I Want You To Want Me

[grianchloch]

Title: I Want You to Want Me
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sam is 16 in this fic.
Word Count: 7451
Betas: cocoajava and seleneheart

Notes: PWP. Originally written for a prompt from Round Seven of the rounds_of_kink and posted in the Amnesty Round here. The prompter was britmandelo and the prompt was: "I want you to fuck me." teen!cest, reluctance on Dean's part to consummate the relationship, Sam fingering himself.

Summary: Sam is determined to get what he wants, despite Dean's reluctance.


It was a tough kill, a close call, one that left Dean with screaming in his ears and enough blood soaking through his shirt to make it stick to his skin. It wasn't his blood, not this time, but that didn't exactly make Dean feel any better about the wet cotton plastered to his chest or the thick copper stench of it. The fight had left Dean high on the need to taste life again, to feel a strong heartbeat through soft skin, to hear the sharp sounds of lust in his ear. But he'd needed to see Sammy first.

He didn't have many rituals, not in a life full of superstition. He had routines, comfortable paths to get from morning to night, from one place to another, but rituals were few and far between, and where they existed, they were as important to him as breathing. Kill, make sure Sammy was safe, then head out and let off steam in the best way he knew how, and Dean never had any problem getting laid. It wasn't often that Sam was left behind, he was usually sitting in the Impala or the truck under John's strict instructions to stay put, no matter what. But sometimes he was ordered to stay in whichever room they were calling home that day, behind lines of salt with a gun to hand, just in case.

The guy they had pulled out of the basement was sitting in the passenger seat of John's truck staring blankly ahead. A look in his wallet had provided an address two towns west of where they were and now the threat had been neutralized, all that was left was to get him home.

"See you at the rendezvous point at seven sharp, Dean." John started the truck up and nodded at his oldest son.

"Yes sir." Dean watched the truck pull away, thinking that in some ways, his Dad had never left the marines, not while he had Dean as a one man platoon of his own. And he had his orders. Pack up their stuff ready to leave town first thing the next morning.

He opened the Impala's trunk and took off his jacket, laying it inside. Apart from some splatters, it didn't look too bad. His shirt had taken the worst of it. He stripped it off, and the t-shirt underneath and used a dry sleeve to wipe away most of the blood from his chest. There was an old, oil-stained AC/DC t-shirt stuffed in the corner of the trunk behind a bag of rock salt and he pulled it over his head, thankful to be rid of the godawful smell.

As soon as he was on his way, he called Sam to reassure him they were fine, but he knew that his brother wouldn't relax until he'd seen Dean safe and well for himself. Half an hour later, he pulled into the parking lot of the motel they'd been living in for a week.

Sam flung himself at Dean as soon as he walked through the door. At sixteen, he was already as tall as Dean but skinny, without most of the muscle that Dean carried. He still managed to push Dean back against the door and Dean held him for a moment, close enough to feel the heat of his body.

After a few years of wanting his own space and squirming away if Dean had as much as touched him or hugged him like he had when they were younger, Sam had become almost clingy lately. Dean didn't mind but right now his body was craving something other than a chaste brotherly hug. Dean patted him on the back before trying to untangle himself.

"Dad's fine too. We've gotta meet him at seven, so go to bed, Sammy, get some sleep." Dean's voice trailed off as Sam kept his arms wrapped around his neck and looked at him with heavily lidded eyes. Dean felt heat rushing to places it really shouldn't be, given it was Sam looking at him like that, and he pushed him carefully away. He made straight for his bag, ignoring the way Sam watched him as he crossed the room.

"Are you going out?" There was mild annoyance in Sam's voice and Dean turned to look at him.

"Yeah, for a few hours." Dean peeled off his t-shirt and dropped it on the floor, digging around for fresh clothes in his bag.

"Why?" Sam asked, petulantly.

"I need a drink." Dean didn't add "and a quick fuck". Sam disappeared from view and Dean finally found the shirt he wanted, but he found his way to the bathroom blocked by Sam holding a bottle of Jack.

"You can drink here." Sam stated, matter-of-factly then he looked down and scuffed his bare toes against the worn carpet. "Don't go out, Dean, I've had no-one to talk to all day."

