Slash fic, Supernatural (Sam/Dean) NC-17
*sighs* Formatting fixed. Thanks for letting me know.
Title: What Dreams May Cum
Author: Epeeblade
Pairing: Sam/Dean, omcs
Rating: NC-17 for smut, smut, smut. Uh, quite possibly an X.
Genre: Smut, with a little bit of plot thrown in
Spoilers: Simon Said, AHBL pt1& 2, minor ones for TM7
Warnings: Wincest, porn
Notes: Thanks to lapillus for the support. Takes place in the week between All Hell Breaks Loose part 2 and The Magnificent Seven.
Summary: Dean starts having visions of the more erotic nature.
What Dreams May Cum
Dean was watching a cock getting sucked. He knew it wasn’t his cock, thank you very much, because nobody knew his own cock quite like Dean Winchester. This cock was uncut, which gave it the appearance of being longer. It flushed a darker color than Dean’s, with an angry vein running along the length. A long tongue twirled around the tip, gathering a bit of fluid at the end, drawing away just a bit, the droplet of precome following for a moment.
Then plump lips came around the crown, sliding up and down slowly. Yeah, Dean thought, just like that, as the lips slid down all the way, flush with the very base of the cock. The view shifted, like a camera, moving away from the focus on the lips to the side of the cock as the lips lifted up again, continuing to suck on the long dick.
The cock pulsed, shimmering with spit and precome. The lips drew away, just in time as long strips of come shot out, covering the lips, pink tongue stretched out to catch drops. Dean panted, it was so dirty, just like really raunchy porn. Then the view pulled out, revealing the very male face attached to the lips.
He sat straight up in the motel bed, his boxers wet with his release. Dammit, he hadn’t had a wet dream since he was a teenager. “Fuck!” he murmured. He pushed the sheets aside and stalked into the bathroom.
“Dean, you all right?” Sam called from the other bed, and Dean ignored him.
Didn’t exactly want his little brother to know he’d come in his pants over some fucked up pornographic dream about a guy sucking another guy off. He started the shower and shucked off the sticky shorts. Didn’t want to give Sam another reason to worry and hover. They had enough going on already: hundreds of demons escaped from hell, Sam back to life possibly slightly evil and oh right, he had only one year to live before getting a one way ticket straight to hell. Fucked up gay sex dreams didn’t even register on the radar.
The next time it happened they were in a diner. Sam had gone off to the bathroom, leaving Dean twirling his french fries into pools of ketchup. He stared out the window and his mind wandered.
One guy crouched on his hands and knees, his eyes closed and his head thrown back as another thrust into him. Dean didn’t see any of the dirty details, all he could see was the first guy’s face, how much he seemed to be enjoying it, being plowed from behind. He licked his lips, wondering what it would feel like, to be that guy.
“Dean!” Sam’s voice cut into his daydreams and Dean nearly fell out of the booth.
“What the hell, Sam?”
Sam thumped his arm. “I was calling you for like five minutes, dude.”
“I was just...daydreaming,” Dean curved his lips into his signature smirk. Sam rolled his eyes.
“C’mon, we need to follow up on this lead.”
“Uh, sure.” Dean got up to follow him, but he really couldn’t remember what lead they were chasing. His mind was filled with images of men: tall men, short men, hairy men, waxed smooth men, and their dicks: short fat dicks, long slim dicks, cocks cut and uncut.
He was sitting in the Impala, keys in the ignition and he had no idea how they had gotten there. He cleared his throat. “Sam, I think you should drive. I, uh, have a headache.”
“A headache, right,” Sam snorted, but traded places with him.
Dean limped over to the passenger’s side, hoping Sam didn’t notice he was hard inside his jeans.
Later, he tuned out while Sam spoke to the woman who witnessed the attack. Sam thought they were on the lead to one of the loosed demons, but Dean remembered thinking it seemed like classic vengeful spirit to him. However, his mind had been wrapped up in other things since that morning.
Like the slow slick slide of a cock into a well lubed ass. The motion mesmerized him, in and out, hypnotically. And the noises the bottom boy made: groans and moans and sharp gasps of pleasure. Dean bit his lip to keep himself from crying out.
Then Sam jostled him, knocking him off balance.
“Dude, what the hell?”
Sam frowned hard at him. “Dean, you were staring off into space, didn’t answer when I called you.”
“Where’d the chick go?”
“And that’s another thing, I finished the conversation ten minutes ago!”
“Must not have been very interesting.” Dean shook his head and started walking back towards the Impala. He was stopped by Sam jerking his arm, hard.
“Dude, are you okay?” Sam asked softly.
“I’m just dandy,” Dean flashed him a smirk. Yeah, definitely a bad idea to tell Sammy about this right now.
***
After all the sex he witnessed over the past two days, what got him was the simplest of things: kissing. Specifically the image of two men, wrapped around each other, long limbs entwined as if meant to be together. They kissed softly, slowly, lips caressing more than attacking each other. It was nothing like the frenzied sex that occupied his visions before.
This felt less like porn and a lot more like love. Dean expected this kind of scene in some chick flick, where the heroine and her guy go off into the sunset together. Not two men, carding fingers in each other’s hair, pressing close together.
Dean rolled over in bed, curled away from Sam asleep only a few feet away. The image was still strong, superimposed over everything else, brighter than the dark old motel room. He wanted to touch, to kiss, and stroke, fingers along smooth skin, lips over rough stubble. Dean humped against his hand and the bed, not wanting to just whip it out with Sam so close.
The two men continued to kiss, then the blond dipped his head, sucking at his lover’s throat. The other threw his head back, moaning as the blond continued to go lower. Yeah, Dean thought, just like that. He marveled at the man’s face, his cheeks flushed, his pink tongue darting out to lick his swollen lips. As he reached his climax, crying out, Dean stroked himself harder through his boxers.
“Fuck,” he whispered, biting his pillow to keep from crying out as he came. Too good, he thought, this was all too good.
Maybe even then he could have ignored it, pushed it aside as just being tense and not having nearly enough sex since everything went down. His brain was just fucking with him, that’s all.
If so, it really decided to fuck him up the next morning. Dean woke up with morning wood, no big deal, nothing unusual there, despite having come like a train the night before. He had pulled off his messy boxers and tossed them over the side of the bed before falling asleep, so there was nothing between his dick and the sheets.
And his private sex show started up again, this time he was looking down, watching a shaggy head going up and down on his cock. Interesting, it had never been from this view before. Dean could almost feel it, the warm suction of a mouth over his dick. Yeah, he thought, humping against the bed, still curved away from his brother.
Then he reached down and ran his fingers through the hair of his imaginary partner, pulling him away from his hard-on. Dean tilted his head up revealing Sam's smiling face, his lips swollen and wet.
