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Sam shut the motel door with a relieved sigh. After a case, Dean had decided to hit a bar, leaving Sam blissfully alone. He desperately needed this time to himself—specifically, time to jerk off. Weeks had passed since he'd had a moment to touch himself, and he could feel the tension coiling tighter in his body with each passing day.
He collapsed onto the bed and wasted no time yanking off his jeans and belt, tossing them in a heap on the floor. His hand drifted slowly down into his boxers, fingers finding the slick lips of his vagina. The first touch drew a deep sigh from his throat.
He traced teasingly over his lips, deciding to savor this—to draw it out despite his body's desperate ache for quick relief. When he felt himself growing wetter in anticipation, he realized he didn't want to soak his boxers.
He stripped them off and added them to the pile of clothes before sliding his fingers over his hard, needy clit. An involuntary gasp escaped him, his hips bucking eagerly toward the touch as he began circling his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves, soft whimpers spilling from his lips.
He bit his lip as he dipped lower, prodding his index finger against his soaked entrance. He slipped it in carefully, then curled his finger, searching.
He knew he'd found his sweet spot when a moan tore from his throat. He added another finger, pumping them in and out while curling them at that perfect angle, whimpering as his free hand clutched desperately at the pillow behind him.
He was so lost in the sensation that he didn't hear the doorknob rattle.
"Sam, do you have— Oh." Dean's eyes went wide as he walked into the room, confronted with the sight of his brother knuckle-deep in his own glistening hole.
Sam gasped—part shock, part frustration—as he yanked his fingers out to grab a sheet in a futile attempt at modesty.
"I can uh— I can come back, you know, I uh—"
Sam watched Dean's fingers reach for the door handle, and something snapped inside him. Maybe sexual frustration had driven him insane, but he needed Dean.
"No, wait. Stay. Please." The words tumbled out, making Dean's head whip around in confusion.
"What?"
"I need—" Sam cut himself off, his gaze dropping to Dean's thick fingers with obvious want.
"Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure, Sammy." Dean didn't need words to understand what Sam was asking for. "I got you. I'll take care of you."
Dean approached the bed and gently pulled the sheet away from Sam.
"I'll take care of you, Sammy." His voice was soft, careful, as if Sam might bolt at any moment. His fingers ghosted over Sam's slick lips.
Sam whimpered and bucked his hips forward, need overpowering any trace of rational thought.
"So wet for me, Sam. You must be real needy, huh? Need your big brother to fingerfuck you until you're satisfied?" Dean's tone remained gentle, but his filthy words sent shivers racing up Sam's spine as he rubbed slow circles over Sam's clit.
Sam would be lying if he said Dean's words didn't turn him on immensely. He nodded frantically, huffing with desperate need.
"Yeah? Open your legs for me, Sammy."
He couldn't help but obey, craving Dean's thick fingers inside him. He found himself wondering how Dean's cock would feel, wishing he'd paid more attention to it in the past.
"That's it, Sammy. Open up for me." Dean's fingers began pressing into Sam's entrance, and Sam gasped low, gripping the bedsheet. "You can take it, see? There you go."
Dean held still for a few moments, but just as Sam was about to complain and beg him to move, Dean curled his fingers—sending electricity shooting up Sam's spine and a whimper tumbling from his mouth.
"Sound so good for me. You whimper so pretty, Sammy." Dean cooed, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out, curling them against that same devastating spot.
Sam's jaw fell open as pants and moans poured out. He could barely form words beyond "Dean," "Fuck," and "Please," his mind consumed by the thick stretch of Dean's fingers inside him.
"That feels real good, doesn't it? You like my fingers in you?"
"Yes, please," Sam whined, his hand shooting up to clutch Dean's bicep. "More, need more."
"So greedy for my fingers—you just swallow them right up. You're so needy for me. Lucky I love you." Dean teased as he worked a third finger in, focusing his efforts on hitting that spot that made Sam shake.
Sam moaned louder than he had in months. He'd always tried to stay quiet, but Dean seemed to know his body better than he knew it himself.
