A/N: Hey guys! It's been quite a long time... Anyway, here is one of the oneshots I promised. It was actually pretty PWP in the beginning, turning slightly plotty near the end, I don't even know why.
I have been writing on a mutliple-chapter fic as well, which will only be published once it's finished, because I don't want to leave you hanging when school suddenly get too much to be able to write.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and all publicly recognizable characters are property of their respective owners. I do not make profit from this story.
So, enjoy!
*.*.*.
There was something about the way Dean moved. The smooth and predatory perfection usually reserved for hunting had somehow transferred to everyday life, too. Not that hunting wasn't their everyday life now, just the opposite. And not that Sam was watching or anything.
After all, this on and off thing they had going on was entirely casual ever since Sam left for Stanford and there was just no way Sam was obsessed with watching his brother handle a hunting knife with almost reverent care before going for the kill.
Freshly out of hell it had been even more noticeable and Sam wasn't able to ignore it any longer. At least not subconsciously, because he'd still let himself be shot at point blank before really acknowledging it in his head. But the change had been there. Dean had always been aware of his good looks and hunting had come easy. Having tortured souls in hell for ten years as Sam had learned later had left an impression, though.
Now, sitting at the wobbly table in the latest ramshackle motel room, the research Sam should be doing for a run of the mill ghost hunt was reduced to ignoring the open laptop in front of him.
Dean was right there in the room with him and working out, claiming the recent hunts had been too much research and not enough action to keep all those burgers from showing on his body. And apparently, Dean's enhanced way of moving had transferred to doing push-ups, too.
Of course.
Sam shook his head to clear the hazy fog settling there.
With absolutely no blood left in his upstairs brain and as such no chance of effective research, Sam glanced at the little numbers on the laptop screen, wrecking his brain for a way out of the room to keep himself sane.
12:38
Relieved, Sam slammed the laptop shut, and hurried towards the door leaving his jacket hanging over the chair. He was feeling much too hot and feverish for his taste anyway.
"I'mma go and grab something to eat," he announced quickly to Dean, not turning to look back or waiting for any kind of confirmation.
He could feel his brother's stare fixed on him right until he kicked the door closed with his foot, rattling it in its hinges.
The 15-minute walk to the nearest diner had taken only slightly more than 7 minutes with the way he pushed his legs faster and made his stride longer than usual, almost full on running. Still, it wasn't nearly enough exertion for Sam to keep his brain and body occupied elsewhere, meaning not thinking about his half-naked brother working out on the floor back in the motel.
Recognizing distraction as a futile attempt at control, Sam walked three times as slow as normal on the way back, trying to clear his head out with fresh air.
He was half-tempted to burst the door open, round on Dean and say "I want to fuck you, c'mon," but if he'd learned anything about this thing they had it was that it only happened after especially difficult hunts, rendering them both desperate and horny with adrenaline. The early years had been different. Then again, they had been different in the early years, much more open with each other. It had been about more than the physical relief.
After Jessica's death, they had picked up where they left off - meaning physically. Emotionally, though, Sam was a wreck, crippled with grief and anger and Dean had still been angry at him for abandoning him.
The emotional side of their sexual relationship stayed buried.
Still, Sam could blame it on leftover energy from their last hunts – which honestly had been far too scientific – and just initiate something. He was sure Dean wouldn't mind much less protest.
The problem was something else. Sam wasn't yearning to get fucked on one of the cheap beds with their threadbare linen sheets. He wanted to see his brother come apart under him, wanted to make Dean scream with pleasure while he was buried inside of him.
It wasn't that they'd never done it that way before. Neither of them had ever restricted himself to topping or bottoming. It was just something that was lost in hell.
And while he was absolutely sure about Dean being on board with having sex when – if – Sam asked, he was only pretty sure about Dean giving in to him if he begged for it. Sam didn't want to be the one begging, not this time, and pretty sure wasn't enough with the way things stood between them.
So, Sam decided, he would not bring it up. Taking a deep breath, Sam eased the door open gently as he would any other time and struggled for normalcy as he set the food on the table, studiously ignoring the small beads of water running down his brother's tan collarbone and disappearing under the small towel when Dean emerged from the bathroom followed by a thick cloud of steam.
