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Of all the things Sam had come to appreciate about the bunker, the quiet was one he hadn’t expected. As a child, he’d considered the Impala his bunker, his home base. He’d believed that nothing bad could get him when he was in the car. Unl ike this bunker, it was never silent, but the sound of the engine and the radio and even the muted sounds of traffic had become comforting white noise. If he felt suffocated by yet another crappy motel room or yet another first day of school, he sometimes simply went and sat in the back seat of the parked car.
When Sam got older and was left alone without the shelter of the Impala, he’d found his peace in libraries. He was quiet and respectful and librarians liked him. He used to dream about living in a library. And that was kind of what had happened, actually.
It had taken him a long time to discover that his real peace came from proximity to his brother. His lover, his friend, his everything. Nobody would look at Dean and think of the word “peaceful” – he was action and motion and laughter and teasing, but still, he was Sam’s lodestone. His true north. The one who could make everything in Sam’s mind quiet. Guilt, regret, even remembered hissed Enochian vitriol faded out in the face of Dean Winchester.
The one the monsters fear.
Sam smiled at his own hero worship. He’d never outgrown it, no matter how their relationship changed. But for now, he needed to pay more attention to what he was doing. He was delving into the nesting habits of bauk colonies to help a hunter friend who was tracking some down in a Bulgarian neighborhood on the outskirts of Chicago. It wasn’t a rush job, but he still should get it done.
Sam worked for the next hour or so without distraction. He ended up comfortably sprawled in his favorite library chair with his left ankle on his right knee with the sizable Anthenaeum Superno resting on his thigh and against his upraised knee.
He folded his hands behind his head and stretched languorously, sighing in relief as his back popped a few times. He’d learned quite a bit. For example, he’d always thought bauks were just Southern European ogres, but they were actually much more intelligent. They could hide in plain sight, mimicking a pile of garbage, for example. He’d have to warn Matt that –
The book was plucked from Sam’s knee. “Don’t move,” Dean ordered in the tone that never failed to make Sam’s breath catch in his throat. Dean stepped into view and visibly admired Sam’s chest as he stayed frozen mid-stretch. His eyes were green fire, giving Sam a warning for exactly what kind of mood his lover was in. His stomach squirmed with pleasant anticipation.
Moving deliberately, Dean wrapped a hand around Sam’s ankle and moved his foot to the floor. Then he put one hand on the back of the chair and leaned close. “You work too hard,” he said, his breath brushing against Sam’s cheek. “And I have somethin’ I’ve been wanting to try…”
His free hand trailed down Sam’s chest and settled between his legs, massaging slow and hard.
“Yes,” Sam blurted. It didn’t matter what Dean wanted. When he used that voice, the answer was always yes.
Not that long ago, they’d first introduced toys into their sexy times (as Dean insisted on calling them) and it had opened up a whole new world. A world in which Dean Winchester perfectly drowned out every nightmare Sam had ever had.
Not half an hour later, Sam found himself kneeling on Dean’s bed with his forehead restingon his forearm. He dug his teeth into the base of his thumb. He’d already bitten his bottom lip bloody and he was determined not to whimper. He was Sam Fucking Winchester and he did not whimper. (Or at least, he didn’t admit it.)
Dean, crouched on the bed behind Sam, chuckled and twisted his wrist. Sam was naked, knees spread far apart and ass upraised. His wrists were in the straps they’d pitoned into the wall. They were long enough for him to move somewhat but strong enough he would never break them or pull them loose. Not long before, he’d only been comfortable using magnetic restraints, but with Dean’s encouragement, he’d come to crave the feeling of being totally vulnerable .
He felt pretty damn out of control right now. As if he needed help to drive Sam out of his mind, Dean had picked up a couple new toys for his brother. The first was a cock ring that securely bound the base of his dick and his balls.
“I wanna see how far I can push you,” Dean had purred, feeling Sam up as he tried to strip as fast as possible. “And this way, you can’t come.”
The idea lit a fire in Sam’s brain that melted every reasonable part of his mind. But Dean wasn’t done.
