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“Am I speaking to Sam Winchester?” an unfamiliar female voice asked on the phone.
I put the phone on speaker so that I could continue unloading my bookbag. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“I’m Arlene Benedict, the ER charge nurse at Orchard Hospital in Gridley. A Dean Winchester was admitted earlier this afternoon, and you’re listed as his secondary contact—we weren’t able to get in touch with his primary contact, John Winchester.”
I picked up the phone at that. “Dean’s my brother. What happened?”
“From what we were told by the EMTs who brought him in, your brother apparently was helping some hikers who’d gone missing after getting lost in a set of caves near Sutter Butte, and he took a pretty nasty fall while getting them out,” the nurse explained crisply. “He was knocked out and still hasn’t regained consciousness, so it’s likely he has a concussion. He suffered open fractures to both radius and ulna on his right arm and a sprain to his right ankle, as well as numerous cuts and bruises. We cleaned and treated those, and he’s in surgery now to repair the breaks in his forearm bones.”
“Alright, I’m on my way. It’s going to take a few hours to reach Gridley by bus—I’m coming from Palo Alto. Oh, and by the way, can you have someone search the nearest access road to those caves for a black 1967 Chevy Impala, license plate KAZ 2Y5, and have it towed to the closest motel to the hospital? That’s Dean’s car, and he’ll be upset if anything happens to it. Thank you for calling.” I hung up and immediately began packing.
The bus ride to Gridley was long and uneventful, though Arlene did call back to report that my brother was out of surgery and that the Impala had been found and towed to the Gridley Inn. Once I got off the bus, I hoofed it to the hospital and headed straight to the emergency department, where I was informed that Dean had already been moved to the Acute Care Unit.
When I got to the unit, I made a beeline for the nurse’s station. “Hi, I’m looking for Dean Winchester? I’m his brother, Sam.”
“Hello, Sam. I’m Kelly Greene, the nurse in charge of your brother’s care for this shift,” a middle-aged woman in pink scrubs replied. “I can take you back to see him in a few minutes, but I wanted to let you know that the surgery went well, and he regained consciousness while in the recovery room. We’re keeping him here overnight for observation because of the concussion, but if all goes well, we should be able to discharge him tomorrow morning."
I smiled at her gratefully. “That’s great news! Can I see him now?”
She led me to one of the private rooms, where Dean was sitting in bed and flipping through channels on the TV. His right forearm was in a splint, there was a brace on his right ankle, much of the visible skin on his arms and legs was mottled with bruises (and no doubt his torso was just as bad), and the hazy look in his eyes suggested that he was doped up on painkillers. He looked frail and vulnerable, with a sickly cast to his skin, dark circles around his eyes, and a hollowness to his cheeks that hinted that meals hadn’t been that regular lately—not like the brash, larger than life big brother I remembered.
“I’ll leave you two to chat. Visiting hours end at nine PM, so you have about half an hour. You can come back at nine in the morning tomorrow. If either of you needs anything, press the call button.” Kelly nodded to each of us and returned to her station.
Dean put down the remote and scowled. “What are you doing here, Sam?”
“The ER called me about you because they couldn’t get a hold of Dad—no surprise there!” I responded. “So I took the next bus here since I knew that between the concussion, sprained ankle, and broken arm, you won’t be able to take care of yourself for a while.”
“And how does that matter to you? ‘Cause the last time you deigned to talk to me, you said you didn’t want anything to do with a loser like me, since I was just a drop-out and criminal who was gonna end up dead or in jail sooner or later. So I’ve done exactly what you asked and left you alone in your yuppie paradise for the past six months and instead have been ‘wasting my time’ saving people and doing some actual good!” he retorted with a sneer.
I winced. “Yeah, I did say that, and I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have been so harsh. But you’re still my brother, and I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself in this condition.”
“Don’t bother. I can call Caleb or Lee to come pick me up and take me to Pastor Jim’s place to recuperate. So you can head back to your precious school with a clear conscience,” he said dismissively.
