Sam'n'Dean
Title: Sam'n'Dean
Word count: 3300
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Genre: Pre-series, shmoop
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Underage (Sam's 16, Dean's 20)
Summary: Sam and Dean just are who they are. And neither of them would change that for the world.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. This is a work of fiction. No profit is being made off of this work.
Sam’n’Dean
Dean came back from a hunt, bloodied and battered and Sam sat down Albertus Magnus’ Petite Albert. He greeted Dean in the hallway. Squinted his eyes against the bright Nevada summer sun until the door fell shut and Dean dropped his duffle bag. He let his eyes sweep over Dean while his brother shrugged out of his soiled jacket.
Dried, smeared specks of blood framed Dean’s face where a quick scrub with a handful of water hadn’t been enough to reach. Dean glanced at him and smiled.
“It’s not mine, Sammy.”
“I know,” he said and blew a strand of hair of his forehead. Returned the smile and welcomed the quick peck on his lips.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Dean said, slapped him on the shoulder and headed up the stairs. Sam watched his back until he was out of sight then headed for the kitchen. He turned on the stove to heat up the lunch he’d prepared and set the table.
After his shower the tap-tap of bare feet on creaky floorboard announced Dean’s return. Shirtless, Dean appeared in the doorway, gauze and needle in hand.
“Guess some of it was mine, after all,” he said. Held the tools out to him. “Patch me up?”
He rolled his eyes but nodded at a chair. Dean sat down backwards and rested his arms on the backrest. His biceps bulged out as he leant forward and bared his broad back. Across his right shoulder blade, there was a semi-clotted gash, about three inches long.
“Quite the love bite,” Sam said and got the Whiskey. Poured some on a clean towel and dabbed it against the wound.
Dean grunted. Then shrugged. “’s nothing.”
“Well, certainly not the worst you ever had. Now, sit still.” He put the needle to Dean’s skin.
“Dad home yet?” Dean asked.
“No. He called this morning, said he’d take another couple days.”
Dean glanced over his shoulder. Smirked.
Sam saw the intent in his eyes and returned the smirk. Placed a kiss on Dean’s cheek, just to feel the prick of scruff against his lips. Blindly, he taped the gauze to Dean’s shoulder and whispered into his skin. “All done.”
Dean turned to capture his lips. “Thanks.”
Satisfied, he stepped back and let Dean sit up properly.
“You hungry?” He asked, turning to the stove.
“Starving, Sammy. Starving.”
He chuckled. “Figured.”
Dean had gotten up and opened the fridge. Held out two bottles of beer. “Want one?”
He hesitated for a moment then nodded. Dean opened the bottles with his ring and put them by their plates.
“Smells amazing, Sammy,” he said, glancing into the pot of chilli Sam had placed on the table. “Man, I’m so glad I didn’t stop at that diner and spoil this.” He filled first Sam’s plate then his own. Hesitated before putting another heap on it.
Sam grinned to himself. “As if you could ever spoil your appetite.”
Dean tilted his head in silent agreement. Took a healthy bite of the bread Sam had cut up.
When they were finished, the pot was empty. Dean leant back, patted his stomach. “Man, that was awesome. You should cook more often.”
Sam reached over and pinched Dean’s side. “I don’t think I should,” he said even though there wasn’t much to pinch. He just liked to tease Dean.
Dean hiked his eyebrows up. Said, “Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
A smile danced around Dean’s lips. Sam got up and reached for the plates but Dean stopped him. “No, ‘s okay. I’ll clean up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You cooked, I’ll clean up. Fair and square. Besides,” Dean nodded at the book, spread out page down at the end of the table, “Dad ask you to?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah.” Sighed. “But it’s not so bad. And I’m almost finished.”
“Alright. Then you get that done and I get shit done here, and then we can hang out.”
“Hang out, huh?”
Dean gave his sleaziest smile. “And stuff.”
Laughing and shaking his head, Sam grabbed the book and went to crash on the couch.
About half an hour later, Dean joined him in the living room. Another beer and a soda in hand. Sam glanced up. “Did you renovate the kitchen?”
“Shut up,” Dean said and knocked his feet of the couch. Handed him the soda. “It’s sparkling now, smartass.”
