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The front seat of the Impala wasn't built for sex. Especially when the bench seat was pushed back as far as it'd go.
The leather creaked and the suspension protested. To any bystander, the rocking and fogged windows did little to hide what was going on inside.
It was a good thing they pulled off onto the side of the road, off a nearly empty interstate in the middle of nowhere. The Impala was parked haphazardly, tire marks in the gravel, front-end buried in shrubbery. Like whoever was driving was desperate to pullover and paid no mind to how they parked. From the road, the rocking backend was the only thing visible amidst the dead and dry bushes.
An occasional pair of headlights lit up the cabin, droplets of perspiration shining on every window. For a brief moment, the light cascades over Sam's frame: his rippling muscles, sweat dripping down the curve of his spine. His head is tipped forward with his hands braced against the door, body slanted as he bounces himself upon the sheer girth of Dean's cock.
And for that briefest moment, Dean tries to ingrain that image into his memory. Attempts to burn it behind his eyelids.
The sight before him is born from sin, from years of repressed longing and guilt that could no longer be contained.
Currently, Dean is partially propped up against the passenger side door. His brown hair is askew from a vigorous makeout session, his green eyes ablaze. He's shirtless, shirt forlorn somewhere in the footwell. His chest and abdomen are slick with sweat, beading and running down in rivulets across the dips of his heaving muscles.
His jeans are still on, denim bunched up and pinching him in all the wrong places. They're shoved past the sharp jut of his hips, just enough to pull his burgeoning cock out from the confines of his briefs.
There, he's pulling Sam onto his lap over and over. He, who is currently prone for all to see, clad in nothing but cloying sweat. He, who is currently fucked out of his mind, bracing himself to meet his brother's thrusts halfway.
Dean's hips are rolling, lifted off the leather of the bench seat to thrust powerfully into him. He fucks him like it's the last chance he'll ever get, like their admissions of guilt will suddenly blindside their pleasure.
So, he pounds without mercy.
And Sam absolutely revels in it.
Dean's heavy and calloused hands are molded to his hips, his grip like iron. One hand drags up the expanse of his torso, fingers splayed across his tailbone, pushing him down on his dick. As if in tandem, Sam's bouncing slows into something torturous. Something that teases, allowing Dean to bask in the acute feeling of his walls dragging across the skin of his cock. His other hand moves to pull him apart, giving him the telltale view of how they're joined in the moonlight.
The rim of Sam's hole is stretched around the base of Dean's cock, stretched to its limit. There, spit and arousal has frothed up, aiding to the profound schlick schlick filling the space between them. The sight makes him ravenous, making his balls tight and a groan tumble past his bitten lips.
His eyes dart upwards towards Sam's face, who is peering at him from over his shoulder. His eyebrows are pinched tight, mouth dropped into an O as he carefully lifts himself before dropping his hips back down to where they're flush against Dean's navel. His eyes flutter closed, no doubt honed in on the pleasure of their lovemaking. He looks enraptured with the feeling, overcome by lust. Strands of his hair are sticking to the nape of his neck and his forehead.
Dean's at a loss for words at the sheer beauty of his brother, breath caught in his throat.
“Wanna breed you,” Dean blurts suddenly before he can steel himself. His voice is rough with misuse, throat slick with saliva. The words sit heavy between them, a filthy exclamation that comes from the depths of his fantasies.
Sam's hips suddenly stutter, his world knocked off kilter by what he just said. It makes his walls flutter, his painfully hard cock twitch and bob. It lights a fire in his stomach, forcing the coils to coil even tighter.
“Yeah?” he said, playing coy like that didn't go straight to his cock.
“Gonna breed this fuckin’ cunt of yours,” Dean growls huskily. As if emphasizing his words, he drags the pad of his thumb along the stretched rim of his brother, who stills his hips and lets out an unbidden groan from the depths of his chest.
He knows his brother can't reproduce. Doesn't have the right equipment. His fantasies have definitely grown over the past few months, and the thoughts of his brother, helplessly fat and pregnant, have aided him with too many jerk off sessions in the shower.
He's fucking insatiable. It starts with delicate touches of Sam's waist and stomach, thumb stroking the muscle there. He's not pudgy in any way– he lost his baby fat during puberty, and that was decades ago. Now, his lithe body is lined with hardened muscle. But his thoughts wander… would his body soften if he was carrying a child? God, he wishes he could see it, properly put an image to memory.
His fantasies devolve when they're in bed together, making sweet passionate love that forces the headboard to bang loudly against the wall. He puts Sam in positions that he knows will increase a chance of conception: doggy style, mating press. And he cums deep, filthily imagining that he's fucking his heavy seed into his brother's fertile womb. He knows it'd take, he–
“De-- where'd you go?” Sam hums casually, save for his wavering breaths.
