EXTREME BEHAVIOR
Nebraska
State Highway 91
Corn. Lots of it. Miles and miles of tall swaying corn stalks, as far as the eye could see. They flooded past the windows of the Impala lining either side of the flat expanse of dusty county road, making Sam feel as if he were traveling through a never-ending tunnel of green and gold. It was starting to give him a headache.
Heaving a weary sigh, Sam nevertheless continued to gaze out at the darkening fields, his eyes struggling to recognize patterns in the bars of shadow and light that played past his line of vision. There really wasn’t much else to do. His books and laptop were in the trunk, and every time he tried to turn on the radio, just for some noise, Dean would reach down with an irritated hmmph and shut it right back off.
So, staring out the window at the unchanging landscape became the highlight of the trip, whether Sam liked it or not. This, he noted dryly, was sort of the ongoing theme lately in his life. Nobody seemed to give a flying fuck what he wanted or thought these days, least of all, his brother Dean.
Another dejected sigh escaped Sam’s pursed lips as he absently watched the day’s last bit of sunlight slowly skim across the acres of corn, the brilliant rays catching the silken tassels at the tops of the stalks, creating a glowing corona about each one. Sam might have considered the scene rather majestic looking, if he actually gave a crap, but he didn’t. He had other things pressing on his mind at the moment; things that made enjoying the natural beauty of a Nebraska cornfield seem utterly frivolous and inconsequential.
He and Dean had booked it out of Bedford, Iowa over two days ago, after saying their goodbyes to Bobby just outside of town, and as much as they’d told Bobby that they were okay and that the job hadn’t gotten to them this time, Sam knew it was a big fat lie. Dean had barely spoken to him since then.
Two nights of sleeping alone in random motel beds, staring longingly at the broad span of Dean’s back as his brother slept in the bed across from him only drove the point home.
They usually got a room with one queen size bed, so that they could share their warmth, snuggling up to one another, Dean spooning Sam, and Sam feeling safe in Dean’s arms, but not anymore. Ever since Iowa, it had been separate beds and Dean changing in the bathroom, the sudden need for privacy sending a not so subtle message to Sam.
The silence now sat oppressively between the two of them in the front seat of the Impala, making the brief respites of constrained small talk and fake smiles as they’d stopped at various diners or gas stations seem like a blessing. Two and a half days of silent monotony along their route to…where? Sam didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask Dean. Not that his brother would tell him.
Besides, Sam had the feeling that Dean was just driving for the sake of keeping busy, that there really was no destination. Dean just didn’t want to stop for any length of time because stopping meant the two of them would actually have to talk and discuss things, and by things, Sam meant all the stupid shit that had happened with that siren back in Iowa.
He had hurt Dean. Badly. Sam knew it and regretted it more than anything. The things he’d said under the siren’s influence still rang harshly in Sam’s ears, taunting him. He’d gutted Dean with those words:
Because you’re too weak to go after her, Dean. You’re holding me back. I’m a better hunter than you are. Stronger, smarter; I can take out demons you’re too scared to go near. You’re too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, whining about all the souls you tortured in hell, boo-hoo.
Sam winced, remembering the way Dean’s eyes had gone dead after that. God, he couldn’t have been any crueler if he’d wanted to. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sam had followed it up with betrayal of the worst kind. Sleeping with Cara, the doctor at the hospital, and then lying to Dean about Ruby, letting Dean think he was fucking her behind Dean’s back as well.
Better that than the ugly truth, Sam tried to reason. Either way, he’d messed things up royally with his brother and it frightened him to think that this time, it might be beyond repair. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, his gaze nervously traveling across the leather seat over to his brother.
Dean’s eyes were focused solely on the windshield and the unwavering ribbon of blacktop directly in front of them, as if nothing else existed. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly enough that Sam knew Dean’s fingers would be stiff and sore later.
“Dean,” Sam tried once again. “Man, c’mon…”
He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, but Dean suddenly yanking the wheel hard to the right definitely hadn’t been in the plan. The Impala’s V-8 engine roared, the big black monster skidding into the turn, tires skipping for purchase on the dirt road they’d just turned off onto from the main county highway.
Unprepared for the sudden detour, Sam slid hard into his door, swearing loudly as the handle dug painfully into his ribs. He managed to right himself on the seat and then braced his hands against the dashboard, gripping hard, white knuckled, waiting a moment until Dean had the car under control again before attempting to question him.
He released his hold on the dash and turned on the bench seat to face his brother. “Jesus, Dean! What the hell -”
“Need to take a leak,” Dean muttered, never once looking away from the road.
Sam couldn’t help but find amusement in that. Seriously, if his brother had really needed to take a piss as badly as he’d just indicated, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t just pull over and go somewhere on the side of the deserted road like he’d done a million times before. Even so, Sam let Dean have his little passive-aggressive victory.
He gave a silent nod and settled back in his seat to face forward once again. He stared out the windshield at the monotonous scenery, lost in thought.
There wasn’t much in the way of roadside stops Sam quickly realized. The specific part of Nebraska they were driving through was populated mostly by acres of farmland interspersed with patches of flat nothingness. Nevertheless, Dean drove on determinedly, a man on a mission. To pee, apparently.
Evening shadows were crawling across the hood of the Impala when they finally pulled into a half-empty dirt lot, fronting a seedy no-name bar. It was the first public place they had happened upon that looked even remotely inhabited.
The building was small, one-storey and gave the appearance of having been cobbled together from leftover cinderblocks and planks salvaged from a barn fire. The owner had attempted to brighten up the façade by stapling rows of mismatched blinking Christmas lights around the door and windows. As they got closer to the building, Sam noted that more than half the bulbs were either burnt out or broken.
He glanced out the windshield, peering at the rusted tin sign hanging over the dilapidated screen door of the place. It announced simply: COLD BEER. It looked like someone with a shotgun had used it for target practice, the metal liberally dimpled with pockmarks.
Nice place, Sam thought. The burnt out wreckage of Harvelle’s Roadhouse would have been a step up compared to this dump. He shuddered, grimacing at the building in front of him, his lip curling in distaste. His brother should have taken his chances on the side of the road. If it was this bad on the outside, God only knew what condition the restrooms would be in.
Dean stopped the car a few yards from the building, pulling into a parking space at the far edge of the lot, preferring the nearness of the open road and a fast getaway to the ease of a shorter walk to the front door. He threw the Impala into park, slinging his door open practically before he’d even turned off the engine.
Sam was reaching for his own door handle, when he was brought up short by Dean’s caustic tone.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Dean eyed Sam over his shoulder.
Sam frowned, offering up an unsure smile. “Um, inside? You said you needed the bathroom.”
“Yeah, I do. And I don’t need your help with that, Sam,” Dean stated. His stony look added a bite to the words.
He slid out of the car, slamming the door harder than he needed to, and stalked off toward the bar without so much as a glance back towards Sam or the car.
Sam let out a gloomy huff of exasperation as he watched his brother disappear into the building, trying to ignore the dull ache of his heart at being so easily dismissed and forgotten. Shutting his eyes in resignation, he slumped down in his seat, knees pressed tightly against the dashboard to wait. He let his head fall back against the headrest and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, absently wondering how things could possibly get any worse between him and his brother.
The sharp rap on the window next to Sam’s head jolted him out of his musings, startling him enough that he actually flinched. Another rap on the glass had Sam turning hastily toward the intrusion, a look of petulant annoyance on his face. His annoyance quickly evaporated when he caught site of the person standing outside the car. He groaned.
“You mind?” Ruby asked tartly. She nodded at the locked rear passenger door.
Sam stared at her for a moment, not fully believing what he was seeing, until Ruby cocked her hip and arched a brow at him, her gaze flicking from Sam’s bewildered expression down to the locked door in front of her and back to Sam again.
Sam couldn’t resist an eye roll, however, he reached back to unlock the door, glancing out the windshield for any sign of his brother as Ruby climbed into the back seat of the Impala. If Dean knew she was here, there’d be hell to pay and then some. Sam had no doubt that Dean would literally shit a brick over seeing the two of them together, and then he’d take that brick and start beating people to death with it, beginning with Sam.
Sam refused to turn around in his seat to meet Ruby’s look, choosing instead to glare at the brunette through the rear view mirror. He was drained, mentally and emotionally, and he didn’t feel like wasting time playing guessing games with her.
“What are you doing here, Ruby?” Sam asked tiredly.
“I’ve missed you, Sam.”
Their eyes met in the mirror and Ruby gave Sam a covert smirk as if knowing her presence there was only going to stir up more trouble for Sam. Not that she seemed to care, Sam noted. Ruby was long past giving a shit about keeping Dean placated for the sake of the brothers’ relationship.
Sam knew he shouldn’t have let her into the car. He knew it would piss Dean off royally, especially when Dean was already under the impression that he was losing Sam’s affection to her. It was petty and childish, he knew, but Sam felt a faint prickle of excitement at the prospect of doing something Dean had all but forbidden him to do, at being able to pluck at Dean’s jealousy in retaliation for the past few days of being caged up with his brother’s bottled emotions.
Conversation, even with a demon that appeared to be bent on dragging him over to the dark side, somehow seemed more palatable than putting up with one more night of Dean’s brooding, spiteful demeanor.
With a resigned sigh, Sam rotated on the seat to meet Ruby’s gaze face-to-face, but was stopped when, like a sensuous cat, Ruby draped herself over the front seat, snaking her arms around Sam’s shoulders to rest her hands possessively on Sam’s chest. The heat from her palms branded Sam’s skin through the two layers of shirts he wore and sent a wave of goosebumps across his skin.
Ruby’s dark curls tickled Sam’s cheek as she leaned in close, her breath warm and inviting. “Don’t you miss me?” she questioned softly, her glossed lips almost touching the shell of Sam’s ear.
Sam shivered, swallowing hard. He could smell her. Her blood. And it smelled…oh God, it smelled so good. Sam shifted uncomfortably on his seat, licking his dry lips.
This is so fucked up, he thought miserably. Dean thought he wanted Ruby, but Dean was wrong. Dead wrong.
Sam wanted Dean. Had always wanted him. Longed for his big brother in the worst way, ever since his hormones had come into play as a teenager, and Dean had never denied Sam that love until now. Even so, Sam would never desire Ruby the way he did Dean.
But, Ruby’s blood? Well, that was a different story, Sam admitted shamefully. That he craved. Hungered for it, as a matter of fact, like some strung-out loser junkie. Sam hated the way Ruby could make him feel so out of control because of it and yet he found it next to impossible not to succumb.
“You haven’t been returning my calls the past couple days, Sam,” Ruby said. She pouted, and stroked Sam’s cheek, gently trailing her fingers down the angular plane of his face to his clenched jaw. “A girl might think you don’t care about her anymore…”
Sam clamped his lower lip between his teeth, shaking from the effort of resisting the temptation Ruby presented. He needed to stop. Had to stop because despite what he may have felt earlier, hurting Dean wasn’t what he really wanted, not really. Being without his brother, having that love withheld, was slowly killing Sam. All the lies and secrets he was keeping from the one person he loved the most in the world weren’t worth shit if Dean decided it was too much to deal with and just walked away.
“You need to leave,” Sam managed to grit out between his clenched teeth.
Ruby laughed and thrust her perfumed wrist up under Sam’s nose. Her cocky smile widened when she heard Sam softly moan, and her eyes changed, the whites swallowed up by the inky blackness of her demon side surfacing.