Dean sighed, wavering between the urges thrumming through his veins and Sam's pleading for company. It wasn't hard to choose, but a heartfelt "Please" from Sam clinched the deal.

"Okay, fine. I'm gonna get cleaned up. You can find us a movie to watch on TV."

Jerking himself off in the shower wasn't what he really needed and all it did was take the edge off but twenty minutes later he was sitting with Sam on the couch watching some sci fi movie that Sam seemed pleased to have found. In between the good parts, Sam asked about the hunt and Dean told him, knocking back the occasional shot of Jack, the warm burn in his throat a welcome one. He lay back against the arm of the couch, and towards the end of the movie, Sam got closer until he was lying against Dean's side and had wormed his way under his arm. Dean rested his hand lightly on Sam's hip. He felt Sam relax, become boneless and heavy as he dozed, and Dean brought his hand up and carded his fingers casually through Sam's hair. They'd often curled up together to watch movies when they were kids, but again, Dean wondered what had caused the change in Sam. Why he was suddenly okay with filling up Dean's personal space again. Not that Dean was complaining. He'd missed it but there was something different about it now, and Dean couldn't forget the look Sam had given him earlier. A small knot grew in the pit of his stomach as he tried to relax and watch the end of the movie.

Sam stretched and slipped the fingers of one hand onto Dean's skin beneath the waistband of his jeans just above his hip and Dean swallowed as Sam's fingertips pressed gently into muscle. Dean's cock twitched, showing an inappropriate amount of interest in Sam's touch, and Dean wished now he'd disappointed Sam and gone out anyway. He tried to move without waking him, wanted to put some distance between them before he woke him up, but Sam went with him, hooking a leg over Dean's and slipping it between his thighs. Dean had to bite his lip to keep from groaning out loud as Sam's fingers slipped further into his jeans and closer to his neglected dick. He guiltily stayed where he was, enjoying the small sparks of heat that curled and twisted outwards through his muscles from where Sam's fingers twitched against his skin. Dean's cock ached and he let his head fall back against the couch, knowing if he angled his hips just a little more ...

Dean snapped out of it, appalled at what he'd been considering, and he shook Sam's shoulder.

"Time to hit the sack, Sammy." Dean tried to keep his voice steady. He picked up the TV controller and flicked around the channels pretending to look for something to watch.

Sam opened his eyes, but didn't move, apart from his fingers which he stretched lazily and Dean coughed as his stomach muscles clenched. He tried to push Sam away again.

"I don't have school tomorrow, remember? It's the holidays." Sam reminded him, staying firmly put.

"No, but we have to be out of here by six thirty. And it's way past your bed time, even without school."

Sam snorted.

"I'm not a kid, Dean. Are you going to bed?"

"You're sixteen, and no, I'm not. Not yet." Dean looked down at him, and as their eyes met, Sam extended his fingers and brushed the head of Dean's cock. Dean yelped, he struggled to move away.

"I know what you want, what you need." That look was back on Sam's face and he pressed his now free hand over Dean's crotch, hard enough to make him moan involuntarily. "I know why you go out after a hunt. It's not just drinking, is it? It's sex too."

"You have no idea what I need." He could hardly get the words out and he batted Sam's hand away, but Sam pushed his body against him, grinding against his thigh. Dean stilled with the realization that Sam was as hard as he was and Sam took advantage of his shock to pop the button on Dean's jeans and ease down the zipper.

"Please Dean, let me touch you." Sam used the same tone of voice he used when he wanted more candy, or wanted to watch some geeky documentary on TV, the tone that Dean always caved into but now? This? Dean looked down at Sam. He felt detached, as if he was watching it happen to someone else as Sam's long fingers slipped inside and curled around his hard flesh. Dean groaned with a mixture of frustration, confusion and lust and slammed his head back against the couch.

Sam took it as a yes, go ahead, do what you want, because he freed Dean's cock and lowered his head towards it, tentatively running his tongue over the head. Dean's eyes flew open with a start.

"Woah! Sammy, no!"

He dug his fingers into Sam's hair and pulled him back, stunned by the dark lust in Sam's eyes, and without thinking, he thrust his hips forward. Sam's fingers tightened around his dick, and he was lost. Sam worked him with a confidence that surprised Dean and had him coming hard into his hand way too fast as Dean held him back by his hair. Sam watched intently as Dean's cock pulsed in his hand as if he were studying it for some science project and Dean paled, horrified at what he'd let happen. He pushed himself off the couch and quickly cleaned himself up with the t-shirt he'd discarded earlier and fastened his jeans. Sam sat where he was, examining the come on his hand so Dean grabbed his wrist and wiped it off.

