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gilascavecontinued from part five a
part five b
When they pulled up in front of the house, Dean spared a breath to hope that nobody met them on the way in. He didn't really care if Mrs. Froson or the tiny blonde girl in apartment two caught them -- Dean knew both of them knew exactly what he and Sam were doing with each other. But there was standing in the hallway talking about it, and there was getting Sam into the apartment and naked so Dean could use the toy he'd just bought.
Sam unloaded the trunk of their purchases, handing half the bags to Dean to carry. "The cure for wandering hands," he joked. "Lots of packages."
Dean lifted one eyebrow. "Wait, you don't like wandering hands?"
"They can wander all they want -- once we get inside the apartment. Where we won't get interrupted."
"Bitch, bitch, bitch." Dean followed Sam towards the house, staying back a step so he could stare at Sam's ass. It was a nice change, he found himself thinking. Staring, instead of...not.
"I know what you're doing," Sam told him as they climbed the last stairs up to their apartment. "I can feel you looking."
"You can't feel a person looking," Dean replied, casually. Even if he knew it was a lie -- he'd been on too many hunts where he'd turned around already knowing that the thing he was hunting was staring at him.
Sam shrugged, not bothering to argue the point except to say, "Can feel you."
"So what am I looking at right now?" Dean asked, shifting his gaze to rest on the place where Sam's leg curved into his ass. It was one of Dean's favorite places to hold him, resting his hand when he held his brother close.
"I'd point, but my hands are full of bags," Sam replied. "You'll have to wait until we get inside."
Reaching the top of the stairs, Sam juggled the bags long enough to pull his keys out and unlock the door.
Dean waited patiently, going in and putting his bags down just inside the door. He stood there, pushing the door closed behind him and having that eerie feeling of 'there's stuff here' as he saw the apartment filled with furniture. Mostly his attention stayed on Sam, as he waited to see what Sam would do, to answer his question.
Sam put his bags down then came over to him, taking hold of his wrists and pulling Dean's arms around him. Dean's hands automatically settled in their favourite spots and Sam tapped the one that was sitting just where Dean had been looking. "There," he smirked.
"No fucking way." Dean gaped, tried to stop thinking about the spot he'd been staring at and was now fondling, and managed to do so by glaring at Sam, suspiciously. "You did that with your psychic shit, didn't you?"
"I don't know," Sam said with a shrug. "I've always been able to tell when you're watching me. And most of the time how."
He hadn't seriously thought it was Sam's visions -- but what Sam had said, worried him. "Always?"
Sam nodded. "Pretty much, yeah."
"I'm sorry," Dean blurted. It occurred to him he might try letting go of Sam, but he really didn't want to.
Sam shook his head, looking puzzled. "Why would you be sorry?"
"For, um." He looked down, seeing how close their chests were pressed together and thinking that maybe what he was apologizing for was stupid. "When I started...looking at you. If I made you feel... creeped out or something. Even though I know you like it now," he clarified, because there was a fucking sex toy on the floor half a foot away from where they were standing.
But Dean had started noticing his brother a long time ago. Dean had spent a lot of time trying not to look at Sam's ass, but he had only ever succeeded in learning how to look with no one catching him.
Except now Sam was telling him he'd known?
"The only things you'd ever made me feel by looking at me were valued, protected and loved," Sam assured him, leaning in and giving him a brief kiss. "Promise."
It felt a hell of a lot like being hit with a troll's hammer, and Dean could say that from experience. The room was practically swaying -- or maybe he was, and Sam was just moving with him. "Jesus fuck," Dean breathed, then gulped.
Sam's arms tightened around him. "You're not going to bolt and lock yourself in the bathroom again are you?"
"No," Dean said, then inhaled, and scowled as hard as he could -- which was hardly at all. "I didn't lock myself in the bathroom, dickhead."
Truth be told, he didn't feel like letting go of Sam, at all.
Sam tilted his head acknowledging that. "Hid then."
He couldn't argue with that. And while he could appreciate the need, now, for hiding in the bathroom, Dean didn't want to move. He rested his head on Sam's shoulder and took a deep breath. "Safer here, anyway," he said quietly.
He felt Sam go perfectly still and then draw in a slightly shaky breath. But his voice was steady when he spoke as was the hand that stroked the back of Dean's neck.
"Yeah," Sam said softly. "You are."
Dean raised his head and gave Sam a kiss. "I wanna make love to you," he whispered. "I know we got that stuff to use but I just wanna...." He gave Sam another kiss, taking his mouth quickly.
Sam kissed him back, holding him even tighter. "Whatever you need, Dean," he said when Dean let his mouth go.
Nodding, Dean nudged his brother back, not even bothering with the jokes about needing his car washed or needing his laundry done every week for a year. He'd rather do this, take Sam and undress him slow, and treasure every moment of it like it finally, finally had come together.
Sam didn't protest at all as Dean pulled Sam's shirt up, helping but not doing more than lifting his arms, tilting his head down so Dean could pull the shirt free. Dean splayed his hands on Sam's chest, feeling the heat and thumping of Sam's heart under three of his fingers. He wanted... he wasn't quite sure, but he knew he was going in the right direction.
Sam stayed still, watching him with a gaze that felt like another touch, but not saying or doing anything except letting Dean touch him.
