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tebtoscaTitle: Brother, Can You Lend a Hand?
Pairing: Sam/Dean as AU!J2
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2668
Warnings/Kinks: AU!Misha and Gen as fluffers
Disclaimer: Don't own, still broke
Prompt: When Sam and Dean are transported to the world of the French Mistake, it turns out that J2 are actually porn stars. Instead of having to act badly, they have to fuck each other on camera to maintain their cover.
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
blindfold_spn originally posted HERE
......
“Have fun, boys,” Balthazar purrs before clapping his hands together and throwing them into the abyss.
*******
“Cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut! Where are your boners? I need boners!”
Sam lands halfway off what appears to be a circular bed, head resting against shag carpeting. A cool brush of air over his lower half startles him into doing a crunch up from the floor. He’s too busy looking for where Dean has landed to realize that he’s wearing a short bathrobe and is naked from the waist down.
“If you’re not erect, I can’t direct!”
Sam makes an undignified noise as he jumps up onto the bed and covers his genitals with his hands. He looks around frantically, blinded a little by a light flashing right into his face.
“Dean!” he hisses, and is rewarded with the top of his brother’s head popping up from where he’s landed behind the bed.
“Sam, what the fuck, where are we?” Dean whispers violently, looking back and forth between Sam and the darkened space from which the voice has been yelling at them.
Suddenly all the lights come up and they gape at the dozen random strangers staring at them with expressions ranging from bored to pissed.
Dean jumps up from his spot behind the bed and then yelps as he realizes that he’s only wearing an open bathrobe as well. And covered in baby oil.
Sam touches his own chest. Hmm, so is he. Weird.
“This is some Trickster level shit, man. I knew the little fuck would find a way to mess with us,” Dean starts mumbling, looking around the side of the bed like he’s searching for him.
“Dean, stop looking for dead archangels and concentrate. Let’s assess the scene,” Sam insists, keeping his voice pitched low and, if he does say so himself, rather calm.
Dean looks down at himself and starts patting the bathrobe. Definitely no space for a weapon, if you don’t count his rather flaccid penis. “Fucking Balthazar! I’m gonna kill that fancy-talkin’ sonovabitch.”
“You guys are supposed to be professionals, for god’s sake.” An older man with a shiny bald head sitting in a director’s chair turns out to be the mysterious voice.
Sam looks down at his naked body. Professional what?
Oh. Oh.
Dean seems to work it out at the same time and looks at the bald guy with the grin of a kid who was just given the keys to the town’s biggest candy store. He looks around eagerly, obviously thinking that a set of silicone with peroxided hair attached was going to magically appear in front of him to fondle.
“I take it all back, man, fucking Balthazar is magical. Porn stars, Sammy, porn stars. So much better than doctors or that douche with the sunglasses.” Dean squeals gleefully and if this situation wasn’t so fucked up Sam would be almost happy for his brother. It’s been a long time since Dean’s looked this young and carefree.
“Seriously fellas, if the big guy’s dick is not in the pretty guy’s ass in fifteen minutes the studio is gonna dock all of your pay!” the bald guy barks and the rest of the crew groans.
The way Dean’s mouth falls down to his knees would be almost comical if Sam wasn’t stuck in a parallel universe where he was expected to fuck his brother in front of a dozen people and a camera.
“Save the blowjob face for the scene, Jensen,” bald guy yells and Dean’s mouth snaps shut so fast his teeth clack together.
Dean wraps his bathrobe tightly around himself and cocks his head up with practiced nonchalance. “I think that Sa….uh, my co-star and I need a moment to, uh.....”
“Figure out our motivation,” Sam supplies helpfully and Dean nods in agreement.
Bald guy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right fellas, motivation. I know what you really need.”
“You do?” Sam gulps.
“FLUFFERS! WHERE ARE THE GODDAMN FLUFFERS!”
“Oh this can’t be good,” Dean murmurs.
“Yeah, yeah, Bob, hold your horses, I’m here,” a decidedly female voice calls out from behind the group. Sam hears Dean sigh with audible relief until the woman the voice is attached to starts strutting towards them.
Ruby.
Sam does the first thing he can think of and throws a pillow at her.
“Did you just throw a pillow at me, Jared?” Ruby says blankly, chomping a wad of gum in one of her cheeks.
