Sam moved moved his hand down to the small of Deans back, making it arch. Deans lips parted letting out a throaty moan as Sam unbuttoned his brother's pants, sliding them of. Sam moved back up and traced his tongue along Deans lower lip. "Sam, I lov--"
Sam's eyes shot open before Dean could finish his sentance. Sam realized that he was alone in the ratty motel room, he got up and changed into some clothes. Just as he was about to walk out of the door to look for Dean, his brother fell into his arms. Blood stained Sam's hands as he held his brother. "Dean, what happened?" Dean just layed there and took comfort in the fact that his brother was holding him, without the "no"'s and "it's wrong"'s. He just wanted to love his brother and not be punished for it. "Dean, It'll be alright. C'mon, lets get you inside."
"Sammy, I was just stabbed in the arm, I'm fine."
"Dean, your not fine. take off your shirt, lets get you cleaned up." Dean obliged, pulling his shirt over his head and making his way over to Sam. "Sammy, I'm sorry that I just left you like that--"
"Dean. Stop, okay. I'm not ready to talk about it, and I'm not ready to do anything--anything like that again."
"Dean. just get into the shower."
"Only if you join me . . ." Dean walked past his brother, and into the washroom, with a tempting smile on his face.
"Okay, I get it, but I'm hurt. Make me feel better, just forget the rules for a while."
"No! Dean. I. Said. No." Each word was slightly separated to make it sound more serious, but Dean still laughed as he pulled off the rest of his clothes and turned the tap in the shower. He stepped inside, shuddering at the cold water hitting his skin for the first few seconds, soon the water started to heat up and he sighed. "Sammy, your missing out, the waters really nice." He taunted as he waited for a response. Nothing. "Whatever," He whispered, more to himself then to Sam, as he continued showering. He grabbed the bar of soap and rubbed it over his body, lathering it, and sliding his hands over his chest. He imagined that Sam's hands were feeling his body, not his own. He felt guilty at the thought, but he's thought worse. He allowed himself to get lost in his sick fantasies as he continued his shower.
* * *
Dean stepped out of the shower, letting the steam fill the room. He rapped a towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom and over to the duffle bag that had his few belongings in it, he pulled out a shirt and some boxers. He pulled the shirt over his damp body, Followed by the boxers, and walked over to the bed, he collapsed next to Sam with a sigh of relief. "Sam?"
"Ye--" Sam was interupted by agressive lips against his own. "Dea--" Dean wouldn't let him say no, not this time. Sam let out a quiet moan. "Fuck it," he said as he pushed Dean down on his back. His lips pressed against his brothers, his tongue dancing around Dean's, fighting for dominance, and winning. As Dean gave in to his brothers kiss, Sam flipped around so that Dean was on top. A smirk spead across Dean's face as his brother tried to pull of his shirt. Dean helped and pulled the grey t-shirt over his head. Their lips met again, being broken up by a "what the hell are you boys doing?"
They both looked up to see Bobby standing in the doorway, his jaw dropped when he noticed that Dean was wearing only his black boxers. He stood up, seperating himself from Sam. "Bobby? What the fuck are you doing here?" Dean asked, sounding angrier than he intended. "Dean, what the hell did you do to your brother?" Bobby asked, the anger in his voice was almost tangable. "Whoa! Bobby he didn't do anything to me."
"Then please, tell me what I just saw, and I hope it's not what I think you were doing."
"We were just kissing!"
"Just kissing? Sam you are brothers. Why would you be kissing your brother? What the fuck?"
"Well. . ." Sam paused, trying to come up with something to say.
"Oh, no, please continue." Bobby said sarcastically. Then Dean cut in. "Bobby, why are you here?"
"I was coming over to check on you guys and your door was slightly ajar, I heard something crash so I came in."
"well, I just nocked the lamp off the night stand when Sam--" he thought it best to stop there. Why would he explain how Sam had played with his body, pulling him around and touching him? Kissing him and making him moan. Why would Bobby need to know that? Why would he want to know that? "Dean, Sam. This little thing you've got going here, it's sick and it's wrong. It needs to stop. Now."
Bobby walked out of the room muttering something under his breath. How would they get over this, Bobby knows. He knows everything. Dean pulled his pants on and walked out of the room to catch up to Bobby, leaving Sam alone. Again.