Fic - Sam/Dean - The five senses
Title: The five senses 
Author: benitle
Rating: R
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Word count: 2,785
Warnings: Wincest
Feedback: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: This story is complete fiction. It never happened.
Summary: Due to a curse Sam loses his five senses.
Note: Written in the university library with many people around when the plotbunny attacked me. Many thanks to my awesome, kick-ass, super duper beta estel_willow. Thank you, sweetie!
During the first week Sam loses his sense of hearing.
Initially Dean thinks that Sam’s a moody brat, a petulant child and that he’s still mad at Dean for having a go at him back in the old house.
They fought a wicked witch that cursed various people in Boston. It had taken them almost forever to find her because she did not really follow a pattern, but picked random people and random curses which made it all the way harder. She was just a bitter old woman that wished evil upon others. When they fought her, Sam didn’t pay attention for a split second and that was all the opening she needed. The witch used the moment to throw a cuss at them in Latin before Dean could finally make her surrender. Once the danger was gone, Dean couldn’t help but yell at Sam that he needed to pay more attention; otherwise it would get one of them killed. Sam apologized thoroughly as they packed their stuff and destroyed all evidence and then headed back to the Impala.
They’ve been driving for 20 minutes at least and Sam hasn’t said a word. Dean started talking after about 10 minutes, explaining Sam that it’s ok and that they’ll forget about it, since neither is hurt. He even said that he’s sorry for losing his temper. But Sam just didn’t say anything; he simply stared out of the passenger window, not reacting at all.
So now, Dean decides to turn up the volume of the radio since too loud music always gets him Sam’s attention, though not always in the best ways. But once Dean has reached a volume that feels uncomfortable even to him, nothing happens. Sam doesn’t even flinch, let alone snarl at Dean.
“Sammy, fucking look at me when I’m talking to you,” Dean almost yells.
Nothing.
Only when he hits Sam hard against his upper arm, does Sam flinch and turn towards him.
“You’re a jerk, you know? How often do I have to call you?” Dean hisses but Sam only frowns at him.
“What did you say, Dean?” The way he says it sounds awkward, not quite the way it usually does. It’s a strong drawl, almost sounds a bit Southern, the vowels and consonants so unlike Sam usually pronounces them.
When Sam finishes the sentence his eyes spring wide open. Annoyed, Dean repeats his question, louder this time, but again, Sam only frowns at him. When Sam taps his fingers against his ears, he says with that strange voice again, “I can’t hear you.”
“What?”
Dean hopes this is a bad joke, but Sam tips once more his fingers against his ears while shaking his head.
Once they’re back in the motel room, Dean searches for a pen and paper and Sam scribbles down that he can’t hear what Dean’s saying and that he can’t hear anything else either. He says - no, wait, he writes - that it feels as if everything and everyone around him has gone mute.
“Terrific,” Dean says more to himself and only when Sam looks at him with questioning eyes, he writes it down. Sam truly looks annoyed and confused as he suddenly starts writing more on the paper.
The witch, Dean! She said something to us in Latin. Maybe she cursed me. Did you get what she said?
Dean only shakes his head and writes that he heard random words but that he didn’t particularly pay attention because he was busy killing the bitch. Sam lets himself fall down on the bed with a soft thud and releases a little groan that only Dean can hear. As Dean approaches he strokes softly over Sam’s thigh and hands him the notepad.
You go and do some research online and I’ll give Caleb a call.
Sam nods as he gets up again, giving Dean a thumbs up.
Dean almost has to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but he knows that Sam would be mad at him if he did, though he should be on the safe side since Sam can’t hear him anyway.
Once Dean gets off the phone with Caleb, he starts writing on the notepad again.
Told Caleb about this and also the bits of Latin I could remember and he tells you not to worry. He’s come across something like that in the past and he’s sure it’ll wear off all by itself. It’ll go through your five senses and will take them each in turn and then you’ll be back to normal. He also says at least you don’t have to listen to all the crap I talk for one week and that he sends you a tight hug.
Sam sighs dramatically each of my senses? One week? How am I supposed to survive?
Dean only grins as he pats Sam’s back.
During this first week they decide not to go on a hunt because they both believe that Sam’s sense of hearing is far too important and that he’ll need it to hunt, unless they both want to be in danger. Sam randomly complains that he hates this shit and that he wants to be able to hear again, that he hates how everything is quiet around him, that he can’t hear Dean’s voice, that the TV makes no sense without the volume, that they need to scribble down stuff whenever they want to communicate and that, most important, he can’t hear Dean moan when they fuck.
