Archive of Our Own

When Sam was sixteen, dad started taking Dean along on hunts more often than not, leaving Sam all alone in empty motels with explicit instructions not to go anywhere. Sam despised it, hated every second he had to to spend in those stuffy rooms with nothing to do but watch the one channel on TV. He didn’t hate the fact that dad wouldn’t take him with them, he honestly couldn’t care less. He did object to being treated like a kid, especially when it often felt like he was the only one with an ounce of common sense left. But what he really hated was being apart from Dean. Everything was more bearable with his big brother there to keep him company, even though Sam would probably never admit it out loud, mostly because Dean wouldn’t like it. No chick flick moments and all that.

It was easier when they were kids. Dad would be gone for days, sometimes even whole weeks, and at first Sam missed him, couldn’t help but feel abandoned. But he quickly got used to it, it didn’t bother him anymore because Dean was there and Dean would do anything to keep Sammy safe and happy and it was good enough because it had to be and then because it just was.

But suddenly Dean was old enough to drive, old enough to go out with girls, old enough to hunt monsters and risk his life. And Sam was old enough to be left all alone. It stung because Dean could just say no but he never did. He was desperate for dad’s approval and Sam couldn’t understand it because what did it matter? The way Sam saw it, Dean was perfect the way he was, even if they drove each other completely insane sometimes, and he didn’t have anything to prove to anybody, least of all John Winchester. There was something almost possessive about it - Sam loved Dean so much and it should have been enough but it never would be and it hurt like hell. Dean deserved better, he deserved to know his own worth and to not need anybody’s approval. Sam wanted him to stand up to their father just once, instead of blindly obeying orders like the perfect little soldier he was supposed to be. He wanted to ruin him, take him apart and mess him up, show him that there was more to life than John Winchester. But Dean wouldn’t want to listen to that either.

It was three in the morning one week into the spring break, so Sam had no school to get up for in the morning and nothing to do. It was times like these that he found himself wishing for a paper due in three days or a big test or anything because he was so bored he was going to start climbing the walls soon.

Dad and Dean drove off three days earlier, separately, and went fuck knows where, leaving Sam in the damn cabin in the middle of nowhere, Nevada. There was a TV and no civilization within walking distance, just a vast expanse of nothing. Sam had found Dean’s stash of porn mags on the first day and by day three he didn’t want to see a naked woman for the next six months at least. He’d been working out, chopping wood - not that they’d be needing it anytime soon but it gave him something to do and maybe they’d be back there in winter anyway - and he even cleaned up the whole place. Twice.

So it was day four, middle of the night, and Sam was lying on the couch, staring at the spider on the ceiling in the corner of the room. It’d been just sitting there for three hours and he was starting to wonder if it was even alive because in that time it hadn’t moved half an inch. But then neither had Sam…

A car drove up and the sound of wheels on the dirt road almost made Sam cry from relief. Then he realized it was just one car. It could be dad. Or Dean. Or it could be a serial killer. He turned off the lamp beside the couch and reached for the gun he kept under the cushions but didn’t get up.

There was the sound of key in the lock and the door opened with a tired squeak.

“Sammy?”

Dean sounded… off. It was worrying enough that Sam threw the gun on the carpet, jumped up off the couch and crossed the room in three strides. He put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, pulling it back as if he’d been burned when it made Dean hiss in pain.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” He started making his way across the room and towards the bathroom and Sam followed without thinking. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Wasn’t asleep. Where’s dad?” He asked, distracted because Dean wasn’t freaking out so dad had to be fine. Dean wasn’t, despite what he had said, Sam could tell from the way he held himself all stiff and tense, how slowly he moved.

“He’ll be back tomorrow.”

Sam hummed. Dean closed the bathroom door in his face but he didn’t lock it, so Sam decided it to take it as an invitation. Not that Dean was in any state to argue. He pushed the door open and was met with a sight which made his stomach twist. Dean was leaning against the sink heavily and he looked deathly pale in the harsh light. He didn’t argue when Sam tugged on his shirt, despite the grimace of pain he couldn’t quite hide when Sam moved his arm.

“What happened?” He asked, feeling around Dean’s shoulder blade and then down his ribs, just to make sure nothing was dislocated or broken.

“I screwed up.” Came the usual answer and suddenly Sam felt inexplicably angry. Angry at Dean for leaving him alone, for letting himself get injured in the name of something that almost certainly wasn’t worth it, and for blaming himself, as if the weight of the whole world rested on his shoulders and it was his job to save everybody.

His shirt was torn and bloody and there was a bruise forming on his cheek and a shallow cut running down the side of his neck. He smelled of sulfur and smoke and Sam just gripped his arms and kissed him. It was far from graceful, their teeth clashing together and Dean tasted like blood and sweat. Dean let him do it for several seconds, just stood there and let Sam slobber all over him. Then his fingers wrapped around his biceps, tight and unforgiving, and Sam was suddenly reminded that they might be the same height now but Dean, even injured, still had four years and a good twenty pounds of muscle on him.

