Practice Makes Perfect

Dean spread a hand over his bare stomach and eyed the mirror hovering above him.

“Are you sure about this, Sam?” he asked. He bent one leg so his foot was flat on the bed and turned in time to see Sam’s jeans and boxers hit the floor. “Nice.”

Sam gave him a smirk and glanced up at the mirror. “You’re the one who said I should practice controlling my powers.”

“This isn’t what I meant,” Dean said. Sam looked down at him steadily until Dean grinned, “Okay, it is. Sort of. Sex was definitely involved, but I didn’t think I’d be taking my life into my hands.”

“My hands, actually,” Sam said.

“Yeah, that makes me feel better.” The mirror dipped and Dean flinched. “Sam…”

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, twisting until he faced Dean. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think I could handle it.”

“And if you’re wrong, I get a face full of glass.”

“Not to mention seven years bad luck,” Sam said, grinning.

“For a guy trying to get laid, you’re being a real smart ass.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your delicate sensibilities,” Sam said.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Why did I agree to this again?” he asked, though he knew why.

Sam the night before, his tongue lapping hot and slow along the underside of Dean’s cock, his long fingers brushing Dean’s balls, light and careful, and then his cheek pressed into the sweaty place between Dean’s thigh and groin as he whispered, “It’ll be hot, so hot. Fuck, Dean.” It was the way that Sam went wild against him at the mere thought of it, coming into Dean’s hand with a hoarse cry.

Dean blinked away that memory to find Sam looking at him with a knowing expression.

“Get out of my head, you asshole.”

“Practice,” Sam said.

“Cheating,” Dean replied, shifting his hips on the bed. “Are you going to do something, or should I grab a book? Any time you’re ready, little brother.”

“Like you have a book.”

“One of yours then,” Dean said as Sam pushed up onto the bed and straddled Dean’s waist. Dean’s bent leg fell open and he grinned. “Yeah, there we go.”

“I like to make you wait. You’re hot when you’re pissed off,” Sam said, palming Dean’s shoulders and leaning down to kiss him.

“Dude, that explains so much about our relationship,” Dean said as he tilted his head up.

Sam licked into his mouth before pulling back. “Look what I’ve learned how to do.”

He inched down Dean’s body, and Dean propped himself up on his elbows to watch his descent.

Sam stopped eye level to Dean’s dick and glanced up at him from beneath his bangs. “Remember, no hands.”

Dean’s dick gave a short, hopeful twitch at that look as Sam guided the head into his mouth. Sam licked the head gently for long seconds and Dean relaxed into the mattress even as his cock hardened from the methodical attention.

“Hate to break it to you,” Dean said, breathing carefully, “but I already knew about this particular skill - not that it isn’t…impressive.”

Sam smiled around Dean’s cock and then pulled away.

For a moment there was nothing, and then he felt it – the same warm sensation of a tongue on his dick, except now Sam wasn’t touching him.

“Oh yeah,” Dean said with a sigh, “that’s handy.”

“It’s working?” Sam asked.

“Like a charm.”

Sam grinned and stretched out on his back beside Dean. “Watch.”

Dean pulled his eyes away from Sam and up to the mirror holding steady above them. He watched as his cock jerked, growing red and swollen at the phantom feeling of slow, warm suction against the head.

“Jesus, that’s so hot,” Sam said.

“It’s fucking weird,” Dean corrected, knowing his breathless voice gave him away. Suddenly, a thought struck him. “Wait, can you do this to yourself?” One side of Sam’s mouth turned up into a sly half-grin and Dean groaned. “See, now that is hot.”

“I’ll show you sometime,” Sam said before turning over. “Keep watching,” he ordered, and Dean started when he felt another tongue lick a trail up the side of his neck.

A quick flick of his eyes showed Sam lying beside him, hands folded behind his head.

“Warn a guy before you do that,” Dean said. “Two at once, though. Nice.” Phantom teeth nipped at his collarbone. “God, Sammy,” he groaned, eyes returning to the mirror. The tongue came back, this time dipping into the sensitive skin behind Dean’s ear. Dean’s hips hitched and he watched, transfixed, as pre-come dripped sticky onto his stomach. “Right there!”

“I know,” Sam said, his reflection in the mirror turning to the side as he rested his head on his palm and watched Dean. Dean had no warning before his prostate was carefully stroked by a callused finger.

“Oh, you fuck!” Dean cried, his ass grinding shamelessly on the bed while his back arched.

Sam licked his lips and his eyes darkened as they locked on Dean’s through the reflection of the mirror. “This was such a good idea,” he murmured. “Tell me that isn’t hot.”

