A/N: I don't think it's ever taken me so long to write a sex scene. FFS enjoy it! Rofl ;)
...***...
Sam had spent the entire ride back to the motel, absentmindedly clinging to the bottom of Dean's shirt, from his seat. His arm had draped across the space between them, and simply grabbed on, as if he needed reassurance that he wasn't going anywhere. And Dean explained that it was just a hallucination; that this is what the other survivors had seen.
Sam had asked what, exactly, the others had seen, and Dean told him what the deputy saw; his wife being torn apart. And then told him about Harold's wife, how she saw her husband in the same fashion. To that, the younger questioned why Harold hadn't mentioned that to him before. Dean assumed it was because Harold and his wife had already gotten business from the Winchesters, and there was no need to advertise. But once they'd heard of the rise in deaths, they'd opened right up to Dean.
Sam seemed to accept that, and then he was staring at the windshield, again. Not out of it, but at it; a small smudge on the glass in the far bottom corner. His thoughts wavered back to the camp. And after a few silent moments, he said, "That's what I saw happen...to you." And it took Dean just a few moments to piece together what he was talking about. But once he did, his features fell. Sam had watched Dean die in the woods, that day. And not just die, but get torn apart by, what looked like invisible dogs. His current inner-torment was probably not just what happened today, but also a mixture of the trauma of watching Dean torn apart years ago, by hellhounds, taking him from this life for months. Taking him away from Sam...
And Sam had been changed by that, Dean all too well remembered.
He got them back to the hotel, and helped Sam inside, though he had been insistent that he was fine. But he'd proven himself wrong when he rose up out of the car and the world swam and tilted in his vision. Luckily Dean had already been there to grab hold of him, before he even started toward the asphalt.
"Just take a nap, Sam," Dean told him, as he gently pressed him to lay back on the bed. "I'll go get us some grub, and we'll take the rest of the day off, and everything will be okay. You'll feel better in no time."
"I'm not sick," Sam retorted. "Maybe a little tired...but that's all. An' I don't want anything from that diner."
Dean raised his brows, sensing a bit of Sam's attitude; the one he got when he had been expressly afraid on a hunt, and exhausted because of it all, and was trying to hide it from his big brother. But he hadn't seen this attitude in a long time, so it threw him back a bit.
He glanced over at the little kitchenette, then back to Sam. "Fine then. I'll go to the market and get some stuff there. There's a little fridge in here, so if you're okay to be here-"
"I'm fine!"
"Then I'll go pick up some beer, and grab you some...something. I dunno. I'll get stuff to make sandwiches. That work?"
"What about for breakfast?"
"Breakfast? That's tomorrow, dude. Alright, fine. I'll get cereal and milk."
"Lucky Charms."
"Are you being serious right now?"
Sam looked up at him with something that was a mix of confusion and a kicked puppy. "Why?"
"Never mind. I'll get Lucky Charms. Now, can you please...please just get some sleep, Sammy?" he asked, having calmed his voice, and looked at him pleadingly.
Seeing Dean's face, made Sam regretful of his attitude, and his own fell. "I'm sorry..."
"Don't start that again," Dean sighed, shaking his head.
"I'll go to sleep," Sam told him. "But...can you stay with me a little while? Just..." he felt slightly pathetic, but he needed him, "Just until I fall asleep? Please?"
Dean couldn't say no to that. "Sure, kiddo," he moved to lay in the space Sam made for him, feeling only slightly weird calling him 'kiddo', after the things they'd been doing. But he couldn't help it, because Sam was reminding him of how they were when they were kids. Sam was feeling vulnerable, and Dean was feeling protective. And somehow, that was okay, because he knew he could fix it this time.
They fell into place, as if there was a mold cut out for them in the mattress, in a position that they always went back to. Sam curled into Dean's chest, and Dean put an arm around him. Sam took a deep breath in through his nose, and Dean knew he was just absorbing his scent; another way to ground him into reality, only now it seemed it meant a lot more than it ever did before. Or did it? Did it always mean what it means now?
While Dean pondered that, he felt Sam drift off into unconsciousness. And as much as Dean wanted to stay, he knew he needed to make that run to the store. But he got an idea in his head, and he spotted Sam's laptop. He needed to do a little research, and then he'd set out for the store...
...***...
Dean had had to make a second stop, because the grocery store didn't have what he needed, though in hindsight, he felt foolish ever thinking he'd have been able to find such things there. But it hadn't taken long, thanks to some help from the clerk, to find what he needed, and then hurry back to the hotel before the food sat too long in the car.
