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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 fourth part.
continued from part three
Breakfast had been cold Chinese food and a total lack of conversation. Dean hadn't been able to think of anything worth saying until finally they had to get on with things that needed to be done whether they were talking to each other or not.
A terse exchange got them agreed on looking for furniture first, then they'd headed out and Dean drove to the first used furniture place in the phone book. He'd been saving money all summer, hitting the pool tables and a couple mid-stakes poker games. He had nearly three thousand dollars to spend on getting the apartment set up and he expected they'd go through it all today. But he couldn't put anything on a fake credit card, not with needing furniture delivered. Using a fake card didn't work when they could track you down.
So it was cash, all carefully tucked inside a hidden pocket of his jacket with the rosary and throwing knife he carried. He was pretty sure he wouldn't need to make any holy water while shopping for couches, and he was just hoping he wouldn't need to use the knife.
"This place okay?" he asked as they parked in the lot of Big Ted's Used Furniture.
Sam looked up for the first time since they got in the car and shrugged. "As good as the next place, I guess."
Great. Sam was still mad at him. It looked like it was going to be one of those long, torturous mad-ons, as well. Dean sighed internally, resigning himself to days of Sam's mood.
"Fine," he snapped. He headed for the front doors.
Inside the place was full of cheap, used crap. The best kind of stuff to offload on students and people like him, he reflected. The only time he'd got something nice was the time he'd let the store manager test him out over the back of the couch he was buying.
Gritting his teeth, Dean wandered over towards the mattresses. Sam followed, trailing him like a lost puppy. Dean did his best to ignore the look on Sam's face as he considered the array of mattresses. He wanted at least a double, though a queen would be best. Unfortunately a mattress, box springs, and frame would wipe out more of his cash than he wanted.
Well, they could start with a top mattress and get a frame later. That meant there were two or three decent choices; Dean looked them over quickly, disregarding one for the huge sag in the center.
"Got any preference?" he asked Sam, indicating the two that would serve.
Sam seemed to shake himself. "I don't know," he said stepping forward and sitting, then lying down on the nearest one. He grimaced. "Not this one," he said, sitting back up. "Springs are about ready to come through."
"OK," Dean nodded, relieved that Sam was willing to at least talk to him about this. He went over and sat down on the second one. It wasn't great, but it wasn't immediately painful, either. "Eh," he said. He'd slept on worse.
Sam came over and sat beside him. "Better than the other one."
"Unless we go for a smaller one, I think this is as good as we can get. Well, unless you want to spend the day tramping around to every store in town." Dean hoped Sam wouldn't say that was exactly what he wanted to do.
Sam gave a half shrug. "It'll do, I guess."
"Great!" Dean said, faking enthusiasm. "You wanna go look at desks while I find a salesperson?"
He got another half shrug and a monotoned, "Sure."
Dean restrained the urge to smack his brother. He noticed a saleslady veer away from them -- apparently she was smart enough to not care if she lost a commission from two guys about to tear each other new assholes. Taking a deep breath, Dean decided there was no way he was dragging his brother through the entire shopping trip like this.
He grabbed Sam by the arm and bodily propelled him back outside.
"Dean, what the-" Sam began, showing more life than he had since the night before.
"Look," Dean said, trying to keep his voice sort of down. "I am fucking sorry about last night. Would you just fucking yell and get it over with instead of walking around being pissed at me because I'm not sure I can put up with this all day. Not without one of us getting his head kicked in and I'm pretty sure they won't sell us any furniture if we do that in their store."
"You think that I..." Sam stared, then closed his eyes for a moment and gave a sharp bark of laughter. "I'm not pissed at you, Dean. I thought... the way you've been acting, and after I.... I thought you were pissed at me."
"You...the fuck, Sam? Why would I be mad at you?"
"Because! Last night... it was a big deal and I wanted... and it was..." Sam gave another bitter laugh. "And then I had to open my big mouth and keep pushing and fucking ruin it."
"You told me you loved me," Dean said, and he caught the startled grin on the woman walking past them. "That isn't something that's supposed to ruin a big deal like last night."
Clearly they were both morons. Dean didn't figure that was news, and he had no idea if kissing Sam was a good idea, right here in front of everyone. Then again, did he care?
He darted forward, placing a quick, almost chaste kiss on Sam's lips. Sam stared at him for a long moment, then grabbed his jacket and pulled him in to kiss him again.
Dean laughed, and managed to wrestle Sam off him -- not right away, and not letting go of him, either. "Dude, we're a little public for too much of that." He couldn't stop grinning, though. "Unless you want to go home and break in the floor again and buy a bed tomorrow."
Grinning back, Sam said, "We're here now, might as well finish it while we can. Then we can break in the floor and the bed."
"So you wanna go back inside and try again?" he asked, still not letting go of his brother.
"Yeah." Sam's voice got quieter as he added, "And I am sorry."
Reaching up, Dean traced a line down the side of Sam's face. "Don't be," he said, voice threatening to break. "Not your fault I'm a freak."
"Maybe, but you're my freak," Sam said possessively.
"Yeah." Dean couldn't stop the wide, no doubt goofy as hell, smile that spread across his face. "You can tattoo it on my ass. Now, let's get back inside and see if we can actually look for shit."
"Right." Sam pulled away from Dean enough that they could walk back into the store.
Dean slid his hand down Sam's arm. What the hell, he thought. Live dangerously. He took hold of Sam's hand and headed back towards the front doors.
"You always did have a tendency to wander off," Dean said, not really truthfully, but he had spent a lot of time holding onto Sam's hand when he'd been very little. He thought it was more because they hadn't wanted to be apart from each other than anything else.
Which wasn't all that different from now.
"I was just following you," Sam replied with seeming complete sincerity.
"Well, follow me to the mattresses, and we'll see if we can find a salesperson we didn't scare off already." He tugged at Sam's hand, even though Sam wasn't lagging behind at all.
Sam grinned and tugged back. They kept tugging on each other's hands like two kids as they crossed back over to the mattress section.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" The saleslady who had avoided them earlier was back, this time all smiles.
"Yeah, we need a mattress," Dean told her, pointing out the one they'd sort of agreed on before. For some reason this sent Sam off into a fit of laughter. Dean raised an eyebrow at him and said, "Dude, it isn't like she doesn't know what we want it for."
That just made Sam laugh harder.
Dean rolled his eyes and told the saleslady -- Denise was the name on her nametag, "Sorry, he's a bit brain-damaged. So, I think we decided on this one. Just the top mattress," he added.
"No box springs or frame?" she asked, and Dean could see her mentally winding up her spiel.
"Yeah. We've got a whole apartment to furnish. Just the top for now," he said, letting her know she could still make a nice commission without trying to sell them something he didn't want.
Not that he was worried about falling for anyone's sales pitch, but he didn't feel like wasting time listening to it, today. For some reason, he was suddenly in a pretty good mood.
He glanced at Sam. Yeah. Some inexplicable reason.
"Why don't you pick out whatever else you're interested in and then we can talk," the saleslady said with a smile. "I'm sure we can work out a deal for you."
"Sounds good, Denise. Thank you." Dean gave her his best smile, though he was pretty sure that the grin on her face was due to the looks she kept sending Sam's way. Sam's dimples were in full force -- no way anyone, including Dean, could fail to be taken in by him.
