Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just a fan.

Set at the end of s04 ep5..MONSTER MOVIE

prequel to ..."THE WHISTLE BLOWER" and "REVENGE IN A BROWN PAPAER BAG" but can be read as a stand alone

SAM/DEAN...ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

WARNING...KINK...READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

"I thought you'd be going home with Jamie. Giving her 'comfort'?"

Dean shot his brother a disgusted look. "She says she wants some 'alone time'. That she's too 'fragile' to have company right now!"

Sam found it hard to keep the grin from his face, especially as Dean kicked at the dirt with a dispirited foot. The way that he was dressed, in the white embroidered blouson tucked into the Lederhosen, Sam thought he was the perfect picture of the little boy thwarted in his attempt to steal the grumpy neighbour's apples from his prize tree. It was adorable. All that was missing was the 'ah, shucks!'. What Dean was actually mumbling under his breath was anything but cute.

But Sam glowed inside. He would never dream of denying Dean his assignations with the occasional woman, especially now as he had only just 'returned', but he was glad it had fallen through.

He selfishly wanted his brother to himself. And it was selfish. He had Ruby and Dean had no one, nothing. But then he never had. Only Sam had lasted longer than a couple of weeks. That was before. Since his return, Dean had not come near him.

Sam had not pushed. He had thought to give him time and let his brother come to him but now he was feeling it. The itch, the thing, the… 'It'. He wanted 'It'. He wanted Dean.

Now, pulling the car up in front of the latest motel room, after sitting so close to him, feeling the heat from his strong body, Sam determined he was going to get 'it', him.

Once inside, Dean just sort of loitered in the middle of the room, unsure what to do. What he really wanted to do was fuck someone, someone soft and curvy. Someone like Jamie. He was at a loss now. He could change and go out maybe, but sensed Sam was relieved that he was here.

That just made him even more antsy because Sam would not come near him. The only time they had touched had been that first hug when he had turned up at his door and Sam had stopped trying to kill him, and during a hunt, picking each other up off the floor. He was tired of it. He wanted an intimate touch, a lover's caress. He needed it.

And if not? If Sam would not touch him in love?

Then he wanted to get fucked. He wanted Sam to fuck him through the floor.

He watched his brother as Sam also appeared to be hovering. He lifted his head and an eyebrow and was about to give him his 'come hither' look, or rather his 'come and fuck me' grin, but Sam spoke.

"I'll take first shower if that's alright," and he had disappeared before Dean could get a word out.

Wrapped in a towel, Sam stared at himself in the mirror. He should just go out there, walk straight up to Dean, grab him then kiss him. But what if his brother pushed him off? That would hurt and he was feeling far too wound up to be able to cope with such rejection. He was unsure what he should dare as he did not know where they stood now that Dean was back.

They had had an avid sex life before Dean had been dragged from him, literally, becoming intense and frenzied in the days before his deal was up. But since he was back there had been nothing. Not even a tender, hesitant touch, never mind a full on make out session or fuckfest.

Enough, and he pushed back from the sink, moving, preparing to exit and face his brother.

Dean looked up as the door to the bathroom opened.

"Take that off. You look ridiculous." Sam could not believe Dean was still wearing those damn Lederhosen.

It was not that Dean did not want to get out of the inane costume, he could not. He had wanted to be ready, to be standing there naked, his body letting Sam know just what he had in mind but that had not happened.

He had tried but for some reason he could not work out how to get out of it. There was no working zipper or fastening, they were just for show, so no flies. The buttons on the braces, the suspender part of the Lederhosen, did not work either as they had just been sewn on for pure decoration. He had spent a frustrating five minutes trying to force his arms through the straps but the 'bib' part was so tight he had given up and just stood there cursing.

All he had managed to do was make himself hot and acquire a none too pleasant chaffing in a none too pleasant area. One thing was certain, under the ridiculous shorts, he was commando which led to all sorts of other thoughts he did not want or need. He was nearly as concerned as to how he had 'gotten' into them as he was as to how he was to get out.

"Make me!" Dean replied, putting in as much challenge and innuendo as he could, thinking that this could be an opportunity to get Sam to actually 'touch' him, but the frustration from both the lack of contact and the imprisoning binds of the damn costume made his voice sound angry and vindictive.

Sam's response to the almost vicious spitting rebuke was instant. Anger flared behind his eyes and he wanted nothing more than to rush over there and rub the words out of his brother's mouth. He had been waiting so long, had missed his touch, missed touching him and he was just stood there in the pathetic outfit looking petulant and…wait.

Sam looked closer as Dean practically vibrated on the spot. He suddenly became aware of the tension, thick enough in the air to pulse up against his cooling skin. Sam turned his back on him, all his senses heightened enough to hear the barely suppressed moan of almost despair as Dean obviously believed that he was abandoning him.

This had gone on for long enough. He had been intent on 'reconnecting' with his brother, hell, he wanted to fuck him, but after that vocal slap across his face, Sam was in no mood to let Dean off easy and he was determined to remind the man just what it meant to challenge and goad his brother.

