Title: The Voice of Truth
Rating: Mature
Author: ilikecrystals
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: A serial killer forces Sam to reveal his true feelings for Dean. Wincest/Slash/Frottage/Lots of kissing

A/N: I found this on my flash drive, it was originally written for Live Journal's Big Bang but I didn't get it finished in time. Hope you enjoy and second chapter coming soon.

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Sweet singing in his ears.

Pulling him from darkness, a familiar tune but he can't place it and he surfaces slow, the melody surrounding him, should be soothing but it's not, it's-

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

Filling him with dread, his balls tightening with fear, drawing up and the blood shoots to his limbs because he needs to get the fuck out of here-

Not safe, not safe-

Heart thumping against his ribs, he comes awake with a jolt, fighting the weight holding him down, can't see-

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored,

He's blinking furiously, trying to catch a glimpse of light, holy shit, is he fucking blind? And something rustles and he squints his eyes, the shift of cloth over his lashes has him gasping with relief.

Just blindfolded, thank Christ-

He has loosed the fateful lightening of His terrible swift sword

He tastes the bitter fabric in his mouth, shoved deep between his teeth, cutting into his cheeks, it's tied on so tight and he growls around it, his voice a rusty scratch on leather, "Who-who are you?" and his words are garbled, mumbled around the gag.

But he knows. It's the one they've been hunting.

The memory is foggy, distant. He'd been asking questions, doing research and then, on the ground, he'd seen-

He hears the metal clanking against metal, smells the copper scent of blood heavy in the air and he thrashes against his binds.

"Who the fuck are you?" he screams and the melody never falters, never ends-

His truth is marching on.

#

Sam's the one who found the case.

Murders in a small town, sudden and vicious, and the police have no leads, no suspects and now the taxpayers are getting anxious, talking to the media about clueless cops and inept mayors, needing resolution, salvation-

All the while waiting in grisly anticipation for the next body to show up, the next confession, the next prey-

The victims are snatched in the night, no witnesses, no clues, and then, a few hours later, a small package, string-tied in brown paper, delivered to the one person who will be most hurt by it-

It holds a confession…of a secret so terrible, so deep and dark, the victim needs to be drugged with truth serum before they will give it a voice, reveal it-

Once the secret is public, the victim turns up dead twenty-four hours later, a cross slashed into their chests, hearts gouged through, bleeding them out-

But that's not the worst. Nope, the worst comes after their hearts are pumping out their life's blood, after they're watching themselves die-

The sick fuck cuts out their tongues, slices through them nice and neat and places them in a chosen spot, a meaningful spot-

Sending a message.

It's the tongue mutilation that catches Sam's attention, pointing towards some sort of supernatural ritual, a demon summoning or a sacrificial offering to some dark god…and he'd talked Dean into the five hour drive to check it out.

"But Sam, they're having that Elvis Festival in Lake George. Elvis. Dude, we totally have to check that out."

"Dean, the festival isn't going on for another week. We can totally swing by this place, solve the case, kill the big bad and be back up there in plenty of time to see the stupid Elvis impersonators."

Dean considers, hemming and hawing before he makes a deal, "Man, if I do this, then you have to dress up like Elvis with me…I'm talking slicked back hair and black leather pants…you've already got the sideburns for it-"

"Dean, come on-"

"Them's the terms. Take it or leave it."

Sam pulls in a suffering breath, "Ok. Okay. I'll do it. But I get to wear Dad's jacket."

"Deal breaker, Sam."

"The jacket or it's no deal."

"Blue suede shoes and you get the jacket."

"Done." And Sam reaches out to pump Dean's hand, Dean chortling like an idiot and rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"I am so gonna take pictures, Sammy."

"Fuck you, Dean. Let's go."

#

FBI Agents Sam Hagar and Dean Anthony introduce themselves to the local sheriff who barely glances at the ID badges flashed, so eager for help he stutters and stumbles in his haste to tell them all-

Each tape starts the same, he tells them, the darkened room, the high-pitched voice laughing and singing, the camera hitching and jerking around the room until it lands on something solid, the click of bright light and the poor victim, blinking and squinting, gagged and tied to a chair, fear pulsing out of their eyes as they stare at their killer-

The IV line is already in place.

The gag is removed and the request comes, "Tell me the truth."