It took them a couple more hours, though Dean wasn't sure they had really been focusing on the task at hand. But they ended up with a desk for Sam, bar stools for the kitchen counter, a dresser, a couch, and a bigger and much nicer mattress than they'd picked out because apparently Sam's dimples and laughter were just as good for getting discounts as anything Dean had ever tried.
Dean still felt a little stunned when he saw the bill, but he handed over the cash and signed the forms, arranging for everything to be delivered that evening.
"That was a productive morning," Sam said with satisfaction as they walked back to the car.
"Yeah. Now what are we gonna do for the next two weeks?" Sam's classes didn't start until nearly the end of August, and though Dean thought there was some kind of orientation he'd have to go to, they had no obligations at all, until then.
"I'm sure we can think of something." The comment didn't quite sound suggestive, though the shy look Sam gave him to accompany it did move it in that direction.
Dean pretended to think about it as they got in the car -- he very nearly suggested they drive up I-5 for a few days, just to drive. But he was pretty sure Sam would laugh at him, and he didn't want to make it easy for him. He waited until he'd started the car and let himself enjoy that first rumble to life, then he looked at Sam. "Did you want to go home and have sex?"
He could see in Sam's eyes what the answer was -- like he needed confirmation. But all Sam said was, "Do you?" managing to sound hopeful and like he was waiting for a punchline at his expense all at once.
Dean opened his mouth to make a joke -- when his brain kicked in. About two minutes too late, of course. He mentally thumped himself. Of course Sam would be hesitant. The last time they'd had sex, they'd had emotional trauma for an afterglow.
He gave Sam a smile, letting it be as real as he could. "Always, Sammy. With you -- always."
He was rewarded with one of Sam's bright as the sun smiles that always made him feel he should be keeping sunglasses handy just in case. "Sounds like we have our afternoon figured out then."
Dean grinned. "Great! Can we get Del Taco, too?" Much as he was just waiting for Sam's reaction, Dean really was getting hungry. And someday, even if it killed him, he was going to eat fish tacos in front of his brother.
Sam's smile dimmed a little, but didn't go away entirely. "Fine," he sighed. "But I'm not eating any fish tacos."
This time Dean kicked himself, hard, in the center of his brain. One of these days he was going to learn how not to do that. He reached over and took Sam's hand, interlacing his fingers with Sam's. He thought about suggesting something that would make Sam's smile return -- and the image hit him right in the cock, and he gasped.
Fuck, he had to not do that while driving.
"What?" Sam asked as the car did a little wobble as Dean tried to get more innocent thoughts into his head.
He considered the state of the tube of lube he'd had in his bag, and it was difficult to guess if there was enough. "We need to find a drug store," he said. There was no way he was going to risk running out in the middle.
He could still hear the objections in the back of his head, and still remember all the fear and shame he'd dealt with for so long. But strangely, when faced with what to do to make Sam stop thinking Dean didn't want this....it suddenly became pretty damn easy to choose.
"Okay," Sam said, easily agreeable. "What for?"
Dean looked at him, opened his mouth, then grinned. "Seems to me, today might be what you could call a special occasion." He said it seriously -- didn't want Sam to think he was taking this lightly. "We own a bed, well, a mattress at least, and tradition holds that it be broken in properly."
He felt his heart pounding -- realised he was actually, really, honestly going to do this. He took a deep breath, and looked at Sam. The expression on Sam's face made him smile -- made him want to kiss him, but that was kinda hard to do while driving.
"Are-are you sure?" Sam asked, stammering a little. "We don't have to if you-" he began, although his expression was clearly shouting how much he wanted it.
"Sam." Dean considered what he needed to say. There were a billion ways to screw this up, he knew; he'd gone through a hell of a lot of them already. "I want.. more than anything I want to fuck you. Well, maybe not more than I want you to fuck me," he added, thoughtfully. "And I know you've got no reason to believe me when I say I want to do this, now. Today. But as much as the idea still scares the hell out of me, I want -- god, I want you so bad I'm not sure it's safe for me to be driving right now. Turns me on so much, thinking of you underneath me, me pounding into you--"
Dean told himself he really should stop, before he drove them into a building. But he couldn't.
"Want you so much," he said again, trying to sound as calm as he surely didn't feel. "But the only thing I want more than you, is to not hurt you."
He focused on the upcoming intersection, then, glancing out at the other cars and street lights and wishing... He didn't know anymore what he wanted.
Except Sam.
He felt Sam's hand on his arm and glanced over at his brother. "You won't hurt me," Sam said, that belief shining in his eyes. Then his mouth quirked up. "Do you want me to drive?"
"I don't mean physically," Dean said, and he was about to pull over and take Sam up on his offer when he spotted a Wal-Greens Pharmacy. He could make it one more block. He hoped.
"Doesn't matter," Sam said with a shrug. "I trust you."
It took him a minute to answer. "I know you do," was all he said. He couldn't remember a time his little brother hadn't trusted him, whole-heartedly.
It was just himself he didn't always trust.
Sam frowned, watching him. "Do you trust me?"
That caught his attention. "Of course! Sam... I trust you more than anyone." He shrugged. "Well, you and dad. But you'll excuse me if I don't wanna talk about dad while we have a heart-to-heart about me fucking you, all right?" He gave Sam a half-smile.
Which Sam returned. "Good, because neither do I." Then he got serious again. "If you trust me, then trust me to not let you hurt me."
He wanted to say he did, reassure Sam that he knew this would be all right. But the trouble was, he didn't know. He glanced over at Sam, wondering if Sam could really keep that promise. Not that he didn't trust Sam -- he did. He knew that without even thinking.
Which meant even if he couldn't trust himself, he could still let his brother watch his six, and back him up when he needed.
Slowly, he nodded.
Sam smiled. "There's a parking spot on the right, up there."
"Huh?" Dean looked to where Sam was pointing. Oh. Right. Dean scowled and pulled the car into the spot, very carefully not looking over at Sam.
Didn't allow him to ignore the air of amusement from the passenger seat of the car, however.
He settled for just flipping Sam off. Then he got out of the car and hurried into the store, not really caring if Sam followed or not. He went directly for the aisle he needed -- boxes of lube, looking for the largest size they had. He paused a moment to grab the kind he preferred rather than the first one that caught his eye, no matter how much he wanted to make this purchase and go.
He noticed that Sam hadn't come in, so as he made his way to the registers he detoured. He'd intended to do this right -- he'd even entertained thoughts of making some kind of nice dinner, setting the mood and all that.
Dean grabbed a couple of Heath bars, and went to pay for everything. When he got back outside he faltered, then laughed. Sam was sitting behind the wheel.
"Don't say anything," Sam said, as Dean opened the passenger door. "I'm not taking a chance on us dying in a fiery crash before we can get home. I concentrate better under distractions than you do."
"Oh the hell you do!" Dean argued, even as he settled into the seat. He realised he'd never once ridden in his car before now. Maybe it would be kinda nice for a change. And Sam was right -- this way he could indulge himself in his distractions on the way home.
"Hey, you're the one who keeps saying that my brain never shuts off. I'm just agreeing with you." Sam held out his hand. "Keys?"
That surprised him. "You don't have keys to the car?" Well, he didn't remember ever making Sam a copy -- so no, he didn't have keys. "I'm sorry." He should have done that before now. Dean dug into his pocket and handed over his keys.
