Brotherly Love Ch. 5
"My pants don't fit."
"Gee, I wonder why that is," I muttered into my pillow.
"No, I'm serious, they don't fit. None of them do."
I heard the rustle of denim, and grimaced. "Don't wear mine."
"I can't." Something made of cloth landed on the floor. "They're a size smaller than mine."
I rolled over and pushed myself up, kicking the covers off and blinking in the early-morning sunlight coming in through the window. I glanced at the cheap digital clock on the bedside table and groaned. Six-thirty. You had to be kidding me.
"What the hell are you doing up so early?" I rubbed my eyes with one hand.
"I couldn't sleep." Apparently giving up on pants, Sam sat back down on his bed, not looking at me. I didn't have any problem with looking at him, or taking mental stock of what had changed.
It'd been a week since we'd first come to Berington, and our relationship was strained. Sam had apparently adopted two very different personas. Most of the time, he barely talked to me, refused to even look at me, and spent a lot of time staring into space. Probably trying to align his moral compass with what we were doing. And then, out of nowhere, he'd change. He'd get my attention, talking me into ordering room service or something, and then we'd...well. I'd change, too. And yeah, it bothered me, a little. But I liked it enough to ignore that most of the time.
Sam'd changed in other ways, too. He had a fast metabolism, and it was helped along by scaling fences and fighting superhumanly strong creatures on a regular basis. But it couldn't quite keep with the sheer amount of calories I'd been shoving into him all week. He had started to get a bit of a belly, barely noticeable with clothes on but pretty evident right now. To be completely honest, I loved it.
"Why couldn't you sleep?" I asked idly, standing up and heading for where Sam had tossed my jeans onto the floor.
He rubbed the back of his neck, and kept his head down. "I was hungry."
That set off a familiar burst of excitement. I grinned, and patted him on the back. "Well. We can fix that."
He looked up and, tentatively, grinned back, and I knew he was mine for as long as I wanted him. It still set off a feeling of reluctance, of 'something-is-so-freaking-wrong-here,' but I'd come to terms with it over the last week.
"At least try to get dressed." I pushed a shirt at him. "I'm not doing anything with you almost naked...what do you want?"
He flashed me a crooked smile and swept his bangs away from his eyes. "You can choose for me."
"That's what I like to hear." My grin widened, and I patted him on the shoulder before reaching for the phone. "How does ice cream sound?"
"Fantastic." Sam leaned back, stretching out on the bed. He had managed to get his shirt on, and a pair of jeans, though he hadn't zipped or buttoned them. His stomach stuck out slightly, and I tried to ignore the sudden urge I had to run my fingers along the soft curve of it. I wanted to keep this as not-weird as possible for as long as possible.
Ordering didn't take long. Neither did the delivery. Within a couple minutes, the same pudgy girl who always seemed to show up. She handed me a big tray with several domes on it, smiling.
"Thanks." I nodded to her and nudged the door closed with one shoulder. I heard her pad away, and it occurred to me that, one of these days, I should really try to figure out what her name was.
I set the tray down on the table, and glanced back at Sam before lifting one of the domes to reveal a pretty big bowl of ice cream. It was piled high with the works-whipped cream, chocolate syrup, cherries. And this was only the first dish. I shook my head and whistled.
"Hope you're hungry, Sammy." Cradling the bowl in one arm and picking up a spoon with my free hand, I headed back over to the beds. Sam's eyebrows went up when he saw what I was carrying.
"I dunno. That might be all I can manage this morning," he said uneasily.
"Sure." I shoved the first spoonful into his mouth.
"Mmph!" Apparently, he hadn't been ready. He tried to sit up, cheeks bulging, but I put a hand on his chest and gently forced him back down.
"It's okay." I smiled down at him, leaning over him and stuffing another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.
He didn't protest as I fed him. He closed his eyes, groaning a little as I set the bowl down and touched the small part of his belly that was visible. It was warm, and soft. I picked up the pace a little, barely pausing to let him breathe. Within fifteen minutes, his stomach had grown under my hand, pushing his shirt up and forcing his jeans open. Sam was already full, his belly stuffed with ice cream. I set the now-empty bowl aside and stood up.
"Please. Let's just call it a day for now," he panted, propping himself up on his elbows and shooting me a pleading glance.
"You kidding?" I patted his stomach, and he laid back down, obviously enjoying the contact. "You've barely eaten anything, Sammy. You're wasting away. I worry about you."
I went back to the tray, lifting a second dome. There wasn't ice cream under this one-it was a platter of brownies. Apparently, the kitchens had had enough insight to send us a variety of treats. Lifting another dome revealed a pie, though I couldn't tell what the filling was. It looked fantastic, but c'mon, I'm not as dumb as I look. I knew better than to eat anything room service brought us.
