Sam's character does a 180 about-face during this chapter.

Warning: contains fairly explicit sex. Let me know if the rating I chose was wrong.

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Seeing the realization seep slowly into the green eyes was … interesting. And terribly arousing. Dean began to stammer, and Sam could hear his heart pounding. The heightened pulse. The helpless instinctive urge to fight or run. When Dean finally accepted what Sam had said, it was as clear as the click of a coffin closing before being lowered into the ground.

"What're you waiting for, then? A goddamn written invitation?" Dean demanded, apprehension obvious beneath his disdainful sneer, in the minute tremors of his hands as they rested on his crossed elbows, the involuntary twitching of his right leg.

Sam sighed, long-suffering, rising, and stalked toward him. "You have such a foul mouth."

"It's part of the fucking package. I guess you'll just have to deal," Dean retorted, forcing his limbs to be still as Sam approached him, power crackling in his steps.

In the short seconds it took Sam's long strides to reach his brother, he admitted to himself that Dean's radiating hostility rather added to the entertainment, and he decided to be a little more lenient than he had planned. He raised a single finger to trace the familiar lines of Dean's face—the light shadowed stubble on his jaw, the faint freckles on his nose—familiar to sight, but alien now that he was touching him—and found him surprisingly attractive, even in a masculine way. Beautiful, even. Dean watched him in return, throat working in agitation.

His brother's lips were last. Sam followed their sultry shape, their curving contours, and abruptly wanted to have a taste. He bent his head, and, with more gentleness than he had intended, kissed Dean. Electricity coursed through Sam as Dean opened his mouth, for sure, to bitch about it, but the result was the same. Hot as hell in the depths of his mouth. Sam sucked on Dean's tongue and brought up his hands, burrowing them in Dean's short hair to maneuver him into a better angle.

Then Dean was shoving him back and wiping his mouth with the back of a hand. "You kiss like a little girl on her first date," he said coolly. "I'm getting bored. You planning to man up about this sometime, Sammy?"

Fury furled in Sam's chest in ugly yellow pulsations and he half-pushed, half-threw Dean to the ground.

Stunned for a moment, from the floor Dean only gave him a shit-eating grin as he wobbled back to a standing position, daring him to further violence, as though Sam weren't seconds away from tearing him apart and bathing in his insides. Sam grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him up against the wall, drawing a pained grunt from his brother this time instead of mere discomfort, but he didn't stop grinning. Sam's fingers tightened on Dean's throat, preparing to crush, to hurt, to break—and then their bodies pressed together, with Sam's leg somehow wedged between Dean's thighs.

Back so close again, Sam noticed the little details he'd missed in his initial burst of wounded pride. The wide-blown pupils, with the gold-green color only a thin rim like a moon in eclipse. When Sam's free hand thoughtlessly slid up other man's chest, he found Dean's nipples enticingly hard. And there was a slowly hardening line of flesh against his leg.

So Dean was going to be difficult about this. Of course. He was Dean.

"So you get off on kissing little girls?" Sam said absently, one hand pinning Dean's wrists to the small of his brother's back, the other tracing lazy circles on Dean's stomach, stopping at the small swirl of his belly button, and then continuing further down until Sam's large hand was holding both Dean's cock and balls. They immediately grew stiffer, and Dean's hips twitched forward.

The darkening heat in Sam's eyes belied the clinically detached smile on his face as he patiently teased, kneaded, and massaged the flesh in his hand until Dean's cock lay straining against his belly, precum gathering at the tip.

"Oh fuck," Dean moaned helplessly, his head lolling on the wall; he would have crumpled to the ground if Sam hadn't released his wrists to place his hands under Dean's thighs and hoisted them up so that Dean's feet left the ground and he was completely dependent on Sam's strength to keep him there. Dean hissed as his sensitive cock made contact with Sam's belt buckle. "Fuck fuck fuck—"

And then Sam stopped his ministrations. Simply left his hand hovering but not touching. The yellow smoke was thickening, becoming almost … corporeal. "You get excited so easily," he said conversationally. "Sure you haven't thought about this before? Me holding you like this so you can't fight me, having to just take out what I give you?" Seeing Dean so wrecked and growing only more desperate was … immensely stimulating to the senses.

The filthy words he whispered into Dean's ear were about to send Dean over the edge. Sam saw the signs of the coming orgasm, and let go of one of the long legs to dangle feebly in the air while Sam shoved the other thigh away and up so that he could have an obscenely clear view of Dean's genitals, moved to forestall it by clamping down at the base of his brother's cock.

Dean jerked at the restraining touch and some come spurted out, but he couldn't achieve full release. He opened lust-fogged eyes and panted, "What the hell—"

"Has any girl touched you like this?" Sam inquired nonchalantly. "I really can't imagine one that could do what I'm doing to you."

"Of course not, you shit—" Dean cut off himself off with a breathless shout of protest as Sam's hand squeezed his painfully full cock, nails digging in. Sam looked down at him in heated amusement before he slanted his lips over Dean's open gasping mouth, swallowing his cries as Sam alternately caressed and held him tight. He obligingly sucked in Dean's scream as he rubbed a thumb over the weeping slit of Dean's cock, thrusting his tongue in viciously as though he were attacking Dean instead of kissing him.

Dean came violently with a hoarse cry and a series of shudders that shook his entire body. Sam allowed him to collapse into a boneless heap of limbs.

