Despite all the contrary evidence that the two other hunters weren’t going to try to kill him again, at least not while Sam was around, Dean couldn’t help the flicker of concern that flashed inside of him as he watched the younger man drink some of the tea that was meant for him. Worried in spite of himself because even Sam could not possibly understand how the poison that had been used on him might affect him.

But when the younger man didn’t have the violent reaction that Dean had before to the injection he relaxed again. Even though he had to fight the smirk of amusement that tried pulling at his lips at the look of disgust on the younger man’s face, and his words, after taking a drink.

The glare that Sam gave him in return did not phase him at all however, and he took the thermos from the younger man and started to drink from it without complaint. Even though Sam’s description of the concoction was entirely accurate. Surprisingly had worse, some of the rotten maggot ridden slop he’d been given to eat during his punishments had almost been worse than the punishments themselves. So he’d learned quickly not to be very picky with his food and drink.

Unsure what Sam was doing when he rung out a wet cloth and moved towards him Dean reflexively pulled back. Eyeing the younger man with not quite distrust. It seemed almost impossible to muster up that emotion right now, given what had passed between them, what he now knew about Sam. Or maybe he was just feeling more sick than he thought. He was almost too exhausted to care right now.

So he let the younger man wipe down his face, the cool water feeling surprisingly good against his feverish skin. Dean pretty much ignored the other hunter from then on. His eyes solely focused on Sam. Watching the emotions flickering across the younger man’s face. The intensity in Sam’s eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt making his skin flush for a different reason.

He held his breath as the younger man rubbed the cool cloth over his chest, his muscles flexing underneath Sam’s hand. Dean licked his lips unconsciously, his mouth feeling dry, and hating the fact that he could only taste the bitter tea in his mouth anymore when all he wanted to taste was Sam.

Sam watched Dean’s muscles ripple under the cool cloth and bit his lip hard, forcing himself to keep his mind on his task. He had to get Dean’s fever broken. So why was he wiping slowly along Dean’s neck, meeting Dean’s gaze, and running the cloth back down Dean’s chest again, almost lovingly and with promise. He kept up his slow ministration, practically making love to Dean with the cloth, but keeping it discrete enough he prayed Jim didn’t notice. Of course, his growing arousal was going to be difficult to hide. Pretty soon he was going to have to dump some cold water on himself. Even so, he patiently rubbed down the feverish skin of the man before him again and again.

He ran the cold cloth under the back of Dean’s shirt, taken the opportunity to let his fingers brush Dean’s skin along with the cloth. He inhaled deeply. Dammit, this was not fair to Dean. Teasing him this way. Never mind it was sheer torture for him as well. He forced himself to return to wiping down Dean’s face. That was safer, even if it meant staring into those soulful eyes and those appealing, bitable, kissable lips. When Dean licked his lips, that little pink nub slipping out, Sam almost shook with the tension of forcing himself not to say fuck it, ignore Jim, and ravage Dean then and there.

Sam ran the cloth over his own face at that point, trying desperately to cool his out of control desires. This was insane, just fucking insane. He hadn’t felt like this since he and Jessica had first started dating, when they simply couldn’t get enough of each other. They constantly had to be touching and kissing, and the places they made love practically caused Sam to blush just thinking about it. And this was exactly how he was feeling about this man.

He told himself this could be nothing but a trick by Dean, a trick to get Sam to trust him. He’d tried to kill him. Maybe Jim and Bobby were right not to trust Sam alone with Dean. It was obvious Sam was seriously screwed up. It was the entire upheaval of his life, Sam assured himself. Just that and nothing more. He denied the dreams he’d had when he was younger of making love to the dream boy, the now flesh and blood man lying in front of him, his shirt open and glistening with a sheen of water…

Sam wanted to scream in frustration. He couldn’t keep his mind off of making love to the man even when he tried to remind himself of every reason that it was wrong, that he shouldn’t feel this way. He had to force himself to keep his hormones in check. When Dean’s fever was broken, then he could let himself fantasize about what he wanted to do to Dean and what he wanted Dean to do to him. First and foremost, he had to make sure Dean wasn’t going to die from the poison in his system. His eyes slid back to Dean’s neck and he realized the nasty welt there from the injection had begun to go down and it wasn’t the angry red weal it had been an hour ago. He felt a small sigh of relief escape him. It seemed to be working.

“Are you feeling better?” Sam asked Dean softly.

