![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Monster's Ball (NC17) Sam/Dean
Title – Monster’s Ball
Pairing – Sam/Dean
Rating - NC-17
Word count – 4000
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
salt_burn_porn for the prompt “well met by moonlight”
It was just supposed to get Sam flustered. Make him blush and splutter and look away, make his underlying very vanilla prude self that Dean was sure was there come to the surface so Dean would be able to make fun of him for it forever. Maybe he got a little more into it than was necessary, but that was after Sam researched the fancy party they were about to infiltrate and pronounced it “known for being the showplace of the very best Halloween costumes the Big Apple has to offer for over 20 years”.
The advertisements didn’t mention the three murders that seemed to be happening every five years like clockwork at the Monsters Ball, or the fact that the murderer was never caught thanks to apparently having an impenetrable disguise. This year was the fifth anniversary once again, and Sam and Dean weren’t taking any chances. In order to get past the velvet rope, their costumes had to be bona fide next-to-professional or at least Comic Con cosplay level, so Dean had good reason for going above and beyond and swiping a few things from the makeup aisle in CVS to go along with the rest of his outfit. He’d snickered as he pulled on the leather shorts with the weird laces up the sides and the cropped vest which was too tight but kinda felt good anyway, imagining Sam’s affronted reaction. After a couple of attempts, he decided to go light on the mascara and blush – he didn’t want to scare Sam too much by making himself look like a clown – but years of having to aim a gun had given him a steady hand so the kohl liner and shadow went on just fine, if he didn’t say so himself. Screw it, he didn’t need a lot of mascara anyway, he knew his assets.
Dean batted his lashes experimentally in the mirror and grinned. Oh yeah, Sam was gonna give him bitchface number three for sure. It was one of Dean’s favorites. The costume shop they’d ‘borrowed’ their outfits from was the supplier for a local theater company in addition to a Halloween favorite, so Dean’s had come complete with a thick leather collar studded with fake rhinestones, a couple of leather arm bands and a leash that attached to a ring on the collar. Dean looped that around his neck and looked forward to daring anyone to try to put him on it. The costume also came with spiky black stilettos so Dean just put his own worn leather boots back on because who could chase after a murderous monster wearing those things?
They didn’t have a lot of time, so Dean had called dibs on the motel bathroom as soon as they got back and put his costume on in there, leaving Sam to get dressed on the other side. Sam started bitching at him to hurry up, predictably, but Dean just shushed him with “can’t rush perfection, Sammy.”
He was still snickering, wishing he had his cell phone at the ready to record Sam’s bitchface, when he opened the door and came face to face with his brother.
Dean wasn’t proud of his reaction – he wasn’t supposed to be the one flustered and shocked and blushing but DAMN. Sam had clearly gone to the other section of the store and grabbed something that fit him like it had been custom designed. It was simple enough….yet not. Black leather pants that looked like they’d been painted onto Sam’s muscular calves and thighs, with a zipper fly that was embellished by silver studding to….accentuate it? A thick leather belt with matching studs was definitely not needed to hold the pants up, but Sam sported one anyway. No shirt was part of the costume at all. Instead, Sam had one of those leather strap contraptions that crossed behind his broad back and came together in the middle of his chest in a large silver ring, the two top sections perfectly framing his pink nipples and showing off the muscularity of his chest. Thick black leather wrist-to-elbow cuff with more studs completed the top half of the costume. Sam had something looped casually around his neck too; it was a whip.
Dean looked up, trying to think of something funny to say, and realized with a shock that Sam was looming over him even more than usual. He looked down to see that the black leather boots Sam was wearing had a bit of a platform sole and stacked heel. Jesus, like Sam needed more height to look imposing!
They stared at each other for way too long, until the awkwardness made Dean start to sweat in his leather shorts and he took a step back, put some distance between them.
“Jesuschrist Sam, you really took this seriously,” he managed finally. He didn’t think his voice cracked.
“You’re one to talk,” Sam answered, “You – do you have on? Is that?” He broke off suddenly and it was definitely breathy and flustered but somehow it wasn’t anything like what Dean was expecting and anticipating making fun of.
“We should go,” they said in unison, and Dean had never been so grateful that Halloween was in October and it was chilly in New York at night. Sam stalked along beside him with his giant legs eating up the pavement even more than usual in those goddamn boots and Dean hurried to keep up before Sam realized he was hurrying to keep up. He felt off balance somehow, like he couldn’t be the big brother when he was dressed like this and Sam was dressed like… that. It made him hyper aware of just how broad Sam’s shoulders were, just how grown up and powerful his “little” brother had become. God, these shorts were tight.
