Big Bang 2012: The Iron Tongue of Midnight
Part Thirteen
April 28th 2002
On Sunday Sam awoke with Dean in his arms for the third morning in a row. It was a nice way to wake up; it made him feel safe and loved in a way he hadn’t felt since Jenny died. It was scary too because he knew that Dean would be leaving in a couple of days, and he’d become completely addicted to the guy. The thought of having to sleep by himself in his dorm room again was scary. The thought of Aazim catching up with him and dragging his ass back to San Antonio was even scarier and the thought made Sam hug Dean even tighter.
On Friday, the day after they’d made love-rather than just fucked-for the first time, he’d switched his cell phone back on and listened to his messages. There were none from Brady; Sam figured he was probably too smart to leave threatening messages on Sam’s voicemail; but there were three messages from Jess, reminding him about their group project as well as just checking in on him. He’d called her back immediately and they’d chatted about school and assignments for over half an hour, only briefly touching on the dramas that he was having with Brady and how things were going for him with ‘his ex’. When Sam had fired up his lap top to get stuck into his homework, Dean had pouted and then gone out of his way to be as irritating and distracting as possible.
“Okay, you know what?” Sam said finally, “I’m giving you homework.”
Dean raised an eyebrow.
“Is it gonna involve butt plugs again? Cuz that was kinda fun.”
Sam gave him a look of exasperation. “Bobby said the only way to get rid of demons was to exorcise ‘em, right?”
Dean glared at the huge pile of occult and esoteric books sitting on the floor and the table. “Oh come on! You’re not gonna make me find an exorcism ritual are you?”
“No Dean,” Sam smiled sweetly, “I’m gonna make you find and memorize an exorcism ritual.”
Dean bristled. “Yeah? You and who’s army, Sammy?”
“You think the demons are just gonna stand and wait politely while you get your books out and look for an exorcism ritual?”
“Yes! They’re gonna be in a frigging Devil’s trap. You know what trap means College Boy? It means they’ll be caught; stuck. So yeah, I think they’ll just have to stand there and wait while I get the book out, read the exorcism, and send their asses back to Hell!”
“What about if there’s a fight first and you get injured before you can trap the demon? Wouldn’t it be better to know how to exorcise it without having to find a book and look it up?”
Dean started fidgeting in his chair and tapping his pen against the table again.
“If you want to make it fun,” Sam said, lowering his voice and adopting a slightly teasing tone, “you could always wear a butt plug while you do it.”
Dean’s dick gave a traitorous little twitch.
“You like that idea, huh?” Sam’s voice became even deeper and huskier. “Like the thought of me making you take that big, black plug; then making you sit on that hard plastic chair, feeling that plug deep inside you. Maybe I’ll even tie you to the chair, make you sit there like that ‘til you’ve done your homework.”
Dean’s dick went from twitching to rock hard in an instant.
“What the hell, Sam?” he grumbled, “how ‘m I supposed to concentrate now?”
Sam smirked. “I have to spend about four hours doing homework. If you can find an exorcism and memorize it in that time, I’ll give you a reward.”
“Yeah? What ?”
“A blowjob?”
Dean pouted. “We were probably gonna do that later anyway.”
“Okay. Choose a different reward then.”
“Nah,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “A blowjob’s fine.”
As Sam remembered Dean’s efforts to memorize the exorcism, he snuggled against Dean’s back and smirked to himself. They’d had to stop for lunch, of course, and Dean…well, Dean was Dean. Even when he was trying he wasn’t good at sitting still and focusing, so it had ended up being past five o’clock by the time they’d finished their respective work. Sam had emailed his contribution to the Psych group project to Jess and then taken the exorcism rite away from Dean.
“Okay. Let’s hear it.”
Dean came close; Sam had to give him that. The only mistake he’d made was right at the end when he’d said ‘Adios, Hell-spawn’ when he should’ve said audi nos. He’d then argued with Sam that adios made more sense than audi nos because it meant good-bye, and Sam honestly wasn’t sure if he was only arguing because he wanted to make sure he collected on his blowjob or if he genuinely believed it didn’t matter. They’d ended up getting into a real fight about it, which was completely stupid, and would’ve probably ruined Sam’s entire weekend if Dean hadn’t done an abrupt about face, agreed that Sam was right and apologized. The make-up sex had been fantastic and Sam squirmed against Dean as he remembered.
Yesterday they’d gone down to San Jose and spent the day pool hustling again. Afterwards, their wallets fat with twenties and fifties, Dean had driven them out towards the Baylands Nature Preserve. He’d parked the car in a secluded spot off the main road and dragged a cooler full of beer out of the trunk. They’d sat for several hours on the hood of the Impala; drinking, shooting the breeze and looking up at the stars. It had been nearly midnight by the time they’d headed back to the hotel but that hadn’t stopped them from having hot, sweaty sex, before falling into an exhausted sleep.
“Hey, Sam?” Dean’s sleep-rough voice brought Sam back to the present again. “Is that a cell phone in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”
Sam rubbed his hard length against Dean’s crack and Dean groaned and pushed back against him.
“Freakin’ spider-monkey,” he gasped, “been all over me, all night, drivin’ me freakin’ crazy.”
“You love it,” Sam said and then reached over and shoved his hand down the front of Dean’s briefs. He jacked Dean slowly while rubbing himself against the hunter’s ass and brought them both off at a relaxed, leisurely pace.
Later, after they’d showered, dressed and eaten, Sam handed Dean the occult manuscript he’d ‘borrowed’ from the Stanford Library, open at the page that dealt with the Great Rite.
Dean’s face closed off immediately. He threw the book down onto the table as though it had burned him and stood up.
“Dean-” Sam began, but the hunter cut him off.
“Denial, Sammy,” he said, “It ain’t just a river in Egypt.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “We’ve got two days,” he said firmly, “and this is a job, just like any other job. If you had to learn how to…God…I dunno…decapitate a troll who lived under a bridge, you’d be on it like the professional hunter you are. This is no different. Now learn the damn summoning ritual, soldier.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed and then he faked a little shudder. “Ooh , Sammy,” he said, “I get all tingly when you take control like that.”
“I know,” Sam said, getting to his feet and invading the hunter’s space. “And if you’re a good boy and learn your summoning ritual, we’re gonna have a lot of fun with that.”
Dean closed his eyes and shuddered again, only this time there was nothing fake about it.
“Sit,” Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and gently pushed him back down into his chair. He spun the book around to face Dean and jabbed a finger at it. “Learn.”
Dean sat looking blankly at the book and only turned around when a loud scraping noise attracted his attention. Sam had moved the nightstands and was shoving their bed sideways against the back wall.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked.
“Clearing floor space. You reading that Dean or just hoping it’ll soak in through your pores?”
Dean’s eyes became blank pools again. He sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and rubbed a hand across his neck before looking up and meeting Sam’s eyes.
“I don’t wanna do this,” he said bleakly, and Sam knew he didn’t mean the reading.
“I know,” Sam agreed softly.
Dean ducked his head and stared hard at the book. “I hate not having a choice,” he said bitterly.
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”
Dean rubbed a hand across his forehead. “It’s just…sex…it’s something real private. It’s not something people should be buying or selling or forcing on other people. Don’t get me wrong, Sam, I don’t blame you for being a hooker, you were forced into it. I get that. But…sex…it should be…something…beautiful…that people share. Being forced isn’t beautiful.”
“You’re right, it’s not,” Sam paused for a moment. “Did you know that in ancient times, prostitution was considered a sacred profession?”
Dean shook his head. “No, I didn’t know that.”
