(no subject)
Title: The Other Times
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam, Sam/OFC, Sam/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wincest, Underage (Sam's 16), Voyeurism, Dirty Talk
Word Count: ~ 5600
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Dean realizes that Sam is growing up (among other things)when he accidentally sees his little brother in a few compromising positions.
Author Notes: One shot in the Brain Verse. Comes first chronologically, but it is not necessary to read the other stories. Un-betaed.
There was a fundamental issue with being a primary care giver to a child. In between the wiped noses, potty training and tied shoe laces, you tended to miss them growing up. In the back of his mind, Dean knew that Sam was getting older, evolving. Sometimes Sam’s journey to adulthood was obvious - eyes that once looked up to Dean for answers, now looked right at him with a wisdom that only passing years could provide. Other times it came as a blinding revelation when Dean least expected it - walking into the bathroom one morning to find Sam gliding a razor over shaving cream covered cheeks. Dean hated the ‘other times’. They twisted his gut and stole his breath with a sudden awareness that Sam was no longer an innocent child of six, but a mature near-man of sixteen.
Even with the frequency with which Dean had been experiencing the ‘other times’ lately, he still wasn’t prepared for the most recent episode. Standing in the night darkened hallway of their single wide palace of the month, Dean was blind-sided by the realization that somewhere over the years, Sam had transformed from a painfully shy adolescent into a sexual creature.
Fucking cat!
Three days this week Dean’d gone out and found red-brown paw prints tracked over the windshield and hood of his beloved baby. Then when he got home, the smug little bastard had the audacity to be curled up asleep on the front porch. With vicious glee, he chased it around the back of the house, shouting promises of every form of torture and death imaginable, and into the neighbor’s yard. Self-consciously aware of the blackmail material his little chase provided, Dean’s eyes flashed to the windows of the trailer to see if his brother was watching. The house was dark, except for a small patch of golden light accompanied by a flickering blue-white light behind the sheet tacked over the windows in the living room. No pulled back curtain, no amused hazel eyes. Sam was apparently oblivious to Dean’s antics outside. Dean chuckled at the predictability and knew he’d find Sam splayed on the couch, face buried in a book with the television providing background noise.
Huffing a sigh, Dean walked up the rickety metal stairs and hoped the key to the front door also worked on the back. He stepped over the salt line into the hallway leading from the main part of the house to the bedroom and bathroom that he and Sam shared. Pulling the door shut, he stopped briefly in their bedroom to kick off his boots before padding across the worn carpeting toward the kitchen. The shag was the original laid when the trailer was manufactured and thanks to the long fibers, still cushioned his footsteps even after years of repeated traffic. A mischievous smile curled his lips as thoughts of sneaking up on Sam.
Let’s see how good little brother’s hunter instincts are.
Dean stopped at the end of the hallway, concealed in the darkness, to see if Sam was in fact on the couch so he could plan his attack. His head snapped back and his breath left him in a rush. Sam was on the couch alright, but his face wasn’t buried in a book. No, Dean’s baby brother had his face buried between the creamy thighs of a brunette.
He stood stunned, fascinated at the pornographic symphony created by the wet sounds of Sam pleasuring the girl mixed with her breathy gasps. Smooth legs were draped over muscled forearms and Dean could see Sam’s long fingers curled over slender hips, limiting her desperate writhing. Sam’s right hand relinquished its grip and glided over her tanned skin, fingertips tickling a path from her hip to the wetness at her center. He lifted his head, affording Dean a peek, as nimble digits petted and separated glistening folds, trailing lower until one dipped teasingly into the wet heat before sinking all the way in. The girl arched her back, head curling over the arm of the couch it was resting on, and her small hands cupped her breasts, squeezing. Sam lowered his mouth again, nodding head blocking Dean’s view, and she jolted, a strangled scream piercing the air. Sam continued his ministrations, riding the bucking of the body beneath him, and pulled mewls and whimpers from rose tinted lips.
It was a sexual train wreck and Dean couldn’t look away. Even with the poor angle, only able to see the girl’s enraptured face and Sam’s rippling back, it was better than any porn Dean had ever watched. His hand flew to his crotch to push against his hardened cock and he bit his lip to keep down the groan threatening to escape, eyes closing as heat coiled in low in his belly.
“Sam. Sam,” the girl gasped, bringing Dean’s attention to the show in front on him.
“Yes, Megan.” Sam lapped at her, a smug smile firmly in place, wrist twisting and thrusting between her spread legs as she ground herself down.
“Fuck,” Megan keened when Sam pushed in deep. She grabbed his upper arms and pulled Sam up her body, lips pressing in a sloppy kiss. “Get your fucking pants off.” Her hands disappeared between them and Dean could hear Sam’s belt and zipper being undone. Sam’s hand moved to his back pocket, three fingers shining with her juices in the dim lamplight, and retrieved a foil packet then shimmied the denim down his long legs.
Dean turned from the sight, back pressed to the wall, breath panting over bite-plumped lips. He snatched at his jeans until he felt the fly give and the pressure on his engorged member lessen. Closing his eyes tightly and wrapping a firm grip around himself, Dean listened to the sounds coming from the living room.
A gasp and a moan as Sam breached her. The squeak of couch springs underneath breathless pleas for ‘more’ interspersed with curses as Sam pistoned into her. Behind the darkness of his eyelids, Dean’s mind supplied a visual to the soundtrack coming from the other room. He stroked his cock in time to the couch’s protests, bringing him to the edge embarrassingly fast. Realizing his imagination had replaced Megan with someone more masculine, more muscled and more brotherly, Dean exploded, mind whiting out at the intensity. Panting as he came down, a high-pitched squeal reminded Dean of what had fueled quite possibly the best orgasm of his life.
He rolled back toward the scene in the living room in time to see Megan wriggling under Sam like a worm on a hook. Sam thrust hard, her body spasming as her orgasm shook her small frame and she screamed his name to the stained ceiling. A few dozen pumps later, Sam’s body stilled and he grunted, the first noise he’d made since entering her, as his back and buttocks tensed at his own release.
Dean forced his body to move back to the bedroom where he snatched his boots and silently went out the back door. After slamming his feet into shoes, he stumbled around the house, tripping periodically on his untied laces. He wrenched open the driver’s side door of the Impala and dug under the seat for the pack of cigarettes he’d secreted away there. It was the first pack he’d ever bought, almost two years ago, and it was still half-full. He only smoked in times of extreme stress which in their line of work usually meant a near-death scare, but he felt this situation qualified. Leaning against the hood of the car, he lit up and pulled in a deep lungful of gaseous death while he mulled over his current predicament.
Okay, so the fact of the matter was I might or might not want to fuck my brother. Feeling his dick twitch at the memory of Sam cumming in Megan, he decided to be honest with himself. The fact of the matter was I want to fuck my brother…badly.
Exhaling a stream of smoke out the corner of his mouth, he stiffened at the sound of the front door opening. Sam stood on the porch with Megan and kissed her good night. Looking side to side, Dean wondered how she got here. They were a few miles outside of town and the Impala was the only car in the driveway. She dopily staggered down the steps and headed off in the direction of the neighboring house.
