Forgotten Pleasures, Supernatural Fic
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Forgotten Pleasures
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: Very NC-17
Words: 3455
Warnings: Wincest. (yes, special hell)
Spoilers: None that I'm aware of.
Summary: Dean gets drunk and decides he's done waiting for Sam to remember how nights used to be, before Sam left for school...Yeah, mostly its about the sex and the angst about the sex.
Sam rolled away from the oncoming fist, landing in an ungraceful roll across the dirty bar room floor. Dean laughed and slammed his fist into the face of the drunk bar patron who’d swung at him. Sam shook his head and climbed to his feet, still not sure how the fight had started. “Come on Dean, let’s just get out of here.”
Dean laughed again, downing his drink before stumbling. Sam caught him and spun him around for the door. “Yeah, just a few drinks.”
“Sammy…my Sammy.” Dean stumbled as they cleared the door. Sam slung an arm under his brother’s arm and guided him away from the bar toward the little motel.
“Yes, Dean. Let’s just put you to bed,” he grumbled, attempting to keep from falling down beneath the dead weight his brother was leaning on him. The whole evening had been a fiasco, starting with Dean waking up in a foul mood after a series of what sounded to Sam like dreams that ranged from raging wet dreams to nightmares and back again.
The last two weeks had been hard on both of them, from the fight with a witch controlling a nasty demon, to two nights spent in uncomfortable proximity after getting caught by a doctor with a bad habit of harvesting organs from live patients and replacing them with demon parts. That cage had been barely large enough to hold one person and they’d been shoved in there together after being dosed up with pretty heavy drugs.
Sam’s own dreams had been pretty disturbing. He could only imagine what Dean’s were like…especially because Dean’s mood had only turned fouler when he’d asked. Dean turned, his eyes narrowing as he studied Sam, his lips pouting and his cheeks red. His hands came up to Sam’s face, holding it and turning it. “Wha’s wrong, Sammy?”
“You’re drunk, Dean.”
Dean laughed at that, turning around in the dim pool of light from the street lamp above them. “Maybe I am.”
“Dean, quiet down.”
Dean turned again and tripped over his own feet, landing in a puddle on the ground. Sam shook his head and moved to help him, bending over and having to smile at the expression on Dean’s face. He put out his hand to help Dean up, but his brother only used it to pull him closer. “I think you might be right,” he whispered conspiratorially, then laughed. Sam shook his head, repositioning himself to leverage Dean to his feet.
“Come on Dean, help me a little.”
Dean put his feet under him and with only a little pulling, popped to his feet, landing only inches from Sam. For a long minute they stood there, breathing and not moving. Then, almost in slow motion, Dean leaned forward, his lips brushing his brother’s. A heartbeat’s hesitation and he pressed in closer, his kiss pressing harder to Sam’s mouth.
They froze then. Both of them swallowed hard. “My beautiful Sammy.” Dean whispered and Sam stepped back.
He was breathless, his mind stuck. He shook his head. “You’re drunk,” he said again. He turned Dean toward the door of their room, staying behind him and prodding him forward until they reached it, then sliding the key card in to let them into the room.
Dean seemed to slip further into his drunken state, stumbling until Sam grabbed him and threw the door shut behind them. “I don’t believe this.” Sam muttered as he manhandled his brother toward the nearest bed.
Legs tangled around legs as Dean clung to Sam and Sam tried in vain to drop Dean to the bed. Eventually gravity won out and they both fell to the mattress, the bed creaking underneath them in protest.
Sam set about disentangling himself from Dean, a job made all the harder by Dean’s insistence in holding on to him. “Sammy…I need to tell you something.”
“Tell me in the morning Dean.” Sam pulled his leg free and rolled away, but Dean’s hand on his arm pulled him back.
Sam found himself face to face with his brother, Dean’s hands on either side of his face. “I love you Sammy.”
Sam smiled. “I love you too Dean.” It wasn’t something they said often anymore, not like when they’d been little.
“No. I mean it. I mean…” Dean let go of his face and turned away now. “I dreamed…”
Sam took advantage of his freedom and got off the bed, moving to pull Dean’s boots off. “You need to sleep, Dean.” With the boots tossed over toward the door, Sam rolled Dean onto his back. “Help me get these jeans off.”
Dean seemed to be well on his way to comatose, so Sam reached up to unbutton the jeans himself, pulling them down his legs and tossing them on the nearby chair. “You should take some aspirin.” Sam kicked off his own shoes and reached for his backpack. The aspirin bottle was nearly empty. He sighed and put it on the table before pulling off his t-shirt. He unbuttoned his jeans then turned toward Dean. He grabbed the aspirin and opened it, putting two in his hand and ducking into the bathroom for a glass of water.
