Warnings: Wincest, angst, schmoop

Disclaimer: I'm closing in on the boys, but I haven't found them yet. Damn you, Kripke.

Author Note #1: This is my first fic and I just want to thank all of the talented and hardworking writers here who have truly been an inspiration to me.

Author's Note #2: This was written for the beautiful Paperstorm who requested I jump on the fan fiction bandwagon and came up with idea that lotion porn was the way to go. Thank you for your constant support and encouragement, advice, help with posting, your mad beta skills, and all of the late night conversations that apparently the CW is listening to. Mostly, I thank you for inspiring me to write. You're truly amazing and I love you.

Author's Note #3: This was also written for the lovely and unbelievably talented, not to mention incredibly patient 9Tiptoes who has also been a constant source of encouragement and support. Without her, I never would've written this. Thank you for the conspiracy sessions, the constant texts and emails, advice, suggestions, and for understanding my utter obsession with the Winchesters. Lastly, thank you for joining me on the slashy side. Words can't describe how excited I am to read your first sex scene. *smirk* I love you dearly.

Betaed by the aforementioned Paperstorm and 9Tiptoes

Sam comes out of the bathroom followed by a billowing cloud of steam. Dean looks up at him quickly, then back down at the computer, then back up at Sam again. That little tease has the thinnest towel known to man just wrapped around his hips and tucked into a knot at the side. His skin, extending from thigh to hip, is exposed and his chiseled chest is glistening with the water from his shower. But Dean isn't looking at that. Not at all. Especially not after the silent treatment and seven variations of bitch faces that Dean had been treated to by Sam on the way home tonight. Sam is probably mad because Dean had not only put a silver bullet into the supernatural piece of crap that they were looking for, but had killed him before they could get any information as to where all his little monster buddies were hiding out. So they had driven home in silence, neither one of them terribly hurt besides a few cuts and bruises; the majority of which are around Sam's neck. Dean was more than thrilled he'd ganked that son of a bitch, especially since it had thought it was a good idea to throttle his little brother. Sam, however, didn't share in Dean's enthusiasm for some reason. A reason Dean apparently isn't going to be let in on since Sam refused to talk to him.

When they got back to their room, Sam stalked straight for the shower. Dean didn't bother fighting him for it - the kid had nearly been choked to death. Again. Dean figured he just needed some space to cool off. While Sam was in the shower, Dean checked the locks, laid the salt lines, grabbed a beer and made himself as comfortable as possible in a crappy chair at the crappy table in their crappy hotel room in yet another craphole town. Dean thought maybe he could find a lead or two before bed and then Sam might take mercy on him and not treat him like some whore at an abstinence convention. But then Sam came out of the bathroom looking like that and Dean is suddenly taken aback by how unbelievably lucky he is.

To be honest, it's a pretty foreign concept to Dean. But in this case? Yeah, he's damn lucky. Lucky that he has his brother back after the last year of lies, betrayal, and pain that they've both endured since Dean got back from Hell. Even with Michael and Lucifer circling them like vultures, Dean can't look at Sam and not be grateful to be with his little brother again. Grateful that they're working things out after the whole Ruby disaster, not to mention the demon blood. Yeah, that had hurt, but Dean would take hurt over separation from his Sammy any day. At least they're trying to stay on the same page now; backing each other up, refusing to let Heaven or Hell come between them. And maybe, just maybe, enjoying each other sometimes amidst the monumental clusterfuck that is their life.

When it comes down to it, Sam's always been the only thing in his life that has ever really mattered to Dean, consistently anyway. And yeah, he's frustratingly bitchy, nerdy as all hell, a huge know-it-all, not to mention a gigantic woman, but his pain-in-the-ass little brother is also the love of his life. And as long as Dean seems to have misplaced his man-card for the moment, he has to admit that Sam is his rock, his whole reason for living. Always has been. He's strong, fearless, and quite possibly the best human being Dean has ever met.

Plus, and this is a big plus, Sam is friggin' beautiful. All long, lean, hard muscle covered with soft golden skin that Dean, although he'll never admit to it, loves more than anything. That skin, that body, that stupid floppy hair, those dimples and those bright, liquid hazel eyes that defy description. And Sam doesn't even realize how gorgeous he is, which makes him about a thousand times sexier. Dean rolls his eyes at his own train of thought and silently berates himself for what a sappy girl he's becoming. It's just that Sam makes Dean feel like a puddle of Jello and even though it's not something he'd ever say out loud, he loves the warm feeling he gets whenever Sam looks at him.