If they refuse, a clear fluid is injected into their IV line by a gloved hand and gradually their words slur and stumble, hysterically giggling one second and crying the next, emotions on overload, their eyes wander and roll, glassing over, head lolling back like their necks don't work anymore-

And all the while, that voice, calmly patient works at them, at their minds, asking for the truth, quoting bible versus, telling them they'll be free if they just tell the truth-

Eventually, they break, screaming out their secrets with shining eyes and drooling mouths, unable to resist that insidious voice or the drugs pumping through their blood.

The killer's voice, sing-song and whispery, tells them how well they did, how they're whole and complete now, clean and ready for heaven-

Fucking Jesus freak.

Dean shoots a disgusted look at Sam who just shrugs and shakes his head. They're both thinking the same thing, that Sam is wrong about the supernatural slant and that it's just a crazy-ass human doing this shit because demons don't give a crap about anyone's soul being cleansed.

Well, they're here now so they might as well see this through.

And, Dean smiles inwardly, this is gonna make seeing Sam in blue suede shoes and black leather even sweeter because now he owes Dean big time and big brother's gonna rub this in for months.

#

He feels the swab of cold, smells the alcohol and then the sting of a needle jabbing into his vein-

"Ahhh, fuck!" It hurts like a bitch and there's fumbling, the rip of tape and then a warm burning up his arm-

The swoon in his head is instant, his voice far away and fuck, sounds funny and he's giggling, not so scary now, it's just relaxed and kinda nice, his muscles are loose and pliant and he doesn't have to fight anymore, just can relax and rest-

Hands tug at the blindfold and bright light sears into his brain, stabs his eyes and he's squinting, scowling against it because fucking hurts, it's blinding-

"Tell me the truth."

The voice floats through the air towards him and he tries to see, tries to focus past the white but can't see a fucking thing-

"What're you-"

"Tell me the truth!"

"What truth? I don't know any truth!" Sam shouts back and shakes his head, confused and freaking loopy as all hell, his brain sloshing and whirling around in his skull and shit, he can't get his balance-

"Tell me the truth about your brother-"

"Dean? What do you want with Dean?"

"I don't want anything but the truth. You want him."

"What? What the fuck are you-"

"I know. I've seen the way you look at him. You want him, like a brother shouldn't want a brother."

Oh, shit.

"No, I. Listen, y-you got it all wrong, all wrong, he's my brother-" Sam is protesting, fighting against the dizziness that's sliding through his head, trying to focus on what's happening here and now and there's no way this asshole knows what's in his heart, no fucking way-

"Doesn't matter what he is. You want him anyway. You want to lay with him, like a woman lays with a man, you want to fuck him."

"No. NO!" Absolutely not, he won't admit, can't tell, can't ever fucking tell-

That he loves Dean more than life and laying with him, being with him, is all he wants in the whole fucking world-

#

It was the summer Sam turned fifteen that he fell in love with his brother.

He remembers it had been so hot, he could barely breathe with it and so fucking dry the ground cracked and ached for rain, dust kicking up just by looking at it and there'd been warnings in the news about matches and campfires, brushfires everyone's greatest fear. Hell, if a fire ever did start, it'd go up like kindling and most of the town would just have to bend over and kiss their asses goodbye 'cause there'd be nothing left, no way to stop it.

They'd been in Arizona, in a motel that had a cabins instead of rooms, a pool (thank Christ) and a temperamental air conditioner that worked when it wanted to but usually didn't.

He and Dean had taken to wearing next to nothing in the heat, just staying in their swim shorts all day and hanging at the pool while they waited for Dad to come get them.

They were always waiting for Dad.

It had been one of the best times of his life, just him and Dean, having fun, splashing in the pool, lounging in front of the TV as long as they wanted, and glutting themselves on junk food, soda pop and beer.

The cement around the pool was so hot it scorched the feet, and the asphalt driveway you had to cross to get to it sizzled in the blinding heat of day, so hot your vision wavered and blurred just above it and you could pop the tar bubbles with a poking toe for fun.

The air smelled like sulfur and exhaust, downwind of the business district but every once in a while, a sweet breeze would cut through, someone's flowers or laundry hanging out to dry and it'd catch the nose by surprise, make you inhale deep with the sudden fresh.

