Missing scene: Playthings

Sometimes Sam was too much of a temptation to him. In the same room day in and day out, sharing the same bathroom, watching him undress when he wasn't looking; it was too much. And now, Sammy is lying in front of him, about to pass out and in true girlish fashion, he tried to show Dean just how much he loved him before Dean had shoved him away. Had Dean had a few drinks in him, he just may have let Sam take his face and kiss him. Then he could blame it on the alcohol. What a bitch.

Dean rubbed his hands through his hair. It was wrong to stare at him lying there. His brother had just asked him to watch out for him, to kill him if he turned into something that he's not, because dad knew what was going to happen. Because dad made him promise. Maybe if dad knew what Dean was turning into, the thoughts he sometimes had about his little Sammy, he might not have trusted him with that responsibility.

Dean leaned forward and touched the patch of skin that peeked out from under Sam's white t-shirt, just above the waist of his jeans. He stroked two fingers back and forth on Sam's soft skin, barely rubbing under the band of his boxers.

Sam stirred and Dean's breath hitched in his chest. He pulled his hand back like Sam's skin had turned to fire. What the fuck was he doing?

He got up and went for the whiskey that Sam had so generously helped himself too earlier. He poured himself a few shots into the crystal glass and threw them back one after another, watching Sam. Dean's pupils began to dilate as his internal dialog about things that he shouldn't do to his brother raced through his mind.

Dean poured another drink and took his jacket off before he picked the glass up and went back to the chair next to the bed. He leaned back letting the whiskey slip down his throat and slowly rubbed his hand over the crotch of his jeans. He was hard and it felt good. The alcohol was beginning to numb his fingers and his guilt. Dean used one hand to undo his jeans and slipped his hand in to massage himself. He kept sipping the whiskey and thought about the things he could do with his brother; to his brother. It was sickfuckedupwrong, but he sought to comfort himself with the one man he knew he loved more than anything in the world. He certainly couldn't kill him.

He wondered what it would be like to kiss another man. To hold a man, his brother, like he's held countless women; putty in his hands. Dean slipped his hand into his boxers and began to stroke himself while he thought about Sam's lips on him. Would Sam be eager to please him? Would he get on his knees in front of him and look up at Dean while he sucked him off? Would he let Dean come in his mouth?

Dean removed his hand from his pants, placed the empty glass on the wood floor next to the chair and kneeled next to the bed. Dean admired Sam's back and gently let his fingers brush down the back of Sam's shirt onto his jeans. He admired the curve of Sam's waist and the way his jeans slung low on his hips. Dean got up and sat on the bed next to Sam and turned him over.

Dean leaned over Sam, whiskey heavy on his breath, and Sam's eyes fluttered open. Sam looked sad and serious and just as it seemed he would start with the "you have to kill me" bullshit, he reached up and took Dean's head, pulled him down and kissed him.

Dean was careful in how he responded; gauging the kiss for what it was. But when Sam opened his mouth and let his tongue touch Dean's lips, it was clear to him. Dean welcomed it and opened his mouth in return.

Dean leaned over Sam, laying his body next to his brothers and brushing his hair from his face. He felt the day's stubble on the side of his face as he licked and sucked on his brother's lips. It wasn't like kissing a woman…it was different, harder, more needy.

"Dean, don't leave me. Save me….." and Dean covered Sam's mouth with his to stop him from saying it again.

Even with the whiskey clouding his judgment, Dean knew this was wrong. It was wrong, but that hadn't stopped him from fantasizing about it and a fantasy is usually better left at that, but his brother was urging him on, pulling him close and the alcohol was pulling on his brain. This is right.

Dean could feel Sam's excitement pressing into him and he lowered his hand to unbutton Sam's pants. He reached inside to feel his brother, the length of him pulsing with need. When he gripped his cock, Sam pulled back to look Dean in the eyes.

"Fuck!" Dean had gone too far. He pulled his hand back and stood up from the bed, buttoning his jeans, kicking himself mentally for molesting his drunk, emotionally vulnerable brother. Why did he think he could get away with that? Dean grabbed his jacket.

"Dean, wait." Sam sat up in the bed, his jeans still open and drunkenly fell to his knees at his brother's feet. "Don't go."

Dean turned and looked down at his brother, angry that he had let himself act on his fantasies.

"What Sam? What the fuck are we doing here?"

Sam reached up and tugged at the front of Dean's jeans and pulled him close. Sam unbuttoned Dean's pants and pulled them down to expose his strained erection.

"You're saving me."

Sam leaned forward and grabbed the base of Dean's cock with his left hand, guiding it into his mouth.

Dean pulled in a deep breath and reached out to hold the top of Sam's head.

"Shit, Sam."

Sam used his casted hand to pull Dean's hips forward, to suck as much as he could; in and out.

It felt soft and warm, like a woman's mouth and Dean ran Sam's long hair through his fingertips and felt the silkiness of it. He closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head back. Sam was sucking him so hard, he's not going to be able to hold on much longer. Dean reached down and grabbed both sides of Sam's head and began to set a pace. His brother was looking up at him now and Dean was fascinated by how it looked to have his dick slide in and out of his soft, slick mouth.

"….I'm going to come in your mouth…." It was Dean's demand and Sam made no move to try to evade it, he let Dean fuck his mouth and just held onto his hips.

Dean came so hard, his vision went black for just a moment. Sam gagged a little, surprised at the taste, but swallowed and wiped his mouth. He stood slowly and pulled Dean's jeans back up, struggling with the button because of his cast. Dean finished the job for him and they stood staring at each other.

Sam leaned forward and kissed Dean, hard on the lips. Dean could taste a tang on Sam's tongue and he pulled Sam close. Dean reached into Sam's boxers, which had been freed when his jeans had simply fallen to his knees. Sam was hard and pressing into Dean's leg. Dean stepped to the side and began to jerk his brother off, all the while kissing him and holding him tight. Dean moved his hand with experience, the same way he would get off at night thinking about Sam sleeping in the next bed; thinking about Sam's hand on his dick instead of his own.

Sam came with a jolt, saying Dean's name into his mouth and then resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean sat him down on the bed and could see Sam's eyes were starting to close. The sex and the emotion, coupled with the alcohol had taken its toll on Sam. Dean wiped his hand on the sheet and stripped Sam's pants off and covered him up. Sam fell immediately asleep.

With a woman, he might have laid down next to her and fallen asleep in the aftermath of sex, but somehow that seemed too intimate, like something lovers would do, but they weren't lovers, they were brothers…and it was confusing. Dean picked up his jacket, put it on and headed out of the room.

As he descended the stairs, he mulled his thoughts of the case with thoughts of his brother's eyes looking at him, needy for protection from himself. Dean headed to the bar, hoping a few drinks would numb his urge to wake his brother again; to try and fulfill the other fantasies he's had.

And when he sipped his drink, and the bartender pondered what people would think if they knew what went on in some of those rooms, he had to chuckle….and get his mind back on the case.