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“You did it again,” Dean tried his damnedest to keep his voice annoyed rather than tense as he opened the motel door to find not two doubles, but a king sized bed. “Sam—”
“How do you know this isn’t all they had?” he commented casually, passing his brother and swinging his bag to the furthest side of the mattress.
Although the door was shut behind him, Dean had yet to move. He watched as Sam unzipped the duffle, noise eerily loud in the dead silence of the room. Rummaging through, he hummed absently while he set a weapon aside for the night, and eyed his clothing. Comparing and contrasting his minuscule wardrobe. Like everything was normal. But it wasn’t.
This stupid game Sam was playing…it was dangerous. It was playing with fire and he kept lighting the match.
Dean knew damn well from the lack of cars in the parking lot that there had to be a surplus of different rooms, which meant plenty of options and different beds.
Sam was being a little shit and pushing boundaries, it looked like tonight he was feeling bold. Which meant Dean needed to be in control, he needed to be the one who refused to give in, the one who kept his head on straight. To do that, he needed to regroup.
Abruptly, Dean blurted out, “I’m gonna jump in the shower,” and shrugged off his jacket before he made a beeline for the bathroom.
He only barely heard the, “Okay, weirdo,” from behind him as he locked himself inside, his mind racing as he readied the water.
Now, Dean was stressed out and his mind was circling over Sam’s motives; what he was thinking, expecting, what was going on in his head!
It only happened once.
Okay, it happened a lot more than once, he couldn't deny it.
But the thing was, is, that they never spoke about it. They never gave whatever ‘it’ was words or brought it up.
Neither man knew if it was just this…pent-up form of release, however they could get it, or if it was maybe kinda sort of something more.
Each time it happened, it was because some kind of dam broke. It was a burst of either adrenaline, emotion, being drunk out of their gourds with sexual energy, or a quick way to stop a fight and remain physical. It was always in the moment. Something animal and uncontrollable overtook them, God, it was the best kind of raw and obscene…
That was, until Sam started towing the line.
Dean liked things just the way they were: unsaid, unpredictable and spur of the moment. Not...premeditated. When it happened like it always had, it made the wrong almost justified in this skewed, grasping-at-straws, kind of way. If they weren’t thinking, if they were just acting, they couldn’t be at fault. Or something. Maybe that was all just an excuse.
Maybe…Dean just wanted to keep it for himself, and that meant close to the chest and not…out in the open like this shit, right here. After all, there was no doubt things were…changing. Little by little.
Sam no longer flinched or corrected anyone who thought they were ‘partners,’ in the Biblical sense. Hell, sometimes he’d grab Dean’s hand and call him an obnoxious nickname like “honey” or “sweetheart,” and Dean told him “darling, I can’t wait to punch you in the face later.”
And this was a prime example! The fucking bed situation!
Sam would act all innocent, because he knew damn well when they were on a hunt there was almost a guarantee one of the items on Dean’s list would get checked off and they would end up tangled together in the end. And it was Sam who wanted to stay that way all through the night. He’d said it before, Sam hated when they went back to their own beds—but how the hell were they supposed to fit on one of those tiny ones?!
Well, it looked like he found the fuckin’ solution to all his problems.
In the process, he was banking on getting laid.
Yeah, Sam was over-confident, but while Dean may have shied away from the idea currently, it would be completely different (every-fucking-thing would change) when they were stumbling back in. Both riding high from the rush of a fight and they’d be needing, craving just the feeling of being pressed up against each ot—
Shit. But right now…it was embarrassing, all right? He didn’t like the planning part, it made it more concrete. Especially because Dean was even more worried about an eventual ‘talk.’ God, he sure as fuck was not going near ‘the talk,’ nor would he touch it with a twenty-foot pole.
After Dean got out of the shower, he took a deep breath and toweled off, knowing there wasn’t much to be done tonight.
They’d gotten here late, all the regular offices and people they needed to interview were closed for the evening, and the witnesses were tucked into bed. Tomorrow was the day to start work on the case. All they needed to do was crash, like the rest of the folks.