“It’ll take either of them hours, if not days, to get here—assuming they can even leave whatever they’re currently doing right away—and then it’s another two days at least to Blue Earth. Meanwhile, I’m already here, and it’s less than a four-hour drive in the Impala to my apartment—and yes, your beloved car is safe in the parking lot of the motel I’ll be spending the night at,” I pointed out. “Now that that’s settled, you obviously weren’t exploring those caves for fun, so this had to be a hunt. Something that lairs underground and keeps its prey alive for a while . . . it was a wendigo, right?”
“Yeah, it was,” he admitted begrudgingly. “Trust your nerd brain to remember that shit after almost three years!”
“What the hell was Dad thinking, letting you go after that thing alone?” I demanded. “For that matter, where is he?”
“I’ve been, uh, hunting solo for a few months now. Dad thought we could cover more ground if we split up, so he left.” For a moment, Dean’s eyes had the same desolate look as the night I’d left for Stanford, and I silently cursed our father—and myself. “Anyway, he told me ‘bout a week ago that he’d found a lead on Mom’s killer and would hafta go dark for a while, and then I caught wind of this case a coupla days later.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged. “The usual—reports of a buncha hikers and campers gone missing, claw marks on nearby trees, and records showing that the same thing had happened every twenty-seven years, so it wasn’t hard to figure out. I put together a flamethrower, got a geographical survey of the mountain, and searched for its hidey-hole in the area where all the disappearances overlapped. Taking out the wendigo wasn’t so bad—I caught it by surprise and lit the bastard up, then freed the victims from its larder. We made it outta the cave, but part of the trail gave way as we headed down, and I went ass over teakettle. Guess I was lucky I didn’t get more fucked up, huh?”
“Yeah, lucky,” I muttered, as I was reminded of one of the reasons why I’d left in the first place and later pushed my brother away. “Okay, I’ve got to leave in a couple minutes, but I’ll be back in the morning, and we can see how soon they’ll release you. I’ll bring you a change of clothes, since what you were wearing before is probably trashed. If you need anything tonight, call me—the motel’s just down the road.”
He eyed me doubtfully but nodded, and I left after rummaging through the bag of his personal effects to snag the car keys. A fifteen-minute walk brought me to the Gridley Inn, where as promised, the Impala was parked by the manager’s office. I got a room, dropped off my bag, and went to the taqueria next door to pick up dinner, then returned to the motel for the night.
I arrived at the hospital the next morning just as the attending physician finished examining Dean and determined that he was safe to be discharged, as long as someone else drove him home. Per her instructions, driving in general was off the table until his dizziness and blurred vision subsided, as was heavy lifting with his right arm for four to six weeks, which was also how long he’d have to wear the splint. Once he was dressed and we’d received prescriptions for antibiotics and painkillers and a list of motion exercises for his forearm, wrist, and elbow, we were able to leave.
“Drop me off at the motel, and then you can catch the bus back to Stanford,” he ordered as soon as we got into the car.
“What? You can’t seriously think you can stay here all alone!” I exclaimed. “You’re coming with me so I can help you until you’re back on your feet.”
“I can take care of myself, just like I’ve been doing for most of my damn life! There’s a drug store and supermarket just up the street from the motel and plenty of food joints within walking distance, so I’ll be fine. It’s certainly a helluva lot better than waiting until you fucking go off on me again and kick me out on my ass!” he retorted heatedly.
I cringed inwardly, because there was hurt as well as anger in those expressive green eyes. “Listen, I really am sorry, man, and I didn’t mean what I said about you. You’re not a loser or any of the rest of that crap—in fact, I’ve looked up to you my entire life because you’ve always been there for me. But I just . . . I couldn’t handle having you around anymore, so I deliberately picked that fight to drive you away.”
“Why the hell did you do that?”
