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Like They Do on the Discovery Channel by sdwbf
The fight ending with Dean slammed up against then bent over the hood of his beloved Impala didn't surprise him. Nor did the grabby hands yanking down his jeans and boxers. He did snarl, "Lube, bitch!" when big hands settled on his hips with no indication prepping him was on the agenda. Again, not a surprise, hence, "Front pocket!"
Another set of hands fumbled with the denim bunched around his thighs, then passed it to one of the hands that deigned to lift off his hips. He got one damned cold glop of lube – made him yelp, then curse – squirted on his hole. And so much for foreplay, because one huge and determined length shoved right on in. Dean owed the fact that the taking of the last virginity he could ever lay claim to involved no blood to his own fingering less than two hours ago. Yeah, none of this was a surprise. And that he owed to the freaking Discovery Channel.
Five Months Ago
Too grief-stricken to feel much more than numb, Dean drove down the highway toward Indiana. He didn't know what else to do but keep his promise to Sam and try to have a 'normal' life with Lisa and Ben, but the longer he drove the more doubts plagued him. Once upon a time he'd had a great weekend of sex with Lisa, and he really liked her kid, Ben. Had even thought/hoped he was his once, but … He didn't know them all that well. Didn't love either of them as more than a concept, and he had to admit the Ben-son thing was more attractive to him than a relationship with Lisa.
Then there were all the 'things that went bump in the night' out there with good reason to hate him. Maybe even come after him like the ghouls had gone after Adam and his mom because Dad had killed their father. Did he dare risk exposing two civilians to that? Especially since he knew there was no way he wasn't going to try to get his brothers out of that freaking cage. So why was he driving toward a life he only wanted in theory to fulfill one promise while planning to break the other? Made no sense and in the end, Lisa and Ben would be the ones to end up paying for it. So, no.
He did a 180 at the next exit and arrived back at Stull Cemetery around 3 in the morning. He couldn't have said exactly why he was here. Any answers had to be lost in some old archive. Hell, it made more sense to head for Bobby's to enlist his help and library. Instead he sat down a few inches from where the hole to the cage had temporarily existed and said, "Please, give them back."
Over and over he repeated the phrase. Never yelled, never ranted or raved. Merely chanted the words. After a couple of hours or so he lost his voice, but kept the chant going in his mind. With a will and focus that would have impressed a Buddhist monk, he sat there. 24 hours, 36, 40, then exactly two full days after the ground had opened and stolen his life, it split apart again with a rumble and a flash of light.
Dean kept chanting, not stopping until Sam and Adam appeared before him, then the ground resealed. He smiled at his brothers, whispered, "Thank you," and passed out.
*
Like his half-brothers, Adam Milligan had done the dead and resurrected thing, but unlike them, he'd had a normal existence before the ghouls had showed up. Kid had even been in medical school. Dean would have loved to give him that back, but all the transcripts, grades, admissions had huge 'deceased' stamped all over them.
Given Adam's whole deal with the angels had revolved around being reunited with his mother in Heaven and he'd spent almost a week Hell-time locked in a cage with a pissed off Michael and Lucifer, Dean figured he'd have to put the kid on a suicide watch. Except, not so much.
From his own experiences downstairs, Dean knew a few minutes in the Pit could result in enough horror to give someone PTSD for years, but both Adam and Sam seemed fine. They laughed easily, joked around and generally seemed to be enjoying life in sunny Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Was freaking bizarre. Sure, he didn't really know spit about Adam, but his emo-princess of an overgrown little brother he knew like a book. And, yeah, none of this shit made any sense. Also, it pissed him off.
The two of them had apparently declared themselves BFFs and seemed joined at the hip. Hey, Dean was the one who had raised Sam; had always been there for him; and had forgiven his lying, demon-blood-addicted ass post-Ruby. And what did it get him? Squat. Unless they were eating a meal – which Dean cooked 99.9 percent of the time – they ignored him. Like they had some exclusive club or something and he wasn't a member. Made him want to jump up and down screaming he'd been to Hell, too, so why couldn't he join? So yeah, pissed off. And maybe a little nuts.
