Title: Short Way to Get There
By: ruefulgirl
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Words: 1050
Summary: Sam and Dean hunt a nest of succubi to disastrously sexy results.
Note: Set before Ruby and Hell and all that nonsense.


The problem with hunting a sex demon is that it makes you think about sex. A lot. First, there's the lore—which goes into great (some may even say lurid) detail about what said sex demons look for in a victim, what they do to said victim, what said victim does back, what all involved parties are wearing (or not wearing) and so on. In fact, Sam found the sheer amount of detail available on sex demons to be somewhat disturbing. There was Rilia - Wild Demon of Sex and Death - an ancient sex goddess. There was Sex Demon the band. Sex Demons I, II, and III, direct to DVD porno flicks that Dean volunteered to watch for the sake of "research." There were succubi (female demons who fornicated with males) and incubi (male demons who fornicated with females). Hell, for all Sam knew there were transgenderi (you get the picture ... ).

And then there was Mildred, devout Christian and distressed grandmother who by the six degrees of separation, and some ex in-laws that Bobby didn't want to discuss, turned Bobby on to a nest of succubi in the wilds of Montana.

Which was pretty much how Sam and Dean ended up in the middle of a forest, at night (a cold night at that), six miles from the car, machetes red from the blood of the succubi they had just killed (but not before she sprayed both of them with some sort of pheromone mist) with raging hard ons that would not frickin quit.

"Oh, hell," Dean said after a moment, and began unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Right there. With the trees and pine needles and stars and Sam. Sam gaped at his brother, momentarily distracted from the agony in his own throbbing dick by Dean's . . . balls. Not in the literal sense.

"What are you doing?" Sam choked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Dean answered irritably. "Getting some relief." He fumbled at his pants, then glanced at Sam. "No one says you have to watch."

"Oh, yeah," Sam stammered, feeling his cheeks flare bright red.

Sam's hard on wasn't going down one bit. In fact, the damn thing seemed to be getting worse.

Suddenly, he was desperate for privacy. Which wasn't exactly in great abundance. "I'll just be over here," he mumbled, and headed for the deep dark woods to jerk off in peace.

"Sam!" Dean snapped. "Get your ass back here. We don't know whether she has any sisters waiting there for you. Remember how we got into this situation in the first place?"

Well, he'd really rather not. There was the pheromone spray, you see. And running. Cursing. Some slobbering as well. It really wasn't pretty.

"Don't be an idiot, Sam," Dean said, sounding irritated and exasperated.

"You want me to be a pervert instead?"

"As long as you're a living pervert." And now Dean was sounding less irritated and exasperated and more breathless and distracted.

"Dean?" Sam said, suspicious. He turned around. "What are you--?"

Dean was leaning up against a boulder, pushing his pants down over his hips.

"Dean ...!"

"Sammy, I know. I just—fuck. It hurts." His voice caught on the last word, making Sam wince in sympathy.

As a matter of fact, it did hurt. Something terrible. He felt as if his dick might just burst through his pants like some sort of weirdly inflated balloon animal. An image which seemed bizarrely appropriate to this night.

He shifted from foot to foot, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn't just stand here, out in the open, and jerk off. Could he?

"Sam," Dean said. "Will you just get the hell over here? Please?"

"Why? What do you want?" Sam was getting seriously freaked out.

"I don't want to worry about where you are when I'm busy, you fuckwit!" Dean snapped.

Well, that seemed to make sense. Sam considered for a moment. It was really dark out here. Dean probably wouldn't be able to see anything. Hearing was another thing entirely. Although truthfully, Dean didn't seem to be paying much attention to him right now.

With a muttered, slightly mortified curse, Sam stomped over to the boulder Dean was leaning against, and chose a spot on the other side of him. He leaned there, back facing Dean, and set to work on unbuttoning at his jeans. His fingers were trembling. His breath was coming too fast. And he couldn't remember being this turned on since the first time he and Jess made love in her skinny dorm bed after too many drinks at a fraternity party.

He let his head fall back as he pulled his boxers down enough to expose his throbbing dick. The cool evening air felt good on his heated skin. He curled his hand around the smooth skin of his cock and began to slide it up and down the rock hard shaft, beating off in a familiar - all too familiar - rhythm. He tried to conjure a vision of Jess, the way she had looked on all fours, crouched over him, tongue gliding along her lips, eyes smoky and dark ... Maybe it was the smell of burnt succubus still in the air, or the fact that his brother was two feet away, but it really wasn't working too well. Or at all.

Instead he just resorted to his old standby fantasy: pounding his dick into Miss October's pussy as she writhed around in ecstasy.

Dean gave a ragged moan that sent an extra spike of arousal down Sam's cock. Sam could tell from that noise, and from the sudden stiffening of Dean's spine visible out of the corner of his eye, that he was coming. That knowledge sent him right over the edge. He bit his lip as his orgasm tore through him. It seemed to go on and on, and it felt ... yeah, it felt really good. Really embarrassingly good.

They collapsed on either side of the boulder, both of them breathing heavily for a long moment.

"That was ..." Sam paused, trying to think of an appropriate description. He settled on, "Weird."

Dean gave a derisive snort that quickly turned into a long, half-hysterical laugh. After a moment, Sam joined in.

"Yup, Sammy," Dean gasped after a while, wiping tears from his eyes, "this is one for the journal."