Dean shut off the shower and reached for the towel hanging on the rack just outside the door. It was just after sunrise and Sam was still sleeping. The past week had been the best week of his life. Knowing he finally had the right and the option of touching Sam and loving him, well, it was like having a ten ton weight lifted off his chest. Like he could draw a deep breath for the first time in years.
He looked down at Sam, sprawled across the bed, sheet just barely covering him, a mass of arms and legs that seemed to go on forever and cover every available space. The urge to climb back into that bed and feel those limbs wrap around him, welcome him, was strong, but he had plans for today, and if he didn't go before Sam woke up he would have a hard time getting out alone.
Sam stretched himself awake, and realized that the bed was bereft of his brother's warmth. He didn't like waking up with Dean missing from the bed. It hadn't taken long for him to become dependent on that feeling, after all, he had waited a lifetime for it.
Rubbing his eyes with his palms and then through his hair, he stood and headed out to find Dean, intending to drag him back to bed. Maybe sleep a little more, definitely love him a lot more.
No Dean in the house, he walked out back and scanned the area, assuming he would find his brother laid out on the dock, sunning himself like a lazy cat. That was an image he had enjoyed several times in the last few days. It was a joy to see Dean relaxed and just soaking up the sun. No Dean outside either. Maybe he had gone for a run. Wherever he was, Sam felt a flicker of anger go through him knowing Dean had left without letting Sam know. Not ok.
Although he had no idea how early Dean had gotten up, he had been gone for what seemed like forever since he himself had woken up. He started to worry, and damnit Sam missed him. What a girl. Dean would tease him unmercifully if he knew he was feeling like this. Unable to help himself, he dialed Dean's number, and went from anger to uncertainty and fear when his call went unanswered.
They answered their phones. It was a given.
Sam stared at the phone as if it would give him an answer for what felt like an hour, which turned out to be all of three minutes before he dialed again and waited for Dean's whiskey honey voice to answer. Voicemail. Fuck.
He was pacing, hair practically standing on end from the multiple times he had run long fingers through it in the last twenty minutes when his phone rang, startling him more than it should.
Sam's voice sounded panicked and Dean's protective instincts kicked in immediately, "Sam, whats wrong?"
"What's wrong? What's fucking wrong is that I woke up and you were gone, and then you don't answer your fucking phone, Dean? What are you doing that you can't answer your fucking phone?" Sam knew he sounded out of control, but was unable to get it in check.
"Sorry, man. I…uh, I didn't hear it. And I left you a note. Didn't you get it? It was on the pillow."
Sam registered the hesitation on the other end of the line and was no longer as reassured by hearing Dean's voice as he should have been. But he stomped into the bedroom, flinging blankets and pillows in every direction before noticing a small piece of paper on the floor next to Dean's side of the bed.
"Got it, but I didn't see it before. It was on the floor." Sam's voice sounded a little shaky, and Dean registered that fact.
"I will be back in just a little while. You ok?"
Sam felt deflated, "Yeah, I'm fine." He hung up before he said anything more. He couldn't think and talk to Dean at the same time. He dropped to the bed and reread the simple noting the lack of intimacy in the words.
Be back in a bit. Just gone into town for supplies and to change the oil in my baby.
Silly Sam. He has always called that stupid car his baby. How can that possibly create a little twinge in you, after all? Fuck that, something else was up, and it was causing a churning in the pit of his stomach. He knew what the feeling was, but didn't want to think it. Dean had always had a huge sexual appetite and Sam wasn't stupid enough to pretend he didn't worry that Dean would miss sex with other people, but he wasn't ready to deal with that. It wasn't going to be ok if it happened, and with Dean not answering his phone, and that hitch in his voice when Sam questioned him, he feared that the time for dealing with that had come way sooner than even he expected.
Dean came in the door to a freshly showered and glowering Sam. He wasn't sure what was up, but was immediately on the defensive. "What is that look for, man?"
"Where were you really, Dean? That you couldn't answer your phone…twice." Sam looked edible, fuckable as he stood there wearing nothing but jeans, skin damp and tanned all to hell, glaring at Dean, but with an undercurrent of what looked like…fear? pain? in his eyes. Dean wasn't able to get a lock on it before Sam looked away.
