Hard 7

Sam smiled, "My brother would kill me if I sold that car. You would have to come to my funeral... but I don't think you'd be around for it." That thought made Sam frown. This was just getting too friggin' weird. How the hell was it that he felt like he was getting feelings for the guy who he was with, that was really his brother, but not, and missing the fact that if his brother killed him, he, the non-Dean, wouldn't be able to be there because Dean-Dean would be? Okay, this was nuts. Starting with the fact that this was a guy and quickly declining thereafter.

Sam sighed and shook his head as he pressed his lips together. "I have a secret stash I plan to dip into for the auction, but I was hoping to stick with the one card before that, so, what do you have that won't break me," he glanced down at his cock, then back up at his brother, his cheeks stained a soft scarlet, "or break me?"

"I'd never break you. You're not feeling any pain now," Dean corrected him. "Offer lots of things. Blow jobs but..." he looked down and didn't think Sam needed one right now.

Sam's gaze followed Dean's to his flaccid cock and Sam cleaned his throat wishing that the towel wasn't somewhere on the floor right about now as he lifted his gaze back to Dean's face and shook his head.

"Body shots." Dean told him the price and noted the way Sam’s eyes widened. "Hey, a body shot from me comes with a lot of tongue action, I'm pretty damned talented. Or you can give one to me," he shrugged. Then he listed a couple of other things, and took a breath. "Or you could buy me to fuck you. I'd like that," he said, a husky note entering his voice. "I really, really would like that." When he leaned in to give him the price, he rubbed his erection against Sam's thigh to prove his point.

Sam licked his lips and shifted uncomfortably as he looked down at the floor for a moment. Looking back at Dean, he shook his head. "I told you, I don't pay for sex," he huffed and rolled his eyes at the look on Dean's face, "this is different, it's you, and... " he pressed his lips together, "well, it's just different!" The word 'jerk' was on the tip of Sam's tongue, but he didn't think this Dean would understand that they always fucked with one another with the words 'bitch' and 'jerk'. Yeah, okay, bad choice of wordage, AGAIN, but the point was still there.

"And I know you think you want me," Sam moved his leg slightly away from Dean as he shook his head, "but I've never been with a guy before, I might not be any good at it, so then your whole fantasy would be blown away." Sam nodded, "Better to just daydream about it," he offered a small smile, "When I buy you at the auction later, you'll have all night to do whatever you want to. It doesn't matter to me, as long as you aren't out here and I know you're safe and with me," he told him softly, gazing up into his brother's brilliant green eyes.

Dean held his gaze, knowing it wouldn’t happen, but wishing they would have all night together. And even if they did, would a client REALLY let him choose what to do? After paying all that cash? Even someone who seemed as giving and naïve as Sam?

"Well, how about I buy two of those body shot things off of you. One for me and one for you." Sam glanced at his watch, "Shouldn't the auction start about the time we finish those?" Sam asked biting his lip.

* * *

Sam was not prepared for exactly what a 'body shot' entailed apparently, and he sure as hell hadn't thought they would be this sexual. When they left the massage room, Dean had suggested that Sam leave off his tee and just wear his button up shirt and now, he knew why as Dean unbuttoned it and started to put whipped cream at strategic places on his chest and down his stomach, even as Sam protested the act. "Dude, really!" Sam hissed quietly, but loud enough for Dean to hear as he looked around the full bar and surrounding areas, then back at Dean. "Is this really necessary?"

Sam huffed as Dean continued on, and then when he was asked to unfasten his jeans and pull the front down slightly so Dean could tuck the test tube of liquor in the front, Sam nearly had a heart attack. .... the hell!? But, he did it... begrudgingly, he still did as Dean asked him.

Sam glared, "I am so getting you back for this later, Dean. I swear to God, I will," he told him through clenched teeth. "You keep that in mind through this little fiasco of yours, whatever you do to me, I am doing back to you, only twice as bad." Sam jutted his chin up slightly, a determined look in his eye, "that's a promise."

"Can't wait," Dean grinned at the thought, laughing with other people who'd basically surrounded the table that Sam was half laying on. He was braced up on his elbows, so he could see everything, and those surrounding them were tossing out ideas and cracking jokes. Dean barely noticed them, he was too focused on his shy client.

Dean was just sliding his hand up the unmarked area of Sam's stomach when the bar tender tapped him on the shoulder. "What."

Sam's face had probably turned every shade of red. This would have been awkward enough had it just been him and Dean, his brother, but the group that had surrounded them were making it just that much worse, especially with their ever so helpful ideas.

Sam's attention went to the bartender as he tapped Dean on the shoulder, frowning slightly.

"Let Mack take over, woman in red wants you." Dean turned his head. "Oh... her."

Sam shook his head at that. No way. No dude other than Dean was coming anywhere near him. No way, not happening.

