Had to divide this into two parts - follow the link at the base of this post for the rest of the chapter!
"Do Dandelions Roar"
- Chapter Seventeen - by KnM
The first thing Sam did when they entered their hotel room that evening was salt the door and windows, and place the protective glyph Missouri had given him on the door.
The second thing he did was get Dean to solemnly promise not to leave the room without him for any reason or under any circumstances.
The third thing he did was lock himself in the bathroom.
And the fourth thing he did, the one thing he'd been thinking about for the last three hours, was get in the shower and jerk off.
It didn't take long. That had been an orgasm building for almost two weeks now, after all. He hadn't had a chance to get off since that morning in the shower before they had arrived at Missouri's. They'd been too busy while on the road, and then he'd been staying in the home of a mind reader, and if that hadn't quelled his libido much, it had at least restrained him from acting on his horniness.
It hit him so fast and so hard that he didn't even have time to feel guilty over the fact that it was Dean's face that flashed across his mind's eye, Dean's pretty pink mouth and the slight smatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose that got Sam off with more speed and force than he had experienced since, well, since he'd been fourteen himself.
"Oh, fuck," he managed to gasp, slumping against the shower wall, squeezing the last of his spunk free to swirl down the drain. He'd pretty well painted the wall opposite himself, where the water didn't really reach, and that was an impressive mess -- he'd been building it up for twelve, thirteen days, after all -- but he was too wiped out by his climax to straighten up and do something about it. There it was, the physical proof of his sin, of the attraction he harbored for his brother... and it was a little disturbing how much he didn't care.
Maybe some of the stuff Missouri had said to him had sunk in. Maybe Sam was really just that twisted. Or maybe he was just tired of fighting what felt so natural, even if it wasn't supposed to be natural. Anyway, he wasn't the only one who felt this way -- Dean wanted him sexually too.
Feeling his cock twitch at this thought, even though he'd just come, Sam dragged in a long, shuddering breath and managed to lever himself upright, away from the wall. It really wasn't prudent of him to be in here with Dean locked out, even with the promise he'd extracted from him. Sam was hit with a surge of panic, recalling the last time he'd gone into a hotel bathroom without his brother. He shouldn't have left Dean out there alone; it was thoughtless and careless, and for all he knew Dean might still be prone to wandering away!
Shutting off the water and perfunctorily toweling himself, Sam dragged on a pair of worn sweatpants and threw open the bathroom door.
He probably shouldn't have been surprised to slam out of the bathroom and find his brother waiting patiently for him on the bed, completely naked, green eyes gleaming and fixed on him with a hunger that Sam understood all too well.
"Are you ready, Sammy?" Dean asked, tilting his head inquisitively.
Sam gulped, and from the way his cock jumped inside his sweats he wasn't as sated as he had thought. Evidently one orgasm just hadn't been enough, had only taken a little of the edge off.
"I got myself ready for you," Dean said, his thick lashes lowering, a tiny smile curving but not thinning his plump lips. They were fat and ruddy, as though he'd been biting at them, almost to the point of looking well kissed even though Sam knew that he hadn't kissed Dean since that morning, before they'd left Missouri's.
It took Sam a few seconds to figure out what Dean had meant by that strange comment, but then understanding struck him and he was suddenly, irrevocably hard, and he might as well not have gotten himself off in the shower for how horned up he was now.
Oh, holy fuck!
It was wrong, though. Not because they were brothers. Not because Dean was physically fourteen again and still fairly broken. Not because Sam had never been with a male before and didn't really know what to do. Hell, not even because they were both guys and Sam wasn't gay. But what Dean had just said, what that meant he had done, was an explicit reminder to Sam of what Dean had been put through for the last two years.
This chilling realization wasn't enough to kill his hard-on, but it did dampen his immediate reaction enough that he was able to make it to the bed with how much he loved Dean and wanted to make things better for his brother foremost in his thoughts, instead of simply how beautiful and sexy Dean looked and how much he wanted to pound him into the mattress.
"Sammy," Dean breathed, sliding easily into Sam's arms, straddling his legs in a lithe twist as Sam sat on the edge of the bed, settling into his lap and giving a provocative little squirm. Dean's arms wound around Sam's neck and he plastered his lips against his brother's, his tongue a warm-wet wriggle over, under, alongside Sam's own, inviting him into his mouth, dragging a low, rumbling groan up from the very base of Sam's belly.
His hands were locked on Dean's hips, but he wasn't doing it just to hold Dean still this time. He wanted, needed to touch. Dean's flesh was smooth, soft and supple under his palms, and he dug his fingers in; not to bruise or mark, but simply trying to hold on when the rush of emotions and sensations filling him threatened to sweep him away and into a complete loss of control that he couldn't risk.
If he was going to do this, if he was going to do Dean -- if, if, if, as if there was a choice -- he was going to do it right. No taking his pleasure before giving Dean his own. No treating Dean like a thing, like a toy. He loved Dean with everything that was in him, and he was going to have to use his body to communicate that.
Hell, the thought of being able to print his love onto Dean's flesh with his fingers, his tongue, his cock... that turned Sam on a hundred times more than just seeing how pretty and desirable Dean was and knowing that he could take whatever he wanted. This wasn't about taking, this was about giving.
Of course, Sam also knew that Dean felt the same way, and so he knew that his brother was going to make him feel just as good as he intended to make Dean feel. And that was just hot.
All right, so he really was going to do this, Sam realized. And with this thought, he decided to let go of shame or guilt. Those negative emotions would probably hit him later, but right now Dean deserved nothing less than Sam's full attention and participation. If Sam was going to do this -- and clearly he was -- he was going to do it right. He tried very hard not to wonder when the last time Dean'd had sex with someone who cared about his pleasure more than their own had been, because that made him want to cry and it wasn't the time for tears now.
It was pretty much time for sex now. And Sam was surprisingly okay with that. More than okay, he was eager, ready, willing, and so incredibly turned on that he felt almost ready to come for the second time in fifteen minutes... and Dean was the fourteen year old here, not Sam!
