Nicholas: Heh, Becki's fault. Took me a few days...It wasn't Becki's fault in the sense that she gave me the idea. I was the one who asked her to act as Sam during the phone call and the parts where he ignores the messages. Then she pulled a dead line on me. I made it by a half hour, people!

Disclaimer: If I were Eric Kripke, what would I do? You can read that below!

Rating: M...sex...language...angst that leads to sex and language...

The first time Dean called Sam at Stanford…

I woke up in a cold sweat from that nightmare I thought I'd die in. No, no, no, no, no still rang in my ears along with that damned image. Sam…little Sammy ripped to pieces. Shreds of what was once a 6'4" tall man were scattered across the forest floor. So much blood, so much gore, I couldn't handle it. I couldn't begin to pick up the pieces. God, no! Why would God do this to me? No, no, no. SAMMY!

It took maybe two hours for me to control my breathing and quell the incessant shakes that racked my body. I wanted to vomit, but I couldn't get up; couldn't move in time to get to the bathroom. When I looked, my hands were still covered with the shadows of brother's blood, the smell still reached my nostrils. God, I'd never felt this alone before. Especially when I remembered that I was.

I looked around the motel room to see Dad's bed empty and unmade. The man was off somewhere again without so much as a "see you later." Shivering breaths forced their way in and out of my lungs as I scanned the room for Sam. "That's right," I muttered to myself quietly. "…Stanford."

Sam had called and left a phone number a while ago—maybe four months. He had said something about a girlfriend he was living with. I tried not to let that bug me as I picked up my cell from the nightstand and dialed a number I didn't know I'd memorized. It rang for a while and the answering machine picked up. "Hi you've reached Sam and Jess. Leave a message and we'll get back to you." It was Sam's voice but…

The first time Sam ignored Dean's call…

Fuck, but school is killing me. And getting home this late can pretty much guarantee dinner and sex are a no go. But, this is the life I wanted after all. No room for bitching. Getting into the apartment, I heard the answering machine click off, meaning that I had just missed a message. Now, who in their right mind would call this late? And yeah, sure my brother's name popped into my head. But, he had made it perfectly clear when I left for school he wanted nothing more to do with me. That fleeting moment of hope passed and was replaced with annoyance.

After dropping my book bag on the floor, I replayed the message. Well hell, it was Dean.

"Hey Sammy, I—" There was a long pause, "It's Dean...I'm sorry if I'm calling late, not real used to the timezone thing. I haven't talked to you in a while and..." A bit of rustling arose from the background and Dean muttered "shit" so quietly that he probably thought the phone didn't pick it up. I tried not to smile. "...I just--if you could call me back, I'd appreciate it. I just wanna talk to you. I need to know that you're okay. Thanks. I'm debating saying that I love you, but...bye."

I replayed it a few times more, just listening to the deep cadence of his voice. The voice that used to lull me to sleep, scream at me when I fucked up, seduce me when I was being too stupid to know better. He sounded depressed and lonely. I almost wanted to call him back and tell him I miss him, and that I love him too. But, he's just calling to upset the still waters in my life, so he'll not get the rise out of me that he wants. Nope, I was intent going to bed, and waking up my pretty little girlfriend. I was going to fuck her senseless and when I came, I was definitely not going to picture Dean. Definitely not!

The second time Dean called Sam…

I had been going through all the things we owned, packing up the necessities. We seemed to throw out a lot of our belongings every time we moved somewhere else. There wasn't much left to throw out this time, but I sorted the stuff anyway. It was then that I found the knife. I'm not sure why, but the moment I saw it, I knew it was Sam's. Personally, I wasn't a knife kind of guy. I prefer guns and firearms. Sammy was the up, close and personal fighter.

I looked at it for the longest time, just sitting on my bed with all this crap spread out in front of me. It had been three weeks since I called Sam, since the nightmare. He hadn't called back. I couldn't really expect him to, but…This was his knife and I had told him before he left that he needed to watch his back. How stupid did he have to be to leave this behind? I picked up my cell, dialed; once more, I got the answering machine. "Hi, you've reached Sam and Jess…blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah."

