A/N: Thanks, Isaac for your help on the Greek mythology. You are a gem, my friend and as payment, Jace is now James and for anyone interested, he's around 34 years old.
*
*
Dean rocks back like he just got slapped in the face. He shakes his head, sure he heard Sam wrong, sure that his brother's gonna laugh and say "Gotcha!" and they'll have a good chuckle about it and he waits, holding his breath but Sam just stares at him, eyes huge, watchful, studying Dean like he's a bomb that's going to explode at any second.
Holy shit, Sam's fucking serious and this is real, it's -
Jesus, all this time, he'd thought he'd been Sam's first…just like Sam had been his…he didn't know that Sam had been with another…
"A man professor? You had an affair in college with a guy? What the hell, Sam? I thought you'd never-"
Dean trails away and he tries again, feeling ridiculously hurt, "Holy shit, I thought I was the only-"
The words are gone again and he blinks back sudden tears, pain slicing through him as the fucking truth of it hits him deep and raw, ripping him, leaving him gasping with it, his heart twisting, breaking and he's cold, shivering, barely able to catch his breath. He motions weakly in the air with a hand and it falls back into his lap, fist clenching and unclenching as he feels the stirring in his belly, something hot and black and huge-
It's jealousy, flaring into boiling rage quicker than he can blink. He opens his mouth and shuts it fast, not sure what he wants to say but cutting it off before the awful, venomous hurt spills out of him and he growls out words that will slice Sam wide open and damage them for good. He can't let himself speak, can barely think right now because the betrayal he feels, dealt from Sam's hand is too much to bear, too hard and sharp and he turns to slide off the bed, to get away, tries to stand but can't, his legs won't work so here he sits, breathing in great whoops of air and staring a hole into the floor, lost in the hurt of it.
"Dean. DEAN." Sam's on his knees in front of him, grip on his shoulder like iron, hurting and digging in, "Look at me!"
Dean shakes his head, not able, can only stare at the floor between them, and there's a quaking inside his gut, hot and heavy, trembling, rolling as the gash in his heart tears wider, making him weak as a kitten and Sam's sure done this one up right, managed to break him in places Hell never could and well done, Sam, good job.
There's a buzzing in his head, building in volume, so loud now he can't hear anything else and it surrounds him, protects him from the sharp hurt of here, now and he barely feels the hot hands grip his face, forcing his head up. Sam is there, crouched in front of him, talking to him but he's blocking him out now, heard everything you had to say, Sam, don't wanna hear no more, he tries to pull away but Sam won't let go, holding him there fierce, making Dean look at him.
He wants to stay in this safe place and Sam won't fucking let him!
Dean's voice is guttural, "Get off me, you son of a bitch!" and he pushes at the hands on him, managing to turn his face away.
Sam holds on tight, "No, Dean! No!"
He's wrestling Dean, fighting to keep him there, to make him listen but Dean's had enough, he knows his limit and he's reached it, if he doesn't get out now, he's gonna pummel Sam unconscious because he wants to hit something so fucking bad, make something bleed for this because this…just isn't fair, God damn it! Not now! Not the fuck now, not after all they've been through to get them here!
Strength flows back in him and he's up on his feet, shoving at Sam, knocking him on his ass and Dean would've stopped to laugh at the look on Sam's face if he hadn't been so close to fucking crying and he's searching the floor for pants, swearing when he can't find any and dragging out the duffle bag, yanking on jeans and t-shirt-
Sam is up and grabbing for him, hands reaching out to stop him and Dean snarls at him, smacking his hand away with a hard fist and suddenly, he's outside, on the beach, with no recollection of how he got there, gasping and wuffling in the cool night air, the roar of the ocean surf matching his roiling insides.
