Supernatural, The Sky Was Full of Wings, 5/5
Title: The Sky Was Full of Wings 5/5
Author:
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean/OFC, Dean/OMC. Sam/Dean/OFC, Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 33,794
Kink: Primary: Age Regression
Notes/Warnings: incest, graphic het sex, graphic M/M sex, dub-con, incest, threesomes, moresomes, voyeurism, oral sex (het & M/M), abduction, rimming, barebacking, blood play, bondage, collaring, orgasm denial, knife play, light D's, submission, marking, biting, first time, bonding. SPECIAL THANKS: to my betas, who were awesome to take this on tru_faith_lost & twivamp92 Any remaining errors are mine.
Summary: While working a case Dean is stolen by the Autumn Queen of the Fae to be her consort. During his time there he is aged regressed, loses his memories, and is a sexual bargaining chip. Sam must rescue him before the ritual sacrifice. He must offer boons to the court for Dean's release. Sam makes a bargain that he must fulfill or both Dean and he will be lost to the Fae. Neither Sam or Dean will leave fairy unchanged.
Artist: Thanks to last minute pinch hit artist musingdarkly & thanks to lightthesparks for additional art work. See all her pieces here.
PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5
Sam might lose his mind, even though he was pretty sure you couldn’t go insane from lusting after your brother. Sometimes it was like Dean wasn’t even Dean anymore. Sam didn’t know if it was the hormones or leftover fairy effects, but Dean was completely incapable of keeping his emotions hidden. When Dean looked at him like he was a shiny new gun, backstage passes to Metallica, and sex on legs rolled into a giant Sammy package, Sam’s heart unraveled and wrapped itself around Dean.
Two days on the road and another two with Bobby, while Bobby did every test he could to see if Dean or Sam had been changed beyond the obvious while in fairy. Two days of Dean strutting around like living temptation, made Sam realize he hadn’t even seen half of Dean’s moves.
Dean had respected their truce, never pushing directly, even when they curled together at night to sleep. But that didn’t stop Dean from tormenting, teasing, and never letting Sam forget, for even a blink, what Dean wanted. A hand lingering too long on his arm, the small of his back, his shoulder. Leaning over during research to ask what Sam was looking at, breath fanning over his cheek. Smoky hot looks from underneath eyelashes that broadcast a language of dirty talk that was all Dean. Sam’s resistance was crumbling fast, reasoning being pushed out by white hot lust and a raging hard on that jerking off every day, sometimes twice a day, was doing little to relieve.
Now, Sam didn’t have any more excuses. Bobby had declared them as clean as anyone else on the planet.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed in the small room Bobby kept for guests, a room slightly larger than the queen bed that took up most of the space. Bobby had finished the last ritual that morning, and Dean wanted to catch a shower. Sam was waiting for him, because they needed to talk.
Dean entered the room and Sam looked up, the words he’d prepared rolling out his brain along with all his blood cells. Dean was dripping wet, towel slung low over his hips, and as soon as he closed the door, the towel hit the floor. Sam swallowed and forgot his own name. His brother didn’t play fair.
Dean's cock was hard and red and aimed right at Sam. He leaned back against the door letting Sam look and once he’d decided Sam had gotten an eye full, he started prowling towards Sam, cat like grace in every movement.
Sam moved. Quick. Off the bed. Sam’s will power was vanishing at the same rate as Dean’s advancement.
Sam grabbed a pair of Dean’s boxer briefs and tossed them blindly in Dean’s direction.
“Put those on and sit down. We need to talk.” He heard Dean’s sigh and shuffling sounds.
“Okay you shrinking flower, all my tricky bits are covered.” Sam could see Dean’s ‘you are such a girl’ face without needing to turn around. By the time he turned back, Dean had changed his expression back to predatory and made no pretense of the fact that he was checking Sam out as he walked back and sat on the bed, as far from Dean as he could manage without falling off.
“C’mon Sam, Bobby gave us a clean bill of health.” Dean was up, starting to crawl closer to Sam. Sam could see the drops of water still clinging to his brother’s chest and his entire head seemed to be consumed with images of his tongue lapping them off while Dean wiggled underneath him.
“Sit,” Sam said. Surprisingly, Dean did.
Sam ran a hand through his hair, trying for the right words. Words that wouldn’t hurt, couldn’t be twisted. “Dean, this will change everything.”
“I’m not actually sixteen here. I know.”
“You could start over, you know. Have a life without all of this.” Sam waved his hands indicating, well, basically their whole fucked up lives.
Dean moved a little closer, one hand on Sam’s knee, “Normal was never my dream. Everything I want is right here.”
Sam knew that was as close to an admission as Dean was likely to make of his feelings.
Sam carefully wrapped his hand around Dean’s and watched his eyes flare with hope, until Sam moved the hand back to the bed.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
Sam watched the light drain from Dean; his smile vanished, and his eyes were flat. Sam couldn’t bear that, he just couldn’t.
“Look I’m not saying ‘no’ okay.”
“Sure feels that way.”
“I just need some time, Dean. You can give me time, right?”
Dean jumped off the bed, shoved on jeans and a tee while Sam just gaped. Dean hurtled towards the door, stopping with his fingers wrapped, white knuckled around the handle, chest heaving and turned back towards Sam.
“You know what? Screw you, Sam.” Dean’s voice was low and angry. Dean raised an arm across his face, and Sam knew he was brushing away tears. When he brought the arm down, Dean’s eyes were glistening, but his voice was tight and hard when he said, “Take all the time you need.”
Dean stormed from the room, flinging the door back on its hinges. Dean might not actually have been sixteen, but he was sure acting like it.
Sam lay back on the bed thinking. As much as Sam wanted to give in to this, he knew he had to be strong this time. If he caved, everything changed, and for him it wouldn’t be something he’d grow out of. What he was feeling was never going to change. He was in love with Dean when he was twelve, and he was going to be in love with Dean when he was sixty. Yeah, he’d tried to run from it, be normal, find someone else, but everything always came back to Dean.
He knew that Dean was still twenty-nine in every way that really mattered, but this mess made Sam feel like the older brother. Dean had never been good at thinking things through, and now he was even more volatile than ever. Emotionally, hormonally Dean was in a sixteen-year-old body. Dean had a whole new identity thanks to Bobby, and maybe in a few years, once the whole seals/Lilith/apocalypse mess was behind them, Dean would decide fucking his brother wasn’t what he wanted anymore.
Right on top of that were Sam’s own feelings of perversion. Maybe Dean wasn't sixteen, but he sure as hell looked sixteen, and while that might have been okay in another dimension, it sure as hell was perverted here. Sam felt like some kind of pedophile, and all it took was a look, and he was half-hard for Dean. His reasoning mind reminded him, he’d never looked at another boy that way, not since he had been one himself.
While things had been pretty messed up recently, with Dean’s breaking in hell and his own addiction to demon blood, they could still get back to that brotherly bond they’ve always shared. But, if they did this, and Dean changed his mind, Sam would shatter, and nothing would ever be the same.
Sam was torn; reason told him it was a bad idea, but his heart wanted to pull Dean in tight and never let go.
Dean stomped past Bobby trying to head out the door, but Bobby clamped a hand onto his forearm. Dean wanted to take a swing, but he was pretty sure, in that body, Bobby could take him.
“What’s going on, Dean?”
Dean swallowed, fighting back what wanted to spill from his mouth, not wanting to shock Bobby into a premature heart attack. “I want - “ He managed not to say it, thankfully.
Bobby pulled on his cap. “Oh It’s clear enough what you want, Dean.”
Dean tried his hardest to offer a blank expression but knew it was something between shocked and pitiful that Bobby saw.
Bobby sighed. “Dean you can’t keep nothin’ off your face anymore. You get angry, it’s there. You get hurt, it’s there. When you look at Sam - “
“Stop!” Dean had a pretty good idea exactly what his face looked like when he looked at Sam, and he was not discussing it with Bobby.
Dean knew Bobby had tested him completely already, but maybe there was something he’d missed. “Really, there’s no spell? Nothing you could find?” His voice sounded pathetically young, even to himself.
“Nothin’ Dean. I know this is hard -“
“Hard? Fuck Bobby I was better at hiding things when I was really sixteen. It can’t all be hormones.”
“Well it ain’t a spell or nothing that can be removed. It’s all you Dean. You were changed a lot in fairy, not to mention that partin’ gift the fairy queen said she had for you.”
“You got any idea yet what that might have been?”
“Yeah I do, but I want to wait and talk to you boys together. Why don’t you make yourself scarce for awhile? Impala needs a tune up, doesn’t she?”
Dean made his way out to the yard, his thoughts tumbling around. He was glad to have something to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied, pretty sure if he couldn’t work something out with Sam soon he might just explode, whether from anger or horniness he wasn’t sure.
Sam made his way down to the kitchen where Bobby was getting some sandwiches together. Sam thought about whether he could really talk to Bobby about this.
When Sam asked after Dean, Bobby explained he was giving the Impala a tune up in the yard and would be at it for an hour or so. Sam asked for a beer, something to turn his attention to, distract him from his thoughts.
He asked Bobby, “You got a minute?”
“Get me a beer while you’re at it and have a seat, Sam,” Bobby said.
Sam sat for awhile, not even sure how to start the conversation. He picked away at the label on the bottle, darting his eyes between Bobby and the table.
Bobby saved him from having to speak first, “So, Dean doing okay?”
“It’s hard Bobby.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair and thought about just dropping the whole thing, because really, there was no good way to talk someone about having sex with your brother.
