The room was warm, the ceiling fan's low whirring almost putting Dean back to sleep the moment he was awake. He sniffed once, trying to clear his nose a bit as he pressed it to the back of Samandriel's neck, nuzzling his hairline until he grumbled. Maybe there were supposed to be words in there somewhere, but all Dean got was mmfyin slip.
He chuckled dazedly and looped his arms around the smaller man's waist, pulling him closer until they were pressed flush together, back to chest. Samandriel heaved a martyred sigh and Dean smiled. No one that tired should be able to be that dramatic, but somehow his little Alfie managed.
There was probably light coming in through the blinds, lean shafts of it falling across Samandriel's torso in golden bars, but Dean had yet to open his eyes. It was sweeter that way, pressing close and taking in the smells and sounds of everything without the interruption of having to see it. His hand splayed wide on Samandriel's stomach, fingers falling into the grooves of his abs and dipping into his navel. A small giggle turned into a chuckling groan, the body in his arms writhing to get away from the ticklish touch. Dean stopped swirling his fingers and instead moved lower, the edge of his pinky trailing beneath the worn green elastic of his old boxers. Samandriel wouldn't normally have been able to wear them, but growing up with five big brothers had given him practice at shrinking a hand-me-down.
A sharp inhale hitched Samandriel's chest, his weight falling more heavily on Dean's other arm. They'd have to move soon or it'd go numb. His lips curved into a smile around the hinge of Samandriel's jaw, teeth peeking out to nip at and worry the skin. Soft hair tickled the undersides of his fingers when he ventured lower into the borrowed boxers.
Samandriel's skin was dry, almost milky tasting, creamy and rich on his tongue so early in the morning. If he could, he'd drink his coffee right out of the belly button he'd been tickling, just like he'd had his shots the night before. Somehow he doubted Samandriel would go for that idea. Damn shame, too. That belly button was fun. Maybe Dean had a fixation.
The moment he tried to wrap his hand around the half-hard cock under the well-worn flannel, his boyfriend rolled over, pushing him onto his back in the process. Dean grinned and opened his eyes, squinting at the brightness of mid-morning. What time was it? Nine? Ten? Did it matter? Breakfast in bed couldn't compare to what he was getting.
Lean thighs straddled his hips, their groins pressed together as they settled into their new position. Samandriel's lips danced across his, touch so light it almost wasn't there. They kissed slowly, mouths closed because morning breath was a quick way to ruin a mood. It didn't matter, tongues didn't make a kiss intimate, didn't make it close. Even with nothing more than the push and slide of dry lips together, Dean was drinking him in.
The heat of the skin under Dean's hands was almost feverish, summer nights doing little to be merciful in light of a crappy ceiling fan and busted AC. Really it was almost too hot, but that wouldn't stop them. Samandriel pushed down with his hips as Dean pushed up. Both of them moaned lowly, Samandriel's hitching on the end, turning more breathy and higher in pitch. His forearms boxed Dean's head in, fingers weaving into thick brown hair, rubbing at the scalp beneath. Every flutter of Dean's eyes at the small gesture made him grin wider.
Dean tilted his head and kissed a dark hickey he'd left days ago, the edge of it coming dangerously close to the edge of Samandriel's collars when they posed as FBI for a case. Somehow that made it better—his favorite. He wished it wouldn't heal, would linger just long enough for him to get caught, have someone question if he and his partner were partners in a different sense. He would blush and stammer, play innocent and flustered because Dean was gorgeous and he was lucky.
That was all true, but innocent and flustered? Not quite.
Dean hummed lowly and smiled against his skin, grunting when he pushed up hard and got a good amount of pressure on his dick. "Mornin' baby."
Samandriel laughed softly and bucked quickly, more a thrash than a thrust, and kissed just in front of Dean's ear. "You're terrible at wake-up calls."
Dean chuckled, large fingers digging into the soft flesh of his back just above his ass, pulling him into the next roll of their hips together. "Really? I think this is kinda fun. Bet-fuck!" Dean's hands twitched on his skin, his entire body jolting like he wanted to roll them over and take control. "Better than the phone ringing, ain't it?"
Samandriel nodded, getting a little too worked up for normal speech with what Dean was doing. Part of him wanted Dean to manhandle him over, another part loved to see the restraint. He kissed Dean again, just over the arch of his brow, and rested their foreheads together. Warmth was building at the base of his spine, heavy and sweet inside his skin as it worked its way out, pulsing with the beating of his heart and Dean's harsh breaths across his skin.
Dean nipped his lower lip and he smiled, trading another warm kiss. This early in the morning, neither of them expected to last long and Samandriel found himself glad for that, otherwise he'd have been embarrassed when he felt his thighs and arms shaking.
He dropped his head to rest beside Dean's on the pillow, bearing down on the man beneath him with all of his weight. A whimper came out, muffled as he bit his lower lip. His hole was twitching and throbbing, the motion of his hips reminding him too much of riding Dean, of being full and taken.
One of his hands slipped out of Dean's hair, clutching the thick muscles of the other man's shoulder. Dean moaned when his nails dug in, broad chest vibrating against Samandriel's. The feel of hot air rushing past his ear sent him over, a soft cry tearing from his mouth, still buried in the pillow.
His cock was throbbing, still coming as Dean picked up his pace and his pressure. He whimpered and rolled with it on reflex. "Mm, Dean." He hardly recognized his own voice, so shaky and fragile.
One of Dean's hands ventured into his boxers, groping the supple flesh of his ass roughly. His hips stilled and his spine bowed, a rough groan rattling in his throat. "Fuck, Alfie, oh God."
Samandriel could feel the hard throbbing of Dean's cock against his hip, knew that soon enough there'd be a wet spot under him. Both of them were panting, sweat beading up and rolling down their skin. The room really was way too hot. Fortunately, the shower was plenty big for two.