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Sam had almost convinced himself that Dean would understand.
He was so very wrong.
And it broke his heart to see his brother in so much pain. No matter how much Sam tried to reassure him that his decision to go to college had nothing to do with their relationship, he knew that Dean still had some residual guilt about everything they’d done over the past few years.
“You can move to California. We can live together,” Sam said, almost pleading. “Leave Dad. Leave hunting. If we have each other, what else do we need?”
The anguish on Dean’s face almost broke Sam. “We can’t leave him alone, Sammy. He needs us.”
Sam snorted. “He doesn’t need us, Dean. He likes having us to boss around.”
Dean’s jaw set. “Remember Jim Dugan? How those werewolves ripped him apart? That’s what happens when you hunt without a partner. I won’t let that happen to Dad.”
“So you’ll leave me alone instead?” Sam said in a small voice. It was playing dirty, he knew it as soon as he looked at Dean’s face.
“Don’t go,” Dean begged. “Please, Sammy, I can’t stand it if you leave me.”
And standing there, looking into Dean’s watery green eyes, Sam almost agreed to stay. To keep hunting. To do anything as long as Dean was by his side and in his arms.
“I have to go, Dean,” he said, unwilling to meet his brother’s eyes.
Sam wasn’t expecting Dean to throw him against the door, but he couldn’t deny that he deserved it. He braced himself for a punch, but instead, Dean slotted his mouth over Sam’s, kissing him desperately, like he needed it to survive.
Sam groaned as his body, finely tuned to everything Dean, reacted to the harsh kiss. Dean pressed his tongue into Sam’s mouth, all of his usual finesse gone. It was the last kiss of a dying man. And Sam was the one killing him.
Dean fell to his knees, the tears flowing freely. Sam didn’t remember ever seeing Dean cry so hard. He could count on one hand how many times he’d seen Dean cry at all. But there his brother was, on his knees and mouthing at Sam through his jeans.
“Baby boy,” Dean gasped. “I can’t do it without you.”
Sam grabbed Dean’s hair, torn between pulling him back to his feet and opening his fly. Even now, in the midst of the most traumatic event of his life, all he wanted was his brother.
If he’s all that you want, then don’t leave him.
It made a kind of sense to him. Dean was the only thing that mattered. But that’s why Sam had to go to college. He wanted out of the hunting life, and he wanted Dean out, too. No more hustling pool and stealing credit cards. No more living in two tons of Detroit steel.
No more putting their lives on the line to protect people who didn’t even know they existed.
No, Sam had to go to Stanford. He’d need to be able to get a good job to support them. He knew that Dean could get a job as a mechanic anywhere he wanted, but a mechanic’s salary would only go so far. Sam needed a degree and a white-collar profession. It was his best chance to get the two of them out.
But he couldn’t tell Dean that. Dean would bristle at the idea of Sam taking care of him, when it was clear to Dean that the natural order put him in the role of provider. He wouldn’t understand, so Sam was going to have to be the strong one.
He imagined a future where he and Dean could live together openly as partners. No one would know. Sam would practice law — family law, maybe, or civil rights or immigration — and Dean would put in his hours at a repair shop until Sam saved up enough to let Dean open his own shop restoring old cars.
They would grow old and gray together, and love each other through every moment of it. But that couldn’t happen if Sam didn’t go to college.
“Please, Sammy,” Dean said, looking up at Sam as if he could see into his very soul. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave me.”
Sam dropped his head back and hardly felt when it banged against the door. “Never want to leave you, Dean,” he groaned. “It’s not about you.”
It was an obvious lie, but Sam knew that Dean misunderstood exactly how it was about him. And Sam couldn’t make him understand. Not yet.
“Sure feels pretty personal,” Dean said. The sadness in his voice sliced Sam to the core.
“I’ll be able to visit on my breaks,” Sam said. “Please, De, don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”
He hauled Dean to his feet and grabbed his jacket, pulling Dean against him. They kissed once again, desperate, until they weren’t sure whose tears were whose. Sam wasn’t sure exactly when the balance shifted from desperation to bone-deep lust, but suddenly Dean was thrusting against him and there were far too many layers of clothes between their cocks.
They scrambled to undress one another, clothes flying as they got ever-closer to skin on skin. When they were finally naked, Dean fell back on the bed, wrapping his hand around the back of Sam’s neck and pulling him down on top.
Sam kissed Dean, sloppy and artless and perfect, and tried to roll them over so Dean was on top. But Dean wouldn’t move. “Need you inside me, Sammy,” he panted.
Sam stilled, too shocked to do anything else. “We don’t do it like that,” he said dumbly. But it was true. Dean always fucked Sam. Never the other way around.
“Please,” Dean gasped. “Sammy, I need you to fuck me.”
Suddenly, all the sexual aggression that Sam had ignored over the years came roaring to the forefront. He did want to fuck Dean. There was nothing he wanted more.
Sam ground down, his cock sliding alongside Dean’s and causing both of them to groan. “You want Little Brother’s cock inside you?” he asked, nipping at Dean’s neck.
“Fuck, yes,” Dean said, thrusting against him. “You gonna fill me up, Sammy? Gonna put that monster cock of yours to good use?”
“Depends on how pretty you beg,” Sam said. He had completely forgotten about their previous conversation. All that mattered was his brother beneath him, writhing like the platonic ideal of sex.
Sam sucked Dean’s neck, knowing that he was leaving a mark and not caring in the slightest. He began to work his way down, stopping to swirl his tongue around Dean’s hard nipple. He twisted the other nipple between his fingers and savored the noise Dean made, a hurt, lost, desperate noise. Sam continued down, tracing Dean’s abs with his tongue, skirting around his belly button, and sucking down his happy trail.
