Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8338177.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Weecest, Underage_Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Underage_Sam, Spanking,
      Pining_Sam, Mutual_Pining
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-10-21 Words: 1947
****** I Hate You (Except I Really Don't) ******
by theywere-neverhomeless_(notyourdadsaugspecialist)
Summary
     Dean’s sitting in his room on his bed and he’s fucking smiling at
     Sam, gentle and Sam fucking hates him for the way his heart pounds in
     his chest at the affection there.
     “Take off your pants and bend over, Sammy,” Dean says in that same
     mild tone from earlier, and Sam’s heart stops for a sickening instant
     before thudding into double time.
     “You’re joking.”
“The rules were very clear, Sam,” Dean says firmly, and Sam can’t stand the
tone of disappointment in his brother’s voice. It pisses him off just as much
as it upsets him.
“You were gone for weeks, both of you were! What was I supposed to do?” Sam
bites his lip, cursing himself for letting the desperation he’s feeling sink
into his tone.
“You’re very resourceful. You could have found a way to make it to school
without hotwiring a car. Take the friggin’ bus like normal people do,” Dean
says, crossing his arms, and Sam blinks back hot tears. He will  not  cry in
front of Dean, dammit. He  will not.  “ Dude, don’t give me a dirty look. It’s
not my fault you got busted. Dad’s mad enough that I came back to bail you out.
He was gonna leave you in juvie.”
Sam looks away,  pout  written all over his face. It’s been almost a month
since the last time he saw Dean, and he’s missed his big brother more than he
cares to admit. Probably a bit more than necessary. He’s fifteen now, and he’s
chalked up his decidedly unbrotherly attraction to his older brother as nothing
more than raging teenage hormones. But the way his heart twists in his chest at
Dean’s disappointment in him… Sam’s walking a fine line of denial, and he’d be
perfectly happy to never find out what’s on the other side.
“Nobody asked you to come in and save me, Dean,” Sam snaps, sneering at his
older brother, and he knows it’s a mistake the moment he says it but it’s too
late to stop now, so he barges on full steam ahead. “I’m not a fucking child, I
can handle my own damn self, you and Dad saw to that a long time ago, so you
can go now. We both know you’d rather be with Dad.”
Maybe Sam’s itching for a fight. Maybe he wants Dean to get angry with him, to
yell at him, because at least it means that he’s actually paying attention.
Dean doesn’t do any of these things. He fucking  smiles . It’s sharp and
glittery, like the edge of a knife, and it does funny things to Sam’s insides.
“You sure got a dirty mouth since I’ve been gone, Sammy,” Dean says mildly as
he walks over to Sam’s bed from his place in the hallway. He turns and crooks
his finger at Sam, who follows despite himself. Dean sits on the edge of the
bed, beckoning Sam closer still, and Sam obeys with his arms folded across his
chest in a symbol of defiance.
Dean’s sitting in his room on his bed and he’s fucking smiling at Sam, gentle
and Sam fucking hates him for the way his heart pounds in his chest at the
affection there.
“Take off your pants and bend over, Sammy,” Dean says in that same mild tone
from earlier, and Sam’s heart stops for a sickening instant before thudding
into double time.
“You’re joking.”
The smile slips from Dean’s face to house a serious, firm expression, and he
pats his knee in a way that leaves no room for doubt. This is an order.
“I’m  fifteen , you ass,” Sam says incredulously, still unmoving. “You can’t
spank me like I’m a fucking kid.” His face is flushing with embarrassment, and
maybe something else, too. The last time Dean spanked him, he was nine, and he
had stolen a candy bar from the convenience store.
“Act like a kid, get treated like one,” Dean retorts, patting his knee a little
more sharply to show his impatience. “Now do as I say, or I won’t go easy on
you. And you’ll be in for worse when Dad gets home.”
Cheeks burning, Sam bites down his scathing comeback and angrily pulls his belt
out of his pants, eyes defiant on Dean’s face. The belt makes a satisfying
clatter on the floor, and he watches Dean’s carefully masked expression as he
unzips his pants and shoves them to the floor. He watches as Dean’s tongue
darts out to moisten his lips, careful gaze tracking the movement, and Sam
hates himself for the wash of arousal that spreads through him at the little
gesture. He bites his lip as he steps forward, and yelps when Dean’s hand
closes around his wrist and pulls him onto his lap.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Dean murmurs, hand mapping the expanse of
flesh that he intends to swat, and Sam isn’t prepared for the way his brother’s
touch makes him feel. The last time Dean did this, Sam was nine, but he’s not
nine anymore, and he bites on his lip to distract himself from the way his cock
is filling out in his boxers.
“Just do it,” Sam grits out, fisting a hand in the denim of Dean’s pants leg,
and he spreads his legs just enough to feel more balanced, and then Dean’s
spanking him, and he doesn’t have the presence of mind to think of anything
else.
The first swat stings, like little fiery pinpricks on his ass and he can feel
his eyes begin to fill with tears. But he doesn’t want to give Dean the
satisfaction, so he bites down on his lip. Sam can’t help the little startled
noise that bursts from his lips at the second swat, on the other cheek, but he
just grips Dean’s pantleg tighter and ignores the single tear that’s escaped
and tracked down his face.