Dean put his hands on Sam's waist, briefly, then quickly undid the fly of his jeans and pushed them down, catching Sam's boxers on the way. He didn't stop to touch, or lean down to nuzzle; he just wanted Sam naked. Crouching down, he pushed Sam's jeans down to his ankles then stopped and helped him slip off first one shoe, then the other. He repeated the one foot process to get Sam's jeans and underwear off, then he stood back up and kissed Sam again.
Sam pressed close against Dean's still clothed body as they kissed, a soft groan rumbling in his chest. Dean started to tell him to go lie down -- when he caught sight of the mattress, sitting right where Sam had designated the "bedroom" to be. He laughed.
"What?" Sam asked, then followed his gaze and his own lips twitched up, dimples appearing. "Are we getting ahead of ourselves?"
"At least we own sheets," Dean said, shaking his head at the mattress -- the totally unmade, bare mattress. He kissed Sam on the collarbone. "Black sheets." He pulled Sam close, and tasted more of his skin.
"It won't take long for you to put them on the bed," Sam pointed out, though he made no move to do so.
"Why am I making the bed?" He did look around for the bag with the sheets in it -- they'd bought a hell of a lot of crap, but finally he spotted them.
"Because if you stand there and watch me make it when I'm naked, it'll never get made," Sam pointed out reasonably.
It only took Dean half a second to realise his brother was right. He snapped his jaw shut from where he'd been gearing up to argue, and nodded. "Don't move," he ordered, and picked up the sheets and headed for the bed.
Sam obediently stayed right where he was, though Dean could feel him watching him as he got the sheets out of the bag and put them on the mattress. After he got the bottom sheet on, he paused and looked over his shoulder, still leaning on the bed on his knees and one hand. He reached back and pointed. "Right there, huh?"
"A little to the left." Sam grinned at him.
"Sammy!" Dean gasped. But he wriggled his ass before he backed up off the mattress and stood -- giving serious consideration to putting the pillowcases on and the top sheet and did he care about anything that was gonna just get in the way?
Well, except Sam might need a pillow or two, he realised, so he grabbed them off the floor -- sticking his ass out for Sam to see -- and continued torturing himself by not having sex already.
He heard plastic rustling behind him and looked to see that Sam had retrieved the bag from the sex shop.
"If the words 'some assembly required' come out of your mouth, then you're fucking me without any toys at all," Dean warned. He tossed the second pillow onto the bed, and began pulling his own clothes off.
"I can truthfully say those words never even crossed my mind," Sam said, watching appreciatively as Dean stripped.
"Good, then get over here and get on the bed." Dean sat down on it himself, to get his shoes off. Sam chuckled as he crossed the room, putting one knee on the bed and then crawling onto it in a way that had Dean forgetting about his shoes. Dean rolled over, ignoring the fact he was still wearing his jeans because it wasn't like he needed to be naked to do what he wanted to do. He moved towards Sam, pushing him back onto the bed and letting himself fall half on top of him, kissing him as they went.
Sam made a soft sound of pleasure, wrapping Dean up in his long limbs as they continued kissing. It would be so easy to just do this, lay here with him and make him come. Sam certainly wouldn't argue. He'd wanted to use the dildo he'd got -- then he hadn't, after Sam had twisted his head and heart around. Now he felt like he had the patience to at least try it, see how far Sam could go with it. Second time being fucked, Dean didn't expect him to take very much.
But the thought of seeing him.... Dean swallowed hard and leaned across Sam to get to the bag. Sam went quiet and still when he heard the bag rustle as Dean picked it up, watching his brother through dark eyes full of arousal and anticipation. Dean grabbed the dildo with one hand, and used the other to grab Sam by the back of the neck, pulling him up and kissing him, hard.
Sam's arms came up around his shoulders, as Sam kissed him back, licking and nipping at Dean's lips as if he wanted to eat him alive.
Dean was perfectly willing to let him. But he managed to slide himself on top of Sam, then finally pushed himself back, sitting on top of Sam's legs and looking down at him.
God, he was so fucking gorgeous, Dean thought. Flushed and aroused and so willing to let Dean do this. Dean tore his attention away from Sam long enough to fumble with the dildo, practically tearing open the box and throwing the smaller box of condoms at Sam. Sam instinctively raised a hand to catch it, then looked at it for a moment before it seemed to dawn on him to open it and get one out. By the time he had one in his hand, Dean was ready for it and he snatched it from Sam. Tearing it open, it only took him a moment to roll it onto the dildo.
"Where the hell is the lube?" Dean looked around, not-quite frantically. Sam reached out and grabbed the bag that Dean had tossed aside, pulling out the lube that was still in it and handed it over. All without saying a word. "Right, smart brother, good job." Dean took it and now -- yeah. Ready.
Now to get Sam ready. He smiled, and felt maybe a little eager -- or possibly predatory, given the way Sam's eyes widened. Sam kind of... wriggled, shifting a little nervously under Dean's gaze.
Dean suddenly realised he was still wearing his jeans. He dropped the dildo and lube on the mattress beside Sam, and stood up where he was.
Sam half sat up, eyes widening. "No-" he began then cut himself off.
