Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6373234.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-12-27 Words: 2973
****** All You'd Ever Want ******
by lavishsqualor
Summary
     It wasn't Dean's fault that they were snowed in. He'd even arranged
     things so that they'd be together, and alone, over the holiday.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
"Fuck this, Dean."
"What, Sammy? It's not a big deal."
Sam looked out the open door of the cabin, but all he could see was a wall of
snow as high as his chest and more coming down still. He slammed the old wooden
door shut. "Not a big deal?" he said. "This was supposed to be our first
Christmas toge–"
Dean raised an eyebrow, questioning, but Sam knew it was too late. Dean had to
know damn well what he was going to say.
It was childish, getting angry about something that was so beyond their
control, Sam knew that. He couldn't help it though, so he made his way to the
lone bedroom, trying not to stomp, trying not to act like a little kid no
matter how pissed off he was. It wasn't Dean's fault that they were snowed in.
He'd even arranged things so that they'd be together, and alone, over the
holiday.
Sam just couldn't stand it when things were ruined by the weather. It'd been a
long time since he'd been so angry, too, since he'd felt so hopeless and out of
control and unable to reign in his anger.
He flopped down on the double bed and rolled onto his side, pulled the quilt up
over his shoulders, and settled in to mope.
 
 
Things had been rough for a while, but for the past half year or so, life had
been good. They'd been together on the road, all three of them, Dean, Dad, and
Sam, and Arizona had been left behind.
The one good thing that had come out of that place was how things had changed
between Dean and Sam. Sam knew that he'd always meant more than anything, more
than life to Dean, but Dean hadn’t always been the best at showing that. Yeah,
he'd be the first to drop to the ground when Sam skinned his knee, blowing on a
scrape and kissing it better; he'd always shared the last of the Lucky Charms;
he'd taken the time to teach Sam everything about life, everything about how to
live that was worth knowing; and he'd always made certain that holidays like
Christmas and Sam's birthday were celebrated, even if Dad was too busy to
notice.
But those were kid things.
Sam hadn't realized it right away, but things had gotten weird between them at
some point along the way. Dean wasn't as affectionate, not as easy to share a
touch, not as loose with his words. Sam figured it was just some teenage angst,
some change that occurred in Dean that made it uncool to show his feelings.
Maybe that had been it. But maybe the timing had been more related to Sam's
pubescence.
Whatever it was, it was over. Sam was sixteen, now, and Dean was nearing
twenty-one fast. And when Sam had been pushed too far by that bully in Wilcox,
Arizona, when he'd admitted to Dean that they'd gotten to him, that they
actually were right about him liking guys, Dean had been there for him. He
hadn't shied away, hadn't freaked out or hassled Sam for it; he'd understood.
Completely, in fact. It was like they weren't lying anymore, not to each other,
at least.
And the progression from there had been the most natural and normal thing Sam
had ever felt.
When they'd woken that morning in the desert after taking off out of Wilcox,
Sam balled up and leaning into Dean, Dean curled around him, the kiss Sam had
felt on his forehead the night before was mimicked. This time on the mouth.
Tender, just a soft, dry touch of Dean's lips, and that was it. But it was more
than enough, and it said everything.
Things hadn't been the same since.
 
 
"What's this?" Sam asked as soon as he walked out from the bedroom, bare feet
dragging over the smooth hardwood floor.
"It's Christmas," Dean said.
Sam shook his head, but he took in the room, all Dean had done while he'd been
asleep, or, you know, faking sleep. "Where'd you even?"
There were swags of pine on the window, over the fireplace, and the top of a
tree was propped in the corner; Sam could smell the crisp evergreen. Though it
was already getting dark, he was pretty sure he could see a string of popcorn
wrapped haphazardly around the tree as well. A few lit candles were stuck along
the windowsill, a couple on the mantle, and two more on the side table tucked
up against the couch.
The wood that was burning in the fireplace was smoking something pretty fierce,
it had to have been damp, but it was perfect. Everything was perfect.
A huge smile pretty much overtook Sam's face.
From his seat in the middle of the couch, Dean said, "Now quit moping and get
your scrawny ass over here," but he was smiling too.
Sam's step was almost a hop-skip because of his giddiness over Christmas, over
what Dean had done. He plopped onto the couch next to Dean, almost in his lap,
laughs bubbling out all around.
Dean tugged Sam in closer, wrapping an arm around him. "So, Sammy, what was it
that you wanted for Christmas again? I can't quite remember."
Sam sat up, right in Dean's face, and kissed him square on the lips. "Come on,
Dean," he said. "As if you could forget."
Dean's smile turned sly, knowing. Of course he didn't forget; Sam had been
hassling him for ages for only one thing. Once they'd started, well, whatever
it was that they'd started, things had progressed fast, but Dean was holding
out on Sam, and Sam had been begging Dean for sex for months. He was ready for
it.
"So you're finally going to fuck me?" Sam said.
"No," Dean said. "That's not how it's going to be."
Sam balked. "But Dean–"
Dean cut him off. "No. Because you're going to fuck me."