"Sam, we shouldn't have done that, you know that, right?"

Sam stood up and shrugged, crowding into Dean's space again and putting a hand on his neck.

"It's what you always need after a hunt."

"Not from you." Dean warned and moved away. "Go to bed, go to sleep, just ..."

"But Dean ..."

"Sam, no." Dean grabbed his jacket and headed out of the door, ignoring Sam, wanting to be anywhere but in the same room as him because he didn't trust himself anymore. He spent a sleepless night outside in the Impala, not wanting to leave Sam completely alone but needing distance between them.


The next morning, Sam was quiet as they drove to the rendezvous point to meet John, but Dean didn't miss the small knowing glances he shot in Dean's direction. Later, after John had booked them into the next motel and gone in the shower, Sam sprawled on one of the beds, his legs wide. His t-shirt rode up to expose a strip of smooth tanned skin and Dean glanced over and swallowed nervously, thinking it was skin he'd seen so many times before, but now everything was different.

"I had to bring myself off last night." Sam informed Dean and Dean stared back at him, eyes flinty, refusing to imagine Sam wrapping those long fingers of his around his own dick.

He grabbed his jacket and left without a backward glance, slamming the door behind him, again. He'd always given Sam everything he wanted if it was in his power, but not that, no way. He hoped that given time, Sam would drop it, forget about it, find a girl to mess around with. Which was exactly what Dean was about to do. Usually, he wasn't fussy. Girl or guy, as long as they were attractive and up for a one night stand, it was fine with him, but this time, it had to be a girl, hopefully a short, petite blonde, to help him wipe away any lingering thoughts about Sam.


The next time John left them alone, there hadn't been a hunt for a couple of weeks and Dean had treated himself to a couple of beers in the afternoon and lazed on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He and Sam had come to some sort of unspoken understanding. They didn't talk about what happened. Period. Dean had forced himself to quit jumping every time Sam got close because John had started to notice and asked if they'd had a fight. And Sam hadn't tried to provoke Dean, although that only left Dean feeling uneasy. He had a niggling feeling it was because Sam was biding his time, waiting for another opportunity to arise. But that was something Dean wasn't going to give him if he could possibly help it.

Sam got back from school early and let himself quietly into the small apartment, his mind racing over all the ways he could get close to Dean again while John was away. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his brother sitting on the couch.

"Hey." Dean glanced over as the door closed.

"Hey." Sam replied. "Has Dad gone?"

"Yep." Dean concentrated on the TV.

Sam put down his book bag and slipped off his jacket. The only school that had been able to take him this time was a fancy one that insisted on a uniform, and Sam's tie was already loosened, the top three buttons of his shirt undone. He toed off his shoes and walked into the small kitchen.

"Can I have a beer?"

"Nope."

Sam huffed out a sigh and walked over to the couch. But instead of flopping down on it as Dean honestly thought he would, he straddled Dean's lap and kissed him. Dean grasped his hips, holding him in a vice like grip and since both Dean's hands were occupied, Sam kissed him again, pushing his tongue against the seam of Dean's lips, demanding entrance.

Dean knew he should have resisted. He knew that. Should have pushed Sam away, made him see all the ways it was wrong, all the ways it was bad to do this, to want this, but Sam's tongue against his mouth felt so good, his resolve failed. He parted his lips fractionally and Sam seized the opportunity and kissed him with hot, wet, open mouthed kisses that seared his soul. He grasped Sam's right hip tighter as he kissed him back, and ran his other hand up his back over the fine cotton of his white shirt to dig into the unruly hair that stuck damply to his neck. Sam tasted sweet and musky and Dean devoured his mouth as Sam's fingers explored, pulling Dean's tee up so he could press his fingers against the muscled heat of his stomach.

"I want to suck you off."

Dean's eyes narrowed at the words Sam breathed against his lips. He scraped his nails down Sam's spine making him gasp and squirm on his lap.

"No." He growled against his brother's throat.

