Fancy Footwork

Prompt: Okay, this prompt has been floating around in my head for too long now. So, in addition to sneezing, my other HUGE fetish is wrestling/strength, and bondage in the form of holding someone down. (HNNNG) If someone could find a way to combine these two things, I WILL GIVE YOU MY FIRSTBORN. Maybe have sneezy!Dean and sneezekink!Sam sparring for whatever reason. Since Sam's the big strong one, he keeps pinning Dean down, putting him in holds, etc. Maybe Dean is surprised to find that he's turned on by Sam's weight on him, that he likes struggling against the grip on his wrists. And his sneezing keeps interrupting their sparring, and Sam can of course feel his entire body when he's got him in a hold. They eventually both realize how turned on they are and have lots of hot sex. IDK I'LL TAKE ANYTHING. D:

:::

Sam bounces on his toes on the gravel behind the motel. He claps his hands and raises them to eye level. "C'mon."

Dean snuffles in the chilly air and glances at their room's back door. "Yeah." He turns and studies the hills' shocking oranges and yellows. Then he nudges his nose with a red knuckle and sidesteps into fancy footwork, smooth as a cat.

Eyeing Dean's nostrils, Sam takes a fist in the gut. Dean billows out a hoarse chuckle. "Show me the money!"

Flushing, Sam palms his abs and watches Dean bob around him. "Oh, is that how it's gonna be?" Up on the balls of his feet, he fakes three kicks to draw Dean's guard and launches a light backfist to his cheek. "Do you accept cash?"

Dean grunts and rubs his jaw. "Alw-hh-" He frowns, nose wrinkling. "EHhh-"

Sam stares.

"HEH-TZTZSHSHSH!" Dean shakes his head, blinks in surprise. "Whew."

Sam fingers his lips. "Nh." He takes a sidekick to the hip, just hard enough to set him stumbling. "Hey!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought we were sparring." Dean's mouth and nose are bright like wildflowers as he grins and feints at Sam. He socks his ribcage and draws back, jumps up and down on the spot. "Hoo! Join in anyt--hh-ugh." His forehead creases and he slows. His rosy nostrils quiver and flare. "Hh-ihhH-"

Sam drags his eyes down to Dean's hip and dances forward. He parries a clumsy kick-punch combo and lands a roundhouse to Dean's belly.

Absently rubbing the contact point, Dean raises a finger to the underside of his nose. "EHH-... hhhh-HIBFKHTCH!"

Sam swallows.

Dean looks him up and down appreciatively, cracks his knuckles. "Grasshopper has learned well." He comes in with a switch-kick, but it's slow.

Sam catches his foot and holds it. He takes in the glistening eyes, the face that's white like shells on a beach. Dean wriggles, hopping on one foot, but Sam doesn't let go. "What's with all the-"

"TCCHCHCHOO-hrrh!"

"Mmh."

"Sab, friggid' let go."

Sam inches closer, reeling Dean in by his leg. Ankle, calf... knee. "'Cause you never... unless-"

"HIHhh-... HIH-KXSH!"

"Ohhh, I see." Thigh. Sam slings Dean's knee over his hip and slides a hand around to his ass. He leans in close and kisses the tip of Dean's pink nose. Dean struggles against him but breaks off to cough into Sam's shoulder.

"Ouch." Sam rubs his back through his cold shirt. "Sucks being old, huh?"

"Shut up." Dean gasps and blows out a hot breath.

"So much for-"

"HH-igkh-" The belly against Sam's swells.

"-training."

Two sharp inhales push into him before Dean slumps with a slow, shaky release. Sam wraps his arms around his waist. "Which is totally overrated anyway." He drags Dean in tight to his throbbing groin.

"You are so wud-track." But Dean nudges his zipper into Sam's and nuzzles his ear. "You're gudda love-heh-hhH-"

"Ohh." Sam stumbles to the wall and mashes his body into Dean's.

"Ihh-"

Sam pins Dean's arms out beside them, takes the rushed moist breaths against his neck.

"Hh-HHHH-"

He grinds, thrusting a hand down the warm front of Dean's pants.

"HAH-TISHSH-TZHZHSHSHOO! Heh-XXSHSH! DGJJJ-hoo! Ehh-"

"God. Dean."

"Hrhhh-"

Dean's carotid throbs under Sam's nose. Their nipples rub together. Dean strains against him.

"Huh-TZURSHSH!"

Collectively, they sag against the beige paint.

"I wud."

"What?"

"You cabe first."

Sam raises his head and peers into bloodshot eyes. "Since when is that the goal of sparring?"

"You'd fight a sick guy and expect to beat hibb by the regular rules?"

"I didn't... you..."

"Shh." Dean kisses him. It's a long time before they talk again.