Brotherly Love Ch. 9
"I...I just feel like I should apologize again..."
"No, that's okay. Really. I get it."
"I am so, so sorry for what I-"
"Uh-huh," I said wearily, cutting Sarah off before she could get any further as I pitched my bag into the backseat of the Impala. Slamming the door, I turned to look at her, folding my arms across my chest. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a low-cut T-shirt that didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination. She was twisting her hands together, standing with her shoulders hunched and her feet together, and she was chewing nervously on her lower lip. I mentally sighed.
"Okay, look," I started reluctantly, putting a hand on her shoulder. Which I started to regret when she blinked up at me in wonder. "You screwed up, yeah. Big time. But we fixed it and we're all gonna be okay. So...you can't beat yourself up over it. All right?"
Sarah sighed, and looked down at her hands. "...all right." She glanced back up at me. "But, Dean, I really am sorry for everything...I swear, if I had known Sam was your brother-"
"Yeah, okay." I patted her on the shoulder, not really paying attention. To be honest, all I could focus on right now was getting the hell out of here."
Sam walked past us, one strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder. I watched as he set it down in the backseat, handling it a lot gentler than I had my duffel bag so that he wouldn't break his laptop, but he didn't look at me. He glanced at Sarah over the top of the car, doing a pretty good job of hiding the dislike he had to be feeling, as he yanked open the door on the passenger side.
"You do realize that this isn't a permanent solution, right?" he asked her. "We exorcised the demon, but she will make it back from Hell eventually. You need more help than we can give you, unfortunately."
"I know," Sarah replied, nodding jerkily. "Thanks so much for what you've done, though. You didn't have to, especially after what I did...but you really helped me." She looked from him to me and back again, eyes wide. "You knew exactly what to do, too. What are you guys, like...some sort of demon hunters?"
I glanced at Sam, who raised his eyebrows, then shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and just looked at Sarah. "You've led a very sheltered life, haven't you?"
She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing." I shook my head, then looked over at my brother and tapped the roof of the car. "C'mon, Sam, let's hit the road. This place makes my skin crawl."
He nodded and ducked inside. I pulled open my door and prepared to mirror him, but Sarah touched my arm. I paused and looked at her.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you'll ever come back here?" she asked. Her expression was hopeful.
It took me a second to respond to that. I shook my head. "No. No, I really don't."
"I guess that was a stupid question." She smiled shyly.
"Kind of," I agreed.
"Um, Dean, for the record..." Sarah looked away, but her smile got a lot wider. "...you looked really good with a belly." She glanced back at me, making eye contact that I felt a little uncomfortable about. "And you and Sam make a cute couple."
There was just really no way for me to respond to something like that. I'd never had to deal with someone telling me that my brother and I looked good together. So I just stood there like an idiot for a couple seconds, mouth slightly open, before nodding abruptly and dryly saying, "Thanks, Sarah."
"'Bye, Dean." She flashed me a quick smile as I climbed into the car. I didn't waste any time at all starting the engine and pulling out.
"Crazy," I muttered under my breath.
"I dunno, I kinda liked her," Sam said. I glanced over at him, but he was just staring straight ahead, smiling a little. I rolled my eyes.
Neither of us said anything for about half an hour, not until we were well out of Berington. I kept shifting in my seat as I drove. I'd chosen to skip breakfast that morning, but my jeans were still a little snug around my waist. I'd probably picked up a couple of pounds from whatever that demon chick'd fed me, but it didn't really bother me so long as my pants still basically fit. I knew that Sam had his unbuttoned and unzipped to accommodate the little gut he had now, and his shirt was pulled low to hide that. Before I could stop myself, I thought about reaching over and poking him in that gut, teasing him about it, seeing him start to blush, letting the teasing turn into dirty talk...but I scowled fiercely and shut my eyes for a second to get rid of that image. No. I was done with that. And Sam would lose the extra weight fast, with how physically demanding our job was and how he usually ate.