At night, it was quiet peace, the crickets and cicadas buzzing pleasant, replacing the sound of horns blaring and motors gunning, and the stench of the day would be blown away by the cool night wind, a delicious blessing after the melting scorch of sun.

He and Dean would sit on the front steps of their cabin, shivering in the sharp breeze, drinking and dreaming, making plans of how their lives were gonna be when they stopped hunting.

It was then, in the quiet breeze of summer, head filled with the sounds of night, that he'd fallen in love with his brother.

It was soft at first, sliding in under his radar and catching him unawares, off guard and wide opened, and left him fucking gasping with the knowledge of it.

He'd watch Dean in the moonlight, staring out at the future, a relaxed smile on his mouth as he told Sam his dreams, how he wanted to start his own garage, how he wanted to design and create the fastest, most fuel efficient engine ever and how he'd have to go to school for it but that was just to get the credentials. He already had most of the blueprint for it mapped out in his head, he just had to get it down on paper.

Then he'd look at Sam and say, "I'll make enough money with that so that you and me can find a house, settle in finally and not have to move around ever again. I could send you through college and you could be whatever you wanted. Would you like that, Sammy?"

And Sam would nod, eyes wide, yes, because right at that moment, he'd wanted nothing more than to stay with his brother forever and the flood of emotions that hurtled through his chest choked his breath and stole his voice, making speaking impossible but Dean would understand, reaching up to ruffle his hair softly and then hugging him close.

Except one night, the hug had felt…different.

Warmer than usual and Dean's grip was so tight, he'd felt the tingle immediately, snaking through his belly like a rattler, the heat flicking down his back and legs as soon as Dean touched him, a thrill of something sharp and raw and what the hell?

He was seized by the sudden urge to reach up, wrap his arms around Dean and kiss him, take those deliciously soft lips into his own and slide his tongue in there, into the hot wet heat of Dean's mouth and taste his essence, his soul-

#

He hadn't ever kissed anyone before.

Dean had shown him how, a week or so earlier, they'd gone into town for supplies and Sam had gone all stupid when the check out girl had flirted with him, all blushing ears and stammering words and Dean had, thank God, hauled his ass out of there before he could make a bigger fool of himself.

When he'd ask Sam about it later, Sam had gotten pissed, yelled at Dean that it wasn't like he knew what the fuck to do anyway with a chick, cause he never even had a chance to go on a date. And when he'd mumbled, red-faced and humiliated, that he didn't even know how to kiss, Dean had decided then and there to up Sammy's education.

They'd practiced on Sam's arm, Dean first pressing his lips in dry and then showing Sam how to deepen the kiss, licking his tongue around on Sam's skin, French-kissing his wrist and Sam had laughed and pulled away because it tickled-

And when Dean had held out his own arm towards Sam's mouth, wanting Sam to try, Sam had looked at Dean's arm, his breath froze in his chest, his skin felt stretched too tight over his bones, and he knew his face was flushed and raw-

He'd shaken his head, backtracked fast and skittered out of the room, high tailing it for the bathroom at mock ten and slamming the door shut behind him, heart pounding like a freaking freight train in his ribs-

He'd stared at his arm where Dean's tongue had been and licked his lips before bending to taste, sliding over his brother's spit and pulling the flavor back into his mouth and it was good, just like he knew Dean would taste.

The quick tingle had flared then, through his belly and balls and he'd pushed it away, heart knocking and rattling, scrubbing soap over his arm, rubbing chafe, huge frightened eyes looking back at him from the mirror and he'd shoved the feeling down deep, shaking it off fast because it made him feel-

God, so fucking dirty.

#

He'd felt gangly and awkward since that night, like he didn't belong in his own skin and scared to get too close to Dean, to touch Dean-

And then Dean had hugged him, pulling him in, cupping his hand around Sam's head until Sam's face was buried in his neck, breathing in Dean's scent-

And fuck, it flared up in him so fast, so freaking hard that he clung to Dean, panting into him and he felt his hand slide up, slipping over the firm chest to lay on Dean's beating heart before moving higher, going for Dean's face and he'd jerked back fast, stopping himself because Dean would hate him, would push him away and he can't have that, can't let that happen ever, ever because his whole life is Dean-

Can't live without him and he's gonna make damn sure that he doesn't screw anything up-

He twists away fast, body suddenly covered with a layer of cold sweat that trickles down his back, sticking his shirt to him-

And meets Dean's eyes-

And there's something there, dark and flaring in the depths of those green eyes, hungry and wanting-

"Dean." His voice is a whisper, a frantic plea for guidance because why is Dean looking at him like that?

