HAIRCUT
"Come on Sammy, there's only one place in town and the guy is slow as hell." Dean begs. "I just need a trim, dude."
Sam was going to cut Dean's hair the first time he asked a couple days ago, but he's enjoying the begging too much to give in right away. Two weeks into their relationship and Sam has already established dominance. And Dean's not complaining...too much.
"Please, Sammy. I can feel my hair touch my ears; not cool," whines Dean.
Sam slams his laptop shut. "Fine, you big baby," Sam says as he gets up from the chair in the two star hotel they picked in Waterloo, Illinois. They were hunting a Wraith, but that was easy peasy so they stayed one more day to look for another case, so far nothing has come up.
"Thank God, Sammy, I'll be good, I promise," Dean says with a grin that makes Sam's dick twitch. That face is so hard for him to resist. Those big green eyes just light up when Dean gets his way, and Sam loves it. Dean is so gonna make this up to him, he thinks to himself.
Sam comes out of the bathroom with his trimmer, comb, and grooming scissors and finds Dean sitting in the chair Sam recently vacated, shirtless, towel wrapped around his muscular shoulders. Sam loves when Dean is ready for him, waiting for him, eager for him. He's even put on music, good old classic rock. It's never been Sam's favorite, but he's put up with it for years and it's grown on him.
"This good? Or you want me somewhere else?" Dean looks so innocent saying that, and it starts Sam's brain working overtime. No one has ever made him feel this way, not even Jess, though he loved her, or at least part of him did. But Dean, looking adorable as hell, makes Sam forget everyone else. All that was an illusion, a distraction at most, from his true soul mate, the one sitting patiently waiting for him as Black Sabbath pulses out of the speaker of the small clock radio.
Sam puts his game face on and walks his long legs over to Dean. "This works." He says as he lays the tools on the kitchenette table, looking very put out, "the things I do for you," Sam huffs. He thinks of a million other things he'd much rather be doing, including making Dean his little bitch for the evening. But that will have to wait, he supposes. Dean will owe him after this.
Sam picks up the scissors and comb and begins to trim Dean's sides, shears- over- comb style he's seen barbers do his whole life. Sam practically has to bend all the way over to accomplish his task and he can't stop thinking of ways Dean's going to make this up to him.
The sides done, Sam takes his trimmer around Dean's ears and neck. Sam knows how sensitive Dean is and smiles when he starts to squirm. "Hold still", Sam commands and Dean does what he's told, without a word of protest.
Sam loves how compliant his older brother is, especially when he's got him at his mercy. Sam thinks he wants to be the only one this close to him, this personal, and cannot fathom anyone else having this privilege. Dean is his, finally, in every way imaginable.
As he begins to lean over to trim the top, Dean catches Sam's chin with his mouth. "Hey, cut it out," Sam says, as Peter Frampton's "Do You Feel Like I Do" comes on. Sam smiles at the irony.
"Why?" Dean asks, "Why can't we make this fun?"
"Because I have to look at you, that's why." Sam exclaims.
Dean puts on his pouty face, luscious lips downturned, in a pitiful scowl, and Sam knows he can't resist that mouth for much longer.
Dean reaches up and runs his hands up Sam's thighs, thumbs coming to rest on his hip bones. "You're so hot when you're concentrating, Sammy, can't help it." Dean confesses, and Sam has to close his eyes to compose himself, "M' gonna love paying for this haircut."
"It won't be worth anything if you don't let me finish it." Sam warns, but Dean doesn't stop, moving his hands around to his little brother's ass, kneading and pulling him closer. Sam's patience is running thin as Dean moves one hand to the front of Sam's jeans which are right in front of his face.
Dean starts stroking through the denim, following the outline of Sam's already hard cock. "Jesus, Dean!" Sam scolds him and pushes his hand away. "Not yet, dammit, don't make me tie your hands down."
"Oh fuck yeah, Sammy, I'd like that."
"I know you would, Dean. I'd love to see that happen, but right now I'm in the middle of the first favor you asked me. Now sit the fuck still!"
