Dean could not look at Sam as he spoke to him like this. He ducked his head, staring at a bite mark that he had left next to his right nipple. The fingers running lazy circles on his hip and thigh were light but Dean could feel them like he was being branded, the delicate touch pulling all his attention, all his being to where he thought those fingers might go next. He knew that whatever they did, they would somehow reach his soul. Sam's voice, so low and sex roughened, was half way there already.

A kiss to his temple, moist breath by his ear as Sam continued to tell him that he was okay, that he was beautiful and that he was going to treat him right. He wanted to tell him he knew, that he believed and trusted him but he could get nothing past his lips other than quick shallow panting breaths as Sam's hand led his fingertips up his thigh, over his buttock then onto the base of his spine.

Slowly rocking his body against Dean's, Sam pushed with the leg he had between his brother's. He had a thought to just roll him backwards, pin him to the bed and push his way inside. It was a thought that he had had many a time over the years but he knew he was not going to do that, that he should not do that. Dean may say he trusted him but he could tell the man was not comfortable with this and was far from ready. Besides, just taking him that way would be betraying that trust, so hard won over the years.

Dean was not quite shaking but he was tense and obviously nervous. 'Sammie', still there inside of Sam, possibly forever, recognised this. He had plenty of experience with men who wanted, but did not know exactly what that want or desire was or how to go about it. He had had a few 'virgins' before but had never really cared about them. Only bothering enough to ensure value for money and the probability of a return client.

Even Dean, when he had first 'hired' him, first taken him into that hotel room but now, that same man, so still except for his heart beating so hard that Sam was convinced that he could hear it, he loved.

He ran his hand up his brother's spine into the short blond strands at his nape and felt the shiver pass through the body so intimately close to his own. The narrow bed being next to the wall helped. Dean was trapped with no where to go other than where Sam was taking him.

He smiled and let his nose rub against Dean's hair then began laying soft kisses to his temple, his cheek, as he moved to nuzzle at the man's ear then neck. It worked as, finally, Dean raised his head and Sam drew back to look at him, to smile and then kiss those open lips so lightly, so softly, until the older man kissed him back.

And it was like a fire searing through him. It had always had an immediate effect on Sam, that first touch, taste of his brother's full lips. Even that first time in the car so long ago when Dean was nothing more than a trick. It caused an instant reaction on his heart, body, mind and prick. When Dean would do that, when he would part his lips and his tongue would caress along Sam's, be it top or bottom, it would ignite a passion in the younger man like no other ever had.

That first touch of tongues was always a slight shock, almost as if a small arc of electricity passed between them. Dean moaned slightly as he submitted to the pressure of Sam's mouth, as his tongue forced it's way into Dean's mouth and he pushed his body harder against the older man's as that 'electricity' drove Sam on.

Finding himself wedged between the wall and the suddenly powerfully rocking body almost completely covering him, Dean felt the first inkling of real panic. But he could do this, he had to. Sammy wanted it, had apparently for a long time, and he was just so, not so much relieved, but so happy that the youth had taken him back. Sam had taken him back and back into his bed. After the way that he had treated him, Dean knew that he had no right to deny him this.

But if he was truly honest with himself, the feelings of being trapped, of being almost ravished, were making him feel things he never had before. He felt a desire to give in and let Sam do whatever he would to him. To let him have total control in reality, both physically and mentally, as he had always, if unwitting, had control over his emotions no matter how well Dean hid it.

What panicked Dean now was the realisation that he was getting turned on yet again. Not that surprising as Sam could do things with his mouth that would have Dean whimpering in seconds if he was not careful but even more so, he was becoming almost excited at the thought of having no control, at having no say in what Sam would do to him. And he kind of wanted it now, wanted it hard and fast and to be all consuming and that scared him.

Sam broke away from him, rolling back and breathing hard, staring into his eyes, so close. Dean did not want to see the concern there, did not want to see the question. "Sammy, please don't.." and he grabbed at him, trying to pull the longer frame back and on top of himself.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he had to stop himself from saying something that he would regret, from swearing at Dean, asking him just how the fuck was he supposed to stop now. But then Dean started to push up against him. Rocking his body in a steady but frenzied rhythm matched by the clutching hand on his right shoulder. "Sammy," he breathed out, his voice so low and rough that Sam felt his prick twitch.

