Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1966395.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Sam_Winchester/Dean_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester, John_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Underage_Drinking, Consensual_Sex, Wincest_-_Freeform,
      Masturbation, Weecest
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-16 Words: 6131
****** While Dad's Away ******
by sophies_choice
Summary
     John leaves Sam and Dean for a hunt. Sam should be doing his homework
     and Dean should be helping. Neither gets accomplished, especially
     since Sam is easily distracted by his brother.
Notes
     Been wanting to write a teen!sam fic for a while... don't know if
     this scratches the itch
Sam is supposed to be doing his homework, instead he watches Dean clean his
guns across the room. It’s calculus and he really should be concentrating but
as soon as his brother plowed through the door, mouth set in a straight line
and eyes focused, homework was the last thing on his mind.
“Dean, help your brother with his homework,” John stomps in from the bathroom,
working the last few buttons on his shirt. “I’m heading out, can’t help him
myself.”
And Sam snorts, albeit quietly so his father doesn’t hear it because god knows
his father would never help him even if he had the time.
Dean looks up from his rifle. “Where are you going?” and drops the weapon,
frown spread across his mouth. Sam watches them interact. Most of the time they
act like he isn’t even in the room. At least when it comes to hunting. And
that’s all bullshit because he’s 16 and just as good as Dean, ok, maybe not
that good, but he’s still really good.
“Bobby said there’s a coven of witches just up north,” John answers and shoves
weapons and clothes and other important stuff into his worn duffle bag. He
doesn’t even bother to look at Sam. “I should be back in a couple days, week
tops. Take care of the kid,” he makes a small insignificant motion towards Sam
and it feels like a slap in the face.
The kid.
Dean on the other hand looks at him and he smiles reassuringly, like his
existence does matter to him. “Sure,” he winks at Sam and Sam feels his entire
body flush. “You sure we can’t help you?” he asks then and Sam turns his eyes
to his father who’s all packed and ready to leave them.
“No, Sam’s got finals and Bobby’s meeting me there anyway. We’ve got it
covered.”
Sam can see Dean’s shoulders deflate just a little and it makes him feel just a
bit guilty that he’s the reason Dean can’t go off on a hunt with his father. He
knows Dean wants to desperately.
John reaches into his pocket and tosses a small wad of bills on the table.
“That should be enough to last you, if not, there are a couple of cards in the
nightstand. Don’t use them unless you have to. Understand?”
They both nod. John looks at them one last time, like it may be the last time.
Hunters never know if they’ll come home after a job. So he takes a few steps to
Dean and gives him a rough hug, then moves to Sam and smashes their bodies
together. “Watch your brother, make sure he doesn’t go off and leave you
alone,” John mutters and slaps Sam’s back a few times before he pulls away.
“Yes, Sir,” Sam quirks a corner of his mouth and nods. He catches the strained
eye roll of his brother.
John bids them farewell one last time and slams the door behind him. Sam can
hear the loud roar of the truck and the squelch of dirt under the tires as his
father drives off.
“Well, looks like it’s you and me for the next few days,” Dean picks up the
rifle again. “Doing your homework? What you working on?” he asks, but Sam knows
he really doesn’t care, he’s just asking because Dad asked him too.
“Calculus,” Sam answers and sighs, leaning back against his worn chair. “Wanna
help?”
Dean glances in his direction and sets his gun down. “Sure,” he shrugs and
Sam's face breaks out into a huge smile. Dean never wants to help him, so it
feels awesome.
 
“Sammy, I don’t know what the fuck this means,” Dean resigns after ten minutes
and Sam laughs tugging the textbook from his confused brother’s hands.
“It’s fine,” he assures and twirls his pencil around his fingers like a
drummer. “You gotta be smart to understand this shit,” he grins slow and Dean
smacks the back of his head as he stands up and heads for his bed.
“You callin me dumb?” Dean flops down and turns on the television, making sure
its not too loud to distract Sam’s studies, but he’s already distracted, has
been since Dean walked through the door.
Sam slides his homework into his text book and sets it aside. It’s Friday, he’s
got the rest of the weekend to complete it.
