Three's Company
folder
Supernatural › Crossovers
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,672
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Supernatural › Crossovers
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,672
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the television series that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Two's Company
Two's Company
Word Count: 3474
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: What happened after Oz left...
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
Sam and Dean watched as the van pulled away from the campsite. It hadn't taken long to clear the woods this morning - tracking a vampire nest was apparently easy for a werewolf - and Oz had decided to go ahead and clear out, since he had someone to meet in Philly.
On the other hand, they didn't have anywhere to be right away, and without a job lined up it seemed like the wisest course of action would be to take a break for a few days and rest while they could. Soon enough things would get hectic again.
As the van disappeared past the showers, Dean turned to look at Sam, who ducked his head and refused to meet his eyes. Aw, crap. He's freaking about last night. "Sam?"
"I'm going to get cleaned up. Be back in a little while." Sam was already moving towards the tent as he talked, obviously looking for the bag of toiletries.
"Wait for a minute and I'll come with you." Dean didn't particularly want to talk about it, but he knew that if he left Sam to brood, things would only get worse. Sam in a bad mood was never fun, and one in a funk wasn't any better.
"Uh, okay." Sam stood back up, holding the bag and his gun, which he tucked into the back of his jeans.
Dean hurriedly grabbed his own gun and duffel containing clean clothes and towels. "You think there's a laundromat up there? If we're going to be here a few days we should probably do some laundry, maybe take a couple of hours to clean the weapons we don't use often."
Sam visibly relaxed as Dean's words registered. "Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll tell you what - I'll deal with laundry if you take care of dinner."
Grinning, Dean agreed. "Deal, but only because I don't want burnt hot dogs for dinner again tonight. Remind me why dad let you get away without being in the boy scouts?"
"Because I nearly set fire to our tent every time we went camping."
"Right, I'd forgotten that." Dean smiled even wider. "Good thing for you that Dad never caught on that you did set it on fire at least once."
"No, I didn't!" Dean just waited, and then saw memory catch up. "Well, only once, and it was an accident!"
"Riiiiight..."
Bickering, they made their way up the hill. Dean was happy to see that Sam was smiling and no longer trying to avoid looking him in the eye. As much as he'd enjoyed the night before, he wasn't willing to give up the relationship he had with Sam to get more of it.
When they walked into the shower room, though, both of them hesitated. It was one big room, without individual cubicles or privacy, and for a moment, Dean contemplated backing away. But, taking a deep breath, he stepped up to the bench and started matter of factly stripping off. The surest way to spook Sam would be to change their normal routine, and if he dithered about showering in front of him, that would just be...
"Weird," Sam said.
"What?" Dean asked, a little disturbed to have his thoughts mirrored by Sam's well-chosen word. He stood there, barefoot and bare-chested, jeans unbuckled, waiting for Sam to explain himself.
"This is all weird. Nothing has really changed, but it feels like everything has." Slowly, Sam stripped off his shirt, folding it haphazardly and sticking it on the bench.
"Well," Dean swallowed hard, "I can think of something to try - it'll either de-weird things or it'll make it worse - up to you."
Sam tipped his head to one side, obviously contemplating this. "I think - I'm willing to take the chance that it'll weird things up more."
"Then close your eyes, Sam." When he had, Dean leaned in and kissed him gently.
The kiss only lasted a second, maybe two, but when Dean pulled away, Sam was smiling. "There. Is that better?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I really think it is. Let's get clean, okay?"
Dean couldn't help the chuckle, but he agreed readily enough and finished stripping. Stepping into the shower area, he picked one towards the end, leaving the choice of how close Sam wanted to be up to him. He had to admit that he was more than a little relieved when Sam picked the shower next to his.
Then he had to reevaluate how relieved he was, because Sam naked, right next to him? Was having a very predictable effect on his libido. He turned his back and took several deep breaths, trying to get his dick to listen to him, that right here and right now was not the place to get ideas, only to have a hand touch him gently between the shoulder blades. "Dean?"
"I'm okay." And he was, even if his voice was a bit strangled, and all the blood in his brain was draining to a spot quite a bit lower.