And Dean reaches out, slides a thumb down his face, over his cheek bone and ghosts across his bottom lip-

And Sam's mouth trembles under Dean's touch because God, he wants-

And fuck-

His dick is rock hard, shoving up through the slit of his trunks and shit, he's got to get out of here, right the fuck now, before Dean sees-

He jumps to his feet, Dean jerking back in surprise and turns quick, thumping up the steps and into the cabin without a backward glance, hoping to hell Dean hadn't seen the tenting of his crotch-

He'd made it to the bathroom, locking himself inside, staring at his own shell-shocked expression in the mirror, scared shitless at the feelings roaring through him. He'd splashed cold water on his face, breathing rough and held on to the sink with both hands, dizzy and near swooning because holy shit, he wanted to kiss Dean, touch Dean's cock, God, drop to his knees and take it in his mouth and drink him down-

Come on-

This was Dean, his stupid, asshole of a brother, that would fuck anything that moved as long as it had tits and a hole to push into-

And Sam wasn't gay, didn't like guys, for Christ's sake. He liked girls, was sure he did because he was a Winchester and Winchesters didn't do gay-

His brain tries for logic because reason has just flown out the fucking window.

Ok, he hasn't had a chance to jerk off in a couple of weeks, a guy his age must get stunted growth or something if he doesn't do it a couple times a day…that must be it, he's just goddamn horny and Dean is too, hell, they're in each other's pockets, not like they get much chance to choke the chicken-

Ok, then.

He pushes down his shorts, grabbing his dick and stroking hard, groaning at the rush of pleasure that sweeps through, hanging onto the sink with the other hand, staring at himself in the mirror, biting on his lower lip with a vengeance, making it all red and swollen-

He pulls the skin and jerks his wrist, thumbing over the sensitive head and rocking his hips in. Mmmm, that's nice, yeah-

He drags faster, gripping tight and jerking up rough, his breath speeding up in time and he thinks of the clerk in the store, tawny haired and long legs, smelling good and sweet and yeah, he'd like to get into her pants for sure, kiss her like Dean showed him how, get her naked and gasping underneath him, run his mouth over those sweet breasts and suck each nipple in turn, and he'd kiss her all over, using his fingers inside her to bring her to ecstasy, to make her scream in pleasure-

He's climbing higher now, almost there, hand moving faster on his shaft, straining towards the crest of the wave and suddenly, the girl's image is gone and Dean is there, in his mind's eye, green eyes smiling, lips curved up deliciously, leaning towards him to touch, saying his name in a low, sensuous whisper, "Sammy-"

And Dean's running his hand up his face, over his lips, touching softly and leaning in to kiss, mouth almost there-

With a cry of release, Sam's orgasm hits hard and he's pumping into the sink, long streams of it splattering the porcelain, the faucet, the mirror and he bucks into his fist, aftershocks racking through-

Until he's shot his load, nothing more to give and he's spent, empty gaze staring back at him and now he's shaking all over, eyes stinging with tears-

Holy shit, he's screwed.

Suddenly, Dean's there, banging on the bathroom door, yelling his name and Sam is scrambling, lunging for the sponge, scrubbing away his jizz with a trembling hand, taking a deep breath before pulling back the knob, meeting Dean's worried eyes quick before he jerks his gaze away-

"You ok, Sammy? You ok?"

And he nods, pushing past Dean, can't look at him, not at all, going into the kitchen and pouring himself a huge glass of ice tea before back tracking, into the living room and turning on the tube.

"Sam?" Dean's followed him, staring at him with dark eyes, eyes he can't read anymore.

"I'm fine, Dean. Just…too freaking hot tonight, you know?"

And Sam settles on the couch, stretching out his legs in front of him, sucking on ice cubes and staring at the television, desperately looking everywhere but at his gorgeous brother.

