Title: His Very Own

Author: Lazalot_Anreads

Beta: None

Characters/Pairings: Dean/Sam

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 4, 725

Challenge: Written for Deadflowers5 for the 2012 round of SPN_J2_Xmas.

Summary: Dean gets insanely jealous when he sees some rich pretty boy hitting on his Sam in a bar, leading him to drag his brother away and stake his claim on the younger man in the backseat of the Impala.

Notes: Set after Tall Tales

Dean sunk the eight ball and smirked at his opponent, picking up his money. The guy, Randall, shrugged and smiled easily before walking away, the look in his eyes telling Dean that the man knew he'd been hustled but wasn't really upset about it. That was new – usually his targets got seriously pissed off once they realized they'd been played. Dean grinned back at Randall, glad there wasn't going to be a fight. The Trickster had kind of worn him out, not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

Shoving the cash – four hundred dollars – into his wallet and sliding it into his back pocket, Dean looked around for Sam. His spine stiffened when he spotted his little brother at the bar, eyes narrowing dangerously. Sam was chatting with some pretty boy that obviously had a lot of money, if his fancy clothes were anything to go by. Sam laughed loudly at something Pretty Boy said, obviously fairly tipsy, and the ignorant asshole actually had the nerve to reach up and run his fingers through Dean's baby brother's silky mop of dark hair. Growling low in his throat, sounding more like an animal than a human being, Dean practically teleported to Sam's side. Grabbing the bastard's hand out of his brother's hair, he twisted the guy's wrist viciously, stopping just shy of breaking it. The guy let out a sharp, pain filled cry and tried frantically to pull away, but Dean refused to let go of him.

"You don't touch him, Rich Boy," he said in a quiet, deadly tone. "He belongs to me, understand?" He twisted the guy's wrist just a tiny bit more, earning a pathetic sounding whimper from the asshole. "Understand?"

"Dean," Sam said softly, resting a big hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezing gently, "he didn't know. Let him go, he won't touch me again." Sam turned his gaze back to the guy, Daniel, suddenly looking completely sober. "Sorry, dude. I didn't realize you were interested, or I would have let you know that I'm taken."

Dean took a long, deep breath and reluctantly let the guy go. He really wanted to keep twisting, to hear the satisfying crack of breaking bone, but he knew they really didn't need that kind of attention. "Keep your filthy hands to yourself from now on, Fucker, or I swear to God I'll cut them off."

Daniel, once released, suddenly grew a set of balls. Turning to Sam with an incredulous look, he asked, "Why the fuck would you want to stay with this possessive asshole? I'll bet he's abusive. Does he hit you? I could help you get away, Sam. You don't have to stay with him."

Sam sucked in a sharp, angry breath and stood up, looming over Daniel with a look in his eyes that chilled the other man to the bone. "Dean would never hurt me, and I wouldn't leave him for anything, got it?" Sam turned back to his big brother, waving a dismissive hand at Daniel as if to shoo him away. "Come on, Dean, let's just get the hell out of here, okay?"

Dean kept his glare trained on Daniel for a couple of minutes longer, fighting down the urge to kill that always filled him when someone else dared to put their hands on his Sammy. Daniel shivered in fear and leaned back, raising his hands in surrender, his eyes wide and terrified. He looked like he might start begging for his life at any moment. Finally, Dean took another deep breath and gripped his little brother's bicep tightly, practically dragging him out of the bar.

"Dean, dude, I'm really sorry," Sam said sincerely, stumbling slightly but quickly righting himself and matching his pace to his big brother's. "I really thought he just wanted someone to talk with, I had no idea that he was actually interested in me. I didn't mean to let him touch me, I just wasn't expecting it. Please don't be mad at me, Big Brother."

Dean tossed him a quick glance. "I'm not pissed at you, Sammy. I know you weren't into that stupid ass. It's just … he touched you. He touched your hair." Sam's girly hair was something of an obsession for the older Winchester, and knowing that someone else had felt it against their skin made him feel sort of sick inside. "I have to … I need …" He couldn't seem to get the right words out, but he knew his little brother understood him just fine anyway. Yanking open the back door of the Impala, he shoved Sam inside and climbed in on top of him, pulling the door closed behind him even as he crushed his mouth against his brother's. "Need …" he said again, a harsh whisper against Sam's lips, and started to work on getting them both naked.

