipment bag from the backseat and peeks into the window. 

“Deee,” Sam whines, big hazel eyes giving him that undeniable puppy dog look. “Hurry!” 

Dean playfully rolls his eyes. “Hold your horses. I’m coming.” He gets out of the Impala, following close behind to keep perverts from watching Sam’s ass. •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••‣

Dean’s in the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of his favorite lounge sweatpants. Sam’s in his room changing out of his cheer outfit. Dean sets two matching bowls on the counter, followed by two spoons, an ice cream scooper, and their Ben & Jerry ice cream.  

Just as he’s scooping out the last spoonful into Sam’s bowl, he enters the kitchen. Dean looks up, only to quickly look away, clearing his throat when he sees what Sam’s changed into. 

He’s got Dean’s shirt on. It comes to mid-thigh and makes his thighs look lighter against the black fabric. Dean grips the ice cream scooper so tightly that he swears it bends a little.

Sam walks up behind him and glances into the bowls. “Yummy.” He licks his lips. 

Trust me, I know.

“Wanna watch something on tv?” Dean asks, his voice is a pitch too low, but Sam doesn’t seem to notice. 

Thank god. 

Dean had high hopes a good fuck would take his mind off his sick thoughts. But if anything, it was worse. Fuck, it was taking all of his will not to grab Sam, place him on the counter, and go to work eating him out until the ice cream melts and the neighbors bang on the walls for them to shut up. 

Dean licks his lips, staring at Sam’s thighs, picturing them around his head. 

“Dean?” 

He blinks, realizing Sam is standing in front of him, waving his hand in front of his face. 

“Yeah, uh, my bad.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Was deep in through.” 

Sam giggles. “I noticed. Anyway, let’s go eat this before it melts.” He starts toward the living room. Dean’s eyes have a mind of their own as they land on his perky ass. Dean bites his fist. Hard. 

He can see Sam’s ass cheeks bouncing under that shirt. All he can think is damn. Is he even wearing panties? 

“Dean, are you coming?” Sam hollers. 

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “You’re fine,” He tells himself. 

Grabbing the bowl of ice cream from the counter, he walks into the living room and sits beside Sam on the couch. 

Sam’s picked some random horror movie. As soon as Dean gets comfortable beside him, Sam leans his head on his shoulder. 

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[ A couple of weeks later] 

Dean is cutting the grass for his apartment complex. It’s a good way to get a good sweat without being held up in a gym. Sam seems to think the same as he settles on one of the lawn chairs by the pool. 

He’s in a damn bikini bottom with a white crop top that’s so thin Dean can spot his pink nipples. 

Dean tries to put the picture out of his mind, deciding to focus on getting every patch of grass. Sweat is dripping down his face and neck. His jeans are riding low on his hips, and his hair is sticking to his forehead. The girls by the pool don’t seem to mind the view. 

Dean raises an arm, wiping some of the sweat off. He hears a couple of gasps and turns to the pool with a smirk. Two girls are pressed close together, watching him with barely contained drool. Dean’s eyes dart toward Sam, who seems to be in his own world. 

There’s a heart-shaped sucker in his hand. Before Dean can warn himself to look away, Sam drags the sucker to his mouth. His tongue dips out, dragging along the sides of the heart shape before digging into the middle. He rubs it against his bottom lip for a second before he takes the whole thing in his mouth. Dean almost comes in his pants like a twelve-year-old when Sam hallows his cheeks. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His dick is tenting his jeans. For the sake of his sanity, Dean looks away. 

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“What are you doing?” Dean asks when he walks into the living room and sees Sam lying on a mat on the floor. He just finished cutting the grass. His skin is hot, sweaty, and itchy. The main thing on his mind is a cold shower. 

But of course, Sam decides it’s the perfect time and place to put on a pair of tights that highlight his camel toe, along with a skin-tight tank top. 

“I’m doing yoga.” Sam gives him a look. “Obviously.” 

Dean closes his eyes for a moment. “Since when do you do yoga?” 

“Since now,” Comes Sam’s quick response, close to bordering annoyance. 

Dean holds his hands up. “Okay, damn. Don’t bite my head off. I was just curious.” He eyes the way his legs are bent and clears his throat. 

There’s a brief silence before Sam speaks, “you can watch it if you want.” Dean almost passes out. Either from the heat from outside catching up to him or from how bendy his fucking petit brother looks. When he doesn’t respond, Sam eases into a split so easily that his reasoning for doing yoga makes zero sense. He gives him a confused look. “Did you hear me?” 

“Yep.” Dean is trying hard not to imagine that split happening on top of his dripping cock, but his imagination of not budging. “I think I’ll just get a shower. I smell.” He laughs awkwardly and starts down the hallway. 

[ 3 minutes later] 

After closing the shower curtain behind him, Dean turns the knob. The shower head sputters, followed by cold water plunging over him. He can feel the dirt and sweat dripping down his body. 

His mind starts to paint a picture. 

Dean’s at the back of the shower, leaning against the cold wall. He reaches out, feeling it, making the images in his head seem more real. 

Sammy’s on his back in the tub. The water is coming down on him from the shower head, soaking his white crop top and highlighting his pink nubs. His legs are spread open as far as they’ll go. His pussy is dripping, both from the water and his come. 