Dean kept his breathing shallow and even, as much as he was able to anyway, given the situation. At least if his breath was slightly elevated and his face flushed it could be explained away by sickness and fever rather than the heightening arousal every swipe of the cool cloth across his skin built inside of him.

The gun being trained on him should have done wonders to quell that arousal, but it didn’t. Dean couldn’t help but wonder briefly if this wasn’t some new kind of elaborate torture. But if it was it was torture for them both. He could see it in Sam’s eyes. He could feel it the way the younger man’s hands sometimes trembled over his skin even through the cloth separating them.

Dean’s eyes slid closed, an involuntary shiver rippling through his body when Sam slid his fingers down his back. It was all he could do to keep from arching into the contact. To resist shifting his hips, seeking some kind of stimulation to relieve the pressure building in his groin. His cock hard and heavy by now, trapped uncomfortably in his tight jeans, aching. Making him glad for the blanket covering most of his lap or they would have probably been in some serious trouble by now.

His eyes slid open again when the cloth returned to wiping his face tenderly, Dean watching the younger man intently through hooded eyelashes. Maybe not torture, maybe just a game. A dangerous one. Making up the rules as they went along. Dean had always rather enjoyed dangerous games, and he had a feeling this might be one game he might not mind losing. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t play to win.

When the younger man asked him if he were feeling better, Dean nodded slightly. A little surprised by the fact that he actually was. He didn’t feel as sick to his stomach as before at least, and the burning feeling inside of him had lessened considerably. Whether that was because of the disgusting medicine he was drinking or Sam’s efforts, or even both, he wasn’t sure. Dean’s gaze shifted back to the older hunter, the gun still leveled steadily at his head, and Dean snorted.

“Enjoying the show?” He asked the older man sarcastically, well aware of how he looked right now even if the other man couldn’t see how hard he actually was.

Sam strangled back a gasp at Dean’s question to Pastor Jim. His eyes grew comically wide as he stared at Dean, feeling his cheeks get hot with embarrassment. Didn’t Dean realize if Jim recognized it, he’d probably try to keep Sam and him apart? Even if they couldn’t touch each other, Sam still wanted to be near him, to make sure he was okay if nothing else.

Sam heard Jim give a small snort. “If it was my choice in the matter, I’d rather see you writhing in agony.” Jim said, revulsion plain in his voice. He was disgusted by the fact that Sam’s concerned efforts seemed to be eliciting pleasure for the man. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man was fully aroused beneath that blanket. He hoped it was causing him pain if that were the case.

“Jim, he’s doing better but he’s out of tea and I need some more ice,” Sam said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Why don’t you go take a break and stretch your legs? I’ll watch him. And could you maybe get me thermos of coffee while you’re at it?” Sam didn’t dare let Jim see his reddened face.

“Move away from him first, Samuel,” Jim said patiently.

Sam pushed himself back, taking the thermos and the bucket and putting it safely out of Dean’s reach. He turned but kept his back to Jim and headed for the bathroom. “Go on Jim. I need that coffee and he needs more tea.” Sam paused. “I’m not going to do anything stupid. I promise.”

Giving a final glare at Dean, Jim stood up, more than grateful to let his arm that had been holding the gun rest for a few minutes. It wasn’t as if he could switch off with his other hand considering that arm was in a sling, courtesy of man in chains before him. He slid the gun into its holster and after dropping the thermos into the bucket, carried the bucket toward the stairs. Maybe he’d send Bobby back down. After what happened previously, Jim doubted he’d get Sam to leave ‘Dean’ for awhile, and someone needed to go check on John. Sam had promised John they’d trade out staying with him and it had already been a good three or four hours. Jim didn’t want John waking up alone. Maybe Bobby could convince Sam to go out and get some lunch after the man’s fever had dropped some more. “All right Samuel.”

“Thanks,” Sam said as he pushed the door open to the bathroom and once it closed, leaned against it until he heard Jim reach the top of the stairs. He cracked open the door and, confirming Jim was gone, he strode over to Dean and knelt by him. Even with the blanket over his groin, he could tell Dean was more than a little aroused. His own arousal had lessened, probably more out of fear of Jim noticing than anything else, but he knew it was still visible if someone was looking for it.

“I’m sorry about the …we’ve got a few minutes. If you want to, you know, ‘relieve’ yourself in the bucket before he comes back down,” Sam practically blushed. He was a grown man and he couldn’t simply tell the guy to jerk off. Well, he never had been one to be overtly crude. “I can go dump it afterward.”

