RockStarPeach

So, I'm planning one more part to this arc after this one and then I already have the third arc written (which I'm posting for my BB this year, so that'll still be a few months coming).

Title:  How to Date Your Brother - Step Nine: Don’t Pimp Him Out

Pairing:  Dean/Sam

Rating:  Adult

Word count:  4500

Summary:  The boys are low on cash and the closest place for them to hustle pool happens to be a bar that caters to homosexuals.  Which is fine with Sam, except that Dean doesn’t have enough money to bet with and he gets… creative.  Has Sam mentioned that his brother is a jerk?  Oh, and sex :)

A/N:  Sequel to ‘Blow Me’.  You don’t have to read that first for this to make sense, you just need to know this – First, Dean and Sam started to fool around.  Then they started to like it.  Then they started to like each other.  Now, they have to fumble their way through what happens next.

 

***

 

“No,” Dean insisted, shaking his head in a short, sharp jerk.  The word came out a growl, barely recognisable as language and the low rumble sent sparks down Sam’s spine that he tried to tamp down before they settled in his cock.

 

Fuck, it was so unfair what Dean could do to him with one simple word.  And a fucking bitchy one at that.

 

“What the Hell do you mean, ‘no’?”  Sam asked, screwing up his face as he looked from Dean to the bar and back again.

 

“Uh,” Dean continued, raising an eyebrow and letting his jaw slacken.  “I mean no, Einstein.  What the fuck does it sound like?  I’m not going in there.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because it’s - ” Dean started to shout and then snapped his mouth shut and grabbed the sleeve of Sam’s jacket in his fist to pull him closer. 

 

Dean looked around the parking lot, at the two guys making out by their car and two more with their arms wrapped around each other by the front door.  At the bright neon pink sign that said ‘Woody’s’ and the low, wide window showcasing several same-sex couples drinking beer and shooting pool and grabbing each other’s asses.  

 

“Because it’s a gay bar, Sammy,” he hissed and Sam blinked at him.

 

“Uh, yeah.  Looks like.  And?”

 

Dean looked at Sam with wide, panicked eyes and refused to let go of his sleeve.

 

“And?  They’re gonna be… gay!”

 

“Dean,” Sam said, shaking his head at his brother.  “You licked my ass last night.  And then you put your dick in it.  And then you gave me a blow job.  And swallowed.  I don’t think whatever those guys are doing in there is gonna be gayer than that.”

 

“Sam!  Shut the fuck up!” Dean said, looking around frantically.  “Somebody might hear you!”

 

“Oh my… Dean, now is not the time for your retarded issues.  We need cash, man.  Bar,” he stated, gesturing wildly with one hand toward the entrance.  “Pool tables.  Drunk guys.  Let’s go.”

 

“Why can’t we go someplace else?”

 

“Because there is no place else.  Not for miles.  Stop being such a pussy.”

 

“Dude!  I’m not a pussy.  You’re a pussy,” he added with a slight pout and it was all Sam could do not to kiss it away. 

 

It was moments like these, random moments, looking at Dean when he was pissed off or smiling or kicking ass or falling down drunk, when Sam’s heart would sort of turn over in his chest.  When it just hit home, for no real reason whatsoever, that he was in love with Dean.  He’d never meant to be, never wanted to be, but somewhere along the line it had happened.

 

And now he was in.  This was it.  Dean was ‘the one’, as stupid as that sounded, and even though he wasn’t the world’s best other half, he was the only one Sam ever wanted.

 

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Sam teased with a grin as he looped his arm lazily over Dean’s shoulders and steered across the parking lot to the bar door.  “I promise to defend your honour if the burly guys get too handsy.”

 

“Fuck you,” Dean scowled, pushing Sam away and Sam just laughed as Dean elbowed his way in front of him and lead them both inside.

 

Sam let him get a few steps ahead and looked around the place as Dean made a beeline for the bar and ordered them a couple of beers.  Not a bad place, really.  The music was alright and it was fairly clean and the guys hanging around the pool tables and dart boards had amassed a fairly hefty collection of empty bottles.  Always a good thing when the person you’re playing against is a couple sheets to the wind.

