My Computer
Title: My Computer
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Wincest, humor
Rating: NC17 for language and sexing
Pairing/Character(s): Sam/Dean, OFC, Bon Scott (kinda ^_^;)
Summary: It's my computer, damn it. (Sam's POV)
Warnings Advertisements: incest, man on man sexing, horrible singing of an AC/DC song, implied roofie.
Note: Okay, Becki and I got this idea from a video that someone somewhere found on the internet and posted on LJ. It was of a guy who sounded (and kinda looked) like Sam Winchester (or rather, Jared Padalecki). He was masturbating (naughty Becki for sending me porn! :P). Anyway, this idea sprung up and I wrote most of it rather quickly. Then, I used it to replace another challenge that she gave me a while ago and she let me, so I decided to sneak in a surprise for her that encompasses the last half of the story. Man, that was a BITCH to write. I mean it. I was ALMOST done for the last month. And now I'm finally done and Becki's not annoyed anymore, so we can all sleep well at night, now, yeah? Well, except for me, cause I have insomnia, but you get the point. NOW to cease my pointless rambling! On with the fic!
My computer isn’t just for research. In fact, a very low percentage of my time spent using it is dedicated to studying of any kind-at least after I hooked back up with my brother. I have my MySpace, my FaceBook, DeviantArt, even a LiveJournal account. I check everything on a regular basis and then go watch TV shows on YouTube because let’s face it, motel cable sucks for everyone except Dean. He doesn’t count, he’s a porn-addict. And yeah, I’ve looked up porn before. Hell, I’m usually desperate and dying of blue balls, but I’ve even masturbated. Wow, big surprise. It isn’t like I’m a guy or anything. (Hint: that’s sarcasm).
Anyway, the point is, I’m not the naïve, genius, little book nerd that everyone takes me for. Genius, maybe; I’d admit to something like that. But Dean takes things like that to extremes and likes to pretend I’m still a teenager, going through puberty. If anyone in this family is anything reminiscent of a hormonal teenager, it’s my brother, damn it. I should be picking on him about being liable to contract every STD known to man; I shouldn’t be taunted for not being a slut like him.
The other day, I decided that it had to stop. I was going to fight back with this shit. My incentive was the last straw, and it was on my computer when I got back from McDonald’s with breakfast.
Totally unsuspecting, I walked inside and tossed the bag on the table. The shower was running in the other room. My fantastically groggy, brain deduced that Dean was in the shower. My routine of two hours of sleep had been catching up with me, and it took me a while to get past the fact that Dean’s clothes weren’t scattered across the floor. Usually, he walks to the bathroom, stripping as he goes. Or was he just putting on a show for me because he thought that seeing his very well-toned, tan, and yea, beautiful body freaked me out. Not that I have a thing for my brother, I just…kind of have a thing for my brother.
I sat down and pushed the bag of grease and bread that people like to call food to the side. My laptop was just where I left it: in its bag on the far side of the table near the window.
“See me riiiiide out of the sunset! On your…color TV screeeen.”
All of my thoughts just sort of stopped at that point. My fingers were curled under the top of my computer, ready to pull it open, and I just sort of…stopped. Really? Without thinking about it, I turned towards the bathroom door where the loud, slightly obnoxious voice was spilling forth. It was a bit like listening to someone impersonating a person who was trying to sing but failing miserably. Which is weird because I know that Dean can sing relatively well when he wants to. Either, right now he doesn’t want to, or he knows I’m back and is trying to annoy me.
“Out for all that I can get…if ya know what I meeeeeean!”
When he hit a particularly sour note, my vote rested on the latter. Rolling my eyes, I tried to ignore him and swung my laptop open smoothly on its hinges. Immediately, I noticed that something was off. The little orange light on the power button was flashing as if I’d left it on when I closed it last night…I hadn’t. Still, my brain was foggy enough to convince itself that maybe I had accidently closed it before it shut down all the way and it was being a pissy bitch about it, as it did sometimes.
“Women to the left of meeee…and women to the RIGHT!”
As I stabbed the tip of my finger gently on to the power button, I couldn’t help the mental image of Dean playing air-guitar, buck naked in the steaming spray of the shower. And yeah, not as arousing an image as you might think. In fact, the tiny bit of morning wood I had that morning was gone. The night before, I had sneaked a quick jerk-off session when Dean was asleep and the aftershocks lived through until morning…until I imagined Dean flapping in the wind with the force of his “rocking out” to an imaginary AC/DC. I pulled myself away from that subject, sighing in time with my computer’s fan as it kicked on.
“Ain’t got no GUN! Ain’t got no knife…don’t you start no fight…”
Okay, I know the song. Really, I do. I actually like AC/DC more than most of the other things Dean subjects me to in the car. So, I knew that the next part was going to probably be really, freaking, unnecessarily loud. It’s one thing hearing Bon Scott singing at the top of his lungs that he’s “dynamite,” and a complete other when Dean does it. As soon as I opened my internet and a page that was most definitely not my homepage opened, I heard a combination of the two assault my ears.
“’Cause I’m TNT, I’m dyno-MITE!”
Oh you son of a bitch… Before I did anything else, I checked the address bar and read ‘http://www.fantasti.cc etc. etc..’ The screen loaded as a video player, a bit like YouTube, but the layout was in grays and blacks. On the side was an add that read “who’s laughing now” with a graphic, moving image of two people fucking as if it was taken by a hidden camera. Then, the kicker was the actual video that was playing with AC/DC’s TNT in the background. I read the title out loud to myself.
“Caught little brother having fun on hidden camera phone.” My deep, warm blush wasn’t just from the fact that the video was so blatantly pornographic. It wasn’t even that the username that uploaded it was ‘winchester214,’ and thus obviously my brother. The thing that turned me bright red was that the video took place in a terrifyingly familiar hotel room and the moans were horrifyingly mine. For a few seconds, the sounds of “I’m TNT, and I win the FIGHT!” was drowned out and my attention was hooked solely on the image of myself, lying sprawled across my bed, with my hand wrapped around my dick-much like I had been last night.
In fact, I was immediately one hundred percent certain that my worst fears were realized and I was jerking off for the entire world to see.
Okay, I can take being taunted for my smarts, my height, and my looks. All the way through high school, I had to deal with that shit-the pranks, the bullies-and even after that, Dean playfully gave me a hard time. I can handle that, it’s what keeps life interesting, right? But this…Dean just went too far this time. This video was a deep violation of my privacy. And besides, he was supposed to be asleep, damn him!
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… Holy shit, I was on the internet, on a porn site, with my hand sliding over my dick like I’ve never seen a woman before. Watching it now, I realized that I had been a bit more vocal than I thought. In fact, I was moaning more that I usually would, considering my brother was ‘sleeping’ right next to me. Wait a second…Shit, I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that Dean actually took this video or that he took the time to doctor it-which means he definitely watched it more than a couple times.
Suddenly, I felt naked. My skin pricked up in little goose pimples all over as though I wasn’t wearing clothes outdoors in Alaska. If Dean walked in right then, I would have been completely bare before his eyes. After a few moments of “watch me explode” and how many innuendoes that brought up in my mind at the moment, I realized that my fists were clenched so tight that they were shaking against my laptop. My fury lit a fire in the pounding in my chest. The only thing that kept me from barging into the bathroom and slamming his head into the wall a few times for good measure was when my eyes traveled to the comments under the video.
The first few were just stupid statements like: “oh hes hawt” and “wut a prety voice.” Those were crap, of course, and made me even angrier, but one in particular caught my eye.