"Sammy," Dean panted against Sam's damp, tingling lips, grinding down into the impressive hard-on tenting Sam's sweats. His fingers were tangled in the hair at Sam's nape, tugging just hard enough to send more sparks flying across the surface of Sam's skin, making him want to bury his own hands in Dean's hair. But his hands were full, locked on the swells of Dean's bare ass, and Sam didn't think that he'd be able to drag them away even if he tried.
"Sammy, I want to put your cock in my mouth. Please... please?"
Sam thought that maybe he groaned out an obscenity, but he wasn't exactly capable of forming actual words right now, so the profanity might only have been in his head. Either way, he could no more deny Dean his request than he could have turned and left Dean to fumble his way through the rest of his life alone.
He suffered a momentary qualm -- wouldn't it be taking from his brother if Dean sucked him off? -- but he quickly realized that the fact that Dean was begging for it meant that it wouldn't be taking anything away from him. For some reason Dean wanted to, and it would take a man made of sterner stuff than Sam to deny him when he was pleading so prettily.
Besides, it had been a long, long time since Sam had gotten head from someone who knew what they were doing.
"Okay. Okay," he gasped against Dean's mouth, and any remaining hesitancy was decisively driven away by the quickness with which Dean squirmed down in Sam's lap -- one moment straddling his thighs and the next settled between them on his knees, eager hands already pulling at the worn elastic of Sam's waistband.
"Oh, fuck!" Sam blurted, fisting his hands into the bedspread to avoid grabbing at Dean in any way. Dean fetched him out with reverent hands, caressing the shaft of his aching erection, bringing him to full hardness between one heartbeat and the next, and then he shot a glance up at Sam though thick lashes and tumbling bangs that was equal parts worshipful and impish, making sure that Sam was looking before he pressed a kiss to the tip of his straining cock.
Sam was pretty sure that any rational human being would be embarrassed by the strangled shout that he involuntarily gave vent to, but sex wasn't about rationality. And, anyway, rationally Sam shouldn't be letting his brother anywhere near his dick, but here he was, and here they were, and there was no turning back now. Even if Sam could bring himself to try to stop this, Dean wouldn't have let him. Not that Sam had it in him to try.
When Sam could see again he stared down at Dean. Dean had one fine-boned hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock, the other braced on Sam's thigh. He held the tip of Sam's cock against his mouth, its blunt head settled in the slight indent that marked the center of his full lower lip. Dean's tongue flickered out, teasing at the slit, tasting the precum that was already beading there, and then after a couple of laps Dean shifted a little higher on his knees, taking an amazing amount of his brother's thick cock into his mouth in one smooth slide.
Sam shouted, feeling as though the top of his head was about to come off, at the sudden wethottightsweet suction, and holy fuck but Dean knew what he was doing! He took Sam right down his throat with no hesitation and no sign of a gag reflex, and Sam knew how hard that was to do, even if he'd never tried it himself.
For a moment he focused on just how Dean had gained this talent, and it hurt, like a scream of agony that filled his heart for half a second, a lightning bolt of pain, but the flat of Dean's tongue was curling around the sensitive spot where the shaft met the head of his cock, and Dean wanted this, he honestly wanted this, and Sam was able to focus on the sex and the love and leave everything else behind. For Dean he could do that, and Dean was making this really, really good, to the point that Sam really wouldn't be able, very soon, to think of anything else.
Mind-blowing, Sam thought with a wild internal laugh, and then Dean was sucking, nursing at the head before sliding all the way down again, and Sam lost all ability to think. No girl had ever been able to deep throat him like this, over and over again, all the way to the root -- there were drawbacks as well as benefits to being well endowed, after all -- but Dean seemed to have no difficulty. And Sam couldn't hear much through the pounding of blood in his ears and his own small, breathy moans, but he thought that he caught some soft, appreciative noises coming from his brother.
"Oh, fuck, Dean, I'm gonna-- I'm gonna--"
It didn't matter that he'd just gotten himself off in the shower less than half an hour ago. Dean's mouth was working on him, pleasure pulsing through him, and Sam gripped the bedspread so hard that he thought he might rip it. Dean went down, bobbing there, swallowing around Sam's cock twice and dragging a throttled cry out of him, then slid smoothly up to let the bursts of come hit his tongue, suction dragging more out of Sam than he thought that he had to give.
Dean pulled off reluctantly and looked up at Sam, his cheeks pink, his full lips -- cocksucking lips, literally -- swollen and red and wet. Sam took in that precious face and realized that not only had Dean given him the best blowjob of his life, but he'd also swallowed, and he found that he wasn't quite as done as he thought, gasping as his cock jerked one more time, a final streamer of pearly semen painting those plush lips and Dean's chin.
Dean smirked up at him, raising a hand to wipe off the come with his fingers, popping them unabashedly into his mouth.
"Oh God," Sam managed to get out, falling backward onto the mattress.
"Sammy?" Dean's boyish voice sounded a little raw, and why not? He'd had an oversized cock down his throat just moments before. Sam twitched as Dean clambered up onto the bed, settling on his stomach. Warm hands stroked his shoulders and pectorals, and he could feel Dean leaning down even though he didn't think he had the energy to open his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I think I'm dead," Sam mumbled, but, actually, as Dean wriggled against him, naked legs and rear pressing against his bare stomach, soft, warm flesh against sweaty, overheated flesh, he thought that he might be able to rise to the occasion again after all, even though he'd just had one hell of an orgasm. "You killed me, Dean."
"Don't joke about that, Sammy," Dean reprimanded, though he didn't sound too put out. He bent closer and kissed Sam, and Sam roused enough to kiss him back, only wincing a little at the taste of semen on Dean's lips. It was his own, after all. Usually when he'd gotten head from girls they'd brushed their teeth immediately after, without pausing for any kissing. Not that Sam blamed them, but he liked it better the way Dean had just done it.
And, actually, as he ran his hands gently over Dean's shoulderblades and down his back to the swells of his pert ass, he thought that maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to try returning the favor. He'd never even considered blowing a guy, though he'd gone down on girls before... but with Dean it was different. With Dean everything was different, and a part of him wondered how that had happened, but the larger part of him simply accepted it as the way things were.
