Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
'Yes, Dean'
Sam/Dean ... established relationship
"Sam?"
"Yes, Dean."
"Where've you been?"
A laugh, "You know where. You saw me leave the bar last night."
"Have fun?"
"Yeah," smiling to himself, thinking about the pleasant ache in his ass.
"Sam? Can you come here for a minute?"
"Sure," moving closer.
Dean's hand ran up the side of his brother's face and he smiled into the waiting hazel eyes. He rubbed his thumb along the cheek bone, then pushed his splayed fingers up into the thick luxuriant locks grasping lightly. Looking at the parted lips he asked, "You do know, you're mine, right?"
Laughing happily, Sam did not answer, but ran his hands up from Dean's hips, under his t-shirt, to spread out on the warm, smooth skin of his back and leant in for a kiss.
It was quick. The hand in Sam's hair grabbed tight, pulling his head back as Dean's other hand stroked his throat almost threateningly. "You're mine, Sam. You understand?"
"Y…es, Dean," quietly, not really understanding at all. Not the sudden violence, the certainty in his brother's voice or the possessiveness. Then he was forced to his knees staring up into burning green eyes.
Glowering into Sam's shinning, confused ones, Dean demanded, "You always come back to me. Do you understand?" shaking him by the hair slightly as he got no answer, "Do you?"
"Yes." Where the hell was this coming from? "Dean, what's wrong?" his hands coming to rest on the tense hips as his brother held him in place.
"See? There you go with the questions. I knew you didn't understand. Now understand this," and shifting his hold from Sam's throat to jaw, he took a slow step forwards, first the right foot, then the left, either side of the kneeling figure forcing Sam to lean back uncomfortably and grab onto the waist band of Dean's jeans for balance. "I don't give a rat's ass how many women you fuck, but you fuck no other men but me. Do you understand that?"
Sam's head was forced further back, his chin now pressing up against his brother's obvious arousal. Dean had never had a problem before, they had never been monogamous or possessive. Opening his mouth to ask 'just what the fuck,' he looked up into those green eyes afresh and, seeing everything there, simply answered, "Yes, Dean."
"You're mine. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, Dean."
Dean relaxed his hold on Sam's face but, not releasing the hair, took the step back. Revelling in the expression before him, eagerness, uncertainty and compliance, he popped open the button on his jeans and slowly unzipped them. "Now, first, get the taste of that bastard out of your throat."
"Yes, Dean."
=========================end=========================