Ah…the girl next door.
He sniggered at the thought clueing Sam into his presence. Sam quirked an eyebrow at the lit cigarette in Dean’s hand and in return Dean quirked an eyebrow at the retreating back of the girl. They both shrugged and Sam spun to go back in the house.
It didn’t matter what Dean wanted. Sam was apparently into girls and you know the whole brother thing. Dean would just do what he’d always done. Repress. He’d just bury this thing with Sam and forget about it. Yeah, that’s it.
Repression is a wonderful thing, until it stops working. Dean lived in blessed denial for three weeks then came another of those ‘other times’ - the night that he came home to a strange car parked in front of the house. Immediately suspicious, Dean leaned over and pulled a gun from the glove box and, after checking it was loaded, quietly exited the car. Creeping up the stairs to the front porch, he peered through the space between the sheet and the window casing to see inside.
Sam was seated on the couch just like every other night - except one that Dean refused to think about - school books piled high on the coffee table. Dean would have thought Sam was studying if it wasn’t for the blonde man kneeling between his brother’s spread legs.
Well, hell. There went Dean’s fervent belief that Sam only liked girls.
All Dean could see around the coffee table was the guy’s muscular shoulders and a head of blonde hair above and Sam’s jeans pooling on the floor around one of the ankles bracketing the guys knees below. The rhythmic bobbing of the blonde head quickened and Sam dropped his head back on the sofa cushion, mouth open in a silent moan. Shifting positions, the guy turned his face and Dean could see Sam’s dick sliding in and out of blondie’s mouth, distending the skin of his cheek with its girth. Sam’s hand came up and cupped his jaw, thumb pressing against the bulge he’d created. Those hands slid behind blondie’s head and held him as Sam bucked up hard. The guy made a choking sound and Sam pushed him back, away from his swollen member.
Sam leaned forward, tugging on blondie’s collar until their lips were only millimeters apart. “With that mouth, I’da thought you’d be a better cocksucker. That’s okay. You’ve got more than one place I can fill. Since you can’t take it down your throat, you think you can take it up your ass? Hmmm, Jeff? Think you can handle me shoving into your hot, tight hole? Stretching you around me, filling you so full? ” Sam growled, voice like honeyed whiskey, and fingers curling under his jaw. Jeff whimpered, fucking whimpered, and Dean felt an echo bubble up his throat.
Jesus! Where did Sam learn to talk like that? Christ, the kid was only sixteen.
Once again he couldn’t look away. Sam‘s fingers ghosted down Jeff’s back and fisted in the hem of his shirt, yanking the soft cotton up and off. Sam reached up and behind, grabbing the neckline of his shirt near the tag and pulled the fabric up in a fluid movement. Dean gasped at the exposed expanse of Sam’s chest, amazed at the sculpted muscles his little brother had been concealing under baggy clothes.
Jeff lunged forward capturing Sam’s lips in a hard kiss, groaning at the touch of their bare skin. Sam pushed him off roughly, snarling, “Pants off, now!”
Jeff lurched to his feet, fingers frantically working over button and zipper to shed his jeans. On the other side of the glass, Dean mirrored his motions to free his own aching cock as if Sam’s command had been for him. Hand sliding up and down desperately seeking relief, Dean watched Sam guide Jeff on the couch, positioning him on his knees with his forearms resting on the arm over a jacket draped there. Leaning down to snag his jeans, Sam came back with a small bottle of lube and a condom. Sam drizzled the clear liquid over his fingers and down Jeff’s crack. His free hand separated the rounded flesh and newly slickened digits followed the wet path to Jeff’s now exposed pucker.
Sam circled the furled muscle and Jeff writhed, cock bobbing uselessly in midair with each impotent gyration. Just as the blonde man whined, Sam pushed his finger past the resistance and into Jeff’s welcoming body. Barely allowing the man enough time to adjust to the intrusion, Sam added a second and in quick succession a third finger. Jeff’s initial grimace of pain morphed into an expression of ecstasy and a loud keen forced its way out when Sam thrust his fingers back in and swiveled his wrist.
Dean’s hole fluttered in envy and he shuddered at the desire gnawing at him. Never in his life had he wished to be someone other than who he was, but right now he wanted to be Jeff. Sam pulled his fingers out, wiping them on the skin before him, and deftly removed the condom from its wrapper, rolling the latex down his reddened length. Sam adjusted his stance and manipulated Jeff’s position, lining his rounded tip to the man’s entrance then pushed forward in one long slide. Dean’s stroking hand stilled, paralyzed at the sight of Sam sheathing himself in the body before him.
His eyes tracked Sam’s long, slow glides out and quick, brutal thrusts back in, hand mimicking the slide on his own shaft. Sam slid his hands under Jeff’s chest and curled them over his shoulders. He shifted on the next pass in, pulling Jeff up to sit on his lap, his back flush to Sam’s chest. Jeff’s eyes flew open and he cried out Sam’s name, thick ropes of cum streaking the wool of what Dean now realized was a letterman’s jacket. Sam’s hips hastened, pounding up into the dazed man, now little more than a warm, tight hole to be used. Sam grunted and Dean’s gaze lifted to his face, wanting to see him fall over the edge and knowing he would drag Dean with him. Sam’s eyes clenched shut, his mouth gaped open, and he pumped three more times before going rigid, buried deep in Jeff’s ass. Dean was so enraptured at the sheer bliss on Sam’s face that his own orgasm took him by surprise, the warmth on his hand startling him.
Gasping, overheated skin raising in gooseflesh from the cold night air, Dean tucked himself back into his jeans and nearly fell down the stairs. He crossed to the Impala and pressed his flushed face against the cool metal of the roof in hopes of gaining some semblance of control. Noise from the house had him rolling his head to see two shadows moving behind the curtain. It looked like Jeff was gathering his things to leave. Thinking quickly, Dean opened and slammed the car door to make it appear that he’d just gotten home and hoped Sam didn’t notice the absence of the engine’s roar. He took two steps toward the house and the front door opened to reveal Sam ushering Jeff out.
“Dean, you’re home. This is Jeff. I was helping him study.” Sam gestured to the blonde man and Dean noticed the football letter on his jacket. Motioning to Dean, Sam continued, “Jeff, this is my brother, Dean.”
Dean was struck momentarily dumb at the casualness in Sam’s tone. His little brother’s voice never indicating that five minutes ago, Sam had been fucking Jeff for all he was worth. Snapping to his senses, Dean stuck out his hand.
“Studying, huh?” Dean smirked when the boy blushed and shook his outstretched hand.
“Yeah. Just helping him sort through some confusion he was having on a particular subject.”
“Really? What subject?” Jeff looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but Sam answered without missing a beat.
“Health.”
“Oh, okay. Sammy get you all straightened out, Jeff? Clear up that confusion you were having?”
Dean actually bit the side of his cheek to keep from laughing when Jeff’s eyes went wide. He raised his eyebrows expectantly and finally Jeff stuttered over a ‘yes’.
“That’s good. Well, good night.” Smiling, he moved past Sam into the house.