Sam doubted anything in this home-of-the-month would ever be sparkling but he if Dean wanted to believe it, he wasn't going to bust his bubble.
Dean took a hit of his beer then nodded at the book in his hands. Smirked. “Thought you said you were almost finished.”
He lifted the book so Dean could see the cover of Fahrenheit 451. “I am. This is for fun.”
“No,” Dean said and pointed at the book. “That’s for school.”
He lounged back on the couch and laid his head on Dean’s lap. “Same difference.”
Dean just huffed and turned on the TV. Settled on a rerun of Home Improvement. With Dean distracted, and his book for cover, Sam used the opportunity to alternate between reading and trailing his eyes up his brother’s bare torso. Over the plane of his abdomen that spread out into a broad chest and shoulders which sloped down smoothly into strong arms. Everything was padded just that tiny little bit, still a long way from even so much as chubby, abs visible but blurring slightly right around Dean’s waist. In the end, it just made Dean’s arms and chest appear bigger. Stronger. In the faint dip between his pecs, the amulet he’d given Dean, was nestled safely. Sam smiled to himself. He always felt like that thing must, when he was with Dean.
Not that he’d ever dare tell Dean, but he found it amazing how Dean just looked, well… healthy. His own abs were more defined, not so much from working out though. He was just a natural beanpole. It was like Dean had skipped the awkward teenage stage all together. Like he’d just gone to bed a kid one day and woke up the next with broad shoulders and a razor for daily usage. Sam on the other hand was pretty sure he had gotten double the time, lean and lanky as he was. The hair on his legs and arms barely more than peach fuzz and when he shaved, his chin was smooth for at least a week. Going on two. But he didn’t really mind. Dean and he fit together like that, two sides of the same coin.
After a while, Dean’s hand settled in his hair. Lazy fingers started to play with the strands and Sam knew Dean was ready. It was his tell and it was not like Sam wasn’t in the mood, but he enjoyed the sensation too much, felt too content to move just yet.
He kept still a little longer, read a couple more pages then shut the book and dropped it onto his chest. Glanced up at Dean, smiling softly.
Dean took the last hit of his beer, an eyebrow quirked in question.
Sam’s smile spread into a grin. “What can I say? I just had to finish the chapter.”
With wide eyes Dean looked down at him. “’Just had to…’” He mimicked him then leant forward. Almost smothered him with his abdomen when he set down the empty bottle. He’d clearly not forgotten Sam’s earlier remark. Somewhere between coughing and laughing, Sam sat up after Dean had straightened again. “You trying to kill me with that bottomless pit?” He asked and wiped his squashed hair from his forehead.
Dean sunk further into the couch. Sucked in a breath and pushed his gut out. He placed both hands on top and grinned at him. “Well, I am your big brother, Sammy. Got a problem with that?”
Sam reached out and cupped Dean’s belly, right below the navel. Played with the trail of curly hair there. “No,” he said, keeping his voice low. “No problem at all, Dean.”
Dean’s abs deflated back into the smooth plane and his eyes blew over with lust.
Pleased, Sam smiled to himself and went on. “The only thing I got a problem with is that my big brother’s ass is still planted on the couch.”
It wasn’t quite fair, he’d been the one to procrastinate but it made Dean growl low in his throat, grab him around the hips and sling him over his shoulder. So in his book, the end clearly justified the means.
Given they were almost the same height, Dean really shouldn’t have been able to carry him that easily, but Sam was glad he could. It gave him a close up of Dean’s ass in those low slung jeans that were just tight enough to show off its smooth curve. He slapped it, because he could and Dean chuckled, trudging on unfazed.
As Dean carried him up the stairs, Sam watched the muscles in his lower back work. A faint tan line dipped in and out of view and Sam’s mouth watered. When Dean dropped him on the bed, Sam didn’t even wait to stop bouncing before he set out to get his clothes off. After the last sock had found the floor he shifted and looked to Dean, who just stood at the foot of the bed, naked and watching him.
Sam flicked back his hair to see better, take in the warm shimmer on Dean’s face as the golden shine of the sun wrapped him in a translucent blanket. The smile on his face was lopsided. Far away. Dean saw something in him that he wasn’t. Not yet. But the pride in Dean’s eyes made him wish that someday he’d become that man. Made him sure that he could.
