Roadside

It was different between the two of them. Not like a woman, never like a woman. There was no softness, no curves; no silent thought holding them back and reminding: gentle.

It was them. Fucking rough, rough hands, callused, hard and hot; the solid build of their bodies’ lines and planes, shaped by years of hunting, years of training.

Bruises, more often than not, shaped and decorated slim hips.

It was good. Really good. Especially after they had learned each other’s bodies, knew where to touch, knew how much.

But before that…

…the first time always fucking hurt.

It didn’t matter. Learning to suck cock, taking his brother in deep, Sam’s throat had burned for days afterwards. Unused and untried. His first time.

The first time they really fucked. Dean deep inside of him, stretching him wide with fingers and dick. It was too fast the first time. It had hurt. But they had learned, adjusted, like they always did.

But here he was now. Pants around his ankles, being fucked hard and hot against the hood of the Impala. Dean’s thrusts behind him driving his thighs painfully against the metal in front of him. Their angle was wrong and awkward, Sam winced at ever push, teeth grating, but every pull a groan escaped as feeling Dean overwhelmed the pain and developing bruises.

“Sammy…”

Dean’s thrusts were faltering; he was close. Sam hissed when he was shoved hard against the car hood, his brother’s cock spasming inside of him, coming.

Kisses and nips were pressed along Sam’s shoulder as Dean’s hips eased off of his, allowing his newly bruised thighs to move away from the punishing black metal. A shaky hand snuck down his stomach and palmed his own hardness.

“Dean…”

The pain was always worth it.