Supernatural, The Sky Was Full of Wings, 4/5
Title: The Sky Was Full of Wings 4/5
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 woke to the far off sound of music and the scent of something that smelled like butter and cinnamon. He was still in the bower, where he’d fallen asleep after a night of sex. Sex with your brother, his mind helpfully, provided.
He found that getting to his hands and knees on orange satin sheets and crossing an expanse almost as wide as a small lake wasn’t as easy at it seemed. Anything that approached grace went by the wayside as he slipped and slid to the edge of the massive bed.
He kept a bit of sheet covering his essentials as he plowed into the breakfast that someone left by the bed and that he assumed was for him. Piled near the, now empty, plates, was a length of cloth. It was similar in color and pattern to the one that Dean wore. Sam spent fifteen frustrating minutes trying to get it wrapped around him. He knew it looked ridiculous, but at least he wasn’t hanging out anywhere.
He walked down what amounted to a hallway made of trees until it opened into an amphitheater of sorts. Terraced steps were made from earth and covered in green and yellow grasses. In the center depression, appeared to be some kind of performance art. What looked to be nothing more than bundles of twigs rearranged themselves into various shapes. As each new shape quit writhing, a smattering of applause sounded over the area.
Sam wanted nothing more than to find Dean, right now, and grabbed the arm of the next individual he passed. Sam found himself looking up into eyes three shades of gold, rimmed in green. Sam startled; he wasn’t used to looking up at anyone, but this amber maned man topped him by a good six inches, maybe more. If it wasn’t for the crinkled corners of the man’s eyes, Sam might have felt intimidated.
“What can I do for you, toy?”
That was offensive, and before Sam remembered that seven feet of pure muscle had just nearly knocked him over with a small clap on the back, he growled, “I’m nobody’s fucking toy.”
The man threw back his head, long column of throat exposed in the morning light, and laughed. Then he ran the hand on Sam’s shoulder down his back and rested it on the curve of his waist. “Ah human, I hear that fucking toy is exactly what you are, emphasis on the fucking.” The man’s growl put Sam’s to shame, except it was laced with smoke and sex, and Sam felt himself shiver under the man’s hand. Sam swallowed hard, trying to remember what he was doing.
He finally croaked out, “Have you seen my brother, Dean?”
The man placed his other hand on the opposite side of Sam’s waist and turned him. The man’s hands were massive and Sam realized his own hands would be swallowed by them. The guy plucked at the cloth Sam was wearing, pulling, and tucking, and grazing at least once across Sam’s dick. The light in the man’s eyes, left Sam in little doubt that the touch wasn’t accidental. Sam remained passive under the attention, and against his will, his dick gave an interested twitch.
Stepping back and resting his fists to his hips, the man finally seemed satisfied with his handiwork. He looked Sam up and down commenting, “There, I think you’ll find the kilt more comfortable now.”
Sam thought about thanking the man, but just in case it was taken as a, ‘thank you for groping me,’ he just pinched his lips shut. The man pointed over Sam’s shoulder. “Take that second path. He should be out that way.” Sam nodded his thanks and turned but didn’t walk away fast enough to avoid the slap on his ass from his admirer. Heat rose from his sternum to his face, and he couldn’t decide if it was embarrassment or arousal.
Sam kept going until the tree-hung path opened into a field surrounded by more trees and additional paths. The whole thing was about half a football field across. He couldn’t take his eyes off the spectacle that greeted him. All he could see of Dean was his brother’s head. He was lying down and the rest of him appeared to be completely covered in shards of colored glass.
“Dean.” Sam called out. The noise was weirdly echoed out in several softer ‘Deans’ carrying across the clearing. Sam watched stunned as the colored bits flapped and rose into he air revealing themselves to be the wings of the small fairies. Sam didn’t want to know what Dean had been doing underneath a blanket of fairies; he just didn’t.
Dean raised himself up on his elbows, happy smile all over his face, “Morning, sunshine.”
Sam’s heart stuttered, something cracked inside, a normal Dean greeting on anything but a normal morning, but Sam couldn’t help smiling back. It was so fucking fabulous to see Dean so damn happy, unfettered by the past, relaxed and content.
Sam sat down cross-legged next to Dean’s hip. “Dean, we need to talk.” Dean’s face instantly darkened. Apparently, even wiped memory, fairy enchanted Dean didn’t like heart to hearts. Before Sam could process it, Dean’s hands were running up his chest and Dean’s mouth closed over his, wet, hot, and dirty wrong. Sam let himself sink into the kiss for a moment and then pressed against Dean, saying, “Dean, we can’t.”
Oh God, Sam was pretty sure he couldn’t breathe. The hurt that crossed Dean’s face tore at his insides. Dean looked over Sam’s shoulder, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes.
Sam continued, “Dean we’re brothers. Do you know what that means?”
“Yeah, Sam, I know what the term means. We have the same mother and father.” Sam watched Dean’s fingers pluck at the metallic threads on his kilt.
“Well, brothers don’t kiss.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure they don’t blow each other either, but I damn sure didn’t dream your pretty lips wrapped around my cock last night.” The anger and pain in Dean’s words lashed out at him.
“That wasn’t exactly my choice, and we’ve never done anything like that before.” Sam kept his voice low and carefully neutral.
“That was the before. I don’t remember the before. I like now.” Dean said it with all the petulance of an authentic sixteen-year-old, or maybe a six-year-old. “I think you like the now too, right?”
Dean’s eyes were wide and almost wet, and Sam wondered for a minute if this was the look that Dean always referred to as his puppy eyes. If it was, Sam understood Dean’s hatred of the look and his total inability to withstand the effect. Sam knew, right then, he would do absolutely anything to take that look off of Dean’s face. He couldn’t, just couldn’t make himself stomp all over Dean’s vulnerability.
Sam gathered his courage, expanded his chest and cupped Dean’s face in his hands. Dean’s eyes were all the colors of grass, and Sam felt himself falling into them, never wanting to stop. “Yeah Dean, I like the now too.”
That was all the permission Dean needed. He had his hands all over Sam’s chest as he pushed his brother to the ground and knelt over him. Dean’s lips grazed his jaw and nibbled around his neck and sucked right into the spot behind his ear that drove him crazy.
“Fuck, Dean.” Dean’s smutty laugh tingled in his ear, and Dean’s hands never stopped moving. He had both of them stripped and naked in less than a minute. Dean slipped between Sam’s legs. Sam could feel his brother, hard, heavy and leaking pre-come, and moved his hand over Dean’s slender hips, cupping his ass, grinding them together. He wanted to feel every glorious inch of that skin touching his and wrapped his legs around Dean’s, twining their ankles together.
Dean’s voice came out high, breaking, “Oh God, Sammy, feels so good.” Sam gripped Dean hard enough that it was going to leave bruises and began rocking them in a rhythm that slid their cocks together. Dean squirmed on top of him, making sounds that Sam couldn’t get enough of. Dean’s grunts, moans, and breathless sighs wound into his heart and made it sing. Sam kept moving them as Dean nibbled down his neck and across his collar bone, mumbling incoherent breathy words into Sam’s skin that turned into, “Sam, Sam, Sam.” Dean convulsed, hips pushing down hard as he came. The minute Sam felt the hot wetness across his dick, his balls tightened. He bit down on Dean’s shoulder and bucked into his own orgasm, adding to the slick mess between them.
Sam let one hand drift slowly up Dean’s sweaty skin and cupped his head, pulled Dean into him and opened his mouth over Dean’s, laving into his mouth. Dean kissed back like he couldn’t get enough, skimming his tongue over Sam’s lower lip and biting down just enough to make Sam moan. Dean pulled back, grinned ear to ear, and slid so he was curled around Sam’s side. Never taking his eyes from Sam’s, Dean ran his hand over Sam’s belly and slowly brought his hand to his mouth, licking it clean.
Sam gasped, “Holy fuck, Dean.” Dean’s tongue, tasting come-slick fingers was carnal and erotic and about the hottest, dirtiest thing Sam had ever seen. Because he couldn’t resist, Sam dragged Dean’s neck to his mouth, clamped down and sucked until Dean was squirming next to him, letting out little whimpers. Sam let go. and they both flopped onto their backs.
Dean grabbed one of the cloth strips, wiped himself and tossed it to Sam. Sam cleaned up, and they lay there at arms length, heads turned and facing each other.