“I… You’re so…” Dean said but broke off with a full smile. He shook his head slightly, not too good with words. Sam knew that. And Dean didn’t have to be. He just needed one word. From the way he said it Sam had always been able to tell everything about Dean.
“Sammy,” Dean said and their lips met. Sam cupped his cheek, brushed a thumb over Dean’s chin. Enjoyed the rasp of stubble that was threatening to become just a tad too long to still count as such.
Lying side by side, the heads of their cocks brushed, danced together with every slight twitch of their hips as they kissed. Sam stroked his hand down Dean’s arm, squeezed it around the biceps feeling the soft resistance, before he trailed his fingers down further to Dean’s broad hand. Heavy and calloused, but gentle and warm it rested on his hip.
Sam covered it and broke the kiss. Leaned their foreheads together. Dean’s eyes had fallen to half mast and a feverish flush had risen into his cheeks. His lips were glistening and slightly parted, looking as red and plump as Sam’s own felt. They breathed in low and fast, their chests rising and falling in sync.
Dean’s mouth closed. He swallowed hard then just said, “Sammy,” and Sam knew. He lifted his hand from Dean’s and rested two fingers against Dean’s lower lip. Watched as Dean sucked them in. He felt his tongue lap around his fingers before he pulled them free again with a soft smack.
He reached down and Dean lifted his leg, let go of Sam’s hip to grab onto his own thigh. To help spread himself open, as Sam slid his fingers between his butt cheeks.
Sam teased the sensitive rim of Dean’s hole, felt it pucker and watched Dean gnaw on his lower lip, breathing in deep through his nose. He placed a peck on the tip and tried not to think too hard on how his own cock was about ready to explode while he slowly fingered Dean open.
When Sam was sure Dean was loose enough, he pulled back and Dean dropped his thigh. Sam pushed up to his elbows and sat a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Mindful of the gash even though Dean probably wouldn’t have minded. Probably wouldn’t even have noticed.
He pressed Dean down into the mattress, something he wouldn’t be able to do if Dean didn’t let him. If Dean didn’t enjoy being manhandled by him so much.
He rubbed his hand down his dick as he watched Dean stretch out on his belly. Arms wrapped around the pillow beneath his head. Bent like that his biceps formed two smooth hills and Sam placed a kiss to each. Then he swung his leg over and sat on Dean’s thighs, his cock bobbing against his abs. He placed his hands on Dean’s side, followed the wide V as it tapered into narrow hips and listened to Dean humming softly at the touch. He grabbed the globes of Dean’s ass, kneaded them, felt then flex and relax, and pushed his dick between. Sam gasped a moan, just as Dean did when the head caught on Dean’s hole before it slipped past and peeked back out at Dean’s lower back. He squeezed the cheeks around his dick. Watched as it dripped a little pool of pre-cum into the grooves on Dean’s lower back. All the while Dean tried to spread his thighs. Unconsciously, Sam knew, because the movement was too timid to be all Dean. Nonetheless it was urging him to just. Get In.
Sam moaned at the thought, willed his eyes to remain open. Reached with shaky hands for the lube. He uncapped it, squeezed a trail in the crack and Dean choked. “Fuck. ‘s cold, Sammy.”
He bit his lip. “Yeah… Sorry.” So, this time, before he spread some on his dick, he warmed it in his hand. Then he leaned over Dean, elbow by his face. Lined up with Dean’s hole and, glancing into Dean’s blown eyes, he said, “Ready?”
Dean just grunted. Smirked. “As a bitch in heat.”
Sam’s face split with a grin. He pushed his hips forward and slowly his cock slipped into Dean. Got sucked into a warm, tight grip.
He adjusted his position, laid down on Dean’s back, matching Dean’s frame. Their fingers entwined and Sam began to roll his hips. Push in and pull out. Dean had tilted his hips, rocking just slightly in rhythm to meet him, his thighs spread wide to give Sam room.
As they moved, the low smack of skin against skin mingled with their breathless moans. With time Sam felt his back grow hot where the sun shone on it and Dean shifting beneath him. Getting restless. He knew what was going to happen next and let go of Dean’s hands. Hugged Dean’s sides instead, holding on tight as Dean pushed them up on all fours.