Dean rolled off of the motel room bed and collapsed onto the floor in a ball. "Fuck!" he shouted, trying to get the image out of his brain. He kept seeing it, Sam on his knees, folded in half, looking up with heavy lidded eyes and sex slick lips.
"Dean?" the real Sam murmured sleepily.
Dean scrambled and got himself covered up before Sam could wander over. "Yeah," he answered, his voice cracking. He was still hard, despite the shock of that morning's vision.
Something in his tone must have concerned Sam, who had rolled out of bed and stood over Dean, staring down at him. Dean frowned, he had had enough of Sam looking down on him, this angle was entirely too much. He pushed himself to his feet, careful to keep himself covered with the sheet.
"Dean, what's wrong, man? You've been out of it for days."
Sammy was giving him the sad concerned eyes; the same eyes he'd leveled on dozens of people, getting them to spill their secrets and confidences. Dean sighed, he was no better equipped to resist those eyes either. "Don't laugh," he said, waving a finger at Sam.
"I won't, I promise."
Dean sighed. "I keep having these...dreams, I guess. Even when I'm awake. Dude, it's like a 24/7 porn show in my head, all the time. I just can't...turn it off."
He fully expected Sam to laugh, at the very least mock him. Dean had walked right into mocking material. Sam could level dozens of possible one liners right back at him.
Instead, Sam tilted his head. "This is going to sound weird," he started, ignoring Dean's snort. "But is it gay porn?"
Dean nearly dropped the sheet.
***
"So you're telling me," Dean started as Sam dropped his cell phone onto the bed, "that Andy left a little surprise in my head when he sent that vision?"
"I'm not sure," Sam frowned. "Bobby said he salted and burned all the bodies from Cold Oak."
"So he left something behind," Dean snapped his fingers. "His van."
Sam swore under his breath. Dean blinked, he didn't know his little brother was that creative.
"We detour to Guthrie, it's no biggie Sam. Just gotta salt and burn the van, and uh, not get busted for possession."
"And leave the demon..."
"...vengeful spirit..."
"Here?"
Dean shook his head. "I'm no good like this. One second I'll be fine and then..." he stopped, not because he wanted to, but because the show had begun again.
Ever since that morning, the porno-vision had consisted solely of images of Sam. This time Sam lay stretched out on some bed, nude except for a pair of athletic socks. Sam ran his long fingers along his thick cock, teasing himself with one hand circling the very tip with one finger. He had a smirk on his face, one eyebrow raised in a come hither motion. But Dean's eyes didn't stay on his face for long. Sam had curled his hand around his dick, the other stretched lower to tug on his balls, which for some reason were completely hairless. That couldn't be right...
But Dean didn't have time to wonder about the inaccuracies regarding Sam's dick, dream-Sam thrust against his own hand. His entire body was flushed a perfect pink, nearly matching the color of his puffy lips. He moaned, biting his lips. The long hard erection begged for attention, and his slow strokes sped up, smacking his dick against his flat muscular belly. Sam’s legs bucked as he moved, jerking into his own movements, tugging harder on his nuts.
Sam’s sock-covered ankles twisted, his movements becoming more and more erratic as he got closer and closer to his climax. He worked his dick with both hands now, one circling the base, the other pulling on the head, faster and harder. A long breath escaped his mouth, a sigh that could almost be a name as he comes, long strips of white, painting his hard abs and chest. Dean wondered if Sam could really shoot that high.
“Dean,” Sam said, eyes heavy with lust. Dean got the impression that Sam could be hard again in an instant. He would wait there on the bed, spread out and ready, until Dean crawled up along it, straddled him and sat on his dick.
And Dean wanted to. He wanted to feel that thick cock inside him, wondered if it would look as good as blondie and redhead’s hot little scene from earlier. He’d be filled up with Sam, they’d be connected and no one could separate them.
“Dean!”
A fist connected with his face and Dean dropped. “Goddammit, Sam, what the hell?” he rubbed his jaw, smarting at the bruise.
“You, you wouldn’t come out of it,” Sam whispered. “No matter what I said…”
“Fuck.” Dean drew himself back to his feet. Why the hell was he spending so much time on the floor? “Let’s get on the road,” before I come in my pants, again, he thought.
***
The ride to Guthrie didn’t phase Dean. Sam had pushed him into the passenger side, hopped into the driver’s seat and pealed out. Dean shifted his jacket over his lap, opened his fly and tucked his hand beneath his shorts. Then he let the show begin, all too eager to see what this vision would bring.
He wasn’t disappointed. Dean once again watched a version of Sam, tall and lean and all golden skin without a stitch of clothing on. He sat legs spread and palms flat on a dining room table covered with a white lace tablecloth.
“C’mon and fuck me,” he said, sliding off the table. He turned around, slowly, presenting his ass with a grin and a wiggle. Sam bent over, presenting the firm globes of each cheek, resting his weight on his forearms.
A pair of hands appeared in Dean’s vision, stroking across that firm skin. They opened Sam’s ass, revealing his opening, already glistening and wet. Two fingers slid inside without any resistance. Sam moaned, low in his throat, soft sounds of enjoyment. He whined as the fingers twisted inside him.
Dean expected a hard cock to appear, to penetrate his brother. He hadn’t seen Sam in a scene like that and he looked forward to it, missing the slick penetration from the earlier visions. However, he didn’t expect a long purple dildo to make its appearance, to slide between Sam’s cheeks and inside his entrance.
Sam arched up, as if surprised at the sudden intrusion. The dildo slid out, wet with lube. The hands controlling it circled the ring of Sam’s hole with the tip, until Sam was begging, thrusting his ass out just asking to be reamed. No one could resist such a delectable ass. Obliging him, the dildo slid back in, pistoning in and out with a steady rhythm.
Yeah, Dean thought, unlike a cock that dildo would never get soft, would never lose hardness. He could fuck Sam for hours like that; have him impaled on the warm smooth plastic until he begged for release.
He squeezed himself inside his jeans, only peripherally aware of his own body, too caught up in the video playing in his mind. Dean wanted to be the one inside Sam like that, thrusting hard and deep, forcing Sam into making those breathless little moans, those tiny gasps that went straight to Dean’s cock.
Sam begged now, losing his balance on the table, tossing his head back, gripping onto the tablecloth with rubber fingers. His legs spread even wider and the dildo pressed even deeper. Then, with one last shove, it was pressed deep inside and hands pulled Sam back away from the table, turning him, then shoving him back down on his back, the purple dildo still inside.
Sam reached for his cock, angry red and weeping, precome covering the slit. Hands slapped him away. They took hold of Sam’s dick, leaving him to writhe and moan, helpless at the mercy of the skillful fingers that worked his cock. He clutched the sides of the table, the tablecloth all but ruined, ripping in his grip. Then his entire body stiffened, hips coming up off the table as he came, white fluid flowing everywhere.