Sam squeaks and hides behind Dean.
“Did he just throw a pillow at me?” Ruby asks the rest of the crew, who murmur in the affirmative.
Dean throws another pillow at her, just to be safe.
Ruby seems to have been expecting that one because she dodges it gracefully. She turns slowly to Bald Guy. “You know I can’t work with him on coke days. It makes him paranoid and the coke dick makes it way too hard to get him up. I practically sprained my wrist last time.”
“Ah, c’mon Gen, be a trooper. Throw a pillow back at him if you have to, but just make sure he comes back with an erection,” Bald Guy says with a half smile, which seems to be him at his most charming.
Ruby sighs but finally relents and starts marching over to them.
“Get back!” Dean growls at her and she stops just short.
“Oh hello, Jensen. So nice to see you again,” she starts, speaking slowly like he’s a toddler with a learning disability. “Can you please move your freckled ass so I can fluff this idiot enough to fuck it?”
Dean looks horrified and Sam realizes that this could go very wrong, very quickly, if he doesn’t man up and do something.
“Play along for now. We’re obviously in some weird world and this is obviously not Ruby. It’ll be fine, we’ll be fine,” Sam whispers with what he hopes is confidence and reassurance, but Dean’s face is dubious.
“Jared?” the Ruby lookalike—Gen, Bald Guy called her Gen—looks at him expectantly.
“Yeah, of course, sure…Gen,” Sam says with a fake little laugh before shooting Dean one final glance and following her into the nearest dressing room.
*******
“Are we, I mean you and I….” Sam starts, swallowing hard and looking down at her hand moving with rapid efficiency up and down his cock.
Gen’s eyeballs almost roll out of her head. “Not unless you’ve grown a pussy in the last ten minutes.”
Sam’s brows shoot up as he starts picturing that and, well hey, that’s not the worst image he’s had in his head. Just because she looks like the demon that ruined his life and helped him start the apocalypse doesn’t mean that the thought of her with her head between some other girl’s legs isn’t appealing.
Oh god, he’s starting to think like Dean. How did this happen? Is this what going to hell does to a person?
Sam clears his throat and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “So, am I seeing anyone? That you know of?”
Gen looks at his like he’s gone crazier than usual and leans up a bit to check his pupils, but her grip never falters. “Well Katie thinks that you probably jack off at home by rubbing a hand mirror over your dick, but that’s just a theory.”
“Hey!” Sam protests, looking in the nearby full length mirror at what he likes to think of as a wounded expression. “I’m not that bad!”
“You’re totally staring in the mirror right now.”
Damn. Caught.
“Just admiring your technique.”
Gen smirks. “You just like me because my tiny hands make your dick look bigger.”
Sam looks into the mirror. Hmmm, well whattya know?
Gen drops her hand and gestures snottily at his newly rock hard erection. “Well look at that, you’re hard. Looking at yourself must have worked. Guess you really are self-sexual after all.”
Sam doesn’t even get time to protest as she throws the robe at him and starts towards the door. “You better get back to work, big boy, wouldn’t want to let all my hard work go to waste. And my wrist is sore, again, so go stick that thing somewhere productive so we can break for lunch.”
Sam opens his mouth to answer but she’s already slamming the dressing room door shut.
*******
Dean watches Sam walk off with fake-Ruby and looks around cautiously. With his luck he’ll probably get Meg or someone trying to jack him off. Or worse, some dude that looks like fucking Alastair.
Dean can’t hold back a shudder and pulls his robe tighter. He’s not gonna freak out, he’s not gonna freak out.
He looks around the set trying to figure out the nearest exit but he doesn’t see any doors that don’t lead him directly past the bald loudmouth and the rest of these pervy fuckers.
He almost faints in relief as he sees Castiel walking towards him.
“Oh thank god, Cas, your brother is a fucking dick!” Dean barks, going to smack the air as an exclamation mark before realizing that he needs both hands to keep his naked ass covered.
Dean tilts his head and realizes that Castiel is dressed in jeans and an obnoxious blue sweater. And he’s grinning like a mental patient.
“Hey Jensen,” Castiel keeps grinning and holds up a cellphone to take a quick photograph.
