Sam/Dean…an established relationship.


Season 5, vague spoilers for what's happening.

"Sammy? How many times do I have to tell you, it's not healthy to walk around with wet hair?"

He did not even bother to reply, just glancing over at Dean who was sat, or rather, sprawled on the wooden chair by the table, beer in hand.

Dean in turn said nothing more, just continued watching his brother. Studying his brother. He made his appraisal obvious, starting at the aforementioned hair, then over the face, beautiful to him, but now marred with that expression of tired exasperation. The water trailing slowly from the hair onto those so broad shoulders had Dean taking a deep draft from his bottle as his mouth went dry.

He wanted to quench his thirst on that glistening skin.

He could already feel his hands running over those shoulders, then on down the so strong arms, pressing hard fingers into biceps, triceps. Then he would contrast that with his fingertips stroking that, so sensitive, inside fold of elbow, before running down further to grab hold of Sam's wrists, almost delicate in comparison to the size of those hands. Then he envisioned forcing Sam's arms behind his back.

He would order Sam to keep them there, folded behind him as he explored the chest and torso and maybe, putting his lips around a nipple, he would bite it, just a little too hard. Yeah, right. As if Sam did anything he said these days.

Dean's tongue came out to lick around the neck of the bottle, his eyes fixed on Sam's.

His patience wearing thin, Sam turned to move away feeling cold, wishing that he had bothered to dry his hair but damned if he was going to let Dean know.

"Hey! Don't spoil the view!" Dean demanded mock angrily. He had not finished ogling that body. He could never get his fill, hating it when Sam wore layer after layer hiding it from him. He doubted he ever would have enough.

About to tell him to 'take a picture'; Sam refrained remembering the last time he had blurted out that trite sentence. Dean would do it, he knew, he would see it as a challenge. That last time, the first Sam knew of the candid shot of himself, wearing nothing more than a sated smile, was seeing it as a 'wallpaper' on Ash's laptop. If that had not been embarrassing enough, he knew Ash's phone had been only one of six that had received the image.

Then again, maybe Dean had learnt his lesson, because Sam had refused to allow him anywhere near the displayed naked ass for near a month. Well, just over a week, but it had felt like a month. But that was a long time ago. He smiled sadly thinking of yet another one 'lost,' as he termed them all. All those that had fallen in the fight.

Damn! His kid brother had gotten that damned expression on his face, so sad, and it sent a shiver down Dean's spine. He had seen that expression before, in the future.

Time to make a point. "Sammy. Dry your hair. I don't want it dripping all over, Me." and he lifted an eyebrow, the side of his mouth and the beer bottle as Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

"Fine." giving in to the inevitable, managing, somehow, to keep the smile off his face as he moved back to the bathroom.

"Where you goin', Sammy?" sing song as if he'd just caught him doing something illicit.

"To get a towel, obviously!" staring back over his shoulder.

"You've got one." pointing with the bottle.

Sam sighed letting his shoulders lift and drop in exaggeration. Turning square on to his brother, he dropped his head and, very slowly, put hands to the towel wrapped low on his hips. Loosening it, he let it drop, held up by one hand making sure the white fabric kept his prick covered, then he rubbed at the offending wet hair. Smirking beneath the towel he was not surprised in the least as Dean's hands tentatively touched his hips.

"Dry enough." Dean had little patience at the best of times and now quickly pulled the wet towel from Sam's unresisting hands throwing it to the floor. He stepped back to stare at the naked figure before him. That lopsided grin appeared on his lips again as his avid attention began to get a 'rise' from Sam.

His gaze returned to his brother's eyes seeing them darken as they gave back his regard unabashed. He laughed lightly letting the nail of one finger, his index finger, run up Sam's prick from just behind the head, all the way up to be buried in the wiry short hairs. He smiled in appreciation at Sam's grooming, idly wondering at the motivation. Was it because knew Dean liked him trimmed, or the fear of his brother 'plucking' them again if they grew too long? He was still unsure as to whether the black eye Sam had given him had been an accident, due to his startled reaction to having a fair few pubes plucked, or not.

Damn it! Sam hated when Dean teased him like this. That nail had been so tantalising and so, damn, slow, that Sam was half hard by the end of just one pass. By the time Dean had run all four fingertips, barely touching, back down to the head, Sam was hard and swaying forwards where he stood.