Two hours in, they had finally figured out who the actual monster was just as the “inner circle” part of the evening began. That was the private party only accessible to the patrons whose costumes had qualified them as “the best and most outrageous”. It was also the party where all three of the murders had taken place.
“How are we gonna get in there?” Dean grumbled. He’d had to watch a million women – and half a million men at least – ogle Sam since they’d arrived and it was downright annoying. Never mind that dozens of people of both genders had pinched his ass and called him “sweetheart”.
“I don’t know, but we have to, and NOW,” Sam said, and then he grabbed Dean by the shoulder and pushed him bodily toward the small stage at the front of the room where the emcee was almost finished deciding who got in.
“Hey,” Dean started to protest, but Sam hissed “follow my lead” and they both were good at doing that when they were on a job so he did.
Sam stalked onto the stage and loomed above the emcee by a good foot, pulling Dean up with him and then spinning him around to face the crowd.
“I think we belong in there,” Sam said with authority. “I mean, who doesn’t think this naughty boy deserves to put on a show?”
Dean’s mouth fell open at the same time as the crowd began to applaud, and then the emcee was shoving a chair across the stage. Sam’s hand gripped the back of Dean’s leather collar and yanked him backwards, and Dean couldn’t quite stifle the surprised yelp but he trusted Sam’s hands on him no matter what so he went with it as Sam sat down and twisted Dean so he landed flat on Sam’s lap.
“Naughty naughty naughty naughty” the crowd began to chant and Dean couldn’t quite get his head around what was going to happen before Sam’s gigantic hand came down on his leather-covered ass with a smack that could be heard over both the music and the chanting.
His instinct was to kick and lash out and his feet did both without his conscious decision, but Sam still had his fingers slipped under Dean’s collar and he pulled up tight enough to make Dean instinctively freeze.
“Show them how you take your punishment,” Sam growled, loudly for the sake of the crowd, and his hand came down on Dean’s other cheek just as hard.
Dean wheezed through the restraint of the leather collar, self protective instinct warring with this-is-Sam-he-won’t-hurt-you instinct, and the lack of oxygen and his maybe a little bit of exhibitionist streak made Dean’s dick chub up in his shorts. He couldn’t help but rock his hips a little, and after another couple of smacks, Sam loosened his grip and let Dean breathe.
“More more more more more” the crowd enthused, and Sam indulged them. This time he pushed Dean’s legs apart and slapped him on the bare skin of his upper thighs just beneath the shorts and it stung like a sonofabitch. Dean squirmed and gritted his teeth against the yowl of protest that wanted to come out, and when he did he felt Sam tense beneath him, his hips twisting too, and Dean felt like a fucking rod the hard line of Sam’s dick poking his exposed belly.
Sam must have known he felt it, because he let Dean go abruptly, pushing him off and standing himself. Dean wobbled for a second, trying to find his footing with his head still foggy, his eyes snagged on the bulge beneath Sam’s studded zipper.
“Seen enough?” Sam addressed the emcee, and Dean suddenly remembered the case that he’d completely forgotten.
“Use the whip!” some asshole in the crowd yelled out, and the emcee got an evil grin on his face.
“One time,” he crooned, looking lasciviously from Sam to Dean.
Sam’s eyes caught Dean’s, and Dean nodded. Sam’s cheeks were flushed bright pink, the tips of his ears red. Even his nipples were stiff, the sparse hair there glistening with beads of sweat.
Dean took one step toward him, then dropped smoothly to his knees. He heard the crowd gasp and knew it was the right move, but he heard Sam gasp too, saw his fingers twitch as he pulled the whip from around his neck and held it in one leather cuffed hand.
Dean didn’t have to look down to know that his shorts were about to bust open from the erection they barely contained. His thighs trembled as he turned his back to Sam and then went to his hands and knees.
“Jesusfuck,” he heard Sam swear, and then the whip smacked down on his ass. Sam was careful to make sure it didn’t hit bare flesh but it hurt just the same and Dean did yelp that time. He didn’t move though, and he thought that was probably what made Sam swear again.
“Admitted,” the emcee said, and Sam was helping him up then. The look on Sam’s face said they were gonna have to talk about this later and also that he never wanted to talk about this later, and then they were through the door and it was only two minutes later that the monster made its move. Luckily it was during crazy disco lit blacklights and even louder music than in the other room, and luckily the lore they’d found was correct, and they had the dead thing out the door before anyone realized it or they were missing.
Five minutes later they were turning the corner into a deserted alley headed for the motel, breathless but exhilarated because when do hunts ever go that smoothly? The sharp turn brought Sam up short and he skidded to a halt, which brought Dean right up against him. Sam got his arms out quickly enough to forestall an all-out collision, and Dean thought about his brother’s lightning fast reflexes and strong arms and how much he appreciated both.
