#samdean prompt

[tsukiyo-7]

Hearts will dream again Lungs will breathe in Wash away the sins It's where it begins Feet won't fail you now Arms won't let you down Wash away the sins It's where it begins

[jayjay-thejet-plane]

Betrayal

[Soulless Sam watching as Dean gets turned into a vampire]

bonus funky colours below

[fandom-hoarder]

For @wincestwednesdays Wincest Fest

7/24 Prompt: sunshine

_

tastes like sunshine

The road is smooth, and Baby purrs strong and steady under Dean’s hands as he drives. Dean glances over to the passenger seat for what feels like the millionth—billionth—time, finding his brother still beside him, sleeping peacefully; mouth open; his large hand holding his place in the book he fell asleep reading. Sun breaks through the clouds in the sky, and shines itself across Sam’s face like a caress, chin to cheek, becoming increasingly insistent. Sam scrunches his face, shying away from the light and its wakefulness. Sam is twelve and sixteen and twenty-two and twenty-nine and thirty-seven and timeless all at once, and Dean can’t stop staring.

Sam scrunches again, turning his face into the seat, poorly hiding the pink blooming in his cheeks and across his nose. Dean can’t help the adoring grin that stretches his cheeks.

“You’re gonna crash if you don’t look at the road soon,” Sam says, his voice thick with sleep and smothered affection.

“And what? We’re already dead, Sammy,” Dean quips.

Sam snorts softly. His soft, pink mouth spreads helplessly, white teeth peeking out between his lips. Dean reaches over—ruffles Sam’s hair, strokes his cheek where the sun caressed it—and Sam’s smile spreads, face alight and eyes aglow. And Dean wants—-

Sam’s lips are warm, and taste like sunshine when Dean covers them with his. Sam’s book slides to the floor as he reaches for Dean’s face, kissing him back. And it’s Heaven.

[miraidashinomia]

I think spn fic writers are sleeping on writing time travel fics to the 40s-50s when American Men of Letters were still alive, and exploring Sam and Dean's relationship with Henry, and even meeting Henry's father, and MOL being shocked by the future and by the boys' behavior like Henry was when he traveled to the future, and Sam and Dean hating MOL because of their strict hierarchy and like restricted access to the knowledge depending on your rank, which will INFURIATE Sam... So many unexplored possibilities... Someone write a fic I'm beggin'

[samofmine]

Prompt if you're still taking em: extremely possessive manipulative jealous little freak Sam deliberately being all over Dean while someone's trying to flirt with him. Dean is super oblivious when it comes to Sam's tactics (and more than a little deranged) and just passes it off as his sweet baby brother needing to be close, but the stranger is rightfully uncomfortable with such a blatant show of intimacy between brothers and spooked by the dark, threatening look in Sam's eyes. Pre-series would be so cute!

Dean is talking to this annoying blonde chick who saw them alone at the dining booth and decided to take her chance at hitting on Dean.

Sam hates her.

He doesn't even know what her name is, but he hates her.

It's been a lifetime since dad went outside to talk on the phone to someone and Sam just wants him to come back and take them out of here.

He finds a popsicle inside his pocket and unwraps it, sucking on it, almost bored to death.

The girl laughs way too loud and what Dean said wasn't even funny.

Sam rolls his eyes and scoots closer to Dean, mumbling "'m sleepy" and laying his head down on his lap, putting his arm on top of him.

"Try to take a nap, Sammy. Dad will be back soon."

Dean's worried gaze leaves him too soon and he goes back to talking to her.

"He's so cute!" The girl says, and Sam has to clench his fists when he realizes she's talking about him, stopping himself from pulling her ugly hair or snapping her neck.

He hates the way she's looking at Dean. Can't she see he belongs to him? Dean can't give her any attention. His attention belongs to Sam.

Sam meets her gaze and makes a point of rubbing his brother's crotch with his nose, keeping eye contact.

