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FIC: Weapon of Choice: Chapter 6
Title: 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.
Chapter 6
Three in the morning and sleep was still avoiding him.
Dean rarely had problems sleeping, his mind and body trained to fight understood the need for rest. It was usually so easy to shut down and fall into a dreamless sleep. But not lately.
Not since Sam was possessed.
Cursing, he rolled out of bed and stretched, trying to loosen the kinks in his back. He hated feeling this way, anxious, unsure and so damn helpless. He could stand almost anything. A beating, cutting, being burned or shot. But this... impotence, this inability to actually do anything to save his brother beside waiting was driving him fucking nuts.
After his little breakdown earlier, Dean was rather careful about the things he thought about. As long as he didn’t focus too much on what he had done and what he will be doing in some near future, everything was okay. He kept his cool.
And his dinner.
Bored, tired and filled with a kind of restless, humming energy he decided to take a shower. Nice, long hot one. Maybe it would put him to sleep? Because he so rarely had trouble sleeping, he didn’t really know what to do to relieve his sudden insomnia.
Stripping for the shower and watching the small, surprisingly tidy bathroom, Dean thought abut the way Sam had left him in that bar; the way his eyes had turned black and vacant for a moment. As if he wasn’t there. And, probably, he wasn’t. Whoever put so much effort and money to turn his Sammy into... whatever he was now, wouldn’t leave him alone. He would use his newly acquired weapon like any fighter would. Training with it, learning its strengths and weaknesses, checking just how much damage it could wreck.
It made him feel cold and sick, thinking that while he was tossing and turning trying desperately to sleep; Sam was out there killing some poor shmuck that had no idea what he was against. Dean didn’t expect to see his brother for some time.
Dean entered the shower and put his hands flat on the tiled wall, hanging his head low, letting the hot water sluice over his back and neck, as if washing away all his sins.
It felt like days, like a fucking eternity of just standing there and staring numbly at the water swirling down the drain between his feet. The mind numbing sight brought a kind of peace for him, freed him from thinking at least for a while, driving him into almost trance like state.
He was never quite sure just what it was that brought him out of it. Was it a sound? Or a smell? Probably neither. His whole life, he could always feel when his brother was near. It was almost like a sixth sense. But it was probably just his body's memory, awareness that was trained into them from all those years of hunting with their Dad.
His body tensed, but not in the way that indicated danger. It was only signalizing that there was somebody else close, somebody safe.
Dean snorted at that thought. Safe, yeah right. He thought about those guys gutted out in a matter of minutes after they tried to kill him, or the way he hung suspended from sheer fucking air with only his brother’s thought.
Safe, his ass.
Right now Sam could just as well gut him as fuck him.
Another part of him, though, kept insisting that if Sam was a danger to him, he wouldn’t be so careful with him. And Dean noticed it. He noticed how careful, how controlled Sam was with him. How he always kept his power and undeniable bloodlust in check when with him. And damn if it didn’t make Dean believe even harder, that he could, would, reach his brother. That under that whole power and aggression and blatant sexuality, there was still his Sammy. His baby brother.
He kept still, letting the water wash over him, his eyes glued to the floor as he heard the door to the bathroom creak open.
He knew those footsteps, knew the sound of those breaths.
He knew all things Sam, somewhere so deep, he would recognize him blind and deaf in a room full of people.
But it wasn’t his Sammy, it was the creature. With his eyes completely black and with terrifyingly beautiful, black lines on his face. He came in this form, because Dean told him that it would be all right. Strangely it was, because Dean hated the fact that hiding the black was causing his brother pain. Even if there was only a shadow of Sam left anymore.
He kept still through the rustle of clothes, the faint sounds of undressing. His breathing sped up, becoming harsher, more uneven as he felt the first tendrils of heat curling in his belly.
Shit, but that witch was powerful.
His cock was already half hard by the time he heard the other man pulling the shower curtain aside and step inside.
Dean couldn’t stop a small, shocked gasp and a shudder that wracked his body as he felt the taller, leaner and so much colder body press up against him, mold itself into his back. He couldn’t help the way his body twisted lightly, his legs spread that little bit to give Sam better access as he felt the long, strong arms encircle him. One hand press possessively at his chest, the other resting almost gently on his stomach.
“Dean,” the word was breathed hot and heavy into his ear, sending another shudder down his back as Sam shifted and pressed his already erect dick into the small of his back.
He opened his eyes, a moan escaping him as his dick hardened to it’s full glory, pulsing lightly in anticipation and need. He never wanted, needed anybody as much as he did Sam right at this moment.
His eyes still firmly fixed on the floor, he felt himself tense as what he was seeing finally registered in his brain.
