Fic: Bridges Burned (Dean/Sam - Supernatural)
So I'm probably doing this all wrong, but I'm just making it up as I go so....
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Weecest (underage sex), incest, graphic sexual content, some violence
Notes: Follows Learning Experience
Summary -Something changes when Dad and Dean go one hunt, the question is what and how it will change things between the boys forever.
Sam needed a bad habit; something that would burn away at the nervous energy that crawled under his skin like electrified ants. He'd already discarded the idea of biting his fingernails - way too terrifying to think about what might be lurking under his nails - and smoking - he'd had to sit through that damn health class lecture at all five of his schools last year, and he just couldn't get past it. Dean had a habit of worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, which was probably an ok habit except that now Sam was stuck with the image of Dean's lips gone all slick and red and swollen... and that wasn't doing a damn thing to calm him down.
He shove himself up off of the rumpled sheets of the bed he and Dean were sharing - because apparently the universe wanted Sam's balls to be that particular shade of blue - and started walking the seven strides it took for his long legs to cross the too-small motel room and back over and over.
Under normal circumstances - ha! Normal! - they'd have gotten some run-down month to month apartment where he and Dean would have just had to share a room and could at least beat off together with Dad safely down the hall instead of three fucking feet away. Not that his brother had seemed particularly interested in their usual nighttime activities even before Dad decided that it was too risky to leave Sam alone at an apartment with the monster on their new case running around town offing teenagers. Not too risky to leave him alone in a motel room though, like that made any damned sense. And, ok, yeah, he supposed that if something went really wrong he could just run or yell or something and people in the motel would at least hear him, so maybe it was a little safer... But he was 15 for crying out fucking loud! He'd been helping Dad and Dean take down monsters for years now and he could sure as hell take care of himself. They hadn't even listened to his idea of using himself as bait. Couldn't let little Sammy be a target.
So while they were out there trying to figure out what the "it" was by themselves - even though Sam was a better researcher than either of them would ever be - Sam got to stay holed up in yet another dirty motel room with four fuzzy cable channels and a mind full of worries he could never quite switch off. A week's worth of nothing but peeling sienna wallpaper was enough to have him ready to go out and hunt down the damn whateveritwas himself, and that had been before the soul-crushing panic of last night.
It had been close to three in the morning before he'd heard the Impala rumble up and the inevitable ember of hot fear had nestled in his gut as he waited to find out what kind of state his family was in this time. Dad and Dean had hustled across the salt lines in a rush of gun powder-scented air, Dean fussing over the cut above Dad's eye, too preoccupied to even let Sam take a real look at his purpling ribs. Some tiny part of his mind reminded his that Dean was right, there wasn't really anything to be done about cracked ribs, but he still could have let Sam check.
Then again, Dean hadn't come within arms reach of him voluntarily in weeks anyway, so maybe Sam shouldn't have been surprised. If it wasn't for Dad's insistence that they all share this motel room, complete with ridiculous sleeping arrangements, Sam doubted he'd have been able to touch his brother at all. Dean seemed more than willing to completely forget about the last few years between them altogether; the casual touches moving slowly into caresses, the nights listening to, watching each other jerk off, sometimes in the same bed with only inches between them, the handful of near-misses and finally - finally! - that one warm, wet kiss that had wormed it's way under Sam's skin and left him addict-hungry for something Dean apparently no longer wanted to give. Even after all of his desperate attempts, even downright begging Dean, all Sam had to show for his little obsession with his brother was an increasingly impressive callus on the webbing of his thumb.
All that sexual tension only helped to rev up Sam's nerves about the fact that his father and brother were running so late, especially after they had managed to piss of the thing - they thought maybe it was some kind of spirit possession - last night. It was more than enough to keep Sam compulsively counting his strides back and forth across the room. Pacing, pacing could be his habit.
The deep rumble Sam knew in his bones worked its way from the highway and down into his tightening chest. He had their door flung open before Dean had even put the car in park. He was alone. Every nerve in Sam's body ran cold.
Dean leaned out of the car, shouting over the growl of the engine,
"Sammy, move your ass! We gotta go now!"
"What's going on? Where's dad?" Sam yelled back, but he was already closing the door behind him and hustling to the car. Being a Winchester meant knowing how to take orders, and his brain was still too clouded by panicked "maybe"s to shut off his body's autopilot.
