Fic: The Way I Want You (Sam/Dean, NC17)
Title: The Way I Want You
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 3,300
Spoilers: Through 6x13
Author's Note: Porny character study 6x13 coda thing.
Summary: Without his soul, Sam slept with a lot of chicks. And only chicks. The noticeable absence of dudes makes Dean wonder about his own relationship with his brother.
Podfic: Here, by chemm80
“Do you think epilepsy meds would help with Hell-induced seizures?” Dean asks, eyes flicking quickly back and forth across the screen of Sam’s laptop. The bright white lighting gives his skin a greenish tint in the dark.
“I don’t know,” Sam mutters from his bed. “Will you shut that thing off?”
“Why?” Dean says. “Is the light hurting your eyes? Because that could mean -” He clicks rapidly through browser windows, searching for the diagnosis for that particular symptom.
“No, it’s not that,” Sam insists. “It’s just that you’re not going to solve anything tonight. Just give it a rest.”
Dean sighs, but the laptop’s light disappears with an audible click as the lid snaps closed. “You were the one who didn’t want to go to sleep,” Dean complains.
He kicks his shoes off. It’s pitch black but Sam knows because he hears the sound of them slamming against the wall. There are other sounds too - the rustling as Dean pulls off both his shirts at once, the zipper of his jeans, the soft thud as they fall to the ground. Sam knows every moment of Dean’s night-time routine by heart.
“I don’t want to sleep because I’m afraid of what I might dream,” Sam says, “not because I want you to keep working.”
Dean gets under the cheap motel linens with the usual slip-sliding noise. Now that his eyes are adjusting to the dark, Sam can make out his silhouette. He’s lying at the edge of the bed closest to Sam’s bed. If Sam reached his arm across the gap, they could probably touch.
“Still afraid to sleep?”
“Yeah,” Sam admits, though he knows Dean will probably suggest he get a Pretty Princess Nightlight or something.
“I’ll wake you up if you’re having a nightmare.”
“You’ll be asleep.”
“I’m a light sleeper when I need to be.”
Sam grunts in acknowledgement, because Dean’s right about that. Dad managed to condition some kind of internal alarm system into Dean that he never got around to installing in Sam. Or maybe he didn’t think it was necessary to do it for both of them, because they’d always be together.
“You’re not sleeping,” Dean says into the dark, five minutes later.
“Nope.”
“Fine. If you’re not sleeping, I’m not sleeping either.” The covers rustle as Dean rolls onto his back, getting settled in for a long night of wakefulness.
Sam sighs, and rolls onto his own back, staring at the ceiling. The red light of the plastic smoke detector blinks exactly every 46 seconds.
“So,” Dean says finally, breaking the silence. “You sure banged a lot of chicks when you weren’t you.” His voice is too casual. It’s not something anyone else would notice, but after hundreds of hunts Sam’s pretty attuned to the nuance of Dean’s dishonesty.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about that town ever again.” Dean had wanted to take Sam to a hospital after the seizure, but Sam had insisted it wasn’t necessary. He knew how difficult it was to get out of a hospital unnoticed once they’d checked you in and hooked you up to machines. So instead Dean had wrapped Sam in an old wool blanket they’d stolen from the dump they’d been squatting in, and put the pedal to the metal on the way out of town. This was the first motel they’d seen along the highway.
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t only that town. I was abducted by...aliens...and you were busy hooking up with some hippy chick.”
Sam winces. “Sorry, Dean.”
Dean huffs in irritation. “Don’t be sorry, man. It wasn’t you. I’m just saying, there were a lot of chicks.”
“So?”
“There were a lot of chicks, Sammy. And as far as I know, not a single dude.”
The silence is heavy between their beds. Sam lets his arm hang off the edge of the bed, and he could swear the air actually feels thick.
“Oh,” he says. His throat feels tight. They’re edging dangerously close to a subject they haven’t touched since Dean went to Hell, since the last time they’d really felt like brothers. Since before Ruby and demon blood and Lucifer.
“Oh? That’s all you’ve got?” The tension in Dean’s voice is confusing, and frightening.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Of course it means something!” Dean rolls to his side again, facing Sam, and Sam fixes his eyes on the blinking red light of the smoke detector. “Your primal, basic self or whatever isn’t into guys. You’re not even gay, Sam, so what we were doing -” Dean’s voice trails off.
