rivers_bend

merihn has been writing many smexy Sam/Dean wincest fics for MMOM. I may have sort of mentioned that I'd like to see what happened after yesterday's fic, and she said she didn't have time to write it, and maybe I could, and somehow I did. Her fic is here and I expect mine will make more sense if you've read hers first. Plus, she writes hot Wincest, so go read her stuff.

This bunny was strangely insistent that I write in 200 word sections, so it's exactly 1600 words. Adult rated for sex and incest, if the brother thing squicks you, please don't read, I don't own Supernatural... you know the drill.

Thank you very much to merihn for letting me write a sequel to her fic and for being so very enthusiastic about the whole thing. She beta'd the first part, but any remaining mistakes are mine. Thank you also to tigertrapped for her generous and lovely comments. I loooove comments. *g*


Home is where you lay your head


Sam stood under the shower, hoping to wash the feeling of Dean's touch off his skin. He'd been prepared to loop an arm round Dean's neck, even stick his hand in Dean's back pocket and grope his ass if he needed to, but Dean's tongue in his mouth, his hand on his cock… Dean was his brother. His fucking brother, and boy was that the wrong thing to think, because Dean wrapping his fist around Sam's cock to keep their cover was one thing, but he was not going to go there.

Adding soap to the washcloth was supposed to make him feel cleaner, but as he scrubbed at his stomach, Sam wondered what it would feel like to have Dean's tongue there, the way it had been on his neck. His hand slowed and he trailed the soapy cloth over his skin, thinking of Jess, remembering the brush of her hair as she'd kissed him, not thinking of Dean, not feeling the scratch of his stubble, the hot puffs of his breath, oh fuck! Just stop thinking about him, and now he was hard and imagining Dean down there on the tiles sucking his cock. This was not good.

--

Dean was still settling the bike on its kickstand when Sam had called first shower and run for the door of their room. He was out of his jacket, jeans and boots, scuttling to the bathroom in his boxers and t-shirt, looking nervous as hell, before Dean had set the chain. Dean stripped off his own clothes, settled on his bed with a plastic cup and a bottle of tequila, and only after his second refill did he wonder what Sammy was doing in there.

He'd done so well tonight, following Dean's lead, relaxing into the kiss. Hell, more than relaxing, moaning, sliding his tongue against Dean's, fitting their hips together like Dean was the missing link to Sam's puzzle. Dean'd been hard before he got his cock out. Sure, Sammy was his brother, but he looked good and felt better, and he'd been half-hard when the bikers said they wanted to watch.

Which wasn't an excuse to have his brother on his mind now, as he slipped a hand under the waistband of his boxers, palm hot on his shaft. They'd been playing a role. Getting the job done. Soapy, wet Sam had no business in his head.

--

Sam made sure the towel was knotted tightly around his waist before he left the bathroom. This whole thing was such a bad idea. He'd never cared before if his towel was loose or not. He was hoping Dean had gotten hungry, gone out for something to eat, or to find himself a girl, but there he was on the bed, with a bottle of tequila between his legs, pressed up against - no, he wasn't going to look. Whatever Dean was doing, that was his business. He didn't have to know what Sam had been thinking in the shower. That he'd come so hard he had to lean against the wall, thinking about fucking his brother's mouth. His mouth that was full and curved in a half smile now as Dean looked at… as he looked at Sam's towel.

Keeping his hands at his sides with an effort, Sam walked quickly over to his bed. He wanted to press on his cock, which was trying to show interest in Dean's mouth as though he hadn't already come twice. His back to Dean, he rummaged in his bag for clean clothes.

'We really need to do some laundry,' he said.

--

Dean'd managed to get the bottle between Sam and his hard-on just in time, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from following the line of Sam's abs as they disappeared into his towel, and now he couldn’t keep them off Sam's ass. Through force of will, he was keeping his hand still, but his glutes were tightening rhythmically, rocking his cock against the cool glass, and it was all he could do to keep his breathing quiet.

This wasn't exactly the Ritz, and Sam's towel had seen better days. It was so washworn that Dean could see every dip and curve of his brother's ass. Why hadn't he touched it while he had the chance? He could feel Sam's fingers gripping him, making his hips jump against the bottle. Fuck, if he wasn't careful he was going to come right here, and no way Sammy could miss that.

