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A Lesson Earned

November 12th, 2008 (10:33 pm)

 
I'm reposting Lessons pt. 1 so it's on my lj instead of just the wincest community.

Title: A Lesson Earned, or, Lessons Pt. One
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: power play, d/s(ish), first time, pwp, dirty talk
Word Count: 7466
Spoilers: Not really, but Mystery Spot kinda.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I make no money and have no rights to the characters etc.



“God, Sammy,” Dean sighed as he sank into the ratty chair the motel room offered, running a hand through his short, spiky hair. “What a day, huh?”

It was a pretty lame thing to say, Dean knew that, but conversation had been tense between the two of them all day.

Across the room, on one of the two narrow beds, Sam was typing away at his computer.

“Yeah,” was all he said.

Dean frowned.

There was something different about his brother. Something harder, colder, more focused. Ever since Sam’d been stuck in that time loop it was like he had his eye on the prize, and never wavered once. Unfortunately, Dean didn’t exactly know what prize his little brother was after.

At first Dean had thought it was a good thing. Sam wasn’t crying like a girl every time they had to off a human now. He didn’t spend as much time checking every little fact, either. Once they had a lead they went and took care of it.

But as time went on, Dean became worried for his brother. Dean was supposed to be the brooding, mysterious one. Not Sam. Although, and Dean would never admit this, with his longer body and broader shoulders Sam was better at pulling off the look.

“Chatty tonight, arencha?” Dean grumbled.

Sam looked up, tossing his longish brown hair out of his face. It was only a few shades different from Dean’s. “What should we talk about, Dean?”

There was a look on Sam’s face, an intense look Dean had seen him use to zero in on their targets. But this time it was resting squarely on him. A tingle of unease, yeah, unease, flickered in his belly.

“I dunno,” Dean began, “I just thought—”

But Sammy wasn’t interested in what Dean thought.

“Should we talk about last night?” Very deliberately, Sam closed his computer. The tingle in Dean’s belly intensified.

Sam swung his long legs of the bed and rose, walking slowly toward his brother. “Should we talk about the way you got smashed at that bar trying to pick up that skank waitress?”

Dean hadn’t even known Sam knew the word skank, never mind would actually use it.

“Should we talk about how I had to practically carry your drunk ass home?”

His brother had reached the chair now, and Dean had leaned away from him reflexively. It didn’t help. With the way Sam was looming—fucking looming—over him it was impossible to pretend he wasn’t there. He knew Sam was freakishly tall, but the point had never been driven home so fully before.

Angling his head down, Sam captured Dean’s bright green eyes with his own more bluish pair. His voice was soft. Not breathy, just quiet.

“Should we talk about how you begged me to suck you off?”

Unease sparked into full-fledged alarm in Dean’s gut.

“C’mon, Sam, I was drunk,” Dean protested, trying for casual but still unable to look away from his brother’s blue-green eyes. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.” Sam’s voice was flat and indisputable. He leaned forward bracing his hands on the chair arms. “You never meant anything as much as you meant that.”

Suddenly, Sam’s voice was different. It was kinda slurred, a little whiny, and definitely full of slutty need. “‘God, Sammy, that bitch got me so hot. I’m so horny couldn’t you just—I mean, just this once, couldn’t you help your brother out? Please, Sammy, I need it, man.’”

Dean was vaguely aware that he hadn’t breathed in awhile. He couldn’t with Sam so close. His whole world was a field of bluish green.

Sam straightened, and Dean sucked in a shuddering breath. “That’s what you sounded like last night, Dean. Like a drunk, whiny whore. And you wanted me to give you a blow job.”

Dimly, Dean realized that although Sam had released his eyes he still couldn’t look away from his brother’s face.

“You would have asked anyone, as drunk as you were, but you asked me. “

Shock went through Dean in one long drag as Sam looked down, locking their gazes again. There was heat in Sammy’s eyes, lust smoldering inside, turning them a darker blue than Dean had ever seen.

“I almost did it, Dean—I wanted to. I would have enjoyed watching you come undone, but do you know why I didn’t? Answer me.”

The last two words were like a spike straight to Dean’s cock. The voice was hard, demanding, and absolutely sure it would be obeyed.

“N-no,” Dean choked out. He felt red tinge his cheeks. Did he just stutter? Dean Winchester did not stutter.

“Because you would have thought less of me for doing it.” Sam shrugged. “It’s not your fault, really. You are a product of how you were raised. You see a blow job as a submissive act. Anyone doing it is, therefore, beneath you.”

Dean was about to protest, but Sam saw right through him. “Don’t deny it, Dean, we both know it’s true. You are the perfect example of the modern straight-man paradox. You want the woman you’re with to be a wizard in bed, but you’ll think she’s a whore if she is.”