"Dad's fine," Dean said, slamming his door shut at almost the same time as Sam and already backing out toward the highway. "Shit went down. Gonna be fine, but we think it knows where we were staying. Thought it might come after you."
Even as the knot in Sam's throat released knowing Dad was ok, he couldn't help but notice the look on his brother's face. Dean looked... well, on anybody other than Dean Winchester that would have been a decidedly freaked out expression, but Sam's brother didn't freak out; he was tough and brave and ready for anything the supernatural world could throw at him. But Sam would almost swear he could see Dean trembling in the flickers of lights they passed as they worked their way - way too fast - outside of town.
"Where are we going?" Sam asked quietly, increasingly entranced by watching his brother's not-freak out. He could work the details of what happened out of Dean once he'd calmed down.
"Just away," his brother replied, green eyes flicking over to Sam every few seconds like he might disappear. "Dad's got a trap set up for the thing back in its nest, just need to keep you away from the hunting grounds until it's over."
"We should go help him, Dean" Sam was about to rev up into a speech to talk the older Winchester into his plan when Dean suddenly cut the wheel, veering off onto a side road fast. "Dean! What the fuck!"
"You're not getting mixed up in this, Sammy. No way." Dean's tone was hard, almost angry, but his voice shook a little as they bumped down the path that could only be called a road in the technical sense. Sam couldn't believe Dean would take "his baby" down through this.
"It's Sam. And I'm not a kid. I can-"
The Impala slammed to a halt suddenly in a little clearing. Sam looked over at his brother who had clearly taken some kind of serious blow to the head or something with the way he was acting, but stopped short as he made of Dean's features in the blue light of the moon. There was no getting around it, Dean Fucking Winchester was freaking out.
"Don't you get it Sam!" It was clearly supposed to be a yell, but it came out as more of a plea, "This thing was coming after you. It said your name, it knew about you."
And suddenly Sam was being pulled halfway across the car by Dean's big arms, his face pressed into the softness of Dean's worn t-shirt, breathing in the scent that had always been the closest thing Sam knew to home. Dean's breath was hot against his ear, panting raggedly and it really really shouldn't have made Sam's cock perk up.
"Could have lost you, Sammy. The whole way over here just kept thinking about that thing getting there before me. Couldn't take it, can't lose you, baby."
Usually Sam would have balked at being called "baby" but something in the way Dean said it, with his soft lips brushing over Sam's ear and sending chill bumps in waves over his skin, gave him the feeling that Dean wasn't thinking about him as a little brother at all right now. He couldn't help the molten shot of adrenaline that worked its way through his veins at the thought. Now Dean wasn't the only one panting.
The rough stubble of Dean's jaw worked against Sam's cheek as his older brother nuzzled - nuzzled? Fucking nuzzled!? - at Sam's hair, breathing deep like it was the best smell in the whole world. Sam melted against the older Winchester, feeling his heartbeat fall into sync with the rapid-fire pound of Dean's.
Those full, fucking perfect lips pressed gently to the shell of Sam's ear and there suddenly wasn't nearly enough air in this air as they trailed further down, ghosting against the pulse point at his neck.
"Sammy," Dean breathed, and Sam was going to deny that whimper until Judgment Day.
There wasn't anything in the world except for Dean now; Dean's mouth pressing burning kisses to every inch of skin he could reach, Dean's hands roaming aver his body like he had to memorize it, Dean's smell replacing Sam's waning need for oxygen, Dean's - fuck! - hot, hard cock straining against his jeans as he moved Sam's long body to awkwardly straddle him. And then even that wasn't enough because there were whole acres of skin that Dean wasn't touching because for some reason Sam had stupidly decided to wear clothes today and that was something they had to rectify right fucking now.
The older Winchester seemed to be completely on board with the "get Sam naked" portion of the evening, right up until Sam started trying to wrestle his jeans over his ankles and Dean finally growled,
"Just get a leg free."
Which apparently were the magic words that connected directly to Sam's cock and manually overrode every other brain function he'd ever had. He plopped back down onto Dean's lap, one bare leg catching on the leather upholstery while he tried to find something comfortable to do with the weird bundle of denim clinging to the other one.
Dean tugged him in close, Sam's naked dick rubbing just this side of painfully against his brother's now-open zipper. Sam was so preoccupied by that particular sensation - and the fact that Dean was right in the middle of giving his mouth the worlds most thorough fucking with his hot, satiny tongue - that Dean's somehow slick fingers were already circling his hole before he realized what was happening. On instinct, Sam's muscles went rigid before Dean moved both of his hands up to the small of Sam's back, stroking gently and encouraging him to move back in closer to his big brother.
