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Part 3
PART 3 (NSFW ART HERE!)
"You know what I wanna do someday?"
He slithered up Dean's jerking, squirming body like a snake, gripped Dean by the short, sweat soaked spikes and pulled his brother's head back, exposing the long line of flushed neck. He whispered into Dean's ear: "Wanna push my dick into your ass, while your bladder keeps on getting fuller and fuller," his brother's whole body became rigid at those words, stiff like a board and he nibbled on Dean's earlobe before finishing: "right through that tube. There would be nowhere for you to go ... nowhere for you to hide."
He felt more than he could see, Dean try to curl in on himself – trying to escape, probably run off the bed, tugging the catheter right out – but he was faster and moved down to grip Dean's thighs: "No, Dean. Keep 'em spread."
"Sss-sam..."
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from moaning; watching Dean be like this, totally, completely exposed helplessly squirming on the mattress, little spasms of tightly-coiled muscles … it made his dick so hard, dripping precome and his balls ready to burst.
"Yeah…" he moved back up, licking a stripe of salty, hot skin feeling Dean's muscles ripple under his tongue, until he could grab hold of his brother's hair again to pull his head backwards to whisper into the wide open eyes: "… I'd fill you up so good, hmmm ... full on both ends. Fuckin' bet my cockhead would punch right into your bladder if I'd angle it right, push deep enough."
"Sa-saammm."
He let go of Dean's hair, let his brother adjust his head back as it was, smirking at the panic written all over Dean's face.
"Yeah, I would," he petted Dean's cheek, his fingertips slipping in all the moisture there, "but not today. This ain't 'bout that."
He heard Dean release a tense breath. Wouldn't do him any good, what Sam wanted Sam got, no stopping him and one day, one day he'd fuck Dean when his brother's bladder would be full to bursting and he'd fill him up even more. Who knows, maybe Dean would spurt piss out of his dick, whenever he'd push his cock up deep into Dean's ass. It was certainly something to consider. Note to self: do some research and then test it all out on Dean.
He slid back down Dean's body, stopping to lick the probably already very sore nipples. They were hard and red and so damn tasty, he couldn't resist touching them, pulling them into his mouth and sucking on them. Loved how Dean cried out every time he touched the tip of his tongue to the very tip of the hard nub, only a string of spit connecting them.
Loved watching his brother fall apart like this. Unguarded. Free to move and free to make sounds all the while he could taste his brother's skin, sweat, fear, pain, love and darkness. His brother was beautiful when his body moved in pleasure, when his body moved in the futile hope of escaping pain.
Beautiful when Dean fell apart with their eyes meeting; all the green gone, just blackness to fall into.
The room was getting warmer and warmer and the sheen of sweat and spit on Dean's freckled chest was making his mouth salivate. The way the muscles moved underneath his brother's pale skin, the way he could almost see Dean's heart move … he needed to taste that, feel it under his tongue, feel it against his lips. Feel it against his fingertips. He had his brother on display like this, all for him, just for him.
Always just for him.
He moved further down to sit between Dean's spread legs, hands back to roaming along the bulge in Dean's belly and a finger pressing deep into the bellybutton enjoying the hissing sounds coming out of Dean's well-bitten lips. His brother was shaking his head, eyes shut tightly closed, fingers digging into the pillows.
His own dick was hard - while Dean's was limp - leaking and straining to comealready. Just having Dean like this, open, vulnerable, defenses down and walls crumbling, had his balls already drawing up.
The sight of his brother's body moving; chest heaving, mouth parted open, eyes closed, Adam's apple working overtime, stomach raising up and down in synch with his chest, dick with the yellow tube twitching in a strange attempt to get hard, balls shiny with all the spit and sweat that had ran down his brother's body … all of Dean was his for the taking, all that movement was like a dance, a seduction, all that freckled, spit and sweat slick skin, all those muscles moving in different ways depending on how and where Sam touched.
It was … he had never seen something so amazing. It was impossible not to touch, impossible not to caress every inch of the body in front of him. Impossible not to try and push his fingers in different spots, or just skim over other parts … it was mesmerizing in just how many ways a human body – Dean's body – could move when lost in sensations of touch.
But by the sounds Dean was making, Sam really couldn't tell if it was pain or pleasure his brother was feeling, although it was probably a frustrating mix of both.
