Supernatural Fanfic: Reassurance NC-17 Sam/Dean, Dean/OFC
Title: Reassurance
Author: fpvs
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Dean/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, underage sex, rimming (*pouts* no-one lists rimming anymore!)
Word Count: 7,758
Summary: Set directly after Crossroad Blues. Sam sees Dean angsting and takes it upon himself to make him better.
Disclaimer: The boys aren’t mine. They’re Kripke’s, the CW’s, sorta Jensen and Jared’s…. Not mine, anyways. I just borrow them. Play with them a little. And put them back into their individual boxes until next time :) Please don’t sue! I just wanna make people happy.
A/N: My first full-length fic. My first explicit fic. My first to be cross-posted. Please be kind, but all constructive criticism and praise greatly appreciated. If people like my writing, I have, like, 8 Plot!Bunnies rearing to go! Lol (And yes… I know the ending is a little dodgy… But let me have it?? First fic and all! *nods*). MASSIVE thankyou to arsilver_angel for Beta'ing and helping kick me in the right direction with some serious re-writes at the start of this fic. And to terriblesix... Without whome I wouldn't have been writing this fic on the bathroom of a hotel room in NYC in the wee hours of the morning.
"When you were trapping that demon, you weren’t... I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never considered actually making that... deal. Right?" Dean looked ahead at the road, eyes shifting away from anywhere resembling Sam’s direction, tears appearing in his eyes. And the music is turned from Blues to Rock, extinguishing any possibility of continuing the conversation.
He looked over at his broken brother knowing that once again, Dean had raised a giant barrier to keep him at a distance. Everything had gone so horribly wrong. Before the crossroad, they had finally been talking again… Finally been able to start healing from the loss of their father. And now they were back at square one.
Sam could never tell Dean how much he needed him… It was simply an unspoken bond that had finally re-blossomed since he’d left Palo Alto. He needed Dean to keep him in line. To stop his own brooding relapses. To brag about girls and music and anything that would pop-up in that faux carefree head of his. But now Dean was sitting there, a half-broken man, lost in a sea of depression.
He watched as Dean purposely avoided looking in his direction knowing that if he did, Sam would force him to talk. But if this kept up, Sam knew it would kill him… Eat him up inside till there was no spark of him left. It was now up to Sam to drag him (kicking and screaming if need be) out of yet another rut. He didn’t need to be Psychic Boy-Wonder to feel the waves of pain flowing from Dean, just an inch below the surface. It was his turn to fix his brother. At least enough to survive one more day.
* * * * *
Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. Oprah. They were watching Oprah! On any other day, Sam would be all over his brother for such a girly lapse in judgment. Today however, he was too consumed with the haunted look in the older brother’s eyes. It filled his heart with not only pain and worry, but dread. Only after their father passed away had Dean become so closed off, clashing with Sam’s mental image of his usual, smart alec, abrasive self.
They both sat unmoving, watching Oprah have yet another heart-to-heart with the latest Hollywood divorcé. Enough was enough! Sam stood up forcefully from his cheap hotel bed and grabbed the TV remote off the adjoining nightstand and with a slightly audible hum the screen went blank.
After a few moments, Dean finally turned his gaze from the dead TV to focus on Sam with barely a hint of annoyance in his eyes.
"Dean, you can’t go on like this!"
Another slight pause and Dean averted his eyes from Sam’s face to stare at the wall running along the side of his equally time-wearied bed. His gaze traveled along the wall to the open bathroom door, trying to feign distraction to Sam’s intrusion.
"Dean, would you look at me?" Sam sat down, next to Dean’s legs. "Look at me, dammit! Don’t you know how much this is killing me to watch you like this? You were watching friggin’ Oprah! And you don’t seem to mind the fact I’m here and will mock you later."
Sam was hoping for something - anything - to let him know that some part of what made Dean, Dean was still there. But all he got were green listless eyes turned back on him reflecting nothing but indifference.
Sam leaned forward looking deeply into his brother’s eyes. With nowhere else to turn, Dean locked gazes with the relentless young hunter. They were so close to each other and Dean’s eyes flicked down to Sam’s lips as he unconsciously licked his own.
Tilting his head slightly, Sam parted his mouth and Dean could feel his brother’s warm breath on his skin. "I need to know you’re feeling something separate from the pain."
Sam closed his eyes and leaned in, closing the unbearable gap between the two as their lips touched. This, their first kiss since the events that lead up to the death of their father, a death by the hands of a yellow-eyed Demon that had plagued their lives for so long.
Reaching up to cup Dean’s chin he felt a wetness on the elder’s cheeks. Opening his eyes he saw a trail of tears that made their way down to the sheets in the space left between them.
"God, Dean. What happened in that head of yours?"
With a vacant look in his eyes, as if he had nothing left to give, he softly spoke, "Why’d he have to do it, Sam? How could he do that to me? How could he leave me? How could he say those things to me and not even tell me? He didn’t even say Goodbye…"
Upon hearing the broken confession, he once more kissed Dean. Softly at first, then slowly deepening the kiss by devouring his pouting lips and deeper still to caresses Dean’s tongue with his own. Salty tears made their way into the emotional chaos that lined each boy’s faces and Sam felt the instinctual urge to kiss them all away.
He sidled across the bed, moving up Dean’s body, not letting their lips part for even a second. Finally reaching the elder’s lap he straddled Dean’s thighs to prevent any possible attempt at escape. Through a fierce battle of wills Sam was proving victor, having strategically maneuvered his brother with his back pressed hard against the bed’s headboard. A shiver ran up and down his spine, allowing himself an instant to realise that he was in command, and in control.
Sam felt the tenseness in Dean’s body finally give way. He let his hand find it’s way from the back of Dean’s neck to his shoulder, massaging any tense muscles he encountered before he took hold of strong arms. His fingers lightly traced the outlines of bulges through half rolled-up shirt arms. Sam then moved both hands to the front of his brother’s chest pawing at the material that was cruelly preventing him from being able to caress Dean’s soft bronze skin. With a swift tug and pull he had the offending material pushed down behind him, trapping Dean’s arms to his sides. He then shifted his body weight, pushing his crotch forward and causing a shattered moan to escape Dean’s throat.
He pulled his mouth back causing Dean to emit a small whimper that escaped his lips and unwittingly force him to tilt his face upwards, trying to close the gap between the two. With that small action Sam knew he was definitely in command.
"No," he challenged. "Tell me what you want, Dean. Tell me what you need."
"I need to feel you." It was almost a whisper and if Sam had been any further than those few inches, he might have missed it.
Looking deep into his brother’s elusive darkened green eyes he saw the raw need, mixed with desire, coated with that heart-shattering underlaying haunted pain. "Ok."
He pulled Dean’s buttoned shirt the rest of the way off his arms and tossed it carelessly off the side of the bed. Long fingers crept up under Dean’s dark cotton undershirt only to encounter hardening nipples. Slowly, agonizingly, Sam rolled them under his fingertips to be rewarded by a shiver and tender moan coming from Dean’s parted lips. Forcing his brother’s arms up, Sam pulled off the last intrusive article of clothing from the elder’s torso. Doing so, he couldn’t help letting eyes linger on the hair beneath Dean’s armpits.
Noticing his brother’s paused gaze, a slight smirk formed on Dean’s face, lighting eyes and stretching red lips over a flash of white teeth. That crack in Dean’s brooding cheered Sam up with the hope of having his old brother back. As in challenge to Sam’s previous disrobing actions Dean teasingly questioned, "Why’re you still hiding your stick body, hmm? Thought you were trying to make me feel better."
He playfully rolled his eyes before letting Dean briefly take control, shedding useless excess layers of clothing. He felt relief in his chest to see more of the hurt in Dean’s eyes turning to lust. "Jesus, Sam. You’re so beautiful."
"Dude, d’you just say I’m beautiful?" Sam tilted his head and laughed. "Sissy!"
"Bitch."
"Whore."
"I’m not the one about to find himself with a cock up his ass." Sam looked straight back at Dean.
"That’s way it’s gonna be tonight?" Sam’s voice took on a husky, breathless edge. No matter what his brother’s mind-set, it was always Dean’s choice. Unspoken older brother’s prerogative. What his mood was. Where his head was. Did he want the power, or did he want Sam doing the work?
The times Dean chose to be submissive to Sam weren’t talked about. They happened rarely enough that they both ignored them. Especially as they always were out of fear on Dean’s behalf. His fear that Sam was slipping away. That he was turning away from Dean, to find life or love elsewhere. Fear he wouldn’t return to Dean in the end. Alone, this was reason enough for Sam to pretend those nights never happened. But there were times - when Dean was feeling Sam slipping away - that he gave Sam that indulgence.
> > > > > >
The first time was the night before Sam left for college. Dean had begged Sam to stay. Not with his words - Sam knew he was incapable of that - but with those eyes. And those eyes had almost broken him and his resolve to leave.
When Sam had thrust deep inside him, hitting Dean’s prostate unrelenting -with an unnatural sense of direction within his body - he’d watched a tear fall down his face. A single salty tear that Sam told himself was from the pain of the sex. But deep down he knew Dean would never let physical pain escape like that - their father had taught Dean better than that.
< < < < < <
Their father. God, Dad! He hadn’t seen such a haunted look in Dean’s eyes, like was there right now, since that summer night all those years ago. He’d do everything he could to keep that look out of those yellow-flecked dark green eyes. Anything and everything.
Dean was watching him. Christ, he was waiting for him to make a move. Another first in this relationship of theirs - Dean was relinquishing power, if only for tonight.
Sam leaned in for another kiss. First allowing lips to brush teasingly over Dean’s, emitting an aching whimper from his suffering brother’s throat. Then light kisses. Tilting heads to make sure Sam’s nose didn’t get squashed - that always resulted in Dean bursting into laughter.
> > > > > >
That first, almost innocent, kiss Sam had given Dean - Sam 12, Dean beginning to fill out at 16 - had almost crushed Sam. Dean had erupted into giggles and Sam had thought it was due to embarrassment. He’d thought his brother was disgusted and shocked at his advances. He’d sweated over it - and worried and brooded - for the first time of his adolescence, until two nights later, when Dean had crept from his bed to perch on Sam’s. Sam was pretending to sleep, but Dean, as the all-knowing big brother, knew better.