“You know you want it, Sam,” she crooned, licking the edge of his earlobe with the velvet tip of her tongue. Sam shuddered, his breath hitching. “It’s okay. It’ll make you feel better. It’s what you need,” she coaxed.
Sam reached up with shaking hands to grasp Ruby’s forearm tightly, not sure at first whether he was going to shove the appendage away or bring it up to his mouth where he could take advantage of her offer by sinking his teeth into her wrist and feeding on the warm saltiness of her blood. He never got a chance to make the decision because, just then, the rear passenger door of the Impala flew wide open.
One minute Ruby was wrapped around him, enticing him, and the next, she was being yanked out of the car by the roots of her hair, her startled yelps of rage filling the balmy evening air.
Sam’s gaze immediately darted to the window next to him. Nose and hands pressed up against the glass, he looked like a little kid goggling at the puppies in the front window of a pet store. He stared, eyes impossibly wide and mouth agape, at his brother and Ruby as they struggled just outside the car.
Dean’s fingers were buried deep in Ruby’s long, dark hair, gripping it tightly as he roughly hauled her backwards, out and away from the Impala. Ruby’s boot heels scraped twin grooves in the gravel of the parking lot as she kicked and flailed, trying to pull loose from the angry hunter’s grasp, but Dean had no intention of letting her go just yet.
The car window began to fog up from the short rapid breaths escaping from Sam’s nose and mouth, and his view became temporarily obstructed. It was just enough of a distraction to snap Sam out of bystander mode and into action. He shoved open his door, getting ready to break up the fight. If he could just get Dean and Ruby separated, then maybe, just maybe, no one would die tonight.
“Sam!” Dean’s throaty growl assaulted Sam before he could even put foot to pavement. “Stay the fuck in the car if you know what’s good for you!” he bellowed.
Sam froze, one foot still in the car and the other one dangling over the ground outside, the toe of his shoe less than an inch from the gravel. His worried gaze traveled from Ruby struggling desperately to free herself back to Dean, who was leveling a black glare at Sam, daring him to disobey.
Sam’s brows scrunched together, mind racing, as he vacillated between following Dean’s order and doing what his conscious told him. In the end, Dean made his mind up for him.
“Sammy,” Dean barked. His voice rumbled from the depths of his chest, low and dangerous, like a verbal thunderstorm.
It vividly reminded Sam of their father’s angry tone when he was about to beat one of their asses for misbehaving one too many times, and Sam reacted on pure instinct. He quietly shut the car door and shrank back against the seat in mute distress.
“Let go of me, you cocksucker!” Ruby shrieked. She clawed at the parts of Dean’s wrists she could reach.
Dean let go with his right hand and swung the demon around to face him, a nasty sneer darkening his features.
“I’d be careful who you call a cocksucker, sweetheart,” he snarled. “Kinda the pot calling the kettle black, don’tcha think?”
He yanked back hard on the hair at Ruby’s nape until her chin pointed towards the star-filled sky. If he’d had the special knife on him, he’d have used it right then, slicing her throat to the bone.
Ruby sensed the raw hatred pouring off Dean and she managed a low chuckle at his inability to control his emotions when it came to his little brother.
“What’sa matter, Dean? Afraid you’ll never be enough to satisfy Sammy?” she challenged.
Dean didn’t reply but Ruby could tell that the jibe had hurt him by the way the hunter’s jaw muscle was clenched so tight it twitched.
Her lips curved up into a treacherous smile. “You’ll never be able to give him what he truly needs,” she taunted further. “He’s growing away from you, Dean, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“That so?” Dean asked, stiffly. “Well, there is one thing I can do,” he said as he smiled coldly at her.
Ruby shot him a questioning look.
Dean cocked his right arm back, the hand balling into a compact fist. “Say goodnight, Gracie,” he grunted and then swung hard.
The punch was solid, nailing Ruby in the mouth and rocking her head back, her eyes rolling up in her skull. She let out a wet gasp as her bottom teeth shredded her lips and bloodied Dean’s knuckles. Dean let go of Ruby, watching as her dead weight carried her to the ground where she crumpled into a limp heap, out cold.
“God, that felt good,” Dean muttered as he wiped his bloody hand off on the thigh of his jeans.
He grimaced as he flexed his sore hand a few times, checking to make sure there were no broken bones. Reassured that the hand was in relatively decent shape, Dean chanced a look up and across the asphalt to his car to ensure that Sam was still planted in the front seat as Dean had ordered. He smiled darkly at his brother.
Sam shrank back from the car window at the heated look Dean was giving him. His stomach fluttered at the mixed signals he was getting.
That’s either a We’re done being brothers look or an I’m gonna salt and burn your ass and then fuck you into the mattress so hard you won’t be able to walk straight for a week look, Sam nervously noted. One was certain death and the other meant…well, it meant Sam might just get laid that night. Sam’s heart jittered crazily in his chest at the possibility.
Dean strode toward the Impala with such a focused intensity to his manner that Sam was immediately reminded of a crazed serial killer in one of those cheesy B-grade horror movies Dean loved watching on TV. His brother’s eyes glinted black and unyielding, and he looked as if he would rip the door right off the frame of the car to get at Sam and tear him limb from limb, all the while laughing maniacally as Sam’s blood spattered wetly across the inside of the Impala.
Sam quickly rethought the possibility of hot sweaty sex in his near future, and with a tight whimper, he slammed all the locks down on the car doors, thereby shutting Dean out. Just until Dean cooled down, Sam reasoned.
Dean stopped in his tracks and watched his brother with a bemused smirk on his lips. Sam glanced at Dean, noted the absence of worry on his brother’s face and swiftly let his eyes fall to his hands knotted in his lap, suddenly completely unsure of himself and wondering when things had gotten so far out of control.
Dean stood there a few more heartbeats and then, with a smug grin still ghosting over his face, he continued on towards the car at a more casual pace, a hunter stalking his cornered prey.
He ambled around the front of the Impala, boots crunching through the gravel, and over to the driver’s side door, his earlier anger hiding behind a thin veneer of self-control and long-practiced confidence. Dean bent down, eyes hooded, head ducked low, so that he could peer through the driver’s side window and across the seat at Sam.
Dean’s voice, though muffled by the glass, sounded no less imposing. “Sam,” he growled, and Sam jumped, looking up once again. “Unlock the damn doors before I beat your ass.”
Typical Dean, Sam thought, direct and to the point.
Sam’s eyes traveled helplessly over to the side mirror, looking for Ruby. Why he wasn’t quite sure, maybe for moral support, maybe hoping she’d come save him. It didn’t matter. She was already gone, leaving Sam to deal with the situation on his own.
Sam turned back to Dean, giving him a pleading look. “Dean, you need to calm d-”
“Don’t tell me to calm down, Sam!” Dean snapped. “I’m not even gone five freaking minutes, and you summon that skank h -”
“I didn’t summon her,” Sam protested.
“Stop lying to me!”
“I’m not lying! Sh-she showed up on her own,” Sam insisted.
Dean wasn’t buying it.
“So…what? She just shows up, out of the blue … in the middle of nowhere? Why, Sam?” Dean flung an arm back toward the rundown bar behind him, his tone mocking. “Cause she heard about the happy hour special on Pabst here and just couldn’t pass it up?”
Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean continued, the scowl on his face deepening. “Or maybe, Sam, just maybe, you were feeling lonely for your BFF and decided to have a little play date since you weren’t getting any from me, and of course, good old Ruby wasn’t gonna turn that down now, was she?” Dean snarled. He slammed a fist down on the top of the Impala. “You and that hell bitch - in MY car, dammit!”
Sam’s cheeks reddened. “We weren’t doing anything in your stupid, car, Jesus -”
“Really?” Dean huffed, cutting him off. “‘Cause I know what I saw, Sam, and you pretty much looked like you were gettin’ ready to drive Miss Daisy!”
Sam carefully let out a frustrated breath and turned to glare right back at Dean. His eyes were two bright green flames of resentment flickering in the deepening shadows.
“Funny time to get all jealous on me now,” he spat, letting out a harsh snort of contempt. “What do you fucking care anymore anyway?”
“S’cuse me?” Dean’s voice was calm, despite the fact that his brows nearly shot off his forehead.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam continued, nodding, more for his own benefit than for Dean’s. “You haven’t spoken to me since Bedford, Dean. Three. Days. Ago. Nothing, other than a few grunts or barked out orders.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. He fixed an angry bitter glare on the older Winchester. “And as for sex?” He gave a short angry laugh. “Well, I’ve pretty much given up on ever having that with you again, so I guess I might as well fuck a demon. Hell, at least she was willing,” he added tartly.
Dean’s face remained disturbingly neutral as he silently stared at Sam, unblinking, through the window, the only noise being the eerie buzz-click sound of cicadas in the nearby fields surrounding the parking lot.
The unnatural stillness made Sam feel like the apocalypse had come early and they were now the only two left on Earth. No one went into or came out of the bar. No cars passed on the road out front nor were there any other sounds one would normally associate with an oncoming Midwestern spring evening.
Sam felt a strong shiver crawl over his body, the sensation all the more unsettling because he knew that if he touched his skin at that very moment, it would feel feverishly hot under his hand, rather than cold.
“Dude, last chance,” Dean finally spoke, his voice calm yet full of restrained rage. He grabbed the door handle in front of him and gave it a little shake.
“Not ‘til you chill out,” Sam demanded, crossing his arms up over his chest.
Despite feeling somewhat intimidated by his brother, Sam was still annoyed enough to ignore the implicit warning Dean gave him. He knew what baiting his brother would do. Knew it and didn’t care. Dean was finally speaking to him again. Looking at him.
“I’m not kidding around, Sammy,” Dean said, his eyes narrowing. “Open this door right the fuck now, or I swear, you’re gonna be sleeping on your belly tonight, and not for the reasons you might think.”
Sam snorted. “Oh yeah? And what reasons are those?”
“You think I haven’t been payin’ enough attention to you lately, Sam? Think you need to go elsewhere? Settle for that demon bitch to get what you need?”
“How would you know what I need?” Sam snapped. He threw Dean a sour look.
Dean’s smile turned blacker than pitch. “Oh trust me, little brother, I know exactly what you need. And while it does involve your ass in the process,” here, Dean’s smirk grew ugly, “It’ll be my belt doing all the work, not my dick.”
Sam felt a flush bloom across his cheeks and then his blood suddenly rushed southward, balls tingling in anticipation. He let out a shaky laugh. “You’re bluffing,” he whispered.
Dean’s frosty glare said otherwise. “Sam,” he growled. “The door. Now!”
Dean struck the heel of his palm against the window, the loud slap sending a reverberating jolt throughout Sam’s entire body, setting him on fire. Angry, jealous Dean sort of turned him on, although they were usually naked, breathing hard and in a motel bed somewhere by this point. That brought a sly smile to Sam’s face. Throwing caution to the wind, he decided to up the ante.
“Make me,” Sam challenged. He was somewhat surprised by his open defiance, but then again, the doors were locked. What else could Dean do but play Sam’s game?
Dean sighed, shaking his head sadly. It wasn’t the response Sam had expected, nevertheless, his expression remain unchanged as he grinned smugly at Dean. His game, his rules.
“Always gotta do things the hard way, don’t you, Sammy?” Dean said. He shrugged, gave his brother a nasty little smile and held up the car keys, jingling them in front of the window.
