SpN:To The Waters And The Wild part 4
10/23/08 10:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: To The Waters And The Wild
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
Pairingseventually Dean/Sam
Rating:NC-17
Word Count:1930
Summary:this poem is a pretty good summary of the story.
Come away O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand
The Stolen Child by W.B. Yeats
On the way back to his apartment, he found himself walking with a short, dark skinned man in a red and black hat who came out of nowhere and smiled a lot and twirled a cane with a white rabbit's head on. Sam kept his eyes straight ahead, as though the sidewalk was the most fascinating damn thing in the world, but couldn't help watching the guy from the corner of his eyes—excellent peripheral vision was sort of a gift and a curse. He caught that the dude was asking something, going on about Sam having lost something, something he'd be happy to help him get back…it was an original spiel this--Sam actually stopped and looked at this guy. He gestured with the hand holding the bakery bag. "Lost something? Really? What have I lost?"
Just saying, I might be able to help you get it back.
"And why? What's in it for you? 'Cause--" he spread his arms wide, bag swinging in his fist and coffee sloshing in the cup, "--isn't this kind of what you wanted?"
The little man laughed. Oh, not me Samuel. I'm just offering some help. Thought I heard you asking.
"You know what? You were wrong, okay? I'm done with asking—I did all the asking I could stomach. There's nothing anyone can do, so please--leave me alone. I wish you *all* would just leave me alone."
Really? Are you sure you truly want that? Deep inside, with all of you, you want us to go? Take away any kind of chance you might have had to get your brother back?
"We both know what it would take to get him back, and no. I'm not doing that. I *have* to believe that Dean would rather…I know Dean wouldn't want that. I *know* it."
The little man chuckled. I see you tryin' hard to believe that. Okay. I like you Samuel; you're a pretty good boy. I'll give you one chance for happiness. The little man imitated Sam, threw his arms wide and smiled magnanimously. Free of charge.
Sam looked at him, lips pressed tight; eyes narrowed and let the thought tick over in his head that he was fucking damn tired of being the universe's chew toy. "One cha--what the fuck does that mean? What're you, my fairy godfather?"
The little man laughed. Hey, fairies are no joke man. I told you, I like you.
They were in front of his apartment building now and Sam was startled that he'd made it home without noticing…he trotted up the stoop and was fumbling for his door keys when he thought of something and turned to snap at the little man and he was gone.
Of course.
Swear to God he wished these fuckers would leave him the hell alone. He gulped coffee that wasn't quite hot enough anymore, kicked the door shut behind him and tossed his keys at the kitchen table. Dropped down onto the couch that was a little too low to be really comfortable for him and methodically chewed his way through a sweet roll he didn’t even actually like that much, just…felt he should want it. He was sucking sticky sugar off his fingers when the wave of yearning hit him like it always did. He closed his eyes and rode it out and was thankful time had softened it from a mule kick straight to the heart to a rolling mutter of unease under his ribcage. Dean.
He hated moments like that. It helped to imagine Dean leaning over the couch and smacking the back of his head--accusing him of being a big girl. dude, you *are* a big fuckin' girl—no, I mean big fugly girl. Suck it up, bitch.
He ran a shower, and washed with a lilac soap that was the only thing that helped to squelch the smell that clung to his skin and hair even hours after being at some scenes. He wrapped himself in a towel, and brushed even the faintest taste of sweet roll out of his mouth. He lay down on the bed, and thankfully began to drift off, felt also the tiniest bit of satisfaction that he hadn't needed to…think of Dean to fall asleep….
'Hey. Hey, stop making me do all the work, hunh—spread your legs willya?'
Wide strong hands stroked down his back, fingers nudged at his hole, rolled over it and he surged up and shook. 'Stop playing around, jerk, come on—do it.'
'Oh yeah?' and a finger tip slid into him and he cried out it felt so good, 'that's more like it, more of that'.…
The alarm went off with a yowl, and Sam smacked it quiet. He blinked, and stretched, feeling pretty good. Must be his body's way of telling him hey, even Winchesters have to sleep some time. He didn't wake up grinning that often--must have had a pretty good dream.