“Because . . . because it got to be too much, seeing the person I love the most getting hurt, not knowing if the next hunt would be your last. It was bad enough when it was Dad hunting on his own, but when you got old enough to join him, I used to get sick with worry until you both came back. That was one of the reasons I left, to get away from all that, but you kept coming by covered in cuts, bruises, and worse, and . . . and I finally lost it,” I told him, my voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly, but I couldn’t take it anymore, and I knew you’d never willingly give up hunting.”
“So then what’s going on now—you feeling sorry ‘cause I got more banged up than usual? Well, fuck off, ‘cause I don’t need your goddamn pity!” Dean snapped.
“This isn’t about pity, okay? I . . . I realized after a while that I’d screwed up, that not knowing what was happening to you, whether you were even still alive, was worse than seeing you injured . . . and I—I missed you. The problem was that I was too ashamed of what I’d done and too afraid that you hated me now, so I kept making excuses instead of reaching out to you,” I admitted. “I thought long and hard though on the bus ride up here, and I decided I needed to get over myself and focus on taking care of you—so even if you do hate me, I’m not taking No for an answer!”
Some of the stiffness went out of his shoulders. “I don’t hate you, Sam. You’re my little brother, and nothing’s gonna change that. I don’t get why you couldn’t just tell me what was wrong though, instead of turning it into a giant clusterfuck!”
“You’re right, I was being a total dumbass. In my defense though, no one in this family is particularly good at talking about their feelings,” I said ruefully as we pulled out of the parking lot.
***
The trip back to Palo Alto was less tedious than the one out, even with my brother being asleep most of the time, since I’d rarely had the chance to drive the Impala when I was younger. Once we arrived, I parked in the small lot next to my building and helped him up the stairs to the second floor, given that he wasn’t used to navigating with the cane the hospital had provided. I left him by the door to my apartment in order to get our bags out of the car and hurried back.
“Huh, this place looks a lot homier than the last time I was here,” he commented after following me inside.
We walked down the short hallway, past the bathroom on one side and built-in desk on the other, and Dean stopped to survey the small L-shaped kitchen, dining set with four chairs and drawers in the base of the table, ugly but comfortable sofa, storage coffee table, and TV console. Sheer curtains muted the light coming in from the two large windows, a few art prints decorated the beige walls, and colorful throw rugs covered much of the old hardwood floors. A tall set of open bookcases separated the living area from the sleeping space, which held a California king-sized storage bed, nightstand, and double closet.
“I managed to ingratiate myself with the owners of a nearby consignment shop by fixing their computer issues, so they gave me a pretty good deal on the furniture, though I did splurge on a new mattress,” I responded, dropping the bags by the couch. “So yeah, I haven’t been living out of a sleeping bag and a bunch of milk crates for a while now.”
“I guess you like finally having a bed that your feet don’t dangle off of!” he noted as he made his way into the sleeping nook. He picked up a framed photo of the two of us sitting on the Impala and laughing, taken when I was in my early teens, from the nightstand and smiled.
“You’ll take the bed because you need it more, and don’t bother arguing,” I told him. “I’ll pick up an air mattress or cot and set it up out here.”
He smirked at me. “Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that! Seriously though, don’t sweat the sleeping arrangements. That bed’s more than big enough for both of us, and it ain’t like we’ve never shared one before.”
“Uh, okay.” I coughed, hoping he didn’t notice the flush in my cheeks. “I’m going to head to the supermarket to fill your prescriptions and pick up more groceries, since what’s here isn’t enough for two. Will you be okay until I get back?”
Dean waved me off, and I left him ensconced on the sofa with the TV remote while I ran my errands. On the way back, I picked up a pizza since I wasn’t up to cooking dinner, which we devoured while watching reruns of Xena. Afterward I helped him clean his wounds with holy water and a healing salve (recipe courtesy of a white witch Pastor Jim knew), then I worked on my neglected homework from the previous day while he figured out how to use my refurbished Xbox. He still wasn’t as relaxed around me as he used to be, but otherwise the evening felt similar to those we’d shared before I left for college. Eventually we called it a night, stripped down to t-shirts and underwear, and took turns washing up in the bathroom before crawling in on opposite sides of the bed and falling asleep.
