Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, Sam and Dean don’t get a lot of time to themselves. With the lives that they lead, everything is always in motion. There’s no time for them to slow down, enjoy the lingering taste of their morning coffees on the back of their tongues, or the steam wafting off of their food. They have to live in the now, and focus on the future, never the time in between.

On Valentines day, the one day of the year where it’s time for couples to come together, to go on dates, or to spend time laying in bed together, making love under the moonlight, yada, yada, yada, Dean and Sam put their lives on hold from the time they wake up, to the time they go to sleep, and pretend that they don’t know about the monsters in the closet, or anything remotely supernatural in nature, and just be together.

Sam had been the first to ask what Dean wanted for the day, knowing that Dean would in true Dean fashion turn it around, and make it all about Sam. To Sam’s credit, he did try to give Dean a morning blowjob, and he got about halfway before Dean woke up and pushed Sam off of him, not yet aware of the world, or that they were safe in the bunker. Right after Dean realized that he wasn’t in any immediate danger, he apologized with a passionate kiss, moving down Sam’s body until he could take Sam into his mouth, sucking an orgasm out of him in less then three minutes.

Recovery time had been needed, and then between kisses, Dean interrogated Sam about what he wanted the most out of the day. Sam had felt like a sap admittting that all he needed was to be with Dean, and that nothing else mattered to him right then. Dean had wanted to say something snarky to that, but kept it down because Sam deserves to be a hopeless romantic on this day, without Dean mocking him .

Eventually, Sam told Dean that he wanted to find out what all the fuss was about regarding Dean’s oral skills, when it came to women. Sam had overheard in school the head cheerleader and some of the other girls gushing about Dean’s talented tongue, and what it did to them, how it made them feel, and that they couldn’t believe that they got off on just that alone, without any other stimulation whatsoever.

Dean had to think about it for a second, his first thought being that Sam wanted Dean to blow him again, which he had already done earlier, but Dean would be fine with that. Then Sam blushed like a virgin, and Dean got it.

During their… more than brotherly relationship, Dean has tossed Sam’s salad on occasion, but it’s usually when they don’t have any lube with them, and just sucking on his fingers for a few seconds isn’t enough to slick up Sam’s opening, as saliva dries rather quickly. Nevertheless, Dean never confessed to Sam that he actually would love to do it more often, as there’s something about the way Sam’s thighs quiver, spreading further without their consent, suffused by the pleasure of Dean’s tongue swiping over Sam’s hole with quick succession, sealing his pillowy lips over the sensitive opening and suctioning the small space with a tanacity that can only be acquired through years of over-eager eating.

This brings them to now.

Sam lays his head on his folded arms, sticking out his ass with a swivel of his hips, a red hue colouring his cheeks. It’s not that he hasn’t been in this position before–more that Dean can see everything, and everything is the focus of the event, and maybe Sam’s feeling a little self conscious, wondering if he smells bad or something else. He knows that assholes aren’t the most clean parts of the body, but he likes to think that he’s genreally polished inside and out.

“You look good enough to eat, Sammy,” Dean rumbles behind Sam, hands palming each of Sam’s ass-cheeks, spreading them with the pads of his thumb.

“Please don’t talk,” Sam requests, shuffling back a few paces.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Trust me, you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about,” Dean replies, and he sounds so… hungry, that Sam’s cock cries out another pearly tear, hole flexing with anticipation.

“Didn’t you ever hear somoene tell you not to talk with your mouth full, Dean?” Sam sasses Dean, growing more aroused and uncomfortable as the seconds tick by, with Dean just… staring at him.

Dean chuckles, and Sam feels the vibrations thrum over his eager opening. “My mouth’s not full, yet,” he clarifies, gently teasing the tip of his tongue just over the crease, satisfied with the hairs rising over Sam’s body.

Sam’s not sure how to feel when Dean gets stuck in. There’s a mixture of astonishment that clean-freak, OCD Dean Winchester is doing this to him, arousal far beyond the natural order of things, shock that he’s been on the verge of coming since five minutes went by into this thing, and annoyance that all those girls were right. They weren’t just lying about getting eaten out by the hottest guy in school. It was all true. Sam moans and shakes his head. This is not the time to think about those losers.

It feels like ten days, but it only lasts around fifteen minutes, and Sam’s hole flexes around Dean’s tongue, cock shooting jets of come onto the comforter, muscles going lax, as he flops onto the bed. Sam’s dick jerks of its own accord when he senses one of Dean’s hands parting his cheeks, the other sliding fast and slick over Dean’s cock, finishing himself off, and coming wet and hot on Sam’s hole.

Sam’s just thinking about Dean pushing it inside him, when he does, sliding his cock in a few times to fill up Sam’s inner walls with his come, Dean immediately sliding free once he feels as those he’s left his mark on Sam.

Stuck for what to do next, Sam’s about to suggest giving Dean that blowjob now, when he’s turned on to his front and lain out over Dean’s chest. Dean connects his hands around Sam’s back, pulling Sam tightly against his form, nosing Sam’s hair, and grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“What are you so damned happy about?” Sam questions, amused.

Dean grins smugly. “I’ve still got it, Sammy. I’ve still got it.”