Dean clams up after that, hands moving off of Sam and resorts to literally sitting on them.
"Good boy," Sam says with a grin, loving how obedient Dean is being.
Dean stays still and silent till Sam puts the scissors and comb down and runs his huge hands through his own hair in a stressful gesture. With a sigh Sam huffs, "It's as good as it's gonna get. I'm not a fucking barber."
"Thanks Sammy," Dean says as he uses the towel around his neck to clean the hair off of him. He then runs his hands through his new haircut. "God that feels better," he says brushing the last of the trimmings off him. "How can I repay you, Sammy?" Dean asks eagerly as he stands up meeting Sam's eyes.
Sam's eyes have gone hard in his frustration, and as a tradeoff, his cock no longer is, and Dean notices.
"Come on, Sammy, was it really that hard?"
"Yeah, when you're baiting me like that. Pisses me off."
Dean can't take it when his Sammy is frustrated with him, and he knows it's his own fault, knows he didn't make it easy for Sam. He's going to start making it up to him right now.
Sam is looking all kinds of uninterested, and Dean can't have that. "M' sorry Sammy, I had no idea it was gonna turn me on like that. It's just you were so close, breathing in my ear, grooming me," he explains, "you had the hottest look on your face, and I..."
"Shut up Dean," Sam commands as he undoes the fly of his jeans, his cock hard again at Dean's words. "Put that pretty little mouth here," he says as he pulls his cock out, "and not another word."
Dean arches one eyebrow at Sam's harsh words and as if on cue of some cheesy TV show, Stranglehold comes in the radio. "Yes, sir." Being told what to do really turns Dean on, painfully so.
Dean falls on his knees, like Sam is a god he needs to worship, and to Dean, he kinda is. Those emerald eyes look up to meet Sam's forest green ones, as he pushes his jeans down further. "Good thing I love you, Dean."
Dean responds by stroking the length of Sam's cock, licking the precome off the tip with the flat of his tongue. Sam lets out a gasp and Dean just takes that as encouragement and begins to mouth at the engorged cock in his hands. "Take all of it, Dean, no more teasing, I'm still pissed," Sam says, and he knows it's a lie, knows that Dean knows it to, but he also knows Dean will obey.
This is the first time they've played this game, and God, is Sam enjoying it. Commanding Dean, making him his, putty in his hands, all his. He begins to wonder just how far he can push him, how far he wants to take this game, looking down at his older brother .
Dean's succulent mouth begins to work its way further down Sam's cock, inch by inch, humming coming from his throat, and it's music to Sam's ears.
"God yes, Dean, I love your mouth, like it was made for me." Sam breathes, grasping Dean's short cropped hair and pulling slightly. Sam would never hurt him, he loves him so much, but he does like to claim him, really needs that reassurance, "All mine, Dean, tell me you're all mine."
Dean pulls slightly on Sam's cock as he releases it with an audible pop, and looks up his baby brother, "Yes, Sammy, I'm all yours," he says, reverently.
"Tell me you like sucking my cock, Dean," Sam commands, "Tell me how much you love it."
Dean strokes harder, licking Sam with the pressure of his tongue from base to slit. "God, yes, Sammy, I fucking love it," Dean says, breathlessly.
"Tell me how much you love me, " Sam asks, a little more tender and sincere, the look in his eyes losing harshness.
He lets go of his brother's cock and stands up to meet his eyes, hands grasping the back of Sam's neck, "I love you so much, Sammy, more than you know," he confesses, and pulls him into a kiss. Dean's tongue thrusts into Sam's mouth searching for his tongue, finding it and moaning in victory. They stay like that, exploring each other's mouths, breaking only as Dean pulls Sam's v neck over his head.
"God, Dean, don't stop touching me," Sam tells his brother. And Dean doesn't, either. He explores Sam's body, his hands moving over his chest, down his back, cupping his perfect ass, and reaches down to finish taking off Sam's jeans.
