FIC: Taste Your Blasphemy 1/2
Title: Taste Your Blasphemy
Author: placeofinsanity
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/Character: Sam/Dean, Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Author who art is for/Artist who did your art: deadflowers5
Kink: control, orgasm control/denial, forced orgasm, toys/dildos, BDSM, dom/subs, marking, orgasm on command, coming without being touched, voyeurism.
Notes/Warnings: slash, incest, angst, BDSM, a light coloring of dub-con
Summary: AU-Season 6. Sam comes back after a year in Hell, but instead of being soulless, he finds himself changed on a level he never expected. Unable to give control to someone else, he takes away that control to make himself feel safe. Dean offers himself up to keep his brother safe, and finds their connection stronger than ever.
Art Post Here! (Go look at them, they're shiny!!)
*
I need your scent all over me
I need to taste your blasphemy
I need to know with certainty
The nectar was worth the squeeze
- Otep, “Special Pets”
*
Part One
The first time Dean sees it, he almost doesn’t recognize Sam. The men in the scene are all shirtless, but only one is naked. It’s not Sam, but Dean is still shocked. That’s his baby brother in the leather pants, his baby brother, dick exposed and hard through the fly of said leather pants.
It takes a minute for his brain to recognize the images his eyes are seeing. It’s like the really bad hunts, where everyone is mutilated or in pieces. His mind just doesn’t get it. Dean figures it out after five or so minutes, a hot flush creeping up his neck when he realizes why.
Porn.
And fuck, but that’s embarrassing. His brother is practically re-enacting a BDSM porn flick... only there are no chicks.
The look on Sam’s face... shit, it’s molten, it’s want and hunger. He’s so absorbed in watching him that when someone grabs his shoulder, he nearly takes the hand there off at the wrist. “You interested?” the man connected to the wrist asks. “He’s been here every night this weekend.”
That explains a lot, Dean thinks, and shakes his head. “Just watching.”
Mystery man laughs, and winks. “Feeling intimidated?” Dean makes a face, which makes the mystery man laugh harder. “Not your usual scene, I can see that. Natural sub?”
Dean snorts. “Not so much.”
Something on the stage draws Dean’s attention away from the mystery man. Sam is easing something into his victim’s ass. The whole crowd goes silent, like they’re all holding their breath. Once Sam is finished seating whatever it is inside the bound man, it becomes instantly obvious that it’s a vibrator.
A loud buzz fills the room and the guy instantly starts moaning. Sam’s lounging back in a chair, still hard and... obvious. The ‘sub’ is writhing now, arching against his bonds. The buzzing goes up a notch and so does the pitch of the guy’s moans.
Mystery man grabs at Dean, hauling him back against his chest. “That man up there, he gets offers from unowned subs, he could have anyone.” Mystery man grabs at Dean’s crotch and Dean jerks away. “He says,” the guy continues, “he’s waiting for the right person to keep as his own.”
The vibration goes up a notch again, and the sub’s moans are practically screams. Dean realizes the poor guy is wearing a cock ring. (With some really kinky girls he’s done the same thing, but this just seems cruel.) His own dick twitches, in sympathy or arousal he’s not quite sure which.
The vibrations go up again, and the sub really starts screaming. Words, this time. “Please, oh fuck, oh please Master, oh god, oh please...” Sam smirks, the light making him look sinister.
The vibrations go up another time. Dean’s at the perfect angle to see the bound and twitching dick of the desperate man. “Fuck, fuck Please, Master Please, just let me come. Please.” The sub’s really begging now.
“No,” Sam says simply. And the vibrations leap up in pitch again. The sub doesn’t last much longer, he arches as far as his bonds will allow and passes out, his dick twitching madly. An orgasm without the relief of coming.
The vibrator clicks off and Sam puts down the remote control before standing. He jerks himself off as he walks towards the sub and comes all over his slaves bound and exposed genitals.
The crowd disperses, going to back rooms or home or wherever they need to go to get rid of the absolutely insane sexual energy thrumming through everyone. Dean’s about to slip away when a man just about Sam’s height but with none of his breadth gets up on the stage to loose the still unconscious sub. “Jesus Christ,” he says to sam, angry. “He wasn’t your fucking sub, asshole.”
Sam shrugs one shoulder, looking unconcerned. “You gave him to me for the night.”
“You weren’t supposed to torture him,” the man growls, taking off the cock ring. The sub comes immediately without any other stimulation other than that.
Sam laughs. “He wanted to be tortured.” He eyes the Dom. “You’re a switch, aren’t you?”
The man flushes. “Fuck you, asshole.”
Dean almost intervenes when the angry dom takes a swing at Sam. Sam blocks easily though, and Dean relaxes.
“Whatever, man,” his brother says lightly. “Learn your sub better.”
Dean takes that time to escape. If there’s one thing he learned from the experience, it’s that Sam could be in danger. Angry doms or... STDs... or... it’s hardwired into Dean’s DNA to want to protect Sam.
And there has to be a better way for him to do this.
There’s only one thing to do.
Research.
*
When Sam does his... thing... he doesn’t have nightmares when he finally does sleep. It’s the first thing Dean notices. The second thing he notices is Sam is lighter, after too. He moves faster, swifter, he’s more graceful. Looser. Happier.
This is something that helps him, for whatever fucked up reason. And as far as Dean knew, Sam had never shown an interest in men. Other than academically and maybe during that short disastrous night with the Siren.
Dean waits until Sam is gone for the night, muttering something about finding a clothing store, and Dean immediately opens up the laptop. He types into the search engine ‘gay porn’. He feels like a teenage boy again though and deletes the entry before it loads fully. He reloads the page and under the Google logo the blinking cursor mocks him.
Finally he types, “doms and subs” and gets a wiki site that’s pretty helpful. Drawing on his knowledge of what he’d seen the night before. Sam had denied the slave orgasm so Dean opened a new page and typed in “orgasm denial.” There were websites upon websites dedicated to the concept, and Dean pulls out - he glances at one of the five credit cards in his wallet; “George Lennon” - George’s Lennon’s credit card and orders platinum memberships for the ones that look the best.
He can’t download the porn but he can look at it over the internet. The most promising is kink.com - and he gets a little distracted looking at all the lesbian porn before putting his brain back online. His hard on is throbbing and this isn’t going to work. Gay porn, Dean, gay porn.
He switches channels on his favorite site and takes a deep breath. He can do this.
For Sam.
*
The confrontation with Sam could have gone better, Dean thinks as the door slams behind his brother. It was that or he should have parked himself in front of the door before speaking.
... Which actually didn’t sound any better and probably would have ended with the door slammed and a broken nose.
Dean leans his forehead on the door and sighs, straining his ears for any sign that Sam hasn’t gone far. The keys to the Impala are still in his pocket so wherever Sam decided to go, it was within walking distance. Words had never been his strongest point - actions spoke much louder to him and he seldom screwed those up by using the wrong ones.
Sam at least, had left his stuff when he stormed off, so he had to come back sometime. And Dean would be waiting.
He stripped down to his black boxer briefs, and debated taking them off too. It wasn’t exactly warm, but he’d read somewhere that prospective doms liked to view their property. And he’d bought a cock ring that he knew fit him. He chewed on his lip for a second, before slipping off the boxer briefs and tossing them into a corner.
He could do this. He jerked himself quickly and as soon as he got hard enough he slipped on the cock ring. He made sure to have everything ready, cock already throbbing. He’d done his research, he could do this.
Sam would probably have his own array of toys, unless he wasn’t collecting and was just using things that belonged to the clubs he was going to. But Dean had gone shopping. It hadn’t been easy sneaking off to the nearest P.O. Box to pick up his new toys. He left them in full display on the bed closest to the door. Sam would see them as soon as he walked in.
Dean knelt in the middle of the room, limbs shaking. Could he defer all control to his little brother? The kid he changed diapers on, the kid he taught to tie his shoes. Could he have sex with his brother?
Would he keep his brother safe?
Yes, yes, and yes.
All that left to do was wait for Sam to come home and hope that his gesture was more accepted than his words.
*
Dean tenses when he hears Sam at the door. Sam opens it and stills instantly. Dean can tell through the blindfold he’d tied around his eyes that Sam hadn’t turned on the lights yet. It’s probably late.
“Dean...” he says slowly, drawing the word out. “What is this?” Dean doesn’t answer. It’s hard to remember the rules of the game, but he does remember that the concept of ‘permission’ is something to keep in mind. Sam hasn’t given him permission yet, and so he can’t answer.
