FIC: Weapon of Choice: Chapter 4
Jul. 3rd, 2006 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xantissaTitle: Weapon of Choice
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: xantissa
Summary: A case turning out to be a set up. Sam taken away from him. An enemy he can’t identify. Father that struggles to understand. Dean, alone, fighting to save his brother from power no one can really understand.
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: 18+
Warnings: incest, slash, demon possession, violence.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all it’s characters belong to WB. I do it just for fun, no profit being made from my writing.
Spoilers: Mild for Asylum, Nightmare tiny ones for probably most of the first season.
// - indicate journal entries
Chapter 4
Dean wanted to check if the spell worked, wanted to see if his theory was true, that Sam would come after him. Straight from the witch, he headed for a bar he scoped out earlier. Just his kind of thing, with a side room with a pool table. It was in an industrial part of town, far away from the heavily populated area and with clientele that looked, but never saw anything. Just what he needed.
He strolled in, inhaling the smoke and the unique scent that seemed to always be a part of places like this. He got himself a beer and headed for the pool table. It was empty at this hour. Good. He would have a chance to play a game or two by himself.
He shrugged the leather jacket off and reached for the triangle. He dressed carefully for this occasion. Black tee just a little bit too tight, his most favorite, torn pair of jeans that hugged his ass in the most complimentary way. Smirking, he stretched himself over the table with the cue. Time get the show started.
Three hours later, he’d won two hundred dollars and still there was no sign of Sam. Maybe he expected too much from Sam to know where he is. It could also mean that Sam was watching him and that he was perfectly aware that he and Dad were trying to find a way to exorcise or kill him. If Sam indeed came, it would be like dancing with the Devil.
His hand shook a bit when he reached for the white ball. It occurred to him, now, in this dingy bar that he missed Sam. Missed his whining about the way Dean got their money, missed the silent companionship, he even missed the eye rolls that just screamed of brotherly frustration.
Suddenly, he heard the door separating the playing area from the bar itself close. The air changed in the room, becoming heavy with anticipation and silence. The muffled sound of people in the other room faded into the background as Dean recognized the soft footsteps approaching him. He stilled, froze completely halfway through the move of hitting the white ball with the cue. The steps were soft, achingly familiar, yet so different now.
“You playing for money?” Asked the voice he’d known for 22 years. God, but it twisted something inside him, made his eye sting and his hand shake.
Sam.
“Yeah.” He croaked, making it a point not to look at his brother. He still had nightmares about Sam’s face with those horrible black lines. He didn’t want to see it again so soon.
He felt Sam come closer, stand behind him so close he could feel the heat of his body. His heartbeat accelerated, warmth spread through his body and damn, but the spell was working already because he was getting half hard from simply having Sam close.
The younger man pulled a fifty and put it on the edge of the table. Dean watched the long -fingered hand put the bill and then smooth it lightly with the tips of his fingers. There was something undeniably erotic about this move, about the way Sam’s hand rested on the wooden edge of the table, their fingers touching. There was a kind of aggressive, dark sexuality in the way Sam stood behind him, so close he could feel the heat of his body through his clothes, yet far enough away that they weren’t actually touching.
“Wanna play?” Dean asked hoarsely, his throat so dry he was amazed he managed to speak the words at all.
“Yes.” The word was spoken so close to his ear, he felt the moist puffs of air on his skin. It sent shivers down his spine, straight to his cock.
His mind was confused. His body reacted with desire so strong, he could almost taste it, but logically, he knew it was his brother and that he didn’t feel this way. But he trained himself to accept his physicality a long time ago. It was scary, how easy it was to shut his mind off and act like Sam was one of his many conquests. At least for now.
He would do anything for his brother. Even this.
He watched Sam move towards the cues. He was dressed completely in black. Black jeans, black shirt and leather duster reaching down to his ankles. It looked surprisingly good on his lean brother. It looked hot, and Dean fought back the wave of confusion and disgust that threatened to overwhelm him.
“You start.” He offered as he watched Sam stroke his long fingered hand over one of the cues, his fingers barely touching it before he pulled it out of its holder. When Sam turned towards him, he was relieved to see that there were no black lines on his face now. His eyes were still too green, too vivid for them to be really human, but he could live with it. Just not that darkness.
Dean didn’t really remember the game. The moves were automatic, the game only a blur. What he remembered though, was the way his brother moved, the way he stretched his long body over the green table to reach the perfect angle, the way his eyes barely ever left Dean, they way his skin seemed to almost glow in the relative darkness of the room. He remembered the way Sam would brush against him when they moved around the table, like it was some kind of intricate dance. He remembered only the pounding of his heart, the roar of his blood in his ears and Sam’s utter silence. Beyond the few words spoken between them at the beginning, Sam didn’t make a sound. When he moved, his clothes didn’t rustle, his footsteps were quieter than any man’s should ever be and it unnerved Dean. Because he seemed to drown in the thunder of his blood, his fear, his unwanted desire.
