A/N: gotyoulittlebrother on tumblr requested some 2014!Dean and Soulless!Sam, so I acquiesced. Warnings for sexual times and brotherfucking, enjoy!

xXx

There was something about kissing Dean.

Even without a soul, Sam knew that.

He knew this was significant, somehow. He had this swooping feeling in his stomach that he might have mistaken for an emotion, something that Dean was clearly feeling as well.

Even though this was a different Dean – this was a hardened Dean and an angry Dean. This wasn't his Dean, because…

Well, for one, his Dean wouldn't have jumped out of his closet and started shouting about time travel, something about a journal of a man made of letters called Henry, and begging Sam to please, please, not say yes to Lucifer because it would bring about the end of the world.

Then Dean had grabbed his face desperately, said something about meaning to have done this years ago, and kissed him.

Sam thought that maybe he should tell him – Lucifer is in the pit. Apocalypse is over. The you that I know is probably laying in bed with Lisa and having nightmares about watching his little brother being swallowed by the earth.

Maybe it was the fact he was fresh-out-of-hell-Sam, somehow different although he didn't know why, perpetually feeling hungry or horny or angry or violent, no longer needing sleep or food or emotions.

Either way, when Dean dragged his teeth across his lips – too harsh to be the Dean of his time, too full of anger and repressed emotion – Sam bit back harder, forcing his brother's mouth open and plunging his tongue inside. Dean's hands grasped his biceps, too hard, nails biting into skin.

So Sam slammed him back, pushing him up the wall and trailing bites and licks down his neck, hands scrambling at Dean's belt because – although he couldn't formulate the thought of why – he needed his older brother inside of him. He needed to be fucked and claimed and ruined.

There were no breathy moans or half-whispered names, just a pleasured sounding huff of breath when Sam finally pulled Dean's cock out and smeared the precum across the head, pumping to get him fully hard with one hand while he began work on his own jeans with the other.

Dean immediately helped, and soon they were both naked – and there was the emotional side of Dean, sweeping his eyes over Sam's naked form, breath hitching, letting out a low 'Jesus, Sammy' before letting that anger overcome him again.

They tumbled towards the bed, it felt more like fighting than sex. They were both too mad, too different, too fucking in love.

Dean opened him up with spit-slick fingers, pushing and prodding and working in a way that Sam knew meant he had been with other men. Now Sam was feeling antsy, this prickly sensation under his skin that made him clench his hands into fists and punch quietly at Dean's chest, muttering a constant stream of 'do it, do it, do it.'

"Hold on, Sammy." Dean muttered, and Sam wasn't sure if 'hold on' meant give me a minute, or if 'hold on' meant to my fucking shoulders because I am about to pound into your ass so hard that you're going to scream like a girl.

Sam hoped it was the latter, feeling his breath leave him in a relieved puff when the head of Dean's cock smeared precum against the rim of his entrance.

Sam flipped them, sinking onto Dean's length and groaning, his head falling forward to his brother's shoulder as he set a brutal pace, stuffing himself full of Dean over and over until his thighs were shaking and his cock was leaking.

"Shit, Sam." Dean was saying, and then he was moving them as well – his muscles were more hardened than his Dean, his fingers more calloused against Sam's hips as he turned him over until he was on his knees, braced on his elbows, Dean pushing back into his hole from behind and grabbing a fistful of his hair as he restarted the rhythm.

Sam was pushing back against him, groaning shamelessly as Dean slammed into him harder, hand bruising against his hips in a way that meant Sam was going to be feeling this for days.

"Going to come, little brother?" Dean asked, sounding almost mocking.

"Would if you'd fucking touch me," Sam replied, groaning in relief when Dean's hand left his hair in favour of roughly fisting his cock, and then it was almost a race, a fight to the finish.

Soon their rhythm was faltering and Sam had this triumphant feeling of yes before Dean's come was filling him and Sam was not long after, striping the bed and biting down hard on his lip.

And when Dean pulled out Sam just smiled and turned to him, allowing one more kiss.

"Apocalypse is over, Dean." Sam said then, and Dean's eyebrows rose. "Your reality doesn't exist."

Dean just smiled. "God, you're lost." He said it almost mournfully. "When you see the me from this time, kick his ass for letting you get like this, ok? Kick his ass, then grab his face and kiss him."

Sam gave a tight, sarcastic smile and chose not to comment.

It wasn't until later, with pains in his head and a soul in his chest, with visions of Lucifer and memories returning, that he found his older brother and tapped his foot lightly against Dean's ass.

"You told me to do that," Sam said with a shrug, smiling. "And then you told me to do this."