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I need your scent all over me
I need to taste your blasphemy
I need to know with certainty
The nectar was worth the squeeze
- Otep, “Special Pets”
*
Part One
The first time Dean sees it, he almost doesn’t recognize Sam. The men in the scene are all shirtless, but only one is naked. It’s not Sam, but Dean is still shocked. That’s his baby brother in the leather pants, his baby brother, dick exposed and hard through the fly of said leather pants.
It takes a minute for his brain to recognize the images his eyes are seeing. It’s like the really bad hunts, where everyone is mutilated or in pieces. His mind just doesn’t get it. Dean figures it out after five or so minutes, a hot flush creeping up his neck when he realizes why.
Porn.
And fuck, but that’s embarrassing. His brother is practically re-enacting a BDSM porn flick... only there are no chicks.
The look on Sam’s face... shit, it’s molten, it’s want and hunger. He’s so absorbed in watching him that when someone grabs his shoulder, he nearly takes the hand there off at the wrist. “You interested?” the man connected to the wrist asks. “He’s been here every night this weekend.”
That explains a lot, Dean thinks, and shakes his head. “Just watching.”
Mystery man laughs, and winks. “Feeling intimidated?” Dean makes a face, which makes the mystery man laugh harder. “Not your usual scene, I can see that. Natural sub?”
Dean snorts. “Not so much.”
Something on the stage draws Dean’s attention away from the mystery man. Sam is easing something into his victim’s ass. The whole crowd goes silent, like they’re all holding their breath. Once Sam is finished seating whatever it is inside the bound man, it becomes instantly obvious that it’s a vibrator.
A loud buzz fills the room and the guy instantly starts moaning. Sam’s lounging back in a chair, still hard and... obvious. The ‘sub’ is writhing now, arching against his bonds. The buzzing goes up a notch and so does the pitch of the guy’s moans.
Mystery man grabs at Dean, hauling him back against his chest. “That man up there, he gets offers from unowned subs, he could have anyone.” Mystery man grabs at Dean’s crotch and Dean jerks away. “He says,” the guy continues, “he’s waiting for the right person to keep as his own.”
The vibration goes up a notch again, and the sub’s moans are practically screams. Dean realizes the poor guy is wearing a cock ring. (With some really kinky girls he’s done the same thing, but this just seems cruel.) His own dick twitches, in sympathy or arousal he’s not quite sure which.
The vibrations go up again, and the sub really starts screaming. Words, this time. “Please, oh fuck, oh please Master, oh god, oh please...” Sam smirks, the light making him look sinister.
The vibrations go up another time. Dean’s at the perfect angle to see the bound and twitching dick of the desperate man. “Fuck, fuck Please, Master Please, just let me come. Please.” The sub’s really begging now.
“No,” Sam says simply. And the vibrations leap up in pitch again. The sub doesn’t last much longer, he arches as far as his bonds will allow and passes out, his dick twitching madly. An orgasm without the relief of coming.
The vibrator clicks off and Sam puts down the remote control before standing. He jerks himself off as he walks towards the sub and comes all over his slaves bound and exposed genitals.
The crowd disperses, going to back rooms or home or wherever they need to go to get rid of the absolutely insane sexual energy thrumming through everyone. Dean’s about to slip away when a man just about Sam’s height but with none of his breadth gets up on the stage to loose the still unconscious sub. “Jesus Christ,” he says to sam, angry. “He wasn’t your fucking sub, asshole.”
Sam shrugs one shoulder, looking unconcerned. “You gave him to me for the night.”
“You weren’t supposed to torture him,” the man growls, taking off the cock ring. The sub comes immediately without any other stimulation other than that.
Sam laughs. “He wanted to be tortured.” He eyes the Dom. “You’re a switch, aren’t you?”
The man flushes. “Fuck you, asshole.”
Dean almost intervenes when the angry dom takes a swing at Sam. Sam blocks easily though, and Dean relaxes.
“Whatever, man,” his brother says lightly. “Learn your sub better.”
Dean takes that time to escape. If there’s one thing he learned from the experience, it’s that Sam could be in danger. Angry doms or... STDs... or... it’s hardwired into Dean’s DNA to want to protect Sam.
And there has to be a better way for him to do this.
There’s only one thing to do.
Research.
*
When Sam does his... thing... he doesn’t have nightmares when he finally does sleep. It’s the first thing Dean notices. The second thing he notices is Sam is lighter, after too. He moves faster, swifter, he’s more graceful. Looser. Happier.
This is something that helps him, for whatever fucked up reason. And as far as Dean knew, Sam had never shown an interest in men. Other than academically and maybe during that short disastrous night with the Siren.
Dean waits until Sam is gone for the night, muttering something about finding a clothing store, and Dean immediately opens up the laptop. He types into the search engine ‘gay porn’. He feels like a teenage boy again though and deletes the entry before it loads fully. He reloads the page and under the Google logo the blinking cursor mocks him.
Finally he types, “doms and subs” and gets a wiki site that’s pretty helpful. Drawing on his knowledge of what he’d seen the night before. Sam had denied the slave orgasm so Dean opened a new page and typed in “orgasm denial.” There were websites upon websites dedicated to the concept, and Dean pulls out - he glances at one of the five credit cards in his wallet; “George Lennon” - George’s Lennon’s credit card and orders platinum memberships for the ones that look the best.
He can’t download the porn but he can look at it over the internet. The most promising is kink.com - and he gets a little distracted looking at all the lesbian porn before putting his brain back online. His hard on is throbbing and this isn’t going to work. Gay porn, Dean, gay porn.
He switches channels on his favorite site and takes a deep breath. He can do this.
For Sam.
*
The confrontation with Sam could have gone better, Dean thinks as the door slams behind his brother. It was that or he should have parked himself in front of the door before speaking.
... Which actually didn’t sound any better and probably would have ended with the door slammed and a broken nose.
Dean leans his forehead on the door and sighs, straining his ears for any sign that Sam hasn’t gone far. The keys to the Impala are still in his pocket so wherever Sam decided to go, it was within walking distance. Words had never been his strongest point - actions spoke much louder to him and he seldom screwed those up by using the wrong ones.
Sam at least, had left his stuff when he stormed off, so he had to come back sometime. And Dean would be waiting.
He stripped down to his black boxer briefs, and debated taking them off too. It wasn’t exactly warm, but he’d read somewhere that prospective doms liked to view their property. And he’d bought a cock ring that he knew fit him. He chewed on his lip for a second, before slipping off the boxer briefs and tossing them into a corner.
He could do this. He jerked himself quickly and as soon as he got hard enough he slipped on the cock ring. He made sure to have everything ready, cock already throbbing. He’d done his research, he could do this.
Sam would probably have his own array of toys, unless he wasn’t collecting and was just using things that belonged to the clubs he was going to. But Dean had gone shopping. It hadn’t been easy sneaking off to the nearest P.O. Box to pick up his new toys. He left them in full display on the bed closest to the door. Sam would see them as soon as he walked in.
Dean knelt in the middle of the room, limbs shaking. Could he defer all control to his little brother? The kid he changed diapers on, the kid he taught to tie his shoes. Could he have sex with his brother?
Would he keep his brother safe?
Yes, yes, and yes.
All that left to do was wait for Sam to come home and hope that his gesture was more accepted than his words.
*
Dean tenses when he hears Sam at the door. Sam opens it and stills instantly. Dean can tell through the blindfold he’d tied around his eyes that Sam hadn’t turned on the lights yet. It’s probably late.