"Hey Sam, it's Dean again...Did you get my last message? Are you just ignoring me or something? That's cool, I guess." I tried to bite back the bitter tone in my voice. "I found something of yours. That knife with the brown and black hilt...I'm just calling to tell you, if you want it back, I'll be willing to meet you somewhere...Hell, I'll drive up to Stanford, if you really want me to. Just--call me, okay? Please. I--I guess I miss you, and...You don't know what I'd do just to hear from you. Please...Call me, tell me to fuck myself, something, anything. Just..." My phone interrupted me by saying "this call has been dropped due to a weak signal."

The second time Sam ignored Dean's call…

Man finals were killing me. I nearly forgot my and Jess' anniversary. I hadn't had time to do anything other than .study. So when Jess left me a post-it on the microwave telling me there was a saved message on the machine from my "brother with the sexy voice" I simply smiled. Couldn't tell if the smile was because I agreed that his voice is sexy, or if it was because she was leaving post-its because she knew I'd be home late and she wouldn't be up. I could only imagine what he wanted now. Could possibly be that he was pissed I didn't get around to calling him back all those weeks ago?

I was standing in front of the desk, leaning against it listening to Dean's (sexy) voice. And yeah, I'd have loved to meet up with him and see him. But get the knife back? No, that was just a reminder of the life I had left behind. He should have know better. This was probably the only reason he could come up with to contact me. And, I'll give him credit, he found a good one cause I did really like that knife. But it wasn't reason enough for me to put my life on hold and go running to him. Damn him for being so arrogant to think I would anyway. No matter how much I miss him, love him, need him. I had made my decision and I was sticking to it. Fuck!

The third time Dean called…

I never did understand why Sam fought with Dad. I've only experienced an argument with the man a few times and it is a horrible experience. I hate that feeling I get when I yell at him, when he yells back, but this time was a bit different. His words: "Don't be such a fairy, Dean," that struck me hard. If I hadn't controlled myself I would have hit him. Without a second thought, I picked up the phone. "Hi you've reached Sam and his bitch, blah, blah, blah."

"Sam…damnit, Sam, I can't stand this. I need to talk to you, not your goddamned answering machine. You're my go to for everything, my other, fucking half. Well, you were." I lost some of my former fire saying that. "Did I say something a long time ago that I shouldn't have said? What did I do? Tell me! Please, for the love of all that is holy, don't ignore me. I'm spilling my heart out over here…please, just…pick up the phone. Please? I need you…there, I said it. I need you, Sammy. Please…"

The third time Sam ignored Dean…

Of course he'd call right now. Sounding all pleading and vulnerable. Right when Jess has her pretty little mouth wrapped tightly around my dick, sucking me off like it's her only goal in life. I should be ashamed that just the sound of his voice booming from the machine gets me off and I'm coming down Jess' throat without so much as a grunt to warn. But, I'm not. Instead I'm pulling Jess into my arms and chasing my taste off of her tongue with my own. I'm needy now, I'm open and vulnerable. It's Dean's voice that did that to me. Sure, he might not know exactly what I was in the middle of when he thought to call, but I bet the smug bastard knows what he's doing to me with these calls. I want to call him back and tell him no, he didn't say anything wrong. Well, other than saying nothing at all when I said I was leaving. I'd have stayed if only he'd asked. But, well, he's Dean and he doesn't do emotional. That is, until he discovered the beauty of my fucking answering machine.

The fourth time…

I couldn't wait more than two days. He still hadn't called me. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. "Hi you've reached GOD I DON'T FUCKING CARE!!!"

