Chapter Text
Dean looked at the brick exterior of the small town's library and made a face. God... don't let it be some book worm. Some mousy little 'yes man.' Or worse... an accountant with horn-rimmed glasses and a love of ledger-paper. The way his luck was running lately...
Then he felt it, that certain pull. Fuck it, he didn't care if the guy looked like a frog. He was his frog, and it would turn out just fine.
He took the stairs two at a time and shoved the door open, ignoring the startled looks. Good, at least the place wasn't large. He started walking the aisles of books, sometimes getting real close to some of the men reading. Nah, not this one. Not that one. THANK GOD not this one!
He turned into the next aisle, knowing he was right. The guy was here... he had to be. He almost tripped over a man who was about half his height, gave him a second look, and breathed a sigh of relief. Nope, not the one.
Then he rounded the corner to an area of desks and people sitting around, researching. He walked slowly, stopping by certain people, but his eyes were drawn to the back of the room. He stopped mid-stride to stare. There was a dark-haired man, about... maybe a couple years younger than him, staring into a laptop screen and chewing on the end of a pencil. His hair was longish in the front, covering his eyes. Dean could make out nice even features, a strong jaw, and an almost delicate mouth.
The guy shoved the pencil sideways into his mouth and started to let his fingers fly over the keyboard, like he was inspired. It was him. And he was inspiring Dean in more than one way, if his body's reaction to the thought of those hand playing over himself were any indication.
Grinning, he strode past everyone and stood on the other side of the desk, in front of the brunet "Hey bud, what's your name?" he asked, jutting his chin up.
Sam had come to the library to do some digging on local lore. Something had been said about witches in the area and Sam needed to find out just what kind they were - the 'I got a flower garden and make herbal teas' kind or the 'I conjure demons on the weekends and eat children' kind.
He’d been staring intently at his lap top screen reading article after article, fidgeting with the pencil in his hand out of boredom, finding a whole lot of nothing until finally he’d hit something and been deep in concentration. That was why he hadn't noticed the guy walk up to him, though he had the strangest desire to look up all of the sudden, even to get up out of his seat, but Sam had ignored it.
It was only after the guy spoke that he allowed himself to look up from his laptop screen, shifting in his chair. Sam raised his brows, then frowned slightly as he pulled a hand away from the keyboard and reached up, pulling the pencil out of his mouth. "Uh," Sam's gaze swept the room before landing back on the stranger, "can I help you?"
"I'm sure you can." Dean's grin widened. The guy wasn't just hot. He was fucking hot. He could wake up next to that face... that bod... he moved to the side to check it out... every day for the rest of his life, for sure. "First things first. What do I call you?"
Sam frowned harder as he watched the guy and listened to what he was saying. Why do I always draw the ones that are buckets o' crazy?
"Uh, yeah... Um, how about if you don't call me anything," Sam suggested as he looked into the guy’s eyes, "ever." Sam shook his head and returned his attention to his laptop, placing the pencil back in his mouth, he started typing again.
"How about I call you Baby, or Lover," Dean answered, speaking loudly as he sat on the edge of the table and leaned toward Sam. "Pumpkin, Cherry, or Sweetheart? No? Then give me a name."
The pencil dropped out of Sam's mouth, bounced off the edge of his laptop and continued downward onto the floor. Sam was sure everyone in the small library could hear the guy. He stared at him, stunned speechless for half a minute before his utterly shocked expression melted into a look of annoyance bordering on anger.
Sam looked around them then back at the guy. "Look, I guess I'm suppose to be flattered and all, but really dude, this is not the way to pick up a date and I'm straight. I have a fiance’ in fact, so, uh, thanks but no," Sam told him, speaking low.
He pushed his chair back then and pulled up to his feet, shutting down his laptop as he stood there waiting for his words to sink through the layers of crazy the guy was obviously sporting inside that head of his and comprehend what he had told him, and then get lost.
"Two things,” Dean answered, holding up a finger. “One, the proper word is 'mate,' but if you want to use fiance, fine... that would make me your fiance." He held up a second finger, "Two, dude you are so not straight." As if to prove his point, he walked around the table, reaching for him.