“Whoa,” Sam said, still panting, and held Dean at arm’s length without letting go. His eyes darted from Dean’s kohl-rimmed eyes to his glossed red mouth and then back again, and Dean shivered suddenly. Sam’s long hair was wild from the fight and the run, his cheekbones outlined by the light of the full moon behind him, making him a dark silhouette; dangerous.
Sam’s lip curled, just a little. “Well met by moonlight,” he said, strangely soft. It was just Sam being a geek, Dean knew, but he shivered again, thought about how he should push Sam off him and make a joke of it but the words wouldn’t come.
“Look at you,” Sam went on in that same low voice, “You drove everyone in there nuts. The perfect distraction.”
“Everyone?” Dean asked, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
Sam stared at him like a challenge; Dean raised his chin and stared back. Accepted.
Sam’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t back down.
“I think so,” Sam said.
“Yeah?” Dean shuffled just that much closer; his face was angled perfectly for what he suddenly very much wanted Sam to do, and Sam knew it.
Sam didn’t answer. He leaned down just enough to take what was on offer, their lips brushing chastely. It could have ended there. They could have laughed it off as post hunt adrenaline or stupid costume ideas. Instead Dean opened his mouth and pushed in harder and a shudder ran down his entire body when Sam responded immediately, his tongue in Dean’s mouth and his arms tight around Dean’s back, practically lifting him off his feet with the force of Sam’s kiss.
Dean had just enough time to grab a handful of Sam’s hair to make sure he was giving as good as getting before Sam pulled away, but it was enough time for that to send Dean’s stomach plummeting with disappointment even if he’d never admit it.
“C’mon,” Sam said and started off down the alley in giant strides. He looked over his shoulder and the moonlight lit up the anticipation painted all over his face as he added, “We need the motel for this.”
They ran part of the way just because they wanted to, not because anything was chasing them but because they were finally chasing each other. Neither could remember where they’d put the door key in leather costumes that had no pockets, but Dean finally found it in his boot after they got distracted patting each other down in search of it.
“Come ON,” Sam complained as he fumbled the lock a few times, but finally they were inside and the door was closed and by unspoken agreement they both knew that hesitation was sure to be the death of this ridiculous idea they’d had so they were on each other so quickly they nearly lost their balance and landed on the floor. Sam’s hands slid down his back and landed on his ass, pulling Dean up on his toes as they went back to devouring each other’s mouths and Dean was reminded again that Sam was like seven feet tall and while once he had been Dean’s little brother there was absolutely nothing little about him now.
That thought was a shockingly effective aphrodisiac, along with Sam’s hands possessively kneading at his ass cheeks, and Dean let loose the groan that was trapped in his chest and ground his hips against Sam’s, leather against leather. The sound was more needy than he’d intended, but it just spurred Sam on, one of his hands grappling with the laces on the sides of Dean’s shorts and another shoved right down the back of them.
“Fuck,” Sam growled against Dean’s bruised mouth, “Fuckin’ wet,” and it was true, Dean was slick with sweat and so was Sam, the smell of damp leather thick in the room. Sam’s fingers slid down his crack and poked at his hole and there was no way Sam was getting in there with just sweat but it didn’t matter, just the intent of it hit Dean like a shock wave, and he moaned again as his dick tried to swell more against the confines of the tight leather shorts.
“God, god,” Sam was saying, like he’d forgotten all that impressive vocabulary and Dean was smug for a second before one of Sam’s fingers managed to poke inside him just a fraction and then even coherent thought was too much. Dean smashed a hand between them and rubbed over the thick bulge in Sam’s pants and Sam shuddered so violently Dean could feel it everywhere they were pressed together.
“Ohgod,” Sam muttered and he sounded so desperate, so overcome with want, that all of Dean’s instincts kicked in at once and told him to give it to Sam and give it to him NOW.
Sam’s hand slid out of his shorts when he dropped to his knees and there was a groan of complaint before Dean leaned in and mouthed over Sam’s studded fly, getting his teeth around the bulge and putting pressure where he felt the swollen head and then Sam fucking keened, his knees buckling before he righted himself with both hands on Dean’s shoulders.
“FUCK!” Sam gasped, so Dean did it again, and again, hands on Sam’s hips to hold him steady and then on his ass to feel the clench and release of those muscular cheeks as Sam thrust against him helplessly. When Sam started to say his name, Dean finally took pity on him and unbuckled the thick leather belt. He looked up as he pulled it slowly from the buckle, then put the end in his mouth and licked up and down its length, his eyes locked to Sam’s.