He’s got two fingers in his hole. It’s clenching around them, straining against the sudden intrusions. His hair is down, hanging around him as he tosses his head back, putting every porn star to shame with his moans. There are goosebumps along his skin. 

Dean’s stroking his dick so hard that his wrist starts to burn. He can’t stop. 

Sam picks his head up. His hazel eyes are gazing at him with that puppy dog look that never gets a no from Dean. He brings his hand to his lips, following along the shape with his finger before slowly sinking them in. 

A short gasp escapes Dean’s mouth. His dick is dripping on his hand. 

Sam moves his hand around, tracing the insides of his cheeks with his fingers. He drags them out. Slowly, making sure Dean sees the spit connecting them before breaking it with his tongue. 

Sam lets out a high-pitched moan that has Dean clenching his jaw and fucking into his fists so hard that he’s shocked he hasn’t fractured something.

As he’s licking his fingers, Sam tilts his head. The puppy dog look making him look more innocent than the picture he’s producing. “Don’t you want to fuck my pussy, Dean?” He asks. 

Dean comes with a shout, painting the walls in a thick burst. It sticks to the wall for a half second and then washes down the drain. 

He stands there, his breath coming out in short gasps. 

“Fuck.” He presses his clean hand to his eyes. “I’ve got a problem.” 

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They’re at the dinner table eating pizza. Dean has a beer beside him while Sam has a cup of water. Sam’s hair is freshly wet from getting a shower. He’s dressed in the silky shorts from the other day and a t-shirt that hangs off his shoulder, exposing his prominent collarbone. 

“What are we doing this weekend?” 

Dean looks up at the question, swallowing the mouthful of food in his mouth, before he responds, “what do you want to do this weekend?”

Sam deadpans. “Really? You don’t have anything planned?” He picks up a piece of broccoli, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“Where is this even coming from?” Dean scratches his head, wondering why Sam would care about plans. Usually, they just did whatever they wanted when they felt like it. 

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know…I was just thinking we could go to the beach or something this weekend.” He looks up from under his lashes. 

“Oh really?” Dean places his beer back on the table and wipes his mouth. 

Sam nods. “Yea. Doesn’t it sound like fun? I mean we never really leave the apartment unless it’s to eat or just drive around.” The more he talks, the more excited he gets. 

Dean stands up from the table to throw away his paper plate and paper towel. He approaches the sink to wash his hands while Sam tosses his trash and climbs on top of the counter, long legs swinging as he stares at Dean. 

“So? What do you think?” He’s practically holding his breath. 

Dean turns to him with a fake, exaggerated sigh. “Sure. I guess that sounds fu-“ Sam’s on him before he can finish the sentence. His hands are wrapped tightly around Dean’s neck, pressing his thin chest against his muscled one. Dean softens. His hands fall to Sam’s waist, and he feels the younger drag him closer until his legs are around Dean’s waist. 

Dean freezes for a second. 

Sam is so close to him. He can feel the heat coming from his body and smell the sweet scent of his perfume. Fortunately, thanks to the counter, Dean’s crotch cannot show its happiness at the proximity. 

They stay like that for a while before Sam breaks apart with a happy smile and claps. “Thank you! I need to go pack my bathing suit and sunscreen!” He squeals. 

Shoving Dean away, Sam hops down from the counter and scurries toward the hallway. Dean watches as he suddenly pauses and turns back around. There’s a weird look in his eyes. But Dean doesn’t have much time to process it before Sam rushes him. 

There are soft, plushy lips against him for about five seconds. Then they’re pulling away, and Sam is rushing down the hallway, giggling. 

Dean stands there with big eyes, wondering what the hell just happened.  

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Dean Doesn’t stress over the kiss. He figured it was innocent, just a way for Sam to show his appreciation. 

He’s at his computer booking a hotel room for their weekend beach trip. Sam’s words got to him. He was used to their routine of driving around and spending time together at home. He should have known that Sam would want to do more. See more of the world and experience things outside of their small town. 

Dean finishes on the laptop and ruffles his dirty blonde hair, suddenly feeling sluggish. It was too early to sleep. And honestly, he would probably just lay there for hours until he fell asleep. 

“Working out it is, then.” 

Dean pushes away from the desk. He stretches his arms over his head a couple of times before pulling off his old, ratty t-shirt and tossing it on the bed, leaving him in nothing but a pair of sweats. 

Sam said something about having a Netflix marathon in the living room, so Dean figures it was the perfect opportunity to play his playlist as loud as he wants.

Setting his phone on the floor beside him, Dean gets in the position to do push-ups. 

He starts slow, wanting to feel the familiar stretch in his arms and core. 

Before long, he’s hitting push-up number fifty-six, and his arms are starting to burn. Sweat is dripping off his face, slashing the hard floor below him. There’s a mirror in front of him. Left over from when Sam would parade in his room to check out his outfit. Apparently, Dean’s room has better lighting or something like that. 

Dean lifts his head. His face is sweaty and red. His hair is sticking out in different directions, looking as if someone had run their hands through it a million times. His arms are straining every time he lowers his body. 

Eventually, he grows tired of the push-ups and moves on his back, deciding to do sit-ups. 

Dean places his hands behind his head, thick thighs pushing apart, the gray material straining. His abs are prominent and taunt as he pushes himself up. 