“Want to feel something great?” Dean asked.
Sam threw Dean a goofy grin, completely out of his head with happiness. “I think I just did.”
Dean huffed out a laugh then emitted a high pitched whistle. The sky above them shifted from blue to a flurry of colored wings and a cacophony of musical sounds.
“Stay still,” Dean said. Sam held his breath, his hand twined with Dean’s, and watched as the flittering colored bits descended. Diminutive hands and feet settled against his skin, then falling to their bellies, more and more of them, wings overlapping until both he and Dean were covered neck to toe in a rainbow hued, winged quilt. Then they moved, caressing him everywhere. It was almost too much sensation, and Sam groaned, body arching as he felt himself begin to harden again. The small figures kept moving, and Sam heard the small whimpers fall helplessly from his mouth. He felt Dean’s fingers snake through his own and turned to fall into his brother’s gaze, grounded in the love he saw there.
Sam could feel his body undulating, moving to feel a hundred caresses and then, suddenly, Dean slapped his hand on the ground and yelled. The fairies rose in a tornado of color and sound that left Sam breathless and awed. Sunlight streamed through the rainbow wings, every hue imaginable shifting overhead, painting them in a variegated prism of light. Wide-eyed he turned to Dean. The pure joy on Dean’s face, his obvious happiness in sharing this, snagged Sam’s heart, making it beat so hard he thought it might actually burst from his chest.
Sam didn’t know how his talk about appropriate brotherly affection had turned into this, and frankly, he didn’t care.
“You know it’s another hour until lunch,” Dean said, low and suggestive. Sam didn’t have to use his imagination as Dean rolled over and placed his lips to Sam’s.
Dean had experienced so many varying sensations since entering fairy. No matter what he had experienced here, when Sam touched him, everything else paled. No food or drink or glamour was as addictive as his brother’s touch. He knew Sam felt guilty, watched it cross his brother’s face, but as much as he sympathized, the same feelings didn’t resonate in Dean. All he wanted was to get his hands all over a naked Sam, have Sam all over him, in him. Just the thought was enough to get Dean going.
His favorite times here now were the times he spent alone with Sam. They spent almost every afternoon in a small glade that Dean had found. Trees with leaves shaped like balloon hands, the sky, today, cast in bright blue dotted with puff paint clouds. The trees reflected back in the clear turquoise of the small pond, dappled light filtering down through the leaves.
He and Sam were sitting on flat shelf of rock that bordered one edge of the pool. They’d spent the better part of the afternoon fishing, releasing what they caught and throwing it back at the request of the Nyad who lived there.
Sam talked to him about sports, and guns, and a black Impala, that apparently Dean was quite attached to. Sam never talked about anything serious, and Dean didn’t ask, as if they had silently agreed not to bring up the darker aspects of the past. Dean knew those aspects existed, because Sam would stumble over a word or change thoughts in the middle of the conversation, his face going pensive and dark. It was easy and relaxed and happy. Dean, of course, couldn’t remember if they’d been like this before. From what he could read from Sam, he suspected that, if they had been like this, it hadn’t been that way in a very long time.
The air was filled with the sound of the cascading waterfall. A small group of Fae across the pond from them played musical instruments, one of them a goat-legged man, which Sam had just asked about.
“That’s Pan.”
“The God, Pan?”
“The one and only.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah he’s been rutting around after me since the day I got here.”
Sam couldn’t bring himself to ask Dean outright if he fucked the goat man, but nothing he saw here would surprise him anymore. He raised his brow and looked questioningly at Dean.
Dean looked disgusted and said, “Dude, what part of smelly goat guy, don’t you get? No fucking way. Although the nymphs…” Dean’s voice trailed off, and the lascivious look on his face was all Dean. Sam laughed out loud. That sound ran into Dean, a hot swirl of joy, and he was laughing, too. Even in his own head, in this removed place, Dean’s mind skittered over the word perfect, part of him whispering too good to be true, but the greater part of him was sure this was perfect.
“Sam,” Gwenoch called rousing Sam from slumber. Sam’s hand rested against Dean’s hip. Gwenoch sat naked on Dean’s other side. Sam blinked back sleep and pulled himself upright. Sam looked around and noted they were no longer in Gwenoch’s bed.
The three of them were on top of a hill, surrounded by more hills rolling in every direction. Unlike the rest of fairy that Sam had seen, the area here was void of trees, the grass was yellow where it grew at all and it was silent, unnaturally quiet, no sound of anything living.
“Sam, are you with me?” Amusement curved her lips, and Sam turned his gaze back to Gwenoch.
“Yeah.”
“Today is your last day here, if you fulfill your part and complete the ritual I require of you.”
“Not likely to refuse, am I?”
“I don’t know, Sam. Isn’t staying here even a little bit tempting?” Her tone is teasing, and Sam can’t help smiling a bit.
Truthfully, the time he’s been in fairy has, in some ways, seemed like a vacation. But, he knew Dean, knew if Dean were complete and not under the influence, he wouldn’t choose to stay. As for his inclinations, well, fairy was certainly sin and temptation in one neat package, but he thought an eternity of it might turn him to things he would rather not be part of. He had seen at least some of the politics and darkness the court offered. He suspected there were things darker than either he or Dean had seen, but that Gwenoch had protected them from for reasons of her own. Sam also understood that the world they’d left needed them, and he finally felt that he fit into that role, in a way he never believed he could.
“So what do I need to do?”
“This is something both of you will be doing, Sam. You will make love to Dean, here, on this hill.”
If she had asked this of him when he first came her, he couldn’t have done it, but now, after everything he’d seen and done, the idea of watching Dean come apart underneath him, made his hands shake and his heart thud.
“I -" He understood he should object, but he couldn’t get it out. His heart wasn’t in it.
“Oh, Sam, Sam, Sam. I can see it you, you know. That dark desire to own your brother. This version of Dean is very tempting to you isn’t it, pristine, untouched, virginal. He doesn’t even have the scars he had at sixteen, does he? And, that nasty angel mark you hated so much, gone. All that beautiful freckled skin, Sam, and you want to put your hands all over it, until Dean knows he’s yours, so everyone who sees him knows he’s yours.”
Sam swallowed, “Virginal?”
“In this one sense, yes. He’s never been with another man like this Sam. Had someone inside him.”
God, he was getting half-hard just thinking about it, so apparently this wasn’t going to be problematic for him.
“What about Dean?”
“Sam, he wants it, too, but I expect you will need to hear his confirmation for yourself. That’s part of why I arranged this. I knew you both wanted it. Desire, sex, seed, love and a willing sacrifice of something never before given-- these are powerful magics.” She looked up at Sam from the corner of her eyes, “You know that. Your joining will bring life to this part of fairy.”
He did know that, and God help him, she wasn’t wrong about how he felt either. The thought that no one had ever been like this with Dean made Sam ache, chest and cock, made Sam want to mark him, own him, devour him.
It was all mixed up in his head, this version of Dean: Dean as he’d loved him, Dean who had always protected him, mixed up and jumbled, swirled into a tempest of need and desire stronger than he’d ever felt for anyone else. Added like a spice was the, ‘dirty, bad, wrong,’ of ‘brother,’ and, ‘sixteen’ and it was so fucking hot it made the sun pale.
Dean seemed so small and fragile still sleeping, stretched out on the grass. Logically Sam knew that wasn’t true. Dean at this age, was bigger than a lot of grown men, but when Sam stretched his hands across Dean’s belly, palms splayed, and the tips of his fingers disappeared around the curve of his brother’s waist, it made Dean seem breakable. The combination of all the love that was from his yesterdays, suffused with this new gobbling crazy desire to claim his brother for his own made Sam protective, possessive, and wild.
Gwenoch pressed two fingers to Dean’s head ,and Sam heard the word 'wake' on the wind. Dean’s eyes fluttered open, hazy from sleep, and a smile curved over his face as he looked at Sam. “Hey, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was husky from sleep and went straight to Sam’s dick, not that he needed any help, already hard and aching.
“Dean -" Sam didn’t know what to say. Even without his memory, Dean seemed to know what Sam needed.
Dean sat up, smile bright enough to blind, ran his hand up the side of Sam’s face and into his hair. Dean made the first move, pulling Sam’s lips to his own, which was good, because Sam didn’t think he could, not even as much as he wanted this, he couldn’t initiate it. Dean’s mouth opened under his, and it was sweet and slow, tongue twined kisses pressed one on top of the other, and Dean’s hands moving in reassurance as he devoured Sam’s mouth.
