Still working on What It Takes, slow going at the moment to make it good and then I typed up this because I liked the idea. Updating it NOT on a holiday.

So, had to up the rating on this. It was bound to happen eventually. It's nothing too terribly graphic but well, stuff happens.

I do not own nor am I affiliated with Supernatural, WB, CW, Kripke Enterprises, actors, or other affiliates there of. No profit is being made from this.

Sam is freaking loud

It's not something that Dean ever thought he'd have such intimate knowledge of, not something he actually minds, either. To tell the truth, Dean has always appreciated the more vocal of bed partners. Of course, there is a fine line between genuinely loud and ludicrous. Dean's not stupid, just because he's a guy doesn't mean he doesn't know the difference between a fake orgasm and a real one.

With Sam though . . . he's just so . . . loud.

It was surprising is all.

When they first had to start having sex, one of those screw or die sort of situations, Sam was quiet. Not silent, mind you, but not very loud at all. It was all panting and whimpering and low moans and whispers.

It was incredibly and unexpectedly hot.

Unexpectedly because it was his friggin' brother.

Dean had trouble coming to terms with the whole bottoming issue. He was the eldest, so he was supposed to be the one in charge and he was supposed to be the dominate partner in any relationship. Having to be equal as hunting partners with Sam did not mean having to be equal in bed. If they had to do this thing, they were going to do it his way because . . . well, because Dean was a man for God's sake.

Okay, that wasn't fair. Sam was a man too. Even though he was all sensitive and liked to talk about feelings, and did that puppy dog thing with his eyes, and had stupidly long hair (that Dean secretly loved and would never admit).

That was part of the problem too. Sam was a man, a freakishly tall man. While Dean had become quite adept at getting as much as Sam's perfectly - proportionate - to - his - height - dick down his throat, the thought of it going anywhere else was a bit intimidating.

It took a really long time for Dean to agree to even give bottoming a try. A really, really long time, a lot of promises to stop if he said so, and lots and lots of lube.

Oh, and lots of fellatio during the initial stretching, naturally.

Once they were actually doing it, Dean thought it wasn't so bad after all. It was rather nice as a matter of fact.

Then Sam hit his prostate.

Holy.

Fucking.

Hell.

Dean just started babbling at that point, fuck, fucking, fuck, harder, faster, son of a fucking bitch, oh fuck, yesyesyesyes.

In retrospect it was really pretty embarrassing.

Eventually though, he learned that, there were certain things Sam would never mock him about, like something that was liable to make Dean uncomfortable. Like how Dean found out he really, really liked taking it in the ass.

Or that apparently Dean could be rather noisy as was proven a few times when staying at a crummy motel by the pounding on the walls. That was easy enough to ignore unless some idiot decided to start throwing the word "faggot" around, the results of which always ended rather badly for said idiot.

The thing was, Dean had never been particularly vocal during sex himself. Years of having to keep quiet when living with Sam were ingrained in him. So the loving being on the receiving end of things was about as surprising as the fact that he couldn't control the volume of his voice when taking it.

It caused him to wonder though, if he was doing something wrong with Sam. After all, if it felt even half as good when Dean hit Sam's prostate (which he did hit it as was indicated by Sam's breathy whisper of "there, there, there") then it was perplexing that Sam still reminded so quiet. Dean couldn't contain the euphoric words pouring from his mouth yet Sam would stay hushed, biting his lip so hard he was likely to draw blood. Dean eventually assumed that Sam was just more reserved, which made sense to him, Sam being his bookish little brother, and that was that.

Then they moved into this house. This house in a quiet suburban neighborhood with nice thick, insulated walls and neighbors that didn't practically live on top of them.

It took a few weeks before Sam became comfortable with the idea that they actually had some real privacy from the world for a change. At least that's what Dean assumed because it took that long for Sam's usual quiet panting to do a complete 180.

Suddenly, Sam sounded like a freakin' freight train. All loud moaning and completely filthy encouragement spilling from his lips and very nearly screaming in ecstasy as he came. If Dean hadn't been so lost it the heat that was his brother, he might have muttered "Cristo".

Once Dean came back down to earth he asked Sam what the hell had happened. Sam had blushed and dodged the question for a while but eventually, knowing that Dean would pester him until he gave it, Sam explained himself.

"It's just that," Sam bit his lower lip, in concentration. "Well, before, when we started doing this, we were always in hotels. I just, I didn't want other people to listen to us or really, to me."

"You were embarrassed?" Dean had questioned.

Sam shrugged, "That might have been a part of it but it was more than that. It was like, what we were doing was private. It was something that was just ours. You're the only one that I've ever been with like this and I didn't want to share that and if I knew other people were listening to me, it just felt like, I dunno, like it didn't belong just to us anymore. Guess it doesn't really make sense, does it?"

Dean just kissed him because he understood Sam. They were brothers and siblings often think alike so Dean understood how this was just for them, no one else was privy to it.

Dean liked it that way too.

He liked that Sam was loud, it was quite the ego booster.

And if Dean ever missed those delicious sounding whimpers . . .

Well, he knew other ways to draw those out of Sam.

But that's a different story altogether.