Dean stopped, with his hands on his fly. "No, Sam, I--" He dropped back down to his knees, and reached for his brother. "It's all right, just need to get naked. Before I have to say 'sticky pants' at you all night and you won't get any sleep."
He felt bad -- like scum, really. That he'd frightened Sam enough that he was lying there, apparently waiting for Dean to freak out and run off. He gave Sam another kiss, trying to let him know it was okay.
It had better be okay; Sam might not agree to have sex with him ever again if Dean freaked out on him now.
"Sorry," Sam said with a weak smile.
"Hey, don't be sorry," Dean told him, kissing him lightly. "It's not like I didn't give you good reason."
"I shouldn't assume the worst just because you need to get your jeans off," Sam argued, then waved it off. "Whatever. We can fight over whether I should apologise later. More important stuff to do right now."
"You sure? Because fighting could be fun." Dean laughed and stood up again fast, not exactly getting out of Sam's reach but making it so that if Sam tried anything, Dean would fall off the bed and break his neck, then Sam would have to fuck himself with the toy and...
Dean felt his eyes threaten to roll into his head. Which was the whole idea, he reminded himself, as he struggled to get his jeans open and down and off. Not just watching Sam, but watching him use the dildo himself....
Dean didn't know if the noise he made was audible.
Sam chuckled. "I never knew taking your jeans turned you on so much."
"Really not that," Dean said, aiming for casual and falling short by a mile. "Thinking more of backing up off the bed and letting you play with yourself while I watch. See you fucking yourself--" Dean had to stop talking before he came. He kicked his jeans off the bed and knelt down again, over Sam.
Sam swallowed hard. "I could... if you want... You could watch and tell me what you want me to do..."
Dean lost control of his entire head, at that. Eyes bugged out and tongue falling between his lips and his cock was screaming something at him in a language he ought to know.
Sam began to look a little uncertain. "Dean...?"
Someday, definitely. But not this time. Not Sam's first. Dean swooped down and kissed him, instead, once on the mouth then moving quickly to his new favorite spot on Sam's entire body: his neck. He got one hand on Sam's cock, and stroked it, slowly. Sam moaned, one hand coming up to hold Dean's head in place when he hit just the right spot on his neck. Dean sucked at the spot for a moment longer, then gave it a lick and leaned back. This time he kept his eyes on Sam's face, holding his gaze as he reached for the lube.
He spread some on his finger and reached down with his other hand, lifting Sam's leg up. Sam moved willingly as urged by Dean's hands, his gaze never leaving his brother's. Dean pressed the tip of his finger against Sam's asshole, teasing him for a moment.
"So I was thinking," he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. When he had Sam's attention -- enough of it, anyway -- Dean slid his finger inside and said "We might want to re-paint the bathroom."
Sam gasped. "The bathroom?" he asked, in a strained voice, licking his lips.
"Yeah. What color you like?" Dean moved his finger around, easily, then pulled it out and let Sam watch him add some lube to his ring finger.
"I.. uh..." Another lick of the lips, another swallow as his eyes didn't leave Dean's hands. "I haven't given it much thought."
Dean nodded, seriously. Then he put his fingers against Sam's ass again, and began to push, slowly. When he was almost in to the first knuckle, he asked, "What color do you think would be good?"
He figured that eventually Sam would kill him. But for the moment, the conversation was distracting him enough from coming that he could possibly get all the way to using the dildo before he tried slamming his own dick into his brother.
He couldn't do that yet, but it was getting a lot harder to remember that.
Sam groaned. "Can this conversation wait?" he asked in a breathy voice.
Dean frowned slightly, and twisted his fingers, very very slowly, feeling for any sign of too much resistance. "I suppose, if you don't think it's important," he said, frowning. "We could talk about the schedule for who washes the dishes?"
"Dean!" Sam growled at him.
"What?" He slipped his fingers out, added a tiny bit more lube just to be safe, and slid his fingers back in, this time concentrating on getting the lube spread everywhere it needed to go.
Sam tried to glare at him, but the effect was ruined when he gasped and his eyes glazed over with pleasure. "Not. Now," he growled.
"You want me to just shut up and fuck you?" Dean asked, still moving his fingers and making Sam start to writhe a little.
"Yes!"
"Oh. Geez, just say something, Sammy." He pulled his fingers out and picked up the dildo before Sam could get himself launched off the bed and strangle him. Dean lubed up the dildo quickly, and got its tip in place before Sam started calling him names.
Sam went still again, eyes wide. Leaning sideways, Dean gave him a kiss on the inside of his knee, then began to push, just as slowly as he could. A faint frown appeared on Sam's face. "Feels..."
Dean paused. "Yeah?" He was pretty sure Sam wasn't going to say it felt bad.
"Weird."
Snickering, Dean left the dildo where it was to let Sam get used to it. "You'll say something if it gets too weird?" he asked. He didn't think Sam would stay quiet if he didn't like something -- god knew he hadn't stayed quiet about stuff he didn't like his entire life, so why would he start now?
He looked down at the dildo, breaching Sam's body. It was only in about an inch; Dean swallowed hard and felt his dick throb. He wanted to shove it in, the rest of the way -- but pretty much he could leave it right where it was and jerk off and it would be worth it even if Sam decided he didn't want to use the toy anymore.
"I will." Sam sounded distracted. He shifted his hips slightly. "It's a good weird, I think."