He makes the right choice because Sam says, “you can answer me.”
“I’m bad at this,” Dean says instantly. “I thought I’d show you instead of telling you.”
It’s hard not to look around for a shadow across the blindfold, looking for Sam. For a big dude, he’s freakishly quiet when he moves. It’s actually why Dean went for the blindfold in the first place; the temptation to open his eyes and look would be strong and he’s not sure he’s stronger than it is.
“How long have you been practicing?” Sam asks, and Dean’s a little confused.
“Two weeks?” he says, with a question mark at the end.
“Asking or telling?” Sam rejoins, and Dean smiles.
“Telling.”
Sam is quiet again and Dean doesn’t know if he’s moved, and he can feel himself tensing up. “Safe word?”
“Impala.” The answer is instantaneous. It was one of the first things all those websites said he needed. He loved his car dearly, more than dearly, but it wasn’t something he’d bring up during sex.
Sam’s voice, when it comes again, comes from the other side of him and Dean twitches. “How many men have you been with?”
Dean cringes. “None.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No.” Dean doesn’t think that the guy from the club counts. They didn’t do anything and Dean brushed him off anyway. He’d been hit on by other men plenty of times before - with looks like his, who could help themselves? - but he’d never taken anyone up on their offers. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing right now, or a bad thing.
Sam clicks his tongue. “Fair enough. What aren’t you comfortable with? Be honest, I won’t judge you.”
“Enemas,” Dean’s answer comes right away, startling a laugh out of Sam. “I’m sorry, I watched the porn and I... no. Just no.” He shudders, before realizing he’d broke character. “I’m sorry... what do you want me to call you?”
Sam sits on the bed beside him, Dean can hear it creak. “Sam is fine,” he answers. “Sir is dad and Master is... stupid. I always want to laugh when the subs at the places call me that.” Dean nods a little, thankful. He’d hoped Sam had wanted to stay Sam and not be Sir. “What else don’t you like?”
“Sounding. Scat.” Dean did a lot of research.
Sam chuckles again. “Fair enough. What are you into?” He must have looked over at the other bed, and says, “these looks interesting. A paddle, you like to be spanked. Anal plugs, one of which vibrates. Dildos, all vibrators. Hmm... I think I know what started this particular kink, Dean.” Dean shivers all over, at the sound. It’s the same tone Sam used at the club.
His idea had worked. The knot of worry loosened in his chest and he suddenly could breathe a little easier.
At least until Sam spoke again. Dread curled low in Dean’s stomach, and really wished he could see his brother. “Can you prove it, Dean?” Sam had asked and Dean didn’t know how to answer. Not honestly, and not without giving away more than he could afford to lose. “Can you prove to me that you’re mine, and only mine?”
“How can I do that?” Dean answered, mind racing.
Sam sits back on the bed, looking considering. “Could you let me touch you, arouse you and make you burn and not let you come?” Dean tenses at the words but his cock twitches tellingly. “Well then, that looks obvious. Don’t move.”
He slides off the bed and lands beside Dean, settling down beside him. Dean sits as still as he’s able at least until Sam’s hand snakes out and takes his cock. He can’t help the accidental jerk of his hips. For a second he’s a little afraid that Sam will punish him for moving, but Sam just chuckles and tightens his grip. “We’re not going to have a problem with this part, are we Dean?”
If Dean is a little breathless when he responds, Sam doesn’t comment. “No,” he says, twitching.
Sam jerks him off slow and sweet for what seems like hours and when Dean feels his orgasm start to kindle at the base of his spine, his hips jerk and - nothing happens. The cry rips out of his throat before he realizes it’s even there and disappointment swirls in his chest. He wants to fucking come damn it!
He turns his head towards where he hears Sam’s low chuckle and scowls through the blind fold. “Please,” he asks, as nicely as he’s able.
“No, I think not. I think you’re going to get up and take a cold shower and we’ll do this again tomorrow.” Sam sounds blase and noncommital but there’s definitely a line of heat through his tone and no one ever said Dean wasn’t a considerate lover.
“What about you?” he asks, fingers twitching with the desire to reciprocate.
Sam presses a kiss to Dean’s temple. “I come when you do, Dean.”
So Dean gets slowly and painfully off the floor and into the shower where he is so tempted to jerk himself off some more, but doesn’t. He’s not sure why he doesn’t, maybe because he’s still wearing the cock ring, maybe because he knows Sam will be disappointed in him.
He comes out of the shower holding the blindfold and his towel in one hand, the cock ring in the other. “It came off when I got soft,” he says and hands it to Sam.
Sam looks at him narrow eyed for a second before nodding. “Good night, Dean,” he says after a pause.
“Good night, Sam.”
They get into their separate beds and sleep until morning, but after that when they stop for the night, the bed is always a king.
*
It takes a week of being jerked off and not being allowed to orgasm before Dean’s control breaks. It’s three days sooner than Dean thinks and four days longer than Sam’s estimation. Sam puts Dean through another session before sending him to the shower and when Sam opens the door - entirely out of needing something from his kit and not because he doesn’t trust Dean - he finds his brother jerking off. The cock ring is still on, which is something but Sam immediately flashes hot and turns the water off.
It says something about how far gone Dean is that he only notices Sam when he does that rather than when the door opened. “On the bed,” Sam says, a note of steel threading his tone.
“What the hell are you going to do?” Dean asks, hand still wrapped around his red and angry looking penis.
Sam smiles and it’s not a safe look, Dean swallows hard. “Get on,” Sam says, pleasantly enough, “the bed.”
Dean takes a towel with him and dries off as he walks towards their shared bed. “Now what, Sam?” he asks, heart beating faster.
“Arms over your head, legs spread.” Slowly Dean obeys. Things haven’t been too different since starting this... whatever this is, but he has a feeling that’s about to change. Sam pulls leather hand cuffs out of his duffle, and they’re nice, real nice and probably expensive. Dean can’t help but frown a little. Has he used those on other people? “I bought these for you,” Sam says and Dean’s eyes go wide. Can Sam still read his mind, or... “I don’t need to be a mind reader to be able to read your face,” Sam says with an easy smile.
He looks like Dean’s kid brother again and something shakes loose in Dean’s chest.
“Do you trust me, Dean?” And there’s the crux of it. Dean nods reflexively. It’s true, even and maybe especially after the last year they had, he still trusts Sam with his life. It’s his heart he’s not so sure of anymore. The clinking of the locks catching regains Dean’s attention and his eyes are riveted on Sam as he pulls more things from his bag.
First a tube, and Dean’s no stranger to anal sex. He’s fucked a lot of girls and some of them liked some fun things - like anal. But he was pitching, then. Not catching.
Sam pours a little onto his fore finger of his right hand and rubs it around. “I’m going to lock your legs down, too,” he adds absently. “You remember your safe word?”
“Impala,” Dean says instantly. “I won’t forget.”
Sam hooks rope like things around his ankles and Dean tugs at them experimentally, realizing the rope loops around the bottom of the bed. His legs are completely spread and he’s totally exposed.
It’s been years since Dean blushed, and considering how hard his dick his, he’s surprised he can even manage it at the moment. Sam’s lube wet finger presses against his ass, rubbing it into the hole there. Dean tenses but his brother doesn’t do anything more than rub little maddingly circles there until Dean starts shifting his hips trying to get more friction.
He’s so fucking hard he’s ready to burst and he wants more.
Sam eases half his finger in, adding a little more lube. He rotates it around and hits something Dean was only aware of from doctors visits as a teen. His prostrate shoots off electrical sparks that darken his vision and rips a cry from his throat. Sam smiles and touches it again, the smile widening into a grin when Dean’s hips twist up violently.
He puts in half of another finger, pumping shallowly and ignoring Dean’s prostate even though Dean’s whimpering and sweating. “I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” Sam says meditatively, twisting his fingers left and right slowly. “I don’t need to prepare you that much for what I’m going to introduce to you.”
Dean’s eyes fly open when Sam removes his fingers and pulls out a slim black toy. It doesn’t look like much, narrower than a mag light, with a slightly bulbous head. It’s obviously a dildo, but it doesn’t look like it’ll stretch him too much. “This still okay, Dean?”
“Yes, Sam,” he answers instantly, trying to reel down the desire throbbing in his cock. He’s just started to breathe again when Sam nudges the dildo into Dean. Covered in lube it slides easily, thin enough not to bother him.