One foot in front of the other, keep going, just keep going, can't think, can't think right now, just hurts, hurts too damn much and fucking Sam-
Sam's not his, not anymore, he's used, belongs to someone else and how the fuck is he supposed to deal with this? It's unreasonable, selfish of him to have expected Sam to save himself but damn it all to hell, he'd led Dean to believe…
He thinks back to the first time, in the tent, when he had taken Sam, buried himself deep inside of his brother, finally letting Sam see, letting Sam know how much Dean loved and shit, it seemed like it was brand new, like Sam had never…
That's the real crux of it right there. Sam lied to him, lied, right to his fucking face and now he's questioning every emotion, every word they'd spoken, every look of passion, of desire on Sam's face because it wasn't real, none of it, it was all a freaking act!
Son of a bitch had lied to him!
The one person he trusted above all others just cut him down, right at the fucking knees and now he's staggering under the weight of it and he can't help it, the fucking voice in his head is needling at him, twisting it's jagged edge into his gut, whispering-
Sammy, was he a better lover than me? Did he make you whimper and moan like I do, did he lick you, taste you all over like I do? And the last, the worst, Did you love him more than me?
His shoulders slumped and head down, Dean trudges on down the beach, kicking up the sand behind him, the moon following him worriedly, casting trembling shadows down onto him, lighting his way.
Did you love him more than me, Sam?
Suddenly, he's down in the sand, tripped up by something wrapped around his feet and he glares back behind him, sees the fishing poles he's just yanked off their perches, their lines twisted around his ankles.
"Hey, there!" a voice shouts at him and he's trying to untangle himself, pulling at the cords wrapped around him and hands are helping, a burly man kneeling next to him, the owner of the fishing poles, "Ought to be watching where you're going. Bunch of us fish at night so keep your eyes open. There you go."
Dean's voice is husky with unshed tears, "Sorry…sorry."
And the man puts out a hand, helping him to his feet, "No worries - not the first time, won't be the last neither, so no harm done. Have a good night." And he expertly begins untangling the lines, resetting the poles and goes back up to his chair and his cooler, giving him a wave as Dean turns back up the beach, going back the way he came.
One hundred feet down the beach and the kindness of the man hits Dean hard, making his lower lip tremble and without warning, without any fanfare, a fat tear rolls down his cheek and shit, he's so fucking stupid, so fucking weak!
Another wet drop slides down his face and he lets out the breath he's been holding, putting his head down and letting it out, the black lump that's lodged in his chest feeding the flood, and it helps to let it out, because the rock hard of it loosens, lessens and he's finally able to take in a deep breath, swiping at his eyes with a sleeve and wiping away the snot dripping from his nose. He pounds his fist onto a knee-
Goddamn! Just fucking goddamn!
*
Sam finds him sitting in the driveway, in the parked Impala, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, eyes staring straight ahead at something only Dean can see. The passenger door is unlocked and Dean hears it open, hears Sam settle in next to him but can't look at him, can't stand to see the brother who betrayed him. His eyes are red and swollen and the tears are still close but for the moment, he's under control, the hurt inside of him simmering just under the surface, pushed down for right now and he's cold, so cold and dead inside.
They sit in heavy silence, the muffled rhythm of the surf outside rolling under them, trying to soothe and the sounds of their breathing mingle together, broken only by nervous movement, the slide of jeans on leather seats, sweaty hands wiping off on denim-clad thighs, shuffling bare feet on gravel-covered floor mats, the hard click of a swallow-
The silence is deafening.