Except right now. Right now Dean can't really focus on all of Sam's beauty. Not while Sam has the queen of all bitch faces plastered on and is sending it in Dean's direction like a friggin' death ray.

"What, Dean?"

"What, what, Sammy? Didn't say a damn word."

"Didn't have to. I saw that look," Sam mumbles under his breath, just loud enough that Dean can hear the underlying snarkiness in his tone.

"Jesus, Samantha. You should've told me you needed something for your PMS while we were at the drug store. Now I gotta suffer through this with you?" Had Dean really been thinking about Sam's bravery, strength, and beauty just a few seconds ago?

"Hilarious Dean. Just do us both a favor and don't talk to me tonight. I don't want us to say something we can't take back tomorrow."

Dean narrows his eyes and chews that over for about a second. "Fine."

"Fine," Sam snaps back instantly, just like a petulant child.

Dean rolls his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to focus on the website he's scanning. Sam sits down on the bed facing away from Dean and digs for what seems like a while in that bag and he keeps getting louder; his movements becoming increasingly more animated in frustration as he obviously isn't finding what he's looking for.

Dean lets out an exasperated sigh and gets up from his chair. He starts to walk over to Sam. "What's wrong? You need-"

"You know what Dean? Go screw yourself!"

Dean instantly holds his hands up in front of his chest, palms out, as if trying to stop something from crashing into him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell crawled up your ass and died?"

Sam, not even looking up at Dean, just shakes his head and keeps digging through his bag almost frantically while Dean just watches him; completely confused at the sudden turn of Sam's irritation to full-on anger.

"You mind letting me in on what's going on in that Cro-Magnon skull of yours?"

"Just forget it, Dean."

"Sam, obviously you're pissed off about somthin'. I can't have you this angry while we're trying to work a job here."

Sam's head snaps up and he looks at Dean like he's the most clueless person in the world. "That's just it, Dean. We. We're working a job. Together. You and me."

"Yeah, I got that."

"But when we're out there it's not you and me." Sam shakes his head; his frustration giving way to disappointment, maybe even a little sadness.

"What are you talkin' about?"

Sam looks back down at his bag but stops digging through it. "Dean, I can't keep having this same conversation with you, man."

"Well maybe we wouldn't have to if I knew what the hell conversation we were having!"

Sam just sighs, shakes his head and starts rifling through his bag again.

"Sam, I don't get why you're so pissed off at me. I saved your ass tonight!"

Sam turns toward Dean, fully facing him. "Yeah, exactly Dean. And it was a stupid, macho, self-sacrificing move and I'm sick of it!"

"Sammy, that bastard was about thirty seconds from strangling the life out of you. What the hell was I supposed to do? Huh? What exactly would you have me do?"

"You're not getting me!" Sam yells back in frustration, apparently giving up trying to find what he was looking for and throwing the bag down on the floor.

"So explain it to me! 'Cause I'm at a total loss here, Sam!"

"You can't just keep throwing yourself at random monsters thinkin' you're doin' it all for me!"

"Well, it's not like I had any other options besides peeling it off your throat and ganking the bastard!"

"I know Dean, and I appreciate it. I really do. After all the crap we've dealt with the last few years, I'm glad we still have each others' backs. But there's a bigger picture here!" Sam's voice softens a little and he continues. "Look, I understand this shit with the angels sucks. Believe me, I know this isn't easy. But I also know that I can't do this alone, man. I mean...Jesus, Dean! You're acting like we've already lost - like you're already dead again. It's just like before you went to hell."

And there it is. Sam's puppy dog eyes are finally making an appearance, boring into Dean and making him feel guilty for every bad thing that's ever happened in Sam's life. Well, screw that.

Dean's mouth curves up into a tight smile that's anything but joyous. "Know what? I don't need this crap. I really don't. I'm sorry if things got a little hairy back there but news flash, Sam! It's a dangerous job! And I'm sorry if your delicate feelings got hurt 'cause I got to end that fucker, but one of us had to do it and with the way he was wrapped around your neck I knew it wasn't gonna be you! I refuse to apologize for havin' your fuckin' back, Sam, so sue me!"

