Sam closed his eyes for a moment, and briefly prayed that whatever deity was up there would take pity on him and have the ground swallow him. Unfortunately, whoever had heard wasn't feeling very charitable, and so Sam took a deep breath instead and turned back to his wide eyed, slack jawed students.

"Listen," he began evenly. "My car's right here, so you can just put all that stuff next to it, and I'll pack everything away."

When he got no more response than slow blinking, he made his voice firmer, "Go on now. I don't want you're parents worrying about where you are."

They quickly scurried away to his car and did as they were told, before slowly retreating, obviously intent on witnessing what would unfold between their conservative teacher and the town bad boy. Sam suppressed a groan and stalked towards Dean with all his stiff teacher bearing and good Southern breeding.

Dean watched him with a slowly spreading smirk and green eyes that twinkled with mischief and something else, something that Sam had seen when Dean had entered him with his long, hard—

"What are you doing here, Dean?" he demanded, angling his body so that the three teenagers couldn't see he and Dean very well.

Dean's gaze darted behind Sam and grinned, all white, even teeth and sexy crinkles at the sides of his large eyes.

"Look at that one," Dean grinned, motioning to Damon. "Didn't make them that hot when I was in school."

Sam ground his teeth before he took another deep breath, and said, "I asked you what you were doing here."

Dean laughed lightly when he saw Damon blush and run a hand through his hair, "What do you think he'd do if I made a pass at him?"

The skin around Sam's mouth and eyes became tight with tension, "I wouldn't do that, Dean. His father's extremely conservative, and wouldn't appreciate you getting involved with his son. Besides, I didn't know you were into cradle snatching."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Don't worry, Sammy. I was just having some fun. I wouldn't dare corrupt one of the fine young people of Sommersville."

Sam shook his head and scrubbed his face with his hand, "Dean, I have to get home. I don't really feel like having a conversation, humorous or otherwise, with you in the high school parking lot."

Dean slowly ran his forest green gaze over Sam, "Do you think we could go back to my place and talk?"

Sam felt too tired to argue, and supposed that he was already the centre of insatiable town gossip, so going home with Dean probably wouldn't do much more to his already somewhat tattered reputation.

"Fine," he eventually replied. "I'll go and put my things in my car and follow you."

Dean nodded, "I'll help you."

"Thanks."

They loaded everything into Sam's boot before they climbed into their separate cars. When he followed Dean out of the parking lot, he could see Damon, Hayley and Emily still standing there, watching.


Sam followed Dean into the flat in silence, and put his keys on the kitchen counter before he watched Dean remove his leather jacket. He couldn't help the pulse of arousal he felt when he took in the broad expanse of shoulder beneath Dean's tight, white t-shirt, and the way his jeans hugged his firm, round buttocks.

When Dean turned around, however, his expression was serious, and Sam could tell that despite his earlier teasing and testing in the parking lot, something was bothering him.

"Why did you give me an alibi for Jo's murder?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged, "You were with me that night. I couldn't not come forward and risk you being accused of her murder."

"I see," Dean replied, an edge of bitterness in his smooth voice.

Sam frowned, "Dean, what is this really about?"

Dean stepped closer so that he and Sam were only an arm's length apart, "I want to know how you could make love to me, and then leave without any kind of explanation or goodbye. I mean, you're obviously ashamed of fucking me, so why admit to everyone that that's the reason you know I couldn't have killed Jo."

Sam gasped as if Dean had just slapped him, and his voice was heated as he replied, "I'm not ashamed of you, Dean. What I am is ashamed of myself. I took advantage of you! You were drunk and grief stricken over your brother's death, and you admitted to me that you'd had a crush on me for over a decade! It went to my head, okay? I should never ever have let you have sex with me under those circumstances. I understand that you don't feel anything serious for me—"

Sam's sentence stuttered to a halt when Dean closed the gap between them and slid his hands up Sam's shirt and rested on his broad chest.

"You don't have to be ashamed of yourself, Sam."

"Dean—"

"No, Sam. Let me say this. I needed you when you came by after Adam's funeral. I wanted you so much that I couldn't help myself, I had to tell you everything."

"You-you remember what you said?" Sam asked in surprise.