"Do you hate me, or something? Am I just that stupid to be holding my phone almost constantly waiting for it to ring?" Gritting my teeth, I decided to let myself say whatever came to mind. "I bet you're sitting there listening to this with that bitch girlfriend of yours…Fuck! Answer the phone…Do you get your kicks from this? I'm losing my mind over here! I know what you think about every time I call. I know that you remember what we used to be like. Back when loved me like nothing else. You loved me a hell of a lot more than you can love that Jessica chick. Is she there? I hope she can hear this—just…c'mon, Sam…please, baby, just answer the phone, just once…"

…Sam picked up…

A moment to myself to actually take a shit and read the paper was apparently too much to ask for because as soon as I sat my ass down on the cold toilet seat, the fucking phone rings. Screw it; answering machines were invented for a reason, right? Wrong, because the voice that echoes through my empty apartment belongs to the one person I could live without hearing from ever again but die if it actually happened. He sounds pretty fucked up. I can't let this continue, so I find myself wiping my ass and bolting to the phone. He's going on and on about wanting Jess to hear his message and he's calling me 'baby' and he is reminiscing about what we used to be. Back before I left. And yes, I miss that. Miss that like I'd miss breathing… Fuck! I pick up the phone, which cuts off the machine, "She's isn't even here you dick. Nice try." Harsh words, but I use my special 'I-love-you-and-you're-my-everything' voice so he'll know it's meant without hate.

And finally they talked…

"Don't give me that, bitch," Dean breathed into the phone with so much relief that he thought he'd melt.

"Jerk," Sam whispers back with a sad smile. A pause and then, "I don't hate you Dean, not at all."

Dean leaned his head against the phone, the last month and a half of stress finally easing away from him. "Thank god. I was about to kill myself via phone call if you hadn't picked up."

"Dean, don't say things like that." Sam paused briefly to swallow down the lump that formed from the thought of actually losing his brother. "I couldn't stand to lose you, ya know?"

"How in god's name did you ignore me this long?" Dean demanded harshly.

Sam was angered by the sudden change in Dean's voice, and growled at him, "It was simple really. I just reminded myself that if you wanted to see me bad enough, you'd be here on my doorstep not on my phone leaving messages that you know damn well my girlfriend could hear. Which, by the way, don't be fucking talking like that about Jess; she's a good girl."

"Yeah, that will go over well," he snickered in reply, " 'Hey Dad, you're other son is going to Stanford to kidnap his baby brother. Be back in a few days.' Are you insane?" Still, Dean was way too delighted to hear Sam's living, breathing voice that he couldn't keep his happiness out of his tone.

"Because standing up to Dad on my behalf would be too much for you. Even after all we've been through together? Really Dean, I thought I meant more to you than that…" And Sam made sure to emphasize the 'togetherness'he was referring to.

"Ah hell," Dean faded off a bit, lying back in the motel bed with a slightly contented, slightly annoyed sigh. "I'm sorry Sam."

"You're sorry for what Dean, not coming for me? not standing up to Dad? calling me and forcing me back into the life I left behind on purpose? What is it you're sorry for?"

"I'm sorry for taking so long to stop being an idiot."

Sam sighs heavily. "I'm sorry too. I should have called you back. I was just being stubborn. Hey, I am a Winchester aren't I? It's in my genetic make up."

"I hear that. To tell you the truth, Sam, I was planning on coming up there but…I was afraid you'd tell me to fuck off as soon as I got there. We didn't really part on the best of terms, did we?" Dean wrapped an arm loosely around himself.

"Hmmm, no we really didn't, but…" Sam's now seated on his couch, legs tucked under his weight, phone cradled against his ear. "But, we're still brothers Dean, always. And, we've always been much closer than average brothers ya know. Or did you forget that about us already?"

"Hell no. Sammy, I've wanted to hold you so bad that it's kind of embarrassing."

"Dean, I… you… we… man, I miss you." it's a whispered admission that causes Sam to cringe as soon as it escapes his mouth.

Dean chewed on his lower lip and considered that in a thoughtful pause. "I'm glad…do you miss me enough to come back to me?"

"Do you want me back bad enough to leave Dad and come for me?" Really, that should be all the answer Dean needs.

"I'd leave right now if I thought you'd let me take you away with me. Hell, I even think I'd be happy never seeing Dad's face again if I got to kiss you again." Soft fingers ghosted over his lips and he let the fantasy of kissing his brother fill up his mind's eyes.

"Then leave right now. I'll pack my shit and be on the fucking doorstep waiting for you, Dean, if that'll make it quicker. Come get me. Now."