The scent of sex was still faint in the air and the sheet over the windows behind the couch billowed in softly with the evening breeze. His smile faded as he took in the disheveled couch cushions. Twice now he’d seen Sam with someone on that couch and he’d gotten off on it both times. It was official, no one time misguided fantasy, Dean wanted his baby brother.
He was so screwed.
Dean spent the next hour trying his damnedest to not pay attention to Sam. It was really an act of futility and doomed from the start - like telling someone to not think of pink bumblebees or purple rhinos. What’s the first thing that would pop into their head? Pink bumblebees or purple rhinos.
When Sam twirled his pen over and under his knuckles, Dean flashed to those nimble fingers twisting in Megan and Jeff, wringing groans of pleasure from them. When Sam licked the pad of his index finger to flip the page of his textbook, Dean remembered him lapping at Megan’s pussy as she fucked herself down on his hand. When Sam slumped on the couch head lolled back, pinching the bridge of his nose, and legs wide, Dean saw Jeff kneeling between the open ‘v’ with his head bobbing on the swollen flesh at the focal point.
Finally, Sam closed his books and announced he was taking a shower before bed. Dean had never been so glad to be alone in his life, feeling like he could breathe properly now that Sam wasn’t in the room. He rubbed his tired eyes, thinking it was time for bed, and panic flared in his chest.
Bed…they shared a goddamned bed.
Cursing the universe that apparently hated him, he decided to hurry to bed while Sam was in the shower in the hopes he’d be asleep before Sam finished.
He quickly checked the salt lines and shut off the lights then practically sprinted down the hallway to their bedroom. Disrobing down to his boxers, Dean jumped into bed, rolled over facing away from Sam’s side of the bed and pulled the covers up his bare torso. The rushing water of Sam’s shower provided a drowsing white noise and by the time it shut off, Dean was almost completely under the Sandman’s spell. His sleep-hazed mind distantly registered the dip in the mattress, knowing now that Sam was in bed it could succumb to the lull of sleep.
A warm tickling breeze across his ear roused him and he was aware that he’d only been dozing for a few minutes. He swiped his hand in the space over his ear to shoo away the cause of the disturbing puff of air when a low chuckle filtered into his groggy mind.
“So, Peeping Dean? Did you enjoy your show tonight,” Sam asked in the same honeyed rough voice from earlier, moist breath brushing over Dean’s ear and making him shiver. “Did you like it as much as when you watched me with Megan? I know you came that night, did you cum tonight too? Did you paint the side of the trailer?”
His mind tried to ignore Sam’s words even as his dick perked up to listen carefully. Warmth pressed against his body, sealing to his back from shoulders to ankles. A calloused hand wound its way over his side and trailed down the hard planes of his abdomen, coming to rest just above the waistband of his boxers.
“Did you like watching me eat her out? Finger him open?” Dean moaned and the tips of Sam’s fingers delved under the elastic waistband, teasing the sensitive skin underneath. “How about when I fucked them? Did you touch yourself listening to them moan on the end of my dick? Did you cum when they screamed my name?”
The coping mechanisms that Dean had clung to - repression, avoidance, denial - failed and his willpower snapped right after. He growled, flipping over, and crushed his lips to Sam’s. The younger man’s lips parted on a gasp, startled by the fluidity and grace of the move, and Dean, recognizing his advantage, licked his way into the warm cavern of his brother’s mouth.
Dean grasped Sam’s shoulders with bruising fingertips. “God Sammy! The mouth on you. Where the hell did you learn to talk like that,” Dean panted against his lips before diving back in for another kiss.
“You think I was deaf all those nights you watched porn in our motel rooms?” Sam pushed Dean down on his back and rolled on top of him, pressing his aching erection into Dean’s hip. He kissed Dean again and trailed open-mouthed kisses across his cheek to his ear, rocking his body down into Dean’s. Running his tongue over the shell and around the whirl, he whispered mischievously, “I can promise you I’m not. Want to see what else I can do with my mouth?”
Dean shivered at the husky tone in Sam’s voice. “No.” Sam jerked back, hurt and confusion evident in his eyes. “I’ve seen what you can do with your mouth. It’s my turn to show you what I can do with mine.”
Dean rolled them over and slotted his legs between Sam’s and rolled his hips down against Sam. He ran his tongue down the corded muscles of his neck, pausing to lavish attention to a spot midway down that had made Sam moan. Raking his teeth against the salty skin to hear Sam again, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the spot before continuing his oral exploration of Sam’s body. Nipping and licking the wings of Sam’s collarbone, Dean sucked at the hollow between them and let his hands roam over the tanned skin covering Sam’s torso. He ran the tip of his nose down to Sam’s left nipple and mouthed the reddish-brown flesh. He licked, nibbled and sucked in sequence until the skin pulled taut and pebbled. Dean moved to the left and repeated the actions on the right nipple, ghosting his fingertips down his brother’s sides to hook in the waistband of Sam’s boxer briefs.
“Oh, God. Dean. Feels good.” The awed reverence in Sam’s tone penetrated Dean’s lust-hazed focus, but it was quickly pushed aside as he slid the cotton material down Sam’s slender hips, freeing his engorged erection. Dean leaned back to slip the worn undershorts down his brother’s long legs and then rid himself of his own.
He peppered kisses over Sam’s abs and stomach and sucked small bruises into the skin covering his spurred hipbones. Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam’s heavy arousal loosely and licked a stripe from base to tip. He pressed a sloppy kiss to the head and felt Sam’s fingers thread through the short spikes of his hair. Tonguing away a drop of pre-come, Dean lowered his mouth down Sam’s shaft until the tip nudged the back of his throat. He pulled half-way up and Sam’s grip on his hair tightened, pressure trying to force him back down.
Dean reached up with one hand and uncurled Sam’s hand to entwine their fingers then did the same with the other hand. He pressed their clasped hands into the mattress to the side of Sam’s hips and bobbed forward until his nose bumped the coarse hair at the base of Sam’s dick.
“Dean,” Sam cried out, straining against Dean’s hold on his hands. Dean set up a rhythm, Sam bucking his hips and kicking his legs.
Dean untangled one hand, Sam’s automatically flying to Dean’s head again, and sucked his index and middle fingers in beside Sam’s hardened member. Satisfied they were coated, Dean pulled his fingers free and moved them slowly under Sam’s balls to the tightly furled muscle beneath. He circled Sam’s entrance and gently pressed the pad of one finger to test the resistance without actually penetrating.
“Dean!” Sam’s fingers in his hair twisted painfully, his hand still grasped in Dean’s tried to pull loose frantically and his body arched and bucked desperately.
The panic that Sam filled into that one word made Dean stop and raise his head. Fear clenched at his guts and iced the blood in his veins. “Sammy? What?”
“Dean, no. I-I’ve…I’ve never,” Sam started, a slight tremor in his voice that anyone other than Dean would probably miss. Sam was scared and trying to hide it.
“You’ve never bottomed.”
“No,” Sam replied sheepishly. “Never trusted anyone enough.”
