Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/763274.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Community:_spnkink_meme, Blowjobs, Frottage, Panty_Kink, face_fucking,
      Car_Sex, Exhibitionism, shaved_bare, Established_Relationship,
      Teenchesters, Preseries, Dean_(19)/Sam_(15)
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-16 Words: 3025
****** Exchanging Body Heat (in the Passenger Seat) ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Sam’s chicken scrawl is all over the paper and Dean figures it’s
     something Sam had written for school and forgot he put in his pocket,
     but a quick read-through has Dean breathing hard, fingers clenched
     tight around the paper in his hand. It’s a list. A very specific
     list. A very specific list that has Dean’s blood rushing south so
     fast his head spins.
Notes
     Written for this spnkink_meme prompt: Dean finds a list in Sam's
     stuff, fully aware that Sam most likely intended him to find it.
      
     # To suck Dean's cock in the Impala on the high school parking lot
     where everyone could catch us
     # To make Dean wear pink panties and fuck him in front of a mirror
     # To give each other handjobs under a blanket on the couch while
     Dad's in the room. Awake AND sober.
     # Having Dean fuck me in public. Truck stop? Theater? Back alley?
      
     Dean's so aroused he can't even finish reading it. Now he has to pick
     something from the list and make it happen.
Dean hates doing laundry. It’s not that there’s anything hard about it, but the
long stretches of time between each trip to the nearest laundromat means the
clothes sitting in their duffles are caked with sweat and blood and guts and
god knows what else, and the smell that wafts out when the zipper is pulled
open is almost enough to send Dean running to the bathroom.
Sam, the little shit, made up some excuse, threatened to cut Dean off for a
week if Dean wouldn’t do it for him, “please, I’ll do anything you want,”
complete with the fucking eyes from hell that always have Dean caving in half a
second or less, every time without fail.
It’s not like Dean really believed Sam would cut him off, anyway. Sam’s always
as eager for it as Dean is, and even between training and researching for dad
and Sam being in school, the longest they’ve ever managed to go without can be
counted using both hands, with fingers left to spare.
Dean upends the duffels onto the floor in front of the washing machines,
throwing jeans into one pile, shirts and boxers into another, and clothes
ruined beyond washing into the garbage.
There’s a poorly folded up piece of paper sticking out of the pair of jeans
sitting at the top of the pile, and the lack of blood and stains shows that
they’re Sam’s. Dean pockets the piece of paper and quickly gets the clothes
loaded into their machines, sitting on the counter next to the ones he’s using
when he’s done.
Dean looks around again to make sure he’s the only one in the laundromat before
he pulls the paper out of his pocket, unfolding it and smoothing it out across
his thigh. Sam’s chicken scrawl is all over the paper and Dean figures it’s
something Sam had written for school and forgot he put in his pocket, but a
quick read-through has Dean breathing hard, fingers clenched tight around the
paper in his hand.
It’s a list. A very specific list. A very specific list that has Dean’s blood
rushing south so fast his head spins.
-Suck Dean's cock in the Impala in the high school parking lot where anyone
could catch us
-Make Dean wear pink panties and fuck him in front of a mirror
-Give each other handjobs under a blanket on the couch while Dad's in the room.
Awake_AND_sober.
-Having Dean fuck me in public. Truck stop? Theater? Back alley?
The list goes on and on, almost every line on the page filled, but Dean has to
stop partway through it, heart beating frantically against his chest, dick so
hard it hurts.
Jesus, but who knew his Sammy was such an exhibitionist?
It’s all Dean can focus on when he’s moving the clothes into the dryers,
arousal thrumming hot and heavy through his veins.
It’s no coincidence Sam stuck him with laundry duty even though it was his
turn, the list left in his pocket like he knew Dean wouldn’t be able to resist
reading it. No, Sam’s much too smart for that. He wanted Dean to find it,
wanted Dean to know all the dirty, filthy things he wants them to do together,
but is still too shy to ask for when they’re face-to-face.
As much as Dean would have loved to see Sam’s face flush with embarrassment and
arousal asking for any one of those things, Dean almost likes it better this
way, a list he can commit to memory and check off as they’re fulfilled.
