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They’ve got episodes of a hospital procedure on the tv playing as Dean opens two bottles of Coors Light with the bottle opener ring on her finger. “I still can’t believe my baby sister’s eighteen years old and hasn't had even a sip of beer.”
Sam wraps her arms around her crossed legs and ducks her head to look at Dean. "Sorry we can't all be as cool as you." She watches Dean's hands with heavy eyes. They’re well-worn from hunts, and she has thick fingers. Dean passes one to Sam, their fingers brushing.
Sam flushes.
She’s a tiny bit—okay, a lot a bit—in love with her big sister. But who wouldn’t be? Dean is all slicked-back short hair and confident smirks and Marlboro reds dangled between fingers. She makes joke after joke until Sam finally laughs. She’s looked after Sam her entire life. She’s made looking after Sam her entire life.
And she doesn’t like Sam in that way. And Sam’s okay with that, she is, as long as she forgets how flushed she feels sometimes when Dean looks at her. She just has to make it until college. Then she can get out of here, and she won’t have to deal with this confusing mess of feelings anymore.
“C’mon, Sammy, the beer won’t bite.” Dean is full-face grinning at her.
Sam tentatively takes her full sip.
Wtf.
It’s absolute shit.
Sam tries to hide her grimace so Dean will think she’s cool, but she can’t resist a cough behind her hand.
“So?”
“Really good,” she lies.
“That’s my girl.”
-
It does taste better after a few more sips, thankfully. Halfway through the second beer it hits her, and she feels giggly and tipsy. The stress of working behind Dean and dad’s back for months to get into college slides off of her to pool at her feet. She’s floaty and happy. She doesn’t have a care in the world.
It’s just Sam and Dean pressed against each other in a motel bed together, talking and laughing like when they were kids.
She never wants this to end.
-
When Sam starts on a third beer, a concentrated pink is rising in her cheeks. Her words are slurring a bit, getting away from her. She notices every time she blinks, can feel her eyelashes fluttering.
Her body is warm where Dean’s thigh is pressed against hers. Sam can’t stop staring at her sister, at the line of Dean’s throat, at her pink lips, at her short messy hair, at the amulet around her neck that sways when she laughs. She tries to ignore the heat building in her gut, and focus on the drinking, but that just has her eyes trailing to where Dean’s own lips—full and pretty—are wrapped around her own beer bottle.
“Dean,” she mumbles, sheer want bleeding into her voice.
“What is it, Sammy?”
“You’re really handsome, Dean, d’you know that?” Oh no. She hadn’t meant to say that.
Dean freezes next to her, bottle halfway to her lips. “Sam. What the hell are you saying right now?”
Sam can't seem to stop talking. Dean is pressed right next to her, all Big Sister and butch and familiarity and warmth, and she can’t stop thinking these thoughts, can’t stop feeling needy all over. “I think it’s all those freckles. All the girls fall over themselves to get to you. And you don’t care about them for more than a fuck, and the girls know that, and they still go for you because you’re so– I don’t blame them at all. I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
“Sammy?”
Her entire body feels flushed. She’s spent so long pushing down these feelings that it’s so hard to stop them from spilling out of her mouth with her beer-dizzy brain. She reaches a hand out to brush against Dean’s cheek. Dean leans into her touch, lips parting, eyes going wide. Sam wants to kiss her so badly she’s aching with it.
Sam puts her beer on the side table then sways closer. Dean just watches her, uneasy look in her eyes.
Dean’s denim-clad legs are spread and Sam is able to easily slide between them, hand pressing into the bed beside Dean’s shoulder. Sam’s knees are brushing against Dean’s thighs. Dean has still said nothing, waiting for her to speak.
“I’ve looked up to you for so long... can you blame me when– when–” She can’t finish that thought, just desperately looks at Dean, hoping she understands.
Dean swallows harshly. Her cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. “It’s the alcohol talking.”
“I didn’t drink that much,” Sam says, and it’s true.
“You’re my baby sister. I can’t do that to you. I’m supposed to look after you.”
Sam’s eyes are big as moons when she says, “Please. For a little while, could you forget? Could you treat me like one of your girls?”
The morning after Dean would always sit down next to her and casually talk about how she would take a girl on a cheap date to the movies and call her sweetheart and herd her over to the Impala’s backseat and slide between her legs and eat her out until their thighs were shaking and they were grasping at her hair. Sam would always leave the kitchen table with a blossoming throbbing between her legs.