He drooled watching Dean's belly starting to slowly rise up as liquid filled his brother's bladder, small at first and then up and up it went, from a lemon size to a grapefruit to nearly a watermelon. He knew how much Dean could take before there would be any damage made to either his bladder or kidneys and he knew Dean trusted him with this. He'd never ever hurt his brother. He calculated this precisely, researched it – internet, all kinds of medical books - until his eyes bled. And he'd never let this go too far. His brother's bladder wasn't even full to its maximum capacity; it was him touching, him watching Dean, him licking every warm part of his brother's skin that made Dean feel as if he'd burst. He knew that. Knew Dean so well, too well.
And he even knew that Dean didn't like it, when he saw what he'd been holding. It had confused his brother at first, he'd seen that in Dean's eyes, and he saw how Dean wanted to fight it, but didn't.
Good boy.
Saw how Dean's eyes nearly popped out of his head and how his breathing picked up speed. But Dean didn't fight it.
Good boy.
It just had to happen, punishment had to be dealt with and his brother knew that; after all this time.
"Good boy, so good…"
He couldn't resist in telling Dean how good he was being; he was following the rules, he was becoming undone right before his little brother's eyes: "Doin' so good …" and he was trusting Sam with … everything.
Life.
Soul.
Body.
Pleasure.
Pain.
Love.
There was so much trust between them both, they could've lit up the stars and made them shine brighter than a supernova.
And it was trust that was shining in Dean's eyes; so much trust in that blackness that made his dick throb alongside his heart.
Trust and love and life.
Sam knew that all this would do damage to his brother's carefully structured walls, but this … Dean being like this, falling apart so beautifully, all naked and spread open, all shining with spit and sweat on all that flushed - scarred, freckled, smooth - skin … it was more than he imagined. So much more.
Sometimes one doesn't need a lot to be taught a lesson. Sometimes just being on display with no barriers between one's eyes and one's skin could make someone fall apart easier than a brittle leaf.
While Dean writhing on the bed was the most delicious sight Sam had ever seen – besides when Dean comes harder than hard – Sam had to hold him down by the hips at some points, his palms sliding in all the slick. He didn't want Dean to hurt himself in some way, injure his back or tug on the catheter too hard. He suspected that Dean moved whenever his bladder sent signals to his brain fullpissnow. Those were the moments when Dean moved too fast and too high, moaned, whimpered and hissed all at the same time. It was instinctive that Dean rose his whole lower body up, trying to escape the pressure, the burn and the need, Sam understood that, but he also knew that all that moving around was actually doing more bad than good, putting even more pressure on his brother's aching bladder.
And damn if that wasn't a sight that made Sam's dick even harder than it already was. Dean being like this ... soaked in sweat, filling up slowly on the inside, the pressure and the need to go take a leak but not being able to, the noises Dean was making, the utter humiliation and embarrassment that made Dean's cheeks rosy ... made the slit on Sam's dick spurt out precome almost in a steady stream.
As if he was pissing instead of Dean.
He'd slipped out of his jeans and underwear a while ago, sure that Dean hadn't even noticed. But he couldn't take it anymore; couldn't take having his hard dick confined in some stupid fabric, when there was so much freedom around him. There's a difference between torture and delaying pleasure. And really, this was neither.
Every move of Dean's body, every twitch of his muscles, every time he swallowed and made his Adam's apple bob, every tightening of Dean's belly under his palm got Sam nearly to the point of coming, but he gripped the base of his cock with shaky fingers, breathed in and out a few times to calm down and waited it out, his eyes half on Dean's and half on Dean's cock laying on his brother's slowly distending belly.
Dean was so very lost in what was happening to him, his eyes boring into Sam's; heat, trust, love, wild and pure want.
It was that, that made them click gazes and hold them through the dim light.
There were no words needed to say what they both felt. What was moving underneath their skin, what was running in their veins, what was breaking down walls.
"Sam…"
Only one word was needed and Dean knew it more than he knew anything else.
And then it happened.
The begging.
"Oooo-ghhhh f-f-f-fffuck Sam c-ccccan't ... fffff-uck c-can't," breaking the rules, breaking all the rules and when that first tear appeared in the corner of Dean's eyes, that one, crystal clear tear that couldn't be mistaken for sweat, that's when Sam lost it. The fuckin' pain of finally coming, bowed his back and made his head snap back as he came all over the bed and Dean's right thigh. He tried, in a daze of fuckyeah not to come on Dean's dick, because he didn't want to risk any infection, he was very careful not to touch the catheter or his brother's dick. He would kill himself first than cause Dean any kind of complications from this.
But fuck it was so hard to aim his come to the bed, his stomach and his brother's thigh, especially when all he could see was spots dancing behind his closed eyes and hear the rush of blood in his ears.