“I’d imagine it is. You boy’s have been through a hard time. More hard times to come. Guess it’s good you got each other.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“Damn it, Sam. You ain’t even considerin’ leavin’ Dean are ya?”
“No! It’s just, I don’t know if I can be the person he wants me to be.” ‘Chicken shit.’ He thought to himself.
“Glad to hear you ain’t leavin’ ‘cause the way Dean looks at you, it’d crush him.”
“I-, I-,” Sam knew his mouth was opening and closing but nothing was coming out.
“Shut it, Sam. I’m not blind. I got eyes, and I can see exactly how you two are with each other. Jus’ didn’t think it was any of my business, but since you’re here, well, guess I’ll say my peace.” Bobby squinted at him, giving Sam a long hard stare.
“You boys always been close. In fact,” now Bobby started to look uncomfortable, seeming to find the gold flecks in the cracked Formica of the table fascinating, “I kind of always assumed…” Bobby let the sentence trail off.
“Jesus, Bobby, we’re brothers.” Sam’s protest was more breathy whisper than outraged exclamation.
“Yep, and I always told your daddy you were too damn close. Hell, I ain’t the only one to think it, boy. Just ain’t natural the things you two done for each other. Dying, selling your soul, throwin’ yourself in front of anything that comes after the other.”
“Who - “
“Don’t matter who thought it Sam. Just sayin’, ain’t just me. Guess it weren’t true before or you wouldn’t be sittin’ hear havin’ a moral crisis now would ya?”
“Jesus, Bobby, you can’t think this is a good idea?”
“What boy, you want me to talk you out of sleepin’ with your brother? Well, hate to disappoint you. I ain’t goin’ to tell you it’s okay, but you two are so wrapped in each other, I don’t really see you ever makin’ it work with anyone else. You’re grown men, Sam.”
Sam tried to cut him off again
“Sam, Dean only looks sixteen. We both know he’s still full-grown inside. This sure as hell isn’t what I’d want for you boys, but I think you know you passed normal a few years back. I ain’t gonna judge you either. You ain’t hurtin’ no one, and it ain’t gonna be easy, but you both deserve some happiness. Even a blind man could see you're good for each other, good to each other.
Bobby’s voice dropped and Sam had to lean in to hear.
“Not everyone gets to have that.” Bobby passed a hand across his neck. “This heart-to-heart done with now?
Sam found a smile from somewhere to send at Bobby, but it was forced.
“I know this is ‘bout as far from perfect as it gets, Sam, but you really want to throw it away?”
Sam thought about it. Put that bluntly, no, he really didn’t. He’d never wanted anything quite as much as he wanted to be with Dean. Now it was just trusting Dean to know his own mind.
“Thanks, Bobby.”
“Always ready to lend an ear Sam. Nothin’s gonna change that.”
Dean landed next to Sam on the couch and looked at Bobby, waiting a bit impatiently. Sam was picking at the frayed fabric on the armrest, plucking out threads and studiously looking at Bobby’s carpet.
“Okay, I think I got a handle on what Gwenoch might have done.”
Sam sat up a little, and his eyes brightened, “Yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I need you two to scooch in closer and hold hands.”
Dean shot Sam a wary glance, not sure how Sam was going to react. He watched his brother sigh and shift over half the space between them. Dean moved in as well and grabbed Sam’s hand. He couldn’t resist sliding the pad of his thumb across Sam’s palm and was smug when he felt his brother shiver.
Bobby sat across from them with a large tome that wasn’t Latin or English, but Dean wasn’t sure what language it was.
“Phoenician.” Sam said. Dean shot Sam a startled look. He knew he hadn’t spoken out loud.
Bobby was looking hard at Sam, too.
“What?” Sam asked, head swiveling between the two.
“Why’d you say that, about it being Phoenician?” Dean asked.
Sam turned a confused look on Dean and shrugged, “I’m not sure. Didn’t you want to know?”
“I never said it out loud.”
“Huh.”
Dean shook his head, not sure what was going on. They both looked at Bobby. Bobby let his gaze wander back and forth between the two.
“Hm…” Bobby said, “Kind of confirms my suspicions, let me do the ritual and we’ll know for sure.
Bobby placed one of his hands over Sam and Dean’s and started chanting. Dean didn’t notice anything at first, but then small tendrils of blue light rose from the left side of Sam’s chest and Dean looked down to see green ones rising from his own. Sam looked like he was trying to puzzle things out. When the two colors wound together over their heads, Sam’s mouth formed a small ‘o’. Bobby stopped chanting, and the light faded.
Dean turned to Bobby, “Well?”
“You two are bound.”
“What?” Sam and Dean exclaimed together. Dean pulled his hand from Sam’s and hoped Bobby had more to add.
“Gwenoch bound you.”
“What does that means, exactly?” Sam asked. Dean hoped it was coincidence that he was thinking exactly the same thing.
“Literature’s not clear,” Bobby said rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Could be anything from just bein’ able to find each other in the dark, to actually readin’ each other’s minds.”
“Would it cause - “ Sam didn’t finish the thought, but Dean knew even without the binding what Sam was driving at. He hoped Bobby did too without one of them actually having to say it.
“Nope.” Bobby said. “Can’t make you feel things you don’t. Just opens you up to the other person, makes it hard to keep things hidden.”
“Can you break it?” Dean asked. He was freaked out, uncertain whether this was a good thing or bad.
“Nope, and don’t know anyone who can. High court fairy magic. Anything that might break it isn’t somethin’ I’d wanna mess with. My guess is, it will evolve, but I can’t even tell you that much, really. I did make up a list here of things you can do to test the bond. There’s also a number for a couple of psychics who can probably help you learn to shield.”
“Appreciate it, Bobby,” Sam said, and Dean nodded his agreement.
Sam and Dean avoided each other the rest of the day. Sam spent the day inside researching anything that might have to do with bonding.
Dean, well Dean had a plan. He was tired of waiting and needed to keep Sam off balance so he wouldn’t have time to think.
Dean had spotted the old, flat bed truck; with the slatted wooden sides at the far side of Bobby’s yard. It was perfect, far enough from the house and with plenty of room for what Dean had in mind.
He filled the bed up with straw from the barn and pulled the blankets and quilts from the bed in his and Sam’s room. He arranged the bedding over the straw, making a comfy pallet. Dean snooped around Bobby’s, hoping not to have to run into town, and finally found what he was looking for tucked away in the linen closet. Several more blankets, pillows and throw pillows. The final touch, two lanterns from the barn that actually functioned, which he hung from the window on the back of the cab.
When Dean observed his handiwork, he was proud of what he’d accomplished. More importantly, he was sure that it would appeal to Sam.
Bobby made burgers for dinner, which they enjoyed with salad and a couple of beers. Bobby had rented a couple of movies but Dean declined for both of them, dragging Sam outside, with the excuse that they needed to talk, which was not far from the truth.
“Dean -” Sam started to talk the minute they were out the door, but Dean wanted to do this his way. His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his jeans. He wanted to take Sam’s hand, but actually doing it was weird, so he didn’t.
“Look, Sam, just follow me okay?”
Dean heard the pissy sigh at his back and knew without looking that Sam’s lips would be pursed into some version of the bitch face.
Dean led them through the maze of Bobby’s junkyard ,and then they were at the truck. Sam was still behind him, and he kind of wanted to see his brother’s face, but he was scared of what it would reveal, so Dean stayed quiet, waiting.
“You did this? For me?” Sam asked.
Dean turned and looked up, then. It was still disconcerting how far he had to look up to meet Sam’s eyes.
“Dean - ”
“You said that already. Do you like it?”
Sam really looked at the truck, piled with blankets and pillows, bathed in the lantern light and the last rays of the day. His features softened, and his mouth tilted up at the corners.
“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”
Dean was looking at the ground, kicking his foot in the dirt, trying like hell not to say something that would make him sound like a girl.
Sam clapped him on the shoulder, and Dean looked up. “It’s really great.” Sam was really smiling at him now, that smile that turned Dean inside out.
“Come here, Sam.” Dean pulled Sam up on the bed of the truck and into the cushions, until they sat facing each other.
“ I want this, want us, want you, Sam.”
Dean didn’t try to hide anything, locking his gaze to Sam’s.
“I want this, too.” Sam’s tone was low, lacking conviction.
“You feel guilty,” Dean stated.
“You’re sixteen, Dean.”
“It’s just a body Sam. Inside, I’m still me. This,” Dean waved his arms down his body, “it’s like a tuxedo or something. I look really hot in it, but it isn’t me. Of all people, I thought you’d get that.”
Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Sammy, it’s okay if you get off on it.” Sam looked at him then, eyes full of shock and a hint of self-loathing. “Dude, I get off on it, too. Knowing what you could do to me, trusting you not to take it too far-- it’s really hot.” Dean delivered the last from beneath his bangs, feeling the heat creeping up his chest and neck.
It was clear from Sam’s expression that this line of reasoning wasn’t working. “Look, I want to try something, okay?”
Dean put out both of his hands and said, “Give me your hands.” Dean swallowed. He’d never been comfortable with touchy-feely stuff, and this went so far beyond that. He didn’t even know if would work. Dean had never thought of himself as a coward, but as reluctant as he was convincing Sam meant everything. Sam put his hands in Dean’s with a head tilt and furrowed brow, questioning what Dean had in mind.
Dean took a deep breath and let it back out, tongue working across his lower lip. “I don’t know if this will work. Bobby’s list said we might be able to project our thoughts and feelings.”