Dean turns to stomp away across the room when he stops suddenly, turns around and points a finger directly in Sam's face. "And don't try pulling that 'I'm a big boy now and I don't need protecting' crap on me 'cause that's not what this is about."

"Oh really? You sure about that? 'Cause from where I was standing, it sure as hell looked like it. It was a classic 'don't matter if I die as long as precious little Sammy gets to live another day' Dean move and you know it!" Sam bends over, picks up his bag and violently dumps out all the contents on the bed. "And where the hell is my lotion?"

Dean stops whatever tirade he's about to start on and just looks at Sam...and snorts. An actual snort. Sam looks up at his brother, as angry a face as Dean's ever seen on him and he has to add a smirk to his snort because Sam just looks stupidly adorable.

"Your lotion? Seriously? I mean...that is good Sam. That's just...ya know, just when I think you're about to hulk out and start throwin punches at me, you go and say somethin' like that." Dean chuckles, shakes his head, and can't help snorting again. "Lotion."

Sam stands up from the bed, wet hair hanging in his eyes, chest heaving from his outburst of anger and levels a death glare at Dean. "My missing lotion is funny to you somehow?"

"No, Sam. The fact that you're so damn aggravating and yet you look downright fuckable in the middle of an estrogen crisis is funny to me."

Sam does that little head jerk thing and cocks his head to the side while he just stands there and looks at Dean with an unreadable expression on his face like he's trying to read something in a foreign language written backwards on Dean's face from across the room. Finally, he blinks his big almond-shaped eyes at Dean and shakes his head. He looks down at his belongings and starts putting them back in his bag carefully. One by one. Under his breath he mutters, "You won't think it's so funny when I'm too busy scratching my dry, itchy skin to save your ass. Jerk."

Dean just chuckles again, grabs his beer off the table and sits on the bed. He looks up at Sam who is seriously pouting like he hasn't pouted since he was fourteen. How in the hell is Dean supposed to ignore that? A pouty little brother, no matter how old, is just begging to be given some shit. It's practically The Golden Rule according to the big brother handbook. Dean grabs the movie guide off the nightstand and starts scanning over it. He stretches out on the bed, one leg crossed over the other, clasps his hands behind his head, raises an eyebrow and dives right in.

"So, what's it gonna be tonight, Sammy? Beer and porn first or you wanna skip the foreplay and just climb right on?"

Sam looks down at Dean on the bed and gives him an award-winning look of disgust. He scoffs and stutters, "What color is the sky in your world, Dean? I don't even wanna talk to you, let alone..." Sam just gestures between the two of them and shakes his head.

Dean's smirk just gets bigger at how cute he finds the fact that Sam can't even bring himself to say the actual words, which of course just irritates Sam even more. Admitting defeat in the lotion search, Sam grabs a pair of boxers and a t-shirt out of his bag and shuffles towards the bathroom to get dressed for bed. In private.

Dean watches him walk away and after Sam steps into the bathroom Dean yells out, "Wasn't talkin' about exchangin' pleasantries, Sammy!"

Sam looks back out at Dean with a glare and slams the bathroom door. Dean chuckles again and shakes his head. "Ahhh, Sammy."

Dean is flipping through TV stations when Sam comes back out of the bathroom. He reluctantly walks over to his side of the bed, pulls back the covers and climbs in; lying so his back is facing Dean. Dean clicks off the TV and turns out the lamp. He scoots down some but he doesn't completely lie down. He sits there with his back resting against the headboard and just looks at the back of Sam's head. After a few minutes of silence, Sam starts wiggling around, reaching his hand over one shoulder and then the other in an attempt to scratch his back. Then, with the same hand he reaches deep down under his blanket and starts scratching his leg. Dean knows this is a crappy hotel but he's pretty sure there are no bedbugs and he's positive Sam already had chicken pox when he was a kid. Obviously, this is yet another display of the maturity that Sam prides himself on. He tries his best to ignore all of his little brother's flipping and flopping and itching and scratching but then one of Sam's ginormous elbows comes within an inch of ramming into Dean's nose.

"Dammit, Sam. I don't know why you're so concerned about me having a death wish, you're gonna kill me yourself with those humongous lethal weapon arms of yours."

