Just Breathe Chap 8/?
Title: Just Breathe Chapter 8/?
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wincest, underage
Word Count: 2,619
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Dad is away and Sam falls ill leaving Dean to deal with a sick brother. Dean finally gives in to what he wants.
Author Notes: Title from Faith Hill song. Also, as always completely unbeta-ed.
A/N 2: Check out the rating...I wrote porn! My first so please be kind.
Dean’s body was in motion before he was awake enough to know why; something penetrating through his dreams to cause his muscles to react. As feet touched linoleum and eyes pried open, he heard it again. A whimper, just an exhalation with the barest trace of sound really, accompanied by the rustling of sheets. Looking over, he saw Sam’s face scrunched up as his head thrashed back and forth on the crisp linen pillowcase. Dean stood and reached over, his hand going to his brother’s shoulder to rub a calming pattern over the joint.
“Shhhhh.”
Sam stilled, his next breath a calming sigh instead of the previously distressed whine. Dean sat back on his cot, his fingers slowly sliding off Sam’s arm. As the pad of his middle finger fell free, Sam began to shift and his brows came together again. Replacing his hand and watching Sam calm once more, Dean was struck violently by the memory of his brother as a baby in the back seat of the Impala. After the fire Sam cried a lot, a motherless baby in search of comfort, only consoled if he could feel Dean. Those first few weeks found Dean’s hand a permanent fixture on Sam. Baby Sam never demanded his older brother’s attention, even though it was always given freely, just his touch. Taught at the tender age of 6 months to be satisfied with the least that could be offered.
Funny how life comes full circle.
Glancing back at the roll away bed, he tried to judge the possibility of crawling back in and keeping a hand on his brother. Dean sighed and circled Sam’s bed, his hand trailing down one leg and up the other, fingers never lifting or lessening in pressure. He lowered the bedrail and climbed in behind him, arm, careful of the injured ribs, wrapping around the younger man’s waist.
Sam was shivering and Dean shifted closer, molding his body against Sam’s back, trying to siphon off some of his natural warmth into him. Dean settled his head on Sam’s pillow, vision filled with shaggy brown hair, and moved forward to bury his nose in the soft locks. Under the scent of the hospital, Dean could still smell Sam’s shampoo, the same baby formula he’d washed Sam’s hair with since he had hair, the same baby formula their mother had used on his own. He inhaled deeply, pulling the scent into his lungs. Dean’s lips parted and mouthed at the curling ends at the base of Sam’s neck before he moved a fraction of an inch closer to press wet lips to the skin beneath. Licking his lips, his eyes involuntarily closed as the taste of Sam’s skin burst across his tongue.
See how things progress? First kissing, now creepy brother licking. Get a grip, man. Bite me.
Dean pulled back, but kept his nose slotted in the brown tresses to continue to breath Sam scented air. He slid the hand over his brother’s waist up until his palm rested over Sam’s heart.
Dean jerked imperceptibly and cracked an eye, hunter instincts on alert, when he felt a presence in the room. His heart sped up when his slitted gaze fell on Casey moving beside the bed. So far she’d been compassionate and understanding of Dean’s need to be near Sam, but he wasn’t sure that would extend to finding him, well, for all intents and purposes, snuggled up behind him.
Casey’s face remained pleasantly passive as if the brothers’ position was of little concern as she lifted Dean’s arm off Sam’s and set it down across Sam’s waist well below the outer perimeter of bruising on his ribs. She tenderly maneuvered Sam’s arm to surround it with a blood pressure cuff and as the machine softly whirred, she placed the tip of a thermometer in his ear. Taking a small pad of paper from her front pocket, she wrote down the numbers obtained by the two machines before ejecting the plastic cover on the thermometer tip into the garbage can and as quietly as possible removed the cuff from Sam’s arm. At the sound of the Velcro separating, Sam stirred in his sleep, a soft whimper falling from his lips. Casey reached over and swept the tips of her finger across Sam’s forehead and the boy slipped back into a deep slumber. Her gaze slid over the now sleeping man to his less sleeping brother to see green eyes watching her movements. Smiling, she lightly took Dean’s hand and moved it back into position over Sam’s heart. Bending over, she pressed a tender kiss to Dean’s temple.
“Sleep, Dean. You’re both safe here.”
A sense of calm and peace stole over him and he burrowed into Sam’s back again. He heard her say something else, but sleep beckoned and Dean followed.