"What are you implying Sam?" Dean demanded, not liking the implication.
"I don't think it is that difficult a question, Dean. No implication necessary. What were you doing that you couldn't answer your phone?"
Dean hesitated just a second too long. "I was changing the oil. You know…nothing. Shit Sam, what do you think I was doing."
Sam wasn't able to verbalize the fears running through his head. He didn't think he was really ready to hear any bullshit reassurances, true or not. He needed to just think, and hell, honestly he was glad Dean was back. Having him here, within reach was necessary. He was probably being stupid. He hoped he was being stupid.
Dean watched Sam's stiff back, not sure he liked the implications Sam was spewing. But, he knew if he spoke now he would say things he regretted. He didn't do well backed into a corner, and he wasn't used to answering to someone for his every waking moment either.
"Whatever." Sam turned and walked toward the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation.
Dean watched that loping grace of his brother's movements as he retreated, eyes lingering on all that soft skin over taut muscle, ass moving in those loose, low riding jeans. He felt a streak of lust make his cock twitch in his own jeans, but knew now would probably not be the time. Damn, he wanted to fuck the faithlessness right out of Sam's brain, right now, maybe right on the kitchen table.
Following Sam into the kitchen, Dean's eyes continued to linger. He dropped the two bags of groceries on the table and started putting things away, watching Sam make coffee. When he had finished storing the food, Dean sprawled into a chair, and caught his breath as Sam reached up to get something from the top shelf of a cabinet, his stomach tight and his jeans falling just a little lower.
Sam was wearing his underwear. Fuck. How was that hot enough to make him instantly, pantingly hard? He wanted to run his tongue along the waistband of those underwear, dipping inside, biting softly until Sam was as ready for him as he already was for Sam. But the vibe rolling off Sam right now was not saying 'fuck me' so much as 'fuck you', so Dean cursed quietly and drug himself out of the room.
Sam stood in the kitchen, watching through the window at Dean moving around outside. He walked down to the dock, and Sam sighed, wanting to go to him, to claim him and feel the response he knew he would find, no matter what. His lack of faith in Dean hurt all the way around, and he just hoped it was misplaced.
Hearing Sam approach, Dean waited, unsure what was coming. When long arms circled him from behind, wrapping around his hips, and bringing them to rest in the cradle of his brother's, he felt relief wash through him. Sam's mouth was close to his ear, voice raw. "Mine."
Dean's head dropped back onto Sam's shoulder, a shiver coursing through him. "Yeah. You know that, Sammy, you know it." And Dean knew what Sam had been thinking. It made him angry, but hell, maybe Sam just needed time to see that Dean was really in this. He wasn't going anywhere, and he sure as heaven, hell and everything in between wasn't going to let anyone take his Sammy away from him. Someday he would make Sam realize that as long as Sam would let him, he would make him the center of his world.
Turning into the embrace, Dean's mouth covered Sam's hungrily. They devoured each other, unable to get enough. Both conveying messages that they couldn't put into words yet.
Dean's hands framed Sam's face, his tongue seeking every detail of that beautiful mouth he couldn't stop thinking about. His fingers stroked Sam's jaw before tangling in his hair, pulling and sifting.
A whimper, neither sure who it had escaped from, sounded between them and they were sinking to their knees, hands frantically removing clothing as they went. Sam sat down, sliding his jeans off his hips, and Dean's hand came out to still him when he reached for the waistband of the boxer briefs. His eyes lingered on his own underwear encasing Sam's huge hard cock, saliva pooling in his mouth as he groaned softly. "Fuck. I love that you are wearing my underwear Sam. It's…damn, it's so sexy, so hot."
Dean leaned down, open mouth settling over the bulge there, licking and tasting the salty sweet pre come already gathering. He inhaled deeply, cock jerking when he realized he could smell Sam there, in his underwear, but he could also smell himself, and it hit him. Sam had taken a shower and then put on the underwear Dean had worn the day before. He got impossibly harder.