He spent three whole months simmering through, 'Hey, Dean, turns out Adam's a great shot, fighter, researcher, etc. fucking etc.' – 'Nah, you're just a great teacher, Sam' exchanges. All while he kept the salvage yard going as well as manned the phones because not every hunter had decided it was vacation time. Those still out their needed their fake credentials confirmed, research done and rare shit tracked down (once literally, because a spell had required kola crap.) At least the dynamic duo was willing to pitch in on the research/tracking down stuff, because Dean had his hands full. Salvage yard, phones, feeling sorry for himself, it took a lot of hours out of the day to deal.
Funny how quick those became the good old days. Halfway through month four Sam and Adam started … competing. Apparently Adam had gotten some sort of 'instant hunter' mojo somewhere among his resurrection, possession by Michael and two-way trip to Hell. Despite his funk over brotherly rejection, Dean noticed it pretty quick and had more than one sarcastic 'right' thought about Sam's teaching ability. Took Princess Samantha right up to the second where Adam out shot him. (For the record, neither of the bitches could touch Dean's skill with a gun.)
With one target practice session, Sam went from supportive to 'determined to squash Adam like a bug.' Except he couldn't. Sam was stronger, but like Dean, Adam had more skill as a fighter. Sam was better with a blade, but not with a gun. Both rattled off the dead languages easily enough, and had nerd-ninja levels of skill at researching. Dean knew all of this because for some freaking reason they insisted on him judging every stupid competition. Half the time he got fed up and kicked both their asses at what they were trying to do because he was just awesome like that (except he let them have their nerd-props.) That always cooled his temper, but made them sulk.
Then there was the weird shit whenever they went into town. They wouldn't freaking leave him alone. One or the other was practically plastered to his side, and he had the weirdest feeling they were taking turns on 'Dean-duty.' And it was some sort of duty because they practically attacked anyone else who came within two feet of him. Sam had actually bared his teeth at the owner of the hardware store and the dude was practically eighty! What the fuck? Had they missed the part where he could out shoot, and out fight both their pathetic asses?
And restaurants. Don't get him started on restaurants. They always sat on either side of him, preferably in a round booth so they could trap him in the middle. He freaking hated that! And damn, they were touchy-feely. Hand around his shoulders, hand on the small of his back, grip on his arm, even his freaking hip! He even got the impression more than once that he'd almost been kissed. What the Hell? Seriously, what the Hell?
He snapped on the same Saturday afternoon he finally got some answers. The phones were quiet and Dean wanted to channel surf all afternoon. Except his battling brothers were all 'sit with me, Dean,' and kept trying to pull him into one of their stupid laps. He growled and dropped onto the sofa. Instantly he had a brother on either side glaring at each other. Awsome.
Then they started squabbling over getting him a beer. He didn't mind that so much. Or when they brought him snacks, but they got into a shoving match over who got to claim the idea for pie and a plate of flaky cherry goodness died a horrible death on the floor. "That's it!" Dean roared. "Both of you, out of here now before I go postal on your asses!"
Having committed sacrilege against pie, they got out. Fast. At least the bitches had some sense left. Grumbling Dean cleaned up the mess and mournfully dropped the defiled pie into the trash basket. Been the last piece, too. He glared at the door. If they knew what was good for them, neither would show his face again without offerings of fresh crust and fruit filling.
He dropped back onto the couch, snatching up the remote. Took him several dozen clicks to find something worth watching, but a blizzard raising havoc on The Discovery Channel finally caught his eye. The 'up next' promise of a special on mating habits made him smirk, so he didn't bother to change the station when the 'weather gone wild' fun ended.
Contrary to the impression he liked to give others, Dean was smart, so the program hadn't gotten too far into a section about males trying to attract potential mates when warning bells started going off in his head. But, no. They couldn't be … But. Fuck. Both his brothers wanted to fuck him.
This raised an important question. "Why the hell am I the girl!?!" he demanded, full of righteous indignation. He was the older brother. If anyone should be fucking anyone, he should – Oh, for fuck's sake! These were his little brothers going at it like two stags locking horns over a bitch in heat, and he was worried about his freaking image?