"Are you really done, Sammy?" Dean asked in a low purr, scooting backward until his ass was pressed against Sam's not quite entirely flaccid cock. Sam wondered where this stamina came from, because he might still be young, but he wasn't a teenager anymore. Maybe it was just because it was Dean.
"What about you, Dean?" Sam asked, blinking up at his brother through bangs still wet from his shower. Dean was squirming against his cock, but he could feel that Dean wasn't so hard anymore, where his crotch was pressed down into Sam's lower belly.
"I got off while I was sucking you," Dean said matter-of-factly, smiling down at Sam with a muted sort of joy that Sam didn't think he was familiar with seeing on his brother's face. "But I can go again."
Sam chuckled, reaching up to cradle the side of his brother's face, thumb tracing over a sharp cheekbone. "No doubt. But let's get up onto the bed first, okay?" He was, after all, laying there with both legs hanging over the edge of the mattress at the knees, his sweatpants bunched around his hips and his dick flapping over the waistband. If it hadn't been Dean sitting on him, and if he hadn't been so insanely turned on, Sam would have felt more than a little ridiculous.
"Okay, Sammy," Dean said equably, rolling off of his brother so that Sam could rise and remove his sweats, then join Dean on the bed. As soon as Sam was fully on the mattress, his head in the same general area as the pillows, he found himself tackled, Dean's arms around his neck, his brother's body sprawled atop his own larger form.
"Hi," he said inanely, smiling up at Dean. Dean stared down at him for a long moment, his clear green eyes focused, his plump lips parted, and just when Sam was about to ask what was going on inside his brother's head, Dean dipped his head to kiss him.
Okay. Yeah, this he could do.
Sam kissed Dean back, slow, leisurely, lovingly. They'd both gotten off recently -- twice, in Sam's case -- and so there was plenty of time for foreplay. In fact, although he wasn't entirely soft yet, Sam was pretty sure that it was going to be a while before he got fully hard again. Evidently being with Dean turned him on more than, well, anything ever had before, but the mind had only so much control over the body and his balls needed a few minutes to recover. His cock felt full and heavy where it pressed against Dean's soft inner thigh, but Sam knew it'd be a while before he was truly erect again.
That was good, though, because he really loved kissing Dean. Even more now that he'd decided to dispense with feelings of guilt. Though, honestly, he hadn't felt guilty about the kissing thing for several days now. Dean enjoyed it and so did he, and family members kissed each other all the time, right? Okay, not so much like this, not in normal families. But they weren't normal, hadn't been since Sam had been six months old. And it seemed that Sam needed this just as much as Dean did.
Sam caressed Dean's tongue with his own, massaged the tight muscles of Dean's ass with his hand, digging his fingers in when Dean let out an encouraging murmur and wriggled atop him. Dean had one hand resting delicately, almost tentatively at the side of Sam's neck, his pulse leaping under Dean's fingertips, Dean's palm flat against his collarbone. Dean's other hand wasn't anywhere more sensual than Sam's hair, and yet between the two intimate touches, his brother's tongue against his own, and Dean's hardening erection hot against his stomach, Sam felt shivers of mounting arousal washing through his body in rising waves.
Maybe it wasn't going to take him as long to be ready again as he had thought.
"Sammy," Dean whispered against his lower lip, teeth nipping ever so carefully, his breath hot on Sam's chin, and then he pressed the side of his face to Sam's, sharp cheekbone, smooth stubble-free jaw, and the faintest fluttering of eyelashes tickling Sam's skin. Sam held Dean back tightly, knowing that his brother's body and his tiny gasping breaths were saying what he couldn't verbalize; how much he loved Sam, how much he trusted Sam, and Sam was a little terrified that he wouldn't be able to live up to this love and trust, but the greater part of his heart swelled, filling with answering love and the assurance that he'd be able to hold and safeguard his brother, treasure the thing -- the person -- that mattered the most to him in the world, no matter what, forever and ever.
Dean was trembling, his heartbeat pounding between them, and Sam wrapped him up in a tight hug, rolling so that he had his brother's smaller body pressed into the mattress. He had intended to keep Dean on top, let his brother be the aggressor, so to speak, because he was afraid that if he followed his natural inclination and held Dean down, Dean would feel dominated and flash back to all the men who had hurt him in the past two years.... But now he realized that Dean needed this, needed Sam to be the bigger brother, to shelter and protect and cherish him.
Dean stilled, his breathing evening out, and he opened large eyes, gazing up at Sam with a look so open that Sam felt stunned. There was an expression there, of such worship and love that Sam would have felt unworthy if he hadn't been feeling the exact same emotion for Dean in return.
Dean's arms were locked around his neck now, one leg captured under Sam's bulk, the other raised, knee bent, to bracket Sam's hip. Sam propped himself on his elbows, knowing that he weighed a lot more than Dean, one hand shoved between Dean's shoulders and the mattress, the other hand awkwardly stroking the side of Dean's face. It couldn't have been comfortable for Dean, but already his brother looked more at peace.
Then Dean wriggled under him, tugging determinedly with his arms, urging Sam down to reclaim those plump lips, and Sam was perfectly happy to kiss him again.
Sam had to shift before long to accommodate Dean's erection against his belly; Dean was certainly ready to go again already. But then he was, physically, fourteen and had presumably only come once tonight, unless he'd been duplicating Sam's shower masturbatory session out on the hotel bed. Which was entirely possible, but Sam's mouth was kind of occupied right now, and he wasn't about to be bothered to ask.
This cast his mind back, though, to what Dean had said to him just after he'd emerged from the bathroom. Dean had gotten himself "ready" for Sam, he'd declared so easily, as though it was just a matter of course.... And Sam might not be very cognizant of gay sex, but he'd researched anal sex before, so he knew what that meant. So did that mean that Dean expected Sam to...? It must, right? But could he do it? It was one thing to make out, to lie together naked, to let Dean suck him off, and to think about touching Dean, maybe even sucking Dean off in return... but it was another thing entirely to even consider putting his cock inside of his brother!
