Chapter 7

They bury the bartender right there on the side of the road, then continue on to the next town with a motel.

"Got us the honeymoon suite." Dean unlocks the door and damn near falls through with Sam attached to him from behind. "Goddammit, Sammy. Have a little class."

Sam huffs out a laugh and yanks the bag out of Dean's hand, dropping it and shoving Dean toward the bed.

"Hang on." Dean twists out of Sam's grip. "Gonna need that." He unzips his bag, reaches in, all the way to the bottom. He passes Sam lube and a box of condoms.

Sam stares at the items in his hands. "Holy shit," he breathes.

"This isn't what you want? Just say the word. I mean, you tried to fuck me on the side of the goddamn road. If this isn't how you want it—"

"I do," Sam says. "I just— I have no idea what I'm doing—"

"I got you." Dean takes the things from Sam and he throws them on the bed. "I got this covered." He reaches up, and he pulls Sam into a kiss, and it's ridiculous how good this feels, how right. All his sense of wrong as it relates to his physical need for Sam is just gone.

Dean pulls away. He starts stripping.

Sam watches, his mouth hanging open.

Dean stands before his brother, naked, hard, and he reaches out.

"I wanna see you." Dean slowly peels away the clothing covering his brothers body. "I want to see all of you, touch all of you. I want to make you come," he breathes. "When you're inside me."

Sam moans. The sound he makes is desperate, helpless.

Overwhelmed.

It's too new, for Sam. He's been flayed raw by what the cherub did to them, and it's so much worse for Sam because it's new.

Dean's prepared to hole up here for as long as it takes. He doesn't know if they will ever get this out of their system, but he knows what Sam needs right now, and he's damn well going to give it to him.

Dean pushes his naked brother back towards the bed. "Sit," he says. Dean arranges the pillows between the headboard and Sam's back, holds him there as Sam reaches for him. "Stay," Dean commands.

He could just as easily climb on top of Sam and grind until he comes, but after Dean came in his mouth on the side of the road, Sam grabbed Dean's legs, pulled him flat on the front seat, tried to take off his jeans. There was a kind of madness about it, and he rasped "I gotta fuck you," past his wreaked throat, "I gotta fuck you, Dean."

Dean put a stop to it. He wasn't getting fucked by his brother for the first time like that, out in the open, dry and bare. Not like that.

He throws his leg over Sam's thighs, and he wraps his hand around Sam's cock. It's leaking a steady stream of precome down the length. Dean uses it to jack his brothers cock, long firm strokes that get Sam moaning again and thrusting up into Dean's hand.

Dean can't resist the urge to slide his own cock up against Sam's, wrapping his fist around the both of them and rocking his hips, fucking his cock through his fingers.

Sam starts panting, breathing hard, and he grabs Dean by the ass, guiding him. Sam's fingers slip into the cleft, searching.

"Wanna fuck me?" Dean pants against his brothers lips between kisses, hot, biting, wet kisses. "Wanna get inside me?"

Sam grunts and his finger finds Dean's hole, rubs over it, then presses inside on sweat alone.

Dean gasps and his hips jerk as he fucks his fist, his brothers cock, fucks back onto Sam's finger. "I want you in me," he breathes into Sam's ear. "I want your cock inside me. Wanted it for so long, Sammy. I wanna ride that big cock, fuck."

"Do it," Sam hisses. "Jesus, Dean. Just do it." He pulls his finger free and grabs Dean by the hips, lifting him, manhandling him into position.

Dean dumps out the whole box of condoms, grabs one as the rest scatter to the floor.

Sam breathes hard as Dean rolls the condom onto his cock, and his hips jerk up into Dean's hand as Dean spreads lube over the length.

"Let me do this," he instructs his brother, as he rises on his knees, positioning Sam's cock, lining him up.

Dean's got one hand on Sam's shoulder, the other on Sam's cock. He bears down, his body swaying as the pressure distracts him.

Sam grabs him by the waist, steadying him. "I got you," he murmurs, looking into Dean's eyes.

Dean leans forward, kissing his brother gratefully. He slowly sinks down, impaling himself, inch by inch, onto Sam's cock.

He's so fucking full. Dean can't think of anything else.

There's a keening sound echoing in his ears, and he realizes it's coming from him. Sam's hands are pressing bruises into Dean's flesh.

"Dean," Sam chokes. "Fuck, Dean."

Dean pants against Sam's cheek, and he rocks his hips, and Sam's cock shifts inside him. All of Dean's nerve endings are on fire, the pressure inside him so intense it's all he can think about.

Sam moans and his hips jerk, fucking his cock deeper into Dean's body, and Dean holds tight to Sam's shoulders, and he meets Sam in the middle, rolling his hips, grinding down on his brother's cock.

The sounds they make blend together, and the room is a symphony of grunts and moans, feral, primitive, and Dean wonders if it'll always be like this between them.

If what the cherub did to them in his final moments will follow them to the end of their days. If either of them will ever be able to hide this. If they'll ever be able to conceal the way they feel about each other from the outside world, from the people who know them.

Some of those relationships may break down because of it.

No matter what, they'll have each other. Nothing, now, can tear them apart. Only death.

"Dean." Sam's voice is urgent, warning. His mouth hangs open and he breathes hard and his pupils are huge, almost eclipsing the iris.

Dean reaches for his cock, wet and dripping with precome, and he rides Sam's cock, rising up on his knees, falling, until Sam stiffens beneath him, and Dean can feel his brother flexing, jerking, coming inside him.

Dean strips his cock, a handful of strokes and he's painting Sam's chest with sticky ropes of come.

---

They've had more sex during the past week than Dean's probably had in the last year. Hopefully they've got the worst of it out of their systems.

He can at least feel confident that Sam's not going to hump his leg in public, and he's pretty sure they can hunt.

They found a haunting. Should be a cakewalk. Salt. Burn. Book a room and fuck their brains out.

Rinse and repeat.

They haven't figured out yet what they're going to do about what people think. They could be open about it with those who know them best. The cherub did this. It's not their fault.

Some of them will understand. Some won't. There's no way to know which will be which. It's a problem for another day.

Right now, all Dean cares about is the fact he's with Sam. The man he loves—and who loves him—more than life itself is beside him in the front seat of the Impala and there's a highway stretched out in front of them. The sun is inching down below the horizon, and when it really comes down to it, not a whole lot has changed.

And we're done here. Thank you to everyone who has commented and kudosed along the way 🥰