The water swirling around his feet was pink with blood.
He knew, he could feel it in every cell of his body that it wasn’t Sam’s blood.
“Shhh...” he felt the lips so close to his ear, they brushed the ridge with a feather light touch. “Just let me take care of you.” It was Sam’s voice but not.
It was dark and heavy like molasses, thick and raspy and it did something to Dean, reduced him to a shivering, wanting desire.
He closed his eyes against the evidence of reality and let his brother turn him around with a gentle hand, yet strong enough to let him know who had the power here. Dean let himself be pulled even closer to that hard, taut body. Accepted the lips that pressed down on him. Hard and chafing, hot and passionate and he gave in. He gave into his body, into the desire curling low in his belly, into the familiar smell that filled his nose. Smoke, leather, blood but under it all simply Sam.
His flesh, his blood, his everything.
After a moment, maybe after an eternity he reached out with his hands, gripping his brothers shoulders to steady himself, as Sam pushed harder at him, making him loose his balance.
His hands slid over the slick, smooth skin onto the hard, beautifully developed chest. He heard a soft groan, almost felt it in his own mouth as Sam’s tongue kept tasting and searching his mouth. Seconds later, fingers of his right hand encountered a slight, too familiar irregularity in the otherwise smooth skin.
Dean’s eyes snapped open. He pushed Sam away, breaking the kiss and stared at the pale chest and three, parallel, jagged wounds that were all too familiar to him.
Bullet wounds.
None of them seemed to penetrate the body, each one only grazed the flesh, breaking and burning the skin and muscle underneath. They weren’t very long, each maybe six inches at the most. They weren’t deep enough to cause serious problems either. He breathed out at that, relieved, because he knew what would happen if the wounds were fatal. The demon would keep Sam’s body alive, but the moment they exorcised it, Sam would die.
The wounds bled lightly, the water flowing over them turned light pink in color. Sam didn’t seem to mind them at all, but Dean couldn’t stand the sight of them.
“You need to take care of it.” He said hoarsely, still very aware of his hard cock bobbing between his thighs. “they could get affected.”
His brother was still, the black eyes liquid and flat, revealing no emotions and the black lines made his face look even paler in the ugly, artificial lightning in the bathroom.
“Come on.” He tried to pull Sam from the shower, but his brother stayed still not fighting Dean but also not complying.
“Sam, this water is crap for open wounds. You need to get them dressed up properly.” Dean sighed, anxious to protect at least his brothers body. To make sure Sam could come back to them.
“There’s no need.” Sam finally said, reaching one of those freakishly long arms to curl around Dean’s neck and pull him forward until his face was just inches from the wounds.
“Lick it.” The command was soft, almost dream like but the hand curled around his head, the other resting almost gently on Dean’s hip made it clear that it was not a question.
The older Winchester realized, that in that seedy bar, on that green pool table, Sam asked for permission that Dean gave. There was no going back now, no changing his mind.
Dean shuddered, but it wasn’t revulsion. It was the onslaught of memories. He remembered, when Sam was still very little and almost innocent, how Dean used to kiss all the scrapes and cuts better, determined to be a mother, father and brother in one. Trying to give Sam a family he so desperately craved even back then. Possessed or not, it was still his brother’s body and he knew its smell, knew how the skin tasted... it was nothing new. So, he leaned down the final inches towards Sam’s pectoral and brushed his lips against the ragged edges of the first wound. Softly. Rumbling something deep in his throat because he remembered that Sammy used to giggle and relax at the low thrum Dean learned to do very early. Maybe it was the vibration, or something else, but it worked on Sammy like a charm. Dean hoped it still did.
He flicked his tongue over the wound, strangely willing to taste his brother again. It was so long since they were this close, he needed to do it. After a moment he realized the texture under his tongue had changed and he opened his eyes. He couldn’t help the gasp he made at the sight that greeted him.
The wounds were healing.
Just inches from his eyes, the skin and muscles knitted together, mended leaving only thin, pink lines that faded in a matter of seconds also, leaving nothing behind. Not even a scar.
Dean looked up, cursing the black eyes again. He couldn’t read Sam’s face with them; something so small, but it changed Sam’s expressions completely. Dean never realized just how much Sam conveyed with only his eyes. Still, Dean searched for any sign of emotion on the long, strangely pale face. Sam’s longish hair, now wet, seemed almost black, clinging to his head, dripping fat drops of water on his long nose.
He reached up, like always, cursing his brother’s height. It was just so unfair… He touched the sharp line of Sam’s cheekbone, letting his fingertips skim over the black line cutting through his cheek somehow surprised at the fact that it didn’t feel any different. Just smooth, wet, slightly cool skin.
