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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 third part.
continued from part two
part three
Dean stood in the middle of the apartment and looked around. It wasn't the first time he'd signed a lease, wasn't the first time in a long shot he'd signed a name not his own. But it was the first time he'd ever moved into a place expecting that he wouldn't be moving out any time soon.
She'd given them a nine month lease, the standard student contract. They had the option to extend for three months through the summer, and after that... she'd said the word 'yearly' but Dean had stopped processing at that point.
Sam came up behind him, wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and rested his head against Dean's. "You're freaking, aren't you?"
Putting his hands on Sam's arms, Dean held him in place. "No," he said, honestly, though the fact surprised him a little. "I think... I'm not freaking."
Maybe because it was still sinking in, but... this could be home. A place to live, not a place to stay in between hunts.
"You think?" Sam repeated, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice. "Not sure?"
"Give me a couple days," Dean said easily, turning his head and tilting back so he could shoot a grin up at Sam without banging their heads together.
A home, with Sam.
Wow.
Okay, maybe he was freaking a tiny bit.
"I can give you as long as you need," Sam said, his arms tightening their hold on him.
"Great." Dean went back to staring at the walls, letting Sam hold him. The place was really spacious, like Sam had said, though he figured once they got some furniture that feeling would go away pretty fast. Well, maybe not -- what did they need? A bed, a couch, a dresser? A desk for Sam. A lockable cabinet he could store some of his extra weapons in, and some of the books he didn't want to leave in the Impala.
OK, so, they needed to dig up a used furniture place, first thing in the morning. Hit a few garage sales if they could find any, or visit Goodwill and get the stuff they'd need for the kitchen, maybe some more towels, and...
For all the times Dean had done this before, he couldn't seem to quite make his brain stay focused on it.
Home.
Sam chuckled; Dean could feel the vibrations of it deep in his chest. "I can practically hear your brain whirring."
"It's not," he protested, then realised what he'd said. "I mean... Hell. What do you want for dinner? Chinese, pizza, fish tacos?"
"Dude, what is with you and fish tacos?"
He shrugged. "They make you make that face."
"The one where I'm about to ralph all over your shoes?" Dean glanced over his shoulder; yep, there was that face. "I'm not seeing the attraction."
Dean grinned. "Because trying to gross you out is one of the perks of being older." Not that it had been really easy, especially once Sam had started going on hunts. Nothing like having shoes sticky with bodily fluids to make a person stop turning his nose up at a mouth-full of partially chewed food.
"Chinese," Sam said, firmly changing the subject. "I saw a place just around the corner."
"I want sweet and sour pork."
"I know." Sam hugged him a bit tighter for a few seconds then let him go. "I'll go get food, you can stay here and.... not freak some more."
Dean gave him a mild version of the 'are you nuts' look he reserved solely for his brother. "I'm not gonna freak," he said, though he was pretty sure neither of them believed it. He reached back for his wallet as Sam stepped away, thinking that tomorrow he'd scout out some local bars and check for pool tables.
"I've got it," Sam said quickly, holding up his own wallet. "Dad gave me some cash when we left, too."
"He gave you cash?" Dean blinked. "How much?"
"A couple of hundred." Sam shrugged. "I think it was supposed to be a congratulations for getting into college gift."
Dean's jaw dropped. "Dude, you're holding out on me?" He shoved at the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach by reminding himself he'd got a car. Even if it had been more of a condolence than congratulations. He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe we should go find a card game and we can turn it into a couple thousand." He didn't seriously expect Sam to take him up on it, but hell, needling his brother was fun.
Sam put his wallet back in his pocket. "I'll be right back with food," he said, ignoring Dean's suggestion completely.
"We could go to Reno!" Dean called after him.
Sam threw him the finger over his shoulder as he left the apartment.
Dean sighed once Sam was gone, and took another look around. It would take him awhile to get back with food, and in the meantime... Dean had nothing to do but freak out.
He went over to the pile of crap they'd brought, two duffels and two sleeping bags, and a handful of things they needed to make the place livable. Dean went to work, salting the doorways and windows, then found some chalk and drew all the runes and sigils they would need, in unobtrusive places.
He was finishing up with the water pipes in the bathroom when he heard the front door open.
"Back!" Sam called out, coming in carrying a large bag in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other.