"Come on, you know..."

"Nah, he's mine." Dean dragged his gaze away.

Sam started to feel a little better about it after Dean claimed him as his and didn't take off after whatever woman they were talking about.

"Well at least go to her after, you know you can't afford to pass up thousand dollar tips."

Sam swallowed and looked from the guy to Dean. Don't go, don't go, don't go. You can't leave me here.

Dean just nodded, but wasn't really listening. "Move out of the way," he put his arms wide to make space for himself and then he climbed on the table, arms and legs straddling Sam's body.

Sam dropped back against the table gazing up at his brother and licked his lips. "Remember, twice as bad." Sam told him softly, though loud enough he would hear it, but not likely anyone else. Sam swallowed nervously, waiting for what came next.

"I'm counting on it, Sammy." In full view of everyone, Dean slanted his mouth over Sam's and kissed him, barely registering the chanting. When he pulled up, he dipped his finger in some cream, brushed it over Sam's lips, then used it as an excuse to lick. "Mmm... good sampler."

Sam hadn't been expecting the little whipped cream across the mouth kiss and was still staring dumbly at Dean as he muttered about it being a good sampler. He slowly licked his lips, still tasting the sweet cream as well as Dean's own flavor there, his eyes intent on his brother.

The bar tender passed him the liquor filled testube, and he made a great show of warming it between his hands before lodging it down Sam's boxers. A mischievous glint entered his eyes, and he turned around bodily, so he was still on the table, but his head was pointing toward Sam's feet. When he finally reached Sam's boxers, his groin would be over Sam's mouth, and that made him all sorts of happy.

Sam frowned as Dean turned around. Well, he hadn't been expecting this.

The instant he dipped his head down, the chanting started again. He wasn't kidding, he knew how to use his tongue, and he didn't hold back. He licked down the center of Sam's chest, and over his nipples, sweeping whipped cream into his mouth, and making sounds of pleasure at the taste. His tongue never stopped moving, licking, pulsing against Sam's skin, forming lazy patterns along his throat and chest.

Sam drew in a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly, trying to think of something, anything other than the feel of Dean's tongue against his skin, the heat of his mouth, the brush of his lips. Closing his eyes didn't help, he tried that and all it did was make it worse, if that were possible. Okay, if he was going to be so hyper focused on what Dean was doing, he'd pay attention so he could get him back. Research, he was good at that. Yeah, that was it. New tactic. One he could get his mind to grab a hold of.

Walking forward on his hands so more of his body was above Sam, Dean reached Sam's stomach. One lick, and that washboard stomach went harder with tension. Smiling, Dean opened his mouth and started to suck cream and hot skin into his mouth, twirling his tongue and allowing it to peek out as he pulled up. He dipped his tongue along the ridges of Sam's muscles, inching closer to the prize. .

When Dean's tongue ran across his abs and he had a flash back of the massage room when Dean penetrated his navel. His stomach muscles clenched almost involuntarily as his breathing got slightly heavier. Oh hell no, he was so not going to get a damn hard on half laying on a table, his jeans open, in front of God and everyone. Research. Yeah, research. Sam bit his lip. Damn sometimes research was hard."

"Is it getting hot in here?" Dean asked, nipping with his teeth, and closing his eyes when he felt Sam's shudder. He wished Sam had taken him up on getting fucked. There was no way they were going to get to do that until at the earliest, tomorrow, because there was no way Sam was gonna win that auction. Dean had the feeling that he was gonna do a lot of imagining tonight while making love to or being made love to by the auction winner, he was pretty sure it was Sam he'd be imagining.

Walking forward more, he dragged his tongue from Sam's naval to his pubic bone, where the tip of the test tube peeked out of his shorts. He went for it, making sure to jostle Sam's cock, to touch and brush it with his mouth and nose, his face, as he tried to drag the vessel out. At the same time, he was more than aware that each time he leaned down, the heat he felt through his thin pants was Sam's face or breath, and that thought had him hard as hell again.

When he had the tube mostly out, he bent his head and deliberately kissed Sam's shaft to the catcalls surrounding them, before gripping the edge of the tube, pulliing it out, and lifting his head so the purple liquid poured down his throat. "Ahhh..." He took a breath. "Nice view."

By the time it was over, Sam was hard, despite his best efforts not to be, his hands were curled into such tight fists, it was a wonder he could get them open again and his jaw was clenched together so hard, the muscle ached. Letting out the breath Sam hadn't even realized he'd been holding, he turned his head. "You are so dead."

Hopping off the table, Dean gave Sam his hand. "You taste great."

Sam found himself smiling at Dean despite his best efforts to look disapproving.

"Dean."

"No," he answered, not even looking at the bar tender. "I have a prior engagement."