Sam glared at the guy as he started with his 'two things'. Mate? Hell would freeze over before this guy was his 'mate', fiance or anything else, and he wasn't looking for that to happen anytime soon.
Sam glared harder at point number two, jaw clenched, muscle twitching. Yeah, okay, he'd lied about the fiance thing, but he did have a kind of girlfriend... well, he saw her when he was in town, which wasn't often, but in his line of work it was as close as he could get to a girlfriend. Hell, she'd have to.... be a hunter too and willing to go from cheap motel to cheap motel, town to town with him and what woman in their right mind would want to do that? No, Madison was as close as Sam would ever have to a true girlfriend. Sure there were the occasional nameless faces but, he always came back to Maddy when he could. So, it wasn't a total lie.
Sam opened his mouth to give the guy a piece of his mind when the wack-job advanced on him, reaching for him like he was going to give him a fucking hug or something. Sam darted around to the other side of the table, eyes wide as he looked across it at the guy. "Look, dude, I'm sorry if I upset you or whatever, but this is not cool. I'm not interested. I'm sorry, now, please, just," Sam glanced toward the door, jutting his chin in toward the it, his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him as he prepared to flee if the guy tried anything again. "Go!"
Dean's gaze narrowed. "Can't do that. You can't hide from your destiny... and we're each others’. You can't resist me anymore than I can resist you." He licked his lips, watched the guy's eyes track the motion of his tongue. Yeah maybe he was a little ahead of the guy, but the guy's feeling would start to kick in soon enough and he'd catch up.
"Destin..." Sam grit his teeth. Holy shit! This guy took the cake when it came to nut jobs! Fuck! And then he licked his lips, those full soft looking lips, and Sam's eyes were drawn downward to watch his tongue move. He blinked a few times as if to clear his thoughts and just glared harder at the guy. What the hell!?
"Open your shirt."
Sam's eyes widened as he looked from the guy down at his button up shirt and back. He sputtered, mouth opening and closing before words finally came out, an octave too high. "I am not," Sam glanced around the room, swallowing and trying to talk again, this time his voice was within normal range. "I am not opening my shirt for you, buddy. You don't know me or anything about me. Now just fucking beat it!"
Dean took another couple steps toward him. "I know you're my mate." He was cocksure as ever. "And I know you have one of these on your chest." He opened his own shirt, tugging it to the side to reveal his natural tattoo. "I know you woke up with it when you were thirteen and that you dreamt about me all night long... woke with your probably first wet dream. You're mine, just like I'm yours. No one else will ever do it for you, not now... not after we met.” He let that truth sink in. “Gimme your name."
Sam took two steps backward away from psycho, eyes glued to him. His eyes moved to the expanse of skin bared by Dean and where the guy had a tattoo that matched Sam's own. Same place, same size, same everything. Fucker even got the story right. But there was no way in hell this was the guy he had dreamt about, that guy hadn't been a wacko, that guy had... Sam shook his head glaring at the guy before him. It was a trick, a spell, maybe he was a demon, something. Had to be.
Sam grit his teeth. "Christo." he said, loud enough for the guy to hear, but not to drawn unwanted attention. Sam eyed the guy up and down. There was no way he should know about... any of that. The only one who he had told about the history of the tattoo was Missouri and he knew she wouldn't have blabbed to anyone. He had never told another soul.
Sam narrowed his eyes, "Look, I dunno what kind of game you're playing, but it's not funny and you need to stop it, right now, okay?" his gaze dropped to his laptop. The guy was still too close to it for Sam to be able to snag it and run the hell out. "Just let me get my stuff and I'll leave and you can stay here, try this little... whatever it is, you have going, out on someone else. Maybe it'll work with them." Sam nodded, reassuringly as he reached across the table for his laptop.
Dean waited silently, then whipped his hand out and gripped the guy's wrist tight. "It's no game. This is about heart. It's about soul. It's about forever," he said seriously, pulling the guy's hand and pressing it over his own tattoo. "It's about destiny. You can't run. You can't hide. From this moment, you and I... we'll need each other more, and more, and it won't stop... it'll just build... until you can't take it anymore... being apart. Trust me, I am not lying to you." His chest rose and fell, and he wanted to pull the brunet into his arms and show him.
