Spn: I'm Keeping You in Sight - Sam/Dean -

[withimpunity]

Title: I'm Keeping You In Sight
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Sam = 17, Dean = 21
Prompt: "Hard for " spn_25
Words: 2059
Disclaimer: All your Sam and Dean are belong to Kripke.
Title: Damn right, R.E.O. ;)


"Are you even listening to me?" Dean snapped as he spun around, slipping his arm around Sammy's waist before tossing him to the ground. "See? You left yourself wide open."

He hovered over Sam's body as he gasped and choked for air, figuring it probably got knocked out of him good when he hit the ground, but Sammy could take it. He wasn't going to get any sympathy from Dean, not today. Two days until he and Dad were taking Sammy out with them to hunt down a liche and he had to be ready. Dad said these things were damn keen and tricky as hell. Dean had to know that Sammy was fully prepared for anything that came his way, or he'd be too worried about keeping Sammy safe and screw up the whole job. Then Dad would be pissed and everything would go to hell.

"Yeah, I'm listening," Sam finally rasped out, kicking Dean off of him with two feet planted firmly in his gut. Dean flew back, knocking his head on a rock when he hit the ground hard, still smiling despite the blood he could feel trickling down his neck.

'Good one, Sammy," He commended his brother, reaching around to feel thick crimson coat his fingers, wiping it on the front of his jeans in streaks.

"Dean," Sammy's eyes grew wide when he realized he'd hurt him and started to walk toward his brother, ducking just in time to miss the fist Dean's threw at him.

"I'm fine," Dean growled, dodging the elbow Sammy had meant to throw into his ribs. "Keep tryin, baby bro."

"Don't," Sammy snarled, sweeping his leg around to knock Dean back to the ground. "Call me that." Dean sprang up before Sammy could react and the sole of Dean's boot hit him square in the chest, knocking him back a few feet. Dean was there before he could get up, pinning Sammy to the ground with his legs as he held his wrists tightly over his head.

"Dammit, Sam," He cursed, frustration thick in his tone. "You leave yourself too vulnerable! You're going to get yourself hurt. Or killed!"

"I can take care of myself," Sammy said when the air finally returned to his lungs. "Fighting demons is different than fighting my brother, Dean."

"It shouldn't be!" Dean bit out angrily. "Hit me, Sammy. Give me everything you've got. I've got to know you can do this." And he did. He wouldn't be able to believe that Sammy could do the job until he saw it with his own eyes, felt it in the bruises and soreness in his bones the next day.

"Fine," Sammy snapped, suddenly twisting his arms out of Dean's grasp, elbowing him once in the ribs, then in the nose, flipping them over so that he was the one on top now, Dean pinned beneath him with wide eyes and short of breath.

"That was...good," he panted, eyes watering in the corners from the throbbing pain in his nose. He squirmed under Sam's grip, trying to wrench his arms free, but damn, Sam had gotten a heck of a lot stronger when he wasn't looking. He could pull the same stunt Sammy had just pulled on him, but he wouldn't. This was about seeing if Sammy could handle himself, and he wasn't about to hurt his little brother for no reason.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, fingers still digging in to the sensitive spot inside Dean's wrists. "So you think I can handle myself now, Dean?"

"I don't know," Dean smirked, "You could always use a few more hours of practice."

"Hours," Sam groaned and flopped onto him, and that's when Dean felt it, Sammy's hard-on digging into his thigh as he breathed on his neck. Dean's eyes rolled in the back of his head and for a moment he felt dizzy, almost drunk, as he realized what this meant.

"Sam," He mumbled. "Hey Sammy, you can get off me now, dude."

"I don't want to," Sammy said and his voice was lower now, his breathing more steady and relaxed as his lips moved against Dean's neck.

Oh god. Oh hell. This was so fucked up. They were so fucked up. Sammy, his baby brother, was hard, apparently for him, and he wasn't even trying to hide it. He wanted Dean to know and from the way his voice sounded, he wanted more than that. Oh god.

"Dean," Sammy whined next to his ear, moving his body against Dean's so that Dean could feel his erection brush against his own - oh god, his own? When had he gotten hard? Holy crap this couldn't be happening; he could not be hard for his brother. "Please, Dean."

Hell. He was going to hell.

"Please what, Sammy?" He asked, even though the words felt dry and wrong on his tongue like they didn't belong. "Tell me what you want."

"You," Sammy whimpered, pushing his hips down against Dean's. "Please."

"Oh God," Dean said out loud this time, gripping Sammy's hips to keep him from doing that again, because Dean was pretty sure if he did he was going to lose his mind. "Touch you?" Dean asked, realizing he'd forgotten a couple of words in all the rushing of blood below his belt, shaking his head to get things jump started. "Do, do you want me to touch you, Sammy?"

Sammy nodded emphatically, the prickly beginnings of facial hair scratching against Dean's jaw, the sensation going straight to his erection, making it pulse against his zipper almost painfully. He reached between them, the back of his knuckles grazing against his own cock, both relieving and making him harder as he fumbled with Sammy's belt.

"God," Sammy moaned as Dean's fingers curled around his throbbing, hot flesh, stroking him off the same way he did when he touched himself, only backwards. He felt Sammy's precome drip onto his fingers as he jerked him off, going nearly blind with his own painfully hard arousal.