Sam tears his eyes away from the smoke detector. He rolls onto his side. He can’t make out the expression in Dean’s eyes in the dark, but he can see that his jaw is set. “Yeah well you’re not exactly opposed to sleeping with women either,” he snaps.
“No, but I’ve slept with guys other than you. Have you?” Dean waits. Sam can see his fingers twisted up in the bed sheets.
“No,” Sam admits with reluctance.
“Fuck!” Dean exclaims, shattering the loaded silence and making Sam twitch. “Jesus fucking Christ Sam, I’m sorry.”
Sam is so prepared for a screaming match he almost doesn’t hear the apology. “Wait, what? What the Hell are you sorry for?”
Dean gets out of his bed and paces the tiny room in his bare feet. Sam resists the urge to tell him to put on some shoes because he doesn’t know what’s happened on that floor. “I should never have touched you, Sam. You were just a confused kid and I took advantage. Turns out it’s not even something you really wanted.”
“Hold on just a second,” Sam interjects, pushing his own covers back and sitting up. “I was the one who first kissed you.” Sam remembers a freezing cold night in a motel room with a busted radiator. Remembers he and Dean curled up under one blanket, Dean’s arms wrapped around him to keep him warm. He remembers pushing his lips against Dean’s and feeling awestruck when Dean didn’t pull away.
“Yeah well you didn’t know what you were doing,” this older, anxious Dean says as he paces. “You were just a child.”
“And so were you!” Sam practically screams. “Christ, haven’t we had enough crises about this?”
Dean stops pacing. He kneels in the space between the two beds. “I did some research, Sam. About incest.” He still lowers his voice when he says that word, like someone could overhear them in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere.
“You did research?” Sam says, desperate to make a joke, to break this wall of panic that’s suddenly grown up between them.
“Yes, dumbass. And it’s really fucked up, some of the stuff that happens when one person has like, authority, over the other. I was older and you looked up to me and I abused that power. Turns out you’re not even the slightest bit gay.” It takes a lot to get him there, but Dean rambles when he’s nervous. “I’m going to Hell. Again. We should tell Cas not to bother bringing me back, next time we see him.”
“Dean!” Sam says, and Dean’s eyes snap to his face. They’re wide with panic and it makes Sam’s chest hurt. He leans forward and kisses Dean firmly on the mouth, like he hasn’t done in years.
Dean kisses him back, mouth opening under Sam’s like he’s gasping and Sam pushes forward. He barely has time to register the familiar taste of Dean’s mouth before they overbalance, and Sam has to grab the headboard to keep from toppling off the bed, while Dean falls backward onto his ass.
“Ow,” Dean says. His breathing is ragged. “You nearly crushed me, fucking Sasquatch.”
Sam laughs too loudly, overcome with relief. “So how’s that for ‘not even the slightest bit gay?’” he says defiantly, once he’s caught his breath.
Sam can’t see Dean’s scowl, but he can hear it in his voice. “I can’t believe you’re making fun of me right now. I am having a moral freak-out about our sexual history, here.”
“Completely unnecessarily,” Sam says. “C’mere.”
Dean crawls the few feet to the edge of Sam’s bed. “What?” His voice is wary.
Sam grabs Dean’s wrist and pulls, tugging Dean onto the bed. His brother isn’t prepared for the motion and ends up sprawled across Sam’s body, his mouth at Sam’s ear. “Hey,” he says, and straightens up immediately. He ends up kneeling with one knee on either side of Sam’s body, and Sam looks up the length of Dean’s naked torso and winks.
“Somehow I don’t think you’re taking this seriously,” Dean complains, but Sam can see his chest rising and falling more quickly than usual. “This is some fucked up shit we’re talking about, here.”
Sam is giddy with the feeling of Dean’s weight holding him down, but he makes his voice as serious as possible. “I’m not denying we’re fucked up, Dean,” he says, “I’m just saying we’re in it together. Think what you want about when we were kids - though I don’t remember doing anything I didn’t really wanna do - but you can’t say I was anything other than a consenting adult when you came to get me at Stanford. This is just as much my fault as yours.” For emphasis, Sam reaches up and squeezes Dean’s ass.
Dean swats Sam’s hand away. “You’d just lost your girlfriend. You were grieving and irrational.”
Sam snorts, and reaches up to grab Dean by the waist and pull him down so their noses are almost touching. “I am - and have always been - ten times more rational than you are, Dean.”
Then he kisses Dean again, and this time they’re in a much more stable position. Dean tastes the same as he always has, a taste Sam associates with safety, and comfort and home. Sam arches his back, pushing his tongue further into Dean’s mouth, and grinding his rapidly hardening cock against Dean’s leg.