"Fuck, Sam." He gasped out, mouth open now on Sam's lower belly, licking and nipping before sucking a bruise along that gorgeous hipbone, hands making quick work of the underwear.
Sam's hands were fisted in Dean's hair, hips arching into his brother's hot mouth. "Yes, please."
Looking down, Sam watched as Dean pulled his shirt off, mouth never leaving Sam's lower belly more than a second at a time. Then his gaze caught on a bandage, wrapped around Dean's right wrist. "Dean?" He reached for his big brother's hand, and pulled it to his mouth. "You hurt? Did something happen?" He kissed the skin above the bandage, seeing blood that had pooled through the white gauze.
He whimpered slightly, worry for his beloved seeping out. He licked the skin around the bandage, inside Dean's arm. He loved this part of Dean, and often found himself latched on, laving the skin and feeling the strong steady heartbeat just under the flesh there, he didn't want to think something had hurt him, especially in such a vulnerable area.
Dean glanced up, looking at Sam through those thick eyelashes, "Just cut myself changing the oil. Nothin major. 'M fine." Dean shifted slightly and sunk his mouth completely over Sam's hard heavy cock, taking him as deep in that first stroke as he could, his moan sending a vibration shooting through Sam when he bottomed out into his brothers grasping throat.
"Come here." Sam pulled Dean forward, up his body, needing to feel all of him. "Wanna be inside you, Dean. Wanna feel you surrounding me, your tight heat working me. Wanna fuck you til you can't think of anything but me."
Dean bucked hard against Sam, those words creating an unbearable need inside him. "Never can, baby boy. Never can think of anything but you. Damn you are killing me, making me into a girl. But it's true, nothing compares to this, to you. Don't want anyone else. And you," he pulled Sam's face close to his, "you don't get anyone else no matter what you think."
Struggling to sit up, and pulling Dean with him, Sam rubbed his face against Dean's neck. "Don't want anyone else, Dean, never really have."
As Sam pulled Dean to straddle his thighs, Dean latched onto the spot on Sam's throat where he could see the pulse hammering through his veins, that tender skin between shoulder and neck, and sucked the bruise already there into full bloom. Sam arched into that sucking, hot mouth, loving that Dean always wanted him to wear that mark as much as he loved the feel of it being made.
Reaching up, Sam brought two of his fingers to his mouth, sucking them and catching Dean's attention. Dean moaned softly, watching Sam's sweet mouth close over his own digits and knowing how the inside of that mouth felt. Dean pulled those fingers out of Sam's mouth and put them into his own, running his tongue all over them, never losing the eye contact with his baby brother that showed him how badly he wanted him.
Sam shuddered and pulled his wet fingers out, swiping one across the head of Dean's straining cock and gathering the moisture there before reaching to find Dean's tight hole and pressing inside slowly. Dean whimpered at the sudden intrusion, back arching, bringing his cock between their hard muscled bellies. Sam's hard length strained upward, stroking along Dean's ass, seeking entrance.
Dean reached behind him, taking Sam's hot dick in his hand and squeezing, guiding it to his entrance as Sam removed his fingers. Clenching his teeth, Dean pressed Sam into him, loving the burn and the feeling of fullness, the pressure of Sam filling him.
"God, Dean. So good. So tight and hot, you feel so good around me." Arms full of Dean, Sam felt like there wasn't an inch of him that wasn't filled with Dean's presence, and still he wanted to be closer, wanted to draw Dean's skin around him, wanted to climb inside.
Pressing up into Dean, Sam pulled Dean's legs around his waist, so they were sitting chest to chest, Dean on his lap, Sam buried deep inside his beloved brother. "Love you, Dean."
"Love you, Sammy. So fucking much." And he moved, raising and lowering himself, a hiss escaping from his lips as the angle created incredible friction against that spot deep inside him.
They made love slow and deep, kisses sensual and wet.
