Title: Kiss Me Too Fiercely
Author: ThatBeckygirl
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest
Note: The title is the song "As Long As You're Mine" from Wicked:
"Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight,
I need help believing you're with me tonight."
Summary: A minor scare on a job brings out a known fear.

***


Wincing slightly as Dean slams the driver's door shut, Sam steels himself for what is sure to be a long lecture session. All he wants to do is sleep, and he is fairly certain that getting slammed into a wall by a poltergeist is cause for some serious rest - whether it was his fault or not. After all, he didn't mean to get distracted by Dean's ass at the precise moment the damn thing manifested itself behind him. If there is any blame to be placed, Sam thinks, it should definitely be on Dean for being so damn pretty when he's getting fucked. Totally Dean's fault. Cause otherwise? There would be no fixation on his brother's ass. None whatsoever... Okay...maybe there'd be a little. But, still.

"Sam! Get your ass in here! Now!" and the simultaneous slamming (or re-slamming, he's not sure which) of the hotel door brings Sam out of his musings. So, he lifts himself out of the Impala with a sigh. His back hurts, and he has a knot the size of a bowling ball growing on the back of his head. Yeah. It's going to be a long night.

As Sam drags himself through the door, he's expecting lots of things. Being slammed into the wall. Getting a fist to the face, or the gut. Dean just glaring and fuming, maybe even with steam coming out of his ears. All completely reasonable.

He is not expecting, nor prepared for, the sight of Dean sitting on one of the beds, head in hands, seemingly trying to stop oncoming tears – if the ‘deep breathing' technique is any indication.

Damn.

Sam is so completely shocked that he can't even get his wits together to try and comfort his sibling. The first thing that goes through his head is "What the fuck?" The second is "Oh my God. Is he hurt?"

He's not sure how long he stands there just inside the open doorway, gaping, mouth hanging open, before Dean gets up and closes the door quietly behind him. Wait. Quietly? Dean is pissed. A pissed off Dean usually involves more...hurtling objects and slamming doors.

And, that brings him out of his reverie. He goes to Dean, who has returned to his previous position, and kneels in front of him. Lifting Dean's face with his hands on either side, he places a small, chaste kiss on his brother's lips. As he pulls back, Dean closes his eyes and a lone tear escapes down his right cheek, laying a clear track. Which just breaks Sam's heart. This can't be about the job, right? Cause Dean doesn't cry. Dean Winchester rarely even shows emotion. Not unless someone's dead or near-de...oh. This was an I-almost-lost-my-Sammy moment.

"Dean," Sam says with a sigh, lightly rubbing his thumbs over Dean's cheekbones. "I'm fine. Really. I'm in one piece, aren't I? I'm sorry I scared you, man." All that got him was a soft sigh and a furrowed brow. Okay, new tactic. "Dean. Look at me."

Once he gets wet green eyes focused on him, he leans in to kiss his brother again, leaving his own eyes open. Dean's not one for words, he knows this. So, maybe Sam's heart can be seen in his eyes. Just maybe. And maybe that'll be enough. And maybe it has to be. Because Dean loves him, and he knows this just like he knows his own name, it's always been a fact. But sometimes Dean forgets. Forgets that Sam loves him too. Forgets that Sam would die without him. Forgets that Sam. Isn't. Leaving.

And really... Who can blame him? Dean is a constant, never changing what he feels. Sam is the variable. And he's the only one that can pick the right number to keep the equation in order.

When Dean begins kissing back, Sam tries to deepen the kiss, parting his mouth and letting his tongue play along the plush lips of the other, willing them to open and accept what he's offering: reassurance. When they do, the kiss is slow, passionate. Arms come up around Sam's shoulders and pull him in, clinging. He moves his arms down to push himself up and over his brother, encouraging him to move, never once breaking the kiss.