Sam said something about laundry, but Dean couldn't answer, too focused on trying to look somewhere else. He'd seen Sam in a towel and less, plenty of times, but now he knew what it felt like to have Sam kissing him, coming in his fist, everything was different. He was so fucked.

--

Sam hoped Dean would go piss or brush his teeth because he could feel his brother's eyes on his ass. He was probably laughing at Sam right now for running and hiding in the shower as soon as they got home.

'I'm going to sleep soon. You gonna have a shower or something?'

'Trying to get rid of me, Sammy?'

Shit. Had Dean seen his semi through the towel? It'd gone down thinking about doing the laundry, so he was safe to pull on his boxers, hopefully. 'Nah, just, you know. Long day.'

He turned back to the bed and heard Dean get up. 'Yeah, I'll turn in too.'

Sam was dressed and under the covers when Dean came back and turned off the light. Something had to be wrong with these beds, because no matter what he did, Sam couldn't get comfortable. Sounded like Dean was having the same trouble. Finally Sam gave up.

'Dean,' he said. 'How do you think it went tonight?'

'Good. They bought our story, didn't they? Tomorrow we'll get more information. And don't worry. I don't think they'll make us prove ourselves again.'

'Oh,' Sam said, shocked that he was more disappointed than relieved.

--

Dean was so hard when he got up, he could hardly walk. Three strokes and the thought of Sam dropping that towel and he came, missing the sink and spattering the floor. He cleaned up, brushed his teeth, was back in the room before Sam could start thinking that he was taking too long.

Sam was restless, reminding Dean of when they used to share a bed. He'd had to spend half the night avoiding Sammy's long limbs, or wrap himself around him and hold him down. He'd told himself over and over how glad he was to have a bed to himself when Sam had gone off to Stanford, but he'd missed having someone to put his arms around. Turning over, Dean looked at the back of Sam's head. Not just someone. He'd missed Sammy.

Now Sam was fussing, asking how Dean thought the night had gone. He said what he thought Sam wanted to hear, but Sam wouldn’t leave it. 'And you and me, we're ok?'

He wouldn't listen to Dean's reassurances, asking again until Dean finally said, 'Look, am I going to have to come over there and shut you up?'

'I'd like to see you try.'

--

God, why'd he said that? Because sure as anything, Dean would, and if Dean touched him he'd be hard again, and Dean would know, and fuck, he was coming over.

'You think I can't?' Dean's hand was on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back. It was ok. Dean didn't have a magic touch. Sam was just fine. Until he looked up and caught Dean licking his lips. That stripped all the moisture from his mouth and sent his blood where he really hoped it wouldn’t go.

'I -' was all Sam could manage. Dean licked his lips again, and Sam reached up, pulled Dean down onto his chest, crushing Dean's lips with his own. He sucked that tempting tongue into his mouth before Dean could react, moaned when instead of pulling away, Dean shifted so he was lying on top of Sam completely. There was no hiding now that Dean made him hard. But the sheet wasn't hiding Dean's erection either, so Sam gave up caring, gave in to the friction and the heat of Dean's kiss.

Sam was sixteen again, sharing a bed with Dean, wanting what he'd wanted then. A desire he thought he'd grown out of.

--

Dean hadn't meant to start anything, was just going to tickle Sam into submission, but when he'd turned over and looked at Dean with those darkened eyes, Sam was irresistible. All Dean could think about was how Sam had felt opening up for his kiss, with all those men watching… Dean could hardly breathe. He licked his lips, caught Sammy watching him, and couldn't help doing it again. The next thing he knew, Sam was tipping him onto the bed, kissing him for all he was worth.

Somehow he got up onto the bed without breaking their kiss or falling over. It felt like Sam was burning him through the sheet. The fucking sheet, he wanted it gone. Wanted Sam's skin. He tugged at it to no avail, finally rolling off his brother. At the look of fear in Sam's eyes, Dean said, 'Shh, just want you naked.'

Sam had the sheet off and was pulling his t-shirt over his head before Dean could draw another breath. In seconds the bedding was pushed aside and their clothes were on the floor. Dean moaned into Sam's neck, speechless at the feel of all that skin against him. Sam felt like heaven.