Title: Sparks
Author: pixel2817
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is owned by some big scary corporation, anything vaguely original is mine
Warnings/Squicks: angst, D/s, frottage, incest, violet wands, (did I mention the angst?)
Spoilers for Faith
Summary: Basically a pwp. After nearly dying, Dean needs a little help to feel alive.


Sam headed back to the motel, he'd spent the afternoon trying to track down the rumours about the murders here in town; but he was no closer to finding the answer than he'd been when he left that morning. He figured they might have better luck in the bars tonight; alcohol had a way of loosening people's tongues. But all thoughts of a night on the town disappeared in a rush of lust the second he walked into their room.

Dean was kneeling at the foot of the bed, his naked skin glowing in the soft light of the candles burning on the nightstand. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful, Sam never tired of seeing his brother like this; submissive and needy, ready to take anything Sam had to give.

Dean's collar is lying on the bed, and the sight of the soft worn leather has Sam hardening in his too tight jeans. Forcing himself to move slowly, he walks over and takes the collar in his hand. Letting it trail down Dean's back for a second, before securing it around his brother's throat.

He's all set to begin, one hand already curling round Dean's neck, then he spots the other item on the bed. For a moment he can't believe what he's seeing, but his eyes can't deny the evidence. That realisation has him backing away from Dean, and heading for the bathroom. His burgeoning erection vanishes and he feels like he's going to break down. He manages to keep it together until he's safely inside with the door shut, but it's a close call.

There's bile in his throat, and buzzing in his head, his breath's coming in harsh bursts as he fights for control. Dean won't come looking for him; after all he's done this before. Left his brother kneeling until his limbs ached and his muscles cramped with the strain. Normally though, he was playing games; making Dean wait on his pleasure; not having a nervous breakdown in the bathroom.

A violet wand, he couldn't begin to imagine why Dean had bought the damned thing. It had to be new, they didn't exactly have a lot of toys, preferring to make do with the things they had to hand. Dean had gone out and somehow found that thing, and now he expected Sam to use it on him. The very thought made Sam want to curl up into a ball and cry, it was only a few weeks ago that Dean had been electrocuted for real. The memory of his brother's body arching and twisting as the electricity had coursed through him; was probably going to be giving him nightmares for years. The looks on the doctor's faces when they'd had to tell him about Dean's heart attack and the feelings of despair he'd had, when he realised that his brother could really die, were imprinted indelibly in his mind. It had been as close to hell as Sam ever wanted to get, and he knew he wasn't getting over it any time soon.

Sucking in a deep breath, he tried to figure out what he was going to do. Technically he was in charge, he could go back out, toss the wand into the trash, and play the way they always did. But Dean wanted this, had asked for it; usually Sam had to force his brother to admit his desires, had to work hard to figure out what his brother needed. If Sam turned away from this, he'd be failing his brother, letting him down. And Sam couldn't stand the thought of doing that.

Sam splashed some water on his face, and tried to get his emotions under control. He needed for Dean to see him as the confident Top he usually was, letting his fear show on his face would destroy everything he'd worked so hard to build. Dean trusted him, turned to him when their life got too hard to bear; he wasn't going to destroy that part of their relationship, just because he was having trouble dealing with that life himself.

Opening the door was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, but seeing Dean waiting for made him realise he was doing the right thing. Pulling a scarf from his duffel, he quickly covered Dean's eyes; this would be much easier if he knew his brother couldn't see his face.

Sam picked up the wand, letting it rest in the palm of his hand. It was one of the cheap, modern, battery powered devices; nothing like the beautiful antique set Jess had owned. It had been one of her favourite toys, and if he closed his eyes, Sam could hear the buzz and whine of the machine and the little whimpers of pleasure she used to make. Flicking the button, he let a tiny charge dance across the back of his other hand. The bitter smell of ozone filled his nostrils, evoking his memories of Dean's brush with death.

Letting go of the switch he pulled the round edges of the comb across his arm, then let out a second charge. It was set low, felt no more than a slight tickle across his skin, like tiny bursts of static. He had to keep telling himself that this was for Dean, that it wouldn't hurt him; if he could make himself believe it, then maybe everything would be okay.

Setting the wand down on the nightstand, he reached for his brother, pulling him up onto the bed, and pushing him down onto the covers. He didn't speak, he wasn't sure he could trust his voice, but Dean would just think he was playing again. He often used silence to tease and torment his brother, knowing that the anticipation and uncertainty drove Dean crazy. Leaning in he pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss. Needing that taste of Dean to give him the strength to go through with this.

His hands were trembling when he picked up the wand, but he hoped that if Dean noticed he'd just put it down to lust rather than terror. Lifting one of Dean's arms, he ran the teeth of the comb from elbow to wrist and then raised it slightly and flicked the switch. Bright purple sparks arched across Dean's skin, as the wand crackled and burned; and his brother twitched against the covers, letting out a tiny moan.