Theyrereal16 said: “Usually, when I see videos like these, it is blatantly obvious that it isn’t really a hidden camera or that the subject actually knows that he/she is being filmed. This one made me blush. That guy really had no idea, does he? Hope you got his permission after the fact! :/” There are three categories for comments: turn on, turn off, or whatever, and this one was under ‘turn on.’ For some reason, I got the feeling that this person-had to be a woman, by the way-had more to it than that.
Tingling heat licked up my neck and over the tips of my ears. My main thought was “not, fair, not fair, not FAIR! He can’t do this, he did not do this,” and behind that, I wanted to yell at someone. I needed to express myself and not have to deal with what no doubt would be Dean’s smug, “gotcha” smirk. Without really thinking, I made an account on the site. I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t free, but you had to have an account to reply to comments. I made my username something easy that came off the top of my head. Looking back on it, “littlebrother” wasn’t one of my better ideas.
Opening up the comment box, I started to type my reply. The last thing I expected was for theyrereal16 to hold up a conversation with me that would actually last a few days on the comment boards and then another week over email.
theyrereal16(23-08-2005 01:55:32 EST): Usually, when I see videos like these, it is blatantly obvious that it isn’t really a hidden camera or that the subject actually knows that he/she is being filmed. This one made me blush. That guy really had no idea, does he? Hope you got his permission after the fact! :/
littlebrother(23-08-2005 06:22:01 EST): That video is of ME. And no, he didn’t get my permission!
theyrereal16(24-08-2005 12:16:47 EST): Oh crap, really? O.o
littlebrother(24-08-2005 12:21:19 EST): Really. Apparently, the dick doesn’t get the concept of privacy. This is his idea of a practical joke. He set it as my homepage on my laptop.
theyrereal16(24-08-2005 12:23:00 EST): So your brother is winchester214?
littlebrother(24-08-2005 15:09:26 EST): Yes, unfortunately.
theyrereal16(24-08-2005 15:14:56 EST): And he just snapped a video of you jerking off behind your back and used it as a joke?
littlebrother(24-08-2005 15:16:27 EST): pretty much, yeah.
theyrereal16(24-08-2005 17:17:06 EST): And you kicked his ass, right?
littlebrother(24-08-2005 15:27:30 EST): …nope. I didn’t say anything about it. My theory is that if I keep reacting, it’ll just encourage this behavior.
theyrereal16(24-08-2005 15:30:42 EST): ;P Babe, he’s not a five-year-old (or at least, I don’t think he is). The last thing you should do is ignore this.
littlebrother(24-08-2005 15:31:59 EST): If you knew him, you wouldn’t be so quick to defend his maturity.
theyrereal16(25-08-2005 12:34:56 EST): Maybe that is true, but if I were you, I would be planning my revenge like two days ago, when he posted the damn thing.
littlebrother(25-08-2005 16:34:10 EST): I don’t know what I would do.
theyrereal16(25-08-2005 21:56:07 EST): Well, do you have an email address or IM that he doesn’t have access to?
littlebrother(26-08-2005 04:09:34 EST): Yes.
theyrereal16(26-08-2005 04:10:54 EST): I’ll help you think of something where he won’t be able to see it, yeah? ^_~
littlebrother(26-08-2005 04:11:20 EST): Wonderful idea!
Theyrereal16-aka candi.johnson@hotmail.com, aka candi-cane on LiveJournal with the erotic, “slash” userpic-is a genius. In a little less than a week, we made it through the entire plan with even the smallest necessary detail. Hell, if I thought about it too much, I’d probably come to the conclusion that she has done this sort of thing before…which means she should probably be in jail right now…
Anyway, the only thing that Candi overlooked was that, while my brother is so full of hot air that he could probably float up like a Zeppelin if he didn’t wear steel-toed work boots, he still has the potential of being one hundred and seventy pounds of dead weight when unconscious. Awkwardly, I worked the door to our motel room open while balancing a doped up, snoring big brother over my shoulders. I saw my computer blinking its brand name as the screensaver being that I’d left it on before I left with Dean. Being that I was a bit grumpy, I spent the entire, uneasy march over to the bed planning out a very nasty email reply expressing just how much I wanted to dump a two hundred pound sand bag on her and see how she liked it.
With a soft, heavy thud, Dean rolled nicely off of my shoulders and hit the bed-limbs splaying chaotically where they would. I watched his eyelids flutter softly beneath the lids and then the way his chest rose and fell with his quick, deep, yet tired breaths. All animosity towards my internet pen pal was immediately forgotten. Without her, I wouldn’t have been there, ready to have my deserved revenge on the brother that wronged me. If it hadn’t been for her coaching, I could never have developed the balls the pull the stunt that I did at the bar, or continue with my intentions for tonight.
Sure, there was still the little voice in the back of my head that was my conscience that was shouting at me: DRUGGING YOUR BROTHER IS WRONG!!! Hell, I was pretty sure that I was probably going a step too far, but Dean deserved this. Seeing that video of myself posted on the internet like that hurt in so many ways that I was still quaking with the aftershocks, and Candi was right. I couldn’t ignore this behavior. Dean needed to know that I drew a line somewhere. Tonight, I was going to tell him exactly where; I was going to give him the same taste of humiliation that he’d given me. This couldn’t be something small like catching him masturbating-I’ve done that once and all Dean did was give me a sultry smirk and jerk himself harder.
I cast a lingering glance at my brother lying still on the bed. His shirt had ridden up beneath his coat and both of his hip bones peeked up over the edge of his jeans’ waistband. Carefully, I considered my next move. If I didn’t want to fuck this up, I had to move fast because I didn’t give him that much tranquilizer. Giving myself a sharp nod to quell the butterflies fluttering about in my stomach, I moved to the bedside table for the supplies I had stowed in there earlier. I placed two coils of rope on the bed and a white tube on the nightstand for later. Then, my attention was all Dean’s.
Gently, I grasped his shoulders and pulled him up. I probably didn’t necessarily have to be this careful with him-he was out cold-but going slow gave me the opportunity to touch him. God doesn’t even know how long I’ve wanted to touch him. Hell, I’m not sure I know. It was just something that I noticed one day, maybe towards starting high school. After years of the tingle in my fingers where I’d just felt his skin, I finally realized that I wanted to touch him…And you cannot comprehend how hard it is not to.
One of Dean’s traits is that he knows no shame. Working his jacket and his over shirt down his shoulders, I let my eyes wander over his blank, soft expression. Right now, he looked so different from the kind of person that I knew he was during the day. This sleeping man I was holding wasn’t the type of guy to waltz around in nothing just for the sake of shock-value. By the innocence deceptively playing across his face, I almost forgot that he was the kind of guy to record something like masturbation and then put it on the internet for kicks.
I felt the heat of the blush coating my face for the umpteenth time since discovering that damn video and my hands clenched into fists in his thin T-shirt. Screw his soft body and damn pretty face. The boiling heat of my anger rolled over in my stomach again. This wasn’t just a stray video that invaded my privacy that I was revenging now. I’d gotten to thinking, and this was years of the teases and more people than just Dean. This was so far from society’s definition of acceptable that it was my sweet little revenge on the world for seeing me as a freak. With that in mind, I gripped Dean’s chin and pressed my lips against his.
Sure, it wasn’t really a kiss-couldn’t be categorized as such being that he was completely unresponsive. However, that also made it easy to swipe my tongue inside, lick at the moist warmth of his mouth and taste the liquor. Must have been thirteen years since the first time I had imagined doing that, and the idea of how much of a middle finger it was to the rest of the fucking world made my task just a bit less iffy.
“I’m not going overboard,” I whispered in his ear as I peeled his shirt up over his head. Without thinking, I dragged my hand over the expanse of his chest down to his abdomen, just above his jeans. My eyes wandered and I noticed something that made me smile. There was a very prominent protrusion from the front of his pants. There are some things that even a tranq can’t prevent.
