For helosthisshoe

[winchester_lost]

It had seemed like the perfect night to go out. Sam was off at Bobby's, trying to find a lead in the case they were working. When they'd talked earlier that afternoon, they were hitting a brick wall and Sam had sai he probably wouldn't be back until sometime tomorrow. He'd worked their one last lead and hadn't come up with anything they didn't

Comments

[helosthisshoe]

Bobby had insisted he get back to Dean, just in case he got himself into trouble. They had an idea of what they were hunting now and Bobby knew where to look to find out how to kill it... said he'd call with the details as soon as they came up. But honestly, Sam hadn't intended to find this when he stepped in the door, his bag tossed carelessly over his shoulder.

He paused, squinting at the display like maybe he didn't believe it... thought it'd disappear or something. Maybe he really needed some sleep and his brain was playing tricks--

Except it wasn't disappearing.

Dean was still dressed up in a skirt and stockings like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Uh-"

He looked around the room before he took a step in to put his bag down int he closest chair, shutting the door behind him. He needed a moment to just... let this sink in a little further. "So, do I even want to ask or what, Dean?"

[winchester_lost]

"I, uh... I was going out."

Dean stated the obvious, his eyes wide, nothing coming into his brain on how to get out of this. The obvious response was to bolt for the bathroom, get changed and to pretend like this had never happened. Except his legs weren't moving, he was still standing there, standing at Sam, his lips slightly parted, but unable to find something sensible to say. Because he didn't have any excuses. He'd been so good at hiding this, and now he was standing here in a skirt that was almost indecent and stockings that showed off just a flash of thigh beneath the hem.

He licked his lips, shrugged his shoulders, looking trapped and like he really, really didn't know how to deal with this situation. He swallowed, shifted and scuffed the toe of one boot against the carpet as if he could make it devour him. No such luck.

"Weren't ever supposed to know."

[helosthisshoe]

"How, uh... how long have you been doing this?" He wasn't sure what else to say or ask. Dean had that look like any second he'd bolt or, one wrong word, and he might be throwing punches.

Sam wasn't in the mood to nurse any bruises tonight. He tilted his head, eyes raking up his brother's legs and rested at the little bit of bare thigh he could look.

"... What do you have on underneath?" He had to be crazy to actually be curious, to feel a flash of heat go through him at just the thought, but God... he couldn't help the curiosity.

[winchester_lost]

"A few years," Dean answered with a shrug of his shoulders. There was a certain edge to his voice, something that hinted that when Dean said a few, he meant more than two or three, and more like in the range of double digits. He was faintly flushed; he never blushed, really, but caught in a miniskirt and stockings was far enough outside of Dean's comfort zone to fray just enough of that constant, cool self-assurance. His hands were curled at his sides, not quite in fists, but defensive

[helosthisshoe]

All of this would really sink in later, once they were being fueled less by pent up desire and lust. No way would Sam not be freaked out thinking he'd been buried balls deep in his own brother, that he heard him nearly say something that couldn't be taken back... that Sam didn't want taken back.

But right now, all he could think about was Dean. Dean's body against his, the way he moved and the way he felt wrapped around him. He moaned deeply against the other as Dean clung to him, pumping his hand over his brother until he was sure he was spent, grinding his hips up against him as he rode out his own end. "God-- fuck... Dean--"

[winchester_lost]

It was hot and blissful and fuck, but Dean was ninety-percent sure that was the best orgasm he'd had in recent memory. The fact that it was Sammy that was buried inside of him, Sammy that was filling him with hot fluid, and he whined, murmured, face pressed into his neck, mouthing distracted kisses against skin. His arms wrapped tight around his brother's shoulders, trembling as pleasure shook through him.

He's trying not to think about what he almost said, what he has said, admittance that he wants him, wants this, wants more than this, wants it over again. He holds onto Sam so hard his knuckles are white, because distantly he knows that if he lets the moment slip away, he'll be all stiff-jawed denial, refuse to admit to what happened because he doesn't know how to deal with it. He doesn't know how to cope with how he feels, what he wants.

"Oh, Sammy..."

[helosthisshoe]

Sam's arms came around Dean and just... held on, tight. Dean was doing the same, could feel how hard he was holding on. He didn't want this to end, didn't want to go back to pretending... God, he didn't know if he could just go back. Dean might be able to slip into denial, pretend they hadn't just fucked each other senseless, but Sam wasn't so convinced.

Not when he'd wanted this for so long. He straightened up a little though, let his lips press lightly to Dean's. It was different from the lust-driven ones earlier, softer and more searching. Pleading maybe.

If Dean pulled away, if he tried to push this away, Sam didn't know what he'd do. So he was going to try his damnedest to hold on to this moment, to draw it out. "God, Dean... that was--"

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Felt so good..."

[winchester_lost]

Dean leaned in, could feel how Sammy was holding on too, the both of them trying to clutch at this little moment of safety, where it was still okay. Dean just didn't know if he could face this. Could face being in a skirt and stockings and lip gloss, could face how he'd ridden his brother like he needed him. Because he did, fucked up as it was. He Loved him. Capital L, stupid romance movie bullshit. Sammy meant so much to him, and he just didn't know if he could talk about this by the light of day.

And so he kissed him back, soft and sweet, a low murmur of breath, a flutter of long eyelashes as he leaned into him. There was little that he didn't want to give Sammy, and he couldn't help wanting to kiss him back. A hand reaching up and sliding through Sammy's hair, a murmur on his lips that he breathed into the kiss.

"Mm, Sammy... Feel so good like that."

There was part of him that wanted more, wanted to feel him again, wanted him buried inside of him. Because it was Sammy and he just couldn't get enough.