In the middle of the night, Sam sits there watching Dean sleep.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just a afan.
Season 2
'Just look at him laying there', Sam thought to himself smiling softly.
Dean's face was thankfully free from the usual worry lines around the eyes and mouth, only noticeable to someone who knew him well. All the tenseness and stress had been wiped clear as sleep had overtaken him and, sleeping safe, knowing he was protected, no nightmare was likely to intrude bringing that scrunched up wrinkling to his features. It distressed Sam so much, since their father's death, as he woke to hear the frantic pleas and begging for help from his brother that he could not deliver. He was the one that was supposed to have the nightmares and be soothed, not the other way around.
Now Dean looked content, lying on his front unafraid to turn his back on the world. His face was in profile on the thin pillow with a leg bent, raised up at his side and a hand by his head. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed steadily, his shoulders rising and falling softly, unknowingly keeping his brother entranced.
'That was the trouble', Sam thought, even whilst he was awake, Dean seemed oblivious to his regard. He gently ran the back of his bent fingers down the side of his brother's face. Dean seemed to smile and snuggle into his pillow but remained sound asleep. Sam gave a regretful smile. Two days ago he had finally dared and done that whilst stood facing him. Dean had pulled away saying that "Dude?" looking at him askance and he had mumbled about there being something on his face. He had felt equally stupid and hurt.
He had not meant anything by it. Well, other than that he loved him, and wanted to show him just how much his mere presence affected him. It had been a recent thing, this wanting to touch his brother in a way that society would frown upon. If, for as long as he could remember could be termed recent?
The way he had responded to his older brother had changed over the years. As a young child, Dean had been his everything, his protector, his provider and he had clung to him as he would have his mother had she been alive or his father if the gruff, sad man had let him. Dean comforted him when he cried, soothed his brow when he was sick and held him in the dark chasing the nightmares away.
A few years later, he still provided, protected and comforted Sam, but he was also his friend. The only one he had. Then he stopped sharing the bed with him and Sam did not understand as Dean would push him away saying he was not a baby anymore and it was time he grew up. But he still watched out for him, keeping the would be bullies at bay at each new school whilst teaching him to take care of himself. At night when he was scared, Dean still lifted the covers allowing him to crawl into bed beside him and be safe.
A few more years and he looked up to the handsome charmer, who was finding his place in the world and playing to advantage his appeal to the opposite sex. Sam felt it too but, still hitting puberty, was too screwed up and confused to recognise the true significance of his admiration.
Two years later, and Dean was seldom in the house, motel or area for Sam to find an excuse to share his bed. He knew now that it was not comfort or safety he was after, it was contact he craved. The kind of contact that made his belly flip and his breath catch. There was plenty of joshing and fight training, but he was far too nervous to try to make his fantasises reality.
During the sparring, Sam suffered many a bruise and landed on his ass time after time, because the closeness of his brother was distracting. He would be watching Dean's lips rather than listening to what was coming out of them and watching the play of muscled arms and torso rather than watching for tells. Too many slaps up the side of his head and he managed to concentrate.
Then he left and, moving to Stanford. Sam convinced himself that what he had wanted from Dean was just a phase. It took him a while to stop dreaming about him, even though he had drawn the conclusion it was only their constant proximity that had had him feeling that way. He had 'dated' a fellow student, who just happened to remind him physically of his brother, but it had been awkward and after one, embarrassing fumble, knew that he was not attracted to men. Just Dean and he had already rationalised that.
He had gotten on with his life and found love.
Then one night, Dean had turned up in his kitchen, of all places, and it took less than a day for Sam to be affected by his brother's proximity once more. Another day and his world was torn asunder and it was Dean who was there to stitch it back together. He had had to fight down the budding resentment, for a part of Sam believed that, if his brother had not appeared, Jessica would not have died. Wrong no doubt but the thought was there.
They had been together over a year now and he was once more 'infatuated' with his sibling. If infatuated was the correct word. But whatever it was, Dean was oblivious. When Sam sat close, he did not move away, but did not encourage either. Any touches were taken as accidental or passed off as joshing. He would have to stop being subtle. It was not as if Dean 'got' subtle at the best of times. But he was so scared that if he was more overt, his brother might turn from him, or worse, push him away, rejecting him and he was not sure he would be able to cope.
Sam needed him in so many ways that would be denied if Dean were to reject his advances. He sighed as he sat there on the edge of his brother's bed. He ran his fingertips across Dean's cheek barely touching and twisted his head to watch as, almost without volition, his fingers continued onto a shoulder and then a bare shoulder blade.
