castalie | New SPN fic

First beta came back to me, yay! And hey, you know what? This is my tenth story since January and, okay, some people have already written three times more than that but, for me, this is huge. Last year? I wrote eight stories. Overall. And in May 2006 I'm at ten of them. That's pretty cool :-) And it'll be even better if I didn't just jinx myself and if I can write many more fics after that one! *knocks wood*

Yeah anyway, onto the fic.

Title: Carpe Diem
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4100+
Story Notes: Okay just so that we're clear, this is a shameless PWP, it has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. My reptilian brain wanted the boys to have some hot action in a club, so that's what I gave them. Also, no spoilers at all.

Thanks go to

yami_tai for the beta :-)

The club was everything Sam usually tried to avoid and everything Dean seemed to thrive on when he was in one of his moods as Sam called them: it was over-crowded, noisy, smoky and the patrons were... questionable. Despite being human - well, they seemed to be - they acted more like a pack of horny vampires than anything else. Or they just looked like vampires, as 'horny vampires' was, for all intents and purposes, an oxymoron.

Sam rolled his eyes at the sight of the dance floor, packed with sweaty bodies of undefined sex all pressed together and engaged in what looked more like an orgy than a real dance.

Of course Dean would choose that kind of club to 'relax'.

"You're thinking of killing me, aren't you?" Dean asked expectantly, smirk firmly in place.

Sam thought of ignoring him but finally decided against it; Dean would bug him until he caved in, anyway - it was best giving him the attention he wanted. Sam wasn't ready to let Dean go easy, though. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, as if he was trying to understand what he'd just been told.

"Sorry," he said loudly, enunciating the word more than necessary, "I didn't hear you. All those people fucking are making too much noise."

Dean didn't dignify him with an answer; he just rolled his eyes and pushed his brother toward a room that Sam hadn't noticed yet.

Once there, he almost sighed in relief. This was different; though you could still hear the music from outside the room, it seemed to come from afar. The new area was still a little crowded but you had room to circulate and Sam made out dark alcoves on each side where you could have the illusion of privacy if you wanted. In the middle, there were some tables, and at the back a bar. The light was dimmed enough that you could see where you were going but nothing more and the reddish and greenish tones made the area look a little other-worldly. All in all, the decor created a strange but relaxing atmosphere, which pleased Sam immediately. You'd never think you were in the same club.

"So? Still mad?" Dean asked again, though it was clear from his voice that he knew the answer.

"I'm thinking about it." The tone was supposed to be stern, but Sam was smiling.

"You do that. And I'll get us a beer in the meantime, uh?"

Sam jerked his head in the direction of one of the alcoves that had just become vacant. "I'll be over there."

Dean waved at him and found his way to the counter, his walk one of self-confidence and pure sexiness. Sam licked his lips at the sight; Dean could always get to him, even when he wasn't trying to.

He chuckled at himself; apparently the vampire wannabes on the dance floor weren't the only horny ones in the place. But after the night Dean and he had, it might not be so surprising; they certainly deserved the downtime. Even though he had been more than a bit reluctant at first, he had to admit.

After defeating the Demons of the Week, he'd had only one goal; come back to their motel room and crash, except Dean had other ideas - of course. He'd wanted to go out and have fun; he wanted to celebrate the fact that neither of them had had their heads cut off and their souls swallowed into hell. And Sam had to admit that it was as good a reason as any to go and get shitfaced for. Not that they ever could afford to get so drunk they'd need a downtime from their downtime, but it was the thought that counted.

He'd also wanted Dean to shut up; after he'd been choked by one of the demons, Dean had bitched and bitched because, apparently, getting choked was Sam's job, didn't those fuckers know that?, and it wasn't supposed to happen to him. Who would have thought demon hunting etiquette was so important to Dean? All the way back to the motel room, Sam had to listen to his brother's indignant diatribe and when they'd finally reached their destination, he had been ready to add his own fingerprints to the pale skin.