"What? What, Dean? Tell me. What do you want?"

The eyes dropped again but not before Sam could see the almost begging in them. He must be mistaken. Dean never begged for anything. Dean told and commanded. The head followed, dipping down to his chest but then was forced under Sam's chin as Dean pulled at him, pushed against him, a noise, unmistakably pleading, leaving the man's throat.

Sam ran soothing fingers over Dean's back and shoulders. "I've got you. I won't hurt you. I promised. I promise you."

Dean was almost hyperventilating. He did not want gentle reassurances. He wanted passion, he wanted to feel. To feel Sam all over him, inside of him. But he had to rein himself in. It was not up to him. Not this time. This was Sammy's turn.

He concentrated on those softly caressing fingers and promised himself that he would have a serious talking to himself about his reactions, his 'impulses', when he was not as hard as a fucking piece of granite, nevermind wood. He wanted, but he was frightened of that want and knew himself enough to realise that if he actually got what he wanted right now, he would no doubt run from it afterwards. Run straight into a bottle.

Sam felt the slow relax of his brother and closed his eyes thinking, 'thank fuck for that'. He had known that this was not going to be straight forward or easy. But then, nothing worth the pursuing ever is. But he had thought that the reticent Dean was going to baulk altogether. He had waited so long for this. He had dreamt, fantasised for years about Dean, willing and pliant, moulding to his touch, to his prick pushing inside of him.

He swallowed. If he was not careful he was going to cum again before he ever got near his goal and at the rate they had been going, it would take him far too long to be able to 'get it up' again.

Enough, and he leant forwards, kissing Dean's lips slowly, catching up that succulent swollen bottom lip, sucking on it then dragging it out until he let it go with a low, almost obscene, popping noise. He smiled as Dean came with him, his eyes fixed to the slight curve of a smile on Sam's lips. "Turn over for me," soft, light, breathed onto those beautiful, begging lips.

Dean looked up into Sam's eyes. They were dark, lustful and somehow commanding. He was nervous, shit, he was fucking petrified, but he pushed himself backwards as Sam moved away from him. He looked to Sam again who nodded encouragingly and, taking a breath, rolled onto his stomach, clutching at a pillow, bringing it to his chest.

The bed was wrecked and as he stood bending over the rigid figure, Sam tried to straighten the bottom sheet as he gently pulled the pillow from beneath Dean who gave it up reluctantly. "Lie flat," he told him, smoothing a hand over his shoulders and upper back as Dean hesitantly turned his face to the side, cheek to the creased sheet and placed his arms either side. His hands immediately twinned into the loose bottom sheet, his breathing rapid.

Sam stood back for a moment just staring down at the vision before him. He knew his brother was beautiful, had from the moment that he had first laid eyes on him, but now, stretched out, his body taut, the muscles defined as his shoulders flexed showing his nervousness, Sam could not help but to lick his lips at the beauty. The beauty of the figure laid out, waiting for him.

He had to grab at his prick as it swelled to almost bursting from the sight. He held the root hard within his fist. It hurt, but he could not let himself cum now, not yet. He breathed deeply, stilling the impulse to shoot his broiling seed all over this glowing body, reclined, almost in offering to him, almost in supplication. But not yet. Dean was not ready, not relaxed enough to be compliant. He still had to lead him there.

Half will power, half pressure, he got his prick to calm enough for him to let go and he swiftly climbed onto the bed, straddling the tense figure. He was careful to keep his abundantly weeping prick from touching Dean, not wanting to scare the man, not wanting to excite himself further.

Dean wanted to close his eyes but they stayed wide, staring at the beat up and scarred desk and chair legs at the other side of the smallish room. If he closed his eyes and tried to let go, to just let this happen, he knew he would freak. The closer he could feel the moment coming, the more he wanted to run.

