Like a girl.
That was a phrase Sam had become much too familiar with throughout the course of his life. Training? "You hit like a girl, Sam." Playing sports? "You run like a girl, Sam." Ordering dinner? "Salad? Really? God, you eat like a girl, Sam." But he'd never heard it used quite the way Dean was using it now.
"I'm gonna lick your ass like a girl, Sam."
Yeah. And it had never gotten him hard before, either. But, fuck, it was now. He couldn't exactly speak, so he went with nodding his consent as vigorously as he could and hoping Dean got the message.
Dean had removed Sam's clothes a good fifteen or so minutes ago, but he'd spent the time from then to now simply taking in the sight of his naked, trembling, beautiful baby brother and determining which part of him to worship first. His decision? Sam's tight, round, fucking perfect ass.
Sam managed to find his voice, then, and tentatively asked, "Do you, um... D'you want me to turn over?"
Dean placed his hands on either side of Sam's hips and smiled, shaking his head. "No, baby boy. Wanna see you."
Sam breathed what sounded a bit like a sigh of relief and whispered, "Kay."
For a moment, Dean just ran his hand up and down Sam's stomach and chest in almost a massaging manner, feeling the knots of nerves under his brother's skin begin to untie themselves as his fingers played gently over them. "Sammy." Dean's voice was hushed, calming, and he gave it time to cover Sam like a blanket before continuing. "Love you."
Sam smiled and turned his head to the side to kiss Dean's chest. "Love you, too."
Dean released a slow breath and let his hand rest at the base of Sam's stomach. "Ready?"
Instead of responding verbally, Sam spread his legs and picked up Dean's hand, placing it on the inside of his thigh. Just as Dean had done to him.
Dean automatically recognized the gesture, and the corner of his mouth turned up into a grin. "I'll take that as a yes. Even though I'm not using my hands," he reminded, lifting his hand from Sam's leg and patting his arm before moving to position himself at the end of the bed. "Alright. Grab all the pillows 'cept one for you to keep your head on and toss 'em down here."
Sam was mildly confused, but did as he was told.
Dean stacked the three pillows on top of each other and slid them forward. "I'm gonna put these under you, okay? So I can get some leverage."
Sam shook his head yes and lifted his hips so that Dean could slide the pillows under his ass.
Dean, once Sam was comfortable, bent and began placing small kisses along the insides of Sam's thighs.
Sam gasped, but remained, for the most part, silent and still. His only movement was to rest his hand on top of Dean's head.
Dean continued to make his way toward the meeting point of Sam's legs and planted a final kiss on the left side of Sam's ass before placing one hand on each side and spreading Sam gently apart.
Sam began shaking harder, then, and the hand in Dean's hair tightened slightly.
Dean didn't move, sensing that Sam needed a moment to process exactly what was about to happen. "Okay, Sammy?"
"Yeah," Sam breathed. "Just... do it. Please."
Dean leaned down again, this time gently pinching Sam's skin between his teeth. "I think I like it when you ask like that. Better be careful or I'll make you beg."
Sam groaned. "Dean. Don't."
Dean chuckled almost directly against Sam's entrance, and he could see the muscles flutter at the touch of his breath. "Okay, okay. You win."
As soon as Dean's tongue touched his hole, Sam let out a moan that could have been described in no other way than pornographic.
Dean pulled away slightly to whisper, "Jesus Christ," and then got right back to business. Sam tasted exactly the way that Dean imagined he would. Not at all dirty, because nothing about Sam could ever be dirty. He tasted like silk and cotton and his coconut-orchid scented body wash. And it may have been better than pie. Not that Dean would ever admit that, of course.
Unknowingly interrupting his brother's train of thought, Sam panted between small gasps of pleasure, "You lied, you know."
Dean stopped what he was doing, immediately beginning to backtrack. "I... About what?"
"You said you weren't gonna use your hands," Sam reminded him. "But you lied. You are."
Dean looked up at Sam from between his legs, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, am I?"
Sam nodded rather confidently. "Yeah. You're gonna fuck me with your fingers."
Dean's mouth literally dropped as he stared up at his brother in awe, amazed at his sudden dominance. "Um... I mean, yeah, if that's..."
