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Sam was horny.
It had taken Dean nearly three hours, two shouting matches, and one episode of Sam storming off angrily for him to finally realize it.
“What’s up with you, man?” Dean asked, once Sam had come slinking grouchily into the kitchen to get his portion of dinner. It was just the two of them in the bunker, thank goodness, so Dean had whipped up some hamburgers.
Sam just shot him a glare.
“No, seriously. What happened? You’ve had bad days, but never like this. Someone murder a baby in front of you on your run this morning?”
“Didn’t go.”
“What was that?”
“I didn’t go on a run this morning. I went to a hunter shop to restock on goofer dust.”
Dean waited, but that seemed to be the end of that. “And? What happened while you were there?” Sam was always so short when he got mad like this.
“I bumped something on my way out, it shattered. Cursed me.”
“You’re cursed?” Dean asked with no small amount of alarm.
“No, its not—its not what you’re thinking. After the store clerk quit laughing at me, he told me the name.”
Sam reached behind him to the table to retrieve a book, showing its open page to Dean.
“Ginyin esgrig s'khor to,” Sam said, mangling the syllables without an ounce of shame. “Its a chastity orb, used by some ancient culture for the months before a marriage ceremony.”
“That sucks,” Dean responded absently, scanning the page for any danger that breaking one of these things might present. “It looks like you aren’t getting any relief any time soon, or else you die.”
“Not only that,” Sam said grimly, taking the book back and reading out a sentence. “’Should this sphere be fractured, it shall engender a pronounced augmentation of one’s libidinal proclivities’ aura, which exhibits a propensity to gravitate toward the individual of a degree of libidinal sensitivity within its proximal vicinity.’”
“Libidinal... enhanced... so basically you’ll be mega-horny for a couple of days? Like, need to get laid, times a million?”
Sam didn't even shoot him a glare at the amusement in his tone, he just looked tired, like even he knew he was unprepared to face the jokes. “Yeah.”
Dean refrained for approximately seven seconds before bursting out into laughter. Sam’s cheeks reddened as he glowered at the wall, an unfortunate bit of genetic code that carried over into his adult life, much to Dean’s amusement and Sam’s chagrin.
“So now you’ll literally die if a woman even looks at you twice and you do anything. Even with your own right hand?”
Sam gave a jerky nod, still not looking at him, and Dean burst into a fresh wave of laughter.
“I am so glad we do not share a room anymore, because you are getting no decent sleep for the next month.”
“Are you done?” Sam snapped.
“Not even close! ” he crowed. But then Dean left it alone and brought out the hamburgers, and they ate dinner in relative silence.
Then Sam disappeared into his room and Dean didn’t see him for the rest of the day. Probably sulking. Well, Dean knew what he wasn’t doing, he realized with a broad smile.
As an early teen, Sam wouldn’t leave it alone, taking multiple showers a day and making suspicious sounds all night.
Dean didn’t know what his brothers masturbation habits were like now, but they were both still young, and if Sam was anything like Dean, this month wouldn’t be an easy one.
And Dean wouldn’t be making it any easier for him, either.
*_*
Sam groaned as he collapsed onto his bed, wincing as his groin came into contact with a particularly large bulge in his rumpled sheets. The urge to hump was shockingly strong.
He sighed again as he rolled himself over with no small amount of effort.
This was going to suck.
He sat there awhile, stewing in horny misery. Luckily there wasn’t a good reason to get out of the house, there wasn’t a big bad that they needed to fight or anything evil out there wouldn’t be dealt with through the hunter network. No way he would be able to focus long enough to fight if Rowena went bad and started trying to rule the world or something.
Although now that the thought had occurred to him, something like that would probably happen. It was just their luck, really.
Taking another deep breath that seemed to rock the bed with its force, he hauled himself to his feet to pace and kind of detach himself from the situation.
First of all he had to come up with some way to take his mind off of… things .
He would be alone in the bunker for a solid amount of time with nothing to do except think about his predicament. He had to start a rigorous workout routine, for starters, maybe the ache in his large muscle groups would distract from aches in, uh, other places.
