Paint Him Red, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Paint Him Red
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A follow on to of sorts to the "Points" and "Pieces" Verse...comes after "Paint the Sky"...Sam and Dean and talk in the grass...which leads to sex in the grass...and blood...of course...
Warnings/Author's Notes: Just when I thought they were gone...This was the bit they taunted me with yesterday...seems Sam is taking advantage of the fact that I can't get the Tavern bits to wandereringray (evil fucker that he is)....so Evil!Sam, Evil!Dean...incest, m/m sex, bloodletting, death...not nearly as much as other pieces...
The grass is warm in the late afternoon sun. Sam rests comfortably stretched out, his head cradled in the open space between his brother’s thigh and the curve of his hip. The quiet is nice, the warmth leeching off of Dean comforting. Not that Sam needs comforting.
He looks up at Dean, whose eyes are closed, his face turned into the light breeze. He leans back on his arms and looks for all the world like he’s content to simply be here with Sam’s head in his lap. Never mind the things they’ve done in these last weeks…never mind the things they’ll do when they leave here. This is now…and for now, Dean is calm, sedate…he might even say happy…if Sam didn’t know better.
“Dean?”
“Hmmm?”
“It’s very quiet here.”
“Probably because you scared everyone away.” Dean doesn’t open his eyes and there’s no harshness in his tone, only a vague amusement.
“Do you want to go back?”
“What?”
Sam shifts, rolls a little toward Dean, adjusts his head on Dean’s leg. “If you could…would you go back to what we had before?”
Dean’s eyes open and he looks down at Sam, his face passive. “Before what Sam? There’s too many befores.”
“Okay…before Dad died.”
Dean cocks his head to the side and thinks, then shakes his head. “Would it matter? Would you let me die?”
Sam frowns, that hadn’t been what he meant, but Dean’s right…the inexorable slide had begun then…when he’d chosen between his father and his brother…when he’d chosen with his needs rather than what was good and right. “Of course not.”
Dean frowns and goes back to closing his eyes and lifting his chin into the breeze. “It all lead here Sam.”
Sam studies him for a minute. Dean’s honest, open to him. Sam would know if he lied…knows when he hides something, even as small as not liking something Sam gives him. Sam would have nothing else, of course. “I suppose it did.”
“Do you regret it?” Dean asks, his voice still passive, still calm.
Sam doesn’t answer right away, takes a moment to consider. “I may not have handled it as well as I could have.”
“That’s not the same thing, Sam.” Dean’s tone is nearly chastising and it makes Sam smile.
“No, Dean. I don’t regret it. None of it.” He watches the flickers across Dean’s face, because he knows Sam means it…means he doesn’t regret the things he did to Dean…the way he broke him and bled him…then the passive returns because if Sam hadn’t done those things, Dean wouldn’t be here with him now.
Sam lifts one hand, up under Dean’s shirt, pressing against the hot flesh of his abdomen. “Do you?” And he knows that’s the harder question, because Dean does, but doesn’t…because he regrets the actions, if not their meanings…but has no regrets about being here with Sam.
“Sometimes.” Dean offers. It’s the simplest answer.
Sam lifts the shirt higher and presses his lips to Dean’s skin, drawing a tiny groan from him. “And if I let you go?” Sam asks against his stomach, lips brushing as he speaks.
Dean sighs, his hand lifting to finger Sam’s hair. “Where would I go, Sam?”
Sam hears what’s left unsaid too, hears the Love you and I’ve killed for you and above all the rest need you…because Dean is broken…because Sam broke him so delicately that without Sam, Dean can’t think…can’t breathe…his life depends on having Sam there beside him.
Sam flicks his tongue over Dean’s navel and feels him slide further backwards, melting for Sam…He smiles because there is nothing Dean won’t do for him…nothing he can keep from him…and he can feel the lazy arousal, even before the evidence touches the back of his head…
“You’re an easy whore, you know that?”
Dean murmurs his assent and lays back in the grass as Sam moves, pushing his shirt up to lick up his strong chest. “Are you jealous when you see me with them?” Sam asks, though he knows the answer. He can feel the tiny stabs in Dean’s heart each time he takes some pretty thing into his bed.
He’s surprised though when Dean grunts. “Wouldn’t be if you’d fucking share.”
