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gilascaveTitle: Heart's Desire IV: Where I Lay My Head is Home
Sequel to: Heart's Desire III: I Wanna Drive It All Night Long
Authors: Wolfling![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wolfling and James zortified
Pairing: Sam/Dean (Wincest)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 29,000 (story total)
Warnings: sex. angst. the usual.
Spoilers: Woman in White
Summary: Home is where the heart is.
Authors' Notes: Many thanks again towesleysgirl for awesome beta even if we did use 'towards.' And, bwahahaha! You had to put commas back in!
This is the fourth story in the Heart's Desire series. This story will be posted in parts, one part per day. This is the second part.
Continued from part one
part two
Dean drove back to the motel as Sam spoke with Mrs. Froson. She'd seemed a bit surprised to hear from them so quickly, but agreed to start the paperwork right away. Dean overheard her mention a credit check, which seemed to worry Sam for a moment. Dean didn't have a chance to remind him that 'Sam Winchester' had no credit history at all, and the only credit history 'Dean Watkins' had was buying gasoline and motel rooms on a trip to Palo Alto.
They made an appointment to visit on the following Monday, then it seemed that all was said and done -- except for Dean mumbling under his breath about his tacos.
Sam was quiet the rest of the drive back, silently watching out the window as they drove. He seemed... not distant, but... contained. As if he were sinking into himself.
Dean couldn't decide if that was a good sign, or just Sam dealing with things they way he usually did -- thinking too much. He debated what he should do, until they were not far from the motel. Then he glanced over, and saw the set of Sam's jaw and the way he was simply looking straight ahead. "Sammy? You ok?" he asked, testing Sam's mood.
Sam nodded, but didn't actually speak.
Well, that left either jostle him out of his thoughts, or leave him to them. Dean wasn't sure which was better, but given what Sam would be brooding over, he figured maybe it was better to distract him.
"You've never had a fish taco, have you?"
It worked. Sam turned to look at him with a startled, "What?"
"I figure, you can't have had one, or you'd realise how good they are." Dean kept his tone earnest, like thinking about lunch had occupied him the entire drive back.
"Dean, I don't want a fish taco."
The look Sam was giving him was 'Dean, you're insane' -- which meant his distraction had worked. Except for the fact Dean was really starting to get hungry now, and he hadn't seen another Del Taco since the one back at the strip mall.
"Which proves you've never had one," he said, reasonably.
"Or it proves I have taste," Sam shot back, beginning to sound a little exasperated, which, really, was better than the alternative.
"You do taste good," Dean allowed, and was extremely glad he was pulling into the parking spot in front of their motel room. "But you also have no culture. Dude, fish tacos. Fish tacos."
Sam leaned over and whispered in Dean's ear, "If you want to have sex when we get inside, you'll shut up about the fish tacos."
The words -- and maybe the voice itself -- went straight to Dean's cock. But he pretended to think it over. He shut off the engine but stayed behind the wheel, mouthing 'fish tacos' and 'sex' as though weighing the benefits of each.
Sighing, Sam rolled his eyes and opened the car door. "I'll be inside when you make up your mind," he said, getting out.
"Yeah, ok," Dean said absently, staying where he was as Sam got out of the car. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, though the thought of waiting until Sam was inside, maybe even on the bed and naked....
Well, it wasn't like he didn't know he was choosing 'sex' over lunch. But he had to at least keep up the act for a little while. Pissing his brother off was fun, even without the sex.
He watched while Sam unlocked and opened the room door, and stepped inside. Chances were Sam wouldn't actually strip down. Chances were better that Sam wouldn't actually wait for him. If he took too long, Sam would get engrossed in something like rereading the Stanford campus directory.
Dean reached down and turned the ignition key.
His cell phone rang.
A glance at the screen told him what he already knew. He flipped the phone open. "Did you want me to get you something?" He was hoping Sam would tell him he was half-naked, to entice Dean inside.
"What I want," Sam's voice growled in his ear, "is for you to get your ass in here and fuck me."
There really wasn't anything to say to that, so Dean snapped the phone shut, turned off the engine, and bruised his knee trying to get out of the car and to the motel room.