"Yes …" Sam moaned in reply, allowing Dean to strip him and then watching with hungry, lust blown eyes as his older brother removed his own clothing. His eyes lingered on Dean's rock hard cock and he licked his lips slowly before returning his gaze to the older man's. "Take me, possess me. I want you, I need you. I'm yours, Big Brother, I've always belonged to you. Always, and I always will, no matter what."

"Yeah," Dean hissed, and straddled his baby brother's chest. Guiding the wet head of his dick to Sam's lips, he growled, "Get it good and wet, Baby Boy. I don't have the patience for any real prep, and besides, I want you to be feeling this for at least a week." They'd fucked in the shower before leaving for the bar, so Dean knew he didn't have to worry about truly hurting the younger Winchester. Sam would still be loose enough that spit would work just fine.

Sam shuddered, lust riding him hard, and opened his mouth as Dean pressed forward. He sucked hard and sloppy, getting his brother as wet as he possibly could and staring up at him with worshipful eyes the entire time. When Dean started to thrust, fucking his baby brother's throat, Sam made a sound like he was the one getting blown.

Dean's eyes, almost black with passion, were glued to Sam's. His expression radiated fierce love and such absolute possession it actually caused the younger Winchester's heart to skip a few beats. Six thrusts in Dean started speaking in a rough voice, utterly unable to hold back his words even if he had wanted to. "Mine, Sammy, you were made for me and I'm never letting you go, not fucking ever. I wanted to fucking kill that son of a bitch, touching you like he had the right – touching your hair. Shit, I still want to kill him. If I ever see the asshole again, I probably will."

Sam moaned loudly around his brother's thick, throbbing shaft, his entire body burning with his arousal. Maybe it was sick – okay, it was definitely sick, but then so was a lot of what he and Dean did together – but Sam really got off on the idea that Dean would kill an innocent human being just for daring to flirt with his little brother. Sometimes he even fantasized about it when he jacked off – thought about dragging some random guy out back at some sleazy bar and kissing him just to watch Dean tear him apart when the older man inevitably caught them. He would imagine Dean staking his claim right there in the pool of the guy's blood, branding Sam with hard bites to his throat and hot come in his ass. It was actually his favorite fantasy, though of course he knew he'd never actually go through with it. He'd never even told Dean about it, too scared of what his brother might say or do in response to such an admission.

Dean continued fucking Sam's hot, wet mouth for a few more minutes, but then his need got the better of him and he pulled out. He easily manhandled his giant of a younger brother so that Sam was on his knees, ass in the air, his chest and cheek pressed against the leather seat. He used his own discarded belt to bind Sam's hands tightly behind his back, making sure it would hold without causing any real pain. It was something that they did quite often, because nothing made Dean shoot longer or harder than making his baby brother come just from being fucked, and if they left Sam's hands free he was never able to keep himself from touching his own dick. Plus, it was proof of just how much the younger Winchester really trusted his big brother, and that knowledge never failed to give Dean a major thrill.

Once he had Sam in position, the older Winchester sat back on his heels and just stared at the perfection before him for several minutes. He didn't touch even though he ached to run his hands over every inch of his little brother, because sometimes Dean just had to take a little time to appreciate how lucky he was to have Sam, to have every single part of his beautiful, precious baby brother for his very own.

Dean had been head over heels in love with the younger Winchester since Sam was fifteen years old, though back then he'd never planned to do anything about it and had worked extremely hard to keep his baby brother from finding out. He'd felt sick and wrong for having such feelings, and his overwhelming guilt had driven him to push Sam away as much as he possibly could. It had gotten so bad that he hardly spent any time with his brother at all, choosing instead to go out to bars practically every night and pick up random chicks in a desperate attempt to fuck his feelings away. It hadn't ever worked, of course, but he had kept trying anyway and eventually Sam had stopped trying to repair their broken relationship and had thrown himself into his school work instead.

