Disclaimer: I don't own Sam or Dean (dammit!) Mr. Kripke, can they come play?
A/N: Sorry this is on the short side. Work has been hectic. I will post another chapter for this one and another for 'Cherry Pie' this weekend. Originally this story was going to be a oneshot, but a few people said they would like to read more, so here we go...If you have a special request for a scene, let me know. I'm willing to try anything once (and so are Dean and Sam, so it seems...). I'll do my best to make it as descriptive as possible without being overly graphic, but I can't promise anything. Sometimes, I get too into the story! ;p Ok, let's get to the story...let me know what you think. -Kat
Sam stepped out of the shower and grabbed one of the thin hotel towels to dry off. It was rough and scratched his skin, but it did the job. It did nothing to dry his mop of hair. He quickly ran his fingers through it and cursed when he realized he had left an important piece of clothing in his bag. Unlike his brother, going commando wasn't his idea of a great time… He tied the towel around his hips, brushed his teeth then stepped out of the bathroom. His half naked form was met by sparkling green eyes…
Dean was startled by the sound of the bathroom door opening. He glanced up and felt a heat wash over him. His brother stepped out, slightly moistened skin freshly glowing from the shower. He savored the image: damp hair curling slightly, broad, muscular shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, well-defined arms lead to a contoured chest, abs chiseled from marble quivered slightly at the change in temperature, a light dusting of hair led down past the towel…
"De…are you okay, man?" Sammy questioned. "You look flushed. Are you feeling alright?"
Quickly blinking his eyes, as if to wake himself, Dean stared up at his little brother. "Um…yeah. I'm fine. Just need to wake up." He rose to his feet gingerly, the pressure in his boxer briefs almost unbearable. He darted past Sam and into the bathroom before another word could be said.
Upon closing the door, he turned and glared at himself in the mirror. 'What the fuck is wrong with you? That's your brother!!' he chided himself. His annoyance growing when he removed his underwear revealing a fully erect, painfully hard, penis. Turning the shower on, he stepped in.
The water was soothing as it ran over his tense muscles. He wet his hair, grabbed a washcloth, and began to wash. The shampoo smelled like flowers: Sam's girly shit. He washed his face and felt a few days worth of stubble. Running the soapy cloth over his muscles, he winced as he got to his chest. His nipples were sore, bruised, as if they had been bitten. He continued cleansing, migrating further south. ..
The roughness of the cloth against the sensitive skin on the head of his member was exhilarating. Despite the feelings of guilt at getting a hard-on from looking at his brother, Dean knew if he didn't have some release soon, it would be too painful to drive.
He wrapped the cloth snuggly around himself. The dull pain caused by the tightness was stimulating. The blood pooled, engorging the nerves of his organ, sensitizing every cell. A thrilling jolt wracked his body as he stroked his hand slowly up his shaft. Reaching the tip, he thumbed the slit, gasping at the surge of pleasure. His pace quickened and he was soon panting. The waves of orgasm would rise only to be dampened with his tightening of the cloth. He rode the wave up and back down several times before the intensity was overwhelming. He allowed himself release with a low moan, "Sammy…"
He fought his shaking legs as he completed his shower, carefully washing away the evidence of his bizarre fixation.