Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. If they were we all know the show would be very different.
Summary: Sam and Dean take a job in the desert, afterwards Dean gets it into his head to teach Sam a lesson. Basically just sweaty, dirty, Desert!Porn. This is set sometime after "Getting a Handle On It."
Genre: PWP, I could probably make up another genre too, if you guys wanted.
Acknowledgements: Thank You, Death Valley. You are the only desert I have been to in recent history.
Notes: So veronamay and I were having a talk about how we needed to see Jared in better fitting clothes and fewer layers, somehow it digressed to talk of jobs in the desert, so this fic all her fault.
There were times Sam hated this job. Not as much as he used to, it was true, although he was loathe to admit that fact to Dean. This, right here in the sweltering desert heat, was one of those times. It didn’t, of course, help that he kept being hurled into rock formations while Dean fired bullet after bullet into the...ahem...flesh-eating Sand Monster (was there no end to the things demons could take the shape of?) to absolutely no avail.
“Dean, would you just—” a large hulking arm slammed into his mid-section and he stumbled backwards into the sandy rubble. “Ugh, kill it already!”
“I’m not throwing weapons grade Plutonium at this thing with you only a foot away, genius!” Dean shouted back, cocking his gun for another shot.
Sam ducked another swipe of the arm, why was this thing only going after him? “Ethan said that he designed a containment field for the radiation! Ethan said it would be—”
“Yeah, yeah Ethan said!” Dean snapped back. Ethan was a research tech at Lockheed that they’d visited when they’d stopped over in Santa Clara on their way to Death Valley. He’d been two years above Sam at Stanford and was smart and witty and good looking. Dean despised him almost on sight, which Sam found hilarious because of all people who should be jealous it was not Dean. Also as far as he could tell Ethan had no interest in Sam that way. They’d only ever had a working relationship because Ethan had taken a job at Lockheed for the sole purpose of designing higher tech weapons for the hunt. He’d done well. So far he’d managed to mix spell-work and science to create quite a few nifty gadgets, which he often let Sam test out. One of which Dean was about to use on the Sand Monster, if he ever got tired of watching Sam get his ass kicked.
Sam finally scrambled far enough away from the Sand Monster thingy that Dean deemed it safe to finally lob the miniature charge at it. A slightly wet popping noise sounded when the charge hit and the next thing they knew, fine dark sand was flying in their faces and there was only a circle of bubbly blackened glass where the Sand Monster had formerly stood.
Sam lay down in the dust, clutching his side. “Thank god it worked.”
“Dude, there is some weird shit in Death Valley!” Dean said breathlessly falling back onto the ground. “We could set up shop here and never be out of work.”
“Not happening!” Sam replied, his voice hoarse. Even without all the nasties roaming around the desolate terrain, Sam couldn’t stand this place. “And Dean? You gotta stop about Ethan already!”
Dean shot him a look. “You’re the one who can’t shut up about him!” He took a sip of dusty water from the canteen they brought and then parroted in a thin Falsetto voice, “‘Ethan says this, Ethan says that!’”
Sam huffed out a disgruntled sigh, wiping sweat off his face but also smudging it with dirt at the same time. “I do not, Dean!” He rubbed his stomach with a pain-filled groan, rucking up his sweat-soaked wife beater and exposing the sharply cut muscles. Dean swallowed dryly, surprised that he even had the energy to be turned on by that.
“Whatever! Let’s just get back to the motel and grab a shower.” Dean made a face and wiped a heavy layer of dust off his forearm. “Or five.”
They got to their feet slowly, both of them aching and tired and hot. Dean’s knee popped loudly as he stood and Sam shot him a look and then chuckled. “I guess you’re getting’ old.”
“Shut up!” he replied good-naturedly, reaching out to swat Sam’s shoulder.
They walked back to the impala which they’d driven off the road to park in the cool shade of the sandstone cliffs. Sam was opening the door to the backseat to pull out his own canteen, when Dean grabbed his hips and twirled him around, shoving him up against the trunk.