"It's a good thing you’re pretty," Sam teases and makes his way to the other
bed, sinking in with a sigh.
"Yeah, you're calling me dumb, alright, " Dean mutters with a sigh but he's
smiling so he's not too offended.
Sam watches his brother glance at the stack of bills on the tv stand and he
already knows what he’s thinking.
“You hungry? I’m hungry,” Dean gets to his feet and plucks the money into his
hands. “Burgers?”
Sam nods. “Sure, fine with me.”
And Dean nods. “I’ll be back,” he swipes the keys to the impala and heads out
the door. “Get some homework done while I’m gone,” he instructs and Sam nods
again just before he watches his brother leave him.
He doesn’t know how long Dean will be gone but as soon as the door closes he
reaches over for the remote and starts flipping through the channels, there has
to be something good on.
 
Dean takes an hour before he comes back, but he’s got food and a bag full of
beer in his arms. Sam tears his eyes from the movie. “What took you so long?”
he sits up on the bed, just in time to get a lap full of greasy fast food.
Dean makes his way to the small fridge and starts stocking it with beer.
“Got caught up,” Dean mutters and pulls two bottles out. Dad doesn’t let Sam
drink, unless it’s after a hunt and he’s too exhausted to remember his youngest
son shouldn’t be drinking, but Dean, Dean lets him drink whenever they’re
alone. “Should’ve seen her, Sammy, legs for fucking days. Sweetest little
mouth," he grins and Sam rolls his eyes.
“Glad to know where your priorities are,” Sam mutters and pulls out two burgers
for himself and a large case of fries. He accepts the opened bottle his brother
offers and takes a long drink, making sure not to look at Dean or else show him
disappointment.
Dean grabs the rest of the food and spreads out on the other bed. “Sometimes
you make me wonder,” Dean smirks from his bed and unwraps a burger. “One of
these days I should take you with me. You’re growing up nice and big, Sammy,”
Dean glances over and Sam catches a dark heated twinge around Dean’s eyes, but
it’s only there for a second before he turns his eyes away.
Sam flushes under the soft glow of the night table lamp and takes a bite.
 
After several beers and greasy food in his stomach Sam is feeling good. Really
good and he glances over at Dean who’s mouth is sealed tight around his beer.
He watches him, the suck of his lips, the pull of his throat as he swallows
down another drink. Sam shifts over the bed and tries to look away because it’s
weird to watch Dean. He knows it’s weird, it’s his brother but sometimes, Sam
sighs, sometimes he can’t help it. The need is too strong. The pull is strung
tight around his belly and all he wants to do is watch Dean, everything he
does, sleep, eat, drive, everything. The way his fingers work his weapons, the
way he dresses in the morning, the way he smiles when he sees a pretty girl
walking down the street.
Sam knows it’s not normal, not the way he feels when he watches Dean because
when he does, his blood pumps heavy and strong under his skin. The tender slide
of Dean’s fingers on his gun is so obscene sometimes Sam can feel himself get
hard and he knows it’s wrong.
He just can’t help it.
And sometimes. Sometimes Sam thinks Dean does the same.
Watches him.
“Did you finish your homework?” Dean asks and Sam feels himself pull up from
his own thoughts. He shakes his head and Dean comes into focus, he’s not
looking in his direction but Dean is clearing talking to him.
Sam scrambles for a coherent response. “Yeah,” he finally says even if it’s a
lie. He hasn’t touched his homework since Dean left. “I’m good,” he lies again
and Dean glances over at him.
He’s making sure Sam isn’t lying but maybe the six beers have got to him enough
because he nods in satisfaction and extends his hand. “Remote,” he says and Sam
turns to him.
“No, I like this movie,” Sam clutches the remote and holds his position. “Come
on, it’s Tom Cruise and Missions Impossible.” Sam knows he’s had too much to
drink when he’s pulling for a short action hero who may or may not like the
company of men. He doesn’t care, Sam actually likes the movies.