"Well, I'm sorry Dean," Sam replies in a voice that is obviously not apologetic. "I have dry skin and it itches. Excuse me for not thinking of your comfort at the moment."

"What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, right. Helping me out with something like this would prove that I'm just some giant kid that needs to be taken care of. No thank you."

"Actually, your snotty attitude is doing just fine in that department."

Sam flops over on his side, facing Dean, rising up on his elbow, and rests his head on his fist. "You really have no idea why I'm upset, do you?"

Dean lets out a long sigh. "Yeah, I do, Sam. Believe me, I get it. I know exactly what it feels like to lose my brother."

Sam's eyes soften at that and he looks down, avoiding Dean's gaze. But Dean continues anyway. "The last thing I'm planning on doin' is leaving you again. Ever. But I'm not letting you leave me either. I'm not goin' through that again. I can't do it." Dean leans down, grabs Sam's chin in his hand and forces Sam to look him in the eyes before he keeps going. "I don't care if it's an angel, demon, werewolf, or skeevy witch, I'm never letting anything take you away from me again. Neither one of us is dying. Not anytime soon. Not if I can help it. Okay? You hearin' me? It's just you and me, man. To hell with everyone else."

Sam's eyes get a little shiny with unshed tears and he nods even though Dean still has a firm grip on his chin. Dean, uncomfortable with the level of emotion pouring out of both of them, adds "Am I speaking fluent enough Womanese for you to understand?"

Sam rolls his still teary eyes and genuinely smiles at Dean, dimples and all. "Yeah, I hear you. Thanks, Dean."

Dean smiles back but then it fades as he searches Sam's face like he's memorizing every pore. He leans in and lightly presses his lips to Sam's. Sam's eyes flutter closed and one tear manages to escape, silently rolling down his cheek. The kiss is long and soft and soon Dean's lips open, forcing Sam's lips open with them. Dean gently pushes his tongue into Sam's mouth and he feels Sam physically shiver against him. Sam quietly moans a little and leans into Dean to deepen the kiss. Dean's hand wraps around Sam's head and cradles it as Sam lifts it off his hand and straightens his arm to blindly reach for anything Dean. Dean angles his head and slowly glides his tongue in and out of Sam's warm, wet mouth; the taste of Sam making Dean instantly hard. They start grabbing at each other a little more frantically and the kiss becomes harder, deeper, faster. Dean lowers Sam's head down into the pillow and shifts his position so he's lying directly on top of Sam. He pulls back from the kiss, grabs both sides of Sam's head in his hands and just looks into Sam's eyes. Sam doesn't move; just stares right back into Dean's eyes and Dean knows Sam is wordlessly saying all those things he knows Dean is uncomfortable hearing. Dean looks back at him with as much intensity hoping Sam hears the message loud and clear. Then immediately they're back at it again.

Rougher now, as if one of them might disappear if they take it too slow. It's all tongues and teeth and both of them grabbing and clutching almost painfully at each other. Dean, hands tangled up in Sam's gorgeous hair, releases one hand and drags it down Sam's chest and then his stomach - slowing when it reaches the waistband of Sam's boxers. He rubs his hand down the front of Sam's groin, pushing a little harder right over and past Sam's hard length until it reaches the skin of his thigh at the bottom of his boxers. His hand lingers there as he pulls away from the kiss, Sam's mouth following after his in a desperate attempt to keep it locked with his. But Dean just stills and looks down at where his hand is, just barely tickling the inside of Sam's firm thigh. Dean watches his own hand as it starts to move back up the inside of Sam's thigh, his fingers lightly brushing up underneath the cotton boxers until they find Sam's balls, all hot and swollen. Dean feels Sam's eyes on his face as Dean watches his own hand with wonder. When his fingers ghost over Sam's balls, Sam's breath hitches and he lets out a moan from deep down inside, throwing his head back into the pillow. Dean looks back up at Sam as he pushes the boxers to one side of Sam's sac and starts to gently massage his balls, rolling them in his hand. Sam's breathing becomes heavier as he wiggles around restlessly.

"Dean...God...Dean, that...uh...it feels so damn good. Uh...De...Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy, I know, I got ya."

"No, Dean?"

When Dean glances up at him, Sam almost seems to be in pain. "What's wrong, Sammy?"

Sam is breathless with pleasure but there's clearly something else wrong.

