Eleven months ago exactly, Sam Winchester rose from the dead.

Nine months ago, he'd accidentally-on-purpose sucked his brother off in the shower.

An hour ago, Dean had jerked Sam off in the men's room.

And thirty seconds ago, Sam had walked in on his brother, ass naked, and sprawled on another man's lap.

"Uh…"

Dean was too busy swallowing a mouthful of Jose to bother explaining himself, and the dark haired stranger with the burning blue eyes didn't look like he really gave a damn.

"I'll just…" Wax my nuts. Wash my eyeballs in bleach. Jerk off to every dirty fantasy I've ever had… "Beer. I'll go get beer. Drink beer. Or research. Yeah, I'll-"

Blue eyes smirked. "You're definitely Johnny's boy." He laughed. "Christ, it's like being in a fucking time warp."

Sam was pretty sure his jaw kicked up dust. "You knew our dad?"

Blue eyes laughed, but it was Dean who answered. "Sammy, say hi to Chris Kane." He was still ass naked, and made no attempt to hide the fact that his cock was all but standing to attention. "Kane, stop being an ass."

Kane. Kane…"Caleb's brother?"

To Kane's credit, he didn't so much as flinch at Sam's faux pas. "One and only." Chris grinned.

Sam picked his jaw off the floor and nodded. "Right." Because fuck. "Um…what are you doing here?"

Kane shot Dean a look that made every hair on Sam's body stand on end.

"I was about to fuck your big brother two ways to Sunday," he said smoothly. "You're welcome to join us."

"Kane," Dean growled.

"Dean?"

"Kane's an ass," Dean clarified, fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle.

Chris grinned. "Boy, this ain't about my ass."

If Sam had ever felt the need to put money on his brother's gay sexual preferences, he'd have figured him for a top. Every damn time. So it was with something akin to bemusement that he leant back against the motel door, hands thrust in pockets, and watched Chris manhandle Dean down onto the bed.

Bemusement, and fair desire to fuck his brother through the mattress.

"Come'er Sammy."

"It's Sam," both Sam and Dean corrected.

Kane grinned, unfazed. "You wanna get rid of those clothes of yours, Sam?"

Dean was back to not meeting his eye, but there wasn't a hint of tension in his body, and it wouldn't be the first time they had shared a fuck. Second time Sam ever screwed a girl, Dean had been there, tongue between her legs as Sam fucked her slow and gentle.

Sam obediently removed his clothing, folding everything neatly into a pile, and never once taking his eyes off Dean.

Kane watched him watch his brother with barely concealed amusement. He was shorter than Sam, shorter than Dean was even, but his shoulders were wide and strong, and his arms circled Dean's slim waist without a stretch.

Finally free of everything, including his socks, Sam stood straight. Dean had drunk three shots of tequila in the minutes that had passed, and his eyes were dark and glowing in the dim light.

"How d'you want to do this?" Sam asked, well aware of his lack of experience in gay hunter threesomes.

Kane looked thoughtful for a moment, one hand leisurely stroking Dean's cock. "On the bed," he instructed. "You're gonna hold him tight for me, and I'm gonna suck him off." He spoke to Sam as if Dean wasn't in the room, much less his arms, and for the life of him, Sam couldn't explain why it turned him on so much.

Chris wasn't finished. "Then I'm gonna fuck him. You wanna watch while I fuck your big brother?"

Sam's groan was lost under the volume of Dean's. Kane grinned, looking far more evil than most of the stuff they hunted. "Then, when he's all fucked out and full of my come, you're gonna fuck him."

Sam nodded, not trusting his voice.

It was obvious from the look on Chris's face that he'd never once considered the possibility of Sam saying no.

Cocky bastard. He and Dean were perfect for each other.

"When did you guys meet?" he asked, curious as to why he had never once encountered Chris Kane, and why Dean apparently knew him well enough to fuck him.

The answer was obvious, but it still hurt a little when Kane said, "You were off broadening your horizons." He shrugged. "Dean and I got down and dirty in Texas for a few months."