Dean watched the last ball fall into the pocket. It terrified him.
“It seems I won.” He didn’t quite manage his trademark smirk as he pocketed the money.
Moving faster than any human could, Sam was there suddenly, barely inches from him. One pale hand caught Dean’s wrist in a careful but strong grip, the other still held loosely along his body. Not an attack then.
“I know what you are trying to do.” Sam said in a deep, dark voice, his lips so close to Dean’s ear he could feel the air displaced by their movements.
Sam used the advantage of his height, his body almost enveloping Dean, and hell if it didn’t make him harder than before, his jeans now uncomfortably tight.
Before he gathered his wits enough to answer, he felt Sam’s hand move towards his waist, down his back until it rested on the handle of the small dagger carefully hidden in the belt.
“You can’t kill me.” Sam tightened his hand on Dean’s wrist and flattened his other against his back, as if daring him to move, to try to escape. “You can’t exorcise me.” He licked the flesh just beneath Dean’s ear. “This.” He pressed harder on the dagger. “This can’t hurt me. Nothing can.”
“I’m not here to kill you.” Dean said, his voice roughened beyond any recognition.
Sam smiled, but it was cold and twisted. Barely a curl to his lips that didn’t reach his flat, dead eyes.
“Oh really? Then why did you put yourself here as a bait for me?”
This was it. Fight or flight moment. Because somehow he knew, that Sam would actually let him escape if he wanted it enough. But he didn’t. He wasn’t going to abandon his brother. Not now, not ever.
“Because of this.” He answered surging forward, his free hand gripping the back of Sam’s head and pulling him down into a kiss that was all teeth and power and hunger. Sam’s lips parted under the assault and with a low growl he attacked Dean with as much fervor. Their teeth clashed, tongues dueled. Dean felt a trickle of saliva or maybe blood, run down his mouth and pushed, making Sam lean over the table backwards, he twisted his hand tree and fisted it into Sam’s shirt pulling him closer, needing to feel his heat, needing to feel that solid, hard chest under his hands, under his body.
Some part of his mind replayed the way Sam killed those men that tried to kill Dean, how ruthlessly and efficiently he gutted them, killed them. He remembered the raw power he saw in his brother, and it gave him a sudden rush to realize that, for that brief moment, he was controlling it. That he had that power in his hands and it complied, molded itself for him, under him, into him.
There was hunger in Sam’s kiss. Hunger and desperation and need. Need that could scorch him if he wasn’t careful. But how could he be careful with his brother’s arms scratching at his back even through the tee, Dean could feel him leaving angry, stinging marks behind. He pulled back from the kiss, his mouth found the long neck and he bit down, hard in revenge, scraping his teeth along the tendons he found there.
It exhilarated him when Sam actually leaned back, tilted his head back to give him more access. It was power, pure and simple now twisted in his hands. And for a moment, for a brief heartbeat of hope he forgot it was his brother’s body possessed by something he didn’t know, didn’t understand and feared. He just felt, tasted the salty skin and sweat, smelled the scent of leather, soap and this something that was undoubtedly male.
It wouldn’t be the first time he was with a man, although he didn’t make it a habit of it. Men were sometimes a welcome distraction, but they too often wanted to dominate, to be the one in control and in bed, Dean was the only one to be on top. But when he felt his bother’s hands grip his shoulder in a strong, bruising grip and spin him around, until it was him pressed into the unforgiving wood, Dean thought that it might actually change tonight. It didn’t matter though. There were many reasons, most important that there was reason for it all and if it’ll help him get his brother back, he’d do it and so, so much more. He doubted if Sam understood when Dean told him there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. Sometimes Dean didn’t want to know either.
He felt Sam’s lips on his jaw, teeth scraping his skin gently, the tongue rasping over his stubble. The room was quiet except for their harsh breathing and the rustle of clothing. He tried very hard not to think that it wasn’t really Sam touching him, that it was a creature, a demon within him. As long as this knowledge stayed on the edges of his consciousness, everything was all right.
Dean pushed Sam back, making him let go of his neck, even though he knew a mark was already there. His cock was hard and aching, his heart was trying to beat itself out of his chest. He could feel his lips swell from the rough kisses, becoming fuller and redder.
Sam often teased him about his ego. And maybe he did have an ego blown out of proportion, but all those women fawning over him kept it inflated nicely. Dean was perfectly aware of how he looked, of the way people looked at him. His clothing, his haircut, his body language always conformed to their looks, their want. It was much easier to win in pool when your partner was staring at your ass or hands, instead of the cue. He knew that and he knew how to use it.