[ 35 mins later ] 

Dean’s doing one-handed push-ups, and his body is coated in a heavy layer of sweat. But he pays it no mind. If anything, he likes the burn. Dean licks his lips slowly, eying the close to fucked out expression on his face. 

He lowers himself to the ground, his arms shaking but successfully performing the move. 

“Oh my god.” 

Something drops on the floor, and Dean looks up. Sam is standing behind him. His eyes are practically bursting out of his head, and his face is red. 

Dean finishes the last one-handed push-up before he pushes himself up from the floor. He approaches Sam, ignoring the feel of sweat running down his body. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean stops in front of him. 

Sam is staring at his chest. His face turns so red that Dean fears he will pass out. Dean’s pecs flex, an aftermath of the workout, and Sam lets out a tiny gasp that has Dean tilting his head. 

“Sam?” He waves his hand in front of his face. “Hello? You with me?” 

Sam blinks before dragging his eyes up to meet Dean’s. “What?” His voice is shaky. 

Dean raises a brow. “Are you good?” He steps closer with the idea of checking Sam for a fever. Sam just stands there, looking at him and biting his lip while Dean feels around his face. 

“Why is your face so red?” Dean drops his hand with a Tsk. 

Sam gulps. “No reason. I uh-“ he glances down at Dean’s chest. “Came to tell you I was hungry.” 

“Oh.” Dean glanced behind him, looking for his wallet. He notices the familiar brown material on his dresser and jogs over to get it. After digging out $40, Dean hands Sam the money and runs a hand through his hair, the feel of sweat starting to get to him. 

“Go order some dinner. I’m going to hop in the shower real quick.”

“Okay.” Sam’s voice is small, sounding like he is holding back from saying something. After one last glance at Dean, he hurries out the door and down the hall. 

Once alone, Dean closes his eyes, telling himself to behave. But the image of Sam dressed in tiny shorts and a bralette is too much for him to handle. 

Opening his eyes, Dean is faced with his reflection in the mirror. His jaw is clenched tight, and his eyes are a shade darker than normal.

The sweats he’s wearing leave little to the imagination, showcasing the print of his cock happily. 

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It’s the day of their trip. Sam’s in the passenger seat, sucking on a heart-shaped lollipop. He’s dressed in a tight green dress that highlights the dip of his waist and hips. 

“Can we listen to The Weeknd?” 

Dean raises his brows. “Should I know who that is?” 

Sam laughs. “Considering you’re old..uh, not really surprised you don’t.” 

“Old?” Dean scoffs. “Not a wrinkle on this body, baby boy. And the girls sure as hell don’t mind throwing themselves at me.” He runs a hand down his chest with a cocky smirk. 

Sam snorts. “You’re so full of yourself. Like, oh my god.” He shakes his head and uncrosses his legs, pointing his lollipop at him. 

“Don’t act like you don’t see all of this,” Dean continues, “I mean what is there not to like?” 

“Your attitude,” Sam answers immediately. 

Dean glances away from the road and glares at him. “Attitude doesn’t matter when you're as endowed as me.” 

A brief silence falls over them before Sam breaks it by laughing. Dean scowls. “The hell is so funny?” 

“You-You just said e-n-d-o-w-e-d.” Sam tosses his head back, his whole body vibrating from the force of his laughter. “Who even says that?” 

Dean clenched his jaw. “You’re such a priss ass. You know that?” He snaps. 

Sam ignores his words, continuing to laugh. Eventually, Dean's annoyance boils over. He reaches over, grabbing Sam’s thigh. His grip is enough to make Sam quickly sober. 

“That’s enough,” he says sternly.

Sam is silently staring wide-eyed at the hand on his leg. Dean grips the flesh there for a brief second before he pulls his hand away, focusing his attention back on the road. 

The rest of the trip is silent. Dean glances over, catching Sam rubbing his thighs together and biting his lip. “Are you cold?” He starts to roll up the windows, not waiting for a response. 

“What?” Sam snaps out of whatever daydream he’s in. “Oh. Uh-no, I’m fine,” He says, suddenly enamored with something outside the window.

[ 1 hour later ] 

They arrive at the hotel that Dean booked. Sam grabs his bags as soon as the car stops. They collect their luggage, and after Dean gives the key to the Impala to the valet worker with the harsh whisper of “not a scratch,” they’re in the lobby.

The woman, Mindy, greets them with a smile. “How can I help you?” 

Dean puts the luggage down to pull out his ID. “I have a room booked under Dean Winchester.” After checking the ID and confirming his identity, Mindy stops her key clacking with a wince. 

“What is it?” Dean asks impatiently.

Smiling apologetically, She hands back his ID. “I’m so sorry, sir. The room’s rented to another couple.” 

Dean feels Sam shuffle beside him at being called a couple but decides to ignore it. “What do you mean it got rented out?” Dean snaps, the long car ride finally catching up to him. “I booked it days ago.” 

Mindy nods in understanding. “I’m so sorry, sir. I’m not sure how this happened.” 

Dean clenches his jaw, doing his best to restrain himself. Sam tugs on his wrist with a smile. “Why don’t we just get a different room?” He suggests. 