Laying him back on the bed, I leaned against him, my cheek just inches away from his barely parted lips. I could feel his choppy, quick breaths hit me like warm splashes of water. For the first time since we came up with this plan, I actually felt good about its impending execution. A smile tugging the corners of my mouth up, I picked up the rope lengths.
---
I could tell he was waking up by the sounds he was making and that he was finally moving. It was a bit laughable, all the things I had the opportunity to do to him while he was out. I looked and saw his eyes flutter open about the time I had my tongue pressed against his hard palate and my hand down the front of his pants. The uncertain, vulnerable expression looked good on him. My free hand went up to cup his jaw and hold him fast in my kiss-just in case, you know-and after the haze of drugs started to clear up in his green-green eyes, I could tell that uncertain and vulnerable was coming to a quick, tragic end. Before it could completely disappear, however, I gave the head of his hard cock a tight squeeze.
Dean’s body jumped against me as he made a sharp what the fucking hell!? sound against my lips. The surprise apparently wasn’t enough to stop his hips from stuttering up into my grasp. At that, I had to smile.
“Sammy, what the fuck?”
When he ripped his head away, I let him. I could tell that the movement sent the room spinning for a few seconds. “It’s Sam.” And okay, I’m not the most forceful guy in the world, but that tone of voice right there…Dean’s eyes went wide. I was proud of it.
“This isn’t funny!” I’m pretty sure that this was the point that he realized he was shirtless. His elbows jerked toward one another as if he was trying to bring them together to cover himself. Then, the situation dawned on him, and slowly but surely, he looked upwards at his bound hands. “The hell do you think you’re doing!?”
I admit it. I chuckled at him. Hey, I was feeling a bit smug and a lot more accomplished at making him flustered for a change. “I just realized that I have a webcam, is all,” I stated simply.
“Don’t you fucking-!”
His head snapped to the side, staring wide-eyed at where my laptop was set up. The camera program was running so that a mirror image of us reflected on the screen. The view was perfect-much better than any hidden camera phone would be able to manage. I could see the massive expanse of his muscular chest
“Shut up, Dean,” I whispered in his ear, letting my tongue trace lightly across the shell.
“I swear to god if you don’t get the fuck offa me now, I am going to kick-”
As abruptly as I could, I dragged his head back my way and sealed my lips over his. It was ten times more enjoyable than when he had been unconscious. Now, even with his struggles, I had some reaction to my tongue pressing between his lips, my hand sliding under his ass. He let out a squeak that he would definitely deny later and I sucked the sound out of his mouth. Pulling his hips up, I circled the fingers of my other hand around the thick shaft of his dick and stroked down to the tip.
“Hmmno!” Dean tried to speak against my mouth. His body shuddered against the restraints on his arms and he bucked against me. I could tell that the movement was ambiguous-sure, he wanted to get away; it was just a coincidence that it slid his cock through my hand again.
I didn’t even try to hide my amusement. Lapping playfully at his teeth, then his lips, I let him hear the laughter in my voice. The thing about Dean is that he’s too prideful, too vain. I’m not sure that he can see through his own desperate need for attention and how sometimes it just hurts. Sometimes it just makes my heart ache and makes me want to dropkick him for good measure about fifty times.
I reached up and tangled my fingers in with his bound hands, teasing the three knuckles of all of his digits, one by one. Being busy with trying to kick me off of him, Dean didn’t notice at first. He didn’t even move his hands at all. Abruptly, I squeezed his fingers, kind of crushing his bones against each other. He winced. I like the beautiful shape of his lips in that grimace, and I let my other set of nails scratch over his left pectoral muscle. With a sharp knick over his nipple, I drew a high-pitched noise out of his throat.
Delicious, minty heat spilled into my gut at his following whimper. “What was that, Dean?”
From this close range, my eyes were only focused on the way his bright, green irises peeked wrathfully from under his eyelashes. “Christo,” he whispered again, a harsh tint to his voice. I could see the blatantly displayed fury in his expression. However, I saw none of the disgust or horror that should have been trademark of someone about to be raped by his brother.
“I’m fine, Dean,” I assured him snidely. That was such a typical Dean thing to do: check for possession. I couldn’t help thinking that he figured that I had to be a demon right now because “no way does little Sammy have the balls to pull something like this.” That was probably just bullshit born of my week-nurtured ager, but I was too busy putting Dean in his place to worry about trivialities like that.
“Can’t-”
“Shut up,” I snapped, digging my knee down between his thighs and pressing against his jean-clad groin. His entire body jerked against me.
“No, Sam, you can’t do this!”
“Why not?” His next words caught in his throat when I ripped open his fly to pull down his pants. “I think I have every right to after the stunt you pulled. Besides…” Despite his increasing struggles, I yanked to material away from his hips and stared at his bare lower half. More accurately, I stared at his hard cock, standing tall like a stiff, fleshy pole from his body. “…this really doesn’t look like you want me to stop.”
I could see the blush creep onto his face like the delicious thing that it was and man was this sweet. Sure, it was risky business, seducing my brother. I was running a real chance of breaking those thin lines that kept us together right now. I clung to my thoughts of revenge and let them drive me, but really? I wanted him…like this…hard and writhing under me. And I’d be kidding myself if I pretended that I didn’t know all the reasons he could hate me later. When all of this was said and done, Dean had a right and reason to leave my ass.
Sitting back, I leant down slightly and took his throbbing cock in my hand. “It’s okay, Dean.”
By the look on his face: it really wasn’t. “Fuck that! This isn’t in the same country as ‘okay,’ damn it! GET OFF!”
Doing my best to ignore his protests, I rubbed a hand down his hip and leaned down farther. “I’m telling you,” I tried to keep my voice level. It was pretty difficult with his dick mere inches from my face now. “Dude, it’s okay if you want me as much as I want you.”
“Off!” He insisted loudly, blatantly paying no mind to my attempt to calm him.
“No,” I snapped, trying for harsh and mostly hitting patronizing. “Damn it, Dean! I’m not going to put up with your shit anymore. I’m not going to smile and take it when you mess with me, I’m not going to just ignore the weird looks, the malicious snickers or your damned cover ups. Listen to me, bitch!” This time, when he turned away, I grabbed his jaw in a bruising grasp and forced him to look me straight in the face. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your jokes, fuck your macho ‘I need to overcompensate to stay in denial’ attitude. I don’t want to roll over and let you walk on me, so right now, you’re going to listen to me and you’re going to listen well. We live in motel rooms; we’re on the road more often than we stay in one place; we know about five people in the world who we would actually talk to in sentences other than ‘have you seen anything strange?’ and ‘where did he die?’ Between the two of us, we’ve stacked up more sins than a two-dollar crack whore.
“At the end of the day, all we have is each other and if you keep pulling this asinine, bullshit routine, you’re not even gonna have that. Now, I love you. I mean I love you, in a way that would probably send the soccer moms screaming in the other direction. And damn, but…” I let the smile fall back on my face to break the tense air of my tangent, and my hand gripped tightly on the velvety smooth, stiff pulse of his cock and he bucked into it despite himself. I could see the flicker of humiliation in his eyes. “…I’m starting to think that you might feel the same way.”
Entire body tensed up like a guitar string, Dean took deep breaths through his nose and looked up at me with pleading and confused eyes. This vulnerable look wasn’t something I was used to seeing on him, but it was definitely something worth getting used to. Uncertainly, he rolled his eyes to the side, maybe trying to catch a glance at my computer screen and thus the camera that was still most assuredly running. “Sam, I…”
“Don’t.” His voice was just close enough to lost and scared as I needed him. “Just admit it, Dean. Admit that you think dirty thoughts about your baby brother. Admit just how much you want me to fuck you.”
