To The Waters And The Wild part 19
5/20/09 12:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle:To The Waters And The Wild
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
PairingsDean/Sam
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 3219
Morning was different. It was…it was weird, and uncomfortable. They kept looking at each other, but tried not to make eye-contact. Dean made coffee and Sam made pancakes and shied away every time Dean came near, until finally Dean said, "This is really awkward for you, hunh?"
Sam whipped around to stare at him. "For…me? For me?" Sam was stiff with disbelief. For me? He couldn't make his brain move forward. How could Dean even imagine that it could possibly be otherwise? This was—beyond the realm of awkward, this was truly, *insanely*, fucked up. And still, his gut ached when an image of the night before suddenly flashed in his mind. Dean grabbed his wrist, forcing Sam into meeting his eyes.
"Sam…who else? No one else knows what we know. No one else knows me like you do. After every fucking thing we've done and seen, you're going to tell me that what we did last night—that this is *worse*? I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks, neither should you." Dean glared at Sam. "We *deserve* this, damn, it. I deserve you. Don't we fucking deserve *something* good?"
"Deserve—? Dean. This isn't—normal—"
"Normal? When the fuck have we ever been *close* to normal?" Sam watched Dean move around the kitchen, snatching cups out of the cabinet as he talked, tossing spoons into them, splashing tar-black coffee into them… tried not to see Dean's body. Tried really hard not to remember what it felt like….
Dean had a point. And really, no one else was as close to him. He knew Dean like he knew no one else on the planet. He'd gone right into hell to bring him back—Dean had gone into hell to save Sam's life. One other person might have done that and being with Sam had killed her. Nothing was going to kill Dean. He was too hard, too strong. And he was telling Sam that he was Sam's alone. Dean slammed a cup down in front of him and walked away.
Sam took it, avoiding the steaming puddle it sat in, and sipped at the too hot, too strong brew—thick and bitter, the way Dean liked it. He put the cup down. "Okay. You're right."
"Wha—I mean, hell yeah, I am. Besides you've been wanting to fuck me since you hit puberty,"
"Bastard! That's so not true!"
Dean smirked and tossed a couple of pancakes on his plate. "Pretty sure it is. Eat, you're going to need to keep your strength up." He waggled eyebrows and Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was back with a vengeance. A completely non-pc and totally Dean-like vengeance.
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
The town was small, and the people there expressed no interest whatsoever in the outsiders, beyond polite inquires of where they were from and were they finding things okay and Sam could completely appreciate why Bobby's friend chose this area for his safe house. They'd loaded up with what they'd need for the next couple of days, plus extra staples to replace what they'd use.
It was noon before they were done, and Sam suddenly had the thought maybe they should buy lunch instead of making it, and the more he thought about it, the better an idea it became, until he was actually feeling a little antsy about feeding Dean, who smirked and took it as his due. He parked in front of a little mom-and-pop style deli that seemed odd to find in the small town—more big-city than backwoods.
He got out of the car, and the smell drifting out through the screened doorway made his nose twitch and his stomach growl. Dean gave him a lazy smile, and snuggled closer to the car door. He looked content, eyes drooping. "Bring me pie, bitch," he grumbled sleepily, and Sam laughed.
"Rii-iight, 'cause you're so full of charm," he grinned and Dean smirked back.
"Damn right."
Sam trotted across the little lot in front of the deli, heart soaring. Dean had called him 'Bitch'…and realizing that he was so thrilled his brother had insulted him made him laugh out loud. He stepped into the aromatic little shop, thinking about roast beef and thin sliced Swiss, and maybe he'd luck out and there'd be real vanilla coke, the kind made with syrup, yeah--a hero and a slice of pie for Dean--and Sam groaned. Damn it.
The hair all over his body rose and energy skated over his skin. His mouth went dry and his dick twitched, tried to fill. The woman behind the formica topped counter was gorgeous, unbelievably beautiful, red hair, full lips and deep blue eyes, almost navy really, and not even close to human.