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
Sam swept folders aside and cleared a little space on the desk. He'd been on the phone pretty much all day long and he was beat. He sighed, and dropped his head onto his arms. He ignored Dana's look, concentrated on breathing evenly and not…screaming into the wood grained Formica.
God, he needed to get out. The routine--work, sleep, work, sleep…fuck. It was almost as bad as the three months he was never ever going to forget. He was turning into a Sambot without even trying, just…minus the hospital corners. Maybe he should…what the hell. What he needed was to get laid, pure and simple. Casual sex, that's what he needed. He snorted against his desktop and papers fluttered. Since when was sex ever casual for him?
"Is the boss dead, Miss Dana? Did you kill him?" Raphael leaned over him and lifted an eyelid. "Hey. You still in there? 'cause I'll let Gay Danny tap your dead ass if you aren't."
"Oh my God, shut the fuck up."
Sam laughed out loud at the outrage in Danny's voice. He shook Raph off of him and lifted his head. "Could you at least try to respect my personal space? Even if I'm dead, okay?" He looked over at Danny. "I apologize for this terrible person."
Danny blushed bright red and tossed the folder he held on Dana's desk. "It's okay—he can't help it if he's a giant homophobic jerk." Danny grabbed his jacket and left.
"Did you just make my most valuable employee leave in a snit?"
Raph plopped down in a chair and fished around in the bowl of M&Ms on Sam's desk, pulled out a massive handful. "Heck no, I'm sitting right here." He munched on them grinning and said, "He's got a big ass crush on you, you know. It's kinda cute. Hey Boss." Raph looked at him critically. "You know what; you need to get laid—"
"Oh my God—"
"I'm just trying to look out for you, you know? I can see it, I recognize the look. Not that I know what that feels like myself but…anyway, who's going to look out for you if I don't? Miss Dana don’t love you, she just wants your money." He popped another few dozen pieces in his mouth and chewed reflectively. "That does kind of make her your office wife, hunh?"
"Can’t you fire him?" she asked. "Please."
"Nah—he can't, I know where the bodies are buried." Raph got up from his perch on Sam's desk and winked. "See everybody bright and early since Scrooge Face say we gotta work Saturday. Donuts his treat. Remember what I said," he directed at Sam.
"Okay, okay…" Sam shook his head--it was weird. Aside from being short, dark, and built a little like a fireplug, Raph reminded him so much of Dean…and did he really say that Danny had a crush on him? "Oh crap…."
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
The club was packed, and big crowds in small places still made him uneasy—no room to draw comfortably. He slipped through gyrating bodies, automatically scoping the exits, scanning faces, feeling for impressions, the way he'd been trained to…at least he'd stopped muttering Latin aloud—surprisingly, it tended to put guys off. He rolled his shoulders and tried to look a little less obsessed psycho-killer and a little more young businessman-friendly. He pushed his way towards the bar—he'd need to get pretty much shit faced for that to work for him….
Music pounded against him almost like a physical thing, vibrated under his skin and moved his hips, and currently his hips were firmly pressed against a nice ass. He shook wet hair back from his eyes and moved to the beat, laughed softly when the guy plastered against his chest groaned. Sam swept his hands up the guy's waist, pressed them against his chest. Pinched nipples—hard. He got a gasp in response, a grind against his overheated dick. He dropped his head and whispered into the shaggy hair, "Let's move," licked a stripe across a salty wet cheek…
In the alley, he groaned and shivered as quick hands undid his belt, unzipped him, and the guy kissed his way down the bulge of cotton covered dick. A cool tongue twisted over his hot, hot skin, leaving slick trails against his belly. His head dropped back against the wall and he ignored the quick burst of pain…the tongue moved slowly lower, lower until Sam growled, shoved thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down. "Stop fucking around and suck me damn it. Please." He could feel little bursts of cool air skate over his skin as the other snickered and then took pity on him--Sam hissed, feeling the hot wet plunge on him, every muscle fluttered and he spread his legs wide as he could. Warm fingers stroked his balls, squeezed lightly before going back, up, and a finger danced around his hole. "Good, yeah," He wasn't thinking about anything but this. This was all he needed. A willing mouth sucking him, a hot tongue sliding around him, nothing else…not Dean. Not Dean at all, not touching him, laughing into his neck, wrapping his broad strong hand around his twitching dick, and tugging. Fucking his mouth, gasping against the wet skin of his throat, hitching Sam's legs around his hips and plunging in—"Unh!"
