Sam glared sullenly across the room, trying to bore holes into the back of his older brother's head. It was just like Dean. Drag Sam out to some stupid party and then abandon him at the first glimpse of a girl.
It's not like Sam couldn't have stayed at the apartment by himself. He was fifteen. Which was categorically not a kid. But, no, he'd gotten the "Dad said not to leave you alone," bullshit and a hard cuff to the back of the head and now here he was. Standing in the middle of a room full of drunk college students. And Dean had the keys in his pocket, so Sam couldn't even go hide out in the Impala until Dean was ready to leave. Then Sam would get to wrestle the keys out of his hand and force him into the passenger seat, because Dean was already on at least his fourth beer of the night and there was no way Sam was letting him drive them anywhere.
Yeah, this night was going to suck. Hard.
"Hey, cutie," a voice said from behind Sam, and he spun around, slightly surprised, to see a pretty blonde in a bright pink halter top smiling up at him. "You want a drink?"
"Um," Sam said, but she was already pushing a red plastic cup into his hand. "Thanks…" he finished weakly, glancing warily down at the cup's contents.
"Drink up," the girl bubbled, holding up her own glass and downing the contents in one long drink. Sam smiled faintly and took a small drink from his. It wasn't as strong as he'd thought it'd be, the alcohol only burned a little going down, and so he took another, longer, drink.
The girl beamed at him. "I'm Tracie," she said, holding out a hand.
Sam took it, flashing her a shy smile as her small fingers squeezed his larger ones. "Sam."
"Well, Sam," she said, withdrawing her hand from his grasp with a giggle. "I've got to go have a little chat with some people, but you come find me if you need anything." She tilted her head up to meet his eyes and licked her lips. "Anything at all."
She disappeared into the crowd in a swirl of pink sparkly fabric, but Sam could feel himself blushing even after she was gone. He took another gulp from his cup and turned to scan the room, looking for Dean.
He spotted him standing just outside the glass back doors, surrounded by a flock of giggling girls. Something strange twinged deep in Sam's gut and he turned his drink up, finishing it almost before he even realized what he was doing.
There must have been more alcohol in that than he's realized, because by the time he'd threaded his way across the room do the doors Dean was standing by, his head was spinning. It wasn't bad, he didn't feel like he was going to throw up or anything, but he definitely felt…different. Swirly, he decided.
He felt swirly.
And that was a very, very soft looking potted plant.
"Sammy?" Dean's voice caught Sam's attention, and he looked up from adoringly stroking a large green leaf to see his brother staring at him like he'd grown a third head. "What the fuck are you doing?"
And, as nice as the plant felt, Sam had a feeling that…. He took a step forward and reached for Dean, curling his fingers in the well-worn fabric of his t-shirt. Mmmm, yes, soft, faded cotton that felt like heaven against Sam's cheek when he nuzzled into his brother's chest. Dean's scent invaded his nostrils, warm and familiar, and Sam pushed his nose deeper.
"Seriously, Sam, what the fuck?" Dean hissed. He braced his hands against Sam's shoulders and pushed, trying to shove him off, but Sam just clung tighter, molding himself to Dean's side.
He could hear girly-sounding voices in the background, cooing things like "Oh, he's so cute !" and "Look at him! Just like a baby puppy!"
Something in Sam's head was protesting that he was fifteen, not eight, thanks. But it was overridden by the part that was currently absorbed in the tiny freckles scattered across the curve of Dean's neck. He flicked his tongue to lick one and had just enough time to taste sweat and skin before Dean let out a yell and jumped away. "Goddammit, Sam!"
Sam blinked at his brother, letting his eyes go liquid and dark in a soft, pleading look that Dean could never say no to. He saw the instant Dean's glare lost its edge and seized the opportunity to press back in, nudging his face underneath Dean's jaw to mouth at the stubble-roughened skin there.
Sam was only dimly aware of the fact that they were still in public, he could hear the party swirling around them in a blend of music and voices, but he had never cared less about anything in his life. Dean, on the other hand, was still trying to get away. He'd managed to work one hand between Sam's mouth and his own neck, but Sam just turned his attention to Dean's fingers. His thumb was pressed against the corner of Sam's mouth and it wasn't hard for Sam to tilt his head, just a little, and let Dean's warm skin slide past his lips.
He latched on instantly, tightening his lips around the base of Dean's thumb and closing a hand around Dean's wrist to keep him from pulling his hand free. Sam's throat had been dry, like he hadn't had anything to drink in days, but he could feel his mouth getting wetter with each suck at Dean's finger, spit mixing with the salt from Dean's skin. Sam hummed happily and slipped an arm around Dean's waist, doing his best to curl into the heat of Dean's body.