Sam nodded. “It’s true. Being a hooker was seen as holy because the hookers were providing a sacred service of the Goddess to their society. They were respected. Now though, we think that sex is something dirty so hookers get treated like something dirty. And something that should be positive and beautiful ends up being seen as negative and ugly.”
Dean nodded. “Which explains why Gwyn Ap Nudd said a hooker wasn’t acceptable for this rite,” he frowned. “Although I don’t see why he’d care about that when he’s perverting the damn thing anyway.”
Sam shrugged. “I guess he just really wanted your bright, shiny soul.” he hesitated a moment. “When you first picked me up and told me about Gwyn Ap Nudd, you said that he wasn’t a monster; that he’d make it good for me,” Sam paused, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “When you’re a hooker, getting hurt’s just a hazard of the job. So knowing a job’s safe, that’s never a bad thing. Sometimes, though, you really don’t want the sex. And getting off on something you don’t want is a total mind fuck. It’s like they get more than you were willing to give; something that wasn’t meant for them. So I get why you’re freaked, I really do. But you’re gonna be okay, Dean. You’re not gonna get hurt, you’re gonna get your Dad back and you’re gonna stop the Faeries from doing this to anyone else. You’ll get through this and you’ll be fine.”
Dean choked out a laugh. “And if I’m not? If I go mad like all the others did?”
Sam tilted his head and looked at Dean thoughtfully. “You already know that monsters are real. You’ve fought black dogs and werewolves and God knows what else. You’re not gonna see anything worse than you’ve already seen, so I can’t see you getting scared into insanity. But if you’re not okay…you’ve got me. I’ve got your back, man. I promise.”
Dean looked steadily at Sam for a moment and then his eyes slid across to the bed. “So what’s the deal with the whole ‘trading spaces’ thing?”
“Gonna set up a ritual space so that we can practice the whole rite. I figured the more familiar it felt, the easier it’d be for you when…you know…”
Dean turned back to the book without a word and Sam waited a moment to see if he was going to say anything else and when he didn’t, he got on with setting up. First he cleansed and consecrated the space, and then he drew a pentacle on the carpet with chalk and placed candles at various points around it, before gathering everything that he would need to cast a circle and placing it within easy reach. Finally, he grabbed the pillows and the quilt off the bed and dumped them, along with the lube and a condom, in the center of the pentacle.
“How you doing?” he asked Dean.
Dean shrugged. “I got the summoning down. It’s not actually all that long. And it’s in English.”
“You ready to do this?”
“Sure.”
“Wow. Your enthusiasm is completely underwhelming.”
Dean smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile; in fact it looked kind of dangerous and Sam wondered briefly how many supernatural creatures had seen that smile right before they died.
“You seriously expect me to be enthusiastic about rehearsing my own rape?” Dean spat.
Sam was by Dean’s side in two quick strides. He pulled the chair Dean was sitting in around to face him and then sank to his knees at Dean’s feet, his arms resting on Dean’s thighs.
“That’s not what this is about,” he said. “This is a beautiful ritual. I’ve been reading up on it and-I’ve had a lot of sex Dean, but you…you’re something else. No-one has ever made me feel the way you do. You’re erotic and sensual without even trying and the respect and reverence you have for sex…it’s obvious in every touch. You deserve this ritual the way it’s meant to be. Don’t get me wrong; we’re not actually gonna channel the God and the Goddess, we don’t have all the necessary ingredients to do the rite properly, but-” Sam waved a hand effusively, “I like the way this religion sees sex as something sacred. The Goddess says: ‘All acts of love and pleasure are my rituals’ so you can bet your ass she’s gonna be pissed when she realizes that Gwyn Ap Nudd’s been subverting her rituals.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “I am betting my ass,” he muttered.
Sam’s face fell. “I know,” he said. “The thing is you’re actually perfect for this ritual. No wait,” he held a hand up when Dean’s face hardened. “I don’t mean for Gwyn Ap Nudd’s perverted version, I mean for the proper ritual; the one where both parties choose willingly to be involved; where they share their sexual energy and channel it in prayer. That’s what I want us to do now. That’s what I want you to experience before…” Sam trailed off uncertainly. “Please, Dean. Please let me do this for you. It’ll be good, I promise.”
Dean took Sam’s hands in his own and stood up, bringing Sam with him.
“Okay,” he said. “Sounds like you’re planning to blow my mind…among other things…and I ain’t ever been one to turn down good sex. What do you want me to do?”
Sam licked his lips. “Maybe you could get naked and then sort out the pillows and shit. Maybe you could start lighting all the candles too.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna cast a circle.”
Dean stared at Sam for a moment and then smirked. “Sure thing Samantha, you go wiggle your nose or point your magic bone or whatever.”
Sam stuck his middle finger up. “How about I give you the magic finger instead?”
Dean’s eyes darkened abruptly and he sidled up to Sam and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him close. “You can give me your magic finger any time you like,” he quipped. He slid a hand down to Sam’s groin and cupped him through his jeans. “Your magic bone too.”
Sam groaned and pulled Dean’s over-shirt off, then lifted the hem of the hunter’s tee-shirt and tore it up over his head.
“Strip,” he demanded, and began pulling off his own clothes.
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have a magic circle to cast?”
“I can do it naked,” Sam said. “C’mon, Dean. Need to see you.”
Dean shucked his pants, briefs and socks and then went and lit the candles before collapsing on top of the quilt and the pillows. To be honest, the circle casting thing was kind of ridiculous, but any opportunity to watch Sam walk around naked wasn’t something to be missed, so Dean just lay back and enjoyed the view. Finally, Sam made his way over to Dean and dropped the book of invocations on the floor beside him. Dean parted his legs and let Sam settle down in between them.
“Invoke the Goddess,” Sam whispered
Dean rolled his eyes.
“I call upon the Mother of all Creation,” he intoned.
“Goddess Hecate, Goddess of fertility and fullness.
Wise one, filled with Luna's secrets
Whose torches light the darkened sky
Come into me now; fill Me with Your Presence
As I attend this Sacred Rite.”
Sam grinned at him and then looked down at the book on the floor.
“In Her name do I invoke thee,” he recited
“Mighty Father of us all Lugh, Pan, Balin, Herne, Cernunnos
Come in answer to my call!
Descend, I pray thee, into thy servant.”
“You feel any different?” Dean asked.
Sam shook his head. “You?”
“Nah.”
“Well, like I said, we’re not doing this for real, it’s just symbolic.”
He gazed down at Dean, naked below him and then glanced at the book before beginning to recite again.
“By seed and root and stem and bud and leaf and flower and fruit we do invoke Thee.”
He then leaned down and kissed Dean’s feet. “Blessed are your feet, which have brought you in these ways,” then he kissed his knees, “blessed are your knees that shall kneel at Her sacred altar,” he moved his lips to Dean’s shaft, “blessed is your-” Dean burst out laughing. “Sorry, Sammy,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “it’s just…I always knew I had a sacred cock, but hearing you say it out loud is just…it’s hilarious, man!” Sam grinned and sucked Dean into his mouth.
“Fuck! That wasn’t in the ritual!” Dean gasped, as Sam worked his hot, wet mouth up and down Dean’s hard length. Sam pulled off him and smirked. “All acts of pleasures are the Goddess’s rites, Dean.” He licked and kissed his way up Dean’s body, nuzzling at his lower stomach with his tongue and then inching his way up to his nipples and working them into desperate, aching peaks before moving up to his mouth. “Blessed are your lips,” he murmured, “which shall speak the sacred Names.”