"Sam, I’ve gotta tell you something." Sam had opened his eyes and Dean had leant down and kissed him, nose angled to the right side of Sam’s squishable nose. When Sam had parted his mouth in shock, Dean had slipped his tongue inside and had given him a kiss he’d never forget. It had also left him more than half hard. "You gotta tilt your head when you kiss. So you don’t crush that soft nose of yours."
Dean was the only one who ever commented on Sam’s habit of kissing straight-faced. And hence he was the only one Sam ever kissed the other way. Just another thing that kept their relationship special and separate from the others that came and passed in their separate lives. Sam knew Dean knew this and he suspected it was the one thing that kept Dean from being jealous of those few females who’d entered Sam’s life. So very ironic, that Dean could feel jealous of the girls he had slept with - so absurd in Sam’s mind. Dean would be the first and would be the last love of Sam’s life.
< < < < < <
So Sam kissed Dean. His head always finding it’s way upright, while Dean’s tilted to the side. Their chests pressed close, sharing rising temperatures as arousal burnt both their skins. Sam ground down on Dean’s groin, causing a hitch in both chests. He knew Dean was as uncomfortable as he was, with erections pressed against the inside threads of jean zippers.
His hand found its way down Dean’s chest, tracing those perfectly defined muscles and arrived at the top of the denim. Sam pulled his mouth away, hearing Dean’s silent moan of disappointment. He looked deep into his eyes as he popped the button. Dean’s eyes widened and pupils dilated as they exchanged looks of desperate lust.
Sam dragged down the zipper, slow enough to feel each of the teeth vibrating through metal and his fingers. Dean drooped his eyelids and let out a long sigh. Finally, Dean, jnr had room to breath. Sam moved to pull the jeans off Dean, hands at either side of his hips when Dean’s eyes flew open.
"No!" There was a command in that voice and Sam knew he never disobeyed his brother in the bedroom. Well, almost never. "Yours come off first."
Dean pulled Sam’s hands away from loose denim, then dropped them to move onto Sam’s. Dean ran his hand down over Sam’s jean-front, palming his erection firmly before gripping his balls. Sam inhaled sharply. Dean saw a flicker of pain flash over his eyes and a stab of remorse hit him, terrified he’d hurt Sam.
"Dean," Sam smiled to reassure. "I’m fine. I never give you more than I can handle."
He knew he was truthful. While Dean always gave Sam as much as Sam would take, Sam only gave to the limits of his pleasure-pain threshold. It was Dean who always accepted pain, something Sam knew he had to keep a watchful eye for.
Finally Dean was palming Sam through denim again, Sam involuntarily gyrating forward, heightening his own arousal. Dean was feeling such joy at knowing he was causing Sam’s pleasure. He continued his rubbing, listening to Sam’s breathing fasten, savoring the movement of his hips.
As Sam’s panting turned to moaning, Dean pulled his hand away and carefully undid the button on the jeans. Slowly, he started to pull down the zipper.
"Dean, hurry up. Quit teasing." Sam’s voice was a whispered gasp. Frustrated, he moved to unzip himself. Dean slapped his hand away.
"No." He smirked.
"Control freak!"
"You know you love it." Dean’s voice had dropped down an octave and had gained the tone that caused a rumbling deep inside Sam.
"Please… It hurts!" Dean’s eyes shot up from his fixation on Sam’s jeans to see a tear welling in Sam’s eye. Dean freaked out and tore down the zip, spreading the jeans to allow Sam’s erection to spring up, forming a tent in his boxers. "Psych!"
Sam laughed. Then he saw the hurt and anger on Dean’s face and remembered what tonight was supposed to be about - putting an end to Dean’s worry and pain.
"Dean… I’m sorry." He raised his hand to touch his brother’s face, but it was batted away before it could feel the stubbled cheek. "Dean…?"
Then he saw the smirk roll across Dean’s face a second before he was shoved in his chest. Sam was pushed onto his back, his knees bent awkwardly either side of Dean’s thighs.
"No more complaining, Sammy," said Dean as he straightened Sam’s knees and leant down to grab the waist of both jeans and boxers. "Or we can leave out the lube this evening."
Dean ripped down the last two layers covering Sam. He paused, then, material bunched at Sam’s knees. And he examined Sam.
Under the watchful gaze of his brother, Sam felt himself twitch. This of course prompted Dean’s mouth to part in a wide grin. Which in turn reminded Sam what Dean could do with that gorgeous mouth of his, and he shifted a little uncomfortably.
"Dude, you just gonna leave me hanging like this?" Sam looked up at Dean’s lust-filled eyes.
"Doesn’t look like you’re ‘hanging’ to me," smirked Dean, eyes still fixed on Sam’s cock. "Definitely not ‘hanging.’"
"Shove it." Sam glared at Dean, raising himself up onto his elbows and nudging Dean’s legs with his still-trapped knees.
"Oh, I’ll shove it. And at this rate, without the lube!" Dean chortled.
"Bitch."
"Whore." Dean lifted up Sam’s left knee and tugged at the denim ankle. Removing the jean leg, he tugged off the boxers. Smiling, he easily pulled both off of Sam’s right leg.
Sam watched Dean ball up the jeans and underwear before throwing them over Sam’s head and onto the floor. "You throw like a girl."
Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out the tube of lube that permanently lived there. "I’ll put this away, then, shall I? I said, No. More. Complaining."
"Who said I was complaining? You blow like a girl, too!"
"You know I blow better than any girl who’s had her mouth wrapped around that thick silk shaft of yours." Dean’s voice had once more taken on a husky, breathless sound.
Sam, then and there, thought he might’ve blown his load. Dean’s mouth always pushed Sam’s buttons, whether it was dirty words, kissing, or a blow job that blew his mind.
> > > > > >
The first time, Sam was 14, Dean graduating high school and just turned 18. John had been off on a hunt, leaving his sons alone for another week. Dean was working on developing his skills, his sexual prowess on - how stereotypical - a cheerleader from the sophomore class.
Dean had bribed Sam with movies from Blockbuster, microwave popcorn and enough Pepsi to keep him up for a week - the latter a serious lapse in Dean’s judgement. And into Sam and Dean’s shared bedroom, Dean had brought Jenny.
Sam had sat downstairs, watching The Terminator. He didn’t like it though - if time travel were possible in the future, his Dad would surely have travelled back in time to save his mom.
So eventually Sam hit stop on the VCR and riffled through the other tapes. His eyes had wandered to the living room door. His mind travelled through the hallway to his room and to what Dean was doing with that girl. Sam’s curiosity grew and he started thinking up possible scenarios.
He was sure that they were making out. Sam lived vicariously through Dean as he was told tales after each date.
> > > > > >
Dean would enter their bedroom. Sam would be in bed. Dean would whisper, "Sammy, you awake?"
"Yeah." Sam would whisper back. He’d always be awake. A mix of jealousy that it wasn’t Sam, Dean was doing those things to, and excitement that Dean was about to share with Sam what he’d just done.
Dean would tell Sam what the girl felt like. What she wore. What clothes she removed. What she smelt like. What she looked like. What she tasted like. Where she touched Dean. What clothes Dean shed. And what Dean felt when he was with her.
Listening, Sam would slowly start to drift off into dreams in which he were the girl Dean described. And he was doing those things. And Dean was doing those things to him. And Sam would whisper softly, "Dean, why don’t you do those things with me?"
Dean would whisper back, as he slipped from his own bed and into Sam’s, "Sammy, you’re too young. I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t want to pressure you. One day you’ll understand. One day you’ll meet a girl."
Dean would wrap himself around Sam and breathe in his hair. Sam would already be asleep but in spite of this, or more likely because of it, Dean would whisper, "But until that girl comes along, I’ll be all yours. And you will be mine."
< < < < < <
This time it was different. This time Sam wasn’t waiting in anticipation for a bedtime story. This time the story was going on in his bedroom. So why wait? Dean would tell him about it later. And Sam was curious. And suddenly uncomfortable in his pants.
Sam often thought about Dean, in the shower and in bed, those nights Dean was out. Often, nowadays, out on a job with their father. And Sam would fantasise. That it was Dean’s hand, not his own. And that he could feel Dean’s lips against his. And Dean’s fingers were curled in his growing hair.
Sam wanted to imagine that now. And from all the stories Dean had told him, he doubted Dean would notice if he cracked the door open and peeked in on him and his date.
That was the moment Sam abandoned his innocence.
Sam crept down the hallway to his bedroom door. It was already open a crack. Sam took this as an invitation - Dean wanted, expected, Sam to see tonight’s bedtime tale. It wasn’t until years later that Sam found out the full truth about that night’s seduction.
Sam heard moans from the darkened room and recognised them as Dean’s. They sounded like those nights when Sam pretended to be asleep, but heard Dean jerking off in the bed beside his. Only now they sounded… more intense.
Sam pushed the door open a little further so there was enough room to poke his head in. He turned his head towards Dean’s bed but instead discovered Dean lying on top of his own. Jenny was draped over Dean’s lower half, hair out and spread over bare skin.
It was clear to Sam, who had two eyes, that Jenny had her mouth over Dean’s cock. Her head was bobbing up and down, Dean’s fists clutching at Sam’s blanket.
From the rising pitch of Dean’s voice, he was getting close. Sam couldn’t tear his eyes off of Dean’s face, eyes shut, teeth bared, between pleasure and pain. And Dean’s eyes shot open. In the direction of the door. Eyes locking on Sam. And he screamed, "Sammy!"
And Dean shot a load of come down Jenny’s mouth. Jenny gagged, having gotten no warning from Dean. And she raised her head, Dean’s orgasm dribbling down her chin.
She turned and rolled onto her side, onto Dean’s legs. And she looked at Sam. And she swallowed. And wiped her chin with the back of her hand. And Sam had never been more jealous of anyone else in his entire life. He stared at her and realised his mouth was gaping in shock. He shut it, but was still in shock at what he had just witnessed and he didn’t move.