Dean was nearly asleep, or probably more accurately, lapsed into a drunken stupor. Sam squatted near his head and prodded him. “Come on Dean. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
Dean’s eyes opened and Sam dropped the aspirin into his open mouth, handing him the glass. Dean propped himself on his elbow and took two swallows of the water, grimacing as he swallowed the pills. “Good boy.” Sam said with a smile, taking the glass and setting it on the bedside table.
“Sam.” Dean’s hand caressed Sam’s face, his eyes dark. Sam nearly stopped breathing. Something in Dean’s face was so…needy. He’d never seen him like that. Dean’s hand slipped down to Sam’s bare chest. Sam closed his eyes and tried to move away. This was…what? What was this?
Sam opened his eyes and stood. Dean sat up, his finger hooked in the belt loop of Sam’s jeans. His hands moved over Sam’s hips, circling around to cup his ass as Dean’s lips made contact with the bare skin just above his jeans.
Sam groaned as Dean’s chin brushed over his groin, where he was suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Dean.” His voice was low, dangerous, nearly a growl. Dean’s eyes glittered with lust as he looked up.
Their eyes met. Dean’s hands tugged and Sam’s jeans and boxers fell to his knees. Sam moved…tried to move…but Dean’s hands held him, his mouth moved over his skin…and Sam was mesmerized. “Dean…Dean…” He wasn’t even sure what it was he was trying to say, especially not when Dean’s mouth was suddenly closed over his cock, coaxing it to full erection…his tongue sliding over the skin…”Dean…I…damn…”
Sam’s body twitched. His hips moved to the rhythm Dean was establishing, his mouth sliding down his cock, then up again, while his hands pulled him closer. Sam’s eyes closed as he threw his head back, surrendering…his hands found their way to Dean’s head, encouraging, guiding. “Oh…god…Dean…”
Dean growled, the vibrations shaking Sam, shaking into his core and pushing him over the edge. He couldn’t do more than groan and hold Dean’s head as he came.
As the shaking subsided, Sam stumbled back a step, his hands falling to his sides. He couldn’t think…this couldn’t have happened. He looked at Dean. Some of the intensity had left his face. His eyes were dark, and he wouldn’t look up at Sam. Somehow, that cut him. Sam moved forward a half step, reaching for Dean’s chin. He had to make it okay for Dean. Sam pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead.
Dean was starting to shake. “Sam…I…”
“Shh. Dean. Lay down.” Sam nearly tripped, then paused to pull his pants and boxers off completely, tossing them aside as he turned back to Dean. He exhaled slowly. Maybe it was best to not think about it…Sam switched off the light and crawled into bed beside Dean, pulling Dean close so that he could hold him against his chest and whisper in his ear, the way Dean had done when they were boys and Sam had a nightmare, or some girl had broken his heart.
The nightmare shook Sam awake in the wee hours of the morning. He lay still, listening to his ragged breathing and trying to place the images. It was a few moments before he realized that Dean was holding him, his body cupped around him from behind. Sam started to move, memory flooding back into him. Dean would probably never remember it, but Sam would never forget.
Dean’s face was close, his breath warm against Sam’s ear. “You ‘kay, Sam?” Dean’s voice whispered.
Sam looked at him, but Dean’s eyes were closed. “Yeah, Dean. I’m good.”
Dean nodded, and his arm tightening around Sam’s bare chest. Sam exhaled slowly and shook his head. His dream had been about losing Dean…again. There was nothing specific he could pinpoint, just the overwhelming sensation of losing him, of pain and blood and death.
Sam closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Dean’s face filled his mind, Dean’s face as he died…Dean’s eyes rolling at something he said…Dean’s face as he’d looked up at him earlier. That led to thinking about what had happened after that…Dean’s mouth and lips and tongue. Damn. Sam opened his eyes.
That was just not something he could think about. It was beyond wrong. Sam set his mind on something else, anything else. He tried to think about Jess…but somehow he couldn’t picture her face. Dad. He’d think about their father. He certainly wouldn’t approve of what had happened. “Ugh.” Sam shook his head.
As if sensing Sam’s distress, Dean moved, his arm pulling Sam closer his body shifting so that they were a little more comfortably spooned together. It was comforting…until Sam felt Dean’s semi-hard cock pressed against his ass. “Sam.” Dean murmured, then he moaned. Sam couldn’t take anymore, pulling away and jumping out of the bed. It was clear Dean was dreaming and Sam decided he didn’t want to know what the dream was about anymore. He slipped into the bathroom to relieve himself, and when that did nothing to relieve him of the insane things running through his mind, and ultimately his body, he turned on the shower.
