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The motel room was dark, just a single strip of moonlight filtering in from between the curtains and the lime green glow of the alarm clock, presenting 3:32 AM. But something woke him and in his sleep-addled mind, Sam gasped into the quiet. He quickly assessed the sleep-warm skin pressing up against his back, heard the familiar hitch of breath, pausing until Sam’s body relaxed.
He knew who it was.
The day had been long, night longer when their father had driven them through three towns before declaring himself in need of a bottle, food, and sleep. He’d even splurged on two rooms, a rarity that Sam and Dean had hardly ever seen. Yet, he could hear his father’s snores coming through the adjacent wall and knew any noise he deemed out of the ordinary would have John up and out of bed, bursting into their room with his pistol loaded and ready, before either Sam or Dean could shout.
Yet, somehow, Dean had managed to slip out of his own bed and wiggle into Sam’s, underneath the covers and pressed up against Sam’s back. Dean’s skin was cooler from the night air, and it made Sam’s feel like it was on fire. He snuggled back against his brother, stopping when Dean leaned in, his chest pressing down on Sam’s back, pushing him into the mattress.
Dean’s breath was hot as it swept over the shell of Sam’s ear and his voice was low, sleep-deep, as he said, “Quiet.”
Sam shivered but complied, holding his breath in anticipation. It had been far too long since he’d had any true moment of peace with his brother, and peace was the only way to describe it. There were no monsters, no fighting. No arguing with John or shoved one person too many in the Impala, long legs scrunched against the footwells with fingers crossed that the next town would be the next stop.
And Sam ached for it, he ached for the moments where it was just he and Dean. Silent touches, grabbing weapons from the Impala, hard and fast kisses passed up in alleys or closets during hunts. Anything away from John’s prying, disapproving glances and anything that was just for them.
Again, Dean reminded him, “Quiet,” and Sam exhaled as Dean shifted back. His brother’s left leg was a comfortable weight stretching over the back of Sam’s thighs, his right leg was still pressed up close to Sam, and he gasped when he felt Dean’s hardness pressing against him.
“Dean,” Sam gasped and Dean hushed, making Sam clench his teeth, holding back another gasp as Dean’s fingertips found the base of his spine.
“You have to be quiet, Sammy,” Dean whispered again, lips brushing the back of Sam’s head. “If you can’t be quiet, I’ll have to go-”
“Stay,” Sam whispered, his voice just barely heard over the sound of their breath. He felt his brother smile into his hair and his eyes squeezed tightly as Dean’s fingernails scratched over the swell of his ass. Sam’s skin tingled, goose pimples rising up to sing out their praise. He never felt as good as when Dean was touching him.
“Oh, Sammy,” Dean whispered and Sam held his breath once more, needing to hear every single word Dean washed over him, “do you know what I would do to you if we were truly alone?”
Sam shook his head, a million thoughts suddenly curating their way through his brain, but he knew nothing he could come up with would be as good as what Dean had in mind. Featherlight, Dean’s fingers moved back up Sam’s spine, then back down again. His lips were soft and warm against the back of Sam’s neck.
“First,” he whispered into Sam’s skin, sliding his palm over Sam’s side, “I’d kiss you breathless. Press you up against the wall, pull your bottom lip between my teeth… Show you who you belong to. Do you belong to me, Sammy?”
Sam nodded against the pillow, Dean’s mouth curving into a smile once more against his neck. “You are,” he agreed, tongue clicking over his teeth and sending a shot down Sam’s spine. “Then, I’d get you onto a bed just like this, naked and hot and wanting. I’d open you up with my tongue, get you nice and,” Dean paused and his tongue darted out, sweeping over the back of Sam’s shoulders, “wet.”
Sam swallowed hard, his cock throbbing where it was trapped beneath him against the mattress. He wanted to move, but Dean’s leg held him in place, exactly where his big brother wanted him.
“I love kissing you all over. But other than your pretty pink mouth, my favorite is there. Your hole is so pretty when it’s pink and sloppy, always begging for me, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Sam exhaled, his fingers gripping the pillow beneath his head tight. “Always.”
“I wouldn’t even need lube, would I, Sammy? You’d be so wet for me, dripping, just begging for my fingers… and they’d slide… right… in…” Dean moved his fingers down the cleft of Sam’s ass, then back up, and Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to roll his hips down or rise up. His cock didn’t know either, all it wanted was more, more, more, twitching against the mattress with every word Dean spoke.
