Arriving back at the motel, Dean spoke softly, "Come on, Sammy," gently shaking him awake. Sam's head on his shoulder, he showed no indications of waking up but at least he was just asleep and had not passed out again. "Sammy? Let me get you inside," and shook him again this time getting a response.
Through the door and he guided him to sit at the head of the bed. He was dirty and scratched and it just made him sad yet again. He had had to rescue his little brother yet again. It was his fault that his little brother had gotten hurt… again.
Dean longed for a time he had never really known. That he could only remember vaguely along with his, their, mother's face. He remembered the first time he had seen Sam in the hospital. So small. His mother smiling down at him then up at Dean. "Look Dean. Your new brother." His Father smiling fit to burst, holding his shoulder and pushing him closer so he could meet Sammy.
He longed for a time when they could be safe again. When neither had to protect the other from all the evils of the world. When there would be no more livid colours covering their bodies. When they would not need to tattoo those bodies with symbols to ward off possession. When they would not need to spend all their money on weapons, ammo, salt and bandages.
He yearned for a time when they could have a real home. No more dingy motel rooms with décor a crime against the senses. A time when they could relax and just live. Together.
That would not change. Wherever they ended up, whatever they ended up doing, they would be together. All his dreams, his fantasises involved Sam. If people could watch his fondest daydreams they would either be shocked or disappointed as they always involved the same thing. Breakfast made in his own kitchen, on his own cooker, served up on his own table by Lisa as Sam sat down to eat next to young Ben. It was not much, nothing special but it was what he longed for. A quiet life in a quite little corner of America, in Lawrence perhaps, in a pale blue house with eggs and bacon on the table and classic rock on the radio.
Well of course it was never going to happen. This was as close as he was going to get. Quiet, with him silently tending to Sam. His home. The only one he knew, the only one he had. The only one he needed. His Sam.
And now his Sam needed him again. Holding his brother's face, tilting it up to look at him, his thumb smeared dirt across his cheek and he decided he needed to be clean and tended. "You need a shower, Dude." But Sam just gazed at him, his eyes fighting to stay open without moving from the bed. Dean stood back arms crossed considering. "Fine," and headed off into the bathroom smiling. The sound of running water then he was back and, with laughter in his voice, he called in a sing song, "Sammy. Bath time."
Sam looked up at him sleepily then smiled, "Awe but Dean?"
"Come on Sammy you know you need one."
He laughed affectionately, "I'm not a kid anymore."
"But you still stink."
"I did not smell as a child!" the banter waking him somewhat or, more accurately, keeping him awake.
"Yeah? I was there remember."
Yes, he did. Dean had always been there.
Sam struggled to stand and staggered on unsteady legs and Dean was there once more to catch him, helping him into the bathroom. He was too tired to be embarrassed as Dean undid his jeans and he leant on his shoulder as his brother bent on one knee to remove his shoes then pulled his jeans down and off. A moment's hesitation, then his shorts were removed too. It was kind of cute how Dean looked everywhere but at him as, standing, he helped him into the tub and Sam sank gratefully down into the warm water, hissing as it reached the scratches down his back.
"Dean. Promise me you're not going to scrub all the skin off me like you used to?"
"I did not."
"Oh yes, you did."
"Well…" standing, "I ain't scrubbing anything. You're on your own." He looked around, "Sorry we ain't got any of that fancy smellin' stuff you like so much. This'll have to do," and he threw the small block of motel soap at him.
"Thanks," as the bar hit him. "Could you get me my shampoo though?"
"Sure," and Dean headed back into the room smirking.
By the time he got back, all of two minutes later, Sam was asleep again, the water still running and creeping up to his face. Shaking his head Dean turned off the tap and stood stiffly catching his own reflection over the sink. He too was filthy, covered in soot and stuff he did not want to consider. Well a shower was out and glancing around at the slumbering Sam, decided he was safe enough to have a strip wash.
Taking up Sam's bottle of shampoo, he sniffed at it and with that crooked grin decided, what the heck, and wondered if he'd get the same reaction as they did on the TV advert.
No sudo orgasm later, but he had to admit he smelt much better and proceeded gingerly to scrub himself down.
