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Dean can't stand being empty. Since the first time he experimented with his fingers at eleven, he hates being empty. Legitimately hates it. Starts fidgeting and scratching and practically pulling his hair out without something inside him. Fingers, cock, he doesn't care. He just needs to be filled.
So Sam, of course, uses that to his advantage whenever his brother starts acting like a douche.
"Sammyyyyy..."
Sam grins and smooths a finger over Dean's taint, teasing his brother.
"C'mon, please. Gotta..."
And Sam ignores him. He sucks the head of Dean's cock into his mouth, plays with his nipples, touches every
Single
Part
of Dean that he can get his hands on—outside of Dean's body, that is—and Dean's so fucking desperate for something inside him that Sam can't help but draw it out.
“Just a little longer,” he says at Dean’s pathetic mewl.
“I can’t. Please -hic. Please, Sammy.”
Sam languidly strokes Dean’s cock.
“I need…”
Dean reaches down to finger himself, but Sam already knows just how bad Dean wants it, grabs his hands before they can get there and pins them above his head.
“Not yet.”
Dean fucking sobs, but Sam just grins down at him, relishing in the torture of it all.
Dean hasn't been this empty since... fuck it's been at least three years. Most of his days he spends cleaned, plugged, or fucked. He's forced Sam to let him keep his cock warm practically every single time they've fucked because if there's one thing that's guaranteed to make Dean flip his shit it’s to leave him empty for more than a few minutes.
Even Hunting, Dean’s gotta be filled. He has a special plug and everything, one guaranteed to make its presence known without actually distracting him from the task at hand. Took years to find, but Dean’s never been happier.
At this point, though, it's been hours. Hours of Sam kissing and touching and licking every single part of him… except one.
And Dean’s cock's practically screaming at him, but he can't come, not a single drop. Sam’s taken Dean's cock straight into his throat until he was gagging on it, stroked Dean’s cock with that little twist at the end just like he likes it, bit and pulled on his nipples to make him twitch, but still nada, nothing, zip, zilch, zero.
Because he's fucking empty.
“I -I -I -I…” Dean sobs.
And god, Sam's just having the time of his fucking life. He's already come three times, and if the state of his cock is any suggestion, there's gonna be a fourth sometime soon. Fuck, Dean hopes it's inside of him because of Sam doesn’t put something inside of him soon…
Dean bites his lip, tries to pull out of Sam's hold, but he can't say he's even close to as strong as his brother anymore, not since Sam decided to start growing horizontally and filling out with what's pretty much solid muscle. Just one fucking finger is all he needs. Right there. Doesn't even have to go all the way in. He'll take it to the first joint. He just needs something.
"Please, Sammy. C’mon. Please. I'll be so good. So good, Sammy.” Dean’s nearly hyperventilating. “The best. Promise. Do whatever you want. Just... fuck. Please. One finger. Just… one. N -need it, please."
And it could be the desperate tone or the manic look in Dean’s eye or the way he seems right on the cusp of breaking, but Sam cuts him some slack. He holds both of Dean's wrists together with one hand and lets the pad of a fingertip rub gently over the fluttering ring of muscle before sliding inside.
Dean breathes like he's home. All of the tension in his body goes lax with the tip of a single finger inside him. Sam doesn't even make it to his prostate before Dean's spilling between them. Strands of come coat both of their chests, and Dean's on cloud nine, filled just like he needs it.
He whines when Sam removes his finger, ready to fight, but before he can even half-form a plan of attack, he feels the press of his night plug at his rim.
“I’ve got you, Dean.”
Sam slips it inside, nestled in the deepest, most intimate parts of him, and presses a quick kiss to Dean's lips.
"How was that?"
Dean's half-lidded grin is free and unrestrained, something Sam hasn't seen in a long, long time.
"Never again, Sammy," he replies. "Don't think I can handle it. Know I can’t.”
The protest dies on Sam's lips when a hint of fear creeps into Dean's blissful expression.
“Just please, never again."
"Don't worry," Sam reassures him. "I’ll make sure you’re never empty again."
He toys with his brother's plug as Dean drifts off to sleep, a reassured smile on his lips.