(Untitled)

[ensamclopedia]

Three a.m. Another shitty motel in another shitty town on their endless shitty road trip. They weren't any closer to finding Dad, or anything about their mother's killer, or Jess'. Sam couldn't sleep. God knows how Dean could, but he was, face down and in exactly the same position he'd landed in when he'd crashed into his personal shitty motel

Comments

[winchester_lost]

Dean had been quite happily asleep, having rather unimaginative dreams of having sex with hot people. Had been, that was, until he was jolted awake by the sound of the can opening and the soda fizzing over. Luckily for Sam, he was hardly awake at all when he started moving, and his hands had slipped away from the knife under his pillow while he slept. So, when Dean launched himself off the bed, it was thankfully without his buck knife in hand

[ensamclopedia]

The soda hit the ground with a thud and splashed over his boot and pantleg, and possibly Dean's ankles, before they both went flying backwards. Sam was wide awake and very aware of who he was fighting. Hell, he'd seen Dean launch himself off of the bed, but it's hard to get out something coherent when someone's coming at you all fists and fury. A mostly-naked Dean on him trying to punch him, taking wild swings and Sam went into automatic response then. He caught one fist hard, but raised his arms to block the next swing and quickly found himself back to the wall. Dean was grappling for his arms, working for a pin but Sam wasn't having any of that. He was pushing him off, never letting him catch him by the wrists

[winchester_lost]

There was soda on Dean's ankles, a fact which he would likely bemoan rather loudly later. However, for now it was ignored in favor of subduing his mystery assailant. They were back against the wall, and they were good. He was awake enough by this point that if he'd been thinking, he would have realized who it was that had been in their motel room and that he really shouldn't be trying to maul his brother. But, as usual, Dean wasn't thinking. Adrenaline was singing through his veins, and the struggle felt divine. Because he was good at this too, and he was enjoying the struggle, the way they weren't making it easy for him to pin them. They were fighting back now, and Dean took a couple grazing blows that would probably bruise later

[ensamclopedia]

Sam almost had him, had caught his wrists and almost had him pinned but Dean twisted out of it. Everything was all hands and fast motions, predictable, because Sam knew Dean, he knew the way he moved, the way he thought, the beat of his motions, the cadence. When Dean was fighting, it was poetic, and probably the most graceful he ever was

[winchester_lost]

Dean didn't quite register that groan, not in the way that he should have, at least. For the moment he was busy trying to pin down his assailant's obnoxiously long arms. He almost hand it, almost hand him thoroughly restrained, when he started moving again, fighting back. A hand moved and wrapped around Dean's throat, making the older hunter's breath hitch in a stuttered gasp as their bodies squirmed together, even as Dean tried to displace the fingers at his throat. He grunted roughly as Sam flipped them, Dean hitting the floor hard, those fingers not having moved from around his throat. He struggled, squirming, but Sam got his right hand firmly pressed to floor. Dean lashed out, but his left hand was weaker and didn't seem to have much effect

[ensamclopedia]

Sam could sort of see him, but not really. There was just the barest hint of light and it caught Dean's features in a dim relief, but the light caught the backside of Sam and left his face in darkness for Dean.

Sam was torn. He wasn't sure if Dean realized it was him, and if he didn't, he should stop and make sure he was okay with what was happening. And what was happening? But, his mind raced on to point out, if he didn't know it was Sam he wouldn't have let it end here. At least not quite so easily, because he'd seen Dean get out of pins like this before, if he really wanted to. He had to know. And if he knew, and was still squirming up to rub himself over Sam? Then it was okay to continue, because he knew he was willing. Especially here in the dark, where it was easy not to deal with this right now and just enjoy it, let it happen

[winchester_lost]

The dim lighting, the way Sam was silhouetted by the light, just made it that much easier to not focus on the reality of what was happening right now. Which Dean approved of, because thinking would mean stopping, having to wrap his mind around the fact that he was rather gleefully grinding up against his younger brother. And Dean was enjoying it far too much to let something silly like the reality of the situation get in the way of the warm sensations curling through his body

[ensamclopedia]

Sam wanted to lose his jeans, but he didn't want to break the spell. For the moment, though, he was really caught up in what was suddenly occurring to him. Dean wasn't just okay that it was him, he was okay that he was a him. More than letting it slide that they were related, to undoubtedly be brought up at some awkward moment later by Dean who always claimed not to like the chick flick moments, he was clearly getting off on grinding up on another dude. Hm. You learn things about people every day. To be honest, though, he wasn't terribly surprised.

He hadn't missed his sharp gasp, clearly having to do with the hand at his throat. Interesting. He'd test that theory later, but now he stroked his fingertips over Dean's throat lightly and then abruptly reached down between their bodies to palm Dean's erection in one large, hot hand. First it was just pressure and then a slow, welcoming squeeze, fingertips able to reach his balls while the heel of his hand was firm against his erection.

[winchester_lost]

Dean murmured as fingers stroked over his throat, half a protest against the way fingers pulled from his throat, half soft pleasure. He was enjoying that, enjoying grinding against Sam's denim covered erection, when fingers abruptly slipped between them. A large, strong hand palming over his aching erection, then fingers curled slowly around him. Pressure that was all pleasure, tore a light groan from those full lips. Dean panted for breath for a moment, before letting the hand that wasn't pinned down slip down between them and pop the button of Sam's jeans, tugging at the zipper and trying to negotiate access. He wanted to touch and feel... as good as the friction of grinding was, it seemed entirely unfair as things were now