Gwenoch had moved off their hill and across the empty plain. Her hands were raised to the sky, which swirled over them, a finger painted canvas in rose, cerulean, and lilac. A chant curled on the air and moved like the hum of a coming storm.
Dean pulled him, and they both fell supine to the ground, Sam lying against Dean’s side. Sam spread his palm wide on Dean’s belly, the dusting of hair soft against his fingers as he caressed tender skin. Sam lowered his mouth to meet his hand, tracing the skin of Dean’s belly between each of his fingers. Dean’s muscles jumped under his tongue, and his hips bucked when Sam circled his belly button.
Sam wanted to take his time with this, the last time before they left, but the magic was gathering, and he felt it singing in his veins. Sam knew, looking at Dean, that Dean felt it. too. His brother’s pupils were a black pool rimmed in moss, and Dean’s dick was hard against his belly and leaking pre-come.
Dean grabbed a pot of something near where they were laying that Sam hadn’t noticed before and handed it to him. Sam took it and frowned at Dean, not understanding. Dean rolled his eyes and at the same time he flushed head to toe. Sam was never going to get tired of that. Dean blushing was toe curling joy and raging arousal that flooded his heart, bursting into every vein and cell.
Dean reached out for the jar, opened it, and tossed the lid aside before dipping his fingers in. When Dean brought his hand down between his legs and slid the slick finger into his ass, the light in Sam’s head finally went on. He grabbed the jar from Dean and lubed his fingers, then touched Dean’s rim where the muscle clenched around Dean’s finger, so turned on that he could barely think, and dying to get inside Dean, to feel that tight heat around his own fingers.
“Come on, Sammy.” Dean said as he pushed up against Sam. The intimacy of his finger sliding in against Dean’s nearly undid him. Nothing in Sam’s experience had prepared him for the wide open unfurling of emotions in every part of him. Dean’s fingers slick against his own, the two of them together in Dean’s body. Sam blinked, overwhelmed and flying apart under the emotional assault. When Dean was writhing and panting, fucking up onto their fingers, Sam pushed a third in and began twisting and curling his fingers to open Dean up.
Dean’s groans sounded across the plain, loud and filled with longing. “Now Sammy, need you.” Dean’s gaze pierced his and Sam wanted to take Dean, mark every inch of him, fierce and primal need blinding him to everything but the desire to be buried inside of Dean.
When he pulled Dean forward onto his thighs, he felt Dean’s surrender in the shudder that moved under his hands. Sam knew in that moment there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Dean, that he was Dean’s completely and forever. When he pressed the tip of his cock to Dean’s hole, he saw it clench and Dean’s whole body shake, practically begging. “Please Sam.” Dean’s words came out torn and pleading, his eyes were wide and dark as dense forest with lust, and his body was bowed, on the edge and waiting for whatever Sam wanted to do with him.
“So beautiful like this Dean, fuck.”
Sam pushed forward, and Dean planted his feet to the ground, hips rising, to meet him. Sam buried himself in Dean and Dean’s legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging discomfort into the small of Sam’s back. Sam shifted, feeling every particle of skin where he was inside Dean and he leaned into the strokes, hands grounded flat to the soil, knees braced. Sam moved, wild and hard, trying to get deeper, closer. Dean rose to meet every thrust, unrestrained, muscles corded, as he pushed up onto his elbows.
They strained into each other, chasing, pushing in tandem with the spell that was building. Sam moved one hand and wrapped it around Dean’s cock. Dean stuttered and groaned, “Please, now, Sam,” dropping from his mouth in stilted gasps. Sam moved his hand up Dean’s cock and back down again, flick of the wrist at the top, as brutal and harsh as his rutting hips.
Dean shot across his hand, pearled streams arcing over Dean’s belly and chest, and still he rocked under Sam, head back, eyes locked to Sam’s beneath fluttering lashes. As the last of Dean’s orgasm moved through his body, Sam felt it pulsing around him, and he went over the edge, shattered and flying apart, coming deep inside his brother’s body.
Sam fell to his elbows, trying to not collapse completely onto Dean. Both of them sweaty, panting and shaken, too hard to look, yet unable to drag their gazes away. Sam moved one hand up, brushing Dean’s hair from his forehead, dragging a thumb down Dean’s forehead, over his nose and rested, light against his bottom lip. Then Dean’s mouth turned up, smile sublime, and Sam answered back with his own.
The sky swirled, and the air was alive with a static charge as the spell culminated. Sam moved to lay next to Dean, and they both watched Gwenoch. Outlined against the sky he could see a shape behind her, a gold shadow laced with orange, wider than she was tall-- wings. Sam’s jaw dropped and Dean gasped, so Sam knew he wasn’t imagining things. Sam had assumed the larger Fae didn’t have wings, never having seen them manifest, but obviously he had been mistaken.
As they sat, the magic swept across the plain. The yellow grasses changed to greens, varying in size and variety. Small clumps of bushes manifested, and the air resounded with chirps and chatters, alive. It was like watching one of those old cartoons where the colors swept across black and white, the change dramatic, without pause, flowing over everything in front of it and making it new.
Gwenoch lowered her arms, and the air snapped and cracked as the wings were once again gone. She moved towards them across the now blooming fields. She glowed, that was the only word for it. Smile fierce and triumphant, skin gleaming under the sun. Once she crested the hill where they lay, she knelt to the side of Dean where Sam wasn’t.
“Your seed along with your bothers spilled here in love, will double my kingdom. I would have bargained your brother back to you for this alone.”
Sam thought he should be angrier than he was at that confession, but really he couldn’t regret too much that had happened here.
Gwenoch continued, “You have served fairy well, and I would reward you.” She pressed one hand to Dean’s chest where his tattoo was and her other to the same spot on Sam. Before either man could react, she started chanting. A feeling like a mild electric shock spread from her hand across Sam’s skin and both he and Dean arched into the touch as if compelled. When she removed her hand Sam shivered and Dean rubbed his own hand over his tattoo. They locked gazes, and Sam saw the question in Dean’s that must have been mirrored in his own.
Gwenoch pressed a light kiss to Dean’s mouth. “I will miss you, Dean.” Her smile was sorrowful.
The last thing Sam saw before his eyes closed and he fell into sleep were Gwenoch’s fingers coming towards his face.
Sam woke to the morning sun streaming through the leaves. He registered immediately that they were no longer in fairy. He felt the warm flesh pressed up against his, and his mind was slow to catch up. Dean wiggled up against him and Sam cursed the bitch for leaving them naked, but it wasn’t unexpected. Relief flooded his brain when he noticed that Dean’s collar was gone.
Dean murmured and turned so that he was curled facing Sam. Sam’s breath caught in his throat. His brother looked beautiful and innocent in sleep, lashes fanned against his cheek, light crashing through the leaves, painting his skin dappled. This was the first time Sam had seen him without the glamour and Dean looked so damn young and vulnerable. When he’d been twelve and Dean had really been sixteen, Sam had thought his brother was the biggest, strongest person he’d ever seen, next to their Dad. Looking now, Sam realized Dean had been a kid, a well-trained, finely honed kid full of bravado, but still just a kid.
Without thinking Sam raised a hand and brushed it over the curve of Dean’s cheek. Sam hadn’t thought he could love Dean anymore, but he felt something inside him expanding, filling, needing to be as close as possible to his brother. Tight behind it eas the rush of guilt. Now that he had a choice, he couldn’t take advantage of Dean, even if the only thing he was thinking about was how much he’d like to wake Dean up by putting his mouth over every inch of sunlit skin. Sam wished with all his heart that what Gwenoch had done to them didn’t leave him feeling so unsettled, his skin too tight, and his head throbbing.
Sam couldn’t resist passing a hand down his brother’s back, for maybe the last time like this, even if it meant stealing it from Dean’s sleep. Dean rolled in closer and threw a leg over Sam’s waist. Sam felt Dean’s hand at his chest, slowly moving its way lower. Sam grabbed the hand and looked at Dean’s face. His brother’s eyes were shut, and his lips were far too close. Crap, he hadn’t been this close a minute ago, and Sam couldn’t recall moving closer, but he must have. Sam quickly untangled himself from Dean and moved away. It hurt, inside, an actual physical pain, as he made himself do the opposite of what he wanted.