She's frowning at him, confused and in awe, and Sam takes advantage of the position he's in and the attention he got from her to go a step further. He starts sucking on his pospicle very suggestively, holding it close to Dean's crotch.

Dean doesn't notice. Of course.

But the girl's face goes pale and she steps back. Finally.

Dean grabs Sam's hair, laughing awkwardly, and Sam smiles to himself when he notices he's getting hard.

"I... I should go." The girl says, looking terrified. She gives Sam one last glance and San makes a point of kissing the popsicle and winking at her. She almost runs out of the diner.

Sam laughs and hides his face on Dean's crotch.

"What the hell. What did I do wrong?"

Sam looks up at him.

"Maybe she got tired of your ugly face."

Dean glares at him.

"Shut up."

He grabs Sam's popsicle and shoves it in his own mouth, not minding Sam's drool coating the entire thing.

Sam holds his breath, enjoying the view of Dean sucking on his popsicle.

He crosses his legs as hard as he can and waits for dad to come back. He can't wait to get home and lock himself in the bathroom.

[wastemanjohn]

always female sam sharing a bed with dean and while spooning, dean grinds on her in his sleep so sam pulls her underwear aside and lets dean rub up against her and oops she's getting fucked by her sleeping brother now. maybe also he wakes up right before or as he cums and keeps going but pretends he didn't wake up?

<3 thanks so much for this anon, the way this has been on my mind CONSTANTLY. i'm afraid i got so excited i didn't see the "spooning" part so it starts a little differently than your prompt but i hope this is still okay!

cw: explicit, implied past underage, consent issues

Sam's not been sleeping great. Not that she ever sleeps great, or even the much more achievable well - not with the memory of her girlfriend's melting face popping up in excruciating detail every time she closes her eyes, anyway. Not with the constant niggle of worry, no, frustration, with Dad and his unknown whereabouts - yeah, neither of these things make for ideal, eight-hour rest conditions. They're not exactly lavender oil on her pillow.

And Dean - well, Dean is the furthest thing from lavender oil. From any kind of peace at all.

Sam's lying with her back to her brother, glaring at the fuzzy dark shape of the motel room's divider. Dean's latest spell of rumbling snores show no sign of letting up any time soon, and he's hogging half of the lower portion of the comforter between his tangled legs. If Sam tries to tug some away for herself, Dean huffs indignantly the way he does when she tries to get ahold of his car keys, until Sam clicks her tongue and gives up. Even when he's not tossing and fidgeting, he's spreading his stupid body out, encroaching on what is definitely Sam's side of the bed. Burned alive girlfriends and missing fathers aside, anyone would be hard pressed to drift off while sharing a bed with a 6'2 hunter with all the sleeping prowess of a spoiled toddler.

Sam makes another fruitless tug at the comforter. Another attempt at closing her eyes. The thing is, since Dean's "death", their little flirtations with felony fraud have had to take a backseat. Money's tight. It's Spaghetti-O's for dinner tight. It's hole up in places with cockroaches in the bath tight. It's share a bed, or get cozy on the floor tight. And it fucking sucks.

Although, Sam can't help but think, something about it is weirdly nostalgic. Money was tight more often than not growing up, and when Dad went off on work for weeks at a time she was quite often stuck bunking with Dean, enduring his nocturnal antics. She feels like she's sixteen again, what with that familiar, unwashed-head smell of the pillows. What with lying awake, worrying about Dad. It's as if she never left, sometimes. As if the last four years never happened at all.

And with that nostalgia, comes Sam's muscle memory - she drives her elbow into Dean's ribs without really thinking about it as he starts getting too close to her side of the bed again. He grunts indignantly, but mercifully fucks off. He rolls onto his back. A moment of silence; then that snoring starts up again. With a vengeance, like retaliation for the elbow.

Sam sighs, loud, pointed, pissed; rustles the sheets for good measure. Grimaces into the darkness. Her mind is so loud.