The black eyes, so alien without the whites, shifted towards his face.
“What do you want?”
Not only Sam’s eyes were different. His voice had also changed. It was deep, dark and thick like molasses. It enveloped Dean in sensation, in scorching warmth that zigged through his nerves, pooling deep, deep down in his belly, making his cock heavy and hard.
“I want my brother back.” He was honest, because what he said didn’t really matter. Right now, the only thing that had any weight was what Sam wanted.
“I’m not your brother. Not any more.” It was said slowly, almost gently. As if he didn’t want to hurt Dean, if only with words.
Dean laid his hand over the long neck that just begged to be kissed and bitten until red, raised marks adored every inch of the smooth skin.
“Then why do you behave like him?”
Under the anger, the darkness, the sheer fucking power, there was still Sam. His little brother.
Not waiting for a response, Dean pulled the taller man closer into a kiss, not willing to listen to him any longer, nor look at his face. Something inside him shuddered in delight at the fact that Sam complied. Without hesitation, without resistance. It was a rush to keep this kind of power in his hands.
The kiss was slow and almost gentle, Sam letting him control it. Slowly exploring Sam’s mouth, enjoying the taste and wetness of his mouth, nibbling carefully with his teeth at the lower lip, Dean slid his finger carefully to the nape of Sam’s neck and let his fingers catch against the silver chain there.
The reaction was immediate. With a low growl, Sam pushed him back so violently, Dean slammed into the cold, tiled wall with an ‘omph’.
“Don’t,” the word was quiet but the meaning unmistakable. The bared teeth and sudden tension in the lean body spoke clearly to Dean. If he tried that stunt again then he would get seriously hurt. Dean didn’t answer verbally, trying to convey his apologies with his body. He knew, that if he spoke, Sam would hear the lie there.
This time it was Sam that moved. Quickly crossing the distance between them, one hand slapping onto the tile inches from Dean’s ear, the other closing over his bicep, keeping him in place as Sam leaned down. Trapping him between the smooth, tall body and cold wall, making Dean feel uncomfortably small with his brother towering over him so much.
Sam slammed their mouths together, hard and fast, teeth nipping, biting, dragging over the sensitive tissues, splitting lips, making Dean taste his own blood. His little brother kissed with his whole body, pressing his hips into Dean’s stomach dragging his hard cock over the muscles there, making Dean shudder in anticipation and arousal. It was the first time he got to actually feel his brother’s erection without the layers of clothes.
It seemed that Sam had exhausted his limit of patience. His movements became stronger, faster, his kiss almost vicious as his free hand pressed against Dean’s chest. Fingernails scraped four stinging lines straight to his right nipple, making Dean hiss and arch.
Not one to be left behind, Dean scratched at Sam’s back hard, his nails almost breaking the skin, enjoying the way muscles fluttered under the wet, slick skin. His brother made a low growling sound, broke the kiss then slid his wet, slightly cool lips over Dean’s jaw, the teeth scraping and then his lips closed over the straining tendon on Dean’s neck.
The older Winchester cursed as Sam bit him again, no doubt leaving a mark, and his wet hand closed over his straining dick. He threw his head back so forcefully it thumped, hitting the tile. He could come just from having his neck mauled and Sam stroking his erection just right, with enough force and with the right twist at the end, he was seeing the stars.
Whatever he expected, it wasn’t Sam suddenly falling to his knees in front of Dean. The water, cooler now, kept beating the steady thrum on their bodies and Sam tilted his head back, his eyes black, the thick lines still marring his face and looked at Dean. Those eyes weren’t flat anymore. They were burning, holding something, some fierce emotion behind the darkness and it took Dean’s breath away.
He watched, mesmerized into stillness as Sam, still gripping his member in one hand, opened his swollen and slightly puffy, from their earlier kisses, lips and slowly, ever so slowly, slid the hard member into his mouth, until the head was inside. The wetness, the heat, it was a thousand times better than being jerked of, and he barely resisted the urge to thrust.
His eyes still locked on Dean’s, Sam slowly slid all the way down, until the head hit the back of his throat and he swallowed taking it even deeper.
Jesus fucking Christ, Dean scrunched his eyes tightly closed, his hands going to the wet tresses of the kneeling man and gripping tightly, desperately needing something to ground him, to stay off the impending release. Sam swallowed again and Dean almost sobbed, feeling his throat muscles working around him. He wanted it to last longer, if just for a little bit. He was all for hard and fast, but this was fucking ridiculous. He felt like a teenager again, ready to shoot at a moments notice. And Oh My God, where did Sam learn to do things like that?
