Warnings: Wincest (Sam/Dean), very rough, graphic m/m sex, extremely vague spoilers for S7
Disclaimer: Sadly, still not mine.
Summary/prompt: Pain reminds Sam of what's real, but it's better when Dean does it. Blindfold request for rough sex, knifeplay, breathplay, marks Sam can use to keep his hallucinations at bay.
A/N: I failed to include any knifeplay or breathplay, but I think I hit the rest of it pretty well.
They're barely in the room before Dean has him facefirst against the wall, one hand between his shoulders, hips pinning him in place.
"Saw you looking at him," Dean growls. He bites down hard on Sam's neck, just below his ear, and Sam shudders, low moan easing out as Dean worries at the skin til a bruise rises up hot and throbbing. "Looked right at him, just like he was real...What did I tell you, Sammy?"
Dean's weight eases just a little, just enough for Dean to grope Sam's jeans open and yank them down.
"Said...you said..." Sam breaks off, keening as Dean shoves a hand under Sam's shirt and finds his nipple, scraping and twisting the tender flesh roughly, almost painfully.
"Said I'd fuck you, didn't I? Fuck it right out of you, make it so you couldn't see anyone but me." Dean's voice breaks a little but Sam barely hears it, the noise in his head all but drowning out Dean's voice. Sam moans again, fingers flexing uselessly against the wall as he arches back against his brother. He can feel the hot line of Dean's cock rubbing rough against his bare skin, harsh denim dragging over his tender hole as Dean forces his cheeks apart.
"Promised," Sam gasps raggedly, pushing back hard, looking for more. "Promised you'd make him go away--"
"Gonna," Dean says. He pushes two fingers in Sam's mouth. "Get em good and wet, baby," he says, "'cause that's all you're getting." Sam sucks eagerly, sloppily, tongue running over and around Dean's fingers, mouth watering at the familiar, salty tang of Dean's skin. He can hear Dean better now, hear him muttering encouragement as he licks and bites at the back of Sam's neck.
Then Dean's pulling away, and Sam feels warm wetness around his hole for just a second before Dean's fingers split him open, both of them at once, quick sharp burn that tears through him like fire. Dean fists his other hand in Sam's hair, pulling his head back almost painfully so that he can bite down on the delicate shell of Sam's ear.
"Easy, easy," Dean murmurs, low and gritty, "I got you..." as Sam twists and cries out, wanting more. "Doing good, Sammy," Dean says, and his voice is softer, almost tender as he twists and stretches Sam open.
But this isn't about soft, or tender. Dean pulls his fingers out of Sam's body roughly, forcing another pained grunt out of his brother and once upon a time, before, he would have been ashamed of the white hot flare that sends through him. Now, though...now he's just giving Sam what he needs.
Dean lets go of Sam's hair to fumble open his jeans and shove his boxers down just enough to free his cock, fisting himself once, twice, just enough to slick a little precome over the head. He's so hard it hurts when he drives in, one hard thrust to the bottom, and Jesus the sound Sam makes nearly does him in. Dean breathes deep, trying not to come like a teenager as Sam grips him tight, every muscle clenched around him like a vise.
“Come on, Dean, come on,” Sam begs, voice raw and nearly panicked as he rolls his hips, urging Dean to move.
“Yeah, don't worry, Sammy,” Dean grunts as he pulls out til just the head of his dick is still wedged inside his brother. “Gonna fuck you hard--” he slams back in, twisting his hips to hit that spot inside Sam dead on--”make you feel me for <i>days.</i>”
Sam's entire body convulses against the wall as Dean sets a punishing pace. They're both sweating, gasping, and Dean's already close, can already feel his balls tightening, electric heat singing through him as he tangles his hand in Sam's hair again, wrenches Sam's head back painfully.
“Want you to come for me, Sam,” he orders roughly, “wanna feel you just like this--” He bites down on the bruise he made on Sam's neck, teeth sinking into the muscle, and Sam screams like he's dying as he obeys, body wracked with pleasure. Dean slams into him again and again like he wants to come out the other side, climax rushing through him brutally until it's all he can do to keep them both from falling-- and then it's over.
Dean staggers, knees weak as he unclenches his fingers from Sam's hair and smooths it back with a gentle kiss. He pulls out carefully, wincing when he sees that the come leaking from Sam's ass is tinged faintly pink, and helps Sam over to the bed.
“Dean?” Sam's voice is raw and exhausted, but the panic, the desperation, is gone. Dean rubs at the teartracks on his cheek and Sam turns his face into Dean's hand. “Just us now,” he slurs, eyes falling shut, and Dean sighs.