Lumps
Title: Lumps
Author: hunters_retreat
Series: Story's End
Pairing:Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sam had gotten off twice with his brother’s touch and while Dean had worried lately that maybe Sam was feeling some of what Dean was, he’d always hoped he was wrong. He’d hoped that Sam having friends and boyfriends and girlfriends meant he wasn’t isolating himself and holding onto the trust issues a hunting life had given Dean.
Author's Note: Because I wanted to see Dean deal with the events of the last story. :P
Dean stared down at his bed, unmoving. He noticed things in the periphery. Sam’s words, the sound of the shower running, Sam rushing past his door and out the back.
He noticed that Sam didn’t get in his car and drive to work, even though he’d said he was going. He noticed Sam didn’t stop to say good bye when he went out the back door.
He noticed the spot on his bed. The wet spot on his sheets where his brother had come. He noticed the come spread across his fingers, his own, from smearing it across his brother’s hole.
He noticed the pain in Sam’s voice when he’d looked back at Dean. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”
He didn’t know how long he sat, staring at the spot. It had dried by the time Dean reached a hand out. He’d done that to his brother. He’d been dreaming. Jesus, he would never have touched Sam while he was awake. God knows Dean had issues by the bucket load but he would never have… not awake.
It’d been five months since Sam had last fallen asleep beside him. They’d been doing okay. But Dean slept better when Sam was with him. He’d dreamed of Sam again, a Sam that loved him in ways he shouldn’t, that welcomed Dean’s hands on his skin and loved the way Dean leaned over him, his whole body covering him.
He woke to a Sam that ran from him, shaky voice and shame so deep Dean couldn’t move past it.
His phone rang and Dean was startled out of his thoughts. He didn’t pick it up, just looked to see that it wasn’t Sam before he got out of bed and got in the shower.
He closed his eyes under the hot spray and tried to let go of the panic that was trying to creep in. Sam knew him. Sam knew… had to know that Dean would never…
Sam did. And Sam was sure as hell strong enough to stop Dean from … doing what he’d done... but he hadn't.
Shit. He couldn’t even say it in his head. He leaned against the back wall of the shower stall and looked up at the ceiling. He’d pushed Sam down onto the mattress and rubbed his dick against his brother’s ass. He’d felt Sam’s movements and he’d helped Sam get himself off before he’d come all over Sam’s ass. And then he’d smeared it over Sam’s hole and started to finger him. What would he have done if Sam hadn’t come then? If Sam hadn’t called his name out like he had and woke Dean to the fact that it wasn’t a dream? Would he have fucked Sam, like he wanted? Would Sam have let him?
“Jesus,” Dean swore as he turned the water off. He dried off quickly and brushed his teeth but when he looked at himself in the mirror he couldn’t stop the question that was rolling around in his head.
Why didn’t Sam stop him? He could have. Sam was a hell of a fighter. If he didn’t want … If Sam hadn’t wanted Dean to touch him he would have stopped him.
The spot on Dean’s bed seemed so much more damning now. Because Sam got off once while Dean helped him, but the second time Dean had barely fingered him. Sam had gotten off twice with his brother’s touch and while Dean had worried lately that maybe Sam was feeling some of what Dean was, he’d always hoped he was wrong. He’d hoped that Sam having friends and boyfriends and girlfriends meant he wasn’t isolating himself and holding onto the trust issues a hunting life had given Dean.
He couldn’t decide what was worse. That Dean had enacted his dreams on Sam and Sam had let him then run? Or if Sam had been an active participant and wanted it?
Dean couldn’t decide. He didn’t know how to.
Sam didn’t come back for lunch and Dean didn’t have an appetite so he went out and sat on the front step of the porch with a beer. He didn’t go back inside until dark had truly fallen.
He heard Sam go in the back and he turned his head just enough to make sure no one had followed Sam but his brother went straight for the shower. Dean downed the warm beer to try to deaden the ache inside him but slipped past the bathroom and back into his bedroom before Sam could see him.
He stripped his bed and put on fresh sheets before he crawled under the covers to sleep.
It didn’t come.
Sam did. Around three in the morning, Dean heard the door open. He felt the bed dip in front of him but he didn’t say anything. Sam curled up in front of him but he wasn’t touching Dean. After a few more minutes he relaxed into Dean’s bed and his breathing began to even out.
Dean didn’t know what to say because as much as he wanted to pull his brother close, he couldn’t. He couldn’t comfort Sam like this. He couldn’t turn him away either. He stayed on his side, eyes closed so he didn’t have to see his brother’s struggle.
When Sam let out a deep breath, Dean knew something was about to happen. Sam didn’t use his words like Dean feared he would though. Instead, Sam pushed back until he was flush against Dean’s body.
Dean stilled. He didn’t want to reject Sam but he couldn’t do this again. They couldn’t.
No matter what Dean felt, he knew what Sam being in his bed again meant. Sam had wanted it to happen. Sam had wanted Dean to touch him and he had gotten off on his brother’s touch.
Dean pulled away and sat up in the bed. He didn’t say anything, but he quickly got out of bed and closed the door behind him when he left the room.
He grabbed an extra blanket and dropped onto the couch in the living room and lied to himself that it was the lumps that were going to keep him awake all night.
