Kiss Me With Your Mouth Part 2 (Sam/Dean)

[justinedelarge]

Title: Kiss Me With Your Mouth Part 2 (Got a Real Pretty Mouth)
Author: justinedelarge
Summary: Dean uses the new knowledge of Sam's fascination with his mouth.
Pairing: Sam/Dean 
Ratings: NC-17
Word Count: 1,750

(Yes, there will be a part 3. And a part 4. At least.)

Got a Real Pretty Mouth

Dean didn’t need to reduce Sam to a quivering mass, begging for anything, everything, because his ego demanded it. He didn’t get off on taking control away from Sam, or seeing his tall, strong, capable brother rendered defenseless and vulnerable. That wasn’t it at all.

Dean needed it because in his bones, he knew he wasn’t worthy of Sam. Sam, who was light and warmth and everything about this life that was good. Sam, who somehow retained a core of sweetness and love despite the epic metric tonnage of shit that had landed on him since he turned six months old and had never stopped piling up. Sam, whose bone structure and well-developed muscles epitomized the ideal proportions of Greek gods, whose face made women stop dead in their tracks, whose hair drove teenage girls crazy, whose mind was keen and inquisitive, who was capable of loving with a ferocity that literally stole Dean’s breath away.

Dean knew Sam would never leave. He knew that. But sometimes he worried Sam might be “with him” with him because he was stuck at his side, stuck with his pain-in-the-ass big brother, thrown together by fate so tightly that he couldn’t have anything or anyone else.

But if Dean used every ounce of his astonishing talent to make Sam come apart, render him crazy and incoherent with desire, make him give himself to Dean like he’d never done with anyone else ever, make him come so hard it seemed like his body would fly apart, make him ache for Dean’s touch during the day, desperate for it at night… then Dean could believe he had earned Sam. It was only when Sam trembled beneath him, begging with every breath of air in his lungs, his need stoked to the breaking point, that Dean felt truly secure. Because he knew in that moment, knew without a shred of doubt, that Sam only wanted him. Wanted him more than anything. And he knew that he could deliver. He wouldn’t let Sam down. He could give Sam every bit of what he needed and then some, and Sam would stay because he wanted to, not because he had to. And when Sam shuddered in his arms afterwards, whispering broken phrases of love and devotion like prayers on the lips of a saint, then… then Dean knew, knew without a shred of doubt, that Sam truly loved him.

So this new discovery of how Sam had a real thing for Dean’s mouth…this was a godsend. He could use it to keep Sam on a constant simmer all day, just by little things. Just by talking to a lead, letting Sam hang back and watch his mouth. And all it took was him making eye contact with Sam while chewing his lip thoughtfully or sucking the blood from a cut on his finger to bring that simmer up to a boil. And Sam would fall on him when they were safe in the car, grab him by the lapels of his suit, drag him close and kiss him like a drowning man breaking the surface of a wave.

After the pierogi incident, where Sam went fucking crazy from Dean licking the butter from his lips, Dean made a point of eating messy food, fried fish with tartar sauce, fries with ketchup, anything that would smear across his mouth as he ate and make Sam white-knuckle his beer.

At a truck stop in Des Moines, Dean ordered for them while Sam went to wash up, and made a point of asking the waitress for tons of mayo on Dean’s BLT. Dean crunched into the sandwich, and the first thick glob of mayonnaise oozed out onto his mouth.

Sam’s cheeks flushed red instantly. “Dude. Really? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Dean licked off the mayo and stared at Sam steadily.

“Something wrong, baby boy?” Sam squirmed in his seat, dropping one hand below the table, and Dean knew he was palming his erect cock.

“Uh-uh. Hands where I can see them, Sam.”

“Sadistic bastard.” Sam looked legitimately pissed, but did as Dean said.

“You know it.” Dean took another bite, and a dollop of mayonnaise squirted onto his lower lip.

“Oh, come ON, Dean, that’s… that’s fucking obscene.”

Dean blinked at Sam, slow and languid, and leaned across the table, pouting his lips out just a bit. “Whattaya say, Sammy, gonna clean me up?”

Frank desire flashed across Sam’s face, and Dean’s heart stopped at the thought that Sam might really do it. This was followed in short order by a crashing wave of embarrassment flooding across Sam’s features (Dean made a note to himself to feed the emerging seedling of Sam’s exhibitionist kink), and then a truly epic bitchface. “Dean. I’d die for you. Hell, I have died for you. But I am NOT going to lick mayonnaise off your mouth in the middle of a crowded restaurant.”

Dean shrugged and swirled his tongue across his lips, making a great show of cleaning them off thoroughly. Sam stared at Dean like he was the only real thing in a world of plastic, breath coming faster.

“I’ll let you off today.” The place was packed, it was true. And with the kind of people that might not take kindly to such a clearly homoerotic moment. “But next time, Sammy?”

Sam swallowed hard.

“Next time, say yes.”