"Hello beautiful," she said. She was leaning elbows on the counter, chin supported by long white hands, and her red nails looked like splashes of blood against her matte pale skin. Blonde hair piled high in loose curls framed her face in a style that had been fashionable years ago, makeup and clothes were from the same time period and it didn't make her look one bit less like living, breathing, sex. Her voice was like smoke, it wrapped around him, slid into his skin and worked its way right down to his crotch. He shifted uncomfortably--fuck, he had a hard-on straining against his pant leg.
"Stop it."
Black, black lashes fluttered and her candy pink lips pouted seductively. He felt himself lean forward a little, staring at them…"Whatever do you mean, sugar?" she asked, all hurt innocence….
Sam grit his teeth and pulled back. Her eyes were navy. He concentrated, filled his mind with the image of green eyes, thick lashes, a mouth whose shape and color rivaled hers and had a pull on him that helped Sam to ignore what she was doing to him, give him the strength to pull away. "I can see you, the real you," he ground out. "You know I can."
"Oh well, you can't blame a girl for trying." She smiled, and Sam ground his teeth hard together, thought 'Green eyes, green eyes'…
"I'm told that you received your heart's desire. I could have helped you with that—it's practically my business. All you had to do was ask." She sighed, a sound just full of disappointment and Sam's heart ached miserably for making her feel that way—he snapped his head back and forth to clear it.
She grinned briefly, lifted an eyebrow in a kind of shrug before continuing, "Samuel, you know what tricksters are like, you know they push and prod and watch the dominoes fall. That's their holy burden, their purpose. Not saying sometimes they don’t hand you something—it's the empty hand you have to worry about, sweet-cakes."
Sam huffed. Of course he knew that. He knew all tricksters in all cultures operated basically the same way. He wasn't naïve enough to think Esu operated differently. She shifted, parts shimmied and Sam ground his teeth as he *had* to watch.
"Honey-pie, you've taken the bait out of a trap un-sprung—yet. If I were you, I'd look behind the doors I open." She leaned against the counter again, flesh swelled and pinked and Sam breathed noisily though his nose and adjusted himself. "I'm curious to see what comes of such all-consuming, self-sacrificing love. I'm not really sure if even I approve. Any way, I *like* you, sugar-plum, and I'm going to do you a favor." She stood straighter, and her aspect changed, so much that Sam had to close his eyes. He heard her say—felt more than heard—" All that is yours belongs to you, that which is yours, you belong to equally. Inside, outside, by your side and cannot be divided." She brushed her hands, smiled, and was again the blowsy, slightly over-ripe blonde again. "There. That will make it a titch easier for him."
Sam blinked. She'd said something, implied something. He'd had the feeling—had *known* that getting Dean back the way he did was going to come with a price, no matter what Esu had said. Sam blinked again, and inhaled. Right. In the mean time, his brother was waiting…"Um, thanks for the…thanks. Can I…I wanted to…buy something...?"
"Well 'course, honey-cakes, that's what we're here for," she smiled. "Girl's gotta make a living."
Sam ordered a roast beef and Swiss on wheat and a tuna hero, and felt…beyond bizarre. He was ordering lunch from a goddess. Dean was right. Normal was not where they lived, not even close. Sam took a deep breath, and stared at the floor, working hard on shutting out Venus or whatever name she took in this aspect. He did math and sang nursery rhymes in his head until he felt a wave of vertigo--
He looked up again when a bag waved in his range of eyesight. It wasn't her; it was a boy, a really beautiful boy. The feeling he got from him wasn't quite as strong from *her*, but it was there. He stared at the boy's mouth and shivered.
The boy poked a paper wrapped sandwich in his direction, before slipping it into the bag with the rest. "Mother made the tuna especially for your brother. Mother says make sure your brother eats all of this. It's got some dill, and thyme, some rosemary and…other good stuff in it. Make sure he eats every bit, even if he doesn't want to." He smiled and Sam blinked, released. He was pretty damn certain he hadn't mentioned his brother…though why he was surprised….
Sam handed him the money and the boy stroked his hand, from his palm to the tips of his fingers and Sam groaned a little. Still hard, painfully hard.
"Thank—thank you. Tell your mother I thank her for her kindness."