Silence, except for a crackle-snap from the fireplace, and Sam's eyes grew huge
and dark. It wasn't what he'd been expecting, wasn't what he thought he’d been
wanting, but god, if that was how Dean was going to let it happen, he could
definitely make it work.
Sam all but jumped Dean, grabbed him bodily and threw him down on to the floor,
throwing a leg over and straddling Dean. So fast, Dean's face showed his
surprise, but when Sam ground his hips into Dean, Dean smiled, sort of shy, and
chewed down on his lower lip.
"Come on, Sammy," Dean said. "Get me ready for you."
Holy fuck, yes, Sam could do that.
Sam twisted his fingers in the hem of his own shirt, already fumbling, too
excited, but managed to lift it up and over his head. The next second, he had
his hands on Dean, sliding his palms up under Dean's shirt, needing to get to
skin. He felt a small shiver run through Dean as he slid Dean's shirt up to
reveal his chest, his nipples, dark brown and slightly flushed. Sam zoned in on
them, one little peak between each thumb and forefinger, tugging until they
were rock hard and tender, until Dean moaned loud. Sam scraped his hands down
Dean's chest and over his stomach, hard but still the perfect amount of soft,
warm under his fingers. He fumbled with Dean's buttons, his damn button fly,
such a piss poor choice of pants for today, but got the first and popped the
rest open fast.
Dean was hard, already, that much was apparent, obvious by the hard, fat line
in his boxer briefs. Sam got his hand on Dean's dick and squeezed, hard, just
that side of too painful, just the way Dean liked it. He didn't want to let go,
couldn't, kept tugging as he pulled Dean's jeans down with his other hand, and
then his underwear.
Dean said to get him ready, and Sam knew how he'd want to be gotten ready—ever
since he and Dean had started messing around, when he could find a spare moment
on a semi-private computer, like one in a library that had a screen that wasn't
exposed to the whole place and that lacked a net nanny, he'd done a little
researching. He'd just do the same for Dean.
Sam leaned down and licked a stripe up Dean's dick, and back down, licked down
the seam of his tight sack and then lower, until he was nosing at Dean's balls,
tonguing his taint. As he got lower, closer, he pushed Dean's legs up higher,
palming Dean's thighs up and over his shoulders to keep them back.
Dean squeaked, literally squeaked, and Sam imagined that it was because he felt
so exposed. Sam didn’t let up with his tongue, though, just snaked it down
until he got to Dean's hole, flicking and teasing at the rim. Another squeak-
like sound from Dean, and then a moan, as Sam breeched him, tongue firm,
exploring.
He pulled away, could barely make himself, but he just had to look. Dean's eyes
were fluttering, near closed, and his mouth was open a little, in that way he
got when he was feeling overwhelmed, almost overcome. He looked absolutely
amazing, like he was already breaking apart, like everything Sam had ever
wanted.
Sam bent back down to lick at Dean again, spitting a little to get things real
nice and wet. He loved it, absolutely loved making Dean squirm on his tongue.
Later, Sam thought, he wanted to spend some serious time doing just that.
Hours, maybe.
Now, he needed to get things going, though, so he brought a hand down from
Dean's leg and slowly, gently pushed his forefinger in alongside his tongue. It
was tight, so tight, and warm. Dean's insides clamped down around him,
squeezing tighter against the invasion, but Sam kept pushing, millimeter by
millimeter, until he had his finger in to the second knuckle.
He wiggled his finger against the force bearing against it, and Dean said,
"Nngh."
Sam pulled back to say, "Yeah, Dean? How's that?"
"More, Sammy." Dean breathed out, a huff of air so strong Sam felt it blow
against his face. "Give me more."
"Yeah," Sam said. "Yeah. Can do that."
He leaned down to spit at Dean again, pulled his finger out to lick at it and
the next, tasting Dean and loving it. Two fingers, now, pushing in slow. There
wasn’t any more room left for his tongue, but he licked around the edge, the
taste the headiest thing he'd ever had. It was fucking addictive.
He pushed in farther, deeper, until Dean was moaning, until he was wriggling on
Sam's fingers, pushing back at him, using his body to ask for more, begging in
a way he couldn’t with words.
Sam could give him more. He inched his fingers out, then fucked his fingers
back in. Did it again. And again.
"Yeah," Dean said. "Come on."
Sam didn't hesitate at all, pulled out completely, and added a third finger,
twisting deep, hard, quick. "Fuck," he said.
Dean said, "Fuck yeah," and brought his hands up from where they had been
grappling at the thin carpet strewn over the floor in front of the hearth to
hold his legs up, to spread them even wider. "Give it to me, Sam. Come on." Sam
fucked in harder, and faster, and felt the sweat that was slowly collecting on
his back drip into a line to match that making its way down the center of
Dean's chest.
"No, no more." Dean panted, near breathless, then said, "Come on and get your
dick in me."
Sam said, "'Kay. Yeah, okay," and scrambled at his buckle. Without taking his
hand away, without even slowing his pace, he popped the button on his jeans and
pulled his zipper down, yanked his pants and boxers down his thighs in one
sweep. He gripped his cock tight in his hand and trailed the head down the seam
of Dean's leg where his thigh met his groin.
