Title: Breathing Room

Author: Wincesteriffic Kaz

Info: The boys get caught in a tight spot. Set in season 1 anywhere. Dean/Sam

Author's Note: So, it was St. Paddy's day….there was Rum…and I was a teeeensy bit near drunk when I wrote this as prompted by my roomie who said I HAD to. :P All mistakes are my own...or hers. *snort* Wincest, First time, Frottage, some graphic depictions.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em but if I did…they'd never get dressed. Heh heh heh

~Reviews are Love~


"How do we even know he's the guy?" Dean asked his brother as they searched through the single story home belonging to their suspect. "Just 'cause this dude's got a high creep factor doesn't mean he's the one slicing and dicing people. My money's still on that dude at the coroner's office with the hare lip."

Sam chuckled at his brother and pulled open a closet door. "You just don't like his hare lip."

"It gives me the creeps." Dean shivered dramatically and shrugged. "So sue me."

"This guy spent years in southern Africa where he could easily have learned all the voodoo needed here." Sam closed the door and went to the next closet. "If it is him, he'll have a hidden room in here somewhere with his altar."

"I hate witches," Dean grumbled and stomped across the living room floor. He stopped and looked down, stamping his foot a couple more times and raised a brow.

"In voodoo they're not witches. They're…"

"Dude, over here." Dean interrupted and waved Sam over as he bent to the floor and knocked on the boards listening to the hollow sound it produced. Dean grinned at what could only be a trap door. "Yahtzee!" He pulled on the door and it opened up to the side to reveal a large, six or seven foot hidden crawl space under the floorboards. Inside, the wood was painted red with various voodoo symbols scrawled in black on the floor and walls and various candles; half-melted and scattered in the bottom.

"Huh. I would have expected something more from a voodoo altar." Sam commented as he looked over Dean's shoulder. "Not a whole lot of room."

Dean hopped down to get a closer look and wrinkled his nose. "Well, it stinks down here." He sniffed more deeply. "Blood and something else. Yech."

Sam whipped his head up as lights moved across the room from outside and he heard the sound of a car door opening. "Crap! Move!" He pushed Dean down and rolled in on top of him, then pulled the door closed above them.

"Dude!" Dean grunted as Sam's weight settled on top of him. "Dammit! How the hell'd I end up on the bottom?" He groaned, trying to move futilely. "You weigh a freakin' ton!"

"Shh!" Sam hissed and swallowed a yelp when he banged his head on the door. He dropped his head down to the side of Dean's neck and tried to hear over their combined breathing. "He catches us now and we'll have to shoot him!" Sam hissed in warning.

Dean growled irritably but subsided as they heard the front door open and close. "Your stupid hair's tickling my neck," he whispered instead and tried to ignore the way Sam's snort of laughter blew warm breath into his ear and made him tingle in the wrong places.

Sam froze as footsteps crossed over top of them and went further into the house. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position that didn't involve his brother's knee pressing up between his legs, but he was just too damn tall for the compartment.

"Stop squirming," Dean hissed as parts of Sam he spent far too much time trying not to think about were dragging across him suggestively and worse…some of those parts felt distinctly happy to be there. He groaned softly as Sam continued to move and writhe above him. "Dammit…Sam…you need to stop…holy son of a jesus dammit stop moving, Sammy!" The last was a near desperate plea at the sensation of Sam's half-hard cock pressing and rubbing against his own became too much to ignore anymore and a low fire began to burn in his belly.

Sam froze again at the stream of words delivered in a breathless pant and looked down in surprise in the half light from the room above. It hit him suddenly that he wasn't the only one enjoying being pressed this close; he could feel Dean's cock rubbing against his own and bit his bottom lip. A smile began to spread across Sam's face and he pressed his hips into his brother's again experimentally. The smile became a grin as Dean's head dropped back to the floor with a soft thump. Sam couldn't stop the low moan from escaping his throat. "Oh, my god."

"We're goin' to hell." Dean whispered after a moment. All the sick little fantasies he'd ever had paraded through his head, and he didn't even realize he'd moved his hand until he was cupping a hand over one cheek of Sam's ass and his little brother let loose a breathy moan into his ear that made him shiver. "Oh, yeah. You. Me. Brimstone." He gripped his fingers into Sam's backside.

"Dean," Sam's voice was the barest of needy whispers with the sensation of his brother's capable fingers digging into his ass. "Crap." He gave up and moved, using his foot braced against one end of the hidden compartment as leverage. Sam pressed and rubbed their growing erections together while lust pooled in his groin.

"Damn, Sammy," Dean spoke in his ear and took the lobe in his teeth, thrusting his jean-clothed erection up roughly. He grinned at the needy whine Sam gave him and slid his other hand up until he could tangle his fingers in the back of his brother's hair. He pulled gently and had to stifle the moan as Sam's teeth bit his neck in response. "Knew you'd have…a hair kink, little brother."

Sam shuddered both at the sensations and the endearment delivered in a low, growling whisper that tightened things painfully between his legs. "God, Dean." He wished he could get his hands somewhere useful, like between them. He suddenly needed to feel Dean's naked cock in his hand. More than that, he wanted to have the room to get his mouth somewhere useful. "Want to taste you."

"Fuck," Dean groaned as that mental image played dizzyingly through his mind. The thought of Sam's mouth around his cock was almost enough to make him blow right there. He dug his fingers into Sam's hair and yanked his head over enough to run his tongue along his lips.

"Is this…" Sam panted for air and shuddered again as Dean took the opportunity of his open mouth to shove his tongue inside and steal what little breath he had.