Dean smirked in amusement. Not so much from the older hunter’s reply but the expression on Sam’s face. The younger man looked like his eyes were about ready to fall out of his head and his face was as red as a tomato with embarrassment. It was rather… cute.

“Kinky. Not surprised you’d get off on that.” Dean replied, never taking his eyes off the older man, and probably would have said more, if Sam didn’t quickly cover up his little outburst, suggesting ‘Jim’ take a break. Asking for more ice, coffee, and promising not to do anything stupid. Dean almost snorted at that last bit as he watched the older man head up the stairs with the bucket to do as Sam asked.

The other hunter wasn’t gone two seconds before the younger man came out of hiding in the bathroom and knelt next to him again, even closer than Sam had been when Jim had been there holding a gun on him. So trusting. Dean lifted an eyebrow when Sam first apologized and then suggested he ‘relieve’ himself before the older hunter came back.

He chuckled softly as he slowly pushed himself up from his reclining position, the blanket sliding off of him as he moved. Never taking his eyes off Sam’s as he knelt in front of the younger man so close there was barely an inch of space between them. The chains slack enough he could have closed that distance if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Leaving that choice up to Sam.

“You want to watch then?” Dean asked softly, tilting his head to the side, watching the younger man’s eyes closely as his fingers moved to the button on his jeans. Undoing it easily with a flick of his wrist. His arousal straining against the back of his zipper as he slowly eased it down. His thumbs hooking into the waistband of his jeans, easing the tight denim down just enough to show off his hip bones.

“Or maybe you’d rather help with this too?”

Dean’s chuckle was…bothersome to Sam. It reminded him too much of the enemy who’d hurt his father. Even so, when the blanket fell from Dean’s waist, Sam couldn’t look away from the huge bulge that stretched Dean’s already enticingly tight denim tighter. Sam’s cock didn’t just twitch, it damn near jumped, and Sam’s breath hitched. Dean moved so close to Sam but not close enough to touch, all but makingSam’s skin prickle in anticipation. He could feel Dean’s breath gently caress his face, feel the heat of Dean’s body wash over him. He’d long since buttoned up his shirt and now it was Dean’s shirt that was open and exposed to him.

Did he want to watch? God! No he wasn’t some sort of pervert that wanted to watch another man jerk himself off! And certainly not his brother. And yet…he couldn’t help but watch as Dean slowly, torturously, released himself from the binding pants. His cock was still hidden beneath his tented undershorts and Sam felt a flash of anger at that. Dean pulled open his pants enough to show his hips.

Sam all but groaned at the tease. He deserved it. He’d done this to Dean. It was only fair that Dean tease him back. Did he want to help? No! Of course not! He’d never touched another man’s cock, never had any desire to. (Again refusing to acknowledge the dreams a hormone controlled teen had that could get hot over anything.) But he wanted to see what was under those tented shorts. God he wanted to see... But he felt like Dean was playing a game with him and that made him reluctant and wary.

They probably only had ten minutes before Jim came back down. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Ten minutes. And he was wasting precious seconds. Maybe…maybe if he could get it out of his system, he’d be able to manage better, think clearer. He reached down and pushed Dean’s jeans further down his hips, hooking his undershorts in the process and pushing them down as well. He stared at Dean’s glory, at the heavy, come leaking cock that begged to be touched. Hesitant fingers took Dean’s dick, his thumb brushing across Dean’s crown. “Yes,” Sam whispered hoarsely, finally dragging his eyes away from Dean’s cock and meeting Dean’s cool green gaze. “I want to help.”

He’d made Sam nervous. He could see it in the younger man’s eyes, and Dean was surprised how much that bothered him. He didn’t give a damn what the other hunters thought of him, but he didn’t want Sam to be afraid of him. He knew he shouldn’t care what Sam thought of him either, but he did. The younger boy had been the only one who had ever looked at him, ever touched him, with even the slightest kindness and now that he knew he couldn’t separate that knowledge from the man, his enemy, kneeling in front of him.

Dean could tell himself the reason why he cared was because if Sam was wary of him he couldn’t use the younger man’s trust against him later, but he’d only be lying to himself. Nor could he admit the truth...

The smirk slipped from Dean’s face and his eyes softened considerably when he felt Sam’s hands settle on his hips. Easing his jeans down along with his underwear, exposing him completely to the chilly basement air, causing an unexpected chill to run up his spine. Though that chill was chased away easily by the heat in the younger man’s eyes as Sam stared at him. Making his skin flush, and definitely not from fever this time.

