AN: This chapter wasn't going to happen. But I read a review on Amazon that inspired it. When you're done here, feel free to go find it for yourself. ;)
.~*~.
Dean stood in aisle three of the drug store a block away from the motel, trying to decide what type of at-home wax to get. There was no place in town that did the kind of waxing he needed, but he was fairly confident he could do it himself anyway.
Memories of the night before kept playing over and over in his mind, of how Sam had turned him over and done things with his mouth that had Dean hardening in his jeans just at the thought of it. And the sonofabitch had sneakily stretched himself while he so expertly ate Dean out, that Dean had been thrown off guard when Sam had flipped him onto his back and sank down onto his cock, moaning like he was some kinda professional porn star... Dean had just laid there, fingers digging into Sam's hipbones as he rode him hard and...
Dean had to pull himself back out of the memory and adjust himself, glancing around him to make sure no one could see. He grabbed a box that said Veet for men, only because he'd heard the brand name before and didn't really wanna hang around much longer.
Sam had the car, gone somewhere else to do some shopping for them. He'd done some Googling and found a big, gay sex shop in town. A fucking gay sex shop but nowhere to get your balls waxed. Dean had opted on skipping going there with Sam so he could get waxed in time for when Sam got back. He'd wasted most of his time trying to find a place, then got laughed at by Sam when he called him to tell him there wasn't anything in town. "Still wanna give me shit about Googling?" Sam had said. Insufferable bastard.
Once Dean paid for the wax and headed back up the street to the hotel, Sam was calling. "I'm on my way back to the room," Dean told him when he answered.
"Okay. Well...I got us some stuff," Sam sounded excited on the other line. "I guess since you're not done yet, I'll stop somewhere and grab us something for dinner."
"Don't we have leftovers from lunch in the mini-fridge?"
"Yeah, I think there's half a pint of ice cream and then whatever's left of my salad. That's not gonna be enough, so..."
"Dude, there's this diner a couple miles from here-"
"With blueberry pie, yeah I know," Sam's grin could be heard through the phone. "I'll be back in twenty."
Dean smiled as he ended the call, shoving his phone into his pocket before fishing out the room key. It was a short walk and he was already back, ready to get his hair-removal on before Sam got back. Once he got in the door he kicked off his boots and tossed the drugstore bag onto the bed before he stripped out of his pants and boxers. Then he grabbed the bag again and sat down on the edge of the bed as he pulled the box out to glance over the directions.
"Leave on skin for three minutes," he read aloud, "Then test the area with the...the spatula? What?" he furrowed his brows as he tore open the box to retrieve the contents inside. He found a tube and a small plastic tool that reminded him of the fake shaving kit he got for Sam when he was still a little kid. "Oh okay. Guess you're the spatula," he said before turning back to the directions. "If hair comes away easily," he continued reading, "Remove rest of gel with the spatula. Okay, sounds easy enough," Dean said, tossing the empty box back into the bag. He pulled his shirt off over his head to avoid getting anything on it, then stood and made his way to the bathroom with the tube of gel and the little plastic tool. "Three minutes is plenty of time before Sammy gets home," he said with a grin.
He set the tool down on the sink counter and unscrewed the cap of the tube, squeezed some out onto his fingers and then applied it...well, everywhere. Everywhere he was concerned about getting baby-smooth anyway. Then he rinsed off his hands, dried them and glanced down at his watch to start keeping time.
"Hmm," Dean said as he felt the gel begin to work. "That's kinda warm. Wonder if that's normal," he said as he headed back out to grab the discarded box. But then it began to heat up. A lot. "Okay yeah...too warm," he sad, turning back toward the bathroom. "Holy shit," he hurried to the sink to turn on the water as the burning became ridiculously intense, like barbed wire—if he needed to compare it to something—digging into him like a wedgie. In a panic he began awkwardly attempting to wash it off, breathing through the tear-drawing discomfort.