Without hesitation, Dean threw himself out of bed and snatched his jacket from the table. "I'm leaving now," he said, rushing out of the room like a whirlwind. "But don't hang up yet...I...wanna talk more."

"Wait, really Dean? You'll drop everything to come for me? I…You must really miss me." While Sam was shocked Dean would just up and leave their Dad, he knew deep down that Dean would come for him once he'd been given the go ahead. "I don't know what to say." Sam whispered happily.

"Say that you love me," Dean said, rustling with the keys and starting his dear Impala. He patted the dashboard as if to say "we're going to get Sammy." "Say that you've wanted me as much as I've wanted you the last few months."

"God Dean, of course I love you. So much, brother. Fuck! And I do want you. The last time you called, I got off just hearing your voice. I miss you that much. You're really coming for me? You're not just saying you're on your way here to end up at some random bar. Right, you're… are you?" Sam's eyes wetted just imagining the possibility that Dean was just messing with him. Payback maybe, for Sam leaving him to begin with.

"Of course I'm gonna come get you," Dean snapped as if it were the most obvious, easy to believe thing in the world. He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. It felt so good be driving somewhere with a real purpose under his tires. "Wait…you got off from just my voice? Really…what was that like?"

Of course Dean would pick up on that little tidbit instead of taking more time to reassure Sam. Pervert. "Dean, do you really want to know this? I mean, you're driving aren't you?"

"Oh come on, I'm driving the Impala. There's no way I'd jeopardize the safety of this car." He took out the tape from the stereo and tossed in the box on the floor of his car. "C'mon, tell me Sammy. Please…" He whined slightly.

"Jess was, um… you know. We were in the living room and…" Telling Dean that his dick was in another's mouth was definitely the worst idea Sam could come up with, yet he knew Dean wanted to hear it. "That's when the machine picked up and I heard your voice Dean. Fuck, I got so hard. I mean, I was to begin with but, it was just… harder. Fuck! I just, I came so damn fast. I couldn't even warn her."

Dean could imagine that in his mind's eye. Not that he particularly liked thinking about a woman on his Sam's dick. Man it was good to think of him as HIS Sam again. The thought sent an image through his mind of him kneeling before his brother and sucking him off, making him come that hard. "So I make you harder than a rock, Sammy?" he lowered his voice to his favorite sexual drawl. Man he hadn't used that in a long time. "That's good to know. So…what are you wearing?"

God, that tone of voice of Dean's? Yeah it sent all the available blood rushing south to Sam's awakening cock. Sam moaned softly, "I'm wearing sleep pants and socks. You… what're you – what have you got on baby?" Sam knows this is a bad idea, considering Dean is driving, but he can't help picturing the last time he was in that impala, riding Dean like a fucking champion bull rider.

Dean made a little adjustment to the picture and had Sam bare-chested, on a couch with his pants around his knees and socked feet curling against the floor. "Jeans and a T-shirt I've been wearing the last two days. And my favorite denim jacket." He couldn't help the rush of heat that ran straight to his groin. In fact, he embraced it so that he could stay focused on the street in front of him. "God, Sammy when I get there I'm gonna need some immediate attention, got that?"

"Gladly. What do you want, hmmm? My mouth? You always loved it when I deep-throated you. Or maybe, my hand wrapped tightly around you? Put these big ol' paws to good use. Or you gonna want to sink right into me. I can… whatever you want Dean. Just tell me." Sam couldn't control himself any longer, pushing the heel of his palm to rub against the painful erection this conversation had given him.

With a content groan, Dean cracked his window a bit, the cool air of night keeping him alert even through this arousal of his. "God, yes…Sammy, I wanna fuck you," he growled seductively. "I want you hot and tight around me, baby. God, I want that."

Giving his pants a tug and his hips a shimmy, Sam had his pants down to his feet before tossing them off. "You gonna want to open me up first. Or, or I could do it while you watched. You um, you still wanna see me like that Dean?"