“Be hotter if it was you,” Dean said, gasping as his toes curled into the bed sheets. That finger rubbing his prostate, real or not, was driving him fucking nuts.

“Aw, is someone jealous that he doesn’t have any superpowers of his own?” Sam said with mock concern.

“I don’t need superpowers to make you lose it. Just a nice, long rope.” Dean felt his arousal ratchet up higher at that mental image: Sam flat on his stomach, hands tied to the headboard. Oh yeah, Dean was going to find a way to make that happen.

“Rope, huh?” Sam asked.

“Uh-huh,” Dean said, mindlessly rotating his hips.

“Would handcuffs work instead?” Sam said. Just the thought of it snapped the last of Dean’s control and he reached down. “No hands,” Sam said, and Dean fisted them into the cheap motel sheets with a growl. “Look at you.”

Dean pulled his eyes back up to the mirror. Seeing himself writhe around on the bed like an amateur porn star shouldn’t have been hot; it should have been weird. It was weird, but he had to admit that looking in the mirror and seeing nothing besides his rock hard dick and red face while still feeling Sam all over him - mouthing his cock, tonguing behind his ear, brushing his prostate - was also really fucking hot. That gentle, continuous sucking on his dick was pushing him inexorably closer to the edge. Dean licked his lips and spread his legs farther apart in a failed attempt to feel more of that sweet pressure.

“Sam, come on.” His hips thrust steadily into the air now, beyond his control, and he watched his cock twitch into the teasing mouth he could feel but not see. “Forget it,” he said, stretching his arm to take care of it himself.

“No hands,” Sam repeated, and Dean’s arm slammed down.

“You prick!” Dean gasped, hips still pumping in short, desperate jerks despite his anger as he struggled to move his arms. “I’m gonna kill you, Sammy!”

“I wonder how long it’ll take you to come like this?” Sam asked, ignoring Dean’s threats and bringing his hand down to grip his own leaking erection. “Oh yeah, that feels good – so nice and tight.”

Dean’s hips stuttered at Sam’s words and at the reflection of Sam working his dick with the hard strokes that Dean preferred on himself. He braced his heels against the bed and pushed up futilely, knowing it wouldn’t increase the pressure but unable to stop. “Fuck you.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Sam asked with a grin. “Bending me over and sinking balls deep.”

“Fuck you,” Dean repeated, lost in the image Sam’s words created.

“Pretty fixated on that, aren’t you?” Sam asked with a laugh. “You know, it’s not often that I get the upper hand with you.”

“Enjoy it while you can,” Dean said.

“Oh, I am,” Sam assured him. Dean grit his teeth at the smug satisfaction in Sam’s voice, even though he couldn’t stop his body from responding to it.

“Sam, come on, you asshole.” His head hit the pillow and he grunted in frustration.

“Keep doing that, Dean. Watch yourself come.”

Through the reflection of the mirror, Dean saw Sam reaching out, but still it didn’t prepare him for the feeling of Sam finally gripping his dick in one of his big hands. After the phantom touches of Sam’s mind, this real contact sent him over the edge in one, two, three sharp pulls.

Dean came with a shout and his body spasmed once, hard, before falling back on the bed. He had a few seconds to recover and attempt to get his breath back before Sam spoke up from beside him, his voice choked

“Help me,” he demanded, using his hand and Dean’s thigh to frantically jerk his cock.

“Why should I, you fuck?” Dean asked, but he pulled Sam across his body anyway. Slipping a newly freed hand between their bodies, he wrapped it around Sam’s wet cock.

Sam tucked his face against Dean’s collarbone and let out a shuddering gasp as Dean worked him with an expert grip.

“That’s it,” Dean soothed as his thumb circled the head of Sam’s cock. Within moments, Sam fell over the edge, their come mingling on Dean’s stomach.

Sam panted for long moments before pushing away from Dean’s body and falling next to him on the bed.

Dean closed his eyes. When he opened them, the mirror was plummeting down toward his face.

“Sam!” he cried, and the mirror stopped inches from his nose, close enough that his eyes crossed looking into it and his breath fogged the glass.

It hovered a moment before flying across the room and into its proper place attached to the bathroom door.

“Sam! Jesus fucking Christ!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“I can handle it, Dean, honest,” Dean mimicked in a high falsetto.

“I got distracted,” Sam said.

“What you mean is that I made you shoot your load hard enough to mess up that Jedi mind trick of yours.”

“You’re just pissed that I got you to beg,” Sam said, looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

“Excuse me? Beg? If you think that’s begging, I’m gonna have some real fun with those handcuffs.” Dean let his lips curl into a devious smirk. “Sleep well, Sammy. You’ll need your strength.”

LEAVE A COMMENT

Home