"Please, Dean?" Sam pleaded.

"Sam ..." There was a warning in Dean's voice, an edge that made Sam pout and sulk even as he bent his head down to crush his mouth against Dean's again.

His hand worked open Dean's jeans and wrapped around his cock, but this time, Dean returned the favour, pulling down the zipper on the black pants Sam wore and taking out his dick. He was rewarded by Sam's eyes widening so wide as someone else touched him for the first time, and it only took moments to bring him off. Sam's body shook as he came, come landing on Dean's belly and t-shirt, his hand tightening around Dean's cock still held in his hand.

"Dean! Ah, Dean ..." Sam pressed his face against Dean's stubbled cheek and panted through it.

Dean sucked at a spot on his neck, leaving the faintest of marks and Sam sat back, running his fingers through the sticky mess on Dean's stomach and curling them back around Dean's erection. Dean reached up and wrapped Sam's school tie around his hand, slowly pulling him into a kiss.

"Make me come." He demanded and Sam had him groaning his name and bucking up into his fist in no time.

Sam flopped back onto the sofa, his shirt unbuttoned and his tie thrown off to one side, and compared the taste of their come, licking his fingers.

Dean rolled his eyes and wandered through to the bathroom to wipe the mess off his stomach and take off his t-shirt. He took a washcloth soaked in cold water back through to where Sam was sitting.

"Get cleaned up and I'll order pizza." He threw the cloth at Sam and grinned at the shocked expression on his face as the cold fabric hit him on the chest and landed in his lap.

"Fuck, Dean! Cold!" Sam shivered and snickered and threw it back at his brother, darting off to the bathroom before he could retaliate.

When the pizza arrived and Sam asked for a beer again, Dean didn't feel like he could say no, not now. So Sam sat smugly on the couch, drinking his beer and Dean watched him, marveling at how their lives had become so complicated so fast.



Now every time it happened, Dean swore it would be the last time, but then Sam would kiss him, needing him, wanting him, and Dean couldn't deny him.

But there were rules. Dean said how far they went and his word was law.

Sam only got to touch. He could kiss Dean, and lick his skin and wrap his fingers around Dean's cock and jack him off. He could bite too, leaving Dean with blood red hickies in hidden places where he would feel them for days, but Dean steadfastly refused to let him suck his cock and fucking was so far off the scale, it never occurred to Dean to mention it.

It didn't matter how much Sam wanted to suck him, slipping to his knees, his mouth open, lips wet and glistening as he licked them in hopeful anticipation. Dean's hand would grasp his unruly dark hair, even letting Sam taste him, little cat licks to the head of his cock while he slowly jacked himself off, holding Sam firmly in place. But no matter how Sam pleaded, lips forming words against the weeping slit, no matter how much he begged to be allowed to take Dean's cock into his mouth and swallow him down, still Dean held him back, his hand a vice in Sam's hair. No matter how he looked up at Dean with innocent eyes that promised every dark sin he could imagine, still Dean refused to give in.


Sam whimpered, hands gripping Dean's hips, desperate to feel Dean's cock stretching his lips, pushing and pulsing down his throat. He knew Dean got off on him begging for it, straining his neck for the slightest brush of his mouth on hard flesh, but what Dean really got off on was when Sam began to lose it, when the teasing note in his voice slipped, when the knowing glint in his eyes was replaced by a raw need that made his breathing ragged and his hands frantic, grasping, trying to pull Dean forward. When Sam's body began to tremble and "Please ..." left his mouth like a sob, only then did Dean let go, groaning as rock hard muscle twitched in his hand, painting Sam's face with splatters of white.

As soon as he was done, as Sam lapped at the stickiness that landed on the corner of his mouth, Dean pushed him back and went down on him, holding the base of his dick to prolong the wait, sucking his brother like a pro, pushing Sam's legs wider apart, pulling back to gently nip at the soft skin of his sac, driving him slowly insane until he begged again.

"Please, Dean, please let me come, I can't ..." Sam shuddered and groaned.

Dean's mouth closed around him again, sucking hard, and Sam dissolved beneath him, pumping up into his mouth, twisting and shuddering. Every time, Dean marveled at how Sam completely surrendered himself when it came to sex. Nothing was held back and there was little trace of the shy, almost sullen teenager Sam had grown into.


