Disclaimer: They are not mine. I wish they were so I could keep them chained to my bed and do all kinds of naughty things to them, but they are not. I’m making no money out of this either. This is for the sheer pleasure of reading about two guys doing what they just called “sick” in the program. No harm done, no money made.
Warning: NC-17, slash, incest (duh).
Summary: after meeting with Chuck and getting knowledge of the slash written about them, Dean can’t really feel comfortable in his own skin, or near Sam.
After meeting Chuck and seeing their lives in paperback, Dean felt haunted. There was someone out there, a prophet nonetheless, who saw everything he did, he thought, heard everything he said... and put it on paper in the best, or worst, Danielle Steel style. It was good to some point to know that no more books were coming out about the things that happened after he died, and it was certainly good that the books published had such a low circulation. What wasn’t that good at all, and it kept him thinking, was that there was people out there, SICK, SICK people, who pictured him having sex with Sam. Like it wasn’t enough that in every other motel, in every other city someone would take them for a gay couple, now there were people that knowing they were brothers, still pictured them „together-together”.
„Dean, dude, what’s wrong?” Sam’s voice came insistent, as if he had been talking to him for a while without answer.
His little brother turned his face to the window and arched his eyebrows annoyed.
„Yeah. Those are the noises and faces you do when nothing is going on.”
He wasn’t going to answer that. It pissed him off a little to see how calm Sam was about all the matter. It pissed him even more because he, the older brother, couldn’t achieve that level of calm even though he knew that whatever a bunch of deviant „fans” wrote was none of his business and it meant nothing. It was just rambling. Sick, disgusting rambling.
They checked in at some rackety motel they found on the road, probably some truck driver stop, from the looks of it. They were used to crappy motels already, so the shadows of rats on the corner and the occasional roach running across the hall didn’t make them flinch. What threw Dean out of his piece of mind was inside the room.
„Dude, where’s the other bed?”
Sam looked around, opened the only door that led to a bathroom so stinky he made a mental note to shower somewhere else.
„I think that’s it. One bed.”
„Fuck,” he muttered turning around and frowning upset. „I’m not sleeping with you.” He declared as he came face to face with his brother again.
Sam looked around. There was the bed, a double, not even a queen, a nightstand, a small table screwed to the wall and under it something like a round, three legged taburet. Roaches ran up and down the walls.
„What do you suggest?”
Dean turned around and went to the front desk.
„No, I said we need a room with two queen beds,” he insisted.
The man at the desk probably was trying to squeeze more money out of them.
„You want two beds, you rent two rooms. This is not a family hotel.”
Dean rubbed his forehead trying to remain calm.
„Okay. Okay,” he forced a smile to his face „how about we request an extra bed.”
„Sure,” the man said „you rent another room.”
Sam had to drag his brother away before he decided to rip his lungs out. Outside, Dean yanked his arm free from his brother’s hold.
„I am NOT going to sleep with you!”
This was getting too much.
„Dude,” Sam stopped him right before their room „what’s wrong with you?”
Dean gaped for a moment trying to find a plausible reason.
„I just... don’t wanna... sleep with you.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed down looking at his older brother. His arms folded before his chest as he inspected him.
„You’ve been reading Chuck’s books, haven’t you?”
Dean eyed his brother.
„I don’t need to read about us, Sammy.”
„Then you’ve been reading what the fans write.”
Green eyes widened like flying saucers.
„Fuck dude! I’d never read that shit! You are the researcher! You are the one who read it!”
Well, Sam did read... one, which is how he learned what Sam/Dean meant, but he wasn’t going to comment on it, specially not to his irrational brother, and specially NOT when in said story his brother was the passive partner.
„Besides,” he continued looking away „I just... don’t feel comfortable, you know, with Chuck suddenly peeking on us and making a novel out of it.”
There was a point there. Sam twisted his lips and arched his eyebrows nodding slightly.
„It does bother me too, but what can we do about it?”
Dean threw the room keys to Sam and headed off to the Impala.
„I’m sleeping in the car.”
Sam shook his head and entered the room.