"Mmm…yeah." Just for a second, Dean reached down and rubbed the stiff erection beneath his jeans. "Love to see you like that, hot like a bitch in heat. Gonna make you scream, Sammy boy. Gonna fuck you so hard, baby boy. Right in that goddamned living room where I know you fucked her."

Sam was down right panting now, so worked up over a few words and that damn voice of Deans. "Dean, I need to… talk me through it, please?" Sam half-whined, half whispered. "Pull over first, Dean. Don't want you to end up wrecking the car and hurting yourself. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Fuck, I love you so much." Sam's fist loosely stroking his erection from root to tip.

Taking a few breaths, Dean considered arguing that he didn't need to pull over that it would just take him that much longer to get there. Then he realized that it was better that way. Glancing behind him, he checked for oncoming traffic and then pulled off to the side of the road before parking. "Love you too, babe," he cooed into the phone.

"Yes, you better love me."

Scooting on the seat, he got out from under the steering wheel to give himself some room. "What are you doing right now?"

"Shit, I'm… um. I'm stroking myself. I've got my pants off already. I-fuck." Sam really couldn't concentrate on talking now, just the sounds of Dean's breathing in his ear from miles and miles away. "You too? I mean, you're gonna, we're – at the same time, yeah?"

"Uh-huh," it was a positive response as Dean undid his pants one-handed and shoved them down just below his hips. He held tightly to himself as he concentrated on the phone call at hand. "Do something for me, yeah? Use a finger." He dragged his hand along his hard length.

Breathy and with a smile he knew the other could hear, Sam agreed, "Anything for you, you know that." The cordless phone now cradled between his shoulder and ear, both his hands exploring his body at Dean's request; one continuously stroking his length, the other, slicked with his own pre-come, pushing into his own willing body slowly.

Dean's body leaned heavily into the back of his seat as he sat sideways. He held the phone pressed between his ear and the cool leather.

"Dean, you picturing me there with you, like it's really my hand stroking you off, hmmm?"

"I'm picturing you here," Dean agreed. "I want you here." He jerked a bit harder on himself and his other hand ran down his chest, pressed against his heart to try and quell his erratic pulse. "God I want this to be you wrapped around me, not my fucking hand. Sammy, want you so bad!"

"Dean, I'm not gonna last. I, fuck I'm picturing your fucking lips wrapped around me instead of my hand. You know that mouth of yours should be a damn weapon. You could always make me come so fast with just your mouth on me."

Dean groaned loudly, that hot, warm pressure covering him all of the sudden. He held tighter and quickened his pace.

Increasing his speed, Sam could feel his balls tighten and the wonderfully familiar warmth spread through his limbs from his impending orgasm. "Come with me baby, please? And then, come get me?"

"I'm gonna get you, babe," he moaned quietly, "I'm gonna go and get you and I swear I'll be on my knees the second I see you. I'll suck you so hard you don't get a chance to breathe. God, my baby boy, I love you so damn much." His crotch and every muscle around it tightened beyond possibility and his toes curled into the car's upholstery. "Gonna…" and he felt himself tumble over the edge.

"Me too, Dean." Sam practically howled his brother's name as his release shot through him like an electric jolt. Hot white jets streamed over his fist. Riding out the last waves of pleasure, Sam let loose a slight whimper.

"I need you here, now. Please hurry. I-I forgot what you smell like already and, and I hate myself for it. It's my fault, I know… but, you forgive me right? Hurry, 'kay?" Sam knew he sounded like the wounded little brother, but all that mattered was that Dean was really coming to get him so he could be Dean's again.

Then, they reunited…

Nights were usually cold at Stanford, enough to warrant a jacket everywhere he went. However, Sam was content standing in front of the apartments in his pj pants, a T-shirt and a sweater. Nothing could possibly have made him warmer than the thought that Dean was actually coming to get him. The idea itself was enough to keep him on a high so far he would never come down it seemed. He may have been able to see his breath, but the one thing he was actually paying attention for was headlights on the horizon. Shivering only absent-mindedly, he kept his eyes peeled in excitement.

