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SURRENDER
By Shorts
The sun was shining, but a dark cloud was brewing in the Impala directly over Sam. For the last three hundred miles Dean had suffered through Sam’s fidgeting and bad mood. Looking sideways at his brother, Dean’s eyes narrowed, knowing what Sam was about to do and trying to will him not to.
Sam reached over and pushed the eject button on the cassette player.
“Dude,” snapped Dean, smacking Sam’s hand away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Is it too much to ask for a little silence?” asked Sam, glaring at Dean. “A guy can only take so much . . . noise.”
“Noise?” Dean felt the explosion building inside after four hours of Sam’s bitching. “Queensryche is not noise.” He slammed the cassette back into the player.
“All I want is a little bit of peace,” mumbled Sam, folding his arms across his chest and slumping further in his seat. “Is that too much to ask?”
Struggling against the words that wanted to burst out of him, Dean took a good, hard look at Sam and relented. Reaching out he cut off Nightrider in mid song. “Fine.”
“Thanks,” muttered Sam, turning his attention out the side window.
Dean continued to drive, wondering what the hell was eating at Sam as the silence grew thick between them. When the sun started to set, they entered a decent sized town and he pulled into the first motel he saw, satisfied they had placed enough distance between them and their last hunt.
Tossing his bag in the corner, Sam headed straight for the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.”
Dean closed and locked the door, scanning the typical décor of the room. Shaking his head, he hooked a chair with his foot and pulled it free from the table and sat down. Spinning the laptop to face him, he started searching for their next hunt, but he couldn’t ignore the way Sam had been acting the last couple of days. Sam was moody. That was a given. Something was definitely eating away at him, but by this stage Sam normally spilled whatever it was that was upsetting him, unless it had to do with him. Dean paused, the laptop momentarily forgotten. His stomach clenched at the possibility that Sam had figured out what he had done following the altercation with that poltergeist. The spirit had gotten a lucky shot at him, but what if Sam believed it hadn’t been just luck? That he had dropped his guard on purpose? It wasn’t true, but he had taken a solitary moment to use it without going to Sam for what he needed. Maybe Sam needed his part in that just as much as Dean. The correlation of that thought struck home and he sat back heavily in the chair. Slowly, he closed the laptop and looked toward the closed bathroom door.
Sam continued to stand beneath the hot spray, allowing the soap to rinse off his skin as he once again turned over the image of Dean lying crumpled at his feet. There had been nothing to indicate that what had happened hadn’t been an unfortunate blow by the poltergeist. He had hoped Dean had put all that behind him, but he could never be sure. Not really. Especially when he had come back from a run at the laundromat only to discover a number of the barely healed cuts on Dean’s back had reopened with no explanation as to how.
Stepping out of the shower, Sam roughly dried off, still wrapped in his thoughts. The scary part was he could relate to how Dean felt sometimes. They both dealt with the pressure of bearing the responsibility involving life and death, along with the overwhelming fear of failing. Where Dean feared losing his humanity, he feared losing Dean. Exiting the bathroom, he paused and studied his brother hunched over the laptop at the table. He tried to give Dean what he wanted, but more importantly, what Dean needed to keep him from seeking other, more dangerous avenues. If his assumptions were right, he evidently failed, which put Dean back at risk of pursuing an unacceptable solution.
Dean glanced up and watched Sam yank back the covers on the far bed. He studied the dark, closed off expression on Sam’s face before moving to take his turn at the shower.
There was never an easy solution to anything they faced in their lives, and this was no exception. Sam punched his pillow and curled onto his side, staring blankly as the sound of the shower filled the silence.
Dean stepped into the room, his skin still damp from the hot shower. He walked around the room, turning off lights and checking the door before turning back toward Sam. Without a word he moved to the bed with Sam and slipped under the covers next to him. Scooting closer, he wrapped a firm arm around him and pulled him close, pressing their bodies together from chest to knee.
“Fuck off, Dean,” snarled Sam, pushing hard on Dean’s shoulder. If Dean thought all he needed was a roll in the sheets, he had another thing coming.
“If that’s what you really want, I will,” said Dean, keeping his voice calm and steady. He held perfectly still, but maintained an iron hold around Sam. “But if you’re feeling the way I think you are, that’s the last thing you want me to do.”
Sam’s mouth pinched tight enough to whiten the skin around his lips. For what seemed an eternity he remained unmoving and silent. “You have no idea how I’m feeling.”
“Don’t I?” asked Dean, holding Sam’s gaze with his own.
“I’m not like you, Dean,” snapped Sam.
“Oh, I think we’re more alike than you’re willing to admit,” breathed Dean against Sam’s neck.
Sam shuddered at the warm, moist heat against his skin. “You’re wrong. I don’t seek out pain to remind me who I am.”