Sam clears his throat, stuttering over the words, his voice cracked and breaking with the strain, "It was–it was when I first went to college, the first two months I was there, that's where it all started. I was scared and alone and I was fucking missing you so much but I couldn't go back to you, wouldn't go back because Dad – remember he told me not to come back, ever? So there I was, without you for the first time in my whole life and James…" Sam stumbles over the name, "James Carter…he just…reminded me of you, you know? He looked like you, sounded like you and he cared, took the time to see me and realize that I wasn't doing too good. We would go out for coffee after class and talk - we talked a lot actually and it took him a while to let me know he was gay, that he was interested. At first, it freaked me out and I told him I wasn't gay and stayed away from him but I saw him in class, two times a week and he would just stare at me longingly, so sad for me, it seemed and I felt like he really wanted to help me, really cared about me. Never pushed himself at me but I always knew the offer was there-"
Sam takes a deep breath, his voice low, hoarse, "One night, I was watching the news in the Student Commons and I saw a story about a dog that was attacking kids in the neighborhood but the funny thing was, no one had ever seen the dog or heard the dog – it would just appear, attack and vanish. It seemed like something that you and I would have investigated and I almost called you up about it, wanting so much to hunt with you again because I fucking missed you. It was like a hole opened up in me the day I left and stayed there, chewing at me and I couldn't stop missing you."
Sam closes his eyes against the memory, "I called James instead, ended up going to his house and staying overnight with him."
Dean makes a noise in his throat, a gagging, choked sound that has Sam quickly jumping in to explain, "He was so much like you, Dean and I needed to be with you that night, needed it so fucking much and he was all I had-"
The harshness of his own voice surprises Dean, the words ripping out of his gut, cutting into the air, "You could have had me, Sam. All you had to do was pick up the fucking phone and I would've met you anywhere you said, been anywhere you needed me to be." His voice drops to a whisper and he's biting his lip to hold back the words but they come out anyway, almost a sob "Why'd you have to go fuck him, Sammy?"
Sam's grip on his arm is instant, vicious and biting, and Dean cries out at the sudden pain.
"Look at me!" Dean's eyes jerk up to his brother's face and Sam's angry, livid, more pissed off than Dean's ever seen him but it's not directed at Dean, not shooting daggers at him but instead, Sam's ripping himself up inside, and doing a good job of it if Dean's any judge. He knows Sam's guilt-ridden eyes and he's staring right into them now, the self loathing and pain making them glitter with intensity and Sam's snarling out words.
"You listen to me because I want you to understand this if you don't get anything else. I did not fuck him, Dean! Never, I never...you were my first, Dean, the only person I ever let do that to me…the only person I ever did that with. I only wanted you that way, man, I only loved you that way and you need to know that right now! So, don't you EVER –", Sam stops because he's almost shouting now and takes in a deep breath, continuing on in a calmer tone, "Don't think that again, man. It was always you..."
They stare at each other, air sizzling between them, tense and heavy as they assess each other and Sam doesn't blink, doesn't waver but instead firms his jaw and is right there, letting Dean search him for truth. Finally, Dean gives an imperceptible nod and the cloud over them lifts, dissipates and only then does Sam release his arm, Dean's skin already stinging with bruises he knows will be there by morning.
Sam begins again in earnest, trying to get through it fast so he can finish this, "You need to know it all now, no more surprises and no more secrets. That night, we did it through our clothes and I was so freaked out by the fact that I'd been with another man that I didn't go to class for a couple of days. He showed up at my dorm room, wanting to know if I was ok and well, long story short, talked me into trying it again. And I did and it wasn't as scary the second time. So, we'd do that and he'd sometimes give me blow jobs but that was as far as it went. I-I never kissed him, Dean, not once. You were the only one I wanted to-"
Sam closes his eyes, swallows hard and forces himself to continue, "One night, I was feeling guilty that he'd been doing all the work and I tried going down on him and…it was bad, really bad…"
Sam trails off, lost in the memory of that night, his eyes gazing into nothing.
"What-what happened?" Dean's voice is old, rusty.
Sam catches himself, pulls himself back to now and shrugs, simple and easy, "He wasn't you."
Dean narrows his eyes at him, "Tell me."