Before Sam could ask him what was going on, Dean had sunk his fingers into Sam’s overlong hair and pulled him down for a furious kiss. Sam relaxed and smiled into Dean’s mouth, his lips parting to slide his tongue against Dean’s. Sam slid his arms around his brother’s hips, drawing his brother sharply up against him. Dean went with it, rocking his hips into Sam’s own and nipping fiercely at Sam’s full lower lip.
Dean wanted to tear Sam’s shirt off, push him back over the trunk, and run his hands all over his brother’s sweat-slicked skin. Instead he tweaked one of Sam’s nipples through the cotton. Sam made a noise in the back of his throat and wrenched his mouth away.
He leaned back into the impala, gulping in air. “Dean, what—”
“I bet you that’s one thing I do better than Ethan!” Dean interrupted.
Sam groaned again, his head falling back and his eyes rolling heavenward. “Dean, would you—” he broke off when Dean sank to his knees in front of him, pushing Sam’s shirt up with one gentle hand. Slowly he placed open-mouthed kissed along the beginnings of bruising on Sam’s torso.
Sam made a strangled noise and his sharply delineated stomach muscles quivered under Dean’s tongue. Dean reached his navel and plunged his tongue inside, causing Sam to cry out as he tasted salt and desert heat and something of Sam’s very own. Sam shifted underneath his brother’s onslaught, Dean’s clever tongue dipping into his navel repeatedly, practically fucking him with it. Sam hands slipped against the shiny black veneer of the impala as he attempted to brace himself. Dean ran the tip of his tongue downward in a straight line to where the low-slung jeans rode on Sam’s hips.
Sam finally seemed to gain part of his brain. “Dean, are you sure you want to do this at the side of the road? Anybody could—”
“Right here is just fine,” he mouthed against Sam’s skin as he reached up and undid Sam’s pants, pushing his hand inside with deft practiced movements to grasp Sam’s already diamond-hard cock.
Sam jerked against him at the first touch of Dean’s callused fingertips and practically growled his brother’s name, all protest over the location lost in the sudden haze of pleasure. Dean resumed memorizing Sam’s abdomen with his tongue, his mouth drifting over to Sam’s hipbone to suck hard. Sam could tell from the sting that he’d have another bruise over there in the shape of his brother’s mouth.
His eyes practically rolled up into his head as his brother lightly stroked him with his hand, just enough pressure to need more but not enough to soothe the ache. Sam could feel the sun-warmed metal of his brother’s car at his back and the slight beginnings of a hot desert breeze drifting across his skin and it only added to the torturous feeling building in the pit of his stomach.
Dean continued to push all of his buttons: swirling his tongue around Sam’s belly-button, biting at the groove of Sam’s hip, and wet sucking kisses at the thin skin just above Sam’s wiry pubic hair.
“Dean, stop teasing…” he grated out, his voice hoarse from the dusty air. Dean realized as he ignored Sam’s pleading that Sam sounded the exact same way after giving him a blow-job, and he had to reach down between his legs to put some pressure on his own hardened dick to remind himself that this was about teaching Sam a lesson and not about himself.
Sam was full-on writhing against his mouth now, and Dean couldn’t help grinning against his brother’s velvety golden skin.
“Dean, please!” Sam begged, his head thrown back and the muscles and tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief. “You have nothing to worry about with Ethan. He’s married, he dresses up like a drag queen on the weekends, he’s heavily into bondage!” Sam felt like he’d say anything at this point for Dean to just finish the job he’d started rather than prolonging it and stringing Sam out.
“Really?” Dean asked, pulling his mouth away from Sam’s over-sensitized skin, genuinely curious. His breath puffed out against Sam’s cock causing him to let out another beleaguered moan.
“I—what?” Sam asked, his voice husky and breathless. He had no clue what Dean was talking about. His entire world was centered upon Dean’s lips on him. Dean’s thumb hit the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock, putting just enough pressure that Sam saw stars dancing across the inside of his eye-lids. Dean smirked. His brother was completely gone and in his place was this wanton writhing young man who was willing to do anything to get Dean to suck his cock.
