First part of a two-part Wincest story I'm writing for a friend. The second part will be longer, promise.
It was four in the morning, the precise time of morning/night/dawn that Sam Winchester wanted to be as quiet as he possibly could, and he was making as much noise as was humanly possible. Dean was not exactly a heavy sleeper, and although his older brother was currently cocooned in a shell of comforters, a pillow over his head, Sam knew it was just a matter of time before he managed to run into something and wake Dean up.
Everything was ten times louder now than it was during the day; the bed he was sleeping in creaked, the air conditioner rattled, and the floor, bowed from Texas humidity, made the most horrible groaning noises whenever he tried to walk across it. Which was exactly what he was trying to do now, half-naked, half-asleep, and definitely not more than half-aware, a towel clutched in his calloused hands as he navigated the messy maze that made up their hotel room.
He stepped on a Twinkie wrapper, the crinkle of cellophane sounding louder than a jet engine in the small room, and automatically stopped, staring at Dean, who simply rolled over in his nest and didn't react. Sam relaxed; he just wanted to get to the bathroom, take a piss, take a shower, and then go get breakfast for the two of them before his older brother woke up. It was one of those cases, the ones that grated on both of them mentally and physically to a point of pure frustration, where they were fighting like an old married couple and stretched far beyond normal limits.
So Sam felt like he didn't want to spend this Tuesday morning fighting with his brother, and had decided he would make sure they had a good breakfast and a miniscule break before one of them ended up dead by the other's hand. The youngest Winchester scurried to the bathroom, shutting the door as quietly as he could and taking a much needed leak before turning on the shower, half-expecting goop to rain out of the showerhead before a trickle of lukewarm water started.
The brunette relaxed a bit, stepping in and letting the shower rain down on his shoulders, tense and bruised from his encounter the day before with the… whatever it was they were hunting. A chupacabra? It was one of the most out there things he had ever encountered, and the reality of it tended to slip by him. The shower felt like heaven at the moment, his whole body relaxing completely, and Sam leaned forward, pressing his head to the cool tile of the shower wall and letting the water splash over his dirt-coated skin.
It wasn't long before a slight flame of uncontrollable lust flared up in the pit of his stomach; it had been weeks since he had done this, and even longer since he had gotten laid. Amidst everything else going on, he had neglected himself, and now he had a little bit of time, a few moments before he needed to get out and start his day.
The brunette ran his tongue over his lower lip, hair sticking to his face as he wrapped a hand around the base of his half-flaccid cock, eyes slipping shut as he moved forward the slightest bit, trying to keep the water off his face as his fingers ran over the spongy flesh, Sam practically teasing himself, keeping the pace slow. He hardened eventually, the beads of precum seeping from his cock getting lost in the water as he jacked off, opening one hazel eye and letting a shaky breath leave his lips. Sam had almost forgotten how good this felt.
The images flickering through his mind would have been disturbing to the brunette, had he not been caught in the throes of masturbation; right now his thoughts were fixated on Dean. Dean's mouth, and how good it would look if he wrapped it around a cock. Dean's body, and Dean's eyes, and just plain Dean; the thought of his older brother ramming him into a seedy motel bed was the most prominent fantasy at the moment, and Sam-of-the-moment didn't find that idea disgusting at all.
His free hand, the one not currently working over his hard cock, slid around to his ass, the Winchester boy shuddering slightly; this was mostly unexplored territory for him. Jess had attempted once or twice to 'try something new', which usually resulted in Sam nearly kicking her off the bed in a mad scramble to get her away from his ass. But now… he had no idea what had possessed him (probably nothing, judging by the tattoo on his chest, but it was a better excuse than having to admit he was about to finger himself) to try a sort-of sexual experiment in the shower.
Sam brought his hand up to his mouth, sucking on two fingers experimentally; he was freaking himself out. This level of lust, this sudden urge… no. This sudden need to do this to himself wasn't normal. But Sam needed more, wanted more, and he dropped his hand, sliding a finger into himself slowly. The sensation was foreign, strange, and for a moment he almost stopped himself, started to pull out… and then his fingertip brushed against that spot inside of him.
Sam's hips jerked forward, the reaction automatic, and the man stood there for a moment, wondering what the fuck had just happened before swallowing, closing his eyes again and searching for the bundle of nerves again. He found it, finger pressing it again, and soon the second one joined it, Sam arching his back and effectively fucking himself, his breathing ragged, aroused.
"Dean," He whimpered without thinking, his brother's name slipping from his lips fluidly. "Oh, god, Dean…" Sam hit that spot inside himself repeatedly, spreading his legs oh-so-slightly, one hand continuing to work his way over his hard shaft, his balls drawing up as he almost pushed himself to that peak, that moment where he would lose himself and come down off that high.
Right now, though, he was content with trying to shove himself off that edge, the sound of water squelching in the palm of his hand the only sound in the bathroom aside from Sam's breaths and rare gasps of his brother's name. It was almost maddening, almost fucking driving him insane, until finally, after hitting the spot that turned him into putty, after jacking off his dick to the point of an ache in his wrist, he came, gushing sperm all over the tile wall of the shower and crying out Dean's name louder than he would have liked. He watched it bead, the stuff rolling down the gray grout and spilling into the water, mixing with it and creating strings as it washed down the drain.
Sam swallowed, staring at his cum and immediately feeling filthy, fingers leaving his ass, hands leaving his cock as he realized he had just jacked off to his brother. Every fantasy that had crossed his mind had been because of his brother. Sam stared at his hand and then quickly washed himself off, trying to calm himself down. He lathered his hair, acting as though he weren't supremely disturbed; he was. It was over the top scary that he had done that while thinking of Dean.
But an image of Dean crossed Sam's mind again and immediately he was growing hard again, the reaction automatic. Sam though t of something, anything to get rid of it; Castiel, Bela…. Bobby. The thought of Bobby naked killed his erection and then some; Sam got out of the shower feeling a tad queasy, toweling himself dry and grabbing his boxers, pulling them on. He walked into the main hotel room, tiptoeing around and finding a pair of jeans, getting those on as well before grabbing a shirt.
It wasn't his; it was Dean's, definitely, judging by the smell, but finding another would result in too much noise, and there was no way he wanted Dean awake after what he had done in the shower. Sam yanked it on, thankful that it was one of his brother's larger shirts; it was still tight on him but at least it fit. He pulled his jacket on after that, heading to the door, getting his wallet off the small table beside it, and heading out into the foggy, humid Texas morning, swallowing and pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes.
If the way the morning was beginning was any indication, this was going to be one hell of a day.