“Come here, Sammy.” Sam felt Dean’s hand clamp down on his wrist as he tried to move away. Dean wasn’t really restraining him, couldn’t anymore. The hand around his wrist looked so small, but Sam couldn’t pull away.
Sam looked at Dean, and let his brother tug him closer. Dean’s eyes were open now, and there was no mistaking what Dean wanted.
“Dean, we can’t.” Sam was aware it sounded more like a question than he meant it to.
“A little too late for can’t, don’t you think?” Dean hadn’t stopped tugging, and Sam closed his eyes, to distance himself from what the image of his far too sexy brother was doing to him, draining from him the will to resist.
“Dean, do you know who I am?” When his brother didn’t answer, Sam opened his eyes to see Dean staring at him with amusement.
“I remember everything.” That declaration didn’t seem to stop Dean’s hand gliding up his arm or the incremental shift of his lips coming closer.
In a last desperate measure to stop, Sam said, “Dean, public park. We need to get dressed and get out of here.”
Dean quirked an eyebrow and grinned at him. “You stash some clothes around here genius?”
“As a matter of fact…yes. Good of you to finally acknowledge my superior intelligence.” Sam knew he was smirking and was pleased to lord his preparedness over Dean.
“Whatever,” Dean responded.
“Oooh. Clever comeback.” Dean scowled.
Sam got up, then, carefully kept his eyes off Dean’s nakedness, thankful for the brotherly banter to cover his confusion. He started looking around to see if he could find the rock pile where he had stashed some provisions before. A few minutes later he found the stash and pulled out Dean’s clothes.
He looked at Dean with a rueful apology as he tossed him briefs, tee and jeans. “Sorry. We can get you some new things later.” Sam wondered how Dean was going to take it, being stuck with his sixteen-year-old body.
They dressed quickly and polished off the water and energy bars Sam had stashed. Dean grimaced the whole time.
“As soon as we get me some clothes we’re getting some decent food,” Dean said. Sam smiled and thought at least some things were still the same.
As they walked out of the park, Sam couldn’t help stealing glances at Dean. He looked small and vulnerable in the now oversized clothes, and Sam wanted so badly to just pull Dean against him and protect him, shelter him, take care of him. Something changed while they were in fairy, beyond the obvious physical things they had done. He had started feeling it there, every time he looked at his brother, the sweeping sensation of mine, protect, hold, something possessive and loving. Something that, if Sam was completely honest with himself, felt a lot like being in love. He’d believed it was just part of the crap that was happening to them in fairy, but he couldn’t shake it and didn’t know if he wanted to. His thoughts ground down then. He couldn’t feel this way again. He’d pushed all those feelings away, never letting them come to the light of day.
Looking at Dean striding a few paces in front of him, the truth beat against his head, loud and clear. He was completely, helplessly in love with his brother. They were both so royally screwed.
They made a quick run for new clothes for Dean and some fast food. They were both exhausted, mind and body. Sam took first shower and then Dean took his. As he cleaned up Dean examined himself in the mirror. He couldn’t believe he looked this way except there was no way to deny what he saw in the mirror. His hair was longer, but there had been no time for a cut. He looked sixteen, maybe younger. He’d always appeared a little younger than his actual years.
The only mark still on his body was the tattoo that, for whatever reason, Gwenoch had not removed. Even the print of Cas’s hand was removed. It was odd, unsettling, but Dean knew it pleased Sam. Dean reached up tracing his features, watching his reflection do the same. Dean couldn’t entirely wrap his mind around it. It didn’t seem real until he saw it, like this, undeniable evidence reflected in glass.
Dean dried himself off, watching Sam, already under the covers, trying to get comfortable. Dean dressed in his new smaller boxer briefs and tee, his mouth drawn tight. He wasn’t thrilled about his new status.
Dean walked over to the bed Sam was laying in and pulled back the comforter and sheet. Before Sam could offer protest, Dean straddled his brother, and ran his hands up the gorgeous length of Sam’s chest. He wanted so bad to do this while he was in his right mind, free of fairy influence. Dean felt Sam’s nipples harden under his palms and leaned down to kiss him.
One of Sam’s huge hands plastered itself to Dean’s chest. It was equal parts frustrating that Sam could now stop him that easily and ‘holy freaking hot Batman’ that Sam could do anything he wanted with Dean and he would be powerless to stop him.
“Dean, what the hell?”
“What? You need a manual, Sam? From what I’ve seen you’ve got a pretty good idea what I’m doing.”
“Dean that wasn’t - ” Sam’s voice dropped, and he turned to look hard at the wall. “I raped you.”
Dean sighed. “That’s not exactly how I remember it. I wasn’t saying no, Sam.”
Now Sam sighed and Dean saw the guilt etched on Sam’s face. “You couldn’t, Dean, and neither could I.”
“So, you’re saying you didn’t want to?” Dean smothered the hurt and kept his voice carefully neutral.
Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Dean do you hear yourself?”
“You didn’t seem to have problem a couple of days ago.” Dean couldn’t stop his shoulders from drooping
“Dean, I had to. It was the only way to get you out.”
"What about all the times you didn’t have to? I seem to remember more than one.” Dean knew getting Sam pissed off was not the way to get what he wanted, but goddamn it, Sam could turn anything into a massive epic emotional drama fest.
He watched Sam’s throat work, swallowing. Sam’s voice was filled with hurt and so low Dean almost couldn’t hear it. “I was weak, and I took advantage of you. I’m sorry.”
“Well, I have a choice now, and so do you.” Dean ground down against Sam’s erection with his own.
Sam’s hips jumped, a low moan issuing from his mouth. “Doesn’t exactly look like a ‘no’ to me Sammy.”
“Stop, Dean.” Dean immediately quit moving and rolled off of Sam. Seducing Sam was one thing, but he’d never force him into anything. “I’m not saying I don’t want to. I just don’t trust this.” Sam sounded genuinely concerned, and Dean reacted the only way he knew how, his own worry rising in response to Sam’s.
“What do you mean?”
“I know Gwenoch said she reversed everything, but can we just put this on hold until after we get to Bobby’s? He should be able to help me determine if you’ve been unnaturally influenced or if this is really you. Think about it, Dean. Was this something you ever wanted before?” Sam looked earnest and hopeful. Dean couldn’t deny the sense of what Sam said, despite what his dick might be saying.
“Yeah, okay, we’ve got to head to Bobby’s, anyway.” Dean said, avoiding directly answering Sam’s question. How in the hell do you just come out and say, ‘I’ve lusted after you since you were old enough to know what your dick was for.’
Dean excused himself to the bathroom. There was no way in hell his sixteen-year-old dick was going to be talked down. He turned on the water, although Sam probably knew what he was doing in here anyway. Dean pulled his briefs down below his balls, grabbed his dick and ruthlessly stroked. In his head, he pictured Sam moving over him, eyes covetous, chest streaked with sweat and hair flying. In less than a minute he was coming in the sink.
God, he was so frustrated by his fucking stubborn brother, but he knew how hard it would be to change Sam’s mind. It was hard to answer Sam’s questions about when he started feeling this way about Sam. All he knew for sure was that when he was in fairy and Sam told him they were brothers, it hadn’t brought him any feelings of shame or guilt.
After getting out, that hadn’t changed. He understood that he should feel like it was wrong, but he didn’t. Nothing ever felt more right than when he’d felt Sam inside him, even through the drug and lust haze, it was so fucking right. Did he have these feelings for Sam before? He couldn’t say it never crossed his mind. He'd never loved anyone the way he loved Sam and probably never would again. That naturally led Dean to some sexual thoughts. Dean just tucked those ideas in the same box with his all his other dreams that were never going to happen and didn’t dwell on it.
When he exited the bathroom, he stood between the two beds. He wanted so bad just to feel close to Sam and he knew his brother wasn’t asleep. He could tell from his breathing. Dean took a deep breath and forced it out quickly. “Can I sleep here?” Even in the dark Dean could see Sam’s quick grin as he raised his arm lifting the covers for Dean to slide in. Damn it, when did he turn into a fucking girl. Maybe Sam had a point. Maybe he still was under the influence of fairy. The thought didn’t stop Dean from curving into Sam and sliding a leg between his brother’s. He did manage to hold back the sigh of contentment. No way was he giving Sam any more ammunition.
