SPN: Sam/Dean, Dean/OFC, NC-17
Title: The Hell With Normal
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Dean/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,204
Summary: A timeline of Sam and Dean's firsts.
Notes: Beta'd by neroli66 who is, as always, awesome. This is set in my Everything 'Verse. It would help to read those, but this should stand on its own.
The first time Sam thought about Dean that way he was thirteen and already knew it was wrong. It came as a complete surprise, though it really shouldn’t have. He’d always had this thing for Dean; this kind of hero worship that verged on a harmless crush. Only, it wasn’t really all that harmless once Sam sat down and started thinking about it. Sure, his family was a bit unconventional, but lusting after his brother was a bit too much. It would kill his father, and Sam hadn’t quite reached the point where he didn’t care about that.
Sam thumbed through the beat up Playboy that he had found tucked in his father’s duffle bag - right beneath the lighter fluid and extra ammo - and tried to get into it. They’d actually managed to stay at his most recent school for a few months, and all of the guys in his grade spent half their time fumbling around awkwardly and the other half talking about boobs and panties. So when Sam spotted the magazine, he figured it would be his ticket to a few more friends and a few less tormentors.
Instead, it proved exactly how fucked up he actually was.
Sam went into the bathroom as soon as Dean and his dad had left the room, locked the door for good measure, and sat down on the tiled floor. The big breasted blonde of the month, Melanie, taunted him with her parted lips and spread thighs. All Sam could think was what’s the big deal? Desperate, he leafed through the Playboy, trying to find something that got to him.
Then he thought maybe he should ask Dean what he liked in woman and his mind immediately presented him an image of his brother lying naked on his bed, lips pouted and arms casually tucked behind his head. Sam hardened in an instant and tossed the magazine away like it burned.
He cried for an hour before he could pull himself together. Sam wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth on the bathroom floor until his eyes stung. By the time Dean and his dad got home, covered in blood and sweat, Sam had resigned himself to his fate. It didn’t stop him from watching in the dark while Dean peeled off his tattered shirt, wincing as it caught on every wound.
When Sam jerked off in the shower the next morning to the image of moonlight flickering over Dean’s shoulder blades, he realized that he had never felt dirtier in his entire life. And if one or two tears mixed in with the warm spray of the showerhead, they were gone by the time he left the bathroom.
---
The first time Dean looked at Sam and thought sexy rather than brother, he was sixteen and it was Easter Sunday. He remembers because even though his dad had already left the motel room that morning (something about a house search), he’d left two Cadbury Cream Eggs on the nightstand between the boys beds. Dean woke up first, took one look at the shiny wrappers and decided to give his up. Because really, Sam didn’t get nearly as much chocolate as he’d like, and Dean found more pleasure in one of Sam’s smiles than a piece of candy.
He picked up the eggs and tossed them at Sam, who jumped awake with a hiss. Dean fell back on his bed, body shaking in a fit of laughter while Sam choked and mumbled on his own bed. When Dean managed to pull himself together, he dared a glance at Sam; Sam who was occupied licked the cream out of the middle of an egg.
Dean’s next breath got caught somewhere in the back of his throat as he watched Sam’s pink tongue sneak out to lap at the cream. Yeah, his brother was awkward and just about the biggest nerd Dean had ever met, but that hadn’t stopped him from getting hard. He dug his fingernails into his palms, willing the pain to come and calm him down. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from Sam’s tongue and chocolate coated lips.
Instead, he jumped out of bed, pulling his t-shirt over his erection and shouted something about happy Easter and a shower. The first thing he did when he got in the bathroom was bang his head against the door. Repeatedly. Seriously, how fucked up could he get? Wasn’t it enough to have some protective guilt complex when it came to Sam? Did he really have to add, Dean swallowed hard and clenched his hands into fists, incest to the mix?
He stripped mechanically, doing his best to ignore how painfully hard his cock was. Turning the shower as cold as he could stand it, he jumped in, goose bumps immediately springing up across his skin. He ground his teeth together and soaped up his body, making sure to skip the betraying section. He almost made it through the entire shower, but then Sam had pounded on the door with those freakishly large hands of his and shouted, “Dean! Save some water, man!”