Months? Fuck…

Dean looked half gone already, his eyes mere slits and his lips bitten raw as Chris steered him over to his brother and laid him down in the cradle of Sam's legs.

Sam immediately took a hold of his brother's wrists, right in his left, left in his right, and pinned Dean's arms to his sides. Kane smiled, then nodded his approval. He didn't spare Dean a second more to prepare himself before he bent down and wrapped his smirking lips around Dean's dick.

Dean wasn't close to being sober. The second his cock was engulfed in the heat of Chris' mouth, he jerked, unconsciously moving towards pleasure and away from Sam's restraining grasp.

Kane took it in his stride, his mouth wide as he let Dean cant his hips, mewling and cursing at each swipe of his tongue.

Dean's ass rubbed enticingly against Sam's dick. He was going to be in that ass. He was going to fuck his brother.

Jesus.

Dean had the same train of thought. "Fuck, fuck, Jesus, fuck," he gasped, and came down Chris' throat with a low moan.

Chris sat up, licked his lips, and then kissed Sam hard on the mouth.

It was a hit and run kiss, barely lasting long enough for Sam to catalogue anything more than the touch, and the taste of Dean's come on his lips.

"Taste good, don't he?"

"I hate you," Dean moaned, thrashing in Sam's arms. They both knew Dean could free himself if he wanted to. Sam got the feeling that for once, Dean wanted someone to take control for him.

Sam had already said it once. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his brother.

"Christ, boy. You know what you look like?" Chris bit a red mark into Dean's thigh, right above a twisted scar Sam had stitched together years back. Sam figured it was a stupid question. Dean always knew what he looked like. His face and his ass were as much of a weapon as the .45 he carried in his waistband. Still, Dean made no coherent comeback, just groaned low in his throat and buried his face into Sam's neck.

Dirty talk, it seemed, sent Dean straight into orbit, and Chris knew exactly which buttons to push, and which to pound on repeatedly. Strong tendons flexed beneath Sam's fingers, Dean's pulse racing as Chris shuffled in further between their spread legs. "You let your baby brother hold you open, huh? Let him spread you wide for me to fuck. Christ, Dean. So fucking hot for it. You ain't changed a bit."

Strong, scarred fingers caught Dean's chin, and Sam easily took the extra weight as Chris leaned in and ravaged his brother's mouth. He could feel Dean's desire to pull Chris in closer, and tightened his hold on Dean's wrists. His brother's mouth, always so ready with a sarcastic comment, was stained red and swollen, rounded into a perfect little 'o' of desire that made Sam's cock twitch against Dean's back.

Chris was still talking, words escaping into the heavy air as he kissed and bit his way along Dean's jaw.

"Your brother's a champion cocksucker, kid. Sure Gold in the deep throating Olympics." That mouth obediently opened wider, two of Chris's fingers pushing inside, his thumb stroking across Dean's bottom lip. "Spent all summer finding ways to occupy that mouth, didn't we, Dean?" It was Sam Chris was looking at then, his eyes both seductive and challenging. While Sam had been off playing college boy, this strange hunter from Texas had been pressing his brother down, fucking him into the oblivion Sam knew Dean craved. Sam figured he should feel jealous, angry even.

Instead, he was almost grateful. Sam could count on one finger the number of people his brother had ever spent more than a handful of nights with. By the sounds of things, he could add Chris to that list of one.

Dean squirmed against him, slick skin sliding over Sam's, the friction going right to his cock. He knew that if Dean had more than a handful of days left to live, Sam probably would have never seen this side to his brother. Dean would have vanished for the night, reappearing the next morning with a just-been-laid smirk and the remnants of a twelve-pack. A part of Sam wasn't sure if this was Dean's way of not-so-subtly admitting he was bi or if there was actually something profound his brother was trying to share with him.

You never knew with Dean and Sam wasn't about to gamble everything away by opening his mouth and saying something stupid.