Sam’s face fell instantly. “Well…fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
Sam and Dean moved simultaneously, Sam launching himself at his door while Dean scrambled frantically to get the key in the lock and get into the car before Sam could escape.
Sam’s fingers scrabbled at his door lock, yanking it up with such mad desperation that he almost tore a fingernail clean off in the process. Heart thudding in his chest, he shouldered the door open hard at the same time he heard the door across from him creaking open. He made it halfway out of the Impala before he felt Dean’s fingers snag and catch hold of the waistband of his jeans.
Sam let out a bleat of panic.
Dean reeled in his struggling brother, a tight smile etched on his face. “C’mere you little shit,” he growled.
Faster than he’d anticipated, Sam found himself face down over the hood of the Impala, his left arm securely wedged against the small of his back keeping him in place, the strain on his muscles just short of being painful.
Sam tried to inject a little playfulness into the situation. “Been working out lately?” he inquired.
In reply, Dean let his full weight drop down over top of Sam, his stomach and chest molded against the long fluid line of Sam’s back and ass, lean muscled thighs pressed tightly up against Sam’s, crowding the younger man, pinning him heavily to the dark metal underneath him.
It swiftly became apparent to Sam that Dean was still angry and wasn’t in the mood for games just yet. Dean’s breath was hot against Sam’s temple, lips brushing at the soft wisps of Sam’s bangs.
“For your sake, Sammy, you better hope I haven’t been working out,” Dean purred, “‘cause I’m about to beat the shit outta your stubborn, slutty little ass. Right here. Right now.”
Dean reached down between their bodies to stroke the curve of Sam’s ass through the coarse denim of his jeans, stopping to cup and then squeeze his brother’s right butt cheek. He gave it a light slap, a pale hint of what was to come.
Sam whimpered softly and Dean’s smile hardened.
“Is that what you want, Sammy? Hmm? That what you were angling for?” Dean teased. He returned to rubbing his palm roughly over Sam’s jutting ass. “Me whipping your ass ‘til it’s all red and raw? Marking you? Showing you who’s boss?”
Sam moaned, his eyes darkening with lust. He let out a startled grunt when Dean’s palm unexpectedly connected with his ass, hard this time, the sting stirring up a delicious curl of heat in his belly. Dean’s hand rose and fell several more times in quick succession, branding Sam’s ass. The muffled slaps rang in Sam’s ears, sending his heart racing and his blood pounding.
“What if someone comes out and sees us?” Sam finally gasped, craning his head up to look over towards the bar in hesitation. He felt Dean shrug against him.
“Shoulda thought of that before you decided to play keep away in my car,” Dean replied. He let out a cold chuckle. “You wanted my attention, Sam? Well, you got it, in spades.”
Sam let out a petulant whine when he felt Dean lift off him, the echo of warmth from his brother’s body rapidly dissipating in the cool evening air, but no sooner did he mourn its loss than Dean’s arms were back, hands sliding possessively up underneath both layers of his shirts, rucking the fabric up under Sam’s armpits to bare his torso to the night.
“Mine,” Dean stated tersely.
Sam felt Dean’s palms raking over the skin of his back just above the waistband of his jeans, thumbs brushing over the knobs of his lower spine before they circled around to his waist, fingers heatedly grazing over his ribs, pulling a low moan from Sam. They traveled further around, to Sam’s stomach, calloused fingers stroking across muscled abs before they slid down lower to the front of Sam’s jeans.
Sam was shaking by the time Dean took hold of Sam’s belt buckle and began to undo it. Sam couldn’t control himself any longer. He wriggled in anticipation, jerking Dean’s fingers from their task in the process.
With a low growl, Dean delivered a punishing slap to Sam’s flank. “Settle down,” he warned.
Sam instantly complied, letting out another imploring moan to indicate that Dean had his undivided attention now.
Dean snorted, shaking his head, the corners of his mouth tilting up a bit. “You and your pain kink, Sammy,” he murmured huskily.
Dean returned his attention to Sam’s belt, and getting that undone without further interruption, he grabbed the zipper of Sam’s jeans, letting his fingers brush purposely against the obvious bulge underneath, causing Sam to gasp and bite his bottom lip, hard.
Dean grew serious. “Like I said earlier, I ain’t playin’ around this time, little brother. I’m gonna teach you a hard, painful lesson.”
“Long as we end up back to the way it used to be, I don’t care,” Sam declared, his throat tightening. “I just want you back, Dean,” he rasped.
“I’m not the one that keeps leaving,” Dean’s voice was a harsh whisper in Sam’s ear. He yanked Sam’s zipper down hard and then stood back from his brother. “Get ‘em down, Sam,” Dean commanded. “Boxers too.”
Sam stood up and slowly turned around to face his brother. Dean’s hooded eyes moved lazily down Sam’s torso, stopping at his crotch and Sam licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. The tiny smirk playing on Dean’s lips did nothing to calm Sam’s nerves or his libido. Quite the opposite, in fact, as his heart began trip hammering even harder in his chest.
Sam swallowed, forcing his feverish eyes to lock with Dean’s. His brother’s heated gaze let Sam know that he’d be forgiven tonight, but he’d have to offer up some penance first.
Wordless, Sam shoved his jeans and underwear down over the carved angles of his hips, letting gravity slide the clothing the rest of the way to the ground. His cock jutted up against his stomach, rock hard, a glisten of pre-cum at the tip.
Grabbing Sam’s arm just above his elbow, Dean swung Sam back around towards the hood of the car. Sam stumbled a little, feet twisting as they got caught in the jumble of his jeans, but Dean’s firm hold kept him from doing a face plant into the gravel. He let his brother wrestle him back down over the hood, the cool metal a shock against the raging heat of his bared groin.
Sam shivered, goose bumps rising all across the flesh of his thighs and ass.
“Hands on the hood, Sam,” Dean ordered.
Sam complied, placing his shaking hands, palms down, onto the Impala. Dean came up behind him and used his foot to roughly nudge Sam’s feet apart as wide as the jeans around his brother’s ankles would allow.
Sam heard the clink of metal as Dean undid his belt, followed by the soft scrape of leather against denim as Dean pulled his belt from the loops of his jeans. He remained bent over the hood of the Impala waiting, quiet and obedient. This was Dean’s game now.
He didn’t have to wait long. The whoosh of the belt filled Sam’s ears, sending a jolt of electricity straight to his dick, and then he felt the stripe of white heat slice across his naked ass. He sucked in air through clenched teeth, face scrunching up in pain.
Dean drew back and let fly again, the belt cracking down over the roundest part of Sam’s butt this time, leaving a wide red slash in its wake. Sam gasped as he was jolted forward a bit from the impact. His fingers curled, searching for something to grip to help ride out the burning sting but there was only the smooth glossy expanse of the hood under his touch.
“You wanted to hurt me, Sam? To piss me off? Make me jealous?” Dean questioned. He continued to assault Sam’s ass with his belt. “Well good job, dude. You get a gold star. Mission accomplished.”
The next smack of the belt caught the tender crease of Sam’s butt where it met his thighs, and Sam cried out, his ass on fire. He jerked his head around to stare at Dean with wide bright eyes.
“M’sorry,” Sam choked. “Dean, please.”
“Please what?” Dean barked.
“Please. Punish me,” Sam begged. His subdued tone matched the earnest look in his glistening eyes before he turned back to face the car, bare ass pushed out suggestively and head dipping low in submission.
Dean felt his dick instantly engorge, tenting out the front of his jeans.
He stared for a long hard moment at Sam’s bowed back, his eyes dilating with hunger, a growing tingle spreading through his balls. This was his brother, his Sam, surrendering fully to him.
Dean raked his gaze down towards his brother’s naked clenched ass, the supple skin no longer silver-pale in the moonlight but tinged now a blushing pink.
“Please,” Sam repeated in a breathless moan, and Dean almost came right then in his pants.
“Anything you want, Sammy,” Dean whispered roughly. He raised the belt high over his shoulder.
Sam embraced the pain, rode it, let it wash over him in searing waves that drove away the guilt he’d been carrying and sent his nerve endings dancing. It was more than just the sensation of leather punishing skin, of heat building in a pleasure/pain crescendo that exploded over him and through him, making him cry out and tremble. It was so much more than that. It was Dean forgiving him and taking him back.
By the time Dean laid the final stroke down across Sam’s bare ass, Sam was whimpering incoherently and Dean was rock hard and panting from his efforts.
“Damn, Sammy,” he whispered. Dean’s hand fell open, dropping the belt to the ground, as he took a step towards the younger man, eyes losing their hardened glint.
He reached out and ran a gentle hand over the smoldering latticework of crimson welts now decorating Sam’s ass. Sam hissed loudly, his back arching, the soft caress feeling like sandpaper grating against his sore, bruised skin.
“You happy now?” Dean whispered, his voice raw, choked.
“Yes,” Sam gasped, and Dean let out a short, pained laugh of disbelief.
Despite the throbbing ache, Sam pressed his sore ass up into his brother’s palm, wanting the connection, needing to feel Dean’s hands on him. “M’sorry, Dean. So sorry,” Sam said tiredly, sniffling and wiping his eyes on his shirtsleeve.
He let his forehead rest against the hood of the Impala, sighing as the cool metal drew the heat from his brow.
“Please don’t leave me,” Sam blurted out, his voice muffled as he spoke into the hood of the car.
“Not goin’ anywhere, Sammy,” Dean huskily replied.
Sam suddenly became aware of Dean’s rock hard cock pressing urgently against his left hip, the roughness of his brother’s jeans re-igniting the fire in his aching ass. He trembled, biting back a groan of pain, breath hitching in excitement.
Dean leaned in, rubbing his hard length up and down his brother, rutting against Sam’s thigh. “See what you do to me?” he murmured. He gripped Sam’s hips, hands rough and possessive, bruising the skin underneath his fingertips.
Sam moaned out his brother’s name between clenched teeth, eyes squeezing tightly shut. The raw agony of his backside competed for attention with the raging lust Dean had stoked in his groin. He shamelessly ground down against the hood of the car to gain some relief from his throbbing, leaking dick.
“Deeean,” Sam moaned, his voice low, almost guttural, as he continued to squirm, rubbing himself against the Impala. “Dean, need to…”
Not able to stand it any longer, Sam wormed a hand down between himself and the hood, clutching at his painful erection, needing some sort of contact other than the hard, indifferent metal of the car.
A whine of frustration escaped his lips when Dean captured his hand and pulled it back out from beneath him. Dean placed Sam’s hand firmly back onto the hood again, his own warm hand engulfing Sam’s and giving it a squeeze before moving down to encircle Sam’s wrist to keep it in place.
“I’m not done punishing you yet, Sam,” Dean said.
Sam’s whimper was cut short by Dean’s lips pressing over the pulse point at the side of his throat. Dean sucked a bruise into the skin there and then smiled against his brother’s neck at the little jitter he felt as Sam’s heartbeat quickened.
“Gonna fuck you good and hard now, Sammy,” Dean announced matter-of-factly.
He used his free hand to unbutton and unzip himself, tugging his fly open as he laid another kiss against Sam’s exposed neck, then slowly moved, biting and sucking his way down to Sam’s collarbone, relishing the little shudders and shivers his tongue and teeth aroused in his brother.
“Fuck you ‘til you understand,” Dean murmured. “Fuck you ‘til you know, KNOW, Sam that you’re MINE and nobody else’s.”
He released Sam’s wrist a moment to use both his hands to yank down his own pants and boxers, finally freeing his thick angry cock. Dean stroked it once, twice, and grinned as his dick grew even harder from the attention.