Sam laughs and Dean opens his eyes to look at him. “You asked.”
“You wanted the boy in Charlestown.”
Dean laid back and closed his eyes again. “Fuck yeah. I did.”
“Maybe I should make it up to you.”
“What, by fucking me blind?”
Sam sucked a nipple into his mouth, then bit down on it until Dean squirmed. “You reading my mind now, Dean?”
“Not hard when your cock is poking my thing like it is.” Dean muttered. “Is it even worth mentioning that we’re in public and its daylight?”
“It would be if I cared.”
“How about…never mind.” Sam saw images of children and the playground equipment not far from where he was now straddling his brother, rubbing their hardness together.
He leaned forward and nipped at Dean’s chin. “They’ve all gone home…Dean…It’s just you and me.” He rocked against Dean again just for the sound that came bubbling up out of him. “Tell me.” He closes the mesh of his power around Dean and squeezes until he feels the long exhale, the sharp intake that tells him he’s found Dean’s threshold. “Tell me.”
Dean’s eyes open and lock on him. “Yeah…fuck…do it…”
“Do what Dean?”
He squeezes just a little harder…just a little more and Dean can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “Fuck me Sam…please…want to feel you inside me.”
Sam chuckles and releases him, moves enough that Dean can pull his jeans down and roll over. “On your knees Dean.” Sam whispers, nudging his legs, and moving into place, his own cock out of his jeans and hard…always hard any more. “I’m going to hurt you, Dean.” He runs a hand gently down Dean’s spine in contrast as Dean lowers his head and fists the grass and then Sam stops thinking about Dean other than as the body beneath him, shoving in fast and hard.
He makes bruises with his hands on hips and shoulders, refreshes the ones on the back of his neck…Dean grunts with every thrust….”Please,” punctuating every other grunt. Sam marks lines of blood down his back with his mind, thin, long lines that won’t bleed much, but will hurt for days. “Like this Dean? Is this what you want? Is this what you are?”
“For you Sam…” Dean gasps…his body trembles and Sam knows he’s on the brink.
“That’s right baby…only for me…” He changes the angle of his thrusts into Dean, pushing him harder against the ground and he feels Dean lose control, coming against the grass. He laughs because it means punishment…but not now…later…Now he makes soothing sounds, soft touches and finishes, filling Dean with his come before pulling out and tucking himself in.
Dean takes longer, his body likely sore and Sam smiles watching. When Dean is dressed again, Sam pulls him over to lay his head in his lap, reversing their earlier positions. Sam toys with Dean’s hair before looking up at the swing set…at the blood pooling under it…at the man hanging from it. “I don’t think he’s going to tell us anything more.” Sam says tiredly and Dean sighs.
“No. He doesn’t know where the gun is and you’ve chased the demon away.”
“Pity…all that work gone to waste.”
Dean’s smile is wicked as he looks up at Sam. “Consider it practice…for when we do find the right one.”
Sam kisses his forehead. Yes…Dean may regret some of the things they’ve done…but every day that passes he gives himself more completely to the dark…And yes, one day Dean will betray him…one day Dean may even kill him…Sam sighs and tightens that net around Dean again, unexpectedly, harshly. Dean does little more than gasp for air, his one hand gripping Sam’s jeans.
“Kill him for me, Dean.” Sam let Dean up. “Kill him and we’ll go find some dinner.”
Dean pulls a knife from his boot and walked across the grass almost casually. “Please….Please…I don’t want to die…”
Dean stares up at the man and then glances back at Sam. “Sorry buddy…it isn’t personal. Consider it a favor…I could let him do it.” The man’s eyes raise to Sam’s…Sam who was the one to torture him, even after the demon left him. Dean doesn’t wait for an answer, just slashes the man’s throat and stomach and steps back, cleaning the blood off his blade but not his face…The sun was setting as he turned back to Sam and the red painting Dean’s skin shines, making Sam smile.
Dean holds out his hand to Sam and he nods, rising and moving to put his arms around Dean, licking at the cooling blood on his lips. Love you Sam’s smile is heat and flame, possessive and dismissive all at once. “Of course you do.”
Maybe one day he would have to kill Dean…one day love you will stop keeping Dean from killing him…for now though…Sam wants to paint his whole body blood red and lick him clean again.