Instead he nipped playfully at Dean's stubbly jaw, grinning when Chris hitched Dean's legs up over Sam's thighs.

"Jesus, Dean," Sam whispered into Dean's hair. All of his brother's weight sat squarely in Sam's lap. Between them both, Dean was pinned. Sam could spread his brother's legs as wide as he wanted, just by pushing his knees apart. Dean was theirs. All theirs. A demon might have claim on his soul, but Chris and Sam had Dean's body, and if Sam had his way, Dean would be marching down to Hell with the scent of both hunters clinging to him.

Sam knew exactly when Chris was ready, and he sucked on Dean's neck, bringing bright colors to the surface of his skin.

"Fucking cocktease," Dean snarled.

"Pussy." Chris grinned, and thrust himself all the way into Dean's ass.

Sam had the weight of both hunters leaning on him. Dean was in his lap, squirming and wriggling and turning the air blue with curses Sam had never heard before. "Fuck me," he snapped, teeth bared as Chris lazily pulled back, only the head of his cock remaining to stretch Dean wide. "I swear to God, fuck me, or I'll shoot you."

Chris winked at Sam. "Next time, can we gag him as well?" Sam's brain was too busy stumbling over the concept of a next time to answer. He didn't have to, because it seemed Chris was better at giving Dean what he wanted than Sam had ever been, and quickly set up a smooth pace of long, deep thrusts.

Each inward stroke pushed Dean further against Sam, until Sam was pretty convinced that Kane was fucking the both of them at once. Dean's skin, sweat soaked and blazing, pressed Sam's cock against his belly. Chris was a fucking cocktease. Sam had a hot, writhing body pressed against him; Dean's curses were spattered with breathy little whimpers that made him want to kick Kane out of the room and fuck his brother until the sun stopped setting at night.

He changed his mind a minute later, when Chris, still balls deep in Dean's ass, snagged the opened bottle of tequila, downed a mouthful, and pressed his lips to Sam's. It was smoother than it should have been, surprise worn thin, and the air too heavy to think as Chris' tongue danced with his.

"Fuck." Dean gasped, pressed tight between them both, his pupils blown black and wide, and his mouth open to suck in as much air as he could.

Chris' lips moved from Sam's, across his jaw and to his neck, before making the jump to Dean's shoulder.

Dean's neck was red, bitten by both of them, and rubbed raw by the grating stubble of two sets of cheeks. Gently, Kane ran his tongue over the sensitive skin, until Dean's gasps of pleasure softened to tiny mewls of contentment.

It was Sam who decided to get things back on track. He was hard enough to shoot at any second, and the longer he had Dean in his lap, the tougher it would be to maintain control. Leaning back against the headboard, he jerked his knees apart sharply, the movement spreading Dean's legs wide, and further impaling him on Chris' dick.

"Fucking hell!" Chris growled, his hips picking up a frantic pace.

Dean whimpered and tried to reach for his cock. Sam peered down over Dean's shoulder and saw how close his brother was. He tightened his grip on Dean's wrists and shook his head. "Not yet, Dean."

Chris came with a bitten off grunt, his hands tight on Dean's hips. He pulled out, and flopped sideways onto the bed, his chest heaving, and his hair damp against his forehead.

Sam didn't waste any time.

Boneless, Dean allowed Sam to mould him into position, his knees spread either side of Chris' thighs, and his trembling arms balancing on Chris' biceps. From there it was easy for Kane to raise his head and kiss Dean with a gentleness that defied the intensity with which they had fucked. It was sweet, touching almost, and Sam found himself looking away, feeling uncomfortably like a voyeur for the first time that night.

The click of the lube cap snapping off caught Dean's attention. He moaned, making breathy little whimpering noises that made Sam hard enough to pound cement. The smirk returned to Chris' lips, and he shuffled down over so slightly, twisting until Dean's face was cradled in the crook of his neck, and Sam had the perfect angle for which to fuck him.