“Sammy, stop.” But he didn’t sound angry. There was no fight left in him, only resignation. He looked tired all of a sudden and twice his actual age. All Sam wanted to do was wrap him up in a blanket and lock them both in the bedroom, just stay there forever. Dean was always so insistent on protecting Sam he didn’t seem to realize he was the one in need of protecting.

Dean was clearly expecting a fight, and Sam knew he had been more argumentative lately, but he didn’t want to argue now. Not with Dean. He just nodded and tugged at the torn cotton of Dean’s T-shirt. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I can do it myself,” Dean said immediately.

“I want to help.” And Dean could never resist those puppy eyes, Sam knew that, used it to his advantage whenever he could. He helped Dean get the T-shirt off, fingers immediately running down his ribs, just to double-check that nothing was broken, that there were no hidden injuries he’d missed.

“Stop fussing,” Dean said but there was no bite in his voice. Not only that, the corners of his mouth were twitching. Sam raised an eyebrow but didn’t dare say anything.

He wet a washcloth and gently run it down Dean’s face and neck. There was some crusted blood on his collarbone, maybe not even his blood, but he looked unharmed. Other than the bruises that were going to start blossoming pretty soon. He was going to be pretty sore the next day, but he wasn’t actually hurt which counted as a huge win in their book.

Sam wasn’t sure what made him feel all raw and exposed but he’d been feeling like this a lot lately. Maybe it was just the beauty of being a teenager, more likely it was the not knowing what was happening, staring at the wall and seeing Dean with his chest ripped open, bleeding out in the basement of some abandoned building and Sam wouldn’t be able to save him, wouldn’t even know until dad came home with Dean’s-

“Sam, are you alright? You look freaked out.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Let’s just go to bed.”

Dean gave him an appraising look but didn’t push, which was a testament to how tired he really was.

“Let’s go to bed,” he agreed.

Sam hadn’t told anybody about the nightmares. It felt like they’d come on suddenly but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that they’d been building up over months, maybe even years. At first it was just fire. Nothing more. No screams, no nothing, just bright red flames all around him. Then he saw a house burning and he didn’t remember that, he didn’t even remember what the house looked like, but he knew he was dreaming about his mother burning in their childhood home. It was bad but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. After all, it already happened — sixteen years ago, in fact. Sam knew how to deal with it. But then…

Then he started seeing Dean. Dean covered in blood. Dean with a knife in his chest. Dean being torn apart by some monster Sam wasn’t even sure existed. Dean dying. Over and over again and it felt so real. It was worse when Dean wasn’t there. Sam would wake up, sheets and clothes drenched in sweat, tears running down his face and for the first few moments he couldn’t breathe. Then he would look at the other bed, find it empty, and spend the rest of the night trying to convince himself that Dean was going to be fine. That he shouldn’t just call him for something stupid like this, he wasn’t a baby for fuck’s sake, they were just dreams.

That night he woke up to Dean saying his name. At first he didn’t know where he was, if he was still dreaming. It took his brain a while to realize that the urgent tone in Dean’s voice was real, that Dean was real. He was propped up on his elbow in his own bed, body turned toward Sam and a pinched expression on his face.

“You okay?”

Sam tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. He could tell Dean was starting to freak out but his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest and he couldn’t catch his breath. He shook his head slowly and hoped Dean wouldn’t laugh at him.

Dean frowned. He lifted the covers and Sam waited for him to get up but he just shifted back and nodded towards his own mattress. Sam blinked at him, not wanting to believe that Dean was honestly offering to let Sam sleep in his bed. Just because he had a fucking nightmare.

“Come on, Sammy. It’s okay.”

He didn’t say anything when Sam climbed in beside him, just wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer, chest pressed to Sam’s back, tucked the blanket securely around Sam’s shoulders and just left his hand on Sam’s chest like it was no big deal. And Sam still couldn’t breathe but it was getting easier, the tension in his lungs disappearing. Dean was okay. It was just a stupid dream. Dean was fine and safe and Sam wasn’t going to let anything happen to him.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

Sam shook his head. Talking wasn’t going to change shit. Dean wasn’t going to stop being a hunter, nothing could convince him to do that. It was in his blood, it was all he knew and Sam could easily imagine a different life for him, for both of them, but he knew Dean couldn’t. He measured his own value solely in the number of monsters killed and people saved.

Sam wasn’t sure why he did it but it was as if he was being pulled towards Dean like a magnet. Dean didn’t try to stop him from turning around. This kiss was gentle, more of a peck than anything else. Sam waited for Dean to push him away, was already bracing himself for the shove that never came.

