Dean Winchester (forgetthehearse) wrote in drinkingdjinn, @ 2009-04-24 01:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | dean winchester, sam winchester, sam/dean, season 0.5 |
Episode 0.5x02 - Rest Stop
Who: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
When: A few weeks after How To Ask Your Brother Out
What: Dean finds a way to entertain himself on the road.
Where: Highway, Middle of Nowhere
Dean was attempting to distract himself, he really was, flipping through his tapes time and time again, organizing them by band, and then by album name, before finally putting the whole thing away and glancing at Sam. Boredom was not an uncommon thing on the road, for the two of them, and things had been extremely quiet the last fifty miles - he could not even remember the last time he saw another car - and all Dean had left to do was think. He wanted to get to a hotel soon, but there did not seem to be one of those anywhere near, either. He shifted awkwardly, his mind having plenty fun playing its own Casa Erotica channel. God, there was not even a bathroom to hit to jerk off real quick. An idea had been forming in his mind, but getting the courage up to do it was taking a while.
Dean's fidgeting is reminding Sam all too well of that first night when they crossed a line that neither of them wanted to uncross. He glances over at Dean, briefly, mostly keeping his eyes on the long, empty road ahead of them.
"Have you ever considered a book or something? It's better than messing with your tapes for hours on end." He licks at his lips, trying not to let his mind wander to other things Dean could do to get rid if excess energy.
"I'll I've got is skin mags." Which would not help either of them at the moment. Just thinking of it did not help. "And there's not going to be a place to stop anytime soon, is there?" He worried the seam of his pant leg, licking his lips absentmindedly.
"I have books. Or you could buy a book, instead of just skin mags. That way you wouldn't be so bored." He sighs a little, praying for more patience to deal with his brother. "No, Dean. There's not going to be a place to stop for -- " he glances over at the map, "At least another fifty miles. Find a way to entertain yourself."
"Fifty miles, huh? And the road's kind of empty." If he is scooting a little bit closer, well, maybe Sam will not notice. He takes his seatbelt off slowly, trying to both think of what to do and to not think of it before he can embarass himself.
"It does appear to be that way." At least it makes for quick traveling. They'll reach the next town by dusk and can bunk down for the night, get an early start in the morning.
"Nothing to hit," he mentions, trying to sound casual, but his voice has dipped of its own accord. Even if he ran them off the road, there was nothing but cornfields for miles. Barely even any good fences. He moves until their shoulders are almost touching, running a hand down his own leg.
... something's shifted in the conversation, Sam can feel that. He swallows and tries to just concentrate on the road, not the fact that Dean's so close and smells so good. "I guess so..." he murmurs, clearing his throat as his voice goes as low as Dean's for a moment. "No cops or anything, either," though he's not sure why he feels the need to point that out.
"That's always a good thing," he mentions, letting his hand wander over to Sam's leg, instead, drawing downwards to his knee, and then back up along his thigh, eyes still on the road.
Sam gasps and grips the steering wheel tighter, his eyes closing for only a moment before snapping open again. "Dean -- what are you -- " He's pretty sure he knows exactly where his brother's mind is, and isn't entirely sure he likes it.
"Entertaining myself?" He looks at Sam out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge his reaction as he strokes his thigh, not moving any higher just yet.
"I'm not -- sure that's a good idea." Though Sam isn't making a move to stop him just yet. He shifts, legs spreading apart a little wider, giving Dean permission despite his reluctant words.
"You just might want to keep an eye on the road," he suggests, leaning over to press a kiss to his jawline, using his other hand to slide down his stomach and between his legs, rubbing lightly.
"OhmygodDean..." he breathes, hardly believing this is happening, that Dean's hands and mouth are all over him as he's -- attempting to drive. Sam moans quietly, his eyes slipping shut again before he forces them open to watch where he's going. "Fuck -- "
"Careful," he whispers into his ear, nipping at the lobe. He should not be doing this, or at least he should be telling Sam to pull over, but the purr of the motor and the feeling of movement is only adding to his arousal. He rubs harder, liking the way Sam's breathing changes.
"Dean you can't -- " Sam's breath catches and he bites down on his lip, trying to use the pain to focus himself a little. "God -- at least let me pull over or something -- " He presses his hips against Dean's hand, wanting to be able to touch him, in return.
"If you want..." He kisses down his neck. "Or I'll just go slow." He cannot help but grin a bit, terribly aroused and loving every bit of this.
