It was just after 2:30 in the morning when a loud, frantic knock at the door brought Sam and Dean out of their respective trances.
Dean had been working on his fourth beer of the night, half-watching some nature documentary on the motel’s shitty excuse for a TV with the volume turned almost too low to hear. Sam was doing yet another set of sit-ups, in an over-the-top exercise routine born from a mixture of boredom and habit. He couldn’t really sleep since exiting Lucifer’s Cage and had dispassionately explained to Dean that the motion of muscle and tendon was one of the few things that reminded him that he was still alive.
They both looked at the door and then one another as they waited in the near-quiet to see if the knocking would resume. It wouldn’t be the first time some lot lizard or meth head had pounded on the wrong door to find an angry pair of insomniac hunters.
When the knocking resumed, louder and more urgent than before, Dean quickly and quietly swung his feet off the bed and picked up his gun from the night stand. Sam stopped his reps but stayed seated on the floor, soulless calm dampening his reaction to their surprise visitor.
Dean shook his head and huffed at Sam as he flipped off the TV and stealthily crossed the room. He still wasn’t totally sure how to behave around Sam these days but his brother’s lack of action in this moment seemed to fit the pattern of behavior Dean had come to expect from his current state.
Dean paused to listen for a moment before looking out the peephole. His brain almost short circuited when his eyes focused on the face on the other side of the small glass lens. It was a young man in his early twenties wearing a burgundy hoodie pulled up around his face. His sharp, boyishly handsome features were framed by a haphazard fringe of brown hair. His eyes glinted golden-blue in the low light from the parking lot and deep-cut dimples bracketed his soft, pink mouth. His bottom lip looked overly plump from being gnawed on in worry. Despite the poor view and the dim light Dean’s heart knew who the boy was right away, even as his brain tried to think of a million reasons to reject the theory.
“Sammy – ?” Dean croaked. His forehead stayed pressed to the door as he tried to make sense of why a younger version of Sam Winchester appeared to be standing on the other side.
“Who is it, Dean?” Sam kept his voice low as he stood up, finally curious enough to see what was rattling his brother so deeply.
As the boy outside knocked again, Dean stepped away with his gun still raised, clenched tightly in his fist. His mind raced as he tried to think of what kind of creature could bring a manifestation like this to their doorstep and what its purpose would be in doing so.
Sam raised a concerned eyebrow, eyes washing over Dean for a moment before he crossed to the door and saw for himself.
“Dean? Dean! Dammit open up.” The voice from the other side of the door was higher in pitch than current Sam’s and it filled Dean with dizzying nostalgia. “It’s me, it’s Sam. I know you’re there, I can fucking hear you.”
Neither brother moved, locked in the surreal moment, both waiting for something to give. Their lives were weird but this…? This was new.
“Please, just fucking let me in. It’s me, I swear,” the voice outside pleaded. “I – I need you, Dean. Please!”
Sam’s hand went to the doorknob as he continued looking out the peephole.
“What the fuck are you doing, Sam?” Dean barked in a harsh whisper. He didn’t know who or what was outside their door wearing Sam’s body circa 2001 but he couldn’t imagine it being anything good.
“I’m pretty sure that really is me, Dean,” Sam said coolly as he unchained the door. He gave Dean a reassuring glance before turning the doorknob. “Get the holy water and silver if you want.”
The version of Sam that stepped into the dark motel room was several inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter than the one that had walked back into Dean’s life sans-soul barely a month before. He pulled back the hood of his sweatshirt and looked wild-eyed back and forth between Dean and Sam. Panic washed his face and his chest heaved with stuttered breath, his concern clearly matching, if not exceeding, Dean’s.
“Dean, I – are you – ? Where’s Dad? I have to – ” Sammy rambled, as if he couldn’t form a complete thought. His pupils widened before he took another step into the room, his knees wobbling and then buckling. Sam swooped in to catch him while Dean looked on, still frozen in shock. The lanky boy sagged against Sam and the side of his face pressed against his larger self’s bare, sweaty chest. His eyes were still locked on Dean, even though he seemed to be struggling to remain conscious.
“Sammy, what the hell is going on?” Dean discarded his weapon on the table next to Sam’s laptop and leaned closer, pushing Sammy’s hair back from his forehead. “Talk to me. What did this? How are you here?”
A sweet, almost intoxicated looking smile spread across Sammy’s face as he clung to the older version of himself. “Dean, I don’t know, exactly. I just – just…” Sammy’s glassy eyes pleaded with Dean, “Just please, promise me you won’t be mad.”