 

“Fuck,” Dean grumbled after he made his way back to Sam and pushed a bottle of beer roughly into his chest.  “Three different guys grabbed my ass in the time it took the bartender to open two bottles of beer.  Are you sure we have to stay here?  I feel like a cheap piece of meat.”

 

“Aww,” Sam mock-consoled him, tilting his head down to rest his forehead against Dean’s while Dean glared up at him.  “I promise they don’t think you’re cheap, baby.  I bet you could go for a small fortune around here.”

 

He was smirking, joking, but it was probably true.  Dean was gorgeous as fuck and he could probably flirt his way into a buttload of cash.  Not that Dean would be able to flirt with a man to save his life, but he saw the way some of these guys were checking out his brother.  His boyfriend.

 

“I hate you, you know,” Dean growled and tipped his head back to down half his beer in one go.

 

“Go put your money down,” Sam said, nodding toward the back corner where a handsome man who looked to be in his early twenties was setting up another game.  He was dressed nicely, too nicely for a place like this and his Rolex glinted with reflected light from an overhanging bulb as he racked the balls.  He obviously had money.  Perfect.

 

Sam hid a smile and tucked his head into Dean’s neck, pressing a soft kiss just below his ear and laughed when Dean jerked back and gave him a shove.  “I’ll protect you from wandering hands.”

 

“I really hate you,” Dean reminded him, but he did as Sam told him. 

 

Sam followed him across the room and watched as Dean talked to a couple of guys around the pool tables while he waited for the next game to end and he laid down his hundred bucks to secure his turn in line.

 

Dean lost the first game.  It wasn’t even close.

 

He cursed under his breath for show and kissed Sam obscenely on the lips before he smacked his ass and gave him a cocky smile when he noticed a few people not so subtly checking Sam out.  Marking his territory, the asshole.  It figured that he’d jump at the chance to come off all possessive and butch. 

 

“Go get me a beer, bitch,” he said and Sam silently fumed.  “I play better after I’ve had a few.”

 

“No, you don’t,” Sam told him, carefully playing the part.  “Dean, you’re even worse after you’ve been drinking.  Let’s just go sit at the bar for a while.”

 

“Beer, Sammy,” Dean ordered, his voice lowering an active and Sam felt a sets of eyes turned in their direction, including those of Dean’s opponent, looking them both over appraisingly.  Crap, maybe Dean was right and they should have gone someplace else.  Sam was never really comfortable with people paying too much attention to him.  “Now.”

 

“Fine,” Sam sighed.  “But I totally reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ when you’ve lost all your money.”

 

“Never happen,” Dean replied with completely confidence and turned his head to grin and nod at the man he was playing against.  Sam rolled his eyes and started towards the bar and he didn’t look back when he heard Dean call after him.

 

“And get us a few purple nurples!”

 

Sam put in the order and made his way back to Dean with two beers in one hand and two shots in the other.  Dean downed one of the shots after he watched his opponent sink three balls in a row and he frowned while he took the beer Sam offered.

 

He lost the second game, too.

 

“Double or nothin’,” Dean said, making sure to sway slightly as he watched the eight-ball drop into the pocket in front of him. 

 

“Do you even have that much cash on you?” the guy challenged and Dean grinned at him.

 

“’Course,” he said and the guy raised an eyebrow.

 

“Let’s see it.”

 

“Okay, see, when I say cash…” Dean started and the guy cut him off.

 

“What are you driving?”

 

“What?” Dean baulked, shaking his head and putting his hands up in front of him.  “Nuh uh.  Not my baby.”

 

“It’s a ’67 Chevy Impala,” Sam cut in, smiling innocently as Dean shot him a glare.  “It’s in great shape.”

 

“You want to play another game, put down the keys,” the guy said to Dean.

 

“Forget it!”

 

“Dean!” Sam hissed in his ear and elbowed him in the side.  They were already down two hundred dollars that they didn’t have and they couldn’t afford to walk away from this now.

 

“Okay,” the guy said and a slow grin spread across his face as he looked Sam up and down and Sam held back a shiver, lifted his chin challengingly.  “Your ride, or your boyfriend.”

 

“What?!” Sam gasped, choking on the smoky air as it burned his throat.

 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he cocked his head, considering as he pursed his lips.

 

“Dean, what…  You’ve got to be kidding,” Sam growled.  “You’re not actually considering betting me, are you?”

