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Sam's been grumpy lately. He’s morose, testy, pissed even, if Dean’s willing to go a few words further. Dean would kid him about getting up on the wrong side of the bed but Sam slept in his own room with the door closed last night so he’s got no fucking idea how his brother moped his feet onto the floor. He’s also got no idea if Sam actually slept. There’s a haggard darkness around his eyes that suggests a long, restless stretch of staring into the dark while tiny whirling buzzsaws slice and dice your psyche. Wait, that might actually be more Dean’s thing, but he’s sure Sam has a similar routine for when things get to be too much. Well, there are ways to improve his mood, but he’s got to work his way up to them. Sucking Sam’s cock when he’s surly doesn’t always end up being as cathartic for him as Dean would like. Or as cathartic as Sam would like, probably, which is really more important. So, first things first.
The coffee pot blurps as the last of the water gurgles through the filter. Dean glances across the kitchen to where Sam has staked a claim in front of the refrigerator, bent low as he cases the shelves for something edible for breakfast. Dean’s tongue pokes through his lips at the sight of Sam’s ass just hanging out there so invitingly, but if he even makes a tiny proprietary move now it could very easily derail anything he might try to soothe the savage Sam later on. He contents himself with a semi-sharp slap to Sam’s ass cheek and grins as Sam whirls on him with a growl.
“You’re letting all the cold air out, Sammy.” Dean doesn’t back up in the face of Sam’s glare. “Go sit your ass down and I’ll make you some breakfast.”
Sam makes a show of rubbing his butt, but drops into a seat at the table, nostrils flaring at the aroma of coffee coming from the steaming mug Dean’s sets down in front of him. Milk and sugar follow and Dean even roots around in the back of the fridge to unearth a bottle of french vanilla creamer Sam picked up who the hell knows when ago. Sam looks at it doubtfully before opening it to take a good whiff.
“You think this is still good?”
“Dunno,” Dean says with a shrug. “Just pour it in and if it comes up in clumps I’ll get you another cup.”
“Yeah, no.” Sam reaches for the milk but Dean pulls it back out of his reach.
“Well, let me be your knight in shining creamer tasting armor.” Dean ignores the eyeroll Sam sends his way. He's got a cast iron stomach and a little curdled girly creamer won't faze him any. Popping the top he lifts the container toward his mouth but Sam's not going to use it if there's any backwash because he's a damn princess and he's got a better idea anyway. Dean pours some into his cupped hand instead. Slowly, his eyes never leaving Sam's, he raises his hand to his mouth and languidly laps the creamy liquid from his palm. He moves to his fingers next, wrapping his lips around them and humming enthusiastically as he slides them over his tongue- to let Sam know it's safe to ruin his perfectly good coffee with overly sweet milk products of course.
Sam shifts in his seat, mouth relaxing into the slightest hint of a smile. "I'm guessing it's drinkable," he says. "Either that or you're trying to seduce me right here at breakfast."
"Wouldn't be the first time." Dean waggles his eyebrows. "But yeah, go ahead and pour that crap in."
"Mmmmm." Sam takes a sip of his coffee and closes his eyes. "Good coffee, Dean."
Dean pours himself a cup, black, pops a few slices of bread into the toaster and settles in across from his brother. "So," he decides to say, because Sam didn't seem totally opposed to being seduced, "will a little seduction get you out of this funk you've been in? It seems everything's been rubbing you the wrong way lately."
Sam snorts and a little more tension leaves his shoulders. "Very smooth technique there, Romeo. Subtle." He shakes his hair out of his face and almost smiles. "You gonna rub me the right way?"
"If you're up for it." The toaster pops and they both ignore it.
"Oh, I'm getting there." Sam pushes his chair back from the table and when Dean stands up he can see the outline of Sam's dick chubbing up in his sweatpants.
Dean's naked under his dead guy robe and the press of Sam's dick against his as he straddles his brother's lap gets his own motor revving. He wraps a hand behind Sam's head and pulls him into a kiss, slipping his tongue between Sam's lips and heroically not recoiling as the taste of french vanilla creamer rolls over his taste buds. Sam's hips are twitching up beneath him so Dean slides his free hand into his brother’s pants to cradle the warm, thick flesh inside. Sam moans against his mouth as Dean slowly works his hand down Sam's burgeoning shaft to cup his balls.
"This the right way to rub?" Dean murmurs, running his thumb over the head of Sam's cock before speeding up the motion of his hand. Sam's rocking up into his grip and a wordless, gasping nod is the only response.
Dean slides off his brother’s lap to kneel between his thighs. "Lift up," he says and slides Sam's sweatpants down before tossing them aside. He’s motionless for a moment, just taking in the sight of Sam’s cock, full and gorgeous, and his mouth waters. “Put your feet on the table.” He’s a little surprised when Sam does, but legs up, spread wide and with all of him exposed is a really good look for him and Sam knows what it does to his brother. "So fucking beautiful, Sammy," he murmurs before licking across the head of his brother's dick and suckling it into his mouth. He can't take it all, Sam's just too damn huge for that, but he takes it as deep as he can, his hand still working the length of the shaft still exposed. He twists and rubs, rolling Sam's balls in his hand before moving back up as Sam bucks against him. Dean pops the top of the lube he's kept warm in his pocket (this was his plan all along, in some form, after all) and slicks up his fingers. Gently probing Sam's hole he hums contentedly against his brother's flesh as Sam moans above him. Dean's hard enough to pound nails himself but this is for Sam and there's a good chance when Sam comes he'll follow right along anyway. He chances a look up and Sam's eyes are wide and dark, face flushed. He's so fucking gorgeous and Dean swirls his tongue as he bobs on Sam's dick and gets back to business. Slowly he slides one slicked up finger into Sam's ass, and then another. Sam's thighs are quivering, rock solid above Dean's shoulders but he keeps his feet in place as Dean's fingers find his sweet spot and drag over it, deliberately slow.
"Fuck, Dean," Sam's panting above him, thrusting into Dean's mouth and onto his fingers in rhythm.
He's close, Dean can feel it, and with one last pass of his tongue, Sam yells out and grips the back of Dean's head, and he's held in place while is mouth is flooded with Sam's release. He swallows as much as he can, but the thick liquid spills out of his mouth and down his chin and his thighs are painted white as he comes from the sheer volume of heat that is his brother. He wipes his fingers across his dripping chin and watches Sam's eyes as he slurps them clean. Sam's eyes are dark with pleasure and exhaustion and Dean thinks maybe he can get some sleep now. Grabbing a dish towel, he wets it up and cleans Sam carefully before pulling his sweatpants back on. He wipes himself down too before standing up and cocking an eyebrow at his brother.
"That rub the right spots?"
Sam yawns and grins at his brother. "Every single one."
"C'mon." Dean pulls Sam to his feet. "I think it's nap time."
"Yeah." Sam rolls his shoulders. "I could sleep."
Dean steers him down the hallway but when they get to Sam's room he just keeps on going until he falls onto his side of Dean's memory foam mattress. He's asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow and Dean crawls in beside him. He didn't sleep well last night with Sam in a different room either. When they wake up, they can move on to lunch.