“I’m not – we’re not mad, Sammy but you’re not making any sense.” Dean searched Sammy’s eyes in the dim light. He didn’t need the holy water or silver. He was convinced it was really Sammy – his Sammy – the one that left for Stanford all those years ago, the one that broke his heart in two by leaving him behind for Stanford.
Dean’s hand ran down Sammy’s bicep, fingers sprawling over the blocky Stanford “S” embroidered on the arm of his hoodie. The deep wound in Dean’s heart that had scabbed over years ago suddenly throbbed bright and fresh, like the wound was new again, as if it had never healed.
“There was this woman, a carnie or gypsy or something. My friend Jess and I went to this carnival and we went in her tent… I guess she was just supposed to tell me my future or whatever but things got so fucked up, I – I don’t know what I was thinking but I told her…” Sammy gasped as he ranted, eyes wild as his hand scrambled at Dean’s forearm. “Dean, I – I told her everything… It all came rushing out and I couldn’t stop it! I told her about Mom and Dad and you… how I feel… how I’ve always felt… about you.” Sam’s eyelashes fluttered and his eyes tilted down.
“I started crying and she asked me what my one true wish was and I swear Dean, I didn’t mean to think of you like that – I didn’t! It was like that part in Ghostbusters where Ray thinks of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man on accident? It was just the first thought that came to my mind! If I had known… I didn’t mean for this to happen…” Tears welled up in the corner of Sammy’s eyes for a moment before he blinked them away, shaking his head and pressing his face against Sam’s chest again. He was so young, so vulnerable, it made Dean’s heart lurch dangerously in his chest.
Dean drew a deep breath, acutely aware of what Sammy had just told him. Part of him wanted to pull the young version of his brother into his arms and kiss the tears away but Dean steeled his resolve, he needed to know what exactly Sammy had asked the witch for if they were ever going to fix this.
“Sammy, what was your wish, exactly? Did she tell you anything else, like how long this is going to last or what will send you back?” Dean asked as calmly as he could, glancing up to see a somewhat concerned look on the face of the current version of his brother.
“Yeah, she said… uh…” Sammy’s eyes swam with fear as he struggled to find words. There was something else there too, something deep and hot, something that reminded Dean of the need and want he’d spent most of his life repressing.
Dean thought it was just a ridiculous trick of his foolish heart at first but then Sammy’s hand reached for Dean’s face, his long fingers spreading out as his narrow wrist curved to run his fingertips through the side of Dean’s hair. Dean’s hand joined Sammy’s, sliding over it and keeping it snug up against the curve of his face as he practically nuzzled into it. Sammy’s thumb slipped over Dean’s bottom lip.
“The wish, Dean,” Sammy’s voice trembled as he traced back over Dean’s lip slowly. “My wish. It – she said it has to come true…” The heat in his eyes told Dean exactly how salacious the wish had been and while his body felt magnetically pulled toward Sammy’s Dean’s mind was screaming at him for a full stop.
He indulgently let his tongue sweep over the whorls of Sammy’s fingerprint for a moment before he pulled back, doing everything in his power to keep his face calm and avoid the fear and trepidation from spilling out of his eyes. The distress in Sammy’s face told Dean he’d failed in hiding his reluctance.
Sam finally broke his stoic silence. “Believe me, Dean. He wants this. He’s wanted you this way ever since he knew that love had a physical form.” Sam reassured as he clutched the younger version of himself snug up against his large, muscular body.
Dean knew the words were true but he felt the weight of everything that had stopped him in the past pressing down on his broad shoulders. The fear, the guilt, and the denial surged through him again, decades of repression slapping him in the face.
Dean gritted his jaw and balled his fists as he looked between both versions of his brother. “Sam, Sammy, I just – I just can't. It feels like a violation! I’m sorry, this is insane!” The exasperation in Dean’s voice cut like steel through the thick, musty motel room air. “We’ll find another way to get you home, Sammy. I promise. We’ll fix this. We always do.” Every part of Dean wanted to bolt but he held firm, silently making a list of people to call for help.
Sammy’s young face hardened before Dean’s eyes, his brow knitting just like it always did back when he used to fight with Dad, like it did the night he told Dean he was leaving for Stanford. It was the look of a stubborn, passionate boy who’s determination had always driven Dean to do whatever it took to keep him safe.
Instead of voicing the emotions playing in his eyes, Sammy pushed up on his toes and kissed the current version of Sam on the side of his mouth, steadying himself with a hand spread over Sam’s bare chest.
