A/N: This is just plotless porn. I felt like I owed it to you guys after posting those first two sugary, sweet pages (that I've since tried to tart up a little bit). I'll work on some actual plot for next time? Or not. Let me know or I'll end up slipping into corny domesticity.

Dean watched Sam as he rested against his chest, not really watching the movie. Sam's hair had fallen forward, obscuring his profile. Dean allows his mind to wander, thinking how easy it would be to just let himself reach up, comb it back. He'd probably stop halfway through the motion just to savor feel of the hair.

He imagined that Sam would turn to face him...

...Sam was startled when Dean touched his hair. He turned, half expecting that it was a spider, or least accidental, but when he saw that Dean was watching him closely, his heart jumped.

"Sorry, Sam." The quiet was awkwardly electric.

"That's OK, Dean. It's nice." The brothers smiled at one another.

"Can I do it again, Sammy?"

Sam looked away and nodded. Dean reached up nervously and sunk one hand into those silky, caramel waves and ran his fingers through. A soft noise started from Sam's throat. It wasn't really a groan or a purr, but a good and happy noise.

Dean shifted on the couch so that he could use both hands. He drove his fingers down deeply to rub and gently scratch Sam's scalp. The sound coming from Sam deepened into a near moan. At the next pass, Dean let his fingers rake down Sam's neck, stopping just at the edge of Sam's collar. This time, the noise sounded very much like, "Deeean."

"Should I stop?"

"No, that's really good."

Dean held Sam's head with one hand buried in his hair, while he circled the shell of Sam's ear with the other. The hand continued down the front of Sam's neck, inside his shirt, splaying fingers over the warm skin of his chest. He was close enough now that he had to fight the urge to smell Sammy; he wanted his face pressed down into those buttery-soft waves. "What about now, Baby Boy?"

Sam sucked in air though his teeth; a slow and thoughtful move that betrayed a measure of his arousal.

"Tell me to stop, Sam."

Dean took his time removing his hand from Sam's hair and dragging his fingertips along Sam's neck, raising goosebumps along the way. He circled Sam's neck in slow motion and reached for the buttons of Sam's shirt. They both held their breath and wondered how far this was going to go. He fingered the first button and began to unbutton it. "Sam?"

Then he felt Sam shift against him - warm and heavy in the center of his chest, nestling down into the warm hollow between his legs. Sam rested his hand on Dean's strong thigh and said, "Do you need any help with those?" Dean smiled and began working faster.

They peeled Sam out of his shirt, he turned and slid up Dean's body. "Can I kiss you, Dean?" Dean stared dumbly, from one of Sam's eyes to the other, searching for doubt or deception. Not finding either he fell upward slowly, toward Sam, caught in his gravity and with a strangled whimper of his own. Dean's hot and needy tongue dove deeply into the eager and waiting mouth of his little brother. So close, fighting for each gasping breath. Dean's shirt, just an unwanted obstacle. Sam's frustrated fingers trying to touch each inch of Dean's exposed skin at the same time. The sensation of floating, so strong, that when they stood to remove more clothing, they felt unusually heavy and unsteady - like climbing from the water. Dean kicked out of his jeans and Sam held his hand, pulling him toward the bed.

Sam wrapped himself around his brother and swallowed Dean's nervous smile with another dizzying kiss.

"Sam, I want you to take me."

"Are you sure, Dean?"

"I want to feel you."

He stretched out on the bed and Sam draped himself gently - so carefully above him. Kissing his temples, biting his lips, running his mouth along Dean's collarbone and gently thumbing his frightened nipples with a smile. Sam worked his way down Dean's body - tasting, touching and appreciating the remarkable beauty, so unlike his own. Ethereal. At the waistband of Dean's briefs he looked up at him and smiled wickedly before running his tongue right up the center of the warm fabric - an almost painful tease for the magnificent erection barely trapped inside. His fingers dipped in under the waistband while Dean flung his arm up over his eyes, trying very hard to be still.

Dean felt his underwear sliding down his legs and off, finally off. Sam hissed appreciatively and Dean tried to hide his grin. Sam lifted Dean's knees and sat between them. His large, soft hands caressed Dean's aching and glistening member. He felt Sam's wet, feathery kisses and then Dean's cock was pulled inside Sam's deep, satin mouth. "No, Sammy. I'm too, this is, so much - I can't. Please, not until you're in me."

He could feel Sam chuckle around him and the wave of arousal sent a few warm drops of wetness to Sammy's tongue. He pulled off with a wink and a long final lick, "Yummy."

Sitting between the arches of Dean's legs, Sam began to stroke and tease the skin behind Dean's balls. Then the hands were gone. With his eyes covered, the squeeze-bottle sound came as a little bit of a shock, but then Sam's hands were back - warm and very slickly wet. Those hands slid and twisted up the length of his cock before heading down to tease open Dean's tight knot, hidden in the dark. The first finger slipped in easily and Dean groaned - his erection straining against the limits of his own skin. Sam ran his tongue in a long and winding path up the underside of Dean's member while pressing in a second finger alongside the first. "Are you alright, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy. It's so good."
"Still want this?"
"Hell yes!"