He took a deep swig of his beer and tried to focus. His thoughts didn't want to go anywhere but freaky places, so he settled on watching some more of the program. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his own oversexed and highly frustrated body was making perverted assumptions over innocent sibling rivalry. Yeah, that had to be it. Despite letting Sam think otherwise, he hadn't been able to get it up for months after he'd returned from his own stint in Hell. He'd tried a few times, and he'd made sure the gal involved had a good enough time to keep his rep in one piece, but no. And by the time 'little Dean' got over the Hell-shit, the Apocalypse came along like another ultimate cold shower. So yeah, two years and counting with no action could warp a man's mind. But what if it hadn't? What if …?
By the time his brothers returned – both pie in hand – Dean had put his freak out on hold and decided to try something subtle. When two plates of pie – one with apple, one with peach – were set in front of him, he looked up at the bestowers of yummy goodness and smiled. Nothing unusual, pie always earned whoever brought it eye contact and a grin. But this time, he looked up through his eyelashes and kept the smile close to shy. Hey, he could do shy!
Hips shifted, he caught the distinct impression of cocks twitching, then both brothers fled. Son of a bitch.
*
But okay, maybe that worked because no way he was choosing between them. He nearly choked on his morning caffeine-fix when his mind clicked on what not choosing might mean.
Okay, time to freak out. Seriously. He fled to the garage area and began ripping apart engines until he calmed down enough for more intricate work. He was actually considering this. Not just incest, but three-way incest. Did they make a special hell special enough for that? No. Just no. This had to stop. And as oldest, it was his job to stop it.
Except the bitches kept bringing him things. A thermos of coffee from Sam because he'd noticed Dean hadn't finished his cup. Adam made and delivered a tasty sandwich at lunchtime. They showed up together with brownies and more coffee in the afternoon. Each time Dean had been unable to stop a smile, the brightest rewarding they're working together. Figured he only had himself to blame when they both stole a good-night kiss.
*
They used the video conferencing software Sam had set up to talk with him once a week, so there hadn't really been a reason to suspect any bombshell announcements. At least none beyond his not having come home. And yeah, that was the announcement. He wasn't. He'd bumped into an old friend. The blonde, curvy sort. And they'd hit it off. Rekindled the spark was the way Bobby put it. He said he figured he'd done his bit, and he was still available if they needed him, but a lawyer friend was going to transfer the house and salvage yard to Dean and Sam.
"Bobby, it's too much-" he started.
"Don't be an idjit, boy," Bobby said, his voice an affectionate growl. "Way too many secrets on that property for me to ever sell it, and who else am I going to give it to but my boys?"
He noticed Sam swallowing around what was probably a lump in his throat similar to the one in Dean's. Adam gripped each of their shoulders and for a moment Dean worried he felt left out, but it and the smile Adam gave him, was supportive, not threatened. That quiet presence comforted him and Sam while they said their goodbyes to a man who was all but a father to them. Sure, they'd talk with Bobby at least once every week or so as long as they were all alive, but the odds were low they'd ever meet face-to-face again. Made Dean's heart ache, and his eyes stung with tears. Could see a similar shimmer in Sam's eyes, and neither of them resisted when Adam pulled them up into an embrace the moment the call ended.
They all clung to each other for a long time, then Adam pressed a kiss to both their foreheads and they all let go, because Bobby wasn't dying. He was happy, and yeah, thinking that made Dean smile. No one deserved a break and a shot at a good life more than Bobby.
"I'll make some coffee," Adam said. "With a shot of whiskey."
"Sounds good," Dean said, letting the warmth he felt for his youngest brother fill his smile.
"So does pie," Sam announced, then leaned down to brush his lips across Dean's. He glanced toward the kitchen. "You always were the smartest one."
Dean watched Sam walk away, and it occurred to him that the only living person whose opinion he gave a damned about was now too far away to ever find out the truth. They could do this.
*
His sense of self rattled and all of Sam's potshots about 'over-compensation' coming home to roost, he didn't sleep much. Around 5 he gave up entirely and went downstairs to make breakfast.