The hand stroked softly down his spine, pulling away just above his ass, and Dean couldn't help the whimper that rose in his throat. This time it was Sam who laughed, low and quiet. "I'm sorry. I'm not meaning to tease. It's just - "
"Weird," they both said together.
Dean turned to face Sam, making no effort to hide the effect of Sam's touch. "You can touch me any way you want, Sammy. I'm never going to tell you no - and I'm never going to make you do something that you don't want."
Sam rested his hand on Dean's chest, staring at it in fascination. Dean just worked to keep his breathing slow and even as fingers followed the path of a drop of water down over his stomach. "I'm not going to stop you, but we might want to consider moving this back to our tent?"
It seemed to take Sam a minute to realize what Dean had said, but then he dropped his hand as if it had been burnt. "Yeah, maybe that would be good."
Trying not to show how much he wanted that simple touch back, Dean nodded and started to wash off with long strokes of the washcloth. The water was hot, and practically forced his muscles to relax, so by the time he was done, he felt like no matter what Sam wanted, he'd be able to go along with it.
He turned off the water and glanced at Sam, who was rinsing off. "I'm going to get dressed. Meet you?" Sam nodded, and Dean stepped out of the shower. Drying off, he forced himself not to watch Sam still getting clean. When he was done and dressed, Sam had stepped out. Dean bit his lip and left the building.
When he got to the campsite, he opened the trunk of the Impala. Keep busy, that's what he needed to do. So, what weapons needed cleaning?
Selecting several of the knives from their sheaths, he pulled out the oil and whetstone. Settling next to the fire pit, he started sharpening them, pretending that he wasn't watching the bathhouse to see Sam. He'd already cleaned and sharpened two blades before he finally saw him come out and stand at the top of the hill, staring at Dean.
Seeing this, he didn't even try to hide that he was watching as well, and for several minutes the two of them just looked at each other. Finally, Sam appeared to have screwed up his courage and came down the hill. So as not to intimidate him or make him even more nervous, Dean turned his attention back to the knife in his hand, focusing on keeping each stroke slow and even.
Sam settled down across from Dean, and took one out one of the wicked blades that he carried in his bag. Accepting the spare whetstone and oil, they sat in quiet, cleaning their respective weapons.
Dean had gotten lost in the routine, feeling every shhh of blade over stone, when Sam broke the silence. "Do you want this, Dean?" One look at his face, and it was clear he wasn't offering an object.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I want it." He aborted a move towards Sam, instead giving in to years of training and finishing cleaning the knife in his hand first. Rolling to his feet, he took the knives to the Impala and locked them in the trunk. Only then did he look at Sam again, who had tucked his weapon away and was watching him.
Holding out his hand, he waited to see if Sam would take it. When he did, Dean felt his heart stop. This was really happening. Leading the way to the tent, he hesitated at the entrance, letting Sam go in at his own pace.
The tent was small - just long enough for Sam to stretch out, and certainly not tall enough for either of them to stand. Instead, Dean sunk down so he was sitting cross-legged and looked at Sam, who stared back. "Now what?"
"Maybe we should -" and Dean leaned forward so that he could brush his lips over Sam's. Once, twice, and then a third time, before he pulled back and waited for Sam's reaction. Sam's eyes were closed, and he lifted his hand and brushed it over his own lips. Then, eyes still shut; he leaned forward and kissed Dean back.
It was like a shock passed through him, from the top of his head to his feet. He couldn't breathe, his heart was racing, and he was suddenly, achingly hard. He fisted his hands in the sleeping bag under him to resist the urge to reach out and grab. "Fuck, Sammy..."
Sam grinned and then kissed him again, this time opening his mouth so that Dean could taste him. It took everything he had not to just grab Sam in that moment and ravage his mouth, instead taking it gentle and exploring slowly. This time, when they came apart, it was Sam who looked like he'd been hit with a two by four.
Dean smiled. "It's your call, Sam. Whatever you want."
"Anything?"
"Anything." Even with that, Dean was surprised when Sam practically crawled into his lap, tangling his hands in his hair and tipping his face for a kiss. This one was thorough and hot, and by the time Sam bit his lip and pulled away, Dean was gasping.