"What’s up with your brother, Dean? He wanna be sucked dry like his horny big brother?"
"Not by you, Jenny. My brother wants someone with class."
Sam was stunned. Dean always told Sam that females should be treated as equals. But then Jenny had laughed loudly and pushed herself up and off Dean’s legs.
"Yeah, yeah. But you know I give the best head of class of ’97". She crawled up Dean’s body, up Sam’s bed, and kissed him on the cheek. "Gonna head off. Don’t wanna freak out your brother any more."
"See ya, Jenny."
Dean pulled up his jeans and did up zip and button. He then put his arm behind his head and watched Jenny pulling on her shoes.
"Catch you around Dean." She winked at Sam as she passed out through the door. "Don’t go getting into trouble, Sammy. Your brother’s a bad influence on us all."
Once Jenny was gone, Sam moved in a few steps from the doorway. "You’re on my bed."
"You’re not watching your movies." Dean was watching Sam. Waiting to see how he was going to react.
"They sucked." Dean kept watching him, then laughed. "What?"
Dean shook his head. "Never mind. You know, you ruined your bedtime story. What good’s a story when you already know the ending?"
Sam took another step forward. The memory of Dean’s moans were still echoing in his mind. He shook, as did his voice, as he said, "We could turn it into Part One of a play?"
Sam licked his lips and took yet another step up to the bed. He looked down at Dean with pleading eyes. Dean actually stuttered as he tried to word his reply, "S-Sammy. No. N-no, I couldn’t ask you do to that. No, Sammy."
For a moment he paused and Sam started to cast his eyes downwards in rejection. "No, Sammy, I want to do that to you!"
Dean looked up to catch Sam’s eyes and saw the answer that he was looking for. He swivelled around on the bed, got up, and pushed/guided Sam backward to sit on Dean’s bed.
Sammy’s breathing was heavy as he looked up at Dean - the brother he idolised and loved more than anything in the world.
"And this isn’t any play." Dean chuckled. "You’re too young to have kinks."
Dean leaned forward and gently pushed Sam’s resisting shoulders down on the bed. "Oh, god. I am so going to hell for this!"
He put his hands on Sam’s hips and curled his fingers under sweat pants and boxers.
Sam stared at Dean’s face as he was eyeing the bulge of Sam’s erection in loose pants. Sam saw Dean’s tongue dart out to wet his lips and a small moan escaped his mouth.
Dean’s eyes shot up to Sam’s face and all Sam could see of Dean’s green eyes was a small edge around black pupil. There was fear there. And an ever-flowing pit of lust. Dean’s breathing grew to match his own as he pulled down Sam’s clothes.
Sam’s penis flicked up and Dean was mesmerised at this first view. Sam’s wasn’t as large as Dean, but Dean knew it would grow. He felt such shame in that realisation, yet it also prompted a stir in his own recently sated cock. And the glistening of pre-come was hypnotising to his eyes.
Dean tugged Sam’s clothes further down and off his ankles, pushing them beside his knees on the floor. He spread Sam’s knees and watched a shiver travel through Sam’s body. Then he moved closer, between Sam’s legs, and leaned his head forward to breathe in his brother’s arousal.
Dean’s handing travelled up Sam’s thighs, eliciting another shiver, before stopping on hipbones. He rubbed circles with palms and thumbs. He peered deep into Sam’s eyes. He was terrified he was about to finally cross a final line that would condemn both of their souls to eternal damnation. But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t stop.
And finally he parted his lips and kissed-licked-sucked the pre-come from the head of Sam’s cock. Sam’s body convulsed at this first intimated touch. Dean gripped Sam’s hips hard and pushed him still, into the mattress.
"God! Dean!" Sam thrashed around before gripping the bed sheets as Dean had done just a short time ago.
Dean closed his eyes, licked up the underside of Sam’s cock, then sunk his head down to fill his mouth. Dean felt like he’d finally found home, and it was with Sam’s body completely in his hands. His tongue ran over the head, dragging and savouring the taste and feel of this forbidden touch. He then sunk his head down before starting to bob up and down. Slowly, at first, allowing his lips to now feel the silky skin of his baby brother’s shaft. Then he increased his speed, finding confidence and comfort as he felt his lips beginning to bruise.
Sam was chanting Dean’s name now, "Dean! … Dean! … Dean!"
And then the moment came when Sam’s body tensed, Sam screamed Dean’s name. Dean sunk his lips all the way down to the base of Sam’s cock, somehow avoiding a gag reflex he simply must not have had. Dean swallowed as he felt Sam’s come force its way to the back of his throat and he kept swallowing until every drop of the pearl wine was gone.
Dean pulled his lips away from Home. He’d opened drowsy eyes and looked up into the face of the boy he had just sucked dry.
Sam had stared back into those eyes and he’d never felt more content in his entire life.
Dean had stood up with Sam’s clothes in hand. He’d tenderly helped Sam pull them on. Then they’d crawled under the covers. Dean had pulled Sam’s back close to him and they had fallen asleep, Dean’s face buried into Sam’s hair, at peace.
< < < < < <
Sam looked at the man his brother had become and pushed his naked body back up to straddle Dean’s thighs.
"Do you know just how beautiful you are?" Sam trailed fingers down Dean’s chest. "Words could never fully encompass how beautiful I think you are."
Sam looked down at Dean’s face and deep into his eyes. He wished anything that he could be able to not see the hurt and anguish hiding below the surface.
Dean was looking back at Sam. Arms threaded beneath Sam’s, massaging the muscles on his mid-back. Looking at Sam, trying to find something in his eyes - forgiveness for being alive when their father wasn’t.
"Dean…" Sam could always read his brother so well. "Dad died for you. He couldn’t face the world knowing his War cost you your life. He chose to trade places. And if Dad had told me his plan, I don’t know I would have stopped him.
"I couldn’t face losing you. If it were Dad and me? Dealing with you dying? Dude, we would have killed each other! So look in here," Sam placed his right hand over Dean’s chest, over his heart. "You know Dad couldn’t face losing you. Don’t you know how important you are to me? Don’t you know how important you were to him? We couldn’t lose you. And it was his choice. If it wasn’t that the price was too high, I’d be with you on finding a way to bring him back. But I know he’d tell us price isn’t worth it. And I won’t let you make any deals with demons.
"So let me show you how much I’m glad you’re here." Sam’s face broke. "With me."
A tear fell down Dean’s right cheek, finally unable to hold in the emotions Sam’s confession evoked, walls cracking under the flow of Sam’s outburst. Dean pulled Sam close, burying his face into the nook between Sam’s neck and shoulder.
Sam ran his hand over Dean’s gel-hardened hair as he felt Dean’s lips on his skin. Sam’s head tilted to the left, allowing Dean more room to trail butterfly kisses down his neck. He swallowed at the feeling of cool air drying Dean’s tears on his skin. And he gulped hard as Dean gripped his shoulders from behind, guiding him back just enough to continue his kisses down Sam’s collarbone.
Sam’s sighs joined the sound of wet kissing as Dean’s lips travelled down his pecks and latched onto Sam’s nipple. Dean tonguing and licking turned Sam’s sighs sharp as they fell further into the emotions of lust and desire quickly overtaking any control they had over the situation.
Dean moved to Sam’s other nipple and the sighs dissolved into moans at the point when Dean bit down on Sam’s hard nub.
"Dean…" Sam gasped breathlessly. "I need. To feel… you… Inside. Me."
The sucking and licking didn’t sway, so Sam made Dean pay attention. He pulled his chest away from Dean’s mouth, forcing Dean to look into Sam’s eyes.
Sam wished he’d left Dean sucking. His mouth was open, lips scarlet red, glistening wet, panting, pure lust. But those darkened moss-green eyes… Sam couldn’t bare to look at them.
Dean’s pupils were dilated with arousal, but at the same time, they were glazed over with despair. His pain not shattered by the passions Sam evoked in him, that he thought took Dean away from all the pain their lives caused themselves.
Sam leaned down and embraced Dean, pulling his torso close to his own exposed skin. Sam pressed his cheek against Dean’s scratchy face and whispered in his ear, "Let me help. Take your pain away."
Sam ground down his hips on Dean’s open-jeaned crotch, feeling the material scratch his inner thighs. And he shuddered inside at Dean’s low, guttural moan. He adjusted his weight back and pushed hands down Dean’s waist to pull down jeans and boxers, finally revealing Dean’s most valued weapon when it came to the love they shared. "Hey there, Dean Jnr."
Dean snickered at Sam’s coo and Sam managed to catch his eye again with a flash of teeth. He slid backwards to pull clothing down to his ankles. Then, with a tug, finally off, throwing the material in the direction of the floor between bed and wall where somewhere the shirt lay, too. And as the lust in Dean’s eyes finally over-rode the pain, guilt and despair, Sam allowed himself to relax.
"There’s the Dean who gave me my first blow job." Sam smiled to himself. Dean arched an eye.
"Oh, is that what Sammy wants? Sammy doesn’t always get what Sammy wants!" His voice took on a gravelly edge, "Not unless little Sammy begs."
If it wasn’t for the shiver rolling down Sam’s spine from hearing his lover so dominantly claiming his place, Sam would have smiled in the realisation that his Dean had returned. Instead, what he did do, was turn around, with his back facing Dean, and lean forward. He tilted his head and looked over his shoulder. "How ‘bout you lube me up instead?"
"Aww, isn’t Sammy gonna beg?"
"No. SAM is not beggin’. And if you don’t wanna fuck me up the asshole, feeling me squeezing around your cock as I squirm, then…" Sam straightened up and moved to climb off of Dean. But before he’d moved an inch, he felt Dean’s hands on his hips. He unceremoniously fell forward as his arse was pulled sharply towards Dean. A smile tugged at his lips and he was inwardly relieved Dean couldn’t see it, rough sex not something he felt to be safe, with an unstable Dean.
"You aren’t going anywhere." Dean squeezed Sam’s hips and shook him once to let him know he was to obey this command. Sam moved his upper body down so that he was lying comfortably on Dean’s legs while still kneeling on either side of thighs, presenting himself to Dean.