The small motel room was heavy with the scent of sex. Dean reeked of it, and the part of Sam that still lived in caves and had yet to discover fire felt his blood boil at the sight of Dean's upturned ass.

Chris's come leaked lazily from the swollen red hole. Sam pressed his face in close, inhaling his brother's scent and knowing he was marked by another hunter. His fingers pressed red bruises over those Chris had left behind, and Dean yelped when Sam bit once, then twice into each firm ass cheek, leaving his own mark.

Chris grinned, and whispered something to Dean that Sam couldn't hear.

"Spread your legs, Dean." Sam was surprised he could find his voice, and twice as surprised when Dean followed his order without question. His brother's cock was dark and heavy between his legs. When Dean tried to reach for himself, Sam swatted him on the ass, and Chris grabbed his wrists.

"Nuh uh, darlin'. You remember your place now." Chris whispered. He transferred Dean's wrists behind his back, passing them to Sam who pinned them there with one large hand. With his other hand, he carefully eased his thumb and forefinger into Dean's ass, testing the resistance.

"God, Dean," Sam groaned, his fingers sliding in easily.

"Sammy…" Sam wasn't sure if Dean was begging to be fucked, or begging for a respite. When he opened his fingers inside of him, Dean sobbed and spread his legs wide.

Gay sex wasn't exactly something Sam had bucket loads of experience with, but he knew enough of the basics and biology had taught him that if he twisted his fingers and pressed right there…

Dean's cry was lost against Chris' mouth, and it was enough to make Sam speed things up.

He withdrew his fingers, tightening his grip around the wrists trapped in his hand and he used the leverage to pull Dean back as he pushed smoothly inside of him.

Both he and Dean were so close that it didn't take long to bring them over the edge.

Dean was hot and tight, and felt better than Sam had ever expected. He bucked and twisted, as if he knew what every clench of his ass was doing to his brother and planned on prolonging the torture.

Chris kept him quiet, tongues tracing each other even when Sam twisted his hips as he thrust forwards, jerking Dean back by the wrists. Scarred fingers slid though his brother's hair as Chris pressed Dean's face into his neck, and without warning either of them, found the place where Sam's dick spread Dean open, and pushed two fingers inside.

Dean yelled loud enough to startle Sam from his bubble of surprise and they came with a wild spasm of muscles and an exhausted tangle of limbs.

Sam was pretty sure that the world could end right that second, and he really wouldn't have cared. Dean was a warm weight against him. Sated, soft, and so fucking alive that Sam had to kiss him. Every second with Dean was one he was burning onto his soul, and every kiss had to make up for a lifetime of abstinence.

It was Chris who moved first. Chris, who had a handful of years on Sam, and apparently twice his stamina. Lazily, he snatched the bottle of tequila from the side table, and dumped the remains over Dean's back.

"Jesus." Dean gasped, too fucked out to do much more than lay in Sam's arm and let Chris lick away the bitter cocktail. Thick calluses gently palmed his ass, Kane' tongue lapping at his skin, then painting broad lines around a lifetime of scars. Sam could still taste the tequila on Dean's tongue, sharp and bright, and he knew what Chris tasted as well as if it were himself who was making Dean squirm.

By the time Chris had finished, Sam had mapped out Dean's mouth. He'd know Dean's kiss if he was blind and deaf, and he'd never, ever forget it.

"Fuck, darlin'. You looked so fucking good. You should have seen it, Dean. Sammy sure stretched that tight little hole of yours good, didn't he?"

Neither Sam, nor Dean corrected the use of that nickname.

"Such a pretty hole," Kane continued, murmuring the words into Dean's ear, his lips so close to Sam's cheek that he could smell the tequila on Chris's breath. "You like it when I put my fingers in you, dontcha, Dean? Me an' Sammy, stretching you so fucking wide you ain't gonna walk for a week."

"Dun need to walk," Dean gasped petulantly, his body going bowstring tight against Sam. It was impossible to see from this angle, but it was obvious from Dean's reaction that Chris had a finger in his ass.

Maybe two.

