Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever own anything related to Supernatural. I do own my own characters and places though.

A/N: Beta'd by the ever wonderful Miss Tam! Comments and reviews are loved!

Sam dozed off and Dean decided they could hole up in their temporary home for a few hours. Although she'd called the police, he wasn't sure whether their father had listed their current address on the medical insurance, didn't think his father had updated it for a year at least. It probably wasn't a good idea for them to stay there for too much longer at any rate. Dean tried their father's number, but it just rang and rang. He eventually put the phone down, sighing as he did so. They'd stay there the night and in the morning, they'd leave. He'd try his father again before they left obviously.

Dean was willing to bet that their father hadn't finished the job he was working on, so either way, they'd head for Pastor Jim or Bobby's maybe. Bobby was farther, but Dean knew Pastor Jim was always taking in orphaned kids and sometimes there just wasn't room for the Winchester boys. He bit his lip in thought. Dad will know. God, he'd just better answer tomorrow. We really need to leave, just in case. I guess if push comes to shove we can stay in a hotel or something. If they don't look at my I.D. too carefully. We do have all that money that Sam tried to leave me. Maybe we could even stay somewhere halfway decent. If we leave the state, at least, maybe head for Reno. Fuck, we could visit the Grand Canyon maybe. Always wanted to go there.

Dean smiled at the thought and shook his head at himself. He dozed himself on the couch with the T.V. on, keeping himself wrapped bodily around Sam. As soon as the kid was coherent, they were going to have a very serious talk about hurting/trying to kill yourself and how that is never, ever the answer, no matter what was going on in life. Dean wasn't an admitted optimist, but he fervently believed that no matter how bad things got, if you just managed to stick it out a little longer, something would eventually turn up to make you happy you had. He just needed to convey that feeling to Sammy now.

As if he knew how Dean was feeling, Sam rolled over and blinked up at Dean blearily. He'd been face down on Dean's lap and was now gazing up at him with sleep-crusted doe eyes. Dean smiled down at him and felt his heart clench almost painfully with how much he loved the damn kid.

"De?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Not g'na leave?"

The drugs seemed to be wearing off a little bit; Dean could, for the most part, understand what Sam was saying and sentences seemed to be weaning their way back into his language. As for the content of what he was saying, well, clearly, Sammy still didn't know what was going on. Dean just smiled sadly down at him.

"No, Sam. Not going anywhere. Staying right here."

Sam smiled widely at him and Dean wanted to implode. Sam was quiet for a few minutes before speaking again. He was trying to collect himself so that his words wouldn't be slurred or confused or anything.

"When you were leaving, I promised that I would do anything. That I would be whatever you wanted to keep you."

Dean felt more guilt crash over him, if that was even possible at that point. His hands clenched unconsciously tighter around Sam and Sam just snuggled closer. Dean prayed that Sam was done talking, but he knew better than to expect it.

"I wanna be your slave Dean."

If Dean had been drinking something he would have spit it out. As it was, restraining himself from shoving Sam off of his lap, going to take a really cold shower, and coming in his pants, well, it was a close thing.

"What?"

"I like to be dominated, you know? I thought maybe, I could have a collar too, 'cept I'd have to keep it hidden or something cause I guess it isn't really something that we could tell anyone, but-"

Dean cut him off, heart pounding and cock throbbing. His voice was hoarse.

"Sammy, um, well, it's just that, ah..."

Actually, Dean had no way to explain to Sam that this was a terrible idea because his body was so in favor of it. He sat there for a few seconds, grasping for words to communicate what he knew what right and how this wasn't right, not in the slightest, but he couldn't seem to formulate words. Sam nodded with a sense of finality, like the topic had been brought up in a business meeting and was now fully discussed and closed. Dean gaped at him like a fish, feeling like he missed something. Sam plowed right through any other objections he might have been thinking with his next words.