“Dean you don’t have - ”
Dean cut Sam off. “Want to. I called a psychic friend of Bobby’s and she said you need to relax and let me in, mentally. Keep your eyes on mine, okay?
Sam nodded. Dean shook out his arms and cracked his neck, then concentrated. He thought about all the ways he had been thinking about Sam. The times he would steal looks, too long touches, jealousy of Sam’s relationships, masturbation fantasies, eyes locked to Sam’s, he opened his mind and put it all out there, imagining his thoughts flowing into Sam.
Sam gasped, eyes wide. “How long, Dean?”
Dean looked down to see Sam that their hands were clasped around wrists now and Sam was etching fingerprints into Dean’s skin.
Dean called up one particular image, the first time he remembered seeing Sam that way. Sam was about thirteen. Sam had helped him wash the Impala and he was bronze skin, denim cut-offs and soaked white tee stretched over developing muscles. Sam’s lanky limbs were everywhere, and his smile stretched to the sky as he held his arm out to Dean, warding off the prism glinted spray of the hose that Dean had turned on him.
Sam’s eyes were wet, and Dean saw that he was getting through loud and clear.
Dean opened up his heart completely, desire, love, want, projecting all the things he would never have words for. Dean lay himself bare, letting Sam see it all, belonging, need, lust and home. This is it, only you, always, forever, mine. Flashes of fairy, canopy of rainbow wings and Sam sinking into him, perfect, right, kisses and touches. Loved, protected, partner, trust, sighing surrender and shuddering touch, you and I, Sam and Dean, always us, together.
He and Sam had pulled even closer, tighter. Dean’s legs were splayed over Sam’s lap and they were holding elbows now, grips tight. Sam’s eyes were shining, filled with love, and then, Dean felt the push back and relaxed into it, letting Sam into him, the way he was in Sam, seeing, feeling what was inside of his brother.
Safe, harbor, home and love swept into him. Images of him at sixteen, sun kissed, legs spread cocking a gun at a target. Freckled nose, throat, ear, arms, shower fresh, and towel wrapped. Snapshot clicks of curved lips and white teeth, eating strawberries and dripping juice, hands gripped firm around the wheel of the Impala, non-quantifiable number of lips kissed, hands held, back-against-back, lust and ragged yearning.
Watching from a bus window, watching himself become smaller and smaller on the horizon, sorrow, regret, sorry, never again. First kiss, flights of wings, trust you, want this, filthy raw need, always yours, always love you, be there, you and me, love.
Sam’s hands ran up Dean’s arms cupping his face with his hands. He brought his mouth to Dean’s, slow, soft, open over the top lip, then bottom and Dean rose into it, pressing back. Dean trembled, raw and vulnerable, and begged with his mouth for Sam to take him apart. Sam licked across his lower lip, and then it was wide-open mouths, wet slippery kisses, tongues thrusting in imitation of what they both wanted. Passion rose, and the feedback loop faded, images lost, but the feelings and touches kept skipping there and back again.
Dean was sitting in Sam’s lap, his legs wrapped around Sam as Sam worked his mouth down the side of his jaw. Scrape of teeth and lash of tongue as Sam worked his way to the sensitive spot behind his ear. Dean’s skin tingled where Sam was grazing it, just above his waistband, slow glide of thumb, flutter of fingertips. Dean’s breath caught, tripping as he tipped his head, letting Sam have better access to his neck.
“God Dean, want to put my mouth all over every inch of your skin.” Sam sucked the patch of skin into his mouth that he’d been kissing, worrying at it with his teeth, drawing blood to the surface until it was just close to painful. Dean heard himself, keening noises falling from his lips.
“So good Sammy.” Dean ran one hand up under Sam’s shirt and twined the other into his hair, strands silk in his grip.
Sam pulled back with a low growl, which went straight to Dean’s cock, making it impossibly harder, his jeans uncomfortably tight. Sam’s hands were still dancing over Dean’s skin, taunting, driving him crazy with unfulfilled promise.
“Gonna go so slow, Dean, make you nuts. Mark you everywhere, make you forget everything but my name.”
Dean was pretty sure that was already the case, as he arched into Sam, clinging, a whirlwind of emotion.
“Arms up, Dean.” Dean lifted his arms, and Sam’s hands skimmed across his skin as he lifted the tee over Dean’s head. Sparks skittered on Dean’s skin, fueling the fire in his belly, making him writhe against Sam’s crotch with his hips, erection painful behind his zipper.
Dean needed to feel all of Sam and brought his hand to Sam’s waist, pushed at his shirt until Sam’s chest was bare, beautiful skin, all his for the taking. Dean used the tip of his thumb and the slightest pressure from his thumb to trace across Sam’s scars. Four long jagged scratches across his belly from a harpy, and Dean traced each one, causing Sam’s breath to hitch and stomach to flutter. Dean mapped the red swirls at his ribs, the white arc under one nipple, each and every marred patch of skin, shared history on Sam’s body.
When Dean used his tongue on the jagged, raised, puckered, whiteness above the collarbone, it was Sam’s turn to tremble under Dean, grinding their dicks together to get relief.
Sam’s breaths came ragged and fast, his forehead damp where it rested against Dean’s.
“Pants, off now,” Sam said. Dean agreed and they scrambled up, tossing shoes, socks, pants and briefs out of the way.
When they were naked, Sam’s heated gaze dragged across Dean’s skin. Everything Sam was feeling echoed in Dean. He knew Sam was going to eat at his skin until there wasn’t a place on Dean that wasn’t marked, ‘property of Sam Winchester.’ Dean thought maybe he should protest, but he wanted it too, and it was no less than the truth. He was Sam’s, every part of him.
When Sam moved it was a blur, hands all over Dean, grabbing his ass, lifting him, and oh holy fuck, there was no way those tiny whimpers were coming out of his mouth. Pliant and loose, Dean clung to Sam, arms around his neck, legs around his waist as Sam lowered him to their makeshift bed.
Sam over him, surrounding him, on him and Dean pushed up into him, not close enough, never close enough. Cocks sliding together and never ending skin touching skin, sensation everywhere. Dean knew he was shaking but couldn’t stop, consumed by his need and the reciprocating feelings from Sam. Nothing had ever felt like this, like he was going to combust, overload and fly out of himself.
Sam shifted, sliding to the side, and Dean mewled, grabbing every inch of Sam he could touch. “Shh, Dean I got you.” Sam leaned over him, large hands that could break him, stroking down his side, soothing, and Dean’s heart slowed, panted breaths evening out.
Dean buried his head in Sam’s shoulder, “God, Sam, it’s so intense. Want you so much. Can feel you wanting me.” Sam kept up the slow strokes with his hand, fingers curved, pressing into Dean’s ribs.
“Me, too. I’m sensing what you feel.” Dean raised his eyes to Sam’s, and what he saw there caused his stomach to unfurl, fluttering, stretching out and opening his heart.
Hazel eyes so familiar but so different now that they were full of Sam’s love, desire, want, reverence. Dean didn’t know if he saw all that there or Sam was feeding it to him through their connection, but it was intoxicating, and Dean never wanted to be sober again.
Sam brought a hand up to cup Dean’s jaw, thumb tipped to his lip, and Dean opened his mouth, flicked his tongue against it, satisfied as Sam groaned and ground against his hip, slick pre-come painting his thigh. Sam’s lips moved over his and his tongue twined with Dean’s, learned the ridges at the roof of his mouth, flicked over teeth, eating, devouring, taking, and Dean surrendered himself, pulling Sam in and sucking at his tongue.
Sam had one hand under Dean's head the other skimming over ribs and belly. Sam’s mouth over his again and then again, sweet deep kisses bright with possibility, brimming with filthy promise. Dean couldn’t stop his hips from rising in small circles, while his hands carded into Sam’s hair.
“I could do this all night, Dean. Kiss you”
“Well I’m pretty sure I couldn’t, not if you want to be inside me when I come.”
“Fuck, Dean.” Sam’s voice was raw, dark smoke.
Sam worked his mouth down Dean’s neck, a trail of spit slick kisses and bites, careful not to leave visible marks. Once Sam had moved down past the hollow dip at Dean’s throat, he pulled hard at the skin next to Dean’s collarbone. Dean’s blood moving, a tide rising with the scrape of teeth against his neck. Sam’s mouth pulling him to the precipice where pleasure flipped into pain, and Dean encouraged him with a stream of, ‘Sam, right there, yes,’ with every touch. Nothing existed for Dean except where he was coiled into and centered under his brother’s mouth. Sam sucked in a nipple and white hot sparks shot straight to his cock, Dean’s hips snapped up, back curving as Sam broke him apart and remade him.
Dean relished every single bit of the pain knowing that his skin would bloom with bruises, a canvas of purples, blacks, and yellows, and he would wear Sam on him for as long as they lasted, visible proof of their connection. Dean couldn’t think anymore, a needy mess, as Sam worked down his chest and belly, a trail of sparks and tinder left in his wake.
Sam bit down hard on the delicate skin at his hipbone, tip of the tongue soothing the sting and Dean’s cock leaked in response. When Sam moved his mouth over Dean and licked the drops away, Dean wondered why they hadn’t been doing this forever. As if Sam read his mind, and maybe he had, “Could’ve been…why’d we wait so long?”