Dean blinks, blinded a bit by the unexpected flash and. Wait. Did Cas just take a picture of him half-naked? And why did he call him Jensen?
Ah, fuck.
“You’re not Cas, are you?” Dean grits out and fake-Cas snaps another picture.
“Are we role-playing again, Jensen? I can role-play if you want,” fake-Cas purrs, his eyelids suddenly at half-mast.
“What? No, god, no, what?” Dean huffs, looking around for somewhere, anywhere, to hide.
“Misha,” Bald Guy yells. “Stop flirting with my power bottom and just get his damn dick hard!”
“Power bottom? Who the fuck are you calling a power bottom?” Dean hollers back at him.
“That’d be you, Freckle Face, so hop to it,” Bald Guy snorts in return.
Castiel—no, Misha—snaps one more picture and then sticks his phone in his jeans pocket with a shrug. With a practiced air he reaches into Dean’s robe and grabs his dick.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING??”
Dean pulls back so hard that he trips and lands flat on the ground, bathrobe half off and bare, oiled ass in the air.
Misha pulls out his phone and snaps another picture. “That one is definitely my new screensaver.”
Without a second thought, Misha drops down to his knees beside Dean and starts grabbing at his dick again. Dean starts chanting “personal space, goddamit!” as he tries to kick Misha off, and he’s never longed for his utility boots quite this much.
“Ow!” Misha grunts as Dean manages to land one bare foot to the corner of his head and he finally pulls back and stands up. Dean uses the chance to scramble to his feet and around to get the entire bed between them. Misha finally gives up with a pout and one more photo before heading back towards Bald Guy.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty, Jensen,” Bald Guy deadpans as some lackey presses a cold bottle of water to Misha’s soon-to-be-bruised temple.
Dean is just about to come back with something sarcastic and, he’s sure, incredibly witty, when Sam struts back on set, cock jutting out of his bathrobe like a flagpole.
“Hey,” Sam mumbles, eyes lowered, and Dean feels his dick twitch and harden halfway.
“Thatta boy!” Bald Guy yells and Dean curses him under his breath.
******* Okay, so maybe Sam would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t thought about this a few times. Many times. All the time. It’s just, well it’s wrong, right? Dirty, bad, incest, ew, yuck. But Dean is just so Dean , and even though he smells like bacon grease and motor oil half the time, it’s still comforting. And, well, he’s hot. Like so hot. Sam has eyes, even if he chooses not to use them, thanks very much.
Sam uses them now though and stares down at the bulge protruding from Dean’s terry cloth.
Well, that’s interesting.
“So let’s just play our roles. I mean, it worked last time,” Sam suggests, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
Dean’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “If playing our roles means your dick up my ass, then I’ll pass, thanks.”
Sam hesitates. “How about the other way around?” He can do that, hell, he has done that.
Dean gasps but Sam sees him try to subtly adjust himself in his peripheral vision. “Sammy, what are you saying?”
Sam ignores him and turns to Bald Guy. Now or never. “Hey, why don’t I bottom this time? Mix it up a little bit.”
“Sam!” Dean hisses, grabbing onto his forearm and shaking his head frantically.
Bald Guy actually has the audacity to laugh. “That’s a good one, Jared, you’re hilarious. But Jensen didn’t win Rectum of the Year by topping anybody.”
Gen snickers evilly and Misha licks his lips from the sidelines.
“Besides,” Bald Guy continues, “Misha assured me Jensen’s already pre-lubed.”
“Mother of god!” Dean cries out, clutching at his ass and hopping around in a circle.
Sam has to admit his dick likes that last bit of information.
Dean looks like he’s about four seconds away from hyperventilating so Sam simply grabs him by the neck and pushes their lips together.
Dean is frozen in place, hands still clutched into the sides of his robe. Sam moves his mouth gently against his, asking for entrance, for permission. His lips rub along the seam of Dean’s until, finally, finally, Dean opens to him and allows Sam to push in. Sam thinks he hears Bald Guy grunting “roll the fucking camera!” in the background, but the sound floats right by him as he tangles his tongue languidly with Dean’s. He has both his hands on Dean’s face now, cradling it, tipping Dean’s head back so he can get a better angle to lick into his mouth.