Speaking of Sam, he suddenly jerked me out of my thoughts with a loud, drawn-out sigh. I looked over at him, and he made eye contact with me without hesitating.
"So," he began.
"So?" I prompted.
"When are we gonna talk about this?" he asked. I immediately turned my attention back to the road.
"Never."
"Dean-"
"We are never going to talk about this," I growled, interrupting him. "We're not gonna mention it, we're not gonna tell anyone what happened back there, we're just gonna forget about it. And if you ever bring it up again-ever-then I will break bones. Important ones."
"Dean..." Sam tried again.
"You know I can!"
"Dean." He pushed a hand up through his hair. "Okay. Pull over."
"What? No!"
"You-you always do this!" He sounded frustrated. "You ignore me, and you ignore what's wrong with you, and you just keep going until you obviously can't handle it anymore and you're on the brink of getting yourself or me or both of us killed! So-here, Dean, I have an idea. How about we actually address the problem right now before it festers into something I can't help you with?"
"I..." I started to say something, probably something that would really make me sound like an asshole and piss him off even more, but, suddenly, I had to look at him. So I tore my eyes off the road and turned to him. Shaggy, dark-brown hair, falling into his green eyes, which were currently furious and focused right on me. Prominent cheekbones and full lips. Broad shoulders, long legs, a lean, muscular build broken only by the bulge of fat at his stomach and the softness in his chest-mostly hidden by his shirt. I couldn't hold back the sudden, brutal wave of love and wanting that hit me somewhere right behind the sternum.
Against every higher function, most of which still understood that Sam was my brother and therefore just about as off-limits as he could be, I pulled over and killed the engine.
Sam didn't say anything for a minute, even when I sat back and waited silently, still looking at him. I think he was a little shocked that I'd actually done what he wanted me to. Or maybe he just hadn't expected to get this far.
"Thank you," he said quietly, finally. "Are you going to listen to me?"
"Sure. Just so long as I can stop thinking about how much I wanna kiss you right now," I replied immediately, before my brain and my mouth could get together and talk about the consequences of saying exactly what was on my mind.
That shocked him. I could see it. I fought my way past the inevitable "oh-Jesus-did-I-really-just-say-that-out-loud" horror and opened my mouth to take it back and make things as okay as they ever could be. Which wasn't much, but still, I could try. Sam started talking before I could, though. And I figured I owed him enough to let him finish.
"I thought-" he started, then paused. Probably getting his thoughts in order so he wouldn't make the same mistake I had. "We're not cursed anymore.
"No, but apparently my head's still screwed all to hell." I paused. "More than normal, I mean."
Sam turned away from me, staring out the windshield. I was sure that I'd messed up more completely than I ever had before, killed whatever trust was still between us, made him afraid of me. And that hurt like a kick to the jewels, an ache that went all the way up inside and throbbed without any sign of ever leaving. I started talking, not really sure what else to do.
"I'm sorry, I have no idea what's wrong with me," I began. "I understand if you want to leave for awhile. I would, too, I mean, if you started hitting on me it'd freak the crap out of me and my first instinct would be to take off running in the other direction, and I'm not gay, but, Goddammit, Sammy, I can't stop thinking about you and you look so freaking attractive to me right now and I hate myself for it but-"
"Dean." He interrupted me, and reached over to run a hand over my hair, his hand stopping at the back of my head. "It's okay. Stop freaking out."
"That's kind of a tall order, considering that right now I wanna-"
"Listen to me for five minutes. Do you think you can do that?"
I nodded, suddenly aware of how he was touching me, how he was looking at me. God, this was wrong, this was so messed up, I wanted this more than anything.
"I can tell I'm not cursed anymore," he said. "I can't feel anything messing with my head. I'm not having trouble thinking what I want to. So everything I feel right now must be entirely me."
"What are you talking about?"