Sam licked along the crown, pulled at the sensitive nerves at the back with his tongue and Dean whined, forced himself to stillness waiting for what Sam would give him, whatever Sam wanted. Sam engulfed his cock in slick wet heat and Dean knew he’d never felt anything better, and he wanted to live a long, long time, and spend the better part of it buried in his brother’s mouth. Sam swallowed and sucked Dean’s cock, wet heat and star shot heaven. Dean pushed up on his elbows, nearly losing it when he saw his brother’s mouth wrapped around him, eyes dark as he looked up at Dean from under his lashes. Dean felt his balls tighten up, and Sam pulled off. Dean collapsed with a groan.
“Not yet, Dean. You’re not coming until I’m buried inside you. Maybe I won’t even touch you.” Sam lay with his cheek against Dean’s thigh, one finger idly stroked the skin at his stomach. That touch, so close to where Dean wanted it, and Sam’s hot breath moist across Dean’s dick was pure torment.
“Fuck you.”
“Mmmm. More like I’m gonna fuck you. What do you think? Think I can make you come on my cock alone Dean, make you beg for it?”
“God, Sam, you got a dirty mouth on you.” Dean could hear the gravel in his voice. He’d had no idea his brother could spout such filth or that Dean would find it such a turn on and the thing that made it even more scorching was the absolute look of pure innocence Sam was turning on him, liked a choir boy who’d never heard of sex. “You gonna talk, or you gonna make me beg, Sam?”
Sam tossed him a grin before he moved his mouth down, pushing one of Dean’s knees to his chest. He licked across Dean’s sac and teased a trail over the sensitive area below, circling his hole, then licking over it, and the sounds falling out of Dean’s mouth would've embarrassed him if he wasn’t too far gone to care. Then that wet slickness was pushing inside him, and Dean pulled his leg back to give Sam better access, totally okay with how wanton and exposed he knew he must look. It was better than anything, because this was Sam and Sam’s fucking amazing tongue. Sam thrust inside him, quick short flicks, then long, slow pull out and ‘Sam, Saaahhmm, please, Sammy,’ tumbled out of his mouth.
Sam slid one long finger in next to his tongue and Dean squirmed. Sam fucked him on his finger and his tongue, and Dean cursed, begged, shameless with need. When a second finger, slick with more that spit now, joined the first, Sam moved them apart and together, twisting until he was stroking across Dean’s prostate, tongue still flicking inside, and Dean gibbered, whined, flailed, lost to his brother’s hands and tongue.
“Please Sam, now, need you.”
Sam pulled out of him and Dean was empty, needing Sam, wanting to be filled. Sam crawled up his body, mouth tracing over his skin as he worked his way up. Sam was over him and liberally applied lube to himself, cock hard and beautiful. Sam positioned himself, right there, slick cock head poised at Dean’s entrance and Sam’s lips came down on his, a soft downy touch, combined with a current of emotion, gentle, tender, protective, every sweet thing a kiss could be.
“Always you Dean, always was, always will be.”
“Me too, Sammy.”
Dean surged up as Sam thrust down. Hot fast slide so fucking good. Pain and pleasure, alive and together, right where they were supposed to be. Sam’s balls hit his ass, and Dean felt every single inch of his brother’s cock buried in him. Heartbeats thumping, stutter jumping where their chests pressed together. Sam’s arms strained, corded and bulging where he held himself over Dean, and a white hot bolt of lust shot through Dean when he wrapped his hands around them, felt those arms, strength and sheer muscle.
Sam’s hair hung over eyes blown dark, god so fucking beautiful. It wound around Dean’s heart, lashed tight, and something welled up in Dean, tried to force it’s way out through his eyes and his mouth. Nothing had ever been this right, this perfect.
Sam moved, and the world fell away, all that was left, them pulsing in perfect rhythm, pressed as close as they could be, trying to be closer. Sam was hitting Dean's prostate with every stroke, his dick sliding against Sam’s belly, being folded into Sam, surrounded by him, all that Dean had ever wanted. Dean’s orgasm hit him by surprise, balls rising, head rush of black orange burst behind his eyes, sticky wet between them. Sam stuttered as Dean pulsed around him, meaningless sounds and ‘oh, Dean, God.’ Sam arched above him, coming inside, marking Dean from within.
Sam dropped his head to Dean’s and pulled out slowly. He leaned over his brother, hands moving over, tracing, worshipping, touching eyes and nose, cheeks and lips. Dean’s hands stroked up and down Sam’s back, sweat hot skin under his fingertips. Unspoken devotion in every flickering touch, finally resting. Even with Sam’s forehead pressed to his, Dean could still see it when Sam smiled, a laugh huffed against his lips.
Sam rolled over, pulling Dean on top of him, sealed their lips in a kiss, laughter still seeping around the edges. Dean smiled back, heart swollen, seeing Sam like this, joyful, relaxed, brighter than a nova.
Dean shifted to the side, grabbed a t-shirt and cleaned them off. Sam manhandled Dean until Dean’s back was tight against his brother’s chest. Dean’s dick gave an interested twitch. Apparently, he wasn’t going to grow tired of that anytime soon. One of Sam’s arms under his neck, the other flung over his waist, hand splayed across Dean’s chest, anchor and protector.
Dean drifted into sleep, stars a canopy over his head, Sam’s heartbeat the ground beneath him.
After they said their good-byes to Bobby, Dean slipped into the Impala right behind Sam. Sam got another one of those flashbacks, Dean at sixteen the first time around, right after Dad gave him the car. Dean’s hand gliding down the side of her, caressing the hot blackness of the finish, reverent touch to the seat as he slid in, and sure grip as he took the wheel in his hands, face lit bright enough to blind. Sam, right on the precipice between hero worship and first love.
In the now, Dean seemed barely old enough to be driving, but the sight punched Sam’s gut the same way it had when he’d been twelve.
Dean seemed to be getting that thought straight from Sam, and he turned his eyes to his brother. Sam would have sworn it wasn’t possible, but the smile got brighter and wider. Then Dean was fisting his hand into the front of Sam’s shirt and pulling him across the seat. Sam didn’t resist, sliding over, eyelids dropping, hands reaching for Dean’s shoulders, which still felt oddly small, delicate under his palms.
Dean’s other hand reached around behind Sam’s neck, grazing into his hair and tugging to pull Sam where he wanted him. When Sam felt Dean’s lips against his own, he groaned deep into his brother’s mouth and wrapped one hand around Dean’s waist the other behind his shoulders, and practically pulled him into his lap. Every fiber in Sam’s body leapt at the fact that he could take control of Dean like this. The little whimpers falling from Dean’s lips, told Sam his brother was getting off on it, too and that made Sam’s cock twitch, despite the fact that Dean had sucked him off in the shower less than an hour ago.
Sam twisted and pulled until Dean straddled him and couldn’t resist gliding both hands down Dean’s back until he was cupping his ass. Dean moaned and did this wiggling body roll that was obscene and completely got Sam going. Sam saw the span of freckled skin where Dean’s neck stretched out and pulled Dean to his mouth. He clamped his teeth over the tendon at Dean’s neck and pulled the flesh into his mouth until he was sure there would be a mark later. Not so worried about what would show now that Bobby would not have to witness the results.
“Fuck, Sammy.” Dean’s hands ran up under Sam’s shirt, over his chest and twisted his nipples and Sam’s hips stuttered as he bit down hard enough to leave teeth marks. Sam pulled away and clamped both of his hands over Dean’s.
“We better stop, before we traumatize Bobby.”
Sam leaned his head back, trying to catch his breath and talk his erection down. Then he felt the hot warm wetness at the base of his neck, shivered as Dean’s rough tongue went up his neck to the soft skin behind his ear.
Deans put his lips right to the flesh on his ear and whispered, “Love this, Sam. Love knowing I can do this to you. So goddamn sexy.”
Sam’s heart thudded against Dean’s palm, and he could feel Dean’s pulse beating in time with his where Dean’s jaw nestled at his neck.
Sam wrapped one hand around Dean’s neck and pulled him back enough to look into his eyes. Sam couldn’t resist moving his palm around, cupping Dean’s jaw and brushing his thumb over his lower lip. Dean sucked Sam’s thumb in and nipped at the pad, and Sam couldn’t stifle the moan coming out of his mouth. Dean’s eyes twinkled with the knowledge of exactly how he affected his brother.
“Jerk,” Sam said. It came out low and growled and full of filthy promise.
“Yeah, but you love me anyway, bitch.” Dean replied with a cheeky smile as he moved over and got behind the wheel.
Sam grabbed Dean’s hand, twined his fingers into Dean’s and brought the palm to his lips. He moved his tongue from the palm all the way to soft web of flesh at the index finger and wiggled against the skin there. Sam felt completely satisfied as Dean’s eyes glazed over, pupils blown.
“Yeah, Dean, I do, love you.” Sam knew Dean needed to hear it and without warning that same rush of love came back to him through the connection he and Dean shared. Sam dropped Dean’s hand and his brother turned the key in the ignition.
The rumble of the car was familiar, safe, and home. Every bit of tension in Sam’s body drained away as Dean headed out the drive and onto the highway.
Sam looked over at Dean, hair moving from the beating of the wind through the windows. The sounds of AC/DC pulsed out of the speakers. He put his hand across the back of the seat and laid it over Dean’s shoulder. Dean pressed into the touch and flashed Sam a smile, which splashed over him, blazing love and comfort. Despite the uncertainty of the future, Sam was thankful for what they had found. It wasn’t just the sex, which, considering teenage hormones might possibly kill him. It was the knowledge that this, right here, in this moment, everything he wanted or needed was sitting right next to him, held under his palm, solid and sure. Dean was his, and he was Dean’s; they were in this together and it was as close to perfect as he could imagine.
