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Yeah...I don't even know.
So, I wanted to write a s6 wincest fic, then it turned out that wincest wouldn't really work, so this came out instead. Basically, Sam wants to resume their previous sexual relationship but Dean doesn't.
It's probably going to come across like I think Sam's a douchebag. Heh... Okay, so I do, but I swear the fic wasn't written with that in mind. I was trying to take how I see their personalities in s6, and then just add a sexual dimension in (because I just can't resist!) So, if Sam seems like he's all entitled when it comes to fucking Dean, that's because I believe he's acted like that in terms of getting Dean back into hunting.
Also, astonishingly (!), I've tried to explore Sam's perspective. Because I do want to understand him, and I do want to stop being mad with him!
All that being said, Sam's still gonna come across as a douchebag. Sorry. Hey, blame the show, not me... :P
Jesus, what a load of babbling. I hope for your sake that you skipped right ahead to the fake cut!!!!
Mine First
Dean stilled as Sam walked up close behind him, back muscles tensing almost painfully as his personal space was invaded. He’d nearly forgotten just how much room Sam could take up, how surrounded he could feel.
He closed his eyes as his brother nudged from uncomfortable to inappropriate, chest brushing shoulder blades and hips close enough for Dean to feel the heat.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”
“What?” asked Sam evenly, not backing away in spite of the waves of tension he could feel emanating from Dean.
“Did you think I was just gonna fall back into your bed?”
“Doesn’t have to be a bed,” replied Sam, but the joke fell flat. Mostly because Dean was pretty sure that he was serious. He wondered just how his brother had become so entitled, and figured that it was probably his fault for always giving into him. Just like when he walked out of Lisa’s house and returned to the hunting life.
Dean sighed and turned around, crossing his arms over his chest and staring flatly at Sam until his brother took a reluctant half-step backwards.
“You leave me in misery for a year, supposedly for my own good. Then decide that actually you want me back, so you drag me into hunting again, forcing me to work with these assholes you keep calling “family”. And to top it off, you want me to cheat on Lisa? Fuck, you’re a piece of work.”
Sam looked incredulous for a moment, then shook his head, bitterly amused. “Is that what you’re calling it? Cheating? You say that like you weren’t mine first.”
“Yeah, and you made me promise to move on. I know that you’ve changed your mind all of a sudden, but I’m pretty much done pandering to your whims, little brother.”
“You’re not a whim, Dean. I never stopped wanting you,” argued Sam, looking intently at his brother. Still so fucking beautiful, and it burned that he was acting like he belonged to someone else. Sure, Sam had forced himself to back off for the year and leave Dean to his new life, but he’d had to fight his instincts and desires every step of the way. And now he was just done. Dean had proven that Sam was more important to him than the whole white picket fence gig the second he’d dragged the tarp off the Impala. Hell, the second he’d woken up and assumed he was in Heaven because Sam was there.
And it was damned lucky that Lisa was a smart girl and had let him return to Sam without a fight. Otherwise things might have become unpleasant.
“And I know you want me too.”
Dean shook his head. “Sam, I love you; that’s never gonna change, no matter what you do. But I don’t think you have any idea how much I dislike you right now. I don’t want to be close to you, I don’t even really wanna talk to you, and I sure as hell don’t want to fuck you. So, back off.”
Sam barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes; Dean had always been a bit of a drama queen, now that he thought about it; he overreacted to everything he saw as a rejection, just like when Sam had gone to Stanford. It wasn’t that Sam didn’t get why Dean was upset: he did. He just didn’t see why he couldn’t get the hell over it already. Shit happened.
And it wasn’t like Dean wouldn’t be hard and panting for it within seconds, if he actually let Sam get close enough to touch, which was probably why he was being so defensive.
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Dean asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows.
“I said no. I’m not gonna back off. ‘Cause you know what? I’m done pandering to you too. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not really little Sammy anymore, and I’m not gonna let you start bossing me around again.”
