Disclaimer: I think I hurt something laughing so hard, seriously.
Genre: Slash (Wincest). Angst, PWP, ep-related (4x14, Sex and Violence)
Notes: Written as a gift for someone on LJ. This is my first published bit of wincest. Also, the story itself turned out a lot different than I had originally intended. It was supposed to be stubborn!Dean with angst as a side dish (and I don't even know if I managed to keep the stubborn Dean), that turned into this angsty, character study style piece of porn which apparently is a later installment of something larger. Go figure, eh? Well, enjoy! It's been beta read, but I kept tweeking, so the remaining mistakes are my own.

The hunt they'd been on had gone bad.

They weren't hurt any worse than they usually got. And they still managed to salt and burn the son of a bitch that had been driving new mothers to kill their newborn babies soon as they got them home.

It was everything else that had gone bad.

They used to be practically in sync with one another. And this time out the gate, Dean hadn't known where Sam was more than half the time. Couldn't have said with any kind of certainty that his brother was even in the same room as him half the time and Sam had been standing right the fuck next to him.

It left a bitter taste in Dean's mouth. Because the one thing he'd always been able to count on was Sam. Sam being there, having his back, ready to follow his lead or get them the hell out of Dodge if need be. They'd been raised to trust no one else, to rely on only each other. And Dean felt as though he'd lost a limb or his eyes on this hunt.

They'd finished the hunt, but everything else was going to hell.


Dean, fuck, we gotta talk about this. Those things I said –

Just fucking drop it already, would you? I don't wanna hear what new excuse you come up with for what happened. I already know we were under the Siren's spell. Don't need to hear it again.


Dean had Sam backed against the door as soon as it closed behind them. His mouth slanted across his brother's, lips and teeth and tongues clashing against one another. Bodies pressed tight to keep Sam from drawing away, changing the subject.

For a moment, Dean thought it had worked. Sam's large hands had worked their way under his t-shirt, fingers pressed to heated flesh. Dean pressed closer, hips rolling, hands gripped tightly to Sam's ass, pulling him in.

And suddenly, their positions were reversed, Dean's back pressed against the door. Sam's hands putting space between them, holding them apart. "Dean, we have to talk about this."

"The hell we do," Dean growled, trying to pull Sam back in.

Sam tensed, kept them apart. "Seriously, Dean. We can't keep doing this. We have--"

The words got choked off when Dean palmed Sam's dick through his jeans. "What we have to do is get naked enough to fuck. Need to find the lube, because I'm going to fuck myself stupid riding your cock, Sam. That's what we gotta do."

Dean watched Sam's eyes close, heard his soft whimper, felt him thrust into Dean's hand. Sam had never been able to resist Dean when he starts talking while they were getting hot and heavy. It drove Sam nuts when Dean would keep the running dialog up while they fucked. Dean just had to remember to keep talking, keep Sam distracted enough not to stop. Because Sam could and would stop a half stroke from orgasm just to be a dick.

Moving forward, Dean closed his fingers around the hard line of his brother's cock. Sam took a half step back with him, keeping the contact between them while moving towards one of the beds. "I'm gonna get myself all slicked up and I'm gonna ride you, Sam."

Sam shivered and pulled Dean's shirt up, forcing Dean to stop and get the material over his head. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the door, tugging on the laces of his boots when Dean got his shirt off. "Know what?" he asked, without waiting for Sam to look at him before continuing with his thought. "Think I'm going to fuck myself on you `til I come without you even touching me."

A full body tremor worked through Sam, and Dean's breath caught in his throat when Sam turned heated eyes up to him. "Jesus Christ, Dean," Sam moaned, kicking off his boots and reaching out for Dean.

Dean kept just out of Sam's reach, popping his button fly. If he was actually going to do this, Sam couldn't start touching him now. Dean had to get himself in the right mind set to be able to pull it off. And he could, he had done it before – more than once. And just the thought of it had his dick aching, his heart jumping into over drive.

But this was going to be different. This wasn't going to be Sam breaking him down with a slow fuck like the first time because Dean had crushed up a couple of Viagra's into his drink (Sam had decided if he was going to be stuck with a hard on that wouldn't go away, then Dean wasn't going to get a hand with him own erection). Or like the second time, after Sammy had come back from college where he'd gotten his fucking dick pierced, that small bit of metal rubbing and pressing against his prostate drove Dean fucking crazy. And Dean hadn't let Sam touch him, had never wanted that experience to end (like finally coming home again). Not even like the third when Sam had gone out and picked up that damn vibrator, stretched Dean out and slid that vibrator into him, pressed up tight and unrelenting against his prostate until Dean was thrashing on the bed, body shaking (he'd blacked out when he came that time, the feeling so fucking intense).

This was going to be Dean fucking himself into oblivion and damn the consequences that followed.