Sam was still fast asleep. So Dean quietly brought the bags to the kitchenette area, made a plate full of sandwiches, and stuck them into the fridge, along with the milk and beer. Then he checked on Sam again, who hadn't so much as shifted in his sleep. Dean made the decision to grab the bag from the second stop, and head into the bathroom. The website said this might be easier in the shower, and that's what he intended to try...
...***...
Sam began to stir, at the squeaking of the shower faucet being turned off. His mind slowly wakened, recalling the events from earlier that day. He could feel his heart start racing with anxiety, even though he knew it was Dean in the bathroom. Even with the door closed, the slight aroma-carrying steam, seeping from under the door and out into the room, smelled of him. It gave Sam enough comfort not to fully panic.
Sam slowly pushed himself up, sitting back against the headboard, and brushed a hand down his face. He was entirely too gloomy about the fact that Dean wasn't still lying there with him. He knew it was stupid to feel that way. Dean had to go to the store, and Sam had only asked him to stay until he fell asleep. Still...he wanted Dean.
Just then, the bathroom door opened up, and a billowing cloud of steam rolled from the smaller room for just a moment, followed by Dean, clad in a towel he was holding around his waist. Sam tried to hide the relieved smile.
"You're up," Dean said, once seeing him sitting up on the bed. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
"No," Sam shook his head.
"You okay?" he asked, noticing Sam's gaze following him as he walked to his bag.
Sam nodded, "Yeah. Just...glad you're here."
Dean looked at him more scrupulously, realizing the lingering bits of anxiety that seemed to still radiate from his younger brother. He abandoned his original destination, and moved toward the bed. "'course I'm here," he told him, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, right beside him. Sam resisted the urge to grab onto him, and merely gave him a sheepish smile. Dean could tell it was up to him to bring Sam back from this reverie of emotion, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do, in order to achieve it. He'd hoped to feed Sam, first, but this seemed like the sooner, the better. Sandwiches could wait.
It felt a little strange, preemptively, he had to admit; the thought of comforting Sam through touch. Mostly, perhaps, because he wasn't sure how Sam would react to it. So, Dean did his best not to show his nervous hesitancy, as he reached his hand up to the side of Sam's neck and jawline, his thumb gently brushing Sam's cheek. "No where I'd rather be, Sammy," He told him, almost in a whisper, as leaned in and gently pressed his lips to Sam's. Then he pulled back, mere centimeters, and looked at Sam's closed lids for a moment.
"This hotel?" Sam asked, slightly dazed.
"With you," Dean replied, softly, before placing as soft a kiss to Sam's cheek. "Here with you," he told him, moving the gentle kiss down to his jaw, opposite where his hand sat on the other cheek.
"Oh," was all Sam could reply with, breathily, as he allowed himself to remain still, and simply let Dean do what he wanted. He felt Dean's lips plant gentle, almost infuriatingly soft kisses along his jaw, and up to his hairline beside his ear, then felt his mouth move to the corner of his eye, as Dean's other hand cupped the side of his face that had just been peppered with kisses, and the other dropped away from the neglected side of his face, to slide down to his neck where it met his shoulder. Dean resumed to plant as many kisses to the other side of Sam's face. "What...what are you doing, Dean?"
"I'm kissing you," Dean replied, softly, beside his ear.
"Why are you...kissing me like that?" he asked.
"Because I haven't kissed you in these places, yet," he told him. A shiver ran down Sam's spine, sparking a warm feeling in his stomach. "Don't worry. I'll just worry about your face, for now. Or we'd be here a while."
Sam's hands shot to Dean's arms, and he opened his eyes to meet his brother's, "I don't mind." Then he pushed forward, capturing Dean's mouth in a heated kiss. Sam's hands moved up Dean's arms, up to his shoulders, and down to his chest, where they splayed to explore. Somewhere in the back of his mind, too faint to be completely noticed with the fiery battle currently happening within their joined mouths, Dean was moving to straddle his lap.
When Sam felt Dean's hands pulling at the hem of his tee shirt, trying to get under it, to his skin, he moved forward enough to pull it off over his head, himself, and inadvertently opened his eyes as their lips parted. That's when he realized, consciously, Dean's position over him. And as Dean's hands roamed the skin of Sam's chest and stomach, diving back in to meet his lips with his own, Sam's hands pulled at the towel around Dean's waist.