Dean stared at his brother. His huge, marble statue of a brother. Sam didn’t seem angry, just coolly certain of himself and completely intractable. It didn’t make Dean nervous, but it did throw him off balance, and he realised in a blinding flash that he just didn’t know this version of Sam. He had absolutely no idea how he was going to react to any situation.
“No? No, you’re not going to respect my boundaries?” clarified Dean, almost cringing when the words came out of his mouth. Fuck, had he really turned into a suburban, middle class douchebag? He plowed on nevertheless. “So, what? Huh, Sam? You gonna force me? Bit ballsy to do it right here in Camp Campbell. Unless of course you’ve told them all about you and me? Guess you might have slipped it in there when you were spilling all my secrets about Hell.”
“It wasn’t like that,” cut in Sam with a sigh. He was still mad with Christian for mentioning the torture to Dean and basically attacking him with it; he’d described it in a different context, trying to convey just what Dean had suffered. But he was still aware that it hadn’t been his tale to tell. “And no, of course I’m not going to force you.”
Even though I could, he didn’t add, although they both knew it anyway. Dean might have been a match for Sam a year ago, and he probably would be again, but at the moment he wasn’t. Especially not right now, weighed down by his tortured emotions.
“But, Dean...I don’t want this to be grudge-fucking. But if that’s all I can get, I’ll take it.”
“Jesus Christ, are you even listening to me? There’s not gonna be any fucking! Though there’s sure as hell gonna be a grudge if you don’t let this go.”
Sam shook his head dismissively, suddenly stepping up close to Dean, crowding him back against the table. “You know it’ll happen, one way or the other. Why don’t you stop wasting our time?”
Dean practically growled, his voice rumbling in his throat. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“You know, I’ve been paying whores this last year?” said Sam conversationally, completely ignoring him. “Yeah, despite everything I ever said about it. You know why I do that? Because even one-night hook-ups want something from me – either affection or at least a back-story, some kind of normal human display of emotion. But I can’t give that to anyone else, not anymore. I don’t even want to.”
“So, what are you saying? I’m convenient because you don’t have to snuggle afterwards? Nice, Sam.”
“No, Dean,” replied Sam patiently, as if explaining something to a simpleton. “I’m saying that you’re the only thing left I care about. I can’t even be bothered to pretend with other people.”
Dean didn’t know how to respond; something was so broken inside his brother. And, in all honesty, he wasn’t sure that he was up to the job of fixing him. He wasn’t exactly a poster child for stability and well-adjustedness himself, no matter how hard he’d tried with Lisa and Ben, and he hadn’t recovered from the fact that he’d spent a year in grief and agony. A year that, as it turned out, he could have been spared by the people he loved the most. But no: Sam and Bobby – and, hell, even Cas – had left him to his suffering. And, yeah, he could admit it: he resented the hell out of them for it.
Sam wished now that he’d made a move on Dean right after their reunion; at that point, he’d been so shell-shocked and grateful that he’d have just blindly done whatever Sam wanted. But he’d had time to process, and get angry, and he was too damned stubborn to just give in, even if he wanted to. And Sam just didn’t have the patience for his bullshit.
Sam pushed himself tight to Dean, levering a leg in between his thighs and leaving it so that he had no choice but to sit his ass down on the table. He snatched his brother’s wrists as he raised his hands warningly, ready to give a hefty shove. Pressing close, lips ghosting over Dean’s pulse point as he defiantly turned his head away, Sam felt the warmth of the other man seep into his bones. His own cock stirred, lust ignited by the feel and smell and sight of Dean, and he nudged the growing arousal against Dean’s own crotch.
Dean was practically vibrating out of his own skin, hot and cold racing confusingly through his body and his spine crawling. His fists were clenching, but he didn’t want to hurt Sam if he didn’t have to, so instead of lashing out he whispered fiercely, “I don’t want this.”