Dean saw Sam’s erection starting to flag and he took it in his hand, stroking it slowly to regain its interest. Sam’s back arched and he grit his teeth against the groan that wanted to bubble up his throat. Dean moved up the bed and lay beside his brother, hand petting over the muscles of Sam’s stomach and fingers gliding lightly over his shaft.
“Sammy?” Sam’s hazel eyes, glittering in the dark, turned toward Dean grudgingly. “Do you trust me?”
Sam arched an eyebrow. “Of course. With my life.”
“Good.” Dean lifted Sam’s hands and curled them around the wooden slats of their headboard. “Leave them there,” he whispered against Sam’s lips. “I want to remember that you trust me. I promise not to hurt you and, if you don’t like something, I promise to stop the minute you tell me to. Just lay back and relax.”
Dean leaned over and slid open the drawer to the nightstand, snatching the bottle of lube hidden under some cleaning rags. At the click of the cap, Sam’s breathing sped up and Dean pressed reassuring kisses to his chest and shoulder. Feeling his brother calm, Dean slicked up three fingers and slithered down the bed, dropping the lube by Sam’s hip on the way. He gently prodded Sam’s legs apart and settled between them, resuming his previous devotion to the hardened flesh. Sinking down to the base and swallowing, Dean pushed one lubricated finger into Sam’s virgin hole. He slid his spit slickened lips up and down a few times mimicking the movement with the in and out of his finger before adding another. Sam suppressed a whimper at the addition, teeth biting into the softness of his bottom lip.
Dean lifted his head, but didn’t still his fingers. “Okay, Sam?” Sam nodded, teeth blanching his lip. “Don’t hold it back, Sammy. I want to hear you. Let it out. Let go.”
Dean mouthed at the crown, sucking hard, and curled his fingers inside his brother’s body, rubbing the soft mounded gland when he found it. Sam’s body arched up off the bed and a groan rumbled up his chest. Dean quickly added a third finger and tapped that place again. Sam’s body convulsed - writhing, bucking, twisting - whines and whimpers flowing past his lips.
“Oh, fuck. Dean. Dean. Dean. Oh my God. Don’t…don’t stop. Oh, fuck.”
Dean smiled and pressed a small kiss to each hip. He removed his fingers, smirking at the whine of protest from his brother’s lips. He reached into the open drawer for a condom and in quick, practiced motions had it unrolled down his length. Pouring lube in his hand, he ran it once over Sam just to hear him groan again before slicking himself up.
“Roll over, Sammy.” Dean looked up and could see the fear and want raging war in his brother’s eyes. Sam hesitated for a moment then rolled over on his stomach and rose up on his hands and knees.
Dean smoothed his hands over Sam’s flanks and spine and followed with soft, wet kisses, feeling the nervous quivers in the muscles under the skin. Scooting forward and aligning himself with Sam’s glistening hole, Dean took a deep breath. “Last chance, Sammy. Tell me no.”
Sam didn’t answer, just pushed back and, exhaling, Dean thrust forward slowly. He took his time, moving in increments and allowing Sam to adjust and relax before going further. Ignoring his body’s demands to take Sam fast and hard, he entered an inch at time until he rested flush against Sam’s back. Panting through the overwhelming need to move, Dean rubbed soothing circles over his brother’s back and waited for a sign that Sam was ready.
“D-Dean, please. Please now,” Sam whimpered and the sound ramped up Dean’s need. He pulled out slightly and pushed back in, setting a slow, easy pace. He angled his hips on his next thrust and Sam jerked wildly beneath him.
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ. Holy shit. Do that again.”
Dean curled steadying hands over Sam’s hips and began to fuck in earnest, hitting that spot as accurately as he could on each pass. Sam cried out and pushed back, matching Dean’s snaps forward with pushes back.
“Fuck, Dean. Harder. Please.”
Dean picked up the pace and drove harder into Sam’s body, groaning at the tight heat surrounding him. His hand slid off Sam’s hip and encircled his brother’s hardness. Running his palm over the leaking head, he pumped in time with his thrusts. Dean could feel Sam’s hips stuttering between rocking back into Dean pounding in his ass or forward into Dean stroking his dick. Hitting Sam’s prostate on the next pass in, Dean twisted his hand on the downstroke and felt warmth spill over his hand and clench around his imbedded member.
Sam screamed his name and Dean made it two more thrusts before he spilled with Sam’s name on his lips. His legs were like jelly as aftershocks racked his body and beneath him he could feel Sam tremble with his own. When his body felt under his control again, he slipped free of Sam, hand smoothing over his back when he hissed, and both boys collapsed into a heap.
Dean closed his eyes, chest heaving as his heart and lungs struggled to regain their normal rhythm. He heard Sam panting next to him and felt the heat radiating off his flushed body. Cracking an eye open, he rolled his head toward his brother to find Sam’s flushed face smiling at him.
“You okay there, Sammy?” Dean raised up on his elbow, lips pressing to Sam’s shoulder in a tender kiss. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Sam flopped over on his back, chuckles trying to burst past closed lips and eyes watering in the effort. “That was awesome.”
Dean laid there stunned and watched as the Sam’s whole frame shook with his laughter. A grin broke out across Dean’s face at the sight of Sam in such a state of open happiness and couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it.
“You liked it,” he breathed.
“Liked it? You couldn’t tell? You’ve seen me have sex before…did this seem like the other times?”
Heat spread up Dean’s face and neck at the reminder of his recent acts of voyeurism. Scratching the back of his neck and dropping his eyes to where their feet were tangled together, he hedged, “No, I guess not. You were definitely more vocal.”
“You were worried I didn’t like it.” Sam chuckled again. “Dumbass.”
Dean bit his lip, curiosity eating at him. “Hey, Sammy? What was with the agro attitude toward that Jeff guy?”
Sam laughed harder. “Guy was a prick. He’s in the closet and wanted me to open the door. Fucker thought since he was a football player, I’d just roll over and spread. Proved him wrong.”
“Huh? Gotta tell you though little brother, the dirty talk…seriously hot. Surprised that jock didn’t cream his pants right then.”
“You like my dirty talk?” Sam’s lips quirked into a pleased smile.
“Hell yeah. “ Dean smirked in return. “Soooo,” Dean dropped back on the mattress and focused his attention on the ceiling. “You think this might be something you’d like again…with me?”
“I don’t know,” Sam hesitated and Dean’s heart dropped. Now that he’d had Sam, he wasn’t sure he could stand never having him again. Sam rolled over and rested his chin on Dean’s chest with a teasing smile. “Definitely.” he whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sam wiggled and maneuvered until his body was lined up against Dean’s side, arm over his chest and legs threaded together. Dean waited as Sam rubbed the side of his face into Dean’s pec in search of a comfortable position and felt his smile against his skin when Dean’s wrapped him in his strong arms.
Dean was almost asleep when Sam’s lips brushed over him as he spoke, “Hey, Dean?” He could only muster enough energy to hum in response. “You think maybe sometime you might like it?”
Dean thought back to what he’d seen before. “Yeah, Sammy. I think I would.” Dean pressed a small kiss to the silky locks under his chin and sighed happily as sleep tugged at him. He was really going to look forward to those ‘other times’ now.