 

“Like… forever?” Dean asked the guy, completely ignoring Sam and Sam let out an exasperated breath and threw his hands up in the air.

 

The guy laughed and took a drink of his beer.

 

“Half an hour,” he said.

 

“And what are we talkin’ here?” Dean asked.  “Like… drinks?  A little hand-down-the-pants action?  Or kinky leather and handcuffs shit?  ‘Cause if you’re too rough on him I won’t be gettin’ any for a while.  And that’s worth a lot more than four hundred.”

 

The guy’s eyes widened momentarily and Sam could tell he was surprised that Dean was actually taking him seriously.  That he’d pimp his boyfriend out over a pool game.  He probably expected Dean to storm off in outrage and leave him with all the money.  Sam was pretty fucking surprised, too.  Of course Dean was first class jerk but Christ, this was ridiculous!

 

“Dean, I swear to God,” Sam grumbled and his hands balled up into fists as his entire body stiffened.

 

“Pipe down, Samantha,” Dean said, dismissing him.

 

“A thousand,” the guy said then.  “You win, you get the money, I win I get thirty minutes with your boy in the back of my pick-up.  Nothing kinky, I promise.”  He smiled at Dean and shot Sam a wink.

 

“No,” Sam said.  He was pretty sure Dean was going to win and even if he didn’t they could easily outrun and outfight this guy and his friends, but it was the principle of the thing.  “I’m not a whore, Dean.”

 

“Aw, don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart,” Dean teased, turning his head to kiss Sam on the tip of his nose.  “You’re pretty enough to be anything you want to be.”

 

“Dean, don’t,” Sam told him, eyes narrowed.

 

“Deal,” Dean said, to the other guy and then turned back to smile at Sam.  “Why don’t you go powder your nose, baby,” he said, slapping Sam on the ass.  Again.  Fucking jackass!  “The men folk have some business to take care of.”

 

Sam stuck around long enough to watch Dean sink three balls off the break and then made a quiet exit through the front door, unnoticed.

 

He broke into the Impala, thought about breaking the window (it wasn’t like Dean didn’t deserve it) but Dean would probably actually break his fingers for that one, so he used his lock pick and then hotwired it to drive himself back to the motel.

 

The very least Dean deserved after that asinine display back there was to face the angry gay mob on his own and then have to walk the half hour back to the room.  Sam briefly considered jerking off all over the front seat, but then figured that would probably have more impact if Dean could actually see his precious car getting all messed up.

 

Maybe tomorrow, while Dean was driving.

 

***

 

“What the fuck, bitch?”

 

Dean slammed the door shut behind him two hours later and threw his keys at Sam, hitting him in the forehead, jagged metal teeth pulling at his skin.  He sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the side, picked the keys up and tossed them onto the table with a carefully blank expression.

 

“Got bored,” Sam said with a shrug and flicked on the television.  “So, did you win?  Or are you so late because you’ve been sucking dick all night to pay it off?”

 

“Nah, I won,” Dean said, frowning and pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket, tossing it down on the table.  “I stuck around for the dick sucking ‘cause it’s so much fucking fun.  What the fuck is your problem?”

 

“What is my…” Sam started, floundering.  “You bet my ass in a game of pool, Dean!  What do you think my problem is?”

 

“You don’t know that he wanted to fuck your ass,” Dean countered, sounding irritatingly reasonable.  “And he promised no kinky shit.”

 

“Dean, can you even hear yourself right now?”

 

“Oh relax, princess.  Jesus.  We both know there wasn’t a chance in Hell I’d have lost.”

 

“That’s not even the point!  You made me look like… like your bitch or something!”

 

“Heh,” Dean snickered and slowly nodded his head, big stupid grin turning his mouth up at the corners.  “Yeah.”

 

“Oh, eat me,” Sam bit out and wished he’d held onto the keys so he could throw them at Dean’s annoying face.

 

Dean pursed his lips and gave a shrug.

 

“I’m kinda tired, but yeah, sure.  Maybe I’ll be able to find the stick that’s up there while I’m at it.”

 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

 

“Sammy, come on,” Dean said, voice wavering slightly, shifting as he crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to Sam.  “I wouldn’t have let him anywhere near you.  You know that.  Right?”