It also gives him time to think over how he wants to go about doing this, which
one he wants to give to Sammy more. He’d give them all to Sam at once if he
could, would give Sam the fucking moon if he asked for it.
Dean refolds the list and tucks it into his pocket, head filling with ideas as
he finishes the laundry.
He’s going to give his baby brother one hell of a surprise.
--
Dean doesn’t say anything about the list in the days that pass, doesn’t even
acknowledge that he found it. He keeps it tucked inside his wallet, folded into
a small square that slides in right behind his license.
It’s hard to pretend he doesn’t know anything about it, especially with the way
Sam’s face seems to be stuck in a permanent frown when he thinks Dean’s not
looking, tiny crease in his forehead that shows his disappointment.
Every time Dean catches it, he pulls Sam in or calls him over, settles Sam in
his lap with a hand on his waist and the other around the back of his neck,
kissing him until their lips are slick and swollen, buzzing pleasantly at the
prolonged pressure. He lets Sam rut against him through their jeans, Sam’s
forehead resting against his cheek as they move together, Dean rolling his hips
up every time Sam grinds down, dizzy with the way Sam’s moves go frantic the
closer he gets, hips snapping back and forth almost painfully as he rubs
himself against Dean. Sam keeps moving even after he comes, lips soft and wet
against Dean’s neck making them both shiver, until Dean throws his head back
and comes, a long exhalation of Sam’s name falling breathily from his lips.
It’s not what Sam wants, Dean knows, but he also knows Sam loves it when they
get each other off like that, something about how they both want it so bad they
can’t even stop long enough to get undressed that really just gets Sam going.
Yeah, Dean’ll admit it: it gets him pretty fucking hot, too, the way Sam still
fits perfectly in his lap, the way Sam moves without a second thought, shifting
and grinding until Dean’s leaking steadily in his boxers before he pulses out
shot after shot of come. There’s something so innocently dirty about it, having
his baby brother in his lap like that, getting them both off while they’re
fully dressed.
So, it’s not what Sam wants, not exactly what Dean wants now, either, but it’s
exactly enough to tide them over until Dean’s ready to tackle the first item he
picked from Sam’s list.
--
Dean spends what feels like hours in the bathroom getting ready while Sam’s at
school, and when he looks at his watch he realizes he needs to get moving if he
wants to get to Sam’s school before his lunch hour starts. He buttons his
jeans, forgoing the belt, and runs out to the Impala, quickly making his way
there.
Dean pulls into parking lot on the same side of the school as the cafeteria,
big windows showing students piling in as the lunch hour starts. He keeps a
close eye out for Sam and smiles to himself when he sees that Sam’s spotted
him, waving away the person he was talking to as he makes his way out.
Dean slouches down against the door, right leg resting comfortably on the seat,
his cock already fattening up inside his jeans.
Sam slides into the car with the familiar creak of the door, the way his eyes
roam up and down Dean touching him like a caress, warming him from head to toe.
Dean reaches over and pulls Sam toward him, moves around until he’s got Sam’s
head on his chest, his fingers tickling up and down the knobs of Sam’s spine.
“Whatcha doin’ here, Dean?” Sam asks, moving his hand to Dean’s chest, fingers
spread wide in the way that gives him the ability to brush his fingertips back
and forth over Dean’s nipple and brush his thumb over Dean’s ribs.
“Just wanted to see my baby brother,” Dean says teasingly, rucking up the back
of Sam’s shirt so he can get to skin, feel the heat and softness of it. He
doesn’t need to see Sam’s face to know Sam’s smiling.
Sam shifts slightly, pressure against Dean’s dick that has him hissing out a
breath, Sam’s lips pressing lightly to Dean’s chest.
It’s easy to tell by the way Sam’s moving that he knows what Dean’s really
doing there, and before Sam can slither down any further, Dean urges him up,
cradles the back of Sam’s head in his hand and kisses him, a featherlight touch
of lips to lips that Sam quickly turns into something harder, hungrier, tip of
his tongue sneaking out to touch Dean’s bottom lip.