Dean, on the other hand, doesn’t take to it as he crawls over his bed and
stumbles to Sam’s bed. “You fucking pansy, I told you, it’s either Swayze or
Willis,” he falls ungracefully onto Sam’s bed, “Didn’t I teach you anything?”
he slurs and Sam groans as his brother’s full weight slams into him.
Sam can feel his breath catch in his throat with the feeling of Dean’s body
pressed so intimately against his. “Come on, man,” Sam shifts and wraps his
arms around Dean’s arms shifting him off. Dean squirms and pushes off Sam’s
shoulders. His eyes are drunk and heated and Sam swallows. “Hey, you’re drunk,”
Sam mutters and Dean rolls away into the unoccupied part of Sam’s bed.
Sam watches Dean chest heave up and down with every breath, his eyes closed and
drunk and Sam breathes through his nose. Dean look so vulnerable, tired and
worn out and although Sam thinks it’s the worst time to touch him, there’s the
deep dark part of him that guides his hand down onto Dean’s chest.
His fingers spread and feel the solid body of his brother. Sam isn’t even aware
that he’s stroking Dean’s chest, up and down, up and down until he looks at
Dean’s face and finds his eyes open and blown out to the edge. Green almost
gone.
“Sammy,” Dean whispers and Sam jerks his hand away, but Dean is still looking
at him.
Sam feels his breath caught in his throat in horror. “I’m sorr-fuck, I’m sorry,
Dean,” he stutters but Dean doesn’t move away, the side of his body pressed
tight against Sam’s, the bed just big enough to hold the two of them. Dean
reaches up and slides a hand down Sam's neck.
“Sam,” he mutters so tiredly and Sam grabs his hand, curling his fingers around
his. “Why are you so fucking pretty?” Dean mumbles, his eyes fluttering and Sam
feels his entire body freeze and twitch.
“Dean,” Sam whispers heatedly and Dean’s eyes fly wide and open as he seems to
find energy that was lacking just a few seconds ago. “Come on, you’re wasted,”
he resigns himself and hauls Dean’s body up against his chest, holding him up
but soon Dean shifts under him and it catches Sam’s cock, hot and hard, so
hard.
“Sammy,” Dean slithers against his brother body and Sam knows Dean can feel it,
every single inch of it and he shudders. “You hard for me, Sam?” Dean asks and
surprisingly musters up enough energy to turn around in Sam’s embrace, his eyes
wide and dark, “or is Tom Cruise doing it for you, baby boy?" And soon he's
laughing, his whole body shaking as he rolls away.
Sam rolls his eyes and shoves his brother off the bed with one strong push. He
may be 16 but he isn't weak. "You're an idiot," he mumbles and reaches for his
beer. It's almost empty.
Dean hooks his arms over the top of the bed and pulls himself up with a
chuckle. "Come on, Sammy, I'm just messing with you," he waves his hand at him.
"Help me up," he asks and Sam ignores him, sending a kick in Dean's direction.
His brother dodges it and just laughs as he manages to climb back onto the bed,
sliding up against Sam. Sam shoves him again but Dean expects it and stays put.
"Dude, this is my bed, get off," Sam pushes but Dean is still stronger than him
even drunk and wraps his entire body around Sam, pinning his arms and legs
down. "Fuck, Dean, you jerk! Let me go!"
"Hey, calm down, Sammy," Dean laughs and flexes, tightening his hold just to
prove he's stronger, Sam squirms, trying not to get heated but Dean is all
around him, his body wrapped and pressed so close. He groans and tries to shake
him off again.
"Come on, Dean, give me a break," Sam groans and goes limp in his arms. Dean
turns his head around and looks into his brother's eyes. Dean's eyes glitter
under the soft light. He smiles after a bit and loosens his grip, uncurling
from Sam's body.
It gives Sam a chance to breath and move away, even if it's not much space.
"Want another beer?" Dean sits up and settles his back against the wall as he
reaches for the remote. Sam glances at him and shrugs.
Dean takes it as a yes and climbs off the bed to get more drinks.
Sam swipes the remote and shoves it in his pants, let's see if he wants it now.
