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Author's Notes:

No excuses, it's not pleasent. Read at your own risk. Abuse

"Please Sam. Don't" whispered, terrified that their father, laying in the other bed mere feet away, would awaken and discover what they were doing, what Sammy was doing. Dean placed his own hand over his brother's, trying to pull it from inside his briefs, pull it off him, but Sam's large right hand, curled around his prick, just tightened making him hiss his breath then clench his teeth.

He hated when his brother acted like this, when he would ignore Dean, would not basically give a fuck if Dean even wanted to be touched like this, worked like this, fucked like this. There was a quick kiss by his ear as if that would make everything alright.

He twisted around, trying to push Sam off but his hand was grabbed and, using his greater height and advantage, that of having his brother's most sensitive part in his grasp, Sam forced him back onto his side, crowding behind him, pulling Dean's arm over his head.

A leg was forced between his and Dean bit his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes shut and resignedly tried to relax. It would not hurt so much if he did not put up a fight. He lay there, his arm over his face and left hold of Sam's hand as he brought his other up to jam in his mouth as Sam began to 'play' with his prick. That's what he was doing basically. He was not doing it to really to give him pleasure, it was just Sam thinking he should do something for Dean before he fucked him.

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Afterwards, Dean lay there desperate to keep in the sobs that threatened to finally undo him. Desperate not to let Sammy hear. Desperately trying to keep from shaking.

He could never let Sammy know just how badly he hurt him, not just physically but emotionally too. He was torn because, no matter what, he did not want Sam to be hurt by the realization of what he was really doing to his brother. But, if he was truly honest, he did not want Sam to be aware because, he had the awful feeling that it would be worse if he did know. Dean hardly dared believe it but he worried that his brother would get off on it or, worse still, not care.

So Dean kept quiet, kept his peace because he was also desperate for their father not to awaken, not to be aware of Dean's shame. He did not want John Winchester to know that his eldest son was being abused by his fifteen year old brother and had been now for over a year. He did not know which he dreaded more. That John would discover what Sam did to his older brother or that that older brother was powerless to resist, to fight his younger brother off. That he did not, could not, stop him.

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