Ghost Of A Long Ago Kiss (2/2)
Nov. 2nd, 2016 11:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runedgirlAuthor Name/Link: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
runedgirl
Artist Name/Link:emmatheslayer
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 11K
The girls chatted on the way back to their house like it was any other Saturday night, Jessie turning around to grin at her sister from the front seat while Dean drove.
“So, next Saturday?” Julie asked as they walked the girls up to their door. Sam’s legs felt like jelly, like the orgasm had depleted everything and left him wobbly as a newborn.
He looked at Dean, not knowing what he’d find.
Dean shrugged, smirk back in place. “Sure, ladies. Next Saturday it is.”
They went bowling the next weekend. Sam watched Jessie and Julie, in their short shorts, knock down most of the pins with matching step-step-step-release, the balls sailing down the lane sure and true. He watched Dean with equal interest, all bowlegs and swagger in his worn jeans. He scowled and looked at his hand every time there were pins left standing, like his fingers that were so deft with a gun had somehow betrayed him at this simple pastime.
What Dean didn’t realize was that it didn’t matter. Every eye in the place followed his ass as he stalked back to his seat. Jessie watched. Julie watched. Sam watched. It was impossible not to watch Dean, to appreciate the way he moved.
Sam felt awkward in comparison; he got the hang of bowling quickly, though.
“Damn, little brother! Another strike!”
Dean forgot to be a dick about it, clapped Sam on the back and looked as proud as if he’d bowled that himself.
By the time they piled in the car and headed up to Lookout Point, Sam couldn’t wait.
It was a beautiful night, warm air giving way to slightly cooler, and just enough breeze to float wisps of Jessie’s hair free from the rubber band she’d used to tame it.
“Do you have a blanket? In the trunk, maybe?”
Dean glanced at Sam, both of them alarmed. The contents of the Impala’s trunk were sure to kill the mood.
“Uh, I think there’s one in the trunk. Right, Sammy? That old red one.”
The old red one with the cowboys and indians on it that had been there forever. Sam had slept under it too many times to count, lulled to sleep with his head pillowed on Dean’s legs as Dad drove them to somewhere else.
Sam retrieved the blanket from the trunk and closed it quickly, and Julie and Jessie grinned.
“Come on,” they said in unison, jumping out of the car.
They laid the blanket down on a flat grassy area—one both girls knew the way to—and sat down.
“We havin’ a picnic?” Dean asked, and Sam could hear a trace of confusion in his voice. Maybe even a little annoyance. Dean loved the Impala’s backseat. Especially for sex.
“No, but we do have something tasty for you,” Jessie said, teasing.
And then she leaned over and pulled her sister in for a kiss.
Sam looked at Dean to see his reaction; he wasn’t sure how he’d deal if Dean looked disgusted. Of course, he should have known better. Dean whistled softly, then looked at Sam, grinning.
“We hit the jackpot, Sammy,” he said, and he looked like a five-year-old who just found out he was getting a puppy.
Not the most appropriate image.
Sam raised his eyebrows, and Dean went back to staring. The outline of Dean’s erection was obvious in his jeans.
When the girls began to fondle each other’s breasts, Dean reached down to press a hand to his pants.
“Jesuschrist,” he said, rubbing himself. “You’re gonna kill us.” He turned to Sam to include him, and Sam blushed as Dean dropped his gaze to the bulge in Sam’s pants. He grinned again, and Sam thought how inappropriate it was that Dean was proud of him for getting turned on by this. If Dean only knew.
The girls eventually broke apart and motioned for Sam and Dean to join them. Dean didn’t need to be asked twice; he was on his knees and reaching for Jessie before Sam even moved, his hands replacing Julie’s beneath her shirt.
Sam shook his head and sat down; it was strange to kiss Julie and know that Jessie’s mouth had just been there. Jessie’s mouth that was currently on Dean’s.
Sam groaned and kissed Julie harder, and she made a pleased sound and kissed back, her hands already on Sam’s zipper.
They did it right there on the old red blanket, all of them only half undressed. Julie and Jessie lay side by side, close enough that every now and then they could kiss while Sam and Dean tried not to go too hard and too fast, drawing it out to make it last like it was some insane kind of sibling rivalry.
Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye, the rise and fall of his ass and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself up.
“You close?” he said when Jessie’s broken moans got faster and more desperate, and his voice came out like it had been dragged through gravel. It went straight to Sam’s dick.
“Yeah, yeah, come with me, big sister,” Jessie said, and Julie’s eyes rolled back in her head and she clenched impossibly tight around Sam.
“You, too, come on,” Dean said, and Sam realized with a shock that ran down his entire body, like he’d been struck by lightning, that Dean was talking to him.
He cried out because he couldn’t help it, and came just like Dean told him to, and Dean echoed it, his voice deep and punched out of him like he was hurting. Their hips stuttered together, and it seemed to go on a long time before Sam let himself collapse and try to catch his breath.
Julie was panting, and Sam watched her turn her head, mouth seeking her sister’s kiss.
Sam turned to look at Dean and he was right there, his face flushed and his eyes too green and his mouth just inches away. They stared at each other, and Sam felt it in his gut when Dean’s eyes swept over his lips. He could feel his brother’s breath on his skin, almost taste it.
They had one more date with Jessie and Julie.
Sam was never sure what would have happened if they’d had more.
The following Saturday, they didn’t bother with either bowling or dinner. They drove up to Lookout Point and laid down the blanket, and Sam and Dean sat beside Jessie and Julie while they made out until Sam was so horny it was painful. Dean kept looking at him and then stroking himself through his jeans, his eyes hooded and dark in the moonlight, and Sam wanted to just lean over and say, “If they can do it, why can’t we?”
This time, Jessie and Julie took it further, hands slipped inside each other’s panties while they kissed and writhed against each other until they climaxed, still kissing.
By the time the women pulled them down, too, Sam was giddy with it, desperate. It was a warm night and there was no one around. Still, Sam was caught off guard when Julie pushed him flat on his back and began to pull off his jeans.
“Whoa, hey, are you sure…” he said, but Julie just laughed.
Dean was lying beside him, and Sam watched as Jessie unbuckled his belt and tugged down his zipper.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean was saying, because he was a hedonistic idiot and didn’t care that they were outside. Sam watched Jessie free Dean’s hard dick, then pull his jeans down and off.
The girls leaned over them, smiling. Julie’s small hands ran up his legs, tugs on the hairs on his thighs sending sparks of pleasure-pain through him. She caressed his balls and he spread his legs, acutely aware of Dean doing the same as Jessie mirrored her sister. Slowly, torturously, Julie’s hands moved on him, teasing the base of his cock and making it jump wildly. He could feel a little pool of slick on his belly.
Julie ran one finger up Sam’s length, toying with the swollen head with such a soft touch that he wanted to cry.
