PROLOGUE: SAM

"No!" I crushed his wrists into the wall above his head, immobilizing them. "You don't get to touch. You don't get to see."

"Please. I want to."

I'd never heard him so vulnerable.

"God dammit!" I slammed the heel of my palm into the cinder block beside his head with enough force to make him flinch. "If there is one single person in this world that you don't owe anything to, it's me!" I tipped my head back, growling in frustration. "Physically I am the exact opposite of your type in every way possible. I don't need you touching me, pretending that what you're feeling turns you on, when we both know it's a goddamn lie!"

Pinning his arms with one hand, I closed my eyes, letting the fingers of the other trail down his ribs.

His skin was so unbelievably soft, stretched tightly over hard muscle and too-prominent ribs.

"Please," he whispered, the desperation in that one word reverberating all the way down my spine.

I could feel him trembling, and I rested my forehead against the wall, lips brushing his ear.

"When you told me that no woman had ever touched you like this -" I slid the pads of my fingers over the smooth skin of his belly, hunger spiking at the sharp inhale it elicited from him " - that they just let you do everything, it made me angry, Dean." My fingers traced upwards, skimming over the arc of one perfectly sculpted pectoral muscle. "You should always be touched like this." I could taste the huskiness in my voice. "Worshiped." I pinched his nipple, twisting it gently, and heard his breath catch in his throat. "Cherished." Ducking my head, I allowed my teeth to replace my fingertips, biting gently while my tongue teased at the erect nub.

He moaned, and I nearly fell against him as the sound drained the strength from my legs.

With an effort of will I straightened, pressing him to the wall with my body, our mouths so close that I could feel the faint tickle of his breath on my lips.

I wished I could trust him to keep his hands where they were, wanting nothing more than to have both of my own free to do exactly as I'd said: Cherish him. Worship him.

Instead I switched, now running the flat of my right palm down the underside of his arm, starting at his wrist, slicking down, feeling him tremble as my nails scraped gently through the sweat-damp hair at his armpit, biting my lip at his stuttered breath when the ball of my thumb toyed with his nipple.

"Anyone who is ever lucky enough to be allowed to see you naked, to have a chance to touch you - " the sensation in my chest threatened to drown me, and I paused to swallow. "If that person isn't nearly insane with the need to explore you, to use her hands and her mouth to appreciate how beautiful you are -" I dropped my head, flattening my tongue to lave his chest from nipple to armpit, stopping to suckle that sensitive flesh with its silken fur, his harsh groan and the thrust of his pelvis making my head spin.

I forced my mouth back to his, pressing my forehead to the upper edge of his blindfold.

"Not just your body, Dean: You." I shifted until our hips were square with one another, leaning into him, feeling his hardness and heat through our layers of denim. "I'm touching you," and my voice was a hoarse whisper as I ground against him slowly, fingers spread to caress his ribs, "to show you how fucking amazing you are."

"I'm not -"

I took his mouth, tongue invading as soon as our lips touched, forcing those words, his critical, self-abusive mantra, to dissolve into another moan.

So much desperate hunger.

So much pain.

I pulled his wrists away from the wall, tucking his hands behind his hips. 'Please. Keep them there," I breathed into his mouth, sucking his lower lip into my own, teasing it with my tongue, a silent promise of a thorough reward if he would, just this one time, obey me.

His body trembled against mine.

"This is the most selfish thing I have ever done," I confessed, breath hot along his ear, tongue flicking out to trace that delicate curve, teeth nipping gently at the tender skin of his neck. "I'm not...You don't need to touch me, or tell me you love me -"

"I do love you," and the words were nearly a sob.

"- or make me feel attractive, or make me cum." My lips trailed along the edge of his jaw, loving the stark rigidity, the rugged abrasion of stubble on my bruised lips. "I owe you so much -" it was my turn to choke back a sob " - and you are just broken enough, just desperate enough, to finally let me show you."

"Please. You don't have to -"

"Shhhh." I lapped the words from his mouth, replacing them with my own. "I do. Please, let me, just this once, show you how I see you."

He trembled visibly under the strain of acquiescence.

In our isolation I deified him with my mouth: the strong shoulders that had both carried and consoled me, the broad chest that had shielded me from harm, the lean stomach that had endured hunger so that I wouldn't have to.