He whimpered. Dean whimpered, and his cock all but jumped in my hand at my suggestion. So I squeezed him in response and dragged my hand a little along his skin. “Sammy!” This time his voice came out a dry rasp and I couldn’t help but reward him a little bit. I leaned over him and twisted my wrist in a few light strokes.
“Say it,” I told him, gently and right against the skin of his inner thigh. “Tell me why you took that video of me, the real reason.”
“I-” The quavering of his voice was only a huge turn on. I bet he must have found it damned distracting that my tongue was tracing little patterns up the sensitive skin in the crease between his thigh and pelvis. “Sammy, I…”
I closed my mouth over his ball sac and sucked lightly. On cue, his body went rigid, hips lifted just millimeters off of the bed. I could hear the strain of the ropes on the headboard and his soft, beautiful breathing that barely licked the delicacy of whines. “Tell me,” I insisted casually, as if I wasn’t lapping at the skin of his sac like it was the best damn lollipop I’d ever had. With a smirk, I let my teeth ghost over the sensitive organ.
Dean bucked up like a bronco and threw his head back again. “I…because…fuck!” I liked this, that I had reduced my loud-mouthed brother to one-word incoherence. It made my confidence soar above a common bound. Still, for the sake of having him answer me completely, I gave myself the satisfaction of one more, long suck on his balls before I lifted my head and looked him in the eyes.
Chest heaving, lips quivering, legs splayed and twitched, he looked down at me with half-lidded eyes. His Pecs were bunched up and his shoulders all stiff from the bindings and it occurred to me vaguely that it must have been uncomfortable to be lying like that. However, I had more pressing matters to worry about. For instance, how many kisses it would take to get Dean’s full, bee-stung lips to bruise, and whether or not this was the right moment to shove a finger up his ass. I figured ‘no’ to the latter and maybe…twenty on the former. For a moment, all that my eyes could see was the flustered swipe of his tongue over his lower lip before he gulped and tried to answer me.
It was hard, especially for someone like Dean. While he searched for the right words somewhere between “Sam” and “well…” his face went from flushed to blushing. “I just…you didn’t know…Sammy, it was just…” And then he stopped, looked away and let out a heavy sigh. “Because I liked watching you jerk off.”
My smile must have radiated confidence and “I told you so” because Dean groaned loudly and it wasn’t just from my fingers playing once more over his erection. “Please don’t do this to me, Sam,” he mumbled, eyes falling closed.
“Do what?” I challenged haughtily.
“This…don’t make me…” He grunted and bit the inside of his lip when. “Don’t make me want you like this.”
And there it was. I had caused a natural disaster in Dean’s psyche and uprooted the deep-rooted insecurity that I knew had existed. It was like my hand had grown claws and dug in from where it lay on his chest and ripped open his heart’s hidden recesses for the world to see. Or at least, for me to see. That was all mine. The quiet tone, whimpering just above a whisper, with which Dean expressed how much he just didn’t want to want me-how much he wanted to just ignore it and pass it off as another “freak thing” that our family tended to develop-that was all mine. I wasn’t giving that up, his broken will, his destroyed defense. I had been the one to strip and look my fill at what he must have been hiding for ages, and now it was time to not only put him back together, but to make him mine for good.
I pulled off his jeans all the way and settled in between his tense legs.
“I can’t help it, Dean,” I told him soothingly, “I can’t help what you feel for me, but I can reciprocate. I can love you back, want you…just the same way you do me.”
“No,” he insisted.
“Yes.” Almost tenderly, I stroked my hand up his chest and leaned over him, the slightest ghost of a touch on chest on chest. He gasped lightly. “I’m a freak. You call me that often enough. We both are freaks, and there is no way in hell that we will ever fit in, we won’t ever assimilate to the norm. So why do you care so much? Why do you sneak around with jokes and videos? Why don’t you just ask to watch; ask me to show you just how much I love you? I’d do that for you, Dean. Just for you.”
Now his eyes were wide with something other than a desperate urge to get away. I could still see the denial and fear, but it was a faded picture in the backs of his bright green irises. “Sammy, I-”
“And now I’m going to bring this whole shebang to an ultimatum,” saying these words was hard when I knew what they would lead up to. I hadn’t planned tonight to get all touchy-feely, chick-flick, talk-about-your-feelings, and console-your-brother-even-though-this-is-supposed-to-be-revenge. That wasn’t what I’d meant to do when I slipped the tranquilizer into his drink, or even when I tied his hands to the head board. And I hadn’t banked on Dean mirroring the feelings that I’d kept hidden from him. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I was supposed to just fuck him stupid while he was still doped up and then laugh when he woke up confused and post the vid on the internet half-hoping he found it and half-hoping he didn’t. Now, though, I had another agenda, and I had to make myself clear. “I’m willing to love you. I mean, I already love you more than anyone on the planet, but I’m willing to show you my dirty, little secret and come out of the closet, just for you, Dean. I’ll do that, but you have to do something for me. You have to admit it; you have to stop with the waitresses and barmaids; you have to quit getting your kicks behind my back when I’m right here. I’m always here. Maybe not before, at Stanford, when I was too busy trying to flip Dad off, but I’m here now. And Dean...
“No more cruel jokes on my sexuality…because they did hurt, they did mean something. They do mean something. You can’t call me ‘prissy-boy Francis’ now that I know that you get off on being tied down by your baby brother.” For just a moment, he opened his mouth like he was going to make some indignant rebuttal, but curiously, he closed it again. Then he looked away and the blush on his face was back…and creeping down his neck and over his chest. “So that’s it. Those are my demands. And you can agree to them and stop hiding from me, or I’ll just untie you, let you get dressed and I’ll catch the next bus away from here for good this time.”
“No!” His attention snapped back onto me, and he lacked the blushing uncertainty of moments before. Now, all I could see on his face was a seething determination that sprung out of what I knew was desperation to keep me with him. “Don’t you dare leave me, damn it. You can’t fucking use that as leverage. You can’t leave. I won’t let you, hell, I’ll drag you back kicking and screaming and keep you in the trunk of the fucking Impala if I have to.”
“Strong words coming from the man who I just stripped naked…and kissed…and almost gave a blowjob to…all against his will.”
“Fuck you!” But this time, there was no anger, or disgust covering up his damaged ego this time. There was just his damaged ego and a slight hint of ironic laughter in his voice. That must have been a good sign because I hadn’t gotten up yet. The vibe I was getting was to stay the fuck right there and wait. Wait for me to respond; wait for him to give the final sentence on whether or not I would ever let myself see him again.
As there was no question-if he rejected me-that I would never see him again. If after all of this, he still couldn’t see that he was allowed to love me, then my heart probably wouldn’t be able to take this. That’s why Candi’s plan was supposed to be strictly revenge. That’s why I shouldn’t have gotten him completely sobered up with my ministrations. Here I was, at the edge. I was standing on the line of a final separation and all because of that stupid, fucking video and one wonderful lady named Candi Johnson. Hell…
“Hell…” Dean murmured. At first, his eyes avoided mine, but then I caught his gaze and he held it. He looked at me and sighed heavily and ambiguously. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
But he didn’t give me a chance to answer, or really think straight. He kissed me. He kissed me. Dean kissed me, on the lips, with tongue, of his own free will. Suddenly, I was free-falling, flying straight into the abyss and taking Dean with me. Fuck the world we left behind and the rules and social standards. Fuck sin and freaks and goddamned insecurity. But most of all, thank the heavens for one Candi Johnson; and thank whatever powers that be that Dean put me on the internet.