Sam made a picture, long hair damp and hanging half over his face but Dean could see his eyes clearly, pupils blown black, and Sam’s kiss-reddened lips parted as he panted harshly. He looked absolutely in awe of Dean at that moment, and Dean wanted to remember it forever.
“Deannnnnnnnn,” Sam groaned, and Dean sucked the tip of the belt into his mouth and made a show of getting it slick and wet while Sam drew in another graveled breath above him.
He popped the snap then and began to draw down the zipper, the leather parting and the smell of sweat and Sam filling his senses. Dean was aware of his mouth watering but he forced himself to go slow, to draw this out because maybe this one night of Halloween magic was all he was fucking ever going to get and he wanted to make it last. He kept Sam’s cock trapped as long as he could while Sam vibrated above him, his fingers clenching and unclenching around Dean’s shoulders like a vice but he let Dean set the pace and make the decisions. When Dean finally tugged the tight leather pants down enough to let Sam’s dick spring free, Sam whimpered above him like he was dying, and Dean chuckled as he planted a kiss on the dripping tip so Sam would whimper like that again.
“Please,” Sam finally said, and then Dean couldn’t bring himself to tease anymore. He’d done this enough – for all kinds of reasons over the years – to know what he was doing, but he was far from an expert and Sam was bigger than just about anyone he’d blown ever, but from the noises Sam made Dean figured he was being impressive enough. He wrapped his fist around the length he couldn’t take, trying to remember how Sam’s dick was hard as steel in his hand, how it felt, how it tasted, and gave into the need to give Sam pleasure, letting himself drool and choke and relishing in Sam’s hands tangled in his hair and urging him on.
Sam had the presence of mind to push him away when he came, which Dean wasn’t entirely expecting, which meant that he ended up with a face full. He closed his eyes just in time, because that stuff stung like a bitch, but opened his mouth and let the rest of it land where it might.
“Jesuschrist Dean,” Sam swore above him, so he knew he must be making quite a picture with his makeup smudged to hell and his face covered in Sam’s jizz.
“Dean,” Sam said breathlessly, and reached down to pull him up. Sam’s hands were gentle on his face as he wiped some of the mess off, and Dean opened his eyes to see Sam right there, just in time to catch a glimpse of how blown away Sam was before Sam’s mouth was on his again.
Dean’s own dick was still trapped and throbbing and it should have been painful, but he was riding such a high from getting Sam off so spectacularly that he could wait a little – until Sam’s hands found his ass again and then suddenly he needed to come like yesterday.
“Your turn,” Sam rasped in his ear, and then he spun Dean around and pushed him onto the bed. Dean landed on his belly and started to turn over but Sam grabbed him by the hips and held him still, untying the laces on his shorts and tugging them over sweat-slick skin to his knees and then right off over his boots.
“What—“ Dean managed, and then he was being put on all fours and Sam had him by the hips again.
“Just stay still and like it,” Sam ordered, and then he licked the sweat from where it had puddled in the small of Dean’s back and just kept going, his hot wet tongue making its way down the crack and finding his hole and just diving right in. Dean would have come right up off the bed if Sam wasn’t holding him down, half from the shock that his probably-mostly-vanilla little brother would do that and half from the fact that it felt like he’d been electrocuted from the inside out in the best way possible. He tried to scramble away because it was too much, but Sam got a hand on each cheek and pulled him wide and got in there as far as he could, and fuck if his tongue wasn’t as big and strong as the rest of him. Dean felt like his insides were melting, the pleasure spreading through him until it felt unbearable – inconceivable – not to give in to orgasm. But Sam dragged it out, licked him until he was mewling and writhing and begging before he finally flipped Dean over and swallowed his cock with the same gusto he put into everything he did.
Dean yowled with the pleasure and the shock of almost instant release, and didn’t even do Sam the same courtesy by trying to warn him and push him off. Sam took it like a trooper though, swallowing down most of what felt like it was exploding out of Dean’s dick and wiping the rest from his mouth as he finally pulled off.
“Jesuschrist,” Dean said, falling back on the bed with a new understanding of what boneless truly meant.
Sam flopped down beside him. “Yeah,” he agreed.
It was quiet for a few minutes, and Dean started to wonder where Sam’s head was at and if this had been perhaps the biggest mistake of their lives.
“So,” Sam said finally, matter of fact. “Change of plans, I guess.”
“Uh…what plans?” Dean asked articulately.
Sam turned just enough to lock eyes with Dean. His face was still pink, suffused with what looked like affection.
“I know we said we’d take these costumes back, but….I vote we keep ‘em.”
“You kinky fucker,” Dean answered, trying to stop his heart from pounding so hard he was sure Sam could hear it.
