Sam needs pain to cum- it’s an unfortunate fact of life, and Dean’s always loved pushing his limits.
Any other time, Sam would be irate, but, with Dean, stood looming over him- all leather boots and brute, sitting naked on the edge of a motel bed, he’s drunk off it.
Dean’s noticeably chubbing up in his jeans as he slaps Sam across the face with a whistle-fast backhand. Sam’s head’ll snap to the side from the blow, spittle flying and a deep moan tearing from his chest.
Dean’ll lean down and spit on that face, wet, cooling fast and gross. He’ll smear it in, wiping his slobber up Sam’s nose, into his eyelashes, his eyebrows and hairline. Sam’ll grunt, drunkenly chasing Dean’s rough palm across his face with slack, smack-numb lips.
He’ll pull back then, glowering down his own nose with a look of big-brother sadism. He’ll watch Sam’s cock bob and twitch under the glare, under the anticipation of more, when he gets the idea.
A punch, hard, winding and solid, direct to Sam’s abdomen. Big body jerking forward, curling around it with one of the loudest moans Dean’s ever heard from him.
He’ll punch again, even harder this time, barely letting Sam catch his breath from the first, and laugh at how the pre-cum dribbles and drools from his near-purple-with-arousal cock.
Dean spares a fleeting thought to the paper-walled, neighbouring rooms before deciding he simply doesn’t care. Let them hear; Sam’ll be horrified enough later for the both of them.
“Fuck- fuck- fuck- fuck-“ Sam babbles, reaching out and gripping at Dean’s forearm for respite, gasping for air. His jagged nails cut in and Dean watches quietly as Sam fights to stop his eyes from rolling back, from cumming untouched.
Dean likes to think he has a merciful streak- a trait Sam’s instilled in him over many a time and effort. So, with his free hand, Dean quickly pulls back and smacks Sam’s cock directly.
Sam screams as milky-white ropes shoot up from his tip, streaking the fist-shaped reds of his stomach, the bruising knuckles on the back of Dean’s hand, and just barely splattering atop his bare, heaving, sweat-slicked chest.
“Happy now?” Dean’ll say, letting Sam fall back onto the bed, mute, dazed, his legs and fingers twitching in the aftershocks, before wiping his dirtied hand off in the sheets and trudging off to the bathroom to shower.
a/n: this part was supposed to just be the build up but then I wrote the smut too so [18+] below the cut and be warned, I’m not so great at smut writing but I do love these two
The hand was back. The bloodied phantom hand...
The touch was almost intimately familiar as it wrapped itself around his palm, intertwining itself with his fingers and tugging at his skin as he reached for his cigarette again.
He had done a good thing. He repeated it over and over again in his head, it was the only way to rationalize this much destruction. He had done a good thing, it had been good intel from good men and now Gilberto Rodriguez was in cuffs, one of the Cali godfathers finally apprehended. It was a good thing.
But the guilt wasn’t gone, if anything, it had doubled its weight on his chest.
And the hand was pulling at him, scratching at his skin like silent nails on a chalkboard. It was dragging him down, sinking his hand even as it held tight to the burning cigarette.
Martínez was a good man, a much better man than he was and he could say that without any doubt. And he did one good thing, one good thing and they covered him in the dirt he refused to dirty himself with. He was a good man and Javi had to drag him back into all of this... he did this to him.
And he did it to you too.
“I’m impressed...” you had quietly made your way to his side as the president joined in on the discussion with the statesmen at the table. And he had been so naive, so high off the successful mission that he actually turned to you with half a smile and basked in your attention.
So fucking stupid...
“Didn’t think I had it in me?” He smirked back, reaching up to scratch his brow as you locked your hands into stance behind your back. It was a good looking pant suit on you, hugging you tight in all the right places, and just the necessary amount of buttons done up on your shirt, leaving just enough for his eye to lock onto. He was really feeling the win.
“No, I’ve never doubted your dedication,” you spared him a side-eyed glance but kept your attention most of the way pinned to the meeting. “Your ability to do it without me knowing? That’s impressive.”
He let out a gentle scoff from that, not enough to disturb the dense crowd of politicians around, but just enough for you. “I thought you didn’t want to know.”
“I didn’t.” The corners of your lips turned up as you looked towards him fully. “Still, impressive.”
The nod came easily but every element of a smile fell away as the confusion set in alongside the feeling of a slip of paper slipping into his palm, your fingertips gently gracing his skin as you casually slid it in. He tried to look back to you for an explanation, but you had already dipped out of the room, slipping away with the crowd as the meeting wrapped up.