“Dean?”

“It’s okay, Sammy. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t know that.”

Dean sighed. “No, I can’t.” And it was the first time he admitted it out loud.

Sam didn’t know what to say, so he kissed him again. And Dean let him. He let Sam lick his way into his mouth and slip his fingers under the hem of his T-shirt. He pretended not to notice when Sam started rubbing his erection against Dean’s thigh, just bit on his bottom lip and pulled, fingers carding through Sam’s hair as Sam came in his underwear. But when he tried to return the favor Dean’s fingers wrapped around his wrists and squeezed.

“I want to-”

“Sammy, no.” Sam must have looked as dejected as he felt because Dean sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead in silent apology. “Think you’ll be able to get some sleep now?”

Sam nodded and only then did Dean release the hold on his wrists. “Dean…”

“Go to sleep, Sammy.”

When Sam kissed him again the next morning, Dean didn’t say anything. Nor did he protest when Sam did it again later that afternoon, after dad had gone out to find the nearest bar. And again when Dean came out of the bathroom several hours later, smelling of soap and shaving cream. Not only that, he even opened Sam’s jeans and pushed his hand inside and Sam came so quickly he would’ve been embarrassed if he hadn’t noticed the heavy-lidded look Dean was giving him or the unmistakable bulge in his underwear.

But when Sam tried to touch him, Dean stopped him just like he had the night before.

“Dean, come on,” Sam whined and cringed at how much he sounded like a little child. “I want to.”

Dean closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. “We can’t.”

And Sam had to raise his eyebrows and laugh at that because seriously. What Dean think he had just done? How was it any different?

“I want to,” he repeated, barely louder than a whisper and pressed a kiss to Dean’s jaw. He smelled kind of… sweet, familiar even without the underlying stench of blood and burning corpses that so often stuck to his clothes. He smelled safe and it pulled at Sam’s insides, made him want to hug Dean tight and never let him go.

“Please, let me do this.”

Dean didn’t move but when Sam tried to free his hands, the grip around them slackened. He ran his fingers down Dean’s stomach, wishing Dean hadn’t put on a T-shirt after his shower but not daring to try and take it off. He still didn’t trust Dean not to bolt at the first sudden move.

He wanted to slip his fingers down Dean’s underwear, but he had a feeling Dean wouldn’t let him, so he settled for cupping Dean’s erection through his boxers and sucking at his pulse point, careful not to leave any bruises. They wouldn’t be easy to explain and John Winchester was a lot of things but he wasn’t an idiot, there was no need to give him any hints that something was going on.

Dean gasped when Sam squeezed his crotch and his fingers tangled in Sam’s hair. His hips were moving softly, like he was afraid giving in would make Sam an accomplice to his sin, even though he was the one who started it, who practically begged Dean to kiss him, touch him, who needed this to feel just a bit saner for at least a little while.

Dean gasped his name when he came and it was almost enough to make Sam hard again. He really hated the thin layer of cotton separating him from Dean but he could feel it getting wetter as Dean’s hips jerked and his dick twitched. He had stopped sucking on Dean’s skin at some point and was now just standing there with his mouth open against the crook of Dean’s shoulder.

He pulled back, intent on kissing Dean again but then Dean’s hands were on his shoulders, keeping him away. Sam didn’t think he’d ever seen Dean blush so hard, it took a lot to embarrass his brother, but now his face was practically glowing and Sam wasn’t sure if arousal or shame was to blame.

“The… uh-… the bathroom’s all yours.”

“Dean…”

“Just go shower, okay? I’ll make us dinner.”

Sam didn’t want to shower. He didn’t want dinner either. He wanted… What did he want? If he was being honest, he wanted to lie down and snuggle, to kiss Dean until he was so turned on he’d let Sam do it again, maybe even let him take off their clothes this time. He wanted to touch him and then press his mouth to every inch of his body and find out if he tasted as good as Sam imagined.

He wasn’t naive enough to suggest any of it.

They kept doing it. Sam couldn’t believe it sometimes, that Dean hadn’t put a stop to it yet. Usually when he was alone, when Dean left with dad and Sam had too much time to think, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was even real, if he hadn’t dreamed it all up. But then Dean would come back and Sam would kiss him the second they were alone and Dean never pushed him away. Not only that, he even let Sam go further. It was a long process, Sam knew he had to be careful not to push him too far too soon, but it was so worth it. Sam could be patient, especially when the reward was so sweet and tempting.

The first time Sam managed to get them both naked, about a month after this… thing started, he got so turned on he had to think about his old History teacher to stop himself from coming the second his dick was touched. Dean was much more open to giving than receiving and maybe it sounded good on paper but Sam hated it. Sure, getting a blowjob was great and Dean was suspiciously skilled (not that Sam had much to compare it to), but Sam had been salivating at the thought of doing this to Dean for a change and Dean wouldn’t hear of it.