He got to the door, tried to figure out where the hell he'd left his room key, then realised Sam had left the door cracked open and offered a silent thanks for brothers who were smarter than him. The second he stepped inside, he was grabbed and pushed up against the door as it closed, then had Sam's tongue down his throat. He didn't try to fight Sam off -- he wasn't stupid, for god's sake. He did try to drop his keys someplace he could find them later, and maybe try to shift so the doorknob wasn't poking him in the side.
Mostly he just stood there and hung on as Sam devoured him from the inside out. Sam was almost frantic, grinding against him, hands moving restlessly over Dean's body. He was making small desperate whimpering sounds as he ravaged Dean's mouth that spoke of a need that went straight to Dean's cock.
He'd only had his brother like this a few times -- and as Dean realised what the common denominator was, he reached up and held Sam's face, and began kissing him hard. Taking control, or at least asking for it, since really what this was about was whatever Sam wanted.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what Sam was trying so hard not to think about. Sam moaned against Dean's lips and his hands finally stopped moving, latching onto the front of Dean's shirt tightly, willingly giving up control as Dean showed that he was inclined to take it.
Dean pushed them away from the door, and walked them backwards towards the bed. He pulled at Sam's shirt as he did, tugging it up towards Sam's shoulder and caressing Sam's chest and back as he went. He got his hands on Sam's sides, then, when they hit the edge of the bed, he lifted Sam up to toss him onto the mattress.
Sam bounced when he landed, long limbs sprawled. He looked up at Dean with eyes dark with arousal and need, shirt still hiked up, jeans not doing anything to hide how hard he was.
"Jesus," Dean breathed, looking at Sam, seeing the way Sam was looking back. For a moment it seemed surreal -- despite the three months they'd been lovers, Dean wondered how the hell he had ever finally managed to get to this place.
He yanked off his jacket and shirt, deciding that thinking about it was definitely the worst of two evils. Kicking off his shoes, Dean fumbled for his zipper, unable to stop looking at the way Sam was watching him strip. Sam was propped up on one elbow, the other hand gripping himself through his jeans, staring at him through half lidded eyes.
"You wanna get those off," Dean told him, not sure he could wait long enough to pull Sam's jeans off for him -- even though undressing Sam was one of the best parts about having sex with him. The slow, sensual sex was one of Dean's favorites, although he would probably never admit it out loud.
Right now he was pretty sure Sam wanted it fast and hard and wild; he'd asked Dean to fuck him.
Dean pulled his underwear off, and walked over to the bed, naked and already hard at the sight of his brother. He watched as Sam undid his jeans, then lifted his hips to push them and his underwear down, wriggling until they were far enough that he could kick them the rest of the way off.
Standing where he was, Dean took a moment to just look. Sam, spread out, leaning back on his elbows. His cock was hard, and Dean wanted to crawl up and swallow him whole. He reached down and touched himself, running his hand down his own length, smirking at the way Sam's eyes widened.
"Dean." Sam made the name a demand, plea and benediction all at once.
He moved forward, knees on the mattress. Sam shifted his legs to make room, inviting him closer. He should just lean down and suck Sam off -- make him scream in about ten seconds flat. But... Sam had asked Dean to fuck him, and he'd been asking since the day they'd started this.
He had no idea if he was ready. But suddenly it felt like a cop out to just give Sam a blow job or hand job and leave it at that. Half sitting up, Sam reached for him, pulling him down and seeking out his mouth once more. He was still more than eager, but some of the franticness had faded now that they were... involved.
Dean pressed his body against Sam's, loving the feel of it beneath him. He kissed Sam like it was all he wanted to do, ever. He felt Sam tremble, and he rocked his hips forward, rubbing their cocks together. Sam gasped, arching his head back and offering his throat.
He didn't need more invitation; Dean leaned down and put his mouth over Sam's jugular, licking him gently first, then sucking, hard as he could.
Sam's hips bucked in response, his whole body shaking. "D-dean..."
"Yeah, baby," Dean breathed against Sam's collarbone, soaking up the feel of Sam's body. He slid a hand underneath Sam, palm against his back, and pulled him up, rubbing their bodies together as he went back to leaving hickeys on Sam's neck.
