The Long and Winding Road (amypond45) wrote,
The Long and Winding Road
amypond45

MASTERPOST: I Want You to Want Me - (Sam/Dean, NC-17)

Title: I Want You to Want Me
Author: amypond45
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: wincest, somnophilia

Dean gets hit on the head during a hunt and nearly dies. When he comes to, Sam kisses him. Now Dean can’t stop thinking about it. Set vaguely mid-series at Christmastime.

A/N: Written as a gift for runedgirl for the 2020 spn_j2_xmas Bang. Title is from a Cheap Trick song.

Now with art by dwimpala67:



Be sure to visit their art link (above) to leave some love!

Read the Fic On A03 | Or below the cut:

//**//**//


Sometimes it scares Dean how much he loves his brother.

He suspects Sam knows, which is at least part of the terror he feels. Dean smothers his brother, holds him back, keeps him from having the life he deserves, the one with the pretty blonde wife, a couple of kids, and a white picket fence. Dean prevents Sam from being normal.

That’s why he left for Stanford in the first place, after all. Sam needs his independence far more than he needs Dean. In fact, Dean’s pretty sure that Sam doesn’t need Dean at all. Dean’s a drag. He’s nothing but a grunt. Nobody could love him. It’s no surprise Sam doesn’t.

At least, that’s what Dean thought before yesterday. Yesterday, Sam kissed him.

Didn’t mean anything, he tells himself. Two days before Christmas they were on a hunt, got separated, and Dean got hit on the head and knocked out. When he came to, Sam was kneeling next to him, touching him all over, checking for injuries like they always do with each other. Sam looked worried. Freaked.

“Hey,” Dean said, trying to smile, trying to reassure.

Sam looked up with a little gasp and Dean realized right then: Sam had thought he was dead. When he grabbed Dean’s face and planted one on him, it didn’t even register at first. It’s just a quick press of lips, obviously unpremeditated. No tongue. Over almost before it started, definitely before Dean could reciprocate.

Plenty of gruff hemming and hawing and not looking each other in the eye followed as Sam helped Dean get up and Dean brushed him off and they got back to work cleaning up the mess. Nothing to see here, nothing out of the ordinary, not talking about it to save their lives.

Obviously.

Only now, a day later, Dean can’t stop thinking about it. Sam’s lips were soft and warm. His big, capable hands made Dean’s skin tingle. Now, every time Sam brushes against him, Dean’s dick twitches.

And the fact is, they brush against each other a lot. Sometimes they’re just walking side by side, or Sam’s right behind him so close Dean can feel his heat. They sit side by side on a couch when they’re interviewing a witness, knees and thighs pressed together, and Dean can’t think straight because it feels too good. In the car, Sam sits with his knees spread wide, one hand resting on the bench between them, just touching Dean’s hip, and Dean’s hyper-aware. Can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to have Sam’s big, warm hand spread wide on his thigh, moving possessively up the inside seam of his jeans...

“Dean?”

Dean jumps.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

Sam’s been bitching at him from the passenger seat for God knows how many minutes while Dean has been fantasizing about Sam’s hands, and now Dean flushes to the tips of his ears.

He must’ve got hit on the head harder than he thought.

“What?”

“The case?” Sam frowns at him, clearly irritated. “The couple who got their hearts ripped out?”

“Right,” Dean nods. “The werewolf thing.”

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. Maybe we should stop at a hospital. Get you checked out. You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“Define weird,” Dean demands gruffly. Can Sam tell?

“Distracted. Moody. Like your thoughts are a thousand miles away. You barely look at me.” Sam peers at him suspiciously. “Is there something on your mind? Something you’re not telling me?”

“What? No! What could possibly be on my mind that I’m not telling you? I tell you everything, you know that!” Dean thinks he might be just a little too defensive on that point, but it’s too late to take it back.

Sam snorts. “No, you don’t. You keep secrets from me all the time.”

“I do not!” Dean protests indignantly.