“Sammy,” Dean said and Sam shifted his weight until it rested on his knees. Dean grabbed onto the headrest, while Sam held onto Dean’s side. His fingers sat snugly in the grooves formed by Dean’s obliques and got stretched wide with every breath Dean took. One hand though, he placed between Dean’s shoulders blades. Amazed by how tiny they made it look. He pressed in, used it to support himself as he started to fuck hard into Dean, and Dean’s bowed back didn’t even budge. Dean just held up his weight like it was nothing and Sam felt himself get close to the edge.
But not yet. Not yet. He stopped the pump of his hip. Took a deep breath.
“Dean,” he said. Couldn’t have said more if he wanted to, but Dean didn’t need more than one word from him either. Smiling, Dean glanced over his shoulder, nodded and Sam pulled out. Leant back to give Dean the space he needed to roll onto his back.
He didn’t even wait until the squeak of the mattress had subsided before he grabbed Dean around his thighs and pushed up. Folded him nearly in half as he surged down to capture Dean’s lips. To swallow the rumbling laugh.
With ease, Sam’s dick slotted back into Dean. Back into the heat. He leant back slightly. Kissed a trail up the inside of Dean’s thigh. Bit into the taut muscle of his calf. The faint hair there tickled his lips and he nipped it. Tugged at it slightly and watched from the corner of his eyes how Dean’s eyes squeezed shut. How his teeth gnawed on his lower lip and the flush in his cheeks deepened.
Sam kissed the spot he just nipped then straightened back up. He kept fucking into Dean, but slowly the strain on his shoulders got too much. Dean had thirty pounds on him and he wasn’t the most bendy person. So he called out his brother’s name again and Dean knew. His hands came up and dug into his thighs, pulled them closer to his chest lifting most of the weight of Sam.
It allowed Sam to lean in closer and still keep up the rhythm. Bury his face in the crook of Dean’s neck while he buried his dick as deep inside Dean as he could. He feelt the rasp of stubble against his own smooth cheek, and exploded. Filled Dean up with all he got. Pulled his head back then, just in time, to watch Dean come too. Watch Dean come with his lip between his teeth and his chin tucked to his chest. And, damn god, with his knees by his head, bulging thighs framing the bliss on his face.
Cum shooting in hot spurts between their bellies, Dean gasped his name. Pushed it past his sucked in lip. Not Sammy, though, but, “Sam.”
And Sam thought his heart might burst as the aftershocks wrecked him. He held onto his brother like his life depended on it. Said his name over and over again until he didn’t even have any breath left for that.
Dean helped him pull out and Sam curled up in his arms. Dean’s hold was tight and warm as he rested his head on Dean’s chest. Smiled at the golden amulet.
Later when they were back downstairs, just hanging out, watching TV, and Sam sat with his back against Dean’s chest, Sam remembered something.
"You know that guy from the library?" He asked. "You saw him a few days ago."
"The one with the stick up his ass?"
Sam nodded. "He came up to me again, today. Told me, if I ever get picked up again, I should tell my brother to wait outside. Apparently you scare some of their more sensitive customers."
Dean huffed a breath. "And what did you say?"
"I said you're not my brother." Dean’s arms tightened around him and Sam turned to look up at Dean before he could say something. "I told him you're my boyfriend."
The frown on Dean's face smoothed into a smile. "Wish I'd seen his face."
"Yeah," Sam said. "But that wasn't all. He suddenly got like all... curious, you know? Asked me what it's like to take it up the ass.
Dean's eyebrows traveled to his hairline. "What did you say?"
Shrugging, Sam lent back against Dean's chest. "Told him he'd have to ask you." He grinned. "You should have seen that face."
Dean burst out laughing. "Awesome," he said. Placed a kiss into the crook behind his ear. "Man..." he said but trailed off, growing solemn. Then he said, "Hey, uh… Sam,” and Sam frowned. Turned and looked up at his brother.
Dean curled a hand around his neck, pulled him in for a kiss. Then closed his eyes and spoke against his lips. “Don’t ever change, man.”
He smiled and hugged his brother. Pressed his face into his shoulders. “You too, Dean. You too.”