He froze as Dean shifted slightly but did not awaken, just seeming to sigh and rub his face against the pillow before settling. Sam bit his bottom lip, hardly daring to breathe, as his fingers continued to explore the exposed skin before him, pale in the dull light seeping through the thin curtains. Constantly checking Dean's face to ensure he still slept, his travelling fingers gained slight pressure as they headed down the spine to linger in the hollow of his brother's back.
Shifting carefully on the bed, he twisted and placed his palm just over the swell of Dean's taut buttock hidden under snug black fabric. Then Sam ran it along the raised leg outlining the thigh, wishing he dared to actually touch him, to feel the firmness under his hand. Pulling his hand back, he caught the edge of the sheet covering powerful legs, lifting it slightly exposing more tantalising flesh.
He sat mesmerised, then, so slowly, promising himself that he would do this then return to his own bed, Sam lent over and placed a soft, slow whisper of a kiss to Dean's thigh where leg joined with buttock. Pulling back and gently rising from his seat, he missed the glint of his brother's open eye and slid silently under the covers of the other bed.
=0=
Dean lay there listening to Sam turning over in bed, his breath shallow as he tried to rationalise what had just happened. He could still feel it now, the whispered kiss on his thigh, tingling as he could not decide if he needed to brush the feeling away or let it continue to grow.
The sound of bed sheets moving reached his ears and he got a sneaking suspicion as to what Sam was doing over there. He could not remain still any longer and turned onto his back pretending he was still asleep. Hand relaxed over the side of his face, he surreptitiously watched his brother who had frozen.
The stillness in the room was unnatural as Sam looked at him almost scared. He fought to keep the grin off his face. He 'should be' scared letting his brother catch him jerking off. Hang on. Realisation dawned. He was jerking off over him. He must be.
'I'm asleep, I'm asleep' Dean repeated over and over, unsure whether he wanted all this to be a dream or so Sam would stop looking at him. It worked. His brother must still think him asleep as movement started again but damn it, he was still looking at him.
Another realisation hit him, amazing Dean. The thought that his brother was working himself off, staring at him, was not disgusting. In fact, he was kind of flattered and, a little 'turned on'. Dean watched his brother's face as he, in turn, watched him. If it was not so personal, so private, he could have laughed for the expression of concentration and pain he saw on his younger brother's face.
It did not take long, there was a hitch to his breathing and Sam bit down on his lip, it looked like it hurt, then he turned away and was still. Dean closed his eyes trying to decide yet again what he thought about this. He was not shocked, after all every healthy male jerked off as far as he was concerned, but the added factor of himself being the object of his brother's fantasies was pause for thought.
He stared up at the ceiling trying to relax, thinking to sleep on it and then he'd probably forget by morning. He was drifting off, until he was disturbed by noises again. 'No way was he at it again surely?' He turned to look, realising something was different. Shit. Sam was crying, he was certain of it. Very muffled but defiantly crying.
Years of protecting, watching over and comforting his brother snapped in and Dean sat up slowly intending to go to him but stopped. Sam was not having a nightmare, was not hurt, this was different. But the sound of sobbing would not let him go. Sam was hurting, he was sure of it, just not physically. Before he could second guess himself, Dean moved to the other bed and lifted the covers.
Sam turned to stone, stiff and silent he could not breathe. Dean slid into bed behind him, pushing up against him, one arm forcing its way under his neck, the other pulling him backwards into a tight embrace. He should pull away but, feeling one closed mouthed kiss to his shoulder, he lent back against his brother and the sigh he released let out so much. Dean just encircled him tighter and laid still, his face buried in Sam's neck and shoulder.
He could not relax though. Sam felt embarrassed because his brother must have heard him crying which in turn he was ashamed of. And Dean, being Dean, would want to comfort him, just as he had always done, but Sam had cried because he was cursed. He was cursed, because he was in love with his brother and because he was so weak he could not keep his hands off himself while gazing at him.
If Dean had have caught him, he would have quite happily died on the spot, but he was lucky as he had gotten away with it. But he was still covered in his guilt, in his shorts, on his hand and he dare not let Dean find out. He swore to himself that he would never do this again, not in the same room as his brother at least. He knew that no matter how many vows he took, he would not be able to resist thinking of Dean in a sexual way.
Even now, the feel of the solid body held close behind him, spooning him, was affecting his own. He curled up tighter biting down on his lip, screwing his eyes shut, half of him wanting for Dean to be gone from the bed, the other, more honest side of him, wanting to turn over and make his intentions abundantly clear. He was fighting with himself just to stay still and not possibly ruin his relationship with his brother irrevocably. He unwittingly let out a slight whimper of despair.