The girls were still there, "awww"ing and trying to pet Sam's hair. But Dean cut them all off with a low growl of, "We're getting the hell out of here," and Sam found himself being dragged roughly through crowds of people until Dean managed to find an empty room.
He pushed Sam down on the bed with a muttered "Don't fucking move, Sammy," and went to lock the door behind them. Dean's back was barely turned before Sam was on his feet again, following Dean across the room.
"What did I just fucking s --"
Sam closed his lips over Dean's, effectively cutting off the rest of his sentence. Dean's mouth was soft, wet, hot, tasted like beer and cigarettes and Dean . Dean everywhere, surrounding Sam, in his mouth, under his hands, pressed against him shoulder to hip. Dean, Dean, Dean.
Dean shoving him, hard, knocking Sam halfway across the room. "Fucking hell, Sam. What is with you?" He wasn’t angry…just confused. And drunk, Sam thought. Which was probably the only reason Sam hadn’t been punched yet.
Sam shook his head helplessly, already advancing on Dean again. Dean’s back hit the wall and Sam stopped in front him. He was taller than Dean now, thanks to a recent growth spurt, and Dean couldn’t manhandle him like he used to.
"Dunno, have to touch you. You taste so good, Dean." Sam reached out, slipping his hands easily under Dean's shirt, instantly getting lost in warm skin and smooth lines of muscle. "Dean, please. Dean."
His brother's name, falling from his lips in a steady chant, over and over, as Sam's hands wandered, mapping out old scars and new, healing ones. He inhaled deeply, letting Dean cloud his head again, and, yes, Dean's skin under his mouth. Sam lapped eagerly at Dean's pulse point, letting Dean's heart beat out a cadence against his tongue. He bit down sharply, desperate to taste, and Dean gave a muffled cry. But all Sam could concentrate on was that rhythm in his mouth, the sensation of his heart falling into time with his brother’s. Pounding through his veins, under his skin, in his ears. The tension was easing from Dean’s body and he was pulling Sam closer now, his fingers gripping Sam’s biceps hard enough to bruise.
It wasn’t enough, though, Sam needed… God, he needed…more.
"Sammy? Christ, what's gotten into you." Dean's voice was raw, strained. "Shit, Sam, you have to… You, fuck, you have to stop."
But Sam couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t want to. Never wanted to stop. He worked his hands higher up Dean’s chest, stopping to drag his thumbs over Dean’s nipples and draw a long, ragged moan from his throat. The way Dean reacted to his touch - arching and twisting as Sam ran his fingers, lips, tongue, over every inch of bare skin he could find — was fascinating, addictive. He’d quit telling Sam to stop and his head had fallen back, baring his throat for Sam’s hungry mouth.
Drunk, Dean had to be drunker than he’d been acting. But Sam couldn’t focus long enough to pay closer attention to his brother. There were too many other things. Their mouths found each other and they kissed, wet and dirty. Dean was still fighting it, Sam could feel it in the rippling movements of his muscles, but it was a battle he was losing.
Sam ground into Dean, riding his hard-on against Dean’s thigh. God, that was good…pressure, friction, heat. Not enough. “Dean, please, I need...”
What did he need? His head was spinning in a million different directions, Dean, sex, heat, sweat, more more more more.
“What do you need, Sammy?” Dean was talking in his ear, somehow managing to sound blurred and crystal clear all at the same time. “C’mon, baby, what do you need?”
That was when Sam felt Dean break, when he let go of all the wrongfuckedupnoSammywrong that Sam could sense coming off of him in waves. He couldn’t tell Sam no, not when it was something he wanted this bad. Wanted, needed, had to have. And so he let go and gave in with a harsh, shuddering exhale of Sam’s name.
“Anything you need, Sammy. Anything you need.”
That was enough. Sam had Dean’s shirt off in an instant. He pressed his mouth against Dean’s collarbone, sucking, biting, licking, working his way down over Dean’s chest and across his stomach, memorizing the taste of every inch of skin. Soft, desperate groans were escaping Dean’s lips, every one of them making Sam harder, hotter, needier. When he got to the waistline of Dean’s jeans, Sam barely paused before fumbling the fly open and dragging the worn denim down over Dean’s hips.
“Sam…fuck, Sammy, wait.” Dean’s voice was shaking, and Sam couldn’t tell if he was about to tell him to stop, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Dean’s cock was right there, hard and dark, and Sam licked his lips. He inhaled deeply, letting Dean cloud his senses, and opened his mouth.
