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It’s been a week since they put Truman High in the rear view mirror and Dean’s skin is still crawling. He’d been so relieved to get out of there and back in the Impala with his dad and Sammy, exactly where he should be, not studying for some stupid history test. He’d eagerly asked their dad for a play by play on the hunt, trying to commit any details to memory that may come in useful on another job. He’d tried to get Sammy involved in the conversation but the little brat was too busy sulking.
Part of Dean did feel a pang of guilt for being so eager to leave that particular school behind when it upset Sammy so much but their lifestyle doesn’t allow for sentimentality like that, and he’s told the kid that several times in the past few days. All he’s got in return is lots of exaggerated sighs, stomping around, pouting and Sam generally bitching about how life is so unfair.
“Hey, squirt, a little help, here?” the elder Winchester says as he almost bursts into their latest motel room carrying a grocery bag under each arm, a weapons bag in one hand and a bucket of ice and his keys in the other.
Sam sighs from his position on the bed, some book resting across his thighs, but pushes it aside and throws his long legs over the bed to stand. He’s across the room before Dean has closed the door. Long legged freak.
“Guess this means dad’s gone, again!” The clipped tone to his words tell Dean that he’s even more pissed off than before.
“He got a call from another hunter a couple of days drive away with a possible lead on Yellow Eyes that he doesn’t need us for until he knows it’s worth following, so here we are,” Dean replies, watching his brother put the grocery bags down on the small counter space the room has, “home, sweet, home!” Another sigh from his brother and Dean prepares himself for the tirade as he slips his leather jacket off and hangs it over the back of a chair.
“You know, if he was just going to fuck off again we could’ve stayed at Truman,” Sam snaps, “we could’ve had another week, at least, he’s such a selfish prick.”
“He didn’t know he was gonna get the call,” Dean replies, wearlily, “stop being such a little bitch.”
“Great, of course you’re defending him, again, Dean,” Sam replies, slamming the cupboard and fridge door as he puts the shopping away, “don’t you ever get tired of kissing the man’s ass?”
“What does it matter if we spent another week at that shitty school?” he shoots back, only half choosing to focus on that rather than Sam’s griping about dad in general, “What the Hell is it with you and that place, anyway?”
Sam’s shoulders stiffen and his face morphs into an expression that signals an epic bitch fit is imminent, “You wouldn’t understand, Dean. I had friends, people respected me!” he shouts.
Dean snorts, “Friends aren’t everything, Sammy!” He realises his mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth, his brother’s face changes from angry to kicked puppy, then back again.
“Let me guess, this is where you give me the speech about family being everything. That’s all that matters, right?” he draws in a deep breath, clearly he’s not finished, “I’m sorry Dean, but sometimes it’s not enough! I liked it there and people liked me, I felt like I fit in for the first time. Why can’t you get that?”
“They didn’t like you, Sam,” he retorts, ignoring the twist in his belly at Sam saying they aren’t - Dean isn’t - enough, “you were just the kid who stood up to the bully, they’ll move on to someone else next week, Sammy, that's high school!”
Sam clenches his fists at his sides, slim chest and shoulders heaving, “You’re just jealous, Dean, you’re just the kid who made out with girls in the supply closet, they’ll move on to someone else next week.”
“Shut up, Sam,” he says angry at his little shit of a brother throwing his own words back at him, “you don’t know what you’re talking about. A few handshakes and pats on the back doesn’t make you the coolest kid in the school.”
Sam rolls his eyes and lets out a humourless laugh, “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” His sibling is walking towards him, probably not even realising he’s doing it, and certainly not realising that the way his eyes are filled with rage and heat is fucking hot, and that’s a train of thought Dean’s been trying to avoid for months, now. He shouldn’t find his annoying, bitchy, gangly, fourteen year old, perpetually pissed off baby brother hot. He shouldn’t want to kiss the pout off those candy pink lips, shouldn’t want to run his hands and mouth over the miles of tanned skin of his changing body and he shouldn’t want to know what it feels like to have Sam spread out underneath him, sweating and shaking as he fucks the kid into the mattress, but God help him he does, he wants all of it so much he aches with it.
The closer Sam gets the more interest Dean’s dick pays, stirring in his jeans, “What? You don’t know what the Hell you’re talking about, Sammy!” he says, sounding breathless.