There was…there was disappointment in Sam’s voice, and so help him, Dean felt guilt coloring his cheeks now. Sam was using a few big words, and usually Dean hated it when he went all Stanford on him, but now all he could think of was that he had disappointed his brother.

Apparently Sam could see how Dean was feeling because his voice was kinder when he spoke again. “Dean, it’s all right. I don’t blame you, it’s just how you were taught. I was taught that way, too, but I had Jess to help me learn better. And you, Dean?”

Sam’s voiced was low. “You have me.”

His hands came from where they’d been perfectly relaxed at his side to play with his belt. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Thinking about how good it would feel to lick up and down your cock. And you haven’t been helping matters any. The way you pretended you couldn’t remember what happened. The way you came on to as many chicks as possible so you could delude yourself. Well that’s not gonna happen anymore.”

Pulling open his belt, Sam reached down to yank on his zipper. Sam’s cock sprang from his jeans, and Dean’s mouth fell open at the site of it.

“Look what you’ve been doing to me, Dean. Look how huge and heavy you’ve made me.”

That, at least, Dean couldn’t deny. His brother—his little brother, his baby brother—was huge. Dean had never seen a cock that big before, and he wasn’t exactly small himself.

A chuckle from Sam drew Dean’s attention back to his face. “Look at you, Dean. You’re already in the right position.”

His mouth was still open, Dean realized, and he snapped it shut.

“It’s all right. The first step in teaching you when a blow job’s not submissive is to teach you when one is.” Sam’s voice was gentle and comforting, and, despite himself, Dean felt himself responding to it.

Damn it, Dean Winchester did not need comforting.

“Open your mouth, Dean.”

The feeling in his gut that Dean had been pretending was unease and alarm, turned from shocky and sparking to fire. Waves of heat teased his groin, and Dean knew that, straining against his jeans, he was sporting the hardest erection of his life.

Sam’s voice was still soft and gentle, but it was firmer now. Implacable. It was the kind of voice that said it knew you were going to do whatever it asked you, so you might as well do it now. It was the voice of command.

And so, though he didn’t really know why, Dean found himself opening his mouth.

Grinning in triumph, Sam pushed the crown of his cock into the hot wetness of Dean’s mouth.

Dean had talked a lot of girls into giving their first blow jobs, and most of them had started gagging right away. But apparently Sam was better at breaking people in then he was because the head was inside his mouth and nothing else. Sam just rested there, the tip of his cock resting on Dean’s tongue.

“Close your lips around it.” Sam ordered said. “Watch your teeth.”

Remembering to make sure his teeth were behind the bulge of his lip, Dean closed his mouth as much as he could. Sam was so big it wasn’t much, and this was just the head. The smooth texture of the cock was an interesting sensation, Dean was thinking, and it tasted clean and nice. Like Sam. Dean would have thought, after the day they’d had, it would taste sweaty or something, but it didn’t.

“Now use your tongue,” was the next instruction. “Roll it in circles around the head. Every now and then stop to lick the slit.”

A fine tremble was beginning to show in Dean’s body. Sam noticed, but it wasn’t to the point he needed to worry about it.

Slowly at first, Dean started to run his tongue around Sam’s cock. The underside of his tongue passed over the top of the cock, and that felt a little weird with the veins and stuff. When the topside of his tongue was underneath the crown, Dean felt Sam’s ridges. He teased with the little vein of skin beneath the slit before he continued on. In the back of his mind he thought that Sam probably knew what that thing was called.

He did this a few more times before he worked up the nerve to follow the second part of his instruction. As he reached the bottom of his third pass, Dean hesitated. He sucked in a breath through his nose and then his tongue flickered along the slit of Sam’s cock.

Sam’s breath hissed out between clenched teeth. He was trying to remain cool and calm for Dean, he knew that if he lost it his brother would panic, but his cock was in Dean’s mouth. Needless to say, keeping calm was not an easy task.

Dean licked the slit of Sam’s cock again. The taste was different there, muskier (if a taste could be musky, Dean didn’t know), and kind of salty-sweet. His tongue was able to slide along the slit more easily, too. And then it him like a lightning bolt.

He was licking up his brother’s precum.

The tremble of Dean’s body was edging toward a full-on shake, but Sam headed it off before it got that far.

“Dean, look at me.” His voice was firm, but not harsh.

Sam hid a smile when Dean didn’t pull off his cock, just tilted his eyes upward. Of course, Dean looking up at him with Sam’s cock in his mouth just about made him come.