THE END, BACK TO 1
Author:
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean/OFC, Dean/OMC. Sam/Dean/OFC, Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 33,794
Kink: Primary: Age Regression
Notes/Warnings: incest, graphic het sex, graphic M/M sex, dub-con, incest, threesomes, moresomes, voyeurism, oral sex (het & M/M), abduction, rimming, barebacking, blood play, bondage, collaring, orgasm denial, knife play, light D's, submission, marking, biting, first time, bonding. SPECIAL THANKS: to my betas, who were awesome to take this on tru_faith_lost & twivamp92 Any remaining errors are mine.
Summary: While working a case Dean is stolen by the Autumn Queen of the Fae to be her consort. During his time there he is aged regressed, loses his memories, and is a sexual bargaining chip. Sam must rescue him before the ritual sacrifice. He must offer boons to the court for Dean's release. Sam makes a bargain that he must fulfill or both Dean and he will be lost to the Fae. Neither Sam or Dean will leave fairy unchanged.
Artist: Thanks to last minute pinch hit artist musingdarkly & thanks to lightthesparks for additional art work. See all her pieces here.
PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5
Sam might lose his mind, even though he was pretty sure you couldn’t go insane from lusting after your brother. Sometimes it was like Dean wasn’t even Dean anymore. Sam didn’t know if it was the hormones or leftover fairy effects, but Dean was completely incapable of keeping his emotions hidden. When Dean looked at him like he was a shiny new gun, backstage passes to Metallica, and sex on legs rolled into a giant Sammy package, Sam’s heart unraveled and wrapped itself around Dean.
Two days on the road and another two with Bobby, while Bobby did every test he could to see if Dean or Sam had been changed beyond the obvious while in fairy. Two days of Dean strutting around like living temptation, made Sam realize he hadn’t even seen half of Dean’s moves.
Dean had respected their truce, never pushing directly, even when they curled together at night to sleep. But that didn’t stop Dean from tormenting, teasing, and never letting Sam forget, for even a blink, what Dean wanted. A hand lingering too long on his arm, the small of his back, his shoulder. Leaning over during research to ask what Sam was looking at, breath fanning over his cheek. Smoky hot looks from underneath eyelashes that broadcast a language of dirty talk that was all Dean. Sam’s resistance was crumbling fast, reasoning being pushed out by white hot lust and a raging hard on that jerking off every day, sometimes twice a day, was doing little to relieve.
Now, Sam didn’t have any more excuses. Bobby had declared them as clean as anyone else on the planet.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed in the small room Bobby kept for guests, a room slightly larger than the queen bed that took up most of the space. Bobby had finished the last ritual that morning, and Dean wanted to catch a shower. Sam was waiting for him, because they needed to talk.
Dean entered the room and Sam looked up, the words he’d prepared rolling out his brain along with all his blood cells. Dean was dripping wet, towel slung low over his hips, and as soon as he closed the door, the towel hit the floor. Sam swallowed and forgot his own name. His brother didn’t play fair.
Dean's cock was hard and red and aimed right at Sam. He leaned back against the door letting Sam look and once he’d decided Sam had gotten an eye full, he started prowling towards Sam, cat like grace in every movement.
Sam moved. Quick. Off the bed. Sam’s will power was vanishing at the same rate as Dean’s advancement.
Sam grabbed a pair of Dean’s boxer briefs and tossed them blindly in Dean’s direction.
“Put those on and sit down. We need to talk.” He heard Dean’s sigh and shuffling sounds.
“Okay you shrinking flower, all my tricky bits are covered.” Sam could see Dean’s ‘you are such a girl’ face without needing to turn around. By the time he turned back, Dean had changed his expression back to predatory and made no pretense of the fact that he was checking Sam out as he walked back and sat on the bed, as far from Dean as he could manage without falling off.
“C’mon Sam, Bobby gave us a clean bill of health.” Dean was up, starting to crawl closer to Sam. Sam could see the drops of water still clinging to his brother’s chest and his entire head seemed to be consumed with images of his tongue lapping them off while Dean wiggled underneath him.
“Sit,” Sam said. Surprisingly, Dean did.
Sam ran a hand through his hair, trying for the right words. Words that wouldn’t hurt, couldn’t be twisted. “Dean, this will change everything.”
“I’m not actually sixteen here. I know.”
“You could start over, you know. Have a life without all of this.” Sam waved his hands indicating, well, basically their whole fucked up lives.
Dean moved a little closer, one hand on Sam’s knee, “Normal was never my dream. Everything I want is right here.”
Sam knew that was as close to an admission as Dean was likely to make of his feelings.
Sam carefully wrapped his hand around Dean’s and watched his eyes flare with hope, until Sam moved the hand back to the bed.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
Sam watched the light drain from Dean; his smile vanished, and his eyes were flat. Sam couldn’t bear that, he just couldn’t.
“Look I’m not saying ‘no’ okay.”
“Sure feels that way.”
“I just need some time, Dean. You can give me time, right?”
Dean jumped off the bed, shoved on jeans and a tee while Sam just gaped. Dean hurtled towards the door, stopping with his fingers wrapped, white knuckled around the handle, chest heaving and turned back towards Sam.
“You know what? Screw you, Sam.” Dean’s voice was low and angry. Dean raised an arm across his face, and Sam knew he was brushing away tears. When he brought the arm down, Dean’s eyes were glistening, but his voice was tight and hard when he said, “Take all the time you need.”
Dean stormed from the room, flinging the door back on its hinges. Dean might not actually have been sixteen, but he was sure acting like it.
Sam lay back on the bed thinking. As much as Sam wanted to give in to this, he knew he had to be strong this time. If he caved, everything changed, and for him it wouldn’t be something he’d grow out of. What he was feeling was never going to change. He was in love with Dean when he was twelve, and he was going to be in love with Dean when he was sixty. Yeah, he’d tried to run from it, be normal, find someone else, but everything always came back to Dean.
He knew that Dean was still twenty-nine in every way that really mattered, but this mess made Sam feel like the older brother. Dean had never been good at thinking things through, and now he was even more volatile than ever. Emotionally, hormonally Dean was in a sixteen-year-old body. Dean had a whole new identity thanks to Bobby, and maybe in a few years, once the whole seals/Lilith/apocalypse mess was behind them, Dean would decide fucking his brother wasn’t what he wanted anymore.
Right on top of that were Sam’s own feelings of perversion. Maybe Dean wasn't sixteen, but he sure as hell looked sixteen, and while that might have been okay in another dimension, it sure as hell was perverted here. Sam felt like some kind of pedophile, and all it took was a look, and he was half-hard for Dean. His reasoning mind reminded him, he’d never looked at another boy that way, not since he had been one himself.
While things had been pretty messed up recently, with Dean’s breaking in hell and his own addiction to demon blood, they could still get back to that brotherly bond they’ve always shared. But, if they did this, and Dean changed his mind, Sam would shatter, and nothing would ever be the same.
Sam was torn; reason told him it was a bad idea, but his heart wanted to pull Dean in tight and never let go.
Dean stomped past Bobby trying to head out the door, but Bobby clamped a hand onto his forearm. Dean wanted to take a swing, but he was pretty sure, in that body, Bobby could take him.
“What’s going on, Dean?”
Dean swallowed, fighting back what wanted to spill from his mouth, not wanting to shock Bobby into a premature heart attack. “I want - “ He managed not to say it, thankfully.
Bobby pulled on his cap. “Oh It’s clear enough what you want, Dean.”
Dean tried his hardest to offer a blank expression but knew it was something between shocked and pitiful that Bobby saw.
Bobby sighed. “Dean you can’t keep nothin’ off your face anymore. You get angry, it’s there. You get hurt, it’s there. When you look at Sam - “
“Stop!” Dean had a pretty good idea exactly what his face looked like when he looked at Sam, and he was not discussing it with Bobby.
Dean knew Bobby had tested him completely already, but maybe there was something he’d missed. “Really, there’s no spell? Nothing you could find?” His voice sounded pathetically young, even to himself.
“Nothin’ Dean. I know this is hard -“
“Hard? Fuck Bobby I was better at hiding things when I was really sixteen. It can’t all be hormones.”
“Well it ain’t a spell or nothing that can be removed. It’s all you Dean. You were changed a lot in fairy, not to mention that partin’ gift the fairy queen said she had for you.”
“You got any idea yet what that might have been?”
“Yeah I do, but I want to wait and talk to you boys together. Why don’t you make yourself scarce for awhile? Impala needs a tune up, doesn’t she?”
Dean made his way out to the yard, his thoughts tumbling around. He was glad to have something to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied, pretty sure if he couldn’t work something out with Sam soon he might just explode, whether from anger or horniness he wasn’t sure.
Sam made his way down to the kitchen where Bobby was getting some sandwiches together. Sam thought about whether he could really talk to Bobby about this.
When Sam asked after Dean, Bobby explained he was giving the Impala a tune up in the yard and would be at it for an hour or so. Sam asked for a beer, something to turn his attention to, distract him from his thoughts.
He asked Bobby, “You got a minute?”
“Get me a beer while you’re at it and have a seat, Sam,” Bobby said.
Sam sat for awhile, not even sure how to start the conversation. He picked away at the label on the bottle, darting his eyes between Bobby and the table.
Bobby saved him from having to speak first, “So, Dean doing okay?”
“It’s hard Bobby.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair and thought about just dropping the whole thing, because really, there was no good way to talk someone about having sex with your brother.
