Chapter 7

After waking up together in Sam's bed, they drive. There's no job to go to, no monster to hunt, but they drive.

Sam is soft, and meek, and seems torn between quiet joy and apprehension. Dean doesn't have a lot of time left. They don't have a lot of time left together, and the space between them is thick with tension.

Thick with a sense of urgency, that there are things they have to do before the clock runs out, and a definite fear that they won't get it done.

And so, when they finally check into a motel at the edge of a town they don't even know the name of, as soon as the door closes behind them they each spring into action.

Dean up-ends his duffel on the floor between the twin beds he requested out of habit. He shoves rolled up jeans and shirts aside and finds the lube he always keeps in there, tosses it on the bed furthest from the door and then reaches for Sam.

But Sam slips out of Dean's arms as he falls to his knees. He looks up at Dean, breathing hard, his hands on Dean's thighs and a soft plea in his eyes.

"Oh, shit," Dean breathes. He's already hard, has been since before they got through the door just from the anticipation of what he knew was going to happen as soon as they were alone. "Yeah," he says, and then unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his fly.

Then his brother's mouth is on his cock, and Dean gasps as Sam swallows him to the hilt. He tangles his fingers in Sam's hair as Sam's mouth slides up and down Dean's shaft.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean moans. Sam's done this before. There's no fucking way he's never sucked cock before with the way he's going to quickly—too quickly—make Dean come. "Sammy, hold up, I don't wanna—"

Sam pulls off and looks up at Dean with his goddamn pleading puppy dog eyes, the same ones he's been using since before he could speak in sentences when he wanted something, the same ones that always make Dean crumble. "Let me," he says, and then he nuzzles Dean's cock, dragging his cheek over the length. His stubble makes Dean shiver. "I wanna do it right, Dean." This time goes unspoken, but it hangs heavy between them. He puts pressure on Dean's thighs, guiding him backward toward the bed, and then pushes him down to sit on the end of it. Sam pulls Dean's jeans down, and Dean lifts his ass off the mattress so Sam can rid him of them. "Let me do this right."

Sam slips off Dean's boots, casts his jeans aside. Dean's naked from the waist down, and the room isn't cold, but goosebumps spread over his skin. A tinge of vulnerability comes over him. "I need you to take your clothes off, Sam," he whispers, unable to hide the slight quaver in his voice.

Sam immediately starts stripping. Down to nothing. "One word, Dean, and I'll stop. I want you to feel safe."

"I do," Dean says. It's true, except for small, brief moments. Stupid things. He can't be restrained, for one. He doesn't want Sam heavy on his body. He wants Sam on his back, Dean wants to ride his fat cock, he wants to be on top, in control. "I'll tell you," he says. "I'll tell you what I need."

Sam dropped back to the floor as soon as he was free of his clothes. On the floor, on his knees, in front of Dean's spread thighs. He kneels, one hand on either of Dean's knees. "Tell me what you need," he whispers, as he kisses first one knee, and then the other.

Dean reaches back, finds the lube. He bites his lip as he hands it to his brother. "Your fingers," he says. "Slow. I don't wanna come yet."

Sam nods. He pushes Dean's legs apart, lifts his knees, and he slides a slick finger over Dean's tight hole. He leans forward and sucks Dean's cock into his mouth, and it's the perfect distraction while he pushes his fingertip inside.

Dean shivers at the strange, odd intrusion. He looks down into his brothers eyes as Sam holds Dean's cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the head.

"The truth," Dean says, his breath hitching as Sam pushes his finger deeper into Dean's body. "I need the truth."

Sam lifts an eyebrow and pulls his mouth off of Dean's cock. Slowly he thrusts his thick finger in and out of Dean's hole.

"How many dudes have you fucked before, Sam? Before me."

The last two words are hard to force out. The night under the bridge doesn't count. The night Dean was cursed and would have died if Sam had not done what he did doesn't count, but Dean wants to be clear. Wants it to be clear that Dean isn't included in the men Sam's been with before now.

"Three," Sam says. His finger slides in and out of Dean's body at a steady pace. "Just three."

Dean's breath comes quicker. His cock aches and his balls are tight. "Did they look like me?" he asks. "Did you fuck them because you wanted me?"