Sam takes a deep breath in, "I was on my knees, had him in my hand, ready and I- shit, I couldn't open my mouth, I tried to, really tried but I couldn't. He wasn't you and he'd never be you and that's when I realized just how bad it was with me, how I felt about you. I stood up, apologizing over and over again and tried to get out of there with as much dignity as I could but he wouldn't let me go without an explanation. He started asking questions and cornered me into admitting the truth, that I loved you and only wanted to be with you. He was a little freaked out by the fact that it was my brother I had the hots for but even more, he realized I used him as a substitute, knew that's all he would ever be to me, so he stopped it right there, told me to go home, that we couldn't see each other anymore and that was that. I still saw him in class but…he was gone from me, guess I really hurt him but I couldn't lie about it –"
Sam's eyes flicker to Dean's and then away, finding a spot over Dean's head, like he's scared to meet his brother's eyes "It crushed me when he left because then, I didn't even have a poor substitute for you anymore…I didn't have anyone…until Jess. Looking back, I know I loved her eventually but I think I latched onto her so quickly because I was just so fucking lonely."
The silence stretches over them, Sam tense and waiting for Dean's reaction and Dean wants to put Sam at ease, help him out but he's gotta be honest, too and he's not ready to give an answer right now because his thoughts are jumbled, strung out and he's not sure how he feels at the moment because the hurt and anger are still there inside him and he's got to deal with that.
Dean says carefully, "I know you want me to say it's all okay but I can't, not now."
Sam nods, eyes filling with tears as he swallows convulsively, and his gaze hits on Dean's and moves right off again, "Ok. When…uh…when you decide, you'll…uh-"
"Of course I'll tell you, Sam. In the meantime, why don't we concentrate on doing our jobs, huh? Tell me about the case because I heard you on the phone and I know this guy didn't just call you up to rehash good times."
*
James Carter loved Mythology and Folklore, no, he was obsessed with it, finding others who shared his passion through the internet and he spent much of his spare time on his website, creating a place where buyers and sellers of artifacts could come together and barter, verify authenticity and credentials or just communicate and garner information. His particular love was of the Greek Gods and he had spent the past five years hunting for a very private, very exclusive collection, finally tracking it down, finagling and trading his way into owning some of it and once he had it in hand, he'd driven up into the woods, to his old summer camp, where he'd put it all into his cast-iron floor safe, a beast of a thing that could withstand pretty much any damage mother nature, or thieves, could wrought on it.
A week ago, he'd settled down to gloat over his achievement, to lovingly unpack each piece, labeling and marking, sealing and securing, taking his time with it, cataloging the items one by one, a feather from Eros's wing, dried and stiff, a lock of hair from Anteros, brittle and thin, a strand of gut from the bow of Himeros, frayed at the ends and unbendable but still whole, in one piece, a vine said to have belonged to Pothos, brown and weathered, but solid, still firm and the last, the most prized possession…a pipe from the flute rumored to have belonged to the God Pan himself.
It was while he was running his hand slowly, sensuously over the single hollow reed of the panpipe that he'd seen a flash of movement, a blink out of the corner of his eye and then, the sound of hooves clicking on the stone floor and the soft tones of music, fluttering through the air-
*
Dean frowns, narrowing his eyes as he searches through his memory, "Wait, wasn't Pan some sort of reindeer or something?"
"A Greek God, half goat, if I'm remembering my mythology right but I'll need to do some research on it to be sure."
Scoffing with disbelief, Dean snorts, "You sure he didn't see Cupid flying around, too? Sammy, come on!"
Sam gave a half-hearted shrug, "Cupid's Roman, not Greek. Eros is the Greek's version of Cupid and hey, man, I'm just telling you what he said. I'm pretty sure he knows how crazy it sounds which is why he called me, probably thought we'd be the only ones who'd believe him. You remember Sarah, that girl from the auction house?"
"The one you had the hots for?" Dean's voice is low, gruff.
Sam's eyes flick to his and away and he looks down, rubbing a hand on his thigh awkwardly, "Yeah, her. She's friends with James's grad student and she gave them my name, thinking we may be able to help, find out what's really going on."
