The Winchester boys were mad at each other.

They had been on the road hunting for several weeks without much of a break. After killing a hydra in the swamps of Virginia, they had tracked at least ten more aquatic monsters all the way across the country, until they wound up in Minnesota at the headwaters of the Mississippi River. They had followed the river southwards all the way to New Orleans, hoping to finally catch the beast that had spawned all of these aquatic atrocities. During that time, however, they had fought.

Normally, their disagreements were minor – Sam had taken too long in the shower, Dean had eaten too many burgers and had become a noxious biohazard – small stuff that never really caused a lot of antagonism between the two of them. However, Sam had done something bad he had wrecked the Impala. He had been drinking one night, and thinking he was sober enough for a joy drive – dammit he liked to go fast too – had driven the Impala into a ditch. The damage wasn't even that bad, or so Sam had thought. The worst part was that he had lied to Dean about it. He had told him he was trying to dodge a drunk driver and had ran off the road. However, Dean had seen right through the story and had beaten the truth out of him. Sam had apologized profusely and sworn up and down that he wouldn't do it again. Dean wasn't about to forgive him easily, and he still hadn't, even after Sam had scrounged for the money himself to have the car fixed and cleaned up. The fact that Dean didn't fix it himself signified that even he couldn't repair his beloved automobile.

The silence that accompanied their traveling, Sam could handle. Dean wasn't always talkative. Fine, that was normal for him but this time it was just deadening. What Sam missed the most was the easy camaraderie, the intimacy, the sex. God, the sex. Dean hadn't so much as helped doctor a wound since he had beaten him up. Sam had forgiven him for it – truthfully he felt like he had deserved it. But now, after over a month without any sort of physical contact with Dean, he was horny. Horny like he had never been before. He knew Dean was too, after God knows how many nights he had heard him sneak off to the bathroom to relieve his tensions. Sam would jack off right along with him, listening to Dean's moans and when he was done, pretend he was sleeping so that Dean was none the wiser. But Dean wasn't ready to forgive him, and that meant no sex. Sam's understanding had run out a long time ago. He would have expected at least a grudge fuck by now, and his frustration was mounting. And now, as they pulled into a small motel on the outskirts of the city, Sam was beginning to form a plan. He would get what he wanted, even if he had to take drastic measures to do so.

. . .

After meeting up with local law enforcement and making their ways (separate from each other) around to the witnesses for more information, they had both decided that alcohol would unwind their nerves after the day's long haul. Dean was shooting pool, trying his best to win some money and not think about Sam. He knew Sam was sorry, but fuck, he couldn't let him off easy. The Impala was, after Sam, the most important thing in his life. It had been the only important permanent home he had ever had, and dammit Sammy needed to get that through his head. That head, with all of that hair that Dean loved to run his fingers through after sex... Dean shook his head, lining up his shot. The guy he was playing against was good, really good, and if Dean won, there was 2,000 bucks in it for him. If he lost... well he didn't want to think about it.

Right as he looked up after sinking his target, he saw Sam walk into the bar. He looked incredible. He had shaved, combed his hair really well, and was wearing a pair of jeans that Dean could swear made his ass look like a pair of... well he didn't even have a good comparison but he knew that he wanted it bad – really, really bad. He was convinced that he could smell the cologne that Sam was wearing. Sam had put on a black button down that might as well have been see-through because Dean could almost see the outline of muscles in his back and shoulders. But he wasn't about to let himself cave just because Sam had put effort into making himself look good. Not that it was difficult for Sam Winchester to manage such a thing. Dammit Dean pull yourself together. He remembered that he was playing pool and the guy he was up against was standing there with a quizzical expression on his face, wondering what Dean was staring so hard at. "Old business partner – bad history there" Dean explained with as casual of a smile as he could manage. "Shall we continue?" He gestured to the pool table. His opponent chalked the up the end of his pool cue, and Dean stood there, fighting the lust and frustration that was building inside him.

. . .

Across the bar, Sam could almost feel Dean's eyes boring into him. Right now, he thought to himself, he's drooling, staring at me. Sam had that effect on people, especially Dean. But he knew Dean wasn't going to give in quite so easy, so he put the next part of his plan into action. Eying his fellow patrons at the bar, he looked over them carefully then saw precisely what he was looking for. She was drop dead gorgeous. Her hair was a dark red, falling across her shoulders in a cascade that seemed to have no end. Her eyes burned a bright greenish gold, belying a fire in them that was irresistible. Her face was shaped like a heart, with a pert little nose and full lips that curled into an easy smile. Clinging to her body, and barely containing two breasts, was a red sleeveless cocktail dress that stopped mid-thigh on her long, toned legs.

