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Skin In The Game

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Everything hurts when you're sixteen and in love. Sam remembers that feeling like it was only yesterday. If he's being honest, he wasn't really sure whether or not he grew out of that "heart beats only for you" desperate needy phase and a part of him knew he never would. Growing up glued to another person, hanging off of their frayed blue jean belt loops, was bound to form a lasting impression on Sam's babysoft mind, and the Winchester boys were far from normal. Sam was far from normal.

He likes red lips, red cheeks, red gouges on his brother's knuckles after a hunt. Something about it lights a fire in his stomach and sends his body into overdrive. It makes him feel warm on the inside, as if simply seeing the color is enough to make his own blood sizzle in his veins. Maybe it was just the teenage hormones screaming at him, itching to make their way to the surface, or the years of monster guts and decapitations sending him into fight or flight. He highly doubted it though. The honest to god truth is that Sam's one kinky son of a bitch. He craves the feeling of teeth marks in his neck, running his tongue along freckled skin on hot summer days, dirty fucks in gas station bathrooms. Anything to get his pulse racing while he exposes all the squishy parts of his red, beating heart.

Sam wasn't normal. He'd never be normal, and killing monsters wasn't the only reason why. The big elephant in the room was the fact that he would willingly bend over and beg "please" for his big brother. It was mutual, so there was no reason to deny the parts of himself he was dying to explore, but Sam was still afraid of how much he wanted it. How much he wanted Dean. It all began as a tiny voice in his head, knocking on the doors anytime Sam found himself with a moment alone, until it eventually grew to a beating roar hammering away at every inch of Sam's brain.

Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean.

A few years ago, he'd been brave enough to try out a couple new tricks on the more mundane side of life. Lacey underwear, handcuffs, blindfolds. The kinda things no sixteen year old boy should ever be trusted with. It was fun, there's no doubt about that, but it didn't quite scratch the itch he was dying to take care of. Somewhere along the way, Sam grew from a love struck kid to an eighteen year old beast, dying to sink his teeth into every square inch of his brother's flesh.

Fucking your brother definitely isn't normal. Sam knew that. Quite honestly, he didn't care. But the fact that Sam's every waking thought was consumed with images of Dean under him, over him, inside him was starting to be a little too much.

"You gonna sit on your ass all day, or are you gonna help me?" Dean's voice suddenly cut through Sam's internal monologue.

Sam sipped thoughtfully on his beer, then looked at his brother all covered in grease. "I think I'm good here."

"Of course you are," Dean grumbled, standing up straight. He ran the back of his hand over his forehead, wiping away the sweat forming under the hot Louisiana sun.

"What do you need me for anyways?" Sam asked, taking another sip of his drink. "You seem to have things under control."

"Yeah, well, you better not let Dad see you. He might make you run sprints."

"Ooh, terrifying." Sam rolled his eyes. His father wasn't very high on his list of favorite people right now.

"Aren't you a little old to be acting like a brat?" Dean asked him, slamming the Impala's hood shut.

"I thought you liked bratty."

"I do," Dean agreed, shooting his younger brother a lewd grin. "That doesn't mean Dad does."

"Whatever. I can't satisfy the man no matter what I do."

"He's certainly not the Winchester man you should worry about satisfying." Dean said.

"Don't tempt me," Sam warned.

Dean smiled then sighed, shaking his head. He grabbed a beer from the cooler and started tapping his fingers against the bottle. "Sammy, all jokes aside, you're eighteen now. Don't you think it's time you and Dad worked out all your crap?"

"I really don't feel like talking about this right now."

"You don't feel like talking about it ever. Neither of you do."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down."

Dean's eyes widened in shock at the tone in his brother's voice, but he obliged, cracking open the bottle and plopping down in the grass next to Sam. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, taking slow, steady gulps. Sam watched the gentle movements of his brother's throat, and a new wave of anger flared up inside of him. If Dad weren't here, he would've been able to lean over and suck a bruise right into Dean's neck. Push him down on his back and make him let out all those gruff noises Sam likes hearing so much. He bit his lip to keep from bad mouthing John any more. Dean doesn't like it very much.

"Find any cases nearby?" Sam asked instead.

"Think so," Dean said. "Woman went missing about twenty miles away. Police found her body in the woods with her heart ripped out."

Sam hummed. "You going?"

They locked eyes for a moment, a thousand implications hanging in the air between them. "Do you want me to?"

"What do you think?"

"I...think we're almost outta money. There's a shop nearby that could use a good mechanic. Dad says we're gonna be here about a month longer, so we should keep a low profile."

"That's what I like to hear," Sam said, turning away from Dean. He missed the way his brother's breath wavered, always thrilled to earn Sammy's approval.

"I aim to please," Dean said.

Sam's fingernails dug into his palms, arousal shooting through him in an unexpected wave. "Is that so?"

"If anyone should know, it's you." Dean's pupils were slowly getting bigger, face flushed. Sam's mouth started to water, and for a second, he didn't care that their dad was only 50 feet away in the motel room.

"You haven't let me touch you in weeks," Sam said, only a little bitter. Him and Dean would always be bonded in ways words couldn't properly explain, but things have been weird between them lately. A lot of it had to do with Sam's poor relationship with their father, and the rest of it was...well...Sam didn't really know. "I think I need a reminder."

Dean suddenly looked conflicted. "Sammy, we talked about this."

"Yeah, yeah, we need to be more careful so things don't get suspicious, dad's around too much-"

"Dad is around too much right now," Dean said, cutting Sam off.

"I don't really care," Sam said. "You know there's ways to get around him. We've done it before."

Dean's gaze was directed at the ground between his legs. "Sammy, you know that's not the only reason why."

"Jesus," Sam scoffed, "This shit again. We didn't even get caught! You're acting like he saw us."

"I don't really care," Dean said, parroting Sam's words and sharp tone. "I told you, we need to be careful."

"Boys!" John's loud bark cut through their conversation. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. "Come inside. I need your help with research."

Sam shook his head, knowing that Dean was already dying to obey John's order, but afraid of upsetting his brother. "Go. Dad's waiting."

Dean stood up quickly, brushing the dirt off his jeans. He cast one more conflicted glance at Sam before heading for the door. Sam polished off the rest of his beer, and threw the bottle into the street, watching as it shattered.


