Finally 1/3
Mar. 13th, 2011 10:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rain_n_snowtitle: Finally
rating: NC-17
author: deansgirl369
pairings: Sam/Dean
characters: Sam, Dean
spoilers: none
word count: ~9000 total
summary: Since Dean went to hell, Sam has lost all hope. If he gets his brother back will they finally admit their deepest, darkest secrets?
disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke. The story belongs to me (and Sam and Dean)!
a/n: this was the first fanfic i ever wrote...so please...be gentle...i am leaving it as i wrote and not editing.
Sam sat slumped in the sunken lawn chair, facing the ocean, no sign that he saw or recognized anything around him, the half empty bottle of cheap whisky dangling forgotten from his left hand. His attention seemed to be turned inward, his body projecting defeat and utter exhaustion. No outside force could penetrate his current state of empathy. Dean was gone…truly gone this time.
Everything on Sam hurt, all the time. Nothing mattered and even drinking didn’t seem to lessen the torture anymore. He missed his brother every minute and now all he wanted was escape.
There had always been Dean.
He had been the only constant in Sam’s entire existence. Dean took care of him; Dean was his friend, his family, his protector…there had been more, more Sam imagined and wanted, but he supposed this was his punishment for wanting more than he ever should have. Wanting something that would have driven Dean away had he ever let that control slip just one moment and let it show.
Still, the fact that now he would never even have that possibility hurt even more. "Dean" did he moan it or did it just resound inside his own head? Who cared anyway? Nothing mattered. And apparently he was too chicken shit to end it all, to send himself to hell to join Dean. Dean was the brave one, the strong one, and now Sam was supposed to just carry on without him? It wasn’t working. He was slipping away, and he didn’t care, in fact, he was hoping for oblivion.
"Sammy?" Sam knew he was truly losing it now, because his head came up and this time he could have sworn he heard it, that it was really Dean calling his name. He swiveled hesitantly, afraid to find out that this was just another case of wishful thinking, when across the expanse of sand, he saw Dean. Stumbling to his feet, his dire haste making him clumsy, Sam staggered toward this new torturous illusion. He didn’t care. An illusion of Dean was better than nothing, he would take it and relish it for however long it lasted. But when his running brought him close enough he could feel Dean, hope washed through him like sunshine after years of midnight.
Dean stumbled when Sam's large body slammed into him, nearly taking them both off their feet. But Sam’s heavy, muscled arms instantly surrounded him, lifting him momentarily off the ground, crushing him in a painfully tight embrace. A good pain. No way Dean would push him away, no way in hell.
Sam leaned back enough to look down into his brothers face, tears streaming from his eyes, “Dean”, he whispered hoarsely, his large hands beginning to run over his brothers back, as if reassuring himself that it truly was Dean, that he was intact and whole, and really standing here.
Dean’s mouth opened and Sam sighed, “Don’t say it, Dean. I know, no chick flick moments, but please, just don’t say it, not this time, just…just let me touch you.” Dean wasn’t sure now what he had intended to say, but it wouldn’t have been anything that would have caused his brother to move away, not even one inch. The feel of Sam’s huge calloused hands on his bare flesh, comforting, stroking, making Dean feel cherished was not something he would jeopardize losing for anything. No one had held Dean like this, had seemed to need to assure themselves of his safety…since when? Ever? Maybe before his mother had been killed, but that was a lifetime ago.
Dean sighed, relishing the contact. No, he had no intention of pushing Sam away. He would suck this in, wallow in every second of it and store it all in his memory to take out and cherish in the thousands of days ahead when it wouldn’t happen again. Sam dropped his head to Dean's shoulder as he continued his stroking, his hands now traveling the length of Dean's arms from his shoulder down to his hands. Quiet sobs still wracking Sam’s body as he did so.
Leaning back just slightly, Sam brought his hot hands up to Dean's shoulders again, and slid them down the front of his body, just inside his ribs. Dean leaned into the caress, his thoughts shifting slightly. When Sam's touch began to ascend back toward his shoulders Dean held his breath, hoping those fingers would skim over his nipples, even a light brush. His need for comfort melding with the overwhelming, soul deep need for Sam that he had felt for so long, but kept so rigidly in check.
Sam's fingers stroked softly over Dean’s nipples, and Dean hoped he didn’t catch the swift intake of breath, or the slight jerk of his chest as it happened.
Sam did notice and his face contorted minutely. ‘Stupid Sam, stupid. Be careful. Don’t push him away, disgust him in the same minute you get him back. Why do you have to try to take too much? Just cherish this moment when he lets you touch him without repercussion or jerking away, mumbling about how girly you are. Just love him, as you always have and don’t let him see the sickness inside your head and your heart.’
Sam's eyes flickered up to Dean’s, to make sure he wasn’t repulsed, and Dean’s own fluttered halfway open and Sam released his breath on a long sigh when he saw only acceptance, and…need?