“Fuck–” one hand flies down to grip the base of his cock, the other pushing at Sam's hips. His eyebrows furrow as he steels himself on not cumming prematurely, he knows he'd never hear the end of it.
“Off. I need a minute.”
Sam obliges, pulling off. With a clamber of too long limbs, he moves to turn himself in the confined front seat so he's facing Dean. In the process, he accidentally knocks himself against the steering wheel, causing the horn to go off. He grumbles a silent goddammit before finally settling back on Dean's thighs.
Now, Dean can see all of him. He's hunched over so he doesn't bump against the ceiling of the cabin, hands planted on either side of Dean's torso from where part of his body rests on the bench seat. His cock is flagging slightly, no doubt there's precome beading at the tip.
“Hey,” he says, a small smile gracing his lips. He bends down to mold their lips together in a chaste kiss, sitting there a beat too long before pulling his face away. “Are you okay?”
Dean sucks in a breath, meeting Sam's intense gaze. He was always dogged when he thought something was wrong, but aren't all Winchesters dogged?
“Yeah, I was just thinking about you,” he unfortunately leaves out the part where he was fantasizing about him pregnant with his child.
Sam nods once, pursing his lips. He spares a glance back down at Dean's cock. Even with his large hand at the base, that still doesn't stop his manhood from looking absolutely ravaging in size. Veins bulge, the tip a shade too dark. His balls are heavy.
Sam shifts, moving one hand to brace against his navel. He shuffles forward on his knees, skin slick against the leather as he swats Dean's hand away to take him in his own hand. He pumps him once, twice, the rough skin of his palm grating. He kisses the head of his cock against his slick hole, teeth working over his bottom lip as he focuses on working his older brother back into his body.
Dean groans, guttural from the depths of his chest as he sinks back down on his cock. It had started to cool from the drying slick, but now he missed the molten heat of being inside of him. It takes a moment before Sam is at the base, his walls being properly split back open.
He forgoes his own painfully hard cock as he swivels his hips, moaning a high thing as he starts to move again.
He bends down so he can crowd Dean against the door, bracketing him in with his thickly corded arms. Dean's hands immediately fly to him for purchase, anywhere he can reach. When he gets ahold of him, he squeezes.
Sam's breath ghosts over his face, lips brought close to his. He kisses him there, soft and passionate. Careful.
“Do you want to get me pregnant, Dean?”
The question knocks him on his ass, causing his breath to catch audibly and eyes to widen. His dick jerks painfully, leaking a stream of precome.
“Yes– oh my god, yes Sammy,” Dean says, surging forward to meet his bitten lips once more in a rough kiss. He pulls Sam close as he starts to thrust, resuming his powerful pace of absolutely jackhammering into his younger brother.
“Gonna fuckin’ fill you with my cum. Is that what you want, baby? To be heavy with my child?” he snarls, hands grasping his hips to keep him from jostling too much with each heavy thrust. “You'd look so fuckin’ perfect, Sammy, knockin’ you up every night till you're screamin’ my fuckin’ name to the heavens.”
Sam arches his back, a deep curve as he throws himself back to meet Dean's thrusts. Pornographic moans spill from his mouth, stricken with the overwhelming feeling of pleasure as the fat head of Dean's cock hammers against the sweet spot inside of him.
“There, right there Dean!” he cries out, voice harsh as he's jostled. His walls flutter around his shaft, clenching tight and borderline milking him for all he's worth. With how hard he's clenching, maybe his body is trying to conceive.
Dean kisses and laves his tongue wherever he can reach– his throat, the bottom of his jaw, his clavicle. Each inch of skin has burning kisses pressed into it, leaving his brother's declaration of love in their wake.
Suddenly, Sam's world tilts as Dean moves beneath them. With a strong arm wrapped around his middle, he flips them both with the unmatched strength of a hunter. Sam's back hits the bench seat with a loud oof, blinking as Dean slots himself between his thick legs.
In one smooth thrust, Dean is back inside of him, nailing home as his heavy balls slap against his ass.
Sam can't fucking think. It's all too much, too much for him to handle. Being pushed up the seat with each powerful thrust, simultaneously being pulled back by his brother's commanding hands. He cries out Dean's name over and over, bracing one hand back against the fogged window as the other flies down to seize his long cock.
“No–” Dean snarls into the dark, swatting Sam's hand away. His hips don't break their rhythm. “You're gonna cum just like this, Sammy, with your pussy. Can you do that for me?”
Sam is at a loss for words, jaw dropped. He's overwhelmed, pulled under by just how hot this all is. He's shifted again as Dean seizes his quaking hips, pulling him upwards onto his thighs so his ass is lifted off the damp leather. His knees are pushed to his ears, held there by the wide berth of Dean's shoulders. He's too big for this position, and his feet graze against the liner of the ceiling. But his brother doesn't care– just keeps fucking him, tearing him and cleaving him in two with his massive cock.
