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Dean Winchester was tired. He was in pain. He was sick of the noise, of the smell, of everything. He’d finally had enough.
So when Alastair let him down and removed the hooks from his skin, letting the blood flow free, when he made him the offer he made him every day--to turn into one of the torturers to stop the torture upon himself--Dean was finally ready to say yes. He would have been ashamed but he just couldn’t work up that much emotion, that much energy. He was so tired. He’d do anything now, to stop it.
He opened his mouth to speak but then his breath left him in a whoosh. Standing behind Alastair, shining like the sun itself, was Sam. Beautiful, strong and seemingly full of life, Dean almost couldn’t keep his eyes on him. But he looked, and felt part incredible joy ‘Sam’s come to save me!’ and part incredible sorrow ‘Sam’s in Hell!’.
Alastair sensed the shift of his focus and frowned down at him. “Dean? I asked you a question.” Then he noticed that Dean was looking at something behind him and the demon turned around. He gasped. “You!”
Sam, looking fierce, just smiled. He lifted his hand and the demon flew back out of his way. Sam didn’t bother giving him much attention after that, just strode over to where Dean was on his knees--Alastair always made him kneel for this--and held out his hand.
“Dean, it’s okay. I’ve come to take you home.”
“Sammy?” The name was croaked out of a throat that had been ripped to pieces too many times. “You…you’re real?” They had tried to use Sam against him before.
“I’m real,” Sam reassured him. “C’mon Dean, take my hand.”
Dean decided he didn’t care if this was a dream or a trick. Anything, as long as he got to touch his Sammy one more time. He lifted his own hand and touched Sam’s palm. And the world burst into white.
Dean eventually became aware of a hand stroking his forehead, of soft murmuring words being crooned into his ears. He was somewhere soft and he felt….well, he felt safe, for the first time in a very long time. He didn’t want to open his eyes but he knew he had to.
The first thing he saw was Sam. His Sam, wearing blue flannel and his hair all crazy like always. His Sam, a soft but slightly concerned look on his face. His Sam, looking down at him, the press of his body close.
His Sam. Warm and alive and…real?
“Sammy?”
“Hey Dean. It’s okay, we’re safe. We’re in Peoria, Illinois.”
“Sammy?” Dean croaked again.
“Oh, yeah, here,” Sam rolled over and grabbed a glass of water, handing it to Dean, whose hand was shaking so much he spilled drops everywhere. Dean watched as Sam wrapped his big hand over his own and guided the glass to his lips. “Better?”
“Yeah.” Dean still felt fairly weak but he had to see. He looked down at his body, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. No cuts, no bruises, no blood. He frowned, looked at Sam questioningly.
“You’re fine. I took care of it.”
That seemed to be all that Sam wanted to say on the subject. “Did you make a deal?” Dean had to know.
“No.”
“Then how--?”
“I’ll tell you later, I promise. For now just enjoy being back in the land of the living, all right, Dean?”
And Dean, who could refuse his brother nothing, shut his mouth and let himself be guided back into the softness of the bed. He looked up at Sam, who seemed to be twitching with the need to do something and smiled. “I guess you missed me, huh, Sammy?”
Sam’s expression instantly changed through a myriad of emotions--pain, hurt, sorrow, anger, frustration, and even a hint of bitchface, until it settled on that softness again. “Of course I missed you, Dean. Missed you like crazy. Never stopped trying to get you out. I swear.”
Dean heard the hurt in Sam’s voice and immediately moved, taking his brother in his arms. “No, no, no, no, no” he repeated again and again. “Don’t you blame yourself. I made the deal, knew what I was in for.”
“No one--”
“I’m not sorry. You’re alive, you’re here because of what I did. Not sorry, Sammy.”
They both let the tears flow, wetting each other’s shirts but holding back the sobs that threatened to break free. At last Dean drew away. He reached up a hand to touch Sam’s face, to wipe away the wetness. “Sam? Are you real? Is this real?”
Sam covered Dean’s hand with his own. “This is real, Dean. I’m real. I promise.”
Dean let go, leaning in close. “Oh Sammy, I missed you. I love you, I missed you, I love you.” He kept repeating those two phrases over and over, clutching his brother to him, clinging, never wanting to let go. If this is a dream, Dean thought, I never want to wake up. If this is an illusion I never want it to break.
The tears had started again. Sam was holding him just as close returning the words, “love you Dean, love you so much, missed you so much, missed you, love you, always, always, always.”
Dean couldn’t take it. He broke apart, there in his brother’s embrace, great wracking sobs filling the room, tears streaming down his face, soaking them both. Sam wrapped his arms tight and continued to speak words of love and comfort, promising never to let him go again.
