
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8706940.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Other(s), Sam_Winchester/Other(s)
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Original_Female_Character(s), Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Established_Relationship, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Pre-
      Canon, Season/Series_02
  Collections:
      Sinful_Desire
  Stats:
      Published: 2007-02-07 Words: 7888
****** Reassurance ******
by fpvs [archived by sinfuldesire_archivist]
Summary
     Set directly after Crossroad Blues. Sam sees Dean angsting and takes
     it upon himself to make him better.
Notes
     Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally
     archived at Sinful-Desire.org. To preserve the archive, we began
     importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in
     November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted
     announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or
     know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on
     Sinful_Desire_collection_profile.

Author's notes: 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 yesâ€¦ I know the ending is a little dodgyâ€¦ But let me have it??
First fic and all! *nods*). MASSIVE thankyou to Amanda for Beta'ing and helping
kick me in the right direction with some serious re-writes at the start of this
fic. And to Jenn... 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!!!!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
