Dean jolts awake, mind still dream-hazy and skin still prickling with brimstone heat. A second ago, he’d been engulfed by intense flames, body alight with pain as countless meat-hooks sliced into his skin, but now he’s blinking in panic into the darkness, senses struggling to catch up with reality because something’s... not right. Something’s on him, and his breath is coming short and fast and he fumbles for the lamp or his gun or—
A warm, firm grip encloses his hips: scarred fingers that Dean would know anywhere. His whole body sinks down onto the mattress in relief as he slips halfway back into drowsiness and mutters, “Sam.”
His tone is a gruff warning, because Sam knows he doesn’t like to be woken for any unnecessary reason, much less on his literal first night back from Hell itself. Sam just huffs out a laugh, though, from between Dean’s legs, and that’s when Dean realises that a) his boxers have definitely disappeared, and b) Sam’s mouth is tantalizingly close to his cock, which, hey, is resting half-hard against his thigh.
“Sam…?” Dean murmurs again, lilting his voice upwards like a question.
“I’m sorry,” Sam says, and his voice is rough as he drops his forehead to Dean’s hip, mouthing at the crease of his thigh. Dean quivers. “I had a dream, and I. I thought you were.” A pause. “Again.”
Dean uncoordinatedly finds Sam’s shoulder in the half-light and squeezes. “’M right here, Sammy.”
“I know,” Sam nods, fingers trailing up Dean’s cock and drawing a shaky, sleepy sound from his lips. “I know, I just—I just gotta—“ and then Dean’s voice cracks on a hoarse moan as Sam sucks his cock into his mouth.
And it’s—fuck, it’s perfect. Sam went down on him earlier – it was pretty much the first thing that happened as soon as they were alone, actually – but somehow this still feels like the first time in forty years. Maybe it’s because earlier it was a whirlwind of movement, hands grabbing and bodies slamming together, and now it’s different. Slower, like Sam could spend all the time in the world right here, hands casually keeping Dean’s legs spread to make room for himself, leisurely lapping at the head of Dean’s cock.
Dean lets out a sigh as Sam works him over, his hands helplessly clutching at his brother’s broad shoulders, his face, his hair. Sam’s such a pretty sight like this, the artificial light from the streetlight outside the window cutting through the blinds and catching on the shine of his stretched, pink lips, the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks, and Dean tries so hard to take it all in but he can’t help his eyes fluttering closed. Sam chuckles around his dick and pulls off briefly to run his tongue along the shaft and murmur, “Yeah, that’s it, just relax. Gonna take care of you.”
Dean arches his back a little and makes a happy, grumbly sound, gasping out as Sam takes him back into his mouth and smoothly slides down-down-down until his nose presses into Dean’s stomach. “Christ,” Dean whimpers as Sam hollows his cheeks and just fucking does it again, just lets Dean’s cock slip into the back of his throat like it’s nothing, and it’s been a long time but Dean doesn’t think he knew how to do that before, doesn’t wanna know where he learned.
The pleasure’s been building so slowly, flames licking up his spine with more and more intensity, that Dean doesn’t even realise how close he is until he’s almost there. Sam’s bobbing his head with a fluid rhythm that turns Dean’s sleepy limbs to jelly, and he bites down on his lip to muffle an embarrassingly girly moan.
“Sam, I-I’m gonna,” he whispers, and Sam only strokes a big hand over Dean’s stomach, gives another pointed suck. “Shit,” Dean moans shakily, hips jerking up wildly as he comes, and Sam keeps his mouth on him the entire time, calmly swallowing everything Dean gives him and suckling gently until Dean’s weak hands are pushing urgently at his head. “Fuck, get off, I can’t...”
“What,” Sam says quietly, the dangerously playful tone of his voice making Dean lift his head from the pillow to meet his eyes, “you think we’re done?”
Dean’s brain struggles to catch up as Sam chuckles, moves off the bed to get something; before Dean knows what’s happening, though, there’s a slick finger teasing around his rim, where he’s still open from their earlier reunion. “Sammy,” he breathes, even more wrung out than he was when his brother originally woke him but still canting his hips towards Sam’s touch, automatically pressing down against his fingertip in a silent plea.
Sam drops his head down to mouth at Dean’s nipple, catching it between his teeth as he pushes in with one long finger, Dean easily opening up beneath him. The slide is smooth and slick and Dean finds himself drifting away again, keeping himself anchored with his hand on Sam’s neck. He’s only awake enough to spread his legs wider when he’s ready for more, to roll his hips onto Sam’s hand and make breathy little noises, and he’s not sure how much time passes but he comes to a point where Sam’s two fingers are deep inside him and his cock is trying its best to get hard again where it lies on his stomach. He mumbles something unintelligible, shuddering as Sam crooks his fingers.
“What was that, Dean?” Sam chuckles, biting down on Dean’s nipple as he spreads his fingers.
“Fuck—fuck me,” Dean whispers. “Bitch.”
Sam laughs again, hushed and low, and then there’s a blunt, slick pressure at Dean’s hole and Sam doesn’t wait, just pushes and pushes until he slides home and Dean’s moaning all high-pitched and fragile in his throat. “Jerk,” Sam grins down at him, breathing harshly into Dean’s mouth.
Dean only whines in response, and Sam fits their mouths together because he knows what that sound means.
Sam’s cock is hard and burning hot, bare inside him as he pulls back tortuously only to slide back in at the exact same pace. Dean can feel the give of his own muscles, feel himself letting Sam in again and again, fucking him nice and slow. It’s not exactly gentle – it never is with the two of them, it’s not in their nature and they don’t try to force it – but it’s a lot less rough than usual, Sam’s muscular body completely blanketing him as he moves inside of him. Dean just hangs on, clings to him with his arms around his shoulders and his legs wrapped around his waist, letting himself get lost in the sensation. He doesn’t think he has the energy not to get lost in it, anyway.