A couple hours later, Sam sat on his bed and curled over the pages of a book. Dad had gone out to the store about an hour ago, and Dean was off talking to the guys from the shop about getting a job. Sam's mind began to drift into the secret places he keeps for himself. Don't get him wrong, he was still pissed at Dean for being so distressed over a harmless little incident that happened a few months ago, but that didn't mean he wasn't dying to get his hands hands all over him. One close call, one little slip-up, and suddenly Dean started taking a completely hands-off approach. The lack of contact was driving Same absolutely mad, hands automatically gravitating towards Dean anytime they were within five feet of each other.


"We can do it, Dean. C'mon, we just gotta be quick."

"Sammy, we can't. He'll be done filling up in two minutes, we have to go."

"We can say there was a line."

"Yeah, like that'll work. This place is dead."

Sam grabbed Dean by the shirt and threw him into the nearest stall, slamming the door shut. "Kiss me."


"I said kiss me."


Things have been extra bad between Sam and John lately. They butted heads constantly, and John didn't like how close his boys were. He constantly looked at Dean as if he were a prize to be lost, treating Sam as the demon trying to take his little boy away. It was obvious who Dean belonged to, who he's always belonged to, and John was a fool to believe anything but. Sam knew he had Dean wrapped around his finger, but that was nothing compared to the way he wanted to rip his brother in half and crawl inside him. Spend an eternity sharing the same breath, same heartbeat, same body.


Dean didn't know how to tell his baby brother no, so he leaned in helplessly. Sam instantly melted against the heat of his brother's body, fingers finding their way beneath worn out cotton and scraping over hard muscle. Dean opened his mouth hungrily, licking his way into Sam's mouth with a desperate, "damn you" fervor.

"Fuck me," Sam begged softly against Dean's mouth. "Do it, fuck me. I bet you I'm still open from last night."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, completely enthralled by the boy in front of him. "You gonna make all the same pretty noises too?"

"Only if you earn them."

Dean started unbuckling his pants hastily, Sam following suit. They were so caught up in each other, they almost missed the bathroom door opening.


"Fuck," Sam muttered to himself. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling a little when they got caught in a knot. "My brother's driving me crazy."

It was hard to focus on reading while a million thoughts of green eyes and longing were swirling through his thoughts. He was torn between the desire to knock some sense into Dean, or pin him down on the bed and make him beg for his little brother. Both options were tempting, neither would be very productive, but one of them made Sam a lot happier than the other. He felt the moment his mind went all foggy, suddenly clouded with the desire to shove Dean's bloody fingers down his throat. Suck them until his brother was hard. Sam was so touch-starved that even the thought of a hand on his thigh made his gut sizzle. He started biting at his thumbnails and bouncing his leg to try and let out some of his pent up frustrations. He didn't expect it to make much difference, but it made some irrational part of his brain feel better.


"Sam? Dean? You in here?"

Sam froze, but Dean was quick to act, hoisting Sam up so his feet weren't touching the floor, making him invisible to anyone looking beneath the stall.

"Yeah, Dad I'm in here!" Dean called back, giving Sam an angry I-told-you-so glare.

"Where's Sammy?"

"He said something about going behind the store. Thought he could get a better look at the mountains from back there. Wanted to see if he could figure out what kinda rocks it was made of for his science class."

John's grunt was unamused. He didn't like how invested Sam was in school. "Hurry the hell up. I'm going to sit in the car. Go find your brother and tell him if he doesn't get his ass back in two minutes, he'll have to deal with me."

"Yes, sir."

The door closed and Dean put Sam back down. Sam was buzzing on the adrenaline of almost being caught, wishing that Dean had already been inside of him when their dad opened the door, slowly fucking into his brother while trying to maintain his composure. Dean? Not so much.

"Dammit Sam! You know how bad that coulda been?" Dean slapped his palm against the tile wall behind Sam's head.

"We're fine," Sam assured. "He didn't suspect anything."

"Doesn't matter!" Dean hissed, trying to keep his voice low and stern. "We would've been dead! Never again, you understand me? I'm puttin' boundaries in place. We don't do this until dad is in another state, got it?"

Dean gave Sam no time to protest before storming out of the bathroom. Sam slumped against the wall and ran his fingers through his hair, realizing for the first time how bad he fucked up.


"Homework got you stumped?" Dean said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. A few years ago, that would've made him jump, but now that he was working cases almost regularly, the only reaction Sam had was to tighten his fists. Always ready to end whatever fight the monsters started.

"Yeah, let's go with that."

Dean's face creased with concern. "Somethin' wrong?"

Sam ran his fingers roughly through his hair. "Oh, I'm peachy fuckin' keen."

"Yeah? Good to know, sunshine. 'Cause from the looks of it, someone did a real good job pissin' you off," Dean said. He had that stupid, smug smirk on his face and Sam wanted nothing more than to fuck it right outta him.

"Lose the grin, asshole."

Dean put his hands in the air, feigning innocence. "I have no idea what you mean. Anyways, I got the job. Dad said I can stay here with you. Bobby's in the area, so he's gonna take the case with Dad so you can finish taking your finals."

Sam was shocked, but not because Bobby offered to help Sam with school. He always did his best to make sure that Sam had enough time to pursue an education. Sam was shocked that Dad was letting them both stay behind. "Really?"

Dean fluttered his eyes a few times. "Would I lie to you?"

Sam flicked his tongue over his bottom lip, pretending not to notice Dean staring at it. "Not if you know what's good for you."

"Hm, and what is good for me?" Dean asked.

Sam narrowed his eyes, suddenly fed up. "You get off on this? Leading me on, then telling me I'm not allowed to touch you? I told you, we're fine! One mistake, one little accident! That's all it was."

"I'm not leading you on," Dean protested.

"Jesus christ," Sam slammed his book shut. "How's this fair to me? Get me all worked up then do nothing about it. You're such a dick."

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe you should go find a girl."

"That what this is about? I finally scare you off, so now you're just throwing me to the side? Telling me to go find some random chick and deal with things on my own?" Sam's tone was still angry, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't just a little bit worried.

"Now you're just being a drama queen," Dean said.

Sam jumped to his feel and stalked across the room, pushing his brother against the wall. There was a blush creeping up Dean's neck. Sam caught it peeking the slightest bit above his shirt collar. Dean's throat only ever turned red when he was aroused, which meant he was enjoying this. Suddenly, the pieces started clicking for Sam.

"Wait a damn minute," he began. "Are you- are you playing the game?"

Dean snorted. "What gave you that idea? We haven't done that in...God, two years?"