Dean counts down the days until Sam’s sense will return and tries to make him better by drawing a little line each day, a tally, like a criminal in prison that counts the days until he is finally released to civilization.
After one week, Sam’s sense of hearing suddenly comes back.
***
During the second week Sam loses his sense of smell.
Sam first thought it wouldn’t be bad, but now that he’s bent over the toilet, retching and throwing up he changes his mind. Ok, so not being able to smell sucks.
For a split second Dean considered teasing Sam about eating something bad and foul on his way from the library back to the motel while Dean was busy talking to locals, but in the end he decided against it, especially now since Sam is almost puking his heart out, nothing solid anymore, just clear, stinging, smelling bile. It’s not Sam’s fault that he couldn’t smell the food’s evil odor, whereas Dean could as soon as he entered their motel room. By then, Sam was already in the bathroom.
All Dean can do now is pat his brother’s back encouragingly, hold his bangs out of his face, tell him that it’s ok and that he’s got him and pray that it’s no serious food poisoning.
Once Sam is done, he curses at the fact that he’s still got his sense of taste because he really could do without the disgusting taste in his mouth. Dean only laughs and says that Sam’s still got to lose that sense and that he’ll talk to Sam again once it’s gone.
Another thing that sucks is that when they fuck; Sam can’t smell Dean, that no matter how deeply he inhales, the characteristic scent of Dean simply won’t fill his nose. The raw, manly smell of Dean that he loves so much, that makes him high and that never fails to fog his senses as either thrusts into the other. He misses the way Dean’s groin smells musky when Sam swallows his brother’s cock down to the base, the salty smell of sweat on Dean’s skin or the sweet smell of come.
The funny thing about Sam losing his sense of smell is that in the future, until the end of his life, he’ll always smell at his food, no matter how fresh it looks.
After one week, Sam’s sense of smell suddenly comes back.
***
During the third week Sam loses his sense of sight.
It’s horrible. It’s horrible for both of them. It’s worse for Dean, for the most part, because he doesn’t trust Sam much on his own anymore, ever since he dropped three glasses in an attempt to get himself some water, cut himself lightly with a knife once in an attempt to open a bag of snacks Dean had bought for them and tripped over random stuff at least six times in an attempt to move around the room. So now he’s bruised, moody as hell and helpless and Dean just doesn’t want to leave him alone.
For Sam it’s bad because he hates how dependent he is on Dean now. There is nothing wrong with relying on Dean and having Dean take care of him, but if you are that helpless and everything around you is black; the dark, dangerous blackness threatening to take you over, then it’s simply an entirely different league. It must be different for people who are born blind and who have years to adjust and learn how to live in this black world, but when you suddenly, from one day to the other wake up and even though you open yours eyes, still all you see is black, then it’s no fun. It sucks.
It takes Dean quite a lot to convince Sam to stay mainly in bed, to take it as a chance to rest and generate new powers. He can feel Sam’s urge to move, to go and hunt something and that surprises Dean, because he always thought that he was the only one who got nervous after being still for a while.
One thing that Sam likes though is that when they fuck, all his other senses are stronger. He hadn’t noticed before, when he couldn’t hear or when he couldn’t smell, but now it’s something he can’t possibly deny, that the smell of Dean is more intense in his nose, so is the taste of Dean as he sucks fiercely at Dean’s cock. It is the same with Dean’s moans and pants and sounds and whimpers when he comes; it goes directly under Sam’s skin. Also his fingers seem to be more sensible and almost burn as he strokes Dean’s skin, pushes them into his brother, preparing him carefully with first one and then two and then three fingers. That’s nice, Sam says, but still, he really wants to be able to see again.
After one week, Sam’s sense of sight suddenly comes back.
***
During the fourth week Sam loses his sense of taste.
They fight almost at each diner or bar they’re at. Sam doesn’t see the sense of eating, since nothing tastes like anything and whether he orders the burger with French fries or a steak with vegetables, it just doesn’t make a difference, he complains. He says he doesn’t want to eat because chewing on something that doesn’t taste like anything until it’s enough like a mash, so that he can swallow it is fucking gross, as he puts it.
Dean insists though that he eats and that he needs the strength. It’s only one week, Sammy, he reassures and he goes back to showing Sam the tally he started earlier. But Sam just sighs and says that he doesn’t want to.