Sam seats it there, and slides up the bed to press his knee against where it protrudes out of his brother. “This way,” he says authoritatively, “it won’t fall out. And I can feel how desperate you are.” Sam gives Dean’s balls a squeeze and Dean will swear under pain of death that he didn’t squeak when Sam did it.
The dildo presses against his prostrate but it doesn’t move so Dean just starts to relax when it turns on. It’s not just a fucking dildo. It’s a vibrator. Just like at the club Dean saw Sam at.
It buzzes to life, directly against his prostate and Dean shouts, hips and cock jerking. Pre come pumps slowly down his shaft and occasionally Sam drags his fingers through it, licking his hand clean.
When Dean is really twisting he turns the vibrator up a notch. Dean shouts again, biting his lip hard to keep the noises in. He suddenly realizes how the sub felt before, at that club, bound, and tortured.
It feels so fucking good.
The vibrator goes up another notch and Sam grins when Dean’s eyes roll back in his head. “Do you want a gag, Dean?” Dean shakes his head. “Good answer,” Sam says approvingly, and Dean relaxes the rest of the way against the bed.
At least until the vibrations go up again. Dean’s cock jumps so hard it hits his belly and leaves behind a thin sticky stream of pre come there. Sam leans down and licks it off, his hair brushing Dean’s dick. It’s almost too much, Dean shouts again, cock twitching like it’s orgasming but nothing happens. He falls limp against the bed, hips riding Sam’s thigh, trying to urge the vibrator out, trying to orgasm for real.
Instead, Sam turns up the vibrator again. “You’re doing so well Dean,” Sam says softly, against the skin of his belly. “Two more levels to go. Can you do that for me, Dean?” Dean nods frantically because maybe at the end of this, he finally gets to fucking come. Sam shifts his knee against Dean’s balls, pressing them tighter to his body and words finally burst out of Dean.
“Oh fuck,” he says, just lower than a shout. “Oh fuck, do that again.”
Sam does, flexing his thigh against his brother’s balls. They’re red, heavy, full and pulsing, ready to come at the most available time. Sam checks the cock ring again, just in case, making Dean moan again.
He turns the vibrator up. Dean’s thrashing everywhere now, fists tight around the chains holding the cuffs to the bed. His back is arched so far Sam could slide a pillow between his back and the bed if he wanted.
Dean’s pale skin is flushed and hungry looking so Sam licks his nipple and Dean bellows, twisting his chest away - or maybe towards Sam’s greedy mouth. He sucks in Dean’s left nipple and sucks hard. He can feel Dean’s cock jerk in another almost-orgasm as he does. He makes a mental note to remember that Dean’s nipples are sensitive.
He raises the vibration one last time, holding it against Dean’s prostate with numb fingers. Dean is begging now, really begging, words practically incomprehensible. When his cock jerks for a third time, and his dick is so wet with pre come it looks like lube, Sam lowers the vibrator slowly until it turns off.
Dean falls to the bed like his strings have been cut. Sam removes the vibrator but immediately replaces them with his fingers. “Dean, you awake?” he asks, amused.
“Uh huh,” Dean answers hoarsely, swallowing hard.
“Oh good. I’m going to give you a biology lesson. Have you ever heard of prostate milking?” Dean shakes his head, entirely body trembling. “It’s when someone, or something, massages your prostate until you orgasm. But when you orgasm, it empties you of everything, you probably won’t even be able to get it up again after orgasming from prostate milking. So we’re going to experiment with that tonight.” Dean’s eyes fly open and lock on Sam’s. “You wanted to come, so you get to come, Dean. Just not only once.” He smiles again, and it looks better on a shark. “As many times as I want.”
Dean whimpers again and jerks hard when Sam starts rubbing his fingers against his abused prostate. It feels so fucking good though that he’s humping Sam’s hand, muttering, growling, and pleading with him. “Please, please, fuck fuccck, please, take it off, take the ring off, fuck Sammy please I want to come so fucking bad, I’m gonna fucking die. Sammy....”
He can feel something building within him, starting at his toes and the top of his head, growing up or sliding down or both at the same time, sending sparks through his muscles and spine. His orgasm is converging on his prostate, he can feel it pulsing and his cock is twitching and suddenly the pressure keeping him from coming is gone and his body wastes no time.
He orgasms for what feels like forever, twitching with the aftershocks and opening his eyes to see his stomach, thighs, most of the bed and Sam’s hand are covered in his come. Sam licks it off him slowly, cat like, his eyes riveted on Dean’s face. “Breathe now,” Sam warns. “While you still can.”
Then the vibrator is back, on as high as it can go and Dean screams.
He orgasms four times that night.
He’s never slept better.
*
Things get even more intense after that. Sam can’t keep his hands off Dean once they reach that level and he’s completely unprepared for how good it feels. They’d always been a little more tactile than normal brothers, probably brought on from growing up on the road, and living in each others pockets since forever. But this is different.
They still sit on different sides of the tables when at diners, still hunt things and save people, Dean still takes the lead and keeps Sammy safe.
But, behind the doors of their motel room, there is only one bed, and Sam calls all the shots. Sometimes its fun, sometimes it’s maddening and sometimes Dean realizes how fucked he really is. Even though Sam hasn’t fucked him, maybe never will.
For the most part, Sam is content to explore, to touch. A week after Dean comes so hard he can’t get it up for two days afterwards, Sam comes into their room after dinner and he has that look in his eye.
“Strip,” he tells Dean in a voice made for sex. Dean doesn’t hesitate, not any more, and drops everything he’s doing. He slowly closes the lap top, standing as soon as it shuts down correctly. He takes off his shirts, unbuckling his belt and slipping off his jeans.
“Bed?” Dean asks, hoarsely.
Sam tilts his head to the side, looking eerily like Castiel. “Mm,” he murmurs, thinking about it. “For now.” Dean tugs off his boxer-briefs and lays face up on the bed. “There are rules,” Sam warns and Dean nods. “First rule, I’m not tying you up but you’re not allowed to move. Second rule, I’m not using the cock ring tonight but you’re not allowed to come. If you come, we start over.”
Dean has to swallow a few times before he can speak, his throat tight with arousal. “Okay,” he whispers. His cock is already hard and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the control Sam wants from him.
“This,” Sam continues when Dean’s eyes focus back on him, “is a lesson in touch.” He settles in next to Dean, placing one warm hand on Dean’s chest. “I am going to touch you everywhere, with just my hands, and maybe you’ll stop flinching all the time.”
Panic spears through Dean. “Sam,” he says.
“No, it’s okay Dean,” Sam responds. “I understand. We’ll learn together.” He smiles a little, the dimple smile Dean grew up craving. “You ready?”
The tension in the room rises to almost unbearable heights and Dean realizes that everything depends on him. He says no, and it ends. Sam goes back to the bars and the clubs, and an angry dom is going to take him out. “Yes,” he says, too loudly in the dimness of the room. “I’m ready.”
What he means is ‘I’m yours’ but at least Sam doesn’t make him say that part out loud.
Sam nods, his smile widening. “Close your eyes, Dean.” Dean does. He waits in darkness for the first touch. When it comes, he’s shocked even though he was expecting it. He jumps under Sam’s hand and his brother laughs. “Relax Dean.”
Slowly, with some effort, Dean relaxes under Sam’s hand, going boneless and mellow as Sam starts up a back rub. Dean’s weakness has always been a good back massage. Sam keeps at it for long enough that Dean feels like he could fall asleep just the way he is. He’s still hard, but it’s more abstract that anything else, he’s comfortable and mellow and everything just feels good.
He zones as Sam repositions his arms to work down the backs of them, then each hand, which feels like fucking heaven - not that he remembers ever being there, but that’s the way he thinks heaven should feel. Sam moves back to his lower back and Dean shifts a little to give him more access, smiling into the pillow at Sam’s low chuckle.
Sam works his way down both his legs and feet and Dean’s not sure he can stay awake for anything else. Until Sam’s hands find their way onto his ass and spread the cheeks. Dean’s too boneless to tense but he stiffens up. “Relax, Dean,” Sam murmurs, and he must be way closer than Dean thought because he can feel Sam’s breath on his back.
He makes a concentrated effort to, but then Sam’s mouth is on his skin, leaving small sucking bites from his lower back all the way down. He twitches, feeling his cock echo the movement where it’s trapped between his body and the bed. Then Sam does the impossible. Sam spreads his ass cheeks even farther and lays his lips on the hole he finds there. Dean bites down on the pillow and tries not to hump his brother’s face.