Taking advantage of his solitude, he turned on his laptop and decided to read a little before turning off for the night. As expected, there was no mobile Internet coverage or Wi-Fi, WiMax or even a dial-up connection, so he read a few documents he had downloaded previously. There were a few articles from an indexed law magazine he had downloaded a while ago but never got around to read, so, since it was impossible for him to look for some gigs, he lowered himself in the bed and delved into the lecture. Peace and quiet, however, didn’t last much, when a furious banging almost ripped the door off its hinges. However, as he opened it, his brother stormed in without looking back, stopping in the middle of the dingy room looking frustrated.
„The motherfucker says I can’t sleep in my own car.”
He lowered his gun, closed the door and sighed. Well, so much for reading.
„You better don’t write down any of this, do you hear me Chuck!” Dean menaced the ceiling with his fist. Sam chuckled at the scene his brother was putting up. He turned off the laptop and took off his shoes getting back in the bed, this time leaving the right side for his brother.
„What are you doing?”
„Sleeping, Dean. What does it look I’m doing?”
It was becoming a little annoying. He punched the pillow and turned his back to his brother facing the empty side of the bed. Dean was tired, and slowly desperation took over him. He tried to accommodate himself on the taburet, but it was uneven and kept rocking under him, add to it it was too narrow. The table couldn’t offer any real rest either, but he was refusing to sleep in the bed with Sam. So it was up to the younger Winchester to order some sense into him.
„For Fuck’s sake, Dean, cut the crap and come to bed.”
„I said I’m not sleeping with you!”
„But you are not letting me sleep, so drag your ass here or I’ll do it!”
Dean made a small sound deep in his throat, much like a child, but it was little after followed by the sound of his steps. The light was turned off and then the mattress shifted underneath Sam. The sound of boots hitting the floor clang in the room ever so loud and then the mattress moved more as a large, warm body laid next to him. The bed was, indeed, too narrow for the comfort of the two of them.
„Stay on your side.”
„Dude, grow up.”
„Sammy, I’ve heard you when you sleep! I’ve seen you!” Dean gesticulated in the dark while he kept his body rigid on the bed, like some sort of corps waiting to be mummified. „You hug your pillows, drool over them! Dry hump them! I don’t want to be taken for a pillow or a demon-bitch substitute.”
„Dean, you are going too far,” Sam warned him.
„I mean, Sammy, when was the last time you’ve got nookie?”
Now that was too much.
„What does it have to do with anything? And what do you care? When was the last time YOU’ve got some?”
However Dean wasn’t letting go his point.
„Look at you! Since you are hunting again you’ve hooked up with werewolves and demons, Sammy, and it’s been a while since we’ve last seen your demon girlfriend.”
„What does that has to do with anything?”
„Well, you read that slash thing, Sammy... and well, fucking your brother does sound to be in the same league as fucking monsters.”
The mattress jumped beneath Dean, who was suddenly covered with the thin, fraying blanket that came with the bed.
„That’s it. I’m renting another room.”
That hadn’t been nice, Dean was aware of that, but... well, he did was concerned. The door shut behind Sam with a loud bang, and the cold silence was filled only with the soft scratching of rats under the floor and roaches on the walls. He hated the place and it made him sick to think that one of those bugs might creep into his hear, so he pulled the cover well over his head and drifted off slowly to sleep.
If only that were possible.
Minutes later Sam was back. The door opened and closed, shoes and duff bag hit the floor, and the mattress shifted underneath him.
Sam was silent for a minute.
„The dude wants two hundred dollars for the room.”
„The motherfucker,” Dean muttered.
„Look,” he said to nail down things with his brother „I’m not interested in getting laid with you or anyone for that matter. As for the Ruby thing, just let it go. It isn’t like it’s all that regular like you seem to picture it.”
„So, you are not getting any nookie?”
Sam turned his back at his brother.
„Good night, Dean.”
That was easier said than done. Dean started a tortuous process of several short strange dreams that woke him up sweating until he drenched his clothes. His mind was flooded with images of his little brother’s naked body from many angles. His little brother fucking all kinds of strangers, twisted in a mingle of limbs, sliding slick at the rhythm of ragged air intakes and sighs. His attention slowly focused on him, his swollen lips, the curve of his ass, his toned arms, his long bangs stuck to his boyish face. At some point he was the mingle of limbs around which his little brother was fastened. It was his body sliding up Sam’s, his little brother’s skin under his touch, the taste of his sweat on his tongue. His eyes, darkened by the heat, turned at him hazed, burning like embers. His shiny, swollen mouth moved and his name fell from his lips.