“Dean...” he says slowly, drawing the word out. “What is this?” Dean doesn’t answer. It’s hard to remember the rules of the game, but he does remember that the concept of ‘permission’ is something to keep in mind. Sam hasn’t given him permission yet, and so he can’t answer.
He makes the right choice because Sam says, “you can answer me.”
“I’m bad at this,” Dean says instantly. “I thought I’d show you instead of telling you.”
It’s hard not to look around for a shadow across the blindfold, looking for Sam. For a big dude, he’s freakishly quiet when he moves. It’s actually why Dean went for the blindfold in the first place; the temptation to open his eyes and look would be strong and he’s not sure he’s stronger than it is.
“How long have you been practicing?” Sam asks, and Dean’s a little confused.
“Two weeks?” he says, with a question mark at the end.
“Asking or telling?” Sam rejoins, and Dean smiles.
“Telling.”
Sam is quiet again and Dean doesn’t know if he’s moved, and he can feel himself tensing up. “Safe word?”
“Impala.” The answer is instantaneous. It was one of the first things all those websites said he needed. He loved his car dearly, more than dearly, but it wasn’t something he’d bring up during sex.
Sam’s voice, when it comes again, comes from the other side of him and Dean twitches. “How many men have you been with?”
Dean cringes. “None.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No.” Dean doesn’t think that the guy from the club counts. They didn’t do anything and Dean brushed him off anyway. He’d been hit on by other men plenty of times before - with looks like his, who could help themselves? - but he’d never taken anyone up on their offers. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing right now, or a bad thing.
Sam clicks his tongue. “Fair enough. What aren’t you comfortable with? Be honest, I won’t judge you.”
“Enemas,” Dean’s answer comes right away, startling a laugh out of Sam. “I’m sorry, I watched the porn and I... no. Just no.” He shudders, before realizing he’d broke character. “I’m sorry... what do you want me to call you?”
Sam sits on the bed beside him, Dean can hear it creak. “Sam is fine,” he answers. “Sir is dad and Master is... stupid. I always want to laugh when the subs at the places call me that.” Dean nods a little, thankful. He’d hoped Sam had wanted to stay Sam and not be Sir. “What else don’t you like?”
“Sounding. Scat.” Dean did a lot of research.
Sam chuckles again. “Fair enough. What are you into?” He must have looked over at the other bed, and says, “these looks interesting. A paddle, you like to be spanked. Anal plugs, one of which vibrates. Dildos, all vibrators. Hmm... I think I know what started this particular kink, Dean.” Dean shivers all over, at the sound. It’s the same tone Sam used at the club.
His idea had worked. The knot of worry loosened in his chest and he suddenly could breathe a little easier.
At least until Sam spoke again. Dread curled low in Dean’s stomach, and really wished he could see his brother. “Can you prove it, Dean?” Sam had asked and Dean didn’t know how to answer. Not honestly, and not without giving away more than he could afford to lose. “Can you prove to me that you’re mine, and only mine?”
“How can I do that?” Dean answered, mind racing.
Sam sits back on the bed, looking considering. “Could you let me touch you, arouse you and make you burn and not let you come?” Dean tenses at the words but his cock twitches tellingly. Sam’s eyebrow quirks. “Well then, that looks obvious. Don’t move.”
He slides off the bed and lands beside Dean, settling down beside him. Dean sits as still as he’s able at least until Sam’s hand snakes out and takes his cock. He can’t help the accidental jerk of his hips. For a second he’s a little afraid that Sam will punish him for moving, but Sam just chuckles and tightens his grip. “We’re not going to have a problem with this part, are we Dean?”
If Dean is a little breathless when he responds, Sam doesn’t comment. “No,” he says, twitching.
Sam jerks him off slow and sweet for what seems like hours and when Dean feels his orgasm start to kindle at the base of his spine, his hips jerk and – nothing happens. The cry rips out of his throat before he realizes it’s even there and disappointment swirls in his chest. He wants to fucking come damn it
He turns his head towards where he hears Sam’s low chuckle and scowls through the blind fold. “Please,” he asks, as nicely as he’s able.
“No, I think not. I think you’re going to get up and take a cold shower and we’ll do this again tomorrow.” Sam sounds blase and noncommital but there’s definitely a line of heat through his tone and no one ever said Dean wasn’t a considerate lover.
“What about you?” he asks, fingers twitching with the desire to reciprocate.
Sam presses a kiss to Dean’s temple. “I come when you do, Dean.”
So Dean gets slowly and painfully off the floor and into the shower where he is so tempted to jerk himself off some more, but doesn’t. He’s not sure why he doesn’t, maybe because he’s still wearing the cock ring, maybe because he knows Sam will be disappointed in him.
He comes out of the shower holding the blindfold and his towel in one hand, the cock ring in the other. “It came off when I got soft,” he says and hands it to Sam.
Sam looks at him narrow eyed for a second before nodding. “Good night, Dean,” he says after a pause.
“Good night, Sam.”
They get into their separate beds and sleep until morning, but after that when they stop for the night, the bed is always a king.
*
It takes a week of being jerked off and not being allowed to orgasm before Dean’s control breaks. It’s three days sooner than Dean thinks and four days longer than Sam’s estimation. Sam puts Dean through another session before sending him to the shower and when Sam opens the door - entirely out of needing something from his kit and not because he doesn’t trust Dean - he finds his brother jerking off. The cock ring is still on, which is something but Sam immediately flashes hot with rage and turns the water off.
It says something about how far gone Dean is that he only notices Sam when he does that rather than when the door opened. “On the bed,” Sam says, a note of steel threading his tone.
“What the hell are you going to do?” Dean asks, hand still wrapped around his red and angry looking penis.
Sam smiles and it’s not a safe look, Dean swallows hard. “Get on,” Sam says, pleasantly enough, “the bed.”
Dean takes a towel with him and dries off as he walks towards their shared bed. “Now what, Sam?” he asks, heart beating faster.
“Arms over your head, legs spread.” Slowly Dean obeys. Things haven’t been too different since starting this... whatever this is, but he has a feeling that’s about to change. Sam pulls leather hand cuffs out of his duffle, and they’re nice, real nice and probably expensive. Dean can’t help but frown a little. Has he used those on other people? “I bought these for you,” Sam says and Dean’s eyes go wide. Can Sam still read his mind, or... “I don’t need to be a mind reader to be able to read your face,” Sam says with an easy smile.
He looks like Dean’s kid brother again and something shakes loose in Dean’s chest.
“Do you trust me, Dean?” And there’s the crux of it. Dean nods reflexively. It’s true, even and maybe especially after the last year they had, he still trusts Sam with his life. It’s his heart he’s not so sure of anymore. The clinking of the locks catching regains Dean’s attention and his eyes are riveted on Sam as he pulls more things from his bag.
First a tube, and Dean’s no stranger to anal sex. He’s fucked a lot of girls and some of them liked some fun things - like anal. But he was pitching, then. Not catching.
Sam pours a little onto his fore finger of his right hand and rubs it around. “I’m going to lock your legs down, too,” he adds absently. “You remember your safe word?”
“Impala,” Dean says instantly. “I won’t forget.”
Sam hooks rope like things around his ankles and Dean tugs at them experimentally, realizing the rope loops around the bottom of the bed. His legs are completely spread and he’s totally exposed.