In another life, Sam would have taken her home with him. But that wasn't what he was here for. He needed to make Dean jealous in the worst way possible, and she could certainly help with that. He gazed in her direction, smiling at her in a way that could only be described as inviting. She caught Sam's eye, and when she looked at him, his heart skipped a beat. Maybe this wouldn't be all acting after all. She beckoned him over. Sam glanced over towards the pool tables, where Dean was trying his hardest to pretend that he hadn't seen Sam. Was that sweat he saw on Dean's brow?

"And what is the name of the lady that I owe this pleasure to?" Sam said as he settled himself onto the stool next to her.

"Marion." She said in a contralto voice. "It's a pleasure..." She paused, waiting for him to respond.

"Sam. Sam Winchester." He held out his hand. She took it, shaking it with a light but firm grip. Sam felt his pulse quicken. She really was incredibly attractive and Sam's base instincts were certainly responding. But he needed to be honest with her. "Look" he said "I need you to do me a favor. My.." he almost said brother but caught himself "partner is here and well, he's kind of been a shithead lately. So if you could..." Marion put a finger to his lips. "Sweetheart say no more. In fact I'm here with the same purpose." She cocked her head towards where, surprisingly enough, the pool table where Dean was. "See tall, dark, and handsome there? My husband. He's mad at me for ruining his precious grill. I paid to have the damn thing rebuilt from the ground up and he still won't let it go. Men and their toys – they get possessive, don't they?. And, quite frankly, I'm sick of him not speaking to me and I've been dying for a good fuck, so I let the girls out tonight." She pointed towards her breasts. "Sound similar?"

"Actually yeah. Except I wrecked his car and then lied about it. Then he beat the shit out of me. Sad thing is that's the last physical contact I've had with him for over a month. I forgave him for it a long time ago but he's still sore at me." He looked at Dean, who was doing his best to throw telepathic daggers at him. Sam tossed him a cheeky smile and a wink. The pool cue in Dean's hands nearly snapped. Dean turned back around. "I think it's working." Sam said. "Seems like your man there is starting to feel it too." He looked at Dean's pool partner. He looked as if he was trying to decide who to eviscerate first, him or Marion.

. . .

"Can you believe it?" Dean said. "They're playing us." He turned to his opponent, whom he had found out whose name was Marcus.

"Until she actually does something – which she won't – I'm gonna let her suffer." Marcus was a pretty good looking dude. Tall like Sam, except he was twice as mean and twice as vulgar. Dean wouldn't have given the guy a second look had it not been for the fact that his significant other was being a bitch too. "You think we're doing the right thing Deano?"

Deano. He could have decked Marcus then and there, but he wasn't going do that. Not yet anyway. "Yeah, I do. They can't have us until they deserve it." Dean realized what he was saying was ludicrous, but he was too damn stubborn for his own good. It was Sam – and only Sam – who could both turn him on and make him so goddamn angry at the same time, and right now he was feeling both in full force. He shifted uncomfortably, his erection rubbing against his thigh. He tried to concentrate on his pool game – he was up to 4,000 dollars now and wasn't interested in losing. But he was more interested in Sam's body. After he took his next shot, he looked back over to Sam. The bitch had her hand on Sam's knee, and it was moving up his thigh. Then she leaned in for a kiss. That's when Dean moved.

. . .

Sam met Marion's lips with his own. She was an amazing kisser. Forceful, but gentle. He could tell there was a passion in her that any man would have been lucky to experience. Right as he was opening his mouth to let her tongue slide in, he felt a strong hand clamp down on his left shoulder. He was suddenly facing Dean, who was flushed red with anger. Through clenched teeth, he said in a low and very dangerous voice "We. Are. Leaving." Right behind him was Marcus, who was already leading Marion out the door. She turned around and gave Sam a thumbs up. Dean collected his money in the parking lot, and then marched Sam over to the Impala. Sam was feeling better every second. Partly because his plan had worked and partly because Dean was touching him. Not that it felt very good, but right now it was more than he had gotten in awhile.

Dean held the back of his arm tight as they moved towards the car. He slammed Sam up against it, causing his breath to be forced out of him. "Dude what the hell?" Sam was about to speak again when Dean had his arms behind his back. Sam heard him unbuckle his belt, and warm leather was suddenly wrapping its way around his wrists. Then he spun Sam around and grabbed him by his shirtfront. "You want to fuck? I sure hope so because the second we're back in the motel room I'm going to ruin you. I think someone needs to be reminded who he belongs to." He opened the door and shoved Sam in. Sam was positively shaking with anticipation at this point. This was exactly what he had been hoping for.

. . .