He pushed the guy off. "Wait." He turned and put his hands against the gritty wall, keeping them high over his head. He rasped, "If you haven't got one, there's one in my pocket."
His legs were spread far as he could, and then he felt the blunt hot nudge, a slick slide and push over his hole that made him bend and moan, a nudge, a gasp and his stomach jumped and fluttered when the head popped in…a steady slide in that made his gut clench, burning, stretching, and almost shockingly quick, morphing into pleasure, a deep burn that turned to a flood of heat, and then…
"Aaah…" His head dropped between his outstretched arms and his mouth was open wide in a silent scream—he felt every bit of that dick slide in, out, and hot hands gripped his hips hard the way he liked. He pushed back, faster, harder, sparks blew through him, though his gut...he could tell the guy was on edge and now he was grinding, trying to shove everything he could inside of him. "Fuck. Fuck…" he reached between his legs and jerked off hard and fast, when he came it hit him like a bomb—
part 5
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
Pairingseventually Dean/Sam
Rating:NC-17
Word Count:1930
Summary:this poem is a pretty good summary of the story.
Come away O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand
The Stolen Child by W.B. Yeats
On the way back to his apartment, he found himself walking with a short, dark skinned man in a red and black hat who came out of nowhere and smiled a lot and twirled a cane with a white rabbit's head on. Sam kept his eyes straight ahead, as though the sidewalk was the most fascinating damn thing in the world, but couldn't help watching the guy from the corner of his eyes—excellent peripheral vision was sort of a gift and a curse. He caught that the dude was asking something, going on about Sam having lost something, something he'd be happy to help him get back…it was an original spiel this--Sam actually stopped and looked at this guy. He gestured with the hand holding the bakery bag. "Lost something? Really? What have I lost?"
Just saying, I might be able to help you get it back.
"And why? What's in it for you? 'Cause--" he spread his arms wide, bag swinging in his fist and coffee sloshing in the cup, "--isn't this kind of what you wanted?"
The little man laughed. Oh, not me Samuel. I'm just offering some help. Thought I heard you asking.
"You know what? You were wrong, okay? I'm done with asking—I did all the asking I could stomach. There's nothing anyone can do, so please--leave me alone. I wish you *all* would just leave me alone."
Really? Are you sure you truly want that? Deep inside, with all of you, you want us to go? Take away any kind of chance you might have had to get your brother back?
"We both know what it would take to get him back, and no. I'm not doing that. I *have* to believe that Dean would rather…I know Dean wouldn't want that. I *know* it."
The little man chuckled. I see you tryin' hard to believe that. Okay. I like you Samuel; you're a pretty good boy. I'll give you one chance for happiness. The little man imitated Sam, threw his arms wide and smiled magnanimously. Free of charge.
Sam looked at him, lips pressed tight; eyes narrowed and let the thought tick over in his head that he was fucking damn tired of being the universe's chew toy. "One cha--what the fuck does that mean? What're you, my fairy godfather?"
The little man laughed. Hey, fairies are no joke man. I told you, I like you.
They were in front of his apartment building now and Sam was startled that he'd made it home without noticing…he trotted up the stoop and was fumbling for his door keys when he thought of something and turned to snap at the little man and he was gone.
Of course.
