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Their footsteps squelched along the wet, dimly lit road. Dean could feel the cold soaking into his skin like the water soaked into the bottom of his jeans. His breathing was slightly laboured, and he knew Sam worried with silent glances.
The charred flesh on his shoulder burned with agony, his muscles long cramped from the stiff way he carried his arm. The skin on the side of his face felt tight, and sticky in a way that made it difficult to move his features.
But his latest war wounds didn’t matter. Every time Dean looked at himself and saw that burn scar he would remember today.
The day he nearly lost Sam.
The day where he took the pain so that Sam would live. Sam’s life in a scar. Dean would wear it proudly.
Dean knew it was over. The fear, the desperation, the worry. Today, anyway. But he couldn’t wind down just yet. Couldn’t stop searching the dense vegetation around them, wondering if danger lurked just beyond. He finally had Sam back at his side, where he belonged, but Dean remembered too well the feeling from only 24 hours ago. The what-ifs that he had refused to listen to back then crowded his mind, now that he was no longer solely focused on finding Sam. He drowned in their loud voices, his strong body trembling so easily with their harsh cruelty.
It could have been amusing how Dean had been the one to come out of this with the most injuries. Finding Sam in that goddamned cage and rushing over, Dean’s mind had filled with all the possible hurts Sam might have had under his clothes.
The relief that spread through him as he saw that bright-as-fucking-sunshine Sammy smile and being told his brother wasn’t hurt, was overwhelming. His knees had sagged ever so slightly and he couldn’t help the genuine grin from escaping, bursting from depths that had felt so cold. That smile had said everything he couldn’t put into words, every feeling he couldn’t express.
“Damn, it’s good to see you,” he had said. And wasn’t that just the understatement of the day. He had wanted to reach through those bars and pull Sam to him, touching the skin on his face and feeling the warmth, the health of it beneath his fingertips. He had wanted to take hold of that soft, floppy brown hair and let it tangle between his fingers and drag Sam closer until he could crush their lips together and pour all his desperation into a frantic kiss.
Dean hadn’t realised Kathleen was in the cage next to Sam until she had spoken and he’d been split seconds away from giving in to his desires. All that had mattered at the time was Sam. The need to reassure himself that he wasn’t too late.
And now, they were on the path back to town, with cops and feds about to bear down on them at any moment.
But Dean had to know, had to be sure.
His abrupt turn surprised Sam, giving Dean the advantage despite having only one useable arm. He shoved at Sam’s chest, pushing until his brother fell back amongst the trees, deeper into the cover of darkness. Dean spun Sam around until they were on the other side of a large tree, hidden from the road and pressed him up against the rough, damp bark with his whole body.
They stood there for a moment, their breath making little mists in front of their faces, their chests puffing out with each inhale. Sam’s eyes were wide with uncertainty, but as they searched Dean’s face they lost the surprise and instead clouded with understanding.
The moment stretched between them, time twanging like tightly pulled wire. The tension dragged them down deeper and deeper, the raw nature, the essence of what connected them together coursing through their bodies. Dean’s chest tightened until he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the only way he could drag air into his lungs was if it came from Sam.
“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean whispered harshly as his right hand reached out desperately to clutch at Sam’s jacket. His head closed the scant distance between them, crashing their lips together.
Stubble rasped loudly in the encompassing silence as their mouths ground frantically against each other. This wasn’t a kiss. This was reassurance. This was breathing each other’s air just because it was their’s to breathe.
As the clamp around Dean’s chest loosened, the fire ignited in his body. Sparks coursed from his lips to become a blazing inferno in the pit of his belly. But Dean was barely aware of his hardening cock, too busy feeling the reality of Sam. From the way his breath pulsed warmly against Dean’s nose, chin and mouth to the way Dean’s good arm searched for any tender spots on Sam’s body, waiting for that split-second give-away wince.
But as time passed, and the wince never came, Dean started to relax against Sam’s large, solid body. Sensation began to sweep him up and carry him away, washing him into the very sprit of Sam until they were no longer two people sharing a kiss, but a kiss sharing two bodies. The frantic nature lessened and became something more pure, deeper. It was less teeth and more connection.