When the waitress, in her late twenties, approaches their table and asks them sweetly what they’d have, Sam opens his mouth to say that he doesn’t want anything, thank you, but Dean is faster to speak and orders a burger for himself and the steak for Sam. His brother shots him an angry glare, but Dean just ignores it and flashes a smile at the waitress.
Sam complains that he isn’t hungry and they have that discussion again. Being sick of this whole topic (after just one day), Dean hisses only for Sam to hear that he’ll force the food down Sam’s throat if he doesn’t eat it himself.
Reluctant and pouting, Sam stabs his meal, not looking at Dean once.
Once they’re back in the motel room, the one they’ve stayed at ever since the curse had started because it is too dangerous to go on hunts like this, Dean runs a hand up and down Sam’s back, trying to soothe his younger, stubborn brother. Dean gives Sam’s ass a good squeeze and only when Sam turns around to snarl at Dean, does Dean press his lips to Sam’s in a fierce kiss.
Over the following hours, Sam finds out that also in bed not being table to taste sucks. All those familiar spots on Dean’s body, each one having a different taste and scent, the one behind Dean’s ear or the one above Dean’s nipples, the one just below Dean’s navel or the one behind Dean’s balls, they all taste alike. Like nothing. Sam wants his sense of taste to come back.
After one week, Sam’s sense of taste suddenly comes back.
***
During the fifth week Sam loses his sense of touch.
Caleb randomly calls, asking how Sam is doing. Sam says that he’s fine and tells him about the previous weeks and what happened, including all accidents, but leaving out the fucks. Dad’s friend only laughs and says that Sam needs to cheer up since it’s the last week and that he’s sure Dean’s taken good care of him.
He has.
So right now, Sam sits at the PC - Dean’s out to get some food - while his whole body feels numb. It’s strange that he cannot feel the pressure on his fingertips as the types a mail, or that he cannot feel the hardness of the table’s leg as he bumps his knee absent-mindedly against it.
Sam still hopes that this is not the worst of all and that Caleb’s right and that next week; he’ll finally be ok and fully-functioning again. As soon Dean returns, he kisses Sam’s temple and places a cup of coffee for him on the table.
Sam smiles weakly, thanks him and tells Dean that he just talked to Caleb again and that he sends greetings. He reaches for the styrofoam cup of coffee and it’s weird but even though Dean tells him to be careful since it’s hot, his fingers just won’t deliver the message to his brain.
And then, when Sam lifts the cup, his grip not tight enough (because he also lost his sense of how much pressure he’s applying to things), he drops it when he’s lifted it halfway to his lips, spilling hot coffee over himself, the laptop and Dean.
Dean jumps up and curses, yelping in pain at the hot liquid. And while Sam continues saying the words “oh God, I’m so sorry, Dean,” over and over again, Dean stalks over to the kitchenette to fetch tissues.
“Come over here,” he says and letting cold water run over his own limbs, before giving Sam a cold cloth to rub it over his burning red thighs while Dean cleans the laptop.
Later that evening, when they snuggle close in bed, Sam complains that he cannot feel Dean as he presses close. It’s a weird feeling, he says, because of course he somehow can feel that there is something against him that would keep him from just rolling around freely in the bed, but still, he somehow cannot feel anything. Dean only hums and when he slides a hand over the small of Sam’s back, Sam doesn’t even notice. Sam doesn’t feel the touch of Dean’s hand on his cock either or how Dean cups and massages Sam’s balls in his palm.
“Nothing?”
“No, nothing, Dean.”
It’s frustrating. Sam knows that he should be getting hard from the way Dean strokes him, from the way Dean showers his skin in soft kisses, but he doesn’t. It’s worse than anything else. Eventually, something does happen with Sam’s body, but it results more from the visual of Dean caressing him rather than the touch itself. And in the end, it only gets him half-hard, nothing more.
Sam sighs in frustration and tells Dean to stop. It’s an incredibly hard week for both of them.
After one week, Sam’s sense of touch suddenly comes back.
***
During the sixth week Sam’s senses come back. All of them.
It feels like a firework and everything around him feels louder and more intense and brighter and tastier and softer. Already a gentle whisper of Dean’s voice gets him hard, so does the slightest scent of Dean when the wind blows the right direction or the sight of a tiny bit of flesh when Dean’s shirt rides up and even the briefest kiss is intense like nothing else. But the best is probably the stolen touches in between, the soft caresses and bashful strokes.
