WAHHH! My third section is up at last and has a 'both at the same time' thing going on with the brother's heads...
I'm sorry it's taken so long but im hoping you like it... as you can see I just couldn't stop writing!
WARNING: This chapter is explicit - infact more than I intended it to be so WATCH OUT :D
Also, to anyone who cares - there will be one last chapter that is a kind of epilogue about the next morning x
Sanctuary (Thanks to necro omen13 for that x)
I miss you.
Gentle lips ghosted across Dean's sending shivers running down his back. He blinked hard, his eyelashes wet with tears and a hand reached up and cupped his face; tracing his jaw line with one rough thumb.
I miss you.
Dark hazel eyes stared into his, glistening wetly in the moonlight, the gaze burning with sadness and torment. Sam's mouth trembled on his and Dean instinctively deepened the kiss, pulling his warm body closer, anything to stop him looking like that.
I miss y–
Fuck. This was Sam.
Dean jumped back, pulling his arms away; his senses flooding back and realisation hitting them both.
Sam's eyes widened, jerking his hand away from Dean's face; when had kissing his brother ever seemed like the right thing to do? He opened his mouth but his breath caught in his throat – frozen in shock, waiting for Dean to rip him apart. So what if he'd kissed back? The look of surprise on his face made Sam sure it had been a mistake, hell, it was a surprise for him too – the urge to kiss Dean had been so sudden and strong, so unexpected.
He stared at Dean, begging him to do something, his stillness unbearable. How many more seconds were there to go before his frenzied anger, the punching and disgust? How many minutes before he left, revolted and cursing to high heaven? Sam's chest tightened painfully, eyes burning; Dean was going to leave him again, and it was his fault – like last time too. His jaw clenched, it was so wrong but had felt so right and he'd fucked up completely.
Dean's gut wrenched as he stared up at Sam, his eyes sparkling wetly and his angst so bluntly displayed on his face. He wanted to do something, but his head was reeling, unable to comprehend what had happened; everything had been so painful and then Sam had said he loved him – but differently, as something more than a brother...
"Dean..." Sam at last managed to choke out, trailing off as his voice cracked.
"It's fine," he tried to reassure him, but with little conviction: he was just too damn freaked; the next thing he knew, his little brother had kissed him and he'd kissed back. He looked away from Sam's sad, pained eyes; the scariest part was it had felt perfect; he'd felt safe in his brother's embrace and against his skin – it was so familiar and comforting it made his insides ache; he could hide from hell in Sam's arms.
Sam turned away, unable to bear the tension any longer or look at Dean's pained expression; "I'm sorry," he mumbled dazedly as he started to walk away into the night.
Fear bloomed in Dean's stomach, Sam wasn't leaving; he couldn't just–
Without thinking, Dean grabbed his brother's arm and yanked him back round, holding his tense body close and pressing his mouth hard against Sam's. He was unyielding for just a moment before relaxing into Dean; their teardrop moistened lips melting into each other's and exchanging a heated, hesitant kiss.
Sam's dejection dispelled instantly, needing escape from his endless tribulation and yearning to drown in Dean's embrace. Lips meeting again, his older brother's firm grip released from his arms, one hand gradually sliding under his t-shirt making him shiver and the other cupping his face, Dean's fingers running along his jaw line with a surprising tenderness. Sam responded automatically, hooking one finger into the loop of his brother's jeans and drawing him closer, craving his proximity.
Dean reluctantly pulled his head away; drinking in every minute detail of Sammy's face as he withdrew slowly; the shining skin of small, faint scars; the slight shadow of stubble and his piercing hazel gaze, wild and fevered, blinking back moonlight.
"I said," Dean whispered hoarsely, "it's fine." He stroked the fading blemish of a tear track on his brother's cheek with his thumb affectionately, the skin soft and reddened.
Sam turned into Dean's hand, kissing it tenderly and making him grin, a crooked smirk just teasing at the edges of his mouth.
Sam beamed back; he hadn't seen his brother smile like that for a long time; this was the Dean he was scared he'd lost; the Dean he loved but didn't deserve.
Love... was it wrong for it to be more than as a brother? Hell, this was weird, maybe repulsive if it wasn't for the fact that being so close to Dean meant that for the first time since his death, Sam felt almost whole again – Dean didn't hate him though he should.