It’s been years since Dean blushed, and considering how hard his dick his, he’s surprised he can even manage it at the moment. Sam’s lube wet finger presses against his ass, rubbing it into the hole there. Dean tenses but his brother doesn’t do anything more than rub little maddingly circles there until Dean starts shifting his hips trying to get more friction.
He’s so fucking hard he’s ready to burst and he wants more.
Sam eases half his finger in, adding a little more lube. He rotates it around and hits something Dean was only aware of from doctors visits as a teen. His prostrate shoots off electrical sparks that darken his vision and rips a cry from his throat. Sam smiles and touches it again, the smile widening into a grin when Dean’s hips twist up violently.
He puts in half of another finger, pumping shallowly and ignoring Dean’s prostate even though Dean’s whimpering and sweating. “I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” Sam says meditatively, twisting his fingers left and right slowly. “I don’t need to prepare you that much for what I’m going to introduce to you.”
Dean’s eyes fly open when Sam removes his fingers and pulls out a slim black toy. It doesn’t look like much, narrower than a mag light, with a slightly bulbous head. It’s obviously a dildo, but it doesn’t look like it’ll stretch him too much. “This still okay, Dean?”
“Yes, Sam,” he answers instantly, trying to reel down the desire throbbing in his cock. He’s just started to breathe again when Sam nudges the dildo into Dean. Covered in lube it slides easily, thin enough not to bother him.
Sam seats it there, and slides up the bed to press his knee against where it protrudes out of his brother. “This way,” he says authoritatively, “it won’t fall out. And I can feel how desperate you are.” Sam gives Dean’s balls a squeeze and Dean will swear under pain of death that he didn’t squeak when Sam did it.
The dildo presses against his prostrate but it doesn’t move so Dean just starts to relax when it turns on. It’s not just a fucking dildo. It’s a vibrator. Just like at the club Dean saw Sam at.
It buzzes to life, directly against his prostate and Dean shouts, hips and cock jerking. Pre come pumps slowly down his shaft and occasionally Sam drags his fingers through it, licking his hand clean.
When Dean is really twisting he turns the vibrator up a notch. Dean shouts again, biting his lip hard to keep the noises in. He suddenly realizes how the sub felt before, at that club, bound, and tortured.
It feels so fucking good.
The vibrator goes up another notch and Sam grins when Dean’s eyes roll back in his head. “Do you want a gag, Dean?” Dean shakes his head. “Good answer,” Sam says approvingly, and Dean relaxes the rest of the way against the bed.
At least until the vibrations go up again. Dean’s cock jumps so hard it hits his belly and leaves behind a thin sticky stream of pre come there. Sam leans down and licks it off, his hair brushing Dean’s dick. It’s almost too much, Dean shouts again, cock twitching like it’s orgasming but nothing happens. He falls limp against the bed, hips riding Sam’s thigh, trying to urge the vibrator out, trying to orgasm for real.
Instead, Sam turns up the vibrator again. “You’re doing so well Dean,” Sam says softly, against the skin of his belly. “Two more levels to go. Can you do that for me, Dean?” Dean nods frantically because maybe at the end of this, he finally gets to fucking come. Sam shifts his knee against Dean’s balls, pressing them tighter to his body and words finally burst out of Dean.
“Oh fuck,” he says, just lower than a shout. “Oh fuck, do that again.”
Sam does, flexing his thigh against his brother’s balls. They’re red, heavy, full and pulsing, ready to come at the most available time. Sam checks the cock ring again, just in case, making Dean moan again.
He turns the vibrator up. Dean’s thrashing everywhere now, fists tight around the chains holding the cuffs to the bed. His back is arched so far Sam could slide a pillow between his back and the bed if he wanted.
Dean’s pale skin is flushed and hungry looking so Sam licks his nipple and Dean bellows, twisting his chest away - or maybe towards Sam’s greedy mouth. He sucks in Dean’s left nipple and sucks hard. He can feel Dean’s cock jerk in another almost-orgasm as he does. He makes a mental note to remember that Dean’s nipples are sensitive.
He raises the vibration one last time, holding it against Dean’s prostate with numb fingers. Dean is begging now, really begging, words practically incomprehensible. When his cock jerks for a third time, and his dick is so wet with pre come it looks like lube, Sam lowers the vibrator slowly until it turns off.
Dean falls to the bed like his strings have been cut. Sam removes the vibrator but immediately replaces them with his fingers. “Dean, you awake?” he asks, amused.
“Uh huh,” Dean answers hoarsely, swallowing hard.
“Oh good. I’m going to give you a biology lesson. Have you ever heard of prostate milking?” Dean shakes his head, entirely body trembling. “It’s when someone, or something, massages your prostate until you orgasm. But when you orgasm, it empties you of everything, you probably won’t even be able to get it up again after orgasming from prostate milking. So we’re going to experiment with that tonight.” Dean’s eyes fly open and lock on Sam’s. “You wanted to come, so you get to come, Dean. Just not only once.” He smiles again, and it looks better on a shark. “As many times as I want.”
Dean whimpers again and jerks hard when Sam starts rubbing his fingers against his abused prostate. It feels so fucking good though that he’s humping Sam’s hand, muttering, growling, and pleading with him. “Please, please, fuck fuccck, please, take it off, take the ring off, fuck Sammy please I want to come so fucking bad, I’m gonna fucking die. Sammy....”
He can feel something building within him, starting at his toes and the top of his head, growing up or sliding down or both at the same time, sending sparks through his muscles and spine. His orgasm is converging on his prostate, he can feel it pulsing and his cock is twitching and suddenly the pressure keeping him from coming is gone and his body wastes no time.
He orgasms for what feels like forever, twitching with the aftershocks and opening his eyes to see his stomach, thighs, most of the bed and Sam’s hand are covered in his come. Sam licks it off him slowly, cat like, his eyes riveted on Dean’s face. “Breathe now,” Sam warns. “While you still can.”
Then the vibrator is back, on as high as it can go and Dean screams.
He orgasms four times that night.
He’s never slept better.
*
Things get even more intense after that. Sam can’t keep his hands off Dean once they reach that level and he’s completely unprepared for how good it feels. They’d always been a little more tactile than normal brothers, probably brought on from growing up on the road, and living in each others pockets since forever. But this is different.
They still sit on different sides of the tables when at diners, still hunt things and save people, Dean still takes the lead and keeps Sammy safe.
But, behind the doors of their motel room, there is only one bed, and Sam calls all the shots. Sometimes its fun, sometimes it’s maddening and sometimes Dean realizes how fucked he really is. Even though Sam hasn’t fucked him, maybe never will.
For the most part, Sam is content to explore, to touch. A week after Dean comes so hard he can’t get it up for two days afterwards, Sam comes into their room after dinner and he has that look in his eye.
“Strip,” he tells Dean in a voice made for sex. Dean doesn’t hesitate, not any more, and drops everything he’s doing. He slowly closes the lap top, standing as soon as it shuts down correctly. He takes off his shirts, unbuckling his belt and slipping off his jeans.
“Bed?” Dean asks, hoarsely.
Sam tilts his head to the side, looking eerily like Castiel. “Mm,” he murmurs, thinking about it. “For now.” Dean tugs off his boxer-briefs and lays face up on the bed. “There are rules,” Sam warns and Dean nods. “First rule, I’m not tying you up but you’re not allowed to move. Second rule, I’m not using the cock ring tonight but you’re not allowed to come. If you come, we start over.”