“I want to see if I can get you to pass out,” he’d continued. Then, as if Sam needed incentive, he’d bitten Sam’s ear and added, “When you wake up, I’ll be inside you.”
S am doubted Dean could actually make him pass out, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the effort.
Dean had started by rimming Sam and tongue-fucking him until he was panting and writhing. Now, he’d added his fingers to the mix, opening him up so slowly it was torture. Dean bent his fingers and twisted again, making his knuckles bump and stretch and stimulate Sam’s insides in a whole new way. His pinkie teased at Sam’s rim with jolts of shocky pleasure until he was gasping. He bit into his hand again.
Not satisfied with Sam’s quietude , Dean spread his fingers wide enough to make Sam’s whole body tremble. Then his tongue pushed inside between them. A sound punched out of Sam that was part groan and all helpless reaction. Dean stretched him even more, to the point that it burned. Then, as a counterpoint, he softly traced Sam’s balls with his tongue. They already felt ready to burst and the gentle touch made them ache and Sam moan. It felt like Dean’s mouth was fiery hot, a fire that just added to the burning stretch of his fingers. All the while, his pinkie teased at Sam’s rim.
Dean stopped scissoring his fingers and instead began assaulting Sam’s prostate. First he rubbed it, then tapped it, then lightly scored it with his fingernail. His mouth was back at Sam’s rim, this time with a hint of teeth. He deliberately rubbed his scruff against Sam’s ass cheek over and over.
Overwhelmed by all the competing sensations, Sam rocked and keened, all thoughts of holding his sounds in gone. Dean didn’t let up until Sam was gasping for air, both cheeks were hot, and his prostate was throbbing.
Dean said something Sam couldn’t hear over the roaring in his ears, then Sam found himself flipped neatly onto his back blinking up dazedly. The straps holding his wrists were long enough to allow it but with the twist in them, Sam had a lot less freedom to move his arms.
Dean waited until Sam’s eyes focused on him – more or less – before producing a toy Sam had never seen before. It was mostly phallic in shape but had two distinct bulbous sections. There was a significant curve at the narrow petiole-like section, then another right before a knob at the tip. He let Sam get a long look at it as he slowly, almost lovingly coated it with lube. And not just any old lube. Sam could smell that it was the expensive stuff that actually tasted good. Just a whiff of it was enough to make his stomach clench in the Pavlovian response of someone who knew exactly what Dean Winchester could do with his mouth.
Giving the toy one last, slow stroke, Dean looked up through his lashes as if he hadn’t realized Sam was watching him. One corner of his mouth curled up slowly in a knowing, lascivious look. For the first time, Sam started to believe that his brother might accomplish his goal.
Without breaking eye contact, Dean touched the tip to Sam’s rim. He pushed it in slowly, forcing Sam to feel every one of the ridges. He paused with the first segment inside and rotated his wrist a few times, causing a delicious stretch that wrung a groan from Sam. He’d come back from the brink of orgasm but was still on edge, all of his skin feeling overly sensitive and too tight. His prostate felt swollen and his cock was nearly purple, bulging slightly around the cock ring and weeping continuously. The dildo felt good – better than good – but it wasn’t what he really wanted.
Then Dean pushed the rest of dildo inside, filling Sam far deeper than his fingers could reach. The bulb pushed against Sam’s tingling prostate and the wider lower section gave him the feeling of fullness he craved. The quickness of the move forced a breathless grunt from Sam as his balls tightened even more. He almost broke and begged Dean to take the ring off and touch my dick already, dammit when Dean’s smile grew just a bit bigger and the toy began to pulse – not typical vibrations, but repeated contractions and release of its entire length.
Awareness took a hard left and Sam’s back arched hard off the bed. He was catapulted right past want to either my brains or my dick are going to explode in the next 30 seconds. A string of cursing and begging and just plain moaning and whimpering seemed to be coming from Sam’s mouth, but he couldn’t actually hear any of it. All he could think about or feel was the deep thrumming or pulsing of the vibrator as it pounded his prostate to the point of pain, then pleasure, then back to pain again. He began to shake, unable to stop.