Dean hadn't realized how badly he'd fucked everything up until the night Sam had dropped the Stanford bomb and left without so much as a glance – let alone a goodbye – for his utterly stunned older brother, John's ultimatum seeming to echo for hours after the youngest Winchester was gone. Dean, feeling empty and numb, had retreated to his bedroom and locked the door with shaking hands. His cheeks had been wet with tears but for once he hadn't cared about seeming weak, because the love of his life was gone and absolutely nothing mattered anymore.

He might well have eaten a bullet that night, if he hadn't seen the letter Sam had left on his pillow before he picked up his favorite gun. Dean had sat down hard on the edge of the bed and picked up the envelope that had his name scrawled across the front in his little brother's elegant handwriting. He'd been more terrified of opening that envelope than he'd been of the werewolf he'd hunted with his father when he was only nine years old, but it was from Sam and so he had to know what it said. He remembered being absolutely certain that his baby brother had somehow discovered his shameful secret and had left because of that, because he couldn't stand to be anywhere near his perverted older brother any longer. But he'd been wrong.

Dear Dean,

I'm so sorry, so incredibly sorry for everything. I'm sorry for getting Mom killed, for ruining your childhood, for being such a burden to you for so many years, and most of all for never telling you how much you mean to me. You're more than my big brother, you know. You're also my only real parent, my hero, and my best friend. Even though we aren't really close anymore, you're still all of those things to me and so much more, and you always will be.

I'm leaving for a lot of reasons, some of them selfish and some of them not. The biggest reason is to give you back your freedom, to stop tying you down when we all know that you'd really rather be hunting with Dad than babysitting your pain in the ass little brother. You were born to hunt, you know, born to be a hero. Every hunter we've ever met got into the life for some sort of revenge, even Dad. You're different, though, Dean. Sure, I know you really do want to get the thing that killed Mom, but even more than that I know you want to help people. I admire that so much, wish that I could be even half the man you are, but I know this isn't the life for me. I'm no hero, and I never will be.

I have to do this. I have to know if I actually have anything to offer the world, if there is some way for me to help people that won't put those I care about at risk. I suck at hunting – every time I go with you and Dad, one or both of you ends up getting hurt trying to protect me. I love you both so much and I know if I stay with you, I'll end up getting one or both of you killed. I couldn't stand that, Dean, I just couldn't. Please understand.

I'm not sure what happened, why you and I drifted apart the way we did, but I have my suspicions. That's another reason I need to go – you shouldn't have to be uncomfortable all of the time just because your little brother is a total freak. I want you to be happy, Dean. I want you to be able to relax, to be free, and to be able to start following all of the dreams I know you've put on hold in order to take care of me. I'll be okay – I haven't forgotten my training and I'll keep myself as protected as possible at all times. I won't let myself get out of shape, either, so there isn't any reason for you to worry about me anymore. I'll be fine, I promise. So stop thinking about what's best for me and start thinking about what's best for you, got it? Good.

I'm going to try to be normal – or mostly normal, anyway. As normal as I can possibly be without leaving myself open to attack. I'm going to get a job and take a lot of classes to keep busy, and after I've done my year in the dorms I'm going to try to get an apartment of my own. I'm even going to try dating, and maybe I'll get lucky and meet someone nice who I can love and want without causing them pain. Still, no matter how busy I get, I want you to know that I'll always be thinking of you and missing you. You'll never stop being the most important person in the world to me, even if we never actually see each other again.

I don't want you to call or visit, at least not for a few years, because we both need some time to figure out who we are as individuals. After those years have gone by, though, I'd be beyond ecstatic to hear from you again. I know you might not want that, of course, given my fucked up issues. You've certainly gone out of your way to avoid me for the past three years, after all. Anyway, whether you and I ever see each other again or not, I wish you the best and I'll always love you. You'll always be my big brother, no matter what.

Goodbye, Dean, and good luck. Take care of yourself and be happy, because nobody deserves happiness more than you do.

Chick Flick Stuff,

Sammy

After reading that letter, though there were a couple of parts that hadn't really made any sense to him, Dean had the mother of all epiphanies. He'd realized how incredibly stupid he'd been to push his brother away instead of pulling him closer like he had really wanted to, how he'd gotten so caught up in his own guilt for loving Sammy the wrong way that he'd forgotten to show his brother any love at all, and how he'd made the biggest mistake of his life by listening to his head instead of his heart. It had suddenly occurred to Dean that nobody could possibly ever love his baby brother as much as he did, and that it was really only natural to want to express that love physically. Dean had been utterly disgusted with himself when he realized that he'd been conforming to society, ignoring what felt right in favor of listening to the world's insistence that what was in his heart was wrong.