And Sam wanted more. Like the first time, he always tried to see if he could catch Dean with his guard down, knowing for certain that if he could just get his lips around him once, Dean wouldn't be so keen to keep him at arms length anymore. It wasn't that what they did left Sam wanting. Dean sucked him off almost every time, and when he didn't, he would wrap his callused fingers around Sam's dick and work him, slowly at first, until Sam was shuddering and pleading with him to finish it.

He just wanted more, wanted all of Dean.

So he teased him, with sinful looks and secret touches that had Dean tied up in knots by the time John finally left them alone again for more than a few hours.


Dean locked the door and slipped the chain into place before rounding on Sam and shoving him hard against the wall. Sam gasped and pulled Dean closer to kiss him, whimpering when Dean bit down hard on his bottom lip, mauling it until it was sore and plump and Sam groaned and squirmed as Dean pulled away, keeping the soft flesh tight between his teeth until it slipped from them.

"Fucking tease." Dean growled as he fumbled with the waistband of Sam's low slung jeans, popping the button and yanking the zipper down. He pulled them down over Sam's slim hips, thumbs grazing the sharp angles of bone beneath skin.

Sam's hands freed Dean from his own jeans, thinking that now was the time to slip to his knees and swallow Dean down. Now while he was blinded by lust and maybe too far gone to care about his rules. But before Sam could crumple to his knees, Dean turned him around fast and shoved him roughly against the wall. He pressed himself against Sam, rampant cock slipping between Sam's thighs to nudge at his balls. Damp with pre-come, Dean thrust forward holding Sam's hands against the wall and pistoning between his brother's legs.

Sam caught on quick and squeezed his thighs together, shuddering as Dean raked across sensitive skin with every stroke. Dean's breathing was harsh against Sam's shoulder as he pushed and shoved his body against Sam's.

Sam got lost in the sensation of being almost fucked, being taken roughly and he writhed in Dean's grasp, moaning when his hands tightened around Sam's wrists.

Dean's pace increased and he grunted against Sam's shoulder, biting down, making Sam cry out and throw his head back, baring his neck for more. Now he knew what he really wanted. Yes, he still wanted to know what it felt like to have Dean's cock in his mouth, stretching his lips and spurting down his throat but this, being possessed, being claimed, this was so much more. Fucking was so far past Dean's rules that it had never been a possibility to Sam before, and now he wanted to know what it felt like for real, wanted Dean in him.

Dean let go of one of Sam's wrists and took hold of his brother's dick. Sam shuddered and bucked, keeping Dean's cock trapped between his thighs, groaning at every thrust, wanting it to slip further back, wanting Dean to force it inside him.

"Please, Dean, fuck me ...I want you to fuck me ..." Sam gasped out, and Dean lost it, coming with a muffled yell, coating Sam's balls, pumping against them as Sam came into his hand.

They stood for what felt like an age to Sam, Dean's body warm and heavy against his back, his arms wrapped around Sam in an unspoken reassurance.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so ..." Dean kissed Sam's shoulder, torn between yanking his pants up and leaving and pulling Sam down to the bed and falling asleep in his arms. Part of Dean wanted to run hard and fast until he couldn't feel this need, this craving for Sam anymore, but part of him wanted more.

"Don't be." Sam turned around and kissed him. "I want it, Dean, want you to fuck me next time."

Dean blanched and pulled away from Sam, cleaning himself up and fastening his jeans.

"There's not gonna be a next time, Sammy."

He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Running from Sam was getting to be a habit and didn't really help, but getting wasted just might.

"Dean ..."

When Dean glanced at him, Sam looked lost and Dean felt like an asshole for leaving, but he needed to get away from the ever present itch under his skin that came from being around Sam.

"No."

Dean left, slamming the door behind him.


When he got back, a half dozen shots of Jack warming his belly, Sam was in bed and Dean slipped out of his clothes without turning on the light and slid under the covers on his own bed. As soon as he lay down, Sam got up and burrowed his way under Dean's bedclothes until he was nestled against Dean's side, and Dean slid an arm around his shoulder.

"'m sorry, for running out."

"It's okay."

They lay in silence for a while and Dean began to drift off.

"Why can't we fuck?"

"Jesus, Sammy!" Dean started awake, hating Sam's inability to let things alone. "Why do you think?"