"Sammy? It's okay. I've got you." his brother spoke against his ear and that just made it so much worse. He began to cry again his, clean hand, covering his eyes as he shuddered. Dean let go, turning away from him and Sam felt so painfully cold, but the bed light came on then he found himself being rolled onto his back to look up tearfully into his brother's concerned face.
"Bro? What is it?" and the tears were wiped from his face by gentle fingers.
Sam could not tell him the truth, no way. So he mumbled about having a bad dream about Dad. "Stupid to cry, I know, but it was bad." and shrugged, his tears drying while his eyes were begging Dean to believe.
"You sure?"
"Y..yeah" sounding anything but convincing.
Dean's fingers were stroking his face, still drying the moisture off his cheeks with his thumb. It felt wonderful to him and, what made it even more special, was the look of concentration, of total absorption on the face above him. He caught his bottom lip in his teeth and just gazed up.
"Uh ...huh." Dean twisted his head as if needing a different angle to see him properly, "I don't believe you."
Sam lay there not being able to think of anything to say, captivated by his older brother's lips that were so close to his as he lent up on a bent arm, crowding over him. As he stared at Dean's mouth his brother's thumb moved from his cheek to rub over his bottom lip as he released it from his teeth.
"Tell me."
"Wh..tell you what?" How he wished he could.
Dean replaced his thumb with his fingers playing with Sam's bottom lip, unconsciously licking his own, his eyes seeing nothing of the longing in Sam's, just his fingers on those thin lips. "Tell me what you want right at this moment."
"I ..can't" oh those fingers slipping inside his mouth as he spoke.
"You can tell me anything. You know that." A slight frown appearing on his forehead and he finally lifted his eyes to Sam's waiting for an answer. Dean had a damn good idea, but needed Sam to tell him. But his brother just shook his head. "Would it help if I told you I was awake when you kissed my butt?"
Obviously not as Sam looked horrified.
'Oh my G…!' Did he know what Sam had done then? He wanted to die. His hands coming up to cover his face then quickly dropping one to wipe it on the sheet behind him mortified.
Dean smiled, holding in a chuckle he knew Sam would freak out at. He ran his hand through Sam's hair pushing it off the younger man's face. "Just tell me. I need to know." 'That I haven't got the wrong idea', he added to himself.
Sam turned onto his side facing his brother and, ducking his head as his fingers plucked at the sheet on the bed between them, he took all his courage and stated simply, but so quietly Dean had to strain to hear him, "I want you to love me."
Lifting Sam's head with fingers under his chin Dean answered, "I do. You know that."
Sam could not look at him so, dropping his eyes, but fingers leaving off the sheet and pressing against the centre of Dean's chest, he shook his head in denial, "No…. I ..want.." he took a shuddering breath, "I want you to love me. I want you to hold me. I want you to …. make love to me." And closed his eyes waiting for rejection, ridicule, for whatever Dean's reaction would be.
His face was cupped by a warm palm and unbelievably Dean was leaning towards him, and then he felt those lips that had fascinated him for so long, touch his own delicately. He sighed as Dean kissed him, then began to return the pressure, pressing his hand firmly onto his brother's smooth, broad chest, but in no way wanting to push him off.
Dean increased the pressure of his kiss but kept a check on himself, not wanting to 'frighten' Sam. He could have laughed as Sam parted his lips, licking at his seeking entry, obviously not nervous at all. As the hand that had been pressing against his chest ran its way up to the back of his neck he found himself caught against Sam's, almost ravenous, mouth and he was pulled forwards above Sam as his brother rolled backwards forcing his tongue between his lips.
He tried to pull back, intent on slowing this down, but Sam just came up with him, refusing to release him. Then he did not want to be released as Sam's other hand slid up his side then down his back to be forced under the waistband of his briefs and those, long fingers and palm, cupped his buttock grasping hard pulling him down. He gave up all resistance and settled himself on top of the longer, slimmer frame, dragging his lips away and forcing himself up on taut arms to drag in breaths as he looked down at the other.
A groan from Sam as Dean's mouth broke away from his but, as he raised up above him, Dean's groin pressed down on his own and he could feel his growing interest as it pressed against his, very interested prick. It was unbelievable that this was happening. Sam's free hand moved to touch the face, so beautiful to his eyes, exploring it in a way he had never had the opportunity to before. His fingertips felt his eyebrows, his temples, his check bones and back to those lips. But all he wanted was for Dean to move on him and he pushed upwards with his hips while clutching at the butt so firm in his hand.
Dean got a glint in his eye and wriggled his hips ever so slightly enjoying the look on Sam's face. It was so full of lust at his movement and in that instant he understood why he was not having a problem with his brother wanting to have sex with him or why he wanted it too. Sam needed him and in the end nothing else mattered.