Dean has to swallow a few times before he can speak, his throat tight with arousal. “Okay,” he whispers. His cock is already hard and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the control Sam wants from him.
“This,” Sam continues when Dean’s eyes focus back on him, “is a lesson in touch.” He settles in next to Dean, placing one warm hand on Dean’s chest. “I am going to touch you everywhere, with just my hands, and maybe you’ll stop flinching all the time.”
Panic spears through Dean. “Sam,” he says.
“No, it’s okay Dean,” Sam responds. “I understand. We’ll learn together.” He smiles a little, the dimple smile Dean grew up craving. “You ready?”
The tension in the room rises to almost unbearable heights and Dean realizes that everything depends on him. He says no, and it ends. Sam goes back to the bars and the clubs, and an angry dom is going to take him out. “Yes,” he says, too loudly in the dimness of the room. “I’m ready.”
What he means is ‘I’m yours’ but at least Sam doesn’t make him say that part out loud.
Sam nods, his smile widening. “Close your eyes, Dean.” Dean does. He waits in darkness for the first touch. When it comes, he’s shocked even though he was expecting it. He jumps under Sam’s hand and his brother laughs. “Relax Dean.”
Slowly, with some effort, Dean relaxes under Sam’s hand, going boneless and mellow as Sam starts up a back rub. Dean’s weakness has always been a good back massage. Sam keeps at it for long enough that Dean feels like he could fall asleep just the way he is. He’s still hard, but it’s more abstract that anything else, he’s comfortable and mellow and everything just feels good.
He zones as Sam repositions his arms to work down the backs of them, then each hand, which feels like fucking heaven - not that he remembers ever being there, but that’s the way he thinks heaven should feel. Sam moves back to his lower back and Dean shifts a little to give him more access, smiling into the pillow at Sam’s low chuckle.
Sam works his way down both his legs and feet and Dean’s not sure he can stay awake for anything else. Until Sam’s hands find their way onto his ass and spread the cheeks. Dean’s too boneless to tense but he stiffens up. “Relax, Dean,” Sam murmurs, and he must be way closer than Dean thought because he can feel Sam’s breath on his back.
He makes a concentrated effort to, but then Sam’s mouth is on his skin, leaving small sucking bites from his lower back all the way down. He twitches, feeling his cock echo the movement where it’s trapped between his body and the bed. Then Sam does the impossible. Sam spreads his ass cheeks even farther and lays his lips on the hole he finds there. Dean bites down on the pillow and tries not to hump his brother’s face.
It should feel gross, but it feels fucking fantastic. Sam licks at him while using his fingers to massage his ass, perineum and the underside of his balls - which he didn’t know were that sensitive, holy shit. Dean can’t even help the noises he’s making, he tries to bite them back but they’re escaping anyway. He can feel Sam’s smile against his skin though and eventually even gives up trying.
Finally after an eternity of torture, Sam pulls away with a wet slurping noise and says, a trifle hoarsely, “roll over, Dean.”
It takes two false starts before Dean can roll over and his eyes go wide when he sees his cock. It’s huge. Red, throbbing and it looks angry. Dean squeaks and closes his eyes quickly.
He’s not going to last.
But Sam starts out at his feet again, giving the tops of each foot and leg a thorough rub down until the throbbing in his cock abates somewhat. Each time he works his way up Dean’s thigh, Dean gets ready for his brother’s hands on his cock, but once each leg is done, Sam skips right over his dick and goes for his belly.
Sam’s hands trace every scar Dean has, massaging lightly over each hip bone, long palm rolls over the skin on his stomach, then back down with just his finger nails. Dean’s covered in goose bumps by the time Sam moves up to his chest.
He’s just started to relax again when Sam pinches both his nipples at the same time. They’re both surprised when he comes. Sam blinks, then cracks a grin. “I knew you were sensitive Dean, but really?”
Dean drops his head back on the pillow. “Shit,” he says quietly. He rolls over before Sam can tell him, adjusting himself accordingly.
“Are you hiding?” Sam asks incredulously.
“No ” Dean says. “You told me if I came, we were going to start over.” He buries his face further into the pillow. “And I came.”
“So I did,” Sam murmurs, running a finger down Dean’s spine.
So he starts again.
Dean comes once more before he makes it through the whole exercise without coming. He’s hard as nails by the end, and panting for it. His hands are buried in the blankets, curled so tightly he’s pulled up the sheets from the edge of the bed. Sam sits back, looking Dean over. “You did well,” Sam tells him, with another baby brother smile.
Dean lets out the breath he’d been holding. “Can I–?” he starts to ask but cuts himself off.
“Can you what, Dean?” Sam asks, smile widening.
He struggles with himself for a second before saying, “come. Can I come, please, Sam?”
Sam looks at him for a long minute. “Yes, Dean,” he says eventually. “You can come.” He reaches over and grasps Dean’s sore cock but Dean whimpers and flinches. “Too sensitive?” Sam asks, with a small smile. “We’ll try something else.” Then Sam leans over and licks a stripe from Dean’s balls to the head of his twitching erection.
It takes a full minute of little kitten like licks around the head of his hard on before Dean gasps out a warning and comes against Sam’s lips. He’s still wrecked, ten minutes later when Sam gets back in the bed after cleaning them off and removing the soiled linens. When Sam slides under the covers, Dean almost immediately curls into him.
They sleep that way, tangled like puppies.
Dean feels like everything’s changed.
*
They’re solving a case in the middle of nowhere Illinois, when Dean realizes everything has changed. Things are easier; he and Sam have always moved around each other with a grace borne of time, but everything clicks even more smoothly. Sam is at his laptop with Dean leaning over him, pointing out something on the screen when he figures it out. Sam must realize something’s wrong because he half turns in his seat and says, “what? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says sharply. “I’m fine.” Sam quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t respond. Dean is close to his face, too close. It comes on as suddenly as his revelation does. He and Sam have done everything they can do between the sheets except for two things: Sam hasn’t fucked Dean. They haven’t kissed.
Looking down into Sam’s slightly confused gaze, Dean realizes another two things: if this was anyone else (like Cassie) he’d have started kissing them already, and, what if Sam didn’t want Dean to kiss him? “You sure?” Sam asks after another moment of tense silence where neither of them moves.
“Yeah,” Dean says softly, and to himself, fuck it. He drops a casual kiss on Sam’s lips and wanders over to the bed to clean the guns. He dares a glance at Sam, Sam who looks completely befuddled and adorable with it.
He’s just started to take apart his favorite gun when Sam walks across the room and gently threads his fingers through Dean’s un-styled hair. “What was that, Dean?”
“What was what?” Dean responds, trying too hard to keep his tone light.
“Uh, dude, you kissed me.”
Dean quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah,” he replies in the same tone. “What about it?”
The expression that crosses his brother’s face is a cross between exasperation and frustration and Dean loves putting it there. “I didn’t... I didn’t think you wanted to,” Sam says eventually.
Pressing his lips together, Dean starts methodically taking apart the gun to oil and clean it. “Well,” he says, as soon as his hands are busy, “why not?” It’s rhetorically though and he answers himself before Sam can do much more than breathe in to respond. “We’re together, aren’t we?”
Sam brushes his fingers through Dean’s hair, once, twice. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I guess we are.”
The next day, laying on the table on Dean’s side of the bed is a thick leather bracelet with shining buckles in three places. It fits four small throwing daggers, but it clearly isn’t the point.
It says ‘mine’.
