College wasn't quite all Sam had thought it was going to be.
After having moved around literally his entire life on such a frequent basis, never staying in one place for more than a few months, the concept of having a single place to live in and not have to worry about getting kicked out the next morning was, needless to say, a bit foreign to Sam. It wasn't that he hadn't dreamt of it often – he had done so since he was old enough to realize the life that he led wasn't normal – but the reality of it was jarring at first. He had a regular roof over his head, not some third rate motel or truck stop, food that was hot and nutritious, not soup heated in a faulty microwave or a greasy burger bought from some hole in the wall restaurant in a no name town, and a relatively comfortable bed in the suite that he shared with three other guys.
It was all well and good but Sam knew that deep down something was very, very wrong.
Dean wasn't there.
Sam was nearly finished with his freshman year of college, just a week or so of exams left to get through. He had done well academically this year, not even missing a day of classes. He had even built up a relatively close circle of friends, strangers to each other at first just like he was. They were mostly other prelaw and history majors (Sam was considering minoring) and didn't question his background, simply accepting Sam for him, not where he came from. There was this girl, Jess, that he thought he felt something more than friendship towards, but he knew in his heart of hearts that it wasn't meant to be – he was hooked on Dean forever, and he knew it.
The problem was that he hadn't spoken to Dean in eight months. Eight months without so much as sending him a text message to see how he was doing, and Dean hadn't done the same for him either. Sam didn't know if Dean was still mad at him or not, didn't know if Dean even wanted a damn thing to do with him anymore. It twisted like a knife in his guts every time he woke up in the morning, guilt hanging over him like a cloud every moment of the day. He tried to put on a brave face, tried to show his friends and the rest of the world that he was okay, he was going to be fine. However, he couldn't keep the melancholy look off of his face all the time, and he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't cry himself to sleep at least once a week. Dean would be ashamed of him, he knew it, shedding tears like that on such a regular basis.
Sam sighed, pushing back his hair, silently musing to himself that he probably needed to get a haircut. When it was just he and Dean for long periods of time, John gone for the better part of a month or two at a time, Dean would let him grow it out, loved to run his fingers through it after he and Sam had sex. Dean had told him more than once that he had better hair than any girl he'd been with, which normally served to just make Sam jealous and fuck Dean harder. Sam knew in his heart of hearts that Dean only loved him – any sex that either one of them had outside of each other (Sam hadn't been celibate since coming to college, hooking up with guys and girls alike) was just that – sex. After all, he was still a horny teenager (he would be twenty in November.) Dean always came back to him. Even after he and Dean had started their relationship as more than brothers, neither had said anything about being exclusive – but nine out of every ten times Dean had wanted sex, it had been Sam he'd come to, and it'd been Sam's arms he'd gladly woken up in after all of those times, not someone else's.
Or he had anyway, before Sam left him for some degree of normalcy in his life. He was starting to think that it wasn't worth it, because he missed Dean so much that it hurt. Sam sighed and rested his forehead in his hands, noticing the late hour on his alarm clock – he had been studying for his Ancient Law test for nearly six solid hours, and he was hungry. Luckily, there was an all night burger place just down the block from his dorm, and a chocolate milkshake and a cheeseburger would at least alleviate some of the physical discomfort he felt at the moment.
He stood, stretching languorously and shut his laptop and textbooks, forgoing a jacket since it was nearly May and Palo Alto wasn't exactly cold at this time of year. The air outside was warm, a slight breeze ruffling his air as he walked with his hands in his pockets, thinking about Dean and the stupid grin he got on his face when he ate a good burger, sucking the meat juice and ketchup off of his fingers as he bit into it. Sam felt a twinge of arousal as he thought about Dean sucking on his fingers and licking them clean – how many burger joints had he and Dean gone to where he'd wound up with Dean's foot in his crotch as he made the most pornographic sounds imaginable for a piece of meat stuck between two slices of bread? A lot, Sam mused, a rush of memories flooding his mind and turning down the corners of his mouth even further.
There were only a couple people in the small restaurant, both students with their heads buried in textbooks, absently eating fries and turning the pages with fingers half-heartedly wiped on brown paper napkins. Dean hated those, said that they fell apart way too easily to enjoy a hamburger properly. Sam smiled to himself, missing the pickle-tinged kisses Dean would give him afterwards, full and happy. He stepped up to the counter where the waitress, a pleasant looking girl named Ashley gave him a tired smile and asked what he would like. Sam ordered a cheeseburger, waffle fries, and a chocolate milkshake, getting all of it to go. He perched himself on a barstool, waiting.
Sam thought about what he had to look forward to over the next few weeks – he was going to be taking summer classes, intent on doing as much as he could to graduate early and get into law school. Some of his friends lived in San Francisco, and he could certainly go and visit them if he wanted. For the most part though he'd be working in the campus library and studying, fighting feelings of wanting Dean back.
He wasn't looking forward to it, and there was only one way to fix it.