“You better pray you have some lube on you, Sammy,” Dean snarled, “”Cause I know I don’t, and I ain’t in the mood to go searching for some right now.” He played with his cock some more, watching it twitch and pulse, heavy in his hand. “What’s it gonna be? Smooth and easy or rough and painful?”
“Front jeans pocket, right side,” Sam whispered hoarsely.
Dean snorted, clearly entertained. “Jerking off a lot, I take it?” he asked.
“Not like I’ve been getting any help in that arena lately,” Sam acidly replied.
He yelped loudly when Dean smacked his already scorched ass, once hard.
“You really wanna go down that road right now, Sam?” Dean questioned, his tone full of warning.
Sam clammed back up. While he enjoyed being spanked by his big brother, was even turned on by it, there was a limit to what his ass could endure in a single night, and he’d pretty much reached it with the belt whipping he’d just taken.
Satisfied that he’d put Sam in his place for the moment and wanting to get on with his plan to fuck his little brother senseless, Dean crouched down behind Sam and reached around the younger man’s spread legs to dig a hand into the indicated pocket. He found the small packet easily enough and stood back up, tearing it open with his teeth before pouring some of the lube into his cupped hand.
Dean liberally coated his hard-on with lube from the thick base to the leaking tip and then leaned back down across Sam again, his slick fingers probing the younger man’s ass crack, spreading Sam open to lightly tease and finger his tight bud.
Sam mewled, the coolness of the lube and the insistent pressure of Dean’s fingers sending all rational thought from his mind. He shifted against the side of the Impala impatiently, wanting Dean inside of him, wanting his brother’s cock sliding in and out of his ass.
As if reading his mind, Dean pressed his throbbing length up against Sam, riding Sam’s ass crack until Sam’s breath came in harsh pants.
“This what you want, Sam?” Dean asked.
Sam’s answer was a desperate groan and the hitch of his hips as he tried to shove himself backwards onto Dean’s dick.
“Nuh uh, Sammy. My rules, my way,” Dean stated.
He took hold of Sam’s hips, raking a thumbnail over a welt on Sam’s smarting ass, applying firm pressure, letting Sam know who was in control. Sam squeaked at the brief flare of pain, then quickly settled, but not without a frustrated sigh thrown over his shoulder at Dean.
Dean smiled to himself. Kid couldn’t not be a brat, even when he was about to get the fucking of his life.
With one hand, Dean guided the swollen tip of his cock to Sam’s slick hole and then without warning, he shoved in, slow and steady, until he was balls deep inside his brother, his groin pressed tightly against the heat of Sam’s freshly spanked ass.
Sam keened loudly at the sudden burn and Dean capitulated by pulling almost all of the way out, barely breeching Sam’s tight muscle, before gentling himself back in with a few shallow thrusts until Sam relaxed a little under him. Dean then slowly advanced once more, each thrust a little deeper than the last.
“Ah, God!” Sam whimpered. His head dipped low, back undulating under Dean, salty droplets of sweat from his brow splashing against the hood of the car.
“You like this, don’t you?” Dean whispered against Sam’s ear. “Me filling you up, owning you, taking you like this?”
“Mmhhmmm,” was all Sam could muster.
He was too busy adjusting to the fullness of Dean’s cock throbbing deep in his ass to offer up a more coherent reply. His own dick, trapped between his quaking stomach and the car, was so hard that it almost hurt, but Sam didn’t care. It wasn’t about him right now; it was about Dean. Making up for the things he’d said and done to Dean, letting his brother know he was truly sorry and that he still loved him, still trusted him, and still needed him.
Sam let out a long desperate whine when Dean forcefully ground his hips against him, Dean’s thatch of pubic hair scraping against the welts on Sam’s ass, driving Sam hard up against the hood of the car. He tightened his hole around Dean in response, and Dean reacted by grunting and trying to bury himself deeper into his brother.
Dean began to pound into Sam then with a steady brutal rhythm, his thick shaft gliding in and out of his brother, his large hands splayed possessively over Sam’s jerking hips, the Impala creaking and rocking underneath their sweaty, melded bodies.
“Mine,” Dean growled, over and over, as he fucked into Sam. “You’re mine, Sammy.”
Sam moaned long and low.
“Say it!” Dean demanded. He sank his teeth into Sam’s shoulder as he pummeled his brother with his cock.
“Yesss!” Sam finally hissed. “Yours, Dean. Only yours.”
Dean rewarded Sam by adjusting his angle of entry a bit, so that the blunt head of his cock nailed Sam’s prostate hard.
“Fuckgodyes!” Sam cried out, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt a bright white heat building in his belly. “I’m yours, Dean. Always, I swear.”
“No more games,” Dean ordered. “No more fucking random strangers to piss me off and no more hanging around that hell-bitch,” he insisted.
Dean ruthlessly teased Sam, running over the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside his brother again and again with his dick until Sam was moaning and shaking like someone possessed. Licking up the side of Sam’s sweaty neck, Dean savored the salty tang before latching his teeth onto Sam’s earlobe. His mouth quirked into a smile around the flesh between his lips when Sam whimpered his name out loud.
“No more, Sammy,” Dean said.
“No more,” Sam echoed tightly in between groans of pleasure as Dean’s thrusts sped up. “I swear it, Dean. Only you. Love only you.”
Dean’s hips stuttered at that and he felt his balls drawing up, tightening, his orgasm imminent. “Ah, fuck, Sammy,” he groaned, clenching his teeth, body going rigid.
He thrust deeply one last time, burying himself to the hilt in his brother, his breathing ragged and harsh as he felt the familiar tingle in his groin sending shockwaves up his spine. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Dean exploded inside Sam with a hoarse shout.
Sam felt his brother spasm, flooding his insides with a molten heat, and his own cock jerked angrily against the Impala, wanting its own release. He almost sobbed from the ache.
“Hang on, Sammy,” Dean rasped, still trying to catch his breath as he lay heavily across Sam’s trembling back. “Hold on, I’m gonna take care of you, little brother.”
Dean’s softening cock slowly slipped from Sam’s ass, but Dean didn’t let go of his brother. Instead, he gently took Sam’s shoulders, and turned the younger man around to face him.
Sam grunted and winced as his sore ass pressed into the side of the car, but he was quickly shut up by Dean’s lips descending upon his in a forceful kiss that stole his breath from him, teeth mashing together, tongues tangling. It was messy and wet and fucking incredible, Sam thought.
Dean’s left hand came up to entangle itself in Sam’s sweaty hair at the back of his head, fingers carding through the dark mop of locks before he moved to cup the back of Sam’s neck, pulling him in closer as he deepened the kiss.
Sam’s fingers curled into Dean’s shirtfront, locking on tightly, and he willingly surrendered, allowing Dean to plunder his mouth freely. Dean took advantage of this by sucking on Sam’s tongue and nibbling on his brother’s lower lip until Sam couldn’t stand it any longer and began to kiss back just as hard, his own tongue now fucking in and out of Dean’s hot, wet mouth.
Reaching down, Dean closed his right hand over Sam’s raging hard on, thumb rubbing across the over-sensitized tip, making Sam gasp into his mouth.
Dean chuckled, lips still mapping every corner of Sam’s as he began to jerk his brother off with firm, quick strokes, the slapping sound of skin on skin competing with Sam’s loud moans.
“Oh God…I’m g-gonna c-come,” Sam stuttered as his head fell back away from Dean’s lips. “Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna -”
“Just let go, Sammy. I gotcha,” Dean murmured.
He worked Sam’s cock, expertly stripping it, fingers rubbing rough over the underside of the shaft while twisting on the upstroke. Sam frantically bucked up into Dean’s hand, the tingling feeling building behind his tightening balls, blinding him to anything but the thought of coming and coming hard.
“Do it. Come for me,” Dean whispered tersely, and that’s all it took.
Sam cried out, stars exploding behind his eyelids as he erupted in a white-hot torrent, spurting hard all over Dean’s hand and his own stomach. He shook with the release, falling loosely against Dean, who lovingly cradled his brother in his arms.
Dean reached down between their bodies to gently knead his brother’s balls while Sam rode out the last shudders of his orgasm, pupils blown wide, a lazy smirk of bliss stretching the corners of his mouth upwards.
“Fuckin’ A,” Dean muttered. He felt almost dizzy, euphoric, and couldn’t help a grin of his own.
Dean took a long, deep breath, trying to bring his pounding heart rate back under control as he eyed his brother, who had gone completely limp in his arms. They clung to each other for a few more heartbeats and then reluctantly broke apart, each turning slightly to adjust their clothing in the dimly lit parking lot, aware that while they’d been lucky enough to have privacy so far, the odds were against it lasting for much longer.
Dean grabbed a rag from the backseat of the Impala and tossed it to Sam, who used it to clean himself off before he bent down to grab his pants.
Sam hauled them back up, careful to ease the coarse denim up over his scalding ass, nevertheless grimacing when fabric met abused skin. Dean tucked himself back into his jeans with a grunt and zipped up, then retrieved his belt from the ground. Instead of putting it back on, he just coiled it up and held onto it.
He glanced over to Sam who stood in the shadows near the Impala’s hood, quiet, head down, lower lip captured between his teeth.
Dean frowned. “You okay, there?” he questioned softly.
Sam snorted and threw a wide sloppy grin at Dean, teeth glowing white in the moonlight.
“Dude, I just got my ass whipped and then fucked six ways from Sunday in the parking lot of some redneck bar, and you’re asking if I’m okay? Seriously?” Sam shook his head, chuckling tiredly. “What do you think, you jerk?”
“I think you better watch your mouth, bitch, unless you want a repeat performance,” Dean said, his tone far less intimidating than the words suggested. He quirked a brow at Sam, raising the coiled belt in his hand and Sam had the decency to blush and offer up a shy smile. “C’mon, let’s get the hell outta here,” Dean said.
Dean headed for the driver’s side door, stopping to pat Sam’s face affectionately along the way, all the rage and resentment gone, banished.
He grabbed the door handle and grinned at Sam over his shoulder. “I’m hungry and somewhere out there,” he nodded toward the empty road, “is a pie with my name on it.”
And just like that, Sam knew things were back to normal between them.
Dean would crack jokes as he drove and Sam would roll his eyes. They’d argue over which diner to stop at, whether to pay for their meal with cash or a fake credit card, then Sam would Google the directions to the nearest motel on his Blackberry while Dean bitched about the lack of decent nightlife diversions in the town.
Later, they’d share a bed in some musty smelling fleabag motel just off the main strip, cuddling, hands slowly roaming over one another’s naked bodies, legs tangled together, sheets twisted as the TV played in the background. Its white noise would soothe both brothers to sleep, Dean spooned protectively around Sam once again, nose buried in Sam’s hair, warm breath fluttering over his nape, and Sam’s fingers would be entwined in Dean’s, both hands clutched over Sam’s heart.
“Pie, huh?” Sam said as he folded himself into the front seat of the Impala, letting out a grunt of pain. He shifted, trying to take some of the weight off his tender ass while ignoring Dean’s smirk of amusement. “I guess I’m buying?” he questioned tartly.
“Damn straight,” Dean replied, putting the Impala in gear, gunning the engine and heading for the road. He cocked his head at Sam, grinning wide and Sam ducked his head laughing softly at the silly pleased look on Dean’s face.
It felt good to be back to, what for the Winchester brothers, constituted normal, Sam thought.
