The zipper rattled and nearly ripped away from the fabric as Sam tore into the tent. He had always hated camping, and when they were stuck in the middle of nowhere, it sucked. As it was, they were on a resort campground, working a case, but it was not anywhere Sam was comfortable being.

"I still say you knew what we were getting into," Sam grumbled as he kicked off the flip-flops he was wearing.

Dean had the nerve to look affronted. "No I didn't!"

"You fucking liar! You did the research for this one! I should have known something was up when you had all the facts we needed for a basic salt and burn that was 300 miles out of our way. You even got the damn tent! You knew I'd be happy you finally did some damn digging yourself and I wouldn't question it. You just told me 'Bluebonnet Park.' You forgot to tell me it was a fucking nudist colony!"

Dean rose up off his spot on the tent floor. "Dude, chill out, okay? It's not that bad. You act like you've never seen naked people before."

"That's not the problem," Sam replied, rolling his eyes.

"Then what is?!"

"The problem is that we're going along with it!"

Dean was shocked into silence for a moment. "Seriously? I know you're all modest and shit, but there was that time when you were about four. I was trying to get us rinsed off at the pool after I snuck us in with a birthday party." Dean stopped, chuckling. "You tore off your trunks and ran out of the bathroom before I could catch you."

"That's not the same and you know it."

"Then what? I mean," he picked up one of the flip-flops on the floor, "I can't stand these things and I miss my boots, but I thought you'd like 'em."

"It's not that, although they're not that smart on a hunt."

"Then what the fuck is it?!" Sam's face shut down and he turned away, busying himself with his sleeping bag. "Fine. Whatever," he retorted, slipping his shoes back on. "I'm going to the pool. Marissa asked to meet me for drinks and that's better than hanging in here with your bitchy ass." He got up and made his way back to the tent entrance. When he stopped to bend over and grab his towel, Sam snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him down. Arms and legs flailed around for a moment before Sam grabbed Dean's hands and pinned them above his head, stretching his body over to hold Dean down.

"No," Sam muttered, before attacking Dean's mouth with his own. There was a moment where Dean was frozen, trying to understand what was going on. Then his tongue was dueling with Sam's, a fierce thrust and parry between them. Sam tore away and began working down Dean's neck, mouthing along the wider than usual expanse of skin. He drifted down to the right side of the chest, opposite Dean's tattoo and began alternating sharp bites and gentle sucks until his pec was sufficiently marked in a way that would not be disappearing anytime soon.

Dean pulled him back up and kissed him soundly, not allowing him to let go as he threaded his fingers into his brother's hair. Sam's hands were drifting downward, past both of their rapidly growing erections to slip under Dean and into the cleft of his ass. Dean moaned at the contact and spread his legs, allowing Sam easier access. Sam rubbed against his hole, resulting in a slight tug on his hair, before he broke away momentarily to find the lube and condoms stashed in his duffle bag.

Sam slathered his fingers and pushed one in knuckle-deep, moving it around slightly before pressing further. He thrust it in and out, then added another and twisted, scissoring deep within his brother. He groaned into Dean's mouth at how tight he was before finding his prostate and rubbing it, causing Dean to break the kiss with a barely breathed, "Son of a bitch." He continued his ministrations, opening Dean up as quickly and semi-carefully as possible. The burning need was building faster, until Dean was easily taking three fingers and saying, "Dammit, Sammy." Sam took that as his cue and pulled his hand away, nearly laughing as Dean whimpered with the loss of contact. He grabbed the condom and tore it open with his teeth, rolling it on quickly and adding plenty of lube. Then, sitting up and spreading Dean's legs so he had a clear view of the waiting hole, he slowly, steadily, sank in to the root.

Dean tried to move, to push back and get going somewhere, but Sam was holding his hips, tight. "Do you know why I don't like this place?" Sam asked, calm as you please, like he wasn't balls deep in Dean. Dean responded with a look that clearly said, You wanna talk about this NOW? Sam leaned down and brushed a kiss to Dean's ear before whispering, "Because these people are getting to see you. All of you." He punctuated it with a small thrust, and Dean tried to move against him, but Sam's grip was tight enough to bruise, which he was starting to believe was the intention. "They get to see what no one but me should get to see, and if they wanted, they could imagine what you would look like, sprawled out," thrust, "moaning," thrust, "desperate," thrust. "They shouldn't be able to have that," he muttered once again, before leaning back up and pulling out almost all the way, then thrusting back in again, deep. Dean hitched his legs up around Sam's waist and Sam pounded into him, hitting his prostate with each stroke. Dean was indeed sprawled out, moaning, and desperate, jacking his own cock with a need to come. His eyes rolled up into his head as he spilled between them, and Sam faltered slightly before continuing, his movements becoming erratic. He thrust once, twice, three times before coming into the condom, growling, "Mine."

He fell forward, supporting himself on his forearms over Dean. The older Winchester looked at his brother and pulled his head off the ground to kiss him, slow and gentle. As the making out continued, Sam pulled out, swallowing the hiss of discomfort. He slipped off to the side, still trading lazy kisses. After a while, they stopped. Dean sat up and started looking for a washcloth while Sam removed the condom and rummaged around for their trash bag to stow it away. He lay back on his sleeping bag, trying to get up the energy to crawl into it.

Dean unzipped his bag completely and nudged Sam in the side with his foot. Sam lifted his head and looked at him questioningly. In response, Dean forcibly rolled his brother off his sleeping bag and unzipped that one as well, laying the two on top of each other for a make-shift bed. Sam looked up with a bitchface at being disturbed, then got the hint and crawled over. He slipped under the upper cover and lay on his side, face-to-face with Dean.

Dean pressed a kiss to his forehead, then pulled back. "Just because they might want me doesn't mean I want them. It's that simple." Then he smirked and continued, "Although if it gets these kind of results, I might have to make you jealous more often." Sam rolled his eyes and Dean kissed him again, this time on the lips. "You're mine and I'm yours and that's the way it's always been. Now go to sleep and none of that cuddling shit. Just because we shared feelings doesn't mean we're girls." But he rolled so his back was to Sam and didn't complain when Sam snaked an arm around his waist and pulled their bodies flush, so it was just a token protest. Sam smiled into his Dean's hair and drifted off, wondering what Marissa would think in the morning when she saw those bruises.