“No,” said Dean, pinning Sam with eyes gone hard. “You just crave the power hurting me gives you.” He hadn’t meant for that to come out the way it did, but in the scheme of things it was exactly what he had come to know. He felt Sam tense beneath him and knew he had struck home. He was ready when Sam exploded into motion, shoving and pushing against him. Wrapping his legs around Sam’s kicking, long legs, he hugged him tight, preventing Sam from getting the leverage to break free.
The harsh truth of the words struck Sam and he fought against them as much as against Dean. He twisted and struggled to get away, to run from the part of himself he didn’t want to accept. Not at the cost it stole from Dean. It didn’t matter that Dean had his own reasons, however twisted they were. Gritting his teeth, he yanked his trapped arm free, resulting in striking Dean across the face. That one act froze them both.
“Shit, Dean,” hissed Sam, all the fight had fled from him as he tentatively traced his thumb over the thin trickle of blood on Dean’s bottom lip.
Dean continued to maintain his grip on Sam, not trusting him not to bolt. As they struggled, he was aware of Sam hardening against him. His split lip throbbed and as Sam wiped at the cut, he flinched at the sharp sting of his touch. His reaction caused Sam to twitch to full hardness. Holding Sam’s gaze, he shifted his hips, pressing against the proof that Sam’s body couldn’t hide.
Catching his breath, Sam locked eyes with Dean for a second before capturing his mouth in a hard, deep kiss. The tang of copper seared his tongue and he pressed harder into the kiss, rolling them until he had Dean pinned beneath him.
The reversal of their situation wasn’t lost on Dean and he surrendered to Sam’s unspoken demands. A low, hiss of pain escaped as Sam suckled his lower lip, splitting the cut further. Turning his face away, he barely had time to register the sharp nips on his neck before an ungentle knee shoved his legs apart.
Sam felt Dean’s pounding heartbeat under his mouth as he sealed his lips over Dean’s jugular and a thrill of excitement rushed through him. Reaching down, he gripped Dean’s hips and lifted, angling his pelvis until he pressed against the small, twitching opening. Without really thinking, he started to force Dean to open up and accept him, pressing relentlessly inside.
“Shit, Sam . . . wait . . . ,” choked Dean as raw pain tried to steal his breath away.
Freezing, Sam trembled against the urge to buck hard into Dean. He dropped his head down beside Dean’s neck, drawing in a deep lungful of air. “Where is it?”
Dean motioned with his chin toward the bedside table where he had placed it while Sam was in the shower.
Reluctant to lose any contact, Sam quickly reached over and snagged the lube, fumbling with the lid as he clicked it open. Reaching down he messily applied the slick liquid along his length before tossing the tube in the general direction of the nightstand. Fisting his engorged cock, he spread the lube along his length.
Accepting the fact he would not receive the benefit of being stretched, Dean was just thankful that Sam relented to ease his passage with the lube. Bracing himself, he willed himself to relax as he felt the blunt head of Sam’s cock once again press against him.
Curling his arms beneath Dean’s shoulders and anchoring him with his hands, Sam lunged forward and sunk deep inside with one hard push. Velvet walls clamped down, pulsing around his cock as he rocked their bodies together. His excitement surged at the sound of Dean’s gasp, knowing he was the one responsible for it.
Dean arched, straining against the pain and burn of being impaled. The steady motion as Sam continued to press tight into him had him gasping, trying to adjust to the invasion to his body. His stomach muscles cramped and his partial erection faltered, despite the tiny jolts radiating from the teasing brushes against his prostate. Instinctively he tensed as Sam started to withdraw, biting back a pained yelp as muscles rebelled against the sudden lacking of being stretched.
Sam pulled completely out and snagged Dean’s legs, hooking them over his shoulders before once again lining up and slamming back inside. Slipping his hands under Dean’s shoulders, he effectively controlled Dean’s ability to move. Or not move, as the case was in this position.
Dean bit down on his lower lip, trading one pain for another. Each slide of Sam’s cock sent ripples of pain and pleasure through him and he squeezed his eyes closed, helpless as Sam took his pleasure from him. A puff of hot air brushed the skin beneath his ear as Sam whispered his name.
Capturing soft, swollen lips, Sam nipped once at Dean’s tender lower lip before plundering the wet heat of his mouth. He inhaled hard and fast through his nose, craving Dean’s scent that surrounded him. Each twinge and spasm of Dean’s tight passage pushed him closer to the edge. Dean groaned directly into his mouth and the sensation shot directly to his cock, causing him to buck harder. Too soon he was swept away by his orgasm, crushing Dean beneath him as he rode it out.
Sensitive nerve endings protested as Sam’s cock buried deep inside pulsed out his completion. Tightening his grip on Sam’s arms, he knew his brother would withdraw too quickly as comprehension finally struck home. He couldn’t stop the hiss of pain as Sam did exactly that.
Letting Dean’s legs drop from his shoulders, Sam closed his eyes and dropped his head forward, hiding his face against Dean’s shoulder. “Fuck, Dean. It’s not supposed to be this way. Not like this.”