Keeping his movements slow, convinced the older man was still watching, Sam almost sashayed over to the wall next to the still open bathroom door and, turning his head to quickly glance over at Dean, he let his body follow as he swung around and lazily fell back against the dark wallpaper. Standing with just his shoulders touching the cool surface, Sam appeared to be studying his left hand as his body twisted, his hips prominent as his legs bent slightly.

Dean's breath had fled as his brother just turned away from him and he had not thought to breath again before it was too late, before Sam positioned himself like some homoerotic painting of martyrdom, the white towel tucked low enough on those slim hips for Dean to see the bottom edge of his well defined oblique muscles, the folded over towel barely covering the top of his pubic hair. Dean could do nothing but stare at that trail of dark hairs on the flat belly that he had always loved to catch up in his teeth.

Sam was not looking at him, but Dean knew he was aware of his every move, so he desperately made none. He wanted to fall to his knees in front of this living, breathing Adonis. His muscles were as sculpted as any ancient Grecian statue of a laurel crowned Olympian athlete and he was obviously as proud of his body. It was even bigger, better defined than it had been the last time he had seen it, had gotten to touch it.

He swayed forwards slightly as Sam's hands moved to his torso. He had to tell himself to breath as those large hands began to caress over the smooth pale skin, the summer sun becoming a distant memory.

Sam was not too sure what he wanted but he looked down at himself, stretching his neck forwards, still with his shoulders against the wall. He wanted to incite his brother, to enflame him, but to what end he was none to certain. He wanted him flush against himself, his body pressing, insisting, all along his own. He wanted him here at his feet, his eyes staring up as he took him in that mouth that could send him to places he could never achieve by any other's.

He wanted Dean begging. He wanted Dean to demand. To stop standing there and stride over to him, to seize him in a viscous grip and force him to his knees. He wanted him to just fucking move! But his brother was motionless.

Dean continued to let Sam torment and tempt him. It would take much more than this now. Sam was a beginner, a rank amateur and had no idea how much more Dean would be able to dish out. His eyes turned to slits as he thought of the things he could do to that body, how he could make it squirm and writhe, how he could make Sam pled and beg. How he could make him scream.

He took in a shocked breath and turned away from the sight, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth as he banished the images that had sprang to his mind, images of hurting Sam, of making him whimper in pain and submission, but still he had to look. He turned his head to watch over his shoulder as his brother bit at his bottom lip, those frown lines creasing his forehead.

What the hell? The Dean Sam knew should not be able to resist this. He had never been able to before. He let his right hand press harder, dragging at his skin as it worked its way down, his left lightly caressing in its journey up then carry on up the wall above, there to rest curved above him.

From his bent head, he looked up from under his brows and almost glared straight into his brother's eyes as he let his hand reduce its pressure and he used only the tips of his fingers to ruffle up and down that trail of hair descending from his navel that he knew his brother had an almost fetishist appreciation for.

It was unbelievable that the man was still just stood there. He could see that he had his brother's rapt attention but he could not ever remember having to work this hard at it before. He closed his eyes and pushed his head back, teeth gently catching at his bottom lip.

Then his mouth burst open as he made a mewling noise just as he pushed his hand flat to his belly, pushing down onto his prick, the towel bursting open and falling to pool at his feet. He used the length of his hand to slowly caress up and down his burgeoning prick ensuing that it remained as covered as the size would let it, teasing Dean.

Arm over his head stretching out as he thrust his crotch forwards, his head fell to the side, his eyes closing as he could feel the other eyes on him, as he hardened under the regard and his own palm. He pulled his suddenly heavy head forwards slowly, opening his eyes to check on his brother's reactions to be confronted with his own reflection in the blazing green eyes so close to him.

If Dean had not been so fixated on that open, moaning wet mouth, he might have laughed as Sam's head smacked back against the wall in surprise.

Sam smiled at him, his mouth grinning with lust and an almost obscene want, determined not to rub at the back of his head. Also he fought with the impulse to laugh at the absurdity of the look on his brother's face whilst dressed in the 'Hansel' costume. That look had no right to exist on a figure dressed so, innocent, so pure.

Dean made a low deep growl from somewhere at the back of his throat and all merriment fled from Sam as he registered the almost primal lust emanating from his brother in waves. He may well be the physically stronger of the pair but Sam found himself helpless as his hand was pulled from his prick and Dean's body rammed itself against him, his legs forced apart as Dean pushed between them, his teeth catching up Sam's bottom lip.

Dean let his brother's lip free from his teeth, changing to sucking it between his own instead. Immediately he could feel Sam responding to him, his legs becoming jelly as the only thing holding him up against the wall was Dean. Sam's hands moved to his shoulders, his own lips closing on Dean's top one but Dean was not ready for that.

He did not want to 'share' this moment, this experience. As he had stood looking at the display that his brother had put on for him, he had been overwhelmed with a desire to worship the younger man in the manner that he deserved, forcing the disquieting impulses far down to worry at another time, if ever. Still he reminded him of an Olympian of old and he wanted to do him righteous homage, showing his admiration and gratitude more than simply desire. Mainly though, selfishly, he wanted to explore the planes and angles of this new body, to take his time to discover each new outline and shape, curve and contour.