A few moments ago he had wanted Sam to consume him, to smother him, force his way inside and take. He wished he would. Then he would not have the time to seriously contemplate telling him no, to get away from him and never try to fuck him again. He thought his heart was going to burst with the speed of the blood rushing around his ears, the rampant beating within his chest.

The bed dipped as it took Sam's weight, making another of those desperate creaking sounds. As he felt the warmth of the other's body cover him without touching, he was, for a moment, amazed that Sam must be burning up as much as he himself was. He could feel the sweat pooling in the centre of his back, in that dip just above his ass. He opened his legs out wider, thinking that he should, thinking that he should damn well stop thinking about it and just let Sam do this and then it would be over. He would know if he would ever allow the other to do this to him again. Would know if he would want him too.

Delicate fingers touched the nape of his neck and he nearly jumped from the bed, his whole body flinching. He heard Sam's voice, low and soothing, "It's okay, I've got you." Lips replaced the fingers as they began to move down his spine. Soft kisses to the base of his skull, across his shoulders and then following the path of those burning finger tips.

He forced himself to relax as those digits found and played in the moisture collected on the base of his spine. As the tip of Sam's tongue dipped in to taste, then those fantastically talented lips sucked and the tongue slavering his skin, he knew it would be a long time before he could truly relax. His prick, which had shied from the thought of this fucking, began to fill and swell under him, slightly uncomfortably, bordering on painful, trapped under him between the relatively hard mattress and against his belly.

Sam loved the taste of Dean's skin. He always had. A mixture of the man's unique musk, leather and salt sweat. He let his mouth have its way and tasted, sucked and licked all around the base of Dean's spine as his hands ran smoothing circles and caresses over his sides, hips and thighs.

Pulling his hands down to cover those hips, he let his thumbs press into the underside of the so tight buttocks, his mouth moving to cover the hidden coccyx, his bottom lip trespassing on the very top of the divide of those buttocks.

Dean let out a half startled moan and his left leg moved, twisting, opening more to the side and Sam took the opportunity to move, to kneel between the legs, gently encouraging Dean to open them more and let him in.

Complying to the coxing, insistent hands on his inner thighs, Dean shifted, catching up the stolen pillow as it still rested by the bed. Pulling it to him, he lifted up, dragging it under him as he moved into an almost recovery position but still with this arms up by his head. He collapsed back down, the pillow clutched between his hands under his shoulders, his face pushing in from above. He held onto the scantly stuffed cushion as he would a life preserver if lost at sea. But then that was how he felt now, he felt like he was drowning, helpless under Sam, as wave after wave of trepidation coursed through his body.

Sam pulled back and stared down captivated. He bit at his lips, a fleeting thought running through his mind that he had never found an asshole particularly attractive before but, just like the rest of the man, Sam found even this part of Dean beautiful. With the repositioning, Dean had opened the way for him and he had to put a hard hand to the base of his prick once more.

He moved back, moving his groin away then, kneeling forwards, he delicately, as if it would burn him, placed one hand on each of those glorious mounds. He let the weight of his palms lay heavier then had to 'play', had to smooth and move over the pale flesh, had to nudge and separate, grasp and then kneed the cheeks that fit just so perfectly within his palms that he was convinced, yet again, that they were made for each other. He had known, from the moment that Dean had first taken him, that he belonged to the other but now he was convinced that Dean was truly made for him too.

Dean found he could not help but move his hips under the massaging pressure and he finally closed his eyes as he actually let himself enjoy the manipulation. His prick, no longer trapped, pushed against the mattress with the movement, the sheet harsh against the so recently well used and sensitive skin. He breathed deeply against the pillow, grabbing it tighter but still refused to utter the groans he could feel in his throat.

Sam's face dipped closer as he watched his fingers, as they, as if by a will separate from his, began to pull the buttocks further apart and the tips of his right index and middle finger brushed over the tightly puckered hole. Dean let out a harsh startled grunt and did not appear to be relaxing at all but now Sam did not care. He let his fingers rub over again and again, gently, but then the tip of his middle finger circled the rim and then pressed down, slowly but with intent.