Dean didn’t have the heart to explain to his little - god so young - brother that he was taking an ice cold shower in an effort not to jerk off while picturing familiar hands and lips tracing their way over his body. Dean slammed one fist into the tiles and wrapped the other one around his aching erection. He was sixteen and so damn close already, so it only took a couple harsh strokes before he was biting into his lower lip and coming all over his hand and thighs.
The water washed away Dean’s come, but did nothing to stop the sharp pain he felt in his chest. He stood in front of the mirror, trying to see if his freakishness showed on the outside. That was the first day he slipped on his cocky smirk along with his blue jeans. He promised that he’d never bring this, whatever the hell it was, on Sam, and threw himself full force into hunting.
And if Dean’s gaze ever lingered too long on his little brother, or if he ever saw a flash of unruly brown hair or puppy dog eyes right before he came, he kept it to himself.
---
Dean realized that he lusted after his little brother in April, and by July he’d managed to lose his virginity, if not his guilt. His dad had decided to settle down for a couple of months, give the boys another shot at a home, even though it never lasted long. They stayed in a duplex next to a young divorcee. She had a pool, and Dean mowed her lawn for her. She never would have guessed that he spent his hard earned money on candy bars for Sam and ammo for his dad. Everything was so damn normal that Dean should have realized it couldn’t possibly stay that way.
It was one of those lazy Sunday afternoons where the sun stayed bright and even the air didn’t feel like moving much. Mrs. Marshall - Dean knew her first name was Cathy but still couldn’t bring himself to call her that - had invited him and Sam over for the afternoon, claiming that a pool wasn’t worth a damn unless people swam in it. Then Sam had complained of a headache and headed back to their duplex. Their dad was god knows where and probably up to his elbows in blood and gore, so Dean closed his eyes and let the sun warm his skin.
When he opened them, Mrs. Marshall’s shadow was falling across his thighs and her lips were curved in a smile that he didn’t recognize. Dean’s first instinct was to panic, but she settled herself across his thighs and damned if his body didn’t like that. His hands wavered, not quite sure where to rest, so she took hold of them and placed them on her hips.
“This ok, Dean?” she asked, bending over and moving her lips against his neck. He nodded and tried not to come when she ground her hips against his. Cathy laughed, a sultry chuckle that made her breasts vibrate against Dean’s rib cage. Dean ran his hands over the small of her back and looked up in awe.
Gone was the cocky, carefree persona that he had just gotten used to. Dean fumbled with the ties to her bikini top and tried not to shoot his load in his swimming trunks.
That didn’t help much, because he went off like a bottle rocket the second her hand slipped past the wet material and her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around his cock. He whimpered, cheeks burning with shame as she continued to pump him, milking out his orgasm. It just felt so damn good to have someone else’s hands on him, someone who might not care but was at least willing to pretend.
“It’s ok,” Cathy said, pressing a finger to Dean’s lips when he tried to apologize. “You’re young.” Her hand already had Dean half hard again, and she reached over and grabbed a condom out of her pool bag. Dean’s eye widened, and he knew he looked like an idiot, but really, he hadn’t been expecting any of this. He just hoped Sam didn’t show up with a bottle of aspirin and a confused expression.
Dean ignored the fact that the very thought of Sam made his dick twitch and tried to concentrate on Mrs. Marshall…Cathy. She stopped stroking him and took his hand in hers, bringing it down to the hem of her bikini bottoms. Dean watched and wet his suddenly dry lips when she guided his hand into her bathing suit and showed him how to work his fingers in just the right way to have her arching her back and moaning.
She didn’t even take the bottoms off, just pushed them to the side while she rolled the condom down Dean’s length. Then she had her hands on the back of the lounge chair and was slowly lowering herself onto him. Dean cried out and grasped at her hips as his world narrowed down to tight and ohfuckyes. She rode him, not caring about his lack of finesse or the fact that they were outside and anyone in the damn neighborhood could spot them.
Then she started rubbing her clit through the thin material of her bikini and it was all Dean could do to keep himself in check. When she came, body clamping down on Dean’s cock, he tried to keep the image of Sam’s dark eyes and long limbs out of his head but just couldn’t. He brought a fist up to his mouth and bit down, managing to hold in the “Sam!” that wanted to burst out of his lungs.
Cathy nibbled on his ear and slid off of him. She took the condom, tied it off, and tossed it on the pool deck. “Thanks, Dean,” she said with a smile, and Dean was pretty sure that was supposed to go the other way around. “Don’t worry.”