Sam makes a skeptical face. Dean doesn’t even have to look at him to see it. He keeps his eyes on the road and still sees Sam’s skeptical expression.

“Name one,” Dean insists. “Name one secret I kept from you. Recently. Because what happened in the past doesn’t count.”

He adds the last part because his mind goes immediately to the thing Dad said to him before he died, which he definitely didn’t tell Sam right away because it sucked so much.

And of course when Sam found out, that sucked worse.

“You took a picture of me with your phone last night,” Sam accuses immediately, “while you thought I was sleeping.”

Dean’s whole body goes rigid with shock. He didn’t realize he was being so obvious when he did that. Sam had just looked so peaceful. He’d been smiling a little in his sleep and Dean just wanted to capture that because...

Because Sam’s beautiful and Dean wanted a picture he could pull out and stare at while he...

“I did not!”

Sam scoffs. “Yes, you did. I can’t believe you’re denying it! Seriously, Dean, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing! Shut up! I did not snap a picture of you while you were sleeping, Sam. That’s...creepy!”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Well, I wouldn’t have said creepy. Just weird, is all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean snaps.

Sam shifts on the bench, rolls his eyes. “It’s not like it’s the first time,” he mutters.

“What? I never!”

Sam scowls. “I don’t know why you keep denying it, Dean. I could show you. You’ve taken dozens of pictures of me when you thought I was asleep. Sometimes, I actually was sleeping. It’s some kind of game with you, like you need to prove that I’m not always one-hundred-percent alert or something.”

Dean thinks about that for a second. “Wait. You’ve looked at the pictures on my phone?”

“Dude, you leave it lying around all the time.”

“So?” Dean’s horrified. “That doesn’t give you the right to look at it!”

“Then you should keep it locked.” Sam smirks, the bitch.

“Ever heard of a little thing called privacy, Sam?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “With our lives? Sure, Dean. I’ll just wait till you get out of the shower next time I need to check the time.” He shakes his head. “It’s not like there’s anything on there that I haven’t already seen, anyway. Your porn is so predictable.”

Dean bristles. “You leave my porn alone! It’s got nothing to do with you!” Except...

Sam shrugs. “Like I said. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Dean makes a mental note to lock his phone as soon as they pull into the motel parking lot.

But of course he forgets. Later, he thinks Sam set him up. He thinks Sam planned the whole thing. It just doesn’t make sense any other way than the way things go down.

He’s coming out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, and Sam’s standing in the middle of the floor with Dean’s phone in his hand, obviously scrolling through the camera roll.

Dean’s mouth drops open. “What the hell? Give me that!”

He takes a flying leap at his brother, but his timing is off, or Sam’s is, he’s not too sure later. As Dean grabs for the phone, Sam swerves to hold it out of reach with his freakishly long arm and promptly loses his balance. He trips over the closest bed and falls onto it at an angle, pulling Dean down on top of him. Dean scrambles up Sam’s long body, grabs Sam’s stupidly long arm, and straddles him to keep him from wiggling away as he snatches the phone out of Sam’s hand.

But Sam’s not giving up that easily. He bucks up, knocking Dean off, then rolls on top of him. Sam’s big hands close around Dean’s wrists, Sam’s weight holds him down, and Dean finds himself pinned to the bed, chest heaving with exertion.

As he glares up at Sam, Dean realizes he’s naked, the towel having fallen to the ground in the scuffle. He struggles to free himself and Sam grinds down, yanking the phone out of Dean’s grasp with a triumphant expression. The friction makes Dean’s dick harden, although Sam’s too occupied with scrolling through his phone so he doesn’t seem to notice.

“There,” Sam declares, holding out the phone with the offending photo on full display. “See?”

He sits back, proud of himself for proving his point, and Dean can see the exact moment he feels Dean’s erection, pressing into the crack of his ass.

“Get off ‘o me!” Dean bucks up, trying to dislodge his brother but only succeeding in creating more friction for his dick. He throws his head back and moans because it’s the hottest thing ever, being naked and held down by a gorgeous, fully-clothed giant who also happens to be the love of his life.