He felt Dean let go of his hips so he turned his head to peek over his shoulder. Dean responded to this unauthorised action with a sharp slap on Sam’s cheeks.
"Dean!"
"Face forward."
"Don’t slap my ass!"
"That’s what naughty Sammy gets for refusing to beg."
"It’s Sam," he sulked in challenge to the unwanted rough play. "And you gonna lube me up or should I just turn Oprah back on?"
Sam heard Dean growl behind him, mumbling something incoherent. There was a rustling in the sheets. Sam laughed - Dean was trying to find his lube. Then another grunt - Bingo! And a few seconds later felt Dean’s left hand placed at the base of his spine. And then there was the familiar pressure of Dean’s finger pressed against his opening, hovering there with just a hint of movement.
"Quit. Fucking. Teasing." Sam pushed himself back, trying to force the entry of Dean’s finger. Dean’s response was of course removing his finger from Sam’s skin.
"But I’ve got such a pretty view." Dean smirked. And two hands were placed on two cheeks, thumbs slipping inwards, spreading.
"Dean." Sam warned.
"Be quiet, I’m enjoying the view." Sam could feel Dean’s breath against the hint of wetness at his opening.
"Dean!" And then Sam let out an involuntary moan as a warm wet tongue licked a line from the base of his balls, over soft, sensitive skin, to his hole. Where Dean then traced slow circles before forcing his tongue inside.
Finally feeling Dean inside, Sam arched his back and his voice cracked. "Jesus, Dean!"
Sam could feel Dean’s tongue tighten as a smile reached his mouth. Every sensation never getting old, always feeling new, always eliciting the same unrestrained responses. Warm, wet tongue pushing in and pulling out, stretching the opening. Dean ran his tongue in a circular motion, stretching in different directions, pushing in as far as his mouth could reach, licking as deep as flesh would allow.
And in an instant it was gone. And so were Dean’s hands. Sam whimpered aloud at the feeling of emptiness it caused, but before Sam could feel loneliness migrate from brain to heart, Dean’s left hand was back at the base of spine. And a finger was again teasing his anus.
Dean finally pushed his digit inside and Sam felt his muscles involuntarily tighten. Dean paused, rubbed Sam’s back, waiting for Sam to relax. "Going to feel so good, when I get inside you."
When he felt Sam release the grip on his finger, he pushed in and pulled out until he moved with ease. One finger was then removed, and replaced with two.
"God that looks good," said Dean once he managed to get fingers in past the second knuckle. He scissored his fingers, driving in and out, slowly at first, and Sam began to moan. "Sounds good, too."
Sam started to push back, setting a rhythm for his pleasure. Turned on by Sam’s movements, Dean pushed harder, deeper, faster. Sam’s moans were louder now. Twisting fingers, scissoring more viciously, ‘safe’ no longer at the forefront of Sam’s mind. Ramming swallowed digits deeper and deeper until they finally found Sam’s prostate.
At the scream, "That feel good, Sam?"
"God yes!"
"Good." And suddenly the fingers were gone. A pitiful cry-filled moan escaping Sam’s gasping mouth in exasperation. "Turn around."
Sam would have complained, but he knew that if he did, Dean would be more than tempted to not lube up his own dick. Bastard. So he kept his lips zipped and moved gangly limbs around so that he could once more look his true love deep in those gorgeous gold-speckled green eyes.
Glancing down, his mouth turned into a grin as he saw Dean’s hand curled around his already half-lubed cock. Seeing eyes watching him, Dean made slow, languishing strokes. He looked back into Sam’s eyes and bit his own bottom lip, teasing him.
Humming a breathy, stifled moan, Sam placed his hands on Dean’s thighs and kneaded them gently. Sam looked deep into Dean’s eyes, making sure he was seeing him.
"Dean. I love you."
Choking, Dean almost bit through his lip. He looked at Sam, searching for a sign that he was kidding. Yet there was nothing but sincerity in those eyes and that straight, beautiful face. "Jeez, Sam!"
"I need you to know that. I love you, ok?" Sam watched him. Not waiting for Dean to admit that he reciprocated those sentiments - Sam knew he did and that was enough. He just needed to see that Dean understood he meant it.
"Yeah, Sam. Ok."
He leaned forward and lightly kissed Dean’s swollen mouth. Dean removed his hand from his slicked crotch and reached around to Sam’s back to pull him close.
Sam now slid right up to Dean, them chest to chest, crotch to crotch. They both ground their cocks together as Sam pushed his tongue through his brother’s lips and explored his beautiful mouth.
Both men wanted more, and Dean wasn’t one to waste precious lube. Strong hands slid down the younger man’s back, tracing muscle and bones, finally finding holds on hip bones.
Dean spread his fingers and rubbed skin with his thumb to let Sam know it was time. He pulled back from the kiss and looked into those determined green eyes. His hands found places on Dean’s shoulders and he allowed the hands on his hips to guide the movements.
So easily and naturally, arse was moved above cock and they both paused to savour the moment when the head was pressed against opening. Two sets of lust filled, dilated eyes stared across at each other in a blissful moment, knowing what was to come.
"How you doing?" asked the older man, concern shining through desire and personal need.
"I’m good." Was the reply, with movement downward to indicate readiness.
Dean pulled tightly gripped hips downwards and Sam tried to relax his muscles as the swollen head of his brother’s cock forced its entry. They looked at each other, finally feeling that they were home. Pausing to allow Sam’s muscles to adapt to the intrusion, finally Dean was inside him.
Confident he was ready, Dean pulled Sam’s hips down further and the long-haired man let out a pleasure-pain moan. Then the hips were pulled upwards sharply until cock was almost teared from Sam’s arse before being slammed down. Sam screamed and threw his head back as Dean’s perfectly guided cock hit his prostate.
Dean smirked. Sam could never figure out how his brother seemed to know and commit to memory every inch of his body - even those many inches inside him.
"That feel good, Sammy?" he breathed, relishing in feeling hidden muscles clenched around his buried cock.
Sam could barely manage a garbled "ungh" so Dean removed his lube-slicked right hand from waist and brought it to wrap around Sam’s own erection. Fingers curled, Dean’s fist rose up from the base, slowly. Then down and up again, agonisingly slow. Sam’s head rolled to the side and finally back up to watch Dean’s face as his thumb moved to travel over the head, and the slit, eliciting a shiver which Dean felt around his own cock.
"Sam." Dean looked into his eyes serious suddenly. "This isn’t working."
Sam swore a part of him shattered inside as Dean pulled him up and off, vacating his cock, leaving Home. But then a flash of a smirk flew across his face and in an act that should surely not be as easy as Dean made it appear, he’d flipped them around, Sam now underneath, with a pillow being adjusted beneath his hips.
Dean looked down at Sam whose eyes were still wide in surprise. "That’s better."
He smoothed his hands over Sam’s soft chest and slowly pushed his way back inside with a grown. This time carefully watched his brother’s face to ensure he hadn’t caused any damage with the earlier thrust inside. He saw nothing but pleasure on Sam’s face at feeling his protector inside him and he paused, leaning down to take Sam’s mouth with his own. He shook his head once. "You have no idea how good it feels to be inside you."
Dean looked down into glazed eyes and read it as a sign to start moving again. He pulled out and pushed in, adjusting to this new angle, before increasing his speed. He angled his hips to reach different places inside him and started to coo to Sam.
"You feel so tight." Thrust.
"Need to feel you ’round me." Thrust.
"Been too long." Thrust.
"Gotta have my cock deep inside you." Thrust.
"Wanna fill you." Thrust.
"Need to make you come." Thrust.
He wrapped his hand around Sam’s own cock.
"Need you to need me." Thrust.
"Need you to want me." Thrust.
"Need to know you’re not gonna leave me." THRUST!
Dean was almost sobbing now.
"Don’t you ever leave me!" THRUST!
Dean was panting, and no longer had enough breath to speak and jerked Sam off to the rhythm inside his arse.
Dean felt Sam’s muscles tighten around him and he pushed as deep and as hard as their bodies would allow, milking Sam’s shaft brutally. The tight friction pushing him to his own release as hot, sticky come spilled over hand and chest and both let out screams of passion as he shot his load deep into Sam. Rocking and thrusting and tugging until both were spent.
Dean lay his head on Sam’s chest as Sam’s hand curled its way into the short hair at the back of his head. Dean’s hands clutched at Sam’s sides like he never planned to ever let go, and Sam was ok with that. His cock was still between their stomaches and his load now sticky on both their chests. Dean was still buried deep in his brother, but for the moment all he wanted was to know they were together.
Countless minutes passed until Sam realised their breathing had slowed down and they were starting to drift off to sleep. Slowly he rolled them onto their sides and Dean’s hand curled around to grip his back. But carefully he pulled away feeling Dean’s now limp cock slide from inside him. Dean let out a mournful whimper before Sam lay I kiss on his lips and pulling away to the edge of the bed.
Feeling a dribbling of liquid between his legs he smiled in satisfaction. Then he moved off the bed and padded to the bathroom, feeling his brother’s gaze on his back.
"Where you goin’?" Came a drowsy complaint from the bed. The response, a towel thrown from the bathroom.
A few minutes later, the toilet flushed and Sam returned. He ducked the towel aimed at his head and he walked over to his bad and dug out a clean pair of boxers.
"I can’t believe you were watching Oprah." This time a pillow hit him in the back as he leant down to pull on the shorts.
He turned around to find Dean under the covers of Sam’s bed. Rolling his eyes he made his way across the room. "Aww, what’s wrong, Dean? Didn’t want to sleep in your bed?"
"It’s wet." Dean deadpanned. He lifted the covers to allow room in front of him while Sam laughed. "You getting in or what?"
He climbed in and curled onto his side, shifting until his back was pressed against Dean’s front. "How you doin’ in that head of yours?"
"Pillow talk can wait ‘til morning." Dean draped his right arm over Sam’s side, resting against his chest. "Shut up and go to sleep."
Sam snuggled back, finding his home, safe in his older brother’s embrace. Satisfied he would survive in that closed-up head, at least for one more day.