Dean had never seemed to need anyone or anything. He was an island, a rock, never wavering and never appearing weak. But Dean leaned into Sam, his eyes shifting away as if in embarrassment or shame. But he was definitely silently asking for more, or at least his body was.
Sam thought he must need this, must need comforting, and reassurance, like anyone. He just never asked for it. Yes, that was it, for he surely didn’t need anything sexual, he got that in spades. In pretty much every town they stopped in, or so it seemed to Sam as he sat in motel room after motel room, nauseated, yearning and hurting and waiting for his big brother to stagger in, drunk and sated from yet another nameless girl.
As long as Dean was allowing his touch, he would not release the sick freak inside himself. He would give the comfort Dean needed and never requested, and that would be enough. It was so much more than he had ever gotten or expected from Dean, and he intended to cherish it, memorize every moment and store them away.
"Don’t stop, Sammy. Please touch me." Dean’s rough voice was barely a whisper, but Sam was close enough to feel the breath on his chest, raising goosebumps where it brushed his skin. Sam looked at Dean, his eyes full of yearning, thankful Dean didn’t raise his gaze to find the need laid bare there.
He placed his hands along Dean's sides, just under his armpits and stroked downward, his fingers pressing deeper this time, digging into the muscle, then rasping over each rib as if counting them, his touch getting lighter as it approached Dean's waist. Then, as if of their own volition, his fingertips, feather light, traced the muscles from Dean's waist that ran inward above his jutting hipbones, toward his groin. Dean moaned and Sam jerked his hands away, uncertainty filling the look he raised to Dean's eyes.
Dean inwardly cursed himself. ‘Damnit, how had that escaped?' Maybe he could write it off as pain, say something was wrong. He was glad he had diverted Sam’s attention from that area anyway, really, since that last touch had brought him from the semi hardness he had immediately achieved at Sam’s first caress, to full, heavy, aching arousal. Here he was asking for comfort from his brother, and he risked seeing disgust if Sam noticed he was rock hard from it. "Just sore, sorry Sam, didn’t mean to scare you."
But Sam was on the edge. He was pretty sure it didn’t matter anymore why he had groaned like that, he only knew that the sound escaping Dean's lips had taken him from excited to throbbing hardness. He wasn’t sure he could stand it any more. He couldn’t stop touching while Dean would allow it, yet he knew he was on the edge of pushing into that realm that would repulse his brother and ruin everything between them.
Maybe not.
Maybe Dean, his Dean, who had loved him through all the messed up bullshit of their lives, would be able to write it off, to love Sam anyway, if he knew. He had seen all of the weakness in Sam’s life, had taken it all in stride, and had still come back, had still taken care of him, all of his life.
Sam's breath came out on a half moan half sigh, as he leaned forward just slightly, and laid his open mouth on the tanned, sweat misted skin just below Dean's shoulder blade. Dean jerked as if burned but didn’t pull away, his breath catching and holding as he waited, unsure what to think of what was happening, afraid to question, let alone hope.
They stayed that way for several long, heavy moments before Sam's tongue flicked out to brush so lightly it merely disturbed the baby fine hair on Dean's skin.
But Dean was so tuned in, so aware of every minute detail that he felt it. He stood immobile, afraid to even breathe, unwilling to move for fear that Sam would take it away, laugh it off like it was a joke, or just a mistake.
He didn’t know what it meant, that soft brush of Sam's tongue, he only knew he wanted to feel it again, it and so very very much more. So he stood, hoping against hope that it meant what he wanted it to.
But Sam pulled back and slowly raised his gaze to his older brother’s, his fingers shifting just slightly from where they rested ever so lightly at Dean's abdomen to skim just under the low slung waistband of his briefs. Dean sucked in a breath, wondering if Sam realized where those fingers were, and how just how achingly close they were to his raging arousal.
He wanted to shift, to move enough so that Sam's fingers would brush his cock, needed to feel his hands on him there so badly, had needed it for so long. But fear rode him hard and he clenched his jaw tight, and waited, unaware he held his breath.
‘Dean?" Sam's voice was soft, almost sounding like the hesitant teenager he used to be. But his eyes burned, begging for…something. Dean let out a long, weary sigh and thought ‘to hell with it’ and leaned his head up toward Sam’s, stopping just a hair away from touching their lips together. The last tiny movement would have to be Sam’s. Dean needed to know that he was aware of what was being asked. He did, love rushing through him almost as strong as fear. He moved that extra millimeter, brushing his lips against Dean's, feather-light, just barely brushing.
“God, Sammy,” Dean groaned, as his control shattered, grabbing the back of his brothers head, pulling him into a kiss that was urgent, almost painful in its intensity, fingers clenching in his brother‘s silky hair. Teeth clashed, then tongues melded, searching, demanding, needing and begging for what they had both desperately wanted for so long and somehow knew they would never have.