“You’re doing so good, Dean,” Sam reassured him. “You feel so good around my cock. Just a little more, can you do a little more for me?”

For a second Dean didn’t think he could. He was sucking off his brother, he was tasting his brother’s precum. This was incest, it was wrong! But the look in Sam’s eyes calmed him. It was still his Sammy up there, despite how different he’d been acting, and he’d do whatever Sam needed him to do. Just like he’d always done.

Sucking in another shaky breath through his nose, Dean nodded. It was weird to nod around a cock.

Sam smiled, and Dean felt his heart flutter. What the hell was wrong with him?

“All right then,” Sam said. “I’m gonna start pushing in a little, okay? Keep working your tongue for me, it feels so good.”

As Sam’s cock started forward, deeper into his mouth, Dean felt his throat tighten. He felt himself start to gag out of reflex, but Sam backed off before he went through with the impulse. Sam did it again, in just a little bit and then out before Dean could freak.

“Come on, Dean, just relax.” Sam ghosted his hand over his brother’s hair. “I’m not even touching the back of your throat. You’re fine. I’ve got you. Just relax.”

Eventually Dean got used to the rhythm. Sam never let up, but he didn’t increase the pace either. After a few beats Dean trusted that Sam wouldn’t go deeper, and his throat relaxed.

“See? No need to gag was there?” Sam’s voice was teasing.

Easy for him to say, Dean thought. Bitch.

Dean was brought up short when Sam’s fingers tightened in his hair.

“You’re gonna get good at this, I can tell. In no time at all I’ll be able to hold your head and fuck your throat like a pussy.” Sam’s voice wasn’t the heated, sensual tone Dean would expect words like that to be.

Instead, he sounded almost disinterested. Like he was discussing the weather or something.

“I’m really good at throat sex,” Sam was saying, “you’re gonna love it. You’re gonna learn to come just from the feeling of my cock pushing past your gullet. No cock stimulation required.”

No way. Dean couldn’t imagine that ever happening, but Sam was so calm. So sure of himself.

Sam wasn’t going any deeper than he had been before, but his tight hold gave this whole thing a different flavor.

“Bring up your hands,” he said. “Work all the cock you can’t take, just like a hand job.”

Dean raised his right hand.

“Both of them.” Sam’s voice brooked no argument.

Both of Dean’s hand worked on Sam’s shaft as he thrust into Dean’s mouth. This was something he could do, no problem. Dean jerked off a lot, he knew how to handle a cock.

He squeezed and kneaded and pulled. He alternated between fast and slow, two hands or one. He used every trick he knew. He moved his lower jaw in circles, surprised at how sore it was after just that short time. This situation was so wildly out of control that maybe if he could just push Sam over the edge they could both pretend this never happened.

Just then Sam yanked himself out of Dean’s mouth. Startled, Dean looked up even has he bent forward trying to follow Sam’s cock.

His brother’s eyes were dark, so dark that for a second Dean thought he’d been possessed. Sam reached down and yanked on his hair.

“Ow!” Dean protested, but he followed the direction of the pull to his feet.

“Get to the bathroom.”

“What?”

“Now!”

The voice was so much like Dad’s that Dean almost jumped, and he was heading toward the bathroom before he knew what was happening. But it was too late to slow or change direction. Sam was right behind him, the heat of his body propelling Dean forward. He was close enough that every so often he would feel the brush of Sammy’s cock.

They’d barely crossed into the bathroom when Sam was all over him. He was just suddenly there, up against Dean’s back, growling and yanking his shirt up over his head.

“Sam, wait, Sam—”

But his brother has having none of it. His Led Zeppelin t-shirt was the ground before Dean knew what happened.

One of Sam’s arms was around Dean’s waist on the other was running up and down his chest. With the arm on his waist Sam was walking him—more like dragging him—toward the toilet.

The layout was pretty much typical of motel bathrooms. There was a bathtub directly opposite the door. A towel rack on the right wall as you walk in, and the mirror and toilet on the left.

Sam maneuvered Dean so that he was leaning over the toilet, bracing himself against the wall push-up style. When Sam lifted off his back Dean tried to move away, but his brother’s hand found the small of his back and pushed him back into position.

Once he was sure Dean wouldn’t move, Sam crouched to untie his brother’s shoes. He pulled them off and straightened to find Dean’s pants opening.

Dean whimpered, hating that he had that kind of noise in him, and Sam stroked a soothing hand up and down his back.

“It’s all right,” Sam said. “I said I’ve got you, remember?”

And then Sam pulled his pants and underwear off in one smooth motion.

Dean was trembling again. This time he even noticed it. Sam tossed the jeans to the side and then came up to drape his body over his brother’s.