It started to get out of hand after a hunt gone bad, all of them bruised and bleeding, and Dean had almost died, the werewolf was this close to mauling him, if Sam had been a second too late… He was freaked out and so fucking angry he wanted to break something, just throw shit at walls and watch it shatter. But such outright display of disobedience and anger would never fly.

They were holed up in one motel room, just two single beds and a bathroom because they had no money left, maybe enough for two nights and five meals, if they were smart about it, and Sam wanted to scream or cry or do… something before he exploded from all the pent-up emotions (anger, frustration, fear, god he’d been so terrified, seeing Dean about to get ripped apart right before his eyes). But dad was sitting on one of the beds, writing something in his journal, so Sam decided to drag Dean into the bathroom instead, under the pretense of needing him to look at one of his injuries, come on Dean, I think I pulled a stitch, won’t take a second. If dad thought it was weird that they needed to go to the bathroom for that, not to mention lock the door behind them, he didn’t let it show.

Dean was frowning at him but Sam didn’t stop to explain, they didn’t have the time, and he needed to touch Dean, to convince himself he was okay. He kissed Dean desperately, fingers gripping the back of his T-shirt and he was shaking, but Dean didn’t comment on it, just wrapped his arms around him and relaxed back against the wall.

“Dad’s gonna hear,” he mumbled when Sam pulled away. Too soon but they needed to be quick and every second he spent on kissing Dean was a second less to do what he’d been wanting to for ages and now was finally his chance.

Let him hear, want him to know, want him to understand he doesn’t get to control you anymore, you’re not his, never his… But he knew better than to say it out loud — not to mention just thinking shit like that was possibly more fucked up than what they were doing, which was really saying something.

“You’ll just have to be quiet then.”

“Sammy?” Dean asked, voice coming out all high-pitched and wobbly like it hadn’t been in years, as Sam sank to his knees and tugged at the belt buckle right in front of his face. Dean was hard, the outline of his dick clearly visible through the thick denim, pressing against the zipper. Sam licked his lips and pushed Dean’s jeans down, hesitated for only a second and the underwear followed suit.

“Sammy,” Dean repeated, now sounding almost panicked, torn between arousal and this damn protectiveness. He probably thought he was forcing Sam to do this and Sam wouldn’t have it.

“I want to blow you,” he said, pressing his nose to Dean’s hipbone. “Wanted it since I was thirteen and you explained to me what a blowjob is. Please,” he added. Dean’s moan sounded almost pained and Sam knew he had him. Right. Where. He. Wanted.

“God, Sammy.”

Sam took it as permission and didn’t hesitate to move that last inch, lick at where the tip of Dean’s erection was shiny wet even in the dim light of the bathroom. Dean moaned again, a choked-off sound like he was trying to hold back but couldn’t and it was possibly the hottest thing Sam had ever heard.

Having a dick in his mouth was weird. And weirdly hot. Mostly hot. But Dean was still being too damn careful and Sam wanted him losing his mind, losing control. Because of Sam and nobody else. This was neither the time nor the place though, so he had to settle for quick and clumsy. He hoped to god he’d get a chance to do this again, he didn’t think Dean would protest too much, now that they’d done it once already.

He knew Dean liked it wet and messy, which probably wasn’t something you were supposed to know about your brother but they were so far past that point something silly like normal didn’t matter anymore, and he could do that, didn’t really know how to make it anything but, spit and precum everywhere. He hadn’t expected to love it quite this much but now that he was on his knees, Dean shaking with the effort it took not to thrust into his mouth, even though Sam thought he’d probably let him if Dean wanted to, his dick was aching and he was so close anything could’ve set him off.

Dean was gasping his name, clearly trying not to but he wasn’t in full control of himself anymore and Sam loved it. He used to think doing this would be somehow demeaning but he’d been wrong, so fucking wrong. It was a power trip, he’d turned Dean into a writhing mess and he was loving every second of it. He got his jeans undone and his hand inside and then he was coming all over the tiles and suddenly Dean’s hand was in his hair, trying to pull him off, his voice urgent and panicked. Sam considered swallowing for half a second before deciding it was probably better to save that particular new experience for later. He stayed on his knees, mouth open in wonder, as he worked Dean, spit-slick and dripping precum, until his hips pushed forward and he came harder than Sam had seen him do ever before.

He didn’t even try to resist the urge to lean forward and lick him clean. Dean moaned, almost pained and probably too loud, and Sam didn’t let up until Dean forced him off and up, pulling him close and pressing their foreheads together.

“Holy shit, Sammy.” He sounded awed and Sam grinned, proud of himself and giddy like he’d been smoking something.