The movie is almost over but he likes the end and wants to watch it anyway.
"I can't believe you like this crap," Dean walks back and hands over an opened
beer to Sam who doesn't bother to look at him. He sits back down, right beside
him, taking a long drink.
Sam can't help but glance over and watch him. God, what is wrong with him? And
he tears his eyes away.
Dean doesn't say anything else until the credits are rolling and he starts
looking for the remote.
Sam feels himself grin.
"Ok, my turn to watch something," Dean feels around the bed with no luck. After
a few more seconds he turns to Sam. "Where is it?"
Sam takes a long drink and pretends he has no idea what Dean is talking about.
"Come on, man, where did you put it?" Dean asks.
"It's gotta be here somewhere," Sam shrugs and holds his laugh in when Dean
searches again. "It's a marathon, wanna watch the next one anyway," Sam looks
over slyly.
Dean glares. "Fuck that, give me the remote." His hands do another sweep
without any results, clawing under the bed sheets and blankets. "Don't be an
asshole, Sam, I know you have it. Give it to me."
Sam simply takes another drink and keeps his eyes on the television. "Looks
like we're stuck watching this-" and suddenly Sam feels Dean's hands on him,
smoothing over his chest. He chokes on his drink and struggles to get up but
Dean's hands don't shy away. "What the fuck-"
Dean's up on his knees, searching over Sam's chest, under one armpit, feeling
around, sending a horrible tickle throughout his body. "I know you have it, you
little bitch," Dean growls, fucking growls and Sam jerks up into a sitting
position and scrambles away.
"Stop it, jerk!" Sam shouts and shoves at Dean's wandering hands. When he feels
Dean's fingers smooth down along his hip he gasps and shoves him away. "Hey,
watch it!" he yells.
Dean pounces suddenly and is straddling Sam's hips, his hands seeking around
the top of his jeans. Sam panics, Dean is on him, on top of him and he's
touching him like crazy and oh fuck.
Fuck, he knows he's getting hard all over again. So Sam shoves strong, knocking
his brother down.
"Get off!"
But Dean has always had quick reflexes and pops back up in a flash, his fingers
clawing at his jeans, smoothing down until Sam knows he feels it.
Dean grins, dark and predatory. "You kinky little bitch," Dean laughs and to
Sam's horror his hands dip under his jeans, scrounging around until his fingers
wrap around the remote and pull it free with a triumphant cry, just shy of
touching his hard cock, which Dean has managed to ignore.
Sam, so flushed and embarrassed shoves Dean off him and gets to his feet. He
stumbles into the bathroom and slams the door closed behind him. He's so
fucking hard again and his hand scrambles to undo his pants, reaches down and
pulls his cock out, wrapping his hand around it.
"Fuck," he whispers and pumps his fist in a quick jerk, shivering down to his
bones as his thumb smooths over the tender bundle of nerves under the head of
his cock. He can't do anything but think of his brother while he strokes
himself.
Sam comes to the memory of Dean's hands all over him, slouched over the sink as
he recovers from his orgasm.
He can hear Dean get another beer and looks in the mirror. His eyes are dark
and blown wide, his cheeks flushed and breath heavy as he tries to control the
pounding of his heart.
He turns on the sink and washes his hands, grabs a towel to clean himself up
and splashes water over his face. Sam tucks himself back into his jeans and
walks on shaky legs to the door.
He hopes desperately that Dean doesn't say anything when he opens the door and
walks back to his bed.
"You ok?" Dean asks as soon as Sam sinks onto his bed with a nod, he's on his
own bed as he flips through the channels. "Nothing's on," Dean mutters and
stops on an 80's horror movie, Sam thinks it's Friday the 13th but sometimes he
confuses it with Nightmare on Elm Street. Whatever it is, Dean seems
interested. "It's ok," Dean finally speaks after several minutes of silence
between them. "You know sometimes-"
Sam turns to him with a frown. "Stop talking," he pleads and Dean takes another
drink of his beer.
The room feels like it's spinning and Sam can't control it.