Dean was surprised that he didn't pick up any cops on the way back to their lodgings, considering how fast he was going. But Sam had gone too far, even if he knew that deep down it wasn't genuine. Frankly, Dean was finding it harder and harder to stay angry. Instead, he was immensely turned on by seeing his brother struggle against his makeshift restraints in the seat next to him. He silently forgave him, and realized what a bonehead he had been this whole time. A month and half without feeling Sam's touch had been way too much to handle. Dammit he missed being held by Sammy, the way he would put his arms around him when they kissed, their long talks about nothing in particular. Dean was sorry, really sorry that he hadn't given in before. The car was just metal and rubber, but Sam... Sam was irreplaceable. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to ride him hard before he let him know that. With a screech of rubber, he turned into the motel parking lot, nearly clipping a minivan. He opened the door, hearing Sam start to ask to let him out before slamming it shut. He opened Sam's door, and worked on unbuckling his seatbelt. After he had, he pulled Sam in for a kiss – wet, needy, and oh so wonderful. He helped Sam – who was still tied up – out of the car, closing the door behind him.

"Dean?" Sam asked as Dean unlocked their door.

"What's up Sammy?" Dammit this lock was being a bitch.

"Can you uh... let me go now. My arms hurt." Sam was visibly uncomfortable. Fuck it Dean thought. He had learned. Besides, he needed those arms around him – bad. He moved behind Sam, removing his belt. As soon as he did, Sam spun him around and kissed him just as hard as Dean had in the car. Dean backed him up against the door – which Dean still hadn't unlocked. Luckily no one was around to see the two of them embracing. Sam broke them apart. As much he was enjoying this – and that was a lot – he didn't exactly want everyone to see them. He cocked his towards the door. Dean nodded in understanding. As he felt for his keys once more, he felt Sam's strong arms around him, his mouth nibbling at his ear. It sent little shocks throughout Dean's body every time his teeth made contact with the tender skin. Sam knew exactly how to make him weak in the knees.

Finally he got the door open, and as soon as it had shut again Sam had him against the wall. Sam was holding him so tight that he was afraid he would crack one of his ribs, but Dean didn't care in the slightest. He held Sammy's head in his hands, exploring every part of his mouth with his tongue. It never failed to amaze Dean how much heat radiated from within this man – his man. How soft the inside of his mouth was, how his tongue fought back with his own, how he moaned every time Dean bit his bottom lip. That was another thing that he loved about Sam – that voice. He loved hearing it coax him awake in the morning, his laugh when Dean told a dirty joke, or when he was making love, calling out Dean's name, asking for more.

Dean's hands moved lower, trying his best to not rip the buttons off as he unfastened them. Finally Sam just moved his hands aside and tore the shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. Dean lifted his own t-shirt over his head, having discarded his jacket as soon as they had gotten inside. He could feel the warmth of Sam's body even more now, and he rubbed up against it, trying to press as much of his skin to Sam as possible. Sam's hands moved down to Dean's ass, grabbing and squeezing it. This drove Dean wild. Sam lifted him, and getting the message, Dean put his legs around him. Sam wouldn't drop him, he knew it. He liked it when Sam took control – he had decided that tonight, he would let Sam fuck him instead. He needed it more than oxygen. Wanted to make it up to Sam for being such a fuckhead.

"Sammy" kiss "I" kiss "want" kiss "you" kiss "to" kiss "fuck" kiss "me." Sammy pulled back. "Are you sure Dean? Earlier I thought you were gonna bend me over in the parking lot." Dean pushed Sam's long tresses back from his face. "No. I want to make up for being an ass. And for beating you up." Another long kiss. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. I love you – way more than a damn car." Dean touched his forehead to Sam's, looking into his eyes. "I want this, not being angry at you. This is so much better." Sam smiled wide. He might be a dumbass sometimes, but Dean Winchester was always genuine when he apologized. Of course, the pleading in his eyes helped too. "Dean we can be touchy-feely later. Right now I'm interested in something a little different." With more passion than before, Sam kissed him. He could feel his erection straining against his jeans and with Dean wrapped around him like this it was taking all of his self-control to not cream his pants right there. He carried them over to the bed, turning so that Dean was on top. It was only when they had sex that Sam was self-conscious of his height – he felt like a giant looming over Dean. But being on the bottom certainly had its advantages. Sam put his arms around Dean, pulling him in close to nip at his neck. In turn, Dean began biting down on his shoulder, just hard enough to make Sam's whole body twitch in a good way. They had, over the course of the almost four years that they had been sleeping together, become attuned to each other's bodies really well. Every time felt like the first time, never boring or routine. Sam knew how to make Dean writhe and wriggle and Dean knew how to make Sam beg for mercy.