"This is pretty fucked up," Sam admitted seriously, unable to keep his worry to himself; gazing concernedly into his brother's hazel-green eyes and distractedly slipping his free hand around Dean's waist; resting it on the small of his back.
"Yeah..." Dean looked away, letting go of Sam's face and placing his hand round his brother's neck. God, this was so wrong, but it felt better, easier; for once he felt safe. Needed by Sammy at last.
Everything was still for a moment, and then slowly Dean ran his hand further up Sam's smooth torso; his younger brother's toned abs tensing satisfyingly as his fingers ghosted across his skin. He glimpsed back up smirking hugely; well, Sammy always was his bitch.
Sam rolled his eyes and scowled, trying in vain to not be affected by his brother's touch and boost his already inflated ego. Dean angled his head up, his mouth tantalisingly close to Sam's own. Out of habit, he ran his tongue over his lips, almost making Sam lose control and sink into their delicious fullness. Managing to pull away, he titled his head up, bringing Dean's eyes level with his chin.
Dean raised an eyebrow sceptically; Sam was up to something – he only used that full and irresistibly loveable smile on bitter old nightshift waitresses or right before...
Oh he got it.
Scowling, Dean shook his head, "that's just mean, Sammy," he said, mock hurt and refusing to get on tip-toes for Sam's kisses, as hungry as he was for them.
"Who's the little bitch now?" Sam leered jokingly, lifting his chin up even higher, beaming as Dean's signature smile broke through again.
"Oh, you're asking for it," Dean shook his head again, hooking one foot behind Sam's leg and yanking; tripping his brother over backwards to land flat in the dry grass with Dean on all fours over him.
Sam groaned, winded and his back aching. He opened his eyes to see Dean looming just inches from his face, "Son of a– Dean you dick, that was not necessary. I was joking." He raised himself up onto his elbows, wincing as his back twinged.
"Yeah well, you know that's a sore spot," Dean smirked, "but," he closed the gap between them, his lips finally brushing on Sam's irresistibly swollen pair, "if this helps..." he pressed his mouth firmly into Sam's and pushed him back down before running his tongue lightly over the line where his lips met and reaching deeper into his mouth; exploring his enthralling taste and texture.
Sam let Dean roam and then steadily fought back, eventually forcing his way through Dean's lips, searching hungrily with his tongue as well as his hands; sliding under Dean's t-shirt, running along his spine and curling around his neck.
His fingers scratched long and lethargically into the short bristly hairs at the back of Dean's head, and unexpectedly his jaw went limp against Sam's mouth, his back arching reflexively.
Sam pushed Dean away and sat up; confused as he shivered and slowly regained his composure.
"What the hell was that?" He grinned bemusedly; Dean's eyes refocusing.
"You have magic hands, Sammy," he admitted surprised; absentmindedly lacing his fingers together with Sam's, wishing they were still running through his hair.
He smiled, "Dude, you're a fucking cat or something. No one does that you freak."
"Oh so I'm the freak now, am I?" Dean smirked teasingly; realising what he'd said too late.
Sam tensed suddenly; his body stiffening and his eyes flickering to the ground.
Dean kicked himself mentally, "shit, Sam, I'm sorry; you know I didn't mean that it just–"
"Don't worry, it doesn't matter."
"No, Sam, really, it just slipped out and I'm sorry." he said; trailing kisses up Sam's neck and along his jaw, each one an anxious plea of forgiveness.
Sam turned and looked up, catching Dean's lips full on his mouth and kissing him hard and desperately; pulling away after just a second and gazing deeply into his worried eyes.
He squeezed Dean's hands reassuringly; God, his older brother sure was pretty when he was being serious. Scared, thankful, sad or relieved; Sam had seen it all in under an hour. Then again, the expression Dean wore when he was perfectly content; every worry line and every trace of fear gone... well; then he was beautiful. Sam was just a freak and Dean should hate him.
He sighed bitterly, "I just want to be normal; so, being reminded that I'm never going to be that..." Sam glanced away, staring down, "That's why I'm doing it," he strained, "Using my... powers to save people, to help. I figured that you can't define good and evil by what something or someone is because–," he choked on his words, "if it's not what you do, you may as well kill me right here and now."
"Don't you dare say that to me Sammy," Dean hissed, grabbing his brother's chin and tilting it up so he could see his brother's face, as if staring hard enough into his eyes might make Sam see how distressed he was, how much it hurt to hear him say that.