Dean wriggled against him, his hard-on pressing into Sam’s belly, as Sam licked his way into Dean’s mouth, thrusting his tongue against Dean’s and then pulling back and sucking on his bottom lip. Dean whimpered and shoved his hips upward, his dick desperate for more friction. Sam pulled away from his lips. “Uh, uh,” he said, “we have to come together, and we’re gonna be taking our time, making sure we build the tension and the energy up slowly. So stop trying to hurry things along and just relax.”
Dean sighed but did as he was told.
Sam gave him a quick kiss and then sat back on his haunches.
“Spread your legs wider,” he said, “and put your arms out as if you were gonna do jumping jacks.”
Dean frowned. “What? Why?”
“It’s part of the ritual. You’re channeling the goddess, so basically, you’re the altar; we need you spread out like a pentagram, within a pentacle.”
Dean shivered, ever so slightly, at the thought of being laid out in such an exposed, vulnerable position. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. And don’t pretend you’re not totally getting off on the idea of being spread out below me like a buffet,” Sam waited for Dean to assume the position and when he didn’t move, he nudged his inner thigh gently. “C’mon. Spread’em.”
Dean’s eye darkened and he bit his bottom lip before complying with a groan.
“You know, in some traditions,” Sam said casually, “you’d be tied down for this.”
Dean’s traitorous dick throbbed and jerked at the delicious image Sam had just created and Dean bit his lip again and concentrated on remembering the babysitter he’d had when he was eight. Mrs Ellison had been ninety if she was a day, with wrinkled liver-spotted skin, and a horrible smell; some weird combination of mothballs, cat pee and decay. When Dean had himself back under control again he looked up and met Sam’s smoldering eyes. Sam leaned down and went to work. He sucked a bruise into the tender flesh above Dean’s hip and then gently licked the sting away before moving to his other hip and repeating the treatment. He worried at Dean’s belly button for an eternity before sucking a nipple into his mouth, biting gently and then sucking at it, swiping his tongue against the aching, swollen bud and then biting at it again until Dean was arching his back and begging, but whether he wanted Sam to stop or go harder wasn’t clear. Sam moved to the other nipple and gave it the same treatment until Dean was a writhing, gibbering mess.
Sometime while Sam had been sweetly tormenting Dean’s nipples he’d managed to slick his fingers with lube and as he moved down to suckle at Dean’s cock he began to stroke Dean’s puckered entrance.
“Fuck!” Dean arched off the floor.
Sam worked his middle finger deep inside, sliding it in and out until Dean’s hole was stretched and slicked, and then he added a second finger, simultaneously sucking Dean’s cock down to the root.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean chanted. “Oh God…Mrs Ellison…Mrs Ellison…swear to God she was a freakin’ revenant. Ungh! Goddamn it Sam! If you don’t fucking fuck me I swear I’m gonna…fuck!”
Sam pulled his fingers out and grinned wickedly. He reached for the condom he’d left lying on the quilt and opened it slowly before rolling the sheath onto his red, straining cock. Dean stared up at him with glazed eyes and a lust-blown expression and when Sam put the hunter’s legs over his shoulders, Dean didn’t so much as twitch, staying still and compliant while Sam manhandled him into position. When Sam finally sank into him, they both groaned.
“So tight, Dean,” Sam breathed, pulling his hips back and then thrusting in deep again. “Feel so good around me.” He changed his angle on the next thrust and hit Dean’s sweet spot just right. Dean bucked underneath him and fisted the quilt in his hands, gasping and groaning and generally running his mouth as his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Not yet, not yet,” Sam cautioned, “think about why we’re raising this energy; what we want to achieve.”
“Huh?” Dean gasped.
“It’s like a prayer, remember,” Sam said, “or making a wish. You send all the energy towards your goal. We’re gonna pray that everything goes right on May Day. When you come, that’s what you ask for, right?’
“Ngh,” Dean said.
Sam rolled his hips and increased his pace, plunging harder and deeper and nudging Dean’s prostate with every thrust.
“I’m nearly there,” Sam panted and Dean grabbed ahold of his cock and started to fist it in earnest. “Nearly…Oh God, Dean…come with me…now!”
Dean felt Sam pulsing inside him and it pushed him over the edge. He threw his head back and cried out as he came, only just remembering to pray to the goddess that May Day would be successful.
They lay together in a fog of bliss until Sam gathered his wits together enough to pull out and roll the condom off. He cleaned them both carefully and then snuffed out all the candles before taking down the circle and moving the quilt, the pillows and a sleepy, fucked-out Dean back up onto the bed. Sam lay behind Dean with a sigh and indulged in some heavy duty cuddling, knowing that Dean was too out of it to protest. He hoped with all his heart that what they’d just done would help Dean to get through May Day; that it would give him something positive to remember and hang on to when the time came and he had to do the ritual for real. Denial seemed to be Dean’s tried and true method for dealing with the things he didn’t want to face, but he was going to have to face this, and soon. Time was running out and in less than forty-eight hours, Dean would be back in the Faerie Realm, being forced to submit to the Faerie king as he took what he wanted with no concern for Dean’s desires. Sam hugged Dean fiercely and wished, not for the first time, that he could do something to protect Dean from having to make that sacrifice.
-X-
April 30th 2002
Sam had decided that he wasn’t going back to school until he’d sorted things out with Aazim and Dean promised to help him do just that; as soon as May Day was over and he had his Dad back. Not having Sam’s classes to worry about meant they stayed up late at night and then slept in the next day. As a hunter, Dean was very much a nocturnal creature, and Sam was still more comfortable with the hours he’d had to keep as a hustler than he was with those of a college student, so it wasn’t unusual for them to sleep until midday. Today, though, Sam had woken up at ten to find the motel room empty. All Dean’s stuff was still in the room, so it wasn’t like he’d decided to pack up and run, but Sam was still disconcerted; Aazim’s goons were still lurking about town and Sam didn’t like the idea that Dean had gone out without someone to watch his back.
When Dean finally strolled through the door carrying two paper bags that smelled strongly of bacon and egg muffins, and coffee for two, Sam wasn’t sure whether to hug him or punch him.
“You couldn’t’ve left a note?” he grouched.
“Sorry,” Dean said breezily.
“You know Aazim’s probably having the diner watched, right?”
“Oh he is,” Dean agreed, “But don’t worry, I lost ‘em. You’re still safe here.”
Sam ground his teeth in frustration. “I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about you. I know you’re a good fighter Dean, but so do they after last time, and you’re not bullet proof.”
“Don’t have to be when you’re a ninja,” Dean quipped.
Sam glowered and snatched the coffee and a brown paper bag off him. “More like a kamikaze,” he grumbled. “Don’t think I can’t see right through you.”
Dean just rolled his eyes and ignored him.
Once they were both ready, Dean insisted on going out pool hustling again. They went all the way to San Francisco this time and made more money in the one afternoon than they had on all their previous outings put together, despite the fact that Dean seemed hell bent on getting them into trouble. When he wasn’t picking fights he was being an outrageous cock tease, and he was knocking back double shots of whiskey at an unhealthy rate. By the time they went into their last bar for the afternoon Dean was tipsy and obviously spoiling for a brawl. Sam sat in a dark corner out of the way and watched Dean hustle a big bear of a guy in leather pants and a tight black tee-shirt. Everything about the guy screamed dominant and Sam had a feeling that whatever trouble Dean had been looking for all day, he might finally have found it. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he watched the competent way Leather-pants was manipulating Dean, playing him like a finely-tuned violin. He had a nasty suspicion that Leather-pants was going to be trouble of a sort that Dean really wasn’t equipped to handle and things were probably going to go south quickly. With a sigh he eased out of the bar. He went and sat by the Impala for a good fifteen minutes, psyching himself into the right headspace to out-dominate the dominant male; it helped that he was genuinely pissed off by how reckless Dean had been all day. Finally, he drew himself up, squared his shoulders and strode into the bar as if he owned the place.
