Title: Letting Go
Author: pixel2817
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is owned by some big scary corporation, anything vaguely original is mine
Warnings/Squicks: wincest, oral
Beta(s): don't have one
Distribution: hell, if anyone wants it just take it. Just drop me a line so I can take a look.
Summary: PWP a little angst and smut

***

Dean shifts a little, trying to ease the ache in his knees from the cold motel room floor. Flexing his fingers on the thighs of the man in front of him, wanting this to be over sooner rather than later. It's all too familiar to Dean, starting off with teasing licks and nibbles, graduating to sucking, swallowing, humming, all the little tricks he's learned over the years that are guaranteed to make sure the whole thing is over as quickly as possible. Sure enough the thrusts are coming faster now, the cock driving hard into his mouth; his partner's control swept away.


Fingers twist and flex in his hair, trying to pull him this way and that, but Dean keeps his hair short for a reason, he's learned the hard way how little control he has when someone can use his hair like a handle, to push and shove their way inside him. He might be the one on his knees, but that doesn't mean he's letting anyone else call the shots.


He can hear the words now, between the gasps and moans he's forcing from his partner, "Cocksucker.....slut.....whore...." There was a time they'd have bothered him, but he's heard them a thousand times before in a hundred dirty alleys and backrooms, now they just mean that they're almost done. He remembers how much it used to hurt, the humiliation more than the pain, back when he was fourteen and he'd first realised that this was the only way he could keep Sam fed while John was off hunting.


They'd hurt so much more when they'd been spat from his father's lips, after he caught Dean in the backroom of some bar a year or so later. The disgust and contempt in John's voice had been bad enough, but the look of horror in his father's eyes had just about broken him. It took nearly a week for John to ask why he'd done it, and when Dean had explained that there'd been no money left and told his father that he wasn't going to let Sam go hungry, John had just stared at him for a moment, then turned and walked away.


John never brought it up again, but he never looked at Dean the same way either, and each time he went hunting, he left a little less money behind, until the time came when he left nothing at all. After a while Dean had known that blowjobs in back alleys just weren't going to cut it; weren't going to keep Sam in the food, clothes and books he needed; so Dean gave up a little more. First times were supposed to be special, there should have been moonlight and roses; or at the very least, a bed and someone he actually cared about to share it with. Dean's first time had him bent over a pile of crates, in a darkened corner of a parking lot. With a stranger leaning heavily on his back, shoving his way into Dean's virgin ass; urging him on with bites and scratches and filth poured into his ears, "Such a tight ass....so fucking sweet.....just take it.....love it, don't you....want it.....such a good slut..."


Dean hadn't loved it then, and he didn't love it now, but he'd figured out how to pretend, how to make each man believe he wanted this; wanted them. He just shut down his mind, didn't hear the words, didn't see their faces, to him none of it was real. So long as he got what he needed to take care of his brother it didn't matter; so long as Sam never ever found out how low Dean had sunk for him.


It had all gone to hell two nights ago, when Dean hadn't been quite as careful as usual and Sam had followed him, had seen him acting like the whore he was. Two days of Sam acting pissy and refusing to talk, two days of accusing stares and awkward silence that had come to a head tonight when Sam had pushed him through the motel room door and shoved him to his knees.


Dean could feel himself breaking with each thrust of Sam's hips, the one good and pure thing in his life slipping away and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Sam knew what he was now, and he'd never look at Dean the same again. It was bad enough that he had to do this for the strangers he surrendered to in the dark; but if Sam wanted this every time they were alone, then Dean would have nowhere left to hide from himself.


Dean couldn't hide this time, couldn't lose himself in his mind the way he usually did. The knowledge that this was Sam's cock in his mouth, Sam's hands cradling his head, his baby brother fucking his mouth over and over again; was driving Dean insane. For the first time in too many years Dean actually felt something, felt desire, and he hated himself even more as he realised that he was getting turned on, that having his little brother's cock in his mouth was actually making him hard.


Sam's wouldn't stop talking and for the first time in a long time Dean actually listened. The familiar insults were there but they were paired with other words, things Dean had never heard before; "Beautiful cocksucker....such a pretty slut....so fucking hot.....mine.....my Dean;" and instead of the usual contempt, Sam's voice was full of love and a kind of bewildered wonder.