“I know,” he replied and chuckled. Dean looked at him for a moment like he was worried Sam had lost his mind but then the corners of his mouth twitched and they were both leaning heavily against the wall, trying to pull themselves together. There was a heavy knock on the door and maybe it should’ve sobered them up but it only made them laugh harder until Sam felt like he’d never breathe again.

“You boys gonna sleep in there? The hell you doing? Get out and go to bed, we’re leaving early tomorrow.”

It wasn’t easy. Most of the time dad was there and when he wasn’t, Dean went with him. Sam had to be okay stealing five minutes here and there, whenever and wherever he could. One time dad left them in the Impala, by the side of some empty stretch of road - they hadn’t seen another car for at least an hour - because they’d somehow managed to run out of fuel. He took a gun and a knife and went to find the nearest gas station, leaving Dean with the now superfluous order to watch after his brother. Sam had no idea how long he’d be gone, it could be twenty minutes, it could be hours. He practically dragged Dean into the backseat and climbed halfway on top of him to kiss him breathless. There was a chance dad had forgotten something and would be back much sooner than expected but he didn’t care, he wasn’t going to waste any time.

Dean, for his part, was surprisingly okay with it. Even when Sam tugged his T-shirt up his chest and came all over his belly, getting some of it on Dean’s jeans, he only dug his fingers into Sam’s hips and flipped him sideways, so that he was lying on his back on the seat, Dean on top of him. He wasn’t going to ask Dean to take off his shirt but as it turned out he didn’t have to, Dean was tugging it up over his head as soon as Sam’s back hit the leather upholstery. And then he did the same with Sam’s, followed by both their jeans and underwear. And then he kissed Sam for what felt like hours, his lips and his neck, his chest, all the way down to his stomach and then back up again until Sam was hard and desperate again. And then, when Sam felt like he was about to cry, he finally lined them up and wrapped his fingers around their erections and fucked into his own hand and down against Sam.

Somewhere deep in his mind, where the logical part of his brain was struggling to function, Sam knew that the car had to be rocking from side to side in a way that would be hard to mistake for anything but what it really was. Anybody would know what was going on inside. Dad would know and even if he somehow missed it, they weren’t paying attention, the one thing that had been nailed into their heads for as long as Sam could remember, and they ignored it. They knew what lurked in the dark and they didn’t care. They wouldn’t notice if a bunch of murderous ghosts dropped by, let alone if their own father returned, and then it’d be too late, there was no innocent explanation for rutting against your brother, naked and hard. Maybe Sam should have felt guilty at the realization that the thought only turned him on even more.

 He was getting careless with it. He knew it, could tell that Dean was starting to get suspicious.

“It’s almost like you want to get caught,” he whispered one night, Sam’s erection pressed against his own as Sam rocked down against him, trying not to make too much noise, their father passed out in front of the TV just across the room, half-empty bottle of rum beside him. “You don’t, do you?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sam told him and thrust his tongue into Dean’s mouth to distract himself from the fact that it was a lielielielie.

They got a small apartment in Maine, only for two months but it was longer than they usually stayed in one place, Sam was supposed to go to school and all. There was one bedroom and a beat-down couch in the living room/kitchen where dad would sleep whenever he was actually home. The first thing Sam did was convince Dean to dry hump him against the door of their shared bedroom. The lock was flimsy and the walls paper thin and Sam could hear dad walking around, cleaning guns and sharpening knives, preparing for when he’d be going out later. Simple salt and burn, he could take care of it on his own. They’d have the place all to themselves, so how he managed to convince Dean to do this now instead of waiting for when they were alone was beyond him.

They didn’t even take off their clothes, jeans around their ankles and belt buckles clanking noisily every now and then. Sam wasn’t sure how long this could go on until dad heard and decided to investigate. Then the radio came on in the other room, the sound of AC/DC loud enough to cover up any suspicious noises and Dean pressed him harder into the door, hard enough that Sam started wondering if the half-rotten wood was strong enough to withstand their combined weights, especially with Dean thrusting against him like he was trying to push inside and once the thought appeared Sam couldn’t stop himself from imagining it. Dean holding him up, spreading him open and thrusting up inside him, properly, not just rubbing off against him, and then he was coming, biting down on Dean’s shoulder because the music was loud but the moans he couldn’t hold back were probably louder, and his mind was still going, supplying him with pictures of Dean holding him down on the bed and fucking him into the mattress and suddenly he wanted it so bad, he ached with it.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean whispered, kissing him, pressing his tongue into Sam’s mouth and Sam loved it but now it was a poor substitute for what he really wanted. He didn’t say anything though, just slid to his knees and coaxed Dean to fuck his mouth. Gently, always so fucking gentle like Sam was going to break. It didn’t take long before he was struggling to swallow, some of Dean’s cum dripping down his chin and it made him feel dirty in the best way possible. He stayed on his knees for a long time, long enough that Dean decided to pull him up and kiss him and Sam wondered if he could taste himself.