Dean and Leather-pants had vanished.
Sam checked the restroom.
Nothing.
He went out the rear exit into the back alley and for one brief moment, he froze, adrenalin roaring through his veins and his heart just about ready to explode at the sight that greeted him. Leather-pants had Dean bent over the hood of a car, his face smashed against the metal, his hands pinned behind his back and his pants around his knees. The only thing Sam could hear past the blood pounding in his temple and the whooshing sound in his ears was Dean’s panicked voice saying no, no, no over and over again and the only thing that stopped him from physically attacking Leather-pants immediately was the fact that he hadn’t touched Dean intimately yet.
“Get your hands off him,” Sam roared. “He’s mine!”
Leather-pants spun to face him and the possessive expression on his face faded when he saw the look of abject fury on Sam’s.
“Don’t see your collar on him,” he said reasonably.
Sam closed the distance between them, yanked Dean upright and tore his tee-shirt off him.
“He doesn’t need a collar,” he said, “not when he’s got my marks all over him.”
Leather-pants looked at all the hickeys on Dean’s torso and neck and backed off, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“Easy mistake to make,” he said. “Your boy’s one helluva cocktease. You should keep him on a shorter leash.”
“Yeah,” Sam glowered at Dean. “Just wait ‘til I get you home,” he threatened. He thrust Dean’s tee-shirt into his hands. “Get dressed. And think yourself lucky I don’t bend you back over the hood and take my belt to you right here.”
The show of dominance was for Leather-pants’s benefit. Mostly. Sam was still plenty pissed at Dean for putting himself in danger and the yelling was a good outlet. Sam might even have enjoyed it if he hadn’t been able to see the way Dean was trembling.
“Keys!” Sam barked, as the door closed on Leather-pants’s back.
Dean put the car keys in Sam’s outstretched hand without a word.
“Let’s go,” Sam turned on his heel, not even bothering to check if Dean was following him. When they reached the car, Sam grabbed a fistful of Dean’s tee-shirt and slammed him against the car. “Are you insane?” he snarled. “You nearly got raped!” He let go of Dean without waiting for a reply and slid behind the Impala’s wheel. “Get in the car,” he growled and Dean didn’t argue, just climbed meekly into the passenger seat.
Sam was so blinded by rage that he drove for nearly fifteen minutes before he even saw the road. When he finally calmed down enough to be aware of his surroundings he realized that Dean was huddled against the door, watching him warily.
“You okay?” Sam asked him.
Dean nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to…” he trailed off uncertainly.
“You were just trying to provoke him into hurting you. You’ve been doing it all day.”
“What? No. I just figured if I flirted with him a little I might be able to hustle a few extra dollars out of him, that’s all.”
Sam shook his head. “You're lying. And you may as well drop it, cuz I can see right through you. I know you’re scared about tomorrow, but don’t do this to yourself.”
Dean snorted scornfully. “Yeah, right. I can do whatever I want, Sam. I don't need you to sign me a permission slip.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch-line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid. It’s okay to be scared. It’s not okay to go out and get yourself beaten up or raped.”
A charged silence permeated the car, building in the air until it became uncomfortable, and then Dean sighed.
“What does it even matter,” he muttered, “I’m gonna get raped tomorrow anyway.”
Sam spun the steering wheel abruptly and swung the car off the freeway and onto the hard shoulder.
“What the hell, man?” Dean spluttered. He met Sam’s eyes and whatever protest he was about to make died when he saw the raw hurt on Sam’s face.
“You think that only your first rape counts?” Sam’s voice was quiet but intense, “That the second time and the third time and the fourth time you get raped it doesn’t hurt? Doesn’t tear your soul apart? That it’s okay to rape somebody twenty, thirty, forty times because once they’ve been raped once it doesn’t matter anymore? Is that what you think, Dean?”
Dean shook his head, his bottom lip trembling as he fought to hang onto his composure. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You’re right. I’m an idiot.” He put his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes, colors sparking behind his eyeballs. “I don’t wanna get raped,” he said brokenly, “but I can’t get out of this ritual, can’t stop it happening and…” the tears that had been pooling in his eyes began to run down his cheeks and he wiped at them ineffectually, “I am so fucking terrified, Sammy.”
Almost immediately Sam scooped him up into a tight hug, kissing him and petting his hair, and even though a part of Dean rebelled at such chick-flick behavior, he decided to let himself have the comfort, just this once. When he realized that Sam’s cheeks were as wet as his own he frowned. “Sam? Why are you crying?”
Sam smiled sadly. “Because I don’t want you to have to do this, but I can’t get you out of it, can’t stop it happening. And I’m terrified that I’m gonna lose you.”
“Oh,” Dean was quiet for a moment and then he pushed Sam away as he tried to rein in his emotions.
“I’m uh, sorry about before. With Marcus.”
“Marcus?”
“The guy behind the bar. I didn’t mean to let it get that far.”
Sam nodded. “I know. Don’t do it again.”
Dean grimaced. “I won’t,” he squirmed uncomfortably and then glanced up at Sam. “So before, you know, with all the yelling and the threatening…that was just for show, right?”
“Mostly,” Sam admitted.
“Mostly,” Dean echoed. “But, uh, you’re not actually planning to take me home and, uh,” his eyes flashed down to Sam’s belt and a faint blush began to creep up his neck.
“Do you want me to?” Sam asked neutrally.
Dean shook his head.
“Then I won’t. But,” Sam added, and he rather enjoyed the way Dean’s eyes flashed in alarm. “We might have to go home and have a lot of sex.” A sour look crossed Sam’s face. “That guy’s hands were all over you. I didn’t like it,” he paused. “Are you on board with that idea?”
“Sounds good,” Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, another thing I was wondering. Do you actually have a drivers license Sam?”
Sam’s eyes widened like a puppy’s. “Not as such, no.”
Dean nodded. “Maybe I better drive us home then?”
For a little while, Dean stayed grounded, but as the evening wore on he got more and more jittery. It didn’t help that they didn’t know exactly when they Faeries would come for him. Sam wouldn’t let him have any more to drink but when Dean practically started climbing the walls a little before midnight, Sam agreed that they could go out for some pie. He almost hoped they’d run into Aazim, just to take Dean’s mind off things and give him an enemy he could actually fight.
As they cut through a back alley on their way to the diner the air in front of them suddenly shimmered, stopping them abruptly.
“No way!” Sam snarled as a squadron of Faerie guards appeared before them. He turned to Dean, expecting the hunter to fight or protest or something, but Dean just stood there, his eyes resigned and his shoulders slumped.
“It is time,” one of the Faeries said.
Dean just nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“Here,” he said, “that’s everything we made hustling today. Take it. And here’s the key to the room. Would you…would you wait for me?”
“Of course,” Sam threw his arms around the hunter and squeezed him hard. “You’re gonna be okay,” he reassured him, before pulling away. “Good luck.”
Dean nodded and then stepped forward, his arms spread wide.
“Okay,” he said, “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
The air shimmered again and Dean and the Faeries disappeared.
Sam stood for a moment in shock and then he got his cell phone out and checked the time; it was 12.01. The Faeries had come for Dean at exactly midnight. And all Sam could think of, as he stared at the place where Dean had disappeared, was a line from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a play that the tutors at Youth Outreach had made him study: ‘The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.’
