A/N: I've never really written these two before, but I did my best to write them well. If you have any suggestions on how to improve this let me know, 'cause I am new to the Wincest ship. :)
Sam knew this would happen, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with. As soon as he'd realized that Dean was bottling up his emotions—that he wasn't dealing with their dad's death—he had seen this spiral coming. He'd try his hardest to stop it; done everything he could to make his big brother open up, but nothing worked.
And now there he was, passed out on the motel room floor with a nearly empty bottle of Jack at his side. His hand still rested on it like he was dependent on the liquid inside even in sleep.
Sam went to sit on the floor next to him, frowning down at him as he studied his face. He looked peaceful now; his was mouth open just slightly as he breathed quietly and his arms and legs were sprawled carelessly over the carpet. He had made it out of his shirt, boots, and socks, but his jeans and belt were still on.
He was so beautiful. Sam admired him, his eyes roaming over the panther-like curves of Dean's muscles and the sharp, masculine features of his face. There wasn't a soul or a face in the world as beautiful as his brother's and it broke Sam's heart to see him like this.
He reached out, gently stroking his fingers through Dean's hair and down the side of his face. He traced his jaw lightly and wished more than anything that he could admit to him how he felt. Now wasn't the time for that though…hell, he didn't know if any time would be. Telling your big brother that your love for him is more than platonic is a big damn deal, even without the emotional trauma of losing your father added on.
Sam sighed and leaned back against the mattress, chewing at the inside of his lip. He was contemplating just trying to get some sleep when Dean suddenly stirred, grunting in his sleep and tightening his grip on the bottle in his hand.
"Dean?" Sam muttered, not sure if he was waking up or having a nightmare. He leaned forward slightly, watching his brother anxiously as he groaned some more and started to writhe against the carpet.
"Dean, wake up, man," he urged, shaking him.
Dean's eyes flew open and he blinked groggily, grumbling, "Hmm? Wha's goin' on?"
"You looked like you were having a nightmare." Sam's eyebrows furrowed and he tacked on somewhat sarcastically, "Not to mention you passed out drunk on the floor."
Dean blinked in confusion and rolled onto his back, glancing around him. "Damn….guess I did. And uh…wasn't a nightmare, Sammy."
Sam could tell he was still drunk. It was in the way he spoke and the dazed look on his face.
"Ah…," Sam sighed, getting to his feet as he tried not to think about what had actually been on his brother's mind. He wondered which girl was lucky enough to get a spot in Dean's dreams this time.
"Wha's the matter?" Dean sat up and stared after him.
"Nothin', man, just don't wanna hear about your sex dreams is all." He started to unbutton his shirt, deciding it was time to try getting some sleep for the night.
"I dunno, Sammy, you might find this one interesting," his brother mused, slurring his words just slightly. He slowly made his way to his feet, wobbling as he did so.
"I'm sure it's a riveting story, but I'm going to bed." Sam was in his boxers now and was pulling back the blankets to crawl into bed.
"Naaah, I don't think you are…" Dean's voice came from right behind him and the sound of it stopped Sam in his tracks. It was low and husky and it sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.
He turned around slowly, eyeing his brother curiously as he wondered, "You alright, Dean?"
"I'm good…I just really think you need to know about my dream." He smirked drunkenly at Sam, who he was standing dangerously close to now.
"Uh…ya know, I think it's time for you to go to bed. C'mon."
Sam went to grab Dean's arms and move him towards his bed, but Dean pushed him back onto his own mattress before he ever had a chance. He gasped in surprise as his back hit the bed, but he was incapable of words as he stared up at Dean.
Dean's eyes were a deep, molten green and dark with something Sam had never seen directed towards him before—desire. Although the promises of that stare made his cock twitch eagerly, it was hard to enjoy the moment when he was so fucking confused.
"Dean…Dean, what's goin' on with you?"
"I see the way you look at me, Sammy," Dean said, his voice low and gruff, almost like when he was angry.
"I dunno what you're talkin' about." Sam's eyes moved from his brother's gaze, his cheeks flushing red in embarrassment.
"Don't even try to lie to me, little brother, I'm not stupid." And then he was unbuckling his belt, slowly and with more coordination than Sam would have thought possible in his current inebriated state.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa…Dean, not…not like this, man," he protested, shaking his head. "Not when you're hammered out of your mind."
"So you admit it then, do ya? You want me. Tell me, Sam. Tell me how much you want me—how much it drives you crazy not havin' me." His belt was gone, tossed to the floor, and he already had his jeans undone.
"Where is this coming from?" Sam sat up, staring up at Dean in shock. Fuck yes, he wanted him, but he didn't think Dean knew that and he sure as hell didn't think the feeling was mutual.
"Why d'ya always have to question things? Why can't you just go with it?" He pulled Sam to his feet and didn't give him a second to protest before he was kissing him hard and hungry like he'd been waiting to do it for years.