He'd made several decisions right then and there. First, he had decided that he would honor the letter and let his brother have a few years of the normal life he craved, and then when the time felt right he would go and get Sam back. Second, he had decided that once he had Sam back, he would allow himself to love the younger Winchester without any reservations. Third, he had decided that when it seemed like the right time, he would sit his little brother down and tell him everything. He would tell the younger man how he really felt, the reasons he'd pushed Sam away before, and – if by some miracle his little brother felt the same way – that he wanted them to be together in every sense of the word, exclusively and forever. Of course, if Sam didn't feel the same, Dean wouldn't ever try anything, but he wouldn't ever let his baby brother leave him again either. Feeling better for having made a plan, Dean had tucked the letter back into its envelope and put it at the bottom of his duffel, then went about getting ready for bed.

Four long, agonizing years later, John had gone missing and Dean had known it was finally time to get his brother back. It had never even occurred to Dean that Sam might be happy with his new life, or that he might be in a committed relationship. Jessica's existence had been like a knife to the older Winchester's heart, and when Sam had insisted on returning to Stanford after they took care of the woman in white, Dean had been sure that any chance he might have had with his little brother was gone. Feeling completely shattered, he had waited until Sam had gone into the building before driving off.

Three miles away, he'd realized that he was acting like a complete coward – he hadn't even really tried to get Sam back for real. He'd taken one look at Jessica and had decided that she was the right one for his brother, that she could give him everything that Dean couldn't – stability, marriage, a family, and of course the normal the younger Winchester seemed to want so desperately. Dean had backed down without even a hint of a fight, conveniently forgetting what he himself had to offer Sam – limitless love, unconditional acceptance, a chance to make the world a better place, an equal partnership, a home base like Bobby's because his little brother deserved at least one place where he could feel truly safe, marriage if Sam wanted it because they certainly had plenty of fake IDs, and even kids if the younger Winchester decided he wanted to adopt somewhere down the line. Dean would do anything for his little brother, and he could sure as hell take better care of the young man than Jessica ever could. There would never be any need for lies or secrets between Sam and Dean.

Dean had turned the car around and practically flown back, determined to do whatever it took to get Sam back for real. Then he'd seen the smoke and it had been so surreal, the past repeating itself almost exactly. Dean had once again pulled his baby brother out of a burning building, his heart breaking a little more for the younger Winchester with each of Sam's desperate shouts of his dead girlfriend's name. Dean had wanted so badly to hold the younger Winchester like he had when Sammy was still a kid, but he'd known instinctively that it was way too soon for even that much. So he'd waited, and waited, and waited some more.

Then, suddenly, it had been too late. Sam had been infected by the fucking croatoan virus and Dean had been certain that both of their lives were over, because his little brother wasn't going anywhere without him – not even to the other side. Sam had tried his best to get Dean to just shoot him and leave, to save himself. Dean had refused, of course, and Sam had demanded to know why. So, since it was his last chance anyway, Dean had told him. He had told his little brother everything.

Sam had cried like a child when Dean was finished, and the older Winchester hadn't had a clue what to do. He hadn't even really known why his brother was crying, if it was because of Dean's confession or their imminent deaths or the fact that his big brother was beyond fucked up. He had pulled his younger sibling into a tight hug anyway, even though he'd half expected Sam to shove him away in disgust and maybe even beat the shit out of him.

That hadn't happened, though. Instead, his little brother had clung tightly to Dean and managed a confession of his own through heart wrenching sobs. He'd told Dean that he'd been in love with the older man since he was fourteen, and had thought that his big brother had somehow found out when Dean had started avoiding him a year later. The parts of Sam's letter that Dean had never really understood had suddenly made perfect sense, and the whole thing was just such a fucking tragedy that Dean had broken down and cried too.