"I know," Sam said, slowly releasing his grip on Dean. "But this- this not letting me touch you bullshit. Are you trying to play the game to get back at me for what happened?"

Dean was good at lying to everyone except Sam. The look in his eye revealed the truth instantly.

"You son of a bitch," Sam said. His eyes were finally level with Dean. Their shoulders were the same size, hands just as big, legs just as long.

"Hey, don't talk about our mother like that," Dean teased, a smirk slowly tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Okay," Sam said calmly. "Fine. That's how it's gonna be, huh?"

"I guess so. What are you gonna do about it?"

Sam looked down at Dean's lips and brought his arm harshly against Dean's throat, pinning him to the motel door once again. The wood shook under the impact. Their chests were heaving, rising and sinking at the same time, breaths perfectly in sync. "I know exactly what I'm gonna do. And I don't think you'll like it very much."

"Try me," Dean challenged.

"You think you're the only one who can play games? Cause I seem to remember the last time we did this, I won. And now, when I win again, you'll be screaming so loud Dad will hear it no matter how far away he is," Sam said. His mouth was against Dean's ear, voice low and gravelly. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, every time you sit down for the next six months you'll be forced to think about how you did this to yourself. You started it. And when I'm finished with you, you'll be begging me for it like the slut we both know you are."

Sam let go of Dean and gave him a small smile, like nothing even happened. He stripped off his shirt and headed for the bathroom, knowing for a fact his brother had his eyes on his every move.

Game on, Sam thought. Point me.


The next morning, their father was gone. Sam could tell by the way he was able to blink his eyes open slowly, without being rushed to his feet for more training. The motel room was silent and Dean was nowhere to be found. Sam figured he was away at his new job. He checked his phone, just to be sure and was pleased when he saw a message from his older brother.

Working. Should be back around 6. Call if there's an emergency.

Sam's mind began swirling with a thousand possibilities, scheming of ways to torture Dean while he was working, unable to do anything about it. He though back to the last time they played this game, when Dean sent him a picture of his dick while Sam was in class. For a moment, he considered doing the same thing, but decided that he wanted to up the ante.

Hopping out of bed with an evil plan in mind, Sam began searching for Dean's duffle bag, rooting through it for the biggest flannel he could find. Although him and Dean were of equal height, his brother still had a few pounds on Sam. His shoulders were still a little bit broader, his chest just a little bit more defined. Normally, Sam was jealous of the fact that Dean had already bulked up while he was still stuck in all his lanky limbs, but today he planned to use that to his advantage. Eventually, Sam found something in Dean's bag he could use, pleased with the way it hung loosely over his body, slipping off his shoulders gently, exposing the sharp jut of his collarbones. He had a pair of denim shorts from when he was 14 crammed to the bottom of his own bag, and Sam decided to cut an extra inch off the bottom, making sure they only came down to the middle of his thigh. They were practically invisible under Dean's shirt and Sam was pleased with what he saw in the mirror. Deciding to take things a step further, he managed to find his cherry chapstick, which always left a red tint to his lips. Sam slathered it on generously, making sure to turn his mouth as pink and kissable as possible. He smeared a little on his finger tip and rubbed it into his cheeks, which made him look flush. There wasn't much to do with his hair, because the fresh-outta-bed tousle added to his whole "fuck me" look.

Sam grabbed his keys then headed outside, preparing himself for the twenty minute walk to the shop. Thankfully, the sun hadn't fully risen, which meant he could spare himself some suffering. The walk wasn't terrible, and Sam found himself daydreaming as he walked down the road, gazing at all the trees. He imagined what it would be like for he and Dean to settle down in a place like this permanently, without any monsters or family drama. Sam could get used to the small-town life, buying a little house and making friends with his neighbors. Eventually, Dean would like it too, having a place to call home instead of constantly moving around all the time. He pretended not to mind, but Sam knew that there was a part of Dean who craved something more domestic. He always paid attention to the way Dean got creative while making food, or how he liked to set out a few personal items every time they stayed somewhere longer than a week. It was obvious that Dean liked to make things feel like home.

By the time Sam got to the shop, the sun was starting to beat down on his back. He could feel himself growing warm under his brother's flannel and had no doubt that a real blush had bloomed on his cheeks. He approached the garage slowly, keeping an eye out for his brother. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen. Another one of the guys who was there had spotted Sam and walked over quickly to greet him.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, wiping his hands with a red towel.

"Hi," Sam said, turning on his world-famous puppy dog charm. "I'm looking for Dean."

"The new guy?"

"Yeah, that would be the one."

The guy hesitated for a moment then tilted his head, studying Sam. "Pity. I'd like to talk to you a little more."

A new idea began blooming in Sam's mind. He turned his eyes to the ground and gave out a shy laugh, playing the stranger for the ignorant man he was. "Me? Really?"

The man leaned against one of the nearby cars and gave Sam a smile that most likely worked on people who weren't Sam. By the looks of it, he was probably in his early thirties. His arms were bulky, made even more obvious when he folded them across his chest. He had blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, a combination that wasn't exactly Sam's favorite, but he was a good looking dude nonetheless.

"Yeah, why not? Trust me, whatever you want from Dean, I can give to you ten times better." He smirked and flicked his tongue across his teeth.

Sam met his gaze a took a few steps closer. "And what exactly do you think I plan on getting from Dean?"

The man put his hand on Sam's waist and drew him in closer. "You tell me, and I promise I'll deliver."

Sam opened his mouth, but before he got the chance to say anything, Dean's voice was cutting through the air.

"Mark, you better tell me right now what the hell you're doing with your hands on my little brother!"

Sam looked to his left and saw Dean stalking over to them, a scowl set deeply in his face. His shoulders were tense, ready to start throwing punches if necessary, and there was a grease stain on his cheek. Sam's gut instantly started doing butterflies.

"Hey, Winchester," Mark said, smile still in place. He removed his hand from Sam's waist, but didn't bother taking a step back. "We were just having a conversation, that's all."

"You ask him to touch you like that?" Dean said to Sam, ignoring Mark completely.

"Relax," Sam said, leaning in a little closer to Mark's side just to set Dean off. "I'm fine, Dean. Like he said, we were just having a conversation."

"Why are you here?"

"He was actually looking for you," Mark said.

Dean shot him a hard glare. "I wasn't talkin' to you, I was talkin' to Sammy."

Mark looked down at Sam with an amused smile. "Sammy, huh?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's Sam," he said, petulant as always.