"I'm sorry Dean...God that feels so good but I...God...I'm itchy everywhere, man."

Dean pulls his hand back and sits up a little more. "You're itchy. Um, ok. Tell me where it itches."

They're both out of breath and horny as hell but it's as if once Sam mentioned he was itchy, all hell broke loose. Sam pulls his hands away from Dean to scratch his arms and then again tries to twist enough to reach his back. Dean, still fully clothed, gets up off the bed, grabs his coat and heads toward the door. Sam sits up abruptly but doesn't stop trying to reach his back to scratch it. "Where ya goin?"

"Well, neither one of us are gonna get any sleep, not to mention anything else, with you digging into your skin like that all night. So it looks like I'm goin' on a lotion run."

Sam looks at him with a kind of shocked expression and opens his mouth to reply but after slipping his arm through his coat sleeve, Dean holds up a hand to stop him. "And before you get all riled up about being taken care of, don't. I'm doin' this for me." He flashes Sam a devastatingly gorgeous smile and adds, "A man's got needs, Sammy." And with that, he's out the door. Sam just smiles to himself and starts going to town on scratching himself wherever his hands can reach. The rumbling of the Impala announces her return after a few minutes and Dean comes bursting through the door carrying a white paper bag. Dean looks across the room and finds his little brother standing at the edge of the bathroom door rubbing his back against the sharp corner in an attempt to relieve his itching.

"Damn, Sammy. I said I'd be right back. You didn't hafta start rubbin' off on shit and gettin all kinky without me."

"Ha ha. You get the lotion?" Sam asks as he reaches out towards Dean to get the lotion from him.

Dean holds the bag high up in the air behind himself. "Uh uh, little brother. First you gotta tell me who's got the most awesome big brother in the world."

Sam stares down his ridiculously immature brother and makes a sudden grab for the lotion. Dean jumps back even further away from Sam. "All you gotta do is answer the question. Who's got the best big brother in the world?"

Without missing a beat Sam levels his gaze at Dean and says, "Abel."

Dean relaxes his arm as his face twists up in confusion. "Who?"

Sam takes the opportunity of his brother's inability to be confused and pick on Sam at the same time and lunges for the lotion. Before Dean knows it, Sam grabs the bag out of his hand, makes a mad dash for the bathroom and shuts the door. Dean follows Sam to the bathroom and taps on the door.

"Sammy? You need any help in there?"

"Nah, I think I can manage."

Dean just stands there looking at the door. He reaches for the doorknob but then pulls his hand away. After a minute of indecision, Dean finally knocks on the door again. "Sammy?"

The door wooshes open and a slightly irriated looking Sam is standing there. "What Dean? I'm a little busy. Just go to bed. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Dean just looks up at Sam, nods and turns to walk away. He stops mid-step and turns back to Sam. "It's just that, well, if you need help getting your, you know, hard-to-reach places, I can help with that." Dean tries to give Sam a smirk but it probably looks more hopeful than anything as Sam looks back at him with more than a little suspicion in his eyes.

Finally, he gives in and says, "sure Dean. If you wanna do my back, that'd be great."

Sam, dressed only in his boxers, walks over and drops himself facedown on the bed. He holds his arm up to the side and behind him, handing Dean the lotion. Dean grabs the bottle and climbs onto the bed, straddling the backs of Sam's thighs. He shakes the bottle and pops the lid, lifting it to his nose to take a sniff. It didn't smell like flowers or anything, just plain lotion. He thought of making a joke about how he was sorry he couldn't find the girly stuff but decided against it. Things were getting pretty heated up before he left and he was determined to pick up where they left off. Dean fills his hand with the cold lotion and rubs his palms together to warm it up. He figures Sam suffered enough tonight so he isn't gonna make it worse.

Scootching up Sam's thighs, Dean slowly drags himself over his brother's ass until he's straddling his waist. He reaches for Sam's left shoulder and starts there. His fingers are splayed open on Sam's skin as he starts rubbing in the lotion. Sam's skin is soft and slippery while his shoulder is solid and strong. The contrast is already driving Dean crazy as he slathers the lotion across to the other shoulder. He gently massages it into Sam's skin, feeling those firm muscles and he can't help but think how strong and powerful his little brother is and yet Dean still has the urge to protect him like he's breakable.

