Sam of course is an abomination

[both are “ghosts”]

D: [tries touching Sam’s chest, his arm goes right through him] am I making you uncomfortable?

S: get out of me.

D: you’re such a prude.

He’d full on cup his asscheeks through his jeans, yank him close until sam’s crotch hits perfectly under dean’s chin while looking up at him like he’s sex-starved (they just fucked in the impala on the way back).

then sam’s scolding him to keep still as if he wasn’t getting bricked-up in his pants from dean’s neediness

(archived from twitter)

1. He moans his little brother’s name in bed.

2. He dresses you up like his little brother

3. He asks you to call him onii-Chan. When you do he loses it.

4. He takes every possible opportunity to talk to you about his little brother’s. Especially on dates.

Dean knows and remembers all of it. When Sam first lost a bet and stupidly agrees to let Dean do as he pleases to his face with the use of products he had casually stolen from a lady at a bar. It was all fun and games, it was supposed to be funny until your stomach starts hurting.

Now, he's staring down at his little brother, velvet lipstick smeared on his lips and waterfall of clumpy mascara running down his cheeks. Dean's hand were secured around his neck as he watched his dick disappear underneath the cheerleader skirt Sam was wearing.

He looked awful. Like a drunk whore dumped in an alley from a sex party.. and so beautiful like he was made for this. For Dean.

Sam's evidence stained across Dean's thumb, the white sheets beneath them, and etching sinful sounds all around for the room to remember. God, he was so loud, and he wouldn't stop crying, painting his face in shades of red and black. It was just lipstick and mascara, but Dean didn't expect Sam to make such an art from it.

"De-- please! oh- god!" Sam could call out to god a hundred times, but it always rolled out of his tongue perfectly. Not only that, but Dean's name all over again.

Then Sam's begging for permission to cum, it was pathetic. Tears flowing from his eyes non-stop, a hand against the headboard to keep himself from thumping on it, and the other on Dean's abdomen as if preventing them from fusing together because Dean was inching towards him hard.

Dean couldn't take it anymore. He had to. He needs to, so bad.

He leans down to satisfy his agonizing hunger, wanting to savor what Sam tasted like. He didn't mind if the taste was bitter from the lipstick smudged past the lining of Sam's lips, or when he got the velvet mess all over his own mouth but kept sucking all the way down to his brother's neck to spread the mark evenly.

That's when Sam's cries turned louder. Dean's hands went under his skirt and moved it out the way because he wanted a clear view of when Sam cums untouched.