Their bodies are flush together now and after an achingly slow amount of time, Dean brings his hands to rest on Sam’s hips. He doesn’t press in, just holds them there, and Sam feels something amazing burst inside of himself.
Then Dean is lying back on the bed and Sam is climbing on top of him and they are twisting together breathlessly. Their limbs tangle as they start rolling and Sam almost laughs at how similar it is to how they used to spar when they were younger. Always fighting for dominance, but never enough to actually hurt the other one. Just enough to bruise and conquer and, maybe, tease.
Before he knows what’s happening, Sam has Dean’s legs wrapped around his waist and he’s pushing into him, smothering Dean’s pained cries with his mouth as he bites at his brother’s lips. Dean takes it all and pushes up, grunting as he spurs Sam on, challenging him with his body instead of his words.
Sam is panting now and he feels his orgasm rising, knows that this is not what Bald Guy wants, knows they are doing this all wrong, and yet it’s the only way that makes sense, the only way that will ever make sense again.
“Sam, Sammy,” Dean is murmuring into his mouth and running his fingers through his hair and Sam comes harder than he ever has in his life. Moments later, Dean follows him, coming all over his own stomach as his muscles clench down on Sam’s still half-hard dick.
They collapse into a heap on the bed and come out of their daze to realize Bald Guy is calling for them.
“I told you to stop, guys. Producer’s here.”
A familiar gruff voice breaks through their reverie then, and it’s tinged with amusement. “So Bob, my boys seems to be doing alright. Keeping them active, I see.”
Bald Guy laughs a bit nervously. “You bet, JD. Nice and active.”
Sam and Dean snap out of it at the exact same moment and look up in shock. “DAD?”
It’s right about then that Dean passes out, his brother’s cock still lodged up his ass.
*******
“Dean, wake up, “ Castiel’s voice beckons him.
Dean slowly blinks himself awake and finds himself lying on the couch in Bobby’s living room, thankfully with all his clothes on. Castiel reaches down with one hand to help pull him upright and Dean yelps and smacks at it. “No means no, dude!”
Castiel looks at him strangely as Dean hears what sounds suspiciously like a fancy-talkin' sonovabitch snickering in the background.
Pairing: Sam/Dean as AU!J2
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2668
Warnings/Kinks: AU!Misha and Gen as fluffers
Disclaimer: Don't own, still broke
Prompt: When Sam and Dean are transported to the world of the French Mistake, it turns out that J2 are actually porn stars. Instead of having to act badly, they have to fuck each other on camera to maintain their cover.
Written for
blindfold_spn originally posted HERE......
“Have fun, boys,” Balthazar purrs before clapping his hands together and throwing them into the abyss.
*******
“Cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut! Where are your boners? I need boners!”
Sam lands halfway off what appears to be a circular bed, head resting against shag carpeting. A cool brush of air over his lower half startles him into doing a crunch up from the floor. He’s too busy looking for where Dean has landed to realize that he’s wearing a short bathrobe and is naked from the waist down.
“If you’re not erect, I can’t direct!”
Sam makes an undignified noise as he jumps up onto the bed and covers his genitals with his hands. He looks around frantically, blinded a little by a light flashing right into his face.
“Dean!” he hisses, and is rewarded with the top of his brother’s head popping up from where he’s landed behind the bed.
“Sam, what the fuck, where are we?” Dean whispers violently, looking back and forth between Sam and the darkened space from which the voice has been yelling at them.
Suddenly all the lights come up and they gape at the dozen random strangers staring at them with expressions ranging from bored to pissed.
Dean jumps up from his spot behind the bed and then yelps as he realizes that he’s only wearing an open bathrobe as well. And covered in baby oil.
Sam touches his own chest. Hmm, so is he. Weird.
“This is some Trickster level shit, man. I knew the little fuck would find a way to mess with us,” Dean starts mumbling, looking around the side of the bed like he’s searching for him.
“Dean, stop looking for dead archangels and concentrate. Let’s assess the scene,” Sam insists, keeping his voice pitched low and, if he does say so himself, rather calm.
Dean looks down at himself and starts patting the bathrobe. Definitely no space for a weapon, if you don’t count his rather flaccid penis. “Fucking Balthazar! I’m gonna kill that fancy-talkin’ sonovabitch.”
