Title: There's No Afterglow For Something That Officially Never Happened
Pairing: Sam/Dean (Wincest)
Rating: Hard R
Summary: The battle of not knowing when to shut up or let things go continues between Sam and Dean, and even if it's mostly Sam's fault, Dean still has to dig himself in deeper.
Also: anteka's birthday was this weekend, and she asked me to write her something yesterday as she was sick. I don't know if this is what she had in mind, but I hope it's not too sexed-up for her. :)
Author's Notes: I bow to eighth_horizon's work in general, and while I can't promise that this is in exactly the same spirit of her original I tried not to alter the spirit of her characterization. Much. This follow-on is less witty and more… well, it's basically porn, is what it is. Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox, Barb! *smoochies*
Sam still didn't know how Dean managed to sneak out of bed and into the shower without waking him. Unless Dean bailed out of bed in the middle of the night, and had been hiding in the bathroom ever since. Which was highly likely, Sam thought. As likely as Dean humping him in his sleep, which was exactly the kind of thing that would levitate Dean into an entirely new astral plane of denial.
And Sam could totally laugh about it. Not that he wasn't a little weirded-out still, but that silk-over-steel sensation that was all Dean—and the sight of Dean arching up underneath him, gasping in spite of himself... Yeah. That trumped weird any day. If Sam had any doubts about that, his sudden erection pushing against the sheets was ready to yell "liar" to the world any second now.
When Dean came out of the bathroom, he was wearing a towel and his face was flushed under his wet hair.
And if Dean thought Sam was going to let an opportunity like that pass, he clearly had not learned a damned thing.
"So," Sam began, his voice low and husky, and was it his imagination or did Dean just spaz a little? "About—"
"No," Dean said quickly.
"There's no It. Or This. Or… whatever. Nothing to discuss." Dean turned away and began rooting in his duffle bag for some clothes.
"Oh, but there is." Sam sat up and let his arms dangle over his splayed-out knees. "It starts with Oh, Sam and ends at Yeah, like that, with a big detour through the wet spot on your side of the bed from all those things we weren't doing last night. After the first time."
Dean's back stiffened. "It was an accident—a mistake. Let's just forget the whole thing."
"An accident is when you fall into a hole, Dean. When you wrap your hand around mine and help me jack you off, that's deliberate." Not to mention hot, which he would not give Dean the satisfaction of hearing.
Dean definitely flinched. And fuck, getting Dean on the defensive was definitely turning Sam's crank all over again…
"You did me, though. So it's still all on you."
Sam's mouth twitched in annoyance. "Just because you're selfish in bed does not make this all about me, Dean."
"Hey! I'm not… wait a minute." Realization dawned on Dean's face. "You know what? Forget it. I'm not getting pulled into this again."
"The hell you say," Sam said mildly. "Doesn't matter. Bottom buys breakfast. So now you can look all tough out in public." He leaned back against the pillow and considered Dean appraisingly.
"Stop calling me that already!"
Sam grinned, loving it when Dean was flustered. "I don't have to say it. We both know it."
Dean strode over to the bed rapidly, and then changed his mind and stood there with crossed arms. "Okay, once again—not talking about it. Get dressed."
Sam sat up quickly and yanked Dean down onto the bed on top of him. "Wrong idea," he said. He rolled Dean under him and blocked the arm that came up toward his throat, folding it down over Dean's chest and leaning in.
"Dude, you're like, naked," Dean squirmed. "Get off me, you big pervert."
"I'm not taking shit from a guy wearing a t-shirt and underwear. You look like you're going to a slumber party." Sam hiked a leg over Dean's and settled in on top of him again, images of Dean wrapped around him filling his head. "I've got a whole different view on things now. Starting with, I see you shutting up for a change and giving me the good pillow tonight. And I see you handing over the keys to the damn car for the next week."
Dean struggled underneath him. "Why would I do any of that? And Jesus Christ, you're heavy." He tried to roll to the side but Sam's weight stopped him. A look of embarrassment flitted across his face suddenly, and Sam felt the friction that had caused it.
I should hate myself for this, but… to hell with that. Sam rolled his hips over Dean's and watched Dean gasp and squeeze his eyes shut in response.
"Who taught you to like this, Dean?" he murmured low, pulling Dean's arms open and stroking up the insides as he pushed them back on either side of Dean's head.
"Who—nobody! Nobody taught me anything. And I don't like it."