They were naked in record time, stretched out across the bed, with lube and condoms close at hand. Sam was sprawled out on his back under Dean, large hands smoothing up Dean's thighs and hips, rubbing his ass and back. Dean was straddling Sam's waist, letting him touch his fill while Dean tried to crawl inside his brother from the mouth down.

Reaching over, Dean's fingers closed around the lube before he pulled back from the kiss. He poured a generous amount on Sam's stomach, letting the slick warm up against Sam's body before coating two fingers.

"Do you know how long it's been, Sam?" Dean asked when he rose up slightly, hand reaching between his spread legs, fingers questing behind his balls, pressing a slicked finger past the resisting ring of muscles. "Fuck," he breathed, and Sam's hand's tightened around Dean's hips. "Been wanting this since I came back."

Sam's hands ran down the outside of his thighs and back up the front, thumbs rubbing along the edges of his groin. "Jesus Christ, Dean," Sam pleaded, hips rising from the bed to rub his thick cock against the curve of Dean's ass.

Dean hissed softly when he pushed a second finger in with the first. "Been thinking about this, Sam. About all the times we coulda done this. All the times I wanted you to do this."

Dean wasn't sure when he'd closed his eyes, or when one of Sam's hands had left his side. But they opened again when the missing hand came back with slicked fingers, reaching behind Dean. There was a slightly questioning look in Sam's eyes. Fingers rubbing gently against Dean's stretched ass.

Dean leaned forward, thighs spreading a little wider, opening him a little more. He pushed back slightly, encouragingly, against Sam's hand. Dean couldn't hold back the gasp when one of Sam's fingers worked its way in next to his own. The stretch and slight burn were exactly what Dean was looking for.

"Fuck, Sam," Dean panted, dropping forward to rest his head on Sam's shoulder. "Been back almost six months, and you haven't touched me once." That made Sam freeze under him. Body tensing, holding, against the accusation that was clear in Dean's rough voice. "Six months, Sam, and you haven't once come near me."

"Dean," Sam whispered, face turning into the curve of Dean's throat. "Dean, I'm--"

"No," Dean hissed, pulling away to sit back up.

Sam's eyes were wide and dark, a mix of lust and guilt on his face. "No," Dean repeated. "Six months back. Forty years gone in the pit." Sam winced, started to pull away. Dean didn't let him, rocked back onto Sam's finger, curling his own and drawing a soft whine from his throat.

Sam froze under him again, but for a different reason this time. "Forty years, Sam, and they couldn't take this from me there." Dean looked down into his brother's wide eyes and asked, "What about you? You gonna take this from me?"

Sam's other hand reached up and pulled Dean down into a harsh kiss. The lube slicked up their bellies where they were pressed tight, slicking up their skin. "No, Dean," Sam breathed against his mouth. "I'm not going to take this away. Fuck, I wasn't sure you'd want me touching you anymore."

Dean cried out when Sam pressed a second finger in along with Dean's two. Curling them, rubbing firmly against his prostate.

Dean reared back, rocking into Sam's hand, fucking himself on their fingers. It had been so long since his body had been stretched like this, used like this. It was a feeling he missed, being filled and stretched and used.

"Always want this, Sam," Dean told him. And it was the truth, as fucked up as it was. Sam was his everything, had been since their Dad had sold the house and packed them up in the back of the car never looking back.

Dean pulled his fingers out, grabbed Sam's wrist when he tried to do the same. "Not yet. Gonna get you ready first."

Sam nodded against the pillow under his head, and Dean reached for a condom. Tearing the little foil package open and rolling the slippery latex sheath over the piercing on his brother's cock, Dean had to remind himself that tonight wasn't really about his brother. This was about Dean, what Dean wanted. It was selfish and greedy, and Dean couldn't really bring himself to care at the moment as he ran a lube slicked hand over Sam's dick.

Even after four fingers stretching his ass, the slide down Sam's cock was still a snug fit. Sam's piercing hit in all the right ways, slight resistance on first penetration and then right up over his prostate as Dean seated himself on Sam's cock.

When Sam's hands reached for him again, Dean grabbed them and pinned them to the bed, leaning over his brother's body to keep them there. "Don't touch, Sammy," Dean breathed into Sam's ear. "Told you I was gonna fuck myself stupid on your cock and come just like that."

Sam shuddered under him, thrust up into him. Dean groaned softly when Sam's cock moved in him, the nub of the piercing rubbing over his prostate. "Fuck, if I can't touch, can I at least help fuck you?" Sam asked, planting his feet in the mattress and thrusting again.

"Yeah," Dean breathed, pushing back when Sam thrust again. "Yeah, you can help fuck me. Just don't touch."

Dean sat back when Sam nodded his consent and drove himself down hard on Sam's cock, feeling his body stretch in all the best ways. It didn't take them long before they had a rhythm working. Sam was gripping at the headboard, feet planted on the bed behind Dean. Sam was thrusting up into him each time Dean sank back down on his brother's cock.