Dean was in that sleepy, warm place again, that lying in the sun space in time. He nestled into it further, allowing it to seep under his skin. Soft lips pressed against his and electricity zinged down the nerve pathways of his spine lighting his entire body up with a tingling desire. Dean’s mouth, well versed in the art of kissing, moved on its own, parting slightly and gently dancing with those on his.
Even with his vast repertoire, he had never experienced a kiss like this before. He’d shared hungry, devouring kisses; needy, reassuring kisses; and dirty, seductive kisses, but this was different. The lips that were bold enough to initiate the contact turned tentative and questioning like the owner wasn’t sure Dean wanted to be kissed and he found that hesitant touch to be blindingly hot. His head shifted on the pillow to get a better angle on the moist skin gliding against his, tongue slipping forward, communicating his want and permission through his actions. Sensing his intentions, a tongue met him half-way and as the tips touched, Dean’s body jolted into the warmth in front of him.
Spurred on by his desire, his hand reached up tangling in long hair and he thrust his tongue forward into the hot, wet cavern taking control. A vaguely familiar flavor exploded on his taste buds as he deepened the kiss. Dean’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath through his nose, reluctant to break the contact even for oxygen. Smells invaded his senses and mixed with the taste ramping up his lust further: faint traces of sweat, sun, iodine and baby shampoo.
Baby shampoo?
Dean‘s head jerked back breaking the kiss. His eyes snapped open for the first time since rousing and took in the form of his brother lying in front of him looking flushed and dazed. Somehow Sam had disentangled himself from the wires attached to the monitor and shed the oxygen mask. Dean knew he should protest and make his brother put them back on, but at this particular moment he really had more pressing concerns. Searching the hazel orbs he’d centered his life around for 17 years for how badly he’d fucked everything in his world up, all he found was love and invitation.
“Sammy?”
“Please…” Sam’s eyes slid closed as he whispered the word, breath ghosting over Dean’s lips. Sucking in a harsh breath, Dean pulled Sam’s exhalation into his lungs, into his soul.
Pushing forward, Dean closed his eyes too. He knew the sight of Sam almost as well as he knew himself and as much as he wanted to see him in this new light, he wanted to feel him first; let his other senses create the vision. His tongue returned home to Sam’s mouth and began to map every inch of the inside, savoring the taste there; fingers traced the contours of Sam’s stomach before skimming over his sides to run up and down the muscles of his back, ears soaked in the sounds of Sam’s labored breathing as he tried to draw in air without pulling away and everywhere Sam’s smell assaulted him. Lightly he dragged the fingertips of one hand up and the other hand down, grazing the exposed skin between the two sides of Sam’s hospital gown, until they met the ties at the neck and mid-back. Working the bows loose, Dean pulled the thin fabric forward and his mouth latched on Sam’s collarbone as he slid his brother’s arms free. He wasn’t sure what all Sam’s ‘please’ encompassed but decided to keep going until he was told to stop.
He dragged his hand up Sam’s arm followed by his mouth, tongue laving and teeth scraping over muscle and skin. At the round of the shoulder, his lips headed to Sam’s neck while his hand ran down Sam’s side feeling smooth skin interrupted by the odd scar here and there that Dean’s mind automatically supplied a date and place for before curling over his waist.
He felt Sam’s fingers creep under his t-shirt and his warm palms smooth over the muscles of Dean’s chest. Passing by his nipples, Sam flicked the buds causing Dean to groan and tighten his grip on his brother. Reaching Dean’s clavicles, Sam’s questing hands made a u-turn and began a lazy route down Dean’s ribs until they reached the waistband of his jeans. Nimble fingers delved under the fabric and drew forward until they came together at the button. Heat shot through Dean at the tugging sensation of Sam slipping the button from the hole and lowering the zipper and he moved his hands down to cup Sam’s ass, hips jolting up when he discovered that Sam hadn’t had underwear on beneath the gown.
He sighed when he felt his cock released from the confining pressure of his pants, quickly turning into a moan when Sam’s cool fingers ventured into his boxer-briefs and pulled him free of the cotton.
“Oh, God. Sammy,” he groaned, eyelids flying open desperate to see Sam’s hand wrapped around him.
Panting hard, Dean rested his forehead on Sam’s shoulder as his brother began to move his hand mind-blowingly over his hard length, down…up…twist…swipe…repeat. The hand not already preoccupied on Dean’s body cupped the back of his head.
“It’s alright, Dean. I want this. I want you.”
