Watching Me, Watching You

Fandom: Supernatural

Category/Rated: NC-17

Year/Length: 2007/~2,348 words

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Disclaimer: Dean and his Sam belong to Eric Kripke and Supernatural.

Summary: Just looking at Dean's face sent the shudders echoing through his flesh as he drew closer, closer... Yes, this is a filthy PWP and nothing more. No plot, no spoilers, just dirty, dirty boys. \o/

Author's Notes: This was written for Dru's birthday, because when she writes she gladdens my heart, and I'd like to gladden hers just a teeny wee bit.

Beta: The lovely lorelei633 did the honors, and I am truly grateful for her diligence.

It was the morning after one of those nights. The pale spring sun crept apologetically in through the window of their motel room. Dean lay sprawled on his belly, still asleep, his face buried in the pillows, one knee bent up. The covers were tangled at the foot of the bed. Sam lay on his side leaning up on one elbow, entranced as he gazed at his brother's naked body. He didn't feel hung over despite their carousing the night before. He just felt pleasantly hazy, sunlight dappling his skin, sending rainbows to blind him, seducing him into a morning with nothing particular to do except lie there and enjoy the view. The room smelled of stale booze, cologne, sweat, and sex, but that was okay by Sam. He felt good.

He lay there for a long while watching his brother sleep, watching him breathe, hearing the soft sighs he made as he slept. Dean was amazingly beautiful, lying there with his eyes closed against all the secrets he kept inside. His skin looked velvety soft and touchable, rosy, making Sam think of peaches, golden firm and sweet beneath the skin.

Sam couldn't stop himself from ghosting a finger down over the delicate curve of Dean's shoulder, tracing freckles down along his ribs and into the dip of his waist. He was fit, Dean was, muscle honed by years of training, delicately padded by a diet of roadside burgers and candy bars. Sam loved the contrast, soft, voluptuous flesh covering muscle as hard as iron. He was lost in his own thoughts, stroking with the very tips of his fingers, following the curve of hip along to the peachy round of Dean's amazingly fine ass. He lingered there, fanning his fingers to cup the pliant flesh.

His felt his own flesh stirring in response, his gallant salute saying what words could never express.

He couldn't believe how much Dean's body excited him. He knew that their relationship was wrong in the eyes of the world, but he'd never really been one to care. To him, Dean was necessary. He wasn't just his brother and his lover, he was his savior too, his very own hard-living, trash-talking angel. It wasn't just the physical beauty of him, but the simple reality of his presence there that invoked in him such a hunger to touch. To see Dean was to crave him, to need him, to lose himself in the knowledge that the stubble on his brother's jaw, scratchy and delicious, the contrast of smooth shoulders, delicate lashes and soft, soft lips were his and his alone. Sure Dean strayed all the time. Sure there would always be the bimbo du jour, and Sam didn't care, because he knew bone deep that Dean was his. The dirty girls could taste, but only he could consume the entire banquet that was Dean Winchester, and he was perfectly fine with that.

Dean's body was a work of art, sunwarmed and golden, every surface finely rounded from shoulder to knee and down to his feet, and Sam reflected that it wasn't often that you found men who had attractive feet. His own were best glossed over, long and stringy and far better hidden, while Dean's feet were as beautiful as the rest of him, and, dude, he even had pretty toes.

Fuck, he thought, ruefully. You know you've got it bad when you sport wood for another man's toes, but he did. Sure as shit he was sporting wood, and he absolutely had it bad.

Laughing softly, Sam contemplated the crazy flutters in the stomach that his thoughts were giving him. Maybe he should feel guilty, but all he felt was loved, and that was worth more than even that red-eyed bitch of a Crossroads Demon could give him. Dean shifted under his hand, and Sam glanced down to find that Dean's eyes were open, watching Sam watching him.

Well, hey...

Sam blushed, but at, the same time, he recognized the answering adoration that glistened in those heavy-lidded eyes. Dean's lips were slightly parted, promising sin, promising earthly delights, and how could Sam not lean in for a kiss?