Sam pulled out his phone, checking for messages. There were none, so he closed and opened his contacts menu five times before bothering to scroll down to Dean's name, which he still hadn't erased the heart emoticon that was next to him – so what, he loved Dean like that. Sam's finger was still hovering over the call button when Ashley brought him his food and set it on the counter before him, wishing him a good night. Sam made a non-committal sound of thanks and picked up the bag, shoving the phone back in his pocket. He was afraid, afraid that Dean wouldn't answer, wouldn't respond in anyway.
Sam sighed and walked back to his building as fast as he could, suddenly emotional again. He got back to his room, small but private and began to eat, not tasting the burger (which any other day would have been delicious but his taste buds weren't working right now) and sighing, the smell of leather and gunpowder in his nose, a smell memorized and burned into his brain after so many nights of Dean holding him close, his arms wrapped around Sam's back as he made slow, sweet love to him. Those were the best ones, between hunts and when John would get two rooms, saying that he needed a warm body for the night. It meant more time for them, time for them to explore each other's bodies, time to let Sam know just how much Dean meant to him, how much that this wonderful, crazy thing between them meant to him.
Sam missed it more than anything in the world, and he'd shoved it away, the only truly good thing in his life. He finished the fries and took two sips of the milkshake before going and putting it in the suite's refrigerator, adding a cursory "do not touch" note to the Styrofoam cup with a black Sharpie. He padded back to his room, closing and locking the door and flopping down on the bed, silently wandering what the hell he was going to do next. He lay there for a long while, staring up at the ceiling, one arm behind his head and the other laying across his stomach, images of Dean flashing over and over again in his mind, Dean naked, Dean shooting a gun, Dean smiling down at him, just Dean over and over again. Sam shut his eyes, shaking his head and wanting, wanting Dean's touch and smell and everything – even the incredibly lame but endearing pop culture references that he made on a far too frequent basis.
Sam found that thinking about Dean naked had taken the spark of arousal he'd felt at the restaurant and fanned it into a fire, slowly spreading through his lower body. He felt his cock fill, straining against the leg of his boxer briefs. Sam let out a long breath, his fingers trailing over the outline of his cock, tight against the not so very loose jeans he was wearing. He had been so wrapped up in studying and thinking that he'd neglected his own body, keeping himself away from the release that was best when he thought of Dean, or when Dean was the one who was playing his body like an instrument, knowing precisely where and how to touch Sam to get him to come apart at the seams. It was that touch that Sam craved more than anything as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, his right hand sliding under his waist hand and the left going up under the front of his shirt, gently brushing and twisting over his left nipple.
Sam moaned, stroking his cock while thinking about Dean's. It was long, not overly so but just right, getting thicker towards the top and ending in a wide-flared, helmet shaped head. Dean's circumcision scar was a dark red in contrast to Sam's lighter pink one, a perfect band around the end of his cock that would nearly glow when he was aroused, blood moving under the skin, especially from Sam's touch. Dean would get really, really wet too, dripping more precome than some girls Sam had been with, especially when Sam would bite his ear and whisper filthy thing in Dean's ear – dirty talk was what got Dean going the fastest, and Sam was a fucking poet with it. One time he'd gotten Dean to come just from telling him how much he wanted to worship his body, not actually doing but saying where he wanted to stick his tongue and fingers, Dean moaning as Sam only touched him with his words.
Sam fixated on that and lifted his shirt over his head, toeing off his shoes and pulling his pants all the way off, leaving him in nothing but his socks. He looked down at his cock, thumb running over the head and smearing a fat drop of precome all over the pinkish-purple skin of his glans, a breathy "fuck" escaping his lips as he felt the not quite gone callus on his thumb rub over the tender flesh. The hand that was on his chest and toying with his nipple went to his mouth, wetting his middle and index fingers, sucking on them as he rubbed the head of his cock over and over again, working himself up until his whole body was taught with arousal, bucking his hips up off the bed and into the tightness of his fist, precome coating his fingers, the not quite smooth enough drag of his hand moving across his cock not enough, wanting Dean's sure fingers to wrap around his length and make him come.
Sam leaned over the edge of the bed and pawed through the bottom drawer of his nightstand, one hand still on his cock and stroking himself, slow movements that would keep him aroused as he searched. He felt around for a few more minutes before his fingers found what he was looking for. First he extracted the lube that he had splurged on (it was long lasting and felt pretty damn close to the real thing) and his dildo, bought two weeks after moving in because he simply couldn't live with being celibate forever, and dammit he was going to shove the closest shaped object to Dean's cock up his ass he could get his hands on if it was the last thing he did.
Of course, it was never going to be as good as the real thing.
Sam sucked the end of the dildo into his mouth, the synthetic flesh tasting faintly of sex toy cleaner and himself, the fake veins feeling almost real against the skin of his tongue, reminding him all too well of how the veins of Dean's cock would swell and bulge out when he was hard. Sam closed his eyes and sucked the dildo further into his mouth, opening his jaw and reaching down to stroke himself again, imagining Dean straddling his chest, his hands on the sides of Sam's head as he fucked Sam's mouth, saying low and rough how fucking sexy Sam looked taking his cock, wanting all of his come down his throat because he was a greedy little slut. Sam could almost hear it for real, the memory of Dean's voice loud and crystal clear in his head. Sam moaned around the fake cock in his mouth, his hips lifting up off the bed, seeking friction that simply wasn't there.