I woke up early the next morning to find myself curled around my brother, with one arm wrapped around his broad chest and an urgent erection pressing against his lush ass, much to my chagrin. Fortunately he was still dead to the world, since he preferred to sleep in if given a choice, so I carefully rolled away and got up, then hurried to deal with my morning wood in the bathroom, jacking off to fantasies of his full lips wrapped around my cock. Before going on my run, I set the coffee maker to brewing and came back to a sleep-rumpled Dean filling his mug and putting bread in the toaster, so I shooed him out of the kitchen and whipped up some scrambled eggs to go with the toast.
“I’ve got three classes today and a work-study shift at the library, so I won’t be back until after five. If you need anything, call me—I can be here in ten minutes,” I said after showering and getting dressed. “Don’t spend too much time on the TV, because that could aggravate your concussion, and keep your arm elevated as much as possible.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not a little kid, dude, and this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll be fine here while you get your nerd on. Now scram!”
I grinned and flipped him off, then grabbed my bookbag and left for school. The shower was running when I got back that afternoon, so I dropped my bag on the desk and went to the kitchen to figure out dinner. I didn’t cook often—most days it was easier to eat at one of the dining halls or cafés on campus—but I had taught myself a few simple recipes. For tonight, I pulled out ground beef, spaghetti noodles, and spaghetti sauce and got to work.
I’d just drained the spaghetti when Dean emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his lean hips and the arm splint and ankle brace in his good hand, and I couldn’t stop staring. Water had darkened the tousled spikes of his hair to a polished bronze, and a few stray drops trickled down over the firm muscles and fair skin of his torso. The towel was slung low enough to reveal the upper part of his Adonis belt and treasure trail, both of which led tantalizingly down to what lay hidden under the damp fabric, and what blood that hadn’t rushed down to my groin pounded in my ears.
“Hey! Earth to Sam! Is anyone there?” He waved a hand in my direction.
I shook my head to clear it and blushed. “Uh, sorry! What were you saying?”
“Could you help me get these on?” He held the splint and brace up. “Taking ‘em off one-handed wasn’t much of a problem, but putting ‘em back on is gonna need two.”
“Yeah, sure. Uh, sit on the couch, and I’ll be over in a moment.” I quickly dumped the noodles into the meat sauce and stirred them together, then surreptitiously adjusted myself before joining my brother.
“Are you okay, man?” he asked as he held his right arm out, with the line of the sutured incision running down the middle of his forearm.
“Yeah, uh, it’s no big deal. I—I didn’t have time to grab lunch, so I guess I’m a little spacey right now.” I avoided meeting his gaze and instead concentrated on fastening the splint around his arm and brace around his ankle. “Alright, you should be good to go.”
He eyed me a little suspiciously before rising and limping to the bedroom space. I returned to the kitchen and scooped the noodles and sauce onto two plates, which I placed on the dining table with a couple of sodas. Dean came out shortly after, dressed in a Metallica t-shirt and sweatpants, and took a seat, and we dug in.
“Not bad, Sammy!” he said after a few bites, and the approval in his voice gave me a warm feeling. “You got a lot of studying to do tonight?”
“Yeah, probably several hours’ worth, since I have to make up for the classes I missed yesterday,” I replied. “Before I get busy with that, will you need anything else?”
“Yeah, could you help me with shaving after this?” He looked embarrassed. “I’d probably make a mess of my face if I try to do it with my left hand, so . . .”
“Sure, no problem, dude.”