Both their breathing sped up as the kiss immediately deepened. Dean's heart raced with anticipation at the plan he was about to carry out. He was nervous, but excited and almost too impatient for his own good. This was about Sammy. He had to keep reminding himself that.
He pulled away, as the towel slipped off with Sam's assistance. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked Sam in the eyes. "I love you, Sam...so much," he heard himself say. That hadn't even been part of the plan. But it felt so right, and the look Sam gave him in response, made him all the more glad his mouth sometimes spoke before he told it to.
With almost tears in his eyes, Sam replied, "God...I love you, too..."
Dean smirked, "Call me Dean."
Sam scrunched his face up for a moment, partly confused, and partly slightly aggravated that he would say something that belittled the sentiment. But he knew that hadn't been Dean's intention. It's just how Dean was. How could he possibly fault him that.
Instead, Sam reached up and gripped Dean's hair in both hands, as best as he could manage, and gave him a face of mock-agitation, before pulling his head back down to kiss him again. Dean groaned into it, as his hard cock, no longer restricted by the scratchy towel, made contact with the soft denim of Sam's worn jeans. He couldn't help but to reach down and cup Sam through them, just to be sure he wasn't the only one who'd reached this level. He found the hard length and squeezed, palming it, before moving his hand to flatten against Sam's stomach. It was Sam's turn to moan, and his hands released Dean's hair, traveled down the expanse of Dean's back, and down to his ass, where he squeezed and pulled him down against him as he thrust up to meet him.
But Sam's fingers grazed something there, between the firm, rounded cheeks. Something that...in all logic in his own mind, shouldn't be there. The fact that Dean sort of stiffened and shivered when Sam had touched it, made him pull from the kiss and look Dean in the eyes. "What's that?" he asked, curiously.
Dean swallowed, suddenly nervous. Suddenly feeling like maybe this was a bad idea; that it was strange and maybe Sam would think he was weird or something. But then there was this...flicker of realization in Sam's eyes, that Dean didn't miss. And he watched as the younger man's pupils widened, even further darkening his eyes, and his breathing was louder; his whole body seeming to tense and relax all at the same time.
"I did it for you," Dean said, quickly; quietly, as he was unsure how that would sound. "I...I wanted to...ya know, give you... I... I wanted you to know that...I'm as much yours, as you are mine," his eyes finally met Sam's again. He was relieved that there wasn't anything written on the younger's face, like...amusement or ridicule. This was as chick-flick a moment as Dean had ever had with anyone...well, aside from a chick. And even then, it'd never been this important. The fact that it wasn't freaking him out at all, was kinda...well, freaking him out.
But then, Sam says, "Show me," in the hottest way Dean thinks he's ever seen anyone say anything. And he finds himself turning around, after dismounting Sam's lap. Before he can bend over to display himself, Sam's hand is on his back, leading him down, and he has to catch himself with his hands, so his face doesn't plant the mattress.
Dean clamps his eyes shut, hoping that it looks okay; that it isn't weird or gross or... whatever. He thinks about what he did in the bathroom, to prepare. The website told him it was polite to do an enema. He had done two of them, mostly because he wasn't sure if he'd done it right the first time, plus he'd assumed at the time that it would've felt a lot more awkward if that morning's events hadn't happened. But it wasn't nearly as odd as he'd figured. It was actually kind of nice. Then, in the shower, he'd lubed and stretched himself like they'd instructed, and inserted the bright blue-colored plug that he'd picked out at the specialty shop; the plug that had most closely resembled the girth of Sam's hard cock. He tried to imagine what that might look like to Sam, right now; what his asshole looked like, stretched around that bright blue-
His thoughts were cut short, as he felt Sam's hand brace on his lower back, and the plug being gently pulled from his body. He grunted as it popped out, and the empty feeling was suddenly extremely disappointing. But then...then there was another feeling, that he quickly came to realize was Sam's mouth. Sam's tongue.
"Oh god...oh god..." Dean's body shuddered at the unexpected pleasurable sensation. It made his stomach muscles quake, and his cock jump with excitement. His face ended up in the mattress, anyway.
"Look at you," Sam said, breathlessly, pulling his mouth from Dean's decidedly delicious asshole, and nipping the flesh of Dean's ass cheek. "So stretched and open...just for me..."