When Sam let go of his hair and ran his hands up his chest, Dean couldn't control the small shudder of need and want. He was so hot, wanted this so badly, that when Sam lifted his shirt and touched naked flesh for the first time, he moaned. Loudly.
The expression on Sam's face was full of longing, and when he tugged on Dean's shirt, all he could do was nod. The shirt came off, and Sam ducked his head, running a broad tongue over Dean's nipple. Dean's hands were tight knots in an effort to avoid grabbing at Sam.
"Sam," his voice was strangled and tight. "I need - "
Looking up, Sam studied his face for a moment, and then pulled back just far to pull off his own shirt. "Touch me, Dean. Please?"
He didn't have to ask twice. Dean tentatively ran his hands over the strong muscles of Sam's back, chuckling at the moan that rose at the touch. When he scratched lightly, though, he was surprised at the reaction he got. Sam shoved him down, so that they were both lying stretched out, kissing him hard. What had been gentle and sweet was rapidly becoming heated, and Dean couldn't find it in himself to slow things down.
When Sam groped at his belt buckle, he groaned, long and low, and lifted his hips so that Sam could tug his pants down. Sam's jeans rubbed roughly against his hard cock, and he gasped. "Oh, god, Sammy..." He clutched at Sam's waist. "Can I -"
"Anything," Sam said, echoing Dean's promise of earlier. It was a matter of only a few moments to get Sam out of them, and for the first time, they were naked together with no one in between. At the first touch of skin on skin, both of them moaned, and without talking about it, they arranged themselves so that their cocks rubbed together.
It all felt so good, and the kissing was making everything even more intense. Dean finally gave in and rolled them over so he was stretched out on top of Sam. Breaking off the kiss, he started nibbling on Sam's neck and down over his collarbone. He moaned, relaxing into the sleeping bag beneath him. Dean lifted his head so he could look into Sam's face. "Okay?"
"Oh, hell yes," Sam said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. Dean gave him an answering smile and dropped his head back down, so that he could kiss Sam's chest. The skin under his lips shivered, and he breathed warm air over it, followed by a sharp nip.
Gradually, he worked his way down, spending long minutes licking and sucking Sam's nipples before going further down and biting at his stomach. Sam laughed, and Dean smiled against his skin. Sam had always been ticklish.
Ignoring the temptation to tickle Sam thoroughly, he moved again, curling up so that his head was level with Sam's cock. Slowly, giving him a chance to object, he wrapped his hand around Sam's cock. Before he could do what he really wanted, though, Sam stopped him with a hand in his hair. "Turn around."
Oh, fuck yes. It took some doing, but eventually they were arranged on their sides. At long last, he did what he'd wanted for so long, and sucked the head of Sam's cock into his mouth. He had to moan, though, when exactly Sam mirrored his action. He took more in, and tongued the spot just under the head, trying to focus on what he was doing to his brother.
Hard to do, though, when Sam seemed determined to drive him out of his mind. He could tell that Sam hadn't done this much, if at all, but his endearing clumsiness was just that much hotter.
When Sam's fingers trailed a line down over his opening, Dean choked. Suddenly, the dick he'd been sucking on disappeared, as did the mouth on his own. Sam sat up and started pounding on his back. "You okay, Dean?"
He just growled and tackled Sam back down. "I'm fine." But the grin on Sam's face told him that he knew that, that he'd been fucking with him, and Dean bounced lightly where he was sitting on Sam's stomach. "You little shit!"
Now the grin became an outright laugh, and Dean felt a need to wipe it off Sam's face, so he leaned down and kissed him deeply, shifting down so that Sam's cock was nestled along his ass.
It worked, Sam going rigid beneath him and barely breathing. "Dean?"
"You want it, Sam?"
Next thing he knew, Sam had flipped them over and was kissing him hungrily. "Yeah, I want it," he said between kisses.
Trying not to break the kiss, Dean groped for his toiletry bag. It was just out of reach, though, and he ripped his head to one side, muttering as he grabbed it. Pulling out the bottle of lube, he grabbed for where he kept condoms, only to come up empty. "Shit!"
Now Sam was laughing, openly. "Shut up, you prick."