Title: Paint Him Red
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A follow on to of sorts to the "Points" and "Pieces" Verse...comes after "Paint the Sky"...Sam and Dean and talk in the grass...which leads to sex in the grass...and blood...of course...
Warnings/Author's Notes: Just when I thought they were gone...This was the bit they taunted me with yesterday...seems Sam is taking advantage of the fact that I can't get the Tavern bits to wandereringray (evil fucker that he is)....so Evil!Sam, Evil!Dean...incest, m/m sex, bloodletting, death...not nearly as much as other pieces...
The grass is warm in the late afternoon sun. Sam rests comfortably stretched out, his head cradled in the open space between his brother’s thigh and the curve of his hip. The quiet is nice, the warmth leeching off of Dean comforting. Not that Sam needs comforting.
He looks up at Dean, whose eyes are closed, his face turned into the light breeze. He leans back on his arms and looks for all the world like he’s content to simply be here with Sam’s head in his lap. Never mind the things they’ve done in these last weeks…never mind the things they’ll do when they leave here. This is now…and for now, Dean is calm, sedate…he might even say happy…if Sam didn’t know better.
“Dean?”
“Hmmm?”
“It’s very quiet here.”
“Probably because you scared everyone away.” Dean doesn’t open his eyes and there’s no harshness in his tone, only a vague amusement.
“Do you want to go back?”
“What?”
Sam shifts, rolls a little toward Dean, adjusts his head on Dean’s leg. “If you could…would you go back to what we had before?”
Dean’s eyes open and he looks down at Sam, his face passive. “Before what Sam? There’s too many befores.”
“Okay…before Dad died.”
Dean cocks his head to the side and thinks, then shakes his head. “Would it matter? Would you let me die?”
Sam frowns, that hadn’t been what he meant, but Dean’s right…the inexorable slide had begun then…when he’d chosen between his father and his brother…when he’d chosen with his needs rather than what was good and right. “Of course not.”
Dean frowns and goes back to closing his eyes and lifting his chin into the breeze. “It all lead here Sam.”
Sam studies him for a minute. Dean’s honest, open to him. Sam would know if he lied…knows when he hides something, even as small as not liking something Sam gives him. Sam would have nothing else, of course. “I suppose it did.”
“Do you regret it?” Dean asks, his voice still passive, still calm.
Sam doesn’t answer right away, takes a moment to consider. “I may not have handled it as well as I could have.”
“That’s not the same thing, Sam.” Dean’s tone is nearly chastising and it makes Sam smile.
“No, Dean. I don’t regret it. None of it.” He watches the flickers across Dean’s face, because he knows Sam means it…means he doesn’t regret the things he did to Dean…the way he broke him and bled him…then the passive returns because if Sam hadn’t done those things, Dean wouldn’t be here with him now.
Sam lifts one hand, up under Dean’s shirt, pressing against the hot flesh of his abdomen. “Do you?” And he knows that’s the harder question, because Dean does, but doesn’t…because he regrets the actions, if not their meanings…but has no regrets about being here with Sam.
“Sometimes.” Dean offers. It’s the simplest answer.
Sam lifts the shirt higher and presses his lips to Dean’s skin, drawing a tiny groan from him. “And if I let you go?” Sam asks against his stomach, lips brushing as he speaks.
Dean sighs, his hand lifting to finger Sam’s hair. “Where would I go, Sam?”
Sam hears what’s left unsaid too, hears the Love you and I’ve killed for you and above all the rest need you…because Dean is broken…because Sam broke him so delicately that without Sam, Dean can’t think…can’t breathe…his life depends on having Sam there beside him.
Sam flicks his tongue over Dean’s navel and feels him slide further backwards, melting for Sam…He smiles because there is nothing Dean won’t do for him…nothing he can keep from him…and he can feel the lazy arousal, even before the evidence touches the back of his head…
“You’re an easy whore, you know that?”
Dean murmurs his assent and lays back in the grass as Sam moves, pushing his shirt up to lick up his strong chest. “Are you jealous when you see me with them?” Sam asks, though he knows the answer. He can feel the tiny stabs in Dean’s heart each time he takes some pretty thing into his bed.
He’s surprised though when Dean grunts. “Wouldn’t be if you’d fucking share.”