Dean hums low in his throat, parts his lips and lets Sam in, reveling in the
slick softness of Sam’s tongue against his, the way Sam kisses with his whole
body, hands clenching and unclenching in the fabric of Dean’s shirt, hips
moving restlessly in search of friction.
Sam pulls back with a nip to Dean’s bottom lip, and when there’s enough space
between them, Dean licks over the bite mark, fighting down a smirk at the way
it makes Sam shiver and curse softly under his breath.
“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean says softly, hips lifting up off the seat, “I know you
want to.”
Sam sucks in his bottom lip, hair falling over his eyes as he touches the tip
of his nose to the center of Dean’s chest, lips burning hot through Dean’s
tshirt as he presses soft kisses down to the button of Dean’s jeans.
Dean’s heart is beating loud in his chest, breathing rough and ragged. His
stomach is tied in knots, arousal slithering hot and heavy through his veins,
and the way Sam’s looking up at him like he’s the best thing in the world
leaves little room for Dean to worry about what Sam’s reaction is going to be.
He doesn’t have to wait long, though, because Sam’s already got the button
popped open, tab of the zipper between the tips of his thumb and index finger,
sliding it down ‘til he can part the sides of the jeans.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice is low and breathy, eyes darting from Dean’s face to the
open space between his jeans, and Dean feels the first real bite of nerves
itching across his skin.
“Surprise,” Dean says, rough and gritty, lips quirked in a half-smile. He can
see the shakiness in Sam’s hand where it reaches out to touch him, like Sam’s
afraid that if there’s any real intent behind it, it’ll disappear.
Sam sucks in a breath, loud in the silence of the car, and traces the thin
waistband of the panties, eyes wide, pupils blown.
The small touch has Dean shivering, dick hard as a rock, skin sensitive with
the way the fabric moves over his newly bare skin.
It was another bulletpoint on Sam’s list, buried almost all the way down at the
bottom, the writing there small and hurried, barely legible: Have Dean shave
his pubic hair so I can give him hickeys there.
Dean was hesitant about that one, wasn’t quite sure he wanted to shave himself
bare like that, didn’t want something so sharp so close to his junk, didn’t
want to look like some prepubescent kid, but of all the things Sam had written
on the list, that was one of the only points that looked as though Sam was
ashamed or scared about admitting he wanted, even in writing.
In the face of it being for Sam, Dean didn’t hesitate much, though the entire
process was a huge pain in the ass. It was worth it, though, especially with
the look on Sam’s face now, the shock and wonder and amazement, and Dean has to
admit it feels pretty damn good, skin so sensitive where the lace of the
panties moves over him.
Then Sam’s lips and tongue are there, lips soft as his tongue darts out,
licking at the smooth skin through the material, and Dean can’t stop the buck
of his hips, the way Sam’s name falls from his lips, soft and breathy.
“God, Dean,” Sam says, reverent, moving his mouth to seal over the base of
Dean’s cock encased in the skimpy fabric, sucking until it’s soaked with saliva
before he starts mouthing at Dean’s balls, barely held inside the material.
“All for you, Sammy,” Dean says, wincing internally at the sappiness of it, but
Sam looks up at him with a soft, happy smile and Dean lets it go, lifts his
hips when Sam taps his thigh, giving Sam the room he needs to push both the
panties and jeans down his thighs.
Like a switch has been flipped, the hesitation seems to melt away from Sam and
he ducks down, folds himself comfortably into the seat, hand wrapped in a loose
fist around Dean’s dick. His lips and tongue are all over the freshly shaven
skin, kissing, licking, sucking, shock after shock of heat and lust zipping up
Dean’s spine, wet pulses of precome sliding down his dick.
Dean watches, transfixed at the way Sam loves this, the tiny moans he lets out
that buzz against Dean’s skin, the way his hips are thrusting against nothing,
like his entire being is narrowed down to and controlled by the lust he’s
feeling, and it makes Dean so fucking crazy with how hot it is.
Sam places a kiss to the sticky wet head of Dean’s dick, and Dean nearly chokes
on his next breath. Instead of the usual buildup, Sam surprises him and
swallows him down in the blink of an eye, lashes fluttering against his cheeks
as he holds Dean there, throat constricting around the head before he pulls
himself off, sucking in a breath before taking him back down again, tonguing
everywhere he can reach.