Dean was panting. His hips were squirming, trying to get away from the so big seeming object attempting to invade him. His prick leaked fresh pre-cum and his body shook. Such an alien feeling, nothing at all like when his own fingers brushed the place during a shower. His butt cheeks stretched wide, the fingertip was removed and his hips rose up wanting it. He half sobbed into the pillow at the realisation.

The skin on Dean's buttocks was rosily pink as the blood rushed back when Sam finally tired of kneeing the pliant flesh. He had to put his lips to it, his mouth open on one perfect mound, the skin heated under his hands, warm on his lips. He kissed, he mauled as the hips moved under him, as Dean moved under him, pushing his groin against the bed, bringing a far from innocent smile to Sam's lips.

He let his tongue travel up and down that neglected hollow at the base of his brother's spine and, watching him carefully, prised apart those buttocks once more. Travelling so slowly, almost trembling against the sweat tainted skin, the tip of Sam's tongue moved down to lick across Dean's asshole.

"Fucking shit!" as Dean's eyes sprang open, his hips pushing down to the bed then back up against that hot slick muscle passing over his most intimate of places.

Sam's self satisfied smile was lost against the shuddering butt, his eyes sparkling as he treated Dean to a new sensation, a never before felt rimming. His hands held his buttocks down tightly as he refused to lose his advantage, to lose the chance of giving Dean this intimate pleasure.

Dean could not believe the sensation and thought that he would cum just from the touch of Sam's tongue, stroking swirling around his entrance. But then Sam was pushing, pushing his hips down and pushing his tongue into him! He forced his face into the pillow once more, letting it swallow the noises he could not contain, the swearing.

He discovered then what it meant to be a pillow biter. He had heard the phrase, thought of it as a derogatory term but he could do nothing else. It was either bite at the pillow until his jaw felt as if it would shatter with the strength or scream, scream so long and loud he would never be able to look at himself in the mirror again.

He was aware that Sam knew things he did not. He knew that the youth had far more, far too much, experience with sex than he did, but for him to do something like this, to have kept it secret from him for so long? What else did he know? What else should he have asked him?

His thoughts fled as he felt that tongue push and burst through his tight ring of muscle, tighter still as he closed up, tensed up at the intrusion, yelling at his body to stop. To stop fighting this and give in to the pleasure he was certain was waiting for him. If, that is, he could just let go of all those stupid macho ideas about what being a man was that he still harboured deep inside.

The fact that Sammy let him fuck into him, opened up and let Dean have his way with his body, had never made him any less in his eyes. Yes, he still thought of him as a boy but he had always thought of him as such, a boy, a male, a man now. But the thought of allowing someone to do those things to him, had, if he was honest with himself, always smacked of being effeminate, of not being the man he had been brought up and trained to be.

But right now, all his preconceived and taught thoughts on just what a man is and what he could and could not do, could go take a flying fuck. He shuddered as Sam removed his tongue and thrust it back inside of him, then he did it again and again until Dean's hips were bucking and it was a struggle for the younger man to hold him down.

Sam loved the reaction he was causing. Dean was losing control under his hands, under the assault of his tongue. He had seldom done this before, had had it done to him to little effect but he had known he would be able to make Dean almost insensate with the obviously new experience.

He had never enjoyed this before, had found it an obnoxious chore. He immediately pulled his mind back from that Lawyer and his fists and his monthly visits to town and concentrated solely on Dean. He could not believe himself how much he was getting from this. He could feel his prick leaving slick trails across his belly and longed to have it encased. But he was enjoying the action of his tongue pushing into Dean's asshole. The feel of the man quivering under him, the knowledge that he had Dean so under his control.

Dean was becoming desperate. He was going to cum, way before Sam managed to get anything thicker than his tongue into him. He lifted his head from the pillow, gasping as he moved his left hand, pushing it under himself and grabbed hold of his cock. He wanted to cum now. He had wanted to wait until his lover was inside him. "Sammy…" he confessed strangled, "I can't… I can't wait. I'm gonna.."

