Day 3: Three State Lines

"Stop it," Dean said gruffly, not even pulling his gaze from the windshield to glance in Sam's direction.

Sam quickly looked away from Dean's profile and out the passenger window to the streetlights flying by and the thick blanket of falling snow they were currently speeding through. "Stop what?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

Dean shook his head and let out a grunt, still not turning his head toward Sam. "Stop lookin' at me like that."

Sam bit back a smile and shot a glance back to Dean. "Like what, Dean? I'm not doing anything."

Dean looked over at him, their eyes finally connecting for a moment before he focused back on driving. "Like you can't wait to pull my jeans down and fuck me," he said flatly, and Sam felt a thrill of arousal shoot down to his gut. "It's not gonna happen tonight, Sammy. We've crossed over three goddamn state lines today and as soon as we get to a motel I'm going to bed. End of story. I'm fuckin' tapped."

"Fair enough," Sam replied, shrugging his shoulders and looking back out the window. "But I wasn't looking at you."

Dean shook his head again and scoffed. Sam felt a little grin try to eek its way across his lips again and he covered his mouth with his fist, pretending to cough; he couldn't help but jab his big brother a little bit. Wasn't that what little brothers were for?

But in all honesty, yes, he was looking at Dean like that. He could hardly keep his eyes off him this entire trip as they crossed from Denver to Nebraska to Iowa and finally to Newark, Illinois all in one day on the trail of a mobile Vamp nest. The sheer amount of hunts they'd been on this holiday season was getting damn ridiculous and now here it was the tail end of Christmas day and Sam couldn't remember the last time they'd had sex that wasn't a quick blow in a Kum and Go bathroom or a rushed mutual hand job in a motel shower. He was fucking hungry and the only thing that would satisfy him was Dean.

Pulling up to their room after Dean had paid the receptionist sitting behind a pane of Plexiglas with a bogus credit card, Sam had to shift in the passenger seat and readjust his quickly stiffening cock in his jeans with the anticipation that was growing relentlessly in his belly.

Dean shut off the Impala's ignition and rolled his eyes when he saw Sam. "I said no, Sam!" he growled, wagging his finger in Sam's face. "I told you I'm fucking tired!"

Sam nodded and gave him his best, most sincere puppy dog eyes. "You know you could let me drive some of the time and maybe you wouldn't be."

Dean's face hardened into a scowl that held little heat. "Not happening."

Sam splayed his hands out, palm up, in surrender. "Okay then."

Dean eyed him for a second longer then pushed his way out of the car, stomping his way to the motel door with the number 25 on the front (how very fucking festive), the key held out in front of him. Sam followed suit, grabbing their shared duffle from the backseat and hitching it up over his shoulder. He stood behind Dean in the thickening snow as his big brother worked the key into the lock, leaning forward enough to press a searing kiss to the skin just below Dean's right ear where he knew Dean was most sensitive.

Dean shuddered and let out the softest moan Sam had ever heard and he suddenly knew Dean wasn't as opposed to his idea as he had originally let on. Sam pressed his body up against Dean's, his cock straining against the inside of his jeans, nudging against Dean's ass impatiently, as he continued to mouth kisses to Dean's neck. And as soon as Dean had finally gotten the door open, they tumbled inside, Sam chucking the duffle across the room and Dean turning to face him, already tugging his shirt up over his head.

Sam kicked the door shut and reached out to help Dean undress while Dean did the same for him. And before he knew it, Sam was as naked as Dean was and he was pressing hot, frantic kisses across Dean's freckled shoulders as he turned him toward the bed. Both breathed out rapid pants as Sam bent Dean over the mattress and spit into his palm, working Dean's hole to a stretched, lax wetness within a matter of minutes. He sunk his cock inside easily, with Dean's body seemingly eager to pull him in. But even with all that preparation, Dean was still so damn tight.

Sam moaned and gave a few slow, shallow thrusts before Dean looked back at him over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Let's get the show on the road there, buddy," he muttered.

Sam was only happy to oblige.

His thrusts turned from slow, to rough to brutal and their breathless pants soon became ragged groans and growls and moans and finally hitching sighs as Sam took Dean hard on that mattress, not stopping until they had both come twice.

He couldn't help the grin of pure male satisfaction that curled across his lips when Dean winced when he pulled away from Sam and they both fell down onto the bed, boneless and completely sated. He held up an arm, silently beckoning for Dean to curl up against him. Dean did just that without a word of protest, molding to Sam's side like they were two puzzle pieces coming together, his cheek nuzzling against the anti-possession tattoo on Sam's chest.

Dean had already started drifting off to sleep when Sam tightened his arm across Dean's shoulder, pulling him closer to his side. "Merry Christmas, jerk," Sam said.

Dean stirred for a moment and Sam could feel the curve of Dean's smile against his skin, "M' Christmas, bitch," he murmured in reply a half a second before Sam himself fell asleep, content and full of a love he could never quite describe.