Day 11: Eleven Hours Straight

Sam awoke with a start when he felt the Impala go over a dip in the pavement. He sat up, blinking his bleary eyes, and looked out the passenger window. The sun was just starting to crest the horizon, blinding in its brilliance but lending no real warmth to the frozen, snow-covered fields that flew by.

Sam quickly sat up in his seat and looked at his watch. "It's seven?" he asked, looking over at Dean accusingly. "I told you to wake me up at four so we could switch places!"

They'd been driving for hours, eleven in fact once Sam did the math, and Dean had pretty much done all of it. Sam had started out on this trip driving last night, surprised down to his bones when Dean had allowed it. But Sam had quickly become fatigued though because of the fact that he'd been up going on almost 20 hours; they both had.

Sam wished he could say the lack of sleep was from a marathon round of sex but in all reality fighting a gang of Rugarus had been the thing that had kept them up that whole time. The chase they were on now, driving over state lines and pushing almost half a day of driving was because two of the bastard monsters, from the initial gang of eight, had been leading them on a chase that the brothers were determined to put an end to before more lives were lost, especially on Christmas day.

Dean had seen the exact moment when Sam first started rubbing his eyes somewhere around the Kansas border yesterday and ordered him back in the passenger seat, promising that he'd wake him after a few hours so they could switch.

And now here they were, way more than halfway to their destination with Dean having done way more than his fair share.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam asked, still awaiting an answer.

Dean glanced over at him and shrugged. "You needed your sleep," he said.

Sam could see the bloodshot state of his eyes and knew Dean was pushing the limits of his alertness. "Pull over, it's my turn. You need to sleep," he demanded.

Dean shook his head, "I got this, baby boy. Besides, I'm not even tired."

Sam folded his arms across his chest, narrowing his eyes. It was so obvious Dean was exhausted, it wasn't even funny. But he was gonna be stubborn about this, like everything else in his life.

Smiling to himself, Sam suddenly thought of a surefire way for Dean to admit he was tired; he knew Dean always got really drowsy after blow jobs.

Inching his way across the bench seat, Sam reached his hand forward, rubbing slow circles over Dean's thigh before dipping it down between his legs to cup his package. Dean throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed but he kept his eyes on the road.

Sam grinned and slowly unzipped Dean's jeans. Dean gasped and tightened his grip over the steering wheel when Sam fished his already hardening cock from his opened fly. Licking his lips and locking his eyes with Dean's for one breathtaking moment, Sam curled his body forward and took Dean into his mouth.

He swirled his tongue around the velvety soft head of Dean's cock, gathering up the salty fluid that gathered there before loosening his jaw and swallowing down Dean's length in one go.

Feeling Dean shudder gave Sam a feeling of satisfaction that he couldn't ever describe. It was bliss, pure and simple.

And then Dean's hand was suddenly in Sam's hair, tangling in the long strands pushing and pulling him up and down his cock. Sam was happy to let Dean set the pace and did his best to apply suction and drag his tongue across the throbbing flesh crowding his mouth.

Dean's breath was suddenly coming in faster and faster pants and Sam knew he was close. He grasped a fist around the base of Dean's cock, twisting in the opposite direction his mouth was moving up the shaft and that was all it took.

"Oh, Sammy. Fuuck!" Dean grunted, fisting his hand in Sam's hair almost hard enough to make it hurt.

Sam moaned appreciatively, pulling off just enough so he could feel the warm spurts of Dean's come as it splashed across his tongue.

Swallowing down Dean's taste, Sam sat back up, helping tuck Dean back in his pants. "Merry Christmas," he whispered, kissing Dean on his stubbly cheek.

Dean muttered a sleepy reply, stifling a yawn. "You know, Sammy. I think I'm gonna let you take a turn driving now."

Sam chuckled, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. Works every time, he thought to himself.

"Whatever you say, Dean," he said with a laugh as Dean started pulling the car to the snow covered shoulder of the road.