Two men I barely know (Dean/Sam) NC-17

Two men I barely know (Dean/Sam) NC-17 PWPWC: 2170Dean is pissed off. Like, getting your ass handed to you by a wendigo pissed off. Only worse this time because it was an old woman who nearly killed them both."Fucking crones," Dean mutters, hating the way his boots slosh. Oh, if that old bitch ruined his shoes...Sam shakes the water out of his hair and Dean is all at once reminded of the boy Sam used to be and a stupid shaggy dog. The thought confuses him and he wonders if he hit his head going in the water after Sam."I didn't think she'd try to pull me under," Sam says. "Yeah, well, old women can't resist you. Even if they're evil and just want to eat the flesh off your bones.""Dude, don't be gross."There is water in my underwear, Dean thinks indignantly. We are past the gross stage."Dibs on the shower."Sam stops up short. "You can't call dibs on the shower before we even get there," he explains, trying to sound reasonable, all lawyer-like, but the effect is ruined by the fact that they're arguing over a shower, Sam's hair is plastered his face and Dean does not understand how he can see. Maybe, Dean thinks, the odd bit of freezing-water-induced-paranoia gripping him, maybe Sam has these extra powers that include being able to see through the most jacked-up hairstyles known to man.Then: I might have mud in my asscrack. God."I get the shower because I'm the oldest," Dean says and nearly sags with relief when he sees the car, unharmed and gleaming in the dull light. It's not the car that means that much to him, it's the feeling, as loath as he is to try to explain it. The car means they've lived through another day."Get a room," Sam mutters, slopping past Dean and heading towards the passenger side."What's your problem, man?""You act like you're happier to see the car unhurt than me."Dean feels gobsmacked and his droopy shorts aren't the reason. "You think I'm not happy you're okay?"Sam stops to look at Dean, leaning against the open door, face outlined by the car's interior lights. This is familiar, Dean thinks, and has another flash of Sammy from years ago: Pulled under by a water demon, body wrapped against his. Hold on to me, Sammy. You're okay. I'll keep your head above the water.Dean always liked school okay. Well, he really liked the school girls, but he hated English class when he realised words like wendigo and shtriga didn't exist. There weren't words to describe his life and he remembers thinking: If there aren't words to describe our life, then what kind of unspeakable things does that make us?Sam was always the one with the gift for words; he could bend them and manipulate them until they did what he wanted and Dean could only marvel at that. Because dad and him weren't so gifted. What couldn’t be expressed in words could only be shown in gruff gestures and soft touches."I'm sorry, man," Sam's saying. "I don't know-" He scrubs a weary hand over his face. "I know I matter to you. I'm just tired, I guess."Dean nods numbly. There is, this is - if Sam thinks Dean doesn't care about him, then he's failed. Sam's half of everything that ever mattered to Dean and now he's everything. His fingers are numb and he utters those unspeakable words he never thought he'd say: "Maybe you should drive."Sam's eyes widen almost comically. "I said I'm sorry, you know. Seriously, I'm just tired."Dean smiles at him - fake, like he does so often - and tosses him the keys. "I know, being nearly drowned is liable to make anyone bitchy."Sam catches the keys by sheer reflex and stares at them dumbly for a moment before rounding on Dean. "Are you okay?"Dean looks at Sam like he's crazy. "I've got mud in unmentionable places and we're having a talk about our feelings at three in the morning and you're asking me if I’m okay?"Sam lets out a breath, irritation etched across his face. "I was just asking.""Yeah, well. You don't need to," Dean says sharply and pushes past Sam. With his hand on the door, he thinks he almost got away with it, when Sam grabs him from behind and spins him around sharply, pushing him against the car door in one swift movement. "Nice try, asshole. Almost had me there." Sam is close, close enough for Dean to smell the filth on him and the cheap hotel soap beneath that. "I-" Dean starts but Sam cuts him off."Oh, shut up. You're so full of shit," Sam says and kisses him. It's dirty and not at all how he imagined kissing Sam would be, not soft lips and flowers, but teeth against his lip and harsh breaths. Hands fumble against his belt buckle and it's almost enough to make him step back, push Sammy away because this is so many shades of fucked up, but he doesn't. This may be wrong, but it doesn't feel wrong and Dean's always gone with his feelings, even the ones he was too afraid to do more than whisper. "Please," he hears himself murmur against Sam's lips as Sam's hand steals into his pants. Dignity, Dean thinks distantly. I must have had it once.But then he's not thinking at all because Sam's warm hands are wrapped around his cock and he doesn't care to think about how long its been since anyone touched him like this. Can't have been too long, but it feels forever ago, or maybe its just the immediacy of this. The now-ness that hums under his skin. "I need," Sam's saying, but doesn't seem to be able to get past the first words, where they stick in his throat. "I need.""What?" Dean asks and this is the truth and they both know it: that anything Sam needed, Dean would give him. It's scary. It's liberating. Dean might throw up at any minute.Yes, he thinks. Ask."I need you."Dean blames the fact that his brother's jerking him off for any momentary lapse into stupidity, though truth be told, that's probably what got them here in the first place."Got me, Sammy."Sam's shaking his head against Dean's shoulder. "Want you so bad."And