Each suck on Sam's throat sent another shiver through his body, until he was trembling and writhing in Dean's arms. "Please, Dean," he gasped.
Dean reached down and took Sam's cock in his hand, pulling at him in a move that was already as familiar as jerking his own. Dean ducked his head down, feeling a stab of guilt -- he didn't know if this would be enough, but he didn't think it would help if he tried to do more and couldn't follow through. Not that having his own freak out wouldn't distract Sam just as much, but actually having sex would at least be more fun.
He kissed Sam, hard, trying to apologise. Sam whimpered against his mouth as he tried to get closer.
Dean began moving his hand faster, dispensing with formalities and getting on with the business of making Sam come. He let Sam kiss him, keeping his mouth where Sam could do anything he liked with it, while he concentrated on jerking his brother off. Sam held onto him, shaking and panting, moving desperately against Dean, obviously on the edge, but just as obviously trying to hold back.
He actually debated what he should do. His hand slowed, and he knew -- Sam probably wouldn't ask. He'd asked a hundred times and Dean kept saying no. How long could he expect Sam to keep asking?
Dean moved his other hand down, still grasping Sam's cock but not really jerking him off, yet. With his other hand, he cupped Sam's ass, squeezing the cheek hard, and... thought about it.
Sam touched his cheek and Dean looked down into eyes that were dark and full of need. "Please," Sam whispered.
"I--" Christ. It wasn't like he didn't want to. Pull Sam's legs up and bury himself balls deep. Pound his cock into Sam... Dean shivered and wondered why the hell he didn't.
It wasn't like he could just do it. Not Sam's first time. But he didn't know if he could make himself take the time, now, to do it right. Wasn't sure if Sam could hold out for it either, which left the question -- did he just use his fingers, almost but not what he wanted?
Or-- "Why don't you fuck me?" he asked, voice raspy with arousal and not a little bit of trepidation. His reasons for not fucking Sam were the same as his reasons for never letting Sam fuck him.
Maybe those reasons didn't make as much sense as he thought they did.
The question stilled Sam entirely. He shifted, lifting his head to really look at Dean's face. "Are you sure?"
He shrugged. He hadn't been fucked in awhile -- since a couple months before he and Sam got together. But it was recent enough he knew they could without hurting him. That made it a hell of a lot better than giving in to the desire to fuck Sam, hard and wild and making him scream Dean's name...
Dean swallowed. "Yeah, if... you know. You want. More." He rubbed the palm of his hand over Sam's cock, letting him know what he meant.
Sam's eyes fluttered shut briefly at Dean's touch, but it didn't seem to distract him from the conversation. "You're not exactly projecting confidence, here."
"Huh?" Dean stopped moving his hand, and -- "Oh." Brilliant, Dean, he told himself. He smiled, then rested his head on Sam's chest and laughed, once. "Don't mean to sound so enthusiastic," he said sarcastically, laughing at himself. "I do... I just...." The amusement dimmed and he realised he might have to try to say what he was feeling.
The alternative was to let Sam think he didn't want this, and he had done enough of that over the summer.
He gave Sam a kiss, keeping it brief but hopefully heartfelt. "It's just... crap. This is gonna sound stupid so I'm only going to say it once, okay? I don't wanna fuck you here. Not... like this. Not when it's about something else, and... I want to be home, not in some crappy motel," he said, realising what else he was feeling only as he spoke.
The image of fucking Sam here -- while nice -- made him think of all the motel rooms he'd ever been in. They'd grown up in motels, and they reminded him of work and hunts and dad, and of all the times a motel room had meant whatever happens tonight will be forgotten once you leave.
He didn't want Sam to leave.
"I want to do it right," he whispered. "And if you ever tell anyone what a fucking pussy I sound like, I will kill you and stuff you in the trunk and make your ghost help me with the fucking hunts."
He took a deep breath, and said quickly, "So I'm sorry to make you keep waiting for me, but if you want something to...." Fuck, he was going to have to say it, remind Sam when the whole point was to forget. "Take your mind off stuff then I've been fucked before, we can do it without hurting me. It's no big deal."