A laugh and Dean had hands on his hips tightly, turning him, pushing him towards his bed. The bedspread was ripped off and Sam found himself face down, body lying full out slanted corner to corner. He felt the bed dip as Dean knelt behind him, between his legs and he looked back over his shoulder in time to see Dean undoing the button on his jeans. Catching his appraisal, looking straight into his eyes, Dean managed to make pulling down the zip, loud and so fucking erotic.

Looking down at Sam, Dean reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small bottle of lube and gave Sam a cocky challenging glare. 'Bastard had been sat waiting for him', Sam realised wondering if that was better or worse than the mere sight of his naked torso driving his brother 'wild'.

He rose up twisting at the waist and all it took was a fingertip pressing between his shoulder blades to force him to lie back down on bent arms, hands either side of his head. Facing to the side Sam waited, his breath tense.

Licking his lips, Dean let that finger ghost down Sam's spine watching the shiver he caused. He let it continue in a straight line running into the divide of that, so firm ass, on down, glancing over the arsehole earning a gasp. He shifted slightly moving his knees apart forcing Sam, without trying, to open out his legs.

Dropping the lube to the side after covering his eager prick with it, Dean let his fingers run up and down over the muscled buttocks. Every part of Sam was firm. He had sculpted his body these last couple of years and Dean enjoyed it but also, he missed the tall, lean, eager young body that used to push up against him in bed, so ardent, so demanding. This, under his hands now, was a man, all hard muscle.

Fuck it. Who was he kidding? He loved this body, whatever shape it was in. Would love it if it turned flabby. Because he loved Sam no matter what. He'd give him hell about it though.

He pulled his nails down over that plump skin eliciting a hiss from Sam. He slapped his right buttock from the side. "I know you love it." He did it again causing red stripes to appear following the path of his nails.


Another slap but no answer, just a shifting as Sam felt his buttocks pulled apart, fingers digging deep into his flesh. Dean moved to lay on him, a forearm leaning across his back as a thumb held just to the left side of his hole, pulling it taut. Sam bit his bottom lip holding his breath and he felt the blunt tip of his brother's prick nudge his waiting entrance.

He could not help but move his hips but it would be debateable whether in denial or impatience. He squirmed rising up at the pressure then pulled away at the sudden expansion of the ring of muscle to his arsehole as the head of his brother's prick broached him. It was always a surprise, that initial breach, no matter how many times this had happened before. A fantastic surprise, if a little painful at the moment. He groaned out in complaint, and tried again to pull away.

Dean smiled that knowing kind of smile as he held his brother down. "Stop pretending to fight me. We both know this is what you want. How you like it. Slow. Tight. Deep. Just a little at a time. A …slow … deep … slide. One… long … push."

Grimacing, Dean leant both his forearms on Sam's upper back pinning him down, his fists clenched as he desperately stopped himself from just forcing his way inside, to sink into that so tight glorious heat. He was glad that Sam, whose face was pushed into the pillow as he panted desperately, would never see his current expression.

Finally seated to his balls, he took a juddering breath then pushed up onto straight arms and let his hands spread on those shoulders causing Sam to grunt and try to rise up hoping to dislodge him. Dean just laughed and, with most of his weight bearing down on the larger frame, used one foot at a time to kick Sam's ankles further apart. He grinned secretly to himself as Sam opened his legs wider still, allowing Dean that little bit more ingress.

Shifting his weight onto his legs and Sam's butt, he dragged his splayed fingers outwards over the tense shoulders and down onto his brother's bent arms, the skin still shower warmed and soft, all the way to his hands as he sank down lying completely on top of him.

His check on the centre of Sam's upper back, he marvelled once more at just how big his brother had become.

After finally ceasing to gain height, now Sam seamed to be spreading out, but in that so purely muscled way. He knew Sam worked at it, worked out when he was not around and it worried him. Not that he was unappreciative of the effect, but he had an awful notion that Sam, knowing what they had to fight, what he himself had to fight, thought he needed an extreme physique to help win. He worried that Sam was training so hard that it would cripple him, emotionally if not physically, because Dean knew, brute force was not going to win this fight, not for either of them.

His fingers caressed Sam's wrists until the hands slowly released from fisting in the bottom sheet and the arse constricting Dean slowly relaxed, still pulsing at the intrusion.

Smoothing his hands over the back of Sam's, he intertwined his fingers through his brother's and, oh so slowly, began to pull back almost leaving the cocoon, then a steady full slide back in.

