This is my second foray into Supernatural fanfiction. I'm a die-hard Destiel shipper, but I've been on a Wincest kick lately. This is the result. There will be three chapters and possibly an epilogue if I feel one is necessary. I have some vague idea of a sequel as well. It is set extremely ambiguously; no references to Deanmon, purgatory, Castiel, or anything else really. It's all about our boys.

This fic is rated M for GRAPHIC brother sexing. Seriously, if you don't like, don't read.

They were on a hunt and everything was going great, same old same old, until one witch turned out to be two. All of the leads had indicated that what they were hunting was a single witch. One single witch that was gallivanting around the small town. A single, male witch. That was why suspicion hadn't even crossed Dean's radar when a sexy young brunette chatted him up at the bar. Sam, too, had been annoyed – his brother, thinking with his dick again – but not suspicious. It was just par for the course with Dean.

In under an hour, Dean was taking her back to the motel where they'd rented a room for the week, telling Sam that he'd call when it was safe to come back. Sam gave him a somewhat dirty look – didn't they have better things to do than get Dean laid? – but let him go without a word. He was used to killing an hour or so while Dean was occupied in the motel room. But one hour stretched into two. Two stretched into three and Sam started to worry. This wasn't like Dean at all.

Finally, though the last thing he wanted was to walk in on his brother in the throes, Sam walked the short distance back to the motel. As he approached the door, he could hear moaning. He felt a spike of anger. Here was Dean, having marathon sex while Sam was twiddling his thumbs and hustling pool at the bar. Uncaring now if he did walk in on a whole lot of naked, Sam strode through the door, bitch face (as Dean liked to call it) at full power.

And he froze in his tracks.

Dean wasn't on top of the sexy bar woman. He wasn't even on the bed. His brother was writhing on the floor, moaning, not in pleasure but, seemingly, in agony.

"Dean!" Sam rushed across the room, but, to his continued surprise, Dean cried out at the sound of his voice and rolled in the opposite direction.

"No, Sam," he ground out between clenched teeth. "Stay over there."

Sam was going to ignore him, but the desperation in Dean's voice made him pause. It was possible that it was a trap and something terrible could happen if he approached the older Winchester. Since he couldn't see any injuries and had no idea what was causing Dean's pain, he hung back.

Trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, he asked, "What's going on? Who did this?"

"Fucking…witch!" It seemed to be hard for Dean to gather himself enough to speak. Every word was wrenched out of him. Further, there wasn't only pain in Dean's voice, but Sam couldn't quite place what else was there.

"He was here?" Dean just shook his head, twisting partially onto his stomach, then back onto his side, then his back, trying to alleviate whatever was going on with him.

In his pocket, Sam's phone rang. Impatiently, Sam pulled it out. "Listen, this really isn't – "

"A good time?" A female voice purred. "Oh, Sam, I think it's a great time."

Immediately, Sam knew who it was. The bar girl. "What did you do to my brother?"

She laughed. "A simple curse. Entirely non-fatal – if," she quickly added, "his needs are met."

Sam just barely restrained himself from shouting. "Excuse me?"

"It's a lust spell, Sammy, but I put my own, shall we say, spin on things. Here's the short of it, tall, dark, and dim-witted. Dean is literally dying to have sex. To survive, he needs constant stimulation and frequent orgasms – and not from his own hand. He tries jerking it himself? All he's gonna do is get real frustrated, you feel me?"

Sam seethed in anger, gripping the phone tighter. "I'll find the hex bag you stashed in here."

"Didn't use one. I'm better than a measly little hex bag. You're going to have to do this the hard way." She laughed at her own pun.

He gritted his teeth. "So, what? I'm supposed to buy him half a dozen hookers to get him through this?" He looked over at Dean, who was flushing a dark crimson and doing his damnedest to crawl to the bathroom, although he didn't seem to have very good motor control.

"And leave you all the time in the world to hunt me and my lover down? I don't think so. The only one who can see Deano through this is you, Sammy-boy. Just to prove I'm not all bad, I even did you a favor and left you some lube on the night stand."

"You bit – "

"Ah ah ah, Sam. Wouldn't want an extra three days, would you? Now, I suggest you pull your big boy britches down, grab ankle, and save your brother." With a loud cackle, the line went dead.

"Fuck!" Sam threw the phone onto his bed and paced the hotel room. It seemed like the bitch had thought of everything. By forcing Sam to be the one to – to take care of this, she made sure that she and the other witch had plenty of time to escape or at least get a lengthy head start. Who knows where they might be after at least three days, maybe longer if Dean needed time to recuperate.

The sound of a door opening pulled Sam out of his head. Dean had made it to the bathroom and was currently laying in the doorway, a look of pain on his face. Another moan wrenched itself from his throat and now Sam could identify what else Dean was feeling besides pain. Lust. Dean was probably half out of his mind with it after being left alone for three hours.