Knowing the first thing he’d be putting on tomorrow was his Fed suit (which he couldn’t sleep in like he sometimes opted to with his normal clothes) he bit the bullet and said why not. Actual comfortable clothes it was! They were in fucking Louisiana, he’d be sweating his ass off all day in his monkey suit, Dean damn well would take advantage of the AC, plus a t-shirt and shorts.
When he finally came out of the bathroom, Sam was still clicking away at his laptop and he glanced at the clock.
“Dude, it’s almost four am. Why aren’t you asleep?” Dean grumbled as he pulled out his gun and set it on the bedside table.
“Uh, free Wi-Fi?” he replied, like that answered everything. “I’m just glancing through the archives, double-checking a few things in the report before we head into town tomorrow.”
With an eye roll, Dean turned to the bed and stared like it had offended him before he finally took the plunge. Okay, it was really, really fucking comfortable, and his body just relaxed into the mattress. There weren’t any renegade springs that poked into his side, the pillows actually smelled clean and he could stretch out his entire frame. So he didn’t hate the bed as much as he previously did, fine!
He heard Sam yawn before the laptop closed and the room went dark, the computer screen being the previous light source illuminating the room. Now everything was black, save a sliver of red peeking in from the edge of the blinds from the tacky ‘Vacancy’ sign in the parking lot. Another indicator that Sam had pulled a fast one and they sure as hell weren't sold out!
Dean was almost positive that Sam had already changed (he’d been avoiding too much eye contact), and he heard his footsteps padding around the outside of the king mattress until he tucked himself into the other side.
He tried to stay relaxed as Sam’s weight shifted the bed and he settled in. Dean had to remember his brother was a little shit, and he’d win in the end if he got a reaction. So, nope, Dean had to hold his ground. Dammit, if things went down the way Sam predicted and they ended up all frenetic energy at the end of a hunt tomorrow or the next day? He was going to double-take it out on Sam, so help him! If Dean had it his way, the two of them wouldn't be able to walk after his dramatic show in the throes of—
Except, something completely different happened.
Something that never, ever happened before.
Sam’s hand had reached across the space dividing them and rested on Dean’s hip, his thumb stroking along the skin where his shirt was now riding up.
That, right there, had Dean freezing in place, completely. Hell, he was barely breathing.
Because this was uncharted territory.
They did not touch each other like this when they were going to bed and sober.
Sure, maybe they’d playfully smack one another, Dean would muss up Sam’s hair, or something—but this was intimate. It became even more intimate when the bed dipped again, Sam moving closer. Close enough that Dean could practically feel his body heat.
His mouth went dry the second Sam’s hand teasingly dove under Dean's shirt, caressing his flank and spreading over his stomach. When Sam's hand fanned over his chest and brushed Dean's nipples, he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning, because Sam continued to circle them with his fingertips until they were hard. Dammit, he knew one of Dean's weaknesses and he was exploiting it! Fuck, if it didn't feel good, too—
The problem was that Dean felt like he was spiraling, completely at a loss, because…what was he supposed to do?! He didn’t know how to act, whether he could snap at Sam to stop, demand what he was doing, or what!
Where was the line? Did they have one anymore? Dean thought this was over some kind of line, but apparently Sam didn’t.
And when Sam’s hand returned to his hip, he grabbed hold and pulled Dean backwards to rut his very obvious erection against Dean’s ass.
The hungry gasp from Sam’s chest did wonders to get the blood pumping to Dean's already-half hard cock and made him rethink everything in a flash. Shit. That begged the question: if it felt good, was it right? All the times before, Dean had found a reason because he’d been looking for one, could he justify this one soon enough? With justifications like ‘Sam started it,’ and ‘can’t blame me, I was seduced!’ Wasn’t that what was happening here?
Without relinquishing his hold, Sam continued to grind against Dean’s rear and he had to open his damn mouth. He asked “Is this okay?” while he cuffed the elastic band of Dean’s boxers.
Of all questions, that was the one fucking thing Dean was the least equipped to answer! So he did what he did best.