Dean gives a big sigh, "So I guess we're going to Connecticut, huh?"
"Keane Valley, actually – when he called me, he was still up at his summer camp. We drove near it on our way here, it's part of the Adirondack Mountains, supposed to be beautiful up there, all hiking trails and waterfalls. It should only take us about seven or eight hours to get there."
"We should probably try to get a couple more hours sleep before we head out."
Sam looks like he wants to say something but the words catch in his throat and he's biting on his bottom lip, nodding silently before dropping his head down, letting his long hair conceal him from Dean's watchful gaze.
*
They file into the bedroom, quiet and awkward with each other, neither one wanting to meet the other's eyes and Dean strips off his shirt, moves to unbutton his jeans and stops, darting a quick look at Sam before dropping his hands and crawling under the blanket, pants still on. Sam watches Dean sadly, stands for a moment, head bowed and shoulders slumped before shutting off the light, yanking his own t-shirt over his head and dropping it, climbing into the bed on the other side and laying back. Both men hold themselves stiff, an invisible line drawn between them, not daring to move, balancing on their respective edges, barely breathing.
Dean's heart is pounding out a rhythm in his chest, he's intensely aware of Sam's every breath, every twitch and he doesn't want this between them, this hurt, this unease and even though he's grateful that Sam is still his, he's eaten up with jealousy because that asshole's mouth had been on Sam, his hands had touched his Sammy and Dean just wants to rip him apart, piece by bloody piece, until there's nothing left.
Yeah, that'd go over real big with his brother.
How in hell is Dean supposed to act, especially when Sam revealed everything to the jerk, is he supposed to just act like Sam's brother or will this guy pick up on the fact that they're more than that now? And, what if this dude tries to put the moves on Sam – how the fuck is he supposed to handle that? Dean swears if the guy so much as twitches around Sam, makes any kind of move to touch, he's gonna start losing body parts because Dean knows he won't be able to control this ugliness, this hate rolling up inside him. And Sam's just gonna have to deal.
Sammy…shit, if Dean's this scared, this messed up, he can only imagine what Sam must be feeling right now.
Dean pulls in a deep breath and rolls over, finding Sam's chest with his searching hand, earning a sharp inhale as his fingers brush across Sam's nipple and he rolls his palm across ribs, tugging and urging Sam closer.
A small whimper reaches his ears, the thick hurt of it making Dean's eyes sting with sudden tears and he feels Sam reach out, slipping his arms around and yanking Dean forward to hug him tight, burying his face in Dean's shoulder and Sam stoic resolve breaks and he's shaking into Dean's skin, sobbing into his neck-
"I'm suh…suh…sorry…" Sam's hitching in breath, trying to talk, "Don't want you to ha-hate me, Dean, please don't, don't hate me, man-"
"Sshh, Sammy, I don't, never could, ok?" His hands hold Sam close, petting his hair, "Just, just hurting, that's all but it'll be ok. We've been through worse than this before and we'll make it out of this one, too, you'll see."
Dean feels Sam nod, feels the lips against his skin, the whispered mutter, "Love you…couldn't take it if you weren't with me, need you, Dean…love you so much."
Dean's hands go to Sam's face, pulling him back, away and staring into his huge, soft eyes, fingers caressing Sam's cheeks, wiping at the tears and he leans forward, lips sweeping across that sweet mouth-
Sam's eager, responsive, opening up, letting Dean in but Dean moves more slowly, tentative, unsure, sliding his tongue up against Sam's, soft and easy and Sam doesn't move, doesn't breathe, letting Dean lead where they'll go from here.