Sam stared at him long enough for Dean to start to get nervous. Then he pushed at Dean's shoulder, tangling their legs together to get enough leverage to roll them over. Once he had Dean on his back beneath him, he leaned down and kissed him gently. "It is a big deal," he murmured against Dean's lips, before abandoning them and sliding down to take Dean's cock in his mouth.
Dean thought about trying to ask Sam what the hell he meant, but then his cock was over-riding any and all messages from his brain. He clutched at the blankets and thought that his little brother had certainly learned how to give a blow job.
Not that all his practise hadn't been on Dean. But still -- he'd really picked it up. Dean shifted his feet, pushing them flat against the mattress. He had no idea if they had anything for lube other than whatever was in the bathroom, but whatever was there would probably do.
He reached down and patted Sam's shoulder, trying to get his attention because he'd rather stop now to get prepared, than later. Sam ignored him, except to try and swallow him whole.
"Mrufug," Dean said, and gave up. Sam could suck him off, then fuck him. Dean wouldn't argue. Sam knew all of Dean's buttons and exactly how to push them and seemed to be taking this chance to demonstrate that fact. Dean writhed on the bed, happy to let Sam suck his entire being out through his cock. Arching his back, Dean tried not to slam his cock forward, but everything in him wanted to fuck, hard. He screamed again, hanging onto the comforter and shoving his head back, as he finally came.
Sam didn't let go of Dean's cock until Dean was completely wrung out. Then he slid back up Dean's body and kissed him, his hips pushing against him almost frantically. Dean kissed him back, holding onto Sam as much as he could when the only part of his body he seemed capable of moving was his mouth. But he nodded, and tried to look around for where the hell his duffel bag had ended up. "I've got--" he said, breaking away from the kiss for a second.
Sam cut him off by sticking his tongue down his throat. Dean left him to it for a couple seconds, then felt the way Sam was pushing against him. He pushed Sam back a little. "Sam, you gotta.. if you want to do this we need some stuff from my bag."
Sam shook his head. "This is good," he said breathlessly, a hitch in his voice showing how close he was.
"I thought you wanted--" and Dean stopped, because even if Sam did want to fuck him, it was too late to start now. He hung onto his brother's hips, pulling him close and holding him in place. It didn't take long before Sam was burying his face against Dean's neck and shuddering as he came.
Dean held Sam as he collapsed, rubbing his hands up and down his brother's back. He kissed him on the cheek, and said, "You're supposed to get it in me before you do that."
Sam chuckled, but didn't raise his head. "It can wait."
"Clearly it couldn't," Dean returned, wriggling his hips a little to nudge Sam's cock.
Now Sam did look up, catching and holding Dean's gaze. "It can wait," he repeated seriously. "Until... it is a big deal."
Dean frowned at him, then just said, "Yeah, ok. I... yeah, I get it." He nodded and gave Sam a kiss, thinking that he could have no sex at all except this and life would be pretty damned good. "Guess your firsts should all be nice ones." He grinned, and figured it was all right if he got a little soft in the head. Sex with Sam tended to have that effect on him.
"And you keep saying I'm the girl."
Dean reached up and brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes. Then he just raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, so we're both girls."
"I am not a girl," Dean said firmly. "Have you seen the car I drive?"
Sam rolled over until he was lying beside him on his back and stretched. He didn't answer.
Dean poked him in the ribs. "I wanna talk about your feelings," he said, managing to keep his face straight. "And you never call when you say you will."
"Dickwad," Sam said clearly.
"Your accent sucks," Dean told him.
Sam held up one hand. With one finger.
"Huh." Dean kept watching Sam, amused that for a change Sam's post-orgasmic bliss didn't involve talking. He wanted to make sure Sam wasn't brooding already, but so far he seemed just quiet, but relaxed. Rather like how Dean himself felt.
He tried to figure out if there was a good way to make Sam yelp and leap off the bed, but the ice machine was down the hall and he didn't feel like getting up. Dean rolled onto his side, towards Sam, and put his arm across Sam's chest. He grinned, thinking that if he could get his brother annoyed enough to start a pillow fight, then he could call the afternoon a success. He closed his eyes to consider his options.
He felt Sam's hand come up to rest on the back of his neck, fingers stroking lightly.
It didn't take long for him to fall fast asleep.