At last the storm subsided and Dean looked up, raising his hand to swipe at his face. “Must look like shit,” he tried to joke, smearing snot on his sleeve.
“You’re beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful to me.”
“Sam…” and Dean leaned forward at the same time Sam did and their lips met in a salty kiss. “Sam,” he spoke again but his brother put a finger over his lips.
“I told you, I love you, Dean. I’m in love with you. You’re my heart and my world. Please say you want this too?”
Dean nodded, feeling joy explode in his chest. “I love you too, Sammy. I’m in love with you and I want to be with you. Even if it sends me back to Hell.”
“Shhh,” Sam rubbed his back. “Don’t speak about it. Not here with me, not right now. Just love, Dean. Just love here and now.” Sam kissed him again. Dean had never felt such love, such warmth, such purity in his whole life. It washed away a lot of his time in Hell though Dean knew it would never get it all.
“I…I want to make love to you, Dean,” Sam admitted through their still pressed together lips.
Dean’s heart leapt. “Yes!” he shouted, startling them both. “Yes,” he repeated once he’d calmed himself a bit. He pulled himself back and stripped off his shirt then moved in again to divest Sam of his own. Sam let the fingers undo the buttons then slide it off his shoulders and onto the floor. He lifted his arms while Dean pulled the shirt up and over his head.
Naked torsos met as they rewrapped themselves into each other’s arms, the force carrying them back down to the mattress. Dean looked up at his little brother and slid one hand through Sam’s beautiful hair. “My Sammy…” he murmured.
“My Dean…” came the reply, just as quiet. They kissed again, legs intertwining, hips touching and sliding, the feel of their hard cocks touching through the denim driving them both slightly crazy.
Sam trailed soft kisses over Dean’s face and cheeks, eyes and brow. He placed a particularly fervent one at the left corner of Dean’s mouth, then moved down to caress his throat. Dean shivered, remembering but then focused on the sensation of Sam. Feeling the shiver, Sam wrapped his arms tighter around Dean, hoping to expel all the bad memories, knowing he never could.
“Dean,” he murmured the name again, kissing his way down Dean’s neck, letting his tongue dart out for a taste at the collarbone. Feeling Dean’s cock pulse harder he grinned against skin and did it again. Then he continued on downward, stopped at the nipple. He gently drew the nub into his mouth then extended his tongue forward.
“Sam!” came the cry, as hands clenched on his back, drawing him closer. But Sam knew he had not hurt Dean. So he continued to love that little aureole, licking and lapping and sucking. He gave it one last lick then moved over to the other, giving it the same attention. He felt Dean’s hips moving against his own but continued with what he was doing. At last he let go and moved back up to take Dean’s mouth.
As he thoroughly kissed his brother’s lips and mouth Sam moved his hand down and covered Dean’s erection with his palm. A strangled yelp and the hardening of said erection made him smile.
He opened the jeans and stroked Dean through the fabric of the underwear beneath. He felt the wetness of Dean’s pre-come and inwardly shouted with joy that he had aroused his brother so much. Slipping a hand inside the material he at last laid his skin against Dean’s.
“Sam!” came the shout. Then the name was repeated over and over, like a chant against evil or a ward against a demon.
“Shhh, Dean,” Sam petted the cock in his hand. He slid down his brother’s body, pulling the jeans down and off, the underwear coming too. Luckily neither of them were wearing shoes or socks. Now Dean lay gloriously nude in the bed. Sam stopped to look. When he saw Dean flushing and moving his arms to cover himself he caught them. “You’re beautiful,” he said again. “I’ll never let you go again.” Then he bent and took Dean’s cock in his mouth.
Instead of bucking, instead of screaming, instead of doing anything Sam had expected Dean went completely and utterly still. Sam immediately let go and looked up at his lover. “Dean?”
Dean opened wet eyes and looked down at him. “If this isn’t real, Sammy, then I don’t want to wake up.”
Understanding, Sam bent his head back down and began giving Dean the blowjob of his life. Alternating between soft licks and deep slurps, he worked the flesh as best he could. His hands moved up to touch and caress Dean’s balls, one hand slipping back to part the skin and touch back there.
Dean lifted his ass and hips. “Sam, please.”
Sliding one finger into his mouth but not letting go of the prize in his mouth, Sam thoroughly wet the digit then put it back. He circled the pucker then carefully, very carefully pressed in.
Desperate to let Sam know that he wanted this, that he loved it, that he wanted more, Dean thrust his fingers into Sam’s brown locks and babbled, “love it, love you, love it, love you, love it, love you,” over and over again.