“Hey, wait, stop,” Dean mutters against Sam’s mouth. His fingers are tangled in Sam’s hair, and he uses it to pull Sam’s head down, holding them apart. The pain sends jolts of excitement running the entire length of Sam’s body, and he wonders if Dean can feel them too, like electricity passing between them. “There’s still the whole you’re-not-really-gay issue.”
Sam groans in frustration. He thrusts upward again, making damn sure Dean can feel the hard length of his cock. “Yeah, Dean, I’m totally repulsed by your manliness right now. You’re such an idiot. Did it ever occur to you that maybe the way I want you has something to do with my soul?”
Sam can see that Dean’s trying to maintain eye contact, but his eyes keep drifting to Sam’s mouth instead. “So what,” he says, “you want me with your soul, not your dick?”
Sam can’t help but smile at the perplexed expression of Dean’s face. “I think it’s a little of both actually, but maybe they’re so mixed up together they can’t work independently. Whatever it is, it’s working - and I don’t need to look a gift horse in the mouth.” He kisses Dean again, fierce clashing of tongues and teeth this time as he gets impatient. It’s been years since he had this, but Sam thinks he might die if he has to wait ten more seconds.
Dean pulls away again and oh my god Sam is going to kill his brother. “Did you just call me a horse?” Dean asks. His smile is wide and bright even in the dark, and Sam understands this is payback, that he’s the one being teased now.
“Fuck me,” Sam moans, and he’d meant that to come out a little more than like an order and less like begging.
“If I’m a horse, why are you the one looking to be ridden?” Dean asks. His mouth is warm and wet where he latches to Sam’s throat, sucking hard like he’s trying to leave a mark. Sam squirms underneath him, but Dean’s got leverage and Sam’s out of breath already, so he has no luck getting much friction going.
“I’ll do anything you want, just please fuck me,” Sam says, giving up entirely on the idea of holding on to his dignity. He fully expects Dean to milk this opportunity, to make him beg for it. He’s not above getting on his knees, actually.
“Okay,” Dean says, and Sam is thrilled, and then climbs off of the bed so Sam is bitterly disappointed.
“What the fuck?” Sam says. Half of him wants to panic, and the other half wants to throw a pillow at Dean’s head.
“Calm down. I went to get the lube,” Dean says, undertone of laughter in his voice when he climbs back onto the bed, straddling Sam again. He leans forward to kiss him, and it’s only when Sam feels the hot length of Dean’s cock pressed against his stomach that he realizes Dean has ditched his underwear somewhere. Sam lifts his hips, tugging off his boxers too, and tossing them aside. They hit a lamp or something, and the air rings with a sharp metallic sound. Dean snorts.
“Shut up,” Sam says, and pulls Dean down by the back of his neck for another kiss. He’s gratified when Dean whimpers as his cock slides up Sam’s bare stomach. Dean thrusts involuntarily into Sam’s stomach, leaving a sticky trail of pre-come. He pulls away after a few moments, dragging his stubbled chin against Sam’s throat. It stings, and Sam retaliates by digging his fingernails into Dean’s shoulders.
“Okay, okay,” Dean says, and Sam can see his lips moving like he’s reciting car parts or something to keep from coming to soon. “Didja want me to fuck you, or what?”
“Yes, please,” Sam says with his sweetest grin.
“Shit,” Dean mutters, his voice low and rough and desperate. He fumbles to rip open a condom package he pulls from behind him.
“You think you caught something?”
“Naw, Lisa had me get tested. But we actually have no fucking idea where you’ve been now do we?” Dean rolls on the condom, then sits back on his haunches and snaps open the tube of lube.
“Guess I should find an STD clinic tomorrow.”
“Mmm,” Dean squeezes a generous amount of lube into his palm, and cups his hands to warm it up. “Or we could just get Cas to check you out. If he can bring Bobby back to life, a simple case of Chlamydia shouldn’t be a problem.”
Sam winces at the thought.
“Oh believe me, Cas has done much more invasive things to you lately,” Dean says, in a tone that isn’t altogether reassuring. “He like, reached into your chest and tried to touch your soul. He made you bite down on his belt and shit. If I hadn’t been about to piss myself with fear it might have been hot, actually.”
Sam sighs exaggeratedly. “I’m back for less than a week and already you’re angling for a threesome with your hot angel friend.”