"Dean," Sammy whined, moving his hips eagerly now along with Dean's pumping fist, thrusting into Dean's hand as he breathed hot and sticky on his neck. "So...good. Oh God, I'm, Dean-"

Sammy made a choked, sobbing sound in the back of his throat when he came, spurting white and hot between Dean's fingers and all down the front of his jeans and boxers. Dean took advantage of Sammy's moment of weakness and yanked his other hand out of Sammy's grasp, grabbing him by the shoulder to flip him over onto his back. His mouth crushed Sammy's, rough and bruising, as he ground their hips together, gasping and moaning at the friction, at how sweet Sammy's mouth tasted, like chocolate and rootbeer, coming with a sudden, startled cry.

He felt Sammy's sweaty-sticky fingers curl around his neck when he fell forward, the grass beneath them tickling his nose as he slumped on top of his brother. He couldn't believe what he'd just done, couldn't believe Sammy'd let him, let alone wanted him too. He still had the taste of Sammy in his mouth, sweet on the tip of his tongue, and wasn't likely to forget it soon either. He thought, as the tips of Sammy's fingers brushes the ends of his hair, that he should probably feel sick or something. He kissed his brother for Christ's sake. It would've been one thing if they'd just jerked off and forgot about the whole thing, but he'd actually kissed Sammy. On the damn mouth. He'd felt Sammy's tongue slide around his, felt him moan deep in his throat when Dean pushed his tongue deeper, grinding against him. There was something about kissing that was way worse than giving his baby bro a quick and dirty handjob.

"That was weird," Dean muttered, laughing nervously as he rolled off of Sam. He laid on his back on the thick grass, joining Sam as he stared up at the clouds, feeling slightly gross from she sticky mess he'd just made in his jeans.

"Are you mad?" Sam bit his lip, stealing glances of Dean out of the corner of his eye, finding it hard to look straight at him. Don't be such a girl, Dean wanted to say, but decided to bite his tongue. Sam looked genuinely worried, so much that it almost pissed him off. How could he think he'd be mad at him for that?

"Nah," Dean said, reaching over to ruffle his brother's shaggy, unkempt hair. "Wouldn't suggest using that method with the liche though."

"Oh ha ha," Sam snorted, slugging Dean in the arm as he laughed. "I'm gonna be fine, you know."

Dean didn't say anything at first, watching two clouds drift together to make one giant, oblong shape, then shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Just follow my lead and you'll be fine."

Sam smiled crookedly and hopped up. "I call dibs on first shower!"

Dean hung back a minute before chasing after him wondering how Sammy could be so comfortable with everything. What just happened was really fucked up and Sammy was still looking down at him from the balcony, sticking his tongue out like a little kid, like nothing had changed. It broke his heart a little thinking about it; the kind of life Sammy'd grew up in, hell, he probably didn't even think what they did was wrong. Everything about their life so far had been so completely fucked up, Sammy didn't know which way was up anymore. He was just clinging to whatever he had and he knew that when everything else went to shit, he still had Dean.

"You're slow!" He heard Sam call out the rickety balcony. "And I used all the hot water!"

Dean flipped up his middle finger and Sam returned with two of his own before cackling and disappearing behind the sliding glass doors.

***

When they returned from hunting the liche, Dean brought Dad the bottle of whiskey and a glass, helped him bandage the wounds on his head and leg, then went to his room to check on Sammy. His eyes roamed over Sam curled up body, appraising his injuries; black eye, busted lip, deep red scratches up and down the inside of his arms, probably a sprained ankle to boot. He lowered himself on the bed next to Sam, pressing a warm cloth to an open wound on his forehead.

"You did good, Sammy," his voice was gentle like his touch, dabbing at the dried blood on Sammy's skin.

"I got my ass handed to me, Dean," Sam muttered into his pillow. "Dad's gonna kill me."

"He's not," Dean replied, his words soft and muted. "You lived. Liche didn't. Everything worked out fine."

"Thanks," Sam muttered hoarsely, turning his sore face to look up at Dean. "For back there."

Dean looked down into Sammy's glossy brown eyes, all puffy and swollen, and suddenly he was back in the forest.

Struggling in the zombie's grasp, screaming Sam's name as long, skeletal fingers curl around his neck, choking the life out of him. His voice goes hoarse as Sam's lips turn blue and his eyes roll into the back of his head. Sam's going to die and there's nothing he can do it about. There's a deafening 'bang!' and suddenly he's free and Dean lunges, drop kicking the son of a bitch off of Sam. Silver blade straight through the heart, salt and burn the bones. Sammy lives, that liche motherfucker burns in hell.  

He didn't even realize he was kissing Sam until he felt Sammy's long fingers on the back of his head, pulling him closer, down onto the bed with him.

"Can't, Sam," He murmured against Sammy's lips, something different about them this time, more salty than sweet, and that's when he realized Sammy'd been crying and goddammit, who cared about right and wrong anymore. In the world they knew, filled with evil and demons and an apocalypse around every turn, they didn't have time for ethics. If this was what they needed, they were taking it.  If their dad had taught them anything, it was that life was too damn short and you had to live hard and love even harder. Dean cradled Sammy's swollen, bruised face in between his hands and kissed him, showing Sammy that was exactly what he intended to do.

Comments

[keldjinfae-moon.livejournal.com]

You already know my thoughts on the future connection between the training scene and Croatoan *sniffles*, and Dean is very much in character throughout this whole piece, what with his Deanfensive Deanisms and all.

Much love to your addition to the Wincest movement! I shall now start working my Heroes/Supernatural crossover into my long list of stories to write over the next few months. Just waitin' for a Writing Wednesday...