Sam would laugh, but he doesn’t feel like it. He just wants to lie here, like this, and not think about anything at all… Just lay in Dean’s arms, unbeknownst to all the evil in the world.

Just blissfully unaware of how much shit they have to deal with when they wake up the next day.

Chapter Text

They’re at some witnesses house, going through the usual questioning, but Dean would really rather be doing something else. Valentine’s day is their day, and they’re stuck here hunting something that is probably child’s play compared to the things that they deal with on a regular basis.

Dean sighs, sliding his phone from his pocket and sending Sam a text.

Sam frowns when his phone buzzes, excusing himself to the witness to check if it’s actually anything important. He casts a look at Dean, who merely pretends to be very interested in the art work on the wall.

Roses are red, violets are blue, wrap this up quick, so we can screw.

Sam rolls his eyes, about to resituate his phone when it buzzes again.

Roses are red, violets are blue, you give good head, let’s meet in the loo.

He makes it halfway through when it comes to life again.

Roses are red, violets are blue, I’ve got blue balls, and they’re all for you.

Sam bites back a laugh, bubbling in his chest and demanding to allowed out. But he can’t be laughing right now, not when this lady has just lost her husband or whatever.

Roses are red, violets are blue, buy me some pie, and I’ll lick it off you.

“Uh, sorry. We really need to leave now, but if you remember anything else, please don’t hesitate to give us a call,” Sam explains, excusing the both of them, Dean offering his condolences on the way out.

“Dean, what the Hell, man? This is serious.”

“Roses are red, violets are blue, you love my junk, and it loves you, too,” Dean says in way of explanation, settling into the drivers seat and starting up the car.

Sam clears his throat, shrugging out of his suit jacket.

“Hey, Sam? Roses are red, violets are blue, eat, prey love, lick, suck, fuck you.”

“Uh…”

“Sammy, listen. Roses are red, violets are blue, you come untouched, when we’re doing the do,” Dean mutters with a smirk, pulling out on to the road.

“Very clever, Dean.”

“No, but, Sam. Roses are red, violets are blue, let’s make love, when you’re covered in goo.”

Sam rolls his eyes affectionately this time.

“Look, Sam. There’s something I need to tell you. Roses are red, violets are blue, I’ve got a stiffy, and it’s aching for you.”

Sam huffs, running his hand through his hair, and resisting the urge to just laugh out loud right now.

“Get this, Sam. Roses are red, violets are blue, show me your ass, and ’ll give you a clue,” Dean says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Sam snorts, turning to look out the window.

“Wait, Sam. All seriousness now. Roses are red, violets are blue, swallow my jizz, and I’ll swallow yours too.”

“You’re disgusting.”

"Roses are red, violets are blue, I love your ass, and it loves me, too.”

Sam coughs, trying to drown out Dean’s stupidity.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m really bored, so can I fuck you?”

“What are you, a poet?” Sam snaps, but there’s no heat to it. Dean is usually quick with his tongue, but not this quick.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, take me to church, and I’ll sin for you,” Dean says with a leer.

Snorting once more, Sam turns on the radio.

“Sammy, all jokes aside. I mean it this time. Roses are red, violets are blue, when I spread your legs, it’s like peek-a-boo.”

Sam’s eyes widen, and a laugh bubbles out of his throat, face stretching wide as the car fills with mirth, Sam’s eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, when your hole flutters, my dick stutters.”

“Ahaha… Dean… Shit, stop!”

“Roses are red, violets are blue, if I get a stony, will you ride my pony?”

Sam laughs and laughs until they reach their next stop, his stomach hurting from the pressure. When he finally calms down, he turns to Dean, looks him up and down, and grins. “You got'a ‘stony’?”

“Yeah. Now, ride my pony.”

Chapter Text

Sam’s not really sure how to feel right now. It’s Valentines day, and Sam is very used to just going about the day, not getting a single card, or an invite to a party, or anything, really. He’s just there. In the background. Not being noticed by anyone. And Sam’s fine with that. Sure, it sucked when he was younger, and gave more of a damn about that type of thing, but it didn’t take long for him to start considering this holiday in particular, water under a bridge.

So, anyone could imagine his immediate surprise when he’s asked out by a boy that he’s barely spoken two words to since he started here four weeks ago. It’s so unexpected, in fact, that Sam says yes.

“You what?” Dean interrogates, eyes ablaze with fury.

“I said yes…” Sam clarifies, pretending to scribble research notes into his little black book.

Dean slams his hand down on the desk, fury radiating off him in waves. “Then cancel.”

Sam tilts his head up, forcing himself to meet Dean’s eyes. “It’s just a date. Lunch and a movie, nothi–”

“I don’t give a fuck what it is, it’s not happening,” Dean growls, grabbing Sam’s waist and hauling him up out of the chair, bending him over the arm of the couch and yanking his jeans down, exposing Sam’s ass.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam protests weakly, embarrassingly turned on by this display of possessiveness.