And Dean came hard; covering his hand with more jizz that should have been possible with all the action he had been getting these past few days. He bit his lip to keep from shouting, then sank down into the seat, his head hitting the leather with a smack.
“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much,” Sam’s snippy voice broke into Dean’s post-orgasmic haze. Oh, how about that. He could smell the musky sent of sex in the confines of the Impala, even with Sam’s window down.
“Might as well,” he said with a grin. “Free porn.”
***
It stopped being quite so funny once they found Andy’s van. Just like the last time they had rolled through Guthrie, Sam and Dean found the thing parked on Orchard Street. This time, Andy wouldn’t be returning.
Sam picked the lock and they both crawled onto the mattress in the back. It smelled musty and gross, the heavy aroma of smoke still trapped in the air. Andy’s life had been reduced to this, his van parked on the side of the road, filled with his books and bongs and nothing else.
“Someone should tell Tracey,” Dean said. “I think Andy would want her to know.”
“I’ll do it,” Sam said. “Don’t want you spacing out in the middle of the conversation.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, tell her before we torch the van.” He lay back on the mattress, propping his head on his hands. “Shame to do it. This thing is awesome.”
He could hear Sam’s eyes rolling. “Whatever, Dean. I’ll be back, just sit tight.”
“Oh, I will,” Dean shot back. He closed his eyes and smiled, picturing the pissed off look on Sam’s face.
The door opened, then slammed shut. Dean sighed. He hated having to burn the van, but he didn’t want to live out the rest of his life with porno-vision. This wasn’t the first object they had to destroy to vanquish a ghost; Dean just hadn’t figured Andy could have been so attached to his van to stick around.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t the van Andy had been attached to. He frowned. Maybe Andy had had a thing for Sam?
Before he could follow that train of thought any further, his mind fell back into the porn zone. This time he watched as Sam twined around another figure on a large bed, surrounded by fluffy sheets and pillows. Sam drew back and Dean saw himself, spread out on the bed, under Sam, looking up at him with shining eyes.
No, he thought. He did not want to watch his porn double doing his brother.
But it seemed he didn’t have any say in the matter. Fake-Dean was making out with dream-Sam, tongues hanging out of their mouths and clashing in mimicry of battle. They had their hands all over each other, legs entwined to the point where it was impossible to tell which belonged to whom.
Dean wanted more that this vision, he wanted to touch, to kiss Sam. He wanted the reality, not the dream where he could only watch and not take part. Damn it, he thought, watching the two press together, hard cocks rubbing against each other, he was jealous of himself.
With the realization, he felt himself pulling away from the vision. The porn went dark and Dean swore for a moment he saw Andy giving him the “thumbs up” sign.
He opened his eyes. Dean still lay splayed out on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. He had a sinking feeling that burning the van wouldn’t do a damn thing. Andy wanted Dean and Sam to hook up. Whether he’d get some vicarious enjoyment out of it, or Andy just wanted Sam to get laid, Dean wasn’t sure. He had always liked Andy and maybe this was Andy’s way of doing Dean a favor.
The back door to the van creaked open. Dean sat up as Sam climbed inside and shut the door behind him. “How’d it go?”
Sam let out a long breathe. Dean tried not to think how similar it was to the whimpering sounds dream-Sam made during sex. “She was upset.” He shrugged.
Dean wondered how he should bring up his conclusions. Somehow he didn’t think Sam would be too eager if Dean just said: “Sam, I think we need to have sex,” though he never could be too sure. Sam had been awful obliging of late. He wondered if now would be appropriate to bring up the whole only having a year to live thing. Maybe Sam would sleep with him out of guilt.
“I can see those wheels spinning,” Sam accused, “You’re thinking.”
“For once it’s not porn.”
Sam crawled next to him and sprawled on his belly. Dean swallowed. “So what’s it like?”
“What?” Dean choked out.
“Your porno vision.”
Dean shrugged. “It’s like watching it on TV, only in my head.”
“Do you actually feel it like it’s happening or is it just pictures?” Sam’s eyes were doing that frowning thing.
“You’re putting way too much thought into this.”
“I just want to understand, Dean…”
Dean took the opportunity to lean over and shut Sam up by planting one on him. He pulled back immediately after he had done it, but Sam grasped the back of Dean’s head in one of his huge hands and drew Dean back towards him.
Kissing Sam, actually full on kissing, lips, tongues and all that jazz revealed the porno-vision for the pale imitation it was. The vision had lacked this sense of touch and no matter how often Dean imagined himself touching or licking or fucking the objects of desire in his mind, it felt nothing like this.
He threaded his fingers through Sam’s hair, holding them tightly together. Finally, he found a reason for Sam’s stupid haircut. He liked how the soft strands felt against his skin. Dean pressed kisses against Sam’s face, his cheeks, his forehead, nuzzling against hair that smelled like soap and Sam.
“You having one of those porn visions now?” Sam asked, his voice husky with lust.
“I think I like the real thing better,” Dean said.
Sam grasped his wrist; digging his fingers in so hard they hurt. “Wait, your dreams, they’ve been about me?”
Oh yeah, forgot to mention that. Dean raised his eyebrows and gave a half smile. Sam sighed. “Andy, who’s dead and really should shut up, is sending you visions of having sex with me?”
Dean sighed. “I think that’s what he wants. Don’t think it’ll stop until we do.”
Sam’s face crumpled. Dean touched his chin, forcing Sam to look up at him. “It’s not just. I mean, I want to. You know.”
“You’re so eloquent.”
“Hey, who you calling fat?”
Sam snorted, then rolled until he pinned Dean beneath him. Dean really didn’t like this constant looking up at Sam thing. Then Sam twisted his hips against Dean’s and he could feel Sam’s hard dick pushing up against his. Dean bucked his hips up and Sam closed his eyes and shuddered. Dean had been walking around with a constant erection for the past two days, what was Sam’s excuse?
Dean grabbed the hem of Sam’s shirt, sliding his hands up underneath the fabric. He wanted to get his hands on skin. He craved touch, needing to fulfill that one need the porn visions hadn’t managed to assuage. “Get that off, I am not coming in my pants again.”
Sam smirked and drew back, pulling his shirt off. Dean sat up, tugged off his jacket and shirt, then went to work on his jeans. Sam’s hands stopped him. “Let me,” he said, unbuttoning the fly and lowering the zipper. Dean swallowed as Sam pushed the rough fabric down, revealing Dean’s erection outlined in his black boxers.