“I’d imagine it is. You boy’s have been through a hard time. More hard times to come. Guess it’s good you got each other.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“Damn it, Sam. You ain’t even considerin’ leavin’ Dean are ya?”
“No! It’s just, I don’t know if I can be the person he wants me to be.” ‘Chicken shit.’ He thought to himself.
“Glad to hear you ain’t leavin’ ‘cause the way Dean looks at you, it’d crush him.”
“I-, I-,” Sam knew his mouth was opening and closing but nothing was coming out.
“Shut it, Sam. I’m not blind. I got eyes, and I can see exactly how you two are with each other. Jus’ didn’t think it was any of my business, but since you’re here, well, guess I’ll say my peace.” Bobby squinted at him, giving Sam a long hard stare.
“You boys always been close. In fact,” now Bobby started to look uncomfortable, seeming to find the gold flecks in the cracked Formica of the table fascinating, “I kind of always assumed…” Bobby let the sentence trail off.
“Jesus, Bobby, we’re brothers.” Sam’s protest was more breathy whisper than outraged exclamation.
“Yep, and I always told your daddy you were too damn close. Hell, I ain’t the only one to think it, boy. Just ain’t natural the things you two done for each other. Dying, selling your soul, throwin’ yourself in front of anything that comes after the other.”
“Who - “
“Don’t matter who thought it Sam. Just sayin’, ain’t just me. Guess it weren’t true before or you wouldn’t be sittin’ hear havin’ a moral crisis now would ya?”
“Jesus, Bobby, you can’t think this is a good idea?”
“What boy, you want me to talk you out of sleepin’ with your brother? Well, hate to disappoint you. I ain’t goin’ to tell you it’s okay, but you two are so wrapped in each other, I don’t really see you ever makin’ it work with anyone else. You’re grown men, Sam.”
Sam tried to cut him off again
“Sam, Dean only looks sixteen. We both know he’s still full-grown inside. This sure as hell isn’t what I’d want for you boys, but I think you know you passed normal a few years back. I ain’t gonna judge you either. You ain’t hurtin’ no one, and it ain’t gonna be easy, but you both deserve some happiness. Even a blind man could see you're good for each other, good to each other.
Bobby’s voice dropped and Sam had to lean in to hear.
“Not everyone gets to have that.” Bobby passed a hand across his neck. “This heart-to-heart done with now?
Sam found a smile from somewhere to send at Bobby, but it was forced.
“I know this is ‘bout as far from perfect as it gets, Sam, but you really want to throw it away?”
Sam thought about it. Put that bluntly, no, he really didn’t. He’d never wanted anything quite as much as he wanted to be with Dean. Now it was just trusting Dean to know his own mind.
“Thanks, Bobby.”
“Always ready to lend an ear Sam. Nothin’s gonna change that.”
Dean landed next to Sam on the couch and looked at Bobby, waiting a bit impatiently. Sam was picking at the frayed fabric on the armrest, plucking out threads and studiously looking at Bobby’s carpet.
“Okay, I think I got a handle on what Gwenoch might have done.”
Sam sat up a little, and his eyes brightened, “Yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I need you two to scooch in closer and hold hands.”
Dean shot Sam a wary glance, not sure how Sam was going to react. He watched his brother sigh and shift over half the space between them. Dean moved in as well and grabbed Sam’s hand. He couldn’t resist sliding the pad of his thumb across Sam’s palm and was smug when he felt his brother shiver.
Bobby sat across from them with a large tome that wasn’t Latin or English, but Dean wasn’t sure what language it was.
“Phoenician.” Sam said. Dean shot Sam a startled look. He knew he hadn’t spoken out loud.
Bobby was looking hard at Sam, too.
“What?” Sam asked, head swiveling between the two.
“Why’d you say that, about it being Phoenician?” Dean asked.
Sam turned a confused look on Dean and shrugged, “I’m not sure. Didn’t you want to know?”
“I never said it out loud.”
“Huh.”
Dean shook his head, not sure what was going on. They both looked at Bobby. Bobby let his gaze wander back and forth between the two.
“Hm…” Bobby said, “Kind of confirms my suspicions, let me do the ritual and we’ll know for sure.
Bobby placed one of his hands over Sam and Dean’s and started chanting. Dean didn’t notice anything at first, but then small tendrils of blue light rose from the left side of Sam’s chest and Dean looked down to see green ones rising from his own. Sam looked like he was trying to puzzle things out. When the two colors wound together over their heads, Sam’s mouth formed a small ‘o’. Bobby stopped chanting, and the light faded.
Dean turned to Bobby, “Well?”
“You two are bound.”
“What?” Sam and Dean exclaimed together. Dean pulled his hand from Sam’s and hoped Bobby had more to add.
“Gwenoch bound you.”
“What does that means, exactly?” Sam asked. Dean hoped it was coincidence that he was thinking exactly the same thing.
“Literature’s not clear,” Bobby said rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Could be anything from just bein’ able to find each other in the dark, to actually readin’ each other’s minds.”
“Would it cause - “ Sam didn’t finish the thought, but Dean knew even without the binding what Sam was driving at. He hoped Bobby did too without one of them actually having to say it.
“Nope.” Bobby said. “Can’t make you feel things you don’t. Just opens you up to the other person, makes it hard to keep things hidden.”
“Can you break it?” Dean asked. He was freaked out, uncertain whether this was a good thing or bad.
“Nope, and don’t know anyone who can. High court fairy magic. Anything that might break it isn’t somethin’ I’d wanna mess with. My guess is, it will evolve, but I can’t even tell you that much, really. I did make up a list here of things you can do to test the bond. There’s also a number for a couple of psychics who can probably help you learn to shield.”
“Appreciate it, Bobby,” Sam said, and Dean nodded his agreement.
Sam and Dean avoided each other the rest of the day. Sam spent the day inside researching anything that might have to do with bonding.
Dean, well Dean had a plan. He was tired of waiting and needed to keep Sam off balance so he wouldn’t have time to think.
Dean had spotted the old, flat bed truck; with the slatted wooden sides at the far side of Bobby’s yard. It was perfect, far enough from the house and with plenty of room for what Dean had in mind.
He filled the bed up with straw from the barn and pulled the blankets and quilts from the bed in his and Sam’s room. He arranged the bedding over the straw, making a comfy pallet. Dean snooped around Bobby’s, hoping not to have to run into town, and finally found what he was looking for tucked away in the linen closet. Several more blankets, pillows and throw pillows. The final touch, two lanterns from the barn that actually functioned, which he hung from the window on the back of the cab.
When Dean observed his handiwork, he was proud of what he’d accomplished. More importantly, he was sure that it would appeal to Sam.
Bobby made burgers for dinner, which they enjoyed with salad and a couple of beers. Bobby had rented a couple of movies but Dean declined for both of them, dragging Sam outside, with the excuse that they needed to talk, which was not far from the truth.
“Dean -” Sam started to talk the minute they were out the door, but Dean wanted to do this his way. His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his jeans. He wanted to take Sam’s hand, but actually doing it was weird, so he didn’t.
“Look, Sam, just follow me okay?”
Dean heard the pissy sigh at his back and knew without looking that Sam’s lips would be pursed into some version of the bitch face.
Dean led them through the maze of Bobby’s junkyard ,and then they were at the truck. Sam was still behind him, and he kind of wanted to see his brother’s face, but he was scared of what it would reveal, so Dean stayed quiet, waiting.
“You did this? For me?” Sam asked.
Dean turned and looked up, then. It was still disconcerting how far he had to look up to meet Sam’s eyes.
“Dean - ”
“You said that already. Do you like it?”
Sam really looked at the truck, piled with blankets and pillows, bathed in the lantern light and the last rays of the day. His features softened, and his mouth tilted up at the corners.
“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”
Dean was looking at the ground, kicking his foot in the dirt, trying like hell not to say something that would make him sound like a girl.
Sam clapped him on the shoulder, and Dean looked up. “It’s really great.” Sam was really smiling at him now, that smile that turned Dean inside out.
“Come here, Sam.” Dean pulled Sam up on the bed of the truck and into the cushions, until they sat facing each other.
“ I want this, want us, want you, Sam.”
Dean didn’t try to hide anything, locking his gaze to Sam’s.
“I want this, too.” Sam’s tone was low, lacking conviction.
“You feel guilty,” Dean stated.
“You’re sixteen, Dean.”
“It’s just a body Sam. Inside, I’m still me. This,” Dean waved his arms down his body, “it’s like a tuxedo or something. I look really hot in it, but it isn’t me. Of all people, I thought you’d get that.”
Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Sammy, it’s okay if you get off on it.” Sam looked at him then, eyes full of shock and a hint of self-loathing. “Dude, I get off on it, too. Knowing what you could do to me, trusting you not to take it too far-- it’s really hot.” Dean delivered the last from beneath his bangs, feeling the heat creeping up his chest and neck.
It was clear from Sam’s expression that this line of reasoning wasn’t working. “Look, I want to try something, okay?”
Dean put out both of his hands and said, “Give me your hands.” Dean swallowed. He’d never been comfortable with touchy-feely stuff, and this went so far beyond that. He didn’t even know if would work. Dean had never thought of himself as a coward, but as reluctant as he was convincing Sam meant everything. Sam put his hands in Dean’s with a head tilt and furrowed brow, questioning what Dean had in mind.
Dean took a deep breath and let it back out, tongue working across his lower lip. “I don’t know if this will work. Bobby’s list said we might be able to project our thoughts and feelings.”