Sam pulled the dildo out of his mouth, watching the strands of his saliva come from the end of it. He set it aside for the moment and reached for the lube he'd placed on the nightstand, uncapping it carefully and pouring it over the toy, making sure it was good and coated. Sam had made the mistake once of not using enough lube and his ass had been sore for days. He shuddered at the memory, spreading his legs and circling a finger around the rim of his entrance, imagining Dean's fingers teasing at him before he entered him, his lips against Sam's and whispering about how good he was going to make it feel for him, how well he was going to take care of his Sammy. A swell of emotion ran through Sam, temporarily slowing the heady rush of hormones that was currently overwhelming him. God he missed him, missed him with every fiber of his being.
Sam finished spreading and pushing the lube into himself, feeling fairly satisfied that when he did this he wouldn't hurt himself. He moaned "Dean" as he held himself apart and slowly pushed the dildo in, the thick, too perfect to be human object filling him, cold but slowly being warmed by his body heat. He felt a tear of pleasure run down his left cheek, his eyes shut as he adjusted the dildo further, grabbing the base of it and slowly beginning to fuck himself with it, the other hand wrapped around his cock.
He thought of the last time Dean had fucked him, in the back seat of the Impala, Sam's fingernails digging into the hard flesh of Dean's back as the seat squeaked underneath them, tears rolling down both of their faces because they knew it was going to be the last time they did this for awhile, maybe the last time ever. Sam had looked deep into Dean's eyes, impossibly dark green and silently pleading please don't go, stay with me forever. Sam had wanted to say yes, had wanted to run away with Dean, leave the life behind and it just be the two of them, a promise that Sam wanted to hear him say but he knew it wouldn't be. Sam had screwed his eyes shut and told Dean to fuck him harder, their breath fogging the windows and rocking the car on its frame, Sam coming while yelling Dean's name at the top of his lungs.
Sam still carried that memory with him, how broken Dean had looked afterwards, clinging to Sam and saying "please" over and over again, his tears soaking the skin of Sam's chest. Sam wanted to chase the memory away, didn't want to remember the hurt in Dean's eyes – but he did, every second of those last hours together as clear as day in his mind. He sobbed half with pleasure, half with pain as he found his prostate over and over again with the dildo, speeding up and fucking himself faster, his breath coming out in pants, his eyes closed, seeing Dean, Dean's body, everything his older brother that he loved more than anyone else in the world.
There was a moment of time standing still right before he climaxed, Dean saying in his mind "Come for me Sam" and he did, come shooting out in long arcs all the way up his body, two bursts of it hitting his chin and open mouth, the sudden burst of his own flavor making him gasp and shudder with pleasure, his hand losing its rhythm as he continued to try to fuck himself, trying to keep a hold of that purity of pleasure that he had come to associate with Dean. He finally collapsed back to his bed, the mattress giving a groan of protest as Sam's weight settled back against it.
Sam licked his lips, tasting the come on his chin. He closed his eyes and made a sound of contentment, his lust sated for a little bit anyway. He extracted the dildo from his ass, dropping it to the bed next to him as he trailed his fingers through the mess of come on his stomach, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, imagining it was Dean's. Sam loved the taste of Dean's come, loved having it inside him. Dean would smear it around on his fucked out lips after Sam had blown him, his face full of awe from the fact that Sam was willing to give himself to Dean like this, hand gently cupping the side of Sam's face as he milked every last drop of come from Dean.
Sam gave his cock one more long stroke and then released it, sighing with a greater degree of content than he thought he would. He closed his eyes and thought about what the after sex would be like. Dean Winchester was not a cuddler – he swore on the grave of every monster he'd killed that he wasn't. Of course, Sam knew that was a complete and total lie. Dean would wrap his arms around Sam after sex, holding him close and running his fingers through Sam's hair. He had fallen asleep with his head on Dean's chest countless times and more often than not had woken up right there in the morning, safe in Dean's muscled arms.
Sam felt the come on his torso drying, knowing that if he didn't clean it up now then it would become sticky and itchy. He sat up, feeling some of it run down his body and down the length of his softening cock. He found the old pair of boxers that he used as a come rag and wiped himself down, dropping it back in the drawer and tugging on his boxer briefs, the urge to pee suddenly very strong. He stuck his head out his door, none of his roommates in the common area. He silently padded to the bathroom, pulling himself out and running a hand through his hair as he relieved himself, his body feeling warm and content. Even if Dean wasn't actually there, imagining it was still a lot better than not thinking about him at all.
Ten minutes later, teeth brushed and feeling sleepy, Sam tucked himself under the covers, his phone back in his hand. He flipped through his contacts again, this time feeling slightly more courage than when he'd tried to do this an hour ago. He got to Dean's number, pressing the call button and putting the phone to his ear. The other end rang and rang, no one picking up. He finally got to Dean's voicemail, a short message telling him to leave his name, number and nightmare. Sam's heart dropped at the sound of Dean's voice, a warm balm to his ears. The message tone sounded and Sam nearly forgot to speak, nearly forgetting to talk. "I know that you're the last person you probably want to hear from right now, so I'm going to do what you've always told me to do and be honest: Dean, I miss you. Plain and simple. I get it if you don't want to ever speak to me again… but I just wanted to let you know. If you…" Sam paused, regathering his courage "If you can make it to California, I'm gonna be here all summer. I…" Sam almost said "I love you" "And I hope that you're alright." Sam hung up and clutched his phone to his chest, his heart racing.