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam, Sam/OFC, Sam/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wincest, Underage (Sam's 16), Voyeurism, Dirty Talk
Word Count: ~ 5600
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Dean realizes that Sam is growing up (among other things)when he accidentally sees his little brother in a few compromising positions.
Author Notes: One shot in the Brain Verse. Comes first chronologically, but it is not necessary to read the other stories. Un-betaed.
There was a fundamental issue with being a primary care giver to a child. In between the wiped noses, potty training and tied shoe laces, you tended to miss them growing up. In the back of his mind, Dean knew that Sam was getting older, evolving. Sometimes Sam’s journey to adulthood was obvious - eyes that once looked up to Dean for answers, now looked right at him with a wisdom that only passing years could provide. Other times it came as a blinding revelation when Dean least expected it - walking into the bathroom one morning to find Sam gliding a razor over shaving cream covered cheeks. Dean hated the ‘other times’. They twisted his gut and stole his breath with a sudden awareness that Sam was no longer an innocent child of six, but a mature near-man of sixteen.
Even with the frequency with which Dean had been experiencing the ‘other times’ lately, he still wasn’t prepared for the most recent episode. Standing in the night darkened hallway of their single wide palace of the month, Dean was blind-sided by the realization that somewhere over the years, Sam had transformed from a painfully shy adolescent into a sexual creature.
Fucking cat!
Three days this week Dean’d gone out and found red-brown paw prints tracked over the windshield and hood of his beloved baby. Then when he got home, the smug little bastard had the audacity to be curled up asleep on the front porch. With vicious glee, he chased it around the back of the house, shouting promises of every form of torture and death imaginable, and into the neighbor’s yard. Self-consciously aware of the blackmail material his little chase provided, Dean’s eyes flashed to the windows of the trailer to see if his brother was watching. The house was dark, except for a small patch of golden light accompanied by a flickering blue-white light behind the sheet tacked over the windows in the living room. No pulled back curtain, no amused hazel eyes. Sam was apparently oblivious to Dean’s antics outside. Dean chuckled at the predictability and knew he’d find Sam splayed on the couch, face buried in a book with the television providing background noise.
Huffing a sigh, Dean walked up the rickety metal stairs and hoped the key to the front door also worked on the back. He stepped over the salt line into the hallway leading from the main part of the house to the bedroom and bathroom that he and Sam shared. Pulling the door shut, he stopped briefly in their bedroom to kick off his boots before padding across the worn carpeting toward the kitchen. The shag was the original laid when the trailer was manufactured and thanks to the long fibers, still cushioned his footsteps even after years of repeated traffic. A mischievous smile curled his lips as thoughts of sneaking up on Sam.
Let’s see how good little brother’s hunter instincts are.
Dean stopped at the end of the hallway, concealed in the darkness, to see if Sam was in fact on the couch so he could plan his attack. His head snapped back and his breath left him in a rush. Sam was on the couch alright, but his face wasn’t buried in a book. No, Dean’s baby brother had his face buried between the creamy thighs of a brunette.
He stood stunned, fascinated at the pornographic symphony created by the wet sounds of Sam pleasuring the girl mixed with her breathy gasps. Smooth legs were draped over muscled forearms and Dean could see Sam’s long fingers curled over slender hips, limiting her desperate writhing. Sam’s right hand relinquished its grip and glided over her tanned skin, fingertips tickling a path from her hip to the wetness at her center. He lifted his head, affording Dean a peek, as nimble digits petted and separated glistening folds, trailing lower until one dipped teasingly into the wet heat before sinking all the way in. The girl arched her back, head curling over the arm of the couch it was resting on, and her small hands cupped her breasts, squeezing. Sam lowered his mouth again, nodding head blocking Dean’s view, and she jolted, a strangled scream piercing the air. Sam continued his ministrations, riding the bucking of the body beneath him, and pulled mewls and whimpers from rose tinted lips.
It was a sexual train wreck and Dean couldn’t look away. Even with the poor angle, only able to see the girl’s enraptured face and Sam’s rippling back, it was better than any porn Dean had ever watched. His hand flew to his crotch to push against his hardened cock and he bit his lip to keep down the groan threatening to escape, eyes closing as heat coiled in low in his belly.
“Sam. Sam,” the girl gasped, bringing Dean’s attention to the show in front on him.
“Yes, Megan.” Sam lapped at her, a smug smile firmly in place, wrist twisting and thrusting between her spread legs as she ground herself down.
“Fuck,” Megan keened when Sam pushed in deep. She grabbed his upper arms and pulled Sam up her body, lips pressing in a sloppy kiss. “Get your fucking pants off.” Her hands disappeared between them and Dean could hear Sam’s belt and zipper being undone. Sam’s hand moved to his back pocket, three fingers shining with her juices in the dim lamplight, and retrieved a foil packet then shimmied the denim down his long legs.
Dean turned from the sight, back pressed to the wall, breath panting over bite-plumped lips. He snatched at his jeans until he felt the fly give and the pressure on his engorged member lessen. Closing his eyes tightly and wrapping a firm grip around himself, Dean listened to the sounds coming from the living room.
A gasp and a moan as Sam breached her. The squeak of couch springs underneath breathless pleas for ‘more’ interspersed with curses as Sam pistoned into her. Behind the darkness of his eyelids, Dean’s mind supplied a visual to the soundtrack coming from the other room. He stroked his cock in time to the couch’s protests, bringing him to the edge embarrassingly fast. Realizing his imagination had replaced Megan with someone more masculine, more muscled and more brotherly, Dean exploded, mind whiting out at the intensity. Panting as he came down, a high-pitched squeal reminded Dean of what had fueled quite possibly the best orgasm of his life.
He rolled back toward the scene in the living room in time to see Megan wriggling under Sam like a worm on a hook. Sam thrust hard, her body spasming as her orgasm shook her small frame and she screamed his name to the stained ceiling. A few dozen pumps later, Sam’s body stilled and he grunted, the first noise he’d made since entering her, as his back and buttocks tensed at his own release.
Dean forced his body to move back to the bedroom where he snatched his boots and silently went out the back door. After slamming his feet into shoes, he stumbled around the house, tripping periodically on his untied laces. He wrenched open the driver’s side door of the Impala and dug under the seat for the pack of cigarettes he’d secreted away there. It was the first pack he’d ever bought, almost two years ago, and it was still half-full. He only smoked in times of extreme stress which in their line of work usually meant a near-death scare, but he felt this situation qualified. Leaning against the hood of the car, he lit up and pulled in a deep lungful of gaseous death while he mulled over his current predicament.
Okay, so the fact of the matter was I might or might not want to fuck my brother. Feeling his dick twitch at the memory of Sam cumming in Megan, he decided to be honest with himself. The fact of the matter was I want to fuck my brother…badly.
Exhaling a stream of smoke out the corner of his mouth, he stiffened at the sound of the front door opening. Sam stood on the porch with Megan and kissed her good night. Looking side to side, Dean wondered how she got here. They were a few miles outside of town and the Impala was the only car in the driveway. She dopily staggered down the steps and headed off in the direction of the neighboring house.
