Trying to get Sam to help him, to find a non-existing oil leak on the Impala, to distract him from his fears, might not have been the most brilliant idea, Dean has ever come up with.
But he just couldn’t stand it much longer, couldn’t bare to see his brother closing up more and more, doing nothing than sitting around, brooding and feeling miserable about something, which Dean is pretty damn sure is not going to happen.
Sam is not going back to hell. Not as long as Dean’s still alive and breathing.
Right now, they are lying side by side on their backs, pressed closely together on the dusty old blanket, and staring up at the underfloor of the Impala.
Dean is pretty sure that Sam knows, they won’t find any oil leak there, but at least he got his brother out of Bobby’s house. And that’s progress.
Fumbling awkwardly on one of the car’s break hoses, Dean rolls his head and looks over at his nonvocal brother. What he sees nearly breaks his heart. Sam’s staring at nothing in particular, while silent tears find their way from the corners of Sam’s eyes into his hair.
“Sam…” he begins hesitantly, not really sure what to say. They’ve been through this before. Several times.
Sam croaks, his voice breaking: “I just don’t want to be so afraid all the time. I want to feel good every once in a while. I-I just don’t think I’m strong enough.”
There are no words left, that Dean has not said before, and so he just turns around, to face his brother’ side, closing his arms around him, pulling him close.
“I know, Sam” he whispers into Sam’s damp neck, near the collar of his shirt, “I know…”
Sam sniffs a little, takes a deep breath, then slowly turns around to look into his brother’s eyes.
Dean looks back into Sam’s eyes; they are red-rimmed and still overflowing with tears his brother did not have allowed himself to shed for a long time. It hurt’s to see them, now. But even Dean know that it’s a good thing to let go every once in a while.
So he just watches and holds his brother, stroking little circles on his back with one hand.
He still watches as Sam’s gaze wanders between his eyes and his mouth. Back and forth.
It startles Dean for a split second, to feel his brothers wet lips pressed gently against his own. But after that split second of insecurity is over, Dean goes on pure instinct.
He lets his lips go pliant, and kisses Sam back. Soft,intimate glides against forbidden, wet lips.
His brother whimpers, as Dean kisses him back tentatively, pulls him closer and starts to lick at at Dean’s bottom lip.
There might be a thousand and one reasons, Dean should not kiss Sam back. But there is one reason, he why he does: It feels wonderful, heavenly, new but familiar at the same time. It’s Sam. His Sammy.
After a few seconds,Sam’s tongue finds it’s way into Dean’s half-open mouth, and Dean welcomes it with long, slow strokes of his own. He can’t help it, as a low moan find’s it’s way into their kiss. He can’t stop himself. It’s like something finally unfolded, deep inside of him.
The kiss becomes more urgent, more intimate by the second and Dean puts one of his legs between his brother’s, needing some friction against his swelling dick, blood pulsing loudly in his ears, blending everything else out.
He finds Sam hard. A persistant press against the crook of his hip, he rocks slightly, not able to restrain himself.
“Touch me…” Sam whispers after he’d pulled away from the kiss “Please…”
What comes next, happens in a blur: Dean gasps and unbuckles Sam’s belt, pushing his had under his brother’s boxers in one fluid motion.
As his hand makes contact, he can feel Sam’s cock painfully erect, the veins standing out against the velvety skin and hot fluid already covering the head, leaking out of the slit.
“Sam, oh god…” Dean presses out between pants of heavy breathing against searching lips. “You really want this?”
Sam answers with a small nod, catching Dean’s lips again, tasting him deeply again.
Dean feels a little dizzy at this point, his own dick throbbing and pushing against the fly of his jeans. He starts to rock against the crook in Sam’s hip, in small erratic moves.
HIs hand slowly picking up a rhythm, stroking Sam, squeezing around the length, his whole palm covered with precome by now, easing the way.
Suddenly Sam pulls his lips away, burying his face between Dean’s neck and collarbone.
“Faster, please….I need to come. So bad. Didn’t come in days” he rasps hoarsely and hot against his brother’s skin.
Dean does just that. He goes faster, twisting his wrist, stroking and squeezing.
Sam’s panting, whimpering “Yeah, Dean, s-so close…”
Moving his groin against Sam in an erratic movement, Dean can feel his balls go tight, pulling close to his body, feeling himself rush to his own release.
After a few seconds, Sam freezes, groans and spurts long,hot ropes of come over Dean’s palm and wrist, as Dean keeps stroking, pressing himself against Sam.
Shortly after, everything seems to stop, as Dean feels himself coming against the inside of his boxer briefs. It feels so intense, he stops breathing for a few seconds.
Panting and gasping, Sam kisses him again, getting slower and more languid with each glide of their lips.
“Did….did you just come in your pants?” he asks as they both slowly come down from their first shared orgasm.
Dean pulls back to look at his debauched brother and smirks.
The sound of the little chuckle Sam lets out, might be the best sound Dean has heard in weeks.
A fill to this prompt on ficit
Prompt: I want to see Sam afraid to go back to Hell so Dean distracts him by having him help repair the Impala, which turns into sex on the hood.