But Sam kept laughing, eventually collapsing to one side, leaving Dean staring at him in frustration. It took a while, but he gave in and started to chuckle as well. Every time they looked at each other, they started all over again.
Still laughing weakly, Sam reached over to his own tap kit, and pulled out a strip of condoms. Tossing them so they landed on Dean's chest, he studiously avoided looking at Dean.
For his part, Dean closed his eyes and wound his hands into Sam's hair, tugging him down for a kiss. He was rapidly becoming addicted to his brother's lips.
Both of them sobered quickly after that, and Sam picked up the bottle of Astroglide. "You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Just shut up and fuck me already."
Sam slicked up his fingers and slowly slid one into Dean's entrance. Felt so good, so. very. fucking. good. and he couldn't help arching his back, trying to get it deeper. Sam was staring at the point where his finger was sliding in and out of Dean's body, and the look on his face...
"Hey, bro," said Dean, running one hand along Sam's cheek. "It's all good, Sammy."
Nuzzling into Dean's hand, Sam added another finger. "You know we're a couple of sick bastards, right?"
Dean couldn't help the smile. "Yeah, but we're sick bastards together." Then Sam's fingers brushed over that spot deep inside, and Dean had to stop talking. Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he squeezed it tightly, trying not to come.
Then he felt empty as the fingers slid out, and he cried out. "Oh, please, please, please..." Sam shifted, obviously trying to get the condom wrapper open, but Dean didn't care. He wanted it, now.
"Hold on, bro - just hold on..." And then there was broad pressure at his entrance, and then an almost audible pop as he slid through.
"Aw, fuck, yeah..." Dean shifted, trying to get Sam to go faster, further, but Sam seemed determined to take it as slow as he could. Finally, in desperation, Dean wrapped his legs around Sam's hips and pulled him in, fast and hard.
After all the lead up, it couldn't last long. When Dean wrapped his hand around his own cock and started touching his own cock, Sam groaned and started moving faster. Every stroke pressed over that one spot, ratcheting Dean up higher, and when Sam leaned down and kissed him, he fell.
By the time he came back to himself, Sam was moving slowly, languorously, inside of him. He grinned down at Dean. "Ready to see what I've learned over the last few years?"
Dean couldn't help it - it sounded like a challenge and he'd never been able to resist a challenge. "What's that, college boy?"
Sam knelt up, pulling Dean up on his thighs. This angle pressed the head of Sam's cock right into his hot spot, and when Sam began to move, Dean swore. "Oh, holy buggering fuck - do that again!"
For his part, Sam just smiled and continued to move, slow and sweet. Dean didn't know what his little brother had been doing at school, but whatever it was, he was thanking christ for it now, because he was already getting hard again. Every stroke was just absolute perfection, so when Sam pulled out, Dean thought he could be forgiven for getting just a little pissed. "Sam! Why the hell are you stopping?"
"Turn over, Dean. Just... trust me."
In the close confines of the tent, it took some doing to get themselves rearranged, but when Sam slid back in, Dean forgave him almost instantly. It felt so good that when Sam pressed on his shoulder, he obediently dropped his chest to the floor, and then gasped.
The contact was both more immediate and more constant, and Dean reached down between his legs to where Sam's cock was splitting him open. That finally seemed to be enough to crack Sam, who did a little swearing of his own. "Christ, Dean. You keep doing that and..." Dean grinned into the pillow he was leaning against, and stretched a little further, managing to just barely touch Sam's balls.
"I want you to come, Sammy. Don't - don't hold back anymore." Sam groaned and slammed hard into Dean, who pushed back into the stroke.
It became a battle between the two of them, Sam pushing and Dean pushing back. Sam's hands grew tight on his hips, and both of them were panting and breathing hard. Sam seemed determined to hold on forever, and while Dean loved every second, he wanted to feel Sam come.
A couple more strokes, and it didn't matter if Sam was going to come or not, because Dean was, again. As he clenched down tight around the cock in his ass, Sam groaned and slammed one more time into him, harder than before.
This time, Dean couldn't control his muscles anymore, and collapsed. Sam followed him down, lying on his back until Dean realized he couldn't breathe. "Sammy?"
"It's Sam, dammit," but Sam rolled off him. Turning to face him, Dean reached out and pulled Sam in close.