#

So hot, so fucking hot the past few days and it's all he can do to breathe, the air wet and heavy in his lungs-

And his freaking brother, sitting on the couch in nothing but his underwear, skin glistening in the television light, sweat gleaming as it trickles down-

Sam's filling out so nice, all the training turning his long body lean, hard and his muscles were getting sculpted, cut into his skin, not an ounce of fat on him-

Fucking air conditioner still isn't working and the skin clings to any surface, thighs sticking hard to the plastic kitchen chair as Dean stands up, goes to the refrigerator for another beer-

Watches Sam watching TV, eyes tracing the firm body, the long legs stretched out in front of him, and his face-

Drops of sweat collect on the sweet curve of his nose, bead on the delicious upper lip and cling to the curls around his neck-

Sam sucks down a glass of ice tea, holding the tumbler to his face to try to cool, panting slightly in the heat of the night-

Dean chugs the beer he just got, downing it in three huge gulps and pulls himself out another one, yanking his gaze off Sam only to have it pulled back like a magnet, glued to that body, that face…that sweat-

Sam looks so goddamn good when he sweats-

Just looks good no matter what he's doing-

Dean's felt the pull of it for a couple of months now, managed to shove it down and keep it there when Sam's around, only letting himself think about it when Sam's sleeping in the next bed, making soft delicious wuffles as he rolls and tosses in slumber, or when Sam's in the shower and Dean can let his mind wander, thinking about his brother, naked and dripping, in the steam of the bath.

He knows it's wrong, knows it's perverted and sick and twisted and evil and all other kinds of filthy things and he's tried to get rid of it for months but it keeps coming back, rearing up its ugly head, taking over his mind and his goddamn cock until it's all he thinks about, all he can focus on.

It's his baby brother, his responsibility, his job-

It's soft skin and sweet smells, curling up on his chest whenever he's afraid, making Dean feel big and strong and those adoring eyes staring up into his own, worshipping him, loving him unconditionally, always.

And Christ, he wants to kiss Sam so bad, wants to taste those lips under his own, wants to show Sam all the pleasures in life, wants to touch him all over, taste him all over, feel him-

He's lost count of how many times he's jerked off to images of Sam moving beneath him, staring up into him, begging Dean to fuck him, to love him-

And Sam had never suspected, not once.

Until tonight.

He'd seen it in Sam's face, the pull of it, the fucking hunger and when Sam's eyes had locked on his for that one second, that soft brown gaze had widened at what he saw in Dean, because Dean knew the ravenous need was shining out of him, pulsing out of him in waves of desire-

Sam had looked so goddamn scared-

He'd never meant to scare him, that was the last thing he wanted to do, he just hadn't been able to pull his mask back into place fast enough-

He'd hugged Sam in, felt the hot breath on his neck and then the slide of Sam's caress up his belly and over his heart-

The feel of him shot flicks of desire up Dean's spine and he was helpless, unable to hide and Sam had seen-

Dean shuffles restlessly, watching a lone drop of sweat trickle down the side of Sam's face and God, he just wants a taste-

Sam feels his gaze and turns his head, staring at him across the room, bangs hanging down, hiding him as he silently watches Dean back.

He jerks his eyes away, stares at the beer in his hand and mouths the bottle, chugging it down, licking his lips, wishing it was Sam's mouth, wanting more than anything just to touch, to taste-

He'd lay odds that Sam tastes as good as he looks.

He slams the bottle down, scared and pissed off at the want that's rolling around in his belly, it's not fucking fair that his brother has this kind of power over him, that all Sam has to do is sit there, sweating in the heat and he can turn Dean into a twitching mess of hot desire, consumed by thoughts of naked skin and lips and tongues-

God, he just wants this shit to go the fuck away.

His eyes dart back to Sam and yeah, he's still watching him, calm and quiet and the sheen of his skin glistens and shimmers in the TV light, drops gathering at the vee in his neck where his collarbones meet, like he's wearing some kind of diamond necklace or something-

And Dean wants to run his fingers through it, smear it all over the firm young chest, the strong slender arms, flat belly and lower, over the silky fine hairs just under Sam's navel and down…

And Dean's running a shaky hand over his mouth, trying so hard to resist, he's trembling with effort and goddamn fucking alcohol anyway, it's filling his head with all kinds of thoughts he shouldn't be having right now-

He's yanking open the refrigerator door, great, out of fucking beer and he paces the kitchen floor, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck and makes a decision-

Stops, reaches into the cupboard over the fridge and grabs the Jack Daniels, opens it and takes a long swill, the burn of it tearing at his throat but it snatches away the filth of his thoughts, the sin of it is swallowed down in the fiery liquid pooling in his stomach.