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April 28th 2002
On Sunday Sam awoke with Dean in his arms for the third morning in a row. It was a nice way to wake up; it made him feel safe and loved in a way he hadn’t felt since Jenny died. It was scary too because he knew that Dean would be leaving in a couple of days, and he’d become completely addicted to the guy. The thought of having to sleep by himself in his dorm room again was scary. The thought of Aazim catching up with him and dragging his ass back to San Antonio was even scarier and the thought made Sam hug Dean even tighter.
On Friday, the day after they’d made love-rather than just fucked-for the first time, he’d switched his cell phone back on and listened to his messages. There were none from Brady; Sam figured he was probably too smart to leave threatening messages on Sam’s voicemail; but there were three messages from Jess, reminding him about their group project as well as just checking in on him. He’d called her back immediately and they’d chatted about school and assignments for over half an hour, only briefly touching on the dramas that he was having with Brady and how things were going for him with ‘his ex’. When Sam had fired up his lap top to get stuck into his homework, Dean had pouted and then gone out of his way to be as irritating and distracting as possible.
“Okay, you know what?” Sam said finally, “I’m giving you homework.”
Dean raised an eyebrow.
“Is it gonna involve butt plugs again? Cuz that was kinda fun.”
Sam gave him a look of exasperation. “Bobby said the only way to get rid of demons was to exorcise ‘em, right?”
Dean glared at the huge pile of occult and esoteric books sitting on the floor and the table. “Oh come on! You’re not gonna make me find an exorcism ritual are you?”
“No Dean,” Sam smiled sweetly, “I’m gonna make you find and memorize an exorcism ritual.”
Dean bristled. “Yeah? You and who’s army, Sammy?”
“You think the demons are just gonna stand and wait politely while you get your books out and look for an exorcism ritual?”
“Yes! They’re gonna be in a frigging Devil’s trap. You know what trap means College Boy? It means they’ll be caught; stuck. So yeah, I think they’ll just have to stand there and wait while I get the book out, read the exorcism, and send their asses back to Hell!”
“What about if there’s a fight first and you get injured before you can trap the demon? Wouldn’t it be better to know how to exorcise it without having to find a book and look it up?”
Dean started fidgeting in his chair and tapping his pen against the table again.
“If you want to make it fun,” Sam said, lowering his voice and adopting a slightly teasing tone, “you could always wear a butt plug while you do it.”
Dean’s dick gave a traitorous little twitch.
“You like that idea, huh?” Sam’s voice became even deeper and huskier. “Like the thought of me making you take that big, black plug; then making you sit on that hard plastic chair, feeling that plug deep inside you. Maybe I’ll even tie you to the chair, make you sit there like that ‘til you’ve done your homework.”
Dean’s dick went from twitching to rock hard in an instant.
“What the hell, Sam?” he grumbled, “how ‘m I supposed to concentrate now?”
Sam smirked. “I have to spend about four hours doing homework. If you can find an exorcism and memorize it in that time, I’ll give you a reward.”
“Yeah? What ?”
“A blowjob?”
Dean pouted. “We were probably gonna do that later anyway.”
“Okay. Choose a different reward then.”
“Nah,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “A blowjob’s fine.”
As Sam remembered Dean’s efforts to memorize the exorcism, he snuggled against Dean’s back and smirked to himself. They’d had to stop for lunch, of course, and Dean…well, Dean was Dean. Even when he was trying he wasn’t good at sitting still and focusing, so it had ended up being past five o’clock by the time they’d finished their respective work. Sam had emailed his contribution to the Psych group project to Jess and then taken the exorcism rite away from Dean.
“Okay. Let’s hear it.”
Dean came close; Sam had to give him that. The only mistake he’d made was right at the end when he’d said ‘Adios, Hell-spawn’ when he should’ve said audi nos. He’d then argued with Sam that adios made more sense than audi nos because it meant good-bye, and Sam honestly wasn’t sure if he was only arguing because he wanted to make sure he collected on his blowjob or if he genuinely believed it didn’t matter. They’d ended up getting into a real fight about it, which was completely stupid, and would’ve probably ruined Sam’s entire weekend if Dean hadn’t done an abrupt about face, agreed that Sam was right and apologized. The make-up sex had been fantastic and Sam squirmed against Dean as he remembered.
Yesterday they’d gone down to San Jose and spent the day pool hustling again. Afterwards, their wallets fat with twenties and fifties, Dean had driven them out towards the Baylands Nature Preserve. He’d parked the car in a secluded spot off the main road and dragged a cooler full of beer out of the trunk. They’d sat for several hours on the hood of the Impala; drinking, shooting the breeze and looking up at the stars. It had been nearly midnight by the time they’d headed back to the hotel but that hadn’t stopped them from having hot, sweaty sex, before falling into an exhausted sleep.
“Hey, Sam?” Dean’s sleep-rough voice brought Sam back to the present again. “Is that a cell phone in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”
Sam rubbed his hard length against Dean’s crack and Dean groaned and pushed back against him.
“Freakin’ spider-monkey,” he gasped, “been all over me, all night, drivin’ me freakin’ crazy.”
“You love it,” Sam said and then reached over and shoved his hand down the front of Dean’s briefs. He jacked Dean slowly while rubbing himself against the hunter’s ass and brought them both off at a relaxed, leisurely pace.
Later, after they’d showered, dressed and eaten, Sam handed Dean the occult manuscript he’d ‘borrowed’ from the Stanford Library, open at the page that dealt with the Great Rite.
Dean’s face closed off immediately. He threw the book down onto the table as though it had burned him and stood up.
“Dean-” Sam began, but the hunter cut him off.
“Denial, Sammy,” he said, “It ain’t just a river in Egypt.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “We’ve got two days,” he said firmly, “and this is a job, just like any other job. If you had to learn how to…God…I dunno…decapitate a troll who lived under a bridge, you’d be on it like the professional hunter you are. This is no different. Now learn the damn summoning ritual, soldier.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed and then he faked a little shudder. “Ooh , Sammy,” he said, “I get all tingly when you take control like that.”
“I know,” Sam said, getting to his feet and invading the hunter’s space. “And if you’re a good boy and learn your summoning ritual, we’re gonna have a lot of fun with that.”
Dean closed his eyes and shuddered again, only this time there was nothing fake about it.
“Sit,” Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and gently pushed him back down into his chair. He spun the book around to face Dean and jabbed a finger at it. “Learn.”
Dean sat looking blankly at the book and only turned around when a loud scraping noise attracted his attention. Sam had moved the nightstands and was shoving their bed sideways against the back wall.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked.
“Clearing floor space. You reading that Dean or just hoping it’ll soak in through your pores?”
Dean’s eyes became blank pools again. He sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and rubbed a hand across his neck before looking up and meeting Sam’s eyes.
“I don’t wanna do this,” he said bleakly, and Sam knew he didn’t mean the reading.
“I know,” Sam agreed softly.
Dean ducked his head and stared hard at the book. “I hate not having a choice,” he said bitterly.
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”
Dean rubbed a hand across his forehead. “It’s just…sex…it’s something real private. It’s not something people should be buying or selling or forcing on other people. Don’t get me wrong, Sam, I don’t blame you for being a hooker, you were forced into it. I get that. But…sex…it should be…something…beautiful…that people share. Being forced isn’t beautiful.”
“You’re right, it’s not,” Sam paused for a moment. “Did you know that in ancient times, prostitution was considered a sacred profession?”
Dean shook his head. “No, I didn’t know that.”
