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Sam had dreams like these every once in a while.
Dreams where everything moved in slow motion; dreams where the world was warm and smooth, like caramel and spun sugar.
Sam would ride on the waves of laziness, warmth curling up into heat, niceness turning into pleasure.
Sam never expected the dreams. Sam never really had to chase the feelings.
They just happened.
Sam could tell he was in a dream, but he didn’t care enough to do anything about it.
He was flying--hovering, more like, bouncing slowly over a lazy river. It was spring or summer, somewhere in the midwest or the south, and every time Sam bounced somewhere new, heat curled into his body. Wriggling south, finding a home between his legs, harding his clit, growing it into a flower bud, ready to bloom, pent up with energy.
His whole body was centered and focused into that one perfect spot, a part of him that grew and twitched and shivered and felt so damn good.
This dream was different.
The heat didn’t just wrap around Sam’s clit like usual, giving him pulses of thigh-clenching pleasure. It pushed inward, sneaking down past his clit to a place he hadn’t touched all that much before, except to use its wetness.
The pleasure moved inside him, exploring, pushing up, expanding inside him, and it was brand new. It was a new kind of pleasure, wrapping seamlessly with the other waves of feelings.
Sam’s body moved in time with it, and he felt his heart speed up as the pleasure burned almost too brightly. He bore down on the feeling, on what was petting him so softly inside, and the waves of pleasure rose into a tsunami, capsizing him.
It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. It was crazy. It stole his breath. It made his muscles weak, his eyelids set to fluttering.
He wanted to laugh or giggle, or scream or moan.
He hadn’t known he was capable of feeling that good.
The pleasure calmed down, waves returning to their gentle susurrus. Sam came down from the high, floating back into the cotton candy softness of the dream world.
And then he floated out of that, too, a bed forming under his back, the stale air from the motel AC blowing over his collarbone.
He woke up in bits and pieces, his clit still twitchy, legs splayed apart.
And there was a weight in between them.
And something inside him.
The confusion made Sam’s eyes blink open slowly, a frown forming on his lips. He yawned, the blurry, hazy world coming into focus above him.
He stared up at Dean’s chin. Dean was biting his lip, eyes closed. He was moving, in an even rhythm.
A rhythm that matched the wet sound Sam heard, and the feeling of something moving inside him.
A little more alert, Sam lifted his head and looked down. He was completely naked, his pajamas thrown off, the comforter tossed aside. And he watched what he could see of Dean’s cock disappearing in and out of his pussy.
Sam took in a sharp, hitched breath, and Dean’s eyes flew open. He looked down at Sam, stuttering in his thrusts for only a second.
Dean kept fucking into Sam even as their shocked eyes met for what felt like ages.
Finally, Sam snapped out of it. He shifted, trying somehow to worm his way out of Dean’s arms, but there was nowhere to go. “Dean,” he said, trying for firm--trying for something--but it came out as more of a whine.
Dean put a hand on Sam’s hip, squeezing the flesh there. “Hush, Sammy,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut again.
Sam was filled with a sudden, fiery indignation. “Stop!” he growled, sitting up on his elbows. He put a hand on Dean’s chest to push him off, but Dean was faster. Dean yanked Sam’s arms above his head, pinning them there.
“You don’t even know how good it can feel,” Dean said breathlessly, looking down at Sam. “You never use your pussy. Just wait a bit, yeah? I can make it good for you.”
“Dean--”
“Shh. I can make it good. I can make it good.”
Sam swallowed, throat thick. With what, he didn’t know. He struggled to parse through his emotions, flipping through shock, horror, fear, anger, betrayal, indignation, embarrassment.
Dean sped up his pace. His thumb pressed into Sam’s clit, which had begun swelling again thanks to Dean’s cockhead rubbing against Sam’s insides.
Sam squirmed, but the more he tried to escape the sensations, the more intensely Dean worked at them. If Sam rocked back, Dean rocked with him, sending a startling jolt of deep pleasure up through Sam’s cunt.
Sam was wetter than he’d ever been, and the noises were loud and nasty. Dean seemed intent on burrowing his way into Sam, fucking harder, rougher, deeper.