“What?” he asked, squinting up at her as she put her top back on. He tucked himself back in his shorts and stood up. Cathy kissed him quickly, just a brush of lips, before she pulled back and fucking patted him on the head. He wondered why she didn’t throw in a good hair ruffling and complete the surreal picture.
“I know damn well you weren’t with me for a minute there, but don’t you worry. Whoever your mind wandered to will come around someday. You’re a cute kid, Dean,” Cathy grinned and sat down on the lounge chair, picking up her latest romance novel and diving into it as if nothing had happened.
“Thanks,” Dean mumbled. He grabbed his towel and all but fled her yard. Sure, Sam was going to come around, going to confess his own feelings of guilt and lust. Dean laughed at himself and stomped into his house. His world just kept getting more and more fucked up.
Three weeks later, when his dad packed up the car and they hit the road, Dean had learned how to smile without it reaching his eyes, and Cathy had taught him how to roll his hips and how to eat pussy. He had also learned that sometimes Sam jerked off in bed at night, and if he stood outside the door, Dean could just barely make out the gaspy moans and slick sound of Sam’s cock sliding through his fist. If Dean was going to hell anyway, he was going to do his damn best to make sure he deserved it.
The hell with normal.
---
Sam lost his virginity to Dean.
Well, if hand jobs are considered losing one’s virginity. Since they were Dean’s hands and Sam hadn’t ever felt any but his own, he figured it counted. Sure, Sam had spent three years stroking himself to images of Dean, but that didn’t come close to the sweet burn of Dean’s touch.
It was completely accidental, but couldn’t have played out any differently. Sam literally walked in on Dean jerking off. Their dad was out of town for the night, so they had the motel room to themselves. They hadn’t given the whole living in one place for an extended period of time thing another chance after they moved out of the duplex. Sam had been watching TV until all the programs faded into infomercials and his eyelids were weighed down with exhaustion.
He clicked off the TV and stumbled into the shared bedroom he and Dean had been staying it. He made it two steps into the room before the panic set in. Dean was sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard with his hand fisted around his dick. Sam watched him give two rough pulls before Dean realized he was there.
Sam stepped into the room, drawing himself up to his full height, and tried to look like a man instead of an awkward bundle of limbs and nervousness. Dean scrambled under the covers, throwing a pillow over his lap for good measure.
Dean chewed his lower lip and watched with worried eyes as Sam walked from the doorway to the bed. He was trying to decide whether he ought to laugh it off or start throwing punches when Sam broke the silence.
“I could help,” he said, voice wavering on the last word. Sam held out a hand, slowly bringing it to Dean’s face and rested his palm on Dean’s cheek.
“You shouldn’t,” Dean said, tongue sneaking out to wet suddenly dry lips. He tilted his head and nuzzled Sam’s warm hand.
“But I can…want to,” Sam admitted as he sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Dean’s. It was sloppy, a bit off center, and the most perfect thing Dean had ever felt in his entire life.
Dean moaned into Sam’s mouth and brought his hands to his waist. He pushed the oversized t-shirt up Sam’s back, stroking his fingers over bare skin. Breaking the kiss, Dean pulled Sam’s shirt over his head, laughing deep in his throat when it got stuck around Sam’s elbows.
Sam slapped at Dean’s hands and then tugged the shirt off, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder. Then he pushed the covers down towards the end of the bed and settled on top of Dean’s thighs. He could feel the heat and hardness of Dean’s dick, rubbing against his through his boxer shorts.
Dean caught Sam’s mouth in a harsh kiss, teeth clacking and tongue swiping at Sam’s. He grunted and let his hands slide up and down Sam’s back, resting on his hips. It was obvious that Sam hadn’t done much of anything, even kissed before, but he was the sexiest damn thing Dean had ever had the chance to touch.
Sam rocked his hips against Dean’s, breaking the kiss to cry out when it all became too much. There was no way he was going to last very long. It was all too new, too thrilling. He gasped into Dean’s shoulder and darted his tongue out to lap at the sweat along Dean’s collarbone.
A loud groan echoed in the dark room, and Dean was shocked to realize it was his. He grinned against Sam’s neck and nipped at the long expanse of flesh. He trailed one of his hands over Sam’s hip and into his boxers, smirking when Sam bucked his hips and squeaked in his ear. He palmed his brother’s cock, loving the weight and feel of it in his hand.