Sam kept his soulless eyes on Dean’s even as his hands curled around Sammy’s sides to pull his lithe body up, letting his lips slide over to meet his younger self’s. Sammy let his eyes slip closed and moaned softly. A hungry, quiet sound that was almost lost against Sam’s lips. Sam tore his eyes away from Dean and began kissing Sammy back in earnest, his big hands sliding into the small of Sammy’s back.
Dean tried his best to look away, to force himself to go find his car keys and get the fuck away from the utter insanity of watching the brother he longed for but could never bring himself to touch and the brother he’d formed a cold, needs-based, sexual relationship with since Sam returned without his moral compass kiss lewdly in front of him. Dean’s body betrayed him in spades and he stumbled back against the edge of his bed as his cock thickened in his jeans. He sat down on the mattress, gripped his knees, and closed his eyes, shaking his head as the sounds of kissing and soft, breathy moans reverberated in his ears.
“Watch this, Dean. See how much he wants you… how much he needs you,” Sam growled. “It’s all he’s ever wanted, for you to be his first. Believe me, believe us.”
Dean’s eyes tilted up as if permission was all they were waiting for, gorging on the sight of Sammy’s mouth traveling hot and wet down Sam’s sternum. The knowledge that Sam had wanted him back when Dean had been a good brother and resisted temptation throbbed between his temples but he was still so afraid. There were two versions of his brother here begging for his touch and they didn’t seem interested in waiting for Dean to get with the program.
Sam pulled Sammy’s sweatshirt off over his head leaving the boy breathless. Sammy’s slender fingers tugged at the hem of his heather grey v-neck t-shirt and he peeled it off, revealing skin several shades paler than that of his current self.
Dean had seen his brother in various stages of undress more times than he could remember without it raising his pulse and yet watching Sammy and Sam strip down, their mouths wet with one another’s spit, lips pink and plump from hurried kisses, made his own mouth water and his cock weep in the tight confines of his pants.
He leaned back and spread his legs as he watched his boys come together again. Sammy had shed down to his threadbare, blue plaid boxers and Sam’s jeans had been unzipped and shoved down. Sam pressed Sammy’s hand against the underside of his thick erection where it curved up against his stomach before they devoured one another again, Sam’s free hand plucking at Sammy’s hard, pink little nipples before sliding down to tease at the elastic of Sammy’s boxers.
Dean had to choke back a gasp as he watched Sammy’s body wracked with jolts of pleasure, his eyes slammed shut. Sammy listed against Sam’s larger form as he had when he had nearly collapsed earlier only this time it was need making his knees weak instead of panic.
"He's so sensitive, Dean,” Sam taunted between kisses. “Bet you could make him come just pinching his nipples and licking his tight little hole.” Sam’s words were matter-of-fact but his voice was thick with lust as Sammy kissed and licked at the side of his neck.
Dean’s hips tilted up involuntarily and he groaned out loud. He slid his hand between his thighs and gave his balls a strong squeeze, shuddering as he realized how on edge he was just watching the scene unfold. He shut his eyes again and wet his lips, still uselessly trying to cling to whatever resistance he had left.
“Get your cock out, Dean. Show Sammy how hard you are for him,” Sam instructed. “You want to get him back home safe, don’t you?” Sam flashed a wicked smile, knowing he had hit Dean where he was the most sensitive. What more permission, what more noble cause could Dean need to break all the promises he’d made to himself than to save Sam?
Dean groaned again, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. While his sexual relationship with Sam was new, his brother’s ability to take him apart with words had always been uncanny. Dean obeyed as if there was a knife being held to his neck, the last vestiges of his self-control crumbling away.
Sam was pushing Sammy back onto the other bed as Dean’s fingers fumbled with his fly. He and shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down far enough to free his cock, groaning as it sprung free, burning and hard against his stomach.
“Still a virgin, aren’t you Sammy?” Sam’s eerie coolness made goosebumps raise on Dean’s skin. “That’s what you wished for, isn’t it? For Dean to be your first? It’s all I could think about when I was your age… Tell him, Sammy.”
Sammy whimpered against the rough kiss Sam gave him afterwards, his huge hand wrapped around the back of the boy’s neck. He had Sammy completely stripped down and laying on his back, blanketed by his own huge, muscular form, their equally large cocks rubbing together between the press of their abdomens. Dean watched as Sam pulled back, his thumb tracing the sharp line of Sammy’s jaw as their eyes met. Sammy was nodding yes, mouth agape and panting as he let Sam’s hands mold him like silly putty.