Dean nodded, a small smile on his beautiful lips, "I remember everything, Sam, and believe me, I meant all of it. When I woke up and you weren't there, I didn't know what to do with myself. I figured that it was because you were ashamed of sleeping with me, but not because of the reasons you told me, but because you saw it as a one night stand, a mistake. Poor Pam, I think she could tell that something had happened even before everyone found out that we'd slept together."

"How did she know?"

"I was just about useless at work, which didn't matter a whole lot anyway, because hardly anyone actually ever wants me to serve them. I couldn't stop thinking about you, Sam, the way you look, the sounds you made, it drove me crazy. I swear I could still taste you. I had to confront you, Sam. I just…did it the wrong way, I guess."

Sam couldn't help but reach out and stroke Dean's smooth, freckled cheek with his knuckles, "I suppose we're a pair of idiots then, because I couldn't stop thinking about you either. I dreamt about you being inside of me, Dean, and dreamt…"

Sam blushed gently as he trailed off. "What did you dream about, baby?" Dean prompted.

"I dreamt about being inside of you, too," Sam admitted softly, his other hand sliding under Dean's t-shirt to feel warm, satiny skin.

Dean's pupils dilated and his breath caught at the thought of Sam's beautiful cock plunged into him, filling him up until he could feel him at the back of his throat.

"Yes, Sammy," Dean said, slightly breathless.

"Really, Dean? You'd do that for me?" Sam questioned, unable to hide his excitement and arousal.

"God, yes," Dean replied, tilting his head up and lightly biting Sam's earlobe. "I bet I'd come untouched, just from you splitting me open on that thick cock."

Sam's hand pressed harder into Dean's back as he replied, "We'd better get to the bedroom then, because I'm not staining the carpet again."

Dean chuckled, "That was a bit of a bitch to get out."

Sam pushed Dean so that he had to walk backwards to the bedroom, which wasn't an easy feat with Sam pulling his t-shirt off and opening Dean's jeans to reveal his bare state beneath them. By the time Dean fell back onto the bed, he was entirely naked while Sam was still fully dressed.

"So beautiful," Sam breathed, as he ran his hands over Dean's gorgeous pectorals and the ridges of his abdominal muscles.

He couldn't believe that all this perfectly pale, freckle and beauty spot sprinkled skin was his to touch and taste. He slowly stroked Dean's pert, pink nipples, making him gasp and arch into Sam's large, warm hands. He dipped his head and ran his tongue along Dean's golden-red treasure trail that led down to his large, thick cock, which was glossy and crimson at the tip with prominent blue and green veins beneath the fragile skin.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean whispered.

Sam trailed a finger from the spongy mushroom head to the pubic hair that Dean's cock and testicles were nestled in. His tongue slowly slid under the hard shaft and over Dean's velvety testicles, and down the sensitive perineum to the furled, dusky opening. Dean clutched abortively at the duvet as Sam gave the tight entrance a few broad licks, and massaged his firm, silky cheeks. Dean slid his foot down Sam's shirt covered back until he could slip his toe under the waist band of his pants. Sam moaned at the sensation of Dean's foot teasing the top of where his buttocks met, sending a shiver through Dean and making his opening tighten.

"Sammy," Dean whimpered. "Please take your clothes off, baby. I need you inside of me now. I want—oh Jesus—to ride that wonderful cock of yours."

Sam reluctantly pulled away from Dean's ass, his chin slick with spit as Dean's entrance winked at him slightly. He nearly ripped his shirt open in his haste, and shucked his pants and boxers off all at once before claiming Dean's mouth in a dominating kiss, which made the other man gasp into his mouth and clutch at his shoulders and neck. When he pulled away, Dean's eyes were half closed and glazed over with lust.

Dean eyes slowly traced the fully erect thickness of Sam's glorious cock, which was circumcised and almost purple at the dripping wet head. Dean's mouth watered at the thought of that beautifully curved and thickly veined cock plunging into him so deeply and stretching incredibly wide.

"Don't you ever dare hide that beautiful cock from me again, Sam," he warned huskily.

"Where's the lubricant?" he asked, nipping at Dean's already blood rich lower lip.