that does bring up Dean short. He might not have a PhD in English, but he knows the difference between want and need. Need is what he has for Sam - this all-consuming fear that threatens to eat him alive if he doesn't keep it in check. Want is every cheap-ass offer he's had at a bar, hell, every offer he's made at a bar. It's a whole 'nother ballgame.But no isn't a word that's ever been in Dean's vocabulary, not with Sam.Want. So different from need. Dean had always thought need was what he wanted from Sam, but now he's facing the startling revelation that he doesn't know a damn thing. "Come on," Sam says in a gruff voice that Dean's never heard before. "Let me.""Yes," Dean replies against the salt of Sam's neck and means it, like he's never meant anything else. "Anything."Dean's sodden, wet jeans slide down his legs, the edges scraping against his skin and Sam tugs his jacket and shirt off. The air and cold metal behind him is a shock that goes through his whole body.Sam moves him over towards the hood of the car and this is every dirty dream Dean's even had, but in none of them was he the one getting fucked. Sam stops. "I don't have anything-""I do," Dean grunts. "Glove compartment, to the right."A smile nearly splits Sam's face. "You cocky bastard.""Pays to be prepared."Dean feels a more than little stupid while soggy and cold, standing stark-ass naked in the middle of the woods, but the expression Sam has on his face when he takes Dean in - devouring him with his eyes - is something Dean feels to his very toes."Come on," Sam says and pushes Dean onto the hood of the car. The cold presses up and envelopes him until all he can feel is the hot slide of Sam's hand against his back and over the curve of his ass. He shivers."You don't know what you look like, do you?"Dean can't answer. He nearly jumps out of his skin when the warm press of a tongue hits his back, tracing his spine and moving lower. He groans as Sam's tongue finds his ass and circles lazily. Obscene words explode from Dean's mouth, a litany of twisted letters and phrases that even his father might be shocked he knows. "You taste gross.""Thanks a lot," Dean mutters."No, I mean," Sam sounds apologetic, "the water.""Yeah, I know.""It was, it was sexy in my head."Dean wasn't prepared for this, not Sam, not any of it. His cock rubs against the rapidly warming car and even that little bit of friction feels good."Do it, Sam," Dean whispers, pleads. "Come on."Sam retreats, but only for a moment.When he returns, he practically lays his body over Dean's and the weight is incredible, the feel of being protected. Is this how I made you feel? Dean wonders, dazed."Come on, man, do it,” Dean urges to cover the fact that his stomach is in knots. He hasn't done this with a guy before, but his body screams for it, aches for it.Sam whispers soothing words in his ear and Dean would snap that he isn't a fucking woman, but this shit hurts.He runs soothing hands up and down Dean's back like he's calming a spooked animal, as he slowly enters him and Dean bites his lip to keep from making girly noises that he's just gonna have to deny later. Sam pushes Dean's leg up further to give him better access as he pushes into his brother. He leans forward, kisses the back of Dean's neck, then bites it."Aw, fuck," Dean groans."Okay?" Sam manages, stilling."Just get on with it," Dean grumbles, body hot and aching. He doesn't know how men do this, fuck, how women do this. His body feels like it's on fire, but it's kind of worth it to have Sam this close to him.“Just breathe.” Sam thrusts shallowly. "Jesus, so fucking tight," he groans amid inarticulate sounds. "That's because-" Dean starts, but a wicked little twist of Sam's hips cuts him off. Fucking hell, what was that?Sam hits it again and it's like his nerves sing with pleasure and the dull roar of pain recedes in the face of the overwhelming feeling of Sam inside him, making him feel this way. His knuckles curls against the cool metal, his dirty fingernails scratch at the paint. The sweat pouring off him is making it hard for Dean to keep his balance, but Sam's there behind him, holding his hips like a vise. There'll be bruises there come morning, but Dean doesn't much mind the thought of being marked by Sam.But being Dean, he can't go down without some kind of fight. He pushes back against Sam, taking him in as deep as he can, faster and faster. Sam bites his neck again, warm and sharp.Sam's hand works around to Dean's cock and he fists it roughly, too far gone in his own pleasure to do more than this for Dean, but it's enough. He comes against the hood of the car, mouth open in a silent groan and head thrown back against Sam. He hears the sharp intake of air behind him, then the feel of Sam coming, marking him inside and out. Dean hisses as Sam pulls out while pressing soft, sweaty kisses to the back of his neck. "We should probably get back," Dean manages after a few minutes."Soon," Sam murmurs sleepily against Dean, wrapping his arms around him. It's kind of girly, but okay, Dean figures, since really hot sex was just had. Still, it's...nice. Kind of.Figures Sam would be a cuddler anyway. Dean almost doesn't hear it, he's so wrapped up in his own stupid thoughts."Love you, Dean."That wasn't really what this was about, him needing to know Sam loved him. It was supposed to be the other way around, but sometimes, Dean figures, you get something you didn't even know you needed.This is also familiar, their bodies curled in on one another. He thinks of the water demon so long ago, of saving Sam, then realizes like so many things, he’s remembering it all wrong. The water demon had tried to pull Dean under and Sam had been the one to save him. Even at that age, with all his long limbs, Sam was the better swimmer.Hold on to me, Dean. You're okay. I’ll keep your head above the water.