Part 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 woke to the far off sound of music and the scent of something that smelled like butter and cinnamon. He was still in the bower, where he’d fallen asleep after a night of sex. Sex with your brother, his mind helpfully, provided.
He found that getting to his hands and knees on orange satin sheets and crossing an expanse almost as wide as a small lake wasn’t as easy at it seemed. Anything that approached grace went by the wayside as he slipped and slid to the edge of the massive bed.
He kept a bit of sheet covering his essentials as he plowed into the breakfast that someone left by the bed and that he assumed was for him. Piled near the, now empty, plates, was a length of cloth. It was similar in color and pattern to the one that Dean wore. Sam spent fifteen frustrating minutes trying to get it wrapped around him. He knew it looked ridiculous, but at least he wasn’t hanging out anywhere.
He walked down what amounted to a hallway made of trees until it opened into an amphitheater of sorts. Terraced steps were made from earth and covered in green and yellow grasses. In the center depression, appeared to be some kind of performance art. What looked to be nothing more than bundles of twigs rearranged themselves into various shapes. As each new shape quit writhing, a smattering of applause sounded over the area.
Sam wanted nothing more than to find Dean, right now, and grabbed the arm of the next individual he passed. Sam found himself looking up into eyes three shades of gold, rimmed in green. Sam startled; he wasn’t used to looking up at anyone, but this amber maned man topped him by a good six inches, maybe more. If it wasn’t for the crinkled corners of the man’s eyes, Sam might have felt intimidated.
“What can I do for you, toy?”
That was offensive, and before Sam remembered that seven feet of pure muscle had just nearly knocked him over with a small clap on the back, he growled, “I’m nobody’s fucking toy.”
The man threw back his head, long column of throat exposed in the morning light, and laughed. Then he ran the hand on Sam’s shoulder down his back and rested it on the curve of his waist. “Ah human, I hear that fucking toy is exactly what you are, emphasis on the fucking.” The man’s growl put Sam’s to shame, except it was laced with smoke and sex, and Sam felt himself shiver under the man’s hand. Sam swallowed hard, trying to remember what he was doing.
He finally croaked out, “Have you seen my brother, Dean?”
The man placed his other hand on the opposite side of Sam’s waist and turned him. The man’s hands were massive and Sam realized his own hands would be swallowed by them. The guy plucked at the cloth Sam was wearing, pulling, and tucking, and grazing at least once across Sam’s dick. The light in the man’s eyes, left Sam in little doubt that the touch wasn’t accidental. Sam remained passive under the attention, and against his will, his dick gave an interested twitch.
Stepping back and resting his fists to his hips, the man finally seemed satisfied with his handiwork. He looked Sam up and down commenting, “There, I think you’ll find the kilt more comfortable now.”
Sam thought about thanking the man, but just in case it was taken as a, ‘thank you for groping me,’ he just pinched his lips shut. The man pointed over Sam’s shoulder. “Take that second path. He should be out that way.” Sam nodded his thanks and turned but didn’t walk away fast enough to avoid the slap on his ass from his admirer. Heat rose from his sternum to his face, and he couldn’t decide if it was embarrassment or arousal.
Sam kept going until the tree-hung path opened into a field surrounded by more trees and additional paths. The whole thing was about half a football field across. He couldn’t take his eyes off the spectacle that greeted him. All he could see of Dean was his brother’s head. He was lying down and the rest of him appeared to be completely covered in shards of colored glass.
“Dean.” Sam called out. The noise was weirdly echoed out in several softer ‘Deans’ carrying across the clearing. Sam watched stunned as the colored bits flapped and rose into he air revealing themselves to be the wings of the small fairies. Sam didn’t want to know what Dean had been doing underneath a blanket of fairies; he just didn’t.
Dean raised himself up on his elbows, happy smile all over his face, “Morning, sunshine.”
Sam’s heart stuttered, something cracked inside, a normal Dean greeting on anything but a normal morning, but Sam couldn’t help smiling back. It was so fucking fabulous to see Dean so damn happy, unfettered by the past, relaxed and content.
Sam sat down cross-legged next to Dean’s hip. “Dean, we need to talk.” Dean’s face instantly darkened. Apparently, even wiped memory, fairy enchanted Dean didn’t like heart to hearts. Before Sam could process it, Dean’s hands were running up his chest and Dean’s mouth closed over his, wet, hot, and dirty wrong. Sam let himself sink into the kiss for a moment and then pressed against Dean, saying, “Dean, we can’t.”
Oh God, Sam was pretty sure he couldn’t breathe. The hurt that crossed Dean’s face tore at his insides. Dean looked over Sam’s shoulder, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes.
Sam continued, “Dean we’re brothers. Do you know what that means?”
“Yeah, Sam, I know what the term means. We have the same mother and father.” Sam watched Dean’s fingers pluck at the metallic threads on his kilt.
“Well, brothers don’t kiss.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure they don’t blow each other either, but I damn sure didn’t dream your pretty lips wrapped around my cock last night.” The anger and pain in Dean’s words lashed out at him.
“That wasn’t exactly my choice, and we’ve never done anything like that before.” Sam kept his voice low and carefully neutral.
“That was the before. I don’t remember the before. I like now.” Dean said it with all the petulance of an authentic sixteen-year-old, or maybe a six-year-old. “I think you like the now too, right?”
Dean’s eyes were wide and almost wet, and Sam wondered for a minute if this was the look that Dean always referred to as his puppy eyes. If it was, Sam understood Dean’s hatred of the look and his total inability to withstand the effect. Sam knew, right then, he would do absolutely anything to take that look off of Dean’s face. He couldn’t, just couldn’t make himself stomp all over Dean’s vulnerability.
Sam gathered his courage, expanded his chest and cupped Dean’s face in his hands. Dean’s eyes were all the colors of grass, and Sam felt himself falling into them, never wanting to stop. “Yeah Dean, I like the now too.”
That was all the permission Dean needed. He had his hands all over Sam’s chest as he pushed his brother to the ground and knelt over him. Dean’s lips grazed his jaw and nibbled around his neck and sucked right into the spot behind his ear that drove him crazy.
“Fuck, Dean.” Dean’s smutty laugh tingled in his ear, and Dean’s hands never stopped moving. He had both of them stripped and naked in less than a minute. Dean slipped between Sam’s legs. Sam could feel his brother, hard, heavy and leaking pre-come, and moved his hand over Dean’s slender hips, cupping his ass, grinding them together. He wanted to feel every glorious inch of that skin touching his and wrapped his legs around Dean’s, twining their ankles together.
Dean’s voice came out high, breaking, “Oh God, Sammy, feels so good.” Sam gripped Dean hard enough that it was going to leave bruises and began rocking them in a rhythm that slid their cocks together. Dean squirmed on top of him, making sounds that Sam couldn’t get enough of. Dean’s grunts, moans, and breathless sighs wound into his heart and made it sing. Sam kept moving them as Dean nibbled down his neck and across his collar bone, mumbling incoherent breathy words into Sam’s skin that turned into, “Sam, Sam, Sam.” Dean convulsed, hips pushing down hard as he came. The minute Sam felt the hot wetness across his dick, his balls tightened. He bit down on Dean’s shoulder and bucked into his own orgasm, adding to the slick mess between them.
Sam let one hand drift slowly up Dean’s sweaty skin and cupped his head, pulled Dean into him and opened his mouth over Dean’s, laving into his mouth. Dean kissed back like he couldn’t get enough, skimming his tongue over Sam’s lower lip and biting down just enough to make Sam moan. Dean pulled back, grinned ear to ear, and slid so he was curled around Sam’s side. Never taking his eyes from Sam’s, Dean ran his hand over Sam’s belly and slowly brought his hand to his mouth, licking it clean.
Sam gasped, “Holy fuck, Dean.” Dean’s tongue, tasting come-slick fingers was carnal and erotic and about the hottest, dirtiest thing Sam had ever seen. Because he couldn’t resist, Sam dragged Dean’s neck to his mouth, clamped down and sucked until Dean was squirming next to him, letting out little whimpers. Sam let go. and they both flopped onto their backs.
Dean grabbed one of the cloth strips, wiped himself and tossed it to Sam. Sam cleaned up, and they lay there at arms length, heads turned and facing each other.
“Want to feel something great?” Dean asked.