"The first one," Sam whispers. "Looked enough like you that I could pretend. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean shakes his head. "Don't be." He lies back and he pulls his knees into his chest. "More," he says. Someone taught Sam how to suck cock, how to make Dean ready, and Dean's grateful for that. "I wanna be on top." Dean gasps as he moves his hips, fucking himself on his brother's fingers when Sam slides another in alongside the first. Dean shudders as Sam grazes his prostate. "Fuck, Sammy. Like that." Dean wants to hold Sam to the bed by the shoulders and ride him until he comes inside. "I need to be on top."

Sam puts another one of his fingers inside Dean.

"Fuck," Dean says. It burns, and he can't remember this part from last time, he was out cold, and when he came to he was already full of his brother's cock and it was a fucking nightmare, his first thought was that he was already in hell.

But Dean's not in hell. Not yet. He's in a cheap motel with his brother, and the ceiling tiles are stained and grimy and there's a faint scent of bleach surrounding him. Not brimstone, not sulfur. Bleach.

"Sam," Dean says. "Sam, stop."

Sam immediately pulls his fingers free of Dean's body, too fast, too abruptly, and Dean's body clenches down on nothing, and the aching emptiness is worse than the stretch.

"Tell me what you need," Sam says, pulling away as Dean drops his feet to the floor and sits up. "Just tell me, Dean."

"On the bed." Dean breathes hard, fast. He reaches out to drag Sam by the arm, urging his brother to move faster, because he feels hollow inside. Dean wants to be full but in a way he can control. "On your back, Sam. I have to be on top of you."

Sam's clumsy as he flops onto his back on the narrow bed. He pulls the lube from underneath his butt, and he smears it on his cock.

Dean watches his brother stroke himself, Sam's fist sliding over his thick length. No wonder it felt like Dean was on fire with that inside him. Sam was in a hurry, desperate to save Dean's life and Dean was out cold, Dean's pain was probably pretty low on Sam's list of priorities at the time.

"I'm fucking scared," Dean says, as he throws his leg over Sam's thighs and kneels above him, looking down at Sam, still sliding his hand over his slick cock.

"We don't have to do it," Sam says, propping himself on one elbow and reaching for Dean with his lube-slick hand. Sam's big cock slaps against his belly when he releases it. "We can—" Sam bites his lower lip and moans. "Like last night." Panting into each other's mouths and rubbing their cocks together until they spill, hot and messy, between their bodies. Sam's slick fingers roll over Dean's nipple, and it immediately tightens into a hard peak, and Dean shudders, his cock jerking.

"Or we can stop," Sam says.

"I don't wanna stop." Dean leans over and he kisses Sam, mouthing clumsily at his brother's lips, tugging at Sam's lower lip with his teeth. He rocks his hips, sliding his cock the length of Sam's, and they slide together on the excess lube coating Sam's dick. "Oh," Dean says. He thrusts against Sam's dick again. "Oh, fuck."

And he feels good. He knows it would be good, and it would be enough, just to come together like this again, and yet—

"I wanna be full of you," Dean says, and he slides a little more forward, and Sam's cock slips below his balls and the tip drags against Dean's taint, and then the blunt head catches at his hole. "I want you to— I want to feel you inside me."

Sam grunts and his hips twitch and his cock slips past Dean's hole. "Sorry," Sam gasps. "Dean I'm sorry."

Dean shakes his head, and he puts his hands on Sam's shoulders, pinning him to the mattress. "Don't be sorry," he says, and then he pushes against the head of Sam's cock, and he opens up, burning, stretching, moaning. "Just be— Oh fuck."

And then the head of Sam's big cock pops inside Dean's hole and he can't think, can't speak, can only moan and shudder as hot sparks spread over the surface of his skin.

"Oh, fuck, Dean," Sam says, reaching up to stroke Dean's face, warm fingertips moving over Dean's cheeks, to drag at his lower lip.

Dean opens his mouth, moans around two of Sam's fingers, and he presses down, taking another inch of his brother's cock inside him. Sam is fucking huge, his cock is thicker than he remembers, but he was out cold for this bit, and when he came to he was dosed on oxy and even then Dean's insides were on fire.

But he was fighting it then. He fought Sam the whole way. He didn't want it.

But now he wants it. And it's all twisted and it's all so messed up, but they've never been fucking normal, what a fucking surprise they end up like this.

