The hotel room was one of the better one's they'd had had in the past, in that it had free satellite TV and the beds weren't hard as a brick. The younger Winchester relaxed appreciatively against the pillows of his bed, stretching his taught muscles as far as he could. It'd been a long drive, and he was glad for the creature comforts. His brother walked towards the door with a newspaper under his arm, bowed legs swinging with ease. Long drives never seemed to affect him the way they did Sam; but then again, Dean had been driving the Impala since he was sixteen.
"Going 'ta get some grub, you want anything?" Dean said loudly, foot already out the door. Sam shook his head in reply, reaching onto his bedside table to grab the TV remote. With a shrug of his shoulders, Dean was out the door. Sam smiled appreciatively at it; usually it was Sam who went on food runs, but his brother must have noticed how edgy he'd been lately. How thoughtful.

He turned his attention back to the TV, only just noticing what was actually on it. His palms felt a little sweaty as a bodacious woman leant over, exposing her fishnetted legs and ass to the camera, and her come-hither eyes framed with fake lashes and plenty of eyeliner met his through the screen. It wasn't that Sam hadn't watched porn before – he DID own a computer. It had just…been a long time. He looked at the door sheepishly; juuust making sure his brother was really gone, before settling back on the pillows to watch the slightly less attractive male rub a rough hand between her thighs. She moaned in an exaggerated manner when he began to rub her clit furiously, and the camera panned in to his hands doing their work. Sam found himself examining them more closely. They were strong and coarse from obvious hard work (not related his current job, assumedly), and when they parted her womanly folds Sam noticed he was touching his own fingers. It was kind of weird – all things considered he should be touching his cock right about now, but he was transfixed by the size and…dexterity of the man's fingers, made more obvious when he added another one of them to the woman. He teased her with one hand while thrusting in with the other, and Sam leaned forward to skim a tentative hand across the front of his own jeans. His cock stirred a little in response, but he hesitated, looking down at his own hands again. It just wasn't the same…his hands were big, but the fingers were slender and pointed – it wasn't what he wanted.

The faint click of the door opening reached his ears, and Sam scrambled for the remote. He cringed, utterly mortified, when he hit a button that made the volume double. The woman's filthy moans echoed around the room, and he jabbed desperately at a few more buttons while his brother set some groceries on the table, an amused smirk plastered on his face. Finally, the welcoming whurr and crinkle of static made itself known as the TV powered down, and Sam had a look on his face that was akin to a deer caught in the headlights as Dean stared at him from across the room.

"Gosh, Sammy. Did I interrupt something?" Sam's cheeks flared a glorious shade of red and Dean chortled, loving how he could so easily add to Sam's embarrassment. "If you needed some…'alone time' for a bit, the shower's right there."
Sam smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was just looking. I swear you caught me channel hopping."
"True, you didn't have your hand down your pants, but I think Little Sammy still wants some attention-" he looked pointedly at the beginnings of a tent in Sam's jeans, covering his mouth with a hand to stifle the laughter bubbling up from his chest. Sam said nothing, too ashamed to even move. He'd been caught in the throes of orgasm once when they were younger, and he knew Dean was thinking about it right now. Mercifully, Dean turned his back on the flustered younger Winchester and rummaged through his goodie bag for the bag of chips he'd bought. Dean could be cruel and child-like with his teasing, but he was still Sam's big brother and knew when to quit.

Sam sat up cross-legged on his bed when Dean sauntered over, perching on the edge and ripping the bag open with his hands. Sam wondered why he sat here and not on his own bed, but he soon didn't care when Dean started eating. He couldn't help staring at his HANDS. They were…almost exactly the same as the man in the video's. Rough, short, square…powerful. Dean looked quizzically over at his younger brother who had begun to stare. He slowed down his movements in a moment of confusion, and noticed right away it was his hands that had caught the attention of the floppy-haired man. He cocked an eyebrow but said nothing, and instead licked some flavoring off one of his fingers – the child in him wanted to see Sammy's reaction. And boy, what a reaction it was. Sam's pupils dilated to inhuman proportions and he folded his hands awkwardly on his lap, as though to hide something. He whipped his head away and stared blankly out of the nearest window, attempting to control his breathing, and now it was Dean's turn to gape.

Sam was making small, flicking motions with his hands that were still buried in his lap, and he obviously thought they were subtle. But Dean noticed, all right. Testing a theory, Dean turned away nonchalantly and rustled the bag loudly, scraping a wet finger along the bottom to scoop up the crumbs before inserting it back into his mouth and sucking it. He felt eyes on him again instantly, and grinned inwardly when he heard Sam's breath hitch.

So. Sam had the hots for him.
That was cool, he could work with that.