"Bedside drawer."

Sam found it almost blindly and drizzled the cool, clear liquid onto his fingers and Dean's dark pink entrance. Dean bent his leg and stretched it to the side as Sam hooked the other one over his shoulder and slid his finger almost all the way inside of him. Dean bit his lip and moaned deep in his throat as he began to move with Sam's questing finger. His body worked to accommodate Sam's other two long, thick fingers until he was desperately fucking him down onto them and begging Sam for his cock, which was even more stiff and flushed between his lithe legs.

When Sam's fingers finally slid out of him, Dean took the lubricant and applied a generous amount to Sam's gut-clenchingly huge cock, before he pushed the older man onto his back and straddled his thighs.

Dean's hand slid up and down Sam's glistening cock a few times before he sank down onto it, revelling in every broad, long inch that his walls suckled and his body stretched around. When he was flush with Sam's thighs, he laid his hands flat on Sam's hard stomach and began to fuck himself up and down until he established an almost frantic rhythm. Sam bent his legs and used his heals as leverage to thrust upwards into Dean's furnace hot body, watching his stomach bulge slightly from Sam's impressive girth.

Sam felt himself pulse inside of the clenching heat at Dean's expression. His eyes were tightly shut, eyebrows furrowed, his red lips glistening, which his even white teeth were biting into. Dean's mouth fell open and he gasped as Sam held onto his hips tighter and thrust up into him so hard that their flesh coming together was a series of continuously loud claps. His cries became more and more desperate, and his nails dug almost painfully into Sam's stomach, which only served to make him even more aroused.

Dean had never felt so full and so deliciously owned. Sam's cock felt so big and thick in this position, touching places inside of Dean that set him alight with sensation. His cock was throbbing and leaking a pool of thick pre-ejaculate onto Sam's taut stomach. He felt as if Sam thrust any deeper, he would feel as if it was driving into his throat and choking him. He could hear his own cries become louder and louder, emanating from his very core which was lit up with ecstasy, while Sam's rumbled out of his chest, possessive and rich.

When Sam made to stroke Dean's cock, he pushed Sam's hand away and shook his head.

"I was serious, Sammy," Dean moaned. "I want to come just from your cock."

"Oh fuck, Dean," Sam groaned, pumping his hips faster, and moving his fingers so that he could feel himself entering Dean's tight body.

"Oh Sammy, oh Sammy, oh Sammy," Dean shouted, as he slammed down again and ground Sam's cock into his prostate.

Sam's eyes rolled back in his head as Dean's flew open, blazing green, and he came all over Sam's rigid stomach, his body an exquisite arch as his nails dug into Sam's flesh hard enough to draw blood. Sam's fingers gripped his slim hips so hard that he could feel bruises blossoming under the silky skin, and his hot, thick release coated Dean's insides, causing Dean to come a second time, and hunch forward, panting for breath and wiping his sweat slick hair back from his brow flushed brow.

Sam lazily stroked Dean's thigh as he took in Dean's post bliss expression, his eyes a dark emerald and his lips slightly swollen and almost scarlet. Dean slowly slid off of him and laid down so that his head was resting just below Sam's chin.

"We should clean up," Sam murmured, smoothing Dean's hair down.

"Yeah," Dean replied, his eyes half closed and his lips moving against Sam's throat.

"I'll get a facecloth," Sam said, as he reluctantly eased Dean off of him and walked towards the bathroom.

Dean unabashedly watched his behind and broad shoulders flex and move as he walked, licking his lips at the knowledge that the sheen of sweat covering all that golden skin was because of him. He revelled in Sam's gentle attention as he wiped away at Dean's thighs and slightly puffy entrance. It had been so long since he'd been cared for and treated kindly, and he had to turn his head away for a moment at the memories of being in prison.

"Dean," Sam said gently. "What's the matter?"

Dean forced himself to meet Sam's gaze, "I was…remembering."

Sam looked concerned as he asked, "About…prison?"

Dean nodded mutely, hating the fact that he was obviously completely ruining their post coital warmth.

Sam swallowed hard and his voice was hardly above a whisper as he asked, "Were you…r—raped in prison, Dean?"

Dean was silent for a long moment before he replied, "Almost."