"I want you in me," Dean mumbles around Sam's fingers on his tongue, and he pushes down again, and Sam stretches him open from the inside, and, oh god, he can feel Sam's big cock right up inside him. "I want it, Sammy." He slides down Sam's cock, inch by inch, pushing, writhing, moaning and sucking on Sam's fingers.

Until he's fully seated in Sam's lap. Until Sam's cock is all the way inside him. And he can't breathe. And he can't speak. And the only thing he can think about is how full he is, how Sam's warming him from the inside. About how Sam's cock throbs with the beat of both their hearts.

"I got you," Sam says, stroking the small of Dean's back, his sides, his belly. His hands slide up to brush his fingers over Dean's nipples, pulling them both into hard, throbbing peaks. "I've got you, Dean. You okay?"

Sam's so heavy inside him. So thick. So long. Dean manages a stilted nod and then rolls his hips. Sam's cock moves inside him. They both moan. Dean leans forward, seeking out his brother's mouth.

But all he can do is bite at Sam's lower lip. He pulls at it, breathing hard as he moves on his brother's cock. He rocks his hips. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. It's all in slow-mo, like time has slowed and the air in the shabby room is thick and warm.

With every movement of Dean's hips they each let out a soft grunt of pleasure. Dean breathes against his brother's mouth, hot, heavy puffs of air.

And then Sam lifts his chin and takes possession of Dean's mouth. Dips his tongue between Dean's lips, licking, sucking. He puts his hands on Dean's hips, and they feel tense, shaking like he's holding back.

"Do it," Dean rasps. "Do it, Sam. Fuck me."

Sam moans and arches beneath Dean's body. His fingers press bruises into Dean's hips. His hands clench, and release, and clench again. And then he growls, and he rolls up into Dean's body, matching Dean's movements until they're moving in sync, and they both start to move faster, harder, together.

Dean has a bad habit of dwelling on things in his past. He's not having flashbacks anymore, which is great, but he still remembers. Compares.

And maybe it was a demon inside him that night beneath the bridge, because he can't compare. It feels like the first time, like it's the first time he's had a man inside him, like Sam is breaking new ground. Here, now.

Perhaps Dean is so overwhelmed with the fullness, the feeling of being stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey, with the zing and shivers that consume him, that it simply blocks it all out.

Or maybe it's because that night wasn't sex. Oh, it was enough sex to break the curse or Dean would be dead by now, but it wasn't sex, not really.

It was desperation.

There's a little bit of desperation in what they're doing now, of course. Dean will be dead soon. The hellhounds will come, and Dean will be gone, but Sam will go on.

"Promise me," Dean says, sweaty, breathless. "You'll live." He grinds his insides against his brother's cock, grinds his own cock against Sam's taut stomach. "Go have a life, Sam. For me."

And then there's salt on Dean's lips. His brother's tears on his tongue. Sam makes a sound, pitched high, a sound of anguish and loss and grief. "I promise," Sam says.

Relief flows through Dean, and he fucks himself on Sam's cock, rubs himself off against Sam's stomach. "Come inside me," he breathes, and he forgets all about the first time. It's gone. Wiped away. "I want to feel you coming inside me, Sammy."

Sam's hands tighten on Dean's hips, and he trusts up into Dean's body, hard and deep. "Touch yourself," he says, breathless, panting. "Come for me, Dean. I wanna feel it."

Dean slips his hand between them, wraps it around himself and starts to stroke. He straightens, and he fucks himself onto his brother's cock in just the right way that Sam's cockhead grazes over Dean's prostate with every thrust. Dean shudders and cries out, and in what seems like no time at all he's coming, spilling over Sam's belly, hot, milky fluid splashing down on Sam's skin.

Dean's still clenching around Sam's cock when Sam starts to come too, groaning and hips jerking and then finally, going still.

Both of them are still but for their gasping for air, panting for breath. Dean lays his head on his brother's chest and moans when Sam's softening cock slips out of him, followed by a trickle of warm fluid.

He's wet with sweat and come, but he's warm. It's not mud. It's not rain. It's not water pouring down from the road and offering escape in a torrent to wash him away.

---

They're shacked up in the same shitty motel in the middle of nowhere for almost a week before they get the worst of it out of their system.

And then they get in the car and drive.

"I'm not just gonna wait for them to come get me, Sam," Dean says. "I'm gonna go out hunting."

Dean's going to take out as many monsters as he possibly can before his time is up. The clock ticks down, but they've got a job to do.