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“Shouldn't take me too long to get the rest of these ingredients. I'll be here 'round the same time you get back from getting that vamp's blood, Dean.” Samuel hiked a bag over his shoulder and started for the door. “If I'm not,” he said to Sam, “think you can manage to keep your brother under control?”
Sam glanced at Dean. “Of course.”
oxo
Sam had prepared what he could of the vampirism cure, herbs mixed and muddled, saturated in holy water in a small bowl on the table of his motel room. He stood at the open window looking for any sign of his brother's return. He didn't even hear Dean sneak, shadow-like, into the room – didn't hear him until he wanted to be heard. “He's not back yet?”
Sam nearly jumped out of his skin, whirled around to catch sight of his brother's inhumanly large-irised dark eyes. “No. Not yet. Soon. Any minute.” He could see the itch of the disease under Dean's skin. It showed in the way he held his shoulders, the blurred feline movements.
Dean set the full vial of blood on the table near the bowl and sat in the wooden chair before it. His hands gripped the armrests, knees bouncing. It was only a few seconds, but in Dean's anxiousness, his inability to control his new-found strength, the ends of the armrests where his hands gripped tight dissolved into nothing more than dust. He was back on his feet, pacing the room like a caged animal, eyes darting at Sam every so often before his gaze was focused on his younger brother.
Sam backed away from that hungry stare, felt his blood heating from across the room at the naked lust in Dean's predatory eyes. “Not much longer,” he whispered, voice suddenly rough.
Dean's circuit shifted, took him closer to Sam, closer to the thrumming of the blood in Sam's veins. He groaned, felt his new retractable set of fangs begin to pierce his gums. “You gotta put me down, Sam,” he ground out. “I'm not strong enough to fight this.”
Sam stepped closer. “Yes, you are. Samuel'll be back soon.” He started to reach a hand towards his brother, but Dean slapped it away, somehow suddenly on the other side of the room before Sam even registered the pain blooming across the back of his knuckles.
“Your blood rushing though your veins is all I can hear, Sammy. And I can smell it through your skin. God, I've never wanted anything so bad in my life. You gotta do it. I don't want to hurt you.”
Sam slowly moved forward. “You won't. Can't. You never could.” He crossed the room to where Dean had himself pressed up against the rust-and-gold floral paper of the far wall, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, head turned to the side. Sam paused before him, toes of their shoes nearly touching. “See? You're fine.” But Sam's heart hadn't even finished contracting a beat before he found himself in Dean's position against the faded, peeling wallpaper, Dean's face buried in his neck.
Dean could hear Sam's heartbeat triphammer with the fear he could smell coursing on adrenalin through Sam's blood, fear mixed with the heady scent of his younger brother's arousal. He let the fingers of his left hand twist in the too-long hair at the back of Sam's head and tugged; Sam let him. Dean took the invitation and licked a wide stripe up Sam's throat, over the throbbing pulse point in his jugular, tasting salt and Sam, focused on his own arousal long enough to force his fangs to retract, dragged blunt teeth across Sam's skin.
Sam let loose a breathy moan that had Dean's achingly hard dick pulsing droplets of precome, thin fabric of his boxer-briefs molding to the head as Sam's hips thrust forward to seek more contact with Dean's body. “Fuck. Do it.” One of Sam's hands slid up Dean's back and curled around his neck, straining to keep Dean's mouth on his throat. “Please.”
But Dean knew he couldn't, that Sam didn't really want it, so he easily shook his brother's hand off and spun him around to face the wall. Barely remembered to undo Sam's belt before shoving his brother's jeans down his thighs just enough to bare Sam's ass to him. “Oh fuck, Sam.” Dean slipped a finger between Sam's cheeks still firmly pressed together because of his jeans around his thighs; not much room to work, but enough for Dean to slip a finger inside Sam without preamble.
Sam wheezed, a high-pitched needy sound, and he arched his back, trying to press Dean's finger further inside. “Oh, God. Yes.”
Dean's dick was already sloppy wet and he couldn't wait any longer, not with Sam all flushed and begging and pressed-against-the-wall willing. “Yeah.” Dean used both hands to hold Sam's cheeks apart, used a thumb to press his own dick down to guide it towards Sam's tight hole. He tried to be careful, knew that if he was even just a little too rough, he could tear something inside his brother and make him bleed and that would be the end of both of them. And Dean, God help him, part of him wanted that. Wondered if the heady rush of power he felt buzzing through his body was what Sam felt when he was high on the blood of demons. He used that power, the strength, to pull Sam back against him, Sam's ass flush to Dean's hips. They groaned at the same time, Sam utterly full and Dean completely buried. Then Dean started moving, a rough, punishing pace that had Sam chest to the wall again after a couple thrusts.
“Fuck, Dean, gotta let me get my dick out of my pants.” Sam's hands slipped between his belly and the wall, but could reach himself. “Dean, please.”
One of Dean's hands easily slid between his brother's body and the peeling wallpaper, popped the button and pulled down the zipper, wedged his hand inside the cotton confines and pulled Sam free. “Fuck, Sammy. Wanna bite you so bad,” he ground out into Sam's ear as he frenziedly stroked his brother. “Wanna taste you while I make you come.”
That was enough to send Sam over the edge, his release spurting over Dean's hand, his own stomach, and the wall. “Shit, Dean,” he panted, dropping his head back against Dean's shoulder. “Come on, man. Fuck me.”
Dean pushed Sam's jeans lower, spread Sam's thighs wide enough to drive himself in deeper. “Fuck, Sam. Oh.” One hand pressed low on Sam's stomach, fingers splayed through the mess of Sam's come, to hold Sam tight against him while the other clenched in Sam's long hair to yank his head back far enough for Dean to cover Sam's mouth with his own. He panted his breath into Sam's slack mouth as he came hard, Sam's hips knocking against the wall with the force of it.
Sam found himself suddenly turned with his back to the wall again, Dean on his knees before him, tongue dragging through Sam's tacky come across his stomach. “Jesus.” Dean licked him clean, tucked him back into his jeans as he rose to his feet and pressed his lips to Sam's. Sam opened hungrily beneath him, tasted himself on his brother's tongue and moaned, hands slipping up into Dean's flannel, gripping the fabric and holding him close. Then Dean released his mouth and took a couple steps back. “You- you okay?”
“Am I okay? I'm frickin' awesome. You're the one that just took it up the ass. How are you doing?” A faint ring of green was visible around Dean's wide-blown irises when his eyes met Sam's.
“I'll be fine. In a week.” He offered Dean a dimpled smile.
Dean laughed, sex having taken the edge off his hunger for the moment, and walked over to the open window. He paused, deathly still, face pressed close to the screen. “Samuel's on his way. I better get cleaned up.”
“Dean?” Sam began as his brother walked past him towards the bathroom. “We're okay, right?”
Dean closed his mouth over Sam's. “Better than.” He tweaked one of Sam's nipples then shoved his brother away and locked himself into the bathroom, laughing all the while.