Ah…the girl next door.
He sniggered at the thought clueing Sam into his presence. Sam quirked an eyebrow at the lit cigarette in Dean’s hand and in return Dean quirked an eyebrow at the retreating back of the girl. They both shrugged and Sam spun to go back in the house.
It didn’t matter what Dean wanted. Sam was apparently into girls and you know the whole brother thing. Dean would just do what he’d always done. Repress. He’d just bury this thing with Sam and forget about it. Yeah, that’s it.
Repression is a wonderful thing, until it stops working. Dean lived in blessed denial for three weeks then came another of those ‘other times’ - the night that he came home to a strange car parked in front of the house. Immediately suspicious, Dean leaned over and pulled a gun from the glove box and, after checking it was loaded, quietly exited the car. Creeping up the stairs to the front porch, he peered through the space between the sheet and the window casing to see inside.
Sam was seated on the couch just like every other night - except one that Dean refused to think about - school books piled high on the coffee table. Dean would have thought Sam was studying if it wasn’t for the blonde man kneeling between his brother’s spread legs.
Well, hell. There went Dean’s fervent belief that Sam only liked girls.
All Dean could see around the coffee table was the guy’s muscular shoulders and a head of blonde hair above and Sam’s jeans pooling on the floor around one of the ankles bracketing the guys knees below. The rhythmic bobbing of the blonde head quickened and Sam dropped his head back on the sofa cushion, mouth open in a silent moan. Shifting positions, the guy turned his face and Dean could see Sam’s dick sliding in and out of blondie’s mouth, distending the skin of his cheek with its girth. Sam’s hand came up and cupped his jaw, thumb pressing against the bulge he’d created. Those hands slid behind blondie’s head and held him as Sam bucked up hard. The guy made a choking sound and Sam pushed him back, away from his swollen member.
Sam leaned forward, tugging on blondie’s collar until their lips were only millimeters apart. “With that mouth, I’da thought you’d be a better cocksucker. That’s okay. You’ve got more than one place I can fill. Since you can’t take it down your throat, you think you can take it up your ass? Hmmm, Jeff? Think you can handle me shoving into your hot, tight hole? Stretching you around me, filling you so full? ” Sam growled, voice like honeyed whiskey, and fingers curling under his jaw. Jeff whimpered, fucking whimpered, and Dean felt an echo bubble up his throat.
Jesus! Where did Sam learn to talk like that? Christ, the kid was only sixteen.
Once again he couldn’t look away. Sam‘s fingers ghosted down Jeff’s back and fisted in the hem of his shirt, yanking the soft cotton up and off. Sam reached up and behind, grabbing the neckline of his shirt near the tag and pulled the fabric up in a fluid movement. Dean gasped at the exposed expanse of Sam’s chest, amazed at the sculpted muscles his little brother had been concealing under baggy clothes.
Jeff lunged forward capturing Sam’s lips in a hard kiss, groaning at the touch of their bare skin. Sam pushed him off roughly, snarling, “Pants off, now!”
Jeff lurched to his feet, fingers frantically working over button and zipper to shed his jeans. On the other side of the glass, Dean mirrored his motions to free his own aching cock as if Sam’s command had been for him. Hand sliding up and down desperately seeking relief, Dean watched Sam guide Jeff on the couch, positioning him on his knees with his forearms resting on the arm over a jacket draped there. Leaning down to snag his jeans, Sam came back with a small bottle of lube and a condom. Sam drizzled the clear liquid over his fingers and down Jeff’s crack. His free hand separated the rounded flesh and newly slickened digits followed the wet path to Jeff’s now exposed pucker.
Sam circled the furled muscle and Jeff writhed, cock bobbing uselessly in midair with each impotent gyration. Just as the blonde man whined, Sam pushed his finger past the resistance and into Jeff’s welcoming body. Barely allowing the man enough time to adjust to the intrusion, Sam added a second and in quick succession a third finger. Jeff’s initial grimace of pain morphed into an expression of ecstasy and a loud keen forced its way out when Sam thrust his fingers back in and swiveled his wrist.
Dean’s hole fluttered in envy and he shuddered at the desire gnawing at him. Never in his life had he wished to be someone other than who he was, but right now he wanted to be Jeff. Sam pulled his fingers out, wiping them on the skin before him, and deftly removed the condom from its wrapper, rolling the latex down his reddened length. Sam adjusted his stance and manipulated Jeff’s position, lining his rounded tip to the man’s entrance then pushed forward in one long slide. Dean’s stroking hand stilled, paralyzed at the sight of Sam sheathing himself in the body before him.
His eyes tracked Sam’s long, slow glides out and quick, brutal thrusts back in, hand mimicking the slide on his own shaft. Sam slid his hands under Jeff’s chest and curled them over his shoulders. He shifted on the next pass in, pulling Jeff up to sit on his lap, his back flush to Sam’s chest. Jeff’s eyes flew open and he cried out Sam’s name, thick ropes of cum streaking the wool of what Dean now realized was a letterman’s jacket. Sam’s hips hastened, pounding up into the dazed man, now little more than a warm, tight hole to be used. Sam grunted and Dean’s gaze lifted to his face, wanting to see him fall over the edge and knowing he would drag Dean with him. Sam’s eyes clenched shut, his mouth gaped open, and he pumped three more times before going rigid, buried deep in Jeff’s ass. Dean was so enraptured at the sheer bliss on Sam’s face that his own orgasm took him by surprise, the warmth on his hand startling him.
Gasping, overheated skin raising in gooseflesh from the cold night air, Dean tucked himself back into his jeans and nearly fell down the stairs. He crossed to the Impala and pressed his flushed face against the cool metal of the roof in hopes of gaining some semblance of control. Noise from the house had him rolling his head to see two shadows moving behind the curtain. It looked like Jeff was gathering his things to leave. Thinking quickly, Dean opened and slammed the car door to make it appear that he’d just gotten home and hoped Sam didn’t notice the absence of the engine’s roar. He took two steps toward the house and the front door opened to reveal Sam ushering Jeff out.
“Dean, you’re home. This is Jeff. I was helping him study.” Sam gestured to the blonde man and Dean noticed the football letter on his jacket. Motioning to Dean, Sam continued, “Jeff, this is my brother, Dean.”
Dean was struck momentarily dumb at the casualness in Sam’s tone. His little brother’s voice never indicating that five minutes ago, Sam had been fucking Jeff for all he was worth. Snapping to his senses, Dean stuck out his hand.
“Studying, huh?” Dean smirked when the boy blushed and shook his outstretched hand.
“Yeah. Just helping him sort through some confusion he was having on a particular subject.”
“Really? What subject?” Jeff looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but Sam answered without missing a beat.
“Health.”
“Oh, okay. Sammy get you all straightened out, Jeff? Clear up that confusion you were having?”
Dean actually bit the side of his cheek to keep from laughing when Jeff’s eyes went wide. He raised his eyebrows expectantly and finally Jeff stuttered over a ‘yes’.
“That’s good. Well, good night.” Smiling, he moved past Sam into the house.
