Title: SIN (Thicker, chapter 9)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
Feedback to: firstname.lastname@example.org
Archive: by author permission only
Category: Story, Wincest, Sam POV
Spoilers: Not really, but takes place during and after "Shadow"
Rating: M for adults only due to language and m/m sexual activity
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me. Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke, and is the property of Kripke Enterprises Scrap Metal and Entertainment (Eric Kripke and Robert Singer, executive producers), Wonderland Sound and Vision, Warner Brothers, and the CW Network. This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The rest of my Supernatural stories, also known as the "Thicker" series, appear elsewhere on this archive.
DEDICATION: For Tiff, my confidante.
COPYRIGHT: (C) Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, January 17, 2007, email@example.com Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.
Romeo: O! then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Juliet: Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
Romeo: Then move not, while my prayers' effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg'd. [Kissing her.]
Juliet: Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Romeo: Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd!
Give me my sin again.
-- "Romeo and Juliet", Act I, Scene V, William Shakespeare
Dad can never know about this. He's got enough issues with me leaving the family business to go to college. Finding out that I involved Dean in this kind of family business might just kill him.
Of course I'd seen my brother naked--it happens when you share a bathroom as frequently as we have. I've touched him in fairly private places, too, whether to dress a wound or help him bathe when he was too injured to do it himself.
But we've crossed a line into a whole new kind of intimacy here. Dean kisses me with his mouth open, and I kiss him back. We make each other hard, and we make each other come. We have always looked to one another for comfort and strength, but now that strength has taken the form of physical desire: the comfort, sexual release... I am both shamed and redeemed by my brother's touch.
We had gone back to Chicago to check out a mysterious death, entirely unaware that we would meet back up with Dad while we were there. Seeing Meg again was also unexpected, but not the only familiar face that crossed my mind that night. As we checked into our hotel, I entertained the idea of looking up that psychology professor I'd met on our last visit, if only to brag that I'd gotten somewhere with the person I'd hinted to him that I wanted. It was then that I realized just how private my news would be. No one else who had ever met us could know that Dean and I had reached out for each other in such a forbidden way, most definitely not Dad.
We took a day to sleep after we'd done our research on what I'd learned from my stakeout duty on Meg. Our room still had two beds, as we tried to maintain at least the illusion of propriety between us. No matter what we did when we were alone together, by unspoken agreement we'd settled on the pretense of normality as much as possible.
In fact, we were talking about girls after we'd drawn the blinds and shut off the lights. "So, would you have hit that?"
"Hit what?" I asked stupidly.
"That Meg chick, provided she didn't have demons on speed-dial? She's kinda cute."
"I dunno. Maybe."
All I could see of him from my bed were his eyes glittering in the shuttered morning light. "Or don'tcha like girls anymore?"
"I like 'em fine. I'm just picky about the ones I trust." For a fleeting moment, I considered telling him about the guy who'd picked me up the last time we were in town, then dropped it in favor of demonstrating what kind of trust was important to me.
I got up and was next to his bed in two steps. "I'm like that about everybody, really. You know who I trust the most, don'tcha?" My hands lingered at the hem of my t-shirt teasingly.
"No. Who?" Dean asked, though I could see the corner of his mouth quirk up.
"You." In one motion, I crossed my arms and peeled my shirt off over my head, then shoved down my underwear and crawled in beside my brother, who had stripped off his own shirt and thrown back the covers to accept me.
"Good," he murmured, taking me into his arms protectively.
I reached for his face and kissed him deeply. His lips parted under mine, and we spent some time tasting each other's tongues and moaning into each other's mouths.
Dean's grip grew light on my ribs until he let go with one hand to lower his boxers.
"What do you need?" I asked softly.
"Blow me, college boy," he demanded, a chuckle in his voice.
We'd only been experimenting with this sex thing for a few weeks, and I'd never sucked a cock in my life. However, the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint my brother, so I squared my shoulders and crept down his body to oblige.
Holding his erection in my hand was getting easier every time I did it. I gripped it gently and licked my lips before slipping them around its dusky tip. He growled appreciatively, letting me know that I had the right idea. The flared cap of his penis fit neatly inside my mouth, and I just held it there and breathed once or twice. Bravely, I took in more of his length and swirled my tongue around it. His skin was so soft there, while the shaft was so stiff and ridged with fine veins.
I wanted to give him a good time, but I didn't know if I could swallow him deep or let him come down my throat without gagging. Instead, I held onto the root of him, concentrating on the business end, bobbing up and down, and pressing my tongue against the most-sensitive spots.
Dean had laced his fingers in my hair, but let go and prodded my shoulder to get my attention. "Don't hurt yourself, bro," he admonished me, probably to alert me that he was close to coming.
Carefully, I pulled off of his cock, pressing a kiss to it before I moved back up to kiss his mouth. I had gotten so hard sucking him that I instinctively thrust against his warm belly once I felt it touch me. We rubbed our bodies together frantically, dicks tucked firmly in the creases of hips, too busy moaning in pleasure to take time to kiss.
He finally let out a long groan and bucked up into me, spattering his load over both of us. Two more strokes, and I spilled onto his stomach with a shudder as well.
