|[||music|||||Rock Me, Amadeus-Falco||]|
Title: Getting a Handle on It
Disclaimer: I did not make this up! It totally happened. Except not. Because they're characters made by Eric Kripke, who owns my soul. So you know, I lay no claim to them. Except when I want them to do naughty things.
Summary: Sam gets tired of Dean flirting with girls, so he takes things into his own hands. Literally.
Genre: PWP, silliness!
Acknowledgements: Thank you for the inspiration ericaplease, you get partial credit for this story! Also, I don't know why I like under the table kink so much. You'll just have to live with it.
Sam hated going to bars with Dean. This was an established fact. Dean knew it—the entire goddamned world probably knew it. The fact that Dean did not give a fuck was another established fact. In fact, Sam was coming to believe that Dean enjoyed making him uncomfortable—that he enjoyed making Sam jealous at bars. It would certainly fit his brother’s modus operandi.
It had been suggested by people who knew nothing that Sam was simply jealous of his brother’s prowess at wooing girls out of their panties. Anybody who had half a brain and their full faculties of observation would know this was not the case. It wasn’t Sam to begrudge another their talents; it was Sam to begrudge anybody who got to have Dean.
Thus, when they once again headed out to another bar, Sam felt a headache coming on. Dean, of course, got that wicked little glint in his eyes that said he was going to enjoy a long night of torturing Sam to kingdom come. Sam was sick of it. While Dean had stopped going home with any of those girls a long time ago, it was still awful to see him acting like that. But what choice did he have? Zero, that’s what.
When they settled in at a table and Dean went off to get them a round, Sam pulled his laptop out, fully ready to spend the entire night being bored and irked.
“Dude, this is why you never get chicks!” Dean remarked as he sat the two beer bottles down, gesturing at the computer. Sam glared at his brother but continued surfing through google. Sam very much wanted to point out that he never got chicks because of Dean, but then Dean would purposely misunderstand and say that he tried to get Sam good lays, and he really did not want to have that conversation again.
“You know I’m startin’ to think the only action you get is when we’re hunting sex demons!” Dean jibed.
Sam glanced up over his computer screen, his expression giving away his ill-humor. “Dean, the only action I get is you.”
Dean inhaled sharply and turned away from Sam. Sam knew how uncomfortable it made his brother to actually talk about what it was they did. Like if you actually spoke about it, you made it somehow evil. If you acted on it in public, you made it real for other people too.
Sam sighed. “If we have to be here, can you just leave me in peace?” Dean didn’t even seem to notice that Sam had, in a move somewhat out of character, resigned himself to watching his brother’s bar-room seduction happen without doing anything.
Sam knew that tone of voice; that was Dean’s ‘I’ve seen something good enough to eat’ voice. That same voice that Sam wished was directed at him more often. Dean would not have answered the query to leave him alone with that voice. What the hell was going on?
He looked upwards again and caught sight of the thing that had inspired Dean’s proclamation: a tall leggy blonde. A tall leggy blonde with impressive c-cups walked straight towards them with a very clear purpose.
Sam came to a lightning-quick decision. If Dean could torture Sam, Sam could torture Dean. What was Dean always saying, life was a “two-way street”? Hah.
“Hi, I’m Sarah.” Her teeth flashed at the two of them, but that smoldering gaze was definitely directed at his brother. Sam internally growled at her, not knowing how it was that Dean managed to make him feel so edgily out of control.
Well, the wheel of fortune does spin back around.
“Hi, I’m—” before Dean could finish, Sam reached over and without preamble grasped Dean’s cock firmly in his right hand. The small startled sound Dean made practically turned Sam’s day around. “Dean. Yeah, I’m Dean,” his brother finally managed to get out as Sam’s fingers lightly massaged his dick through the denim. Sam could feel Dean hardening under his palm, so he continued to knead him through the fabric.
Dean twitched a few times, as if debating what to do with himself, but, thankfully, didn’t start yelling at Sam to go molest someone else. He counted this as a minor victory. Dean was going to be shown what exactly it meant to flirt with girls around his brother.
Sam kept his eyes nonchalantly trained on the screen, his chin resting on his fist, as his hand continued to work under the table.
“And you are?” Sarah turned to him, her even white teeth flashing at him again.
Sam’s eyes rose upwards, slowly like he was an appraising an artwork by an artist he wasn’t all that fond off. “Sam,” was all he said before turning back to the screen, noting out of the corner of his eye that Dean’s grip on his bottle had gone white-knuckled. He was hard-pressed not to burst out giggling as he ground the heel of his palm downwards.