Sam let out a satisfied "arrhh" and Dean knew it was now safe to begin his steady, thorough consumption of all that made his brother half way sane. Incoherent noises escaped from parted lips as Dean repeatedly filled him with more than just his prick. He didn't 'fuck' him, as that would have had Sam begging. It was not truly a 'love making' because Dean knew that Sam 'loved' to be kissed, adored it, when Dean was between his thighs wrapped in his constricting, encircling legs and kissing him like he needed it to breathe.

No this, this was the confirmation, the claiming sex. The one that made Sam weak and defenceless as Dean took control from him whilst somehow proving just how much he meant to him. It was a mutual confirmation. As Dean claimed his brother, his brother gave himself up.

Dean, having lost Sam too many times already, was determined never to lose him again, to keep him close, to protect him. Even if the one he had to protect him from the most was Sam himself. He had to make sure Sam knew his body belonged to Dean and no one else.

Just like his belonged to Sam.

Sam would never tell Dean, but he relished this claiming sex, the type that made him give himself up willingly. He had given himself to Jessica and, in a way, to Ruby also, but now Dean claimed him and he gave himself, body and soul. Dean gave Sam his love, his devotion and his strength and now Sam truly belonged to him. Sam's body belonged to his brother. He would never give it up to anyone else ever again.

Or any, thing.

But now all he was thinking of was how that prick felt on another smooth slid into him. Dean had sped up and Sam pushed back against him meeting each thrust, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he pushed against his brother's body savouring the confinement, the weight on him, pinning him down. His forehead pushed into the mattress as Dean's chin dug into the nape of his neck, his brother's breath ruffling his hair.



"Remember that talk we had about foreplay?"


"You didn't even take your boots off!"






Sam turned his head to look at his brother, sprawled next to him. "Bastard!" he swore but then smiled lovingly as he caught sight of his hand, relaxed on the bed between them. He saw Dean's fingers, still grasping his own even as the man slept.

Sam felt good; he felt sated, wanted and owned and, he felt strong. He loved Dean but the man was so easy. All it had taken was to nonchalantly walk behind him, as he sat there in front of the computer, and run his splayed fingers from the nape of Dean's neck up into his hair before he walked into the bathroom to shower.

He shifted on the bed, feeling the damp patch under his stomach where he had cum gasping out his brother's name and he was cold with his arse 'bared to the world'. Gently disengaging his hand from Dean's, he slowly managed to get up from his prone position. He stood looking down at the slumbering form and smirked. Using the already soiled sheet he cleaned his belly and stomach then, after a trip to the bathroom, said "Nite, Dean," and left him there, flat on his back, as he moved to the other bed.

Getting under the clean covers, Sam smiled to himself as he stretched out then snuggled down and was soon asleep too.

Dean was dreaming. He was cold in his dream. Well, not all of him. It was a strange dream. For some reason, in dreamland, he was getting friendly with a snow cone. His eyes opened as the dream and reality mixed for a moment. His prick was freezing. He lifted his head and looked down his body. Well that explained that then! He was on his back, fully clothed, with his flies open and his prick exposed to the cold air.

Sitting up he ran hands over his face, through his hair and smiled as the reason why came back to him. Letting his hands drop to the bed he looked around for Sam. No longer next to him, he could hear the deep breaths of slumber coming from the other bed. And he had the audacity to complain when Dean wouldn't 'cuddle' after sex. Sam had not even stayed in the same bed!

He shifted and his hand touched a decidedly cold, drying damp patch and he grimaced. Getting up he finally started to undress then headed to the bathroom to clean up.

Stood looking down at Sam, who only had his head visible above the covers, Dean grinned. Lifting the sheets from around Sam, he slid in behind him. Lying down, he ran his hand over his brother's side onto his stomach pulling him back against himself.

Sam shocked awake grabbing at the hand moving down his belly. "Fuck! Dean! You're fuckin' freezing!"

"But you're a furnace. Warm me up Sammy." rubbing his nose behind Sam's ear.

"Arrccch! Keep those fuckin' feet off me! No. Stop it! That's not funny. Stop it! Deean!"

But Dean just laughed and continued to place his cold hands on all of Sam's, 'wake up spots' as he insisted on calling his brother's erogenous zones. Then he had him where he wanted him, on his back, spread beneath him and laughing.

He soon put a stop to that as he kissed his younger brother, hard, all consuming, as if it was what he needed to breathe, to stay alive. And it was.