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Wincest, humor
Rating: NC17 for language and sexing
Pairing/Character(s): Sam/Dean, OFC, Bon Scott (kinda ^_^;)
Summary: It's my computer, damn it. (Sam's POV)
Warnings Advertisements: incest, man on man sexing, horrible singing of an AC/DC song, implied roofie.
Note: Okay, Becki and I got this idea from a video that someone somewhere found on the internet and posted on LJ. It was of a guy who sounded (and kinda looked) like Sam Winchester (or rather, Jared Padalecki). He was masturbating (naughty Becki for sending me porn! :P). Anyway, this idea sprung up and I wrote most of it rather quickly. Then, I used it to replace another challenge that she gave me a while ago and she let me, so I decided to sneak in a surprise for her that encompasses the last half of the story. Man, that was a BITCH to write. I mean it. I was ALMOST done for the last month. And now I'm finally done and Becki's not annoyed anymore, so we can all sleep well at night, now, yeah? Well, except for me, cause I have insomnia, but you get the point. NOW to cease my pointless rambling! On with the fic!
My computer isn’t just for research. In fact, a very low percentage of my time spent using it is dedicated to studying of any kind-at least after I hooked back up with my brother. I have my MySpace, my FaceBook, DeviantArt, even a LiveJournal account. I check everything on a regular basis and then go watch TV shows on YouTube because let’s face it, motel cable sucks for everyone except Dean. He doesn’t count, he’s a porn-addict. And yeah, I’ve looked up porn before. Hell, I’m usually desperate and dying of blue balls, but I’ve even masturbated. Wow, big surprise. It isn’t like I’m a guy or anything. (Hint: that’s sarcasm).
Anyway, the point is, I’m not the naïve, genius, little book nerd that everyone takes me for. Genius, maybe; I’d admit to something like that. But Dean takes things like that to extremes and likes to pretend I’m still a teenager, going through puberty. If anyone in this family is anything reminiscent of a hormonal teenager, it’s my brother, damn it. I should be picking on him about being liable to contract every STD known to man; I shouldn’t be taunted for not being a slut like him.
The other day, I decided that it had to stop. I was going to fight back with this shit. My incentive was the last straw, and it was on my computer when I got back from McDonald’s with breakfast.
Totally unsuspecting, I walked inside and tossed the bag on the table. The shower was running in the other room. My fantastically groggy, brain deduced that Dean was in the shower. My routine of two hours of sleep had been catching up with me, and it took me a while to get past the fact that Dean’s clothes weren’t scattered across the floor. Usually, he walks to the bathroom, stripping as he goes. Or was he just putting on a show for me because he thought that seeing his very well-toned, tan, and yea, beautiful body freaked me out. Not that I have a thing for my brother, I just…kind of have a thing for my brother.
I sat down and pushed the bag of grease and bread that people like to call food to the side. My laptop was just where I left it: in its bag on the far side of the table near the window.
“See me riiiiide out of the sunset! On your…color TV screeeen.”
All of my thoughts just sort of stopped at that point. My fingers were curled under the top of my computer, ready to pull it open, and I just sort of…stopped. Really? Without thinking about it, I turned towards the bathroom door where the loud, slightly obnoxious voice was spilling forth. It was a bit like listening to someone impersonating a person who was trying to sing but failing miserably. Which is weird because I know that Dean can sing relatively well when he wants to. Either, right now he doesn’t want to, or he knows I’m back and is trying to annoy me.
“Out for all that I can get…if ya know what I meeeeeean!”
When he hit a particularly sour note, my vote rested on the latter. Rolling my eyes, I tried to ignore him and swung my laptop open smoothly on its hinges. Immediately, I noticed that something was off. The little orange light on the power button was flashing as if I’d left it on when I closed it last night…I hadn’t. Still, my brain was foggy enough to convince itself that maybe I had accidently closed it before it shut down all the way and it was being a pissy bitch about it, as it did sometimes.
“Women to the left of meeee…and women to the RIGHT!”
As I stabbed the tip of my finger gently on to the power button, I couldn’t help the mental image of Dean playing air-guitar, buck naked in the steaming spray of the shower. And yeah, not as arousing an image as you might think. In fact, the tiny bit of morning wood I had that morning was gone. The night before, I had sneaked a quick jerk-off session when Dean was asleep and the aftershocks lived through until morning…until I imagined Dean flapping in the wind with the force of his “rocking out” to an imaginary AC/DC. I pulled myself away from that subject, sighing in time with my computer’s fan as it kicked on.
“Ain’t got no GUN! Ain’t got no knife…don’t you start no fight…”
Okay, I know the song. Really, I do. I actually like AC/DC more than most of the other things Dean subjects me to in the car. So, I knew that the next part was going to probably be really, freaking, unnecessarily loud. It’s one thing hearing Bon Scott singing at the top of his lungs that he’s “dynamite,” and a complete other when Dean does it. As soon as I opened my internet and a page that was most definitely not my homepage opened, I heard a combination of the two assault my ears.
“’Cause I’m TNT, I’m dyno-MITE!”
Oh you son of a bitch… Before I did anything else, I checked the address bar and read ‘http://www.fantasti.cc etc. etc..’ The screen loaded as a video player, a bit like YouTube, but the layout was in grays and blacks. On the side was an add that read “who’s laughing now” with a graphic, moving image of two people fucking as if it was taken by a hidden camera. Then, the kicker was the actual video that was playing with AC/DC’s TNT in the background. I read the title out loud to myself.
“Caught little brother having fun on hidden camera phone.” My deep, warm blush wasn’t just from the fact that the video was so blatantly pornographic. It wasn’t even that the username that uploaded it was ‘winchester214,’ and thus obviously my brother. The thing that turned me bright red was that the video took place in a terrifyingly familiar hotel room and the moans were horrifyingly mine. For a few seconds, the sounds of “I’m TNT, and I win the FIGHT!” was drowned out and my attention was hooked solely on the image of myself, lying sprawled across my bed, with my hand wrapped around my dick-much like I had been last night.
In fact, I was immediately one hundred percent certain that my worst fears were realized and I was jerking off for the entire world to see.
Okay, I can take being taunted for my smarts, my height, and my looks. All the way through high school, I had to deal with that shit-the pranks, the bullies-and even after that, Dean playfully gave me a hard time. I can handle that, it’s what keeps life interesting, right? But this…Dean just went too far this time. This video was a deep violation of my privacy. And besides, he was supposed to be asleep, damn him!
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… Holy shit, I was on the internet, on a porn site, with my hand sliding over my dick like I’ve never seen a woman before. Watching it now, I realized that I had been a bit more vocal than I thought. In fact, I was moaning more that I usually would, considering my brother was ‘sleeping’ right next to me. Wait a second…Shit, I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that Dean actually took this video or that he took the time to doctor it-which means he definitely watched it more than a couple times.
Suddenly, I felt naked. My skin pricked up in little goose pimples all over as though I wasn’t wearing clothes outdoors in Alaska. If Dean walked in right then, I would have been completely bare before his eyes. After a few moments of “watch me explode” and how many innuendoes that brought up in my mind at the moment, I realized that my fists were clenched so tight that they were shaking against my laptop. My fury lit a fire in the pounding in my chest. The only thing that kept me from barging into the bathroom and slamming his head into the wall a few times for good measure was when my eyes traveled to the comments under the video.
The first few were just stupid statements like: “oh hes hawt” and “wut a prety voice.” Those were crap, of course, and made me even angrier, but one in particular caught my eye.