Something hit him in the center of his chest sending a deep, scarring sense of vertigo down his soul. He woke up screaming, sat up right and swimming in his own sweat. A hand rubbing his nape was trying to comfort him.
It was his brother.
“Dude, you’ve gara take off those clothes or you’re gonna catch a cold.”
His first reaction was to pull away, for what he ended up landing on his ass on the floor.
“Dean, what’s going on?”
He was tempted to say nothing, but even he could see it was going to sound stupid, and Sam wasn’t buying that.
Sam rubbed his face, and then frowned feeling somewhat uncomfortable. He checked his own clothes.
He sighed and started peeling off his shirt and pants. That body he had seen in his dreams was getting revealed in the bed he was sharing.
“What are you doing!?” he asked alarmed.
“You drenched my clothes too. I’m taking them off.”
Dean felt like opposing, but didn’t actually have a valid ground to do so. Then, as a roach ran over his hand, he decided it was time he went back to the bed. He took off his clothes finding out that even his boxers were drenched, so he had to peel them off too, hope they dried by morning, and he could get some sleep. Removing his underwear, though revealed a – well, not so tiny – problem. He slid under the covers with his back to his brother and wished with all his might to get asleep soon, and have no dreams. However his dreams continued, the warm slick body of his brother appearing ever so enticing in his mind, it was hard to resist, hard to ignore, hard not to want.
When dream thinned off again, and his eyes fluttered open in the middle of the night, he found himself held in the tight embrace of his brother, his mouth attached to a patch on his shoulder and a leg thrown over his hip. Closing his eyes, he wished that the thing he felt against this butt was a gun.
“Sammy…” he shook his brother up.
“Hn?” he answered sleepy.
“Don’t cuddle. Go back to your side.”
Sam rubbed his hand into his face and looked behind himself. There wasn’t much space for him to turn.
“Dude, I’m on my side.”
“Well, let me go then,” he removed his brother’s limbs from his body.
As he moved away, that “hopefully it’s a gun” slid up his buttcheek making Sam groan.
“Oh man! You’re hard! Fuck! I knew this was going to happen!”
“Cut the drama, Dean. It’s not for you.”
His big brother’s eyes widened.
Sam really didn’t feel like explaining his sexual life to his brother, but this was looking like a long night and if this was going to finally give them rest, so be it.
“I just… get hard when I sleep.”
Dean arched up one eyebrow. Sam lifted his shoulders and turned back to sleep.
“I just do.”
Dean thought a little bit more.
“Well, how can I be sure that you won’t try to poke me with that thing?”
With a deep sigh, Sam decided it was time to cut the bullshit. He sat up and looked fiercely into his brother’s eyes.
“I’ve had enough of this. I want to sleep. Now either you shut the hell up and sleep or… we do something about it.”
Dean had slid further from retaking his side of the bed.
“Well, I’d like to sleep too, but with you fending the One Eyed Monster, I tell you, dude, I don’t feel that safe.”
Sam was going to furiously retaliate when he noticed the tent above his brother’s loin area.
“I could say the same,” he pointed at the big bulge on his lap. “You could poke out an eye with that.”
Even in the darkness that wrapped them Sam saw what he thought he’d never see in his lifetime: Dean blushed. From the line of his hair and down to his toned chest his skin shone red with shame.
“I’ve been having dreams, okay?”
“They are just dreams.”
“Well, they are driving me nuts.”
Dean sat up fisting the covers to get distracted. It wasn’t something he was comfortable with. The world was closing down on him and he had no place safe to go. Sam sat up but wasn’t sure about how to comfort him.
“I don’t want…”Dean started slowly but interrupted himself with a sudden pause. ”I’ve been through hell, Sammy. I’ve done terrible things down there. Then…” his sipped hard sending shivers down Sam’s spine “I come back and what do we do? You are going demon-psychic, fucking a demon, and what do I do? Fuck an angel and torture demons… this isn’t a good thing, Sammy” he turned to his brother with red rimmed eyes. “I don’t want to fall into this. This is sick… bad… and I don’t want to.”
