Title: Shades
Author: kbk
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Pairings: Dean/others, Dean/Sam.
Summary: Dean is kind of a slut.

Dean stumbles in at around eight o'clock the next morning, wearing those shades again, the ones that only appear when he's spectacularly hungover or been spectacularly well laid. His lips are very red.

Sam doesn't bother glaring, or questioning; he tilts back in the chair, and asks, "Have fun?"

"Oh, yeah." Dean laughs a dirty little laugh. "The girl from the bar..."

"Sally."

"Um. If you say so. Anyway, she had this friend. And her friend had a boyfriend, and he had a friend, and his boyfriend had another friend, and. Well. We had a party."

Sam isn't going to ask. He tells himself that very firmly. Apparently he doesn't listen, because his mouth opens. "You mean an orgy?"

"Well, if you're gonna be all technical about it. There were. Um." Dean sways where he's standing, and probably blinks very hard behind his shades. "Three girls. Five guys. And me, of course." Dean's tongue slides lazily across his lower lip. "And I went down on... I think, all of them. Oh, except the guy with the camera."

A vivid image floats into Sam's head, of perhaps one day finding his brother featured on an amateur porn site. The jolt of electricity down his spine is far from unpleasant. "You suck dick?" he asks.

"Well. Yeah."

"Oh."

"I guess I was the party favor. I mean, they were all, and I was. Mm. And I came, like, four times? Five? My balls are empty, man." Dean starts toward the bathroom, a liquid dip and glide in his step. "Also," he says, "there were these..."

The sound of running water is the next thing Sam hears, and he uses the minute of grace to ever-so-carefully set his chair back down on four legs and shift away from the desk.

"These little pills." Dean leans against the doorframe, water shining on his face, the shades resettled at an improbable angle.

"Oh, right." Sam nods. That's why Dean is telling him these things, because he's high. It should be a reassuring thought.

"Also, this one girl had a strap-on. It was purple. And sparkly."

When Sam was younger, he wished that he could close his ears the same way he can close his eyes. It's a talent that would come in useful now.

"She wanted to fuck me, but I was rocking the oral thing. I only fucked Silvie, and that was only once."

"Sally."

"Whatever."

"She wasn't too disappointed?"

Dean straightens up - for a given value of straight - and, possibly, glares. "Are you saying I'm a bad fuck?"

"I..." Sam swallows that comment back, and his next reaction as well. "The girl with the strap-on. She wasn't upset about not fucking you?"

Dean slides back into his slouch. "Nah, I sucked it, she liked that. Then, um. Bre... Bi... One of the guys. I dunno. He offered."

"You suck dick," Sam says again, nonplussed.

Dean hums his agreement, a low note that Sam can't help labelling 'lascivious'.

"I didn't know that."

"Oh. Huh."

Sam shifts uncomfortably. He vaguely wants to cover his bulging crotch, but that would only draw Dean's attention. His mind is unfortunately blank of any conversational tangent that isn't prurient or pornographic.

Dean sniffs. Tilts his head. "You want me to demonstrate?"

"What?"

Three steps are enough to bring Dean halfway to the desk. "My dick-sucking. As in, yours."

Sam bites his lip. It's a bad idea. It's a really, really, horribly bad idea. "Yeah, OK." He stands up and shuffles back to lean against the wall.

Dean sinks easily to his knees, his hands making short work of Sam's belt and fly. He pauses, startled, when Sam lifts the shades off his face and tosses them aside, but then he just grins and keeps going.

"Mmm." Dean inhales. "Latex sucks, but I'm not stupid, y'know? This..." His tongue slips out, a quick wet touch to Sam's skin.

Sam gulps. He doesn't want to sort out the tangle of emotions in his gut, doesn't want to know what words are caught in his throat. "Dean," is all that he says, all that he knows is true. His brother looks up at him, green eyes gleaming. Sam sees the remnants of kohl smeared under his eyes, and finds another easy truth. "You're fucking beautiful."

Dean blushes. Dean. Blushes. Then he pushes Sam's hips against the wall with one hand, wraps the other around the base of Sam's dick, and proceeds to utterly blow Sam's mind. His strong hands and his red lips and his wicked tongue and the flush still tinting his cheekbones make Sam wish for a new language, because he can't possibly praise them enough in any of the ones he knows, but above and beyond that...

It's Dean. His beloved big brother, sucking his cock with abandon, with enthusiasm, with consummate skill, and Sam doesn't even care where that skill comes from, because it's Dean. And Dean is everything.

And then Dean's competent hands move to Sam's ass and encourage him to move, to fuck into Dean's mouth, and Sam does, lets his hips work fast and dirty and watches Dean take it.

It's too good. Sam sobs out his completion embarrassingly quickly, and slumps back against the wall, his heart racing.

Dean sits back on his heels and stretches his arms above his head. "Man. You're driving this morning, I have got to get some sleep."

Sam blinks dumbly down at him. Dean blinks back. They blink at each other for a few long moments.

"And tonight," Dean says, glancing away, "when I'm not, y'know. We could... demonstrate some more?"

Sam licks his lips. "Yeah," he says. "We could do that."

He's looking forward to it.