“Tell me that you can cum with only your pussy, Sammy.” Dean demands, one hand gripping his long brunette locks so he can yank his head to look up at him.
Heat is pooling in his stomach and on his stomach as his bobbing cock is now leaking precome in a steady flow. His eyes roll, feeling his groin coil with the telltale sign of an orgasm.
“Yes! I can cum with my pussy, just for you Dean– ahh!” Sam cries, nearly shouts. This dangerous man with the world on his shoulders is whittled down to nothing, a desperate and keening mess by his brother.
“Atta boy,” Dean praises, and that's all it takes. The Impala rocks hard as he fucking pounds into his brother, truly putting the suspension to work. The sound of their grunts and groans fill the cabin, in tandem with the sharp slapping of Sam's ass connecting with Dean's front.
“That's it, Sammy. Feel how fuckin’ deep I am inside of you. Imagine how it'll feel when I breed you, so fuckin’ swollen and full.” He grits out, position shifting again as Dean folds him even further in half with only Sam's shoulders pressed into the seat.
His breath is caught as he struggles to breathe, all of his weight being held by his brother. A proper mating press, with Dean's thick and bulging arms bracketing him in. His head hangs, teeth bared as he piledrives into his sopping wet cunt, fat cock sinking impossibly deeper by the position.
His brother, his entire world– right here and right now, fucking him to the point of breaking. He's going to fucking lose it at the hands of Dean Winchester, a god amongst men.
“Dean– ah– I'm cumming!” Sam shouts, body seizing as his balls draw up tight. He meets that precipice, the point of no return as Dean's thrusts push him closer and closer, dangling over the edge.
He lets go.
Sam curls in on himself with a warbling cry, stomach tight as his body quakes. An onslaught of pleasure holds him under, blankets him just like his brother's body. His cunt clenches with each spurt of cum, rhythmically squeezing hard around Dean, hard enough that it makes it hard for him to thrust through the seizing muscles.
Sam's orgasm hits him hard, harder than the ropes of cum that paint his chest, collarbone, and the side of his face. He comes long and hard, cock jumping.
Dean doesn't stop. He can't stop. He's close too. He falls forward, one hand slamming against the door of the Impala to brace himself and another finding the crux of Sam's knee. He piledrives into his tight muscles, panting heavily as his heavy balls draw up tight.
“Just like that baby, so fuckin’ good for me. Gonna fuckin’ get you pregnant– gonna breed you like a fuckin’ bitch ‘n heat!” Dean snarls, chest heaving as he feels his own orgasm rear its ugly head.
Sam's eyes are on him, hands cradling each side of his face. He says something, but it's deafened by the blood rushing in Dean's ears.
He's cumming.
“Oh fuck!” Dean shouts, body stilling as he drives himself to the deepest point of Sam's body. He shallowly thrusts once, twice, before he's blowing his load.
A roar escapes him, brought forth from the barrel of his chest. His eyes are squeezed shut as he jerks, cumming long and hard inside of Sam. And it's a lot– Sam's hand flies down to his stomach, moaning as he basks in the feeling of each spurt collecting inside of him.
It takes a moment for them both to come down from their highs, panting heavily and cocks flagging. Limbs are intertwined, dewy with sweat. The Impala positively reeks of sex– they're gonna have to drive with the windows down.
“I love you,” Sam breathes, pulling Dean in for a passionate kiss. Dean, who is currently dumbfounded by the strength of his orgasm, shaking from the aftershocks. He molds his lips into his, turning his head to deepen the kiss. His cock gives a weak jerk as he pulls out, a string of cum following the tip.
They don't say anything as they pull apart, Dean carefully lowering Sam and peppering kisses along his throat. Suddenly, his lips meet warm liquid, and he jerks back.
“Dude… did you seriously finish all over your face?”
"Thanks for stating the obvious, Jerk," Sam grumbles, but there is no anger in his voice. Only fondness, carved out just his brother.
--
They clean up in silence, propping the Impala's doors open to air out the cabin and hopefully rid the windows of the fog. Forgotten clothes are shucked from the footwells, crumpled and thrown on. Boots are tied tight, leather belts looped through their jeans. Of course, Dean is stubbornly wiping down the black leather of the front seat, as if he's offended by the stray droplets of cum and drying sweat. Sam does everything to hide his chuckle.
Time passes, and soon enough they're back on the road again, tires spraying gravel and dirt. Dust kicks up as Dean throws the Impala in reverse, one arm thrown back over the bench seat with one palming the steering wheel. Just like that, they're pulling off the side of the road and onto the interstate.