Sam shrugged as he put the key in the ignition. "No big deal. You drive me everywhere I need to go anyway."
"Yeah, but...you should have a key. You know. Just--" He stopped, because he had no clue what he was saying. It just seemed wrong for Sam not to have a key to his car.
Sam shot him a fond smile. "Okay."
"Can we just go home before I burn a hole in my jeans?" Dean was seriously beginning to get tired of the way lately being with Sam dragged all of his emotions out into the sunlight. Maybe he should have fallen in love with a girl.
Nah.
"We're going, keep your pants on." Sam pulled out into traffic. "For now."
Dean seriously considered unzipping and giving Sam a free show, but the traffic in the next lane was too thick to get away with it. Not to mention the fact Sam had this thing about not crashing -- and Dean had to admit he didn't want his car to get wrecked, either.
Luckily they weren't too far away from the apartment, and before he could really start to feel the pain they were pulling up in front of the house.
Sam turned off the car and they sat there in silence for a moment, the tension of anticipation thick in the small space. "So..."
Dean launched himself at Sam, capturing his mouth and kissing him as hard as he could. Then he pushed back. "Inside. Upstairs."
He watched Sam lick his lips once and catch his breath. "Right," Sam said, then was opening the car door and heading for the building just this side of a run.
It was a good thing they didn't run into anyone on the way in. Dean had a brief stab of alarm that he'd end up standing in the hallway making polite chitchat while his cock tried to explode. As it was, they got to their apartment, got the door unlocked, and got inside without anything or anyone stopping them.
Dean dropped the bag on the floor as Sam launched himself at Dean.
He ended up with his back pressed to the door and Sam pressed to his front, kissing him like he was trying to crawl inside. Which was perfectly all right with Dean. There was no place he'd rather be. He held onto his brother, tugging at his clothes to pull him even closer.
He knew he needed to figure out what to do -- how to go about this. Dean wasn't entirely sure he wanted to slow down long enough to let his brain work properly, but he knew he had to. He sucked on Sam's lower lip, then nibbled a short line down his neck and placed a kiss on his collarbone.
Right. Plans. Slowing down.
Dean looked at Sam and tried to form a coherent thought beyond "strip."
Well, but that was as good a place to start as any.
"Come on, Sam. We gotta get undressed before we come in our jeans. Again." He grinned. "Unless you want sticky pants." Dean snickered.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Y'know, that wasn't funny the first time and it hasn't really improved with repetition," he said, although he also stepped back and began to strip.
"Sticky pants," Dean repeated, because Sam was so, so wrong. It was funny. He pulled off his shirt and dropped it just inside the door, noticing how he and Sam couldn't seem to take their eyes off each other.
That earned him another eye roll as Sam toed off his sneakers and started undoing his jeans.
"You really have no class, do you," Dean said, sadly. "What the hell was I thinking when I fell in love with you?" Dean took off his jeans and let them fall on top of his shirt, then wondered where the hell he'd left the bag from the pharmacy.
"The same thing I was?" Sam suggested, as he raised one foot then the other to get rid of his socks. "That my brother was the best thing that ever happened to me?"
Dean felt himself blush, and looked down -- and spotted the bag. He grabbed it and tried not to respond to Sam's words with a joke. "Yeah," he said, because what Sam had just said was the truth. He looked up and found Sam watching him with a worried frown. Dean gave him a smile. "Yeah. You are."
If Sam's answering grin had more than a little relief in it, neither of them chose to comment on it.
"All right, so," Dean said, and pulled out the box of lube from the bag. He tied the bag's handles into a knot, hiding the chocolate from Sam for now.
"So," Sam said, looking suddenly a little nervous.
"So... did you read up on this at all?" Surely Sam had done some research. Whether it was porn on the internet, or books from the library -- he couldn't imagine his brother not knowing all the facts, even if he had almost none of the experience.
"Some," Sam said. "And then there's the... y'know." He did that hand gesture at his head that had come to signify his visions. His voice got quieter. "And there was last night."
"So," Dean said seriously, "Do you want me to talk you through this?" He paused and added, "I won't be fucking you this time -- I mean, all the way. It'll take some time to get you ready for that." Then another thought occurred and he said, "Unless you've been.. um. Fuck."
The image of his brother fucking himself, on fingers or toys... Dean worked his jaw up and down and wondered just how fast he could get a dildo. Tomorrow?
Sam blushed. "No. I thought... I wanted to wait for you."
Dean grinned. "And you call me the girl," he said, softly. He walked forward and gave Sam a kiss -- hoping to wind his brain down a little, and his body back up.
Sam kissed him back wholeheartedly, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and keeping him from pulling away.
When Dean got possession of his mouth back, he asked, a bit breathless, "So do you want the lecture or should I just get you on the sleeping bags and legs in the air?"
He saw Sam's eyes go dark and a little glazed at his words. "What lecture?" Sam finally managed after licking his lips a couple of times.
"You know, talk you through it as we go. Or before we go, if you think you might not be able to concentrate." He gave Sam another kiss, placing his hands on Sam's hips and holding him tight.
Sam nodded, and seemed to think it over. "Which way do you want to do it?" he finally asked.
"If it were up to me? I'd go back in time and tell myself to do this a month ago, so that now I could just slide into you fast and hard." He grinned. "Did your visions at least get us here faster than the first time?"
Sam frowned, looking like he was trying to find the answer. "Took us longer to get to the sex. But the fucking was faster after that."
Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "I wasn't your first, was I?" He made it sound like he was only pretending to be jealous -- but, weirdly, he was.
"You were the first guy who counted," Sam told him, heartfelt.
"How many?" he demanded, unable to stop his smile from getting out. "Anyone I need to go beat up?"
"Dean, it's not like I can call up every little detail that-"
"You get any names, I wanna know." Dean scowled at him. "Especially if he didn't call you the next day."
"Dean..."
"Yeah?"
"Whatever might have happened in some other reality that might only exist inside my head, you're my first in this reality."
"Should it scare me that that doesn't sound weird?" Dean cut off any response Sam might have made by kissing him again. And he considered Sam's question, for real. "How about I talk you through it, and if you need me to shut up just let me know."
"Sounds good." Sam pressed himself close and kissed him again.
The kiss made it hard to remember what Dean wanted to tell him. One hand on the back of Sam's head, one on the small of his back, and a knee in-between Sam's legs and almost every inch of skin that could be pressed against Sam's body, was.
"I.. fuck. First thing we gotta do is get over to the sleeping bags before we do this against the wall."
That made Sam laugh, Dean feeling the sound as much as hearing it, they were pressed so closed. "I'll move if you move."
"Damn." Dean made a show of considering it. "We could do this here...." Except he'd need a third hand, or a table, or something. He gave Sam one more quick kiss then gave him a gentle shove. "Bed. Er, what the fuck ever. Now."
Laughing, Sam crossed the room and sat down on the sleeping bags then turned and gave Dean a comehither look. Never one to refuse Sam... most of the time, Dean went hither.
He stopped at the foot of the bag Sam was sitting on, and Dean glanced over at his own. Still askew, and too far away. He reached down and dragged it over. "You got a preference between on your back, side, or hands and knees?"
Sam opened his mouth, but it was a moment before he finally spoke. "I was going to say whatever way you think is best, but the truth is I want to see you."