Sam dug his fingers into Dean’s arms when Dean started to stroke him. His thumb rubbed the head of Sam’s cock, and he nearly lost it right there. He bit down on Dean’s shoulder, not worrying about what kind of mark he would leave. Let Dean be marked.
Dean licked a swipe up Sam’s neck and pumped his hand faster. His shoulder stung from Sam’s blunt nails, but it only added to the experience. He wanted reminders of this sweet torture; wanted to be able to think back and know how Sam felt in his arms long after Sam decided to put a stop to this. He licked around the shell of Sam’s ear and whispered, “Do it, Sammy…wanna feel you come…so god damn gorgeous.”
Sam pulled back, resting his hands on Dean’s chest so he could lock eyes with him. He nodded and then his eyes snapped shut and he was coming harder than he thought was possible. He spilled his seed over Dean’s hands and arched his back, shouting a harsh, “Dean!” into the darkness.
Dean’s eyes flicked from Sam’s face to his lips to the front of his boxers, trying to memorize everything about the way Sam was falling apart in his lap. Then Sam bucked his hips, his thigh brushing Dean’s aching cock and that was all he could stand. Dean let out a gaspy breath as his body shook and he emptied himself between their bodies. Sam continued to rock against him, panting in his ear as they rode out their orgasms.
When he could move again, Dean stroked his hands up and down Sam’s back, wanted to touch as much skin as he could, because he was allowed to now. Sam whimpered against his neck and gave one final shudder before going still.
“God, Dean,” Sam said in a breathy voice. He laughed, the sound making his chest vibrate against Dean’s.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed. He pressed his lips against Sam’s cheek and pushed him down so they could spread out on the bed. He never mentioned Sam going back to his bed, and Sam never asked if he should.
Dean spent the next hour with an armful of Sam, those long limbs wrapped around his body, and wondered how long it would be before he fucked this up, too. But when Sam mumbled in his sleep and squeezed him tighter, Dean figured he’d have to take what he could get. And for that night at least, he had Sam, so things were looking pretty damn good.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Dean/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,204
Summary: A timeline of Sam and Dean's firsts.
Notes: Beta'd by neroli66 who is, as always, awesome. This is set in my Everything 'Verse. It would help to read those, but this should stand on its own.
The first time Sam thought about Dean that way he was thirteen and already knew it was wrong. It came as a complete surprise, though it really shouldn’t have. He’d always had this thing for Dean; this kind of hero worship that verged on a harmless crush. Only, it wasn’t really all that harmless once Sam sat down and started thinking about it. Sure, his family was a bit unconventional, but lusting after his brother was a bit too much. It would kill his father, and Sam hadn’t quite reached the point where he didn’t care about that.
Sam thumbed through the beat up Playboy that he had found tucked in his father’s duffle bag - right beneath the lighter fluid and extra ammo - and tried to get into it. They’d actually managed to stay at his most recent school for a few months, and all of the guys in his grade spent half their time fumbling around awkwardly and the other half talking about boobs and panties. So when Sam spotted the magazine, he figured it would be his ticket to a few more friends and a few less tormentors.
Instead, it proved exactly how fucked up he actually was.
Sam went into the bathroom as soon as Dean and his dad had left the room, locked the door for good measure, and sat down on the tiled floor. The big breasted blonde of the month, Melanie, taunted him with her parted lips and spread thighs. All Sam could think was what’s the big deal? Desperate, he leafed through the Playboy, trying to find something that got to him.
Then he thought maybe he should ask Dean what he liked in woman and his mind immediately presented him an image of his brother lying naked on his bed, lips pouted and arms casually tucked behind his head. Sam hardened in an instant and tossed the magazine away like it burned.
He cried for an hour before he could pull himself together. Sam wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth on the bathroom floor until his eyes stung. By the time Dean and his dad got home, covered in blood and sweat, Sam had resigned himself to his fate. It didn’t stop him from watching in the dark while Dean peeled off his tattered shirt, wincing as it caught on every wound.
When Sam jerked off in the shower the next morning to the image of moonlight flickering over Dean’s shoulder blades, he realized that he had never felt dirtier in his entire life. And if one or two tears mixed in with the warm spray of the showerhead, they were gone by the time he left the bathroom.