"I figured it was you, or somebody I'd have to shoot," Dean said, casually. He brushed the chalk dust off his fingers and reached for the beer. "They sell this at the Chinese place, or you find a liquor store, too?"
"Corner store across from the Chinese place." He handed over the six pack and carried the bag of food over to where Dean had laid out the sleeping bags.
"We'll check out the neighborhood tomorrow. See where the nearest Del Taco is." He winked at Sam, then grabbed some of the boxes of food and sat down on the floor. He found the chopsticks as well and began eating the first thing he opened -- something with broccoli and chicken, which meant it was Sam's.
"Give me that," Sam growled, grabbing that carton from him, but replacing it with another which turned out to be his sweet and sour pork.
"Hey!" Dean protested.
"Give it up. You hate broccoli." Sam leaned back on the pillows that were piled by the sleeping bags, pillows they'd scavenged from the motel when they left. "I've been thinking..."
Dean sighed. "This is never good."
Sam threw a wrapped fortune cookie at him. "This is our first night in our new apartment. I've been thinking... it's kinda a big deal, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I guess it is." Dean nodded. "I did all the wards and stuff," he said, though he figured Sam probably assumed he had taken care of it.
"Good. Thanks." Sam took another bite of his chicken before continuing. "So I was thinking, we should do something special to mark the occasion. Since it's such a big deal."
"Yeah, we can do that." Dean looked around, thinking there was nothing available to do any kind of marking an occasion. He got as far as saying "Maybe there's a--" when it hit him what Sam was saying. His mouth was still open and he thought maybe Sam shouldn't say stuff like that without some kind of warning.
He was already hard, and he hadn't even finished eating his dinner.
Sam was watching him with a little smirk. "I take it you agree."
Dean set his food down on the floor, staring at Sam.
The smirk faltered a little. "Dean?"
He moved onto his hands and knees, closing the distance and kissing Sam, hard. He tried to remind himself to move away from the food before he ended up kicking it over. He'd want it for breakfast.
He felt Sam fumbling with something for a moment then his arms were wrapping around Dean, pulling him closer and kissing him back just as hard. Dean had to shift his balance so he could get one hand on his jeans. He needed them off, right the fuck now.
There was a lot of squirming and awkward positioning for a bit as they both shed their clothes while staying in as much physical contact as possible. But finally they were both naked and pressed skin to skin head to toe.
Dean was losing himself fast in Sam's mouth and hands, when he realised that they'd had plans. He raised his head and looked around for his duffel.
Sam reached out one long arm and snagged it from where it sat on the other side of the sleeping bags. "Looking for this?"
Sitting up and straddling Sam, he grabbed his duffel and pulled it towards him. He rested it on Sam's stomach and frantically began digging through it. He found his toiletries bag and grabbed the small tube he kept in there for just such emergencies, as well as one of the condoms.
Sam watched him silently through dark eyes; Dean could feel the weight of his stare. Supplies in hand, Dean shoved the bag off Sam, and stopped. Stared back at Sam and his body was screaming at him not to stop, get fucked already and stop stopping for god's sake.
He swallowed hard and leaned down, kissing Sam again. "Fuck me," he forced out, wanting it so badly and somehow terrified he'd manage to screw up again.
"Fuck yes," Sam growled, kissing him hard, then toppling them over until Dean lay sprawled out beneath him.
Dean watched him, spreading his legs and wishing they were there already, Sam inside him and -- he couldn't hold back the whimper, no matter how needy and embarrassing it was.
Sam kissed him hard one more time, then took the lube from Dean's hand and sat up, kneeling between Dean's legs. Dean watched as Sam put some on fingers that shook slightly, then looked up to meet Dean's eyes. "Tell me if I do something wrong," Sam said, voice low and husky, and then pushed a finger inside Dean.
As though he could speak. Dean's body practically froze as Sam entered his body. He started panting, and he was going to come really too soon if he didn't start thinking about something else, something... something he couldn't think of.
Sam's attention seemed totally focused on what he was doing; his gaze locked at where his finger was breaching Dean's body. Then there were two fingers. Dean groaned and grabbed for his knees, holding onto them and deciding that he was probably the world's biggest moron for not doing this sooner. "Come on, Sammy," he panted, wanting Sam inside him before he came.
Sam groaned and closed his eyes for a second. "Is that enough?" he asked uncertainly when he opened them back up and met Dean's gaze. "Can I...?"