Dean nodded, and leaned forward. He dropped the box of lube on the floor beside the sleeping bag, reminding himself to give himself time to get it out of the fucking box when he was ready for it, then moved in to kiss Sam again. He used his body to encourage Sam to lean backwards, pressing against him and trying not to forget what he wanted to do.
Sam went willingly, letting Dean press him back until he was lying flat, spreading his legs so that Dean was cradled between them as they continued kissing.
Dean moaned, and wrestled his hands underneath Sam. One on his back, one on his ass, and he rocked himself against Sam and told himself the whole idea was to go slow. Slow enough he didn't make Sam think this was their worst idea yet.
Of course he'd also told Sam he was going to talk him through this, and he'd apparently forgotten that meant he couldn't keep kissing him. It didn't make it any easier that Sam had wrapped arms and those long legs around him, pulling Dean closer as he rocked up against him.
Well, hell. All he'd wanted to do at this point was get Sam introduced to the idea. A finger or two, and get him off, and for that he didn't need much of anything that he didn't already have going. Dean kept kissing him, and reached over, blindly, for the lube. It took him a few moments to get the box open, and fumble the tube into his hand, but he finally got it and flipped the cap open.
If Sam noticed what he was doing, he didn't give any sign, seeming entirely focused on kissing Dean and moving against him. Dean heartily approved of both -- he had very quickly grown addicted to Sam's kisses, the way he seemed to focus everything on his mouth, like the rest of his body was just on autopilot. It made Dean's entire body come alive; when Sam kissed him like this he knew it would be possible to come from Sam kissing him.
Someday he'd even try it. For right now...he got the tube open and managed to get some lube on his fingers, then scooted the tube far enough away they wouldn't roll over on top of it.
Then he rolled onto his side and moved his hand to Sam's ass. Touched him with the fingers that weren't all lubed up, letting Sam know what he was doing. Sam stilled as he realised, but didn't tense up or pull away. Well, not any further than the few inches that he needed to be able to meet Dean's eyes.
"It's gonna feel weird," Dean said, quietly. Well, then maybe Sam didn't really need to be told, Dean thought. He had no idea just how much of this Sam had remembered in his visions. Instead of debating what else to say, Dean just moved down to suck on his favorite spot on Sam's neck. As Sam gasped, Dean slid a finger inside him.
Sam's eyes widened and he went still again. Dean moved his finger around -- not trying for anything but to let Sam get used to the feel of it. He kept sucking on Sam's neck, keeping him aroused.
"This is weird," Sam said on a half laugh, one hand coming up to stroke the back of Dean's neck. "I... remember what it feels like, but it's different somehow."
"What do you remember?" Dean asked. "Tell me what we did." He continued fucking Sam with his finger, slowly, in and out until Sam's hips were rocking with the motion.
Sam gave another breathless laugh. "Might be easier to tell you what we didn't do. I never knew I was so kinky. You on the other hand, I kinda figured."
That went right to Dean's cock and slammed into his gut, and he shoved his cock against Sam. "Tell me," he whispered, because dear god he had to know. He wanted to hear it, from Sam's mouth, in those hot, breathless gasps.
Sam's eyes fluttered closed. "There was a lot of fucking in public places," he finally offered, voice getting deeper and huskier.
Dean had to fight back the almost-orgasm that hit him. "Sammy," he gasped, trying to sound shocked. "You let me do this to you in public?" He figured it wasn't quite this, and probably not quite public, but the sort of semi-public where someone might wander by but never did.
The thought of making Sam writhe with need, in the dark corner of a bar, jeans unzipped and Dean's hand inside -- maybe a single finger, just like he was doing now -- Dean bit back a cry, and came.
Sam was staring at him, half bemused, half amazed, still pretty much all aroused. "God, you're easy."
Dean didn't try to lift his head and glare at his brother. Instead he focused on breathing until his brain seemed to be working again. Then he said, "Been thinking about having sex with you for a long time. Now you tell me I get to have one of my favorite fantasies? Hell yes, I'm easy."
His heart was pounding, and Dean lay still.
Sam's hand was back at the nape of his neck, toying with the short hairs there. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this but... you pretty much could have any fantasy just for the asking."
That made him stop -- he figured Sam was expecting a freak out, given the way he was rubbing Dean's neck. So he said, "I have a fantasy about you washing my car."
Sam snorted. "Sexual fantasies," he clarified.
"You could be naked," Dean protested, then thought that realistically Sam could be in a swimsuit, and yeah. That would be all right. With Dean sitting nearby with a shotgun to make sure no one who took a look did more than that.
It occured to him that they were having this conversation with Dean's finger still in Sam's ass, so he gave it a wriggle to see how distractable Sam really was.
He heard Sam's breath catch. "Y-you can't tell me that your sexual fantasies revolve around me washing your car," he said, though his voice had a more strained tone to it.
"Can't I?" Dean taunted, and he slipped his finger out, rubbing it against his ring finger to smear the slightly-dried lube there. Before Sam could do anything other than gather himself to glare at Dean, he slipped the tips of both fingers inside Sam.
Sam gasped and arched into the touch. "Dean..."
"You gonna...wash my car for me?" Dean asked, tilting his voice down into the low growl that had never failed to make his lover come. He knew it was nothing compared to the way Sam sounded when he yelled, and Dean made a note to explain that very clearly to Sam, soon, so that Dean could hear more of it. He pushed his fingers in to the first knuckle, then pulled them back out.
Sam whimpered.
"Including the tires," Dean said, working his fingers back in, slowly, not pushing farther than the first time. "Hubcaps," he added, giving Sam a kiss on his shoulder, then lowering his head to kiss his chest, once, twice, working his way down. He slid down Sam's body, kissing his stomach. "Rims," he finished, then he put his mouth on Sam's cock, and slid his fingers all the way inside.
Sam gave a wordless yell, his hips bucking up violently.
Opening his mouth, Dean let Sam's cock fuck him, even as he continued fucking Sam with his fingers. It didn't take long before Sam was shaking and screaming his brother's name as he came down Dean's throat.
He let his fingers still, kept his mouth moving slowly, wringing every last drop from Sam's cock, until Sam was slumped on the floor, boneless. Then he pulled himself up, slipped his fingers from Sam's ass, and reached over to grab the tshirt Sam had dropped earlier. He used it to wipe his hand clean, then tossed it vaguely towards the bathroom.
Sam reached up a hand lazily and tugged on Dean's arm, trying to pull him back down.
"God, you're bossy," Dean muttered, even as he let himself be pulled into place.
Sam wrapped himself around Dean and sighed in contentment. "Thank you," he said softly.
Dean hugged him, mostly one-armed from the way Sam was squished against him. He rubbed one hand down Sam's back, feeling the way Sam was so completely relaxed beside him. Dean's eyes slipped closed and he tried to make himself say 'you're welcome.' Finally he just turned his head and gave Sam a kiss on the temple.
Sam made a sound halfway like a purr and snuggled closer. It made Dean laugh, and he hugged Sam again. Sam's idea of a nap was clearly an excellent one, Dean thought, as long as they got up before anyone arrived to deliver their furniture.
They ought to at least be dressed by then.
But they had all afternoon, which meant they had plenty of time to indulge.