“You guys are supposed to be professionals, for god’s sake.” An older man with a shiny bald head sitting in a director’s chair turns out to be the mysterious voice.
Sam looks down at his naked body. Professional what?
Oh. Oh.
Dean seems to work it out at the same time and looks at the bald guy with the grin of a kid who was just given the keys to the town’s biggest candy store. He looks around eagerly, obviously thinking that a set of silicone with peroxided hair attached was going to magically appear in front of him to fondle.
“I take it all back, man, fucking Balthazar is magical. Porn stars, Sammy, porn stars. So much better than doctors or that douche with the sunglasses.” Dean squeals gleefully and if this situation wasn’t so fucked up Sam would be almost happy for his brother. It’s been a long time since Dean’s looked this young and carefree.
“Seriously fellas, if the big guy’s dick is not in the pretty guy’s ass in fifteen minutes the studio is gonna dock all of your pay!” the bald guy barks and the rest of the crew groans.
The way Dean’s mouth falls down to his knees would be almost comical if Sam wasn’t stuck in a parallel universe where he was expected to fuck his brother in front of a dozen people and a camera.
“Save the blowjob face for the scene, Jensen,” bald guy yells and Dean’s mouth snaps shut so fast his teeth clack together.
Dean wraps his bathrobe tightly around himself and cocks his head up with practiced nonchalance. “I think that Sa….uh, my co-star and I need a moment to, uh.....”
“Figure out our motivation,” Sam supplies helpfully and Dean nods in agreement.
Bald guy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right fellas, motivation. I know what you really need.”
“You do?” Sam gulps.
“FLUFFERS! WHERE ARE THE GODDAMN FLUFFERS!”
“Oh this can’t be good,” Dean murmurs.
“Yeah, yeah, Bob, hold your horses, I’m here,” a decidedly female voice calls out from behind the group. Sam hears Dean sigh with audible relief until the woman the voice is attached to starts strutting towards them.
Ruby.
Sam does the first thing he can think of and throws a pillow at her.
“Did you just throw a pillow at me, Jared?” Ruby says blankly, chomping a wad of gum in one of her cheeks.
Sam squeaks and hides behind Dean.
“Did he just throw a pillow at me?” Ruby asks the rest of the crew, who murmur in the affirmative.
Dean throws another pillow at her, just to be safe.
Ruby seems to have been expecting that one because she dodges it gracefully. She turns slowly to Bald Guy. “You know I can’t work with him on coke days. It makes him paranoid and the coke dick makes it way too hard to get him up. I practically sprained my wrist last time.”
“Ah, c’mon Gen, be a trooper. Throw a pillow back at him if you have to, but just make sure he comes back with an erection,” Bald Guy says with a half smile, which seems to be him at his most charming.
Ruby sighs but finally relents and starts marching over to them.
“Get back!” Dean growls at her and she stops just short.
“Oh hello, Jensen. So nice to see you again,” she starts, speaking slowly like he’s a toddler with a learning disability. “Can you please move your freckled ass so I can fluff this idiot enough to fuck it?”
Dean looks horrified and Sam realizes that this could go very wrong, very quickly, if he doesn’t man up and do something.
“Play along for now. We’re obviously in some weird world and this is obviously not Ruby. It’ll be fine, we’ll be fine,” Sam whispers with what he hopes is confidence and reassurance, but Dean’s face is dubious.
“Jared?” the Ruby lookalike—Gen, Bald Guy called her Gen—looks at him expectantly.
“Yeah, of course, sure…Gen,” Sam says with a fake little laugh before shooting Dean one final glance and following her into the nearest dressing room.
*******
“Are we, I mean you and I….” Sam starts, swallowing hard and looking down at her hand moving with rapid efficiency up and down his cock.
Gen’s eyeballs almost roll out of her head. “Not unless you’ve grown a pussy in the last ten minutes.”
Sam’s brows shoot up as he starts picturing that and, well hey, that’s not the worst image he’s had in his head. Just because she looks like the demon that ruined his life and helped him start the apocalypse doesn’t mean that the thought of her with her head between some other girl’s legs isn’t appealing.
Oh god, he’s starting to think like Dean. How did this happen? Is this what going to hell does to a person?