The place was soaked but he didn't much care as he decided Sam must be pruning by now. He checked that he had not drowned then dropping his towel on the floor, went to get clean shorts and, not finding any, slipped on his one remaining pair of jeans. Guess tomorrow was laundry day then.
"Sam. Wake up." Standing hands on hips. "Sam!" a little louder but still no response. He would have been worried if not for the slight snoring. Sam must have been filthy as the water had bits floating in it. He'd need a shower after all. Dean knelt down ignoring the water seeping into the fabric of his jeans and gently shook Sam awake. "Need to wake up buddy and get washed."
Not with it Sam, slowly sat up rubbing at his face and grimaced. "The waters gone cold."
"Yeah? Well deal." He reached around for the shampoo and squeezed far too much over his 'little' brother laughing. They were grown ups with Sam taller than him now but he suddenly felt young again scooping water over his brother and, laughing, turned the shampoo in to mounds of suds, massaging his head just being egged on by the repeated, "Get off me," as Sam weakly tried to fight his hands away.
Rinsing him off with the plastic beaker from the sink took awhile and his laughter had vanished to be replaced by a thoughtful expression as he proceeded to lather up the thin washcloth and wash across Sam's back and shoulders.
"Dean. I can wash myself."
"Ur huh," and he just carried on, being careful of the scratches. He hated then. What exactly had that Bastard Glummer done to his Sammy? He continued to wash him, his back, his arms, his chest, not really noticing that the complaining had stopped, that Sam had closed his eyes, this time his head swaying slightly in time to the strokes on his body. Dean gently lifted a hand, washing it with care then letting it drop lightly into the water before moving the cloth over Sam's long legs under the water.
Sam relaxed back in the tub feeling good and truly enjoying being washed. This was nothing like it used to be. This was something out of a dream. He moved down wanting the cloth travelling up his leg to continue its progress but Dean chose that moment to speak and break the spell. "That's it. Out of the tub before you fall asleep again." And the plug was pulled.
Sam tried to stand but could not lever himself up and once more needed to rely on his brother's strong body to hold him. "Damn it, Sam!" as he nearly lost him. Dean's plan to get him to sluice off with a shower was not going to work if he could not stand up. The water had drained but left a tide mark around the bath and on Sam. With the amount of scratches he had, Dean wanted him clean. He stood and switched on the shower but it was not powerful enough to cover the tub.
Swearing again, there was only one thing for it and, grabbing him under the arms, through gritted teeth told him. "Come on. Help me here. Stand up." And together they managed to get Sam stood under the hot jets with Dean stood behind him holding him up. 'Great Dean you've really thought this one through', he berated himself as he braced himself with Sam's weight leaning back on him as he stood there with his face squashed against Sam's back and his jeans becoming saturated.
The hot water stung Sam's face and shoulders and he 'awoke' from his fugue state realizing he was stood in a shower with Deans arms wrapped around him holding him up. Bizarre was not the word for it but he could think of no other. He grabbed hold of the shower unit hoping it would not come off the wall and managed to stand by his own power, his other hand braced against the wall.
Dean noticed the difference and let go of him, stepping back slightly but ready to catch him again if he should fall. He watched waiting but found his eyes drawn to the water running over Sam's shoulders and down his back. He followed the course downwards and over the tight ass then watched as the last of the grime was washed away. As Sam was rinsed clean, Dean found his fingers reaching out to touch him just between his shoulder blades and slowly travel down alone his spine to the hollow of his back.
Sam felt his knees go weak once more and held on desperately to the wall as it was nothing to do with being injured or tired. Could it really be that his brother might harbour the same kind of thoughts that he had found himself having? He dared not move. He did not want the fingers to stop touching him. He did not want Dean to stop touching him.
A hand on his hip and he felt Dean lean against him as a hand came around and turned off the shower. He could feel Dean's breath on his shoulder and leant back ever so slightly, his eyes closed, biting down on his bottom lip as, with everything he had, he wished Dean would hold him, surround him and, touch him.
"Come on, Sammy. Time to dry off," low in his ear. And Dean stepped out of the tub holding onto Sam's arm, pulling him with him. He could not look him in the eye even if Sam had not turned his face away. He grabbed the towel off the rail and was going to hand it to Sam and leave then Sam's shoulder blades were moving and a runnel of water between them made him suck in his breath and wince.