Beside him, he heard Dean give a strangled moan, and knew that Jessie was doing the same thing.
“You boys want more?” Julie said, and Sam wanted to plead, wanted to beg, wanted to do anything if it would get her to wrap her fingers around his aching cock.
“Jesus, please,” Dean moaned beside him, and the sex-drenched sound of his brother’s voice just made Sam more desperate.
“You know what to do, then.” It was Jessie, smiling down at them.
Dean tried to sit up, but she pressed him back flat to the ground. He groaned in frustration.
“C’mon, we showed you how it’s done,” Julie chimed in. “Give us a show.” They were both grinning, and it was wicked.
Sam figured it out before Dean. His stomach swooped; he thought he might come untouched, just at the thought.
“Huh?” Dean said, and he was starting to sound annoyed. “Just tell us and we’ll do it; come on, this is torture, this has to be illegal.”
“Dean,” Sam managed, because he had to say something; he had to let Dean know. He had to stop himself from leaning over and just doing it. “They want us to do what they did.”
“What?” Dean demanded, sounding like he was pretty pissed off at Sam now, too.
“Kiss!” Sam burst out. “They want us to kiss.”
He was looking right at Dean when that sank in; Dean’s eyes went wide, almost wild. Then Jessie ran her finger up his shaft again and his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Fucksake,” he muttered, and then he was grabbing Sam by the face and smashing their mouths together. There was absolutely no finesse to it, and Sam had a moment to wonder why everyone raved about Dean being such a good kisser before Dean’s tongue was in his mouth and Dean’s thumbs were digging into the hinge of his jaw to open him up and the possessiveness of it tore through Sam like someone had lit him on fire. He made an involuntary noise and Dean swallowed it up and kissed him harder, biting at Sam’s bottom lip and sucking his tongue until Sam got the idea and took Dean’s mouth the same way, going up on one elbow to get some leverage.
“That’s it,” Julie said, but she sounded far away and Sam didn’t care anymore. He didn’t even care about the climax that was just out of reach; he wanted to kiss Dean and never stop.
He felt Julie’s mouth on his dick at the same time Dean broke away to gasp, still holding onto Sam, his fingers wrapped in Sam’s hair. Sam opened his eyes and saw the shock in Dean’s, and then he made a hurt sound and went silent, and Sam watched him climax from two inches away, so close he could feel the hitching breaths Dean couldn’t help as he lost it. That, more than Julie’s mouth, pushed him over the edge. He tried to turn away but Dean held him fast, so Sam closed his eyes and tried not to yell with the intensity of it, coming with Dean’s hands on his face, Dean’s fingers caressing his throat and behind his ears.
They fell asleep like that, exhausted with the immensity of it, the sisters curled up behind them. It was nearly 4 a.m. when Dean’s cell went off and he fumbled them all awake.
“Dad?” Sam heard him say, and then he was rolling to his feet, scrambling for his jeans.
They left at dawn, Dad with a new lead and a new set of stitches in his leg and Sam and Dean with no time to say goodbye to the Jones sisters.
Dean found the letter from Stanford in Sam’s duffel when they unpacked at the Floridian Motel, less than 24 hours later.
* * *
That was a long time ago. Before Jess had been a part of Sam’s life; before the things he thought he’d left behind had come for her and yanked her out of it.
Sometimes Sam still thought of the Jones sisters, and that time on the red blanket. It seemed surreal now, like maybe Sam had dreamt his brother’s mouth on his and it had never actually happened. They’d never mentioned it, no matter how drunk they were. Not when Dean died, or when Sam did. Not when Sam went to hell or Dean went to Purgatory. Sam wasn’t sure whether that was because it would be playing with fire or because Dean was so disgusted by what they’d done that he’d long ago erased it from his memory and indulged in some revisionist history.
Sam had not forgotten.
So when Dean spun the laptop around and announced that there was no sign of Amara, but they maybe had a case in the meantime, the last thing Sam was expecting was for it to be the Jones sisters.
“Is that…?”
Dean nodded. He looked completely composed; the only clue that Dean also remembered what they’d done with the Jones sisters was the slight blush to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
“Wow, uh, okay. So, what… what’s happening?”
Sam’s head was spinning. Was this some insane coincidence? (Sam didn’t believe in coincidences; his entire life had taught him not to.) Or had Dean been keeping tabs on them all this time?
“Sounds like a simple ghost haunting. Are you, uh… are you up for it?”
That clinched it. Dean’s hesitation wasn’t about Amara; it was about Jessie and Julie, and what they’d done so long ago. Sam’s stomach had so many butterflies he lost his appetite for the bowl of cereal he’d just poured.
“If you think we can spare the time, I guess. I mean, yeah, sure. This is what we need, right? To get back into the game, not just sit here on our thumbs waiting.”
That’s what Sam had been saying; he needed to keep his story consistent.
“Okay, be ready in twenty,” Dean said.
Sam just stood at the table for a few minutes after his brother left the kitchen, wondering why this was making him so antsy. It was ancient history; seeing the Jones sisters again didn’t mean they’d all pick up where they left off. Hell, they were probably married with two kids each by now anyway.
* * *
They weren’t. When Julie opened the door, Sam was struck by the fact that she looked almost exactly the same, almost fifteen years later.
She narrowed her eyes at them for a minute, and then her mouth fell open.
“Sam? Dean?”
Dean chuckled, like he’d expected her to remember how hot he was or something.
“In the flesh,” he said, grinning.
“What… what are you doing here?”
“We were in the neighborhood,” Dean began, and Julie looked suspicious as soon as he said it, so Sam interrupted.
“We read the news story about the problem you’re having and thought maybe we could help. It’s… it’s kinda what we do.”
Julie looked even more incredulous.
“You’re, what? Law enforcement?”
Dean laughed out loud at that. “Oh, honey, we’re so far from law enforcement. That was no person who’s causing all those problems. And it’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
Julie didn’t bother denying it.
“It is. We had—this wasn’t in the paper, but yesterday, something… it pushed Jessie down the stairs, okay? It fucking pushed my sister down the fucking stairs, and she… she…”
Julie began to sob.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dean said, stepping forward and pulling Julie into a hug. To Sam’s surprise, she went easily, sniffling against his shoulder while Dean patted her back.
Sam had the irrational thought that Julie was supposed to be his. Or maybe the thought really was that Dean was supposed to be; he wasn’t sure.
“Come on in,” Julie said finally, pulling away from Dean and wiping at her eyes. She motioned them into the house. They walked through a comfortable-looking living room; overstuffed chairs, a large, striped couch. There were children’s toys on the floor and spilling out of a woven basket in the corner. So Sam had been right about the married-with-kids thing.
Julie led them to a sun porch off one side of the house.
“Hey, Jess, remember Sam and Dean? From Porter? That summer before graduation?”