A/N: So… Feedback? Please? *begs* I clearly need it! *nods* PLEASE!!!!
Author: fpvs
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Dean/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, underage sex, rimming (*pouts* no-one lists rimming anymore!)
Word Count: 7,758
Summary: Set directly after Crossroad Blues. Sam sees Dean angsting and takes it upon himself to make him better.
Disclaimer: The boys aren’t mine. They’re Kripke’s, the CW’s, sorta Jensen and Jared’s…. Not mine, anyways. I just borrow them. Play with them a little. And put them back into their individual boxes until next time :) Please don’t sue! I just wanna make people happy.
A/N: My first full-length fic. My first explicit fic. My first to be cross-posted. Please be kind, but all constructive criticism and praise greatly appreciated. If people like my writing, I have, like, 8 Plot!Bunnies rearing to go! Lol (And yes… I know the ending is a little dodgy… But let me have it?? First fic and all! *nods*). MASSIVE thankyou to arsilver_angel for Beta'ing and helping kick me in the right direction with some serious re-writes at the start of this fic. And to terriblesix... Without whome I wouldn't have been writing this fic on the bathroom of a hotel room in NYC in the wee hours of the morning.
"When you were trapping that demon, you weren’t... I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never considered actually making that... deal. Right?" Dean looked ahead at the road, eyes shifting away from anywhere resembling Sam’s direction, tears appearing in his eyes. And the music is turned from Blues to Rock, extinguishing any possibility of continuing the conversation.
He looked over at his broken brother knowing that once again, Dean had raised a giant barrier to keep him at a distance. Everything had gone so horribly wrong. Before the crossroad, they had finally been talking again… Finally been able to start healing from the loss of their father. And now they were back at square one.
Sam could never tell Dean how much he needed him… It was simply an unspoken bond that had finally re-blossomed since he’d left Palo Alto. He needed Dean to keep him in line. To stop his own brooding relapses. To brag about girls and music and anything that would pop-up in that faux carefree head of his. But now Dean was sitting there, a half-broken man, lost in a sea of depression.
He watched as Dean purposely avoided looking in his direction knowing that if he did, Sam would force him to talk. But if this kept up, Sam knew it would kill him… Eat him up inside till there was no spark of him left. It was now up to Sam to drag him (kicking and screaming if need be) out of yet another rut. He didn’t need to be Psychic Boy-Wonder to feel the waves of pain flowing from Dean, just an inch below the surface. It was his turn to fix his brother. At least enough to survive one more day.
* * * * *
Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. Oprah. They were watching Oprah! On any other day, Sam would be all over his brother for such a girly lapse in judgment. Today however, he was too consumed with the haunted look in the older brother’s eyes. It filled his heart with not only pain and worry, but dread. Only after their father passed away had Dean become so closed off, clashing with Sam’s mental image of his usual, smart alec, abrasive self.
They both sat unmoving, watching Oprah have yet another heart-to-heart with the latest Hollywood divorcé. Enough was enough! Sam stood up forcefully from his cheap hotel bed and grabbed the TV remote off the adjoining nightstand and with a slightly audible hum the screen went blank.
After a few moments, Dean finally turned his gaze from the dead TV to focus on Sam with barely a hint of annoyance in his eyes.
"Dean, you can’t go on like this!"
Another slight pause and Dean averted his eyes from Sam’s face to stare at the wall running along the side of his equally time-wearied bed. His gaze traveled along the wall to the open bathroom door, trying to feign distraction to Sam’s intrusion.
"Dean, would you look at me?" Sam sat down, next to Dean’s legs. "Look at me, dammit! Don’t you know how much this is killing me to watch you like this? You were watching friggin’ Oprah! And you don’t seem to mind the fact I’m here and will mock you later."
Sam was hoping for something - anything - to let him know that some part of what made Dean, Dean was still there. But all he got were green listless eyes turned back on him reflecting nothing but indifference.
Sam leaned forward looking deeply into his brother’s eyes. With nowhere else to turn, Dean locked gazes with the relentless young hunter. They were so close to each other and Dean’s eyes flicked down to Sam’s lips as he unconsciously licked his own.
Tilting his head slightly, Sam parted his mouth and Dean could feel his brother’s warm breath on his skin. "I need to know you’re feeling something separate from the pain."
Sam closed his eyes and leaned in, closing the unbearable gap between the two as their lips touched. This, their first kiss since the events that lead up to the death of their father, a death by the hands of a yellow-eyed Demon that had plagued their lives for so long.
Reaching up to cup Dean’s chin he felt a wetness on the elder’s cheeks. Opening his eyes he saw a trail of tears that made their way down to the sheets in the space left between them.
"God, Dean. What happened in that head of yours?"
With a vacant look in his eyes, as if he had nothing left to give, he softly spoke, "Why’d he have to do it, Sam? How could he do that to me? How could he leave me? How could he say those things to me and not even tell me? He didn’t even say Goodbye…"
Upon hearing the broken confession, he once more kissed Dean. Softly at first, then slowly deepening the kiss by devouring his pouting lips and deeper still to caresses Dean’s tongue with his own. Salty tears made their way into the emotional chaos that lined each boy’s faces and Sam felt the instinctual urge to kiss them all away.
He sidled across the bed, moving up Dean’s body, not letting their lips part for even a second. Finally reaching the elder’s lap he straddled Dean’s thighs to prevent any possible attempt at escape. Through a fierce battle of wills Sam was proving victor, having strategically maneuvered his brother with his back pressed hard against the bed’s headboard. A shiver ran up and down his spine, allowing himself an instant to realise that he was in command, and in control.
Sam felt the tenseness in Dean’s body finally give way. He let his hand find it’s way from the back of Dean’s neck to his shoulder, massaging any tense muscles he encountered before he took hold of strong arms. His fingers lightly traced the outlines of bulges through half rolled-up shirt arms. Sam then moved both hands to the front of his brother’s chest pawing at the material that was cruelly preventing him from being able to caress Dean’s soft bronze skin. With a swift tug and pull he had the offending material pushed down behind him, trapping Dean’s arms to his sides. He then shifted his body weight, pushing his crotch forward and causing a shattered moan to escape Dean’s throat.
He pulled his mouth back causing Dean to emit a small whimper that escaped his lips and unwittingly force him to tilt his face upwards, trying to close the gap between the two. With that small action Sam knew he was definitely in command.
"No," he challenged. "Tell me what you want, Dean. Tell me what you need."
"I need to feel you." It was almost a whisper and if Sam had been any further than those few inches, he might have missed it.
Looking deep into his brother’s elusive darkened green eyes he saw the raw need, mixed with desire, coated with that heart-shattering underlaying haunted pain. "Ok."
He pulled Dean’s buttoned shirt the rest of the way off his arms and tossed it carelessly off the side of the bed. Long fingers crept up under Dean’s dark cotton undershirt only to encounter hardening nipples. Slowly, agonizingly, Sam rolled them under his fingertips to be rewarded by a shiver and tender moan coming from Dean’s parted lips. Forcing his brother’s arms up, Sam pulled off the last intrusive article of clothing from the elder’s torso. Doing so, he couldn’t help letting eyes linger on the hair beneath Dean’s armpits.
Noticing his brother’s paused gaze, a slight smirk formed on Dean’s face, lighting eyes and stretching red lips over a flash of white teeth. That crack in Dean’s brooding cheered Sam up with the hope of having his old brother back. As in challenge to Sam’s previous disrobing actions Dean teasingly questioned, "Why’re you still hiding your stick body, hmm? Thought you were trying to make me feel better."
He playfully rolled his eyes before letting Dean briefly take control, shedding useless excess layers of clothing. He felt relief in his chest to see more of the hurt in Dean’s eyes turning to lust. "Jesus, Sam. You’re so beautiful."
"Dude, d’you just say I’m beautiful?" Sam tilted his head and laughed. "Sissy!"
"Bitch."
"Whore."
"I’m not the one about to find himself with a cock up his ass." Sam looked straight back at Dean.
"That’s way it’s gonna be tonight?" Sam’s voice took on a husky, breathless edge. No matter what his brother’s mind-set, it was always Dean’s choice. Unspoken older brother’s prerogative. What his mood was. Where his head was. Did he want the power, or did he want Sam doing the work?
The times Dean chose to be submissive to Sam weren’t talked about. They happened rarely enough that they both ignored them. Especially as they always were out of fear on Dean’s behalf. His fear that Sam was slipping away. That he was turning away from Dean, to find life or love elsewhere. Fear he wouldn’t return to Dean in the end. Alone, this was reason enough for Sam to pretend those nights never happened. But there were times - when Dean was feeling Sam slipping away - that he gave Sam that indulgence.
> > > > > >
The first time was the night before Sam left for college. Dean had begged Sam to stay. Not with his words - Sam knew he was incapable of that - but with those eyes. And those eyes had almost broken him and his resolve to leave.
When Sam had thrust deep inside him, hitting Dean’s prostate unrelenting -with an unnatural sense of direction within his body - he’d watched a tear fall down his face. A single salty tear that Sam told himself was from the pain of the sex. But deep down he knew Dean would never let physical pain escape like that - their father had taught Dean better than that.
< < < < < <
Their father. God, Dad! He hadn’t seen such a haunted look in Dean’s eyes, like was there right now, since that summer night all those years ago. He’d do everything he could to keep that look out of those yellow-flecked dark green eyes. Anything and everything.
Dean was watching him. Christ, he was waiting for him to make a move. Another first in this relationship of theirs - Dean was relinquishing power, if only for tonight.
Sam leaned in for another kiss. First allowing lips to brush teasingly over Dean’s, emitting an aching whimper from his suffering brother’s throat. Then light kisses. Tilting heads to make sure Sam’s nose didn’t get squashed - that always resulted in Dean bursting into laughter.
> > > > > >
That first, almost innocent, kiss Sam had given Dean - Sam 12, Dean beginning to fill out at 16 - had almost crushed Sam. Dean had erupted into giggles and Sam had thought it was due to embarrassment. He’d thought his brother was disgusted and shocked at his advances. He’d sweated over it - and worried and brooded - for the first time of his adolescence, until two nights later, when Dean had crept from his bed to perch on Sam’s. Sam was pretending to sleep, but Dean, as the all-knowing big brother, knew better.