---
The first time Dean looked at Sam and thought sexy rather than brother, he was sixteen and it was Easter Sunday. He remembers because even though his dad had already left the motel room that morning (something about a house search), he’d left two Cadbury Cream Eggs on the nightstand between the boys beds. Dean woke up first, took one look at the shiny wrappers and decided to give his up. Because really, Sam didn’t get nearly as much chocolate as he’d like, and Dean found more pleasure in one of Sam’s smiles than a piece of candy.
He picked up the eggs and tossed them at Sam, who jumped awake with a hiss. Dean fell back on his bed, body shaking in a fit of laughter while Sam choked and mumbled on his own bed. When Dean managed to pull himself together, he dared a glance at Sam; Sam who was occupied licked the cream out of the middle of an egg.
Dean’s next breath got caught somewhere in the back of his throat as he watched Sam’s pink tongue sneak out to lap at the cream. Yeah, his brother was awkward and just about the biggest nerd Dean had ever met, but that hadn’t stopped him from getting hard. He dug his fingernails into his palms, willing the pain to come and calm him down. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from Sam’s tongue and chocolate coated lips.
Instead, he jumped out of bed, pulling his t-shirt over his erection and shouted something about happy Easter and a shower. The first thing he did when he got in the bathroom was bang his head against the door. Repeatedly. Seriously, how fucked up could he get? Wasn’t it enough to have some protective guilt complex when it came to Sam? Did he really have to add, Dean swallowed hard and clenched his hands into fists, incest to the mix?
He stripped mechanically, doing his best to ignore how painfully hard his cock was. Turning the shower as cold as he could stand it, he jumped in, goose bumps immediately springing up across his skin. He ground his teeth together and soaped up his body, making sure to skip the betraying section. He almost made it through the entire shower, but then Sam had pounded on the door with those freakishly large hands of his and shouted, “Dean! Save some water, man!”
Dean didn’t have the heart to explain to his little - god so young - brother that he was taking an ice cold shower in an effort not to jerk off while picturing familiar hands and lips tracing their way over his body. Dean slammed one fist into the tiles and wrapped the other one around his aching erection. He was sixteen and so damn close already, so it only took a couple harsh strokes before he was biting into his lower lip and coming all over his hand and thighs.
The water washed away Dean’s come, but did nothing to stop the sharp pain he felt in his chest. He stood in front of the mirror, trying to see if his freakishness showed on the outside. That was the first day he slipped on his cocky smirk along with his blue jeans. He promised that he’d never bring this, whatever the hell it was, on Sam, and threw himself full force into hunting.
And if Dean’s gaze ever lingered too long on his little brother, or if he ever saw a flash of unruly brown hair or puppy dog eyes right before he came, he kept it to himself.
---
Dean realized that he lusted after his little brother in April, and by July he’d managed to lose his virginity, if not his guilt. His dad had decided to settle down for a couple of months, give the boys another shot at a home, even though it never lasted long. They stayed in a duplex next to a young divorcee. She had a pool, and Dean mowed her lawn for her. She never would have guessed that he spent his hard earned money on candy bars for Sam and ammo for his dad. Everything was so damn normal that Dean should have realized it couldn’t possibly stay that way.
It was one of those lazy Sunday afternoons where the sun stayed bright and even the air didn’t feel like moving much. Mrs. Marshall - Dean knew her first name was Cathy but still couldn’t bring himself to call her that - had invited him and Sam over for the afternoon, claiming that a pool wasn’t worth a damn unless people swam in it. Then Sam had complained of a headache and headed back to their duplex. Their dad was god knows where and probably up to his elbows in blood and gore, so Dean closed his eyes and let the sun warm his skin.
When he opened them, Mrs. Marshall’s shadow was falling across his thighs and her lips were curved in a smile that he didn’t recognize. Dean’s first instinct was to panic, but she settled herself across his thighs and damned if his body didn’t like that. His hands wavered, not quite sure where to rest, so she took hold of them and placed them on her hips.
“This ok, Dean?” she asked, bending over and moving her lips against his neck. He nodded and tried not to come when she ground her hips against his. Cathy laughed, a sultry chuckle that made her breasts vibrate against Dean’s rib cage. Dean ran his hands over the small of her back and looked up in awe.