And then the hot, wet silk of Dean’s mouth closed over one of Sam’s balls. The contrast between the violent pounding of his prostate and the incredible softness of Dean’s mouth had Sam thrashing and gasping for air. When Dean moved over to the other ball, Sam’s whole body spasmed as it tried to orgasm but was thwarted by the ring. Sam felt like he was about to explode. Waves of pleasure shook him. Pinning his hips to the bed with both hands, Dean licked a long stripe up Sam’s burning, throbbing cock, stopping to torture the exquisitely sensitive spot just beneath the head with the edge of his teeth.
Sam’s pulse pounded in his temples and something like a sob broke free when Dean sucked on the tip and tongued the slit, which felt wide open even though nothing could escape. The heat and pressure and need went impossibly higher. Sam couldn’t relax a single muscle. Couldn’t stop tears from sliding down.
Dean pulled his head up, his eyes so intense Sam couldn’t look away. He mouthed let go . Then he swallowed Sam down with the most perfect, tightest suction imaginable. And Sam obeyed. He let the sensation take him over and drag him under, watching fireworks behind his lids until they faded too.
…
…
…
Sam was so full .
It was the first thing he noticed as he tried to wake up. So full, and fuck his dick ached.
Suddenly, Sam’s memory rushed back and he opened his eyes as fast as his heavy eyelids would allow. His internal clock said that he hadn’t been out more than a few minutes, but Dean already had his arms released and was, as promised, inside him. He was much bigger than the dildo and even though he wasn’t moving, his dick was putting pressure against Sam’s much-abused prostate.
Though it felt like he’d just had an explosive orgasm, Sam’s body hadn’t gotten the message and he was catapulted right back to the edge. He couldn’t help but moan. Dean was face-to-face with him, beautiful eyes so full of heat Sam shivered from it.
Dean was shaking with the effort of holding still, yet he waited. “Sammy?”
There was a wealth of meaning in the word and Sam could interpret it all. There was affection and lust and are you okay and can I move?
Sam answered the only way he could. “Yes.”
Dean didn’t ask if he was sure. He just started moving – deep, hard strokes that dragged hard past every hyper-sensitized spot inside Sam and made him arch. That was when he finally realized his arms were free and took advantage, wrapped them around Dean so he could really push back against every jarring, mind-numbing stroke. Every time the tip of Sam’s painfully hard dick rubbed against Dean’s stomach fireworks went off behind his eyelids. He started to beg, shameless in his need. He couldn’t hear his own desperate words or the slapping of skin over the rushing in his ears, but he begged anyway, feeling like he’d been on the edge forever. The only things he could do were cling to Dean and stare into his eyes, like he’d lose himself completely without his brother to anchor him.
Without breaking rhythm, Dean leaned to the side and reached between them with one hand. Sam didn’t comprehend the significance until he was suddenly free of the cock ring. Sam’s eyes flew wide as what felt like all the blood in his body raced towards his dick. A huge ball of pressure coalesced just above his ass-crack. He teetered there for an infinite second like a roller coaster atop the first hill, then his orgasm exploded out of him.
Sam screamed and bucked and clung as Dean fucked him through it. His orgasm crashed over him in waves leaving him wrung out and panting and grinning dopily up at Dean.
It took him a few more moments to focus through the haze of satiation, but he forced himself to pull his awareness back as much as possible. Dean would often wait to chase his own orgasm until after Sam had come down from his own, something hot as hell to Sam. There was nothing in any world better than watching that edge come over Dean’s beautiful face, watch him use Sam’s body for his own pleasure, and watching the sheer sensuality of the moment he tipped over the edge. It often bordered on painful for Sam, but that didn’t detract from his pleasure one whit.
But this time, Dean slowed and deepened his strokes instead of speeding up. His face was a carved mask, staring at Sam so intently he shuddered more from that than the prickly jolts of overstimulation as Dean slowed even more, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in so deep that Sam’s toes curled.