Grinning, Dean wondered what Sam would be saying when the dildo got in far enough. Assuming he'd be speaking English so Dean could understand him. "You ready for a little more?"
He got a quick emphatic nod for an answer. Dean gave Sam's thigh a quick, reassuring rub, then looked down at the dildo. He pressed in, still slowly but not quite as torturously slow as before. Another half inch, then he dragged his gaze up to check Sam's face.
Sam still looked distracted, obviously focused entirely on the sensation. "Keep going."
Dean kept inserting the dildo, torn between watching it -- fuck Sam, fucking Sam, sliding inside him and Dean had to wrench his attention back to Sam's face to make sure this was still okay, and because he really wanted to see him react. When it was in far enough, Dean angled it slightly and pushed a little bit more.
There was no mistaking when he got the angle just right. Sam's entire body jerked and he gasped loudly. Dean watched his brother's face as he pulled the dildo back a little then pushed it back in. "You all right?" he asked, smirking slightly, and trying to control his own gasp of sharp arousal.
"Do that again," Sam ordered.
Dean snapped his jaw shut and did it again.
Sam groaned, his hips starting to move in concert with Dean's hand. "More," he said breathlessly.
Dean nodded, even though Sam wasn't looking at him. Dean moved his hand faster, and as soon as he slipped into a good rhythm, he looked down. "Oh god." His cock reacted like it was thrusting into Sam -- Dean's hips jerked and he dropped his head, reaching out blind with his free hand to brace himself. It landed on Sam's thigh, and he squeezed hard, and kept fucking his brother.
He couldn't take his eyes off the sight, and the low, desperate moan he felt in his chest was making it hard to hold himself back.
Sam seemed to be completely losing himself. His hands were bunched tightly in the sheets and was actively pushing back against the dildo, trying to get more of it. He was panting for air and making these little abandoned sounds that went straight to Dean's cock.
"More," Sam demanded again.
Dean could barely hold on; but he kept his grip, kept fucking Sam -- hard and fast, now. "Oh, god," he breathed, and he wanted to come, so badly. He wanted--
He looked around, spotted the lube, and grabbed it. Flipped the tube open and kept fucking Sam with the dildo in one hand, with the other -- he hoped it was enough. Enough lube, enough stretching, and as soon as he could, he pulled the dildo completely out. Sam made a wordless protest at its loss.
Dean pulled Sam's legs up, and shifted forward the necessary few inches, then slid himself inside.
That shut Sam up. He froze, his wide dark eyes seeking out Dean's face. "Dean...?" he whispered, as if seeking confirmation.
He couldn't answer -- couldn't form words, only groan, long and hard. Dean felt himself encased, felt his brother beneath him, around his cock, and his hands were flat on the bed, arms shaking. "Oh god," he whispered again. "Sammy..." He heard his voice break and his hips jerked forward.
He felt the shudder that went through Sam's body in reaction, then Sam was reaching for him, wrapping his arms around him and trying to pull him down, pull him closer.
Dean went, bending as far as he could and never stopping his thrusts. Pounding into Sam, he gasped, and tried to turn his head to find something of Sam to kiss. The harsh panting of his breath made it impossible to close his mouth on Sam's skin, and he fucked Sam harder, driving them both up the bed as he felt something inside him claw free.
He shouted, strangled and broken, as he continued fucking Sam; pressing his face into Sam's shoulder, the scent of musk and sweat and Sam filling his head.
"Sammy..." Dean gasped, trying to hang on to nothing.
But Sam was holding onto him, fingers closed around Dean's arms hard enough that there were going to be bruises tomorrow. "Dean," he panted, then said it again, repeating his brother's name like a mantra.
Every time he slammed in, Dean cried out. Sammy's name, prayers to things he couldn't name, wordless cries that never quite managed to say what he was feeling. But it didn't matter; he was fucking Sam, and he was pressed down on him, and he was coming, so hard, and his world began to explode.
The next thing he knew he was lying on top of Sam, exhausted and just a little bit confused. Sam had his arms wrapped tightly around him and his head turned and buried against Dean's neck. Dean didn't try to move -- he didn't want to move, ever. Just die, right where he was.
He did manage to scrape together enough brain cells and air molecules to make an inquisitive noise, to let Sam know he wasn't actually completely dead.
If it sounded more desolate than curious, Dean didn't think about it. If anything Sam hugged him tighter. But other than that, he didn't move either.
After another moment, Dean decided to see if he could do something complicated, like take a deep breath. He had to turn his head a little, but after a couple tries, he managed it. The oxygen seemed to help, and he pried his eyes open and looked at Sam.
Sam was smiling faintly, expression open, eyes unguarded, and what Dean could see there took his breath away. Whatever he might have said was stolen, caught in Sam's eyes. He couldn't even move close enough to kiss him, just lie there and stare.
There was a tremor in the back of his head, that this was something wrong. Something bad, the thing he'd told himself over and over he could never, ever have. A thousand reasons, a dozen scratched in the inside of his skull so often that he didn't even need to see the words to know what they said.
He could barely see them, faced with the look in his brother's eyes.