“Dean, no one is telling you to do it.”
“But it’s in here!” he poked hard is own head. “It feels like if I let go, if I’m not vigilant it will happen!”
“Have you considered that I might not want to fuck with you? You might want to, but I’ll shake you off.”
The older Winchester looked at him startled. Well, that possibility didn’t cross his mind.
“So, you don’t have the dreams?”
That caught Sam off guard.
“Well, the … slash thing… does put some ideas in one’s mind, but, no, not really.”
“But you’ve thought of it.”
It was Sam’s turn to feel uncomfortable.
“On a merely theoretical context.”
Dean arched one eyebrow.
“Theoretical,” he repeated his brother’s word of choice. Sam nodded and then lifted his shoulders for a moment.
“The thought has crossed my mind.”
“Of fucking me!?”
“Fuck Dean, no!” Sam turned to his brother. Then turned his head away a little. “Touching you.”
Dean chuckled up nervously.
“That makes me feel so much better.”
Sam threw himself back on the bed and turned away from his older brother. Dean had a sensual mouth, and yes, he had caught himself fantasizing about what would it be like to rub his finger pads on it. The wet, warm weight of Dean sunk in the mattress next to him, the heat of his skin touching his under the covers.
“This is so fucked up.”
Sam turned to his other side looking at his brother.
Dean almost fell off the bed.
“What??? What happened with theoretical? I liked theoretical!”
“Dean,” Sam said calmly. “This looks like we are not going to get rest while this thing haunts us. So, let’s just kiss. One kiss, we’ll see there’s nothing about it, nothing will ever happen, so we can go back to sleep and get the hell out of here first thing in the morning.”
Dean frowned. It did make sense – a little – but he didn’t want to do it.
“Dude, but you are my brother. I couldn’t kiss a man, less my own baby brother.”
Sam turned away, feeling quite satisfied with himself.
“Then quit complaining and sleep.”
He closed his eyes, hugged his pillow and let out a long sigh wishing his self into deep sleep. The thought, nevertheless, lingered around Dean’s mind. Maybe he did was a kiss away from freedom from his demons, and he knew better than anyone that fantasy and reality were very, very apart. So, maybe, if he did kissed Sam, and he felt grossed, all those ideas about finding him attractive would vanish from his head.
“One kiss, huh?”
“Dude…” Sam mumbled tired, “sleep.”
The mattress shifter again beneath him and a warm, wet body hovered over him. He cracked open one eye only to see his big brother loom over him. One of his hands reached for his jaw and he lowered over his face. He was going to ask “what the hell” but the answer came before the question was voiced. The lips he had fantasized with, even if briefly, fluttered over his mouth first with gentle, shy butterfly kissing, caressing more than kissing, softly lingering, tickling and teasing him. The edges of his lips filled with a maddening itch, an uncomfortable buzzing that made him want to bite them. His mouth parted for his brother and he took in that sassy bottom lip sucking on it, like on a slice of peach. A low moan escaped Dean, who turned him onto his back lowering himself on his baby brother and holding his face with two hands, ducking into his mouth, tongue-diving down his throat.
Slowly their faces smashed together, the kiss turning deeper and wilder answering and accommodating other waking needs. Dean pulled up for air looking cautiously down at his brother. His pretty eyes were almost demon-dark, his face glistening from the mix of sweat and the threads of saliva that escaped their heated kissing.
“There’s nothing to it, huh?” he mocked him.
Sam jumped up pining his brother underneath his body and attacking his mouth. Dean didn’t object, filing away as a fact that he was going to go back to hell, and this time there would be no soul and no reason to drag him out of it. This time he would rot in there.
Sam felt so good, his hands touching his body, the strange confidence in them, unlike the hands of the women who had touched him. Sammy knew him better than anyone.
“Touch me…” his baby brother pleaded.
The need in his voice pushed his buttons, making him reply instinctively to give his brother what he needed. His hand reached down between them and for the first time since they were kids, he touched his brother’s penis. Then again it wasn’t like back then, when he cleaned him and changed his diapers, or when he taught him how to wash himself or to hold his peepee for peeing. His brother had grown big… and very hard. His body was also so much bigger, and so developed, toned and hard all over the place. His boyish face scratched him a little with some stubble, and his voice was no longer the shy soft tinkle of a child, but the deep, low growl of a man.