"I think...I feel something for you I probably shouldn't," he admitted reluctantly. "I want stuff I probably shouldn't. I don't care that you're my brother, I don't care that you're a guy, I don't even care that I've gained weight. I just...I want to keep doing what we've been doing, without something supernatural making us."
I stared at him, blood starting to pump downwards, brain still trying to catch up with what my body had already pretty much accepted. "You-you're sure?"
Instead of answering me, he tugged me towards him, and kissed me. He was gentle, he didn't push, and after about ten seconds of that, I decided that I'd better take over. I pulled him hard against me, not caring that we were in a car and there was a center console between us. He shifted, trying to accommodate me, but I didn't make it easy for him. I was too busy moving my mouth against his, and pulling his shirt up, and grabbing at his belly. He hadn't eaten this morning, either, and that frustrated me, especially because he was still so small. Relatively speaking.
Sam moaned a little as I touched him, and that got rid of any reservations I still had. He was holding me against him, fingertips digging into the muscle of my back whenever I did something that felt particularly good. I kneaded and massaged the extra flesh on his stomach, which had been perfectly flat a week ago, and moved my hands to the small rolls beginning to form above the ridges of his hips. Meanwhile, his hands ran all over me, pressing so hard that I could feel the calluses on his hands through my shirt. Back, chest, hips-he just seemed eager to explore every inch of me. And that was definitely an endeavor I supported. I pushed myself up a little, so I could be closer to him, kneeling uncomfortably on the seat. I gasped roughly against his mouth when he took advantage of that new position and grabbed my ass.
Just for a second, I thought about telling him to slow down. Because we were related, and this was our first time doing this without demon-magic shoving us at each other, and I wasn't quite sure how I felt about his hands being where they were. But that didn't last long. I kissed him as hard as I could, traced the curves of his chest with my fingertips, and felt my hips twitch forward in instinctual reaction.
Sam broke the kiss to gasp, "I've seen you with a million different women, and I never-oh, God, Dean!-knew you could do this."
"Yeah, well, none of them had this," I replied, taking a handful of his belly. "You're getting fat, Sammy, might wanna start watching what you eat."
"Yeah, I bet you'd like that, if I admitted defeat, started trying to lose weight-then you could break me, push fattening food at me, convince me to eat instead of going out and exercising-"
"I don't have to 'convince' you to do anything, Sam," I answered, brushing my lips against his collarbone. "You'll eat whatever I give you until you can't move because you want to, because you like it. That's what you want from me, right? You want me to feed you?"
"Yes. God, yes." Sam tugged at me. "Come here."
I pressed myself against him, as best I could in the cramped confines of the Impala. Best car I ever owned, but she definitely wasn't built to accommodate the passions of a couple good-sized guys.
"You're gonna have to start eating more," I growled into his chest. "I want you stuffed after every single meal, and eating in between, and begging me to touch you."
"Okay," Sam panted. "Okay. Dean-" He hesitated, then looked at me, pulling back for a second. "D'you think we can do this? I mean...you don't have the best track record when it comes to relationships-"
So he thought I'd take off and leave him, or lose interest. I guess I couldn't blame him, considering how many women he'd seen me drop once I got what I wanted from them. I couldn't get out the right words to tell him that this felt more real, more solid, brighter and hotter and stronger than anything I'd messed with before. I wasn't too articulate about these things at the best of times, and right now, with passion and lust pulsing red in my brain, unable to think about anything but the softness under my hands and the spots below my waist that were currently throbbing with need, there was just no way I could explain why he didn't have to worry. Not if I wanted to make sense, anyway. Maybe I could show him.