Panting hard and fast, he tried to control his body, tried to keep himself from coming as Sam started a hard, unrelenting bobbing rhythm, his tongue doing unbelievable things to his cock and Dean was just seconds from coming. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open as Sam pushed two wet fingers between his ass cheeks and into his hole. No warning, no preparation and it burned like hell, hurt even. Dean could feel his erection softening a bit with the shock and unexpectedness of Sam’s action. He wanted to say something, protest but before he had the chance to say a word, Sam found his prostate and rubbed.
Hard.
Dean actually screamed as he came, his balls drawing so close his body they felt like they tried to crawl right in. His dick jumped and pulsed, sending ropes of come into his brother’s mouth and Jesus Christ, he swallowed. The sensation of Sam’s throat working around his already softening, almost too sensitive cock was as much painful as pleasurable, drawing the orgasm out until Dean felt like he would just slide down the wall, his legs like wet noodles.
He hissed as Sam removed the fingers from his ass, not used to penetration and nearly whimpered as his little brother pulled his mouth away from his cock, giving the head a final, gentle lick as a farewell.
Not entirely in control of all his faculties, Dean watched lazily as Sam turned the water off and then pulled him out of the shower to stand in the middle of the tiny bathroom. There was something very comforting in watching Sam do those simple things, it made him forget even if for a moment that it was not his little brother. Not really.
Relaxed after his orgasm, he stood docile as Sam took one of the big towels and slowly dried him off. In careful, sensual movements he ran the towel over Dean’s head gathering the excess of water from the short hair. He dried his brother’s neck, letting his hands linger over the already raising bite marks there. Sam slid the towel over Dean’s chest, pressing the rough cloth stronger to the reddened nipples, making Dean hiss and rock back lightly.
With a tiny smile on his lips, Sam trailed the towel lower, over the hard belly and then circled the still too sensitive member with his toweled hand and stroked a few times, watching Dean intently.
The older Winchester had to bit his lip and reach a hand to the sink, gripping it tightly, steadying himself. It hurt, Sam’s hand on his recently spent cock. But it also felt fucking good. Dean always liked his kinks and rough sex was one of them. He learned long ago, that a little pain could sharpen the pleasure, make it that much sweeter.
Just before the pain became too much, Sam stopped moving lower. Kneeling to run the towel over Dean’s, now slightly shaky, legs.
The older Winchester was all too aware of the fact that Sam was still aroused, still hard. He had no doubts he was going to get fucked tonight. Literally.
“Turn around,” Sam requested in that low, rich voice that send shivers down his spine making his cock twitch but there was no way he could get hard this soon.
Without a word he turned, letting out an almost purr as he felt those strong, big hands with such elegant fingers caress his back, kneading lightly.
Sam spent so much time on Dean, that when he finally let the damp towel fall to the floor and pressed himself to Dean’s back, he was barely damp.
Feeling lazy and still strangely aroused, Dean pressed back, stretching his neck in a clear invitation. He reached over his shoulder to grab Sam by the back of his neck, still secretly thrilled that Sam allowed him, and pulled him into a kiss. Slow and lazy, he licked Sam’s lips before trying to push past them into the soft wetness behind.
The taller man plastered himself against Dean, pressing his heavy and hot erection into the small of his back, moving his hips in gentle, almost lazy thrusts, letting Dean control the kiss for now.
Dean gasped and broke the kiss when he felt Sam’s long fingered hand sliding between his ass cheeks and two fingers rubbing none too gently over his anus, already slightly sensitive from the rough fingering he received earlier.
“How far will you go?” Asked Sam, his voice still low and rich, like molasses, sliding over Dean’s nerve endings like liquid fire.
Dean looked up, into the cheap mirror above the sink that he was still gripping tightly with his left hand. Sam’s face was pale, paler than usual in the artificial light. Or maybe it was those black lines that changed his face so much. His eyes were no longer flat. They glittered with something hot and heavy, something dangerous and fierce directed only on Dean.
His hair was at that fuzzy, half dry half wet stage, falling over his face and into his eyes, but it did nothing to mask the blackness of his eyes. Dean was sure, he hated them with passion. It was the only thing that reminded him that it wasn’t his brother.
He locked his eyes with the black ones in the mirror, staring in them unflinchingly, sure in what he was doing.
“How far do you want to?”
Sam closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his nose into Dean’s already almost dry hair, inhaling deeply, his fingers still rubbing circles over Dean’s entrance, his other hand sneaking around the older Winchester in a hard, possessive hug.
“I want to see you, taste you, hear you, bury myself so deep inside you, you’ll never want anyone else,” Sam whispered darkly, his black eyes fierce as he looked into the mirror and bit Dean’s neck again, just under the ear, making sure to leave another mark.