Moving to the other side, Sam repeated the actions, this time getting a much louder moan; he made himself run the comb the length of Dean's chest, pressing hard enough to leave marks, but keeping his finger well away from the switch. It wasn't getting easier, the smell was making him sick, and he was terrified of something going wrong, Dean's heart had been damaged, and demonic healing aside, there was no way to be sure that he was completely safe.

Moving to the foot of the bed he let tiny jolts of power tickle the soles of Dean's feet. Watching as his brother twisted and writhed under his touch. There was no fear in Dean, no hesitation; the way he moved, the sounds he was making, all convinced Sam that Dean was enjoying himself just fine. Every time the wand buzzed and electricity arched across his skin, then he moved a little faster, and moaned a little more desperately. His gorgeous cock was rock hard, pressed up against his stomach, little beads of pre-come dripping from the tip.

Click, spark, moan, click, spark, moan; Sam played the wand up and down Dean's legs, finally relaxing a little, and letting himself appreciate the way his brother was responding to him. He was shocked to feel his own body start to react, his cock getting harder by the second, and his hands becoming a little steadier with each passing second.

Click, spark, moan, click, spark, moan; now Sam was moving with more confidence, dragging the comb around Deans hips, sending sparks dancing across his brother's pelvis. Feeling Dean twist against his grip, hearing the pleas that were falling from his brother's lips, helped drive away the last of his fears. One last spark, arching close to the base of Dean's cock, causing him to cry out at the sensation, and Sam was done.

Flinging the wand to the floor, he ripped his clothes off as quickly as he could, before covering his brother's body with his own. Taking Dean's mouth in a hungry kiss, thrusting his tongue inside, biting down on swollen lips and sucking Dean's tongue into his own mouth. Shoving the blindfold out of the way, he gazed into Dean's eyes, seeing nothing but love there. Losing himself in the pleasure, his hips were moving constantly now, grinding their cocks together.

It was hard and fast and rough, no room for anything but desperate need; he was the one begging now, words falling unbidden from his lips. "Need you Dean....Love you so much....can't lose you......so scared......never again...love you Dean....love you, love you, love you." Sam didn't even know he was crying, not ‘til Dean reached up and wiped the tears away, laying a comforting hand on Sam's cheek.

It was all too much, and Sam ground down one last time, and then came hard, spilling over Dean's groin. Feeling his brother's cock twitch and jerk, before Dean succumbed to his own orgasm. Sam couldn't move, couldn't stop the tears falling down his face. He just wrapped his arms around his brother and held on tight; needing to feel Dean's heart beat against his chest, needing to know his brother was still there.

"It's alright Sammy, I'm right here...not going anywhere.....let it go Sammy.....just trust me to hold you for a while.....love you Sammy, staying right here, I promise.....let me keep you safe this time...trust in me Sammy....just let go and I'll catch you....Love you sammy." All the time he talked, Dean was petting Sam, rubbing gentle circles over his back, comforting and caressing him. Eventually it worked, his tears and trembling eased, and Sam pulled back to look at Dean's face.

One look at the slight smirk his brother was wearing; and Sam finally understood what had happened. "You played me. He couldn't quite keep the incredulity out of his voice. He'd thought tonight was about him giving his brother what he needed. He was supposed to have been helping Dean let go; instead he was the one who'd ended up breaking. He was the one who'd cried and begged and lost control, and his brother had planned it all.

"You were falling apart Sam, you kept acting like I was going to drop dead any minute. Every night since it happened you get nightmares about me dying. I had to do something, and this was the only thing I could think of. You taught me how to let go, made me accept that sometimes I have to lean on someone else. Seems to me you never thought to apply that to yourself. Got to admit Sammy, you're not so scared any more."

Dean may have been right, but adding the smug tone to the smirk, wasn't doing him any favours. Sam reached up and tugged at his collar, "Seems to me someone's forgotten his place around here. What have I told you about calling me Sammy?"

"So sorry Sir." Dean's didn't sound the least bit sorry, his voice was cocky, and there was a wide grin spreading across his face. Sam was acting and sounding more like himself than he had in weeks, and as far as Dean was concerned that was the only thing that mattered.

"Sure you're sorry, going to have to be a little more convincing if you want to be able to sit comfortably this week." Sam rolled them onto their sides and spooned up behind his brother. Nuzzling at the nape of Dean's neck before pulling the covers up over their cooling bodies. "In the morning we're going to have a long chat about who's in charge around here."

Sam felt better than he had in a long time, Dean had been right; he had needed this, had needed to see that his brother wasn't going to die on him. If Dean hadn't pushed him into this, then Sam might have gone crazy with the fear of losing him. Glancing down he caught sight of the violet wand resting where he'd dropped it. It might have qualified as shock therapy, but it had certainly done its job, and he'd be sure to pack it carefully away. Dean had looked so damn good with purple sparks dancing across his skin and he wanted to see it again.

Tightening his grip around Dean's waist, revelling in the feel of his brother's body pressed against his own, Sam felt himself relaxing. Murmuring, "Thank you., he heard a whispered, "Love you," in response. Then they both drifted away, sleeping without nightmares for the first time in weeks.

The End