Sam proved himself to be pretty vocal about pleasure when I pushed him down into his seat, moaning and whining and gasping out my name as I ground my hips into his stomach. I was on top of him, our torsos on the passenger side, our pelvises locking against each other on the center console, our legs tangled and bent and cramped on the driver's side. It sure as hell wasn't comfortable, but at this point, I really couldn't have cared less. I was focused on the sounds he was making, the bony ridges and muscles of my body sinking into the newly-soft parts of his, and his arms getting tighter and tighter around me. One hand was on the back of my head, pressing my face into his neck, and the other was just south of the small of my back, fingertips digging into all the right places.
"Dean, Dean, Dean..." He said my name over and over again, between gasps and cries of pure pleasure, his voice as fervent as if it were an exorcism ritual. I couldn't get over the passion I could hear, the desperate need, the...well, I guess there's no other word for it but wonder. No idea where that came from. Honestly, it seemed a little out of place.
Sam panted heavily, right next to my ear, until I locked my against his again and felt him move against me. I lifted my hips so that I could brush a hand over his bare stomach and feel the slight jiggle. I imagined that same stomach taut and huge and swollen with food, Sam groaning in discomfort, my hands on him and working to soothe the pain so he could eat just a little more. I shuddered against him, and broke the kiss just long enough to rasp, "You'd better get used to having a full belly, 'cause I'm gonna make sure you're never hungry again."
Then it was Sam's turn to pull back, only for a few seconds, to whisper, "Just when is this gonna start?"
As if on cue, his stomach growled, and I smiled against his mouth, realizing just how much he'd be able to eat for me because that demon had nudged me into stuffing him so full and so often.
"In a minute," I muttered. "Wanna finish this first."
Were we really gonna do this? In a car (oh, God, my car-if I'd still been capable of worrying about stuff like that, I might have flipped out over our imminent defiling of the poor Impala) like a couple of horny teenagers? Well, apparently, the answer was yes, because he showed no sign of letting go of me and I sure as hell wasn't releasing my grip on him. If anything, it was getting tighter.
"Dean." Sam's voice was strained with pleasure.
"Uh-huh?" I really didn't mind him talking, just so long as he kept his legs wrapped around mine and his body moving like it was.
"Why-ohh..." He trailed off into a moan, and had to start again. "Why'd you take me to that place? If you only started feeling like this about me while we were there?"
I had to hesitate. Partly so I could haul my coherent thoughts out of the sea of hormones and lust they were happily drowning in, partly so I could figure out if I was going to lie to him or not. In the end, I decided not to. It always seemed to come back and bite me in the ass when I lied to Sam.
"Wanted you safe, Sammy," I murmured. "In retrospect...probably not the greatest way to do that."
And I had screwed it up royally. Dad had told me to look after Sammy, and here I was, all but doing him in the car that he'd also trusted me to look after-and fantasizing about him overeating and gaining weight. He was in more danger than ever with me as his...whatever...and this new kink driving him. It was my fault. I'd hurt him, done something to him, and he was going to-
Sam derailed that thought by pulling me even closer, holding me even tighter. I closed my eyes tight, ashamed of what I was feeling and what I'd done.
"You were really that desperate to protect me?" he asked quietly.
"I guess I was."
"I can look after myself, you know."
"I guess you can."
"All in all, though..." He kissed me again, gently, in the way I'd started to realize was all him, and that somehow made almost everything okay for a second. "...probably the best mistake you ever made."
And after that, there was him, and me, and it felt right enough that I forgot about feeling guilty, about my duty to Sam and Dad and everyone else. He was mine because he wanted to be. He was giving himself to me out of his own free will, and there was no magic behind his lust this time. Or mine. It was just...us.
Now, I wasn't an idiot. Now that there wasn't a curse making him docile, we'd lock horns, butt heads, whatever you wanted to call it, we'd fight. Because that was kinda what we did. But I knew that'd be outweighed by this new thing between us, and Sam looking up at me eagerly as I fed him, and the feeling of those big hands of his on my bare skin. Sometimes, I'd even let him have the upper hand, make some decisions for himself, depend on his amazing ability to predict what was right for him.
