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Jamaica July 21, 1716
Dean’s first act of business after he and his crew had made port at the mouth of the Kingston harbor was to profile the men set to sail the merchant ship he wished to rob. He and Castiel wasted little time asking around about the crew, and soon found that they planned to ship out at dawn in three days’ time. They also discovered that the sailors often spent their nights at a local tavern called Harvelle’s, which was where Dean planned to have his crew make friends with the men in order to get to know their personalities and habits. They needed to know the caliber of these men. If there were any heroes among em’. Who they would have to use physicality with, and the ones they could just scare with threating words.
So that night, Dean, Sam, and his crew went to Harvelle’s, each man, apart from Sam, being given a target to mingle with. Dean, of course, tasked himself with getting to know the captain; however, after a few minutes of asking around the bustling, grungy tavern, he’d failed to find the man he was looking for.
“…Maybe the captain isn’t one for drinkin’ and tomfoolery?” Sam asked as Dean and he took a seat at one of the few empty tables scattered throughout the small, overly crowded room.
It was clear that Sam was uncomfortable among all the loud, drunk men that surrounded them, regarding a group of prostitutes who were eyeing Dean from the corner with contempt. Without thinking, the younger man slid his arm around his brother’s back possessively, nuzzling his nose against his cheek; taking far too much satisfaction in the way the women scowled at him when Dean reached up to ruffled his hair, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the corner of Sam’s mouth.
“Nah, he’s here, Sammy. Or somewhere close,” Dean mused, eyebrows shooting up in surprise when a gorgeous, busty blonde with large ringlets of luscious curls flowing down her back, brilliant blue eyes, and dark red lips suddenly slid onto his lap.
“Get lost,” Sam barked without missing a beat, resisting the urge to smack the woman for even thinking about putting a hand on his brother.
He was livid, anger consuming him like a violent tidal wave; filling his lungs, scorching his insides and cutting off his oxygen so he felt as though he were drowning in it. How dare this hussy touch Dean?! And how dare she have the gall to smile at him like he was a petulant child she was trying to sooth, to ignore his command and wrap her arm around Dean’s neck.
“Easy darlin’, heard you boys were lookin’ for the captain of the Ascension.”
“That’s right, gorgeous,” Dean chimed in, giving the woman on his lap a devilish smirk, right hand coming up to rest on her thigh. “You happen to know where we can find him?”
“Mm, perhaps, for a price.”
The low, sensual tone of the woman’s voice made Sam’s body tremble with rage. He loathed the way she was looking at his brother, like she was undressing him with her eyes, desperate for anything he would give her. And he was THIS close to pushing the skank off Dean’s lap and onto the floor where she belong when the older man gave his reply, leaving Sam thoroughly dumbfounded.
“Name it, m’dear.”
Smiling like the cat who caught the canary, the woman leaned forward, lips entirely too close to Dean’s for Sam’s liking as she shamelessly began to grind her ass down against Dean’s cock; the older man moaning involuntarily as his grip on her thigh tightened.
“Say I can share your bed tonight, Cap’n Winchester, and I’ll tell you were to find the man you’re lookin’ for.”
“Mm, so you’ve heard of me?” Dean chuckled, but Sam couldn’t hear the woman’s reply over the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
In a flash, he was on his feet, storming out the back door of the tavern because the front was too obstructed by drunkards and whores for him to pass. He was vaguely aware that Dean was calling his name, but he couldn’t bother to listen, thankful when he was finally outside in the alley away from noise and the horrible smell of stale beer.
Taking a deep breath, Sam leaned against the brick wall of the tavern, trying to calm down; knowing all too well that if he hadn’t left when he did he would have strangled that woman to death with his two bare hands.
And how Dean could just sit there and let that slut paw at him while Sam watched was behind him. He would never do that to his big brother, not ever. Letting out a shaking breath, Sam felt the hot sting of tears welling in his eyes, heart aching as a sharp pain shot across his chest.
“Sammy.”
Turning his head, Sam avoided eye contact with Dean as the older man stepped into the alley, coming up to stand in front of him.
“Leave me alone, Dean. Just go back to your little blonde slut.”
“Aw, baby boy, don’t be like that,” Dean cooed, pressing his body against Sam’s, hands gripping his hips tightly. “I just needed information from her s’all, once I got it I was gonna tell her to hit the bricks. No way in hell I was gonna fuck her.”
“Regardless! If roles had been reversed and she’d propositioned me, you would have slit that bitch’s throat where she sat!”
Dean opened his mouth to argue but when he saw the murderous look on Sam’s face he immediately thought better of it. Reaching forward, the older man gently ran his fingers through his brother’s hair, Sam unable to stop himself from crying into Dean’s shoulder; pain and anger vibrating through his body, making his bones ache.