He smiled at Sam and his eyes flashed bright, bright blue. "I will. Come…visit us again. And next time, make sure you bring your brother inside."
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
He stood on the deli's wooden porch for a moment, breathing heavily. He held the bag tight in his hand…the feeling he'd had in the shop had almost faded by the time he was inside the car. Dean was knocked out; sleeping so hard he was snoring…Sam couldn't help but feel a little…well. He was pretty sure he'd worn Dean out but that was partly Dean's fault. He could have slept, but no, he'd had to keep pushing and pushing….
Sam grinned fondly down at what he could see of Dean, beat-up leather jacket pulled right up under a fringe of shaggy brown hair, his arms crossed over his chest. Sam patted Dean's knee, and put the Impala in drive, glanced behind him in the rear view mirror. He caught a glimpse of Venus' boy pressed against the screen door, and was rocked by a jolt that burned from his gut down to his dick. oh!—shit--He hurriedly threw the Impala into drive, eager to get away from the outworlders and their influence….
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
He woke Dean up and managed to manhandle him through the front door. Dean made it as far as the couch before collapsing with a curse, wincing and rubbing hard at his eyes. Deep lines wrinkled the corners, lines bracketed his mouth. He practically snarled when Sam tried to sit next to him.
"Christ, you wake up like a fucking bear," Sam complained. Dean shoved himself into a corner of the couch, pulling his knees up and locking an arm around them, making himself into a tight, belligerent ball. He used his free hand to flip Sam off.
Sam dropped the bags on the table, and flung Dean's one-fingered salute right back at him—hell, two could play this crabby game.
He pulled out the tuna hero and tossed it at Dean. "Here. Maybe food will sweeten you up some. And make sure you eat all of it."
Dean snatched up the bag. "Dude, you do not have to tell me to eat all of it. I'm fucking starving." He threw himself down next to Sam and unwrapped the hero. Sniffed it. "Smells funny."
"It's tuna," Sam said and made a face. "Isn’t it supposed to smell funny?"
"Ha. Ha." Dean tasted it and made a face. "Tastes funny." He shrugged and wolfed it down, tearing huge chunks out of it and barely chewing before swallowing."
"God, I'm so not heimliching you if you choke," Sam muttered and wandered off to the kitchen. He came back with a couple of beers, and a thoughtful look.
Dean glanced at him. "Whuff?" he said and wrestled another piece of hero down his throat.
He watched Dean eat, and with every bite he looked a little happier, a little less strained. The line that'd been digging in between his eyebrows and dragging down the corners of his eyes eased away, his skin was less waxen, less greenish looking….Venus' spell seemed to be helping Dean. Sam rubbed at his forehead. And how much, he wondered, was that going to cost him down the line? Sometimes, it really pissed him off that all these…things…kept playing with him. Especially since, he thought, and a warm little flame of anger burst through him, it might not be such a good idea to play with someone who just might be even more powerful than any of them…for a second the world shimmered. He blinked, and it steadied. He glanced at Dean and found him staring at him, open-mouthed.
"What?" He snapped.
"Sam…" Dean swallowed hard and repeated his name. He touched Sam's leg, reverently, an awe-struck expression making him look like a minute away from dropping to his knees. He looked like he was being tortured by ecstasy. He looked like he was being ripped out of himself.
It scared the hell out of Sam.
"Dean!" Sam shouted, fear making his voice rise—Dean shook himself and seemed to be waking up from a deep, deep dream.
"Come on, Dean," Sam managed to soften his voice. "Hey... you okay? You looked kind of spacey there for a moment."
"No, I'm good," Dean said and a smile grew, his whole face seemed to light up. "I'm better than good—I feel…" he rolled his shoulders and grinned. "I feel amazing. Almost as amazing as I was last night," he smirked.
Dean looked up at him, his eyes wide and brilliant green. He rolled to his feet like a cat when Sam took his hand, followed him to the bedroom. Sam pushed the door open, and nudged Dean into the room. "Ready for some down time? You look all out." Dean slipped past him, and stood by the bed. He held out his hand.
"Come here."
