Suits

There was just something about seeing Dean in a suit that made Sam squirm; most of the time in his head, but sometimes literally. The sight of a crisp, white shirt sliding into place, tucked into neatly ironed pants. A tie knot tightened quickly around his brother's
throat, jerked into place with irritation inevitably made Sam's breath speed up. Slacks that hugged just a respectable degree and then fell loose down, hiding the muscled legs dried Sam's mouth and made him lick his lips.

Sam almost always tried to be in a position to watch Dean get dressed when suits were going to be involved. He would turn his back to get dressed and angle so he could catch the show via a mirror. Or he would be in the bathroom with the door casually opened and peering through the crack by the hinges. Any time he couldn't see the plain, white tee slide modestly over his brother's muscle chest was a crying shame.

It was easier to covertly watch the dark socks cover Dean's pale feet since they were both supposedly done dressing by then. Of course, at that point Sam had to get a grip and breathe slow and easy to will away the half-hard erection aching for attention. It was a heady form of torture, the last part, when Dean slid his arms into the suit coat and ran his hands over his body to make sure everything was in place.

Thoughts would fly through his head. Images of him unbuttoning one tiny, clear button at a time. His fingers loosening that tie just enough so that he could suck on the curve of a mostly hidden throat. Sliding his hands under that oh-so-respectable shirt and the undershirt until reaching warm, bare skin. Undoing the buckle, but leaving on the belt as the dress slacks hung on Dean's hips...

And then it was time for whatever mission they were embarking on. Sam would shake out of his fantasies and have to put away his dirty little kink for the next time.

* * * *

Dean hid a grin as he patted himself down, ostensibly to make sure he was dressed right, but mostly just to torment Sam. One of these days he was tempted to give his brother a heart attack and do a striptease for him, but that might ruin both their fun. He had no idea why a plain old suit turned Sam's crank. It was boring.

He huffed lightly to himself and thought, Then again, it is Sammy.

Now leather... Leather pants the wrapped tight around Sam's ass and down impossibly long legs... that was something to get hot and bothered about. If Dean had his way, his brother would never again hide that ass beneath baggy jeans. Ever. The perfect 'uniform' for Sam was a pair of tight pants, preferably leather, but jeans would do, and a snug tee that showed every muscle in that giant body of his. And commando, of course. No point in hiding that cock under any more layers than strictly necessary.

Dean didn't miss the way Sam discreetly adjusted himself as he buttoned the suit coat and hid a grin. Whistling cheerfully as he left the hotel room, Dean made a note to throw his brother's clothes into an extra hot dryer the next time he volunteered for laundry duty.