Dean pressed his hips tighter up against Sam’s thighs, as though he was trying to climb into his brother’s skin. Climb under it and never leave. And maybe that way they’d never have to be apart again. Dean would never again have to feel that abject horror of loss.
Sam’s long, long legs shifted, widening his stance to accommodate Dean’s frame between them, but otherwise made no effort to move, letting Dean take complete control. Their “usual playmates” might have rules and patterns, but that didn’t make Dean feel any more in control of his life and the world around him.
It was times like this he understood why their father was so about the orders and the discipline. It made him feel like he was in control of something. Dean didn’t want to control Sam. He just wanted to keep him alive.
Sam’s long fingered hands came up to cup Dean’s skull, ever so gently, neither pushing nor pulling. Simply holding, fueling the connection to greater heights. Dean felt, more than heard through the roaring of white static in his ears, his brother’s whimper.
He released Sam’s lips, almost reluctantly, evident in the way he would start to pull back and then lean in to place one last, one more kiss upon Sam’s swollen lips. His mouth travelled down the strong column of Sam’s throat, feeling the pulse of blood beneath the surface, but inevitably he was drawn back to Sam’s mouth.
Their hips started to grind, ever so slightly, ever so softly at first. Denim rasped and zippers clicked against each other, but beneath the fabric and the constriction was a desperate need for more. Slow and soft became hard and frantic need, and their kiss became more about breathing each other in. Dean’s eyes opened, unsure of when he had shut them, but not wanting to miss another moment of Sam.
Even up close his brother was beautiful. His skin was flushed with arousal, not quite hiding the deepening bruise on his cheek. That mar made Dean angry in a way he knew wasn’t rational. This was a dangerous gig, no question. They were going to get hurt, Sam was going to get hurt, and sometimes there was nothing Dean could do to stop that. But this time it felt more real, more personal. He reached up with his good arm, pulling back from the kiss and his hips slowing until they were simply pressing, to cup Sam’s strong jaw, thumb rubbing lightly across the bruise that he couldn’t quite see in the darkness. But he knew it was there.
Sam’s eyelids fluttered at the sensation, before biting at his lower lip and looking away from the intensity of Dean’s gaze. Dean knew Sam felt uncomfortable with how much Dean wanted to protect his baby brother, to keep him safe. Dean slid his hand to cradle the side of Sam’s head, fingers luxuriating in the cool, silkiness of Sam’s hair. His grip tightened ever so slightly and Sam returned his gaze back to Dean’s.
When Sam looked at him like that, those wide-spaced puppy eyes so deep with emotion, Dean always felt like he was drowning. He wasn’t always sure he could fight his way back to the surface. Or even that he wanted to. Sam was under his skin, filling him, completing him. Sam was everything inside Dean. Everything he wished he could be.
Dean leaned down towards Sam, their eyes still looking no where but into each other’s bared soul, for a gentle kiss. This time it was Dean that whimpered. In a voice so soft Dean wasn’t sure Sam could hear it he whispered against his brother’s mouth, “I wish I didn’t need you like this.”
But when Sam pulled back Dean knew he had been heard. Sam’s eyes searched his for a long moment and when he smiled just a little, Dean knew Sam had read the ‘But I do’ imprinted across his soul.
This time it was Sam who reached for Dean in quiet desperation, his hands fumbling at their jeans while reaching forward to cling once more upon Dean’s mouth. He managed to get their hard cocks out through the slits in their boxers, releasing the heated flesh to the cool night air. Dean groaned into Sam’s mouth, the vibration echoing between them, as Sam wrapped his hands around their erections, rubbing them together, joining them together here as they were joined together everywhere. Dean reached out, pressing his good hand on the tree trunk beside Sam’s head so he could support himself as Sam worked their cocks and Dean controlled the kiss.