"Sam, I’ve gotta tell you something." Sam had opened his eyes and Dean had leant down and kissed him, nose angled to the right side of Sam’s squishable nose. When Sam had parted his mouth in shock, Dean had slipped his tongue inside and had given him a kiss he’d never forget. It had also left him more than half hard. "You gotta tilt your head when you kiss. So you don’t crush that soft nose of yours."
Dean was the only one who ever commented on Sam’s habit of kissing straight-faced. And hence he was the only one Sam ever kissed the other way. Just another thing that kept their relationship special and separate from the others that came and passed in their separate lives. Sam knew Dean knew this and he suspected it was the one thing that kept Dean from being jealous of those few females who’d entered Sam’s life. So very ironic, that Dean could feel jealous of the girls he had slept with - so absurd in Sam’s mind. Dean would be the first and would be the last love of Sam’s life.
< < < < < <
So Sam kissed Dean. His head always finding it’s way upright, while Dean’s tilted to the side. Their chests pressed close, sharing rising temperatures as arousal burnt both their skins. Sam ground down on Dean’s groin, causing a hitch in both chests. He knew Dean was as uncomfortable as he was, with erections pressed against the inside threads of jean zippers.
His hand found its way down Dean’s chest, tracing those perfectly defined muscles and arrived at the top of the denim. Sam pulled his mouth away, hearing Dean’s silent moan of disappointment. He looked deep into his eyes as he popped the button. Dean’s eyes widened and pupils dilated as they exchanged looks of desperate lust.
Sam dragged down the zipper, slow enough to feel each of the teeth vibrating through metal and his fingers. Dean drooped his eyelids and let out a long sigh. Finally, Dean, jnr had room to breath. Sam moved to pull the jeans off Dean, hands at either side of his hips when Dean’s eyes flew open.
"No!" There was a command in that voice and Sam knew he never disobeyed his brother in the bedroom. Well, almost never. "Yours come off first."
Dean pulled Sam’s hands away from loose denim, then dropped them to move onto Sam’s. Dean ran his hand down over Sam’s jean-front, palming his erection firmly before gripping his balls. Sam inhaled sharply. Dean saw a flicker of pain flash over his eyes and a stab of remorse hit him, terrified he’d hurt Sam.
"Dean," Sam smiled to reassure. "I’m fine. I never give you more than I can handle."
He knew he was truthful. While Dean always gave Sam as much as Sam would take, Sam only gave to the limits of his pleasure-pain threshold. It was Dean who always accepted pain, something Sam knew he had to keep a watchful eye for.
Finally Dean was palming Sam through denim again, Sam involuntarily gyrating forward, heightening his own arousal. Dean was feeling such joy at knowing he was causing Sam’s pleasure. He continued his rubbing, listening to Sam’s breathing fasten, savoring the movement of his hips.
As Sam’s panting turned to moaning, Dean pulled his hand away and carefully undid the button on the jeans. Slowly, he started to pull down the zipper.
"Dean, hurry up. Quit teasing." Sam’s voice was a whispered gasp. Frustrated, he moved to unzip himself. Dean slapped his hand away.
"No." He smirked.
"Control freak!"
"You know you love it." Dean’s voice had dropped down an octave and had gained the tone that caused a rumbling deep inside Sam.
"Please… It hurts!" Dean’s eyes shot up from his fixation on Sam’s jeans to see a tear welling in Sam’s eye. Dean freaked out and tore down the zip, spreading the jeans to allow Sam’s erection to spring up, forming a tent in his boxers. "Psych!"
Sam laughed. Then he saw the hurt and anger on Dean’s face and remembered what tonight was supposed to be about - putting an end to Dean’s worry and pain.
"Dean… I’m sorry." He raised his hand to touch his brother’s face, but it was batted away before it could feel the stubbled cheek. "Dean…?"
Then he saw the smirk roll across Dean’s face a second before he was shoved in his chest. Sam was pushed onto his back, his knees bent awkwardly either side of Dean’s thighs.
"No more complaining, Sammy," said Dean as he straightened Sam’s knees and leant down to grab the waist of both jeans and boxers. "Or we can leave out the lube this evening."
Dean ripped down the last two layers covering Sam. He paused, then, material bunched at Sam’s knees. And he examined Sam.
Under the watchful gaze of his brother, Sam felt himself twitch. This of course prompted Dean’s mouth to part in a wide grin. Which in turn reminded Sam what Dean could do with that gorgeous mouth of his, and he shifted a little uncomfortably.
"Dude, you just gonna leave me hanging like this?" Sam looked up at Dean’s lust-filled eyes.
"Doesn’t look like you’re ‘hanging’ to me," smirked Dean, eyes still fixed on Sam’s cock. "Definitely not ‘hanging.’"
"Shove it." Sam glared at Dean, raising himself up onto his elbows and nudging Dean’s legs with his still-trapped knees.
"Oh, I’ll shove it. And at this rate, without the lube!" Dean chortled.
"Bitch."
"Whore." Dean lifted up Sam’s left knee and tugged at the denim ankle. Removing the jean leg, he tugged off the boxers. Smiling, he easily pulled both off of Sam’s right leg.
Sam watched Dean ball up the jeans and underwear before throwing them over Sam’s head and onto the floor. "You throw like a girl."
Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out the tube of lube that permanently lived there. "I’ll put this away, then, shall I? I said, No. More. Complaining."
"Who said I was complaining? You blow like a girl, too!"
"You know I blow better than any girl who’s had her mouth wrapped around that thick silk shaft of yours." Dean’s voice had once more taken on a husky, breathless sound.
Sam, then and there, thought he might’ve blown his load. Dean’s mouth always pushed Sam’s buttons, whether it was dirty words, kissing, or a blow job that blew his mind.
> > > > > >
The first time, Sam was 14, Dean graduating high school and just turned 18. John had been off on a hunt, leaving his sons alone for another week. Dean was working on developing his skills, his sexual prowess on - how stereotypical - a cheerleader from the sophomore class.
Dean had bribed Sam with movies from Blockbuster, microwave popcorn and enough Pepsi to keep him up for a week - the latter a serious lapse in Dean’s judgement. And into Sam and Dean’s shared bedroom, Dean had brought Jenny.
Sam had sat downstairs, watching The Terminator. He didn’t like it though - if time travel were possible in the future, his Dad would surely have travelled back in time to save his mom.
So eventually Sam hit stop on the VCR and riffled through the other tapes. His eyes had wandered to the living room door. His mind travelled through the hallway to his room and to what Dean was doing with that girl. Sam’s curiosity grew and he started thinking up possible scenarios.
He was sure that they were making out. Sam lived vicariously through Dean as he was told tales after each date.
> > > > > >
Dean would enter their bedroom. Sam would be in bed. Dean would whisper, "Sammy, you awake?"
"Yeah." Sam would whisper back. He’d always be awake. A mix of jealousy that it wasn’t Sam, Dean was doing those things to, and excitement that Dean was about to share with Sam what he’d just done.
Dean would tell Sam what the girl felt like. What she wore. What clothes she removed. What she smelt like. What she looked like. What she tasted like. Where she touched Dean. What clothes Dean shed. And what Dean felt when he was with her.
Listening, Sam would slowly start to drift off into dreams in which he were the girl Dean described. And he was doing those things. And Dean was doing those things to him. And Sam would whisper softly, "Dean, why don’t you do those things with me?"
Dean would whisper back, as he slipped from his own bed and into Sam’s, "Sammy, you’re too young. I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t want to pressure you. One day you’ll understand. One day you’ll meet a girl."
Dean would wrap himself around Sam and breathe in his hair. Sam would already be asleep but in spite of this, or more likely because of it, Dean would whisper, "But until that girl comes along, I’ll be all yours. And you will be mine."
< < < < < <
This time it was different. This time Sam wasn’t waiting in anticipation for a bedtime story. This time the story was going on in his bedroom. So why wait? Dean would tell him about it later. And Sam was curious. And suddenly uncomfortable in his pants.
Sam often thought about Dean, in the shower and in bed, those nights Dean was out. Often, nowadays, out on a job with their father. And Sam would fantasise. That it was Dean’s hand, not his own. And that he could feel Dean’s lips against his. And Dean’s fingers were curled in his growing hair.
Sam wanted to imagine that now. And from all the stories Dean had told him, he doubted Dean would notice if he cracked the door open and peeked in on him and his date.
That was the moment Sam abandoned his innocence.
Sam crept down the hallway to his bedroom door. It was already open a crack. Sam took this as an invitation - Dean wanted, expected, Sam to see tonight’s bedtime tale. It wasn’t until years later that Sam found out the full truth about that night’s seduction.
Sam heard moans from the darkened room and recognised them as Dean’s. They sounded like those nights when Sam pretended to be asleep, but heard Dean jerking off in the bed beside his. Only now they sounded… more intense.
Sam pushed the door open a little further so there was enough room to poke his head in. He turned his head towards Dean’s bed but instead discovered Dean lying on top of his own. Jenny was draped over Dean’s lower half, hair out and spread over bare skin.
It was clear to Sam, who had two eyes, that Jenny had her mouth over Dean’s cock. Her head was bobbing up and down, Dean’s fists clutching at Sam’s blanket.
From the rising pitch of Dean’s voice, he was getting close. Sam couldn’t tear his eyes off of Dean’s face, eyes shut, teeth bared, between pleasure and pain. And Dean’s eyes shot open. In the direction of the door. Eyes locking on Sam. And he screamed, "Sammy!"
And Dean shot a load of come down Jenny’s mouth. Jenny gagged, having gotten no warning from Dean. And she raised her head, Dean’s orgasm dribbling down her chin.
She turned and rolled onto her side, onto Dean’s legs. And she looked at Sam. And she swallowed. And wiped her chin with the back of her hand. And Sam had never been more jealous of anyone else in his entire life. He stared at her and realised his mouth was gaping in shock. He shut it, but was still in shock at what he had just witnessed and he didn’t move.
"What’s up with your brother, Dean? He wanna be sucked dry like his horny big brother?"