Sam clears his throat and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “So, am I seeing anyone? That you know of?”
Gen looks at his like he’s gone crazier than usual and leans up a bit to check his pupils, but her grip never falters. “Well Katie thinks that you probably jack off at home by rubbing a hand mirror over your dick, but that’s just a theory.”
“Hey!” Sam protests, looking in the nearby full length mirror at what he likes to think of as a wounded expression. “I’m not that bad!”
“You’re totally staring in the mirror right now.”
Damn. Caught.
“Just admiring your technique.”
Gen smirks. “You just like me because my tiny hands make your dick look bigger.”
Sam looks into the mirror. Hmmm, well whattya know?
Gen drops her hand and gestures snottily at his newly rock hard erection. “Well look at that, you’re hard. Looking at yourself must have worked. Guess you really are self-sexual after all.”
Sam doesn’t even get time to protest as she throws the robe at him and starts towards the door. “You better get back to work, big boy, wouldn’t want to let all my hard work go to waste. And my wrist is sore, again, so go stick that thing somewhere productive so we can break for lunch.”
Sam opens his mouth to answer but she’s already slamming the dressing room door shut.
*******
Dean watches Sam walk off with fake-Ruby and looks around cautiously. With his luck he’ll probably get Meg or someone trying to jack him off. Or worse, some dude that looks like fucking Alastair.
Dean can’t hold back a shudder and pulls his robe tighter. He’s not gonna freak out, he’s not gonna freak out.
He looks around the set trying to figure out the nearest exit but he doesn’t see any doors that don’t lead him directly past the bald loudmouth and the rest of these pervy fuckers.
He almost faints in relief as he sees Castiel walking towards him.
“Oh thank god, Cas, your brother is a fucking dick!” Dean barks, going to smack the air as an exclamation mark before realizing that he needs both hands to keep his naked ass covered.
Dean tilts his head and realizes that Castiel is dressed in jeans and an obnoxious blue sweater. And he’s grinning like a mental patient.
“Hey Jensen,” Castiel keeps grinning and holds up a cellphone to take a quick photograph.
Dean blinks, blinded a bit by the unexpected flash and. Wait. Did Cas just take a picture of him half-naked? And why did he call him Jensen?
Ah, fuck.
“You’re not Cas, are you?” Dean grits out and fake-Cas snaps another picture.
“Are we role-playing again, Jensen? I can role-play if you want,” fake-Cas purrs, his eyelids suddenly at half-mast.
“What? No, god, no, what?” Dean huffs, looking around for somewhere, anywhere, to hide.
“Misha,” Bald Guy yells. “Stop flirting with my power bottom and just get his damn dick hard!”
“Power bottom? Who the fuck are you calling a power bottom?” Dean hollers back at him.
“That’d be you, Freckle Face, so hop to it,” Bald Guy snorts in return.
Castiel—no, Misha—snaps one more picture and then sticks his phone in his jeans pocket with a shrug. With a practiced air he reaches into Dean’s robe and grabs his dick.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING??”
Dean pulls back so hard that he trips and lands flat on the ground, bathrobe half off and bare, oiled ass in the air.
Misha pulls out his phone and snaps another picture. “That one is definitely my new screensaver.”
Without a second thought, Misha drops down to his knees beside Dean and starts grabbing at his dick again. Dean starts chanting “personal space, goddamit!” as he tries to kick Misha off, and he’s never longed for his utility boots quite this much.
“Ow!” Misha grunts as Dean manages to land one bare foot to the corner of his head and he finally pulls back and stands up. Dean uses the chance to scramble to his feet and around to get the entire bed between them. Misha finally gives up with a pout and one more photo before heading back towards Bald Guy.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty, Jensen,” Bald Guy deadpans as some lackey presses a cold bottle of water to Misha’s soon-to-be-bruised temple.
Dean is just about to come back with something sarcastic and, he’s sure, incredibly witty, when Sam struts back on set, cock jutting out of his bathrobe like a flagpole.
“Hey,” Sam mumbles, eyes lowered, and Dean feels his dick twitch and harden halfway.
“Thatta boy!” Bald Guy yells and Dean curses him under his breath.
