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"Oh, man," Dean said, wiping tears away from his eyes. "This is too good."
"God, Dean, I ha—" Hate you, Sam thought, but that's the way this spell worked; he couldn't actually get anything out if it wasn't completely true. It just stalled in his throat.
He mashed his lips together in irritation and flopped back on the motel bed. "You know, a good brother wouldn't make this harder than it already is."
"Come on, Sammy," Dean said cheerfully. "Gotta have a sense of humor about these things! Now who was that girl you liked in, uh, what was it?" He snapped his fingers. "Arizona! When you were fifteen. The little blonde?"
"Macy Gibber," he said dully, studying the cracks in the ceiling paint.
"Yeah, that's the one. You always told me nothing happened between you two, but she was practically humping your leg every time she came over. She was pretty cute, too. So, come on, what really happened?"
"Nothing happened," Sam said. God, that was a million years ago, but he still felt a weird twinge of regret admitting it. At fifteen he kind of liked the fact Dean just assumed he was smooth enough to hook up with Macy, enough that he heckled him about it an entire summer. "We were just friends."
Dean gave a low whistle and took a pull from his beer. "Damn, you've been rocking this freaky monastic thing for a while now, huh? Was Jess the first?"
"Nope," Sam said. He smirked a little, not even waiting for the follow-up question; this one was actually a good story. "It was Lindsay Abtouche, freshman year. She lived on the girl's floor in my dorm. She liked to get tied up."
"No way!" Dean slapped the table, clearly enjoying this. "You little pervert. How come you never told me about it?"
Sam hitched up on his elbows and gave Dean an irritated look.
"Because this is weird, dude. Not everyone likes to share the details of their sexual history."
"Well, you better learn to love it, because otherwise it's gonna be a long..." Dean made a big, flourishing gesture out of checking his watch. "Ten hours. So, tying girls up. You into any other kinky extracurriculars?"
"N—" Sam paused, startled. The word wouldn't quite come out, which meant it wasn't true. He racked his brain, trying to think of any other weird sex he'd had. Lindsay and her neckties were really the watershed moment in his sex life. Jess had made out with a girl in front of him once, but that wasn't really kinky. "Define 'into'."
"Into," Dean said, waving vaguely with his beer bottle. "You know. What kind of weird stuff goes on in that big dolphin brain when you're beatin' it? Naughty nurses? Furry handcuffs? Getting whipped by some chick in latex? What's your big, weird sex hang-up? And I know all about the girl-on-girl thing, so fast-forward to the good stuff."
For some reason Sam wasn't expecting that one – not even Dean could be cruel enough to go there. It was too personal to even ask, and the truth was too horrifying to think about.
No, he thought desperately, slamming a hand over his mouth, no no no no no—
"You."
It was only barely muffled by his hand, like the word was forcing its way out of his mouth no matter what.
"Excuse me?" Dean said.
"You," Sam repeated miserably, dropping his hand and collapsing back on the bed. "Now can you please stop asking questions?"
There was silence for a second, and Sam could practically see the confused look on Dean's face. God, this wasn't happening.
"Whoa, whoa, wait. What are you talking about? Me, like – me?"
"You like you, Dean," he said.
"What about me?"
"You on top of me." Sam swallowed, willing it to stop, but the words just kept tumbling out. "You holding me down."
"What else?"
"You — I think about you letting me suck you off. Telling me to swallow. And you—" His voice cracked a little, but didn't stop. "Rolling me over. Opening me up and fucking me, and telling me that it's better than with all the girls you hook up with."
"Seriously," Dean said. His tone was indiscernible; it sounded kind of interested, kind of amused, and kind of skeptical. "That's what gets you hot and bothered."
"Yeah, that's pretty much the go-to," Sam said flatly. "You asked."
"You ever think about us kissing?"
Yeah, that tone was definitely amusement. Sam was going to have to kill Dean, or himself, or the both of them.
"Yes."
"Am I any good?"
Sam's fingers made fists against the shabby bedspread. "Yep."
Dean fell silent again, long enough for Sam to work up the nerve to sit up and look at him. He looked — kind of pensive, actually, just staring down at his beer.
He met Sam's gaze and raised his eyebrows when he asked the next question.
"Do you actually want that to happen?"
Sam clenched his jaw. "Yes."
The corners of Dean's mouth pulled down thoughtfully, and for a second Sam figured that was it, Dean was gone. His life was ruined. Apocalypse be damned, this was way too much for anyone to pretend they didn't hear.
Instead, Dean stood up, shrugged off his open button-down shirt, and said, "Lay down."
"What?" Sam said.
Dean wadded up his shirt and threw it at Sam's face.
"You heard me. Lay down."
Before Sam had time to process that, Dean was on the bed with him, straddling his hips and shoving Sam's shoulders down.
"Dean – dude, stop—" Sam struggled, but his height advantage wasn't doing him much good in this position. Dean had him pinned, and just perked his eyebrows.
"What, are we doing some kind of rapey role play in these fantasies, too? Let's take this one step at a time, Romeo."
"What are you doing?" Sam snapped.
"What's it look like?"
Dean braced an arm across Sam's chest, tilted his head in something like a shrug, and pressed their mouths together.
It was messy at first, more like getting mouth-to-mouth than an actual kiss. Sam's body was still tense, reeling from humiliation and shock and disbelief, but Dean didn't pull back. He just stayed there, making it happen, and it was – good. It was pretty much exactly the way Sam imagined it, down to the scrape of stubble rough on his chin. Dean's tongue was hot and insistent, pushing at Sam's lips until he went slack enough to let him slide it in.