Finally, they couldn't take it anymore. Dean got up fast, and in as swift a motion as possible removed his pants and underwear. For good measure, Sam had worn his black briefs. Seeing them with Sam's leaking cock straining through them nearly made Dean orgasm before they got any further. Instead he crawled back on top of Sam, kissing and grinding his cock against the thin, dark fabric that separated them. He could feel the precome wetting the front of Sammy's underwear, helping him glide against it. "Fuck... De... so hot" Sam was getting harder and harder, if that was possible. Dean was doing this purely to drive him mad. He couldn't take it anymore. He more or less threw Dean off of him, and stripped his underwear off in one swift motion. His cock sprang out, every vein sticking out, pulsating. The head was flushed a deep purple, darker from all the blood that had drained to it. It looked like it was weeping, so heightened was his arousal.

Dean got on his knees and started to suck. He lapped up Sam's precome, rolling it around on his tongue, exploring its sweet/salty taste before swallowing it. Sam put his hand on the back of his head, urging to Dean to get closer and closer to deep throating him. For once, he managed it. He thrilled at being balls deep in Dean's mouth. It felt amazing. He could also tell that if he stayed there much longer, he was gonna choke Dean with cum. As gently as he could, he pushed Dean off. "Need you – now." Dean complied, and got on the bed, bending over.

Now it was Sam's turn to do some oral work of his own. He got on his knees and spread Dean's cheeks, Dean backing his hips onto Sam's mouth. Dean felt Sam's tongue plunge into his hole. Luckily he had cleaned himself well before he'd gone out, secretly in anticipation of just this happening. Sam had started eating his ass out more and more. He loved it – more than getting head. His tongue expertly worked Dean's entrance, probing and hitting ever nerve, every little sweet spot back there, making Dean shake and shudder. His cock was throbbing harder and harder now, jumping every time Sam plunged his tongue back into the hole. "Sa... Sammy. Please..." He couldn't even form a damn sentence so much was he at his brother's mercy. He felt the warmth leave him, replaced by a liquid sensation as Sam poured lube on him. Then he felt the head of his condom-covered cock. "Ready Dean?" All Dean could do was nod. Then, with one quick thrust, Sam was inside him.

He felt wonderful. Sam was thick, really thick and it hit every nerve in Dean's ass. He grabbed Dean's hips and started to pump. Each time Sam's cock slammed back into him, he cried out. At first they started out relatively quiet. Dean tried to contain himself, but he couldn't. Sam made him beg, beg for him to go faster and faster. Sam was holding back though. He knew that if he went any faster, he wouldn't last. He wanted this to go on for awhile, wanted to make Dean feel good, wanted to make himself feel good after being denied this pleasure for so long. Dean's face was buried in the sheets, doing his best to muffle what were becoming shouts of pleasure every time Sam hit his prostate. He sped up, every pump pushing him closer and closer to the chasm of climax. Sam pulled out and flipped Dean on his back, then went right back in. He looked into Dean's eyes, his face a mask of pleasure as he watched those big green eyes burn with lust. "Sammy.." Dean's breaths were coming in gasps now, and he could swear Dean was crying a little bit. "Fuck... so... good.. Sa..." Dean was shaking as Sam stroked his cock. It was pouring precum now, allowing Sam to stroke faster and faster. Dean's legs closed around him, trying to urge him even deeper inside. Sam sped up, his balls slapping against Dean's ass, that perfect ass. The heat building up within him finally broke, and Sam came. He came harder than he ever had before in his life. He yelled Dean's name at the top of his lungs, and not a second later he felt his brother climax, come flying everywhere as Sam continued to stroke his cock. The noise that he let out was somewhere between a mix of Sam's name and a moan. Finally, he dropped down to the bed with Sam still inside. He moved out, and pulled off the condom. Tying it up, he tossed it at the garbage can. Dean was panting, laying there covered in come, looking, as best as Sam could put it, to be in a bit of a state of shock. Dean Winchester, scariest hunter in the States, was completely spent and emptied. He laid down next to Dean, taking his hand in his.

After what seemed like an hour, still covered in half dried cum, he moved and put his head on Sam's shoulder. "Sammy" he began, having finally caught his breath, "I feel like shit for treating you the way I did. I never meant to hurt you that bad. I didn't realize how much it had been hurting me too. After tonight, I know that I won't let a car come between us again – ever. But dammit Sammy, please respect me and my property." Dean looked up into Sam's eyes, pleading. It melted Sam's heart, seeing him like that. "Dean I will never, ever take it again without your permission. I was a jackass for doing it. I know how much she means to you. And I know how much you mean to me, so if it's something that's gonna drive us apart like that again – Dean I don't want anything to do with it." He pulled Dean close, holding him. This is what kept Sam going, fighting. He loved him more than anything else in this world, so he certainly wasn't going to ruin that again. "Hey Dean."

"Mmmhmm?" was the contented reply.

"Want to go make out in the shower?"

Dean's smile was the only answer he needed.