Years of frustration and thwarted desire fueled that kiss, Sam slanted his head to get closer, to feel more, despite the pull of Dean‘s fingers in his hair, holding him tight, clasping and unclasping at his neck.
Damn, the taste of Sam: hot and sweet and rich, and all Sam, innocent and sensual all at once. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get deep enough. Dean held his head, still so afraid Sam was going to freak out and pull away, yelling about what a freak of nature Dean was and what was he thinking?! Run away, leave him again, and God, but he didn’t think he could live with that.
But Sam didn’t try to pull away, instead pushing his hips into Dean's and they both gasped at the feel of their hard heavy cocks brushing together for the first time. Even through layers of cotton and denim it was scorching and gut wrenching.
Finally. Finally.
They ground against each other frantically as they kissed, no devoured, each others mouths, hands roaming over backs. Sam’s hands skimming over taut muscle and sweat slick skin, until Dean pulled his head back slightly. Sam tried to follow, to keep the kiss intact.
Dean smiled that half smile that made Sam's insides clench and twist, "I just want to feel you, Sammy. I need to feel your skin. God I need to feel your skin." his hand went to the side of Sam's waist, ducking under the soft faded t shirt, a sigh escaping as he finally experienced that soft skin over hard muscle that had taunted and teased him for so long.
All those mornings when Sam would walk in the kitchen, bleary eyed and rubbing his exposed stomach, or reach for something, exposing a sweet strip of honey colored skin just above his jeans, or God, the times when he came out of the shower, just a low slung towel covering his hips, drops of water slipping over long lean muscle. Dean’s eyes had feasted on him every damn time, his tongue running unconsciously over his lips, imagining the feel, the taste, of Sam.
Skimming his fingers over skin, he pulled the shirt over Sam’s head, dropping it to the ground.
“Dean.” Sam moaned as Dean’s hands began brushing over his torso, softly, then digging into muscle, caressing every inch of finally exposed flesh. Sam cried out when fingers brushed over his nipples, then settled to pluck and twist lightly, his eyes drifting shut in erotic pleasure. Dean ducked his head, his mouth replacing his fingers to nip and suck at Sam’s hardened nipple. Sam’s hands clenched almost painfully in the muscles of Dean's hips as he ground against him, needing more, wanting everything he had dreamed of for so long.
“Dean. Please Dean, I need…" he breathed out heavily, his voice hoarse, "please."
"What Sammy," Dean was on fire and he felt that his heart was going to explode from his chest.
Sam wanted him? Needed him even a fraction of the way his big brother had been dreaming of having him? He was terrified he was going to wake up to yet another nasty motel room with his brother sleeping so close and yet a million miles away. How many nights had he listened to Sam sleep? Turned his head to stare at him as he jacked off, biting his lip in an attempt to keep from moaning Sam's name? How many nights had he awoken to hear Sam jerking off, wondering who and what he was wishing for, yearning to cross that few feet and brush Sam's hands away, replace them with his own hands, or better yet, his mouth, his body? Too many to count. Now he just prayed that this wasn’t a dream, or if it was, that he wouldn’t wake up, ever.
“What do you need, Sammy?" Dean rasped against his ear.
Funny how much Sam had always hated that nickname, wanted to punch his brother every time he said it. Now he reveled in it, knew that it was his brother’s name for him, a connection that they, and only they, shared. “Tell me, and its yours, Sam. Just tell me."
"I need to feel all of you, I want to taste you, to explore you. I want so much, but I know I won’t last. I feel like I'm going to explode, shatter in a million pieces. I want it all, and I…I'm terrified that you will leave me if you know how much I want, the sickness inside of me for you." Sam hung his head, afraid to meet his brothers gaze, afraid to see rejection or God forbid, repulsion in his beautiful hazel eyes.
Dean's hand rested along the side of Sam's face, his thumb hooking along his jaw line, pushing his head up to look into his eyes. "Sam. I'm not going anywhere. I didn’t leave you this time, I was forced. You know that.”
Dean leaned in, running his open mouth and teeth over the sharp edge of Sam’s jaw line, drawing a soft keening sound from the back of Sam’s throat, pulling back to look at him again, he continued, “You are the one who was able to walk away from me. Do you know the fear I feel everyday? Some nights I'm afraid to fall asleep, afraid that I will wake up and you will be gone. You walked away so easily, leaving me…" a small hitch in his voice betrayed the depth of his agony, and Sam melted against him, into him.
"I'm sorry Dean. It was all just too much. I wanted you, burned for you, and thought you would hate me for how I wanted you. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I needed to get away, to try to feel human again, not just an extension of you, a leech sucking the life out of you and wanting what I could never have. But, we‘re both here, and I won’t lose you again. Just try to get rid of me…" he huffed out a laugh, but it dissolved into a tiny sob. "You are the only thing I have in this world. The only thing I want or need, if you love me half as much as I love you."