The third one lands on the meat between Sam’s ass and his thigh, and it has
this garbled keening noise tearing from Sam because it feels  good  and it
shouldn’t feel good, and now he’s getting hard, but he doesn’t have time to
think about that because the next strike lands in the same place on his other
leg, and this time Sam  moans .  He can hear Dean’s breath hitch, and Sam’s
terrified. Any moment now, Dean’s going to dump him off his lap and call him a
freak and storm out. But he doesn’t.
“D’ya like that, little brother?” Dean says, voice rough and low and Sam thinks
he’s probably never heard anything more erotic in his life. The fifth swat
comes then, and Sam cries out a “ yes ” that would have him too embarrassed to
speak if he weren’t so focused on the way Dean feels beneath him, above him,
around him. They’re on Sam’s bed, but all he can smell is leather and
aftershave, and when the next swat hits, he’s grinding into Dean’s leg, and
he’s pretty sure he just heard Dean  groan .
“ Dean ,” Sam shouts on the next impact, voice raw and needy, and he’s not sure
how it happened but suddenly he’s upright with his thighs bracketing Dean’s,
and they’re trading breaths, almost kissing.
“Sammy,” Dean whispers against Sam’s cheek, and the way it sounds like a
goddamn prayer has Sam moaning. “Let me kiss you, little brother. Wanna taste
you-”
Sam presses his hands to either side of Dean’s face and he’s slotting their
mouths together, tongue lapping at his brother’s lower lip like he sees in the
movies. Dean chuckles, and the sound has no right being as sinful as it is, but
Sam shivers anyway, licking into his brother’s mouth as Dean parts his lips
obligingly.
Dean’s hands are on his hips, grinding their crotches together, and Sam keens
into Dean’s mouth at the feeling of his cock scraping against his brother’s
denim-trapped erection.
“So fuckin’ beautiful, Sammy, you moan so pretty for me. God, I wanna touch
you, can I? Sammy, can I touch you? I’ll make you feel so good, I promise,”
Dean’s begging, and Sam just whimpers, nodding open-mouthed into the kiss as
Dean cups the curve of Sam’s ass with calloused fingers. Sam rocks back into
it, and Dean presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then another at his
chin, and another and another down his jawline until he’s pulling Sam’s earlobe
into his mouth. Sam lets out a needy moan, head thrown back as Dean maps every
inch of his skin, big hands grabbing and caressing and touching, and when
Dean’s hand dips under Sam’s boxers to grab hold of his erection, Sam feels the
breath leave his lungs in a whoosh as the world tilts on its axis. Dean seems
to sense Sam’s impending orgasm, because he clamps a firm grip around the base
of Sam’s cock, and after a few painstaking moments, Sam gulps in another breath
and pushes forward into Dean’s hand.
“I gotcha, little brother,” Dean murmurs against Sam’s neck, and the reminder
that they’re brothers shouldn’t be so fucking hot but it  is , and he whimpers
as Dean’s rough thumb presses against the slit of his cock.
“ Dean, ” Sam groans, and Dean begins to pump him slowly. Sam’s no stranger to
masturbation, and he’s even let a girl give him a handjob under the bleachers
during a football game once, but there’s really no comparison to the masterful
way Dean works his little brother’s cock. His movements are slow, purposeful,
and sure, and the knowledge that Dean must have done this before has jealousy
burning in Sam’s gut but it feels too fucking good. Every stroke has Sam
heading toward orgasm, and Dean’s drinking in every moan like he needs it to
survive. He speeds up when Sam’s hips start to thrust forward in abortive
searches for more, and Sam’s moaning takes on a more desperate pitch. Dean’s
sucking on Sammy’s lower lip, worrying it between his teeth as he works him
over, and when Sam meets his eyes, he’s greeted with black, dark and hungry,
and he lets out a sharp whine.
“ Dean, ” he moans urgently, breath coming in sharp pants, and Dean groans
beneath him.
“You gonna come for me, little bro? Yeah?” Dean pumps him faster. “Yeah, Sammy.
Come for me, baby.”
Sam’s eyes snap wide open and he’s coming and coming and coming with a sharp
cry, eyes locked onto Dean’s. Dean is helpless to look away as his brother
falls apart in his lap, quaking and trembling and moaning as he comes all over
Dean’s fist.
Their foreheads rest together as Sam catches his breath, though Dean seems
almost as winded as he is, and when he comes back to earth, his face melts into
a lazy grin that Dean can’t help but return.
When Sam shifts his hips, he feels that Dean is still hard beneath him, but
Dean just lifts up and kisses him.
“Do you want-” Sam starts, but Dean interrupts hastily.
“-don’t have to-”
They both stop sheepishly, and Sam laughs. Dean says, “Shut up, Sammy,” but
there’s no bite to it, and a moment later, he’s laughing as well. The laughter
dies away, and Sam’s expression turns serious. Dean recognizes the desire
darkening his brother’s eyes and it has his cock twitching in excitement.
“Dean, I wanna watch you. Can I?” The question is laced with so much tentative
hope and doubt, and Dean kisses Sam in way of answer.
“Get off me, and I’ll give you a show, Sammy-boy,” Dean says with a grin that
has Sam rolling his eyes affectionately, but he obliges and helps Dean with his
pants.
When they’re through, they take a shower together, and spend the rest of the
weekend touching each other as much as possible, which always devolves into
handjobs. When Sam offers to suck Dean’s dick, he nearly comes on the spot.

Neither of them are sure how their new dynamic is going to affect things, but
they want to figure it out. Together.
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