He closed his eyes and buried his head in the crook of Sam's neck, and felt the air shudder out of his lungs. He wrapped his arms as tightly around his brother as they could go, and held on.
the end
part five b
When they pulled up in front of the house, Dean spared a breath to hope that nobody met them on the way in. He didn't really care if Mrs. Froson or the tiny blonde girl in apartment two caught them -- Dean knew both of them knew exactly what he and Sam were doing with each other. But there was standing in the hallway talking about it, and there was getting Sam into the apartment and naked so Dean could use the toy he'd just bought.
Sam unloaded the trunk of their purchases, handing half the bags to Dean to carry. "The cure for wandering hands," he joked. "Lots of packages."
Dean lifted one eyebrow. "Wait, you don't like wandering hands?"
"They can wander all they want -- once we get inside the apartment. Where we won't get interrupted."
"Bitch, bitch, bitch." Dean followed Sam towards the house, staying back a step so he could stare at Sam's ass. It was a nice change, he found himself thinking. Staring, instead of...not.
"I know what you're doing," Sam told him as they climbed the last stairs up to their apartment. "I can feel you looking."
"You can't feel a person looking," Dean replied, casually. Even if he knew it was a lie -- he'd been on too many hunts where he'd turned around already knowing that the thing he was hunting was staring at him.
Sam shrugged, not bothering to argue the point except to say, "Can feel you."
"So what am I looking at right now?" Dean asked, shifting his gaze to rest on the place where Sam's leg curved into his ass. It was one of Dean's favorite places to hold him, resting his hand when he held his brother close.
"I'd point, but my hands are full of bags," Sam replied. "You'll have to wait until we get inside."
Reaching the top of the stairs, Sam juggled the bags long enough to pull his keys out and unlock the door.
Dean waited patiently, going in and putting his bags down just inside the door. He stood there, pushing the door closed behind him and having that eerie feeling of 'there's stuff here' as he saw the apartment filled with furniture. Mostly his attention stayed on Sam, as he waited to see what Sam would do, to answer his question.
Sam put his bags down then came over to him, taking hold of his wrists and pulling Dean's arms around him. Dean's hands automatically settled in their favourite spots and Sam tapped the one that was sitting just where Dean had been looking. "There," he smirked.
"No fucking way." Dean gaped, tried to stop thinking about the spot he'd been staring at and was now fondling, and managed to do so by glaring at Sam, suspiciously. "You did that with your psychic shit, didn't you?"
"I don't know," Sam said with a shrug. "I've always been able to tell when you're watching me. And most of the time how."
He hadn't seriously thought it was Sam's visions -- but what Sam had said, worried him. "Always?"
Sam nodded. "Pretty much, yeah."
"I'm sorry," Dean blurted. It occurred to him he might try letting go of Sam, but he really didn't want to.
Sam shook his head, looking puzzled. "Why would you be sorry?"
"For, um." He looked down, seeing how close their chests were pressed together and thinking that maybe what he was apologizing for was stupid. "When I started...looking at you. If I made you feel... creeped out or something. Even though I know you like it now," he clarified, because there was a fucking sex toy on the floor half a foot away from where they were standing.
But Dean had started noticing his brother a long time ago. Dean had spent a lot of time trying not to look at Sam's ass, but he had only ever succeeded in learning how to look with no one catching him.
Except now Sam was telling him he'd known?
"The only things you'd ever made me feel by looking at me were valued, protected and loved," Sam assured him, leaning in and giving him a brief kiss. "Promise."
It felt a hell of a lot like being hit with a troll's hammer, and Dean could say that from experience. The room was practically swaying -- or maybe he was, and Sam was just moving with him. "Jesus fuck," Dean breathed, then gulped.
Sam's arms tightened around him. "You're not going to bolt and lock yourself in the bathroom again are you?"
"No," Dean said, then inhaled, and scowled as hard as he could -- which was hardly at all. "I didn't lock myself in the bathroom, dickhead."
Truth be told, he didn't feel like letting go of Sam, at all.
Sam tilted his head acknowledging that. "Hid then."
He couldn't argue with that. And while he could appreciate the need, now, for hiding in the bathroom, Dean didn't want to move. He rested his head on Sam's shoulder and took a deep breath. "Safer here, anyway," he said quietly.
He felt Sam go perfectly still and then draw in a slightly shaky breath. But his voice was steady when he spoke as was the hand that stroked the back of Dean's neck.
"Yeah," Sam said softly. "You are."
Dean raised his head and gave Sam a kiss. "I wanna make love to you," he whispered. "I know we got that stuff to use but I just wanna...." He gave Sam another kiss, taking his mouth quickly.
Sam kissed him back, holding him even tighter. "Whatever you need, Dean," he said when Dean let his mouth go.
Nodding, Dean nudged his brother back, not even bothering with the jokes about needing his car washed or needing his laundry done every week for a year. He'd rather do this, take Sam and undress him slow, and treasure every moment of it like it finally, finally had come together.
Sam didn't protest at all as Dean pulled Sam's shirt up, helping but not doing more than lifting his arms, tilting his head down so Dean could pull the shirt free. Dean splayed his hands on Sam's chest, feeling the heat and thumping of Sam's heart under three of his fingers. He wanted... he wasn't quite sure, but he knew he was going in the right direction.
Sam stayed still, watching him with a gaze that felt like another touch, but not saying or doing anything except letting Dean touch him.