"Shh," Dean whispered, "its ok, baby. Not gonna hurt you. Gonna make it so good for you, Sammy."
Sam leaned back in slowly, finding his brother's lips in a much more tentative kiss that Dean turned deep again and then they were right back where they started, Dean licking his fingers wet again before pushing one softly against Sam's hole. The muscle gave way and Sam gasped at the flood of sensation, not really sure if it was pain or pleasure. But Dean kept right on pushing until Sam could feel his knuckled snugged up against him. Then Dean's finger curved and Sam's whole body went rigid for a completely different reason. It took him a second to recover from the flash-fire swell of ecstasy that left his swollen cockhead gripping precome between them, and by the time he had, Dean had already worked a second finger in, repeating that white hot stroking that left Sam seeing stars.
They might have been at this for hours, for all Sam knew - his dick was sure as hell begging to come like they had been, only stopped by the constricting pressure of Sam's thumb and forefinger - but finally Dean slid his fingers out and began shuffling to get his own cock out. Sam couldn't see very well in this light, but he'd seen his brother hard enough time to perfectly picture the blood-heavy flesh, crown slick-shiny with the wealth of precome Dean always produced and Sam fought back the urge to drop a finger down and taste it. He had a feeling he was going to need all of the lubrication he could get.
That was the moment that it finally hit him; they were going to do this, he was going to get what he'd been wanting since he could understand what wanting really was. Nothing else mattered. Not the heavy bunch of clothes trapping one leg, or the fact that there wasn't really such a thing as a comfortable position with his too-long legs bunched up like this. Not the fact the he could already feel the burn in his ass even though Dean was just now pressing the slick tip against him or the shine of headlights at the far end of the path because they could sell this on fucking pay per view for all he cared as long as that rough push didn't stop.
With a sudden flare of heat, the ring of Sam's muscle gave way and he could feel Dean's cockhead slide inside. God it was going to be embarrassing if he came just from this but he wasn't exactly sure he could stop between the pressure and that razor edge of pain/pleasure and Dean panting "yes, yes, yesyesyes!" fucking triumphantly right against he'd sucked against Sam's neck.
And then he knew he wasn't going to come because the whole world flipped sideways and - fuckinghelljesus - Dean pulled, ripped out of him with a cry and Sam was tumbling to the floorboards. The driver’s side door was open - when had that happened? - and Dean was outside on the ground wrestling around with... himself. Himself?
Sam blinked his eyes stupidly a couple of times to make sure this wasn't some weird trick of the light. No, that was definitely two Deans rolling around in the dirt, punches flying and grunted curses ripping the air.
And, ok, yeah, Sam probably should have been a little quicker on the uptake - he was a Winchester after all, it wasn't like weird ass shit didn't happen to him all the fucking time - but he figured being on the brink of having your brother - no wait, not his brother, maybe something that looked like his brother, he guessed - fuck you senseless was a pretty good excuse for impaired cognitive function. Because yeah, now that the pieces were all laid out there in front of him - or, well, slugging it out in front of him while he tried to get his pants far enough up that they wouldn't be a complete hindrance when he jumped in to help - there was only really one option. Of course Dean hadn't suddenly decided to give him everything he'd been begging for for a year, something else had, probably to get back at Dean and Dad for trying to kill it and now Dean was here to stop it from hurting Sam and... God. Had just busted in on Sam losing his virginity, getting fucked up the ass by a monster and fucking loving it. He was never, ever, ever going to live this down.
At least he could enjoy killing the damn thing.
Between the two Winchesters and Dean's incredibly sharp knife, the Dean impersonator was headless pretty damn fast, leaving just the two of them panting in the dirt with a gross parody of a headless Dean with his pants around his thighs.
"Ghoul," Dean said finally, leaning back against the cool metal of the Impala.
"Oh," Sam replied numbly, not daring to look at his brother. Then the rusty gears of his brain started to click together again. "Wait, ghouls only look like the last dead thing they ate," he said, hazel eyes meeting green in the dark.
"Yeah, well, it's not that they can't do it with living people, I guess it's just a pain in the ass. Or, you know, shoulder." Dean smiled, indicating a dark, wet patch soaking the far shoulder of his shirt.