Was that a line that he was willing to cross? It was evidently something that Dean wanted... but what did Sam want?
From the way his own erection pulsed against the mattress beneath him, he might not find the idea completely repugnant. And as disgusting and horrifying as the realization was, Sam knew that if he decided to "go all the way" with Dean, he wouldn't hurt his brother. Not when Dean had spent the last two years being sold off for that exact treatment.
Sam couldn't decide whether that last was a reason to abstain, or a reason to indulge. There was a lot of nasty reality to overwrite. Which was the better idea; avoiding the action with which Dean had been abused, or doing it and doing it right, with only love fueling their joining?
Well, that last pretty much clinched it, didn't it?
Sam still didn't know if he'd have the guts to go through with it, though. Right now it was just easier to kiss Dean, to lock their lips together and lick his way into Dean's mouth. Dean's hands were moving restlessly over the muscles of Sam's back and shoulders, touching what he could reach, which wasn't much but it was something that Dean needed and Sam certainly wasn't inclined to complain.
"Sammy," Dean slurred against Sam's mouth again. Sam smiled with tingling lips, levering up and looking down at his older-younger brother. Dean's cheeks were flushed, his eyes heavy lidded, pupils blown with lust, and his tongue flickered out to taste plush, ruby lips slicked with their mingled saliva. Sam had never seen anything so sexy in his life, he swore, and it didn't matter that he and Dean were brothers, that they had the same father -- and the same mother, even though Sam didn't remember her -- that just made this all the more special, gave them a connection that no other lovers shared, one that was unbreakable and bone-deep, blood-deep.
"Love you, Dean," Sam breathed, and even as he said them the words seemed to him to be weak and hackneyed, just a useless echo of the way he really felt.
"Now's really not the time for a chick flick moment, Sammy," Dean whispered back, and he sounded so much like himself that Sam blinked. But, no, it was still his achingly beautiful, broken, now-younger brother staring up at him with an openness that Sam had never been able to surprise from his then-older brother while they'd been growing up. Except for that one time, when Dean had asked him to stay, not to go to Stanford, but Sam preferred not to think on that day and the way it had torn them both wide open with no healing for the wounds they'd carved into each other. Things were different now, and this time he could give Dean what he asked for.
"If not now, then when?" Sam queried, smiling faintly because even if Dean didn't remember there'd been quite a few "chick flick moments" between them since he'd been rescued.
"Never sounds good," Dean answered absently, and his hips were moving underneath Sam, grinding up against Sam's stomach as well as he could with his brother's bulk weighing him down, making Sam aware all over again of how hard he was. "But..." Dean's breath caught and he nipped his fat lower lip, glancing up at Sam through thick lashes, "You know I do too, right?"
"I know," Sam assured him, bending to nuzzle at Dean's mouth with his own, urging him to loosen his bite, then slotting his tongue between Dean's lips, licking away the sting before raising his head again. He supposed he'd just used up his life's quota of chick flick moments with that one partial sentence, but Dean needed to hear it, needed to know how Sam felt about him. Even though Sam's body could probably tell the tale far better than his words ever could.
"Love you," he murmured again, just because this was probably the last time he was going to be able to get away with it, and then claimed Dean's mouth once more, before his brother could protest.
By the time he broke the kiss off, they'd both pretty much forgotten what he had said. The meaning wasn't lost; it was there in every breath that they took, every touch, every moment that they spent together. But the fact that he'd indulged in saying it aloud.... The words were unnecessary anyway. It was good to say it every once in a while, but they were living it, so what more could either of them truly need?
Anyway, enough with the chick flick moments. Like Dean had said, now was not the time. Not when Sam had a lithe young body wriggling underneath him, all that soft flesh just begging to be touched. Dean was still too skinny, but he'd put a little weight back on while they'd been staying with Missouri. Sam levered himself up and over so that he was propped on one elbow beside Dean, still partially draped over his brother's smaller body, but now able to explore with his right hand.
It was strange, the lack of breasts, but Sam found himself fascinated with Dean's nipples anyway. They were a dusky pink, beginning to darken to brown but not there yet, and they were just the right size as far as Sam was concerned. There was a thin white scar twisted to the side of one of them, which made Sam's stomach catch in a knot before he remembered that Dean had gotten that when he'd been fifteen, falling onto a barbed wire fence. It was possible that the abuse he'd suffered in the last two years had left physical marks somewhere on his flesh, but his chest was largely unmarred, from what Sam could see.
Dean let out a small startled noise when Sam ran the pad of his thumb over one nipple, watching it pebble up immediately. Dean definitely wasn't a woman... but a body was a body, right? He shouldn't be so surprised when Dean gasped and twitched, hips arching up, one hand clenching on Sam's upper arm.
"S-Sammy," Dean choked, staring up at him, lids heavy over eyes darkened with lust. "Oh!"
Sam smirked, and maybe he wasn't used to sleeping with men, but he figured he could make do, and the male body wasn't all that different than the females, with only one major exception. He'd get there eventually -- Dean's erection was poking him emphatically in the belly and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to hold that blood-flushed hardness in his hand, give Dean back some of the pleasure his brother had given him -- but not yet. He still had quite a bit more surface area to explore, a little higher up, first.
"Is that okay, Dean?" he asked huskily, sliding the tip of his index finger around the aureole, a light teasing touch that had Dean whining and squirming underneath him. Dean's nails bit, blunt and hard, into the muscles of Sam's bicep, his lips slack, breath coming short and frantic as he strained toward his brother.
Not waiting for an answer -- he'd pretty much gotten a non-verbal one anyway -- Sam bent his head, tracing the same path his finger had taken with the tip of his tongue. Dean keened, chest arching up toward the stimulation, his spine stretching. Sam palmed the sharp points of his shoulderblades with the hand still lodged underneath his brother, offering Dean support and doing his best to ground him. Dean had one hand buried in Sam's hair now, his other hand clutching at Sam's shoulder a little painfully.