At those words, whispered in his ear, Dean’s body flew into motion. His head lifted again to claim Sam’s mouth as his hand traveled forward over the sharp jut of Sam’s hip bone and batted Sam’s hand away from him. As the hand still squeezing and massaging Sam’s ass glided up to rest on the small of his back and pull him forward, Dean wrapped his other hand around both their cocks. Simultaneous moans escaped their lips as the silky, precome streaked fleshes were pressed together. The moans turned to cries when Dean moved his hand up and down, their natural lubrication allowing them to slide easily in the circle of Dean’s fingers and against each other, bringing them the friction they both so desperately needed. Dean released Sam’s mouth to gulp huge lungfuls of air as fire tore through him and he felt Sam’s warm breath next to his ear gasping his name in between frantic inhales.
Dean’s balls tightened at the sound of his name in Sam’s throaty, sex blown voice and he bit his bottom lip to hold back when the need to cum slammed into him. Sam noticing the motion leaned forward and ran his tongue over the abused flesh then moved lower over his jaw and down to the portion of skin where shoulder meets neck. Licking once, Sam reared back slightly before biting hard, rolling the skin between his teeth then licking again to soothe the sting away. Dean whimpered and stretched his neck to the side, giving Sam more room to work.
Sam began to mouth and nibble his way over Dean’s shoulder and Dean was lost in the sensory overload of Sam all around him. He tightened the hand around them as he worked harder to bring them their release, desperate to see Sam come undone.
He heard a cough and lifted his head to see Sam continuing his teeth, lip, tongue exploration of his chest. Another cough followed then several more, each bone rattling and deep, but Sam’s mouth never left Dean’s body. A raspy ‘Dean’ in Sam’s voice that definitely did not come from the brother licking his nipple made him stop all movement.
“Dean!”
Waking was akin to having a band-aid ripped off, raw and painful. Sam was leaning over the bedrail in front of him clutching his side as more coughs wracked his thin frame. Finally, catching a breath that gave Dean enough time to move back slightly on the bed, Sam leaned back panting.
“Sorry, I woke you. It hurts,” Sam mumbled sleepily, his voice hoarse from the cough.
Reaching over to the table to get Sam’s cup of water, he held it to his brother’s lips allowing Sam to take several long swallows before setting it down. “Don’t worry about it, Sammy. Just try to go back to sleep.”
Dean rubbed a hand over Sam’s chest until the rise and fall evened out. Moving slowly, careful to not wake Sam, Dean slipped off the bed and headed into the bathroom. Once inside, he flipped the light on, wincing at the brightness, and looked at himself in the mirror. A flush spred from his cheeks to below the neckline of his t-shirt and his pupils were large almost completely obscuring the green irises. Taking a few calming breaths he tried to take stock of what just happened.
What’s there to think about? You just had a sex dream about Sam. About kissing and touching him, making him beg and moan for you. Pant out your name. Enough! I can’t help what I dream about. You’re awake now. So? You’re still thinking about it.
Running his hand down, he felt the bulge hidden behind the fly of his jeans, he groaned at the contact.
Oh, fuck. You might as well take care of that. What?! If you’re going to hell you might as well enjoy the ride.
Blowing out a defeated huff (who knew that arguing with yourself could be more exhausting than arguing with your little brother), Dean undid his pants and took hold of his rigid cock. Closing his eyes, he let images of his dream play out behind his eyelids and Dean came hard after only a few strokes, biting his bottom lip to keep from calling out anything resembled a name. Flushing the toilet and the evidence of his activities, Dean splashed water on his face and straightened himself out. Stumbling out of the bathroom, still a little unsteady from the intensity of his orgasm, he saw Sam turn to look at him.
“You ‘kay, Dean.”
“I’m fine, Sam. Go back to sleep,” Dean made his way to the roll away bed.
“Lay with me again,” Sam sleepily slurred. Dean hesitated, scraping a hand over his face.
This is a really bad idea.
“Please, Dean. It makes me feel better. Safe.”
Crap.
Dean moved around the bed and scooted in behind Sam, careful to keep his hips back. Just in case. His nose nuzzled into Sam’s hair like it belonged there and the smell of baby shampoo triggered a sense memory in Dean that brought back scenes of mouths and hands and a breathy voice saying his name. Dean jerked his head back and buried his face into the pillow that still smelled more like industrial laundry detergent than Sam. He forced his breathing to slow and his tense muscles to relax. After what seemed an eternity, he drifted back off with a last fleeting thought about how Sam was going to have to use a different shampoo from now on.
