thinking…
“i miss what you’d do to me”
when sammy, his baby brother, said that to him, dean felt bile crawl up his throat. god no.
dean knew stealing and drinking dads good stuff was bad. even worse when sam asked for some. but the kid was 15. either dean gave him some or sam would get some on his own from a shady source.
so dean indulged.
he wasn’t expecting a slap in the face from memories of two years ago. of his first solo hunt. god, did sam know how to ruin a good mood.
sam stays silent, waiting for his older brother to say something. anything. and when dean finally speaks, he roughly spits out, “i got better.”
dean didn’t say how he still craved sam’s soft skin under his rough calloused hands, both carnally and spiritually. because he couldn’t.
dad was onto him. still is. and dean needs to get his head on straight before he gets sam taken away from him for good.
“okay.” sam responds, not believing. “i just thought i’d let you know.”
dean wished sam hadn’t said anything. ‘cause temptation’s a bitch and sam’s lips are looking hella inviting.
dad won’t be back for another two days. and worse comes to worse, he’ll blame it on the alcohol.
mind made up he caves, “c’mere, baby boy.” and sam comes easy. he straddles deans lap— he’s getting too big to do that but dean won’t say— and dean spills his heart out to sam.
tells him how much he missed this too with every kiss, thrust, and bite.
*
inspired by misuse oh by ethel cain
weecest…save me
weecest
save me weecest