"What if?"
"What if what?" Dean groans and shifts to his right side, head propped on his hand, the other tracing the bare skin of Sam's shoulder, hip, abdomen. Fingers exploring muscular grooves, Dean's mouth waters, distracted from the conversation at hand as he imagines his hungry tongue following his hands as they work in tandem to map the topography of his brother's body. He shudders at the rawness of the desire that courses beneath his skin.
"It's not unheard of, you know; people do it all the time."
"Yeah, well we're not just people." Heat gathers in Dean's gut and he tries to remember why Sam woke him in the first place, he's certain it's not for naked fun, but he can feel blood rushing to his dick and he knows that his body has other ideas. Dean smirks and slides his hand over the firm muscle of Sam's thigh, his wrist brushing Sam's half-hard cock, a purposeful accident that causes Sam's eyes to flutter shut for a moment.
"Dean, dude, could you not? I'm trying to be serious." Sam squirms away from Dean's eager fingers and sits up pulling the sheet around his waist.
"Sammy." Dean's gravel and whiskey voice wraps around Sam's name like an unspoken vow; thrusting steel intensity filling him until Dean's name rises from the depths of his body. In this moment Sam can feel the searing heat of an orgasm rip through him and hear his brother's name burst from his lips like a flock of geese erupting from a still lake, wings beating, the promise of flight and freedom punctuated by each feather that strokes the air to gain purchase against the sky.
"I want this Dean." A late check-in pulls into the parking lot and headlights pierce the cheap, unlined curtains of the no-tell, motel that the boys stopped at after 12 hours of driving. Sam's face is lit for a moment, knife's edge features sharpened by the harsh whetstone of living on the fringe of reality for a life-time and a half. Dean's heart stutters and he relents.
"Fine, when we get settled in Vermont we can think about getting a cat."
"Think?" Sam leans forward and grips Dean's erection, his thumb ghosting over the slit, smearing the bead of liquid that has gathered at the tip. He makes eye contact with Dean and raises his thumb to his lips; he savors the taste of Dean on his tongue.
"Did I say think? Sammy if you do that again, you can have a freakin' monkey."
"I'll settle for a butterscotch tabby named Grendel."
"You're such a girl, Samantha." Dean chuckles.
Sam pushes Dean onto his back. Skin slips against skin until Sam's body blankets Dean. They surge and buck like the surface of the Bering Sea and ride the tide of their passion into the depth of the moonless night, until they collapse spent and Sam drifts into the calm waters of sleep, sated.
"Anything, Sammy." Dean brushes his palm against Sam's cheek and even in sleep Sam turns toward his touch and sighs. "Anything for you."