“Dean you don’t have - ”
Dean cut Sam off. “Want to. I called a psychic friend of Bobby’s and she said you need to relax and let me in, mentally. Keep your eyes on mine, okay?
Sam nodded. Dean shook out his arms and cracked his neck, then concentrated. He thought about all the ways he had been thinking about Sam. The times he would steal looks, too long touches, jealousy of Sam’s relationships, masturbation fantasies, eyes locked to Sam’s, he opened his mind and put it all out there, imagining his thoughts flowing into Sam.
Sam gasped, eyes wide. “How long, Dean?”
Dean looked down to see Sam that their hands were clasped around wrists now and Sam was etching fingerprints into Dean’s skin.
Dean called up one particular image, the first time he remembered seeing Sam that way. Sam was about thirteen. Sam had helped him wash the Impala and he was bronze skin, denim cut-offs and soaked white tee stretched over developing muscles. Sam’s lanky limbs were everywhere, and his smile stretched to the sky as he held his arm out to Dean, warding off the prism glinted spray of the hose that Dean had turned on him.
Sam’s eyes were wet, and Dean saw that he was getting through loud and clear.
Dean opened up his heart completely, desire, love, want, projecting all the things he would never have words for. Dean lay himself bare, letting Sam see it all, belonging, need, lust and home. This is it, only you, always, forever, mine. Flashes of fairy, canopy of rainbow wings and Sam sinking into him, perfect, right, kisses and touches. Loved, protected, partner, trust, sighing surrender and shuddering touch, you and I, Sam and Dean, always us, together.
He and Sam had pulled even closer, tighter. Dean’s legs were splayed over Sam’s lap and they were holding elbows now, grips tight. Sam’s eyes were shining, filled with love, and then, Dean felt the push back and relaxed into it, letting Sam into him, the way he was in Sam, seeing, feeling what was inside of his brother.
Safe, harbor, home and love swept into him. Images of him at sixteen, sun kissed, legs spread cocking a gun at a target. Freckled nose, throat, ear, arms, shower fresh, and towel wrapped. Snapshot clicks of curved lips and white teeth, eating strawberries and dripping juice, hands gripped firm around the wheel of the Impala, non-quantifiable number of lips kissed, hands held, back-against-back, lust and ragged yearning.
Watching from a bus window, watching himself become smaller and smaller on the horizon, sorrow, regret, sorry, never again. First kiss, flights of wings, trust you, want this, filthy raw need, always yours, always love you, be there, you and me, love.
Sam’s hands ran up Dean’s arms cupping his face with his hands. He brought his mouth to Dean’s, slow, soft, open over the top lip, then bottom and Dean rose into it, pressing back. Dean trembled, raw and vulnerable, and begged with his mouth for Sam to take him apart. Sam licked across his lower lip, and then it was wide-open mouths, wet slippery kisses, tongues thrusting in imitation of what they both wanted. Passion rose, and the feedback loop faded, images lost, but the feelings and touches kept skipping there and back again.
Dean was sitting in Sam’s lap, his legs wrapped around Sam as Sam worked his mouth down the side of his jaw. Scrape of teeth and lash of tongue as Sam worked his way to the sensitive spot behind his ear. Dean’s skin tingled where Sam was grazing it, just above his waistband, slow glide of thumb, flutter of fingertips. Dean’s breath caught, tripping as he tipped his head, letting Sam have better access to his neck.
“God Dean, want to put my mouth all over every inch of your skin.” Sam sucked the patch of skin into his mouth that he’d been kissing, worrying at it with his teeth, drawing blood to the surface until it was just close to painful. Dean heard himself, keening noises falling from his lips.
“So good Sammy.” Dean ran one hand up under Sam’s shirt and twined the other into his hair, strands silk in his grip.
Sam pulled back with a low growl, which went straight to Dean’s cock, making it impossibly harder, his jeans uncomfortably tight. Sam’s hands were still dancing over Dean’s skin, taunting, driving him crazy with unfulfilled promise.
“Gonna go so slow, Dean, make you nuts. Mark you everywhere, make you forget everything but my name.”
Dean was pretty sure that was already the case, as he arched into Sam, clinging, a whirlwind of emotion.
“Arms up, Dean.” Dean lifted his arms, and Sam’s hands skimmed across his skin as he lifted the tee over Dean’s head. Sparks skittered on Dean’s skin, fueling the fire in his belly, making him writhe against Sam’s crotch with his hips, erection painful behind his zipper.
Dean needed to feel all of Sam and brought his hand to Sam’s waist, pushed at his shirt until Sam’s chest was bare, beautiful skin, all his for the taking. Dean used the tip of his thumb and the slightest pressure from his thumb to trace across Sam’s scars. Four long jagged scratches across his belly from a harpy, and Dean traced each one, causing Sam’s breath to hitch and stomach to flutter. Dean mapped the red swirls at his ribs, the white arc under one nipple, each and every marred patch of skin, shared history on Sam’s body.
When Dean used his tongue on the jagged, raised, puckered, whiteness above the collarbone, it was Sam’s turn to tremble under Dean, grinding their dicks together to get relief.
Sam’s breaths came ragged and fast, his forehead damp where it rested against Dean’s.
“Pants, off now,” Sam said. Dean agreed and they scrambled up, tossing shoes, socks, pants and briefs out of the way.
When they were naked, Sam’s heated gaze dragged across Dean’s skin. Everything Sam was feeling echoed in Dean. He knew Sam was going to eat at his skin until there wasn’t a place on Dean that wasn’t marked, ‘property of Sam Winchester.’ Dean thought maybe he should protest, but he wanted it too, and it was no less than the truth. He was Sam’s, every part of him.
When Sam moved it was a blur, hands all over Dean, grabbing his ass, lifting him, and oh holy fuck, there was no way those tiny whimpers were coming out of his mouth. Pliant and loose, Dean clung to Sam, arms around his neck, legs around his waist as Sam lowered him to their makeshift bed.
Sam over him, surrounding him, on him and Dean pushed up into him, not close enough, never close enough. Cocks sliding together and never ending skin touching skin, sensation everywhere. Dean knew he was shaking but couldn’t stop, consumed by his need and the reciprocating feelings from Sam. Nothing had ever felt like this, like he was going to combust, overload and fly out of himself.
Sam shifted, sliding to the side, and Dean mewled, grabbing every inch of Sam he could touch. “Shh, Dean I got you.” Sam leaned over him, large hands that could break him, stroking down his side, soothing, and Dean’s heart slowed, panted breaths evening out.
Dean buried his head in Sam’s shoulder, “God, Sam, it’s so intense. Want you so much. Can feel you wanting me.” Sam kept up the slow strokes with his hand, fingers curved, pressing into Dean’s ribs.
“Me, too. I’m sensing what you feel.” Dean raised his eyes to Sam’s, and what he saw there caused his stomach to unfurl, fluttering, stretching out and opening his heart.
Hazel eyes so familiar but so different now that they were full of Sam’s love, desire, want, reverence. Dean didn’t know if he saw all that there or Sam was feeding it to him through their connection, but it was intoxicating, and Dean never wanted to be sober again.
Sam brought a hand up to cup Dean’s jaw, thumb tipped to his lip, and Dean opened his mouth, flicked his tongue against it, satisfied as Sam groaned and ground against his hip, slick pre-come painting his thigh. Sam’s lips moved over his and his tongue twined with Dean’s, learned the ridges at the roof of his mouth, flicked over teeth, eating, devouring, taking, and Dean surrendered himself, pulling Sam in and sucking at his tongue.
Sam had one hand under Dean's head the other skimming over ribs and belly. Sam’s mouth over his again and then again, sweet deep kisses bright with possibility, brimming with filthy promise. Dean couldn’t stop his hips from rising in small circles, while his hands carded into Sam’s hair.
“I could do this all night, Dean. Kiss you”
“Well I’m pretty sure I couldn’t, not if you want to be inside me when I come.”
“Fuck, Dean.” Sam’s voice was raw, dark smoke.
Sam worked his mouth down Dean’s neck, a trail of spit slick kisses and bites, careful not to leave visible marks. Once Sam had moved down past the hollow dip at Dean’s throat, he pulled hard at the skin next to Dean’s collarbone. Dean’s blood moving, a tide rising with the scrape of teeth against his neck. Sam’s mouth pulling him to the precipice where pleasure flipped into pain, and Dean encouraged him with a stream of, ‘Sam, right there, yes,’ with every touch. Nothing existed for Dean except where he was coiled into and centered under his brother’s mouth. Sam sucked in a nipple and white hot sparks shot straight to his cock, Dean’s hips snapped up, back curving as Sam broke him apart and remade him.
Dean relished every single bit of the pain knowing that his skin would bloom with bruises, a canvas of purples, blacks, and yellows, and he would wear Sam on him for as long as they lasted, visible proof of their connection. Dean couldn’t think anymore, a needy mess, as Sam worked down his chest and belly, a trail of sparks and tinder left in his wake.
Sam bit down hard on the delicate skin at his hipbone, tip of the tongue soothing the sting and Dean’s cock leaked in response. When Sam moved his mouth over Dean and licked the drops away, Dean wondered why they hadn’t been doing this forever. As if Sam read his mind, and maybe he had, “Could’ve been…why’d we wait so long?”