His brother’s hand reciprocated him wrapping around his arousal, tugging it, beating him off. He hid his face on Dean’s shoulder, breathing against his sweaty, warm neck, pushing aside wandering thoughts about not believing what he was doing with his own big brother.
Their mouths found each other, their free hands found sides, asscheeks, nipples to play with, to arouse each other further, summoning their inescapable doom. Their moaning and gasping was nothing short and nothing different from the sounds that escaped them during battle. A hand then found its way between sweaty asscheeks to a tight hole. A gasp. Two pairs of green eyes staring wide into each other until one of them sighed, relaxed and let his brother in.
“I love you.”
Dean closed his eyes smirking, getting used to the feeling of his brother breaching his body.
“Love you too, Sammy.”
Sam worked his brother open, licking up his mouth, sucking on his tongue and lips before he reached down to lick the ass his fingers were probing. Dean gasped arching against his face. He looked up and took in the vision of his brother lying on his back, looking already debauched. A thought settled firmly, loudly in his mind.
‘This is the body of my brother.’
The thought frightened him. What had he done? For a second, the taste gathered in his mouth became sour.
‘and I want it.’ The thought finished.
His eyes warmed up. Glowing green eyes looked at him. Dean wasn’t objecting him, but wanting him. He lowered his face between his brother’s thighs thoroughly licking, lapping and sucking every bit from his ass to his pubes, ripping not a few howls and growls of pleasure from his big brother. His tongue entered his body wetting it up, repeatedly fucking him, licking up its way up the perineum to his balls, playing them a little before attacking the nice shaft that towered up from a thick nest of pubes smelling of leather and beer. Though he tried twice to deep throat Dean, he decided it wasn’t a trick he would learn on a night, so, he gave up, choosing to suck on the underside of the thick rod and suckling on the head.
As he nursed the weeping head, he thought he would never again be able to suck on a lollipop or gobble on a cone of ice cream. Particularly not in front of his brother.
“That’s so good, Sammy…”
We would have considered continuing if it wasn’t for the fact that his jaws threatened with popping out of place from the pain of holding their position and sucking hard at the same time. Well, he ignored the tricks that made someone be able to give a good and long blowjob. Not like he really needed to know about such things. He looked up at his brother, watching his expression, the delight in his features and carefully observing his reaction as he slid more fingers into his tight chute.
He stilled his hand.
Dean was breathing hard, his chest heaving up wildly, unable to answer. Slowly he calmed down and shook his head.
Sam tried again, slower, rotating his finger inside his brother until he arched up again, shouting and kicking the blanket beneath them.
“Do that again!”
Smirking Sam twisted his finger inside him over and over enjoying the newfound power he had over his older brother.
Dean nodded vigorously while his hips reacted, pushing him down on Sam’s hand, rotating to gain more friction. The way his body waved, the way he moved, he moaned, he looked, like an angel falling deep into sin, drove deep into Sam, awakening feelings he ignored he had. The desire to possess, to own, to have, mark as his, claim, take away from the world and keep only for himself. He leaned over the quivering body and kissed hard the gaping mouth, delighted in being so welcomed among those lips that had called his very thing sick, that had denied vehemently these actions. He wished to praise him, but no word came to his mind that would tell his big brother what was what he admired in him, nor was any sound other than grunting and moaning willing to leave his throat. Hot, sexy, inviting, fuckable.
The word somehow got past his current inability to communicate, pouring on his big brother’s cheek, smeared with a sloppy kiss. The sound spelled Dean, who turned his head to his little brother, displaying his state both of mind and body, the luxuriating decadence of his sexed up state. His legs parted locking then his thighs around his baby brother’s hips.
“Prove it, baby brother.”
Sam grabbed his head between his hands and defiled his mouth, pressing him into the flat, lumpy pillows. One hand moved higher to fist into his short hair, driving him, almost forcing him to keep the position that suited him best, while the other hand sneaked down, held himself in position and slowly thrust forward into the pliant, wet, slick body of his brother.