Sam pushed all of his anger at the witch aside. She would get what was coming to her, but right now, Sam needed to take care of his brother. His gut tightened sickeningly as he thought of what that entailed, but he tamped that down too. Dean needed this to live, so Sam would just have to suck it up.

Bad choice of words.

Sam walked across the room. Dean looked up at him and his eyes peeled wide with panic. "No, Sammy."

The younger Winchester knelt next to Dean. "It's alright, Dean." He reached down and gripped Dean's arms, about to pull him up.

Dean shook his head, trying to pull away to little avail. "Can't let you do this, Sam. 'S wrong."

"Yeah, it is." He saw no point in trying to sugar coat it. It was incest, plain and simple. But he couldn't let Dean die just because they didn't want to cross that line. Truthfully, they'd probably done worse things in their lives. "But we're just going to have to get over that." He hauled his brother to his feet and half-carried, half-dragged him to the bed.

Dean dropped down bonelessly onto it. Now, Sam noticed the bulge in his jeans. He swallowed hard, thinking of what they were going to have to do.

He caught Sam's look and flushed harder. He curled into himself as another wave of pain hit him. "Find some girl."

"That won't work. It has to be me."

"She could be lying," he groaned.

"She could be," Sam agreed. "But I'm not willing to chance it. You're in this much pain already. No telling what condition you'd be in when I actually found a girl for you to fuck." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "This is –" disgusting " – unpleasant, but it's the safest option. We don't know how long it could take for this thing to kill you if you're left alone." Dean remained quiet for the moment, either admitting defeat or forming a new argument.

Sam knew he should get started doing…something…but he didn't know where to start. He bought himself a few moments by walking around the bed and picking up the bottle of lube the witch had indeed left behind. He wondered if it had been enchanted in some way and questioned if he could risk using it. Then he thought about just how long three days was and decided he'd have to chance it. The last thing they needed was a curse and chafing.

He opened the seal and put it back on the table, then busied himself turning off lights, leaving only the glow from the alarm clock. Maybe this would at least be a little easier for Dean if the lights were off. He could pretend it was some random hook up…doing things to him. Christ, he couldn't even think the words. How as he supposed to actually do any of it?

Dean shifted on the bed, a low moan coming out of the darkness. "Sam," he uttered hoarsely, and Sam knew that was as close as Dean would get to saying, "If you're going to do it, do it now." It put Sam's mind back on what was important: taking care of his brother.

He'd do it because he had to.

Sam sat down on the bed, reaching out to find Dean. His hand landed on his hard stomach, his muscles rigid with tension. "It's okay, Dean." He slid his hand down to Dean's jeans and felt his brother shudder, from disgust or anticipation Sam didn't know. "Just shut your eyes and pretend." Sam wished he could do that, but he'd never been into guys. Hadn't even experimented in college. Now he kind of wished he had.

He found the button of Dean's fly and tugged it open, then the zipper. Through his boxers, Dean's hard cock pressed against his hand, causing Dean to jerk and mutter a curse. Sam took a steadying breath and pulled both Dean's jeans and underwear down. Even though Sam wasn't going to do anything that specifically needed them off, he might as well just dispense with them. They'd only get messy.

Finally, when he had no other tiny time-wasters left, Sam reached out and took Dean's cock into his hand. Under him, Dean went taut and his cock jerked. "Oh, shit," he moaned out, and his hips thrust upward uncontrollably, trying to force stimulation. Either Dean wasn't in control or he'd delved deep into a fantasy staring his favorite Busty Asian Beauty. Either way, it didn't matter, Sam supposed.

Sam started to stroke. It was weird, yeah, but it wasn't all that different from getting himself off. Sure, the angle was off, the size somewhat different, but the general idea was something he had done many times before. He could do this for Dean, the brother who had again and again given anything he could to take care of Sam. Well, now it was Sam's turn to take care of his big brother.

Dean moaned as Sam stroked him, his hands fisting in the coarse motel sheets. "Oh, God." He thrust into Sam's hand and he started stroking faster, needing to get Dean to his release. Hopefully, that would make the curse ease off and take away some of Dean's pain.

It didn't take long at all. The tension had been gnawing at Dean for three hours now; he was so pent up, just a couple of minutes after Sam started, Dean exploded. He shouted, arching up into Sam's hand as he came, moaning and jerking with the violence of his orgasms. In the aftermath, he collapsed against the bed.

Sam swallowed, his mouth gone dry. That had actually been kind of – nope! He was definitely not going to finish that thought. This did not need to be made even weirder.

He cleared his throat and took the hem of Dean's shirt and tugged it up. "Here," he murmured, hating to break the illusion Dean had no doubt conjured up. "Let's take this off. It's a mess." In silence, Dean acquiesced and the shirt joined his jeans on the floor. Dean, now, was fully naked while Sam was fully clothed. He considered stripping, evening the score, but that was just too much.