Dean plundered Sam's mouth for a few minutes as their hips rolled together and then leaned back, letting him have a breath while he grinned. "What was that?"

Sam dropped his forehead to his brothers and panted. "Gonna be weird later?"

"Only if you stop moving." Dean pulled his head back around and licked his way back into Sam's mouth while he moved the hand on his ass; digging his fingers in hard and pulling Sam's hips in hard each time he pushed up with his own.

Sam had trouble breathing around the building pressure and gasped air from Dean's mouth when his brother spread those nimble fingers on his ass and brushed the back of his testicles. "Fuck!" The word punched out of him and his already painfully swollen cock became impossibly harder and his rhythm started to falter.

Dean growled possessively into Sam's mouth, moving his leg aside as much as he could to give them better access. "More," He ordered, pumping his hips up into Sam's. Their cocks stroked back and forth along each other; the denim was just this side of pain but he didn't care. He wanted more…needed more.

Sam managed to snake a hand down and pulled Dean's outside leg carefully up over his hip. It gave him a more intimate angle and he groaned, sucking Dean's tongue into his mouth. He grinned hungrily as it made Dean give a filthy, happy moan. The fact that they were basically trapped in a tiny crawl space with a serial killer in the house just above them was not forgotten…..it just seemed to become of secondary importance to the lust-need-want that suddenly flowed between them, apparently having been suppressed on both sides for far too long.

They were reduced to rutting hungrily against each other, panting for breath from each other's mouths, Sam fighting the need to moan loudly each time Dean pulled his hair and sent those delicious little stabs of pleasure straight to his cock and Dean lost in the sinful feeling of Sam's giant hand cupped around his hip and into his ass, holding him in place. "Fuck!" Dean groaned hotly and felt Sam losing his rhythm. "That's it, kiddo. Come on." He urged and moved his head from Sam's mouth to bite into his neck. "Come for me."

Sam moaned and knew it was too loud but he couldn't stop it as Dean's words swept through him and straight to his cock. He came in his pants hard enough to see stars and leave him shaking, only distantly aware that Dean was shuddering beneath him, lost in his own release with his teeth clamped over the racing pulse in Sam's neck.

Dean had to fight to suck in enough oxygen as Sam's considerable weight settled into his chest, trembling in his grip and, for the moment, he didn't damn well care. "Damn," Dean said with a breathless chuckle into his brother's ear. He smoothed his hand over Sam's ass, earning a whimper that made him laugh softly as he let his head drop back tiredly. That was worth the uncomfortable drive they'd both have back to the motel in their jeans and that made him grin too.

Sam decided moving was completely off the agenda and turned his head to inhale the scent of his brother instead from his neck. "Mmf."

Both men startled and froze as something banged three times into the floor directly above them. "If you two are quite finished, I'd like to get on with the killing now."

"Fuck." Dean groaned.

"At my back." Sam said and braced an elbow on the bottom of the trap door even as his face burned with embarrassment.

Dean nodded and slid his hand up from Sam's ass to the small of his back; curling his fingers around the butt of his brother's Taurus. "Go."

Sam heaved upward and threw the trapdoor open. He rolled to the side, off his brother in a rush.

Dean took the gun free as Sam moved and raised the muzzle up into the shocked face of one Gustav Morgan; voodoo serial killer and felt absolutely no remorse. "Say goodnight, Gracie." He pulled the trigger before the man could drop whatever wriggling mess he held in his right hand and smiled grimly as he went over backwards; dead.

Sam scrambled out of the compartment on rubbery legs and knelt over Morgan. "Oh that's just wrong." The man held a fistful of someone's writhing intestine in one hand. "Guessing that wouldn't have been good if he'd tossed it on us."

"Ya think?" Dean handed Sam's gun back to him and then pulled irritably at the wet front of his jeans. He looked over at his little brother and smirked.

"Shut up," Sam rolled his eyes and stood, trying to walk and hold the sticky denim away from his skin at the same time. "Burn it down?"

"Oh, hell yeah." Dean went into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of salt from the counter and tossed it to Sam then grabbed hold of the stove and pulled it out until he could reach the gas line; pulling it loose.

Sam dumped salt over the intestines and the dead man. "I suppose we were never going to be able to just take him in."

"Dude was too far gone, kiddo." Dean came out and took Sam's shoulder, turning him toward the door as he pulled a book of matches from his pocket. He waited for Sam to step outside then knelt and set the matchbook just inside the door. He bent one match up from the others, lit it and shut the door. They jogged down the block to the Impala. The impromptu timer set off the gas as they got in the car.

Dean watched with a grin as the windows of the house blew out in a spray of fire and glass. "I love it when a plan comes together."

Sam laughed, rolling his eyes and got in the car. He shifted awkwardly on the seat in his uncomfortably dirty pants and saw Dean doing the same. "So, what now?"

"Now?" Dean looked over with a grin that was all naughty. "Shower."

Sam's mouth dropped open and he turned to look out the window as another smile spread across his face. If Dean wasn't going to be weird about it, neither was he. God knows he had sometimes wondered in his darker fantasies what it might be like to be with his brother, but never in his wildest dreams expected to have the chance to find out. Sam bit at his bottom lip again…this time he'd have room to enjoy himself.

"When you grin like that I get nervous," Dean said and glanced over at his little brother. The look on Sam's face was eloquent and made him shiver as his spent cock gave an interested twitch; making him smirk. It was going to be an interesting night.


Not The End anymore...a shower scene was requested...loudly. LOL Will be coming soon. :P