Show You How
Dean wasn’t sure what Sammy was doing up there but all the slamming of doors and drawers was sure making a lot of noise; it was almost like he had lost something and was looking for it. Only thing was Sammy wasn’t the kind of kid to lose things. Sammy was a good kid, put things back where they belong and looked after his stuff; Dean had taught him that.
Hell, Dean had taught Sammy everything. Even before he should have been, Dean was being left alone with Sammy. By five years old Dean was responsible for taking care of his baby brother. Even if their father was at home, he was in no shape to look after a baby. When John Winchester was home he was researching; trying to find what had killed Mary or the bottom of a whiskey bottle. It didn’t seem to matter which as long as he didn’t have to look at the two things that reminded him the most of Mary.
The first thing Dean remembered teaching Sammy was how to hold his own bottle. That way if Dean fell asleep during the 5 o’clock feeding he didn’t drop it and cause Sammy to cry. Most things Dean taught his brother were to keep him from crying. Dean did and would continue to do anything to keep his little brother happy.
A particularly loud thump jarred Dean from his thoughts. He wanted to go upstairs and offer to help find whatever is was that Sam was searching for, but lately Sam didn’t want anything to do with him. Sometime in the last couple of weeks Dean had become the one Sam took everything out on. It didn’t matter whether it was a bad day at school or a fight with dad; Dean was now the enemy.
Nothing he did was right anymore; it was all wrong and it was killing him. The only thing worse than seeing Sammy upset was not being able to make it better. As he packed away the knives he had been sharpening and gathered up his tools he remembered the first time he had been unable to make everything better for his brother.
It had been five years ago, Sam’s eighth birthday, and Dean had been unable to get the one thing Sam had wanted; a new bicycle. Dean had worked odd jobs after school saving all the money to buy a beautiful blue Schwin for Sammy. He had tucked it away, making sure it was well hidden, or at least he had thought he had. Sammy’s birthday was falling on a Sunday that year so Dean had planned on buying the bike Saturday evening just before the store closed. He had managed to save enough money to pay the owner for assembling the bike; allowing him to sneak it in without Sammy seeing it ahead of time.
Dean had finished his chores and made sure Sam was happily watching cartoons with a snack and juice before he headed out to the small shed attached to the back of the house. He had been hiding his savings in a cigar box on one of the high shelves well out of Sammy’s reach. A howl of frustration, anger and pain tore from his chest when he had pulled the box down and opened it; only to find it empty.
Tears burned trails down his cheeks when he dropped to his knees in front of his little brother and he sobbed out an apology for everything he wasn’t able to give and do for Sammy. He had cried and begged for forgiveness until Sammy had slid forward on the couch and pulled his big brother into his lap offering what comfort he could; since he really hadn’t understood much of what Dean had been trying to tell him.
Dean was halfway up the stairs when he heard the first little pained noises. He increased his pace as he unsheathed one of the freshly sharpened blades; preparing to confront whatever was causing pain to his little brother. Scenario after scenario flashed through Dean’s mind as he came to the landing. He took a moment to listen quietly, pin pointing exactly where the noises were coming from.
To his best guess, Sam was in the bathroom; door closed and light off. Quickly deciding on his plan of attack Dean slid along the wall; back pressed tight against the wallpaper, knife firmly clamped between his teeth leaving both hands empty. He put his plan into action; flinging the door open and flipping on the light switch.
Sam wasn’t in any danger.
His only reaction to Dean’s intrusion was to snap his eyes open and increase his desperate mewling; otherwise he continued the relentless jerking on his dick. Dean took the blade from his mouth and laid it on the edge of the sink. Calmly he washed his hands and dried them before turning his attention to Sam’s obvious predicament.
“Sammy?” Dean called softly sitting on the edge of the bathtub opposite his brother’s position on the toilet.
“Dean…” Sam whined.
Gently, Dean took hold of Sam’s wrist, slowing its frantic jacking until it stopped altogether. Sam didn’t struggle when Dean pulled his hand off his cock and ran two of his own fingers up the shaft. Dean flinched at the feeling of dry almost chapped skin he felt there. Now he knew why Sam had been making such pained noises.