He let the water pour over him, bracing himself on two of the walls, his head down as he watched his half-hard cock and tried to think about things that wouldn’t encourage it further along. They needed to get out of the truck-stop town where they’d stopped after escaping the doctor and making sure he was arrested for his crimes. They’d been here for almost four days. They ate breakfast at the motel’s diner, drank at the bar and laid in bed watching bad television. Normally Dean was the one itching to keep moving.
Sam sighed and stood up straight. They’d lost track of their father’s trail. They had no new leads on cases where they could help. And then there was Dean. It was fairly clear that something was bothering his brother, but Dean wasn’t really the talking sort. When Sam asked, Dean scoffed and looked perturbed. Sam turned off the shower and reached for a towel. Pulling it around him, he cracked open the bathroom door. Dean was still asleep. Sam tip-toed out and turned the TV on after turning the volume all the way off. He certainly wasn’t going back to sleep. It was almost 4 in the morning.
Sam settled onto the second bed, piling the pillows up behind him as he stretched his legs out and flipped the channels. Nothing was on at this hour, but it beat thinking about Dean. He settled on some badly edited horror movie, setting the remote on the night stand and focusing on the scantily clad femme fatale running away from some nameless monster. He always found these movies amusing. They couldn’t compare to the things they’d seen in real life.
As the woman screamed, Dean called out some incomprehensible sound, a distressed sound that made Sam look his way. Dean’s face was filled with something like fear mixed with anger, his lips curled away from his teeth, his eyes screwed tightly shut. He was sweating, his breathing harsh. The nightmare held him in its grip and Sam was torn between waking him and ignoring him, letting him work through it himself.
Sam glanced back at the screen, which had gone to commercial, then back at his brother. Dean tossed, tangling in his sheet as his face moved into the shadows where Sam couldn’t see it. Sam stood and moved closer, reaching one hand out, preparing to wake him, when Dean quieted. Sam shook his head and moved to return to his bed, when he noticed Dean’s eyes were open. “Dean.”
Dean blinked, then glanced around him furtively as if expecting demons to come crawling out of the shadows. “Sammy…what time is it?”
“Four. You were dreaming.”
Dean nodded. He still looked frightened. “You okay?”
Dean didn’t answer, his eyes on the TV. Sam touched his hand, his fingers curling around his brother’s in concern. “Dean?”
He shook his head, but didn’t pull his hand away. “I must still be drunk.” He ran his free hand over his face, drawing in a shaky breath. “I dreamed about you.” His voice was quiet and his fingers twitched in Sam’s. He wouldn’t look up. “I dreamed…”
“It was a nightmare.” Sam squeezed his brother’s hand, then let go and went back to his own bed.
“Yeah.” Dean sat up, his feet feeling for the floor as he rubbed a hand through his hair. “Right.” He stood and shuffled to the bathroom. Sam heard him mumbling as he relieved himself, then washed his hands. There was a long moment of silence before Dean shuffled back out. Sam looked up. Dean glanced aside at the TV, then moved to the other side of Sam’s bed. He flopped down beside his brother. “What are we watching?”
Sam felt his hand on his arm as Dean rolled to his side, his eyes on Sam rather than the television. “Some movie.”
Sam tried to ignore the way Dean’s hand was rubbing on his arm, concentrating on watching the blonde on the screen. Dean’s hand moved over Sam’s skin, up to his shoulder. His head came to rest on the pillow next to Sam’s. Sam spared a glance at his brother, but his eyes were elsewhere. Dean’s breathing was shallow and Sam found himself mimicking his breathing as the television went to commercial again. His head was spinning with thoughts that had little to do with the movie.
With a deep breath Sam inched away. “Dean…we should…”
He was stopped by Dean’s hand which had moved from his arm to his stomach. “Sammy…I don’t want to talk.”
His hand moved to the towel, attempting to push it aside before Sam’s hand caught his and pushed it away. “Dean. Stop.”
Dean sat up as Sam jumped off the bed. “Sam.”
Sam turned back to Dean, his hands on his hips. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
Dean hung his head, shaking it. “Me either.” He sighed. “I can’t stop thinking…do you remember, Sammy?” Dean’s voice was breathless, his hand reaching out to pull Sam back toward the bed. “We used to…” Dean climbed to his feet, his body close to Sam’s, only the towel and his boxers keeping them apart. Dean’s fingers stroked Sam’s cheek and he found himself closing his eyes, secretly craving that touch.
