dime_liora | Talking About Changing

Title: Talking About Changing
Rating: NC-17
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Wordcount: 2,680
Summary: Sex with Dean, Sam finds, changes pretty drastically once Sam isn’t in the life anymore. Written for the

smpc .
Disclaimer: I don’t own what I built on, but I own what I built.
Warnings: Angry/slightly rough sex, expletives, insults between brothers.

Things change.

Sam knows that better than anybody, but it’s hard to equate that knowledge with this moment. The first time they’ve come together in two years, and it’s so different Sam almost can’t recognize Dean. This isn’t the brother he left standing in the living room with his hands clenched shut tighter than his mouth. This isn’t the brother that Sam kissed the night before, the one that chuckled when he came deep inside of Sam. This is a beast.

A beast Sam created.

----

“Sammy, Sammy, Jesus Sammy.”

Dean’s hands smoothed up his hips, slid along his ribs before rough fingertips settled on his nipples and stroked gently.

“So ready for me. So hard and needy.”

Sam closed his eyes, enjoyed the feeling of Dean’s tongue flicking out to follow his fingers as they circled and rubbed, laid out patterns over his nipples and along the flesh of his chest.

“You’re so beautiful Sammy. Just laid out for me like this. Spread your legs for me. Let me open you up.”

And Sam did, stomach fluttering with nerves and need as Dean’s mouth worked down his torso, as those strong hands rubbed and soothed. It was always like this. Dean taking his time, letting Sam get so worked up that by the time Dean had him stretched and spread out he was inarticulate and gasping. Sam knew Dean liked it that way.

Plush pink lips trailed along the lines of his hips as warm green eyes settled on his face.

“I love you.”

-----

“You fucked him.” Dean’s voice is a snarl carried on a wave of cheap whiskey and smoke smell. Sam can’t see him from his current position of being pinned face against the wall, but he can feel the lines of Dean and tell that this isn’t a joke.

His brother is furious, and he’s holding with intent.

“So? What do you care?”

Dean shakes Sam so that his head bounces against the plaster and his wrists pull tight in Dean’s grip.

“You fucking know what I care. You fucking know.”

Sam’s hard, fingers curled tight into fists and cock rubbing against the confines of his pants as his brother breathes hate into his ears.

“No I don’t. I haven’t seen you in almost two goddamn years. You don’t even answer your fucking phone. Don’t pull that shit with me.” Sam slams his foot down on Dean’s and hears his brother hiss. The grip on his wrists gets tight past the point of painful, and Dean leverages his arms up so that Sam has to press his face against the wall to hold in the yelp of pain.

“Oh, ‘I promise Dean’ and ‘just yours Dean.’ And then you had to leave because you couldn’t handle hunting and what did I say?”

His breath leaves him in a rush when one of Dean’s hands leaves his wrists and pulls hard, popping buttons and ripping cloth so that Sam’s shirt is open and cold air is rushing over his skin.

“You don’t get to do this to me, Dean. You don’t get to do this. It doesn’t matter who I fuck. You can’t suddenly be-“

Dean’s fingers grab his hip, squeeze hard enough to bruise, and Sam sucks in air.

“Dutch Fucking Miller. Dutch. You did it because you knew that bastard would come around bragging about fucking my slut brother.”

Sam slams his head back into Dean’s face, hears the gasp of pain and spluttered out expletive, but he’s out of Dean’s hold and facing him.

“Well somebody has to fuck me.”

Dean roars and charges into him.

-----

“Oh fuck. Fuck. Dean, please.”

His brother’s tongue moved in slow circles along the shaft of his cock, fingers slick with lubricant and tracing tiny lines into Sam’s shaking thighs. It was fucking torture.

“What do you want Sammy? Want me to put your dick in my mouth? Wanna feel me suck you off?”

Sam nodded desperately, one hand clawing at the sheets and the other tapping Dean’s shoulder in some kind of Morse Code plea. As if Dean didn’t already know exactly what Sam wanted, what he needed, and wasn’t drawing it out on purpose.

That mouth, the one Sam had been staring at for so long, pressed against the head of his cock as Dean’s tongue dipped out and tasted him. A tease. Everything was a tease with Dean it seemed.

“Say it. Tell me what you want.”

He moaned helplessly, head slamming back into the pillow in his frustration before Sam could find his voice and make sense.

“Suck my dick.” It should have sounded forceful, manly, but as so often happened Sam knew he just sounded desperate and needy.

“As you wish.” Dean winked, lapped again at the precome leaking out of Sam’s dick, and then parted his lips and swallowed Sam down.

“Oh fuck.” It was good, it was always good, but Sam seemed to forget from blowjob to blowjob just how talented Dean’s mouth was. Just how amazing it felt wrapped around him. There was never any warning it seemed that this time would just as mind-blowing as the last.