"Goddammit Sam, fuck me," Dean growled. He was still a little tight but he didn't fucking care. "Please," he begged, because dignity was pointless when he needed this so much.
"Fuck." Sam grabbed the base of his own cock, obviously in an effort to get some control. He quickly spread lube over his length and then he was moving, and Dean finally felt him pressed against his opening.
"Oh god." Dean breathed out, feeling Sam fill him, stretching him hard and fast. It hurt a little, but he kept his expression clear of it -- thinking instead of the fact Sam was in him. He gasped, choking back something he didn't want to look at. "Oh god, Sammy," he whispered. He was gonna come, he could feel it. Sam wouldn't even have to move, just be right there where he was.
Sam was staring at him and the expression on his face was so... Dean didn't think there were words to describe it. "Dean, I..." Sam began in voice that was hoarse and broken.
It pulled him out of his own arousal just enough. "Come on, baby," he said, softly. "Fuck me." He shifted his hips a little, helping Sam drive himself into Dean.
"God," Sam groaned, then he was moving. Fucking Dean hard and fast.
"Oh yeah, yeah, like that. Fuck me, Sam. Fuck me...." His voice died on him, as his orgasm started to hit. He had enough awareness left to wish he could have lasted just a little longer, then he lost it all in the sensation of Sam. Fucking him.
Sam didn't last much longer than Dean had, but long enough for Dean to watch the sheer wonder that shone from Sam's face when he came.
"Fuck," he whispered. He half-caught Sam as he fell forward, hoping Sam wouldn't pull out just yet. But he had to kiss him, so he grabbed onto Sam and pulled him down, taking his mouth, hard and open and trying to take everything he'd been given.
Sam kissed him back just as thoroughly, as if he wouldn't be happy until he could climb all the way inside of him.
"Love you," Dean whispered, in one of the moments his mouth was free. Or maybe he'd just thought it, because there didn't seem to be a time when Sam wasn't touching him, inhaling him and still moving against him like they were still fucking. He felt Sam slip out, and wished they could go again. Well, they probably could in a couple minutes -- there were advantages to Sam's being eighteen.
"I know," Sam murmured against Dean's skin as he peppered kisses all over Dean's face. "Love you too."
Dean felt himself tense. He tried to tell his brain it was good. It was wonderful, and it wasn't anything he didn't already know. He bit his lower lip, and pressed his face against Sam's shoulder, breathing in the smell of him until it filled his head. "You've never said that before," Dean said, so quiet he could barely hear himself.
Sam pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "I didn't think you'd hear it if I did," he confessed. "But it's always been true."
Dean just nodded, because he knew it was true. He'd known all his life that Sam loved him.
It wasn't the same thing as hearing it, and dear god, but Sam was right. He was a girl. He brought his hands up, thinking it would be better to just get off Sam and clean up, and get back to dinner before.... He pressed his hand against Sam's arm, and stroked his skin. He didn't want to ever stop touching Sam.
Sam smiled faintly. "You barely heard it this time. Guess I'll have to keep saying it."
"I heard you," Dean protested. It wasn't like Sam hadn't spoken loud enough for him to hear.
Sam just kissed him again. "I love you," he said against Dean's mouth.
Shivering, Dean thought that this was stupid. He didn't know exactly which part of it he meant, but enough was enough and he hadn't even eaten more than a bite of his food before Sam had brought up fucking. Dean pushed Sam away this time, rolling out from under his brother and trying not to look at him.
He heard Sam sigh. "And you still can't hear it," he said, sadly.
"I can hear you," he snapped. Sighing, he reached over and picked up his carton of sweet and sour pork. He didn't feel hungry, but he stabbed at it with the chopsticks.
"Yeah, that's why when I say it you practically bolt from the room."
"When you say it? Haven't heard you say it since you were eight years old." Dean didn't know why he was so pissed off, but he had to restrain himself from flinging his food across the room. He slammed it down, not really interested in eating.
"I just said it," Sam pointed out exasperated. "And suddenly the sweet and sour pork is more interesting than I am."
"I could care less about the fucking pork," Dean said, and he scrambled to his feet, unable to sit still and having no idea how he'd gone from relaxed and well-fucked, to this. He felt sore and sticky and he thought maybe a shower would cool him down.
"Fuck," he heard Sam mutter behind him as he headed into the bathroom.