"God," Dean moaned desperately, "I can't…Jesus, Kane." Sam's ass clenched in sympathy, but his cock was less inclined to let Dean roll over and sleep. He absently ran soothing hands up and down Dean's trembling torso, his thumbs flicking sensitive nipples as Kane continued to make his brother gasp and squirm.

"Easy, Dean," Sam soothed, light kisses pressed to Dean's cheek.

"Getting soft in your old age," Kane taunted playfully, twisting his fingers until Dean turned the air blue with curses. "Time was when I could make you come all night." His midnight blue eyes fixed on Sam, alight with amusement and memories. "Tell your brother about the motel in Antone, Dean."

"Nugh."

Sam shifted in time to see Kane press four thick fingers into Dean's ass, lube and come letting him slide right in to the knuckles. Dean cursed and buried his head in the sheets, fists white knuckled against Sam's arm.

"Well yeah, you said that a few times. What else? What else did we do?"

"Fucker," Dean hissed, sounding more like the smartass Sam knew than the fucked out man he'd been ten minutes ago.

"That's right." Kane nodded, twisting his fingers in Dean's ass like a corkscrew. "Tell Sammy how we fucked."

If Sam wasn't so blindingly turned on by the whole thing, he might have questioned Kane's motives. As it was, it was too hot to watch Dean willingly submit to Kane's sexual inquisition to really care why the other hunter was doing it.

"He-" Chris dragged his fingers out until only the tips remained inside of Dean, "he tied me down to the bed, fuck, fuck- Chris, please." Kane's smile was both serene and sadistic, his fingers sinking down an inch.

"And…"

"Come on, Dean," Sam encouraged, his own voice rough, kissed out and horse. "Tell me."

Dean's eyes were screwed shut, his lips pulled back into a wide snarl of barely controlled pleasure. "Jesus, fuck."

Chris leaned down to nip at Dean's earlobe, his fingers pushing all the way.

Dean's eyes snapped open at the dual attack, his pupils so blown out that he looked possessed. Sam's breath caught, his fingers reaching for Dean's and entwining together.

Without blinking, he stared down at Sam and said, "he put his hand in my ass." Then as if he was daring Sam to say something, he added, "then we torched the bones of a local preacher."

Christ, Sam thought. It was no wonder his brother walked bowlegged. The hand that had supposedly been up that's ass stroked Dean's flank affectionately, and Chris carefully removed his fingers.

"I'm gonna fuck you again, Dean. I'm gonna put my dick up your ass, and then Sammy is, and we're gonna fuck you so hard you won't know which way is up."

Dean shuddered in Sam's arms, limp like a ragdoll, his blunt nails clawing desperately at Sam's shoulders. "Do you want this, Dean?" Sam asked, needing to be sure before they even attempted to do what Sam privately thought was impossible.

Dean nodded minutely against his shoulder. His eyes were hazy with lust, but strangely calm. "Might as well go out with a bang," he said softly.

In the end, it was Sam who slid into Dean first, easy and smooth, wet and warm. They both moaned, Dean's cheek warm against Sam's shoulder. Chris kissed each side of Dean's neck then Sam's lips before he carefully eased a finger in alongside Sam's dick.

It was obvious that for all their talk, neither Dean, nor Chris was the type to take anything for granted, and Sam knew he'd rather shoot himself than ever hurt Dean. They moved slowly, the edge of desperation no longer so sharp between them. Sam kissed every inch of Dean he could, remembering the taste of each of his freckles and cataloging each one to memory. By the time he'd mapped Dean's shoulders, Chris had both his thumbs inside of Dean, and he nodded once to Sam.

Sam nodded back, tipping Dean's chin to kiss him, slow and deep as Chris carefully worked himself in. There was no hiding Dean's initial discomfort. His moans were soft, lost into Sam's mouth, but he never once made a move to remove himself from either embrace. If anything, he deepened the kiss, gasping against his brother and nipping red lips with his teeth.

Jesusjesusjesus…oh fuck.

