Six Months TBGC

Author: Pissed Off Eskimo (Randi Shane)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 2,634
Warning: filthy language
Summary: Follow up to Bruises.  It's been six months.

Six Months

Six months.  Six fucking months they’d been on the road and nothing.  Dean looked over at Sam, asleep with his head against the passenger window and scowled.  How the hell could Sam possibly sleep when he hadn’t had sex in six months?  Dean couldn’t sleep when he hadn’t had sex in six days.  Of course, as annoyed as he was, he wasn’t going to wake Sam up, because the nightmares had just started to reach that manageable level that meant Sam was getting more than two hours sleep a night.

Sam shifted in the seat, his freakishly long legs trying to curl in on him.   The glove compartment stopped them with a loud clunk, but Sam didn’t wake up.  Dean sighed and looked back at the road, still scowling.  Movement meant Sam would wake up in about five minutes, startled by yet another nightmare.  Of course, first he’d talk in his sleep, which was awkward and embarrassing and Dean would never, ever tell Sam about it.  Not until he really needed the leverage, anyway.

Sam’s breathing sped up, just a fraction, but Dean noticed, because he was listening for it.  Any minute now, Sam would start moaning for Jess in that pitiful, complaintive whine, like he was begging her not to die again, not to leave him.  Dean steeled himself for the guilt of hearing that voice and remembering how, just for a second, he’d been glad to see her pinned up there, burning.  He’d thought, in that moment, ‘Sam’s mine,’ and it had been gone as soon as it formed, replaced with horror that it had ever been there, but he couldn’t forget it and it hurt every time he had to listen to Sam calling for her.

He heard a hitch in Sam’s breathing and clenched his teeth.

“Dean.”  Surprise made the tension leave his body like water from an upturned cup and his hands started to slip from the steering wheel before he realized what he was doing.  Remembering himself, he grip the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.  Then Sam moaned.   Not the customary moan of despair that Dean had become so familiar with, but the kind of moan that would have made a porn star blush.

Unable to stop himself, Dean looked over and eyed the distinct bulge in Sam’s jeans.  Sam shifted lower in the seat, a hand unconsciously moving to rub over the erection.  Dean watched, transfixed as Sam’s head fell back against the seat and his mouth opened to elicit another one of those deep throated moans and...

A horn blared and Dean managed to brake and swerve, just in time to avoid hitting a car he hadn’t realized he was coming up on.  Sam jerked forward, saved from hitting the dash by the seatbelt that cut into his chest.  Dean waved an apology at the guy who was flicking them off in his rear view and Sam held a hand over his chest, groaning, “What the fuck, Dean?”

Dean shifted in his seat, keenly aware that despite nearly having crashed his baby at over 80 miles an hour, he was still achingly hard.  “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”  Sam adjusted the seat belt, loosening it so he was no longer plastered to the seat.  “Nothing doesn’t make you crash the car, Dean.”

“I didn’t crash the car.”

“Just about.”  Sam rubbed his chest.   “Dude, I’m gonna bruise.”

Dean glared, because it was either that or stare at the way Sam’s hand was brushing casually against his own nipple.  “Stop being such a baby.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Sam still quite obviously fuming, which so wasn’t fair, because the entire ‘almost wrecking the car’ thing was Sam’s fault.  Dean gave Sam a sideways glance and a wicked smile crept onto his face.  “So, another nightmare?”

Sam’s head twitched, like he’d just managed to stop himself from jerking it around.  Turn about was definitely fair play and a hell of a lot of fun to boot.  Instead of answering, Sam opened the glove box and grabbed the map, looking it over in confusion for several moments before realizing it was upside down.  Finally righting it, he cleared his throat, “Where are we?”

Dean’s grin widened and he had to take one hand from the wheel to wipe the smile from his face before Sam noticed.  “An hour outside of Wisconsin.  You were making some pretty interested noises back there.”

“Noises?”And Sam’s voice was just so perfect when it squeaked like that.

Shrugging, Dean kept his eyes on the road, because he knew he’d break out laughing if he looked over at Sam right then.  “Yeah, sounded like you were, I dunno, in pain or something.”

“Whatever.”  Which was Sam’s way of saying ‘nothing’ and he wasn’t letting that slide.

“Whatever?  ‘Whatever’ doesn’t make you grope yourself in the middle of the night.”

Sam’s fists clenched, crinkling the map and Dean did look over then.   He couldn’t make out Sam’s face with that mop of hair in the way, but his neck and ears were bright fucking pink.

“What, Sammy, nothing to say to that?”