Sam shifted uneasily on the bed. "Are you feeling any better?"

The bed jiggled as Dean moved to sit up. "Yeah. Once I…" he swore under his breath. "Once I got off, everything kind of eased up. Doesn't hurt anymore." Dimly, Sam saw him reach up and rub his face. "Don't know how long it'll last, though. I can feel it already, the – the lust, building up."

Sam nodded slowly. "She said you'd, ah, that you'd need pretty much constant stimulation."

"And lots of orgasms. Yeah, she told me all of it after she hexed me, but I couldn't think straight when you got here." Sam thought there might be a joke in there about thinking "straight" but he wasn't going to find it.

"Why didn't you call me as soon as it happened?"

"She wouldn't let me. She stayed and kept me right where I was until she heard you coming." Sam couldn't be sure because of the red tint that the alarm was giving out, but he thought he saw Dean flush darkly. "She said she wanted me warmed up for you."

"Christ, what a sick fuck."

Dean ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Sammy, I'm so sorry. I should never have – "

"Stop it," he interrupted, knowing what Dean was going to say. "This isn't your fault. You've picked up girls in almost every town we've ever been in. If we'd known there was a second witch, we both would've been more vigilant, but all the signs pointed to the man. So save the blame game for another time. Although," he laughed darkly, "I don't think you'll be looking for sex anytime soon."

Dean laughed humorlessly and shifted on the bed again. He was obviously starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Lay back, Dean."

"No. We can wait longer. It's not that bad."

Sam sighed. "Come on, Dean, there's no need for you to suffer any excess pain from this." Not when they were both suffering in other ways already.

Dean's head rolled against the wall as he shook it. "And there's no need for you to have to touch me more than absolutely necessary. Maybe if we hold off as long as possible, we won't have to do very much."

"And what?" Sam argued angrily. "You want me to just sit around and watch you suffer for hours until finally it hurts so bad you have to let me touch you?"

"Yes, damn it! Sam, I hate that you have to do this. That we have to do this. It's disgusting." His jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth, his hands fisting against the bed, harsh breaths loud in the quiet room.

"Well, that is just too fucking bad, because this is the hand we've been dealt. Now shut up, lie down, and let me jerk you off." This may actually be the most bizarre conversation I've ever had.

"Sammy."

"Dean." When the elder Winchester still refused to move, Sam wrapped one hand around his ankle and yanked him down the bed. Ignoring his cursing, Sam laid one hand on Dean's warm thigh and gripped his cock with the other. "Just shut your eyes and turn on Casa Erotica." Dean cussed at him, but his hips thrust up into his hand, seeking more.

And so the hours slowly passed. Between rounds, they mostly sat in stony silence. A little routine formed. Sam would jerk him off – which he soon started using lube for – and then they'd have ten to fifteen minutes before Dean actually started to become uncomfortable. Another twenty or so before he started gritting his teeth. Around the half hour mark, he would reluctantly let Sam ease him. So the cycle continued.

It was well into the morning now. Outside, people were moving about, cars were coming and going. Light was shining through the window; the flimsy curtains weren't much help against the bright morning sun. Which meant that the brothers could see each other clearly.

At the moment, Dean was actually asleep. A couple of hours ago, he started nodding off during the brief respites, always waking when the pain got to be too much. Sam hadn't slept at all. He couldn't risk it, because he knew that his brother was stubborn enough to suffer through it until Sam finally woke up and forced him to let Sam touch him.

Like the other times, Sam used this quiet time to clean Dean up. He took the used wash cloth into the bathroom and rinsed it out. Then he went back into the other room and rinsed off Dean's chest and stomach. There wasn't all that much spunk to clean up; after coming so many times, the orgasms were mostly dry now. Next Sam gently cleaned Dean's cock, which was already beginning to rise again, thanks to Dean's own Viagra from Hell. Sam knew that he had to be getting sore by now, despite using lube to ease things.

In the back of his mind, Sam wondered if he shouldn't try something different. Both of his arms were beginning to feel like limp noodles and they were still within the first twenty-four hours. Jerking Dean off for all three days just wasn't going to be an option. The next logical step would be…But could he do it? God knew, it wasn't something that he had ever thought he would attempt. Surely, he could pull it off, though. Men and women did it all the time.

He looked down at Dean, who had begun frowning and twitching in his sleep – it wouldn't be long now – and thought that it wasn't a matter of if he could or couldn't do it. He had to. For Dean, he could and he would.

Dean came awake a few minutes later, his hips grinding against the bed. "Sammy," he groaned, voice like gravel. It sent a little tingle down Sam's spine, which he ignored.

Sam came back to the bed with a cup of water. He took Dean's shoulder and urged him over onto his back. "Drink some water." After Dean had drained the cup, Sam set it aside. "Dean, I'm going to be honest. My arms are over-cooked spaghetti. They need a break."