Shifting a little lower so that he could reach more comfortably, Sam settled his mouth around and over the nipple he was tormenting, sliding the flat of his tongue over the tight little peak, tasting the salt of Dean's sweat, clean and youthful, but more musky than a woman's would have been. Dean definitely wasn't a female, but he was beautiful, and more importantly, he was Dean. Sam could feel the arousal rising in him like a swift-burning fire as he dragged the most erotic, sexual noises out of his brother that he had ever heard.
Releasing the suction, he lifted his head again, admiring the flush his ministrations had brought to Dean's nipple. He decided that the other needed to match it, and Dean sobbed for breath as he bent to his task. Sam was vaguely glad that Dean's chest was still free of hair -- not that he'd had much even as an adult -- but most of his attention was focused on making his brother feel good. If Dean's little whimpers and gasps for breath were any indication, he was doing a pretty good job.
"Sammy," Dean panted, the entreaty ending on a whine, his thigh pressed tightly against Sam's side, hips moving in what was probably an involuntary rhythm against his brother's belly. "Sammy, please touch me?"
Sam planted a moist, open-mouthed kiss on the center of Dean's chest, then smiled down at his brother, pressed a hand soothingly against one pectoral, just holding it there, feeling Dean's heart pounding quickly underneath his palm. "I am touching you," he stated, not to tease, but trying to get a sense of what Dean meant. There were several possibilities, and he didn't want to make the wrong move. He wanted this moment in their joining to be all about Dean and his desires. "Touch you where, Dean?"
Dean wriggled under him, panting prettily, his face flushed, his lips still fat and red from all the friction of the blowjob he'd given and their kisses, his thick lashes fluttering over heated green eyes. "Sammy, please," he whimpered.
Sam stroked his brother's slim chest gently, sliding his wide palm down to wrap around Dean's waist. He kissed Dean carefully, licking at the seam of his lips, swallowing his brother's soft little moans as he rubbed at Dean's hip. He didn't mean to tease, honestly; he just wanted to take his time, touch Dean all over, relish all of his brother's soft flesh.
It should have been a huge step for him to reach down and grasp Dean's erection. An intimacy never anticipated, something strange and shattering. Sam hadn't ever thought that he'd hold another man's dick in his hand, much less his brother's. But there really was nothing to it after all.
It was amazing how simple it was, just a small shift to accommodate his reach, his own hardness rubbing against Dean's hip, and then his brother's cock fit into his palm and curled fingers with easy grace. Perfect.
It was a lot like his own, only completely different, Sam mused with the part of his brain that wasn't currently shouting sex, sex, sex, sex at him. Not only was the angle wrong, but the size and shape were different. Dean was of a respectable length and width for a fourteen year old, actually quite well endowed, Sam thought with his limited range of experience for comparison, but Sam was bigger. He was bigger than most men, Sam was aware, with neither vanity or false humility. It wasn't anything he'd earned; just the way he'd been born and had grown.
But all that aside, Dean's dick was of a good size and shape, and it seemed to have been formed to fit perfectly into Sam's hand. He held it, lightly, carefully at first, testing the heat, the soft skin over inflexible hardness. Dean was leaking, though not as copiously as Sam tended to, and Sam instinctively swept the pad of his thumb over the tip, smearing it through the hot liquid beading there.
He was so focused on what he was doing that he barely noticed Dean whining and writhing against him, clinging tightly to his arm to the point that it was really starting to hurt, but Sam couldn't shift his attention for as long as it would have taken to ask Dean to let go.
"Is this okay?" he breathed, staring down at Dean avidly, rubbing gently at his brother's throbbing hard-on. Dean's eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open as he gasped for breath, his face drawn in an expression that was so close to pained that Sam was concerned for a moment. But he was pretty damned certain that Dean wasn't in pain.
Dean slitted his eyes open with what looked like a real effort, staring up at Sam, a little dazed. His hair was darkened around his temples with perspiration and more was beaded above his upper lip. Sam bent his head and nuzzled his mouth sloppily against Dean's, kissing the salty sheen away then sucking a moment on the plushy lower lip.
"You still with me?" he asked, only partially kidding. Okay, it was a mostly serious question. He was still concerned that he was going to say or do something to throw Dean into a flashback of abuse and degradation, even though so far his brother seemed to be reacting favorably. "Dean? Let me know if I do something you don't want, okay?" he urged, holding still for a moment, trying to connect through the steamy heat rising between them.
"Want you, Sammy," Dean murmured, his hips remaining still and unmoving as he looked up, meeting Sam's eyes with an intensity that was only partially about sexual arousal. He loosened his grip on Sam's arms, freeing a hand to press against the side of Sam's face, fingertips tracking through sweat that Sam hadn't been aware of until that moment. "Just want you."
"You have me," Sam averred, only realizing as the words left his mouth how very "chick flick" they sounded. But to hell with that; it was only the truth. "Please tell me if I do something you're not comfortable with, Dean."
"You'd never hurt me, Sammy," Dean said softly, petting the side of Sam's head a little awkwardly. "I know that you wouldn't."
"Never," Sam vowed fervently, dipping to plaster a wet kiss to Dean's mouth, overflowing with emotion. He had Dean's dick in his hand and they were sharing saliva, but right now this was about so much more than sex. It was all about their hearts and the love that they shared between them. "I'll never do anything to hurt you, Dean."
"Then anything you do is okay," Dean responded simply, smiling up at Sam with an easy acceptance. "But I'd really like it a lot if you'd move your hand, Sammy."
Sam let out a strangled chuckle, bowing to butt his forehead lightly against Dean's, then did as directed and gave Dean's throbbing shaft a good solid upward stroke. Dean cried out, his hips pushing up into the sensation, but he was limited in how much he could move with Sam's larger, heavier body still resting partially atop his.
Sam's kiss muffled any other exclamations that might have followed. He was willing now to believe Dean when he said that this was all right, that Dean trusted him. Sam wondered what he had ever done to deserve this trust; leaving for college, getting his stupid ass nearly snatched by a supernatural bitch, not managing to rescue his brother for two years... but he understood, really. He felt it too. And even though they'd had their problems while growing up, there had always been an abiding undercurrent of love and the fact that they'd do just about anything for each other. Well, Sam had always known Dean would do anything for him. It was good to see now that the knowledge was reversed, was mutual. It was so good to know that Dean now trusted Sam the same way Sam had always -- even when it had been largely subconscious -- trusted his big brother.
