User: jenish (posted by fizzyblogic) Date: 2007-08-16 11:52 Subject: (no subject) Security: Public Tags: fandom:spn, sam/dean

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{Supernatural FPS. R. Sam/Dean. 100% disclaimed. For Jocondite.}

Dean has dedicated his life to three things: 1) protecting Sam; 2) fighting demons and ghouls; 3) the fine art of giving women orgasms.

He is good at all of them.

Any jerk can chase women, get his rocks off, roll over and go to sleep; and yeah, Dean could do that too. That's how he started - oh, the heady days when he was feeling his way around a pair of breasts - but then he slept with an older woman who showed him exactly what to do; and when she came, Dean felt like he'd found a calling.

He'd perfected it over the years; encounters on the road, in between jobs; Cassie; pretty waitresses who smiled that smile at him; library chicks who helped him out researching when Dad was on a different job; they flocked to him. Dean knew he was hot. They seemed to know of his ... call it a gift. Talent. Artform. Best way of getting to sleep after years of seeing monsters and hunting them down.

The job wasn't pleasant. He had to get his kicks somewhere.

So when Sam came on the road with him, Dean was surprised that falling asleep hearing his breathing was enough. Just as long as he knew Sammy was safe, he'd done job #1 in his life, right?

That didn't explain the looks. It had been years; true, years in which he had kept an eye on Sam, but years nonetheless. Sam was taller than him now; he had gained something, the way he walked, the way he held himself; it captivated Dean.

He looked at Sam. Sam looked right back.

It started slow. There's only so long you can go sharing motel rooms without walking in on each other in the shower. Dean would notice Sam's body, clock himself noticing, remind himself not to notice again. Not realise he hadn't taken his eyes from that one spot, right above Sam's hip, where a droplet clung.

Then he felt, as they were thrown together against a wall trying very hard not to die, something digging into his leg. Sam, he knew, did not get off on the hunt.

It was in everything before Dean knew what had happened; in the way Sam would watch him sleep but pretend he hadn't been when Dean woke to see eyes pinned on him; in the way Dean's hand lingered just a touch too long on Sam's arm; in the way Sam's voice changed, just slightly, when he talked about Dean.

It took longer than he'd have liked, but Sam closed the door one night and gently pushed Dean against it. Sam's lips hit his neck, Sam's teeth grazed, and Dean arched his neck. Time to test his skills on another man.

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