"Not by you, Jenny. My brother wants someone with class."
Sam was stunned. Dean always told Sam that females should be treated as equals. But then Jenny had laughed loudly and pushed herself up and off Dean’s legs.
"Yeah, yeah. But you know I give the best head of class of ’97". She crawled up Dean’s body, up Sam’s bed, and kissed him on the cheek. "Gonna head off. Don’t wanna freak out your brother any more."
"See ya, Jenny."
Dean pulled up his jeans and did up zip and button. He then put his arm behind his head and watched Jenny pulling on her shoes.
"Catch you around Dean." She winked at Sam as she passed out through the door. "Don’t go getting into trouble, Sammy. Your brother’s a bad influence on us all."
Once Jenny was gone, Sam moved in a few steps from the doorway. "You’re on my bed."
"You’re not watching your movies." Dean was watching Sam. Waiting to see how he was going to react.
"They sucked." Dean kept watching him, then laughed. "What?"
Dean shook his head. "Never mind. You know, you ruined your bedtime story. What good’s a story when you already know the ending?"
Sam took another step forward. The memory of Dean’s moans were still echoing in his mind. He shook, as did his voice, as he said, "We could turn it into Part One of a play?"
Sam licked his lips and took yet another step up to the bed. He looked down at Dean with pleading eyes. Dean actually stuttered as he tried to word his reply, "S-Sammy. No. N-no, I couldn’t ask you do to that. No, Sammy."
For a moment he paused and Sam started to cast his eyes downwards in rejection. "No, Sammy, I want to do that to you!"
Dean looked up to catch Sam’s eyes and saw the answer that he was looking for. He swivelled around on the bed, got up, and pushed/guided Sam backward to sit on Dean’s bed.
Sammy’s breathing was heavy as he looked up at Dean - the brother he idolised and loved more than anything in the world.
"And this isn’t any play." Dean chuckled. "You’re too young to have kinks."
Dean leaned forward and gently pushed Sam’s resisting shoulders down on the bed. "Oh, god. I am so going to hell for this!"
He put his hands on Sam’s hips and curled his fingers under sweat pants and boxers.
Sam stared at Dean’s face as he was eyeing the bulge of Sam’s erection in loose pants. Sam saw Dean’s tongue dart out to wet his lips and a small moan escaped his mouth.
Dean’s eyes shot up to Sam’s face and all Sam could see of Dean’s green eyes was a small edge around black pupil. There was fear there. And an ever-flowing pit of lust. Dean’s breathing grew to match his own as he pulled down Sam’s clothes.
Sam’s penis flicked up and Dean was mesmerised at this first view. Sam’s wasn’t as large as Dean, but Dean knew it would grow. He felt such shame in that realisation, yet it also prompted a stir in his own recently sated cock. And the glistening of pre-come was hypnotising to his eyes.
Dean tugged Sam’s clothes further down and off his ankles, pushing them beside his knees on the floor. He spread Sam’s knees and watched a shiver travel through Sam’s body. Then he moved closer, between Sam’s legs, and leaned his head forward to breathe in his brother’s arousal.
Dean’s handing travelled up Sam’s thighs, eliciting another shiver, before stopping on hipbones. He rubbed circles with palms and thumbs. He peered deep into Sam’s eyes. He was terrified he was about to finally cross a final line that would condemn both of their souls to eternal damnation. But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t stop.
And finally he parted his lips and kissed-licked-sucked the pre-come from the head of Sam’s cock. Sam’s body convulsed at this first intimated touch. Dean gripped Sam’s hips hard and pushed him still, into the mattress.
"God! Dean!" Sam thrashed around before gripping the bed sheets as Dean had done just a short time ago.
Dean closed his eyes, licked up the underside of Sam’s cock, then sunk his head down to fill his mouth. Dean felt like he’d finally found home, and it was with Sam’s body completely in his hands. His tongue ran over the head, dragging and savouring the taste and feel of this forbidden touch. He then sunk his head down before starting to bob up and down. Slowly, at first, allowing his lips to now feel the silky skin of his baby brother’s shaft. Then he increased his speed, finding confidence and comfort as he felt his lips beginning to bruise.
Sam was chanting Dean’s name now, "Dean! … Dean! … Dean!"
And then the moment came when Sam’s body tensed, Sam screamed Dean’s name. Dean sunk his lips all the way down to the base of Sam’s cock, somehow avoiding a gag reflex he simply must not have had. Dean swallowed as he felt Sam’s come force its way to the back of his throat and he kept swallowing until every drop of the pearl wine was gone.
Dean pulled his lips away from Home. He’d opened drowsy eyes and looked up into the face of the boy he had just sucked dry.
Sam had stared back into those eyes and he’d never felt more content in his entire life.
Dean had stood up with Sam’s clothes in hand. He’d tenderly helped Sam pull them on. Then they’d crawled under the covers. Dean had pulled Sam’s back close to him and they had fallen asleep, Dean’s face buried into Sam’s hair, at peace.
< < < < < <
Sam looked at the man his brother had become and pushed his naked body back up to straddle Dean’s thighs.
"Do you know just how beautiful you are?" Sam trailed fingers down Dean’s chest. "Words could never fully encompass how beautiful I think you are."
Sam looked down at Dean’s face and deep into his eyes. He wished anything that he could be able to not see the hurt and anguish hiding below the surface.
Dean was looking back at Sam. Arms threaded beneath Sam’s, massaging the muscles on his mid-back. Looking at Sam, trying to find something in his eyes - forgiveness for being alive when their father wasn’t.
"Dean…" Sam could always read his brother so well. "Dad died for you. He couldn’t face the world knowing his War cost you your life. He chose to trade places. And if Dad had told me his plan, I don’t know I would have stopped him.
"I couldn’t face losing you. If it were Dad and me? Dealing with you dying? Dude, we would have killed each other! So look in here," Sam placed his right hand over Dean’s chest, over his heart. "You know Dad couldn’t face losing you. Don’t you know how important you are to me? Don’t you know how important you were to him? We couldn’t lose you. And it was his choice. If it wasn’t that the price was too high, I’d be with you on finding a way to bring him back. But I know he’d tell us price isn’t worth it. And I won’t let you make any deals with demons.
"So let me show you how much I’m glad you’re here." Sam’s face broke. "With me."
A tear fell down Dean’s right cheek, finally unable to hold in the emotions Sam’s confession evoked, walls cracking under the flow of Sam’s outburst. Dean pulled Sam close, burying his face into the nook between Sam’s neck and shoulder.
Sam ran his hand over Dean’s gel-hardened hair as he felt Dean’s lips on his skin. Sam’s head tilted to the left, allowing Dean more room to trail butterfly kisses down his neck. He swallowed at the feeling of cool air drying Dean’s tears on his skin. And he gulped hard as Dean gripped his shoulders from behind, guiding him back just enough to continue his kisses down Sam’s collarbone.
Sam’s sighs joined the sound of wet kissing as Dean’s lips travelled down his pecks and latched onto Sam’s nipple. Dean tonguing and licking turned Sam’s sighs sharp as they fell further into the emotions of lust and desire quickly overtaking any control they had over the situation.
Dean moved to Sam’s other nipple and the sighs dissolved into moans at the point when Dean bit down on Sam’s hard nub.
"Dean…" Sam gasped breathlessly. "I need. To feel… you… Inside. Me."
The sucking and licking didn’t sway, so Sam made Dean pay attention. He pulled his chest away from Dean’s mouth, forcing Dean to look into Sam’s eyes.
Sam wished he’d left Dean sucking. His mouth was open, lips scarlet red, glistening wet, panting, pure lust. But those darkened moss-green eyes… Sam couldn’t bare to look at them.
Dean’s pupils were dilated with arousal, but at the same time, they were glazed over with despair. His pain not shattered by the passions Sam evoked in him, that he thought took Dean away from all the pain their lives caused themselves.
Sam leaned down and embraced Dean, pulling his torso close to his own exposed skin. Sam pressed his cheek against Dean’s scratchy face and whispered in his ear, "Let me help. Take your pain away."
Sam ground down his hips on Dean’s open-jeaned crotch, feeling the material scratch his inner thighs. And he shuddered inside at Dean’s low, guttural moan. He adjusted his weight back and pushed hands down Dean’s waist to pull down jeans and boxers, finally revealing Dean’s most valued weapon when it came to the love they shared. "Hey there, Dean Jnr."
Dean snickered at Sam’s coo and Sam managed to catch his eye again with a flash of teeth. He slid backwards to pull clothing down to his ankles. Then, with a tug, finally off, throwing the material in the direction of the floor between bed and wall where somewhere the shirt lay, too. And as the lust in Dean’s eyes finally over-rode the pain, guilt and despair, Sam allowed himself to relax.
"There’s the Dean who gave me my first blow job." Sam smiled to himself. Dean arched an eye.
"Oh, is that what Sammy wants? Sammy doesn’t always get what Sammy wants!" His voice took on a gravelly edge, "Not unless little Sammy begs."
If it wasn’t for the shiver rolling down Sam’s spine from hearing his lover so dominantly claiming his place, Sam would have smiled in the realisation that his Dean had returned. Instead, what he did do, was turn around, with his back facing Dean, and lean forward. He tilted his head and looked over his shoulder. "How ‘bout you lube me up instead?"
"Aww, isn’t Sammy gonna beg?"
"No. SAM is not beggin’. And if you don’t wanna fuck me up the asshole, feeling me squeezing around your cock as I squirm, then…" Sam straightened up and moved to climb off of Dean. But before he’d moved an inch, he felt Dean’s hands on his hips. He unceremoniously fell forward as his arse was pulled sharply towards Dean. A smile tugged at his lips and he was inwardly relieved Dean couldn’t see it, rough sex not something he felt to be safe, with an unstable Dean.
"You aren’t going anywhere." Dean squeezed Sam’s hips and shook him once to let him know he was to obey this command. Sam moved his upper body down so that he was lying comfortably on Dean’s legs while still kneeling on either side of thighs, presenting himself to Dean.