“It certainly is for you. Better to hump my ass than a pillow, huh?” Yes, humor was best, he could do that—
Until it he couldn’t.
Sam, his damn long limbs and strength flipped him around so he was on his back, and Dean was looking up at his brother who was staring down at him, boring holes into him. There was curiosity dancing in his lust-heavy eyes, probably wondering what the hell was going on in Dean’s head. But fuck if Dean knew what was going on in his own head!
The only thing Dean was wondering was what shade of red his face was, and if he could hide the fight-or-flight kind of expression that threatened to overwhelm him.
For some reason, Sam grinned. And it was downright mischievous.
“I think it’s better than you’ll admit,” Sam taunted, then he ground their hips together to prove that Dean was undeniably rock-hard. “Never thought you’d be shy about sex,” it was phrased in the form of a challenge.
One that did its job, because it got under Dean’s skin in record time.
He narrowed his eyes, even though he was trying his best to keep his hips from moving, arching upward into the freakin’ amazing friction, and called Sam out, “Who said I was shy? I’m just wondering what the hell is goin’ on in your brain. Did you plan this out ahead of time, because you wanted it so bad? Do you not have a lick of fuckin’ patience, you’re so desperate? You can’t even wait until a hunt’s over, you just have to—”
Dean had been baiting him, almost berating the choices Sam had made because he was flailing internally, but it looked like it wound Sam up. He schooled his features and silenced Dean the old fashioned way.
With his mouth.
It was rough, nothing like the soft, playful caresses that had freaked Dean out at the beginning. The ill-timed slow seduction that didn’t make sense, still left him hard. Nope, this was all tongue and teeth, like he’d brought up about ‘once a hunt’s over,’ this was the fierceness that normally accompanied their illicit affair.
Now, Dean knew what he was doing.
His arms flew up and grabbed Sam’s back, fisting the fabric of his shirt as the breath was sucked from his lungs. Now that it was familiar, he bucked his hips off the bed and against Sam’s, the rhythm turning brutal and fervent. Now, Dean didn’t feel bad about moaning over Sam’s aggressive hands and an even more fierce mouth.
In fact, he added fuel to the fire.
“Did I push you over the edge, Sammy?” he haughtily commented, watching as Sam sat back and ripped off his shirt.
“Nah,” he replied, next ripping Dean’s shirt from him body. “I just realized that you were right.” Even when he was met with a look of confusion, Sam didn’t stop his pace, he ripped Dean’s boxers off and recanted the words, “Maybe I don’t have patience. Maybe I am desperate. Maybe I should just own up to it, right?” After another near-violent kiss, Sam confessed, “God, I want you. So why shouldn’t I see what happens? I think this could be a good thing. For both of us.”
And that took a whole new turn that Dean hadn’t seen coming.
Fuck. ‘This’ had been brought up, it had finally been spoken of and it sounded like Sam wasn’t afraid of it anymore. Maybe he was never afraid, maybe it was always Dean. And Sam...it sounded like he wanted it to be real, which Dean didn’t know if it thrilled him or scared him—all he knew was that a shiver raked through his body when he saw Sam with the lube.
Hell yeah, his cock was throbbing with need, he was horny as hell and Sam looked fucking beautiful as always. He wanted it right now, fuck, did he want it…even though it had come out of nowhere. Which meant…something, right? Things had been moving in this direction, even though this was a huge, massive step and—
Two of Sam’s long fingers slid inside his body, Dean arched up and keened, reached out to grab a handful of Sam’s hair as he stretched him. He wanted to kiss the little fucker, dammit!
But once he was within reach, Sam pressed their foreheads together and asked, “You’re not mad?”
With a growl, Dean snapped back, “Don’t friggin ask me that when you’re getting me ready for your cock! Just…shut up!”
He laughed and kissed him soundly, but this time more tenderly. Which was weird. It was a direct contrast with the (now three) fingers pumping in and out of his ass, twisting and stretching him open, and fuck—Dean needed more. He wasn’t above begging or barking out orders—they tended to blend together because being pushy was being pushy. And whatever he could say to get the show on the road, he’d say the words.