"Sam," Dean murmurs almost too quietly and it sends shock waves down Sam's
body, the low timbre of his voice, almost delicate. He struggles to control
himself.
Sam squeezes his eyes shut. "Please just, just shut up," he begs but soon the
mattress dips and Dean is right there, sitting next to him. Sam can feel his
body heat like a rush of fire on his skin. He groans and rolls onto his side,
wrapping his arms around his pillow. "Dean, fuck, leave me alone," he mutters
and keeps his eyes closed.
He just wants to sleep. If he sleeps he can pretend this night never happened
but soon he feels a hand on him. On his arm, smoothing down around his waist,
curling just below his t-shirt.
"Sammy," Dean whispers and slides his fingertips along Sam's stomach and Sam's
breath catches. Fuck, he can feel himself getting hard all over again, just
being so close to his brother and a soft whimper of regret pulls from his
mouth.
"Stop," Sam whispers and rolls onto his back, legs falling open, his cock
pressing against his jeans and so available for Dean to see. He wonders if Dean
will see it and there's that dirty, shameful part of him that hopes he will.
Hopes he touches him, all Sam wants is for Dean to touch him. He wants it so
badly.
"So hard," Dean whispers reverently and Sam looks into his eyes, so black and
blown out, the same look he thinks he catches every once in a while in his
brother's eyes. "Sammy, is that-" he breathes and Sam shifts against the bed,
so hard and uncomfortable, so open and there. Just there for Dean to see. "Is
that for me, Sammy?" Dean asks past a whisper and Sam almost crawls out of his
skin when he feels his brother's hand sliding past the crease of his hip,
fingertips stretching out and curling around the pulled denim of his crotch.
Dean is touching him, the heat of his palm flattening down his cock and Sam
lets a gasp trip past his lips, his eyes rolling back just for a moment as he
reels against the feel of his brother. Fuck, Dean is touching him, just the way
he does in Sam's fantasies.
"Fuck, Dean," Sam whispers pushing up under his brother's touch. He can feel
tears pushing intensely against the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry," he gasps
when Dean's fingers curl around the curve of his cock, teasing him. "Fuck,
please-"
And Dean snaps open his jeans and his fingers dip low, down as he lowers the
zipper and Sam groans when his brother's hand pulls out his hard cock, his
heart racing, his breath tugged out in sharp little gasps.
He's torn between embarrassment and pleasure. This is what he wants so badly,
but god, it's Dean, his older brother, and he's touching him. Working his hand
down and up and around his cock, pulling moans and needy noises from his mouth.
"I see you watching me, Sammy," Dean breathes out quietly, his face drawn into
concentration, mouth soft, so soft Sam wants to sit up and kiss him but the
fear of breaking this, these touches stops him. "You like this? Want-" Dean's
voice catches but his fingers still stroke, so elegantly up and down Sam's cock
he can't move. "Want this?" And Sam nods.
Nods so desperately a tear pushes past the corner of his eye and slides down
his cheek.
"Don't cry. Please don't do that, Sammy," Dean comforts and Sam rises, pushes
off the bed and presses his mouth to Dean's so wantonly, desperate to taste
him. So weak with need and want.
Dean groans and opens his mouth, allowing Sam to take the lead, sealing his
mouth so tight around Dean’s allowing his tongue to slide past Dean’s lips,
curl deliciously inside his, pulling him in, sucking so carefully it's
overwhelming and Sam feels Dean let go of his dick as he brings his hands to
his cheeks, sliding his fingers up into to hair to draw him closer.
Sam pulls Dean over him, spreading his legs to let him rest between, his cock
wet and hard between their bodies. Sam groans into his brother’s mouth as Dean
rolls his hips down and into him, hard against his body and he whimpers,
kissing him harder, fervently; he tastes like beer and dinner and Dean and so
fucking delicious, he wants more, so much more, can’t have enough.
"Fuck, Sammy," Dean pulls away slightly, just enough that his teeth catch Sam's
lower lip, his breath hot and sweet. "You feel so good," he pushes down again,
rutting carefully, and Sam hisses, Deans belt buckle catching his cock with a
shocking spark of pleasure. It's not enough, he wants more. So much more.
