Sam knew he had to be pretty desperate to jerk off when he was willingly standing in a cold shower. He’d been working his clit for a solid five minutes, edging close but never quite crossing the threshold and milking an orgasm out of himself. It was infuriating, really, his wrist getting tired before he was able to nail down the right pace and rhythm to make himself come.
He’d set himself up in the corner of the shower, hoping to secure himself while the muscles in his thighs tightened with every quick, rough stroke of fingertips against clitoris. Sam tipped his chin up to the ceiling and squeezed his eyes shut, but he only ever grazed the edge of an orgasm. Again, infuriating. How was Dean able to make him come without really even trying? What had he learned while he was off fucking every girl who gave him the time of day that made him so effortlessly good at what he did? Sam could barely make his own toes curl, and yet Dean could get him off three times in an hour and still have it in him to try for a fourth.
He held his fingers flat and started rubbing vigorously across his clit, giving up on the circular motions that were prematurely cramping his wrist. Last ditch effort, but maybe it would work this time. He bit his lip to hold back a moan, all too certain it’d be heard over the water pattering on the shower’s floor. It wasn’t like Sam really needed to hide what he was doing, but he did like having alone time every now and again.
It also just so happened that he completely sucked at masturbating when he wasn’t sitting across a shitty motel bed from Dean. Sam tried picturing porn videos he’d watched on his battered laptop to give him inspiration: girls riding cocks the size of their forearms and crying out when they had fit at least seven girthy inches inside their waxed pussies, enthusiastically taking facials and staring half-lidded into the camera while come dripped off of their fake eyelashes, guys taking two cocks in their asses and begging for a third until they were left dripping and ruined. He tried remembering what about those videos had made him embarrassingly wet on those lonely dorm room nights before he’d met Jess, but bringing those old memories back to life only dulled all sensation in his clit. Sam wasn’t even right back where he’d started — he was flaccid all over again.
He leaned back against the wall, the muscles in his thighs aching at the tension they’d held for a solid five minutes before he gave up. His lips were red and swollen from overuse and he hadn’t even made himself come. Sam reached out and stuck his arm underneath the ice-cold stream, shivering when the water pelted his skin.
“Shit,” he whispered, watching his skin turn to gooseflesh in the blink of an eye. Whatever residual arousal might have been holding on for dear life sloughed off and slipped down the drain. Sam would just have to crawl into bed with Dean and get his rocks off however his brother saw fit.
He scrubbed at his chest, wiry with roped muscle, and wondered when he’d stopped recognizing his body. A few months on the road? A year?
Sam hadn’t made himself come and now the consequences were hitting him like a train.
He heard something behind the thin plastic curtain and his body tensed — he could never be sure anymore if it was just Dean or if it would be something else. His anxieties were not confirmed when the shower curtain was pulled back and Dean, unmistakably Dean, was staring back at him, smiling.
“Did you crack your skull open yet, Sammy?” His eyes raked down Sam’s body and his jovial energy quickly turned darker. Dean moved closer to Sam, his smile canting to one side. “You weren’t getting up to something without me, were you?”
He reached out and trailed two of his fingers up Sam’s thigh, starting to move inward as he inched closer to his crotch. The hair on the back of his neck stood twofold as Dean’s fingertips grazed his clit. Sam moved back, shaking his head but struggling to hide his mounting excitement.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, holding back a moan as Dean rubbed his clit with intention.
Sam felt the absence of Dean’s hand as he quickly tore out of his overworn clothes, wrinkled and reeking of Dean. He stepped in with more care than Sam expected him to, grasp tightly onto Sam’s shoulder to keep himself from slipping. Dean glanced up at Sam, stroking his thumb across the sloped length of his shoulder. Suddenly, the ice cold water was the furthest thing from his mind.
“You can’t get yourself off without me, can you, baby?” His other hand found Sam’s vulva again and started teasing him, making his thighs go taut. How was his touch so different?
He pulled the short length of Sam’s clit between his fingers and jerked him with an amount of tenderness that was driving him insane. Dean’s fingertips slid in between his lips and gathered slick while he cupped his vulva and jerked him off with that same maddening slowness that was so unlike Dean he could only assume that a shapeshifter had slipped into the shower with him. As far as he could tell, however, this was all Dean.
Sam breathed hard and ground against Dean’s fingers, hoping to get them to breach his hole and slide inside. There was no doubt he’d slip and crack his head open if Dean fingered and jerked him off all in one go, and he had no idea if he’d be able to come back from that. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t sure that Dean would try and bring him back, though — his brother was persistent.
Dean’s hand scaled up the side of Sam’s neck until he had a hold of his jaw, guiding him to lean down and kiss him. He wondered if Dean got his idea of kissing from Brokeback Mountain , he was prone to using enough force to bust their lips. Sam lazily mimicked Dean’s hands, placing one on the back of his head and slipping the other between his legs, trying to coerce his fingers to follow his lead. Dean’s cock was swelling and started grazing the insides of Sam’s thighs like it was searching for one of his holes.
Sam breathed sharply when Dean bit his bottom lip to coax his mouth open, his hips rolling forward into Dean’s hand. His fingertips curled up against Sam’s entrance, achingly close to probing into his vagina. He wished that Dean would just get it over with and fuck him with his fingers.