Sam nodded. “It’s true. Being a hooker was seen as holy because the hookers were providing a sacred service of the Goddess to their society. They were respected. Now though, we think that sex is something dirty so hookers get treated like something dirty. And something that should be positive and beautiful ends up being seen as negative and ugly.”
Dean nodded. “Which explains why Gwyn Ap Nudd said a hooker wasn’t acceptable for this rite,” he frowned. “Although I don’t see why he’d care about that when he’s perverting the damn thing anyway.”
Sam shrugged. “I guess he just really wanted your bright, shiny soul.” he hesitated a moment. “When you first picked me up and told me about Gwyn Ap Nudd, you said that he wasn’t a monster; that he’d make it good for me,” Sam paused, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “When you’re a hooker, getting hurt’s just a hazard of the job. So knowing a job’s safe, that’s never a bad thing. Sometimes, though, you really don’t want the sex. And getting off on something you don’t want is a total mind fuck. It’s like they get more than you were willing to give; something that wasn’t meant for them. So I get why you’re freaked, I really do. But you’re gonna be okay, Dean. You’re not gonna get hurt, you’re gonna get your Dad back and you’re gonna stop the Faeries from doing this to anyone else. You’ll get through this and you’ll be fine.”
Dean choked out a laugh. “And if I’m not? If I go mad like all the others did?”
Sam tilted his head and looked at Dean thoughtfully. “You already know that monsters are real. You’ve fought black dogs and werewolves and God knows what else. You’re not gonna see anything worse than you’ve already seen, so I can’t see you getting scared into insanity. But if you’re not okay…you’ve got me. I’ve got your back, man. I promise.”
Dean looked steadily at Sam for a moment and then his eyes slid across to the bed. “So what’s the deal with the whole ‘trading spaces’ thing?”
“Gonna set up a ritual space so that we can practice the whole rite. I figured the more familiar it felt, the easier it’d be for you when…you know…”
Dean turned back to the book without a word and Sam waited a moment to see if he was going to say anything else and when he didn’t, he got on with setting up. First he cleansed and consecrated the space, and then he drew a pentacle on the carpet with chalk and placed candles at various points around it, before gathering everything that he would need to cast a circle and placing it within easy reach. Finally, he grabbed the pillows and the quilt off the bed and dumped them, along with the lube and a condom, in the center of the pentacle.
“How you doing?” he asked Dean.
Dean shrugged. “I got the summoning down. It’s not actually all that long. And it’s in English.”
“You ready to do this?”
“Sure.”
“Wow. Your enthusiasm is completely underwhelming.”
Dean smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile; in fact it looked kind of dangerous and Sam wondered briefly how many supernatural creatures had seen that smile right before they died.
“You seriously expect me to be enthusiastic about rehearsing my own rape?” Dean spat.
Sam was by Dean’s side in two quick strides. He pulled the chair Dean was sitting in around to face him and then sank to his knees at Dean’s feet, his arms resting on Dean’s thighs.
“That’s not what this is about,” he said. “This is a beautiful ritual. I’ve been reading up on it and-I’ve had a lot of sex Dean, but you…you’re something else. No-one has ever made me feel the way you do. You’re erotic and sensual without even trying and the respect and reverence you have for sex…it’s obvious in every touch. You deserve this ritual the way it’s meant to be. Don’t get me wrong; we’re not actually gonna channel the God and the Goddess, we don’t have all the necessary ingredients to do the rite properly, but-” Sam waved a hand effusively, “I like the way this religion sees sex as something sacred. The Goddess says: ‘All acts of love and pleasure are my rituals’ so you can bet your ass she’s gonna be pissed when she realizes that Gwyn Ap Nudd’s been subverting her rituals.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “I am betting my ass,” he muttered.
Sam’s face fell. “I know,” he said. “The thing is you’re actually perfect for this ritual. No wait,” he held a hand up when Dean’s face hardened. “I don’t mean for Gwyn Ap Nudd’s perverted version, I mean for the proper ritual; the one where both parties choose willingly to be involved; where they share their sexual energy and channel it in prayer. That’s what I want us to do now. That’s what I want you to experience before…” Sam trailed off uncertainly. “Please, Dean. Please let me do this for you. It’ll be good, I promise.”
Dean took Sam’s hands in his own and stood up, bringing Sam with him.
“Okay,” he said. “Sounds like you’re planning to blow my mind…among other things…and I ain’t ever been one to turn down good sex. What do you want me to do?”
Sam licked his lips. “Maybe you could get naked and then sort out the pillows and shit. Maybe you could start lighting all the candles too.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna cast a circle.”
Dean stared at Sam for a moment and then smirked. “Sure thing Samantha, you go wiggle your nose or point your magic bone or whatever.”
Sam stuck his middle finger up. “How about I give you the magic finger instead?”
Dean’s eyes darkened abruptly and he sidled up to Sam and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him close. “You can give me your magic finger any time you like,” he quipped. He slid a hand down to Sam’s groin and cupped him through his jeans. “Your magic bone too.”
Sam groaned and pulled Dean’s over-shirt off, then lifted the hem of the hunter’s tee-shirt and tore it up over his head.
“Strip,” he demanded, and began pulling off his own clothes.
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have a magic circle to cast?”
“I can do it naked,” Sam said. “C’mon, Dean. Need to see you.”
Dean shucked his pants, briefs and socks and then went and lit the candles before collapsing on top of the quilt and the pillows. To be honest, the circle casting thing was kind of ridiculous, but any opportunity to watch Sam walk around naked wasn’t something to be missed, so Dean just lay back and enjoyed the view. Finally, Sam made his way over to Dean and dropped the book of invocations on the floor beside him. Dean parted his legs and let Sam settle down in between them.
“Invoke the Goddess,” Sam whispered
Dean rolled his eyes.
“I call upon the Mother of all Creation,” he intoned.
“Goddess Hecate, Goddess of fertility and fullness.
Wise one, filled with Luna's secrets
Whose torches light the darkened sky
Come into me now; fill Me with Your Presence
As I attend this Sacred Rite.”
Sam grinned at him and then looked down at the book on the floor.
“In Her name do I invoke thee,” he recited
“Mighty Father of us all Lugh, Pan, Balin, Herne, Cernunnos
Come in answer to my call!
Descend, I pray thee, into thy servant.”
“You feel any different?” Dean asked.
Sam shook his head. “You?”
“Nah.”
“Well, like I said, we’re not doing this for real, it’s just symbolic.”
He gazed down at Dean, naked below him and then glanced at the book before beginning to recite again.
“By seed and root and stem and bud and leaf and flower and fruit we do invoke Thee.”
He then leaned down and kissed Dean’s feet. “Blessed are your feet, which have brought you in these ways,” then he kissed his knees, “blessed are your knees that shall kneel at Her sacred altar,” he moved his lips to Dean’s shaft, “blessed is your-” Dean burst out laughing. “Sorry, Sammy,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “it’s just…I always knew I had a sacred cock, but hearing you say it out loud is just…it’s hilarious, man!” Sam grinned and sucked Dean into his mouth.
“Fuck! That wasn’t in the ritual!” Dean gasped, as Sam worked his hot, wet mouth up and down Dean’s hard length. Sam pulled off him and smirked. “All acts of pleasures are the Goddess’s rites, Dean.” He licked and kissed his way up Dean’s body, nuzzling at his lower stomach with his tongue and then inching his way up to his nipples and working them into desperate, aching peaks before moving up to his mouth. “Blessed are your lips,” he murmured, “which shall speak the sacred Names.”