“Don’t move, okay?” He said into Dean’s ear. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sam—” Dean tried, ashamed of how pathetic and weak his voice sounded.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

His breath came out in whoosh that was barely a whisper. “Okay”

Sam stayed against him for a few seconds, and then he was gone.

If Dean had been listening he would have heard Sam rummaging around in the other room, but all he could hear was the chaos inside his own head. This was wrong, he knew it was. It had to be. But, why he couldn’t he stop it? Why was he helpless against Sam’s determined, instructive voice? All of these new desires that were running through him had to have come from somewhere, but he’d never noticed before. He had to have known if he’d wanted this before. Right? He couldn’t have not known if he wanted his brother to completely control him like this. If that was true, though, then why was he harder than he’d ever been in his life?

He didn’t know Sam was back in the room he until he felt his presence on his back. He hadn’t noticed his brother had taken his clothes off either, but it was unmistakably bare skin against his when Sam leaned against him.

A finger tapped against Dean’s chin. Sam didn’t say anything, but Dean knew what he wanted. Opening his mouth, he sucked his brother’s finger inside. He moved his tongue around it like Sam had taught him to do for his cock.

A chuckle came from behind his hear. “Nice, Dean. I knew you were a fast learner.”

Despite himself, a hint of pride warmed Dean’s chest.

The hand that Dean wasn’t sucking on began to run gently up and down his side.

“I know you’re confused right now.” Sam’s voice was gentle, like before, but this time the husky lust in it was there for sure. “But it’s all right. I’m here. I’m yours, you know. I’ve been yours ever since Dad gave me to you. That means I’ve got you. I’m not going to hurt you, not going to break you. I would never do anything that would damage you. You have to believe that.”

And Dean did. In spite of this whole fucked up situation. Sam had Dean, and Dean had Sam. That would never change.

“You may not want to do some of the things I’m asking you to do—” Dean wasn’t aware he’d ever been asked, but he let that slide. “—but I promise none of them will hurt you. You’re safe with me, Dean.”

Sam’s nose nuzzled into Dean’s neck. “I’ve wanted you for so long. You probably don’t know, but it’s always been you. But the way you acted, so cock sure. It wasn’t until I met Jess that I understood it was an act. You don’t have to act for me, Dean.”

Little kisses were accompanying the nuzzling now. “I know you don’t mean to. I know that you’ve kept it up so long it’s become a part of your behavior. I’m going to train it out of you. I’m going to make you into the person you should have been—would have been if Dad hadn’t fucked us up.”

The words were scaring the shit out of Dean, couldn’t Sam see? Dean needed those walls he’d built for himself. He couldn’t function without them.

“But don’t worry about any of that for now. Just focus on me. I’m all you need to think about. It’ll be easy if you let yourself,” Sam promised. “Your whole life you’ve been trained to follow the orders of the Winchester men. Trained, Dean. Dad made you into a little yes-man.”

Dean didn’t how Sam’s voice could be so kind when talking about this kind of stuff.

“I’m going to shift your compulsion to obey from him to me. You need it right now. You’re not ready to accept this whole thing, so you need the orders.” Just then Sam sank his teeth into Dean’s shoulder. Dean moaned around the digit in his mouth. “You need the violence. You only learn if someone makes you. And honestly?”

Sam’s voice was hot and heavy against Dean’s ear. “I’m just fine with that.”

The finger was pulled from his mouth, and Dean reddened as he realized he’d made an unhappy noise as it was taken away. God, where was all of this coming from? Was it like Sam said? Was it Dad’s fault that he needed this?

Dean didn’t have to time to really think about it because at that moment Sam brushed his wet finger against Dean’s asshole. He yelped and jerked away, his chest pressed against the wall, his feet on either side of the toilet bowl.

Behind him, Sam was laughing. He wrapped one arm around Dean’s middle and pulled him away from the wall. He left Dean’s feet where they were.

“What did you think was gonna happen with you naked and bent over in front of me? I’m going to fuck you, Dean.” Sam’s voice was full of promise. “And you’re gonna let me. You’re a better fighter than I am, Dean, we both know that. If you really wanted to, you could push me away, but instead you’ll pretend I forced you. Instead of fighting it, you’re gonna stand there and I’m gonna fuck you. But first…”

Sam reached for a sack he’d left on the counter. Dean hadn’t even seen it.

“…First you have to learn your place.”

And with that Sam pushed his finger inside of him. The spit had dried a little, so there was some burn as it went it.

He was whimpering, Dean realized after a bit, but he was too scared to stop. Sam was rubbing his back again, whispering soothing noises as he gently worked the fist knuckle of his finger inside.