Sam shook his head no, but Dean made an impatient noise and said it again. "Come *here*." and Sam came as if he had no choice, pulled by whatever it was that bound them together. Dean undressed him, taking his time, mapping his body, sweeping him with gentle touches that made Sam sweat, made him hard. He watched as Dean took his own clothes off, smiling, glowing—healthier than he'd appeared in…a very long time. The white scars were nearly invisible, the lines bracketing his mouth and eyes were lighter. He lay down on the bed, and spread himself to Sam. "Fuck me."
Sam jerked in surprise. "Oh, no I don't think so. I—I much prefer, hum. Bottom, I bottom." He felt flushed, and embarrassed, and turned on all at once. He could barely imagine that Dean wanted him to…that. Fuck him. oh God…. He was hardly aware that he was stroking himself, staring at Dean. Thinking.
Dean pulled himself up on his elbows, tilted his head at Sam. His tone was puzzled, confused, "But…but you have to. You're the…one. You're *supposed* to fuck me. I need you to."
"What?" Sam felt like he'd walked into the bedroom and right into an alternate dimension—submissive Dean? Sam shivered. Or did he think…he owed Sam this? Maybe he didn't have any other way to express gratitude. Maybe Dean thought…was he trying to pay for his freedom with the only thing he had to give—
"Hey! Einstein!" Dean was yelling, snapping his fingers. "Fucking stop thinking, and get over here--*now*!"
Sam jumped again. "Hunh?"
"I said get over here, damn it." Sam found himself on the bed, and Dean climbed up into his lap. "Stupid," He said fondly, and cupped Sam's face. "I know you, as well as you know me—hell, better. You think I don’t want this, don't you? Well guess what? I'd kill for this. This time around, we do what we know is right for us. Screw everyone else."
Sam thought, in the normal course of things, being called stupid would—should--be an enormous turn-off, but like everything with Dean, should-be got turned upside down and inside out--and he was even more turned on than he'd been in the deli earlier. Being with Dean was like living in Bizarro world, cold was hot and up was down and stupid meant lover and Dean's teeth in his neck was a kiss….
Dean was slicking him up, pumping his dick to rock hardness, and then squirming in Sam's lap as he prepared himself—"Just a little, I like to feel it," he gasped and Sam froze. He couldn't imagine Dean getting fucked, and when he tried to picture it, his eyes fluttered shut and he thrust up, groaning.
Sam loved getting fucked. Loved feeling a dick spread him; drive into him, hot and hard, making him throb around it. He loved the electric shiver he got when it stroked over that spot…yeah, he loved it…but *this*…God damn, this had never felt so good before, so fucking good….
Dean threw his head back and pinched his lower lip between gleaming teeth, moaned deep in his throat. "Oh yeah, yeah, this is good, Sam," he panted, "s'good. Faster…."
Sam wrapped his hands around Dean's hips and moved him, yanked Dean down while he moved up--tried to hit that spot that always made him feel like he was filled with lightning—Dean's face reddened, his breath was coming faster, and each shove inward dragged a moan out of him, a gasp of pleasure…"fuck me, fuck me," he chanted and Sam tried his best and then Dean was begging, "Sam! Sam, let me, let me, I need it…."
Sam felt himself pulse, almost come when he got what Dean was asking, begging for permission. "Yeah, go ahead, bring yourself off, let me see." Sam thought tomorrow the guilt was going to kill him, but tonight, he was going to enjoy every unbelievable minute of it. He watched Dean and wondered how anyone who'd ever slept with him could have let him get out of bed again…".s'fucking amazing, beautiful, come, come on, boy--let go--"
Dean moaned loud…his mouth dropped open, his eyes narrowed to jade slits…he bared his teeth and howled as he came hard, ivory splashes pearled on Sam's chest, his stomach.
Sam felt Dean come from the inside, and then Sam was coming, feeling Dean get hotter, and slicker and Dean was right, this was so, so *so* fucking good….
It felt like hours later when Dean unstuck himself from Sam's chest and muttered, low and to himself, "Okay, now it's right…now it's true."