When they sank down to lay on the pier, boneless and exhausted, Sam dropped his head to Dean's hipbone, relishing the feel of Dean's fingers sifting through his hair. "Sorry, Dean. I do trust you. Trust you with my heart. You have always taken care of me, I don't know why I would think you would hurt me now. Guess I just feel so open now that everything I've hidden so long is out there. And it's hard, because I know you have always…you know…been with so many women…I…"
Dean looked into Sam's eyes, his own earnest and dark, "There hasn't been anyone for a long time, Sam. I wanted you to think that, but I haven't slept with anyone in almost a year. I tried a couple of times, but it was just…wrong. I couldn't…"
"Me either, Dean. I guess you kinda knew that about me though, huh?" Sam grinned, looking out through too long bangs. He was so full of happiness, knowing Dean wanted him, had been wanting him for so long.
"I'm glad, Sam. Real glad." Dean ran a finger along Sam's lip, wet from his kisses.
"Won't do anything to hurt you, Sam. I'm raw and broken open too, you know. You just need to remember that if I could have had this, with you, I wouldn't have needed all the rest of…that…them."
Sam sighed, his cock twitching at the words that told him what he really meant, how much he was wanted by this gorgeous perfect man he had always adored. He trailed his fingers down the inside of Dean's thighs, coming over him and his tongue coming out to lick at the streaks of come on his lower abdomen. "I love the way you taste, Dean. Mmmm…"
Dean moaned and raised his head to watch Sam licking at his come, spread across his belly, unable to believe he was already getting hard again. "So damn sexy, Sam. That's…shit."
Sam smiled up at him, eyes flashing through those disheveled bangs, causing Dean's heart to hitch in his chest. Growling deep, Dean dragged Sam up his body, tasting his essence on his baby's lips and tongue as he dove inside to kiss Sam, feeling himself hardening further.
"Let me check this." Sam's fingers traced softly over the bandage at Dean's inner wrist. He could tell it had been changed recently, but Sam wanted to take care of it for Dean. Dean smiled, eyes lit with happiness, and he settled back onto the bed, arm extended.
Sam carefully peeled the edges of the bandage back, and frowned at what he saw. Dean wasn't hurt. It looked like…he had gotten a tattoo there. It almost looked like a barcode, tall close set letters. Sam's brow puckered as he looked closer, and tears began to flow as he saw what was written there, permanently etched into his adored brother's soft skin. SW XI/II/MCMLXXXIII It was his own initials, and in roman numerals, the date Dean had carried him from the house fire when he had been just six months old. The date Dean marked in his mind and heart as the day Sam had become his.
Dean watched Sam's face intently, saw the moment recognition spread across those beloved features and he felt tears prick his own eyes as they flowed down Sam's face, running along his sharp jawline to drop on Dean's bare belly.
"Dean?" Sam sobbed quietly, unable to believe, register what this meant. Dean had branded his own skin, in that place Sam had often marked him as his own. Dean had put a permanent mark announcing to the world who he loved. "God, Dean…I…" He was unable to continue, throwing himself over Dean's lap and crushing his mouth in a kiss, tongue delving inside to claim the flavor of his brother.
Dean lost himself in the kiss and then smiled when Sam drew back, skirting his fingers along his baby brother's cheek, smoothing away the tears, "You like it, Sammy? I wanted you to know that I'm yours. Totally and completely. I'm in this forever, baby boy. And I want everyone to know it, see it."
Sam's fingers hadn't stopped brushing that mark, and he huffed out a harsh breath. "Jesus, Dean. I love you. I love you so much. You have no idea what this means to me. Mine." His dimples were so deep, Dean wanted to lick them, stick his tongue in them. It was worth it just to see those dimples, hell, that was worth everything.
When it occurred to Sam that this was what Dean had left to do the other day, why he hadn't answered his phone he felt guilt sear him. "Oh. Dean, this is why…that day…I'm so sorry. I…"
Dean cut him off, a finger brushing along his lower lip, "Its ok, Sammy. It's ok."
They spent the rest of the day making love, devouring each other. Sam couldn't seem to give enough, as if he were thanking Dean with his body, heart and soul for the gesture Dean so willingly gave.