He hates his brother. So much. He's evil and -- does terrible things with his tongue that feel so fucking good. His hips start moving against Dean's hand and -- fuck, he can't do this. Sam pulls off to the side of the road, turning the car off and grabbing the back of Dean's neck, kissing him hard.
Dean moans into his mouth, pressing him back against the seat, pushing his palm harder against him. He gets up onto his knees, bending over him as best he can in the small space of the car.
"Mmph -- wait -- " Sam pushes Dean back against the seat, scrambling over to straddle his lap, nearly cracking his head against the ceiling of the car. "Back seat?"
Dean pushes him up and clambers over, before pulling Sam down over to kiss him again. He pushes his hips up against Sam's, grinding mercilessly.
Sam groans and licks over Dean's lips, one hand in his hair, the other hand pushing up under his shirt. It's insane, but no one has ever been able to turn him on as fast as Dean does. That low, purely sexual voice in his ear and the teasing fingers get him every damn time.
Dean's hands roam over his brother's body, down his back and over his ass, squeezing tightly and forcing his hips down against him. He is used to letting himself go, but not losing control like this, where he is completely taken over by his lust. He nips at Sam's tongue, before sliding his own into his mouth.
He breaks the kiss only for a moment, to pull Dean's shirt off, before diving back in. His hands wander eagerly over Dean's chest, nails dragging across his stomach and over his hips, the friction of their hips together driving him out of his head. Sam undoes the button of Dean's jeans, murmuring "Wantyou" against his lips.
Dean's only answer is a moan, hands scrambling to unhook Sam's as well, pushing them down roughly, boxers and all. He wishes there was enough room to strip Sammy down, have him completely naked over him, straddling his hips like this; instead he settles for pushing Sam's shirt up, trying to get him to take it off.
Sam pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it it -- god knows where, in the direction of the back seat. After a moment of awkward maneuvering (and a little swearing), he manages to stretch out on top of Dean, kicking his jeans and boxers off. "There," he laughs, moving back to straddle Dean again, kissing over his neck and shoulder.
Dean laughs with him. "Much better." He runs his fingers over the expanse of skin, tracing the lines of scars, not as many as he or John, put plenty enough to leave tracework across his body.
"Glovebox," he says, after trying to sit up and failing, instead deciding to focus on kissing any part of him he can reach.
He lifts his hips a little, to push Dean's jeans and boxers as far down as possible, before twisting around to open the glove compartment. Where he is met not only by lube, but also more condoms than any one human should require. He opens his mouth to say something, then changes his mind, shaking his head and grabbing the lube before shutting the glovebox again.
"What?" Dean grins up at him, taking the lube from him and opening it. He stops as he is putting some on his fingers, looking up at Sam. "- if - you know."
"Nothing," he murmurs, amused, as he leans down to nibble at Dean's neck. The drugstore of condoms in the car is just something that is very -- Dean. It makes Sam happy, in a weird way. Like the universe is still more or less in order. "If what?"
God, Sam, be psychic already, he thinks, forcefully keeping himself from blushing. He lets his hand slide down Sam's back and over his ass, keeping an eye on his expression.
Sam makes an encouraging noise, shifting back to brush against Dean's fingers. He brushes his lips against the freckles on Dean's cheek, just under his eye, skimming his fingertips over Dean's chest. Some day, he wants to spend an entire weekend, kissing every single one of Dean's freckles. That that's for some time when they're not in the car, getting ready to fuck outside of a cornfield in the side of the road.
Dean carefully presses a finger against him, drawing him into a kiss as he slides it in, nice and slow. Sammy's always so - loving, when they do this. Not that he cannot get his brother riled up, but it is always so personal with Sam, downright intimate.
Sam loves the way they can go from fast and eager, to slow and gentle, and back again so easily. He inhales sharply as Dean slides a finger into him, exhaling slowly against Dean's lips. God, it always feels amazing, Dean invading him like this, taking him over.
He presses in further, rocking his hips up against Sam's slowly, taking his time and enjoying ever little sensation, every little admission of pleasure that comes from Sam. He sucks on his bottom lip, nipping it ever so slightly.
He parts his lips for Dean, his fingers sliding down to tease over Dean's hipbones. Godthat'sgood... he moves his hips against Dean's hand a little, his tongue darting out to trace over Dean's lower lip.
Dean moans, capturing his tongue with his lips and sucking it gently. He starts to work another finger inside of him, thrusting in and out with small movements, his other hand sliding down to stroke him.