He felt lips on his, and didn’t immediately move away. His mind was caught on a vague memory, forgotten…repressed…a memory that felt a lot like this. Dean’s other hand snaked around Sam’s waist, the kiss deepened. Without thinking Sam returned the kiss, his tongue tangling around Dean’s as the hand on his cheek moved to cup the back of his head.
When Dean finally broke the kiss, Sam couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t breathe. Dean’s forehead rested against his. “I miss you Sam.” Dean whispered and Sam shivered. He shifted his weight and Sam could feel the hardness hidden by Dean’s boxers. “I thought…I wanted to leave it…but…” His lips pressed to Sam’s again, hot, fervent.
Sam gulped noisily as Dean’s kisses trailed off of his lips, down his jaw line. His breath was hot on Sam’s skin and his fingers felt like fire was they skimmed over his back. Sam couldn’t move as Dean’s hands slid over his exposed skin, down to the towel. Then it was gone and Sam couldn’t deny the effect Dean’s touch was having. He opened his eyes then, raising them slowly to look Dean in the eye as his hands finally did more than hang at his sides. Slowly, Sam reached across the small space that separated them, one hand capturing Dean’s hip to pull him closer. “Dean,” he whispered into his mouth as he kissed him, letting memory flood him and pull him even closer to submitting to this thing building between them…memory of two teenage boys finding comfort in each other in the dark…memory of Dean’s mouth on his cock…Dean’s cock in his mouth…
“Sam.” Dean’s echoing whisper was filled with desperate need and Sam hooked a finger in his boxer’s, encouraging them down, freeing Dean’s erection, one hand instantly sliding along it, instinctively knowing just where his touch was needed to make Dean suck in his breath.
Dean’s mouth closed over Sam’s left nipple and it was Sam’s turn to suck in his breath in a hiss that made Dean grin. Dean moved them toward the already tousled bed. They tumbled onto it and rolled for dominance, Dean ending up on top of Sam, his knee pressed between Sam’s legs, pressing against his cock in a way that made Sam mewl. “Roll over.” Dean said, his voice strained, his fingers trailing over Sam’s skin.
Sam hesitated, but Dean wasn’t waiting anymore and his hands were pulling at him, flipping him onto his stomach, Dean’s body hovering over his, kisses raining down over Sam’s muscular shoulders, down his spine. Dean’s fingers caressed his ass, and Sam heard the drawer of the nightstand open before he felt Dean’s finger circling his opening.
Something wet and warm pushed into him and Sam exhaled slowly. Dean’s other hand was stroking over his skin, his lips skipping over Sam’s neck as he moved himself into position. Neither spoke or breathed as Dean pushed his cock slowly inside of Sam, pulling out again and easing himself deeper. This too Sam remembered, distantly…as if from a dream.
Sam groaned as Dean buried himself inside of him. His cock was harder than he could remember and it almost hurt with his need as Dean moved back out of him. “Please,” he gasped and he felt Dean’s hands at his hips, pulling him back as Dean thrust in.
Dean’s pace quickened, and Sam’s cock dragged across the sheet beneath him with each stroke. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slicked his back as his hands kneaded the sheets and he tried to find leverage to push back against the pressure. Dean’s moaning only intensified his need and Sam found himself panting, digging his knees into the mattress as Dean grunted in exertion.
Dean pulled Sam closer, folding his knees under them both and changing the angle of his thrusting. His lips closed over Sam’s neck, his arms holding Sam close against his chest, letting Sam slid down his cock, then lifting him off. As Sam found his pace and unconsciously took over the movement, Dean’s hand drifted down, circling Sam’s cock and pulling on it in time to his fucking. Sam shuddered in his arms.
He was close…so close…Sam swallowed hard and tried to hold out, but the sound of Dean’s rhythmic groaning spurred him closer and Sam couldn’t help but yell out as he came, his body spasming as his cock exploded in Dean’s hand…and then Dean’s voice was echoing in his ear as his own orgasm ripped through him, and they collapsed forward, Dean’s cock still buried inside of Sam as he came, hard and long.
Sam was spent, sleep beckoning, even as Dean rolled them to a more comfortable position. This was comfortable, familiar…nights after demon hunts and chases, long after their father had gone to sleep…The television made the room glow with a faint light. The commercial for some local church promised that everything would be different from here on out. Sam smiled at the thought, pulling Dean’s arms close around him. Yes, everything was going to change.
