He doesn't know if it's the sharp contrast between the arterial scarlet and salted essence spread across the freckled skin of his chest or the lost look reflected in black eyes that caused him to lean forward and slide his tongue further and further down. A cruel grip bound Dean's hips to the sodden mattress as teeth scraped harshly on the sensitive area of his thighs. He made one last attempt to escape the madness before tilting his head back, hands grasping hair and fingernails causing cuts.
With sick satisfaction Dean's lips twitched upwards at the corner, was Chuck watching this? Was he writing about the way Sammy strained against the restraint of Deans belt. Even now was he typing about the way Sam just begged to be fucked. Sam continued to make keaning noises as Dean's knife slid teasingly against the expanse of skin, lightly tracing over scars. Scars he had witnessed the making of. Most of all Dean wondered what Chuck would do the moment Sam came, crying out for the both of them.
He wasn't aware at what point Sam was no longer his little Sammy. Maybe around the time Sammy started to fuck him mercilessly into the wall. He could feel the splinters imbedding themselves into his back from the cheap motel paneling. Pain fueling pleasure. Merciless pounding, the feeling of Sams grip tightening around his own length, fuck even the coppery scent of blood had him on edge. The numbness of his impeding orgasm drowning out all sense of rationality. Just a lingering desperation, more