"Of course not," Sam laughed softly. "That's why you don't respond to this at all." He swept his legs up over and in between Dean's thighs and spread them, pulling Dean down by the shoulders and pushing himself up until he was rubbing up against Dean nice and tight.
"Exactly." And damn, Sam had always known that Dean's better judgment vanished with the promise of sex, but really— this was fucking easy. He'd been all playful about it last night and only half-serious—until Dean had pushed his luck too far—but this… yeah. This was hitting a whole bunch of buttons Sam didn't even know he had.
So when he circle-thrust over Dean's groin and felt his chest tighten as Dean's head tipped back and his legs spread wider, that was nobody's fault. It was all just chemistry and circumstance. His hands floating down to push up Dean's shirt and sweeping back up over that flat stomach and across those hard little nipples as he leaned in to lick over the side of Dean's throat… that was an automatic response to the way Dean gripped the sides of his arms—not pulling him closer but not pushing him away.
And his hands stealing toward Dean's underwear, pulling it down even as he rubbed groin-to-groin over the hardness underneath it—that was all a big tease, just like him biting his way gently up Dean's jawline until he met Dean's barely-resisting mouth.
"Stubborn," he murmured against Dean's lips, unable to resist smiling because it was just so like Dean. Unable to say no, but he'd deny it was happening up to and right after coming all over both of them, Sam was sure of it.
The devilish impulse that made him slip his fingers down under Dean to brush up against that sensitive area, just to feel Dean jerk and gasp and give Sam the chance to tongue his way into Dean's mouth—that was still part of the game he'd played before.
Until Dean whimpered under him and softened his grip on Sam's arms as he stopped resisting and let Sam do whatever the hell he wanted.
A sharp rush of heat swept over Sam's back and his hand stuttered across Dean.
That Dean didn't quite know what to do at first with the fingers Sam put in his mouth, or that he yelped when Sam started to use them didn't matter.
Dean shaking under and around Sam as he spread Dean with those fingers and used the other hand to coax him through it was officially the hottest thing ever. Right up to the point where Sam slid on home and made it good for both of them, Dean breathing in ragged gasps against Sam's mouth and arching as Sam angled up again and again. Sam pushed Dean over with one well-placed twist of his hand, before following right behind him and sinking down blissfully into the misplaced softness of Dean's chest and neck.
He probably didn't even get to spend a whole minute there before Dean tried to push him off. "Dude, you're cuddling."
"Like you know nothing about that." Sam rolled to the side and leaned on his elbow, his mouth quirking up as Dean's gaze flicked over toward the outside door. Transparent, as they used to say in Sam's psych class. Fucked up and Dysfunctional applied to this situation pretty well too, so Sam quickly derailed off that train of thought.
Dean laced his hands behind his head, still not looking at Sam. "You did have a boyfriend in college, didn't you?"
"If getting drunk with someone once and having a really good time constitutes having a boyfriend, then sure, Dean," Sam said dryly.
Dean's head jerked in Sam's direction. "You never do stuff like that!" he said accusingly.
"That you know of," Sam shot back. Which wasn't admitting anything, but damn if it wasn't fun winding Dean up.
"So you let some guy do this to you then?"
"Not really getting the whole 'top' and 'bottom' concept, are you Dean?"
And apparently Dean wasn't, if you went by the confused look on his face then. How a guy could know so much about sex and still be so naïve was a complete miracle.
"You… you're too dorky to be a top!"
"Works for you, apparently," Sam said, swooping down to lick across Dean's stomach because Dean flailing like a girl would just never not be funny.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Sam leaned back again and watched embarrassment flow in a tide of red from Dean's face down through his chest.
Dean was quiet for a whole thirty seconds before bolting off to the shower again.
Breakfast was awkward, which might have had something to do with Sam nudging Dean's feet under the table and giving him those kinds of looks. "You're full already?" Sam teased, when Dean pushed his plate away mid-pancake. Maybe he stressed the word 'full' a little, and maybe not. In any case, Dean was too flustered to flirt with the pretty waitress when she came back with more coffee.
It didn't take long for Dean to get all cocky again once they left the diner, and Sam let it go for awhile. He even let Dean trash-talk him about Aerosmith versus John Mayer, and why acoustic guitars were just wrong.
But at the library, Sam decided he'd been patient enough when Dean made the mistake of calling him "Princess" over something so minor that he really shouldn't even have gone there.
He grinned over at Dean, slow and easy, and leaned in closer. "Right here, Dean?" he said. "It's kind of public, but all right."
He had never seen Dean be scandalized and intrigued at the same time, but damn if that wasn't a good look for him.
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