Sam opened the door to the room of the most recent shit hotel they were staying in and crossed the threshold, broad shoulders slumped in exhaustion. He dumped his Army surplus bag containing his merger possessions at the foot of his bed before collapsing face first onto the stained, threadbare comforter. The door banged behind him and Dean entered the room. The door closed, and he could hear the hiss of salt being spilled by the doors and windows, followed by the thump of discarded bags and the creak of bed springs as Dean collapsed in a similar fashion; he was almost instantly asleep. As his brother snored softly, Sam closed his eyes tight, and thought about what had happened the previous night.
It had been a routine hunt. A ghoul was chomping corpses from local cemeteries and the bodies of two groundskeepers had been found near a crypt, covered in bite marks and drained of blood. Because they had only expected one, they had split up. As it had turned out there were three.
Dean had been ambushed; the ghouls had him tied down and were going to eat him alive when Sam had found them. He had gone berserk, blowing two of their heads off with a shotgun before the third tackled him and knocked the gun out of his hands. It had bitten his arms and neck, trying to rip out his jugular. When its teeth had sunk into the flesh where his neck met his shoulder, Dean had let out a shout and struggled against the bindings so hard he knocked over the table he was strapped to with a crash. The ghoul left Sam bleeding on the floor and started in on Dean. Sam had stumbled to his feet, let out a roar and charged the monster with no weapon. Nothing would hurt his Dean; not a goddamn thing. He had beaten the ghoul to death with his bare hands until its face was an unrecognizable pulp of blood and shattered bone.
As soon as he was sure the monster was never moving again, he had gotten up and untied his older brother from his bonds, trying not to let him see the tenderness in his actions as he checked over the rope burns on his wrists. Other than that he had seemed unharmed, so they had burned the bodies and gone back to the dive they were staying in. After they showered, stitched, and bandaged their wounds, they had gotten the hell out of dodge. They had driven all night and stopped around sunrise at the nearest motel.
Now Sam unburied his face from the mattress and looked over at his brother. He felt a pang of longing as he watched Dean lying on his back. His eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted. Sam tried to push away the less than brotherly feelings singing through his veins, but it was impossible; he had felt this way for as long as he could remember, like it was wired into his DNA. Wanting Dean was burned into him at a soul deep level; it was never going away. Dean was beautiful and Sam stared at the little things he loved about his brother: the way his eyelashes caught golden in the light of the sun streaming through the window and fanned shadows across his face, accentuating the smattering of freckles on his cheekbones. His sun kissed skin stretched over lean muscle. His pillowy, pink lips that looked so soft and kissable. How many times had he imagined what it would be like to kiss those lips? To see them stretched around his cock, spit slicked and swollen? The thought of Dean on his knees in front of him had Sam instantly, painfully hard.
Yeah, maybe he was going to Hell again for wanting Dean, and maybe this was a fucked up way to think of your brother, but Sam had accepted that he was a little fucked up a long time ago. Besides, it didn't feel wrong. It felt like the most right thing in the world. Like he was only half a person and if he could just have this, he would be whole for the first time in his life. But he could never be whole; he could never tell Dean the truth about how he felt. He could never tell him why he bolted every time he emerged from the shower, glistening wet, clad only in a threadbare towel. About how he jerked off to the sound of Dean's gasps and moans in the night as he pleasured himself while he thought Sam was sleeping. About coming with Dean's name on his lips, offering it up like a prayer. If his brother rejected him and left him alone, Sam wouldn't have a reason to keep breathing.
Sam let out a sigh and started to roll over when he heard a groan. His heart sank; Dean was having another Hell nightmare. Sam clambered to his feet to gently shake his brother awake when another sound escaped those plush lips: a filthy noise laced with desire and want and holy shit he needed to make it again right fucking now. Dean let out a little growl and his hips started moving, trying to find friction in the air, the evidence of his arousal straining at his jeans. Sam's mouth went dry, his blood boiling, cock throbbing. He watched his big brother let out a breathy little whimper and claw at the sheets, gasping.
Sam couldn't take it. He sat on the edge of the bed and freed himself from the confines of his jeans. His large hand closed tightly around his cock and he started stroking himself. He wasn't going to last long. Watching his brother's face twist in pleasure, hearing those dirty little sounds and imagining that he was causing them was the best stimulant. His free hand reached around to toy with his balls while his thumb traced the slit of his cock head. He fell back on the bed with a quiet moan, turning his head to the side so he could still watch Dean. Pre come was leaking from the head of his dick, slicking the shaft, making it easier for his hand to glide faster. He closed his eyes and started chanting his brother's name quietly, imagining that it was Dean's hand making him come apart at the seams. He was about to come all over himself, his brother's name on his lips when he heard Dean say his name.
"Sammy?"
Sam stopped, horrified; he had been caught. Dean was staring at him wide eyed, mouth open in disbelief. It was obvious he heard him moaning his brother's name.
"Oh, God, shit," said Sam trying to put himself back in his pants and stand at the same time. "Dean, just let me explain, please."