Title: Forgotten Pleasures
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: Very NC-17
Words: 3455
Warnings: Wincest. (yes, special hell)
Spoilers: None that I'm aware of.
Summary: Dean gets drunk and decides he's done waiting for Sam to remember how nights used to be, before Sam left for school...Yeah, mostly its about the sex and the angst about the sex.
Sam rolled away from the oncoming fist, landing in an ungraceful roll across the dirty bar room floor. Dean laughed and slammed his fist into the face of the drunk bar patron who’d swung at him. Sam shook his head and climbed to his feet, still not sure how the fight had started. “Come on Dean, let’s just get out of here.”
Dean laughed again, downing his drink before stumbling. Sam caught him and spun him around for the door. “Yeah, just a few drinks.”
“Sammy…my Sammy.” Dean stumbled as they cleared the door. Sam slung an arm under his brother’s arm and guided him away from the bar toward the little motel.
“Yes, Dean. Let’s just put you to bed,” he grumbled, attempting to keep from falling down beneath the dead weight his brother was leaning on him. The whole evening had been a fiasco, starting with Dean waking up in a foul mood after a series of what sounded to Sam like dreams that ranged from raging wet dreams to nightmares and back again.
The last two weeks had been hard on both of them, from the fight with a witch controlling a nasty demon, to two nights spent in uncomfortable proximity after getting caught by a doctor with a bad habit of harvesting organs from live patients and replacing them with demon parts. That cage had been barely large enough to hold one person and they’d been shoved in there together after being dosed up with pretty heavy drugs.
Sam’s own dreams had been pretty disturbing. He could only imagine what Dean’s were like…especially because Dean’s mood had only turned fouler when he’d asked. Dean turned, his eyes narrowing as he studied Sam, his lips pouting and his cheeks red. His hands came up to Sam’s face, holding it and turning it. “Wha’s wrong, Sammy?”
“You’re drunk, Dean.”
Dean laughed at that, turning around in the dim pool of light from the street lamp above them. “Maybe I am.”
“Dean, quiet down.”
Dean turned again and tripped over his own feet, landing in a puddle on the ground. Sam shook his head and moved to help him, bending over and having to smile at the expression on Dean’s face. He put out his hand to help Dean up, but his brother only used it to pull him closer. “I think you might be right,” he whispered conspiratorially, then laughed. Sam shook his head, repositioning himself to leverage Dean to his feet.
“Come on Dean, help me a little.”
Dean put his feet under him and with only a little pulling, popped to his feet, landing only inches from Sam. For a long minute they stood there, breathing and not moving. Then, almost in slow motion, Dean leaned forward, his lips brushing his brother’s. A heartbeat’s hesitation and he pressed in closer, his kiss pressing harder to Sam’s mouth.
They froze then. Both of them swallowed hard. “My beautiful Sammy.” Dean whispered and Sam stepped back.
He was breathless, his mind stuck. He shook his head. “You’re drunk,” he said again. He turned Dean toward the door of their room, staying behind him and prodding him forward until they reached it, then sliding the key card in to let them into the room.
Dean seemed to slip further into his drunken state, stumbling until Sam grabbed him and threw the door shut behind them. “I don’t believe this.” Sam muttered as he manhandled his brother toward the nearest bed.
Legs tangled around legs as Dean clung to Sam and Sam tried in vain to drop Dean to the bed. Eventually gravity won out and they both fell to the mattress, the bed creaking underneath them in protest.
Sam set about disentangling himself from Dean, a job made all the harder by Dean’s insistence in holding on to him. “Sammy…I need to tell you something.”
“Tell me in the morning Dean.” Sam pulled his leg free and rolled away, but Dean’s hand on his arm pulled him back.
Sam found himself face to face with his brother, Dean’s hands on either side of his face. “I love you Sammy.”
Sam smiled. “I love you too Dean.” It wasn’t something they said often anymore, not like when they’d been little.
“No. I mean it. I mean…” Dean let go of his face and turned away now. “I dreamed…”
Sam took advantage of his freedom and got off the bed, moving to pull Dean’s boots off. “You need to sleep, Dean.” With the boots tossed over toward the door, Sam rolled Dean onto his back. “Help me get these jeans off.”
Dean seemed to be well on his way to comatose, so Sam reached up to unbutton the jeans himself, pulling them down his legs and tossing them on the nearby chair. “You should take some aspirin.” Sam kicked off his own shoes and reached for his backpack. The aspirin bottle was nearly empty. He sighed and put it on the table before pulling off his t-shirt. He unbuttoned his jeans then turned toward Dean. He grabbed the aspirin and opened it, putting two in his hand and ducking into the bathroom for a glass of water.
