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A/N: This story is Part 5 in an ongoing saga, a follow up to "Tissue, I Hardly Know You". Most can be read as stand alone but there is some history in those other stories that I reference here that may be unclear for readers just tuning in. Go read them all, k? It's easier to follow my puny brain that way ;)

Don't just read. Read and Review. Reviews are precious nuggets of gold that warm my pickax (how's that for a description??) so please, feed me my addiction. Give me some sugar (or salt if you don't like it. I'm a big girl, I can take it.)

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Dean wakes up slowly, the sun shining warm on his face, the dregs of the erotic dream he just had causing a hard-on like he can't believe. Shit, this is the third frigging morning in a row he's woken up like this.

Damn his stupid brother!

It's been four days since he told Sam they couldn't be together any more and Sam's made a point out of hanging around wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. He searches the internet, eats his food and watches television, all bare-chested, his muscles smooth and tan, rippling under his skin and his jeans are tight, clinging to his ass, slinging low across his hip bones, the soft hair beneath his belly button just visible, pointing towards the sweetness below.

The first day, Dean was ok, firmly believing their new relationship was the best for Sam. He managed to ignore his brother's nakedness, mostly by not looking right at him but rather crossing his eyes a little and staring in Sam's general direction when they spoke. Made him blurry and off-center and took Dean's mind off of the warm skin that he ached to touch.

But that night, he'd had this steamy dream, all arms and legs and skin, hot tongues and biting teeth, and he'd woken up with a boner the size of Texas. Dean'd barely been able to wait, feigning sleep, until Sam had gotten in the shower before he ripped off his shorts and jerked himself to a sizzling, mind-bending orgasm, thinking of Sam's muscles and hip bones, the tantalizing hair descending down under those tight jeans and how soft that hair would be if Dean could just rub his cheek against it.

It had been the same the next morning and now this. Again.

Dean reaches down to rub the outside of his shorts gently, humming a little in his throat with how good it's gonna be because he's gotta take care of this business before he can do anything else.

He looks over at the next bed.

Empty. There is a God.

The bathroom door's ajar and he hears the shower going and Sam's off-tune singing reaches his ears. His brother isn't singing loud, just a steady drone that's kinda soothing.

He's got time before Sam comes out. There's always time for this.

Dean shucks off the blanket, reaching inside his shorts to caress himself, trying to get a good grip but it's too tight in there and he's too hard, it's not working so he slips his thumbs under the waistband, pushing his shorts down over his hips, the cool air tickling over him as his dick falls free, bobbing up, hard and hot and his palm grips tight, squeezing as he jerks up from the base.

There it is right there and his eyes close, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as his breath huffs out.

An image of Sam in the shower, wet, naked, water dripping down in rivulets over his chest, down his abdomen and trickling below rises up in Dean's mind and he pulls himself harder, dragging the skin up and down, breath hitching now. Christ, it seems like it's been years since he and Sam…

Now, in his mind, Sam is turning around, naked and beautiful, dick standing at attention, holding out his arms towards Dean, begging him to come be with him, touch him, love him.

Dean pants, breath gasping out, squeezing his eyes tight, flicking his wrist up and down, and now it's Sam's hands that are touching him, tossing back his bangs and smiling up into his face, gripping Dean with his long, slender fingers, his hot palm dragging up and down, driving Dean closer to the edge.

In his dream, Sam drops to his knees in front of Dean, opening his mouth, taking Dean into that hot, sweet pit of pleasure, making Dean's hips thrust forward and grab Sam's hair, tugging it back so Sam looks up into Dean's face, and Dean can see his brother sucking and pulling on him, making Dean dizzy with passion.

So good, he remembers, Sam's mouth always feels so damn good on him and Dean can't hold back, his hips bucking up at the thought of that mouth, those lips taking him up higher and higher…

Dean's hand moves faster now, dragging up and down, palm pulling, tugging and suddenly, his body spasms, muscles stretched tight and he cries out Sam's name, moaning in pleasure as he reaches orgasm, bursting, pumping out all over his fingers and belly, hand moving up and down until he's finished, done and there's nothing left.

Dean's heart rate slowly returns to normal, his breathing slows and he gradually comes back to awareness. Eyes still closed, he rests a moment, knowing he has to clean himself up and cover himself but he still has time before Sam comes out.

Only he doesn't.

He hears a whispered, "Dean…"

He opens his eyes and there's Sam, staring at him, eyes hot with lust, underwear tented from the erection he's now sporting, mouth hanging open in awe of his brother's naked body and all that he's just seen.

Dean hears his own hoarse rasp, "Shit, how long you been there, Sam?"

"Long enough…" Sam says softly, licking his lips, looking at him the way a hungry wolf looks at a plump rabbit.

"Sam, no."

Sam takes one step and another, his eyes, ravenous, determined, lock onto Dean's, and before Dean can retreat, Sam's pushing his shoulders back into the bed, covering his face with quick kisses, lips touching his cheeks, his eyes, his nose and finally capturing Dean's waiting, welcoming mouth.

For a precious moment, Dean lets himself enjoy his brother's taste, like sweet honey in his mouth, and his brother's smell, soap and shampoo and underneath, Sammy, sweet and earthy, all sun and sky and sand and sea, smelling like everything Dean has ever loved in the world.

He can't let himself stay here even though it's everything he's ever wanted, to just be with his brother but he has to stop it now, before it goes too far. It's not good for Sam and fuck it, he hates being the responsible one but he can't let it happen, not even once or else they'll fall right back into it and all his good intentions will fly right out the window.

Dean kisses Sam again, one last time and pushes him away, shaking his head wordlessly at his brother, pushing him up and off the bed, and Sam falls on his knees to the floor, pulling at his brother's shoulders, nudging Dean's face with his, bumping him, begging silently for more, more kisses, more love, more Dean.

Dean stares at Sam's beautiful face and luscious body, a yearning in him so deep, so consuming that he shakes with the effort to be strong. He drags his eyes away from his brother and reaches down to yank his shorts up, grabbing the sheet to cover his bare skin and rolls over to face the wall, turning his back to Sam.

"Dean?" Sam whispers, "I…I miss you…"

Dean doesn't move, doesn't speak, just stares at the wall, pain searing into his heart. After a few minutes, he hears Sam moving around the room, the tinkle of keys and a jacket zipping.

"I'll get us some breakfast." Sam says woodenly and leaves without looking back.

Breathe. Breathe.

DAMMIT!

Dean suddenly punches the wall in frustration and rolls on his back, grabbing the pillow and hugging it tightly to him, the way he would hug Sam if he could.

"I miss you, too, Sammy…" Dean says to the empty room, "More than you could know."

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