Makin' Up Ain't So Hard To Do

AN: This is a fic I owe to Wincesteriffic Kaz for doing some mundane task for me. She asked for Imapala sex. So I was gonna have the boys have sex WITH the car because I can't help it when that's the first thing I think when I hear that xD. But I did this instead. It has close to no plot. Already established relationship (though that's not obvious until later).

*Graphic sexual depictions*

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters. I just put them in situations that may or may not be damnable to their souls. I'm gonna go ahead and say they'll be just fine. Ain't nothin' wrong with who you screw as long as it's something they both want ;)

.~*~,

They were storming back toward the car, both out of breath from the pace. Sam could barely keep up.

"Dean, what the hell is your problem?" Sam asked as he watched the obvious signs of an angry stride. Dean didn't respond. "Dean!" he shouted again as they reached the car.

Dean spun around causing Sam to almost comically stop mid-step, almost crashing into his brother. Dean grabbed the from of Sam's shirt roughly. "You wanna know what the hell my problem is?" he yelled. "You could've been killed, you idiot!"

If he wasn't so out of breath, his instinct would've had him clamp his mouth shut with the lack of defense.

.~*~.

They'd driven into town earlier that day, Sam ready to go looking for the monster, but Dean too wiped to leave the hotel bed yet. He'd insisted they sleep first; they'd both been up all night. But Sam had grown restless. He'd known where to look and was close to a hundred percent sure what they were ganking. It was a spirit problem, they knew that. And after researching while Dean dozed off, Sam discovered that the body had been cremated. But the death happened in the forest, and they'd found the man hanging in the trees. The rope he'd been strung up on was still out there.

So all Sam needed to do was go and burn that rope, which probably had absorbed some blood and was the one thing keeping the spirit around. Only, after leaving a note about where he was headed, sneaking out and going to the forest, he soon discovered why the rope was still up in the tree. It was too high up to reach.

So he'd climbed up the tree. It was pretty high up and it was hard for him to believe that the guy had climbed up there to kill himself instead of finding a branch lower to the ground, until he realized that it'd been such a long time since the suicide happened, the tree had to have grown considerably.

He reached the branch and began to reach out to set the rope on fire. Long story short, he should've taken that bit of sleep before coming out. If he'd had a few hours of rest, he might've thought ahead that crucial few seconds before lighting it up. He might've thought to cut the rope free of the tree before setting it on fire, and then maybe he could've avoided the sudden panic when the flames began to move up onto the branch.

"Sam!" he heard Dean's voice in the distance. Another kind of panic mixed with a bit of relief washed over him.

"Dean!" he shouted as he frantically tried to break the branch loose with his foot. "Over here! I'm okay!" he added just so Dean would stop sounding so frantic.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean shouted once he spotted him.

"Burning the rope he hung himself with!" Sam shouted down and then successfully snapped the branch apart and watched it head down to the ground. "Heads up!"

"For crap's sake!" Dean grumbled as he watched the flaming rope hit the earth and continue to burn. "Why would you come out here without me? Anything could've happened!" A loud crack sounded above him and he looked up just as Sam reached out for the trunk of the tree as the branch supporting his weight began to break. "Sam!"

"I'm okay!" he replied, but his grip began to falter just as the branch broke, and Dean's eyes grew wide, heart stinging in his chest with fear as his brother began hurling toward the ground.

"Sammy!" Dean lunged forward just in time to break Sam's fall, sending them both onto the ground with a grunt. Dean held onto him for a moment. "You okay?" he asked once his breath came back.

"Yeah," Sam replied shakily. "You?" Dean pushed Sam off of him and pushed up to stand. Sam had to fight to catch up to him as he stalked back toward the car...

.~*~.

"You could've been killed, you idiot!" Dean shouted with his hands clenched in Sam's shirt.

"I...I'm sorry, Dean, I..."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Huh? Why would you do that?"

But before Sam could reply, Dean's mouth was on his, roughly, taking, his hands pulling him flush against him. Shock rushed like water through Sam all the way to his toes before the lust did. Then he felt himself spun around and thrown halfway up onto the hood of the car.

"I'm so pissed at you," Dean growled in Sam's face, snarling. Sam still couldn't respond, out of breath from more than just the rush of keeping up with his brother. "What were you thinking, huh? Do you have any idea..." he didn't let Sam respond before his mouth was on his again, hands moving down to where denim met brass, and began pulling open the button and zipper.

A thrill shot through Sam. This wasn't even close to their first time, but it was definitely the first time instigated by anger. And as Dean's teeth sunk into the flesh of Sam's neck, Sam couldn't help the surprised yelp that quickly turned into a groan as Dean's hand slid roughly into Sam's jeans, cupping his rapidly hardening cock.

"You fucking asshole," Dean hissed through his teeth in Sam's ear. "What would've happened if I hadn't come after you? You could've broken your damn back. You could've laid there and died and I would've found you like that in the morning. What the fuck would I have done, huh?" There was pain laced in the anger in Dean's voice, and Sam's heart clenched despite the feel of Dean's hand squeezing around him.

"Dean...I'm sorry..."

"Yeah, you're gonna be," Dean said as he pulled his hand away and flipped Sam around so fast he nearly smashed his face into the cold metal of the hood. By the time Sam got his hands planted firmly enough to lift his head back up, Dean had Sam's jeans tugged down to his knees. He heard him spit behind him.