So when Dean had offered to go out, Sam had first refused then changed his mind as he realized he needed to relax too - maybe not just because of the demons but also his own brother. He'd needed to let off some steam. And from the way his mind was already loosening up at the same time as certain parts of his body were rising up, he had to admit that coming to the club hadn't been such a bad idea, after all. Not that he was going to admit it to Dean, though - he was smug enough as it is.

Sam leaned back on the wall of the little alcove, choosing to stay standing instead of sitting down; he had a better view of Dean that way and suddenly he couldn't bear the thought of losing sight of him even for a second. His cock was hardening and he smiled in anticipation. Sam knew Dean well enough to know that his brother was hoping to get lucky tonight - but he was certainly thinking that Sam would want to wait till they were back in their motel room to fuck him, the club being a little too crowded for his taste. Well, things changed and the idea of touching Dean that way, in the middle of all those other people was a real turn on; there was no way he would wait until they were back 'home'.

He watched as Dean made his way back to him through the swaying bodies of some of the patrons - no dance floor here, people just used the space as they saw fit - and smiled. He grabbed the beer that was offered to him, taking a long gulp of it, his eyes never leaving Dean's face.

If Dean decided to take Sam's silence and look as a challenge, Sam couldn't say, but he apparently decided it was time to put on a show as he went down - Sam couldn't see another word for it - on his own beer bottle. Sam narrowed his eyes at the picture Dean made; lips wrapped around the top, head threw back a little and throat offered to him in a not-so-subtle invitation. That was Dean for you, in all his fuck-me glory.

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

"Dude, if I need to spell it out, I'm doing something wrong here," Dean drawled, taking off his leather jacket and putting it on the couch with his beer.

Sam chuckled and followed his brother's lead, it was starting to get kinda hot. "I guess so."

"So," Dean asked in a teasing voice, "am I?"

"Are you what?"

"Doing something wrong here. Because, see," Dean took a step forward and ran his hand on Sam's denim clad cock, "from where I'm standing, looks and feels like I'm doing something right." He squeezed. "Really right."

Sam gasped. He grabbed Dean's wrist in a swift move, wrapping his hand around it and holding it firmly in place, it felt hot on his dick, even through the fabric. "If you were doing something wrong, you'd know."

"Yeah, I guess I would." A lazy smile curved at Dean’s lips. "You never have any qualms about telling me when you think I've screwed up, right?"

The emphasis on the 'you think' didn't escape Sam's notice but he chose to ignore the little barb. He had more pressing things to take care of: with one hand still holding Dean's against his cock, he used the other one to cradle his brother's head before grabbing the short hair and yanking Dean's head back.

Dean opened his mouth in a moan at the sudden and rough move and Sam covered it with his own, sliding his tongue inside and tasting Dean for the first time that night. He never got tired of that first taste, and the mix with beer was - quite literally - refreshing, as the drink had been pretty cold. He pressed against Dean's hand and tightened his hold on the short hair. The kiss was one of those down and dirty kisses; the ones that felt like fucking already. The ones they could never get enough of.

When they finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard. Dean licked his lips and Sam zeroed in on the sight. He shivered at the thought of his scent and taste being part of Dean now. Though it wasn't nearly enough.

He grabbed Dean's shirt and in a rapid move had them exchange places, Dean now being the one with his back against the wall; he didn't utter a sound as he was slammed against the hard surface and Sam loved how Dean just let him do this to him. Loved the idea of strong, confident Dean letting himself be manhandled and used for both their pleasure. It was an aphrodisiac all of its own.

"I didn't think the fun would start this early, I have to admit," Dean rasped, his voice reminding Sam of his neck injury, though he preferred to think the only reason why Dean sounded like that was because he was turned on.

"You shouldn't assume things all the time, man."

"I guess I shouldn't," Dean replied easily, teasing again. "Though sometimes being wrong feels damn good." His right hand reached out between his legs but Sam stopped the movement. Here again, Dean didn't try to break Sam's hold, just stared at him; looking aroused and so fucking hot Sam felt he was being consumed from the inside.