~~~
end part four
on to part five
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 fourth part.
continued from part three
Breakfast had been cold Chinese food and a total lack of conversation. Dean hadn't been able to think of anything worth saying until finally they had to get on with things that needed to be done whether they were talking to each other or not.
A terse exchange got them agreed on looking for furniture first, then they'd headed out and Dean drove to the first used furniture place in the phone book. He'd been saving money all summer, hitting the pool tables and a couple mid-stakes poker games. He had nearly three thousand dollars to spend on getting the apartment set up and he expected they'd go through it all today. But he couldn't put anything on a fake credit card, not with needing furniture delivered. Using a fake card didn't work when they could track you down.
So it was cash, all carefully tucked inside a hidden pocket of his jacket with the rosary and throwing knife he carried. He was pretty sure he wouldn't need to make any holy water while shopping for couches, and he was just hoping he wouldn't need to use the knife.
"This place okay?" he asked as they parked in the lot of Big Ted's Used Furniture.
Sam looked up for the first time since they got in the car and shrugged. "As good as the next place, I guess."
Great. Sam was still mad at him. It looked like it was going to be one of those long, torturous mad-ons, as well. Dean sighed internally, resigning himself to days of Sam's mood.
"Fine," he snapped. He headed for the front doors.
Inside the place was full of cheap, used crap. The best kind of stuff to offload on students and people like him, he reflected. The only time he'd got something nice was the time he'd let the store manager test him out over the back of the couch he was buying.
Gritting his teeth, Dean wandered over towards the mattresses. Sam followed, trailing him like a lost puppy. Dean did his best to ignore the look on Sam's face as he considered the array of mattresses. He wanted at least a double, though a queen would be best. Unfortunately a mattress, box springs, and frame would wipe out more of his cash than he wanted.
Well, they could start with a top mattress and get a frame later. That meant there were two or three decent choices; Dean looked them over quickly, disregarding one for the huge sag in the center.
"Got any preference?" he asked Sam, indicating the two that would serve.
Sam seemed to shake himself. "I don't know," he said stepping forward and sitting, then lying down on the nearest one. He grimaced. "Not this one," he said, sitting back up. "Springs are about ready to come through."
"OK," Dean nodded, relieved that Sam was willing to at least talk to him about this. He went over and sat down on the second one. It wasn't great, but it wasn't immediately painful, either. "Eh," he said. He'd slept on worse.
Sam came over and sat beside him. "Better than the other one."
"Unless we go for a smaller one, I think this is as good as we can get. Well, unless you want to spend the day tramping around to every store in town." Dean hoped Sam wouldn't say that was exactly what he wanted to do.
Sam gave a half shrug. "It'll do, I guess."
"Great!" Dean said, faking enthusiasm. "You wanna go look at desks while I find a salesperson?"
He got another half shrug and a monotoned, "Sure."
Dean restrained the urge to smack his brother. He noticed a saleslady veer away from them -- apparently she was smart enough to not care if she lost a commission from two guys about to tear each other new assholes. Taking a deep breath, Dean decided there was no way he was dragging his brother through the entire shopping trip like this.
He grabbed Sam by the arm and bodily propelled him back outside.
"Dean, what the-" Sam began, showing more life than he had since the night before.
"Look," Dean said, trying to keep his voice sort of down. "I am fucking sorry about last night. Would you just fucking yell and get it over with instead of walking around being pissed at me because I'm not sure I can put up with this all day. Not without one of us getting his head kicked in and I'm pretty sure they won't sell us any furniture if we do that in their store."
"You think that I..." Sam stared, then closed his eyes for a moment and gave a sharp bark of laughter. "I'm not pissed at you, Dean. I thought... the way you've been acting, and after I.... I thought you were pissed at me."
"You...the fuck, Sam? Why would I be mad at you?"
"Because! Last night... it was a big deal and I wanted... and it was..." Sam gave another bitter laugh. "And then I had to open my big mouth and keep pushing and fucking ruin it."
"You told me you loved me," Dean said, and he caught the startled grin on the woman walking past them. "That isn't something that's supposed to ruin a big deal like last night."
Clearly they were both morons. Dean didn't figure that was news, and he had no idea if kissing Sam was a good idea, right here in front of everyone. Then again, did he care?
He darted forward, placing a quick, almost chaste kiss on Sam's lips. Sam stared at him for a long moment, then grabbed his jacket and pulled him in to kiss him again.
Dean laughed, and managed to wrestle Sam off him -- not right away, and not letting go of him, either. "Dude, we're a little public for too much of that." He couldn't stop grinning, though. "Unless you want to go home and break in the floor again and buy a bed tomorrow."
Grinning back, Sam said, "We're here now, might as well finish it while we can. Then we can break in the floor and the bed."
"So you wanna go back inside and try again?" he asked, still not letting go of his brother.
"Yeah." Sam's voice got quieter as he added, "And I am sorry."
Reaching up, Dean traced a line down the side of Sam's face. "Don't be," he said, voice threatening to break. "Not your fault I'm a freak."
"Maybe, but you're my freak," Sam said possessively.
"Yeah." Dean couldn't stop the wide, no doubt goofy as hell, smile that spread across his face. "You can tattoo it on my ass. Now, let's get back inside and see if we can actually look for shit."
"Right." Sam pulled away from Dean enough that they could walk back into the store.
Dean slid his hand down Sam's arm. What the hell, he thought. Live dangerously. He took hold of Sam's hand and headed back towards the front doors.
"You always did have a tendency to wander off," Dean said, not really truthfully, but he had spent a lot of time holding onto Sam's hand when he'd been very little. He thought it was more because they hadn't wanted to be apart from each other than anything else.
Which wasn't all that different from now.
"I was just following you," Sam replied with seeming complete sincerity.
"Well, follow me to the mattresses, and we'll see if we can find a salesperson we didn't scare off already." He tugged at Sam's hand, even though Sam wasn't lagging behind at all.
Sam grinned and tugged back. They kept tugging on each other's hands like two kids as they crossed back over to the mattress section.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" The saleslady who had avoided them earlier was back, this time all smiles.
"Yeah, we need a mattress," Dean told her, pointing out the one they'd sort of agreed on before. For some reason this sent Sam off into a fit of laughter. Dean raised an eyebrow at him and said, "Dude, it isn't like she doesn't know what we want it for."
That just made Sam laugh harder.
Dean rolled his eyes and told the saleslady -- Denise was the name on her nametag, "Sorry, he's a bit brain-damaged. So, I think we decided on this one. Just the top mattress," he added.
"No box springs or frame?" she asked, and Dean could see her mentally winding up her spiel.
"Yeah. We've got a whole apartment to furnish. Just the top for now," he said, letting her know she could still make a nice commission without trying to sell them something he didn't want.
Not that he was worried about falling for anyone's sales pitch, but he didn't feel like wasting time listening to it, today. For some reason, he was suddenly in a pretty good mood.
He glanced at Sam. Yeah. Some inexplicable reason.
"Why don't you pick out whatever else you're interested in and then we can talk," the saleslady said with a smile. "I'm sure we can work out a deal for you."
"Sounds good, Denise. Thank you." Dean gave her his best smile, though he was pretty sure that the grin on her face was due to the looks she kept sending Sam's way. Sam's dimples were in full force -- no way anyone, including Dean, could fail to be taken in by him.