Sam’s in the shower when Dean puts it on, he probably planned it that way. Hand shaking, Dean lifts it from the wooden bedside table and latches it on to his left wrist. It fits comfortably, not so tight to kill the circulation, not so loose as to fall off around his hand. He stares at it until he hears the water turn off. When he hears Sam moving around in the bathroom, Dean gets out of bed, tugging on a t-shirt and sitting at the laptop to review the case notes. He leaves his boxers on, but doesn’t bother with the jeans.
He very carefully doesn’t look at Sam when his brother comes out of the bathroom, but he knows that Sam looks at the bedside table first before coming over to see what Dean’s looking at. “What’ve we got?” he asks, leaning over Dean’s shoulder, his fingers warm on Dean’s upper arm.
“It’s definitely a salt and burn,” Dean says, using his free hand to point to the screen. “I didn’t see it last night but there’s definitely a pattern.” He clicks to another page on the website. “All female, all within the ages of 18 and 25. That’s why it let that last girl live, it was her birthday, she’d just turned 26. She didn’t fit the pattern.”
“Any idea who the ghost is?” Sam asks, running distracting hands over Dean’s back and shoulders.
“No, not yet.”
They work the case for the next two days.
*
On their way out of town, Dean stops at a coffee shop that has the mocha frappe chino things that Sam likes. “You want anything, babe?” Dean asks his brother absently as he’s getting out of the car.
“Um.” Sam sounds a little surprised. “Nah, I’m good.”
When Dean gets out of the car, Sam opens his laptop to look at perspective cases. There’s a possible haunting in Witchita Falls, Texas. And something that looks like it could be a shapeshifter in Denver, Colorado. Sam turns in the seat to grab his notebook and nearly has a heart attack when he almost reaches into Castiel’s lap. “Hello, Sam,” he says in a pleasant monotone.
Sam twitches, nearly losing the notebook on his knees. “What the hell, Cas,” Sam says when he can breathe again. “Wear a bell or something.”
Cas blinks, tilting his head to one side. “You want me to put a bell on? I thought you’d rather collar Dean, Sam.”
“Oh jesus,” Sam says, covering his face with one hand. “What do you want, Cas?” he asks, muffled.
“I am merely here to ascertain whether or not your mental health is failing,” he says, leaning forward to touch Sam between the eyes. “You seem to be doing quite well, all things considered.”
Sam closes his eyes, feeling... something... flow through Castiel’s fingers into him. “Yeah,” he adds finally, “I’m okay.”
Castiel pulled his hand away. “You are making him happy?”
“Um,” Sam says, “I think so.”
“Ask him,” Castiel suggests. “And... be safe.”
When Sam opens his eyes and looks into the back seat, Castiel is gone. He turns back to the research on his lap, staring at it without seeing it. When Dean gets back in the car, a carmel macchiato in one hand and a small baggie in the other. “Hey, I got you a pumpkin scone,” Dean says, dumping it in his lap.
Sam reaches over without speaking and unclasps Dean’s bracelet. Dean freezes as soon as it’s off. “Are you happy, Dean?” Sam asks. “Is this really what you want?”
Dean is silent. He can’t come up with anything to say. The longer the silence goes on, the farther Sam’s face falls. Slowly, he takes his hand away from Dean’s wrist, taking the bracelet with him. “Oh,” he says quietly, “oh jesus Dean, I’m sorry.” He puts down the research, the scone, the drink and opens the door. He’s closing it behind him before Dean’s brain catches up with him.
“Son of a... Sam, hang on, Sam!” But when he gets out of the car, his brother is gone.
The bracelet is sitting on the bed when he finally gets back to the motel.
Sam’s things are gone.
*
Part Two
Once upon a time
I ripped the wings from my spine
But when I hide inside your eyes
I still pretend that I can fly
“Special Pets”, Otep
*
Dean is in a daze for quite a few hours after he realizes Sam has left him. Again. He calls his brother’s cell phone almost constantly, leaving message after angry message when it goes straight to voicemail.
Two days of that and the messages get pleading, and the last time he calls the automated voice tells him that the number you have reached is out of service. Then he calls Bobby.
Bobby answers just as angry as Dean had been three days before. “I don’t know what you did, y’idjit, but I have a message from Sam.” Dean shuts up immediately, waiting, barely breathing. “He says, give me time and stop calling.”
Grief catches Dean so hard in the chest he actually gets a little light headed and has to sit down on the bed behind him. “Can you give him a message back, if he calls again?” he asks, voice a whisper. Bobby doesn’t answer and Dean takes his silence as a yes. “Tell him he didn’t give me enough time to answer him, because his question took me off guard. I didn’t think he’d have to ask me.”
Bobby’s breath rushes out in a heavy sigh. “Yeah okay, I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean hangs up the phone, pressing it to his lips. He’s not sure how much time has past by the time he puts the phone down, but he knows he should eat before he figures out what to do next.
He gets something from Burger King and goes to the nearest Best Buy to get his own laptop, because Sam took his when he left. It’s time to do some serious research. He might not have known what he was getting into when he started this... relationship... with Sam, but he craves it now.
Touch, and being touched is something he’d taken for granted until Sam. When he thinks about Sam, he gets achingly hard, and maybe it’s a Pavlovian response, but he figures if he’s genuinely attracted to Sam... it doesn’t matter.
He jerks off every day, but stops just before orgasm every time. Four days into the treatment and he needs to use the cock ring. Two weeks pass before he emails Sam’s old email address with one sentence. Dude, I can’t even sit down my balls hurt so much. He hopes Sam knows what he’s talking about.
He didn’t know blue balls were literal.
When the email doesn’t bounce, he feels hope spearing through the knot of worry in his stomach and finds himself rubbing his cock through his pants every hour or so, thinking about Sam. He checks his email to look through all the things he’s signed up for to teach him about the sort of relationship he and Sam have.
Porn website emails, a few forums about it. He has a lot of emails from one place, people giving him tips and other websites to check out.
One person emailed him personally. He’d written a post, and without using any names, talked about the situation he was in. He said his best friend had come back from Iraq... different. That they’d started the relationship to help him, but now things were going wrong. The email in response only said one thing, “do you love him?”
That... snapped everything into perspective.
And he was kind of an idiot.
*
Dean woke up with a start, hand going for the gun under his pillow as soon as he registered that someone was in the room with him. He spun in the bed but the gun was knocked from his hands easily and his intruder pressed him into the bed without much effort. The only person who could do that was Sam.
Instantly relaxing, Dean couldn’t help but hump his hips up into Sam’s, he was so hard it hurt because he’d taken to wearing the cock ring at night, trying to stem off morning erections or coming while asleep.
Sam chuckles against his hair. “How’d you know it was me?” he asks.
“You’re the only person who could come in here without me waking up first,” Dean answers. “And you’re probably the only person I can’t beat in a fight.”
He can feel Sam’s smile against the top of his head. “You’re willingly admitting that you can’t beat me?”
“Why bother lying when it’s true?” Dean asks, squirming a little to put his arm over Sam’s shoulders in a strange half hug. It’s the arm with the bracelet on it. He knows Sam can feel it against his shoulder blade by the way Sam tenses.
“We need to talk, Dean,” Sam warns, and Dean groans in frustration. “No, we do. Castiel gave me something to think about.”
Dean scowls but lets go, pushing up to sit straight. His cock is hard and obvious in his shorts, but Sam doesn’t even look. “Okay,” Dean says with a sigh. “Talk about what?”