“You’re always the cool kid, Dean, you’re always the centre of attention and that’s exactly how to like it,” he’s less than a foot away now and suddenly he pushes Dean shoulder with one of his gigantic hands, “you’re jealous that it was me this time,” another push and then he’s so close that Dean can smell him, “just admit it.”
Even as the older brother steps forward, grabbing Sam by the top of both arms - skinny, sure, but all firm muscle underneath - and slamming him into the wall, Dean knows he’s fucked. He’s angry, horny and Sam’s pushed him too far this time. It can’t end well, still it doesn’t stop him from stepping right into the kid’s personal space, feeling his body heat through their layers of clothing, “I said…” he grits, tightening his grip to emphasise his point, “shut...up!”
Sam has a mildly shocked but mostly defiant look on his face. He’s breathing almost as heavily as Dean, mouth slightly open. He licks his lips and then his expression changes into one that Dean knows from experience is pure challenge, “Make me!” he says.
Dean’s eyes flick to his brother’s mouth, his pink, spit shiny lips and from the corner of his eye he can see the pulse in Sam’s neck throbbing. Months worth of pent up anger and lust wins out and Dean’s downstairs brain takes over his actions. The next thing he knows he’s leaning forward to capture those sinful lips with his own. It’s mostly pressure, no finesse, just heat and desire. He feels his brother freeze and knows he should stop, but instead he finds himself sucking the teen’s bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at it before he runs his tongue over to soothe it before it hits him what he’s done. He steps back, pulling his hands away from Sam’s arms as if the touch is burning him. He can feel his mouth drop open and his heart is pounding in his chest with rising panic.
“Dean?” Sam says in a small voice, a confused look on his face.
“Sammy,” Dean croaks, “I’m so sorry, I…”
Whatever else he was going to say doesn’t make it out as Sam reaches towards him, tugging on his shirts to pull him closer. He licks his lips again and slides his other hand around the back of Dean’s neck to hold him in place as he presses their lips back together, this time taking the lead and practically devouring his older brother’s mouth like their kiss is the only thing keeping him alive.
Sam’s tongue makes its way into Dean’s mouth as the older teen wraps a hand around his brother’s skinny waist. Sam moans when their tongues meet, hot and slick, and Dean’s cock throbs at the sound. His other hand slides to the back of Sam’s thigh, lifting his leg so that their hard lengths line up and rolls his own hips.
“Fuck!” Sam gasps, tearing his mouth away, much to Dean’s dislike. He does, however, approve of the breathy moan that follows it and the way Sam’s long fingers clench, his blunt nails digging into the back of Dean’s neck as slimmer hips roll forward as well.
“Maybe one day,” he mutters into Sam’s neck, brushing his lips over the throbbing pulse before sucking on it. The heat and smell of his baby brother is making him leak into his shorts and he wants nothing more than to pick him up and throw him up onto the bed. A fresh wave of arousal shoots through him at the thought, but that would also mean moving and that’s not an option.
Sam rolls his hips again and lets out the most delicious whimper, “Dean,” he gasps, his breath hot and moist over the older teen’s ear, “please!"
Dean scrapes his teeth over the baby soft skin of his brother’s neck before pulling back to look at him. The younger boy's face is flushed, his eyes lust glazed, lips slick, swollen and inviting. He's one of the most beautiful things Dean’s ever seen and his breath catches in his throat at the sight, “What, Sammy?” he asks, eventually, unable to keep the tremble from his voice.
Sam looks at him with big, wide eyes and chews on his bottom lip for a few seconds before speaking, “Is this what you really want?”
Dean’s stomach drops, hoping he’s not misread his brother’s actions, though it’s highly doubtful from the way the kid’s dick is poking into him, “Sammy, I’m not gonna force you into anything,” he replies, avoiding the direct question as usual. He releases his brother’s leg and brushes some of the soft, shiny hair from his eyes where it’s getting too long, “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t…”
“It’s OK, Dean, it’s what I want, I promise.”
Relief floods through the older teen but still he feels the familiar guilt as well, “But we’re brothers, Sammy, it’s wrong.”
“So?” Sam replies immediately, the defiant tone making Dean smile, “It’s just us, Dean, it always has been. You and me.”