He let Sam stroke him through the fabric, palming him with one hand. Sam pressed his lips against Dean’s navel, slowly kissing up his chest, latching onto one pink nipple and sucking it until it turned red. Dean choked, grabbing onto the mattress beneath him. Dammit, he was on the bottom again.
Growling, he flipped them over. “My turn,” he said. He still needed to touch, so he ran his fingers down Sam’s flat stomach. Damn his little brother turned out fine. He buried his face in Sam’s neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there. Sam tasted so good, salty and sweet. Dean let his hands wander, stroke down smooth skin, scraping against the occasional scar before tearing open Sam’s jeans.
“Knew you weren’t shaved…” Dean murmured under his breath.
“What?” Sam asked, then moaned as Dean curled his fingers around his cock. Sam wasn’t shaved like his porno-twin, and he was bigger.
“You think a hand job would be enough?” Dean asked, “Or should I fuck you into the mattress?”
“What?” Sam said again.
“Get with the program, Sammy,” Dean chided. Then he slid down and swallowed Sam’s dick.
Sam yelped and thrust up and Dean had to hold onto his hips to keep him down. This, this was what he needed. The taste of Sam exploded against his tongue, sharp and tangy. Dean drew back and circled the slit with his tongue.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, his voice hoarse as if he’d been screaming.
Yeah, Dean thought, he knew his way around the bedroom. Even had his own brother at his mercy. He suckled around the crown, wetting his lips before going down Sam’s length. He learned a thing or two from his porn vision. Dean circled the base with one hand, fingers dancing along the satiny smooth skin as he continued to suck at the tip.
“Dean, gonna…” Sam choked.
Dean pulled off and stroked Sam through his orgasm, firm touches, soothing his cock as it erupted. Sam didn’t shoot like a porn star, but he covered Dean’s hand and wrist with his release. Hmm, sticky, Dean thought, lifting his hand to his lips.
Sam’s eyes rolled back as he watched Dean lick his fingers. Dean made a face at him and wiped his hand on the mattress. It wasn’t quite the same as when it was coming from Sam. Maybe it would taste better on Sam’s skin? Dean leaned forward and nuzzled Sam’s softening cock, licking the remnants of his come off his skin. It did taste better on Sam.
“You’re going to kill me,” Sam murmured.
“Nope, going to fuck you,” Dean said with a smile. He pushed his jeans off, they had caught somewhere around his knees and he had to toe his boots off first.
Sam struggled to sit up. “You have stuff?”
“Stuff? Got a condom in my wallet…”
“Lube, Dean, lube!”
Dean blinked. All the asses in his porn tube had already glistened with lubrication. Clearly he had missed an important step. “This is Andy’s van, he’s got to have some around here.”
After a few minutes of scrambling around, Sam emerged from under some book, a nearly full bottle of KY in his hand. “Sweet.”
“As long as it’s not that heated stuff,” Dean sniffed. “You don’t want your ass burning before we even get started.”
Sam just looked at him. Then he shook his head. “Are you going to, or should I?”
“Uh.” Dean bit his lip at the thought of Sam preparing himself. He reached down and grabbed his dick, squeezing tightly to prevent himself from coming too soon. “You know how?”
Sam’s lips curved in a sly smile. Instead of answering he squeezed some of the clear liquid into his hand. He spread his legs wide, pulled his balls and dick up with one hand and started to finger himself.
Dean never saw anything so hot. He scrambled forward and plunged his own finger inside, along Sam’s. Sam grunted. It was probably too much. But Dean knew he had to get inside there and he couldn’t wait any longer. They moved together, stretching Sam until Sam was hard again and trembling under the three fingers inside him.
Reluctantly, he pulled away and hunted down the condom. He slipped in on while Sam hastily squeezed some more lube inside himself. Dean laughed. “It’ll fit, Sammy.”
Sam made a face at him, then shifted over onto his hands and knees. Dean thought dream-Sam had a fine ass, but really, nothing compared to the real thing. He mimicked the actions from his vision, cupping a buttock in each hand, massaging the smooth skin before pulling them apart, and revealing Sam’s glistening opening.
“Ready?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer before sliding inside. Well, nearly sliding. He pushed his cock up against the opening and pushed. He met resistance and had to pull out and try again. Maybe Sam had the right idea about more lube.
“Relax,” he said, realizing Sam might have tensed up. Maybe he should have prepared Sam more. But that purple dildo had slid in so smoothly in his vision. It shouldn’t be this hard.
And then he was in, all the way, his balls resting against Sam’s ass. “Dean,” Sam’s voice choked out his name. “Move.”
Dean laughed, a breathless chuckle, but he obliged. He dug his fingers into Sam’s hips, holding on as he rolled his hips. He knew how to move, how to stroke his cock deep inside to give his partner the most pleasure. Sam wasn’t a girl, but Dean figured it couldn’t be too different. And after a while, he couldn’t stop, too caught up in Sam’s tight slick heat.
Sam started to match him, back arching as he moved with Dean’s thrusts. Like everything else they did, they moved together in unison, like they’d been doing all their lives. Dean’s fingers gripped harder, leaving bruises as he held Sam still. He groaned as he came, caught between Sam’s buttocks like a vise.
Sam gasped beneath him. He had one hand on his dick and he moaned and whimpered through his own orgasm. Dean rested his head on Sam’s back, panting. He didn’t want to pull out, didn’t want to move. Although that would be suspiciously like cuddling and he didn’t want Sam to think Dean would participate in that.
Carefully, he pulled himself out, tied off the condom and tossed it somewhere near one of the larger bongs. He fell back on the mattress, lying next to Sam. Sam curled away from the wet spot and turned to look at Dean. His face was flushed, locks of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.
“Better than your vision?” he asked.
Dean patted his brother’s cheek. “Oh hell yeah.”
Sam pushed his hand away. “Dean, we should…”
“Yeah, torch the van.” Dean shook his head, trying to shake himself out of the lassitude that usually followed him after sex. He started gathering his clothes, dressing quickly. Sam didn’t move for a long moment, in fact he waited until Dean was almost entirely dressed before tugging on his jeans.
“We can salt it and rig it to explode. Should probably drive it out of town,” Dean said, tugging his jacket back on.
“Dean,” Sam interrupted, grasping onto his arm.
“Don’t think the visions will be coming back. But we should burn it just in case.” Dean shrugged off his hand and opened the van door, slipping out.
***
They torched the van, then got in the Impala and headed out onto the road. Dean sat back in the driver’s seat, his mind clear from his porno-vision. He almost missed it.
“Just to be clear,” Sam said from the passenger seat. “I take it we’re never talking about this?”
“Never,” Dean agreed. He pushed a tape into the player and turned up the stereo. Just because his porn visions were gone didn’t mean he’d have to stop living them. He only had a year left, after all. Time to live it up. His lips curved in a smile. He wondered how Sam felt about twins.