Forcing himself to meet the too green, almost luminescent eyes, Dean licked his lips slowly and then planted both his hands on the edge of the pool table and lifted himself up. He did it slowly, making his biceps bunch and stretch as he slowly dragged himself on the tabletop, his hips pushing forwards for a moment making the bulge in his jeans just that much more prominent.
When he was sitting on the edge, strangely aroused by the way Sam’s green eyes watched his body as if memorizing every single ridge, every plane, Dean curled one leg under himself and slowly, still staring at Sam crawled backwards, till he was in the center of the table. He noticed the way his brother’s lips parted and tongue snaked out as if mimicking his own gestures. His not so little brother grabbed both his ankles and slowly, never taking his eyes from Dean’s face, pulled his legs apart on the green cloth. Dean could feel the heat of his hands searing him even through the layer of denim.
His breath hitched as Sam, using those freakishly long limbs of his, started slowly crawling on the table on his hands and knees, straight into the v that his legs created. His movements were slow, deliberate and predatory. His too-long hair fell into his eyes obscuring them in shadows, the muscles of his arms bunched up in all the beautiful ways and Dean had to swallow a groan, because fuck, but that witch knew what she was doing with her spell.
Now, more than ever, Dean had to acknowledge just how much taller his brother was. The way he kneeled above him, his body clad in the clinging, black cotton obscuring the light, hiding them in shadows. Sam leaned in, so close he was almost touching Dean’s lips with his own and stopped. Waiting. So completely still it made Dean feel as if he was vibrating with tension himself.
He wasn’t going to wait, he wasn’t the one to be passive, so he reached up, tangling his hand in the shaggy hair that seemed to have a life of its own and pulled down, masking their lips together, forcing the taller man to lay on him, wanting to feel the weight, the heat. In that moment, when Sam pushed his knee higher into the juncture of Dean’s legs, pressing it into the aching cock resting there Dean was sure. Sure beyond any logic, that Sam was still there somewhere. Because the demon or whatever it was wanted Dean and if it was only it, that it wouldn’t have hesitated, just took whatever it wanted. This however was hot and desperate and needy, but from the way his brother controlled the fierce power Dean saw him use before, it was proof that he didn’t want to hurt Dean. No demon could be this human.
Sam moved till his right hand rested on the table above Dean’s head, his lips fastened tightly on Dean’s neck worrying the side of his neck to the point of pleasurable pain. His other hand slid down, over Dean’s heaving chest, his hip towards the raised leg. Sam pulled it higher, making Dean make space for him between his legs and gripped the back of Dean’s thighs with bruising force. Sam shifted once more and, Jesus Christ, Dean’s eyes rolled back as he felt the hard, delicious press of a hard cock against his aching one.
His younger brother moved slowly, his hips thrusting hard and slow into him, sending shock after shock of pleasure through him. Dean fisted his hand in the longish hair harder, pulling his mouth up to his, thrusting his tongue inside, tasting seeking anything, everything. He needed so much, felt too much and his brain was turning into mush. All he knew right there was that he needed flesh, bare flesh or he would go insane. Using his free hand, he pulled and tugged at the offending shirt until he had it out of Sam’s jeans and his hand slid under the cloths finally touching the heated skin he longed for. He opened his mouth wider and lifted his hips pressing harder into Sam’s seeking the maddening friction. He felt saliva run down his cheek but didn’t care. He felt the hot skin under his calloused palm, felt the muscles shift and bunch with every slow circle of Sam’s hips, felt his tongue, cool and slick and agile in his mouth. He was so close to coming, the tension in his balls coiling and heating his whole body and he knew that he just needed that something more to come. It was all so wrong, so dirty and hot and he didn’t care beyond the pulsing in his dick. He curled his fingers, blunt nails digging into the silky skin and then he pulled his hand down, scratching the whole length of Sam’s back hard enough to draw blood.
His brother cursed and arched up, stretching his long, long neck, his eyes closed and face twisted in pleasure so great it was almost pain. With a shudder and a groan he came, his hips jerking once, twice against Dean before he lowered his head, his green eyes now much darker, his face flushed and lips parted, wet and swollen. He was, in that moment, the most beautiful, hottest thing Dean had ever seen. Without a word, his eyes still glued to Dean’s, he slid his hand along Dean’s hips and then over his flat, hard stomach under the waistband of his jeans and underwear. His fingers found the straining cock there and closed over it.
It was enough, just the feel of those hot fingers on his dick was enough to send Dean over the edge, and he cursed as he felt his whole body clench and pulse as he spurted load after load of come. His vision grayed out for a moment and his body relaxed into boneless stupor. He didn’t remember ever coming this hard in his life.
Sam, possessed or not, was waiting for him calmly, patiently, still leaning on his elbow, not wanting to smother Dean to death. He was slowly licking the sweat from Dean’s face. Little, cat-like licks over his chin, his eyebrows, his forehead.