That hits the older boy in the chest, half sadness and half happy that it's just them against the world. He leans in and places a soft kiss to Sam’s lips, completely different to the ones they’ve just been sharing, it’s all love, no heat behind it, “I know,” he replies, softly, “I need you to be sure, Sammy.”
Predictably Sam rolls his eyes and huffs, “Dean?”
“Yeah, Sammy?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
With a chuckle Dean complies, sucking on his brother’s tongue when it sweeps into his mouth. He holds Sam’s waist more firmly and grabs the back of his thigh again, but instead of raising it like he did before, he lifts his brother up, completely. The squawk the kid lets out will be something to tease him ruthlessly about, later, big brother duties and all, but now for he just grins.
“Asshole!” Sam hisses, holding onto Dean's shoulders for support.
“Uh huh,” the older brother shrugs, widening his stance a little to even their weight out. He chuckles when Sam wraps his legs tight around Dean’s waist, wrists around the back of his neck and holding on tight, “spider monkey,” the older rumbles against the spot below Sam’s ear, the nickname from when they were kids making him falter for a second before Sam tugs at his hair to pull their mouths together again. Sam lets out a small grunt as Dean pushes him back into the wall so he can’t slip down his brother’s bigger body, but he doesn’t stop kissing so Dean figures the kid didn’t bang his head. Soon, though, he pulls away for breath, sucking in much needed air even as he rolls his hips so that their dicks line up again. They set a rhythm for a glorious couple of minutes until Sam whines and stops the movement.
“Need to feel you, Dean,” he pants, “please,” he says even as he’s trying to navigate taking his own shirt and hoodie off as well as both of his brother’s shirts without relinquishing his grip on the man, himself.
“‘S’ OK, baby boy," Dean whispers, shifting his weight to one side so he can use the wall in their favour. He pulls Sam’s arms from around his neck and tugs the bottom of his hoodie and t-shirt, the younger teen finally getting the message and lifting his arms to get rid of them before he’s reaching to do the same for Dean then unbuckling and unzipping his own pants before his hand is batted away, “Let me do it, Sammy,” he said, tugging at the waistband of Sam’s boxers, “last chance to stop.”
Sam lets out an irritated huff before he reaches down and moves the fabric, tucking it under his balls, “Touch me, God, please touch me!” he begs.
The neediness in his voice sends heat coursing through Dean’s boy, even as his mouth goes dry, suddenly nervous as he looks down. He’s seen Sam naked plenty of times, admittedly as often as he can the past few months so he knows what the kid’s packing but he’s never seen him hard. He’s imagined it plenty of times and that was hot, but now he’s getting the chance to look and touch he feels like he’s on fire. He reaches out with a shaky hand to rub his middle and index fingers around the angry looking head, collecting some of the slippery pre-come that’s leaking everywhere, delighting in the gasp it elicits from his baby brother. He can feel the heat radiating from him at just that touch, can smell Sam’s musk and his own cock aches with want. Sam moans deep in his throat when Dean wraps his fingers around his brother’s slim but still very respectable length, and Dean lets out a moan of his own at the feel of it in his hand.
“So wet,” he says, almost reverently as he takes a firmer grip, spreading the slick around, “that’s fucking hot, Sammy!” The younger teen’s response is to move his hips as best he can in this position, doing his utmost to fuck into Dean’s fist, breathy moans and chants of his brother’s name falling from his lips. Dean speeds up his, stopping to rub the bundle of nerves under the head every few strokes just for the pained sounds Sam makes, though he only has pleasure on his face.
“C-close,” Sam manages to gasp as his abs start to tighten.
Suddenly it’s not enough for Dean and he stops stroking, cutting off Sam's protests with a messy kiss that’s more tongue and breath than lips, “Shh,” he coos when he pulls back, “I want more.”
Sam’s head snaps up and his eyes open, “More how?” he pants, looking a little startled.
“Don’t worry,” Dean says, stroking Sam’s cheek, “I just want to taste you, is that OK, Sammy?”
His baby brother nods, “Yeah, Dean, yeah!” he breathes before diving in for another kiss.
Dean hoists Sam back up around his waist, grips his ass cheek and hauls him away from the wall. Sam’s still so light despite the fact he’s shot up six inches in as many months and something about that turns Dean on even more. He turns them and walks towards the bed, leaning down to drop Sam onto the mattress as quickly as possible.