THE END
State Highway 91
Corn. Lots of it. Miles and miles of tall swaying corn stalks, as far as the eye could see. They flooded past the windows of the Impala lining either side of the flat expanse of dusty county road, making Sam feel as if he were traveling through a never-ending tunnel of green and gold. It was starting to give him a headache.
Heaving a weary sigh, Sam nevertheless continued to gaze out at the darkening fields, his eyes struggling to recognize patterns in the bars of shadow and light that played past his line of vision. There really wasn’t much else to do. His books and laptop were in the trunk, and every time he tried to turn on the radio, just for some noise, Dean would reach down with an irritated hmmph and shut it right back off.
So, staring out the window at the unchanging landscape became the highlight of the trip, whether Sam liked it or not. This, he noted dryly, was sort of the ongoing theme lately in his life. Nobody seemed to give a flying fuck what he wanted or thought these days, least of all, his brother Dean.
Another dejected sigh escaped Sam’s pursed lips as he absently watched the day’s last bit of sunlight slowly skim across the acres of corn, the brilliant rays catching the silken tassels at the tops of the stalks, creating a glowing corona about each one. Sam might have considered the scene rather majestic looking, if he actually gave a crap, but he didn’t. He had other things pressing on his mind at the moment; things that made enjoying the natural beauty of a Nebraska cornfield seem utterly frivolous and inconsequential.
He and Dean had booked it out of Bedford, Iowa over two days ago, after saying their goodbyes to Bobby just outside of town, and as much as they’d told Bobby that they were okay and that the job hadn’t gotten to them this time, Sam knew it was a big fat lie. Dean had barely spoken to him since then.
Two nights of sleeping alone in random motel beds, staring longingly at the broad span of Dean’s back as his brother slept in the bed across from him only drove the point home.
They usually got a room with one queen size bed, so that they could share their warmth, snuggling up to one another, Dean spooning Sam, and Sam feeling safe in Dean’s arms, but not anymore. Ever since Iowa, it had been separate beds and Dean changing in the bathroom, the sudden need for privacy sending a not so subtle message to Sam.
The silence now sat oppressively between the two of them in the front seat of the Impala, making the brief respites of constrained small talk and fake smiles as they’d stopped at various diners or gas stations seem like a blessing. Two and a half days of silent monotony along their route to…where? Sam didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask Dean. Not that his brother would tell him.
Besides, Sam had the feeling that Dean was just driving for the sake of keeping busy, that there really was no destination. Dean just didn’t want to stop for any length of time because stopping meant the two of them would actually have to talk and discuss things, and by things, Sam meant all the stupid shit that had happened with that siren back in Iowa.
He had hurt Dean. Badly. Sam knew it and regretted it more than anything. The things he’d said under the siren’s influence still rang harshly in Sam’s ears, taunting him. He’d gutted Dean with those words:
Because you’re too weak to go after her, Dean. You’re holding me back. I’m a better hunter than you are. Stronger, smarter; I can take out demons you’re too scared to go near. You’re too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, whining about all the souls you tortured in hell, boo-hoo.
Sam winced, remembering the way Dean’s eyes had gone dead after that. God, he couldn’t have been any crueler if he’d wanted to. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sam had followed it up with betrayal of the worst kind. Sleeping with Cara, the doctor at the hospital, and then lying to Dean about Ruby, letting Dean think he was fucking her behind Dean’s back as well.
Better that than the ugly truth, Sam tried to reason. Either way, he’d messed things up royally with his brother and it frightened him to think that this time, it might be beyond repair. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, his gaze nervously traveling across the leather seat over to his brother.
Dean’s eyes were focused solely on the windshield and the unwavering ribbon of blacktop directly in front of them, as if nothing else existed. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly enough that Sam knew Dean’s fingers would be stiff and sore later.
“Dean,” Sam tried once again. “Man, c’mon…”
He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, but Dean suddenly yanking the wheel hard to the right definitely hadn’t been in the plan. The Impala’s V-8 engine roared, the big black monster skidding into the turn, tires skipping for purchase on the dirt road they’d just turned off onto from the main county highway.
Unprepared for the sudden detour, Sam slid hard into his door, swearing loudly as the handle dug painfully into his ribs. He managed to right himself on the seat and then braced his hands against the dashboard, gripping hard, white knuckled, waiting a moment until Dean had the car under control again before attempting to question him.
He released his hold on the dash and turned on the bench seat to face his brother. “Jesus, Dean! What the hell -”
“Need to take a leak,” Dean muttered, never once looking away from the road.
Sam couldn’t help but find amusement in that. Seriously, if his brother had really needed to take a piss as badly as he’d just indicated, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t just pull over and go somewhere on the side of the deserted road like he’d done a million times before. Even so, Sam let Dean have his little passive-aggressive victory.
He gave a silent nod and settled back in his seat to face forward once again. He stared out the windshield at the monotonous scenery, lost in thought.
There wasn’t much in the way of roadside stops Sam quickly realized. The specific part of Nebraska they were driving through was populated mostly by acres of farmland interspersed with patches of flat nothingness. Nevertheless, Dean drove on determinedly, a man on a mission. To pee, apparently.
Evening shadows were crawling across the hood of the Impala when they finally pulled into a half-empty dirt lot, fronting a seedy no-name bar. It was the first public place they had happened upon that looked even remotely inhabited.
The building was small, one-storey and gave the appearance of having been cobbled together from leftover cinderblocks and planks salvaged from a barn fire. The owner had attempted to brighten up the façade by stapling rows of mismatched blinking Christmas lights around the door and windows. As they got closer to the building, Sam noted that more than half the bulbs were either burnt out or broken.
He glanced out the windshield, peering at the rusted tin sign hanging over the dilapidated screen door of the place. It announced simply: COLD BEER. It looked like someone with a shotgun had used it for target practice, the metal liberally dimpled with pockmarks.
Nice place, Sam thought. The burnt out wreckage of Harvelle’s Roadhouse would have been a step up compared to this dump. He shuddered, grimacing at the building in front of him, his lip curling in distaste. His brother should have taken his chances on the side of the road. If it was this bad on the outside, God only knew what condition the restrooms would be in.
Dean stopped the car a few yards from the building, pulling into a parking space at the far edge of the lot, preferring the nearness of the open road and a fast getaway to the ease of a shorter walk to the front door. He threw the Impala into park, slinging his door open practically before he’d even turned off the engine.
Sam was reaching for his own door handle, when he was brought up short by Dean’s caustic tone.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Dean eyed Sam over his shoulder.
Sam frowned, offering up an unsure smile. “Um, inside? You said you needed the bathroom.”
“Yeah, I do. And I don’t need your help with that, Sam,” Dean stated. His stony look added a bite to the words.
He slid out of the car, slamming the door harder than he needed to, and stalked off toward the bar without so much as a glance back towards Sam or the car.
Sam let out a gloomy huff of exasperation as he watched his brother disappear into the building, trying to ignore the dull ache of his heart at being so easily dismissed and forgotten. Shutting his eyes in resignation, he slumped down in his seat, knees pressed tightly against the dashboard to wait. He let his head fall back against the headrest and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, absently wondering how things could possibly get any worse between him and his brother.
The sharp rap on the window next to Sam’s head jolted him out of his musings, startling him enough that he actually flinched. Another rap on the glass had Sam turning hastily toward the intrusion, a look of petulant annoyance on his face. His annoyance quickly evaporated when he caught site of the person standing outside the car. He groaned.
“You mind?” Ruby asked tartly. She nodded at the locked rear passenger door.
Sam stared at her for a moment, not fully believing what he was seeing, until Ruby cocked her hip and arched a brow at him, her gaze flicking from Sam’s bewildered expression down to the locked door in front of her and back to Sam again.
Sam couldn’t resist an eye roll, however, he reached back to unlock the door, glancing out the windshield for any sign of his brother as Ruby climbed into the back seat of the Impala. If Dean knew she was here, there’d be hell to pay and then some. Sam had no doubt that Dean would literally shit a brick over seeing the two of them together, and then he’d take that brick and start beating people to death with it, beginning with Sam.
Sam refused to turn around in his seat to meet Ruby’s look, choosing instead to glare at the brunette through the rear view mirror. He was drained, mentally and emotionally, and he didn’t feel like wasting time playing guessing games with her.
“What are you doing here, Ruby?” Sam asked tiredly.
“I’ve missed you, Sam.”
Their eyes met in the mirror and Ruby gave Sam a covert smirk as if knowing her presence there was only going to stir up more trouble for Sam. Not that she seemed to care, Sam noted. Ruby was long past giving a shit about keeping Dean placated for the sake of the brothers’ relationship.
Sam knew he shouldn’t have let her into the car. He knew it would piss Dean off royally, especially when Dean was already under the impression that he was losing Sam’s affection to her. It was petty and childish, he knew, but Sam felt a faint prickle of excitement at the prospect of doing something Dean had all but forbidden him to do, at being able to pluck at Dean’s jealousy in retaliation for the past few days of being caged up with his brother’s bottled emotions.
Conversation, even with a demon that appeared to be bent on dragging him over to the dark side, somehow seemed more palatable than putting up with one more night of Dean’s brooding, spiteful demeanor.
With a resigned sigh, Sam rotated on the seat to meet Ruby’s gaze face-to-face, but was stopped when, like a sensuous cat, Ruby draped herself over the front seat, snaking her arms around Sam’s shoulders to rest her hands possessively on Sam’s chest. The heat from her palms branded Sam’s skin through the two layers of shirts he wore and sent a wave of goosebumps across his skin.
Ruby’s dark curls tickled Sam’s cheek as she leaned in close, her breath warm and inviting. “Don’t you miss me?” she questioned softly, her glossed lips almost touching the shell of Sam’s ear.
Sam shivered, swallowing hard. He could smell her. Her blood. And it smelled…oh God, it smelled so good. Sam shifted uncomfortably on his seat, licking his dry lips.
This is so fucked up, he thought miserably. Dean thought he wanted Ruby, but Dean was wrong. Dead wrong.
Sam wanted Dean. Had always wanted him. Longed for his big brother in the worst way, ever since his hormones had come into play as a teenager, and Dean had never denied Sam that love until now. Even so, Sam would never desire Ruby the way he did Dean.
But, Ruby’s blood? Well, that was a different story, Sam admitted shamefully. That he craved. Hungered for it, as a matter of fact, like some strung-out loser junkie. Sam hated the way Ruby could make him feel so out of control because of it and yet he found it next to impossible not to succumb.
“You haven’t been returning my calls the past couple days, Sam,” Ruby said. She pouted, and stroked Sam’s cheek, gently trailing her fingers down the angular plane of his face to his clenched jaw. “A girl might think you don’t care about her anymore…”
Sam clamped his lower lip between his teeth, shaking from the effort of resisting the temptation Ruby presented. He needed to stop. Had to stop because despite what he may have felt earlier, hurting Dean wasn’t what he really wanted, not really. Being without his brother, having that love withheld, was slowly killing Sam. All the lies and secrets he was keeping from the one person he loved the most in the world weren’t worth shit if Dean decided it was too much to deal with and just walked away.
“You need to leave,” Sam managed to grit out between his clenched teeth.
Ruby laughed and thrust her perfumed wrist up under Sam’s nose. Her cocky smile widened when she heard Sam softly moan, and her eyes changed, the whites swallowed up by the inky blackness of her demon side surfacing.