Title: What Dreams May Cum
Author: Epeeblade
Pairing: Sam/Dean, omcs
Rating: NC-17 for smut, smut, smut. Uh, quite possibly an X.
Genre: Smut, with a little bit of plot thrown in
Spoilers: Simon Said, AHBL pt1& 2, minor ones for TM7
Warnings: Wincest, porn
Notes: Thanks to lapillus for the support. Takes place in the week between All Hell Breaks Loose part 2 and The Magnificent Seven.
Summary: Dean starts having visions of the more erotic nature.
What Dreams May Cum
Dean was watching a cock getting sucked. He knew it wasn’t his cock, thank you very much, because nobody knew his own cock quite like Dean Winchester. This cock was uncut, which gave it the appearance of being longer. It flushed a darker color than Dean’s, with an angry vein running along the length. A long tongue twirled around the tip, gathering a bit of fluid at the end, drawing away just a bit, the droplet of precome following for a moment.
Then plump lips came around the crown, sliding up and down slowly. Yeah, Dean thought, just like that, as the lips slid down all the way, flush with the very base of the cock. The view shifted, like a camera, moving away from the focus on the lips to the side of the cock as the lips lifted up again, continuing to suck on the long dick.
The cock pulsed, shimmering with spit and precome. The lips drew away, just in time as long strips of come shot out, covering the lips, pink tongue stretched out to catch drops. Dean panted, it was so dirty, just like really raunchy porn. Then the view pulled out, revealing the very male face attached to the lips.
He sat straight up in the motel bed, his boxers wet with his release. Dammit, he hadn’t had a wet dream since he was a teenager. “Fuck!” he murmured. He pushed the sheets aside and stalked into the bathroom.
“Dean, you all right?” Sam called from the other bed, and Dean ignored him.
Didn’t exactly want his little brother to know he’d come in his pants over some fucked up pornographic dream about a guy sucking another guy off. He started the shower and shucked off the sticky shorts. Didn’t want to give Sam another reason to worry and hover. They had enough going on already: hundreds of demons escaped from hell, Sam back to life possibly slightly evil and oh right, he had only one year to live before getting a one way ticket straight to hell. Fucked up gay sex dreams didn’t even register on the radar.
The next time it happened they were in a diner. Sam had gone off to the bathroom, leaving Dean twirling his french fries into pools of ketchup. He stared out the window and his mind wandered.
One guy crouched on his hands and knees, his eyes closed and his head thrown back as another thrust into him. Dean didn’t see any of the dirty details, all he could see was the first guy’s face, how much he seemed to be enjoying it, being plowed from behind. He licked his lips, wondering what it would feel like, to be that guy.
“Dean!” Sam’s voice cut into his daydreams and Dean nearly fell out of the booth.
“What the hell, Sam?”
Sam thumped his arm. “I was calling you for like five minutes, dude.”
“I was just...daydreaming,” Dean curved his lips into his signature smirk. Sam rolled his eyes.
“C’mon, we need to follow up on this lead.”
“Uh, sure.” Dean got up to follow him, but he really couldn’t remember what lead they were chasing. His mind was filled with images of men: tall men, short men, hairy men, waxed smooth men, and their dicks: short fat dicks, long slim dicks, cocks cut and uncut.
He was sitting in the Impala, keys in the ignition and he had no idea how they had gotten there. He cleared his throat. “Sam, I think you should drive. I, uh, have a headache.”
“A headache, right,” Sam snorted, but traded places with him.
Dean limped over to the passenger’s side, hoping Sam didn’t notice he was hard inside his jeans.
Later, he tuned out while Sam spoke to the woman who witnessed the attack. Sam thought they were on the lead to one of the loosed demons, but Dean remembered thinking it seemed like classic vengeful spirit to him. However, his mind had been wrapped up in other things since that morning.
Like the slow slick slide of a cock into a well lubed ass. The motion mesmerized him, in and out, hypnotically. And the noises the bottom boy made: groans and moans and sharp gasps of pleasure. Dean bit his lip to keep himself from crying out.
Then Sam jostled him, knocking him off balance.
“Dude, what the hell?”
Sam frowned hard at him. “Dean, you were staring off into space, didn’t answer when I called you.”
“Where’d the chick go?”
“And that’s another thing, I finished the conversation ten minutes ago!”
“Must not have been very interesting.” Dean shook his head and started walking back towards the Impala. He was stopped by Sam jerking his arm, hard.
“Dude, are you okay?” Sam asked softly.
“I’m just dandy,” Dean flashed him a smirk. Yeah, definitely a bad idea to tell Sammy about this right now.
***
After all the sex he witnessed over the past two days, what got him was the simplest of things: kissing. Specifically the image of two men, wrapped around each other, long limbs entwined as if meant to be together. They kissed softly, slowly, lips caressing more than attacking each other. It was nothing like the frenzied sex that occupied his visions before.
This felt less like porn and a lot more like love. Dean expected this kind of scene in some chick flick, where the heroine and her guy go off into the sunset together. Not two men, carding fingers in each other’s hair, pressing close together.
Dean rolled over in bed, curled away from Sam asleep only a few feet away. The image was still strong, superimposed over everything else, brighter than the dark old motel room. He wanted to touch, to kiss, and stroke, fingers along smooth skin, lips over rough stubble. Dean humped against his hand and the bed, not wanting to just whip it out with Sam so close.
The two men continued to kiss, then the blond dipped his head, sucking at his lover’s throat. The other threw his head back, moaning as the blond continued to go lower. Yeah, Dean thought, just like that. He marveled at the man’s face, his cheeks flushed, his pink tongue darting out to lick his swollen lips. As he reached his climax, crying out, Dean stroked himself harder through his boxers.
“Fuck,” he whispered, biting his pillow to keep from crying out as he came. Too good, he thought, this was all too good.
Maybe even then he could have ignored it, pushed it aside as just being tense and not having nearly enough sex since everything went down. His brain was just fucking with him, that’s all.
If so, it really decided to fuck him up the next morning. Dean woke up with morning wood, no big deal, nothing unusual there, despite having come like a train the night before. He had pulled off his messy boxers and tossed them over the side of the bed before falling asleep, so there was nothing between his dick and the sheets.
And his private sex show started up again, this time he was looking down, watching a shaggy head going up and down on his cock. Interesting, it had never been from this view before. Dean could almost feel it, the warm suction of a mouth over his dick. Yeah, he thought, humping against the bed, still curved away from his brother.
Then he reached down and ran his fingers through the hair of his imaginary partner, pulling him away from his hard-on. Dean tilted his head up revealing Sam's smiling face, his lips swollen and wet.