The depth of Dean's raw emotion shimmered in the faint moonlight and Sam felt guilty for being so reckless with his words; their father's still a heavy burden to him. "Sorry," he whispered against Dean's lips, tasting his warm breath and looking away.
Dean saw Sam's sorrow and his expression softened, regretting his harshness. He pressed into Sam; kissing him tenderly "Me too," he smiled sadly, affectionately sweeping his brother's too-long hair out of his eyes; damn that kid needed a haircut.
Sam smiled back thankfully, but he had heard the hidden meaning behind those words. Fuck, this wasn't fair on Dean, he deserved so much better. Swallowing hard, he reluctantly drew back from his brother, turning his head away, trying hard not to look back at his concerned expression.
Dean stared anxiously at Sam, his hand tightening in his brother's hair.
"Sammy... what's wrong?" He asked tensely, His brother's jaw clenching as Dean's fingers released, brushing down his cheek gently.
He stared into the distance, the muscle in his cheek working furiously. "I don't understand," Sam said at last, resentfully; his eyes stinging wetly; "Why don't you hate me?" he turned back suddenly, staring into Dean's face searchingly, his brother's warm hand cupping his cheek.
Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head; "Sammy... don't start this again..." Jesus. Why did Sam have to bring this up? Dean wanted to but couldn't hate him and yet Sam wouldn't count his blessings and let it drop. He sighed inwardly; but this was Sammy – he never took the easy way out; not where he was concerned it seemed.
"I don't want to, but I can't help it, Dean – It's still there." He blinked and a tear escaped down his cheek, "You know you should hate me and there are so many reasons." He pulled his hand out of Dean's, balling it into a fist and glancing away from his older brother's raw, tender eyes – Damn it! Dean made everything so hard; the way his emotions blazed across his face in pain and fear and gratitude, beautiful yet devastating to look at.
Dean's thumb wiped away his tear and he glimpsed back up again, his brother's face stilling burning with worry and apprehension. "It's the way you look at me," Sam murmured finally; "Like now. As if I'm normal – as if I'm worth something. It scares me, Dean; that you don't seem to care what I am; that I might be allowed to have someone like you."
Dean angrily gripped Sam, kissing him hard and furiously, his nose crushing against his younger brother's and his free hand fisted in his shirt. Sam fought against him, pulling back roughly, leaving both him and Dean breathing heavily, eyes darting around restlessly.
Dean stared at Sam, seething, "For a college boy, you are one stupid son of a bitch," he said through gritted teeth, hiding his fear and pain with anger. Dean tugged on his brother's shirt violently, his face just an inch from Sam's and his words exploding into desperate shouts; "You think you're worthless? You think I would even have the fucking right to care who you are if I wanted to? If anything, I'm lucky to be allowed you. You don't have a clue what it's like to be truly merciless, evil, to enjoy other people's pain and to know you did willingly for years. You have no idea. Sammy, I don't fucking understand why you don't hate me when I don't even deserve to be here. I'm the fucking freak; the demon–" His voice cracked, tears making his vision swim; distorting Sam into watery obscurity and the shadows of hell bloomed into view.
Sam grabbed his brother suddenly, his cheek pressed hard against Dean's; horrified as his body turned weak in his arms; Dean Winchester undone. "You're not," Sam whispered into his ear, holding him tight and refusing to let his older brother breakdown on him, knowing that Dean would never forgive himself for being vulnerable as much as Sam didn't care.
"Although, I am an idiot – I guess it's just shock, or denial. To have this... to have you..." Dean could hear his brother smiling despite himself, Sam's lips brushing against the back of his jawbone, "but you need to realise it's not your fault."
"I can't Sammy," he breathed back, locking his arms around his younger brother, "you can't even begin to try and understand, so don't."
Sam's pulled his head back until both their noses were just touching; his hands reaching up and holding Dean's face gently; his expression imploring and sad – like a damn puppy's. Dean sighed, ashamed at his weakness as the wetness of his cheeks pressed against Sam's fingers, "Come on; don't look at me like that; you know I can't say no to that kinda look," he smiled feebly; "But I'm not joking about this shit, I'd tell you if I could but there's no way you can–"
Sam cut him off, tired of Dean's crap; kissing him hard and sucking and pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth and sliding one hand into his brother's hair, soft and tousled.
Dean gave into the kiss, growling softly and pushing into Sam, relaxing his firm grip and slipping Sam's open shirt off his shoulders, suddenly yearning to feel skin on skin, naked and smooth; one doomed flesh against another.