Dean’s traitorous cock was throbbing. He himself was terrified, but his little pecker was having the time of its life.

After a bit, Sam pulled his finger out. A sigh of relief shook Dean’s whole body. But then he felt something slick and rubbery feeling pushing inside. It was much smaller so it slipped right in. He jerked as he felt something cold and wet start to build up inside him.

“What…what are you doing?” He found the voice to say.

“Douching you.” Sam’s voice was completely matter of fact.

Whipping his head around to see, Dean saw Sam with a blue rubber bag in his hand. Connected to it was a white rubber hose leading to Dean’s ass. The strange sensation he had felt was the fluid in the bag pouring into his ass.

“Eyes front.” It was the same clipped, hard voice from before. The one that sent heat straight to Dean’s cock.

He was looking at bad bathroom wallpaper before he even realized he’d moved.

Having your insides filled with water—or whatever the hell was in that damned bag—was not a pleasant experience. Obviously. In fact, it got really uncomfortable really quick. There was a high pitched whine in the air that he only realized after a minute was coming from him. And that wasn’t even counting the pure humiliation of the act itself. Guys didn’t douche, that was something girls did.

God, Dean thought, couldn’t he have called it…called it…an enema or something? Anything was better than douche.

“I know you don’t like this, Dean,” Sam’s voice was soothing again, “but it’s necessary. I’m gonna get you all clean for me. I’m gonna clean you out so you’re ready for me.”

Somehow, Dean didn’t think his brother was just talking about the douche.

A softer, more sensual tone came over Sam’s voice now. “Look how hard you are. You want it so badly, you can’t fucking stand it.”

Dean never heard Sam shift positions, but suddenly his brother was back at his ear, whispering filthy things into it.

“I’m douching you like a woman and you’ve never been more turned on in your life. You love this, Dean. You love how I’ve supposedly taken your choice away. You love doing what you’re told.”

Groaning, Dean wanted to protest, but there were no words that came to him. Nothing he could say that would prove his brother wrong, and, really, it was a little late.

The hot puff of Sam’s breath against his ear was driving Dean crazy, but he wasn’t done yet. “This isn’t the only thing girls do that I’m gonna teach you.”

Sam laughed against his ear. “I’m going to teach how to have multiple orgasms. I’m gonna teach you to come over and over again like a little bitch. I’m going to fuck you so long, make you come so many times, that your body won’t even be able to squirt anymore.”

Dean nearly sobbed as Sam made his final promise. “You’re gonna come and I won’t even be able to see it. Just like a girl.”

It was too much for him, all these things Sam was telling him. Or, it would have been if he’d been allowed to think about it. Hard and fast, Sam brought his hand down on Dean’s ass cheeks. This time he swallowed the sound that wanted out.

“I’m taking out the hose now,” Sam told him. “Hold the fluid inside you.”

He slapped Dean’s ass again, almost playfully this time. “You’d better tighten up, boy.”

Sam calling him boy was just so wrong—he was older, damn it—but it stroked more heat into Dean’s cock. He hadn’t thought that was possible.

It was taking Sam an awfully long time to take the hose’s nozzle out of Dean’s ass. Not because it was long, but because he was doing it teasingly slow. Centimeter by centimeter.

“Please, Sam,” he gasped, desperate to get it out. “Please.”

“There’s just a little left,” Sam’s voice was teasing again. “Tighten for me, hold it in.”

If there’s one thing Dean can safely say he never imagined himself doing, it would be holding the fluid from a douche bag inside his ass because his brother ordered told him to. But he did it. He flexed his ass muscles and tightened up his channel. It made the last little bit the hose still had to go uncomfortable, but he didn’t complain.

He should complain. Should have a very Sam-esque fit about this whole damn deal, but he didn’t. He stayed still and compliant against the wall. Because his bother told him to.

Behind him, Sam said nothing. He just stood waiting as the pressure of the fluid in Dean’s insides built up. Clenching up his ass muscles like this was a new experience for Dean, and he was sure he felt little trickles down his legs every now and then. He wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long, but he would try his hardest.

He hoped that counted for something.

God, why was he doing this? Why was he standing naked against the wall with douche fluid in his ass? Why was he letting Sam do these things to him? Dean Winchester did not let people put things in his ass—and people had tried. He had a nice ass, everyone said so, but it was Off Limits.

So why, then, was he allowing this to happen? He couldn’t pretend Sam was making him. As much as he might like to, Sam had always been below Dean in fighting skills. Even if Sam did have superior strength—with his fucking huge Sasquatch body it would be pretty much impossible for him not to—Dean knew how to work with that.

