#fighterflightwrites

Their limbs ached, muscles groaned in protest every night when they crawled into bed, too exhausted to do much more than cast the other a sleepy smile and feel asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. It was hard work, not like they weren’t used to it but it was still hard on their bodies.

They needed to lay low for a while after a run in with the law had them tucking tail and running all the way to the other side of the country. After driving nearly two days straight through from Virginia to Montana, they managed to snag a job up in Big Sky country as a farmhand mending fences all day and feeding cattle.

It was one of those jobs where there weren’t many questions asked, people came and went quite regularly and the boys were grateful for it.

They would wake before four thirty, bodies still craving sleep as they made their way to the main house where the rancher's wife would already have breakfast on the table. There never was much conversation this early in the day. Everyone more concerned with getting the much needed caffeine from the strong black coffee into their bodies and stuffing their mouths full of eggs and bacon and whatever else that was on the table.

Everyone would file out of the main house and load up on the tractor and the rancher would take them out to the portion of land that they would be working on for the day.

Noon rolled around and there would be a short break for lunch, usually sandwiches loaded up with meat and then it was back to work until just after the sunset. There would be dinner already on the kitchen table by the time they got back to the main house and everyone would be too tired from working outside all day to say much.

And then they would fall into bed, welcoming the few hours of sleep before their alarm went off and they would have to wake up to do it all over again.

Other than the fact that it was hard work, it was relaxing for both of the brothers. There wasn’t much thinking involved. They would either have to dig holes to put the post in for the fence that seemed to stretch for miles or haul hay up onto the waiting hands of another farmhand who was on the back of the trailer so the rancher could go into town and sell it. It was mindlessly work and it was something that both boys craved.

They could make a mistake and while it might involve getting a new blister in the palm of their hands or a couple of bruises, it didn’t kill them. They could make a mistake and the worst thing that would happen would the laughs that would echo off the mountains from the other farmhands as they looked at sprawled out form of the boy that was trapped underneath the bale of hay that had fallen.

They had been on the ranch for several weeks now, saving up the little money that they got paid in a mason jar that Dean kept by his gun. There wasn’t much to complain about. Other than the fact that their hands were now calloused and their skin was much darker from being out in the sun all day, they always had food in their stomach and knew that there was a bed waiting for them at the end of the day.

They had Sunday’s off whether not they were religious. Most of the farmhands would dress up in their Sunday best, which usually consisted of a pair of darker colored jeans, a nicer looking plaid shirt and their old scuffed work boots and they would follow the rancher and his wife into town for Sunday service.

No one would say much when Sam and Dean would politely decline the offer of going into town with them, choosing the sleep in just a little longer before going into the kitchen and clean what little they could.

The rancher’s wife one Sunday pulled them over to the side saying that they were welcomed into the house of God, no matter who they choose to love, looking between the two boys, thinking that the reason that they didn’t want to go was because of their alternative lifestyle. Neither of them cared enough to correct her that they were siblings even though they did decide to fall into bed with each other.

After church, the rancher’s wife would come home and start cooking up Sunday lunch. Their first Sunday there, Sam and Dean offered to help her out in the kitchen but they learned very quickly that it was best to stay out of her way.

An hour later, the table would be piled high with food, cornbread, and mashed potatoes and pork and just about everything else. By the time that everyone finished eating their meal, the timer on the old oven that she cooked on would go off and she would pull out a freshly baked pie, apple or cherry or peach, whatever was in season, and cut up a slice for every farmhand topped with freshly made ice cream.

More times than not, with their stomachs stuffed and the kitchen cleaned, everyone would fall into bed early and sleep for the remainder of the day.

Sundays were becoming something that they cherished. All throughout the week, there wasn’t time to be alone with just each other with the threat of someone walking in on them or working hanging over their head.

But on Sundays there were only a couple of hours early in the morning that they were alone and most of the time they spent it in their own beds, trying to desperately catch up on their sleep and let their bodies rest.

That week seemed to be more exhausting than the previous weeks that they had worked. Several of the farmhands decided that they had been there long enough and thought that it was time for a change of scenery which meant that the remaining men on the ranch had to pick up the slack. There were a couple of days that they worked through lunch and well into the night, trying to get all the work done.

By the time that Sam and Dean got back to the bunk house, they were both nearly zombies, stumbling around with half closed eyes and falling onto their beds with a heavy thud and falling asleep without even getting under the covers.

Sam was pulled from his dreamless slumber to the sound of something being rustled above him and several tired grunts. He nestled deeper into the blankets of his head, pulling them up to his chin trying to will his body back to sleep.

Sam could feel his brother hovering at the side of the bed, making up his bed and folding his clothes. Even though Dean was being quiet, it still pulled him away from the sleep that he wanted and into full awareness. There was light already peaking through the small window that the thin curtains did nothing to keep out the sun and the room lacked the presence of all the other farmhands. They were probably all at church already, singing praise to a god that Sam still tried to have faith in.

But if they were gone, it meant that it was only him and his brother left in the room and while he wanted to sleep for just a little while longer, just a few more minutes, the fact that they were completely alone woke him up more than coffee ever could.