"I think that confirms," Sam informed him with satisfaction, "how different I am from your little girls."

Now it was his turn to enjoy himself. He closed a hand over Dean's elbow and easily dragged the unresisting man to the black silk-sheeted bed, lowering him down and kneeling between Dean's wantonly spread legs.

Still recovering from the intensity of his release, Dean did not immediately react when something slick began to press into him. The dragging burn of a second finger woke him from his stupor, however, and he thrashed, mindlessly trying to get away from the pain. Sam followed him, forcefully holding him in place until his struggles only impaled him further onto the invading digits.

….

Yellow sulfurous clouds hung heavily in the air around them. He had been mindlessly pounding into Dean for what felt like only a few minutes when he glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece and realized they'd been fucking for at least a half hour. Sam had wanted to keep the incredible bliss of anticipation continuing as long as possible, so he had used his powers to ensure he wouldn't come and ruin it. He didn't care enough to wonder what Azazeal would think of that.

Coming back to himself, he looked down and saw that Dean's cock had gone soft long ago and that he was clutching the covers with a death grip, knuckles white, face ashen with agony, jaw locked tight to stop himself from begging Sam to end it. Mottled bruises were everywhere. Despite his efforts tiny moans escaped past his lips. Even as Sam watched Dean's eyes rolled up in his head and he lost consciousness, slumping limply back on the bed. Letting Sam do whatever he wanted.

God. How many times had Dean passed out already, only to wake and find himself in the same nightmare of Sam looming over him, careless of how he felt? A pointed lance of guilt pierced him and his erection wilted at the thought of Dean suffering so quietly. He pulled out, and hated himself when the sight of Dean's swollen, abused entrance leaking come—his come—caused a heated ripple in his guts. Made him want to forget about Dean's condition, to force his thighs apart again and plunge back in.

Dean slowly found his way back to awareness. "Are … are you … finished?" he slurred, unable to hide the hopeful relief in his voice. "Fucking … finally."

"Hey," Sam whispered. He placed a hand on Dean's cheek and leaned over to gently brush his lips over the other man's unbearably soft, bruised mouth. "I'm sorry," he admitted. "I got carried away—I shouldn't have done that to you."

Dean gave him a disbelieving look, and Sam's chest tightened.

"We have a deal," his brother only muttered in response, looking away. The tears did not hide the hopelessness in his eyes. "So … what now, Sam?" he asked dully. "You want another go?" He struggled to sit up, to turn over, before Sam hurriedly shook his head.

Sam didn't entirely know how to use his demonic powers for the purposes of good, but he was going to fix this. He reached out to the yellow smoke and tentatively swirled them over Dean, terribly relieved when the reddened bite marks on Dean's throat began to disappear, and the other marks of ill-usage vanished.

Dean released the harsh breath he had been holding and relaxed his grip on the sheets. "Thanks," he murmured. "You … you didn't have to do that."

"No, I really did," Sam disagreed absolutely, burying his face in the crook of Dean's shoulder. From the way his brother stiffened, he knew that Dean had not expected this kind of gentle intimacy, touch without a violent desire intent on only Sam's pleasure.

"Do you—" Dean swallowed hard and stammered uncertainly. "Do you, uh, want to do something else?"

Sam was about to say no, that Dean should just rest and recover, when he had an idea which, now that Dean was healed, should work to replace the memory of his prior experience. He gripped Dean's hips and tilted them higher than previously, until his ass rubbed against Sam's cock, which was beginning to take interest in this new development. "I do," he agreed.

Dean's expression immediately shuttered closed, and his hands moved unconsciously to grasp the sheets again. "Fine."

"Wait—" Sam floundered. "Can I? I mean—I want to show you something. Something good."

Dean's tight expression told him what he thought of that, and his next words were caustic. "I said you can do you what you want. So do it, Sammy."

"I don't want to hurt you," Sam said sincerely before he recognized how stupid that sounded in light of earlier events. "I mean—I'll make it good for you."

Silence. Dean only tensed further.

Sam would prove it to him, then. He leaned away just enough to slowly tease his quickly filling cock around the nervously fluttering rim of Dean's hole, and Dean made a small sound of surprised pleasure that was quickly aborted.

By the time Sam was done, he was determined to have Dean completely lose control.

Encouraged by Dean's reaction, Sam breached him only very, very shallowly and the tip of his cock was suddenly squeezed tight in Dean's heat. Fuck. Actually, Sam wasn't sure he wouldn't lose control first.

Dean lifted his gaze to Sam in confusion when his brother reluctantly pulled back out. "What—?" he started to ask.

"I'm going to take it really slow. Tell me if it starts to hurt," Sam said.

"I told you already—"

"Tell me," Sam insisted.

Dean stared at him, brow furrowed, and then nodded. "I—alright."

Taking a deep breath, Sam repeated what he had done before, a little bit at a time. The damage to Dean had been repaired, but inside he was still slippery with lubricant and come, so this time Sam slipped in much easier, until … until the crack of Dean's ass was flush against Sam's balls.

This—this was absolutely a better position, impossible as that seemed. Sam shook with need, but paused, hard as it was, and took a long minute to simply stare. Dean lay on the bed covered with a sheen of perspiration, breath stuttering in his chest, eyes shut to reveal only a sliver of green and lashes glimmering wetly, his taut body straining and stretching—but not tearing—to accommodate Sam's girth.

Sam thought wildly that he had never seen anything more beautiful.