Sam was the big brother now, and it was his turn. In more ways than one, actually.
He was really at the wrong angle to be jerking Dean off, and it was beginning to make his wrist hurt, but the soft needy little noises that Dean was making as he clung to Sam made it more than worth the effort. It probably would have been better with some lube, but Sam wasn't about to leave off now to hunt some down.
Dean's lazily leaking precum and some saliva as Sam paused briefly to lick his palm helped to ease the movement of his hand. He could taste Dean's spunk along with his own sweat, and the rich tang of it turned him on a lot more than he had expected. The way that Dean keened and clung to him, hips worked in counterpoint to Sam's slow, careful rhythm made it even harder for Sam to retain control, but he doggedly held on, because he was going to make this good for his brother. Dean had already given him one hell of a blowjob -- a quick one, but that had been Sam's fault for coming so soon -- and even though that had been something that Dean had wanted, had begged for, Sam still felt like it was his turn. He'd never been a selfish lover, and after what he'd been through for the past two years Dean deserved a little attention focused solely on him.
Dean's kissing had devolved into open-mouthed panting, and Sam levered back up to watch his brother's face as he wound him up tighter and tighter with arousal. His hand was gliding more easily now, slick with precum, and Sam kept his grip firm but careful, his movements quick enough to give relief but not demanding that Dean reach orgasm yet. Dean's smooth skin was dewed with perspiration, his light freckles swallowed up by the pink flush that suffused his face and neck. His long bangs were clinging to his sharp cheekbones, his mouth lax and open in a plush red circle.
"S-Sammy, so good," Dean slurred, cracking his eyes open, the familiar green dark with unfamiliar lust, lower lashes damp and starred with moisture that Sam couldn't tell from tears or collected sweat. "Sammy touching me.... But I want.... I want...."
Sam caught his breath as Dean squirmed under him, his hand stilling again. He knew what Dean meant; whether it was obvious or whether they were just on the same wavelength. Could he? Did he even want to? Dean wanted him to.
"Okay, Dean," he soothed, not sure if he was agreeing or just trying to calm his brother. He let his hand reach the base of Dean's cock, then slip lower, palming and gently, delicately massaging Dean's balls. Maybe if he eased himself into the idea....
Not that he was turned off by it. Not that he wasn't turned on. Hell, he hadn't researched anal sex out of idle curiosity -- if he'd ever found a girl who was game, he'd have been eager to try it out -- but the reality was a lot different than the theory. Especially when this was Dean, a male, his brother.... But it was Dean, his brother, and that ultimately decided him.
And it wasn't about where he was touching Dean, wasn't about what that touch would mean, wasn't about the fact that it was gay and incestuous and anyone else in the world -- except Missouri, evidently -- would declare it to be a perversion. It was about the connection, the intimacy, and it was about the fact that Dean was asking him for it. Not only did Dean want it, but Sam realized that he actually wanted it too. He never would have thought so, but here he was, and it was okay. More than okay, it was abruptly vital that he do this thing for Dean, for himself, for them both.
Trailing his fingertips over Dean's perineum, much the way he had teased his nipples, Sam then cautiously ran them down into the cleft between Dean's buttocks. The way that Dean was lying, with one leg trapped beneath Sam and the other tucked up by Sam's waist, he was opened up and so Sam found his anus with no difficulty. The delicate flesh was damp with sweat but also slick and soft with a smooth foreign substance.
"Dean?" Sam queried, pulling his hand away, not because he didn't want to touch, but simply so that he and Dean would be able to speak, wouldn't be overwhelmed with the physical sensations. "Dean?"
"Sammy, don't stop," Dean practically whined, his eyes opening from where they had clenched tightly shut while Sam had been handling him. He threw his arms around Sam's neck again, clinging and staring up at his brother with a desperate, avid expression.
"I'm not stopping," Sam assured him, kissing Dean's forehead lightly, licking Dean's perspiration off his lips. "I just want to ask you what you used."
"Used?" Dean parroted, uncomprehending for a moment, then he blinked and cast his gaze down. "Oh."
Sam blinked, taken aback a little. So far nothing about sex had seemed to embarrass Dean, but he looked a little ashamed now.
"I... um... I stole some lotion from Missouri," Dean blurted, startling Sam. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Sam cooed, as Dean's eyes filled with tears. "No, really, it's okay, I'm sure she wouldn't mind, won't even miss it," he said, kissing the corner of Dean's mouth, his cheek, his lips, then kissed away some of the fat tears that slipped free. "It's okay, Dean, really."
"I sh-shouldn't've," Dean hiccuped, clinging more tightly to Sam but beginning to calm. "Shouldn't have.... But I couldn't ask. And I n-needed...."
"It's okay, really," Sam repeated, trying not to grin. Dean had sucked his brother's cock, wanted Sam to fuck him, and this was what he got upset over; having lifted a bottle of lotion from their hostess. It was so... it was just so Dean. The new Dean, and Sam was suddenly filled with an overwhelming rush of fierce love for the boy trembling in his arms. Older or younger, whole or broken, God, he loved Dean so fucking much!
"She's a mind reader, Dean," he continued, kissing Dean's chin. "I'm sure she knew you were taking it, and I'm sure she didn't mind."
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Sam slid a finger into him to the second knuckle, and whatever Dean had been going to say was lost in a strangled cry.
It was easier than Sam had expected, tight and hot past anything he'd ever dreamed or experienced, but easier... but then, Dean had said that he'd prepared himself. Sam only hesitated a moment before he freed his finger, to the tune of a feverish whimper from Dean, then slid two back in, as deeply as they would go.
"Sammy!" Dean cried, bucking up into Sam, not to try to escape the penetration, but more an involuntary jerk in reaction to the stimulation. His cock spurted, thick trailers of precum smearing against Sam's forearm as he flexed his hand, testing the heat, the tightness, the strangeness of the place he found himself. "Oh!"