“Yeah. You do.”
Frustrated, enraged, not so far from horny that he couldn’t feel blood flowing south, Dean wrestled his hands free and lashed out, sending Sam stumbling back. When his brother appeared determined to return, he held up his hand, glaring threateningly. “You keep your goddamned distance. I told you no, and I meant it. What the fuck is wrong with you, Sam? What happened to you in Hell that makes you think this is okay?”
Sam rolled his eyes disdainfully. “Are you still stuck on Hell? God, Dean, how many times to I have to tell you that I’m over it?”
Incensed yet again by the implication that Dean was making some huge drama about his thirty fucking years of continual torment – followed by a ten years that had been incomparably worse in the ways that mattered – Dean muttered, “Yeah, maybe ‘cause you actually spent about five fuckin’ minutes down there.”
“What did you say?” asked Sam, voice dropping to an altogether more dangerous register. He looked on the verge of being furious, but also wryly amused, his face horribly reminiscent of Lucifer for one terrifying second.
“You heard me. I spent a year torturing myself about what you must be going through, but...you weren’t, were you? You came back almost straight away, so maybe it is just a little easier for you to get over your time in the Pit.”
Dean flinched back reflexively as Sam was suddenly all up in his face, unexpectedly intent and barely concealing his wrath. “You have no idea what happened to me in that damned cage, so shut the fuck up. I was trapped with two of the most powerful, vengeful beings ever created – and I wasn’t exactly high on their Christmas list. Don’t assume that I had it easy just because I don’t want to spend my time crying about it.”
Although he felt a flash of guilt, Dean couldn’t just let it go. This was the closest Sam had come to talking about Hell, and Dean didn’t want to let the opportunity pass him by. “Did they offer you a deal, Sammy?”
“What?”
“Every day Alistair asked me to pick up the knife. And yeah, I was weak, and eventually I said yes. Not like Dad; he never broke. But what about you? ‘Cause you know what, little brother? With the way you’re acting right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d got yourself off that rack the first damned day. What’s a little torture, if it gets you easier time? I mean, they’re damned souls and they probably deserve it. Right?”
Sam’s face was inscrutable, corner of his mouth just tugging up in a mean little smile. “Is that what you think?”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t you set me straight?”
Sam smiled a little broader then. “Why? Because I don’t really care what you believe. But since you’re so curious, there was no rack. No offer. It was called Lucifer’s cage for a reason, genius. Just me, the Devil and a pissed off Archangel, all dressed up and nowhere to go. Good times.”
Dean nodded slowly, not really any the wiser and perhaps even more uneasy than he’d been before. “Okay. Sorry.”
“That’s okay; I know a great way you can make it up to me,” replied Sam, tone changing to lascivious so abruptly that Dean felt entirely off-balance once again.
Opening his mouth to speak, Dean let out a surprised shout instead when Sam grabbed hold of him with big, hard hands and dragged him close again.
“So, now that we’ve shared our feelings or whatever, are you gonna stop being a cock-tease and put out?” purred Sam, rutting his hips twice against Dean’s.
Gritting his teeth, Dean managed to slide his arm up between them and shove Sam away, the movement hard and unforgiving. “Answer’s still the same, asshole. That side of us is done.”
Dean watched Sam’s jaw tick angrily, eyes dark and full of fire. He saw his brother’s fists clench once and for just a split-second, he truly thought that Sam was going to fuck him anyway. He wondered what it would be like to be pinned down on the table, trying to fight while staying as quiet as possible. How he would feel if one of the cousins heard the commotion and came to investigate. He flushed with imagined shame as he tried to picture their reaction. Would they even be surprised, considering what a little bitch they seemed to think he was? Would they want to watch?
The awful moment was broken as Sam’s face suddenly cleared, becoming almost eerily blank and unconcerned. He stepped back, shrugging.
“Fine. You do what you gotta do.”