Sam leaned into Dean's personal space, getting up close and pressing him a little more against the wall, then he bent his head forward. "You haven't seen anything yet," he whispered, then proceeded to focus his attention on the zipper of his brother's jeans.

Dean moaned as Sam's hand slid inside his now opened pants and found his cock.

"Going commando again," Sam hissed, "God, you don't know what that does to me."

"Don't be so sure of that," Dean said breathlessly, he threw his head back in pleasure as Sam caressed him. He did a double take though when he felt his pants being pushed down.

"Dude," he asked, his tone showing his surprise, "what are you doing?"

"You need to ask?"

"Obviously not. I just," another gasp as Sam's big hand pushed the jeans further down then squeezed his cock roughly before stroking the length in a lazy motion, "wanted to make sure you were aware that we're in the middle of a pretty crowded bar. Does public place ring a bell?"

Sam abandoned his brother's erection for a second, he knelt and pushed the pants all the way down, running tiny kisses along the legs up to Dean's thigh on his way up. Standing again, he brushed his lips over Dean's. "Since when you do you care?"

"Since never," Dean’s voice was rough, low, making Sam shiver. His hips were rocking against Sam’s hand that was back on him now, "but I don't want your vanilla ass to feel bad tomorrow. You sulk enough at is it."

"Vanilla ass," Sam practically growled, clearly offended now. He put a knee between Dean's thighs and pushed hard, a knowing smile curving his lips as he heard Dean moan louder. "You're so gonna get it, Dean."

"I'm waiting," Dean said, defiant; eager for Sam to up the ante.

Before he could say anything else though, Sam took him in another demanding kiss, mapping the inside of his mouth. Dean's hands burrowed into Sam's shirt, fingers clutching him in a tight grip. They ground against each other roughly for a moment, their groans and moans echoing around them but getting lost in the middle of the crowded place, like they were losing themselves in each other.

"Fuck!" Dean was breathless when they pulled apart. "Public places turn you on, huh?"

"If you want to know, it's the fact that nobody here knows we’re brothers, so I can do this," he thrust against Dean in emphasis, "and this," he stroked the hard cock pressed against his own body, "and nobody gives a shit."

"I'm totally down with that." Dean's hand was caressing Sam's back under his shirt, his fingers digging into the skin.

"I bet you are."

"And baring my ass was good because…?" The last word trailed off.

"Because I have every intention of using it in a minute," Sam answered matter-of-factly.

"Shit, Sammy!" Dean slammed his head against the wall, his eyes closing at the words. "Don't say stuff like that to me, I'm gonna come and it's way too soon." He kept his eyes closed for a moment, as if to pull himself together, then he opened them slowly and stared at Sam who had a triumphant look on his face. "You really are an exhibitionist, I knew it!"

Sam looked Dean up and down; his pants pushed down to his ankles, cock hard, aroused, exposed to the world, he looked as comfortable as if he was having a cup of coffee in his living room. He frowned. "If I'm an exhibitionist, then what the hell are you?"

"A slut is the term you're looking for, dude," Dean said, smirking. He cocked his head to the side slightly. "Life is too short and too shitty to care about the dos and don'ts of social expectations. If it feels good then do it, do what you want. And right now? I want you to finish what you started."

"If you get too demanding,” Sam teased, “you might get denied." He couldn't stop the smile on his face; he felt so good right now, and it didn't happen nearly enough. He felt like he was flying a little. Fucking was just the best relaxant ever invented by mankind. That and chocolate according to women, but he'd rather eat Dean, he had to admit. He bit his lips at the thought.

Dean’s hands pulled Sam hard against him. "Living dangerously is my MO, didn't you know that?"

Another kiss, full of breathless laughter this one - and maybe it shouldn't be funny at all, but they didn't care. They decided what was worth laughing at.

Sam ran his hands down the curve of Dean's ass, gripping him possessively. Dean's own grip on his back felt good too - warm, heavy, there for the duration. "I think I've heard about that, yeah."