"Whatever," Dean said, grabbing Sam by the wrist and dragging him away from Mark. "Keep your hands off him. He's still in high school."

Mark laughed and took a step back. "Okay, okay. I'm playing nice, I promise. I gotta get back to work anyways. It was very nice to meet you, Sammy," Mark said, giving him a wink as he headed back to whatever he was doing before this.

"This how you get your rocks of now, huh? Old men?" Dean hissed.

"Old? Jesus, Dean he's only like thirty."

"Yeah, and you're eighteen. Bit too much of an age difference, if you ask me. You never answered my question, what are you doing here? Did you come just to flirt with my boss?"

"No, I came here to see you," Sam said. "I was bored at home, figured I'd come see what you were up to."

"Not dressed like that, you weren't." Dean eyes were scouring over Sam's body from head to toe, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, fingers clenching and unclenching tightly.

"Oh, this old thing? I just threw it on. Figured it would be hot out, so I wanted to fight the heat," Sam said. He gave Dean his best, "please I'm innocent" look. Dean wasn't buying it.

"Come here," he demanded, leading Sam to the back of the store. He followed obediently, catching Mark's eye and blowing him a kiss, before being led through a door that took them to the back of the shop.

Dean wasted no time pushing Sam against the wall, keeping his brother pinned there with his hips. "You're a fuckin' tease, y'know that? Come here all dressed up like someone who spreads their legs for the whole baseball team."

"Hmm," Sam hummed, "That actually sounds like a fun idea."

Dean chucked darkly. "Oh, yeah? Think any of them could get you screamin' the way I do? Find all your sweet spots, smack you around the way you like?"

"Maybe not," Sam shrugged, "But I like to try new things."

Dean's gaze hardened and he started deep into Sam's eyes like he could reach in there and close his fist around his little brother's heart with nothing but his mind. "Yeah? Well I'm gonna-"

"You're gonna what?" Sam challenged, raising an eyebrow. "You're gonna fuck me? Go ahead. I like it when you lose."

Dean suddenly pulled back like he'd been burned. "Fuck!" he said. Sam smiled, pleased that his brother had already forgotten their little game. He stayed silent while his brother paced back and forth a few times, running calloused fingers through his short hair.

"Fine," Dean said after a moment. "Fine. Why don't you go ahead and find Mark, and I'll get back to work."

Sam was a bit baffled. Obviously, Dean was jealous, Sam knew as much. But Dean was clearly aware of the fact that Sam had no interest in Mark, he only had an interest in messing with Dean. Somehow, Sam couldn't figure out what Dean's goal was here. "Why would I do that? Are you trying to lose?"

"For whatever reason you'd like," Dean said. "I'm still on the clock, so I should be getting back. I'll see you at the motel."

Dean clapped Sam once on the shoulder, then went back inside, leaving his brother alone and dumbfounded. Nonetheless, Sam felt Dean's sudden lack of interest him as a big loss.

Point Dean.


It was obvious that Sam needed a different approach. The slutty little bottom flirting with Dean's boss wasn't going to work, which meant Sam needed to up his game. What's strange is that Dean hasn't been doing much to retaliate, even when he was the only one who knew they were playing. Sure, he'd been baiting Sam every once in a while with some cheap dirty talk, but he wasn't actively trying to torture his little brother. Sam pondered over this while he was walking home, trying to think about what had changed. Dean used to go nuts over the thought of Sam being touched by someone else, especially when he was all dressed up in Dean's clothes. The thought of Sam getting fucked used to be enough to drive Dean crazy, an all-consuming visual of them tangled up in their bedsheets, panting and moaning and kissing and please Dean please.

Apparently, that phase was over.

It hurt Sam, if he was being honest, and he felt like he wasn't as desirable as he used to be. Maybe this whole thing was Dean's way of telling Sam he didn't want to be together like that anymore. It was hard to believe that that could be it. Dean was constantly asking Sam what he was up to, wondering how he was doing in school, asking him about his future. When Sam said he wasn't sure what his future might hold, Dean seemed to get quiet, almost as if Sam was saying Dean's place in Sam's future was up in the air. It was impossible to imagine a world where Sam and Dean weren't Sam and Dean. The thought of them being separated was unfathomable.

Shaking off his worries, Sam put himself in his usual attire, a tight v-neck and jeans. Maybe he was being too obvious before, that his little stunt was all for show. When Dean got back, he'd take a more natural approach, just like his big brother had been doing all along.

The elder came home a few hours later, when the sun in the sky was fading into a dark red glow on the horizon. He looked exhausted, more so than usual and Sam was hoping it had something to do with the shit he pulled with Mark earlier. Chances are, Dean was simply worn out from a hard days work, but a boy could dream.

"You eat yet?" Dean asked as he began stripping out of his dirty clothes.

"No," Sam said, eyes glued to his brother's naked back, "I was waiting for you. Figured we could order a pizza or something."

"Ung," Dean groaned, "God, I love pizza. Yeah that works for me, call whoever you wanna call."

"Why can't you do it?" Sam asked.

"Because," Dean said, "I'm beat and I don't feel like thinking."

Sam rolled his eyes but picked up the phone anyways. "Fine. But we're getting peppers if I'm gonna do all the hard work."

Dean snorted. "You wanna call that hard work? You should see the bullshit I have to put up with all day."

"Aw shucks," Sam said, "Mark talking about me that much?"

Dean gave Sam a deadpan look. "No, actually, he didn't mention you after you left."

Sam played it off. "Eh, whatever. I'm sure his imagination kept him busy."

"You wanna keep droolin' over my boss, or do you wanna order us the damn pizza?"

Sam flashed his million dollar smile and began dialing, staying true to his word by ordering half with bacon (for Dean) and half with peppers (for himself). During the few minutes Sam was on the phone, Dean managed to find something semi-interesting for them to watch on their shitty TV. It was by no means a quality film, but seeing the way horror stories were adapted into Hollywood media gave Same a laugh every once in a while.

"Is that guy supposed to be the funny one?" Dean asked after a few minutes. "Because he's so not funny."

"Nah, he's supposed to be the hot one," Sam said, sitting down on the bed next to his brother. He felt Dean flick his eyes over in his little brother's direction, the two of them shoulder-to-shoulder and thigh-to-thigh.

"I thought the brunette chick was supposed to be the hot one," Dean said.

"She is. And so is that guy. They're the hot couple who spend too much time fucking to worry about saving their lives," Sam said. It reminded him of himself in a way, too busy being consumed by his desire for Dean that hunting always took a backseat role in his young life.