TBC very, very soon I promise
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.
Chapter 6
Three in the morning and sleep was still avoiding him.
Dean rarely had problems sleeping, his mind and body trained to fight understood the need for rest. It was usually so easy to shut down and fall into a dreamless sleep. But not lately.
Not since Sam was possessed.
Cursing, he rolled out of bed and stretched, trying to loosen the kinks in his back. He hated feeling this way, anxious, unsure and so damn helpless. He could stand almost anything. A beating, cutting, being burned or shot. But this... impotence, this inability to actually do anything to save his brother beside waiting was driving him fucking nuts.
After his little breakdown earlier, Dean was rather careful about the things he thought about. As long as he didn’t focus too much on what he had done and what he will be doing in some near future, everything was okay. He kept his cool.
And his dinner.
Bored, tired and filled with a kind of restless, humming energy he decided to take a shower. Nice, long hot one. Maybe it would put him to sleep? Because he so rarely had trouble sleeping, he didn’t really know what to do to relieve his sudden insomnia.
Stripping for the shower and watching the small, surprisingly tidy bathroom, Dean thought abut the way Sam had left him in that bar; the way his eyes had turned black and vacant for a moment. As if he wasn’t there. And, probably, he wasn’t. Whoever put so much effort and money to turn his Sammy into... whatever he was now, wouldn’t leave him alone. He would use his newly acquired weapon like any fighter would. Training with it, learning its strengths and weaknesses, checking just how much damage it could wreck.
It made him feel cold and sick, thinking that while he was tossing and turning trying desperately to sleep; Sam was out there killing some poor shmuck that had no idea what he was against. Dean didn’t expect to see his brother for some time.
Dean entered the shower and put his hands flat on the tiled wall, hanging his head low, letting the hot water sluice over his back and neck, as if washing away all his sins.
It felt like days, like a fucking eternity of just standing there and staring numbly at the water swirling down the drain between his feet. The mind numbing sight brought a kind of peace for him, freed him from thinking at least for a while, driving him into almost trance like state.
He was never quite sure just what it was that brought him out of it. Was it a sound? Or a smell? Probably neither. His whole life, he could always feel when his brother was near. It was almost like a sixth sense. But it was probably just his body's memory, awareness that was trained into them from all those years of hunting with their Dad.
His body tensed, but not in the way that indicated danger. It was only signalizing that there was somebody else close, somebody safe.
Dean snorted at that thought. Safe, yeah right. He thought about those guys gutted out in a matter of minutes after they tried to kill him, or the way he hung suspended from sheer fucking air with only his brother’s thought.
Safe, his ass.
Right now Sam could just as well gut him as fuck him.
Another part of him, though, kept insisting that if Sam was a danger to him, he wouldn’t be so careful with him. And Dean noticed it. He noticed how careful, how controlled Sam was with him. How he always kept his power and undeniable bloodlust in check when with him. And damn if it didn’t make Dean believe even harder, that he could, would, reach his brother. That under that whole power and aggression and blatant sexuality, there was still his Sammy. His baby brother.
He kept still, letting the water wash over him, his eyes glued to the floor as he heard the door to the bathroom creak open.
He knew those footsteps, knew the sound of those breaths.
He knew all things Sam, somewhere so deep, he would recognize him blind and deaf in a room full of people.
But it wasn’t his Sammy, it was the creature. With his eyes completely black and with terrifyingly beautiful, black lines on his face. He came in this form, because Dean told him that it would be all right. Strangely it was, because Dean hated the fact that hiding the black was causing his brother pain. Even if there was only a shadow of Sam left anymore.
He kept still through the rustle of clothes, the faint sounds of undressing. His breathing sped up, becoming harsher, more uneven as he felt the first tendrils of heat curling in his belly.
Shit, but that witch was powerful.
His cock was already half hard by the time he heard the other man pulling the shower curtain aside and step inside.
Dean couldn’t stop a small, shocked gasp and a shudder that wracked his body as he felt the taller, leaner and so much colder body press up against him, mold itself into his back. He couldn’t help the way his body twisted lightly, his legs spread that little bit to give Sam better access as he felt the long, strong arms encircle him. One hand press possessively at his chest, the other resting almost gently on his stomach.
“Dean,” the word was breathed hot and heavy into his ear, sending another shudder down his back as Sam shifted and pressed his already erect dick into the small of his back.
He opened his eyes, a moan escaping him as his dick hardened to it’s full glory, pulsing lightly in anticipation and need. He never wanted, needed anybody as much as he did Sam right at this moment.
His eyes still firmly fixed on the floor, he felt himself tense as what he was seeing finally registered in his brain.
The water swirling around his feet was pink with blood.