Sam wondered just what the hell Dean meant, but he was tired and drifting, and Dean said, "Next time, I'm fucking you." which was entirely distracting and Sam forgot all about what he'd meant to ask….
part 20
TBC
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
PairingsDean/Sam
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 3219
Morning was different. It was…it was weird, and uncomfortable. They kept looking at each other, but tried not to make eye-contact. Dean made coffee and Sam made pancakes and shied away every time Dean came near, until finally Dean said, "This is really awkward for you, hunh?"
Sam whipped around to stare at him. "For…me? For me?" Sam was stiff with disbelief. For me? He couldn't make his brain move forward. How could Dean even imagine that it could possibly be otherwise? This was—beyond the realm of awkward, this was truly, *insanely*, fucked up. And still, his gut ached when an image of the night before suddenly flashed in his mind. Dean grabbed his wrist, forcing Sam into meeting his eyes.
"Sam…who else? No one else knows what we know. No one else knows me like you do. After every fucking thing we've done and seen, you're going to tell me that what we did last night—that this is *worse*? I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks, neither should you." Dean glared at Sam. "We *deserve* this, damn, it. I deserve you. Don't we fucking deserve *something* good?"
"Deserve—? Dean. This isn't—normal—"
"Normal? When the fuck have we ever been *close* to normal?" Sam watched Dean move around the kitchen, snatching cups out of the cabinet as he talked, tossing spoons into them, splashing tar-black coffee into them… tried not to see Dean's body. Tried really hard not to remember what it felt like….
Dean had a point. And really, no one else was as close to him. He knew Dean like he knew no one else on the planet. He'd gone right into hell to bring him back—Dean had gone into hell to save Sam's life. One other person might have done that and being with Sam had killed her. Nothing was going to kill Dean. He was too hard, too strong. And he was telling Sam that he was Sam's alone. Dean slammed a cup down in front of him and walked away.
Sam took it, avoiding the steaming puddle it sat in, and sipped at the too hot, too strong brew—thick and bitter, the way Dean liked it. He put the cup down. "Okay. You're right."
"Wha—I mean, hell yeah, I am. Besides you've been wanting to fuck me since you hit puberty,"
"Bastard! That's so not true!"
Dean smirked and tossed a couple of pancakes on his plate. "Pretty sure it is. Eat, you're going to need to keep your strength up." He waggled eyebrows and Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was back with a vengeance. A completely non-pc and totally Dean-like vengeance.
The town was small, and the people there expressed no interest whatsoever in the outsiders, beyond polite inquires of where they were from and were they finding things okay and Sam could completely appreciate why Bobby's friend chose this area for his safe house. They'd loaded up with what they'd need for the next couple of days, plus extra staples to replace what they'd use.
It was noon before they were done, and Sam suddenly had the thought maybe they should buy lunch instead of making it, and the more he thought about it, the better an idea it became, until he was actually feeling a little antsy about feeding Dean, who smirked and took it as his due. He parked in front of a little mom-and-pop style deli that seemed odd to find in the small town—more big-city than backwoods.
He got out of the car, and the smell drifting out through the screened doorway made his nose twitch and his stomach growl. Dean gave him a lazy smile, and snuggled closer to the car door. He looked content, eyes drooping. "Bring me pie, bitch," he grumbled sleepily, and Sam laughed.
"Rii-iight, 'cause you're so full of charm," he grinned and Dean smirked back.
"Damn right."
Sam trotted across the little lot in front of the deli, heart soaring. Dean had called him 'Bitch'…and realizing that he was so thrilled his brother had insulted him made him laugh out loud. He stepped into the aromatic little shop, thinking about roast beef and thin sliced Swiss, and maybe he'd luck out and there'd be real vanilla coke, the kind made with syrup, yeah--a hero and a slice of pie for Dean--and Sam groaned. Damn it.
The hair all over his body rose and energy skated over his skin. His mouth went dry and his dick twitched, tried to fill. The woman behind the formica topped counter was gorgeous, unbelievably beautiful, red hair, full lips and deep blue eyes, almost navy really, and not even close to human.
