Author's Note: So, it's been a while since I've submitted stories and, well, it wouldn't be right if I didn't grace you with a chapter fic. I usually avoid chapter fics but this one seemed to pour out so easily that it surprised me. It helps that the chapters are pretty short, so I'll be updating them two at a time. I'll post warnings at the beginning of every chapter so as not to frighten the poor innocent souls who dare read me crack-like fictions.

Summary: Dean and Sam live on an emotional rollercoaster of violent and dizzying ups and down. Dean recalls every moment and reflects on his budding relationship starting when he and Sam first make love.

Warnings: Underage Sam is 16, Dean's 20. Also incest, boy on boy lovin' and some cursing.

Pairing: can you say Wincest?

Kiss Me

The first time you two sleep together he's just barely sixteen years old. His lips smashed against yours not even ten minutes after Dad left on a hunt he claimed he had to 'handle himself' and demanded you watched Sam. You're damn sure this isn't what he had in mind.

Even though he's only sixteen he's almost your height, he doesn't have to stretch up on his tip-toes just to deepen the kiss that you still have yet to return. His teeth are nipping your lips, suckling and licking, trying to gain some response from you. You're reeling. This is so wrong and you know it. When his tongue forces its way between your lips and teeth you snap back to earth and rip back sharply, wiping the taste of your brother from your lips as you growl out, "what the fuck Sam?"

Almost desperately he's telling you he loves you, needs you and he knows you need him too. And damnit if he isn't right. You want his lithe body, his long limbs and smooth chest that you've seen glistening with sweat and water after you two swam in the cheep motel's pool not even a week before. You wanted him then too. Wanted to jump his bones and cover his body with you and fill him with your very essence.

But he's Sammy. Your Sammy. Your baby brother. You can't-won't-do that to him.

But when he presses against you again, begging-Dean please -you know you can't deny him. It's always been your weakness. You've never been able to say no to Sam.

So you press your lips against his and he whimpers in response, causing all the blood in your body to head to a particular organ that resides south. You want to stop but you can't, not when his lips are on your neck and he's whispering the most sinful things into your ear, his breath tickling your jaw and making you shudder. He's telling you what he wants you to do to him and every word goes straight to your cock and it's suddenly very warm in the rom. To warm for clothes.

Out loud you wonder if he's ever been with another guy before.

"Not with anyone who matters," is his lust-filled response, his usually light voice a bit huskier with lust.

You growl in response, angry and jealous that someone had touched and pleased him before you. He shudders at your growl of possessiveness and you can't help but claim his lips once more, vigorously working to erase whatever memories of prior men he's had before you. Your stomach's knotted with envy and lust and he's whimpering and moaning and damnit if you don't nearly come undone every time he moans your name in needy, trembling voice.

When it's over and his naked body covers your clothes-less one you can feel it start to set in. The guilt. You've just slept with your little brother. The words incest, fag and pedophile are racing in your head and you feel bile in the back of your throat. Swallowing you swear silently that you'll never lust for him-let alone sleep with him-again.

He stirs in his sleep, his soft hair brushing over your chest, and you look down. His face is bathed in the moonlight that leaks through the half-closed blinds and casts a stunningly ghostly glow across his delicate features, accenting his wispy hair, smooth, slightly baby-fat padded cheeks, the crescent shape of his lips, his closed eyes and his peaceful expression as he slumbers. You drink the image in and know you'll always need him.

Just as he always needs you.