If it wasn’t that, why? The only thing his mind could come up with was because Sam told me to. That couldn’t be it. That couldn’t be all. And, yet, maybe it was. When it all started, out in the bedroom, Sam didn’t even touch him. Didn’t coerce or force him in any way. Sam just used That Voice and Dean had opened up like he’d always been doing it.

Dean’s cheeks turned red thinking about how he’d sat in that crappy little chair and let his brother fuck his mouth. How could he have done that? Why would he ever let that happen if he wasn’t being forced? If he had done because Sam told him to, had not been forced…his mind shied away from the conclusion he’d been about to draw.

The pressure in his guts was almost unbearable.

“Sam, I can’t hold it.” Dean gritted his teeth.

“Just a little bit longer, baby.” Dean’s ears burned at this new pet name. “Just a little more.”

“I—I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Sam—”

“Do it for me.”

Sweat broke out all over Dean’s body, but at those words he tightened himself even more. For Sammy. Realization washed over Dean.

He had upped his resolve to hold in this fluid because Sam told him. Sam was right, he did need this. Panic started to fray the corners of his psyche. A deep pressure hung on his chest. When he spoke it was almost a sob.

“Sammy, I—”

“Shh, I’ve got you.” Sam was draped along his back again, stroking him soothingly. “Lower yourself over the bowl.”

Spread over the toilet as he was it was kind of awkward, but he bent his knees and sat.

“You’ve done so well so far,” Sam praised, “you’re being so good. Let it out now, Dean.”

Dean’s muscles were unclenching before Sam had even finished that last sentence.

There was a snigger from behind him, and Sam was patting his head like a dog. “Don’t jump the gun next time, okay? Wait ‘til I tell you.”

There were any number of things he could have said—should have said. Fuck you, Sam, or, There won’t be a next time.

But instead he leaned into the touch of his brother’s hand and—almost apologetically— mumbled, “’Kay.”

He didn’t see Sam’s radiant smile, but he heard it in his voice when he said, “Stand up for me, baby.”

Flushing, Dean protested, “Don’t call me that.” But he got to his feet.

Sam didn’t give the slightest indication he’d heard his brother’s declaration. “Come over here and brace yourself on the counter.”

He was pointing to the counter the sink was set into. Sam was a little ways down from the sink, though.

Dean hesitated. There was a big mirror on that wall. Experiencing all this shit was one thing, but watching it happen? He didn’t know if he could handle that.

“It’s alright,” Sam calmed. “Come here”

For the first time since they entered the bathroom Dean could see Sam. If possible, he looked even more erect than before.

“Eyes up here.” It was That Voice again.

Green eyes flickered from the huge cock up to Sam’s face. The expression on that face was stern, but not unkind.

“Come here, Dean.”

He found himself shuffling toward his brother before he could stop himself.

“Bend over and grab the edge of the counter.”

Dean moved to comply, but Sam said, “Spread your legs apart.”

Red blossomed over Dean’s face all over again. How many times had he said that to a girl? Spread your legs for me, baby. Did Sam know? Or was just the obvious thing to say? Neither option would have surprised him.

“More,” Sam said.

Obediently, Dean spread his legs further apart.

“Lean forward so your chest is on the counter.”

He did that too, leaning to lay his cheek against the laminate. Finally, he had the position to his brother’s satisfaction.

Sam ran his hand over Dean’s flank. “Good boy.”

“Not a dog,” Dean muttered.

“You wanna be, though, don’t you?” Sam leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Can’t you just imagine yourself on all fours, spiked color around your neck, dog-ear headband, your hands locked into paw-shaped gloves, dog-tail butt plug in your tight little hole, following me around, fetching the paper, laying at my feet? You would look so hot like that. Maybe we’d even paint one of your eyes black. Just for the effect.”

The scary thing was, Dean could imagine it. His head conjured the picture with vivid clarity, and he couldn’t repress the shiver that shook his entire spine at the image.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Sam pulled away. “Reach around and spread your cheeks for me.”

The shame of being douched was nothing compared to that request. His cheeks—on his face—burned so hot he was sure the bathroom would catch fire. Not only was Sam gonna fuck him, he was gonna make Dean hold himself open for it to happen. He couldn’t, there was no way—but his hands were already rising. He took a hold of his ass cheeks and spread them apart.

Sam growled as Dean’s asshole came into view. “Yeah, there it is. I’m gonna fuck you, baby, gonna put my cock in you, gonna be awesome.”

Awesome? Dean almost let out a high-pitched, panicky laugh. He didn’t see how shoving something that huge into his ass would be awesome, but it wasn’t like he could back out now. If they stopped, Sam would apologize, would wanna talk about it, and Dean’s psyche was fragile enough with putting all this fucked-up-ness into words.

