Word Count: 2,300
Warnings: Sibling incest, PWP, barebacking, top!Dean, starts out non-con because somnophilia
Summary: It started about a week after they moved into the bunker.
A/N: Written for smpc.
It started about a week after they moved into the bunker.
At first, Sam figured he was dreaming. A good dream, the kind that ended with an explosion of pleasure that shook his body from head to toe and left him boneless and sleepy afterwards.
And, as usual, it was Dean's body, Dean's voice, that was causing every nerve-ending to tingle. Dean was the source of everything good in Sam's life, so it never surprised him when Dean turned him on. It happened all the time, had done since he was a horny teenager. Now, more than fifteen years after his first wet-dream featuring his brother, Sam was resigned to a lifetime of unrequited sexual pining.
It wasn't so bad, really. He had Dean, in every other possible way, and this one little part of him wasn't anywhere near the most important. Plus, there had been times in the past when Sam was fairly certain Dean felt the same way, although his stubborn moral compass would probably never allow him to act on those feelings. Which is why it surprised Sam – well, shocked him, really – when he woke up with Dean in his bed, naked, rutting against Sam's ass as he ran his calloused hands over Sam's body.
"Dean?" Sam turned toward his brother, rolling onto his back in the darkened bedroom. He blinked awake to find Dean leaning over him, smiling a little, eyes shining in the dim light from the hall.
"Shhh," Dean whispered as he pressed his fingers against Sam's lips. He dipped his head and kissed Sam's bare shoulder, rutting leisurely against Sam's hip as he ran his hand over Sam's chest, gently pinching a peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Apparently, Dean had been humping him for a few minutes, having pushed the sheet aside as well as Sam's clothing, which was a little unnerving, although oddly arousing at the same time. Sam supposed he shouldn't be turned on by the idea of Dean caressing him in his sleep, not to mention undressing him and bad-touching him when he wasn't even awake to enjoy it, but Sam's dick clearly didn't agree. And when Dean slipped his hand behind Sam's head, tangled his fingers in Sam's hair and leaned down to kiss him, Sam was more than a little okay with the proceedings.
The kiss was long and slow and sweet, Dean's lips every bit as luscious and warm as Sam had always known they would be. Dean lay along Sam's side, almost on top of him, one leg sliding between Sam's so he could fit his cock into the groove of Sam's hip. Sam couldn't help moaning as Dean ground into him, his own erection finding friction against Dean's belly as he arched up against his brother's body. Sam slid his hand over Dean's smooth skin, down his back to his ass, tearing his mouth away with a gasp as Dean ground harder against him, picking up the pace as Sam's fingers slipped into his crack and brushed over his hole. Dean kneaded the muscles of Sam's neck as his mouth worked at the underside of Sam's jaw, making Sam cry out brokenly.
"Come for me, Sammy."
Dean's command, breathed directly into Sam's ear, was timed perfectly with his hand closing around Sam's swollen dick, and it only took a couple of quick jerks before Sam's body seized up and white sparks blurred his vision. Dean lifted his head and gazed down at Sam's face as he pumped his orgasm out of him, then lowered his lips to Sam's again as he wrung out the last drops. In the warm afterglow, Dean smeared his fingers in the warm mess on Sam's belly, and when Dean pulled his mouth away so he could suck on his fingers, his eyes locked with Sam's. Sam felt a last shivery tremor of arousal roll up from his toes to his chest, spreading deep and warm under his skin wherever he and Dean were pressed together.
"Gonna fuck you now, beautiful boy," Dean announced, still watching Sam's face, maybe for some kind of reaction, maybe just to be sure Sam was really on board with it.
Sam was definitely on board with it.
"Okay," Sam nodded, almost whispering for fear of spooking Dean into taking it back.
"You got something – "
Sam nodded again, reached toward the bedside table where he kept a bottle of lube. Not that Sam was hopeful or anything, but opening himself for Dean had been part of his fantasy life for years, and after all this time Sam was pretty sure Dean knew it. You didn't share your living and sleeping space with another person for almost thirty years and not have them find out your most intimate secrets, no matter how careful you were. And sometimes Sam hadn't been so careful; maybe sometimes he'd even been deliberately provocative.
And Dean knew it, sometimes teased him about it, usually pretended to ignore it. Until now.
Sam watched in amazement as Dean knelt on the bed between Sam's legs, smearing the lube on his fingers along with more of Sam's cum before pushing Sam right leg back with his other hand. Sam was already loose and relaxed from his orgasm, and when Dean's clever fingers teased at his hole, he could feel how little his body resisted. Dean pushed one finger carefully inside, exploring, watching Sam's face the whole time, and Sam couldn't help bearing down a little. It was incredible to him that this was finally happening, and as Dean added a second finger alongside the first Sam felt tears smarting the edges of his eyes, rolling down his cheeks unbidden.
"Sam?" Dean immediately pulled out, leaving Sam empty and panting. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Sam gasped. "Just a little emotional, is all. Don't stop."
Dean hesitated, like he was on the fence whether to say something snarky or just go with the fact that his brother really did cry during sex, something he'd probably always suspected anyway. Then he leaned down, licked a long, wet stripe up Sam's belly, obviously tasting more spunk as he pushed his fingers back into Sam's loosening hole. When he reached Sam's nipple, Dean latched on, sucking and worrying the tender nub with his teeth as he worked Sam's hole with his fingers, pumping and scissoring until Sam was loose and open, shivering with sensation. When Dean pulled his fingers free and sat up, Sam pulled his legs back, opening himself as wide as he could, watching as Dean knelt between his thighs and slicked up his dick, watching Dean's half-lidded gaze roam up and down Sam's body, obviously admiring the view.