“Shut up.” Was the only response he got and that was mumbled.

“No, come on, you wanted to talk, so let’s talk.  Any particular reason you were calling out my name?  Anything you were thinking about doing to me? Or me doing to you?”  The pink was quickly becoming red and Dean pressed on.  “‘Cause I gotta say, I was getting worried there.  Not to say I don’t understand, I mean, it takes time, right?  But a man’s still a man and you’ve been acting like a fucking Catholic priest.”  He stopped himself and chuckled, “Or maybe not, all things considered.”

Sam looked over then, wide eyed.  “Oh, come on, Dean, not even you need to go there.”

“Apparently, I do.”

“My love life is my business.”

“We’re not talking love, Sam, we’re talking sex.  As in, you need to get some before you have another wet dream that drives me off the side of the road.”

“Dude!”

“What?  I’m not that one rubbing myself up and moaning like a whore in my sleep.”

Sam finally managed to turn his head away, looking out the window, his jaw set in determination not to respond to any more of Dean’s prodding.  He didn’t have to, though, the telltale bulge in Sam’s pants was enough to tell Dean everything he needed to know.

Dean pulled off to the side of the road, following a small, gravel drive as it ran behind a line of trees.  It probably led to a house, but this late at night, the chances of anyone coming up on them were slim.  Besides, they wouldn’t be there too long, not with what Dean had in mind.  Sam squirmed in his seat, giving Dean one of those sidelong, apprehensive looks.

Putting the car into park, Dean cut off the engine and turned half around.   “So, Sammy, what were you dreaming about?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably, “Dean...”

Dean cut him off with a grin, “No, Sammy, you owe yourself this.  Six months of self imposed celibacy and I’ve seen the looks you’ve given those girls I sleep with.  So, tell me, Sammy, what were you dreaming about?”

Softly, Sam said, “You.”

“Me.”  Dean shucked his over shirt, tossing it in the back.  “What was I doing?”

Sam’s hair was in his face again, but his neck was bright pink.  “Touching me?”

“You sure about that?”  Dean reached forward and put his hand on Sam’s upper thigh, squeezing and Sam moaned softly.  “Where was I touching you, Sam?”

Sam’s head fell back against the seat as Dean’s hand moved higher on Sam’s leg, his thumb brushing against the jean covered head of Sam’s cock.   “Dean.”

“Where was I touching you?”

“Mm.”  Sam’s voice went high as Dean’s hand moved down towards his knee, “You know where.”

It’s just that side of desperate, the good kind of desperate that makes Dean’s own dick give a happy twitch.  Leaning forward, Dean breathes into the side of Sam’s neck, just below his ear.  “Tell me anyway.”

“My... co... cock.”  The word hitches as Dean’s hand moves back up and grasps the thick length.

“Like that?”

“Uh hu.  Only, harder.”   Dean squeezed harder and Sam shifted lower in the seat, like he’d done in his sleep and he hissed a little when his knees hit the glove box.  Well, that was just what he got for having those stupidly long legs.

Biting Sam’s ear, Dean smiled, “I want to fuck you, Sam.  I want you on your hands and knees and then I want to fuck you.”  He punctuated the last two words by squeezing Sam’s cock and it was reward enough, the way Sam’s mouth fell open to gasp air and he pressed up into Dean’s palm.

“Please.”

“Please what, Sam?”  He knew it drove Sam wild when Dean said his name like that, all breathy and heavy with lust, deep from the back of his throat and wild was just what Dean wanted right now.  He remembered vividly the last time they’d had sex and he’d threatened to show Sam how it was done and Sam had said ‘later.’  Well, it was sure as hell later and Dean thought now was as good a time as any for a lesson.  Lesson number one: make them beg.

“Please, fuck me.”

Dean tugged at Sam’s jeans, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper so he could get his hand inside, feel the hot, hard, fleshy length of cock against his fingers.  “‘Please, fuck me’, what?”

Sam opened his eyes, half lidded with lust as well as annoyance.  “Please, fuck me, asshole.”

Dean chuckled and rubbed harder, “Fair enough.”

Lesson number two: get naked, because naked was good.  It took him a few minutes to get Sam’s pants off, mostly because Sam was so disgruntled at having the hand removed from his pants that he didn’t realize what Dean was trying to do.  Dean congratulated himself on having turned the heater up so high that Sam had shucked his jacket before going to sleep, because the boy already wore like fourteen fucking layers of clothes and Dean really, really needed to see him naked.