Morning breath and stale beer were ignored as their lips, their tongues met, moist and sensual, twining against each other as they kissed, and it was delicious, utterly delicious. Sam slipped an arm under Dean's shoulders, let his free hand roam possessively from jaw to throat to collarbone, and Dean moved against him, stretched luxuriously then shifted onto his back without breaking their kiss. Sam's fingers glided down over Dean, paused to tease a nipple, twist and squeeze and shudder as Dean moaned into his mouth. Fingers sliding down found ticklish ribs and from there strayed to the flat, toned belly to stroke the fine, soft treasure trail and rim the shadowy pucker of his navel as Dean writhed, rising to his touch.

The kiss was still unbroken as Sam stroked downward, fingers catching lightly in crisp pubic curls until the side of his hand bumped gently into his brother's cock.

Dean gave another delicious little moan as Sam detoured around the importunate cock, ignoring his brother's gasp as he slipped his thumb down along the crease between thigh and torso. Large hands spanned the tender, blue-veined flesh, ghosted up to cup Dean's balls, already tight, corduroyed furrows rising as Sam stroked, then gently squeezed while Dean tilted his pelvis first this way then that in his desperate attempt to get more contact.

Suddenly remembering his own need, his cock slippery as he humped Dean's thigh, Sam gave his own little desperate sound, took Dean's cock in his hand, stroked hard, twisted his hand over the leaking head while Dean pushed into his loosely fisted grasp.

Breaking the kiss then, Sam looked down, smugly evaluating what he saw. Dean's eyes were dark, glassy, pupils devouring the green.

"Do you have any idea how hot you look?" said Sam loving the way the words fell from his lips, tender and rough enough to make his lips tingle. "I never get tired of seeing you like this."

"Uh-huh...?" The word sounded breathless, muzzy enough for Sam to wonder just how awake Dean really was, despite the insistent thrusting into his hand.

"Gonna fuck you, dude." The words brought a sudden, arching shudder into Sam's hand, and Dean's eyes fluttered closed, lashes fanning thick on his cheeks.

"Please, Sammy, less talk and more action." Dean's voice was soft, and there was a twisted smile on his brother's face. His voice sounded rusty as the creak of a coffin lid, but oh god the need in it could be cut with a knife. Sam's body responded to that need, jerked hard at the desire that underlay Dean's words. All of a sudden the air was too thick to breathe, and the attempt to suck it into his lungs felt like the stuff that raw sex was made from. Fuck, he thought. He could come just like this, just rubbing, and whispering dirty words and listening to his brother make the sounds of sex.

Crawling around to kneel between Dean's legs, Sam felt his own arousal battering against his control, waves crashing against a harbor wall, and the knowledge that they would eventually spill over imprinted on his soul.

"Spread for me, dude." He could feel Dean's cock twitching under his hand as he spoke, and saw his brother's head roll from side to side on the pillow as he moved to obey, thighs held high and wide, an obscene image from the wet dream to end all wet dreams.

"God, Dean," he murmured. "Just look at you."

"I'd fucking love to look at me, if I was fucking double jointed or having an out of body experience, but I kinda like it in here, and dude, if you don't get inside me right now, I'm gonna salt you and burn your fucking boner." Could Sam have caught just the hint of impatience in Dean's voice? He laughed and slid his hands under Dean's thighs, gripping sharp-boned hips to pull Dean's cock up to his mouth so he could taste the glistening nectar that oozed and dripped from it.

"Christ!" Dean's voice was harsh, a croak as his hips bucked up, and Sam laughed deep in his chest as he took him all in, sucking him down smoothly, salt and sweet and thick on his tongue.

Dean bucked up, opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out. He tried to thrust but Sam held him, swirled his tongue, his mouth soft and relentless up and down the slick shaft. It was wet and slurping and drooling from the corners of his mouth, but it was worth it just to hear the strangled sounds emerging from Dean's parted lips. Dean's thighs flexed and released rhythmically on Sam's shoulders, and he felt the soft brush of fingers on his hair. Sam glanced up to see Dean blindly reaching for him, and that sent shivers from his knees to the back of his neck. Sam became vaguely aware that he was rubbing himself shamelessly against the sheets, that he had been for some time, and it was getting way too good, way too fast.

He pulled his mouth off Dean's cock with a last, loud suck. Knelt up, dislodging one of Dean's legs.