Dean shuffles closer and pushes Sam’s legs farther apart. He pushes one well-lubricated finger into Sam, and Sam groans appreciatively. “You’ll do for now,” Dean teases as he slowly adds a second finger.
Sam closes his fists around the bed sheets and closes his eyes, savouring the sensation. He bits his bottom lip and moans as Dean scissors his fingers, stretching him out.
“Gee, did you miss this?” Dean says. There’s laughter in his voice, but there’s also awe. Sam opens his eyes to see Dean staring down at his face, rapt.
Sam’s not thinking with his upstairs brain enough to make a snappy comeback. “So much,” he says honestly. “Remind me why we ever stopped again?”
“Angels, demons, prophecies, the end of the world. It’s all bullshit, actually.” Dean pulls his fingers out and coats his cock with more lube.
“Right.” Sam wraps his arms around Dean’s neck as Dean leans forward and lines himself up. Sam can feel the head of Dean’s cock nudging against him. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Sam confirms, breathless. “I’m done talking now.”
“Yup,” Dean agrees, and pushes himself slowly inside Sam. It burns and Sam has to swallow through the pain, though Dean is moving slowly.
Dean grunts, and whispers against Sam’s ear. “You are tight. I guess we can confirm that replicant Sam is definitely not into dudes. Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Don’t,” Sam manages to say, though he’s too overwhelmed to get out more than one word at a time. “S’good.” He spreads his legs wider and raises them, forcing Dean deeper. “Move.”
Dean does, thrusting slowly. He keeps his wide eyes on Sam’s face, concentrating as he increases both their speed and depth. The burn fades after a few minutes, and is replaced by a blissful, perfect pressure. Sam unlaces his hand from around Dean’s neck and grabs his ass instead, changing the rhythm and encouraging him to move faster.
“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, his breath hot against Sam’s collarbone as he leans over to thrust as deeply as possible. Dean rests all his weight on one arm and on Sam’s body, and reaches between them with the other. He wraps his calloused palm around Sam’s cock and strokes in time with their fucking. Between the pressure of Dean’s cock inside him and his hand wrapped around him, it’s all Sam can do to scream Dean’s name before he’s coming in hot spurts between their stomachs.
Dean thrusts once, twice, three times more before he comes too, collapsing on top of Sam as his arms give out beneath him. Dean’s body shudders for a full two minutes post-orgasm, and Sam strokes his brother’s hair and enjoys the pleasant, heavy feeling of his own loose limbs trapped underneath Dean’s.
Dean groans when he finally pulls out. He manages to tie off the condom and throw it in the general direction of the trash can before he collapses back down on his back next to Sam. Their shoulders, hips and toes touch as they lie side-by-side.
Sam counts three blinks of the smoke detector light before either of them speaks, but this is a comfortable, sated kind of silence. “So,” Sam finally says, “you still think I’m straight?
“Don’t care if you are,” Dean answers, “going to do that every day for the rest of my life.” He leans so far over the edge of the bed that Sam’s afraid he’s going to fall off, but comes back with the pillow from the other bed, his own bed. He uses the pillow to wipe the spunk and sweat off of Sam’s stomach.
“Ew, you’re disgusting,” Sam protests.
“What? It’s not like we need the other bed. We’re king-sizing it from now on, though.” Dean half-heartedly elbows Sam. “You bed hog.”
“Can’t help it. I’m so much taller than you I just need more space.” Sam struggles to pull the covers out from underneath them, then spreads the comforter over them both.
“Whatever,” Dean says. They fall back into comfortable silence for a few moments. “You still afraid to go to sleep?”
Sam considers it. Dean is a warm, sleepy weight beside him and the motel radiator’s exhausted clanging is like a familiar lullaby. “Nope,” he says. “You still feel guilty about all our sex?”
“Nope,” Dean says without hesitation.
“Good,” Sam says, for both of them. Tomorrow they’ll drink shitty diner coffee and eat slimy diner eggs, and Dean will kick him under the table. Sam will scan the papers for a new case while Dean calls Bobby to see if they have any leads on how to build the wall back up. Then they’ll find a clinic to get Sam tested for STDs, or maybe he will just shoot a quick prayer in Cas’ direction in case he has the time. Tomorrow there will still be angels, demons, prophecies and a world to save, but for tonight there’s just Sam and Dean.