Take me, Dean, he mused to himself. God what he would have given to have something to give his brother, some sort of gift or token of undying love. Yet, he knew how well that would go over. "No click flick moments," Dean would say, or "dude, we may be gay, but don't be gay." It didn't matter either way because those were lights he saw on the street.

Dean swerved semi-maniacally into the lot, the Impala's tires screeching only slightly. What started out as a desperate, break-neck speed quickly depleted to a crawl until he had pulled up right in front of the long, tall and thin man he'd just floored it for two and a half hours for. Excitement made him giddy and slightly loopy, but he tried to push away the other emotion nagging at his eyes. Swiping his hands over moist lids, he threw open the door and ran out to tackle his brother.

There wasn't even a tangible moment between Dean driving up and when there was absolutely no empty space between them. Arms wrapped tightly around torsos and for a moment that was all they needed. Contact was never so sweet as right then when months had grown between them and miles had pushed them apart. It was like over coming the greatest barrier they'd ever experienced, and man, did it feel good.

"God, I missed you," Sam muttered, just against the other's ear.

"You can call me Dean." Despite the lightness to the statement, there was still a lingering strain in his voice. The tension hadn't yet had time to work its wicked way out of his system, but he knew it would happen eventually.

After they'd separated, they started packing the trunk with all of Sam's belongings. It wasn't too hard to pack being that he didn't have much more than what he'd initially left with. What took the longest was actually letting go of each other. Both were content just leaning against the other basking the in the taste of sweet togetherness. Both knew that it would never be as good as it was then, but it was fine. Both wanted desperately to cling to each other on into eternity. However, the task at hand came to mind. So Dean gently pulled himself away from his tall brother and picked up a box to drag to the car.

"A part of me can't believe it," Sam said, shoving his duffle into the spacious trunk and then checking behind him for anything he missed. "I'm worth that much to you that you would drop everything and come straight to get me."

With a smirk, Dean slammed the trunk closed. "What can I say? I'm the knight in shining armor."

These next actions of his were hardly knightly, however. Shoving Sam against the driver's side of the car, he kissed him roughly on the mouth. Hands slid over thin clothes and Dean sought out every inch of his brother that he hadn't had access to for these long months. "Now enough with the chick flick," he snickered against a slightly open mouth, "I have a promise to make true."

"Which one?" Sam inquired, fingers lacing into the short hair of the shorter man.

"I'm gonna make you scream, Sammy," he vowed deeply, kissing, licking, sucking at a taught, tasty neck.

A high-frequency shake slipped through the both of them as they melted into one, passionate, forgotten shape. It was a like riding a bike, getting back into the rhythm of Dean's heart, the grooves of his face, the press of his fingertips. Amidst the frantic grabbing and pulling, kissing and tugging, tongue sneaked from mouth to mouth and then slid over exposed skin.

"Yes Dean," Sam moaned at any opportunity. He always had been a vocal lover. He proved especially so when Dean had gotten the back seat door open and pushed him inside the car. Scooting back, he made as much room as possible for his partner until Dean finally got the door shut and once more smothered his mouth with no room to live without this. He mewled in ecstasy at those loving-rough, rough-loving hands.

Heavy groans and steamy breaths filled the surrounding, stuffy atmosphere. All they could breathe was impeding sex as lean hips ground down on Sam's arousal. Sweaters, coats, shirts, they all didn't survive past check in and this was only because huge, long-fingered hands had a hard time getting the pants undone as well. "Dean," he demanded, "Help. Me." Each word was punctuated with him lifting his head to kiss, tongue, taste a brother's mouth above him.

"Mhm." Other than that, his throat had no room for response. Almost violently, he undid his jeans, but then ignored them. With a slightly pleading moan, he tugged Sam's pjs down as far as he could in the limited, awkward space that the back seat provided. It was then he made a dominating decision. Lifting himself up from the floor to the seat, he dug both of his knees between Sam's thighs and then lifted his legs towards heaven to yank off the opposing clothing. They didn't bother with underwear when it came down to it. Neither of them was wearing any.