It should feel gross, but it feels fucking fantastic. Sam licks at him while using his fingers to massage his ass, perineum and the underside of his balls - which he didn’t know were that sensitive, holy shit. Dean can’t even help the noises he’s making, he tries to bite them back but they’re escaping anyway. He can feel Sam’s smile against his skin though and eventually even gives up trying.
Finally after an eternity of torture, Sam pulls away with a wet slurping noise and says, a trifle hoarsely, “roll over, Dean.”
It takes two false starts before Dean can roll over and his eyes go wide when he sees his cock. It’s huge. Red, throbbing and it looks angry. Dean squeaks and closes his eyes quickly.
He’s not going to last.
But Sam starts out at his feet again, giving the tops of each foot and leg a thorough rub down until the throbbing in his cock abates somewhat. Each time he works his way up Dean’s thigh, Dean gets ready for his brother’s hands on his cock, but once each leg is done, Sam skips right over his dick and goes for his belly.
Sam’s hands trace every scar Dean has, massaging lightly over each hip bone, long palm rolls over the skin on his stomach, then back down with just his finger nails. Dean’s covered in goose bumps by the time Sam moves up to his chest.
He’s just started to relax again when Sam pinches both his nipples at the same time. They’re both surprised when he comes. Sam blinks, then cracks a grin. “I knew you were sensitive Dean, but really?”
Dean drops his head back on the pillow. “Shit,” he says quietly. He rolls over before Sam can tell him, adjusting himself accordingly.
“Are you hiding?” Sam asks incredulously.
“No ” Dean says. “You told me if I came, we were going to start over.” He buries his face further into the pillow. “And I came.”
“So I did,” Sam murmurs, running a finger down Dean’s spine.
So he starts again.
Dean comes once more before he makes it through the whole exercise without coming. He’s hard as nails by the end, and panting for it. His hands are buried in the blankets, curled so tightly he’s pulled up the sheets from the edge of the bed. Sam sits back, looking Dean over. “You did well,” Sam tells him, with another baby brother smile.
Dean lets out the breath he’d been holding. “Can I-?” he starts to ask but cuts himself off.
“Can you what, Dean?” Sam asks, smile widening.
He struggles with himself for a second before saying, “come. Can I come, please, Sam?”
Sam looks at him for a long minute. “Yes, Dean,” he says eventually. “You can come.” He reaches over and grasps Dean’s sore cock but Dean whimpers and flinches. “Too sensitive?” Sam asks, with a small smile. “We’ll try something else.” Then Sam leans over and licks a stripe from Dean’s balls to the head of his twitching erection.
It takes a full minute of little kitten like licks around the head of his hard on before Dean gasps out a warning and comes against Sam’s lips. He’s still wrecked, ten minutes later when Sam gets back in the bed after cleaning them off and removing the soiled linens. When Sam slides under the covers, Dean almost immediately curls into him.
They sleep that way, tangled like puppies.
Dean feels like everything’s changed.
*
They’re solving a case in the middle of nowhere Illinois, when Dean realizes everything has changed. Things are easier; he and Sam have always moved around each other with a grace borne of time, but everything clicks even more smoothly. Sam is at his laptop with Dean leaning over him, pointing out something on the screen when he figures it out. Sam must realize something’s wrong because he half turns in his seat and says, “what? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says sharply. “I’m fine.” Sam quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t respond. Dean is close to his face, too close. It comes on as suddenly as his revelation does. He and Sam have done everything they can do between the sheets except for two things: Sam hasn’t fucked Dean. They haven’t kissed.
Looking down into Sam’s slightly confused gaze, Dean realizes another two things: if this was anyone else (like Cassie) he’d have started kissing them already, and, what if Sam didn’t want Dean to kiss him? “You sure?” Sam asks after another moment of tense silence where neither of them moves.
“Yeah,” Dean says softly, and to himself, fuck it. He drops a casual kiss on Sam’s lips and wanders over to the bed to clean the guns. He dares a glance at Sam, Sam who looks completely befuddled and adorable with it.
He’s just started to take apart his favorite gun when Sam walks across the room and gently threads his fingers through Dean’s un-styled hair. “What was that, Dean?”
“What was what?” Dean responds, trying too hard to keep his tone light.
“Uh, dude, you kissed me.”
Dean raises an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah,” he replies in the same tone. “What about it?”
The expression that crosses his brother’s face is a cross between exasperation and frustration and Dean loves putting it there. “I didn’t... I didn’t think you wanted to,” Sam says eventually.
Pressing his lips together, Dean starts methodically taking apart the gun to oil and clean it. “Well,” he says, as soon as his hands are busy, “why not?” It’s rhetorically though and he answers himself before Sam can do much more than breathe in to respond. “We’re together, aren’t we?”
Sam brushes his fingers through Dean’s hair, once, twice. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I guess we are.”
The next day, laying on the table on Dean’s side of the bed is a thick leather bracelet with shining buckles in three places. It fits four small throwing daggers, but it clearly isn’t the point.
It says ‘mine’.
Sam’s in the shower when Dean puts it on, he probably planned it that way. Hand shaking, Dean lifts it from the wooden bedside table and latches it on to his left wrist. It fits comfortably, not so tight to kill the circulation, not so loose as to fall off around his hand. He stares at it until he hears the water turn off. When he hears Sam moving around in the bathroom, Dean gets out of bed, tugging on a t-shirt and sitting at the laptop to review the case notes. He leaves his boxers on, but doesn’t bother with the jeans.
He very carefully doesn’t look at Sam when his brother comes out of the bathroom, but he knows that Sam looks at the bedside table first before coming over to see what Dean’s looking at. “What’ve we got?” he asks, leaning over Dean’s shoulder, his fingers warm on Dean’s upper arm.
“It’s definitely a salt and burn,” Dean says, using his free hand to point to the screen. “I didn’t see it last night but there’s definitely a pattern.” He clicks to another page on the website. “All female, all within the ages of 18 and 25. That’s why it let that last girl live, it was her birthday, she’d just turned 26. She didn’t fit the pattern.”
“Any idea who the ghost is?” Sam asks, running distracting hands over Dean’s back and shoulders.
“No, not yet.”
They work the case for the next two days.
*
On their way out of town, Dean stops at a coffee shop that has the mocha frappe chino things that Sam likes. “You want anything, babe?” Dean asks his brother absently as he’s getting out of the car.
“Um.” Sam sounds a little surprised. “Nah, I’m good.”
When Dean gets out of the car, Sam opens his laptop to look at perspective cases. There’s a possible haunting in Witchita Falls, Texas. And something that looks like it could be a shapeshifter in Denver, Colorado. Sam turns in the seat to grab his notebook and nearly has a heart attack when he almost reaches into Castiel’s lap. “Hello, Sam,” he says in a pleasant monotone.
Sam twitches, nearly losing the notebook on his knees. “What the hell, Cas,” Sam says when he can breathe again. “Wear a bell or something.”
Cas blinks, tilting his head to one side. “You want me to put a bell on? I thought you’d rather collar Dean, Sam.”
“Oh jesus,” Sam says, covering his face with one hand. “What do you want, Cas?” he asks, muffled.
“I am merely here to ascertain whether or not your mental health is failing,” he says, leaning forward to touch Sam between the eyes. “You seem to be doing quite well, all things considered.”
Sam closes his eyes, feeling... something... flow through Castiel’s fingers into him. “Yeah,” he adds finally, “I’m okay.”
Castiel pulled his hand away. “You are making him happy?”
“Um,” Sam says, “I think so.”
“Ask him,” Castiel suggests. “And... be safe.”
When Sam opens his eyes and looks into the back seat, Castiel is gone. He turns back to the research on his lap, staring at it without seeing it. When Dean gets back in the car, a carmel macchiato in one hand and a small baggie in the other. “Hey, I got you a pumpkin scone,” Dean says, dumping it in his lap.
Sam reaches over without speaking and unclasps Dean’s bracelet. Dean freezes as soon as it’s off. “Are you happy, Dean?” Sam asks. “Is this really what you want?”
Dean is silent. He can’t come up with anything to say. The longer the silence goes on, the farther Sam’s face falls. Slowly, he takes his hand away from Dean’s wrist, taking the bracelet with him. “Oh,” he says quietly, “oh jesus Dean, I’m sorry.” He puts down the research, the scone, the drink and opens the door. He’s closing it behind him before Dean’s brain catches up with him.
“Son of a... Sam, hang on, Sam!” But when he gets out of the car, his brother is gone.
The bracelet is sitting on the bed when he finally gets back to the motel.