Right before he got to Dean’s cock, Sam stopped. Dean growled and tried to push Sam’s head down, but Sam held strong.
“Where’s the lube?” he asked.
“I keep a bottle in the nightstand,” Dean said.
“How long has that been there, Dean?”
“I don’t fucking care, Sammy, I just need you to keep going.”
Sam realized that he really didn’t fucking care either, at least at that very moment. He sprawled over the side of the bed towards the nightstand and found the bottle. Dean took the opportunity to wrap his hand around Sam, setting the pace rough and fast.
“You keep that up, I’m going to come in your hand instead of your ass,” Sam said, opening the bottle and artlessly slicking up two fingers. He knew Dean hadn’t done this before because he hadn’t done it with Sam, and Dean sure as hell wasn’t fucking anyone else when his brother was always willing and available.
Sam returned to his spot between Dean’s legs and swirled his tongue around the head of Dean’s cock. Dean groaned, thrusting towards Sam.
“Uh uh,” said Sam. “None of that.”
He pinned Dean’s hip down with one hand while he sucked Dean all the way to his base. Sam swallowed around Dean’s cock and was rewarded with an even louder groan.
Sam gently circled Dean’s hole with his finger, marveling at the fact that no one else had ever had Dean in this way. Dean’s groaning was interspersed with gasps as Sam teased his cock and his rim at the same time. Sam finally took pity on him and slid just the tip of his finger inside his brother.
Dean choked, but apparently he didn’t mind it, considering how he began to push himself towards Sam’s hand.
Sam wanted to tell Dean to relax, but he didn’t want to lose the weight of his brother on his tongue. Instead, he pulled his hand away until Dean stilled.
“Please, Sammy,” Dean said, and his voice sounded every bit as broken as it had when Sam told him about Stanford.
Sam relented and pushed in a little further, Dean’s tight tunnel opening like it had been waiting for him.
“You’ve been practicing,” Sam accused, moving his mouth away from Dean’s cock. Dean whimpered in response. “You have, haven’t you, Dean?”
“A little,” Dean admitted. “I keep fantasizing about you fucking me. I’ve messed around a little in the shower.”
A thrill of desire shot through Sam at the idea of his brother fingering himself in the shower, thinking about Sam’s cock.
He sucked his brother down again and pushed his finger further inside. He went faster than he intended to, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. Sam began working his finger slowly in and out of Dean’s ass, keeping up the suction on his brother’s cock.
“Fuck yes, Sammy,” Dean said. “I can take more.”
Sam worked a second finger in beside the first.
“God, workin’ me over so good, baby brother,” Dean said.
Sam pushed his fingers into his brother, marveling at the fact that he got to do this. He twisted his wrist, searching, and was finally rewarded by Dean crying out in sheer pleasure.
“Oh, fuck, that’s it, baby, right there,” Dean babbled. “Feels so goddamn good, Sammy, don’t stop.”
“Shhh,” Sam said. “Unless you want Bobby to know what we’re up to in here.”
Dean glanced at the door nervously, but was quickly distracted when Sam added a third figure and began to stretch.
“Open me up and fuck me, Sammy,” Dean whispered. “Spear me on your cock. Ruin me for anyone else.”
“Pretty sure I did that when I was twelve, Dean,” Sam said with a filthy grin.
Dean wrapped his hand around himself and stroked. “It’s fuckin’ true,” he said. “Ever since that first time, it’s always been you. It’ll always be you.”
Sam suddenly couldn’t wait any longer and moved back to slick himself up.
“That’s it,” Dean growled. “Need you, Sammy. Need you inside me.”
Sam pressed against Dean’s hole, marveling as the head of his cock popped through the tight ring of muscle. He stopped to make sure that Dean was alright.
Dean grunting, trying to push Sam further inside him. “Quit fuckin’ around Sammy, or I’ll turn you over and take what I want.”
And despite that being an incredible thought, Sam had no intention of letting it happen. He pushed himself into Dean until he bottomed out. He knew he should move, but he couldn’t. He was on a hair trigger, Dean’s body clutching him so tightly. It was unlike anything Sam had ever felt before.
He collapsed on Dean, almost crying at the sheer overwhelmingness of the sensation. Dean kissed him gently, an almost shocking counterpoint to the animal rutting they’d been doing before. “It’s okay, Sammy,” he said. “When you’re ready.”
Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready, but he could only ignore the sensations coursing through his body for so long. He finally pulled back, and then pushed himself in again.
“Good boy,” Dean panted, still in charge regardless of the fact that he was skewered on Sam’s cock. “That’s it, baby, give it to me.”
Sam began thrusting more steadily, each stroke sending a wave of sensation crashing through him. “Dean, I’m not going to last,” he said.
“I know, baby,” Dean said. “It’s okay. Come for me, Sammy. I want to feel you deep inside me.”
Sam let go then, let the feeling entirely overwhelm him. He wasn’t sure how long it was — it felt like seconds, and it might have been — before he was coming hard inside his brother.
“Fuck yes, Sammy,” Dean said. “Love the way you fuck me.”
Sam was vaguely aware of Dean stroking himself through his own release. After a moment, he put his arms around Sam and held him tight. Sam felt Dean’s come on his stomach and he couldn’t bring himself to care.
They drowsed that way for a bit, sometimes waking enough to trade slow, satiated kisses. Sam finally pulled out and Dean made a sad little bereft noise.
“Don’t leave me, Sammy,” he whispered.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed staring at his debauched brother and knew that he was about to break his heart.