The scent of sex was still faint in the air and the sheet over the windows behind the couch billowed in softly with the evening breeze. His smile faded as he took in the disheveled couch cushions. Twice now he’d seen Sam with someone on that couch and he’d gotten off on it both times. It was official, no one time misguided fantasy, Dean wanted his baby brother.
He was so screwed.
Dean spent the next hour trying his damnedest to not pay attention to Sam. It was really an act of futility and doomed from the start - like telling someone to not think of pink bumblebees or purple rhinos. What’s the first thing that would pop into their head? Pink bumblebees or purple rhinos.
When Sam twirled his pen over and under his knuckles, Dean flashed to those nimble fingers twisting in Megan and Jeff, wringing groans of pleasure from them. When Sam licked the pad of his index finger to flip the page of his textbook, Dean remembered him lapping at Megan’s pussy as she fucked herself down on his hand. When Sam slumped on the couch head lolled back, pinching the bridge of his nose, and legs wide, Dean saw Jeff kneeling between the open ‘v’ with his head bobbing on the swollen flesh at the focal point.
Finally, Sam closed his books and announced he was taking a shower before bed. Dean had never been so glad to be alone in his life, feeling like he could breathe properly now that Sam wasn’t in the room. He rubbed his tired eyes, thinking it was time for bed, and panic flared in his chest.
Bed…they shared a goddamned bed.
Cursing the universe that apparently hated him, he decided to hurry to bed while Sam was in the shower in the hopes he’d be asleep before Sam finished.
He quickly checked the salt lines and shut off the lights then practically sprinted down the hallway to their bedroom. Disrobing down to his boxers, Dean jumped into bed, rolled over facing away from Sam’s side of the bed and pulled the covers up his bare torso. The rushing water of Sam’s shower provided a drowsing white noise and by the time it shut off, Dean was almost completely under the Sandman’s spell. His sleep-hazed mind distantly registered the dip in the mattress, knowing now that Sam was in bed it could succumb to the lull of sleep.
A warm tickling breeze across his ear roused him and he was aware that he’d only been dozing for a few minutes. He swiped his hand in the space over his ear to shoo away the cause of the disturbing puff of air when a low chuckle filtered into his groggy mind.
“So, Peeping Dean? Did you enjoy your show tonight,” Sam asked in the same honeyed rough voice from earlier, moist breath brushing over Dean’s ear and making him shiver. “Did you like it as much as when you watched me with Megan? I know you came that night, did you cum tonight too? Did you paint the side of the trailer?”
His mind tried to ignore Sam’s words even as his dick perked up to listen carefully. Warmth pressed against his body, sealing to his back from shoulders to ankles. A calloused hand wound its way over his side and trailed down the hard planes of his abdomen, coming to rest just above the waistband of his boxers.
“Did you like watching me eat her out? Finger him open?” Dean moaned and the tips of Sam’s fingers delved under the elastic waistband, teasing the sensitive skin underneath. “How about when I fucked them? Did you touch yourself listening to them moan on the end of my dick? Did you cum when they screamed my name?”
The coping mechanisms that Dean had clung to - repression, avoidance, denial - failed and his willpower snapped right after. He growled, flipping over, and crushed his lips to Sam’s. The younger man’s lips parted on a gasp, startled by the fluidity and grace of the move, and Dean, recognizing his advantage, licked his way into the warm cavern of his brother’s mouth.
Dean grasped Sam’s shoulders with bruising fingertips. “God Sammy! The mouth on you. Where the hell did you learn to talk like that,” Dean panted against his lips before diving back in for another kiss.
“You think I was deaf all those nights you watched porn in our motel rooms?” Sam pushed Dean down on his back and rolled on top of him, pressing his aching erection into Dean’s hip. He kissed Dean again and trailed open-mouthed kisses across his cheek to his ear, rocking his body down into Dean’s. Running his tongue over the shell and around the whirl, he whispered mischievously, “I can promise you I’m not. Want to see what else I can do with my mouth?”
Dean shivered at the husky tone in Sam’s voice. “No.” Sam jerked back, hurt and confusion evident in his eyes. “I’ve seen what you can do with your mouth. It’s my turn to show you what I can do with mine.”
Dean rolled them over and slotted his legs between Sam’s and rolled his hips down against Sam. He ran his tongue down the corded muscles of his neck, pausing to lavish attention to a spot midway down that had made Sam moan. Raking his teeth against the salty skin to hear Sam again, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the spot before continuing his oral exploration of Sam’s body. Nipping and licking the wings of Sam’s collarbone, Dean sucked at the hollow between them and let his hands roam over the tanned skin covering Sam’s torso. He ran the tip of his nose down to Sam’s left nipple and mouthed the reddish-brown flesh. He licked, nibbled and sucked in sequence until the skin pulled taut and pebbled. Dean moved to the left and repeated the actions on the right nipple, ghosting his fingertips down his brother’s sides to hook in the waistband of Sam’s boxer briefs.
“Oh, God. Dean. Feels good.” The awed reverence in Sam’s tone penetrated Dean’s lust-hazed focus, but it was quickly pushed aside as he slid the cotton material down Sam’s slender hips, freeing his engorged erection. Dean leaned back to slip the worn undershorts down his brother’s long legs and then rid himself of his own.
He peppered kisses over Sam’s abs and stomach and sucked small bruises into the skin covering his spurred hipbones. Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam’s heavy arousal loosely and licked a stripe from base to tip. He pressed a sloppy kiss to the head and felt Sam’s fingers thread through the short spikes of his hair. Tonguing away a drop of pre-come, Dean lowered his mouth down Sam’s shaft until the tip nudged the back of his throat. He pulled half-way up and Sam’s grip on his hair tightened, pressure trying to force him back down.
Dean reached up with one hand and uncurled Sam’s hand to entwine their fingers then did the same with the other hand. He pressed their clasped hands into the mattress to the side of Sam’s hips and bobbed forward until his nose bumped the coarse hair at the base of Sam’s dick.
“Dean,” Sam cried out, straining against Dean’s hold on his hands. Dean set up a rhythm, Sam bucking his hips and kicking his legs.
Dean untangled one hand, Sam’s automatically flying to Dean’s head again, and sucked his index and middle fingers in beside Sam’s hardened member. Satisfied they were coated, Dean pulled his fingers free and moved them slowly under Sam’s balls to the tightly furled muscle beneath. He circled Sam’s entrance and gently pressed the pad of one finger to test the resistance without actually penetrating.
“Dean!” Sam’s fingers in his hair twisted painfully, his hand still grasped in Dean’s tried to pull loose frantically and his body arched and bucked desperately.
The panic that Sam filled into that one word made Dean stop and raise his head. Fear clenched at his guts and iced the blood in his veins. “Sammy? What?”
“Dean, no. I-I’ve…I’ve never,” Sam started, a slight tremor in his voice that anyone other than Dean would probably miss. Sam was scared and trying to hide it.
“You’ve never bottomed.”
“No,” Sam replied sheepishly. “Never trusted anyone enough.”