Sam’s things are gone.
* Part Two
Author: placeofinsanity
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/Character: Sam/Dean, Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Author who art is for/Artist who did your art: deadflowers5
Kink: control, orgasm control/denial, forced orgasm, toys/dildos, BDSM, dom/subs, marking, orgasm on command, coming without being touched, voyeurism.
Notes/Warnings: slash, incest, angst, BDSM, a light coloring of dub-con
Summary: AU-Season 6. Sam comes back after a year in Hell, but instead of being soulless, he finds himself changed on a level he never expected. Unable to give control to someone else, he takes away that control to make himself feel safe. Dean offers himself up to keep his brother safe, and finds their connection stronger than ever.
Art Post Here! (Go look at them, they're shiny!!)
*
I need your scent all over me
I need to taste your blasphemy
I need to know with certainty
The nectar was worth the squeeze
- Otep, “Special Pets”
*
Part One
The first time Dean sees it, he almost doesn’t recognize Sam. The men in the scene are all shirtless, but only one is naked. It’s not Sam, but Dean is still shocked. That’s his baby brother in the leather pants, his baby brother, dick exposed and hard through the fly of said leather pants.
It takes a minute for his brain to recognize the images his eyes are seeing. It’s like the really bad hunts, where everyone is mutilated or in pieces. His mind just doesn’t get it. Dean figures it out after five or so minutes, a hot flush creeping up his neck when he realizes why.
Porn.
And fuck, but that’s embarrassing. His brother is practically re-enacting a BDSM porn flick... only there are no chicks.
The look on Sam’s face... shit, it’s molten, it’s want and hunger. He’s so absorbed in watching him that when someone grabs his shoulder, he nearly takes the hand there off at the wrist. “You interested?” the man connected to the wrist asks. “He’s been here every night this weekend.”
That explains a lot, Dean thinks, and shakes his head. “Just watching.”
Mystery man laughs, and winks. “Feeling intimidated?” Dean makes a face, which makes the mystery man laugh harder. “Not your usual scene, I can see that. Natural sub?”
Dean snorts. “Not so much.”
Something on the stage draws Dean’s attention away from the mystery man. Sam is easing something into his victim’s ass. The whole crowd goes silent, like they’re all holding their breath. Once Sam is finished seating whatever it is inside the bound man, it becomes instantly obvious that it’s a vibrator.
A loud buzz fills the room and the guy instantly starts moaning. Sam’s lounging back in a chair, still hard and... obvious. The ‘sub’ is writhing now, arching against his bonds. The buzzing goes up a notch and so does the pitch of the guy’s moans.
Mystery man grabs at Dean, hauling him back against his chest. “That man up there, he gets offers from unowned subs, he could have anyone.” Mystery man grabs at Dean’s crotch and Dean jerks away. “He says,” the guy continues, “he’s waiting for the right person to keep as his own.”
The vibration goes up a notch again, and the sub’s moans are practically screams. Dean realizes the poor guy is wearing a cock ring. (With some really kinky girls he’s done the same thing, but this just seems cruel.) His own dick twitches, in sympathy or arousal he’s not quite sure which.
The vibrations go up again, and the sub really starts screaming. Words, this time. “Please, oh fuck, oh please Master, oh god, oh please...” Sam smirks, the light making him look sinister.
The vibrations go up another time. Dean’s at the perfect angle to see the bound and twitching dick of the desperate man. “Fuck, fuck Please, Master Please, just let me come. Please.” The sub’s really begging now.
“No,” Sam says simply. And the vibrations leap up in pitch again. The sub doesn’t last much longer, he arches as far as his bonds will allow and passes out, his dick twitching madly. An orgasm without the relief of coming.
The vibrator clicks off and Sam puts down the remote control before standing. He jerks himself off as he walks towards the sub and comes all over his slaves bound and exposed genitals.
The crowd disperses, going to back rooms or home or wherever they need to go to get rid of the absolutely insane sexual energy thrumming through everyone. Dean’s about to slip away when a man just about Sam’s height but with none of his breadth gets up on the stage to loose the still unconscious sub. “Jesus Christ,” he says to sam, angry. “He wasn’t your fucking sub, asshole.”
Sam shrugs one shoulder, looking unconcerned. “You gave him to me for the night.”
“You weren’t supposed to torture him,” the man growls, taking off the cock ring. The sub comes immediately without any other stimulation other than that.
Sam laughs. “He wanted to be tortured.” He eyes the Dom. “You’re a switch, aren’t you?”
The man flushes. “Fuck you, asshole.”
Dean almost intervenes when the angry dom takes a swing at Sam. Sam blocks easily though, and Dean relaxes.
“Whatever, man,” his brother says lightly. “Learn your sub better.”
Dean takes that time to escape. If there’s one thing he learned from the experience, it’s that Sam could be in danger. Angry doms or... STDs... or... it’s hardwired into Dean’s DNA to want to protect Sam.
And there has to be a better way for him to do this.
There’s only one thing to do.
Research.
*
When Sam does his... thing... he doesn’t have nightmares when he finally does sleep. It’s the first thing Dean notices. The second thing he notices is Sam is lighter, after too. He moves faster, swifter, he’s more graceful. Looser. Happier.
This is something that helps him, for whatever fucked up reason. And as far as Dean knew, Sam had never shown an interest in men. Other than academically and maybe during that short disastrous night with the Siren.
Dean waits until Sam is gone for the night, muttering something about finding a clothing store, and Dean immediately opens up the laptop. He types into the search engine ‘gay porn’. He feels like a teenage boy again though and deletes the entry before it loads fully. He reloads the page and under the Google logo the blinking cursor mocks him.
Finally he types, “doms and subs” and gets a wiki site that’s pretty helpful. Drawing on his knowledge of what he’d seen the night before. Sam had denied the slave orgasm so Dean opened a new page and typed in “orgasm denial.” There were websites upon websites dedicated to the concept, and Dean pulls out - he glances at one of the five credit cards in his wallet; “George Lennon” - George’s Lennon’s credit card and orders platinum memberships for the ones that look the best.
He can’t download the porn but he can look at it over the internet. The most promising is kink.com - and he gets a little distracted looking at all the lesbian porn before putting his brain back online. His hard on is throbbing and this isn’t going to work. Gay porn, Dean, gay porn.
He switches channels on his favorite site and takes a deep breath. He can do this.
For Sam.
*
The confrontation with Sam could have gone better, Dean thinks as the door slams behind his brother. It was that or he should have parked himself in front of the door before speaking.
... Which actually didn’t sound any better and probably would have ended with the door slammed and a broken nose.
Dean leans his forehead on the door and sighs, straining his ears for any sign that Sam hasn’t gone far. The keys to the Impala are still in his pocket so wherever Sam decided to go, it was within walking distance. Words had never been his strongest point - actions spoke much louder to him and he seldom screwed those up by using the wrong ones.
Sam at least, had left his stuff when he stormed off, so he had to come back sometime. And Dean would be waiting.
He stripped down to his black boxer briefs, and debated taking them off too. It wasn’t exactly warm, but he’d read somewhere that prospective doms liked to view their property. And he’d bought a cock ring that he knew fit him. He chewed on his lip for a second, before slipping off the boxer briefs and tossing them into a corner.
He could do this. He jerked himself quickly and as soon as he got hard enough he slipped on the cock ring. He made sure to have everything ready, cock already throbbing. He’d done his research, he could do this.
Sam would probably have his own array of toys, unless he wasn’t collecting and was just using things that belonged to the clubs he was going to. But Dean had gone shopping. It hadn’t been easy sneaking off to the nearest P.O. Box to pick up his new toys. He left them in full display on the bed closest to the door. Sam would see them as soon as he walked in.
Dean knelt in the middle of the room, limbs shaking. Could he defer all control to his little brother? The kid he changed diapers on, the kid he taught to tie his shoes. Could he have sex with his brother?
Would he keep his brother safe?
Yes, yes, and yes.
All that left to do was wait for Sam to come home and hope that his gesture was more accepted than his words.
*
Dean tenses when he hears Sam at the door. Sam opens it and stills instantly. Dean can tell through the blindfold he’d tied around his eyes that Sam hadn’t turned on the lights yet. It’s probably late.
“Dean...” he says slowly, drawing the word out. “What is this?” Dean doesn’t answer. It’s hard to remember the rules of the game, but he does remember that the concept of ‘permission’ is something to keep in mind. Sam hasn’t given him permission yet, and so he can’t answer.
He makes the right choice because Sam says, “you can answer me.”