Dean whined high in his throat when he leaned back just slightly, changing the angle so that Sam's piercing rubbed against his prostate with every shift of their bodies. "Yes, just like that, Sammy," Dean told him, voice already thin with need.

Flashing bursts of white light exploded behind his closed eye lids. His muscles tensing and releasing around Sam's cock. Dean reached back and braced himself on Sam's thighs, giving himself something to hold on to while he fucked himself harder on his brother's dick. "Can't believe you thought I didn't want this," Dean grit out.

Sam moaned under him, thrusting up and in that much harder. It took Dean another second to find his voice, the pleasure moving up another notch when Sam started to lose it underneath him. "Always want this, Sam," Dean breathed, head tilted back. "All the time. Can do anything you want to me, Sam, ain't gonna tell you no."

His brother's soft whimper was enough to send shivers down Dean's spine. Made him clench around his brother's cock, body fucking down harder. Sam was always so quiet during sex. Didn't matter what Dean did to him or how, Sam hardly ever made noise. So each little sound Dean could drag from his brother was like a reward, like that fucking vibrator pressed against his prostate.

"Tell me," Dean pleaded. "Tell me what you'd do to me."

Christ, he needed Sam to talk, to say something, anything. Because Dean was close, so fucking close he could almost taste it. The way his balls were drawn up snug against his body, his dick fucking throbbing for any kind of contact, his nerves and blood singing with heat and close, so close. But it wasn't enough.

Sam's puffed out breath would have been the best Dean could have hoped for before, before he went to hell and back, before the secrets and the lies. Before the siren and it's fucking venom. And it would have been enough then, believing that Sam had tried. But it wasn't enough now. Now Dean needed to hear him say it, say all of it. He needed to believe, for just one second, that Sam wanted him, needed him, even just a fraction of the way Dean needed Sam.

"Please, Sam," Dean begged, opening his eyes and looking down at his brother. Sam's face was flushed, sweat beading on his forehead. His arms were tense, muscles straining from clinging to the headboard. "Wanna hear it. Wanna know what you'd do if you could do anything."

Sam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Dean cried out as he sank down hard, grinding his ass on Sam's hips, feeling Sam's dick just rub inside him. "Common, Sam. So close now, just wanna hear it."

Sam's eyes rolled back and he thrust up against Dean's resisting weight, the ball of Sam's piercing riding over his prostate as Dean practically convulsed above him. "Everything," Sam finally breathed.

Dean opened his eyes, forced them to stay open so he could watch his brother's face. This wasn't something he got from Sam while they were having sex. Before and after, but never during. "Tie you to a bed," Sam panted, pushing up into Dean's body. "Put a cock ring on you and shove that vibrator up your ass on the highest setting and just leave you there, like that. Fucking needy and desperate and not able to come."

And that was it, what Dean was looking for. He closed his eyes, threw his head back and fucked himself back on Sam's cock, his dick jerking as he came, thick and hot over Sam's stomach and chest, a cry tearing up his throat. Ass clenching tight around Sam's dick, burning the sensation of it buried so deep inside him as Sam's own orgasm over took him with a soft huff of breath.

His body went limp and collapsed forward onto Sam's chest, dragging air into raw lungs. Dean couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to. Sam's arms closed around him, drawing him in. Dean closed his eyes and let himself sink into the heat and warmth. Let the afterglow wash over him.

Because he'd never felt so satisfied and sated.

Or so alone.


Look, Dean, I'm –

Don't, Sam. Just…don't.


It was later (hours, minutes, days? Dean wasn't sure), when Dean finally woke back up.

He was still sprawled out on top of Sam's chest, his brother's hands smoothing over his back and hair. Soothing motions to keep Dean pliant and asleep a little longer. But Sam noticed Dean was awake, probably from the way Dean's muscles stiffened in Sam's hold.

Hell, that might have been the tip off that told Sam something wasn't right. Dean didn't know, didn't care either.

"Dean," Sam whispered softly into his hair, chin tilted. "Dean, about what I said…"

Dean closed his eyes again, didn't move away, but he didn't let Sam continue either. "No take backs, Sam," he responded. "You can't unsay something you already said. You told me that."

Sam sighed, his arms closing more tightly around him. And it was an effort for Dean to keep from drawing away. Not because he didn't want this, didn't want to be held by his brother where he could listen to his still beating heart. But because he did want it, and after everything, he really shouldn't anymore.

"I didn't…" Sam tired again, holding on a little tighter still. "Look… Dean… You believe me, right? That I didn't actually mean what I said?"

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean finally answered, and meant it. Really fucking meant it. He felt relief wash through Sam, the way he squeezed Dean briefly before relaxing his hold enough to let Dean push himself up. Because Dean meant what he said, didn't mean he believed his brother. "You meant every word you said," he continued, staring down into his brother's eyes before pushing himself up and off the bed.

Because he didn't want to see the shattered look on Sam's face when he added, "`Else you'd never have said those things to me."