Dean slowly moves his hands between Sam's shoulder blades and rubs a little harder, almost kneading Sam's skin. The little humming noises that Sam is making instantly make Dean half hard but the feel of his brother's skin under his hands and the slickness of the lotion makes Dean want to take his time and feel every inch of Sam's body.

Dean slowly starts to rub down Sam's back, out toward the sides and rubbing in toward the center. He shifts a little and grinds down into Sam to feel the friction and as he does Sam rumbles out a groan. And yep, now Dean's fully hard. Dean lifts one hand off Sam's back to grab the lotion and he quickly adds more to his palms, rubbing them together to heat the lotion again. He can't stand not having his hands on Sam for another second and right away he's caressing Sam's back again.

This is way more erotic than Dean thought it would be and he doesn't know how much longer he can do this without giving into the urge to cover every inch of Sam with his tongue. His mouth is watering and he's starting to break a sweat. Sam moans again and Dean can hear his breathing getting faster and louder. Obviously Sam can feel, in more ways than one, what this is doing to Dean.

Dean's fingers start moving down Sam's spine until Dean feels a rough patch under his hand. He looks down and instantly stops the massage. Dean's heart skips a beat before taking a nosedive straight into his stomach. Sam's breath hitches as Dean's thumb slowly and softly rubs back and forth over a long pink patch of skin directly over Sam's spine. The scar. The big one. Dean can't stop staring at it. His eyes fill with tears and he can't stop his thumb's gentle caress. Memories and emotions are flooding Dean so fast that he's afraid he's gonna stop breathing. That scar represents so much and it kind of hypnotizes Dean. It's a reminder of the single worst moment of Dean's life; and that's saying something. That scar is basically what took Sammy away from him in the first place. It's what made Dean run to a crossroads demon and sell his soul. That one patch of raised, rough skin is like a giant neon sign screaming out all of Dean's fears, his pain, his failures - how he failed to protect Sammy, how he was so weak he left Sam alone and unprepared, not to mention what he did in hell, which led to this whole freakin' mess they're in now.

"I do." Sam's words drag Dean out of his thoughts and it takes a minute for him to hear what Sam said, let alone respond.

"You do what, Sammy?" Dean croaks out, as if he hasn't used his voice in days.

Sam lifts his head and twists his neck so he can see Dean out of the corner of his eyes. They lock eyes for a moment, each knowing that Dean is beating himself up inside his head. "I have the best big brother in the world."

Dean looks back down at the scar and slightly shakes his head. Dean knows damn well that isn't true. Sam lowers his head back down into the pillow and Dean leans over and kisses that scar. Overcome with emotion, Dean sits up again and lifts his shaky hands to fill them with more lotion. Well, this isn't going as well as Dean wanted it to. His arousal has officially died and more than anything he just wants to get up and walk out the door, only there isn't anywhere for him to go to escape himself. He tries to shake away his feelings of guilt and resumes rubbing the lotion into Sam's back.

He scoots back down to sit on Sam's ass so he can continue his dissent down Sam's body. Sam shifts his hips so his ass rubs against Dean's crotch as Dean lowers himself further to straddle Sam's thighs. Well, that feels kinda good but Dean's pretty sure his own damaged psyche has ruined what could've been a perfectly fun and slippery night. Dean resumes his rubbing until he reaches the waistband of Sam's boxers. "How's that?"

Sam doesn't move his head as he mumbles into the pillow, "Mmmmm Dean, that feels good. Keep going. I mean, if you want to."

And really? Dean feels like he's on an emotional rollercoaster 'cause maybe this night is salvageable after all. He slowly pulls Sam's boxers down over the firm, beautiful globes of Sam's ass. Dean backs up until he's off the bed, pulling the boxers with him. He looks down at Sam lying there in all his naked glory; face down on the bed and no way is Dean gonna say no to that. Dean quickly sheds his overshirt and t-shirt and throws them on the floor. He fills his hand with the lotion and warms it again. Kneeling down at the edge of the bed, Dean reaches for Sam's waist and starts rubbing in the lotion again, down to what has to be the most gorgeous ass in the whole world. He digs his fingers into Sam's cheeks with enough pressure to push Sam's entire pelvis down into the mattress. Sam's obviously not even trying to hide his arousal anymore, as he's panting and making all of those deep little happy noises and grunts that have been Dean's undoing for years. "God, Sammy. You should see yourself right now."