As soon as his hands are free he works on getting the rest of his clothes off while Sam does the same. Dean nearly trips over trying to get out of his jeans and boots all at the same time because he can’t take his eyes off Sam's slender body as he finally lies back gloriously naked, but somehow the older brother manages to stay upright.
Sam looks a little nervous but his cock is still standing proud so Dean figures he doesn’t need to worry. He finally takes hold of his own neglected cock and hisses at how sensitive he is, how close he is from just being able to kiss and touch his brother. He pumps himself slowly a few times just to take the pressure off before he crawls over Sam on the bed. He leans down to kiss him again, wanting to feel the heat of his lips once more. The temptation to lower himself down onto Sammy and have them rut against each other is so powerful Dean’s almost dizzy with it, but he has other plans. He pulls back and looks at his brother’s beautiful face then kisses his forehead, “You’re gonna like this, Sammy, I promise.”
Sam nods, his eyes conveying that he fully trusts his brother, and that sends more lust through Dean. He savours every taste of familiar skin infused with raging hormones as he makes his way down his brother’s body, discovering that Sam seems most sensitive on his neck, his nipples and his belly button. By the time Dean gets to Sam’s belly there’s a small pool of pre-come below it, lying over that little mole that sits above his downy happy trail, and the wet head of his cock is leaving a sticky trail on Dean’s chin. He takes in a shaky breath and lets it out slowly as he rubs his hands over Sam’s thighs, feeling the muscles taught under his palms. Before he can change his mind he takes his baby brother’s cock in his right hand, holding it at the base. It twitches in his grip and Sam moans and thrusts his hips up.
“Easy, tiger,” he says, voice rough with lust, and moves his left hand to Sam’s skinny hip to hold him still. He leans forward and gently licks the head of the teen’s cock, dipping into the slit with the tip of his tongue. He’s not prepared for how responsive Sam is and has to sit back to avoid getting poked in the eye, “shh, ‘s alright, Sammy,” he says before going back in again. This time he licks a wide stripe up the underside before sweeping his whole tongue around the head, gathering up the taste. Sam lets out a noise something like ‘hnnnghh’ and Dean takes it as a good sign from the way his brother’s head is thrown back. He seals his mouth over the head and pumps the shaft a couple of times, the flavour of clean, musky skin and Sammy stronger on his tongue as more pre-come coats his tongue.
“Oh, God,” Sam says above him, his hands threading into his brother’s hair, “Dean, shit, I’m gonna…” he says, trying to buck his hips up.
As much as Dean wants to eventually feel his baby brother come in his mouth, this first time he needs to see Sam’s face as he falls apart. He chances another pump of his hand and a firm suck on the tip before he lifts his head. The sight almost makes him come untouched right there.
Sam’s flushed all over his chest, neck and face, a sheen of sweat, causing some of his hair to stick to his forehead. His mouth is open, bottom lip slick, red and swollen from the kissing and where he’s been biting it. He’s panting, abs and stomach muscles tight as he gets closer to orgasm, and the noises he’s making, fuck they’re enough to drive a person wild. Dean’s seen a lot of sexy in his life but right now nothing has ever been this hot. Breathy little moans which morph into high pitched whines leave Sam’s mouth as Dean starts pumping his cock in earnest, now. One of Sam’s hands has fallen from his brother’s head and is clawing at the covers below him.
“Dean!” he’s practically sobbing, now, as all of his muscles tense, “Fuuuck!” he cries as he curls in on himself and comes so hard the first splash hits his throat.
“Holy shit!” Dean rasps as he keeps pumping, most of Sam’s release landing on his stomach and finally running hot and sticky onto the older Winchester’s hand. When he can see Sam can’t take any more, he scrambles up the bed, straddling his brother’s hips and pulling Sam’s arm up and wrapping those long fingers around his own dick, Dean’s thicker ones guiding them in a fast, brutal rhythm. He almost sobs in relief at the contact, he’s so fucking turned on, “Stay with me, Sammy,” he says as his brother’s head wobbles on his shoulder, offering him a shaky smile.
“I got you,” he says around rattling breaths as he rides his own high, so Dean removes his own hand. Sam sits up so that their chests are only inches apart and it gives him a better grip, his fingers squeezing and pulling just right.