“Maybe we can try vanilla next time,” Sam said, and grinned.
Pairing – Sam/Dean
Rating - NC-17
Word count – 4000
Written for
salt_burn_porn for the prompt “well met by moonlight”It was just supposed to get Sam flustered. Make him blush and splutter and look away, make his underlying very vanilla prude self that Dean was sure was there come to the surface so Dean would be able to make fun of him for it forever. Maybe he got a little more into it than was necessary, but that was after Sam researched the fancy party they were about to infiltrate and pronounced it “known for being the showplace of the very best Halloween costumes the Big Apple has to offer for over 20 years”.
The advertisements didn’t mention the three murders that seemed to be happening every five years like clockwork at the Monsters Ball, or the fact that the murderer was never caught thanks to apparently having an impenetrable disguise. This year was the fifth anniversary once again, and Sam and Dean weren’t taking any chances. In order to get past the velvet rope, their costumes had to be bona fide next-to-professional or at least Comic Con cosplay level, so Dean had good reason for going above and beyond and swiping a few things from the makeup aisle in CVS to go along with the rest of his outfit. He’d snickered as he pulled on the leather shorts with the weird laces up the sides and the cropped vest which was too tight but kinda felt good anyway, imagining Sam’s affronted reaction. After a couple of attempts, he decided to go light on the mascara and blush – he didn’t want to scare Sam too much by making himself look like a clown – but years of having to aim a gun had given him a steady hand so the kohl liner and shadow went on just fine, if he didn’t say so himself. Screw it, he didn’t need a lot of mascara anyway, he knew his assets.
Dean batted his lashes experimentally in the mirror and grinned. Oh yeah, Sam was gonna give him bitchface number three for sure. It was one of Dean’s favorites. The costume shop they’d ‘borrowed’ their outfits from was the supplier for a local theater company in addition to a Halloween favorite, so Dean’s had come complete with a thick leather collar studded with fake rhinestones, a couple of leather arm bands and a leash that attached to a ring on the collar. Dean looped that around his neck and looked forward to daring anyone to try to put him on it. The costume also came with spiky black stilettos so Dean just put his own worn leather boots back on because who could chase after a murderous monster wearing those things?
They didn’t have a lot of time, so Dean had called dibs on the motel bathroom as soon as they got back and put his costume on in there, leaving Sam to get dressed on the other side. Sam started bitching at him to hurry up, predictably, but Dean just shushed him with “can’t rush perfection, Sammy.”
He was still snickering, wishing he had his cell phone at the ready to record Sam’s bitchface, when he opened the door and came face to face with his brother.
Dean wasn’t proud of his reaction – he wasn’t supposed to be the one flustered and shocked and blushing but DAMN. Sam had clearly gone to the other section of the store and grabbed something that fit him like it had been custom designed. It was simple enough….yet not. Black leather pants that looked like they’d been painted onto Sam’s muscular calves and thighs, with a zipper fly that was embellished by silver studding to….accentuate it? A thick leather belt with matching studs was definitely not needed to hold the pants up, but Sam sported one anyway. No shirt was part of the costume at all. Instead, Sam had one of those leather strap contraptions that crossed behind his broad back and came together in the middle of his chest in a large silver ring, the two top sections perfectly framing his pink nipples and showing off the muscularity of his chest. Thick black leather wrist-to-elbow cuff with more studs completed the top half of the costume. Sam had something looped casually around his neck too; it was a whip.
Dean looked up, trying to think of something funny to say, and realized with a shock that Sam was looming over him even more than usual. He looked down to see that the black leather boots Sam was wearing had a bit of a platform sole and stacked heel. Jesus, like Sam needed more height to look imposing!
They stared at each other for way too long, until the awkwardness made Dean start to sweat in his leather shorts and he took a step back, put some distance between them.
“Jesuschrist Sam, you really took this seriously,” he managed finally. He didn’t think his voice cracked.
“You’re one to talk,” Sam answered, “You – do you have on? Is that?” He broke off suddenly and it was definitely breathy and flustered but somehow it wasn’t anything like what Dean was expecting and anticipating making fun of.
“We should go,” they said in unison, and Dean had never been so grateful that Halloween was in October and it was chilly in New York at night. Sam stalked along beside him with his giant legs eating up the pavement even more than usual in those goddamn boots and Dean hurried to keep up before Sam realized he was hurrying to keep up. He felt off balance somehow, like he couldn’t be the big brother when he was dressed like this and Sam was dressed like… that. It made him hyper aware of just how broad Sam’s shoulders were, just how grown up and powerful his “little” brother had become. God, these shorts were tight.
