Disclaimer: Still not owning it. XD A.N. Cheers to you for continuing, or coming back. Enjoy!

One day and a half later they're in Kissimmee. Dean can't help but wonder if they picked it at random on a map just for the giggles. It's not like he knows how they actually decide where to move next. Sure, by his experience, they're much more on the intense side of the scale rather than the playful. But they must want a laugh sometimes too, don't they? Or maybe they've decided that the new generation deserves a trip to Disneyland after all the murders are done, since they're skipping their childhoods, so might as well get close.

First of all: find a motel for the both of them. Out of the way, to avoid the wrong kind of attention, no matter what might happen. Next...now comes the hard part. No, not making sure that an Amazon will pick his brother. He just needs to figure out their hunting ground and make sure Sam enters the place. They're looking for top-grade genetic material, after all. And they've selected him once. The Winchester DNA might as well be catnip, as far as Amazons are concerned. For all the boys' flaws, troubles, and occasional curses, you can't find fault with what they have to offer.

The hard part will be to convince Sam to actually go through with it and agree to her come-ons. It's not just that Sam doesn't flirt as naturally as Dean does. All these years, you'd think he'd have learned; he had the best to look up to, after all.

But he had to basically toss Sammy at people even before they acknowledged that nope, they were it for each other, as weird as that was. Now? His baby brother is all for showing off. Little bit of an exhibitionist, if the situation's right, and frankly, Dean is all for indulging him. Actually adding playmates, though? He'd be much more likely to bite off any limb that tried to touch either of them, and Dean wouldn't even chide him...much. You have to be invited before grabbing anything, much less anyone, no matter if you're man, woman, vampire, ghoul, or other humanoid-shaped creature. Don't they teach that shit in kindergarten?

He could just come out and admit the truth, yes. Let Sam decide. But he doesn't want to risk getting a no. Besides, if he had to explain his stupid hangups, and why he didn't nab Sam any good eyes ages ago... He's ashamed enough of himself. He doesn't want his brother angry at him.

So he'll take a gamble and somewhat try to manipulate him, even if that's basically guaranteed to piss him off even worse, when Sam sees through him. But maybe his baby brother won't ever realize what he's done. Yeah, fat chance, but you never know. Maybe Dean'll get lucky.

Yeah, he should know better than this. But he can't help himself, when it comes to Sammy. Dean'll do what he thinks is best. The exact wrong way, so long as it's the fastest one. Yes, they're immortal now. But things need to get done, don't they? He can't exactly spend ages talking his baby brother around, can he?

Sam lets him hold the leash because he knows he can trust Dean to make the right decisions. Dean's just going to take that and tug, until things go his way. Besides, it's always better to beg forgiveness than take a denial. He's an expert at earning the clemency of the judge. The only one Dean gives two shits about.

They adjust to the room - which entails Dean helping Sam get the lay of the land, so to speak. Damn, but it'd be brilliant to have a base they could stick to in situations like these. Not that this specific problem will present itself again for a few decades. At least unless some monster spits venom in their eyes, or manages to slash them, or...Ok, yes, their job isn't the best if you want to stay healthy long-term. But hey, they've learned to manage.

"So?" Sam asks, after sitting down. "What's this last case about?" Wondering how quick Dean'll be done and finally do what he should already have accomplished, probably.

"Well, I'm not 100% sure yet, mind. I definitely need to doublecheck a few things. But I'm thinking it may be Vetalas."

"Are you fucking crazy?" It's a roar, and almost before he can blink, Sam's on him. Dean ends up on the bed, his not-so-little brother looming above him, holding him down. It would be terrifying if Dean didn't know the reason for this, and adore his boy for it. Sam's tone lowers back to something they might not hear in Miami, when he snaps, "Vetalas hunt in pairs."

"And who taught you that, hmmm?" He replies, smug.

"You're not working on this case before getting me back to fighting fit."

"Dunno, Sammy, you look pretty fit to me." Dean laughs.

"You know what I mean," his baby boy grouses. "Can't exactly strike blindly. Or is this where you tell me you reconnected with some other hunter? Managed to convince them that we shouldn't be put down, despite everything? Got yourself another partner coming to watch your back?"

This is where Dean should start being concerned. If Sam's that jealous already, and no one else had even entered the picture... It's flattering, though. Sure, they only have each other. But part of him has never healed after every time Sam left, so that growl? That demanding, dark edge? It's a balm to be loved that much.

Dean sighs, pretending to be put upon. "I have a plan, baby boy. And yes, it includes you, of course it does. Even blind, you're the most awesome partner I could wish for. They could give me my pick of all the hunters in the world, The Bachelor-style, and I'd only want you anyway. See, we're going to play their own game against them."