“Why didn’t you answer me, when I asked if you were happy?” Sam asks, instantly and Dean wonders a little if he’s been waiting to ask since he opened the door.
“Because,” Dean response, just as quickly, “you took me by surprise then jumped to conclusions.” Sam quirks an eyebrow. “Dude, really? If I wasn’t... happy, then I wouldn’t be here.” Sam seems to digest that, frowning. “Look, Sammy. You’re my brother,” Dean adds. “You’re my brother and I love you.”
Sam’s eyes flash to his, and he must see something in Dean’s gaze because he says, “get up and strip.”
Just like that, they’re back to it and Dean feels like cheering as he yanks off his shorts. “Jesus, Dean,” Sam says, sounding awed, trailing a single finger up the underside of his cock. “You really haven’t come in two weeks?”
“Yeah,” Dean says, trying not to hitch his hips up into Sam’s hand.
In one smooth move Sam removes the cock ring and swallows Dean’s cock down to the root. By sheer force of will alone Dean doesn’t come right away. He whines and fists the sheets and Sam sucks hard enough that his eyes roll up in the back of his head.
He comes embarrassingly quickly and lays on the bed, panting, wrecked. Sam smiles, leaning over to kiss him gently. “Sorry,” he offers Dean quietly. “I shouldn’t have taken off like that.”
“Damn straight you shouldn’t have, Sammy,” Dean responds, but smiles a little to take the sting out of his words. “Gave me too much time to do research.”
Sam’s eyes heat and he closes his hand around Dean’s re-interested cock to pump it a few times. “Roll over,” he orders, and without hesitation Dean does.
He takes his time positioning Dean the way he wants, legs spread, pillow under his hips. “I want to fuck you,” Sam says, mouth against the small of Dean’s back. “May I?”
Dean’s entire body tightens, with fear and arousal, and he’s silent for a long moment. He knew that it was coming, they’d done everything else. “Yes,” he answers. “Yes, Sam.” There really is no other option.
When he started down this path, he expected to save his brother. He never imagined he was saving himself too.
He spread his legs, burying his head in the pillows. He only tenses a little when Sam’s fingers spread his cheeks, but relaxes almost completely when Sam leans down and licks. He forgot how much he loved this.
They need to do this more.
A lot more.
Dean muffles his cries by biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. “No,” Sam says, pulling away. “I want to hear you.”
Faced with such a direct order Dean has no choice but to obey. He unclenches his jaw and lets himself make noise. With women, he’d always been quiet, perfunctory grunts and the occasional sigh or moan. But with Sam, he can barely help it.
Sighs, moans, pleading, begging, every thought that enters his minds comes out of his mouth as Sam’s talented fingers and tongue send all his nerves quivering. “I’m ready,” he says when he can’t stand it any more, “I’m ready, please Sam, Jesus, I’m fucking ready!”
Sam laughs against his skin and pulls away. “Okay, Dean.” He shifts around a little and Dean starts when cool slick slides between his cheeks. Then his brother’s cock is pressed there instead. “You sure?”
“Get on with it!” Dean barks, straining up into Sam’s hands. Sam rubs his dick slowly against Dean’s hole before slowly entering him. It takes a minute, because Sam goes excruciatingly slow. When he’s fully seated, burning hot and feeling full, Dean sighs and relaxes.
Sam shudders, fingers digging into Dean’s hips. “I’m going to move you, Dean,” Sam says quietly, voice hoarse. Dean nods, because he can’t do anything else. Sam pulls him up, back to front flush against each other. Dean scrambles to find a hold, anything to ground him from the sensations storming him.
The wall is too far, so are the blankets and pillows. Sam’s arms reach around him, hips beginning to move and Dean grabs the back of his brother’s neck, pulling their faces close. It doesn’t take him long to come a second time, splattering the wall, the pillows and himself. Sam shivers against him, biting down on his ear. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he murmurs as he comes and Dean seizes a little.
They clean up quickly, curling up together in the middle of the bed. Dean doesn’t realize he’s not wearing the bracelet until much later when he sees it in his duffle. Sam’s in the shower again, and Dean slips it back on.
He’s half asleep when Sam climbs back into bed with him, pulling him close. And okay, Dean still hates being the little spoon. “Love you,” Sam whispers in his ear.
Dean smiles.
*
Dean’s in the shower the next morning when Sam climbs in after him. He smiles to himself, turning his face into the water as Sam presses himself against Dean’s back. “Morning, brother,” Sam rumbles into the space behind Dean’s ear.
“Morning,” Dean responds, pressing back against Sam’s chest. “Thought you’d sleep for longer.”
Sam shrugs one shoulder, tugging Dean closer to him. “Sometimes it’s hard to sleep,” he says; voice almost lost to the falling water around them. Dean understands that. After Hell, his own time there at least, he barely slept. Sometimes still doesn’t sleep - and he knows he drinks too much but it helps.
He turned in Sam’s half embrace to kiss him hello, water sluicing around them. “Let’s have a break,” Dean requests. “Sleep in. Order food.”
“Have sex?” Sam finishes, pulling Dean’s hips into his own. Dean grins as if to say ‘duh’ and kisses Sam thoroughly. He arches his pelvis against Sam’s and rubs their interested cocks together.
This time seems different to Dean. Sam isn’t ordering him, he’s just responding. Dean’s fine with that, the bracelet is on the bathroom counter. He keeps kissing Sam, gliding one hand down between their bodies to grip his brother’s hard cock. Sam gasps into his mouth, jerking his hips in time with Dean’s jerking. Dean had momentary visions of Sam flipping them around and fucking Dean against the wall.
Sam comes with a grunt before dropping to his knees to press hot, open mouthed kisses on Dean’s hips and thighs. Dean’s so hard it hurts - he’ll never get used to it - and he knows he’s not going to last too much longer. Then Sam sucks him down and Dean cries out, smacking his head against the shower stall wall.
“Sam,” he gasps, “Sam, can I... please, can I...?”
Sam’s eyes heat, and he nods once. That’s all there is to it, and Dean comes.
*
“There’s something I want to talk about,” Sam says, as they eat pizza in bed. “You can say no, you can always say no, but I think you’ll like it.” Dean finishes swallowing his piece of pepperoni pizza.
“Okay,” he agrees. “What is it?”
“We’ve done and discussed orgasm control, and denial. Now... I want to take that one step further.” Dean quirks an eyebrow, trying not to blush. “Ever try to orgasm on demand?”
Dean stared down at the bed spread. “Uh... no. No, I haven’t.”
Sam smiles, dimples deep, and leans over to brush the bracelet on Dean’s wrist. “We’d need a word,” he continues. “We’d train you to come on a word. Any word. The idea being that you can’t come until I’ve said this word.”
“I can say no at any time you said?” Dean asks quietly, putting down his pizza. Sam nods. “Then... okay. We can try it.”
Later on, he wishes he’d said no to start with because it’s hard. Physically and mentally. Mostly physically.
The first times he comes to the word he picked out, it felt like everything had come out of him. He couldn’t get it up again for two days after but Sam was so delighted he couldn’t bring himself to mind.
The next six times he comes to the word. So Sam says, after two weeks of treatment, “okay, I think we’re ready.”
Dean quirks an eyebrow. “Ready for what?”
“Ready to test whether or not I’m in control. We’re going to go out and I want you to pick up a girl. Convince her to go to the bathroom with you. Fuck her. Don’t come. When you come back... well... we’ll see, won’t we?”