Dean’s clutching Sam’s upper arm with one hand, the other fisting the hair at the base of Sam’s skull and his face buried in the side of his baby brother’s sweaty neck. In between the grunts and breathy moans he’s making, he thinks the words coming from his mouth are basically his brother’s name and curses but he couldn’t care less if he was speaking in tongues, right now. He pumps his hips a couple more times before he goes rigid, crying out as he comes harder than he has in a long, long time, not even sure he doesn't temporarily black out.
He feels Sam’s clean hand stroking over his sweaty back as he struggles to catch his breath, eventually lifting his head to look at his brother. He’s sex drunk and covered in sweat and their shared come, but he looks happy and a warm feeling spreads through his chest because he did that. He places soft kisses to his young lover’s still hot lips and gently lies them down until Sam jerks and winces.
“Eww, gross,” he says, twisting his body so that he's pushed up on an elbow as a glob of cooling come slides down his stomach and drops onto the bed. Dean can’t help throwing his head back and laughing which earns him a smack to the arm, “Jerk!” Sam says without heat as he grabs some of the complimentary tissues from the nightstand to wipe them both down with.
“Bitch!” Dean automatically throws back, even as he’s holding his arm out for Sam to curl into his side.
Sam starts to stroke his fingers up and down Dean’s sternum for a couple of minutes before the older boy can hear the cogs turning, so he’s not surprised to hear the intake of breath meaning his brother is about to speak, “Dean?”
“Yeah?” he says, though he wants to protest that they don’t need to have a therapy session about this, he already knows it’s fucked up, thank you very much.
“Why now?”
He’s a little taken aback by the question because it’s not what expected, “What do you mean, Sammy?”
The younger Winchester lifts his head and rests his chin on Dean’s chest to look up at him, “I mean why now... I know you’ve been looking at me in,” he waves his hand, gesturing towards their groins, “that way for a while, I’m not an idiot. You never did anything about it, though. What changed?”
Dean stomach clenches, somewhere down the line he’s going to freak out, convince himself he’s ruined Sam, or worse, Sam realises that and leaves, but for now he’s done with guilt. Maybe it’s the endorphins or maybe it really is what they both want, either way Sam is waiting for an answer. Dean’s tried to be as honest as he can with his brother as long as it hasn’t got him into shit with dad, and he sees no reason to change that, now, “That fucking school,” he sighs, he still feels an irrational amount of anger about it all, “all those kids had no right to be touching you, Sammy, I shoulda ripped their lungs out!”
“Seriously, Dean?” Sam says in that 'why-am-I-related-to-this-moron’ way of his and raises an eyebrow, “So you were jealous!” The triumph at being right is so clear in his voice the little brat isn’t even phrasing it as a question.
“Shut up, Sam!”
“You know I’m right!” he says, a little giddy and a whole lot smug.
The older sibling part of Dean’s brain makes him want to deny it, not admit defeat to his cocky little brother. He sighs and shifts so that he’s turned on his side, propped up on his elbow. He watches Sam mimic his position and then reaches out to stroke his fingers through the kid’s silky hair, over his cheek bone then traces his thumb over those delicious lips, “You’re mine, Sammy,” he says, softly.
The smile that lights up Sam’s face and the look of adoration in his little brother’s eyes makes Dean’s chest tight and he lets himself be pulled into the younger boy’s embrace, kissing his lips, tenderly, “No chick flick moments, Sammy.”
“Right,” Sam snorts, rolling his eyes, “God forbid.”
Dean shivers a little from the chilly November air, tapping Sam’s leg so he moves off the covers before he pulls them up around them both, his chest to Sam’s back and his arm thrown around the kid’s waist, a position they seem to have been in all their lives, but now everything has changed. He’s just starting to drift off to sleep when Sam speaks.
“Dean?”
“Yeah, Sammy.”
His brother tangles their legs together and squeezes Dean’s hand, “I wanted this. Promise me you’re gonna be here when I wake up?” His voice is quiet and scared sounding, very much the baby brother needing comfort.
Dean tightens his grip on the boy in his arms and places a kiss to the soft skin of his neck, breathing in the scent of home as well as pure sex, “I’m gonna be right here, Sammy. Always.”