"I have a confession."

Dean froze, bore brush stuffed into the gun barrel. "That's like saying, 'We need to talk.' Usually, you don't wanna hear what comes next."

Sam leaned against the front door of the motel room, rubbing his palms down the front of his jeans.

"The shifter. I kinda wished we hadn't killed it."

Dean's expression turned grim.

"What the hell, Sammy?"

"Hear me out, Dean." Sam extended his palms as though trying to stop Dean from charging at him and slamming him against the door.

"Better be good." Dean pulled the bore brush out and set it and the handgun down.

"I mean... when he was there, as you, and then you came in..."

Dean pursed his lips. "Yeah?"

"Come on, Dean. Think about it."

"Think about what? That there was a sicko monster wearing my skin, about to kill you, Sammy?"

Sam's mouth twitched. "What if you'd been able to capture it? Like...tie it up?"

"I'm not following you. At all." Dean took a swig of whiskey.

Sam rested his thumb loosely on his belt buckle, tapping his fingers unconsciously against his crotch.

"Dean. Two of you."

Dean just stared at Sam for a moment. Then his eyes widened.

"Damn, Sammy. My sweet little brother. Such a freak."

Sam's eyes darkened at that word, flickered downward for a second, and then he was pushing away from the door.

Dean was on his feet immediately, pressing Sam back against the wood, fists gripping his shirt. "MY freak."

Sam refused to look at him. "Knew I should have kept my mouth shut."

Dean gripped his jaw and tipped his face up, forcing Sam to look him in the eyes. "Hey. That's a GOOD thing." He rubbed his thumb over Sam's jaw. "Love that you're a freak for me, Sammy. Fucking love it. Can't get enough of it, alright?"

Sam huffed in a single heavy breath, not sure if he should let it go.

Dean reached down between them, ran his hand between Sam's legs, squeezed while nipping at Sam's neck. "Want two of me to fuck you, Sammy?"

Sam's breath caught in his throat.

"Want to suck me off, looking up at me, while I fuck your ass nice and hard, at the same time?" Sam's cock fattened beneath Dean's fingers, and he bared his throat with a soft little moan. "Want me to hold you down and ride your ass until I come all up inside you, and then there I am again, rock hard and ready to go, fucking you again? Filling you up again. Over. And over. And over." A flick of his fingers, and the buttons of Sam's jeans were open, his hand jamming its way inside, taking hold of his cock.

Sam was panting now, fists clenching at his sides, knowing when they played this game, he didn't get to touch Dean without express permission, knowing Dean would work his cock with his hand and say desperately filthy things to him, watching Sam's face, getting off so hard and so deep on watching Sam's face, watching him writhe, slowly break down until he was begging to touch Dean, just touch his face with his hand, begging to come for him, come so pretty, come so hard.

"You like that?" Sam nodded, biting his lip. Dean snapped up the bottle of gun oil, squirted a line across his hand, and smeared it all over Sam's cock. Sam shivered and threw his head back, smacking it against the wood.

Dean worked his hand on Sam slowly, tugging and squeezing his balls, stroking the length of his cock, moving his palm and fingers in tight circles over the head.

"Two of me, all for Sammy. So greedy. One's not enough for you?"

Sam shook his head. "You're enough. Fuck. More than enough. But..."

Dean leaned in, sucked a red mark into the flesh of Sam's neck. "But two of me, Sammy. Imagine. What two of me. Could do to you."

Sam's whole body undulated, hips pushing out from the door, thrusting into Dean's hand.

Dean pulled Sam's boots off, shoved Sam's pants down to his ankles, yanked them off, stripped his shirt off. "That's how I want you, Sammy. Naked. Buck naked for me." Dean, fully dressed, pushed Sam back against the door, and kissed him hard, sucking on his lower lip until Sam gasped.

"Know what I love best about this, Sam? How innocent and shy you are-until I touch you. All it takes is a touch-"And Dean illustrated, trailing his fingertips down Sam's chest and stomach-"And you turn into a slut. Just for me."