When the guy grabbed his wrist, Sam pulled back, his attention leaving the laptop to look up at the guy. Oh shit! His eyes widened slightly as he started talking like a friggin’ Hallmark card. Heart, soul, forever? What the....?
Sam's eyes narrowed, was this guy threatening him? Can't run, can't hide. Yeah, okay, that last part there, that did it. This was totally, definitely not funny anymore. He curled his hand pulling it as much away from the guy's chest as possible before yanking back himself back. "Let go of me, now." Sam told him, voice even but deadly. "You're obviously confused, I get that," Sam nodded, "and I don't want to hurt you, but if you don't let go and back. the. fuck. away. from. me. right. now., I am seriously going to whip your ass!"
"What makes you think you can?" The retort was all male and testosterone driven. Dean wished he could prove himself right here and now, but he was sure he'd have the chance later. "My name's Dean. Just so you know what name to call out the next time you jack off, or try to 'make it' with your girl."
Shoving the lap top toward the brunet, Dean stood back, letting his shirt hang open and looking at him with an unflinching gaze.
Just glad that the freak had let him go and was apparently going to let him get his things and leave, Sam remained silent as he closed his laptop and shoved it into the carry-case. Dean. Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Riiight. Not! Sam looked up at the guy before leaving, something in Sam's stomach somersaulted as he stood there, their gazes locked, slightly slanted champagne hazel clashing with brilliant green. Sam licked his lips, before tearing his gaze away from the guy and turning toward the door, slinging his laptop case strap over his shoulder as he walked. He forced himself not to look back.
Dean shook his head. He'd fought against his destiny too. Fought the pull of his mate, but it had gotten too strong. His need increased daily. His dreams of a faceless stranger that he needed like he needed to breath kept him restless and on edge. Then he'd gone to see Missouri. That psychic was over the top crazy but she'd done right by him, cause his mate was exactly where she'd told him.
Closing his shirt, Dean walked out. Within twenty four hours... forty eight max... that man would not be able to deny him. Already, Dean's mind was filled with images of all the ways they'd make love... he'd catch up, Sam would catch up with him, then God help Sam if Dean wasn't around and Sam needed a good fucking.
* * *
Sam didn't have a lot of money, most of what he did have was either from hustling pool or credit card fraud, so it wasn't like he could afford to take Madison out somewhere nice every night when he was in town and this time it looked like he might be here a while. He'd seen a movie where the guy did this and it looked romantic enough on film and it was cheap, so Sam gave it a shot. There was a park in the area, just off the main road, back away from the traffic, a large pond off to one side, with ducks and geese, the area, surrounded by lush green grass. In the movie, the couple had a picnic under the stars, just wine and grapes, but it was something, and it was different. So, Sam set it up and took Madison there, carrying the basket she had packed with the wine he'd bought, glasses and 'finger foods' as she called them. It was fruit, cheese and crackers is what it was, but if she wanted to call them something else who was he to stop her?
Handing Madison the basket, Sam spread the blanket out for them near the water, but with enough room that they could lay flat and not have their shoes get went. Sam knelt, taking the basket from her hands to set down and gripped her hips, laying his head against her stomach, he closed his eyes, a small smile pulling at his lips as he thought of.... brilliant green eyes, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of a nose, full lips that begged to be kissed, and a pink tongue that kept darting out to moisten them. Sam's eyes snapped open as he shoved Madison away, blinking up at her, eyes wide.
"What is it, Sam?" she asked once she regained her balance, "What's wrong?"
Sam shook his head, frowning thoughtfully as he looked away, squeezed his eyes closed and reopened them, "I dunno..." he looked back at her, reaching out a hand to her, "I'm sorry, I dunno what that was... bad hunt memories messing with me I guess." He smiled at her, showing dimples and Madison melted into his arms, never able to withstand the power of the dimples.