Sam dared not turn around. There was no way he was going to let Dean see the affect he had had on him. He would never live it down. He dropped his head and now wished to be alone. He turned his head slightly, listening for the tell tale noises of Dean's retreat but instead felt the towel touch the nape of his neck and slowly, gently rub across to a shoulder then back. He let Dean continue but everything in him wanted to turn around and to grab hold of him. To hold on to him and never, ever, let go.
Dean continued drying Sam's neck but a rivulet of water kept running down from the dark hair and he found himself fascinated. He would watch it track down over the reddening skin then dry it again. He did not know how long he would have continued if Sam had not turned to look at him, twisting at the waist. He glanced up mutely to see the answering expression.
That was it. Sam could not take it any longer with that look in those clear green eyes as Dean stood there silently gazing up at him. Sam finally turned completely around and lifting his hands cradled Dean's head, pulling him close and kissed him. Full on the mouth, no more hesitating, no more wondering, he demanded.
And Dean responded. As Sam kissed him, he kissed Sam. As Sam's tongue sort and found entry, he met him force for force and he let himself be captured and held as Sam's arms moved to hold across his back. Straight away he knew who was in command here and after watching over Sam for all this time, after always taking charge and telling him what to do, he gave it all up in this instant and would follow his younger brother wherever he wanted to take him.
A hand in his hair pulling his head back and to the side none too gently and Dean closed his eyes, licking his lips as Sam kissed his neck, his throat, then bit at that place below his ear which had gotten so much attention before. Then he had ended the contact but not now, only, Sam held him too tight on his side and it hurt. "Sammy, please," he pleaded. All he got was a groaned out "Dean" as Sam swung him around and pushed him back against the wall.
He gasped out as pain shot up and down his side and he pushed at Sam hands on his shoulders. "Please, Sam. Stop.!" Half an hour ago he was weak as a kitten, now he was pushing him into walls!
The last thing Sam wanted to do was stop. He had Dean in his arms, kissing him, holding him, way beyond any imaginings he'd had. He dragged himself away to stand leaning on the wall, palms on either side of Dean's chest and stared up at him hard from under brows, his breathing causing his chest and shoulders to rise and fall at the effort of stopping, of not just carrying on no matter what Dean wanted.
Dean had never seen that look on Sam's face before, the eyes were fierce. It turned him on big time, it was so full of lust and it was all aimed at him. He put fingers to Sam's face, a thumb rubbing across his lips. He studied his mouth and suddenly knew what he wanted. His thumb dipped inside and he pushed further, watching as Sam gently bit down on it, his tongue coming into play and Dean was as hard as he had ever been.
His hips came forwards and he spoke in a voice heavy with longing, "Please, Sam. Be careful." Sam gave no response other than closing his mouth and he began to suck on Dean's thumb making him push himself onto Sam. He spoke again before he lost the ability. "Sam just please be gen…careful with me. My side, you were hurting my side."
Sam blinked and the look Dean had relished fled from his face. He stood back pulling Dean's hand away from his mouth but held onto it as he looked concerned down at the bruising. How could he have forgotten so easily? Shaking his head, "Dean. I'm so sorry. I don't want to.."
He was not allowed to finish as Dean pulled his head down, kissing him with strength and passion. He wanted that look back on Sam's face, not a concerned one and he wanted those large hands on him. Breaking back he whispered, "Just be careful. This time," and gave Sam his best lusty grin.
He was rocked back to the wall and hands were at his waist, unfastening the cold clammy jeans which he thought should be steaming considering how hot he felt. Sam kissed him again and Dean met him as hands entered his pants and, circling on to his hips, pushed down, freeing him from the confines of wet denim. His tongue surged into Sam's mouth, one hand thrusting into his hair pulling his head forwards, the other travelling down his back to grasp his brother's arse, so firm and tight in his grip.
Sam had thought that Dean was calling a halt to this when he had spoken. But now Dean was as hard as he had made him, starting with that single touch to his spine. His hands were still on Dean's hips and he pulled them to meet his own, shifting and rubbing. He could hardly breathe. Dragging his lips away, he leant his forehead on Dean's and paused, just breathing in the essence of him and felt rather than saw that grin appear again.