Sam broke away, pulling his t-shirt over his head before lifting Dean's off too. For just a moment they both paused, almost touching, eyes grazing over each other's bare bodies, his older brother's skin bleached pale by the moonlight. He shivered, remembering suddenly the last time Dean had looked so ashen...
Sam threw his spade down into the mud, hands bleeding and blistered; soaked to the skin in rain and plastered in mud.
Yet, what did he care? He couldn't feel a thing.
And now it was finished; a hole in the ground like any other.
He clambered out, ignoring how his back seared in pain, angrily sweeping his muck filled hair out of his face.
He paused out of habit, waiting for a wise crack about how no one took a fed seriously with a haircut like that; wishing for a Sammy-you-look-like-a-damn-girl joke. He laughed bitterly, collapsing into hysterical sobs; of course it never came, there would never be another damn joke. Choking, his knees gave way into cold, soaking mud; his hands fisting into thick peaty soil, shameless tears flowing like the rain that shouldn't ever cease and yelling hoarsely along with the storm until he didn't know – didn't want to know – whether he was still screaming or if it was just the world grieving with him.
Steadily rain blurred into everything, into his skin, into his eyes, his voice, clothes and he fell limp in the dirt... why didn't he just wash away with the rain too?
His body grew cold and stiff, but slowly he blinked open his eyes, knowing deep down that he had to finish this as much as it killed him, he'd promised Bobby he'd be able to do it if he did it alone.
Clearing his face, he sat up; accidently glimpsing something across from the pit that made him ache in every inch of his body. He turned away, biting back tears but eventually his eyes betrayed him, unable to draw away from the crude six foot something box that he'd managed to avoid the whole time he'd been digging, sodden and rigid and foreign.
He inched slowly forward; painfully aware of what was inside but powerless to stop himself crawling nearer and nearer, his heart stifling in his chest as his hands brushed against rough wood and Sam's hands began to work mechanically, almost against his will; pulling the un-nailed lid off the coffin and bringing him into view.
Sam fell weakly against the sides, crying out in agony as Dean lay motionless, still frozen in horror; cold and pale; his wounds covered by an old flannel shirt Bobby must have dressed him in. Uncontrollably, Sam reached out, stroking his brother's face, his skin like rubber and dotted with flecks of dark congealed blood and raindrops; hazel-green eyes glazed and staring back unseeingly.
A thin cord was pressed into Dean's skin, running around his neck and disappearing under his t-shirt. Sam's fingers held it and tugged the dark rope lightly, pulling the necklace out and laying it on his brother's still chest; tracing the wooden pendant and feeling its cold hardness closed in the palm of his hand.
Carefully Sam reached behind Dean's neck, unclasping the cord and placing it round his own and down his shirt, Dean's throat strangely bare as the cold wood warmed to Sam's skin. He stroked the necklace numbly, the rope familiar even after so many years. It had been one distant Christmas and a present intended for John, instead given to his brother and now with him; painfully obvious and heavy with memories.
Sam shuddered and glanced back at Dean; he looked so old and so young, trapped and free in his last moments of pain... he couldn't bear it – gently placing his two fingers on Dean's eyelids, he closed them for the last time. Sam cracked suddenly; breaking into frenzied tears that splashed onto his brother's petrified face and his eyes blurred, obscuring Dean into a hazy smudge – he could just be sleeping, his chest rising and falling peacefully, he was just sleeping, he had to be...
Sam gasped suddenly, feeling his eyes burning and tears trickling down his face.
"Sammy, what's wrong...?" Dean's hand cupped his cheek, his face etched with concern and stroking the tears on Sam's face, his own still damp.
Sam reached out and placed his hand on Dean's chest – warm and heaving; his heart beating under his fingers – impossibly and wonderfully alive. Sam sighed with relief, slowly letting his fingers trace along the muscles on Dean's rippling abs up to his broad shoulders, making him breathe out raggedly, his gaze suddenly lusting and fierce. He reached the soft skin at the edge his brother's throat and Sam marvelled at how Dean couldn't be more living or more intoxicating to his senses; or how bad he'd missed him.
His fingers hooked onto the cord of Dean's necklace, its familiar texture drawing up raw memories of the four months he'd worn it himself as a sharp reminder; "I just remembered when... the day you... burying..." his words all seemed to stick in his throat and he looked away, more tears threatening.