~~~
end part two
on to part three
Sequel to: Heart's Desire III: I Wanna Drive It All Night Long
Authors: Wolfling
wolfling and James zortifiedPairing: Sam/Dean (Wincest)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 29,000 (story total)
Warnings: sex. angst. the usual.
Spoilers: Woman in White
Summary: Home is where the heart is.
Authors' Notes: Many thanks again to
wesleysgirl for awesome beta even if we did use 'towards.' And, bwahahaha! You had to put commas back in! This is the fourth story in the Heart's Desire series. This story will be posted in parts, one part per day. This is the second part.
Continued from part one
part two
Dean drove back to the motel as Sam spoke with Mrs. Froson. She'd seemed a bit surprised to hear from them so quickly, but agreed to start the paperwork right away. Dean overheard her mention a credit check, which seemed to worry Sam for a moment. Dean didn't have a chance to remind him that 'Sam Winchester' had no credit history at all, and the only credit history 'Dean Watkins' had was buying gasoline and motel rooms on a trip to Palo Alto.
They made an appointment to visit on the following Monday, then it seemed that all was said and done -- except for Dean mumbling under his breath about his tacos.
Sam was quiet the rest of the drive back, silently watching out the window as they drove. He seemed... not distant, but... contained. As if he were sinking into himself.
Dean couldn't decide if that was a good sign, or just Sam dealing with things they way he usually did -- thinking too much. He debated what he should do, until they were not far from the motel. Then he glanced over, and saw the set of Sam's jaw and the way he was simply looking straight ahead. "Sammy? You ok?" he asked, testing Sam's mood.
Sam nodded, but didn't actually speak.
Well, that left either jostle him out of his thoughts, or leave him to them. Dean wasn't sure which was better, but given what Sam would be brooding over, he figured maybe it was better to distract him.
"You've never had a fish taco, have you?"
It worked. Sam turned to look at him with a startled, "What?"
"I figure, you can't have had one, or you'd realise how good they are." Dean kept his tone earnest, like thinking about lunch had occupied him the entire drive back.
"Dean, I don't want a fish taco."
The look Sam was giving him was 'Dean, you're insane' -- which meant his distraction had worked. Except for the fact Dean was really starting to get hungry now, and he hadn't seen another Del Taco since the one back at the strip mall.
"Which proves you've never had one," he said, reasonably.
"Or it proves I have taste," Sam shot back, beginning to sound a little exasperated, which, really, was better than the alternative.
"You do taste good," Dean allowed, and was extremely glad he was pulling into the parking spot in front of their motel room. "But you also have no culture. Dude, fish tacos. Fish tacos."
Sam leaned over and whispered in Dean's ear, "If you want to have sex when we get inside, you'll shut up about the fish tacos."
The words -- and maybe the voice itself -- went straight to Dean's cock. But he pretended to think it over. He shut off the engine but stayed behind the wheel, mouthing 'fish tacos' and 'sex' as though weighing the benefits of each.
Sighing, Sam rolled his eyes and opened the car door. "I'll be inside when you make up your mind," he said, getting out.
"Yeah, ok," Dean said absently, staying where he was as Sam got out of the car. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, though the thought of waiting until Sam was inside, maybe even on the bed and naked....
Well, it wasn't like he didn't know he was choosing 'sex' over lunch. But he had to at least keep up the act for a little while. Pissing his brother off was fun, even without the sex.
He watched while Sam unlocked and opened the room door, and stepped inside. Chances were Sam wouldn't actually strip down. Chances were better that Sam wouldn't actually wait for him. If he took too long, Sam would get engrossed in something like rereading the Stanford campus directory.
Dean reached down and turned the ignition key.
His cell phone rang.
A glance at the screen told him what he already knew. He flipped the phone open. "Did you want me to get you something?" He was hoping Sam would tell him he was half-naked, to entice Dean inside.
"What I want," Sam's voice growled in his ear, "is for you to get your ass in here and fuck me."
There really wasn't anything to say to that, so Dean snapped the phone shut, turned off the engine, and bruised his knee trying to get out of the car and to the motel room.