There’s no pain in it, no struggle to accommodate his length because Dean’s body is running on autopilot and, besides, it’s second nature now. He just lets it happen, gasping with every thrust, and the minutes all meld into one. He can still feel how Sam fucked him earlier, he’s still chasing the goosebumps from his last orgasm, and the oversensitivity makes him shiver, melting into the mattress. Then, Sam pauses, and Dean cracks one questioning eye open. “You are so not still falling asleep,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
Dean flushes and shrugs.
“Dude, c’mon,” Sam laughs, “there’s a point where that’s just insulting,” and before Dean knows what’s happening Sam’s pulling out and manhandling him around, flipping him over and pulling and positioning until he’s on all fours. Without even giving Dean a chance to breathe, Sam slides back in, faster than before, and Dean chokes on a moan, fingers curling in the pillows as his knees slip further apart.
“S-Sam,” Dean stutters, the possessiveness in Sam’s tight grip on his hips sending a shudder up his spine. Sam grunts in response, still keeping to his slow thrusts but putting more force behind them, like each one means something, like he’s pouring the purest of his feelings into such a dirty act.
Dean’s cock hangs heavy between his legs, hard again by now and slick at the tip, and his arms are shaking from holding himself up. His entire body aches – from everything; Hell, the journey back to Sam, the fucking he’d had when he finally got to him. He’s exhausted and wrung out, and as much as he pushes his ass back onto Sam’s cock and tilts his hips to try to get him deeper, he can feel the muscles straining in his arms.
Sam seems to get it, though, because he leans forward – his cock shifts, makes Dean moan as it slides over the sweetest goddamn spot inside him – slides one arm around Dean’s chest and tugs him up off his hands and holds him against his chest. Dean shivers. The powerful snaps of Sam’s hips don’t let up, but he noses along Dean’s jaw to bite at his neck, his earlobe. Dean relaxes completely in Sam’s strong arms, just hangs there and lets Sam hold him up, head tipped back on Sam’s shoulder.
“God,” Sam mutters through gritted teeth, pressing his mouth against the back of Dean’s neck, “feel so fuckin’ good. Look at you. So goddamn good for me. Never been so – fuck – glad to wake you up.”
“Gonna make you regret it later,” Dean warns him, but his voice lacks any kind of force, breathy and punctuated by a moan.
“Yeah?” Sam laughs roughly. “Maybe I should stop, then.”
Dean knows he’s joking, but his sleep-addled brain is slow to catch on, and he clutches Sam’s hand where it’s splayed on his stomach. “Don’t,” he mumbles, gasping at a particularly deep thrust, “don’t you fuckin’ stop, Sammy.”
Sam grins – Dean can’t see it but he can feel the shape of his mouth on his neck, and he doesn’t know why it’s so hot that he knows exactly how deep those dimples are without even looking at his face – and does exactly what he’s told, carries on with the same relentless rhythm. Dean starts to whimper because it’s overwhelming, he’s hot all over and his skin is tingling infuriatingly, and he reaches down to grasp desperately at his cock, needing to come. “No,” Sam murmurs, half-playful, and grabs Dean by the wrist to move his hand away.
“Fuck,” Dean moans, “Sam—“
“Just this,” Sam growls, suddenly surprisingly aggressive, and Dean squirms on his cock, reaching an arm back to tug on Sam’s hair, tilting his head to the side in the hopes that Sam will kiss him. He does – of course he does – tongue sliding against Dean’s, teeth catching on his lip. Dean can feel his cheeks flushing because he can’t keep quiet, moans cracking and breaking in his throat as Sam fucks him.
“God,” Dean whimpers, tightening himself around Sam’s dick just to hear him growl in his ear, and Sam finally, finally picks up the pace, snapping from slow to lightning fast in a heartbeat. Dean cries out, his cock leaking as Sam fucks him faster, splitting him open again and again, and before he can catch up with it all, he’s coming a second time, spurting all over himself and curling in on himself, relying solely on Sam as the only thing holding him up.
Sam gently sets him down on the bed so he’s leaning on his elbows, forehead resting on the bed. He’s still inside him but he doesn’t move until Dean turns his head to the side and smirks idly up at him, arching his back mainly for Sam’s benefit.
“Think I’m gonna break?” he asks, voice rough. “Lived through a lot worse, Sammy.”
Sam shakes his head at him but smiles, ducks his head like he’s shy even as he pulls back and slams home, fucking Dean easy and open, and that’s just another reason Dean has for loving the crap out of the kid. It doesn’t take long, and for Dean it’s all hazy, sensations swimming in his overloaded mind. He registers Sam’s telltale groan, his come filling him up inside, and he lets out an appreciative whimper.
As soon as Sam pulls out, Dean collapses back down onto the bed, wriggling a little and stretching his limbs out. “Fuck,” he says sleepily.
“Yeah.” Sam flops down next to him, not hesitating to reach over and pull Dean into a slow, lingering kiss, cupping his face like he’s his goddamn high school sweetheart. Dean doesn’t complain, though – because he doesn’t have the energy, or something like that.
“Y’know I’m still gonna beat your ass in the mornin’ for wakin’ me up, right?” Dean mumbles, arching an eyebrow.
“Damn,” Sam replies, thumping a fist on the pillow. “Thought I fucked that sass right out of you.”
Dean snorts out a laugh. “Idiot.”
“Missed you too,” Sam murmurs, quirking one corner of his mouth upwards. Dean rolls his eyes but lets his brother snuggle closer, smiles into his broad chest as he sinks into a sweetly dreamless sleep.