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Warning: Wincest. Inappropriate language (really?). Two or three chapters, no ...
PART 2
...
"This is something about control issues, you know?"
"Huh?" But what the hell are you talking about? " Dean put the weird memories aside, shocked. Sam pointed to an advert board for a hotel on the roadside. Historic inn with promotional rates in low season. Full board.
"They seem desperate for guests, but we can eat well for a change." Dean liked the idea, but apparently Sam had not given up the later subject.
"You know. I know you liked that. That day. You liked to have someone watching over you for a change."
"Oh God, Sam, still mumbling about that?" Dean made a face, avoiding the subject once again, surprised and intrigued that Sam was still wondering exactly what he was thinking. On how damn good it was. "Do you think I need someone just to keep feeding me and tucking me in, singing lullabies to me and… eek! drooling at my face?"
"And making you up." Sam added, graciously glancing to Dean. A glance meaning he would not mind being called emo, Samantha or even bitch about it.
"Dude, you need therapy. Who the hell thinks of their own brother as their personal Barbie?"
Sam just cocked his eyebrow in response, suggesting many things...
Dean shuddered, thinking about it. Certainly, the years passed and everything had an awful lot of very wrong and sick! the more Dean thought about it, with the eyes of an adult.
The car slid on the gravel in the hotel courtyard, another old inn in the sequence of old things and stories of other people; it was how life was for the Winchesters. The Winchesters had no home, no names, and there was a constant pressure for movement that pushed them always forward; and the only breaks were just long enough to recover and move on. And Dean lost focus for a moment, thinking he was like the guy in the barrel, trying to control the direction while descending the Niagara Falls.
"Oh dude, you have no idea how creepy this conversation is turning." He got out of the car, things were not as funny as he thought they would be in the morning.
Sam picked up speed to follow the older man, the earlier feeling in his belly now turning into something uncomfortable; but Sam was a sort of guy that could not simply ignore something.
"You know, Dean: you like, have all these things you say you love... Your classic rock, the car and... All this... this vehemence, is so weird that I don't think you can say that liking dolls is all that strange. And besides, it was not "the dolls". It was "you"."
Dean wanted to scream, "I" dressed as a doll! But the face of the hotel clerk knowing all he had heard from this conversation was bad enough.
"Double room, king-sized bed?" The man asked, anticipating their request as if to prove his efficiency and total lack of prejudice. Dean just cocked an eyebrow at his brother, and sighed, tired:
"Whatever."
And as they went to the room, Dean wondered if that anxiety, that heat he felt every time he thought of himself lying there all ridiculous and happy, carefree and confident- still feeling Sam's little fingers slipping over his closed eyes careful and lightweight- if it was more than love of brothers, if it was also desire. And if that was it, that explained it a lot.
That memory had powdered his skin with the same dust that made his lips tingle when Sam passed his lipstick glossy fingers over Dean's mouth. Lipstick was so wrong- as wrong Sam saying I'll take care of you now, whispering in his ear and Dean becoming faint with those sticky hot kisses on the cheek, head, neck, ear...
"What the hell is that?" Dean pointed to the dress on the bedroom wall, the first thing he saw when he opened the door. Sam scratched his head, staring at the piece of clothing kept in the manner of wedding dresses, exposed as if it were a relic.
"I don't know. Maybe the dress of someone who had their honeymoon here in this room. Man, it's a historic inn, remember?"
"I hope that the food they serve here is worth sleeping facing the Corpse Bride's dress." The older man muttered, dropping his things and choosing his bedside.
And in the shower tonight, his vision blurred as the water fell and his hand reached to his tumescent dick as he was imagining himself there again, with a few tweaks. Just feeling Sam's breath bent over him, his tiny fingers holding tight his neck open your mouth, he had said, and Dean is my doll. And Dean knew his perverted mind was distorting every word and act, but the feeling was so exciting and then he remembered that when he tried to leave the state of languor and pleasure, and looked through the curtain of his lashes, there was Sam's sweet and concerned look… a look of love, a look that he never forgot and which no other can compare. The feeling was something that tingled and crawled under his skin once awakened by Sam's comments earlier. It was all about what and how Dean felt that day.
He put his hand on the cold tile and the other worked frantically wondering that, now today there was the same grasp, the same look... Grown-up Sam's look of concern and care invaded his mind then. And it was even better to think of Sam's hands now, Sam and his big and strong hands, touching Dean's face like that. Dean slid his hand over his hard cock with more force now and leaned back against the wall with a cold strange pleasure from the shock, choking with the pleasure and coming suddenly and then he was thinking that he really wanted it all again. Dean wanted to be owned by someone; wished to be Sam's property.
...
"Dean, what the hell, will you stop it?" Sam sleepily mumbled, feeling the weight on the mattress sway while his brother was rearranging himself on by his side for the hundredth time.
"I cannot sleep, dude."
He heard the confession in a muffled voice, fully awake. Sam took a few seconds to digest it in his numb and sleepy mind, but when understood, it woke him up completely.
