Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.
This is wincest. I am incredibly sorry for all the grammar mistakes if there are such (I tried).
No spoilers. Well, maybe except the bit with Sam having no soul. Oops, sorry!
Hope you enjoy this little story.
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-'What are you smiling at?' asks Dean as he walks out of the bathroom and spots Sam lying on a bed. His arms folded behind his head, his head slightly raised to examine Dean's fresh and clean body, that approaches the bed. Dean, by glancing at his brother at this particular moment comes to conclusion – he doesn't like Sam's eyes. There's something in them, there is something in that smirk of his too and it makes him feel uncomfortable.
-'Hey!' Dean tries again. One corner of Sam's lip rises higher, his eyes narrowed and focused on the half-naked figure standing at the end of the bed. He slowly goes up and down Dean's bare, muscular chest, to eventually rest his eyes on Dean's own. Dean finds the silence and the whole situation pretty awkward. He feels like he's being exposed. He stands in the middle of a crappy motel room, only in his pants, and his brother stares at him like he's up to something. Sam in the meantime observes Dean's muscles tense a little bit. Dean takes a few more steps to sand right beside the bed. The other man doesn't shift his eyes on him this time. He just gapes into space, the smirk still there.
-'Sam! What the fuck is wrong with you? Don't you blow me off!' At these words Sam grins again. Dean is annoyed now. He reaches for his shirt hanging on the bedside cabinet and his hand is suddenly stopped. Sam rapidly stands up and grabs Dean by the arm. Dean tries to free himself and steps back. The grip tightens even more, the other hand lands on his shoulder and pushes him hard against the wall. Eyes. Sam's eyes seem like they're burning. Burning with something he knows very well, but has never seen in the innocent eyes of his brother. Sam holds him by both shoulders now. He's a lot stronger than Dean had thought. All this happens in split seconds making Dean unable to force any words out of himself. And then a gasp escapes. Sam's grin widens, he hovers his palm over the other's mouth and traces his lower lip gently with his two fingers. Dean pushes Sam away in terror and Sam laughs quietly.
-'You should see your face right now, it's quite amusing'.
-'Sam, what-. W-what are you doing? What the hell?' shouts Dean. Sam doesn't answer. Instead he rests his hand on the wall, close to Dean's neck. His face only inches away. Dean can actually feel a wave of hot air hitting his face, he smells Sam's sweet breath. Both men are breathing heavily. Dean finally brakes the silence with a shaky voice.
-' Sam, you're acting strange lately, as if you weren't yourself. I'm worried about you...'
-'What, don't you recognise your little brother?' Sam smiles and looks down at Dean's chest.
-'No. No, you're not Sammy. What the hell have you done to him?!'
-'Oh I am your brother. Only a new, improved version, that actually wants to spend time with you and give you some attention. That's what you've always wanted, isn't it, Dean?' Sam speaks slowly and flirtatiously. Dean thinks, that Sam might have a point. But not in THAT context. And yet, why does it feel like he's going to give in any moment now? He is indeed crumbling. The tension between them is huge.
-'But not like that Sammy, this is wrong.' Dean barely squeezes the words off his vocal cords as Sam trails his long index finger teasingly down his chest. He feels the biceps tense more and more as he proceeds.
-'Sorry, I didn't hear what you said because of the deafening moan, that just escaped your mouth.' Sam smiles. 'I've wanted to do this for a long time, you know' his finger travels along Dean's abs, causing him to shiver. 'Touch you.' Sam adds with a slight murmur leaning into Dean's ear. He gently places his palm flat on his brother's stomach and massages it. With every movement Dean's head spins more. He is angry at himself for standing there like some idiot and not doing a damn thing, not trying to stop Sam. The thoughts rushing through his head aren't helping at all. Why does everything always have to be so fucked up? His body though doesn't seem to bother with protesting.
-'And now, as an improved Sam, I am not afraid to do this. I am not afraid of anything.' Sam whispers removing his hand and closing the space between them. Their bodies are pressed together. Sam cups Dean's face and moves even closer. Their noses nearly touch, their breaths meet. Silence. Sam stares straight into Dean's eyes and moves his hand down again. He reaches the edge of Dean's pants and stops for a second to admire his face. Dean trembles. The skilled fingers go further down and brush against Dean's crotch. Dean almost blacks out and Sam smirks because the man in front of him is, oh so hard. He is hard for his Sammy, he wants him bad. Dean arches to Sam's hand, Sam squeezes, Dean groans. Sam's hand moves up and down, rubbing and gripping. And all Dean can think of at the moment is 'ah, fuck it'. So he grabs Sam by his shirt and pushes him on the bed landing right on top of him. 'This is all his fucking fault' thinks Dean licking Sam roughly across his jaw.
-'Bitch.' cries Dean.
-'Jerk.' Sam chuckles grabbing Dean's ass tightly.