The hair was coming off with the gel, but Dean was more concerned with extinguishing the fire that was currently consuming his most sensitive areas. "Oh god oh god oh geezus," Dean panicked at the intensity that was now causing bile to run up the back of his throat. "Need something colder... Sonofabitch!" he whined as he stumbled out of the bathroom and directly to the mini-fridge where Sam had told him there was ice cream. On his knees on the crappy, red carpet, he pulled open the door, tore the lid off of the small, half-empty carton and dunked his flaming balls down into what little creamy goodness was remaining.
A heavy sigh of relief escaped him for a moment as the cold seemed to counteract the effects of the gel. But then it became exceedingly apparent that he'd neglected to wash the gel from his asshole, and maybe his flaming balls had previously distracted him from that fact, or maybe the burning had taken a little longer to start on that end. Either way, the panic began to rebuild.
The ice cream was rapidly melting, and all they had left in the fridge was Sam's salad... Dean grabbed for it out of desperation, popping open the Styrofoam container in search for something—anything to ease the pain. Sliced cucumbers and whole cherry tomatoes seemed the most solid, cold-keeping elements in the container, and Dean didn't think twice when he picked them out and shoved them between his ass cheeks.
"Oh...oh," Dean was relieved again for a moment...right up until he realized that some of the gel must've slipped in past the rim because... "SONOFABITCH!" he panicked, reaching back into the container, no thought process existing outside of getting cold to the fire. Dean grabbed the last remaining cherry tomato, pressing it unceremoniously up into himself, a groan of satisfied relief oozing out of him as he collapsed onto his side on the floor. "Oooh that's...that's good," he breathed, closing his eyes for a moment.
"Uh...Dean?" Sam's voice sounded above him.
Dean clenched all over, eyes popping open at right about the same time the cherry tomato launched out of Dean's ass, hitting Sam in the pant leg before it fell to the carpet.
"What...the hell did you do to my salad?"
"I can explain!"
.~*~.
"Not suitable for use on the genital area," Sam read aloud for his brother.
"They shoulda made that more obvious on the package," Dean grumbled from where he sat on the bed with a cold beer positioned purposefully between his legs.
"It's right before the directions," Sam replied with a raised brow.
"Well it should be in big red letters!" Dean argued.
"You should probably read more thoroughly before applying stuff to your junk," Sam said, shaking his head, an amused grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Shut up, man," Dean looked down, embarrassed and annoyed. "This isn't how I planned the day out in my head."
"Yeah, me either," Sam replied as he handed Dean the dinner he'd picked up for him, then plopped down beside him up against the headboard with his own. "I guess you're not gonna be able to use any of the stuff I got, tonight."
Dean looked away from his burger, up at his brother with interested brows. "It's not that bad anymore, I swear," Dean told him. "Once I got all that shit offa me it was totally okay."
"Except you're balls and asshole are beet red."
"It's fading," he said with a shrug. "It'll be fine. 'sides, we don't need my asshole or my balls all that much, do we?"
Sam laughed at that. "Eat your dinner, Dean. It's gonna get cold."
"Did you get the pie?"
"Yes, I got the pie. But I think I should get it since your ass ate my damn salad."
"That's not a fair trade at all!" Dean countered, wide-eyed.
"You wanna know what's not a fair trade?" Sam replied with equally wide eyes as he sat up away from the headboard to turn and face his brother. "Having just spent an hour finding the perfect cock rings, then prepping myself in the adult-store's restroom so I could put in a surprise plug and be ready for you by the time I got back here, then having your balls in my ice cream and my leftovers hanging out of your muppet-mouth looking ass, too sore now to do anything!"
"Y...you... Wait, my muppet-looking ass? What the fuck?"
"Shut up," Sam said and returned back to his meal.
"You seriously have a plug in right now?" Dean inquired curiously.
"Fat lotta good it does me now."
"My package is fine," Dean retorted, "And it is more than ready to accommodate your accommodations," he said with a smirk.
Sam couldn't help the snort of laughter. "You're an idiot."
"A fully-functional idiot," Dean replied. "Now finish your dinner. I've got dessert on my mind. And I don't mean the pie..."
~End~