Even in his sleep he could hear the moans - low, ghostly, unearthly sounds. He searched frantically for the source but could find nothing in the darkness. He could feel the air wafting over his body, cool at first, followed by bursts of warmth, like a spirit blowing over him.

He could hear the low murmur of voices but couldn't make out what they were saying. Random words pierced his brain through the fog of sleep. Simple things, like 'want", "need", "more". Spectral heads floated above him, reminders of the demons he had slain. Interspersed through them all was a face that brought him comfort, joy…happiness.

A warm feeling rushed up into his belly and he thought he felt something between his legs. Warm fingers wrapping around his hardness, slowly caressing him. He smiled, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. It wasn't the first time he had dreamed of ghosts and getting off at the same time. It was a hazard of the job, one he was used to after all the years he has spent ridding the world of them, but this time it was…different.

The touches were more insistent, as if the spirits were trying to draw his very soul from his body. Perhaps they were, but in his dream, the face became more clear. The ghostly apparition turned into his brother, his Sammy and in his sleep, Dean smiled. It was something he had always wanted, always needed, but never had the nerve to ask for.

When he felt the wet warmth surround his cock, he knew this dream was different. Somehow, it felt more real than ever before. A noise snapped him from his dream state and as he opened his eyes, he realized it wasn't a dream. Hovering over him, dark hair bobbing between his legs, he realized Sam really was there. And he really was naked. His voice alluded him for a moment, and when he finally found it, it cracked as he spoke.

"What the hell are you doing, Sammy?" he asked, in more of a croak than a whisper. His little brother raised his head, wiping the saliva from his chin as he smiled, eyes twinkling. "Whatever I want, that's what," Sammy replied before swallowing Dean's cock once again. He wanted to protest, to argue, to rationalize. But he realized that Sammy's tongue was far better at licking the head of his cock than it was at delivering his smart-ass remarks and for once, Dean was speechless.

He grabbed Sammy's hair, trying to take control of the situation, to buy himself some time but his hands were slapped away, his hips forced back onto the bed and a feral growl from his little brother made him think twice about trying again.

He had seen all sorts of monsters and demons disintegrate before his eyes. They turned to dust, or puddles of smelly goo. Some sparkled in the moonlight, others screamed, writhing in agony. But now he was the one that was in danger of exploding. The blood spread through his body like molten lava, preparing to erupt form a long dormant volcano. With a strangled cry, he grabbed Sammy's head again and bucked up into the heat, releasing every ounce of fluid his body could muster.

Moments ticked away as Dean tried to breathe again. He felt Sammy move, lay next to him on the bed. He even felt his brother watching him, his eyes boring straight into the very core of his soul. When he trusted himself to speak, Dean spoke only one word - "why?"

With an impish grin and a shrug of his broad shoulders, Sammy simply replied, "Because I wanted to, that's why." Again, Dean started to protest, to offer some words of wisdom as to why they shouldn't be doing this, but his heart was overruling his brain. Sammy was touching him again. And talking. The words swirled around his brain before making sense.

"I've always wanted to, but you would never take me seriously if I'd told you, so I just did it," Sammy told him. "You're always saying I gotta learn to take charge. Might not have been what you were talking about, but I decided your advice applied to this as well." Dean nodded mutely, unable to speak because of the long, nimble fingers playing over the inside of his thighs. "I…me too…just…didn't think you would…"

Sammy laughed at his brother's lack of cool. Totally unlike Dean. Always demanding, always directing. But now it was his turn. He moved up the bed, straddling his brother's chest then looked down into Dean's eyes. "Do me a favor, Dean," he said quietly. Dean nodded mutely, his eyes focused on the hard cock inches from his face. "Suck me," Sammy said huskily. "Then fuck me. We can talk about it later." Sammy's forcefulness sent a shiver down Dean's spine as he began to fulfill his brother's request. Who was he to argue with the logic of Sam Winchester?