It’s going to be a good week.
Author: benitle
Rating: R
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Word count: 2,785
Warnings: Wincest
Feedback: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: This story is complete fiction. It never happened.
Summary: Due to a curse Sam loses his five senses.
Note: Written in the university library with many people around when the plotbunny attacked me. Many thanks to my awesome, kick-ass, super duper beta estel_willow. Thank you, sweetie!
During the first week Sam loses his sense of hearing.
Initially Dean thinks that Sam’s a moody brat, a petulant child and that he’s still mad at Dean for having a go at him back in the old house.
They fought a wicked witch that cursed various people in Boston. It had taken them almost forever to find her because she did not really follow a pattern, but picked random people and random curses which made it all the way harder. She was just a bitter old woman that wished evil upon others. When they fought her, Sam didn’t pay attention for a split second and that was all the opening she needed. The witch used the moment to throw a cuss at them in Latin before Dean could finally make her surrender. Once the danger was gone, Dean couldn’t help but yell at Sam that he needed to pay more attention; otherwise it would get one of them killed. Sam apologized thoroughly as they packed their stuff and destroyed all evidence and then headed back to the Impala.
They’ve been driving for 20 minutes at least and Sam hasn’t said a word. Dean started talking after about 10 minutes, explaining Sam that it’s ok and that they’ll forget about it, since neither is hurt. He even said that he’s sorry for losing his temper. But Sam just didn’t say anything; he simply stared out of the passenger window, not reacting at all.
So now, Dean decides to turn up the volume of the radio since too loud music always gets him Sam’s attention, though not always in the best ways. But once Dean has reached a volume that feels uncomfortable even to him, nothing happens. Sam doesn’t even flinch, let alone snarl at Dean.
“Sammy, fucking look at me when I’m talking to you,” Dean almost yells.
Nothing.
Only when he hits Sam hard against his upper arm, does Sam flinch and turn towards him.
“You’re a jerk, you know? How often do I have to call you?” Dean hisses but Sam only frowns at him.
“What did you say, Dean?” The way he says it sounds awkward, not quite the way it usually does. It’s a strong drawl, almost sounds a bit Southern, the vowels and consonants so unlike Sam usually pronounces them.
When Sam finishes the sentence his eyes spring wide open. Annoyed, Dean repeats his question, louder this time, but again, Sam only frowns at him. When Sam taps his fingers against his ears, he says with that strange voice again, “I can’t hear you.”
“What?”
Dean hopes this is a bad joke, but Sam tips once more his fingers against his ears while shaking his head.
Once they’re back in the motel room, Dean searches for a pen and paper and Sam scribbles down that he can’t hear what Dean’s saying and that he can’t hear anything else either. He says - no, wait, he writes - that it feels as if everything and everyone around him has gone mute.
“Terrific,” Dean says more to himself and only when Sam looks at him with questioning eyes, he writes it down. Sam truly looks annoyed and confused as he suddenly starts writing more on the paper.
The witch, Dean! She said something to us in Latin. Maybe she cursed me. Did you get what she said?
Dean only shakes his head and writes that he heard random words but that he didn’t particularly pay attention because he was busy killing the bitch. Sam lets himself fall down on the bed with a soft thud and releases a little groan that only Dean can hear. As Dean approaches he strokes softly over Sam’s thigh and hands him the notepad.
You go and do some research online and I’ll give Caleb a call.
Sam nods as he gets up again, giving Dean a thumbs up.
Dean almost has to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but he knows that Sam would be mad at him if he did, though he should be on the safe side since Sam can’t hear him anyway.
Once Dean gets off the phone with Caleb, he starts writing on the notepad again.
Told Caleb about this and also the bits of Latin I could remember and he tells you not to worry. He’s come across something like that in the past and he’s sure it’ll wear off all by itself. It’ll go through your five senses and will take them each in turn and then you’ll be back to normal. He also says at least you don’t have to listen to all the crap I talk for one week and that he sends you a tight hug.
Sam sighs dramatically each of my senses? One week? How am I supposed to survive?
Dean only grins as he pats Sam’s back.
During this first week they decide not to go on a hunt because they both believe that Sam’s sense of hearing is far too important and that he’ll need it to hunt, unless they both want to be in danger. Sam randomly complains that he hates this shit and that he wants to be able to hear again, that he hates how everything is quiet around him, that he can’t hear Dean’s voice, that the TV makes no sense without the volume, that they need to scribble down stuff whenever they want to communicate and that, most important, he can’t hear Dean moan when they fuck.