"De-" he worried a bit at the fact that they wouldn't be using any lube other than saliva.

"Still nice and opened up for me, Sammy?" Dean asked as his fingers nudged their way inside, to Sam's surprise with more ease than he'd figured. Sam whimpered beneath him. "Mmm that's good, because I'm not in the mood to make this nice and sweet," he told him before pulling his fingers out, and shoving his spit-slicked cock into him all at once.

Sam couldn't help the shout that escaped him at the sudden full stretch that bordered on intolerable pain. Dean had slight mercy on him, not moving for a few moments to allow Sam the chance to relax a bit. As he felt Dean's arm come around him to grasp his still hard cock, he realized that the pain hadn't bothered it at all, and as Dean stroked him he began to marginally relax.

"You don't deserve nice, Sam. Not after what you did," Dean almost whispered as he grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair to yank his head back closer to his ear. "Shouldn't even let you come." Something in Dean's voice, maybe in his words, made Sam groan deep in his throat, and he felt Dean's hand tighten in his hair just as he pulled out and pressed back in, hitting that perfect spot he new exactly how to hit in Sam. He knew all Sam's perfect spots and knew exactly how to press them.

Sam couldn't understand why this treatment, why the tone in Dean's voice and the violent, unrelenting thrusts would turn him on as much as it was. It hurt. It hurt, but it was so good and he was so furiously hard and ready to come apart, he could scream, but Dean's fingers were pinching the base to stop him.

"Fuck," Dean cursed against the back of Sam's neck. "So fucking tight... You're so fucking tight, Sam. Fuckin' love this, don't you? So hard...geezus..."

"Please!" Sam said in an out-rush of air. "De- guh! Dean, please!" he begged. "I can't...I need..."

"You wanna come, Sammy?" Dean asked, teeth grazing over the skin of Sam's neck as his brother nodded shakily. "Come, then. Come on her," he hissed through clenched teeth and released the pinched fingers, instead reaching down to tug on Sam's balls.

Something electric shot through Sam's whole body at that. Dean wanted him to come on his car; his baby. He wanted his hot, sticky come on the paint job he so passionately protected from all dangers.

And Sam wasn't about to disappoint him.

His orgasm punched out of him like a freight train, so hard and fast his vision whited out for a few moments, and when his senses came back online he saw the wet stripes on the hood beneath him shining in the moonlight, and felt Dean's strong arm around his midsection holding him up. Dean wasn't inside him anymore.

Dean stroked himself hard and fast, shouting with his release as he watched it hit Sam's lower back where his shirt had ridden up. It dripped down the crack of his ass as Dean brushed the head of his still throbbing cock through the mess and back down to Sam's reddened, abused hole and pressed back in. Sam realized that with the puffs of breath heaving from Dean's mouth at his ear, he was saying, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," like a mantra.

When Dean came back to himself, he realized that Sam's arms were shaking with the effort of holding their weight up from collapsing onto the hood. All at once, the recollection of the things he'd just done...now that the anger wasn't clouding his judgment, he was able to comprehend the fact that he'd just forced himself on his brother.

"Shit," he began to pull away, careful not to hurt Sam any further as he pulled out. "Shit, Sammy, I'm sorry. Fuck I'm sorry. Fuck!" He shakily tucked himself back into his pants and pulled the zipper up before going to help Sam.

"Dean?" Sam was confused as his brother's shaky hands began cleaning him off with a handkerchief he'd pulled out of his pocket. He turned when Dean didn't answer, and the cloth dropped to the ground. "Dean, what-" Dean dropped to a crouch to get the cloth, and Sam pulled his jeans up and did up his fly.

"Damnit...damnit," Dean shook his head, still crouching as he tightened his hand around the cloth.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam asked, dropping to crouch down in front of him, brows furrowed with concern at the way Dean was acting.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry," he looked up at him with wet eyes.

"What're you talking about?" Sam asked with a disbelieving smile as his hands came up to either side of Dean's face.

"I hurt you," Dean replied. "I...I forced you..."

"You think I couldn't have gotten away if I didn't like it?" Sam asked, and Dean's eyes shifted away for a moment. "Dean, I know it wasn't like our usual...ya know...stuff we do. But it was good. I mean, if it wasn't already obvious, I really liked it."

"And if you hadn't liked it?" Dean asked. "It's like I didn't even care. I was just pissed off and I...hell I don't even know what came over me."

"If you fuck me like that every time I do something stupid, I'm gonna have to start doing stupid things more often." Though Sam's smile was warm and sincere, Dean still looked at him with skepticism. Sam shook his head, then leaned in to give him a reassuring kiss. When he pulled away he said, "I'm sorry I took off without you. I promise not to do it again, okay?"

"Good," Dean replied, still a bit unsure of how to feel.

"And I promise that I'm okay with the angry make-up sex. That's what it was, Dean." He watched as Dean seemed to think that through, and as he did, Sam realized that Dean probably had never been in a relationship long enough, before, to get to a point where make-up sex was necessary.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, hopeful.

"Yeah," Sam smiled. They pushed up off the ground.

"Here," Dean handed him the handkerchief. "Get your jizz off the hood before it strips the paint," he smirked. Sam let out a huff of a laugh.

~End