Sam didn’t wait for the boy to form words, he extracted himself from between Sammy’s long, skinny legs and gripped his waist, pulling Sammy with him as he stood at the foot of the bed. When Sammy’s ass was flush with the edge of the bed, Sam pushed his thighs apart, making his intent clear. Sam knelt on the floor and began kissing a path down the back of Sammy’s right thigh, making a beeline for the dusky cleft of his ass.
“Fuck yes, lick him open, Sam," Dean groaned breathlessly as he watched, the words spilling from his lips before he could edit or correct them. “Know how much you love that…” Dean muttered before Sammy’s desperate, incoherent whimpers drowned him out.
Sammy writhed and arched his back, pushing his ass toward his older self. Sam ran his thumbs up either side of Sammy’s needy hole, pulling his cheeks apart to let his hot, moist breath reach it. He knew every button to push, every trick to make Sammy fall apart, and soulless Sam cared little for mercy.
Dean ran the tips of his fingers through the slick pooling on his abdomen, leaving his cock to twitch for attention as he watched Sam sink his tongue inside. Sammy held his legs back and bit his lip while his hips slowly rocked against the talented mouth suckling at his hole. His mouth hung open in a silent, drawn out groan as Sam’s tongue began fucking in and out, straining inside to reach inside, deeper and deeper.
“Fuck. How’s he taste?” Dean asked as he began to tug at the head of his cock, eyes locked on Sammy’s face as it contorted in pleasure. “Remind you of suckin’ my dick clean after I fuck you?” Dean could taunt too, lust coursing through him made his words sharp and filthy.
“Come here and taste him for yourself,” Sam’s voice was just this side of ragged as he pulled back. “Know you want to.”
He spit on Sammy’s licked open pucker and ran the tip of his finger through the moisture. He circled Sammy’s hole, watching the boy’s face as he played. He gently pushed in to the first knuckle, twisting and thrusting gently into Sammy’s little virgin ass.
"Fuck yeah, Sam. Get your fingers in there and open him up.” Dean’s voice was almost a growl as he pushed off the bed and stepped out of his jeans. He gave the base of his dick another squeeze before reaching over to pluck the half empty bottle of lube from the nightstand between their beds.
Dean moved behind Sam, enjoying the better view of Sammy’s splayed thighs while still keeping his distance, content to be an observer in their game as long as he could. He flicked the cap of the lube open and held it out toward Sam as he watched his long, thick fingers work at Sammy’s ass. Without looking back at Dean, Sam took the bottle and applied a dribble of slick down Sammy’s taint, pulling his finger out and running two back through the slick, smearing it over his entrance.
“Breathe,” Sam huffed against the back of Sammy’s thigh, biting softly as he pushed his lube-slicked fingers past the tight, pink ring of muscle.
Sammy gasped, high-pitched and incoherent, before groaning out a desperate plea. “Yes ohmygod, Deannnn…” His hand slipped out from behind his knee and reached out for Dean’s, only managing to strain for him for a moment before gripping the bedspread, groaning and writhing as Sam’s fingers massaged his insides.
“That’s it, Sammy. Tell your big brother what you really want ‘cause if he doesn’t fuck you I’m going to.” Sam grinned against the back of Sammy’s smooth thigh as he urged the boy on, his fingers working in deep, curving up and scissoring for maximum stimulation and stretch.
Sam tilted his head back up toward Dean, offering him the lube. “Come on, Dean. Don’t be cruel. Can’t you see how much he needs this? He’s begging for you.”
Dean swallowed thickly as he took the bottle out of Sam’s hand and finally let the fingers of his other hand connect with Sammy’s fevered skin. Goosebumps erupted over Sammy’s thigh as Dean let his calloused fingertips graze along, dragging up over the jut of his hipbone.
“Sammy, I – ” Dean stumbled and his fingers separated from Sammy’s flesh, his joints twitching like he was guilt’s marionette, unable to reconcile his desire with his conscience.
Sammy was having none of it. His hand circled Dean’s wrist and tugged sharply, pulling Dean down on top of him, whether Dean liked it or not. Both of Sammy’s hands were on him, fingers on either side of Dean’s face, pulling their mouths together in a rushed, irrevocable symphony. It was immediately so perfect that it took Dean’s breath away. He suddenly felt like a fumbling virgin himself, unprepared for the intensity of sensation and emotion that washed over him as he fell headlong into everything that was Sam.