Word count: 3300
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Genre: Pre-series, shmoop
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Underage (Sam's 16, Dean's 20)
Summary: Sam and Dean just are who they are. And neither of them would change that for the world.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. This is a work of fiction. No profit is being made off of this work.
Sam’n’Dean
Dean came back from a hunt, bloodied and battered and Sam sat down Albertus Magnus’ Petite Albert. He greeted Dean in the hallway. Squinted his eyes against the bright Nevada summer sun until the door fell shut and Dean dropped his duffle bag. He let his eyes sweep over Dean while his brother shrugged out of his soiled jacket.
Dried, smeared specks of blood framed Dean’s face where a quick scrub with a handful of water hadn’t been enough to reach. Dean glanced at him and smiled.
“It’s not mine, Sammy.”
“I know,” he said and blew a strand of hair of his forehead. Returned the smile and welcomed the quick peck on his lips.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Dean said, slapped him on the shoulder and headed up the stairs. Sam watched his back until he was out of sight then headed for the kitchen. He turned on the stove to heat up the lunch he’d prepared and set the table.
After his shower the tap-tap of bare feet on creaky floorboard announced Dean’s return. Shirtless, Dean appeared in the doorway, gauze and needle in hand.
“Guess some of it was mine, after all,” he said. Held the tools out to him. “Patch me up?”
He rolled his eyes but nodded at a chair. Dean sat down backwards and rested his arms on the backrest. His biceps bulged out as he leant forward and bared his broad back. Across his right shoulder blade, there was a semi-clotted gash, about three inches long.
“Quite the love bite,” Sam said and got the Whiskey. Poured some on a clean towel and dabbed it against the wound.
Dean grunted. Then shrugged. “’s nothing.”
“Well, certainly not the worst you ever had. Now, sit still.” He put the needle to Dean’s skin.
“Dad home yet?” Dean asked.
“No. He called this morning, said he’d take another couple days.”
Dean glanced over his shoulder. Smirked.
Sam saw the intent in his eyes and returned the smirk. Placed a kiss on Dean’s cheek, just to feel the prick of scruff against his lips. Blindly, he taped the gauze to Dean’s shoulder and whispered into his skin. “All done.”
Dean turned to capture his lips. “Thanks.”
Satisfied, he stepped back and let Dean sit up properly.
“You hungry?” He asked, turning to the stove.
“Starving, Sammy. Starving.”
He chuckled. “Figured.”
Dean had gotten up and opened the fridge. Held out two bottles of beer. “Want one?”
He hesitated for a moment then nodded. Dean opened the bottles with his ring and put them by their plates.
“Smells amazing, Sammy,” he said, glancing into the pot of chilli Sam had placed on the table. “Man, I’m so glad I didn’t stop at that diner and spoil this.” He filled first Sam’s plate then his own. Hesitated before putting another heap on it.
Sam grinned to himself. “As if you could ever spoil your appetite.”
Dean tilted his head in silent agreement. Took a healthy bite of the bread Sam had cut up.
When they were finished, the pot was empty. Dean leant back, patted his stomach. “Man, that was awesome. You should cook more often.”
Sam reached over and pinched Dean’s side. “I don’t think I should,” he said even though there wasn’t much to pinch. He just liked to tease Dean.
Dean hiked his eyebrows up. Said, “Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
A smile danced around Dean’s lips. Sam got up and reached for the plates but Dean stopped him. “No, ‘s okay. I’ll clean up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You cooked, I’ll clean up. Fair and square. Besides,” Dean nodded at the book, spread out page down at the end of the table, “Dad ask you to?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah.” Sighed. “But it’s not so bad. And I’m almost finished.”
“Alright. Then you get that done and I get shit done here, and then we can hang out.”
“Hang out, huh?”
Dean gave his sleaziest smile. “And stuff.”
Laughing and shaking his head, Sam grabbed the book and went to crash on the couch.
About half an hour later, Dean joined him in the living room. Another beer and a soda in hand. Sam glanced up. “Did you renovate the kitchen?”
“Shut up,” Dean said and knocked his feet of the couch. Handed him the soda. “It’s sparkling now, smartass.”