Sam's movements grow more insistant as arousal starts to curl its way out from the base of his spine to the edges of his body. He grips the back of seat with one hand, trying to shift to get Dean to hit that one delicious spot he'd shown him before.
Dean crooks his fingers inside of him, his lips curving into a smile as he feels Sam press against him. He spreads his fingers slightly, trying to please him more.
As Dean's fingers shift and spread just the right way, Sam lets out a low groan, his fingers digging into the seat. He presses down against Dean's fingers, his kiss turning more frantic and eager.
Jackpot. Dean nearly purrs into the kiss, moving his fingers faster, before withdrawing them completely, his other hand groping for the lube again, unwilling to postpone this any longer.
Sam grabs the lube and presses it into Dean's hand, tugging at his lower lip with his teeth. It hits him that this is probably a horrible idea, that just because they haven't seen any cops doesn't mean there aren't any, that they really shouldn't be doing this here. But then Sam shifts and his cock brushes against Dean's and he shivers as all thoughts leave his head.
That causes Dean to gasp, pressing up against him as his hands fumble with the lube, before slicking his fingers again and pulling away to stroke himself. He drops the tube and reaches up to grip Sam's hip, guiding him over him.
Sam braces his hands against the back of the seat, carefully shifting forward and down onto Dean. He tilts his head back with a low moan, his nails digging into the leather seat as he rests there for a moment, adjusting to the way Dean feels.
"Don't- mark up my seat-" Dean pants, only keeping his hips still with great effort. He digs his own nails into Sam's thighs, trying to keeps steady.
He has to laugh, loosening his grip on the seat. "This -- was your idea," he breathes, grinning down at Dean. He grinds his hips slowly, teasing both himself and Dean, watching Dean's face for a reaction.
Dean makes a sound low in his throat, pushing up insistantly. "Doesn't mean you have to take it out on my girl," he mutters between gasps, his breath having a hard time getting out of his throat.
"You need -- " another sharp grind of his hips, leaning in to murmur against Dean's ear. "To work out your priorities." He grins, biting at Dean's ear as he starts to rock his hips slowly against him, moaning softly.
He whimpers slightly, leaving finger length marks on Sam's skin. "They're in order," he means to say, but it does not come out smoothly, punctuated by small sounds of pleasure. He bucks up against him, not wanting to go slow anymore, desperate for more.
Sam tries to keep going slow, wanting to tease Dean a little more, but Dean bucking up against him like that feels too damn good. He drags his nails over Dean's biceps, biting at his neck as he starts riding him harder.
Dean gasps as he feels Sam's nails on his skin, digging his own into his back as he thrusts upwards. "Sammy,ohGodSammy-" He never imagined that it would feel this good to do this, to have Sam like this, to bury himself so very deep.
He tangles a hand in Dean's hair and tilts his head back, leaving him room to kiss and taste and bite all that delicious skin along his throat. He's torn between wanting to kiss Dean and wanting to hear him fall apart like that. "FuckDean -- " he gasps, reaching a hand between them to wrap around himself, shivering and grinding down hard against Dean.
God, Sam is going to kill him. He moans, letting him pull his head back and giving him all the skin he wants, stroking his fingers and nails wildly across his back. Every shock of pleasure leaves him gasping for more, muscles sore from moving against him so fiercely.
His legs are going to be so sore and his back raw but he wouldn't give this up for anything. He presses kisses to Dean's neck, haphazardly leaving marks from his teeth, some that might wind up as bruises. "Oh Dean -- please -- " he whimpers, fumbling for Dean's hand, wanting to feel Dean's fingers against him instead of his own.
Dean complies, wrapping his hand around Sam and stroking him hard and fast, before his thinking makes a rare breakthrough. "Don't come on my seats," he warns, biting at Sam's lips, unable to keep completely apart from him.
Sam moans in frustration, biting back at Dean's lips in retaliation. "Then don't -- touch me yet -- " His head falls forward against Dean's shoulder and he tries to push Dean's hand away. "You make this -- so much more complicated than it needs to be -- "
"I'll make it up to you," Dean promises, releasing him before pulling his head up to kiss him fiercely. He is so close, he can feel it in every nerve, but all he wants to do is to keep thrusting against Sam and never stop.
"GodIhateyou -- " he groans, kissing Dean fiercely and trying to hold out, trying to keep from coming just yet, since he's really pretty sure that if he fucks up the Impala at all, Dean will leave his naked ass on the side of the road. So he digs his nails into Dean's shoulders, biting at his lip and riding him hard, whimpering into the kiss.