Dean stopped in the doorway. He hated this. He wanted to shower off, have a beer and his dinner and just...not have this. But he hated leaving Sam out here, thinking that he'd fucked things up. Hell, who got mad because someone said 'I love you'?
He looked back over his shoulder, and tried to figure out what he could say.
Sam wasn't looking at him; he was sitting on the sleeping bag where Dean had left him, his head resting on top of his bent knees.
Fuck. It was worse than the puppy eyes Sam gave him. "Sammy," he said, and had to stop and try again, louder. "I didn't mean--" He stopped again, and looked down, grabbing the doorframe and wishing there could just be an easy way to fix this.
"I'm sorry," Sam said softly, still not looking up. "I shouldn't have..."
Dean huffed, half-laughing. "You shouldn't apologise for saying that kind of thing." It wasn't Sam's fault he could apparently barely stand to hear it. Not Sam's fault he was apparently so fucked up he couldn't hear his brother say he loved him.
Dean turned and walked into the bathroom, and switched on the hot water.
He stayed in the shower longer than maybe he needed to; he'd forgot to bring any soap, shampoo, or even towels with him so he ended up just standing under the spray until he had control of himself again. When he came out of the bathroom he saw Sam, curled up in his sleeping bag, back to the bathroom door.
Perfect. Just the way they needed to start this first night in their new place.
Dean walked over to the pile of towels they'd taken from the motel and dried off, then threw the towel down and mopped up the puddles he'd left on the floor. He threw the towel in the corner of the bathroom, then went back out and gathered up his shirt and underwear and socks, then gathered up Sam's as well, and added them to the pile. Their jeans would be good for another day; Dean hung them up, draping them over the clothes rod in the closet.
Sam hadn't moved in all the time Dean was moving around. As Dean walked over, he saw that Sam had fallen asleep. Whether or not he was still pissed at Dean... well, there was no real doubt there.
Grabbing some underwear from his duffel, Dean slipped them on, then tugged his sleeping bag back into place. He hesitated over how close to put it to Sam's, not sure if Sam would even want him near, tonight.
He ended up putting it about a foot away, then he lay down on his stomach, slipping his knife under his pillow. He took a last look at his brother, and wished that he hadn't been such a jerk.
~~~~
end part three
on to part four
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 third part.
continued from part two
part three
Dean stood in the middle of the apartment and looked around. It wasn't the first time he'd signed a lease, wasn't the first time in a long shot he'd signed a name not his own. But it was the first time he'd ever moved into a place expecting that he wouldn't be moving out any time soon.
She'd given them a nine month lease, the standard student contract. They had the option to extend for three months through the summer, and after that... she'd said the word 'yearly' but Dean had stopped processing at that point.
Sam came up behind him, wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and rested his head against Dean's. "You're freaking, aren't you?"
Putting his hands on Sam's arms, Dean held him in place. "No," he said, honestly, though the fact surprised him a little. "I think... I'm not freaking."
Maybe because it was still sinking in, but... this could be home. A place to live, not a place to stay in between hunts.
"You think?" Sam repeated, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice. "Not sure?"
"Give me a couple days," Dean said easily, turning his head and tilting back so he could shoot a grin up at Sam without banging their heads together.
A home, with Sam.
Wow.
Okay, maybe he was freaking a tiny bit.
"I can give you as long as you need," Sam said, his arms tightening their hold on him.
"Great." Dean went back to staring at the walls, letting Sam hold him. The place was really spacious, like Sam had said, though he figured once they got some furniture that feeling would go away pretty fast. Well, maybe not -- what did they need? A bed, a couch, a dresser? A desk for Sam. A lockable cabinet he could store some of his extra weapons in, and some of the books he didn't want to leave in the Impala.
OK, so, they needed to dig up a used furniture place, first thing in the morning. Hit a few garage sales if they could find any, or visit Goodwill and get the stuff they'd need for the kitchen, maybe some more towels, and...
For all the times Dean had done this before, he couldn't seem to quite make his brain stay focused on it.
Home.
Sam chuckled; Dean could feel the vibrations of it deep in his chest. "I can practically hear your brain whirring."
"It's not," he protested, then realised what he'd said. "I mean... Hell. What do you want for dinner? Chinese, pizza, fish tacos?"
"Dude, what is with you and fish tacos?"
He shrugged. "They make you make that face."
"The one where I'm about to ralph all over your shoes?" Dean glanced over his shoulder; yep, there was that face. "I'm not seeing the attraction."