Instead, his eyes found the paper and his breath slightly caught in his throat.
‘You break it, you bought it, asshole.’
It wasn’t your handwriting and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who would use you to pass a message like that. The stare from Stechner across the room was just enough to confirm.
And that wasn’t something he could let slide.
He exited the room before anyone else could stop him to condemn or congratulate him, following Stechner as he made his way down the elegant hall of the presidential palace. But he had a head start, so the best Javi could do was stay about fifty feet behind and it turned out, that was exactly where he needed to be to hear something he wished he hadn’t from around the corner.
“The best goddamn spy in this hemisphere and you can’t figure out what an idiot DEA agent is doing in the office next to yours?” Stechner was shouting as much as he could without disturbing the hall. And even though he couldn’t see you around the corner, he figured there couldn’t be anyone else Stechner would yell that to.
And your voice confirmed that.
“You like him so much, maybe you should sit outside his office—“
“Please tell me what I did to make you think I liked your smart mouth, so that I can stop doing it.” He shot you down immediately and Javi couldn’t help but let his eyes fall shut, a burst of shame creeping up the back of his neck.
A shame that grew to guilt as you kept talking, heat shooting back in your voice, “He doesn’t like me, he keeps me at arms distance, you think he’s going to tell me something he didn’t even tell the ambassador about?”
“I don’t expect him to tell you, I expect you to find out.” There was no hesitation in his voice, it was a stone cold order and Javi couldn’t help but peer around the corner to find you stood, headstrong against him, with your arms crossed over your chest and Stechner staring you down with an accusatory finger leveled to your chest.
“I came to Colombia for real work—“
“This is your real work now. Do it, or I’m sending you back to the hell hole I found you in.” Stechner left no room for discussion, turning away as soon as his order met your ears and heading back down the hall.
Javi took a brief breath, considering following you but by the time he turned back to find you, you were gone.
And though he knew you could handle your job, that this whole ‘tell me to leave the room and I will’ thing was your idea and you certainly had the skill to back it up, it was his fault. He did this to you and he did it to Martínez.
All for what? Catching Gilberto Rodriguez felt like a win but now, he was having trouble seeing more than a few feet ahead, certainly not any further than the glass in his hand or the cigarette burning out in the tray sat on top of all the files on his desk. What was the point in doing things the right way when the consequences felt almost exactly the same...
“Congratulations...”
Every muscle in his neck screamed as his head snapped to the doorway of his office and found you slouched against the frame, twirling a hair tie around your hands, one that had clearly been pulled from your hair as it all fell around your face. He couldn’t help but scan over you again, the same pant suit as earlier, still hugging you in all the right places and your buttons still only barely enough to cover your chest. He nearly groaned into the drink in his hand at the sight. But as he moved to disguise his distraction with another sip, he found his glass empty, forcing him to set it back to the desk and turn for a fresh cigarette.
“What for?” He asked somewhat absentmindedly as he reached into his desk drawer and recovered only an empty carton.
“You kidding me? Your whole department is out here singing your praises...” you hummed, wandering into the office, pouring a fresh drink for yourself and making your way to his desk. To his side of the desk, nudging a few files and a plate stacked with cigarette butts aside to sit against it.
Your knees knocked against his legs as he turned his chair to face you further and he was hit with a wave of something he didn’t want to quantify, finding you way too close and having absolutely no will to push you away.
“They asked me to come and get you to go out with them.” You continued on, taking a hearty sip from the glass then passing it to him.
“Why you?”
You shrugged, “I think they’re afraid of you.”
He took a meager sip from the glass before setting it aside, “and you’re not?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, not able to manage out much of one but definitely as close as either of you were going to be mustering in the somber office.
“I heard about Martínez...” you sighed as your laughter faded, reaching down to steal the final sip from the glass between the two of you. “I didn’t know him but from what I’ve read, he seemed like a good man.”
“He is.” He mirrored your sigh, leaning back in his chair to finally get a full angle of the sight you were, perched on the edge of his desk. “I overheard Stechner too.”
Your face fell at that, and with no glass to bury your gaze into, you actually had to lock your stern gaze with his. But it wasn’t stern, not like he was expecting it to be. It was soft, hidden beneath the steel cut to your eyes, but the same hidden softness that had drawn him to you the first night the two of you met.
The familiarity of it, the depth to it...
Nudging his knee with your leg, you pulled him back from his alcohol laced thoughts. “That’s not your fault...”
“Didn’t say it was.”
