by cntrlphreaque
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Dean did not know what had woke him at first but then he felt the warm naked body pressed against his and butterfly kisses being trailed down his neck. Soft feathery touches of sensitive fingers sent shivers down his spine, ghosting over his chest and stomach, hesitating at the waistband of his boxer briefs.
"Don't," he whispered, voice thick with sleep and uncertainty, into the sweet-smelling hair that was tickling his nose. Dean placed a hand on the wrist to stop those exploring fingers but then hair was replaced with soft full lips brushing lightly on his parted mouth.
"Please," the heartbroken plea was spoken into his mouth, the tongue moistening his lips leading to a tentative kiss. Dean's breath caught, his pulse quickened, his hand slipped allowing those fingers to breech his briefs and continue their journey. The kiss was soft at first then more demanding as those fingers found what they were searching for. Dean arched his back slightly as his body responded to the touches, fingers fondling his balls then grasping his hard erection he was determined not to have. There was need, desire, and hope with every stroke, a wish to be granted.
"Yes," Dean breathed, his own voice husky with desire. His briefs were pushed down as he rolled on top between the open legs. He lead a long passionate kiss on that hungry mouth and thrust slowly in. A moan issued from both, pain mixed with pleasure, pure and desperate. Long legs wrapped around Dean to assist in their movements, awkward at first but quickly they found that perfect rhythm.
Sweat slicked their bodies as they moved in pleasure. His mouth caught frenzied kisses, fighting for dominance, teeth catching his lip, biting till he bled. Hands that were once soft, now held Dean in a frantic grip, fingernails scraping long, bleeding scratches down his back and buttocks. One of Dean's hands held on so tight as to leave bruises and his other snaked up into that long silky hair. Tangling it in his fingers Dean grabbed a handful and pulled back causing that long neck to be exposed. A cry of pain and yearning came from that beautifully bruised mouth. Devouring the supple skin with kisses and bites, Dean began to move faster. Their desire demanding release, passion fueling their fire, until at last they came in a perfectly timed abatement.
He moved from between the long legs, rolling onto his abused back, spent and despairing. Knowing it would not last and he just would end up alone again, Dean clung to this coveted time with an ache that tore at his soul. Lying boneless he had not even bothered to pull up his briefs bunched on his thighs, listening as the breathing next to him even out then felt movement that left him alone on the bed. Hearing the shower, Dean wanted to drift off into a dreamless sleep, to distance himself from the future, but too soon the shower stopped and he heard the rustling of towels and clothes. Closing his eyes, he pretended to sleep though he should have not even tried because this one always knew when he was faking. He felt his briefs being pulled off and a warm washcloth bathing his body.
"Don't," Dean begged, not wanting the intimate touches to connect them. He wanted distance and time to mend his walls that he let crumble.
"Please," replied a husky voice filled with an unconsolable sadness. Fingers, feathery again, explored his body seeking injuries.
"Yes," dejected he acquiesced, tears filling his eyes and emotion shook his voice. He allowed himself to be nursed and cleaned, comforted by those gentle hands. He hissed when they tended the scratches and bit back a forlorn cry when they left. He remained on his stomach breathing in their scent, remembering. The sweat soaked bed sheets held onto the stench of sex and desperation, reminding him that what they did was wrong.
He should have never given in, never have let himself he pulled into this cycle of pleasure and pain. Everyone else he could hold at arms' length, not letting them in, always on the outside. Dean was the perpetual one night stand, satisfying the bodily urges, giving and taking pleasure. He remained untouched by emotion, closed off and selfish. But this one got under his skin, corrupting his defenses, destroying his resolve. With this one Dean opened up and fell apart, letting it all in and giving it all back: joy, comfort, love. No matter what he did he could not deny, always giving in to that wish. It was a wish that had him fooled into thinking he was needed just as much as he needed.
Rolling over onto his hurt back Dean suppressed a groan, the muscles were sore and the scratches stung. It would be worse in the morning but he required the pain to remind him that pain was all he would be left with. It helped him push his defenses back into place, solid up his resolve, and repair his walls.
When he thought he was ready he spoke into the darkness, "Wake me at 9:00 if you are up. I want to be on the road by ten." Dean's tone was dry, devoid of any emotions. His hurt was again locked away with all his other ambitions.
"Dean," Sam began startling his older brother by his proximity. He was standing over Dean's bed looking at him. Dean closed his eyes trying to ignore the silent apology Sam's eyes were projecting, 'Forgive me.'
"Go to bed, Sam," gruffly Dean said, his voice laced with his own thoughts, 'Forget it.' He did not want to have this conversation, he never did, why did Sam always try?
"Dean," softly the reply drew out the name. Sam would not give up easily, he never did, sitting on the bed he placed his hand on Dean's face, gently turning it to him emoting, 'I'm sorry.'
"Damn it Sam, go to sleep. We have a long trip tomorrow and we need the rest," Dean pushed his younger brother away, both physically and mentally, 'Stop it, please.' He rolled over to his side, facing away from Sam, wanting for all the world to say, 'There is nothing to forgive. I love you.'
"Night Dean," Sam said in a far away voice, hurt. Dean could hear the swish of fabric as Sam got into bed. A sigh and a cough later and Sam was drifting off, soon the motel room was filled with soft snores.
"Night Sam," Dean whispered, nearly choking on the sorrow that crept up on him, 'Don't leave me.' He had reset his resolve, rebuilt his walls, and re-enforced his defenses, but Sam knew how to pick the locks.
When Sam wished, Dean granted.
End