Dean delivers a hard smack to Sam’s ass, tone steel as he responds, “You’re mine, Sam. Does that mean nothing to you? Obviously not, ‘cause you’ve got no problem accepting a date from some reject, who still probably plays with dolls,” Dean lists off between hard smack to Sam’s quickly reddening ass-cheeks, parting the flesh to thumb Sam’s twitching hole.

“Dean, I–”

“That’s enough out of you. I’m gonna show you just who you belong to Sam, and you’re not going on that fucking date, you understand me?” Dean states, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down past his ass to get his cock out, rubbing the tip over Sam’s hole, smearing it with pre-come.

“I understand,” Sam whimpers, clenching the material of the couch between his fingers as Dean’s first spit-slick digit breeches his hole.

“Good boy.”

Chapter Text

Dean’s got Sam down his throat, proud of himself for managing it. They’ve been together in this way for a little over a year now, but they haven’t gone passed oral. Which Dean has no problem with. Has expressed to Sam that he has no problem with it, and that they never have to take that step, if Sam’s not comfortable with it. It took a while for Dean to get into giving head, but once he found that it gets him all these fucked out looks from Sam, it quickly became one of his favourite things.

That’s when Sam decides to say. “I want to go all the way tonight.”

Granted, it’s breathy and a little hesitant, but it has Dean pulling off Sam’s dick in an instant, wiping the excess spit from his bottom lip with the back of his hand.

“Say what now?”

Sam bites his bottom lip, missing the contact of Dean’s lips, but needing something else. Sam supposes that Dean hadn’t realised that the whole time he was sucking Sam’s cock, his fingers were circling Sam’s rim, and lightly pressing against the crease, as if trying to coax it open.

“I know you said that you’re okay with just mutual blow jobs or whatever, but I kind of get the feeling that it’s just not enough anymore,” Sam confesses, sensing the room.

Dean frowns. “I already told you that we don’t have to have sex. I don’t mind. Seriously,” Dean reiterates, feeling guilty that he had been doing that, and hadn’t even realized. He didn’t even ask Sam if that was okay…

“Look, Dean… It’s been a year. I trust you… And I do want to… I just–”

“What, Sammy? What is it?” Dean asks softly, closing the space between them until they’re chest to chest.

“I just… I’m a little nervous. I mean, I’ve never done this before,” Sam admits with a sheepish grin.

Dean gives him a cursory nod. “Sure. That makes sense. You’ve been with girls. It’s a lot like that, I assume–”

“See, that’s the thing. I haven’t. Not with… Anyone,” Sam reveals, embarrassment crashing through him, swept aside by the unabashed delight dancing in Dean’s eyes at that statement.

“You mean… I’d be your first, and your last?” Dean asks, stomping down the sudden urge to jump up and down with his fists pumping the air like a huge dork.

“Well, yeah…”

“Sammy, baby… You don’t what that means to me,” Dean says, softly pressing their lips together.

“I want to face you,” Sam dictates as they break apart.

Dean ponders the implications of that before he gets it. “Ah, right… ‘Cause it’s supposed to be easier on your stomach the first time, right?”

Sam nods, opening his legs to Dean, leaning down and resting his head on the pillow. “I trust you, Dean.”

Sheepishly, Dean reaches into the draw and pulls out a tube of lube. At Sam’s inquisitive look, Dean supplies, “I, uh… Just in case you ever… It’s always good to be prepared, Sammy,” Dean says as way of explanation, unscrewing the lid and coating his fingers.

Dean places one of Sam’s legs on his right shoulder, spreading the other one out with the use of his left knee. He lines his fingers up with Sam’s pure hole, where nothing has ever entered. Dean swallows nervously. There’s no way he can fuck this up, because if he hurts Sam, then he’ll never forgive himself, even if Sam does.

“All right, I’m putting in the first finger, sweetheart. Just take a breath for me, okay?” Dean instructs, and Sam follows through with it. There’s a resistence as Dean pushes in, massaging the gate with the pad of his finger, nearly crying out in relief when it unfurls, granting Dean access. He’s passed the first obstacle.

Dean keeps his focus on Sam as he begins the preparation. The main thing that Dean is worried about is the fact that he’s really, really not average size… He’s actually really, really quite well endowed, in thickness and length. Dean certainly wouldn’t want his cock to be the first inside him, if he was in to that.

“I promise I’m gonna make it good for you, darlin’, all right? I’m not gonna lie to ya’. It might hurt, and if you’re not willing to sit through that part, then we’ll stop this right now–”

“No!” Sam snaps, sucking in another breath as Dean adds a second finger. It feels odd… Not awfully, but odd. “I’m not dumb. I know this isn’t natural. But I’ll get through it.”

Dean nods, applying more lube to his fingers, curling one over the other several times over, starting to feel the expantion of Sam’s cavity, allowing him further access, allowing Dean more room to play with. Dean concentrates on the sensations against his skin, seeking out the little bump that will make this easier for Sam.

After a lot of patience, Dean finds something out of the ordinary and bears down on it. Sam gasps, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“It’s okay, baby boy… It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Dean assures him, wrapping his free hand around Sam’s cock and leisurely pulling back the skin. “What does it feel like, Sammy?” Dean questions curiously, knowing that he must have hit the mark because there’s a hot flush breaking out on Sam’s skin.