Hope was something that Sam was having a difficult time holding on to. He dreamt that night of green eyes crying, silent whispers of "please" echoing in his mind.
. . .
Dean was sitting on a motel bed in Omaha, Nebraska, an ice pack to the side of his face and a bottle of bourbon in his hand. A nasty ghost had given he and John a particularly rough time that afternoon, hitting Dean in the face with a thick tome that had come flying off a bookshelf. Dean had sworn that he was paying attention when John asked him what happened, saying he didn't know.
He'd been thinking about Sam, as he did for most of his waking hours.
He thought about what Sam would look like after not seeing him for eight months, his hair probably longer and his body more filled out from eating things other than gas station food. He'd probably grown a little more – he'd overtaken Dean in height at the age of fifteen and kept growing like a weed. Dean figured he'd still be straddling that awkward precipice between being a fully grown man and a still somewhat clumsy adolescent, having turned nineteen in November. Sam had been eighteen the last time Dean had seen or even spoken to him. The thought that he'd missed Sammy getting another year older tore him up on the inside, missed him becoming more of a man. Dean winced, and not just from the pain in his face. Guilt, anguish, those were what hurt worse than any physical damage done to his skin. Guilt that he hadn't been able to hold on to Sam, had let him walk out of his life after he'd given everything to Sam, nearly including his life to protect him. If his own loyalty to Sam was going to be his downfall, so be it.
Dean took another sip of bourbon and flipped on the TV, John having taken his truck and going on a supply run for the both of them, which most likely meant takeout and beer. Dean was sick of greasy Chinese food, missing the eggrolls that Sam had figured out how to make on summer, Sam in the middle of going from a sophomore to a junior in high school. He'd found the recipe online, saying that he wanted to try something new. It had been hot that day, a small town in Arkansas where John had left them and gone to track down a rugaru in the northern part of the state. He had found them an old house to squat in that by some miraculous stroke of good fortune had electricity and functional kitchen appliances. Of course, he and Sam had christened it properly as soon as John was out of sight, the wheels of the Impala kicking up dust behind him. All it had taken was Dean sliding his hands around Sam's waist and pulling him backwards into his body, kissing down his neck, the scent of sweat and sunflowers on Sam's skin from where they'd gone exploring the fields behind the house. Sam had gotten tan that summer, spending most of it running around shirtless and free, Dean's hands on him at every moment he got.
They had made love on the creaky floorboards of the kitchen, Sam's still growing legs wrapped around Dean's back, Dean's torso slick with sweat against his, his amulet digging into the skin of Sam's chest as Dean had fucked into him slowly, all of the muggy heat in Arkansas between them. Afterwards Sam had expressed an interest in eggrolls, and between copious amounts of kissing, chopping vegetables, and rolling pastry they had stuffed themselves full and fell asleep on the surprisingly comfortable king sized bed that was still in the master bedroom, sleepy and full and wrapped around each other, not bothering to cover up since it was so hot outside.
Dean let the memory drift through his mind, fixing on the image of Sam, smiling and happy in his arms as they'd drifted off to sleep. It was one of Dean's favorite memories, the two of them happy if only for the briefest span of time before John came back a week later and had them moving again, Dean regretfully having to go back to disguising his touching Sam to playful wrestling and punches, quick kisses and squeezing Sam's ass when their dad's back was turned. It killed Dean, not being able to touch Sam how he wanted all the time.
Dean was still musing to himself when John came back with food, brown bag of liquor clutched in one hand. Dean rolled his eyes, the bottle in his hand suddenly offensive. Sam hated it when John drank, and Dean realized that he'd been hitting the bottle a lot harder than normal, having upped his consumption when Sam had left for Stanford. He capped the bottle and picked up the bag of food that John had set aside for him, grunting that he was going to go eat outside and get some air. John nodded, already delving into the noodles and whiskey before him.
The night was clear, a huge blanket of stars overhead, the late April air not terribly humid but still warm enough that Dean took off his outer shirt, leaving him in just a thin white t-shirt. He chewed carefully on his sesame pork, his jaw aching every time he moved it. The massive bruise that was surely going to be there in the morning was seriously going to slow him down in the sex department, his face swollen like the Elephant Man. Not that the sex he'd been having even meant anything to him, simply because it wasn't Sam. Dean couldn't even remember the name of the last person he'd slept with, some girl they'd rescued from a vampire back in the western part of Kentucky. She had been tall, with long brown hair and dark eyes that flicked between light green and gray. Dean didn't even try to deny to himself that he fucked her because she looked like Sam, and had nearly called her that during the not so very good sex they had. He hadn't even bother to stick around until she fell asleep, driving back to the motel and silently shedding tears until he passed out.