Theyrereal16 said: “Usually, when I see videos like these, it is blatantly obvious that it isn’t really a hidden camera or that the subject actually knows that he/she is being filmed. This one made me blush. That guy really had no idea, does he? Hope you got his permission after the fact! :/” There are three categories for comments: turn on, turn off, or whatever, and this one was under ‘turn on.’ For some reason, I got the feeling that this person-had to be a woman, by the way-had more to it than that.
Tingling heat licked up my neck and over the tips of my ears. My main thought was “not, fair, not fair, not FAIR! He can’t do this, he did not do this,” and behind that, I wanted to yell at someone. I needed to express myself and not have to deal with what no doubt would be Dean’s smug, “gotcha” smirk. Without really thinking, I made an account on the site. I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t free, but you had to have an account to reply to comments. I made my username something easy that came off the top of my head. Looking back on it, “littlebrother” wasn’t one of my better ideas.
Opening up the comment box, I started to type my reply. The last thing I expected was for theyrereal16 to hold up a conversation with me that would actually last a few days on the comment boards and then another week over email.
theyrereal16(23-08-2005 01:55:32 EST): Usually, when I see videos like these, it is blatantly obvious that it isn’t really a hidden camera or that the subject actually knows that he/she is being filmed. This one made me blush. That guy really had no idea, does he? Hope you got his permission after the fact! :/
littlebrother(23-08-2005 06:22:01 EST): That video is of ME. And no, he didn’t get my permission!
theyrereal16(24-08-2005 12:16:47 EST): Oh crap, really? O.o
littlebrother(24-08-2005 12:21:19 EST): Really. Apparently, the dick doesn’t get the concept of privacy. This is his idea of a practical joke. He set it as my homepage on my laptop.
theyrereal16(24-08-2005 12:23:00 EST): So your brother is winchester214?
littlebrother(24-08-2005 15:09:26 EST): Yes, unfortunately.
theyrereal16(24-08-2005 15:14:56 EST): And he just snapped a video of you jerking off behind your back and used it as a joke?
littlebrother(24-08-2005 15:16:27 EST): pretty much, yeah.
theyrereal16(24-08-2005 17:17:06 EST): And you kicked his ass, right?
littlebrother(24-08-2005 15:27:30 EST): …nope. I didn’t say anything about it. My theory is that if I keep reacting, it’ll just encourage this behavior.
theyrereal16(24-08-2005 15:30:42 EST): ;P Babe, he’s not a five-year-old (or at least, I don’t think he is). The last thing you should do is ignore this.
littlebrother(24-08-2005 15:31:59 EST): If you knew him, you wouldn’t be so quick to defend his maturity.
theyrereal16(25-08-2005 12:34:56 EST): Maybe that is true, but if I were you, I would be planning my revenge like two days ago, when he posted the damn thing.
littlebrother(25-08-2005 16:34:10 EST): I don’t know what I would do.
theyrereal16(25-08-2005 21:56:07 EST): Well, do you have an email address or IM that he doesn’t have access to?
littlebrother(26-08-2005 04:09:34 EST): Yes.
theyrereal16(26-08-2005 04:10:54 EST): I’ll help you think of something where he won’t be able to see it, yeah? ^_~
littlebrother(26-08-2005 04:11:20 EST): Wonderful idea!
Theyrereal16-aka candi.johnson@hotmail.com, aka candi-cane on LiveJournal with the erotic, “slash” userpic-is a genius. In a little less than a week, we made it through the entire plan with even the smallest necessary detail. Hell, if I thought about it too much, I’d probably come to the conclusion that she has done this sort of thing before…which means she should probably be in jail right now…
Anyway, the only thing that Candi overlooked was that, while my brother is so full of hot air that he could probably float up like a Zeppelin if he didn’t wear steel-toed work boots, he still has the potential of being one hundred and seventy pounds of dead weight when unconscious. Awkwardly, I worked the door to our motel room open while balancing a doped up, snoring big brother over my shoulders. I saw my computer blinking its brand name as the screensaver being that I’d left it on before I left with Dean. Being that I was a bit grumpy, I spent the entire, uneasy march over to the bed planning out a very nasty email reply expressing just how much I wanted to dump a two hundred pound sand bag on her and see how she liked it.
With a soft, heavy thud, Dean rolled nicely off of my shoulders and hit the bed-limbs splaying chaotically where they would. I watched his eyelids flutter softly beneath the lids and then the way his chest rose and fell with his quick, deep, yet tired breaths. All animosity towards my internet pen pal was immediately forgotten. Without her, I wouldn’t have been there, ready to have my deserved revenge on the brother that wronged me. If it hadn’t been for her coaching, I could never have developed the balls the pull the stunt that I did at the bar, or continue with my intentions for tonight.
Sure, there was still the little voice in the back of my head that was my conscience that was shouting at me: DRUGGING YOUR BROTHER IS WRONG!!! Hell, I was pretty sure that I was probably going a step too far, but Dean deserved this. Seeing that video of myself posted on the internet like that hurt in so many ways that I was still quaking with the aftershocks, and Candi was right. I couldn’t ignore this behavior. Dean needed to know that I drew a line somewhere. Tonight, I was going to tell him exactly where; I was going to give him the same taste of humiliation that he’d given me. This couldn’t be something small like catching him masturbating-I’ve done that once and all Dean did was give me a sultry smirk and jerk himself harder.
I cast a lingering glance at my brother lying still on the bed. His shirt had ridden up beneath his coat and both of his hip bones peeked up over the edge of his jeans’ waistband. Carefully, I considered my next move. If I didn’t want to fuck this up, I had to move fast because I didn’t give him that much tranquilizer. Giving myself a sharp nod to quell the butterflies fluttering about in my stomach, I moved to the bedside table for the supplies I had stowed in there earlier. I placed two coils of rope on the bed and a white tube on the nightstand for later. Then, my attention was all Dean’s.
Gently, I grasped his shoulders and pulled him up. I probably didn’t necessarily have to be this careful with him-he was out cold-but going slow gave me the opportunity to touch him. God doesn’t even know how long I’ve wanted to touch him. Hell, I’m not sure I know. It was just something that I noticed one day, maybe towards starting high school. After years of the tingle in my fingers where I’d just felt his skin, I finally realized that I wanted to touch him…And you cannot comprehend how hard it is not to.
One of Dean’s traits is that he knows no shame. Working his jacket and his over shirt down his shoulders, I let my eyes wander over his blank, soft expression. Right now, he looked so different from the kind of person that I knew he was during the day. This sleeping man I was holding wasn’t the type of guy to waltz around in nothing just for the sake of shock-value. By the innocence deceptively playing across his face, I almost forgot that he was the kind of guy to record something like masturbation and then put it on the internet for kicks.
I felt the heat of the blush coating my face for the umpteenth time since discovering that damn video and my hands clenched into fists in his thin T-shirt. Screw his soft body and damn pretty face. The boiling heat of my anger rolled over in my stomach again. This wasn’t just a stray video that invaded my privacy that I was revenging now. I’d gotten to thinking, and this was years of the teases and more people than just Dean. This was so far from society’s definition of acceptable that it was my sweet little revenge on the world for seeing me as a freak. With that in mind, I gripped Dean’s chin and pressed my lips against his.
Sure, it wasn’t really a kiss-couldn’t be categorized as such being that he was completely unresponsive. However, that also made it easy to swipe my tongue inside, lick at the moist warmth of his mouth and taste the liquor. Must have been thirteen years since the first time I had imagined doing that, and the idea of how much of a middle finger it was to the rest of the fucking world made my task just a bit less iffy.
“I’m not going overboard,” I whispered in his ear as I peeled his shirt up over his head. Without thinking, I dragged my hand over the expanse of his chest down to his abdomen, just above his jeans. My eyes wandered and I noticed something that made me smile. There was a very prominent protrusion from the front of his pants. There are some things that even a tranq can’t prevent.