Dean looks back at Mindy. She immediately understands and starts to fiercely type away at her computer. “You’re in luck, sir!” She looks up from the computer with a smile. “We have one more room available.” 

Dean sets his credit card on the counter. “We’ll take it.”

[ 20 minutes later ] 

They’re standing at the entrance of their room. “Of course, it’s only one bed,” Dean mutters sarcastically. 

Sam pays him no attention. After dropping his bags by the door, he runs toward the bed and flops face first. After a couple of seconds of his dress sliding up to barely cover his ass cheeks, he lifts his head with a smile. 

“Comfy!” He squeaks. 

Dean rolls his eyes, trying to ignore his fondness for the younger’s cute actions. “Glad you like it, prissy.” 

Sam sticks his tongue out at him and rolls over on his back. Trying not to focus on his tan thighs, Dean clears his throat, setting his bag down by the dresser. 

“Food or beach?” 

Sam sits up at the sudden question. “Beach!” He answers, jumping off of the bed. Grabbing his bag from in front of the door, he walks to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

Dean moves to the bed, checking the comfort factor. The mattress was too soft for him, but he would hold back his complaints since Sam liked it. 

A couple of minutes pass. 

The bathroom door swings open. Dean glances up, his throat immediately going dry at the sight of Sam dressed in a bikini with cherries. His tan legs seem to go on for infinity. Dean glances away, gritting his teeth and fisting the bed sheets. 

Fuck.

“So? What do you think?” Sam smiles. He holds his arms away from his body, doing a slow turn. “Do I look cute?” His voice is close to teasing. 

Dean bites his lip. “Yea, you uh- look good.” He nods in appreciation. 

Sam beams. “Awesome! I’m so ready to hit the beach. I swear it’s been forever since we’ve been.” 

Suddenly, Sam starts to pull on the strap of his top with a frown. When he spots Dean watching him, he pouts. “I don’t think I tied this tight enough. Can you help me?” He moves in front of Dean before he can manage a response. 

Dean stares at the cute moles on his back. Then his eyes take on a mind of their own and move to Sam’s ass. It looked too big for the bikini bottom he picked out, making his ass cheeks hang out the sides. 

Dean inhales sharply, shaking his head. Focus. Swallowing, he reaches out and undoes the strings of the bathing suit. Sam grabs over his nipples, giggling.

Holy shit.

Dean clenches his jaw. After tying the strings as fast as possible, he clears his throat and moves away from Sam. “Good?” Dean asks. 

Sam grins. “Yep.” Dean’s reminded of Sam’s belly button piercing as the shiny jewelry beams at him. “Can you stop gawking stupidly and get your trunks.” Sam places his hand on his hip, glaring at him. 

It’s too cute to be seen as intimidating, but Dean makes a show of holding his hands up. “Whatever you say, your majesty.” He bows before grabbing his pack and running to the bathroom, laughing at Sam’s angry curses. 

[ 35 minutes later ]

Dean dunks his head underwater. 

It’s cold, making his teeth clench at the new feeling. There are goosebumps all over his skin when he resurfaces. Paying it no mind, Dean runs a hand through his short dirty blonde hair and glances to where Sam is lying on one of the chairs. 

He’s wearing a pair of heart sunglasses, and there’s a book in his hand. Dean runs a hand down his neck to his prominent abs with a sigh. The water feels good against his heated skin, especially after the little episode in their hotel room. 

Sam was the definition of temptation. 

It was so damn hard to control himself when all he wanted to do was fuck him at every moment. 

He looks like a moaner. 

The type to sob on your dick from it being too much, and then beg you to keep going. 

Shit. Dean curses his thoughts. 

A holler catches his attention. Dean looks away from Sam. There’s a group of teen boys watching Sam hungrily. One slaps his friend's chest, and he nods. Dean can tell he’s close to heading in Sam’s direction. 

Not happening, asshole. 

Dean walks out of the water, nearly smirking at the image he’s creating. Sam looks up from the book he’s reading just as Dean reaches up and runs a hand through his wet hair, making sure to flex his arms. He’s far from being done when he sees Sam lower his book. 

Licking his lips, Dean glances away from Sam, showcasing his sharp jawline. It takes all his willpower not to snicker when he notices the group of dudes glaring at him. 

Sam rolls his eyes as Dean stops in front of him. “What do you want, dork?” Sam teases.

Dean moves his foot from the bottom of the chair and sits. “Do I need a reason to chat with my baby brother?” He asks. 

Sam stares at him in annoyance. “Yes.” 

“Oh really.” Dean bites his bottom lip, wiggling his brows as he moves his hand closer to Sam. “I think I got just the thing for that attitude.” 

His hands dart to Sam’s waist, tickling the tan flesh. Sam bucks against his hand, gasping and giggling. “Dean!” He’s nearly falling out of the chair in his haste to get away. “Stop! You’re going to make me pee myself!” 

“What was that? Keep going?” Dean smirks, leaning over him to get a good go at his ticklish sides. 

“Dean!”

Once there are tears in his eyes, and his face looks red enough to pop, Dean finally stops. Sam blows out a relieved breath, glaring at him with no heat. 

“You’re such a jerk,”  He huffs and moves to sit up straight in the chair. 

His hair is messy, hanging out of his ponytail. Dean suddenly glances down, his throat going dry, as he spots Sam’s top pulled to the side. 