"Cuddling, Dean?"
"Shut up, Sam."
Word Count: 3474
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: What happened after Oz left...
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
Sam and Dean watched as the van pulled away from the campsite. It hadn't taken long to clear the woods this morning - tracking a vampire nest was apparently easy for a werewolf - and Oz had decided to go ahead and clear out, since he had someone to meet in Philly.
On the other hand, they didn't have anywhere to be right away, and without a job lined up it seemed like the wisest course of action would be to take a break for a few days and rest while they could. Soon enough things would get hectic again.
As the van disappeared past the showers, Dean turned to look at Sam, who ducked his head and refused to meet his eyes. Aw, crap. He's freaking about last night. "Sam?"
"I'm going to get cleaned up. Be back in a little while." Sam was already moving towards the tent as he talked, obviously looking for the bag of toiletries.
"Wait for a minute and I'll come with you." Dean didn't particularly want to talk about it, but he knew that if he left Sam to brood, things would only get worse. Sam in a bad mood was never fun, and one in a funk wasn't any better.
"Uh, okay." Sam stood back up, holding the bag and his gun, which he tucked into the back of his jeans.
Dean hurriedly grabbed his own gun and duffel containing clean clothes and towels. "You think there's a laundromat up there? If we're going to be here a few days we should probably do some laundry, maybe take a couple of hours to clean the weapons we don't use often."
Sam visibly relaxed as Dean's words registered. "Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll tell you what - I'll deal with laundry if you take care of dinner."
Grinning, Dean agreed. "Deal, but only because I don't want burnt hot dogs for dinner again tonight. Remind me why dad let you get away without being in the boy scouts?"
"Because I nearly set fire to our tent every time we went camping."
"Right, I'd forgotten that." Dean smiled even wider. "Good thing for you that Dad never caught on that you did set it on fire at least once."
"No, I didn't!" Dean just waited, and then saw memory catch up. "Well, only once, and it was an accident!"
"Riiiiight..."
Bickering, they made their way up the hill. Dean was happy to see that Sam was smiling and no longer trying to avoid looking him in the eye. As much as he'd enjoyed the night before, he wasn't willing to give up the relationship he had with Sam to get more of it.
When they walked into the shower room, though, both of them hesitated. It was one big room, without individual cubicles or privacy, and for a moment, Dean contemplated backing away. But, taking a deep breath, he stepped up to the bench and started matter of factly stripping off. The surest way to spook Sam would be to change their normal routine, and if he dithered about showering in front of him, that would just be...
"Weird," Sam said.
"What?" Dean asked, a little disturbed to have his thoughts mirrored by Sam's well-chosen word. He stood there, barefoot and bare-chested, jeans unbuckled, waiting for Sam to explain himself.
"This is all weird. Nothing has really changed, but it feels like everything has." Slowly, Sam stripped off his shirt, folding it haphazardly and sticking it on the bench.
"Well," Dean swallowed hard, "I can think of something to try - it'll either de-weird things or it'll make it worse - up to you."
Sam tipped his head to one side, obviously contemplating this. "I think - I'm willing to take the chance that it'll weird things up more."
"Then close your eyes, Sam." When he had, Dean leaned in and kissed him gently.
The kiss only lasted a second, maybe two, but when Dean pulled away, Sam was smiling. "There. Is that better?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I really think it is. Let's get clean, okay?"
Dean couldn't help the chuckle, but he agreed readily enough and finished stripping. Stepping into the shower area, he picked one towards the end, leaving the choice of how close Sam wanted to be up to him. He had to admit that he was more than a little relieved when Sam picked the shower next to his.
Then he had to reevaluate how relieved he was, because Sam naked, right next to him? Was having a very predictable effect on his libido. He turned his back and took several deep breaths, trying to get his dick to listen to him, that right here and right now was not the place to get ideas, only to have a hand touch him gently between the shoulder blades. "Dean?"
"I'm okay." And he was, even if his voice was a bit strangled, and all the blood in his brain was draining to a spot quite a bit lower.
The hand stroked softly down his spine, pulling away just above his ass, and Dean couldn't help the whimper that rose in his throat. This time it was Sam who laughed, low and quiet. "I'm sorry. I'm not meaning to tease. It's just - "
"Weird," they both said together.