It took them a couple more hours, though Dean wasn't sure they had really been focusing on the task at hand. But they ended up with a desk for Sam, bar stools for the kitchen counter, a dresser, a couch, and a bigger and much nicer mattress than they'd picked out because apparently Sam's dimples and laughter were just as good for getting discounts as anything Dean had ever tried.
Dean still felt a little stunned when he saw the bill, but he handed over the cash and signed the forms, arranging for everything to be delivered that evening.
"That was a productive morning," Sam said with satisfaction as they walked back to the car.
"Yeah. Now what are we gonna do for the next two weeks?" Sam's classes didn't start until nearly the end of August, and though Dean thought there was some kind of orientation he'd have to go to, they had no obligations at all, until then.
"I'm sure we can think of something." The comment didn't quite sound suggestive, though the shy look Sam gave him to accompany it did move it in that direction.
Dean pretended to think about it as they got in the car -- he very nearly suggested they drive up I-5 for a few days, just to drive. But he was pretty sure Sam would laugh at him, and he didn't want to make it easy for him. He waited until he'd started the car and let himself enjoy that first rumble to life, then he looked at Sam. "Did you want to go home and have sex?"
He could see in Sam's eyes what the answer was -- like he needed confirmation. But all Sam said was, "Do you?" managing to sound hopeful and like he was waiting for a punchline at his expense all at once.
Dean opened his mouth to make a joke -- when his brain kicked in. About two minutes too late, of course. He mentally thumped himself. Of course Sam would be hesitant. The last time they'd had sex, they'd had emotional trauma for an afterglow.
He gave Sam a smile, letting it be as real as he could. "Always, Sammy. With you -- always."
He was rewarded with one of Sam's bright as the sun smiles that always made him feel he should be keeping sunglasses handy just in case. "Sounds like we have our afternoon figured out then."
Dean grinned. "Great! Can we get Del Taco, too?" Much as he was just waiting for Sam's reaction, Dean really was getting hungry. And someday, even if it killed him, he was going to eat fish tacos in front of his brother.
Sam's smile dimmed a little, but didn't go away entirely. "Fine," he sighed. "But I'm not eating any fish tacos."
This time Dean kicked himself, hard, in the center of his brain. One of these days he was going to learn how not to do that. He reached over and took Sam's hand, interlacing his fingers with Sam's. He thought about suggesting something that would make Sam's smile return -- and the image hit him right in the cock, and he gasped.
Fuck, he had to not do that while driving.
"What?" Sam asked as the car did a little wobble as Dean tried to get more innocent thoughts into his head.
He considered the state of the tube of lube he'd had in his bag, and it was difficult to guess if there was enough. "We need to find a drug store," he said. There was no way he was going to risk running out in the middle.
He could still hear the objections in the back of his head, and still remember all the fear and shame he'd dealt with for so long. But strangely, when faced with what to do to make Sam stop thinking Dean didn't want this....it suddenly became pretty damn easy to choose.
"Okay," Sam said, easily agreeable. "What for?"
Dean looked at him, opened his mouth, then grinned. "Seems to me, today might be what you could call a special occasion." He said it seriously -- didn't want Sam to think he was taking this lightly. "We own a bed, well, a mattress at least, and tradition holds that it be broken in properly."
He felt his heart pounding -- realised he was actually, really, honestly going to do this. He took a deep breath, and looked at Sam. The expression on Sam's face made him smile -- made him want to kiss him, but that was kinda hard to do while driving.
"Are-are you sure?" Sam asked, stammering a little. "We don't have to if you-" he began, although his expression was clearly shouting how much he wanted it.
"Sam." Dean considered what he needed to say. There were a billion ways to screw this up, he knew; he'd gone through a hell of a lot of them already. "I want.. more than anything I want to fuck you. Well, maybe not more than I want you to fuck me," he added, thoughtfully. "And I know you've got no reason to believe me when I say I want to do this, now. Today. But as much as the idea still scares the hell out of me, I want -- god, I want you so bad I'm not sure it's safe for me to be driving right now. Turns me on so much, thinking of you underneath me, me pounding into you--"
Dean told himself he really should stop, before he drove them into a building. But he couldn't.
"Want you so much," he said again, trying to sound as calm as he surely didn't feel. "But the only thing I want more than you, is to not hurt you."
He focused on the upcoming intersection, then, glancing out at the other cars and street lights and wishing... He didn't know anymore what he wanted.
Except Sam.
He felt Sam's hand on his arm and glanced over at his brother. "You won't hurt me," Sam said, that belief shining in his eyes. Then his mouth quirked up. "Do you want me to drive?"
"I don't mean physically," Dean said, and he was about to pull over and take Sam up on his offer when he spotted a Wal-Greens Pharmacy. He could make it one more block. He hoped.
"Doesn't matter," Sam said with a shrug. "I trust you."
It took him a minute to answer. "I know you do," was all he said. He couldn't remember a time his little brother hadn't trusted him, whole-heartedly.
It was just himself he didn't always trust.
Sam frowned, watching him. "Do you trust me?"
That caught his attention. "Of course! Sam... I trust you more than anyone." He shrugged. "Well, you and dad. But you'll excuse me if I don't wanna talk about dad while we have a heart-to-heart about me fucking you, all right?" He gave Sam a half-smile.
Which Sam returned. "Good, because neither do I." Then he got serious again. "If you trust me, then trust me to not let you hurt me."
He wanted to say he did, reassure Sam that he knew this would be all right. But the trouble was, he didn't know. He glanced over at Sam, wondering if Sam could really keep that promise. Not that he didn't trust Sam -- he did. He knew that without even thinking.
Which meant even if he couldn't trust himself, he could still let his brother watch his six, and back him up when he needed.
Slowly, he nodded.
Sam smiled. "There's a parking spot on the right, up there."
"Huh?" Dean looked to where Sam was pointing. Oh. Right. Dean scowled and pulled the car into the spot, very carefully not looking over at Sam.
Didn't allow him to ignore the air of amusement from the passenger seat of the car, however.
He settled for just flipping Sam off. Then he got out of the car and hurried into the store, not really caring if Sam followed or not. He went directly for the aisle he needed -- boxes of lube, looking for the largest size they had. He paused a moment to grab the kind he preferred rather than the first one that caught his eye, no matter how much he wanted to make this purchase and go.
He noticed that Sam hadn't come in, so as he made his way to the registers he detoured. He'd intended to do this right -- he'd even entertained thoughts of making some kind of nice dinner, setting the mood and all that.
Dean grabbed a couple of Heath bars, and went to pay for everything. When he got back outside he faltered, then laughed. Sam was sitting behind the wheel.
"Don't say anything," Sam said, as Dean opened the passenger door. "I'm not taking a chance on us dying in a fiery crash before we can get home. I concentrate better under distractions than you do."
"Oh the hell you do!" Dean argued, even as he settled into the seat. He realised he'd never once ridden in his car before now. Maybe it would be kinda nice for a change. And Sam was right -- this way he could indulge himself in his distractions on the way home.
"Hey, you're the one who keeps saying that my brain never shuts off. I'm just agreeing with you." Sam held out his hand. "Keys?"
That surprised him. "You don't have keys to the car?" Well, he didn't remember ever making Sam a copy -- so no, he didn't have keys. "I'm sorry." He should have done that before now. Dean dug into his pocket and handed over his keys.
