15

Dean nearly screamed out loud, he was too shocked to utter a single word but to open his eyes wide and watch his brother sucking his dick, the visual stimuli and the tactile sensitivity came all at once.

Sam wasn't doing a great job, he had never done this, he switched to a kneeling position but kept his lips on his brothers cock during the whole process. With his left hand on his brother's length, he reached his right hand inside his own pants for his own cock: he wanted to get a sense of how things felt like so he could try to bring those feelings to his brother with his mouth. His tongue circled around the head in jerky movements, but then spontaneously and recklessly he licked along the whole length to make it wet, and when he returned to the head he tasted Dean's leaking precome. He was now fully hard in his own hand too.

Dean was now gulping in air, he stared at the ceiling and he could feel nothing but Sam's effort on his dick. When he finally managed to regain a shred of rationality, he lowered his head and saw there were strands of his brother's stray hair dangling and sweeping slightly at his crotch, they were reflecting light at the same frequency with his own pubic hair. He saw the movement of Sam's other hand, "Turn off the light and come up here." he said.

Sam did that compliantly. His trousers were now too much of a nuisance so he spent a little while in the dark taking them off before he came back to Dean's cock. He had figured out the way of sucking and pulling his brother in deep, but he kept trying new tricks to find the way that would make both Dean and himself comfortable.

He was kneeling before Dean, his tall figure lowering down and letting Dean fuck his mouth and go deeper and deeper inside all the way to his throat. As his head went up and down he was still thinking to himself in a daze: how did they end up in this? But everything seemed perfectly natural, and if Dean just needed sex he could satisfy him, as long as Dean doesn't leave him and doesn't deliberately seek the chance to get hurt. It's like what he said, he could do anything for Dean.

Dean was covered in wounds and it actually hurt like hell, but the pain seemed to have stimulated his ability to accept pleasure, Sam's mouth felt warm and nice, it was like the best sex he could think of. He never thought about doing this with Sam and there was no way he could know how good this felt like. He just knew that this is Sam, but, precisely because this is Sam, his thoughts began to went on and off like all the blood in his body had went to his dick and turned his nerves into tentacles in Sam's mouth were they kept reaching out and greedily asking for more. He kept pumping in and out until a whimper of discomfort came from Sam's throat and woke Dean suddenly from his intoxication. He wanted to withdraw but Sam just looked up and shook his head firmly, he even tried to swallow him deeper which made his pleasure even more intense.

He said: "I'm coming, Sammy, let me out." He went to push Sam and put his hand on Sam's hair, but Sam still shook his head. His hand jacked Dean's cock fast as his mouth sucked hard until Dean slumped back hard onto the pillow and came in Sam's mouth, his eyes struggling to regain focus. He was just lying there on the bed, his limbs limp and sparks flew before his eyes as he slowly came back to life from the aftershock of orgasm.

Sam crawled on all fours to in front of him, his face appeared above Dean's head as he pressed his body hard on top of Dean, he asked with concern: "How do you feel?"

"...Splendid." Dean said.

Sam beamed with pride, it was not the kind of pride hearing the compliments of your bedmate, he didn't care if his skills were recognized, he just cared about Dean.

Dean had came back from his orgasm, he sat himself up slowly, Sam frowned: "There are still wounds on you, stop moving around."

Dean smiled: "It's my turn."

Dean made a gesture to have Sam's dick in his mouth, Sam stopped him in his progress: "Today I'm serving you because you're hurt. Don't move, okay?"

"Okay." Therefor Dean didn't continue and just put his hand on Sam's cock. He was much more good at this than Sam, he jacked Sam's cock with strokes that got Sam trembling and fell on his shoulder. Sam still kept in mind Dean's injuries so he wanted to sat up straight, but Dean immediately sped up the movement of his hand which had Sam leaning onto him as if there were no bones left inside him and the only thing hard left of his body was his cock. Dean put his arm around Sam and stroked his back, he whispered Sam's name over and over again: "Sammy, Sammy, my Sammy."

At first Sam said: "I'm here."

Then it turned into: "Dean..."

At last Sam came in Dean's hand, they were immersed in the orgasms brought by each other. After a while Sam heard a soft rustle of Dean fumbling, he straightened up and saw in surprise that Dean was licking his come off his fingers.

That almost got him hard immediately. He asked: "What are you doing?"

"You swallowed mine, it's only fair that I swallow yours." Dean talked as if it was the most natural thing in the world. There were almost no distance between them, Dean suddenly moved closer and planted a light kiss on his sweat-stained forehead, then he put his own forehead against his and raised his arms to give him a hug.

Sam accepted this hug, he was breathing Dean's breath. His mind still felt like in was drifting in the clouds because of pleasure, but he definitely didn't have a quickie with his brother because he had lost his sense, on the contrary he knew exactly that this person was Dean. God, he never had any interest in gay sex and giving blowjobs, he just cared about Dean and was glad that he had brought Dean pleasure. Dean was always that good, and when he came in his hand he felt his chipped heart suddenly pounding.

Those feelings, like the kind of intense pleasure you feel all over you like it's gonna kill you, engraved Dean's name on his heart.

It seemed like only in moments like that he could feel that Dean's real and belonged to him.

His fiancee was sleeping in the room nextdoor while he was lying on his brother's bed.

When you summarized it down to one sentence it sounded particularly ridiculous. But Sam just shrugged and brushed it off, because this is Dean, and because he's Sam.

Sam walked over to the window, they had left the curtains open— neither of them had anticipated what things had come to. He gazed at the lights outside, they were like countless fallen stars, like countless fallen angels; he looked at cars roaring by, they were heading towards the opposite directions. New York didn't have real nighttime, there were always people on the streets, they sang, they cheered, they cried, they mourned, and Sam wished so bad that time could stop and freeze at this moment: Dean's hurt but he's alive, and he's sitting behind him with his gaze fixed on his back. While he himself was towering and shielding before Dean, a barrier between him and danger, if bullets came they'd have to shoot through him first, if monsters came they'd have to step over his body first. Sam Winchester had already known the taste of death, he was fearless to face it again, he could protect Dean now, he thought.

Dean sat behind him and pointed at the corner across the street: "I used to sit there and look at your window."

"I'd be hanging around by the window way more often if I'd know." Sam laughed. Now they could even talk about this.

Dean broke this peaceful silence: "I've always been curious, what did you bury in my grave? I mean, since you obviously couldn't bury me."

"Your favorite."

Dean pondered for a while and couldn't think of an answer.

Sam joked: "Busty Asian Beauties."

"Of course, Busty Asian Beauties." Dean nodded, "I was hesitating because it doesn't look like you buried the key of the Impala."