Dean’s dick twitches in his jeans. “Okay.”
“That’s all you got?” Sam teases and Dean kisses him to shut him up.
*
Dean scopes out the bar the same way he always does. Pool tables in the corner but no one’s betting money and he’s not there for it anyway. There are a few girls around, but no one interesting. He orders a drink to wait.
To be honest, he’s not sure he wants to do it. He’s been with Sam long enough now that his desire for sex has been sated... which was the only reason he picked up chicks in the first place. Without Sam there, the whole thing feels wrong, like he’s walking into an ambush waiting to happen.
It’s ridiculous, but Dean still feels... wrong. He orders another drink, hoping the alcohol will give him courage where he’s failing. It doesn’t take long for the bar to fill up and he catches the attention of a pretty brunette with big blue eyes. She’s petite, short and tiny around the waist, just the way he likes them.
Or, used to like them.
He buys her a drink, chats with her briefly. It’s going according to plan until... “why don’t we take this back to your hotel, hm?” she asks, and she’s shy, looking down, high cheek bones stained with pink blush.
“I can’t,” Dean says honestly. “My sister is there sleeping.” He winks broadly at her, alcohol swimming through him with a thick sort of lassitude. “Why don’t we take this to the bathroom instead?”
His dick is full and hard in his jeans, less because of her and more because he knows what he’ll get back at the motel. But she’s ready for it, her nipples tight peaks beneath her tank top. He can see them through the thin fabric, so he leans forward to kiss her ear, brushing the closest one with his thumb on the way down.
She squeaks and flushes brighter before nodding enthusiastically. It’s a one stall bathroom, with a door that locks and Dean flicks it deftly with one hand, even as he’s kissing her. He gets her tank top up over her head, dropping his lips to the nipple he kept touching at the bar. She’s sensitive, writhing against him, as he sucks and nibbles at her. “Oh fuck,” she says, like it’s a surprise. “Fuck, let me.”
He lets go and she drops to her knees to undo his belt, and pull him out of his pants. She sucks him down with one swallow and she’s as good as Sam is. “Fuck!” Dean says loudly, hips jerking involuntarily into her face. She doesn’t seem to mind though, and if this were anything other than an experiment, Dean would have thought she was perfect. She sucks hard enough that her cheeks hollow and he thinks his brain is going to melt. He’s dancing on the edge of coming and he tugs her up, pulling out his wallet for a condom.
Dean turns her around, pulling off her panties and tossing them to one side, feeling up under her short skirt. She’s soaked, more than ready and he wonders if he should try and return the favor before fucking her but she spreads her legs and groans, “oh god yes, please.”
He slides the condom on and she reaches back to guide him in. It’s been long enough since he’s been with a woman that it takes him a second to re-calibrate. She jerks back against him, mouth open in the mirror and says, “it’s okay. You can move.”
He fucks her hard enough that he leaves bruises on her hips in the shape of his finger tips. He can feel orgasm rushing up towards the surface, and he drops one hand down to rub at her clit. She comes almost as soon as he does and he feels the rush of his own climax before... he dangles there, wanting to come and he can’t. He makes a show of it, pulling out as soon as he does, tying off the condom and tucking himself away.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawls, giving her a kiss.
She kisses back enthusiastically but doesn’t give him her number. “See you around,” she says brightly, and slips back out towards the bar area. He pulls out his cell phone and opens a text to Sam.
On my way back, he texts and is in the Impala before he receives the response.
I’ll be here.
He speeds a little on the way back, cock hard and he palms himself a few times because he’s a sucker for punishment.
When he arrives, he can see the manager looking at him through the windows of the office and he has to strive to look normal on his way to the door.
Dean fumbles with the key to the door, his cock is so hard it’s pounding in time with his heart beat. He finally gets his hand around the handle, throwing open the door. “Sam,” he says, trying not to sound too desperate. He doesn’t immediately see Sam inside the door, and he closes it behind him. Sam pulls him close from the side, pressing a kiss to Dean’s ear. “Sam!”
“Have a good time tonight... Brother?”
Dean comes in his jeans like a teenager.
Well. At least he knows it works.
*
Castiel appears in the middle of their motel room as Dean gets out of the shower. “Hello Sam,” Cas greets, before turning and giving Dean the full extent of his stare. “Hello Dean.”
“Uh. Hi, Cas.” Dean feels a little angry with him for whatever it was he said to Sam that made Sam take off a few weeks before, he can’t really help it. He pulls on his clothes, trying to ignore Cas’ look. “What do you want?” he says when he’s dressed.
“I merely wished to ascertain whether or not you and your brother were well,” Cas says. Sam snorts and Dean is spared the rest of Castiel’s gaze when it turns on him. “You doubt me?”
“It’s how you said it, not what you said,” Sam answers with a small laugh. “And, we’re fine. For the most part.”
“Your relationship... it goes well?” Castiel has a strange look on his face, like he’s uncomfortable and doesn’t know why.
Dean and Sam exchange a look. “Yeah,” Dean responds for the both of them. “It’s fine.” He frowns a little before sitting on the bed. “Are you okay?”
“I... Yes. I’m fine.” Castiel looks even more uncomfortable now. “Thank you.” Dean opens his mouth to say more but between one breath and the next, he’s gone.
“Did you get the feeling there was more going on?” Sam asks meditatively.
“Yeah. You think?”
Sam shrugs one shoulder and presses a kiss to Dean’s temple as he walks by. “I’m going to shower.”
“I’ll go get breakfast.” Dean brings coffee and donuts back to the room, finding Sam staring at his laptop. He drops off Sam’s half of breakfast before booting up his own computer. One of his ‘friends’ from the many websites he signed up to emailed him sometime during the night and he clicks on the links sent to him without thinking about it.
They were all pictures of men about Dean’s size tied and with various sex toys on, in or around their person. The men all had nearly identical expressions of bliss, and Dean’s cock went from soft to interested in five seconds flat.
He closed out quickly, switching back to his email and opening one to Sam.
You should come over here and fuck me. He writes, then adds please in a separate paragraph before hitting send. About a minute later, Sam’s computer chimes and he can see the muscle in Sam’s arm twitching as he checks his email.
After the sex, Dean can ask him about the stuff in the pictures.
Sam tackles him to the bed, wedging his knee between Dean’s thighs. Dean tugs up his brother’s face and brings him in for a kiss. He kisses Sam for a long time, teasing Sam’s lips open with his tongue and tasting his teeth. What had started as urgent, gentled into slow. Long leisurely kisses that Dean hasn’t enjoyed since high school.
He’s hard, so is Sam, but it fades into the back ground, as they kiss and roll their hips together. He buries his fingers in Sam’s long hair, twining his fingers around the brown strands.
The other times they did this, however many of them, it hadn’t felt like this. This feels more like Sam and Dean... and not the dominant and submissive. Dean sucks on Sam’s lower lip, pressing little kisses at each corner, exploring his brother thoroughly. Sam groans into his mouth and Dean smiles through the next few kisses.
He’s definitely feeling the urgency now, sex is so much more potent; that he doesn’t have the option to masturbate anymore. He rolls his hips a little harder against Sam’s and Sam pulls away to gasp. “You fight dirty, brother,” Sam whispers against his ear and Dean’s eyes widen just before he comes.
When he can breathe again, Dean says, “who fights dirty now?” to his smirking brother. “Asshat.” He pulls back and palms Sam’s dick in one hand.
