Obsession 3

Dean was standing in the middle of the room, naked, hard and staring straight at Sam.

"Dean."

He looked at his little brother. Sam looked rode hard and put away wet, sweaty and flushed, hair flicking out at the ends, hazel eyes wide and full of lust. He was still fully clothed, but his jeans were unbuttoned, and hung off his hips.

Dean wanted to pull them off with his teeth. He wanted to lick every inch of Sam, slow, but thorough. He wanted to debauch his brother.

Oh god. His brother. The snot nosed kid he'd watched grow up. He was wrong, fucked up. He couldn't let this happen. What would his father say? What would Bobby say? Hell, what would anyone he'd ever known say?

All Dean had to do was run, he wanted to run. Find a bar, a warm body - maybe try and deal with the fact that his brother had tied him up and held him hostage.

And Dean was far less freaked out than he should have been. He should have been running for the door, not entertaining the thought of throwing his brother onto the bed and taking him right there, licking Sam's collarbone, and other places, watching as he threw his head back, eyes half closed in ecstasy as Dean prepped him one finger at a time. Sam would complain, claiming to be ready, but Dean would take his time anyway, enjoying the view too much to give it up, Dean fucking into Sam slow, and easy, Sam on his back, long legs wrapped around Dean's waist. They'd exchange kisses, Sam would lose coherency and the ability to move his mouth and wind up just panting into Dean's mouth, Dean whispering I love you and You didn't have to tie me up to make me see. And Sam would nod, and moan and gasp, and it wouldn't be fucking. It would be making love.

Then, after, when they were sweaty and sated, he'd show his brother how to really give a blow job, teasing him back to full hardness before a second round, Dean setting a brutal pace, while Sam

clung to him. Dean would nail his prostate dead on every time. He would shake the bed, he would break the bed, he would watch Sam's face as Dean reached down, wrapping one hand around Sam's dick as he moved. Sam would be loud, judging from the breathy moans he gave jerking himself off earlier.

Dean would make him scream.

He decided that he needed clothes before he did something he might regret. He grasped a pair of underpants - his bag was where he had left it all those nights before - when his brother had drugged him and jerked him off. It as no mean feat getting dressed with a hard on, but he managed. Sam had just stood and watched, wringing his hands and opening his mouth - but no words were coming out.

Sammy didn't know what he was doing. Of course, Dean had tried Christo, he'd tried the vague exorcisms he'd pulled from the deep dark recesses of his memory. Nothing had any effect.

He knew Sammy had the anti-possession tattoo, but maybe it hadn't been working. Or those fuckers had found a way to subvert it. There was no way Sam could want him - it just wasn't possible.

Sam wanted normal, safe. He wouldn't get it in this relationship.

But maybe… No. It was impossible.

But Sam had instigated this, talked about how much he wanted his brother time and again. Hell, he'd… well they'd done stuff Dean had never heard of brothers doing before.

And the way Sam's eyes were flickering to his cock, how he had licked his lips… Well, Dean was never one to pass up a challenge.

"So, Sammy. How long exactly had you been planning on keeping me tied up? Cos, you know. I wasn't very comfortable I have to be honest. I mean, look."

Dean held out his wrists - bruised and battered from where he had pulled at them trying to get free.

Sam had plastered himself against the wall.

"Dean," he babbled, " I didn't mean to hurt you, please believe me that's the last thing I would have done, I love you De, please don't leave me, I know I was stupid, it won't happen again, just please."

Dean reeled. Sammy thought he was going to leave? A flash of annoyance - after everything they'd been through? He brushed off the irritation - he was more worried. Why was Sam acting like this? He was so needy. Sam was still stammering platitudes and ridiculous pleas.

Dean needed to shut him up. He stalked forward, Sam pushing himself back against the wall, flinching away, still muttering.

Dean stopped in front of him. Sam avoided his gaze. He grasped his little, taller, brothers chin and forced him to look straight at him.

Sam's eyes were full of tears. Dean's heart caught. He never wanted to be the source of his brother's tears.

He leant forward, slowly so Sam wouldn't mistake what he was doing. Softly, he pressed his lips to his little brothers forehead.

Sam gaped at him.

"I know you're into some kinky stuff Sam, but tying me up was a little too hardcore - even for me. Give me some time."

He grinned at his brother, before turning and walking out the door in measured steps. His legs were twitching with the effort not to run as fast as he could.

He shut the door behind him calmly, before collapsing on the seat of his baby. He glanced at his hands. They were red and raw from the handcuffs, and where he'd put his whole weight on them in an attempt to break them - it had worked, but it'd take a while for them to heal.

More importantly, they wouldn't stop shaking.