Dean put his hands on Sam's waist, briefly, then quickly undid the fly of his jeans and pushed them down, catching Sam's boxers on the way. He didn't stop to touch, or lean down to nuzzle; he just wanted Sam naked. Crouching down, he pushed Sam's jeans down to his ankles then stopped and helped him slip off first one shoe, then the other. He repeated the one foot process to get Sam's jeans and underwear off, then he stood back up and kissed Sam again.
Sam pressed close against Dean's still clothed body as they kissed, a soft groan rumbling in his chest. Dean started to tell him to go lie down -- when he caught sight of the mattress, sitting right where Sam had designated the "bedroom" to be. He laughed.
"What?" Sam asked, then followed his gaze and his own lips twitched up, dimples appearing. "Are we getting ahead of ourselves?"
"At least we own sheets," Dean said, shaking his head at the mattress -- the totally unmade, bare mattress. He kissed Sam on the collarbone. "Black sheets." He pulled Sam close, and tasted more of his skin.
"It won't take long for you to put them on the bed," Sam pointed out, though he made no move to do so.
"Why am I making the bed?" He did look around for the bag with the sheets in it -- they'd bought a hell of a lot of crap, but finally he spotted them.
"Because if you stand there and watch me make it when I'm naked, it'll never get made," Sam pointed out reasonably.
It only took Dean half a second to realise his brother was right. He snapped his jaw shut from where he'd been gearing up to argue, and nodded. "Don't move," he ordered, and picked up the sheets and headed for the bed.
Sam obediently stayed right where he was, though Dean could feel him watching him as he got the sheets out of the bag and put them on the mattress. After he got the bottom sheet on, he paused and looked over his shoulder, still leaning on the bed on his knees and one hand. He reached back and pointed. "Right there, huh?"
"A little to the left." Sam grinned at him.
"Sammy!" Dean gasped. But he wriggled his ass before he backed up off the mattress and stood -- giving serious consideration to putting the pillowcases on and the top sheet and did he care about anything that was gonna just get in the way?
Well, except Sam might need a pillow or two, he realised, so he grabbed them off the floor -- sticking his ass out for Sam to see -- and continued torturing himself by not having sex already.
He heard plastic rustling behind him and looked to see that Sam had retrieved the bag from the sex shop.
"If the words 'some assembly required' come out of your mouth, then you're fucking me without any toys at all," Dean warned. He tossed the second pillow onto the bed, and began pulling his own clothes off.
"I can truthfully say those words never even crossed my mind," Sam said, watching appreciatively as Dean stripped.
"Good, then get over here and get on the bed." Dean sat down on it himself, to get his shoes off. Sam chuckled as he crossed the room, putting one knee on the bed and then crawling onto it in a way that had Dean forgetting about his shoes. Dean rolled over, ignoring the fact he was still wearing his jeans because it wasn't like he needed to be naked to do what he wanted to do. He moved towards Sam, pushing him back onto the bed and letting himself fall half on top of him, kissing him as they went.
Sam made a soft sound of pleasure, wrapping Dean up in his long limbs as they continued kissing. It would be so easy to just do this, lay here with him and make him come. Sam certainly wouldn't argue. He'd wanted to use the dildo he'd got -- then he hadn't, after Sam had twisted his head and heart around. Now he felt like he had the patience to at least try it, see how far Sam could go with it. Second time being fucked, Dean didn't expect him to take very much.
But the thought of seeing him.... Dean swallowed hard and leaned across Sam to get to the bag. Sam went quiet and still when he heard the bag rustle as Dean picked it up, watching his brother through dark eyes full of arousal and anticipation. Dean grabbed the dildo with one hand, and used the other to grab Sam by the back of the neck, pulling him up and kissing him, hard.
Sam's arms came up around his shoulders, as Sam kissed him back, licking and nipping at Dean's lips as if he wanted to eat him alive.
Dean was perfectly willing to let him. But he managed to slide himself on top of Sam, then finally pushed himself back, sitting on top of Sam's legs and looking down at him.
God, he was so fucking gorgeous, Dean thought. Flushed and aroused and so willing to let Dean do this. Dean tore his attention away from Sam long enough to fumble with the dildo, practically tearing open the box and throwing the smaller box of condoms at Sam. Sam instinctively raised a hand to catch it, then looked at it for a moment before it seemed to dawn on him to open it and get one out. By the time he had one in his hand, Dean was ready for it and he snatched it from Sam. Tearing it open, it only took him a moment to roll it onto the dildo.
"Where the hell is the lube?" Dean looked around, not-quite frantically. Sam reached out and grabbed the bag that Dean had tossed aside, pulling out the lube that was still in it and handed it over. All without saying a word. "Right, smart brother, good job." Dean took it and now -- yeah. Ready.
Now to get Sam ready. He smiled, and felt maybe a little eager -- or possibly predatory, given the way Sam's eyes widened. Sam kind of... wriggled, shifting a little nervously under Dean's gaze.
Dean suddenly realised he was still wearing his jeans. He dropped the dildo and lube on the mattress beside Sam, and stood up where he was.
Sam half sat up, eyes widening. "No-" he began then cut himself off.
Dean stopped, with his hands on his fly. "No, Sam, I--" He dropped back down to his knees, and reached for his brother. "It's all right, just need to get naked. Before I have to say 'sticky pants' at you all night and you won't get any sleep."