"Only for you, Sam," Dean told him, pressing back, looking for more...more something; anything Sam wanted to do. Fortunately for Dean, Sam seemed to want to go back to what he'd just been doing. And Dean fisted the sheets in one hand, and made a fist with the other, in which he took to biting down on just to keep himself from some percentage of the slightly embarrassing moaning this was drawing out of him. He felt like a Skinamax chick, and momentarily wondered if this was the equivalent of what it felt like for a chick to get eaten out.
That made him think about women. Did Sam do this for a girl? Or was he thinking about the strategy of pussy-eating, and applying it to this? Would Sam miss pussy? Would he want girls still? Wait...would he? No... Dean didn't need anything or anyone but Sam. Right? He was pretty sure. Why the hell was he thinking about this right now?
Sam had stopped. Why had he stopped? Dean opened his eyes just as he felt Sam shifting on the bed. He turned around, shakily toppling a bit onto his side, and saw Sam shimmying out of his jeans. "Where is it?" Sam asked. "The lube?"
"Bathroom," Dean supplied. Sam nodded, moving to get out of the bed, and immediately falling to the floor, as his jeans were still wrapped awkwardly around his ankles. "You okay?" Dean furrowed his brows.
"Yeah," Sam's voice cracked, embarrassed at what had just happened, and kicked his jeans the rest of the way off, before giving Dean a sheepish smile and taking off toward the bathroom again.
The few moments Dean had alone, he was unsure of how to position himself. But Sam seemed to have some kind of idea what he was doing. In fact, Sam seemed to know...a lot about what he was doing. That morning, with the blow job, and the fingers...knowing exactly what to do. Now the rimming? And he had known what the plug was...
"Hey, you okay?" Dean was pulled from his reverie as Sam's voice sounded in front of him. Somehow, Sam had managed to come back in and climb into the bed to kneel in front of him, without him even realizing it.
"Have you done this before?" Dean asked.
"What?"
"That night...you said you'd never been on the receiving end, before. But have you done this?"
"With a dude? No," Sam told him, then studied Dean's face, noting the insecurity in it. Was he...was he jealous? He was jealous! Of the possibility that he wasn't Sam's first! But Sam knew that saying that out loud, even lightheartedly, might end this evening, completely. And trying to simply defend himself, he wasn't sure if that'd be as effective. He'd try a different strategy. "Dean, how did you know how to stretch yourself, or use that plug?" he wouldn't mention the empty enema packages he saw in the trashcan in the bathroom.
Dean blushed a bit. "Website," he motioned toward Sam's laptop.
Sam smirked, "Where do you think I figured out the basics of what we've been doing?"
Dean got an incredulous look on his face, "You googled how to give a rim job?"
"Actually...I watched some porn," Sam confessed, a bit embarrassed.
"How did you manage that, without me knowing?"
"We haven't spent every moment together, this past couple of days."
Dean seemed to mull that over for a few moments. Then he looked back up at Sam, "So you watched gay porn? For educational purposes?"
Sam shrugged, "Kinda worked, didn't it?"
"Did you...ya know...get off?"
"Actually I...kinda wasn't so much into the guys," Sam told him. "Guess I'm just...into you."
"Best answer ever," Dean replied, diving forward and capturing Sam's mouth in a heated kiss; his arms folding around him in the process.
Sam laughed into the kiss, pushing back against the force of Dean's dive, and effectively pushing Dean down onto his back. Foreheads touching, Sam pulled from the kiss, "You thought you wouldn't be the first. You were jealous," he smiled, affectionately, yet cockily at the same time, and Dean couldn't figure out quite how he'd managed to pull that off.
"Shut up," Dean replied, gruffly.
"I would've told you, if I'd done this. It's not like you're some bar hookup," he told him, in between kisses.
"Yeah...I know," Dean replied, feeling a bit of regret at having even thought it, now. He gently put his hands on either side of Sam's face. "I'm sorry."
Sam smiled, lightly, letting out a hint of a laugh, as though to say the apology wasn't necessary. Dean moved to kiss him, but Sam pushed him back down. "Would it have made a difference?" he asked him. "If I'd been with a guy before? Would that change this?"
Dean thought about that for a moment, then met Sam's eyes again, shaking his head, without doubt, "No. No it wouldn't change this."
"Good," Sam replied. Then he leaned down and kissed Dean, but it was slow and sweet, and slowly grew in heat, speed and desperation, until they were right back where they were before Sam had gone to fetch the lube. Only, Dean was on his back, instead of his knees, and Sam was planted between his spread legs, only his boxers separating them.