He felt Dean let go of his hips so he turned his head to peek over his shoulder. Dean responded to this unauthorised action with a sharp slap on Sam’s cheeks.
"Dean!"
"Face forward."
"Don’t slap my ass!"
"That’s what naughty Sammy gets for refusing to beg."
"It’s Sam," he sulked in challenge to the unwanted rough play. "And you gonna lube me up or should I just turn Oprah back on?"
Sam heard Dean growl behind him, mumbling something incoherent. There was a rustling in the sheets. Sam laughed - Dean was trying to find his lube. Then another grunt - Bingo! And a few seconds later felt Dean’s left hand placed at the base of his spine. And then there was the familiar pressure of Dean’s finger pressed against his opening, hovering there with just a hint of movement.
"Quit. Fucking. Teasing." Sam pushed himself back, trying to force the entry of Dean’s finger. Dean’s response was of course removing his finger from Sam’s skin.
"But I’ve got such a pretty view." Dean smirked. And two hands were placed on two cheeks, thumbs slipping inwards, spreading.
"Dean." Sam warned.
"Be quiet, I’m enjoying the view." Sam could feel Dean’s breath against the hint of wetness at his opening.
"Dean!" And then Sam let out an involuntary moan as a warm wet tongue licked a line from the base of his balls, over soft, sensitive skin, to his hole. Where Dean then traced slow circles before forcing his tongue inside.
Finally feeling Dean inside, Sam arched his back and his voice cracked. "Jesus, Dean!"
Sam could feel Dean’s tongue tighten as a smile reached his mouth. Every sensation never getting old, always feeling new, always eliciting the same unrestrained responses. Warm, wet tongue pushing in and pulling out, stretching the opening. Dean ran his tongue in a circular motion, stretching in different directions, pushing in as far as his mouth could reach, licking as deep as flesh would allow.
And in an instant it was gone. And so were Dean’s hands. Sam whimpered aloud at the feeling of emptiness it caused, but before Sam could feel loneliness migrate from brain to heart, Dean’s left hand was back at the base of spine. And a finger was again teasing his anus.
Dean finally pushed his digit inside and Sam felt his muscles involuntarily tighten. Dean paused, rubbed Sam’s back, waiting for Sam to relax. "Going to feel so good, when I get inside you."
When he felt Sam release the grip on his finger, he pushed in and pulled out until he moved with ease. One finger was then removed, and replaced with two.
"God that looks good," said Dean once he managed to get fingers in past the second knuckle. He scissored his fingers, driving in and out, slowly at first, and Sam began to moan. "Sounds good, too."
Sam started to push back, setting a rhythm for his pleasure. Turned on by Sam’s movements, Dean pushed harder, deeper, faster. Sam’s moans were louder now. Twisting fingers, scissoring more viciously, ‘safe’ no longer at the forefront of Sam’s mind. Ramming swallowed digits deeper and deeper until they finally found Sam’s prostate.
At the scream, "That feel good, Sam?"
"God yes!"
"Good." And suddenly the fingers were gone. A pitiful cry-filled moan escaping Sam’s gasping mouth in exasperation. "Turn around."
Sam would have complained, but he knew that if he did, Dean would be more than tempted to not lube up his own dick. Bastard. So he kept his lips zipped and moved gangly limbs around so that he could once more look his true love deep in those gorgeous gold-speckled green eyes.
Glancing down, his mouth turned into a grin as he saw Dean’s hand curled around his already half-lubed cock. Seeing eyes watching him, Dean made slow, languishing strokes. He looked back into Sam’s eyes and bit his own bottom lip, teasing him.
Humming a breathy, stifled moan, Sam placed his hands on Dean’s thighs and kneaded them gently. Sam looked deep into Dean’s eyes, making sure he was seeing him.
"Dean. I love you."
Choking, Dean almost bit through his lip. He looked at Sam, searching for a sign that he was kidding. Yet there was nothing but sincerity in those eyes and that straight, beautiful face. "Jeez, Sam!"
"I need you to know that. I love you, ok?" Sam watched him. Not waiting for Dean to admit that he reciprocated those sentiments - Sam knew he did and that was enough. He just needed to see that Dean understood he meant it.
"Yeah, Sam. Ok."
He leaned forward and lightly kissed Dean’s swollen mouth. Dean removed his hand from his slicked crotch and reached around to Sam’s back to pull him close.
Sam now slid right up to Dean, them chest to chest, crotch to crotch. They both ground their cocks together as Sam pushed his tongue through his brother’s lips and explored his beautiful mouth.
Both men wanted more, and Dean wasn’t one to waste precious lube. Strong hands slid down the younger man’s back, tracing muscle and bones, finally finding holds on hip bones.
Dean spread his fingers and rubbed skin with his thumb to let Sam know it was time. He pulled back from the kiss and looked into those determined green eyes. His hands found places on Dean’s shoulders and he allowed the hands on his hips to guide the movements.
So easily and naturally, arse was moved above cock and they both paused to savour the moment when the head was pressed against opening. Two sets of lust filled, dilated eyes stared across at each other in a blissful moment, knowing what was to come.
"How you doing?" asked the older man, concern shining through desire and personal need.
"I’m good." Was the reply, with movement downward to indicate readiness.
Dean pulled tightly gripped hips downwards and Sam tried to relax his muscles as the swollen head of his brother’s cock forced its entry. They looked at each other, finally feeling that they were home. Pausing to allow Sam’s muscles to adapt to the intrusion, finally Dean was inside him.
Confident he was ready, Dean pulled Sam’s hips down further and the long-haired man let out a pleasure-pain moan. Then the hips were pulled upwards sharply until cock was almost teared from Sam’s arse before being slammed down. Sam screamed and threw his head back as Dean’s perfectly guided cock hit his prostate.
Dean smirked. Sam could never figure out how his brother seemed to know and commit to memory every inch of his body - even those many inches inside him.
"That feel good, Sammy?" he breathed, relishing in feeling hidden muscles clenched around his buried cock.
Sam could barely manage a garbled "ungh" so Dean removed his lube-slicked right hand from waist and brought it to wrap around Sam’s own erection. Fingers curled, Dean’s fist rose up from the base, slowly. Then down and up again, agonisingly slow. Sam’s head rolled to the side and finally back up to watch Dean’s face as his thumb moved to travel over the head, and the slit, eliciting a shiver which Dean felt around his own cock.
"Sam." Dean looked into his eyes serious suddenly. "This isn’t working."
Sam swore a part of him shattered inside as Dean pulled him up and off, vacating his cock, leaving Home. But then a flash of a smirk flew across his face and in an act that should surely not be as easy as Dean made it appear, he’d flipped them around, Sam now underneath, with a pillow being adjusted beneath his hips.
Dean looked down at Sam whose eyes were still wide in surprise. "That’s better."
He smoothed his hands over Sam’s soft chest and slowly pushed his way back inside with a grown. This time carefully watched his brother’s face to ensure he hadn’t caused any damage with the earlier thrust inside. He saw nothing but pleasure on Sam’s face at feeling his protector inside him and he paused, leaning down to take Sam’s mouth with his own. He shook his head once. "You have no idea how good it feels to be inside you."
Dean looked down into glazed eyes and read it as a sign to start moving again. He pulled out and pushed in, adjusting to this new angle, before increasing his speed. He angled his hips to reach different places inside him and started to coo to Sam.
"You feel so tight." Thrust.
"Need to feel you ’round me." Thrust.
"Been too long." Thrust.
"Gotta have my cock deep inside you." Thrust.
"Wanna fill you." Thrust.
"Need to make you come." Thrust.
He wrapped his hand around Sam’s own cock.
"Need you to need me." Thrust.
"Need you to want me." Thrust.
"Need to know you’re not gonna leave me." THRUST!
Dean was almost sobbing now.
"Don’t you ever leave me!" THRUST!
Dean was panting, and no longer had enough breath to speak and jerked Sam off to the rhythm inside his arse.
Dean felt Sam’s muscles tighten around him and he pushed as deep and as hard as their bodies would allow, milking Sam’s shaft brutally. The tight friction pushing him to his own release as hot, sticky come spilled over hand and chest and both let out screams of passion as he shot his load deep into Sam. Rocking and thrusting and tugging until both were spent.
Dean lay his head on Sam’s chest as Sam’s hand curled its way into the short hair at the back of his head. Dean’s hands clutched at Sam’s sides like he never planned to ever let go, and Sam was ok with that. His cock was still between their stomaches and his load now sticky on both their chests. Dean was still buried deep in his brother, but for the moment all he wanted was to know they were together.
Countless minutes passed until Sam realised their breathing had slowed down and they were starting to drift off to sleep. Slowly he rolled them onto their sides and Dean’s hand curled around to grip his back. But carefully he pulled away feeling Dean’s now limp cock slide from inside him. Dean let out a mournful whimper before Sam lay I kiss on his lips and pulling away to the edge of the bed.
Feeling a dribbling of liquid between his legs he smiled in satisfaction. Then he moved off the bed and padded to the bathroom, feeling his brother’s gaze on his back.
"Where you goin’?" Came a drowsy complaint from the bed. The response, a towel thrown from the bathroom.
A few minutes later, the toilet flushed and Sam returned. He ducked the towel aimed at his head and he walked over to his bad and dug out a clean pair of boxers.
"I can’t believe you were watching Oprah." This time a pillow hit him in the back as he leant down to pull on the shorts.
He turned around to find Dean under the covers of Sam’s bed. Rolling his eyes he made his way across the room. "Aww, what’s wrong, Dean? Didn’t want to sleep in your bed?"
"It’s wet." Dean deadpanned. He lifted the covers to allow room in front of him while Sam laughed. "You getting in or what?"
He climbed in and curled onto his side, shifting until his back was pressed against Dean’s front. "How you doin’ in that head of yours?"
"Pillow talk can wait ‘til morning." Dean draped his right arm over Sam’s side, resting against his chest. "Shut up and go to sleep."
Sam snuggled back, finding his home, safe in his older brother’s embrace. Satisfied he would survive in that closed-up head, at least for one more day.
A/N: So… Feedback? Please? *begs* I clearly need it! *nods* PLEASE!!!!