He'd put a couple of batches of pancakes in the oven to keep them warm, then poured a third onto the griddle, when Sam stepped up behind him. Those gigantic arms wrapped around him, pulling him back against a brick wall of a chest. He'd raised this man, been father and mother as well as brother to him. He shouldn't want him, yet he groaned softly, arching his spine to press his ass to Sam's groin while baring his throat to Sam's lips.
Sam made a meal out of his neck until the pancakes needed turning, then he gently, but firmly pushed Dean into Adam's arms. Not as strong or as big, but still a man, it was easier and harder to let his youngest brother guide him over to a chair, then pull Dean down to straddle his lap. Swollen cocks pressed together, and Adam gripped his ass as he took his turn biting and nibbling at Dean's neck. No long history of emotional baggage with this one, but he was young and only one step away from a normal life. Dean was his big brother, should be helping him find a way to get what he'd lost back, yet he did nothing but moan his encouragement.
Simple enough to know what would happen next, but nothing was ever simple for a Winchester. The closest thing Bobby had to an emergency line rang. Twenty minutes later they were in the Impala heading west.
*
Fortunately the vengeful spirit had broken Markum's left leg and his truck was an automatic. Let him get himself the hell out of town after he briefed them on the case. Info was only useful in where not to look since he'd been on the trail of the wrong grave. As evidenced by the cast.
They set up shop in a motel on the opposite side of town from where Markum had stayed. Even had time to do a few interviews before nightfall. Went with a freelance writers cover since there were far too many special agents in the area to risk that. Easy, familiar until it was time to get some sleep and Sam reached for him with intent in his eyes.
"No." Dean's voice was firm, unyielding because they could not lose that much focus. The spirit had already killed eleven people and had done its best to add Markum to the total. First times that promised to turn into sexual frenzies simply did not belong in the mix.
Sam obviously felt otherwise, "Dean-" he started all puppy eyes and 'you know you want to' in his voice.
"I said no, Sam." He glared at both of them. And yeah, nothing was ever simple for a Winchester. "I'll be your bitch when we're home, but out here, when we're on a case, both of you are my bitches. You either do what I say when I say, or I can't ever be more than your big brother."
They hated it, because him submitting to their sex whims, yeah, baby. Them following his lead in the field even though he was the better hunter – and they knew it – stung their big bad macho egos. Tough, because so was he.
There was some yelling and somewhere in there Sammy actually called him a prude. It ended with some graceless snarls of 'fine!' and the two younger Winchesters banishment to the second bed. They got even by giving each other noisy hand jobs once the lights were out. Because apparently, even when a closely-related alternative was conveniently nearby, Dean was the only member of this family whose ass was getting fucked. Stupid, macho whatevers.
*
Almost exactly on the two-hour mark, Sam snarled, "The hunt's over."
No shit. "Drive home isn't," he stalled, eyes searching for some place where he could pull off the highway and stay hidden. Yeah, it was dark, but there was such a thing as headlights.
The squabbling started up again. Sam and Adam all, 'Dean not the boss of them anymore' and him all 'hold your freaking horses.' Thankfully, before one of them got frustrated enough to grab the wheel – he'd have had to kill out of pure principle – he spotted a sign for a closed rest stop. That meant no facilities, no lights, but a parking place off the road.
The two idiots were so busy beating their manly chests they didn't even notice him pulling off the highway. He left the keys in the ignition when he stopped, and dove out of the car. Silly to try to run, but the shouting had pissed him off and he didn't want to make it easy on either of them.
Sam's eight-mile long arms caught him before he could get three steps away. Sam spun him around and up against the Impala. "Bend over, bitch," he hissed, big hand shoving between his shoulder blades so he sprawled over the hood. Made Dean so hard so fast, Sam had trouble getting Dean's jeans down.
Cold dash of lube, then Sam's very proportional length shoved home. Dean moaned loudly, his hips pushing back to get more in. So fucking huge. "Make me so damned crazy," Sam panted settling into a bruising rhythm. "So fucking hot."