Dean wasn’t a stranger to others looking at him with desire. He was well aware how appealing his body could be to others and had used it to his advantage in the past to get what he wanted. Sex. It was just another tool, nothing more. But when Sam hesitantly wrapped his fingers around his length, the same touch that had always comforted now giving pleasure, the feelings it stirred within him were like nothing Dean had ever felt before.

Dean licked his lips and nodded. Shrugging the flannel shirt he was wearing off his shoulders, letting it pool behind him, as he leaned in even closer to the younger man. One hand reaching out to grasp Sam’s hip, steadying them both, while the other wrapped around the fingers holding him. Tightening Sam’s grip around him, encouraging the younger man’s hand to move down and back up the length of his cock. His hips thrusting forward a little even at the slight friction, a moan slipping from his lips involuntarily.

“Sam...”

Sam felt awkward and inexperienced and …hell, like a freaking virgin or something. Sure, he’d jacked off plenty of times—what boy hadn’t? But he’d never given anyone a hand job and while he knew what set him off, how much pressure to use, where all the sensitive spots were, and how fast a pace to set, this was someone else and the only feedback he could get would be from the expression on the other’s face. He wanted to do this right, he wanted to make up for putting Dean in this condition and leaving him in it, only to put him right back in it again. He didn’t want Dean to think he was just doing it to torture the man.

He didn’t really want Dean to know just how much Dean was affecting him and in ways he’d never have dreamed of. Eventually the piper would have to be paid, Sam knew that, though like everything else at the moment, he walled that knowledge off. In the past few days he had truly discovered just how fleeting everything was and even if only for a brief time he could have this, he’d take what he could and damn the consequences. He never had the chance to ask Jessica to marry him, never had the chance to tell Mike how important his friendship had been all these years. This man had become suddenly become more important to him than most anything or anyone and while he wouldn’t tell the man that, he would show him.

Dean’s hand steadying him helped ground him. When Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s and encouraged him to stroke Dean’s cock, when his hips thrust forward and he moaned Sam’s name, the floodgates seemed to open for Sam. His confidence grew and he let his palm slip over Dean crown to gather more precome, to help lube his hand. A small thrill coursed through him every time Dean thrust into his hand, knowing he had full control of Dean’s pleasure and knowing that he wanted more than anything to make it the most pleasurable experience he could in the brief time they had.

Focusing everything on the man before him, he ignored his own growing arousal. When Dean moaned his name again, Sam covered Dean’s mouth with his own, wanting to swallow those moans and make them a part of him. He also knew, and smiled a little to himself at the thought, that they couldn’t have a mess to explain so when the time grew closer he’d finish Dean’s pleasure with something he never thought he’d do. He’d go down on him. There really wasn’t any choicehe told himself, but the thought of wrapping his lips around Dean’s rock hard leaking member sent a thrill through him like he’d never experienced and he kissed Dean more intensely, his other hand finding its way to Dean’s nipple.

It was just a hand job, nothing fancy, yet Dean couldn’t believe how good it felt. Even though it was obvious that the other man had never done this for another man before, Sam’s hand wrapped around him was warm and felt perfect moving over his sensitive flesh. Maybe it was that inexperience, a certain innocence, which turned him on the most. Knowing he was the first as he guided the younger man, showing Sam exactly how he liked to be touched, how tightly to hold him, how fast or slow to move as he thrust into the other man’s grip. Sam’s fingers were not unsure for long, and soon enough the younger man didn’t need Dean’s guidance.

Dean opened his mouth and moaned into the younger man’s mouth when Sam sealed their lips together. Dean thrust his tongue greedily into Sam’s mouth, taking everything the younger man offered. Releasing Sam’s hand to wind his fingers in the soft hair at the back of the other man’s neck. Drawing Sam closer and guiding the kiss.

Fuck, he felt so damn good, tasted so good, Dean felt he could drown inside the younger man and he wouldn’t give a damn.

His hand on Sam’s hip shifted to the younger man’s ass, squeezing as he groaned again in pleasure at the fingers toying with his already hard nipples. Rubbing Sam through his jeans, and when that wasn’t enough slipping his boldly underneath the waistband of his jeans. Gently massaging the strong muscled curves covered in downy soft flesh beneath his hand.

Thrusting faster into Sam’s hand, Dean’s muscles tensed as he felt his release quickly building.

