first time wincest (in HEAVEN!), handjobs, light angst, impala sex, outdoor sex (kind of?), 15x20 coda, pwp, ~1k
A/N: love and thanks to @samshinechester! This one’s for @foreverwincestfest.
Cross-posted to AO3
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No telling how long he stood there, curled around his brother, fingers dug in the shoulder of a canvas coat fifteen years or better out of style. Whole.
Sammy took it in. Looked to be fighting back tears—the sap. Prickle behind Dean’s eyes wasn’t anybody’s business. He watched Sam’s throat, chin stretched towards the sky, long swallows. Watched that fuckin’ hair blowing in the breeze.
He tugged, tucked Sam tight to his side, palmed Sam’s neck, slid up and rustled the soft strands, shot through with gray like the last day Dean had laid eyes on him. Sam leaned into it; Dean scratched at his scalp. Smile widened, dimples deepened. He bit his lip, looked down at Dean. Nostrils flared and his chest quivered.
Dean cracked first. Unbounded, animal triumphant joy bubbled up out of him in mad laughter. Sam, like he had permission, snorted once and exploded. They fell into each other, hysterical. Scrabbling, groping. Coke bottles poured full of Mentos. They quaked together, Sam pawed Dean’s face, pressed their foreheads, seared him with sense memory. Tears spilled and Dean thumbed them away.
Earnest. “I did what you said, Dean—”
“I know, Sammy—”
“—kept my promise.”
“—knew you would.”
When he kissed Sam, he wasn’t even surprised how easy it was, how natural. How Sam’s lips slotted against his, matching puzzle pieces after all their hiding, pining, and denying. Boots crunched road dust as they scuffled towards the car. Fighting through too many layers to get to skin. Sam growled, nipped at Dean’s mouth.
“Easy, tiger.” Dean dragged Sam’s lower lip down with his thumb. “We ain’t gotta rush this. We got time.” He cradled Sam’s jaw, stroked his chin, petted down Sam’s neck. Stubble rasped. Sam’s heart beat, breath steamed. More than alive. “I love you.”
Sam exhaled in a rush. Almost as satisfying as the feather-in-the-wind sensation of saying it, then and there, with forever stretched out in front of them instead of Dean’s life leaking all over a dirty floor.
“God, Dean—”
“You ain’t gotta say anything.”
“Are you—” Sam’s big hands swallowed Dean’s skull. “I—”
Dean kissed him again, was no time for tears. He ran his mouth instead. “I wanna fuck you, Sam.”
He sucked a breath.
As soon as they got someplace private. “Gonna choke you on my dick from behind.”
Sam moaned, smashed their mouths together and pushed his tongue in. Backed Dean up against the bumper. He hung off Sam’s belt loops, grinned around Sam’s lips. Spared a thought for any souls who might pass by there—they weren’t alone anymore, not like the last times. He let Sam kiss him raw before he got to work getting Sam’s fly apart. Low groan buzzed Dean to his toes.
Hard. Sam’s waistband snagged on his cock, and, Seriously. Do we even need clothes in Heaven? Dean wrestled knit cotton, denim and elastic down below Sam’s hips. Belt buckle glinted in the fading sun. He took a double-handful of Sam’s ass and dragged him in. Rubbed on him. Sam melted. Stumbled. Dean ducked behind, looped his arms at Sam’s waist, laid his head against his brother’s spine and breathed him in.
Sam smelled clean, like he used to after a shower, after a run. His chest shrank and expanded. Growling, squirming under Dean and making the hard-on trapped in his jeans ache. Sam spun on him. Opened and shoved a hand down Dean’s pants while he cradled Sam’s neck, towed him in and kissed him. Eyelids. Points of his cheeks. Every mole on his face. Dean leaned back, looked Sam over one more time. Flushed skin, tangled hair. Eyes the color of every sky Dean ever saw. He squeezed Sam’s neck. Winked.
He went back to kissing Sam, all down his jaw, under his ear. Sam’s fist clenched and released in the back of Dean’s shirt. He hooked his other hand around Dean’s dick and grazed it against his.
“Yeah,” Dean rumbled, “get us off together; that’s so hot.”
Sam wrapped them up. Dean nipped, licked, flicked at his earlobe. Sam jerked fast, tight to the point of pain. He breathed in Dean’s hair, grunted soft. Sweat and precome built between them. Sam picked up his pace. “Wanna see you come, Dean, been thinking about this—” He cut off when Dean latched his mouth on Sam’s neck. Nosed his way under Sam’s collar, opened wide and sucked for the mother of all hickeys. Didn’t even know if it would work, but Sam moaned, and that was good enough. Dean’s balls drew up, and he sank into the lightning storm Sam made of his nerves. Sam’s cock slid alongside his. Faster. All the movement Sam’s now. Dean slid his hands inside Sam’s overshirt, got under his tee.
“I love you too,” Sam murmured.
Dean erupted. Knees went out, and he hollered. Vision blanked. Wave after wave, his stomach clenched, thighs shook. Sam held on, held him up.
“…better than I ever…”
Sam didn’t come.
Still twitching, Dean wheeled Sam around and bent him over the hood. Come-slick, Sam’s dick slipped into his hand. Dean stroked quick and brutal, ground his flagging cock between Sam’s cheeks. Sam came roaring, shot all over the paintjob and Dean’s fingers. Dean clung to him, wrung him out. Whispered hot, and perfect, and Sammy. Rode it out with him.
They slumped to the ground.
Sam huffed, caught his breath. Dean watched him and wondered whether they blew like that because this was Heaven, or if this was all Sam. They’d have to conduct experiments, he decided. Gather more data; Sammy loved research. He leaned over and bumped Sam’s shoulder. Sam laid his arm across Dean’s and clasped their hands.
“No more waiting,” Dean said, when his wits came back.
“No more.” Sam nodded. Disbelief still shadowed his eyes.
“There’s a house about,” Dean hooked his thumb over his shoulder, “half a mile or so back that way. Want you to tell me everything, Sammy, and…” Sam squeezed his hand. “I’ve got a lot to tell you too. A lot to make up for.”
“No.” Sam shook his head. “I want a clean slate. A fresh start. I want…”