"Good, so good, Sammy."
"Don't. Call. Me. Sammy!" A near brutal thrust accompanied each word, and on the last Sam came with a roar that sent Dean tumbling over the edge, too.
Sam pulled out and Adam shoved in. Not as big as Sam, but by no means small, he actually managed to thrust harder, banging away on Dean's prostate with every damned thrust. Got Dean hard again in defiance to all rules about refractory times and he came a split second before Adam spilled inside him.
The edge taken off, Adam's hands were gentle as he stripped Dean naked, then urged him to lie down in the back seat. They'd even put a blanket down to protect his baby's upholstery. A nap sounded good, except Sam's gorgeous body settled on top of him. Instinctively Dean wrapped his arms and legs around him, took his cock into his body.
Sam set a slow pace, his kisses lazy and gentle. "So beautiful," he murmured when their lips parted. "Love you so much."
"Love you, too. Sammy, love you."
"Only thing that kept me sane down there was thinking of coming home, of finally claiming you."
When Sam finished, Adam pulled off the road long enough for them to switch places. He had soft words and touches, too. About how beautiful Dean was, about how intensely Adam and Sam had bonded in the cage and part of that was Sam sharing his love for Dean. "Couldn't help loving you, too," he said, starting to thrust faster. "Wanting you."
"Adam," he groaned. So messed up coming from his baby brother's cock, but Dean clung to him as he shuddered through his release. "Want you. Love you."
Went on and on like that all the way home. One was either making love to him or holding him. Sammy even carried him into the house, then they all curled up in Dean's bed, their bed, with Dean tucked between the two of them.
*
Adam had him up against the shower wall, fucking him hard while somewhere Sam waited for his turn to bury himself in Dean's 'sweet cunt.' Didn't seem right. Belonged to both of them.
He moaned loudly, as Adam twisted his nipples, the sharp pain making him come, the sound apparently enough make Adam climax with him. Adam had enough time to give Dean a quick pat down with a towel before Sam yanked open the shower door.
He pulled Dean up off his feet, draping him over one shoulder with his ass in the air. Adam's seed began to trickle out as Sam carried him downstairs, then bent him over the sofa. Embarrassed Dean how much he loved it, how much he enjoyed it being all about him. Spent so many years worrying about and taking care of others it was like the ultimate aphrodisiac to have the two of them set him at the center of their universes. Got even better when the near sexual frenzy died down, and it was as much about love as sex.
*
But he really wanted both his lovers inside him at the same time. In his ass. Kind of a scary thought give the size of the two cocks involved, but his hole clenched and his own cock twitched in approval, so time to hit Google. Sure, he already knew it was possible, even had a pretty good idea of the positions needed, but it was his tender ass on offer, so he wanted more info before he played bitch in heat.
He read about the details – smaller of the two lovers flat on the bed, bigger-stronger behind. Bigger did all the work. Cue the orgasms. Also lots of 'up close and personal' contact between Sam and Adam's cocks. Might be a problem.
Sure they touched each other all the time. Even gave each other hand jobs on the rare occasion Dean was too tired to put out, but nothing more. He didn't figure either would ever bend over for the other, but blow jobs might end up on the agenda somewhere down the line. He thought it was kind of dumb, because damn, did getting fucked feel good. Then again, try as he might – principle of the thing -- he couldn't manage any interest in being the one doing the fucking, so he probably shouldn't be throwing any stones on preferred sex positions, but … Did this cross the line? He wanted it, but would they?
He worried his lower lip and tried to think about how to approach this, then heard Gigantor stomping down the hall. "Hey, beautiful, you done with the computer?"
"Depends," he stood up, displaying the erection tenting his jeans. "What will you give me?
Sam's arms went around him. "What do you want?"
"Hmm." Dean considered the established 'menu,' then said, "Spanked until I come, then make me suck you."
They had toys stashed all over the house so it didn't surprise him when Sam reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a set of wrist restraints. "You sure?" he asked, even as he secured Dean's hands behind his back in a way that would prevent him from shielding his ass. "Be sore for awhile."