Dean saw Sam’s erection starting to flag and he took it in his hand, stroking it slowly to regain its interest. Sam’s back arched and he grit his teeth against the groan that wanted to bubble up his throat. Dean moved up the bed and lay beside his brother, hand petting over the muscles of Sam’s stomach and fingers gliding lightly over his shaft.
“Sammy?” Sam’s hazel eyes, glittering in the dark, turned toward Dean grudgingly. “Do you trust me?”
Sam arched an eyebrow. “Of course. With my life.”
“Good.” Dean lifted Sam’s hands and curled them around the wooden slats of their headboard. “Leave them there,” he whispered against Sam’s lips. “I want to remember that you trust me. I promise not to hurt you and, if you don’t like something, I promise to stop the minute you tell me to. Just lay back and relax.”
Dean leaned over and slid open the drawer to the nightstand, snatching the bottle of lube hidden under some cleaning rags. At the click of the cap, Sam’s breathing sped up and Dean pressed reassuring kisses to his chest and shoulder. Feeling his brother calm, Dean slicked up three fingers and slithered down the bed, dropping the lube by Sam’s hip on the way. He gently prodded Sam’s legs apart and settled between them, resuming his previous devotion to the hardened flesh. Sinking down to the base and swallowing, Dean pushed one lubricated finger into Sam’s virgin hole. He slid his spit slickened lips up and down a few times mimicking the movement with the in and out of his finger before adding another. Sam suppressed a whimper at the addition, teeth biting into the softness of his bottom lip.
Dean lifted his head, but didn’t still his fingers. “Okay, Sam?” Sam nodded, teeth blanching his lip. “Don’t hold it back, Sammy. I want to hear you. Let it out. Let go.”
Dean mouthed at the crown, sucking hard, and curled his fingers inside his brother’s body, rubbing the soft mounded gland when he found it. Sam’s body arched up off the bed and a groan rumbled up his chest. Dean quickly added a third finger and tapped that place again. Sam’s body convulsed - writhing, bucking, twisting - whines and whimpers flowing past his lips.
“Oh, fuck. Dean. Dean. Dean. Oh my God. Don’t…don’t stop. Oh, fuck.”
Dean smiled and pressed a small kiss to each hip. He removed his fingers, smirking at the whine of protest from his brother’s lips. He reached into the open drawer for a condom and in quick, practiced motions had it unrolled down his length. Pouring lube in his hand, he ran it once over Sam just to hear him groan again before slicking himself up.
“Roll over, Sammy.” Dean looked up and could see the fear and want raging war in his brother’s eyes. Sam hesitated for a moment then rolled over on his stomach and rose up on his hands and knees.
Dean smoothed his hands over Sam’s flanks and spine and followed with soft, wet kisses, feeling the nervous quivers in the muscles under the skin. Scooting forward and aligning himself with Sam’s glistening hole, Dean took a deep breath. “Last chance, Sammy. Tell me no.”
Sam didn’t answer, just pushed back and, exhaling, Dean thrust forward slowly. He took his time, moving in increments and allowing Sam to adjust and relax before going further. Ignoring his body’s demands to take Sam fast and hard, he entered an inch at time until he rested flush against Sam’s back. Panting through the overwhelming need to move, Dean rubbed soothing circles over his brother’s back and waited for a sign that Sam was ready.
“D-Dean, please. Please now,” Sam whimpered and the sound ramped up Dean’s need. He pulled out slightly and pushed back in, setting a slow, easy pace. He angled his hips on his next thrust and Sam jerked wildly beneath him.
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ. Holy shit. Do that again.”
Dean curled steadying hands over Sam’s hips and began to fuck in earnest, hitting that spot as accurately as he could on each pass. Sam cried out and pushed back, matching Dean’s snaps forward with pushes back.
“Fuck, Dean. Harder. Please.”
Dean picked up the pace and drove harder into Sam’s body, groaning at the tight heat surrounding him. His hand slid off Sam’s hip and encircled his brother’s hardness. Running his palm over the leaking head, he pumped in time with his thrusts. Dean could feel Sam’s hips stuttering between rocking back into Dean pounding in his ass or forward into Dean stroking his dick. Hitting Sam’s prostate on the next pass in, Dean twisted his hand on the downstroke and felt warmth spill over his hand and clench around his imbedded member.
Sam screamed his name and Dean made it two more thrusts before he spilled with Sam’s name on his lips. His legs were like jelly as aftershocks racked his body and beneath him he could feel Sam tremble with his own. When his body felt under his control again, he slipped free of Sam, hand smoothing over his back when he hissed, and both boys collapsed into a heap.
Dean closed his eyes, chest heaving as his heart and lungs struggled to regain their normal rhythm. He heard Sam panting next to him and felt the heat radiating off his flushed body. Cracking an eye open, he rolled his head toward his brother to find Sam’s flushed face smiling at him.
“You okay there, Sammy?” Dean raised up on his elbow, lips pressing to Sam’s shoulder in a tender kiss. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Sam flopped over on his back, chuckles trying to burst past closed lips and eyes watering in the effort. “That was awesome.”
Dean laid there stunned and watched as the Sam’s whole frame shook with his laughter. A grin broke out across Dean’s face at the sight of Sam in such a state of open happiness and couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it.
“You liked it,” he breathed.
“Liked it? You couldn’t tell? You’ve seen me have sex before…did this seem like the other times?”
Heat spread up Dean’s face and neck at the reminder of his recent acts of voyeurism. Scratching the back of his neck and dropping his eyes to where their feet were tangled together, he hedged, “No, I guess not. You were definitely more vocal.”
“You were worried I didn’t like it.” Sam chuckled again. “Dumbass.”
Dean bit his lip, curiosity eating at him. “Hey, Sammy? What was with the agro attitude toward that Jeff guy?”
Sam laughed harder. “Guy was a prick. He’s in the closet and wanted me to open the door. Fucker thought since he was a football player, I’d just roll over and spread. Proved him wrong.”
“Huh? Gotta tell you though little brother, the dirty talk…seriously hot. Surprised that jock didn’t cream his pants right then.”
“You like my dirty talk?” Sam’s lips quirked into a pleased smile.
“Hell yeah. “ Dean smirked in return. “Soooo,” Dean dropped back on the mattress and focused his attention on the ceiling. “You think this might be something you’d like again…with me?”
“I don’t know,” Sam hesitated and Dean’s heart dropped. Now that he’d had Sam, he wasn’t sure he could stand never having him again. Sam rolled over and rested his chin on Dean’s chest with a teasing smile. “Definitely.” he whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sam wiggled and maneuvered until his body was lined up against Dean’s side, arm over his chest and legs threaded together. Dean waited as Sam rubbed the side of his face into Dean’s pec in search of a comfortable position and felt his smile against his skin when Dean’s wrapped him in his strong arms.
Dean was almost asleep when Sam’s lips brushed over him as he spoke, “Hey, Dean?” He could only muster enough energy to hum in response. “You think maybe sometime you might like it?”
Dean thought back to what he’d seen before. “Yeah, Sammy. I think I would.” Dean pressed a small kiss to the silky locks under his chin and sighed happily as sleep tugged at him. He was really going to look forward to those ‘other times’ now.