Dean’s tongue was insistent, demanding, and Sam loved every moment of it as their tongues chased and wrapped around each other. He could taste the bitter tea once again but its flavor quickly faded and all he could taste was Dean. How could a man taste so heavenly and so perfect?

When Dean’s hand went to the back of his neck, the heavy chain dragged across his shoulder. Remembering that Dean was still in chains turned him on while his mind tried to wave red flags of why Dean was in those chains, that this was wrong, that this was dangerous, and Sam ignored them as stubbornly as he’d ignored his father. The fingers winding and twisting and combing his hair made him shiver and groan.

When Dean’s hand moved to his ass, he caressed, kneaded, and squeezed Sam with a strength that made it that much better. When Dean’s hand slid under his jeans, he groaned louder into Dean’s mouth. It was getting harder and harder to ignore his own arousal.

He felt Den’s pace increasing as he stroked him, felt the tension growing in Dean and knew if he was going to do this, he better do it soon. He guided Dean down to the mattress, mindful of his injuries. He broke their kiss and could tell Dean didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t either but he knew he didn’t have long. His eyes glinted with mischief as he met Dean’s, then he leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Don’t let them hear you.”

He grinned at Dean, using his hand to work him just a little harder, then slid down to Dean’s thick and ready cock. Jessica loved giving blow jobs and he knew exactly what he liked and hoped Dean liked it as well. He knew Jim would be returning any minute so he couldn’t tease Dean the way he wanted to. He tongued Dean’s slit for a few seconds. While Dean had tasted good when he was kissing him, he was not ready for the flavor that assaulted his senses as his tongue licked at the fluid seeping from Dean hungrily. Moaning his delight, his hot breath whispered over Dean’s sensitive flesh. His hands went to Dean’s hips, remembering all too well how Jessica had held him to keep him paced. He slid his wet mouth down over Dean’s member eagerly. He tried to be confident as he sucked and worked Dean. He knew he wasn’t doing as good as he could, but Dean didn’t seem to mind, though he figured it was pretty obvious it was his first. He fingered Dean’s balls as he worked him harder and harder. He felt Dean’s sudden tensing and readied himself to swallow as he brought Dean to release.

Dean was momentarily taken off guard when Sam pushed him backwards, easing him gently down to the mattress, but he didn’t resist. Even though it forced him to release the younger man, forced him to break their kiss, and Dean hadn’t wanted to do either. He looked up at the younger man questioningly but Sam’s hand still wrapped tightly around his throbbing member, stroking him steadily, kept him from complaining about the change.

He panted softly where he laid, practically naked, underneath the younger man. Lifting his hips with every movement of the other man’s hand, he couldn’t stop from thrusting between Sam’s slick fingers, eagerly seeking his release. Raising an eyebrow however at the look of mischief in the younger man’s eyes, but even that look, Sam’s words, in no way prepared him for when he slid down his body and he felt the first brush of the younger man’s tongue along the head of his shaft.

Dean hissed sharply through his teeth before he bit his lip sharply to keep any other sound from escaping. His hands once more finding their way into the younger man’s hair, combing and caressing the soft strands through his fingers. Simply unable to look away from the sight of Sam bent over his lap, licking him like he was some kind of delicious treat, then wrapping his perfect lips around his cock. Barely able to hold back from bucking up and forcing himself deeper into the younger man’s hot wet mouth. Letting Sam set the pace.

What Sam lacked in skill the younger man more than made up for with enthusiasm and god what Dean wouldn’t have given for this to last longer. To really let himself savor the feel of that sweet mouth sliding up and down the length of his cock. Teaching Sam how to take him even deeper, into his throat. But even if he didn’t care about the older hunter getting an eyeful when he returned, he was already far too close to release to made it last.

Watching himself sliding wetly in and out of that beautiful mouth while Sam caressed his balls, sucking on him faster and harder, realizing that the younger man fully intended to suck him all the way through his climax is what finally triggered it. He couldn’t stop himself from bucking sharply underneath Sam then, his back arching, his fingers twisting in the younger man’s hair almost painfully as he threw his head back and shot down Sam’s throat more powerfully than he was expecting. Barely managing to fight back the shout of pleasure that wanted to break free as a long low groan instead as his body shuddered beneath the younger man.