The thing is, it's been months. They're no hotter on Dad's trail than they were the night Sam left California behind for good. Dad probably doesn't even want to see her, what with the way things were left four years ago; but fuck, Sam's dying to see him. Dying to - is that really how lonely she feels tonight? Or is it Dad being one of the only two people she has left, knowing it, and still not fucking showing up?

Anger creeps through her. God, now's not the time for this. No wonder you can't sleep.

She takes a breath, like Jess taught her, deep into her lungs, manage the anger; and maybe Sam does drift off for a short time, to those thoughts. Those lonely-Dad-Jess thoughts. And she must've fallen asleep, even lightly, even a little, for that firm grip around her waist to startle her back to alertness.

Her instincts sneak up on her. The spark of adrenaline, readiness for a fight - hand halfway under her pillow for her knife - until she realizes. Remembers.

Dean. Just Dean.

Dean grunts; that arm tightens around her waist, as if to tell her that it's alright. Sam relaxes a bit. Too easily.

She can feel the length of Dean's body, curled around hers like putty; the furnace-like warmth of his bare chest, the thighs half-entwined with hers. His breath hot and a little erratic on the back of her neck. His foot feels cool on her bare calve.

He's hard. Sam can feel the outline of his dick as he presses all insistent against her ass; rolls his hips, does it again. Grunts, deep, satisfied.

Sam's sex drive has been non-existent the last few months. But that grunt - Sam hasn't heard Dean make that noise in a long time.

And this is nostalgic, alright. Sam doesn't remember when it started, exactly; just that she never felt all that differently than she does tonight, when she was fifteen or so, disconnected, alone, living in a world no one else seemed to understand. Dean lived in the same world on paper, but it was different for him. Guys were afraid of him; no one messed with him. Girls dropped their panties for a smile and a few flirty words, spellbound by his wild charms.

Sam, though - people messed with Sam a lot. Boys never looked at her twice, back then. Dad - confusing, distant, absent, Dad - well, that made her feel the most alone of all. Along with Dean spending every night in the backseat of the Impala with a different bar skank, of course. Bragging about it when he got home, flushed and grinning, lipstick on his neck, perfume on his shirt. God, Sam wanted to kill those girls. She wanted to kneel on their chests and wrap her hands around their throats and revel in the moment the light in their eyes went out. It scared her, didn't stop her thinking it.

This, though - this never scared her. What Dean did, sometimes, in the dark. In his sleep. And sure, he never did it when he was awake - but it was something. Something that felt good; something that some part of him was willing to give her, even if it wasn't conscious, even if it wasn't much. And hell, Sam didn't have much in life that made her feel good.

And - nostalgia, muscle memory - when Sam's sure Dean's grinding has dislodged his boxers, she hikes up her oversized sleep t-shirt. Tilts her hips back. Reaches between her legs to push aside her panties. She lets Dean keep grinding, those hot-grunt puffs of air on the nape of her neck; shuffles, scoots around awkwardly, until the angle is just right. Until she feels his bare, slick head right where it needs to be.

Dean, with only his downstairs brain active, is eager. He fills her up with one quick, clumsy thrust. Knocks the breath out of her.

It hurts, it's been a while, she's not quite wet enough to take all of him at once like that; but Sam can manage a little pain, feeling something, anything, is good, better than before. She bends her knee, draws her leg up to her chest to give Dean better access; he takes it. Takes ahold of her hip, moving into it as natural as he always did; and Sam turns her head, bites down on the edge of her musty pillow to keep herself quiet.

Just like old times. And, just like old times, it's - nice. Comforting, to feel full like this, touched like this. To feel the brother she once thought she'd never see again close, close like this.

It's been a while, since Sam has felt comforted, touched, close.

She huffs around the pillow. Trails a hand down her body, shudders for it; flesh hums beneath her t-shirt. Her cunt feels hot inside her panties, and her clit is slick and ready for her touch. It feels - fuck.