“Why, are you writing a book?” Sam jests, breathing out a shallow breath, hips shifting of their own accord.

Dean smirks, applying more pressure. “Just making sure all that porn I watched wasn’t giving me false hope.”

“It, uh… The best way I can describe it is that I’ve been needing to piss for hours passed normal, and I’ve just found a bathroom,” Sam relays, arching into Dean’s explorations, light sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Dean nods, sensing the give of Sam’s entrance, relaxing in to the movement, readying itself for the next part. Dean swallows inaudibly–he can’t let on that he’s just as nervous as Sam is.

“You look beautiful right now, Sammy.”

Sam rumbles a laugh, huffing and rolling his eyes. “You think that’s all you need to say to a girl to get lucky?”

Dean clicks his tongue and extracts his fingers. “Well, it seems to work out quite well for me when they’re half passed drunk.”

“You dog,” Sam scolds, but there’s no heat to it, anticipation building in his stomach, as Dean makes another reach for the drawer. “What are you doing?”

“Wrapping my junk. Don’t wanna give you ass babies,” Dean jokes, about to pry open the drawer, when Sam’s hand grips his wrist.

“Wait. Dean, I haven’t had sex, sure… But I’m sure you haven’t got any… Deseases or whatever, and I–”

“You wanna go bare on the first go?” Dean interprets, retracting his arm. “You little slut.”

“Shut up, you ass. There’s just no point starting with condoms, when there’s no going back after this, you know?” Sam ventures an explanation, ignoring the heat congregating in his cheeks.

Dean licks his lips, eyes full of something untangeable. “If you want that, I’m perfectly okay with that. For real. Not got a single problem with it in fact,” he agrees, swooping down to place a brain-melding kiss on Sam’s lips, leaving them both breathless by the end of it.

“I do want that,” Sam relents, not looking at Dean as he says it, choosing instead to focus on the cracks in the wall.

“All right,” Dean concedes, slicking his cock with way more lube than he ever has. This is Sam, and he can’t afford to hurt him. He’s not stupid… Dean understands that it’s not gonna be nice in the beginning… He’s had hard shits before, and they’re definitely not things he looks forward to–

“You’re thinking too loud,” Sam injects, gripping Dean’s shoulders.

Shaking himself out of it, Dean presses the tip at Sam’s lube-slick hole, securing a hand on the curve of Sam’s hip. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. I promise, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam nods, starting the process of breathing in deep, and slowly releasing it, as Dean slides the girthy head of his cock into Sam’s hole. Sam groans at the stretch, eyes squeezing closed in pain. Sam feels like he’s being torn apart, his hole trying to seal shut, push out the intrusion of something completely foreign to him.

“Sammy, shush… It’s okay, beautiful… It’s all right. I’m sorry, okay? Please forgive me,” Dean mutters, voice tight, cock throbbing from the intensity of Sam’s cavity trying to reenact Teeth on him. He can’t be thinking about that, or this is never going to happen for them.

“It hurts Dean,” Sam manages through strained breaths, crying out with each inch penetrating his body, muscles trembling from the wrongness of it all, eyes welling up with tears–Sam’s so embarrassed right now, crying just because of pain… He’s faced way worse than this in his life, and he will not become some pathetic, snivelling prissy boy just because–

Dean swipes Sam’s tears away with the pads of his thumbs, heart in his throat due to the unquestionable pained look on Sam’s etheral face. Dean wants to just pull out, say that they tried, and never put Sam through this again, but a glint in Sam’s eyes tells him that Sam doens’t want that… That he wants Dean to keep going, and Dean’s smart enough to know that it’s going to be just as painful dragging out, as it was thrusting in.

“Just hold on, baby… I’ve got you,” Dean repeats, tone light and airy, breaths warm over Sam’s pulsepoint, as Dean finally bottoms out, their bodies connected to the fullest extent.

Sam’s not sure how long Dean stays like that, completely unmoving, just allowing Sam a chance to accomodate Dean’s girth, to shift and bloat until it feels almost… natural for Dean to be there.

“Are you okay, Sammy?” Dean questions a few minutes later, scritching his fingers through Sam’s hair, slowly jerking Sam’s cock with flicks of his wrist, while gently rolling his hips down into Sam.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m good…” Sam answers, biting his lip as Dean draws back an inch, and then presses in flush against Sam once more. “I can take more than that now, Dean.”

Dean lifts his head and kisses Sam gently on the forehead. “Just like this for your first time, Sam. When you can take it like the champ I know you are, then you can start setting the pace, okay?” Dean mutters, leaning down to draw one of Sam’s nipples into his mouth, laving over it with his tongue as he delicately pumps his hips.

“Fine… You’re such a mother hen,” Sam mocks him, digging his fingers into Dean’s back, as Dean does something that has Sam’s mouth hanging open.

“You’re the novice, and I’m the pro, for the first time in our lives, so listen to me for a change, you little shit,” Dean rumbles against Sam’s skin, pulling out that little bit further each time, letting Sam feel the whole drag of his cock with each movement.

“Okay, you’re right,” Sam says quickly, embarrassed by the constant twitching of his cock.

“Damn straight, sweetheart. Damn straight.”