Jessie was seated on a wicker couch, her leg propped up on the coffee table, ankle bandaged. Other than that, she, too, looked almost exactly the same. Her hair was still long and curly, though she’d pulled it up into a messy bun on top of her head.
“Oh my god,” Jessie said, and then smiled. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you…”
“They’ve offered to help with the—with that motherfucker who tried to fucking kill you!” Julie was fired up; Sam didn’t blame her.
“Shhhh, stop cursing in front of the kids,” Jessie scolded, and only then did Sam notice the two small children playing outside.
“They’re like 20 yards away,” Julie countered, but she was smiling.
“So you’re… visiting?” Dean asked, and Sam knew he was trying to work it out, same as Sam.
Julie smiled then, too. She leaned over the back of the couch to kiss her sister on the top of the head. “No, they live here. We all live here.”
Sam’s brain screeched to a halt. Surely they didn’t mean what it seemed like.
“If you’re gonna judge, you can leave right now,” Julie said, eyes narrowed again. “In fact, let me spell it out for you just to be sure. We live here, together. These are Jessie’s kids, father skipped town, divorce, yada yada. We live here together. Got it?”
Dean had gone pale, and was staring at Julie like she was speaking another language.
Sam forced himself to ignore the way his brain was going holyshit holyshit holyshit and nodded. “Got it, yeah. And we don’t judge. Do we, Dean?”
Dean didn’t look at Sam when he answered. “No, no, of course not. We just—we’re just here to help.”
“Okay then,” Julie said, and Jessie reached up to pat her sister’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. Sam watched Dean’s eyes track the motion, and his ears once again turn red.
* * *
It was one of the simplest salt-and-burns they’d ever had. Julie and Jessie had bought the house without knowing its violent and tragic history, and the ghost had thought it had easy pickings with the new owners.
Julie insisted they stay for dinner, and as soon as Dean got a look at the homemade cherry pie on the counter and the burgers and ribs Julie was pulling out of the refrigerator for the grill, there was no question as to their answer.
He had calmed down after their revelation, and now seemed more curious than anything. He still wasn’t looking at Sam, though.
“So you’re sure it’s gone?”
Dean nodded, his mouth full of a giant bite of burger (his second) with sliced onions, tomato, and a lake of ketchup piled on top. A trickle of juice ran down the side of his face, and Sam should have been thinking his brother was disgusting. He wasn’t.
“Oh, it’s gone,” Dean assured her, talking around his mouthful. He had a glob of ketchup on his chin and he looked ridiculously happy and Sam’s chest ached with how much he loved his brother.
“We don’t know how to thank you,” Jessie said.
The kids had finished and wandered back out to the yard to take advantage of Daylight Saving Time, and the rest of them were also done eating, so everyone was more or less watching Dean.
“No problem,” Dean said, muffled around his burger.
“Well, I could think of one way. For old time’s sake,” Julie said.
Dean made a choking sound and put his burger down. Time seemed to stand still as Sam’s brain spun in circles. She wanted to… they wanted to… like before? With him and Dean? Sam’s most secret fantasy, the one that had never gone away, not in over a decade.
He realized with a start that everyone was looking at him. Julie with an eyebrow cocked in invitation, Jessie shaking her head with a smile, and Dean pale and shocked, the only color on his face the bright-red ketchup on his chin.
Sam was frozen, unable to speak. What could he say? Yes, please, let’s do that; I’ve been waiting all these years to kiss my brother again? He didn’t know if Dean was frozen in shock or disgust, and he didn’t want to find out.
Jessie saved him. “Nah, she’s just kidding. We don’t do that anymore. We’re an old may-as-well-be-married couple now. Right, Jules?”
Julie laughed. “Can’t blame me for tryin’. You two were the hottest brothers we ever messed around with.”
“There were others?” Dean asked, seeming to finally find his voice. “Other… brothers?”
Jessie smiled at her sister. “We kinda had a thing for brothers.”
Sam looked over at Dean, who was still pretty pale.
“Pie?” Julie asked, holding out the delicious-looking confection.
Awkward moment or not, there was no chance Dean was walking away from pie.
They finished the meal with small talk, and then the sisters walked them out.
“Thanks again,” Jessie said, hugging them both. Julie did the same.
“So I guess we misjudged you, huh?” she said she opened the door. “We kinda thought you guys were like us.”
“Like you?” Dean asked, avoiding looking at Sam.
Sam’s stomach had gone into full butterflies mode again. Oh god. They knew? Had he been so obvious?
“You know,” Julie said. “We thought—I mean, it’s pretty clear you two put each other before everything else.”
Dean nodded mutely. Julie was looking at him, not at Sam.
“But it’s more than that, isn’t it? What you feel for each other. It’s more than that, right? I mean, we can see how…”
Jessie grabbed her sister by the arm and pulled her backwards, shaking her head. “Shhh, Jules, leave it. Let them work it out on their own time, okay? Stop trying to be an illegal matchmaker.”
“It’s not illegal,” Julie complained. “Or it shouldn’t be. Not like they’re gonna make two-headed babies…”
“Oh god,” Jessie said, shaking her head. “Sorry. She’s just trying to help… You two just, just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Dean nodded again and walked backwards through the door, almost falling down the two steps to the walkway.
“And keep loving each other,” Julie called over her sister’s shoulder, as Jessie shut the door. She was smiling, though, Sam could see that as the door closed.
The drive back to the bunker was going to set a new record of awkward, Sam thought as he climbed into the car. But at least Jessie had stopped her sister before she gave Sam away.
* * *
Four silent hours later, Dean abruptly pulled the Impala into a gas station in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t open, but the lights above the pumps and the neon CLOSED sign illuminated the gravel parking lot enough that Sam could see his brother’s expression. Dean’s lips were pursed, a muscle in his jaw working. His hands still gripped the steering wheel like he was preparing to try to hold a hairpin turn.
“What are you thinking?” Dean blurted out.
“Huh?” That was the most articulate thing Sam could say. He had no clue what was happening. Had Dean—ohgod, had Dean figured it out?
“I can hear your big brain going,” Dean went on, still not looking at Sam. “So spit it out.”
“Dean, I don’t know what you’re…”
That’s as far as he got before Dean whirled on him. “Don’t give me that, Sam; not now, okay? Just—just tell me, okay? Do you want out? Is that what you’re thinking? You realized that they’re right – about -- and you want to get the hell out of Dodge?”
“No, of course not,” Sam’s mouth said, because the thought of being away from Dean again for any reason made him want to puke, but his brain was stuck on “they’re right” and he couldn’t quite make the pieces fit together.
“Because if you do, look, I get it—I don’t blame you, okay? You just—you just gotta tell me, Sammy; you can’t just spring it on me, you gotta—you gotta give me some warning, okay?”
You can do this, Sam. Think. Think.
“You think I—you think I wanna leave because… because they… they were right?”