“We can do it again when he leaves, right?” Sam asked, and he knew he sounded young and insecure, but he also knew what he wanted and Dean wouldn’t just give it to him without putting up a fight.

“We can do whatever you want,” Dean promised and kissed him again. Sam just barely managed to stop himself from snorting at the words. If only Dean knew what he was thinking, he wouldn’t be so quick to make promises like that, promises he couldn’t keep.

The second the door closed behind dad, Sam hopped in the shower, excitement and nerves swirling in his stomach. Dean gave him a weird look when Sam practically ran to the bathroom but didn’t say anything, just kept sharpening his knife. Sam could hear him through the wall, singing to whatever was on the radio, Sam didn’t know and didn’t care. He focused on the sound of Dean’s voice as he reached behind himself and pressed his fingertips to his hole, not trying to breach the muscles yet, just testing it out. He breathed shakily, in-out, in-out… It felt like any other part of the body, except for the flood of arousal that hit him, maybe with a pinch of shame thrown into the mix. It was something forbidden, something he wasn’t supposed to want, but was it really so much worse than what they’d already done?

He poured some shower gel onto his fingers and concentrated on Dean’s voice as he pushed one inside. It was… weird. He tried to picture Dean behind him, tried to imagine that it was Dean’s finger inside him. Dean soaking wet and hard, pressing kisses down Sam’s spine and whispering in his ear, voice low like it always got when he was so turned on he could barely speak.

Sam bit on his lip to stifle the groan building in his chest. He wanted it so bad. He knew Dean would probably freak out but as Sam pushed a second finger inside and felt himself clenching around them, it was hard to care. Dean could be convinced and he wanted nothing more than to make Sam happy.

He didn’t even get off, just wrapped a towel around his waist and walked out, water running down his hair and body. Dean looked up from the knife at the sound of the door opening, and just… stopped. Mouth open, eyes wide, he looked frozen in place. Sam felt kind of silly, except he was so turned on, there was hardly any place left for other emotions.

“Bedroom?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Dean’s moan sounded like it’d been forced out of him and then he was right there, locking the door and pushing Sam onto the bed, letting the towel drop to the floor.

“The hell happened in that bathroom?” He asked, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against Sam’s boner almost painfully.

Sam bit his lip and pulled at Dean’s T-shirt. He kissed his neck, running his tongue over the amulet Dean hardly ever took off and running his hands down Dean’s strong arms.

“You know how you said we could do whatever I want?”

Dean hummed and pressed his lips to Sam’s damp shoulder as Sam worked on getting his jeans off. “What do you want, Sammy?”

Sam swallowed. He knew what he wanted and he also knew Dean would probably freak out. Still, if he wanted it to happen, he needed to voice it first and then work on convincing Dean that yes, he really wanted it, he hadn’t gone insane.

“Want you to fuck me.”

Dean froze, his whole body one long stiff line of visibly tense muscles. It felt like forever before he finally looked up at Sam. “Sam…”

“Please. I want it. I trust you. You won’t hurt me. I swear I’ll tell you if I want you to stop but I just… I need this. I wouldn’t let anybody else do this, only you, only want you.”

Dean closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Sam’s. His breath was shaky and his muscles tight but Sam just dug his fingers into his shoulders and kept talking, kept babbling, the words he struggled to find earlier coming out whether he wanted them to or not.

“I won’t force you. If you really don’t want to, it’s okay. I don’t want you to do it just to make me happy. But if this is about this fucked-up need to protect me from yourself, I-” The rest of that sentence got lost against Dean’s mouth.

“Fuck, Sammy, you’re killing me.” He studied Sam for a long moment and Sam didn’t know what he saw in his face but then he was kissing him again, quick and tender, before pulling back, propping himself up on his hands and knees and keeping his weight off Sam. Sam wanted to wrap his arms around him and pull him down but he resisted the impulse, even though it hurt physically to have Dean pulling away, the thought that he’d fucked this up and now Dean would never even touch him again.

“Are you sure about this?” Dean asked.

“What?” He asked stupidly.

Dean chewed on his bottom lip, brows furrowed but his eyes told Sam that he had made up his mind. “Are you sure you want this? Wouldn’t you rather fuck me?”

Sam shook his head, then paused to actually consider it. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. It was an appealing offer, Sam could picture it, but the memory of his own fingers was still fresh and he needed to find out if Dean would feel as good inside him as he imagined. And he wanted to wreck Dean, to have him completely at his mercy and this was the way to do it.

“Want you inside me,” he said and Dean closed his eyes, exhaled shakily and then, after what felt like an eternity nodded.

“Okay.”

He sat back on his hunches and reached for the bedside table where Sam knew he kept the bottle of lube. A square foil landed on the mattress next to his shoulder and Sam picked it up, frowning at the condom.