Dean's thumb stroked along Sam’s cheekbone, tracing the soft skin and jutting bone, "God, you are so beautiful Sam…you have no idea how much I need you. I wasn’t able to walk away. How could I think you are wrong, when I have wanted you, like some stupid fucking girl in high school, for so long. The difference was, I was willing to take whatever piece of you I could have, pretend for as long as necessary that I just loved you like a brother. Better that than nothing. I was so empty when you were gone, Sam."
"Sammy." Sam said softly.
"Huh?" Dean cocked his head slightly, watching Sam with a crease between his brows.
"I want you to call me Sammy. I'm your Sammy, always have been."
The happiness that spread over Dean’s beautiful face was like watching the sun rise to Sam, and he marveled that it didn’t hurt his eyes.
“Mine. My Sammy. Mine.” He leaned forward, burying his open mouth at the juncture of his little brother’s neck and shoulder, sucking and licking that gorgeous golden skin, unable to pull in enough of the taste.
Sam’s deep moan only caused Dean to suck harder, to mark Sam, brand him as his own. He knew that no matter what tomorrow brought, he would be able to look at his brother and see his mark there, know his mouth had created that deep bruise. And the rest of the world would see it too, and that brought a gut deep satisfaction to Dean.
Sam dropped his head to the side, wanting to give Dean as much access to as much of him as he would take. He felt his stomach clench at the thought of that bruise, that proof that this was real, it had really happened.
Tracing his tongue up the side of his little brother's neck to again capture his mouth, Dean drank in the flavor of Sam, the delicious essence of this being that had always been the center of his world. Sammy, his little brother, his to protect and teach and guide and love. So much, so many ways he loved his little brother, and this was just the incredible culmination of all those years of want, of secret need.
Skimming his fingertips down the slightly sweat covered muscle of Sam’s back, Dean brought his fingers around to the top of Sam’s jeans, glancing up to try to read what his eyes said. “Are you sure, Sammy? Is this really what you want? Please be sure.”
Sam gulped in a huge, unsteady breath and held it, exhaling after a few long seconds with a breathy. “You. I know…I’m sure, please Dean, just…please.” His hips hitching forward involuntarily.
Dean’s fingers were slightly shaky as he undid the button of Sam’s jeans, then slowly drug the zipper down over his massive, hot cock, then, placing both hands on the outside of his baby brother’s hips, he thrust both denim and the boxers underneath down to his smooth, lean thighs.
His mouth watered as his eyes took in the beautiful length of Sam’s dick, already moist with pre-come. He had known Sam was proportionate, he had seen him in his underwear plenty of times, but hard…well, hard Sam was bigger than Dean, and he had always been proud of what he was packing.
He traced one long digit over the head, gathering the slick liquid and bringing it to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste, then linger over the salty, delicious flavor. “Mmmmm.” he moaned quietly, “I’ve wondered so many times what you would taste like, Sammy.”
Sam clenched his teeth to keep from spilling, from totally losing all control at the sight of Dean licking his come off that finger. “Oh…God, Dean…”
“You wanna know what it tastes like to me, Sammy?” Dean’s eyes held Sam’s unflinchingly. “Tastes like you belong to me.” And belonging to him, though that was more than Dean was ready to admit to.
Sam’s hands dropped to frantically open Dean’s jeans as well, to finally get to see and feel the dick he had dreamed of since he was old enough to want, to know what it meant to desire. With the first touch, he sighed, breath blowing out as he wallowed in the sensation.
At the feel of Sam’s hand wrapping around his engorged length and pulling him from his jeans, Dean let out a groan and his eyes dropped closed, his fingers involuntarily gripping Sam tighter, bringing a moan to his younger brother’s lips as well.
“Dean, I’m sorry, but I’m…ahhhh…I’m so close, I’m not gonna last,” Sam gritted out.
Bringing their cocks together, both brothers moaned deep. Finally.
Dean gripped and stroked them, rubbing them against each other, both of their hips jerking, frantic with their long pent up need. “Yes, Sammy, let go. Come for me, baby. Let me see how much you want me. Come.”
And Sam did, gasping and clenching his fingers hard into his big brother’s hips as his head started to drop back, only to be snapped back at Dean’s deep voice, “Look at me, I wanna see you…”
“Deeeean, God Dean, yesss…” Sam groaned, body jerking and twitching, as he stared into his brothers beautiful green eyes.