Dean had stood in the shadows long enough to finally learn his mate's name from the woman he was temporarily seeing. Sam. Samuel? No, Sammy, his Sammy. That thought, and every other thought of branding Sammy, made his tattoo tingle and warm. His eyes flashed as he watched Sam's arms close around the woman, watched his mate's desperate attempts to kiss her like he meant it. There were exaggerated moans, that made him tap his foot. Fake... fake... fake... he kept telling himself, so he wouldn't lose his temper. So he wouldn't walk over there and rip his Sammy from her arms.
Sam was on his back with Madison in his arms, kissing her, his hands running up and down her back, then up into her hair, only to run down again, soft moans leaving them both.
Her mouth left his, nipping at his bottom lip before she dipped her head and started to kiss along his jaw, down to his neck. Sam moaned, eyes closed as he lay there enjoying the things she was doing to him.
He thought about later, about when they got home or maybe in the backseat of the car, about slowly peeling her clothes off, fingers and hands touching sun-kissed skin, searching, exploring, mapping out... He thought about running his hand up over well toned muscles, to the the tattoo... Thought of pulling that body in and kissing full soft lips, of running his hands down his back, gripping and squeezing his ass, pressing his body harder against him, thought about running his fingers up into short cropped hair.... Sam moaned, "Dean..."
His eyes snapped open as Madison went perfectly still. Holy shit! At what part of that had it became the wacko from the library he was thinking about, he had no idea, he'd started out thinking about Madison and somewhere in there... Oh shit! Oh Hell!
"What did you just say, Sam?" Madison asked him as she slowly drew her head back, chocolate brown eyes gazing into his wide hazels.
Sam licked his lips, shook his head slightly, "Uh, nothin', I didn't say anything." he swallowed hard.
"He said Dean. That would be me," the hunter said distinctly, as he approached them. He sat down next to them, also bending over Sam so that his face was next to Madison's. "I'm right here baby, I know just what you want." He put his palm over Sam's exposed abs, holding him lightly, letting him feel... know how perfect they would be together.
At the sound of his voice, Sam felt Madison look up even as he himself saw it was the guy from the library. Aw, hell!
Madison pulled back further as she listened to this guy, this whoever he was, Dean, as he talked to Sam, her supposed, uh, well, not really boyfriend, but still, he was supposed to be her something! Dark eyes darted between the two men, lips parted in shock.
Sam scrambled away from Dean's touch, tugging his shirt down as he back crawled away from him, before reaching for Madison. "Go, get in the car, lock all the doors, roll up the windows, I'll be there in a minute," Sam told her, never taking his eyes off Dean.
"Sam, who is he?"
Sam glanced over at her, "I'll explain later, just go!" he told her. Thankful that she listened and quickly pulled to her feet. Sam watched her hurry to the car and get inside before he looked back at Dean. "Look, I guess I didn't make myself clear earlier," Sam said as he pulled to his feet, looking down at the guy. "When I said no, I meant no! Stop following me! Stop harrassing me! And STOP scaring my girlfriend!" Sam swore under his breath as he shook his head, reaching for the basket they had yet to even open.
"Hold on... I could'a sworn you're the one who called me," Dean said matter of factly, getting up. "Look, I told you, now that we met, she just won't do it for you. I'd be surprised if you even 'get it up' without thinking about me. Like you were right now."
Sam straightened to his full height, basket forgotten as he glared at Dean. "I didn't call you! And how I 'get it up' is none of your goddamn business! Go to hell and leave me the fuck alone!" Snatching up the basket, he started for the car. He didn't give a rats ass about the blanket, let it stay there. He just wanted to get the hell away from him.
"Sam. I can make you cum just by talking... that's some powerful connection." Dean followed slowly. "Did you think about my mouth on yours? I want to taste you so bad... I dream about it... all the time. Did I kiss you over your tattoo? Did you feel it tingle and burn? Do you know what it would like feel if I went down on you? My mouth around your cock. You'd cum and cum, until I told you you could stop... that's how much you need me."