"We're gonna test your limits today, Sam," I announced, turning around with a plate in each hand.
He raised his head to see what I was talking about, then dropped it back to the pillow with a groan. "Dean, you can't be serious."
"Oh, but I am." Setting the pie down on the bedside table, I sent whatever reservations I still had to hell and climbed up onto the bed. I was careful not to drop any brownies as I swung one leg over my brother's body and settled onto his thighs, straddling him. Sam raised his head a little, eyes wide.
"Ah. You're lookin' at me funny." I picked up on of the brownies and grinned. "Shouldn't do that. Might give me the wrong idea."
"There's no way I can eat-" He was cut off by a brownie being stuffed in his mouth.
"C'mon, have a little faith."
The first couple didn't seem to give him much trouble. His stomach got a little bigger with every bite, and I rubbed it with one hand while feeding him with the other. He closed his eyes again, making tiny sounds of pleasure that I hadn't heard from him since he started dreaming about girls at thirteen. I smiled.
After the fourth brownie, a little bit of pain flickered across Sam's face. He raised one hand to his swollen belly, wincing. I leaned in close as I crammed the fifth one into his mouth.
"Getting full?" I asked quietly.
"Mmph..." He swallowed, and opened his eyes. The exact same shade of green as mine. "Yeah. But...don't stop."
"Are you sure?" I picked up another brownie.
"It tastes so good." Sam closed his eyes and opened his mouth. "It feels so good."
"Of course it does." I rubbed his belly gently, sitting back up as I fed him the brownie that I was holding.
There were an even dozen on the plate, and he obediently ate every one of them. When he was done, his shirt had ridden completely up, totally exposing his stomach. He was about as stuffed as I had ever seen him. The skin was taut and warm, but his belly was still soft. And that was my cue to keep going.
I exchanged the empty plate for the one with the pie on it. Sam cracked one eye open and groaned, turning away.
"I physically can't, Dean."
"You can, and you will." I eased the tip of the first of eight slices into his mouth. "C'mon, Sammy. I know you want more. No matter how much I feed you, it's never enough for this growing belly of yours." I patted it, but gently.
Reluctantly, he started to eat. I could tell he honestly didn't want any more, but he couldn't stop himself. Not as long as I was there to tempt him.
He finished the first slice and groaned loudly, clutching his belly with both hands. Panting, he shifted a little as I rubbed it again, and the discomfort that was evident on his face eased. I kept up the whole magic-touch thing as I readied a second slice of pie.
"Y'know, damn, you've had a lot already," I murmured, watching him eat. "Maybe you shouldn't eat any more. I mean, you've got quite a gut going here..."
I dug my fingers into his stomach, just a little, and got a grunt of mixed pleasure and pain in response. "But, hey, that's okay. Personally...I think it looks good on you."
"Dean," Sam gasped. I could barely hear him.
"What?" I leaned in, close.
With effort, he pushed himself up on one elbow and pressed his mouth against mine. It shocked me just enough to kill any chance I had of staying sane and pulling away.
Sam tasted sweet, which, I guess, was to be expected. Against every higher function that was screaming at me in horror, I tilted my head a little, so he could get at me better. Base instinct made me cradle his head in one hand, burying my fingers in the soft curls of his hair. And I kissed back, moving my mouth against his in a way I knew would make him happy.
Kissing. I was kissing my brother. And, for some reason, it didn't bother me in the slightest.
I wrapped my other arm around him, hauling him into an upright position, and broke contact for just a second so he could hiss in discomfort. And then my lips were back on his. My arms tightened, and his stuffed belly pressed against me. I was about seconds away from doing something I would regret.
I broke away, gasping, and let go of Sam, squeezing my eyes shut and doing my best to think unsexy thoughts. I dug my fingernails into my own palms as hard as I could. After about thirty seconds, my heartrate stopped smashing through the roof and some of the urgent sexual need I felt ebbed. I opened my eyes and cast a weary glance at Sam.
He was kneeling next to me, panting, his bangs plastered to his forehead and his eyes wide. His bulging stomach was red where I'd rubbed against it, and there were clear impressions of the buttons on my shirt in his skin. God. He really was full. It was all I could do not to throw myself at him again.
Sam took a deep breath. "I am so-"
"Maybe I should just leave for a bit," I suggested shakily, climbing off the bed.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay." I could tell, just by listening to him, that he wanted me to stay. But I wasn't sure I was ready for...whatever would happen if I did. I needed to walk off this high I was on.