***
Porn, schmoop and straight-up Wincest! What is the world coming to? We will return to your regularly scheduled Dean/Cas angst...eventually. Just needed to get that out of my system before the next ep.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 3,300
Spoilers: Through 6x13
Author's Note: Porny character study 6x13 coda thing.
Summary: Without his soul, Sam slept with a lot of chicks. And only chicks. The noticeable absence of dudes makes Dean wonder about his own relationship with his brother.
Podfic: Here, by chemm80
“Do you think epilepsy meds would help with Hell-induced seizures?” Dean asks, eyes flicking quickly back and forth across the screen of Sam’s laptop. The bright white lighting gives his skin a greenish tint in the dark.
“I don’t know,” Sam mutters from his bed. “Will you shut that thing off?”
“Why?” Dean says. “Is the light hurting your eyes? Because that could mean -” He clicks rapidly through browser windows, searching for the diagnosis for that particular symptom.
“No, it’s not that,” Sam insists. “It’s just that you’re not going to solve anything tonight. Just give it a rest.”
Dean sighs, but the laptop’s light disappears with an audible click as the lid snaps closed. “You were the one who didn’t want to go to sleep,” Dean complains.
He kicks his shoes off. It’s pitch black but Sam knows because he hears the sound of them slamming against the wall. There are other sounds too - the rustling as Dean pulls off both his shirts at once, the zipper of his jeans, the soft thud as they fall to the ground. Sam knows every moment of Dean’s night-time routine by heart.
“I don’t want to sleep because I’m afraid of what I might dream,” Sam says, “not because I want you to keep working.”
Dean gets under the cheap motel linens with the usual slip-sliding noise. Now that his eyes are adjusting to the dark, Sam can make out his silhouette. He’s lying at the edge of the bed closest to Sam’s bed. If Sam reached his arm across the gap, they could probably touch.
“Still afraid to sleep?”
“Yeah,” Sam admits, though he knows Dean will probably suggest he get a Pretty Princess Nightlight or something.
“I’ll wake you up if you’re having a nightmare.”
“You’ll be asleep.”
“I’m a light sleeper when I need to be.”
Sam grunts in acknowledgement, because Dean’s right about that. Dad managed to condition some kind of internal alarm system into Dean that he never got around to installing in Sam. Or maybe he didn’t think it was necessary to do it for both of them, because they’d always be together.
“You’re not sleeping,” Dean says into the dark, five minutes later.
“Nope.”
“Fine. If you’re not sleeping, I’m not sleeping either.” The covers rustle as Dean rolls onto his back, getting settled in for a long night of wakefulness.
Sam sighs, and rolls onto his own back, staring at the ceiling. The red light of the plastic smoke detector blinks exactly every 46 seconds.
“So,” Dean says finally, breaking the silence. “You sure banged a lot of chicks when you weren’t you.” His voice is too casual. It’s not something anyone else would notice, but after hundreds of hunts Sam’s pretty attuned to the nuance of Dean’s dishonesty.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about that town ever again.” Dean had wanted to take Sam to a hospital after the seizure, but Sam had insisted it wasn’t necessary. He knew how difficult it was to get out of a hospital unnoticed once they’d checked you in and hooked you up to machines. So instead Dean had wrapped Sam in an old wool blanket they’d stolen from the dump they’d been squatting in, and put the pedal to the metal on the way out of town. This was the first motel they’d seen along the highway.
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t only that town. I was abducted by...aliens...and you were busy hooking up with some hippy chick.”
Sam winces. “Sorry, Dean.”
Dean huffs in irritation. “Don’t be sorry, man. It wasn’t you. I’m just saying, there were a lot of chicks.”
“So?”
“There were a lot of chicks, Sammy. And as far as I know, not a single dude.”
The silence is heavy between their beds. Sam lets his arm hang off the edge of the bed, and he could swear the air actually feels thick.
“Oh,” he says. His throat feels tight. They’re edging dangerously close to a subject they haven’t touched since Dean went to Hell, since the last time they’d really felt like brothers. Since before Ruby and demon blood and Lucifer.
“Oh? That’s all you’ve got?” The tension in Dean’s voice is confusing, and frightening.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Of course it means something!” Dean rolls to his side again, facing Sam, and Sam fixes his eyes on the blinking red light of the smoke detector. “Your primal, basic self or whatever isn’t into guys. You’re not even gay, Sam, so what we were doing -” Dean’s voice trails off.
Sam tears his eyes away from the smoke detector. He rolls onto his side. He can’t make out the expression in Dean’s eyes in the dark, but he can see that his jaw is set. “Yeah well you’re not exactly opposed to sleeping with women either,” he snaps.