Sam threw Dean a goofy grin, completely out of his head with happiness. “I think I just did.”
Dean huffed out a laugh then emitted a high pitched whistle. The sky above them shifted from blue to a flurry of colored wings and a cacophony of musical sounds.
“Stay still,” Dean said. Sam held his breath, his hand twined with Dean’s, and watched as the flittering colored bits descended. Diminutive hands and feet settled against his skin, then falling to their bellies, more and more of them, wings overlapping until both he and Dean were covered neck to toe in a rainbow hued, winged quilt. Then they moved, caressing him everywhere. It was almost too much sensation, and Sam groaned, body arching as he felt himself begin to harden again. The small figures kept moving, and Sam heard the small whimpers fall helplessly from his mouth. He felt Dean’s fingers snake through his own and turned to fall into his brother’s gaze, grounded in the love he saw there.
Sam could feel his body undulating, moving to feel a hundred caresses and then, suddenly, Dean slapped his hand on the ground and yelled. The fairies rose in a tornado of color and sound that left Sam breathless and awed. Sunlight streamed through the rainbow wings, every hue imaginable shifting overhead, painting them in a variegated prism of light. Wide-eyed he turned to Dean. The pure joy on Dean’s face, his obvious happiness in sharing this, snagged Sam’s heart, making it beat so hard he thought it might actually burst from his chest.
Sam didn’t know how his talk about appropriate brotherly affection had turned into this, and frankly, he didn’t care.
“You know it’s another hour until lunch,” Dean said, low and suggestive. Sam didn’t have to use his imagination as Dean rolled over and placed his lips to Sam’s.
Dean had experienced so many varying sensations since entering fairy. No matter what he had experienced here, when Sam touched him, everything else paled. No food or drink or glamour was as addictive as his brother’s touch. He knew Sam felt guilty, watched it cross his brother’s face, but as much as he sympathized, the same feelings didn’t resonate in Dean. All he wanted was to get his hands all over a naked Sam, have Sam all over him, in him. Just the thought was enough to get Dean going.
His favorite times here now were the times he spent alone with Sam. They spent almost every afternoon in a small glade that Dean had found. Trees with leaves shaped like balloon hands, the sky, today, cast in bright blue dotted with puff paint clouds. The trees reflected back in the clear turquoise of the small pond, dappled light filtering down through the leaves.
He and Sam were sitting on flat shelf of rock that bordered one edge of the pool. They’d spent the better part of the afternoon fishing, releasing what they caught and throwing it back at the request of the Nyad who lived there.
Sam talked to him about sports, and guns, and a black Impala, that apparently Dean was quite attached to. Sam never talked about anything serious, and Dean didn’t ask, as if they had silently agreed not to bring up the darker aspects of the past. Dean knew those aspects existed, because Sam would stumble over a word or change thoughts in the middle of the conversation, his face going pensive and dark. It was easy and relaxed and happy. Dean, of course, couldn’t remember if they’d been like this before. From what he could read from Sam, he suspected that, if they had been like this, it hadn’t been that way in a very long time.
The air was filled with the sound of the cascading waterfall. A small group of Fae across the pond from them played musical instruments, one of them a goat-legged man, which Sam had just asked about.
“That’s Pan.”
“The God, Pan?”
“The one and only.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah he’s been rutting around after me since the day I got here.”
Sam couldn’t bring himself to ask Dean outright if he fucked the goat man, but nothing he saw here would surprise him anymore. He raised his brow and looked questioningly at Dean.
Dean looked disgusted and said, “Dude, what part of smelly goat guy, don’t you get? No fucking way. Although the nymphs…” Dean’s voice trailed off, and the lascivious look on his face was all Dean. Sam laughed out loud. That sound ran into Dean, a hot swirl of joy, and he was laughing, too. Even in his own head, in this removed place, Dean’s mind skittered over the word perfect, part of him whispering too good to be true, but the greater part of him was sure this was perfect.
“Sam,” Gwenoch called rousing Sam from slumber. Sam’s hand rested against Dean’s hip. Gwenoch sat naked on Dean’s other side. Sam blinked back sleep and pulled himself upright. Sam looked around and noted they were no longer in Gwenoch’s bed.
The three of them were on top of a hill, surrounded by more hills rolling in every direction. Unlike the rest of fairy that Sam had seen, the area here was void of trees, the grass was yellow where it grew at all and it was silent, unnaturally quiet, no sound of anything living.
“Sam, are you with me?” Amusement curved her lips, and Sam turned his gaze back to Gwenoch.
“Yeah.”
“Today is your last day here, if you fulfill your part and complete the ritual I require of you.”
“Not likely to refuse, am I?”
“I don’t know, Sam. Isn’t staying here even a little bit tempting?” Her tone is teasing, and Sam can’t help smiling a bit.
Truthfully, the time he’s been in fairy has, in some ways, seemed like a vacation. But, he knew Dean, knew if Dean were complete and not under the influence, he wouldn’t choose to stay. As for his inclinations, well, fairy was certainly sin and temptation in one neat package, but he thought an eternity of it might turn him to things he would rather not be part of. He had seen at least some of the politics and darkness the court offered. He suspected there were things darker than either he or Dean had seen, but that Gwenoch had protected them from for reasons of her own. Sam also understood that the world they’d left needed them, and he finally felt that he fit into that role, in a way he never believed he could.
“So what do I need to do?”
“This is something both of you will be doing, Sam. You will make love to Dean, here, on this hill.”
If she had asked this of him when he first came her, he couldn’t have done it, but now, after everything he’d seen and done, the idea of watching Dean come apart underneath him, made his hands shake and his heart thud.
“I -" He understood he should object, but he couldn’t get it out. His heart wasn’t in it.
“Oh, Sam, Sam, Sam. I can see it you, you know. That dark desire to own your brother. This version of Dean is very tempting to you isn’t it, pristine, untouched, virginal. He doesn’t even have the scars he had at sixteen, does he? And, that nasty angel mark you hated so much, gone. All that beautiful freckled skin, Sam, and you want to put your hands all over it, until Dean knows he’s yours, so everyone who sees him knows he’s yours.”
Sam swallowed, “Virginal?”
“In this one sense, yes. He’s never been with another man like this Sam. Had someone inside him.”
God, he was getting half-hard just thinking about it, so apparently this wasn’t going to be problematic for him.
“What about Dean?”
“Sam, he wants it, too, but I expect you will need to hear his confirmation for yourself. That’s part of why I arranged this. I knew you both wanted it. Desire, sex, seed, love and a willing sacrifice of something never before given-- these are powerful magics.” She looked up at Sam from the corner of her eyes, “You know that. Your joining will bring life to this part of fairy.”
He did know that, and God help him, she wasn’t wrong about how he felt either. The thought that no one had ever been like this with Dean made Sam ache, chest and cock, made Sam want to mark him, own him, devour him.
It was all mixed up in his head, this version of Dean: Dean as he’d loved him, Dean who had always protected him, mixed up and jumbled, swirled into a tempest of need and desire stronger than he’d ever felt for anyone else. Added like a spice was the, ‘dirty, bad, wrong,’ of ‘brother,’ and, ‘sixteen’ and it was so fucking hot it made the sun pale.
Dean seemed so small and fragile still sleeping, stretched out on the grass. Logically Sam knew that wasn’t true. Dean at this age, was bigger than a lot of grown men, but when Sam stretched his hands across Dean’s belly, palms splayed, and the tips of his fingers disappeared around the curve of his brother’s waist, it made Dean seem breakable. The combination of all the love that was from his yesterdays, suffused with this new gobbling crazy desire to claim his brother for his own made Sam protective, possessive, and wild.
Gwenoch pressed two fingers to Dean’s head ,and Sam heard the word 'wake' on the wind. Dean’s eyes fluttered open, hazy from sleep, and a smile curved over his face as he looked at Sam. “Hey, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was husky from sleep and went straight to Sam’s dick, not that he needed any help, already hard and aching.
“Dean -" Sam didn’t know what to say. Even without his memory, Dean seemed to know what Sam needed.
Dean sat up, smile bright enough to blind, ran his hand up the side of Sam’s face and into his hair. Dean made the first move, pulling Sam’s lips to his own, which was good, because Sam didn’t think he could, not even as much as he wanted this, he couldn’t initiate it. Dean’s mouth opened under his, and it was sweet and slow, tongue twined kisses pressed one on top of the other, and Dean’s hands moving in reassurance as he devoured Sam’s mouth.