He lowered himself back down reclaiming that mouth, his tongue slipping in, questing to be met and toyed with and, as he began to move on Sam, duelled with. Sam's legs opened up under him and bent up to clamp tightly to his thighs. A hand squeezed his butt one final time, a little too hard, before both hands roamed across his back coming to rest, clutching at his shoulders as he tried to set a rhythm for Dean to take up, pulling at him while lifting his hips pushing up against him.
Dean got the hint and dry humped against him, his prick now as hard as the one he rubbed against. Resting on his elbows, he grabbed Sam's hair pulling his head forwards and to the side as he ravaged his mouth getting lost in a passion he never thought would be provoked by his baby brother. But he felt it.
Sam could not help the moans that were escaping as Dean kissed him so ardently. The feel of his brother's body on top of him, forcing him down on to the mattress, trapping him even as he thrust upwards, wanting the intense contact, was amazing. It was slightly painful but that just made him want more and more, wishing this would never stop. He had waited so long to be this close to his big brother, years of waiting and wanting. He knew though, that it would not last forever, not for much longer indeed as he felt the pressure inside him building.
Oxygen was becoming a problem. He pulled at Dean's short hair, to no avail, so had to push at his face and, as the other got the hint, and broke back from the devouring of his mouth. Dean pushed his face into Sam's neck, breathing harshly and renewing his efforts, the pressure on Sam's prick immense. He wanted to tell Dean to move their shorts, so he could feel flesh on flesh, but had a twinge of shame as he knew himself to still be covered in his previous, guilty cum.
The thought intensified as Dean moved lying more to the side and, to Sam's momentary horror, thrust a hand inside his boxers to grasp his prick in a firm hold. Using the liquid already seeping from the eye, his brother worked him, his pressure growing in direct response to Sam's groans.
Dean continued to work himself against the hip beneath him sensing that Sam was near the edge. He stilled his hand movements being rewarded with a whimper and he buried his face tighter into Sam's neck, his lips finding the pulse on his jugular and he opened his lips to it, feeling the rapid beat on the tip of his tongue.
He wanted Sam's hand on him but his brother was lost in a private world of sensation as he resumed his stroking. Sam arched up beneath him, his whole body tight then, with a shudder, covered his hand with his warm essence and collapsed back to the bed trembling then was still, his hands relaxing their hold on him. There was a momentary resentment, as Dean was so hard and he rose up once more, his prick forcing against Sam's hip, but it fled as he saw the contentment on his brother's face. He actually looked at peace, something he had not witnessed since childhood, before the youngster had discovered that monsters were real.
He was left wanting. But he could convince himself he was okay with that because of that look on his brother's face. Then Sam opened his eyes, looking straight at him, his kiss swollen lips parted and the expression in those half lidded eyes brought strength back to Dean's waning erection. Grabbing Sam's hand, Dean rolled off him to lie on his side and thrust the hand inside his own underwear demanding that Sam finish him off.
Sam was knackered, but he could not leave Dean 'unsatisfied' after the way he had made him feel. He would not be skilful he knew, so just did to his brother's prick what he enjoyed on his own. There was a sharp intake of breath and he lessened his grip, beginning to use his long fingers more than a fist to run up and down the length of Dean's shaft, fingertips running around the head passing across the eye, picking up the pre-cum and spreading it.
Dean was thrusting forwards and through clenched teeth demanded, "Damn it, Sammy. Stop fucking about and work it!"
Sam smiled, then pushed his brother flat, forcing a leg between his and laying half on him, took his mouth in a truly brutal kiss as he made a fist around the quivering length and pumped him hard. He was rewarded with the gasping beneath his mouth sounding almost in pain but Dean continued to thrust into Sam's fist so he assumed he was not hurting him. He forced his knee higher pushing up against Dean's balls and one more firm pass along the length and it was Dean's turn to arch, judder and collapse down.
Sam had left off kissing him because he wanted to hear the noises Dean had been making. He relished the groaned out, almost scream as he made a few more passes ensuring his brother emptied completely before collapsing to an almost stupor, finally going lax in his re-covered hand.
Sam pulled his hand from between them and curled around Dean's body, his face lain on the still thudding chest, the heartbeat strong under his ear and, relaxed. His hand lay on Dean's belly. They would both need a shower after this but he could not move, did not want to move and nothing could possess him to move.