The tingles from the phone call hadn't quite faded and neither had Dean's wicked words. As he slid his hand over a stiffening sex organ in his brother's crotch, he said: "Like to make you pant like this." His tongue slid up Sam's abdomen, resulting in curling toes and craning neck. "Love to hear you whine."

Whining, Sam replied, "Fuck, I love you so damn much!"

Ankles were propped on shoulders and a sweaty back slid over dampening leather. Teeth and tongue in a tantalizing twist against hard, pulsing nipples and Sam gripped so hard to Dean's hair. His high-pitched, border-line boyish cries were drowned out only by Dean's deep, almost constant chant of praise and presentiments of pleasure to be given. Sam barely noticed at first when his shorter sibling slipped a sweat-slicked finger inside of him. When he did notice, however:

"Ngh! Oh, yes!" And by the second digit added: "Fuck yes! Yes, Dean. Missed you too much. Been too long." They weren't even sentences anymore. They were just statements, thoughts. All that the boys needed was thoughts and their bond could fill in the blanks.

"I'll be careful, then," Dean stated, voice barely above a sensual purr in the other's ear. Then he wrapped firm lips over Sam's ear lobe and hooked his fingers just right that the man cried out.

"No, don't…just do it…" Sam couldn't get past one hand or the other. Speaking of which, the other hand was gripped tightly around the tall man's tall appendage, pumping slowly and vigorously at the same time. "Take me now…Now, damn it!"

"So demanding."

Whimpering was something Sam would have to become re-accustomed to with this man he loved. "Don't laugh…" He tried to even his breathing, but then he felt the stretch of a third finger within him and he hitched so high. "Don't laugh at me. I need you now, Dean. I needed you two months ago when I got that damn voicemail."

A quiet chuckle on Dean's part, and he steadily removed his fingers. He had to admit, it was hard to keep a train of thought, but this position he slipped in fit like a glove. It kept him aware more to Sam's needs than his own, for that he stayed focused. "Okay, Sam," he mumbled against a firm chest. Two harsh strokes of his own erection had him oh-so-eager. "Kay, Sammy boy."

"Yes, Dean. Please, Dean." The other words—holdmepleasemetakemeFUCKME—had disappeared into a mush of vowel sounds at the pressure of sex against his ass. Deeper, deeper, he felt himself get hotter and hotter in the haze of erotic fuckme atmosphere.

Dean pushed himself all the way into that willing, tight body beneath him. By the time he was balls-deep, his entire form was shaking and his hand hesitated on Sam's dick. Three seconds to recover from the overwhelming sense of SAM, he began to move. He went slow, tried to be gentle no matter how much Sam protested. Screaming was going to be from pleasure not pain. Fisting gripping tight, he jerked up and down, making those squirms and growls intensify.

Curses and insults tumbled half-heartedly from Sam's mouth in such abundance as to make Dean blush. He needed more, needed something, begged for just a bit of he had no idea what. A chant of "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" arose like a swarm of bees and he whined so pitifully that he knew Dean wouldn't be able to resist.

With a shaky smile and an exerted grunt, Dean brought his hips down harder. Pushing those knees closer to Sam's chest, he quickened himself little by little. The burn, the sensation, he knew Sam could feel it too, if not more. "Love you baby," he mewled, hips still hammering like a piston, tightening this lanky form up like clockwork. "Love you more than anything, baby boy." Sloppy kisses fell over Sam's cheeks as Dean started to lose his composure.

It dragged and pressed and scalded and stretched and broke and cried out and bringmehomebabycomeontakemealltheway. Sam didn't know what he was saying anymore, just that he kept getting louder. His voice broke the flute register somewhere during the time Dean was hitting just the right spot inside of him and jerking his prick just right. The mind blurred and colors ran and Sam literally lost it for half a minute. All there was in that back seat was white-hot release and a kettle-pitched screech of what had to be "DEAN!"

Not three seconds later, Dean filled him with his sticky seed. Everything seemed to glisten with wet and orgasm and justsoright steam. The windows were all fogged up and both brothers lay in a massive heap on the cushion, sticking to the leather upholstery. It was the perfect place. Nothing was more perfect than right where they were…Together.