In their hotel room for the night, Sam and Dean suddenly gravitated to each other, irresistible to one another. They didn’t even try to fight it. Dean felt completely taken over as he flung himself onto Sam, crushing their lips together.
Sam gasped into the kiss, surprised by his brother’s passion. He kissed him back after initial shock. In the far back of his mind, he was worried. This was a drug, making them do this. But it felt so good… Dean kept making these little sounds, cupping Sam’s face and dragging their bodies close, close enough to touch.
Sam growled and grabbed Dean, pushing him up against the wall, devouring his mouth. One large hand on the nape of Dean’s neck, another snaking under his t-shirt, feeling the warm skin there.
“Sammy,” Dean croaked. “Feels so good,” as Sam nuzzled his neck, biting softly and then soothing with tiny kisses. Dean’s fingers curled around the ends of Sam’s blouse, tugging, wanting it off. Trembling fingers moved over the buttons, undoing them one by one, revealing his brother’s chest slowly. With the tips of his fingers Dean traced the soft skin there, over strong pecs and defined abs. Sam pulled back to look at Dean, both their eyes clouded with want.
“God, you’re so hot, Sam,” Dean murmured as he wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck, kissing him lazily, pulling back ever so slightly. “Always wanted to touch you like this,” honest words spilling easily.
Hazel met green with a spark, as Sam moved instantly, his arms tangling with Dean’s, removing them from his neck and effectively pinning Dean’s hands above his head against the wall. Dean gasped, as Sam wrapped both of Dean’s hands in one of his own, using the other to trace softly over the side of Dean’s face, down to his neck. Dean swallowed, as the fingers were replaced by Sam’s mouth, whispering hotly into his ear.
“I’ve always wanted to touch you like this, too, Dean. I knew you’d like it like this, me holding you down, pushing you into the wall.”
Dean whimpered. “Sammy.”
Sam leaned into Dean, their groins hot and hard, the friction delicious. They moved against each other, impossibly closer. When Dean moaned, Sam kissed him hungrily, tasting him deeply as he moved his free hand to Dean’s belt buckle, flipping it open with expertise. His long fingers undid the button of Dean’s jeans, unzipping him, feeling his hardness.
Dean moaned against him, trying to get more friction, desperately moving against his brother’s hand. Sam released Dean, trying to unzip his own fly, Dean’s hands tangling in his hair with urgency as they rubbed against each other. Dean’s moans increased and Sam groaned.
“Yes Dean, want you to feel so good.”
“More, Sammy. I need–”
Suddenly, they stilled against each other, the ringing in their ears fading away. Their gaze was no longer foggy, their minds no longer filled by raw desire and want. Both panted, out of breath, bodies still close against the wall, hot and worked up.
Sam tried to make sense of everything, not moving, as Dean’s hands slipped from his hair, hanging helplessly at his sides. When Dean met his eye with a look of utter fear, Sam gulped.
"Oh god,” he breathed, taking a wobbly step away from Dean. What just happened? Well, he knew what happened, but how did this happen?
Dean’s face was flushed, as he tried to slow down his erratic breathing. Then he looked down, realising his jeans had been unzipped. He didn’t say anything, because, what could he possibly say? He just made out with his brother. And truth be told, he liked it. He still felt it, the desire, deep down. Always wanted to touch you like this–things he blurted out filled his mind and the shock on his face became even more apparent.
“Dean,” Sam started, his voice hoarse.
Dean swallowed, looking everywhere but at his brother.
“Dean, I’m so sorry…” Sam said.
Dean finally looked back at Sam, seeing his chest glistening with sweat, red tinge high on his cheeks.
“Please hear me out Dean.”
“I can’t, Sam,” Dean started, vivid memories replaying in his head. Him flinging himself at Sam, kissing him, telling him–his brother how hot he was. And Sam… kissing him back, pinning him against the wall, holding his hands so tight, controlling him. This was all so wrong, in so many ways. But then why had it felt so good, so liberating, so right?
Dean was torn. He opened his mouth to say something but he couldn’t, his eyes flickering here and there in memory. Sam saw it and realised Dean’s inner turmoil.
Sam bit his lip. Dean was probably not taking this very well, the rough way Sam touched him, held him down, admitted that he’d wanted to do that for a long time now. But the way Dean responded to him, touched him back, spell or not, it had to mean something. Sam’s eyes widened as he remembered what that old witch once told them; a love spell merely increased the feelings that people already held for each other, it wouldn’t suddenly make people fall in love if they weren’t already feeling it deep down.
“We got tricked?” Dean asked suddenly.
“Love spell,” Sam answered, looking at him.
“Are you sure? Because a love spell only–” Dean cut himself off, remembering clearly what that witch told them once. He could positively feel the blood drain from his face. He couldn’t get angry anymore or try to run, because he couldn’t lie to himself and to Sam. It was him who initiated all of this. He forced himself onto Sam and he said all those things. Ice cold fear overcame him, realising he’d spilled his deepest secret to the one person who should never, ever have known.
“Sammy. I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking defeated, like he just lost everything that ever mattered.
“It’s okay Dean, I mean, we were both pretty messed up just now.”
“I mean it, Sam. I’m sorry. What I did, it’s just wrong…”
Sam risked stepping closer to Dean. “Maybe, but not for us, Dean. We’ve got more in common than we knew. I mean, you weren’t alone in what went down just now. I was right there with you.”
Sam smiled at him, seeing the pieces of the puzzle slowly fall into place.
“Oh. Huh.” Dean said, his heart beating a bit faster, a small smile forming on his lips.
Sam gazed at Dean, realising how gorgeous his brother was. How much he loved him.
“No chick flick moments, Sammy,” Dean said warningly, but his eyes shimmered.
“Whatever you say, jerk,” he replied fondly.
“Bitch,” Dean retorted with affection.
They slipped into a comfortable silence, both thinking about what this all meant, both elated at the outcome of this situation.
“Did you mean what you said, what you..did?” Dean asked suddenly, quietly.
Sam moved in on him and cupped his face with both hands, Dean leaning into the warmth.
“You have to ask? Yes, I meant it. All of it. And more.”