Dean was nearly asleep, or probably more accurately, lapsed into a drunken stupor. Sam squatted near his head and prodded him. “Come on Dean. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
Dean’s eyes opened and Sam dropped the aspirin into his open mouth, handing him the glass. Dean propped himself on his elbow and took two swallows of the water, grimacing as he swallowed the pills. “Good boy.” Sam said with a smile, taking the glass and setting it on the bedside table.
“Sam.” Dean’s hand caressed Sam’s face, his eyes dark. Sam nearly stopped breathing. Something in Dean’s face was so…needy. He’d never seen him like that. Dean’s hand slipped down to Sam’s bare chest. Sam closed his eyes and tried to move away. This was…what? What was this?
Sam opened his eyes and stood. Dean sat up, his finger hooked in the belt loop of Sam’s jeans. His hands moved over Sam’s hips, circling around to cup his ass as Dean’s lips made contact with the bare skin just above his jeans.
Sam groaned as Dean’s chin brushed over his groin, where he was suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Dean.” His voice was low, dangerous, nearly a growl. Dean’s eyes glittered with lust as he looked up.
Their eyes met. Dean’s hands tugged and Sam’s jeans and boxers fell to his knees. Sam moved…tried to move…but Dean’s hands held him, his mouth moved over his skin…and Sam was mesmerized. “Dean…Dean…” He wasn’t even sure what it was he was trying to say, especially not when Dean’s mouth was suddenly closed over his cock, coaxing it to full erection…his tongue sliding over the skin…”Dean…I…damn…”
Sam’s body twitched. His hips moved to the rhythm Dean was establishing, his mouth sliding down his cock, then up again, while his hands pulled him closer. Sam’s eyes closed as he threw his head back, surrendering…his hands found their way to Dean’s head, encouraging, guiding. “Oh…god…Dean…”
Dean growled, the vibrations shaking Sam, shaking into his core and pushing him over the edge. He couldn’t do more than groan and hold Dean’s head as he came.
As the shaking subsided, Sam stumbled back a step, his hands falling to his sides. He couldn’t think…this couldn’t have happened. He looked at Dean. Some of the intensity had left his face. His eyes were dark, and he wouldn’t look up at Sam. Somehow, that cut him. Sam moved forward a half step, reaching for Dean’s chin. He had to make it okay for Dean. Sam pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead.
Dean was starting to shake. “Sam…I…”
“Shh. Dean. Lay down.” Sam nearly tripped, then paused to pull his pants and boxers off completely, tossing them aside as he turned back to Dean. He exhaled slowly. Maybe it was best to not think about it…Sam switched off the light and crawled into bed beside Dean, pulling Dean close so that he could hold him against his chest and whisper in his ear, the way Dean had done when they were boys and Sam had a nightmare, or some girl had broken his heart.
The nightmare shook Sam awake in the wee hours of the morning. He lay still, listening to his ragged breathing and trying to place the images. It was a few moments before he realized that Dean was holding him, his body cupped around him from behind. Sam started to move, memory flooding back into him. Dean would probably never remember it, but Sam would never forget.
Dean’s face was close, his breath warm against Sam’s ear. “You ‘kay, Sam?” Dean’s voice whispered.
Sam looked at him, but Dean’s eyes were closed. “Yeah, Dean. I’m good.”
Dean nodded, and his arm tightening around Sam’s bare chest. Sam exhaled slowly and shook his head. His dream had been about losing Dean…again. There was nothing specific he could pinpoint, just the overwhelming sensation of losing him, of pain and blood and death.
Sam closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Dean’s face filled his mind, Dean’s face as he died…Dean’s eyes rolling at something he said…Dean’s face as he’d looked up at him earlier. That led to thinking about what had happened after that…Dean’s mouth and lips and tongue. Damn. Sam opened his eyes.
That was just not something he could think about. It was beyond wrong. Sam set his mind on something else, anything else. He tried to think about Jess…but somehow he couldn’t picture her face. Dad. He’d think about their father. He certainly wouldn’t approve of what had happened. “Ugh.” Sam shook his head.
As if sensing Sam’s distress, Dean moved, his arm pulling Sam closer his body shifting so that they were a little more comfortably spooned together. It was comforting…until Sam felt Dean’s semi-hard cock pressed against his ass. “Sam.” Dean murmured, then he moaned. Sam couldn’t take anymore, pulling away and jumping out of the bed. It was clear Dean was dreaming and Sam decided he didn’t want to know what the dream was about anymore. He slipped into the bathroom to relieve himself, and when that did nothing to relieve him of the insane things running through his mind, and ultimately his body, he turned on the shower.