“Now you, Dean, please, give it to me. Say my name, Dean, say it.” Wrapping his own larger hand over his brothers, he stroked just three more times before Dean’s come spilled over their fingers and bellies to mix with his own, Sam’s name like a benediction on his lips.
chap 2
rating: NC-17
author: deansgirl369
pairings: Sam/Dean
characters: Sam, Dean
spoilers: none
word count: ~9000 total
summary: Since Dean went to hell, Sam has lost all hope. If he gets his brother back will they finally admit their deepest, darkest secrets?
disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke. The story belongs to me (and Sam and Dean)!
a/n: this was the first fanfic i ever wrote...so please...be gentle...i am leaving it as i wrote and not editing.
Sam sat slumped in the sunken lawn chair, facing the ocean, no sign that he saw or recognized anything around him, the half empty bottle of cheap whisky dangling forgotten from his left hand. His attention seemed to be turned inward, his body projecting defeat and utter exhaustion. No outside force could penetrate his current state of empathy. Dean was gone…truly gone this time.
Everything on Sam hurt, all the time. Nothing mattered and even drinking didn’t seem to lessen the torture anymore. He missed his brother every minute and now all he wanted was escape.
There had always been Dean.
He had been the only constant in Sam’s entire existence. Dean took care of him; Dean was his friend, his family, his protector…there had been more, more Sam imagined and wanted, but he supposed this was his punishment for wanting more than he ever should have. Wanting something that would have driven Dean away had he ever let that control slip just one moment and let it show.
Still, the fact that now he would never even have that possibility hurt even more. "Dean" did he moan it or did it just resound inside his own head? Who cared anyway? Nothing mattered. And apparently he was too chicken shit to end it all, to send himself to hell to join Dean. Dean was the brave one, the strong one, and now Sam was supposed to just carry on without him? It wasn’t working. He was slipping away, and he didn’t care, in fact, he was hoping for oblivion.
"Sammy?" Sam knew he was truly losing it now, because his head came up and this time he could have sworn he heard it, that it was really Dean calling his name. He swiveled hesitantly, afraid to find out that this was just another case of wishful thinking, when across the expanse of sand, he saw Dean. Stumbling to his feet, his dire haste making him clumsy, Sam staggered toward this new torturous illusion. He didn’t care. An illusion of Dean was better than nothing, he would take it and relish it for however long it lasted. But when his running brought him close enough he could feel Dean, hope washed through him like sunshine after years of midnight.
Dean stumbled when Sam's large body slammed into him, nearly taking them both off their feet. But Sam’s heavy, muscled arms instantly surrounded him, lifting him momentarily off the ground, crushing him in a painfully tight embrace. A good pain. No way Dean would push him away, no way in hell.
Sam leaned back enough to look down into his brothers face, tears streaming from his eyes, “Dean”, he whispered hoarsely, his large hands beginning to run over his brothers back, as if reassuring himself that it truly was Dean, that he was intact and whole, and really standing here.
Dean’s mouth opened and Sam sighed, “Don’t say it, Dean. I know, no chick flick moments, but please, just don’t say it, not this time, just…just let me touch you.” Dean wasn’t sure now what he had intended to say, but it wouldn’t have been anything that would have caused his brother to move away, not even one inch. The feel of Sam’s huge calloused hands on his bare flesh, comforting, stroking, making Dean feel cherished was not something he would jeopardize losing for anything. No one had held Dean like this, had seemed to need to assure themselves of his safety…since when? Ever? Maybe before his mother had been killed, but that was a lifetime ago.
Dean sighed, relishing the contact. No, he had no intention of pushing Sam away. He would suck this in, wallow in every second of it and store it all in his memory to take out and cherish in the thousands of days ahead when it wouldn’t happen again. Sam dropped his head to Dean's shoulder as he continued his stroking, his hands now traveling the length of Dean's arms from his shoulder down to his hands. Quiet sobs still wracking Sam’s body as he did so.
Leaning back just slightly, Sam brought his hot hands up to Dean's shoulders again, and slid them down the front of his body, just inside his ribs. Dean leaned into the caress, his thoughts shifting slightly. When Sam's touch began to ascend back toward his shoulders Dean held his breath, hoping those fingers would skim over his nipples, even a light brush. His need for comfort melding with the overwhelming, soul deep need for Sam that he had felt for so long, but kept so rigidly in check.
Sam's fingers stroked softly over Dean’s nipples, and Dean hoped he didn’t catch the swift intake of breath, or the slight jerk of his chest as it happened.
Sam did notice and his face contorted minutely. ‘Stupid Sam, stupid. Be careful. Don’t push him away, disgust him in the same minute you get him back. Why do you have to try to take too much? Just cherish this moment when he lets you touch him without repercussion or jerking away, mumbling about how girly you are. Just love him, as you always have and don’t let him see the sickness inside your head and your heart.’
Sam's eyes flickered up to Dean’s, to make sure he wasn’t repulsed, and Dean’s own fluttered halfway open and Sam released his breath on a long sigh when he saw only acceptance, and…need?