Dean just stared at his brother; Sam knew his face was flushed, his too long hair mussed up, his erection so large and hard it looked ready to break his zipper. Dean stood up and started walking to him. Sam backed away, his hands raised in surrender until his back hit the wall. Dean stalked closer, his eyes blazing, face unreadable. Sam closed his eyes and prepared for Dean to strike him. To beat the shit out of him and scream and call him a freak. He would never see him again. His reason for living was about to walk out forever.
He was in no way prepared when he felt Dean step close and press their bodies together. Sam's eyes sprang open. "Dean?" He asked, voice cracking. His response was to roll his hips into his little brother; Dean's dick was huge and throbbing through the layers of clothing. Sam's eyes rolled to the back of his head; their cocks dragging together through the denim created a delicious friction that was destroying him in the best possible way. Sam gasped, eyes fluttering closed. Dean reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look his big brother in the face. His eyes were half lidded, and the dark stormy green of a turbulent sea. That blazing look, full of need and want was too much for Sam. He started trembling.
"Sammy," whispered Dean, his voice husky, "I want this."
Sam couldn't believe it so he opted to just listen.
"I've wanted this for so long. I never thought you would feel the same. But now I know. And if you want this too, I'm never giving it up. Not ever."
Sam's head was spinning, happiness blooming inside of him. "How long?" Dean nuzzled his little brother's chest.
"Always," he said. "Who do you think I was dreaming about? Why do you think I slept around so much? Because I was trying to drown you out. It's just you Sammy. Only you. "
Sam's cock twitched and throbbed in his pants at his big brother's words.
Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sam's collar bone, his hands roaming under his shirt, feeling the sweaty skin of his bare back. Sam couldn't stop himself. His hands grasped Dean's hips and he ground himself into his big brother with abandon. Dean let out another little growl, and then he was kissing him. It was everything Sam had ever dreamed of and more. Dean's lips were soft and smooth, and when his tongue ran across the seam of Sam's mouth, he opened willingly. It was warm and wet and he tasted of whiskey and honey and spice and something else; something that was uniquely Dean. He felt his brother groan in his mouth and the next thing he knew, he was on his back on the mattress with Dean on top of him.
Everything was heat and want and Dean, Dean, Dean as his brother plundered his mouth. They were wearing too many clothes; Sam reached up and pulled Dean's shirts over his head. Dean seemed to get the idea and helped by tugging off Sam's shirt, laughing when his hair stuck up even more. When they were both bare chested, Dean broke the kiss and looked at his brother, eyes blazing. His lips were swollen and wet from his searing kisses; his mouth would be bruised later. Dean didn't say anything. He didn't have to. When he reached up and stroked Sam's lips with his thumb, Sam knew everything he was thinking, everything he wanted to say. The unspoken 'Love you, Sammy' was practically shimmering in the air between them. But that wasn't all. There was a question buried in his eyes: the question of whether Sam wanted this to go any further. Sam answered by leaning up and pressing his lips back to Dean's where they belonged; it felt like coming home. Dean ravished his brother's mouth, making obscene noises when Sam gently raked his fingernails along his broad back.
Dean's hands roamed all over Sam, touching and claiming his body as his own. His lungs were burning for air when Dean moved his lips down the column of Sam's throat, sucking and nipping, leaving marks. Sam loved them; he wanted the world to see that Dean had been here. Sam felt a whimper escape his throat and heard his brother chuckle. He began a long journey south, leaving hickeys and burning kisses in his wake. He took a nipple in his mouth, lavishing it with his tongue. Sam moaned loudly, needing more and Dean reached up, pinching and rolling the neglected nipple between skilled fingers, teasing him, nails of the other hand raking his chest.
He trailed kisses down to his belly button, darting his tongue inside as he opened his belt. Sam's pants and boxers were carelessly tossed aside closely followed by Dean's. His hand wrapped tightly around Sam's dick. Sam gasped as Dean's strong callused hand started moving over him, stroking slowly, tugging his balls with his free hand. It was amazing that these hands that could kill and destroy were capable of such tenderness and love. Sam threw his head back and made a choked noise when Dean's thumb brushed the slit, massaging the pre come back into his secret, petal soft skin. Sam's eyes popped open when Dean ran his tongue along the underside of his dick.
He propped himself up on his elbows to watch as Dean sealed his perfect, cocksucking lips over the head. His mouth looked better than he ever imagined wrapped tightly around him, stretched tight to accommodate his girth. When he started twirling his tongue around and around, it was too much. Sam fell back on the bed and let the sensations wash over him, fingers tangling in his brother's short hair. Dean was bobbing his head up and down, taking him deeper and deeper into his throat until he was tapping the back. Pleasure was spiraling through his body, winding tight like a spring, bringing him closer to the edge, but he didn't want to come yet. Not until Dean was inside of him.
"Dean, stop." Dean stopped immediately and backed away, looking scared and wounded. Sam caught his mistake instantly. His hand stroked his brothers face and said, "No, Dean, I want this. I just want you inside of me."