Because he was my brother. And if he couldn't be safe, at least I could make him happy.
"No, that's okay. Really. I get it."
"I am so, so sorry for what I-"
"Uh-huh," I said wearily, cutting Sarah off before she could get any further as I pitched my bag into the backseat of the Impala. Slamming the door, I turned to look at her, folding my arms across my chest. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a low-cut T-shirt that didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination. She was twisting her hands together, standing with her shoulders hunched and her feet together, and she was chewing nervously on her lower lip. I mentally sighed.
"Okay, look," I started reluctantly, putting a hand on her shoulder. Which I started to regret when she blinked up at me in wonder. "You screwed up, yeah. Big time. But we fixed it and we're all gonna be okay. So...you can't beat yourself up over it. All right?"
Sarah sighed, and looked down at her hands. "...all right." She glanced back up at me. "But, Dean, I really am sorry for everything...I swear, if I had known Sam was your brother-"
"Yeah, okay." I patted her on the shoulder, not really paying attention. To be honest, all I could focus on right now was getting the hell out of here."
Sam walked past us, one strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder. I watched as he set it down in the backseat, handling it a lot gentler than I had my duffel bag so that he wouldn't break his laptop, but he didn't look at me. He glanced at Sarah over the top of the car, doing a pretty good job of hiding the dislike he had to be feeling, as he yanked open the door on the passenger side.
"You do realize that this isn't a permanent solution, right?" he asked her. "We exorcised the demon, but she will make it back from Hell eventually. You need more help than we can give you, unfortunately."
"I know," Sarah replied, nodding jerkily. "Thanks so much for what you've done, though. You didn't have to, especially after what I did...but you really helped me." She looked from him to me and back again, eyes wide. "You knew exactly what to do, too. What are you guys, like...some sort of demon hunters?"
I glanced at Sam, who raised his eyebrows, then shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and just looked at Sarah. "You've led a very sheltered life, haven't you?"
She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing." I shook my head, then looked over at my brother and tapped the roof of the car. "C'mon, Sam, let's hit the road. This place makes my skin crawl."
He nodded and ducked inside. I pulled open my door and prepared to mirror him, but Sarah touched my arm. I paused and looked at her.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you'll ever come back here?" she asked. Her expression was hopeful.
It took me a second to respond to that. I shook my head. "No. No, I really don't."
"I guess that was a stupid question." She smiled shyly.
"Kind of," I agreed.
"Um, Dean, for the record..." Sarah looked away, but her smile got a lot wider. "...you looked really good with a belly." She glanced back at me, making eye contact that I felt a little uncomfortable about. "And you and Sam make a cute couple."
There was just really no way for me to respond to something like that. I'd never had to deal with someone telling me that my brother and I looked good together. So I just stood there like an idiot for a couple seconds, mouth slightly open, before nodding abruptly and dryly saying, "Thanks, Sarah."
"'Bye, Dean." She flashed me a quick smile as I climbed into the car. I didn't waste any time at all starting the engine and pulling out.
"Crazy," I muttered under my breath.
"I dunno, I kinda liked her," Sam said. I glanced over at him, but he was just staring straight ahead, smiling a little. I rolled my eyes.
Neither of us said anything for about half an hour, not until we were well out of Berington. I kept shifting in my seat as I drove. I'd chosen to skip breakfast that morning, but my jeans were still a little snug around my waist. I'd probably picked up a couple of pounds from whatever that demon chick'd fed me, but it didn't really bother me so long as my pants still basically fit. I knew that Sam had his unbuttoned and unzipped to accommodate the little gut he had now, and his shirt was pulled low to hide that. Before I could stop myself, I thought about reaching over and poking him in that gut, teasing him about it, seeing him start to blush, letting the teasing turn into dirty talk...but I scowled fiercely and shut my eyes for a second to get rid of that image. No. I was done with that. And Sam would lose the extra weight fast, with how physically demanding our job was and how he usually ate.
