Graveyard Digger, Coffin Case Sinner

Wake Up On Your Knees

[tags: smut. porn. other synonyms for smut & porn ;-)]

"You know I'm letting you win, right?"

Sam threw a smile with his words at the woman across the pool table, and she let out a throaty laugh.

"If you say so, sugar," she purred, lining up her next shot. He ran an appreciative glance over her – he was Dean's but he was also 18 years old, and he could appreciate a nice body and pretty face. She raised her eyes to his and winked at him, and he chuckled and shook his head.

They were headed away from Arizona, where they had spent three days holed up in some small-town motel room. Dean had fulfilled that driving darkness that so frequently burned within him while there, come back to the room far less twitchy and more himself, and they had departed the next morning. 

Now they were headed east (no particular destination, just east), and had made a pit-stop here for some food, fuel, and a couple of beers. He had shot two games of pool with Dean before being challenged by the girl at the table with him now.

His gaze flicked to Dean, whom was leaning against the back wall, watching them. Pool girl's chatty friend was next to him, talking him up. The man was almost-obviously ignoring her (she hadn't caught on yet, it seemed); instead his eyes were fixed on the girl at the pool table, a scowl etching his features and his arms crossed over his chest.

Sam watched his brother watch the girl, and felt that familiar warmth pooling in his stomach. There was a body and a face he could appreciate. His brother was gorgeous, and half the time Sam couldn't tear his eyes away from him. It was half the reason he kept missing his shots when it was his turn at the table – he kept getting distracted by Dean. That possessiveness written all over the older man's features, etched in his stance, made Sam want to pounce him on the spot.

His brother's green gaze flicked to him, and the scowl faded. Dean ran his eyes over Sam, slowly; the smirk the other man gave him made Sam want to melt where he stood. 

He blinked and tore his eyes from the man as he heard the girl's voice near his shoulder,
"Your turn, sugar."

His focus was completely gone from the game now, all of it on his brother and the way the man watched him. He finally shook his head, gave the girl a smile and conceded, "I know when I'm beat."

She moved close, raised a hand to brush it down his chest, and offered, "I can give you some tips if you're interested. Back at my place." She giggled at the flush that touched his cheeks, pouted when he declined, telling her they had a long drive in the morning, and sashayed away, her chatty friend in tow.

Sam turned to Dean as the man crossed toward him: he saw the clenched fists, the way his brother's gaze was locked on the girl walking through the almost-empty bar. He recognized that look: his brother's eyes were locked on a potential target. He moved in front of the other man and caught his arm, halting him.

"Dean, she was just flirting."

"Yeah, with what belongs to me," the other growled, features practically a snarl.

Sam laughed softly, "You can't beat down every person who flirts."

"Wanna bet?" The threat in the words were real as Dean started to push by him, eyes locked on the departing girl again.

"Dean."

The soft-spoken word drew his brother's eyes to him again, and Sam pressed against him.
"She's just a girl, Dean. She doesn't mean anything to me." The green gaze flicked to the girl before returning to him, and he leaned in to brush his mouth against his brother's jawline. The older man's attention was focused fully on him now as he continued,