All at once Sam’s second orgasm hit him, coming from the clit and deep inside his pussy, and Dean fucked him all the way through it without stopping. It was too sensitive, it was too much, but Dean never stopped, even as every muscle in Sam’s body spasmed and noises came out of his throat uncensored.
“See?” Dean whispered in Sam’s ear. He nipped at Sam’s jaw. “God, you’re so fuckin’ soft and wet and tight. You were made for this. Just lemme cum, sweetheart. Like a good little brother, ‘kay?”
Sam couldn’t help it. He shivered at Dean’s words.
He’d never thought about Dean… like this. Dean was his brother.
And he’d never thought Dean thought about him like this.
Sure, Dean talked about pussy constantly, about sex, about all the girls he’d fucked. But all he ever did was tease Sam for being a nerd or a geek. He’d never given any indication he wanted to fuck Sam.
Sam watched Dean. This Dean was uncensored. His eyes were unfocused, welled up with mindless pleasure. The muscles in his abdomen flexed. His cock, where it was sinking into Sam’s body, was shiny wet with slick.
“Dean,” Sam whispered again, but not in protest.
Dean looked down at him. Their eyes met.
Dean clocked the desire in Sam’s eyes, the new, unlocked feelings of lust, and moaned. “Fuck, Sammy,” Dean grunted. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna paint your insides.”
Sam should’ve known Dean would be a dirty talker. Sam shivered. He tented his legs, raising his knees, and they didn’t even need to speak. Dean grabbed him by the thighs, yanking him closer, and Sam wrapped his legs around Dean’s midsection holding on tight.
The new angle was deep, and every time Dean fucked into Sam, he hit a sensitive, eye-rolling, sweat-inducing spot. Sam moaned, mouth falling open as Dean rutted into him.
Sam had never thought about this before.
But now he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to stop thinking about it.
It was so good.
It felt like his pussy was made to swallow Dean’s cock.
That thought sent Sam over the edge and into his third orgasm, his muscles locking up, bearing down on Dean’s cock. Dean let out a pained gasp, leaning forward to bite and suck at Sam’s collarbone as he rabbit fucked mindlessly into Sam, blindly seeking pleasure, seeking release, his hipbones snapping against Sam’s thighs.
There were so many noises.
Dean froze for a second, then two, then fucked deep into Sam, holding there, trembling. Sam could feel the cum filling him up and leaking out of his pussy around Dean’s shaft. Dean stayed there for as long as he could, pulsing the cum as deep into Sam as possible.
After an impossibly long moment, he pulled out, slowly, shakily. The cum spilled out of Sam, dripping down his taint and onto the sheets. There was so much of it, he could tell. Dean had filled him up with it.
He lay there, panting, wet, covered in filth, naked. He’d just been fucked by his brother. Dean had just come inside him.
And he was not dreaming.
After taking some time to come back to his senses, Sam looked over at Dean.
Dean had rolled over and lay on his back next to Sam, their sweaty thighs stuck together.
Dean was still so much bigger than Sam. Sam was sure he was going to catch up one day, but for now, Dean was more than a foot taller than Sam and just as broad. Sam would have had to fight dirty to get out of Dean’s gasp.
Dean’s cock lay on his thigh, still thick, but softening, now. It had a big, fat head, and wiry, dark hairs around the base. His balls were huge.
Sam had never really thought about sex before. He’d had his candy land wet dreams, sure, and had touched his clit before, but he’d never gone further than that. He’d never looked at someone and gotten aroused or wanted to have sex with them. He’d never watched porn.
Now, though, he openly ogled Dean’s cock. It was perfect: the perfect size and shape to slot into Sam, to give him pleasure. It was veined and hairy, and looked soft to the touch.
That had been inside him. That had rubbed and rubbed and rubbed at his pussy until it had convulsed, shooting cum into him.
He looked up into Dean’s eyes and found Dean watching him back. Sam wanted to look away, but he didn’t.
He’d always been the overly analytical one, the overthinker, whereas Dean moved more on instinct, moved more with his heart.
What should he say? What was there to say? What came next? What about Dad?
“God, look at you,” Dean said, breaking the silence. He smirked. “I broke you.”
The little brother in Sam could not let that stand. “You did not,” he protested.
Dean smiled. “Come on,” he said. “How many times was that? Three? You ever come before?”
