Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Fandom:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Collections:
Sinful Desire
Stats:
Published:
2011-10-04
Completed:
2011-10-04
Words:
6,366
Chapters:
2/2
Kudos:
2
Bookmarks:
1
Hits:
137

Relentless

Summary:

What happens when you tease Dean Winchester into a corner?

Notes:

Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at Sinful-Desire.org. To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on Sinful Desire collection profile.

Chapter 1: The Big Tease

Chapter Text

Dean. Was. Relentless.

 

Sam had no idea how he was doing it or how he wasn’t making himself crazy because Dean was driving Sam mad.

 

It had been two weeks since the afternoon at the diner. They had disposed of the water demon and were looking for the next bad thing. Dean wasn’t really inventive, but somehow he didn’t have to be.

 

Every time he walked past Sam he touched him.

 

And not touched him in a whoops-sorry-man-didn’t-see-you-there kind of way but in a wait-till-I-get-you-alone kind of way. The gentle caress of Dean’s fingers across his forearm reaching for the ketchup, the brush of his shoulder passing on the way to the bathroom, the crush of his thigh in restaurant booths; all too long for accidental collisions, but too short for any satisfaction.

 

So Sam jerked off.

 

Sam repeatedly found himself in the bathroom or shower, eyes closed as he imagined every inch of Dean’s skin, every sound from Dean’s lips, the smell, the taste of Dean’s skin. He tried every time to touch himself the way Dean did, but their hands were too different, the angle, the twist, he could never manage it and it left him even more frustrated than when he began.

 

Sam was really pissed at himself that he had gotten himself into the most amazing relationship that any person could pray for let alone an awkward sixteen year old and here he was, back to jacking off.

 

Stupid.

 

He should just apologize, he thought. Just go right up to him and say sorry for . . . for what? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just having fun and Dean just needed to get over it. Sam Winchester may not have invented it, but he had mastered passive aggressive.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Dean didn’t get it.

 

Seriously, how was Sam actually managing to stand this? Dean could hardly stand it and he was old enough to supposedly have some control. So why was he sneaking off to the bathroom any chance he could get.

 

Was it really worth his own personal aggravation to teach Sam a lesson? It wasn’t as if Dean didn’t enjoy Sam’s little peep show in the back seat or really, really enjoy Sam making up for his peep show. So honestly why didn’t Dean just say lesson learned and go grab a piece of that sweet ass?

 

Because Dean Winchester just doesn’t give in.

 

Time to turn up the heat, Dean thought. But first things first. Dean made his way to the bathroom and let the stinging cold water do its thing.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Dean seemed to take more showers than Sam remembered, or maybe Sam just hadn’t really noticed until now. Sam wasn’t stupid though and he did know that Dean didn’t usually come out of the shower quite so wet having to take his towel off to finish drying himself . . . slowly, his half hard cock bobbing there invitingly. No, Sam knew that was all there just for him. And all the while, John sat at the table or on the bed or in the chair reading or writing or sleeping. No so involved that he would notice Dean’s obscenely long drying sessions, but he certainly would notice Sam jumping Dean right there in the same room.

 

Dean slid past Sam on the way to his bag. “Suck your cock?” He asked in a barely there whisper.

 

“What?!” Came Sam’s desperate, startled response, about an octave too high and ten decibels too loud.

 

“Something wrong Sam?” John asked, startled from his forty winks.

 

Sam swallowed hard, his cock already interested in Dean’s suggestion. “No. Sorry Dad,” Sam scowled at his brother. “I just thought Dean said something.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

It wasn’t just the teasing; Sam had been ready for that.

 

Dean was making sure that John never left them alone.

 

They were between hunts; there was no way that Dean could pull this off if they were on a job because John always split them up for any number of things but with nothing to hunt, John just stuck around. Dean volunteered to go everywhere with him even talking him into it if necessary.

 

“Well boys, I have to go on a supply run. You all right here by yourselves?” John asked. Sam’s eyes lit up like Christmas at Rockefeller thinking that they could finally fight or fuck this out. Either way, Sam needed to release something.

 

“Why don’t we all go together Dad?” Dean asked.

 

“What?” John chuckled. “Don’t you usually bitch about having to do the supply run?”

 

“Yea, but that’s because I have to do it alone.” Dean shrugged, with a chuckle, giving himself time to think. “It’s different if I’ve got someone to go along.”