Sam’s so good at this, natural in a way that sometimes unnerves Dean, mouth and
tongue moving expertly around him, better than the few blowjobs Dean had
received before Sam.
“So good, Sammy,” Dean praises, brushing Sam’s bangs out of his eyes,
tentatively rolling his hips up into Sam’s mouth until Sam hums around him,
letting Dean know that it’s okay. Dean keeps it gentle, soft thrusts up into
Sam’s mouth until Sam growls around him, demanding in the only way he can that
Dean not treat him like he’s going to break.
Dean’s eyes roll back in his head when he thrusts in a little harder, the
tightness of Sam’s throat giving way as his cock slides in, wet, squelching
sounds that reverberate through the interior of the car as he fucks in and out.
“Love this so much, don’t you, Sammy?” Dean asks, voice low and raspy. “Love
that anyone could walk by and see you sucking me, letting me fuck your pretty
little mouth?”
Sam moans around him, the vibrations pulling Dean’s balls up tight, and Dean
has to make himself stop thrusting, the snap of his hips verging on hard and
brutal, not the way his Sammy should be treated.
There’s saliva dripping down his dick, cooling on his skin in a way that
ratchets up his arousal, so different from the feel of it soaking in his pubes.
Sam’s fingers keep trailing through it, the slow movements of his mouth and
tongue mimicking the patterns his fingers are tracing.
Dean’s barely maintaining his composure at this point, every swipe of Sam’s
tongue against the vein on the underside of his dick pushing him that much
closer to coming, his grip on Sam’s hair tightening until Sam shakes his head,
silently telling him that it hurts.
“Sorry, sorry,” Dean says, gently carding his fingers through Sam’s hair.
Sam’s acceptance of Dean’s apology seems to come in the form of Sam screwing
his mouth back down on Dean’s dick, lips sealed tight around the head as his
hand works quick and tight over the remaining length, tongue fucking in and out
of the slit until Dean throws his head back and comes, hot and wet over Sam’s
tongue.
“Oh god, Sammy,” Dean says, panting, pulling Sam up by the collar of his shirt,
licking greedily into Sam’s mouth. He licks away all traces of himself until
all that’s left is Sam, hands scrabbling at Sam’s jeans as he blindly undoes
them, letting Sam eat the moan from his mouth at the feel of how hot and hard
Sam is.
He barely gets in a handful of strokes before Sam’s coming, hot and sticky over
Dean’s softening dick. Sam shakes through it, breathing hard against the side
of Dean’s neck, little hiccupping breaths escaping as he calms.
Dean angles Sam’s head so he can kiss him again, soft brief pecks that say I
love you, and you’re amazing, and how the fuck did I get so lucky?
Sam’s lips are swollen and red when they finally separate, and Dean’s sure his
own are probably worse.
“Thank you,” Sam says softly, ducking his head shyly as he pulls Dean’s panties
and jeans back into place.
Dean shivers at the feel of the flimsy lace against Sam’s cooling come, his
dick ready to perk up for round two. “There’s more when you get home,” he says,
brushing off Sam’s thanks.
Sam buttons his jeans, groaning, causing Dean to chuckle. “Are you gonna keep
the panties on?” His voice is completely fucked, gritty and rough, and it has
Dean suppressing a shiver at how hot it sounds.
“Guess you’ll find out when you get home, won’t you?” Dean says, smirking.
“You really expect me to go back to school after that?” Sam asks, disbelieving.
“Yep. You gots lots to learn, Sammy,” Dean replies. “I’ll be back in a few
hours to pick you up.”
“Fine,” Sam says, pouting. He slides across the seat, hand poised to open the
door, and Dean pulls him back, kisses him hard one last time.
Dean watches Sam go, waving at him when Sam turns back. Fuck does he love his
little brother.
He starts the car when Sam’s safely inside the school, throwing it into gear
and maneuvering his way out of the parking lot. He’s got two and a half hours
before Sam finishes school for the day, and he points his car in the direction
opposite from where they’re staying.
He’s got a mirror to find.
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