When Dean came back to himself enough to open his eyes, he saw the same green, almost emerald eyes staring at him with some kind of emotion. He couldn’t read it but was definitely better than the dead, flat eyes he saw before. Sam smiled at him, that mysterious half smirk that was nothing like the honest, beautiful laugh Sam was capable of and then pulled his hand from Dean’s jeans. Slowly, still staring him in the eye, Sam lifted the hand to his lips and flicked his tongue over the come-stained finger. He made a show if putting into his mouth and sucking, hollowing his cheeks and making dirty sucking noises.
“Jesus.” Was all Dean could say.
A still smirking Sam popped the finger out of his mouth and pressed another one to Dean’s lips, forcing it slowly past the soft lips, making Dean taste himself.
Dean only parted his lips letting him, tasting himself and Sam on the finger. He licked it, flicking his tongue over it gently, but suggestively. Sam pulled the finger out and leaned down for another kiss, this one slower, gentler as he was satisfied for a moment. His tongue pressed into Dean’s mouth and sought out any and all traces of taste there, possessing Dean in way’s he didn’t yet understand.
Finally he pulled back, his body tensing.
Dean saw Sam’s eyes become black for a moment, the whites disappearing. Before he had the time to react, the black contracted and Sam looked back at him with green eyes. Dean found out that when he looked like that, just like his brother, it was hard to remember that it wasn’t Sam, not really.
“I must go.” There was a trace of genuine regret in his voice.
Dean watched as Sam rolled of the table with ease and grace he never had before, watched him pull the coat on again and decided to test his theory a bit more, see if the creature was willing to share something with him. If it would trust him.
“Does it hurt?” He asked rolling himself to the edge of the table.
Sam turned to look at him without any expression.
“What?”
Dean looked at him and said slowly, “The eyes. Does it hurt to keep the black hidden?”
Sam looked at him from beneath the longish hair, his face as unreadable as before. He was still, and that stillness was what unnerved Dean the most. No human could be this absolutely still.
“Yes.” Came the unexpected answer.
“Then why do you do it?”
He tilted his head back, letting the hair fall from his forehead exposing his eyes for Dean.
“Because that’s what you want to see.”
Dean exhaled slowly.
“You don’t have to.”
Sam tilted his head to the side, so very obviously taken aback by Dean’s behavior.
“Why?” This time it was Sam who asked.
Dean didn’t have to pretend honesty this time.
“Because I want you to come back.”
Sam didn’t answer, but Dean knew that the message has been delivered. Sam would come to him again.
TBC
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: xantissa
Summary: A case turning out to be a set up. Sam taken away from him. An enemy he can’t identify. Father that struggles to understand. Dean, alone, fighting to save his brother from power no one can really understand.
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: 18+
Warnings: incest, slash, demon possession, violence.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all it’s characters belong to WB. I do it just for fun, no profit being made from my writing.
Spoilers: Mild for Asylum, Nightmare tiny ones for probably most of the first season.
// - indicate journal entries
Chapter 4
Dean wanted to check if the spell worked, wanted to see if his theory was true, that Sam would come after him. Straight from the witch, he headed for a bar he scoped out earlier. Just his kind of thing, with a side room with a pool table. It was in an industrial part of town, far away from the heavily populated area and with clientele that looked, but never saw anything. Just what he needed.
He strolled in, inhaling the smoke and the unique scent that seemed to always be a part of places like this. He got himself a beer and headed for the pool table. It was empty at this hour. Good. He would have a chance to play a game or two by himself.
He shrugged the leather jacket off and reached for the triangle. He dressed carefully for this occasion. Black tee just a little bit too tight, his most favorite, torn pair of jeans that hugged his ass in the most complimentary way. Smirking, he stretched himself over the table with the cue. Time get the show started.
Three hours later, he’d won two hundred dollars and still there was no sign of Sam. Maybe he expected too much from Sam to know where he is. It could also mean that Sam was watching him and that he was perfectly aware that he and Dad were trying to find a way to exorcise or kill him. If Sam indeed came, it would be like dancing with the Devil.
His hand shook a bit when he reached for the white ball. It occurred to him, now, in this dingy bar that he missed Sam. Missed his whining about the way Dean got their money, missed the silent companionship, he even missed the eye rolls that just screamed of brotherly frustration.
Suddenly, he heard the door separating the playing area from the bar itself close. The air changed in the room, becoming heavy with anticipation and silence. The muffled sound of people in the other room faded into the background as Dean recognized the soft footsteps approaching him. He stilled, froze completely halfway through the move of hitting the white ball with the cue. The steps were soft, achingly familiar, yet so different now.
“You playing for money?” Asked the voice he’d known for 22 years. God, but it twisted something inside him, made his eye sting and his hand shake.
Sam.