Hand still in his hair, Dean pulled Sam's head back wanting to see that expression again. He was right, it was back and eyes dropping to that mouth, he encouraged his head down. Sam smiled, he got the hint but was going to take his time. He was going to enjoy the journey. He kissed just beside Dean's mouth then moved to his jaw, under his ear and down his neck. His mouth opened and closed on Dean's skin, sucking, nipping, licking and biting his way down, across a shoulder then in towards a nipple, hard and erect under his tongue.
Hand remaining in Sam's hair, Dean had to relinquish his hold on that ass as Sam descended to crouch on the wet floor before him. His mouth was dragging across Dean's stomach then a tongue licking down his middle to circle his navel. His hips were pulled even further forwards as Sam spent time sucking on his belly, tongue now playing in the line of hairs, his chin and cheek lightly catching on Dean's very attentive prick.
His shoulders pushing into the wall, Dean held onto the sink with his free hand for support as he felt himself falling. It was not physical but he was falling none the less. His hand clenched in Sam's hair. His brother was teasing him so badly, his hands on the back of his legs now, holding tight to one of the few places that did not hurt, fingers spread pressing up into his butt. He thrust forwards as he could not take this much longer.
Leaving one hand clasping a leg, Sam dragged the other around and very gently touched Dean's ball sack causing him to lurch, practically knocking him over and, taking mercy on him, Sam knelt ignoring the cold of the wet towel and floor and finally took him inside past his lips and closed his mouth around Dean's prick.
This feeling, Dean could not believe it was coming from someone who over the years had engendered companionship, frustration, impatience, love, sacrifice, jealousy, exasperation, hatred, friendship, comfort and all the other things that only a blood relation could cause and was now bringing him off in this so intimate way. Sam's long fingers were wrapped around the base of his prick as his mouth held him so tightly, sucking him in the hot moistness.
Dean so wanted to thrust in, for Sam to take him all, but in the last few moments that he could, he thought that Sam probably did not know how to do that. Then Dean could think no longer as Sam seriously went to work on him until he came shuddering, collapsing back against the wall, Sam moving with him, not letting up, still sucking him, stripping him then went back to sucking on his belly, fingers holding his spent prick lightly.
"Dean?"
"Umm?"
"Can you let go of my hair now? I'd like to keep some of it attached to my head."
Dean looked down into the smiling face as he realised Sam's hair was still clutched tightly in his fist. He let go and Sam was immediately leaning against him, once more kissing the breath out of his body. Sam's prick was hard, pushing against him and Dean knew he would have to reciprocate but was reluctant. He was not sure that he could do for Sam what he had just done for him. But right now he was still enjoying the aftermath and the feel of Sam pressed against the length of his sensitized body, his lips moving on his own with that hot tongue tasting of himself.
Dean's hands were loosely resting on his hips as Sam pushed against him. He would not stop kissing him. He did not want Sam to stop kissing him and that prick was so hard against his hip. Dean moved a hand and forced it between them to stroke down the length then back up to the engorged head.
The action stopped the kiss as Sam breathed into his ear. "Please, Dean." Sam pushed further into the hold on his cock. Again in Dean's ear, "Please. I want …I want to be inside you."
Dean stilled breathing shallowly, nervously and took time to look Sam in the eye. His hands both came up and around to lie flat on Sam's surprisingly broad chest, pushing him back slightly then he let his head drop.
Sam kissed him on the cheekbone facing him and put fingers to that place, on his brother's jaw below his ear, that he loved and waited though it was torturing him. After a seeming eternity, Dean asked, "You …. want to move to the bed?" sounding meeker than Sam thought he had ever heard him before.
Sam did not want to let him go, he wanted him now and thought that that question had been permission enough. He tilted Dean's face up and kissed him once more then hands on shoulders, gently encouraged him to turn. He had forgotten the jeans and quickly bent to get his feet out of them then stood breathing deeply and, savouring the look of uncertainty on the freckled face, turned Dean to the wall, moving up behind him, wrapping his arms around the solid torso, one hand up to his neck, one pressing down onto his belly.