We lay there exhausted and sticky in each other's arms for several minutes. Eventually, Dean started complaining about wanting to clean up, so I got off of him and let him take the first turn in the bathroom. No affectionate words were exchanged, but we stared hard into each other's eyes from our respective beds before sleep overtook us.
The next day, my good mood prompted by our interactions did not last when the topic of the possible end of our quest came up during the preparation for our work, and it was further destroyed when we were caught in Meg's ambush. Later, when Dad arrived at the site of our recent tryst, I couldn't let myself think about anything Dean and I had done there, instead focusing on reconnecting and planning our renewed attack.
After it was all over, beaten in body and soul, we said our goodbyes and split up again. Our choice of motel was based on how unlikely the night manager was to ask questions about our appearance. We checked in, tended our wounds and cleaned up, then fell into bed with a minimum of words.
Dad's sudden appearance and forgiveness broke me more than I might have believed possible, and those combined with the defeats of the evening and the pain of my injuries made me want to curl up in a little knot and shut out the world. Before I could give in to the tears that were closer than I was willing to admit, Dean's hand stroked across my forehead and down my cheek, coming to rest sympathetically on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to find him on the edge of my bed, a seat I hadn't even noticed him take.
"You need me? Don't say no," he asked and answered in a single breath. He looked like the loser in a mismatched street fight, but he was beautiful and welcoming and home. I scooted back to let him lie down with me and hold me close, easing my pounding heart and calming the thoughts swirling in my head. "He trusts us," he reassured me gently, obliquely referring to Dad. "We'll be okay, as long as we look out for each other."
I couldn't say anything, but just nodded and snuggled tighter into his arms.
Before I quite knew what was happening, Dean kissed my forehead, then moved so he could kiss my mouth.
Doubt and guilt overwhelmed me and made me reject his offer of incestuous contact. Immediately, I stiff-armed him and tried to escape his grasp. "This is wrong, Dean!" I protested. "Dad--"
He cut me off and finished my sentence for me. "Dad doesn't know. He doesn't have to know. You know you need this, and it's none of his business. It's just between you and me."
The devotion in his eyes dispelled my momentary panic, and I couldn't argue with his logic. I searched his face for a shred of hesitation and found none.
"Besides," he added with a crooked grin, "if you went out to pick up girls looking like that, you'd even strike out with the hookers." I snorted a laugh at the idea, then pressed my smiling mouth firmly against his.
Humor soon became secondary to arousal and need. We held each other and kissed, but we both knew that, tonight, it wasn't going to be enough.
"Sammy," Dean breathed in my ear, "I need you to fuck me."
The question of when this became something he'd want from me fell by the wayside while I steeled myself to get used to the idea of my fantasy becoming real. "Okay," I answered, not letting my fears keep me from what I wanted. "Do you have anything...?"
He smiled fondly and reached for some items he'd left on the nightstand when I wasn't looking. I regarded the things he set in my outstretched hand: a bottle of lubricant and a condom. They were familiar, and yet so foreign for us. Maybe Dean had bought me my first little box of rubbers and told me to play safe when I hit fourteen. It was nothing like him handing me this one and asking me to use it on him.
We got naked in silence, the huge question if this were also his first time filling my brain and making me just a little jealous of a guy I couldn't even prove existed. Dean lay back and spread for me, watching me but letting me run the show. "You're sure?" I asked one last time, trying to keep my hands from shaking.
"Yeah," he replied, a little breathily, which just got me harder. My fingers liberally greased, I divided my attention between lubing his hole and making eye contact. Gradually, I opened him and readied his passage for my onslaught. I listened for his every groan and sharp inhalation, taking encouragement from the eager way he bit at his lower lip.
Adding a little lube to my rubber-coated cock, I knelt above him and lined up for my approach. A slight adjustment, and I was there. I pushed inside Dean's tight ring of muscle as quickly as I dared, but still so slowly that I thought I might scream from anticipation.
His arms draped over my shoulders as I penetrated his opening completely. Once I was all the way in, I half-expected the lightning and thunder of God's wrath and eternal damnation, but all was peaceful. I looked down into my brother's eyes and saw nothing but acceptance and love, so smiled back at him and backed out just a little.
Once more I sunk into his body, then found a rhythm that felt good and fucked him evenly. Dean propped his heels on my ass and began to jack himself in an echoing pattern. Before long, I couldn't bear to watch his blissed-out face anymore and just shut my eyes to savor the physical sensations of his tightness gripping my erection.
"God--fuck, yeah," he exclaimed quietly as he pushed back around me firmly and held still for a few seconds. The spasms I could feel along my length must have been his orgasm, and mine followed in mere moments. I let out a whine as I drove into him one last time and shot hard, filling him with what seemed like years' worth of ejaculate. At once I felt emptied yet renewed, and I bent my head onto his shoulder, spent and relieved.
He held me steady and shushed me as I rubbed my head against his, catching my breath and ignoring the lump I felt in my throat. When I was finally able to lift my head, I sought out his eyes, which gazed up at me in a happy stupor.
My brother and I might be going to hell for our actions, but our paradise together might just be worth it.
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