Chapter 9
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wincest, underage
Word Count: 2,619
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Dad is away and Sam falls ill leaving Dean to deal with a sick brother. Dean finally gives in to what he wants.
Author Notes: Title from Faith Hill song. Also, as always completely unbeta-ed.
A/N 2: Check out the rating...I wrote porn! My first so please be kind.
Dean’s body was in motion before he was awake enough to know why; something penetrating through his dreams to cause his muscles to react. As feet touched linoleum and eyes pried open, he heard it again. A whimper, just an exhalation with the barest trace of sound really, accompanied by the rustling of sheets. Looking over, he saw Sam’s face scrunched up as his head thrashed back and forth on the crisp linen pillowcase. Dean stood and reached over, his hand going to his brother’s shoulder to rub a calming pattern over the joint.
“Shhhhh.”
Sam stilled, his next breath a calming sigh instead of the previously distressed whine. Dean sat back on his cot, his fingers slowly sliding off Sam’s arm. As the pad of his middle finger fell free, Sam began to shift and his brows came together again. Replacing his hand and watching Sam calm once more, Dean was struck violently by the memory of his brother as a baby in the back seat of the Impala. After the fire Sam cried a lot, a motherless baby in search of comfort, only consoled if he could feel Dean. Those first few weeks found Dean’s hand a permanent fixture on Sam. Baby Sam never demanded his older brother’s attention, even though it was always given freely, just his touch. Taught at the tender age of 6 months to be satisfied with the least that could be offered.
Funny how life comes full circle.
Glancing back at the roll away bed, he tried to judge the possibility of crawling back in and keeping a hand on his brother. Dean sighed and circled Sam’s bed, his hand trailing down one leg and up the other, fingers never lifting or lessening in pressure. He lowered the bedrail and climbed in behind him, arm, careful of the injured ribs, wrapping around the younger man’s waist.
Sam was shivering and Dean shifted closer, molding his body against Sam’s back, trying to siphon off some of his natural warmth into him. Dean settled his head on Sam’s pillow, vision filled with shaggy brown hair, and moved forward to bury his nose in the soft locks. Under the scent of the hospital, Dean could still smell Sam’s shampoo, the same baby formula he’d washed Sam’s hair with since he had hair, the same baby formula their mother had used on his own. He inhaled deeply, pulling the scent into his lungs. Dean’s lips parted and mouthed at the curling ends at the base of Sam’s neck before he moved a fraction of an inch closer to press wet lips to the skin beneath. Licking his lips, his eyes involuntarily closed as the taste of Sam’s skin burst across his tongue.
See how things progress? First kissing, now creepy brother licking. Get a grip, man. Bite me.
Dean pulled back, but kept his nose slotted in the brown tresses to continue to breath Sam scented air. He slid the hand over his brother’s waist up until his palm rested over Sam’s heart.
Dean jerked imperceptibly and cracked an eye, hunter instincts on alert, when he felt a presence in the room. His heart sped up when his slitted gaze fell on Casey moving beside the bed. So far she’d been compassionate and understanding of Dean’s need to be near Sam, but he wasn’t sure that would extend to finding him, well, for all intents and purposes, snuggled up behind him.
Casey’s face remained pleasantly passive as if the brothers’ position was of little concern as she lifted Dean’s arm off Sam’s and set it down across Sam’s waist well below the outer perimeter of bruising on his ribs. She tenderly maneuvered Sam’s arm to surround it with a blood pressure cuff and as the machine softly whirred, she placed the tip of a thermometer in his ear. Taking a small pad of paper from her front pocket, she wrote down the numbers obtained by the two machines before ejecting the plastic cover on the thermometer tip into the garbage can and as quietly as possible removed the cuff from Sam’s arm. At the sound of the Velcro separating, Sam stirred in his sleep, a soft whimper falling from his lips. Casey reached over and swept the tips of her finger across Sam’s forehead and the boy slipped back into a deep slumber. Her gaze slid over the now sleeping man to his less sleeping brother to see green eyes watching her movements. Smiling, she lightly took Dean’s hand and moved it back into position over Sam’s heart. Bending over, she pressed a tender kiss to Dean’s temple.
“Sleep, Dean. You’re both safe here.”
A sense of calm and peace stole over him and he burrowed into Sam’s back again. He heard her say something else, but sleep beckoned and Dean followed.