He didn't know if this was Dean's idea of scaring him straight, or what, but he could already feel his cock thickening in his boxers. Dean could apparently feel it, too, because he shifted his hips, grinding down on Sam's until they were both half-hard.
"This is what you wanted, huh?" Dean said, pulling back just enough Sam could look him in the eye.
"Yeah," Sam said hoarsely.
Dean eased back on his knees and gripped at his own cock through his jeans. Sam had seen him pop boners before when they were younger – even in junior high Dean wasn't the type to get bashful about that kind of thing – but this was totally different. He was hard, so hard it was pressing out the fly of his jeans, and he was staring at Sam.
"And you wanna suck on this?" Dean said.
A wave of arousal hit Sam so hard he almost shivered, his own cock throbbing where it was trapped against his hip.
"Yeah."
Dean popped the button open with his thumb and shoved down the zipper, and Sam could see it – the pink head of his cock jutting up past the elastic of his boxer-briefs. Dean kept his gaze on him as he palmed at it, rubbing it lazily through the cotton.
"How long have you wanted to do this?" he finally said, his voice gravelly.
"Years," Sam said, not even trying to stop the inevitable flood of words. "Since I was fourteen. I used to watch you make out with girls sometimes, when you thought I was working on homework, and I – I started thinking about it."
"Damn, Sammy," he muttered. He hooked his thumb under the waistband and tugged his cock out, letting it slap up against his stomach.
Sam just stared at it, his breaths coming fast and hard. It was worse than craving demon blood, he was pretty sure – he wanted this so badly, wanted to get his mouth on it and suck until Dean shot a load right down his throat.
"Well, here's your chance," Dean said, aiming for levity but faltering a little.
"Are you sure?" Sam said. "You don't have to do this, Dean, if you don't want to. I'm used to being a freak. You don't—"
"God, no wonder you were a virgin till college," Dean said. "Just fucking do it, Sam."
Sam couldn't hold back a little groan when he gripped it, jacking it in a nice, deep pump. It was hot to the touch, so hard the veins were standing up under the skin. Sam spared one last glance up at Dean – his eyes were shut, his head tilted back and his neck muscles strained – before leaning forward and catching the head with his mouth.
It was even hotter on his tongue. Salty at the slit and smooth, jumping a little in the ring of his lips when he gripped the base and bobbed lower.
"Sam," Dean muttered.
Sam shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to look up at his face and see something that might make him hesitate. He pushed himself lower, flushing at the obscenely wet noise of his mouth slurping around it. It was bigger than he expected, straining his jaw, but he barely even noticed.
"God, yeah," Dean said, twisting his fingers through his hair. Sam eased back, giving the head of his cock a hard little suck and almost blowing his own load when Dean groaned in response. "You really like that, huh?"
Sam squeezed his fist around it when he pulled off, finally turning his gaze up at Dean. He looked wrecked, his cheeks flushed and his eyes heavy-lidded.
"Yeah," Sam said honestly, snapping his wrist in deep, hard jerks. Dean caught his bottom lip with his teeth. "You have no idea."
"You want me to fuck you? You wanna feel it in you nice and deep?"
"Yeah," Sam panted. That was all he wanted. "Yeah, Dean, please—"
"Easy, kiddo," Dean said. He reached down to cover Sam's hand with his, dragging the tip of his cock back and forth across Sam's lips. "We got plenty of time. First you gotta swallow this load."
Sam swallowed instinctively, just trying to get rid of some of the spit flooding his mouth at the thought. He'd imagined this so many times, so many ways. He was practically shaking when he opened his mouth and let Dean just stick it right in, gripping his hair with one hand and guiding his cock in with the other.
"That's it," Dean said. "God, I can't believe you've been wantin' this so long. We could've been doing this for years."
If Sam had any restraint before, it was gone now.
He leaned forward, sliding his mouth down as far as he could and then back up, moving in quick, hungry pulls. He could feel the weight of Dean's balls moving as his hips jerked a little, moving in time with Sam's sucks. He was going to blow soon, Sam could tell, and he was going to take all of it.
"Fuck," Dean continued, his voice getting lower, cut through with sharp breaths, "if I knew you wanted it that long, I would've taken your v-card myself."
Sam groaned, fumbling his free hand down to grip at his own cock. The idea that Dean back then, knee-deep in girls, would have fucked him – would have wanted it – God, his brain was going to short-circuit. He rubbed the head of his dick through the denim, grinding it with the heel of his hand as he hollowed his cheeks around Dean's.
"Yeah, keep suckin' it," Dean muttered, "I'm gonna – aw, yeah, I'm gonna come. You ready?"
Sam couldn't even pull back long enough to say anything, he just mumbled an uh-huh around the fat length of it, his whole body burning with excitement. He gave the base a tight squeeze as he bobbed, and Dean groaned – yes, yes, it was happening – his fingers tightening in Sam's hair and his hips jerking to shove it in a little deeper.
Sam shut his eyes again as the first spurt hit the roof of his mouth, jacking Dean through each one. It was more than he expected, hot and thick and bitter on his tongue, and he moaned a little as he swallowed it down. His whole body throbbed just thinking about Dean's load actually being inside him, sitting all warmly in his stomach.
He licked at the slit as the last of it oozed out, messing at it with his tongue until Dean made a ragged noise and loosened his grip on Sam's hair.
"Did you like that, Sammy?"
Dean's voice was heavy, his chest heaving with the force of his breaths, but he was clearly in this to win it.
"Yeah," Sam said, finally leaning back. He didn't even bother wiping at the mess of spit and precome on his chin, he just rubbed at his aching cock and looked up at Dean. "I loved it."
Dean grinned a little, his eyebrows arching as he reached down to tug Sam's jeans open.
"That's why it always pays to tell the truth."