Dean just nodded, shutting his eyes. "S'okay, Sam. I can hang a while."

The hell he could. Sam looked down at his cock and found exactly what he expected; hard, aching, twitching arousal. "So I'm going to do something else this time. Not going to use my hands."

"I'm not into feet," Dean said tiredly, a hint of his usual self shining through.

Sam sat down on the bed. "Not using those either." He rested his hand on Dean's thigh and, taking a slow breath, leaned down.

Before he could make contact, Dean made a choked sound and fisted a hand in Sam's hair to stop him. "Sam, you can't." He swallowed hard. "It's too much. Too far."

Sam looked up at him. "We have to do what we have to do, Dean. Whatever it takes to survive." He pulled Dean's hand out of his hair and leaned back down.

He'd never been so confronted with penis before. There it was, right up in his face. More than a little intimidated – but not half as squicked out as he should be – he just looked at it for a second. Not yet up to taking it into his mouth, he decided to take it slower, work up to it. He licked the head experimentally, eliciting a hiss from Dean. Sam glanced up and found his eyes shut tight. That was good, he told himself and went back to the task at hand. Or mouth, as the case may be.

He stroked his tongue over the head again, then down the shaft. The taste wasn't bad, he supposed. A little precome, a little lube. It wasn't unpleasant. Buying himself some more time, he traced his tongue along the veins, trying to remember every blowjob he'd ever had – because, fuck, if he was going to do this, he might as well do it well. He seemed to be having the desired effect, because Dean was moaning softly, his thighs tensing under Sam's hands.

Sam spent a while stroking him with his tongue, even wriggling it into his slit a little, wondering if Dean would like it like he did (answer: he did). He was still nervous about actually taking Dean into his mouth.

"Please," Dean gasped after a while, breaking the silence. The only words Dean ever said while Sam was touching him were swears, so Sam knew that Dean had to be desperate now and he immediately felt guilty. This isn't about what you're okay with, Sam scolded himself. This is about taking care of Dean.

With one last calming breath, Sam opened his mouth and took Dean inside. It was strange – beyond strange. For a moment, all Sam could do was sit there, still with the head of Dean's cock in his mouth. Quickly, he started to move his mouth on him to keep up the stimulation with his tongue. Rather quickly, he picked up a bobbing motion that felt familiar; it was just like the ones girls had used on him when they did this. With that part figured out, he focused on trying to suck on this huge thing in his mouth while also keeping his teeth out of the way. Suddenly, he felt a deep respect for women and men everywhere. Sucking cock was not easy.

It took Dean longer to come this time, no doubt because of Sam's many fumbles. But when he did, he arched sharply, nearly making Sam gag on him, and cried out, "Sammy!"

Sam was too surprised to hear Dean calling his name to prepare for the actual result of the orgasm: Dean's come. Fortunately, there wasn't much of it, so it didn't choke him or go shooting out of his nose. He pulled off of Dean's cock after he had finished and, not knowing what else to do, he swallowed the salty-bitter load. He supposed he could have spit it out, but, really, what was the point? Like sucking his brother's dick could be made any more weird.

As soon as Sam took his hands off of Dean, his brother rolled away from him, bringing his knees up to his chest. Sam frowned. "Dean? Don't' tell me it's already hurting again."

"It's fine," Dean said sharply.

"Well, then, what is it?" Dean wasn't relaxed as he usually was. He was still as tense as he'd been when Sam was sucking him.

"I – fuck. I'm sorry. I swear I wasn't really thinking of you. It just, you know, slipped out."

Seriously? He was freaking because he had said Sam's name when he came? Sam had all but forgotten it until Dean mentioned it. "Well, Dean, I was sucking your dick. It's understandable that you'd blurt my name out. I know you'd rather it be anyone else."

Dean heaved a sigh and muttered, "Still. That just made things…weird."

"Things are already pretty fucking weird, Dean." Sam rose to his feet and went over to their bags. He knew he had some sandwiches somewhere and they both needed to get some food down. He took the two ham-and-cheeses back to the bed where Dean had pulled the blanket over his lower body. It was something he hadn't bothered with in the dark, but now, Sam had to imagine he was feeling more exposed. What with all the it's-a-beautiful-morning shining through the window. Sam just tried to ignore Dean's nakedness. This whole situation was hard enough on both of them.

He proffered one of the sandwiches to Dean. "Here. Eat. You need to keep your strength up." Dean groused but accepted it and started eating. When they'd both finished, Sam got them both some more water. They didn't talk. What could there be to say?

Dean knocked his head back against the wall. "Shit." Sam looked at him and found a sizeable tent in the blanket. The curse was making itself known again.

Without a word, Sam pulled the blanket away and eased down onto the bed.