Dean grinned. "Because trying to gross you out is one of the perks of being older." Not that it had been really easy, especially once Sam had started going on hunts. Nothing like having shoes sticky with bodily fluids to make a person stop turning his nose up at a mouth-full of partially chewed food.
"Chinese," Sam said, firmly changing the subject. "I saw a place just around the corner."
"I want sweet and sour pork."
"I know." Sam hugged him a bit tighter for a few seconds then let him go. "I'll go get food, you can stay here and.... not freak some more."
Dean gave him a mild version of the 'are you nuts' look he reserved solely for his brother. "I'm not gonna freak," he said, though he was pretty sure neither of them believed it. He reached back for his wallet as Sam stepped away, thinking that tomorrow he'd scout out some local bars and check for pool tables.
"I've got it," Sam said quickly, holding up his own wallet. "Dad gave me some cash when we left, too."
"He gave you cash?" Dean blinked. "How much?"
"A couple of hundred." Sam shrugged. "I think it was supposed to be a congratulations for getting into college gift."
Dean's jaw dropped. "Dude, you're holding out on me?" He shoved at the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach by reminding himself he'd got a car. Even if it had been more of a condolence than congratulations. He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe we should go find a card game and we can turn it into a couple thousand." He didn't seriously expect Sam to take him up on it, but hell, needling his brother was fun.
Sam put his wallet back in his pocket. "I'll be right back with food," he said, ignoring Dean's suggestion completely.
"We could go to Reno!" Dean called after him.
Sam threw him the finger over his shoulder as he left the apartment.
Dean sighed once Sam was gone, and took another look around. It would take him awhile to get back with food, and in the meantime... Dean had nothing to do but freak out.
He went over to the pile of crap they'd brought, two duffels and two sleeping bags, and a handful of things they needed to make the place livable. Dean went to work, salting the doorways and windows, then found some chalk and drew all the runes and sigils they would need, in unobtrusive places.
He was finishing up with the water pipes in the bathroom when he heard the front door open.
"Back!" Sam called out, coming in carrying a large bag in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other.
"I figured it was you, or somebody I'd have to shoot," Dean said, casually. He brushed the chalk dust off his fingers and reached for the beer. "They sell this at the Chinese place, or you find a liquor store, too?"
"Corner store across from the Chinese place." He handed over the six pack and carried the bag of food over to where Dean had laid out the sleeping bags.
"We'll check out the neighborhood tomorrow. See where the nearest Del Taco is." He winked at Sam, then grabbed some of the boxes of food and sat down on the floor. He found the chopsticks as well and began eating the first thing he opened -- something with broccoli and chicken, which meant it was Sam's.
"Give me that," Sam growled, grabbing that carton from him, but replacing it with another which turned out to be his sweet and sour pork.
"Hey!" Dean protested.
"Give it up. You hate broccoli." Sam leaned back on the pillows that were piled by the sleeping bags, pillows they'd scavenged from the motel when they left. "I've been thinking..."
Dean sighed. "This is never good."
Sam threw a wrapped fortune cookie at him. "This is our first night in our new apartment. I've been thinking... it's kinda a big deal, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I guess it is." Dean nodded. "I did all the wards and stuff," he said, though he figured Sam probably assumed he had taken care of it.
"Good. Thanks." Sam took another bite of his chicken before continuing. "So I was thinking, we should do something special to mark the occasion. Since it's such a big deal."
"Yeah, we can do that." Dean looked around, thinking there was nothing available to do any kind of marking an occasion. He got as far as saying "Maybe there's a--" when it hit him what Sam was saying. His mouth was still open and he thought maybe Sam shouldn't say stuff like that without some kind of warning.
He was already hard, and he hadn't even finished eating his dinner.
Sam was watching him with a little smirk. "I take it you agree."
Dean set his food down on the floor, staring at Sam.
The smirk faltered a little. "Dean?"
He moved onto his hands and knees, closing the distance and kissing Sam, hard. He tried to remind himself to move away from the food before he ended up kicking it over. He'd want it for breakfast.
He felt Sam fumbling with something for a moment then his arms were wrapping around Dean, pulling him closer and kissing him back just as hard. Dean had to shift his balance so he could get one hand on his jeans. He needed them off, right the fuck now.