Without letting up on his capture of that bottom lip, Dean smoothed his hands down along Sam's arms, feeling his bulging biceps, his fingers pressing into the triceps, over the bones of the elbows and on to surround and grasp the strong wrists. Then he forced Sam to let go of his own shoulders and pushed his brother's arms up, over his head.

Sam did not fight the repositioning. He was more than willing to let Dean have his way with him just as long as he did. He was so relieved that his brother was finally touching him, was pushed up so tight against him. He had been forced to wait far too long and now, even though he wanted to take him in his arms and bow him to the ground as in some old fashioned romantic melodrama, he was willing to let his brother take what he needed.

Hopefully he himself would also have his need for reconnection and tenderness filled. He just prayed that…. all his thoughts fled at the feel of Dean's mouth on his throat, the teeth nipping up the skin. His head tilted to the side and he closed his eyes, moaning as the hot tongue slavered his skin just before Dean began to gently suck.

Sam tasted so good, he tasted so clean and not just due to his recent shower. His brother had always somehow tasted innocent to Dean. He knew he was not, knew his younger sibling was responsible for much and was currently such a mystery to him. It was all in his head, a left over from the days when they were young and Sam was this shinning child in his charge. Whatever the reason, Dean could not get enough of that taste now, he needed to savour that tang and began to move his mouth, sucking up the skin, licking, tasting, all around the stretched neck and shoulders.

His hands held onto the sides, just under Sam's arms, his thumbs lightly caressing the hairs in the hollows formed by the position. Licking at the Adam's apple, his tongue slid down to lead onto the well developed chest. He rubbed his cheek against the hard pectoral and liked it, so he repeated the action, enjoying the hardness against his face, enjoying the feel of skin moving, dragging against his own. He turned his face, his features pressing in hard, his lips now dragging after as he explored every inch of the magnificent torso.

Finding it harder and harder not to grab hold of his brother, Sam bit at his bottom lip as Dean continued to rub against him. It reminded Sam of a cat, rubbing his face, his hair none too gently across his body. He held onto his own forearms, still over his head against the wall, to keep them from grabbing the still costumed shoulders. His prick was so hard, caught between their bodies, only getting Dean's attention in so much as his clothes rubbed against it as he moved, slowly working his way down Sam's muscled chest.

Twisting his legs on feet still in the hiking boots, Dean lowered himself, losing his body's contact with the other but he had to follow that dip between the delineated abs leading downwards, leading to that navel and the trail of dark hairs he had always loved. He forced himself not to rush but to continue to appreciate every inch of this sculpted Adonis. He could not get the image from his mind.

Adonis had been fought over and ultimately destroyed by three goddesses. Sam was his. He did not know if he was his alone but he intended to make his claim and prove to Sam that he was all that he needed whilst still taking all that he could from him. His hands followed his downwards movement and now curved over the prominent hip bones, not an ounce of needless flesh anywhere on the frame. Then his tongue was pushing into the tight navel, his chin pushing onto the so taut belly.

Sam could not help but to move, to writhe under the attentions as the side of Dean's face practically pushed his prick out of its way to rest against his cheek. His legs were on the verge of giving out, a look of almost pain on his face as he could not help but to squirm against the wall, his head moving from side to side, his own cheek rubbing against his upper arms as they fidgeted but still remained over his head.

His shoulders slid down the wall slightly as his hips thrust forwards and the grip tighten on his hips to almost bruising as his brother regained his balance. He wanted to speak but did not know what to say. He wanted to beg but did not know for what, to plead that Dean do something, do anything. All he could do was whimper as he hoped Dean would soon do that 'something', to relieve his aching, weeping prick.

Dean knew he was leaving small sucking bite marks all along the line of that belly hair as he caught it between teeth and lips. He tugged at the hairs with his teeth, receiving a hiss and causing Sam to push from the wall again as he pulled, plucking at the hair right at the bottom of the trail. Then opening his mouth, he moved to cover the pubic bone above the base of the prick that was so hard and hot against his flesh, feeling each of the liquid drops weeping from the head wetting his skin as he gently bit then sucked.

Finally he was on his knees before the twisting, whimpering, writhing figure and he knelt back, gazing up to let his eyes drink in this vision, warm, needy and craving his touch. He did not smile, there was no smirk or grin on his lips. He looked up in shear adoration and amazement, his mouth falling open slightly as it literally watered.

Sam opened his eyes and let his gaze, in turn, move to fall on his brother. His eyes opened wide and he took in a quick breath as he saw Dean. His brother was looking at him with such an appearance of awe, of wonder and admiration that Sam froze, staring at the image of a penitent in supplication. The sight was so erotic to him, he felt his prick swell even more, and it 'jumped' catching Dean's lips that were so close, leaving another smear of precum just to the left of his mouth.

Seeing the rapt attention on his older brother's momentary youthful seeming face, his visage that of an inexperienced youth, he wanted to tease. Slowly and exaggeratedly, he moved his weight from one leg and hip to the other, rising up, moving his arms which were still holding onto each other, to the other side of his head then relaxing back down, all the time keeping 'hard' eye contact.

Dean did nothing but blink.

==000==

TBC...