One hand holding the base of Dean’s cock, Sam could not swipe at eyes that suddenly filled with moisture. Instead he pressed the finger further in and began to work it. As he did he felt the cock in his mouth throb and knew Dean was close. He let his finger slip free and his mouth slide off the skin.
“No,” Dean nearly wailed. “Sam, Sam, please.” Dean had learned some time back, in Hell, that he wasn’t above begging.
“It’s okay, Dean. I’ve got you. I just don’t want you to come without me. Want you to come when I’m inside you.”
Dean felt his breath still and gazed up at his brother. His lover. His whole world. “Yes.” The word was tiny but it was important and it sent a thrill through them both.
Sam flew back up Dean’s body and kissed his mouth, plundering inside, tongue’s dueling. “I love you. I love you,” Sam told him over and over and Dean believed. Reality or Dream, Dean believed.
“I--” Sam had been fumbling with his hand for something. “Shit, hang on. Stay right there.” Tone fierce, he kissed Dean hard then jumped out of bed and ran across to the bag settled in front of it. A zipper was torn open, clothes tossed about and then Sam was back, lube in hand.
Telling himself to calm down, he took a breath and pressed his lips to Dean’s. “How do you want this?”
“Want to see you,” came the instant reply. “Need to see you.”
“It might hurt more--”
“Don’t care. Need to see you, Sammy.”
“Okay.” Sam opened the lube, prepared his finger then slid one down and into Dean. He felt Dean jump and his eyes flew to meet his brother’s, who looked right at him and nodded.
One finger became two, two became three . Dean was writhing on the bed, little gasps and other sexy sounds coming from his parted lips. “Sam. Sam, I need you. Need you now. Please.”
Sam had to squeeze the base of his cock not to come right then and there. He squirted more lube on his cock, already well coated, and moved into position. He pressed the head of himself to the whole and stopped.
Dean sensed his brother looked and opened eyes he hadn’t even known he had closed. Their gaze meeting Sam spoke.
“I love you, Dean. I always have and I always will.”
Dean was too choked up, too turned on to reply verbally so he let his eyes speak for him. It was enough. Sam slid in, the pain passing quickly, sliding home until he was all the way inside. He went still, arms holding himself up. Dean lay there, cataloguing all the sensations, reveling in the feel of safety, of love, of completion that was flooding him. This was home. This was love. This was Sammy.
“Sammy,” the name escaped his lips and Sam smiled. Dean nodded, letting him know he was ready. He wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist and put one hand on Sam’s chest, the other on his back.
The thrusts were slow and agonizing at first. Each drawn out to pure bliss and much too slow. He wanted more and he wanted it to never end. As Sam began to speed up, Dean began to kiss every part of Sam’s body that he could reach with his mouth. The hand on Sam’s chest slid down and wrapped around his own hard cock, only to have Sam’s hand gently move it away.
“No,” Sam said softly, continuing to thrust. “That’s mine.” He placed his hand on the hot flesh and began to move it in time to the thrusts.
Overwhelmed, Dean could do nothing but draw Sam’s mouth down in a hard kiss, and move his own body to the rhyme that Sam had set up. As it sped up he kept match with the speed and tempo until they were both so close it didn’t matter.
“Dean….Dean…”
“Sam…Sammy….”
“Can I? I need to…”
“Yes, Sammy, yes.”
“Love you, Dean. Love you.”
“Love you, Sammy.” With that Sam came, thrust deep into Dean, spilling hot seed inside him. That triggered Dean’s orgasm, spattering all over his brother and himself, coating their skin. It smeared all over as Sam collapsed on top of Dean, breathing hard, their arms wrapping tight around each other.
At last breathing returned to normal and Sam moved off, eliciting a whimper from Dean. Heading into the bathroom and returning with a warm washcloth, he wiped them both gently down, careful not to hurt. He tossed it back into the other room, not caring where it landed. He got back in bed with his brother and pulled him close.
Dean sighed, warm and happy, blessed out from his orgasm. He smelled the smell of Sam, taking it deep. This was real, he thought, knowing the freakout was coming but forestalling it for a while. This was real and this was love and this was Sam. He sighed, which made Sam open his eyes.
“Dean?”
Dean opened his own closed eyes and looked up at Sam. He smiled, then let that smile turn into a smirk. “Now all we need is some pie to make this perfect.”
Sam stared at him, startled, then began to laugh. It had a bit of a hysterical tinge to it but he it was so great to hear that Dean just let him go. Eventually Sam wound down and settled back again him, pulling them both tightly together. “Tomorrow. I promise. I’ll even let you eat pie for breakfast. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds perfect, Sammy. Sounds pretty damn perfect.” And with that, the Winchester brothers--reunited at last--drifted off to sleep.
End