"What?" Hey, he's listening. Success.

"You know, one flirts with some idiot, and then - little bite, the partner he had no idea about helps herself, too, and dude is poisoned and turns into the next few meals. So - we go out. We can give you an earpiece, if you want, to make sure...mostly because I'm not sure I can trust your flirting abilities."

That gets him an epic bitchface but no objection...yet. So he continues to explain, "You make her think you're hooked, only - you're the one with an extra partner she doesn't even imagine. You just have to avoid being bitten. I'll make sure to get the second one before she can join the party, and then it'd be us, two on one. Might even be fun."

Sam nods, a smile spreading on his face. Dean knows his baby boy - he's hated being sidelined with a passion, lately. Exactly like when he was a kid. Getting him back in the game, even when he feels a little broken? That's the kind of affirmation that's better than getting a whole library all to himself.

Dean rolls them over. "They won't be looking for prey before tonight, probably...so we have a few hours. Have to make sure you're ready, Sammy."

A questioning noise leaves the boy's throat.

"I'll need a little time to take care of the second one. I believe you can take care of her on your own, but truth is...I want to see you in action, baby. Missed it. So let's make sure you understand the difference between 'about to be bitten, all bets are off' and foreplay, huh? Besides, I do believe that anyone hungry would go for you, but - pretty much most other people would, too. Let's try to avoid breaking noses without need."

Dean is a man on a mission, but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy it. If he wants his brother to fuck someone else tonight (he doesn't, per se, but needs must, and at least they'd be even - kinda), Sammy needs to be already wired. Can't exactly trust an Amazon to seduce him, especially with one of his senses down. Sam's not like him, anyway. He takes longer to spark up - but when he does, he's a hurricane. That is, unless Dean holds the leash tight enough to keep him in check.

This training - that's the angle he's going for, and he'll stick to his story - is the perfect means for so many ends. Dean takes his time. He's all over Sam, kissing every exposed inch of him, and nibbling at him alternately. His baby boy is supposed to let him play, but push him away when he's about to nibble. By the time Dean's satisfied with his performance, Sam's panting harshly, and hard as a rock.

"Next level," he groans, and starts undressing his brother.

Sam helps him, shrugging and arching under him, but when Dean kisses his clavicle, he half-moans, "What?"

"Training ain't done, puppy."

"I'm not letting her -" he objects.

Dean interrupts him with a sharp nip, and announces, "You're out."

Sam grunts in protest. "'Won't," he insists

"You're keeping her distracted until I take her partner down. Yes, I'll be as quick as possible. But if she gets handsy? Better to endure it than try to kick her ass on your own."

Sam whines, but ducks his head. Acceptance. He's not going to argue with him. Not like right now he has the brainpower to present his case like the lawyer he should have been, if Dean didn't fuck up his life. (Azazel did, yeah. Still, different choices...who knows. The worst is, as guilty as he feels every now and then, he's so happy with what they have, he might not change a single one even if he hopped into Doc's DeLorean.)

Back to the game. Kissing, licking, nibbling. Over and over and over. Hands restless, gentling skin that, from his brother's wrecked moans, must be oversensitive, even when Dean's lips have been nothing but feather-light for the moment. The hand Sam's not using for the game grabbing, as if he would fly apart without more of Dean than his maddening lips to anchor himself to. Half-sobs breaking a litany of Dean's name, answered in kind in between kisses.

It's lucky that Dean knows his brother as well as he does, because he knows when to stop. Christ, he can't believe that Sam was about to come just from Dean's unrelenting kisses and soft caresses, untouched where it should count. Things like that can go to someone's head.

"Dee," his brother keens, arching, desperate.

"Settle," Dean replies, stern, and Sam does, with a sigh. Dean continues, and just because he can, when his boy is back from the brink, he allows himself one single lick to Sam's weeping head. Truth is, he adores his brother's taste.

Then he hurriedly crabwalks down, until he can play with Sam's feet and miles-long legs, slowly rising back upwards. "Kick me if you think I'll bite." Sam doesn't argue that this is never going to happen, again. He's accepted the game...but he probably doesn't expect Dean to be as cruel as he plans to be.

They should just stop, really. Sam got the message, and Dean needs him primed for tonight. But he's going to have to watch someone else steal his Sammy. Even if it's his own plan, Dean isn't feeling merciful at all.

When he's back up, tormenting his puppy's inner thighs, he lets himself go for the prize again. Trail kisses up Sam's near-purple cock, lave it, listen to his puppy's broken pleading. Sam's about ready to burst when Dean finally, finally takes him in his mouth...and instead of sucking, he bites. Quick and sharp, pulling Sam back from orgasm again rather than letting him fall.

