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“Think I never noticed that you do it a lot?”

And there it was, confirmation that Dean’s attention to Sloane hadn’t been totally pure. The realization should have been startling, uncomfortable even, but Sloane’s cock gave a twitch instead. Dean’s fingers stroked the base of Sloane’s cock, and Sloane slid a little lower on the couch, trying to give the man better access.

Dean pushed away from the couch, moving steadily as he crouched, and knelt between Sloane’s legs. Sloane’s heartthudded so hard, he was shocked they couldn’t hear it as Dean took hold of his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs. Sloane’s head swam as he watched his best friend kneeling before him, taking hold of the base of his cock to pull it to freedom.

Dean’s eyes were locked on Sloane’s cock as his fingers ran over the entire thick length, and Sloane wondered if he was going to lose it right there. He froze as Dean leaned forward, wrapping his lips around the head. Warmth spread over his cock, and Sloane let out a low whimper as he felt it slide down further.

Sloane didn’t know what was more erotic, the sensation of Dean’s mouth around his cock, or the sight of his best friend inching his mouth further down. If he’d been a little more clearheaded, Sloane would have been impressed by just how much of his cock Dean was able to take. Instead, a low moan broke from his lips, and his hand curled behind Dean’s head as the muscles of the man’s throat gripped him tight.

Pulling back, Dean nursed gently on the head, pulling another low, desperate noise from Sloane. When Dean pushed forward, moaning deeply, Sloane’s back arched as pleasure zinged through him like a bolt. It seemed to be all Dean needed, however, and he began to bob in earnest, sucking Sloane into the back of his throat deeper each time.

Sloane sucked in a breath, letting it hiss out between his teeth as Dean’s lips, tongue, and throat worked him over. He didn’t know if anyone had ever sucked him like this, a mixture of desperate and reverent. Dean’s hands gripped Sloane’s exposed legs, squeezing the thick muscles as he drove himself forward, embedding Sloane’s cock in his throat and holding it there.

Squirming, Sloane pushed his hips up, trying to keep the grip, the warmth, of Dean’s mouth around his cock. The muscles of his body curled up, building in pressure and pleasure as Deanallowed him to thrust up into his throat, moaning as Sloane did so. Before completely losing his mind, Sloane willed himself back, panting as he hung at the edge.

“Dean,” Sloane groaned, not wanting to force him.

Once more, Dean never hesitated to drive his mouth forward, taking Sloane entirely again. Sloane gave a low cry, fingers tightening into a fist in Dean’s hair as he came hard. Around his cock, Dean’s mouth and throat vibrated with a groan as Sloane’s cock swelled and poured forth. Sloane watched, unable to do anything else, as his orgasm cascaded through him. Dean pulled his head back, holding only the head of Sloane’s cock in his mouth and letting him spurt over his tongue.

Sloane was left panting for breath, and Dean eased his mouth gently from Sloane’s cock. Dean didn’t move from between Sloane’s legs, gazing up at him with a blank expression. When his head cleared a little, Sloane gazed back at his friend, his mind a racing, incomprehensible storm.

What had they just done?

DEAN

The first thing he became aware of was how bright the room was. Dean groaned, turning away from the light streaming through the curtains directly across his face. One of these days, he would learn to lay his head on the other side of the couch so he didn’t wake up in pain from the brilliance of the cursed fiery orb in the sky.

As much as he would have happily rolled over and gone to sleep again, his bladder began screaming at him. Grunting unhappily, Dean pushed himself up from the couch cushions. However, his movement was a little too sharp, and he almost sent himself tumbling over as his hungover body lacked any sense of balance. Luckily, the coffee table stopped him from falling off the couch, his shins knocking into the wood with a sharp smack.

Cursing the table, Dean hobbled down the hallway to the bathroom. His shins still throbbed by the time he was washing his hands, and it did nothing to improve his hangover-induced bad mood. Making his way out of the bathroom, he shuffled into Sloane’s kitchen and began brewing the coffee. He stopped short when he saw the coffeemaker wasn’t prepped, but not tobe deterred from his morning cup, Dean tossed the water and grounds in and slapped the button.

Rubbing his head against the pulsing throb deep in his skull, he made his way back to the living room. Dean stopped short as he saw their glasses and Sloane’s half-finished beer were left out, as was the bottle of vodka. It looked like any other drunken night the two of them had engaged in on the rare occasion, right down to the burger wrappers balled up and left on the table.

But last night hadn’t been like any other drunken night.

Dean closed his eyes as the previous night's events rushed back to him. He covered his face, forcing himself to take a deep, steadying breath. There had been a few instances of next morning regrets, but none had turned his stomach quite like remembering what he’d done with Sloane.

“Oh God,” Dean groaned.

A thump drew him around, and he whirled to face the sound. Immediately, he regretted the decision as the room spun, forcing him to grip the nearby chair to stay upright. The sudden shot of pain through his skull he could live with, but the sight of Sloane standing at the end of the hallway was something he wasn’t ready for.

“Hungover?” Sloane asked with a rasp.

Hungover and almost panicking, but Dean simply nodded. He was more than aware that despite typically only pulling on a pair of pants or shorts when he woke up, Sloane had dressed fully before emerging from his room. And Dean didn’t like how Sloane wasn’t looking him in the eye for more than a few seconds.

“Drank enough to regret it,” Dean said.

Sloane nodded, continuing his path to the kitchen. He glanced at Dean as he passed, and Dean wondered if Sloane was purposefully keeping his distance or if he was just imagining it.

“Oh, you got it going,” Sloane said as he stopped in the kitchen doorway.

Dean nodded. “You know me, got to have my cup.”

Sloane grunted. “Right, you have your shift today.”

Dean blinked, turning around to try and find his phone. In the wake of his hangover and the realization of what they’d done, Dean had almost completely forgotten about his upcoming shift at the clinic. A weird mixture of relief and disappointment flooded through him when he saw he still had another hour before he had to leave.

“Running late?” Sloane asked.