“Sam–”
Sam starts to tremble. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Dean says no. She doesn’t know if they can ever come back from this.
“Did you know? When you came home sniffing your fingers and bragging that they still smelled like pussy, did you know how badly it would make me want to be them?”
Dean’s eyes are heavy with guilt. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. You should’ve told me you’re– you should have told me. I didn’t even know you were into chicks, fuck, much less this. I would’ve stopped. I didn’t mean to fuck you up like this.”
“It’s okay. Just please, for one night, could you pretend I’m one of them?”
“You’re not like them.” It comes quickly. “Sammy. You’re everything to me, do you get that?” Dean’s tone is intimate and careful and raw, like she’s revealing a secret she’s kept for so long.
“I know,” Sam promises, though she doesn’t get what Dean means, not really. All she knows is she’s been in love with Dean since she knew what love was, and she feels closer to kissing her than she ever has before, and if she says the right thing she’ll get what she wants. They’re teetering on the edge together. Sam wants to fall.
“Please,” Sam says desperately, looking up at her.
There’s an uneasiness in Dean’s eyes before her features soften, and she puts her beer bottle down and swings back to look at Sam. “Okay,” Dean says, voice shaking. “If this is what you need. I’ll look after you. I promise.” Dean’s hands are shaking when she cups Sam's face in her hands and leans in and kisses her.
Sam gasps into Dean’s mouth and her hands come up to hold onto Dean’s shoulders as Dean kisses her and kisses her. It’s wet and there are tears welling in Sam’s eyes, and Dean’s lips are soft the way only a girl’s can be. It’s everything Sam’s ever hoped for.
Sam’s lips are tingling when Dean pulls back. Sam brings a hand up to touch them. They both look at each other, chests heaving.
“Was that okay?” Sam asks, voice small.
“Yeah,” Dean says. “More than okay. I liked it. A lot. Fuck. I liked kissing my baby sister. How messed up is that?“
“It’s okay,” Sam says, looking at her lips. “I’m just as messed up as you are.”
“I made you this way, didn’t I? It’s my fault?”
Sam shakes her head. “No. It wasn’t just the stories of the girls. I’ve always been this way, I think. I think a part of me has always been in you and a part of you has always been in me.”
Dean brings a hand down to scrub at her face. “That’s one fancy ass poetic way to put it. Fuck. Well, nothing we can do about that.” She looks up. ”I sorta– I sorta wanna kiss you again. Is that alright?”
“Yeah,” Sam says, smiling big. Her body feels warm all over.
“We’re never gonna come back from this, are we?”
“I hope not.”
Dean sighs, then leans forward to lick into her mouth again, a gentle “I got you, baby,” slipping out. They’re smiling as they kiss, and while not removing her mouth from Sam’s, Dean gently pushes her back on the back, hand coming up under Sam’s shirt to rest on her belly. Dean feels big, so big, bracketing her in, making her feel small and safe.
Dean trails sloppy kisses down her neck, on her jaw, making Sam gasp out and tighten her legs where they’re wrapped around Dean, pulling her closer.
“Hey Sammy, could I pull your shirt off?” Dean says into Sam’s neck, breath warming her skin.
“Yes. Yes.”
Dean pulls her shirt up from the bottom, Sam raising her arms to help her take it off. Dean flings it to the floor. Sam isn’t wearing a bra, never does when it’s just her and Dean, and Sam flushes as Dean’s steady eyes trail her chest, nipples stiffening.
Dean’s hands coming up to cup Sam’s breasts. Dean circles her thumb and Sam’s hands twitch.
“Look at you, so good for me,” Dean says, soft and reverent, rubs the rough pads of her fingers over her sensitive nipples. Sam jerks with each pass over her hand, wants to turn and hide her face, but Dean has her all spread out and on display.
Dean lowers her head and latches onto her nipple, sucking it hard into her mouth. Fuck fuck fuck. Sam breathes out heavily through her nose, pushes her hands into Dean’s hair, pulls her closer. She shutters all over as Dean licks at her tits, her eyes fluttering closed, a content sound leaving her mouth. Dean’s mouth is unrelenting and wet as she sucks, and Sam throbs, feels so achingly empty. She wants to get a hand between her legs. She knows her entire hand would pull away wet.