And if he didn't succeed with not staring for more than ten seconds at a time until his brother was fully dressed, well, the last hunts had left him bored.
That was all it was.
*.*.*.
Sam let out a frustrated huff and flopped down face-first into the bed, burying his head in the smell of the cheap detergent used on the pillowcase.
Another town, another hunt. Vampire this time. It should have been enough to keep his brain and body occupied. Should have been being the important part, because it obviously wasn't.
With all that's been going on with angels and such, a petty little vampire didn't provide the same thrill as it used to. On top of that, everything else seemed to be quiet, too – no Castiel to be seen.
The one time Sam actually wanted – needed – an exciting hunt, there was none to be found. Just his luck, really.
And if that wasn't enough, Dean seemed to be riling him up on purpose.
It had taken Sam a while to notice, because his brother had never exactly been body-shy. Still, the way he kept parading around with only a towel on his hips for hours before getting dressed and sleeping in only his boxers wasn't quite normal.
Oh, and the way Dean kept jerking off in the bed next to his instead of the shower was probably an indication, too.
Don't think about that, don't think about that. Think about the last ugly ghoul you hunted.
Even that wasn't enough to get this unhealthy obsession out of his mind for more than a few minutes at a time. Groaning, Sam rolled onto his back to take the pressure off his dick before he started humping the bed.
Staring blankly at the ceiling, Sam decided he needed a plan.
The bathroom door opening and Dean walking out – again with only a towel as coverage – interrupted his musings. Maybe it would help if they just had sex now. It probably wouldn't cure this insanity, but Sam would take what he could for now.
With a renewed sense of determination, Sam waited until Dean sat down on the edge of his bed, rummaging in his duffel for a pair of boxers to sleep in. As soon as his brother started pulling them on, Sam stilled his hands, looking him in the eyes and hopefully making his intent clear.
When Dean's eyes darkened ever so slightly and the duffel fell from his knees to the ground with a dull thud, Sam yanked his sleeping t-shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor next to the bag. Dean's gaze raked over him slowly, but Sam didn't have any patience left. Straddling Dean with one knee on either side of his hips, he steadied himself with one hand while pushing his brother back to lie on the bed, all the while moving down with him.
Wordlessly, Sam let some of his weight rest on Dean, grinding their hips together slowly and earning a breathy groan from Dean for his efforts.
Sam kept the rest of his weight on his elbows on either side of Dean's head, pressing their lips together. When Dean parted his lips under his, he pushed his tongue inside, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of the wet heat and the slight rush of dominance.
Sam didn't move when Dean raised one of his legs, pressing the other to the bed to gain leverage. He offered no resistance when his brother used the well-practiced move to flip their positions on the bed, hands already fumbling at the waistband of Sam's sleeping pants and dragging them down.
And although it wasn't quite what he yearned for, Sam let himself enjoy the rather hurried preparation and the rough drag of Dean's cock sliding into his ass. He keened when Dean hit his prostrate dead on just like he always did.
He loved getting fucked by Dean even if it wasn't making love anymore, hadn't been for a long time.
Despite his mind-blowing orgasm crowding vision with black the fantasy of finally getting to take Dean again the way he wanted weren't drowned out.
But Sam had devised a plan and he was more than happy to let the anticipation build.
The next day, Sam was practically bouncing with excitement. He was giddy in a completely manly way at the lingering burn in his backside that was a constant reminder of what he had planned. Combined with the slight anxiety and nervousness – because he wasn't even remotely sure it would work on Dean – well, he was pretty much impossible to put up with.
Dean noticed, Sam could practically feel his brother's discerning stare whenever he looked away. Oddly, instead of being angry or exasperated, it only added to the weird thrill coursing through him. Despite that, both of them steered clear of broaching the subject.
They were still in the motel, too worn out to immediately get back on the road thanks to their nightly activities. Sam was decidedly sore, still definitely on the right side of pain. He wouldn't tell Dean that, though. That was something for after. For right now, Sam attempted to copy his brother's tactics some and do everything in his power to make Dean ache.
Not one for subtlety, he simply opted to saunter to the bathroom directly from the bed, leaving his clothing on the floor where it had landed the night before.
Just before he pushed the door closed, he chanced a glance back at Dean who was still on the bed, propped up on one elbow and yes, certainly staring at his ass with dark and hungry eyes.