Then it had all been over, and against all odds the brothers had still been alive. They'd gotten into the Impala and driven a good three hundred miles away in total silence, trying to process everything. It hadn't been awkward or uncomfortable at all, and at some point they had actually ended up with their hands clasped tightly together on the seat between them. Eventually, exhaustion had caught up with them and they'd grabbed a quick bite at a Wendy's drive through before getting a room at a crummy motel, showering quickly, and crashing for over twelve hours.

They'd woken up at almost the exact same moment, eyes meeting across the short distance that separated their beds, and the rest of the world had seemed to fall away as they had finally given into years of repressed feelings. They'd gone at each other like animals the first few times, marking each other up so thoroughly that anybody who'd looked would have known what they'd been up to, and then time had seemed to slow and they'd made love tenderly for hours – worshiping every inch of each other. Neither man had ever had any regrets.

"Dean!" Sam huffed, bringing his big brother back to the present. "Come on, please! Quit staring at my ass and just fuck it already!"

Dean chuckled and smacked his little brother's left cheek hard. "You're so fucking greedy. Don't forget who calls the shots here, Bitch." Unfortunately, since he'd been lost in his thoughts, the saliva Sam had coated his dick in had dried. Though he was being ridden hard by need, there was no way the older Winchester was going to take his baby brother without getting things at least a little wet. Even with Sammy still loose from earlier, going in dry would definitely cause pain – for both of them. So Dean decided to improvise.

"Jerk," Sam replied easily, wiggling his ass in his brother's face. "Please?"

"Yeah, Baby, I got you," Dean replied huskily, spreading his little brother's ass cheeks and licking his hole. The unexpected sensation made Sam gasp and moan, trying to push back for more despite his awkward position. The older Winchester grinned and then really went for it, licking and sucking and nibbling until his sibling was utterly desperate, begging for Dean's cock so loud that anybody who happened to be in the parking lot could probably hear it. Still, the older man kept it up for as long as he could, reveling in Sam's need for him.

Finally, though, he found himself unable to ignore his own aching arousal any longer and pulled back, getting into position and gripping his baby brother's hips tightly. "Get ready for a rough ride, Baby Boy." Without any further warning, Dean slammed inside, Sam accepting him easily and both of them groaning in pure bliss when he bottomed out.

Dean didn't pause, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in as hard as he could, angling his hips just right to hit the younger Winchester's sweet spot and smirking at Sam's hoarse shout of pleasure. He kept going, not letting up for an instant, determined – as he always was – that this time would be even better than the last. As usual, while Sam seemed to forget the English language every time they fucked, Dean couldn't make himself stop talking.

"Fuck, yeah, Sammy – you're so perfect, Baby, my perfect little bitch … I'm gonna make you come so goddamn hard, Little Brother … Nobody else gets this, you belong to me, kill anyone that tries to take you away … You're so sweet, you feel so fucking good, so hot and tight inside … Fuck, I love you so much, Baby, you're everything … You're mine, I'll die before I let you go … Fuck, not gonna last much longer … Come on, Baby Brother, come for me … I wanna feel you come on my cock … Now!" The last word was a command, pure and simple, and Sam had no problems obeying it.

He shot like a geyser all over the seat, screaming with it, vision actually going black for several seconds when he registered the feeling of Dean's come shooting deep inside him. Then, before the older man had even stopped coming, he leaned down and bit Sam's shoulder blade hard enough to draw blood. Somehow, despite the fact that the younger Winchester had pretty much just shot his soul out through his dick, he managed to have a second orgasm. Then he passed out.

Dean let himself rest on top of his little brother for a few moments, catching his breath, and then he sat up and pulled out as gently as he could. "I can't believe you came twice," he said smugly, freeing Sam's hands. "Damn, I'm good."

When Sam didn't reply, Dean realized he was unconscious and chuckled to himself as he cleaned up their mess with his own shirt before maneuvering his giant brother onto his back and into a reasonably comfortable position. Then he got them both dressed – excluding the come covered shirt and just zipping his leather jacket up all the way instead – and climbed out of the backseat so he could drive them back to their motel.

He was met with what appeared to be an audience of at least twenty people, all clapping and some shouting some pretty lewd things, and was suddenly very grateful that Sam had passed out. Dean didn't ever want anyone besides himself seeing his little brother's freshly fucked face. But it would be fun seeing Sammy's blush when Dean told him about it later. With a grin and a wave at the crowd, he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.