Her hair is in her face; her fingers grab a handful of pilled sheet as Dean starts moving faster. The clumsy, jabbing motions of his cock, giving her no choice but to open for him; his grunts and sighs, sounding a little delirious; that scorch-hot breath, that grip tight enough on her hip to smart a little. Sam feels kinda stripped of control, kinda used. And it's not a bad feeling; so she lets go. Drifts into it. Drifts into her body, the things it can do, feel. Rides it, as that burning, too-full sensation gives way to something much nicer. Something simple, the most uncomplicated pleasure there is.

Maybe it's the moan she can't hold in; or maybe Dean can feel it too. Either way, Sam can tell; sense it in her own body, the moment he wakes up.

She remembers this part; the way his satisfied grunts taper off, give way to heavy, confused breaths. The way Dean stills inside her, his body going rigid against hers. Disoriented. In a little shock, like this has never happened before, or something; and Sam's never sure if Dean would really stop, given the chance. But again, that muscle memory - she reaches around to grab his wrist. Squeeze, hard - don't you fucking dare.

Dean gets the message. And Sam remembers, now; remembers how Dean would go all lax against her, like he was trying to give the impression he was still asleep; lax, apart from his hips, the rhythm that wouldn't let up, doesn't now. She remembers how, because Dean is meant to be sleeping, he'll let Sam move that arm of his, move it until his hand is cupping her tit just right; and even though he's meant to be fucking asleep, Dean's fingers will close greedily around it anyway. Squeeze, even, as those thrusts get faster, erratic, those grunts choked like he's dying; and Sam even remembers how to angle her hips just right so she can come on Dean's cock, just in time, before Dean growls, one last jerk of his hips, before she feels his release flush inside her. She can feel the strip of his teeth against her shoulder where his mouth is open, and she presses up into it, tilts her head back, eyes closed, fleeting burst of ecstasy; and if this were something else, something different, then maybe they would kiss now. But this isn't that. God knows what it is, but it was never that.

That's okay. It needs to be okay.

They're still for a moment or two. Sam catches her breath, listens, in the dark, to Dean doing the same; waits, to see if the next part will be the way she remembers too. And it pans out pretty much the same; Dean's hand falls away from her tit. He pulls out of her almost as fast as he'd pushed in. Sam feels the ghost of his breath on the nape of her neck one last time, before Dean rolls over, away. Without a word.

Sam listens to his breaths slow down in the darkness. It's a while - really quite some time - before his snoring starts up again.

It's around this time that Sam realizes she hasn't moved. Hand still in her panties, body rooted to the mattress; Dean's come inside her, warm, sticky, a thin trail starting to leak out down her thigh. Not good; there's always a little anxiety about that. But Sam's never heard of a guy who can put on a rubber in his sleep, so it is what is is.

She licks her dry lips. It's getting light outside. Somewhere must be open for breakfast.

She slips out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake Dean this time; heads for the shower. Thinks about finding coffee, about getting a few hours of research in before the day starts. Because that's all she can do, really, for now. All she can do until the world wakes up again.

[tgtbata]

mewwy chwistmas 🎄

[hearthouses]

wip emoji meme

Send me an emoji and I'll write five lines of any of the following WIPs and share them:

🌹- Beauty and the Beast/Hades and Persephone-inspired Boy King Sam AU 🏳️‍⚧️ - Dean is born a gender-specific shapeshifter AU 💔 - Dean was pregnant when Sam left for Stanford AU ✝️ - First Time Set During Faith (1.12) Fic  🏚️- First Time Weecest set during a summer where Dean and Sam renovate an old house in Louisiana  🩸- Free to Be You and Me (5.03) AU where the Demon Blood scene goes further and Dean gets revenge ⛓️ - Fuck or Die Body Plus Body Modifcations Courtesy of The Stynes at End of S10 AU 👻 - Gothic Ghost Case Fic Set In Pre-Series Era 🪱 - John Uses Sam for Bait leading to Weecest Fuck or Die fic 🌕 - Post-Heart (2.17) AU Where Sam Gets Turned into a Werewolf  🏰 - Post-S3 Boy King Sam AU where he rescues Dean from Hell, but has to keep him safe in a house that is constantly moving locations  🦼 - Post-Series Finale Where Dean Lives, but is left disabled AU 👶 - Sam and Dean and the Five Kids they have throughout the years  🐺 - Sam and Dean are born werewolves AU mixed with Omegaverse Elements  🔪 - Sam and Dean Cope With Their Hell Trauma Through Kinkplay 💦 - Sam uses sex to sate Dean’s Mark of Cain urges, set around S10  💄- Slow Exploration into Dean’s gender identity via kink with Sam helping him and encouraging him  🚨 - Stanford Era Omegaverse AU with background John/Dean where Dean is left at an abortion clinic and Sam is called to come pick him up  🏕️ - Summer Camp Slasher Ghost Weecest Case Fic  🍬 - Trick ‘r’ Treat (2007)-Inspired Werewolf AU set in Pre-Series Era

Saw this going around and I've been in a slump and cannot pick what to write so thought I would try this. I don't do working titles, so very basic descriptions for now. I wasn't tagged, but I will tag: @ladyculebras, @mattdillon, @augustmourn, @theirwolfbicanthrope & anyone else who wants to do it!

[wincestuous-psychos]

guys send me asks i need attention desperately and i need to talk about wincest with someone so bad

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Prompt: Neither of them knew that while Sam was at Stanford, they’d each gotten a solitary small hidden tattoo.

[doublebarrelbrothers]

someone give me a wincest prompt!! i wanna write smthn maybe like 500 words...

[jayjay-thejet-plane]

SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A WINCHESTER🤠

Extra sketches below cut :D

Dean helping sam apply his lipstick😗 and the sam sketch plus a couple scribble deans~

(hopefully i’ll finish the lipstick one i quite like it)

[wayward-sons]

Wayward Sons - Monthly Prompts: March

Starting now, we're going to post monthly prompt-lists (around the fifteenth of the previous month) to help inspire our wonderful fandom-creators to celebrate Sam and Dean Winchester - Because why the hell not? Gifs, Edits, Fanart, Fanfic or anything in between - All is welcome as means to participate, as long as your work somehow features Sam and Dean in any way, shape or form!

We will reblog all of your creations using the tag #waywardsonsevent Please make sure to use that tag as well while posting, so we don’t miss anything!

The Monthly Prompts for March are: • Compassion • "That's a lot of Teeth" • Silence • Cherry • "I f*cking hate Witches" • Unity • (Bon)fire • "What doesn't kill me should run, because now I'm f*cking pissed" • Clover • Song: "Black Velvet" by Alannah Myles

You may use all of these in one single creation, do one creation for each or participate with as many (or as few) entries as you want (or can). Any which way you like to be inspired by this is fine! Just have fun ♥

Also: This is an inclusive project and meant for everyone who loves Sam and Dean! However, we reserve the right not to reblog any openly hostile and hateful content, for one very simple reason: We don’t want to.

Any questions? Just send us an ask ♥

[codependentfreaks]

I wanna write more wincest ficlets bc i love them and want to practice my english (which is not my first language). Can you guys send me some prompts? I'd really love that!

[flowers-in-the-basement]

Oh, hi. Saw you've asked for requests👀

What about some hurt/comfort, where they're just saying "thank you" to each other. Not those forced thank you at the end of episodes, when they're standing outside of the Impala in the middle of nowhere. Just very random and soft thank you for everything that they did for and to each other. From Sam to Dean, and from Dean to Sam. With some hugs, maybe tears and shy smiles.

THANK YOU SO MUCH

You have saved me

This is kinda off-prompt, feel free to throw books and underripe produce at me if you so wish.

Funny thing is, they might die right now. Not that it feels like it, they've been through worse than a routine haunting. But still, even the best have died on hunts like this, over-confident and drunk. Not that Dean's drunk. Not that he's not drunk.