Two hours in, they had finally figured out who the actual monster was just as the “inner circle” part of the evening began. That was the private party only accessible to the patrons whose costumes had qualified them as “the best and most outrageous”. It was also the party where all three of the murders had taken place.
“How are we gonna get in there?” Dean grumbled. He’d had to watch a million women – and half a million men at least – ogle Sam since they’d arrived and it was downright annoying. Never mind that dozens of people of both genders had pinched his ass and called him “sweetheart”.
“I don’t know, but we have to, and NOW,” Sam said, and then he grabbed Dean by the shoulder and pushed him bodily toward the small stage at the front of the room where the emcee was almost finished deciding who got in.
“Hey,” Dean started to protest, but Sam hissed “follow my lead” and they both were good at doing that when they were on a job so he did.
Sam stalked onto the stage and loomed above the emcee by a good foot, pulling Dean up with him and then spinning him around to face the crowd.
“I think we belong in there,” Sam said with authority. “I mean, who doesn’t think this naughty boy deserves to put on a show?”
Dean’s mouth fell open at the same time as the crowd began to applaud, and then the emcee was shoving a chair across the stage. Sam’s hand gripped the back of Dean’s leather collar and yanked him backwards, and Dean couldn’t quite stifle the surprised yelp but he trusted Sam’s hands on him no matter what so he went with it as Sam sat down and twisted Dean so he landed flat on Sam’s lap.
“Naughty naughty naughty naughty” the crowd began to chant and Dean couldn’t quite get his head around what was going to happen before Sam’s gigantic hand came down on his leather-covered ass with a smack that could be heard over both the music and the chanting.
His instinct was to kick and lash out and his feet did both without his conscious decision, but Sam still had his fingers slipped under Dean’s collar and he pulled up tight enough to make Dean instinctively freeze.
“Show them how you take your punishment,” Sam growled, loudly for the sake of the crowd, and his hand came down on Dean’s other cheek just as hard.
Dean wheezed through the restraint of the leather collar, self protective instinct warring with this-is-Sam-he-won’t-hurt-you instinct, and the lack of oxygen and his maybe a little bit of exhibitionist streak made Dean’s dick chub up in his shorts. He couldn’t help but rock his hips a little, and after another couple of smacks, Sam loosened his grip and let Dean breathe.
“More more more more more” the crowd enthused, and Sam indulged them. This time he pushed Dean’s legs apart and slapped him on the bare skin of his upper thighs just beneath the shorts and it stung like a sonofabitch. Dean squirmed and gritted his teeth against the yowl of protest that wanted to come out, and when he did he felt Sam tense beneath him, his hips twisting too, and Dean felt like a fucking rod the hard line of Sam’s dick poking his exposed belly.
Sam must have known he felt it, because he let Dean go abruptly, pushing him off and standing himself. Dean wobbled for a second, trying to find his footing with his head still foggy, his eyes snagged on the bulge beneath Sam’s studded zipper.
“Seen enough?” Sam addressed the emcee, and Dean suddenly remembered the case that he’d completely forgotten.
“Use the whip!” some asshole in the crowd yelled out, and the emcee got an evil grin on his face.
“One time,” he crooned, looking lasciviously from Sam to Dean.
Sam’s eyes caught Dean’s, and Dean nodded. Sam’s cheeks were flushed bright pink, the tips of his ears red. Even his nipples were stiff, the sparse hair there glistening with beads of sweat.
Dean took one step toward him, then dropped smoothly to his knees. He heard the crowd gasp and knew it was the right move, but he heard Sam gasp too, saw his fingers twitch as he pulled the whip from around his neck and held it in one leather cuffed hand.
Dean didn’t have to look down to know that his shorts were about to bust open from the erection they barely contained. His thighs trembled as he turned his back to Sam and then went to his hands and knees.
“Jesusfuck,” he heard Sam swear, and then the whip smacked down on his ass. Sam was careful to make sure it didn’t hit bare flesh but it hurt just the same and Dean did yelp that time. He didn’t move though, and he thought that was probably what made Sam swear again.
“Admitted,” the emcee said, and Sam was helping him up then. The look on Sam’s face said they were gonna have to talk about this later and also that he never wanted to talk about this later, and then they were through the door and it was only two minutes later that the monster made its move. Luckily it was during crazy disco lit blacklights and even louder music than in the other room, and luckily the lore they’d found was correct, and they had the dead thing out the door before anyone realized it or they were missing.
Five minutes later they were turning the corner into a deserted alley headed for the motel, breathless but exhilarated because when do hunts ever go that smoothly? The sharp turn brought Sam up short and he skidded to a halt, which brought Dean right up against him. Sam got his arms out quickly enough to forestall an all-out collision, and Dean thought about his brother’s lightning fast reflexes and strong arms and how much he appreciated both.