Once we finished eating and I put the dishes in the sink to soak, I followed my brother into the bathroom. He sat on the toilet, and I first wet his lower face and neck with a damp washcloth and spread shaving cream over the moistened skin. I then leaned in and began carefully gliding the razor over his cheeks, chin, and jaw, rinsing the blades after each stroke. I could feel his steady gaze on me as I worked, his breathing had quickened, and a blush stained his cheeks, though his expression remained stoic whenever I glanced up, and the proximity and intimacy weren’t helping my composure either. After the last of the stubble was gone, I cleaned away the remaining foam with the washcloth and dabbed some aftershave on his now smooth skin.
I straightened and cleared my throat. “Alright, you’re done.”
He stood and stepped around me to look in the mirror. “Nice job! Thanks, man.”
He left the room after patting my shoulder, though I needed a couple of minutes to calm myself before following. The next few hours were devoted to catching up on required readings and starting a paper for my Poli-Sci class, while Dean split his time between watching a mind-numbingly bad monster movie on Sci-Fi Channel and reading my copy of A Storm of Swords. When my homework was done, I joined him on the couch, and after yanking the remote away from him, we settled in to watch The Matrix Reloaded.
He stretched once the movie was over, drawing my eyes to the flash of skin revealed when his shirt rode up. “Man, I’m beat! I’m gonna get spoiled here, what with having three squares and a full night’s sleep on the regular and lounging around all day.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Dee, even if it’s not under the best circumstances. It hasn’t been the same, not having you around,” I told him with a soft smile. “Don’t get me wrong, my roommates in freshman and sophomore year were nice guys, but living with them never felt right—it was like . . . the way they breathed while they slept or brushed their teeth or ate their food was just wrong. So then I got this studio apartment to finally have some privacy, but that wasn’t any better, because everything was too silent and still . . . and I made it even worse when I drove you away.”
He grinned and threw an arm around my shoulders. “Well, I’m glad you finally figured out how lame and boring your life is without my awesomeness around, bitch.”
I gave him a playful shove in return. “Jerk!”
He ambled away to get ready for bed, and I tidied up the living area and washed the dishes. By the time I came to bed, he was already asleep, sprawled on his stomach with one hand under the pillow. I quietly slipped in on my side and fell asleep feeling content.
***
The next couple of days passed in a similar fashion. I’d wake up wrapped around my brother, go on my morning run, go to classes and work, make dinner for the both of us, study, and hang out together watching movies, playing games, or simply talking. Between the rest and the regular applications of holy water and salve, Dean was soon looking much better—bruises and dizziness virtually gone, cuts healing, vision back to normal, and pain in his ankle and arm noticeably less, as well as putting on a bit of much needed weight and losing the dark circles around his eyes and wan complexion. Having him so close by brought its own complications, particularly given his lack of modesty, so my right hand got more of a workout than usual.
Dean was feeling stir-crazy by the time Friday evening rolled around, so we decided to meet some friends of mine at a nearby bar. As we walked over, I could tell he was kind of nervous about what they’d think of him, so I bumped his shoulder reassuringly. The bar wasn’t too crowded when we arrived, so it was easy to find the table that Brady, Becky, and Zach had claimed.
Brady stood a little unsteadily, clearly already on his way to being wasted, and waved as we made our way over. “Sam, good to see you! Who’s your friend?”
“Guys, this is Dean. Dean, this is Becky Warren, her brother Zach, and Tyson Brady.” I gestured to each of them in turn.
“Whoa, dude, what happened to you?” Zach exclaimed, taking in Dean’s cast, cane, couple of visible cuts, and fading bruises.
Becky rolled her eyes. “Please excuse my idiot brother, who was clearly raised by wolves. Sam’s told us so much about you, so it’s great to finally meet you in person! I hope you’re feeling better.”
“Took a nasty tumble while hiking,” my brother replied as he took a seat. “It’s not so bad now, but you shoulda seen how I looked when Sam picked me up from the hospital a few days ago!”
“He’s crashing with me until he’s back on his feet, so I thought it would be good to introduce him to you losers,” I added before sitting next to him.
“Lemme go get another round for everyone. C’mon, man!” Brady grabbed Zach by the arm and dragged him in the direction of the bar.