He got to the door, tried to figure out where the hell he'd left his room key, then realised Sam had left the door cracked open and offered a silent thanks for brothers who were smarter than him. The second he stepped inside, he was grabbed and pushed up against the door as it closed, then had Sam's tongue down his throat. He didn't try to fight Sam off -- he wasn't stupid, for god's sake. He did try to drop his keys someplace he could find them later, and maybe try to shift so the doorknob wasn't poking him in the side.
Mostly he just stood there and hung on as Sam devoured him from the inside out. Sam was almost frantic, grinding against him, hands moving restlessly over Dean's body. He was making small desperate whimpering sounds as he ravaged Dean's mouth that spoke of a need that went straight to Dean's cock.
He'd only had his brother like this a few times -- and as Dean realised what the common denominator was, he reached up and held Sam's face, and began kissing him hard. Taking control, or at least asking for it, since really what this was about was whatever Sam wanted.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what Sam was trying so hard not to think about. Sam moaned against Dean's lips and his hands finally stopped moving, latching onto the front of Dean's shirt tightly, willingly giving up control as Dean showed that he was inclined to take it.
Dean pushed them away from the door, and walked them backwards towards the bed. He pulled at Sam's shirt as he did, tugging it up towards Sam's shoulder and caressing Sam's chest and back as he went. He got his hands on Sam's sides, then, when they hit the edge of the bed, he lifted Sam up to toss him onto the mattress.
Sam bounced when he landed, long limbs sprawled. He looked up at Dean with eyes dark with arousal and need, shirt still hiked up, jeans not doing anything to hide how hard he was.
"Jesus," Dean breathed, looking at Sam, seeing the way Sam was looking back. For a moment it seemed surreal -- despite the three months they'd been lovers, Dean wondered how the hell he had ever finally managed to get to this place.
He yanked off his jacket and shirt, deciding that thinking about it was definitely the worst of two evils. Kicking off his shoes, Dean fumbled for his zipper, unable to stop looking at the way Sam was watching him strip. Sam was propped up on one elbow, the other hand gripping himself through his jeans, staring at him through half lidded eyes.
"You wanna get those off," Dean told him, not sure he could wait long enough to pull Sam's jeans off for him -- even though undressing Sam was one of the best parts about having sex with him. The slow, sensual sex was one of Dean's favorites, although he would probably never admit it out loud.
Right now he was pretty sure Sam wanted it fast and hard and wild; he'd asked Dean to fuck him.
Dean pulled his underwear off, and walked over to the bed, naked and already hard at the sight of his brother. He watched as Sam undid his jeans, then lifted his hips to push them and his underwear down, wriggling until they were far enough that he could kick them the rest of the way off.
Standing where he was, Dean took a moment to just look. Sam, spread out, leaning back on his elbows. His cock was hard, and Dean wanted to crawl up and swallow him whole. He reached down and touched himself, running his hand down his own length, smirking at the way Sam's eyes widened.
"Dean." Sam made the name a demand, plea and benediction all at once.
He moved forward, knees on the mattress. Sam shifted his legs to make room, inviting him closer. He should just lean down and suck Sam off -- make him scream in about ten seconds flat. But... Sam had asked Dean to fuck him, and he'd been asking since the day they'd started this.
He had no idea if he was ready. But suddenly it felt like a cop out to just give Sam a blow job or hand job and leave it at that. Half sitting up, Sam reached for him, pulling him down and seeking out his mouth once more. He was still more than eager, but some of the franticness had faded now that they were... involved.
Dean pressed his body against Sam's, loving the feel of it beneath him. He kissed Sam like it was all he wanted to do, ever. He felt Sam tremble, and he rocked his hips forward, rubbing their cocks together. Sam gasped, arching his head back and offering his throat.
He didn't need more invitation; Dean leaned down and put his mouth over Sam's jugular, licking him gently first, then sucking, hard as he could.
Sam's hips bucked in response, his whole body shaking. "D-dean..."
"Yeah, baby," Dean breathed against Sam's collarbone, soaking up the feel of Sam's body. He slid a hand underneath Sam, palm against his back, and pulled him up, rubbing their bodies together as he went back to leaving hickeys on Sam's neck.