"Not yet, not yet, Baby." There was no way Sam was ready for Dean to lose it so soon, he was not even half way there yet. He used his own hand to pull the very resistant hand from beneath Dean, "Trust me," he commanded as his mouth went back to his blissful torture of Dean's asshole. He sucked, he slavered, he mauled, just as he had to the plump buttock, he did to the tender sensitive ring of muscle.

Dean could have wept, whimpered, he so needed to cum, his prick rubbing against the seemingly rough sheet, the feelings at his asshole so unexpected, so fantastic. He pushed his face into the abused pillow as he pushed his ass against Sam.

Sam could have continued, would love to continue to wring those desperate little whimpers out of his brother but the knew he was running out of time on this go around. He shifted slightly, his knees shuffling closer to be caught between the spread thighs. It raised his angle of 'attack' and he entered his index finger into play besides his tongue, swiftly and expertly until it was impaled up to his second knuckle before Dean was even aware of the intrusion.

His finger slick with his spit, he worked it back and forth along with his tongue and soon had two fingers working, massaging, opening Dean up to him. His brother was talking, or rather uttering words, sounds with no vowels. Letting his tongue run up along Dean's spine, Sam moved over him, his fingers continuing to move within the virgin tight channel.

Dean's hand began to move again, heading down his side. He had to touch his prick, had to give it some relief but then Sam was moving over him and he could feel breath on the side of his face and his hand was grasped and returned to beside his head. He strained his eyes and neck as he turned to look at the dark shadowed face so close to his.

Clasping Dean's fingers within his own, Sam placed a kiss to the man's cheek, moving closer and closer to his mouth as the man strained to reach him from his prone position. He did not cease with his movement in Dean's ass, pushing into him as Dean pushed back against him, the new angle forcing the asshole to be stretched upwards. His fingers buried deep, he took the side of his lover's mouth in a kiss.

It was awkward and Dean could not help but think where that mouth had just been but he thought it a minor matter to the one in hand. Or rather Sam's hand, his fingers moving, pulling, pushing, twisting in his ass.

He wanted them gone. He wanted more but would not ask, could hardly admit it to himself nevermind someone else, even Sammy. He was so close. His prick pushed against the mattress with renewed effort in counterpoint to his ass pushing back against those torturing fingers. It was almost natural now, no thought, just want and desire and sensation and pain and compulsion.

Dean pulled his face away and Sam knew he had him now, as close as he would ever get to actually asking him for this. It was submission as he dropped his head onto the pillow, not looking at him but groaning out his name. That was what it was for Dean, submission. He wished it was not, wished it were different but he knew his brother well enough that to Dean, allowing him to fuck him was a submission.

He would see it no other way. Just as he had always thought of Sam 'letting' him fuck him all these years, never truly believing that he longed for it and always had. Maybe tomorrow things would be different. Maybe tomorrow Dean would understand just how much, and why, Sam loved Dean doing this to him.

He placed a last kiss to just behind Dean's ear, then carefully pulling his hand away from that fantastic ass, he carefully climbed onto Dean's back, lowering himself down to lay all along the other man's length, his pre-cum slicked prick settling between those globes.

Dean let out a noise close to a whimper and Sam smiled, reaching over and retrieving the near empty bottle of lube from the floor where his brother had dropped it. He rocked against the heat of Dean's buttocks, kissing the nape of his neck before raising slightly and dealing swiftly with the business of applying the lube.

Hands clenching the pillow so tightly he thought it would rip, would tear asunder under his hands, Dean groaned out as he felt the first tentative touch of bluntness at his asshole. He tried to swallow, his breaths harsh and fast. He could do this, he could, he had to. Had to for Sammy, for all he had allowed him, all he had taken from him. Because Sammy wanted this. Because Sammy loved him. And because he loved Sam.

And then Dean experienced for the first time what he had done to Sammy so many times. His whole body moved forwards up the bed as his head raised and he tried to move away from the intrusion in his ass. One of Sam's large hands grasped at his hip, the other at his shoulder, his thumb stroking Dean's skin, even now trying to make him feel at ease, to relax.