There was a massive tome in some sort of heinous blend of ancient Egyptian and Enochian from some priestess that had lived before the year 0, Sam had been working on translating it between hunts since he had found it in the basement. It would a good thing to focus on now. Nothing less sexy than ancient angelic ritual curses.
He should also do most of his studying in the Lebanon Community Library, where his hand couldn’t accedentially find itself slipping down the front of his jeans. Or where he just be adjusting himself because his balls were twisted in his underwear weird, then without his consent his palm would start to rub in nice little circular motions…
That had happened more than once, and it hadn’t even been twenty four hours.
But if engaged ancient Zhentarian men could do it, surely Sam could handle it now.
Surely.
All he would really need to do is avoid triggers, and he probably wouldn’t even think about it for weeks. Cutting out porn would be easy, then he would set aside his reading list for a little while and avoid watching rom-coms with sex scenes. Not that Sam watched rom-coms, of course. Just, he would have to avoid them for awhile.
It’s good he lived alone with his brother, who was a great libido-dampener.
*_*
It was not a good thing that he lived alone with his brother.
It started small, so small Sam didn’t realize what was happening and confront him about it until two weeks in.
Dean had stood up from his chair a little too suddenly next to Sam, who was leaning on the table next to him, and Dean had brushed the back of his hand against Sam’s butt.
Sam shot him a glare, but Dean didn’t even see it, too absorbed in fiddling with the oven knobs, so Sam had assumed it was an accident.
The next day, Dean leaned across him on the couch while reaching for the remote on Sam’s other side, pressing his forearm into Sam’s lap. Dean didn’t seem to notice that, either, despite the way Sam made some noise between a groan and a whimper that he would never acknowledge. Usually, Dean would be all over that, but he didn’t even seem to hear.
That’s when Sam started to become suspicious.
He walked into the kitchen, looking for breakfast after a run, to find Dean watching some nasty porn, screen facing the door. Dean wasn’t even doing anything, fully clothed, just sitting there, casual as anything.
“Hey Sammy, how was your run?” Dean had to talk a little louder over the wrecked screaming of the woman in the video and the over-the-top grunts of the big guy that was topping her.
Sam had to tear his eyes away from the screen and bolt out of the room before he did something that would kill him, brother in the room or not.
He should consider himself lucky, he supposed, that Dean didn’t bend a girl over on the Men of Letters table "accidentally” at the same time that Sam would be coming home. Even Dean knew that that would be taking it too far.
“We need to talk,” Sam rounded on his eventually, bursting into his room unannounced so that there was no way Dean could possibly have anything planned.
“Yeah?” Dean grunted, lounging back and scratching at his chest.
Sam found his eyes drawn down to the motion; it seemed to last forever. Back and forth, fingers tightening and loosening around a nipple.
He tried to close his mouth and clear his throat, trying to remember what he was here to talk about. His own nipples weren’t even sensitive, but now they were tingling, begging to be touched.
A small chuckle broke Sam out of his daze, and he ripped his eyes from his brother to stare at the ceiling. “It’s getting to you, huh?”
Sam’s brow furrowed at the smirk in Dean’s voice. But then his voice dropped, into something low and seductive, teasing in a way brothers should never use to address each other, and it became so much worse.
“I bet this is so hard for you, all this pressure. You must be wishing someone would hold you down right about now, make you take it, that way it can’t be your fault, and whatever happens would just happen. Bet you would love teeth in your neck and a hard thigh between your—”
“Okay okay stop! I get it, alright?” Sam cut him off, a little more manically than he would have liked. He knew his face was red hot, and he couldn’t keep the little tremble out of his voice that betrayed his paper-thin self control.
He needed to end this, quick, or he would stop being able to breathe with the effort of keeping his pathetically desperate hands away. Each word sent spasms of electricity through the space under Sam’s skin, heading downward through his spine in a way that made his breath hitch.
What’s worse is the way Dean talked to him like he was a girl. Not even that; Dean talked to him like he was one of the girls he was seducing into his bed. It was demeaning , and Sam couldn’t even say anything about it because it still worked on him.