He knew, he could feel it in every cell of his body that it wasn’t Sam’s blood.
“Shhh...” he felt the lips so close to his ear, they brushed the ridge with a feather light touch. “Just let me take care of you.” It was Sam’s voice but not.
It was dark and heavy like molasses, thick and raspy and it did something to Dean, reduced him to a shivering, wanting desire.
He closed his eyes against the evidence of reality and let his brother turn him around with a gentle hand, yet strong enough to let him know who had the power here. Dean let himself be pulled even closer to that hard, taut body. Accepted the lips that pressed down on him. Hard and chafing, hot and passionate and he gave in. He gave into his body, into the desire curling low in his belly, into the familiar smell that filled his nose. Smoke, leather, blood but under it all simply Sam.
His flesh, his blood, his everything.
After a moment, maybe after an eternity he reached out with his hands, gripping his brothers shoulders to steady himself, as Sam pushed harder at him, making him loose his balance.
His hands slid over the slick, smooth skin onto the hard, beautifully developed chest. He heard a soft groan, almost felt it in his own mouth as Sam’s tongue kept tasting and searching his mouth. Seconds later, fingers of his right hand encountered a slight, too familiar irregularity in the otherwise smooth skin.
Dean’s eyes snapped open. He pushed Sam away, breaking the kiss and stared at the pale chest and three, parallel, jagged wounds that were all too familiar to him.
Bullet wounds.
None of them seemed to penetrate the body, each one only grazed the flesh, breaking and burning the skin and muscle underneath. They weren’t very long, each maybe six inches at the most. They weren’t deep enough to cause serious problems either. He breathed out at that, relieved, because he knew what would happen if the wounds were fatal. The demon would keep Sam’s body alive, but the moment they exorcised it, Sam would die.
The wounds bled lightly, the water flowing over them turned light pink in color. Sam didn’t seem to mind them at all, but Dean couldn’t stand the sight of them.
“You need to take care of it.” He said hoarsely, still very aware of his hard cock bobbing between his thighs. “they could get affected.”
His brother was still, the black eyes liquid and flat, revealing no emotions and the black lines made his face look even paler in the ugly, artificial lightning in the bathroom.
“Come on.” He tried to pull Sam from the shower, but his brother stayed still not fighting Dean but also not complying.
“Sam, this water is crap for open wounds. You need to get them dressed up properly.” Dean sighed, anxious to protect at least his brothers body. To make sure Sam could come back to them.
“There’s no need.” Sam finally said, reaching one of those freakishly long arms to curl around Dean’s neck and pull him forward until his face was just inches from the wounds.
“Lick it.” The command was soft, almost dream like but the hand curled around his head, the other resting almost gently on Dean’s hip made it clear that it was not a question.
The older Winchester realized, that in that seedy bar, on that green pool table, Sam asked for permission that Dean gave. There was no going back now, no changing his mind.
Dean shuddered, but it wasn’t revulsion. It was the onslaught of memories. He remembered, when Sam was still very little and almost innocent, how Dean used to kiss all the scrapes and cuts better, determined to be a mother, father and brother in one. Trying to give Sam a family he so desperately craved even back then. Possessed or not, it was still his brother’s body and he knew its smell, knew how the skin tasted... it was nothing new. So, he leaned down the final inches towards Sam’s pectoral and brushed his lips against the ragged edges of the first wound. Softly. Rumbling something deep in his throat because he remembered that Sammy used to giggle and relax at the low thrum Dean learned to do very early. Maybe it was the vibration, or something else, but it worked on Sammy like a charm. Dean hoped it still did.
He flicked his tongue over the wound, strangely willing to taste his brother again. It was so long since they were this close, he needed to do it. After a moment he realized the texture under his tongue had changed and he opened his eyes. He couldn’t help the gasp he made at the sight that greeted him.
The wounds were healing.
Just inches from his eyes, the skin and muscles knitted together, mended leaving only thin, pink lines that faded in a matter of seconds also, leaving nothing behind. Not even a scar.
Dean looked up, cursing the black eyes again. He couldn’t read Sam’s face with them; something so small, but it changed Sam’s expressions completely. Dean never realized just how much Sam conveyed with only his eyes. Still, Dean searched for any sign of emotion on the long, strangely pale face. Sam’s longish hair, now wet, seemed almost black, clinging to his head, dripping fat drops of water on his long nose.
He reached up, like always, cursing his brother’s height. It was just so unfair… He touched the sharp line of Sam’s cheekbone, letting his fingertips skim over the black line cutting through his cheek somehow surprised at the fact that it didn’t feel any different. Just smooth, wet, slightly cool skin.