“You always take me so good, baby boy,” Dean purred against his ear. “You fit me like a glove, Sammy. Just made for me, weren’t you?”
“Dean-”
“Quiet,” Dean whispered again, his teeth scraping against Sam’s skin, his fingers moving back up to grip Sam’s hip. “But you wouldn’t be, would you? I can hear you now, the groan you let out when I press inside you, inch by inch, your greedy hole swallowing me up.”
Sam swallowed hard, letting go of the pillow to hold on to the mattress instead. Dean simply moved closer, his hips making small circles against Sam’s backside, the tip of his cock leaving wet smears as it slid over Sam’s skin.
“And you feel so good, Sammy. So hot and tight… And the noises you make…” Dean groaned then, the sound making Sam’s entire body sing. Low and guttural, going straight to Sam’s groin. “You’d beg me, ‘Please, Dean, please. Harder, fuck, right there. Fuck me so good, Dean, no one makes me feel the way you do’. But I wouldn’t,” Dean’s voice softened, his fingers returning to their path up Sam’s spine. “No, I would take my time, fuck you slow and deep, pin you down just like this…”
Dean’s hips rolled against him, slow and deliberate, and if Sam closed his eyes he could almost taste it. His hole clenched around nothing, needing Dean to complete him. He matched Dean’s movement, dragging his cock up and down the mattress, Dean’s hands a steady presence at his hips to make sure Sam didn’t rush this.
Sam could kill him as much as he could kiss him. He couldn’t feel anything other than the pressure of Dean against his back, the heat of his breath, and Sam’s own hard cock, begging for release beneath him.
“You’re so perfect like this,” Dean whispered and Sam opened his eyes, watching as Dean’s hand trailed down Sam’s arm, sliding over his hand still clenched in the sheets, his own fingers sliding in between Sam’s and holding on just as tight. Their hands were illuminated by the moon, like two pieces of the same puzzle.
“Baby,” Dean said softly, drawing Sam’s attention back. He pressed Sam harder into the mattress, the friction becoming too much. Sam gasped as Dean’s hand tightened, his tongue moving over Sam’s throat seconds before his teeth. “Come for me, baby boy. You know you want to.”
Beneath him, Dean’s arm snaked under his chest, palm smoothing up over Sam’s nipple and sending a new sensation over his body. He felt Dean’s cock throbbing where it was pressed against his ass, and suddenly he was tumbling over the edge.
Dean was quick, hand moving from Sam’s chest to close over Sam’s mouth, holding on tight as Sam cried out into his hand.
“Shit,” Dean whispered against his ear again, his brother’s hips losing their rhythm as he fucked against Sam’s backside. “Fuck!”
Dean’s fingers tightened once more and Sam could heard his muffled groan, muffled against the side of Sam’s throat, his release warm and wet against Sam’s skin, dripping down his ass. When Dean released him, he did so slowly, his lips pressing softly against Sam’s skin, over each mark from Dean’s fingers or teeth.
Then, he was gone. Sam exhaled into the dark, warm and sated until the come on his ass started to cool. He heard the bathroom sink and then Dean was back with a warm towel wiping over his back. Sam’s skin still tingled from Dean’s against his and when Dean was finished cleaning up his back, he rolled over to accept the towel to wipe himself and the mattress. Then, finally, Dean leaned in and kissed him, soft and slow. Sam smiled against his brother’s mouth and then Dean pulled back, his smile slightly sad in the moonlight as he slid off the bed to return to his.
“Dean,” Sam said, voice a little too loud as John’s snoring stopped for a moment, making both of them freeze. When the rumbling returned, he lowered his voice, lifting a hand to reach out as he said, “Stay?”
Dean’s eyes flicked over to the door, no doubt making sure it was locked, despite them both checking before they’d gotten into bed. He nodded and took the step back over, sliding underneath their covers and taking his spot on the left side of the bed.
Sam slid in closer, his leg mirroring Dean’s from earlier, resting over the top of his brother’s thighs, his head coming to rest on Dean’s chest. Dean laid his arm over Sam’s shoulder, holding him close, and as Sam opened his mouth to speak, Dean’s fingers tightened on his shoulder.
“Quiet,” Dean whispered instead, and Sam nodded, his words lost on his tongue as he closed his eyes.