Dean shook his head, realisation dawning on him. He sighed. Christ, why did Sam put himself through all that again? He suddenly pictured Sammy lying glassy eyed in a shallow grave and shuddered – well maybe burying his brother wasn't something he'd forget easily. "Shit, Sam, pick a more morbid subject; this isn't a competition you know..." he chided light-heartedly, trying to steer him away from such dark thoughts.
Taking his brother's face in his hands, Dean pressed himself into his perfectly warm and smoothly toned body; brushing his mouth over Sam's wet cheeks and lips, kissing the salty tears away.
"I missed you, Dean," Sam muttered, wrapping his arms around him, his brother's heartbeat throbbing through his skin and the pendant sharply pressing against his chest – but here he was alive, and that was all that mattered.
"Me too," Dean murmured, whispering his words with wet lips; remembering how everyday for forty years he'd prayed for Sam to save him, missing him with a sense of grief he'd never felt before until then. His brother's hands drifted down his back and he bit into Sam's lip lightly; yet it seemed somehow every time Sam touched him it didn't hurt so much.
Sam ran his fingers down Dean's spine as his brother nipped at his lips playfully; irresistibly raking his fingers through his hair and the look of desire glinting in Dean's eyes again – the way he grazed over Sam's body with an animal hunger making him press closer lustfully; wanting to lose himself in Dean.
Sam licked along Dean's bottom lip and purred huskily in the back of his throat. Dean felt his eyes widen a little – Hello – Kinky Sammy alert; now this was more like it.
He grinned feverishly, crushing his mouth against his brother's and pushing Sam back down onto the grass – he could smell him, taste him, feel him; hot and warm and living – everything was Sam and everything was safe, engulfed in his huge arms.
Sam kissed deeper into Dean's mouth, feeling a familiar, warm heat building in his gut, along with a throbbing hardness building in his pants. Dean shifted his hips on Sam's instinctively, his own stiffness grinding into him, making him buck into his older brother.
Feeling his brother rigid against him, Dean's lips suddenly left Sam's; instead sucking and kissing along his throat and down his chest; licking and biting at his hard nipples; making Sam grip into his hair; groaning softly as Dean's hips moved off his. Travelling further down his torso, Dean ran his tongue over his brother's rippled abs and bit into the soft flesh near his hipbone, Sam's skin glistening with the lightest sheen of sweat.
Sam's breath shuddered and he stared dazedly up at the stars; his skin felt hot and fevered everywhere Dean had touched or kissed or bitten or stroked, the rest of him numb in comparison.
The fire travelled with Dean's tongue down to his jeans and stopped. Sam sat up slowly; panting heavily and apprehensively watching his brother unzip his jeans, Dean pulling the fly apart and tugging his pants down to his ankles. A tiny moan escaped from Sam's lips as his brother crawled back up his legs with an agonizing slowness; reaching up and only letting his teeth just tease at the waistband of his boxers, his back arching reflexively as Dean's chin just brushed his bulge through the thin material.
Dean licked the few wiry hairs that crept out of his brother's boxers, smirking hugely as Sam fisted his hands into the dry grass, his glare fevered, "Fuck Dean; will you just get on with it..." he growled, his voice breathy and exasperated.
Grinning silently, Dean carefully pulled Sam's shorts past his engorged cock, marvelling at how he'd made Sam completely hard without even touching him. He frowned suddenly, a little worried – fuck it couldn't be bigger than his...
Sam groaned again and Dean shook away such petty thoughts; closing a hand round the thick shaft and rubbing and stroking slowly at first, gradually building a steady, firm rhythm up and down; up and down; gently teasing his brother's balls with his other hand.
Sam whimpered Dean's name, his eyes shut tightly and his body tingling with pleasure; arms both weak and tense at once. Sam suppressed any premature urges, wanting this moment to stretch out for as long as possible as Dean increased his speed and he bucked into his hands, groaning louder before his brother stopped unexpectedly, making Sam glimpse back at his brother desperately, begging him not to be cruel.
"Dean... don't be a–"
"Hey; Sammy, don't worry, there's just something I've always wanted to try..." Dean had had it done enough times to him; it couldn't really be that hard, could it...?
His mouth lowered tentatively towards the head of his cock and Sam froze in realisation, Dean's warm breath making him tremble slightly.
"Prepare to be blown away," he smirked, before sinking his lips over the head, hovering cautiously for just a second and then suddenly swallowing Sam whole.