"But we do other stuff." Sam sounded way too logical in the darkness.

"Yeah, well, we shouldn't be doing that either." Dean grumbled, ignoring the fact that his fingers were traitorously stroking Sam's neck. "It would be different, we wouldn't just be fooling around any more."

It scared Dean sometimes, the intensity he felt when he was skin to skin with Sam, his soul laid as bare as their bodies. Scared him that someday Sam would resent what they were doing and walk out of Dean's life forever.

Sam propped himself up in an elbow and half sprawled over Dean's chest, breathing hotly on a nipple.

"I know what I want, Dean, I'm not a kid."

Dean snorted.

"You're sixteen."

"You were fourteen when you first killed on a hunt."

"It's not the same." Dean huffed and frowned.

"Why? Why is it okay for you to have been killing things since you were younger than me but it's not okay for me to want to have sex?" Sam used the same voice he used when he was arguing a point with John, and Dean's frown turned into a scowl.

"Leave it alone, Sammy."

Sam put his hand on Dean's chest, fingers splayed as if to hold him there.

"You think this is wrong, don't you?"

In the darkness, Dean bit his lip, thankful that Sam couldn't see his face. He didn't want to answer because yes, he did think it was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong. It felt so good being tangled up with Sam even more than they had been growing up. That part definitely felt right, the extra layer to the connection they'd always shared even though Dean was constantly conflicted by the whole thing.

"I don't think it's right. We're brothers, Sam, and brothers don't normally do this stuff."

"So it goes with everything else in out lives." Sam drew circles on Dean's skin with his fingers. "It's not normal for Dad to hunt monsters. It's not normal to learn how to strip down guns when you're twelve. It's not normal to hang around in graveyards digging up corpses in the middle of the night to salt and burn them."

Sam paused and his fingers stilled, resting on Dean's collarbone.

"It's normal to have a home, but we've never had one. Nothing in our lives is normal, Dean, so why should this be? We're not hurting anyone not if no-one else knows. Why can't we make up our own rules like we do with everything else?"

"No, we're not normal, I'll give you that, but I'm still not gonna fuck you."

Dean pulled Sam closer even as Sam rolled his eyes, a petulant note still in his voice.

"You still think I'm a kid, don't you?" It was more of an accusation than a question but he settled down against Dean, throwing an arm across his stomach. "I haven't been a kid for a long time."

Dean sighed softly and stroked Sam's neck, lulling him to sleep as he'd done when they were younger. He sometimes wondered what it would have been like if they'd had ordinary lives, if they'd grown up with a Mom and a home, but not often. Nothing could change things now and anyway, Dean was generally happy with his life. However fucked up it was, he couldn't imagine living any other way. Didn't make Sammy right about everything, though.

Dean fell asleep with Sam's sprawled on top of him.



It was a weeks before John left them alone again for a few days, and at first, Sam tried his best not to tease Dean, even though it drove him crazy being close to him and not being able to touch, not like that. It made him clumsy, and John eyed him on more than one occasion as Sam dropped something to the floor with a clatter or tripped over his own feet. Dean, however, seemed more at ease than he had since the thing with Sam had started, to the point of stealing kisses when he knew for certain they wouldn't be seen. Then they began to make use of any time they were left alone, even if just for an hour, with messy, heated fumblings that left them sweaty and sticky.

Dean was out and Sam was in the shower when John took a call from Caleb and left, telling Sam through the bathroom door that he wouldn't be home for three days, maybe more and that he would call Dean and let him know.

Sam finished up in the shower and slung a towel round his waist, cranking the AC up to max and helping himself to a beer from the fridge. He was sprawled on one of the beds when Dean got back and sat up with a start when he heard the door opening.

"I thought you were Dad coming back for something." Sam glanced at the empty bottle and relaxed, flopping back down.

"So just because he's gone you think it's alright to be drinking beer?"

"You gonna stop me?" Sam replied defiantly and Dean smirked.

Without another word, Dean grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and popped them open as he walked towards Sam. He took a long drink, downing most of his in one go and put the icy bottles down on the nightstand. He pushed Sam's legs apart and knelt between them, loosening the towel from around Sam's waist. Sam looked up at him, feeling squirmy inside at being splayed out naked in front of Dean.