He felt bad -- like scum, really. That he'd frightened Sam enough that he was lying there, apparently waiting for Dean to freak out and run off. He gave Sam another kiss, trying to let him know it was okay.
It had better be okay; Sam might not agree to have sex with him ever again if Dean freaked out on him now.
"Sorry," Sam said with a weak smile.
"Hey, don't be sorry," Dean told him, kissing him lightly. "It's not like I didn't give you good reason."
"I shouldn't assume the worst just because you need to get your jeans off," Sam argued, then waved it off. "Whatever. We can fight over whether I should apologise later. More important stuff to do right now."
"You sure? Because fighting could be fun." Dean laughed and stood up again fast, not exactly getting out of Sam's reach but making it so that if Sam tried anything, Dean would fall off the bed and break his neck, then Sam would have to fuck himself with the toy and...
Dean felt his eyes threaten to roll into his head. Which was the whole idea, he reminded himself, as he struggled to get his jeans open and down and off. Not just watching Sam, but watching him use the dildo himself....
Dean didn't know if the noise he made was audible.
Sam chuckled. "I never knew taking your jeans turned you on so much."
"Really not that," Dean said, aiming for casual and falling short by a mile. "Thinking more of backing up off the bed and letting you play with yourself while I watch. See you fucking yourself--" Dean had to stop talking before he came. He kicked his jeans off the bed and knelt down again, over Sam.
Sam swallowed hard. "I could... if you want... You could watch and tell me what you want me to do..."
Dean lost control of his entire head, at that. Eyes bugged out and tongue falling between his lips and his cock was screaming something at him in a language he ought to know.
Sam began to look a little uncertain. "Dean...?"
Someday, definitely. But not this time. Not Sam's first. Dean swooped down and kissed him, instead, once on the mouth then moving quickly to his new favorite spot on Sam's entire body: his neck. He got one hand on Sam's cock, and stroked it, slowly. Sam moaned, one hand coming up to hold Dean's head in place when he hit just the right spot on his neck. Dean sucked at the spot for a moment longer, then gave it a lick and leaned back. This time he kept his eyes on Sam's face, holding his gaze as he reached for the lube.
He spread some on his finger and reached down with his other hand, lifting Sam's leg up. Sam moved willingly as urged by Dean's hands, his gaze never leaving his brother's. Dean pressed the tip of his finger against Sam's asshole, teasing him for a moment.
"So I was thinking," he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. When he had Sam's attention -- enough of it, anyway -- Dean slid his finger inside and said "We might want to re-paint the bathroom."
Sam gasped. "The bathroom?" he asked, in a strained voice, licking his lips.
"Yeah. What color you like?" Dean moved his finger around, easily, then pulled it out and let Sam watch him add some lube to his ring finger.
"I.. uh..." Another lick of the lips, another swallow as his eyes didn't leave Dean's hands. "I haven't given it much thought."
Dean nodded, seriously. Then he put his fingers against Sam's ass again, and began to push, slowly. When he was almost in to the first knuckle, he asked, "What color do you think would be good?"
He figured that eventually Sam would kill him. But for the moment, the conversation was distracting him enough from coming that he could possibly get all the way to using the dildo before he tried slamming his own dick into his brother.
He couldn't do that yet, but it was getting a lot harder to remember that.
Sam groaned. "Can this conversation wait?" he asked in a breathy voice.
Dean frowned slightly, and twisted his fingers, very very slowly, feeling for any sign of too much resistance. "I suppose, if you don't think it's important," he said, frowning. "We could talk about the schedule for who washes the dishes?"
"Dean!" Sam growled at him.
"What?" He slipped his fingers out, added a tiny bit more lube just to be safe, and slid his fingers back in, this time concentrating on getting the lube spread everywhere it needed to go.
Sam tried to glare at him, but the effect was ruined when he gasped and his eyes glazed over with pleasure. "Not. Now," he growled.
"You want me to just shut up and fuck you?" Dean asked, still moving his fingers and making Sam start to writhe a little.
"Yes!"
"Oh. Geez, just say something, Sammy." He pulled his fingers out and picked up the dildo before Sam could get himself launched off the bed and strangle him. Dean lubed up the dildo quickly, and got its tip in place before Sam started calling him names.
Sam went still again, eyes wide. Leaning sideways, Dean gave him a kiss on the inside of his knee, then began to push, just as slowly as he could. A faint frown appeared on Sam's face. "Feels..."
Dean paused. "Yeah?" He was pretty sure Sam wasn't going to say it felt bad.
"Weird."
Snickering, Dean left the dildo where it was to let Sam get used to it. "You'll say something if it gets too weird?" he asked. He didn't think Sam would stay quiet if he didn't like something -- god knew he hadn't stayed quiet about stuff he didn't like his entire life, so why would he start now?
He looked down at the dildo, breaching Sam's body. It was only in about an inch; Dean swallowed hard and felt his dick throb. He wanted to shove it in, the rest of the way -- but pretty much he could leave it right where it was and jerk off and it would be worth it even if Sam decided he didn't want to use the toy anymore.
"I will." Sam sounded distracted. He shifted his hips slightly. "It's a good weird, I think."