“You know you want it, Sam,” she crooned, licking the edge of his earlobe with the velvet tip of her tongue. Sam shuddered, his breath hitching. “It’s okay. It’ll make you feel better. It’s what you need,” she coaxed.
Sam reached up with shaking hands to grasp Ruby’s forearm tightly, not sure at first whether he was going to shove the appendage away or bring it up to his mouth where he could take advantage of her offer by sinking his teeth into her wrist and feeding on the warm saltiness of her blood. He never got a chance to make the decision because, just then, the rear passenger door of the Impala flew wide open.
One minute Ruby was wrapped around him, enticing him, and the next, she was being yanked out of the car by the roots of her hair, her startled yelps of rage filling the balmy evening air.
Sam’s gaze immediately darted to the window next to him. Nose and hands pressed up against the glass, he looked like a little kid goggling at the puppies in the front window of a pet store. He stared, eyes impossibly wide and mouth agape, at his brother and Ruby as they struggled just outside the car.
Dean’s fingers were buried deep in Ruby’s long, dark hair, gripping it tightly as he roughly hauled her backwards, out and away from the Impala. Ruby’s boot heels scraped twin grooves in the gravel of the parking lot as she kicked and flailed, trying to pull loose from the angry hunter’s grasp, but Dean had no intention of letting her go just yet.
The car window began to fog up from the short rapid breaths escaping from Sam’s nose and mouth, and his view became temporarily obstructed. It was just enough of a distraction to snap Sam out of bystander mode and into action. He shoved open his door, getting ready to break up the fight. If he could just get Dean and Ruby separated, then maybe, just maybe, no one would die tonight.
“Sam!” Dean’s throaty growl assaulted Sam before he could even put foot to pavement. “Stay the fuck in the car if you know what’s good for you!” he bellowed.
Sam froze, one foot still in the car and the other one dangling over the ground outside, the toe of his shoe less than an inch from the gravel. His worried gaze traveled from Ruby struggling desperately to free herself back to Dean, who was leveling a black glare at Sam, daring him to disobey.
Sam’s brows scrunched together, mind racing, as he vacillated between following Dean’s order and doing what his conscious told him. In the end, Dean made his mind up for him.
“Sammy,” Dean barked. His voice rumbled from the depths of his chest, low and dangerous, like a verbal thunderstorm.
It vividly reminded Sam of their father’s angry tone when he was about to beat one of their asses for misbehaving one too many times, and Sam reacted on pure instinct. He quietly shut the car door and shrank back against the seat in mute distress.
“Let go of me, you cocksucker!” Ruby shrieked. She clawed at the parts of Dean’s wrists she could reach.
Dean let go with his right hand and swung the demon around to face him, a nasty sneer darkening his features.
“I’d be careful who you call a cocksucker, sweetheart,” he snarled. “Kinda the pot calling the kettle black, don’tcha think?”
He yanked back hard on the hair at Ruby’s nape until her chin pointed towards the star-filled sky. If he’d had the special knife on him, he’d have used it right then, slicing her throat to the bone.
Ruby sensed the raw hatred pouring off Dean and she managed a low chuckle at his inability to control his emotions when it came to his little brother.
“What’sa matter, Dean? Afraid you’ll never be enough to satisfy Sammy?” she challenged.
Dean didn’t reply but Ruby could tell that the jibe had hurt him by the way the hunter’s jaw muscle was clenched so tight it twitched.
Her lips curved up into a treacherous smile. “You’ll never be able to give him what he truly needs,” she taunted further. “He’s growing away from you, Dean, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“That so?” Dean asked, stiffly. “Well, there is one thing I can do,” he said as he smiled coldly at her.
Ruby shot him a questioning look.
Dean cocked his right arm back, the hand balling into a compact fist. “Say goodnight, Gracie,” he grunted and then swung hard.
The punch was solid, nailing Ruby in the mouth and rocking her head back, her eyes rolling up in her skull. She let out a wet gasp as her bottom teeth shredded her lips and bloodied Dean’s knuckles. Dean let go of Ruby, watching as her dead weight carried her to the ground where she crumpled into a limp heap, out cold.
“God, that felt good,” Dean muttered as he wiped his bloody hand off on the thigh of his jeans.
He grimaced as he flexed his sore hand a few times, checking to make sure there were no broken bones. Reassured that the hand was in relatively decent shape, Dean chanced a look up and across the asphalt to his car to ensure that Sam was still planted in the front seat as Dean had ordered. He smiled darkly at his brother.
Sam shrank back from the car window at the heated look Dean was giving him. His stomach fluttered at the mixed signals he was getting.
That’s either a We’re done being brothers look or an I’m gonna salt and burn your ass and then fuck you into the mattress so hard you won’t be able to walk straight for a week look, Sam nervously noted. One was certain death and the other meant…well, it meant Sam might just get laid that night. Sam’s heart jittered crazily in his chest at the possibility.
Dean strode toward the Impala with such a focused intensity to his manner that Sam was immediately reminded of a crazed serial killer in one of those cheesy B-grade horror movies Dean loved watching on TV. His brother’s eyes glinted black and unyielding, and he looked as if he would rip the door right off the frame of the car to get at Sam and tear him limb from limb, all the while laughing maniacally as Sam’s blood spattered wetly across the inside of the Impala.
Sam quickly rethought the possibility of hot sweaty sex in his near future, and with a tight whimper, he slammed all the locks down on the car doors, thereby shutting Dean out. Just until Dean cooled down, Sam reasoned.
Dean stopped in his tracks and watched his brother with a bemused smirk on his lips. Sam glanced at Dean, noted the absence of worry on his brother’s face and swiftly let his eyes fall to his hands knotted in his lap, suddenly completely unsure of himself and wondering when things had gotten so far out of control.
Dean stood there a few more heartbeats and then, with a smug grin still ghosting over his face, he continued on towards the car at a more casual pace, a hunter stalking his cornered prey.
He ambled around the front of the Impala, boots crunching through the gravel, and over to the driver’s side door, his earlier anger hiding behind a thin veneer of self-control and long-practiced confidence. Dean bent down, eyes hooded, head ducked low, so that he could peer through the driver’s side window and across the seat at Sam.
Dean’s voice, though muffled by the glass, sounded no less imposing. “Sam,” he growled, and Sam jumped, looking up once again. “Unlock the damn doors before I beat your ass.”
Typical Dean, Sam thought, direct and to the point.
Sam’s eyes traveled helplessly over to the side mirror, looking for Ruby. Why he wasn’t quite sure, maybe for moral support, maybe hoping she’d come save him. It didn’t matter. She was already gone, leaving Sam to deal with the situation on his own.
Sam turned back to Dean, giving him a pleading look. “Dean, you need to calm d-”
“Don’t tell me to calm down, Sam!” Dean snapped. “I’m not even gone five freaking minutes, and you summon that skank h -”
“I didn’t summon her,” Sam protested.
“Stop lying to me!”
“I’m not lying! Sh-she showed up on her own,” Sam insisted.
Dean wasn’t buying it.
“So…what? She just shows up, out of the blue … in the middle of nowhere? Why, Sam?” Dean flung an arm back toward the rundown bar behind him, his tone mocking. “Cause she heard about the happy hour special on Pabst here and just couldn’t pass it up?”
Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean continued, the scowl on his face deepening. “Or maybe, Sam, just maybe, you were feeling lonely for your BFF and decided to have a little play date since you weren’t getting any from me, and of course, good old Ruby wasn’t gonna turn that down now, was she?” Dean snarled. He slammed a fist down on the top of the Impala. “You and that hell bitch - in MY car, dammit!”
Sam’s cheeks reddened. “We weren’t doing anything in your stupid, car, Jesus -”
“Really?” Dean huffed, cutting him off. “‘Cause I know what I saw, Sam, and you pretty much looked like you were gettin’ ready to drive Miss Daisy!”
Sam carefully let out a frustrated breath and turned to glare right back at Dean. His eyes were two bright green flames of resentment flickering in the deepening shadows.
“Funny time to get all jealous on me now,” he spat, letting out a harsh snort of contempt. “What do you fucking care anymore anyway?”
“S’cuse me?” Dean’s voice was calm, despite the fact that his brows nearly shot off his forehead.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam continued, nodding, more for his own benefit than for Dean’s. “You haven’t spoken to me since Bedford, Dean. Three. Days. Ago. Nothing, other than a few grunts or barked out orders.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. He fixed an angry bitter glare on the older Winchester. “And as for sex?” He gave a short angry laugh. “Well, I’ve pretty much given up on ever having that with you again, so I guess I might as well fuck a demon. Hell, at least she was willing,” he added tartly.
Dean’s face remained disturbingly neutral as he silently stared at Sam, unblinking, through the window, the only noise being the eerie buzz-click sound of cicadas in the nearby fields surrounding the parking lot.
The unnatural stillness made Sam feel like the apocalypse had come early and they were now the only two left on Earth. No one went into or came out of the bar. No cars passed on the road out front nor were there any other sounds one would normally associate with an oncoming Midwestern spring evening.
Sam felt a strong shiver crawl over his body, the sensation all the more unsettling because he knew that if he touched his skin at that very moment, it would feel feverishly hot under his hand, rather than cold.
“Dude, last chance,” Dean finally spoke, his voice calm yet full of restrained rage. He grabbed the door handle in front of him and gave it a little shake.
“Not ‘til you chill out,” Sam demanded, crossing his arms up over his chest.
Despite feeling somewhat intimidated by his brother, Sam was still annoyed enough to ignore the implicit warning Dean gave him. He knew what baiting his brother would do. Knew it and didn’t care. Dean was finally speaking to him again. Looking at him.
“I’m not kidding around, Sammy,” Dean said, his eyes narrowing. “Open this door right the fuck now, or I swear, you’re gonna be sleeping on your belly tonight, and not for the reasons you might think.”
Sam snorted. “Oh yeah? And what reasons are those?”
“You think I haven’t been payin’ enough attention to you lately, Sam? Think you need to go elsewhere? Settle for that demon bitch to get what you need?”
“How would you know what I need?” Sam snapped. He threw Dean a sour look.
Dean’s smile turned blacker than pitch. “Oh trust me, little brother, I know exactly what you need. And while it does involve your ass in the process,” here, Dean’s smirk grew ugly, “It’ll be my belt doing all the work, not my dick.”
Sam felt a flush bloom across his cheeks and then his blood suddenly rushed southward, balls tingling in anticipation. He let out a shaky laugh. “You’re bluffing,” he whispered.
Dean’s frosty glare said otherwise. “Sam,” he growled. “The door. Now!”
Dean struck the heel of his palm against the window, the loud slap sending a reverberating jolt throughout Sam’s entire body, setting him on fire. Angry, jealous Dean sort of turned him on, although they were usually naked, breathing hard and in a motel bed somewhere by this point. That brought a sly smile to Sam’s face. Throwing caution to the wind, he decided to up the ante.
“Make me,” Sam challenged. He was somewhat surprised by his open defiance, but then again, the doors were locked. What else could Dean do but play Sam’s game?
Dean sighed, shaking his head sadly. It wasn’t the response Sam had expected, nevertheless, his expression remain unchanged as he grinned smugly at Dean. His game, his rules.
“Always gotta do things the hard way, don’t you, Sammy?” Dean said. He shrugged, gave his brother a nasty little smile and held up the car keys, jingling them in front of the window.
Sam’s face fell instantly. “Well…fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
Sam and Dean moved simultaneously, Sam launching himself at his door while Dean scrambled frantically to get the key in the lock and get into the car before Sam could escape.