Sam pushed himself up on his elbows. "Problem?"
Dean shook his head. "No. God, no. I just didn't expect you to... I dunno. But if that's what you want, baby boy, I'm all for it."
"It is," Sam assured him, sitting up. "Do you wanna get..."
"Lube?" Dean finished, already standing up from the bed. "Yeah. You wouldn't happen to have any in here, would you?"
Sam shook his head. "I've never had much of a use for it. Or... you know... any use for it at all, really. But we don't even have to, I just thought..."
The corner of Dean's mouth turned up into a half-smile and he placed the palm of his hand against Sam's cheek. "It'll hurt you less that way, sweetheart. I'll go get some."
Sam's mouth fell open, but no sound other than a small gasp came out.
Dean raised his eyebrow questioningly.
Sam cleared his throat and prompted, "Go," without answering his brother's unspoken question.
Shaking his fingers through his hair with a shrug, Dean exited the room.
Sweetheart. Jesus. Sam let himself fall back against the bed and ran a hand over his face. Pet names had always been kind of a thing for him, but the only one he was used to hearing from Dean was baby boy. Which, of course, had the same basic effect. It was just that he'd gotten accustomed to it. Sweetheart, though. That was new. Well, he'd heard Dean say it to plenty of waitresses and strippers and pretty much every other variety of woman out there, but it was new for Dean to say it to him, and he liked it.
Dean returned and sat down on the edge of the bed, flipping open the cap on the bottle of lube in his left hand and generously coating the fingers on his right.
The sight shut Sam's mind down, and all he could do was stare. Those fingers – those strong, graceful fingers that he'd seen so many times cleaning weapons and pulling triggers and curling into fists to knock out the motherfuckers trying to take them down – were about to be inside him.
And then they were. Well, not inside, exactly, but at his entrance. Dean, who was now lying beside Sam, was circling the tip of his middle finger around Sam's hole and applying a small amount of pressure; just enough to slide past the first ring of muscle. "Okay, sweetheart, I need you to relax for me or this won't work."
Sam gasped at his brother's second use of the endearment and forced the tension from his body as best he could.
Dean laughed, a light, sweet sound, like honey, and whispered directly into Sam's ear as if they weren't entirely alone, "Thought I didn't notice? Well, I did. And I bet sweetheart's not the only one you like, is it?"
Sam let out a loud moan as Dean's finger slipped past another ring of muscle, but didn't respond.
Dean dropped the subject for a moment and took Sam's hand in his free one. "This might hurt just a little, okay? But I'm almost in. Tell me if you need me to stop."
The motion was much more smooth than Sam expected it to be, and slightly less painful, and after just a moment of the burning sensation, he could feel nothing but the sharpest pleasure he had ever experienced in his life. It hit him hard, fast, and he could feel his orgasm building already. He knew there was no way in hell he should be finishing so quickly, especially with no friction on his cock whatsoever, but he couldn't help it. This was an entirely new feeling to him, and it was fucking good. "Mmm, Dean..."
"Like it when you say my name like that, baby." Dean's voice was low and rough and just the way Sam liked it, and Sam should've known he wouldn't just forget about the whole name thing.
Baby. Baby. Not baby boy, just baby, and fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever heard in his life. Hot enough, accompanied by the new angle that Dean had just taken on to hit Sam's prostate, to send him straight over the edge. "Oh... Oh, god... Oh, fuck, Dean, just like that. Don't stop. Fuck... Dean... Dean... Dean..." And then Sam was coming harder than he thought possible, his entire body shaking and grinding itself down on Dean's hand like he would die if he didn't get every bit of contact that he could before he finally started to come down.
Dean pulled out quickly so that it wouldn't prolong any discomfort and wrapped his arm around Sam's waist, softly kissing Sam's temple. "You okay?"
"I'm fucking awesome," came Sam's somewhat slurred reply.
Dean chuckled. "Yeah, well, you're also fucking sticky. Wanna get cleaned up?"
Sam looked up at Dean, a mischievous glint in his eye, and responded, "If getting cleaned up means getting in the shower and you showing me exactly how to suck your dick, yeah."
Dean had never gotten undressed so quickly in his life.