Sam paused in his steps as the guy kept right on with his crazy talk, and following him. Dammit! He turned around, glaring at the guy as he set the basket on the ground beside him. "You're certifiable," Sam nodded, "you know that?" he asked jaw clenched, muscle twitching. "You're fucking fruit loops! Listen to me, seriously, go get help. You need it. You got the hots for me? Well, the object of your odd ass obsession just told you to go get mental help! So do it!" Sam huffed as he eyed Dean. "No one can cum just from someone talking, and there is no way in hell you could ever make me cum and cum until you tell me I can stop. It's medically impossible! Nice thought though, I think I'll try it out with MY GIRLFRIEND!" he shouted at him, before snatching up the basket. "And stop following me!" he snapped as he started walking again.
Once again, Dean followed him. When they reached the car, he grabbed Sam and slammed him back against the car. He'd been expecting it, so it was easy to block his punch and suddenly pin him against the car. Dean stepped between Sam's legs, making sure their bodies touched everywhere. "Is your heart beating fast? It's not because you're scared. You're biting your lip... it's called flirting." He moved closer, almost brushing those reddened lips. "Your breath is catching and your eyes... God if you could see your pupils."
Sam glared at Dean. His heart was pounding. Adrenaline. He was biting his lip so he wouldn't scream more at the guy and scare the hell out of Madison, he was not flirting! His breath was catching, sure, he was freaked the fuck out. Who wouldn't be? And there was nothing going on with his eyes, dammit! It was none of those things the guy was saying, None. At least that's what he told himself, even as he felt his cock twitch.
He started to feel Sam's body come alive against his. "I could make you cum and cum... it's not impossible. When you need me bad enough, phone me." He leaned in and whispered his number over Sam's ear, and let him go. "Don't be stubborn," he pointed at him as he backed away. "You'll only be hurting yourself and me."
Sam fought the urge to swallow hard, figuring the guy would point that out as something suggestive too. Not that he was going to admit that the things Dean was saying, what he was telling him it could be like we're affecting him, making him want them, want them so bad... He was just horny. Hell, it had been months now, and he hadn't been here, had been too busy on hunts, only falling into bed. He and Madison had been making out, it was natural that he'd be hard right now. It sure as hell wasn't because he could feel every line of the other guys body and no, he was not straining against him, toward him. He was trying to get away, dammit!
Sam huffed about not being stubborn, licking his lips. For some odd reason there was an empty feeling gnawing at his stomach because he hadn't gotten to taste... OH HELL NO! Sam spun around and tugged open the car door as Madison unlocked it, quickly sliding behind the wheel.
As he watched Sam drive off, Dean felt physical pain at the separation. He wanted so badly to finish what he'd started. But he also needed Sam primed to accept him. He knew it was inevitable, but that didn't mean he was going to force him. Sam would come to him soon, would need him like he needed to breathe. All Dean had to do was wait... and maybe nudge... cause waiting... waiting was a bitch when you'd found the man of your dreams and wanted to get started with the rest of your life.
* * *
Sam sat in the cheap motel room at the small table gazing unseeingly at the laptop screen. It was a curse or a spell, had to be. Maybe this Dean was one of the witches he'd heard about in the area. Sam squirmed in his chair, reaching a hand down to press against his cock, straining against his jeans, achingly hard.
He huffed and shook his head, running his free hand through his hair. He'd come to the conclusion that this was more than some sort of fixation and something supernatural the moment he had been unable to do.... anything with Madison after he took her home. Nothing she did, nothing he did had seemed to work. God, he had feared for a while that he'd studdenly been struck impotent. Fuck!
Not that he would put that past a pissed off witch, especially a jealous one. Dammit. He reached down with his other hand, unfastening the button and zipper of his jeans, pushing them down slightly, freeing his rock hard cock. Wrapping his hand around it, Sam started to stroke himself as he sat back in the chair, head tilted back.
It had been only after he had gotten back to his motel room and thought again of his wicked witch that his damn dick had decided to show that it wasn't down and out for the count. No, now instead it was so fucking hard it was painful. Fuck! He'd actually thought about going back over to Madison's but how exactly would that look? 'Hi, I got it up, wanna screw?' yeah, definitely not his idea of a cool thing to do.
Instead, he'd tried to ignore it, researching spells and lore on spells and the witches in the area and anything else he could think of that might tell him what the hell that bastard had done to him.
"Fuck!" Sam pulled his head up and looked down at his cock, "What the hell is your problem!" he yelled at it.
