Sam watches as Dean flirts with some rando at the library. His stomach twists, Burns with jealousy. They were supposed to hang out tonight. Guess the odds of that aren’t great now.
Fuck this. He’s not putting up with Dean brushing him off for some chick again. He knows just how to play his brother and it’s about time he starts using it.
2) snap at Dean about his stupid new gf when he asks what’s up
4) wait and reap (because if one thing is true, it’s that Dean can’t stand for Sam to be mad at him)
Two hours later they’re getting in the car, and he noticed Dean didn’t even glance back towards where the girl had been.
“No date tonight?” Sam asks, playing it chill. Maybe a little bit of attitude in there.
“Nah. Figured I’d hang with my little brother. How lame right?”
“So lame.” Sam replies as he smiles at the passenger window.
That night Dean has brought out a joint he had, shares it with Sam.
“What were you hoping would happen?” Sam asks. “With her?”
“Mm, Nicole? Oh I know exactly.” Dean says, exhaling smoke slowly. God Sam could watch that for hours. “Could smell her cotton candy lips from where I was standing. Bet they would’ve felt really nice...”
Sam scoffs. “A girl’s lips smell sweet enough, and that’s all it takes?”
“Well, it would beat being here, not getting head.” Dean teases. “And I never said I wasn’t easy.”
Sam reaches into his backpack next to the couch. Knows he shoved it in there somewhere...
“Well if that’s all it takes...” Sam closes his hand around what he was looking for, drags it out, and pops the cap.
Cherry Lip Smacker Chapstick. It’s no cotton candy...but it’ll have to do. Sam looks Dean straight in the eye as he lifts it to his lips and starts applying it liberally.
“Sammy.” Dean says, warning in his voice. Leans forward, creeping toward Sam’s side of the couch despite himself.
And there’s been...stuff. Between them. Kissing. A little bit of fumbling at each other’s crotches. But this is-this is blatant.
Sam’s tired of waiting, dammit.
He caps the chapstick, presses his lips together. Dean’s eyes flick from his eyes to his lips. He licks his own.
Sam crawls into Dean’s space, between his legs. Swipes the joint from Dean’s hand and takes a hit before putting it out and setting it aside.
“I may not be Nicole, but I figure...you’re probably still just as easy.” Sam smirks, smoke pouring out of his mouth.
“Fuck.” Dean just stares at him—at his lips. Swallows and then
still says nothing. It’s as if he’s been rendered speechless, all by the power of girly lip product.
Sam lifts an eyebrow, “Well?”
Dean makes eye contact. Then just sits there.
“You gonna pull it out or what, Dean? I’m not doing all the work here.”
Dean finally gets with the program, and Sam’s never seen his brother fumble so much in his life. And he fights monsters for a living.
Dean gets his jeans undone just enough, and then shoves them down a few inches with his boxers.
Sam’s mouth waters. His brother’s cock is-
“-so fuckin pretty” Sam breathes, tracing a finger along the shaft. Dean groans.
“Of course you don’t shut up during this either. You’re gonna kill me.”
“Or...you could find a way to shut me up...” Sam grins.
Dean grabs him by the back of the head and kisses him, moans at the tacky feel and strong scent of artificial cherry. He’ll never be able to think of anything else again any time he smells it.
Sam could get lost in kissing Dean. Dean really knows what he’s doing, and there’s a slight possibility Sam came in his pants the first time they made out.
Sammy’s always been a fast learner. Especially in things he’s interested in. So he gives as good as he gets, drawing little noises from his brother’s throat.
They pull away from the kiss, eyes still closed, touching foreheads.
“You’ll tell me?” Sam says, some nerves finally creeping into his voice, “if I’m doing it wrong or-“
And that’s all he needs to hear before he’s sliding down between his big brother’s legs. Dean wiggles a bit, so he can lean against the arm of the couch.
Sam licks the head of Dean’s cock and Dean thinks this isn’t lasting long at all.
When Sam wraps his lips around him, that perfect, cherry scented O sucking him down, Dean knows he’s not gonna last.
“Oh fuuuck me, baby boy. That’s. That’s real good.”
Sam gives a tiny moan and it sends sparks racing up Dean’s spine.
He directs as best he can while having his entire world rock on its foundation. Tells him “no teeth”, “use your hand when you can’t-yeah just like that”, and so much praise that Dean loses track of what he’s even saying.
But Sammy. Sammy eats it up—the praise that is. He’s moaning constantly, drooling so much that his hand is slipping through it where he’s working the base of Dean’s dick, and he’s destroying any and all blowjobs Dean may get from someone else in the future.
And Dean, he tries to stay still but he can’t stop his hips from pushing up just a bit. At one point he’s barely holding back from thrusting, and suddenly hands grip his hips like steel clamps. Sam looks up at him, shoves him hard into to couch cushion and growls, “stay.”
He feels the rumble from Sam’s throat in his thigh and in his balls, and that mixed with the command in his tone, and the strength and cherry red, swollen lips—it hits him like a current of electricity, surprising his orgasm out of him just like that.
Neither one of them are prepared, and he nails Sam right in the face. Streaks of come on his cheek and across his mouth and chin.
Sam looks shocked and Dean just whines. Then paws at his brother until he’s dragging him up his body.
“Jesus, that’s hot. Sam. You’re so fucking hot.” He slams their mouths together. Sam gasps and Dean takes full advantage, picking up his own mess around Sam’s lips and feeding it to him.
“Oh, Dean, I-“ Sam can barely get the words out between the onslaught. “Dean, please”
“I got you. Hold on, sweetheart.” And with no warning, Dean shoves his hand down Sam’s pants and starts jacking him mercilessly.
It takes less than a minute, and Sam’s shouting into Dean’s mouth as he comes all over his hand.
After a long silence, Dean mumbles, “Think I prefer cherry anyway.”
Sam smiles into his brother’s neck.