“No, but I’ve slept with guys other than you. Have you?” Dean waits. Sam can see his fingers twisted up in the bed sheets.
“No,” Sam admits with reluctance.
“Fuck!” Dean exclaims, shattering the loaded silence and making Sam twitch. “Jesus fucking Christ Sam, I’m sorry.”
Sam is so prepared for a screaming match he almost doesn’t hear the apology. “Wait, what? What the Hell are you sorry for?”
Dean gets out of his bed and paces the tiny room in his bare feet. Sam resists the urge to tell him to put on some shoes because he doesn’t know what’s happened on that floor. “I should never have touched you, Sam. You were just a confused kid and I took advantage. Turns out it’s not even something you really wanted.”
“Hold on just a second,” Sam interjects, pushing his own covers back and sitting up. “I was the one who first kissed you.” Sam remembers a freezing cold night in a motel room with a busted radiator. Remembers he and Dean curled up under one blanket, Dean’s arms wrapped around him to keep him warm. He remembers pushing his lips against Dean’s and feeling awestruck when Dean didn’t pull away.
“Yeah well you didn’t know what you were doing,” this older, anxious Dean says as he paces. “You were just a child.”
“And so were you!” Sam practically screams. “Christ, haven’t we had enough crises about this?”
Dean stops pacing. He kneels in the space between the two beds. “I did some research, Sam. About incest.” He still lowers his voice when he says that word, like someone could overhear them in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere.
“You did research?” Sam says, desperate to make a joke, to break this wall of panic that’s suddenly grown up between them.
“Yes, dumbass. And it’s really fucked up, some of the stuff that happens when one person has like, authority, over the other. I was older and you looked up to me and I abused that power. Turns out you’re not even the slightest bit gay.” It takes a lot to get him there, but Dean rambles when he’s nervous. “I’m going to Hell. Again. We should tell Cas not to bother bringing me back, next time we see him.”
“Dean!” Sam says, and Dean’s eyes snap to his face. They’re wide with panic and it makes Sam’s chest hurt. He leans forward and kisses Dean firmly on the mouth, like he hasn’t done in years.
Dean kisses him back, mouth opening under Sam’s like he’s gasping and Sam pushes forward. He barely has time to register the familiar taste of Dean’s mouth before they overbalance, and Sam has to grab the headboard to keep from toppling off the bed, while Dean falls backward onto his ass.
“Ow,” Dean says. His breathing is ragged. “You nearly crushed me, fucking Sasquatch.”
Sam laughs too loudly, overcome with relief. “So how’s that for ‘not even the slightest bit gay?’” he says defiantly, once he’s caught his breath.
Sam can’t see Dean’s scowl, but he can hear it in his voice. “I can’t believe you’re making fun of me right now. I am having a moral freak-out about our sexual history, here.”
“Completely unnecessarily,” Sam says. “C’mere.”
Dean crawls the few feet to the edge of Sam’s bed. “What?” His voice is wary.
Sam grabs Dean’s wrist and pulls, tugging Dean onto the bed. His brother isn’t prepared for the motion and ends up sprawled across Sam’s body, his mouth at Sam’s ear. “Hey,” he says, and straightens up immediately. He ends up kneeling with one knee on either side of Sam’s body, and Sam looks up the length of Dean’s naked torso and winks.
“Somehow I don’t think you’re taking this seriously,” Dean complains, but Sam can see his chest rising and falling more quickly than usual. “This is some fucked up shit we’re talking about, here.”
Sam is giddy with the feeling of Dean’s weight holding him down, but he makes his voice as serious as possible. “I’m not denying we’re fucked up, Dean,” he says, “I’m just saying we’re in it together. Think what you want about when we were kids - though I don’t remember doing anything I didn’t really wanna do - but you can’t say I was anything other than a consenting adult when you came to get me at Stanford. This is just as much my fault as yours.” For emphasis, Sam reaches up and squeezes Dean’s ass.
Dean swats Sam’s hand away. “You’d just lost your girlfriend. You were grieving and irrational.”
Sam snorts, and reaches up to grab Dean by the waist and pull him down so their noses are almost touching. “I am - and have always been - ten times more rational than you are, Dean.”
Then he kisses Dean again, and this time they’re in a much more stable position. Dean tastes the same as he always has, a taste Sam associates with safety, and comfort and home. Sam arches his back, pushing his tongue further into Dean’s mouth, and grinding his rapidly hardening cock against Dean’s leg.