“Yeah.” He croaked, making it a point not to look at his brother. He still had nightmares about Sam’s face with those horrible black lines. He didn’t want to see it again so soon.
He felt Sam come closer, stand behind him so close he could feel the heat of his body. His heartbeat accelerated, warmth spread through his body and damn, but the spell was working already because he was getting half hard from simply having Sam close.
The younger man pulled a fifty and put it on the edge of the table. Dean watched the long -fingered hand put the bill and then smooth it lightly with the tips of his fingers. There was something undeniably erotic about this move, about the way Sam’s hand rested on the wooden edge of the table, their fingers touching. There was a kind of aggressive, dark sexuality in the way Sam stood behind him, so close he could feel the heat of his body through his clothes, yet far enough away that they weren’t actually touching.
“Wanna play?” Dean asked hoarsely, his throat so dry he was amazed he managed to speak the words at all.
“Yes.” The word was spoken so close to his ear, he felt the moist puffs of air on his skin. It sent shivers down his spine, straight to his cock.
His mind was confused. His body reacted with desire so strong, he could almost taste it, but logically, he knew it was his brother and that he didn’t feel this way. But he trained himself to accept his physicality a long time ago. It was scary, how easy it was to shut his mind off and act like Sam was one of his many conquests. At least for now.
He would do anything for his brother. Even this.
He watched Sam move towards the cues. He was dressed completely in black. Black jeans, black shirt and leather duster reaching down to his ankles. It looked surprisingly good on his lean brother. It looked hot, and Dean fought back the wave of confusion and disgust that threatened to overwhelm him.
“You start.” He offered as he watched Sam stroke his long fingered hand over one of the cues, his fingers barely touching it before he pulled it out of its holder. When Sam turned towards him, he was relieved to see that there were no black lines on his face now. His eyes were still too green, too vivid for them to be really human, but he could live with it. Just not that darkness.
Dean didn’t really remember the game. The moves were automatic, the game only a blur. What he remembered though, was the way his brother moved, the way he stretched his long body over the green table to reach the perfect angle, the way his eyes barely ever left Dean, they way his skin seemed to almost glow in the relative darkness of the room. He remembered the way Sam would brush against him when they moved around the table, like it was some kind of intricate dance. He remembered only the pounding of his heart, the roar of his blood in his ears and Sam’s utter silence. Beyond the few words spoken between them at the beginning, Sam didn’t make a sound. When he moved, his clothes didn’t rustle, his footsteps were quieter than any man’s should ever be and it unnerved Dean. Because he seemed to drown in the thunder of his blood, his fear, his unwanted desire.
Dean watched the last ball fall into the pocket. It terrified him.
“It seems I won.” He didn’t quite manage his trademark smirk as he pocketed the money.
Moving faster than any human could, Sam was there suddenly, barely inches from him. One pale hand caught Dean’s wrist in a careful but strong grip, the other still held loosely along his body. Not an attack then.
“I know what you are trying to do.” Sam said in a deep, dark voice, his lips so close to Dean’s ear he could feel the air displaced by their movements.
Sam used the advantage of his height, his body almost enveloping Dean, and hell if it didn’t make him harder than before, his jeans now uncomfortably tight.
Before he gathered his wits enough to answer, he felt Sam’s hand move towards his waist, down his back until it rested on the handle of the small dagger carefully hidden in the belt.
“You can’t kill me.” Sam tightened his hand on Dean’s wrist and flattened his other against his back, as if daring him to move, to try to escape. “You can’t exorcise me.” He licked the flesh just beneath Dean’s ear. “This.” He pressed harder on the dagger. “This can’t hurt me. Nothing can.”
“I’m not here to kill you.” Dean said, his voice roughened beyond any recognition.
Sam smiled, but it was cold and twisted. Barely a curl to his lips that didn’t reach his flat, dead eyes.
“Oh really? Then why did you put yourself here as a bait for me?”
This was it. Fight or flight moment. Because somehow he knew, that Sam would actually let him escape if he wanted it enough. But he didn’t. He wasn’t going to abandon his brother. Not now, not ever.
“Because of this.” He answered surging forward, his free hand gripping the back of Sam’s head and pulling him down into a kiss that was all teeth and power and hunger. Sam’s lips parted under the assault and with a low growl he attacked Dean with as much fervor. Their teeth clashed, tongues dueled. Dean felt a trickle of saliva or maybe blood, run down his mouth and pushed, making Sam lean over the table backwards, he twisted his hand tree and fisted it into Sam’s shirt pulling him closer, needing to feel his heat, needing to feel that solid, hard chest under his hands, under his body.
Some part of his mind replayed the way Sam killed those men that tried to kill Dean, how ruthlessly and efficiently he gutted them, killed them. He remembered the raw power he saw in his brother, and it gave him a sudden rush to realize that, for that brief moment, he was controlling it. That he had that power in his hands and it complied, molded itself for him, under him, into him.
