awaiting-my-escape: How about dean goes out on a case and gets drugged… he’s okay and completes the mission, but when he comes back he realizes that it had some unexpected effects … (viagra-like effects)
When they get back to the motel, and Dean still feels off–twitchy and too warm. “Okay, that witch definitely did something to me,” Dean gasps, clutching at his brother’s arm. “Sam. I don’t feel right.” Dean’s staring at the dip in Sam’s shoulder blades, the way the bones are straining against his shirt. Sam turns, a concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows. He clutches Dean back, fumbling a huge hand around his hipbone and–okay. Sam doesn’t usually touch him there. Dean feels the intense stirring in his gut, and all the blood he didn’t bleed out back at the cemetery goes straight to his dick. He’s hard and aching in two seconds flat, and Sam’s hand is still there.
Dean likes being touched, he does (and he only dreams about being touched by Sam), but he’s never popped a boner just from Sam’s hands. Maybe after excessively thinking about those hands, but never–never like this.
Sam looks confused, and there’s a light flush spreading across his cheeks. “Dean?” He looks too warm and gorgeous in the dim lamp lights, mouth open a little and staring at Dean like Dean’s only imagined he would. It fucks him up, honestly.
“Maybe a lust spell?” Sam mumbles, and oh. He feels it, too. Dean looks down and fights down his groan at the sight of Sam’s huge dick straining against his jeans.
“I mean, I always want to suck your dick, so,” Dean says, fumbled and slow, like he’s drugged. Fuck. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“Uh-huh,” Sam says, and now he’s staring at Dean’s mouth. “Okay.”
“Yeah. Will you? Suck my dick? Right now.”
“Uh. Yeah.” Dean’s a little bit too eager to get on his knees, and Sam moans, buries his fingers in Dean’s hair as soon as he’s close enough. “Yeah, Sammy.”