He let the water pour over him, bracing himself on two of the walls, his head down as he watched his half-hard cock and tried to think about things that wouldn’t encourage it further along. They needed to get out of the truck-stop town where they’d stopped after escaping the doctor and making sure he was arrested for his crimes. They’d been here for almost four days. They ate breakfast at the motel’s diner, drank at the bar and laid in bed watching bad television. Normally Dean was the one itching to keep moving.
Sam sighed and stood up straight. They’d lost track of their father’s trail. They had no new leads on cases where they could help. And then there was Dean. It was fairly clear that something was bothering his brother, but Dean wasn’t really the talking sort. When Sam asked, Dean scoffed and looked perturbed. Sam turned off the shower and reached for a towel. Pulling it around him, he cracked open the bathroom door. Dean was still asleep. Sam tip-toed out and turned the TV on after turning the volume all the way off. He certainly wasn’t going back to sleep. It was almost 4 in the morning.
Sam settled onto the second bed, piling the pillows up behind him as he stretched his legs out and flipped the channels. Nothing was on at this hour, but it beat thinking about Dean. He settled on some badly edited horror movie, setting the remote on the night stand and focusing on the scantily clad femme fatale running away from some nameless monster. He always found these movies amusing. They couldn’t compare to the things they’d seen in real life.
As the woman screamed, Dean called out some incomprehensible sound, a distressed sound that made Sam look his way. Dean’s face was filled with something like fear mixed with anger, his lips curled away from his teeth, his eyes screwed tightly shut. He was sweating, his breathing harsh. The nightmare held him in its grip and Sam was torn between waking him and ignoring him, letting him work through it himself.
Sam glanced back at the screen, which had gone to commercial, then back at his brother. Dean tossed, tangling in his sheet as his face moved into the shadows where Sam couldn’t see it. Sam stood and moved closer, reaching one hand out, preparing to wake him, when Dean quieted. Sam shook his head and moved to return to his bed, when he noticed Dean’s eyes were open. “Dean.”
Dean blinked, then glanced around him furtively as if expecting demons to come crawling out of the shadows. “Sammy…what time is it?”
“Four. You were dreaming.”
Dean nodded. He still looked frightened. “You okay?”
Dean didn’t answer, his eyes on the TV. Sam touched his hand, his fingers curling around his brother’s in concern. “Dean?”
He shook his head, but didn’t pull his hand away. “I must still be drunk.” He ran his free hand over his face, drawing in a shaky breath. “I dreamed about you.” His voice was quiet and his fingers twitched in Sam’s. He wouldn’t look up. “I dreamed…”
“It was a nightmare.” Sam squeezed his brother’s hand, then let go and went back to his own bed.
“Yeah.” Dean sat up, his feet feeling for the floor as he rubbed a hand through his hair. “Right.” He stood and shuffled to the bathroom. Sam heard him mumbling as he relieved himself, then washed his hands. There was a long moment of silence before Dean shuffled back out. Sam looked up. Dean glanced aside at the TV, then moved to the other side of Sam’s bed. He flopped down beside his brother. “What are we watching?”
Sam felt his hand on his arm as Dean rolled to his side, his eyes on Sam rather than the television. “Some movie.”
Sam tried to ignore the way Dean’s hand was rubbing on his arm, concentrating on watching the blonde on the screen. Dean’s hand moved over Sam’s skin, up to his shoulder. His head came to rest on the pillow next to Sam’s. Sam spared a glance at his brother, but his eyes were elsewhere. Dean’s breathing was shallow and Sam found himself mimicking his breathing as the television went to commercial again. His head was spinning with thoughts that had little to do with the movie.
With a deep breath Sam inched away. “Dean…we should…”
He was stopped by Dean’s hand which had moved from his arm to his stomach. “Sammy…I don’t want to talk.”
His hand moved to the towel, attempting to push it aside before Sam’s hand caught his and pushed it away. “Dean. Stop.”
Dean sat up as Sam jumped off the bed. “Sam.”
Sam turned back to Dean, his hands on his hips. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
Dean hung his head, shaking it. “Me either.” He sighed. “I can’t stop thinking…do you remember, Sammy?” Dean’s voice was breathless, his hand reaching out to pull Sam back toward the bed. “We used to…” Dean climbed to his feet, his body close to Sam’s, only the towel and his boxers keeping them apart. Dean’s fingers stroked Sam’s cheek and he found himself closing his eyes, secretly craving that touch.