The ringing of his phone in his pocket brought him back from the memory, seeing Sam's name flash on the caller ID. He couldn't bring himself to answer because he knew exactly what he'd say, accuse Sam of leaving him and how much he missed him and Dean Winchester was not about to break down over the phone in the middle of Arkansas.
After hearing the message Sam left though, it happened anyway. With a sudden surge of resolve, he decided that as soon as he got the chance, he was going to California.
. . .
April turned into May, and then May into June, the heat skyrocketing in Palo Alto. Sam was out with friends one night, celebrating his roommate Sean's twenty first birthday. Of course Sam couldn't legally drink but that didn't mean he couldn't celebrate with his friends. Besides, Sean had been eying him all night and it had been two months since Sam had gotten laid and even kind of looked like Dean. Sam could use a warm body to hold on to that night anyway, especially since he'd had Dean on the brain all day.
Sean was on his fourth beer and slowly working his hand up Sam's thigh when Sam's phone rang, "Highway To Hell" blaring from it. Sam extracted it and swatted away Sean's hand from his crotch as he opened it and pressed it to one ear, straining to hear over the noise of the crowded bar he was in.
"You know Sammy, these dorms are kinda nice. Mind if you come out from wherever you are and show me around?" Sam nearly dropped the phone in his nachos, his mouth going dry and any sort of coherent thought processes he might have had suddenly leaving him completely. "D… Dean?"
"The one and only Sam. Where the hell are you?"
"I'm… it doesn't matter, I'll be there soon." Sam got up out his seat, breathlessly spilling out a quick apology to Sean and his friends and leaving money on the table to pay for his food. He didn't exactly break into a run inside the bar, but he sure as hell picked up the pace when he was out of it, his long legs carrying him quickly down the three blocks it took to get back to his dorm.
Dean had parked under a streetlamp in one of the visitor spaces, the gleaming metal of the Impala under Dean where he was sitting on the hood, facing away from Sam and towards the front of Sam's dorm. He was wearing a green tank top and jeans, his hands tossing his phone back and forth, waiting for Sam. Sam swallowed and licked his lips, that dry feeling returning to his mouth. He quietly approached Dean, his hands shoved in his pockets, stopping within a few feet of the Impala and saying "You know, you need a key to get in the building." Dean turned and faced him, Sam bracing himself for the punch the jaw that he was sure was coming, the harsh words of why don't you love me anymore.
Instead he got Dean's arms going around his shoulders and Dean putting his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply and whispering "Sammy." Sam shut his eyes and hugged Dean tight, his body warm and real and fitting perfectly against Sam's, the faint smell of Dean's aftershave and hair gel bringing him back to earth, feeling like he'd been drifting for almost a year now, the grounding force of Dean holding him making him rejoice internally.
Dean didn't break the embrace as he looked into Sam's eyes and cracked the biggest grin Sam had ever seen on his face. "You look great Sammy." He ran his eyes up and down Sam's body, one hand on the side of Sam's face, feeling the skin heat under his palm as Sam blushed deeply, returning Dean's smile with one of his own.
"Yeah I uh…. Campus has a pretty nice gym you know and-" Sam's words were cut off by the impossibly wonderful feeling of Dean's lips against his, Dean's hand sliding up the back of his neck and the other going around his waist, pulling Sam closer to him. Sam closed his eyes and kissed Dean back, mimicking Dean's actions and placing his hands like Dean's, feeling like a man dying of thirst that had suddenly found an oasis and he was the only one there to drink.
Sam opened his mouth and Dean's tongue slid right in, molding perfectly against Sam's, the taste of French fries and apple pie in Dean's mouth. To Sam, it was the best thing he'd ever tasted, a feast that only he was invited to, a feast of Dean just for him. Dean pressed the kiss harder, Sam responding in kind, trying to meet the utterly overwhelming feeling of it, trying to say that he was sorry with his lips and tongue, letting his body do the talking for him.
Dean broke the kiss, gasping for air, his arms still tight around Sam's body which he found to be a lot more muscular than the last time they had done this, Sam's arms and shoulders now close to rippling with strength. "Sammy look before we keep going with this I know you've got something to say so now would be a good time because that pretty mouth of yours is gonna be busy here pretty fucking soon."
Sam spoke quickly. "I'm sorry for leaving you and Dad. Wasn't fucking worth leaving you Dean. God every fucking morning it hurts, not waking up next to you. Just know that Dean – I kinda regret it every damn day."
Dean gave him another kiss, then pulled back. "Sam, look. I know that this is your dream, your life, whatever. I'm prepared to live with that but baby boy I want you. I want to see you as much as I can because… fuck it's too much not being here with you so swear it to me Sammy, swear that you're not kicking me out of your life."
Sam's voice cracked with emotion that he'd been trying to keep down. "Dean I never… no. I never wanted you away from me…. Just… all the other crap." Sam ran a hand through his hair and waited for Dean to answer him.
"So you still want me?"
Sam gave him as much of an are you fucking kidding me right now look as he could manage at the moment. "Thought I had made that pretty obvious Dean."