He curls his tongue around Sam's, twisting and slipping over it, tasting the delicious flavors in Sam's mouth, the honey tang of it working its way into Dean's brain, flickering through his belly and he pushes closer, opens Sam wider so he can go deep. His hands tighten around Sam's face and his kiss turns rough, hungry and Sam's right there, meeting him on his own terms, giving him payment for the hurt he's suffered-
Dean breaks the kiss and stares at Sam, eyes hot, the lights in them glowing with lust, with desire but he can't, he just can't-
His voice is rough with the lump clogging up his throat, "Sammy, just…I want to but I can't-"
"Dean, let me - please...let me show you how much I-" and Sam is moving down, kneeing Dean's thighs apart and taking up position there, hands going to his brother's jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping and he waits for permission, for Dean to allow because it's Dean that's been wronged.
He reaches down, caresses Sam's hair, letting his fingers trail down the familiar face and God, he loves Sam so much and he can't refuse him this, can't not let Sam try to make it better, to make it right.
He nods, urging Sam forward and his brother closes his eyes, pulling in a deep breath before looking back up at Dean, love shining out of him, "Thank you. Thank you."
And his hands are tugging down Dean's jeans, pulling them off, underwear following and hot hands are on Dean's hips, sliding up and down on his skin, slowly, sensuously, feathering over hip bones and across Dean's lower abdomen, making his skin twitch and roll under Sam's fingers, the sudden flush of heat that rocks through him has him closing his eyes and throwing back his head, moaning over a low growl in his throat.
Sam kisses and licks his way up one thigh and across, just under his belly button, his chin bumping against the tip of Dean's rapidly hardening dick, earning a grunt of pleasure as he nips down the other thigh and hovers, letting Dean wait, tickling over the length of him with his long bangs and Dean's hips buck up towards Sam's mouth, eager for more.
He feels Sam's hand wraps around the base of him, tight heat that works him up from bottom to top, dragging the skin, creating nice, warm friction and Sam's tongue follows, circling the tip and dipping, sliding along the slit and down, then back up to circle again and Dean's making low noises, breath stuttering in his chest and holy fuck, that feels good-
"Sammy, Sammy, God, that's-" The words are cut off with a cry as Sam plunges down, open-mouthed and takes in Dean's whole length, and the hard throb that shoots through Dean's cock at the hot wet engulfing him has him fisting the blankets, biting his lips, the fire in his belly surging up and his eyes pop open, staring down and Sam's eyes are locked on Dean's as he moves his head, lips dragging obscenely slow over Dean's shaft, the tongue inside flicking and dancing along the underside as Dean's thigh muscles tighten, quaking with tension-
Sam lets Dean's cock slide almost out, holding the head of it and sucking hard before opening up, diving back down, moaning in his throat like Dean's the best thing he's ever tasted-
Two more times of that slow, sizzling pull up and down and Dean's ready to explode, body trembling everywhere, nerves on high alert, pinging and slashing and Dean's back is arched, blanket twisted into sweaty balls inside his fists and Sam's taking him higher and higher, that wonderful tongue, that incredibly sensual, erotic fucking tongue that has Dean teetering as it flicks and swirls around him, playing with him, bringing him-
With a whimper, Dean's reaching out, raking his fingers through Sam's hair and gripping tight, moving Sam's mouth faster, bucking his dick up into that sweet, wet hole and Jesus, can't get enough of that hot surrounding him, that fire that's licking at his brain, his gut, faster, fucking into Sam's mouth as hard as he can now and he feels Sam relax and let him, Sam's hands moving up his belly to his chest, fingers rolling gently over his already stimulated skin, over the stiff nipples and that's it-
"Fuck, Sam, I'm-" and over the edge, over the rainbow, exploding and pulsing into Sam's waiting mouth, wave after wave and Sam's sucking him down, swallowing every drop until Dean's done, falling into the pillows, heart pounding, covered in sweat and gasping for breath. Behind closed eyes, he feels Sam licking him clean and then moving up next to him, kissing his shoulder, his cheek, an arm across his chest hugging tight.