“What can I do to fix this, Sammy? Please, I’ll do anything.”
Sam slowly pulled back from Dean, glossy, bloodshot eyes searching his brother’s face; heart fluttering when his gaze was met with a look of sincerity. He took another deep breath, settling his hands on the tops of the older man’s shoulders as he tried to get himself under control enough to speak steadily.
“Tell me,” Sam commanded, voice low, almost a growl; hazel eyes locked with his brother’s green ones. “Who you belong to.”
He felt his big brother’s body tense up upon hearing his demand, but he remained pressed firmly against the younger man nevertheless. A slow, predatory grin spreading across his lips as he looked down at Sam heatedly. And then all of a sudden, Dean’s grip on his hips tightened, digging bruises into his skin; the older man leaning forward to press his forehead against Sam’s.
Sam brought his hands up to Dean’s chest, fingernails scraping across the smooth, flushed skin where his shirt was open at the top. He could feel the scratches forming, blood slick and warm under his fingertips, the sound of Dean moaning going straight to his cock.
“You, little brother. I’m all yours,” Dean purred as he rolled his hips teasingly, causing Sam to gasp when his brother’s clothed cock grazed his own.
The gravity of Dean’s confession hit Sam hard. He felt the meaning of his brother’s words settling deep in his chest like a shot of rum, a smooth, spicy-sweet burn spreading throughout his veins and setting him ablaze with pleasure. Getting him drunk of the intoxicating feeling of power.
“That’s right, you’re mine.”
Sam barely got the words out before Dean’s mouth was on his, hot, wet and demanding. Their kiss a clash of tongue and teeth, so passionate that when they finally broke apart a few minutes later, both of them were desperately gasping for breath.
“So, what do ya say, Sammy? Do ya forgive me?”
Dean had a smile on his face that just wouldn’t quite, chest heaving as he looked down at his little brother expectantly, plush lips swollen and glossy, tempting Sam to kiss them raw.
“Get on your knees,” Sam ordered suddenly, not sure where this newfound boldness of his was coming from; but too high on power to question it.
The command took Dean by surprise, that was evident by the stunned look on his face, but he eventually did as he was told. Sinking to his knees in front of the younger man, instinctively licking his lips as he eyed Sam’s cock. The younger man now half-hard, a visible budge in his breeches.
Taking a deep breath in through his nose, Sam tried to keep his compose as he reached down to unbutton his shorts, pushing the wool material down until it was pooled around his ankles; swollen cock springing free, pre-cum dripping from the slit and slowly oozing down the shaft.
“Show me, Dean. Show me who you belong to.”
Dean let out a low, guttural moan as he brought his right hand up to his mouth, licking a long, wet strip across his palm before taking Sam’s erection in his grip. Sam felt his toes curls, head falling back in ecstasy as Dean worked up a steady rhythm, thumb periodically grazing the wet, sensitive head of his throbbing, rock hard cock.
And when Dean leaned down to suck on the tip, tongue dancing over the slit, Sam moaned his brother’s name, fingers tanging into the older man’s hair, holding on for dear life.
“Oh fuck, Dean, yes!”
Dean hollowed out his cheeks, tongue caressing the underside of Sam’s cock as he began to bob his head, using his right hand to stroke the base of his little brother’s erection. He cupped Sam’s heavy, aching balls with his left hand, gently rolling the sensitive skin between his fingers; the younger man shaking and whimpering while Dean sucked his cock like it was his goddamn purpose in life.
His brother’s mouth was perfect, hot, slick, and extremely skilled. And it wasn’t long before Sam could feel pleasure building up in the pit of his stomach, skin tingling, body vibrating with need as Dean took him deeper.
“Dean! I’m…”
Sam came, warm and thick down his brother’s throat before he could even warn Dean. The older man swallowing every drop, leaving Sam spent, and panting; leaning back against the brick wall behind him for support, knees too shaky to trust.
“Goddamn, little brother,” Dean chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he helped Sam pull up his breeches; voice rough with lust, eyes dark, staring at the younger boy wantonly. “I like it when you get possessive.”
“C’mere,” Sam growled, grabbing his brother by his shirt to pull him forward into a heated kiss. “Don’t you dare flirt with anyone in front of me, be it for information or some other ulterior motive, ever fucking again,” he added demandingly, Dean moaning into his mouth in response.
“You have my word, Sammy.”
“Good.”
And with that, Sam kissed Dean again, rough and possessive, hand coming up to cup his big brother’s throbbing hard cock.