There was hunger in Sam’s kiss. Hunger and desperation and need. Need that could scorch him if he wasn’t careful. But how could he be careful with his brother’s arms scratching at his back even through the tee, Dean could feel him leaving angry, stinging marks behind. He pulled back from the kiss, his mouth found the long neck and he bit down, hard in revenge, scraping his teeth along the tendons he found there.
It exhilarated him when Sam actually leaned back, tilted his head back to give him more access. It was power, pure and simple now twisted in his hands. And for a moment, for a brief heartbeat of hope he forgot it was his brother’s body possessed by something he didn’t know, didn’t understand and feared. He just felt, tasted the salty skin and sweat, smelled the scent of leather, soap and this something that was undoubtedly male.
It wouldn’t be the first time he was with a man, although he didn’t make it a habit of it. Men were sometimes a welcome distraction, but they too often wanted to dominate, to be the one in control and in bed, Dean was the only one to be on top. But when he felt his bother’s hands grip his shoulder in a strong, bruising grip and spin him around, until it was him pressed into the unforgiving wood, Dean thought that it might actually change tonight. It didn’t matter though. There were many reasons, most important that there was reason for it all and if it’ll help him get his brother back, he’d do it and so, so much more. He doubted if Sam understood when Dean told him there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. Sometimes Dean didn’t want to know either.
He felt Sam’s lips on his jaw, teeth scraping his skin gently, the tongue rasping over his stubble. The room was quiet except for their harsh breathing and the rustle of clothing. He tried very hard not to think that it wasn’t really Sam touching him, that it was a creature, a demon within him. As long as this knowledge stayed on the edges of his consciousness, everything was all right.
Dean pushed Sam back, making him let go of his neck, even though he knew a mark was already there. His cock was hard and aching, his heart was trying to beat itself out of his chest. He could feel his lips swell from the rough kisses, becoming fuller and redder.
Sam often teased him about his ego. And maybe he did have an ego blown out of proportion, but all those women fawning over him kept it inflated nicely. Dean was perfectly aware of how he looked, of the way people looked at him. His clothing, his haircut, his body language always conformed to their looks, their want. It was much easier to win in pool when your partner was staring at your ass or hands, instead of the cue. He knew that and he knew how to use it.
Forcing himself to meet the too green, almost luminescent eyes, Dean licked his lips slowly and then planted both his hands on the edge of the pool table and lifted himself up. He did it slowly, making his biceps bunch and stretch as he slowly dragged himself on the tabletop, his hips pushing forwards for a moment making the bulge in his jeans just that much more prominent.
When he was sitting on the edge, strangely aroused by the way Sam’s green eyes watched his body as if memorizing every single ridge, every plane, Dean curled one leg under himself and slowly, still staring at Sam crawled backwards, till he was in the center of the table. He noticed the way his brother’s lips parted and tongue snaked out as if mimicking his own gestures. His not so little brother grabbed both his ankles and slowly, never taking his eyes from Dean’s face, pulled his legs apart on the green cloth. Dean could feel the heat of his hands searing him even through the layer of denim.
His breath hitched as Sam, using those freakishly long limbs of his, started slowly crawling on the table on his hands and knees, straight into the v that his legs created. His movements were slow, deliberate and predatory. His too-long hair fell into his eyes obscuring them in shadows, the muscles of his arms bunched up in all the beautiful ways and Dean had to swallow a groan, because fuck, but that witch knew what she was doing with her spell.
Now, more than ever, Dean had to acknowledge just how much taller his brother was. The way he kneeled above him, his body clad in the clinging, black cotton obscuring the light, hiding them in shadows. Sam leaned in, so close he was almost touching Dean’s lips with his own and stopped. Waiting. So completely still it made Dean feel as if he was vibrating with tension himself.
He wasn’t going to wait, he wasn’t the one to be passive, so he reached up, tangling his hand in the shaggy hair that seemed to have a life of its own and pulled down, masking their lips together, forcing the taller man to lay on him, wanting to feel the weight, the heat. In that moment, when Sam pushed his knee higher into the juncture of Dean’s legs, pressing it into the aching cock resting there Dean was sure. Sure beyond any logic, that Sam was still there somewhere. Because the demon or whatever it was wanted Dean and if it was only it, that it wouldn’t have hesitated, just took whatever it wanted. This however was hot and desperate and needy, but from the way his brother controlled the fierce power Dean saw him use before, it was proof that he didn’t want to hurt Dean. No demon could be this human.
Sam moved till his right hand rested on the table above Dean’s head, his lips fastened tightly on Dean’s neck worrying the side of his neck to the point of pleasurable pain. His other hand slid down, over Dean’s heaving chest, his hip towards the raised leg. Sam pulled it higher, making Dean make space for him between his legs and gripped the back of Dean’s thighs with bruising force. Sam shifted once more and, Jesus Christ, Dean’s eyes rolled back as he felt the hard, delicious press of a hard cock against his aching one.