Sam doubted anything in this home-of-the-month would ever be sparkling but he if Dean wanted to believe it, he wasn't going to bust his bubble.
Dean took a hit of his beer then nodded at the book in his hands. Smirked. “Thought you said you were almost finished.”
He lifted the book so Dean could see the cover of Fahrenheit 451. “I am. This is for fun.”
“No,” Dean said and pointed at the book. “That’s for school.”
He lounged back on the couch and laid his head on Dean’s lap. “Same difference.”
Dean just huffed and turned on the TV. Settled on a rerun of Home Improvement. With Dean distracted, and his book for cover, Sam used the opportunity to alternate between reading and trailing his eyes up his brother’s bare torso. Over the plane of his abdomen that spread out into a broad chest and shoulders which sloped down smoothly into strong arms. Everything was padded just that tiny little bit, still a long way from even so much as chubby, abs visible but blurring slightly right around Dean’s waist. In the end, it just made Dean’s arms and chest appear bigger. Stronger. In the faint dip between his pecs, the amulet he’d given Dean, was nestled safely. Sam smiled to himself. He always felt like that thing must, when he was with Dean.
Not that he’d ever dare tell Dean, but he found it amazing how Dean just looked, well… healthy. His own abs were more defined, not so much from working out though. He was just a natural beanpole. It was like Dean had skipped the awkward teenage stage all together. Like he’d just gone to bed a kid one day and woke up the next with broad shoulders and a razor for daily usage. Sam on the other hand was pretty sure he had gotten double the time, lean and lanky as he was. The hair on his legs and arms barely more than peach fuzz and when he shaved, his chin was smooth for at least a week. Going on two. But he didn’t really mind. Dean and he fit together like that, two sides of the same coin.
After a while, Dean’s hand settled in his hair. Lazy fingers started to play with the strands and Sam knew Dean was ready. It was his tell and it was not like Sam wasn’t in the mood, but he enjoyed the sensation too much, felt too content to move just yet.
He kept still a little longer, read a couple more pages then shut the book and dropped it onto his chest. Glanced up at Dean, smiling softly.
Dean took the last hit of his beer, an eyebrow quirked in question.
Sam’s smile spread into a grin. “What can I say? I just had to finish the chapter.”
With wide eyes Dean looked down at him. “’Just had to…’” He mimicked him then leant forward. Almost smothered him with his abdomen when he set down the empty bottle. He’d clearly not forgotten Sam’s earlier remark. Somewhere between coughing and laughing, Sam sat up after Dean had straightened again. “You trying to kill me with that bottomless pit?” He asked and wiped his squashed hair from his forehead.
Dean sunk further into the couch. Sucked in a breath and pushed his gut out. He placed both hands on top and grinned at him. “Well, I am your big brother, Sammy. Got a problem with that?”
Sam reached out and cupped Dean’s belly, right below the navel. Played with the trail of curly hair there. “No,” he said, keeping his voice low. “No problem at all, Dean.”
Dean’s abs deflated back into the smooth plane and his eyes blew over with lust.
Pleased, Sam smiled to himself and went on. “The only thing I got a problem with is that my big brother’s ass is still planted on the couch.”
It wasn’t quite fair, he’d been the one to procrastinate but it made Dean growl low in his throat, grab him around the hips and sling him over his shoulder. So in his book, the end clearly justified the means.
Given they were almost the same height, Dean really shouldn’t have been able to carry him that easily, but Sam was glad he could. It gave him a close up of Dean’s ass in those low slung jeans that were just tight enough to show off its smooth curve. He slapped it, because he could and Dean chuckled, trudging on unfazed.
As Dean carried him up the stairs, Sam watched the muscles in his lower back work. A faint tan line dipped in and out of view and Sam’s mouth watered. When Dean dropped him on the bed, Sam didn’t even wait to stop bouncing before he set out to get his clothes off. After the last sock had found the floor he shifted and looked to Dean, who just stood at the foot of the bed, naked and watching him.
Sam flicked back his hair to see better, take in the warm shimmer on Dean’s face as the golden shine of the sun wrapped him in a translucent blanket. The smile on his face was lopsided. Far away. Dean saw something in him that he wasn’t. Not yet. But the pride in Dean’s eyes made him wish that someday he’d become that man. Made him sure that he could.