And then I'd definitely come back.
"Gee, I wonder why that is," I muttered into my pillow.
"No, I'm serious, they don't fit. None of them do."
I heard the rustle of denim, and grimaced. "Don't wear mine."
"I can't." Something made of cloth landed on the floor. "They're a size smaller than mine."
I rolled over and pushed myself up, kicking the covers off and blinking in the early-morning sunlight coming in through the window. I glanced at the cheap digital clock on the bedside table and groaned. Six-thirty. You had to be kidding me.
"What the hell are you doing up so early?" I rubbed my eyes with one hand.
"I couldn't sleep." Apparently giving up on pants, Sam sat back down on his bed, not looking at me. I didn't have any problem with looking at him, or taking mental stock of what had changed.
It'd been a week since we'd first come to Berington, and our relationship was strained. Sam had apparently adopted two very different personas. Most of the time, he barely talked to me, refused to even look at me, and spent a lot of time staring into space. Probably trying to align his moral compass with what we were doing. And then, out of nowhere, he'd change. He'd get my attention, talking me into ordering room service or something, and then we'd...well. I'd change, too. And yeah, it bothered me, a little. But I liked it enough to ignore that most of the time.
Sam'd changed in other ways, too. He had a fast metabolism, and it was helped along by scaling fences and fighting superhumanly strong creatures on a regular basis. But it couldn't quite keep with the sheer amount of calories I'd been shoving into him all week. He had started to get a bit of a belly, barely noticeable with clothes on but pretty evident right now. To be completely honest, I loved it.
"Why couldn't you sleep?" I asked idly, standing up and heading for where Sam had tossed my jeans onto the floor.
He rubbed the back of his neck, and kept his head down. "I was hungry."
That set off a familiar burst of excitement. I grinned, and patted him on the back. "Well. We can fix that."
He looked up and, tentatively, grinned back, and I knew he was mine for as long as I wanted him. It still set off a feeling of reluctance, of 'something-is-so-freaking-wrong-here,' but I'd come to terms with it over the last week.
"At least try to get dressed." I pushed a shirt at him. "I'm not doing anything with you almost naked...what do you want?"
He flashed me a crooked smile and swept his bangs away from his eyes. "You can choose for me."
"That's what I like to hear." My grin widened, and I patted him on the shoulder before reaching for the phone. "How does ice cream sound?"
"Fantastic." Sam leaned back, stretching out on the bed. He had managed to get his shirt on, and a pair of jeans, though he hadn't zipped or buttoned them. His stomach stuck out slightly, and I tried to ignore the sudden urge I had to run my fingers along the soft curve of it. I wanted to keep this as not-weird as possible for as long as possible.
Ordering didn't take long. Neither did the delivery. Within a couple minutes, the same pudgy girl who always seemed to show up. She handed me a big tray with several domes on it, smiling.
"Thanks." I nodded to her and nudged the door closed with one shoulder. I heard her pad away, and it occurred to me that, one of these days, I should really try to figure out what her name was.
I set the tray down on the table, and glanced back at Sam before lifting one of the domes to reveal a pretty big bowl of ice cream. It was piled high with the works-whipped cream, chocolate syrup, cherries. And this was only the first dish. I shook my head and whistled.
"Hope you're hungry, Sammy." Cradling the bowl in one arm and picking up a spoon with my free hand, I headed back over to the beds. Sam's eyebrows went up when he saw what I was carrying.
"I dunno. That might be all I can manage this morning," he said uneasily.
"Sure." I shoved the first spoonful into his mouth.
"Mmph!" Apparently, he hadn't been ready. He tried to sit up, cheeks bulging, but I put a hand on his chest and gently forced him back down.
"It's okay." I smiled down at him, leaning over him and stuffing another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.
He didn't protest as I fed him. He closed his eyes, groaning a little as I set the bowl down and touched the small part of his belly that was visible. It was warm, and soft. I picked up the pace a little, barely pausing to let him breathe. Within fifteen minutes, his stomach had grown under my hand, pushing his shirt up and forcing his jeans open. Sam was already full, his belly stuffed with ice cream. I set the now-empty bowl aside and stood up.
"Please. Let's just call it a day for now," he panted, propping himself up on his elbows and shooting me a pleading glance.
"You kidding?" I patted his stomach, and he laid back down, obviously enjoying the contact. "You've barely eaten anything, Sammy. You're wasting away. I worry about you."
I went back to the tray, lifting a second dome. There wasn't ice cream under this one-it was a platter of brownies. Apparently, the kitchens had had enough insight to send us a variety of treats. Lifting another dome revealed a pie, though I couldn't tell what the filling was. It looked fantastic, but c'mon, I'm not as dumb as I look. I knew better than to eat anything room service brought us.