Dean was so astonished at the abrupt change that he didn’t even react when Sam leaned in and pressed a hard, closed-mouthed kiss to his lips, fingers pressing bruises into his jaw. He shook his head when Sam finally released him and turned away, stating that he was going to bed.
What the fuck?
Shivering slightly, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, Dean retreated to the Impala to sleep. He had no inclination to share a roof with any of the assholes in the Campbell compound, including his brother, and the car was the only place that he felt at home.
Once he was there, he huddled down in the front seat, pulling his coat tight around him for warmth. He didn’t want to lie in the back; it reminded him of when he and Sam had been partners, when they’d trusted each other with everything. When he would have willingly given his body, and taken Sam’s in return.
But he didn’t want to think about that now. He couldn’t even imagine being intimate with Sam as things currently stood, and there was no goddamned way that he’d submit to his brother, not while he couldn’t find it in him to trust him the whole way. Besides, now he had Lisa. And how he missed the warm comfort of her arms, the way that she’d yield to him and give everything of herself openly and honestly.
He got a little hard as he thought about being in their bed together, but he ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood for sexual gratification after the tense scene with Sam, and he also didn’t want to run the risk that rogue thoughts of his brother would pop into his mind. They’d been good together once.
But, even discounting Lisa (as Sam seemed determined to do), Dean just didn’t think they could be again. There was too much deep, dark water under the bridge and Dean had a nasty feeling that they were going to have enough trouble being brothers again, let alone anything else.
Sighing, he let his head fall against the window and tried to find sleep, wishing for a soft bed and peace of mind.
Sam headed for the small bedroom that he usually used when he was visiting the compound. It was fucking irritating to be walking away when his cock was still demanding to be stuffed deep inside his brother’s ass, but he knew that it was just a matter of time. All he needed to do was back off and let Dean have his little tantrum, and he’d soon get over it and come slinking back with his tail between his legs.
Hadn’t he already proven that by insisting that he was done with hunting, only to turn up a few days later?
Sam would give him a little space and he’d soon come running. Because Sam knew for a fact that he couldn’t be satisfied with Lisa, not after the shameful level of depravity that he’d been used to for a good chunk of his adult life. Vanilla had never been Dean’s flavour of choice.
The bed protested as Sam threw himself down on it, his weight making the springs shriek. He heard Dean go outside and knew that he’d be hiding out in the Impala; he was so predictable that it was almost adorable. The ghost of a fond smile touched Sam’s face before it was wiped clean by the infuriating memory of Dean offering him the car. She should be hunting; take her.
Bastard. Giving up the Impala was tantamount to throwing Sam himself away, far worse than dropping his amulet in the trash. So Sam hadn’t let him.
Besides, he’d known that his brother would be needing the car sooner rather than later. Had he really thought that he could bow out of the game? When Sam wanted him back? Oh, Dean.
Sam flicked open the button of his jeans and tugged his dick free, squeezing himself tight and circling the head. He thought of Dean as he jerked off, imagined fucking him right there in the Impala, cornered in the back seat with nowhere to go. He’d protest at first, but soon he’d be surrendering, spreading his legs and begging for it shamelessly, like the good little slut he’d learned to be. He’d be so desperate, a year’s worth of frustration just waiting to be pounded out of him.
Sam grunted as he fucked his fist, pissed that he was still servicing himself even though his brother was back, and his anger just turned him on more. When Dean got with the program, Sam was gonna fuck him so hard and make him feel so good that he was going to fucking cry.
With a muffled cry, Sam came all over his belly and shirt, wiping his slick fist on his clothes as he swiftly came down off his orgasm high. It was going to be so much better when he could just pump Dean full.
Still, if he needed a little more time to sulk and be afraid and to kid himself that Lisa was anything more than an impossible fantasy, then Sam would give him that. He’d come around soon enough.
Because he always did. For Sam.