"Well why don't we go upstairs and we can really work on proving it."
. . .
The elevator wasn't working, so they wound up going up the stairs, which consisted more of them shoving each other against the walls and kissing then actually making any progress up to Sam's room. Sean and his other roommates were still out, meaning that they could be as loud as they wanted to be. Sam fumbled with the lock to his door, Dean's hands roaming all over his body as he tried to get it open, Dean's lips and teeth doing positively sinful things to the side of his neck and ear, each brush of contact going straight to Sam's already achingly hard dick. Sam halfheartedly tried to shove him away, smiling the whole time because he was about to have sex with Dean, the only person he ever really wanted this with.
Sam shoved the door open as soon as he heard the lock snick open, bursting into the small room and pulling Dean in with him, Dean spinning him and shoving him back up against the door, Sam's hand groping to lock it again. Dean kissed him with twice as much hunger as before, his hands lifting up on the hem of Sam's shirt, lifting it over Sam's head. Dean paused for a moment because holy shit Sam looked good – there was a good amount of definition in his abs and Dean eyed the v of Sam's muscles that pointed like an arrow down into his jeans, the light dusting of hair beneath his navel the wrapping on a gift that Dean had been the first to unwrap. Dean quickly took off his own shirt, running his hands over the planes of Sam's body as soon as he had it off.
"Fuck Sammy… you been hitting the rack or something?" Sam took an incredible amount of pleasure in the worshipful tone of Dean's voice and flexed, every muscle in this torso standing out for Dean to see. "Gotta stay fit Dean – all kinds of people want a piece of this." Sam watched the possessive look in Dean's eye flair up and that was all it too good because Dean flung Sam down on the full-size bed, his voice growly and low in Sam's ear. "You been cheating on me Sam?"
"Like you've been saving yourself for me Dean, don't lie to me." Dean bit at the tender skin of Sam's throat, pleased with the mark that it made, the flesh purpling slightly.
"Certainly haven't been letting guys fuck me up the ass Sammy – you been doing that, you had other cocks in you aside from mine?"
Sam tugged down on Dean's head and crashed their lips together, tongues and teeth fighting for dominance. Sam needed it rough like this, needed to feel Dean as much as possible because he knew that this wasn't going to be coming around again for a while. "Never Dean – only let you fuck me. My ass is just yours, fucking swear it Dean – no one's even touched it since you."
Dean bit down, hard, on Sam's earlobe. "Fucking better be telling the truth Sammy"
Sam moaned as Dean's tongue licked over the sensitive flesh. "P… promise it's true Dean. Nobody could ever fuck me as good as you do."
Dean let another growl escape his throat as he sucked a mark into the space behind Sam's ear. "You been letting 'em suck your cock, put their tongue in your ass?"
Sam shuddered at the possessive tone in Dean's voice, letting Dean touch him where he wanted. "N…. no Dean…. Just fucked 'em, that's all I swear…. It's just sex Dean, didn't mean a damn thing…. FUCK" Dean had bitten his neck again and twisted his right nipple at the same time, the pain-pleasure making his back arch.
"Fucking right Sammy, that's all it was – sex. You stay the night ever, let them put your arms around you while you slept?" Dean was sitting on his haunches between Sam's legs now, in the process of unbuckling his jeans as well as Sam's, the promise of Dean's hands on his cock just out of reach but very, very tangible.
"N… no Dean I… God Dean I could never do it because they're not you. Only ever want you De, it's the fucking truth I swear." Hearing the nickname that Sam had used throughout their childhood and the complete and utter sincerity in Sam's tone made something break inside Dean – Sam would never, ever lie to him about this, not about what he wanted from Dean when it came to sex.
"Dean…. Please believe me." Dean pulled Sam's body up to his and kissed him kissed him, slow and deep, saying "I believe you" and "I love you" at the same time. Dean pulled back after a moment and pulled Sam's jeans and underwear down his legs, Sam's cock hard and leaking as it was released from the confines of his jeans. Dean pulled his own jeans down past his thighs and pushed Sam down to the bed, the frame scooting backwards slightly as Dean landed on top of him, kissing Sam hungrily as he reached down and rubbed their cocks together, feeling the slick of precome from both of them.
"This what you want Sammy? Want me to fuck you, fill that pretty college boy ass up with my come?" Dean sucked on Sam's lower lip, putting more than a hint of teeth in it.
"Fuck yes Dean, 's the best when you fuck me?"
"Fucking right Sammy boy because nobody fucks you better than me and you fucking know it." Dean left a trail of marks down Sam's torso from where he sucked the bronzed flesh into his mouth, marking Sam as his and no one else's. Sam loved every little bite mark, every bruise that he knew would be there in the morning when he (hopefully) woke up in Dean's bed.
Sam could feel the warmth of Dean's breath over the head of his leaking cock, a promise of pleasure that only Dean could deliver on. Dean licked his lips, looking up at Sam, his dark green eyes blown wide in the low light of Sam's lamp. "Tell me what you want Sammy."
"Want…" Sam swallowed again, gathering himself. "Want you to suck my cock De, want your mouth on me. Best fucking mouth Dean I swear… please, need it so fucking bad." Sam wasn't at all too proud to beg right now, not when Dean was that fucking close to him.