His eyes snapped opened and through his swimming vision he locked his gaze with Dean's: "Dd-dean…" he whispered and surrendered his love to his big brother, falling sideways, gripping the pillow with his hand to stop himself from leaning all his weight on Dean's thigh. He just had to rest his forehead against the side of Dean's knee, panting and blinking away the sweat that had spilled down his forehead. He licked at Dean's knee and kissed it, dragging his lower lip up until it snapped off of Dean's skin.
"Sammy…"
He was still catching his breath after coming so damn hard, the hot come running down his stomach, drying on the bed, when Dean's previous words finally managed to penetrated the fog of fuckinghellthatwasgood.
Sweaty hair fell into his eyes in chunks, his whole body vibrating and he knew his brother's body was humming for some kinda release too. He tore his eyes from Dean's and slowly looked down at his own chest; there was cooling come running down his abs, dripping down to the sheets and when he looked at Dean's thigh, he saw two streaks of white there too.
He swallowed and tried to find his voice, but all he could manage was a nod and a whisper: "Yeah you can Dean, you're doin' so good."
"Ppp-lease."
He wanted to stay in the feeling of coming and being sated and relaxed, but Dean was there, pleading, begging, crying, writhing, moving his distended belly as if offering it to the heavens would make it all stop.
It wouldn't.
Because it was all in Sam's hands, when he'd stop the flow, when he'd suck the water out of the balloon in Dean's bladder, when he'd pull out the rubber tubing ... if he would even do that at all.
That would have to be Dean's choice. The choice would be a double edged sword, but Sam knew Dean was good at swallowing those down.
"Ssssammy, uhhhhh, ah, fff-fuck, shhhhh-it, ahhh, hurtsss."
Dean's hands were fisting the pillow behind his head, stretching his body even more that way, putting even more pressure on his full bladder and Sam smiled. Dean would never learn, but then again, Sam wouldn't make it easy for Dean to learn either.
"You can and you will, you're doing so good, brother. So fuckin' good," he whispered and ran his come covered palms up and down the watermelon sized bulge in Dean's stomach, just imagining how much Dean's bladder must be screaming, how heavy it must be inside of him, Dean's muscles telling his brain to damnpissalready whatthefuckareyoudoing! Just how much pressure there must be in there, how achy it must feel, pins and blunt needles. He could only imagine; while he went through his fair share of long drives, Dean or his Dad had always stopped when he needed a bathroom break. And later he just learned to go before going anywhere – well, until earlier today. But watching Dean be like this; so desperate, in such agony to be released from this torture … it made Sam itch to know how it felt. But just watching was making his spent dick twitch and get half hard again.
Fucking hell.
He rubbed his come into Dean's skin, being careful not to touch Dean's cock and the tube running out of the slit. He wanted to mark his brother like this, mix his spit with his come, mix Dean's sweat with everything that was Sam and leave it all on Dean to dry up or be swallowed up by the pores.
Dean was his and he was Dean's. It was what Heaven had said – soulmates.
He rubbed the cooling come all over the inside of Dean's thigh, loving the feel of the hair there prickle his palm, loving how his brother's muscles twitched under his palm, loving how the come made the sensitive skin shine in the pale light. He had to taste … he leaned down and kissed where his hands had just been, licked a stripe of skin and groaned when Dean tried to close his legs with a whimper. He couldn't have that, so he cupped Dean's knees and pushed his legs back down on the pillows: "C'mon Dean …"
He kissed his brother's bladder that was bulging out from underneath Dean's skin, stretching it, making the freckles and the treasure trail stand up just ripe for Sam's tongue and teeth.
When he licked around Dean's navel and dipped a finger in while spreading his other palm all across the watermelon sized bulge, he smiled at Dean's: "Saaaaaam!"
It was so good to have Dean be vocal, to have Dean completely fuckin' losing it, to have Dean at his mercy, to see Dean let it all out, to see his big brother mewl and cry and have his walls crumble into fine fuckin' dust.
A car drove by their room, flashing bright headlights even through the thick curtain and illuminated Dean's body for a second. A light more powerful than the measly lamp they had turned on and Sam saw how wet Dean's hair was, how much his arms were straining to hold on to the pillow and not rip it, how wet his lips were, how his face was scrounged up in a grimace – pain or pleasure, Sam couldn't tell – how wildly Dean's heart was beating.
It was like looking at the sun and having it wave at you, not burn your eyeballs out. Dean was all power and this close to exploding like a volcano.
The only thing holding him back was … Sam. Sam's orders, Sam's punishment, disappointing Sam, disobeying Sam, letting Sam down.