Dean put his head down on the steering wheel. He didn’t look angry anymore; he looked devastated. Ashamed.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry,” he said, muffled against the steering wheel. “I never—I would never.”
Holy shit. Holy shit.
Sam’s heart was beating so fast he felt dizzy. He wasn’t sure if it was terror or anticipation.
“But I would,” Sam finally said, and it came out a gruff whisper.
He reached across the seat and put his hand on Dean’s arm, and Dean startled at the touch.
“I would,” Sam repeated, emboldened. He slid his hand up to his brother’s shoulder, then further to touch the side of his face. Dean had a day’s growth of stubble there, rough against Sam’s fingers.
“Hey, look at me,” Sam said, and his index finger reached Dean’s mouth, brushed over his parted lips.
Dean finally turned his head. His eyes were wide, fearful. But they were moist, too, swirling with too many emotions to categorize.
“I’ve thought about it ever since that night,” Sam admitted. He didn’t know why he was still whispering. It felt too big to say out loud, all these things that had been secret for so long. “Thought about kissing you.”
Dean made a strangled sound, and his lower lip fell open beneath Sam’s finger. Sam could see his throat work as he swallowed.
“You should do it, then,” he said, voice as quiet as Sam’s. “You should…”
That’s all he was able to say before Sam leaned in and did it, just a brief brush of lips at first.
When he pulled back, Dean’s eyes were closed. His lashes, thick and dark, were wet.
“Okay,” Sam said, because maybe both of them needed to hear it. “Okay.”
Then he kissed Dean for real, hands cupping his brother’s face as they both opened up to it, eager.
Sam could hear every creak of the leather beneath them as they moved against each other, hands grasping at shirts and wandering over backs and shoulders. Dean got a handful of Sam’s long hair and tugged, and Sam moaned around Dean’s tongue in his mouth, fingers gripping the back of Dean’s neck and digging in, because Dean was his, after all this time, maybe all this time.
They made out like teenagers, in the parking lot, and Sam thought if this was all he could have, he could still die happy. His dick was hard and full, caught in the leg of his jeans, but he could live with that as long as he had Dean’s mouth on his, Dean’s hands in his hair and wrapped around his back like a vise, pulling him in.
“Tell me what you want, Sammy,” Dean urged, pulling away only to press more kisses to Sam’s neck and behind his ear. Sam shivered with the wetness, with the feel of Dean’s sharp teeth sliding along the vulnerable line of his throat. Dean’s other hand had slid down his back and to his waist, dipping beneath the belt to rest on the dimples there.
“Anything,” Sam answered, because it was true. “Everything,” because it was truer.
Dean squirmed against him, pushing Sam backwards with his eagerness, kissing back up to Sam’s mouth as they fell together onto the front seat. Sam’s head knocked against the door handle, and he banged his knee against the dashboard as he tried to make room between his legs for his brother. Dean’s dick was pressed against his own now and it felt incredible; Sam bucked up and Dean ground down and both of them groaned and did it again and again. Sam got both hands on Dean’s ass and dug his fingers in, pulling the rounded cheeks apart and rubbing over the seam, and Dean said, “Fuck, fuck,” and jammed his hands between them to fumble their jeans open. Sam didn’t try to help; there wasn’t room and he trusted his brother’s capable hands, which could take apart a gun or sew up Sam’s wounds and now could slip their belts and drag their zippers over swollen cocks until they were skin to skin and Sam fucking loved him, loved what he could do, loved who he was.
“Yesssss,” Dean hissed, and shoved his own jeans lower on his hips so Sam’s hands had free rein, no denim in the way. Sam shaped his fingers to Dean’s curves, rough when he pulled Dean’s cheeks apart again and got his finger in between. Dean’s dick was jerking and leaking against Sam’s; more when Sam pressed a fingertip inside. His hips worked frantically against Sam’s, the friction delicious, the lean muscle of Dean’s belly perfect for Sam’s cock to thrust against.
They kept kissing as they got close, Dean every now and then breaking away to curse and groan his pleasure—so loud, so fucking loud, and Sam remembered that, from those long-ago double dates.
“Sammy,” Dean ground out against his mouth, and his voice was ruined, “gonna, nghhh, gonna come, gonna make me come, little brother, gonna,” and that was it for Sam; he shoved his hips up hard and lost it, shooting all over Dean’s stomach and his own, barely aware of Dean doing the same until the spasms finally calmed and he could catch his breath.
Dean was still moving on top of him, lazily thrusting his dick through the mess on Sam’s belly and mouthing at Sam’s chin, no longer coordinated enough to manage an actual kiss.
“Dean,” Sam said, rubbing over Dean’s hole one more time to make him buck and shudder.
“Fuck,” Dean said again, and kissed Sam’s shoulder where his shirt was half pulled off to the side.
“Wanted to do that for a long time,” Sam said, so there would be no doubts.
Dean kissed him again, tenderly, on his chest. Then he went still and laid his head there. Sam could feel his own heart beating against his brother’s cheek.
“Didn’t think we should,” Dean said after a long silence.
Sam slid his hands around Dean’s waist, then up his back, rubbing slow circles there.
“Yeah, well, when has that ever stopped us?” he asked, hoping Dean would see the logic of it. Sam was sure it was logical.
Dean huffed, stretching his body like a big cat as Sam petted him. Sam could feel the stickiness between them and tried not to think about what a mess they’d be when they had to sit up.
Like he was reading Sam’s mind, Dean lay there for a few more minutes and then grunted and pushed himself to his hands and knees.
“Ewww,” he grumbled, trying to wipe the come off his shirt and pull up his jeans.
Sam glanced at Dean’s soft cock, because he could.
Dean glared at him. “You made a terrible mess.”
Sam propped himself on his elbows. His own pants were still open, and he saw Dean look, then look away. “I made a mess? I think that was both of us—and I’m wearing more of it than you, so shut up.”
Dean struggled backwards, trying to scoot past the steering wheel and reaching behind himself to open the door. He finally half fell out, and stood up to tuck himself back in.
Sam fumbled around the glove box and found a few crumpled paper towels to wipe himself off with before zipping up his own pants and buckling his belt.
He got out because Dean wasn’t getting back in, and walked around to the other side of the car where his brother was staring off into the distance.
“Dean?” Sam’s stomach was butterflying again. Was Dean regretting this? Had this been a terrible mistake? “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”
Dean seemed to snap out of it then. He gave Sam a smile that was almost shy and then leaned back against the car and looked up at the sky. It was a clear summer night, full of stars, the moon bright above them.
Sam stood next to him and looked up, too.
“All those nights we used to sit on the Impala and look at the stars,” Dean said. “I always wanted to do that, to lean over and kiss you.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Sam said, and he looked at Dean, because even with a sky like that, Dean was what Sam would always want to see.
Dean was smiling; just the corner of his mouth turned up, but Sam could tell. Sam slid his hand across the car’s smooth metal and tangled his fingers with his brother’s.