Sam’s fingers scrabbled at his door lock, yanking it up with such mad desperation that he almost tore a fingernail clean off in the process. Heart thudding in his chest, he shouldered the door open hard at the same time he heard the door across from him creaking open. He made it halfway out of the Impala before he felt Dean’s fingers snag and catch hold of the waistband of his jeans.
Sam let out a bleat of panic.
Dean reeled in his struggling brother, a tight smile etched on his face. “C’mere you little shit,” he growled.
Faster than he’d anticipated, Sam found himself face down over the hood of the Impala, his left arm securely wedged against the small of his back keeping him in place, the strain on his muscles just short of being painful.
Sam tried to inject a little playfulness into the situation. “Been working out lately?” he inquired.
In reply, Dean let his full weight drop down over top of Sam, his stomach and chest molded against the long fluid line of Sam’s back and ass, lean muscled thighs pressed tightly up against Sam’s, crowding the younger man, pinning him heavily to the dark metal underneath him.
It swiftly became apparent to Sam that Dean was still angry and wasn’t in the mood for games just yet. Dean’s breath was hot against Sam’s temple, lips brushing at the soft wisps of Sam’s bangs.
“For your sake, Sammy, you better hope I haven’t been working out,” Dean purred, “‘cause I’m about to beat the shit outta your stubborn, slutty little ass. Right here. Right now.”
Dean reached down between their bodies to stroke the curve of Sam’s ass through the coarse denim of his jeans, stopping to cup and then squeeze his brother’s right butt cheek. He gave it a light slap, a pale hint of what was to come.
Sam whimpered softly and Dean’s smile hardened.
“Is that what you want, Sammy? Hmm? That what you were angling for?” Dean teased. He returned to rubbing his palm roughly over Sam’s jutting ass. “Me whipping your ass ‘til it’s all red and raw? Marking you? Showing you who’s boss?”
Sam moaned, his eyes darkening with lust. He let out a startled grunt when Dean’s palm unexpectedly connected with his ass, hard this time, the sting stirring up a delicious curl of heat in his belly. Dean’s hand rose and fell several more times in quick succession, branding Sam’s ass. The muffled slaps rang in Sam’s ears, sending his heart racing and his blood pounding.
“What if someone comes out and sees us?” Sam finally gasped, craning his head up to look over towards the bar in hesitation. He felt Dean shrug against him.
“Shoulda thought of that before you decided to play keep away in my car,” Dean replied. He let out a cold chuckle. “You wanted my attention, Sam? Well, you got it, in spades.”
Sam let out a petulant whine when he felt Dean lift off him, the echo of warmth from his brother’s body rapidly dissipating in the cool evening air, but no sooner did he mourn its loss than Dean’s arms were back, hands sliding possessively up underneath both layers of his shirts, rucking the fabric up under Sam’s armpits to bare his torso to the night.
“Mine,” Dean stated tersely.
Sam felt Dean’s palms raking over the skin of his back just above the waistband of his jeans, thumbs brushing over the knobs of his lower spine before they circled around to his waist, fingers heatedly grazing over his ribs, pulling a low moan from Sam. They traveled further around, to Sam’s stomach, calloused fingers stroking across muscled abs before they slid down lower to the front of Sam’s jeans.
Sam was shaking by the time Dean took hold of Sam’s belt buckle and began to undo it. Sam couldn’t control himself any longer. He wriggled in anticipation, jerking Dean’s fingers from their task in the process.
With a low growl, Dean delivered a punishing slap to Sam’s flank. “Settle down,” he warned.
Sam instantly complied, letting out another imploring moan to indicate that Dean had his undivided attention now.
Dean snorted, shaking his head, the corners of his mouth tilting up a bit. “You and your pain kink, Sammy,” he murmured huskily.
Dean returned his attention to Sam’s belt, and getting that undone without further interruption, he grabbed the zipper of Sam’s jeans, letting his fingers brush purposely against the obvious bulge underneath, causing Sam to gasp and bite his bottom lip, hard.
Dean grew serious. “Like I said earlier, I ain’t playin’ around this time, little brother. I’m gonna teach you a hard, painful lesson.”
“Long as we end up back to the way it used to be, I don’t care,” Sam declared, his throat tightening. “I just want you back, Dean,” he rasped.
“I’m not the one that keeps leaving,” Dean’s voice was a harsh whisper in Sam’s ear. He yanked Sam’s zipper down hard and then stood back from his brother. “Get ‘em down, Sam,” Dean commanded. “Boxers too.”
Sam stood up and slowly turned around to face his brother. Dean’s hooded eyes moved lazily down Sam’s torso, stopping at his crotch and Sam licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. The tiny smirk playing on Dean’s lips did nothing to calm Sam’s nerves or his libido. Quite the opposite, in fact, as his heart began trip hammering even harder in his chest.
Sam swallowed, forcing his feverish eyes to lock with Dean’s. His brother’s heated gaze let Sam know that he’d be forgiven tonight, but he’d have to offer up some penance first.
Wordless, Sam shoved his jeans and underwear down over the carved angles of his hips, letting gravity slide the clothing the rest of the way to the ground. His cock jutted up against his stomach, rock hard, a glisten of pre-cum at the tip.
Grabbing Sam’s arm just above his elbow, Dean swung Sam back around towards the hood of the car. Sam stumbled a little, feet twisting as they got caught in the jumble of his jeans, but Dean’s firm hold kept him from doing a face plant into the gravel. He let his brother wrestle him back down over the hood, the cool metal a shock against the raging heat of his bared groin.
Sam shivered, goose bumps rising all across the flesh of his thighs and ass.
“Hands on the hood, Sam,” Dean ordered.
Sam complied, placing his shaking hands, palms down, onto the Impala. Dean came up behind him and used his foot to roughly nudge Sam’s feet apart as wide as the jeans around his brother’s ankles would allow.
Sam heard the clink of metal as Dean undid his belt, followed by the soft scrape of leather against denim as Dean pulled his belt from the loops of his jeans. He remained bent over the hood of the Impala waiting, quiet and obedient. This was Dean’s game now.
He didn’t have to wait long. The whoosh of the belt filled Sam’s ears, sending a jolt of electricity straight to his dick, and then he felt the stripe of white heat slice across his naked ass. He sucked in air through clenched teeth, face scrunching up in pain.
Dean drew back and let fly again, the belt cracking down over the roundest part of Sam’s butt this time, leaving a wide red slash in its wake. Sam gasped as he was jolted forward a bit from the impact. His fingers curled, searching for something to grip to help ride out the burning sting but there was only the smooth glossy expanse of the hood under his touch.
“You wanted to hurt me, Sam? To piss me off? Make me jealous?” Dean questioned. He continued to assault Sam’s ass with his belt. “Well good job, dude. You get a gold star. Mission accomplished.”
The next smack of the belt caught the tender crease of Sam’s butt where it met his thighs, and Sam cried out, his ass on fire. He jerked his head around to stare at Dean with wide bright eyes.
“M’sorry,” Sam choked. “Dean, please.”
“Please what?” Dean barked.
“Please. Punish me,” Sam begged. His subdued tone matched the earnest look in his glistening eyes before he turned back to face the car, bare ass pushed out suggestively and head dipping low in submission.
Dean felt his dick instantly engorge, tenting out the front of his jeans.
He stared for a long hard moment at Sam’s bowed back, his eyes dilating with hunger, a growing tingle spreading through his balls. This was his brother, his Sam, surrendering fully to him.
Dean raked his gaze down towards his brother’s naked clenched ass, the supple skin no longer silver-pale in the moonlight but tinged now a blushing pink.
“Please,” Sam repeated in a breathless moan, and Dean almost came right then in his pants.
“Anything you want, Sammy,” Dean whispered roughly. He raised the belt high over his shoulder.
Sam embraced the pain, rode it, let it wash over him in searing waves that drove away the guilt he’d been carrying and sent his nerve endings dancing. It was more than just the sensation of leather punishing skin, of heat building in a pleasure/pain crescendo that exploded over him and through him, making him cry out and tremble. It was so much more than that. It was Dean forgiving him and taking him back.
By the time Dean laid the final stroke down across Sam’s bare ass, Sam was whimpering incoherently and Dean was rock hard and panting from his efforts.
“Damn, Sammy,” he whispered. Dean’s hand fell open, dropping the belt to the ground, as he took a step towards the younger man, eyes losing their hardened glint.
He reached out and ran a gentle hand over the smoldering latticework of crimson welts now decorating Sam’s ass. Sam hissed loudly, his back arching, the soft caress feeling like sandpaper grating against his sore, bruised skin.
“You happy now?” Dean whispered, his voice raw, choked.
“Yes,” Sam gasped, and Dean let out a short, pained laugh of disbelief.
Despite the throbbing ache, Sam pressed his sore ass up into his brother’s palm, wanting the connection, needing to feel Dean’s hands on him. “M’sorry, Dean. So sorry,” Sam said tiredly, sniffling and wiping his eyes on his shirtsleeve.
He let his forehead rest against the hood of the Impala, sighing as the cool metal drew the heat from his brow.
“Please don’t leave me,” Sam blurted out, his voice muffled as he spoke into the hood of the car.
“Not goin’ anywhere, Sammy,” Dean huskily replied.
Sam suddenly became aware of Dean’s rock hard cock pressing urgently against his left hip, the roughness of his brother’s jeans re-igniting the fire in his aching ass. He trembled, biting back a groan of pain, breath hitching in excitement.
Dean leaned in, rubbing his hard length up and down his brother, rutting against Sam’s thigh. “See what you do to me?” he murmured. He gripped Sam’s hips, hands rough and possessive, bruising the skin underneath his fingertips.
Sam moaned out his brother’s name between clenched teeth, eyes squeezing tightly shut. The raw agony of his backside competed for attention with the raging lust Dean had stoked in his groin. He shamelessly ground down against the hood of the car to gain some relief from his throbbing, leaking dick.
“Deeean,” Sam moaned, his voice low, almost guttural, as he continued to squirm, rubbing himself against the Impala. “Dean, need to…”
Not able to stand it any longer, Sam wormed a hand down between himself and the hood, clutching at his painful erection, needing some sort of contact other than the hard, indifferent metal of the car.
A whine of frustration escaped his lips when Dean captured his hand and pulled it back out from beneath him. Dean placed Sam’s hand firmly back onto the hood again, his own warm hand engulfing Sam’s and giving it a squeeze before moving down to encircle Sam’s wrist to keep it in place.
“I’m not done punishing you yet, Sam,” Dean said.
Sam’s whimper was cut short by Dean’s lips pressing over the pulse point at the side of his throat. Dean sucked a bruise into the skin there and then smiled against his brother’s neck at the little jitter he felt as Sam’s heartbeat quickened.
“Gonna fuck you good and hard now, Sammy,” Dean announced matter-of-factly.
He used his free hand to unbutton and unzip himself, tugging his fly open as he laid another kiss against Sam’s exposed neck, then slowly moved, biting and sucking his way down to Sam’s collarbone, relishing the little shudders and shivers his tongue and teeth aroused in his brother.
“Fuck you ‘til you understand,” Dean murmured. “Fuck you ‘til you know, KNOW, Sam that you’re MINE and nobody else’s.”
He released Sam’s wrist a moment to use both his hands to yank down his own pants and boxers, finally freeing his thick angry cock. Dean stroked it once, twice, and grinned as his dick grew even harder from the attention.