"Jesus, Dean!" Sam rushed over to his brother without a second thought, fingers carefully peeling back the cotton tee to reveal a ragged bite mark.
"'M Fine, Sammy. Nothing that won't heal." Dean shrugged him off nonchalantly and then without anything else to concentrate on Sam realized exactly how close he was to his brother. His real brother. Not the fake one he was about to let fuck him into oblivion. Sam's guts went cold.
"Are you... ok?" Dean asked quietly, and suddenly it seemed almost weird that he hadn't asked before. He was Dean, after all, Mr. Sammy's Safety Come First. But then again, he was basically asking if the ghoul's replica of his dick had done any real damage to Sam's ass and that was just so far outside of the realm of anything Sam was prepared to deal with right now.
"Yeah, no big," Sam lied through his teeth. He wasn't hurt, but this was definitely big, and even if he didn't want to talk about it right now, he knew that in a couple of days it was going to be eating at him so badly there wouldn't be any way to avoid it. Still, that bought him another couple of days.
Sam got carefully to his feet, the sting in his backside way more noticeable now that the fight/fuck dump of adrenaline was out of his system. He tried not to let it show since he could feel Dean's eyes on him as his older brother got slowly to his feet too.
"Need to salt and burn," was all Dean said.
Sam moved to walk back to the trunk - and oh my god, the ghoul had stolen Dean's fucking car! It was lucky to have gotten off with just decapitation - to get the supplies when Dean's hand on his shoulder stopped him dead. Hesitantly, Sam angled his head just enough to look at his brother. Dean had this weird, soft expression on his face that Sam just had no damn clue what to do with but then it didn't really matter what Sam knew because Dean was leaning in and placing one very gentle but not at all chaste kiss against Sam's swollen lips. Maybe his world wasn't about to implode after all.
They just stood there for a second, looking at each other before Dean finally said,
"So are you gonna get the stuff or do I have to do all the work around here?"
His face split into the wide grin Sam was so used to and just like that it was like everything was back to the way it was supposed to be. Sam knew it wasn't, that they were going to have to deal with this, big time, very soon, but for right now he could go back to the trunk and help his big brother salt and burn a monster and everything could the Winchester's very own brand of normal
Sequel: Their Very Own Brand of Normal
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Weecest (underage sex), incest, graphic sexual content, some violence
Notes: Follows Learning Experience
Summary -Something changes when Dad and Dean go one hunt, the question is what and how it will change things between the boys forever.
Sam needed a bad habit; something that would burn away at the nervous energy that crawled under his skin like electrified ants. He'd already discarded the idea of biting his fingernails - way too terrifying to think about what might be lurking under his nails - and smoking - he'd had to sit through that damn health class lecture at all five of his schools last year, and he just couldn't get past it. Dean had a habit of worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, which was probably an ok habit except that now Sam was stuck with the image of Dean's lips gone all slick and red and swollen... and that wasn't doing a damn thing to calm him down.
He shove himself up off of the rumpled sheets of the bed he and Dean were sharing - because apparently the universe wanted Sam's balls to be that particular shade of blue - and started walking the seven strides it took for his long legs to cross the too-small motel room and back over and over.
Under normal circumstances - ha! Normal! - they'd have gotten some run-down month to month apartment where he and Dean would have just had to share a room and could at least beat off together with Dad safely down the hall instead of three fucking feet away. Not that his brother had seemed particularly interested in their usual nighttime activities even before Dad decided that it was too risky to leave Sam alone at an apartment with the monster on their new case running around town offing teenagers. Not too risky to leave him alone in a motel room though, like that made any damned sense. And, ok, yeah, he supposed that if something went really wrong he could just run or yell or something and people in the motel would at least hear him, so maybe it was a little safer... But he was 15 for crying out fucking loud! He'd been helping Dad and Dean take down monsters for years now and he could sure as hell take care of himself. They hadn't even listened to his idea of using himself as bait. Couldn't let little Sammy be a target.
So while they were out there trying to figure out what the "it" was by themselves - even though Sam was a better researcher than either of them would ever be - Sam got to stay holed up in yet another dirty motel room with four fuzzy cable channels and a mind full of worries he could never quite switch off. A week's worth of nothing but peeling sienna wallpaper was enough to have him ready to go out and hunt down the damn whateveritwas himself, and that had been before the soul-crushing panic of last night.