Sam slinks his hands down, sliding them past Dean's hips, curling them around
his ass and thrusting up quickly. "Dean, please," his voice drips of pleasure,
"please, need to feel you," he sears his request with a deep kiss, swallowing
Dean's breath, licking across the delicate crease of his mouth, sliding against
the roof of his tongue and Dean responds so pliantly.
"Oh fuck," Dean groans and opens his eyes wide. "Want to feel me? Is that-" he
caresses down into Sam's open mouth, licking the taste of his brother out.
"Fuck, is that what you want?" He rolls his hips down onto Sam's cock and Sam
cries out breathlessly.
"Yes, fuck, yes. Need," he gasps, "need you," he kisses him again, gentle,
sweet, so delicious, "want you," he thrusts up and his body trembles, "want you
so much, Dean. Please."
It's all Dean needs to hear before he pulls away and fumbles with his jeans,
pulling them down, using his feet to shuck off his pants and soon Sam feels the
heat of Dean’s cock pressed right against him. Hard, so hard and it’s almost
enough to make him come.
“Oh, god,” Sam groans and pushes up into his brother, their cocks sliding,
“fuck, Dean,” he feels his hips pushing, writhing against him and Dean’s
fingers curl around his jeans, tugging them off, kicking them off the bed, soon
his hands scramble up and tug at Sam’s shirt.
“Off,” he presses his lips against the corner of Sam’s mouth, licks down his
jaw and Sam whines, squirming and pulling his shirt up and over his head,
throwing it aside. He pulls at Dean’s shirt, jerking it up and off, Dean moving
away for just a second, enough time to get the cloth off and tossed to the
floor. As soon as he can his mouth sucks down on Sam’s pulse point and he licks
up against the skin, pulling the blood high and rough.
All Sam feels is Dean’s skin, so heated and warm and pressed so tight around
him, his thick cock sealed between their bellies rutting against his own and
it’s driving him crazy. Each thrust, each roll, each rough push of their bodies
makes the air in Sam’s lungs catch, making him dizzy, drunk with desire.
Dean, his brother, the only person in the world he has ever wanted so bad it
takes the air from his chest. He can touch him, runs his hands down Dean’s
back, fingertips sweeping the muscular skin, scraping along the lines of his
spine, digging in deep when Dean pushes down into him and rips out a groan so
loud he thinks the people next door may hear him,
Sam wants to come so badly he can feel the tears pressing at his eyes. “Dean, I
need to,” he moans.
But Dean looks at him and it’s dark and hungry. “Not yet, Sammy,” he grins,
smile spread slow and deliberate. “Want you to enjoy this,” he whispers,
licking the underside of Sam’s jaw, pressing teasing kisses down his neck.
“Dean,” Sam pushes up, trying for some relief against his brother but Dean
pulls up and away, sitting back on his haunches so Sam can see him, chest
glistening with sweat and so fucking gorgeous. Dean's cock curves up and when
he reaches down for it Dean slaps his hand away.
"No, Sam," he grins, devious with intent. “This isn’t about me,” he slides his
hands up and catches Sam’s wrists, locking them in his grip. Sam shudders so
painfully aroused.
“Dean,” he breathes and feels a drop of sweat slide down from his temple. Dean
sees it as he leans down and licks it up onto his tongue with a careful swipe.
It sends Sam bucking up helplessly against his brother.
“Calm down, Sammy,” Dean’s lips mouth along his neck, licking teasingly down;
mouthing at his collar bone; pulling up along a soft musky nipple until Dean
gives a hard, loud suck and Sam yelps. “Try and be quiet, Sam. Think you can do
that for me?”
And Sam bites at his mouth with a stuttered nod. He looks up at his brother who
looks so fucking gorgeous, heated and strumming with desire. Desire for him,
for Sam and god is that not the most amazing thing in the world.
“What do you want, Sam?” Dean loosens the hold around his wrists, so Sam can
touch him again, feel his brother’s hot, slick skin under his shaky palms.