Sam follows his eyes. A giggle escapes as he quickly fixes the material. He looks up, his cheeks still red from laughing, and licks his lips. 

“I guess you were too rough.” 

• ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••‣

[ Later that night]

“Oh, shit,” 

Dean drops his bag of beer. One lands wrong and starts spraying the carpet, but his eyes are too focused on the gorgeous sight on the bed to notice.

Sam’s lying with his chest pushed against the mattress, his ass in the air, showing off his commando choice under his small t-shirt. 

Dean can see his pussy lips pushed together from how tight his thighs are pushed together. 

“Sorry,” Sam gasps, glancing toward Dean briefly before he moves so he’s sitting with his legs under his butt. The t-shirt does its job for once, covering his private area. 

“Umm.” Dean balls his hands into fists at his sides. “What were you doing?” 

Sam blinks innocently. “I was just on my phone. I thought you’d be gone longer.” He shrugs, looking away sheepishly. 

“Right.” Dean stands there, trying to get his urges under control. 

His hands are shaking with the urge to grip that fat ass. He wants to bite his thick thighs, make him cry out, and shake against his mouth. 

“Are you going to pick that up?” 

It takes him a while to realize Sam’s talking about the spurting beer, and he jumps into action. Grabbing the bag, he hurries to the bathroom and takes the bad beer out, leaving it in the sink before grabbing some toilet paper and dropping it in the puddle of beer. 

There would be a stain, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when his sexy little brother was in the bed with no panties. 

Dean stands awkwardly by the bed, wondering how the hell he can hide his raging boner. Sam’s typing away on his phone, with one leg bent, making his shirt ride up to the top of his thighs. 

Sitting at the very edge of the bed, Dean stiffly picks up the tv remote and starts scrolling through the different channels. Eventually deciding on a sports channel. 

Sam makes a noise of complaint, and Dean turns to look at him, doing his best to focus on his annoyed expression and not his pouty lips. 

“Why are we watching football when we could be watching a movie?” He crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. 

“You were on your phone, which means it was my choice.” Dean sticks his tongue out, liking the flare of anger in his eyes. 

Teasing and arguing were safe. It took his mind off wanting to fuck him with his tongue. 

Sam reaches for the remote, but Dean quickly moves it away, far from his reach. Sam glares at him and tries again. Dean keeps moving it, laughing at how mad the younger becomes. 

When Sam has enough, he sits up on his knees and puts his hands on his hips, looking just as mad as he did sassy. “Dean!” He yells, “give me the remote now!” 

“What do I get for it?” Dean teases, wiggling the remote over Sam’s head. He tries to reach for it, but Dean quickly moves it away again. “Huh?” 

Sam crosses his arms over his chest, looking away from him with puffy cheeks. The sports channel plays in the background as Sam refuses to look at him. 

Eventually, when Dean sees the younger is determined not to give in to him, he sighs and hands him the remote. 

Sam immediately perks up, his sullen mood forgotten as he settles on some bad reality show. Dean almost complains, but when Sam moves so his head is at the foot of the bed with his legs on the pillow, his ass right in Dean’s view, he decides against it.

[3 A.M.]

Dean wakes to something soft shoving against his crotch. His dick is more than happy to come out of its slumber, hardening and filling out in his boxers

Blinking against the darkness in the room, it takes him a while to figure out what’s going on. But when he does, he has to bite his lip to hold back his groan. 

Sam’s got his back to him. His arms are draped over his head, his messy hair covering the tan skin. 

He’s sleeping with the top of his body stretched to the side, while his ass and legs are pushed back. Right against his older brother’s crotch.

Dean throws his head back, biting the pillow and gripping the mattress to keep himself under control. 

Fuck. Oh fuck. He’s not wearing panties.  

His dick is pushing against his sweats, dripping against the soft cotton. Sam suddenly pushes back hard, and Dean clenches his eyes. He’s biting his lip so hard that it starts to bleed, feeding his taste buds a metallic taste that should calm him, but no, it does nothing.

“Mhm,” Sam sighs happily. 

Dean allows himself to calm down, thinking it’s fine, he’ll just move away and go back to sleep. But then Sam starts moving his hips around, grinding his ass against dangerous territory. 

“I fucking ca—“ Dean breathes out slowly, using his hand to carefully lift himself from the bed. His dick is screaming at him, wanting his younger brother's hot pussy to be the answer. 

He allows himself one last glance, watching how he continues to move his hips around, searching for something to grind against, and then runs for the bathroom. 

Dean eases the door shut behind him. Once he’s safely hidden from his brother’s view, he tugs his sweats and boxers down in one go. His dick is angry looking. The veins popping out, close to asking, why not just give us what we want? 

He catches his reflection in the mirror. He looks like he just smoked or drank a pint of liquor. His eyes are bloodshot and drooping. But there’s a predatory glint that screams for a chance. 

“Goddamn.” 

His fist is rough against his flesh. He’s dripping so much that there’s no need for lube or lotion. He’s got one hand on the counter, holding himself up as he fucks into his hand. 

He wants his brother's pussy so badly that it makes him salivate. Because, damn, he knows it’s tight and warm. He knows it’s going to clench him just right and that his ass is going to jiggle from how hard he hits it. 