Dean’s sudden thrust into his mouth made him swallow instinctively, taking Dean in deeper than he would have thought he could have. He felt the hot spunk hit the back of his throat as Dean’s fingers wrapped and pulled at Sam’s hair, heightening Sam’s arousal even more. His own come-heavy cock trapped between denim and thigh answered with a hard release, shaking him to his core. If his mouth wasn’t so full of Dean he would have failed at what Dean had managed and shouted out. Suddenly greedy for everything Dean gave, he worked Dean’s member, milking what more he could as his own cock mirrored Dean’s, jerking and throbbing so hard he couldn’t tell where Dean’s shudder ended and his began, moaning again and again around Dean’s thick member.

He felt the tension drain from Dean and his own cock finally settled. Reluctantly he released Dean from his mouth, panting and covered with sweat. He ran his tongue up Dean’s sweat-covered body and then kissed him deeply, letting Dean taste the mixture of Sam and his own semen. He moaned into Dean’s mouth, wanting to lay in Dean’s arms and hide from the world, finding the comfort he always had in Dean’s presence. His kiss shifted from hot passion to gentle slow kissing as his hands ran tenderly along Dean’s body. He resisted the urge to reach down and massage Dean’s cock, to tempt it to harden again, and resisted the urge the rub Dean’s nipples. Instead he brought his hand up to Dean’s shortly cropped hair and ran his fingers through Dean’s sweat-soaked locks.

In his after-sex haze, he heard a distant pounding and Bobby’s voice calling his name, making him groan in frustration and he forced himself to pull away from Dean. He saw the mark on Dean’s lower lip, blood just barely seeping from it. Dean had bit his lip to keep from calling out, to keep quiet as he had asked. He ran his thumb lightly over the injury, his heart warming even more at the sight and giving Dean a thankful smile. Pushing himself to his feet, grimacing at the cooling wet spot that travelled from groin to knee as his own come soaked his pants, he straightened. His head clearing, he heard Bobby pounding on the door that he could have sworn Jim left open. Bobby’s voice was growing more concerned and demanding Sam answer him.

“Hang on a minute Bobby, I’m coming!” Sam shouted up at him, feeling silly laughter try to escape. Oh, he’d come all right. His desire to laugh was quelled with the follow-up thought of how the fuck was he going to explain that? He saw the coffee cup sitting near the untouched Styrofoam containers and walked over to it, regretfully washing Dean from his mouth as he drank down a couple gulps of cold bitter coffee, then poured the remaining liquid partway down his shirt, onto his groin, and down the one side of his jeans. He hissed as the cold liquid withered any final signs of his recent activity. He wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve and using his fingers combed his mussed hair down as best he could. He was sure he was flushed and probably smelled of sex, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

He glanced over at Dean and made sure Dean was covered up then headed to the stairs. The door at the top suddenly burst open and Bobby’s angry and worried gaze fell on a surprised Sam.

“How the hell’d this door get locked?” Bobby demanded.

Sam shrugged, his brow furrowing. “Isn’t the lock on your side, Bobby? Must have just gotten stuck or something,” he said, grateful for the bit of luck or Bobby would have walked in on them in a more than compromising position.

“What happened to you?” Bobby asked gruffly as he came down the stairs, seeing the wet stain on Sam’s shirt and pants.

“You. You scared the hell out of me when you started pounding on the door and I spilled my coffee all over myself. Thanks for that. At least it was cold. I’m going to clean up,” Sam said, trying to casually keep his distance from Bobby as he headed to the bathroom that he was getting all too familiar with.

Dean’s chest heaved, gasping, fighting to get enough air in his lungs. Though it was a wasted effort when it felt like all the air was knocked out of him at the feeling of Sam trying his best to suck his brains out through his cock, and fuck, but he’d never felt anything so good in his whole life.

As he lay there, his muscles trembling from the aftershocks of intense pleasure coursing through him, Dean swore he’d never seen a more amazing sight when he lifted his head to watch the younger man as Sam savored every drop of his release. Every gentle press of Sam’s soft tongue, feeling the younger man’s moans vibrating through his cock, pulling another shudder from him.

Sam sucked him until he began to grow soft, the younger man’s lips and tongue now more soothing than arousing, and Dean relaxed, feeling practically boneless and utterly spent. One last shiver of pleasure rippling through his body when Sam finally released his cock, the shock of the cool air against his sensitive flesh making him groan softly in discomfort, longing for the feel of that warm wet heat surrounding him again even though he’d already come so hard. Fuck, he couldn’t believe how much Sam was affecting him.