"A thousand--"

Sam looked between the bartender and Dean and frowned. "Um, aren't clients suppose to be able to enjoy themselves with the people that they pay to be with? Cause you," he looked at the bartender, "are not letting me enjoy myself at all." he shook his head. "Maybe I ought to take it up with your boss?" he tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What he said," Dean grinned, though he knew the bar tender was only trying to help him. "Sam will have a purple nurple, he's gonna need it to go through with his threat to 'give it to me twice as bad.'"

"Okay, big shot," Sam told him with a grin, taking the test tube of liquor in one hand and the can of cream in the other. Sam looked around the room for a second for a good place and pointed to an empty area by the wall. "Over there. Standing. No table stuff, just stand there."

Sam followed Dean over to the area he pointed out and the crowd seemed to move with him. Next to them sat an empty table without chairs at it and Sam sat the can of cream on there before reaching in his jacket's innner pocket and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. "Turn around," he told Dean, "Told ya, twice as bad. Turn."

"Hmm?" Dean eyed the cuffs. "Kinky." He looked down, as did everyone else who noticed his motion, and saw his pants tenting around his cock. "Twice as bad... God I hope so. He turned and put his hands behind his back.

He waited for Dean to turn and locked his wrists behind his back, pressing his body up against Dean's as he did, leaning his head down and whispering in his ear, "If you cum in your pants we can say it was the whipped cream."

Dean bit his lip. It wasn't just the thought, but Sam saying it to him, in his ear like that.

Sam pulled back then and turned Dean back around, pressing him against the wall, an evil grin on his face as he crouched in front of him and reached up, slowly unzipping the zipper of Dean's pants, his eyes locked with Dean's. Sam slid the test tube in, twirling it and sliding it along the side of Dean's shaft in his pants before zipping the zipper up just slightly to hold it in place.

Dean sucked his breath in, swallowing as he felt Sam's hand brush over his cock. Those innocent hazel eyes had no idea how much he wanted a little extra pressure right about now. Or how likely it was that if he weren't cuffed, he would have pushed Sam's hand down to get some relief.

Sam pulled up to his full height then and reached for the whipped cream can, shaking it and bringing it to Dean's chest to paint along his neck, down the center of his chest, around his nipples, downward to his waist, then made an arrow shape pointing down so that the sides of the arrow hit Dean's sides. Satisfied with his artwork, Sam put the can back on the table and took a deep breath, lacing his fingers together he cracked his knuckles as he grinned at Dean, then stepped forward. Placing his hands flat against the wall on either side of Dean, he leaned in and started to lick at Dean's neck slowly, sucking in skin and nipping, before releasing and moving on to the next spot.

As the cool liquid stuck to his skin, Dean looked down, amused at the arrow. He was about to comment when the words died in his throat. Sam stood so fucking close, his mouth near his throat, his body just a few inches away, it was just the way Dean handled clients during a lap dance. He didn't give them personal space, invading it, making sure they were aware of him at every second. Well he was hella aware of Sam.

The instant Sam sucked on his tender skin, heat shot through Dean. He didn't bother to hide his groan, or his pleasure. "Mmmm... yeah.... God yeah," he said, his head thrashing from side to side. The cuffs cut into his wrists as he unconsciously tried to pull them apart. God yeah.

Sam made his way slowly around Dean's neck, even sucking gently on the skin over his Adam's apple. He pulled his head up for a moment, hazel locking with green as Sam ran his tongue around his lips cleaning away the sticky cream, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as Dean watched.

His mouth burned. Needing, wanting a real kiss, Dean chased Sam's mouth with his. The best he did was to brush against Sam. Then Sam's mouth had slipped away, down his body.

Leaning in again Sam moved lower, tongue flicking and licking down the center of Dean's chest, gathering whipped cream and swallowing it before moving on to a nipple and circling it only to suck the nub into his mouth and nip it, pulling back slightly before releasing, then running his tongue across Dean's chest to it's twin and doing the same.

Everywhere Sam's tongue laved and teased him, Dean felt flames licking his skin. "More," he whispered low, writhing slightly, trying to press himself against the heat of Sam's mouth. "Mmmm... Sam." He took a gulp of air, and pressed himself back into the wall just so he didn't struggle with the cuffs again.

Raising his head, Sam smirked at him, hazel locking with green for a moment, before he lowered his head, slowly bending his knee as he made his way lower, his tongue working it's way to Dean's side and licking along his ribs, nipping the tender skin, then back toward his abs and down.

So different, so different from the shy man he'd had under him, Dean could hardly believe it. He squirmed as Sam's tongue tortured his sides. He held his breath, waiting... waiting for him to suck again, and each time he did, Dean's cock pulsed with need.