Each suck on Sam's throat sent another shiver through his body, until he was trembling and writhing in Dean's arms. "Please, Dean," he gasped.
Dean reached down and took Sam's cock in his hand, pulling at him in a move that was already as familiar as jerking his own. Dean ducked his head down, feeling a stab of guilt -- he didn't know if this would be enough, but he didn't think it would help if he tried to do more and couldn't follow through. Not that having his own freak out wouldn't distract Sam just as much, but actually having sex would at least be more fun.
He kissed Sam, hard, trying to apologise. Sam whimpered against his mouth as he tried to get closer.
Dean began moving his hand faster, dispensing with formalities and getting on with the business of making Sam come. He let Sam kiss him, keeping his mouth where Sam could do anything he liked with it, while he concentrated on jerking his brother off. Sam held onto him, shaking and panting, moving desperately against Dean, obviously on the edge, but just as obviously trying to hold back.
He actually debated what he should do. His hand slowed, and he knew -- Sam probably wouldn't ask. He'd asked a hundred times and Dean kept saying no. How long could he expect Sam to keep asking?
Dean moved his other hand down, still grasping Sam's cock but not really jerking him off, yet. With his other hand, he cupped Sam's ass, squeezing the cheek hard, and... thought about it.
Sam touched his cheek and Dean looked down into eyes that were dark and full of need. "Please," Sam whispered.
"I--" Christ. It wasn't like he didn't want to. Pull Sam's legs up and bury himself balls deep. Pound his cock into Sam... Dean shivered and wondered why the hell he didn't.
It wasn't like he could just do it. Not Sam's first time. But he didn't know if he could make himself take the time, now, to do it right. Wasn't sure if Sam could hold out for it either, which left the question -- did he just use his fingers, almost but not what he wanted?
Or-- "Why don't you fuck me?" he asked, voice raspy with arousal and not a little bit of trepidation. His reasons for not fucking Sam were the same as his reasons for never letting Sam fuck him.
Maybe those reasons didn't make as much sense as he thought they did.
The question stilled Sam entirely. He shifted, lifting his head to really look at Dean's face. "Are you sure?"
He shrugged. He hadn't been fucked in awhile -- since a couple months before he and Sam got together. But it was recent enough he knew they could without hurting him. That made it a hell of a lot better than giving in to the desire to fuck Sam, hard and wild and making him scream Dean's name...
Dean swallowed. "Yeah, if... you know. You want. More." He rubbed the palm of his hand over Sam's cock, letting him know what he meant.
Sam's eyes fluttered shut briefly at Dean's touch, but it didn't seem to distract him from the conversation. "You're not exactly projecting confidence, here."
"Huh?" Dean stopped moving his hand, and -- "Oh." Brilliant, Dean, he told himself. He smiled, then rested his head on Sam's chest and laughed, once. "Don't mean to sound so enthusiastic," he said sarcastically, laughing at himself. "I do... I just...." The amusement dimmed and he realised he might have to try to say what he was feeling.
The alternative was to let Sam think he didn't want this, and he had done enough of that over the summer.
He gave Sam a kiss, keeping it brief but hopefully heartfelt. "It's just... crap. This is gonna sound stupid so I'm only going to say it once, okay? I don't wanna fuck you here. Not... like this. Not when it's about something else, and... I want to be home, not in some crappy motel," he said, realising what else he was feeling only as he spoke.
The image of fucking Sam here -- while nice -- made him think of all the motel rooms he'd ever been in. They'd grown up in motels, and they reminded him of work and hunts and dad, and of all the times a motel room had meant whatever happens tonight will be forgotten once you leave.
He didn't want Sam to leave.
"I want to do it right," he whispered. "And if you ever tell anyone what a fucking pussy I sound like, I will kill you and stuff you in the trunk and make your ghost help me with the fucking hunts."
He took a deep breath, and said quickly, "So I'm sorry to make you keep waiting for me, but if you want something to...." Fuck, he was going to have to say it, remind Sam when the whole point was to forget. "Take your mind off stuff then I've been fucked before, we can do it without hurting me. It's no big deal."