Sam's head snapped up, "Almost?"

Dean nodded again, "It was in the laundry room. Two guys, ugly fuckers, too, ganged up on me. I was on my knees and everything before I heard this voice behind my two would—be rapists. At first I thought it was a guard, but then I looked in between them when they turned around, and I saw another inmate standing there.

Dean felt petrified. Perhaps he'd had some hope of fighting off the two men in front of him, but there was no way that he could fight off three of them. He wanted to laugh and cry because under different circumstances, he would have found the third man extremely attractive, with his dark brown hair, and his stubbled jaw and the sexy, indolent air he wore with his crucifix tattoo on his arm, and his deceivingly languorous expression.

"What ya'll up to?" the third man asked in a calm, almost disinterested, voice.

One of the other men, the one with beetling brows and pockmarks, growled, "None of your fucking business, Max."

Max cocked an arched brow, "Well, Thomas, you wouldn't be planning on violating that poor boy, know would you?"

The second man bared his rotted teeth at Max, "I think Thomas just told you to fuck off, Max."

Max actually smiled, but it scared Dean, and he could see that despite their posturing, Thomas and Rotten Teeth were afraid, too.

"Now listen, you two," Max continued in a conversational tone. "You'd be get out of here and leave this nice boy alone, or I might just have to defend him."

Thomas stepped forward, as if he would strike Max, but Rotten Teeth obviously thought better of it, and held his partner back with a hand to his chest. They exchanged a look before Thomas looked at Dean, his eyes glittering with fury, and followed Rotten Teeth out of the laundry room.

Dean was too shaken to get up, his legs felt like strained jelly and his palms were slick and itchy against the cold, cracking linoleum. Max walked towards him, his slim hips loose, his entire posture relaxed despite what had just passed. He held out a large, long fingered hand which was sprinkled with dark hair over olive skin.

"What's your name?" he asked, once Dean was standing.

Dean wanted to take a step back from Max's palpable body heat and the smell of musk and spice. He felt as if he was being seduced and Max was barely trying.

"Dean," he replied, proud that his voice didn't waver, even if it was a bit breathy. "Winchester."

"I like that," Max smiled, sliding his hand up Dean's shirt, his hand warm and dry against the slightly rough material.

Somehow Dean became Max's cellmate after that, even though he knew he shouldn't really be surprised. Max seemed to have a lot of influence with his fellow prisoners and the guards, who even joked with him sometimes.

Dean finally got the courage to ask who Max was in the outside world. He knew that he wasn't insignificant like Dean, the son of a small town drunk, convicted teenage murderer of the preacher's daughter.

"I clean things up for men who are involved in a certain kind of business," Max replied easily, as he unbuttoned Dean's shirt.

Dean knew without being told what kind of men Max worked for, and what kind of business they were in, and it scared Dean to no end, but he also knew that Max was his protection, and he would rather let a handsome man fuck him and give him pleasure, than be raped and broken. He could become stronger under Max's wing, and he would because he had to if he wanted to survive.

When he was naked, he laid back on the bed and watched Max get undressed in the low light from the barred window and main part of the cellblock, revealing his scarred, leanly muscled body which was covered by dark hair that was greying in some areas. He buried his face in Max's neck when Max rode him hard and rough, his body sliding against the scratchy blanket, his skin slick with sweat and their combined juices. His orgasm ripped through him keenly, and he wished that it wasn't Max's groan of pleasure that he heard in his ear, but Mr. Singer's.

When Dean was finished talking, Sam leant forward and kissed his forehead before wiping away Dean's tears with his thumbs. Dean felt slightly embarrassed about crying, especially when he hadn't even realised that he had been.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to cry."

Sam looked at him for a long moment before he replied, "There's nothing to apologise for, or be ashamed of. Thank you for telling me that, Dean."

Dean couldn't help but smile at Sam as he pulled the older man into a kiss, and enthusiastically tasted his mouth once again.

"Stay with me tonight?" Dean whispered, pushing Sam's silky hair back from his forehead.

Sam nodded mutely as he climbed back into bed with Dean, and rested his head against the other man's chest so that he could listen to Dean's heartbeat as he fell asleep.