And if he was being totally honest he didn’t want to stop. He wasn’t okay with that fact yet, but he acknowledged it. He wanted this. He wanted what Sam was doing to him.

There was a popping sound as Sam flipped a bottle of lube open. Dean didn’t actually see him do it, but he jerked off enough to recognize the sound.

A hand landed gently on his lower back and Dean flinched.

“It’s okay,” Sam was using the gentle voice now. “It won’t hurt, promise. Gonna finger you real good, use lots of lube. You’ll be all open and wet for me.”

Open and wet were never words Dean wanted applied to him, but as Sam spoke them a finger of need tickled along his groin. If Sam didn’t stop talking and get on with it, Dean might just come right there. Dirty talk had always turned him on, but apparently authoritative dirty talk damn near blew his mind.

He was so fucked up.

The first wet finger softly touched his opening, and Dean tensed reflexively.

“Hey, now.” Sam’s voice was still the soothing one, but there was hints of That Voice in it. “You gotta relax for me, baby. Gotta relax and let me in. I won’t hurt you, I promised, but you gotta relax.”

Shivering, Dean took a deep breath, and as he let it out he made a conscious effort to push the tension from his body. He still wasn’t fully relaxed, but his opening wasn’t quiveringly tight, either.

“That’s good, just like that.” Sam stroked Dean’s sides for what felt like the millionth time that night. “Breath again, in and out. Get all relaxed for me.”

Dean repeated his breathing exercise. And again.

After the third time, Dean wheezed, “I think that’s as good as gets.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna count to six. One. Two.”

And he pushed his finger in.

It didn’t really hurt, but Dean barked in surprise anyway.

“You said six!” Dean lifted up his head to stare back at his brother accusingly.

“You would have been expecting six,” Sam’s voice was lawyer smooth. “This way you were still relaxed.”

Grumbling, Dean laid his head back down.

The finger wriggled and whirled inside him. It moved up and down, and side to side. It didn’t hurt, but it was a really weird sensation as it made room in Dean’s insides.

“God, Dean,” Sam sighed. “You’re so tight around me, baby. Just one finger and it’s like a fucking vice. Gonna feel so good on my cock, can’t wait. But I gotta get you ready first.”

Apparently, Sam hadn’t pushed his index finger all the way because Dean felt it move forward. It moved around, not as orderly as before. Not like it was stretching him, but more like it was searching—

Dean shouted as something flared to life inside him. Tingles were running through his body from head to toe.

“There it is.” Sam sounded delighted. “Found your boy-button, baby.”

“What?” Dean gasped.

“Your prostate,” his brother explained.

Of course he knew he had one, in a very vitamin commercial kinda way, but he hadn’t known it would feel like Christmas morning for his cock. He was positively weeping precum, and he never made that much.

Fireworks started going off behind Dean’s eyes as Sam rubbed his finger gently back and forth.

“Your boy-button makes come, it’s why it feels so good. It’s wired directly to your cock.” Sam smiled at the stoned out look on his brother’s face. “It’ll be so easy to come when I’m fucking the shit out of you, hitting your button with each stroke. You’ll see.”

If just a finger felt like this, what would Sam’s cock feel like inside him? Dean was starting to rethink his whole mortal terror thing.

Sam pulled off and Dean whimpered, but he wasn’t empty long. He almost tensed up when he felt two fingers press against his hole, but they chunneled right inside. The lube hadn’t had any time to warm up this time, so it was like being fucked with a spike of ice. It felt like Sam was shoving a popsicle up his ass. Dean was about to complain but he quickly rethought that one. He didn’t want to give Sam any more fucked up ideas.

He couldn’t stop the surprised hiss that escaped between his teeth, though. Sam knew exactly what was bothering him. Dean wasn’t even surprised.

“It’s all right, just give it a sec. It’ll warm up soon, baby,” Sam promised.

Dean was about to make his second attempt to talk his brother out of that stupid pet name when not one, but two fingers brushed across his prostate. If he had shouted before, he howled now.

“I knew you were noisy during sex.” Sam sounded smug. “I knew it.”

With the echoes of his voice drifting around them, Dean wanted to find enough breath to tell Sam to shove it, but he couldn’t. His brother kept stroking his “button” like it was his new favorite pet. Dean barely had the air to breathe, forget talk.

Sure, his muscles were aching a little. If one finger was weird, than two were definitely uncomfortable. But the insane, intense pleasure of his new-found favorite organ was pretty much counteracting that. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Finally, Sam backed off and Dean sucked in a breath. His chest was heaving, and the sound of his panting seemed unnaturally loud in the small room.