"Always wanted you like this, Sam, always," Dean breathed, his voice a little choked and shaky. He leaned forward, positioning his cock carefully at Sam's entrance with one hand, propping himself up on the other arm next to Sam's chest. "You ready?"
"Been ready for fifteen years," Sam gasped, his own voice sounding shaky to his ears.
Dean gave a little nod, his eyes glistening as he smiled, and Sam could see his teeth shining white in the semi-darkness. Then he lowered himself over Sam, touching just the tip of his dick to Sam's waiting hole. Sam arched up a little, and the damn thing slipped inside, so easily it was almost like Sam's body had been prepared for this all along, finally welcoming Dean home where he belonged.
"Aw, Jesus fuck, Sam," Dean gasped as he bottomed out with only the slightest burn. "So tight." He leaned down over Sam's chest so he could reach his mouth, kissed him long and hard and dirty, making Sam moan. Sam arched up, slid his hands down Dean's back, found the curve of his ass as Dean pumped his hips, shallowly at first, then with deeper thrusts when Sam cried out, threw his head back as Dean's dick hit the place inside Sam that caused every nerve-ending in his spine to sizzle and freeze at the same time.
"You like that?" Dean hissed, doing it again, punching another cry from Sam's throat. Sam felt tears sliding down his cheeks again, felt almost weightless as Dean thrust, hitting his prostate over and over, turning Sam's body into a boneless, floating mass of shivery sensation, barely conscious. He could feel Dean mouthing at his upturned throat, sucking and kissing and biting at his jaw, the rub of Dean's stubble against his own almost too much, overloading his senses.
Sam's orgasm hit him like a train wreck, making him black out momentarily; he was only vaguely aware of Dean pumping furiously as his own orgasm overwhelmed him, and Sam managed to open his eyes so he could watch, so he could see Dean's beautiful face all clenched and still, eyes open just a slit, unseeing, mouth slightly open as well, those soft red lips slick with Sam's spit. Sam watched as Dean came down from his orgiastic high, as he closed his eyes and swallowed, licked his lips and finally noticed Sam watching him. He grinned lazily, and Sam smiled back, hoping against hope that Dean would just stay now, let them sleep together.
"Well, I guess we've answered that question," Dean rumbled sleepily.
"Yeah, I guess so," Sam agreed, so relaxed he could barely move. He was sore in all the right places, jaw still tingling faintly where Dean had bitten him. Dean's arms and shoulders would have bruises where Sam had clutched him, Sam was fairly certain of that.
Dean gave a short nod, shifted back with a hiss as his oversensitive dick slid free of Sam's body. He reached down for the sheet, pulled it up to Sam's chest, then snuggled up along Sam's side, hand over Sam's heart, head on his chest. He fit one of his legs between Sam's so that Sam had no choice but to slip his arm around Dean, stroke his shoulder with his thumb. They lay quietly for a full minute, relaxed and content, and Sam almost let it go, but he couldn't quite shake the fear that this was all some elaborate dream, that he would wake up in the morning and find it had never happened.
Because when did something this good ever happen?
Sam raised his free hand, stroked Dean's cheek, tracing the angular cut of his jaw softly, memorizing the feel of his brother in his arms. Just in case.
Dean shifted a little under Sam's touch, turned his face into Sam's chest, pressed his lips to his pec. "What is it, Sam?" he rumbled against Sam's skin. "Come on. I can hear you thinking."
Sam huffed out a breath, thumb tracing down over Dean's collarbone, his shoulder. "Just – why now, Dean? After all these years of waiting and – and wanting – I'd pretty much given up. And I was fine with that. Really okay with it – "
"Don't like sleeping alone," Dean mumbled, lips moving against Sam's skin. "Never did. It's too quiet. Can't sleep."
"But you were all excited about having your own room," Sam frowned, and Dean shook his head.
"Haven't had my own room since I was four years old," he said. "Always shared. With you, with Dad, then with you again. Hardly ever a night when somebody else wasn't in the room. Even in Purgatory. Even when you were in Hell. But here? Haven't slept in a week."
"But we didn't – you didn't need to do this just so we could share a sleeping space," Sam pushed, still hesitant, still needing Dean to tell him, to explain it to him.
Dean took a deep breath, let it out slow, tracing Sam's nipple idly with his thumb, pinching it a little as it hardened.
"You're not gonna let this go, are you, Sam?" he sighed, raising his head and scooting up so he could look down into Sam's face. "You need me to say it, don't you? You want to hear me tell you that this means something."
"Does it?" Sam insisted, trying not to hold his breath.
"Yeah," Dean quirked an eyebrow, letting one side of his mouth turn up in a smirk. "It means I got sick of waiting for you to grow out of your crush on me. It means now we've got a home for the first time in our fucked-up lives, and we might as well share it. It means I'm nesting, Sam. With you. In every way. Unless you got a problem with that."
Sam shook his head, maybe a little too vigorously. "No," he confirmed, just in case he wasn't being clear enough. "No problem at all. Just surprised, is all."
Dean's smile widened as he snorted out a soft laugh, brushing the back of his hand down Sam's cheek, tangling his fingers in Sam's hair as he leaned down to press his lips to Sam's.
"You like surprises? I think I might just have a few more of those, if you're game," Dean purred against Sam's lips.
And Sam stowed the snappy comeback on the tip of his tongue because his tongue was otherwise occupied, and he was definitely okay with that. Things were obviously better this way, no question.
And if he had to hazard a wild guess, Sam was willing to wager things would be better from here on out. Not perfect, not like this solved all the trust issues of their long, tangled-up relationship, not that it was a guarantee that they would overturn all their old habits overnight.
But Sam had to admit that it was a start. At least he was willing to hope so, and that was something.
It was definitely something.