Dean's still rubbing Sam's ass when Sam slowly but not so subtly moves his legs open. Now it's Dean's turn to moan. Jesus, Sam is killing him. Dean's fingers have caressed down to the back of Sam's thighs but his eyes are focusing on something else entirely. Dean makes quick work of slicking up the back of Sam's calves and feet before he moves back up towards the top of his thighs. Still kneeling between Sam's legs at the bottom of the bed, Dean leans his head down and kisses the back of Sam's thighs. The muscles ripple under his lips as Dean keeps his mouth open against the back of Sam's leg. Dean's hands continue to travel up to clutch Sam's ass while his open mouth kisses continue all over the backs of Sam's thighs, toward the sensitive skin on the inside of his legs. Dean's fingertips grip into Sam's cheeks even harder and push him into the mattress once again, causing Sam to damn near whimper.

"God, Dean."

Sam's breathing speeds up and he's moving his own ass up and down slightly with Dean's hands still attached and going along for the ride. Dean's tongue slowly licks along the inside of Sam's thighs, skin soft from drinking in the lotion. Dean keeps moving up until his nose bumps into the back of Sam's balls. He takes a deep breath through his nose, smelling the musky scent of Sam along with the clean scent of the lotion. He wraps his mouth around one of Sam's balls and gently suckles it before moving to the other. He then releases it and licks a stripe up the back of Sam's sac, then over his hole, and up along his crack. Sam is panting loudly at this point and it drives Dean absolutely crazy. He grips the backs of Sam's legs and spreads them open further and crawls on the bed between them.

"Dean...God...that feels so...please Dean..." Sam continues his babbling and he's pretty much humping the mattress at this point.

"It's ok Sammy. Trust me. Whatever you need, I'm gonna give to you." Dean reaches his hands around Sam's hips and hoists them off the bed so his ass is in the air right in front of Dean's face. Dean places another open mouthed kiss to one of Sam's cheeks as he blindly reaches for the lotion again. Dean gets up on his knees and fills his palms with the cool lotion and slathers probably more than he needs all over Sam's back and ass again, not even bothering to rub it in this time. He reaches his goopy hands around to Sam's abdomen and down to his swollen cock, grabs it and gives it a few slick but firm strokes. Dean leans his body flush against the back of Sam's, feeling the slide of the lotion between Sam's back and his stomach.

He leans his face into the back of Sam's neck, momentarily slammed back into reality at the sight of the bruises along the back of Sam's neck. Another reminder that Sam could've easily been taken away from him yet again. Well, fuck that. Dean knows either one of them could be gone tomorrow and he isn't going to wallow in it. If anything, it makes him even more determined to keep going with this; to be so far inside Sam that neither one of them will know where one stops and the other begins.

Dean licks at the bruises at the nape of Sam's neck and then moves his mouth to Sam's ear. "I'm sorry I worried you tonight, Sammy. I'm gonna make it up to you now, though - in every way I can possibly think of." Dean's voice is so predatory, he almost shocks himself and apparently Sam feels it too 'cause he gasps and then emits a sound that is nothing short of a desperate, filthy groan.

Dean sucks on the sensitive skin just below Sam's ear and gives it a quick bite before moving around to the back of Sam's neck. His hand is still on Sam's cock and he starts pumping again, not as hard and fast enough to get him off, just enough to keep his brother panting and moaning beneath him.

"God Dean, I wanna touch you."

Dean's hot steamy mouth pulls away from Sam's neck as he gets back up on his knees and slowly runs a hand down the slippery mess of lotion all over Sam's back. "Not yet, Sammy. I've got a lot to atone for."

Dean lets go of Sam's erection and brings both of his hands around spreading Sam's ass cheeks. Sam's incoherently babbling as Dean firmly presses his tongue to Sam's hole, moves it in and out of the tight ring of muscle and adds a slicked up finger in alongside. Sam groans and gets out what is probably supposed to be a word but sounds more like "Hnnnggghh" as he starts rocking back and forth onto Dean's tongue. Dean pulls his tongue back and adds two more fingers, fucking into Sam at a steady pace. He grabs the lotion again, holds it upside down over Sam's crack and squirts out a glob that glides down until it ends up on the hand that is moving in and out of his brother. He drops the bottle and uses his one free hand to unbutton his jeans and relieve some of the pressure on his aching, throbbing hard-on.