Dean bent down and placed a kiss on Sam's left hip with cold wet lips. Sam shuddered and watched Dean unbutton his pants and push his jeans down below his hips, freeing his cock so he could wrap his fingers around it. Sam began to sit up, reaching for Dean, but Dean pushed him back down to the bed.

"Lie still."

Sam swallowed and nodded, watching intently as Dean fisted himself, shivering as Dean's eyes raked over his body from his face down over his chest to his groin, lingering on his cock which twitched under the scrutiny. Dean dragged the index finger of his free hand over the weeping tip of his cock and reached down between Sam's spread legs.

"Do you really want me to fuck you?" He slid his finger over the tight ring of muscle between Sam's ass cheeks and Sam hissed at the touch, eyes fluttering closed as the fingertip pushed inside him.

"Yes ..." Sam groaned

Dean tightened his grip on himself, increasing his pace as he pushed a little deeper into Sam's body, groaning at the way the tight heat gripped his fingertip.

"Tell me, tell me what you want." Dean's voice was hoarse.

"Fuck Dean, I want you to fuck me, want your cock, please ..."

The words, the need in Sam's voice, the whole dirtybadwrong of it all twisted in Dean's gut and he came with a grunt, shooting his load over Sam's stomach. He pulled his finger from Sam's ass and tugged his t-shirt over his head, flopping down on the bed and taking off his boots and jeans. Sam frowned at him.

"I thought you were gonna ..."

"Maybe later." Dean couldn't help smirking at the pout on Sam's face.

"Not fair, Dean." Sam propped himself up on his elbows and drew a finger through the mess on his stomach. He held the finger in front of his face, examining the sticky substance and once he knew Dean was watching, he put it to his lips and sucked it into his mouth.

"Now who's not playing fair." Dean grumbled and scooted back to sit against the headboard, pulling Sam to him.

It was Sam's turn to smirk and he straddled Dean's hips and looked down at him, holding his gaze as he wiped his hand across his belly as the cooling liquid began to run down into the hair at the base of his cock. He reached back, sliding his fingers down his crack, teasing his hole. Shuddering at the contact, he gasped and rocked his hips back as he touched himself and pushed at the muscle with one finger, moaning as it slipped inside, lubricated with his brother's come.

Dean's eyes widened as he realized what Sam was doing, and for a second, Sam thought he was going to stop him, going to grab his wrists and pull his hands away but Dean reached round him instead, and grabbed Sam's ass cheeks, pulling them apart and sliding his fingers deep between them. He groaned as their fingers touched where Sam was teasing himself, and looked back up at Sam. Dean's hands tightened, pulling Sam further open and his voice was harsh, ragged.

"Do it. Show me what you want, Sammy."

Sam groaned and bit his lip as he pushed his finger deeper until it was completely buried in his ass. Dean's fingertips were so close, they grazed over Sam's hole and sent little shocks of pleasure through him as he began to fuck himself. It felt odd to start with, but Dean touching him there made him quiver with anticipation and he twisted and groaned as it slipped in and out of his body. Feeling bold, he added another, and Dean buried his face against Sam's chest, groaning as Sam stretched himself, easing the second finger inside.

"Deeper." Dean's voice wasn't much more than a growl and Sam whimpered, following Dean's command and rocking back into Dean's hands as they kneaded his flesh. His fingertips brushed over a sensitive spot inside and he stilled and touched it again. His body shuddered and his cock jerked, as Dean smirked up at him

"More."

Sam complied, adding a third finger and shuddering every time they grazed over the little bunch of nerves that made him see stars.

"Please Dean, want it to be you, want you in me. Fuck me, please ..."

Dean sat forward, trapping Sam's cock between them. It left a damp trail on his skin as Sam bucked against him and back into his hands.

"Want you to come first."

Sam shoved his fingers deeper, riding his hand as he squirmed and bucked, increasing the friction around his cock and it didn't take long before he was coming with a cry. He collapsed against Dean's chest and eased his fingers out with a whimper. Dean kissed his shoulder, holding him steady while he pushed his hand between them and scooped up Sam's warm come. As he nudged Sam's face around so he could capture his mouth with his, he reached down and wrapped his hand around his own cock, slicking it. Sam's thighs trembled as Dean pushed him back just enough to position the tip of his cock against Sam's quivering entrance.