Dean wriggled against him, his hard-on pressing into Sam’s belly, as Sam licked his way into Dean’s mouth, thrusting his tongue against Dean’s and then pulling back and sucking on his bottom lip. Dean whimpered and shoved his hips upward, his dick desperate for more friction. Sam pulled away from his lips. “Uh, uh,” he said, “we have to come together, and we’re gonna be taking our time, making sure we build the tension and the energy up slowly. So stop trying to hurry things along and just relax.”
Dean sighed but did as he was told.
Sam gave him a quick kiss and then sat back on his haunches.
“Spread your legs wider,” he said, “and put your arms out as if you were gonna do jumping jacks.”
Dean frowned. “What? Why?”
“It’s part of the ritual. You’re channeling the goddess, so basically, you’re the altar; we need you spread out like a pentagram, within a pentacle.”
Dean shivered, ever so slightly, at the thought of being laid out in such an exposed, vulnerable position. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. And don’t pretend you’re not totally getting off on the idea of being spread out below me like a buffet,” Sam waited for Dean to assume the position and when he didn’t move, he nudged his inner thigh gently. “C’mon. Spread’em.”
Dean’s eye darkened and he bit his bottom lip before complying with a groan.
“You know, in some traditions,” Sam said casually, “you’d be tied down for this.”
Dean’s traitorous dick throbbed and jerked at the delicious image Sam had just created and Dean bit his lip again and concentrated on remembering the babysitter he’d had when he was eight. Mrs Ellison had been ninety if she was a day, with wrinkled liver-spotted skin, and a horrible smell; some weird combination of mothballs, cat pee and decay. When Dean had himself back under control again he looked up and met Sam’s smoldering eyes. Sam leaned down and went to work. He sucked a bruise into the tender flesh above Dean’s hip and then gently licked the sting away before moving to his other hip and repeating the treatment. He worried at Dean’s belly button for an eternity before sucking a nipple into his mouth, biting gently and then sucking at it, swiping his tongue against the aching, swollen bud and then biting at it again until Dean was arching his back and begging, but whether he wanted Sam to stop or go harder wasn’t clear. Sam moved to the other nipple and gave it the same treatment until Dean was a writhing, gibbering mess.
Sometime while Sam had been sweetly tormenting Dean’s nipples he’d managed to slick his fingers with lube and as he moved down to suckle at Dean’s cock he began to stroke Dean’s puckered entrance.
“Fuck!” Dean arched off the floor.
Sam worked his middle finger deep inside, sliding it in and out until Dean’s hole was stretched and slicked, and then he added a second finger, simultaneously sucking Dean’s cock down to the root.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean chanted. “Oh God…Mrs Ellison…Mrs Ellison…swear to God she was a freakin’ revenant. Ungh! Goddamn it Sam! If you don’t fucking fuck me I swear I’m gonna…fuck!”
Sam pulled his fingers out and grinned wickedly. He reached for the condom he’d left lying on the quilt and opened it slowly before rolling the sheath onto his red, straining cock. Dean stared up at him with glazed eyes and a lust-blown expression and when Sam put the hunter’s legs over his shoulders, Dean didn’t so much as twitch, staying still and compliant while Sam manhandled him into position. When Sam finally sank into him, they both groaned.
“So tight, Dean,” Sam breathed, pulling his hips back and then thrusting in deep again. “Feel so good around me.” He changed his angle on the next thrust and hit Dean’s sweet spot just right. Dean bucked underneath him and fisted the quilt in his hands, gasping and groaning and generally running his mouth as his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Not yet, not yet,” Sam cautioned, “think about why we’re raising this energy; what we want to achieve.”
“Huh?” Dean gasped.
“It’s like a prayer, remember,” Sam said, “or making a wish. You send all the energy towards your goal. We’re gonna pray that everything goes right on May Day. When you come, that’s what you ask for, right?’
“Ngh,” Dean said.
Sam rolled his hips and increased his pace, plunging harder and deeper and nudging Dean’s prostate with every thrust.
“I’m nearly there,” Sam panted and Dean grabbed ahold of his cock and started to fist it in earnest. “Nearly…Oh God, Dean…come with me…now!”
Dean felt Sam pulsing inside him and it pushed him over the edge. He threw his head back and cried out as he came, only just remembering to pray to the goddess that May Day would be successful.
They lay together in a fog of bliss until Sam gathered his wits together enough to pull out and roll the condom off. He cleaned them both carefully and then snuffed out all the candles before taking down the circle and moving the quilt, the pillows and a sleepy, fucked-out Dean back up onto the bed. Sam lay behind Dean with a sigh and indulged in some heavy duty cuddling, knowing that Dean was too out of it to protest. He hoped with all his heart that what they’d just done would help Dean to get through May Day; that it would give him something positive to remember and hang on to when the time came and he had to do the ritual for real. Denial seemed to be Dean’s tried and true method for dealing with the things he didn’t want to face, but he was going to have to face this, and soon. Time was running out and in less than forty-eight hours, Dean would be back in the Faerie Realm, being forced to submit to the Faerie king as he took what he wanted with no concern for Dean’s desires. Sam hugged Dean fiercely and wished, not for the first time, that he could do something to protect Dean from having to make that sacrifice.
-X-
April 30th 2002
Sam had decided that he wasn’t going back to school until he’d sorted things out with Aazim and Dean promised to help him do just that; as soon as May Day was over and he had his Dad back. Not having Sam’s classes to worry about meant they stayed up late at night and then slept in the next day. As a hunter, Dean was very much a nocturnal creature, and Sam was still more comfortable with the hours he’d had to keep as a hustler than he was with those of a college student, so it wasn’t unusual for them to sleep until midday. Today, though, Sam had woken up at ten to find the motel room empty. All Dean’s stuff was still in the room, so it wasn’t like he’d decided to pack up and run, but Sam was still disconcerted; Aazim’s goons were still lurking about town and Sam didn’t like the idea that Dean had gone out without someone to watch his back.
When Dean finally strolled through the door carrying two paper bags that smelled strongly of bacon and egg muffins, and coffee for two, Sam wasn’t sure whether to hug him or punch him.
“You couldn’t’ve left a note?” he grouched.
“Sorry,” Dean said breezily.
“You know Aazim’s probably having the diner watched, right?”
“Oh he is,” Dean agreed, “But don’t worry, I lost ‘em. You’re still safe here.”
Sam ground his teeth in frustration. “I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about you. I know you’re a good fighter Dean, but so do they after last time, and you’re not bullet proof.”
“Don’t have to be when you’re a ninja,” Dean quipped.
Sam glowered and snatched the coffee and a brown paper bag off him. “More like a kamikaze,” he grumbled. “Don’t think I can’t see right through you.”
Dean just rolled his eyes and ignored him.
Once they were both ready, Dean insisted on going out pool hustling again. They went all the way to San Francisco this time and made more money in the one afternoon than they had on all their previous outings put together, despite the fact that Dean seemed hell bent on getting them into trouble. When he wasn’t picking fights he was being an outrageous cock tease, and he was knocking back double shots of whiskey at an unhealthy rate. By the time they went into their last bar for the afternoon Dean was tipsy and obviously spoiling for a brawl. Sam sat in a dark corner out of the way and watched Dean hustle a big bear of a guy in leather pants and a tight black tee-shirt. Everything about the guy screamed dominant and Sam had a feeling that whatever trouble Dean had been looking for all day, he might finally have found it. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he watched the competent way Leather-pants was manipulating Dean, playing him like a finely-tuned violin. He had a nasty suspicion that Leather-pants was going to be trouble of a sort that Dean really wasn’t equipped to handle and things were probably going to go south quickly. With a sigh he eased out of the bar. He went and sat by the Impala for a good fifteen minutes, psyching himself into the right headspace to out-dominate the dominant male; it helped that he was genuinely pissed off by how reckless Dean had been all day. Finally, he drew himself up, squared his shoulders and strode into the bar as if he owned the place.