"I know you like girls, you always have. And what I was trying to explain before was that, what I'm asking for here, it doesn't have to mean anything. Like, sure, okay, I don't really want to hear about it, or like see it-"

Dean was staring incredulously at Sam. Sam misinterpreted the look for flat out disagreement. He stuttered, backpedaling quickly.

"I m-m-mean, unless that's like a k-kink of yours, or something, or you want me to see, or if-f-f it's like punishment or something, I mean I want whatever you want."

Dean still didn't respond, trying to process what his brother seemed to be implying. Sam paled considerably.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, I mean I just wanted you to know. That I'm not that important, not more important than all the girls you want. Boys too, if you want. It's okay. Anything is okay. Really. You can make me watch, force me, anything."

Now Dean was confused. He was going over the words for a second time, trying to find meaning in the increasingly frantic and desperately paced words, laced with self-loathing. Sam just sped up.

"Anything, I promised, I don't break my promises, I'm sorry, I'm rambling, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry. Anything, really. I can, ya know, with them, if you wanted, like, I've heard you talk about a three way before, I don't know if it would really be the same thing, but I can tie myself up, like so I can be a girl too, I can be a girl for you whenever you want, or, I mean, if you wanted, I could be a girl for someone else too, if you, I don't know-"

Dean finally held up a hand to halt the flood of words tumbling from Sam's mouth. Sam immediately ceased sound with a tiny squeak and held his breath, flinching and with apologies written in his eyes every time he so much as twitched. Dean hated himself more in that moment than he ever had and probably ever would. He tried for gentle.

"Sam, you've got to listen carefully to me okay?"

Sam nodded feverishly. Dean sort of wanted to throw up. He took a deep breath.

"Okay, I'm going to address this in order, and what I think I understand of what you just said okay? And bear with me, it's going to take some time to get everything straightened out."

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean shook his head tiredly. Sam's mouth made an audible click as it snapped shut and his eyes widened, trying to say he was sorry while not talking like Dean had asked him. Dean fucking just told you to be quiet and you're already opening your mouth like the fucking idiot you are and Dean's paying attention to everything you say. God, he's really the best, he deserves so much better than anything I could ever give him. But maybe, when he gets married some day, his wife won't mind if he fucks me once in a while. I wouldn't live with them, oh no, nothing like that, but if they trusted me, well if she could put up with me. God knows why she would, maybe I could help babysit or something, no, I'd probably hurt their kids, bad idea Sam.

Dean saw a lot of emotions run through Sam's face and sort of wondered if he even wanted to know what he was thinking about. Shame coursed through him when he realized he didn't. He took another steadying breath and began.

"Okay, so. Yes, I like girls. I got that. I also like boys. Fine, I swing both ways. I don't discriminate when someone is pretty. But what you were mentioning there, no way. I don't do the whole cheating on people thing. I either don't have a relationship and just, you know, with certain people when I want to or when it's convenient, but if I have some kind of relationship with someone, I'm not the kind of guy who'd do that to someone."

The look Dean gave him was supposed to convey that no decent guy would ever do that, but all Sam saw was a rebuke for thinking so low of Dean's character. He made a small noise in the back of his throat and tried to slide to the ground, wanted to grovel on the floor, never thought of Dean like that, never ever would cheat on some innocent, some nice person. Dean was alarmed at the sudden behavior, so when Sam started babbling, he didn't stop him.

"Never never, didn't think, just that you'd be good, be so so good, to someone you cared about, someone who deserved good, someone kind and beautiful and wonderful and you'd treat them so well, I know it. But I'm not, I mean, I've done things, oh God, Dean, I've done things. It's different, you don't have to cause it's just different."

Dean wrapped a wriggling Sam back into his arms and just sort of rocked him for a little while, wondering how everything went so wrong so quickly? Maybe it wasn't so quickly. Maybe this has been going on for a long time; many times, in many cities.

"Bangkok. Sam is that just here, or have you done things like that in other places?"

Dean couldn't help the low growl in his voice and Sam shivered violently.

"Just here. Nowhere else."