Dean hummed happily around Sam’s cock, eyes darting up to meet Sam’s before settling back down on his target. Sam felt the brush of one fingertip over his hole, and he reminded himself to relax before that brush became persistent pressure.

“Your fucking mouth. How is your fucking mouth so amazing? Finger me. Finger me while you suck me. Please.”

His brother moaned, always a sucker for dirty talk, and then Dean’s finger breached Sam as his thumb continued to circle Sam’s hole. Gentle, sweet, forceful, all the traits that Sam had come to know and understand in Dean wrapped up in the suction of his mouth and the motion of his fingers.

“Dean! Fuck, Dean!”

------

“Fuck you, Dean!” Sam’s face is pressed into the mattress, Dean’s hands ripping his jeans off while his brother’s heavy boot kicks Sam’s legs further apart. Dean pulls the jeans and Sam’s boxers down to his ankles and then steps on them to keep Sam from kicking him.

“Not tonight Sammy. Tonight it’s me fucking you.” There’s the snick of a bottle opening and then cold lube hits Sam’s ass missing the hole at first entirely. Dean curses low under his breath and then Sam’s cheeks are roughly parted and the lube squirts on its target as Sam hisses in discomfort.

Despite his anger, despite how badly he wants to rear up and hit Dean, Sam still arches up into the feel of Dean’s fingers touching his hole. Still yearns for something like that last night before he left for Stanford. The way they moved together so effortlessly, how Dean treated him like he was something precious, and how he felt whole if just for a little while.

Sam hasn’t felt anything like that since he left.

And he doesn’t feel it now. Dean spears him fast and hard with two fingers, doesn’t stretch him so much as spread him once and then pull his fingers out. The blunt head of Dean’s cock presses against Sam’s entrance, and his mouth touches Sam’s ear.

“Tell me how bad you want it slut.”

----

“Tell me you want it Sammy. Tell me you want me.” Dean’s fingers rubbed little circles in Sam’s hips, his mouth pressed at random points along Sam’s shoulders and neck.

Sam arched his back just a little, so that the tip of Dean’s cock pressed into him. His brother moaned as Sam tried to get the leverage to slide back more, and then Dean’s arms held him still and kept him in place.

“You gotta tell me Sammy. I gotta hear it.”

One of Dean’s hands slid down his side, gripped his dick, and Sam let out a little cry and then licked his lips.

“Want it. Always want it Dean. Please.”

And then Dean was in him, control only a little bit better than Sam’s, and everything was right. The slip slide of Dean’s chest against his back, the calloused grip of Dean’s hand on his cock, and the sweet fullness of Dean’s dick inside of him. It was where he was supposed to be. It was the only place he was totally comfortable. And he was leaving it.

“Dean?”

His brother’s movements gained intensity, hips swiveling slightly as he picked up his pace and sped up the rhythm of his hand.

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean was slightly out of breath, fingers shaking a little on his skin.

“Always? This?” He couldn’t make it full sentences, couldn’t give Dean more than the barest outline of his thoughts. This couldn’t be the end. Sam was sure of it. He and Dean had more than enough fights under their belts that would have ended anyone else, but they’d always made it through.

This wasn’t like the kids around him that hooked up and broke apart in the course of weeks. This was his brother, this was his life, and Sam would always have Dean. Dean would always love him. Wouldn’t he?

----

Sam gasps as Dean seats himself fully, burn too sudden and rough, and Sam can barely hold back the cry of pain. It’s good, it’s passionate, but it’s terrible. It’s the antithesis of everything Sam remembers.

Dean thumbs his rim, pressure on the inside and outside now, and Sam can’t hold back the sounds anymore. Spite will only silence him for so long it seems.

“Did he give it to you this good? Was it everything you wanted? Guess this is what I get for believing-“ Dean’s hips jerk hard and Sam rips at the sheets and feels his cock weeping against his belly as his whole body is thrown with the force. “Believing you only wanted me. That you’d keep it for me.”

His brother’s arm is right next to his head, and Sam turns his face and sinks his teeth deep into Dean’s forearm. Lets out a cry when Dean’s arm jerks out of place and sends him crashing down so Sam’s pressed full body into the mattress and unable to move.

“Like you- fuck- like you haven’t slept around. Like you haven’t fucked anything that would spread for you.”

There’s a bright flare of pain as Dean’s hand slaps Sam’s ass and his cock drives in so deep Sam’s out of breath. His dick jumps at the pain, precome spurting out and an orgasm right there on the horizon.

“Haven’t. I haven’t. Jesus. And you left because of hunting so you could fuck the first hunter that wiggled his dick at you.”