On to Why?
Author: hunters_retreat
Series: Story's End
Pairing:Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sam had gotten off twice with his brother’s touch and while Dean had worried lately that maybe Sam was feeling some of what Dean was, he’d always hoped he was wrong. He’d hoped that Sam having friends and boyfriends and girlfriends meant he wasn’t isolating himself and holding onto the trust issues a hunting life had given Dean.
Author's Note: Because I wanted to see Dean deal with the events of the last story. :P
Dean stared down at his bed, unmoving. He noticed things in the periphery. Sam’s words, the sound of the shower running, Sam rushing past his door and out the back.
He noticed that Sam didn’t get in his car and drive to work, even though he’d said he was going. He noticed Sam didn’t stop to say good bye when he went out the back door.
He noticed the spot on his bed. The wet spot on his sheets where his brother had come. He noticed the come spread across his fingers, his own, from smearing it across his brother’s hole.
He noticed the pain in Sam’s voice when he’d looked back at Dean. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”
He didn’t know how long he sat, staring at the spot. It had dried by the time Dean reached a hand out. He’d done that to his brother. He’d been dreaming. Jesus, he would never have touched Sam while he was awake. God knows Dean had issues by the bucket load but he would never have… not awake.
It’d been five months since Sam had last fallen asleep beside him. They’d been doing okay. But Dean slept better when Sam was with him. He’d dreamed of Sam again, a Sam that loved him in ways he shouldn’t, that welcomed Dean’s hands on his skin and loved the way Dean leaned over him, his whole body covering him.
He woke to a Sam that ran from him, shaky voice and shame so deep Dean couldn’t move past it.
His phone rang and Dean was startled out of his thoughts. He didn’t pick it up, just looked to see that it wasn’t Sam before he got out of bed and got in the shower.
He closed his eyes under the hot spray and tried to let go of the panic that was trying to creep in. Sam knew him. Sam knew… had to know that Dean would never…
Sam did. And Sam was sure as hell strong enough to stop Dean from … doing what he’d done... but he hadn't.
Shit. He couldn’t even say it in his head. He leaned against the back wall of the shower stall and looked up at the ceiling. He’d pushed Sam down onto the mattress and rubbed his dick against his brother’s ass. He’d felt Sam’s movements and he’d helped Sam get himself off before he’d come all over Sam’s ass. And then he’d smeared it over Sam’s hole and started to finger him. What would he have done if Sam hadn’t come then? If Sam hadn’t called his name out like he had and woke Dean to the fact that it wasn’t a dream? Would he have fucked Sam, like he wanted? Would Sam have let him?
“Jesus,” Dean swore as he turned the water off. He dried off quickly and brushed his teeth but when he looked at himself in the mirror he couldn’t stop the question that was rolling around in his head.
Why didn’t Sam stop him? He could have. Sam was a hell of a fighter. If he didn’t want … If Sam hadn’t wanted Dean to touch him he would have stopped him.
The spot on Dean’s bed seemed so much more damning now. Because Sam got off once while Dean helped him, but the second time Dean had barely fingered him. Sam had gotten off twice with his brother’s touch and while Dean had worried lately that maybe Sam was feeling some of what Dean was, he’d always hoped he was wrong. He’d hoped that Sam having friends and boyfriends and girlfriends meant he wasn’t isolating himself and holding onto the trust issues a hunting life had given Dean.
He couldn’t decide what was worse. That Dean had enacted his dreams on Sam and Sam had let him then run? Or if Sam had been an active participant and wanted it?
Dean couldn’t decide. He didn’t know how to.
Sam didn’t come back for lunch and Dean didn’t have an appetite so he went out and sat on the front step of the porch with a beer. He didn’t go back inside until dark had truly fallen.
He heard Sam go in the back and he turned his head just enough to make sure no one had followed Sam but his brother went straight for the shower. Dean downed the warm beer to try to deaden the ache inside him but slipped past the bathroom and back into his bedroom before Sam could see him.
He stripped his bed and put on fresh sheets before he crawled under the covers to sleep.
It didn’t come.
Sam did. Around three in the morning, Dean heard the door open. He felt the bed dip in front of him but he didn’t say anything. Sam curled up in front of him but he wasn’t touching Dean. After a few more minutes he relaxed into Dean’s bed and his breathing began to even out.
Dean didn’t know what to say because as much as he wanted to pull his brother close, he couldn’t. He couldn’t comfort Sam like this. He couldn’t turn him away either. He stayed on his side, eyes closed so he didn’t have to see his brother’s struggle.
When Sam let out a deep breath, Dean knew something was about to happen. Sam didn’t use his words like Dean feared he would though. Instead, Sam pushed back until he was flush against Dean’s body.
Dean stilled. He didn’t want to reject Sam but he couldn’t do this again. They couldn’t.
No matter what Dean felt, he knew what Sam being in his bed again meant. Sam had wanted it to happen. Sam had wanted Dean to touch him and he had gotten off on his brother’s touch.
Dean pulled away and sat up in the bed. He didn’t say anything, but he quickly got out of bed and closed the door behind him when he left the room.
He grabbed an extra blanket and dropped onto the couch in the living room and lied to himself that it was the lumps that were going to keep him awake all night.
On to Why?