Speaking of Sam, he suddenly jerked me out of my thoughts with a loud, drawn-out sigh. I looked over at him, and he made eye contact with me without hesitating.
"So," he began.
"So?" I prompted.
"When are we gonna talk about this?" he asked. I immediately turned my attention back to the road.
"Never."
"Dean-"
"We are never going to talk about this," I growled, interrupting him. "We're not gonna mention it, we're not gonna tell anyone what happened back there, we're just gonna forget about it. And if you ever bring it up again-ever-then I will break bones. Important ones."
"Dean..." Sam tried again.
"You know I can!"
"Dean." He pushed a hand up through his hair. "Okay. Pull over."
"What? No!"
"You-you always do this!" He sounded frustrated. "You ignore me, and you ignore what's wrong with you, and you just keep going until you obviously can't handle it anymore and you're on the brink of getting yourself or me or both of us killed! So-here, Dean, I have an idea. How about we actually address the problem right now before it festers into something I can't help you with?"
"I..." I started to say something, probably something that would really make me sound like an asshole and piss him off even more, but, suddenly, I had to look at him. So I tore my eyes off the road and turned to him. Shaggy, dark-brown hair, falling into his green eyes, which were currently furious and focused right on me. Prominent cheekbones and full lips. Broad shoulders, long legs, a lean, muscular build broken only by the bulge of fat at his stomach and the softness in his chest-mostly hidden by his shirt. I couldn't hold back the sudden, brutal wave of love and wanting that hit me somewhere right behind the sternum.
Against every higher function, most of which still understood that Sam was my brother and therefore just about as off-limits as he could be, I pulled over and killed the engine.
Sam didn't say anything for a minute, even when I sat back and waited silently, still looking at him. I think he was a little shocked that I'd actually done what he wanted me to. Or maybe he just hadn't expected to get this far.
"Thank you," he said quietly, finally. "Are you going to listen to me?"
"Sure. Just so long as I can stop thinking about how much I wanna kiss you right now," I replied immediately, before my brain and my mouth could get together and talk about the consequences of saying exactly what was on my mind.
That shocked him. I could see it. I fought my way past the inevitable "oh-Jesus-did-I-really-just-say-that-out-loud" horror and opened my mouth to take it back and make things as okay as they ever could be. Which wasn't much, but still, I could try. Sam started talking before I could, though. And I figured I owed him enough to let him finish.
"I thought-" he started, then paused. Probably getting his thoughts in order so he wouldn't make the same mistake I had. "We're not cursed anymore.
"No, but apparently my head's still screwed all to hell." I paused. "More than normal, I mean."
Sam turned away from me, staring out the windshield. I was sure that I'd messed up more completely than I ever had before, killed whatever trust was still between us, made him afraid of me. And that hurt like a kick to the jewels, an ache that went all the way up inside and throbbed without any sign of ever leaving. I started talking, not really sure what else to do.
"I'm sorry, I have no idea what's wrong with me," I began. "I understand if you want to leave for awhile. I would, too, I mean, if you started hitting on me it'd freak the crap out of me and my first instinct would be to take off running in the other direction, and I'm not gay, but, Goddammit, Sammy, I can't stop thinking about you and you look so freaking attractive to me right now and I hate myself for it but-"
"Dean." He interrupted me, and reached over to run a hand over my hair, his hand stopping at the back of my head. "It's okay. Stop freaking out."
"That's kind of a tall order, considering that right now I wanna-"
"Listen to me for five minutes. Do you think you can do that?"
I nodded, suddenly aware of how he was touching me, how he was looking at me. God, this was wrong, this was so messed up, I wanted this more than anything.
"I can tell I'm not cursed anymore," he said. "I can't feel anything messing with my head. I'm not having trouble thinking what I want to. So everything I feel right now must be entirely me."
"What are you talking about?"
