The first sign of sunlight, pulled Sam from sleep. Only, he wasn't exactly in the same position he'd fallen asleep in. That, in itself, wasn't so unusual. But the fact that he was draped halfway over his brother, was a bit... well, he didn't know what to do about that. He was sure, by the steady, deep rhythm of Dean's breathing, that he was still asleep. He didn't want to make any sudden movements that would wake him. But he wanted to extricate himself from the position, for a few reasons.
One, being that his cock seemed to have taken interest in its contact with Dean's body, before his brain was actually aware it was touching him, through his shorts.
From where his head lay, Sam could see Dean's jacket hanging on the chair. And he could see the top of the bottle of whiskey sticking out of the inside pocket. A bottle that Sam knew had been in Dean's bag. The bag he brought into the room last night as Dean left for the bar...
Oh god... Dean had been in the room last night. That was him. He'd heard Sam, and he'd come right after Sam had. He'd made that noise; that shout of ecstasy...listening to Sam's. And judging by the impressive lump that was nudged up against the inside of Sam's thigh, Dean's cock seemed to be just as aware as his own. Maybe their cocks were soulmates. Would that make them cockmates? he wondered, but forced the ridiculous, yet amusing thought, from his head.
Sam stayed perfectly still as he tried to calculate it all in his head. Dean hadn't been avoiding him, by saying he was going to the bar. He'd been avoiding this; trying to shove down what he felt, just like Sam had been. If he'd been disgusted by what he'd heard last night, he wouldn't have been so quick to be so near him, when he got back to the room.
Assuming that his assumptions were correct, he wondered what that should mean. Or rather, what should happen from that point. If Dean actually felt the same way Sam did...do they continue stomping it down? Or do they...do something completely and totally...outrageous?
They'd have to figure that part out, together, because Sam heard the change in Dean's heart rate, indicating that he was awake and aware, now. Sam took a breath, then slowly pushed himself up, to meet Dean's eyes. Their faces were mere inches from each other. Sam watched Dean for signs; good or bad. But Dean seemed to look at him in surprise and awe, and for some reason, that made Sam smile. He watched as Dean's gaze flickered down to Sam's mouth, then back up to his eyes. That was the sign he'd been looking for.
Sam cautiously lowered toward him, giving Dean plenty of time to push him away. If he did, then Sam would know this wasn't going to happen, and he could blame it on sleep; he wasn't fully awake...or something like that. But Dean made no such hesitant moves, and Sam's lips finally met his.
Dean pulled a breath in, through his nose, when Sam's lips pressed against his. He'd woken up with a hard-on that he prayed Sam couldn't feel. But then realized Sam had one, too. And Sam had been awake, making no move to escape, though Dean gave him a decent amount of time before letting it be known that he was up, too. But then Sam was kissing him, and everything was insane and awesome, and completely wrong and absolutely the best thing ever, and so he must still be asleep and dreaming...
Oh well. If it was a dream, he sure as hell was gonna take advantage of it. Dean snaked his arms around Sam's back, pulling him more fully on top of him, and holding him there as they deepened the kiss. Sam groaned against Dean's mouth, as their erections met, and he ground his hips against Dean's, forcing a groan out of the older Winchester. Then he felt Sam tugging on the waist of his jeans, successfully yanking them down, almost halfway down his thighs, which made him have to separate their mouths temporarily. Dean looked at Sam with surprise and a bit of nervousness, and watched as Sam pulled down his shorts, concentrating more on his task, than anything, and straddled Dean. That's when his eyes met Dean's, again.
Their mouths open, panting as they seemed momentarily paused, Sam seemed to be trying to read Dean's expression, and vice versa; as though they both wanted and needed to be sure that this was what they wanted. Well...this, and...more. Dean reached up to cup the side of Sam's face, and when his hand gently settled against his skin, the answer was clear, and Sam was diving back down into the kiss, more hungrily, this time. And Dean felt Sam's large hand wrap around them both, giving both cocks a few, strong strokes, before pulling his hand away, and simply pressing his hips into him.
Slippery from each others precome, their cocks glided alongside each other. They were both moaning into each others mouths, now; the sensation so much better without the restriction of clothing. Dean's hands trailed down to Sam's ass, pressing him more firmly into him, on Sam's downstrokes; Dean's hips pressing up at the same time. Both of them were approaching an embarrassingly quick end, but it felt so good, neither of them wanted to slow down.
But suddenly, Sam was pulling away, slightly, and Dean watched as he pressed two fingers to his mouth, gathering spit on the tips. Dean swallowed at the sight, thinking of what Sam might do next. He wondered if Sam had done this in the shower the night before. But before he got lost in that thought, he felt Sam's hand brush down past his cock, and his head jolted up to look.
"Sam, what-"
"Sshh," Sam looked at him. "Trust me, okay? I want...want you to feel it. Want you to know..." And sure; if Sam could take it, so could Dean, he reasoned. "Just relax, and trust me?" Sam asked again. But now, Sam was moving down the bed. And it took everything in Dean, not to come right there, as Sam's face lowered to his cock.