Dean stood as well. “While they’re doing that, I’m gonna see if there’s anything decent on that jukebox. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he was out of earshot, Becky leaned toward me. “Wow, you’re right—he’s definitely the hottest guy I’ve ever seen! Are you going to tell him how you feel?”
“It’s complicated, Becks. Please don’t say anything to him!” I pleaded with flushed cheeks. I hadn’t mentioned to my friends that Dean was my brother, and it would be more than awkward if they found out.
Dean wandered back as Enter Sandman began to play over the ambient noise, and Brady and Zach returned shortly after with a tray full of bottles of Yuengling and shots of Jameson. Everyone grabbed one of each, and Zach regaled us with stories of the fraternity he was pledging. Not to be outdone, Dean countered with tales of his own youthful misadventures after our food order arrived, edited of course to leave out any supernatural elements.
“Hey, there’s someone over there I want you to meet!” Brady abruptly yanked me to my feet and tugged me away, weaving around the other tables until we were in front of a tall, attractive blonde who’d just come in. “Sam, this is Jess Moore. She’s in my Econ class, and I think you two will really hit it off. Ciao!”
Jess smiled. “Hi Sam. You must be the friend Tyson keeps telling me about.”
“Uh, I guess so. Listen, I’m sorry, but could we maybe do this some other time?” I asked, feeling rather awkward. “A close friend that I haven’t seen in a while is visiting, so I don’t want to ditch him.”
“Oh, sure. Here, take my number and call me when you’re free.” She pulled a pen out of her handbag and wrote her number on a napkin.
I nodded and stuck the napkin in my pocket, then headed back to our table. Dean glanced at me curiously as I dropped down beside him, and Brady side-eyed me for returning so soon. I shrugged at both of them before rejoining the conversation, which was now about the worst professors we’d had.
“What was that about? Your buddy Brady looked like someone had pissed in his Cheerios when you came back only a coupla minutes after he’d hauled you off,” Dean commented when we were walking back to my building an hour or so later.
“I’m not sure. He was trying to introduce me to this girl from one of his classes, but he’s never tried to play matchmaker before with any of us,” I answered.
“Was there something wrong with this chick? Not your type?”
“No, she’s really pretty, and she’s probably nice too, but I didn’t come there to hook up. This is the first time we’ve gone out together in way too long, so I wanted to spend my time with you,” I explained.
He looked first surprised and then pleased. “Huh! Well, thanks, man.”
It wasn’t all that late (at least by Winchester standards) when we got to my apartment, so we grabbed some El Sols from the fridge and flopped on the sofa. We were both only a little tipsy at this point, because I’d been careful not to drink too much at the bar and my brother had inherited Dad’s alcohol tolerance, enough to loosen us up but not impair anything. I quickly got distracted by the sight of his throat as he tipped his head back to drink and of his lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle.
“Yo, Sam! Anyone home?” He poked me with an elbow. “What’s got you so spaced out lately? Have you been holding out on me ‘bout a secret stash of good weed or something?”
Emboldened by liquid courage, I decided Fuck it, leaned over, and planted my lips on his. He froze in surprise for a moment, then proceeded to kiss back, his lips opening up under mine and his tongue slipping into my mouth.
Dean’s face wore a wide grin when we eventually came up for air. “Took you long enough, man!”
“Wait, are you telling me you’ve been parading around in just a towel or underwear on purpose?” I punched his arm (the intact one) lightly in outrage. “Why didn’t you say something, you asshole!”
“I couldn’t do that, ‘cause I’m the big brother here. You had to make the first move, Sammy, so I could be sure you really want this,” he explained.
“Dude, I’ve been fantasizing about you since my very first wet dream! You’ve been my hero since I was a little kid, and when I got older, I realized that you’re also the most beautiful person I’ve ever known,” I told him. “I assumed that you didn’t feel the same way, that you only saw me as your scrawny, nerdy kid brother, so I hid my feelings as best I could.”