 

John shrugged. “Then take your brother.” Sam was nodding furiously from behind his father. What in the nine rings of hell was Dean playing at?

 

“Come on Dad.” Dean smiled. “When’s the last time we spent any time together when we weren’t trying to kill something?”

 

Something in Dean’s voice touched John and he relented. “All right boys, let’s go.” He pulled on a jacket, no journal, and no books. “And if you’re good, maybe I’ll buy you ice cream.” He smiled over his shoulder.

 

Sam held back so that Dean had to turn to look for him. “What the fuck are you playing at?” He hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

 

“You wanted to play a game Sammy, I’m playing a game.”

 

“What happens when I don’t want to play anymore Dean?” Sam grabbed his jacket and threw a shoulder into his brother, just a little too hard. “What then?”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Days followed on top of each other and Dean didn’t let up. Every time he could pass closely by Sam’s ear he would whisper some obscene suggestion and dear God they were getting obscene.

 

“Drink you down.”

“Fuck you with my tongue.”

“Bend you over this table.”

“Blow, fuck, suck, lick (take your pick) on the hood of the car.”

 

It really was kind of amazing how fast Dean could talk when he wanted to get Sam going.

 

But then, uncharacteristically, Dean overplayed his hand. He came out of the shower and leaned in real close. His tongue reached out and trailed up the shell of Sam’s ear. “Gonna bury myself, balls deep in your ass Sam.” Sam swallowed hard and his head dropped back against Dean’s bare shoulder and he startled. Dean was freezing.

 

And then Sam knew.

 

Dean wasn’t just taking showers to parade nude in front of Sam, they were cold and that meant only one thing. Dean wasn’t quite as strong as he thought he was.

 

And Sam smiled.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Shit! Dean thought.

 

Sam turned to him, not with the jelly legs and clammy sweats that Dean wanted, but with cold steely determination. Dean had made a grave tactical error and changed the game from siege to prolonged land battle.

 

Shit!

 

Time to turn up the heat another 10.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

It was still unseasonably warm so Dean went without a shirt. Dean never went without a shirt, no matter how hot it got, but still, not something Dad’s going to question. But every time John’s back was turned, Dean would flex his muscles or caress his chest or tweak his nipples, anything as long as Sammy was watching.

 

And believe it, Sammy was still watching but much as he enjoyed the show, he filled his mind with any number of the gory, horrible things they had seen over the years to avoid showing Dean any of what he was really feeling. He would always take his eyeful and then turn from Dean in aloof disinterest.

 

Then there was one night they were all watching TV, Dean had a shirt on, thank God, but as soon as he caught Sam’s eye he pushed his Tee up just high enough to give a peek at that toned, tanned belly before he unsnapped the top button of his jeans. Sam watched, transfixed as Dean slid his fingers down into the waistband of his jeans.

 

John was not ten feet away, so Sam knew that there was no way Dean was going to get his whole hand in there for any real action, but what the hell was he going to do? And then Sam realized that he was wrong to ever underestimate Dean’s determination to fuck with his little brother. Dean somehow snaked that big hand into those tight jeans to squeeze and palm himself. Sam couldn’t say anything, didn’t want to say anything, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from this show.

 

Sam watched as his brother’s eyes glazed over and a thin sheen of sweat began to form. Damn it, Sam thought, of all times for Dean to leave his shirt on because Sam realized that he really did want to see that sweat glistening on his brother’s chest.

 

Dean sighed and ran his tongue across that fat bottom lip as his eyes slid shut and Sam was fairly certain that he was going to blow a load in his drawers before Dean did, but Sam hadn’t lost sight of the fact that he was trying to make a point and Sam was nothing if not stubborn. He willed himself to concentrate and watch Dean as he shuddered through his orgasm, right there on the bed, not ten feet from his father. But as soon as Dean’s eyes opened and he looked over, Sam shrugged and turned away.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Dean pulled his cooling, sticky hand from his jeans with a grimace. He was certain that was going to work. His resolve was starting to crumble. Despite all the jerking off and cold showers, Dean felt so backed up he would swear he could taste himself in the back of his own throat. He made his way to the bathroom and cleaned himself up before making his way to bed. Sam was reading a book on the couch and gave Dean a nod before he tucked himself into bed.

