Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by WB and Eric Kripke et al. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Before Sam went away he had been tactile, after he came back he wasn't and Dean did not understand why.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Soph for the beta. This is 16 out of 31 short fics, all involving masturbation in honour of the Merry Month of May. All fics were written with knowledge up to Hell House, no canon after that was used since that's as far as I've seen.
Word count: 574
Link: to other mmom fic
Sam was always the touchy feely one. Dean had known this since the first time he soothed Sam to sleep by stroking his hair, or calmed Sam after a nightmare with gentle touches, or even the first time Sam had been hurt in a hunt and he had held him as Dad stitched his arm. Sam would always be the one that snuggled up beside him to sleep, the one who would reach out to make contact if they were talking or drag him into a hug if they had been arguing.
Always Sam had sought touch and Dean had felt like a proper big brother when he could reciprocate, that was until Sam had gone off to college. When Sammy had come back to the hunt there had been no brush touches, no brotherly hugs, no attempt to reach out and confirm their connection. Dean did not talk about feelings or girly stuff like that so he had had no way to find out why Sam was so distant. The lack of touch had been far worse than being shot in the chest with rock salt or anything Sam had ever said to him and it had taken a long time for him to find out what was wrong.
In fact it had taken an argument in a bar and half a bottle of cheap whiskey for Dean to discover what was really going on with his baby brother. Dean had picked some random girl and gone off with her after exchanging some terse insults with Sam, but he'd been too worried about the desperate look he'd seen in Sam's eyes to follow through and had gone back to the motel. He'd found Sam sitting on the floor, drunk and crying with what was left of the bottle of whiskey in his hand.
That had been when he found out the truth, when he discovered Sam's big secret. The thing that had been eating Sam up inside had been so simple and so obvious that Dean could never understand now why he had never seen it then. Dean had dragged his distraught brother into his arms as if Sammy was twelve again and had been scared Dean and Dad weren't coming back from a hunt. That had been when Sam had broken down completely and confessed, told Dean everything about how he craved his touch and needed to touch in return; how he had gone off to college and realised what he had left behind; how he had known that if he let himself touch Dean once he would never be able to stop.
Dean had known then that nothing would be normal for them again, not even their brotherly relationship and he had not cared. He had let himself be kissed and had kissed back and he had taken Sammy to bed and soothed him by stroking his hair as his brother fell asleep in his arms. He had never regretted that decision, not the morning after and not now as he writhed under Sam's clever hands and remembered months later. He was the most happy when Sam was touching him or he was touching Sam and one day soon he'd let Sammy fuck him, or maybe he'd fuck Sammy and the touch would be complete. Until then they spoke to each other in sensations in a way they would never talk with their voices and Dean needed nothing more than touch.