“Whoa,” Sam said, still panting, and held Dean at arm’s length without letting go. His eyes darted from Dean’s kohl-rimmed eyes to his glossed red mouth and then back again, and Dean shivered suddenly. Sam’s long hair was wild from the fight and the run, his cheekbones outlined by the light of the full moon behind him, making him a dark silhouette; dangerous.
Sam’s lip curled, just a little. “Well met by moonlight,” he said, strangely soft. It was just Sam being a geek, Dean knew, but he shivered again, thought about how he should push Sam off him and make a joke of it but the words wouldn’t come.
“Look at you,” Sam went on in that same low voice, “You drove everyone in there nuts. The perfect distraction.”
“Everyone?” Dean asked, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
Sam stared at him like a challenge; Dean raised his chin and stared back. Accepted.
Sam’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t back down.
“I think so,” Sam said.
“Yeah?” Dean shuffled just that much closer; his face was angled perfectly for what he suddenly very much wanted Sam to do, and Sam knew it.
Sam didn’t answer. He leaned down just enough to take what was on offer, their lips brushing chastely. It could have ended there. They could have laughed it off as post hunt adrenaline or stupid costume ideas. Instead Dean opened his mouth and pushed in harder and a shudder ran down his entire body when Sam responded immediately, his tongue in Dean’s mouth and his arms tight around Dean’s back, practically lifting him off his feet with the force of Sam’s kiss.
Dean had just enough time to grab a handful of Sam’s hair to make sure he was giving as good as getting before Sam pulled away, but it was enough time for that to send Dean’s stomach plummeting with disappointment even if he’d never admit it.
“C’mon,” Sam said and started off down the alley in giant strides. He looked over his shoulder and the moonlight lit up the anticipation painted all over his face as he added, “We need the motel for this.”
They ran part of the way just because they wanted to, not because anything was chasing them but because they were finally chasing each other. Neither could remember where they’d put the door key in leather costumes that had no pockets, but Dean finally found it in his boot after they got distracted patting each other down in search of it.
“Come ON,” Sam complained as he fumbled the lock a few times, but finally they were inside and the door was closed and by unspoken agreement they both knew that hesitation was sure to be the death of this ridiculous idea they’d had so they were on each other so quickly they nearly lost their balance and landed on the floor. Sam’s hands slid down his back and landed on his ass, pulling Dean up on his toes as they went back to devouring each other’s mouths and Dean was reminded again that Sam was like seven feet tall and while once he had been Dean’s little brother there was absolutely nothing little about him now.
That thought was a shockingly effective aphrodisiac, along with Sam’s hands possessively kneading at his ass cheeks, and Dean let loose the groan that was trapped in his chest and ground his hips against Sam’s, leather against leather. The sound was more needy than he’d intended, but it just spurred Sam on, one of his hands grappling with the laces on the sides of Dean’s shorts and another shoved right down the back of them.
“Fuck,” Sam growled against Dean’s bruised mouth, “Fuckin’ wet,” and it was true, Dean was slick with sweat and so was Sam, the smell of damp leather thick in the room. Sam’s fingers slid down his crack and poked at his hole and there was no way Sam was getting in there with just sweat but it didn’t matter, just the intent of it hit Dean like a shock wave, and he moaned again as his dick tried to swell more against the confines of the tight leather shorts.
“God, god,” Sam was saying, like he’d forgotten all that impressive vocabulary and Dean was smug for a second before one of Sam’s fingers managed to poke inside him just a fraction and then even coherent thought was too much. Dean smashed a hand between them and rubbed over the thick bulge in Sam’s pants and Sam shuddered so violently Dean could feel it everywhere they were pressed together.
“Ohgod,” Sam muttered and he sounded so desperate, so overcome with want, that all of Dean’s instincts kicked in at once and told him to give it to Sam and give it to him NOW.
Sam’s hand slid out of his shorts when he dropped to his knees and there was a groan of complaint before Dean leaned in and mouthed over Sam’s studded fly, getting his teeth around the bulge and putting pressure where he felt the swollen head and then Sam fucking keened, his knees buckling before he righted himself with both hands on Dean’s shoulders.
“FUCK!” Sam gasped, so Dean did it again, and again, hands on Sam’s hips to hold him steady and then on his ass to feel the clench and release of those muscular cheeks as Sam thrust against him helplessly. When Sam started to say his name, Dean finally took pity on him and unbuckled the thick leather belt. He looked up as he pulled it slowly from the buckle, then put the end in his mouth and licked up and down its length, his eyes locked to Sam’s.