Gone was the cocky, carefree persona that he had just gotten used to. Dean fumbled with the ties to her bikini top and tried not to shoot his load in his swimming trunks.
That didn’t help much, because he went off like a bottle rocket the second her hand slipped past the wet material and her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around his cock. He whimpered, cheeks burning with shame as she continued to pump him, milking out his orgasm. It just felt so damn good to have someone else’s hands on him, someone who might not care but was at least willing to pretend.
“It’s ok,” Cathy said, pressing a finger to Dean’s lips when he tried to apologize. “You’re young.” Her hand already had Dean half hard again, and she reached over and grabbed a condom out of her pool bag. Dean’s eye widened, and he knew he looked like an idiot, but really, he hadn’t been expecting any of this. He just hoped Sam didn’t show up with a bottle of aspirin and a confused expression.
Dean ignored the fact that the very thought of Sam made his dick twitch and tried to concentrate on Mrs. Marshall…Cathy. She stopped stroking him and took his hand in hers, bringing it down to the hem of her bikini bottoms. Dean watched and wet his suddenly dry lips when she guided his hand into her bathing suit and showed him how to work his fingers in just the right way to have her arching her back and moaning.
She didn’t even take the bottoms off, just pushed them to the side while she rolled the condom down Dean’s length. Then she had her hands on the back of the lounge chair and was slowly lowering herself onto him. Dean cried out and grasped at her hips as his world narrowed down to tight and ohfuckyes. She rode him, not caring about his lack of finesse or the fact that they were outside and anyone in the damn neighborhood could spot them.
Then she started rubbing her clit through the thin material of her bikini and it was all Dean could do to keep himself in check. When she came, body clamping down on Dean’s cock, he tried to keep the image of Sam’s dark eyes and long limbs out of his head but just couldn’t. He brought a fist up to his mouth and bit down, managing to hold in the “Sam!” that wanted to burst out of his lungs.
Cathy nibbled on his ear and slid off of him. She took the condom, tied it off, and tossed it on the pool deck. “Thanks, Dean,” she said with a smile, and Dean was pretty sure that was supposed to go the other way around. “Don’t worry.”
“What?” he asked, squinting up at her as she put her top back on. He tucked himself back in his shorts and stood up. Cathy kissed him quickly, just a brush of lips, before she pulled back and fucking patted him on the head. He wondered why she didn’t throw in a good hair ruffling and complete the surreal picture.
“I know damn well you weren’t with me for a minute there, but don’t you worry. Whoever your mind wandered to will come around someday. You’re a cute kid, Dean,” Cathy grinned and sat down on the lounge chair, picking up her latest romance novel and diving into it as if nothing had happened.
“Thanks,” Dean mumbled. He grabbed his towel and all but fled her yard. Sure, Sam was going to come around, going to confess his own feelings of guilt and lust. Dean laughed at himself and stomped into his house. His world just kept getting more and more fucked up.
Three weeks later, when his dad packed up the car and they hit the road, Dean had learned how to smile without it reaching his eyes, and Cathy had taught him how to roll his hips and how to eat pussy. He had also learned that sometimes Sam jerked off in bed at night, and if he stood outside the door, Dean could just barely make out the gaspy moans and slick sound of Sam’s cock sliding through his fist. If Dean was going to hell anyway, he was going to do his damn best to make sure he deserved it.
The hell with normal.
---
Sam lost his virginity to Dean.
Well, if hand jobs are considered losing one’s virginity. Since they were Dean’s hands and Sam hadn’t ever felt any but his own, he figured it counted. Sure, Sam had spent three years stroking himself to images of Dean, but that didn’t come close to the sweet burn of Dean’s touch.
It was completely accidental, but couldn’t have played out any differently. Sam literally walked in on Dean jerking off. Their dad was out of town for the night, so they had the motel room to themselves. They hadn’t given the whole living in one place for an extended period of time thing another chance after they moved out of the duplex. Sam had been watching TV until all the programs faded into infomercials and his eyelids were weighed down with exhaustion.
He clicked off the TV and stumbled into the shared bedroom he and Dean had been staying it. He made it two steps into the room before the panic set in. Dean was sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard with his hand fisted around his dick. Sam watched him give two rough pulls before Dean realized he was there.