"I think...I feel something for you I probably shouldn't," he admitted reluctantly. "I want stuff I probably shouldn't. I don't care that you're my brother, I don't care that you're a guy, I don't even care that I've gained weight. I just...I want to keep doing what we've been doing, without something supernatural making us."
I stared at him, blood starting to pump downwards, brain still trying to catch up with what my body had already pretty much accepted. "You-you're sure?"
Instead of answering me, he tugged me towards him, and kissed me. He was gentle, he didn't push, and after about ten seconds of that, I decided that I'd better take over. I pulled him hard against me, not caring that we were in a car and there was a center console between us. He shifted, trying to accommodate me, but I didn't make it easy for him. I was too busy moving my mouth against his, and pulling his shirt up, and grabbing at his belly. He hadn't eaten this morning, either, and that frustrated me, especially because he was still so small. Relatively speaking.
Sam moaned a little as I touched him, and that got rid of any reservations I still had. He was holding me against him, fingertips digging into the muscle of my back whenever I did something that felt particularly good. I kneaded and massaged the extra flesh on his stomach, which had been perfectly flat a week ago, and moved my hands to the small rolls beginning to form above the ridges of his hips. Meanwhile, his hands ran all over me, pressing so hard that I could feel the calluses on his hands through my shirt. Back, chest, hips-he just seemed eager to explore every inch of me. And that was definitely an endeavor I supported. I pushed myself up a little, so I could be closer to him, kneeling uncomfortably on the seat. I gasped roughly against his mouth when he took advantage of that new position and grabbed my ass.
Just for a second, I thought about telling him to slow down. Because we were related, and this was our first time doing this without demon-magic shoving us at each other, and I wasn't quite sure how I felt about his hands being where they were. But that didn't last long. I kissed him as hard as I could, traced the curves of his chest with my fingertips, and felt my hips twitch forward in instinctual reaction.
Sam broke the kiss to gasp, "I've seen you with a million different women, and I never-oh, God, Dean!-knew you could do this."
"Yeah, well, none of them had this," I replied, taking a handful of his belly. "You're getting fat, Sammy, might wanna start watching what you eat."
"Yeah, I bet you'd like that, if I admitted defeat, started trying to lose weight-then you could break me, push fattening food at me, convince me to eat instead of going out and exercising-"
"I don't have to 'convince' you to do anything, Sam," I answered, brushing my lips against his collarbone. "You'll eat whatever I give you until you can't move because you want to, because you like it. That's what you want from me, right? You want me to feed you?"
"Yes. God, yes." Sam tugged at me. "Come here."
I pressed myself against him, as best I could in the cramped confines of the Impala. Best car I ever owned, but she definitely wasn't built to accommodate the passions of a couple good-sized guys.
"You're gonna have to start eating more," I growled into his chest. "I want you stuffed after every single meal, and eating in between, and begging me to touch you."
"Okay," Sam panted. "Okay. Dean-" He hesitated, then looked at me, pulling back for a second. "D'you think we can do this? I mean...you don't have the best track record when it comes to relationships-"
So he thought I'd take off and leave him, or lose interest. I guess I couldn't blame him, considering how many women he'd seen me drop once I got what I wanted from them. I couldn't get out the right words to tell him that this felt more real, more solid, brighter and hotter and stronger than anything I'd messed with before. I wasn't too articulate about these things at the best of times, and right now, with passion and lust pulsing red in my brain, unable to think about anything but the softness under my hands and the spots below my waist that were currently throbbing with need, there was just no way I could explain why he didn't have to worry. Not if I wanted to make sense, anyway. Maybe I could show him.
Sam proved himself to be pretty vocal about pleasure when I pushed him down into his seat, moaning and whining and gasping out my name as I ground my hips into his stomach. I was on top of him, our torsos on the passenger side, our pelvises locking against each other on the center console, our legs tangled and bent and cramped on the driver's side. It sure as hell wasn't comfortable, but at this point, I really couldn't have cared less. I was focused on the sounds he was making, the bony ridges and muscles of my body sinking into the newly-soft parts of his, and his arms getting tighter and tighter around me. One hand was on the back of my head, pressing my face into his neck, and the other was just south of the small of my back, fingertips digging into all the right places.