“I… You’re so…” Dean said but broke off with a full smile. He shook his head slightly, not too good with words. Sam knew that. And Dean didn’t have to be. He just needed one word. From the way he said it Sam had always been able to tell everything about Dean.
“Sammy,” Dean said and their lips met. Sam cupped his cheek, brushed a thumb over Dean’s chin. Enjoyed the rasp of stubble that was threatening to become just a tad too long to still count as such.
Lying side by side, the heads of their cocks brushed, danced together with every slight twitch of their hips as they kissed. Sam stroked his hand down Dean’s arm, squeezed it around the biceps feeling the soft resistance, before he trailed his fingers down further to Dean’s broad hand. Heavy and calloused, but gentle and warm it rested on his hip.
Sam covered it and broke the kiss. Leaned their foreheads together. Dean’s eyes had fallen to half mast and a feverish flush had risen into his cheeks. His lips were glistening and slightly parted, looking as red and plump as Sam’s own felt. They breathed in low and fast, their chests rising and falling in sync.
Dean’s mouth closed. He swallowed hard then just said, “Sammy,” and Sam knew. He lifted his hand from Dean’s and rested two fingers against Dean’s lower lip. Watched as Dean sucked them in. He felt his tongue lap around his fingers before he pulled them free again with a soft smack.
He reached down and Dean lifted his leg, let go of Sam’s hip to grab onto his own thigh. To help spread himself open, as Sam slid his fingers between his butt cheeks.
Sam teased the sensitive rim of Dean’s hole, felt it pucker and watched Dean gnaw on his lower lip, breathing in deep through his nose. He placed a peck on the tip and tried not to think too hard on how his own cock was about ready to explode while he slowly fingered Dean open.
When Sam was sure Dean was loose enough, he pulled back and Dean dropped his thigh. Sam pushed up to his elbows and sat a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Mindful of the gash even though Dean probably wouldn’t have minded. Probably wouldn’t even have noticed.
He pressed Dean down into the mattress, something he wouldn’t be able to do if Dean didn’t let him. If Dean didn’t enjoy being manhandled by him so much.
He rubbed his hand down his dick as he watched Dean stretch out on his belly. Arms wrapped around the pillow beneath his head. Bent like that his biceps formed two smooth hills and Sam placed a kiss to each. Then he swung his leg over and sat on Dean’s thighs, his cock bobbing against his abs. He placed his hands on Dean’s side, followed the wide V as it tapered into narrow hips and listened to Dean humming softly at the touch. He grabbed the globes of Dean’s ass, kneaded them, felt then flex and relax, and pushed his dick between. Sam gasped a moan, just as Dean did when the head caught on Dean’s hole before it slipped past and peeked back out at Dean’s lower back. He squeezed the cheeks around his dick. Watched as it dripped a little pool of pre-cum into the grooves on Dean’s lower back. All the while Dean tried to spread his thighs. Unconsciously, Sam knew, because the movement was too timid to be all Dean. Nonetheless it was urging him to just. Get In.
Sam moaned at the thought, willed his eyes to remain open. Reached with shaky hands for the lube. He uncapped it, squeezed a trail in the crack and Dean choked. “Fuck. ‘s cold, Sammy.”
He bit his lip. “Yeah… Sorry.” So, this time, before he spread some on his dick, he warmed it in his hand. Then he leaned over Dean, elbow by his face. Lined up with Dean’s hole and, glancing into Dean’s blown eyes, he said, “Ready?”
Dean just grunted. Smirked. “As a bitch in heat.”
Sam’s face split with a grin. He pushed his hips forward and slowly his cock slipped into Dean. Got sucked into a warm, tight grip.
He adjusted his position, laid down on Dean’s back, matching Dean’s frame. Their fingers entwined and Sam began to roll his hips. Push in and pull out. Dean had tilted his hips, rocking just slightly in rhythm to meet him, his thighs spread wide to give Sam room.
As they moved, the low smack of skin against skin mingled with their breathless moans. With time Sam felt his back grow hot where the sun shone on it and Dean shifting beneath him. Getting restless. He knew what was going to happen next and let go of Dean’s hands. Hugged Dean’s sides instead, holding on tight as Dean pushed them up on all fours.