Dean slides back until they're both fully on the bed, legs and arms tangled. Sam moves his hands up underneath the thin cotton t-shirt, feeling the toned abs that he's seen developed over the years. That bit of skin-to-skin contact gets Dean, who was just going along, more involved, more dedicated. The kiss becomes more insistent, more needy. Dean kisses him like he's going to disappear if there is even a mere thought about stopping. The love and desire they each feel for the other becomes overwhelming.

And suddenly there are far too many clothes involved. With a groan, Dean pushes Sam away gently and sits up to pull off his shirt. When he goes to undo his belt, Sam stops him with a whispered "Let me." And, just like that, Dean lays back. He's not cocky and smirking, he's not even grinning like a sex-crazed maniac. He just is. The usually guarded Winchester lays back, looks his brother in the eye, and waits for whatever is to come, trusting the younger man. Sam realizes the deeper meaning behind that simple act and it takes his breath away.

"Dean...My God...You're beautiful," he whispers, while slowly ridding his brother of both pants and boxers. He takes in the sight of Dean in all his glory, lying back like an Olympic God. After a minute of blatant staring, he finally remembers to undress himself. And does so quickly. It's not fair for Dean to be naked and Sam to be fully clothed, right? Right.

The first contact as Sam lies back down elicits a gasp from both brothers. As usual, Sam is amazed by how right this whole thing with his brother feels. Incest is taboo; it's wrong; it's dirty. That fact has been drilled in by society since Day One. But, then again, they would also scoff at the lifestyle of those like the Winchesters. So, what's one more infraction? They are SamandDean. No one can mess with that. Really, they should be envied for what they have, what they've found in each other.

Once again, Dean is the one to bring Sam out of his head, this time with a gentle, questioning kiss. He smiles down at his brother, and reaches up to caress his face. Dean leans into the touch and kisses the palm of his hand, never losing eye contact. The need in those eyes makes Sam's hips involuntarilyy jerk forward, rubbing their cocks together, drawing a moan out of one and then both of them.

Sam closes his eyes and tries to ignore the need to get inside his brother. That's not what this is going to be about, not this time. Dean doesn't need sex; he needs Sam. And that's what Sam will give to him. He leans down and rests his head on his brother's shoulder while he starts to move his hips, rubbing against the older man. It's slow, gentle. Sure.

His eyes pop open when Dean starts fidgeting, trying to get something from the nightstand. "Dean, what're you...?" And then it clicks. Lube.

"Dean, no," the younger brother says softly, bringing Dean's face around to look at him. And, he can't help but smile at the utter confusion present. "There's not going to be a top or a bottom tonight. Okay, Dean? This...Tonight...this is just you and me...a pair...a team."

At Dean's slight nod, he presses his lips against the ones in front of him, which have been kissed to utter perfection. He resumes his movement and reaches down between them to grasp both their cocks in his big hand, leaving the other to brace himself on the bed... He moves his hand in time to the thrusts of his own hips and those of his brother. Moving faster or slower depending on the direction in Dean's eyes.

When he starts to feel the build up, he leans down and whispers, "Come for me, with me," before crashing his mouth to Dean's. His orgasm tears through him, and he's sure his vision would be completely black if his eyes could stay open. He feels his cum splashing across his hand, his chest, Dean's stomach. Half a second later he feels Dean's join him. And, his only regret is that he can't see the look on his brother's face.

Exhausted, emotionally and physically, he collapses half on top of, and half to the side of Dean. He wants to say something, anything. He wants to push himself up and kiss his brother, his lover...explain that he's sorry, that he's not going anywhere...that Dean is everything. Damn contentment making him lazy.

He does, however, find enough strength, barely enough, to roll them both over and settle Dean into his arms. He tightens his hold and runs his fingers through the short, sweaty hair. As he's drifting off to sleep, he hears the puff of air against his chest form words, the first words he's gotten since he walked into the room.

"I love you, Sammy."

Placing a kiss atop Dean's head, he smiles to himself. He tries to form the words "Love you too" but contentment wins him over before he gets a chance, and he falls into a dreamless sleep.

The End

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