Sam laughs and Dean opens his eyes to look at him. “You asked.”
“You wanted the boy in Charlestown.”
Dean laid back and closed his eyes again. “Fuck yeah. I did.”
“Maybe I should make it up to you.”
“What, by fucking me blind?”
Sam sucked a nipple into his mouth, then bit down on it until Dean squirmed. “You reading my mind now, Dean?”
“Not hard when your cock is poking my thing like it is.” Dean muttered. “Is it even worth mentioning that we’re in public and its daylight?”
“It would be if I cared.”
“How about…never mind.” Sam saw images of children and the playground equipment not far from where he was now straddling his brother, rubbing their hardness together.
He leaned forward and nipped at Dean’s chin. “They’ve all gone home…Dean…It’s just you and me.” He rocked against Dean again just for the sound that came bubbling up out of him. “Tell me.” He closes the mesh of his power around Dean and squeezes until he feels the long exhale, the sharp intake that tells him he’s found Dean’s threshold. “Tell me.”
Dean’s eyes open and lock on him. “Yeah…fuck…do it…”
“Do what Dean?”
He squeezes just a little harder…just a little more and Dean can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “Fuck me Sam…please…want to feel you inside me.”
Sam chuckles and releases him, moves enough that Dean can pull his jeans down and roll over. “On your knees Dean.” Sam whispers, nudging his legs, and moving into place, his own cock out of his jeans and hard…always hard any more. “I’m going to hurt you, Dean.” He runs a hand gently down Dean’s spine in contrast as Dean lowers his head and fists the grass and then Sam stops thinking about Dean other than as the body beneath him, shoving in fast and hard.
He makes bruises with his hands on hips and shoulders, refreshes the ones on the back of his neck…Dean grunts with every thrust….”Please,” punctuating every other grunt. Sam marks lines of blood down his back with his mind, thin, long lines that won’t bleed much, but will hurt for days. “Like this Dean? Is this what you want? Is this what you are?”
“For you Sam…” Dean gasps…his body trembles and Sam knows he’s on the brink.
“That’s right baby…only for me…” He changes the angle of his thrusts into Dean, pushing him harder against the ground and he feels Dean lose control, coming against the grass. He laughs because it means punishment…but not now…later…Now he makes soothing sounds, soft touches and finishes, filling Dean with his come before pulling out and tucking himself in.
Dean takes longer, his body likely sore and Sam smiles watching. When Dean is dressed again, Sam pulls him over to lay his head in his lap, reversing their earlier positions. Sam toys with Dean’s hair before looking up at the swing set…at the blood pooling under it…at the man hanging from it. “I don’t think he’s going to tell us anything more.” Sam says tiredly and Dean sighs.
“No. He doesn’t know where the gun is and you’ve chased the demon away.”
“Pity…all that work gone to waste.”
Dean’s smile is wicked as he looks up at Sam. “Consider it practice…for when we do find the right one.”
Sam kisses his forehead. Yes…Dean may regret some of the things they’ve done…but every day that passes he gives himself more completely to the dark…And yes, one day Dean will betray him…one day Dean may even kill him…Sam sighs and tightens that net around Dean again, unexpectedly, harshly. Dean does little more than gasp for air, his one hand gripping Sam’s jeans.
“Kill him for me, Dean.” Sam let Dean up. “Kill him and we’ll go find some dinner.”
Dean pulls a knife from his boot and walked across the grass almost casually. “Please….Please…I don’t want to die…”
Dean stares up at the man and then glances back at Sam. “Sorry buddy…it isn’t personal. Consider it a favor…I could let him do it.” The man’s eyes raise to Sam’s…Sam who was the one to torture him, even after the demon left him. Dean doesn’t wait for an answer, just slashes the man’s throat and stomach and steps back, cleaning the blood off his blade but not his face…The sun was setting as he turned back to Sam and the red painting Dean’s skin shines, making Sam smile.
Dean holds out his hand to Sam and he nods, rising and moving to put his arms around Dean, licking at the cooling blood on his lips. Love you Sam’s smile is heat and flame, possessive and dismissive all at once. “Of course you do.”
Maybe one day he would have to kill Dean…one day love you will stop keeping Dean from killing him…for now though…Sam wants to paint his whole body blood red and lick him clean again.