Finally, once Sam had gotten all the cream, he made his way to the crotch of Dean's pants and slowly slid the test tube into his mouth, pulling back on the tube as he looked up at Dean and slid the tube in deeper again, then pulled the tube out and tilted his head back letting the liquor run down his throat swallowing it all, before he reached up and took the test tube from between his lips and lowered his head.

"Oh God," Dean's head slammed into the wall when Sam pushed and pulled the glass vessel against his cock. Between the physical stimulation, at the sight of Sam drinking, a bit of the liquor escaping his lips, Dean knew he was close to coming in his pants. He should be used to this, hell he'd teased Sam worse than this when he'd been dancing, but now.... Maybe it was because he had no control over it, but all he knew was that he was painfully hard.

Grinning at his brother, Sam pulled up, stepping in close to Dean and reached down, his hand on Dean's zipper. "I win." He whispered, as he slowly slid the zipper back up.

"You win," Dean agreed, breathing hard. "Oh God... I need a blow job. Fucking get these things off my wrist," he begged, "Almost came. Still might."

Sam smiled as he cupped Dean's face and leaned in, "It would be no more than you deserved," he told him softly before slanting his mouth over Dean's and kissing him deeply, trapping his tongue and sucking it hard, then moving his mouth on it, before letting go and fucking Dean's mouth with his own tongue. Pulling back a few moments later, Sam took a deep breath and nodded, "Turn around."

"You gotta come back on role play night. Cops and robbers," Dean said thickly. His gaze was still locked on Sam's mouth as he turned around, eventually losing sight of it. "You will, won't you?"

Sam unfastened the cuffs and stashed them back in the inside pocket of his jacket, not answering Dean's question. If things went the way he hoped. Neither one of them would be here then. But, he wasn't going to get into that with Dean. "So, when is the auction gonna start? I need to run out to your, uh, I mean my car and get the other credit cards."

Dean frowned. Yeah he should be used to clients who professed undying interest but never came back, it was just that Sam hadn't struck him as one of those. "Don't waste your money, you can't compete." Putting his arm behind Sam, he walked him to the bar. "Two more purple nurples." Turning to look at Sam, he fought against the need to straddle him, make him take care of what he'd started. "They'll come get me fifteen minutes before."

Sam frowned, "Come get you? For what? Wait..." he shook his head, "I don't think I wanna know." I would say I'll probably gouge my eyes out or shove red hot pokers in my ears but hell, I've seen and heard it all now. God, I am so going to hell....

He opened his mouth, then shut it. Though he wasn't quite sure why Sam didn't want to hear it, he wasnt' going to talk about it if that was the case.

"Why do you keep saying for me not to try to do this? Do you not want me to win a night with you? I mean, cause dude, nothing says we gotta do anything if that's the problem."

"Hmm? What do you mean... you buy me, you do something with me. Do I look like a fucking wallflower," Dean huffed, remembering very clearly how he'd smarted when it looked like Sam didn't want that 'happy moment' from him. "Someone who thinks an $18 dollar trip is too much shouldn't be spending thousands on one night." As the bartender approached, Dean smiled, "then again, I am worth it. So if you can't wait until tomorrow to have me, then do it. Hoc everything, get the money you need and buy me."

Sam quirked a brow, "They interested in '67 mint condition Impala's?" It was low, but Dean so deserved it for that line.

"You got a 67 Impala?" Dean got a wistful look on his face. "I'd... I'd like to see it. Maybe you could drive up to the valet sometime." He was about to ask a hundred other questions about it when the bartender reached them.

Sam nodded, "I do." It's black, but I was thinking of painting it pink. Nah, that was just too cruel...


Sam took a drink of the purple nurple the bartender brought over to them and looked over at Dean. He still looked like he belonged to the racoon family. "One thing, if I win you... you wash off the batman mask. Deal?"

"You don't like the eyeliner." He shrugged. "Some people think it's sexy. Especially women stuck in the eighties. I'll wash it off before the auction." He was still damned sure that after it, he wasn't going to see Sam again. And Sam had neatly avoided promising to come back tomorrow. He hardly ever felt low, but all of a sudden, here he was ... He pushed his drink over to Sam. "They're here, I gotta go. Goodbye." Slanting his mouth over Sam's, he gave him a slow, lingering kiss, then lifted his head and wiped his mouth with his thumb.

Do I look like a thirty something woman to you? Sam ran his finger around the rim of his glass as he thought about the amount of money he had and hoped like hell it was enough. When Dean suddenly announced he had to go, Sam looked up slightly startled. "They are? Wh-?" he looked around and spotted the men in suits standing off to the side. He sighed softly, feeling a knot growing in his stomach before Dean slanted his lips over his and then everything seemed better... for a little while.

Dragging his gaze away, Dean started to walk toward some of the suits, trying to identify... ease the tightness in his stomach.

Sam watched Dean go until he couldn't see him anymore then downed the rest of his drink and half of Dean's before heading to the car.