He almost retches it back up again but grits his teeth, holds it down and the swoon of it hits his head almost immediately, making him rock back into the counter for balance, trying not to fall on his goddamn ass-

#

Dean's staring at him.

Sam feels his gaze from across the room and it makes his skin pick and itch, tingling with awareness, hot and hungry and he tries to ignore it, doesn't want Dean to see how aroused he is, how much he wants to touch-

The tension is suffocating, and he struggles to huff in a breath, to control his own heat because he can fucking smell Dean from over here, beer, sweat and pool water and he wants that smell all over him, crushing him under it, making him inhale-

And the thought rocks through him, staggers his brain and leaves him shaking in his skin, weak as a kitten because it's simple and straight forward, obvious and of course.

He loves Dean with every breath, every fiber of his being and he's never gonna be finished, never complete or sated until he can have Dean, every way he wants, anytime he wants-

#

"Dean." Sam stands in the archway, staring at him, skin glistening like he's covered in fine gossamer silk and Christ, he feels the strength fall away, and his knees buckle, weak and shaky at the raw emotion that's just jumped into his heart, into his head and Dean puts the bottle down, grabs the counter behind him for support, holds on tight otherwise he's gonna reach out and drag Sam over, press that body up tight against his and kiss the breath out of his baby brother.

Sam's moves in closer, reaching out for the bottle and snatching it up, tilts it to his mouth and swallows it down, soft brown eyes never leaving Dean's face.

Sam knows.

Knows how Dean feels, knows how much Dean wants him, he's reading it all over his face and Dean can't fucking hide it anymore, it's right there, pulsing out of him-

And Dean feels the thrill of fear shoot down his legs at the thought but Sam doesn't look angry, doesn't look sickened at all-

Instead, he's taking another drink before stepping up close, reaching around Dean to put the bottle on the counter and-

His hand lands heavy on Dean's bare shoulder and slides down his bicep, over the crook of elbow and down to his forearm, nice and slow, awakening every nerve under Dean's skin and shooting sparks of pleasure right through his gut, down his legs-

The heat in Sam's hand is blistering his flesh and he can't help it, Dean lists towards him, leans into the touch, closing his eyes and losing himself in the feel of his brother's skin on his.

The smell of him is in Dean's head, chlorine and sweat and a sweet catch underneath, elusive and tantalizing and he breathes in deep, filling his lungs with it-

A soft wet touch covers his mouth, presses him backwards and he jerks back, eyes wide and scared as he stares at Sam, breath pounding out of his chest into the air between them and he lifts a finger, touches his mouth, it's hot and tingly, like a live wire just touched his lips-

"Sam? Sammy?" God, is that his voice, all scared and trembly, sounding young and wrenched out, like he's a little boy again?

And Sam shakes his head, smiling at him with full on dimples, reaches up his other hand to cup Dean's cheek, thumbing across his brother's full lips for a moment before sliding back around, behind his neck and tugging him forward, covering Dean's mouth with his own-

There's a jolt of lightening, a fire burst of light behind his eyes, making him snap backwards but Sam won't let him go, holds on tight and his mouth is stuck to Dean's like fucking glue, moving with him and when he feels Sam's tongue, sliding in, finding his and-

Holy shit!

It's sizzling hot, a freaking inferno, scorching red and turning him into a bundle of nerves, tingling and alive, so fucking alive for the first time in his life-

He's never been kissed like this before-

He moans low in his throat, hands reach up of their own accord, landing on Sam's hips with a smack and yanking him forward, needing to get as close to his brother as humanly possible, wanting to get inside him-

And he's pulling Sam up tight, shoving in with his hips, clanging against Sam's bones, rucking his cock up against his brother's, and rubbing, oh, shit, rubbing to beat the fucking band and feel so good, so nice, so fucking sweet-

When Sam pulls away with a gasp, staring into his eyes and then dropping his gaze, staring down between them, and he's reaching down, shoving Dean's shorts off with a hand and when Dean's cock falls out, heavy and stiff, Sam catches his lip between his teeth at the sight, making Dean groan with anticipation-