FIN
runedgirlArtist Name/Link:
emmatheslayerRating: Explicit
Word Count: 11K
The girls chatted on the way back to their house like it was any other Saturday night, Jessie turning around to grin at her sister from the front seat while Dean drove.
“So, next Saturday?” Julie asked as they walked the girls up to their door. Sam’s legs felt like jelly, like the orgasm had depleted everything and left him wobbly as a newborn.
He looked at Dean, not knowing what he’d find.
Dean shrugged, smirk back in place. “Sure, ladies. Next Saturday it is.”
They went bowling the next weekend. Sam watched Jessie and Julie, in their short shorts, knock down most of the pins with matching step-step-step-release, the balls sailing down the lane sure and true. He watched Dean with equal interest, all bowlegs and swagger in his worn jeans. He scowled and looked at his hand every time there were pins left standing, like his fingers that were so deft with a gun had somehow betrayed him at this simple pastime.
What Dean didn’t realize was that it didn’t matter. Every eye in the place followed his ass as he stalked back to his seat. Jessie watched. Julie watched. Sam watched. It was impossible not to watch Dean, to appreciate the way he moved.
Sam felt awkward in comparison; he got the hang of bowling quickly, though.
“Damn, little brother! Another strike!”
Dean forgot to be a dick about it, clapped Sam on the back and looked as proud as if he’d bowled that himself.
By the time they piled in the car and headed up to Lookout Point, Sam couldn’t wait.
It was a beautiful night, warm air giving way to slightly cooler, and just enough breeze to float wisps of Jessie’s hair free from the rubber band she’d used to tame it.
“Do you have a blanket? In the trunk, maybe?”
Dean glanced at Sam, both of them alarmed. The contents of the Impala’s trunk were sure to kill the mood.
“Uh, I think there’s one in the trunk. Right, Sammy? That old red one.”
The old red one with the cowboys and indians on it that had been there forever. Sam had slept under it too many times to count, lulled to sleep with his head pillowed on Dean’s legs as Dad drove them to somewhere else.
Sam retrieved the blanket from the trunk and closed it quickly, and Julie and Jessie grinned.
“Come on,” they said in unison, jumping out of the car.
They laid the blanket down on a flat grassy area—one both girls knew the way to—and sat down.
“We havin’ a picnic?” Dean asked, and Sam could hear a trace of confusion in his voice. Maybe even a little annoyance. Dean loved the Impala’s backseat. Especially for sex.
“No, but we do have something tasty for you,” Jessie said, teasing.
And then she leaned over and pulled her sister in for a kiss.
Sam looked at Dean to see his reaction; he wasn’t sure how he’d deal if Dean looked disgusted. Of course, he should have known better. Dean whistled softly, then looked at Sam, grinning.
“We hit the jackpot, Sammy,” he said, and he looked like a five-year-old who just found out he was getting a puppy.
Not the most appropriate image.
Sam raised his eyebrows, and Dean went back to staring. The outline of Dean’s erection was obvious in his jeans.
When the girls began to fondle each other’s breasts, Dean reached down to press a hand to his pants.
“Jesuschrist,” he said, rubbing himself. “You’re gonna kill us.” He turned to Sam to include him, and Sam blushed as Dean dropped his gaze to the bulge in Sam’s pants. He grinned again, and Sam thought how inappropriate it was that Dean was proud of him for getting turned on by this. If Dean only knew.
The girls eventually broke apart and motioned for Sam and Dean to join them. Dean didn’t need to be asked twice; he was on his knees and reaching for Jessie before Sam even moved, his hands replacing Julie’s beneath her shirt.
Sam shook his head and sat down; it was strange to kiss Julie and know that Jessie’s mouth had just been there. Jessie’s mouth that was currently on Dean’s.
Sam groaned and kissed Julie harder, and she made a pleased sound and kissed back, her hands already on Sam’s zipper.
They did it right there on the old red blanket, all of them only half undressed. Julie and Jessie lay side by side, close enough that every now and then they could kiss while Sam and Dean tried not to go too hard and too fast, drawing it out to make it last like it was some insane kind of sibling rivalry.
Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye, the rise and fall of his ass and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself up.
“You close?” he said when Jessie’s broken moans got faster and more desperate, and his voice came out like it had been dragged through gravel. It went straight to Sam’s dick.
“Yeah, yeah, come with me, big sister,” Jessie said, and Julie’s eyes rolled back in her head and she clenched impossibly tight around Sam.
“You, too, come on,” Dean said, and Sam realized with a shock that ran down his entire body, like he’d been struck by lightning, that Dean was talking to him.
He cried out because he couldn’t help it, and came just like Dean told him to, and Dean echoed it, his voice deep and punched out of him like he was hurting. Their hips stuttered together, and it seemed to go on a long time before Sam let himself collapse and try to catch his breath.
Julie was panting, and Sam watched her turn her head, mouth seeking her sister’s kiss.
Sam turned to look at Dean and he was right there, his face flushed and his eyes too green and his mouth just inches away. They stared at each other, and Sam felt it in his gut when Dean’s eyes swept over his lips. He could feel his brother’s breath on his skin, almost taste it.
They had one more date with Jessie and Julie.
Sam was never sure what would have happened if they’d had more.
The following Saturday, they didn’t bother with either bowling or dinner. They drove up to Lookout Point and laid down the blanket, and Sam and Dean sat beside Jessie and Julie while they made out until Sam was so horny it was painful. Dean kept looking at him and then stroking himself through his jeans, his eyes hooded and dark in the moonlight, and Sam wanted to just lean over and say, “If they can do it, why can’t we?”
This time, Jessie and Julie took it further, hands slipped inside each other’s panties while they kissed and writhed against each other until they climaxed, still kissing.
By the time the women pulled them down, too, Sam was giddy with it, desperate. It was a warm night and there was no one around. Still, Sam was caught off guard when Julie pushed him flat on his back and began to pull off his jeans.
“Whoa, hey, are you sure…” he said, but Julie just laughed.
Dean was lying beside him, and Sam watched as Jessie unbuckled his belt and tugged down his zipper.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean was saying, because he was a hedonistic idiot and didn’t care that they were outside. Sam watched Jessie free Dean’s hard dick, then pull his jeans down and off.
The girls leaned over them, smiling. Julie’s small hands ran up his legs, tugs on the hairs on his thighs sending sparks of pleasure-pain through him. She caressed his balls and he spread his legs, acutely aware of Dean doing the same as Jessie mirrored her sister. Slowly, torturously, Julie’s hands moved on him, teasing the base of his cock and making it jump wildly. He could feel a little pool of slick on his belly.
Julie ran one finger up Sam’s length, toying with the swollen head with such a soft touch that he wanted to cry.
Beside him, he heard Dean give a strangled moan, and knew that Jessie was doing the same thing.