“So, Dean, what are you doing around here?” Sarah asked, her voice calculatedly sensual, as she leaned forward onto the table. Sam had seen this act before. He’d seen it plenty; girls just tended to lose it around Dean.
Dean shifted in his seat for a second and then seemed to regain his equilibrium, and that was seriously not good.
“Just passing through,” Dean said vaguely, his quick intake of breath as Sam unzipped his jeans and plunged a hand inside catching his last syllable. Sam continued to pretend that he had absolutely no interest in the conversation as he subtly worked his brother under the table. Dean had two options, either push him off, which Sarah would notice, or let him continue, which Sarah would probably also notice (especially if Dean continued to make those little humming noises).
Oh, but Dean was caught between a rock and hard place. And wasn’t it lovely? Sam’s fingertips swirled up over the head of Dean’s cock. Dean bit his lip in order to stop from crying out, though Sam could still hear the small suppressed sound he made, and he could also tell that the muscles in Dean’s neck were quivering from the strain.
“You all right, Dean?” Sarah asked with a stress on his brother’s name that was downright dirty.
“Yeah, Dean, are you good?” Sam asked with mock concern, his voice going low and dirty on his last word.
“Yeah, I’m—mmmh—fine!” Dean answered, once again squirming in his seat, but trying to cover it up with a small forced smile. Sam tightened his grip on Dean’s cock and began to jack him in earnest, grazing Dean’s cock-head with his callused fingertips whenever possible.
Sarah smiled, probably thinking that Dean was falling to pieces all over her, which Sam would have loved to announce to the entire bar was so not true. “So, Dean who’s just passing through, where you from originally?”
“Oh you know,” Dean cleared his throat as Sam’s fingers loosened once again, just ghosting over Dean’s balls like they were barely even there. “Here and—uh—there.”
And Sam wasn’t sure if his brother was answering Sarah’s question or commanding him to keep doing what he was doing. He had to hide a smile behind a yawn when Dean glared at him pointedly, but he continued to stroke Dean smoothly, his fingers spreading the pre-come leaking out to give his grip a little extra slide.
“A man of mystery, then?” Sarah leaned forward onto her arms, her breasts shoved together in a prominent display, and Sam wondered why couldn’t Dean ever pick the ones who gave up easily.
He thumbed the crown of Dean’s cock and was rewarded by Dean’s eyes slamming shut as he tried to form a coherent reply. “Yeah, I guess you could—mmm—say that.”
Dean was trying his hardest to stay still on his stool, and Sam thought it truly must have been a Herculean effort to keep his current state off of his face. Although the flush that suffused Dean’s cheeks would be telling to anyone who actually knew him.
Sarah leaned even closer. “I like my men mysterious.”
Sam couldn’t prevent the snort that escaped him at that ridiculous pronouncement as he typed on his computer one-handed. How had it escaped her notice that his right shoulder was moving erratically and his other hand had never been seen above the table? If he’d seen someone else doing this, he’d probably assume they were jacking themselves off, let alone someone else, but she wasn’t even shooting him weird looks.
He sped his hand up on Dean’s dick, enjoying the small desperate sounds that flowed past Dean’s lips when he couldn’t stop himself. Dean’s head bowed and he chewed savagely at his lip, his desperate attempt to appear normal failing miserably.
“Oh ffff—I mean, yeah thanks.” Dean finally replied to Sarah’s lame come-on, his hips rolling upward into Sam’s closed fist. “What about—uh—you, Sarah?”
Dean was going to break that bottle soon if he didn’t loosen his grip.
“Oh, me? I’m a local girl. No mystery at all to me.” She said with a coy giggle, and Sam finally looked up from his computer, shooting her a look that clearly said, ‘no, there really isn’t’.
“What’s it—like living—here?” Dean replied brokenly, all his characteristic smoothness completely gone with Sam’s hand on his cock. Sam slowed his stroke down to a tortuously slow pace, enjoying just touching Dean’s dangerously hard cock while his brother nearly lost it. Sarah probably thought his brother had a speech impediment, since she clearly wasn’t catching on to what was happening underneath the table.
“Oh, you know, we don’t get many handsome strangers like you . . .” She trailed off, leaving the statement an invitation.
Dean’s thigh muscles were trembling, Sam could feel it, and he smiled at Sarah like he was finally taking an interest in her existence. She threw him a glance and then turned back to Dean, her finger twirling in her shiny blonde hair.
“No—God—no reason to flatter me,” Dean answered awkwardly, his tongue poking out to swipe at his lower lip, a sure sign that he was close. That was definitely sweat shining on Dean’s brow, too.
She looked downwards, her eyelids fluttering in a way that usually brought the boys running, just not this one, not this time. “Oh, well, you know . . .”