"Oh Jesus..." Dean breathed as Sam's mouth lowered onto him, about halfway. His hand took hold of the rest of him, while his spit-slick fingers rubbed circles at Dean's entrance. On the first suck, Dean relaxed enough for Sam to press his finger in. He had to pause, when Dean tensed again. But as he resumed the blow job, which, consequently, was somehow not nearly as difficult as Sam thought it would be, Dean relaxed again. It didn't take long to find the bundle of nerves Sam was looking for. "Oh gah-hod!" Dean shouted when Sam pressed against it, giving a hard suck at the same time.
"Good, right?" Sam asked, as he pulled off of Dean's cock for a moment. Dean looked at him, pleadingly, desperation in his eyes as he panted for air. "Want me to keep going?" Sam knowingly asked, with a smirk. Dean answered only by fisting the sheets beneath his hands. Sam smiled, then went right back to his task; hot mouth engulfing him again, and his finger working inside of Dean.
Dean slammed his head back down on the pillow, letting out of grunt of pleasure that he wasn't even a hundred percent certain was coming from him. "Fuck, Sammy," he groaned, finding his voice again. "Oh god..."
Sam grinned around Dean's cock, pressing his own into the mattress, just to relieve the pressure. He was even more turned on when Dean's legs opened wider, feet flattening on the mattress top. He could tell that it was taking everything in Dean not to move. But Sam wanted him to. He wanted to make him lose control; the way he felt when he wanted to make Dean feel good. That feeling always made him do things he never thought he'd ever want to do to a man; never mind that it was his own brother. He wasn't even sure where the ideas came from, only that they just came to him as he went. Like now... Sam had the clever inclination to use a second finger, pressing surprisingly easily into Dean.
Dean must have liked it, if his struggled cry was any indication. And suddenly, Sam didn't even have to move his fingers, because Dean was undulating his hips, fucking himself on Sam's digits, like he'd been doing it all his life. That just rose the heat of Sam's blood even higher. That, and the noises escaping his brother's mouth.
Sam moaned around Dean's cock, subconsciously. Before he could think much of it, Dean's hand was in his hair, tightly fisting the locks on the back of Sam's head. Sam peered up and met Dean's eyes. There was a look of pure lust and determination in them, that seemed to burrow into him and latch onto his soul. He couldn't even tell when Dean started thrusting up into his mouth, in the addition of down onto his fingers. But Dean's hand was holding his head, steadily, strongly in place as he did so. Sam would've panicked, had his hand not already been on the lower half of Dean's shaft. He was pretty sure he'd have choked, otherwise, and he didn't think he'd be able to deep-throat. As many times as he'd been choked in his life, things like that sometimes scared the crap out of him.
But this is what Sam had wanted to happen; to see Dean lose control, all because of him. So he watched him, as best he could from that angle; Dean's face twisting and contorting with impending orgasm. It took just moments more, before all rhythm left the table, and Dean was shouting obscenities and gibberish words, sprinkled with his brother's name, while Sam accepted the hot, creamy liquid that flooded into his mouth, almost directly down his throat, which made it fairly simple to just swallow down, without thinking about it.
When Dean's hand fell, limply, from Sam's head, Sam looked back up at him. His head was fallen back on the pillow, chest rising and falling with effort to regain breath. He looked completely fucked out, and that made Sam extraordinarily pleased. Sam released Dean's softening cock, and crawled back up his brother's body, until his face hovered a bit over Dean's, propping himself up on his elbows as he studied Dean's blissful expression; closed eyes. He wanted to memorize it.
But then Dean's eyes opened, looking directly and deeply into Sam's. His gaze flickered over Sam's face, for a moment, noting his red swollen, spit-slick lips, and met his eyes again. "That was... Sam, that was..."
"Good?" Sam smiled, raising his brows.
"Fucking amazing," Dean corrected, noting the sudden shyness. He brought his hands up to either side of Sam's face, eyes bright and wide as they darted back and forth between Sam's. "You're fucking amazing, Sammy," he told him, then pulled him down to capture his lips with his own. Sam melted into him, opening his mouth as Dean did. Dean could taste himself in Sam's mouth, and the mixture of them both, caused his next breath to shudder from his chest...
And suddenly, there was a banging on the door, halting everything. Dean wanted to ignore it. But it kept going.
"Come on, guys! We kinda need you!" they heard from the other side of the door.
"Fucking Spangler," Dean groaned.
"I'll make him go away," Sam rolled off of him, tucking himself back into his shorts, and pulling his shirt down. Dean quickly yanked up his jeans and fastened them, and pushed to sit up against the headboard. Sam opened the door. "What, man?" he asked, annoyed.
"We have a huge problem," he told him, pushing past Sam, into the room.
"Well, come on in," Sam said, sarcastically, closing the door behind him.
"You were right," the Ghostfacer told them. "Sally's ghost didn't come, last night."
"And you felt the need to deliver this news personally, because?" Dean asked, impatiently.
"Because something else did," he told them. "And it was a man. I mean a ghost...man. A few people started packing up to leave around midnight, when Sally didn't show. That's when he showed up," he said, nervously. "Three people are dead," he told them, voice shaking. This surprised the hunters.
"Three?" Sam narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't fit the profile of how these killings have been happening, at all."
"Did you see the ghost?" Dean asked, sitting up off of the headboard, now interested.
"Yeah," Spangler replied. "I saw him, for maybe a few moments. He was standing there, outside of the salt circle, you know... I turned around to grab my camera, and when I looked back, he was gone. Then...then there was screaming..."
(to be continued...)