Sam shrugged as he put the key in the ignition. "No big deal. You drive me everywhere I need to go anyway."
"Yeah, but...you should have a key. You know. Just--" He stopped, because he had no clue what he was saying. It just seemed wrong for Sam not to have a key to his car.
Sam shot him a fond smile. "Okay."
"Can we just go home before I burn a hole in my jeans?" Dean was seriously beginning to get tired of the way lately being with Sam dragged all of his emotions out into the sunlight. Maybe he should have fallen in love with a girl.
Nah.
"We're going, keep your pants on." Sam pulled out into traffic. "For now."
Dean seriously considered unzipping and giving Sam a free show, but the traffic in the next lane was too thick to get away with it. Not to mention the fact Sam had this thing about not crashing -- and Dean had to admit he didn't want his car to get wrecked, either.
Luckily they weren't too far away from the apartment, and before he could really start to feel the pain they were pulling up in front of the house.
Sam turned off the car and they sat there in silence for a moment, the tension of anticipation thick in the small space. "So..."
Dean launched himself at Sam, capturing his mouth and kissing him as hard as he could. Then he pushed back. "Inside. Upstairs."
He watched Sam lick his lips once and catch his breath. "Right," Sam said, then was opening the car door and heading for the building just this side of a run.
It was a good thing they didn't run into anyone on the way in. Dean had a brief stab of alarm that he'd end up standing in the hallway making polite chitchat while his cock tried to explode. As it was, they got to their apartment, got the door unlocked, and got inside without anything or anyone stopping them.
Dean dropped the bag on the floor as Sam launched himself at Dean.
He ended up with his back pressed to the door and Sam pressed to his front, kissing him like he was trying to crawl inside. Which was perfectly all right with Dean. There was no place he'd rather be. He held onto his brother, tugging at his clothes to pull him even closer.
He knew he needed to figure out what to do -- how to go about this. Dean wasn't entirely sure he wanted to slow down long enough to let his brain work properly, but he knew he had to. He sucked on Sam's lower lip, then nibbled a short line down his neck and placed a kiss on his collarbone.
Right. Plans. Slowing down.
Dean looked at Sam and tried to form a coherent thought beyond "strip."
Well, but that was as good a place to start as any.
"Come on, Sam. We gotta get undressed before we come in our jeans. Again." He grinned. "Unless you want sticky pants." Dean snickered.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Y'know, that wasn't funny the first time and it hasn't really improved with repetition," he said, although he also stepped back and began to strip.
"Sticky pants," Dean repeated, because Sam was so, so wrong. It was funny. He pulled off his shirt and dropped it just inside the door, noticing how he and Sam couldn't seem to take their eyes off each other.
That earned him another eye roll as Sam toed off his sneakers and started undoing his jeans.
"You really have no class, do you," Dean said, sadly. "What the hell was I thinking when I fell in love with you?" Dean took off his jeans and let them fall on top of his shirt, then wondered where the hell he'd left the bag from the pharmacy.
"The same thing I was?" Sam suggested, as he raised one foot then the other to get rid of his socks. "That my brother was the best thing that ever happened to me?"
Dean felt himself blush, and looked down -- and spotted the bag. He grabbed it and tried not to respond to Sam's words with a joke. "Yeah," he said, because what Sam had just said was the truth. He looked up and found Sam watching him with a worried frown. Dean gave him a smile. "Yeah. You are."
If Sam's answering grin had more than a little relief in it, neither of them chose to comment on it.
"All right, so," Dean said, and pulled out the box of lube from the bag. He tied the bag's handles into a knot, hiding the chocolate from Sam for now.
"So," Sam said, looking suddenly a little nervous.
"So... did you read up on this at all?" Surely Sam had done some research. Whether it was porn on the internet, or books from the library -- he couldn't imagine his brother not knowing all the facts, even if he had almost none of the experience.
"Some," Sam said. "And then there's the... y'know." He did that hand gesture at his head that had come to signify his visions. His voice got quieter. "And there was last night."
"So," Dean said seriously, "Do you want me to talk you through this?" He paused and added, "I won't be fucking you this time -- I mean, all the way. It'll take some time to get you ready for that." Then another thought occurred and he said, "Unless you've been.. um. Fuck."
The image of his brother fucking himself, on fingers or toys... Dean worked his jaw up and down and wondered just how fast he could get a dildo. Tomorrow?
Sam blushed. "No. I thought... I wanted to wait for you."
Dean grinned. "And you call me the girl," he said, softly. He walked forward and gave Sam a kiss -- hoping to wind his brain down a little, and his body back up.
Sam kissed him back wholeheartedly, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and keeping him from pulling away.
When Dean got possession of his mouth back, he asked, a bit breathless, "So do you want the lecture or should I just get you on the sleeping bags and legs in the air?"
He saw Sam's eyes go dark and a little glazed at his words. "What lecture?" Sam finally managed after licking his lips a couple of times.
"You know, talk you through it as we go. Or before we go, if you think you might not be able to concentrate." He gave Sam another kiss, placing his hands on Sam's hips and holding him tight.
Sam nodded, and seemed to think it over. "Which way do you want to do it?" he finally asked.
"If it were up to me? I'd go back in time and tell myself to do this a month ago, so that now I could just slide into you fast and hard." He grinned. "Did your visions at least get us here faster than the first time?"
Sam frowned, looking like he was trying to find the answer. "Took us longer to get to the sex. But the fucking was faster after that."
Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "I wasn't your first, was I?" He made it sound like he was only pretending to be jealous -- but, weirdly, he was.
"You were the first guy who counted," Sam told him, heartfelt.
"How many?" he demanded, unable to stop his smile from getting out. "Anyone I need to go beat up?"
"Dean, it's not like I can call up every little detail that-"
"You get any names, I wanna know." Dean scowled at him. "Especially if he didn't call you the next day."
"Dean..."
"Yeah?"
"Whatever might have happened in some other reality that might only exist inside my head, you're my first in this reality."
"Should it scare me that that doesn't sound weird?" Dean cut off any response Sam might have made by kissing him again. And he considered Sam's question, for real. "How about I talk you through it, and if you need me to shut up just let me know."
"Sounds good." Sam pressed himself close and kissed him again.
The kiss made it hard to remember what Dean wanted to tell him. One hand on the back of Sam's head, one on the small of his back, and a knee in-between Sam's legs and almost every inch of skin that could be pressed against Sam's body, was.
"I.. fuck. First thing we gotta do is get over to the sleeping bags before we do this against the wall."
That made Sam laugh, Dean feeling the sound as much as hearing it, they were pressed so closed. "I'll move if you move."
"Damn." Dean made a show of considering it. "We could do this here...." Except he'd need a third hand, or a table, or something. He gave Sam one more quick kiss then gave him a gentle shove. "Bed. Er, what the fuck ever. Now."
Laughing, Sam crossed the room and sat down on the sleeping bags then turned and gave Dean a comehither look. Never one to refuse Sam... most of the time, Dean went hither.
He stopped at the foot of the bag Sam was sitting on, and Dean glanced over at his own. Still askew, and too far away. He reached down and dragged it over. "You got a preference between on your back, side, or hands and knees?"
Sam opened his mouth, but it was a moment before he finally spoke. "I was going to say whatever way you think is best, but the truth is I want to see you."