He felt lips on his, and didn’t immediately move away. His mind was caught on a vague memory, forgotten…repressed…a memory that felt a lot like this. Dean’s other hand snaked around Sam’s waist, the kiss deepened. Without thinking Sam returned the kiss, his tongue tangling around Dean’s as the hand on his cheek moved to cup the back of his head.
When Dean finally broke the kiss, Sam couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t breathe. Dean’s forehead rested against his. “I miss you Sam.” Dean whispered and Sam shivered. He shifted his weight and Sam could feel the hardness hidden by Dean’s boxers. “I thought…I wanted to leave it…but…” His lips pressed to Sam’s again, hot, fervent.
Sam gulped noisily as Dean’s kisses trailed off of his lips, down his jaw line. His breath was hot on Sam’s skin and his fingers felt like fire was they skimmed over his back. Sam couldn’t move as Dean’s hands slid over his exposed skin, down to the towel. Then it was gone and Sam couldn’t deny the effect Dean’s touch was having. He opened his eyes then, raising them slowly to look Dean in the eye as his hands finally did more than hang at his sides. Slowly, Sam reached across the small space that separated them, one hand capturing Dean’s hip to pull him closer. “Dean,” he whispered into his mouth as he kissed him, letting memory flood him and pull him even closer to submitting to this thing building between them…memory of two teenage boys finding comfort in each other in the dark…memory of Dean’s mouth on his cock…Dean’s cock in his mouth…
“Sam.” Dean’s echoing whisper was filled with desperate need and Sam hooked a finger in his boxer’s, encouraging them down, freeing Dean’s erection, one hand instantly sliding along it, instinctively knowing just where his touch was needed to make Dean suck in his breath.
Dean’s mouth closed over Sam’s left nipple and it was Sam’s turn to suck in his breath in a hiss that made Dean grin. Dean moved them toward the already tousled bed. They tumbled onto it and rolled for dominance, Dean ending up on top of Sam, his knee pressed between Sam’s legs, pressing against his cock in a way that made Sam mewl. “Roll over.” Dean said, his voice strained, his fingers trailing over Sam’s skin.
Sam hesitated, but Dean wasn’t waiting anymore and his hands were pulling at him, flipping him onto his stomach, Dean’s body hovering over his, kisses raining down over Sam’s muscular shoulders, down his spine. Dean’s fingers caressed his ass, and Sam heard the drawer of the nightstand open before he felt Dean’s finger circling his opening.
Something wet and warm pushed into him and Sam exhaled slowly. Dean’s other hand was stroking over his skin, his lips skipping over Sam’s neck as he moved himself into position. Neither spoke or breathed as Dean pushed his cock slowly inside of Sam, pulling out again and easing himself deeper. This too Sam remembered, distantly…as if from a dream.
Sam groaned as Dean buried himself inside of him. His cock was harder than he could remember and it almost hurt with his need as Dean moved back out of him. “Please,” he gasped and he felt Dean’s hands at his hips, pulling him back as Dean thrust in.
Dean’s pace quickened, and Sam’s cock dragged across the sheet beneath him with each stroke. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slicked his back as his hands kneaded the sheets and he tried to find leverage to push back against the pressure. Dean’s moaning only intensified his need and Sam found himself panting, digging his knees into the mattress as Dean grunted in exertion.
Dean pulled Sam closer, folding his knees under them both and changing the angle of his thrusting. His lips closed over Sam’s neck, his arms holding Sam close against his chest, letting Sam slid down his cock, then lifting him off. As Sam found his pace and unconsciously took over the movement, Dean’s hand drifted down, circling Sam’s cock and pulling on it in time to his fucking. Sam shuddered in his arms.
He was close…so close…Sam swallowed hard and tried to hold out, but the sound of Dean’s rhythmic groaning spurred him closer and Sam couldn’t help but yell out as he came, his body spasming as his cock exploded in Dean’s hand…and then Dean’s voice was echoing in his ear as his own orgasm ripped through him, and they collapsed forward, Dean’s cock still buried inside of Sam as he came, hard and long.
Sam was spent, sleep beckoning, even as Dean rolled them to a more comfortable position. This was comfortable, familiar…nights after demon hunts and chases, long after their father had gone to sleep…The television made the room glow with a faint light. The commercial for some local church promised that everything would be different from here on out. Sam smiled at the thought, pulling Dean’s arms close around him. Yes, everything was going to change.