Denton, Texas
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Sam leaned back against the pillows on the king-sized bed and picked up the remote control. He tapped on the channel-up button a few times. At half past midnight, there really wasn’t anything on television worth watching, but he knew better than to try to fall asleep yet. They weren’t going to be back on the road for six more hours, and he wasn’t quire tired enough to catch any winks. He left it on the weather channel and absently listened to the report. Cold, but not too cold. Watch for ice on the bridges.
A little bit of extra light filtered in when Dean opened the bathroom door and came out with a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet hair clung to his scalp and little beads of water dotted his shoulders like fresh sweat. “There’s still some hot water left,” he said.
“Thanks.” Sam eased himself off the bed; there wasn’t anything else he wanted to do right then, so he might as well take a shower. “Are you going to get dressed?”
“I don’t know,” said Dean. He sat down in one of the two chairs at the motel’s room’s small brown table. “That depends on you.” He picked up his half-full bottle of Coors and lifted it to his lips, eyes never leaving Sam's.
“The suitcase is on top of the dresser.”
Sam stood in the shower for a lot longer than he needed to; long enough to lather his body with soap, rinse it off, and let it run cold through his hair. He shivered and hugged himself, trying not to think about the last time he’d been standing in a shower in a motel room in a new city. Last time, his back had been pressed against the yellowed tiles, and his front was pressed against Dean “ arms wrapped around each other, hips grinding together, mouth fastened to hot mouth. And after they’d stepped out...
He felt a familiar tingle creep down his stomach to his crotch. Damn it.
The cold water wasn’t helping anymore, so he quickly turned it off and dried himself. And it definitely didn’t help that he knew Dean was in the room “ in the room with the single bed “ waiting for him. Not this time, Sam thought, and he contemplated jerking off right there, to get it out of his system.
No, he was going to get through the night with sheer willpower. He ignored the small sense of defeat that sparked inside of him with that thought (did “sheer willpower” ever work?) and pulled his boxers and T-shirt on.
Dean was already in bed, wearing nothing but a pair of ratty shorts. He was nursing his fourth beer and staring at the television set, obviously waiting for Sam to hurry up. Quite obviously; his free hand was resting on his thigh, only inches from the erection that lifted his shorts away from the rest of his body.
Sam strolled past his line of vision and settled himself down on the far edge of the bed. He slid under the top layer of covers and faced the door. “Good night, Dean.”
“All right, Sam, I give up. What’s eating you?”
“Can’t a guy try to get some shuteye without an interrogation?”
“You’re not fooling me. You’ve been in a mood, and no, it didn’t just start yesterday. It got worse yesterday, but it’s been building.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine.” Dean changed the channel, and the TV set came alive with black-and-white images of cowboys on horseback.
“This is the problem,” Sam muttered.
“What? Couldn’t hear you.”
Sam ground his teeth. “I said, this is the problem. You’re hot and then you’re cold, and I never know what the hell to expect.”
“Personal life and professional life. They’re separate, and they’re supposed to be separate, and you can match which one we're in with how we act. That clear it up for you?”
“No, it doesn’t. I’m tired of keeping everything in the shadows. I care about you and not just some of the time.”
Dean looked over at him in the dim lamp light, eyebrows down over squinted eyes. “Look, maybe I don’t show it the same way that... some people would have. But,” and he inched closer to Sam on the bed, close enough to lean over him, breath hot over Sam’s cheek, “do you think I’d be risking my neck to save yours if I didn’t care?”
Sam twitched and twisted. “You said yourself that you need me as backup.”
“And I wouldn’t choose anyone over you,” Now Dean was close enough that Sam could feel the warmth of his body right behind him, and Sam mentally cursed at himself for being so sensitive to the gentle heat and vibrations of the voice whispering past his face. “You need to unwind a little bit, Sammy.”
“It’s Sam.” He pulled away, even though that put him precariously close to falling off of the bed.
“Sorry,” Dean said, and he took Sam’s hand. “Come here.”
Sam was melting at the touch now, and he hated himself for it. His resolve had lasted exactly three minutes, and now he was looking up into Dean’s green eyes, feeling the tension in his limbs weaken, his insides turn to jelly. “Dean, I-”
Dean bent his head down and kissed Sam hard. Dean tasted like beer and beef taquitos and sweet comfort, all mingled together, and Sam resisted the urge to slip his tongue into Dean’s mouth and drink it deeper. It was Dean who broke the kiss first, though, and he ran his thumb over Sam’s lower lip. “I’ll stop if you want me to,” he whispered.
“No.” Sam found his voice - distant, raspy. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Sam thought he heard triumph in his brother’s voice “ and despite the swelling between his legs, the way his breaths were already coming out faster, the uncomfortable heat of his shirt, he still remembered that he was not a thing to be conquered.
He threw Dean off of him and knelt upright in the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor, pulling energy from the look of surprise on Dean’s face.
“Sam, if you wanted to be on top, all you had to do was tell me.”
“Then I’m telling you.” He thought could hold out on Dean another day; now he didn’t quite have it in him to pull back. He yanked his boxers down to his knees and kicked them off the rest of the way; the sudden release of pressure made him sigh with relief even though the recycled air in the hotel room felt colder to his cock than it did to his face.