Dean nodded, and leaned forward. He dropped the box of lube on the floor beside the sleeping bag, reminding himself to give himself time to get it out of the fucking box when he was ready for it, then moved in to kiss Sam again. He used his body to encourage Sam to lean backwards, pressing against him and trying not to forget what he wanted to do.
Sam went willingly, letting Dean press him back until he was lying flat, spreading his legs so that Dean was cradled between them as they continued kissing.
Dean moaned, and wrestled his hands underneath Sam. One on his back, one on his ass, and he rocked himself against Sam and told himself the whole idea was to go slow. Slow enough he didn't make Sam think this was their worst idea yet.
Of course he'd also told Sam he was going to talk him through this, and he'd apparently forgotten that meant he couldn't keep kissing him. It didn't make it any easier that Sam had wrapped arms and those long legs around him, pulling Dean closer as he rocked up against him.
Well, hell. All he'd wanted to do at this point was get Sam introduced to the idea. A finger or two, and get him off, and for that he didn't need much of anything that he didn't already have going. Dean kept kissing him, and reached over, blindly, for the lube. It took him a few moments to get the box open, and fumble the tube into his hand, but he finally got it and flipped the cap open.
If Sam noticed what he was doing, he didn't give any sign, seeming entirely focused on kissing Dean and moving against him. Dean heartily approved of both -- he had very quickly grown addicted to Sam's kisses, the way he seemed to focus everything on his mouth, like the rest of his body was just on autopilot. It made Dean's entire body come alive; when Sam kissed him like this he knew it would be possible to come from Sam kissing him.
Someday he'd even try it. For right now...he got the tube open and managed to get some lube on his fingers, then scooted the tube far enough away they wouldn't roll over on top of it.
Then he rolled onto his side and moved his hand to Sam's ass. Touched him with the fingers that weren't all lubed up, letting Sam know what he was doing. Sam stilled as he realised, but didn't tense up or pull away. Well, not any further than the few inches that he needed to be able to meet Dean's eyes.
"It's gonna feel weird," Dean said, quietly. Well, then maybe Sam didn't really need to be told, Dean thought. He had no idea just how much of this Sam had remembered in his visions. Instead of debating what else to say, Dean just moved down to suck on his favorite spot on Sam's neck. As Sam gasped, Dean slid a finger inside him.
Sam's eyes widened and he went still again. Dean moved his finger around -- not trying for anything but to let Sam get used to the feel of it. He kept sucking on Sam's neck, keeping him aroused.
"This is weird," Sam said on a half laugh, one hand coming up to stroke the back of Dean's neck. "I... remember what it feels like, but it's different somehow."
"What do you remember?" Dean asked. "Tell me what we did." He continued fucking Sam with his finger, slowly, in and out until Sam's hips were rocking with the motion.
Sam gave another breathless laugh. "Might be easier to tell you what we didn't do. I never knew I was so kinky. You on the other hand, I kinda figured."
That went right to Dean's cock and slammed into his gut, and he shoved his cock against Sam. "Tell me," he whispered, because dear god he had to know. He wanted to hear it, from Sam's mouth, in those hot, breathless gasps.
Sam's eyes fluttered closed. "There was a lot of fucking in public places," he finally offered, voice getting deeper and huskier.
Dean had to fight back the almost-orgasm that hit him. "Sammy," he gasped, trying to sound shocked. "You let me do this to you in public?" He figured it wasn't quite this, and probably not quite public, but the sort of semi-public where someone might wander by but never did.
The thought of making Sam writhe with need, in the dark corner of a bar, jeans unzipped and Dean's hand inside -- maybe a single finger, just like he was doing now -- Dean bit back a cry, and came.
Sam was staring at him, half bemused, half amazed, still pretty much all aroused. "God, you're easy."
Dean didn't try to lift his head and glare at his brother. Instead he focused on breathing until his brain seemed to be working again. Then he said, "Been thinking about having sex with you for a long time. Now you tell me I get to have one of my favorite fantasies? Hell yes, I'm easy."
His heart was pounding, and Dean lay still.
Sam's hand was back at the nape of his neck, toying with the short hairs there. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this but... you pretty much could have any fantasy just for the asking."
That made him stop -- he figured Sam was expecting a freak out, given the way he was rubbing Dean's neck. So he said, "I have a fantasy about you washing my car."
Sam snorted. "Sexual fantasies," he clarified.
"You could be naked," Dean protested, then thought that realistically Sam could be in a swimsuit, and yeah. That would be all right. With Dean sitting nearby with a shotgun to make sure no one who took a look did more than that.
It occured to him that they were having this conversation with Dean's finger still in Sam's ass, so he gave it a wriggle to see how distractable Sam really was.
He heard Sam's breath catch. "Y-you can't tell me that your sexual fantasies revolve around me washing your car," he said, though his voice had a more strained tone to it.
"Can't I?" Dean taunted, and he slipped his finger out, rubbing it against his ring finger to smear the slightly-dried lube there. Before Sam could do anything other than gather himself to glare at Dean, he slipped the tips of both fingers inside Sam.
Sam gasped and arched into the touch. "Dean..."
"You gonna...wash my car for me?" Dean asked, tilting his voice down into the low growl that had never failed to make his lover come. He knew it was nothing compared to the way Sam sounded when he yelled, and Dean made a note to explain that very clearly to Sam, soon, so that Dean could hear more of it. He pushed his fingers in to the first knuckle, then pulled them back out.
Sam whimpered.
"Including the tires," Dean said, working his fingers back in, slowly, not pushing farther than the first time. "Hubcaps," he added, giving Sam a kiss on his shoulder, then lowering his head to kiss his chest, once, twice, working his way down. He slid down Sam's body, kissing his stomach. "Rims," he finished, then he put his mouth on Sam's cock, and slid his fingers all the way inside.
Sam gave a wordless yell, his hips bucking up violently.
Opening his mouth, Dean let Sam's cock fuck him, even as he continued fucking Sam with his fingers. It didn't take long before Sam was shaking and screaming his brother's name as he came down Dean's throat.
He let his fingers still, kept his mouth moving slowly, wringing every last drop from Sam's cock, until Sam was slumped on the floor, boneless. Then he pulled himself up, slipped his fingers from Sam's ass, and reached over to grab the tshirt Sam had dropped earlier. He used it to wipe his hand clean, then tossed it vaguely towards the bathroom.
Sam reached up a hand lazily and tugged on Dean's arm, trying to pull him back down.
"God, you're bossy," Dean muttered, even as he let himself be pulled into place.
Sam wrapped himself around Dean and sighed in contentment. "Thank you," he said softly.
Dean hugged him, mostly one-armed from the way Sam was squished against him. He rubbed one hand down Sam's back, feeling the way Sam was so completely relaxed beside him. Dean's eyes slipped closed and he tried to make himself say 'you're welcome.' Finally he just turned his head and gave Sam a kiss on the temple.
Sam made a sound halfway like a purr and snuggled closer. It made Dean laugh, and he hugged Sam again. Sam's idea of a nap was clearly an excellent one, Dean thought, as long as they got up before anyone arrived to deliver their furniture.
They ought to at least be dressed by then.
But they had all afternoon, which meant they had plenty of time to indulge.
~~~
end part four
on to part five