Sam rolled over, opening his eyes to see nothing more than the tanned skin of his brother and a pair of jeans that were hanging dangerously low on his hips with the button undone, promising so much that was hidden underneath the denim. Dean smelled of soap and sure enough the were still little drops of water on his skin from having just stepped out of the shower.

It had been days, weeks since Sam had touched his brother and here he was practically offering himself to Sam.

If Sam was a stronger man, he would have kept his hands to himself but he honestly couldn’t help himself. He propped himself up on an elbow as he reached out to grab hold of Dean’s waist. Dean flinched but looked down at his brother, hair spiked up from the shower and a small smirk on his face.

“Morning, baby boy,” Dean muttered, his voice gruff.

In response, Sam sat up, pressing his lips to Dean’s hip before licking a broad stripe up Dean’s stomach, all the way from the coarse hair that was barely being hidden in his jeans up to his chest, pressing another quick kiss to Dean’s heated skin before licking back down.

“Sammy…” Dean moaned, leaning forward just a little bit, closer to Sam as he grabbed the edge of the top bunk with one hand and his other hand got buried in Sam’s hair that had grown longer with the weeks that they had been there.

On the ranch, there was no need for shaving or haircuts. Both boys were rugged, hair longer on the top of their heads and both sporting scuff that they both knew would leave delicious bread burn in between their legs.

Sam pressed a kiss to Dean’s hipbone as he pushed Dean’s jeans down his legs.

Dean didn’t have to hide the moan that fell past his lips as Sam took him in his mouth, seeming as there was no reason to hide it since there was no one other than Sam in the room to hear it. Sam took him as far into his mouth as he could before pulling off, wrapping his hand around Dean’s cock, his lips flirting around his skin, peppering Dean with light kisses. He kissed everywhere he could. On his stomach, his waist, his hipbones, the meaty flesh of his thighs, biting down just a little bit to leave a mark.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean moaned, hips bucking into Sam’s hand just ever so slightly, seeking out the friction that he needed. “I’ve waited long enough for you. Don’t tease me, man.”

Sam looked up at Dean through his bands and smiled this cheeky little grin before Sam wrapped his lips around his cock again, keeping his hand at the base of his cock. Dean choked off a broken moan as Sam teased over the tip of Dean’s cock, moaning around him at the salt taste of his brother.

In the back of his mind, Dean knew that he could keep an eye on the door. Even though nearly everyone was away at church, anyone could walk through that door and see them and while everyone seemed open enough to the idea that they were together, Dean wasn’t too sure how they would react to see one of them balls deep inside the other’s mouth. But when Sam was buried between your legs, bobbing up and down your cock, that was something that you didn’t want to miss.

“Fucking hell, Sammy,” Dean groaned, resting his forehead against the bed. “Your mouth feels so good, lips stretched around my cock like that.”

Sam moaned around Dean, the sound sending all kinds of vibrations up and down Dean that had him clutching onto Sam’s hair harder. Sam couldn’t help himself. He slid his own hand down his body, sticking his hand into his sweatpants and pulled out his own hard cock, hand running up and down his shaft.

“Yeah, there you go, baby brother. Let me see how much you’re enjoying this.” Dean’s eyes were blown so wide with lust and desire as he watched Sam stroke his cock.

Dean’s trembling above Sam, knuckles white from gripping the bed and he’s trying so hard to not completely take over Sam’s mouth, fucking him relentlessly. Sam ran his tongue along the underside of him before pulling off with a loud, wet obscene pop, running his tongue along his parted bottom lip, making a show of how red and swollen his lips were.

“You can fuck my mouth if you want to, De…” Sam muttered, looking so goddamn innocent with his big beautiful hazel eyes looking up at him.

Dean clenched his jaw before grabbing Sam’s head with both hands and Sam opened his mouth, all the more than willing and waiting. This time Dean didn’t hold back as he fucked into Sam’s relaxed mouth.

Sam’s own hand sped up as he stroked his cock harder, nearly keeping the same pace that Dean was currently fucking his mouth.

“Your mouth feels so good, Sammy. So fucking good.” Dean mumbled, too far gone, barely able to complete a sentence.

Sam hummed around him, satisfied.

“Come on, baby boy, come in your hand for me. I wanna see it.”

There wasn’t much more said, both boys unable to say anything, Sam with his mouth stuffed full of Dean and Dean too lost in the pleasure of what it felt like to have Sam’s mouth on him. Sam was the one who came first, never one to hold out much when Dean used him like this. It turned him beyond belief and he came long and hard, coating his stomach and hand.

Dean groaned at the sight, watching as Sam relaxed completely underneath him, his jaw completely lax and it was only a half a dozen thrusts later when Dean was coming down Sam’s throat.

Sam reached up and grabbed hold of Dean’s waist, rubbing small, reassuring circles on his hip as Dean’s movements stilled until he pulled out, Sam leaving a teasing lick on the overly sensitive underside of him.

Sam looked down at the mess that was on his stomach and then up at Dean, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“You think we’ve got enough time to take a shower before they come back?” Sam asked, throwing the blankets off his body and stood up beside Dean.