"But ... why?"
The older brother sighed and took a while to respond, and that meant a lot.
"It's ... It's the dress, Sammy. I cannot sleep with that old dreadful dress staring at me."
"Dean, dresses do not stare. How can anyone be afraid of a dress? And man, you're a hunter!" Sam was surprised and amused at the same time.
The older man did not answer this time and Sam raised his chest, leaning on one arm, to face his brother. His green eyes glowed in the dark, wide open, and Dean's perfect face was illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window. Sam was always half envious-half mesmerized on how sexy Dean could be in every fucking moment. He was aware of this trait of his brother from an early age, it seemed. And it was very disturbing.
"I bet that insomnia is from indigestion, it is. After all that you ate tonight ..."
Dean quickly turned his gaze from the dress to his brother's face, then turned to face the clothing in front of him again, dead serious. Sam stifled a laugh, got up and went to the wall where the piece was. He plucked the dress from the wall.
"Uh, look how scary! Booooohohohoo!" he sneered, looking at his brother and stroking the satin. But he did not expect the sensation would carry him back to Dean wearing a nightgown in his early teen years. He immediately got aroused, looking at his brother under the duvet and bathed in moonlight, looking like the very definition of Sin.
Dean was just watching his movements with heavy eyes.
There was something in Dean's eyes, something in the air, something between them and Sam knew what it was. It was something that happened every day between them in such minimal fractions of seconds that it could go unnoticed. But this time it stretched as if time is stretched too. It was the need that one had for the other and it had so many layers that all mingled in with a million other things. Sam did not think there was a way to define it. But today, undoubtedly he knew that Dean wanted him, just as he had always wanted Dean.
He went back to bed, bringing the dress with him, placing it between them and facing his brother's eyes. All the time. He walked into those eyes, and Dean's eyes were not something to be deciphered; He extended his hand to the neck of the older man, running his thumb across the jugular, feeling the skin crawl and shiver under his touch, the fine tiny hairs standing on end.
"Sammy ..." Dean begged, and Sam knew it was fear of losing control. He rested his other hand on his brother's face, ran his fingers over Dean's lips while the other was still slightly brushing the big vein. His left thumb played through the slit between those lips, until he saw a flash of Dean's perfect teeth, and slid the tip of his thumb between them.
"Shhhh Dean. Let me take care of you..."
Dean closed his eyes and Sam can feel the warmth that began to emanate from the body of his brother, and leaned over him, kissing his head and getting involved with one arm in a possessive and protective embrace, their bodies coming together and bringing together the satin dress between them.
Sam slid over depositing kisses on the forehead, eyebrows, eyelids, each of them, the well-designed cheeks of his brother; feeling within himself the growing desire and realizing by the way that Dean locked his arms around his body that they would not be stopping this anytime soon. Then he kissed the tip of the nose, feeling Dean's breathing quickening, feeling his hard body against Sam's, having only the memory-evocative satin dress keeping their bodies from touching.
But now they were adults and knew that there were other ways to express it. Now they needed that. Sam took Dean's mouth, that mouth that tormented him, that luscious mouth that made him an addict for full lips. Dean's lustful lips, the full lips of Jess…, somehow related in his mind. The mouth of Dean where he could now play with the tongue, could bypass the design of those lips with his tongue, could slowly part them with his tongue, could dive his tongue into it. Could have it. His.
"Uhn... delicious..." he spoke, muffled. Dean just allowed him to dive in, fingers twitching against the fabric on the back of Sam's tee, his legs tangling up in Sam's.
Sam was surprised at how languid, loose Dean was in his arms. When he searched by air and buried his face in his brother's neck, kissing the prominence of his clavicle under the skin. When his hands slid to his chest and the sides of his ribs, drawing Dean tee up in the process, Sam knew that Dean would lose control this time.
"Uh ..." just the thought that Dean had this confidence in him made his cock throb painfully and Sam jerked his hip against his brother's body, rolling with pure desire. Sam could hear Dean panting, doing the same.
"Would you be mine?" Sam asked in his ear, not resisting and taking the earlobe into his mouth, sucking, his hand up under Dean's shirt and touching his hard nipples.
Dean groaned arching his head back and bringing their pelvises together, jerking down, muttering something like ohmygod and ahan. Sam would rather think that he had heard it, anyway.
"Yeah? That's what you said? Are you mine, Dean?" down the mouth by his neck, licking, sucking, dropping a hand over his brother's hip, down again, feeling his firm, tight ass, feeling goose flesh and pressing it hard, his hand cupping it.
"Oh, ahan, yeah." Dean gasped, his hand also slipped around Sam's back, sending the most hallucinating shivers through him again. Sam bent to kiss him with more desire, pulling Dean's boxers down without the slightest qualms, bringing his hand forward slowly, exploring the sensitive skin of his brother to Dean's thighs, while he found the satin fabric again and used it to fondle Dean's nipples softly.
"Good..." Dean groaned, gasping and letting Sam do what he wanted.