Dean would say something witty, he really would, maybe even sarcastic and biting, but instead he is burying his face in Sam's neck and crying out his name, completely losing himself. He digs his fingers into his back, arms flung completely around him, holding him tight and trying to remember how to breathe.
Sam slows to a stop, still dusting breathless kisses over Dean's jaw, onto his shoulder. "Dean -- please -- " he whimpers breathlessly, aching with the need for release. Stupid Dean and his ridiculous rules about his car.
Damn impatient man, wanting him to move. He reluctantly lets him go with a groan. "Roll over," he mutters, trying to shift so he can roll on top of him.
Dean would do the same in Sam's position, he's sure. As quickly as he's able to, he shifts to stretch out on his back on the seat, pulling Dean down to kiss him, wrapping a leg around his waist.
Dean kisses him breathlessly, before forcing himself to pull away, trailing open mouthed kisses down Sam's chest. He strokes his fingers across his hip bones as he gets down low enough, looking up at him as he places a kiss along their path.
Sam tangles a hand in Dean's hair, reaching up with his other hand to grab the back of the seat -- no nails, this time. Dean's mouth is so close to where Sam needs it, and he shifts his hips in anticipation, biting down on his lip.
He hesitates for a moment before moving his lips to press against him, slowly taking the tip of him into his mouth. He forces Sam's hips down, pinning them to the seat.
"Ohgod..." he breathes, tugging lightly at Dean's hair. It's been so long since he's done this, but he has no doubt that Dean's mouth will feel perfect. He tries to press up against Dean's hands, his breath hard and shallow.
Almost shyly, he takes him in farther, tongue tasting him carefully before he starts to suck, trying to think of all the little things he likes, so that he can do them for Sam, make him moan and squirm underneath him.
The fingers in Dean's hair slide down to stroke over his jaw and his eyes slip shut in pleasure. As Dean takes him in deeper, Sam's grip tightens on the leather and he moans softly, his skin still tingling from fucking Dean into the seat.
Dean picks up the pace, becoming bolder, drawing his tongue along the underside of him as he sucks, one hand releasing Sam's hip to curl around the base of his erection, teasing it with the pads of his fingers.
Sam clenches his jaw against a groan, his back arching off the seat before he slams back against it, panting and moaning. "Dean -- ohgod not long -- " he warns, stroking his fingers through Dean's hair again.
Dean hums an affirmation around him, almost moaning himself at the noises Sam is making. He lets him go completely, sliding his free hand down to slip a finger back inside of him, teasing and stroking, wanting to make him lose his last bit of resistance.
Sam swears his eyes roll back in his head, his toes curling and every muscle in his body tensing as he feels himself come apart completely, moaning Dean's name in a pleasure that edges on pain.
Dean pulls away, swallowing quickly with a wipe of his mouth, glancing down at Sam. God, there is a beautiful sight, his brother sprawled out in the back of his car, naked, sweaty, breathless. And he feels an odd pride at being the one who has made him that way. He leans over him again, seeking his lips and kissing him roughly.
God, he feels like he could melt into the seat. Sam wraps his arms almost lazily around Dean's neck, returning the kiss slow and sloppy, but utterly contentedly. Right now, all he wants to do is curl up with Dean in the back of the car and sleep for a while; he tends to feel totally relaxed and peaceful after sex, but he's strange like that.
"Good?" Dean murmurs, grinning against his lips. He settles on top of him, before reaching up and strokes Sam's hair away from his forehead, letting his fingers slide back over it in a nearly loving fashion.
Sam just laughs, running his hands over Dean's back and kissing him gently. "Yeah, I guess it was pretty good." Maybe he'll go along with Dean's crazy ideas more often. ... okay, maybe just the ones involving amazing sex.
"Just pretty good? I think I'm offended." He would tease Sam more, but instead he is tucking his face back against his neck and letting go of a sigh, content to stay here, warm and comfortable.
"Mm, really pretty good?" He wraps his arms comfortably around Dean, closing his eyes with a sigh of his own and relaxing, sort of wishing they had a blanket or something, and hoping that no cops decided to come by any time soon.
Dean's thinking the same thing, and he fishes their jackets out of the front seat, spreading them over. It is not much cover, but a little, and it will keep them from flashing any hapless passer-by, at least. He does not know what to say, now, so he just closes his eyes and enjoys being close to him.