Giving In To Sam
Giving In To Sam
Giving In To Sam
Dean wriggles in his chair as he tries in vain to get comfortable. He wonders, not for the first time, why the hell he's doing this? Why he's become so comfortable with letting Sam make his decisions for him? He's never done anything like this before, and he can't quite understand why he's letting it happen now.
It hadn't sounded so hard when Sam had spoken to him this morning, had told him he wasn't allowed to use the bathroom, 'til Sam came to fetch him at the end of the day. He'd phrased it like a challenge, and Dean's never been one to back down from one of those.
Eight hours later and he's going out of his mind. His bladder's been full since lunch, and he's aching with the need to take a piss. It hurts more than he'd thought it would, and there's no way he can get any work done, when he's having to use everything he has to keep his dick under control and stop himself from pissing his pants.
There's nothing keeping him here other than Sam's softly spoken order and his own need to obey. The bathroom's just a few steps away down the hall, and the only thing stopping him from heading there is his own fucked up mind. Almost from the moment they met Sam Wesson has done nothing but fuck with his head, turning his well-ordered life upside down.
He's breaking rules all over the place, making choices that he knows are screwing up his future, but he just can't bring himself to stop. There's something about Sam that presses buttons he didn't even know he had. Something that gets him go along with every insane plan he comes up with, and makes him want to do whatever it takes to make Sam happy.
It's almost six when Sam finally shows up in his office doorway, and Dean's so relieved to see him he almost whimpers with joy. He's been scared to move at all for the last hour or so, sure that if he does he'll wind up pissing himself.
There's a smug look on Sam's face when he sees the way Dean's holding himself, the way he's squirming in his seat; getting more desperate by the second. "Sam, please. I need…" his voice trails off, he's too embarrassed to finish the sentence, and prays that Sam doesn't make him.
"My God, you did it. Held it all in for me, didn't you?" Sam's beaming now, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning, "Can't believe you managed to hold it all day."
"You told me to," His voice sounds petulant, but he can't help it, he hates that Sam didn't think he'd do it. Though Dean isn't sure what upsets him more, the idea that he couldn't do it, or that Sam thinks he wouldn't do as he was told.
"I know I did baby, and I'm so proud of you, so fucking proud." And then Sam's right there, leaning over him, pressing their lips together in a searing kiss. He's got one strong hand wrapped around Dean's neck, and the other drifts lower, trailing down Dean's chest, coming to rest just above his cock.
When Sam presses down the pressure is almost too much for Dean to take and he wrenches his mouth away from Sam's, and tries to pull his hand away. "God Sam, don't, please, I have to go now, I can't take this any longer."
"Okay baby, lets get you out of here." Sam helps him to his feet and Dean leans against him as they walk the short distance to the bathroom. His hands are trembling with the strain of keeping his body under control, and when they finally make it inside, he can't quite mange to work the fastenings on his pants.
Sam bats his hands away, pops each button carefully open, then reaches inside and pulls Dean's aching cock free. He hisses at the touch, wanting nothing more than to spill right away, but he manages to stop himself just in time. He's waiting for Sam to let go, to move out of the way so that he can finally relieve the terrible pressure.
But Sam doesn't let go, he steps around Dean's body, crowding in behind him, stretching out his arm to keep a firm hold on Dean's dick. Then he feels Sam's other hand tugging the plug free of his ass, and hears the sound of Sam's zipper being drawn down.
"Such a good boy for me, waited so long, it's nearly time, just a little longer," Sam's whispering in his ear, but Dean's too far gone to really understand anything he's saying. He feels the blunt head of Sam's cock pressing at his entrance, and then it's sliding inside, one long hard stroke, giving him no time to adjust to the burn.
His body jerks and he feels the first few drops of piss spill across Sam's fingers. "God, I'm sorry, didn't mean to," he's blushing with shame, and he's sure Sam's going to walk away.
"It's all right baby, just let it go, let it all out for me," Sam punctuates his words with hard thrusts into Dean's ass, and there's no way he can stop himself now. There's piss pouring out of him, splashing over Sam's hands, and he's practically crying with relief.
Sam isn't giving him any chance to recover, just keeps pounding his ass, nailing his prostate with every stroke, and Dean's aching again, this time with need, he comes almost embarrassingly quickly, spilling over Sam's hand once again.
Sam keeps going, thrusting harder and deeper, pulling Dean's head back, twisting him round so that they can kiss again. A few minutes later Sam groans into his mouth, and Dean can feel his cock spurt wave after wave of come into his ass.
He's wrung out, too off kilter to do anything, so he lets Sam straighten their clothes and lead him down to his car. He can't even bring himself to object when Sam bundles him into the passenger side, while he takes Dean's keys and gets behind the wheel.
He still isn't sure why Sam wanted him to do that, but he feels good about making Sam happy, and he's learning that he quite likes doing as he's told. Just so long as the orders have pay-offs like tonight that is.