Sam forces Dean’s leg in between her thighs, grinds up against her, desperate for any kind of friction.
Dean notices and brings one of her hands down to cup Sam’s pussy through her jeans, kneading over her.
Sam whines, chasing her hand.
“You need fingers to fill you up, is that it? You need to feel fat and full of my fingers?”
Sam nods a frantic yes, and Dean pulls at her jeans, says, “Lift up for me, Sammy– that’s good,” and Sam flushes under her praise.
Her panties pull away wet, and Sam takes a peek down at her pussy, finds it smooth and glistening, surrounded by lush brown curls, thick and soft, and Sam would feel self-conscious, but Dean is staring down at her like she’s got the most beautiful pussy she’s ever seen.
Dean slips her fingers down in the soft crease of her soaking wet heat, smears over it, curls at her entrance. She pushes in then, slides two fingers inside so easy, huffing out through her nose. Fuck. Fuck. Her sister is inside her. Sam’s knees are quaking. Dean grabs Sam’s hips hard to hold her in place.
“Holy shit, Sammy, you’re so wet,” she says, fingers still inside her. “I can’t believe this is all for me.”
“Dean, I need more,” Sam whines, louder than she meant it to be.
“Yeah, yeah baby sis I got you, I’ll take care of you, like I always do,” Dean says, stroking over her clit, rubbing practiced circles. Sam gasps and rides herself on Dean’s fingers. It’s more pleasure than she’s felt in her entire life.
“You ever done this before?” Dean asks, a heavy look in her eyes.
“Just by myself, with my own hands,” Sam says, having flashbacks of pressing slick spit-soaked fingers up inside herself while showering, thinking of Dean’s stories with girls, putting herself in their place. “I–I try to be quiet.”
“Well now you can be as loud as you want to,” Dean says, then dives into her pussy, tonguing at her entrance, jaw stretched wide, tongue moving over her folds.
Sam gasps out, “Oh god, oh god–”
There’s a tight, throbbing heat spreading all through her belly with every stroke of Dean’s tongue, Dean licking and lapping at the plump folds of Sam’s cunt like she’s trying to suck the whole of Sam’s pussy into her mouth, and Sam is going to die right here, she’s going to die with her sister’s head between her legs and her insides on fire.
Sam can feel himself edging closer to orgasm, Dean’s tongue working over her pussy everywhere, fucking up into her and licking her up and making her feel so good that her vision is starting to blur.
She can’t speak, can’t let out anything but little moans and gasps, feels like she’s been fucked silly.
Dean pulls back briefly and looks up at Sam from between her legs, her expression awed. Like Sam is the altar she worships at. Her short hair is messy from where Sam’s been pulling at it, and her entire lower face shiny, slick and glossy. “I’m the only one that can take care of you like this, right, Sammy?” Dean asks, voice raw and hoarse. “Only your big sister?”
“Yes, yes,” Sam hiccups out. “I’m yours.” She feels it deep in her chest. She belongs to Dean and she always will, in a way that’s just theirs.
Dean smiles stupidly at her, then dips her head down again, licking over her center, mouth warm and wet. Sam sees her get a hand down her own pants, probably rubbing circles over her clit, and the idea that she’s getting off to eating Sam’s pussy is the hottest thing she’s ever seen. Her thighs clench around Dean’s head, and fuck, she’s coming, her head lolling back and her fingers grasping uselessly against the sheets while her whole pussy quivers inside and out, achingly aware of Dean’s mouth on her, Dean’s body over hers. She’s floaty and at peace and happy.
Dean's eyes are squeezed shut when Sam finally opens hers, and she’s letting out little frantic gasps, and Sam watches her come, a feeling of reverence settling deep in her chest. This is all for her. Fuck all those girls, Dean is coming because of her.
When Dean’s limbs have gained movement again, she flops against the headboard with her, wiping at her slick-soaked face with the back of her hand. “Holy shit.”
“Holy shit,” Sam agrees, voice small. She looks at Dean’s face, eyes roaming over her freckles. “No more other girls, okay?”
“Okay,” Dean says easily. She wraps an arm around Sam, pulls her closer, nestles a soft kiss in her hair. “You’re all I need. My baby sister.”