Dean groaned, looking relieved and crushed his lips to Sam's. "Want me inside of you, Sam? Want me to fuck you?" He murmmered roughly against his lips.
"Yeah," whispered Sam breathily.
Dean rolled off the bed and rummaged in his bag for the bottle of lube he had stashed away. He was back in a flash, his weight settling on top of Sam, heavy and warm. His hands traced Sam's face, kissing him sweetly, tongue filling his mouth. Sam bit Dean's bottom lip and let it slide slowly from between his teeth. Dean growled, and the kiss became hotter, rawer. Dean was sucking on his tongue like it was made of candy. Their hands were everywhere, holding each other close. Dean's fingers trailed lower, gripping the curve of Sam's ass, rutting into him, dicks rubbing together. He sat up and quickly coated his fingers in the slippery substance from the bottle he had retrieved. Then his fingers were brushing at Sam's entrance, gentle but insistent.
He slid one finger in slowly, kissing Sam through the initial discomfort, murmuring praise. It felt so full, but not in a bad way. Then Dean brushed something deep inside of him. "Holy shit!" Sam arched his back off the bed as if electrocuted. "Do that again," he demanded, his voice low and wrecked. Dean smirked and brushed the bundle of nerves again and again until Sam was crying out his name. He took this opportunity to slip a second finger inside. The feeling was overwhelming and wonderful and not enough. Not by a long shot.
"Dean, I need you. Please. "Dean's response was to scissor his fingers, stretching him before adding a third.
"Goddamn it Dean, please."
Dean brushed his hair out of his face with his free hand and said, "Not gonna hurt you Sammy. Gotta get you ready."
Sam whimpered, trying to fuck himself on his brother's fingers. Dean finally withdrew leaving him bereft, but it was only for a second; Dean lined himself up with Sam's tight entrance and began to slowly push in. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. Dean sank deeper, inch by inch until he was sheathed completely. Sam's body took his big brother as if he had been designed for it. Dean held himself inside unmoving, shuddering in the effort it took not to thrust. The discomfort soon faded and gave way to a mind blowing feeling of fullness.
"Move," he whispered.
Dean rolled his hips and Sam's world stopped. Everything he knew, everything he had done in his life was worthless and pointless because he hadn't been living or feeling. He didn't know what feeling was until he had felt Dean deep inside of him. He thrust again and again, slow and deep and gentle.
Everything in their lives was blood and death and violence. Sam didn't know how much he needed this soft, gentle love until this moment. His nerve endings were on fire, pleasure spiraling through him, more intense than anything he had ever felt.
"Oh my God, Sammy." Dean's face was filled with ecstasy, his mouth slack, his eyes burning into his brother's. His hands reached up and tangled into Sam's chestnut locks as he kissed him deeply, their bodies pressed together from lips to where they were joined as one. Dean's thrusts deepened and he changed his angle slightly so that he was brushing his sweet spot with every stroke. Molten fire was pouring through his veins, he was spinning out of control and he loved it. This was going to be over embarrassingly fast and he couldn't even bring himself to care.
"Oh God, Dean! Dean, please!" Sam was begging without even realizing, clawing the sheets, writhing underneath him canting his hips to meet his brother, thrust for thrust. Dean sat upright so he could take Sam's girth in his hand. When he began furiously stroking, he had to choke back a scream.
"You like that, don't you Sammy? You like the way I fuck you, make you feel good? Oh God, Sam you feel so good, please. Come for me, baby boy, let it go for me."
He jacked him harder, hitting all the right places inside. Dean's words were slaying him; his orgasm was building and he started babbling.
"Dean, please. Oh God, don't you dare stop. Don't fucking stop please Dean, I'm gonna come Dean, Dean, DEAN!" And that was it; Sam was undone, falling off the edge of a cliff, flying through the air, burning in the inferno that was Dean. He screamed his brother's name as white ropes of come shot between their moving bodies . His orgasm shattered him into a million pieces and Dean picked each one up and glued him back together.
His brother's thrusts got harder and more erratic, his hips stuttering as he fucked him through the earth shattering explosion.
"Oh fuck, Sam just like that. So good for me. Come all over my cock. Just like that baby. Sam, Sammy-" Dean cried out and then he was coming too, so deep inside of him. His face flushed, body convulsing, Sam's name on his lips. When it was over, he gently pulled out and collapsed on top of him.
Sam pulled Dean up to kiss him, long and deep. They made out lazily, both sated and sleepy, backing in the afterglow. Sam laid his head on his brother's chest and hauled the comforter over them. He felt soft lips press into his hair and he smiled.
"This isn't a one time thing, is it Sammy?" Dean asked. He seemed genuinely worried, so Sam kissed him gently and whispered against his swollen lips, "No, Dean. This is a forever kind of thing."
Dean made a happy noise and kissed him back. They fell asleep in each other's arms, content and peaceful. For the first time in their lives, they both had everything they had ever wanted. They could face anything, so long as they had each other. They were whole, and it was perfect.