Dean turned to face Sam, making no effort to hide the effect of Sam's touch. "You can touch me any way you want, Sammy. I'm never going to tell you no - and I'm never going to make you do something that you don't want."
Sam rested his hand on Dean's chest, staring at it in fascination. Dean just worked to keep his breathing slow and even as fingers followed the path of a drop of water down over his stomach. "I'm not going to stop you, but we might want to consider moving this back to our tent?"
It seemed to take Sam a minute to realize what Dean had said, but then he dropped his hand as if it had been burnt. "Yeah, maybe that would be good."
Trying not to show how much he wanted that simple touch back, Dean nodded and started to wash off with long strokes of the washcloth. The water was hot, and practically forced his muscles to relax, so by the time he was done, he felt like no matter what Sam wanted, he'd be able to go along with it.
He turned off the water and glanced at Sam, who was rinsing off. "I'm going to get dressed. Meet you?" Sam nodded, and Dean stepped out of the shower. Drying off, he forced himself not to watch Sam still getting clean. When he was done and dressed, Sam had stepped out. Dean bit his lip and left the building.
When he got to the campsite, he opened the trunk of the Impala. Keep busy, that's what he needed to do. So, what weapons needed cleaning?
Selecting several of the knives from their sheaths, he pulled out the oil and whetstone. Settling next to the fire pit, he started sharpening them, pretending that he wasn't watching the bathhouse to see Sam. He'd already cleaned and sharpened two blades before he finally saw him come out and stand at the top of the hill, staring at Dean.
Seeing this, he didn't even try to hide that he was watching as well, and for several minutes the two of them just looked at each other. Finally, Sam appeared to have screwed up his courage and came down the hill. So as not to intimidate him or make him even more nervous, Dean turned his attention back to the knife in his hand, focusing on keeping each stroke slow and even.
Sam settled down across from Dean, and took one out one of the wicked blades that he carried in his bag. Accepting the spare whetstone and oil, they sat in quiet, cleaning their respective weapons.
Dean had gotten lost in the routine, feeling every shhh of blade over stone, when Sam broke the silence. "Do you want this, Dean?" One look at his face, and it was clear he wasn't offering an object.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I want it." He aborted a move towards Sam, instead giving in to years of training and finishing cleaning the knife in his hand first. Rolling to his feet, he took the knives to the Impala and locked them in the trunk. Only then did he look at Sam again, who had tucked his weapon away and was watching him.
Holding out his hand, he waited to see if Sam would take it. When he did, Dean felt his heart stop. This was really happening. Leading the way to the tent, he hesitated at the entrance, letting Sam go in at his own pace.
The tent was small - just long enough for Sam to stretch out, and certainly not tall enough for either of them to stand. Instead, Dean sunk down so he was sitting cross-legged and looked at Sam, who stared back. "Now what?"
"Maybe we should -" and Dean leaned forward so that he could brush his lips over Sam's. Once, twice, and then a third time, before he pulled back and waited for Sam's reaction. Sam's eyes were closed, and he lifted his hand and brushed it over his own lips. Then, eyes still shut; he leaned forward and kissed Dean back.
It was like a shock passed through him, from the top of his head to his feet. He couldn't breathe, his heart was racing, and he was suddenly, achingly hard. He fisted his hands in the sleeping bag under him to resist the urge to reach out and grab. "Fuck, Sammy..."
Sam grinned and then kissed him again, this time opening his mouth so that Dean could taste him. It took everything he had not to just grab Sam in that moment and ravage his mouth, instead taking it gentle and exploring slowly. This time, when they came apart, it was Sam who looked like he'd been hit with a two by four.
Dean smiled. "It's your call, Sam. Whatever you want."
"Anything?"
"Anything." Even with that, Dean was surprised when Sam practically crawled into his lap, tangling his hands in his hair and tipping his face for a kiss. This one was thorough and hot, and by the time Sam bit his lip and pulled away, Dean was gasping.
When Sam let go of his hair and ran his hands up his chest, Dean couldn't control the small shudder of need and want. He was so hot, wanted this so badly, that when Sam lifted his shirt and touched naked flesh for the first time, he moaned. Loudly.