Dean stuck out his tongue, just the tip as he licked up the underside of Sam's glans, making Sam try to get closer to him, the tease of Dean's mouth now something he wanted very badly. "Easy there Sammy, wanna hear you beg more."
Sam groaned, involuntarily thrusting his hips in the air. "Need your mouth Dean, need you to suck me – can never get enough of your fucking mouth Dean… fuck it's the best damn mouth cause nobody sucks me better than you. Please Dean, fucking need you so fucking bad." Sam was two seconds short of pulling Dean's head down and choking him on his cock whether Dean wanted to or not.
Dean decided that Sam had had enough and sucked the head of Sam's cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the flared head, licking around the crown of it, Sam drawing in a sharp breath as Dean finally gave him what he wanted. Dean curled his hand around Sam's thick shaft, tasting Sam's precome as he stroked and sucked Sam at the same time. Sam let out a long moan, the long pent-up desire to feel Dean's touch again finally being released, the balm for all of the ills he'd been feeling released in his body. Dean was here, between his legs and sucking him like the goddamn pro that Dean was at this, except he was only good at sucking Sam's cock – he'd never do the same for another guy. With the two of them it was equal parts give and take most of the time, except for now – Dean was all give and Sam was okay with that.
Dean bobbed his head up and down with a practiced motion, making obscenely filthy slurping noises around Sam's cock, his spit coating the length of it and running down his chin. Dean reached down and stroked himself as he sucked off Sam, looking up every now and then with those big green eyes, watching Sam's face and mouth as he came apart at the seams from Dean's mouth. Dean smiled and closed his eyes again, playing Sam like a familiar tune, one that he couldn't get out of his head even if he tried.
Sam held his legs wide open for Dean, trying to fuck up into Dean's warm, wet mouth. Dean held him down, not letting Sam take control, needing Sam to just lay there and let Dean do this for him. He hollowed his cheeks a little more, tightening the hold of his mouth on Sam's cock, tasting more precome blurt onto his tongue. He could tell Sam was getting close to coming and he fully planned on letting him. Sam was a young guy – he could go another round or two if Dean played his cards right.
"Dean… I…." Dean tasted the bitterness of come in his mouth, not letting a drop spill from his lips. He didn't swallow it, instead letting it rest in his mouth. Sam's mouth was held open in a silent roar, back arched as he came in Dean's mouth. Dean carefully pulled back off of Sam's cock, letting it go as gently as he could, not wanting to spill any of Sam's come. He looked at Sam and batted one of his thighs, indicating that he wanted Sam to spread them wider. Sam gave him a look that was halfway between confusion and curiosity, noticing that Dean's mouth was closed and he could see a trail of white dripping from one corner. Sam got the message and lay back further, grabbing his calves and holding himself open.
Dean leaned back down and let Sam's come run out of his mouth from where he'd placed it between Sam's balls and sac. Sam gave a start as he felt the mixture of come and saliva move down his skin, only to be replaced a moment later by Dean's tongue on that spot. Sam's cock, which really hadn't gone back down, became fully hard again, aided by the knowledge of what Dean was going to do next.
Dean sat up and gave Sam's cock a couple quick tugs, come on his chin and around his lips. "Doing so good for me Sammy but you gotta tell me again – what do you want?" Dean squeezed Sam's cock, feeling it give an involuntary jump in his hands.
Sam's voice was raw from arousal. "Want…. Want you to eat me out Dean, want to fuck myself on your tongue. Want you to make me your slut with your tongue, need you to eat me out Dean, make my pretty little come hole open up for your big dick. Please sir, I need it so fucking bad." Sam's face was red and sweaty, a perfect thing combined with the words currently spilling from his mouth.
Dean had to reach down and stop himself from coming by grabbing the base of his cock, Sam's dirty talk hitting every little button he had. He hadn't been expecting Sam to call him sir but fuck if it wasn't the hottest damn thing. Dean didn't hesitate a second more, not really having a response to what Sam had just said. He shoved Sam up the mattress a little more, Sam spreading his legs wide and holding himself open again for Dean like a girl, except for the fact that Sam's ass was a thousand times better than any pussy Dean had ever had.
The combination of Sam's come with the musky taste of his ass made Dean's cock jump of its own accord, two familiar tastes coming together on his tongue along with a flood of memories. He remembered the first time he'd eaten Sam out, bent over the hood of the Impala while they'd been washing it one spring day in Maryland, Sam having gotten the day out of school and both of them horny from the moment they woke up that morning. John was in D.C. with an old flame for the week, leaving the two of them in Fredericksburg with nothing to do except fuck each other stupid. They had been washing the Impala in the backyard of the rented house and Sam had wiggled his ass at Dean one too many times, an invitation that Sam knew that Dean had no hope of resisting. He had yanked Sam's shorts down and made him writhe and beg just from his tongue, eventually getting him to come all over the metal of the Impala with a single touch of his hand.