Dean nodded and relaxed, pulling Sam closer. Sam cocked his head to the side and nuzzled into Dean's neck. He felt the full body shudder it got him and wondered if there was a better way to de-stress his brother.

He maneuvered himself so he was directly straddling Dean and pressed incredibly close. Dean didn't seem to notice the slight movements until Sam started rocking back and forth, ever so slightly. Dean grew hard under his thigh and his eyelashes fluttered before he cottoned on to what Sam was doing. He tried to shove Sam off, but Sam was like a limpet, clinging and darting his tongue out to stroke the side of Dean's neck. One hand's long fingers burrowed into Dean's shirt front and grabbed a firm hold while the other fingered at his opposite hip, exposed from leaning slightly forward on the couch. Dean continued to struggle, but Sam held on with a strength Dean hadn't quite expected, especially with the relaxant drugs.

"Sammy, you gotta stop."

Sam wouldn't answer, just hummed and pushed closer, rocking with renewed intensity. Dean wondered how Sam could be so attentive to every little thing seconds earlier and now that Dean was panicking and trying to stop this, Sam seemed lost in his own little world?

"No Sam."

"No, we can't."

"You're really not in your right mind here. You don't know what you're doing for Christ's sake!"

Suddenly, Dean stopped struggling and moving entirely. Sam seemed thrown off balance. He writhed along Dean's body, mouthed over his face. Dean held himself completely still, taking every ounce of his self-control. Sam finally pulled away, looking a combination of hurt and confused, completely desperate. Dean grabbed Sam's face and held it.

"Pay attention Sam!"

Sam flinched at the yell. Dean waited until his eyes were open again, never releasing his face. Sam's body eventually went slack on Dean's lap.

"Let's sleep, okay?"

Sam's brow furrowed.

"We'll get some sleep and see how you feel then, okay? The drugs you're on right now, they're making it hard for you to think and function and everything and really, you should be sleeping right now anyways because you're still hurt and I'm sure you're hurting your leg, squirming around the way you are right now, so please. Please Sammy. Can we go to sleep?"

Sam nodded reluctantly, after a moment, and they curled up in unison on the couch. Dean fished a blanket from behind the couch that had fallen onto the floor beforehand, and carefully covered both of them up. Sam watched him suspiciously, clearly afraid Dean was going to make a run for it, but Dean just ignored it and the pang he felt, and sidled himself in snugly behind Sam, making sure they were both wrapped up well.

Dean hadn't expected to sleep, but they both passed out for about six hours. The nurses had been wary of giving Sam very much morphine because he was so young and so incredibly small. Honestly, Sam had built up more of a tolerance than anyone would have anticipated because John was a huge fan of morphine for his boys when there was a serious injury and, understandably, those happened more often for the Winchesters than most children. Dean, knowing all of this, should have been more prepared.

Sam woke up first. The previous day returned to him in sleepy bits and scattered pieces, but he remembered the important things. Namely, that he needed to do something right-the-fuck-now to convince Dean that he could be just as sexually pleasing as those strangers Dean picked up in every new town. He slid down Dean's body, pleased when he noticed that Dean was already half hard. Sensibly, he knew it was sleep, but Sam told himself that it was because Dean was sleeping with me.

Sam scrunched the dress up and slipped off the underwear carefully, trying not to wake Dean before he wanted to. He chucked them off of the bed and basically latched his mouth on to the front of Dean's crotch. Dean had taken off his belt before sleeping, and Sam undid the button with his teeth, cautiously sliding down the zipper, inch by inch. By the time Dean finally started to come around, Sam had his face wedged into the opening of the jeans, licking and drooling at Dean, who was more than fully hard by that time, and quickly soaking through the thin cotton.

"Oh..."