It’s not like he was not a virgin in any sense of the word. He’d been fucked, and fucked, pretty much since he’d reached puberty. He’d been taught how to please others, and been introduced to new means of torture at the same time. His father had eagerly showed him the power lust could have over others. He’d also shown him how sex could be used as a weapon, or for bargaining, Dean had lost count how many times his father had traded him to other demons, letting them enjoy him however they wanted for certain services. Dean had learned to enjoy sex as much as he’d learned to hate it, depending on the situation.

A part of him argued that this was no different than any of those times. That he had let Sam do what he wanted, had encouraged it, merely to further gain the younger man’s favor. If Sam enjoyed him the younger man would be more willing to keep him alive. If the young hunter continued to enjoy him, maybe even grew to care about him, love him, there wouldn’t be anything Sam wouldn’t do for him. Perhaps even release him, believing Dean wouldn’t turn on him. He was only using Sam, as Sam was using him.

Dean could tell himself that it meant nothing. That it meant nothing when Sam gently licked up his body to kiss him. That it meant nothing as he moaned softly into the younger man’s mouth and arched beneath the careful hands that ran over his body, petting through his hair like he was something… treasured… Looking into Sam’s eyes as the younger man ran his thumb gently across his swollen lips, the way his heart clenched seeing Sam smile at him like that, it meant nothing. Maybe if he told it to himself often enough he’d even make himself believe it.

Dean only became aware of the pounding on the door to the stairs, the other hunter’s shouts through the thick wood, when Sam pushed away from him and stood. Calling out to the other man and Dean turned his head to look and sure enough the door that had been left open when the other hunter had left was now shut tightly and was not budging no matter how hard the hunter pounded on it from the other side. Dean’s eyes shifted back to Sam, having no doubt how it had happened. If he concentrated he could feel an echo of the power that the younger man was tapping into without even realizing it. How could he not realize what he was doing? The power he could wield so effortlessly unconsciously… what would happen once he tapped into that power knowingly? What would he be capable of? No wonder his father wanted Sam so badly…

He lifted an eyebrow as the younger man covered up the evidence of what they’d been doing, and Dean decided it was probably best if he did the same. Quickly pulling his underwear and jeans back into place and covering himself with the blanket once more, he rolled over to face the wall, putting his back to the hunters, feigning sleep. A small amused smile curving his lips in spite of himself as Sam easily lied to the other hunter to cover up what they’d been up to.

How many more lies would Sam tell? How many more ‘rules’ would he break? How many more times would he stick his hand out to a wolf pretending it was no more than a wounded puppy? When the time came Dean knew it would not be difficult at all to use that against Sam in order to free himself. Just as Dean ignored the other hunter in the basement watching him, he ignored the pang of guilt and regret that welled up in his heart at that knowledge.

Sam went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face, trying to erase the flush his time with Dean had brought on. He met his own gaze in the cracked mirror and told himself he’d done it to get Dean out of his system. But that was a lie. He had done it because he wanted Dean. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Dean simply because Dean had always soothed his pain, and right now when Sam had time to stop and think, all he felt was pain.

Pain from the loss of his best friend. He had gone after the “demon” he thought was involved in the killing of Mike, intent on gaining revenge. His best friend knew nothing of demons and the dark things that crawled through the night. He was absolutely no threat to the world of demons and evil. He was laid back and the only hunting he did was in the bar looking for a sucker to play darts or pool with him, or looking to find his next notch on his belt in the form of a blond or brunette. Dean wasn’t that demon, but Sam wouldn’t forget there was one out that that had killed his friend. Maybe, with enough time, he could gt Dean to tell him how to find that demon.

Almost unbearable pain from the loss of his girlfriend intertwined with Mike’s loss. Never again would he see Jessica’s sweet beautiful face except in the picture he had of her in his wallet. Never again would she give him shit, her eyes sparkling with amusement, or bake him his favorite cookies, or set down a hot cup of coffee beside him as he poured over his law books readying himself for the next exam. The last image he had of her would be etched in his memory forever, of burning on the ceiling, bleeding and confused. He had never told her, not of his real life growing up, not of being a hunter. He had dreamed and dreamed of her burning on the ceiling and he had done nothing, absolutely nothing, to try to protect her. How hard would it have been to put down a few lines of salt? To draw some runes? He didn’t know what he was going to do if Dean had a hand in her death. He prayed Dean didn’t. He needed Dean right now, and if he discovered Dean had been involved, Sam thought he might just crumble.