"God, you're so tight. You drive me fuckin' crazy, Sam."

He slows his hand and crooks his fingers, pressing them into Sam's prostate and Sam arches his back and throws his head back, practically looking up at the ceiling, breathing so heavy Dean's afraid he's gonna hyperventilate.

"Dean, I want you in me. Now."

Dean stretches his fingers apart and twists them slightly as he pumps them in and out a few more times before removing them. He stands up and pulls his jeans and boxers off, leaving them a crumpled heap on the floor. Grabbing the lotion off the bed, he pours some more into his hand and slicks up his hot, swollen cock and gives it a few strokes. Kneeling back on the bed between Sam's legs, Dean angles Sam's hips up a little more, pulling Sam up higher on his knees and lines himself up. The copious amount of lotion smeared all over both of them makes Dean's dick slide right in with very little effort until he's balls deep in Sam. They both let out a loud moan and Dean just holds still for a moment. "God, Sam. You feel so good."

Sam is all breathless but he chokes out, "Dean, I need you to move, man."

Dean grabs onto Sam's hips, pulls almost all the way out and pushes right back in, all the way. Again, Dean pulls out and pushes in with such force that Sam moves up the bed a few inches and the headboard bangs loudly against the wall. Sam reaches up and grabs the headboard with both hands to stabilize himself and Dean just starts to plow into him, over and over, thrusting as if he really is trying to climb completely inside of Sam. Dean reaches his hands up and covers Sam's hands on the headboard. He buries his face in the side of Sam's neck while his hips keep up their constant pounding rhythm. Dean's barely pulling back anymore, just grinding his hips pushing into Sam as far and as hard as he can. Dean can tell the constant pressure on Sam's prostrate is making Sam's knees weak so he peels Sam's hands off the headboard and wraps their arms around Sam's chest, pulling him back to lean against Dean's chest. Both on their knees with his back to Dean's chest, Sam is practically sitting on Dean's cock and then Dean feels it. He feels the sensation of not knowing where he ends and Sam begins. He reaches around to grab Sam's cock again and starts pumping it in time with his thrusting up into Sam.

"God, Dean, I...can't...I'm gonna..."

Dean leans his forehead to the back of Sam's neck and lays a soft, loving kiss between his shoulder blades before he says, "Me too, Sammy. Come for me."

Sam practically yells out as thick spurts of come start shooting out to cover his chest and he slumps back against Dean's chest, completely spent. Dean runs his hand through Sam's come and clasps his hands together in front of Sam's chest; holding him steady as he pounds up into Sam's contracting hole a half a dozen more times and then he's coming deep inside his brother, rocking in as deep as he can go to ride out the waves of his intense orgasm. Dean's eyes are squinting tight; he couldn't open them if he wanted to, and he just hangs onto his brother with his face buried in the side of Sam's neck while Sam's head is resting back on Dean's shoulder. There's no other sound in the room but their heavy breathing. Dean somehow manages to lift his head and turn it towards Sam's face as Sam turns to look at him. Sam brings his lips to Dean's and they just sit there for a minute, open lips on open lips, breathing each other's breaths, bodies tangled and connected in every possible way.

"I think we're even now, Dean. All is definitely forgiven."

Dean pulls back a little and looks Sam in the eyes with total seriousness, "Sammy, I promise you, as long as I'm around, I will never let you run out of lotion again."

Sam chuckles and then starts to wiggle a little, as if he's now just realizing what a sticky, goopy mess they both are and the fact that he's still sitting on Dean's dick. Sam raises up to his knees and flops down on the bed, twisting to lay down on his back.

Dean falls forward on top of Sam and presses a few quick kisses to Sam's mouth. "So, after we shower, you're gonna hafta put the lotion on again, huh?"

Sam looks up at Dean incredulously and just chuckles softly, shaking his head.

"I'm just sayin' Sammy, I think I should help you with your front this time. That's all."

Sam tightens his arms around Dean. "Go to sleep, Dean."


Sam lets out a long sigh and keeps his eyes closed. "What, Dean?"

"Seriously, who's Abel?"

"Goodnight, Dean."

Neither of them gets up to take a shower. They just lay there, gooey as hell, and fall asleep.