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The first moments after Death literally crumbled to the floor, the only sound filling the abandoned diner was Dean’s laboured breathing. Sam’s eyes darted between Dean’s face and the scythe still in his hands.
“Dean,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse and shaky. He shifted on his knees, coming closer to Dean, but making no move to get up. Dean looked at him, eyes wide and frightened, still shaken up over his own actions
“Dean,” Sam said again and reached out to him. He reached the hem of Dean’s shirt and grabbed tight on it, trying to snap Dean out of it.
“Sammy,” Dean breathed out and put the scythe down with a clang that made Sam flinch. Dean reached out with shaking hands, one hand tangling in Sam’s hair, the other grabbing the side of Sam’s face, his thumb stroking over his stubbled cheek.
“It’s okay, Sam. It’s okay. We’re okay. I can’t do it. I could never do it. Never. I’ve got you, yeah?” His voice was feverish, words coming out of his mouth in a heated murmur. He was closer to Sam with every word, until he was right there and Sam pressed his forehead to Dean’s jeans clad hip.
Dean’s hands threaded through Sam’s hair, petting him affectionately for a few seconds, running his fingers over Sam’s scalp. Then he gripped the strands tight and pulled Sam’s head away from him, so he could look him in the face.
Sam made a noise that was half a whimper, half a whine and looked up at Dean with his teary, red eyes, fresh tears making tear tracks down his cheeks. His fingers tightened on Dean’s shirt, pulling at him, until Dean realised Sam was trying to pull him even closer.
“I’ve got you,” Dean said again, trying to convince himself as much as Sam.
“Please,” Sam choked out, then immediately bit down on his lip, embarrassed. He didn’t even know what he was asking for. The adrenaline still rushing through his veins - following the fear of Death and all that - was making him feel light headed and unanchored, like he was about to float away if Dean wasn’t there to keep him grounded.
Something hot was starting to spread from somewhere deep in his core all over his body and Sam wanted to blame it on the adrenaline rush so bad, but the truth was probably something else, something he couldn’t get himself to name.
Dean’s fingers tightened in his hair and Sam squeezed his eyes shut at the pain, squirming from side to side on his knees. His hands, still gripping Dean’s shirt, lowered and came to rest in front of his crotch. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Dean and Sam could feel Dean’s gaze on him, traveling from his face down his body and back up.
Well, that’s interesting, Dean thought to himself. He found himself feeling curious, he wanted to see what Sam was thinking, feel what he was feeling, he wanted to pick him right apart and explore. He had a feeling this was the Mark talking, but there wasn’t enough willpower in the whole world to stop him from seeing where this would go.
He pulled harder on Sam’s hair, wrenching his head back until the long column of his throat was exposed. His Adam’s apple moved up and down when he swallowed and Dean suddenly had the biggest urge to follow the movement with his tongue. He’s not gonna do that, though.
“Dean, you gonna let me stand up?” Sam asked, voice strained.
“Hmm, not yet. I like you like this.”
Dean blinked, surprised at his own answer, but less surprised to realise it was the complete truth. There was something ugly rising in Dean’s chest, an emotion or a feeling he couldn’t name. It didn’t want to protect Sam, to keep him safe - it wanted to absolutely ruin him.
“Come on, let me up,” Sam said, voice coming out almost in a whimper and Dean realised that Sam was afraid. He frowned at that, fingers relaxing until he wasn’t pulling so harshly on Sam’s hair anymore, but he didn’t let go, keeping Sam’s head back so he could look directly into his brother’s eyes.
Sam wasn’t afraid of him. Or maybe, he was a little bit, Dean mused. But he was far more afraid of Dean seeing whatever he was trying and failing to hide with his hands.
“Sammy,” he breathed. “Are you hard right now?”
The blush that instantly spread over Sam’s face and down to his neck was a dead giveaway. As was the fact that he suddenly seemed unable to look Dean in the eyes, stubbornly staring to the side instead.
“I asked you a question,” Dean said. He gripped Sam’s hair tight again with one hand and brought the other to Sam’s throat, wrapping his fingers around it just below the cartilage of Sam’s Adam's apple.
“Fucking look at me, Sam.” Sam did, eyes welling up with fresh tears. “Are you hard?”
Dean couldn’t tell exactly when it happened, when was the moment that he wanted to see his little brother wrecked and crying instead of wanting to protect him, but it had happened and he couldn’t stop a pleased growl from escaping when Sam nodded.
“I’m so sorry, it must be the adrenaline, I- … I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry, just let me up and we can-“
Sam’s voice cut off mid sentence with a choked noise when Dean tightened his hand on Sam’s throat.
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with you.” Dean said conversationally, watching Sam’s eyes go wider by the second. “You’re on your knees in front of your big brother, getting your hair pulled and you’re fucking hard. I’d say that makes you fucked up, Sammy.”