It had been close to three in the morning before he'd heard the Impala rumble up and the inevitable ember of hot fear had nestled in his gut as he waited to find out what kind of state his family was in this time. Dad and Dean had hustled across the salt lines in a rush of gun powder-scented air, Dean fussing over the cut above Dad's eye, too preoccupied to even let Sam take a real look at his purpling ribs. Some tiny part of his mind reminded his that Dean was right, there wasn't really anything to be done about cracked ribs, but he still could have let Sam check.
Then again, Dean hadn't come within arms reach of him voluntarily in weeks anyway, so maybe Sam shouldn't have been surprised. If it wasn't for Dad's insistence that they all share this motel room, complete with ridiculous sleeping arrangements, Sam doubted he'd have been able to touch his brother at all. Dean seemed more than willing to completely forget about the last few years between them altogether; the casual touches moving slowly into caresses, the nights listening to, watching each other jerk off, sometimes in the same bed with only inches between them, the handful of near-misses and finally - finally! - that one warm, wet kiss that had wormed it's way under Sam's skin and left him addict-hungry for something Dean apparently no longer wanted to give. Even after all of his desperate attempts, even downright begging Dean, all Sam had to show for his little obsession with his brother was an increasingly impressive callus on the webbing of his thumb.
All that sexual tension only helped to rev up Sam's nerves about the fact that his father and brother were running so late, especially after they had managed to piss of the thing - they thought maybe it was some kind of spirit possession - last night. It was more than enough to keep Sam compulsively counting his strides back and forth across the room. Pacing, pacing could be his habit.
The deep rumble Sam knew in his bones worked its way from the highway and down into his tightening chest. He had their door flung open before Dean had even put the car in park. He was alone. Every nerve in Sam's body ran cold.
Dean leaned out of the car, shouting over the growl of the engine,
"Sammy, move your ass! We gotta go now!"
"What's going on? Where's dad?" Sam yelled back, but he was already closing the door behind him and hustling to the car. Being a Winchester meant knowing how to take orders, and his brain was still too clouded by panicked "maybe"s to shut off his body's autopilot.
"Dad's fine," Dean said, slamming his door shut at almost the same time as Sam and already backing out toward the highway. "Shit went down. Gonna be fine, but we think it knows where we were staying. Thought it might come after you."
Even as the knot in Sam's throat released knowing Dad was ok, he couldn't help but notice the look on his brother's face. Dean looked... well, on anybody other than Dean Winchester that would have been a decidedly freaked out expression, but Sam's brother didn't freak out; he was tough and brave and ready for anything the supernatural world could throw at him. But Sam would almost swear he could see Dean trembling in the flickers of lights they passed as they worked their way - way too fast - outside of town.
"Where are we going?" Sam asked quietly, increasingly entranced by watching his brother's not-freak out. He could work the details of what happened out of Dean once he'd calmed down.
"Just away," his brother replied, green eyes flicking over to Sam every few seconds like he might disappear. "Dad's got a trap set up for the thing back in its nest, just need to keep you away from the hunting grounds until it's over."
"We should go help him, Dean" Sam was about to rev up into a speech to talk the older Winchester into his plan when Dean suddenly cut the wheel, veering off onto a side road fast. "Dean! What the fuck!"
"You're not getting mixed up in this, Sammy. No way." Dean's tone was hard, almost angry, but his voice shook a little as they bumped down the path that could only be called a road in the technical sense. Sam couldn't believe Dean would take "his baby" down through this.
"It's Sam. And I'm not a kid. I can-"
The Impala slammed to a halt suddenly in a little clearing. Sam looked over at his brother who had clearly taken some kind of serious blow to the head or something with the way he was acting, but stopped short as he made of Dean's features in the blue light of the moon. There was no getting around it, Dean Fucking Winchester was freaking out.
"Don't you get it Sam!" It was clearly supposed to be a yell, but it came out as more of a plea, "This thing was coming after you. It said your name, it knew about you."
And suddenly Sam was being pulled halfway across the car by Dean's big arms, his face pressed into the softness of Dean's worn t-shirt, breathing in the scent that had always been the closest thing Sam knew to home. Dean's breath was hot against his ear, panting raggedly and it really really shouldn't have made Sam's cock perk up.
"Could have lost you, Sammy. The whole way over here just kept thinking about that thing getting there before me. Couldn't take it, can't lose you, baby."