“Can we…” He trailed off and bit his lip. Dean paused with his jeans halfway down his thighs and a questioning look on his face. “Do we really need a condom?”

Dean pursed his lips and looked like he was going to disagree. Then he frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to use one? It’s gonna get messy.”

“I’m sure.”

He was expecting an argument but Dean just sighed and nodded. “Tell me if you change your mind.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Dean was the first to move, standing up to kick off his jeans and underwear. “This would probably be easier on your stomach.”

Sam bit his lip. He considered arguing but in the end he turned around without a word. He let Dean manhandle him, position him on his knees and elbows, ass up in the air, and feeling a bit too exposed to be fully comfortable, and refused to examine how it made him feel hot all over that Dean was stronger than him.

“Try to relax,” Dean whispered and kissed the back of his neck. His fingers touched the place between his cheeks, cold and wet with lube, and Sam tensed at the unexpected sensation.

“Have you ever done this before?” He asked when Dean applied some pressure to it, not quite enough to push past the resistance yet and Sam found himself rocking back, trying to get Dean inside him.

“Shh…” Dean shushed him but complied. Sam gasped at the feeling, still weird but so much different than when it was his own hand. “With a guy? No.”

“And with a girl?”

“There was this girl in Utah two years back. I didn’t actually do it but she told me about it, said that she liked it.” He cleared his throat and Sam didn’t need to see his face to tell he was embarrassed. “She also said she liked doing it to guys.”

Sam let himself think about it, ignoring the by now familiar pang of jealousy. Dean bent over the foot of some bed, a pretty girl behind him. Knowing Dean, he would deny it afterwards, but he would get off on it so hard.

“Still with me?” Dean asked and Sam realized he’d been making these broken-off moans, face pressed into the pillow, and fucking himself back onto Dean’s fingers - two, when did that happen?

“’Is good,” he managed to say, sounding drugged out.

“You’re so tight. Tighter than any girl.”

“More, Dean, please, I need...”

“Shh… I got you, baby.” Sam shuddered and didn’t even try to hide it. He enjoyed Dean calling him baby more than he could care to admit but Dean sounded wrecked already and Sam couldn’t wait to hear his voice once he finally got his dick inside him.

He wasn’t expecting Dean to move down the bed, spread him open and then press his tongue inside, alongside his fingers. It couldn’t be pleasant, Sam knew lube wasn’t exactly the tastiest thing in the world, but Dean moaned like he loved it, like he got off on it even more than Sam and that was impossible because Sam could’ve sworn he was dying. He had never experienced anything that could even compare to the sensation of Dean fucking him with his tongue and fingers and so clearly getting off on it.

“Need more,” Sam repeated frantically, his hips pushing back, fucking himself back on Dean’s hand and face.

There was no argument, no hesitation. Dean just stroked his hip with his free hand and pushed another finger inside. It was a stretch and it burned a bit but it was good. It didn’t hurt and Sam could feel himself opening up, body relaxing as it got used to the sensation.

“Dean.”

Dean grunted in reply but didn’t pull back to answer verbally, just kept working Sam open and Sam couldn’t take it anymore.

“Dean, gonna come.” And when it became clear Dean didn’t intend to stop, Sam gave up on trying to hold back. One hand tugging at his own hair, the other squeezing his cheek, holding himself open to give Dean easier access, he was way too far gone to feel embarrassed about it or about the inhuman noises coming out of his mouth. Then Dean pressed his tongue deeper inside, twisted his fingers against Sam’s prostate and Sam was coming so hard his balls ached.

He was just vaguely aware of Dean kissing his way back up his spine, fingers still thrusting back and forth inside Sam’s body, short gentle pushes which set off fireworks in Sam’s oversensitive nerves but it still felt so good, just the right side of painful.

“I got you,” Dean whispered. His teeth dragged on the back of Sam’s neck and Sam made a noise which sounded a lot like a whimper. “Shit, Sammy, you’re so hot I can’t…”

“Want you inside. Come on, De. I can take it, just…”

“Okay,” Dean said. Sam couldn’t tell if he meant it or if he was just trying to calm Sam down. “Yeah, okay.”

 Sam didn’t know what he was expecting or why it surprised him but the second Dean pressed the head of his dick against Sam’s hole, Sam was struck by the realization that it was going to feel nothing like his fingers. Dean had used so much lube Sam was dripping, sticky fluid mixed with Dean’s spit running down his crack and balls and onto his thighs. There was a blunt pressure and the stretch was a bit too close to pain to feel entirely comfortable but then Dean’s hand was on his back and he was telling Sam to relax, voice deep and broken and Sam did that. He knew it would be good, he was already getting off on the knowledge of what it was doing to Dean and he wanted more. Dean pushed forward and Sam could pinpoint the exact moment he got the head inside him, felt himself clenching around it, marveling at the unfamiliar sensation of being spread open like that, his body working to accommodate Dean and holy shit Dean was inside him.