“You boys want more?” Julie said, and Sam wanted to plead, wanted to beg, wanted to do anything if it would get her to wrap her fingers around his aching cock.
“Jesus, please,” Dean moaned beside him, and the sex-drenched sound of his brother’s voice just made Sam more desperate.
“You know what to do, then.” It was Jessie, smiling down at them.
Dean tried to sit up, but she pressed him back flat to the ground. He groaned in frustration.
“C’mon, we showed you how it’s done,” Julie chimed in. “Give us a show.” They were both grinning, and it was wicked.
Sam figured it out before Dean. His stomach swooped; he thought he might come untouched, just at the thought.
“Huh?” Dean said, and he was starting to sound annoyed. “Just tell us and we’ll do it; come on, this is torture, this has to be illegal.”
“Dean,” Sam managed, because he had to say something; he had to let Dean know. He had to stop himself from leaning over and just doing it. “They want us to do what they did.”
“What?” Dean demanded, sounding like he was pretty pissed off at Sam now, too.
“Kiss!” Sam burst out. “They want us to kiss.”
He was looking right at Dean when that sank in; Dean’s eyes went wide, almost wild. Then Jessie ran her finger up his shaft again and his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Fucksake,” he muttered, and then he was grabbing Sam by the face and smashing their mouths together. There was absolutely no finesse to it, and Sam had a moment to wonder why everyone raved about Dean being such a good kisser before Dean’s tongue was in his mouth and Dean’s thumbs were digging into the hinge of his jaw to open him up and the possessiveness of it tore through Sam like someone had lit him on fire. He made an involuntary noise and Dean swallowed it up and kissed him harder, biting at Sam’s bottom lip and sucking his tongue until Sam got the idea and took Dean’s mouth the same way, going up on one elbow to get some leverage.
“That’s it,” Julie said, but she sounded far away and Sam didn’t care anymore. He didn’t even care about the climax that was just out of reach; he wanted to kiss Dean and never stop.
He felt Julie’s mouth on his dick at the same time Dean broke away to gasp, still holding onto Sam, his fingers wrapped in Sam’s hair. Sam opened his eyes and saw the shock in Dean’s, and then he made a hurt sound and went silent, and Sam watched him climax from two inches away, so close he could feel the hitching breaths Dean couldn’t help as he lost it. That, more than Julie’s mouth, pushed him over the edge. He tried to turn away but Dean held him fast, so Sam closed his eyes and tried not to yell with the intensity of it, coming with Dean’s hands on his face, Dean’s fingers caressing his throat and behind his ears.
They fell asleep like that, exhausted with the immensity of it, the sisters curled up behind them. It was nearly 4 a.m. when Dean’s cell went off and he fumbled them all awake.
“Dad?” Sam heard him say, and then he was rolling to his feet, scrambling for his jeans.
They left at dawn, Dad with a new lead and a new set of stitches in his leg and Sam and Dean with no time to say goodbye to the Jones sisters.
Dean found the letter from Stanford in Sam’s duffel when they unpacked at the Floridian Motel, less than 24 hours later.
* * *
That was a long time ago. Before Jess had been a part of Sam’s life; before the things he thought he’d left behind had come for her and yanked her out of it.
Sometimes Sam still thought of the Jones sisters, and that time on the red blanket. It seemed surreal now, like maybe Sam had dreamt his brother’s mouth on his and it had never actually happened. They’d never mentioned it, no matter how drunk they were. Not when Dean died, or when Sam did. Not when Sam went to hell or Dean went to Purgatory. Sam wasn’t sure whether that was because it would be playing with fire or because Dean was so disgusted by what they’d done that he’d long ago erased it from his memory and indulged in some revisionist history.
Sam had not forgotten.
So when Dean spun the laptop around and announced that there was no sign of Amara, but they maybe had a case in the meantime, the last thing Sam was expecting was for it to be the Jones sisters.
“Is that…?”
Dean nodded. He looked completely composed; the only clue that Dean also remembered what they’d done with the Jones sisters was the slight blush to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
“Wow, uh, okay. So, what… what’s happening?”
Sam’s head was spinning. Was this some insane coincidence? (Sam didn’t believe in coincidences; his entire life had taught him not to.) Or had Dean been keeping tabs on them all this time?
“Sounds like a simple ghost haunting. Are you, uh… are you up for it?”
That clinched it. Dean’s hesitation wasn’t about Amara; it was about Jessie and Julie, and what they’d done so long ago. Sam’s stomach had so many butterflies he lost his appetite for the bowl of cereal he’d just poured.
“If you think we can spare the time, I guess. I mean, yeah, sure. This is what we need, right? To get back into the game, not just sit here on our thumbs waiting.”
That’s what Sam had been saying; he needed to keep his story consistent.
“Okay, be ready in twenty,” Dean said.
Sam just stood at the table for a few minutes after his brother left the kitchen, wondering why this was making him so antsy. It was ancient history; seeing the Jones sisters again didn’t mean they’d all pick up where they left off. Hell, they were probably married with two kids each by now anyway.
* * *
They weren’t. When Julie opened the door, Sam was struck by the fact that she looked almost exactly the same, almost fifteen years later.
She narrowed her eyes at them for a minute, and then her mouth fell open.
“Sam? Dean?”
Dean chuckled, like he’d expected her to remember how hot he was or something.
“In the flesh,” he said, grinning.
“What… what are you doing here?”
“We were in the neighborhood,” Dean began, and Julie looked suspicious as soon as he said it, so Sam interrupted.
“We read the news story about the problem you’re having and thought maybe we could help. It’s… it’s kinda what we do.”
Julie looked even more incredulous.
“You’re, what? Law enforcement?”
Dean laughed out loud at that. “Oh, honey, we’re so far from law enforcement. That was no person who’s causing all those problems. And it’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
Julie didn’t bother denying it.
“It is. We had—this wasn’t in the paper, but yesterday, something… it pushed Jessie down the stairs, okay? It fucking pushed my sister down the fucking stairs, and she… she…”
Julie began to sob.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dean said, stepping forward and pulling Julie into a hug. To Sam’s surprise, she went easily, sniffling against his shoulder while Dean patted her back.
Sam had the irrational thought that Julie was supposed to be his. Or maybe the thought really was that Dean was supposed to be; he wasn’t sure.
“Come on in,” Julie said finally, pulling away from Dean and wiping at her eyes. She motioned them into the house. They walked through a comfortable-looking living room; overstuffed chairs, a large, striped couch. There were children’s toys on the floor and spilling out of a woven basket in the corner. So Sam had been right about the married-with-kids thing.
Julie led them to a sun porch off one side of the house.
“Hey, Jess, remember Sam and Dean? From Porter? That summer before graduation?”
Jessie was seated on a wicker couch, her leg propped up on the coffee table, ankle bandaged. Other than that, she, too, looked almost exactly the same. Her hair was still long and curly, though she’d pulled it up into a messy bun on top of her head.