Chapter Text

“Okay, this is just weird,” Sam says, eyeing another strip of the candy pants snapping off and entering Dean’s mouth, Dean making wet noises as he munches away on it.

“It tastes good,” Dean replies around a mouthful, squiring some cream into his mouth to wash it down with, eyes dazed and unaware of spindles hanging off the edge of his chin.

Sam rolls his eyes at the sight of it, wondering why Dean didn’t just get a pie and eat it off Sam’s ass like they did last year. Sure, it took far too long to get to the sex, but at least they had both been into it. Sam doesn’t see what the fuss is all about, really. This is just another excuse for Dean to stuff his face, with the guise that it’s for Sam’s viewing pleasure. Dean eating is hot, when he’s not talking around his food, but Sam’s just not really getting in to the whole erotic pants consumption.

“It looks stupid,” Sam mutters, dead-panning.

Dean shurgs. “You want me to wrap it round your dick and eat it off there?” he suggests, gripping another strip between his teeth and pulling back until it bumps his chin, as it tears from the sugar-coated underwear.

“I was thinking more about doing stuff with the cream before you eat it all,” Sam corrects, snatching it away from Dean’s reach and squirting some over his nipples. “That do anything for you?”

“Cream plus Sam equals happy Dean,” Dean answers, leaning up to lick the cream off Sam’s nubs, nibbling on the flesh as he goes about it. Dean takes the cream back and squeezes it into his open mouth, keeping it gaped wide and bringing his face closer and closer to Sam’s.

“Oh, my God, do you want me to lick it out of your mouth like a baby bird?” Sam snorts, about to move away, when Dean sits butt-naked on his stomach, chasing Sam’s face with his open mouth.

Eventually, Sam relents, when he realizes that Dean isn’t going to give up, holding Dean’s face with both hands as he kitten licks the cream out, ignoring the vibration of Dean’s throat, singallng a  throaty laugh that lacks the foundation to come across that way.

When its all gone, they both lick their lips. “That was weird,” Sam states, shoving Dean on his back and pouring cream onto Dean’s throbbing cock, immediately taking it down his throat, sliding his lips back off so tantalizingly slow that Dean calls him a teasing asshole by the end of it.

“Oh, it’s on, Sammy,” Dean declares, rolling them over. He bends Sam’s legs back until his knees touch his shoulders, and squirts more cream onto Sam’s twitching hole, sealing his mouth over it and sucking it down his throat, eyes closed with relief.

Sam moans, head hitting the floor, but wanting to see what Dean is doing, the starting of Dean’s tongue breeching his hole making it harder and harder for Sam to gain control of his muscle-functions, limbs going slack, as Dean licks into him.

“This ain’t the only cream that your ass is getting tonight, Sammy.”

Chapter Text

Jensen gently lowers Jared onto the bed, straightening his legs, and propping his head on the pillow, worry lines creasing his eyes, as he examines the wounds on his co-stars face.

“I can’t believe you took out all those guys, Jensen… Wow… You’re my hero,” Jared mumbles, dazed after the beating that he endured, images flashing in his mind of Jensen’s face so angry and protective, as he delivered punch and kick after punch and kick to those assholes at the bar. Jared doesn’t like to think what could have happened if Jensen hadn’t come back to rescue him. Sure, Jared is a big guy, but four against one rarely ever works out well for the one.

“Yeah, I’m your hero,” Jensen jokes, grabbing a wet cloth from the kitchen to work on wiping off the dried blood from Jared’s skin, stomping down the urge to go find those rejects, and fiinish what he staretd.

Jared shifts back, reaching out and secruing Jensen’s hand. “No, I mean it. You saved me, Jensen. You’re a good friend.”

Jensen hides a pained look. That work “friend” cutting him deeper than any blade could ever cut Dean. It’s just another reminder that his feelings are never going to be reciproated, that he’ll go on pretending to just be Jared’s best friend for the rest of his life, and never anything more.

“What’s wrong, Jensen? I’m okay. Look at me, I’m not bleeding to death. Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Jared reasons, not wanting Jesnen to feel guilty about something that he could do nothing to change it now.

“You need some pain meds. Hang on, I think I’ve got some in my room,” Jensen says, missing the contact of Jared’s hand as soon as he pulls out of the grip, about to head across the hall to his own room.

“Wait, don’t leave,” Jared protests, securing Jensen’s hand once again, breath wooshing out of him as Jensen loses his balance, falling on top of Jared’s lucid form. When Jensen immediately makes a move to extract himself, Jared curls his limbs around him, spreading his legs to let Jensen between them. “Stay like this with me?”

Jensen swallows the lump in his throat, traitourous cock springing to life in his jeans, as it brushes Jared’s thigh through the material. He has to get away now before Jared notices anything is amiss.

“Please, Jensen… I don’t wanna be alone right now,” Jared adds, pulling Jensen closer to his body, allowing himself this one chance to feel Jensen pressed tight against him, between Jared’s legs like he is every night in Jared’s dreams.

Thinking that Jared is just dazed and confused, Jensen goes along with it, nodding his head, stroking his fingers over the long stetch of Jared’s neck, using his training to relax him, having pursued a massage course before he entered the world of acting.