THE END
So, I wanted to write a s6 wincest fic, then it turned out that wincest wouldn't really work, so this came out instead. Basically, Sam wants to resume their previous sexual relationship but Dean doesn't.
It's probably going to come across like I think Sam's a douchebag. Heh... Okay, so I do, but I swear the fic wasn't written with that in mind. I was trying to take how I see their personalities in s6, and then just add a sexual dimension in (because I just can't resist!) So, if Sam seems like he's all entitled when it comes to fucking Dean, that's because I believe he's acted like that in terms of getting Dean back into hunting.
Also, astonishingly (!), I've tried to explore Sam's perspective. Because I do want to understand him, and I do want to stop being mad with him!
All that being said, Sam's still gonna come across as a douchebag. Sorry. Hey, blame the show, not me... :P
Jesus, what a load of babbling. I hope for your sake that you skipped right ahead to the fake cut!!!!
Mine First
Dean stilled as Sam walked up close behind him, back muscles tensing almost painfully as his personal space was invaded. He’d nearly forgotten just how much room Sam could take up, how surrounded he could feel.
He closed his eyes as his brother nudged from uncomfortable to inappropriate, chest brushing shoulder blades and hips close enough for Dean to feel the heat.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”
“What?” asked Sam evenly, not backing away in spite of the waves of tension he could feel emanating from Dean.
“Did you think I was just gonna fall back into your bed?”
“Doesn’t have to be a bed,” replied Sam, but the joke fell flat. Mostly because Dean was pretty sure that he was serious. He wondered just how his brother had become so entitled, and figured that it was probably his fault for always giving into him. Just like when he walked out of Lisa’s house and returned to the hunting life.
Dean sighed and turned around, crossing his arms over his chest and staring flatly at Sam until his brother took a reluctant half-step backwards.
“You leave me in misery for a year, supposedly for my own good. Then decide that actually you want me back, so you drag me into hunting again, forcing me to work with these assholes you keep calling “family”. And to top it off, you want me to cheat on Lisa? Fuck, you’re a piece of work.”
Sam looked incredulous for a moment, then shook his head, bitterly amused. “Is that what you’re calling it? Cheating? You say that like you weren’t mine first.”
“Yeah, and you made me promise to move on. I know that you’ve changed your mind all of a sudden, but I’m pretty much done pandering to your whims, little brother.”
“You’re not a whim, Dean. I never stopped wanting you,” argued Sam, looking intently at his brother. Still so fucking beautiful, and it burned that he was acting like he belonged to someone else. Sure, Sam had forced himself to back off for the year and leave Dean to his new life, but he’d had to fight his instincts and desires every step of the way. And now he was just done. Dean had proven that Sam was more important to him than the whole white picket fence gig the second he’d dragged the tarp off the Impala. Hell, the second he’d woken up and assumed he was in Heaven because Sam was there.
And it was damned lucky that Lisa was a smart girl and had let him return to Sam without a fight. Otherwise things might have become unpleasant.
“And I know you want me too.”
Dean shook his head. “Sam, I love you; that’s never gonna change, no matter what you do. But I don’t think you have any idea how much I dislike you right now. I don’t want to be close to you, I don’t even really wanna talk to you, and I sure as hell don’t want to fuck you. So, back off.”
Sam barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes; Dean had always been a bit of a drama queen, now that he thought about it; he overreacted to everything he saw as a rejection, just like when Sam had gone to Stanford. It wasn’t that Sam didn’t get why Dean was upset: he did. He just didn’t see why he couldn’t get the hell over it already. Shit happened.
And it wasn’t like Dean wouldn’t be hard and panting for it within seconds, if he actually let Sam get close enough to touch, which was probably why he was being so defensive.
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Dean asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows.
“I said no. I’m not gonna back off. ‘Cause you know what? I’m done pandering to you too. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not really little Sammy anymore, and I’m not gonna let you start bossing me around again.”