Dean was thrusting, reaching down and running his fingers through the soft hair on the head of whomever was down there. He was a gentleman and was only thrusting slightly, more rocking than anything, but then he felt himself pulled out gently and opened his eyes, wanting to get more of his bearings, wondering idly if he'd accidentally slept over at someone's house last night? Sam took that moment to gaze up at Dean with wide eyes as he held Dean, throbbing, and licked around the head, digging his tongue momentarily into the slit. Dean groaned, the hand grabbing Sam's head became tighter, trying to wrench him off. Sam just leaned forward, taking most of Dean into his mouth and Dean's body betrayed him.

He'd never stopped rocking, he noticed muzzily, and he couldn't bring himself to stop now that Sam was doing that - what the fuck is he even doing right now? - that thing with his tongue and, oh fuck that feels so good, and hold on, what's he doing now? His fingers?

Sam was being very sloppy on purpose, continuing to drool all over himself. He'd begun taking his fingers and rubbing them around his lips. He couldn't quite fit them into his mouth, any more than the slightest tip anyways, but he was collecting a lot of spit on them. Dean watched, completely enraptured, as Sam then reached his hand behind him. Sam was belly down on his legs and his dress was already a little rucked up. Dean could see the beginnings of the globes of his ass, like a girl in a really short skirt, and he didn't want to know why that thought had him thrusting up even more.

Dean's mouth went dry as Sam's fingers slid along the crease, gently pulling the dress up a little more until his entire ass was exposed. Dean's other hand slid down until he could cup it, squeezing a little, and Sam rewarded him with an extra hard suckle around the head. Dean moaned, brain officially shutting off. Sam brought the slicked up fingers to tangle with Dean's for a second, leading him down a little lower and letting him feel, eyes widening even more, as Sam slipped a finger inside of himself.

Sam froze, waiting for horrid memories and intense pain, but apparently if it was his own fingers intruding, he didn't seem to have as much of a problem with it. Well of course not, dumbass. They're your fingers! He wiggled the one around, trying to slick up himself as much as he could. Upon withdrawing, he went back to soaking his fingers again, figuring that more wetness was always better than less, and the second time, was able to fit two fingers inside of himself. The burn started then, weird and even the slight pain had him making little sounds at the back of his throat. He continued to stretch himself though, knowing he couldn't stop now.

Dean felt the small sounds and it took him a few seconds to figure out why Sam was making them. He rubbed gently over Sam's back, soothing over soft skin down over his ass and continuing down his thighs until Dean couldn't physically reach any farther, and then back up again. It seemed to help. Sam felt himself relax further against Dean's thighs, rubbing unconsciously against the bed. Dean groaned at the sight before him. He groaned again as Sam pulled out of himself and pulled off of Dean at the same moment, sliding up his body to mouth at his exposed neck and then kissing him.

Dean was beyond resisting at that point and kissed Sam back, deepening the kiss and licking inside of Sam's mouth, tasting himself on Sam's tongue. He carefully flipped them over, slipping between Sam's legs and feeling Sam wrap them around his middle, pushing up against him. Dean felt the precome smear across the strip of his stomach from where his shirt was riding up and he bore down against Sam beneath him.

Dean felt himself becoming more and more desperate. He pulled back for a second and when Sam mouthed at the air and sat up, trying to follow him, Dean let out a low growl. Sam shivered violently and fell back against the bed, a small gasp coming out involuntarily. Dean yanked the dress off of Sam and Sam winced, hoping like hell the dress hadn't ripped, but when Dean descended upon his collarbone and sensitive neck area, he couldn't bring himself to care much. He was panting, writhing beneath Dean, and he opened his mouth, begging as best he could.

"Oh God, Dean, Dean, please, please..."

Dean lifted his mouth briefly from where he was working on an intense hickey on Sam's neck. He smirked down at Sam. It'll be right there, in everyone's face, let everyone know he's owned, 's got someone taking care of him, 's got someone in charge of him, MINE. Sam was rubbing himself around, tossing his head back and forth.

"Whaddya need Sammy?"

"You."

Dean leaned down, close to Sam's ear, licking around the shell of it, and was rewarded with a quiet whimper.