“You better pray you have some lube on you, Sammy,” Dean snarled, “”Cause I know I don’t, and I ain’t in the mood to go searching for some right now.” He played with his cock some more, watching it twitch and pulse, heavy in his hand. “What’s it gonna be? Smooth and easy or rough and painful?”
“Front jeans pocket, right side,” Sam whispered hoarsely.
Dean snorted, clearly entertained. “Jerking off a lot, I take it?” he asked.
“Not like I’ve been getting any help in that arena lately,” Sam acidly replied.
He yelped loudly when Dean smacked his already scorched ass, once hard.
“You really wanna go down that road right now, Sam?” Dean questioned, his tone full of warning.
Sam clammed back up. While he enjoyed being spanked by his big brother, was even turned on by it, there was a limit to what his ass could endure in a single night, and he’d pretty much reached it with the belt whipping he’d just taken.
Satisfied that he’d put Sam in his place for the moment and wanting to get on with his plan to fuck his little brother senseless, Dean crouched down behind Sam and reached around the younger man’s spread legs to dig a hand into the indicated pocket. He found the small packet easily enough and stood back up, tearing it open with his teeth before pouring some of the lube into his cupped hand.
Dean liberally coated his hard-on with lube from the thick base to the leaking tip and then leaned back down across Sam again, his slick fingers probing the younger man’s ass crack, spreading Sam open to lightly tease and finger his tight bud.
Sam mewled, the coolness of the lube and the insistent pressure of Dean’s fingers sending all rational thought from his mind. He shifted against the side of the Impala impatiently, wanting Dean inside of him, wanting his brother’s cock sliding in and out of his ass.
As if reading his mind, Dean pressed his throbbing length up against Sam, riding Sam’s ass crack until Sam’s breath came in harsh pants.
“This what you want, Sam?” Dean asked.
Sam’s answer was a desperate groan and the hitch of his hips as he tried to shove himself backwards onto Dean’s dick.
“Nuh uh, Sammy. My rules, my way,” Dean stated.
He took hold of Sam’s hips, raking a thumbnail over a welt on Sam’s smarting ass, applying firm pressure, letting Sam know who was in control. Sam squeaked at the brief flare of pain, then quickly settled, but not without a frustrated sigh thrown over his shoulder at Dean.
Dean smiled to himself. Kid couldn’t not be a brat, even when he was about to get the fucking of his life.
With one hand, Dean guided the swollen tip of his cock to Sam’s slick hole and then without warning, he shoved in, slow and steady, until he was balls deep inside his brother, his groin pressed tightly against the heat of Sam’s freshly spanked ass.
Sam keened loudly at the sudden burn and Dean capitulated by pulling almost all of the way out, barely breeching Sam’s tight muscle, before gentling himself back in with a few shallow thrusts until Sam relaxed a little under him. Dean then slowly advanced once more, each thrust a little deeper than the last.
“Ah, God!” Sam whimpered. His head dipped low, back undulating under Dean, salty droplets of sweat from his brow splashing against the hood of the car.
“You like this, don’t you?” Dean whispered against Sam’s ear. “Me filling you up, owning you, taking you like this?”
“Mmhhmmm,” was all Sam could muster.
He was too busy adjusting to the fullness of Dean’s cock throbbing deep in his ass to offer up a more coherent reply. His own dick, trapped between his quaking stomach and the car, was so hard that it almost hurt, but Sam didn’t care. It wasn’t about him right now; it was about Dean. Making up for the things he’d said and done to Dean, letting his brother know he was truly sorry and that he still loved him, still trusted him, and still needed him.
Sam let out a long desperate whine when Dean forcefully ground his hips against him, Dean’s thatch of pubic hair scraping against the welts on Sam’s ass, driving Sam hard up against the hood of the car. He tightened his hole around Dean in response, and Dean reacted by grunting and trying to bury himself deeper into his brother.
Dean began to pound into Sam then with a steady brutal rhythm, his thick shaft gliding in and out of his brother, his large hands splayed possessively over Sam’s jerking hips, the Impala creaking and rocking underneath their sweaty, melded bodies.
“Mine,” Dean growled, over and over, as he fucked into Sam. “You’re mine, Sammy.”
Sam moaned long and low.
“Say it!” Dean demanded. He sank his teeth into Sam’s shoulder as he pummeled his brother with his cock.
“Yesss!” Sam finally hissed. “Yours, Dean. Only yours.”
Dean rewarded Sam by adjusting his angle of entry a bit, so that the blunt head of his cock nailed Sam’s prostate hard.
“Fuckgodyes!” Sam cried out, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt a bright white heat building in his belly. “I’m yours, Dean. Always, I swear.”
“No more games,” Dean ordered. “No more fucking random strangers to piss me off and no more hanging around that hell-bitch,” he insisted.
Dean ruthlessly teased Sam, running over the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside his brother again and again with his dick until Sam was moaning and shaking like someone possessed. Licking up the side of Sam’s sweaty neck, Dean savored the salty tang before latching his teeth onto Sam’s earlobe. His mouth quirked into a smile around the flesh between his lips when Sam whimpered his name out loud.
“No more, Sammy,” Dean said.
“No more,” Sam echoed tightly in between groans of pleasure as Dean’s thrusts sped up. “I swear it, Dean. Only you. Love only you.”
Dean’s hips stuttered at that and he felt his balls drawing up, tightening, his orgasm imminent. “Ah, fuck, Sammy,” he groaned, clenching his teeth, body going rigid.
He thrust deeply one last time, burying himself to the hilt in his brother, his breathing ragged and harsh as he felt the familiar tingle in his groin sending shockwaves up his spine. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Dean exploded inside Sam with a hoarse shout.
Sam felt his brother spasm, flooding his insides with a molten heat, and his own cock jerked angrily against the Impala, wanting its own release. He almost sobbed from the ache.
“Hang on, Sammy,” Dean rasped, still trying to catch his breath as he lay heavily across Sam’s trembling back. “Hold on, I’m gonna take care of you, little brother.”
Dean’s softening cock slowly slipped from Sam’s ass, but Dean didn’t let go of his brother. Instead, he gently took Sam’s shoulders, and turned the younger man around to face him.
Sam grunted and winced as his sore ass pressed into the side of the car, but he was quickly shut up by Dean’s lips descending upon his in a forceful kiss that stole his breath from him, teeth mashing together, tongues tangling. It was messy and wet and fucking incredible, Sam thought.
Dean’s left hand came up to entangle itself in Sam’s sweaty hair at the back of his head, fingers carding through the dark mop of locks before he moved to cup the back of Sam’s neck, pulling him in closer as he deepened the kiss.
Sam’s fingers curled into Dean’s shirtfront, locking on tightly, and he willingly surrendered, allowing Dean to plunder his mouth freely. Dean took advantage of this by sucking on Sam’s tongue and nibbling on his brother’s lower lip until Sam couldn’t stand it any longer and began to kiss back just as hard, his own tongue now fucking in and out of Dean’s hot, wet mouth.
Reaching down, Dean closed his right hand over Sam’s raging hard on, thumb rubbing across the over-sensitized tip, making Sam gasp into his mouth.
Dean chuckled, lips still mapping every corner of Sam’s as he began to jerk his brother off with firm, quick strokes, the slapping sound of skin on skin competing with Sam’s loud moans.
“Oh God…I’m g-gonna c-come,” Sam stuttered as his head fell back away from Dean’s lips. “Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna -”
“Just let go, Sammy. I gotcha,” Dean murmured.
He worked Sam’s cock, expertly stripping it, fingers rubbing rough over the underside of the shaft while twisting on the upstroke. Sam frantically bucked up into Dean’s hand, the tingling feeling building behind his tightening balls, blinding him to anything but the thought of coming and coming hard.
“Do it. Come for me,” Dean whispered tersely, and that’s all it took.
Sam cried out, stars exploding behind his eyelids as he erupted in a white-hot torrent, spurting hard all over Dean’s hand and his own stomach. He shook with the release, falling loosely against Dean, who lovingly cradled his brother in his arms.
Dean reached down between their bodies to gently knead his brother’s balls while Sam rode out the last shudders of his orgasm, pupils blown wide, a lazy smirk of bliss stretching the corners of his mouth upwards.
“Fuckin’ A,” Dean muttered. He felt almost dizzy, euphoric, and couldn’t help a grin of his own.
Dean took a long, deep breath, trying to bring his pounding heart rate back under control as he eyed his brother, who had gone completely limp in his arms. They clung to each other for a few more heartbeats and then reluctantly broke apart, each turning slightly to adjust their clothing in the dimly lit parking lot, aware that while they’d been lucky enough to have privacy so far, the odds were against it lasting for much longer.
Dean grabbed a rag from the backseat of the Impala and tossed it to Sam, who used it to clean himself off before he bent down to grab his pants.
Sam hauled them back up, careful to ease the coarse denim up over his scalding ass, nevertheless grimacing when fabric met abused skin. Dean tucked himself back into his jeans with a grunt and zipped up, then retrieved his belt from the ground. Instead of putting it back on, he just coiled it up and held onto it.
He glanced over to Sam who stood in the shadows near the Impala’s hood, quiet, head down, lower lip captured between his teeth.
Dean frowned. “You okay, there?” he questioned softly.
Sam snorted and threw a wide sloppy grin at Dean, teeth glowing white in the moonlight.
“Dude, I just got my ass whipped and then fucked six ways from Sunday in the parking lot of some redneck bar, and you’re asking if I’m okay? Seriously?” Sam shook his head, chuckling tiredly. “What do you think, you jerk?”
“I think you better watch your mouth, bitch, unless you want a repeat performance,” Dean said, his tone far less intimidating than the words suggested. He quirked a brow at Sam, raising the coiled belt in his hand and Sam had the decency to blush and offer up a shy smile. “C’mon, let’s get the hell outta here,” Dean said.
Dean headed for the driver’s side door, stopping to pat Sam’s face affectionately along the way, all the rage and resentment gone, banished.
He grabbed the door handle and grinned at Sam over his shoulder. “I’m hungry and somewhere out there,” he nodded toward the empty road, “is a pie with my name on it.”
And just like that, Sam knew things were back to normal between them.
Dean would crack jokes as he drove and Sam would roll his eyes. They’d argue over which diner to stop at, whether to pay for their meal with cash or a fake credit card, then Sam would Google the directions to the nearest motel on his Blackberry while Dean bitched about the lack of decent nightlife diversions in the town.
Later, they’d share a bed in some musty smelling fleabag motel just off the main strip, cuddling, hands slowly roaming over one another’s naked bodies, legs tangled together, sheets twisted as the TV played in the background. Its white noise would soothe both brothers to sleep, Dean spooned protectively around Sam once again, nose buried in Sam’s hair, warm breath fluttering over his nape, and Sam’s fingers would be entwined in Dean’s, both hands clutched over Sam’s heart.
“Pie, huh?” Sam said as he folded himself into the front seat of the Impala, letting out a grunt of pain. He shifted, trying to take some of the weight off his tender ass while ignoring Dean’s smirk of amusement. “I guess I’m buying?” he questioned tartly.
“Damn straight,” Dean replied, putting the Impala in gear, gunning the engine and heading for the road. He cocked his head at Sam, grinning wide and Sam ducked his head laughing softly at the silly pleased look on Dean’s face.
It felt good to be back to, what for the Winchester brothers, constituted normal, Sam thought.
THE END