Dean’s cock slid past his lips, full, salty, hot, and Sam had never done this before, but Dean was making low, encouraging noises in the back of his throat and so Sam sucked harder. He leaned forward, taking more, spit mixing with pre-come and making everything wet and slippery slick as Sam sucked his brother off. It was messy, dirty, no technique to speak of, but Dean tasted like the best thing Sam’d ever had. And he must’ve been doing something right because one of Dean’s hands was buried in his hair and Dean’s hips were jerking, thrusting, coming just short of choking Sam every time he went down.
The motion of Dean’s thrusts was getting erratic, jerky, and the fingers wrapped in Sam’s hair were trying to tug him off, but Sam wanted everything Dean could give him. He breathed in deep through his nose and took Dean further, fighting past his gag reflex to swallow Dean’s cock down as far as he could.
Dean came with a yell of Sam’s name and hot bursts of saltybitterDean filled Sam’s mouth. He swallowed as much as he could, working his throat around Dean’s cock until he was empty and spent and pulled forcibly away, sliding from Sam’s lips with a soft pop.
Sam’s hand had found it’s way into his jeans and he was jerking himself off, hard rough strokes of his fist as he looked up at Dean through his eyelashes, face flushed and lips still shiny and slick with Dean’s come.
“Sam, Sammy, c’mere.” Dean was hauling him to his feet, reversing their positions to that Sam was the one pinned against the wall. “Let me, yeah, I got you, baby.”
And Dean’s hand around Sam’s cock now, longer, surer motions and Sam arched into his touch. Needy whimpers mixed with Dean’s name and pleasemoreplease were all the sounds Sam could make. He thrust against Dean’s fingers, begging, pleading, needing to come now now now now .
“That’s it, Sammy, come on. Come for me Sammy, let me see you.” Dean’s voice a steady, hot, whisper in Sam’s ear, and he let go. The orgasm ripped through him, tore him into a million pieces and he buried his face in Dean’s shoulder as he came, biting hard enough to taste blood and spilling hot come over Dean’s fist and stomach.
Sam collapsed against Dean’s chest, gasping and panting into his brother’s neck as he came down, as they came down together. Sam’s head was clearer now, the swirling fog pushed to the side, and oh God, what had he just done?
He twisted away from Dean, stumbling backwards, and tripped. He landed on his ass, sprawled across the floor, jeans around his knees, and looked up at Dean through wide, horrified eyes. “Dean, oh, God, Dean. I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.”
Dean had his jeans zipped up and was on his knees at Sam’s side in an instant. “Hey,” he grabbed Sam’s chin, “look at me. Sam, listen, hey, listen to me.”
Sam went still and silent and met Dean’s gaze, breathing past the heavy knot of fear in his stomach. But Dean’s eyes were calm, determined, all traces of drunkenness gone. “Sam, you didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to. Do you hear me? Nothing I didn’t want.”
Their eyes held for a long moment, but eventually Sam nodded. This was so fucked up, Dean was his brother , but when Sam licked his lips, Dean’s taste flooded his mouth again, and Sam couldn’t fight back a tiny moan.
“Come on,” Dean hands were working, pulling Sam’s jeans up and zipping them closed, and then he had Sam on his feet again. “Let’s get outta here, okay? And, dude, how much did you have to drink, anyway?”
Sam shook his head. “I just had one drink…this girl gave it to me. And then everything just went all weird and spinny.”
Dean froze. “Someone drugged you?” he growled. His eyes were dark and Sam could feel the anger tensing under Dean’s skin. “Stay here,” he demanded, and yanked open the door, but Sam caught his arm before he could leave.
“Dean, don’t, please. Just…let’s go home, okay?” Dean didn’t turn back, but he didn’t pull away, either, so Sam stepped closer to him. “Please, Dean, just take me home.”
“Yeah, fine,” Dean’s voice was still hard and angry, but he didn’t try to kill anyone on the way out of the house, so Sam didn’t push it. Besides, he was still slightly occupied with the whole blowing his brother thing and how now everything was different and what was going to happen next and, oh, shit, what if Dad found out?
But then Dean shoved Sam in the car, turned on Metallica so loud the windows rattled, and mowed over about five potted plants on the way down the driveway, and Sam figured everything might actually be okay. Different, yeah, but okay.
Stuck to Me (Like Sugar to My Heart) by rachel_shanz
Author's Notes:
This is for my darling, keepaofthecheez, who has corrupted me with her wee!cest. And thanks to __tiana__ for helping me out, even though I think she’s convinced that I have, in fact, gone off the deep end.