Sam shifts from his position over Dean’s lap, his brother seated on the bottom bunk with his legs spread wide to accommodate most of Sam’s body.
“We needed the cigarettes to–”
A harsh slap to his ass forces his mouth shut and his body to tighten.
“Aw, don’t clench up on me now, sweetheart. We’re about to get to the good part,” Dean crows, rubbing his hands across Sam’s welted ass.
Sam tries not to touch the dirty floor of the cell Deacon allowed them have. His hands squeeze at Dean’s ankle to keep his face off the floor and his orange jumpsuit is bunched around his feet, leaving him naked.
Lube that’s more Vaseline-like is smeared over his hole, creamy and thick.
“Feels cheap, De,” he complains, his face twisted in discomfort.
A finger, unforgiving, slides into him despite not being the type of Sam-approved lube he likes. It has to be more liquid-y than clumpy, otherwise, Dean is sent back to the store.
“I know it ain’t the usual stuff I buy for your princess ass, but this is jail and I got the best I could from the infirmary,” Dean scolds, slathering lube all up inside his baby brother.
“But I don’t–”
Dean pulls out and hits his him again, tearing a sob out of his throat.
“Daddy taught you better than that, didn’t he?” Dean warns in a low growl, teasing around his sticky rim.
Sam muffles his answer against Dean’s leg, thrashing around when he gets two fingers forced into the cute pucker that winks at him every time Sam moves.
“Can’t hear you, sweetcheeks.”
“Yeah, you did,” Sam groans like he’s in pain.
“So shut up and let yourself get fucked the way I taught you.”