Still holding his younger brother’s wrist in one hand, he stood up drawing Sam with him. Sam followed as best he could; jeans and underwear still around his ankles. On his way out of the bathroom Dean paused long enough to open the medicine cabinet and retrieve a bottle of lube. As the mirrored door swung closed he saw Sam’s chagrinned expression reflected back at him.
“Where did you think I kept it Sammy?” Dean asked doing his best not to chuckle.
“Not in the medicine cabinet, that’s for sure.” Sam admitted.
Dean shook his head slightly as he realized why his brother had been so angry with him for the last few weeks. He really didn’t blame him now that he knew what was at the heart of it. Dean should have been paying attention. Sammy was 13 and if Dean remembered correctly he had ended up frustrated and ready to kill something the first few times he’d attempted to masturbate. It hadn’t been painful or anything. He just hadn’t counted on a curious seven year old brother interrupting him every time he got his hand around his cock.
Dean led Sam into their bedroom. After getting Sam situated on the bed, Dean climbed up behind him. He sat with as much of his body touching Sam’s as he could. His chest to Sam’s back, jean clad thighs tight against Sam’s bare ones. Dean would have preferred to be able to see what he was doing but since Sam was now taller then him, he had to settle for resting his cheek against Sam’s shoulder blade.
“You okay Sammy?” Dean asked when the click of the lube snapping open made him jump.
“Yeah.” Sam mumbled; biting his bottom, “Jus’ startled me.”
“Sorry. Just relax. I’ll show you how to do this. Make it good for you.” Dean promised.
“I know Dean.” Sam nodded leaning back against his brother’s chest, “You always make things good.”
Dean squirted a generous amount of lube into his palm as he rubbed his cheek against the firm muscles of Sam’s shoulder. It kind of surprised him how solid Sam felt against him. Part of his mind was locked in a loop of how good the large body in front of him felt, the rest was reminding him that it was Sammy, his baby brother. Dean sought Sam’s hand with his dry one. Finding it, slightly fisted on Sam’s thigh, Dean slid his hand into it and let their fingers twine. He held that hand while he gently wrapped the other one around his brother’s still hard dick.
“Oh god.” Sam moaned low; his whole body shuddering.
“See how much better it feels like this?” Dean asked.
“Yeah.” Sam agreed.
They sat like that; left hands clasped loosely beside them, right ones wrapped around Sam’s cock. Dean showed Sam what to do with his fingers; like how to twist them just so near the top to catch the bundle of nerves under the crown and how to flick his thumb across the head both catching the pre-come and getting that extra jolt of pleasure. With Sam’s hand on top, he was able to set the rhythm and increase the pressure of Dean’s grip when Dean’s soft touch wasn’t enough to satisfy him.
When Dean felt Sam getting close to going over the edge he tried to take his hand away intending to let his brother finish for himself. Sam didn’t let that happen. He tightened his fist around his brother’s and whined in the back of his throat when Dean tried to pull away a second time.
“Dean…” Sam begged, “Want you to finish.”
“Okay Sammy.” Dean relented; speeding up the strokes to match the thrust of Sam’s hip as they bucked off the bed.
Dean felt the moment his brother’s climax hit. The solid wall of Sam’s back went stiff under his cheek just before he felt the hot thick ropes of semen cover his fingers and spread down the back of his hand. He continued for a few stokes after Sam’s hand fell away. A moment later Dean had both hands on his brother’s chest drawing him back and turning him on his side to lie down on the bed.
After maneuvering Sam so his entire body was stretched out lengthwise on the bed, Dean helped Sam out of his t-shirt. While getting him situated he had inadvertently made a mess on Sam’s chest. Dean used the shirt to clean the rest of Sam’s come off his hand and then tossed the shirt in the laundry basket by the bedroom door.
“Dean.” Sam called from the bed.
“Yeah?” Dean stopped and looked back.
“Thanks.” Sam smiled shyly.
“No problem Sammy.” Dean returned the shy smile.
cross posted