“I’m bad at this,” Dean says instantly. “I thought I’d show you instead of telling you.”
It’s hard not to look around for a shadow across the blindfold, looking for Sam. For a big dude, he’s freakishly quiet when he moves. It’s actually why Dean went for the blindfold in the first place; the temptation to open his eyes and look would be strong and he’s not sure he’s stronger than it is.
“How long have you been practicing?” Sam asks, and Dean’s a little confused.
“Two weeks?” he says, with a question mark at the end.
“Asking or telling?” Sam rejoins, and Dean smiles.
“Telling.”
Sam is quiet again and Dean doesn’t know if he’s moved, and he can feel himself tensing up. “Safe word?”
“Impala.” The answer is instantaneous. It was one of the first things all those websites said he needed. He loved his car dearly, more than dearly, but it wasn’t something he’d bring up during sex.
Sam’s voice, when it comes again, comes from the other side of him and Dean twitches. “How many men have you been with?”
Dean cringes. “None.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No.” Dean doesn’t think that the guy from the club counts. They didn’t do anything and Dean brushed him off anyway. He’d been hit on by other men plenty of times before - with looks like his, who could help themselves? - but he’d never taken anyone up on their offers. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing right now, or a bad thing.
Sam clicks his tongue. “Fair enough. What aren’t you comfortable with? Be honest, I won’t judge you.”
“Enemas,” Dean’s answer comes right away, startling a laugh out of Sam. “I’m sorry, I watched the porn and I... no. Just no.” He shudders, before realizing he’d broke character. “I’m sorry... what do you want me to call you?”
Sam sits on the bed beside him, Dean can hear it creak. “Sam is fine,” he answers. “Sir is dad and Master is... stupid. I always want to laugh when the subs at the places call me that.” Dean nods a little, thankful. He’d hoped Sam had wanted to stay Sam and not be Sir. “What else don’t you like?”
“Sounding. Scat.” Dean did a lot of research.
Sam chuckles again. “Fair enough. What are you into?” He must have looked over at the other bed, and says, “these looks interesting. A paddle, you like to be spanked. Anal plugs, one of which vibrates. Dildos, all vibrators. Hmm... I think I know what started this particular kink, Dean.” Dean shivers all over, at the sound. It’s the same tone Sam used at the club.
His idea had worked. The knot of worry loosened in his chest and he suddenly could breathe a little easier.
At least until Sam spoke again. Dread curled low in Dean’s stomach, and really wished he could see his brother. “Can you prove it, Dean?” Sam had asked and Dean didn’t know how to answer. Not honestly, and not without giving away more than he could afford to lose. “Can you prove to me that you’re mine, and only mine?”
“How can I do that?” Dean answered, mind racing.
Sam sits back on the bed, looking considering. “Could you let me touch you, arouse you and make you burn and not let you come?” Dean tenses at the words but his cock twitches tellingly. “Well then, that looks obvious. Don’t move.”
He slides off the bed and lands beside Dean, settling down beside him. Dean sits as still as he’s able at least until Sam’s hand snakes out and takes his cock. He can’t help the accidental jerk of his hips. For a second he’s a little afraid that Sam will punish him for moving, but Sam just chuckles and tightens his grip. “We’re not going to have a problem with this part, are we Dean?”
If Dean is a little breathless when he responds, Sam doesn’t comment. “No,” he says, twitching.
Sam jerks him off slow and sweet for what seems like hours and when Dean feels his orgasm start to kindle at the base of his spine, his hips jerk and - nothing happens. The cry rips out of his throat before he realizes it’s even there and disappointment swirls in his chest. He wants to fucking come damn it!
He turns his head towards where he hears Sam’s low chuckle and scowls through the blind fold. “Please,” he asks, as nicely as he’s able.
“No, I think not. I think you’re going to get up and take a cold shower and we’ll do this again tomorrow.” Sam sounds blase and noncommital but there’s definitely a line of heat through his tone and no one ever said Dean wasn’t a considerate lover.
“What about you?” he asks, fingers twitching with the desire to reciprocate.
Sam presses a kiss to Dean’s temple. “I come when you do, Dean.”
So Dean gets slowly and painfully off the floor and into the shower where he is so tempted to jerk himself off some more, but doesn’t. He’s not sure why he doesn’t, maybe because he’s still wearing the cock ring, maybe because he knows Sam will be disappointed in him.
He comes out of the shower holding the blindfold and his towel in one hand, the cock ring in the other. “It came off when I got soft,” he says and hands it to Sam.
Sam looks at him narrow eyed for a second before nodding. “Good night, Dean,” he says after a pause.
“Good night, Sam.”
They get into their separate beds and sleep until morning, but after that when they stop for the night, the bed is always a king.
*
It takes a week of being jerked off and not being allowed to orgasm before Dean’s control breaks. It’s three days sooner than Dean thinks and four days longer than Sam’s estimation. Sam puts Dean through another session before sending him to the shower and when Sam opens the door - entirely out of needing something from his kit and not because he doesn’t trust Dean - he finds his brother jerking off. The cock ring is still on, which is something but Sam immediately flashes hot and turns the water off.
It says something about how far gone Dean is that he only notices Sam when he does that rather than when the door opened. “On the bed,” Sam says, a note of steel threading his tone.
“What the hell are you going to do?” Dean asks, hand still wrapped around his red and angry looking penis.
Sam smiles and it’s not a safe look, Dean swallows hard. “Get on,” Sam says, pleasantly enough, “the bed.”
Dean takes a towel with him and dries off as he walks towards their shared bed. “Now what, Sam?” he asks, heart beating faster.
“Arms over your head, legs spread.” Slowly Dean obeys. Things haven’t been too different since starting this... whatever this is, but he has a feeling that’s about to change. Sam pulls leather hand cuffs out of his duffle, and they’re nice, real nice and probably expensive. Dean can’t help but frown a little. Has he used those on other people? “I bought these for you,” Sam says and Dean’s eyes go wide. Can Sam still read his mind, or... “I don’t need to be a mind reader to be able to read your face,” Sam says with an easy smile.
He looks like Dean’s kid brother again and something shakes loose in Dean’s chest.
“Do you trust me, Dean?” And there’s the crux of it. Dean nods reflexively. It’s true, even and maybe especially after the last year they had, he still trusts Sam with his life. It’s his heart he’s not so sure of anymore. The clinking of the locks catching regains Dean’s attention and his eyes are riveted on Sam as he pulls more things from his bag.
First a tube, and Dean’s no stranger to anal sex. He’s fucked a lot of girls and some of them liked some fun things - like anal. But he was pitching, then. Not catching.
Sam pours a little onto his fore finger of his right hand and rubs it around. “I’m going to lock your legs down, too,” he adds absently. “You remember your safe word?”
“Impala,” Dean says instantly. “I won’t forget.”
Sam hooks rope like things around his ankles and Dean tugs at them experimentally, realizing the rope loops around the bottom of the bed. His legs are completely spread and he’s totally exposed.
It’s been years since Dean blushed, and considering how hard his dick his, he’s surprised he can even manage it at the moment. Sam’s lube wet finger presses against his ass, rubbing it into the hole there. Dean tenses but his brother doesn’t do anything more than rub little maddingly circles there until Dean starts shifting his hips trying to get more friction.
He’s so fucking hard he’s ready to burst and he wants more.
Sam eases half his finger in, adding a little more lube. He rotates it around and hits something Dean was only aware of from doctors visits as a teen. His prostrate shoots off electrical sparks that darken his vision and rips a cry from his throat. Sam smiles and touches it again, the smile widening into a grin when Dean’s hips twist up violently.
He puts in half of another finger, pumping shallowly and ignoring Dean’s prostate even though Dean’s whimpering and sweating. “I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” Sam says meditatively, twisting his fingers left and right slowly. “I don’t need to prepare you that much for what I’m going to introduce to you.”
Dean’s eyes fly open when Sam removes his fingers and pulls out a slim black toy. It doesn’t look like much, narrower than a mag light, with a slightly bulbous head. It’s obviously a dildo, but it doesn’t look like it’ll stretch him too much. “This still okay, Dean?”
“Yes, Sam,” he answers instantly, trying to reel down the desire throbbing in his cock. He’s just started to breathe again when Sam nudges the dildo into Dean. Covered in lube it slides easily, thin enough not to bother him.