******* Okay, so maybe Sam would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t thought about this a few times. Many times. All the time. It’s just, well it’s wrong, right? Dirty, bad, incest, ew, yuck. But Dean is just so Dean , and even though he smells like bacon grease and motor oil half the time, it’s still comforting. And, well, he’s hot. Like so hot. Sam has eyes, even if he chooses not to use them, thanks very much.
Sam uses them now though and stares down at the bulge protruding from Dean’s terry cloth.
Well, that’s interesting.
“So let’s just play our roles. I mean, it worked last time,” Sam suggests, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
Dean’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “If playing our roles means your dick up my ass, then I’ll pass, thanks.”
Sam hesitates. “How about the other way around?” He can do that, hell, he has done that.
Dean gasps but Sam sees him try to subtly adjust himself in his peripheral vision. “Sammy, what are you saying?”
Sam ignores him and turns to Bald Guy. Now or never. “Hey, why don’t I bottom this time? Mix it up a little bit.”
“Sam!” Dean hisses, grabbing onto his forearm and shaking his head frantically.
Bald Guy actually has the audacity to laugh. “That’s a good one, Jared, you’re hilarious. But Jensen didn’t win Rectum of the Year by topping anybody.”
Gen snickers evilly and Misha licks his lips from the sidelines.
“Besides,” Bald Guy continues, “Misha assured me Jensen’s already pre-lubed.”
“Mother of god!” Dean cries out, clutching at his ass and hopping around in a circle.
Sam has to admit his dick likes that last bit of information.
Dean looks like he’s about four seconds away from hyperventilating so Sam simply grabs him by the neck and pushes their lips together.
Dean is frozen in place, hands still clutched into the sides of his robe. Sam moves his mouth gently against his, asking for entrance, for permission. His lips rub along the seam of Dean’s until, finally, finally, Dean opens to him and allows Sam to push in. Sam thinks he hears Bald Guy grunting “roll the fucking camera!” in the background, but the sound floats right by him as he tangles his tongue languidly with Dean’s. He has both his hands on Dean’s face now, cradling it, tipping Dean’s head back so he can get a better angle to lick into his mouth.
Their bodies are flush together now and after an achingly slow amount of time, Dean brings his hands to rest on Sam’s hips. He doesn’t press in, just holds them there, and Sam feels something amazing burst inside of himself.
Then Dean is lying back on the bed and Sam is climbing on top of him and they are twisting together breathlessly. Their limbs tangle as they start rolling and Sam almost laughs at how similar it is to how they used to spar when they were younger. Always fighting for dominance, but never enough to actually hurt the other one. Just enough to bruise and conquer and, maybe, tease.
Before he knows what’s happening, Sam has Dean’s legs wrapped around his waist and he’s pushing into him, smothering Dean’s pained cries with his mouth as he bites at his brother’s lips. Dean takes it all and pushes up, grunting as he spurs Sam on, challenging him with his body instead of his words.
Sam is panting now and he feels his orgasm rising, knows that this is not what Bald Guy wants, knows they are doing this all wrong, and yet it’s the only way that makes sense, the only way that will ever make sense again.
“Sam, Sammy,” Dean is murmuring into his mouth and running his fingers through his hair and Sam comes harder than he ever has in his life. Moments later, Dean follows him, coming all over his own stomach as his muscles clench down on Sam’s still half-hard dick.
They collapse into a heap on the bed and come out of their daze to realize Bald Guy is calling for them.
“I told you to stop, guys. Producer’s here.”
A familiar gruff voice breaks through their reverie then, and it’s tinged with amusement. “So Bob, my boys seems to be doing alright. Keeping them active, I see.”
Bald Guy laughs a bit nervously. “You bet, JD. Nice and active.”
Sam and Dean snap out of it at the exact same moment and look up in shock. “DAD?”
It’s right about then that Dean passes out, his brother’s cock still lodged up his ass.
*******
“Dean, wake up, “ Castiel’s voice beckons him.
Dean slowly blinks himself awake and finds himself lying on the couch in Bobby’s living room, thankfully with all his clothes on. Castiel reaches down with one hand to help pull him upright and Dean yelps and smacks at it. “No means no, dude!”
Castiel looks at him strangely as Dean hears what sounds suspiciously like a fancy-talkin' sonovabitch snickering in the background.