Dean was in that sleepy, warm place again, that lying in the sun space in time. He nestled into it further, allowing it to seep under his skin. Soft lips pressed against his and electricity zinged down the nerve pathways of his spine lighting his entire body up with a tingling desire. Dean’s mouth, well versed in the art of kissing, moved on its own, parting slightly and gently dancing with those on his.
Even with his vast repertoire, he had never experienced a kiss like this before. He’d shared hungry, devouring kisses; needy, reassuring kisses; and dirty, seductive kisses, but this was different. The lips that were bold enough to initiate the contact turned tentative and questioning like the owner wasn’t sure Dean wanted to be kissed and he found that hesitant touch to be blindingly hot. His head shifted on the pillow to get a better angle on the moist skin gliding against his, tongue slipping forward, communicating his want and permission through his actions. Sensing his intentions, a tongue met him half-way and as the tips touched, Dean’s body jolted into the warmth in front of him.
Spurred on by his desire, his hand reached up tangling in long hair and he thrust his tongue forward into the hot, wet cavern taking control. A vaguely familiar flavor exploded on his taste buds as he deepened the kiss. Dean’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath through his nose, reluctant to break the contact even for oxygen. Smells invaded his senses and mixed with the taste ramping up his lust further: faint traces of sweat, sun, iodine and baby shampoo.
Baby shampoo?
Dean‘s head jerked back breaking the kiss. His eyes snapped open for the first time since rousing and took in the form of his brother lying in front of him looking flushed and dazed. Somehow Sam had disentangled himself from the wires attached to the monitor and shed the oxygen mask. Dean knew he should protest and make his brother put them back on, but at this particular moment he really had more pressing concerns. Searching the hazel orbs he’d centered his life around for 17 years for how badly he’d fucked everything in his world up, all he found was love and invitation.
“Sammy?”
“Please…” Sam’s eyes slid closed as he whispered the word, breath ghosting over Dean’s lips. Sucking in a harsh breath, Dean pulled Sam’s exhalation into his lungs, into his soul.
Pushing forward, Dean closed his eyes too. He knew the sight of Sam almost as well as he knew himself and as much as he wanted to see him in this new light, he wanted to feel him first; let his other senses create the vision. His tongue returned home to Sam’s mouth and began to map every inch of the inside, savoring the taste there; fingers traced the contours of Sam’s stomach before skimming over his sides to run up and down the muscles of his back, ears soaked in the sounds of Sam’s labored breathing as he tried to draw in air without pulling away and everywhere Sam’s smell assaulted him. Lightly he dragged the fingertips of one hand up and the other hand down, grazing the exposed skin between the two sides of Sam’s hospital gown, until they met the ties at the neck and mid-back. Working the bows loose, Dean pulled the thin fabric forward and his mouth latched on Sam’s collarbone as he slid his brother’s arms free. He wasn’t sure what all Sam’s ‘please’ encompassed but decided to keep going until he was told to stop.
He dragged his hand up Sam’s arm followed by his mouth, tongue laving and teeth scraping over muscle and skin. At the round of the shoulder, his lips headed to Sam’s neck while his hand ran down Sam’s side feeling smooth skin interrupted by the odd scar here and there that Dean’s mind automatically supplied a date and place for before curling over his waist.
He felt Sam’s fingers creep under his t-shirt and his warm palms smooth over the muscles of Dean’s chest. Passing by his nipples, Sam flicked the buds causing Dean to groan and tighten his grip on his brother. Reaching Dean’s clavicles, Sam’s questing hands made a u-turn and began a lazy route down Dean’s ribs until they reached the waistband of his jeans. Nimble fingers delved under the fabric and drew forward until they came together at the button. Heat shot through Dean at the tugging sensation of Sam slipping the button from the hole and lowering the zipper and he moved his hands down to cup Sam’s ass, hips jolting up when he discovered that Sam hadn’t had underwear on beneath the gown.
He sighed when he felt his cock released from the confining pressure of his pants, quickly turning into a moan when Sam’s cool fingers ventured into his boxer-briefs and pulled him free of the cotton.
“Oh, God. Sammy,” he groaned, eyelids flying open desperate to see Sam’s hand wrapped around him.
Panting hard, Dean rested his forehead on Sam’s shoulder as his brother began to move his hand mind-blowingly over his hard length, down…up…twist…swipe…repeat. The hand not already preoccupied on Dean’s body cupped the back of his head.
“It’s alright, Dean. I want this. I want you.”
