Chapter Text
Author's notes: Here, Sam and Dean are not related. Bobby is Sam's father and Dean is John's. Beta'd by stacyleanne.
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Friday nights were the busiest at the “Roadhouse”, every customer waiting to drink their long week away in their choice of beverage, talking to their co-workers about nothing and everything, just having a good time before they hit the weekend to recover.
Sam was buried in orders coming in from one end to the other, he was surprised he could get the right drinks to the right customers. His father was also working the bar on his right, an old pro in the business. Since Sam’s mother Evelyn died when giving birth to him, his father had raised him on his own and Sam couldn’t be more grateful. He’d never say it out loud but Bobby Singer was the best dad in the world.
Sam was lost in his thoughts of gratitude towards his father until he was smacked by the man in question on the head. “Sam! What the hell are you staring at? Get serving.” He pouted a little at his father while his right hand gently rubbed where he had been hit with more force then necessary. “Don’t you give me that hurt puppy look Samuel Singer, you were procrastinating. You got work to do, so get going!” his father sternly told him.
It was hectic to say the least but Sam loved the vibrant atmosphere of the bar, warm and inviting, people laughing and joking, everyone happily buzzed. He loved to talk to customers when he had the chance, asking how their day was, what they were up to on the weekend. There were regulars too so some of them Sam knew by their first name.
Everything passed in a blur for him as the night progressed, constantly occupied with serving, wiping down the counter and waiting on occasion when one of the waitresses took their breaks.
However, throughout the entire night, he couldn’t shake this feeling of being watched. But every time he turned to where he thought the intense gaze he had came from, he found nothing but a crowd of people lost in their own drinks and company. He shook his head and let it go. Sam convinced himself it must be due to the late nights he’d been working at the bar for the last week.
When closing time came at midnight, Sam was leaning heavily against the counter, too tired to stand up straight. His father had locked the entrance and was now wiping down the tables and lifting the stools up as he went, quickly moving systematically from one table to the next. Bobby made his way to his son, when he finished wiping down the last table.
Sam was now resting his head on his crossed forearms on the counter, ready to sleep. “You tired, kiddo?” his father gently spoke, while affectionately ruffling his hair, smiling when he heard Sam grunt in response.
“I need you to get whatever bottles we’re out on out here from the storage and replace them with full ones before you call it a night.” Sam shifted his head under his father’s hand and lifted himself up. Stretching both his arms above his head as far as possible and popping his back, Sam nodded sleepily. “Sure, I’ll do the rest, you go on home, you’re not as young as you use to be.”
His father made a mock shocked face, “I can still beat you anyday kiddo, in strength and stamina."
Sam snort - chuckled, “Says the man who nearly broke his back, lifting a crate of beer bottles."
His father took a playful swipe at his head but Sam ducked and quickly made his way to the back storage room. He heard his father shout out,“Just for that, you’re coming in first thing in the morning and mopping the floor!"
“I hear you old man! Now go on home before I have to carry you there!" Sam shouted back and opened the door to the storage room.
He was so absorbed in rummaging through the stock for Jose Cuervo that he didn’t hear the door behind him gently opening to let a lone figure enter into the room. Sam only became aware of the other person’s presence when he heard the soft click of the storage door being locked.
When he looked up, there stood with his back against the door, one of the most gorgeous man Sam had ever laid eyes on. He was few inches shorter than him but then everyone was shorter than his unnaturally tall frame. But to compensate, he had a very strong build from what he could tell. He had short dark blond hair, roughly styled that gave the “I just woke up” look, sharp angular face with full luscious lips that he wouldn't mind sucking on. Light freckles scattered across his face but the man's piercing emerald green eyes was the most captivating feature of all. He was giving Sam a lazy lopsided grin that had him melting a little inside.
He straightened up and smiled at the stranger.“What can I do for you? The bar is already closed so I can’t serve you any drinks.”
The handsome stranger moved forward, getting closer to Sam step by step, he smirked.“I’m not here for a drink."
Sam naturally stepped back as the stranger drew closer with each step. “Oh? Then what do you want?”
Since the room itself was small and compact, the stranger was now standing merely few inches from him as Sam’s back hit the concrete wall. The man leaned in close, their noses almost touching and whispered huskily, "You."
Sam could feel his own body thrumming with excitement, adrenaline pumping through his veins, his heart beating a mile a minute. This close, he could smell the man’s cheap cologne mixed with the scent of soap and leather from his jacket, making Sam heady and dangerously high.
He looked down at the shorter man and defiantly stated “I don’t fuck with strangers.” Sam then moved his hands to push the man away to get out of the storage room but he was roughly slammed back against the wall, both his wrists pinned to either side of his head by two strong calloused hands.
The stranger drew close, his lips hovering just above Sam’s soft pink lips. “Nice try kid, you’re not goin' anywhere. I’ve been watching you all night tonight and I ain’t gonna let go that easy.”
Sam realised that the man standing in front of him was the culprit behind the gaze that had stalked him throughout the entire night. Without warning, the stranger leaned forward and claimed Sam’s lips in an aggressive kiss. There was no finesse, just plundering and taking as he forced Sam's lips to open wide. The stranger roughly pushed his thigh in between his legs and grinded it hard against his crotch.