The expression on Sam's face was full of longing, and when he tugged on Dean's shirt, all he could do was nod. The shirt came off, and Sam ducked his head, running a broad tongue over Dean's nipple. Dean's hands were tight knots in an effort to avoid grabbing at Sam.
"Sam," his voice was strangled and tight. "I need - "
Looking up, Sam studied his face for a moment, and then pulled back just far to pull off his own shirt. "Touch me, Dean. Please?"
He didn't have to ask twice. Dean tentatively ran his hands over the strong muscles of Sam's back, chuckling at the moan that rose at the touch. When he scratched lightly, though, he was surprised at the reaction he got. Sam shoved him down, so that they were both lying stretched out, kissing him hard. What had been gentle and sweet was rapidly becoming heated, and Dean couldn't find it in himself to slow things down.
When Sam groped at his belt buckle, he groaned, long and low, and lifted his hips so that Sam could tug his pants down. Sam's jeans rubbed roughly against his hard cock, and he gasped. "Oh, god, Sammy..." He clutched at Sam's waist. "Can I -"
"Anything," Sam said, echoing Dean's promise of earlier. It was a matter of only a few moments to get Sam out of them, and for the first time, they were naked together with no one in between. At the first touch of skin on skin, both of them moaned, and without talking about it, they arranged themselves so that their cocks rubbed together.
It all felt so good, and the kissing was making everything even more intense. Dean finally gave in and rolled them over so he was stretched out on top of Sam. Breaking off the kiss, he started nibbling on Sam's neck and down over his collarbone. He moaned, relaxing into the sleeping bag beneath him. Dean lifted his head so he could look into Sam's face. "Okay?"
"Oh, hell yes," Sam said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. Dean gave him an answering smile and dropped his head back down, so that he could kiss Sam's chest. The skin under his lips shivered, and he breathed warm air over it, followed by a sharp nip.
Gradually, he worked his way down, spending long minutes licking and sucking Sam's nipples before going further down and biting at his stomach. Sam laughed, and Dean smiled against his skin. Sam had always been ticklish.
Ignoring the temptation to tickle Sam thoroughly, he moved again, curling up so that his head was level with Sam's cock. Slowly, giving him a chance to object, he wrapped his hand around Sam's cock. Before he could do what he really wanted, though, Sam stopped him with a hand in his hair. "Turn around."
Oh, fuck yes. It took some doing, but eventually they were arranged on their sides. At long last, he did what he'd wanted for so long, and sucked the head of Sam's cock into his mouth. He had to moan, though, when exactly Sam mirrored his action. He took more in, and tongued the spot just under the head, trying to focus on what he was doing to his brother.
Hard to do, though, when Sam seemed determined to drive him out of his mind. He could tell that Sam hadn't done this much, if at all, but his endearing clumsiness was just that much hotter.
When Sam's fingers trailed a line down over his opening, Dean choked. Suddenly, the dick he'd been sucking on disappeared, as did the mouth on his own. Sam sat up and started pounding on his back. "You okay, Dean?"
He just growled and tackled Sam back down. "I'm fine." But the grin on Sam's face told him that he knew that, that he'd been fucking with him, and Dean bounced lightly where he was sitting on Sam's stomach. "You little shit!"
Now the grin became an outright laugh, and Dean felt a need to wipe it off Sam's face, so he leaned down and kissed him deeply, shifting down so that Sam's cock was nestled along his ass.
It worked, Sam going rigid beneath him and barely breathing. "Dean?"
"You want it, Sam?"
Next thing he knew, Sam had flipped them over and was kissing him hungrily. "Yeah, I want it," he said between kisses.
Trying not to break the kiss, Dean groped for his toiletry bag. It was just out of reach, though, and he ripped his head to one side, muttering as he grabbed it. Pulling out the bottle of lube, he grabbed for where he kept condoms, only to come up empty. "Shit!"
Now Sam was laughing, openly. "Shut up, you prick."
But Sam kept laughing, eventually collapsing to one side, leaving Dean staring at him in frustration. It took a while, but he gave in and started to chuckle as well. Every time they looked at each other, they started all over again.