 

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes when Dean awkwardly put his hand on Sam’s thigh, patting it in what was no doubt supposed to be reassurance before he ran his fingers up the inseam of Sam’s jeans and stopped with the tips resting against the bulge in Sam’s jeans.

 

Yeah, ‘cause he was that easy.  Sam batted his hand away with a snort.

 

“I can take care of myself.”

 

“Exactly.  So what the fuck?" 

 

“Dean, you chose your car over me.  You made a fool out of me.”

 

“Well, yeah, but Sam.  She’s my baby.”

 

Sam gave him a look that would have made lesser men piss their pants on the spot, but Dean just sat there and if Sam wasn’t too much mistaken, actually looked apologetic.  It was probably just a trick of the light.

 

“Come on, who gives a crap what those guys thought about us?” Dean asked, moving closer to Sam hesitantly so that their knees bumped together.  “We’re never going to see them again.  We needed money, and now we’ve got money.  Are you seriously pissed about this?”

 

Sam sighed.

 

He was overreacting.  He knew he was, but fuck, Dean could be such an asshole.

 

“Dean, you were the one complaining about being treated like a piece of meat when we first got there.  And then you turn around and sell me to the highest bidder?”

 

“I probably could have gotten more if you’d actually agreed to screw the guy,” Dean mumbled, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

 

“Dean…” Sam warned.

 

“Yeah.  I’m sorry, Sammy.  Okay?  I didn’t know you’d be such a friggin’ girl about it.”  He sighed and pushed up off the bed, moved to stand across the room with his hip leaning against the dresser, supporting his weight.

 

“Look, I know I act like I’m the boss sometimes,” Dean said and Sam quirked a brow.

 

“Okay, all the time.  And let’s face it, I totally am.”  Dean’s smile was contagious, all big and stupidly adorable.  “And I’m sorry if I embarrassed you or anything, but Sammy… I would never actually treat you like that.  Do you… do you really think I would?”

 

“No.”  No, Sam knew he wouldn’t.  “Of course not.  I just… I felt like an idiot.”

Dean’s smile morphed then, turned lascivious in a blink and fuck but his brother had a one track mind.  Horny little shit.

 

“Not my fault you’re so hot that everyone wants a piece, Sammy.  I’d be stupid not to take advantage of that.”

 

Sam’s stomach fluttered at Dean’s words but when Dean pushed off the dresser and moved to settle next to Sam on the bed again, leaning into him and easing him down onto his back Sam put a hand flat on Dean’s chest, stopping him.

 

“You think that’s all it takes?” Sam asked, but he couldn’t really hide his grin.  “A little flattery and I’ll just roll over?  I’m not you, Dean.”

 

Dean snickered and pressed his face into Sam’s neck, lips ghosting over the sensitive skin.

 

“So hot, Sammy,” he mumbled against Sam’s throat as Sam swallowed and despite his will he could feel the blood rush to his cock, fill it up.  Sam sucked in a breath and angled his head to give Dean better access, helpless to do anything else.

 

Nobody had ever touched him the way Dean did, nobody had ever been able to make him quiver, turn his mind to mush and knees to jelly with a single look or word or caress the way Dean did.

 

It was criminal.  Or magic.  Probably voodoo.  He wouldn’t put it past him.

 

“Everybody in there wanted you,” Dean went on, kissing down to Sam’s collar bone and lightly biting over the protrusion.  Sam gasped and went back willingly this time when Dean gently pushed at his shoulder, too weak to fight anymore.

 

He wasn’t even angry, not really.  Sure his ego was sort of bruised, but he could always replace all of Dean’s cassettes with some easy listening in the morning to get back at him.  Right now, Dean’s lips on his chest and Dean’s fingertips slowly working under his shirt to trail over his ribs, tracing each one carefully, lovingly, felt too damn good to worry about anything else.

 

Shit, maybe he was easy.  Dean was starting to rub off on him, the bastard. 

 

“Oh,” Sam whispered, the word coming out soft and high-pitched when Dean pushed his shirt up enough to close his teeth softly over a nipple, tongue playing over the tip.  His hands reached for Dean’s head, cupped the sides to hold him there as he spread his legs a little to settle Dean more firmly against him.  “God, Dean.  Yes.”

 

Dean chuckled and sucked harder, pulling Sam’s bud into his mouth to harden it further before he let go and sat up, stripped Sam’s shirt off completely.