Sammy writhed underneath him, his hands scrambling up Dean’s back, fingers sinking into the curve of his ass. Dean’s cock wept against Sam’s taut skin and it was good, so good, that every semblance of right and wrong faded away and Dean’s only focus became pleasing the gorgeous creature he’d loved his entire life.
Sam was there too, on his feet now, standing next to the bed, watching, touching himself, and whispering filthy epithets into their ears.
“So fucking good. Both of you.”
“Don’t stop, he likes that, Sammy. Get on top.”
“Let him ride you, Dean.”
Dean’s hands were no longer servants of hesitancy as he pulled Sammy against him. His tongue and fingers explored every scrap of flesh Sammy offered to him and they both followed Sam’s suggestions seamlessly, like a perfectly choreographed wet dream.
Dean scooted up on the bed, pulling Sammy with him, hitching one of his brother’s skinny thighs up over his hip. Sammy crawled up Dean’s body, hands still clutching, almost clawing at him with need, franticly mapping out every muscle, every angle of Dean. Their hard, raw cocks grazed against one another, making them both shudder with need.
Dean felt the dip of the mattress as Sam joined them, on his knees next to them, letting his own hands trace parts of his younger self’s body in sheer reverence. Dean let his eyes flutter open, pulling himself out of sensory based pleasure to finally let himself witness the beauty of both his Sam’s making one another groan.
Sam was kissing along the ridge of Sammy’s shoulder, his arms winding around his skinny waist, thumbing over Sammy’s hard, pink little nipples with one hand while the other traced the underside of his stiff cock.
Dean reached for the lube again blindly, unable to pull his eyes away for more than a moment. He slicked his hand and lubed up his cock as Sammy watched, flexing and trembling under Sam’s capable hands.
“Oh God, Dean. Please.” Sam’s words were cut off as Sam bit down on the side of his neck, teeth scraping goosebumps out of the boy’s sweat-slicked skin.
Dean stroked his dick a few times before letting his hands fall to Sammy’s hips, urging him up and forward to get into position over his length.
Sammy folded down over Dean as he hoisted himself up. He was trembling and breathing hard as he sealed his mouth over Dean’s. The surge of emotion that passed between them almost took Dean’s breath away, it was like a tangible force, like the world dropping out from under their feet. He slid his hands over Sammy’s face, bumping their foreheads together for a moment as they kissed. If he did this there was no taking it back. What would it do to them? To their timeline? To the world around them? Dean put his palm on the center of Sammy’s chest and pushed him back for a moment.
“Are you sure?” Dean’s voice sounded fragile and distant in his own ears. Sammy’s breath was ragged and his pupils were wide as they focused on Dean. They were hungry and full of lust but also damp with the emotion of the moment. Time seemed to crystalize around them as thoughts and feelings, unspoken but absolutely soul-deep, passed between them.
“Yes,” Sammy gasped as he reached back and guided the tip of Dean’s dick into the slick cleft of his ass. “Never been more sure about anything, Dean.”
Sammy’s body was molten hot and crazy tight as it opened up for Dean. The sensation sucked the air out of Dean’s lungs as his brother slid down, slowly, so, so slowly. Sam’s hands were there too, a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder, a soothing hand sliding down the slick expanse of Sammy’s curving back.
“So good, Sammy,” Sam huffed against the side of his younger version’s neck. “Keep going, you’re almost there.”
Once Sammy settled into Dean’s lap they let out a collective gasp. Dean’s fingers twitched where they were dug into the flesh of Sammy’s sides as he tipped his hips up gently. Sammy began rocking slowly, his head tilted back and his body listing slightly to one side, where Sam was holding him up, urging him on.
“Relax and breathe.” Dean heard Sam whisper as Sammy adjusted for him, his insides slowly relenting to his girth.
Sammy groaned breathlessly as he began rocking with Dean, leaning forward with his hands on either side of Dean’s head. His brow was knit in concentration and his eyes were shut tight, squinting with the burn that seemed to be slowly fading as his body started moving fluidly under Dean’s hands.
“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked softly, stroking the side of his brother’s face, heart clenching at the thought of hurting him.
“’S so good, Dean… Fuck!” Sammy choked out, his young face still twisted up. “Tryin’ not to come… So fuckin’ big…”
The words sent an electric pulse right to the base of Dean’s cock and his hips canted up involuntarily, making Sammy cry out in a high-pitched little gasp.