“You’ve done so good, baby, so good,” Sam was telling him. “This next part is gonna get a little harder. You still with me?”

It was the first time Sam had specifically asked him about his involvement in all of this. The first time he’d had to admit out loud he wanted it. That made Dean hesitate to answer.

“Dean?” Sam prodded.

Fuck it, Dean thought, I can’t stop now, not after that prostate thing. It didn’t even hurt to admit that as much as he thought it would.

Giving a shaky nod, Dean breathed, “Yeah. I’m with you.”

Sam leaned his forehead against the small of Dean’s back—he must have crouched down to have a better angle—and placed short, almost chaste kisses there.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Sam’s tone nearly matched Dean’s. “You’re doing so good.”

Dean shouldn’t have loved to hear that, but he did. His chest practically swelled with pride. Sammy was proud of him! He smiled in spite of himself and Sam stopped breathing for a minute. Dean’s eyes had flitted closed sometime after Sam’d introduced two fingers to his prostate, and with that genuine, gorgeous smile on his face he was like something angelic. Something from a dream.

“Beautiful,” Sam whispered. “So beautiful, baby.”

There was almost reverence in Sam’s voice and Dean thought for the first time that maybe…maybe Sam needed this too. It warmed him, that thought, took away some of the sharp edges his fractured internal walls had made. They might be fucked up, but they were fucked up together.

Just knowing that made Dean’s sketchy acceptance a little firmer, and he wiggled his hips at his brother. Reminding him.

Sam chuckled. “Okay, okay. Who’s running this show, anyway?”

For a second, Dean recaptured his old cockiness. “Well if you can’t handle it, maybe I’ll just have to.”

There was no response, not a verbal one, anyway. Instead, Sam’s fingers struck his prostate with renewed vengeance. Dean cried out as electric fire flooded his insides, as behind his eyes went white with starbursts and firecrackers. He was gonna come, there was no way he couldn’t, but he didn’t want it to be Sam’s fingers inside him when he did.

“O—” Dean tried, but couldn’t breathe. He dragged air into his lungs and wheezed, “Okay…okay!”

The fingers retreated, and the almost-sob Dean made could have been disappointment or relief. Sam withdrew the fingers completely, and Dean’s hips lifted off the counter trying to follow them.

As he coated his fingers with more lube, Sam leaned forward and kissed each of Dean’s hands where they were still holding himself open. It startled Dean. He’d sorta forgot about them. He didn’t know how, but he had.

Two fingers made their way back into him, and Dean braced himself for the cold, but it wasn’t as bad this time. For just a second, Dean was wondering why it was two fingers and not three, but then Sam scissored them apart.

It didn’t quite hurt—it burned. The ache of muscles protesting at the things you’re doing to them. Sam didn’t just scissor sideways, he did it up and down. Even twisted his wrist and did it in a circle. Despite the new lube, it was almost too much.

He moaned, and Sam pressed in to flick his prostate some more. A few of those wrist-twisty passes over it and the ache in his ass was all but forgotten.

Sam left him gasping for breath as he took his index and middle fingers out again. It was three fingers, now, all bunched together. Dean whined the entire time they were pushing in. Somewhere along the way Sam had started a stream of what was supposed to be comfort.

“You’re so tight, baby, so tight, it’s okay, just relax, gonna open you real good, just let me, gonna feel so good, baby, I’ve got you—”

Dean lost the specific words after awhile—three fingers twisting around inside you will do that—and it was more the tone of voice he focused on. He tuned out and allowed the love…the adoration in Sam’s voice into himself. Maybe he hadn’t heard it before, or maybe Sam hadn’t let him—Dean wasn’t sure—but he was hearing it now. And it meant the world to him.

He’d given everything he had to his dad, and John Winchester had barely noticed, let alone cared. But Sammy was different. Sammy knew what Dean had done for him, knew he’d always take care of him like he said he would, knew that he’d always be there. He knew and he cared, and for the first time in his life Dean realized how much Sam had appreciated it. Not just that—loved it. The emotion was clear in his brother’s voice, and it was making its way to soften the hard edges of his soul.

Sammy pulled his fingers out, and Dean’s unhappy moan this time was because they were taken away.

That familiar chuckle was back. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t leave you empty. Time to take it up a notch.”

The words would have made his ears prick up in alarm if the human species could do that. Dean heard the rustle of a plastic sack, but before he could see what his brother was after, Sam was back behind him.

“Stay relaxed and open for me, okay baby?” Then Sam laughed. “Good thing I got more lube. This one’s almost out.”

Dean wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Two

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