Title: A Rose by Any Other Name (Would Be Just As Gay)
Word Count: 673
Disclaimer: All characters, situations, etc. belong to Eric Kripke and others.
Summary: Sam and Dean spend the night at a bed-and-breakfast. With rimming.
Author's Notes: girlmostlikely wanted rimming! So did Dean, even if he won't admit it. girlmostlikely is also behind the title.
Edit as of Feb. 12, 2010: There's also a Russian translation now, thanks to lmonombrel! It's here (on LJ) or here (off-LJ).
"Dude," Dean says, taking in the room: the lone four-poster with lacy white curtains; the pale pink paint on the walls; the floral carpet and the floral curtains and the flowers on the bedside table in a vase, fuckin' pink roses even. "This is the gayest thing I've ever seen."
"Oh yeah, and whose fault is it that we got the honeymoon suite? I don't know, maybe I'll blame the guy who had his hand on my lower back when we were checking in downstairs," Sam says.
"The guy who—aww, for cryin' out loud," Dean says. "That wasn't gay."
"Right," Sam says. "Because this whole thing isn't gay at all. Like, if I licked your ass open, that wouldn't be gay at all."
Dean was pretty hard from the moment they got out of the car, watching Sam's ass as he walked up the steps to the bed and breakfast, but that comment's all it takes before he's about to pop the button off the top of his jeans, and Sam's smirking like he's completely onto Dean, the fucker.
"But you probably don't want me doing that," Sam says. "Since it's so gay and all."
"Um, I guess I could make an exception," is about the best thing Dean can manage, but it doesn't really matter because Sam freaking lunges at him right then, half-lifts him up and Dean's on his back on the bed with Sam tearing his jeans off.
"Would it kill you to just ask for it?" Sam says, like he can't decide if he's pissed as hell or amused. "You want this, Dean. You want me to fuck your ass with my tongue, just fucking say it."
Dean doesn't say it, but he maybe moans a little, and that seems to work for Sam, because he gets Dean's pants all the way off, shoving his boxers down around his ankles and then grabbing Dean around the middle and flipping him over, and Dean can't help it: he's most of the way to all fours anyway, so he goes for it, gets on his knees and grabs onto the comforter, pushing his ass up.
"Fuck, Dean, do you have any idea what you look like right now?" Sam says, breathing down on Dean's ass, and Dean can't help squirming and panting a little, because Sam's mouth is right there, and then Sam gets his hands on Dean's ass and digs his fingers in, spreading Dean's ass wide, and licks all the way down to his hole—and stops.
"If you're gonna be a tease right now, I will end you," Dean says.
"You mean you actually want this, Dean? You want me to lick your ass?"
"Fuck you, you know I do," Dean grinds out. "Just fuckin'—fuck," that's Sam's tongue, sliding in hot and wet and licking around, fucking in and out of Dean's ass, Sam's thumbs dragging over Dean's muscles and opening him wider, and everything condenses down into sensation centered around Sam's tongue, the slickness and the heat. Dean's panting out something that might be words but he doesn't even know what he's saying, and the moment Sam gets a hand on his cock Dean shoots all over the bedspread. Sam pulls his tongue out slowly but doesn't move away immediately, keeps his mouth pressed to Dean's ass—and then Dean realizes.
"Are you friggin' smiling against my ass?" Dean says.
"I can't even believe how much you love this," Sam says.
Dean's about to think of a really awesome comeback, but then Sam continues, "Almost as much as you love it when I fuck you," and any chance of comebacks pretty much dies with that.
After Sam's done fucking him into the mattress, Dean's pretty sure he's not going to be able to move for a week. He sort of doesn't mind. And if he ends up spooning against Sam's back when they go to sleep, slinging an arm over Sam's stomach, well, he just came twice. He's pretty sure he can blame it on the orgasms.