Dean uses one hand to undo his own jeans that are practically busting at the seams with his erection, and the other to stroke Sam's cock again. He shimmies his way out of them and tosses them aside. They start making out again as Sam eases Dean over to the queen sized bed. "Get up on the bed and get ready for me, Dean, stroke that hard cock of yours, I want you close to losing it for me, want you to squirm."
Dean obeys as he eases onto the bed, eyes locked on Sam's, hand finding his own cock, the head already leaking precome. "God, Sammy, I need to piss you off more often," he teases.
"Yeah, you'd like that too much," Sam says, stroking his own cock as well.
"Mmmm, Sammy, you know me too well," he strokes harder along his length, " Mmf, gah, " Dean continues to hiss and moan, and Sammy can tell he's getting close, and he reaches out to move Dean's hands away. He's only just begun to torture Dean.
"That's enough Dean, my turn to make you squirm. Turn over, get on all fours," Sam commands, and Dean smiles as he gives into Sam, eagerly awaiting the torture. Sam goes down on his knees and begins stroking Dean's perfect ass. "You're all mine, Dean, say it again."
"All yours, Sa.. oh fuck, " Dean can't finish his sentence because Sam has started licking around the edge of Dean's tight hole, meandering and teasing. This has been on Sam's mind for years, and he could not have picked a better time to try it.
"You like that don't you?" Sam asks, lapping at the rim, knowing the answer.
"Ah, fuck yes Sammy, " Dean can barely choke out the words, panting and sighing, leaning into Sam's mouth, begging for more.
Sam wastes no more time and laps at his hole, swirling his tongue inside just a bit, tasting Dean. "Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy."
"Beg for it, Dean, beg me to fuck you," Sam says, grabbing the liquid silk off the night stand and lubing his huge cock, and then fingering Dean's wet hole, "Tell me how much you want me inside you."
"God Sammy, please, please fuck me , I need you, baby brother, need you inside me, all of you, please, PLEASE!" Sam only needed to hear the words please, need, and inside before he is lining himself up to Dean's eager wet hole.
"You want this?" Sam asks one more time. "Want my cock inside you right now?" Sam knows play time is over as he himself is about to come listening to Dean beg like he is.
"Please, please, please Sammy, fuck me now, fuck me so hard!" Dean begs one last time, and Sam gives in, pushing his cock into Dean slowly, addicted now to torturing Dean and somehow torturing himself in the process. " More Sammy ,please, God, please, want all of you."
Sam can't take any more and plunges into Dean, letting out a growl and a moan. "Ah, Dean, ah you feel, ah, you feel so fucking good." Sam praises. "Love you so eager for me."
"God Sammy, yes I am, I always am." Dean breathes. " Please, harder, I need you to give it me harder, Sammy, please."
Sam smiles, God he loves Dean's begging, and it's getting him off so quickly, this won't make him last much longer and he knows it. Sam succumbs to Dean's request and starts pounding into Dean's ass furiously and Dean takes it all. "Fuck Sammy, Sammy, SAMMY!" he yells as he comes all over the bed, "Ah, Jesus!" he huffs, barely catching his breath.
Sam then pushes his weight against Dean, making him lay on his stomach as he pounds him into the mattress. "Fuck yeah, Dean, ah, ah AHHHHH!" Sam exclaims as he reaches his own climax and comes inside his brother, and collapses on top of Dean, trying to catch his breath.
"Uggh, can't breathe," Dean says feeling Sam's weight on him.
"Sorry, I'll move…in a…second." Sam breathes, his heart still racing.
Dean isn't having it, though, and pushes Sam off him, "Seriously, I need to breathe Sammy," he says and starts to get up.
"Where you goin'?" an exhausted Sam asks.
"Gonna clean up and check my haircut." Dean says as he stumbles into the bathroom, barely able to walk. Sam lets out a long sigh and starts drifting off, until a freshly showered Dean comes back in the room.
"Well," Sam asks, eager for the feedback, "How's it look?"
"Well, it's a good thing I like it messy, Sammy," Dean teases. "Now it's your turn," he smirks.
"Yeah, you fucking wish."
THE END