Dean didn’t try to contain his whimpers as Sam stroked him in all the right ways, twisting and caressing with just the right amount of pressure, letting the heads of their cocks rub and kiss, creamy pre cum drooling out of the slits and slicking the way for a moment. Then it was just all friction and that razor edge between pleasure and pain that let you know you were alive to still feel.
Dean had been waiting for this release since the night before, when Sam had wanted to go find the motel just down the road from Kugel’s Keg. For a young man with a college background, Sam certainly didn’t know how to let go, definitely not on a job. Dean admired him for that, Sam’s own way of keeping Dean in line, though he’d never tell his brother that.
Sam had wanted an early start and that was when Dean’s eyes flicked down. The bulge in Sam’s pants had been obvious from Dean’s viewpoint, though to anyone shorter the table would have been in the way. Sam had smiled shyly up at his brother, from under bangs and lowered lashes. Dean loved how his brother was still so shy with the change in their relationship. Brothers to lovers.
It made him hot like nothing else, how Sam could be all shy, unsure innocent one moment, but the minute they were getting down and dirty Sam lost all his inhibitions. Dean had gone to the bathroom as hard as rock and peeing had not been easy. He’d been looking forward to getting to that motel as soon as possible. And that’s when the longest day of his life had started, leading to this.
The pressure and build up. The adrenaline that had helped him through the day. The fear, the worry. And now the arousal. They were all coursing through him, sweeping him along in a passionate tide. Dean could feel his balls tingling, the muscles in his thighs tensing. It was too soon, too much, threatening to overwhelm him, but he didn’t care. Not as long as Sam was with him.
Dean released Sam’s blood-filled lips to nibble at his earlobe, Sam’s hotspot, pushing Sam’s hair out of the way with his nose. Sam’s head went back with a groan that almost sounded painful, if Dean hadn’t known better.
Dean felt the tremble in Sam’s body at the new contact, and the hitch in the rhythm of his hands on their cocks, before moving faster, more frantic, almost trying to drag the orgasms out of them. Dean swirled his tongue around the fleshy lobe, before drawing it into his mouth and suckling on it. Sam let out a whimper and Dean let the night air flow over the wet skin, cooling it. Dean’s tongue and lips worked up the outer curve of Sam’s ear, tracing the folds and ridges, before biting down gentle at the upper point. Sam’s hips jerked forward against dean in response.
“Sammy, I’m gonna…” Dean whispered brokenly, his voice ghosting in little vibrations over Sam’s ear. Sam rubbed his thumbs over the sensitive heads of their cocks. “Fuck, dude. Come with me.”
“Dean.” The word seemed to tear from Sam, as his body jerked against Dean’s.
Hot fluid spurted out over Dean’s cock, the shock of the sensation over his heated flesh in the cool air was enough to send him over the brink too, his orgasm ripping through him, starting from groin and spreading throughout his body. He felt his balls contract as Sam’s hands faltered in their rhythm a little. Dean thrust up against his brother, once, twice and he was cumming, groaning his release into Sam’s mouth.
Sam’s hands slowed, but didn’t stop, drawing out the aftershocks of their orgasms. The brothers trembled and shuddered against each other, their mouths open and close to each other, but not kissing, foreheads resting together. Just trying to breathe each other in. Their oxygen.
Eventually the stimulation became too much and Dean groaned, his hips drawing away enough for Sam to get the hint. Dean placed a gentle, tender kiss upon his brother’s swollen mouth before pulling away to look at the mess between them. He wiped at the mess gently with the sleeve of his jacket, the rough cloth causing them to whimper at the friction, no matter how soft. Sam tenderly tucked Dean’s softening cock back into his underwear and then did up his jeans, before doing the same to himself.
With the physical release came the emotional one. As the adrenaline left his body, Dean was reminded of all his aches and pains. Reminded of how he almost lost Sam today.
They had both needed this, this frantic connection that reminded them that they were still here, together. Sam was Dean’s life. Even when he wasn’t in it, he was Dean’s life. He was what made the best parts of Dean. And Dean could never live without the other half of his soul.
“Don’t do that again, Sammy.” The plea was a whisper into the night, begging for an answer he knew could never be guaranteed.