Holy shit, that was everything Sam had imagined it would be and a hell of a lot more. Dean tasted like whiskey and maybe Sam was imagining it, but there was a hint of a coppery taste to his mouth like blood. His hands wrapped in Sam's hair, tugging just enough to achieve the perfect balance of pain and pleasure, and his hips pressed against his little brother's like he couldn't get close enough to him.
A quiet moan escaped Sam's throat as Dean nipped at his lip and he subconsciously tilted his head back, silently begging for Dean's teeth on his neck.
He got what he wanted, Dean biting the tender flesh above his collar bone before sweeping his tongue over it to soothe the sting.
"Fuck, Dean…" He knew he should stop him, that this wasn't how this should happen and that they needed to talk about it, but he wasn't really thinking with his "upstairs brain" at the moment. The downstairs one was a bit too distracted by the way his brother's hips were gyrating against his and the obvious bulge in his jeans.
Before he knew it he was on his back again, watching as Dean slipped out of his jeans and crawled on top of him. He prowled over him, his eyes flaring with excitement before they closed and he was kissing him again.
For a moment Sam thought he might be dreaming this. Never in a million years did he think this could happen. Ghosts and demons and vampires, sure, that stuff was easy to believe, but this? This was fucking impossible.
"Dean," he muttered gruffly as he forced himself to pull back from the kiss. "Dean, can we talk for just a second?"
No matter how messed up Dean was he still seemed coherent enough to see the panic and uncertainty in his little brother's eyes. He ceased the eager movement of his hips and propped himself up on his elbows as he asked quietly, "What is it, Sam?"
Their faces lingered tantalizingly close, their warm breath lingering between them as they panted. Sam tried to collect his racing thoughts, doing everything he could to ignore the aching, desperate need he felt to get even closer to the man above him.
"It's just…you're drunk, man and I…I don't know how the hell you're gonna feel about this in the morning or if you're even gonna remember it and—"
"Shhh….Sammy, it's alright," Dean whispered, all of his fierceness and hunger falling away as he ran a hand through his brother's hair. "I know what I'm doin', I just never had the balls to do it until tonight."
"You mean you…you've thought about this before?"
"You're not the only freak in the family with the hots for his brother," Dean teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Look…I know what I want. I always know what I want, so don't question me. Don't question this."
Sam's tongue flicked over his lips thoughtfully as he considered Dean's words. He studied his face, looking for any trace of fear or uncertainty, but he saw none. There was only desire and love and a peacefulness that hadn't been there since…well, hell…he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Dean look that way before.
And that was all the answer he needed, because if this would help Dean then he wouldn't question it. It was what he'd dreamed of time and time again, after all.
"Okay…I won't," he replied with a hint of a smile on his lips.
"Good boy."
As they started to kiss the mood between them changed like someone flicking a light switch. All of the sudden calm and softness that had taken over melted away instantly as their tongues eagerly wrestled and their hands explored each other's bodies like they'd never get another chance to do it.
They were both fully hard now, their cocks rubbing together through their boxers as they ground their hips against each other. It wasn't enough though. Sam wanted everything—every last bit of Dean he could get—and he worked at getting rid of the cloth barriers between them.
When Dean realized what his brother was doing he stood up just long enough to get the job done. He stripped away their last scraps of clothing as swiftly as possible before climbing back over Sam. He stared down at him, taking in the sight of his naked body, and then surprised the hell out of the man under him as he started to slide his mouth over his torso and down towards his dick.
Sam's breath grew unsteady and shallow as he watched his brother, his heart racing with anticipation. And as Dean's mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking it in with surprising skill, he made a strange noise that was somewhere between a whine and a hiss.
Fuck, did Dean look incredible with Sam's cock in his mouth. The sight of that alone was almost enough to get him off and he soaked it in, committing it to memory. He'd imagined it more times than he could count, but nothing could prepare him for the beauty in front of him.
He was in love with the way his brother's already angular jaw became more prominent as he sucked, cheeks hallowed and eyes watching Sam hungrily. Then there were his lips…those gorgeous damn lips…the more he sucked and kissed at Sam's length the redder and fuller they became and Sam was overcome with a desperate urge to kiss them.
He wasn't going to stop him yet though. No, no…he was going to enjoy this. He was going to revel in every last moment of it.
"Dean…oh…god, Dean," he groaned, his voice broken and hoarse. His hands wrapped in his brother's hair and it took everything he had not to buck his hips, forcing himself deeper into Dean's mouth.
Dean's hands roamed up Sam's body, caressing and exploring, and as he reached his nipples he pinched them both hard. This elicited a small string of curses and before Sam could stop himself he was pulling Dean up to him. He needed to be close to him—to kiss him and touch him and feel his bare skin against his own.
He captured his lips in a passionate kiss and as Dean's hand stroked his cock he hissed, "I'm not gonna last much longer."
"Thought you would'a had better stamina than that, baby boy," Dean taunted, pumping his hand a little faster. "S'okay though…I want ya to come for me."
"Fuck you, man, I have stamina, I just…fuck…" Sam threw his head back as he felt his body tensing. He was so close to coming and as Dean leaned in, running his tongue up Sam's neck to his earlobe, he felt his orgasm start.