Dean counts down the days until Sam’s sense will return and tries to make him better by drawing a little line each day, a tally, like a criminal in prison that counts the days until he is finally released to civilization.
After one week, Sam’s sense of hearing suddenly comes back.
***
During the second week Sam loses his sense of smell.
Sam first thought it wouldn’t be bad, but now that he’s bent over the toilet, retching and throwing up he changes his mind. Ok, so not being able to smell sucks.
For a split second Dean considered teasing Sam about eating something bad and foul on his way from the library back to the motel while Dean was busy talking to locals, but in the end he decided against it, especially now since Sam is almost puking his heart out, nothing solid anymore, just clear, stinging, smelling bile. It’s not Sam’s fault that he couldn’t smell the food’s evil odor, whereas Dean could as soon as he entered their motel room. By then, Sam was already in the bathroom.
All Dean can do now is pat his brother’s back encouragingly, hold his bangs out of his face, tell him that it’s ok and that he’s got him and pray that it’s no serious food poisoning.
Once Sam is done, he curses at the fact that he’s still got his sense of taste because he really could do without the disgusting taste in his mouth. Dean only laughs and says that Sam’s still got to lose that sense and that he’ll talk to Sam again once it’s gone.
Another thing that sucks is that when they fuck; Sam can’t smell Dean, that no matter how deeply he inhales, the characteristic scent of Dean simply won’t fill his nose. The raw, manly smell of Dean that he loves so much, that makes him high and that never fails to fog his senses as either thrusts into the other. He misses the way Dean’s groin smells musky when Sam swallows his brother’s cock down to the base, the salty smell of sweat on Dean’s skin or the sweet smell of come.
The funny thing about Sam losing his sense of smell is that in the future, until the end of his life, he’ll always smell at his food, no matter how fresh it looks.
After one week, Sam’s sense of smell suddenly comes back.
***
During the third week Sam loses his sense of sight.
It’s horrible. It’s horrible for both of them. It’s worse for Dean, for the most part, because he doesn’t trust Sam much on his own anymore, ever since he dropped three glasses in an attempt to get himself some water, cut himself lightly with a knife once in an attempt to open a bag of snacks Dean had bought for them and tripped over random stuff at least six times in an attempt to move around the room. So now he’s bruised, moody as hell and helpless and Dean just doesn’t want to leave him alone.
For Sam it’s bad because he hates how dependent he is on Dean now. There is nothing wrong with relying on Dean and having Dean take care of him, but if you are that helpless and everything around you is black; the dark, dangerous blackness threatening to take you over, then it’s simply an entirely different league. It must be different for people who are born blind and who have years to adjust and learn how to live in this black world, but when you suddenly, from one day to the other wake up and even though you open yours eyes, still all you see is black, then it’s no fun. It sucks.
It takes Dean quite a lot to convince Sam to stay mainly in bed, to take it as a chance to rest and generate new powers. He can feel Sam’s urge to move, to go and hunt something and that surprises Dean, because he always thought that he was the only one who got nervous after being still for a while.
One thing that Sam likes though is that when they fuck, all his other senses are stronger. He hadn’t noticed before, when he couldn’t hear or when he couldn’t smell, but now it’s something he can’t possibly deny, that the smell of Dean is more intense in his nose, so is the taste of Dean as he sucks fiercely at Dean’s cock. It is the same with Dean’s moans and pants and sounds and whimpers when he comes; it goes directly under Sam’s skin. Also his fingers seem to be more sensible and almost burn as he strokes Dean’s skin, pushes them into his brother, preparing him carefully with first one and then two and then three fingers. That’s nice, Sam says, but still, he really wants to be able to see again.
After one week, Sam’s sense of sight suddenly comes back.
***
During the fourth week Sam loses his sense of taste.
They fight almost at each diner or bar they’re at. Sam doesn’t see the sense of eating, since nothing tastes like anything and whether he orders the burger with French fries or a steak with vegetables, it just doesn’t make a difference, he complains. He says he doesn’t want to eat because chewing on something that doesn’t taste like anything until it’s enough like a mash, so that he can swallow it is fucking gross, as he puts it.
Dean insists though that he eats and that he needs the strength. It’s only one week, Sammy, he reassures and he goes back to showing Sam the tally he started earlier. But Sam just sighs and says that he doesn’t want to.