“Sammy,” Dean said and Sam shifted his weight until it rested on his knees. Dean grabbed onto the headrest, while Sam held onto Dean’s side. His fingers sat snugly in the grooves formed by Dean’s obliques and got stretched wide with every breath Dean took. One hand though, he placed between Dean’s shoulders blades. Amazed by how tiny they made it look. He pressed in, used it to support himself as he started to fuck hard into Dean, and Dean’s bowed back didn’t even budge. Dean just held up his weight like it was nothing and Sam felt himself get close to the edge.
But not yet. Not yet. He stopped the pump of his hip. Took a deep breath.
“Dean,” he said. Couldn’t have said more if he wanted to, but Dean didn’t need more than one word from him either. Smiling, Dean glanced over his shoulder, nodded and Sam pulled out. Leant back to give Dean the space he needed to roll onto his back.
He didn’t even wait until the squeak of the mattress had subsided before he grabbed Dean around his thighs and pushed up. Folded him nearly in half as he surged down to capture Dean’s lips. To swallow the rumbling laugh.
With ease, Sam’s dick slotted back into Dean. Back into the heat. He leant back slightly. Kissed a trail up the inside of Dean’s thigh. Bit into the taut muscle of his calf. The faint hair there tickled his lips and he nipped it. Tugged at it slightly and watched from the corner of his eyes how Dean’s eyes squeezed shut. How his teeth gnawed on his lower lip and the flush in his cheeks deepened.
Sam kissed the spot he just nipped then straightened back up. He kept fucking into Dean, but slowly the strain on his shoulders got too much. Dean had thirty pounds on him and he wasn’t the most bendy person. So he called out his brother’s name again and Dean knew. His hands came up and dug into his thighs, pulled them closer to his chest lifting most of the weight of Sam.
It allowed Sam to lean in closer and still keep up the rhythm. Bury his face in the crook of Dean’s neck while he buried his dick as deep inside Dean as he could. He feelt the rasp of stubble against his own smooth cheek, and exploded. Filled Dean up with all he got. Pulled his head back then, just in time, to watch Dean come too. Watch Dean come with his lip between his teeth and his chin tucked to his chest. And, damn god, with his knees by his head, bulging thighs framing the bliss on his face.
Cum shooting in hot spurts between their bellies, Dean gasped his name. Pushed it past his sucked in lip. Not Sammy, though, but, “Sam.”
And Sam thought his heart might burst as the aftershocks wrecked him. He held onto his brother like his life depended on it. Said his name over and over again until he didn’t even have any breath left for that.
Dean helped him pull out and Sam curled up in his arms. Dean’s hold was tight and warm as he rested his head on Dean’s chest. Smiled at the golden amulet.
Later when they were back downstairs, just hanging out, watching TV, and Sam sat with his back against Dean’s chest, Sam remembered something.
"You know that guy from the library?" He asked. "You saw him a few days ago."
"The one with the stick up his ass?"
Sam nodded. "He came up to me again, today. Told me, if I ever get picked up again, I should tell my brother to wait outside. Apparently you scare some of their more sensitive customers."
Dean huffed a breath. "And what did you say?"
"I said you're not my brother." Dean’s arms tightened around him and Sam turned to look up at Dean before he could say something. "I told him you're my boyfriend."
The frown on Dean's face smoothed into a smile. "Wish I'd seen his face."
"Yeah," Sam said. "But that wasn't all. He suddenly got like all... curious, you know? Asked me what it's like to take it up the ass.
Dean's eyebrows traveled to his hairline. "What did you say?"
Shrugging, Sam lent back against Dean's chest. "Told him he'd have to ask you." He grinned. "You should have seen that face."
Dean burst out laughing. "Awesome," he said. Placed a kiss into the crook behind his ear. "Man..." he said but trailed off, growing solemn. Then he said, "Hey, uh… Sam,” and Sam frowned. Turned and looked up at his brother.
Dean curled a hand around his neck, pulled him in for a kiss. Then closed his eyes and spoke against his lips. “Don’t ever change, man.”
He smiled and hugged his brother. Pressed his face into his shoulders. “You too, Dean. You too.”