“Can’t come yet, baby. Let us take care of you,” Sam slid his hand up Sammy’s cheek, turning his face to his own, kissing over his lips and cheeks sweetly. “So pretty getting fucked. Let your big brother fuck you open on his big dick. I wanna fuck you too.”
“Christ,” Dean gasped, fingers digging into the meat of Sammy’s thighs as he bucked up into him. The mental image of his fresh-faced Stanford boy being fucked into the mattress by his filthy as sin, big as a linebacker, older self almost brought Dean off then and there. The low rumble of Sam’s laugh brought him back by a measure and Sammy began riding him in earnest. His head was down and sweat was dripping from his bangs onto Dean’s chest. Harsh little bitten-off gasps were pouring from his lips as he fucked himself on Dean’s dick.
“Shit, Sammy. You gotta slow down, don’t hurt yourself,” Dean hissed as he raked his fingers into Sam’s sweaty hair. He ran his thumb over Sammy’s wet chin and his swollen bottom lip and began fucking up into him harder. His baby boy’s gorgeous mouth closed over his thumb in a sinful sweet suck that made his cock throb as Sammy panted around it.
“Open your legs, Dean,” Sam asked, his voice sounding so far away under the litany of moans coming from his younger self. Dean did as he was told, using the change in position for leverage, thrusting up into Sammy even harder despite his own words of caution a few moments before. Sam’s thick, muscular thighs sidled up under the bend of Dean’s knees and his fingers traced around Sammy’s stretched open hole. He pulled Sammy back up into a seated position, letting him lean back against his chest as Dean continued to fuck him.
“Lean back, it’ll feel so good, I promise.”
Sam’s huge hand ran down Sammy’s chest and he circled the boy’s cock with his thumb and forefinger as the rest of his hand cupped his straining balls. Sammy groaned loudly as Sam squeezed, bringing him back from the precipice of orgasm as he let Dean’s dick slide up even deeper into Sammy’s hole.
“Fuck, Sam, so fuckin’ deep…” Dean groaned, his back arching and his hips fucking up into Sammy in a punishing rhythm.
“That’s it, Dean. He fucking loves this. He’s not fragile. Fuck him like you fuck me. Fuck him like you mean it,” Sam said as he pulled his hand away, licking Sammy’s precome from his fingertips. Dean could feel Sam’s hips rocking in counter to his rhythm and pictured his thick cock nestled into the sweaty dip of Sammy’s lower back.
Sammy’s hands were tangled in Sam’s hair as his head lolled back against his shoulder. His mouth hung open slack and his cock slapped wetly against his flat stomach as Dean’s dick hollowed him out.
“Moreeee…” Sammy whined as he gave in to sensation. “Please, fuck, I want you both.” Sammy’s voice was thick with desperation as he writhed between them, hips desperately trying to find the right angle he needed to come. "Make me take it, Sam. Make me take you both, God pleaseeee…"
Sammy’s words made Dean cry out and for a moment he saw stars behind his eyelids before a sharp, swift blow brought him back to reality.
“Don’t come yet, Dean,” Sam barked, slapping the back of Dean’s thigh again, making his skin sing with pain.
“We can’t fit, Sam. Jesus Christ, it’s his first time,” Dean panted, his hips stuttering from the interruption but not stopping.
“Sammy’s never had dick before, Dean, but his hole isn’t untouched, is it Sammy?”
“God, fuck no,” Sammy gasped as he looked down at Dean, sucking at his lips. “Use my fingers all the time, can almost get my whole hand inside. Bought a – ah fuck,” Sam whimpered as he writhed on Dean’s dick. “Bought a dildo, thicker than me. ‘S so good, but not as good as your cock.”
Sammy slid two fingers between his lips and suckled at them like it was summertime and they were a cherry Popsicle. It was lewd and fucking delicious and Dean had to look away to keep his composure. Sammy leaned forward again and ran the spit-slicked tips of his fingers along his stretched out rim. Dean could feel Sammy’s fingers pressing into the base of his dick as he slid up a little, giving his hand room to press them more firmly against his entrance.
“Oh fuck, Sammy,” Dean gasped as the pressure on his cock intensified, Sammy’s fingers sliding up alongside it, the quick bite of Sammy’s fingernails against the hot, hard flesh of his dick.
“God, Dean, I wish you could fucking see…” Sam groaned, his hands dragging up over Sammy’s thighs, thumbs tugging his ass cheeks apart even wider for a better view. “He’s right though, Sammy. Don’t want to hurt you. Not sure you should take so much so fast.”