 

The next morning, quite possibly the worst thing either of them could think of happened.

 

“Sammy.” John walked by the end of the sofa where Sam had ‘accidentally’ fallen asleep and ruffled his hair. He then walked to the foot of the bed and shook his eldest’s feet. “Dean. Come on boys, up and at ‘em.”

 

“Dad?” Dean came awake quickly. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong, we just haven’t had any action for a while so I thought you boys should go out for some sparring practice this morning.”

 

If John had taken a look at the faces of his sons he might have wondered just what was going on, but he didn’t and so he missed the look of stricken horror on both of them. Sparring meant touching, and holding and rolling and all kinds of positions way too close to the positions they really wanted to be in. There wouldn’t be any half-assing it either. John was a marine for Christ’s sake. There was no half-assing folding your fucking boxers into your duffel.

 

“Really Dad?” Dean’s voice almost squeaked out of him. “We’re not out of shape.”

 

“Well there’s no point in getting out of shape either. We could be on a long dry spell. Could be here a while. You don’t have any other plans, now do you?”

 

“No sir.” Dean relented. Arguing further would just make matters worse.

 

“All right then, be ready. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes with coffee.”

 

Dean turned to look at Sam and couldn’t believe how badly the color had drained from his brother’s face. He had seen dead things with more flush in their cheeks.

 

“Sammy . . .”

 

“I can’t do it Dean.” Sam whispered. “I can’t play this game anymore. This is going to kill me.”

 

For the first time in over three weeks, Dean took his brother in his arms and pulled him close. The words at his ear no longer teasing, but sweet and supportive. “Let’s just get through this Sammy and then we’ll make it right.” He pulled back and looked deep into his brother’s pleading eyes. The need in his brother’s beautiful eyes, not just for sex, but for intimacy, sensuality, love. “I promise.”

 

Sam clenched his jaw and nodded stoically. “Sweat pants?”

 

“Oh fuck yea.” Dean chuckled, at least glad they agreed.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

John didn’t think he’d ever seen his boys looking so miserable together. Or awkward in their moves with each other. They had been doing this for years and should be able to almost dance together and yet their movements were jerky and unpracticed as if this were their first time sparring together.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you boys?” John started. “Thought you said you weren’t out of shape Dean.”

 

Dean sat back on his haunches. “Guess I’m just not feeling it today Dad.”

 

“Well maybe you’ll feel it tomorrow, or the next day, or the next because we can drill until the next thing comes along.”

 

Sam groaned from the ground beside Dean. “Let’s just do it, Dean. Let’s get it over with.”

 

Dean glanced at his brother. “You going to be okay?”

 

“I’ll manage.” He smiled weakly as Dean gave him a hand up. “Just don’t rub anything you don’t have to.”

 

“All right,” John directed. “Sam, start again.”

 

Sam grabbed Dean from behind, his right arm down across the chest while his left pulled Dean’s up between their bodies. As much as Sam tried, there was no space in the grapple for him to keep his bulging cock from nestling between the cheeks of Dean’s ass. Dean kicked his left foot back between Sam’s to wind around one of his legs to pull it out from under him, a manoeuvre that did nothing to lessen the pressure on Sam’s cock. A moan escaped the young man as Dean pulled the leg out from under them. Sam landed expertly despite his predicament and Dean proficiently flipped over to pin his brother to the ground.

 

Dean only half heard John’s praise at their ‘finally pulling their heads our of their asses’. He stared into Sam’s eyes, half full of love and admiration, the other half blind lust as their raging cocks pulsed against each other. “Just finish me Dean.” Sam tried to smile. “Let him shoot us, but finish me.”

 

Dean let out a laugh and jumped up, reaching a hand out for his brother. “Soon Sammy, soon.”

 

And then the unthinkable happened.

 

John caught a case.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Two days drive?” Sam keened when Dean told him the bad news.

 

“Sam . . .”

 

“God Dean, just promise me we’re never going to do anything this stupid again.” Sam pleaded. “Like ever.”

 

Dean swooped in for a kiss before John came back for another load. “Never.” Sam kissed back hungrily and then relented almost immediately, realizing that he was only making it harder on himself too.

 

Sam sighed as the Impalla’s horn blew. “All right, let’s just get this over with.” He gave Dean another quick kiss before picking up his duffel and heading for the door. “But the things I’m going to do to you. . .”