"Poor girl. That dude definitely isn't in her league."

"Y'think so?" Sam asked. He studied the guys features. Dark eyes, dark hair, mid-twenties. "I dunno. I'd fuck him."

Sam could see Dean's jaw clenched from the corner of his eye. "So, you just got a thing for bending over for older dudes now?"

"Who said anything about me being the one to bend over?"

Dean swallowed hard. Sam heard it and met his big brother's gaze.

"You've always had no problem spreading your legs for me," Dean said, only missing a slight beat.

"Yeah, when I was like 15," Sam said. "I'm getting older now. My tastes are changing."

It was a gamble for Sam to announce that he'd taken an interest in topping. If he's being honest, he felt like one of the reasons Dean was okay with their unconventional relationship was because of the fact that he wasn't the one taking it in the ass.

"Oh," Dean said. Sam expected him to continue, but he remained silent.

"What?" Sam asked eventually.

"Nothing. I just didn't realize, that's all. Thought you liked the whole bratty bottom thing."

"I do," Sam agreed. "When I'm in the mood for it."

"Well," Dean began hesitantly, "What are you in the mood for now?"

Sam looked over at his brother with hooded eyes. Dean's face was red and he kept fidgeting around nervously, like he was realizing for the first time he might be the one getting bent over. Because he was. Sam had already decided that.

"I dunno," Sam said, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip. "Haven't really had a chance to think about it."

That was a blatant lie. Sam had pictured putting his brother in nearly every position imaginable over the last two months. He hoped it didn't show on his face, but the way he was unable to keep his eyes from burning holes into Dean's body was probably a dead giveaway.

"Oh," Dean said again. This time, however, it was obvious he had more words on the tip of his tongue. His face was pinched and it was obvious he was having some sort of internal conflict. Sam had a feeling that it was mostly about his strategy for winning the game.

" don't want me to fuck you anymore?" Dean asked.

"I never said that," Sam said. "Just that I've been thinking about trying other stuff. Why? That a problem?"

"No!" Dean said, just a bit too quickly. "I mean, um. I'm okay with that. I think."

Sam smiled to himself, an evil thought blooming in his brain. A part of him always knew that Dean would make a great bottom. A fantastic one. His desire to be wanted and his need to keep Sam close would make him so pliant and needy under his little brother's hands. Sam's fingers were curling just thinking about it.

"Okay," Sam said. "Good."

"Yeah," Dean said. He shifted again and turned his attention back to the movie.

Sam could see his pulse fluttering beneath the skin on his throat. A steady thumping in his brother's veins. Technically it wasn't against the rules to kiss the other person's neck. No lip to lip contact, no touching each other's junk beneath their clothes, and if one of them yielded then it was game over. Deciding to go for it, Sam leaned over and put his mouth on Dean's neck, right over his pulse point, reveling in the way his brother gasped at the sudden onslaught.

"Sammy," Dean breathed, barely audible, "W-What are you doing?"

"Not against the rules," Sam whispered back, running his nose over Dean's jawline.

"Since when?"

"Since always," Sam said. "Need a reminder?"

"Of what?"

Sam laughed against Dean's skin. "The rules, dumbass."

"Maybe," Dean said, falling into Sam's lips.

"No dick to skin contact," Sam began, sucking gently on the side of Dean's throat.

"No lip to lip kissing," Sam said, peppering gentle kisses all over the areas his mouth could reach.

"And most importantly...if you yield before the other reaches 15 points, you lose."

As soon as Sam had finished speaking, he licked a giant stripe up over Dean's neck and bit down harshly on the skin. Dean moaned loud and unabashed, arching his back and tilting his head towards the ceiling to give his brother more room.

"Just ask me, Dean." Sam said, tugging on his brother's earlobe with his teeth, "C'mon, I think it's been long enough."

"No," Dean said, stubborn as always. "That'll- fuck- defeat the whole purpose."

"And what purpose is that?" Sam asked, running a hand down his brother's torso.

"Gotta teach you a lesson," Dean said. "Make sure you learn some self control."

"Teach me a lesson, yeah? Why don't you just spank me, then?" Sam tugged at the hem of Dean's shirt and brought it down a little. He sucked another bruise onto his brother's collarbone and practically melted when he heard his brother's satisfied little groan.

"Thought you were the boss now," Dean said, trying to keep his cool. "Wouldn't you want it the other way around?"

Sam growled like an animal, low in his chest, gripping his brother my the throat and shoving him flat on the bed. Sam threw himself on top of Dean, getting his mouth right next to his ear.

"That what you want, De? Put you over my lap and beat your ass 'till it's red and sore?"

Dean's eyes were wide and glassy, the picture of innocence as he gazed up at his little brother in shock.

"I bet you'd like that," Sam continued. "You're such a glutton for punishment, I bet all that masochism is just screaming for an outlet. I'll give you whatever you want, if you ask me nicely."

"Not gonna happen." Dean's words said one thing, but his body said another. He was thrusting his hips against Sam's, desperate for some sort of relief. They were both hard as nails, panting against each other, shaking under the tension of this new dynamic. Sam has done a lot of crazy shit in his life, but he never felt more powerful than in this moment.

"I think it is," Sam said. "Maybe not today. Maybe not even tomorrow. But just like always, you'll be the one to break. You can't resist me, Dean. You've never been able to. I don't think that's gonna change now."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but there was a knock at the door at the same time. Sam slapped his hand over his brother's lips and gave him a wink. "Food's here. I'll use that mouth all I want later, but right now we're gonna use it to eat."

Hopping off the bed like he didn't almost just pound his brother through the mattress, Sam composed himself to answer the door. He gave his best smile to the delivery man and paid him a hefty tip. Dean sat silent. Point Sam.


Nearly three days had passed since John had left. Dean was busy with work and Sam was going a little bit stir crazy. He was bored by himself, but the excitement of his game with Dean kept life more interesting. Sam knew he had the whole thing sitting in the palm of his hand, but he was waiting a little bit longer before he really made Dean crack. John always preached about "teaching Sam a lesson" in respect for your father, hunting, etc. There wasn't much he could do about it in terms of his father, but Dean was another story. Obviously, Dean thought that he would be the one who was teaching the lessons. Sam reversed the script and had his older brother on the ropes.