The last few days of their reprieve melted away in a haze of love and lust and need and sharing, until the morning came and they knew it was time to go. "Sam? You know it has to end. But this is just our beginning, or even our continuation. Hell, it's just us, against the world, baby. Now we have this…"
Sam ran his fingers down Dean's bare, tanned torso, grinning happily. "Yeah, you and me, Dean. I hate for this vacation to end, but you are right. It's a beginning and I'm excited, happy."
Packing up, they both cast lingering looks around the house as they prepared to leave. So many memories, all the places they had made love, explored and discovered each other. This was an idyll that they would both cherish for the rest of their lives.
The waitress, the same stupid damn waitress they had had the first time, came to the table, eyeing Dean with an inviting smile. Sam tensed slightly, and Dean was tuned in enough to Sam's every feeling that he saw it, not that he had any intention of forgetting the last time or any desire to hurt Sam even if he wanted to flirt with this unimportant girl. "What can I get you?" she purred.
Dean's eyes never left Sam's face as he slid his right arm across the table to reach for his brother, palm up, his long sleeved flannel shirt riding up just enough to expose the tattoo inside his wrist. Sam's eyes flicked up to meet Dean's as his fingers unconsciously came up to trace that soft skin, and a smile as beautiful as the dawn flooded his face.
The waitress drew in a quick gasp as she saw Sam's smile. And she stared, thinking maybe she had originally wanted the wrong one, not that it mattered, because she saw the look. That look. It clearly said that they belonged to each other, not in a 'boyfriend, we're dating' sort of way, but in a 'you are the only thing that matters in my life' sort of way. She felt a flutter of sweetness deep in her belly as she watched them, lost in their own world.
"Do you you know what you want, baby?" Dean said, his voice strummed over Sam's ears like a caress.
After they ordered and the waitress had left them, Dean watched Sam's fingers as they continued to caress his wrist. That touch, just there, never failed to set a flame inside Dean's gut. He couldn't name all the things it did to him, but he knew he felt warm and cherished and always with a strong streak of deep want for Sam when he felt that and watched Sam's fingers ghosting over that mark. He couldn't seem to stop touching it and Dean hoped he never would.
"Thanks, Dean." Sam whispered, his eyes meeting the gorgeous green eyes across the table, eyes that never failed to move him as they allowed a look into a soul so much more pure and beautiful than Dean would ever comprehend.
A crease formed between Dean's brows, "For what, Sammy?"
One side of his mouth quirked up in that Sammy way, "The waitress. Thanks for not flirting, for showing her, telling her that you belong to me."
"Hell, Sam. That's not something to thank me for. I only wish I could take back all the times I flirted, when all I wanted was you. When flirting was my escape, my cover. Looking at all of them kept me from looking at what I wanted and couldn't have. I always wanted you, baby boy. I just drowned all that as best I could by pretending."
Dean's eyes lingered on Sam's lips, those lips that held so many of his favorite things. The kisses that melted his heart, the voice that went through him like a hot knife through butter, the smiles that he knew would light up his life no matter how dark the night, the tongue that knew all the ways he wanted to be caressed. He loved that particular smile, his Sammy smile, just a little shy and uncertain, and yet so damn sexy in ways Sam never really got about himself.
"I love you so much, Dean. I wish I could come close to explaining it to you."
"Ah, Sam. If its half as much as I love you…" Dean blushed a little and Sam felt the tug of love deep inside himself, causing his heart to stutter a few beats. "Hell, you know…I just love you. More than I know how to say, I'm no good with words."
"Oh, you do ok, big brother. You say so much more than you realize."
They ate, knees brushing in silent communication under the diner table, sidelong glances conveying all that needed to be said, then parted to take care of things before they headed out on the road.
Spending the day in the car was both routine and yet unique. They listened to the same crappy tapes Sam complained about all the time and Dean loved, but they touched. It seemed that someone's fingers were always straying across the car, Sam's lingering on Dean's wrist or stubbled jawline, Dean's resting on Sam's thigh, or sifting through silky hair.
Dean wondered several times about Sam's hesitancy with him in regards to touching his neck, that spot Dean loved. Sam had pulled away the last two days as they made love whenever Dean's mouth wanted to linger there in that groove between throat and shoulder, and Dean was a little hurt, and more than a little confused.