“Oh, no way,” Sam breathes, somehow less shocked than he should be. “You’re seriously getting off on this?”

He wiggles his ass down over Dean’s dick, deliberately grinding this time, and Dean gasps.

“Shut up, bitch!” he manages to croak before Sam’s mouth crushes down over his, shutting him up.

Sam kisses like a starving man, all tongue and teeth and desperation. His big hands hold Dean’s head so he can deepen the kiss, tongue plunging into Dean’s mouth, teeth nipping at Dean’s lips. Dean feels devoured. Possessed. He bucks up against Sam’s body, pulls at Sam’s clothes till Sam sits back, breathing hard, holding eye contact with Dean as he yanks his shirts off over his head, then dives back in. Dean’s hands scramble across the smooth, heated surface of Sam’s skin as Sam nips and sucks under Dean’s jaw and down his neck. He sucks a line of hickies to Dean’s ear, sucks on his earlobe, licks the shell of Dean’s ear.

Dean wiggles and moans, gets the friction he needs and starts humping, getting a rhythm going. He could come like this.

“No way,” Sam murmurs hotly in his ear. He reaches down between their bodies, grasps Dean’s dick in his big, warm paw and Dean throws his head back and comes hard.

“Damn it, Dean,” Sam murmurs. “You’re so easy!”

“Shut up!” Dean gasps, but his voice sounds high and whiny to his ears, more like a squeak than a growl.

As always after an orgasm, Dean can barely move. His limbs feel heavy and relaxed. He can hardly open his eyes, so he keeps them closed. He hears Sam get up and take the rest of his clothes off, hears the slap of skin as Sam takes himself in hand and jacks off to the sight of Dean’s naked, fucked out body spread out on the bed, sticky with his own come.

When he hears the little tell-tale hitch in Sam’s voice as he comes, feels his warm wet jizz splatter Dean’s belly, he smiles.

“Now who’s got the sleep fetish?” he teases.

“Shut up,” Sam mutters. “You’re not asleep.”

“Damn straight,” Dean croaks. “I’m not sleeping in your wet spot.”

You’re the wet spot,” Sam accuses, and Dean can’t argue with that. He’s got Sam’s come as well as his own all over him, and he knows Sam’s not about to clean him up. He suspects Sam likes him all covered in come, the kinky bastard.

Dean doesn’t mind much. He does love sex, Sam’s not wrong about that. Sex with Sam is new, but it doesn’t surprise him that he likes it.

Finding out Sam’s been thinking about it, though, that’s unexpected. Dean never could’ve imagined that Sam wanted him like that.

Maybe Sam loves him, too.

Dean watches Sam fling himself onto the other bed, admires the long, lean body he’s never really looked at before. As he gets up to grab a washcloth from the bathroom, he can feel Sam’s eyes on him, admiring his backside. It makes Dean’s chest warm.

“So, how long have you...?” He gestures between them from the door of the bathroom as he wipes himself off.

“Wanted to fuck my brother?” Sam finishes.

Dean hides his blush by bending over to retrieve the towel from the floor, aware that Sam’s watching.

“I don’t know, Dean. Probably since high school.”

“Seriously?” Dean wraps the towel around his waist, starts digging in his duffel for boxers and a t-shirt. “How come you never said anything?”

“Oh right.” Sam rolls his eyes. “As if you would’ve let anything happen between us back then.”

Dean thinks about that for a hot minute and nods. “You’re damn right I wouldn’t,” he agrees. “You were a kid. Not that I would’ve blamed you, crushing on this sweet ass.”

Sam shakes his head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Takes one to know one,” Dean reminds him. He finds the boxers and pulls them on. “I guess I should’ve known you were into guys.”

Sam scoffs. “I’m not into guys, Dean.”

“Oh yeah? Coulda fooled me, after what we just did.”