His father was in ICU and he nearly killed his father by heedlessly spilling his guts over who he thought Dean was. All the times he ignored his father’s calls, even blocked his father’s number. He had hated his father for so long and now, now he understood what had driven the man to find the beast that killed his wife. Now, when Sam had almost lost him. He had planned on offering something like an olive branch, inviting his dad to the wedding. So long as John didn’t start talking about things in the dark and that Sam should start hunting again, he was willing, reluctantly, to bring his father back into his life. He wondered if he would have picked up the phone those few nights ago if he hadn’t thought it was Mike. He hadn’t hung up on his father as he had done in the past, honoring John’s plea to listen. Why, when he went upstairs to check on Jessica, hadn’t he told her to get up then? If he had just grabbed her and ran, she might still be alive. She might be scared and confused, but she would be alive. But no, his training had kicked in and he wanted to be ready for whatever was coming after them. Even if things had gone the way he had intended, if he had sent her to her family, he knew it wouldn’t have mattered. She’d still be dead, Mike would still be dead, and probably, most of Jessica’s family along with them.

Guiltily he recalled the time he’d spent with Jessica, of making love with her and what had he done? He had used their lovemaking as tools for making love to Dean.

No, he told himself. He’d had sex with Dean. That was all. Just sex.

Then why had he wanted to make Dean groan with pleasure, why did he want to spend hours with him, exploring every inch of his body, bringing him to the edge again and again until Dean begged him to finish him. He had had sex with women and it didn’t feel anything like it felt with Dean. With Dean, it was … like with Jessica. He sank slowly to the floor, his back to the wall. How could he just cast his love for Jessica aside like that? How could he replace her gentle hands, her gentle kisses with…his brother’s? He let his head fall forward, ashamed. He felt the tears as they began to stream down his face.

He’d made love to Dean. And he wanted to again.

Sam’s head snapped up when the bathroom door opened. Bobby came in, carrying Sam’s duffel.

“Sam, thought you might…” Bobby’s voice trailed off, seeing Sam sitting on the floor, seeing the tears running down his face. He averted his eyes as Sam hastily wiped the tears away.

“Your daddy’s gonna be fine, Sam. Jim’s gone on to the hospital to sit with him for a spell,” Bobby said, setting Sam’s duffel down. “Jim got all your clothes washed up while you was with John. You look like hell, Boy. Why don’t you git? Go to the hotel room, get some real sleep, a shower, and a solid meal into you.” He held up his hands stopping Sam’s protest before Sam got out a word. “I’ll look after…Dean. We’ll leave him be, you have my word on that. Looks like he’s getting some sleep himself. When he wakes up, I’ll make sure he drinks the fresh batch of tea I made for him. I’ll make him up a couple PB&Js to eat if he gets his appetite back.”

Sam managed a grateful smile. “Thanks Bobby, but really, I’m okay, I’ll stay—“

Bobby glared at him. “You’ll get your stubborn ass to the hotel and get some real sleep.”

“I’m fine—“ Sam started again, pushing himself wearily to his feet. He wasn’t fine. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, but he didn’t want to leave.

“You gonna make me get my shotgun out, Boy?” Bobby asked sternly, but a smirk pulled at his lips. Whenever John Winchester was being a stubborn ass, Bobby had always threatened to knock some sense into him with a butt full of buckshot.

“No sir,” Sam said, a small chuckle slipping out. “Okay. I’ll go. You’ll call me if you hear from Jim—the hospital’s got my number, but you know, call me anyhow? And if Dean starts getting sick again—“

“Stop being a mother hen, Sam. We’ll look after John and we’ll look after that…after Dean.”

Sam could see Bobby meant it. As much as he didn’t want to, he’d watch over Sam’s brother.

Sam grabbed his duffel from the floor. “I’ll change and go.”

With a sharp nod, Bobby turned and left. Once he had, Sam quickly changed over into fresh undershorts and jeans, cleaning himself up before sliding the fresh ones on. He glanced into the mirror a final time, so twisted up inside he didn’t know if he wanted to scream or start crying again. Instead, he swallowed back both emotions and strode out to the basement. “See you, Bobby. I’ll be back soon. Watch over him. Keep him safe.”

Bobby sighed. “I will. Now git.”

Sam’s gaze flicked to Dean, Dean’s back to them. He couldn’t be sure if Dean was asleep or just pretending. He turned and headed up the stairs, taking comfort that he would know if anything happened to Dean. He’d simply know.

He was suddenly looking forward to a shower and good couple hours of sleep stretched out in a soft bed. He smiled when he heard Bobby call up after him, “Be sure to check the salt lines!”