Damn he hurt. But then Dean thought he sort of deserved it. What they had just done was against all convention and perceived morality but fuck, he felt wonderful, shagged out, sore and oxygen deprived as his heart desperately pumped the missing stuff around his veins but he felt, bloody marvellous. He smiled to himself, where the hell had he gotten that expression from? But didn't really give a fuck, as Sam was curled around him in a totally new and exciting way and he sure hoped that he would want to do this again. To do other stuff. He felt a stirring at the thought that he wanted to fuck his little brother or maybe, even, let his little brother, fuck him.
Whatever though, Sam would need some instruction because, just that slight swelling, made him painfully aware that his brother had been far too rough with him. But it did not matter as Sam sat up and looked down at him, a question so blatant in his worried eyes. He smiled and pulled him back down, wrapping him in his arms and felt the kiss to his chest and then his eyes began to close as he drifted into sleep.
Sam stifled a yawn, but as the heartbeat beneath him slowed and Dean's breathing took on the regular rhythm of sleep, he too followed, thinking in his last conscious moments, that he had not thought it possible to love his brother anymore than he already did, but it was. -
Dean was well used to his morning hard-on, but this one hurt. He came around slowly and tried to figure out what the hell was so different this morning. He was on his front and could not move due to the weight pinning him to the bed. He panicked for a moment trying to rise till he heard, "Finally" and sank back down, stilling as he recognised the voice as his brother's. Wha…?
Then it all came back to him and he buried his face in the pillow groaning. What the fuck had they done? He knew damn well what they'd done, but, what the fuck had they done?
"Dean?" Sam was worried. Please don't let him regret this. Please.
Dean tried again to get up, but Sam was on him even more, trying anxiously to see his face. "Dude!" he breathed out, "You're crushing me. Get off of me, you mutant." Meaning to be light hearted but immediately regretted it as Sam sprang off him. Crap! He'd taken it the wrong way. Typical!
His worse fear had just been realised. Dean thought him a monster! Sam wrapped arms around his waist, hugging himself tight, wanting to cry as he backed away from the bed, so conscious of the evidence stiffening the fabric of his shorts. He did not know what to do. He wanted to run from the room, but shouldn't. He wanted to hide in the room, but couldn't. He tried to stop breathing.
Turning over, causing every muscle in his body to make it's presence felt stiffly, Dean looked over at the dejected figure. He pulled himself up to sit against the headboard and, fixing the other with a stern eye, instructed, "Sam, get your ass back in this bed." There was no response except Sam gazed up at him through his fringe from dropped head, expression serious. "Awe come on. You've got to admit you're a freak. You always have been." and smirked at him pushing the covers back.
Hesitantly Sam moved towards him, slowly relaxing his arms to his sides. One bite to a swollen bottom lip and he slid into the bed sitting rigidly next to his brother, who put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in tight. Dean kissed his check slowly, "I'm sorry if you thought I meant something else."
Sam turned to him, looking for the truth and found it in his eyes and relaxing, sliding down, nestled in the crook of Dean's arm.
"I love you Sammy. I always have and I always will."
"You're not ashamed of what I made you do?"
"The only way you made me do what we did is by being so, damned 'hot'."
Sam looked up and saw the grin that was so Dean, "You are so full of shit" he said but laughed.
"No … but … sorry. I do really need to use the bathroom."
"Jerk"
"Bitch" and Sam sat up and practically pushed him out of bed, laughing at the grimace Dean made as he took in the state of himself. "When you hear the shower running, join me."
Sam smiled and nodded
"But clean your teeth first, sewer breath." And Dean backed off into the bathroom before the pillow could hit him. -
Well Sam could honestly say, that this had to be just about the best shower he had ever had. First off he had drawn back the curtain and stood gazing at the view before him. Dean did not turn to look at him, just continued to lather himself and Sam was mesmerised once more. It was not as if Dean did anything differently than if he were showering alone, but to Sam it was about the most erotic display he had witnessed, far outstripping all those times he had sat listening to the running water, imagining what was happening under the jets.
Stepping back under the torrent of water, the suds were slowly rinsed away revealing tantalisingly more and more skin, glistening as the light hit the wetness. Once soap free, Dean turned to Sam running his hands over his hair and fixing him with a raised eyebrow.
No more invitation needed, Sam stripped off the offensive underwear and, climbing into the tub behind Dean, went to touch him.
"I don't think so." And his brother handed him the motel soap.
Laughing self consciously, Sam took it and swapping places, cleansed himself all the time under a watchful eye. Fair's fair after all.
Sam guessed he must be clean enough as a hand settled on his hip, the other sliding around to press against his belly, pulling him back against the other's water warmed body. He knew then that he had not ruined his relationship with his brother.
It had just changed to something new and exciting, and he could not wait to see where it would take them.
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