"Where's the lotion?" Sam asked, panting against Dean's sweat-beaded forehead. Dean was still well slicked inside, but Sam wanted something more to ease the way. His cock felt huge where it was throbbing neglected against the mattress, and there was no way he was putting it inside his brother without a lot of lubrication. Even if Dean could take it like that, it didn't mean Sam wanted to give it to him like that.
He had to repeat his question twice more before Dean was able to focus enough to respond, gesturing wordlessly at the small stand beside the bed then locking his arms around Sam's neck again and straining up to kiss him.
Sam indulged Dean for a moment, granting a wet lick at his brother's tongue and lower lip, before he pulled away. Dean keened as he loosed his hand long enough to grab the bottle that was indeed sitting conspicuously next to the cheap rotary phone, and Sam made a quick job of popping the cap and squeezing some of the thick, unscented lotion onto his first two fingers. He sank them into Dean again, and his brother gasped, arching up, holding on and shaking as though he was in danger of coming apart at the seams. Maybe he was; Sam certainly felt that way himself.
It was a little like being lost in a feverish dream, a small bubble of time and space that held only Sam and Dean. It reflected only their heartbeats back to them, their shared pulse becoming Sam's whole world. He could smell their mutual arousal, thick and musky and urgent. Dean's flesh was soft and smooth everywhere it pressed against his, slick with sweat, heat radiating from his body. He could taste Dean, clean and salty and somehow familiar on his lips and tongue. Dean's voice was in his ears, not articulating but youthful and eager nonetheless. Urging him onward. Not that Sam needed any such encouragement.
It had quickly and easily gone from being an unimaginable act to something that was vital to their continued existence. Sam's cock was letting him know on no uncertain terms that it wanted to be inside of Dean as soon as possible, and the way that he was clenching and throbbing around Sam's intrusive fingers, Dean's ass seemed to second the sentiment.
Okay, if he was envisioning sentient body parts, it was well and beyond the time to move this onward, Sam decided.
"Dean," he murmured. "Dean," and then his brother was kissing him fiercely and Sam kissed Dean back with an answering hunger but that wasn't getting them any closer to the desired goal. "Dean," he repeated, raising his head and staring down at his brother's passion-flushed face. "Do you want to be on top?"
"You're already on top," Dean slurred in a desire-drugged voice, the unspoken "duh" nonetheless explicit.
Sam rolled his eyes. Even during lust-charged sex, even with Dean broken and previously victimized, they managed to exasperate each other. It was comforting, though. This whole sex thing was new, but they were Sam and Dean Winchester and always would be. Brothers first, everything else afterward; even when they were in the process of becoming lovers.
"I know that, Dean," he growled, flexing his fingers slightly in vengeance, dragging a small cry out of his brother's throat. "I just meant, did you want to, um, you know... ride." He hadn't thought that he'd be able to blush when he was already so passion flushed, but evidently there were still some things that could embarrass him even when he was planning on fucking his brother.
"I like us the way we are, Sammy," Dean panted out, wrapping his leg up and around Sam's hip, and that trapped his arm a little uncomfortably between them, but the forceful thrust Dean made with his pelvis had him convinced that Dean not only knew what he was saying but he also meant it. "Like it better if you were in me, though."
Sam didn't bother pointing out that he was inside Dean, three fingers in now, to the third knuckle, because he knew what Dean meant and there was a time for brotherly banter and this was not it.
"Yeah," he groaned, giving Dean's slick ass a few more thrusts, feeling it squeeze his fingers incredibly tightly, making his brother whine and writhe on the bedspread. "Yeah, I agree."
The things he'd read on the internet came back to him, and he grabbed one of the hotel pillows, raising Dean's ass and propping it underneath the base of his spine. At first Dean vocally protested the removal of Sam's fingers, the rising of his body away from Dean's, but once he realized exactly what Sam was doing, he relaxed and went along with it with one last murmur of discontentment.
Sam eyed his brother, lying there. Thighs spread, dick hard and leaking against his lower belly, his cheeks flushed and shiny with arousal and sweat, his lips fat and red, chest heaving as he gasped for air. His pink hole was glistening with the lotion that Sam was glad Dean'd had the foresight to steal from Missouri, and it definitely wasn't the same as the inviting pink folds of a woman's entrance, but it held its own fascination, and the knowledge that he was about to bury his cock in there, that Dean wanted him to more than anything else in the world, had said cock jumping, blurting precum in a thick stream down the shaft that, actually, tickled and annoyed.
Sam dealt with that simply enough. Filling his palm with the lotion, he didn't even wait long enough for it to warm up before grabbing himself and smearing it all over the shaft and head of his pulsing erection. The slight chill -- though, really, the lotion had been room temperature -- helped to prevent him from popping off right there. And it wasn't that Sam thought Dean would have minded if he'd come right then, all over his supine brother's stomach and crotch -- and that was a hot mental image to file away and maybe try later -- but Sam would have been a little humiliated, and that would have robbed him of the immediate chance of sliding home into that tempting heat and tightness.
Dean was reaching up for him, his hands trembling slightly, his face painted in shades of equal anxiety, impatience, and desire.
It didn't even matter what Dean was asking him; Sam knew the answer, and he knew what he had to do to fulfill them both. It was bizarre and unaccountable that things had reached this point, but it was so natural and so necessary that Sam couldn't see how they could have ended up anywhere else but here, in each other's arms.
Holding his erection with the hand that was still slick with lotion, Sam spread his thighs to either side of the pillow, maneuvering a little awkwardly until the head of his cock was pressed to Dean's anus. Dean bowed up, his arms around Sam's neck again, where they belonged, and as Sam slid in, almost unexpectedly, one slow, easy glide, his legs came up to lock around Sam's hips as well.
"Oh fuck!" Sam may have shouted, and Dean made a loud sound echoing his, though there didn't seem to be any actual words in his cry. Everything in Dean tightened up, coiling toward Sam as though he was the only thing that existed, and the angle was still awkward, a little uncomfortable, not the same as fucking a woman at all, but it was so much better because it was Dean. Sam surged forward, a little worried that he would end up being too rough and damaging his brother, but right now all that his brain would tell him was to get closer, deeper, to get inside Dean the way that Dean was inside him, and they were in each other to the heart of them.