At those words, whispered in his ear, Dean’s body flew into motion. His head lifted again to claim Sam’s mouth as his hand traveled forward over the sharp jut of Sam’s hip bone and batted Sam’s hand away from him. As the hand still squeezing and massaging Sam’s ass glided up to rest on the small of his back and pull him forward, Dean wrapped his other hand around both their cocks. Simultaneous moans escaped their lips as the silky, precome streaked fleshes were pressed together. The moans turned to cries when Dean moved his hand up and down, their natural lubrication allowing them to slide easily in the circle of Dean’s fingers and against each other, bringing them the friction they both so desperately needed. Dean released Sam’s mouth to gulp huge lungfuls of air as fire tore through him and he felt Sam’s warm breath next to his ear gasping his name in between frantic inhales.
Dean’s balls tightened at the sound of his name in Sam’s throaty, sex blown voice and he bit his bottom lip to hold back when the need to cum slammed into him. Sam noticing the motion leaned forward and ran his tongue over the abused flesh then moved lower over his jaw and down to the portion of skin where shoulder meets neck. Licking once, Sam reared back slightly before biting hard, rolling the skin between his teeth then licking again to soothe the sting away. Dean whimpered and stretched his neck to the side, giving Sam more room to work.
Sam began to mouth and nibble his way over Dean’s shoulder and Dean was lost in the sensory overload of Sam all around him. He tightened the hand around them as he worked harder to bring them their release, desperate to see Sam come undone.
He heard a cough and lifted his head to see Sam continuing his teeth, lip, tongue exploration of his chest. Another cough followed then several more, each bone rattling and deep, but Sam’s mouth never left Dean’s body. A raspy ‘Dean’ in Sam’s voice that definitely did not come from the brother licking his nipple made him stop all movement.
“Dean!”
Waking was akin to having a band-aid ripped off, raw and painful. Sam was leaning over the bedrail in front of him clutching his side as more coughs wracked his thin frame. Finally, catching a breath that gave Dean enough time to move back slightly on the bed, Sam leaned back panting.
“Sorry, I woke you. It hurts,” Sam mumbled sleepily, his voice hoarse from the cough.
Reaching over to the table to get Sam’s cup of water, he held it to his brother’s lips allowing Sam to take several long swallows before setting it down. “Don’t worry about it, Sammy. Just try to go back to sleep.”
Dean rubbed a hand over Sam’s chest until the rise and fall evened out. Moving slowly, careful to not wake Sam, Dean slipped off the bed and headed into the bathroom. Once inside, he flipped the light on, wincing at the brightness, and looked at himself in the mirror. A flush spred from his cheeks to below the neckline of his t-shirt and his pupils were large almost completely obscuring the green irises. Taking a few calming breaths he tried to take stock of what just happened.
What’s there to think about? You just had a sex dream about Sam. About kissing and touching him, making him beg and moan for you. Pant out your name. Enough! I can’t help what I dream about. You’re awake now. So? You’re still thinking about it.
Running his hand down, he felt the bulge hidden behind the fly of his jeans, he groaned at the contact.
Oh, fuck. You might as well take care of that. What?! If you’re going to hell you might as well enjoy the ride.
Blowing out a defeated huff (who knew that arguing with yourself could be more exhausting than arguing with your little brother), Dean undid his pants and took hold of his rigid cock. Closing his eyes, he let images of his dream play out behind his eyelids and Dean came hard after only a few strokes, biting his bottom lip to keep from calling out anything resembled a name. Flushing the toilet and the evidence of his activities, Dean splashed water on his face and straightened himself out. Stumbling out of the bathroom, still a little unsteady from the intensity of his orgasm, he saw Sam turn to look at him.
“You ‘kay, Dean.”
“I’m fine, Sam. Go back to sleep,” Dean made his way to the roll away bed.
“Lay with me again,” Sam sleepily slurred. Dean hesitated, scraping a hand over his face.
This is a really bad idea.
“Please, Dean. It makes me feel better. Safe.”
Crap.
Dean moved around the bed and scooted in behind Sam, careful to keep his hips back. Just in case. His nose nuzzled into Sam’s hair like it belonged there and the smell of baby shampoo triggered a sense memory in Dean that brought back scenes of mouths and hands and a breathy voice saying his name. Dean jerked his head back and buried his face into the pillow that still smelled more like industrial laundry detergent than Sam. He forced his breathing to slow and his tense muscles to relax. After what seemed an eternity, he drifted back off with a last fleeting thought about how Sam was going to have to use a different shampoo from now on.
Chapter 9