Sam probably picked this room entirely at random. The only thing that indicates it's occupied is the bag, dumped unceremoniously on the floor inside the door.

"I love what you've done with the place," Dean says.

"It's just a room, Dean."

"It's your own room. Have you ever actually had your own room before?" Dean often forgets, but it occurs to him that Sam likely has had his own room before, and more than once. He should know what to do with the damn thing. "I never had my own room."

Sam shrugs. "So how about we christen the place, then?"

"You wanna get drunk?" Dean wouldn't be opposed, and he wonders if the old boys had a stash of booze here. He'll bet it's the good stuff.

"That's not what I had in mind." Sam reaches for his belt.

Dean stares, just for a second. "Mmm," he says, before he starts stripping.

Yeah, this is pretty new.

It started that night in the cabin. They chose each other, over all other things, over all other people. They loved each other more than they loved anyone else.

One thing led to another. Things happened. Vile, filthy, profane, wonderful things, and suddenly Dean's in a sexual relationship with his brother.

Their last bits of clothing hit the floor, then they're kissing. Sam kisses like he wants to eat Dean alive. Every time, it's all Dean can do to kiss back, instead of just taking it. It's something Dean never knew about his brother before they started this whole thing.

Sam likes to take charge.

Dean likes to let him.

Sam shoves Dean onto the bed. A puff of sixty-year-old dust rises up around him.

"That's disgusting," Dean says. "You didn't think to change the sheets?"

"They're gonna get messy anyway." Sam drops to his knees.

"Oh," Dean says, as a wave of arousal washes over him. "You're gonna fuck me."

"I'm gonna fuck you," Sam says, pushing Dean's knees into his chest and lowering his mouth to Dean's hole. "More than that. I'm gonna fuck you bare."

Oh god. That's right. Their tests came back clean. Tests they took so they could dispense with the condoms, because if it's only them, only each other—and it is—they could do that.

In Dean's fantasies, it was gonna be special. Maybe even candles or some shit. Not here, in this bland room while they breathed in the discarded skin cells of people long dead.

His protest dies in his throat when Sam stabs his tongue into Dean's ass.

Sam's in a hurry. It's the quickest way to open Dean up, loose and wet. It's the quickest way to get Dean begging for it.

Knowing Sam's in a hurry, that he can't wait to get inside Dean with nothing between them, well, that just compounds it. Dean's begging in record time.

"Fuck me," Dean says. "Please, Sammy. I need—"

"Yeah," Sam says, clambering up onto the bed. He lines up his cock, pushes in on spit and precome.

Dean gasps at the friction. He's not used to it. No lube, no condom, holy shit, the way it feels. "Sammy," he moans. "Fuck, Sammy. So good."

Sam stares down at him all wide-eyed and jaw slack. "You feel so fucking good." He pushes a little deeper, slow, shallow thrusts that eventually get him all the way inside.

"Then fucking move," Dean says, impatient. "I need it. Need you to fuck me."

Sam groans, and his hips spasm, jerky, involuntary thrusts that drag his cock over Dean's insides in new and exciting ways. "Fuck, Dean," Sam says. "You've got no idea, you're so fucking tight—"

Dean growls and raises his hips, fucks himself on his brother's cock. He's got his hands behind his knees, pulling himself open. "Oh my god," he says, suddenly realizing. "You're gonna come in me."

"Fuck," Sam says, and he grabs Dean by the upper arms, pulls back and then slams himself back inside. "I'm gonna come in you."

It was Sam's idea. Getting tested, ditching the condoms. He initiated a whole talk about exclusivity, like he thought Dean was still banging other people or something.

That's not Dean's style.

But it was Sam who started it, and Dean's starting to wonder if maybe he's got a kink.

"Come in my ass," Dean says, testing his theory. "Fill me up, I wanna feel it."

Sam grunts and slides his hands up to Dean's shoulders, pulls Dean onto his cock, over and over again. "Yeah," he chokes, hips jerking erratically.

Dean's never seen Sam so aroused. Granted, they haven't exactly branched out much, it's all been pretty vanilla so far, but this, this kinda proves it.

Sammy has a kink.

"Fuck me full of your come," Dean moans. Okay so maybe it's affecting him a little, too. "Give it to me, Sammy. Come on. Want your come in my ass, spilling out, fuck—"

"Fuck," Sam grunts. He slams in hard, and freezes, fingertips pressing bruises into Dean's shoulders. "Fuck."

Sam's cock pulses as he comes, anointing Dean from the inside, coating his walls in come. Dean grabs for his own cock, and he's rock hard and dripping, and he gives himself a stroke and his insides clench up.

Sam moans and starts to pull out, eyes downward, like he wants to see the mess he's made.

"Shove it back in," Dean demands, pulling hard on his cock, reaching down with his free hand because he can't see it, but he wants to feel it, his brother's come leaking out of him when he pushes back inside.

Come oozes out of Dean's stuffed hole when Sam slowly pushes in again. "Jesus," Sam says, staring with an expression of wonder on his face. "That feels... It feels...fuck, Dean."

"Yeah." Dean's hand on his cock is a blur. The fingers of his other hand trace the edge of his puffy, used hole, Sam's cock—semi-erect—sliding slowly in and out, and come spilling out around Dean's fingers. "You could put another load in me," Dean says, slurring his words. "Fuck me again, Sammy. Sam, fuck me again."

He's nuts. Like, he's actually insane if he thinks that even his supernaturally gifted—over-endowed and with muscle he doesn't even have to work hard to maintain—brother can keep it up, but it doesn't stop Dean wanting it, and it doesn't stop him demanding it.

"Don't you fucking dare stop fucking me, Sammy," Dean says, rolling his hips up to meet Sam's renewed thrusts. "Fill me till I'm bursting, Sam. Come in me till I can't hold any more."

And yet, Sam's hard again. His thick length reaches deep inside Dean, again, and this time, it's slick and slippery, and Sam fucks into him fast and hard, and when Dean comes, spilling out over his fingers and clenching up hard, Sam makes a sound like a wounded animal, and Dean achieved the impossible.

He made his brother come again.

Yeah. They've both got a bit of a kink, apparently.

Exhausted, Dean drops his legs, and Sam slips out of him, softening quickly this time. The trickle of fluid that follows is both uncomfortable, and thrilling, and both of them seem to have the same thought, their hands meeting as they each seek out the proof, the evidence Sam left behind.

Neither speak. Dean looks up, into Sam's eyes, as he traces the edge of his stretched, tender, leaking hole. Sam kisses Dean hard, as he slides two fingers back into Dean, drags the come back out of him, then shoves his fingers back inside again.

Dean writhes and moans, overstimulated, and his cock gives a feeble jerk, but he's not like Sam, he's done.

And yet, he quakes and shivers and lets Sam play, because they may be lacking candles and they might be fucking on dusty, ancient sheets, but what they have is special. It's unique, and Dean feels so so grateful that they finally figured out their shit.

They fall asleep on the dusty bed, on soiled sheets and covered in each other's fluids but tangled together in each other's arms. The mess is a problem for tomorrow, and it, at least, will force Sam to change the sheets.

And, hopefully, actually move into the place.

fin