When Sam withdrew and slicked up his cock, he hesitated. Then he asked with a certain amount of shyness (which Dean didn’t understand, because he’d been a cocky bastard up until now), “Can we…like this?”
Dean looked at Sam as though he’d grown two heads. Because...holy shit.
They never fucked like this.
It was always down and dirty. On all fours, bent over the nearest surface, or on occasion, there may be some ride ‘em cowboy happening, but never face-to-face. Tonight was all kinds of batshit-crazy unpredictability. Just when Dean thought he‘d gathered his bearings, the rug was ripped out from under him. Again!
Finally, Dean grew a pair and asked the question he’d been wondering the entire time. Something that encompassed this entire night. Sam could take it however he wanted but Dean needed to know: “Why?”
With a furrowed brow, Sam actually stuttered, “W-why what? Why the…position?”
“Why the bed? Why seduce me? Why tonight? And, yeah, why face to face?” Even though Dean’s questions were rapid-fire, he pronounced each of them slowly and with a different meaning so it didn’t sound like the interrogation it was. He didn’t wanna freak Sam out like he had been freaked out, because that just kind of sucked.
“Because I wanted to. Wanted to see what you would do, if you’d let me,” Sam’s eyes were dark with lust when he said, “I’ve wanted to before. So many times. See if there was something here instead of a quick fuck. Same reason I want to…” he let the words hang in the air with a brow raised, teasing the slick head of his dick around Dean’s hole to finish the thought for him.
All of those words, his friggin confession—it made his chest tight and Dean practically snarled, “What are you waiting for?”
With a wide grin, Sam pitched forward to kiss him hard at the same time he slid his thick cock in, past the tight rim of clenching muscles until their hips were flush. Dean felt every inch, every moment of the burn and this was brand-spanking new. Being filled with Sam while he was stone-cold sober, not teeming with the hot blood of a brawl or combat making him feel invincible, just…
… Feeling. Feeling every stolen moment of it.
It was night and day, especially the fact that their lips were moving against one another’s as Sam began to rock. It was intimate, it was...more. More of everything. Fuck, and Dean thought the intensity of a post-hunt tumble in the sheets was wild, this was impossibly heated. For all the right reasons.
Sam had pulled away to suck a mark against Dean’s throat when he groaned out, “Holy hell, you feel amazing—” After a sharp nip and a more punctuated thrust, he grabbed Dean’s jaw to capture his eyes, fearlessly asking, “Are you still mad about the bed?” and he picked up the pace.
He was writhing under Sam, arching his back and bucking up to meet his brutal thrusts—he could barely fucking breathe, yet he expected a reply?! Dean was covered his sweat, his nails raking down Sam’s back and a gasp was ripped from his lungs, giving way to a long, wanton moan when Sam’s cock nailed his sweet spot.
“Sammy, there—” he whimpered desperately, needing to feel it over and over because, Jesusfuck, he was almost there already—
But all of a sudden, Sam slammed his hips and pulled Dean in as close a he could. He ground their bodies together, plunging as deep inside him as he could reach, and teasing his brother until he may explode. Oh, that caught Dean’s attention all right.
“What the hell?!” he snapped, helplessly swiveling his hips on Sam’s dick, frantic and needy. “Why the hell aren’t you pounding my ass into next week?! You fucki—”
Sam hovered with a wicked grin, trailing his fingertips along the length of Dean’s own cock and swiping up the drooling precum. He licked his fingers clean, making Dean suck in a harsh breath at the display, and Sam repeated, “Are you still mad about the bed?”
With narrowed eyes, he barked out, “I’m pissed at you, not the bed!”
“Is that so?” Sam countered with a look of satisfaction on his face, slowly moving again, “Why?”