This wasn't working, thinking about Madison wasn't working, neither was it helping to think about Julia Styles, Alanis Morrisette, Milla Jovovich or any other of his norms. Fuck! His mind started to wander as he sat there stroking himself and flashes of brilliant green eyes ran through his mind, full lips that would look so good stretched around his cock and feel even better. Sam felt his cock harden even more, precum pearling at the tip. Fuck! No! No! No! He was not going to think about that asshole! No way! Forget it!
Sam stuffed himself back into his boxers and tried again to concentrate on the computer screen. Another twenty minutes passed and Sam was so hard, so horny, so on fire, he was ready to scream. Pulling from the chair he staggered over to the bed, collapsing down, face first onto the mattress with a groan. "I hate you!" His yell was muffled by the pillow.
* * *
Dean walked quietly into the room and found Sam laying on his back on the couch, one leg straight, his other foot flat on the ground. Stepping up to the arm of the couch and leaning over it, he whispered, "hi sexy." By the time the brunet's eyes fluttered open, Dean had brought his mouth down over Sam's in a slow, but insistent upside down kiss. He ran his hands over Sam's chest, down and up, lingering, memorizing, then curling his fingers under the hem of his tee and inching it up. Now his hands moved over hot, quivering flesh, as he easily marched his lover-to-be toward a full on raging hard on.
Hearing his voice Sam's heart somersulted as he slowly woke, lashes fluttering up. He was there. Before Sam could muster a thought as to whether he was glad about that or if he should run like hell, the guy, Dean, had slanted his mouth over his. So good. He tasted so good. Don't stop. Don't ever stop. It was just a kiss so far, but Sam didn't want it to ever end, didn't want the empty feeling he knew would be there once the guy drew away.
He was touching him now, his strong calloused hands on Sam's chest, first through the fabric of his shirt, then under it. Oh God, since when did it feel so good to just be caressed? Sam found himself arching his back, pressing his chest into Dean's hands, needing his touch. Needing it so damn much he thought he'd go mad without it. A moan sounded deep in Sam's throat as he raised an arm, wrapped it backward around Dean's neck, not wanting him to stop, to pull back, to go anywhere and leave him vacant, feeling empty. His breaths started coming faster, his cock growing harder by the second it seemed, straining against his jeans. Sam moaned low and long, the sound swallowed up in their kiss.
As he carressed and touched, Dean ocasionally broke his kisses to whisper to Sam. "Made for me. Just for me." His thumb almost idly moved over Sam's tattoo, sending a jolt of heat through both of their systems with each pass. "All my life... knew something was missing. A part of me. Nothing filled that gap. Not all the women in the world." His voice was low and velvety, slightly husky.
Sam wasn't so sure what the guy was saying was right, but at the moment he didn't care. Madison hadn't been able to do it for him, none of the famous hotties he normally thought about when he jerked off had done anything, but this guy, this Dean was doing it for him. He was getting his body to respond like no one else was able to. He was rock hard and all they had done was kiss and it felt so good, every time Dean touched him it felt like heaven, sent warmth and pleasure shooting through his system.
Dean moved one hand lower, over the button of Sam's jeans, playing with it. His mouth slid off Sam's, moving over his jaw, and his throat as he stretched down Sam's body. "Then one day, no one satisfied me... nothing could... not until I found you. Only you Sam, please believe." Kissing his chest over his shirt, he moved lower, and landed wet kisses on Sam's stomach, his hand now covering the buldge between Sam's legs. "Believe in me... believe in this."
Sam's hips thrust upward toward Dean's hand on the button of his jeans. He hadn't even meant to do it... he didn't think, but hell, he couldn't form a thought right now to save his life anyway. His body's nerve ends seemed raw, exposed and Dean it appeared knew how to touch each one. Sam's head turned, offering more of his neck to Dean, his breaths coming faster, chest rising and falling with each one. Sam took in a deep breath, nostrils flaring, as he pressed his lips together to keep himself from screaming out at the guy to just do it. Fuck him, do something!