He knew Sam's prick. He had held it, stroked it, sucked it so many times but it had never felt this hard, this big before. Slowly, by stages, the younger man pushed into him, a feeling he would never have been able to imagine. As Sam paused, Dean found himself breathless, waiting for more. He wanted more. He felt so weakened. So defenceless and overwhelmed. Pushing up onto his forearms, still twisting the pillow, he tried to look behind him, look at Sam. He wanted to see his face, wanted confirmation that the other was enjoying this, even though they had only just begun.

Sam had his eyes closed tightly, his teeth gritted as he did everything he could not to cum there and then. Dean was so tight yet giving around him as his ass slowly relaxed and let him in that little bit further all the time until he was sliding in up to more than half his length. The muscles, tightening against him before the relax, were so powerful on his ultra sensitised prick.

Gasping, feeling the inevitable tide of his orgasm recede enough to continue, he pushed forwards again, his eyes opening to look up, straight into the green gaze of his brother as he twisted to look back at him. He smiled, hoping it did not look like the grimace it felt. "Fuck, Dean? You are…. so…. fucking….. beautiful."

Dean's prick had not been too happy at the latest sensations coursing through his body but seeing the look of near bliss, combined with an immense strain on the lad's face, made it take interest again. Sammy was the beautiful one. He was the one that could make his prick spring to life with just one look, one smooth action of his fingers pushing that hair from his eyes and now, seeing the extent of the man's feelings at what he was currently doing, the sight went straight to Dean's prick.

Fuck the weird alien feeling in his ass, fuck the thoughts of hating Sam for doing this to him, he wanted his beautiful lover to enjoy himself, to use him any way he wanted to reach those heights just as he had always been there for Dean.

"I love you, Sammy. I always have." Damn the look on the boy's face as he smiled so brilliantly and, smiling back, Dean let himself relax down to the bed, finally relaxing in earnest, giving up any last vestiges of resistance and animosity.

This had taken so long, but finally Sam felt Dean accept him as he pushed forwards once more, as far as he could, Dean's asshole gripping the base of his prick so tightly. Again he held his breath not wanting to cum but he was so close, it just felt so fucking amazing.

Dean was convinced he could feel Sam's heart against his back, a wild staccato along with the breaths heated on the back of his head. Then Sam began to withdraw from him and Dean could not contain the grunt at the tantalising friction. Sam pushed back in faster than before and he bit his lip, clutching the pillow and pulling it further under his chest as he tried to rise up against Sam's weight on top of him.

Instinctively taking the hint, not consciously reacting to it, Sam shifted his weight onto his forearms either side of Dean's torso. He dropped his forehead to the nape of Dean's neck as the new position gave him extra leverage and he began a slow glide back and forth within Dean's damn tight, magnificent asshole.

He had imagined this so many times but, whereas usually expectation leads to disappointment, the feel of the silken, moistened channel, sliding against his burning prick was beyond anything his imagination could have conceived. Slightly quicker now as he heard grunts and almost whining coming from his brother. He never wanted this feeling to end.

Dean's whole body jerked as Sam's prick pushed in, stretching the front of his channel. There, it did it again, sent a wild flaming feeling through his entire body making him grunt out in shock. Fuck! he was going to cum, cum so soon. "Sorry…" through gritted teeth as he tried to hold on for his lover's sake. "Sammy, I'm sorry…I can't….I gotta…I'm gonna cum."

He knew what this would do to Sam. Had learnt a long time ago that to get the best orgasm himself was to make his partner cum first. Not so much from being a respectful or sensitive lover, but to get that feeling of the clenching around the prick, was the most amazing thing ever. It had taken Sam so long to get to this, due to his own reticence and he did not want it to end for him so soon, but fuck! as Sam hit that place again.

Sam dropped back down onto his shuddering, straining brother. He could tell he was struggling not to shoot and he loved him for it but wanted to scream, 'no, don't you fucking dare, not yet, you bastard'. His hands moved to cover Dean's, his face pressed against Dean's neck, breathing by his ear. Covering him, enfolding him and pushed in as far as the angle would let him.