"My doll..." Sam stopped everything just to watch Dean's face dominated by sensations. He could be beautiful in every moment, his swollen lips more desirable now and totally pornographic.
"Touch me, please ..." Dean cracked open his eyes, bright and dilated pupils making him the sexiest creature alive on the planet.
"Ohmygosh, you're beautiful, Dean." Sam whispered, completely in love. He had no idea if tomorrow or in the next 15 years things would change or simply be forgotten as they were until today. But they simply could no longer avoid it. He let his fingers reach Dean's erect and throbbing hard cock, which trembled at the moment. He knew that the last minutes of Dean rubbing his body against the satin had turned him on at his maximum. He began slowly, shyly caressing, feeling the contractions of Dean's body, his own body needing immediate attention; sometimes it seemed that he would simply orgasm at any time, almost losing consciousness and struggling to control himself. Just to see each of Dean's reactions. Dean was incredibly sexy, every move, every breath of air we took, every look, he was perfect in everything.
Then gradually taking over Dean's hardness while maintaining a rhythmic movement, he kissed his chest, licked his nipples so hypersensitive then moved his tongue down Dean's perfect body.
"Oh hell Sam no..." Dean tried to stop him because he would not hold up so much pleasure. It was all new and scary and he felt as if he were in a free fall from a two hundred story building, preparing to die after that, and was so satisfied and free!
Sam did not listen. He just looked up at Dean when he arched his body trying to stop him. Sam had already crossed the territory of his navel and looked with desire at the throbbing cock in his hands. Sam's eyes were smiling, bright, and Dean threw his body back again, against the mattress, knowing that it was time to yield.
"Oh yeah, Dean. You're mine. I'll play the way I want to." Sam began by giving a kiss on the head of Dean's penis, and another and another, and then his tongue began to play around slowly, provocatively, Sam computing each reaction proceeding from the body of his big brother. Then he took it all in his mouth, latching a hoarse, muffled cry by Dean. "Oh fuck God, this is...!"
His brother's taste was good, and Sam found a way to get the rhythm of it fast, loving the sensation, loving to give all that pleasure to Dean. But he was definitely very tight in his own boxers and got rid of them with his free hand, without abandoning his task, beginning to masturbate himself frantically. His tongue slipped into Dean's balls and then further down, stimulating and making Dean literally buck with pleasure.
"Dean ... I need you now." Sam warned. He could no longer bear the desire to be inside of Dean, to possess him completely, to consummate his possession- to come inside him. Latched to slide his body on top of Dean, rubbing their erections against each other; he took his mouth with lust. Dean lifted his body, offering his neck, with his legs hooked around Sam's waist, asking for him. It just left Sam crazy, that lustful languor and both knew that Dean was Sam's since ... Forever, perhaps. But it was that fact's acceptance by both, which they could no longer run from, not for one more day, not even if they wanted to. And Sam knew that for a long time he did.
Not today. So they had not yet been lovers and never before had considered the possibility of that becoming reality. But now Sam put two fingers in Dean's mouth again. And Dean voluptuously slicked with ease, as if his life depended on it, looking straight into the eyes of his brother, sensuously. Sam immediately felt a throb throughout his body and fought to control himself at the totally hot sight. He wouldn't last longer, it was fact. So with fingers covered in saliva, he looked for Dean's spot, invading and moving carefully, feeling his reaction and heat; starting a rhythmic back and forth while pushing his pelvis against Dean's, their erections together at the same pace.
The oldest gasped, speechless. Forehead and chest dotted by tiny glowing beads of sweat, as well as Sam's. The swollen lips parted searching by air and occasionally being ravaged by the hungry mouth of the youngest.
Then Dean asked, not with words, but with his cracked eyes look. Sam replaced the fingers with his hard as iron cock, slowly, with the deepest care; until he felt his brother's body to push against his, capturing him all inside. He clung to the older like he was drowning, choking, breathless. The feeling was so intense that he lost the notion of who he was. He joined Dean's mouth with more searing kisses, mad, moving and thrusting inside him and crashing his body in one insane grasp.
"Mine." Sam whispered, his eyes two blind slits, intoxicated by the smell and the warmth and the love of Dean.
"Y-yours." Dean at his limit, came in waves of pleasure, the spasms of his body pushing Sam to his own come, there, inside, a flooding, invading and marking, the moans of one another mingling and mixing until their bodies began to relax. Breaths began to return to normal rhythm. The breathless dizziness dismissing overtime.
Then Sam and Dean entwined in a love embrace, spooning themselves. Sam kissed Dean's neck, controlling the desire to bite it and mark him.
Didn't want to hurt Dean. Ever.
"Dean?"
"Huh?"
"We came on the hotel's dress." Sam was serious, but then ended up chuckling. Dean followed him.
"But it's a fucking wedding dress. Someone must have done it before, right?"
They laughed again, nesting for the night.
The next morning, Dean woke up with Sam putting lipstick on his lips.
TO BE CONTINUED
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