Word Count: 515
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Summary: Written for 50 first times – after John’s death.
He wants it to just be physical.
If it’s just a good fuck, a one-off for both of them then it doesn’t really count as incest. Not really, not to Dean.
But they both know it’s more than that. Sam probably knew the minute Dean pinned him back against the horrible motel room wallpaper and pressed in close for their first, really awkward, kiss. Both of them stumbled through it like blind men trying to drink from a foot peddle fountain after a week with no water. It’s was ugly, but it got the job done. Things had gotten easier after that, clenched hands and sweet friction against their dicks from too tight jeans. Dean wanted it rough, didn’t want it to feel like comfort even though it’s what he wants more than anything. But Sam, fucking emo-ass Sammy, can’t do anything without his heart being involved and by the time Dean’s wrestled them both out of their clothing and angled them toward the bed Sam’s turned his yanking, clenching, grinding, desperate movements into slow kisses, soothing strokes of his hands down Dean’s sides, long gazes that get held even when everything in Dean screams for him to look the other way.
It’s not what he wants, but Sam never cares about what he wants. He just gives Dean what he needs even when it’s the exact opposite of what he thinks he might be asking for.
He should have known that before Sam dropped him down onto the mattress. Dean should have guessed how this was going to go when Sam took the lube for himself and slipped down to suck Dean’s dick like it was the best lolli pop ever in the history of mankind. But, sadly, and this says a lot for his emotional states more than anything else, it’s not until Sam’s sliding down on top of him, taking him inside and clenching their hands together over Dean’s head that Dean understands how much they’re both hurting.
This isn’t about sex. It’s not a one-off. It’s love, hot and hard and painful between two people that just lost the center of their worlds. It’s Sam’s tears sliding off his chin to drop onto Dean’s chest while he rocks too fucking slowly onto Dean. It’s the sob that sputters out of Dean’s mouth when he’s expecting a moan instead. Then one leads to two, to four, to him gasping and whining and Sam cupping his face and whispering, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here.”
It’s Dean coming apart in a way he didn’t expect, on the inside of himself that’s like the worst and best orgasm he’s ever had.
It’s Sam, sweet, stupid, Sammy, still holding him when dawn comes on Dean’s first day without their dad.