“That feels really nice,” Jared admits, body submitting willingly to Jensen’s ministrations.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, Jared. I thought you were behind me,” Jensen confesses, feeling like the lowest of the low, wondering if Jared will never want to speak to him again when he wakes up in the morning.

“You came back. That’s what matters,” Jared assures him, growing uncomfortable in his jeans. He’s slightly out of it, but not enough to realze that Jensen’s close-body contact is having a major affect on him.

“You want soup? I’m gonna make you soup,” Jensen declares, not giving Jared a chance to tighten his hold, as he slinks away, heading to the small kitchenette, and reaching in to the cupboards for a can of soup. It’s not going to be enough to satiate Jared’s ginourmous hunger, but the warmth from the broth should do something to put Jared in a temporary lucid state.

“I don’t want soup. I want my hero, Jensen,” Jared whines, attempting to get up. Jensen notices instantly, sending Jared a look that has him going still again. It’s that look that says if you get up, I will put you back down again until it sinks in to your head that that’s what’s happening here.

“Well, your hero is going to make ya’ some soup,” Jensen counters, heating up the stove and grabbing a pot from the lower cupboard.

When the soup is ready, Jensen brings it over to Jared, and feeds him spoonful after spoonful without really thinking about it. Jared doesn’t seem to mind, grinning up at him as he accepts the sauce into his open mouth, clenching his lips around the spoon.

Jensen has trouble concentrating a few times, with how Jared is somehow making this look rather erotic.

“What are you so happy about?” Jensen asks, feeding Jared the last mouthful.

“I’ve got the two things in my life that I love the most rght here with me. Food and you,” Jared admits, a hiccup in his throat that states that maybe he wasn’t supposed to say that, but he also doens’t really regret it.

“You too, man,” Jensen replies, thinking it’s just Jared showing affection. He says that he loves the fans all the time, so that must be what he means in this situation.

“No, not like that…” Jared backtracks, taking the bowl from Jensen’s hand and placing it on the side,  pulling Jensen over him again. “Like this.”

Chapter Text

Jared could sit around like a nobody on Valentine’s day, just waiting for his boyfriend to get home, and for the fun to really start, or he could actually do something about it. It’s not fair that Jensen has to work on this day, anyway. Yes, they had some pretty hot, steamy sex the night before, due to this fact that they would not be able to spend the day together, but that’s not really enough for Jared. Not in that way that he has to get everything that he wants, but more in that way that he wants to be able to spend this day with the man that he loves, and not sit around doing jack shit, while Jensen is busting his ass, drilling holes through his watch because the dumb arrows are just not moving fast enough.

All of that aside for now, Jared actually has an idea. A surprise for Jensen, that may or may not blow up in his face. It’s not something that they’ve ventured in before. But it’s something that Jared is sure that Jensen enjoys, as he lingers in the lingerie section, when they pick up something new from the sex shop. So, Jared is about forty percent confident that this is going to work out for him, and he might finally have sex with Jensen in his office.

Which has sort of been a fantasy of Jared’s for a long time. More like, since they met. Okay, so maybe he would like to show those girls in the office that have the hots for his boyfriend that there’s only one ass that belongs to Jensen, and it’s his. Jared’s not really the jealous type. Never has been, and probably never will be. But there’s nothing wrong with solidifying the fact that he and Jensen are it for each other, and no one else stands a chance.

It could have something to do with Jensen being the most beautiful human being to have ever graced the earth with his presence, but that’s neither here, nor there.

Jared checks himself in the mirror one last time, pinching the sealed material at the edge, and pulling it just above his waistband, just to make sure that he’s happy with it. Satisfied, he pings it back in to place, grabs his car keys, and heads out of the house.

It’s not a long drive to Jensen’s office, but the anticipation for what’s to come is building with each sign that Jared passes, leading him closer to his goal.

When they first met, Jensen had been a challenge. He has this reserved attitude, and some people can be put off by that. Jared had been on a night out with his friends, drinking the night away. He remembers feeling eyes on him, and turning his head to get a look at whoever it could be, and then almost losing his jaw when Jensen’s ridiculously-out-of-this-world-unhuman-not-even-a-little-bit-average-perfect-stunningly-handsome-face came into view. Jensen hadn’t backed down, not even for one second, so Jared felt like it was his right to go over there and talk to him.

Initial greetings went fine, but pulling out Jensen’s true personality took a lot of effort, though it had been completely worth it.

Jared pauses in his nostalgia, as he parks his car, shutting off the engine. He steps out of the car, twenty-two with legs that go on for miles, off to surprise his thirty-seven year old boyfriend in his office. Okay, so they haven’t been seeing each other that long, but everything has been going well—and maybe Jared had been twenty when they met, using a fake ID to get in to bars, but he was up front about that, when Jensen coaxed his age out of him before they went any further.

Shrugging that memory off, Jared enters the building, not bothering to schedule himself in, as Jensen told him that he can come up to his office anytime, unless his door is locked, which means he’s in a private meeting, or on the phone with someone important. Jared’s heart sings when he recalls that one time Jensen called him from his office, and one of his employees rapt on the door… Jensen shouted out “Can’t you see my door is locked?” which made Jared feel sospecial that he had to hold back tears.