Obviously Sam gasped in shock and that was all the chance the stranger needed to dive in deeper, stroking every surface he’s eager tongue could reach.
Sam fought to break the man’s hold on his wrists but it wouldn't budge. The stranger was smaller than him but he was built like a machine. Sam could feel the hard plains of the man’s stomach and his chiseled chest as he grinded not only his thigh now but his entire body against Sam. The stranger was in top physique and even though Sam was toned and lean himself, he was no match in strength to this guy.
When the stranger finally released Sam’s lips and moved to maul his neck, Sam flinched from the sharp bites and unconsciously tilted his neck for the stranger to give better access. “I ...I told you, I don’t fuck strangers.” Sam breathed out the words, already out of breath just from being rutted against and kissed.
The stranger stopped his onslaught on Sam’s neck for a brief moment and spoke into his abused skin, “I’m Dean, you ?”
Sam was confused by the sudden and frankly out of place introduction but he replied just to amuse his attacker: “Sam.”
Dean then looked up to Sam, his eyes feral and wild with his lips curving into a devious grin. “Now that we’re not strangers, can we fuck?”
Before Sam could string two words to reply that question, the man released Sam’s wrists, now red and tender from his grip, and used those very hands to rip Sam’s favorite blue botton up shirt open. The sounds of the broken buttons hitting the concrete floor echoed in the silent room.
Using Sam’s surprised state to his advantage, Dean flipped him to face the wall, pulling down the mangled material to tie Sam’s hand behind his back. The bartender shivered from the initial contact as his chest hit the cold concrete wall. Turning his head to the side, he tried to push away from the wall but with his arms bound, he didn't have the leverage to do so. All he could do was arch his back to accommodate the awkward position of not having anything but his body to support him against the wall.
Sam could feel Dean kissing the skin between his shoulder blades and gradually moving up to Sam’s left shoulder then to his neck, sucking on the throbbing pulse. When he moved to his ear, he dipped the tip of his tongue inside, repedatedly licking and biting the flesh there until Sam was shaking.
“Damn, Sam, I wanna fuck you against this wall, would you like that? Me taking your sweet little ass, licking it open and fucking you hard?” Dean’s heated breath ghosted over his spit slick ear. Sam's dick twitched in excitement just from hearing the dark promise of things to come.
Sam craned his head a little to Dean’s direction and locked his lust dazed eyes with dark black ones, hunger and want evident in both their eyes. Sam coyly smiled. “You’re all talk but I’m not seeing any action here.”
Dean growled like a caged animal waiting to be released and leaned in close, giving Sam’s cheek a one long lick with his tongue. “Watch me, bitch. ” Sam couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his traitorous lips as one of Dean’s hands gripped his now half hard erection tightly while the other hand undid his belt and jeans.
In no time, Sam was butt naked with his jeans and underwear pooled around one of his ankles while the other was released from its confines to spread his legs wider. Dean had now moved down to his ass, spreading his two firm globes apart to reveal Sam’s most private place, his pink puckered hole. Dean dove right in, his tactile tongue licking and probing into Sam’s hole. Once in a while Dean would place his mouth on his hole and suck like a Hoover, leaving the bartender weak and trembling. Combine that with Dean’s gentle strokes of Sam’s now almost full erection between his legs, had Sam quickly losing himself in ecstasy, moaning louder for more.
He jumped when he felt Dean’s finger enter his now very well drenched hole alongside the probing tongue. The single digit was going deeper then a tongue was physically capable of doing, opening Sam wider than before. Soon, two other fingers joined and Sam was being thoroughly finger fucked, the knowing fingers scissoring his hole in search of that special place.
Dean smiled when Sam jolted and clenched down his muscles tightly against his fingers, letting him know that he had found his prostate. Dean rubbed the bundle of nerves again and again, with each stroke, Sam’s whining becoming higher and higher. Shamelessly, he tilted his ass out more to swallow down the fingers and that was a sight that had Dean’s hips moving forward.
He needed to fuck Sam. Now.
Satisfied that Sam’s hole was loose and wet enough to take his cock, Dean stood up and took off his suffocatingly thick leather jacket. Taking out a condom and lube from the back pockets of his jeans, he quickly prepared himself. He shoved down his underwear and jeans just enough for his cock to spring free then rolled down the condom, followed by a liberal amount of lube.
Dean’s already granite hard cock jumped when he saw Sam in his entirety. He was leaning heavily against the wall, his face turned to his side with disheveled hair hiding his eyes. But he could see the plump lips, red from biting. His golden sun-kissed skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and flushed into a dark shade of pink. His ass was still tilted outwards, all modesty gone. The red puckered hole glistened with saliva and Dean could see the tiny ring of muscles flexing, ready to take whatever he offered. Sam truly was a portrait of pure sin and debauchery.
Wasting no time, Dean moulded himself to the bartender's back and slid his left hand to the man's lower abdomen and guided him backwards to his own cock until the crown was nudging at Sam’s entrance. He tongued Sam’s ear and whispered low, “You ready for this?”