When the waitress, in her late twenties, approaches their table and asks them sweetly what they’d have, Sam opens his mouth to say that he doesn’t want anything, thank you, but Dean is faster to speak and orders a burger for himself and the steak for Sam. His brother shots him an angry glare, but Dean just ignores it and flashes a smile at the waitress.
Sam complains that he isn’t hungry and they have that discussion again. Being sick of this whole topic (after just one day), Dean hisses only for Sam to hear that he’ll force the food down Sam’s throat if he doesn’t eat it himself.
Reluctant and pouting, Sam stabs his meal, not looking at Dean once.
Once they’re back in the motel room, the one they’ve stayed at ever since the curse had started because it is too dangerous to go on hunts like this, Dean runs a hand up and down Sam’s back, trying to soothe his younger, stubborn brother. Dean gives Sam’s ass a good squeeze and only when Sam turns around to snarl at Dean, does Dean press his lips to Sam’s in a fierce kiss.
Over the following hours, Sam finds out that also in bed not being table to taste sucks. All those familiar spots on Dean’s body, each one having a different taste and scent, the one behind Dean’s ear or the one above Dean’s nipples, the one just below Dean’s navel or the one behind Dean’s balls, they all taste alike. Like nothing. Sam wants his sense of taste to come back.
After one week, Sam’s sense of taste suddenly comes back.
***
During the fifth week Sam loses his sense of touch.
Caleb randomly calls, asking how Sam is doing. Sam says that he’s fine and tells him about the previous weeks and what happened, including all accidents, but leaving out the fucks. Dad’s friend only laughs and says that Sam needs to cheer up since it’s the last week and that he’s sure Dean’s taken good care of him.
He has.
So right now, Sam sits at the PC - Dean’s out to get some food - while his whole body feels numb. It’s strange that he cannot feel the pressure on his fingertips as the types a mail, or that he cannot feel the hardness of the table’s leg as he bumps his knee absent-mindedly against it.
Sam still hopes that this is not the worst of all and that Caleb’s right and that next week; he’ll finally be ok and fully-functioning again. As soon Dean returns, he kisses Sam’s temple and places a cup of coffee for him on the table.
Sam smiles weakly, thanks him and tells Dean that he just talked to Caleb again and that he sends greetings. He reaches for the styrofoam cup of coffee and it’s weird but even though Dean tells him to be careful since it’s hot, his fingers just won’t deliver the message to his brain.
And then, when Sam lifts the cup, his grip not tight enough (because he also lost his sense of how much pressure he’s applying to things), he drops it when he’s lifted it halfway to his lips, spilling hot coffee over himself, the laptop and Dean.
Dean jumps up and curses, yelping in pain at the hot liquid. And while Sam continues saying the words “oh God, I’m so sorry, Dean,” over and over again, Dean stalks over to the kitchenette to fetch tissues.
“Come over here,” he says and letting cold water run over his own limbs, before giving Sam a cold cloth to rub it over his burning red thighs while Dean cleans the laptop.
Later that evening, when they snuggle close in bed, Sam complains that he cannot feel Dean as he presses close. It’s a weird feeling, he says, because of course he somehow can feel that there is something against him that would keep him from just rolling around freely in the bed, but still, he somehow cannot feel anything. Dean only hums and when he slides a hand over the small of Sam’s back, Sam doesn’t even notice. Sam doesn’t feel the touch of Dean’s hand on his cock either or how Dean cups and massages Sam’s balls in his palm.
“Nothing?”
“No, nothing, Dean.”
It’s frustrating. Sam knows that he should be getting hard from the way Dean strokes him, from the way Dean showers his skin in soft kisses, but he doesn’t. It’s worse than anything else. Eventually, something does happen with Sam’s body, but it results more from the visual of Dean caressing him rather than the touch itself. And in the end, it only gets him half-hard, nothing more.
Sam sighs in frustration and tells Dean to stop. It’s an incredibly hard week for both of them.
After one week, Sam’s sense of touch suddenly comes back.
***
During the sixth week Sam’s senses come back. All of them.
It feels like a firework and everything around him feels louder and more intense and brighter and tastier and softer. Already a gentle whisper of Dean’s voice gets him hard, so does the slightest scent of Dean when the wind blows the right direction or the sight of a tiny bit of flesh when Dean’s shirt rides up and even the briefest kiss is intense like nothing else. But the best is probably the stolen touches in between, the soft caresses and bashful strokes.
It’s going to be a good week.