Desire
Summary: Sam finds a prostitute that can shapeshift to take Dean's form. Loosely based on @wincestdailyheadcanons‘s Headcanon #32 Part of my Unrequited Wincest series
Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Sam Winchester, Original Shapeshifter Character, Dean Winchester Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester Word Count: 2000 AO3: Link
Excerpt:
Sam rests a hand on Dean’s chest, curls his hand into a fist around the soft fabric of Dean’s shirt, searches Dean’s eyes. Not Dean’s eyes, he thinks but he pushes away the thought. They’re enough like Dean’s eyes. The same emerald green. The same depth. The same softness, as they focus on Sam. He takes a deep breath to lose himself to this again, and finally his head’s cleared enough to think this is real, for a moment.
It’s just Dean in front of him now, familiar but still so beautiful that he takes Sam’s breath away.
Full Fic:
It had taken a while to find this person. He’d heard a rumor, and it took a lot of asking around to get the details he needed. And it had taken longer to find a hunt close enough for Sam to be able to make an excuse about going to see a girl so he could meet up with them late at night, without raising Dean’s suspicion.
Sam meets her at a nice hotel with a king-size bed and slightly dimmed, romantic lighting—her choice.
She’s wearing a black dress and knee-high black boots, her curly hair loose around her shoulders. Classy, yet suggestive. The two of them sit on the room’s crisp, white couch to work out terms.
“So,” she says after she finishes counting the cash he gave her. “Who will it be?”
Sam pulls a photo out of his wallet. Dean, grinning at the camera, his green eyes sparkling. And something of Dean’s, too, like she’d asked for over the phone—a small amulet Sam had dug out from Dean’s bag. Sam passes them to the woman.
“Hm. And how do you want me to play it? Sweet and romantic? Rough? Kinky?”
Sam swallows. This is so fucked up. Why is he doing this? He considers standing up and walking out, right now, but he knows he’ll regret it if he does. This is a rare opportunity. “Romantic, I guess,” he finally says. “But we can play it by ear.”
“Sure,” she says. She stands up and grabs the small suitcase she’d brought along. “I’ll be just a moment.” She disappears into the bathroom and he hears the shower turn on.
Sam bounces his leg while he waits, feeling nervous. His desperation is pathetic, but this past year of working with Dean… Sam’s not sure he can take it much longer. He had to do something.
Finally the shower shuts off. A minute later the bathroom door opens, and Dean steps out. Black t-shirt, jeans, bare feet. His hair is slightly damp and untextured from his shower. Dean smiles at him, a soft, warm smile that makes Sam’s breath catch. “Hey, little brother.”
“Hey,” Sam says softly, standing up. He approaches Dean. He doesn’t have to hold back this time, he thinks, he can do what he wants to—needs to—do.
He’d thought about a moment like this a thousand times. What would he say, when he confessed to Dean? What would he do? How would Dean react?
He rests a hand on Dean’s chest, curls his hand into a fist around the soft fabric of Dean’s shirt, searches Dean’s eyes. Not Dean’s eyes, he thinks but he pushes away the thought. They’re enough like Dean’s eyes. The same emerald green. The same depth. The same softness, as they focus on Sam. He takes a deep breath to lose himself to this again, and finally his head’s cleared enough to think this is real, for a moment.
It’s just Dean in front of him now, familiar but still so beautiful that he takes Sam’s breath away.
“Dean…” He feels tears prickle at the back of his eyes as he finally, finally says what he’s been holding back for so long. “I’m in love with you. So, so in love with you. God. I want you so much.”
The corner of Dean’s mouth turns up. “Come on, man. Don’t get all sappy on me.”
Sam pulls him in and kisses him, the way he’s wanted to for years, desperate and hungry and hard. Dean matches the intensity, sliding his tongue against Sam’s lips, pushing into Sam’s mouth, claiming him. His lips are soft against Sam’s, his taste minty, and Sam’s surprised that up close he even smells like Dean. Let that go, Sam tells himself. He needs to get caught up in this, or it won’t be worth it.
Dean unbuttons Sam’s flannel while they kiss, pushes it off his shoulders.
Dean pulls away, his lips still close to Sam’s. “Sammy. Bed. Now.”
Sam laughs softly. “Sure.” Bossy big brother taking the lead. It’s reassuring.
Sam climbs onto the bed and lies back. Dean crawls over him, resting his hands on either side of Sam’s head and bending down to kiss Sam again.
Dean pulls away and sits back for a moment.“Come on,” he murmurs. “I want to see you.”
Sam pulls off his t-shirt, climbs out of his pants and boxers, tosses all of it over the side of the bed. Dean looks him over. “Beautiful,” he whispers, running a hand down Sam’s chest. “I’ve been missing out, huh?” he says, cracking a smile, and Sam’s heart flutters.
“You have me now,” Sam says.
“Yeah, I do,” Dean says.
“I want to see you too,” Sam says, but he takes the lead this time, pulling off Dean’s shirt, unbuttoning Dean’s pants. Dean finishes undressing in front of Sam and, as Sam looks at him, it’s suddenly hard to breath. Does every part of this Dean look like the real deal? No—don’t think about that. This isn’t like Dean, this is Dean.
Dean bends down, slides a tongue up Sam’s abdomen, up to his nipple. He swirls his tongue around it and Sam gasps. Dean’s hand finds Sam’s dick. He jerks it slowly, his grip soft and just light enough that Sam shivers.