"Dean, Dean, Dean..." He said my name over and over again, between gasps and cries of pure pleasure, his voice as fervent as if it were an exorcism ritual. I couldn't get over the passion I could hear, the desperate need, the...well, I guess there's no other word for it but wonder. No idea where that came from. Honestly, it seemed a little out of place.
Sam panted heavily, right next to my ear, until I locked my against his again and felt him move against me. I lifted my hips so that I could brush a hand over his bare stomach and feel the slight jiggle. I imagined that same stomach taut and huge and swollen with food, Sam groaning in discomfort, my hands on him and working to soothe the pain so he could eat just a little more. I shuddered against him, and broke the kiss just long enough to rasp, "You'd better get used to having a full belly, 'cause I'm gonna make sure you're never hungry again."
Then it was Sam's turn to pull back, only for a few seconds, to whisper, "Just when is this gonna start?"
As if on cue, his stomach growled, and I smiled against his mouth, realizing just how much he'd be able to eat for me because that demon had nudged me into stuffing him so full and so often.
"In a minute," I muttered. "Wanna finish this first."
Were we really gonna do this? In a car (oh, God, my car-if I'd still been capable of worrying about stuff like that, I might have flipped out over our imminent defiling of the poor Impala) like a couple of horny teenagers? Well, apparently, the answer was yes, because he showed no sign of letting go of me and I sure as hell wasn't releasing my grip on him. If anything, it was getting tighter.
"Dean." Sam's voice was strained with pleasure.
"Uh-huh?" I really didn't mind him talking, just so long as he kept his legs wrapped around mine and his body moving like it was.
"Why-ohh..." He trailed off into a moan, and had to start again. "Why'd you take me to that place? If you only started feeling like this about me while we were there?"
I had to hesitate. Partly so I could haul my coherent thoughts out of the sea of hormones and lust they were happily drowning in, partly so I could figure out if I was going to lie to him or not. In the end, I decided not to. It always seemed to come back and bite me in the ass when I lied to Sam.
"Wanted you safe, Sammy," I murmured. "In retrospect...probably not the greatest way to do that."
And I had screwed it up royally. Dad had told me to look after Sammy, and here I was, all but doing him in the car that he'd also trusted me to look after-and fantasizing about him overeating and gaining weight. He was in more danger than ever with me as his...whatever...and this new kink driving him. It was my fault. I'd hurt him, done something to him, and he was going to-
Sam derailed that thought by pulling me even closer, holding me even tighter. I closed my eyes tight, ashamed of what I was feeling and what I'd done.
"You were really that desperate to protect me?" he asked quietly.
"I guess I was."
"I can look after myself, you know."
"I guess you can."
"All in all, though..." He kissed me again, gently, in the way I'd started to realize was all him, and that somehow made almost everything okay for a second. "...probably the best mistake you ever made."
And after that, there was him, and me, and it felt right enough that I forgot about feeling guilty, about my duty to Sam and Dad and everyone else. He was mine because he wanted to be. He was giving himself to me out of his own free will, and there was no magic behind his lust this time. Or mine. It was just...us.
Now, I wasn't an idiot. Now that there wasn't a curse making him docile, we'd lock horns, butt heads, whatever you wanted to call it, we'd fight. Because that was kinda what we did. But I knew that'd be outweighed by this new thing between us, and Sam looking up at me eagerly as I fed him, and the feeling of those big hands of his on my bare skin. Sometimes, I'd even let him have the upper hand, make some decisions for himself, depend on his amazing ability to predict what was right for him.
Because he was my brother. And if he couldn't be safe, at least I could make him happy.