“Hey, wait, stop,” Dean mutters against Sam’s mouth. His fingers are tangled in Sam’s hair, and he uses it to pull Sam’s head down, holding them apart. The pain sends jolts of excitement running the entire length of Sam’s body, and he wonders if Dean can feel them too, like electricity passing between them. “There’s still the whole you’re-not-really-gay issue.”
Sam groans in frustration. He thrusts upward again, making damn sure Dean can feel the hard length of his cock. “Yeah, Dean, I’m totally repulsed by your manliness right now. You’re such an idiot. Did it ever occur to you that maybe the way I want you has something to do with my soul?”
Sam can see that Dean’s trying to maintain eye contact, but his eyes keep drifting to Sam’s mouth instead. “So what,” he says, “you want me with your soul, not your dick?”
Sam can’t help but smile at the perplexed expression of Dean’s face. “I think it’s a little of both actually, but maybe they’re so mixed up together they can’t work independently. Whatever it is, it’s working - and I don’t need to look a gift horse in the mouth.” He kisses Dean again, fierce clashing of tongues and teeth this time as he gets impatient. It’s been years since he had this, but Sam thinks he might die if he has to wait ten more seconds.
Dean pulls away again and oh my god Sam is going to kill his brother. “Did you just call me a horse?” Dean asks. His smile is wide and bright even in the dark, and Sam understands this is payback, that he’s the one being teased now.
“Fuck me,” Sam moans, and he’d meant that to come out a little more than like an order and less like begging.
“If I’m a horse, why are you the one looking to be ridden?” Dean asks. His mouth is warm and wet where he latches to Sam’s throat, sucking hard like he’s trying to leave a mark. Sam squirms underneath him, but Dean’s got leverage and Sam’s out of breath already, so he has no luck getting much friction going.
“I’ll do anything you want, just please fuck me,” Sam says, giving up entirely on the idea of holding on to his dignity. He fully expects Dean to milk this opportunity, to make him beg for it. He’s not above getting on his knees, actually.
“Okay,” Dean says, and Sam is thrilled, and then climbs off of the bed so Sam is bitterly disappointed.
“What the fuck?” Sam says. Half of him wants to panic, and the other half wants to throw a pillow at Dean’s head.
“Calm down. I went to get the lube,” Dean says, undertone of laughter in his voice when he climbs back onto the bed, straddling Sam again. He leans forward to kiss him, and it’s only when Sam feels the hot length of Dean’s cock pressed against his stomach that he realizes Dean has ditched his underwear somewhere. Sam lifts his hips, tugging off his boxers too, and tossing them aside. They hit a lamp or something, and the air rings with a sharp metallic sound. Dean snorts.
“Shut up,” Sam says, and pulls Dean down by the back of his neck for another kiss. He’s gratified when Dean whimpers as his cock slides up Sam’s bare stomach. Dean thrusts involuntarily into Sam’s stomach, leaving a sticky trail of pre-come. He pulls away after a few moments, dragging his stubbled chin against Sam’s throat. It stings, and Sam retaliates by digging his fingernails into Dean’s shoulders.
“Okay, okay,” Dean says, and Sam can see his lips moving like he’s reciting car parts or something to keep from coming to soon. “Didja want me to fuck you, or what?”
“Yes, please,” Sam says with his sweetest grin.
“Shit,” Dean mutters, his voice low and rough and desperate. He fumbles to rip open a condom package he pulls from behind him.
“You think you caught something?”
“Naw, Lisa had me get tested. But we actually have no fucking idea where you’ve been now do we?” Dean rolls on the condom, then sits back on his haunches and snaps open the tube of lube.
“Guess I should find an STD clinic tomorrow.”
“Mmm,” Dean squeezes a generous amount of lube into his palm, and cups his hands to warm it up. “Or we could just get Cas to check you out. If he can bring Bobby back to life, a simple case of Chlamydia shouldn’t be a problem.”
Sam winces at the thought.
“Oh believe me, Cas has done much more invasive things to you lately,” Dean says, in a tone that isn’t altogether reassuring. “He like, reached into your chest and tried to touch your soul. He made you bite down on his belt and shit. If I hadn’t been about to piss myself with fear it might have been hot, actually.”
Sam sighs exaggeratedly. “I’m back for less than a week and already you’re angling for a threesome with your hot angel friend.”