Dean was trailing kisses along his jaw, nipping at the skin now and then, humping against him, making all kind of good things happen to Sam's own cock, that was still imprisoned in his pants. He knew any other man would have wanted some kind of relief by now, but he reveled in the maddening torture, it only added to his pleasure.

Sam bent his head low and tasted the skin at Dean's neck, just above the pulse point. He could swear he could feel the accelerating heartbeat on his lips. "I wish I had something to-"

"Left pocket."

Sam stop worrying Dean's neck, where a new mark was appearing, and frowned, finding it hard to concentrate. "What?"

"Left pocket," Dean repeated, his eyes to his jacket, "look in the damn left pocket."

Sam turned and did as he was told and found a - well used - tube of lube. "God, Dean, what else is in there?"

"It's a big pocket."

Sam turned back and plastered himself on his brother again, kissing him roughly, gripping his head hard, reveling in the rough treatment he was receiving in return. "You're such a boy scout."

"Please, the fucking boy scouts don't have anything on me."

Sam didn’t waste his time trying to find an answer to that. He put his hands on Dean's hips and held him in a tight grip for a moment. "Spread your legs as much as you can."

Dean obeyed immediately; he was always good at doing what he was told, Sam thought. Except when he wasn't but, in bed, if you satisfied him the way he liked it, you could ask him pretty much everything and he would do it.

"Holy shit, man, you should see yourself. You look so fucking hot like that!" Sam was going to explode. Maybe wanting to wait till he jerked off wasn't such a smart idea, after all.

"Less talking and more fucking, Sam," Dean groaned.

"Fuck." Sam unzipped his pants and pushed his boxers down enough that his cock was easily accessible. He was so hard he was sure the slightest breeze would push him over the edge, and it wasn’t what he wanted. Not yet.

He fumbled with the lube and put some on his fingers.

"Don't put on too much," Dean ordered.

Sam just nodded, "Yeah. Okay." He absent-mindedly threw the tube on the couch and ran his hand between Dean’s spread thighs, then slid a finger inside him. He bit his lips as he heard Dean moan louder and felt him tremble at the intrusion.

He slid the digit in and out almost lazily at first, all the while kissing Dean. He shivered non-stop at the knowledge of what he was doing to Dean and at the sensation of Dean's hands burning him as they stroked his back, his ass, as Dean touched and mapped every inch of accessible skin. He could have palmed Sam's cock but he only ghosted his hand over it; Dean knew how much Sam loved to make it last – it was pure torture but, God, it felt so fucking good.

Sam added a second finger and he thrust a little more forcefully into his brother; he loved how he could feel Dean trembling against him, loved to see the strain he was putting on the strong body.

"God, yes, harder, keep going." Dean always wanted more.

"You’re killing me, man," Sam whispered breathlessly. "Look at you, I bet I could make you come just like that." He crooked his fingers and felt Dean jerk against him.

Dean arched up, his head banging the wall. He was flushed and breathing hard, his whole body was trembling and he was so close, Sam knew his reactions by heart, knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

"Use your cock," Dean hissed, "use your fingers, use the fucking beer bottle but just finish me off, Sam, or I swear I'll ask the bartender to do it."

"You can't beg like normal people do, can you?" Sam growled, biting him on the jaw for even suggesting that someone else could have that.

"Please finish me off or I swear you'll regret it." Dean was practically fucking himself on Sam's fingers now. He needed to reach completion; he was all but spelling it out to his brother.

"You’re such a good boy," Sam managed, talking becoming a real effort as he was being aroused almost to the point of no return, "I'll give you what you want."

He added a third finger and fucked Dean like that; hard and fast. Down and dirty. Just the way they both liked it. Sam was sure he was going to combust, Dean felt like a furnace; both outside and in. Or maybe they were both burning up; he didn't care, all he cared about was the feeling of Dean’s body stretching on his fingers, the feeling of branding him from within and maybe he was going to fall for his own trick too, Dean wasn't the only one who was going to come just from the finger-fucking.