“Dean,” he moaned, not recognizing his own voice and Dean groaned in response and pushed deeper inside, deeper than Sam thought was physically possible, and then he bottomed out, hipbones pressing against Sam’s ass and Sam couldn’t breathe.

“Okay?” Dean asked and Sam nodded almost reflexively. It was the strangest feeling ever and he loved every second of it. He wanted to keep Dean inside him forever, just stay like that and never leave.

“You?”

“Not gonna last,” Dean whispered. He leaned forward until his chest was pressed to Sam’s back and then pulled his hips back slowly and pushed back inside at such maddening pace Sam wanted to scream. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“You can go faster,” Sam said when Dean kept thrusting lazily. “Come on, Dean, fuck me like you mean it.”

“Shit, Sammy.”

And then he did, slamming inside Sam so hard Sam had to put one hand up against the wall to stop them both from rocking up the bed with each thrust. Dean’s forehead felt damp against the back of his neck and he was gasping, trying not to make too much noise, not to attract attention, even though they were completely alone. Sam was always surprised by how much he got off on hearing Dean say his name like that, all turned-on and desperate, but it had never been quite like this, all SammySamohmygodsogoodsoperfectbaby, like Dean couldn’t string together a proper sentence when he was balls deep inside him and Sam loved that it was because of him.

Then Dean wrapped his hand around his dick which was hard again, or maybe he’d never gone soft in the first place, and jerked him off, tight and wet, and Sam lost the ability to think about anything else.

The world span around him and it took him way too long to realize Dean had flipped him over.

“Think you can come again?” He asked and Sam nodded without thinking because he was seventeen and this was his greatest fantasy coming to life. Then Dean was spreading his legs until Sam felt the burn in his muscles, and thrusting back inside, slow and shallow, until Sam was grabbing at his shoulder, head thrown back against the pillow, moans getting caught in his throat. It felt like the best kind of torture. He didn’t know where Dean found the strength and self-control to go slow. Sam felt like he was losing his mind. If their roles were reversed, he knew he wouldn’t be able to pull this off, Dean felt huge inside him and Sam had only ever been inside one girl once and it had been tight and hot but he knew it couldn’t even compare to how he must feel around Dean.

He was gasping Dean’s name, trying to fuck himself on his dick but Dean’s hand was strong and heavy around his hipbone, holding him in place, keeping him exactly where Dean wanted him.

“Come on, Sammy. I’m so fucking close. You need to come.”

Sam’s muscles protested when he squeezed his thighs tighter around Dean’s hips but even the burn felt good. Dean rubbed at the tip of his dick and ground against his prostate and just like that Sam was coming again and this time it did hurt, his whole body oversensitive but Dean was still holding back, holding himself right there on the edge and Sam needed him to come. Dean started to pull out and Sam grabbed at his ass before he could even think about what he was doing.

“Sammy, can’t-” He sounded pained. He looked pained, eyes squeezed shut and lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to control himself.

“Come inside me.”

Dean moaned but didn’t even try to argue. His movements were jerky as he thrust inside a couple more times, open mouth pressed to Sam’s shoulder, and then pushed forward as far as he could and groaned low in his throat as he finally came.

“Holy shit, Sam.”

Sam couldn’t help it, he started laughing. “I know.”

Several minutes passed before Dean propped himself up on his hands and pulled out. Sam immediately felt himself get even wetter, everything leaking out of him and onto the already dirty sheets. He shifted on the mattress, hole clenching around nothing. Dean was kneeling between his spread legs, staring at the mess in awe and Sam resisted the impulse to close his legs.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Fuck, Sammy, I…” Instead of finishing the sentence, he reached forward, a dazed expression on his face, and run two fingers up Sam’s crack, gathering up his cum and the lube, and pressed them inside Sam, making him moan weakly. He felt sore and open but he clenched around Dean’s fingers greedily, body trying to pull him back in deeper.

“Sammy.”

Sam laughed, pride and love swelling in his chest at the look of open wonder on Dean’s face. He’d never seen that expression on his brother’s face before, like a little kid on Christmas morning, and he felt dizzy, knowing that he was the one who put it there.

“Dude, you so need to try this,” he said and Dean finally looked up, even as his fingers pressed deeper and against Sam’s oversensitive prostate and if they didn’t stop he’d get hard again and Dean would never let him live it down. “Dean, I swear you have no idea what it feels like.”

“We’ve got the whole night,” Dean said slowly, a smirk spreading on his lips. “Think you’re up for it?”

Sam laughed again, grabbing Dean’s wrist and pulling his fingers out before flipping them over, so that he could lie down on top of him and press his face against Dean’s neck.

“For you always.”