Despite Sam’s words Dean could feel the tip of his cock dragging over where he was impaling Sammy. The hot, slick head of Sam’s dick twitched and leaked against the small gap Sammy’s fingers created next to Dean’s cock.
Sammy’s face was flushed red, almost the same shade of crimson as the hoodie he was wearing when he first arrived. He fisted his dick and thrust his round little ass back against Sam, whimpering with need.
“Fuck, Dean he wants it so bad,” Sam groaned, the desperation in his voice made Dean ache. He wanted nothing more than to make both of his beautiful boys scream out his name in ecstasy.
“Please, I can take it. I can take it. Please!” Sammy’s fingers tugged at his rim, trying to stretch himself more, prove to them he could take everything they had to give and more.
“’S gonna hurt, Sammy,” Sam warned as he pressed the head of his dick against the back of his younger self’s fingers.
“Don’t care, fuck – FUCK,” Sammy whimpered, sweat dripping down his face. “Want it, need it.”
“Shh, I got you,” Sam whispered. Dean heard the click of the lube bottle again as Sammy slowed down, curling down over Dean’s body. His dick pressed hot and hard into Dean’s belly as he felt Sam’s thick, lubed up fingers replace the head of his cock at Sammy’s hole.
Dean’s dick was so hard it could cut diamonds and Sammy was already so tight around him that it almost fucking hurt but Sam pressed a slicked up finger in next to Sammy’s anyway. Dean grunted with the added pressure, wrapping his arms around Sammy who was sobbing against his neck, pleading for more.
Sam tugged at Sammy’s rim, Dean could imagine it stretched out thin and pale around all the flesh being shoved up inside. Sam worked slowly, pulling and spreading the slick for what seemed like an eternity before Dean felt his other finger tuck up next to it. Sammy cried out, it was almost more than most could take, Dean knew it had to burn like fucking crazy.
"Take your fingers out, baby," Sam whispered to Sammy as he continued working him open. "Take a deep breath and push, bear down on me while I put it in you. It’s gonna hurt. Tell me if it's too much..."
Dean could feel the tension in Sam’s body, he knew the power behind those hips, knew how hard Sam could fuck. He also knew how hard he liked to be fucked. What was between them was more violence than love, fucked up and desperate and always too much, too fast. Now baby Sammy is begging for them both, begging to be filled up, maybe even torn apart by the intensity of their need.
Dean tangled his fingers in the back of Sammy’s hair, he was sweating and whimpering against Dean, dying for it. He felt Sammy’s hand fall to his side, breathy moans pouring from his little brother’s lips.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck…” Sammy’s gasps only reach Dean’s ears but Sam was pushing forward, slipping his fingers out, making room for his lubed up cock.
Dean can feel the pop, Sammy’s hole snapping like a rubber band around the neck of Sam’s cock as the fat, slick head made it inside. Sammy cried out, failing to bite back the sound. Dean could hear Sammy’s pain melt into pleasure as Sam kept pushing in, felt the hot, wet spurt of Sammy’s come splashing up over his abs. Dean wrapped his hand around Sammy’s fist, helping him milk his cock for every last drop as Sam slid in deeper.
Dean could feel the veiny curve of Sam’s cock slotting in next to his, carving an even bigger space inside of Sammy than the one he already made. It was too much. Too tight, too intense, too fucking insane for Dean to handle it.
Dean heard the sounds coming out of his own throat as he lost control of his body. It only took a few agonizingly slow strokes of Sam’s cock next to his before his balls tightened up and dumped their load deep up inside Sammy, come erupting over the head of Sam’s cock and oozing out of Sammy’s gaping hole.
“Such a fucking good boy, Sammy,” Sam’s voice was like velvet as he thrust through the heat of Dean’s load. Dean’s cock twitched over and over as Sam’s slid hard and unrelenting against him. “So good for us. Isn’t he a good boy, Dean?”
Sam thrust in deep, burying himself to the hilt, throbbing hot and mercilessly hard against Dean’s erection that didn’t seem to have any interest in fading. Dean could feel Sam’s thighs flexing, feel his cock jerking in the incredibly tight space. Sam was coming too.
Sam stroked up and down Sammy’s sides as his orgasm rolled over him. The kid was still high on his orgasm, fucked out and loose, feeling too good for it to hurt yet. “He’s gonna be so sore, Dean,” Sam’s voice was almost gentle. “Gonna pull out.”