Suddenly I was on my knees. My fingers, clumsy with the strength of my overwhelming need, groped inelegantly at his belt. "I'm not doing this for you." I paused in my efforts to bare him, looking up at the man who had always been my hero. I shuddered at the vision he presented, head hanging against his bare and panting chest, the bandages that I had so carefully wrapped around his eyes lying undisturbed against his skin.

More humbling was the realization that he had kept his hands where I had placed them.

His uncharacteristic submission, his demonstration of unqualified trust, spiked a devastating greed in my loins. His button and zipper gave way to my rapacious fumbling, and I curled my fingers into denim and soft cotton. "I need to…" I struggled to sculpt the molten threads of my entire life into a solid form, one that I could give voice to. "I need to gift you this. To make your muscles tense, hear you breath catch, taste your moans. I need to know that for just a little while, I can make you forget your pain and guilt and fear and anger, all of the weight that you force yourself to carry -" Tears throttled me, and I pulled in a shaking breath. "I need to take all of that and just leave you -" I slid the cloth down his hips, closing my eyes against the deep contraction in my own groin as the unmistakable musk of his arousal flooded me "- pleasure." My mouth was wet, yet my voice was raw.

My palms curled over the sharp jut of his hips as I pulled him into me, swallowing his engorged heat down to the root, and his startled cry was so sharp, it might have been pained.

I pulled back, releasing him. "Imagine that I am someone else, Dean. One of the girls you date in high school. A waitress, or a stripper. Whoever you remember, whoever you dream about." I wrapped my mouth around him, driving deep, pulling back hard; once, then again.

He thrust into me, "O-ooh, God!" stuttering from his full lips.

"Please, just let me give you this. For me."

Knowing he could never, would never deny me, I devoured him. Ferocious in my need to atone, I bruised my lips against the fingers I had wrapped around the base of his cock, desperate to pull his pain and his shame out of him, as if I could suck the blackness away like drawing venom from a wound, allow light and love and bliss to explode out from his core and expand, filling him.

Every held breath, every involuntary groan, the trembling in his abdomen, the curl of his body towards me or arch away, every perceptible indication of pleasure struck like a lash along my core, the electric ecstasy of it goading me on. My free hand slid between his thighs, and I moaned to find his testicles pulled tight against his shaft, his moment of perfect bliss so close -

"Sammy!" His breathless euphoria lanced through me, my own echoing rapture so immediate, intense, and unexpected that it momentarily blinded me.

His fingers curled into my hair, the tight grip sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine that grounded me, pulling me back to our reality, to Dean holding me tightly as he jerked helplessly against me, exploding into my throat, nearly convulsing with the force of it.

He slid down the wall, limbs shaking, and I went with him as far as I could before allowing him to pull from my mouth with a wet pop. I slid my arms around him, holding him as his body tensed, shuddering, breath locked in exquisite aftershocks of delectation; then fell limp with air panting in and out of his lungs, only to repeat the process seconds later.

Eventually his tremors ceased and he molded himself to me, skin cooling slowly, reminding me absurdly of the Impala's powerful engine ticking contentedly after a run down an open highway.

I held him, rocking us gently.

His respirations finally settled, breaths deep and even, and I suspected that he had fallen asleep. I burrowed my face into thick hair redolent with exertion, inhaling the scent of him, startling badly when his low chuckle vibrated through me.

"Dean?"

"Jesus, Sam." His exhale was a blissed-out hum. "That was incredible." He reached up to tug the blindfold down before nuzzling back into my neck. "If I hadn't been blind before, I sure would be now." He shivered, one stray aftershock sparking through him. "Damn, that was intense."

I smiled, fingertips turning lazy circles against the intoxicating curve of his hip just to feel the skin there pebble with goose-flesh at my touch. "Who did you think about?"

He pushed himself up with obvious difficulty.

His eyes were green fire, igniting my soul.

"You, Sammy. No one but you."

Author's Note

This is my first attempt at Wincest, and I gotta say, it hit me out of nowhere. I have ideas for a possible backstory, with kidnapping, psychological torture, and Dean whump, but I'm not guaranteeing a thing. This is my first AO3 post, too. If I do add chapters and it gets more graphic, I'll leave it all over there, rather than bringing it here. They have an "explicit" rating that I suspect will come in handy for me at some point. Hope you enjoyed it!