Pretty in Pink (Isn't He?) Chapter 2: Wrong Verb

[justinedelarge]

Title: Pretty in Pink (Isn't He?) Chapter 2: Wrong Verb
Author: justinedelarge
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count 1600
Summary: Sam has a plan to surprise Dean.
Warning: Wincest. 
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just for fun.

Sam was acting weird.

Ok, Sam usually acted weird, but this was different.

First off, he wouldn’t let Dean shower with him. “Sometimes—just sometimes Dean?—a person needs a little privacy. Just to remember what it’s like, ok?”

And he put on his clean clothes in the bathroom with the door shut.

And he turned down a perfectly good blow job when he came out.

“Dude. Something we gotta talk about?” Dean poured Sam a tiny cup of motel coffeemaker coffee, from the tiny motel coffeemaker. The cup looked like part of a doll set in Sam’s massive hand.

“Nope. We’re good.” Sam’s face was flushed, but his eyes met Dean’s gaze without squirming away (Sam’s tell for when he was upset about something).

Dean ran his hand along Sam’s back and settled on the curve of his ass. “You’d tell me. If I pissed you off?”

Sam drank half the coffee in one gulp and grimaced. “Oh. You’d know. But you haven’t. Promise.”

Dean was usually the one who resisted cuddling and kisses and all of that bullshit, but when his insecurities flared—like now—he either got VERY demonstrative or he turned into a prick. Sam was very clear that he much preferred the first, so that’s how he ran with it.

Dean nuzzled at Sam’s chin like a dog trying to get some attention, and when Sam turned his face towards him, mouth twitching in a smile, Dean gently worried Sam’s lower lip between his teeth, and then kissed him. A real Dean Winchester, “make ‘em weak in the knees,” phasers set to On Your Back Now kiss. With the little lip bite first looking at Sam’s mouth, then getting lost in Sam’s eyes, letting his lips touch Sam’s oh so gently, the slow, sweet sweep of his tongue across the seam of Sam’s mouth until Sam parted his lips for Dean, let him in, the hand at the back of the neck, the other hand on his face, thumb caressing his jawline, then pulling Sam’s mouth open wider so Dean could slowly ease his tongue past Sam’s teeth and possess his mouth…

He had Sam sucking on his tongue and moaning into his mouth in less than a minute.

 “Ok. Ok. “ Sam unzipped Dean’s fly and sank to his knees. He took a swig of coffee in his mouth, held it there for a moment, then swallowed and sucked Dean’s testicles into his mouth, one by one.

Dean gripped the edge of the table with both hands and swore, shuddering. Sam’s mouth was wet and HOT and mother of all that’s holy it felt good. “Fuck.”

Sam sucked and lapped at Dean’s balls, tugging on them with his lips gently, while Dean twitched.

Another mouthful of coffee, swirled in his mouth, and swallowed, and Sam sealed his mouth around the crown of Dean’s cock and sucked the length of it down, slowly, inch by inch. Dean’s bowlegs were wobbling by the time the tight seal of Sam’s lips brushed against his balls, his big brown eyes staring up into his face, blown wide with admiration and lust and so much love it hurt to look at.

The hot, wet heat of Sam’s mouth was too much, and Dean was spilling into Sam’s mouth within what felt like seconds. Sam swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed. Never let a drop spill.

Sam sat back on his heels, grinning. “Feel better?”

Dean tucked himself back in his jeans. “You have no idea.”

Sam got to his feet, finished the last of his coffee, and made a face. “That shit tastes nasty.”

“Most people say that about come.”

“Most people haven’t tasted yours.”

Dean’s face crinkled with a smile better suited to learning he’d won the lottery, not had his little brother tell him how good his ejaculate tasted. But everybody has their own definition of awesome things to hear. “Christ I love you.”

“Are those tears in your eyes?”

“Shut up.”

“Are they?” Sam gripped Dean’s face.

“You’re so annoying.” Dean swatted Sam’s hand away.

“Gee, your come tastes terrific!”

“Seriously, Sam. Gonna kick your ass.”

“You can try. Oh, and wrong verb.” Sam grabbed his jacket. “Gotta get to the library. I’ll call you when I got what we need.” One last slow kiss, and Sam was out the door.

Dean didn’t get it what “wrong verb” meant until Sam was across the parking lot.

It took him an hour to realize that Sam hadn’t gotten off.

Hadn’t even tried.