Sam blushed, going hot again.
Dean’s smile darkened. “Jesus christ,” he swore. “That was your first time?”
Sam nodded.
Dean reached over, hand running down Sam’s belly. “Good.”
That feeling was coming back, that heat, that knot begging to be unraveled deep inside Sam. But Sam still had so many unanswered questions. “Dean--”
“I know what you’re thinkin’, and hush,” Dean said. “Don’t go all geek brain on me.”
Before Sam could protest, Dean was getting up, levering that muscled, freckled body over Sam.
He kissed Sam once, briefly. Sam closed his eyes. Sam waited impatiently for Dean’s cock to enter him, but it never happened.
He opened his eyes, and found Dean sinking lower, lower, until his head was between Sam’s skinny legs.
Sam’s heart racketed around in his chest.
Dean locked eyes with Sam, slowly leaning forward until Sam could feel Dean’s hot breath against his pussy. That brief, fleeting sensation was enough to get Sam’s clit to harden, the slick already oozing out of him.
Dean kissed Sam on the clit, then on the opening to his pussy. When Dean came back up, his lips were shiny.
Sam lost all track of time after that. Dean kissed him all over--on the clit, on his labia, on the crease of his thighs. The kisses grew deeper, dragging Dean’s lips and stubble over Sam’s sensitive flesh. Soon a tongue joined along, sweeping across Sam’s pussy.
Dean’s jaw locked onto Sam and he tongue fucked up into Sam while his fingers rubbed and circled his clit with expert ease. It was too much, it was too fast, and Sam was getting loud, whimpering and grunting again, his body shaking, tears leaking from his eyes without his permission. Overstimulation turned him into an animal, seeking only release.
Dean wrung another orgasm out of him, and then fucked him with his cock. Dean’s second orgasm was dry, but it took a lot out of him, and he rolled onto his back beside Sam again, panting.
They couldn’t stay here forever. They couldn’t do this all day.
But god, Sam wanted to.
Sam glanced at Dean, watching Dean come back down to earth. With a sigh, Dean levered himself upright, checking the clock on the side table.
Sam knew what that meant. It was time to come back to reality.
Dean stood, tugging his boxers up over his flaccid cock. He glanced back at Sam. “I’ll make breakfast. Can you look through that file Dad sent?”
Sam nodded wordlessly. He got up, changing into sweats and a t-shirt.
He did as Dean asked. He did it so well he’d marked the relevant case information and forwarded it on to Bobby within thirty minutes. He ate his spaghettios without complaint and even cleaned the dishes.
Dean made a call or two after that, even went down to the laundromat, but there was only so much he could occupy his time with.
“Dad’s not coming back today, is he?” Sam asked when Dean came back inside.
Dean looked over at him, his expression indecipherable. “No.”
Usually, Sam would feel disappointed. He’d feel angry at his family for being so fucked up.
But now, all he felt was smug.
He pushed Dean onto the couch hard enough to punch the breath out of Dean’s lungs. Then, he yanked off his sweatpants and undies and crawled into Dean’s lap.
Dean’s gaze was wary even as his hands came up to hold onto Sam’s little waist. “Sammy…”
“Are you gonna say no?” Sam challenged.
Dean grinned. “What the hell kind of monster did I make?” he asked.
“An impatient one,” Sam shot back.
Dean shook his head, pretending to be annoyed, but less than a minute later, his cock was inside Sam, and Sam was riding him.
Sam knew that this would only end poorly, that they were on a swift ride to hell.
All it did was make him crave it more, yearn for the connection while he still had it.
He spent that evening burning his knees on the shitty motel carpeting as tried to suck Dean’s cock for the first time. It was too big, and he could only manage some kitten licks and nuzzling, but he had time to practice. He would have enough time to learn how to swallow it whole.
Sam had always pulsed with a need for Dean, an indescribable connection that pulled them together. Now, though, that connection was heat and fire and slick, centered in between Sam’s pussy lips.
Dean carried him to bed that night with his cock still inside Sam, and Sam knew he’d wake up the same way.
He slept deeply that night for the first time in months, with only one thought on his mind:
That they needed a video camera, and toys.
If this was going to send Sam to hell, he was at least going to master it, and master Dean.