“Oh, god, Dea–”
The rest gets lost in Dean’s palm as he slaps his hand over Sam’s kiss-wet mouth and sinks himself in deep, listening for the sound of a door opening over their harsh breathing.
“Shh,” he whispers as he rocks his hips, opens Sam up around his cock with slow, steady thrusts, each one earning him a small, muffled sound of encouragement. “Gonna wake mom if you keep it up.”
It’s not an empty threat–she’s just a few doors down and sleeps lighter than either of them, seemingly still tuned to a time when she had to be listening out for cries on baby monitors and little boys sniffling over bad dreams. They’ve had a couple close calls already, underestimating how quietly she moves.
He can feel the vibration of Sam’s low, eager groan against his fingers as he pulls back far enough to really drive into him.
“Yeah, y’like that, don’tcha? When I gotta keep you quiet?” he says with a grin against Sam’s ear. “So close to gettin’ caught with your legs spread in big brother’s bed. S’just like old times.”
Even bulging with muscle and tall as he is, Sam still feels like Dean’s sweet sixteen secret when he’s tucked under him this way, pinned-down at the knees and panting open-mouthed against Dean’s hand, one too-loud cry away from disaster but too far gone to care.
“Thought dad was gonna catch us every time,” he says like a secret, pressing a kiss to the back of Sam’s neck. “Practically askin’ for it, screwin’ around right under his nose like we did. But y’took it so sweet–sweet, little Sammy, stuffed full of dick and bitin’ the pillow, gettin’ it balls-deep with dad in the next fuckin’ bed. God. Such a good boy for me.”
Sam clenches around him and whines the way he always does when Dean says the magic words.
“That’s it,” he groans, pulling Sam higher up on his knees, freeing his mouth to tangle a hand in his hair, pulling him into a kiss as he takes advantage of the position and picks up the pace. Sam’s whimpering against his mouth, reduced to breathy noises that might’ve been words if Dean would slow down enough to let him do more than gasp, fucking that tight, greedy hole better than he ever could’ve risked on the squeaky, old mattresses they’d had as kids. Thank god for memory foam. “Y’gonna be a good boy now? Gonna come all over yourself on my dick? Wanna feel you losin’ it before I fill you up.”
Sam nods frantically, choking back sounds behind bitten lips with Dean pounding him so hard that his knees are slipping up the sheets. His hands find the headboard, trying to brace himself against the onslaught, but they only succeed in creating a tell-tale knocking against the wall.
Dean grabs him by the shoulder and the hip and hauls him back to the center of the bed, hips snapping forward without missing a beat.
“Right there,” he murmurs, holding Sam down with one hand firm against his back. “Stay right there and take it for me, sweetheart.”
They really ought to stop, listen for footsteps down the hall, but it’s been too long since they’ve had this, hyper-aware of mom’s watchful eyes on them. So now that Sam’s finally spread wide and desperate under him, they’re just going to have to rely on the soundproofing of the thick walls of the bunker, because there’s no way Dean’s stopping until they’re both sticky, sore, and wrung-out enough to last until the next time they get the chance.
“So close,” Sam breathes between clenched teeth, but when Dean slips his hand down around his hip to get him there, Sam stops it with one of his own. He shakes his head and presses Dean’s hand against his stomach, slick where he’s been leaking against it. “Wanna come just from this.”
“C’mon then,” he says, shifting so that he’s at just the right angle to hit the spot, making Sam drip against his fingers each time Dean presses back inside of him. “Come real quiet like y’used to.”
It’s not long before Sam is burying his face into the sheets with a sharp gasp as he spills over the backs of Dean’s fingers and the sheets, body tight and trembling. Dean fucks him through it, rhythm stuttering, before finally coming when Sam goes loose-limbed and pliant under him with a satisfied sigh.
Sam’s body is reluctant to let him go as he pulls out, slow enough that he can watch that puffy, sore-pink hole clenching around the empty space he leaves behind. Sam groans weakly when Dean plugs it with two fingers to the second knuckle, arching back into his hand. Caught inside the sticky, warm grip of him, Dean thinks that soon, he and Sam are going to have to find an excuse–any excuse–for a day trip. He wants nothing more than to drive somewhere just far enough to put some miles on the car and stay for long enough that he can hear the way Sam sounds as Dean fucks the come back inside him for round two, moaning his name loud enough to have the neighbors making noise complaints.
Sam turns and wraps an arm around Dean’s waist, pulls him down so Sam can settle with his flushed cheek on Dean’s stomach, fingers running idly over his hip as they catch their breath.
“Next time, I’m gonna suck you,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss to the head of Dean’s cock. Dean grunts as, even so recently well-used, his dick tries to give an interested twitch at the promise. Sam’s lips curl up into a smirk. “Then we’ll see who needs to keep quiet.”
It’s really not a question of if, but when mom will be looking at them across the breakfast table with the same fearful curiosity in her eyes that Dean remembers seeing in dad’s.