Sam seats it there, and slides up the bed to press his knee against where it protrudes out of his brother. “This way,” he says authoritatively, “it won’t fall out. And I can feel how desperate you are.” Sam gives Dean’s balls a squeeze and Dean will swear under pain of death that he didn’t squeak when Sam did it.
The dildo presses against his prostrate but it doesn’t move so Dean just starts to relax when it turns on. It’s not just a fucking dildo. It’s a vibrator. Just like at the club Dean saw Sam at.
It buzzes to life, directly against his prostate and Dean shouts, hips and cock jerking. Pre come pumps slowly down his shaft and occasionally Sam drags his fingers through it, licking his hand clean.
When Dean is really twisting he turns the vibrator up a notch. Dean shouts again, biting his lip hard to keep the noises in. He suddenly realizes how the sub felt before, at that club, bound, and tortured.
It feels so fucking good.
The vibrator goes up another notch and Sam grins when Dean’s eyes roll back in his head. “Do you want a gag, Dean?” Dean shakes his head. “Good answer,” Sam says approvingly, and Dean relaxes the rest of the way against the bed.
At least until the vibrations go up again. Dean’s cock jumps so hard it hits his belly and leaves behind a thin sticky stream of pre come there. Sam leans down and licks it off, his hair brushing Dean’s dick. It’s almost too much, Dean shouts again, cock twitching like it’s orgasming but nothing happens. He falls limp against the bed, hips riding Sam’s thigh, trying to urge the vibrator out, trying to orgasm for real.
Instead, Sam turns up the vibrator again. “You’re doing so well Dean,” Sam says softly, against the skin of his belly. “Two more levels to go. Can you do that for me, Dean?” Dean nods frantically because maybe at the end of this, he finally gets to fucking come. Sam shifts his knee against Dean’s balls, pressing them tighter to his body and words finally burst out of Dean.
“Oh fuck,” he says, just lower than a shout. “Oh fuck, do that again.”
Sam does, flexing his thigh against his brother’s balls. They’re red, heavy, full and pulsing, ready to come at the most available time. Sam checks the cock ring again, just in case, making Dean moan again.
He turns the vibrator up. Dean’s thrashing everywhere now, fists tight around the chains holding the cuffs to the bed. His back is arched so far Sam could slide a pillow between his back and the bed if he wanted.
Dean’s pale skin is flushed and hungry looking so Sam licks his nipple and Dean bellows, twisting his chest away - or maybe towards Sam’s greedy mouth. He sucks in Dean’s left nipple and sucks hard. He can feel Dean’s cock jerk in another almost-orgasm as he does. He makes a mental note to remember that Dean’s nipples are sensitive.
He raises the vibration one last time, holding it against Dean’s prostate with numb fingers. Dean is begging now, really begging, words practically incomprehensible. When his cock jerks for a third time, and his dick is so wet with pre come it looks like lube, Sam lowers the vibrator slowly until it turns off.
Dean falls to the bed like his strings have been cut. Sam removes the vibrator but immediately replaces them with his fingers. “Dean, you awake?” he asks, amused.
“Uh huh,” Dean answers hoarsely, swallowing hard.
“Oh good. I’m going to give you a biology lesson. Have you ever heard of prostate milking?” Dean shakes his head, entirely body trembling. “It’s when someone, or something, massages your prostate until you orgasm. But when you orgasm, it empties you of everything, you probably won’t even be able to get it up again after orgasming from prostate milking. So we’re going to experiment with that tonight.” Dean’s eyes fly open and lock on Sam’s. “You wanted to come, so you get to come, Dean. Just not only once.” He smiles again, and it looks better on a shark. “As many times as I want.”
Dean whimpers again and jerks hard when Sam starts rubbing his fingers against his abused prostate. It feels so fucking good though that he’s humping Sam’s hand, muttering, growling, and pleading with him. “Please, please, fuck fuccck, please, take it off, take the ring off, fuck Sammy please I want to come so fucking bad, I’m gonna fucking die. Sammy....”
He can feel something building within him, starting at his toes and the top of his head, growing up or sliding down or both at the same time, sending sparks through his muscles and spine. His orgasm is converging on his prostate, he can feel it pulsing and his cock is twitching and suddenly the pressure keeping him from coming is gone and his body wastes no time.
He orgasms for what feels like forever, twitching with the aftershocks and opening his eyes to see his stomach, thighs, most of the bed and Sam’s hand are covered in his come. Sam licks it off him slowly, cat like, his eyes riveted on Dean’s face. “Breathe now,” Sam warns. “While you still can.”
Then the vibrator is back, on as high as it can go and Dean screams.
He orgasms four times that night.
He’s never slept better.
*
Things get even more intense after that. Sam can’t keep his hands off Dean once they reach that level and he’s completely unprepared for how good it feels. They’d always been a little more tactile than normal brothers, probably brought on from growing up on the road, and living in each others pockets since forever. But this is different.
They still sit on different sides of the tables when at diners, still hunt things and save people, Dean still takes the lead and keeps Sammy safe.
But, behind the doors of their motel room, there is only one bed, and Sam calls all the shots. Sometimes its fun, sometimes it’s maddening and sometimes Dean realizes how fucked he really is. Even though Sam hasn’t fucked him, maybe never will.
For the most part, Sam is content to explore, to touch. A week after Dean comes so hard he can’t get it up for two days afterwards, Sam comes into their room after dinner and he has that look in his eye.
“Strip,” he tells Dean in a voice made for sex. Dean doesn’t hesitate, not any more, and drops everything he’s doing. He slowly closes the lap top, standing as soon as it shuts down correctly. He takes off his shirts, unbuckling his belt and slipping off his jeans.
“Bed?” Dean asks, hoarsely.
Sam tilts his head to the side, looking eerily like Castiel. “Mm,” he murmurs, thinking about it. “For now.” Dean tugs off his boxer-briefs and lays face up on the bed. “There are rules,” Sam warns and Dean nods. “First rule, I’m not tying you up but you’re not allowed to move. Second rule, I’m not using the cock ring tonight but you’re not allowed to come. If you come, we start over.”
Dean has to swallow a few times before he can speak, his throat tight with arousal. “Okay,” he whispers. His cock is already hard and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the control Sam wants from him.
“This,” Sam continues when Dean’s eyes focus back on him, “is a lesson in touch.” He settles in next to Dean, placing one warm hand on Dean’s chest. “I am going to touch you everywhere, with just my hands, and maybe you’ll stop flinching all the time.”
Panic spears through Dean. “Sam,” he says.
“No, it’s okay Dean,” Sam responds. “I understand. We’ll learn together.” He smiles a little, the dimple smile Dean grew up craving. “You ready?”
The tension in the room rises to almost unbearable heights and Dean realizes that everything depends on him. He says no, and it ends. Sam goes back to the bars and the clubs, and an angry dom is going to take him out. “Yes,” he says, too loudly in the dimness of the room. “I’m ready.”
What he means is ‘I’m yours’ but at least Sam doesn’t make him say that part out loud.
Sam nods, his smile widening. “Close your eyes, Dean.” Dean does. He waits in darkness for the first touch. When it comes, he’s shocked even though he was expecting it. He jumps under Sam’s hand and his brother laughs. “Relax Dean.”
Slowly, with some effort, Dean relaxes under Sam’s hand, going boneless and mellow as Sam starts up a back rub. Dean’s weakness has always been a good back massage. Sam keeps at it for long enough that Dean feels like he could fall asleep just the way he is. He’s still hard, but it’s more abstract that anything else, he’s comfortable and mellow and everything just feels good.
He zones as Sam repositions his arms to work down the backs of them, then each hand, which feels like fucking heaven - not that he remembers ever being there, but that’s the way he thinks heaven should feel. Sam moves back to his lower back and Dean shifts a little to give him more access, smiling into the pillow at Sam’s low chuckle.
Sam works his way down both his legs and feet and Dean’s not sure he can stay awake for anything else. Until Sam’s hands find their way onto his ass and spread the cheeks. Dean’s too boneless to tense but he stiffens up. “Relax, Dean,” Sam murmurs, and he must be way closer than Dean thought because he can feel Sam’s breath on his back.
He makes a concentrated effort to, but then Sam’s mouth is on his skin, leaving small sucking bites from his lower back all the way down. He twitches, feeling his cock echo the movement where it’s trapped between his body and the bed. Then Sam does the impossible. Sam spreads his ass cheeks even farther and lays his lips on the hole he finds there. Dean bites down on the pillow and tries not to hump his brother’s face.