Swear to God he wished these fuckers would leave him the hell alone. He gulped coffee that wasn't quite hot enough anymore, kicked the door shut behind him and tossed his keys at the kitchen table. Dropped down onto the couch that was a little too low to be really comfortable for him and methodically chewed his way through a sweet roll he didn’t even actually like that much, just…felt he should want it. He was sucking sticky sugar off his fingers when the wave of yearning hit him like it always did. He closed his eyes and rode it out and was thankful time had softened it from a mule kick straight to the heart to a rolling mutter of unease under his ribcage. Dean.
He hated moments like that. It helped to imagine Dean leaning over the couch and smacking the back of his head--accusing him of being a big girl. dude, you *are* a big fuckin' girl—no, I mean big fugly girl. Suck it up, bitch.
He ran a shower, and washed with a lilac soap that was the only thing that helped to squelch the smell that clung to his skin and hair even hours after being at some scenes. He wrapped himself in a towel, and brushed even the faintest taste of sweet roll out of his mouth. He lay down on the bed, and thankfully began to drift off, felt also the tiniest bit of satisfaction that he hadn't needed to…think of Dean to fall asleep….
'Hey. Hey, stop making me do all the work, hunh—spread your legs willya?'
Wide strong hands stroked down his back, fingers nudged at his hole, rolled over it and he surged up and shook. 'Stop playing around, jerk, come on—do it.'
'Oh yeah?' and a finger tip slid into him and he cried out it felt so good, 'that's more like it, more of that'.…
The alarm went off with a yowl, and Sam smacked it quiet. He blinked, and stretched, feeling pretty good. Must be his body's way of telling him hey, even Winchesters have to sleep some time. He didn't wake up grinning that often--must have had a pretty good dream.
Sam swept folders aside and cleared a little space on the desk. He'd been on the phone pretty much all day long and he was beat. He sighed, and dropped his head onto his arms. He ignored Dana's look, concentrated on breathing evenly and not…screaming into the wood grained Formica.
God, he needed to get out. The routine--work, sleep, work, sleep…fuck. It was almost as bad as the three months he was never ever going to forget. He was turning into a Sambot without even trying, just…minus the hospital corners. Maybe he should…what the hell. What he needed was to get laid, pure and simple. Casual sex, that's what he needed. He snorted against his desktop and papers fluttered. Since when was sex ever casual for him?
"Is the boss dead, Miss Dana? Did you kill him?" Raphael leaned over him and lifted an eyelid. "Hey. You still in there? 'cause I'll let Gay Danny tap your dead ass if you aren't."
"Oh my God, shut the fuck up."
Sam laughed out loud at the outrage in Danny's voice. He shook Raph off of him and lifted his head. "Could you at least try to respect my personal space? Even if I'm dead, okay?" He looked over at Danny. "I apologize for this terrible person."
Danny blushed bright red and tossed the folder he held on Dana's desk. "It's okay—he can't help it if he's a giant homophobic jerk." Danny grabbed his jacket and left.
"Did you just make my most valuable employee leave in a snit?"
Raph plopped down in a chair and fished around in the bowl of M&Ms on Sam's desk, pulled out a massive handful. "Heck no, I'm sitting right here." He munched on them grinning and said, "He's got a big ass crush on you, you know. It's kinda cute. Hey Boss." Raph looked at him critically. "You know what; you need to get laid—"
"Oh my God—"
"I'm just trying to look out for you, you know? I can see it, I recognize the look. Not that I know what that feels like myself but…anyway, who's going to look out for you if I don't? Miss Dana don’t love you, she just wants your money." He popped another few dozen pieces in his mouth and chewed reflectively. "That does kind of make her your office wife, hunh?"
"Can’t you fire him?" she asked. "Please."
"Nah—he can't, I know where the bodies are buried." Raph got up from his perch on Sam's desk and winked. "See everybody bright and early since Scrooge Face say we gotta work Saturday. Donuts his treat. Remember what I said," he directed at Sam.
