Sequel to What Dean Saw Sam's got this funny look in his eyes, and Dean can't stop thinking about it when he jerks off late at night. During the daylight hours, it's not a problem. Dean just drives where they need to drive, the music making it virtually impossible for him to think about it, the job distracting him enough that he doesn't flush and swell up in his pants every time he accidentally looks at Sam's crotch. Dean wonders if Sam is ever going to admit to him that he likes guys, like that. He's kinda hurt that his brother wouldn't confide in him; they've been on the road for fucking months, they should have no secrets from each other. Well, almost no secrets. Some things are best Not Mentioned, Ever. "... so the dog said to me, 'you wanna buy some crack?' and I just laughed at it." Dean nods. "Uh huh." He's not expecting the cuff across the back of the head, and the car swerves on the road before Dean recovers from his surprise. "What the fuck!" "What's got you so distracted?" Sam asks innocently. "Uh. Just thinking about Dad. Y'know." Dean pauses, and frowns at Sam. "A dog tried to sell you crack?" Sam laughs, and Dean manages to resist the urge to punch him in the face. ~*~*~ They've just managed to exorcise a demon possessing a sorority house, of all things, and Dean's exhausted. A few of the girls keep thanking him profusely, offering to thank him more personally, but all he can think about is bed. Sleep. Sam laughingly shakes off the offers too, even though Dean did most of the work and really, Sam could quite easily have gotten a blowjob tonight. Later, as Dean lies awake in bed trying not to think about Sam getting his dick sucked and the nasty feelings those thoughts create in his belly, he asks him. "Why'd you turn those girls down, man?" Sam glances across at him. He's sitting up in bed reading Dad's journal, and a look of panic fleets across his face before he blinks and calms himself down. "Why'd you turn them down?" he counters. Dean rolls his eyes. "I'm fucking exhausted. Feel like a house fell on me." It almost had, in the shape of bookshelves, tables, couches and a couple of full-length mirrors. Sam had been the lucky one, doing the actual exorcising while Dean distracted the demon. "Oh yeah." Sam returns to his reading, and Dean sits up. "You didn't answer the question," he says softly. "That's cause it's none of your fucking business," Sam snaps. "Why the hell does it bother you that I didn't go and screw some sorority slut?" He's angry now, and he snaps the journal shut and tosses it on the floor before he turns to glare at Dean. "Just... shut the fuck up and go to sleep. Stop worrying about me." He turns the light off, and Dean lies back down. He can't sleep, and he knows Sam can't either. His brother's still frustrated; Dean can hear it in his breathing. "When was the last time you got laid?" Dean asks, right out of the blue. There's a choked sound from the other bed, and Sam goes into a coughing fit. "When did... fuck, Dean, what's wrong with you?" Sam splutters. A badly-thrown pillow lands on Dean's head, and he chuckles as he biffs it back towards Sam. "Just askin', man. It's not healthy to go so long without a good fuck." Dean closes his eyes and tries not to think about Sam fucking him. Someone. Anyone. He's glad the light is off; it's far easier to have a heart-to-heart when the person you're having it with can't see your inappropriate boner. "It's just not so easy for me as it is for you, okay?" Sam says quietly. "Cause of Jess?" There's a long silence, and Dean wonders if he should ask again. "No. Because of... because let's just say I'd have preferred to have exorcised a fraternity house tonight, and then I mighta got some." Dean grins in the dark. Finally. Sam must have been itching to tell him - usually it takes a lot more to weedle secrets out of him. "Did you think I'd have a problem with that?" More silence. "Yeah." "Go to sleep, Sam." Dean waits until Sam starts snoring before dealing with his erection. This time, he imagines fucking Sam, and it must have been a trigger or something because he's done in less than a minute. ~*~*~ A week later, they haven't talked about it, but Sam's looking a bit more relaxed. Fewer introspective silences in the car, less chewing of the lower lip (which does not result in slight swelling of that flesh and then a corresponding swelling in Dean's pants) and Dean's glad his brother's a bit more like his old self. Then he picks up some guy in a bar, and it's all Dean can do not to punch the guy's lights out. It's just like it was the first time - Dean crouches behind the slightly-open door, watching his little brother getting his cock sucked. But then it changes - before he comes, Sam grabs the guy and pushes him face-down onto the bed. Pretty soon he's fucking him, just like Dean's been imagining, and right as Sam's about to come he raises his head and meets Dean's gaze. Fuck! Dean can't look away, can't stop yanking on his cock as Sam bites his lip, smirks, and comes with a groan into the guy's ass. He hides in the Impala. Sam doesn't come to find him, and he hunkers down in the seat, peering over the steering wheel when the guy Sam was fucking leaves. There's no goodbye kiss, just a wave and Sam mouthing thanks. He glances around and chews his lip before going back into the motel room. Dean sits in the car for a long time, trying to think what to do, before creeping back inside and crawling into bed. Sam doesn't stop snoring, and Dean lies awake for hours. A while later, he wakes up to find Sam sitting on the edge of his bed. He's half-naked, and Dean's treacherous eyes slide down his bare chest before snapping back up to his face. A guilty flush rises on Dean's face and he bites his lip. "Something you wanna tell me?" Sam asks, and damn, he's being all stubborn and commanding. "Fuck off," Dean growls, but Sam's not deterred. "You watched me that first time too, didn't you?" he asks. Dean rolls over and buries his head in his pillow as Sam continues. "I thought I saw you behind the door, but wasn't too sure. Then you kept pushing me last week and I was thinking to myself, 'why does he care so much who I fuck?' and I didn't want to admit it to myself, but it kinda clinched it last night." Dean's trying to ignore it, but the calm voice doesn't let up. Sam's thought about this a lot. The bed creaks, and Dean realizes Sam's leaning over him. He rolls over to tell Sam to get off him, but a hand slides under the sheet and wraps around his shamefully hard cock. "Tell me to stop," Sam whispers. Dean doesn't say a word. A while later he finds himself crouched between Sam's thighs, a cock in his mouth and huge, warm hands gripping his head. Sam's moaning and cussing and writhing under him, and Dean just shuts his conscious mind down and concentrates on the taste in his mouth and the fire in his veins. Soon after that, Sam's kneeling in front of him, hands clenched in the sheets as Dean fucks him, not even bothering to pretend it isn't Sam, and he wonders where all his stamina went as he growls and comes inside his brother. Dean doesn't ask how long Sam's been thinking about this. He decides he's better off not knowing. They drive off, heading God-knows-where, and Sam has a foolish grin on his face as he hums along to the music. Dean just shakes his head and hums with him. |