Dean had never seemed to need anyone or anything. He was an island, a rock, never wavering and never appearing weak. But Dean leaned into Sam, his eyes shifting away as if in embarrassment or shame. But he was definitely silently asking for more, or at least his body was.
Sam thought he must need this, must need comforting, and reassurance, like anyone. He just never asked for it. Yes, that was it, for he surely didn’t need anything sexual, he got that in spades. In pretty much every town they stopped in, or so it seemed to Sam as he sat in motel room after motel room, nauseated, yearning and hurting and waiting for his big brother to stagger in, drunk and sated from yet another nameless girl.
As long as Dean was allowing his touch, he would not release the sick freak inside himself. He would give the comfort Dean needed and never requested, and that would be enough. It was so much more than he had ever gotten or expected from Dean, and he intended to cherish it, memorize every moment and store them away.
"Don’t stop, Sammy. Please touch me." Dean’s rough voice was barely a whisper, but Sam was close enough to feel the breath on his chest, raising goosebumps where it brushed his skin. Sam looked at Dean, his eyes full of yearning, thankful Dean didn’t raise his gaze to find the need laid bare there.
He placed his hands along Dean's sides, just under his armpits and stroked downward, his fingers pressing deeper this time, digging into the muscle, then rasping over each rib as if counting them, his touch getting lighter as it approached Dean's waist. Then, as if of their own volition, his fingertips, feather light, traced the muscles from Dean's waist that ran inward above his jutting hipbones, toward his groin. Dean moaned and Sam jerked his hands away, uncertainty filling the look he raised to Dean's eyes.
Dean inwardly cursed himself. ‘Damnit, how had that escaped?' Maybe he could write it off as pain, say something was wrong. He was glad he had diverted Sam’s attention from that area anyway, really, since that last touch had brought him from the semi hardness he had immediately achieved at Sam’s first caress, to full, heavy, aching arousal. Here he was asking for comfort from his brother, and he risked seeing disgust if Sam noticed he was rock hard from it. "Just sore, sorry Sam, didn’t mean to scare you."
But Sam was on the edge. He was pretty sure it didn’t matter anymore why he had groaned like that, he only knew that the sound escaping Dean's lips had taken him from excited to throbbing hardness. He wasn’t sure he could stand it any more. He couldn’t stop touching while Dean would allow it, yet he knew he was on the edge of pushing into that realm that would repulse his brother and ruin everything between them.
Maybe not.
Maybe Dean, his Dean, who had loved him through all the messed up bullshit of their lives, would be able to write it off, to love Sam anyway, if he knew. He had seen all of the weakness in Sam’s life, had taken it all in stride, and had still come back, had still taken care of him, all of his life.
Sam's breath came out on a half moan half sigh, as he leaned forward just slightly, and laid his open mouth on the tanned, sweat misted skin just below Dean's shoulder blade. Dean jerked as if burned but didn’t pull away, his breath catching and holding as he waited, unsure what to think of what was happening, afraid to question, let alone hope.
They stayed that way for several long, heavy moments before Sam's tongue flicked out to brush so lightly it merely disturbed the baby fine hair on Dean's skin.
But Dean was so tuned in, so aware of every minute detail that he felt it. He stood immobile, afraid to even breathe, unwilling to move for fear that Sam would take it away, laugh it off like it was a joke, or just a mistake.
He didn’t know what it meant, that soft brush of Sam's tongue, he only knew he wanted to feel it again, it and so very very much more. So he stood, hoping against hope that it meant what he wanted it to.
But Sam pulled back and slowly raised his gaze to his older brother’s, his fingers shifting just slightly from where they rested ever so lightly at Dean's abdomen to skim just under the low slung waistband of his briefs. Dean sucked in a breath, wondering if Sam realized where those fingers were, and how just how achingly close they were to his raging arousal.
He wanted to shift, to move enough so that Sam's fingers would brush his cock, needed to feel his hands on him there so badly, had needed it for so long. But fear rode him hard and he clenched his jaw tight, and waited, unaware he held his breath.
‘Dean?" Sam's voice was soft, almost sounding like the hesitant teenager he used to be. But his eyes burned, begging for…something. Dean let out a long, weary sigh and thought ‘to hell with it’ and leaned his head up toward Sam’s, stopping just a hair away from touching their lips together. The last tiny movement would have to be Sam’s. Dean needed to know that he was aware of what was being asked. He did, love rushing through him almost as strong as fear. He moved that extra millimeter, brushing his lips against Dean's, feather-light, just barely brushing.
“God, Sammy,” Dean groaned, as his control shattered, grabbing the back of his brothers head, pulling him into a kiss that was urgent, almost painful in its intensity, fingers clenching in his brother‘s silky hair. Teeth clashed, then tongues melded, searching, demanding, needing and begging for what they had both desperately wanted for so long and somehow knew they would never have.