"Already got me Sammy."

Sam moaned and humped up into Dean, feeling the beginnings of chafing from rubbing so vigorously against denim and still being unable to care. Dean whipped off his shirt and went back to his work on Sam's neck.

"Need...oh. Oh. Need you, please, in me, ah, ah, ah, in me, God, Dean!"

Sam's pleading words had taken a little bit to register, to get through his lust addled brain, and when they had, Dean swore and bit down, a little harder than he might have meant to, on the already purpling mark.

"Please, want it to be you, want to think of you, don't want to think about them anymore. Need you, please, oh God, Dean, please, do anything, I promise, I'll do anything..."

With some difficulty, Dean forced himself to meet Sam's eyes. There were hot tears streaming down his face and he was shaking. All arguments and reasons why this would be a tremendously bad idea immediately flew from his head. He curled himself tighter around Sam and whispered soothing noises into his skin as he kissed each and every tear away.

"Okay Sammy, okay. Everything is going to be fine. No tears, Sammy, no tears. I'm right here, not going anywhere, not leaving, okay?"

Sam gulped and nodded, blinking rapidly. Dean took a moment to mouth at the droplets still clinging to his eyelashes before kissing him passionately, tenderly sucking on his tongue, and stroking both hands over Sam's sides, fingers rubbing over every rib, smoothing circles over his nipples, making Sam arch up into Dean and cry out softly, Dean swallowing every delicious noise he could elicit. He murmured into Sam's lips.

"Gotcha Sammy, I've got ya. God so beautiful, beg me so prettily, looking at me like that, Jesus Christ."

Ever so slowly, Dean turned his little brother's pliant body over, continuing to smooth his hands down his sides and pressing his lips to every new inch exposed. He kept up a steady stream of murmurings, reassuring Sammy over and over again. Sam appreciated the noises more than he could understand consciously. Dean kissed down his spine, wet, messy open-mouthed kisses where Sam could feel the trail of saliva stretching down his skin. Dean laid similar kisses on each mound of Sam's ass and whispered, almost too quietly for Sam to hear.

"I'll make it so good Sammy. Make sure, even later, it'll be a good memory."

Sam opened his mouth to say something, thank him maybe, ask him why there was ever a doubt in Dean's mind that this wouldn't be a good memory, wonder if maybe Dean thought he'd regret this later in life, but all that came out was a choked moan. Something hot and wet was right there mouthing over his entrance and oh God, Dean, oh, oh. He felt his brother's tongue, thick and dripping with saliva, kissing and lapping, pulling at the edges, and was Dean drooling over him?

"God Sammy, you taste so fucking good."

He began thrusting his tongue into Sam and Sam felt wetness dripping out of his hole, matching the droplets leaking from his tip, all over the bedspread. Dean grabbed Sam's hand and dragged it back, licking all over Sam's fingers and using them to stretch Sam even wider, along with his tongue. Sam was moaning and humping down, flipping his head and mushing his face into the pillows in failed attempts to muffle the wanton sounds coming out of his mouth. He could feel Dean smiling against him and he suddenly stiffened, coming everywhere.

Dean had pulled back, ready for a break down or rejection, had steeled himself for whichever would be the case, and then gazed in unabashed wonder as his baby brother lost it all over the bed, completely untouched. Dean had to grab himself to keep from following over the edge at the sight Sam made, just as suddenly relaxed and loose-limbed. Sam reached a little farther and grabbed Dean's hand and wiped both of their fingers in his come, using it to further lube himself.

He then pushed carefully onto his elbows and knees, keeping his head bent and breathing hard, still coming down a little bit. He pulled Dean forward until he could reach him completely, jutting out rock hard and proud, weeping at the tip, and Sam swallowed as he stroked a few times, spreading his own come all over. Dean had to shut his eyes at the sight and Jesus Christ, don't even think about it, fuck, Sam's come slicking me up, getting me all ready to fuck him, God, fuck him right through the mattress, no, wait, hold on, deep breaths, c'mon, gotta be careful, gotta be gentle, gentle, slow.