There was a lot of squirming and awkward positioning for a bit as they both shed their clothes while staying in as much physical contact as possible. But finally they were both naked and pressed skin to skin head to toe.
Dean was losing himself fast in Sam's mouth and hands, when he realised that they'd had plans. He raised his head and looked around for his duffel.
Sam reached out one long arm and snagged it from where it sat on the other side of the sleeping bags. "Looking for this?"
Sitting up and straddling Sam, he grabbed his duffel and pulled it towards him. He rested it on Sam's stomach and frantically began digging through it. He found his toiletries bag and grabbed the small tube he kept in there for just such emergencies, as well as one of the condoms.
Sam watched him silently through dark eyes; Dean could feel the weight of his stare. Supplies in hand, Dean shoved the bag off Sam, and stopped. Stared back at Sam and his body was screaming at him not to stop, get fucked already and stop stopping for god's sake.
He swallowed hard and leaned down, kissing Sam again. "Fuck me," he forced out, wanting it so badly and somehow terrified he'd manage to screw up again.
"Fuck yes," Sam growled, kissing him hard, then toppling them over until Dean lay sprawled out beneath him.
Dean watched him, spreading his legs and wishing they were there already, Sam inside him and -- he couldn't hold back the whimper, no matter how needy and embarrassing it was.
Sam kissed him hard one more time, then took the lube from Dean's hand and sat up, kneeling between Dean's legs. Dean watched as Sam put some on fingers that shook slightly, then looked up to meet Dean's eyes. "Tell me if I do something wrong," Sam said, voice low and husky, and then pushed a finger inside Dean.
As though he could speak. Dean's body practically froze as Sam entered his body. He started panting, and he was going to come really too soon if he didn't start thinking about something else, something... something he couldn't think of.
Sam's attention seemed totally focused on what he was doing; his gaze locked at where his finger was breaching Dean's body. Then there were two fingers. Dean groaned and grabbed for his knees, holding onto them and deciding that he was probably the world's biggest moron for not doing this sooner. "Come on, Sammy," he panted, wanting Sam inside him before he came.
Sam groaned and closed his eyes for a second. "Is that enough?" he asked uncertainly when he opened them back up and met Dean's gaze. "Can I...?"
"Goddammit Sam, fuck me," Dean growled. He was still a little tight but he didn't fucking care. "Please," he begged, because dignity was pointless when he needed this so much.
"Fuck." Sam grabbed the base of his own cock, obviously in an effort to get some control. He quickly spread lube over his length and then he was moving, and Dean finally felt him pressed against his opening.
"Oh god." Dean breathed out, feeling Sam fill him, stretching him hard and fast. It hurt a little, but he kept his expression clear of it -- thinking instead of the fact Sam was in him. He gasped, choking back something he didn't want to look at. "Oh god, Sammy," he whispered. He was gonna come, he could feel it. Sam wouldn't even have to move, just be right there where he was.
Sam was staring at him and the expression on his face was so... Dean didn't think there were words to describe it. "Dean, I..." Sam began in voice that was hoarse and broken.
It pulled him out of his own arousal just enough. "Come on, baby," he said, softly. "Fuck me." He shifted his hips a little, helping Sam drive himself into Dean.
"God," Sam groaned, then he was moving. Fucking Dean hard and fast.
"Oh yeah, yeah, like that. Fuck me, Sam. Fuck me...." His voice died on him, as his orgasm started to hit. He had enough awareness left to wish he could have lasted just a little longer, then he lost it all in the sensation of Sam. Fucking him.
Sam didn't last much longer than Dean had, but long enough for Dean to watch the sheer wonder that shone from Sam's face when he came.
"Fuck," he whispered. He half-caught Sam as he fell forward, hoping Sam wouldn't pull out just yet. But he had to kiss him, so he grabbed onto Sam and pulled him down, taking his mouth, hard and open and trying to take everything he'd been given.
Sam kissed him back just as thoroughly, as if he wouldn't be happy until he could climb all the way inside of him.
"Love you," Dean whispered, in one of the moments his mouth was free. Or maybe he'd just thought it, because there didn't seem to be a time when Sam wasn't touching him, inhaling him and still moving against him like they were still fucking. He felt Sam slip out, and wished they could go again. Well, they probably could in a couple minutes -- there were advantages to Sam's being eighteen.
"I know," Sam murmured against Dean's skin as he peppered kisses all over Dean's face. "Love you too."