Dean felt trapped, dominated and it was wonderful. The way he had no control, Sammy being the one controlling his body, pinning him down, pushing into him and he knew right then, as that fucking glorious prick skimmed over that place inside him once again, that once this was over, he was never going to be able to let Sam do this to him again. He could not afford it.

"Then do it. Cum for me, Dean," breathed into his ear, the breath hot and panting as Sam pushed into him harder than before. Dean let out a strangled, almost yell as Sam drew back causing a warm friction then slammed his hips forwards. His fingers, entwined with the other's clenched so tightly he thought he might break at least one of Sam's. His prick trapped beneath the combined weight of them both, spasmed almost painfully as he came yet again.

Sam held still, his face one of pain as he held on not wanting to lose it but the feeling of that already tight channel clenching, clutching at him was almost unbearable, the sensation so intense, so fucking unbelievable. His wordless yell was explosive in Dean's ear who was practically a molten liquid mass beneath him. He had to move, nothing in the universe would be able to prevent him from moving against, through that continuing grip around him.

Once, twice, sliding back and snapping forwards, the resistance even greater as the muscles tightened. Sam withdrew almost leaving Dean then, forcing his forehead against the nape of his lover's neck, he thrust his hips forwards as hard as he could and came, shuddering violently, the sound of Dean's almost pained grunt making his prick pulse again, shooting deep into him.

The noise Dean let out was the bastard born of a laugh and a scream. Nothing, nothing had ever felt so good as feeling the wet heat of Sam's seed filling him. He did not know where the clenching of his own channel ended in comparison to the pulsing throb of Sam's prick. It was all one, they were one and he briefly wondered, before his brain melted, if it was like this for Sam, if Sammy felt the same sensations of completeness when he came inside of him. He hoped so. This feeling was so amazing, he prayed that his beautiful boy, his lover, knew this phenomenon.

Sam collapsed down onto him, forcing him in turn to fall, to relax against the bed, the pillow now a hindrance as he just wanted to lay and savour this feeling, Sam's heart thumping against his back, his breath warm and ragged against the side of his face. He was heavy, damn he was heavy, trapping him there, holding him down, his prick still a 'semi' hard presence in his ass, claiming him, anchoring him. It was an incredible feeling but he knew it had ended far too soon for the other.

Sam lay on Dean as his body moulded beneath him, finally truly relaxing in the after glow. He rubbed his cheek against his brother's, knowing he should move and let the man breath but he did not ever want to move again. His legs were leaden and he just wanted to fall asleep right there, warm and comfortable, cushioned and safe, but his prick could not get enough of this. It could not get enough of the sensation of being enfolded within Dean, of himself being intimately enveloped by his truly amazing brother.

"Sam? Ease up just a bit." Dean wanted rid of this pillow now, he wanted to lay flat and, wallow.

Making nothing but an agonised noise in denial, Sam 'snuggled' closer, causing Dean to swear. He was suddenly taken by surprise at how good that felt. Just that small movement was incredible in his tender and aching asshole. "Sammy, please.."

"Yes, of course," and Sam reluctantly pushed himself up and began to pull his so sensitised prick out of that glorious heat.

Shit! "Don't fuckin move!"

"What?" startled. What had he done wrong? Had he hurt Dean? He stilled, straining on trembling arms not to move.

Dean gritted his teeth as he forced his head off the pillow trying to look over his shoulder. He had not meant to frighten Sam. "Please," his voice urgent, "don't. Don't leave…..don't …" but he could not say anymore. Could not beg. He struggled, pulling the pillow from under him then collapsed, flopping back down. "Stay," spoken so quietly to be almost a whisper.

Sam thought that he must have misheard but then Dean's left hand reached back and grasped his side, pulling at him. It kind of hurt, but felt wonderful at the same time, as he gingerly lowered himself back down, slowly pushing his prick, blossoming into yet another hard-on, back into that all consuming silken enclosure. He was unsure who made the loudest whimper. Again he shifted, letting his weight lie as he placed his hands to surround Dean's shoulders, his face by the golden freckled one.

"Are you okay?"

Dean did not want to answer. Yes, he was okay. He was fucking fantastic.

