Sam pretended like it was an accident, a slip of the tongue, the first time it happened. He'd actually been planning, waiting for the exact right moment for weeks. He knew that if he didn't time it carefully, he might lose what had rapidly become his favorite thing about his relationship with Dean.
So he waited until Dean was in a playful mood, high off of adrenaline and a hunt that shouldn't've gone nearly as well as it had. Then he elbowed Dean, right in his side where he was real ticklish though he'd never admit it, and said, "Jerk."
"Bitch." The response was instantaneous, automatic, and the horror in Dean's eyes as he realized what he'd just said, in front of Dad, was just as immediate.
But Dad didn't look up from the handgun he was cleaning. "Boys. Behave," was all he said.
"Yessir." Their response, in perfect unison, was another convenient autopilot feature.
Sam grinned at his older brother who was white as a sheet, more terrified than Sam had ever seen him. Dean glared.
When they were alone together that night—Dad off meeting another hunter in the local bar—Sam thought he was going to have to explain himself. He'd been practicing what he'd say, how he'd get it through to Dean.
"I just thought it'd be nice," he'd say, letting his bangs fall over his face as though he was ashamed of himself. "I just wanted us to have a way to say "you look so fucking hot today," or "I wish we were fucking right now," or, I don't know, "I love you" in public."
But when Dean kissed him, drawing Sam into his lap, all soft and solid, Sam knew he didn't have to say anything. Dean understood.
"Fuck, Sammy," Dean hissed into his hair, running his hands up and down Sam's back. "Nearly gave me a heart attack."
Sam just grinned. He knew that Dean wasn't actually complaining, just filling his obligatory grousing quota.
"Liar." Sam nipped at Dean's ear. "I saw your fucking hardon."
Dean smiled, his gaze unfocused, happy. "Yeah, there's that too."
"I can take care of that for you. Y'know … If you're not still in danger of a major coronary inci—" Sam sucked in a sharp breath as Dean grabbed his cock, palming it through his jeans.
"Fucking tease."
All of a sudden it was really important that Sam get his fucking jeans off, Dean's too. He retrieved the bottle of lube from a pocket and fumbled the button fly open.
"Need a little help?" Dean looked just a little too smug, sitting perfectly still, hands on Sam's hips, watching his little brother struggle.
"Jerk."
Dean leaned in, wrapping Sam up until he was surrounded on all sides by his big brother's heat, his familiar scent.
"Bitch," Dean breathed. Sam shivered at the sensation of Dean's breath on his skin.
Sam wasn't sure how his jeans, which had been giving him so much trouble, and Dean's, which he hadn't even touched yet, disappeared so quickly, but he wasn't complaining when he was finally straddling Dean's naked lap, cocks pushed together between their bare torsos.
Dean gripped Sam's ass, pulling just a little, exposing him to the cool air. Sam hissed, bucking forward, rutting against Dean. So fucking good.
"Dean," Sam hissed.
Even though he was leaning down, face tucked against Dean's neck, he could tell Dean was grinning as he grabbed the lube. Sam jumped as Dean drizzled the cold liquid down the crack of his ass.
"Shit, that's cold. Bastard." Sam leaned forward, away from the icy trickle, riding up hard against Dean's cock.
Dean just chuckled, holding Sam still, hands spanning from Sam's hips to brush the dimples above his ass, as he thrust upward. Sam moaned, cock twitching hard against Dean's, trapped between their bodies. It had always been like this—each of them teasing the other—because, even in bed, they were still brothers.
Dean tapped a finger against Sam's entrance, letting the tip dip in just a little, slick with cold lube, and Sam jumped, digging his nails into Dean's back.
"That's right, Sammy, bear down a little for me," Dean's voice was rough, excited. "Let me in."
Sam whimpered. The sound was involuntary, but the reaction it garnered from Dean cancelled out any embarrassment it may have caused. Dean growled, tugging Sam closer, pressing a finger into Sam's body, twisting and thrusting.
Sam pressed back against Dean's hand. Fuck, he loved the feeling of Dean inside him. Dean drew out slowly, purposefully catching the rim. Sam shivered. Dean always prepped him slowly, afraid to hurt him, and Sam let him—it wasn't like fingering wasn't pleasurable—but he didn't usually need it. And, just then, one finger wasn't gonna cut it.