You quirked your head, brow raised in his direction, clearly seeing through him the same way he saw through you, or at least, how he thought he did that first night. If he could see the same weight behind your eyes, you could surely see it behind his. Or maybe you didn’t even have to look that far, if he looked just as bad as he felt, he was wearing it right on the surface.
“You should go tell my people I’m not going out with them.” He huffed, turning away from your legs and slowly lifting himself from his chair.
“You should tell them yourself.” You corrected but he just shook his head, careful to not touch you again as he reached around you for his suit jacket, not willing to subject himself to another tempting sensation. But you continued, “You can’t just go home and wallow in this.”
“Yeah?” His gaze was careful, following you as you got to your feet, coming toe to toe with him. “What do you suppose I do instead?”
“Me.”
His tongue ran along the inside of his bottom lip, searching your gaze for any hint that it was just your smart mouth talking and not you actually meaning what you were suggesting, but he couldn’t find any. He actually couldn’t find anything besides the parts of your stare that damned him to you the first time he laid eyes on you.
It was a stare that said there was something you wanted to ignore tonight as well. And it would just be a plain lie to say his mouth wasn’t nearly watering at the prospect of having you again, even against his better judgement.
Because even against his better judgement, he really was beginning to trust you, and he definitely already wanted you...
“Agent Peña?”
He snapped from your hungry gaze to the same doorway he had found you in, but found one of his agents lingering there instead.
“Yeah?” His coarse voice barely managed out.
“We’re heading out for drinks to celebrate if you—“
“I’m just going to head home, have fun without me.” He added in a voice you couldn’t help but smirk at, strained and no where near as strong as he could usually manage. But the agent gave a nod and disappeared, leaving just the two of you and the weight holding between you stood about a foot apart in a fishbowl of an office.
Your top button was practically begging to be undone as his gaze fell back to it and he didn’t even feel bad about lingering there, letting his hot breath blow from his lips as he racked through his brain for the will not to do what he was about to do. But he couldn’t find anything past the wall of liquor he had been slowly building through the night.
“My place or yours?”
--
He was equally as oblivious to the locks on your door this time as he was the last, all of his focus trained on the skin between your neck and shoulder and the all too distracting by the way your breath was shaking out of your lips.
But the gun in your waist band, he was all too aware of that this time around. The second you pulled the door open, he pulled it from your belt and discarded it on the nearby table alongside his own before moving any further.
Though the second the metal hit the table, he lost all control over the situation.
You turned yourself around and backed him up into the same wall he had pressed you up against when he was trying to forget the bloodied hand dragging him down. That hand was no where to be found now though, not when you occupied every inch of his thoughts, and he didn’t want it any other way.
“Fuck,” he cursed carefully into your ear as his hands moved for the all too distracting button at the top of your shirt. He took his time undoing each and every button, teasing his fingers down the center skin of your chest while you sucked a kiss just above his collar. But by the time he reached the final button hovering just over your belt line, your impatience reached an all time high and you forcefully threw the shirt off your shoulders and reasserted yourself with a searing bite at his jugular, eliciting another, “fuck,” from his lips.
“No please,” you dropped your hands to the growing length in through his pants, “take your time.”
“I think I liked you better silent.” He groaned into your ear before taking a nip at the top of your lobe.
Taking a step back from him, your hands pulled your belt through the loops of your pants and quickly tossed it aside, then moved to strip your pants off entirely. “You caught me on a really bad day...”
He scoffed, “oh yeah?”
In only your underwear and bra now, you pressed yourself up against him again and finally brought your lips back to his for the first time that night, swallowing an orchestra of mangled moans from his lips at the mere feeling of you against him, even if he was still fully dressed. As you pulled your lips back, your hot breath fell over his face and he couldn’t help but let his lips chase after you.
“Yeah...” you sighed out, lips brushing against his as you did.
He raised his brow in a brief challenge, sarcasm flowing from his lips to fulfill his desperate need to keep up with you that had only grown since the first day he really met you. “Do you want to talk about it?”
You shook your head and he nodded, grabbing you around the waist and spinning the two around to press you hard against the wall and lower himself down in front of you.
“Good.” He whispered against the small scar stretching across your thigh, leaving a gentle kiss before hoisting your leg up and over his shoulder in one effortlessly practiced move that you almost let take your breath away.
Almost.
You had to save the last of it for when his lips moved to the top hem of your underwear and worked his way down from there, far too slowly.
“Peña...” you moaned out as the pressure of his tongue grew against the black fabric between your legs. “You can take those off, you know that right...”
He pressed a perfect kiss to your cloth-covered clit and you moaned out once more.