Sam gasped, his elbows giving way as Dean enveloped him in warm wetness; sucking and licking his cock hard and fast, every few strokes pulling all the way back and running his tongue over the slit.
Sam's eyes glazed over and his jaw went slack, arching and bucking and pressing harder into Dean; forcing him deeper into each downward length, almost choking him on the thick shaft as it reached further into his throat. One of Sam's hands found its way into Dean's hair again, and Sonofabitch! Sammy dug in hard. He pushed Dean's head forcefully down into his crotch, unable to hold it back any longer; firmly clutching him in deep with a motherfucking iron grip as he came; Dean gagging and his mouth filling with Sam's hot, salty release.
He rolled over and collapsed, swallowing the saltiness and panting hard; maybe he'd think twice about teasing Sam as much next time – he liked rough but that was bordering on dangerous; he practically choked Dean on his damn cock for Christ's sake. He coughed, frowning; his throat raw as he lay sprawled in the grass next to his brother; eyes closed and catching his breath like Sam but burningly unsatisfied.
Sam sighed, heart slowing and body spent; head clearing as he shakily pulled his boxers back up. Sitting up gingerly, he slipped off his shoes, socks and pants; lying down again and marvelling with a newfound clarity at his Dean induced orgasm. He blinked up at the stars, the dry grass scratching at his legs, still in shock over the startling wave of pleasure that had washed over every corner of his body, better and deeper than any before.
"Wow," he said out loud, the one word encapsulating every thought perfectly.
"Mmm..." He heard Dean mumble next to him, almost sarcastically.
He turned over to his brother, faltering a little, "Huh?" He said, concerned and confused; Dean's eyes staring pensively up to the night sky, an amused smile playing at his lips.
"You need to be careful where you stick that," he replied hoarsely, dragging his eyes from the stars and staring pointedly at Sam, "or how you use it..."
Sam frowned bewilderedly, "Hey! But you– oh..." Dean smiled as Sam suddenly seemed to understand, the look of irrational guilt blooming on his face so much so he almost felt guilty himself.
Sam was on Dean in a second, kissing his swollen lips and fretting anxiously over him, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Shit I'm sorry–"
Dean grabbed his brother's looming face with a hand gripped over his mouth, stopping him mid-sentence. He laughed at his deer-trapped-in-the-headlights look, "Sammy, Jesus! Calm down," he moved his hand and pulled Sam's face nearer to his, kissing him long and tenderly. He broke apart slowly, grinning, "I'm just not that used to having cock in my mouth..."
Sam opened his mouth in protest; it wasn't just that though, he'd gone crazy – a whole new dimension of losing control, the way Dean made him feel... it was amazing but–
"Aw Sammy, will you stop looking so worried," Dean said croakily; Sam frowning as he rolled his eyes. "Look; if you still feel bad then you could sort me out down there..." his eyes trailed over Sam's naked body, lust and renewed desire suddenly blazing fervently in his gaze.
Gentle lips touch his and Dean grinned, pressing harder into Sam's kisses, reaching into his mouth and hands in his brother's soft, soft hair; ignoring how his mouth burned against Sam's tongue.
Sam let his hand drift down his brother's torso, feeling his way blindly over his chest and stomach; muscles running under his fingers in waves and curves. His hand touched the edge of his jeans and Sam's lips left Dean's, undoing the zipper on his brother's pants and pulling them down along with his boxers – he didn't think he'd risk playing around with Dean, not if his own reaction was anything to go by. He bit his lip, ashamed; Dean had put up with pain for Sam's pleasure, he could have stopped but endured it just for him. Sam smiled, an idea dawning on him – maybe he'd return the favour...
Closing his eyes, Dean braced himself for hands – huge hands; hands that would hold him all at once; bring him to the brink and let him explode–
He gasped, eyelids fluttering; his hips pressed heavily down by something and his dick gripped like no other, crushingly held with such tightness. He sat up as much as he could; moaning as he felt himself go deeper into... Dean snapped his eyes open – into Sammy.
"Fuck. Oh Fuck! Sam, you didn't have to– Jeeesus," Sam pushed himself further down on Dean in dismissal, seemingly unable to speak; jaw clenched and hazel eyes wide. Dean grabbed his brother's hips suddenly, his fingers digging in hard as he fought to keep control, "'cause you need to be fucking sure," he grit breathily, pushing even deeper into Sam and clenching every muscle to stop him from losing it.
