60 Seconds (d/s, ficlet, third person pov, spoilers for 9x01)
Things in Italics are Recollections.
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Fingers interlacing, warm puffs of air ghosting on his jaw.
Blood: warm and sticky on his fingers. Sam’s blood.
Two heartbeats, in synch, almost creating a melody, a tune.
Mud, cold, bruised knees, white hot blinding pain. His name on his lips. Like his first word. Like the only one that really mattered.
…fingertips scattering goosebumps on naked skin…
Firm, calloused hands setting bones in place
Thighs pressed together, for comfort, warmth, becase it felt natural.
Heat, cold, fire, water, weariness they could feel right down to their bones, and yet, resting was not an option. For warriors did not rest, did not complain. (big boys don’t cry, big boys don’t whine, big boys suck it up and get the job done)
Teeth nipping the tender flesh of Dean’s lower lip, His body arching against his, their blood on fire, the world outside fading into nothingness. The world, their world, in that small room, musty smell and polka dots on the wall.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"What am I supposed to do?"
Synchrony in their words and desperation. Same words, within 365 days, same question, same heartbreak.
Sam…Sammy…mine…save him…can’t let him go. Can’t…
Sam’s profile under the stars, his smile, like fireworks going off inside of Dean, making everything brighter, more real. Darkness, tight, wet, heat. Tasting copper in their mouths, in a darkness so different, so cold and empty, biting down their own tongues not to cry out a name, different than the ones of the women they were with.
Blood, darkness, an emptiness so vast that he had to drown in blood to annhilate it. Because Dean was in hell. Because existing was too hard, and it wasn’t worth it. Because he couldn’t save him, couldn’t bring him back.
The tip of Dean’s tongue tracing a thick scar on Sam’s palm.
"This is real!" Pleading in Dean’s eyes, pain, so much pain…
Hooks, misty razors, never ending darkness, hollow reprieves, just to start over and over. Hell, seeping in them, and a name on their lips, they grasped, to seek reprieve.
An icy cold evil, the bringer of light, breaking Dean’s neck, the serpent crushing the sword, the serpent breaking Dean’s heart, while wearing his brother’s face. The serpent probing and tearing at Sam’s soul.
"Believe me!"
Goosebumps all over Sam, while still tasting Ruby (her blood, she had loved to bleed, Sam should have seen her true face, the satisfied smirk tugging at her broken and chapped lips, how black her heart had been), his heart thundering in his chest and Dean…
Dean: his presence, his soul (so beautiful, so bright, no wonder Cass had fallen from grace for him, fallen for him, raped the balance of good and evil over and over for that man), his presence filling the void and the darkness inside himself.
Arms, skin to skin, shame, lust and love making the blood hum, their skin burn at the touch, muscles trembling, secrets whispered with open mouthed kisses, grunts and hands on each other’s heart.
Promises made, broken, kept, ignored. Words unsaid. And it all boiled down to one truth, "I can’t do this without you"
Ezekiel felt overwhelmed. The two men, the chosen ones, the warriors, the brothers, so ferociously broken and damaged, so in love…with each other.
He felt it, in his grace, as Dean spoke through him, he felt in their hearts and souls. Did they know? Did they realize? "There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you" If they only knew how much that was true. If they could only…care that it was their curse and blessing.
He was as ancient as time, and part of him, the one that was feeling the loss of heaven deep inside, almost envied the two men. Their obsession with each other. Their desperation to save the other.
Their love.