“Oh my god,” Jessie said, and then smiled. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you…”
“They’ve offered to help with the—with that motherfucker who tried to fucking kill you!” Julie was fired up; Sam didn’t blame her.
“Shhhh, stop cursing in front of the kids,” Jessie scolded, and only then did Sam notice the two small children playing outside.
“They’re like 20 yards away,” Julie countered, but she was smiling.
“So you’re… visiting?” Dean asked, and Sam knew he was trying to work it out, same as Sam.
Julie smiled then, too. She leaned over the back of the couch to kiss her sister on the top of the head. “No, they live here. We all live here.”
Sam’s brain screeched to a halt. Surely they didn’t mean what it seemed like.
“If you’re gonna judge, you can leave right now,” Julie said, eyes narrowed again. “In fact, let me spell it out for you just to be sure. We live here, together. These are Jessie’s kids, father skipped town, divorce, yada yada. We live here together. Got it?”
Dean had gone pale, and was staring at Julie like she was speaking another language.
Sam forced himself to ignore the way his brain was going holyshit holyshit holyshit and nodded. “Got it, yeah. And we don’t judge. Do we, Dean?”
Dean didn’t look at Sam when he answered. “No, no, of course not. We just—we’re just here to help.”
“Okay then,” Julie said, and Jessie reached up to pat her sister’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. Sam watched Dean’s eyes track the motion, and his ears once again turn red.
* * *
It was one of the simplest salt-and-burns they’d ever had. Julie and Jessie had bought the house without knowing its violent and tragic history, and the ghost had thought it had easy pickings with the new owners.
Julie insisted they stay for dinner, and as soon as Dean got a look at the homemade cherry pie on the counter and the burgers and ribs Julie was pulling out of the refrigerator for the grill, there was no question as to their answer.
He had calmed down after their revelation, and now seemed more curious than anything. He still wasn’t looking at Sam, though.
“So you’re sure it’s gone?”
Dean nodded, his mouth full of a giant bite of burger (his second) with sliced onions, tomato, and a lake of ketchup piled on top. A trickle of juice ran down the side of his face, and Sam should have been thinking his brother was disgusting. He wasn’t.
“Oh, it’s gone,” Dean assured her, talking around his mouthful. He had a glob of ketchup on his chin and he looked ridiculously happy and Sam’s chest ached with how much he loved his brother.
“We don’t know how to thank you,” Jessie said.
The kids had finished and wandered back out to the yard to take advantage of Daylight Saving Time, and the rest of them were also done eating, so everyone was more or less watching Dean.
“No problem,” Dean said, muffled around his burger.
“Well, I could think of one way. For old time’s sake,” Julie said.
Dean made a choking sound and put his burger down. Time seemed to stand still as Sam’s brain spun in circles. She wanted to… they wanted to… like before? With him and Dean? Sam’s most secret fantasy, the one that had never gone away, not in over a decade.
He realized with a start that everyone was looking at him. Julie with an eyebrow cocked in invitation, Jessie shaking her head with a smile, and Dean pale and shocked, the only color on his face the bright-red ketchup on his chin.
Sam was frozen, unable to speak. What could he say? Yes, please, let’s do that; I’ve been waiting all these years to kiss my brother again? He didn’t know if Dean was frozen in shock or disgust, and he didn’t want to find out.
Jessie saved him. “Nah, she’s just kidding. We don’t do that anymore. We’re an old may-as-well-be-married couple now. Right, Jules?”
Julie laughed. “Can’t blame me for tryin’. You two were the hottest brothers we ever messed around with.”
“There were others?” Dean asked, seeming to finally find his voice. “Other… brothers?”
Jessie smiled at her sister. “We kinda had a thing for brothers.”
Sam looked over at Dean, who was still pretty pale.
“Pie?” Julie asked, holding out the delicious-looking confection.
Awkward moment or not, there was no chance Dean was walking away from pie.
They finished the meal with small talk, and then the sisters walked them out.
“Thanks again,” Jessie said, hugging them both. Julie did the same.
“So I guess we misjudged you, huh?” she said she opened the door. “We kinda thought you guys were like us.”
“Like you?” Dean asked, avoiding looking at Sam.
Sam’s stomach had gone into full butterflies mode again. Oh god. They knew? Had he been so obvious?
“You know,” Julie said. “We thought—I mean, it’s pretty clear you two put each other before everything else.”
Dean nodded mutely. Julie was looking at him, not at Sam.
“But it’s more than that, isn’t it? What you feel for each other. It’s more than that, right? I mean, we can see how…”
Jessie grabbed her sister by the arm and pulled her backwards, shaking her head. “Shhh, Jules, leave it. Let them work it out on their own time, okay? Stop trying to be an illegal matchmaker.”
“It’s not illegal,” Julie complained. “Or it shouldn’t be. Not like they’re gonna make two-headed babies…”
“Oh god,” Jessie said, shaking her head. “Sorry. She’s just trying to help… You two just, just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Dean nodded again and walked backwards through the door, almost falling down the two steps to the walkway.
“And keep loving each other,” Julie called over her sister’s shoulder, as Jessie shut the door. She was smiling, though, Sam could see that as the door closed.
The drive back to the bunker was going to set a new record of awkward, Sam thought as he climbed into the car. But at least Jessie had stopped her sister before she gave Sam away.
* * *
Four silent hours later, Dean abruptly pulled the Impala into a gas station in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t open, but the lights above the pumps and the neon CLOSED sign illuminated the gravel parking lot enough that Sam could see his brother’s expression. Dean’s lips were pursed, a muscle in his jaw working. His hands still gripped the steering wheel like he was preparing to try to hold a hairpin turn.
“What are you thinking?” Dean blurted out.
“Huh?” That was the most articulate thing Sam could say. He had no clue what was happening. Had Dean—ohgod, had Dean figured it out?
“I can hear your big brain going,” Dean went on, still not looking at Sam. “So spit it out.”
“Dean, I don’t know what you’re…”
That’s as far as he got before Dean whirled on him. “Don’t give me that, Sam; not now, okay? Just—just tell me, okay? Do you want out? Is that what you’re thinking? You realized that they’re right – about -- and you want to get the hell out of Dodge?”
“No, of course not,” Sam’s mouth said, because the thought of being away from Dean again for any reason made him want to puke, but his brain was stuck on “they’re right” and he couldn’t quite make the pieces fit together.
“Because if you do, look, I get it—I don’t blame you, okay? You just—you just gotta tell me, Sammy; you can’t just spring it on me, you gotta—you gotta give me some warning, okay?”
You can do this, Sam. Think. Think.
“You think I—you think I wanna leave because… because they… they were right?”
Dean put his head down on the steering wheel. He didn’t look angry anymore; he looked devastated. Ashamed.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry,” he said, muffled against the steering wheel. “I never—I would never.”