Dean was jumpy every time Sam was in the same room. He followed his little brother's every move, working to play defense instead of offense. Sam hadn't been lying when he said Dean always gave in. They both knew it was true. The only hope Dean had was to get to 15 points before Sam did, but at the rate Sam was working, there'd be no hope. He kept it fairly subtle, gentle brushes of a hand on the inside of his older brothers thigh, a grip of the chin here, a "look at me when I speak to you" there. Dean was excellent at following orders. Always had been. There was a much different tone to the orders Sam expected Dean to follow, but he obeyed nonetheless.

Sometimes, Sam was bold. When Dean got out of the shower this morning, Sam dropped to his knees and licked the water droplets off Dean's stomach. Last night, he'd been standing next to the table while Dean ate dinner in the chair. Sam had grabbed Dean by the hair and yanked his head backwards, smirking when he said "I can't wait to fuck you."

Truth be told, this was as much torture for Sam as it was for Dean. Sam wasn't sure when John would be back, but it could be any day now. Given that Dean was so paranoid about John finding out about them, Sam decided that the sooner he got Dean to break, the better.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam called to his brother from the bathroom. "Come here for a second!"

"Yeah?" Dean said, poking his head in through the door. Dean's face fall a little bit when he realized Sam wasn't naked.

"Over here," Sam instructed, standing in front of the mirror. Dean shuffled over and stood next to Sam, looking at their reflection.

"What are we doing, Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam smiled and slinked behind his brother, slowly pulling up Dean's shirt to expose the golden skin beneath it. "I want you to see something."

"What?" Dean said, confused.

"Shh," Sam hushed, "Just look in the mirror."

"Okay," Dean obliged, still confused as to what was going on.

Sam removed Dean's shirt and started kissing along his shoulders. "I want you to see what you look like when you finally let me win."

"I'm not gonna-"

"Shh," Sam said again. "Yes you are. I just need to find your breaking point."

"Good luck," Dean breathed, obviously mesmerized by the way Sam's hands spanned over the length of his torso.

Sam smiled and spread his fingers a little wider, allowing his brother to see just how big he'd really gotten. He was tall enough now that his head was even with the top of Dean's. One day soon, Sam would become the big brother and their entire world would change. Roles were already reversing.

"I don't think I'll need it," Sam whispered against Dean's cheek. He dragged his nose along the stubble, reveling in the scratch of it against his own skin. There was a time where Sam would've been dying to feel that burn against his thighs, between his legs. The only thing he could think of right now was how quickly he'd be able to bring his brother to his knees.

"You're cute when you fail," Dean said. Sam was rubbing his fingers over Dean's lower belly, dipping just below the band of Dean's boxers.

"I haven't failed yet," Sam argued, "We're just getting started."

Sam pressed his hips forcefully against his brothers ass, allowing him to feel just how hard he was. Dean gasped and twitched forward, so Sam took advantage of his brother's surprise and placed his hand on Dean's upper back. Sam thrust against Dean one more time, then pushed down forcefully on the center of his spine. Dean let out a small cry, but bent forward, palms slapping against the dirty marble countertop. Sam stood up tall behind him, smirking, knowing full well Dean hadn't let his eyes leave the mirror for even a second.

"See how good we'd look like this?" Sam said. "This back was made for arching."

"Strange compliment, don't you think?" Dean panted, eyes locking with Sam's in the reflection.

"Just an observation," Sam said, leaning forward a bit more. "Pretty face, too. But you already knew that."

"Yeah, I'm a real fuckin' stud. No wonder you can't keep your hands off me," Dean said.

"Keep talkin' all you want," Sam said. "But when I get sick of it I'm gonna shut you up."

"Oh yeah?" Dean said, turning around to face Sam. "How do you plan to do that?"

"Excited to find out, are we?" Sam teases, raising an eyebrow.

"Curiosity, that's all," Dean said.

"Well, remember where that curiosity got you last time. All chained up, begging for me to let you come," Sam said. He moved a step closer, allowing their noses to touch. Their lips were nearly brushing, but Sam made sure to keep just enough space between them so that he didn't break the rules.

"I don't remember it like that," Dean said.

"Don't you?"

"Nope. Last I checked, you dressed up all nice in red lace for me. I might've had my hands cuffed, but I was still the one plowin' into you," Dean said.

"Like I said. My tastes have changed."

Sam wrapped his fingers around his brother's throat and gave a light squeeze, applying just enough pressure to let Dean know that he meant business. The temperature in the bathroom was rising, the heat from their bodies boiling with the heat from the summer sun, creating a sauna so thick with sexual tension Sam could practically taste it.

"I think you have a question to ask me," Sam said. He stared hard into his brother's eyes, allowing the fire in his veins to bubble through to the surface.

"Seems to have slipped my mind," Dean said.

"Allow me to remind you."

Sam moved like the hunter he was unwillingly trained to be, fisting a hand in Dean's hair and using his long legs to knock Dean behind the kneecaps. Dean fell to the floor with a thud, hissing at the sting from Sam's grip in his hair.

"You seem to forget how much of a hold I have on you," Sam said, bending down low to get right in his brother's face. "You walk around like you're dad's BFF but we both know which one of us has you wrapped around our finger. Think he'd be surprised? To see you like this? Because if I were him, I wouldn't be. You're mine. You've been mine. I don't think that'll ever change. Dad knows it, I know it, and I think you do too."

Dean scowled. "What's this about, Sam?"

"It's about me, isn't it? Isn't that why we're in this whole mess? 'Cause of what I did to almost get us caught?" Sam said.

"What's that got to do with where we're at right now?" Dean asked.

"Hey, you started it," Sam said. "You've been lettin' dad come between whatever we are. I don't like that very much and I don't give a damn what he does or doesn't know. Let him pull the trigger on me, I'm the one who fueled the fire. Way back when I was a kid. If I'm gone, you'll just follow right after me, but you've been acting like that isn't the truth."

Dean threw a punch straight to Sam's gut. Sam let go of Dean's hair and grabbed his stomach. Dean lunged before Sam had the chance to blink, tackling him to the ground. They started rolling around on the tile floor, elbows smacking against the bathtub, heads coming to close to cracking against the porcelain toilet.

"You're outta your goddamn mind, you know that?" Dean shouted with a fistful of Sam's shirt. Sam brought a leg up and kneed his brother in the ribs. Dean loosened his grip and Sam took the opportunity to throw his brother on his back and pin him down, hands closed tightly around freckled wrists.

"Am I?" Sam growled. "You think I don't know how you feel about me?"