“I could get used to this view,” Dean remarked, but Sam shut him up by covering his mouth with his own and finally giving himself permission to explore every inch behind those seductive lips. Oh, yeah.
Sam slid his hand down Dean’s tight chest, over firm abdominal muscles now rock-hard with anticipation, down to the loose elastic band around his waist. He held back for a moment, hovering just enough above Dean to look right into his eyes and read the impatience. “You’re enjoying teasing me,” said Dean.
“You bet I am.” Sam’s thumb slid under the band, feeling warm skin and a few wiry hairs. It took all of his control to go slow, dragging it out as long as he could withstand waiting. He already felt the beginnings of fire in his veins, sparks collecting together, and he reached further under Dean’s shorts. His fingertips brushed against the rigid cock hidden under thin fabric, and both men gasped at the same time.
“Sammy “ Sam. Get on with it.”
“Shh.” Sam massaged the hard length, softly at first, then applying more pressure with every stroke. He collected the leaking drops dripping from Dean’s cock and lifted his hand to his mouth, then sucked his fingers clean.
Dean let out a strangled yelp and jerked forward when they broke contact. Sam pressed Dean’s hips back against the mattress and peeled his boxers off. Even though it took all his effort, he fought to keep his limbs steady and his motions smooth. “You know, I’m liking the view, too,” he said. Almost too breathy.
He stood up and dashed for the open suitcase. The room felt cold now, too cold when he wasn’t touching Dean. Sam reached into the small pocket attached to the inside lining and pulled out a bottle of Astroglide. He carried it back over to the bed, and knelt over Dean, one knee at each side of Dean’s waist, before opening the bottle and pouring a small amount out onto his hand.
Sam watched Dean’s eyes shift, his gaze traveling from Sam’s face to crotch, while he reached down to apply the lube. He took his time; he savored every stroke while the cold slick warmed to body temperature and his fingertips left trails of fire on his skin. He had to sit back on Dean’s thighs to keep him from shifting around, and it was only after about two minutes had passed, marked by quickened breathing from both of them, that he scooted back and rested his hands on Dean’s knees.
“Ready to get started?” he asked.
“Waiting on you.”
Sam grinned and pushed Dean’s legs up. They were both strong and agile, and now they found a use for those talents beyond fighting demons and other pests. Dean held himself in position, knees pressed into his chest, while Sam sat down in front of him. Dean braced himself, resting his ankles on Sam’s shoulders, when Sam hunched over and pressed his dampened fingertip against Dean’s hole.
“Relax,” Sam whispered, and when he felt the tension fall away, he pushed his finger inside, inch by inch. So warm, so soft when he relaxes... mm, he thought, and swirled his finger in a small circle.
Dean sucked in his breath, sharply, and Sam took that as his cue to continue. Truthfully, he didn’t know how long he could wait; the throbbing in his groin had gone from a pleasant tingle to painful demand for attention. He slid his third finger next to his index finger and pumped them both in and out, slow and rhythmically and then faster.
Can’t wait longer. He separated his fingers and withdrew them, then wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. Dean pulled his legs back even more.
Sam drew in a long breath and scooted forward. He pushed the swollen purple head towards Dean’s ass, up against the slicked hole. Dean wouldn’t beg him, wouldn’t even ask; Sam knew better than to wait for a verbal cue to proceed. Dean’s half-closed eyes were all he needed, and Sam thrust his hips as far as he dared in one motion. Tight heat enveloped him and he swallowed the moan that began to collect in his throat. He continued to push in, deeper... deeper... ohhh. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Dean’s.
Dean wrapped his legs around Sam, and Sam held himself upright, part of his weight supported by his arms and part resting on Dean. He thrust in and out with more and more force, and Dean writhed against him. Sam became aware, through the haze of burning pleasure, that Dean was gripping his shoulders and digging his fingers around Sam’s bones “ and that both of them were moaning loudly enough to wake the dead.
Sam saw exploding lights, and he put his head down on Dean’s shoulder, gently sucking on his neck while the shuddering bliss ripped through his body. It shot out of him in one long gush, spilling deep inside Dean, and a series of lighter ripples milked the rest.
He felt a warm spray on his chest and stomach, and reluctantly he pulled his spent cock out of Dean’s trembling ass and settled down beside him. “That was... wow,” Sam said, and was surprised to find himself suppressing a yawn.
“Yeah. I taught you well.” Dean gave him a lazy, tired smirk and pulled Sam close. “Are you going to be able to get some sleep now?”
Sam nodded, and gave Dean one more kiss before closing his eyes, lips touching softly to a flushed cheek. The whole situation and their whole lives were incredibly fucked up, but at that moment, he hardly cared. I love you, he wanted to say, but didn’t. It didn’t work that way. He and Dean were friends with benefits “ okay, very good friends and brothers with benefits, but he knew better than to expect some kind of fairy tale romance. And definitely knew better than to talk about it and ruffle the veil of post-coital sedation that was settling over both of them, lulling him gently into a short sleep.
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