Still, they're boarded up in an attic, searching for something to burn. There's a chill in the air and they can both tell the ghost is near. Why it's not here right now, Dean can never figure out. Ghosts are weird.

Sam, with his strangely muscular arms, is prying up the rotten floorboards with a crowbar.

Dean is "keeping an eye out" an excuse to not show Sam how weak he is. But right now they seem safe and sound, waking over to Sam, boots on the soft wood.

Sam looks up at him, grunts in greeting.

It's maybe a stray spell from a witch, maybe a temporary madness but Dean is overwhelmed by the urge to thank him

"thanks, sammy"

Jesus fuck what is wrong with him. Idiot that he is, he continues

"I, I just really wanna thank you, it's just me 'an you, you know and you've had my back the entire time"

No matter what anyone tells you, this did not happen. Dean Winchester is not a sappy drunk.

Sammy's smile is so wide, its almost horrific. He moves from his position on the floor, stands up and walks real close.

"thanks too" it means so much more than that, and they both know it, years of taking care, years of fighting alone. Years of fighting together.

Sam hugs him.

No matter what anyone will tell you, those were not tears. A... piece of attic dust got in his eye.

Either way, once Dean is thoroughly ahem, distracted by the dust. The ghost shows up.

They step away to deal with it, but they don't take their eyes off eachother

[samofmine]

thank you anon i had a wonderful time writing this

Sam is Dean's. One way or another, that's pretty much the only thing Dean is certain of now.

Now.

It hasn't always been like this.

Back when they were younger, Dean was always anxious, always worried Sam would leave him one day. He was too different, too silent, too much in his own little world and as much as Dean prouded himself in being the only person Sam would allow to enter his world, he also knew one day this would change and he'd be locked out forever.

So it wasn't much of a surprise when he announced he was going to leave. Stanford.

But even though he saw it coming, it still felt like something died inside of him, a light going out.

And later when they eventually found their way to each other, Dean was certain Sam would leave again. He never wanted the life, never wanted to be part of a fucked up family. He wanted to be normal.

Now, Dean knows Sam has forgotten about that. He finally understands he's never gonna be normal.

Most importantly, he understands Dean is as much of a freak as he is. They're in this together for life.

And, yes, Dean knows Sam is his. In every way he wants him.

This... Thing between them, the thing Dean never knows how to name, has only started a couple years ago. Yes, Dean still feels a longing for his brother rooted deep inside his chest that will never go away, even when Sam is in his arms, moaning his name, panting against his lips, he still longs for him. He thinks this is the result of all the years they lost trying to fight against... this.

Last night, they were bored out of their minds and decided to get hammered together, like they hadn't done in a long time.

Dean loves to see Sam drunk, loves how easily he laughs, how carefree he seems. They could talk about anything and laugh it off.

So, these are the only moments Sam really talks about his time in Stanford. Dean doesn't complain, really, talking about that time only makes the longing grow inside him, but he can handle it from time to time.

Yesterday Sam started to list the people he hooked up with while at college.

At first, Dean was laughing it off.

But then he mentioned someone. A guy.

Dean doesn't care to remember his name. But he does remember what Sam said about him.

The guy was the first one to fuck him.

Sam lost his virginity to a college no-name boy.

And Dean couldn't laugh about that even if he tried.

Which brings him to where he is now.

He found a spell in one of Rowena's books and spent the entire day getting things ready. If it all goes according to plan, Dean will go back in time.

He will reclaim what's his.

He finishes drinking the purple, oddly glowing liquid that tastes like metal and cheap grape juice and says the magic words.

He feels dizzy at first, like he lost consciousness for half a second and came back, and when he realizes... It worked.

Hell yes. Now he has to go find Sammy.

-

Sam is in bed, it's been an overwhemingly long day with too much to do and he really needs to rest.

But, of course, not even this goes according to plan.

He hears a loud noise coming from the apartment's kitchen and jumps out of bed.

