Because we're out

by Nomelon

Setting: Could be set anytime.
Disclaimer: all belongs to CW & Kripke. No money is being made, yadda yadda.
Rating: NC-17 pwp
Characters: Sam/Dean
A/N: Following this exchange about condoms in fandom, and this comment, "And if they did run out, Sam would tease the everloving fuck out of Dean with the filthiest foreplay he could devise until Dean makes sure they never run out ever again." made by yours truly, I have now crossed over to the dark side. Can't quite believe I'm going to post this, but what the hell.

~~~

'Sam. Just, uh, stop. Seriously. Cut it out.'

'Hmm?' Sam lifts his head from Dean's stomach, all sleepy smiles and blinky eyes, like he's forgotten that there's an actual Dean-person inside the warm body he's been draped over for the past half an hour.

'I said quit. You know we can't.'

Sam just slowly pushes Dean's shirt up to his ribs with the heel of his hand. 'Can't what?' he asks Dean's bellybutton, then runs around the edge of it with just the tip of his tongue.

Dean shudders and his hands bunch into fists on the sheets. 'We can't.'

'How come?'

'Because we're out.'

'Oh yeah.' Sam pouts and sucks a leisurely little kiss down low on Dean's stomach, nudging the waistline of his jeans out of the way with his chin. 'Wasn't it your turn to buy 'em?'

Dean sucks in a breath, watching Sam's unhurried exploration of his happy trail using only his nose and lips. 'How come it's always my turn?'

''Cause you're the one who got shit-faced and decided that balloon animals were a really, really good idea.'

'Oh yeah.' Dean grins. 'That was a good idea.'

'If you're a complete ass it is.' Sam gives emphasis to his words by sliding his hand under the crook of Dean's leg and squeezing his ass, slow and full of purpose.

'Sammy,' Dean hisses. 'Goddamn it.'

'You're also the one who won't do it without them, but hasn't got around to getting tested yet.'

'We've been over this,' Dean says. 'I just want to be-- fuck.

Sam looks up from where he'd been rubbing his cheek along the outline of Dean's erection through his jeans. 'You just want to be fucked?'

Dean bites back on a groan and tries not to think about Sam's warm, wet mouth or what it feels like when Sam slides all the way inside him, joining them, breaking him open, filling him up. And he's definitely not thinking what it would feel like to do it without the separating layer of latex between them. Just skin on skin. No boundaries. Just slick and stretch and Sam.

'No.' He licks his lips. 'No. I mean, yeah, man, of course, like, always. But no. I just want to be safe. Until we're sure.'

'You've always been careful.'

'I've mostly been careful. There's a difference.'

Sam rests his chin on Dean's hip and hums his answer, ostensibly giving thought to what Dean is saying, but Dean's pretty sure he does it just to make the vibrations from his throat hit Dean's cock in all sorts of interesting ways. It's distracting enough that when Sam takes hold of the waist of Dean's jeans in his teeth and tugs, the ancient denim gives way easily over the buttons before Dean realises what he's doing.

'Sammy...'

'You know you could always run out and get some more,' Sam suggests like it's the easiest thing in the world.

'Dude. We're in a cabin in the middle of the freakin' woods. Next town is fifty miles that-a-way. It's also the middle of the night and nothing in that sprawling metropolis is gonna be open for another eight or nine hours.'

'Oh yeah,' Sam says, nosing at Dean through his shorts. He pauses at the damp spot where the tip of Dean's dick is pressed against the material and makes sure Dean is watching him when he darts out his tongue to taste. Sam smiles with his tongue between his teeth and it's the craziest mixture of crazy wicked evil and total angelic innocence Dean thinks he's ever seen. 'I forgot.'

This time Dean does groan. 'Such a shitty liar,' he says, unable to stop the needy lift of his hips or the way his cock is twitching, trying to get closer to Sam.

Sam tugs down Dean's jeans and shorts, ignoring Dean's token protests, just far enough to give him room to work. 'Pity,' he says, low and soft, letting his words puff against Dean's balls. 'I've been thinking about riding you all day.'

Dean's cock jumps and bops Sam on the nose. Sam bursts out laughing and Dean groans again, this time with a sort of incredibly turned on yet incredibly frustrated embarrassment.