"God!" Dean screamed and came all over them both. He sagged against the wall, with Sam on his front, holding him.

Every good intention Sam might have had about wanting to stay hard for a little longer went to hell at the sight of Dean coming on his fingers; he gripped Dean’s hips tightly then plastered himself against him, covering his brother's body with his own; he humped Dean, grinding, thrusting against him until he was joining his brother over the edge. He didn’t scream, just bit Dean's shoulder through his shirt, knowing yet another mark would belong to him after that night and not caring. Or more precisely, loving the thought of it.

"Shit." Sam thought it came from him, though it might have been coming from Dean. He wasn't completely with it yet.

Who was holding the other at this point, they didn’t know. They were still high from the adrenaline, the good kind this time, and they weren't in any hurry to come down. They thrust against each other for a little while, lazily, kissing unhurriedly, just winding down slowly.

When they could remember their own names, they pulled apart and, only then, did Sam make out some whistling and applauding around him. He almost blushed but a part of him just enjoyed the knowledge that people had seen them fucking. They had to do it again.

Dean was just smirking; looking completely debauched and so sexy it hurt. Sam pushed his brother's pants up, not wanting others to ogle him any more now they'd both come. He zipped him, his action mimicking the ones of earlier, only in reverse. Then he got himself in a semblance of decency. They were covered in come, certainly smelled like a brothel and they'd just won over their audience after a pretty explosive orgasm. 'Semblance of decency' was the best they could do, if you asked him.

"We're gross," Dean stated, licking his hands clean. But the satisfied look on his face belied his words.

"I think it's hot," Sam countered back, anyway. He looked down at his shirt that was covered with both his and his brother's come.

"I think you're turning into a slut. Not that I'm complaining, of course." Dean took his jacket and put it on. "It's your turn to do the laundry, by the way."

"God," Sam laughed, shaking his head, "I can't believe you just said that!" He put his jacket on too, ready to leave. "What happened to basking in the afterglow? What happened to pillow talk?"

Dean, who was heading to the exit, turned to him. "Are you seeing a pillow somewhere?"

"You're quite the comedian, man." Sam smiled, following his brother.

"And you're not seeing the big picture, anyway."

"Really? And what's the big picture?" Sam gasped as they set a foot outside, the difference of temperature was quite a shock to his still over-heated system.

Dean put his hands in his pockets, trying to find some warmth, apparently, and headed to the Impala. "This was just round one. Round two will have a bed and pillows. You’ll get your pillow talk then. Maybe. You know how I am after a good fuck."

"You crash and there's no waking you up, yeah, charming. One day I swear you’ll just fall asleep with my cock up your ass."

"How shocking! You would molest me in my sleep?"

"Stop playing the blushing virgin," Sam chuckled. "Besides, I bet you'd like that, you slut."

Dean just smiled. He opened the door of the car, then looked at Sam. "Blushing virgin, huh? And I bet that you would turn you on. Fancy a little role playing game, college boy?"

Sam snorted. "You wouldn't be able to pull off blushing virgin even if you tried your hardest, Dean."

Dean sat behind the wheel and waited for Sam to get in. "Is that a challenge?" He put the key in the ignition and turned it.

Sam watched as Dean took a moment to enjoy the vibration and the sound of his beloved car; he always did that, and it always made Sam smile.

"You could pretend to seduce me and I'd play hard to get." Dean started. “That way you could really stay hard for a hundred years, indulge in some cock torture."

"Shut up," Sam was laughing now.

"You love to torture yourself, after all," Dean was still saying. "Hey Sammy, is there a patron saint for guys who enjoy blue balls?"

"Shut up, man," Sam repeated breathlessly. "Seriously, don't you ever stop?"

Dean’s eyes left the road for a moment and he winked at his brother. "No, and don't you forget it."

As the car disappeared in the dark, sounds of laughter could be heard from inside. Life sucked and then you died. And sometimes life was fun and you just enjoyed the moment; the point was to be able to do it whenever you could. Sam was down with that.

Fin