If Sam had thought that nothing could feel as good as Dean's ass, tight around him, then he'd never form the words to describe how it felt to be so intimately connected with not one, but two people.

Of the three of them, Sam and Chris were strangers, united only by the man they both shared. Chris's eyes were dark, deadly serious, and for a moment, Sam wondered what it would be like to hunt with him.

The message was clear, and if it weren't for the fact that Dean would never forgive him, Sam nearly blurted out every nasty little secret that made everything they did together bitter-sweet.

Instead he sighed, strangely content as they struggled to find a steady rhythm. Dean came first, too exhausted to do much more than pant when Chris wormed a hand between their bodies and jerked him off with strong, steady twists of his hand.

Sam might have kissed Dean then, but Chris was there first, his lips over Dean's and his arms over Sam's shoulders. Lazily, Sam dug his fingers into the hard muscles of Kane's back. He could barely move himself, but he tugged Chris closer, urging him on as Dean sagged between them, trembling around their cocks.

Chris buried his cry of release against Dean's freckled shoulder, his teeth nipping lightly at the skin there. Nothing could ever have prepared Sam for the sensation of feeling another man's come fill the hole he was fucking, and with a short, sharp thrust of his hip, he came with a hoarse grunt.

*****

It took them a while to catch their breath, lazy kisses exchanged between the three as limbs slowly stopped trembling and pulse rates smoothed out.

Dean was nearly asleep between them, his face smooth and free from tension. He'd done what he'd been begging Sam to let him do, and let go of everything.

As dying men's wishes went, having a threesome with your brother and a hot Texan had to be a pretty unusual request.

Sam's big brother mumbled something utterly indecipherable as Chris gently eased himself from their tangled embrace. Sam's arms were numb, but between them, they managed to haul Dean to a cleaner part of the bed. They desperately needed a shower, the bed looked like it had been shipped in straight from a porn set, and Dean's thighs were sticky with come.

It was Sam who cleaned them up, snagging a towel from the bathroom and mopping away the worst of the mess. Chris smiled up at him, none of his smirk in play, and his eyes oddly gentle as he turned to look down at Dean.

Dean, in true Dean fashion, was out of it, his face buried against Chris' shoulder, soft snores replacing their sounds of passion. Sam rolled his eyes, slightly stunned by the wave of affection that washed over him. He carefully bent down and lay a light kiss on the corner of Dean's up turned lips.

"I'm gonna head out," he said to Chris. "Tell him I'll meet him for breakfast?"

Chris' eyes were dark with understanding. He nodded, but said, "You're welcome to stay, ya know?"

Sam nodded, his throat swelling as he looked down at his brother. "Yeah, I know."

He wanted to say something else, something he might have said if things were different. Look after him, maybe. Or If you hurt him, I'll break both your legs. There was no point, so he said nothing at all.

*****

The Impala shone under one of the overhead streetlamps, a black pearl in a sea of rusty red and blue. Sam climbed into her shotgun.

With the volume turned low, he loaded one of Dean's cassettes, and waited for the sun to rise.

*****

Dean was waiting in the diner, his expression bored as he scanned the menu.

"Chris not joining us?" Sam asked by way of greeting, already knowing the answer.

"Nah." Dean shook his head. "Said something about a Black Dog out west. Figured we could catch up later."

Sam noticed the slip, even if Dean didn't.

They ordered the basics, and ate with the same companionable small talk that had filtered through their whole lives. Dean paid the bill, and Sam checked the messages on his phone.

There was one from a number he didn't recognize.

23, -94

It was the first time he had ever been sent co-ordinates.

"Yo," Dean said, sauntering over to Sam with a hand in his pocket.

"Hey." Sam smiled. "Where you wanna head?"

Dean shrugged. "The fuck if I know, dude."

They headed east for five days, stopping only for gas. On the sixth day, Dean checked them into a motel room. He went out at 10:41, and he never came back.

On the seventh day, Sam looked up the co-ordinates.