As Jared steps in to the elevator, nerves take over. What if Jensen doesn’t like his present? He could have been interested in the lingerie because he likes both men and women, has slept with a number of men and women, and has a long string of one night stands. Jared shakes his head. This isn’t the time to doubt himself. If Jensen doesn’t like it, they can at least say that they tried. What’s the worst that could happen, really?

The elevator chimes, signalling to Jared that it’s time to get out. He immediately power-walks to Jensen’s office, heart in his throat when he sees Jensen working on accounts, glasses perched on his nose, and looking more sinful than should be allowed. Jensen only wears them at work—contacts every other time because he says that they look dumb on him, even though Jared has grown hard in his jeans many a time in those moments where Jensen forgets to take them off.

Jared contemplates alerting Jensen of his presence, clocking his hand to tap on the door, when he decides against it. Instead, he saunters into the room, and kicks the door shut behind him, snagging the strip of pink hiding behind his jeans just before the click settles through the air, and pulls it out on display for Jensen to see, attempting a modelling pose.

Jensen looks up at the clarity of his office door slamming shut, face lighting up with glee when he sees Jared, and then his throat visibly goes dry as soon as his eyes catch on to what Jared is concealing from it.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Mr. Ackles,” Jared says, trying to sound seductive, but kind of faltering from the look Jensen is giving him.

He’s about to apologise for barging in, maybe ask if Jensen wanted to go for a cup of coffee for his break. Jensen doesn’t give him the chance to do that, chair scraping along the floor, as Jensen strides over to Jared, un-zip-buttoning his jeans, and getting his hands on the hidden material.

Jensen’s breathing is heavy and heated against Jared’s temple, sending arousal crashing through Jared’s system, mesmerized by the back and forth of Jensen’s thumbs over the soft material.

“Do you know what happens when people barge in to my office, Jared? Looking like you, and with those…” Jensen trails off, voice thick and husky with promise, as he slams Jared’s back against his door, pausing to suck a bite mark into Jared’s neck.

“I take it you like your Valentine’s?” Jared gets out through baited breaths, cock stretching out the panties obscenely. Jensen’s fingers lightly brushing over it isn’t helping whatsoever.

“Like it? Let me show you just how much I like it,” Jensen proposes, dropping to his knees. He spots the pre-come soaking the lace, sealing his lips over it. He sucks it out through the small spaces, eyes locked on Jared’s the whole time, watching his boyfriend come apart at the seams, lips bitten raw by the time Jensen’s replaced the wet patch with his own.

Jensen mouths along Jared’s clothed-length, pleasant sounds protruding from his throat. “Your pussy is all wet for me, baby,” he purrs, cupping Jared’s round ass with his hands, squeezing and rolling the flesh, exposing Jared’s quivering hole to the humid air.

Jared’s skin heats at the dirty talk, amazed that Jensen can make him feel like a novice, and not to mention—a blushing school girl, when he’s on his knees, licking away at Jared’s cock-head through the panties.

Jensen smirks at Jared, and then within the space of a few seconds, Jared is bent over one of Jensen’s propped up knees, receiving a thorough spanking, that has him gasping out each time Jensen’s hand makes contact with his behind.

“Bad girls get punished, Jared,” Jensen states, pulling back the lace to spot the quickly blooming skin, fascinated by the blood rising due to the torment. “Bad girls who nearly give their man a heart attack get punished, I should say,” he corrects himself, spanking Jared’s hole with two of his fingers, sensing another pearl of pre-come soaking into his expensive slacks, and not even caring a little bit.

Jared cries out at the quick insertion of Jensen’s fingers into his body, tugging on the rim as they backtrack out.

“You thought you could just mosey on in here wearing those, and not get punished for being a huge tease, baby? Nah, it don’t work like that here,” Jensen croons, delivering a one, two to Jared’s blood-red ass, enjoying the bitten off moans that it rewards him.

“I knew you were a pervert,” Jared manages quickly, biting his lip as Jensen’s reply is a smack with enough force to have Jared’s skin vibrating.

“We’re gonna have fun tonight, sweetheart. As soon as you come from just this, then the real stuff is going down, understand?” Jensen relays, pummelling Jared’s ass with his hand, using his other to thrust two digits in and out of Jared’s hole, slick with Jared’s own pre-come. Jensen can feel himself about to burst through his clothes, but he’s more interested in watching Jared’s glorious ass bounce in those panties, and the dampness soaking into his slacks with each connection of his hand to Jared’s ass.

Jared’s not really sure how to respond to that. He’s never came from just being spanked before, although he does get off on it an awful lot…

And then he does after five successful blows, and Jensen is so smug about it, but Jared’s just happy that he’s happy.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Dean feels like he’s living in a world without sunlight every time he sees Sam like this. He wants to hurt whoever hurt Sam, but it was probably some girl, and Dean finds it hard to raise his hands to a woman, regardless of what they have done. Some ugly son of a bitch female lookalike, sure. But not an actual, human woman. For one, it’s just not Dean’s style.