“It’s okay,” swallowed Dean, willing his features to stone. Cupping the back of Sam’s head, he gripped the soft strands of hair and waited.
“I don’t want to lose you to something that might get out of control,” said Sam, his voice muffled against Dean. “And taking those risks when we hunt, Dean . . .”
“I know,” murmured Dean. “It isn’t always a choice, but at least we can choose the how, if not the why. It’s easier knowing it isn’t all one sided.”
Sam pulled away slightly, staring down at Dean. He suddenly understood that he hadn’t been angry because Dean had possibly risked himself, he had been angry because Dean had sought out release on his own. Glancing down Dean’s body, he realized that Dean hadn’t come, hell, he wasn’t completely hard. He sat back on his heels and ran his hands down Dean’s chest and stomach.
“Don’t,” said Dean, catching Sam’s hand before he could take him in hand. “You don’t have to. No blame, no foul, remember?”
“Like you said,” said Sam, wiggling his hand free from Dean’s grasp. He reached down and lightly ran his thumb once again over Dean’s bottom lip. “For this to work, it can’t be one sided. Ever.” Leaning down, Sam gently placed a chaste kiss on the side of Dean’s mouth before mapping his way down his neck.
The contrast of Sam’s roughness to this gentleness made Dean shiver with awakening need. Stomach muscles jumped and twitched with each slide of Sam’s tongue before he was surrounded by wet heat sliding down his hardening cock. Soothing fingers played with his heavy sacs before slipping further toward his tender opening. He groaned at the sensory overload as lips and tongue teased him while fingers sent sharp jolts of pleasure and pain through his system.
Taking his time, Sam brought Dean to the brink time and time again. Finally relenting and allowing Dean free reign to fuck his mouth, he countered the shifting of Dean’s hips with the rough pressure of his fingers nestled deep inside him.
Clenching his fingers through Sam’s hair, Dean arched, a deep, guttural groan tearing from his throat as he came. He bit down on his split lip when Sam curled his fingers, brushing over his sweet spot at the same time. He hissed between clenched teeth as Sam removed his fingers before crawling up his body to lie beside him.
“Fuck, Dean,” whispered Sam, wrapping his arms tight around Dean. “This just might destroy us.”
“You’re wrong, Sammy,” said Dean. “It’s what will keep us sane.” Reaching up he cupped the back of Sam’s head and tugged him close to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. Carefully, he turned on his side, clasping Sam’s hand close to his chest as they spooned together.
Morning dawned, lightening the room and waking Dean from sleep. Easing himself out of bed and Sam’s embrace, he grimaced with each step toward the bathroom. He had just stepped beneath the hot spray when the curtain parted and Sam entered and pressed close to his back. This was as much a part of the ritual as any.
Dropping his head forward, Dean surrendered to the other side of Sam’s need, to mend his own guilt from the pleasure he took in his pain. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the gentle slide of Sam’s soapy hands over his chest and stomach before skimming around his hips to cup his backside. Long fingers parted his cheeks, seeking out the too tender flesh of his entrance. Instinctively he tensed as pain flared anew with the insistent probing. “Sam . . .”
“Sshh,” soothed Sam, encircling Dean’s waist and hugging him close. “I just need to be sure you’re okay.”
Swallowing, Dean nodded and willed himself to relax beneath the exploring touch. Despite the discomfort he started to respond and inhaled sharply as Sam fisted him, stroking with a firm grip. He tried to squirm away when Sam’s erection brushed against his tender opening.
“It’s okay, Dean,” soothed Sam, tightening his hold. “Just feel.” He moved his hips, bypassing the clenched opening and sliding between Dean’s clenched cheeks until the crown of his cock nudged Dean’s heavy balls before sliding back. Pressing momentarily against the fragile flesh, he’d once again slide forward until he met Dean’s contracting sacs.
Dean shivered, unable to prevent himself from tensing with each tentative push against his rebelling entrance. The anticipation of Sam possibly forcing his way inside had him bucking into Sam’s fist and spilling his orgasm. He felt his knees start to buckle and was helpless as Sam continued to milk him through his climax.
“I got you,” breathed Sam, guiding them both to the bottom of the tub. Rubbing harder and faster against Dean, he strove for his own completion. He pressed the tip of his erection against Dean’s opening as he pulsed his release, denying himself the urge to sink himself deep inside his brother.
For long minutes they remained tangled together on the bottom of the tub before Sam stirred. Reaching down, he helped Dean to his feet. "Are you okay?"
Dean nodded, his legs felt like rubber at the anticipation of Sam taking him, and the relief when he hadn’t forced his way inside his already abused center. Although he knew he would have willingly surrendered to Sam’s demand if that was what he needed, at whatever cost to his own flesh.
In the eerily way Sam has at times, he hesitated and looked intensely at Dean. “This only happens when we both want and need it. Otherwise the cost is too high.”
Dean found himself effectively silenced before he could form words to speak.