“Javier,” He corrected, “and I know...”
But he didn’t plan on doing anything about it, at least not yet.
He pushed the fabric aside and laid his mouth directly onto you, lapping at you with the ferocity you missed as he stripped you down at a tantalizingly slow pace. And as he gazed up to you and found your head falling back against the wall, hands brushing your hair away from your face, he forgot all about the phantom hand and it’s haunting presence.
All he cared about was you.
Slipping a finger into you, your hands met the back of his head, pushing his mouth even deeper against you, and you finally let out a moan of his name, “Javier—“
He groaned against you, the vibrations catching your voice in your throat as he brought your closer and closer to the edge, a heat being ignited in your gut with every move he made. And hearing each and every sound you made only made him realize how much of a disservice he did you and himself that drunken night when he took you on the couch.
He wanted to spend an eternity with his mouth on you, he wanted to hear the sounds you were making for the rest of his life. And he didn’t have time to consider the consequences of such a dangerous thought.
His finger curled inside of you, brushing against something that sparked a new wave of electricity inside of you, forcing your hips to buck against his face. His hand, the one not thrusting in and out of you, moved to hold your hips back against the wall but it didn’t stop you from tossing under the heat of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers now that he pressed a second one into you.
The first night you had him, you had gone off rumors, confident you’d never come into contact with him again and happy to let him use you. Happy to be used by a man with his reputation for leaving after the fact. It was supposed to be simple, to be quick and easy. But it had spiraled miles out of your control.
This wasn’t just one drunken night anymore, this wasn’t a one-off fuck on the couch.
This was a man devouring you, this was a man on a languid mission for your pleasure. Maybe he was just trying to distract himself and maybe so were you but you knew you were gone and he hadn’t even actually taken your underwear off yet...
“Javi...” you cried out as you tightened the grip of your thigh over his shoulder, the wave of your building orgasm finally breaking and spreading a warmth throughout every atom of your existence as he tightened his own grip and kept you pinned to the wall while you thrashed against him.
You could feel this slick on his mustache trailing up your stomach, damp kisses littered all along your skin while his fingers finally worked to drop your leg from over his shoulder and pull your underwear off all the way.
But his lips didn’t make it much higher, not as they slowed to a stop along the gash just above your belly button. A scar several years old, so old you barely even felt it anymore, yet when he placed his lips, still slicked with you, onto it so gently, you almost swore you could still feel more than the scar tissue would allow. It built a pressure you had just easily released against his lips, and you were practically whimpering for him to do it again.
And he easily complied, finding another wound, this one from a bullet, just a few inches higher, right under the bottom of your bra.
“You going to push that aside too?” You asked out of breath, watching his lips stop just at the hem, his cool eyes pinned on yours.
“No.”
His hands wrapped around you and stripped it off of you with a perfectly practiced hand, leaving you stood naked in front of him, still fully clothed. But no amount of clothing could hide the bulging length tucked into his pants, desperate to get out of the constricting fabric.
The second your hands made it to his belt though, he caught them and pressed you back against the wall, this time with a much less forgiving thud. “Bedroom?”
“Yeah, I have one...”
He scoffed, directly into your face. But the smirk on your lips just grew. Your hand lifted to the back of his neck and drew his soaked lips to yours, letting the taste of you pour into your own mouth as his hot tongue grazed over yours.
“Do you want to see it?” You tempted against his lips and he nodded fervently until you grabbed him by his loosened tie and began dragging him back down the hall.
You fell to the bed as he backed your knees into it, but as you reached for his belt again, he pushed you away and did the work himself. First the tie, tossed aside, then the shirt, unbuttoned just as slowly as he had done yours. It wasn’t an intentional strip show, but with your eyes on him, scanning up and down as you laid back perfectly open for him on your bed, he felt an odd amount of pressure to preform. Or at least, to keep you wanting more.
But given the way you practically groaned as he began lowering his pants, he figured he already had you. And now he was ready to lose himself in you.
All thoughts about this being a bad idea, about who you were, about who you worked for, they were all gone. All he could feel was your mouth on his and the overwhelming pleasure he felt as his tip pressed just against your clit.
“Javi...” you moaned out once more and he angled himself up and pushed himself into you, all in one go.
His head dropped into the crest of your shoulder again, his own groans muffled into your skin while your hands wrapped tight around his neck, dragging him in closer. It was a broken sound, one you echoed back to him once he started moving, rocking himself in and out of you.
“Where’s your smart mouth now?” He cursed against you, wrapping one arm around your back and shifting you up as best he could to manage a new angle that had you clawing at his back and sat in his lap.