There has to be something that he can do, though. Dean supposes that getting the truth out of Sam might actually go a long way in figuring out how to bring him out of this rut.

The world doesn’t flow right without the sun shining in the sky, after all.

“Hey, Sammy, what’s eaten ya’?” Dean asks, spinning one of the chairs 180degrees, and settling onto it, arms crossed over the head.

Sam shrugs, not looking up at Dean.

“Shouldn’t you be out on a date?” Dean tries, hating the fact that he feels helpless right now. This isn’t exactly his forte, after all…

“Shouldn’t you?” Sam snaps, glaring at Dean. It’s bittersweet, but at least Dean got something out of Sam.

“Already done with mine, Sam. But, we’re talking about you here,” Dean supplies, nudging Sam’s knee with the tip of his boot.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Sam says, grumpy and miserable. It’s taking everything that Dean has not to headhunt this bitch.

“Well, you’re gonna. Then I’m gonna take you for a ride in Baby, and see where that leads us, okay?” Dean counters, no room for argument. He jingles his car keys for effect, accepting the need to cradles Sam’s head between his palms, tilting Sam’s head up and silently demanding that he look at him.

“It was just some girl. I’ll get over it,” Sam mutters, trying to play off that he’s cool and nothing is wrong, but Dean’s not buying it for one second.

“She stand you up?” Dean assumes, unconsciously smoothing his thumb over Sam’s cheek, gently massaging the skin.

Sam nods in way of an answer, eyes lowering in shame that he doesn’t possess the same success rate with girls as Dean does. Dean stomps down the flare of anger in his stomach, choosing instead to pat Sam’s cheeks twice, before letting go.

“Grab your coat, and meet me in the car,” Dean instructs, not waiting for Sam to say yes. He has a feeling that Sam doesn’t want to be alone right now, and he’s sure that Sam will choose Dean over books and math problems—well, he hopes so.

Sam does in fact choose to come with him. Dean makes a quick stop at a gas station, buying a few beers. He loads them in the back seat, wordlessly handing one over to Sam, cap unscrewed, before he guns the engine again. He catches Sam staring at him like he grew a second head out of the corner of his eye, but he ignores it. He drank his first beer way before he was seventeen, and it wouldn’t be fair for him to deprive Sam of that. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of teenage rebellion.

They’re quiet as Dean drives, Metallica filtering through the car. Dean is amazed that Sam hasn’t complained about the music yet, so he has to do something good soon to draw Sam out of this state he finds himself in. Right now, Sam should be listing why this sort of stuff makes no sense, that it’s just angry and resentful, and is just loud sounds which Dean would have promptly brushed off.

Dean turns when he sees a sign for miniature golf. It’s been a while since they’ve played, but he recalls Sam liking this when he was eight years old, so why the Hell not? Practically anything normal that they can do together always has a positive effect on Sam, so hopefully this will blow over well.

Sam says nothing as Dean pays for a set of two putters, handing one to Sam, who takes it with a sceptical look on his face. At the first hole, Dean pretends that he sucks, so that Sam can win, and continues on that way until Sam snaps at him that he doesn’t need to be babied or whatever. In the end, Dean ends up winning, and Sam surprisingly is fairing a little better by the end of it, considering Dean stopped acting like an amateur, and gave Sam a real game.

Dean gets Sam ice-cream next, which he frowns at as if to say “I’m not a little kid anymore, stop treating me like one”, but still eats the whole thing, face lighting up between bites, which Dean finds himself enjoying more than the ice-cream.

Next, Dean takes Sam to laser tag, and ignores the lady at the registration desk asking him how long he and Sam have been together. It turns out that it’s couple’s night only, so he curls his arm around Sam’s shoulder’s, and caresses his face to give off the impression that they are together, but just aren’t quite there yet.

Dean’s happy to see that all of Sam’s gun training has paid off really well, the two of them taking down the other team practically by themselves, Sam grinning widely when they take out the last person together, high-fiving like a pair of dorks when it’s announced that “Red team wins!”.

They ditch the badges that they got in the trash as soon as they leave, laughing with each other as they head back to the car.

Sam’s a little more responsive now, suggesting that they go to that field that they passed on the way here, so they can drink a beer on the hood and watch the stars.

Dean’s not too keen on anyone potentially spilling beer on his Baby, but Sam’s sunbeam smile melts his resolve, and he finds himself sat on the hood, Sam—for some reason—sat with his back to Dean’s chest, sipping away at their beers and admiring the mixture of colours in the sky, starting to darken in contrast as the dials tick away on Dean’s watch.

At some point, Sam decides to get a little more cosy, a warm buzz in his system, as he enjoys his first experience of being tipsy, and settles his head just underneath Dean’s chin, curling one of Dean’s arms around him, feeling safe and loved.

“Thanks, De. I feel a lot better,” Sam admits, staring up at Dean, who looks like he just tasted the best pie of his life to date.

“No problem, Sammy. Any time,” Dean replies, and all is right with the world again, because Sam is smiling.

It might be getting dark, but the sun hasn’t retreated behind the clouds just yet. It’s got it’s back to Dean’s chest, and it’s even more beautiful than he remembered.