Dean and Leather-pants had vanished.
Sam checked the restroom.
Nothing.
He went out the rear exit into the back alley and for one brief moment, he froze, adrenalin roaring through his veins and his heart just about ready to explode at the sight that greeted him. Leather-pants had Dean bent over the hood of a car, his face smashed against the metal, his hands pinned behind his back and his pants around his knees. The only thing Sam could hear past the blood pounding in his temple and the whooshing sound in his ears was Dean’s panicked voice saying no, no, no over and over again and the only thing that stopped him from physically attacking Leather-pants immediately was the fact that he hadn’t touched Dean intimately yet.
“Get your hands off him,” Sam roared. “He’s mine!”
Leather-pants spun to face him and the possessive expression on his face faded when he saw the look of abject fury on Sam’s.
“Don’t see your collar on him,” he said reasonably.
Sam closed the distance between them, yanked Dean upright and tore his tee-shirt off him.
“He doesn’t need a collar,” he said, “not when he’s got my marks all over him.”
Leather-pants looked at all the hickeys on Dean’s torso and neck and backed off, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“Easy mistake to make,” he said. “Your boy’s one helluva cocktease. You should keep him on a shorter leash.”
“Yeah,” Sam glowered at Dean. “Just wait ‘til I get you home,” he threatened. He thrust Dean’s tee-shirt into his hands. “Get dressed. And think yourself lucky I don’t bend you back over the hood and take my belt to you right here.”
The show of dominance was for Leather-pants’s benefit. Mostly. Sam was still plenty pissed at Dean for putting himself in danger and the yelling was a good outlet. Sam might even have enjoyed it if he hadn’t been able to see the way Dean was trembling.
“Keys!” Sam barked, as the door closed on Leather-pants’s back.
Dean put the car keys in Sam’s outstretched hand without a word.
“Let’s go,” Sam turned on his heel, not even bothering to check if Dean was following him. When they reached the car, Sam grabbed a fistful of Dean’s tee-shirt and slammed him against the car. “Are you insane?” he snarled. “You nearly got raped!” He let go of Dean without waiting for a reply and slid behind the Impala’s wheel. “Get in the car,” he growled and Dean didn’t argue, just climbed meekly into the passenger seat.
Sam was so blinded by rage that he drove for nearly fifteen minutes before he even saw the road. When he finally calmed down enough to be aware of his surroundings he realized that Dean was huddled against the door, watching him warily.
“You okay?” Sam asked him.
Dean nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to…” he trailed off uncertainly.
“You were just trying to provoke him into hurting you. You’ve been doing it all day.”
“What? No. I just figured if I flirted with him a little I might be able to hustle a few extra dollars out of him, that’s all.”
Sam shook his head. “You're lying. And you may as well drop it, cuz I can see right through you. I know you’re scared about tomorrow, but don’t do this to yourself.”
Dean snorted scornfully. “Yeah, right. I can do whatever I want, Sam. I don't need you to sign me a permission slip.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch-line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid. It’s okay to be scared. It’s not okay to go out and get yourself beaten up or raped.”
A charged silence permeated the car, building in the air until it became uncomfortable, and then Dean sighed.
“What does it even matter,” he muttered, “I’m gonna get raped tomorrow anyway.”
Sam spun the steering wheel abruptly and swung the car off the freeway and onto the hard shoulder.
“What the hell, man?” Dean spluttered. He met Sam’s eyes and whatever protest he was about to make died when he saw the raw hurt on Sam’s face.
“You think that only your first rape counts?” Sam’s voice was quiet but intense, “That the second time and the third time and the fourth time you get raped it doesn’t hurt? Doesn’t tear your soul apart? That it’s okay to rape somebody twenty, thirty, forty times because once they’ve been raped once it doesn’t matter anymore? Is that what you think, Dean?”
Dean shook his head, his bottom lip trembling as he fought to hang onto his composure. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You’re right. I’m an idiot.” He put his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes, colors sparking behind his eyeballs. “I don’t wanna get raped,” he said brokenly, “but I can’t get out of this ritual, can’t stop it happening and…” the tears that had been pooling in his eyes began to run down his cheeks and he wiped at them ineffectually, “I am so fucking terrified, Sammy.”
Almost immediately Sam scooped him up into a tight hug, kissing him and petting his hair, and even though a part of Dean rebelled at such chick-flick behavior, he decided to let himself have the comfort, just this once. When he realized that Sam’s cheeks were as wet as his own he frowned. “Sam? Why are you crying?”
Sam smiled sadly. “Because I don’t want you to have to do this, but I can’t get you out of it, can’t stop it happening. And I’m terrified that I’m gonna lose you.”
“Oh,” Dean was quiet for a moment and then he pushed Sam away as he tried to rein in his emotions.
“I’m uh, sorry about before. With Marcus.”
“Marcus?”
“The guy behind the bar. I didn’t mean to let it get that far.”
Sam nodded. “I know. Don’t do it again.”
Dean grimaced. “I won’t,” he squirmed uncomfortably and then glanced up at Sam. “So before, you know, with all the yelling and the threatening…that was just for show, right?”
“Mostly,” Sam admitted.
“Mostly,” Dean echoed. “But, uh, you’re not actually planning to take me home and, uh,” his eyes flashed down to Sam’s belt and a faint blush began to creep up his neck.
“Do you want me to?” Sam asked neutrally.
Dean shook his head.
“Then I won’t. But,” Sam added, and he rather enjoyed the way Dean’s eyes flashed in alarm. “We might have to go home and have a lot of sex.” A sour look crossed Sam’s face. “That guy’s hands were all over you. I didn’t like it,” he paused. “Are you on board with that idea?”
“Sounds good,” Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, another thing I was wondering. Do you actually have a drivers license Sam?”
Sam’s eyes widened like a puppy’s. “Not as such, no.”
Dean nodded. “Maybe I better drive us home then?”
For a little while, Dean stayed grounded, but as the evening wore on he got more and more jittery. It didn’t help that they didn’t know exactly when they Faeries would come for him. Sam wouldn’t let him have any more to drink but when Dean practically started climbing the walls a little before midnight, Sam agreed that they could go out for some pie. He almost hoped they’d run into Aazim, just to take Dean’s mind off things and give him an enemy he could actually fight.
As they cut through a back alley on their way to the diner the air in front of them suddenly shimmered, stopping them abruptly.
“No way!” Sam snarled as a squadron of Faerie guards appeared before them. He turned to Dean, expecting the hunter to fight or protest or something, but Dean just stood there, his eyes resigned and his shoulders slumped.
“It is time,” one of the Faeries said.
Dean just nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“Here,” he said, “that’s everything we made hustling today. Take it. And here’s the key to the room. Would you…would you wait for me?”
“Of course,” Sam threw his arms around the hunter and squeezed him hard. “You’re gonna be okay,” he reassured him, before pulling away. “Good luck.”
Dean nodded and then stepped forward, his arms spread wide.
“Okay,” he said, “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
The air shimmered again and Dean and the Faeries disappeared.
Sam stood for a moment in shock and then he got his cell phone out and checked the time; it was 12.01. The Faeries had come for Dean at exactly midnight. And all Sam could think of, as he stared at the place where Dean had disappeared, was a line from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a play that the tutors at Youth Outreach had made him study: ‘The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.’
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