Proof of Life

A/N: For Missa. She enables me into things like this… my first real Wincest story. This is ~after~ I had told her that I would never, ever do this. Woman! Look at what you reduce me to! *laughs*

~*~

Bobby and Ellen had left minutes ago, the low rumble of the truck’s engine fading into the distance. The graveyard was still and quiet; it was out of the way enough that they didn’t fear leaving the body that the Yellow Eyed Demon had inhabited. It wouldn’t be found and it seemed fitting to leave the corpse near the door to hell. Dean had popped the trunk again on Sam’s insistence so that Sam could sketch a Devil’s Trap on the underside of the trunk, hidden but still protective.

“Dean…” Sam began, honestly unsure of what he was going to say. A thousand questions seemed to be swirling in his head but a lifetime of keeping quiet was hard to break.

“No, it’s time for us to kick back. We take a few days, you need to heal up some, then we can meet up with Bobby and start figurin’ out where to start,” Dean’s voice was weary but he was still obviously riding the adrenaline high from earlier.

Sam huffed out a breath but nodded his head in agreement. He was still sore and even though he had made a declaration meant to make them more equals than older and younger brother, Sam knew Dean would still want to baby him. It was odd, this feeling Sam had of being on more equal footing with his brother.

“No, man, I didn’t mean that,” Sam managed to mumble, his eyes fixed on the ground. Dean moved to walk past him and to the driver’s side door. Sam realized he was also shaking with having escaped overwhelming odds, no, not just escaping but pulling out ahead. The Demon, the one that had killed mom and Jess, it was dead. Dean had killed it.

Just like that, like a flash, Sam understood the tension that was humming through Dean’s body. As Dean brushed by, his hand reaching for the Impala’s driver’s side door, Sam grabbed his brother and pushed him flush against the side of the car. Dean looked shocked for a moment before stilling his features into something blank and inscrutable.

“What’s up, Sammy?” Dean asked, his voice low and controlled.

Without answering, or perhaps it was an answer in and of itself, Sam nuzzled the side of Dean’s neck. In anticipation, he nipped at the soft flesh hidden behind Dean’s ear and was gratified to hear his brother whimper as Dean’s right arm curled up to settle against Sam’s back. Pushing his luck, Sam’s tongue swiped out to lick a wet line from Dean’s Adam’s apple to his shoulder.

“Dude, not here,” Dean ground out, his voice husky. Sam lifted his head and stared down into Dean’s eyes. There was a fine hazel ring around a pupil blown wide with lust. Sam just grinned, the skin on his face felt tight. There was a coldness in his gut that he’d been carrying around since he woke up. Since he came back from the dead. But he had a feeling that he knew what would get rid of it.

“’S OK, we’re alone,” Sam whispered against Dean’s temple before abruptly sliding to his knees. Dean whimpered, his fingers scrabbling to find purchase in Sam’s coat to yank his brother back onto his feet.

“Just this, OK, just let me…” Sam trailed off, this time his voice was muffled against Dean’s thigh.

For a moment, less than that even, the reasons why they shouldn’t flitted through Dean’s mind. Sam was pleading though and Dean could never deny him anything. The last, incongruous, image that ran through his mind was of his father. Of John’s pride and joy in his sons, of the benediction he seemed to be bestowing upon his eldest. Dean disengaged his fingers from Sam’s jacket and placed his palms flat against the chill metal of his car.

Sam made a keening noise as his hands ghosted from Dean’s knees to his inner thighs, paused, then pushed higher to raise Dean’s shirt. For a moment Sam mouthed at Dean’s stomach, drawing in the scent of his brother then his nimble fingers undid the button of Dean’s jeans and pulled the zipper down with reverent slowness.

Dean was hard and aching, unsure entirely what Sam had planned. He didn’t need to question it; he’d learn soon enough what Sammy had in mind. He doubted any of it would be something he would object to. Dean moaned softly when Sam’s warm hand reached into his boxers and pulled his cock out, exposing it to the soft night air.

“Sammy,” he tried to say, was uncertain if the name had actually escaped. If it had, Sam was either ignoring it or too busy with what was in front of him. Eyes rolled upward to watch Dean, Sam drew his tongue from the base of Dean’s cock up to the head. Predictably, Dean gasped as his left hand wrapped around the Impala’s door handle. His other hand was grasping ineffectively against the door panel, looking for purchase.

With a grin Sam enveloped the head of Dean’s cock in the hot cavern of his mouth. Sam’s grin grew wider when Dean’s head rolled back to thump weakly against the car’s roof. Dean had to be uncomfortable in that position, or perhaps the pleasure was so overwhelming as to block out any discomfort. Sam slowly, deliberately, slid down Dean’s cock until his nose was bumping against smooth cotton. Sam swirled his tongue against the underside of his brother’s cock for a moment before pulling back, savoring the taste. It was musky, salty, and perfect.