Dean shuffles closer and pushes Sam’s legs farther apart. He pushes one well-lubricated finger into Sam, and Sam groans appreciatively. “You’ll do for now,” Dean teases as he slowly adds a second finger.
Sam closes his fists around the bed sheets and closes his eyes, savouring the sensation. He bits his bottom lip and moans as Dean scissors his fingers, stretching him out.
“Gee, did you miss this?” Dean says. There’s laughter in his voice, but there’s also awe. Sam opens his eyes to see Dean staring down at his face, rapt.
Sam’s not thinking with his upstairs brain enough to make a snappy comeback. “So much,” he says honestly. “Remind me why we ever stopped again?”
“Angels, demons, prophecies, the end of the world. It’s all bullshit, actually.” Dean pulls his fingers out and coats his cock with more lube.
“Right.” Sam wraps his arms around Dean’s neck as Dean leans forward and lines himself up. Sam can feel the head of Dean’s cock nudging against him. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Sam confirms, breathless. “I’m done talking now.”
“Yup,” Dean agrees, and pushes himself slowly inside Sam. It burns and Sam has to swallow through the pain, though Dean is moving slowly.
Dean grunts, and whispers against Sam’s ear. “You are tight. I guess we can confirm that replicant Sam is definitely not into dudes. Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Don’t,” Sam manages to say, though he’s too overwhelmed to get out more than one word at a time. “S’good.” He spreads his legs wider and raises them, forcing Dean deeper. “Move.”
Dean does, thrusting slowly. He keeps his wide eyes on Sam’s face, concentrating as he increases both their speed and depth. The burn fades after a few minutes, and is replaced by a blissful, perfect pressure. Sam unlaces his hand from around Dean’s neck and grabs his ass instead, changing the rhythm and encouraging him to move faster.
“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, his breath hot against Sam’s collarbone as he leans over to thrust as deeply as possible. Dean rests all his weight on one arm and on Sam’s body, and reaches between them with the other. He wraps his calloused palm around Sam’s cock and strokes in time with their fucking. Between the pressure of Dean’s cock inside him and his hand wrapped around him, it’s all Sam can do to scream Dean’s name before he’s coming in hot spurts between their stomachs.
Dean thrusts once, twice, three times more before he comes too, collapsing on top of Sam as his arms give out beneath him. Dean’s body shudders for a full two minutes post-orgasm, and Sam strokes his brother’s hair and enjoys the pleasant, heavy feeling of his own loose limbs trapped underneath Dean’s.
Dean groans when he finally pulls out. He manages to tie off the condom and throw it in the general direction of the trash can before he collapses back down on his back next to Sam. Their shoulders, hips and toes touch as they lie side-by-side.
Sam counts three blinks of the smoke detector light before either of them speaks, but this is a comfortable, sated kind of silence. “So,” Sam finally says, “you still think I’m straight?
“Don’t care if you are,” Dean answers, “going to do that every day for the rest of my life.” He leans so far over the edge of the bed that Sam’s afraid he’s going to fall off, but comes back with the pillow from the other bed, his own bed. He uses the pillow to wipe the spunk and sweat off of Sam’s stomach.
“Ew, you’re disgusting,” Sam protests.
“What? It’s not like we need the other bed. We’re king-sizing it from now on, though.” Dean half-heartedly elbows Sam. “You bed hog.”
“Can’t help it. I’m so much taller than you I just need more space.” Sam struggles to pull the covers out from underneath them, then spreads the comforter over them both.
“Whatever,” Dean says. They fall back into comfortable silence for a few moments. “You still afraid to go to sleep?”
Sam considers it. Dean is a warm, sleepy weight beside him and the motel radiator’s exhausted clanging is like a familiar lullaby. “Nope,” he says. “You still feel guilty about all our sex?”
“Nope,” Dean says without hesitation.
“Good,” Sam says, for both of them. Tomorrow they’ll drink shitty diner coffee and eat slimy diner eggs, and Dean will kick him under the table. Sam will scan the papers for a new case while Dean calls Bobby to see if they have any leads on how to build the wall back up. Then they’ll find a clinic to get Sam tested for STDs, or maybe he will just shoot a quick prayer in Cas’ direction in case he has the time. Tomorrow there will still be angels, demons, prophecies and a world to save, but for tonight there’s just Sam and Dean.
***
Porn, schmoop and straight-up Wincest! What is the world coming to? We will return to your regularly scheduled Dean/Cas angst...eventually. Just needed to get that out of my system before the next ep.