"Hello beautiful," she said. She was leaning elbows on the counter, chin supported by long white hands, and her red nails looked like splashes of blood against her matte pale skin. Blonde hair piled high in loose curls framed her face in a style that had been fashionable years ago, makeup and clothes were from the same time period and it didn't make her look one bit less like living, breathing, sex. Her voice was like smoke, it wrapped around him, slid into his skin and worked its way right down to his crotch. He shifted uncomfortably--fuck, he had a hard-on straining against his pant leg.
"Stop it."
Black, black lashes fluttered and her candy pink lips pouted seductively. He felt himself lean forward a little, staring at them…"Whatever do you mean, sugar?" she asked, all hurt innocence….
Sam grit his teeth and pulled back. Her eyes were navy. He concentrated, filled his mind with the image of green eyes, thick lashes, a mouth whose shape and color rivaled hers and had a pull on him that helped Sam to ignore what she was doing to him, give him the strength to pull away. "I can see you, the real you," he ground out. "You know I can."
"Oh well, you can't blame a girl for trying." She smiled, and Sam ground his teeth hard together, thought 'Green eyes, green eyes'…
"I'm told that you received your heart's desire. I could have helped you with that—it's practically my business. All you had to do was ask." She sighed, a sound just full of disappointment and Sam's heart ached miserably for making her feel that way—he snapped his head back and forth to clear it.
She grinned briefly, lifted an eyebrow in a kind of shrug before continuing, "Samuel, you know what tricksters are like, you know they push and prod and watch the dominoes fall. That's their holy burden, their purpose. Not saying sometimes they don’t hand you something—it's the empty hand you have to worry about, sweet-cakes."
Sam huffed. Of course he knew that. He knew all tricksters in all cultures operated basically the same way. He wasn't naïve enough to think Esu operated differently. She shifted, parts shimmied and Sam ground his teeth as he *had* to watch.
"Honey-pie, you've taken the bait out of a trap un-sprung—yet. If I were you, I'd look behind the doors I open." She leaned against the counter again, flesh swelled and pinked and Sam breathed noisily though his nose and adjusted himself. "I'm curious to see what comes of such all-consuming, self-sacrificing love. I'm not really sure if even I approve. Any way, I *like* you, sugar-plum, and I'm going to do you a favor." She stood straighter, and her aspect changed, so much that Sam had to close his eyes. He heard her say—felt more than heard—" All that is yours belongs to you, that which is yours, you belong to equally. Inside, outside, by your side and cannot be divided." She brushed her hands, smiled, and was again the blowsy, slightly over-ripe blonde again. "There. That will make it a titch easier for him."
Sam blinked. She'd said something, implied something. He'd had the feeling—had *known* that getting Dean back the way he did was going to come with a price, no matter what Esu had said. Sam blinked again, and inhaled. Right. In the mean time, his brother was waiting…"Um, thanks for the…thanks. Can I…I wanted to…buy something...?"
"Well 'course, honey-cakes, that's what we're here for," she smiled. "Girl's gotta make a living."
Sam ordered a roast beef and Swiss on wheat and a tuna hero, and felt…beyond bizarre. He was ordering lunch from a goddess. Dean was right. Normal was not where they lived, not even close. Sam took a deep breath, and stared at the floor, working hard on shutting out Venus or whatever name she took in this aspect. He did math and sang nursery rhymes in his head until he felt a wave of vertigo--
He looked up again when a bag waved in his range of eyesight. It wasn't her; it was a boy, a really beautiful boy. The feeling he got from him wasn't quite as strong from *her*, but it was there. He stared at the boy's mouth and shivered.
The boy poked a paper wrapped sandwich in his direction, before slipping it into the bag with the rest. "Mother made the tuna especially for your brother. Mother says make sure your brother eats all of this. It's got some dill, and thyme, some rosemary and…other good stuff in it. Make sure he eats every bit, even if he doesn't want to." He smiled and Sam blinked, released. He was pretty damn certain he hadn't mentioned his brother…though why he was surprised….
Sam handed him the money and the boy stroked his hand, from his palm to the tips of his fingers and Sam groaned a little. Still hard, painfully hard.
"Thank—thank you. Tell your mother I thank her for her kindness."
He smiled at Sam and his eyes flashed bright, bright blue. "I will. Come…visit us again. And next time, make sure you bring your brother inside."