Sam stared at him long enough for Dean to start to get nervous. Then he pushed at Dean's shoulder, tangling their legs together to get enough leverage to roll them over. Once he had Dean on his back beneath him, he leaned down and kissed him gently. "It is a big deal," he murmured against Dean's lips, before abandoning them and sliding down to take Dean's cock in his mouth.
Dean thought about trying to ask Sam what the hell he meant, but then his cock was over-riding any and all messages from his brain. He clutched at the blankets and thought that his little brother had certainly learned how to give a blow job.
Not that all his practise hadn't been on Dean. But still -- he'd really picked it up. Dean shifted his feet, pushing them flat against the mattress. He had no idea if they had anything for lube other than whatever was in the bathroom, but whatever was there would probably do.
He reached down and patted Sam's shoulder, trying to get his attention because he'd rather stop now to get prepared, than later. Sam ignored him, except to try and swallow him whole.
"Mrufug," Dean said, and gave up. Sam could suck him off, then fuck him. Dean wouldn't argue. Sam knew all of Dean's buttons and exactly how to push them and seemed to be taking this chance to demonstrate that fact. Dean writhed on the bed, happy to let Sam suck his entire being out through his cock. Arching his back, Dean tried not to slam his cock forward, but everything in him wanted to fuck, hard. He screamed again, hanging onto the comforter and shoving his head back, as he finally came.
Sam didn't let go of Dean's cock until Dean was completely wrung out. Then he slid back up Dean's body and kissed him, his hips pushing against him almost frantically. Dean kissed him back, holding onto Sam as much as he could when the only part of his body he seemed capable of moving was his mouth. But he nodded, and tried to look around for where the hell his duffel bag had ended up. "I've got--" he said, breaking away from the kiss for a second.
Sam cut him off by sticking his tongue down his throat. Dean left him to it for a couple seconds, then felt the way Sam was pushing against him. He pushed Sam back a little. "Sam, you gotta.. if you want to do this we need some stuff from my bag."
Sam shook his head. "This is good," he said breathlessly, a hitch in his voice showing how close he was.
"I thought you wanted--" and Dean stopped, because even if Sam did want to fuck him, it was too late to start now. He hung onto his brother's hips, pulling him close and holding him in place. It didn't take long before Sam was burying his face against Dean's neck and shuddering as he came.
Dean held Sam as he collapsed, rubbing his hands up and down his brother's back. He kissed him on the cheek, and said, "You're supposed to get it in me before you do that."
Sam chuckled, but didn't raise his head. "It can wait."
"Clearly it couldn't," Dean returned, wriggling his hips a little to nudge Sam's cock.
Now Sam did look up, catching and holding Dean's gaze. "It can wait," he repeated seriously. "Until... it is a big deal."
Dean frowned at him, then just said, "Yeah, ok. I... yeah, I get it." He nodded and gave Sam a kiss, thinking that he could have no sex at all except this and life would be pretty damned good. "Guess your firsts should all be nice ones." He grinned, and figured it was all right if he got a little soft in the head. Sex with Sam tended to have that effect on him.
"And you keep saying I'm the girl."
Dean reached up and brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes. Then he just raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, so we're both girls."
"I am not a girl," Dean said firmly. "Have you seen the car I drive?"
Sam rolled over until he was lying beside him on his back and stretched. He didn't answer.
Dean poked him in the ribs. "I wanna talk about your feelings," he said, managing to keep his face straight. "And you never call when you say you will."
"Dickwad," Sam said clearly.
"Your accent sucks," Dean told him.
Sam held up one hand. With one finger.
"Huh." Dean kept watching Sam, amused that for a change Sam's post-orgasmic bliss didn't involve talking. He wanted to make sure Sam wasn't brooding already, but so far he seemed just quiet, but relaxed. Rather like how Dean himself felt.
He tried to figure out if there was a good way to make Sam yelp and leap off the bed, but the ice machine was down the hall and he didn't feel like getting up. Dean rolled onto his side, towards Sam, and put his arm across Sam's chest. He grinned, thinking that if he could get his brother annoyed enough to start a pillow fight, then he could call the afternoon a success. He closed his eyes to consider his options.
He felt Sam's hand come up to rest on the back of his neck, fingers stroking lightly.
It didn't take long for him to fall fast asleep.
~~~
end part two
on to part three