Sam’s hands were pressed flush against Dean’s hips even though Sam knew Dean would remain rigidly still. The thought annoyed Sam, he didn’t want Dean to be in control. As Sam sucked at the head of Dean’s cock, like it was a lollipop, he moved his hands so that his nails were dragging along the denim covering Dean’s thighs. As shudder ran through Dean but he managed not to buck his hips. Sam growled, the vibration riding up Dean’s cock to make his brother gasp and tighten his grip on the door handle.

Wanting Dean to give into his impulses, Sam bobbed shallowly on Dean’s cock, taking in only the few inches that would comfortably fit in his mouth. Sam alternated between adding suction and laving his tongue over the bundle of nerves beneath the head. Dean’s breathing was shallow and irregular but both his hands were still against the car, his hips had canted outward but were still. After a few minutes Sam stopped kneading Dean’s thighs and pressed the palm of one hand against Dean’s balls.

It was like a switch was thrown, Dean’s hands left the car to thread into Sam’s hair as his head snapped up. Sam was pleased to see that there was no reason at all in Dean’s eyes; his brother was completely at Sam’s mercy.

As Dean fisted his hands in Sam’s hair, Sam braced himself, knowing what was coming. At first Dean thrust shallowly into Sam’s mouth, still trying to hold back, he felt like he was impossibly hard but still couldn’t quite give in to what Sammy wanted. Then Sam hooked his fingers into one of Dean’s belt loops and tugged him forward as Sam hummed around his cock. It was too much, too much.

With reckless abandon, Dean fucked Sam’s mouth, almost crying with the pleasure of it. Sam relaxed as much as he could and let Dean move as he wanted to. He could feel his brother’s cock hardening further, the wide tip swelling, telling Sam that this wouldn’t last long. The scent of Dean was mixing with the sweet loam smell of the earth, it was perfect and Sam groaned, the only way he had to express his own pleasure.

“Sammy, I’m gonna…” Dean gasped out, his hips stuttering and trying to stop. Sam hollowed his cheeks with suction and pulled back slightly, one hand coming up to encircle Dean’s cock. Before Dean could speak again, to try and warn Sam again, he was coming. Hot splashes pulsed into Sam’s mouth, hitting the back of his tongue so he barely tasted it. Sam pulled back further so he could savor the taste of his brother and mouthed at Dean’s cock until the orgasm had finished.

Dean was boneless against the car but he braced himself and pulled Sam to his feet. Sam stumbled against him, their bodies flush together. Dean slid one arm around Sam as Sam twined his arms around Dean’s neck. The stood like that for a moment, both of them panting harshly. Once the aftershocks started to leave his system, Dean noticed the incessant pressure of Sam hard and hot against his hip. Dean groaned again and his hips twisted forward of their own accord.

Sam, being Sam, laughed lightly and buried his nose in Dean’s short hair. Dean suddenly needed to do something of his own, figured it would be tolerated since everything they had done so far was different than normal. Normally, it was frantic hand jobs in dark motel rooms, neither of them really acknowledging what they were doing. Those rare times had been filled with shame and longing, a way for them to acknowledge that they were still alive, were still able to feel. This, this seemed different.

The last person Dean had kissed had been that demon bitch. He could still taste it; nothing seemed to wash away the visceral flavor of her. There had been an overlying burn of cinnamon but underneath there was the putridness of old blood and a bitterness that Dean couldn’t place. It had disgusted him, left him feeling used and broken.

With a nudge of his head, Dean got Sam to look at him. Their foreheads were almost touching, their breaths mingling together. Dean looked at Sam, really looked at him and finished making his peace. It didn’t matter what he had done, what he would do. They were together, they were alive. They had a year that would be a lifetime.

Slowly, giving Sam a chance to protest, Dean brought his lips to Sam's. The kiss was chaste, just a press of dry lips against dry lips, something siblings might share. Then Sam was opening his mouth and Dean began kissing him in earnest. Dean’s other hand came up to cup Sam’s jaw to try to help control the kiss and Sammy moaned into Dean’s mouth.

“Hotel?” Sam asked, his voice strained, when the pulled apart. Dean nodded once before kissing Sam again, his tongue trailing along Sam’s teeth before he sucked on Sam’s lower lip. Sam’s hips were stuttering against his looking for friction.

Dean released Sam and they clamored into the car, silently unanimous in their destination. Dean’s eyes slid over to look at his brother. The vile taste was gone from Dean’s mouth, replaced with the sharp tang that was all Sam. It tasted like coming home.