Usually Sam would have balked at being called "baby" but something in the way Dean said it, with his soft lips brushing over Sam's ear and sending chill bumps in waves over his skin, gave him the feeling that Dean wasn't thinking about him as a little brother at all right now. He couldn't help the molten shot of adrenaline that worked its way through his veins at the thought. Now Dean wasn't the only one panting.
The rough stubble of Dean's jaw worked against Sam's cheek as his older brother nuzzled - nuzzled? Fucking nuzzled!? - at Sam's hair, breathing deep like it was the best smell in the whole world. Sam melted against the older Winchester, feeling his heartbeat fall into sync with the rapid-fire pound of Dean's.
Those full, fucking perfect lips pressed gently to the shell of Sam's ear and there suddenly wasn't nearly enough air in this air as they trailed further down, ghosting against the pulse point at his neck.
"Sammy," Dean breathed, and Sam was going to deny that whimper until Judgment Day.
There wasn't anything in the world except for Dean now; Dean's mouth pressing burning kisses to every inch of skin he could reach, Dean's hands roaming aver his body like he had to memorize it, Dean's smell replacing Sam's waning need for oxygen, Dean's - fuck! - hot, hard cock straining against his jeans as he moved Sam's long body to awkwardly straddle him. And then even that wasn't enough because there were whole acres of skin that Dean wasn't touching because for some reason Sam had stupidly decided to wear clothes today and that was something they had to rectify right fucking now.
The older Winchester seemed to be completely on board with the "get Sam naked" portion of the evening, right up until Sam started trying to wrestle his jeans over his ankles and Dean finally growled,
"Just get a leg free."
Which apparently were the magic words that connected directly to Sam's cock and manually overrode every other brain function he'd ever had. He plopped back down onto Dean's lap, one bare leg catching on the leather upholstery while he tried to find something comfortable to do with the weird bundle of denim clinging to the other one.
Dean tugged him in close, Sam's naked dick rubbing just this side of painfully against his brother's now-open zipper. Sam was so preoccupied by that particular sensation - and the fact that Dean was right in the middle of giving his mouth the worlds most thorough fucking with his hot, satiny tongue - that Dean's somehow slick fingers were already circling his hole before he realized what was happening. On instinct, Sam's muscles went rigid before Dean moved both of his hands up to the small of Sam's back, stroking gently and encouraging him to move back in closer to his big brother.
"Shh," Dean whispered, "its ok, baby. Not gonna hurt you. Gonna make it so good for you, Sammy."
Sam leaned back in slowly, finding his brother's lips in a much more tentative kiss that Dean turned deep again and then they were right back where they started, Dean licking his fingers wet again before pushing one softly against Sam's hole. The muscle gave way and Sam gasped at the flood of sensation, not really sure if it was pain or pleasure. But Dean kept right on pushing until Sam could feel his knuckled snugged up against him. Then Dean's finger curved and Sam's whole body went rigid for a completely different reason. It took him a second to recover from the flash-fire swell of ecstasy that left his swollen cockhead gripping precome between them, and by the time he had, Dean had already worked a second finger in, repeating that white hot stroking that left Sam seeing stars.
They might have been at this for hours, for all Sam knew - his dick was sure as hell begging to come like they had been, only stopped by the constricting pressure of Sam's thumb and forefinger - but finally Dean slid his fingers out and began shuffling to get his own cock out. Sam couldn't see very well in this light, but he'd seen his brother hard enough time to perfectly picture the blood-heavy flesh, crown slick-shiny with the wealth of precome Dean always produced and Sam fought back the urge to drop a finger down and taste it. He had a feeling he was going to need all of the lubrication he could get.
That was the moment that it finally hit him; they were going to do this, he was going to get what he'd been wanting since he could understand what wanting really was. Nothing else mattered. Not the heavy bunch of clothes trapping one leg, or the fact that there wasn't really such a thing as a comfortable position with his too-long legs bunched up like this. Not the fact the he could already feel the burn in his ass even though Dean was just now pressing the slick tip against him or the shine of headlights at the far end of the path because they could sell this on fucking pay per view for all he cared as long as that rough push didn't stop.
With a sudden flare of heat, the ring of Sam's muscle gave way and he could feel Dean's cockhead slide inside. God it was going to be embarrassing if he came just from this but he wasn't exactly sure he could stop between the pressure and that razor edge of pain/pleasure and Dean panting "yes, yes, yesyesyes!" fucking triumphantly right against he'd sucked against Sam's neck.