Dean’s fingers slid around to fondle Sam’s balls at the same time his tongue ran along the slit of Sam’s cock, lapping up the pearly drop of pre-come beading at the tip.
“Oh God, Dean!” Sam’s back arched, his hips rising up off the side of the car. “Dean, you’re enough for me… you’re everything. Want only you—mmm—want your pretty lips wrapped round my dick so bad—oh God! Can’t—”
With those words Dean finally gave in and took Sam into his mouth, sucking hard at the head as he continued to play with Sam’s balls. His brother was nearly crying in relief as he slid forward, taking in as much of Sam as he could. Sam kept his hips steady, knowing if he thrust into Dean’s mouth the way he wanted to, his brother would back off and leave him there to deal with himself.
Dean’s eyes rose to watch his brother’s face. Sam’s cheeks were flushed cherry red and his mouth was parted. Dean knew he’d see the image of Sam like this burned onto the back of his retinas for weeks to come. He moaned around Sam at the thought, relishing the sound that was wrenched out of his brother’s lungs at the sensation.
Sam was panting hard, sweat rolling down his skin, he felt like he was going to go on sensory overload at any minute. Dean’s tongue was swirling over the head just the way he liked it and he didn’t know if his brain would be able to handle much more of this. He wanted to warn Dean, tell him that if he died from over-stimulation, it was all Dean’s fault. But he was too far gone to form coherent sentences. Dean continued to suck on him like he had all the time in the world and no better way to spend it than to blow his brother in the middle of Death Valley in the late afternoon. He hollowed his cheeks around Sam, knowing his brother was close from the little hitched noises he made in the back of his throat. He pressed his finger against the highly responsive skin behind Sam’s balls and swirled his tongue over the head of Sam’s cock one last time.
Sam moaned again and felt everything explode, pleasure radiating through all of his clenched muscles. Dean managed to smile around Sam’s dick and swallowed his brother’s come, some of the excess dribbling out to the corner of his lips. He pulled back and rolled to his feet, eyeing his brother. Sam was leaning prone against the side of the car, looking for all the world as if he’d just run a ten-k race.
“Dean,” Sam’s voice was harsh and gasping. Dean raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. The self-satisfied expression on his face was probably communication enough. Sam finally opened his eyes to look at his brother. After a moment he reached up and wiped away the remaining come from his brother’s face, and stared at him solemnly.
They were both startled by the crunch of tires on gravel and turned to see a car making its way over to the side of the road to park behind them. It was a large SUV filled with kids, teenagers really, who lived in the nearest town, Ridgecrest. Sam hastily tucked himself back in while Dean started cracking up.
“Hey, everything all right?” the driver called, sticking his head out the window. “No car trouble?”
Dean shook his head. “Nah, just pulled over to switch drivers.”
Sam shuddered at the raspy quality of his brother’s voice, hoping that these kids didn’t know enough about sex to guess what it was from. Although that was probably a trifling matter as the road was completely straight and one could see far off into the distance. No doubt they’d been able to see ten miles back exactly what Dean had been doing to Sam.
“All right then, just checking,” the driver called back and waved, before pulling back onto the road.
Dean nodded back, with a barely restrained grin. Sam wanted to bury himself in the sand for the next lifetime whereas Dean looked ready to dance a jig.
“That’s for the bar!” Dean said with a pointed look at Sam.
Sam snorted. “I thought that was because you were jealous of Ethan.”
Dean furrowed his brow and looked away. “Was not.”
“Oh, yeeah right.” Sam crossed his arms.
Dean cleared his throat and reaching out to finger the hem of Sam’s wife beater, changed the subject, “You know, you really should wear this shirt more often.” He ran his eyes over Sam’s glistening biceps and the muscular contours of his chest that the tight shirt revealed.
Sam blushed and walked around to the other side of the car. “Ugh, I would do anything for a shower at this point.”
Dean got into the car and started up the engine, looking over at Sam as he slid into his seat. “Anything eh?” he looked pointedly downwards at his own painful hard-on.
Sam’s followed Dean’s gaze and laughed. “Well, that goes without saying.”