Sam shook his head, trying in vain to pull away from Dean. He tried to push Dean’s hands away from him, but Dean was too strong. An effect of the Mark, Sam thought hysterically. Dean was choking him hard enough that black spots started affecting his vision and Sam thought that perhaps Dean changed his mind and was trying to kill him anyways.
“Stop,” Dean commanded. Sam froze when he felt Dean’s booted foot in between his thighs, the sole of the boot pressing against his still hard dick. Despite the danger this posed Sam felt himself twitch and his blush deepened in mortification.
That didn’t go unnoticed by Dean who smirked. Sam dropped his hands from Dean’s wrists back to his sides.
“Good.” Dean murmured. “That’s good. I’m going to let go of your throat now, don’t want you passing out on me. You’re going to be good, okay? You’ll stay right here. Yeah?”
Sam nodded.
Dean released his hold on Sam’s throat suddenly and Sam coughed as air rushed to fill his lungs. His arms and legs were tingling from the lack of oxygen, his vision still fuzzy for a few more seconds.
“That’s it, just breathe for me,” Dean said calmly, his hands back to petting Sam’s hair.
“See?” Dean continued. “See how easy it is? To just give in to what you want, Sam? Why would we deny ourselves? Why should we? After everything we’ve done for the world?”
Sam didn’t know what Dean was talking about at first until he realised that while he was busy sucking in air and coughing he started squirming and pushing his hips forward, grinding against Dean’s foot, just trying to get some friction on his achingly hard dick.
“No,” he cried out, horrified and disgusted with himself, yet unable to stop. He gripped Dean’s hips tightly, fingers curling over the hem of Dean’s jeans.
“Dean, no,” he repeated, voice shaking. “Please, make me stop.”
“Now why would I do that?” Dean asked softly. “You’re so beautiful like this. God, you should see yourself. You belong right here, on your knees.”
Dean pressed his foot down harder and Sam whimpered when pleasure was pierced through with a stab of pain.
“You look like a whore,” Dean continued. His voice was still deathly calm, but underneath it, Sam could hear a note of breathlessness, a proof that Dean was just as affected as he was. Sam realised that Dean was right, he probably did look like a whore. Here he was, kneeling on the filthy floor, his knees spread and rutting against Dean’s leg like a bitch in heat.
“No,” he denied anyways, because he had to, pressing his face into Dean’s hip to hide himself from Dean’s eyes. He realised he could smell Dean like this. He could smell Dean’s arousal and it made him even harder. He felt his dick jump, felt his insides clench down in desperation, felt like this was everything he ever wanted.
“See, Sammy? I’m fucked up too.” Dean said and Sam was too late to realise that Dean was opening his jeans with one hand and pulling Sam closer with the other hand until his face was pressed right against Dean’s rock hard cock, the light material of his boxer briefs over it doing nothing to hide the smell or the feel of his brother’s dick.
“I think I’ve always been fucked up, even before the Mark. God, just like that.” He pushed Sam’s face against himself hard, both hands on the back of Sam’s head and rubbed himself against Sam’s face. Sam whimpered, hands desperately flexing on the sides of Dean’s hips, his own hips pressing forward into Dean’s foot until it hurt. “What kind of a guy watches his little brother when he changes or showers and gets off on it, hm? Who can’t keep thinking about him like that, even though he knows it’s wrong? And it’s been like that for years, Sammy, ever since I can remember.”
“And I have no idea how I ever managed to keep myself away from you for that long. If I knew how pretty you looked like this I would have had you on your knees years ago.”
Sam whined at that piece of information, trying to pull away to look Dean in the face, see if this was Dean telling the truth or if it was some mean prank on him.
“What, Dean? You never said-“
“Shhh, Sammy. Stay right there.” Dean held him close and reached between them with one hand, pulling his cock out and Sam, before he even knew what he was doing helped Dean with his jeans, pulling them down to his thighs. “Good, now suck me, Sam, come one. Let’s put this mouth of yours to good use.”
Warning bells were going off in Sam’s head but he was too gone to care. He took Dean inside his mouth like it was the most natural thing for him to do, Dean carefully helping him with his hands on the back of Sam’s head. Sam took him in right until he felt the head of his cock hit the back of his throat, making him gag and then some more, pushing through the discomfort until he felt his nose press against Dean’s groomed pubes.
Dean held him there for a few seconds and groaned and Sam’s heart swelled with pride that he was able to do that.
“Fucking hell. You took all of me like it’s the easiest thing in the world. So good, baby boy, you’re doing so good. Would you let me inside your ass just as easily?”
Sam made a noise. He would try. It wouldn’t be easy, he was sure. Dean was big, but he would fucking take him if it was the last thing he would do. Even if it killed him. He hoped Dean understood what he was trying to say without words and took Dean in deep again, until more tears slipped down his cheeks, for sure making a pink mess on his face, mixing with the leftover blood from before.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed breathlessly. “I know you would. Or otherwise I’d make you. I’d just hold your pretty hips down so you wouldn’t be able to squirm away and then I’d put my dick in you, Sammy. No matter how hard I’d have to push. Even if I fucking tear you.”