Sam made a picture, long hair damp and hanging half over his face but Dean could see his eyes clearly, pupils blown black, and Sam’s kiss-reddened lips parted as he panted harshly. He looked absolutely in awe of Dean at that moment, and Dean wanted to remember it forever.
“Deannnnnnnnn,” Sam groaned, and Dean sucked the tip of the belt into his mouth and made a show of getting it slick and wet while Sam drew in another graveled breath above him.
He popped the snap then and began to draw down the zipper, the leather parting and the smell of sweat and Sam filling his senses. Dean was aware of his mouth watering but he forced himself to go slow, to draw this out because maybe this one night of Halloween magic was all he was fucking ever going to get and he wanted to make it last. He kept Sam’s cock trapped as long as he could while Sam vibrated above him, his fingers clenching and unclenching around Dean’s shoulders like a vice but he let Dean set the pace and make the decisions. When Dean finally tugged the tight leather pants down enough to let Sam’s dick spring free, Sam whimpered above him like he was dying, and Dean chuckled as he planted a kiss on the dripping tip so Sam would whimper like that again.
“Please,” Sam finally said, and then Dean couldn’t bring himself to tease anymore. He’d done this enough – for all kinds of reasons over the years – to know what he was doing, but he was far from an expert and Sam was bigger than just about anyone he’d blown ever, but from the noises Sam made Dean figured he was being impressive enough. He wrapped his fist around the length he couldn’t take, trying to remember how Sam’s dick was hard as steel in his hand, how it felt, how it tasted, and gave into the need to give Sam pleasure, letting himself drool and choke and relishing in Sam’s hands tangled in his hair and urging him on.
Sam had the presence of mind to push him away when he came, which Dean wasn’t entirely expecting, which meant that he ended up with a face full. He closed his eyes just in time, because that stuff stung like a bitch, but opened his mouth and let the rest of it land where it might.
“Jesuschrist Dean,” Sam swore above him, so he knew he must be making quite a picture with his makeup smudged to hell and his face covered in Sam’s jizz.
“Dean,” Sam said breathlessly, and reached down to pull him up. Sam’s hands were gentle on his face as he wiped some of the mess off, and Dean opened his eyes to see Sam right there, just in time to catch a glimpse of how blown away Sam was before Sam’s mouth was on his again.
Dean’s own dick was still trapped and throbbing and it should have been painful, but he was riding such a high from getting Sam off so spectacularly that he could wait a little – until Sam’s hands found his ass again and then suddenly he needed to come like yesterday.
“Your turn,” Sam rasped in his ear, and then he spun Dean around and pushed him onto the bed. Dean landed on his belly and started to turn over but Sam grabbed him by the hips and held him still, untying the laces on his shorts and tugging them over sweat-slick skin to his knees and then right off over his boots.
“What—“ Dean managed, and then he was being put on all fours and Sam had him by the hips again.
“Just stay still and like it,” Sam ordered, and then he licked the sweat from where it had puddled in the small of Dean’s back and just kept going, his hot wet tongue making its way down the crack and finding his hole and just diving right in. Dean would have come right up off the bed if Sam wasn’t holding him down, half from the shock that his probably-mostly-vanilla little brother would do that and half from the fact that it felt like he’d been electrocuted from the inside out in the best way possible. He tried to scramble away because it was too much, but Sam got a hand on each cheek and pulled him wide and got in there as far as he could, and fuck if his tongue wasn’t as big and strong as the rest of him. Dean felt like his insides were melting, the pleasure spreading through him until it felt unbearable – inconceivable – not to give in to orgasm. But Sam dragged it out, licked him until he was mewling and writhing and begging before he finally flipped Dean over and swallowed his cock with the same gusto he put into everything he did.
Dean yowled with the pleasure and the shock of almost instant release, and didn’t even do Sam the same courtesy by trying to warn him and push him off. Sam took it like a trooper though, swallowing down most of what felt like it was exploding out of Dean’s dick and wiping the rest from his mouth as he finally pulled off.
“Jesuschrist,” Dean said, falling back on the bed with a new understanding of what boneless truly meant.
Sam flopped down beside him. “Yeah,” he agreed.
It was quiet for a few minutes, and Dean started to wonder where Sam’s head was at and if this had been perhaps the biggest mistake of their lives.
“So,” Sam said finally, matter of fact. “Change of plans, I guess.”
“Uh…what plans?” Dean asked articulately.
Sam turned just enough to lock eyes with Dean. His face was still pink, suffused with what looked like affection.
“I know we said we’d take these costumes back, but….I vote we keep ‘em.”
“You kinky fucker,” Dean answered, trying to stop his heart from pounding so hard he was sure Sam could hear it.
“Maybe we can try vanilla next time,” Sam said, and grinned.