"So fucking good for us," Dean said, echoing Sam’s words of praise as he flipped them over once Sam had moved off of the bed. Sammy hissed as his hot, sweaty back made contact with the cool surface of the comforter. Dean slipped out of his brother as gently as he could, frowning as he saw Sammy wince.
Dean kissed a trail down his chest, lips sliding through cooling spurts of come as he crawled down to settle between his boy’s thighs. Dean almost gasped as he saw the bright pink, fucked-out mess of Sammy’s hole. Gaped so wide under all that come, trying to wink closed and shuddering with the effort. Dean pressed his palms to the back of Sammy’s thighs and slid to his stomach, blowing over Sammy’s ass.
Sammy groaned softly, gasping a little as Dean gave him a gentle, soft swipe of the tongue. Dean groaned too, the familiar, somehow comforting bitterness of come coating his tongue. He lapped at Sammy as gently as he could trying to soothe the angry flesh.
He could hear Sam kissing Sammy’s swollen lips, whispering soothing, sweet sentiments to his younger self that sounded like a foreign language to Dean’s ears. Sam must have known what Sammy needed to hear, soulless or not. Dean repressed the guilt and shame that came tugging at the corners of his mind and focused on cleaning up his baby boy. He just wanted to kiss Sammy’s burning, used hole until it was all better, clean up the mess and soothe his poor ragged rim with kitten licks and sweet kisses, but he found his tongue sliding deeper and deeper into Sammy’s willing body.
“Let him sleep,” Sam said softly, pushing Dean’s shoulder gently to pull him out of his Sammy-induced trance.
“Yeah, okay,” Dean mumbled as he stood, looking down at Sammy with pain clawing at the inside of his stomach. He was passed out, his arms draped loosely above his head with a look of peaceful bliss on his young face.
“What now?” Dean knew how lost his eyes must have looked as they met Sam’s.
“Get in bed with him, Dean. You need sleep too. I’ll research as much as I can, hopefully have an answer when you wake up.”
Dean didn’t remember falling asleep or even getting in bed next to his baby brother but when he woke up, mid-day sun was seeping under the edge of the shabby motel curtains and his heart was fluttering in his chest like he was being chased by a hellhound in his dreams.
Sam’s large, solid weight in the bed next to him was the only thing that kept him from shooting out of bed in a panicked, frantic search for his gun.
“Sammy’s gone, Dean,” Sam said softly, bringing his hand down over Dean’s shoulder in an effort to keep him in bed. Dean could still taste Sammy on his lips as he sat up, his eyes immediately drawn to the crumpled burgundy hoodie on the floor at the foot of his bed.
“What?” Dean sputtered, eyes searching Sam’s. Wait. It was Sam. His Sam.
“Sam? Are you? What the fuck? How?”
Sam’s smile was so beautiful it hurt. Sam still looked exactly as he had the night before, insanely ripped and tan, but his eyes were his own again, speckled gold and blue like they were glowing from within with the depth and beauty of some far-off galaxy. Sam was whole again. Sam had his soul.
Sam embraced Dean, pulling them down onto the bed again. Dean let the emotion come, it flowed over him in a huge wave, like a dam bursting in his chest. He kissed sloppily at Sam’s mouth but he was smiling too much for it to be more than a mash of lips and teeth. Tears spilled from Dean’s eyes and he sobbed softly into the side of Sam’s neck for what seemed like an eternity. Sam held Dean to his chest patiently, breathing deep and sighing contentedly as Dean pulled himself back.
“I don’t have any idea, honestly. I went to take a shower and when I came back Sammy was gone. I thought I dreamed it but his hoodie, my hoodie… I suddenly got really tired so I just got in bed with you.”
Sam ran his hands over Dean’s back. “I mean, I remember everything, Dean. From before. How I died. How you sold your soul for me. You going to hell. You coming back. Lucifer. The cage…” Sam’s breath caught in his throat for a moment and he squeezed Dean tighter. “I just… I don’t think any of it actually happened. It all feels like a book I read once, something like that…”
“How the fuck is that possible, Sam?” Dean shook his head but as the sleep faded from his mind he realized what Sam was telling him seemed to fit. It was all so far away… “Have you gone outside or looked at the internet or anything? What did we do…?”
“I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. I kept thinking I would wake up and it would all be a dream, or a dream within a dream, like fucking Inception or something,” Sam chuckled, raking his hand through his hair. “I was sort of hoping we could just stay here for a little while longer.”
“Your wish is granted, Sammy,” Dean kissed Sam’s forehead. Whatever cosmic rules they had broken, Dean knew his brother was worth it. They would figure it out. They always did.