He stood on the deli's wooden porch for a moment, breathing heavily. He held the bag tight in his hand…the feeling he'd had in the shop had almost faded by the time he was inside the car. Dean was knocked out; sleeping so hard he was snoring…Sam couldn't help but feel a little…well. He was pretty sure he'd worn Dean out but that was partly Dean's fault. He could have slept, but no, he'd had to keep pushing and pushing….
Sam grinned fondly down at what he could see of Dean, beat-up leather jacket pulled right up under a fringe of shaggy brown hair, his arms crossed over his chest. Sam patted Dean's knee, and put the Impala in drive, glanced behind him in the rear view mirror. He caught a glimpse of Venus' boy pressed against the screen door, and was rocked by a jolt that burned from his gut down to his dick. oh!—shit--He hurriedly threw the Impala into drive, eager to get away from the outworlders and their influence….
He woke Dean up and managed to manhandle him through the front door. Dean made it as far as the couch before collapsing with a curse, wincing and rubbing hard at his eyes. Deep lines wrinkled the corners, lines bracketed his mouth. He practically snarled when Sam tried to sit next to him.
"Christ, you wake up like a fucking bear," Sam complained. Dean shoved himself into a corner of the couch, pulling his knees up and locking an arm around them, making himself into a tight, belligerent ball. He used his free hand to flip Sam off.
Sam dropped the bags on the table, and flung Dean's one-fingered salute right back at him—hell, two could play this crabby game.
He pulled out the tuna hero and tossed it at Dean. "Here. Maybe food will sweeten you up some. And make sure you eat all of it."
Dean snatched up the bag. "Dude, you do not have to tell me to eat all of it. I'm fucking starving." He threw himself down next to Sam and unwrapped the hero. Sniffed it. "Smells funny."
"It's tuna," Sam said and made a face. "Isn’t it supposed to smell funny?"
"Ha. Ha." Dean tasted it and made a face. "Tastes funny." He shrugged and wolfed it down, tearing huge chunks out of it and barely chewing before swallowing."
"God, I'm so not heimliching you if you choke," Sam muttered and wandered off to the kitchen. He came back with a couple of beers, and a thoughtful look.
Dean glanced at him. "Whuff?" he said and wrestled another piece of hero down his throat.
He watched Dean eat, and with every bite he looked a little happier, a little less strained. The line that'd been digging in between his eyebrows and dragging down the corners of his eyes eased away, his skin was less waxen, less greenish looking….Venus' spell seemed to be helping Dean. Sam rubbed at his forehead. And how much, he wondered, was that going to cost him down the line? Sometimes, it really pissed him off that all these…things…kept playing with him. Especially since, he thought, and a warm little flame of anger burst through him, it might not be such a good idea to play with someone who just might be even more powerful than any of them…for a second the world shimmered. He blinked, and it steadied. He glanced at Dean and found him staring at him, open-mouthed.
"What?" He snapped.
"Sam…" Dean swallowed hard and repeated his name. He touched Sam's leg, reverently, an awe-struck expression making him look like a minute away from dropping to his knees. He looked like he was being tortured by ecstasy. He looked like he was being ripped out of himself.
It scared the hell out of Sam.
"Dean!" Sam shouted, fear making his voice rise—Dean shook himself and seemed to be waking up from a deep, deep dream.
"Come on, Dean," Sam managed to soften his voice. "Hey... you okay? You looked kind of spacey there for a moment."
"No, I'm good," Dean said and a smile grew, his whole face seemed to light up. "I'm better than good—I feel…" he rolled his shoulders and grinned. "I feel amazing. Almost as amazing as I was last night," he smirked.
Dean looked up at him, his eyes wide and brilliant green. He rolled to his feet like a cat when Sam took his hand, followed him to the bedroom. Sam pushed the door open, and nudged Dean into the room. "Ready for some down time? You look all out." Dean slipped past him, and stood by the bed. He held out his hand.
"Come here."