Dean focused on that memory as he ate Sam out now, pressing Sam's come deeper into him with his tongue, plunging in and out of the pink flesh. Sam kept a tenuous grip on his legs, shaking and moaning every time Dean's tongue went back inside him, the motion made even slicker by his own seed. He was sweating bullets from every pore in his body, his mouth opening and closing as he quivered, Dean giving him everything he'd wanted for the last eight months, all he ever really wanted from him.
Dean kept going until Sam was open and loose for him, sitting back and wiping his mouth with a satisfied look on his face. Sam was a pile of sweaty muscle and dark brown hair, just waiting for the next thing that Dean had to offer. Dean stood and took his pants off the rest of the way, his own cock incredibly hard and leaking precome to the floor. Sam eyed him and licked his lips, making a motion to grab at Dean, Dean stepping back out of his reach.
"Uh uh Sammy – you let me take care of that. Got any lube around here?" Sam absently dug around in the bottom drawer of his nightstand and tossed the bottle at Dean, saying "Please don't make me wait De, need you bad right now." Sam was breathing heavy, his eyes hooded with lust as he chewed on his bottom lip, looking straight into Dean's eyes.
Dean wasn't about to deny Sam what he wanted and slicked himself up, careful to not let his own hand linger – he was going to come soon enough as it is, what with Sam sprawled out in front of him like some irresistible prize. He got back down between Sam's legs and took the remaining lube on his fingers and pressed it into Sam, made easier by the fact that Dean had worked him open with his tongue. Sam groaned as he felt Dean's thick fingers penetrate past the tight rings of muscle, reminding him of how he wanted Dean's cock and not this. Dean let him suffer for a few more minutes, deliberately drifting over his prostate, making Sam whimper and buck all the more.
By the time Dean lined himself up with Sam's come and lube slick entrance, he was nearly ready to burst. Sam was open but still tight, the heat of Sam closing around him something that he hadn't realized he'd missed so much. Sam was hot, impossibly hot, his body hard and willing to bend to Dean's touch. Sam was sitting up slightly, propped up against the mass of pillows he slept with, Dean's calves under his thighs as he sank into him. Sam put a hand on the small of Dean's back and pulled him in deeper, his eyes not leaving Dean's as they came together, joined for the first time in an eternity.
The angle at which Dean's cock hit Sam's sweet spot was just right, Dean moving slow in and out of him, one hand cupping the side of Sam's face and the other on the wall behind him for support. Dean kissed Sam deep as he fucked him, Sam's hand fisting his cock in time with Dean's thrusts. It was like dancing together again after being apart for so long, both of them falling back into a familiar pattern that only the two of them knew, moving in perfect sync with one another.
Sam sucked on Dean's bottom lip, every motion of Dean's hips making him squirm more, getting closer again to that place that only Dean could get him to. Dean fucked him a little harder, a little faster, feeling Sam starting to clench around him, his cock sliding in and out with slightly more ease now, Sam holding onto him with everything he had. Their collective moans reverberated off the walls, neither one of them caring in the last who might hear them. Dean went faster now, making the bed scoot across the floor as he fucked Sam harder, the mattress squeaking loudly under them as they moved, Dean hitting him in the prostate every time, a loud "ah" punched out of Sam's chest every time, Dean breathing hard and heavy against his lips.
"Oh God… fuck…. De… AH" Sam came again, his come bursting out of him and coating both of them, covering his body and Dean's with it, his hand still trying to push Dean further into him. Dean came a second after Sam, his teeth clenched and his head buried in the crook of Sam's neck, his hips stuttering as he came deep inside Sam, riding it out and trying to hold onto as much friction as possible. He slowed down after a moment, lazy thrusts taking over as the aftershocks began to wear off, finally stopping and collapsing against Sam's body.
Sam put his arms around Dean and held him there, neither of them saying a word, simply taking comfort in the others presence, breathing in each other's scent. It was like home, both of them in the other's embrace, Sam tracing lazy circles into the muscles of Dean's back. After a while, Dean picked his head up and looked at Sam. "Sorry I accused you of cheating Sammy – I know you gotta get your rocks off somehow."
Sam put a finger to Dean's lips. "Shhhhhhh, it's alright Dean. Don't think I'll be going to anyone else after this anyway. You're more than worth waiting for, always have been."
Dean kissed Sam on the forehead. "I know I'm not gonna always be around Sammy but I promise I'll try to make it out here more – and would it kill you pick up a phone every now and then?"
Sam looked more than a little chastened. "I didn't know if you wanted anything to do with me anymore Dean – that's why I didn't call."
"Baby boy, hearing your voice is something I don't want to go without if I can help it. I love you Sam, more than I could ever begin to say." Sam pulled him in for a tender kiss, still painfully aware of the fact that Dean was still inside him, not caring in the least.
Sam broke the kiss after a few minutes. "Will you at least stay the night with me Dean, please? Wanna wake up next to you."
"I was kinda hoping to stay for a week Sammy – Dad said that we could both use some rest and recreation so he's down in LA right now. How does that sound?"
Sam's smile could have lit up Times Square. "Perfect – and you were right Dean. Nobody does it better than you."
Dean kissed Sam again, nothing else mattering in the world but them.