It should feel gross, but it feels fucking fantastic. Sam licks at him while using his fingers to massage his ass, perineum and the underside of his balls - which he didn’t know were that sensitive, holy shit. Dean can’t even help the noises he’s making, he tries to bite them back but they’re escaping anyway. He can feel Sam’s smile against his skin though and eventually even gives up trying.
Finally after an eternity of torture, Sam pulls away with a wet slurping noise and says, a trifle hoarsely, “roll over, Dean.”
It takes two false starts before Dean can roll over and his eyes go wide when he sees his cock. It’s huge. Red, throbbing and it looks angry. Dean squeaks and closes his eyes quickly.
He’s not going to last.
But Sam starts out at his feet again, giving the tops of each foot and leg a thorough rub down until the throbbing in his cock abates somewhat. Each time he works his way up Dean’s thigh, Dean gets ready for his brother’s hands on his cock, but once each leg is done, Sam skips right over his dick and goes for his belly.
Sam’s hands trace every scar Dean has, massaging lightly over each hip bone, long palm rolls over the skin on his stomach, then back down with just his finger nails. Dean’s covered in goose bumps by the time Sam moves up to his chest.
He’s just started to relax again when Sam pinches both his nipples at the same time. They’re both surprised when he comes. Sam blinks, then cracks a grin. “I knew you were sensitive Dean, but really?”
Dean drops his head back on the pillow. “Shit,” he says quietly. He rolls over before Sam can tell him, adjusting himself accordingly.
“Are you hiding?” Sam asks incredulously.
“No ” Dean says. “You told me if I came, we were going to start over.” He buries his face further into the pillow. “And I came.”
“So I did,” Sam murmurs, running a finger down Dean’s spine.
So he starts again.
Dean comes once more before he makes it through the whole exercise without coming. He’s hard as nails by the end, and panting for it. His hands are buried in the blankets, curled so tightly he’s pulled up the sheets from the edge of the bed. Sam sits back, looking Dean over. “You did well,” Sam tells him, with another baby brother smile.
Dean lets out the breath he’d been holding. “Can I-?” he starts to ask but cuts himself off.
“Can you what, Dean?” Sam asks, smile widening.
He struggles with himself for a second before saying, “come. Can I come, please, Sam?”
Sam looks at him for a long minute. “Yes, Dean,” he says eventually. “You can come.” He reaches over and grasps Dean’s sore cock but Dean whimpers and flinches. “Too sensitive?” Sam asks, with a small smile. “We’ll try something else.” Then Sam leans over and licks a stripe from Dean’s balls to the head of his twitching erection.
It takes a full minute of little kitten like licks around the head of his hard on before Dean gasps out a warning and comes against Sam’s lips. He’s still wrecked, ten minutes later when Sam gets back in the bed after cleaning them off and removing the soiled linens. When Sam slides under the covers, Dean almost immediately curls into him.
They sleep that way, tangled like puppies.
Dean feels like everything’s changed.
*
They’re solving a case in the middle of nowhere Illinois, when Dean realizes everything has changed. Things are easier; he and Sam have always moved around each other with a grace borne of time, but everything clicks even more smoothly. Sam is at his laptop with Dean leaning over him, pointing out something on the screen when he figures it out. Sam must realize something’s wrong because he half turns in his seat and says, “what? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says sharply. “I’m fine.” Sam quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t respond. Dean is close to his face, too close. It comes on as suddenly as his revelation does. He and Sam have done everything they can do between the sheets except for two things: Sam hasn’t fucked Dean. They haven’t kissed.
Looking down into Sam’s slightly confused gaze, Dean realizes another two things: if this was anyone else (like Cassie) he’d have started kissing them already, and, what if Sam didn’t want Dean to kiss him? “You sure?” Sam asks after another moment of tense silence where neither of them moves.
“Yeah,” Dean says softly, and to himself, fuck it. He drops a casual kiss on Sam’s lips and wanders over to the bed to clean the guns. He dares a glance at Sam, Sam who looks completely befuddled and adorable with it.
He’s just started to take apart his favorite gun when Sam walks across the room and gently threads his fingers through Dean’s un-styled hair. “What was that, Dean?”
“What was what?” Dean responds, trying too hard to keep his tone light.
“Uh, dude, you kissed me.”
Dean raises an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah,” he replies in the same tone. “What about it?”
The expression that crosses his brother’s face is a cross between exasperation and frustration and Dean loves putting it there. “I didn’t... I didn’t think you wanted to,” Sam says eventually.
Pressing his lips together, Dean starts methodically taking apart the gun to oil and clean it. “Well,” he says, as soon as his hands are busy, “why not?” It’s rhetorically though and he answers himself before Sam can do much more than breathe in to respond. “We’re together, aren’t we?”
Sam brushes his fingers through Dean’s hair, once, twice. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I guess we are.”
The next day, laying on the table on Dean’s side of the bed is a thick leather bracelet with shining buckles in three places. It fits four small throwing daggers, but it clearly isn’t the point.
It says ‘mine’.
Sam’s in the shower when Dean puts it on, he probably planned it that way. Hand shaking, Dean lifts it from the wooden bedside table and latches it on to his left wrist. It fits comfortably, not so tight to kill the circulation, not so loose as to fall off around his hand. He stares at it until he hears the water turn off. When he hears Sam moving around in the bathroom, Dean gets out of bed, tugging on a t-shirt and sitting at the laptop to review the case notes. He leaves his boxers on, but doesn’t bother with the jeans.
He very carefully doesn’t look at Sam when his brother comes out of the bathroom, but he knows that Sam looks at the bedside table first before coming over to see what Dean’s looking at. “What’ve we got?” he asks, leaning over Dean’s shoulder, his fingers warm on Dean’s upper arm.
“It’s definitely a salt and burn,” Dean says, using his free hand to point to the screen. “I didn’t see it last night but there’s definitely a pattern.” He clicks to another page on the website. “All female, all within the ages of 18 and 25. That’s why it let that last girl live, it was her birthday, she’d just turned 26. She didn’t fit the pattern.”
“Any idea who the ghost is?” Sam asks, running distracting hands over Dean’s back and shoulders.
“No, not yet.”
They work the case for the next two days.
*
On their way out of town, Dean stops at a coffee shop that has the mocha frappe chino things that Sam likes. “You want anything, babe?” Dean asks his brother absently as he’s getting out of the car.
“Um.” Sam sounds a little surprised. “Nah, I’m good.”
When Dean gets out of the car, Sam opens his laptop to look at perspective cases. There’s a possible haunting in Witchita Falls, Texas. And something that looks like it could be a shapeshifter in Denver, Colorado. Sam turns in the seat to grab his notebook and nearly has a heart attack when he almost reaches into Castiel’s lap. “Hello, Sam,” he says in a pleasant monotone.
Sam twitches, nearly losing the notebook on his knees. “What the hell, Cas,” Sam says when he can breathe again. “Wear a bell or something.”
Cas blinks, tilting his head to one side. “You want me to put a bell on? I thought you’d rather collar Dean, Sam.”
“Oh jesus,” Sam says, covering his face with one hand. “What do you want, Cas?” he asks, muffled.
“I am merely here to ascertain whether or not your mental health is failing,” he says, leaning forward to touch Sam between the eyes. “You seem to be doing quite well, all things considered.”
Sam closes his eyes, feeling... something... flow through Castiel’s fingers into him. “Yeah,” he adds finally, “I’m okay.”
Castiel pulled his hand away. “You are making him happy?”
“Um,” Sam says, “I think so.”
“Ask him,” Castiel suggests. “And... be safe.”
When Sam opens his eyes and looks into the back seat, Castiel is gone. He turns back to the research on his lap, staring at it without seeing it. When Dean gets back in the car, a carmel macchiato in one hand and a small baggie in the other. “Hey, I got you a pumpkin scone,” Dean says, dumping it in his lap.
Sam reaches over without speaking and unclasps Dean’s bracelet. Dean freezes as soon as it’s off. “Are you happy, Dean?” Sam asks. “Is this really what you want?”
Dean is silent. He can’t come up with anything to say. The longer the silence goes on, the farther Sam’s face falls. Slowly, he takes his hand away from Dean’s wrist, taking the bracelet with him. “Oh,” he says quietly, “oh jesus Dean, I’m sorry.” He puts down the research, the scone, the drink and opens the door. He’s closing it behind him before Dean’s brain catches up with him.
“Son of a... Sam, hang on, Sam!” But when he gets out of the car, his brother is gone.
The bracelet is sitting on the bed when he finally gets back to the motel.
Sam’s things are gone.
* Part Two