Laying him back on the bed, I leaned against him, my cheek just inches away from his barely parted lips. I could feel his choppy, quick breaths hit me like warm splashes of water. For the first time since we came up with this plan, I actually felt good about its impending execution. A smile tugging the corners of my mouth up, I picked up the rope lengths.
---
I could tell he was waking up by the sounds he was making and that he was finally moving. It was a bit laughable, all the things I had the opportunity to do to him while he was out. I looked and saw his eyes flutter open about the time I had my tongue pressed against his hard palate and my hand down the front of his pants. The uncertain, vulnerable expression looked good on him. My free hand went up to cup his jaw and hold him fast in my kiss-just in case, you know-and after the haze of drugs started to clear up in his green-green eyes, I could tell that uncertain and vulnerable was coming to a quick, tragic end. Before it could completely disappear, however, I gave the head of his hard cock a tight squeeze.
Dean’s body jumped against me as he made a sharp what the fucking hell!? sound against my lips. The surprise apparently wasn’t enough to stop his hips from stuttering up into my grasp. At that, I had to smile.
“Sammy, what the fuck?”
When he ripped his head away, I let him. I could tell that the movement sent the room spinning for a few seconds. “It’s Sam.” And okay, I’m not the most forceful guy in the world, but that tone of voice right there…Dean’s eyes went wide. I was proud of it.
“This isn’t funny!” I’m pretty sure that this was the point that he realized he was shirtless. His elbows jerked toward one another as if he was trying to bring them together to cover himself. Then, the situation dawned on him, and slowly but surely, he looked upwards at his bound hands. “The hell do you think you’re doing!?”
I admit it. I chuckled at him. Hey, I was feeling a bit smug and a lot more accomplished at making him flustered for a change. “I just realized that I have a webcam, is all,” I stated simply.
“Don’t you fucking-!”
His head snapped to the side, staring wide-eyed at where my laptop was set up. The camera program was running so that a mirror image of us reflected on the screen. The view was perfect-much better than any hidden camera phone would be able to manage. I could see the massive expanse of his muscular chest
“Shut up, Dean,” I whispered in his ear, letting my tongue trace lightly across the shell.
“I swear to god if you don’t get the fuck offa me now, I am going to kick-”
As abruptly as I could, I dragged his head back my way and sealed my lips over his. It was ten times more enjoyable than when he had been unconscious. Now, even with his struggles, I had some reaction to my tongue pressing between his lips, my hand sliding under his ass. He let out a squeak that he would definitely deny later and I sucked the sound out of his mouth. Pulling his hips up, I circled the fingers of my other hand around the thick shaft of his dick and stroked down to the tip.
“Hmmno!” Dean tried to speak against my mouth. His body shuddered against the restraints on his arms and he bucked against me. I could tell that the movement was ambiguous-sure, he wanted to get away; it was just a coincidence that it slid his cock through my hand again.
I didn’t even try to hide my amusement. Lapping playfully at his teeth, then his lips, I let him hear the laughter in my voice. The thing about Dean is that he’s too prideful, too vain. I’m not sure that he can see through his own desperate need for attention and how sometimes it just hurts. Sometimes it just makes my heart ache and makes me want to dropkick him for good measure about fifty times.
I reached up and tangled my fingers in with his bound hands, teasing the three knuckles of all of his digits, one by one. Being busy with trying to kick me off of him, Dean didn’t notice at first. He didn’t even move his hands at all. Abruptly, I squeezed his fingers, kind of crushing his bones against each other. He winced. I like the beautiful shape of his lips in that grimace, and I let my other set of nails scratch over his left pectoral muscle. With a sharp knick over his nipple, I drew a high-pitched noise out of his throat.
Delicious, minty heat spilled into my gut at his following whimper. “What was that, Dean?”
From this close range, my eyes were only focused on the way his bright, green irises peeked wrathfully from under his eyelashes. “Christo,” he whispered again, a harsh tint to his voice. I could see the blatantly displayed fury in his expression. However, I saw none of the disgust or horror that should have been trademark of someone about to be raped by his brother.
“I’m fine, Dean,” I assured him snidely. That was such a typical Dean thing to do: check for possession. I couldn’t help thinking that he figured that I had to be a demon right now because “no way does little Sammy have the balls to pull something like this.” That was probably just bullshit born of my week-nurtured ager, but I was too busy putting Dean in his place to worry about trivialities like that.
“Can’t-”
“Shut up,” I snapped, digging my knee down between his thighs and pressing against his jean-clad groin. His entire body jerked against me.
“No, Sam, you can’t do this!”
“Why not?” His next words caught in his throat when I ripped open his fly to pull down his pants. “I think I have every right to after the stunt you pulled. Besides…” Despite his increasing struggles, I yanked to material away from his hips and stared at his bare lower half. More accurately, I stared at his hard cock, standing tall like a stiff, fleshy pole from his body. “…this really doesn’t look like you want me to stop.”
I could see the blush creep onto his face like the delicious thing that it was and man was this sweet. Sure, it was risky business, seducing my brother. I was running a real chance of breaking those thin lines that kept us together right now. I clung to my thoughts of revenge and let them drive me, but really? I wanted him…like this…hard and writhing under me. And I’d be kidding myself if I pretended that I didn’t know all the reasons he could hate me later. When all of this was said and done, Dean had a right and reason to leave my ass.
Sitting back, I leant down slightly and took his throbbing cock in my hand. “It’s okay, Dean.”
By the look on his face: it really wasn’t. “Fuck that! This isn’t in the same country as ‘okay,’ damn it! GET OFF!”
Doing my best to ignore his protests, I rubbed a hand down his hip and leaned down farther. “I’m telling you,” I tried to keep my voice level. It was pretty difficult with his dick mere inches from my face now. “Dude, it’s okay if you want me as much as I want you.”
“Off!” He insisted loudly, blatantly paying no mind to my attempt to calm him.
“No,” I snapped, trying for harsh and mostly hitting patronizing. “Damn it, Dean! I’m not going to put up with your shit anymore. I’m not going to smile and take it when you mess with me, I’m not going to just ignore the weird looks, the malicious snickers or your damned cover ups. Listen to me, bitch!” This time, when he turned away, I grabbed his jaw in a bruising grasp and forced him to look me straight in the face. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your jokes, fuck your macho ‘I need to overcompensate to stay in denial’ attitude. I don’t want to roll over and let you walk on me, so right now, you’re going to listen to me and you’re going to listen well. We live in motel rooms; we’re on the road more often than we stay in one place; we know about five people in the world who we would actually talk to in sentences other than ‘have you seen anything strange?’ and ‘where did he die?’ Between the two of us, we’ve stacked up more sins than a two-dollar crack whore.
“At the end of the day, all we have is each other and if you keep pulling this asinine, bullshit routine, you’re not even gonna have that. Now, I love you. I mean I love you, in a way that would probably send the soccer moms screaming in the other direction. And damn, but…” I let the smile fall back on my face to break the tense air of my tangent, and my hand gripped tightly on the velvety smooth, stiff pulse of his cock and he bucked into it despite himself. I could see the flicker of humiliation in his eyes. “…I’m starting to think that you might feel the same way.”
Entire body tensed up like a guitar string, Dean took deep breaths through his nose and looked up at me with pleading and confused eyes. This vulnerable look wasn’t something I was used to seeing on him, but it was definitely something worth getting used to. Uncertainly, he rolled his eyes to the side, maybe trying to catch a glance at my computer screen and thus the camera that was still most assuredly running. “Sam, I…”
“Don’t.” His voice was just close enough to lost and scared as I needed him. “Just admit it, Dean. Admit that you think dirty thoughts about your baby brother. Admit just how much you want me to fuck you.”