Making a split-decision, Sam left the door open just enough for his brother to see him in the shower, scrubbing his body down and bending over far more than necessary to clean himself.
When he came out and Dean hadn't moved an inch from his previous position, Sam gained just a little bit more confidence in his plan. While drying off, he slowly raked his eyes for his brother's form appreciatively, ensuring that Dean took notice of it.
Finally back on the road without any particular route in mind, Sam continued his little charade. Whenever he got the opportunity, he turned everyday things sexual. It was a slightly girly thing to do, he thought, but Sam was nothing if not determined.
And when Dean kept looking anywhere but at Sam sucking deliberately on a popsicle he'd demanded Dean get for him from a gas stop, Sam couldn't quite hide a sly smirk.
Thankfully, because his brother was staring off in the distance – still at the gas stop, there was no way Dean would let him eat ice cream in the Impala – the agenda behind Sam's actions stayed hidden.
As the day wore on, Dean's mood worsened in tandem to Sam's improving one. Finally, he declared they'd had enough driving for one day, testament to how frustrated he really was.
Happily, Sam found himself sprawled on another creaky bed in another rundown motel. The only difference being the absence of his brother who basically dumped Sam in the room and then taken off to the nearest bar.
Sam didn't really mind. Dean would flirt with the women there, getting horny. Of course, there was the risk of Dean actually having sex with one and getting off, which would ruin all the hard work from today. But Sam was reasonably sure that all Dean would do today was drinking. Despite the occasional fling, Dean wasn't quite as open anymore – meaning the sex with Sam was obviously the better choice as Sam knew to interpret his moods and Dean didn't have to worry about breaking him if things got a little rougher in bed.
It was just after one when the door opened and Dean returned from his trip to the bar, heading straight for the bathroom after quickly checking the salt lines Sam had lain out.
Sam pondered for a moment if Dean was with it enough for his plan to continue. No matter the circumstances or how he might want it – crave it – he never wanted to take advantage of Dean while he was drunk. He'd just judge Dean's mental state when he came out of the bathroom, he decided.
Dean coming out after his shower seeming completely sober and controlled actually fit Sam's plan better than anticipated because at the sight of glistening tan skin spanning across his brother's broad shoulders and the tiny towel concealing almost nothing at all Sam suddenly wasn't so sure he could have resisted even if he'd wanted to.
Time to make his move.
"Dean?"
Despite his voice being low and breathy, Dean startled a bit. He whipped his head around to look at Sam sprawled on top of the covers, hands under his head and legs spread slightly, dressed only in his boxers.
Sam had to suppress a smirk when Dean looked anywhere but at him as he spoke.
"Yeah, Sam?"
No matter how many times Sam had envisioned this moment, his stomach fluttered in anticipation. This was important to get right and he only had one try so he had to tread carefully.
"C'mere."
Dean froze for a second, now completely turned away so Sam couldn't see his expression.
"No." The reply sounded choked and forced out through clenched teeth. Still, Sam hadn't counted on such a clear rejection and his voice lost its husky tone and was simply bewildered instead.
"Why not?" He'd thought that his brother might be hesitant at first or would try to have sex the way it usually went, but this? It almost seemed as if Dean wasn't up to sex at all right now and that was just beyond his comprehension.
Dean turned around very slowly as if to steel himself and stared at Sam's face for a long moment before his eyes strayed lower. A pained expression flitted across his face while he shook his head minutely.
When he spoke up it lacked the previous coldness. Instead, it was hot with poorly contained anger and frustration.
"I just jerked off in the shower. I'm not going to come anywhere near you now, so you can turn me on and then leave me hanging again," Dean hissed out finally, rubbing a hand over his mouth.
"Dean – " Sam tried to interrupt, his voice back to low and sensual. Apparently it was too low for his brother to notice over his own rambling.
"I mean seriously, I know I always call you a girl, but did you really turn into one suddenly? It's like you purposely make me want you only to cockblock me with the 'I've got a headache' thing. So no, you can go fuck yourself if you think – "
"Dean!"
That brought his brother up short, the room silent and tense.
"Come here, Dean. I promise to take care of you." Sam didn't receive any acknowledgement, so he added "Come here, please," to make his point clear.