The black eyes, so alien without the whites, shifted towards his face.
“What do you want?”
Not only Sam’s eyes were different. His voice had also changed. It was deep, dark and thick like molasses. It enveloped Dean in sensation, in scorching warmth that zigged through his nerves, pooling deep, deep down in his belly, making his cock heavy and hard.
“I want my brother back.” He was honest, because what he said didn’t really matter. Right now, the only thing that had any weight was what Sam wanted.
“I’m not your brother. Not any more.” It was said slowly, almost gently. As if he didn’t want to hurt Dean, if only with words.
Dean laid his hand over the long neck that just begged to be kissed and bitten until red, raised marks adored every inch of the smooth skin.
“Then why do you behave like him?”
Under the anger, the darkness, the sheer fucking power, there was still Sam. His little brother.
Not waiting for a response, Dean pulled the taller man closer into a kiss, not willing to listen to him any longer, nor look at his face. Something inside him shuddered in delight at the fact that Sam complied. Without hesitation, without resistance. It was a rush to keep this kind of power in his hands.
The kiss was slow and almost gentle, Sam letting him control it. Slowly exploring Sam’s mouth, enjoying the taste and wetness of his mouth, nibbling carefully with his teeth at the lower lip, Dean slid his finger carefully to the nape of Sam’s neck and let his fingers catch against the silver chain there.
The reaction was immediate. With a low growl, Sam pushed him back so violently, Dean slammed into the cold, tiled wall with an ‘omph’.
“Don’t,” the word was quiet but the meaning unmistakable. The bared teeth and sudden tension in the lean body spoke clearly to Dean. If he tried that stunt again then he would get seriously hurt. Dean didn’t answer verbally, trying to convey his apologies with his body. He knew, that if he spoke, Sam would hear the lie there.
This time it was Sam that moved. Quickly crossing the distance between them, one hand slapping onto the tile inches from Dean’s ear, the other closing over his bicep, keeping him in place as Sam leaned down. Trapping him between the smooth, tall body and cold wall, making Dean feel uncomfortably small with his brother towering over him so much.
Sam slammed their mouths together, hard and fast, teeth nipping, biting, dragging over the sensitive tissues, splitting lips, making Dean taste his own blood. His little brother kissed with his whole body, pressing his hips into Dean’s stomach dragging his hard cock over the muscles there, making Dean shudder in anticipation and arousal. It was the first time he got to actually feel his brother’s erection without the layers of clothes.
It seemed that Sam had exhausted his limit of patience. His movements became stronger, faster, his kiss almost vicious as his free hand pressed against Dean’s chest. Fingernails scraped four stinging lines straight to his right nipple, making Dean hiss and arch.
Not one to be left behind, Dean scratched at Sam’s back hard, his nails almost breaking the skin, enjoying the way muscles fluttered under the wet, slick skin. His brother made a low growling sound, broke the kiss then slid his wet, slightly cool lips over Dean’s jaw, the teeth scraping and then his lips closed over the straining tendon on Dean’s neck.
The older Winchester cursed as Sam bit him again, no doubt leaving a mark, and his wet hand closed over his straining dick. He threw his head back so forcefully it thumped, hitting the tile. He could come just from having his neck mauled and Sam stroking his erection just right, with enough force and with the right twist at the end, he was seeing the stars.
Whatever he expected, it wasn’t Sam suddenly falling to his knees in front of Dean. The water, cooler now, kept beating the steady thrum on their bodies and Sam tilted his head back, his eyes black, the thick lines still marring his face and looked at Dean. Those eyes weren’t flat anymore. They were burning, holding something, some fierce emotion behind the darkness and it took Dean’s breath away.
He watched, mesmerized into stillness as Sam, still gripping his member in one hand, opened his swollen and slightly puffy, from their earlier kisses, lips and slowly, ever so slowly, slid the hard member into his mouth, until the head was inside. The wetness, the heat, it was a thousand times better than being jerked of, and he barely resisted the urge to thrust.
His eyes still locked on Dean’s, Sam slowly slid all the way down, until the head hit the back of his throat and he swallowed taking it even deeper.
Jesus fucking Christ, Dean scrunched his eyes tightly closed, his hands going to the wet tresses of the kneeling man and gripping tightly, desperately needing something to ground him, to stay off the impending release. Sam swallowed again and Dean almost sobbed, feeling his throat muscles working around him. He wanted it to last longer, if just for a little bit. He was all for hard and fast, but this was fucking ridiculous. He felt like a teenager again, ready to shoot at a moments notice. And Oh My God, where did Sam learn to do things like that?