“Dean!” it was a question and a plea but not a protest. Never a protest.
The corner of Dean’s mouth curled up and he looked positively wicked. He pulled up one of Sam’s legs and bent it up nearly to his shoulder, patting it in a silent command to keep it in place. He went way down on one elbow so he could bite Sam’s shoulder, collarbone, jawline, and mouth. The whole time, he didn’t stop fucking Sam’s channel, which was feeling hot and swollen. His body kept clamping down and rippling around Dean’s dick in reaction, sending tremors through him.
He whined, almost whimpered when Dean snuck a hand between them and started loosely dragging his fist up and down Sam’s dick. In the back of his mind, Sam had realized that he hadn’t gone completely soft even after his incredible orgasm, but it hadn’t occurred to him to attempt to come again. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d survive an attempt.
“You can do it, I know you can,” Dean panted directly into his ear as if reading his mind. “C’mon, Sam. For me.”
That wasn’t fair, really. How was Sam supposed to resist? He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. He nodded, unable to speak, but tilted his hips a little higher so Dean’s dick could get that tiny bit deeper. Sam gasped and huffed and gripped Dean’s biceps hard enough that it had to hurt. Dean didn’t slow down at all, nor did he stop jacking Sam in rhythm. It hurt and felt good and hurt and felt good until it all ran together and the little bit of air Sam had left punched out of him with a deep grunt. His entire body was drawn tight, his nerves as taut as his muscles and reality reduced to Dean’s cock in his ass and hand on his cock.
This orgasm slapped Sam across the face with the subtlety of a flying bowling ball. It was sudden and brutal and so good Sam threw his head back and screamed long and loud.
He floated lazily in a euphoric haze where time didn’t seem to exist.
It was hard to remember why, but Sam didn’t want to stay blind and deaf to everything. He wanted (needed) to see Dean’s face when he came. Sam blinked slowly, feeling drunk on endorphins and slightly disconnected from everything. He nudged Dean’s face with his chin, and Dean complied with the unspoken request and lifted his head just enough to look down at Sam as his own climax claimed him.
Dean’s face froze for a split second then he growled aloud. The feeling of him coming inside Sam made his sated-but-still-sensitized body twitch but Sam didn’t close his eyes. He watched the moment that Dean’s eyes glazed over and all tension flowed out of his expression, leaving him looking satisfied and lax with pleasure. It was Sam’s favorite moment. In some ways, it was better than reaching his own orgasm, no matter how Earth-shattering. It was the moment that Dean was perfectly happy and at peace.
But Sam’s couldn’t hold onto his unwavering focus long. He was too well-used for that. Too satisfied to feel anything but languid. He didn’t quite lose all awareness, but mostly floated in that peaceful place only Dean could bring him.
He savored the way Dean’s weight pinned him to the bed, only half-aware that Dean was talking to him, only caring about the praising tone. He sighed when Dean pulled back, sliding his softening cock out and moving off Sam. He watched hazily as Dean moved across the room, absently admiring the movement of his perfect ass. When Sam was in this mode, he couldn’t stand Dean being very far from him, but Dean was well aware of that fact, so he knew he’d be right back. It seemed like Sam had barely finished the thought before he felt Dean carefully cleaning him up with a warm washcloth.
Sam sighed again. There was something so decadent about lying still and letting Dean clean him intimately – not because he was hurt or unable or something bad had happened, but simply because he wanted to. Simply because Sam enjoyed it.
And he did. He lay quiescent and absorbed the care, the comfort, the sound of Dean’s voice even when most of the words didn’t penetrate. Drifting on a sea of satiation, even the small aches throughout his body felt good.
Then, at long last, Dean was spooned up behind Sam with an arm slung over his chest. This, Sam thought, was his own version of heaven.
Dean was saying something about next time that Sam didn’t even try to understand. “Shut up,” he interrupted dreamily. “Sleep now.”
Dean laughed, pulled Sam even closer, and did just that.