“Tell me, what you want.”
And Sam thrusts against Dean’s body, sliding up so his weeping cock feels the
sweet friction, “I want,” he gasps as he moves again, and again, his breath
pulsing with little pleasured gasps, “please, can I have your mouth?” he groans
and opens his legs wider, feeling Dean’s body slide down just an inch, pulling
against his cock with a stirring shock of intense pleasure.
“You want me to suck your cock, Sammy?” Dean asks and Sam looks up and into his
brother’s eyes. He gives the slightest of nods. “Say it,” Dean’s voice drops
down so low Sam can feel it in his bones. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
“You. You’re mouth,” Sam breathes out with a gasp. “I want you to suck my cock,
Dean,” he asks and he knows he’s begging, begging like a little whore. Begging
for his brother to suck him off and make him come.
Dean looks down between their bodies and stares right at Sam’s dick and the
mere act of it pulls out a bead of precome from the tip of his cock, glistening
and waiting. “I can do that,” Dean nods, hungry and eyes so dark. He glances up
at Sam and rubs the pad of his thumb along Sam’s bottom lip, “I can do that for
you,” he whispers and just as quick he slides down and his mouth is on him.
Sam does everything in his power not to throw Dean off him, everything so
intense, every feeling so overwhelming. Dean’s mouth so fucking hot, his tongue
so soft it twists gasps from Sam’s mouth. When Dean sucks up, right to the
head, his tongue sweeping so patiently along the underside of his cock Sam
keens so loud he thinks he hears a thump from the neighbors.
Sam doesn’t know if Dean’s ever done this before but god, fuck, fuck if it
doesn’t feel like the most amazing thing in the world. He knows he’s shaking,
writhing, crying out words that are swallowed by the air as Dean flattens his
tongue and slides up his cock so fucking slow the pleasure almost feels so
painful. He widens his jaw, opens up, hollows his cheeks and takes him so deep
into his throat Sam wants to crawl out of his skin.
“Oh fuck,” Sam cries out, shaking against the bed, and when Dean’s tongue
slides so carefully over the slit of his cock he clutches so tight he fears he
may tear the sheets. "Dean, fuck, fuck gonna-" Sam thrusts up quick,
uncontrollably, and Dean slams a hand on his hips, holding him down,
controlling the wild thrusts; swallowing him down all the way; his nose pressed
to his skin and Sam can't hold back the scream scratching past his throat even
if he tried.
Dean moans around him and sucks up so firm Sam's voice chokes, his body drawn
tight as he comes, so hard down Dean's throat and he's swallowing, throat
working with each pulse, still moving, still sucking him down, allowing Sam
every single pleasure of release.
Sam is still twitching, eyes peeled back, stars dancing around the room when he
feels Dean slide up his body, his mouth on him, kissing him slow.
Sam groans and kisses back lazily, licking the taste of his own come and he
shudders, Dean's hands smoothing over his sensitive body, sliding up his neck,
to his cheek, clutching around his hair.
"Sammy," he whispers against his mouth and shifts, his cock still hard as he
thrust up Sam's hip. He ruts quick, rubbing desperately and Sam reaches down,
skimming over the sweat of their bodies and wraps his hand around Dean's cock.
"Fuck, Sam," he groans, breathing unevenly through his nose, gasping as Sam
jerks up and down, Dean's cock so hard, skin so soft and burning under his
palm.
"Is this, Dean-" Sam looks up into his dark eyes and bites his lip, "is this
ok?" he breathes.
Dean slams against his mouth and comes with a deep cry, kissing him senseless,
spilling over Sam's fist in hot spurts, coming on Sam's hip; he keeps working
his hand, pushing out every drop until Dean’s cock simply twitches, spent and
turning soft around his fingers.
"Fuck, fuck," Dean pants against Sam's neck, kissing him softly, licking the
sweat from his skin as he comes down from his high.
Sam shudders and rolls against Dean's side, ignoring the drying come on his
body as he wraps his arms around his brother's shoulder and shimmies in against
his body.