Dean stared at his brother. His huge, marble statue of a brother. Sam didn’t seem angry, just coolly certain of himself and completely intractable. It didn’t make Dean nervous, but it did throw him off balance, and he realised in a blinding flash that he just didn’t know this version of Sam. He had absolutely no idea how he was going to react to any situation.
“No? No, you’re not going to respect my boundaries?” clarified Dean, almost cringing when the words came out of his mouth. Fuck, had he really turned into a suburban, middle class douchebag? He plowed on nevertheless. “So, what? Huh, Sam? You gonna force me? Bit ballsy to do it right here in Camp Campbell. Unless of course you’ve told them all about you and me? Guess you might have slipped it in there when you were spilling all my secrets about Hell.”
“It wasn’t like that,” cut in Sam with a sigh. He was still mad with Christian for mentioning the torture to Dean and basically attacking him with it; he’d described it in a different context, trying to convey just what Dean had suffered. But he was still aware that it hadn’t been his tale to tell. “And no, of course I’m not going to force you.”
Even though I could, he didn’t add, although they both knew it anyway. Dean might have been a match for Sam a year ago, and he probably would be again, but at the moment he wasn’t. Especially not right now, weighed down by his tortured emotions.
“But, Dean...I don’t want this to be grudge-fucking. But if that’s all I can get, I’ll take it.”
“Jesus Christ, are you even listening to me? There’s not gonna be any fucking! Though there’s sure as hell gonna be a grudge if you don’t let this go.”
Sam shook his head dismissively, suddenly stepping up close to Dean, crowding him back against the table. “You know it’ll happen, one way or the other. Why don’t you stop wasting our time?”
Dean practically growled, his voice rumbling in his throat. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“You know, I’ve been paying whores this last year?” said Sam conversationally, completely ignoring him. “Yeah, despite everything I ever said about it. You know why I do that? Because even one-night hook-ups want something from me – either affection or at least a back-story, some kind of normal human display of emotion. But I can’t give that to anyone else, not anymore. I don’t even want to.”
“So, what are you saying? I’m convenient because you don’t have to snuggle afterwards? Nice, Sam.”
“No, Dean,” replied Sam patiently, as if explaining something to a simpleton. “I’m saying that you’re the only thing left I care about. I can’t even be bothered to pretend with other people.”
Dean didn’t know how to respond; something was so broken inside his brother. And, in all honesty, he wasn’t sure that he was up to the job of fixing him. He wasn’t exactly a poster child for stability and well-adjustedness himself, no matter how hard he’d tried with Lisa and Ben, and he hadn’t recovered from the fact that he’d spent a year in grief and agony. A year that, as it turned out, he could have been spared by the people he loved the most. But no: Sam and Bobby – and, hell, even Cas – had left him to his suffering. And, yeah, he could admit it: he resented the hell out of them for it.
Sam wished now that he’d made a move on Dean right after their reunion; at that point, he’d been so shell-shocked and grateful that he’d have just blindly done whatever Sam wanted. But he’d had time to process, and get angry, and he was too damned stubborn to just give in, even if he wanted to. And Sam just didn’t have the patience for his bullshit.
Sam pushed himself tight to Dean, levering a leg in between his thighs and leaving it so that he had no choice but to sit his ass down on the table. He snatched his brother’s wrists as he raised his hands warningly, ready to give a hefty shove. Pressing close, lips ghosting over Dean’s pulse point as he defiantly turned his head away, Sam felt the warmth of the other man seep into his bones. His own cock stirred, lust ignited by the feel and smell and sight of Dean, and he nudged the growing arousal against Dean’s own crotch.
Dean was practically vibrating out of his own skin, hot and cold racing confusingly through his body and his spine crawling. His fists were clenching, but he didn’t want to hurt Sam if he didn’t have to, so instead of lashing out he whispered fiercely, “I don’t want this.”
“Yeah. You do.”