Sam groaned, gasping as the head of Dean's cock at last pressed into the tight bundle of nerves up inside him. Grinning feverishly; he leant forward and wrapped his arms around Dean, kissing him and staring into his wild green eyes. "Do anything," he whispered simply, loving how his brother's pupils seemed to dilate even further.
He couldn't hold on any longer; Sam's words sending him over the edge. With a frenzied madness Dean began thrusting and sinking and pulling in and out of Sam's giant body, gripping his hips with a bruising hold, merciless to his whimpers of pain and revelling with him in his moans and cries of joy. Soon it became easier, just guiding Sam as he started to move with him, relaxed and stretched around him; his spent organ resting on his stomach.
Every second of smarting soreness was suddenly replaced with bliss, then soreness again, but less every time and rewarded by the same wonderful pleasure. Sam swallowed Dean all the way up to the hilt, smiling as the pain lessened to a dull ache and Dean could only grunt his appreciation.
He leaned into his brother, kissing his lips roughly and watching Dean's muscles ripple and flex with each thrust, his skin shining with perspiration. One of his hands let go of Sam's sides, instead pressing it flat against his chest before clenching slowly, Dean's nails digging in, making him hiss and leaving raw red marks.
Dean opened his eyes, half apologetic at the scratches and half incredibly turned on by Sam's growling; placating them both with a kiss that bit his teeth into his brother's lips.
He pressed his forehead into Sam's, breathing shakily as his body started to ache and the pleasure began to build; driving in harder and forcing even deeper than before; Sam moving with him through the newfound pain. Dean glimpsed down, seeing his brother hard again; "up again already?" he smirked, his voice a little too strained and breathy for the sarcasm to work; not that Sam seemed to mind as he closed his free hand round him, rubbing in time with his thrusts.
Sam felt like he was on fire, "I think... I'm going... to die..." he whispered on Dean's lips as he increased his pace, both men forcing relentlessly into the other, moving closer to the brink with every push; fiercer and more violently than ever before.
Dean reached breaking point suddenly, yelling out his release as he filled Sam and unparalleled satisfaction surged through every inch of his body, leaving him shuddering; collapsed as Sam joined him; spurting onto his stomach.
Vision dazed and shaking, Sam pulled gingerly off Dean, trying in vain not to give way onto him; only just managing to move off him before his knees yielded beneath him and he collapsed too.
Dean grunted as Sam's shoulder bumped his; the silence augmenting and filled only with their hard panting, Sam's hot body rising and falling by his side. Dean sighed as eventually his breathing slowed and his arms stopped shaking; that had been one hell of a fuck, he ached all over and his cock felt red raw but it had been worth it. A smile broadened across his face that wouldn't go away; apart from being totally beat, he felt amazing – a weird contentedness he hadn't known for so long spreading through him.
Remembering the wetness on his abdomen, he groped around in the dark until he found his shirt, wiping the stickiness carefully off his stomach and pulling his boxers back up; discarding his shoes and pants just as Sam did before. He lay back down, staring up at the moon, what a night they'd been through...
Sam didn't dare move. He didn't even consider sorting out his nakedness; it was easier to stay still, nothing hurt, well not much if he just stayed still. He tilted his head just slightly, glancing down at Dean's hand and reaching his own out just a little, lacing their fingers together.
His brother rolled over at his touch, smirking at Sam's boxers, "too tired?" he asked, reaching down and pulling them up for him, grinning as he flinched; "or too painful?"
"Tired," he insisted, frowning; if he could he'd get Dean in a headlock right about now...
Dean lifted his free hand up in mock-defence, "Sure Sammy, whatever you say," he replied sceptically, smirking hugely but wondering inwardly if he'd given Sam a little too much payback for the first time round.
He stretched back out again, running the same hand down his brother's side and smiling triumphantly as Sam grabbed it, not letting it reach any further than his bruised hips.
"Really Sam?"
"Fine." He scowled, "It fucking does hurt okay? But the first time you bottom will be just the same–"
"I think... I'm going... to die–"
"Hey!" Sam looked hurt and Dean calmed him with kisses, long and deep. "You are so easy to bug, Sammy. You know I don't mean it."
Sam just glared back at his older brother before edging gingerly closer and resting his head on Dean's chest, deciding to give him the cold shoulder, though secretly pleased the old Dean seemed to be back – teases and all.