"Ssss-am, p-p-ppplease, uhhhhh, ggguh, can't, fuckin' h-hhh-hurts, aaaah, owowowow S-s-sammy."
His brother could never disappoint him; anger him, yes, piss him off, for sure, make him sad, oh yeah, but disappoint him? Hadn't happened yet, probably never would.
Even his begging wasn't a disappointment, because Sam'd been expecting it. Dean had lasted for a long time on that sweet, sweet edge of enoughnotenough, and Sam was proud for that. Sure, Dean would have to be punished for that, but … it would be a punishment Dean would chose for himself.
"It's okay Dean, 's okay, 's okay…" he swirled his tongue around Dean's hip while moving across Dean's left leg so that he could kneel by his brother's left side.
"Hey, hey … you wanna safe word?" he whispered into Dean's open mouth, before kissing him; tongue and spit and teeth clashing and whimpers that were swallowed by them both.
He trusted Dean that he'd safe word anything, even punishment – especially after the punishment he received when he hadn't safe worded when he wanted to.
"Sss-sammy …"
He placed his palm on Dean's forehead and pushed his head back, exposing the long line of his brother's goosebumped neck: "Okay then stop begging. What did I say about that, huh?"
"Sam …"
He chuckled at the tremble in Dean's voice and kissed the hollow of his throat, wanting to feel the vibrations of his name on his lips.
"Say my name…"
"Sammy…"
The vibrations made him groan and his lips go almost numb so he licked at them, before going back to Dean's.
The moan Dean released when their lips parted made his dick jump up where it was lying spent and limp again on his thigh.
He ran his right hand up Dean's left one until he came to his fingers that were gripping the pillow in a tight fist. He uncurled them and intertwined them with his in a tight, sweaty grip. He knew that without a steadying grip, Dean would've gone too far into his head, too far into places Sam never wanted Dean to go, places he wasn't sure he'd be able to drag Dean out of. This was not about that. This was simply about …
"Did you learn your lesson?"
Dean nodded.
"Tell me."
"Sam?"
Sam chuckled. Good boy.
"Good boy. C'mon, you can say it."
"Always stop when … when you s-say s-stop…"
"Good, yeah, so good." He whispered while licking the warm, stretched skin of Dean's stomach, tasting his brother's sweat and his own come, but most of all, underneath his tongue he could almost feel all of that liquid sloshing away inside Dean's bladder. He pressed his fingers into the side of the bulge, making Dean hiss in a sharp breath and eliciting a sob from those red, bitten and kissed lips. He stopped pressing in, but he couldn't stop licking the skin, licking right above where he knew Dean ached the most right then, where all of Dean's focus was right then, where everything was coiled tight, ready to snap.
He looked up at Dean and saw him stuffing the soft pillow into his mouth with his right hand, probably trying to muffle the sobs, but they still filled the room. Just like his hisses and grunts and the sound of Sam's tongue sliding in and out of his navel.
"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy pleaseplease, uhhh, uh, ahhh, urgh."
"You're not following orders, Dean. Safe word or shut up!"
"Saaaaaam!"
He scrambled back to lay between his brother's wide spread legs, eyes falling directly to Dean's dick where the catheter was hanging out of the slit. He stopped the flow with a few clicks, but he was sure Dean hadn't heard that happening, not with the way he was whimpering.
Well … it would have to be a surprise then.
He straddled Dean's heaving chest - careful of all the tubes and the pillows, silently thanking all those yoga lessons – leaned forward and gripped Dean's shoulders: "What did I say about begging? What did I say about sayin' anythin' else but my name? Or your safe word? Say my name or I'll never let you piss ever again."
Dean's eyes were wide, leaking, eyelashes stuck together by tears and sweat, but underneath it all, there was lust and trust and love and beauty shining so bright, it nearly made him fall on his ass. He stopped himself just in time, because that would be bad, so bad, he's sit directly down on Dean's bladder and probably cause damage beyond repair. And he'd never, ever do that to his brother. He might make Dean crumble and fall, but he'd never hurt him.
"Sammy…"
His name was a hot breath against his lips and he stroked his thumbs in the little dips in front of Dean's shoulders, just a soft few swipes with his fingers.
"Yeah, 'm here."
"Sammmm …"
"Right here."
He nuzzled at Dean's jaw, kissed it all around, from ear to ear while his fingers slowly ran up and down Dean's biceps. The power in those arms, the strength, the way they held a gun or a knife … he shivered and had to lean closer to run his tongue down his brother's left arm – from shoulder to the bend of the elbow. Those hands had protected him since he was a baby, had fed him, had carried him, had hit him … had pulled him closer or pushed him away, but they always, always held on tight.
