Let Me Burrow into the Cracks of Your Soul (1/1)

Title: Let Me Burrow into the Cracks of Your Soul (1/1)
Author: deamsgirl 
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Genre: Angst, PWP
Warning(s): Wincest, Mature sexual content
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. There was no profit made from this story.
Summary: Sam wants to take away Dean's pain and make him whole again. Spoilers for: 4.09 "I Know What You Did Last Summer" and 4.10 "Heaven and Hell"


Sam slipped his hand down the front of Dean’s boxers, gripping the leaking cock he found there and kissing down the older man’s moans. Dean’s mouth tasted like cheap whiskey and pain, and Sam wished so hard that he could pour a bit of that agony into himself; that maybe if he kissed or sucked or fucked hard enough, he could flush it out of his broken brother.

The tear tracks were still visible on Dean’s cheeks and Sam lapped at them with his tongue until his saliva was the only thing left. It glistened off the moonlight flooding the room, two bright trails against Dean’s skin. Sam thought he looked gorgeous like that: silvery glow all over him, illuminating the sharp planes of his face. The spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks looked like a patch of stars, bright and beautiful against the pale expanse of flesh.

Dean was bucking his hips and keening low in his throat, begging Sam to hurry. He still had the faint smell of Anna’s perfume clinging to him, and Sam had no illusions as to what they were doing in the back of the Impala. He wanted to feel betrayed and jealous, but the thought of the heartbroken look in Dean’s eyes as he recounted his time with Ruby kept him from saying anything about it.

Sam sank himself onto Dean’s cock with a hiss. There was no preparation—he didn’t even remove Dean’s boxers—but he didn’t care. The burn of stretching flesh felt delicious, and Sam was drowning in the heavenly sounds escaping Dean’s mouth.

“Oh, fuck. Sammy…” he panted, undulating his hips and curling his toes. His heels pressed into the mattress as he thrust up, urging Sam to move.

Sam obliged, lifting himself off Dean’s cock and slamming back down. They set a brutal rhythm, so determined to feel something besides the slow heartache that had been steadily consuming them.

Sam was moaning out, “oh god” and “fuck, Dean” and “so good” but Dean was too far gone to hear it. Heat was building in Dean’s belly and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Come on, Sam,” he breathed. “Come for me, baby.”

Sam let out a yell as he came all over their stomachs, his cock untouched. His walls were contracting around Dean’s dick with each spasm of pleasure and the older man gave a soft moan as he came in quick spurts inside of Sam.

Dean felt numb and peaceful for the first time since he was pulled from hell. Sam collapsed on top of him and proceeded to press tender kisses across Dean’s chest, whispering soft endearments against the flesh.

Neither spoke of the painful confession that had taken place only hours before. Neither mentioned the guilt that would forever weigh down Dean’s heart. Neither said anything at all, the comfortable silence and feather-light caresses expressing more than words ever could. That they loved each other. That they would be all right. That they were together.

And that was really all they needed.