1944 Dean in the suit was just yummy. Thank you all who have followed and favored other stories of mine recently. Good news is my arm is beginning to heal and it looks like I'll be able to get back into my stories! I'm excited, don't know if anyone else is! It feels good to be able to move more and feel something other than pain :) Enjoy

Dean was still in his suit. The tailoring was exceptional, enhancing his brother's form. Hugging in just the right spots on his lover's body to make Sam's mouth water. If it wasn't for the bruising handprints around Dean's neck Sam would have had his lips on his all over him. But for now Sam held back...and damn it it was hard!

Dean knew the feral look in his brother's eyes. This look was different then the honey-eyed look Sam gave him when they were making love. This look screamed "devour" and the raw heat he saw made him harden and shiver at the same time.

"Let me get the suit off first Sammy," he said quickly.

He was keeping the suit. He loved the suit. Yeah, so Dean Demon-killing-kick-it-in-the-ass Winchester was a clothes whore. He dared anyone to call him out on it.

Sam had managed to get himself somewhat under control. His dick was about to burst out of his jeans but he knew how Dean felt about the suit - so ripping it off in an attempt to devour everything his brother offered was out of the question.

But it was more then just his brother looking damn fine in an expensive suit. Dean had almost been lost to him - forever. Almost murdered in another time far from him. It was only that thought that sobered the lust inside him. He had to be with Dean tonight, there was no question to it. Sam had to hold his big brother tight to keep the nightmares away tonight, and forever.

Dean was beginning to undo the tie when his brother's big hands took over. Looking up into Sam's face all he saw was love and devotion. He allowed Sam to touch the suit, to begin to remove it piece by piece exposing him in the dim light of their latest home.

For Sam it was a ritual, undressing his brother. As the suit slowly revealed Dean underneath Sam noted all the scars, all the bruises that this beautiful body before him had endured. It wasn't fair. His handsome brother should be free from blemish, but at the same time those blemishes, most attended to by Sam's own hand had cemented their relationship as lovers. Sam always loved Dean and Dean always loved Sam and they were all that they had left in the world...Sam was NEVER going to let Dean go.

So the suit came off piece by piece. Sam folded each piece neatly and placed them on a clean spot on the folding table. Dean stood still letting his little brother take control.

Truthfully Dean was tired. Tired and achy from being abused by the God of Time. If he was honest he was just tired of it all. His throat felt like it was swollen and the bruises would be more painful tomorrow but right now, with his brother's large, calloused hands gently running over his naked flesh he didn't worry about it. If only for a few moments the quietness held them, then it was ok.

Nothing more happened that night. Dean put on his sleep pants after Sam had removed his suit and crawled onto the bedroll with his brother. Sam simply held onto him for dear life throughout the rest of the night and he basked in being needed, being loved so completely.

In the light of day Dean carefully put away the 1944 suit. He would use it again someday, maybe request to be burned on the pyre with it on. Provided anyone was left to light the wood, or to even remember a hunter's simple request.