"Sammy?" Dean's desolate gasp almost made him chuckle. He met dark eyes, impossibly huge and blown, and he smirked.

"Don' worry," he said softly. "I got you, dude."

He slicked himself up, gave himself a good, hard squeeze to keep himself from losing it before he'd even started, because this was too good to waste, and because Dean would never let him forget it if he blew his wad right here and now. Dean sprawled wantonly, watching him, lying like liquid lust, one leg still resting on Sam's shoulder, the other lolling, knee bent, obscene and sexy and wide open for him, still loose from the night before, and fuck!.

Sam gave an unsteady breath and pulled Dean up until his brother's ass was lying across his thighs. Slicked fingers probed, caressed, found the taut, hairless band of flesh from balls to puckered entrance, slipped inside to curl against the sweet spot there as he watched his brother bite his lip and start to come apart, hips rising to offer anything that Sam cared to take.

"Ready for me, Dean?"

"Oh...*fuck*..." Dean's voice was harsh, whispered counterpoint to Sam's words.

"You got it, dude. Fuck," he whispered.

It didn't take much. He slipped inside, head popping in easy through the loose muscle, slick slip-slide into velvet clasping heat. He gasped himself, fell forward into Dean, slow and easy as his cock found its way home. There was a moment where he thought that was it, he'd lost it. Sweet, sticky bliss, sucking him deeper, sucking the essence from him, and he cried out, freezing, muscles locking as he did everything he could to avoid the endgame.

Desperate, he reached for Dean, took his brother's cock in his palm, wrapped long fingers around, thumb against the cluster of nerves at the V of it, waiting to smear the drizzle of pre-come around its head.

"Come on, bro," rasped Sam. "Wanna see when you come for me." He pulled at Dean's cock, watched as Dean licked sinfully juicy lips, sank his teeth into the lower as the rictus of pleasure subsumed him.

"Aw fuck...Sammy!" Dean glanced up and their eyes met; his eyes glossy with arousal, face flushed pink, freckles as beautiful as stars in the midnight sky, and Dean grinned, sheer delight in what they were doing rendering him as mischievous and debauched as any satyr. Sam couldn't help thrusting into him, felt his hips buck despite his efforts to stay still, knowing that it would soon be over, because pleasure like this was impossible to hold onto.

Control was all but gone now. Sam was trying to stay slow and even but the pull and drag around his cock made him nearly spastic with every thrust. Just looking at Dean's face sent the shudders echoing through his flesh as he drew closer, closer...

"Dude, want you to come. You gonna do it for me?"

"Oh... oh yeah... oh fuck..." Sam squeezed the cock in his hand, thumb working the ridge of it and felt first heart-stopping contraction around his cock. Dean's neck arched back, his body tightened and his eyes closed, dark lashes shuttering them as he came, spattering them both with thick, white juices.

Sam thought that there was flame licking up from the backs of his thighs, summer lightning flickering along his synapses. He pulled out and slammed back in, thrusting uncontrollably until his body froze, muscle and bone and sinew locked in a shuddering ecstasy, and his orgasm slammed through him, rocking him until he thought that his skin might just not be strong enough to keep him from flying apart.

Eventually Sam's weight was enough that Dean shoved at him. "Get off me, Sasquatch," he mumbled, and Sam snickered as he rolled off so that they could lie side by side. Aftershocks were still buzzing through Sam's muscles, pleasant flickers that tingled down through his thighs and along his belly.

Dean, recovering, fixed him with a pleased smirk. "Holy shit, Batman."

"You've got that right, Boy Wonder." Sam wasn't sure that his voice would work until he actually heard it, low and husky as though it belonged to someone else.

"Where's my coffee?" The grin was broad on Dean's face now.

"Decided it was time for you to go caffeine-free, dude." Sam's face was serious. "Addictions can be detrimental to your health." And his expression escaped him. He couldn't keep from cracking that wide, glossy grin of his.

"Fuck you very much." Dean was pouting now, and Sam's smile grew wider.

"Sure," said Sam, smirking. "Your turn next time."

Dean was laughing as he smacked his brother. "Coffee first," he growled, and Sam knew that it was going to be a good day.

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