"Dean." He could feel his release building, so he mustered the strength to tug on Dean's shirt. "Need you. Need you to fuck me. Now. Please."
"You sure, Sam?" Dean's eyes flicked up to meet his, fingers slowing their rhythm.
"I'm sure. Just fuck me already." Sam's huff came out more like a whine.
Dean didn't need to be told twice. He slipped his fingers free and shoved his jeans and boxers down eagerly, not bothering to remove them completely. He slicked his cock with Sam's wetness—once, twice, three times—before placing careful hands on Sam's hips.
"If anything's wrong, you tell me, alright? Promise me."
"Yes, I'll tell you. Just please, Dean."
Dean nodded and pressed a tender kiss to Sam's forehead before carefully pushing inside. He brought his lips down to Sam's, swallowing the moan that spilled from Sam's throat.
As soon as he bottomed out, he pulled back to look at Sam. No words were needed—Sam just nodded to show he was ready.
Dean began thrusting slowly, Sam gasping and clutching at his shoulders.
"Fuck, Dean, so big." Sam groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he panted with each thrust.
"I know, and you're taking it so good, aren't you?" Dean murmured against Sam's ear. If Sam weren't so occupied, he'd give Dean hell for being so cocky.
"Wanna see you." Sam grasped at Dean's shirt, trying to tug it off. "Take it off."
"So bossy." Dean rolled his eyes with no real bite before straightening up to pull his shirt over his head. "Your turn."
Sam blinked up at Dean for a second before deciding, clumsily yanking his own shirt off. He caught Dean staring at his chest and knew why—Sam hadn't worn his binder today.
"So handsome," Dean breathed in awe, ducking down to lick and suckle at Sam's right nipple. Sam gasped, threading his fingers through Dean's hair.
"Feels— that feels weird."
"Good weird or bad weird?" Dean lifted his head.
"Good weird. Definitely good weird."
Dean grinned and returned his attention to Sam's left nipple. He'd gotten so distracted that he'd stopped thrusting entirely. He only realized when Sam made an impatient sound, resuming his rhythm with an apologetic grin.
"Sorry, Sammy. Couldn't help myself."
With each thrust, he brought his fingers up to pinch and twist Sam's nipples, drawing delicious whines from his throat.
"I'm almost there, Dee." Sam panted, eyelashes fluttering in a way that made him look utterly wrecked. "Touch my clit."
"Magic word?"
"Please." Sam whined, too far gone to care about Dean's stupid, smug grin. "Please, touch my clit."
"Good boy."
Dean brought his thumb down, rubbing circles over Sam's clit in time with his increasingly frantic thrusts—a sure sign Dean was close too.
"Want me to pull out?"
"No." Sam gasped, pulling Dean closer and burying his face in the crook of his neck. "Don't pull out. It'll be fine."
"That's so hot."
"Shut up, just— Oh, keep rubbing my clit like that."
Dean obeyed, kissing Sam's cheek as he maintained that perfect rhythm. Sam felt his legs begin to shake, and he bit down on Dean's collarbone.
"Gonna cum, Dee," Sam whined, his voice muffled against Dean's skin between his teeth.
"Yeah, cum for me, Sammy," Dean groaned, his breath hot and ragged. "Show your big brother how pretty you sound when you cum."
Sam's back arched sharply, toes curling as shockwaves of his orgasm crashed through him. He moaned against Dean's collarbone, his body trembling with release.
Dean followed moments later, the sounds of Sam's climax pushing him over the edge. He collapsed over Sam, both of them gasping for breath in the aftermath.
"Fuck," Dean finally managed, looking like he was about to pull away. But Sam's hand shot out, grabbing his arm.
"Don't. Stay." His voice was barely a whisper. "Wanna sleep like this."
Dean couldn't say no to that—he never could when it came to Sam. He wrapped his arm around his brother and pulled him closer, adjusting them into a more comfortable position for sleep. Whatever this meant for them, they could figure it out tomorrow. Tonight, they would simply bask in each other's presence before drifting off to sleep.