Sam was kissing his neck, his shoulder and Dean covered the hands with his own. He closed his eyes telling himself that this was fine, that he would be okay. Sam was leading the way and that was good for he knew he would not hurt him but he just hoped that his little brother knew what he was doing or else he was sure this would be painful. But no more time for thoughts as he felt Sam moving against him, the hand sliding from his belly.
Dean leant his forehead on the cool wall, hands going up to press either side as he heard the tap run briefly then soapy fingers were feeling, then rubbing at his arse hole. The hand left his neck to surround his chest as he felt the first tentative intrusion. It was Dean's turn to bite at a lip as a finger gently but insistently pushed at his rim, stilled then found its way past the tightness. He needed Sam's arm around him to hold him up as the action was making him weak. The finger was moving, massaging inside of him and he pushed out backwards at the inclusion of a second finger stretching him, readying him, his breathing shallow and nervous.
Dean had stilled, wrapped in his arm. Sam kissed the nape of his neck then licked at an ear making him moan a little as he stretched him with his fingers. He pulled them out and quickly, not being able to wait any longer, lined himself up and, the tip of his weeping cock pressing against the reddened entrance, he pushed in.
Dean's groan was echoed by one of his own as Sam stilled waiting then he pushed in as far as he could, his other hand now also wrapped around Dean with hand on his shoulder and Sam pulled Dean back against him. He had dared to dream of this but it was nothing close to the real thing, he could never have imagined just what it was to feel himself embedded within Dean. To feel his firm body pushing back against him, to hear his brother moaning in such a way.
Dean had never dreamt that he would experience anything like this. That he would ever want to have some man fuck him and certainly not Sammy who pushed into him again, practically lifting him from his feet. He leant an arm on the wall and pressed his check against it, his other hand reaching up to hold on to Sam's arm crossing his chest.
Sam was kissing him again and Dean was glad. He did not think now that he would ever be able to get enough of Sam kissing him. He was so damned good at it. At all of this, the way he was making him feel, the way he was getting him to do this, to get him to let him fuck him in the arse and to enjoy it. And he was, his prick becoming harder with each thrust and he pushed Sam's arm down, pushed his large hand onto his prick and immediately Sam knew what he wanted.
How did Sammy know how to do all this stuff? Dean was being filled up from behind, the thrusts getting quicker, reaching places that were making his whole body react, rocking him and Sam's hand was holding him just right, as he was pushed, he pushed into that encircling grip. Another kiss to his shoulder, a bite, then Sam's face was next to his, his breath on his cheek, his lips.
Sam shifted them both, his free hand moving to hold onto the back of Dean's shoulder and then he thrust deeper, harder feeling his brother lift onto the balls of his feat then push back onto him. He wanted to continue for ever, the heat around him, the resistance, all making him want to get even deeper, to be inside Dean forever, to be with him always, to be one with him The feeling was overwhelming both physically and emotionally. And for that brief moment, the intensity building as if it would never end but just consume him, Sam knew it was possible that they were one and this would not end. Then he came so hard it tore a groan from the depths of his soul, holding onto Dean so tightly that he left bruises of his own.
Brief pain as Sam's hand held his prick just too tight for that instance that he felt himself filled then, as the hand left him to clutch hard at his hip, Dean too felt the release as if Sam had been holding him in. His breathing was harsh gasps, his hands clutching at cold tile either side of his face and still Sam had him tight, pinned to the wall then another thrust as Sam held his breath then let it go. Let it all go as he collapsed, leaning on Dean, slipping from him and causing him to shudder and spill his last but not letting him go. Never letting him go. Not now, not ever. Dean had always belonged to Sam. Dean had known that from the first time he had looked down at him in the hospital. Maybe now Sam would know it too.
Sam could have stayed like this, with the feel of the firm body once more wrapped in his arms warm against his skin, his lips pressing into his brother's neck but cold was intruding. He shifted slightly, his foot touching a sopping wet towel. It brought him back. He stood straight, releasing his brother but still would not let go. His hands slid down Dean's sides, holding him gently now by the hips. Sam saw the discolouration on his brother's body afresh and Dean was still leaning, palms against the wall, breathing deeply but silent and still. He worried then that he had hurt him, that this had not been for Dean as it had been for himself.