No, he was not. He was in a world of swirling denial. He loved this feeling, could never have thought it possible but he hated it too. Hated that it felt so good, because, as he had already decided, this would be the one and only time.

He did not want to disappoint Sammy. He wanted him to feel that he was indeed equal in this relationship, hopeful that they would still have one when the time came for him to leave again. But it was a feeling so alien to him. To be so out of control, to be at the mercy of his sensations every time that Sam made the slightest move. Every breath he could feel. Every twitch and movement. He imagined he could even feel Sam's pulse beating in his ass.

Dean somehow managed to stretch out beneath Sam, his whole body flat against the mattress, only his face turned to the left so that he could breathe. As his legs opened even more, Sam took the opportunity to run his hands along Dean's arms to his wrists and surrounded them gently with his large hands. He heard the slight moan in time to the shiver than ran through his brother's body. His prick swelled at that sound to fill up the hot channel and it would have taken a much stronger man than him not to respond.

Slowly he began to move within Dean, very shallow thrusts, each a world of sensitized sensation, Dean making tiny begging noises that just made him move faster, further.

Dean wanted to scream, wanted to stop this, once more to tell him no. He wanted to tell Sammy to move faster, harder, harsher. He bit at his lips and just let the youth do as he will, as he was. His own prick told him he was being foolish to want an end to this. Sam was pinning him down again, even the hands encircling his wrists were tightening and relaxing in time to his increasingly deep, quicker thrusts.

It was that trapped feeling that he had wanted earlier, that all consuming being 'taken' feeling. He found himself pushing back up against the heavy body or rather trying to. He was pinned and all he could do was move his arse against the prick sliding repeatedly into him. The friction so intense, that almost burn each time Sam's length moved to pull from him.

Each time Sam pushed into the now totally accepting moist heat of his brother, he felt that pressure coming back at him as Dean tried to move. He should pull up slightly, let the man have more space but right now he did not want to. It was not that he did not care about Dean or Dean's wishes and wants, it was just that this whole experience was so great to him, he could not stop now.

If Dean was to scream and to beg him to stop, to slow or to do anything other than what he was now doing, he would not be able to. He would not be able to do anything but to continue to thrust into the wonder that was surrounding his prick. The feel of the soft walls expanding, stretching as the hood of his prick pushed against them. The slight ripples and bumps that made up the walls of Dean's channel. All felt amazing and somehow huge against the ultra sensitivity of his so recently and well used hood.

Sam began to move faster, the groans and almost bestial grunts that forced themselves past his lips were crude and harsh and in direct proportion to the base instincts that had taken him over. Dean, Dean, Dean, was all that was running through his mind. No other thought, no other sense than Dean.

Dean knew that he was close to losing it. Not 'it', the orgasm 'it', but it, his sense, his mind, his entire being. He was becoming nothing but a receptacle for all that was Sam. Sammy, the only thing in his universe. The thing that made him alive, that made him… be. There was nothing but the force of the being that had him possessed, that had him anchored into this world, into this reality by the sheer force of his thrusting body and his will.

Then suddenly it was all over. Sam made a noise that at any other time would have had Dean running to kill whatever it was that was hurting him so much. All at once there was that stilling, that momentary freezing as he felt the other hold then shudder as he felt that liquid heat fill him once again.

Sam was slowly rocking into Dean almost like an after thought, as if he could just not stop something that had become so important, so second nature to him. He could no longer feel his limbs, they were so leaden, so used just like his body. He stilled, all of his weight on Dean as his prick still gave an occasional twitch and judder.

As he slowly became aware of something other than what his own body was experiencing, he finally pulled his painful prick from that chasm, feeling Dean jerk and give out an agonised moan.

Pain, release and ecstasy as Dean's prick gave vent to the build up of overwhelming sensation as he felt his core almost pulled out through his ass as Sam left him. As his selfishly abused, well used, prick gave one more magnificent spasm, Dean sobbed and for all intents and purposes, passed out. Used and truly fucked.

=0=

The bed collapsed on the Sunday morning. They just took the remaining legs off.

==000==

TBC...