Dean grunts against his shoulder. "You ok?" he asks and Sam nods with a yawn,
he yawns himself and breaks away from Sam just for a second and slides out of
bed. Sam watches past hazy eyes as Dean tugs the blankets from the other bed,
whipping the food wrappers and empty beer bottles to the floor. He watches the
flex of Dean’s arms, the way the muscles in his back move, glide under his skin
and god, he is so fucking beautiful Sam can hardly stand it. Dean throws the
blankets over them and slides back into bed, gathering Sam into his arms and
holds him close, kissing him softly, delicate little licks at the corner of his
mouth, across his bottom lip, tiny presses to his lips, practically making Sam
purr with delight. It’s quite possibly the best feeling in the whole entire
world. “Time to sleep, Sammy,” he murmurs and takes a deep, long breath that
whittles down into a pleased sigh.
Sam doesn’t want to fall asleep, not yet. He wants to talk to Dean and and hold
him and touch him. Sam wants to kiss him some more, as much as he can since he
doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance to do this again. But Dean’s arms
feel nice and warm around him, his hands hot against his back, his sleepy
breath the softest brush against his neck. He could totally fall asleep and be
ok with it, just like this.
Sam looks down at Dean, he’s already asleep, snoring softly and Sam sighs. His
fingers trip down Dean’s shoulder, pressure almost feathersoft as he slides
them over his muscle, past Dean’s elbow.
Dean’s scent is intoxicating and Sam breathes him in, sliding his hand up, up,
up, along his neck, halting just a moment when Dean shifts, brow lines folding
down for just a moment before he sighs and starts snoring again. He brushes his
fingers along the base of his neck, nails curling just slightly around the damp
hair.
“Sam, you’re not sleeping,” Dean mutters and Sam’s hand stills as he glances
down, Dean’s eyes are still closed, like he’s talking in his sleep. “Why are
you touching me like that?” he finally does open his eyes and tilts his head
back. He looks worn out and maybe still a little drunk.
Sam frowns, it all hits him like punch to the gut. “Because you’re still
probably drunk,” he whispers hesitantly, fingers curling into Dean’s skin,
pressing his cheek against Dean’s hair, taking a long deep whiff, “because I
want to remember how this feels,” Sam pulls away slightly and Dean’s arms
release him slightly, makes it easier to move. Sam brings his other hand up and
curls it around Dean’s cheek, leaning down, kissing him softly, Dean’s mouth
opening up for him, humming in pleasure as Sam’s tongue caresses his, tenderly,
lovingly, like making a memory. “Don’t know if it’ll happen again,” he breathes
against Dean’s lips. “Want it too, always,” the tip of his tongue pokes through
Dean’s opened mouth, licking so carefully inside, “always, Dean.”
Dean searches Sam’s eyes, looking for something, as if he’s seeking some hidden
truth in his brother’s gaze. “Do you?” Dean asks deeply, “Is that what you
want?”
And Sam feels flayed wide open, his emotions spring embarrassingly to the
corner of his eyes, wetting his lashes, but no tears. “Every fucking day,” he
whispers.
Dean’s still searching for that thing in his eyes before he nods so slightly,
almost unseen, even the tiny curve at the corner of his lip in the smallest of
smiles but Sam sees everything about Dean, the way he moves; the exhale of
every single breath. Every change of his eyes, dark and predatory when he
hunts, disappointed and angry when he’s around dad, heated when he sees a
pretty girl and then there’s the way he looks at him, at Sam, like now, tender,
gentle, reassuring and protective.
Dean’s eyes tell stories and Sam wants to know more. Wants this more. Wants
Dean more. Now that it’s happened, there’s no going back. Sam can’t. He won’t.
“Ok,” Dean kisses Sam, swallows his breath, rolls on top of him and sinks
between Sam’s spreading thighs. “Ok, Sammy,” he whispers, presses his mouth to
Sam's neck. “Maybe not every day but yeah. Yeah, Sammy, I can do that,” Dean
grins and Sam lets out a watery laugh, surging up to kiss Dean hard, thankful.
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