Gwenoch had moved off their hill and across the empty plain. Her hands were raised to the sky, which swirled over them, a finger painted canvas in rose, cerulean, and lilac. A chant curled on the air and moved like the hum of a coming storm.
Dean pulled him, and they both fell supine to the ground, Sam lying against Dean’s side. Sam spread his palm wide on Dean’s belly, the dusting of hair soft against his fingers as he caressed tender skin. Sam lowered his mouth to meet his hand, tracing the skin of Dean’s belly between each of his fingers. Dean’s muscles jumped under his tongue, and his hips bucked when Sam circled his belly button.
Sam wanted to take his time with this, the last time before they left, but the magic was gathering, and he felt it singing in his veins. Sam knew, looking at Dean, that Dean felt it. too. His brother’s pupils were a black pool rimmed in moss, and Dean’s dick was hard against his belly and leaking pre-come.
Dean grabbed a pot of something near where they were laying that Sam hadn’t noticed before and handed it to him. Sam took it and frowned at Dean, not understanding. Dean rolled his eyes and at the same time he flushed head to toe. Sam was never going to get tired of that. Dean blushing was toe curling joy and raging arousal that flooded his heart, bursting into every vein and cell.
Dean reached out for the jar, opened it, and tossed the lid aside before dipping his fingers in. When Dean brought his hand down between his legs and slid the slick finger into his ass, the light in Sam’s head finally went on. He grabbed the jar from Dean and lubed his fingers, then touched Dean’s rim where the muscle clenched around Dean’s finger, so turned on that he could barely think, and dying to get inside Dean, to feel that tight heat around his own fingers.
“Come on, Sammy.” Dean said as he pushed up against Sam. The intimacy of his finger sliding in against Dean’s nearly undid him. Nothing in Sam’s experience had prepared him for the wide open unfurling of emotions in every part of him. Dean’s fingers slick against his own, the two of them together in Dean’s body. Sam blinked, overwhelmed and flying apart under the emotional assault. When Dean was writhing and panting, fucking up onto their fingers, Sam pushed a third in and began twisting and curling his fingers to open Dean up.
Dean’s groans sounded across the plain, loud and filled with longing. “Now Sammy, need you.” Dean’s gaze pierced his and Sam wanted to take Dean, mark every inch of him, fierce and primal need blinding him to everything but the desire to be buried inside of Dean.
When he pulled Dean forward onto his thighs, he felt Dean’s surrender in the shudder that moved under his hands. Sam knew in that moment there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Dean, that he was Dean’s completely and forever. When he pressed the tip of his cock to Dean’s hole, he saw it clench and Dean’s whole body shake, practically begging. “Please Sam.” Dean’s words came out torn and pleading, his eyes were wide and dark as dense forest with lust, and his body was bowed, on the edge and waiting for whatever Sam wanted to do with him.
“So beautiful like this Dean, fuck.”
Sam pushed forward, and Dean planted his feet to the ground, hips rising, to meet him. Sam buried himself in Dean and Dean’s legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging discomfort into the small of Sam’s back. Sam shifted, feeling every particle of skin where he was inside Dean and he leaned into the strokes, hands grounded flat to the soil, knees braced. Sam moved, wild and hard, trying to get deeper, closer. Dean rose to meet every thrust, unrestrained, muscles corded, as he pushed up onto his elbows.
They strained into each other, chasing, pushing in tandem with the spell that was building. Sam moved one hand and wrapped it around Dean’s cock. Dean stuttered and groaned, “Please, now, Sam,” dropping from his mouth in stilted gasps. Sam moved his hand up Dean’s cock and back down again, flick of the wrist at the top, as brutal and harsh as his rutting hips.
Dean shot across his hand, pearled streams arcing over Dean’s belly and chest, and still he rocked under Sam, head back, eyes locked to Sam’s beneath fluttering lashes. As the last of Dean’s orgasm moved through his body, Sam felt it pulsing around him, and he went over the edge, shattered and flying apart, coming deep inside his brother’s body.
Sam fell to his elbows, trying to not collapse completely onto Dean. Both of them sweaty, panting and shaken, too hard to look, yet unable to drag their gazes away. Sam moved one hand up, brushing Dean’s hair from his forehead, dragging a thumb down Dean’s forehead, over his nose and rested, light against his bottom lip. Then Dean’s mouth turned up, smile sublime, and Sam answered back with his own.
The sky swirled, and the air was alive with a static charge as the spell culminated. Sam moved to lay next to Dean, and they both watched Gwenoch. Outlined against the sky he could see a shape behind her, a gold shadow laced with orange, wider than she was tall-- wings. Sam’s jaw dropped and Dean gasped, so Sam knew he wasn’t imagining things. Sam had assumed the larger Fae didn’t have wings, never having seen them manifest, but obviously he had been mistaken.
As they sat, the magic swept across the plain. The yellow grasses changed to greens, varying in size and variety. Small clumps of bushes manifested, and the air resounded with chirps and chatters, alive. It was like watching one of those old cartoons where the colors swept across black and white, the change dramatic, without pause, flowing over everything in front of it and making it new.
Gwenoch lowered her arms, and the air snapped and cracked as the wings were once again gone. She moved towards them across the now blooming fields. She glowed, that was the only word for it. Smile fierce and triumphant, skin gleaming under the sun. Once she crested the hill where they lay, she knelt to the side of Dean where Sam wasn’t.
“Your seed along with your bothers spilled here in love, will double my kingdom. I would have bargained your brother back to you for this alone.”
Sam thought he should be angrier than he was at that confession, but really he couldn’t regret too much that had happened here.
Gwenoch continued, “You have served fairy well, and I would reward you.” She pressed one hand to Dean’s chest where his tattoo was and her other to the same spot on Sam. Before either man could react, she started chanting. A feeling like a mild electric shock spread from her hand across Sam’s skin and both he and Dean arched into the touch as if compelled. When she removed her hand Sam shivered and Dean rubbed his own hand over his tattoo. They locked gazes, and Sam saw the question in Dean’s that must have been mirrored in his own.
Gwenoch pressed a light kiss to Dean’s mouth. “I will miss you, Dean.” Her smile was sorrowful.
The last thing Sam saw before his eyes closed and he fell into sleep were Gwenoch’s fingers coming towards his face.
Sam woke to the morning sun streaming through the leaves. He registered immediately that they were no longer in fairy. He felt the warm flesh pressed up against his, and his mind was slow to catch up. Dean wiggled up against him and Sam cursed the bitch for leaving them naked, but it wasn’t unexpected. Relief flooded his brain when he noticed that Dean’s collar was gone.
Dean murmured and turned so that he was curled facing Sam. Sam’s breath caught in his throat. His brother looked beautiful and innocent in sleep, lashes fanned against his cheek, light crashing through the leaves, painting his skin dappled. This was the first time Sam had seen him without the glamour and Dean looked so damn young and vulnerable. When he’d been twelve and Dean had really been sixteen, Sam had thought his brother was the biggest, strongest person he’d ever seen, next to their Dad. Looking now, Sam realized Dean had been a kid, a well-trained, finely honed kid full of bravado, but still just a kid.
Without thinking Sam raised a hand and brushed it over the curve of Dean’s cheek. Sam hadn’t thought he could love Dean anymore, but he felt something inside him expanding, filling, needing to be as close as possible to his brother. Tight behind it eas the rush of guilt. Now that he had a choice, he couldn’t take advantage of Dean, even if the only thing he was thinking about was how much he’d like to wake Dean up by putting his mouth over every inch of sunlit skin. Sam wished with all his heart that what Gwenoch had done to them didn’t leave him feeling so unsettled, his skin too tight, and his head throbbing.
Sam couldn’t resist passing a hand down his brother’s back, for maybe the last time like this, even if it meant stealing it from Dean’s sleep. Dean rolled in closer and threw a leg over Sam’s waist. Sam felt Dean’s hand at his chest, slowly moving its way lower. Sam grabbed the hand and looked at Dean’s face. His brother’s eyes were shut, and his lips were far too close. Crap, he hadn’t been this close a minute ago, and Sam couldn’t recall moving closer, but he must have. Sam quickly untangled himself from Dean and moved away. It hurt, inside, an actual physical pain, as he made himself do the opposite of what he wanted.