Sam had no chance to answer as Dean surged forward, forcing himself inside in one swift motion, not stopping till he was buried deep to the hilt. Sam’s mouth opened in a voiceless scream, his neck arching back beautifully.
Dean didn’t wait for the bartender to adjust to his thick long cock, he started to move immediately, his hips drove into Sam fast and hard at a furious pace. The slap slap sound of skin on skin and the ragged breathes of both men filled the room. With Sam’s hand tied at the back, it was impossible for Dean to get close to the other man like he wanted to.
With a frustrated growl, he undid Sam’s wrists which automatically went to brace themselves against the wall as Dean wrapped himself tightly around Sam and snapped his hips harder, brutally opening Sam’s tight hole with his pulsing cock.
All Sam could do as Dean continued to pound inside of him was to take everything he gave, keening every time Dean hit his prostate with a fierce thrust. He felt a dull pain as Dean bit into his neck, his sharp canines sinking into the flesh. Dean’s calloused hands moved up and down Sam’s sides and front caressing his already over stimulated skin but never touching his aching cock that was now furiously leaking, begging to be touched.
Sam’s fingers clawed at the concrete wall as Dean pulled his head back with a firm grip in his hair, titling his head to the side to plunge his own tongue inside the bartender's slack open mouth. Dean's tongue ravaged the insides of the hot cavern as his hips incessantly pressed into Sam below in short quick thrusts, grinding his cock against Sam’s already battered prostate every time he plunged back inside.
Just when Sam was about to reach down to his own cock that had been neglected far too long, he felt Dean pull out of him completely and turn him around to face him. Dean then pulled Sam’s left leg up, holding it tightly around his waist and then he pushed back inside again, never losing his rhythm from before and pounding into Sam fast and hard as if he’d never left.
This time Sam screamed and scrambled for purchase, his arms wrapping themselves around Dean’s neck as he was drilled into the wall with every punishing thrust. His back was going to be bruised but he didn’t care anymore, his cock was finally getting the much needed friction from Dean’s clothe covered stomach every time he rocked into Sam. Dean was panting hard into Sam’s ear. "Fuck, Sammy, you’re so tight and hot. You were made for me to fuck, baby.”
Sam had lost the ability to talk long time ago and all he could manage was to shout, “Ah! Dean...Dean!” into the ceiling.
Dean silenced him with his mouth, taking every moan and whimper Sam released into his own as their tongues entwined in a passionate dance. Sam could tell Dean was close by the way he was now hitting his prostate on every thrust, fully intending to make him come before Dean came himself.
It worked.
Before Sam knew what was happening, he felt the all too familiar tingling feeling in his balls and a white flash of light across his vision as he painted his stomach and Dean’s t-shirt with his own release. Dean dragged Sam’s limp form down the wall to the ground, positioning him in his lap then delivered few more powerful thrusts into the pliant body before releasing his own come inside the condom, his hips still jerking into Sam as he rode out his orgasm.
Dean leaned forward, resting his forehead against Sam’s collarbone as Sam leaned heavily back against the wall, both still too wiped out to speak.
As their harsh pants settled to even breaths, Dean spoke first. He lifted his head and looked into Sam’s still dazed and glassy eyes, “So Sammy, should you be fucking a complete stranger when you’re married?” Dean lifted Sam’s left hand to his lips and kissed the silver ring there on his wedding finger.
Sam chuckled, his voice still hoarse and raw. "I don’t think he’d mind, he’s always going on road trips for work, comes back every few weeks to see me but that’s it."
Dean was now kissing Sam’s left wrist, bruised from being tied. "He sounds like a bastard."
The bartender leaned forward, his right arm finding it’s way behind Dean’s neck.“Yeah, but he’s such a good fuck and to tell you the truth, I love the bastard.” He then leaned forward, kissing Dean nice and slow, his tongue stroking in languid motion.
When Sam pulled back, Dean’s eyes were glinting dangerously filled with dark promises, ready to make up for the last three weeks they hadn’t been together since he left to hunt a werewolf in New Orleans.
Sam kissed the side of Dean’s mouth and gave a genuinely happy smile.“Welcome home, baby.”
Dean smiled back, pulling Sam closer again to his lips. “It’s good to be back.” He then proceeded to kiss his husband breathless and his cock stirred again in interest, still deeply embedded in Sam.
“Dean…” Sam weakly warned as he felt his husband’s cock coming to life inside of him.
“Just one more time, Sammy, then we go home and make good use of our king sized bed." Dean bit into Sam’s nipple, rolling his tongue over the hardening nub. Sam whimpered and arched back, offering more of his chest for his husband to lick.
He lifted Sam’s hip up for a few seconds, just to take off the condom so that this time, they had nothing between them. When Dean was snuggly back inside of Sam again, his husband gave his approval by rocking his hips and clamping down on his now pulsing cock, full and ready.
Sam teasingly whispered into Dean’s ear, “Okay, but this time, I ride.” and with that said he started to move his hips in the most delicious ways.
The last thought Dean had before he lost himself in the scorching tight heat was “Damn. It’s good to be home."
The End.