A hand knitted into his hair and he couldn't help but smile; so what if his arse ached like a bitch? He had his brother at last, heart beating in his ear and chest rising beneath him – things couldn't be much better.
Minutes past in silence. "You're quiet," He stated; it was unusual. "What are you thinking about?"
Dean grinned to himself, mussing his brother's hair, "That if there is a God up there, he's probably having second thoughts about dragging me out. I kinda doubt he was expecting this. Don't you think it's weird he might be watching us? Creeps me out..." He glanced up to the stars; scowling upwards; damn that was almost pervy.
Sam drew shapes casually on his brother's warm abdomen; lazily outlining every muscle, Dean's words humming in his chest against his ear; "Well I'm glad you're back. And second thoughts or not, they need you, Dean; Castiel said so himself. There's more planned for you."
"You think?" Dean asked; more to himself than Sammy. This whole thing... it just didn't make sense, what made him so special? What terrible fate or test or job did the angels have for him that only he was able to fix? It couldn't be something good; it never was – why else would he be allowed this second chance after everything he did in the pit? He didn't deserve it and Dean was sure they'd make him pay.
His chest tightened a little; he'd cracked in hell, fallen and begun torturing for Alistair like his little bitch boy. He shouldn't be here; it was wrong and unfair – he'd sliced and hacked at so many souls it had turned into an art, their screams his muse; everyday spent down there refining his technique; slowly corroding his morality until he was numb. There were hundreds, no, thousands of better men who should've been saved and yet here Dean was; alive and breathing and worthless.
Eye's burning, he clenched his jaw; the memories just too raw and too dirty to ignore, opening out like a dark chasm inside him that threatened to swallow him whole if he didn't pull back now.
Sam frowned uneasily; Dean's breathing suddenly coming in sharp, shallow breaths as if he was struggling to keep control, trying not to cry.
"You alright?" He asked softy, nestling closer into his brother's body. Gently he kissed the clammy skin in between his ribcage, Dean's chest still rising and falling irregularly.
Sam's voice brought Dean back down. He closed his eyes; Sammy – focus on Sammy; the long dark hair in his hand, the broad, tanned back stretched out in front of him, the love that exuded from him in every word and every touch; the marks he'd left on Dean's physically and mentally ever since he was born, right up to the ache in his body that said he was Sam's and no one else's. His brother was his life and always had been. It was that simple, and that was why he was back; alive just for Sam.
His brother's breathing slowed and Sam didn't press Dean any further, just relieved. "Yeah," Dean whispered quietly, his hand rubbing down Sam's back, rhythmically circling as if he was a child.
It was dark.
Everywhere was dark; shadows hugging his crib like monsters creeping slowly to get him, to snatch him away because he was alone.
He wanted Dean.
Fear gripped Sam suddenly; where was he? Tears filled his eyes and his throat burned with a held-back scream; did he dare cry, or would the darkness hear him first and swallow him up? His lip wobbled at the thought, he wished Dean was here to keep him safe. Nothing could touch him when he was around...
Wails burst from his mouth, yelling and screaming and sobbing and yanking his blanket over his head; giving Dean maybe a few seconds more to find him before the monster jumped out and surrounded him–
Big arms held him, scooping and hugging in one swift moment. Sam gasped in relief, sobbing into the warm shirt and breathing in a smell that shouted 'Dean!' and not daring to open his eyes until he felt soft mattress beneath him.
He curled tightly into Dean's side; his brother's arm wrapped around and the blanket drawn up like a barrier, snivels dying as Dean hushed him; a hand rubbing circles on his back soothingly.
Glimpsing up at Dean he was met by big green worried eyes, eyes that said, "Don't cry Sammy." He sniffed for the last time then, smiling; "Sorry," he whispered. He hadn't meant to make Dean upset, he was just scared and–
"No Sammy," he smiled back, "I'm sorry I left you alone; daddy says I have to keep you safe."
Dean looked disappointed somehow, but Sam was too tired to ask. He snuffled into Dean's shirt instead; the rhythmic circles and his brother's breathing making Sam's eyelids droop.
The second before Sam's eyes closed for good, he realised something – it was still dark, but somehow Dean made him forget; sweeping away his monsters because they were safe; together forever.
So do you hate me, or have I done the first two chapters justice?
Please review because I've re-read this so many times I have no idea if I just wrote a load of bull or not :D
Thanks for waiting again!
xxxxx