His younger brother moved slowly, his hips thrusting hard and slow into him, sending shock after shock of pleasure through him. Dean fisted his hand in the longish hair harder, pulling his mouth up to his, thrusting his tongue inside, tasting seeking anything, everything. He needed so much, felt too much and his brain was turning into mush. All he knew right there was that he needed flesh, bare flesh or he would go insane. Using his free hand, he pulled and tugged at the offending shirt until he had it out of Sam’s jeans and his hand slid under the cloths finally touching the heated skin he longed for. He opened his mouth wider and lifted his hips pressing harder into Sam’s seeking the maddening friction. He felt saliva run down his cheek but didn’t care. He felt the hot skin under his calloused palm, felt the muscles shift and bunch with every slow circle of Sam’s hips, felt his tongue, cool and slick and agile in his mouth. He was so close to coming, the tension in his balls coiling and heating his whole body and he knew that he just needed that something more to come. It was all so wrong, so dirty and hot and he didn’t care beyond the pulsing in his dick. He curled his fingers, blunt nails digging into the silky skin and then he pulled his hand down, scratching the whole length of Sam’s back hard enough to draw blood.
His brother cursed and arched up, stretching his long, long neck, his eyes closed and face twisted in pleasure so great it was almost pain. With a shudder and a groan he came, his hips jerking once, twice against Dean before he lowered his head, his green eyes now much darker, his face flushed and lips parted, wet and swollen. He was, in that moment, the most beautiful, hottest thing Dean had ever seen. Without a word, his eyes still glued to Dean’s, he slid his hand along Dean’s hips and then over his flat, hard stomach under the waistband of his jeans and underwear. His fingers found the straining cock there and closed over it.
It was enough, just the feel of those hot fingers on his dick was enough to send Dean over the edge, and he cursed as he felt his whole body clench and pulse as he spurted load after load of come. His vision grayed out for a moment and his body relaxed into boneless stupor. He didn’t remember ever coming this hard in his life.
Sam, possessed or not, was waiting for him calmly, patiently, still leaning on his elbow, not wanting to smother Dean to death. He was slowly licking the sweat from Dean’s face. Little, cat-like licks over his chin, his eyebrows, his forehead.
When Dean came back to himself enough to open his eyes, he saw the same green, almost emerald eyes staring at him with some kind of emotion. He couldn’t read it but was definitely better than the dead, flat eyes he saw before. Sam smiled at him, that mysterious half smirk that was nothing like the honest, beautiful laugh Sam was capable of and then pulled his hand from Dean’s jeans. Slowly, still staring him in the eye, Sam lifted the hand to his lips and flicked his tongue over the come-stained finger. He made a show if putting into his mouth and sucking, hollowing his cheeks and making dirty sucking noises.
“Jesus.” Was all Dean could say.
A still smirking Sam popped the finger out of his mouth and pressed another one to Dean’s lips, forcing it slowly past the soft lips, making Dean taste himself.
Dean only parted his lips letting him, tasting himself and Sam on the finger. He licked it, flicking his tongue over it gently, but suggestively. Sam pulled the finger out and leaned down for another kiss, this one slower, gentler as he was satisfied for a moment. His tongue pressed into Dean’s mouth and sought out any and all traces of taste there, possessing Dean in way’s he didn’t yet understand.
Finally he pulled back, his body tensing.
Dean saw Sam’s eyes become black for a moment, the whites disappearing. Before he had the time to react, the black contracted and Sam looked back at him with green eyes. Dean found out that when he looked like that, just like his brother, it was hard to remember that it wasn’t Sam, not really.
“I must go.” There was a trace of genuine regret in his voice.
Dean watched as Sam rolled of the table with ease and grace he never had before, watched him pull the coat on again and decided to test his theory a bit more, see if the creature was willing to share something with him. If it would trust him.
“Does it hurt?” He asked rolling himself to the edge of the table.
Sam turned to look at him without any expression.
“What?”
Dean looked at him and said slowly, “The eyes. Does it hurt to keep the black hidden?”
Sam looked at him from beneath the longish hair, his face as unreadable as before. He was still, and that stillness was what unnerved Dean the most. No human could be this absolutely still.
“Yes.” Came the unexpected answer.
“Then why do you do it?”
He tilted his head back, letting the hair fall from his forehead exposing his eyes for Dean.
“Because that’s what you want to see.”
Dean exhaled slowly.
“You don’t have to.”
Sam tilted his head to the side, so very obviously taken aback by Dean’s behavior.
“Why?” This time it was Sam who asked.
Dean didn’t have to pretend honesty this time.
“Because I want you to come back.”