The hand that touches him is gentle, experimental, grasping him loose around the base before giving a small tug up, and Dean gives a shout of pleasure, hips thrusting forward, "God, Sammy, God…"

Seems to give Sam courage and he tightens his hand, drags his palm up and down on Dean's shaft, making Dean's hips jerk and dance, fingers clenching tight to Sam's hips and finally, he's ripping off Sam's shorts, needing to touch-

And Sam's dick is impressive, bobbing in between them, standing at attention and Dean stares down at it, mouth so hungry for it, warring with himself because he wants to touch Sam in so many places, in so many ways-

Sam is blinking up at him, through his bangs and then he takes Dean's hand, wraps Dean's fingers around himself and starts to pump both of them, helping his brother to touch him like he wants, like he needs-

And the love for Sam surges up, takes him over until he's lost, control gone and he can't fight it any more-

He lunges forward, battens down on Sam's mouth, fucking fire between his lips and his mind is swirling and dancing at the flavor of his baby brother on his tongue and sweet Christ, could he taste any more decadent, any more delicious? Like the fucking tang of life itself and all Dean wants to do is drink it down, make it last forever and Sam is right there with him, sucking down on his tongue, wild and free until Dean can't breathe, can't think a fucking coherent thought and Jesus-

It's all Sam, he's everything and everywhere, the only thing that matters in the whole entire world and now Sam's got them both in hand, Sam's dick flush up against his own, hard as stone and rubbing, Christ, rubbing so fucking good, it's making his jaw clench, his eyes squeeze shut and his balls draw up tight and firm, twitching-

And the liquor is warming his belly, twisting through his gut until it's fire there and he's pulling Sam up tight, gyrating his pelvis in because it's so fucking good to just rub himself on Sam's cock, on Sam's fucking rock hard dick and just let himself, for fucking once, just let himself have his baby brother, have this one thing that he's wanted for fucking ever and let tomorrow take care of itself, it's just tonight, right now and God, he wants to fucking come, all over Sam's hand-

And he's groaning into Sam's mouth, sucking his tongue into his own, and the taste of him, fuck, it's ice tea and summer and heat, just the best fucking taste in the world and he's whimpering against Sam's mouth-

"Fuck, Sammy, just- God, you feel so fucking good-"

And he's circling and pressing, hips rolling on in, pressure on then off, sweat dripping and pooling and almost there, almost there-

With a cry of anguish, of pleasure, he's shooting hard, pumping out his load all over both of them, wet and slippery, his "Fuck, fuck!" muffled and hoarse, his spasms short and twitchy, trembling hard and he's huffing against Sam's mouth as Sam continues to rock into him, nostrils flaring and long fingers wrapped tight around them-

And one more rock in, one more pull and Sam goes rigid, holding tense and then erupts, hitting Dean's belly and chest with it, fiery liquid burning into his skin, making him gasp and moan at the heat of it-

They cling to each other until their ragged breath calms down, until their heartbeats return to normal and the shaking has pretty much stopped-

The stare at each other in fear because the line they just crossed is gonna fuck them both up, gonna mess their lives up good-

And Dean makes the worst decision of his life.

He pulls up Sam's shorts and then his own, tucking them both in gently, grabs a dish towel and wipes them both down and then takes Sam by the shoulders, spins him around and gives him a shove out of the kitchen, commanding tone leaving no room for discussion, "Get ready for bed, Sam."

And Sam glances back once, giving him a longing look before stumbling off, into the bathroom and Dean hears the water running, hears Sam brushing his teeth and the toilet flush, watches Sam shuffle down to the bedroom before he follows.

Sam stands in the middle of the room, looking confused and exhausted and Dean pulls back the blankets, helps him lay down and covers him up, tucking him in. He lays a chaste kiss to Sam's forehead before he turns away, voice choked and ragged, "I love you, Sammy-"

"Love you, too." And Sam's reaching out, catching Dean's hand, staring up at Dean earnestly, trying to stay awake long enough to say what he needs to say, "I'm not sorry, Dean."

"Sleep, Sam. We'll talk about it in the morning."

And Sam's eyes close fast, he's asleep within seconds, snoring loudly and Dean's staring down at him in sadness.

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