Still laughing weakly, Sam reached over to his own tap kit, and pulled out a strip of condoms. Tossing them so they landed on Dean's chest, he studiously avoided looking at Dean.
For his part, Dean closed his eyes and wound his hands into Sam's hair, tugging him down for a kiss. He was rapidly becoming addicted to his brother's lips.
Both of them sobered quickly after that, and Sam picked up the bottle of Astroglide. "You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Just shut up and fuck me already."
Sam slicked up his fingers and slowly slid one into Dean's entrance. Felt so good, so. very. fucking. good. and he couldn't help arching his back, trying to get it deeper. Sam was staring at the point where his finger was sliding in and out of Dean's body, and the look on his face...
"Hey, bro," said Dean, running one hand along Sam's cheek. "It's all good, Sammy."
Nuzzling into Dean's hand, Sam added another finger. "You know we're a couple of sick bastards, right?"
Dean couldn't help the smile. "Yeah, but we're sick bastards together." Then Sam's fingers brushed over that spot deep inside, and Dean had to stop talking. Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he squeezed it tightly, trying not to come.
Then he felt empty as the fingers slid out, and he cried out. "Oh, please, please, please..." Sam shifted, obviously trying to get the condom wrapper open, but Dean didn't care. He wanted it, now.
"Hold on, bro - just hold on..." And then there was broad pressure at his entrance, and then an almost audible pop as he slid through.
"Aw, fuck, yeah..." Dean shifted, trying to get Sam to go faster, further, but Sam seemed determined to take it as slow as he could. Finally, in desperation, Dean wrapped his legs around Sam's hips and pulled him in, fast and hard.
After all the lead up, it couldn't last long. When Dean wrapped his hand around his own cock and started touching his own cock, Sam groaned and started moving faster. Every stroke pressed over that one spot, ratcheting Dean up higher, and when Sam leaned down and kissed him, he fell.
By the time he came back to himself, Sam was moving slowly, languorously, inside of him. He grinned down at Dean. "Ready to see what I've learned over the last few years?"
Dean couldn't help it - it sounded like a challenge and he'd never been able to resist a challenge. "What's that, college boy?"
Sam knelt up, pulling Dean up on his thighs. This angle pressed the head of Sam's cock right into his hot spot, and when Sam began to move, Dean swore. "Oh, holy buggering fuck - do that again!"
For his part, Sam just smiled and continued to move, slow and sweet. Dean didn't know what his little brother had been doing at school, but whatever it was, he was thanking christ for it now, because he was already getting hard again. Every stroke was just absolute perfection, so when Sam pulled out, Dean thought he could be forgiven for getting just a little pissed. "Sam! Why the hell are you stopping?"
"Turn over, Dean. Just... trust me."
In the close confines of the tent, it took some doing to get themselves rearranged, but when Sam slid back in, Dean forgave him almost instantly. It felt so good that when Sam pressed on his shoulder, he obediently dropped his chest to the floor, and then gasped.
The contact was both more immediate and more constant, and Dean reached down between his legs to where Sam's cock was splitting him open. That finally seemed to be enough to crack Sam, who did a little swearing of his own. "Christ, Dean. You keep doing that and..." Dean grinned into the pillow he was leaning against, and stretched a little further, managing to just barely touch Sam's balls.
"I want you to come, Sammy. Don't - don't hold back anymore." Sam groaned and slammed hard into Dean, who pushed back into the stroke.
It became a battle between the two of them, Sam pushing and Dean pushing back. Sam's hands grew tight on his hips, and both of them were panting and breathing hard. Sam seemed determined to hold on forever, and while Dean loved every second, he wanted to feel Sam come.
A couple more strokes, and it didn't matter if Sam was going to come or not, because Dean was, again. As he clenched down tight around the cock in his ass, Sam groaned and slammed one more time into him, harder than before.
This time, Dean couldn't control his muscles anymore, and collapsed. Sam followed him down, lying on his back until Dean realized he couldn't breathe. "Sammy?"
"It's Sam, dammit," but Sam rolled off him. Turning to face him, Dean reached out and pulled Sam in close.
"Cuddling, Dean?"
"Shut up, Sam."