Sam guided him to the puckered entrance when it seemed like Dean wasn't moving. For a brief second, Sam didn't move, afraid this was Dean pausing to get his attention for the second time. Want him, so bad, so so bad, in me, please, Dean, please, but Jesus, please just-

"Sammy."

Dean breathed out the name like a prayer and pushed forward, just a tiny bit. Two more slight pushes and Sam knew he couldn't do it. He was gritting his teeth so hard that he was positive all the enamel would be worn away; clenching his fists to leave nearly bleeding half moon crescents on his palms. It took Dean 0.5 seconds longer than it should have to realize something was wrong. Sam was shaking like a leaf.

Dean pulled out, cursing a blue streak and flipped Sam over roughly, grabbing at his face, desperate not to see tears there, to see revulsion and hatred. He saw instead a little confusion and a lot of fear. Dean's eyebrows pulled together and he opened his mouth to ask, what did I do? what can I do? Let me make it better, please, I promised this would be good, don't be scared Sammy, I'd never hurt you, oh God, did I hurt you?, but Sam spoke first.

"Need it like this."

Dean blinked once, twice. Sam pulled Dean down and wriggled a hand between them to grasp where Dean was still achingly hard and bring it back. Dean tried to rear back, tried to get up because if Sam was having a problem and what if he's just doing this for me and doesn't really want this himself and I already just hurt him like two seconds ago and I can't do this, ah ah-

Sam was guiding him in and Dean was helpless to resist. Sam's head was thrown back, eyes slammed shut and was puffing out short breaths. Dean kissed his throat repeatedly.

"Sammy. Sammy. Eyes on me. C'mon. Eyes open Sammy."

Sam couldn't help but obey and somehow, as long as he could see who was on top of him, taking him, possessing him, owning him, it was okay. As long as he could see Dean. Dean who kept cooing and gentling his hands over Sam. Dean who rubbed his nipples, "So sensitive Sammy, God, love it, love you like this," until Sam was arching back and crying out. Dean who rocked into Sam, grazing his prostate occasionally, and held their hands together over Sam's head, palm to palm, fingers interlaced. Dean who went slowly for as long as he possibly could and who made sure that Sam felt no pain.

He'd never loved his brother so much in his life.

Sam watched as Dean finally lost that careful control and began shoving and grinding his hips in wild abandon. Sam could feel that Dean was close, could feel the full body shudders, felt the quaking through himself, and reached down to bring himself off too. Dean batted his hand away and glared at him for a moment before rejoining their hands and tugging on them slightly, extending Sam's arms to their limit behind his head. His breath caught in his throat as an animalistic gleam shown brightly in Dean's eyes and Sam saw flashes of what could be and some images of what might happen someday. When he could handle it of course. There was never any doubt that the Take Care of Sammy instinct overrode the needs and fetishes of Dean's dick any day.

Sam shifted on the bed slightly and Dean dragged one of his hands down Sam's lithe body, holding his hips canted up and with fingers digging marks. The thought that they'd bruise, that Sam would wear Dean's marks, for days even, had Sam coming so fast he was gasping and dizzy with the pleasure. Dean followed him not too long after, kissing him through the aftershocks and then pounding in, harder than he'd dared previously, with Sam all loose and happy, until he was falling over the edge too. Sam felt the liquid inside of him, marking his insides to match his outsides and he curled up tightly into Dean's embrace.

Dean pulled out and turned them on their sides, facing each other, and tucked the disarranged pillows around them, not bothering to pull up the covers. It was gross and sticky and sometime in the near future they'd have to get up and shower, but Sam had been fantasizing for a while about shower sex and Dean had never been one to deny his little brother anything before, so why start then? It did seem a little hazardous though; maybe they ought to put down a towel or look for a bath mat or something because who wants to have to explain getting a concussion from incestuous showering?

But, they didn't have to get up just yet.