And because Dean wasn't one to deny Sam anything if at all possible, he did. Hesitantly at first, but Sam easily dragged him down on the bed with him, Dean on top to leave him room to back away if he so wanted.
Still, Dean stayed tense as Sam cupped his face with warm hands on either side and kissed him slowly and gently, drawing away to mouth the skin behind one ear when he got next to no reaction.
"Kiss me, Dean," he breathed against his brother's ear, letting the words send vibrations through the damp skin he'd just licked.
And then it was like a dam had broken. Dean grabbed his wrists and pinned them above Sam's head to the mattress, pressing his lips to Sam's in desperation with a low growl and invading his mouth with his tongue in urgent movements. Sam was already breathless when Dean started grinding his hips down on Sam's erection, the towel loosening and falling away to the floor.
With a loud moan, Sam tried to gather his thoughts and think about what the next step was, because right now he'd have been very happy to let this continue forever.
Even without the use of his hands, Sam quickly flipped their positions on the bed, taking control for a few moments to nip at Dean's neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his chest until he reached one nipple. Drawing it in his mouth, he circled it with his tongue until it was hard, flicking it lightly while pinching the other and gently scratching it with a blunt nail.
When Dean threw his head back on the pillow and tangled his hands in Sam's long hair, he moved down further. Despite Dean's actions in the shower, his cock had no problem with getting into things and was already almost fully hard when Sam curled his hand around the base, drawing his hand up slowly but with a rough grip just as he knew Dean liked.
"Sam…" Already rough and gravelly deep from arousal, the tone held a warning and a plea at the same time.
Dean's hands tightened in his hair, pulling Sam up again before he could get Dean's cock in his mouth and Sam ceded control easily, sliding up smoothly and going pliant under Dean's hands when their positions were reversed again.
Focused entirely on his fantasy of what would come soon, Sam didn't even notice when Dean dug out the lube from the nightstand or slicked up his fingers.
He whimpered slightly as Dean circled one finger around his hole in teasingly light motions. Dean distracted him thoroughly when he proceeded to thrust his tongue into Sam's mouth before easing the finger in further.
Sam hissed harshly and broke the kiss. He'd expected to have to exaggerate quite a bit even though he'd timed it exactly right so that he'd be visibly sore from their last time. Now, he found that he really had to get his plan to work because it hurt much more than he'd thought possible, a dull ache that sent sharp jolts of pain through him whenever Dean's finger moved inside him.
Thankfully, Dean stopped automatically, his finger stilling its exploration and when Sam opened his eyes, his brother's gaze was concerned even with the pupils blown and the arousal lingering in his gaze.
"Sam? Are you okay?" he questioned in a gentle tone, the urgency gone.
Sam instantly flushed with guilt at setting this up like this. He knew his big brother would do anything for him, even if it hurt him and Sam was deliberately exploiting his weakness to get what he wanted.
"I'm sorry," he choked around his suddenly too tight throat, his voice breaking somewhere near the end while his eyes filled up.
No matter how much he may want it, no fantasy gave him the right to torment his brother like that and combined with the lingering, throbbing ache where Dean's finger was stretching him open, it was simply too much for Sam to take and he tried to bury his head in the pillow as much as possible.
Dean immediately withdrew his finger carefully, rolling off of Sam and drawing him into a tight embrace.
"Shh… Don't say that. We don't have to do anything if you're not up for it, you know that. You don't have to apologize," he assured Sam, still concerned over the rather sudden change, need all but forgotten at seeing Sam hurt and in pain.
The selflessness only evoked more shame on Sam's part and drew up soft sobs. Sam turned in Dean's arms, breathing in his comforting scent and closing his eyes to control the tears.
"What is it? Are you still sore from yesterday?," Dean questioned softly. "I should have known, I'm sorry, Sammy."
Knowing his brother's tendency to drown himself in guilt, Sam tried stopping his thought right there with a quick "It's nothing," but he should have known that would only convince Dean that he was in more pain than he let on. Which was true, but still, it was Sam's fault for planning this in the first place.
Dean's incredulous glare on him held a clear message of "I don't believe you".
"You're a crying and shivering mess in my arms because one finger was too much. I think that's a bit more than nothing."