'You like that?' Sam asks, amusement still dancing in his eyes. Dean can't help but be impressed that Sam doesn't drop his gaze to ask his questions. He didn't think that Sammy had it in him, even if his ears are burning red, his cheeks are flushed, and his pupils are blown wide, reinforcing everything he's whispering like it's just for them. Their own personal dirty little secret. 'If I just climbed on top of you and took you?' Sam asks. 'You wouldn't even have to do anything. Just lie there and take it while I did all the work. That's what I've been thinking about.'

'You...?'

'Yeah.' Sam lets the word float out on a hot little breath. Licks his lips and nods a little unevenly. 'Been thinking about it. Been thinking about taking you hard. So I'll be able to feel you inside me for days.' He tilts his head. 'So... yeah. Pity.'

Dean throws his head back into the pillows and covers his face with his arm. 'Jesus,' he says, and he can feel the heat on his cheeks -- it's all Sam's fault, the filth-talking little bastard. 'When did you start talking like that?'

'A while back. What? You didn't notice?'

Dean lifts his head and looks down his body to where Sam is watching him. 'You going to stop talking any time soon?'

Sam licks him from root to tip, one long swipe with the flat of his tongue, still smiling that mixed up little smile, and there is no more talking. Sam has one arm still hooked under Dean's thigh, his hand curling around to knead at Dean's hip, leaving only his mouth to give him a sloppy, tonguing blowjob. His other hand is busy getting his own jeans open, jacking himself in time to the bobs of his head. There's an obscene slurping sound as Dean's cock gets away from him, but Sam only grins. Never taking his eyes from the prize, he tosses his hair out of his eyes and goes after it again, suckling at the tip before sliding his lips down Dean's shaft. Dean bites his lip at the sight, torn between watching himself slide between Sam's lips and watching Sam work himself with those big, careful hands.

It's so fucking hot and Dean knows he's close, knows he's seconds away from losing it completely, so he drags Sam up the bed and kisses him hard, trying to lick the taste of himself off Sam's tongue, off the roof of his mouth. Sam doesn't seem to mind, he just kisses back, giving as good as he gets, making happy little humming noises deep in the back of his throat, and wraps his hand around Dean, using the circle of his hand to finish what his mouth started. Dean breaks away with a grunt, his body shaking, their foreheads pressed together. He just holds on tight to Sam's upper arms and comes all over their stomachs, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he forgets everything. He forgets to move, forgets to return the awesome sexual favours Sam is paying him, forgets his own name.

Forgets everything but this. Right here, right now, this is everything.

He comes down slow, his body unwinding, and it's the feeling of Sam's hand wrapping around his lax fingers, pressing them to the heat of Sam's hard cock that brings him back to himself. Sam kisses him, the coaxing of his lips and tongue a wordless plea, and so Dean hauls him in close with an arm looped around Sam's neck, and starts to move his hand, giving little twists of his wrist on the upstroke, letting his thumb rub against the underside of the head of Sam's cock, just where he knows it drives Sam crazy. He lets Sam grab at fistfuls of his shirt and twist 'til it's almost painful. It doesn't matter, nothing matters except... Sam coming with a yelp, his whole body tense and shaking, his stupid emo hair telegraphing his enthusiasm and sticking up in all directions, his face crumpling for a second like he's in pain as he rocks in Dean's arms, then blissed out and so fucking beautiful when he comes back to himself, opens his eyes and looks at Dean and smiles.

'Next town we come to, I'm buying every fucking box of condoms they have,' Dean promises, ignoring the hell out of the shaken husk of his voice.

'Yeah?'

Dean nods solemnly. 'My word is my bond.'

Sam lets out a huff of laughter, rolls closer and pushes his face into Dean's throat. 'You could just go get tested. Then we wouldn't need them.' He lifts his lips to Dean's ear to murmur, 'We wouldn't ever have to stop. Not ever.'

Dean stares up at the ceiling, his mouth open, taking shallow little breaths as he thinks this through. 'That's doable too.'

He can feel Sam's smile against his throat. 'Knew you'd see it my way eventually.'

Manipulative little... 'Bitch,' Dean says fondly.

'Yeah, yeah,' Sam says with a sleepy little yawn and wraps his arm around Dean's stomach.

The end.