"That's irrelevant," Dean hissed, bucking with all the strength in his body. He managed to break a hand free and clip Sam across the cheek. Sam knew he was pulling his punches, they both were, but the sudden shock of the impact turned him into something else entirely. Snarling like a beast, Sam managed to flip Dean onto his stomach, trapping one arm behind his back and pressing his face against the bathroom floor.

"Actually, it isn't. You'll follow me wherever I go. Isn't that right? You might be Dad's good solider but I'm your weak spot. People look at us and they can see you cut yourself open and bleed all over the place, just for me," Sam said.

Dean struggled for a few more moments but wasn't able to get himself loose. "Why does this matter?" he asked. "You're not going anywhere any time soon. You're just as chained to me as I am to you."

Sam suddenly felt the Stanford application sitting in his backpack burning his skin, even though it was in the other room. He shook his head and stuffed it away for later. There was still time before that became an issue.

"Fine," Sam said, dropping his head against the back of Dean's neck. "Sure. You've got your hooks in me real deep, Dean. Sun of my life, moon of my skies, that what you wanna hear?"

"Fuck off, Sam." Dean said. "You can spew all the bullshit sarcasm you want, but I'm not the only one who's fucked in the head."

"You're gonna get fucked in the ass, soon, if you keep getting on my last nerve," Sam said.

"Just do it," Dean said, without hesitation. "Frame this how you want, but you've practically been begging me for days now. You want it so bad? Fine. Fucking take it."

Sam released his grip on Dean and allowed his brother to roll on his back. Sam saw sweat beading on his brother's skin, and he felt his last bit of patience crumble to pieces.

"Fine," he said. "Just remember that you asked for it."

Sam leaned down and grabbed the side of Dean's face, crashing their mouths together in a chaotic, messy burst of emotion. Dean's fingers clawed against the thing fabric of Sam's shirt, so Sam yanked it off and threw it in the bathtub. He bit Dean's lip when he felt the sharp sting of fingernails against his shoulder blades, wishing for a brief moment that Dean would draw blood.

"You lost," Dean said suddenly, pulling away from the kiss. His mouth was red and his hair was an absolutely nightmare.

"No I didn't," Sam said, confused. "You gave up."

"I told you to come take it. I never said I gave up. I never broke any rules. You kissed me, you lose," Dean said. He had a smug look on his face and it twisted up Sam's insides more than he cared to admit.

"Okay, Dean," Sam relented, "You win. Happy?"

"Oh, I'm fucking thrilled," Dean said.

"Great. Now shut up."

Sam moved back in and started attacking his brother's lips again, hard bodies rolling together unceremoniously against the grimy motel floor. Dean was hard in his jeans, bucking up against Sam's massive erection like he'd die if he didn't get fucked in the next three seconds. Sam started fumbling with Dean's belt, eating up the noises his brother made every time Sam's fingers brushed against his dick. Once he was free, Sam could see the dark patch on the front of Dean's boxers and he smiled, face now just as flushed as Dean's.

"You already that excited for me?" Sam said, teasing.

"You're just as bad. Take those off, I'll prove it to ya," Dean said, nodding towards Sam's pants.

Sam thought about arguing, but decided against it, kneeling to pull his jeans down to the middle of his thighs. Dean's eyes locked on the tent in Sam's black briefs, a look of apprehension suddenly crossing his features, like he just now realized what was going to happen.

"Not so chatty, now, are you?" Sam said, running his tongue over his bottom lip and raising his eyebrows in his best "you're in for it now" look.

"I knew what I was getting myself into," Dean said, always proud.

"Great, then go get the lube," Sam demanded, sitting back on his heels, snaking a hand down his stomach and under the band of his underwear to start stroking himself slowly.

"Not yet," Dean said, "Stand up."

"Excuse me?"

"I said stand up."

Sam pushed himself gracefully to his feet, wondering what his brother was doing. Dean made his way to his knees and put a hand on Sam's stomach, then pushed him back against the wall. Sam's shoulder blades made a dull thud against the plaster and Dean was yanking down his briefs, Sam's cock springing free.

"If it's going in me, it better be as wet as possible," Dean said right before sinking his mouth down over Sam's length.

Sam tossed his head back and groaned out a broken fuck, fingers threading into Dean's spiky hair. Dean made it halfway down and used his hand to cover the rest, calloused fingers stroking blissfully against Sam's skin. Sam did his best not to thrust forward and choke his brother, but he was only human. He's pretty sure anyone on the planet with Dean Winchester between their thighs wouldn't know how to behave and Sam was no exception. On one particularly hard suck, Sam's control was gone and he was pushing deep into the soft silk of Dean's throat. Dean gagged a little, but he didn't pull off. He moved back to where he could comfortably hold Sam in his mouth and started twisting his wrist a little faster, using his other hand to keep Sam's hips in place

"Dean," Sam breathed, "Slow down. I'm gonna- shit- I'm gonna come."

That made Dean stop and look up at Sam thought damp lashes. That look alone had precome pulsing out of Sam's dick and his had to grip the base to ward off his orgasm.

"Already? You fourteen again, kid?" Dean said.

"You wish. Seriously, go get the lube," Sam ordered again, hoping Dean would listen this time.

Dean stood up and strutted out of the bathroom. "I'm not letting you screw me where we piss. I'm too classy for that. You'll have to come with me if you wanna stick it in," Dean said.

"Classy my ass," Sam retorted, following Dean anyways. "That what you call blowing your little brother?"

"Well, what do you call it?" Dean asked, rooting through his duffle bag for the little plastic tube.

"Fair enough," Sam said. Neither of them liked to use the 'incest' word very much. It didn't feel right. They were more than that.

Dean tossed the lube on the bed and laid down on top of the wrinkled bed sheets. He laid down on his stomach and put his head on his folded arms, eyeing Sam like a predator. It was an invitation and a warning, all at the same time. You're still mine, it said. Sam knew it. They all knew it, just like they all knew that Dean belonged to Sam.

"You sure about this?" Sam asked, crawling in next to Dean. "There's still time to back out."

"You think you can scare me off now?" Dean laughed. "If I wanted to back out, I would've left a long time ago, Sammy."

"Okay," Sam nodded. He ran a hand over Dean's back gently, a brief moment of tenderness before the frenzy took over. Sam scooted his way towards the end of the bed, grabbing the lube. He was still hard and dripping and the sight of his brother laying face down as up wasn't doing anything to stop it. It would be fast, Sam knew it, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to make Dean see starts before it was over.