Shit, he wants to suffocate in his thick thighs. 

His thoughts have him coming on his hand sooner than normal. Dean refuses to catch his reflection in the mirror. He’s too ashamed. 

After washing and wiping his hand, he returns to the bedroom. Sam moved over a bit, giving him more room on his side. Dean sends a silent thanks to the gods because at least he doesn’t have to think about that ass being that close. 

• ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••‣

[ 1 week later ]

Sam’s laying on the floor of the living room. There’s a pink lollipop between his lips and he’s sucking on it like he’s imagining something a lot thicker and longer.

He’s wearing a pink skirt that stops a little past his ass, fishnet leggings, and a pink crop top with cherries. 

“Why are you on the floor?” 

Sam looks up, moving his curly hair from his eyes so he can see better. “Why do you care?” The attitude is enough for Dean to raise his brows. 

Flipping over on his stomach, Sam leans his head on his folded forearms. He moves the sucker from his mouth, using it to point in his direction. “Do me a favor and bring me some ice water, please, and thank you.” 

“I’m about to give you something.” Dean flexes his fingers with a smirk, “that’s going to take care of that attitude.” 

“Oh my god.” Sam makes a big show of exaggeratingly rolling his eyes. “You’re so annoying.”  He suddenly starts swinging his legs, one moving up to his ass, while one moves down.

“Why are you acting so bitchy?” Dean drops on the couch, sitting in his usual way, manspreading to his heart's content. “The sugar making you angst or what?” Sam slaps his foot, getting a snicker from Dean.

“I’m not acting bitchy,” Sam snaps. “All I did was politely request ice water.” He rolls over onto his back, bending one leg and laying the other straight. “You’re the one making a big deal.” 

His skirt is short enough for Dean to make out the skinny straps of his thong. He tosses his head back with a silent groan. If Sam notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moves on his knees with his thighs spread. 

He’s sucking on the lollipop again and staring at his older brother with puppy eyes. 

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was doing this shit on purpose.  

“Were you really going to spank me?” His voice is a bit shaky. 

Dean can’t make out if it’s nerves or something else. To hide his sudden boner, he adjusts, so his elbows are on his lower thigh with his hands folded over his knees. His head is hanging toward the floor, his eyes clamped shut to get control of himself. 

“No, Sammy,” he manages to get the words through his clenched jaw, “I wasn’t going to spank you.” 

But I fucking want to. 

“Oh,” there’s disappointment in his voice. “You could if you wanted.” He adds, and Dean’s neck pops from how fast he lifts his head. 

Sam hollows his cheeks around the sucker. His lips are shiny and red as if he put lip gloss on just for this moment. He places one hand between his spread thighs and tilts his head. 

“I’ve been a bad boy,” He whispers. 

He pulls the sucker from his mouth and bites his bottom lip. His hazel eyes are hazy with need. It takes Dean by surprise, and he sits there, just staring at Sam, hoping he didn’t hear wrong. 

“You want me to spank you?” Dean asks shakily, his hand gripping the bottom of the cushion. Sam swirls his tongue around the round-shaped lollipop. It’s bright red, just like his lips. 

“Don’t you want to?” 

If this is a damn dream, I swear to god…

“Bend over my knee. Ass in the air with the skirt pushed up.” Dean orders, barely restraining himself as Sam hurriedly gets up from the floor. He places himself over his knee, legs pushed together, and reaches back, bunching the skirt to his lower back. 

“Fuuuuck.” 

Dean can’t help himself. He smacks his ass hard. Just to see it jiggle. Sam giggles, shaking his ass teasingly. It’s a lighter shade of tan than the rest of his body and too thick for the skinny straps of the jeweled thong.

“Mhm, do you like my panties?” Sam glances over his shoulder, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. His hair is flipped over his face, making him look like the picture of sin. 

Dean trails his finger over the shiny jewels. They come up to Sam’s hips, leaving their shape on his soft skin. He looks so fucking sexy in it that his cock is leaking in his pants, ruining yet another pair. 

“Don’t speak unless I tell you to.” He slaps his ass again, and Sam whimpers, squeezing his thighs together. Dean rubs his ass cheek, loving how it shakes in his grip. 

“I'm giving you 10 swats. And you’re going to count each one. Are you going to take it like a good boy?” His tone has taken a strict tone. One he’s never used. 

“Yes,” Sam whispers. 

He sounds wrecked despite Dean doing nothing. It makes that wild, dark side of him smirk in achievement. Dean brings his hand down. Hard. Just to hear the smaller gasp. 

Sam bucks against his hand, seeming surprised at the harsh tap. His ass is slowly turning a red color. Dean wants to leave his handprint so that when Sam wears his tiny skirts, people will see his mark and know he belongs to him. 

“One.” His voice is a pitch higher, and his thighs are already shaking. 

Dean bites his lip, landing a blow on the opposite cheek. Sam shouts, his entire body tensing up. 

“Two.” 

By the time they reach nine, Sam is a whiny, gasping mess over his legs, and Dean’s fucking loving it. His ass is bright red. A shade that goes well with his shiny jewels. 

“Last one, baby boy,” Dean reminds him. 

Sam answers with a shaky whine that makes the older wish to see his face. Bringing his hand down one last time, he makes sure the smack is a bit harsher than the last. 