Dean rolled off of the motel room bed and collapsed onto the floor in a ball. "Fuck!" he shouted, trying to get the image out of his brain. He kept seeing it, Sam on his knees, folded in half, looking up with heavy lidded eyes and sex slick lips.
"Dean?" the real Sam murmured sleepily.
Dean scrambled and got himself covered up before Sam could wander over. "Yeah," he answered, his voice cracking. He was still hard, despite the shock of that morning's vision.
Something in his tone must have concerned Sam, who had rolled out of bed and stood over Dean, staring down at him. Dean frowned, he had had enough of Sam looking down on him, this angle was entirely too much. He pushed himself to his feet, careful to keep himself covered with the sheet.
"Dean, what's wrong, man? You've been out of it for days."
Sammy was giving him the sad concerned eyes; the same eyes he'd leveled on dozens of people, getting them to spill their secrets and confidences. Dean sighed, he was no better equipped to resist those eyes either. "Don't laugh," he said, waving a finger at Sam.
"I won't, I promise."
Dean sighed. "I keep having these...dreams, I guess. Even when I'm awake. Dude, it's like a 24/7 porn show in my head, all the time. I just can't...turn it off."
He fully expected Sam to laugh, at the very least mock him. Dean had walked right into mocking material. Sam could level dozens of possible one liners right back at him.
Instead, Sam tilted his head. "This is going to sound weird," he started, ignoring Dean's snort. "But is it gay porn?"
Dean nearly dropped the sheet.
***
"So you're telling me," Dean started as Sam dropped his cell phone onto the bed, "that Andy left a little surprise in my head when he sent that vision?"
"I'm not sure," Sam frowned. "Bobby said he salted and burned all the bodies from Cold Oak."
"So he left something behind," Dean snapped his fingers. "His van."
Sam swore under his breath. Dean blinked, he didn't know his little brother was that creative.
"We detour to Guthrie, it's no biggie Sam. Just gotta salt and burn the van, and uh, not get busted for possession."
"And leave the demon..."
"...vengeful spirit..."
"Here?"
Dean shook his head. "I'm no good like this. One second I'll be fine and then..." he stopped, not because he wanted to, but because the show had begun again.
Ever since that morning, the porno-vision had consisted solely of images of Sam. This time Sam lay stretched out on some bed, nude except for a pair of athletic socks. Sam ran his long fingers along his thick cock, teasing himself with one hand circling the very tip with one finger. He had a smirk on his face, one eyebrow raised in a come hither motion. But Dean's eyes didn't stay on his face for long. Sam had curled his hand around his dick, the other stretched lower to tug on his balls, which for some reason were completely hairless. That couldn't be right...
But Dean didn't have time to wonder about the inaccuracies regarding Sam's dick, dream-Sam thrust against his own hand. His entire body was flushed a perfect pink, nearly matching the color of his puffy lips. He moaned, biting his lips. The long hard erection begged for attention, and his slow strokes sped up, smacking his dick against his flat muscular belly. Sam’s legs bucked as he moved, jerking into his own movements, tugging harder on his nuts.
Sam’s sock-covered ankles twisted, his movements becoming more and more erratic as he got closer and closer to his climax. He worked his dick with both hands now, one circling the base, the other pulling on the head, faster and harder. A long breath escaped his mouth, a sigh that could almost be a name as he comes, long strips of white, painting his hard abs and chest. Dean wondered if Sam could really shoot that high.
“Dean,” Sam said, eyes heavy with lust. Dean got the impression that Sam could be hard again in an instant. He would wait there on the bed, spread out and ready, until Dean crawled up along it, straddled him and sat on his dick.
And Dean wanted to. He wanted to feel that thick cock inside him, wondered if it would look as good as blondie and redhead’s hot little scene from earlier. He’d be filled up with Sam, they’d be connected and no one could separate them.
“Dean!”
A fist connected with his face and Dean dropped. “Goddammit, Sam, what the hell?” he rubbed his jaw, smarting at the bruise.
“You, you wouldn’t come out of it,” Sam whispered. “No matter what I said…”
“Fuck.” Dean drew himself back to his feet. Why the hell was he spending so much time on the floor? “Let’s get on the road,” before I come in my pants, again, he thought.
***
The ride to Guthrie didn’t phase Dean. Sam had pushed him into the passenger side, hopped into the driver’s seat and pealed out. Dean shifted his jacket over his lap, opened his fly and tucked his hand beneath his shorts. Then he let the show begin, all too eager to see what this vision would bring.
He wasn’t disappointed. Dean once again watched a version of Sam, tall and lean and all golden skin without a stitch of clothing on. He sat legs spread and palms flat on a dining room table covered with a white lace tablecloth.
“C’mon and fuck me,” he said, sliding off the table. He turned around, slowly, presenting his ass with a grin and a wiggle. Sam bent over, presenting the firm globes of each cheek, resting his weight on his forearms.
A pair of hands appeared in Dean’s vision, stroking across that firm skin. They opened Sam’s ass, revealing his opening, already glistening and wet. Two fingers slid inside without any resistance. Sam moaned, low in his throat, soft sounds of enjoyment. He whined as the fingers twisted inside him.
Dean expected a hard cock to appear, to penetrate his brother. He hadn’t seen Sam in a scene like that and he looked forward to it, missing the slick penetration from the earlier visions. However, he didn’t expect a long purple dildo to make its appearance, to slide between Sam’s cheeks and inside his entrance.
Sam arched up, as if surprised at the sudden intrusion. The dildo slid out, wet with lube. The hands controlling it circled the ring of Sam’s hole with the tip, until Sam was begging, thrusting his ass out just asking to be reamed. No one could resist such a delectable ass. Obliging him, the dildo slid back in, pistoning in and out with a steady rhythm.
Yeah, Dean thought, unlike a cock that dildo would never get soft, would never lose hardness. He could fuck Sam for hours like that; have him impaled on the warm smooth plastic until he begged for release.
He squeezed himself inside his jeans, only peripherally aware of his own body, too caught up in the video playing in his mind. Dean wanted to be the one inside Sam like that, thrusting hard and deep, forcing Sam into making those breathless little moans, those tiny gasps that went straight to Dean’s cock.
Sam begged now, losing his balance on the table, tossing his head back, gripping onto the tablecloth with rubber fingers. His legs spread even wider and the dildo pressed even deeper. Then, with one last shove, it was pressed deep inside and hands pulled Sam back away from the table, turning him, then shoving him back down on his back, the purple dildo still inside.
Sam reached for his cock, angry red and weeping, precome covering the slit. Hands slapped him away. They took hold of Sam’s dick, leaving him to writhe and moan, helpless at the mercy of the skillful fingers that worked his cock. He clutched the sides of the table, the tablecloth all but ruined, ripping in his grip. Then his entire body stiffened, hips coming up off the table as he came, white fluid flowing everywhere.