And then he knew he wasn't going to come because the whole world flipped sideways and - fuckinghelljesus - Dean pulled, ripped out of him with a cry and Sam was tumbling to the floorboards. The driver’s side door was open - when had that happened? - and Dean was outside on the ground wrestling around with... himself. Himself?
Sam blinked his eyes stupidly a couple of times to make sure this wasn't some weird trick of the light. No, that was definitely two Deans rolling around in the dirt, punches flying and grunted curses ripping the air.
And, ok, yeah, Sam probably should have been a little quicker on the uptake - he was a Winchester after all, it wasn't like weird ass shit didn't happen to him all the fucking time - but he figured being on the brink of having your brother - no wait, not his brother, maybe something that looked like his brother, he guessed - fuck you senseless was a pretty good excuse for impaired cognitive function. Because yeah, now that the pieces were all laid out there in front of him - or, well, slugging it out in front of him while he tried to get his pants far enough up that they wouldn't be a complete hindrance when he jumped in to help - there was only really one option. Of course Dean hadn't suddenly decided to give him everything he'd been begging for for a year, something else had, probably to get back at Dean and Dad for trying to kill it and now Dean was here to stop it from hurting Sam and... God. Had just busted in on Sam losing his virginity, getting fucked up the ass by a monster and fucking loving it. He was never, ever, ever going to live this down.
At least he could enjoy killing the damn thing.
Between the two Winchesters and Dean's incredibly sharp knife, the Dean impersonator was headless pretty damn fast, leaving just the two of them panting in the dirt with a gross parody of a headless Dean with his pants around his thighs.
"Ghoul," Dean said finally, leaning back against the cool metal of the Impala.
"Oh," Sam replied numbly, not daring to look at his brother. Then the rusty gears of his brain started to click together again. "Wait, ghouls only look like the last dead thing they ate," he said, hazel eyes meeting green in the dark.
"Yeah, well, it's not that they can't do it with living people, I guess it's just a pain in the ass. Or, you know, shoulder." Dean smiled, indicating a dark, wet patch soaking the far shoulder of his shirt.
"Jesus, Dean!" Sam rushed over to his brother without a second thought, fingers carefully peeling back the cotton tee to reveal a ragged bite mark.
"'M Fine, Sammy. Nothing that won't heal." Dean shrugged him off nonchalantly and then without anything else to concentrate on Sam realized exactly how close he was to his brother. His real brother. Not the fake one he was about to let fuck him into oblivion. Sam's guts went cold.
"Are you... ok?" Dean asked quietly, and suddenly it seemed almost weird that he hadn't asked before. He was Dean, after all, Mr. Sammy's Safety Come First. But then again, he was basically asking if the ghoul's replica of his dick had done any real damage to Sam's ass and that was just so far outside of the realm of anything Sam was prepared to deal with right now.
"Yeah, no big," Sam lied through his teeth. He wasn't hurt, but this was definitely big, and even if he didn't want to talk about it right now, he knew that in a couple of days it was going to be eating at him so badly there wouldn't be any way to avoid it. Still, that bought him another couple of days.
Sam got carefully to his feet, the sting in his backside way more noticeable now that the fight/fuck dump of adrenaline was out of his system. He tried not to let it show since he could feel Dean's eyes on him as his older brother got slowly to his feet too.
"Need to salt and burn," was all Dean said.
Sam moved to walk back to the trunk - and oh my god, the ghoul had stolen Dean's fucking car! It was lucky to have gotten off with just decapitation - to get the supplies when Dean's hand on his shoulder stopped him dead. Hesitantly, Sam angled his head just enough to look at his brother. Dean had this weird, soft expression on his face that Sam just had no damn clue what to do with but then it didn't really matter what Sam knew because Dean was leaning in and placing one very gentle but not at all chaste kiss against Sam's swollen lips. Maybe his world wasn't about to implode after all.
They just stood there for a second, looking at each other before Dean finally said,
"So are you gonna get the stuff or do I have to do all the work around here?"
His face split into the wide grin Sam was so used to and just like that it was like everything was back to the way it was supposed to be. Sam knew it wasn't, that they were going to have to deal with this, big time, very soon, but for right now he could go back to the trunk and help his big brother salt and burn a monster and everything could the Winchester's very own brand of normal
Sequel: Their Very Own Brand of Normal