“You like that?” Dean says, his voice low.
“Yes,” Sam says.
Dean runs his tongue up a little further, sucks on Sam’s skin by his collarbone. Dean strokes a thumb around the tip, and Sam stifles a moan. “It’s okay, baby brother,” Dean says. “You can let it out.”
His hand runs down Sam’s cock, and this time Sam lets himself moan “Dean” as his hands grasp helplessly at Dean’s back while Dean pleasures him, kisses him, marks him.
Dean pauses to look at Sam through his eyelashes.
“Do you want to be inside me, Sammy?” Dean asks, and then bites his lip, already pink and tender from the kissing.
Sam pauses. He’s thought about this, the first time, for so, so long and he knows exactly what he wants. But he’s always wondered what Dean would prefer, if this situation ever happened. How is the real Dean in bed? Would he want to top or bottom? Would he act like the shifter is now?
Don’t think about that, Sam tells himself, and out loud he whispers, “Yes.”
Dean smiles and reaches over to a small bag on the nightstand, pulls out a condom and some lube. He leans back to straddle Sam’s legs and keeps his eyes fixed on Sam’s while he opens the condom, unrolls it down over Sam’s length.
Sam licks his lips. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been this turned on before. All the times he’s fantasized, actualized in front of him now. The long lashes over Dean’s fiery eyes, filled with lust. His smooth chest, his soft stomach. His impish grin as he squirts some lube into his hand, rubs it onto Sam’s dick.
Sam can’t stand it anymore. He rolls them both over so Dean is underneath him, looking up at him.
Dean raises his eyebrows. “Control freak.”
“You like it,” Sam says, and he’s kissing Dean again before Dean can dispute it. He slips one finger into Dean, two, to open him up.
Dean breaks away for a moment. “Quit teasing,” he murmurs. “Come on. Fuck me.”
“You want me that bad, huh?”
“Always have,” Dean says, and Sam feels a thrill go through him before he remembers but he doesn’t.
“Something wrong, Sammy?” Dean asks, a hand coming up to stroke Sam’s cheek.
“Huh? Oh. No, sorry. I was just… Thinking.”
“Well, don’t,” Dean says. He smiles softly at Sam. “Relax, okay? Let it go. Whatever you’re thinking about.”
“Okay,” Sam says, and he’s only able to offer up a wavering smile. He pulls back just enough to line himself up with Dean’s hole. Dean tilts his hips to make it easier for Sam, and Sam slides in.
Dean lets out a long exhale, his fingers digging into the back of Sam’s thighs, pulling him closer. Dean is warm and tight and as Sam starts to rock into Dean, he looks down at his brother’s face. Dean’s eyes are squeezed shut, his head pressed back into the pillow, his mouth wet and open as he breathes hard.
Sam feels an unexpected pang of jealousy. Dozens of girls got to see Dean like this, hot and worked up and turned on and so, so beautiful, and Sam never had, never would, see Dean—the real Dean—like that, even though Sam had been with Dean his entire life and those girls had only been in it for a night.
Sam only notices that he’s stopped moving completely when he feels Dean run a hand down his cheek. “Hey. Be here,” he says. “Be with me.” His voice is soft, and Sam closes his eyes at the words, at the feel of Dean’s warm fingers on his face, and Dean’s words work, a little bit. Sam feels like he’s a little bit outside of himself while he starts to move against Dean again, like this is a little unreal, but he manages to clear his mind enough to lose himself in the pleasure, the bliss of having Dean beneath him, kissing him, listening to him moan out Sam’s name when he comes. Hearing his name on Dean’s lips pushes Sam over the edge too, and he comes a second later.
Sam pulls out and lies down next to Dean, the only sound in the room coming from both of them breathing hard.
Sam rolls onto his side to look at Dean. Coming down from his orgasm-high, it feels even more clear that this Dean isn’t Dean, that this sex didn’t mean anything, that in a few hours, things would go back to how they were—Sam hiding his feelings from Dean, because he wants something from Dean that Dean could never give.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” Sam asks softly. It still doesn’t feel right, but spending the night wrapped in the arms of not-Dean sounds so much more appealing than spending the night in the same room as but still distant from the real Dean, sleeplessly staring at the ceiling and feeling guilty and alone.
“Yeah, baby,” Dean says. He gives Sam a light kiss. “Me and the room are yours until morning. We can go again, if you want.” The words of an escort to a john, not from a man to his lover.
Still, Sam says, “Yeah, I’d like that.”
———
Sam lets himself back into the motel room the next morning. He’s still in yesterday’s clothes, but he’s cleaned up and looking like his normal self. He wishes he felt like his normal self, too, not filled with this guilt and shame from spending half the night and a good part of the morning fucking a shifter that looked like his brother.
Dean is up and showered and dressed and drinking coffee.
“Ha, I know that look. The walk of shame,” Dean says to Sam. “How was she?”
“Don’t be gross, Dean,” Sam says, as he walks to his bag to get a fresh change of clothes, but the real disgust he’s feeling is with himself. He can’t even bring himself to look at Dean—this Dean, the real Dean.
“I’m just glad you’re getting yourself out there again,” Dean says. “It’s been a long time for you, man. I worry about you sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Sam says, turning away to hide the look on his face. If Dean knew why it had been so long, he’d have something else to say. “Yeah, I worry about me sometimes, too.”