Your mouth made it to his neck, just hot breaths at first before you began nipping at the skin beneath his ear, your nails trailing across his back. You were handsy, undeniably handsy, your calloused hands needing to be everywhere at once, not that he minded, but he didn’t want to imagine the marks he was going to have riddling his back from this. Or along the length of his neck...
“You’re so fucking...” you didn’t have the breath to make it out so you reconnected your mouth to his neck as his cock hit the perfect spot again and again.
“Fuck.” He cursed out again as your teeth nipped his jugular once more before the flat of your tongue soothed it over with a firm lick. “I like your smart mouth.”
His forearm against your back pulled you in even closer, trying, no matter how futilely, to press you even further into his chest as he fucked up into you, not even letting your hips set the pace.
“Give me your hand” You spilled out breathlessly into his neck before pulling back to meet his face, jutting your chin up to his face. He didn’t understand the question though, not until you reached down for his other hand and wrapped it around your neck, then he understood very clearly.
It was a familiar hold on you, the same hold he had as you came around him on the couch. So he gave a tentative squeeze and you moaned out again, a strangled and desperate sound that sparked something else inside him. Something new.
Something so hot, that he just shattered right there and then.
He laid you back onto your own sheets and collapsed down onto you with something tantamount to a devilish ferocity, every thrust nearly splitting you in half, driving you into the mattress with absolutely nowhere for you to go, nothing for you to do but to take it. Though again, you didn’t mind, you merely arched your back up into him and threw your head back, his hand still keeping a grip on your throat, exactly where you wanted it.
Nothing has ever felt as good as you, not any of the nights he spent with any of the many informants he used to have nearly every night, not even the night he spent with you. This was a powerful build up, an overwhelming sensation that was going to drive him insane if he couldn’t have it again a and again and again...
His hips began to lose rhythm in his thrusts, and as you began to clench around him, he felt every muscle in his body begin to tense up.
“Fuck...”
“Javi...”
He stilled within you, crying out into your neck as he pulled his hand from your throat and maneuvered it down to your clit, rubbing your through your second orgasm as he tried to catch his breath. You caught up with him almost immediately, crying out again.
Rolling off of you, for the first time since he got back to Columbia, even since before maybe... he felt satisfied, entirely satiated and well, and something else he wasn’t too quick to name as he glanced back over at you, still fighting for your breath back.
In the shadows of the room, your turned to him fully, brushing your hair back but not coming close to brushing the smirk off your face.
“You going to dig through my purse and run again?”
He managed a half chuckle before shaking his head, “I was looking for a cigarette... and you wanted me to leave.”
“Yeah, I did.” You fell back against the pillows, reaching to your wrist for the hair tie and tying your hair back.
“Do you want me to now?”
You scoffed, sitting up and glancing over your shoulder back to him, “not unless you want to.”
And from there, before he could even comprehend the words falling from your lips much less form a response, you got up with a slight groan and made your way over the bathroom, or at least the door he assumed led to the bathroom, and his stare followed your hips the whole way.
“You’re welcome to join me.” You called from behind the door and no amount of ignoring could erase the sudden bolt of heat through his chest. He was used to familiar when it came to dealing with you. This was something else.
Something that was dangerously new territory for him.
But he got up anyways, following you like there was a string connected between the two of you. It should have felt wrong, but it just didn’t.
—
->tags: (let me know if I missed you or you want to be added)
Were can i find some of this creepy dominate Brahms ugh 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤juicy
idk but listen
brahms is bigger than you and he knows it, he manhandles you sm?? he watches you through the walls, following you around until you’re in an area w/ a fuckable surface and just goes to TOWN. he likes pinning you down and like,, just using you however he wants,,,,, oof 🥴
I try to take myself seriously when it comes to imagining myself with creepy Dom brahms scenarios but then again I'm stupid, stubborn, and IMPULSIVE so id pretty well be dead
bro i’m just a slut for imagining him overpowering you and just wrecking u
I feel like shit rn and I want to take it out on Blade so badly. I want to toss him around, beat him up, and make a mess out of him. I want him bruised and bloody; barely conscious when I actually get to fucking him. I want to cut him up so nicely and feel him tighten when I press on and drag my fingers along his open wounds. He's such a pretty little toy for me
im so fuckijn fucked iop my bf made me smoke a bowl & den drink a huge ass shot (i din even finish it😭😭😭😭i never drink) i feefl so fucked up & WE AINT EVEN FUCKIN YETTTTT HELP MEEEE