Sam slid the fingers deeper and began to rub the slickness along his own length.

"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Do it now."
"I think I need to stretch you more. There's no way I'm going to fit."

"No, I want to feel it - I want you to push me open, Sammy."

Dean could almost hear Sam's mind fighting the effect of those words, the lustful surge that threatened to finish him, but he could feel Sam's hot, slippery head, butting up against his tight, slick hole. Sam bit back a growl as he slowly increased the pressure. Dean began to widen slowly. The stretching burn was so wonderful that he had an impatient urge to force Sam in. Sam's hands slid under Dean's hips and lifted him half onto his lap. Sam's legs cradled his weight. The pressure increased. When Dean imagined he was about to be torn in half, he felt the large, hot head of his little brother tuck in under the tight wall of skin. Dean laughed with relief and Sam took a sharp breath, his voice gravelly when he whispered, "God, Dean, you're SO tight."

Dean is on his elbows, panting and with a strained expression, "Does it hurt?"

"It's amazing. You're amazing. Am I hurting you, Dean?"

"Oh yeah, but it's so good. Thank you, Sammy. Keep going."

Sam continued his slow intrusion while pulling Dean's body ever closer with his legs. When there was no space between them; when Dean held every inch that Sam had to give, he looked up at him and said, "I love you, Sammy."

Sam answered, "Me too, Dean. I love you so much."

"Why didn't we do this years ago?"

"Shut up and drill me, you sexy bitch," he winked up playfully at his brother.

"Hey!" Sam laughed, "I'm kind of in the middle of loving you right now. If you want to fight, you'll have to wait." Sam slid Dean back a little and then pulled him up tight against his body. Dean moaned, open-mouthed at the absolute fullness.

Sam drove into him for a few strokes before pulling him up higher into his lap. He wrapped Dean's legs around his waist while Dean snaked his fingers back into Sam's hair. From this position, he could fill his hands with Dean's ass, lifting and rocking, slamming into the safe shelter of his body. They stopped just long enough for another deep kiss. Being cuddle-fucked was definitely something worth repeating, but Dean was a bad passenger - he wanted to drive. He pushed Sam back against the bed. Dean knelt over him, careful to angle his pelvis, and slid down into the saddle and rode Sam.

Sam started to work Dean's cock as Dean drove himself down over and over onto Sam's length, impaling himself hungrily.

Dean's pace was starting to become erratic and his muscles strained to continue. Sam's fingers slid up and over the sensitive skin of his head. It was that last, fiery touch that ignited the chain-reaction inside him. The space behind his eyes lit up. Lightning ran along his spine and all the way down to paralyze his toes into a tight curl. Dean almost yelped as he sat down roughly on Sam and shot thick, hot ribbons of seed against Sam's chest and fingers. "Sam-my." Dean's orgasm squeezed Sam until he couldn't hold back any longer. He thrust up, shamelessly, into Dean's welcoming and overheated ass, as deeply as he could reach. He threw his head back as a long, low, rattling groan escaped his throat.
And then, Dean's little brother drained every last drop of pent-up longing into his big brother.

But...

They were both still on the couch.

On the screen, Wendy was sloshing brazenly around the restaurant in the red-sequinned dress. "It's almost over." Dean's pants were damp and uncomfortable.

He savored the weight and heat of Sam against his shoulder.

He'd seen this movie so many times that it was just background noise. For years he's known the lines and when to laugh. Movie night with some vintage raunchiness has become an acceptable excuse for the boys to cuddle. Sam's face was still vacant, lost in thought. Dean didn't know where Sam goes when he slipped away like this but he used the opportunity to scoot a little deeper into the cushions. The move tipped Sam back against Dean a little bit further and caused his forearm to slide into the nook where Dean's hip and thigh join. Dean winced in an inward jolt of pleasure. His wilting, but still half-erect cock jumped with a pang of longing. If Sam had noticed, he'd assume it had something to do with the naughty coeds fighting city hall.

Whatever this is, this thing he has for Sam - it isn't real. It can't be real. And as long as he doesn't look at it too closely, it never has to be anything other than his secret.

Maybe it's difficult to get off in the shower without remembering this. Sam, just like this. The way Sam's hair curls around his ear, the sweet, warm smell of him, picturing Sam wrapped in a towel, imagining what Sam'd look like on his knees - on his back, on his stomach, oiled up. He's built a perverse mental highlight reel, Ruby and the others before her, riding Sam as his large hands grip their hips and pull them down around him. It's a cocktail of equal parts jealousy and arousal. In order to get through movie-night, he needed to forget about Sam and actually watch the end of it, before Sam becomes too alert.

He tried not to glance, longingly, in the direction of the bed.

He needs a shower tonight.

Sam is definitely going to tease him about being turned on by the same old movie.