Sam's hands scrabbled at the door, desperate to grab onto something. "Please."

Dean ghosted his fingers over Sam's cock, so lightly. Sam bucked against him, desperate for more contact. "Nobody else has ever gotten this out of you, Sammy. Nobody makes you lose your fucking mind like this. Just me."

Sam whispered, "No. Just you. Fuck. Just you, Dean."

Dean grinned, and bit down on Sam's nipple. Sam arched into it, taking it, giving into the sharp, sweet pleasure.

"Nobody else could. 'Cause you're not a slut, Sammy. Nowhere near it. Such a good boy. But..." Dean sucked and lapped at Sam's nipple, eliciting rough cries, Sam writhing under the feel of his mouth and tongue. "But you're such a slut for me."

"Yes. Yes. Yes." Sammy thrashed his head back and forth, tangling his hair in a sex knot against the wood.

"Such a slut for me that you want two of me to fuck you. Want to get on top of me, rub your cock against mine, rub off on me while I'm behind you too, fucking you?" Dean twined his fingers over Sam's cock, working him harder now, pinching Sam's left nipple with his other hand, watching his face contort with pleasure.

"Open your eyes. Look at me." Sam obeyed.

"You can touch me."

Sam exhaled, and grabbed Dean's back, pulling him closer, touching his shoulders, his arms, his face, his back again, as though touching him was the best thing ever.

"Or maybe..maybe you're such a slut for my cock that you want two of me so we can both fuck you in the ass at the same time." Dean kept his eyes locked on Sam's face as he spoke. Sam's pupils went nearly black, and he stopped breathing for a split second.

And Sam went fucking crazy. He grabbed Dean's face with both hands and held him still, kissed him hard enough to draw a trace of blood with his teeth, lapped at it, sucked Dean's tongue deep into his mouth, hips pumping absolutely shamelessly, fucking Dean's hand, legs spread, thigh muscles flexing, moaning and crying out into Dean's mouth, and coming, coming all over Dean, all over his fist, all over his jeans, spilling onto his boots.

And Dean sucked the orgasm from Sam's mouth, vibrating on Dean's lips, tickling his tongue, wringing aftershock after aftershock from his cock, demanding it.

Sam fell to his knees with a sound much like a sob, and took Dean's cock into his mouth, sucking it with his whole body, it seemed, arching his back as he drove his mouth down, curling his back as he pulled back, digging his fingers into Dean's thighs, staring up at him, never breaking eye contact, letting Dean watch his little brother suck him dry, send shivers up his spine to explode behind his eyes in white and silver fireworks as he came in Sam's mouth, came all over his strong, wet tongue, came so hard he spilled out of the corners of Sam's mouth.

Dean leaned forward, bracing himself against the motel door with one hand. "Goddamn, baby boy." Sam pressed his cheek against Dean's softening cock, hands wrapped around the small of his back, catching his breath, his tongue slowly darting out to capture the last traces of Dean on his lips. Dean stroked Sam's sleek brown hair. "Goddamn."

After Sam gave it up to Dean like that, so good, so uninhibited, Dean was always so high from it that he'd give his Sammy anything he want. Eat shrimp salads, go for a walk on the marina, watch Real Housewives and cuddle. And he made a point of showing Sam how much he loved him, to make sure he didn't kick over into post-slutty!Sam shame. Which was the last fucking thing Dean ever wanted to happen. His slutty Sammy was beautiful and holy and sacred.

And that's what they did. All three. Shrimp salad, then a walk on the Marina, with a promise to snuggle and watch reality TV back in the motel. As they walked next to the water, lights from the boats scampering across the surface, Sam's eyes were glowing, basking in the public displays of affection with which Dean was lavishing him. Dean thought Sam had never looked happier in his life.

But he had a plan to make his Sammy even happier. He couldn't find him a Dean double. And if there was an evil twin out there, Dean would just as soon kill him as let him touch Sam. But he remembered something he'd heard someone joke about in the Roadhouse.

A site called Clone a Willy.

And Sammy's birthday was a month away.