 

“Every single guy in that placed is wishing they were me right now,” he said, letting his eyes trail over Sam’s naked chest and Sam felt his skin flush in their wake.  “They all wanted to take you home.  Look at you.  Touch you.”

 

“Dean,” Sam said, his brother’s name coming out like a plea when Dean just sat there, staring, teasing him with the soft pads of his fingers fluttering over Sam’s abdominals.  He suspected that more than a few of those men would have preferred to take Dean home than Sam, but he wasn’t going to mention it.

 

“But I’m the only one that gets to, isn’t that right?”  Dean licked his lips as his hands worked over Sam’s pants, unfastening them before his eyes darted up to Sam’s.  The look Dean gave him was intense, hungry and Sam’s stomach clenched.  “Fuck, I am one lucky son of a bitch.”

 

“Dean, please.”

 

“What do you want, Sammy?” Dean asked him.  “Anything you want tonight.”

 

Seriously?  Dean expected him to be able to think right now?  While Dean was practically fucking him with his eyes and sliding his hand into Sam’s open pants to wrap his thick, warm fingers around his hard cock.

 

Dean’s grip became more sure and he used his free hand to work Sam’s pants down enough to give him room to manoeuvre and it wasn’t long before Sam was leaking pre-come over Dean’s fist and eagerly bucking up into his grasp, panting.

 

“Up to you,” he said, deceptively casually.  “I get can you off like this if you want – fuck, Sammy, so fucking gorgeous.  Shit – but it’s up to you.”

 

Dean bit his lip and his wrist twisted, his fingers tightened – perfect fucking fingers – and Sam let out a low groan. 

 

“Off,” Sam gasped, shifting his hips to push his pants down.  Dean smiled down at him and helped him work them over his legs and off, tossing them to the floor before he pushed Sam’s legs far enough to apart to settle in between them.  He took Sam’s cock in his hand again but he pumped it slower, kept Sam climbing that lazy incline, half crazy with lust but not pushing him to that edge, not yet.

 

“What else?” Dean whispered, leaning down so that he was mostly resting on Sam and his breath blew warm over Sam’s ear.  Sam shivered and his hips thrust up violently.  “What else do you need?”

 

This was so not fair.  Sam was dizzy.  Actually fucking dizzy as he fought to keep his eyes open and Dean pressed down on him, over him, around him, making him feel warm and perfect and needy.

 

Shit, he just knew Dean was getting off on this, on turning Sam into a quivering heap whose world was reduced to his dick.  Arrogant bastard.  The only reason Sam didn’t knee him in the nuts and tell him to fuck off was that it went both ways.  Sam knew what he could do Dean without even trying at all and that thought helped him feel a little less exposed at the moment.

 

Besides, Dean was damn good at this and the payoff was always more than worth looking a little desperate.

 

He reached out for Dean’s free hand and slid it over his thigh, down into the crease of his hip and further back.

 

“Fingers,” he panted when Dean squeezed his dick just hard enough.  “Inside me.  Do it.”

 

Dean smiled at him and snatched his hand away, brought it to his mouth to coat two fingers liberally in saliva and the next thing Sam knew they were both as deep inside his hole as they could go.

 

“Fuck!” Sam cursed on a soft exhale and then he had to shut his eyes, didn’t have a choice.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

 

“If you want,” he heard Dean say, heard his smile even with his eyes closed and Sam shook his head, frowning.

 

“No.  No, just this.” 

 

Dean moved his fingers in and out slowly, crooked them slightly to put soft pressure on Sam’s prostate as the hand on his dick kept up a steady rhythm.  Sam was getting closer, slowly, and he bit back a smug smile when he felt the hard outline of Dean’s erection through his jeans where he was grinding it against the back of Sam’s thigh.

 

“Don’t come,” Sam said, a low order when he felt Dean’s hips stutter, felt him tense and his breath hitch as he got closer.  Dean stopped moving all together for a second or two, long enough for Sam to blink his eyes open and look up at his pinched and disbelieving expression.

 

“What?!”

 

“Don’t come,” Sam said again, tone more steady this time after sucking in several deep breaths. 