And Dean came hard; covering his hand with more jizz that should have been possible with all the action he had been getting these past few days. He bit his lip to keep from shouting, then sank down into the seat, his head hitting the leather with a smack.
“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much,” Sam’s snippy voice broke into Dean’s post-orgasmic haze. Oh, how about that. He could smell the musky sent of sex in the confines of the Impala, even with Sam’s window down.
“Might as well,” he said with a grin. “Free porn.”
***
It stopped being quite so funny once they found Andy’s van. Just like the last time they had rolled through Guthrie, Sam and Dean found the thing parked on Orchard Street. This time, Andy wouldn’t be returning.
Sam picked the lock and they both crawled onto the mattress in the back. It smelled musty and gross, the heavy aroma of smoke still trapped in the air. Andy’s life had been reduced to this, his van parked on the side of the road, filled with his books and bongs and nothing else.
“Someone should tell Tracey,” Dean said. “I think Andy would want her to know.”
“I’ll do it,” Sam said. “Don’t want you spacing out in the middle of the conversation.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, tell her before we torch the van.” He lay back on the mattress, propping his head on his hands. “Shame to do it. This thing is awesome.”
He could hear Sam’s eyes rolling. “Whatever, Dean. I’ll be back, just sit tight.”
“Oh, I will,” Dean shot back. He closed his eyes and smiled, picturing the pissed off look on Sam’s face.
The door opened, then slammed shut. Dean sighed. He hated having to burn the van, but he didn’t want to live out the rest of his life with porno-vision. This wasn’t the first object they had to destroy to vanquish a ghost; Dean just hadn’t figured Andy could have been so attached to his van to stick around.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t the van Andy had been attached to. He frowned. Maybe Andy had had a thing for Sam?
Before he could follow that train of thought any further, his mind fell back into the porn zone. This time he watched as Sam twined around another figure on a large bed, surrounded by fluffy sheets and pillows. Sam drew back and Dean saw himself, spread out on the bed, under Sam, looking up at him with shining eyes.
No, he thought. He did not want to watch his porn double doing his brother.
But it seemed he didn’t have any say in the matter. Fake-Dean was making out with dream-Sam, tongues hanging out of their mouths and clashing in mimicry of battle. They had their hands all over each other, legs entwined to the point where it was impossible to tell which belonged to whom.
Dean wanted more that this vision, he wanted to touch, to kiss Sam. He wanted the reality, not the dream where he could only watch and not take part. Damn it, he thought, watching the two press together, hard cocks rubbing against each other, he was jealous of himself.
With the realization, he felt himself pulling away from the vision. The porn went dark and Dean swore for a moment he saw Andy giving him the “thumbs up” sign.
He opened his eyes. Dean still lay splayed out on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. He had a sinking feeling that burning the van wouldn’t do a damn thing. Andy wanted Dean and Sam to hook up. Whether he’d get some vicarious enjoyment out of it, or Andy just wanted Sam to get laid, Dean wasn’t sure. He had always liked Andy and maybe this was Andy’s way of doing Dean a favor.
The back door to the van creaked open. Dean sat up as Sam climbed inside and shut the door behind him. “How’d it go?”
Sam let out a long breathe. Dean tried not to think how similar it was to the whimpering sounds dream-Sam made during sex. “She was upset.” He shrugged.
Dean wondered how he should bring up his conclusions. Somehow he didn’t think Sam would be too eager if Dean just said: “Sam, I think we need to have sex,” though he never could be too sure. Sam had been awful obliging of late. He wondered if now would be appropriate to bring up the whole only having a year to live thing. Maybe Sam would sleep with him out of guilt.
“I can see those wheels spinning,” Sam accused, “You’re thinking.”
“For once it’s not porn.”
Sam crawled next to him and sprawled on his belly. Dean swallowed. “So what’s it like?”
“What?” Dean choked out.
“Your porno vision.”
Dean shrugged. “It’s like watching it on TV, only in my head.”
“Do you actually feel it like it’s happening or is it just pictures?” Sam’s eyes were doing that frowning thing.
“You’re putting way too much thought into this.”
“I just want to understand, Dean…”
Dean took the opportunity to lean over and shut Sam up by planting one on him. He pulled back immediately after he had done it, but Sam grasped the back of Dean’s head in one of his huge hands and drew Dean back towards him.
Kissing Sam, actually full on kissing, lips, tongues and all that jazz revealed the porno-vision for the pale imitation it was. The vision had lacked this sense of touch and no matter how often Dean imagined himself touching or licking or fucking the objects of desire in his mind, it felt nothing like this.
He threaded his fingers through Sam’s hair, holding them tightly together. Finally, he found a reason for Sam’s stupid haircut. He liked how the soft strands felt against his skin. Dean pressed kisses against Sam’s face, his cheeks, his forehead, nuzzling against hair that smelled like soap and Sam.
“You having one of those porn visions now?” Sam asked, his voice husky with lust.
“I think I like the real thing better,” Dean said.
Sam grasped his wrist; digging his fingers in so hard they hurt. “Wait, your dreams, they’ve been about me?”
Oh yeah, forgot to mention that. Dean raised his eyebrows and gave a half smile. Sam sighed. “Andy, who’s dead and really should shut up, is sending you visions of having sex with me?”
Dean sighed. “I think that’s what he wants. Don’t think it’ll stop until we do.”
Sam’s face crumpled. Dean touched his chin, forcing Sam to look up at him. “It’s not just. I mean, I want to. You know.”
“You’re so eloquent.”
“Hey, who you calling fat?”
Sam snorted, then rolled until he pinned Dean beneath him. Dean really didn’t like this constant looking up at Sam thing. Then Sam twisted his hips against Dean’s and he could feel Sam’s hard dick pushing up against his. Dean bucked his hips up and Sam closed his eyes and shuddered. Dean had been walking around with a constant erection for the past two days, what was Sam’s excuse?
Dean grabbed the hem of Sam’s shirt, sliding his hands up underneath the fabric. He wanted to get his hands on skin. He craved touch, needing to fulfill that one need the porn visions hadn’t managed to assuage. “Get that off, I am not coming in my pants again.”
Sam smirked and drew back, pulling his shirt off. Dean sat up, tugged off his jacket and shirt, then went to work on his jeans. Sam’s hands stopped him. “Let me,” he said, unbuttoning the fly and lowering the zipper. Dean swallowed as Sam pushed the rough fabric down, revealing Dean’s erection outlined in his black boxers.
He let Sam stroke him through the fabric, palming him with one hand. Sam pressed his lips against Dean’s navel, slowly kissing up his chest, latching onto one pink nipple and sucking it until it turned red. Dean choked, grabbing onto the mattress beneath him. Dammit, he was on the bottom again.