Years of frustration and thwarted desire fueled that kiss, Sam slanted his head to get closer, to feel more, despite the pull of Dean‘s fingers in his hair, holding him tight, clasping and unclasping at his neck.
Damn, the taste of Sam: hot and sweet and rich, and all Sam, innocent and sensual all at once. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get deep enough. Dean held his head, still so afraid Sam was going to freak out and pull away, yelling about what a freak of nature Dean was and what was he thinking?! Run away, leave him again, and God, but he didn’t think he could live with that.
But Sam didn’t try to pull away, instead pushing his hips into Dean's and they both gasped at the feel of their hard heavy cocks brushing together for the first time. Even through layers of cotton and denim it was scorching and gut wrenching.
Finally. Finally.
They ground against each other frantically as they kissed, no devoured, each others mouths, hands roaming over backs. Sam’s hands skimming over taut muscle and sweat slick skin, until Dean pulled his head back slightly. Sam tried to follow, to keep the kiss intact.
Dean smiled that half smile that made Sam's insides clench and twist, "I just want to feel you, Sammy. I need to feel your skin. God I need to feel your skin." his hand went to the side of Sam's waist, ducking under the soft faded t shirt, a sigh escaping as he finally experienced that soft skin over hard muscle that had taunted and teased him for so long.
All those mornings when Sam would walk in the kitchen, bleary eyed and rubbing his exposed stomach, or reach for something, exposing a sweet strip of honey colored skin just above his jeans, or God, the times when he came out of the shower, just a low slung towel covering his hips, drops of water slipping over long lean muscle. Dean’s eyes had feasted on him every damn time, his tongue running unconsciously over his lips, imagining the feel, the taste, of Sam.
Skimming his fingers over skin, he pulled the shirt over Sam’s head, dropping it to the ground.
“Dean.” Sam moaned as Dean’s hands began brushing over his torso, softly, then digging into muscle, caressing every inch of finally exposed flesh. Sam cried out when fingers brushed over his nipples, then settled to pluck and twist lightly, his eyes drifting shut in erotic pleasure. Dean ducked his head, his mouth replacing his fingers to nip and suck at Sam’s hardened nipple. Sam’s hands clenched almost painfully in the muscles of Dean's hips as he ground against him, needing more, wanting everything he had dreamed of for so long.
“Dean. Please Dean, I need…" he breathed out heavily, his voice hoarse, "please."
"What Sammy," Dean was on fire and he felt that his heart was going to explode from his chest.
Sam wanted him? Needed him even a fraction of the way his big brother had been dreaming of having him? He was terrified he was going to wake up to yet another nasty motel room with his brother sleeping so close and yet a million miles away. How many nights had he listened to Sam sleep? Turned his head to stare at him as he jacked off, biting his lip in an attempt to keep from moaning Sam's name? How many nights had he awoken to hear Sam jerking off, wondering who and what he was wishing for, yearning to cross that few feet and brush Sam's hands away, replace them with his own hands, or better yet, his mouth, his body? Too many to count. Now he just prayed that this wasn’t a dream, or if it was, that he wouldn’t wake up, ever.
“What do you need, Sammy?" Dean rasped against his ear.
Funny how much Sam had always hated that nickname, wanted to punch his brother every time he said it. Now he reveled in it, knew that it was his brother’s name for him, a connection that they, and only they, shared. “Tell me, and its yours, Sam. Just tell me."
"I need to feel all of you, I want to taste you, to explore you. I want so much, but I know I won’t last. I feel like I'm going to explode, shatter in a million pieces. I want it all, and I…I'm terrified that you will leave me if you know how much I want, the sickness inside of me for you." Sam hung his head, afraid to meet his brothers gaze, afraid to see rejection or God forbid, repulsion in his beautiful hazel eyes.
Dean's hand rested along the side of Sam's face, his thumb hooking along his jaw line, pushing his head up to look into his eyes. "Sam. I'm not going anywhere. I didn’t leave you this time, I was forced. You know that.”
Dean leaned in, running his open mouth and teeth over the sharp edge of Sam’s jaw line, drawing a soft keening sound from the back of Sam’s throat, pulling back to look at him again, he continued, “You are the one who was able to walk away from me. Do you know the fear I feel everyday? Some nights I'm afraid to fall asleep, afraid that I will wake up and you will be gone. You walked away so easily, leaving me…" a small hitch in his voice betrayed the depth of his agony, and Sam melted against him, into him.
"I'm sorry Dean. It was all just too much. I wanted you, burned for you, and thought you would hate me for how I wanted you. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I needed to get away, to try to feel human again, not just an extension of you, a leech sucking the life out of you and wanting what I could never have. But, we‘re both here, and I won’t lose you again. Just try to get rid of me…" he huffed out a laugh, but it dissolved into a tiny sob. "You are the only thing I have in this world. The only thing I want or need, if you love me half as much as I love you."