"Enough," Sam took the lube, drizzling the cold liquid over Dean's cock between them. He leaned in and kissed Dean, jacking him, twisting his fist over the crown where it was wet with precome, slicking Dean up.
Sam leaned back so that he could watch Dean's face as his lined his brother up and sank down just a little. It was his turn to tease. Before Dean's cock breached the ring of muscle, Sam rocked upward. He moved slowly, taunting, getting so close to penetration and then pulling back. Dean groaned.
"Sammy," Dean reprimanded, low and threatening.
The next time Sam sank down, he let Dean inside him finally, almost let the head enter fully, but he pulled away at the last second. Dean bucked upward, but Sam had pulled away just in time and the head of Dean's cock caught his rim and then glanced off making them both moan.
Sam smirked, worrying Dean's jawline with his teeth, fucking Dean's cock between his ass cheeks.
"Bitch." Dean's voice was tight.
Sam pulled back to smile sweetly and press his lips gently to Dean's. "Jerk," he let his tongue click hard on the k, still teasing.
But he could tell Dean was about to get truly irritated so Sam reached back to guide his brother in. He sank down, breath hitching a little as he finally let Dean inside him, until he felt the slight catch as his body closed around the head of Dean's cock.
Dean murmured his approval, drawing Sam back in for a kiss. Sam took advantage of the distraction to lift up until Dean almost slipped out of him and then drive himself down hard until Dean was seated, balls deep, inside him.
"Shit! Motherfucking fuck, Sam," Dean's hips stuttered. He bit Sam's bottom lip, sucking into his mouth and winding his hands into Sam's hair, pulling just a little, just the way Sam liked it.
Sam rode Dean hard, swiveling his hips at the bottom of every down stroke, drawing little breathless noises from his brother that he knew Dean would deny to his dying day, until he was shaking. Dean made no effort to control the pace, tugging at Sam's hair and nipping Sam's neck and shoulder, but not moving his hips.
As Sam's thighs began to feel the burn of the repetitive motion, he realized Dean was purposefully being uncooperative; paying him back, tease for tease. And, oh, Sam was going to make sure Dean thought twice about doing that again.
Sam fumbled over Dean's chest, hands trembling, unable to see through the mess Dean was making of his hair, and rubbed his palms over Dean's nipples, pinching them lightly. He clenched the muscles of his ass sharply at the bottom of each stroke; Dean was practically panting, moaning a sweet stream of fuckyeahSammysogoodlittleboy goodbitchfuckingloveitsonofa bitchSamfuck into Sam's mouth. He was close; Sam knew all the signs: thighs trembling, pulling Sam's hair just a little too hard, more breathing into Sam's mouth than kissing anymore—wet and dirty.
Sam pressed a kiss to the corner of Dean's mouth, gently sinking down until Dean was buried in him, keeping his breathing as even as possible though it felt as though every nerve end was on fire. Dean had frozen, his entire body tensed up; Sam could feel Dean's cock twitching deep inside him. Sam dug his fingernails into Dean's back, steeling himself as he exhaled shakily, relaxing his entire body to let Dean sink into him completely.
Dean seized, his entire body arching up against Sam, mouth open soundlessly as he came. And fuck, Dean was so deep inside him, hot and hard and fucking twitching. All Sam needed was the involuntary bucking of Dean's hips, and the chance brushing of the head of his cock over Dean's stomach to send him over the edge.
He barely registered the breathless "Sammy, fuck. So beautiful, baby," as Dean finally pitched in, rocking his hips up, working Sam through his orgasm.
It was only after the last wave of spasms had rolled through him that Sam registered how sweaty they both were, how he could smell Dean's sweat on him, how they were kissing open-mouthed and messy, how slick he was inside, Dean's come trickling out of him.
"I love you." The admission was nearly inaudible; it was the only time Dean said it—outright like that—in the fuzzy post-orgasm high.
Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's torso, cuddling close. Dean returned the embrace, holding Sam, still buried inside Sam's body.
"Love you too."
"Even if you're a fucking tease." Dean nipped Sam's ear, lapping into it until Sam giggled and pulled away.
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
Looking at Dean, Sam knew his older brother truly believed what he had said about the name. Dean really believed that Sam was smart enough, beautiful enough, and, fuck him for using the word, sassy enough to make anyone jealous; that they were enough together to warrant the envy of the entire world. Sam wasn't convinced that the boys who'd tortured him with it did it because they were in the closet, but Dean fucking was. And that was enough.