Growling, he flipped them over. “My turn,” he said. He still needed to touch, so he ran his fingers down Sam’s flat stomach. Damn his little brother turned out fine. He buried his face in Sam’s neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there. Sam tasted so good, salty and sweet. Dean let his hands wander, stroke down smooth skin, scraping against the occasional scar before tearing open Sam’s jeans.
“Knew you weren’t shaved…” Dean murmured under his breath.
“What?” Sam asked, then moaned as Dean curled his fingers around his cock. Sam wasn’t shaved like his porno-twin, and he was bigger.
“You think a hand job would be enough?” Dean asked, “Or should I fuck you into the mattress?”
“What?” Sam said again.
“Get with the program, Sammy,” Dean chided. Then he slid down and swallowed Sam’s dick.
Sam yelped and thrust up and Dean had to hold onto his hips to keep him down. This, this was what he needed. The taste of Sam exploded against his tongue, sharp and tangy. Dean drew back and circled the slit with his tongue.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, his voice hoarse as if he’d been screaming.
Yeah, Dean thought, he knew his way around the bedroom. Even had his own brother at his mercy. He suckled around the crown, wetting his lips before going down Sam’s length. He learned a thing or two from his porn vision. Dean circled the base with one hand, fingers dancing along the satiny smooth skin as he continued to suck at the tip.
“Dean, gonna…” Sam choked.
Dean pulled off and stroked Sam through his orgasm, firm touches, soothing his cock as it erupted. Sam didn’t shoot like a porn star, but he covered Dean’s hand and wrist with his release. Hmm, sticky, Dean thought, lifting his hand to his lips.
Sam’s eyes rolled back as he watched Dean lick his fingers. Dean made a face at him and wiped his hand on the mattress. It wasn’t quite the same as when it was coming from Sam. Maybe it would taste better on Sam’s skin? Dean leaned forward and nuzzled Sam’s softening cock, licking the remnants of his come off his skin. It did taste better on Sam.
“You’re going to kill me,” Sam murmured.
“Nope, going to fuck you,” Dean said with a smile. He pushed his jeans off, they had caught somewhere around his knees and he had to toe his boots off first.
Sam struggled to sit up. “You have stuff?”
“Stuff? Got a condom in my wallet…”
“Lube, Dean, lube!”
Dean blinked. All the asses in his porn tube had already glistened with lubrication. Clearly he had missed an important step. “This is Andy’s van, he’s got to have some around here.”
After a few minutes of scrambling around, Sam emerged from under some book, a nearly full bottle of KY in his hand. “Sweet.”
“As long as it’s not that heated stuff,” Dean sniffed. “You don’t want your ass burning before we even get started.”
Sam just looked at him. Then he shook his head. “Are you going to, or should I?”
“Uh.” Dean bit his lip at the thought of Sam preparing himself. He reached down and grabbed his dick, squeezing tightly to prevent himself from coming too soon. “You know how?”
Sam’s lips curved in a sly smile. Instead of answering he squeezed some of the clear liquid into his hand. He spread his legs wide, pulled his balls and dick up with one hand and started to finger himself.
Dean never saw anything so hot. He scrambled forward and plunged his own finger inside, along Sam’s. Sam grunted. It was probably too much. But Dean knew he had to get inside there and he couldn’t wait any longer. They moved together, stretching Sam until Sam was hard again and trembling under the three fingers inside him.
Reluctantly, he pulled away and hunted down the condom. He slipped in on while Sam hastily squeezed some more lube inside himself. Dean laughed. “It’ll fit, Sammy.”
Sam made a face at him, then shifted over onto his hands and knees. Dean thought dream-Sam had a fine ass, but really, nothing compared to the real thing. He mimicked the actions from his vision, cupping a buttock in each hand, massaging the smooth skin before pulling them apart, and revealing Sam’s glistening opening.
“Ready?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer before sliding inside. Well, nearly sliding. He pushed his cock up against the opening and pushed. He met resistance and had to pull out and try again. Maybe Sam had the right idea about more lube.
“Relax,” he said, realizing Sam might have tensed up. Maybe he should have prepared Sam more. But that purple dildo had slid in so smoothly in his vision. It shouldn’t be this hard.
And then he was in, all the way, his balls resting against Sam’s ass. “Dean,” Sam’s voice choked out his name. “Move.”
Dean laughed, a breathless chuckle, but he obliged. He dug his fingers into Sam’s hips, holding on as he rolled his hips. He knew how to move, how to stroke his cock deep inside to give his partner the most pleasure. Sam wasn’t a girl, but Dean figured it couldn’t be too different. And after a while, he couldn’t stop, too caught up in Sam’s tight slick heat.
Sam started to match him, back arching as he moved with Dean’s thrusts. Like everything else they did, they moved together in unison, like they’d been doing all their lives. Dean’s fingers gripped harder, leaving bruises as he held Sam still. He groaned as he came, caught between Sam’s buttocks like a vise.
Sam gasped beneath him. He had one hand on his dick and he moaned and whimpered through his own orgasm. Dean rested his head on Sam’s back, panting. He didn’t want to pull out, didn’t want to move. Although that would be suspiciously like cuddling and he didn’t want Sam to think Dean would participate in that.
Carefully, he pulled himself out, tied off the condom and tossed it somewhere near one of the larger bongs. He fell back on the mattress, lying next to Sam. Sam curled away from the wet spot and turned to look at Dean. His face was flushed, locks of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.
“Better than your vision?” he asked.
Dean patted his brother’s cheek. “Oh hell yeah.”
Sam pushed his hand away. “Dean, we should…”
“Yeah, torch the van.” Dean shook his head, trying to shake himself out of the lassitude that usually followed him after sex. He started gathering his clothes, dressing quickly. Sam didn’t move for a long moment, in fact he waited until Dean was almost entirely dressed before tugging on his jeans.
“We can salt it and rig it to explode. Should probably drive it out of town,” Dean said, tugging his jacket back on.
“Dean,” Sam interrupted, grasping onto his arm.
“Don’t think the visions will be coming back. But we should burn it just in case.” Dean shrugged off his hand and opened the van door, slipping out.
***
They torched the van, then got in the Impala and headed out onto the road. Dean sat back in the driver’s seat, his mind clear from his porno-vision. He almost missed it.
“Just to be clear,” Sam said from the passenger seat. “I take it we’re never talking about this?”
“Never,” Dean agreed. He pushed a tape into the player and turned up the stereo. Just because his porn visions were gone didn’t mean he’d have to stop living them. He only had a year left, after all. Time to live it up. His lips curved in a smile. He wondered how Sam felt about twins.