Sam moaned around Dean’s cock. He was digging his fingers deep into the skin of Dean’s hips, no doubt leaving the impression of his nails. He felt his ass clench at Dean’s filthy words, realising that he wanted that more than anything.
“You want that?” Dean laughed and it was a mean and deep sound and it made Sam’s hips move faster against Dean’s foot. There was an orgasm building at the base of his spine, powerful and consuming and he fought against Dean’s hands to pull off his dick.
“I’m gonna come,” he said. His voice was raw, fucked out and Sam liked it like this, he always wanted to sound like this.
“Yeah? You’re getting off on sucking your brother’s dick, Sam? Gonna come from it?” He squeezed his own cock at the base with one hand, still holding Sam by his hair with the other.
Sam nodded, squeezing his eyes shut, hips working against Dean’s foot, feeling himself leak precome, making his boxers all wet and slick inside.
“Good.” Dean said, then guided himself back into Sam’s mouth. “You can come, baby, but you’re gonna do it with my cock in your mouth, yeah? And when I give it to you, you’re going to swallow it all.”
Sam moaned in agreement and ground against the pressure on his dick until it hurt more than it felt good. He worked his mouth on Dean’s dick sloppily, feeling spit run down the sides of his chin and down his neck, moaning in ecstasy every time he tasted a drop of Dean’s precome on his tongue.
He’d be happy to die like this, he realised and pressed himself closer. He pushed himself down Dean’s cock until he was choking on it again and frantically worked his hips and he was right there. The orgasm made his back arch and toes curl. It was ripped from him with an intensity that was more pain then pleasure. In the back of his mind he heard Dean talk him through it - “Fucking gorgeous, baby boy. Just look at you, humping my leg like a little bitch. That’s it, just work yourself through it.”
The climax left him dazed and fucked out. Dean didn’t remove his foot immediately, he took his sweet time pressing down on Sam’s softening dick until Sam’s hips twitched away, too sensitive. The only thing holding him up was Dean’s hand in his hair and his cock in his mouth, Sam thought hysterically. He twitched violently and tried to pull away to catch his breath, but Dean’s hand was once again a punishing grip in his hair, not allowing him to pull back even an inch.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Sammy. It’s my turn now. You’re gonna stay right here until I shoot down your throat.”
Dean held him right there, balls deep in Sam’s mouth, letting the spasming contractions of Sam’s throat bring him closer and closer to the edge. He easily batted away Sam’s hands when Sam tried to push him away. Blackness was starting to cloud Sam’s vision. He would lose consciousness soon, he realised. And not even with the adrenaline rush - his nervous system trying to keep him alive - was he a match for Dean’s strength.
“That’s it, just a little while longer, you can take it, Sam. I know you can.” He swept his fingers over the mess on Sam’s face - a mix of tears, saliva and blood and spread it all over, rubbing it into Sam’s hair.
“Oh, watch the teeth, sweetheart,” Dean warned and Sam whined pathetically, trying to open his mouth wider, fighting against the lack of oxygen to stay conscious.
Dean started to fuck his mouth then, short shallow thrusts, never pulling out far enough to allow Sam to take a breath.
“I’m right there, Sammy, just stay with me for a few more seconds,” Dean grunted. His thrusts turned brutal, fucking Sam with no regard for his comfort, just chasing after his own pleasure. Dean was using him as his personal fuck toy and Sam’s dick gave a weak twitch at the thought.
“Fuck yes, swallow for me, yeah? Swallow all of it.”
Suddenly, Dean pulled out until just the head of his cock remained in Sam’s mouth, working the rest of his dick with his hand and then he was coming, his sweet taste filling Sam’s mouth and Sam knew he would never ever be the same person he was before tasting and then swallowing his brother’s come.
“Oh, yes, that’s it, you’re such a good boy, Sammy.”
When Dean let go of his hair, Sam crumpled to the floor, sucking in deep breaths of air, willing his racing heart to slow down and his shaking limbs to still. Dean’s taste lingered in his mouth and he licked his lips, making sure he got everything.
“Fucking hell,” Dean said and Sam blinked up at him, his vision still cloudy. Dean pulled his jeans back up, tucking himself away, then turned around to reach for something. “Here, drink this.” Dean was offering him a bottle of water and Sam couldn’t help but laugh - the sound coming out all wrong.
“What?” Dean asked, frowning. When Sam didn’t reach for the water, he uncapped it, took a few long sips and then pushed it into Sam’s hand.
“What?!” Sam asked in disbelief. His voice was absolutely wrecked and it didn’t help if he cleared his throat either. “You just fucked my face into unconsciousness, and now you’re giving me water?”
Dean looked at him for a moment, unblinking, before a lazy grin spread across his face.
“Well, you don’t seem to be unconscious, but maybe we can try that the next time.”
Sam huffed out a laugh, shook his head and then took a swing from the bottle.
“Oh, we’re gonna need something a lot stronger than water, Dean.”