“Is that another reason why you wanted to get away from me?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, my shoulders hunched in shame. “I hoped that if I put some distance between us, I could get over what I thought was a sick crush on my own brother. But it didn’t go away, and at some point I realized that this was more than simple lust, that I was in love with you. I—I’m sorry I didn’t think about how you’d feel and hurt you by pushing you away.”
“Water under the bridge, kiddo. All that matters now is we’re together. Now c’mon.” He pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand, then led me into the sleeping nook after I took it. “Have you done this before—slept with a guy?”
“Yeah, I’ve dated a couple of guys. Apparently I have a type—tall, sandy hair, fair skin, cocky attitude,” I replied with a wry smile.
Dean stepped closer and tugged my head down for another tongue-laden kiss, while I slid my hands under his shirt and up his back. He then sat at the foot of the bed and attacked the fastenings on my jeans, so I got with the program and yanked off my shirts. Once I was down to my boxers, I helped him get out of his clothes as well, and he pushed himself up to the middle of the bed, where I joined him. We resumed our passionate kissing and let our hands roam, caressing smooth skin and strong muscles, toying with sensitive nipples, and fondling firm buttocks.
After several enjoyable minutes of this, I shoved my boxers and his boxer-briefs down to mid-thigh, removed the bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer, slotted our stiff cocks together, and slicked them up. I then wrapped my hands around our shafts and started jerking them off, while my brother commenced rolling his hips to slide his member against mine. We were soon panting and groaning in pleasure, and first he stiffened with a cry as his cum spurted over my fingers, then I shot my load moments later. We fell back breathing heavily, and I pulled my boxers off to wipe my hands on them.
“Fuck, that was awesome!” He grinned up at me.
I leaned over to kiss him. “We’re not done yet!”
We kissed for a little longer, then I sat up, slid his boxer-briefs off, and settled between his sprawled legs. I reached up to tweak his perky nipples before dragging my fingers down to his groin, where I curled one hand around his dusky cock to slowly stroke him back to hardness and reached the other down to play with his heavy balls. Once he was fully erect and leaking plenty of pre-cum, I drew a couple of fingers down his perineum and around the pink furl of his entrance, then pushed the tip of one inside.
“Wait, did you prep yourself?” I asked in surprise when I discovered he was already wet.
Dean nodded. “In the shower before we went out—I wanted to be ready, just in case . . .”
He then gasped and arched his back as I inserted the finger in deeper to press against his prostate and continued rubbing against it until he was writhing and keening. I removed my finger and reached again into the drawer to pull out a condom. “Do we need this? I’ve always used protection.”
“Me too—no glove, no love—so I’m clean too. So stop dicking around and fuck me!” he ordered.
I laughed. “So bossy!”
Before he could decide to beat me to death with a pillow, I drizzled some lube onto my cock, then pressed past the tight ring of muscle and into his hot channel until I was fully sheathed. I paused to let him adjust, and to marvel at being inside my brother’s snug depths, which I’d never believed would ever happen, until he wriggled impatiently, so I began driving into him with long, steady strokes, grazing his sweet spot on every second or third pass. He in turn threw his good leg over my hip and rocked his pelvis in time with my thrusts, with his splinted arm lying above his head and the other hand braced against my chest.
We moved together for an untold length of time, moaning and calling out each other’s name. Eventually my passion started to crest, so I reached down to jack his cock, which was enough to tip him over the edge. As he shook through his orgasm and his hole clenched around my member, I managed to plunge into his velvety passage a few more time before climaxing with a shout. I collapsed onto the pillows, still tangled together with my brother, and pulled him close.
“Damn, that was fucking amazing!” Dean declared as he nestled into my side. “How’re you doing, Sammy?”
“Like I don’t ever want to wake up from this dream, Dee,” I said, pressing a kiss into his temple. “It always felt as though something was missing from the life I’ve been trying to build here, but now I’m finally home.”