When he gets his breath back, he opens his eyes, lets them slide over to Sam's, seeing the love there, the gratitude that Dean let him touch, let him love-
He feels Sam's erection against his leg, Sam's achingly hard but won't ask for Dean's touch, Dean knows he won't because in Sam's mind, he hasn't paid Dean enough yet, hasn't suffered enough yet to make up for this awful pain between them-
So Dean takes care of Sam, in his own way, the only way Sam will let him.
"Sammy-" Dean's voice is hoarse to his own ears, "Touch yourself for me."
Sam looks at him, puzzled but there's a glint of interest in his dark eyes, "Dean-"
"Please, Sam…I want to watch you…make yourself come for me…"
"Come on, man, I don't deserve-"
"Now, Sam." Dean commands, his voice broking no argument and Sam unconsciously responds to it, standing up to shed his clothes, dropping them onto the floor until he's standing naked and gorgeous in front of Dean. With a satisfied smile, Dean scoots backwards, leaning back against the headboard, putting his hands behind his head, and crossing his feet, ready for the show.
"Where do you-?"
"Right here." And he pats his belly, "Sit on me, on my lap, so that I can feel you when you come…want to see everything as it hits you, want to feel it-"
Sam does as he asks, swinging a leg over and sitting on top of Dean's thighs, his cock snug against Dean's balls and when Dean takes his hand, bringing it to his lips to lick a sensous path over the palm, Sam watches with lust-filled eyes, almost drooling at him and there's an answering twitch in his erection that's jumping against Dean's shaft, the movement curling passion through Dean's stomach like a hot snake. Dean lays the wet hand on the base of Sam's dick and smiles into his brother's eyes coaxingly, "Come on, Sammy…"
And Sam moves his hand, slow at first, leisurely stroking up and down, uncomfortable under Dean's intense gaze but soon, losing himself in his own touch, letting his head fall back and his eyes close, mouth parting to exhale gasping breaths as he jerks up and down, faster and faster, thumb running over the head of his dick with each upward pull.
Dean can't believe how stunning, how freaking beautiful his brother is right now, the flush on his cheeks, face pulled into a pain-pleasure grimace, panting out his need into the air between them and just watching Sam's hand move up and down, Sam's cock getting redder and more swollen with each yank up, his hips jerking and thrusting is enough to make Dean's dick sit up and take notice. The feel of Sam against his own dick, fucking amazing, with how his hips are rolling and grinding and Dean's own erection is sudden, swift and his hand wraps around himself, jerking roughly, dragging the skin up and down as he watches his brother glide closer and closer to the edge.
Shit, Sam's close now and Dean's almost there, too, the sounds coming out of Sam, holy shit, the whimpers and moans working out of his chest, almost Dean's undoing, too much for him and he watches Sam snap his wrist, rhythm stuttering, irregular as he's teetering on the ledge and Christ, could this get any fucking hotter?
Dean reaches out a hand to flick Sam's nipples, his other hand flying over his dick, faster, faster and shit, right there, right there-
And Dean erupts, the image of Sam, his hand working himself, so hot, so fucking steamy burned into his brain forever-
He hears a wheeze groan out of Sam right after and he jerks his eyes open, watching as orgasm hits his brother hard, seeing the seed pump out of him, over his brother's hand as Sam bites his lower lip, whispering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
And he's still pulling, almost done, milking the last few drops out of himself before he falls forward, catching himself on the headboard and dripping sweat onto Dean's chest.
It's a full minute before Dean can even think about speaking and then, all he can manage is, "Holy shit, Sammy, that was fucking awesome!"
And Sam is too tired to do anything but agree. He collapses onto the bed and Dean reaches out, pulling him close, hanging onto him for dear life.
"Sammy, just so you understand, if this guy tries to touch you, he's gonna be junkless sooner than he can say Pan's flute."
Sam smiles faintly, nodding and hugging in tighter, needing to be as close to his big brother as he possibly can, "I love you, Jerk."
And Dean's arms tighten as Sam falls asleep, resting his head on Dean's heart and Dean whispers brokenly, "Love you back, bitch."
*