Dean ordered right back, “Harder, now, and I’ll tell you,” as he grabbed Sam’s ass to further spur him on. “Fuck, I’m ready to blow, c’mon, Sammy—”
It didn’t take much, Sam built the rhythm back up in record time, fucking back into Dean for all he was worth. And he was actually surprised when Dean exchanged groping his rear for the back of his neck, hauling him down into a kiss that was pure passion. It was so intense, Sam made a noise of surprise but surged into it with everything he had in him.
He could barely get out, “D-Dean, I’m—” but the sight of his brother already collapsing back on the bed, blowing his load and covering them both in cum was too beautiful for Sam to hold back any longer.
Sam was just about to pull out before it was too late, but Dean grabbed him and ordered, “Don’t you dare.” Between the gorgeous display, now Dean had changed the tables and was surprising the hell out of Sam (which was another rarity) by actually letting him cum inside him, and the build-up and obsession they shared…Sam was done.
His orgasm hit like a freight train, and Dean continued grinding, making it more intense as he rode it out. Sam was stunned when Dean pulled him back and tenderly kissed his forehead when he collapsed down, unable to hold up his own body weight.
Something midway through had changed Dean completely, it reached deep down and shook him at his core. The fog had lifted as he held Sam close, who was regrouping. He ran his hands through his ridiculous, long hair and sighed happily.
Once Sam managed to gather himself, he rolled off of Dean, letting him breathe easier, and moved to his side of the bed. Sam didn’t look like he was expecting much, because pillow talk did not happen. But...none of this happened. Not an instant of it, and Sam was probably wondering if it would be chalked up to a fluke. Surprisingly, it was Dean who offered forward the chat in the afterglow.
Dean even reached out, as Sam had reached out to start this whole damn thing, and set his hand on his brother’s hip, thumb caressing the defined muscles there. “What are you thinking?”
“Heh,” Sam shook his head, “Why you said you hate me and not the bed.” He pointed out, “You said there was a reason for that one. Can I have a hint at least?”
“At first, I hated both of you,” he readily admitted, but just glancing at Sam’s kiss-swollen lips did things to him, one of which was give him the motivation to continue. “But then I guess I realized it was just some dumb fear. Like…why be afraid of this, of us, only once in awhile but not all the time? I think maybe this was a good wake-up call.”
“Yeah?” For the first time tonight, Sam’s smile wasn’t impish or snarky, it was bright and downright joyous. “I, uh, didn’t know how you’d respond either. I mean, when I initially booked the room, I was just, you know…kind of banking on a later, too. But then I thought, why does it have to be later? Why couldn’t it be right now?”
Sam cleared his throat and continued this thoughts out loud. “I mean, when you got out of the shower and all you were wearing was your t-shirt and boxers I thought, wow, it would be so easy. And I wanted you so damn bad, Dean. The second I saw you walking out, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to ignore it. Ignore you next to me. It’s been awhile, since…” he paused in thought.
“Since Montana,” Dean filled in with a smirk. “I remember, too. You’re not the only one, trust me.”
“Yeah, wow. It’s been weeks,” he noted with a huff. “Being so close to you. I could’ve kept my hands to myself I guess, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t get why I had to, you know? It’s not like it’s only been once or twice, it’s all the time. And maybe…I hoped that even outside our circumstances, you...needed me. Like I needed you.”
With a furrowed brow, Dean was confused when he said, “You sound scared, dude. But you sure as hell weren’t when you put the moves on me.”
“I know, right?” he chuckled and shook his head, moving a little closer. “I guess that goes to show how bad I wanted you. And now I don’t have to be afraid.” Sam’s voice stopped abruptly. Then he looked Dean in the eyes and asked, “Unless I do. Are we okay? Was that…okay?”
He laughed out loud, Dean actually couldn’t stop laughing for a second, and closed the distance to show Sam how he felt using his mouth. Which Sam eagerly responded to.
They made out for a while longer, rolling around in the bed, kissing each other softly and more tenderly than Sam’s impromptu seduction. Now that both Winchesters were confident, it changed the game. It made everything better. It erased doubt and added a new element and ’nightcap’ to those long nights after investigations, research and busy work.
They never bothered with two beds again.