“So impatient, Sammy,” Dean said against his lips. He peppered a few kisses down his throat and moved to bite the space between his neck and shoulder.
“Fine, I got started without you. I’m getting so close, Dean,” he begged, his clit throbbing between Dean’s fingers.
“It’s funny you think I’m just going to let you off the hook after a handjob.”
He held his hand in place, keeping Sam precariously on the edge with seemingly no remorse. If the warm head of his cock prodding at Sam’s thigh meant anything, Dean was enjoying leaving him to suffer. Curiosity got the better of him and Sam made an attempt at testing him: he rocked his hips into Dean’s hand, which only made him break his hand away from Sam’s vulva. Test failed.
While Dean was famously persistent, Sam wasn’t far behind. With the space Dean granted him, Sam slid his fingers inside himself and rolled his thumb across his clit. He struggled to recreate the rhythm Dean had started, but he didn’t need to. Sam’s moaning was disproportionate to the pleasure he was giving himself, and he was sure Dean could pick up on that, but that didn’t seem to change how he felt about the show Sam was putting on. He slid one leg to the side and gave himself more room to shove a third finger inside himself, tipping his head back and bucking his hips hard.
Sam winced at the way his fingertips were driven into his walls, but his pain was short lived. Dean forced Sam up against the shower wall, his cheek cushioning the blow. He slid his fingers between Sam’s lips to wet them and slicked his ass milking an actual moan out of him. He could hear Dean lubing his cock with his slick, low breaths puffing onto his back.
As Dean slid his cock into Sam’s ass, he could only picture how ridiculous they must have looked from an outsider’s perspective — Dean grabbing the handle on the shower’s wall to aid him in standing up on his toes to reach Sam’s hole, Sam smashed in the corner and moaning like the girls in those videos that didn’t titillate him anymore. Sam had nothing to grip onto, feebly trying to dig his nails into the fiberglass walls of the tub. Dean let go of his cock once it was nestled deep into Sam’s ass, snaking it around his waist and holding him in place as he drilled in and out of him.
His clit throbbed with each thrust and he grabbed wildly until he had the shower handle in a white-knuckle grip. Sam still couldn’t get past the fact that Dean didn’t even have to do anything special to get him off, and it almost made him feel like he was ruined for life. Not like he could complain that he’d need Dean to get off for the rest of his days, but having the option to do it himself would be nice.
Sam felt Dean’s cock twitching inside him, his head rubbing deliciously against the clenching walls of his hole. Each moan bounced off the walls of the shower and had to have been reverberating into the next room over and that fact only inspired him to moan louder. His whole body rocked with each hard thrust.
“I’m gonna come, Dean, I’m gonna come,” he panted against the wall, his thighs starting to shake and his body starting to feel completely electrified. Each nerve buzzed the tighter his orbit became, hurtling closer and closer to orgasm with each graze of his cockhead.
“I wanna feel it.” Dean slid his hand down Sam’s stomach until he was slotted back into him again, holding his hand in place while he drove in and out of his ass.
Sam squeezed his eyes shut and held back a whine as he came on Dean’s fingers, his body clenching tight onto every appendage stuffed inside of him. He slumped against the wall of the shower but maintained his tight grip on the shower handle — he wasn’t going to slip now if he could help it.
He was in a daze afterward, not quite awake and not quite unconscious as he breathed through the aftershocks. Every brush of friction between his legs sent another jolt through him and he wasn’t sure if he was going to recover. If this was his life now, he was feeling iffy about it. At some point he felt Dean come inside him, the hot wave of his brother’s spend warming him from the inside out like he’d just been made into a real boy.
Sam was hovering somewhere between life and death when Dean’s voice managed to cut through the haze.
“Here, Sammy, sit down,” Dean instructed him as he started coming to, helping him sit down on the floor of the tub.
Come dribbled out of Sam and mingled with the cold water, and he felt a bit ashamed sitting down in it. That shame dissipated quickly as Dean moved to sit behind him, the cramped tub barely accommodating his body but somehow giving enough allowance for Dean to slide his legs on either side of Sam’s. He was starting to shiver and Sam reached around to rub his side.
“Come on, it’s okay, you’re gonna freeze.” Sam grabbed the edge of the tub, starting to pull himself up.
Dean stopped him by dumping half of the cheap shampoo bottle onto his head, looking proud of himself when Sam turned to glare at him. “It’ll only take a sec, promise.”
Sam resigned himself to Dean’s treatment, leaning back when he put his hands on his head and started massaging the shampoo into his scalp. It’d been years since Dean helped Sam wash his hair, something about it felt foreign but also just as familiar as if they’d done it yesterday. Sam allowed himself to relax and it almost felt like the water was finally turning lukewarm. His eyes started sliding shut as Dean poured cupped handfuls of water onto his head to rinse out the nonexistent shampoo lather.
“You know I can wash my hair myself, right?” Sam asked as Dean tipped his head forward to douse the hair sticking to the back of his neck.
“Yeah, but I like to do it sometimes.”
Sam felt his muscles slacken the longer Dean washed his hair, and before he knew it he’d fallen asleep on Dean’s shoulder. He’d wake up a few hours later in the queen bed nearest to the bathroom, redressed and mostly dry with Dean by his side, back turned to Sam. It was an awkward movement, but he wound up spooning Dean after a little wiggling across the bed and fell back asleep with his face nestled into the back of Dean’s head.