He scraped the very tip of his finger along his bottom lip, letting a drawn-out sigh of satisfaction escape them before crumpling the bag and throwing it onto the ground.
"Enjoy the show, Sammy?" He chuckled, turning his head slowly to look at him. The younger one seemed perplexed for a few seconds, but attempted to shrug it off.
"I um, I told you, I was channel surf-"
"Not what I meant."
"Oh." He pondered. "Then…?"
"Yeah." Dean answered, crawling towards Sam on hands and knees.
"Oh."

"What did he do next, Sammy?" Dean crooned into his ear, his stubble making a rasping sound as he nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He was practically straddling Sam on the bed now, his hands managing to fish out Sam's sizeable cock from the front of his jeans. The younger brother answered with a throaty sound, his chin lifting ever so slightly while Dean's stocky fingers continued to abuse his tip like a woman's clit. Dean's hands promised experience, and they stroked and flicked mercilessly in a way that made the younger Winchester's toes curl.
"He put…" Sam choked, and his knees separated brazenly - unable to quite get the words out. The man above him smiled knowingly into his collarbone, planting a small kiss before his other hand trailed up the inside seam of Sam's jeans.
"He fucked that slut with his fingers, didn't he." He whispered, his tongue flicking out to make a fine trial along his exposed throat. "Teased her until she fucking begged for it, until her hips were thrusting back."
Sam shuddered at the filthy words and turned his face away. He'd never been one for dirty talk, and it kinda sucked to realize too late that it actually really fucking turned him on, if his leaking cock was anything to go by. Or maybe it was just when those words were uttered from Dean's delectable, slightly pink lips. Either way, it was doing things to him.

"Y-Yeah…" Sam moaned, and not even he was sure if it was meant as a reply. Dean took it as one anyway, sliding Sam's jeans halfway down his thighs and wasting no time in finding Sam's waiting hole. Sam's chest expanded in a quick gasp as a finger breached him, and images of the woman in the porn video flashed before his closed eyes. They were one for a brief moment as he reacted in the same way she did; biting his lower lip and rising to meet the finger as it began to slowly, almost carefully start an invading rhythm. Dean was transfixed, watching the other man's face with a hawk-like intensity. Sam opened his eyes and met the passionate gaze, and he couldn't help the small gulp in his throat. Dean licked his lips unconsciously while inserting another finger, and Sam couldn't bear looking at him anymore as he arched his back and threw his head to the side, the pillow muffling his cries. He'd come in no time if he looked anymore, it was almost too much.

"What happened next?" Dean inquired, his voice low and husky while picking up the pace slightly with his fingers. Sam's muscles contracted around them, which made the older brother inhale a little too quickly at the thought of replacing the fingers with something else. "Did he fuck her hard until she didn't know her own name?" Sam's thighs trembled and his breathing came in quick, drawn-out pants. "Dean…" His voice wavered a little. "Dean, o-oh - fuck…me." It seemed the little game was over. "Just fuck me."

Again it was Dean's turn to stare, as his Sammy writhed beneath him in ecstasy. He'd thought about his brother like this before. In his mind, they were both going to hell anyway – a cryptic thought maybe, but what was one more sin to add to the growing pile? They'd both sinned more than enough for the populace of a small town, but actually seeing his brother panting with need was another thing entirely. He wasn't prepared for the possessive way his own body moved in response, grinding up against the man below him and taking…just fucking TAKING his mouth with a rough kiss. Sam's demeanor changed almost instantly at the gesture; his hips snapped up and his nails raked Dean's back as a growl filled his mouth, pulling the man above as close to him as he could. Dean bit deeply into Sam's exposed neck, while his hands were busy teasing at his nipples. Sam's noises were driving him crazy, oh god, he wanted him so BAD. They were both panting now, and Dean almost ripped Sam's jeans from him before plunging inside, riding his little brother's ass for all he was worth. Sam's eyes scrunched up with pleasure – the pain was easy to ignore, but the feeling of Dean finally being inside him after all these years was overwhelming.

"Sammy." Dean sobbed, picking up the pace. "Sammy, oh god…love you so much. Ahh…" Sam's fingers threaded through Deans hair and pulled, twisted, so fucking roughly as the mattress began to squeak with the force of their lovemaking.
"DEAN!" he cried out, his cock shuddering and ejaculating warm seed over both of their stomachs. He'd never felt this with such force, and he couldn't stop moaning Dean's name even if he tried – Dean was still plowing him, his muscles contracting and relaxing in time with his irregular movements. Sam leaned up and crashed their mouths together, forcing his tongue inside and increasing his grip on Dean's hair to pull him closer. He felt a jet of hot cum wash his insides, and he quivered as the older Winchester moaned loudly into his mouth before his arms gave way. He landed less than gently on top of him, and his breathing was impossibly deep, as though he'd sprinted ten miles without stopping.

"Dean…holy shit." Was all Sam said. He felt Dean nod curtly, his face resting against his chest, and he would have chuckled right then and there if he hadn't have passed out. He did have one final thought, though.

He sure did like hands.