Sam bristled at being described as a crying mess and started to contradict Dean when his body betrayed him as he shifted and another shock of pain made him tense and let out a pained breath.
Dean's arms squeezed him tighter for a second, one hand moving up to brush Sam's hair out of his face before kissing his forehead lightly.
"Let me see," he whispered.
At first, Sam was too out of it to get the implications of that particular request.
Bonelessly, he let Dean roll him over onto his stomach, relaxing at the warmth of his brother's body next to his, the wet heat of his mouth on his neck. Then Dean moved lower, laying a comforting hand on the small of Sam's back and sitting back on his knees.
The feeling of the hand moving lower to spread his cheeks apart, made Sam gasp and tense, the intent of Dean's actions finally sinking in.
"No," he said, trying to struggle and turn around, the helplessness of his position not helping his emotional distress. "Stop!"
Gently, Dean stilled his brother's struggling, drawing his hands back in order not to make himself appear threatening or as if he was disregarding Sam's wishes.
"Sammy… Look, it's my fault we were too rough yesterday and I never should have thought of taking you again today. We'll stop, I promise, but I have to check for injuries. Please, Sam, let me look."
Logically, Sam knew that Dean had a point. He wasn't at all comfortable at being so exposed right now, even though he really shouldn't feel that way with what all else they did.
He couldn't honestly say he wanted to risk anything, so he had no choice. And, after all, he trusted Dean. Slowly, he relaxed back into the bed, resigning himself to his fate. Maybe this was justice for his selfish behavior.
"Okay," he ground out with a sigh.
"Just relax," Dean mumbled, already moving back to his previous position and spreading Sam open.
When a finger brushed over his hole, Sam still gasped, but he didn't move away.
Just like that it was over, Dean lying next to him again and rolling Sam on his side facing him, kissing him chastely.
"You're obviously sore. Nothing torn, though, so I guess that's something. Only red and swollen up a bit." Leaving Sam no time to comment, Dean sighed and continued.
"Why didn't you say something sooner? Geez, Sam, I could have seriously hurt you!"
Sam knew that Dean was only concerned and worried but he didn't deserve it.
"It's… I…," he started, not sure how to say what he meant. Swallowing heavily, he opted to just say it.
"I planned it like this."
"What?"
Sam couldn't look at Dean while he explained, so he hung his head low and closed his eyes.
"I… timed it like this so I'd still be sore. I tried riling you up today, so that when you noticed I was sore and realized we couldn't do it like this, you'd be too turned on to mind if I… " Sam opened his eyes again, suddenly more desperate to convey how sorry he was than to hide his shame.
"I hoped you'd let me make love to you instead."
Sam prepared himself for his brother's words when he saw the shocked and disapproving look in his eyes. He didn't have to wait long before Dean spoke.
"Sam… You can't risk your health like that! I… can't do this if I can't trust you to take care of yourself and to tell me when you're hurting. If you want to top, then just ask, you know that, don't you?"
"I know, I… Wait, what?"
This time it was Dean who flushed slightly, even if he continued to look concerned with a hint of surprise showing in his eyes.
"If you want to reverse things, you just have to tell me, Sammy. I can't deny that I'm more used to topping, but only because you seemed happy to let it go on like that. I love having you in me, you just never… let me know you wanted it, too."
"Dean, I've been fantasizing about that for weeks. I didn't say something because I thought you were uncomfortable with it, y'know, because we've never done it since… ," Sam trailed off, not wanting to ruin the moment by talking about Dean going to hell and all the horrors he must've endured there.
His brother didn't seem too put out by it, though, surging forward to press his lips against Sam's, the kiss already hot and sloppy.
The last of Sam's resolve to wait a bit longer until they'd had time to process everything was broken away by Dean sliding his lips along his neck, mumbling against his earlobe. "Make love to me, Sammy. I need you."
Sam mentally promised Dean to go slow, not only because it had been so long for his brother but also because he was unusually emotional about this and Sam wanted to draw out every moment of it now that it was finally happening.
He pushed against Dean's shoulder with one hand to get him on his back before laying on top of him, tweaking his nipples like he'd done earlier while kissing him with new determination.
This time, Dean didn't stop him when he moved down and let his mouth hover over Dean's erection, looking up through his lashes for permission. At Dean's shaky nod, Sam smiled in triumph, swiping his tongue over the head and swirling it around.