Holy shit. Holy shit.
Sam’s heart was beating so fast he felt dizzy. He wasn’t sure if it was terror or anticipation.
“But I would,” Sam finally said, and it came out a gruff whisper.
He reached across the seat and put his hand on Dean’s arm, and Dean startled at the touch.
“I would,” Sam repeated, emboldened. He slid his hand up to his brother’s shoulder, then further to touch the side of his face. Dean had a day’s growth of stubble there, rough against Sam’s fingers.
“Hey, look at me,” Sam said, and his index finger reached Dean’s mouth, brushed over his parted lips.
Dean finally turned his head. His eyes were wide, fearful. But they were moist, too, swirling with too many emotions to categorize.
“I’ve thought about it ever since that night,” Sam admitted. He didn’t know why he was still whispering. It felt too big to say out loud, all these things that had been secret for so long. “Thought about kissing you.”
Dean made a strangled sound, and his lower lip fell open beneath Sam’s finger. Sam could see his throat work as he swallowed.
“You should do it, then,” he said, voice as quiet as Sam’s. “You should…”
That’s all he was able to say before Sam leaned in and did it, just a brief brush of lips at first.
When he pulled back, Dean’s eyes were closed. His lashes, thick and dark, were wet.
“Okay,” Sam said, because maybe both of them needed to hear it. “Okay.”
Then he kissed Dean for real, hands cupping his brother’s face as they both opened up to it, eager.
Sam could hear every creak of the leather beneath them as they moved against each other, hands grasping at shirts and wandering over backs and shoulders. Dean got a handful of Sam’s long hair and tugged, and Sam moaned around Dean’s tongue in his mouth, fingers gripping the back of Dean’s neck and digging in, because Dean was his, after all this time, maybe all this time.
They made out like teenagers, in the parking lot, and Sam thought if this was all he could have, he could still die happy. His dick was hard and full, caught in the leg of his jeans, but he could live with that as long as he had Dean’s mouth on his, Dean’s hands in his hair and wrapped around his back like a vise, pulling him in.
“Tell me what you want, Sammy,” Dean urged, pulling away only to press more kisses to Sam’s neck and behind his ear. Sam shivered with the wetness, with the feel of Dean’s sharp teeth sliding along the vulnerable line of his throat. Dean’s other hand had slid down his back and to his waist, dipping beneath the belt to rest on the dimples there.
“Anything,” Sam answered, because it was true. “Everything,” because it was truer.
Dean squirmed against him, pushing Sam backwards with his eagerness, kissing back up to Sam’s mouth as they fell together onto the front seat. Sam’s head knocked against the door handle, and he banged his knee against the dashboard as he tried to make room between his legs for his brother. Dean’s dick was pressed against his own now and it felt incredible; Sam bucked up and Dean ground down and both of them groaned and did it again and again. Sam got both hands on Dean’s ass and dug his fingers in, pulling the rounded cheeks apart and rubbing over the seam, and Dean said, “Fuck, fuck,” and jammed his hands between them to fumble their jeans open. Sam didn’t try to help; there wasn’t room and he trusted his brother’s capable hands, which could take apart a gun or sew up Sam’s wounds and now could slip their belts and drag their zippers over swollen cocks until they were skin to skin and Sam fucking loved him, loved what he could do, loved who he was.
“Yesssss,” Dean hissed, and shoved his own jeans lower on his hips so Sam’s hands had free rein, no denim in the way. Sam shaped his fingers to Dean’s curves, rough when he pulled Dean’s cheeks apart again and got his finger in between. Dean’s dick was jerking and leaking against Sam’s; more when Sam pressed a fingertip inside. His hips worked frantically against Sam’s, the friction delicious, the lean muscle of Dean’s belly perfect for Sam’s cock to thrust against.
They kept kissing as they got close, Dean every now and then breaking away to curse and groan his pleasure—so loud, so fucking loud, and Sam remembered that, from those long-ago double dates.
“Sammy,” Dean ground out against his mouth, and his voice was ruined, “gonna, nghhh, gonna come, gonna make me come, little brother, gonna,” and that was it for Sam; he shoved his hips up hard and lost it, shooting all over Dean’s stomach and his own, barely aware of Dean doing the same until the spasms finally calmed and he could catch his breath.
Dean was still moving on top of him, lazily thrusting his dick through the mess on Sam’s belly and mouthing at Sam’s chin, no longer coordinated enough to manage an actual kiss.
“Dean,” Sam said, rubbing over Dean’s hole one more time to make him buck and shudder.
“Fuck,” Dean said again, and kissed Sam’s shoulder where his shirt was half pulled off to the side.
“Wanted to do that for a long time,” Sam said, so there would be no doubts.
Dean kissed him again, tenderly, on his chest. Then he went still and laid his head there. Sam could feel his own heart beating against his brother’s cheek.
“Didn’t think we should,” Dean said after a long silence.
Sam slid his hands around Dean’s waist, then up his back, rubbing slow circles there.
“Yeah, well, when has that ever stopped us?” he asked, hoping Dean would see the logic of it. Sam was sure it was logical.
Dean huffed, stretching his body like a big cat as Sam petted him. Sam could feel the stickiness between them and tried not to think about what a mess they’d be when they had to sit up.
Like he was reading Sam’s mind, Dean lay there for a few more minutes and then grunted and pushed himself to his hands and knees.
“Ewww,” he grumbled, trying to wipe the come off his shirt and pull up his jeans.
Sam glanced at Dean’s soft cock, because he could.
Dean glared at him. “You made a terrible mess.”
Sam propped himself on his elbows. His own pants were still open, and he saw Dean look, then look away. “I made a mess? I think that was both of us—and I’m wearing more of it than you, so shut up.”
Dean struggled backwards, trying to scoot past the steering wheel and reaching behind himself to open the door. He finally half fell out, and stood up to tuck himself back in.
Sam fumbled around the glove box and found a few crumpled paper towels to wipe himself off with before zipping up his own pants and buckling his belt.
He got out because Dean wasn’t getting back in, and walked around to the other side of the car where his brother was staring off into the distance.
“Dean?” Sam’s stomach was butterflying again. Was Dean regretting this? Had this been a terrible mistake? “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”
Dean seemed to snap out of it then. He gave Sam a smile that was almost shy and then leaned back against the car and looked up at the sky. It was a clear summer night, full of stars, the moon bright above them.
Sam stood next to him and looked up, too.
“All those nights we used to sit on the Impala and look at the stars,” Dean said. “I always wanted to do that, to lean over and kiss you.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Sam said, and he looked at Dean, because even with a sky like that, Dean was what Sam would always want to see.
Dean was smiling; just the corner of his mouth turned up, but Sam could tell. Sam slid his hand across the car’s smooth metal and tangled his fingers with his brother’s.
FIN