Sam stepped into the room, drawing himself up to his full height, and tried to look like a man instead of an awkward bundle of limbs and nervousness. Dean scrambled under the covers, throwing a pillow over his lap for good measure.
Dean chewed his lower lip and watched with worried eyes as Sam walked from the doorway to the bed. He was trying to decide whether he ought to laugh it off or start throwing punches when Sam broke the silence.
“I could help,” he said, voice wavering on the last word. Sam held out a hand, slowly bringing it to Dean’s face and rested his palm on Dean’s cheek.
“You shouldn’t,” Dean said, tongue sneaking out to wet suddenly dry lips. He tilted his head and nuzzled Sam’s warm hand.
“But I can…want to,” Sam admitted as he sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Dean’s. It was sloppy, a bit off center, and the most perfect thing Dean had ever felt in his entire life.
Dean moaned into Sam’s mouth and brought his hands to his waist. He pushed the oversized t-shirt up Sam’s back, stroking his fingers over bare skin. Breaking the kiss, Dean pulled Sam’s shirt over his head, laughing deep in his throat when it got stuck around Sam’s elbows.
Sam slapped at Dean’s hands and then tugged the shirt off, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder. Then he pushed the covers down towards the end of the bed and settled on top of Dean’s thighs. He could feel the heat and hardness of Dean’s dick, rubbing against his through his boxer shorts.
Dean caught Sam’s mouth in a harsh kiss, teeth clacking and tongue swiping at Sam’s. He grunted and let his hands slide up and down Sam’s back, resting on his hips. It was obvious that Sam hadn’t done much of anything, even kissed before, but he was the sexiest damn thing Dean had ever had the chance to touch.
Sam rocked his hips against Dean’s, breaking the kiss to cry out when it all became too much. There was no way he was going to last very long. It was all too new, too thrilling. He gasped into Dean’s shoulder and darted his tongue out to lap at the sweat along Dean’s collarbone.
A loud groan echoed in the dark room, and Dean was shocked to realize it was his. He grinned against Sam’s neck and nipped at the long expanse of flesh. He trailed one of his hands over Sam’s hip and into his boxers, smirking when Sam bucked his hips and squeaked in his ear. He palmed his brother’s cock, loving the weight and feel of it in his hand.
Sam dug his fingers into Dean’s arms when Dean started to stroke him. His thumb rubbed the head of Sam’s cock, and he nearly lost it right there. He bit down on Dean’s shoulder, not worrying about what kind of mark he would leave. Let Dean be marked.
Dean licked a swipe up Sam’s neck and pumped his hand faster. His shoulder stung from Sam’s blunt nails, but it only added to the experience. He wanted reminders of this sweet torture; wanted to be able to think back and know how Sam felt in his arms long after Sam decided to put a stop to this. He licked around the shell of Sam’s ear and whispered, “Do it, Sammy…wanna feel you come…so god damn gorgeous.”
Sam pulled back, resting his hands on Dean’s chest so he could lock eyes with him. He nodded and then his eyes snapped shut and he was coming harder than he thought was possible. He spilled his seed over Dean’s hands and arched his back, shouting a harsh, “Dean!” into the darkness.
Dean’s eyes flicked from Sam’s face to his lips to the front of his boxers, trying to memorize everything about the way Sam was falling apart in his lap. Then Sam bucked his hips, his thigh brushing Dean’s aching cock and that was all he could stand. Dean let out a gaspy breath as his body shook and he emptied himself between their bodies. Sam continued to rock against him, panting in his ear as they rode out their orgasms.
When he could move again, Dean stroked his hands up and down Sam’s back, wanted to touch as much skin as he could, because he was allowed to now. Sam whimpered against his neck and gave one final shudder before going still.
“God, Dean,” Sam said in a breathy voice. He laughed, the sound making his chest vibrate against Dean’s.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed. He pressed his lips against Sam’s cheek and pushed him down so they could spread out on the bed. He never mentioned Sam going back to his bed, and Sam never asked if he should.
Dean spent the next hour with an armful of Sam, those long limbs wrapped around his body, and wondered how long it would be before he fucked this up, too. But when Sam mumbled in his sleep and squeezed him tighter, Dean figured he’d have to take what he could get. And for that night at least, he had Sam, so things were looking pretty damn good.