Today he had brushed his fingers across that small expanse of skin and Sam had jerked away as if burned. Was Sam refusing Dean because he didn't want to be seen with Dean's mark on him in public? Maybe he felt strange and had avoided that so that now, when they were again on the road and not secluded he wouldn't bear that brand that said he belonged to Dean. That thought burned a little in Dean's stomach and he tried to steer his thoughts clear of it, silently resolving to make mention of it when they stopped for the night. After all, Sam wanted to talk. They were supposed to talk these things out, right?
Sam knew his mouth must be hanging open when they walked into the dingy motel office and Dean answered clearly and concisely, "One king." To the oft asked question. But his surprise was quickly replaced with a huge grin and a deep burn in his gut when Dean reached subtly for his hand as the manager checked them in and handed over the keys.
"I have a surprise for you, Dean." Sam announced quietly after they were settled into the room, sprawled across the one bed, second beers in hand.
Dean turned his head to look at Sam, interest piqued, "Mmm?"
Sam ducked his head, suddenly a little embarrassed, "I mean, well, I didn't buy you anything or whatever. Just something….you know…hell…."
Dean smiled and set his now empty bottle on the bedside table, and threw his leg over Sam, coming over him and looking down into that sweet face, at once so innocent and sensual, the face of everything Dean had ever wanted. "What is it, Sammy?" He brushed the back of his knuckles across the slight blush that had formed high on his baby brother's cheekbones.
Reaching up, Sam pulled his faded t shirt over his head and cocked his head to the side, exposing the left side of his neck to Dean's gaze. Dean's world tilted on its axis as he saw the tattoo on Sam's neck, one to match his own newly acquired one. DW XI/II/MCMLXXXIII His eyes squeezed shut for a long moment as he struggled to get his emotions into some semblance of control.
Sam looked slightly unsure. "Do you like it, Dean? Is…is it ok?" He continued, his words coming out in a rush, "I had it done this morning, so I need to cover it back up, but I wanted to show it to you, I couldn't wait. I…it's the reason I didn't want you to suck me there. I knew I couldn't get the tattoo if the skin was bruised." And that had been hard. Sam loved the feel of Dean pulling that skin deep into his mouth, of knowing Dean wanted to mark him in a primitive way, to tell the world Sam was his mate.
"Sammy." Dean's voice broke and he paused and drew a deep breath. "It's fucking perfect. Just like you, Sam, just perfect. Thank you baby boy." He leaned in, hot breath wafting over the highly sensitized skin. He licked around it, just avoiding the newly inked skin by millimeters before his voice rasped out in Sam's ear, "Mine. All mine, baby."
Then they were kissing. Soul wrenching kisses, Dean's hands framing his beloved's face, Sam's fingers twisting and clutching in Dean's short hair. They explored each other's mouths, sucking in the taste of each other, claiming and possessing, mouths slanting and reaching, striving for more. Teeth biting at lips suddenly raw and sensitive, tongues exploring and licking.
Sam looked over at Dean, who was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, right hand skimming absent mindedly over the bandage on Sam's neck as he sang quietly with the radio. He remembered the night before when Dean had pulled away, leaving Sam frustrated and trying to pull him back. Dean had gotten up and found the first aid kit in his duffel and had carefully applied ointment and this fresh gauze to Sam's neck, his eyes resting reverently on the brand before cautiously covering it up. Reaching up, he took Dean's fingers into his own, brushing over the tattoo on his wrist before bringing both their hands to rest on Dean's hard thigh. Dean glanced at him, eyes shining as a smile stole across his face in the fading light.
They hadn't discussed it yet, but Dean was ready and he knew Sam would be willing. He wanted to stop hunting, or at least try. Try to settle down somewhere and be 'normal', give Sam a home and a life he could live without worry. Soon. He was going to suggest it and watch his Sammy light up as he let the stress and constant fear of this life they had led for too long slip away.
But for now, for this moment, they traveled the road together, both now bearing the marks on their skin as well as their hearts and souls of who they truly belonged to.