He wants him to have trouble sitting. And when he hops up, wincing and rubbing his ass, Dean wants him to remember that he did it. He wrecked his fucking ass with one hand.

“Ten,” His voice is tense. Dean fears he’s hurt him. He opens his mouth, preparing an apology, but Sam suddenly spreads his legs, and he’s stumped. 

All he can focus on is the big wet spot on the white lace covering his pussy. “Oh shit. You’re going to fucking kill me, baby boy.” Sam gives something between a mixture of a giggle and a whine. The sound makes Dean’s cock stir.

Dean spreads his legs further and uses his finger to trail from the underside of his ass to his pussy. Sam gasps, closing his thighs around his hand. 

Dean slaps the back of his thigh, and Sam quickly spreads them again. 

His finger trails softly over the bulge of his click. It’s soaking wet, making the cotton stick to it. His cunt is so small, that Dean imagines trying to shove the head of his cock in, wondering if it would fit or if he would have to force it inside. The thought has him breathing heavily. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Sam starts. Dean glances up in confusion, despite not being able to see his face. Sam continues, “it just felt so good.”

Dean presses his finger over his small hole, groaning as the cotton gives away, and his cunt tries to swallow it up. “You came from having your ass spanked,” Dean says. 

Sam whines in embarrassment, despite starting to rub himself against Dean’s finger. The attempt is so desperate that Dean groans. 

“I swear to god, Sam. You got me so fucking hard I can’t even get my thoughts straight,” He admits. 

Given the way Sam starts whining and moving up and down faster on his finger, he likes hearing it. It’s taking every bit of his willpower not to shove that tiny thong aside and leave his name inside his walls. 

“Please.” Sam let’s put a high-pitched whine. “Fuck me. Lick me. Finger me. I don’t care. I just need you right now.” 

“Fuck, Sam.” He’s breathless, just a shell of a man, as his younger brother suddenly gets up and spreads his shaking, thick thighs over his lap. 

His eyes are watery, and Dean can see the tear marks on his cheeks. His lips are puffy and bright red, showing how much he’d been biting on them. 

“Please, Dee.” 

His dick jumps as Sam suddenly takes his finger and brings it under his skirt. All Dean can feel is hot, wet flesh before a tight hole is clenching around his finger. It’s so soft and wet, that he almost comes in his pants. 

Sam’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His mouth is open wide. The red gloss smeared across his skin. His thighs are jiggling as he moves up and down on the finger. 

One finger is not enough. Dean can tell from how he whines and starts circling his hips. He can’t take it anymore. Everything is so hot and wet, and his brother is so whiny. 

He just can’t. 

“Lay on your back.” his voice is strained. But Sam immediately follows the command, spreading his legs once he’s settled and watching Dean with needy, watery eyes. 

Dean grabs his dick through his joggers, palming the leaking artery a split second before he drops to his stomach. His face is inches from the inside of his younger brother’s skirt. 

Sam’s breath hitches. His legs squeeze shut briefly and then open back up. Dean can nearly smell the sweetness under the soaking wet thong. 

“Gonna fuck you with my tongue, baby,” Dean promises him. 

Sam mewls, watching desperately, as he moves closer. Dean wants to take it slow, sink his teeth in his thighs until he’s suffocating in his thighs. But he pushes it back. Right now, all he needs is this tight pussy on his tongue, pulsing and feeding his taste buds.

Bunching his skirt up, he wastes no time spreading his tongue against the middle of his panties. Sam gasps, legs immediately closing around his head. 

Dean smirks. 

A particular harsh swipe has Sam reaching down and clutching his head, shoving him closer. Dean uses one of his hands to move Sam’s leg, giving him more access. 

He doesn't pull his panties off. He just moves the flimsy fabric aside and dives in. His click is moving with the movement of his tongue. It’s so wet that his face is shiny with it. 

Sam’s gasping and writhing above him. His hand is tugging harshly on Dean’s hair, emitting groans from the back of his throat. 

“I’m coming!” 

He’s screaming when he forces his tongue inside his hole. 

It’s twitching around his tongue. 

All his senses are overwhelmed with the smell and the taste. 

An abrupt tingle starts in the base of his cock, and he’s reaching down, shoving his hand into his pants while the other grips the thick thigh by his face. 

Sam’s fucking himself on his tongue. 

His release brings another burst of savory sweetness. His legs are clenching around his head so tightly, that all Dean can understand is this tight pussy spazzing for him.

“Dean!” 

It’s the shout of his name that has Dean shooting across his hand. 

• ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••‣

They never talk about it, and it comes and goes. Whenever one’s horny, they go to the other. Dean doesn’t mind, because, fuck his baby brother is sexy as fuck when he’s whining all over his dick. 

-

“Shit. You’re taking me so good, baby boy.” 

Sam whines in response, too busy moving his hips on his big cock to form a coherent sentence. Deans got his hands behind his head, watching his dick bulge in the younger’s flat stomach. 

His eyes catch sight of his white thigh-high socks, and he swears silently.

“Too big.” Sam reaches forward, bringing his hands to the middle of Dean’s chest, and starts moving his hips faster. The bed is shaking from how hard he’s moving on top of him. 