For Sam it had been wonderful, more than he had imagined, more than he could have hoped for and now, afterwards, he felt at peace for the first time in so long. He felt contented. But Dean had not moved. He tightened his grip on his hips and spoke his name softly. Dean just ducked his head. Now he really worried. "Dean? What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Yes. No. He didn't know. Yes because Sam had done things to him that had made him forget everything except the feel of his body against him, had held him. He held on to him so tightly that Dean knew he was needed, that Sam had needed him so much and in a way that was new. And no, because he was sure what they had just done was so wrong, in so many ways, but it had felt so right, so natural for them, for him to let Sam have his way. But he needed something for himself now.
A hand moved up his back into his hair and Dean sighed, his head turning as he turned and without looking at him, not wanting Sam to see his face, he embraced him, hugging him and buried his face in Sam's neck then held on to him as if to life. But then, Sam was his life.
Sam continued to play in Dean's hair, holding him as he was held but tried to see his face but Dean would not allow it. Every move he made to encourage Dean to look at him, to speak to him was ignored as he just continued to push his face into his neck so Sam just held him, fingers stroking the nape of his neck, rubbing through the short but soft hair and rested his cheek on top of Dean's head. But he was cold.
It was seeping up from the floor. Sam's own hair still wet, his body still wet and now the adrenalin had been used and the added sweat was cooling on his body, he could not help but shiver. He noted that Dean too was shivering. "Come on," Sam spoke tenderly into his ear, "Let's get into bed." And he just hoped that Dean's reluctance to speak to him, to even look at him was not a sign that this had been a mistake, that Dean was not regretting what they had done. He clung to the thought that Dean was clinging to him, so surely it would be okay, they would be okay?
Dean let Sam led him from the bathroom, by the hand, as he silently followed. This was so surreal. Sam was leading him, Sam was the one that was bending to pull back the covers on the bed and it was Sam that guided him in then stood there looking down at him. Damn. What was wrong? Why wasn't he getting in with him?
He could not stand this. This was not him. Dean Winchester did not act like this. He was the one that took control. He was the one that had to constantly watch over the other. It was Dean that always made the final decision if Sam liked it or not. What had Sam done to him? But he guessed he knew.
Sam had always needed him, to care for him, to teach him, to comfort him and to be there for him all their lives. As they had gotten older and Sam had become much more adept at fending for himself, had learnt to fight and recently, since his 'return' had been becoming much harder, stronger and needed Dean less and less. And although it was true that he had had to rescue Sam from that shack today, it was also true that if it was not for Dean, he would not have been there in the first place to need rescuing. Sam was having to become independent because his older brother was becoming a liability. Soon Sam would be on his own. They knew it and Sam was clinging on and letting Dean become his weakness. Sam had always been Dean's.
Now Dean too was clinging on. He had let Sam take control of him against his nature because he obviously wanted him and whatever Sam wanted he got because that way Dean was still useful. Sam still needed him. A different way, a different need, but he still needed him and that was all Dean was here for. He had always only been here for Sam. From the moment the baby had looked at him he had been caught but then their father had put him in his arms charging him to watch out for him and that was it.
But now he needed. Dean wanted and Sam was just looking at him. Why could his brother not know what he needed? It was such a simple thing, he thought he would have done it without thinking about it.
Sam did not like this one bit. There was something happening here he was uncertain of. Dean never acted like this. Looking at his attitude now, he was on his side, leaning on a bent arm, watching as the fingers of his left hand played with his ring.
Sam could not help but look down the length of him until his knees disappeared under the covers. From this angle he looked perfect. He was, but Sam was so aware of the discolouration that marred his skin. He hated that one, or both of them, was always getting injured but that was the life they led. It was the kind of life that had brought them to this place where he was afraid that he had made his brother do something that he regretted. Dean looked like he was ashamed and he shouldn't be because, as usual, it was all his fault. Sam's fault.
He sat on the bed, fingers stroking across Dean's cheek and he was about to say something about being to blame, that he would never ask him to do anything like this again, when Dean finally looked up at him. The look stole Sam's breath. He saw in that look everything that they had ever meant to each other and a longing, a yearning that made his throat tighten and his core weep. He swung his body around, sliding into the bed next to him and then he was on Dean, kissing him as if it was what he needed to be able to breathe, what he needed to live. =====
tbc...