"Okay, okay…" Sam shook his head--it was weird. Aside from being short, dark, and built a little like a fireplug, Raph reminded him so much of Dean…and did he really say that Danny had a crush on him? "Oh crap…."
The club was packed, and big crowds in small places still made him uneasy—no room to draw comfortably. He slipped through gyrating bodies, automatically scoping the exits, scanning faces, feeling for impressions, the way he'd been trained to…at least he'd stopped muttering Latin aloud—surprisingly, it tended to put guys off. He rolled his shoulders and tried to look a little less obsessed psycho-killer and a little more young businessman-friendly. He pushed his way towards the bar—he'd need to get pretty much shit faced for that to work for him….
Music pounded against him almost like a physical thing, vibrated under his skin and moved his hips, and currently his hips were firmly pressed against a nice ass. He shook wet hair back from his eyes and moved to the beat, laughed softly when the guy plastered against his chest groaned. Sam swept his hands up the guy's waist, pressed them against his chest. Pinched nipples—hard. He got a gasp in response, a grind against his overheated dick. He dropped his head and whispered into the shaggy hair, "Let's move," licked a stripe across a salty wet cheek…
In the alley, he groaned and shivered as quick hands undid his belt, unzipped him, and the guy kissed his way down the bulge of cotton covered dick. A cool tongue twisted over his hot, hot skin, leaving slick trails against his belly. His head dropped back against the wall and he ignored the quick burst of pain…the tongue moved slowly lower, lower until Sam growled, shoved thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down. "Stop fucking around and suck me damn it. Please." He could feel little bursts of cool air skate over his skin as the other snickered and then took pity on him--Sam hissed, feeling the hot wet plunge on him, every muscle fluttered and he spread his legs wide as he could. Warm fingers stroked his balls, squeezed lightly before going back, up, and a finger danced around his hole. "Good, yeah," He wasn't thinking about anything but this. This was all he needed. A willing mouth sucking him, a hot tongue sliding around him, nothing else…not Dean. Not Dean at all, not touching him, laughing into his neck, wrapping his broad strong hand around his twitching dick, and tugging. Fucking his mouth, gasping against the wet skin of his throat, hitching Sam's legs around his hips and plunging in—"Unh!"
He pushed the guy off. "Wait." He turned and put his hands against the gritty wall, keeping them high over his head. He rasped, "If you haven't got one, there's one in my pocket."
His legs were spread far as he could, and then he felt the blunt hot nudge, a slick slide and push over his hole that made him bend and moan, a nudge, a gasp and his stomach jumped and fluttered when the head popped in…a steady slide in that made his gut clench, burning, stretching, and almost shockingly quick, morphing into pleasure, a deep burn that turned to a flood of heat, and then…
"Aaah…" His head dropped between his outstretched arms and his mouth was open wide in a silent scream—he felt every bit of that dick slide in, out, and hot hands gripped his hips hard the way he liked. He pushed back, faster, harder, sparks blew through him, though his gut...he could tell the guy was on edge and now he was grinding, trying to shove everything he could inside of him. "Fuck. Fuck…" he reached between his legs and jerked off hard and fast, when he came it hit him like a bomb—
part 5
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
10/24/08 03:16 am (UTC)*wink*
(no subject)
10/24/08 03:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
10/24/08 03:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
10/24/08 03:47 am (UTC)ewewewew!!!!!
(no subject)
10/24/08 03:18 am (UTC)The End!
(no subject)
10/24/08 03:25 am (UTC)Thank yew!
(no subject)
10/24/08 04:34 am (UTC)*sniffle*
He closed his eyes and rode it out and was thankful time had softened it from a mule kick straight to the heart to a rolling mutter of unease under his ribcage. Dean.
Love it.
And then you give us angsty, dirty alley-sex.
Whoooot!
(no subject)
10/24/08 02:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/8/09 10:03 pm (UTC)I like this Sam. I like his friends. They rock. :)
(no subject)
5/20/09 04:44 am (UTC)