“that’s what I’m doing…”
Dean arched up willing away the searing pain of his brother forcing his way up his ass.
“Shhh… I’m almost… in…”
He pushed in and they let go a long sight. A pause. A soft kiss over Dean’s eyes, an endearment that was more felt than heard, something very private, very intimate, that belonged only to the two of them, that tied their childhood, their brotherly love with the moment, the desire, their hopes, their need for each other as hunting partners, as family, and their newly discovered lust, their dark desires, their fears of losing salvation for good, of a black fate… and only reinforced their unspoken commitment to remain always together. Dean’s eyes slid warm up to his baby brother’s eyes, melted and hooded as his neck stretched up and his mouth caught those tight, slightly thinner lips he loved. Sam moved up to get deeper into the kiss, and his body got deeper into Dean’s. The friction made them gasp and caught them, hooking them up on the motion, the rhythmical thrusting, the arching and pushing, stimulating and grinding, milking each other’s body for what it was worth. Their names fell ragged from their lips lost in low groans and clipped up sounds.
The movement sped up, hips working like oiled pistons, sweat breaking on their skins, welling and sliding down firm, working flesh. Numb pleasure, bleaching out the whole world took over them, covering everything in blinding white, in liquid warmth, scenting the charged up air with the musk of sex. Instincts took over them. Dean pulled his brother’s knees underneath his hips and pushed his body up, sitting o his lap, holding tight onto his neck . His legs let go the claps he had around Sam’s waist and positioned next to his brother’s hips, gaining leverage. His chest swelled out, a movement of pride, and yet it was not intended to be so. Keeping their eyes locked, a fierce yet lustful glare chaining them together, he lifted his body only to ram it hard down.
His nose wrinkled a little, just like the way it did when he was taking the upper hand against a demon. Defiant and powerful.
“Suck it up, baby bro.”
Sam focused hard, his perky nose flared and his lips twisted, looking up at his brother from a cast down face, meeting his challenge, his fierceness. His arm held his brother tight in place, and he readjusted his legs to push up into his brother’s body, meet his slamming and magnify it. Used to work together, guess each other’s thoughts, find their common tempo, they soon found in this their rhythm, fucking as hard as their bodies allowed.
Sam met his brother’s eyes. His face had changed. It was soft and lovely. His brother, the sinful angel, the purest heart, the horniest man known to him. Angel and demon and none of them. Human and his. His blood, his family, everything that was left for him. His.
His smirk interrupted him.
“I’ll come inside your ass, Honey.”
The thought sent shivers down his spine. He sped up, throwing his brother back on the mattress, holding him still while he fucked all his worth into his ass, howling like a werewolf as climax caught up with him, spending his jizz inside Dean. His older brother shouted with him, holding him tight, breathing in his ear. Boneless, spent, he became a doll in Dean’s arms, as he turned them, slid off him and hoisted his knees on his shoulders, forcing his engorged tool up his soft, relaxed body. The burn of the breaching felt minimal, and nonetheless pleasurable. He moaned for him. His big brother towered upon him and looked so protecting, so beautiful, powerful, breathtaking. He wanted, truly wanted to be made his, make sure that nothing would ever take them apart. No death, no curse, no tainted blood, no angel or demon, doom or judgment day. As he was being rocked by Dean’s frantic pursue of sexual release, lulled by his strength, seduced by his lust, his hand reached out for his face and his throat made noised he couldn’t comprehend, but which meant to tell him he willingly belonged to him, that they wouldn’t be taken apart. His sounds threw Dean off for a second. Big green eyes blinking at him, looking tremendously young and impossibly beautiful. Sam closed his eyes and smiled. He felt in heaven. He was in heaven. Dean was heaven. His heaven. The pumping resumed, fast and delicious until his brother’s throat broke in a long, loud groan and his body collapsed on him, hips quivering, toned arms holding him tight. Soft kisses and caresses along with a large cock slowly slipping out of his ass, jizz dripping copiously from it down the curve of his buttocks to the covers lulled him into the spell of sleep.
Dean kissed his baby brother’s sweet, boyish face. What he said lingered in his mind. “You are my angel.” He smirked brushing of his bangs from his sweaty forehead.
“Dude, you really gara get more nookie.”
~ The End