The voice went away, nothing but moans now as Sam rushed towards completion, his cock surging even deeper into his brother's throat. Dean had to jerk back as he felt himself gagging on the semen flooding his mouth. This was something new; Dean might be a whore, but he wasn't stupid, in the past it had always been the acrid tang of rubber on his tongue, not this salty, bitter liquid. He swallowed hard, once, twice, that was enough to finish Sam and after one final thrust he pulled his softening cock from Dean's mouth.


Dean let his arms drop from his brother's legs and kept his eyes on the floor as he felt Sam move away. He didn't look up, he couldn't, if he had to see the derision he knew was in Sam's eyes, he'd finally break completely. He knew how this went, once they were done their desire turned so quickly to contempt. He got money tossed on the floor, though he didn't expect that particular indignity from his brother, ugly words and sometimes violence as they sought to show him his place, show him that he was nothing to them.


So when Sam's arms reached down and hauled him to his feet he didn't try to stop him, didn't fight back when Sam shoved him against the wall so hard it forced all the air from his lungs. He just stood still and steeled himself for the first blow. Except it seemed that Sam hadn't read the script, didn't know what he was supposed to do; because instead of the punch he was expecting, Dean got strong arms wrapping themselves around his body. Instead of angry words, he got Sam's lips pressing gently against his own; and when he tried to speak, to ask what the hell was going on, he got Sam's tongue, darting into his mouth.


It felt like Sam was trying to crawl inside him, his tongue exploring every inch of Dean's mouth, his teeth nibbling at his brother's lips, biting and sucking as though Dean was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't take the second he needed to figure out why Sam was doing this, all he could do was let his head fall back against the wall and hang on for the ride.


He groaned his disappointment when Sam pulled away from his lips, only to moan for an entirely different reason when that sinful mouth nibbled it's way down his neck and bit down hard. Giving himself up entirely to lust Dean ground his body against his brother's, desperate to relieve the suddenly aching pressure in his cock.


His shirt was ripped open and he felt Sam's fingers on his chest, pinching and twisting his nipples before venturing lower. His jeans yielded to Sam's touch and then those too large hands were wrapped around his cock. Sam pulled and stroked and rubbed, his touch was anything but gentle; and to Dean's experienced eye it was pretty obvious that Sam had never touched another man's cock. But right now that didn't matter, because Sam's touch was causing Dean to come apart, was making him keen and beg and finally want all those things he thought he'd never have. And when Sam's lips finally found his again, Dean just surrendered, let go of everything and came harder than he ever had before.


When Dean opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Sam licking his hand clean and that caused his brain to short circuit yet again, he didn't know what to do now, didn't know what to expect from this strange new version of his brother, but he knew he didn't want to turn away from this thing between them. Taking a chance that Sam might want this too, Dean leaned forward just a little and pressed his lips to Sam's. This was nothing like the passion they'd just shared, Dean's kiss this time was tentative, almost chaste and when Sam didn't respond, he pulled away trying not to let the disappointment show in his face.


Then Sam's hand reached up and gently caressed his cheek, Dean leaned into the touch, too afraid to do more in case he frightened his brother away. He couldn't hide from the intensity of Sam's gaze and he hoped that whatever Sam was seeing in his own eyes was what Sam wanted to know. Apparently it was, because Dean felt himself being led towards the bed and when he went to speak he was silenced by a strangely tender kiss.


Clothes were shed in silence, then covers were pulled back and they both crept into the bed. Dean held himself stiffly right at the edge, not wanting to touch his brother, he didn't know how to do this, nobody he'd fucked had ever stuck around to actually sleep with him, not that he'd ever wanted them to, but this, for him, was virgin territory.


Sam didn't seem to share his hesitancy, and he found himself hauled to the centre of the bed, splayed out on his back with a Sam shaped blanket. Dean forced himself to relax, and let his arms creep up and surround the long length of Sam's body. That earned him another quick kiss as Sam wiggled and twisted and tried to find a position that left them both comfortable; finally settling down, with his body twisted round Dean's and his head cradled on Dean's chest.


As Sam's breathing slowed and he drifted away, Dean heard a muffled, "My Dean....mine;" before soft snores let him know that Sam had succumbed to sleep. Dean still didn't understand what had happened between them, but maybe he didn't have to, Sam was the smart one and as long as he knew what they were doing that was good enough for Dean. Tightening his hold on his brother, Dean followed Sam into sleep, and for the first time he could remember, he wasn't afraid to close his eyes and let go.


Fin

***