Loss and Gain

Evan turned his head at the call of his name, his older brother coming into view, the buttons on his flannel shirt threatening to pop if he so much as flexed. He was staring at him, his lips set in a line that said he was about to be chewed out. For what, Evan didn't know. But the bunch of Dean's arms as he crossed them over his chest and squared his shoulders told him whatever it was couldn't be shrugged off no matter how charming Evan was when he needed to be.

"Look, Ev, I love having you here and all, even if you're a complete pain in my ass two thirds of the time, but don't you think it's time you got a job? You've been sitting on your sorry ass for what feels like half a fucking year, and I'm sick of seeing your ass print every time I walk past my couch."

"My ass and the couch share a special bond. We've really connected since I've been here," Evan replied cheekily, swallowing when all his charm was met with was a steely glare. "I can't use humor to get out of this one, can I?"

Dean sighed, shoulders deflating a little as he softened his composure.

"I'm afraid not, Ev. Like I said, I love having you here. It's been nice knowing I'm coming home to someone, since... Y'know... But you need to start pulling your weight because you don't just sit there watching TV all day and jacking off. You also eat the contents of my refrigerator."

"On my honor as a scout, I have not once jacked off on your couch."

Dean lifted a brow as if to say seriously?

"One, you were never in the scouts. Two, I've heard you beating your meat more times than an older brother probably should when we're not sharing a room anymore, so stow the crap."

Evan had the decency to rub the back of his neck, firmly chastised.

"Okay, yeah. Sorry, De. I'll look for a job, I promise. As much as it may seem like it, my intention is not to take advantage of your kindness."

Considering that, Dean let his composure shift to relaxed and satisfied, joining Evan on the couch and clapping him on the knee.

"Good. You start tomorrow," he stated, grinning from ear to ear.

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow... where?"

Dean smirked at him, threw his arm around his head and pulled him into his chest, squeezing him as he ruffled his hair.

"You're gonna come and work for your dear older brother, you little shit."

The words flowed into his ears, not made easy by the suffocating hold on his neck, but he heard them. Registered them. Chewed on them for a bit mentally, embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he drew blanks on what it was that his brother did for a living.

Once Dean let him go, Evan cleared his throat, asked him the vital question.

A shot of offense passed through Dean's eyes, but he let it taper off on the next breath, shoving Evan to the end of the couch.

"Every day, I walk in in my coveralls, and you have no clue what I do for a living?"

"Oh. Right. Mechanic."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Bingo. So make sure you get an early night. I want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for your first day."

"I don't know the first thing about being a mechanic," Evan confessed, his brother not deterred by his lack of confidence. "But I guess you learned on the job, too?"

"That's right, I did," Dean confirmed, standing back up and stretching out his arms. He didn't notice Evan's wandering eyes catching the strips of skin revealed by the rising of his shirt, thank fuck. "I'm sure you'll pick it up soon enough." He bent over then, picking up the remote that found its way to the carpet earlier, Evan neglecting to retrieve it. Dean's jeans stretched over his ass in such a way that nothing was left to chance, and Evan internally berated himself for not resisting the temptation to ogle. "Another thing, little brother. If you don't pick up after yourself, I will stop feeding you," he warned, turning to throw the remote directly at his crotch, smirking when he bucked and cradled his junk. "Serves your lazy ass right."

"Didn't we make a pact that there would be no more crotch shots?" Evan swallowed after he finished speaking, eyes squeezing shut as he breathed in deep to quell the ache of his balls. "I'm pretty sure that hasn't suddenly been voided."

Dean pursed his lips, thick and full, a prominent feature in Evan's private fantasies.

"It's not like you're planning to knock anyone up anytime soon," Dean defended, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes "Want me to rub them all better for you?" He teased, speaking to him as if he were an infant with a boo-boo on his sore knee. "Big brother make it all better?"

"Fuck off," Evan clipped, unamused. "You're not funny." 

"I disagree. I think I'm hilarious." Dean walked out of the living room, entering the kitchen. Evan heard rummaging in the fridge, and Dean returned with the necks of two beer bottles held between his thick fingers. He bent down and pressed the side of one to Evan's crotch, then released it. "There. Hold that against 'em for a minute or two."

Evan grunted his thanks, soothed by the cool chill. It was not enough to deter the twitch of his cock from having Dean that close to touching him, however.

They both nursed their beers. Evan couldn't speak to what Dean was thinking about, but his mind was elsewhere. Thoughts of growing up lingered. The discovery of his sexuality, awakened primarily by witnessing the fully developed muscles of Dean's body, his soft cock lying on his thigh, exposed by the sheets that had crawled down his form throughout the night. Dean turning onto his side or stomach, revealing his meaty ass to Evan's ravenous eyes, wanting to taste every part of him.

He remembered how he used to lie awake, hand stroking his cock under the sheets as he watched and wondered what Dean's cock would taste like, how hard it would get in his mouth. How it would feel to bury his face between Dean's ass cheeks, or spread the mounds of his own volition and inhale the musk of man. Evan was guilty of fishing Dean's worn underwear out of the hamper, thrilled that he believed that turning them inside out meant they were fresh. He would bury his nose in them, smell his cock and ass sweat, lathe his tongue over the material and suck as much of the raw presence of his older brother that he could from the fibers. Thrusting into his fist, imagining stretching out Dean's plush lips.