What really pushed him over the edge though—what threw his body into spasms of pleasure as he came into Dean's fist—was hearing his brother growl in his ear, "I've been waitin' years to make you come, Sam. Fuckin' do it."
That was all he could take and he rode out his climax, groaning Dean's name as he did so. His whole body was trembling and his head was spinning and he'd never felt anything quite like it before, but damn did it feel good.
Wanting to return the favor—to make Dean feel even close to how he felt—he rolled so that he was on top of his brother and reached down to grasp his dick. There were a million other things he wanted to do to him, but he wasn't going to try them just yet. Not the first time.
It didn't seem to matter though. The swift, eager way Sam stroked him and the caress of his hand on his balls seemed to be all Dean needed. He was bucking his hips, practically fucking Sam's hand, and his face was distorted with pleasure and desperation as he moaned and growled.
Sam gazed down at him, taking in every little detail. The way his mouth hung open, the sexiest sounds Sam had ever heard coming from it; the arch of his back and tension in his abs as he drew closer to edge; the wanton look of need and hunger and passion in his darkened eyes…all of it was beautiful. Hell, even his strong and slender hands gripping the sheets was one of the best things Sam had ever seen.
"Jesus Christ, Sammy, best hand job I've ever had," he ground out, his jaw clenched even as he spoke.
Sam smirked, reveling in Dean's praise. He would never admit it to him, especially since it would completely contradict the independence he'd clung to so strongly lately, but he strived for his brother's approval. Apparently that was even true with sex.
"C'mon, Dean, it's your turn to come for me," he urged, eager to see the look on Dean's face when he was completely lost it. It was probably the most beautiful thing in the world.
It wasn't long after he spoke that Dean cried out, a string of swear words leaving his lips, mingling with Sam's name. As sexy as that was though, it wasn't the best part.
What really got Sam was that Dean didn't close his eyes when he came. He narrowed them, yes, but he kept them glued to Sam as if just the sight of him made the whole thing better. They flashed with pleasure, growing so dark they almost looked demonic in the dim lighting of motel room, and then settled into their usual green again as he gasped and laid his head back against the mattress.
"God, damn…should'a done this years ago," he panted, smirking up at Sam.
Sam moved off of him and lay next to him, staring at the ceiling and trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. Dean's words from earlier echoed in his mind as he did his best to believe he'd really heard them. I've been waitin' years to make you come, Sam.
"I really wish I was drunk, too," he sighed, glancing over at his brother. "You're not gonna be so chill about this in the morning. I know it."
"Why not? Think I don't really want you? Think I'm just that lonely?" Dean moved to his side, propping himself up on his arm and staring down at his brother intently. "Yeah, I've had quite a bit of whiskey, but that doesn't mean I dunno what I just did."
"No, but…tomorrow…tomorrow when you're sober you're going to regret it." An overwhelming fear was taking over Sam now and he nearly laughed at himself. He'd faced things more terrifying than most people ever dealt with in their entire lives with barely a flinch, but Dean…god, Dean scared him to death.
"You listen to me and you listen good," his brother demanded, his gaze searing into Sam. All traces of the liquor suddenly disappeared—everything but the scent of it—and Dean was completely serious as he continued, "I could never regret bein' with you. I've been wantin' to do this for longer than I can remember."
It was almost too much for Sam. Knowing the he hadn't been the only one longing for this over the years…that there wasn't just something wrong with him…
"Me, too…," he muttered, some of his anxiety fading away. "I just thought you'd think I was…I dunno… thought you'd be disgusted with me."
"Ain't nothin' to be disgusted about, baby boy," Dean assured him, giving him two light, playful smacks on the cheek. "Look at the shit we deal with on a regular basis. You wanna tell me that lovin' my baby brother is weirder than that? Nah."
He shook his head and lay on his back once again, pulling Sam closer to him.
Sam couldn't fight the smile that spread over his face as his head came to rest on Dean's chest. All those years of fighting with himself, of telling himself there was something wrong with him, were over. Dean wanted him, too and didn't seem to think there was a single reason to be ashamed about it. He was his strong, confident self, taking it all in stride like he did everything else that came their way.
"So does that mean we get to do this again?" Sam asked playfully. He heard Dean's laughter rumble in his chest and felt a warmth stirring in his groin at his brother's reply.
"Well, I was kinda hopin' we'd do a lot more than that," Dean answered, so cocksure like there was no way Sam would ever turn him down.
He knew Sam well.
"I'm down for it if you are."
"Oh, I'm down for it alright. Now why don't we get some sleep so I can wake up sober and prove I actually know what I'm talkin' about."
Sam chuckled and closed his eyes. He'd be a liar if he said he wasn't afraid to see how things went they weren't naked in bed together, but he decided anything was better than not knowing.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam muttered as he started to drift towards sleep.
"Yeah, Sammy?"
"You never did tell me about your dream."
He smiled, a small laugh escaping him as Dean replied, "Nah, I just showed you."