“Someone had to fuck me and you weren’t around.”

And he wasn’t. Dean hadn’t stuck with him. Hadn’t held out for him. Everything Sam had believed back then about Dean’s unconditional love had been fake, and now his brother was marking him up the way he once labeled his knife so Sam would stop stealing it.

Fingers almost punctured his flesh, Dean’s grip suddenly so tight that the pain brought tears to Sam’s eyes. Just the pain.

“Too fucking tight Sammy. Must not have done a good job. Only one who ever knew how to give it to you was me.”

----

“Only me, Sammy. Always me. I promise.” Dean’s lips traced his ear, his hands stroked Sam’s jerking stomach muscles, petted him through his orgasm. Sam came with Dean’s promise, felt Dean’s hips stutter as his brother followed him.

They collapsed together then, arms and legs tangled and Dean softening slowly inside of him. He was a mess of come and sweat, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the truth of it. The truth of them.

Dean was his and he was Dean’s. Things would change, so many things but not that.

----

Sam came hard, his cry bitten off into the messy comforter as Dean fucks him through his orgasm and then fills Sam’s ass with his own release. They stay like that, tangled and breathing harshly, and Sam wonders if he could hate Dean anymore than he does in this moment.

For making Sam still want him, for making him believe, but mostly for making him hate himself.

Dean doesn’t talk. Doesn’t move. He stays still so long Sam is sure his brother has succumbed to the alcohol and passed out.

Except when he tries to detangle them, to slip away, Dean’s grip tightens on him. And then Sam feels wetness against the back of his neck that has nothing to do with sweat.

“Just tell me why. Why you would do that. Why him.”

Sam’s own breath is shaky, Dean so rarely lets himself be this vulnerable, and Sam knows that he could take out all his anger and spite right now. Could unleash it like a weapon and drive Dean away for forever. This could be the last time he has to look at Dean. To see the thing he really wanted and couldn’t have.

Because that’s what this whole thing has taught him. Sam can’t have Dean. Not Dean and a normal life. Sam can’t be who has to be to survive and be with his brother. And maybe it’s kinder not just to him but to Dean to end it here and now. To close this chapter and move on. Because not having Dean at all will be easier than having him in part. Then living with the memories.

Except he can’t. At his core Sam knows it’s selfish, but he can’t lose Dean. He can give up his family, his father, his whole life, but he can’t give up Dean. Everything can change but this.

“I didn’t. Dutch got drunk, hit on me, and passed out on my couch. Maybe he honestly thought we did. Maybe he just wanted to piss off John Winchester’s kid. I don’t know Dean, but I didn’t. It’s just been you.”

He hears Dean’s shaky breath, feels the way Dean’s hands change to gentle and sweet, and the shift is so subtle and shocking that Sam can’t think. Can’t respond.

“Why didn’t you say that first?”

Sam closes his eyes, the only protection he has, the only cover he can afford himself.

“Because you gave me up. So I wanted to do the same to you.”

Dean’s lips stutter across his skin, unsure, movement with no sound.

Sam can’t parcel out the words they mean either.

-----

“Sammy, I know you’re thinking about…about leaving. And I just want you to know that I don’t like it, and I don’t understand it, but you’re still my brother.”

He doesn’t respond by telling Dean that he has his bus ticket paid for. That he’s already got a roommate in a dorm and a schedule for the fall. Instead he tightened his hand around Dean’s and stayed silent and still.

“This life isn’t for everybody. Maybe it isn’t for you. But I am. I always will be. You know that right? No matter what gets said later that this is the truth? That this won’t change?”

He lifted Dean’s hand to his mouth and kissed the shaking fingers.

“Yeah. I know.”

----

Dean’s dressing, hands sure and smooth, and the sun peeks through the cheap blinds and reminds Sam that he has class this morning. That Stanford will go on the same as it always does.

“I got a hunt out in Colorado. Nothing big. I was thinking I’d come back by afterward, maybe we can get a beer and you can tell me about college life. What do you think?”

Sam looks up then, eyes landing on Dean’s face. His brother is calm, sure, and that means inside he’s blowing up and doesn’t want Sam to know.

“Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Dean’s mouth twitches, fights itself, and then becomes a smile that is small, and weak, and just for Sam. So beautiful it hurts to look at.

“This, this thing we’re doing? The thing that led us here? It’s gotta change Sammy. Something’s gotta give. You know that right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: "Changing"-Airborne Toxic Event

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

thestarkat.livejournal.com

Wow. That was so heartbreaking but so good. It punched me right in the feels. Dean so vulnerable when his anger was done then Sam's reveal. Ow, my poor heart. Wonderful job.

From:

These fragments I have shored against my ruins.

Talking About Changing

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