To his horror, and it should have been to Dean’s horror too, but for some reason he looked delighted, Sam found that his entire body was shaking with strain and his knees felt like putty. He needed to sit down, but they both knew as soon as he sat down, he would do something he wouldn’t live to regret.
Luckily Dean seemed to take a little mercy on him and stayed quiet while Sam started pacing instead, trying to gather his scattered brain enough to say what he wanted to say.
“Alright look. This is going to be a long month for me. Its scary enough having the threat of death at my heels—” Dean shoots Sam the unimpressed look that he probably deserves, pulling out the I’m afraid of dying again card is a last-resort kind of move, “— and if you’re not going to help me find a cure to get this thing off of me before the month is up, it’ll be better for both of us that you don’t mention it again.”
Sam knew instantly he had said something wrong. He didn’t know what it was, but the way Dean’s mouth started to curve up wickedly was never a good sign.
Slowly, nonchalantly, Dean stood up, sauntering—because that was the best way to describe the unnecessarily predatory motion—towards Sam, who had ended up, somehow, almost pressed against the door.
Dean lifted up a hand, making Sam flinch a little bit as he tracked the motion with wide, dilated eyes, setting his palm to the door next to Sam’s head and caging him against the wall.
Sam’s eyes darted to Dean’s face and he immediately regretted that, because he saw only dark, furrowed brow and a tight jaw, with eye contact so direct and intense that Sam couldn’t help but squirm and shrink and try to relieve some of the pressure building under his skin.
This was ridiculous , some small, logically intact piece of Sam’s brain piped up. Any other time this wouldn’t have affected Sam at all, but now it’s like Sam’s never been this turned on before.
And by a display of dominance ?
“Sammy,” Dean whispered, lips nearly brushing the shell of his ear.
The little voice in Sam’s head promptly shut up.
“I’m your big brother, of course I can help . All you had to do was ask, I’ll help any way you could ever want me to.” Then he reached up with his free hand and brushed the tips of his pointer and middle fingers over the curve of Sam’s open lips. It was very nearly the only skin-to-skin contact Sam had gotten in the entire month, and his entire focus tunneled on the small movements.
Yeah, he was panting like a dog. He couldn’t even muster up the will to be embarrassed about it, not when Dean was touching him like that. Like he wanted to eat Sam alive.
Oh Dean’s fingers were gone. When did that happen?
Sam looked around for a few seconds before spotting his brother, who had collapsed on the floor.
It took Sam a few seconds for his brain to reboot and notice that Dean was groaning softly, with his arms curled around his center and his knees tucked close to his chest.
There was a soft yellow glow, same color as the orb was, Sam realized dimly, emanating from Dean’s core.
Dean groaned again, but this time it was less pained and more familiar.
Suddenly Sam recalled a line from the book on the orb.
“It exhibits a propensity to gravitate toward the individual of a degree of libidinal sensitivity within its proximal vicinity,” he quoted aloud with a breathless disbelieving chuckle. “You’re turned on enough that it spread to you too! By your own teasing, really Dean?”
It felt unimaginably good, better than sex would feel probably, to see the glare Dean aimed up at him from under nearly closed eyelids and furrowed brows.
Sam huffed out another laugh, still a little out of breath, and sank to the floor heavily. “This is going to suck, you know. We might need to start avoiding each other for the rest of the month.”
Yeah, it would be a long month without his brother, but things would only escalate if some throwaway comment was taken in a decidedly wrong way, and neither Sam nor Dean would have the self-control to stop… whatever would happen.
Based on the way Dean couldn’t stop groaning and had progressed to little back-and-forth rocking motions, this would be much harder (ha) for him than it would be for Sam, although Dean would have to bear it for less time.
Then suddenly Dean shot to his feet. His face was a color that Sam had never seen before, an ugly splotchy red that spread down his neck and into his shirt. Every muscle was pulled tight. Sam raised his eyebrows at him. Weirdly, seeing Dean so bent out of shape made it easier to regain his composure.
“You wish,” he hissed, “I’ll get you back for this, Sammy.”
And then he turned and fled from the room, slamming the door behind him. Sam sighed once he was gone, slumping against the wall. This was going to be a very long three weeks.
Then he turned away from the door with a wicked grin. He had to start making plans.