~

Dean made Sam wait all afternoon until they were back in the motel room before he let Sam have what he wanted. He pulled Sam’s shirt over his head, tugged his boots and jeans off, and shoved him down in the padded recliner. Then, kneeling between his legs, Dean wrapped his lips around Sam’s cock and keeping his eyes fixed on Sam’s, slid his mouth up and down so slowly, Sam was nearly coming out of his skin, nails digging into the arms of the chair hard enough to tear the threadbare fabric.

Dean’s mouth rose and fell, tongue dancing, lips forming a perfect seal for the suction. Slow, languorous, he licked, sucked and nipped at Sam like a connoisseur, taking his sweet time (because he loved this, he honestly loved this, would suck Sam's cock for hours if he thought Sam would survive the experience), then speeding up without warning, sucking hard and fast, jacking hard with one hand, cradling Sam's balls in the other, until Sam was practically convulsing, hovering right on the edge--and pulled his mouth off, not letting Sam tip over the edge, slowing down once more, doing this over and over until Sam, sheened with sweat, was writhing, panting,  pleading with his whole body.

Dean paused and rubbed the head of Sam’s cock over his lips, slicking his mouth with the clear, sweet droplets at the tip, making his lips gleam, eyes locked on Sam’s face all the while, watching Sam watch him.

Sam made a choked sound, his cock twitching in Dean’s hand. Dean had driven Sam past language, barely able to string two words together. The first word Sam ever spoke, the last word he would ever say, the only word his brain could retain in that moment was his brother’s name. “Dean… Dean…”

“This what you want, Sammy?” Dean flared his tongue along the bottom of the ridge, dragged it up slow and rough.

“Dean…”

“Want to come in my mouth? On my lips? See me lick it off?”

Sam’s hips bucked up uncontrollably. He remembered another word. “Please. Please please please please please…”

Dean gripped the base of Sam’s cock, wet with his saliva, and jacked it slowly, wrapping his lips around the shaft and twining his tongue in circles around the head. “Yeah?” Dean practically purred. “I’ll give you what you need. But you gotta do something for me.”

Sam opened his eyes wide. “Anything. Fuck. Anything.”

Dean teased the tip of his tongue into the slit. “Next time I tell you to clean me up like that, Sammy… you fucking do it.”

Sam gasped, arching his back. “Yeah. Yeah. Promise. Swear.”

“Don’t care how many people are watching.”

Sam spread his thighs wider, threw his head back, surrendering to Dean completely. “Fuck. Yeah. For you. Swear.”

Dean plunged his mouth over Sam, taking him deep, all the way down, the way he’d had to learn how to do for Sam, because Christ that boy was huge, sucking harder on the way back up, scraping his tongue along the underside, swirling around the top and driving back down, again and again. Sam cried out, his hips thrusting off the recliner in a fierce spasm, thigh muscles and abs literally rippling. Only me, Dean thought with a flood of joy so sharp it felt like triumph. Only I get to see this.

He pulled his mouth off for just a moment, wrapped his fingers around Sam’s cock, letting Sam fuck up into his hand, just long enough to say, “Want to taste you. Gonna come for me, baby boy? Come in my mouth?”

Sam’s entire body shuddered, and Dean took him into his mouth again, driving the orgasm out of Sam, demanding it. He worked him shallow, not halfway down his throat, fist working the base of his cock, so that when Sam came, his brother’s name on his lips, he flooded Dean’s mouth, thick and bitter and better than anything.  

Dean pulled away so the last spasm spattered across his lips, reddened and swollen. Sam groaned at the sight, helpless, the tail end of his orgasm rising to a whole new level, wrenching another convulsion out of him.

Dean opened his mouth so Sam could see how full it was, and swallowed.

“Fuck, Dean…”

“Taste so good, Sam.” Dean’s tongue swept out and licked up a drop of come on his lip.

Sam’s cock jumped, as though it were desperate to get hard again. Dean sat up on his knees and leaned closer to Sam.

“This what you were wanting to see all day?”

Sam gripped Dean’s jaw with one hand, tilting his face up. Dean allowed him to, letting Sam drink in the sight of Dean’s mouth bejeweled with white pearls of Sam’s come.

“Can’t believe you actually did that for me.”

Sam stared at him for a long, long time, rubbing his thumb against Dean’s cheek softly, stared like he was trying to memorize what he was seeing, burn it onto his retinas so he would see it when he closed his eyes like an afterimage of a solar eclipse.

Dean had never felt more loved.

Sam grazed his thumb across Dean’s lower lip, pushed it into his mouth. Dean closed his lips over it and sucked Sam’s come off, eliciting a low moan. Sam leaned forward and swiped his tongue over Dean’s mouth, taking his time, licking up every droplet. This time, it was Dean who moaned, still rock-hard and fully clothed.

“What do you want?” Sam asked in a half-whisper. “Anything. Fucking anything.”

Dean reached up one hand and brushed the back of his fingers across Sam’s lips. “What do you think I want, Sammy? I’m not the only one with a pretty mouth.”