"We're gonna test your limits today, Sam," I announced, turning around with a plate in each hand.
He raised his head to see what I was talking about, then dropped it back to the pillow with a groan. "Dean, you can't be serious."
"Oh, but I am." Setting the pie down on the bedside table, I sent whatever reservations I still had to hell and climbed up onto the bed. I was careful not to drop any brownies as I swung one leg over my brother's body and settled onto his thighs, straddling him. Sam raised his head a little, eyes wide.
"Ah. You're lookin' at me funny." I picked up on of the brownies and grinned. "Shouldn't do that. Might give me the wrong idea."
"There's no way I can eat-" He was cut off by a brownie being stuffed in his mouth.
"C'mon, have a little faith."
The first couple didn't seem to give him much trouble. His stomach got a little bigger with every bite, and I rubbed it with one hand while feeding him with the other. He closed his eyes again, making tiny sounds of pleasure that I hadn't heard from him since he started dreaming about girls at thirteen. I smiled.
After the fourth brownie, a little bit of pain flickered across Sam's face. He raised one hand to his swollen belly, wincing. I leaned in close as I crammed the fifth one into his mouth.
"Getting full?" I asked quietly.
"Mmph..." He swallowed, and opened his eyes. The exact same shade of green as mine. "Yeah. But...don't stop."
"Are you sure?" I picked up another brownie.
"It tastes so good." Sam closed his eyes and opened his mouth. "It feels so good."
"Of course it does." I rubbed his belly gently, sitting back up as I fed him the brownie that I was holding.
There were an even dozen on the plate, and he obediently ate every one of them. When he was done, his shirt had ridden completely up, totally exposing his stomach. He was about as stuffed as I had ever seen him. The skin was taut and warm, but his belly was still soft. And that was my cue to keep going.
I exchanged the empty plate for the one with the pie on it. Sam cracked one eye open and groaned, turning away.
"I physically can't, Dean."
"You can, and you will." I eased the tip of the first of eight slices into his mouth. "C'mon, Sammy. I know you want more. No matter how much I feed you, it's never enough for this growing belly of yours." I patted it, but gently.
Reluctantly, he started to eat. I could tell he honestly didn't want any more, but he couldn't stop himself. Not as long as I was there to tempt him.
He finished the first slice and groaned loudly, clutching his belly with both hands. Panting, he shifted a little as I rubbed it again, and the discomfort that was evident on his face eased. I kept up the whole magic-touch thing as I readied a second slice of pie.
"Y'know, damn, you've had a lot already," I murmured, watching him eat. "Maybe you shouldn't eat any more. I mean, you've got quite a gut going here..."
I dug my fingers into his stomach, just a little, and got a grunt of mixed pleasure and pain in response. "But, hey, that's okay. Personally...I think it looks good on you."
"Dean," Sam gasped. I could barely hear him.
"What?" I leaned in, close.
With effort, he pushed himself up on one elbow and pressed his mouth against mine. It shocked me just enough to kill any chance I had of staying sane and pulling away.
Sam tasted sweet, which, I guess, was to be expected. Against every higher function that was screaming at me in horror, I tilted my head a little, so he could get at me better. Base instinct made me cradle his head in one hand, burying my fingers in the soft curls of his hair. And I kissed back, moving my mouth against his in a way I knew would make him happy.
Kissing. I was kissing my brother. And, for some reason, it didn't bother me in the slightest.
I wrapped my other arm around him, hauling him into an upright position, and broke contact for just a second so he could hiss in discomfort. And then my lips were back on his. My arms tightened, and his stuffed belly pressed against me. I was about seconds away from doing something I would regret.
I broke away, gasping, and let go of Sam, squeezing my eyes shut and doing my best to think unsexy thoughts. I dug my fingernails into my own palms as hard as I could. After about thirty seconds, my heartrate stopped smashing through the roof and some of the urgent sexual need I felt ebbed. I opened my eyes and cast a weary glance at Sam.
He was kneeling next to me, panting, his bangs plastered to his forehead and his eyes wide. His bulging stomach was red where I'd rubbed against it, and there were clear impressions of the buttons on my shirt in his skin. God. He really was full. It was all I could do not to throw myself at him again.
Sam took a deep breath. "I am so-"
"Maybe I should just leave for a bit," I suggested shakily, climbing off the bed.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay." I could tell, just by listening to him, that he wanted me to stay. But I wasn't sure I was ready for...whatever would happen if I did. I needed to walk off this high I was on.
And then I'd definitely come back.