"Tell me if it starts to hurt," Sam said, pulling Dean's boxers down. Dean gave a mhmph in agreement and readjusted himself to find a more comfortable position.

Sam placed a few kisses at the base of Dean's spine and bit harshly on his tailbone. Dean moaned and Sam rubbed his thumb against the angry red teeth marks when he was done. Sam slicked up one of his fingers and gently started pushing it inside Dean's hole, a million tiny muscles clenching in confusion at the intrusion. Dean wasn't used to this the same way that Sam was. Sure, Dean had gotten a few of his own fingers up there before, but Sam knew it was different when someone else did it. After a few minutes of gentle pushing and pulling, Dean's body started to relax and Sam lubed up another one of his fingers, sliding it in next to the first. The second one went easier, Dean's hole adjusting far more quickly than it had for the first one. Sam still took his time, though, poking around until he found Dean's prostate. Dean gasped when Sam hit it, back arching up, body moving back into the pleasure. Sam made a small, pleased noise when Dean started pushing himself more and more into Sam's fingers, slowly watching his older brother unravel at the seams.

"I'm gonna add a third one," Sam said, when he was confident Dean was ready for it.

"Okay," Dean said, voice already strained. "Do it."

When Sam got all three of his fingers in, Dean started shaking. He was braced on his elbows now, amulet dangling down and brushing against the pillows, while his hands clenched in eager fists. Sam pulled out all the tricks, curling his finger tips, fucking into Dean slowly and then speeding up, before suddenly slowing down again. By the time Dean was completely stretched and ready for Sam's cock, he was already sweating and mewling, a string of sounds breaking past his lips, despite his best efforts at keeping silent.

"Let them out," Sam said deeply, watching his voice send a shiver up his brother's spine. "I wanna hear you."

Sam lined himself up after that, giving Dean a moment to process what was happening. He didn't flinch or pull away from the contact, so Sam started pushing in slowly, giving his brother time to adjust to the new sensation.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean said. "That thing get bigger the last few months?"

"Just feels bigger when it's going in the other end," Sam said, eyes never leaving the sight of Dean's body opening up for him.

It took less time than Sam thought it would before he was all the way in. When his hipbones finally made contact with his brother's ass, Dean collapsed with a breathy "Fuck!" and gave himself over to the feeling completely.

Sam dragged Dean into a better position, allowing him to lay flat on his chest, but grabbing his hips to raise them up to a better angle. Sam knew this position could be quite intense, especially for someone who was new to bottoming, and he intended to shatter Dean's entire perception of reality by the time this was over.

"I'm gonna move a little now," Sam said, slowly thrusting his cock. Dean made some sort of noise, but gave Sam a thumbs up, just to confirm that he was giving him the green light.

Feeling Dean surround him was indescribable. Sam couldn't believe he went this long without switching up the roles, and he was using every ounce of restraint he had not to start plowing his brother's ass as hard as he possibly could. He wanted Dean to enjoy the experience so that Sam could relive this feeling over and over and over again until they were old and crippled, or dead somewhere in a ditch. Sam knew that this moment right here was the closest he was ever going to get to Heaven and he intended to ravish every part of Dean's body until his very last breath.

"Faster," Dean said after a few minutes. "I'm- shit! I'm ready, just go."

Sam wasn't going to deny himself any longer. He snapped his hips forward and heard the bed creak below them. Dean moaned so loud, Sam was sure the people in the next room would hear them, asking themselves what lucky bastard was getting his shit rocked like it was his last night on Earth. Sam's rhythm was merciless, probably a little too harsh for Dean's first time taking it instead of receiving it, but if anyone was a masochistic son of a bitch, it was Dean.

"You're screwed now, Dean," Sam said, breathlessly in between brutal thrusts. "Every time you move for the next fuckin' week, all you're gonna be able to think about is me. Thought I owned your ass before, but now you're really mine."

Dean sobbed out a broken cry, pushing himself back into Sam's cock. Sam knew that he wanted to be claimed, wanted to be desired, wanted to be someone's entire world. Territorial and more possessive than any eighteen year old kid should be, Sam intended to let Dean know that he already belonged to his little brother.

"Sammy," Dean whined. "You gotta touch me. C'mon, man, please you need to touch me."

Sam placed his hand on Dean's back and gave him a light tap. He never stopped moving his hips for even a second.

"I am touchin' you. See?"

"You son of a bitch," Dean hissed. "You know what I meant, you know what I need. Just do it Sam, fucking do it, I need it!"

Sam was cruel, but he wasn't immune to the sound of Dean's cries. He pulled out for a second to flip his brother onto his back, repositioning them so that he could wrap a hand around Dean's cock. In a single motion, Sam pushed himself back inside Dean's body right to the hilt, wrapping his hand around his brother's dick at the same time.

It was starting to get harder to keep his steady pace, but Sam did what he could to match his strokes with his thrusts. They were both so close to the edge already, that it wouldn't take much before before they both were seeing white.

"Almost there, I'm almost there Sammy," Dean babbled. His eyes were closed, and his arms were lying limp above his head, offering himself to his little brother completely, even without physical restraints. That thought alone was enough to bring Sam closer to the brink of release, and he stated stroking his brother in earnest.

A few seconds later, Dean was falling apart, moaning and shaking and making a mess of himself and the bed. Sam let go shortly after, unable to hold back any longer after witnessing the way Dean's face scrunches up in utter bliss when he's coming with Sam's cock in his ass.

Sam fell on top of Dean and the two laid there in a sweaty heap, trying to catch their breath, and enjoying the high.

"You were right," Dean said eventually.

"About what?" Sam was ready to doze off, feeling as if his world was complete for the first time in his young life.

"When people look at us, they can see what I'm willing to do for you. How I'd kill anyone or anything, just to find my way back to you. I need you by my side, cause if you're not here, then I might as well be gone too."

Sam felt the Stanford letter in his backpack laying eyes on him through the cheap fabric again. He was tempted to set it all on fire so that it's obnoxious presence wouldn't alert Dean of any trouble.

"I need you too," he said instead. He wasn't sure if Dean heard him or not. His brother's breathing had evened out and slowed down, and his chest wasn't moving as rapidly beneath Sam's cheek anymore.

They laid there for hours without moving a muscle, and Sam stared blankly at the wall as his brother slept on, peacefully unaware of the news Sam had been trying to tell him all summer. Eventually, the sun dipped behind the clouds and Sam crawled off the bed to hit the showers.