Frustrated, enraged, not so far from horny that he couldn’t feel blood flowing south, Dean wrestled his hands free and lashed out, sending Sam stumbling back. When his brother appeared determined to return, he held up his hand, glaring threateningly. “You keep your goddamned distance. I told you no, and I meant it. What the fuck is wrong with you, Sam? What happened to you in Hell that makes you think this is okay?”
Sam rolled his eyes disdainfully. “Are you still stuck on Hell? God, Dean, how many times to I have to tell you that I’m over it?”
Incensed yet again by the implication that Dean was making some huge drama about his thirty fucking years of continual torment – followed by a ten years that had been incomparably worse in the ways that mattered – Dean muttered, “Yeah, maybe ‘cause you actually spent about five fuckin’ minutes down there.”
“What did you say?” asked Sam, voice dropping to an altogether more dangerous register. He looked on the verge of being furious, but also wryly amused, his face horribly reminiscent of Lucifer for one terrifying second.
“You heard me. I spent a year torturing myself about what you must be going through, but...you weren’t, were you? You came back almost straight away, so maybe it is just a little easier for you to get over your time in the Pit.”
Dean flinched back reflexively as Sam was suddenly all up in his face, unexpectedly intent and barely concealing his wrath. “You have no idea what happened to me in that damned cage, so shut the fuck up. I was trapped with two of the most powerful, vengeful beings ever created – and I wasn’t exactly high on their Christmas list. Don’t assume that I had it easy just because I don’t want to spend my time crying about it.”
Although he felt a flash of guilt, Dean couldn’t just let it go. This was the closest Sam had come to talking about Hell, and Dean didn’t want to let the opportunity pass him by. “Did they offer you a deal, Sammy?”
“What?”
“Every day Alistair asked me to pick up the knife. And yeah, I was weak, and eventually I said yes. Not like Dad; he never broke. But what about you? ‘Cause you know what, little brother? With the way you’re acting right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d got yourself off that rack the first damned day. What’s a little torture, if it gets you easier time? I mean, they’re damned souls and they probably deserve it. Right?”
Sam’s face was inscrutable, corner of his mouth just tugging up in a mean little smile. “Is that what you think?”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t you set me straight?”
Sam smiled a little broader then. “Why? Because I don’t really care what you believe. But since you’re so curious, there was no rack. No offer. It was called Lucifer’s cage for a reason, genius. Just me, the Devil and a pissed off Archangel, all dressed up and nowhere to go. Good times.”
Dean nodded slowly, not really any the wiser and perhaps even more uneasy than he’d been before. “Okay. Sorry.”
“That’s okay; I know a great way you can make it up to me,” replied Sam, tone changing to lascivious so abruptly that Dean felt entirely off-balance once again.
Opening his mouth to speak, Dean let out a surprised shout instead when Sam grabbed hold of him with big, hard hands and dragged him close again.
“So, now that we’ve shared our feelings or whatever, are you gonna stop being a cock-tease and put out?” purred Sam, rutting his hips twice against Dean’s.
Gritting his teeth, Dean managed to slide his arm up between them and shove Sam away, the movement hard and unforgiving. “Answer’s still the same, asshole. That side of us is done.”
Dean watched Sam’s jaw tick angrily, eyes dark and full of fire. He saw his brother’s fists clench once and for just a split-second, he truly thought that Sam was going to fuck him anyway. He wondered what it would be like to be pinned down on the table, trying to fight while staying as quiet as possible. How he would feel if one of the cousins heard the commotion and came to investigate. He flushed with imagined shame as he tried to picture their reaction. Would they even be surprised, considering what a little bitch they seemed to think he was? Would they want to watch?
The awful moment was broken as Sam’s face suddenly cleared, becoming almost eerily blank and unconcerned. He stepped back, shrugging.
“Fine. You do what you gotta do.”