Sam’s head is lowered, making his brown hair hung around his face. His nails are digging into the flesh of his chest, but all Dean can focus on is the ‘slap’ ‘slap’ of Sam’s thighs on his and how damn wet his pussy is. 

“Goddamn,” Dean curses. 

Sam’s breathing is so hard that he can feel it on his skin. 

They’re sweating in the small room. 

It smells like straight sex with an underlying sweetness of cherry from their lube. 

Sam suddenly looks up, and Dean’s dick twitches from inside of him. 

There’s drool at the side of his puffy lips. He’s crying, but his hips are still moving, circling and lifting off and back on. He’s gasping between high-pitched moans. 

Dean brings his hand to his face, using his thumb to wipe away the drool before holding it in front of Sam’s mouth. He happily takes the digit, soaking it with his too-wet mouth. 

He’s gasping around his finger, and Dean’s so close to blowing his fucking load that all he can do is thrust his hips up, fucking into him so hard that a sob leaves Sam’s lips. 

Pulling his hand away, Dean nudges Sam’s head up. “Do me a favor and get off for a second.” Before he can manage a complaint, Dean quickly adds, “I want you to give me the reverse cowboy.” 

Sam reluctantly lifts himself off his dick. His thighs are shaking. Badly. And after a quick turnaround, he’s easing back on it with a needy moan. 

Dean’s cursing and bucking into him, because Sam’s taking him so damn good, that it forces his mind blank.

His ass is so thick that it’s jiggling, teasing him with every circle of his hips. 

His dick starts pulsing, shooting his load deep into his brother’s open pussy. 

Sam’s shaking around him, hips tensing as he comes on his big brother’s dick. 

• ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••‣

“Mhm.” Sam’s slobbering all over him. 

Dean grips his hair, fucking his mouth the way he likes. Sam’s swallowing around his dick and gagging. There are tears in his eyes, but he’s still trying to shove his head the rest of the way down. 

“You like that big cock don’t you?” Dean pulls back, wrapping his hand around his dick, using it to rub his precome on Sam’s lips. 

His tongue is shooting out, trying to lick at it, but Dean keeps teasingly moving it away. That only lasts for a couple of seconds, and then he realizes Sam’s still moaning and shaking. 

He glances down, fisting his dick to keep from shooting across the room, as he catches sight of Sam’s fingers buried to the hilt in his cunt. 

Sam knows he’s watching and adds another finger. 

“Shit.” 

Dean starts jerking himself off, groans and grunts leaving his lips, joining his brother’s high-pitched moans. 

• ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••‣

He’s holding the bed frame, making it shake as he braces himself. 

Dean’s gripping his ass tightly, moving his tongue wildly against his clit. Sam’s sobbing from on top of his face. His pussy is smaller than Dean’s mouth, making it perfect to suck and swallow. 

“You’re going to make me come!” Sam gasps. 

His hips are shaking so badly, that Dean sucks on his clit, just to feel him jump. 

Slapping his ass, Dean pulls the stretchy skin, loving how it doesn’t fit in his hand. 

Sam starts to lose control of himself. Giving in to the feeling as he begins riding his mouth. Dean’s giving encouraging grunts, knowing he’s close to creaming in his mouth. 

He brings one of his hands forward, lining it up with his small hole, and shoves it in. He’s still mouthing at his clit, drinking in his unique taste. 

“Oh—“ the bed makes a loud squeak as Sam abruptly comes on his brother's tongue. 

There are a lot of cries and gasps coming from him as Dean teasingly rubs his clit. 

“Did you like that, baby boy?” 

Sam giggles, looking down at him. “Yes.” 

Placing a kiss on his pussy, just to hear him gasp, Dean moves away. He grips Sam’s face, forcing his mouth on his, making him taste himself on his tongue. 

When they pull back, Dean teasingly bites his lip. Sam watches him with hazy, dark eyes, looking seconds away from a long nap.

“Wanna suck big brother’s cock?” Dean whispers, gently rubbing his face. 

Despite his obvious exhaustion, Sam nods and quickly moves down to the middle of the bed. 

[ 10 minutes later ] 

Dean’s cursing and holding on to the mattress to keep from fucking Sam’s throat. 

He looks so sexy in his strawberry crop top with no panties. He’s mouthing his cock lazily, dragging it into his mouth and sucking it, before taking it back out and licking it. 

A brief flash of him doing the same thing to his lollipops appears in his head, and Dean laughs. 

Sam shoots him a questioning look. 

“I was just thinking about your obsession with lollipops,” Dean tells him. 

Sam rolls his eyes and pulls his mouth away from his dick, settling with using his hand to rub it up and down. “You’re laughing, but the whole time I was sucking that lollipop, I was imagining your dick.” 

Dean choked, either from his brother suddenly sucking his dick down his throat, looking sexy as sin. Or from his thoughts being confirmed. 

The hot little bitch knew what he was doing to him. 

“I should spank your ass,” Dean gasps, throwing his head back at the thorough sucking on his sensitive tip. 

“Mhm.” Sam slaps his dick across his lips, staring innocently at him. “Don’t tease me with a good time, daddy.” 

Dean’s cock gives its last jump, and Sam holds his red tongue out, eyes big and teary, as his come coats it. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot.” 

The end: Thx for any reads! 🤍