Half the fun, and getting fucked hurt so good. "I've been bad, Sammy," he assured him. "You need to punish me. Long and hard."
Sam yanked down Dean's jeans and boxers, sat down in the desk chair, then pulled Dean over his lap. Big hands went to work, peppering Dean's bare bottom with painful swats that had him begging for Sam to stop. He had a safeword (cake) so Sam ignored him, even spanked him harder when Dean began to cry, then sob. Ass throbbed with hot pain, but the blows kept coming, while Dean's cock hardened between legs spread wide enough to prevent any friction. It was an absolute rule to their sex games. Dean's cock never got touched. He was the bitch and came from what happened to his ass or mouth, never to his cock like his studs.
Pain kept getting more and more intense, but he managed to hold out long enough to make him sit carefully for at least three days. Then with a scream, he spurted his release onto the carpet beneath him.
Sam immediately stopped. "On your knees, bitch," he hissed, his voice tight with arousal.
Dean knew how bright his eyes got when he cried, how much Sam loved his tear-streaked face, so he made a point of looking up at him as he sucked him off. Made him come so hard it left Sam gasping. Yeah, Dean was that good.
It took a moment for Sam to recover enough to find his dom-voice. "Stand in the corner until Adam comes home and fucks you."
Dean obeyed, his ass throbbing and framed by his t-shirt and pulled down jeans. Knew it would inspire Adam to fuck him really hard. Would cry again. Probably so prettily Sam would have to fuck him, too. Dean couldn't wait.
*
He groaned loudly at a particularly rough bite, then Adam began to suck. Made Dean squirm, taking him to the edge of coming when Sam cleared his throat and Adam stopped. Weird. They were both good about waiting for their turns, and while Sammy was clearly the lead alpha of this sex club, he never rubbed it in.
Before Dean could demand 'what the hell, dude,' Sam had occupied his mouth with a kiss. Adam slipped out from beneath him, but he could hear the rustle of him shedding his clothes, then lubed up fingers began probing his hole. Oh, okay. Adam wanted to fuck him while Sam kissed him senseless. That worked.
Except after getting him all stretched open and wet, the fingers withdrew without a cock replacing them. Dean whined, then did so even louder when Sam's mouth abandoned him, too.
"Shhh, it's all right," Adam soothed him, pulling him further onto their bed. Dean followed the push of his lover's hands, and straddled his lap, then sighed happily when Adam let him fuck himself down on his cock. He wiggled enjoying the sensation of balls against his hole, then Sam's hand settled between his shoulder blades.
"Lean forward, baby. Low against his torso."
What? His eyes widened as he remembered what he'd read. Oh. "Really?"
"Yes, gorgeous," Adam answered with a wicked smile. "Come here."
Dean obeyed, shifting forward so his filled hole was displayed for Sam. Adam played some more with his nipples, while Sam used more lube and worked at opening him up even further.
Strain to wait, not to come, but he focused on not having permission to come and held himself still. Didn't stop the needy moan when he felt the head of Sam's cock nudge his hole. "Please, please, please," he panted through the pain of Sam's slow entry. So big. So good.
The pain settled into a delicious burn. Sam gripped Dean's hips and began to thrust. All three of them moaned at the sensation. "Damn," Adam murmured, his hands settling over Sam's and Dean felt their fingers interlacing.
'That's right, fuck each other by fucking me.' It was his last coherent thought. Adam squirmed beneath him, Sam pounded into him, his cock hitting Dean's prostate and stroking Adam's cock with each thrust.
None of them could last for long. Dean came with a scream, the shuddering of his orgasm triggering Adam's, then Sam's. Then they all slumped in an awkward heap. Deciding to play the 'I'm your pretty bitch, take care of me' card, he whimpered.
Immediately his brothers straightened themselves out, got him and themselves cleaned up, then tucked snuggly in bed. Sam spooned up behind him, Dean settled into to sleep with his head on Adam's shoulder.
He smiled slightly. Yeah, he was their pretty sex toy, their bitch. But he'd called it right the hunt before this all started. He'd play their bitch, but they were always going to be his bitches. And that suited him just fine.
end