Dean's head fell back with a drawn out moan, followed by a breathy "fuck" and Sam judged it as a sign to continue. He closed his lips tightly around the head, sealing them and creating as much suction as he could before moving down with his tongue pressing against the underside.
Feeling like he had to atone for ruining things with his ridiculous plan earlier, Sam concentrated on not choking up when Dean hit the back of his throat, fighting to keep his muscles relaxed. He backed up an inch to take a deep breath and swallowed around the familiar weight in his mouth when he was moving down again, pinning Dean's hips to the bed with one arm.
"Sam, what… You don't have to – God, Sam!" Ignoring him, Sam continued.
Sliding down until his nose pressed against Dean's hips and he couldn't possibly go any further, he moaned and moved his tongue around in languid patterns before bobbing his head up and down steadily, setting a quick rhythm which soon had Dean lifting his hips up in time with him.
Finally, Sam drew off with one last flick of his tongue against the slit, earning him a choked off groan.
Smiling shyly, he abandoned all the scheming and decided to ask for what he wanted.
"Dean," he mumbled, his voice strained from his exertions. Sam waited until his brother's eyes opened, gaze wide and hungry.
"I want to make love to you," he mouthed against Dean's lips, pausing for a passionate kiss before locking eyes again. "Will you let me?"
Dean's gaze was sincere and trusting when he groaned out a "yes" in response, immediately followed by curses when Sam showed his appreciation by lightly biting his nipples.
Fumbling with the lube, Sam felt an underlying layer of hesitancy and nervousness that hadn't been there since the first few times he'd taken Dean. Somehow, this didn't feel like any other time. Instead, this felt more like it used to in the beginning, more about making love than fucking.
Knowing it had been a long time for Dean, he massaged his shoulders with one hand to keep him relaxed while teasing his entrance with one finger before slowly pressing inside.
He couldn't help the breath that escaped him in a rush, imagining what the tight heat around his finger would feel like around his dick.
"You're so tight, Dean." Sam watched his brother's face carefully for signs of pain, but when he slid deeper, the gasp he got was definitely not from pain. "So hot with my finger spreading you open."
After a few thrusts, he came back with two, wriggling them inside. While getting them deeper with shallow pumps, Sam distracted Dean with his tongue, mimicking the movements from his fingers in the same rhythm. Dean had gone completely silent except for his rapid breaths, even though Sam wasn't sure if it was from discomfort or to keep himself in control. Either way, Sam wanted to hear his brother.
As soon as he could spread them around with ease, he curled his hand around Dean's still fully hard cock and stroked while adding a third finger and curling them up, having memorized the precise movement years ago.
Dean's body gave a jolt, his cock twitching in Sam's grip and Sam watched in satisfaction as his eyes that had been focused on Sam the entire time, rolled back in his head, a suppressed moan working its way out of his mouth.
Sam eased up his strokes, not wanting Dean to come yet, but stabbing his fingers insistently against that particular spot until Dean was writhing underneath his fingers before stilling completely. Dean gave a frustrated whine that he couldn't quite stifle in time and fixed an incredulous glare at Sam. Sam only smiled slightly in response.
"I wanna hear you, Dean… Just let go," and with that he pressed his fingers up again, rubbing circles against Dean's inner walls.
Dean let out a long wail that could almost qualify as a scream.
"Sam… Do it. I – fuck – I need you."
Groaning at Dean's fucked out voice, deep and raw, Sam slicked his cock up hurriedly and curled his hands around Dean's thighs, pushing them up and spreading them bent at the knee, rendering Dean open und vulnerable before lining himself up, keeping the head of his cock resting at his brother's entrance without pressing in.
Needing to make sure, to take care of Dean as Dean always took care of him, Sam looked up shyly.
"Are you – "
Dean's legs suddenly locked around his hips in one smooth motion and pulled, pushing Sam forward until tight heat enclosed the head of his cock.
"Shit." Sam stayed motionless, fearing to lose the last thread of his control at the feel of his brother clenching around him like a vice. He could barely focus on the pressure on his back from Dean's legs trying to draw him in further.
When Dean felt the resistance, stopping Sam from sliding in deeper, he pushed up with his hips, encouraging Sam to thrust deeper.