Dean's breaths got louder yet, little puffs of air escaping his chest, and he
said, "Lube, Sam." Sam tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow, and Dean said,
"Couch."
Reluctantly, Sam pulled his fingers out of Dean, bringing a squelching noise
with them, and god, Sam wasn't sure how something so disgusting could be so hot
at the same time, causing his dick to twitch against his stomach as he crawled
the couple of feet towards the couch, reached into the crack between the two
oversized pillows. Separated by Dean by just a few feet, and Sam's bearings
came back to him. He took the time to stand and shook his hips to lose his
jeans, at the same time asked, "Condom?"
"Nah," Dean said, and Sam's dick jumped again. He gripped it at the base as he
fell to his knees, because goddamn, fucking Dean. With his other hand he popped
the cap on the tube of lube, splurged some down his length, and ran his hand up
then down to spread it out.
He kneeled in close, running his wet fingers up and down Dean’s crack, dipping
in to his heat. Dean arched against him and brought his legs back up, said,
"Sammy."
"Yeah, Dean," Sam said. And as he touched the tip of his cock to Dean's hole,
Dean all but growled, "Now."
Now. Sam could make that happen. He inched his hips forward and gripped Dean's
hips tight, pulling him in. "Oh fuck," he said, as the crown of his cock popped
forward into Dean, through his hole and into clutching warmth.
Dean dropped his head to the floor, eyes falling closed, and said, with effort,
"Keep going." So Sam did. He tried his damndest to keep it slow, steady, but as
he lowered his hands to the ground, one on either side of Dean, he pushed in
deep, to the hilt.
"Oh god, Dean."
"Hey," Dean said. Sam looked up, met Dean's eyes, just inches apart, and met
Dean's lips when Dean raised his head. Dean kissed him, soft but deep, gentle
but hungry, then bit down on Sam's lower lip as he pulled away. He smiled up at
Sam and said, "Ready for you, Sam. Want it."
And Sam knew now that that was exactly what he'd been wanting, waiting to hear.
He pulled back and out, slow as before, before plunging back in. "Fuck," Dean
said, but Sam couldn’t manage more than grunting Dean's name.
Sam had never, never imagined that this could feel so good. He'd given it
thought, yeah, and he knew he'd be blown away regardless, but the combination
of the tightness of Dean, of the heat and the wet, it was almost too much. Not
to mention the way Dean's body just seemed to want to keep him in, clenching so
impossibly tight along Sam's length as he withdrew.
On his next thrust in, Sam dropped his head, brought one arm around and under
Dean's shoulders to grasp at the back of his head, to thread his fingers
through the short, sweat-drenched hair there. He crooked his face into Dean's
neck, mouthed at his shoulder, the flexed-out muscles jumping under Dean's
skin, and lost all control of whatever was coming out of his mouth. "Oh god,
Dean," he muttered. "Oh god. It's so much. Too much."
Sam reached a hand down, raised his hips just enough to tuck it between them,
and grabbed for Dean's dick. "Sammy, no," Dean said. "Just you. Just want to
feel you."
Dean let go, dropping his head back down to the floor again, and Sam completely
gave up trying to hold himself together. He pounded into Dean, fucking him
deep, fucking him hard and fast. And then harder. And as Dean said, "Yeah, Sam.
Yeah, give it to me," he fucked him even faster.
It was too fast, and it was too much. Dean said, "Gonna– Sam, I'm gonna–" and
Sam bit down on Dean's pulse point just as he felt Dean's dick begin to shoot.
Wet, warm come leaked out as Dean's body shuddered, as his ass got inexplicably
tighter, clenching and clenching, until Sam couldn't hold back, until he had to
let go.
It had been building since this started, since he first got his mouth on Dean,
a shiver-tingle, and when his orgasm hit, his whole body stuttered through it.
Sam rode it out, his cock sluicing through come, through his own warmth stuffed
up into Dean's heat, and then came down to Dean's sex-stupid whispering in his
ear, "Yeah, baby. Love it." Dean rubbed his hands down Sam's back, soft through
the sweat-sheen, and said, "Love you when you come."
"No, you," Sam said, and he realized that he wasn't making any sense. He rolled
off Dean and onto his side, back towards the fire.
Now, as he watched Dean, caught up in the comedown, he could finally appreciate
the light of the fire; shades of warmth played across Dean's face, lighting up
his features, his freckles popping out sharp. "Dean," he said, and he ran his
fingers along Dean's cheekbone, down his jaw.
Dean reached up and grabbed Sam's hand in his. "Merry Christmas, Sammy."
"I'm so sorry, Dean. That was stupid, before." Sam squeezed back, though,
smiled and shifted his eyes down and away. "Can't believe I acted like such a
little kid."
"Hey," Dean said. He nudged Sam's chin, made him look up. "Doesn't even matter.
Just forget about it." Weaving their fingers together, he said, "Don't you know
I would do anything to take care of you?"
It wasn't just holidays that Dean took care of, either. He'd always had Sam's
best interests in mind, and he'd always been there for Sam.
"I do, Dean," Sam said. "I do."
End Notes
     written for SPN_J2_Xmas Exchange 2012
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