Dean felt himself tense. He tried to tell his brain it was good. It was wonderful, and it wasn't anything he didn't already know. He bit his lower lip, and pressed his face against Sam's shoulder, breathing in the smell of him until it filled his head. "You've never said that before," Dean said, so quiet he could barely hear himself.
Sam pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "I didn't think you'd hear it if I did," he confessed. "But it's always been true."
Dean just nodded, because he knew it was true. He'd known all his life that Sam loved him.
It wasn't the same thing as hearing it, and dear god, but Sam was right. He was a girl. He brought his hands up, thinking it would be better to just get off Sam and clean up, and get back to dinner before.... He pressed his hand against Sam's arm, and stroked his skin. He didn't want to ever stop touching Sam.
Sam smiled faintly. "You barely heard it this time. Guess I'll have to keep saying it."
"I heard you," Dean protested. It wasn't like Sam hadn't spoken loud enough for him to hear.
Sam just kissed him again. "I love you," he said against Dean's mouth.
Shivering, Dean thought that this was stupid. He didn't know exactly which part of it he meant, but enough was enough and he hadn't even eaten more than a bite of his food before Sam had brought up fucking. Dean pushed Sam away this time, rolling out from under his brother and trying not to look at him.
He heard Sam sigh. "And you still can't hear it," he said, sadly.
"I can hear you," he snapped. Sighing, he reached over and picked up his carton of sweet and sour pork. He didn't feel hungry, but he stabbed at it with the chopsticks.
"Yeah, that's why when I say it you practically bolt from the room."
"When you say it? Haven't heard you say it since you were eight years old." Dean didn't know why he was so pissed off, but he had to restrain himself from flinging his food across the room. He slammed it down, not really interested in eating.
"I just said it," Sam pointed out exasperated. "And suddenly the sweet and sour pork is more interesting than I am."
"I could care less about the fucking pork," Dean said, and he scrambled to his feet, unable to sit still and having no idea how he'd gone from relaxed and well-fucked, to this. He felt sore and sticky and he thought maybe a shower would cool him down.
"Fuck," he heard Sam mutter behind him as he headed into the bathroom.
Dean stopped in the doorway. He hated this. He wanted to shower off, have a beer and his dinner and just...not have this. But he hated leaving Sam out here, thinking that he'd fucked things up. Hell, who got mad because someone said 'I love you'?
He looked back over his shoulder, and tried to figure out what he could say.
Sam wasn't looking at him; he was sitting on the sleeping bag where Dean had left him, his head resting on top of his bent knees.
Fuck. It was worse than the puppy eyes Sam gave him. "Sammy," he said, and had to stop and try again, louder. "I didn't mean--" He stopped again, and looked down, grabbing the doorframe and wishing there could just be an easy way to fix this.
"I'm sorry," Sam said softly, still not looking up. "I shouldn't have..."
Dean huffed, half-laughing. "You shouldn't apologise for saying that kind of thing." It wasn't Sam's fault he could apparently barely stand to hear it. Not Sam's fault he was apparently so fucked up he couldn't hear his brother say he loved him.
Dean turned and walked into the bathroom, and switched on the hot water.
He stayed in the shower longer than maybe he needed to; he'd forgot to bring any soap, shampoo, or even towels with him so he ended up just standing under the spray until he had control of himself again. When he came out of the bathroom he saw Sam, curled up in his sleeping bag, back to the bathroom door.
Perfect. Just the way they needed to start this first night in their new place.
Dean walked over to the pile of towels they'd taken from the motel and dried off, then threw the towel down and mopped up the puddles he'd left on the floor. He threw the towel in the corner of the bathroom, then went back out and gathered up his shirt and underwear and socks, then gathered up Sam's as well, and added them to the pile. Their jeans would be good for another day; Dean hung them up, draping them over the clothes rod in the closet.
Sam hadn't moved in all the time Dean was moving around. As Dean walked over, he saw that Sam had fallen asleep. Whether or not he was still pissed at Dean... well, there was no real doubt there.
Grabbing some underwear from his duffel, Dean slipped them on, then tugged his sleeping bag back into place. He hesitated over how close to put it to Sam's, not sure if Sam would even want him near, tonight.
He ended up putting it about a foot away, then he lay down on his stomach, slipping his knife under his pillow. He took a last look at his brother, and wished that he hadn't been such a jerk.
~~~~
end part three
on to part four