Dean felt impatient, now, as Sam seemed to be taking his sweet time getting to the point. So he reached down between them, his hand sliding under the waistband of Sam's boxers, and quickly finding the hard, hot cock beneath them, giving it a nice squeeze and then a few strokes, pulling a groan from the younger man.
Sam's mouth pulled from Dean's, and he tucked his face into his brother's neck, "Want you, so bad, Dean..."
"Then take me," Dean said through clenched teeth. Sam made a sound in the back of his throat, as he bit the side of Dean's neck, just like he had in that warehouse, and Dean nearly lost it.
Sam was grinding down against him, one hand yanking down his boxers, trying not to break any contact with his brother, until their cocks were sliding against each other without barrier. Sam managed to kick off the boxers, the rest of the way, without losing the rhythm.
"C'mon, Sam," Dean writhed beneath him. "Please..."
"I..." Sam swallowed as he looked Dean in the eye, "I just...want it to be good for you. I wanna make it good for you," he seemed worried, like he'd not be as good at this part.
This, for some reason, made Dean feel marginally less inadequate. But not any less anxious to get Sam inside him. "Sammy, I know this is gonna be awesome, okay? Now...you know what to do, so...just come on. Just do it," he spread his legs even farther, bending his knees until his feet were flat on the mattress.
Sam nodded, and reached for the bottle of lube, pouring some into his palm and then stroking it over himself a few times, before lining the head of his cock at Dean's hole. His eyes met Dean's.
Dean was suddenly nervous again, but he knew he needed to relax. And when Sam began to slowly sink into him, he realized how different this was to that morning. This was so much easier, prepared. And once Sam was fully seated, it was like they fit together perfectly, and they were amazed at how easy it had been.
They laid there for a long moment, unmoving, looking at each other as if to acknowledge that they were both feeling the same thing. Dean felt more than just full; he felt complete. And the chick-flick Jerry Maguire neon sign went off in his head at the thought, but he pushed all that away, and concentrated on Sam. Sammy, hovering over him like Cinderella had just slipped into her long-lost glass slipper. That thought made Dean smirk.
Seeing Dean's smile, Sam was jolted back into reality. He was inside of Dean. Inside of Dean, and this was absolutely awesome. It was warm, almost hot, really. It was different than when he'd done this with Jess. This meant something more...and it just felt overall...better.
He looked at Dean's mouth, right as the older Winchester bit down on his bottom lip, letting it slowly slide loose from his teeth. This made something uncoil inside of Sam, and he positioned himself a bit different, like he'd seen in the movies he'd watched online; the position that was more often the trigger of orgasms for the bottom. He sat up on his knees, spreading his legs a bit, and pulled Dean further into his lap, so he could penetrate him again, and this got an immediate cry out from Dean. Sam smiled, proudly.
"You're so tight, Dean," he told him, running his hands up Dean's thighs, until he met his waist, and started up a rhythm. "Feels so good. Can't believe...can't believe you did this for me... That you...wanted me to..."
"Fuck, Sam, just...fuck..." he didn't want him to talk anymore. Not right now. He just wanted him to fuck him. He wanted to watch Sam get off, and fuck all if he didn't need to come, himself, real damn soon. He wrapped his hand around himself, and started stroking in tandem with Sam's thrusts.
Sam wanted to kiss him; to hold him, and this position didn't really make that possible. So he reached down and pulled Dean up, until their chests met, and he was face to face with a shocked-to-suddenly-be-in-the-position Dean. They hadn't broken contact, and the strange new angle hit something erogenous in Dean.
Sam's arms squeezing around him, and crushing their mouths together, only seemed to intensify it, and Dean found himself directing some of the motion of his hips, effectively riding Sam, though Sam never stopped thrusting up into him. He didn't know how long they did it, until the pressure was building up so hot and hard, that he couldn't hold himself upright any longer, and he felt himself bowing backward, losing all strength except to catch himself on his hands behind him, as Sam only seemed to slam all the harder into him.
And then Sam's hand was on his cock, pumping with a perfection that took a mere few strokes before both of them were coming; Dean shouting and the intensity that surpassed that morning by ten-fold. His body jerked; quaked with the electricity that flowed through him. And even through all of this, he could hear Sam's cries of pleasure, and feel the liquid heat that filled him, before his arms completely gave out, and he collapsed to the mattress, and everything went suddenly and magnificently black...
(to be continued...)