Sam leaned over to Dean, keeping his eyes trained on Sarah the entire time, like he was giving his buddy the secret guy talk go-ahead to fuck her, and whispered, “You’re close aren’t you?”
Dean shivered as Sam’s breath hit his ear, his eyes closed again and he drew in a deep stabilizing breath. Sam finally sped his hand up again, adding the quick swoop and flick with his wrist that was guaranteed to make Dean come apart.
He continued to look at Sarah, who was watching them curiously. “You’re going to come for me.”
Dean’s breath hitched, and Sam heard that little hiccoughing sound Dean always denied he made just before he came.
“It’s going to be for me, too, not” Sam stressed “for her!”
And then Dean was there, coming all over his hand, underneath the table, in a bar full of sleazy townies and bored young women.
“Oh God!” Dean’s body went sort of boneless and his grip finally loosened on the bottle, plunking it down loudly on the table.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Dean?” Sarah asked needlessly. Dean was more than all right, unless climaxing was somehow harmful to Dean’s constitution. Something that would doubtlessly not even deter Dean if it was the truth.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he quivered a little from the aftershocks and Sam had to hand it to himself, Dean had flown apart with just a simple hand-job. “Anyway, it was nice talkin’ to you, Sarah. Maybe we’ll see you around sometime?”
He offered Sarah a mind-blowing smile to go with his dismissal, but she still looked put out as she stomped past their table, to her friends who were seated somewhat behind them.
“What the fuck was that, asshole?” Dean turned to Sam getting into his space.
“Oh, you didn’t like it?” Sam asked innocently as he wiped his hand off with a bar napkin still underneath the table.
“In fucking public, Sam?” Dean shifted around in his seat, zipping himself up.
“I was bored, what can I say?” Sam replied, turning back to his computer.
Dean snorted taking a long swig of beer, muttering under his breath that Sam was a complete shit. Sam just grinned at his computer screen. Dean got to his feet.
“I’m getting another beer. If you want any you can fucking go and get your own!” Dean stomped off towards the bar, and Sam finally released the laughter he’d been holding in for the entirety of their little interlude with Sarah.
“So what happened with that guy over there?” he heard a voice ask from behind him.
“Oh, he was all twitchy and weird. Kept gasping and I dunno, I think he might have been a retard or something.” He heard Sarah answer back behind him.
Sam only laughed harder, rubbing his eyes with his left hand. He looked back over his shoulder to see Sarah standing with her back turned to him at a table of other girls. One tiny little brunette caught his glance and raised her eyebrows, her eyes running over the right arm still resting partially underneath the table. She’d probably been able to see quite clearly that Sam’s hand had been in Dean’s lap.
He winked at her, and she smiled back. Dean returned, thumping his next beer down.
“I don’t get it, how can you have just given me a hand-job in front of all these people and sit there so unaffected!” Dean grumped. “Man, I would fucking kill you right here if I wasn’t worried about these idiots joining in!” Dean gestured at the bar’s other patrons.
Sam looked over at Dean, his eyes dark and his amusement completely gone. “Not so unaffected, Dean.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m not so unaffected,” Sam reiterated. “Those little sounds you make when you’re fighting not to—better than hardcore porn, Dean.”
“Sam, we are still in the bar!” Dean replied as if he was talking to a very small, very stupid child.
“Hey, you asked.” Sam turned back to the article displayed on the screen.
Dean sat there for a few seconds, grumbling, before finally setting his beer down and shooting Sam a look. “Not so unaffected, huh?” Dean’s voice was pitched low. It was exactly the kind of voice that could get Sam impossibly hard. Dean’s palm slid up his thigh.
“No, not so unaffected,” he repeated again, his voice husky.
He could practically feel the smirk on Dean’s face as his brother leaned in to whisper in his ear, “How about we take this outside?”
They got up, Sam hurriedly grabbing and stowing his computer, before turning around and walking towards the door. Their journey outwards brought them past Sarah’s table.
The tiny little brunette spoke up as they passed, “By the way, Sarah, I don’t think that Dean guy is retarded; I think he’s just with the other guy.”
Dean choked as they passed and Sam erupted into laughter.
“She-she thought I was retarded?” Dean nearly shouted when they had gotten a suitable distance away.
Sam snorted behind the fist he’d brought up to stifle his laughs. “Sometimes you have that effect on people.”
“Oh forget it, Sam!” Dean stalked outside a few steps ahead of his younger brother, his boots crunching on the gravel of the parking lot. “I am still killing you!”
“Does killing involve lots of messy kissing and me sticking my dick in you?” Sam asked his brother as he easily caught up to him.
“SAM! WE ARE STILL IN PUBLIC!”