His baby boy yelps, shrill, and Dean sits back on his haunches and grins up at him. Sam might not see him clearly, but he has no doubt his brother knows him well enough to feel it.

"We're far from done, puppy."

"Please." Breathless with desire.

"Behave," Dean orders, and manhandles him exactly the way he wants. Turned around, on all fours, so his weeping cock can't even get stimulation from rubbing against the mattress. Sam's limbs are shaking, but he doesn't take that as an excuse to disobey.

"Use your elbow if I'm about to bite," he explains, and then blankets Sam, going to town on the sweaty, ample expanse of his back. Kissing. Licking. Nipping (or trying to). Over and over and over. Ignoring the way his puppy shivers with arousal, arches for more and then lowers, trying to escape his relentless attentions.

When Sam falls for a nibble on the small of his back, Dean can't help himself. Instead of a quick chiding and then going back to work, he stays there and sucks what's going to be an impressive bruise. Not like Amazons have ever cared if their victims were married.

When his mouth is free, he sneers, "Really, baby boy? Now we have to start again."

Sammy sobs, near out of his mind with arousal. Dean's only answer is to press on his new hickey. Really, the boy shouldn't be so whiny. It's not just his boy's arousal that Dean has been ignoring, and Sam can feel that perfectly well.

Dean's enjoying Sam's objectively delicious ass when their equilibrium shifts. He's not even close to nibbling, and his puppy hasn't overreacted once tonight, blocking Dean when he wasn't up to anything forbidden. Then again, Sam enjoys bites - giving and receiving them - so it's no surprise that he'd rather have a few than interrupt Dean's kisses.

But that means... "Don't you even think about it, Sammy" he snaps, hand going to snatch his brother's and pushing it back against the mattress.

"Dee!" There's heat in that whine.

"Thought you'd have realized. This afternoon isn't for fun. Have you forgotten? This is training. After we're done, you'll get your rewards, puppy, promise. But you have to be good for me right now. No playing."

"Can't."

"Oh, you can, of course you can. Remember that time in Utah?" That had been a glorious week...For half of which, he'd teased Sam into incoherence without letting him come once. He'd made up to him after, plenty of times.

Sam turns around, pouting a little. "Fine." Deep breath. "On one condition."

"I'm listening."

"I'm sucking you off before we leave."

Dean almost chokes on his own saliva at the matter-of-fact announcement. "It doesn't seem fair," he replies, when he has himself under control again. Not that he wants to refuse, not at all. But he's feeling guilty enough about his plans for the night. Staying fair, at least for some definition of the word, seems important.

Sam huffs. "I'm not having you distracted during work. Or tempted. Or -"

Dean slaps his flank, light, interrupting whatever other doubt about his integrity his brother's trying to convey. " Is that what you think of me? That I wouldn't have your back if someone else tried to flirt with me?"

Sam gives him a sassy smile. "Just want to be sure. Besides, you'll catch me up later, right? Or are you too old for that?"

"Are you trying to get in trouble? Fine, puppy, I'll give you a treat to eat...but just for that attitude, after you've won another round."

"Promise?"

"Uh-huh."

A tremulous sigh, and Sam snaps, "Get it over with."

Not even the promise of a blow job can make Dean rush his last chance to tease for the night. It's the principle of the thing. Besides, rushing towards the case means rushing towards...well, that.

So Dean takes his time instead. He breathes Sam in, laps his sweat up, hands running over him nonstop. He lets every pant, keen and moan seep deep into his bones. Feels him shudder and tremble and doesn't let him crumble, not yet, not so soon. (Yes, it's been hours, but he still needs more. He needs to have. Needs to -)

And then Sam's sobbing, "Lemme...God, Dean -" and - molasses slow, reluctant - Dean lets him go. He watches Sam stumble off the bed, half-roll, really. Smiles at the way giant paws come searching for him, craving. Sits down, legs splayed, and stops trying to hold onto any control. His puppy's hungry - starving, truly - and Dean's going to provide. He's just a lucky sonofabitch, that providing now means too-tight pants being tugged down (he might have to toss them), a cute nose burying itself in his underwear, before teeth and tongue make short work of that, too.

Then...Yeah, Dean's not going to last long. Especially since he finds himself deep in Sam's throat seconds after he's breached the perfection of his mouth. Baby boy isn't playing around, this time. He needs Dean, and he needs him -probably feels like a week ago. And he knows how to get him. Dean refuses to be embarrassed about how quickly this ends. Not with the way Sam licks his lips afterwards, or the satisfied (in a way) sigh that leaves him when he gets up, still agonizingly hard himself, for an undoubtedly cold shower.