He's terrified, hands shaking, and a million thoughts run through his head as he tries to remember what he should do. What he was taught.

He enters the kitchen with a baseball bat in hand, but, before he can see anything someone tackles him to the floor.

His eyes finally adjust to the darkness and he sees him - Dean.

"Easy, tiger!" He says.

Sam frowns.

"Get off me!"

Sam frees himself from Dean and walks to the light switch.

Now, with the lights on, he can see the boy - well, the man - clearly.

It's him, but it's not him as Sam remembers him.

"What the hell?"

"Missed you too, little brother." Dean smirks.

"How the- You-" Sam blinks, trying to gather his thoughts.

Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming?

What kind of a weird ass dream is this? An old version of Dean breaking into his apartment?

As he thinks, Dean starts going through the kitchen's fridge, grabbing two bottles of beer.

"When you're done freaking out," Dean says, walking to the living room, "Come have a drink with me."

Sam takes another five minutes before he gets himself to follow Dean.

Dean explains everything to him. He explains how he came from the future. How Sam left Stanford, for a reason he won't mention, and they're together a few years from now.

Sam sips on his beer, feeling dizzy.

"But- why? Why would you come here talk to me?"

Dean's eyes darken.

"I know a secret of yours, Sammy."

Dean's voice is so different, even deeper than it already was. His eyes are still a green that seems to spark like a gemstone, and the crinkles by it only make him more good looking.

So, Future Sam probably still hasn't gotten over his crush.

"What secret?" He asks skeptically.

Dean smirks and scoots closer to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

He leans in to whisper on his ear.

"I know you've been thinking about me. In ways you shouldn't."

Sam widens his eyes and backs away from Dean on reflex.

"W-What?"

Dean's eyes are even darker now and he looks so sure, so confident, it makes Sam shiver.

"I have a secret, too." He says. "Few years from now, we're gonna be all over each other. I can't get enough."

Sam blushes at the words. He swallows dry, thinking of what to say. Dean's hand finds his thigh, traveling up, stopping on his hip.

Dean pulls him closer.

"Tell me, Sammy." He says, "Tell me how much you want me."

Sam takes a deep breath. Dean starts to kiss down his neck, pulling his hair lightly in a way he only now realizes he likes it, and yeah, there's no way this isn't a dream.

Sam lets out a whimper, getting lost in the feeling. He has wanted this for so long, so damn long, and he hated himself for it.

And now, Dean - older Dean, but still Dean - is right here, giving him everything he always wanted and more.

"Dean..." He says, blushing harder over how needy he sounds.

Dean nibbles on his ear.

"I want you, little brother." He says, "Want you so bad."

He turns Sam's face to look at him and Sam gets lost inside his eyes before he leans in, kissing him with so much desperation he feels himself losing his breath.

He straddles Dean's lap and of course Dean holds him, urging him to take his shirt off and attacking his nipples as soon as they're bare. Sam is already a mess, whimpering and gasping and moaning Dean's name, painfully hard in his pants.

Dean's hand touches him through the sweatpants.

"Tell me." Dean demands, and Sam can't even think of not answering.

"Want you." He breathes out. "Always wanted you, Dean. So fucking bad."

That turns a switch inside Dean and he groans, lifting Sam's body and laying him on the couch, taking off his pants and hovering over him as he takes off his own.

Dean steps back and looks at Sam, naked on the couch. Sam feels his entire body burn.

"You're so beautiful." Dean says, closer now, his hand travelling Sam's body with adoration. "So damn hot, made me lose my mind back then. Still does."

He kisses down Sam's torso and oh, finally, he touches Sam's cock, pumping it twice before taking the head in his mouth, eyes locked with Sam's the entire time.

Sam feels like his brain is melting, he can't do much other than whine and moan Dean's name, so he leans back and watches Dean, leaking precum inside his mouth.

When he's getting close, Dean lets his cock go with a pop. He whines louder.

"It's okay, baby brother. I'll make you feel real good."