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“You said anything I want, right?” Sam reminded him with a smirk.  Oh yes.  This was awesome.  Best revenge ever.  He hadn’t planned on it, but now that the idea had popped up, completely unbidden, he was rolling with it.  It was too good to pass up.  “And what I want is for you to get me off and then fall asleep hard.”

 

Dean’s eyes narrowed, but after a beat they softened in resignation and his hands started up again, thrusting and pulling, setting Sam on fire.

 

“You sneaky little bastard,” Dean told him, rumbling and harsh as he choked down laughter.  “You know, I’m kinda proud of you, Sammy.”

 

“Just shut up and... holy shit!”  Sam broke off when Dean’s hands twisted and pushed in the exact right combination and his body tensed, almost there, almost there, so fucking close.

 

“Kiss me,” Sam demanded, challenged almost.  He knew Dean didn’t always like that, or more accurately pretended he didn’t like it, which sometimes was half the fun.  “Dean, kiss me.”

 

So Dean did.  His lips were soft and slow, a counterpoint to his hands, which had sped up, knowing and skilled and merciless as Sam hit the edge and started to fall.  Dean opened his mouth gently, pushing Sam’s lips apart with his own and his tongue slid inside, licking over Sam’s in a smooth slide that made him whimper.

 

And that was it.  He was done.

 

He came over Dean’s fingers, a sticky, slippery mess across his own belly and Dean worked him through it, slowed his movements so that it wasn’t too much, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Sam’s slit.  He pressed once more against Sam’s prostate with two fingers and Sam twitched, spent as Dean pulled free.

 

“Holy…” Sam managed, out of breath and floating as his hand absently flailed until it connected with whatever part of Dean was closest.  His hip, it turned out.  “That was awesome.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean grouched.  “Glad you think so.  I gotta…  Bathroom.”

 

He was up and off the bed, leaving Sam chilled and slightly annoyed before he finished his sentence.

 

“Don’t jerk off!” Sam warned as the bathroom door shut loudly and he cleaned himself off with the sheets before he switched beds, waiting for Dean to come back.

 

It didn’t take long and when the bathroom door opened again, after Sam heard the toilet flush and the water run for a good minute and a half, Dean was wearing only his boxers, erection impressively tenting the front.

 

Sam smiled.

 

“Come here,” Sam said, holding out one arm while he propped himself up on his side.  “Snuggle me, jerk.”

 

Dean scowled but got into the bed anyway and Sam didn’t gloat.  It would only have made Dean run.  Dean’s arms wrapped around him, sharp and jerky at first, petulant like a friggin’ toddler and he felt Dean’s hard cock bump against his hip.

 

“If I fuck you in your sleep, you totally deserve it,” Dean mumbled against his shoulder, rolling Sam over and spooning up behind him.  “Bitch.”

 

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” Sam said, pulling Dean’s arm tighter across his stomach.  “I promise.  You know you had this coming, man.”

 

Dean mumbled something unintelligible that might or might not have been agreement.

 

“So, how much did you make?” Sam asked after a minute or so.

 

“Three grand, total,” Dean said and Sam’s eyes widened in appreciation.  “Dude laughed when he handed it over, too and then bought me a beer.  God I hate rich people.”

 

“Jesus,” Sam said and then whistled, impressed.  It was possible he’d been a little too hard on Dean.  What was the problem, really, so long as Dean didn’t mean it and Sam never actually had to pay up?  “Maybe we should hit up gay bars more often.  You can totally pretend to pimp me out if we manage to walk away with that kind of cash.”

 

Dean jerked his head back and barked out a sharp laugh.

 

“You little slut,” he said and pulled Sam closer, smiling into his shoulder.

 

“Careful, Dean,” Sam said, teasing.  “You’re starting to cuddle all on your own there.”

 

“Don’t get used to it,” Dean growled, biting down hard enough to leave marks over the jut of his shoulder blade.  “Just so you know, you’re gonna blow me in the morning.”

 

Sam covered Dean’s hand with his own where it was resting just below his belly button.  Dean’s favourite thing in the sac was getting a blow job, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that that’s what he would ask for.

 

“Looking forward to it,” Sam said, heavy contentment and satisfaction overtaking him as he pressed back against Dean.

 

He fell asleep barely five minutes later with Dean’s hard cock pressed against the small of his back and a smile on his face.

 

Continued in Step 10