Grinning Sam shakes his head, rolling his hips up into Dean. “Sorry Dean,” he says, a growl behind his voice. “I just like the surprised look on your face as you come.” He pulls Dean in for another kiss. “You should see it... brother.”
Though Dean doesn’t come, his whole body seizes in remembered pleasure. “Jesus Sam, shut the fuck up.”
Sam only grins wider, bucking up into Dean’s body. “Sorry brother. Brother, brother, brother...oh.” He cuts off when Dean slithers down his body and sucks on the head of Sam’s cock... through his jeans.
Together they fumble with Sam’s belt and the button on his jeans. When it finally gives way, Dean sets about making Sam incoherent and unable to speak. His whole body is sensitized, even feeling his jeans on makes him twitch up and way from the pressure.
Sam, his brother, Sam made him feel like this. It’s unbelievable but it’s true. And now it’s Sam’s turn.
He’s not very good at giving head yet, he’s only done it a few times now, but he’ll learn.
Sam comes without much warning, and he cries out Dean’s name as he does.
It’s something Dean never expected to hear.
Now he craves it.
*
Four days later, Castiel finds them again. They’ve relocated; another town, another job. Sam is sitting on the bed, Dean sitting on the floor, both on their laptops. Dean suddenly looks up and there he is, just sitting in a chair at the table. He startles so bad, he almost loses the laptop.
“Wear a bell or something, would you?” he demands of Castiel and is slightly surprised when Castiel smiles at that. “What?”
“Your brother said the same thing, a few weeks ago.”
Dean glances up at his brother who grins back at him. “I did because you tend to appear without warning.” His tone is admonishing but he smiles at Castiel to take some of the sting away. “What’s up, Cas?”
“May I ask you something?”
It’s on the tip of Dean’s tongue to say ‘you just did!’ but the apprehensive and slightly unhappy look on Castiel’s face stops him. “Sure,” he answers instead.
“Why?”
Again, Dean has a lot of answers to that question and none of them are helpful, or very nice. ‘To make you ask why’ and ‘because’ being the two top contenders. It’s Sam who seems to understand though, and he says, “it helps me forget Hell.”
Castiel blinks and actually looks surprised, and Dean has half a second to wonder if Castiel is learning to be human after all before he speaks again. “Having sex with your brother helps you forget Hell?” And the illusion shatters.
“Ah,” Sam says, and Dean looks over at him to see him blushing, “it’s not the... well, not the brother part. But the sex part.”
Dean still shivers whenever Sam says brother. “Why?” Castiel asks again, tilting his head to one side.
“When I was in Hell...” Sam says slowly, “when I was in Hell, I was tortured. Not like Dean, I don’t think, because the only people in my circle of Hell were Lucifer, Michael and Adam. Adam and I were the toys, distractions for whenever Michael or Lucifer got tired of beating each other up. It was worse for Adam, I think, because Lucifer was taking things out on him more than out on me. But Michael...” Sam turns haunted eyes on Castiel. “Michael beat the crap out me while Lucifer held me down.”
“Sam,” Castiel says and it’s heart breaking to hear.
“But Lucifer was by far worse... when Michael got bored and ignored me, Lucifer would... well. He took what he wanted by force. When I can feel hell burning under my skin, I’d go out and use what little control I could scrape together so... well, freaking out during sex is generally considered unsexy, right?”
Sam smiles a little but it’s empty. “So is that why...?” Dean starts to ask but thinks better of it at the last second.
“Yeah that’s why I became a dominant,” Sam answers him anyway. “It kept Hell at bay.”
Dean twists around and climbs up on the bed at the wording. “Wait, kept? As in, doesn’t anymore?”
Sam grimaces. “Haven’t had a dream of Hell since we started sleeping together, Dean.”
Dean should be placated but he isn’t. “So what, sex with me is magical?”
“That’s not what I meant!” Sam says, hitting Dean in the shoulder. “I meant that, keeping myself in control like this all the time, helps. It lets me forget the time when I was powerless.” He pulls Dean a little closer, not quite a hug but just connecting.
Castiel furrows his brow in a deep frown. “Sam, I have something to tell you. It’s curious because I don’t want to.”
Sam looks quizzical and Dean thinks he knows where this is going. “What is it, Cas? You’re my friend, you can tell me anything.”
“I’m the one who raised you from Perdition,” Cas says, all in a rush.
With a small smile, Sam looks down at his lap. “No offense, Cas. But I already knew that.” The surprised look flits over Castiel’s face again. “It made the most sense.”
“You’re not angry with me?” The angel’s voice is small, and he seems to have shrunk down into his ever present trench coat. “You should be. I waited too long, just like with Dean.”
Sam shrugs one shoulder. “It all worked out in the end.”
“And it... this is good?” Castiel asks, gesturing between them.
Dean can feel it the minute the atmosphere changes, the way Sam’s leg gets tense behind him where it touches his hip. “Sam?” he asks, and Sam doesn’t answer. He just leans forward and flicks off the bracelet with one hand. Dean goes immediately pliant, even as he wonders if Castiel will leave now.
“Sam?” Castiel asks, sounding worried.
“You want proof we’re okay, Cas?” Sam asks, his voice a purr. “Then you can watch. For a while.” He pulls Dean up for a quick kiss. “Strip.”
For the first time in a while, Dean hesitates. Cas is right there, and this is something they hadn’t done before. He turns and looks but Cas is gone, probably vanished as soon as the tension in the room rose. Dean practically throws off his clothes. He’ll pay for the hesitation but that’s all right.
“Face down,” Sam says, and Dean lays down, burying his head in his arms. He can feel his brother’s fingers on his ass, and he suddenly knows what’s coming, when Sam spreads his cheeks and licks.
Dean writhes, and clenches his fists and tries not to sob. He’ll never admit it, but it’s his favorite part of gay sex. He won’t come from it, but it feels so fucking good.
Sam slides a finger in, crooking it against his prostate. Dean jerks and groans and digs his teeth into his wrist and tries to hold it together. But Sam keeps rubbing his prostate, and oh shit, they haven’t done this since that first time.
Prostate milking, Sam called it then. The pressure in him is building unrelentlessly, he shifts constantly, trying to get more, trying to get away. He’s not sure he can come without the word, not sure he can hold it off even if Sam doesn’t use it.
Orgasm is already starting, at the base of his spine, at the back of his throat. He’s taken past the point of it, his body is twitching, sensitive, and he can’t hold back his words anymore. “Fuck, Sam, please, Jesus, please!”
“Hmm, not yet, I think,” Sam purrs, licking around his rubbing finger.
Rub. Twist. Stroke. Dean’s ready to short out, body twitching and flailing, he can’t control it anymore. It’s all Sam’s. All of it.
“Please!” he wails, bucking up, bucking down, his cock feels like it’s going to come off at the root, he’s so full and so heavy. He’s not going to – he’s not going to make it. “Sam!”
Stroke. Twist. Rub. “Yeah,” Sam answers, as Dean feels pleasure loom and darkness around the edges. “Come for me, brother.”
He does.
*
Castiel stands silent and invisible in the room, watching Sam clean the mostly unconscious Dean with a warm cloth. It might have been a mistake, pulling Sam from Perdition, considering who he was taking Sam from and the condition Sam may have been in.
In another world, things might have been different.
But in this one, his one, he can see he made the right decision.
After watching, he knows it to be so.
The End