Grinning, Dean wondered what Sam would be saying when the dildo got in far enough. Assuming he'd be speaking English so Dean could understand him. "You ready for a little more?"
He got a quick emphatic nod for an answer. Dean gave Sam's thigh a quick, reassuring rub, then looked down at the dildo. He pressed in, still slowly but not quite as torturously slow as before. Another half inch, then he dragged his gaze up to check Sam's face.
Sam still looked distracted, obviously focused entirely on the sensation. "Keep going."
Dean kept inserting the dildo, torn between watching it -- fuck Sam, fucking Sam, sliding inside him and Dean had to wrench his attention back to Sam's face to make sure this was still okay, and because he really wanted to see him react. When it was in far enough, Dean angled it slightly and pushed a little bit more.
There was no mistaking when he got the angle just right. Sam's entire body jerked and he gasped loudly. Dean watched his brother's face as he pulled the dildo back a little then pushed it back in. "You all right?" he asked, smirking slightly, and trying to control his own gasp of sharp arousal.
"Do that again," Sam ordered.
Dean snapped his jaw shut and did it again.
Sam groaned, his hips starting to move in concert with Dean's hand. "More," he said breathlessly.
Dean nodded, even though Sam wasn't looking at him. Dean moved his hand faster, and as soon as he slipped into a good rhythm, he looked down. "Oh god." His cock reacted like it was thrusting into Sam -- Dean's hips jerked and he dropped his head, reaching out blind with his free hand to brace himself. It landed on Sam's thigh, and he squeezed hard, and kept fucking his brother.
He couldn't take his eyes off the sight, and the low, desperate moan he felt in his chest was making it hard to hold himself back.
Sam seemed to be completely losing himself. His hands were bunched tightly in the sheets and was actively pushing back against the dildo, trying to get more of it. He was panting for air and making these little abandoned sounds that went straight to Dean's cock.
"More," Sam demanded again.
Dean could barely hold on; but he kept his grip, kept fucking Sam -- hard and fast, now. "Oh, god," he breathed, and he wanted to come, so badly. He wanted--
He looked around, spotted the lube, and grabbed it. Flipped the tube open and kept fucking Sam with the dildo in one hand, with the other -- he hoped it was enough. Enough lube, enough stretching, and as soon as he could, he pulled the dildo completely out. Sam made a wordless protest at its loss.
Dean pulled Sam's legs up, and shifted forward the necessary few inches, then slid himself inside.
That shut Sam up. He froze, his wide dark eyes seeking out Dean's face. "Dean...?" he whispered, as if seeking confirmation.
He couldn't answer -- couldn't form words, only groan, long and hard. Dean felt himself encased, felt his brother beneath him, around his cock, and his hands were flat on the bed, arms shaking. "Oh god," he whispered again. "Sammy..." He heard his voice break and his hips jerked forward.
He felt the shudder that went through Sam's body in reaction, then Sam was reaching for him, wrapping his arms around him and trying to pull him down, pull him closer.
Dean went, bending as far as he could and never stopping his thrusts. Pounding into Sam, he gasped, and tried to turn his head to find something of Sam to kiss. The harsh panting of his breath made it impossible to close his mouth on Sam's skin, and he fucked Sam harder, driving them both up the bed as he felt something inside him claw free.
He shouted, strangled and broken, as he continued fucking Sam; pressing his face into Sam's shoulder, the scent of musk and sweat and Sam filling his head.
"Sammy..." Dean gasped, trying to hang on to nothing.
But Sam was holding onto him, fingers closed around Dean's arms hard enough that there were going to be bruises tomorrow. "Dean," he panted, then said it again, repeating his brother's name like a mantra.
Every time he slammed in, Dean cried out. Sammy's name, prayers to things he couldn't name, wordless cries that never quite managed to say what he was feeling. But it didn't matter; he was fucking Sam, and he was pressed down on him, and he was coming, so hard, and his world began to explode.
The next thing he knew he was lying on top of Sam, exhausted and just a little bit confused. Sam had his arms wrapped tightly around him and his head turned and buried against Dean's neck. Dean didn't try to move -- he didn't want to move, ever. Just die, right where he was.
He did manage to scrape together enough brain cells and air molecules to make an inquisitive noise, to let Sam know he wasn't actually completely dead.
If it sounded more desolate than curious, Dean didn't think about it. If anything Sam hugged him tighter. But other than that, he didn't move either.
After another moment, Dean decided to see if he could do something complicated, like take a deep breath. He had to turn his head a little, but after a couple tries, he managed it. The oxygen seemed to help, and he pried his eyes open and looked at Sam.
Sam was smiling faintly, expression open, eyes unguarded, and what Dean could see there took his breath away. Whatever he might have said was stolen, caught in Sam's eyes. He couldn't even move close enough to kiss him, just lie there and stare.
There was a tremor in the back of his head, that this was something wrong. Something bad, the thing he'd told himself over and over he could never, ever have. A thousand reasons, a dozen scratched in the inside of his skull so often that he didn't even need to see the words to know what they said.
He could barely see them, faced with the look in his brother's eyes.
He closed his eyes and buried his head in the crook of Sam's neck, and felt the air shudder out of his lungs. He wrapped his arms as tightly around his brother as they could go, and held on.
the end