"Sam…"
"I…" love you so much.
There was no need for those words to be spoken, not out loud, not ever. The words existed in them and there was no demon, angel or the Devil himself that could erase them.
"Sam…" love you too.
The sigh of his name made him hide his face in the crook of Dean's neck and allow himself and Dean a second, just a barely there second of them. This might be punishment, but they were still them; Sam and Dean and the world could go fuck itself.
"Sam…"
He loved the sound of his name coming from his brother's mouth; especially if it was growled out, husked or croaked, how the three letters broke like a wave on a serrated rock.
"'m here, 'm right here. You're learning so beautifully."
For a moment he thought that he could make Dean suck him; his half-hard dick was already practically shoved right up into Dean's face, just one move and he'd be able to push it right into that hot mouth, but no.
This wasn't about that and they could do that later - tomorrow or in six hours - so he carefully, as carefully as he could, moved back down to kneel between Dean's wide open legs. Dean's dick was limp and shiny with lube and he ached to taste it, just one lick, but no. He wouldn't risk it. Nothing would probably happen, but with their shitty luck, everything would happen. So no, he wouldn't touch it or taste it. But he would devour it with his eyes and he could tell, that just him watching made Dean wanna run away and hide and probably never come out. Not even to eat.
He smiled: "No hiding, Dean."
"Sam…" fuck you..
"Yeah, no, I'd rather fuck you."
"Saaaam…"
Breathing hot air on the cooling spit he just left pooled inside Dean's bellybutton, he chuckled at Dean's whine and slid up his brother's chest with his tongue, right in the middle of the sternum, up his neck, biting softly at Dean's Adam's apple until he could look straight into Dean's eyes again. He loved looking into them, how wide they were open, how big they were, how the lashes were clumped together by moisture, how the pupils were so dilated all the green was gone, how flushed Dean's cheeks were, how bitten and slick his lips were, how his whole face screamed pain, but underneath it was pure hot pleasure.
He slid back down, careful of the tubes and Dean's cock, and pressed a kiss on his brother's left inner thigh, while stretching his arm up and pressing his index finger on Dean's trembling bottom lip: "Get it really wet, all right?"
Dean was good at that, licked and sucked and coated the finger with spit as if his life depended on it. In a way it did.
Sam's cock was twitching again, trying to fill up just by how hot Dean's mouth was around his digit, how slick and wet Dean's tongue was while licking the skin. He really should've made his brother suck him.
He pulled the finger out with a groan from Dean and slowly and carefully slid it down Dean's balls, down the sensitive skin behind them all the way into Dean's asshole, pass the rim, straight towards Dean's prostate.
The noise Dean made when the finger touched the nerves was animalistic, a wounded animal fearing for its life, hitting the bars of its cage, trying to escape even at the cost of its death.
A butterfly trapped in a bottle and losing its wings.
He gently tapped the bundle of nerves once more and carefully withdrew his finger.
"Wanna fuck you so bad right now Dean," he roamed his hands and lips over Dean's stomach, "watch you try and take it all. My cock and the liquid right here," he tapped the finger that'd just been in Dean's ass over the tight bulge and his brother whimpered, tears running down his cheeks in earnest now. No hiding anymore, dams broken, lakes spilling, rivers flooding.
It was magnificent. It was the most stunning sight Sam had ever seen and he had seen a lot.
His brother was a tough son of a bitch, could take down anyone and anything, could get sprayed with blood and guts and make a joke of it, could chop off heads and cut out hearts, shoot straight and stab where it counted, take pain and then some, but … there were different kinds of pains, different kinds of breaking a person, different kinds of breaking points.
A gentle touch.
A soft caress.
A well placed word.
A well placed right word.
A look. Watching and seeing.
"Ssss-sam …"
"But I won't today, some other day yeah. Some other day when you won't take this much."
"Ssss-saaaammy, Sss-sam, samsamsamsamsam…"
"You're okay, s okay. 's all right, I gotcha, Dean. I gotcha."
Dean's skin was warm and stretched and slick with sweat and Sam's come and the taste was addictive, but this had to end. Any more and Dean could get injured or sick and that was not what this was about, Sam would never forgive himself if something would happen to Dean.
"Okay, okay, punishment is over. 's over. You did good, so good, Dean, you did so good."
He ignored the gasps that came from his brother. Relief.
It was all over now.
"'s all over now. It's over. It's done. It's okay. Easy now, just take it easy."