Sam didn’t answer, but Dean knew that the message has been delivered. Sam would come to him again.
TBC
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-03 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 09:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-03 10:42 pm (UTC)Loving this series so far, keep up the good work and I hope yoou get some internet time beacuse I know how much it sucks to be without it. I really love the plot to this story it's one of my faves so far =D *gives you brownies*
=D Thanx for sharing this story with us.
xXx TazzyTaz xXx
no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 09:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 07:38 am (UTC)I like that you don't have one of those sudden, oh sammy wants me well i think I'll go fuck my brother this is so easy kind of things that happens so often. You really let Dean be shocked by it, let him make the decision to sacrifice in order to try and save Sam and then pulled a brilliant idea out of your hat with the lust potion, because that isn't something you can force or fake and it left everything open for you to have the VERY nice sex seem believable and sexy.
I am really looking forward to what you choose to do next with this. There is a pretty big issue I have while reading this, and I went looking in your journal to find out if I was right in my guess. English is your second language isn't it. It seemed the only possibility when I was reading this and the story actually had a lot of great imagery and a good plot and obviously thought out backstory as well as a command of what is to come. But there are a lot of mistakes between present and past tense, phrases said in such a way that I felt like I was hearing someone speak the language who didn't always get exactly why all our weird rules work the way they do. And I'm gonna say right now I'm not trying to insult or flame you. I like this. I wouldn't bother to say a word if I didn't. It's simply something noticable enough and happens frequently enough, that it pulls me from the story and I am editing it in my head. I read you had a beta and I was wondering if your beta is also not an english as first language person. I think, with an extra set of eyes from an american or british or anyone who just knows the language without hesitancy, this story would go from fun read to damn good writing. If you haven't checked them out yet go to
no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 09:26 am (UTC)I'll think about finding a second beta, but i will never leave Sarah because what she cad do with my writting is mind boggling.
About the journal entries. I wasn't sure about them but well. I am not a man nor a father so it was kinda hard to write. And well, I do write fiction... if I will write more entries (which I probbaly wont, at least in this story) I will take it into account, try to make John more believable.
now to the nicer things:
I liked you liked it. The idea for the story came to me suddenly and first chapters were written two days later. I was in a hurry, always chasing my own idea before it escapes.
abut young Sam. I am glad I managed to convey his anger. In all the stories I read Dean is protective of Sam, and he is. but it's rarely explored that Sam might be as protective of his older brother. he has obsessive personality - you can't deny it. Add to it his being in love with his brother, father that he simply can't understand and won't accept. You get a heavy mix. I wanted to make Sam so much in love, almost obsessed with Dean because it was almost the only source of ANY affection throughout his childhood. Dean was everything to him, and somewhere while hitting puberty, with all those hormones raging around, when Sam started to understand what incest is, the anger came. I think he was as angry at John as he was at himself, but it was easier to blame John than himself, especially as a coping mechanism for what Sam saw as being inadequate, not what his father would want. There were huge amounts of anger, hurt and other feelings of this kind, but never real hate. His time away let Sam grow out of it. he still has issuses with John, but not like before.
I am planning on giving Dean some special abilities that will take him a few chapters to realise he had. I'm interested if anyone will notice the clues?
And there of course will be a John/possessed Sam scene, because John hasn't seen Sam yet in his new form.
I'm glad you like dthe spell part. I needed something that would push Dean, because I also don't think that it would be easy to jump in bed with a sibling. But of course I am planning on having Dean be with Sam after it all ends. I working under the assumption that once they became lovers (no matter the reason) they would never go back to simply being brothers again. Too many memories, too many things happened. Would it be a stretch if Dean decided to continue the relationship? after a lot of angsting, though.
sorry for possible mistakes here. It's not my internet connection that's keeping me from writting per se, but the fact that I am fresh out of hospital and feel ten kinds of miserable. It's really hard to write a sex scene when you only wish to curl up and die for a few hours :)
thanks for the comments and I would like it if you let me know later if you liked the next instalments or not? bye
no subject
Date: 2006-07-10 05:34 am (UTC)I read that you were in the hospital and what for and I wish you well and hope you get back to feeling one hundred percent. I know what it's like to hurt and go through long recovery periods so take your time and get better.
I didn't think you should get rid of your present beta, gosh I' sorry if that sounded like that, I just meant a second set of eyes to pick up on things. If I could make a suggestion. In dialogue, try not to have the characters saying things like : "I am sorry that you feel that way, but I will not give up on Sammy." It would come out like "I'm sorry you feel like that, but i won't give up on Sammy." That's kind of what I was hinting at. We're lazy people and we love to run our words together and the boys on the show do it like crazy, especially when their natural Texan accents start to slip out. Other than that, like I said, it was words here and there. No biggie and not gonna stop me from reading because I'm having way too much fun. Again, feel better, also more please.