As Dean cupped him, Sam groaned, head rolling as his eyes closed, hips thrusting upward into Dean's hand. Sam bit into his lip harder, his face contorting in almost a painful look as he fought not to tell Dean to do it, to tell him that he needed him, wanted him. Sam raised his hands to his eyes, heel of his palms covering his eyes as he groaned, lips parting as his breaths panted out. "Oh fuck!" he sucked in air between his teeth as he pulled his hands down and looked at Dean, blinking a few times. "What," Sam's hips jerked upward again into the palm of Dean's hand cupping him, his body shuddering slightly. Sam licked his lips, "What did you do to me? This a spell?" he asked, brows furrowed as his head rolled on the pillow.
Dean didn't answer. "Cum for me again..." He hardly touched Sam and the brunet's body came off the sofa as a groan was torn from the back of his throat. "Again... and again... Cum again...."
*
Sam sucked in a sharp breath as he lifted his head, face out of the pillow his eyes taking in the motel room as he rolled over with a loud groan. He was still fucking hard as hell! For a wet dream, it sure as hell hadn't done much for his physical body other than, if it was possible, make him harder, hornier, ache more. Sam's hands went to the waistband of his jeans and shoved them down along with his boxers, freeing his straining erection. "Oh God..." his head rolled on the pillow.
What the hell was he going to do? Sam looked toward the nightstand, the alarm clock and the motel phone there caught his eye.
Call. He could call Dean. "Ahhhhug!" With a groan from the ache between his legs and the fact that he was actually seriously considering calling that nut job, Sam pulled his cell out of his jeans pocket and called the number the guy had whispered to him. He wasn't even sure how in the hell he remembered it, in fact he said a silent prayer as it rang that he'd gotten the number right.
Dean immediately picked up. "Sammy?" His voice was hoarse. "Tell me its you, baby."
Sam groaned into the phone. "Oh God, what did you do to me? Fuck! I'm -" Sam licked his lips. How was he going to do this? Just call up some stranger and tell him, 'Hi, I can't cum, make me?' Shit! Fuck! He had totally not thought this out.
Sam panted, chest rising and falling as he reached down with his free hand and gripped his cock, squeezing, slowly starting to pump. "Whatever you did, undo it, please. I can't," he shook his head though Dean wouldn't see it. "I can't take it anymore."
"I didn't do anything. You think I'm not going through the same thing." Dean's breaths were labored. He stroked himself harder, listening to Sam's sweet need-filled voice, his breaths. "Sammy, you're hard for me. You need me. You want my mouth on your cock... you want to fuck my mouth, you want my body on top of yours, you need to hear the words..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Cum. Cum for me Sam, right now. Fucking cum for me," he demanded, head thrown back as his own balls drew up tight against his body.
Sam panted out his breaths as he pumped his cock faster. Images, those images, the things Dean was saying, going through his head, making him ache, his cock leak precum down the side. "Oh God, Dean..."
Sam felt his balls draw up, heat coil tightly in his lower belly, he raised his head off the pillow, looking down at himself, face contorted with pleasure/pain. "Oh Fuck!" he ground out the words, just before he threw his head back, slamming it into the pillow, as his back arched his cock up into his fisted hand. Sam came hard and hot, coating his fist, spilling onto his stomach. His breaths panted out through parted lips, as his neck arched back further.
"Sammy? You listening? One more time, baby." As the words left his lips, Dean re-imagined the sounds that had left Sam the first time he came, and just like that, he was shooting spunk across the room like he hadn't just come. Breathing hard, he waited for Sam to talk. To ask to meet him. To fall into his arms and leave with him.
Sam was breathing heavy, trying to calm down from his intense orgasm when he frowned into the phone. "Wha- What? Ah- again!? Are you nuts? It almost killed me this time." he licked his lips, "And I am not your 'baby'! If you hadn't done... whatever, I wouldn't even have called you!" Completely irritated and not just a little angry, Sam pulled the cell from his ear and hit the END button, tossing the cell onto the bed beside him.
The guy was a fucking loon! YOU called him, dumbass!, he berated himself as he reached up with one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed. Crazy must be catching or else he never would have called that guy, and especially not so he could get off to images of having the guy suck his dick and fuck him. No way! Uh-uh, never.