Dean has his t-shirt half over his head when Sam’s on him. He wraps his long arms around Dean from behind, crushing him against his naked chest as his thumbs skim over Dean’s nipples, making him shudder and gasp. He grabs the t-shirt, drops it back on the duffel and buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, breathing deep.

“It’s just you, Dean,” Sam murmurs into his ear. His body radiates heat. It seeps into Dean’s bones, makes his blood pound. “I’m just into you.

“Okay.” Dean closes his eyes, relaxes back against Sam’s body as his hands move over Dean’s chest, thumbing his nipples again as he nibbles on Dean’s ear and neck. When his hands travel down his belly, then cup Dean’s still-sensitive dick through his boxers, Dean Jr. perks right up. It’s been a while since he’s gone two rounds in the same night, but he’s pretty sure he’s up for it tonight.

Sam takes his time, spreads Dean out on the bed and leaves scorching kisses down his chest to his belly. He gives Dean’s nipples plenty of attention, and Dean has to ask, “How did you know?”

Sam chuckles, low and dark. “There’s nothing I don’t know about you, Dean. I’ve been watching you, studying you, all my life, remember?”

“Pretty sure you never watched me doing this,” Dean gasps, then realizes his mistake.

“Just because you thought I was asleep, didn’t mean I was.”

Somehow the thought of being spied on, of Sammy getting an eyeful through a crack in the door or from the other bed while Dean assumed he was sleeping, just pushes Dean’s buttons. He’s always been a bit of an exhibitionist.

When Sam pulls his boxers down and takes Dean’s straining dick into his mouth, Dean manages not to come like a teenager again. Sam’s warm, wet mouth and talented tongue make Dean doubt this is his only rodeo, but he doesn’t ask again. He slides his hands through Sam’s hair and watches, squeezing his eyes shut when the sight becomes too much, when Sam lifts his eyes to Dean’s.

“Come here,” Dean begs, and Sam obliges, stretching himself out beside Dean on the bed. He takes both their dicks in one of his big hands and strokes them together as Dean explores every angle and plane of Sam’s face with the tips of his fingers. He dips them into the creases of Sam’s dimples, tries to keep his eyes on Sam’s as his orgasm hits him. Sam follows him over the edge, and they lie together, sticky and content, until Dean falls asleep.

He wakes up to find Sam cleaning him off with a warm washcloth. He pretends to be asleep as Sam climbs into the bed behind him and spoons him possessively.

“I know you’re awake,” Sam says into his ear. “And I gotta say one thing about this, okay? Then we’ll leave it.”

He’s about to tell me this is a mistake, Dean thinks. None of it means anything. We were just letting off a little steam. Can’t happen again.

“If we’re gonna do this, I want exclusive rights,” Sam says. “You and me, together together. No going off to a bar to pick up chicks anymore.”

Dean shivers. “Okay.”

“Promise? ‘Cuz I’m done with waiting for you to figure this out. I’m done with watching you bring girls home and pretend you’re something you’re not.”

Dean’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Mine.” Sam hugs him, slips a leg between Dean’s, and bites his earlobe. “Say it.”

Dean shivers again. “Jesus, Sammy, why you gotta be so jealous?”

“Because I’ve been sharing you for years, Dean, and I’m done. So say it.”

Yours, little brother, Dean thinks but can’t quite say. I’ve always been yours. But his lifelong fear of Sam’s rejection makes him keep his mouth shut. He’s terrified that Sam doesn’t really mean it, that Sam doesn’t really love him.

“Dean...” Sam bites his ear again in warning.

“Ow! Okay! Okay! I’m yours! No more girls. Got it. Are we done yet?”

Sam licks Dean’s stinging earlobe, hugs him with his tree-trunk-thick arm, and hums approvingly.

“Yeah.” Dean can feel Sam smiling against his skin. “Merry Christmas, big brother.”



fin
Tags: angst, bottom!dean, first time, humor, pov dean, rating: nc-17, somnophilia, spn_j2_xmas
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