"Relax, Sammy, push down and let me in."

Sam's eyes widened as Dean entered him, slowly, inch by inch, each time waiting for Sam's muscles to adjust to the intrusion before pushing deeper. It was so different from his own fingers, and the solid muscle stretched him so much it burned as Dean pushed it deeper. Sam held himself up, bracing his arms on Dean's shoulders.

"It hurts, Dean."

"Always does the first time, but not for long." Dean stroked his back. "I'll go slow and you'll see how good it can feel."

It was a pleasurable form of torture, Sam's heat gripping his cock but having to ease into it when the urge to grip his hips and force him open was a strong one. But instead, Dean captured Sam's mouth in a soft kiss which disguised the raw need raging inside him, captured Sam's whimpered breath as he trembled and sat back, inch by inch, finishing what Dean had started and stilling. Impaled on Dean's cock, every nerve felt raw. He felt too open, too exposed and too vulnerable. Dean had been right, this was different, was more intense than he ever could have imagined and he buried his head in the crook of Dean's neck.

"Dean, I ..." He mumbled against Dean's skin and Dean's arms went round him, petting his shoulders, his hair, every touch a reassurance.

"Shh, it's okay." Dean whispered. His body thrummed with the aching need to fuck up into the silky velvet that held him so tight, to make Sammy ride him hard and fast, to come deep inside him, claim him. But he held back, waiting for Sam to let him know that it was really going to be okay, that he still wanted this.

Sam trembled and kissed him again, no more than a brush of his lips, and slowly tilted his hips from side to side, groaning at the pressure inside him.

"Want you." It was all he could say, but it was all Dean needed to hear.

He pulled Sam closer and rocked up into him, letting him get used to the movement, the push and pull of his cock inside him. He waited until he relaxed a little more, and then brought up his knees behind Sam to give him leverage. He planted his feet on the bed and tilted his hips up, groaning as Sam looked straight into his eyes, pupils blown wide, and began to move, pulling himself up and sitting back down with a long sigh, the sweat beginning to trickle down his back despite the chill of the room.

Dean let Sam set the pace, panting as he rode him, slowly at first, until Dean squirmed around beneath him, changing the angle so his cock would scrape against Sam's sweet spot every time. Dean didn't know how much longer he could hold back. The sight of Sam writhing in his lap as he fucked himself was too sinful for words and Dean grasped his hip harder with one hand, not caring if he left bruises, and slipped the other between them to wrap around Sam's dick. Sam shuddered and slammed back down, splitting himself open even wider on Dean and he threw his head back as Dean pulled and tugged on his cock. Dean was close, so close, but he wasn't about to let go quite yet.

He licked at the sweat from Sam's chest, nipped at his nipples, laving them with his tongue until the onslaught of pleasure became too much for Sam, and he jerked as he came, spurting over Dean's chest again, his body spasming around Dean's cock, and finally, Dean let go, pumping up into Sam, fingers digging into his skin, marking him inside and out, holding him as they shuddered against each other, holding him close as they both came down. Sam's arms wrapped around his neck as if he was never going to let go, and Dean kissed his face, murmuring soft words over his skin.

He tried to be a gentle as possible when he pulled out, but Sam winced and lay down on the bed, boneless, letting Dean clean him up without a word, his eyes tracking his every movement. Sam shivered at the more intimate touches, each one skittering down sensitive nerve endings, reminding him of what they'd just done. When Dean came back from the bathroom, Sam rolled over and reached for him and Dean pulled him close. He stroked Sam's hair and kissed his forehead.

"You always come back." Sam mumbled, and Dean looked at him, his brow furrowing. "Mom's gone and Dad doesn't hang around much if he can help it but you always come back. To me."

Sam's voice sounded so young and fragile and Dean gathered him up in his arms.

"Is that what this was about? I'll always come back, Sammy, with or without this, you know that. You're my brother."

"I know, but I wanted all of you."

"You've got all of me, Sammy, always have had."

Sam's smiled, the first honest to goodness smile Dean had seen on his face for a long time and he relaxed, snuggling back into Dean's arms and yawning. He was asleep in minutes and Dean held him through the night, feeling the need to stay awake and watchful in case Sammy needed him.


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