He whimpered. Dean whimpered, and his cock all but jumped in my hand at my suggestion. So I squeezed him in response and dragged my hand a little along his skin. “Sammy!” This time his voice came out a dry rasp and I couldn’t help but reward him a little bit. I leaned over him and twisted my wrist in a few light strokes.
“Say it,” I told him, gently and right against the skin of his inner thigh. “Tell me why you took that video of me, the real reason.”
“I-” The quavering of his voice was only a huge turn on. I bet he must have found it damned distracting that my tongue was tracing little patterns up the sensitive skin in the crease between his thigh and pelvis. “Sammy, I…”
I closed my mouth over his ball sac and sucked lightly. On cue, his body went rigid, hips lifted just millimeters off of the bed. I could hear the strain of the ropes on the headboard and his soft, beautiful breathing that barely licked the delicacy of whines. “Tell me,” I insisted casually, as if I wasn’t lapping at the skin of his sac like it was the best damn lollipop I’d ever had. With a smirk, I let my teeth ghost over the sensitive organ.
Dean bucked up like a bronco and threw his head back again. “I…because…fuck!” I liked this, that I had reduced my loud-mouthed brother to one-word incoherence. It made my confidence soar above a common bound. Still, for the sake of having him answer me completely, I gave myself the satisfaction of one more, long suck on his balls before I lifted my head and looked him in the eyes.
Chest heaving, lips quivering, legs splayed and twitched, he looked down at me with half-lidded eyes. His Pecs were bunched up and his shoulders all stiff from the bindings and it occurred to me vaguely that it must have been uncomfortable to be lying like that. However, I had more pressing matters to worry about. For instance, how many kisses it would take to get Dean’s full, bee-stung lips to bruise, and whether or not this was the right moment to shove a finger up his ass. I figured ‘no’ to the latter and maybe…twenty on the former. For a moment, all that my eyes could see was the flustered swipe of his tongue over his lower lip before he gulped and tried to answer me.
It was hard, especially for someone like Dean. While he searched for the right words somewhere between “Sam” and “well…” his face went from flushed to blushing. “I just…you didn’t know…Sammy, it was just…” And then he stopped, looked away and let out a heavy sigh. “Because I liked watching you jerk off.”
My smile must have radiated confidence and “I told you so” because Dean groaned loudly and it wasn’t just from my fingers playing once more over his erection. “Please don’t do this to me, Sam,” he mumbled, eyes falling closed.
“Do what?” I challenged haughtily.
“This…don’t make me…” He grunted and bit the inside of his lip when. “Don’t make me want you like this.”
And there it was. I had caused a natural disaster in Dean’s psyche and uprooted the deep-rooted insecurity that I knew had existed. It was like my hand had grown claws and dug in from where it lay on his chest and ripped open his heart’s hidden recesses for the world to see. Or at least, for me to see. That was all mine. The quiet tone, whimpering just above a whisper, with which Dean expressed how much he just didn’t want to want me-how much he wanted to just ignore it and pass it off as another “freak thing” that our family tended to develop-that was all mine. I wasn’t giving that up, his broken will, his destroyed defense. I had been the one to strip and look my fill at what he must have been hiding for ages, and now it was time to not only put him back together, but to make him mine for good.
I pulled off his jeans all the way and settled in between his tense legs.
“I can’t help it, Dean,” I told him soothingly, “I can’t help what you feel for me, but I can reciprocate. I can love you back, want you…just the same way you do me.”
“No,” he insisted.
“Yes.” Almost tenderly, I stroked my hand up his chest and leaned over him, the slightest ghost of a touch on chest on chest. He gasped lightly. “I’m a freak. You call me that often enough. We both are freaks, and there is no way in hell that we will ever fit in, we won’t ever assimilate to the norm. So why do you care so much? Why do you sneak around with jokes and videos? Why don’t you just ask to watch; ask me to show you just how much I love you? I’d do that for you, Dean. Just for you.”
Now his eyes were wide with something other than a desperate urge to get away. I could still see the denial and fear, but it was a faded picture in the backs of his bright green irises. “Sammy, I-”
“And now I’m going to bring this whole shebang to an ultimatum,” saying these words was hard when I knew what they would lead up to. I hadn’t planned tonight to get all touchy-feely, chick-flick, talk-about-your-feelings, and console-your-brother-even-though-this-is-supposed-to-be-revenge. That wasn’t what I’d meant to do when I slipped the tranquilizer into his drink, or even when I tied his hands to the head board. And I hadn’t banked on Dean mirroring the feelings that I’d kept hidden from him. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I was supposed to just fuck him stupid while he was still doped up and then laugh when he woke up confused and post the vid on the internet half-hoping he found it and half-hoping he didn’t. Now, though, I had another agenda, and I had to make myself clear. “I’m willing to love you. I mean, I already love you more than anyone on the planet, but I’m willing to show you my dirty, little secret and come out of the closet, just for you, Dean. I’ll do that, but you have to do something for me. You have to admit it; you have to stop with the waitresses and barmaids; you have to quit getting your kicks behind my back when I’m right here. I’m always here. Maybe not before, at Stanford, when I was too busy trying to flip Dad off, but I’m here now. And Dean...
“No more cruel jokes on my sexuality…because they did hurt, they did mean something. They do mean something. You can’t call me ‘prissy-boy Francis’ now that I know that you get off on being tied down by your baby brother.” For just a moment, he opened his mouth like he was going to make some indignant rebuttal, but curiously, he closed it again. Then he looked away and the blush on his face was back…and creeping down his neck and over his chest. “So that’s it. Those are my demands. And you can agree to them and stop hiding from me, or I’ll just untie you, let you get dressed and I’ll catch the next bus away from here for good this time.”
“No!” His attention snapped back onto me, and he lacked the blushing uncertainty of moments before. Now, all I could see on his face was a seething determination that sprung out of what I knew was desperation to keep me with him. “Don’t you dare leave me, damn it. You can’t fucking use that as leverage. You can’t leave. I won’t let you, hell, I’ll drag you back kicking and screaming and keep you in the trunk of the fucking Impala if I have to.”
“Strong words coming from the man who I just stripped naked…and kissed…and almost gave a blowjob to…all against his will.”
“Fuck you!” But this time, there was no anger, or disgust covering up his damaged ego this time. There was just his damaged ego and a slight hint of ironic laughter in his voice. That must have been a good sign because I hadn’t gotten up yet. The vibe I was getting was to stay the fuck right there and wait. Wait for me to respond; wait for him to give the final sentence on whether or not I would ever let myself see him again.
As there was no question-if he rejected me-that I would never see him again. If after all of this, he still couldn’t see that he was allowed to love me, then my heart probably wouldn’t be able to take this. That’s why Candi’s plan was supposed to be strictly revenge. That’s why I shouldn’t have gotten him completely sobered up with my ministrations. Here I was, at the edge. I was standing on the line of a final separation and all because of that stupid, fucking video and one wonderful lady named Candi Johnson. Hell…
“Hell…” Dean murmured. At first, his eyes avoided mine, but then I caught his gaze and he held it. He looked at me and sighed heavily and ambiguously. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
But he didn’t give me a chance to answer, or really think straight. He kissed me. He kissed me. Dean kissed me, on the lips, with tongue, of his own free will. Suddenly, I was free-falling, flying straight into the abyss and taking Dean with me. Fuck the world we left behind and the rules and social standards. Fuck sin and freaks and goddamned insecurity. But most of all, thank the heavens for one Candi Johnson; and thank whatever powers that be that Dean put me on the internet.