Sam shook his head no, but Dean made an impatient noise and said it again. "Come *here*." and Sam came as if he had no choice, pulled by whatever it was that bound them together. Dean undressed him, taking his time, mapping his body, sweeping him with gentle touches that made Sam sweat, made him hard. He watched as Dean took his own clothes off, smiling, glowing—healthier than he'd appeared in…a very long time. The white scars were nearly invisible, the lines bracketing his mouth and eyes were lighter. He lay down on the bed, and spread himself to Sam. "Fuck me."
Sam jerked in surprise. "Oh, no I don't think so. I—I much prefer, hum. Bottom, I bottom." He felt flushed, and embarrassed, and turned on all at once. He could barely imagine that Dean wanted him to…that. Fuck him. oh God…. He was hardly aware that he was stroking himself, staring at Dean. Thinking.
Dean pulled himself up on his elbows, tilted his head at Sam. His tone was puzzled, confused, "But…but you have to. You're the…one. You're *supposed* to fuck me. I need you to."
"What?" Sam felt like he'd walked into the bedroom and right into an alternate dimension—submissive Dean? Sam shivered. Or did he think…he owed Sam this? Maybe he didn't have any other way to express gratitude. Maybe Dean thought…was he trying to pay for his freedom with the only thing he had to give—
"Hey! Einstein!" Dean was yelling, snapping his fingers. "Fucking stop thinking, and get over here--*now*!"
Sam jumped again. "Hunh?"
"I said get over here, damn it." Sam found himself on the bed, and Dean climbed up into his lap. "Stupid," He said fondly, and cupped Sam's face. "I know you, as well as you know me—hell, better. You think I don’t want this, don't you? Well guess what? I'd kill for this. This time around, we do what we know is right for us. Screw everyone else."
Sam thought, in the normal course of things, being called stupid would—should--be an enormous turn-off, but like everything with Dean, should-be got turned upside down and inside out--and he was even more turned on than he'd been in the deli earlier. Being with Dean was like living in Bizarro world, cold was hot and up was down and stupid meant lover and Dean's teeth in his neck was a kiss….
Dean was slicking him up, pumping his dick to rock hardness, and then squirming in Sam's lap as he prepared himself—"Just a little, I like to feel it," he gasped and Sam froze. He couldn't imagine Dean getting fucked, and when he tried to picture it, his eyes fluttered shut and he thrust up, groaning.
Sam loved getting fucked. Loved feeling a dick spread him; drive into him, hot and hard, making him throb around it. He loved the electric shiver he got when it stroked over that spot…yeah, he loved it…but *this*…God damn, this had never felt so good before, so fucking good….
Dean threw his head back and pinched his lower lip between gleaming teeth, moaned deep in his throat. "Oh yeah, yeah, this is good, Sam," he panted, "s'good. Faster…."
Sam wrapped his hands around Dean's hips and moved him, yanked Dean down while he moved up--tried to hit that spot that always made him feel like he was filled with lightning—Dean's face reddened, his breath was coming faster, and each shove inward dragged a moan out of him, a gasp of pleasure…"fuck me, fuck me," he chanted and Sam tried his best and then Dean was begging, "Sam! Sam, let me, let me, I need it…."
Sam felt himself pulse, almost come when he got what Dean was asking, begging for permission. "Yeah, go ahead, bring yourself off, let me see." Sam thought tomorrow the guilt was going to kill him, but tonight, he was going to enjoy every unbelievable minute of it. He watched Dean and wondered how anyone who'd ever slept with him could have let him get out of bed again…".s'fucking amazing, beautiful, come, come on, boy--let go--"
Dean moaned loud…his mouth dropped open, his eyes narrowed to jade slits…he bared his teeth and howled as he came hard, ivory splashes pearled on Sam's chest, his stomach.
Sam felt Dean come from the inside, and then Sam was coming, feeling Dean get hotter, and slicker and Dean was right, this was so, so *so* fucking good….
It felt like hours later when Dean unstuck himself from Sam's chest and muttered, low and to himself, "Okay, now it's right…now it's true."
Sam wondered just what the hell Dean meant, but he was tired and drifting, and Dean said, "Next time, I'm fucking you." which was entirely distracting and Sam forgot all about what he'd meant to ask….
part 20
TBC