Panting hard and fast, he tried to control his body, tried to keep himself from coming as Sam started a hard, unrelenting bobbing rhythm, his tongue doing unbelievable things to his cock and Dean was just seconds from coming. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open as Sam pushed two wet fingers between his ass cheeks and into his hole. No warning, no preparation and it burned like hell, hurt even. Dean could feel his erection softening a bit with the shock and unexpectedness of Sam’s action. He wanted to say something, protest but before he had the chance to say a word, Sam found his prostate and rubbed.
Hard.
Dean actually screamed as he came, his balls drawing so close his body they felt like they tried to crawl right in. His dick jumped and pulsed, sending ropes of come into his brother’s mouth and Jesus Christ, he swallowed. The sensation of Sam’s throat working around his already softening, almost too sensitive cock was as much painful as pleasurable, drawing the orgasm out until Dean felt like he would just slide down the wall, his legs like wet noodles.
He hissed as Sam removed the fingers from his ass, not used to penetration and nearly whimpered as his little brother pulled his mouth away from his cock, giving the head a final, gentle lick as a farewell.
Not entirely in control of all his faculties, Dean watched lazily as Sam turned the water off and then pulled him out of the shower to stand in the middle of the tiny bathroom. There was something very comforting in watching Sam do those simple things, it made him forget even if for a moment that it was not his little brother. Not really.
Relaxed after his orgasm, he stood docile as Sam took one of the big towels and slowly dried him off. In careful, sensual movements he ran the towel over Dean’s head gathering the excess of water from the short hair. He dried his brother’s neck, letting his hands linger over the already raising bite marks there. Sam slid the towel over Dean’s chest, pressing the rough cloth stronger to the reddened nipples, making Dean hiss and rock back lightly.
With a tiny smile on his lips, Sam trailed the towel lower, over the hard belly and then circled the still too sensitive member with his toweled hand and stroked a few times, watching Dean intently.
The older Winchester had to bit his lip and reach a hand to the sink, gripping it tightly, steadying himself. It hurt, Sam’s hand on his recently spent cock. But it also felt fucking good. Dean always liked his kinks and rough sex was one of them. He learned long ago, that a little pain could sharpen the pleasure, make it that much sweeter.
Just before the pain became too much, Sam stopped moving lower. Kneeling to run the towel over Dean’s, now slightly shaky, legs.
The older Winchester was all too aware of the fact that Sam was still aroused, still hard. He had no doubts he was going to get fucked tonight. Literally.
“Turn around,” Sam requested in that low, rich voice that send shivers down his spine making his cock twitch but there was no way he could get hard this soon.
Without a word he turned, letting out an almost purr as he felt those strong, big hands with such elegant fingers caress his back, kneading lightly.
Sam spent so much time on Dean, that when he finally let the damp towel fall to the floor and pressed himself to Dean’s back, he was barely damp.
Feeling lazy and still strangely aroused, Dean pressed back, stretching his neck in a clear invitation. He reached over his shoulder to grab Sam by the back of his neck, still secretly thrilled that Sam allowed him, and pulled him into a kiss. Slow and lazy, he licked Sam’s lips before trying to push past them into the soft wetness behind.
The taller man plastered himself against Dean, pressing his heavy and hot erection into the small of his back, moving his hips in gentle, almost lazy thrusts, letting Dean control the kiss for now.
Dean gasped and broke the kiss when he felt Sam’s long fingered hand sliding between his ass cheeks and two fingers rubbing none too gently over his anus, already slightly sensitive from the rough fingering he received earlier.
“How far will you go?” Asked Sam, his voice still low and rich, like molasses, sliding over Dean’s nerve endings like liquid fire.
Dean looked up, into the cheap mirror above the sink that he was still gripping tightly with his left hand. Sam’s face was pale, paler than usual in the artificial light. Or maybe it was those black lines that changed his face so much. His eyes were no longer flat. They glittered with something hot and heavy, something dangerous and fierce directed only on Dean.
His hair was at that fuzzy, half dry half wet stage, falling over his face and into his eyes, but it did nothing to mask the blackness of his eyes. Dean was sure, he hated them with passion. It was the only thing that reminded him that it wasn’t his brother.
He locked his eyes with the black ones in the mirror, staring in them unflinchingly, sure in what he was doing.
“How far do you want to?”
Sam closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his nose into Dean’s already almost dry hair, inhaling deeply, his fingers still rubbing circles over Dean’s entrance, his other hand sneaking around the older Winchester in a hard, possessive hug.
“I want to see you, taste you, hear you, bury myself so deep inside you, you’ll never want anyone else,” Sam whispered darkly, his black eyes fierce as he looked into the mirror and bit Dean’s neck again, just under the ear, making sure to leave another mark.
TBC very, very soon I promise