Dean was so astonished at the abrupt change that he didn’t even react when Sam leaned in and pressed a hard, closed-mouthed kiss to his lips, fingers pressing bruises into his jaw. He shook his head when Sam finally released him and turned away, stating that he was going to bed.
What the fuck?
Shivering slightly, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, Dean retreated to the Impala to sleep. He had no inclination to share a roof with any of the assholes in the Campbell compound, including his brother, and the car was the only place that he felt at home.
Once he was there, he huddled down in the front seat, pulling his coat tight around him for warmth. He didn’t want to lie in the back; it reminded him of when he and Sam had been partners, when they’d trusted each other with everything. When he would have willingly given his body, and taken Sam’s in return.
But he didn’t want to think about that now. He couldn’t even imagine being intimate with Sam as things currently stood, and there was no goddamned way that he’d submit to his brother, not while he couldn’t find it in him to trust him the whole way. Besides, now he had Lisa. And how he missed the warm comfort of her arms, the way that she’d yield to him and give everything of herself openly and honestly.
He got a little hard as he thought about being in their bed together, but he ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood for sexual gratification after the tense scene with Sam, and he also didn’t want to run the risk that rogue thoughts of his brother would pop into his mind. They’d been good together once.
But, even discounting Lisa (as Sam seemed determined to do), Dean just didn’t think they could be again. There was too much deep, dark water under the bridge and Dean had a nasty feeling that they were going to have enough trouble being brothers again, let alone anything else.
Sighing, he let his head fall against the window and tried to find sleep, wishing for a soft bed and peace of mind.
<o>
Sam headed for the small bedroom that he usually used when he was visiting the compound. It was fucking irritating to be walking away when his cock was still demanding to be stuffed deep inside his brother’s ass, but he knew that it was just a matter of time. All he needed to do was back off and let Dean have his little tantrum, and he’d soon get over it and come slinking back with his tail between his legs.
Hadn’t he already proven that by insisting that he was done with hunting, only to turn up a few days later?
Sam would give him a little space and he’d soon come running. Because Sam knew for a fact that he couldn’t be satisfied with Lisa, not after the shameful level of depravity that he’d been used to for a good chunk of his adult life. Vanilla had never been Dean’s flavour of choice.
The bed protested as Sam threw himself down on it, his weight making the springs shriek. He heard Dean go outside and knew that he’d be hiding out in the Impala; he was so predictable that it was almost adorable. The ghost of a fond smile touched Sam’s face before it was wiped clean by the infuriating memory of Dean offering him the car. She should be hunting; take her.
Bastard. Giving up the Impala was tantamount to throwing Sam himself away, far worse than dropping his amulet in the trash. So Sam hadn’t let him.
Besides, he’d known that his brother would be needing the car sooner rather than later. Had he really thought that he could bow out of the game? When Sam wanted him back? Oh, Dean.
Sam flicked open the button of his jeans and tugged his dick free, squeezing himself tight and circling the head. He thought of Dean as he jerked off, imagined fucking him right there in the Impala, cornered in the back seat with nowhere to go. He’d protest at first, but soon he’d be surrendering, spreading his legs and begging for it shamelessly, like the good little slut he’d learned to be. He’d be so desperate, a year’s worth of frustration just waiting to be pounded out of him.
Sam grunted as he fucked his fist, pissed that he was still servicing himself even though his brother was back, and his anger just turned him on more. When Dean got with the program, Sam was gonna fuck him so hard and make him feel so good that he was going to fucking cry.
With a muffled cry, Sam came all over his belly and shirt, wiping his slick fist on his clothes as he swiftly came down off his orgasm high. It was going to be so much better when he could just pump Dean full.
Still, if he needed a little more time to sulk and be afraid and to kid himself that Lisa was anything more than an impossible fantasy, then Sam would give him that. He’d come around soon enough.
Because he always did. For Sam.
THE END
Current Mood: Awkward
116 rode all the way down | Take your ticket