Dean rubs the head of his cock, squeezes more precum out and coats his finger with it.

Sam knows where this is going.

Dean starts rubbing his fingers against his hole.

Sam lets out a gasp.

"De- Dean!"

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. Let me take care of you."

"No, Dean, I- I never, I mean, I haven't-"

Dean lets out a groan, tip of his finger entering Sam, and Sam shivers at the feeling.

"I know, Sammy." Dean says, "Gonna be your first. Gonna be the first cock you take in your virgin, tight little hole."

Dean's words are dripping with want, hunger even, and Sam all but melts under his touch.

His finger is all the way in now and he's thrusting it in and out, slowly.

"Ask for it, Sammy." Dean says. "Tell me you want me to take your virginity. Tell me you're mine."

Sam feels shivers running down his body as Dean starts to lick his hole while he thrusts his finger, overwhelmed by how gentle he's being.

"Want-" Sam mumbles. "Want you. Want you to be my first. Please, De-"

Dean adds another finger, this one covered with spit, and starts thrusting in harder. Sam feels weird at first, stretching around his brother's fingers, the burning pain too unfamiliar, but then Dean hits something inside him that makes his body jolt with pleasure and Sam hears himself begging for more of this, more of Dean.

Three fingers in and Sam is almost crying, hips moving trying to meet Dean's thrusts, wanting more of that feeling.

Dean takes his fingers out and leans down to kiss Sam, this kiss filled with passion and want and Sam feels the safest and most loved he's ever felt all his life.

"Gonna fuck you now, baby brother."

Dean says, and Sam feels him coming in, stretching him so much more, he feels like he's going to break, but Dean goes slow and kisses him the entire time until he's fully in.

Sam feels so full his body is taken over by an overwhelming bliss.

He wraps his legs around Dean's waist and pants against his mouth.

"Fuck me." He whines.

And oh, Dean does.

He thrusts inside him, slow but increasingly harder, groaning and giving Sam kisses and bites down his neck.

Sam can't put his mind to understand what Dean's saying, but he gets bits and pieces of it, like "So tight, so fucking tight" and "So perfect for me" and "Made for my cock".

Dean starts thrusting harder and Sam's cock is throbbing against his stomach, almost painfully. He reaches to touch it but Dean stops him, grabs his hand and lifts it, holding it on top of his head.

"Please- I need-" Sam whines, Dean hitting the spot inside him hard with every thrust. He feels like he's going insane from the feeling, too overwhelming, too new.

"You can come like this." Dean pants on top of him, "Come on my cock, Sammy."

Sam whines at the words because fuck, this is too much, Dean fucks him even harder and Sam feels it building up inside him, painfully slow with his neglected cock twitching and leaking, and then it hits him. He lets out a broken sob as he comes all over himself and Dean.

"That's it, Sammy. So good, such a good baby brother for me, fuck." Dean fucks him through his orgasm, groaning as Sam clenches around him, and it's not long until he's spilling inside him, warm and deep and Sam whimpers at the feeling.

When Dean pulls out Sam feels incredibly empty, and he grabs Dean's arms and pulls him down towards him, kissing him passionately, like he's still hungry.

Dean's hand finds his cock while they're kissing and Sam flinches, too sensitive, but his cock is twitching on Dean's hand.

He pumps it slowly until Sam is moaning against his mouth.

"That's it. You did so good, came so good just from my cock." Dean praises him, "Gonna make you come again, baby."

Sam is thrusting up in Dean's fist before he realizes and he comes with a scream this time, entire body shaking.

He falls asleep right after, exhausted.

He doesn't see Dean licking him clean afterwards, and he doesn't see Dean kissing his forehead and saying goodbye.

When Sam wakes up, he wonders if it was all a dream, but his body is still sore and he doesn't know how this is possible.

Years later, when he's back on the road with Dean, older Dean's words still haven't left his mind.

"Few years from now, we're gonna be all over each other."

So, Sam waits.

And he knows damn well it will be worth the wait.