"I'm sure, Sam. I can take it, just please, Sammy. Deeper. Fuck. Please!"
Hearing Dean almost begging for his cock was too much for Sam and in one controlled push of his hips he buried his cock in Dean to the hilt, stopping to check Dean's face again before starting up slow and shallow thrusts.
Drawing out a little more each time, Sam angled his hips, feeling Dean's muscles lock even tighter around him.
"Jesus, Sam – uh – faster."
Sam complied, fucking Dean with hard and long thrusts that rocked Dean's body up on the bed, reducing his brother's demands to broken moans and finally hoarse screams, when Sam gripped Dean's cock and stroked him while twisting his head the way he knew drove Dean crazy.
After a dozen strokes of his hand, he felt Dean clenching up, his whole body going taut and rigid, before he came, crying out Sam's name and shooting ropes of milky white come on both their stomachs. Sam's mind flashed to all the images of Dean hunting in recent times in that predatory way of his that Sam had used as jerk-off material and his cock twitched buried in his brother.
The sight of his brother coming undone beneath him and the fluttering of his hole around his cock threw Sam over the edge. He slid in as deep as he could, coming with a groan and filling Dean up with cum, pumping it in through the aftershocks as he felt Dean going limp.
Sam swallowed Dean's whimper with a hot kiss when he drew out gently, rolling off and tucking Dean against his side, completely boneless and relaxed.
Recovering his breathing, Sam got up and stashed the lube away before fetching a warm washcloth to wipe them clean with, throwing it in the sink when he was done. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to wake up sticky and uncomfortable, paired with the sore muscles that would surely be there because Dean wasn't used to this anymore.
Even Sam could still feel the aching pain from the night before, although reduced to a dull throb once more.
Sam hurried to get back to Dean to make sure he was okay.
When he lay back down, Dean seemed to be sleeping already. Looking closer, Sam could make out the telltale signs of Dean pretending to be asleep and his worry increased a notch.
He carefully kept a semblance of distance between them, despite wanting to cuddle up and enjoy his brother's warmth against his skin. He was afraid Dean wouldn't want to be touched if he'd hurt him, though.
Too restless and concerned to play along with Dean's fake sleeping, Sam tried to get his hazy mind to cooperate even through the fluttering of his stomach.
"Dean? Are you… D-Did I hurt you?" he asked carefully, a bit shaky with fear of his brother's response. He was sure he'd been careful but Dean had pushed him and demanded more and Sam had been too weak to deny. He should have, dammit, he should never have given in when he knew how long it had been for his brother.
Dean's voice penetrated his nervous musings.
"No," he said and it sounded sincere even though the tone was too flat to be in any way reassuring.
Sam let out a relieved breath, glad that he hadn't hurt Dean even though he was even more worried about what else could be wrong now.
Before he could think too much on it, he asked the question running through his mind on auto-repeat.
"Can I touch you?"
Dean's surprised – almost shocked – eyes fixed on him now, vulnerable and unsure. And suddenly, Sam thought he knew what the problem was.
"I – Yeah."
Sam turned and with a strong arm around Dean's shoulder, he dragged Dean on his side facing him, drawing him close and tangling their legs together.
With his eyes open, he kissed Dean gently again, mouth closed, a simple brush of lips that was more intimate than sexual. His brother's face relaxed a bit, the line on his forehead vanishing and his lids closing naturally instead of being pressed shut.
Separating their lips by less than an inch, Sam waited patiently for Dean's eyes to open so he could convey the truth of his words with his gaze locked with Dean's.
"I love you."
And after a few beats of silence, Dean relaxed completely against him, mumbling a soft "I love you, too," back.
Sam squeezed his arms around his brother once as reassurance and silent promise, letting Dean bury his face in the crook of his neck and combing his fingers through Dean's short hair.
Almost asleep, Sam felt overwhelmed with the knowledge that Dean – the new, smooth Dean that was somehow still Dean – had given this to him.
"Love you, De."
And from then on, their fucking had turned into lovemaking again, as much as Dean liked to tease Sam for such a girly notion.
Also, Sam laid all carefully executed plans of seduction to rest, asking Dean for what he wanted when a new idea struck him, which – because Sam was creative like that – was quite often.
The End