When the two shirts had been pulled off and discarded into the backseat, Dean sat back, just for a second, and admired the view.  That was lesson three: enjoy it while you had it and that was a lesson that Dean knew pretty fucking well.  He had Sam now, didn’t know for how long, or even if this would ever happen again, so he took that moment to just soak it in - the tan skin, stretched tight over the defined muscles of his chest, the hard ripples of the abdomen, the deep V of Sam’s hips, the hard length of his brother’s cock, jutting up from between toned thighs and the soft hair that covered those legs, growing a little thicker and darker on the calves.

He took it all in, down and then back up again.  This was his - by default, maybe, and only for now, sure, but his.   Leaning in, he slowly kissed Sam, drawing it out with tongue and teeth until Sam was breathless and flushed and groping at Dean’s pants, trying to get them undone and off.

Pulling back, Dean smiled and made a motion with his head.  “Get up and turn around.”

“Huh?”

Lesson number four: take control back before you lose it and he was really close to losing it.  If he wasn’t careful, he’d be begging Sam to say he’d stay and Sam would say it, too, because in the throws of passion, Sam would say just about anything.  Then, because Sam didn’t break promises, he would stay, but he’d resent it and Dean wasn’t about to let things get that far.  This was sex, this was release of tension and that was all.  That was enough.

Sam shifted around, until he was on his hands and knees, ass presented to Dean and Dean was practically salivated over it.  Oh, god, it had been far, far too long since he’d seen Sam this way.  “Dean?”

Reflexively, he slapped Sam’s hip, “Shut up, I’m enjoying the view.”

“Jerk.”

Dean curled his hand around Sam’s hip and wrapped it around Sam’s cock.   Control, don’t lose control.  “What was that?”

“Fuck, nothing, just... god, please, Dean, fuck me.”

“That’s my boy.”  Lubricant was in the glove compartment near Sam’s head and that was too far away, so Dean leaned forward and did the next best thing.

“Oh, god.”  Sam’s voice went several octaves higher as Dean’s tongue wormed its way into his ass, then dropped into a deep moan as the surprise turned into, “Fuck, Dean, god, please, please, oh god, feels... feels... oh, fuck.”

He pushed a finger in, tracing around its edge with his tongue, enjoying the nonsensical babbling that fell from Sam’s lips like worship.  “Fu... oh, god, more, Dean, harder.”  Adding a second finger, he moved them in and out, fucking Sam with them, listening to the litany of cursing and ‘oh god’ that made him feel just that much more in control of the situation.

“Dean, now, please.  Dean...” Dean moved the fingers in, angling them to brush against Sam’s prostrate and grinning when Sam broke down in, “oh, fuck, oh god, Dean just fuck me, already.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”  Withdrawing the fingers, Dean spat generously on his hand, coating his cock.  There was resistance at first, but nothing more than one would expect from someone who hadn’t done this in probably a few years.  Sam’s whole body shuddered as the resistance gave way and Dean slid in, eased by nothing more than spit and need and that was more than enough.

Neither of them were going to last long.  Sam, because it’d been six months and Dean, because... well, because it was Sam.  It took five thrusts and a few strokes of his hand to make Sam cum, splattering all over the upholstery and three thrusts later, Dean followed, not bothering to pull out, mostly because he was too caught up in how fucking good it felt and how much he’d wanted this for so long.

They didn’t move for a while after, Dean hunched over Sam and Sam with his elbows on the seat, panting into the leather.  Finally, Dean’s leg started to cramp and he lifted an arm, lazily slapping the side of Sam’s thigh.  “Good boy.”

Sam gave a half chuckle and swatted back at him as Dean pulled away, slipping out of Sam’s ass with a wet noise.  “Shut up.”

It was several more minutes before they were both dressed and even then, neither of them particular wanted to move more than strictly necessary, so Dean didn’t bother to do more than turn the car back on so they had heat.  Sam sighed and looked out at the dark little road, surrounded by trees.   “Dean, I can’t...  this can’t be anything more than what it is.”

“I know, Sammy.”  He did know, too, had always known, because they’d been through this before and to Dean, it just sounded like a broken record.  What they did wasn’t about love, or a relationship, it was about need and comfort and getting off when there wasn’t anyone else around.  Dean fucked whoever else he wanted and Sam got stupid crushes on silly girls, because this was just sex.

“So, we’re cool, then?  With this going back to the way it was?”

No.  “Yeah.  We’re cool.”

“Good.”  And Dean thought it was pretty ironic that it was Mr. Commitment smiling that lazy, pleased smile and it was Mr. One Night Stand who felt like his fucking heart was being ripped in two.

-finis-

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