He'd picture bottoming out in the wet suction of his throat, Dean's hands on his ass encouraging him to push deeper, to thrust harder, to nail his throat until it was good and sore, raw from use. Evan even dared to take his fantasies to the next level, seeing the tip of his cock kissing the crease of Dean's slicked hole, waiting for him to fill him up, head turned to prompt him to stick his dick in him already.

Evan got off on that, imagining his older brother, so big and strong and masculine, pulling his ass cheeks apart, presenting his twitching pucker to Evan's approving eyes, a clear demand in his voice as he snapped at him to fuck him, hard. He thought about Dean egging him on every step of the way, thrusting his meaty ass back, teasing him for going soft on him, acting as if it was nothing even if Evan's hips were meeting his ass so hard and fast that his flesh was like a constant rippling wave.

He fantasised about Dean on top of him, hands on his shoulders, shoving him back into the couch as he road him with no rhyme or reason, taking his pleasure, sliding his hole down his length like he owned every inch of it, not stopping even after Evan came deep inside him.

Some fantasies were more frequent. Such as the one where Dean was jerking his cock with his legs spread, not stopping when Evan entered the room. Dean would beckon him over, and Evan would be a slave to his call, dropping to his knees, tasting the pre-come oozing out of Dean's slit as he slapped the tip against his bottom lip. Dean would force his cock down Evan's throat, holding him there until he could barely breathe. And then he would pull his lips off him, push him back, hike his knees up, spread them apart and tease his hole until he wanted Evan to suck on his rim and shove his tongue up inside him.

Depending on Evan's mood, his fantasies about Dean differed. Sometimes he couldn't help thinking about taking him apart, giving it to him so good that he lost the ability to speak, reduced to nothing but low moans, lip bites, flesh-squeezes and eye rolls. Or Dean on his knees for him, staring up at him with wanton hunger in his hazel eyes, tongue lolling out for the bead of pre-come getting ready to drip onto his waiting tongue. His older brother on all fours on their bed, face down, ass up, silently asking for Evan to feast on his hole until he's nice and sloppy.

But more often than not, it was with a level of reverence. Those other fantasies were reserved for when Dean was being a total asshole and Even needed to blow off some steam.

There was something undeniably sinful about the thought of Dean hosting him up onto the kitchen island, salivating, eager to get Evan's cock in his mouth. Evan wasn't sure how he would even survive Dean tearing his bottoms off, pinning his hips in place as he inhaled his cock in one pull, moaning at the taste, like he couldn't wait a second longer to bathe him in the warmth of his throat. He didn't believe he would last long in that scenario, probably far too keyed up from the rampant hunger in Dean's movements, draining Evan's balls with his full lips .

Every once in a while, he thought about Dean pushing into him, crushing him into the mattress, feeling the entire weight of him on top as he filled him again and again. It didn't turn him on in the same way as the reverse, but he knew that he would open himself to Dean if that was what he wanted without hesitation.

"Ev," Dean called, loudly, snapping Evan out of his thoughts. "Go take care of that in your bedroom. I'm watching T.V. for once."

To Evan's horror, he didn't even have to look down to know what Dean was talking about because he could feel himself twitching against the room-temp bottle resting on his groin.

"Hey, man, I haven't had sex in months," Evan joked, grabbing a pillow to spare his brother. "All it takes is a gentle breeze to raise the sail right now."

"What do you expect me to do about it?" Evan wrestled to keep his mind from fogging over. "I haven't had sex since my--" Dean looked away then, shook his head. "I haven't had sex in a long time, is what I'm saying."

Evan longed to reach out and smooth out the tension in his shoulders, but they weren't that kind of family.

"I'm sorry, D--"

"Don't," Dean warned. "I don't wanna hear it. "

He got up off the couch, started towards the stairs.

"I thought you were gonna watch T.V.?"

Dean paused at the foot of the steps, head lowered.

"She's all yours," he said, voice tight and disappeared out of sight.

Evan's eyes were drawn to the the mantel piece, a framed photo of Dean and his deceased wife Carla looking back at him. It was clear to him that Dean was haunted by the memory of her, perhaps thinking that it was inappropriate for him to even suggest the idea of having sex with another person when her face was right there, watching him.

Some day, Evan would have to convince Dean that Carla wouldn't have wanted for him to suffer in silence, that she would have wanted him to move on with his life, be happy, find someone else that made him feel the way that she did.

But that day was not then.

That day was the day that Evan made a promise to himself to do everything in his power to make his older brother happy, because even though Dean ragged on him constantly and went out of his way regularly to make Evan's life a living Hell, he was also the first person to offer him a place to stay when he hit a rough spot in his life. The first person to visit him at the hospital when he had his car accident. The first person to accept him when he came out as gay to the family. The first person to teach him what the meaning of love was.

Evan felt that it was about damn time that he returned the favour.

TBC

(What do you think of Evan and Dean? Let me know in the comments, or email me. I'm always happy to hear from you!

--ETS)