Dean's thumb stroked along Sam’s cheekbone, tracing the soft skin and jutting bone, "God, you are so beautiful Sam…you have no idea how much I need you. I wasn’t able to walk away. How could I think you are wrong, when I have wanted you, like some stupid fucking girl in high school, for so long. The difference was, I was willing to take whatever piece of you I could have, pretend for as long as necessary that I just loved you like a brother. Better that than nothing. I was so empty when you were gone, Sam."
"Sammy." Sam said softly.
"Huh?" Dean cocked his head slightly, watching Sam with a crease between his brows.
"I want you to call me Sammy. I'm your Sammy, always have been."
The happiness that spread over Dean’s beautiful face was like watching the sun rise to Sam, and he marveled that it didn’t hurt his eyes.
“Mine. My Sammy. Mine.” He leaned forward, burying his open mouth at the juncture of his little brother’s neck and shoulder, sucking and licking that gorgeous golden skin, unable to pull in enough of the taste.
Sam’s deep moan only caused Dean to suck harder, to mark Sam, brand him as his own. He knew that no matter what tomorrow brought, he would be able to look at his brother and see his mark there, know his mouth had created that deep bruise. And the rest of the world would see it too, and that brought a gut deep satisfaction to Dean.
Sam dropped his head to the side, wanting to give Dean as much access to as much of him as he would take. He felt his stomach clench at the thought of that bruise, that proof that this was real, it had really happened.
Tracing his tongue up the side of his little brother's neck to again capture his mouth, Dean drank in the flavor of Sam, the delicious essence of this being that had always been the center of his world. Sammy, his little brother, his to protect and teach and guide and love. So much, so many ways he loved his little brother, and this was just the incredible culmination of all those years of want, of secret need.
Skimming his fingertips down the slightly sweat covered muscle of Sam’s back, Dean brought his fingers around to the top of Sam’s jeans, glancing up to try to read what his eyes said. “Are you sure, Sammy? Is this really what you want? Please be sure.”
Sam gulped in a huge, unsteady breath and held it, exhaling after a few long seconds with a breathy. “You. I know…I’m sure, please Dean, just…please.” His hips hitching forward involuntarily.
Dean’s fingers were slightly shaky as he undid the button of Sam’s jeans, then slowly drug the zipper down over his massive, hot cock, then, placing both hands on the outside of his baby brother’s hips, he thrust both denim and the boxers underneath down to his smooth, lean thighs.
His mouth watered as his eyes took in the beautiful length of Sam’s dick, already moist with pre-come. He had known Sam was proportionate, he had seen him in his underwear plenty of times, but hard…well, hard Sam was bigger than Dean, and he had always been proud of what he was packing.
He traced one long digit over the head, gathering the slick liquid and bringing it to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste, then linger over the salty, delicious flavor. “Mmmmm.” he moaned quietly, “I’ve wondered so many times what you would taste like, Sammy.”
Sam clenched his teeth to keep from spilling, from totally losing all control at the sight of Dean licking his come off that finger. “Oh…God, Dean…”
“You wanna know what it tastes like to me, Sammy?” Dean’s eyes held Sam’s unflinchingly. “Tastes like you belong to me.” And belonging to him, though that was more than Dean was ready to admit to.
Sam’s hands dropped to frantically open Dean’s jeans as well, to finally get to see and feel the dick he had dreamed of since he was old enough to want, to know what it meant to desire. With the first touch, he sighed, breath blowing out as he wallowed in the sensation.
At the feel of Sam’s hand wrapping around his engorged length and pulling him from his jeans, Dean let out a groan and his eyes dropped closed, his fingers involuntarily gripping Sam tighter, bringing a moan to his younger brother’s lips as well.
“Dean, I’m sorry, but I’m…ahhhh…I’m so close, I’m not gonna last,” Sam gritted out.
Bringing their cocks together, both brothers moaned deep. Finally.
Dean gripped and stroked them, rubbing them against each other, both of their hips jerking, frantic with their long pent up need. “Yes, Sammy, let go. Come for me, baby. Let me see how much you want me. Come.”
And Sam did, gasping and clenching his fingers hard into his big brother’s hips as his head started to drop back, only to be snapped back at Dean’s deep voice, “Look at me, I wanna see you…”
“Deeeean, God Dean, yesss…” Sam groaned, body jerking and twitching, as he stared into his brothers beautiful green eyes.
“Now you, Dean, please, give it to me. Say my name, Dean, say it.” Wrapping his own larger hand over his brothers, he stroked just three more times before Dean’s come spilled over their fingers and bellies to mix with his own, Sam’s name like a benediction on his lips.
chap 2
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