He stopped there, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, his cheek pressed against Dean's because even with the awkward way that two males fit together when they were face to face, Dean was small enough that that Sam was able to bend and hold his brother to him. And there was no way Dean was going to loosen the arms he had wrapped around Sam's neck and shoulders, his desperate grip and great gulping gasps for breath made that much clear.
"Inside you, Dean," Sam whispered, licking a hot swath along the point of his cheekbone, then sticking his tongue in Dean's ear and making him writhe beneath him. They both caught their breath and Sam was aware of the fact that he whimpered, which was a little embarrassing but it wasn't as though he could help himself. Damn, that had felt amazing. His instincts were urging him to begin moving, to set up a steady pounding rhythm guaranteed to make them both come, but he wasn't quite ready for that yet. He wanted, he needed, to savor this moment. "I'm... I'm inside of you...."
"Sammy," Dean panted, and Sam managed to raise his head, meeting his brother's sparkling eyes. Dean's face was rosy and glistening, and he tossed his head back, his hair tumbling against the pillow in a tangled halo. He licked pressure bruised lips and grinned up at Sam. "You're... you're such a girl."
It kind of hurt to laugh when he was this hard, Sam discovered. But it had the side effect of making Dean groan and go cross-eyed at the vibration, which was good. That was about as much revenge as Sam was looking to get right now.
Deciding that Dean was right and he really ought to stop talking and start moving, Sam drew his cock out with a long, slow slide.
"Fuuuuck," he moaned, as Dean whined and convulsed beneath him. The push back in was a lot more quick and forceful, but Dean took that in stride. With eagerness, if his small cry, his jerk into the penetration, and the hard heels digging into the small of Sam's back were any indication. "Oh fuck," Sam gritted out, because, really, he was beyond any more eloquent verbalizations. "F-fuck!"
"Fuck me, Sammy," Dean directed, lunging up and plastering his mouth to Sam's. Sam followed the kiss down eagerly enough, but then broke it as he made a few shallow thrusts and their teeth clashed together a little too painfully. Dean let out a discontented noise, but then Sam drove his cock in even deeper and that seemed to placate him more than a little.
Wrapping Dean up in his arms, already all wrapped up in Dean's ensnaring limbs, Sam set to give them both as much pleasure as he could manage. Gripping Dean's thigh in one hand, he yanked down, pulling Dean's rear into his hips, grinding in as deep as he could get, pulsing there for a few heartbeats, before he began to drive in and out with long, steady thrusts. Dean bit back a low cry and Sam ground his teeth together to hold his own in check.
The hotel pillow was virtually useless, Sam discovered, its fillings sinking down almost as flat as a pancake after a few solid thrusts, but sliding one thigh under Dean in its place seemed to work okay. He'd have liked to straighten, to pump into Dean from a better angle, to grab his brother's neglected hard-on and jerk him off, but Dean was clinging to him with a fervor that would not be broken. So Sam had to work around that.
They strained together, not kissing but their labored breathing filling the small space between their faces, Dean's little gasps and cries a counterpoint to Sam's small groans and his grunts of exertion. There should have been nothing beautiful about this. There certainly was no finesse. Sam ought to have chosen a better position and neither of them was touching Dean's dick. And yet there couldn't have been anything more perfect. Sam had never had sex this intense, not even his first time. Of course, he'd never had sex with anyone he'd loved as much as he loved Dean. And Dean might mock him and call him a woman for the sentiment, but he was allowed to think it in the privacy of his own head, to feel it in his heart.
Sam had one hand still locked on Dean's thigh, the other holding onto Dean's shoulder to keep him from being driven up into the headboard by each forceful slam of Sam's hips against his rear, and Dean's arms were wrapped around his neck, so Sam was taken completely by surprise when Dean stiffened, letting out a small choked cry, his head snapping back, his grip on Sam tightening almost painfully. There was a sudden gout of wet heat against Sam's belly and Dean's ass convulsed around his cock to the point that it dragged a wild yell out of him as well. Sam would never have thought that a male could reach orgasm without his cock being touched, but Dean just had.
"Oh fuck," he gritted out, feeling Dean's come spread between them, and that was all that it took. The heat that had been building, building, building in waves with each pulse inside of his brother's body suddenly peaked, bursting through him. It was a little like being hit, only with insane pleasure filling his skull and shaking his limbs instead of pain. Sam curled into Dean, his forehead pressing into Dean's shoulder, teeth gritted, his hands gripping tightly enough to leave bruises as his breath was ripped out of his body, and with a muffled roar he shot his third load of the evening, deeply inside of Dean.
Everything went away for a couple of heartbeats, then Sam was aware that he'd somehow managed to fall sideways, not squashing Dean even when he was insensate, and they were no longer joined but Dean was curled so tightly against him that they might as well have been for how close they lay together.
"Holy shit," Sam gasped, blinking, feeling dazed and fuzzy, the way that only the best, most intense orgasms left him. He could feel Dean petting him, and with a loose-limbed effort he tugged his brother's smaller body up against his own. "That was...."
"Mm-hm," Dean hummed in response, stretching up to kiss Sam lightly. Sam kissed him back as eagerly as he was able when he still felt as though his brains had melted inside his skull and all his muscles had similarly melted.
"Holy shit," he repeated, but a little more calmly now. He was sliding into the lazy, contented haze of an amazing afterglow, and intended to fully enjoy cuddling with his brother.
"Don't you feel silly for waiting, Sammy?" Dean asked, sounding both exhausted and smug at once, pressing his lips to Sam's chin.
"Oh, be quiet," Sam grumbled, running his hand over his brother's stomach, smearing Dean's come into his skin. It was messy, sloppy, and a little gross and slimy now that it was cooling, but damn, that had been hot. "No one likes a know-it-all."
"You don't just like me, Sammy," Dean said easily, running his fingers through Sam's sweat-soaked hair. "You love me."
And even though he groaned, it wasn't as though Sam was going to argue with that confident declaration. There wasn't anything that was more true, after all.