“Come here, Sammy.” Sam felt Dean’s hand clamp down on his wrist as he tried to move away. Dean wasn’t really restraining him, couldn’t anymore. The hand around his wrist looked so small, but Sam couldn’t pull away.
Sam looked at Dean, and let his brother tug him closer. Dean’s eyes were open now, and there was no mistaking what Dean wanted.
“Dean, we can’t.” Sam was aware it sounded more like a question than he meant it to.
“A little too late for can’t, don’t you think?” Dean hadn’t stopped tugging, and Sam closed his eyes, to distance himself from what the image of his far too sexy brother was doing to him, draining from him the will to resist.
“Dean, do you know who I am?” When his brother didn’t answer, Sam opened his eyes to see Dean staring at him with amusement.
“I remember everything.” That declaration didn’t seem to stop Dean’s hand gliding up his arm or the incremental shift of his lips coming closer.
In a last desperate measure to stop, Sam said, “Dean, public park. We need to get dressed and get out of here.”
Dean quirked an eyebrow and grinned at him. “You stash some clothes around here genius?”
“As a matter of fact…yes. Good of you to finally acknowledge my superior intelligence.” Sam knew he was smirking and was pleased to lord his preparedness over Dean.
“Whatever,” Dean responded.
“Oooh. Clever comeback.” Dean scowled.
Sam got up, then, carefully kept his eyes off Dean’s nakedness, thankful for the brotherly banter to cover his confusion. He started looking around to see if he could find the rock pile where he had stashed some provisions before. A few minutes later he found the stash and pulled out Dean’s clothes.
He looked at Dean with a rueful apology as he tossed him briefs, tee and jeans. “Sorry. We can get you some new things later.” Sam wondered how Dean was going to take it, being stuck with his sixteen-year-old body.
They dressed quickly and polished off the water and energy bars Sam had stashed. Dean grimaced the whole time.
“As soon as we get me some clothes we’re getting some decent food,” Dean said. Sam smiled and thought at least some things were still the same.
As they walked out of the park, Sam couldn’t help stealing glances at Dean. He looked small and vulnerable in the now oversized clothes, and Sam wanted so badly to just pull Dean against him and protect him, shelter him, take care of him. Something changed while they were in fairy, beyond the obvious physical things they had done. He had started feeling it there, every time he looked at his brother, the sweeping sensation of mine, protect, hold, something possessive and loving. Something that, if Sam was completely honest with himself, felt a lot like being in love. He’d believed it was just part of the crap that was happening to them in fairy, but he couldn’t shake it and didn’t know if he wanted to. His thoughts ground down then. He couldn’t feel this way again. He’d pushed all those feelings away, never letting them come to the light of day.
Looking at Dean striding a few paces in front of him, the truth beat against his head, loud and clear. He was completely, helplessly in love with his brother. They were both so royally screwed.
They made a quick run for new clothes for Dean and some fast food. They were both exhausted, mind and body. Sam took first shower and then Dean took his. As he cleaned up Dean examined himself in the mirror. He couldn’t believe he looked this way except there was no way to deny what he saw in the mirror. His hair was longer, but there had been no time for a cut. He looked sixteen, maybe younger. He’d always appeared a little younger than his actual years.
The only mark still on his body was the tattoo that, for whatever reason, Gwenoch had not removed. Even the print of Cas’s hand was removed. It was odd, unsettling, but Dean knew it pleased Sam. Dean reached up tracing his features, watching his reflection do the same. Dean couldn’t entirely wrap his mind around it. It didn’t seem real until he saw it, like this, undeniable evidence reflected in glass.
Dean dried himself off, watching Sam, already under the covers, trying to get comfortable. Dean dressed in his new smaller boxer briefs and tee, his mouth drawn tight. He wasn’t thrilled about his new status.
Dean walked over to the bed Sam was laying in and pulled back the comforter and sheet. Before Sam could offer protest, Dean straddled his brother, and ran his hands up the gorgeous length of Sam’s chest. He wanted so bad to do this while he was in his right mind, free of fairy influence. Dean felt Sam’s nipples harden under his palms and leaned down to kiss him.
One of Sam’s huge hands plastered itself to Dean’s chest. It was equal parts frustrating that Sam could now stop him that easily and ‘holy freaking hot Batman’ that Sam could do anything he wanted with Dean and he would be powerless to stop him.
“Dean, what the hell?”
“What? You need a manual, Sam? From what I’ve seen you’ve got a pretty good idea what I’m doing.”
“Dean that wasn’t - ” Sam’s voice dropped, and he turned to look hard at the wall. “I raped you.”
Dean sighed. “That’s not exactly how I remember it. I wasn’t saying no, Sam.”
Now Sam sighed and Dean saw the guilt etched on Sam’s face. “You couldn’t, Dean, and neither could I.”
“So, you’re saying you didn’t want to?” Dean smothered the hurt and kept his voice carefully neutral.
Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Dean do you hear yourself?”
“You didn’t seem to have problem a couple of days ago.” Dean couldn’t stop his shoulders from drooping
“Dean, I had to. It was the only way to get you out.”
"What about all the times you didn’t have to? I seem to remember more than one.” Dean knew getting Sam pissed off was not the way to get what he wanted, but goddamn it, Sam could turn anything into a massive epic emotional drama fest.
He watched Sam’s throat work, swallowing. Sam’s voice was filled with hurt and so low Dean almost couldn’t hear it. “I was weak, and I took advantage of you. I’m sorry.”
“Well, I have a choice now, and so do you.” Dean ground down against Sam’s erection with his own.
Sam’s hips jumped, a low moan issuing from his mouth. “Doesn’t exactly look like a ‘no’ to me Sammy.”
“Stop, Dean.” Dean immediately quit moving and rolled off of Sam. Seducing Sam was one thing, but he’d never force him into anything. “I’m not saying I don’t want to. I just don’t trust this.” Sam sounded genuinely concerned, and Dean reacted the only way he knew how, his own worry rising in response to Sam’s.
“What do you mean?”
“I know Gwenoch said she reversed everything, but can we just put this on hold until after we get to Bobby’s? He should be able to help me determine if you’ve been unnaturally influenced or if this is really you. Think about it, Dean. Was this something you ever wanted before?” Sam looked earnest and hopeful. Dean couldn’t deny the sense of what Sam said, despite what his dick might be saying.
“Yeah, okay, we’ve got to head to Bobby’s, anyway.” Dean said, avoiding directly answering Sam’s question. How in the hell do you just come out and say, ‘I’ve lusted after you since you were old enough to know what your dick was for.’
Dean excused himself to the bathroom. There was no way in hell his sixteen-year-old dick was going to be talked down. He turned on the water, although Sam probably knew what he was doing in here anyway. Dean pulled his briefs down below his balls, grabbed his dick and ruthlessly stroked. In his head, he pictured Sam moving over him, eyes covetous, chest streaked with sweat and hair flying. In less than a minute he was coming in the sink.
God, he was so frustrated by his fucking stubborn brother, but he knew how hard it would be to change Sam’s mind. It was hard to answer Sam’s questions about when he started feeling this way about Sam. All he knew for sure was that when he was in fairy and Sam told him they were brothers, it hadn’t brought him any feelings of shame or guilt.
After getting out, that hadn’t changed. He understood that he should feel like it was wrong, but he didn’t. Nothing ever felt more right than when he’d felt Sam inside him, even through the drug and lust haze, it was so fucking right. Did he have these feelings for Sam before? He couldn’t say it never crossed his mind. He'd never loved anyone the way he loved Sam and probably never would again. That naturally led Dean to some sexual thoughts. Dean just tucked those ideas in the same box with his all his other dreams that were never going to happen and didn’t dwell on it.
When he exited the bathroom, he stood between the two beds. He wanted so bad just to feel close to Sam and he knew his brother wasn’t asleep. He could tell from his breathing. Dean took a deep breath and forced it out quickly. “Can I sleep here?” Even in the dark Dean could see Sam’s quick grin as he raised his arm lifting the covers for Dean to slide in. Damn it, when did he turn into a fucking girl. Maybe Sam had a point. Maybe he still was under the influence of fairy. The thought didn’t stop Dean from curving into Sam and sliding a leg between his brother’s. He did manage to hold back the sigh of contentment. No way was he giving Sam any more ammunition.
Part 5