Sam licked along the crown, pulled at the sensitive nerves at the back with his tongue and Dean whined, forced himself to stillness waiting for what Sam would give him, whatever Sam wanted. Sam engulfed his cock in slick wet heat and Dean knew he’d never felt anything better, and he wanted to live a long, long time, and spend the better part of it buried in his brother’s mouth. Sam swallowed and sucked Dean’s cock, wet heat and star shot heaven. Dean pushed up on his elbows, nearly losing it when he saw his brother’s mouth wrapped around him, eyes dark as he looked up at Dean from under his lashes. Dean felt his balls tighten up, and Sam pulled off. Dean collapsed with a groan.
“Not yet, Dean. You’re not coming until I’m buried inside you. Maybe I won’t even touch you.” Sam lay with his cheek against Dean’s thigh, one finger idly stroked the skin at his stomach. That touch, so close to where Dean wanted it, and Sam’s hot breath moist across Dean’s dick was pure torment.
“Fuck you.”
“Mmmm. More like I’m gonna fuck you. What do you think? Think I can make you come on my cock alone Dean, make you beg for it?”
“God, Sam, you got a dirty mouth on you.” Dean could hear the gravel in his voice. He’d had no idea his brother could spout such filth or that Dean would find it such a turn on and the thing that made it even more scorching was the absolute look of pure innocence Sam was turning on him, liked a choir boy who’d never heard of sex. “You gonna talk, or you gonna make me beg, Sam?”
Sam tossed him a grin before he moved his mouth down, pushing one of Dean’s knees to his chest. He licked across Dean’s sac and teased a trail over the sensitive area below, circling his hole, then licking over it, and the sounds falling out of Dean’s mouth would've embarrassed him if he wasn’t too far gone to care. Then that wet slickness was pushing inside him, and Dean pulled his leg back to give Sam better access, totally okay with how wanton and exposed he knew he must look. It was better than anything, because this was Sam and Sam’s fucking amazing tongue. Sam thrust inside him, quick short flicks, then long, slow pull out and ‘Sam, Saaahhmm, please, Sammy,’ tumbled out of his mouth.
Sam slid one long finger in next to his tongue and Dean squirmed. Sam fucked him on his finger and his tongue, and Dean cursed, begged, shameless with need. When a second finger, slick with more that spit now, joined the first, Sam moved them apart and together, twisting until he was stroking across Dean’s prostate, tongue still flicking inside, and Dean gibbered, whined, flailed, lost to his brother’s hands and tongue.
“Please Sam, now, need you.”
Sam pulled out of him and Dean was empty, needing Sam, wanting to be filled. Sam crawled up his body, mouth tracing over his skin as he worked his way up. Sam was over him and liberally applied lube to himself, cock hard and beautiful. Sam positioned himself, right there, slick cock head poised at Dean’s entrance and Sam’s lips came down on his, a soft downy touch, combined with a current of emotion, gentle, tender, protective, every sweet thing a kiss could be.
“Always you Dean, always was, always will be.”
“Me too, Sammy.”
Dean surged up as Sam thrust down. Hot fast slide so fucking good. Pain and pleasure, alive and together, right where they were supposed to be. Sam’s balls hit his ass, and Dean felt every single inch of his brother’s cock buried in him. Heartbeats thumping, stutter jumping where their chests pressed together. Sam’s arms strained, corded and bulging where he held himself over Dean, and a white hot bolt of lust shot through Dean when he wrapped his hands around them, felt those arms, strength and sheer muscle.
Sam’s hair hung over eyes blown dark, god so fucking beautiful. It wound around Dean’s heart, lashed tight, and something welled up in Dean, tried to force it’s way out through his eyes and his mouth. Nothing had ever been this right, this perfect.
Sam moved, and the world fell away, all that was left, them pulsing in perfect rhythm, pressed as close as they could be, trying to be closer. Sam was hitting Dean's prostate with every stroke, his dick sliding against Sam’s belly, being folded into Sam, surrounded by him, all that Dean had ever wanted. Dean’s orgasm hit him by surprise, balls rising, head rush of black orange burst behind his eyes, sticky wet between them. Sam stuttered as Dean pulsed around him, meaningless sounds and ‘oh, Dean, God.’ Sam arched above him, coming inside, marking Dean from within.
Sam dropped his head to Dean’s and pulled out slowly. He leaned over his brother, hands moving over, tracing, worshipping, touching eyes and nose, cheeks and lips. Dean’s hands stroked up and down Sam’s back, sweat hot skin under his fingertips. Unspoken devotion in every flickering touch, finally resting. Even with Sam’s forehead pressed to his, Dean could still see it when Sam smiled, a laugh huffed against his lips.
Sam rolled over, pulling Dean on top of him, sealed their lips in a kiss, laughter still seeping around the edges. Dean smiled back, heart swollen, seeing Sam like this, joyful, relaxed, brighter than a nova.
Dean shifted to the side, grabbed a t-shirt and cleaned them off. Sam manhandled Dean until Dean’s back was tight against his brother’s chest. Dean’s dick gave an interested twitch. Apparently, he wasn’t going to grow tired of that anytime soon. One of Sam’s arms under his neck, the other flung over his waist, hand splayed across Dean’s chest, anchor and protector.
Dean drifted into sleep, stars a canopy over his head, Sam’s heartbeat the ground beneath him.
After they said their good-byes to Bobby, Dean slipped into the Impala right behind Sam. Sam got another one of those flashbacks, Dean at sixteen the first time around, right after Dad gave him the car. Dean’s hand gliding down the side of her, caressing the hot blackness of the finish, reverent touch to the seat as he slid in, and sure grip as he took the wheel in his hands, face lit bright enough to blind. Sam, right on the precipice between hero worship and first love.
In the now, Dean seemed barely old enough to be driving, but the sight punched Sam’s gut the same way it had when he’d been twelve.
Dean seemed to be getting that thought straight from Sam, and he turned his eyes to his brother. Sam would have sworn it wasn’t possible, but the smile got brighter and wider. Then Dean was fisting his hand into the front of Sam’s shirt and pulling him across the seat. Sam didn’t resist, sliding over, eyelids dropping, hands reaching for Dean’s shoulders, which still felt oddly small, delicate under his palms.
Dean’s other hand reached around behind Sam’s neck, grazing into his hair and tugging to pull Sam where he wanted him. When Sam felt Dean’s lips against his own, he groaned deep into his brother’s mouth and wrapped one hand around Dean’s waist the other behind his shoulders, and practically pulled him into his lap. Every fiber in Sam’s body leapt at the fact that he could take control of Dean like this. The little whimpers falling from Dean’s lips, told Sam his brother was getting off on it, too and that made Sam’s cock twitch, despite the fact that Dean had sucked him off in the shower less than an hour ago.
Sam twisted and pulled until Dean straddled him and couldn’t resist gliding both hands down Dean’s back until he was cupping his ass. Dean moaned and did this wiggling body roll that was obscene and completely got Sam going. Sam saw the span of freckled skin where Dean’s neck stretched out and pulled Dean to his mouth. He clamped his teeth over the tendon at Dean’s neck and pulled the flesh into his mouth until he was sure there would be a mark later. Not so worried about what would show now that Bobby would not have to witness the results.
“Fuck, Sammy.” Dean’s hands ran up under Sam’s shirt, over his chest and twisted his nipples and Sam’s hips stuttered as he bit down hard enough to leave teeth marks. Sam pulled away and clamped both of his hands over Dean’s.
“We better stop, before we traumatize Bobby.”
Sam leaned his head back, trying to catch his breath and talk his erection down. Then he felt the hot warm wetness at the base of his neck, shivered as Dean’s rough tongue went up his neck to the soft skin behind his ear.
Deans put his lips right to the flesh on his ear and whispered, “Love this, Sam. Love knowing I can do this to you. So goddamn sexy.”
Sam’s heart thudded against Dean’s palm, and he could feel Dean’s pulse beating in time with his where Dean’s jaw nestled at his neck.
Sam wrapped one hand around Dean’s neck and pulled him back enough to look into his eyes. Sam couldn’t resist moving his palm around, cupping Dean’s jaw and brushing his thumb over his lower lip. Dean sucked Sam’s thumb in and nipped at the pad, and Sam couldn’t stifle the moan coming out of his mouth. Dean’s eyes twinkled with the knowledge of exactly how he affected his brother.
“Jerk,” Sam said. It came out low and growled and full of filthy promise.
“Yeah, but you love me anyway, bitch.” Dean replied with a cheeky smile as he moved over and got behind the wheel.
Sam grabbed Dean’s hand, twined his fingers into Dean’s and brought the palm to his lips. He moved his tongue from the palm all the way to soft web of flesh at the index finger and wiggled against the skin there. Sam felt completely satisfied as Dean’s eyes glazed over, pupils blown.
“Yeah, Dean, I do, love you.” Sam knew Dean needed to hear it and without warning that same rush of love came back to him through the connection he and Dean shared. Sam dropped Dean’s hand and his brother turned the key in the ignition.
The rumble of the car was familiar, safe, and home. Every bit of tension in Sam’s body drained away as Dean headed out the drive and onto the highway.
Sam looked over at Dean, hair moving from the beating of the wind through the windows. The sounds of AC/DC pulsed out of the speakers. He put his hand across the back of the seat and laid it over Dean’s shoulder. Dean pressed into the touch and flashed Sam a smile, which splashed over him, blazing love and comfort. Despite the uncertainty of the future, Sam was thankful for what they had found. It wasn’t just the sex, which, considering teenage hormones might possibly kill him. It was the knowledge that this, right here, in this moment, everything he wanted or needed was sitting right next to him, held under his palm, solid and sure. Dean was his, and he was Dean’s; they were in this together and it was as close to perfect as he could imagine.
THE END, BACK TO 1