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justinedelargeAuthor:
justinedelargeFandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Word Count:5,000
Summary: Sex, food and feels.
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I do own what I do own, such as my original characters and my plot.
Dean lay flat on his back, his heavy breathing starting to slow, sweat-slick skin cooling. Sam pulled off and collapsed at Dean’s side, panting.
“Lucky,” Dean croaked.
“Who me? Yeah.” Sam curled into Dean’s side. “Yeah, I am.”
Dean gave Sam a sidelong glance. “Me, silly.” He kissed Sam’s forehead. “I’m lucky.”
Sam inched closer, and picked up the amulet, toying with it idly. “That was alright, then?”
“That? Sam, that was fucking epic. You.” Dean booped Sam on the nose. “Are fucking epic.”
Sam snorted like Dean was being ridiculous, but batted his eyelashes under the praise. He rested his head on Dean’s chest and put the amulet in his mouth.
“Doesn’t that taste nasty?” Dean played with Sam’s hair.
Sam shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
Sam wrapped his top arm around Dean’s ribs and pulled himself closer. “Mine,” he murmured with the amulet in his mouth.
Dean nestled into Sam’s arms. “Dude. My initials are carved into you, right above your ju—your dick.”
“Why didn’t you say junk?”
Dean cupped Sam’s cock and balls in his hand and cradled them. “Because this ain’t junk.”
Sam laughed.
“This? Right here? This is like…the crown jewels.”
Sam laughed harder, a full body laugh, the amulet falling out of his open mouth, his eyes squeezing shut.
“Anyway. Point is, I marked you as mine. And you marked me as yours.”
Sam stuck his tongue out, like his brain was only now catching up to the fact that brass, in fact, tastes nasty. “Yeah, but unless we’re going on a hunt in a nudist colony—“
“Do they still have nudist colonies? Do those even exist?” Dean interrupted.
“Unless we’re at a nude beach, or a nudist colony, or someplace people run around without pants on and don’t get arrested… no one can see it.”
“But you know. Right, Sammy?” Dean tipped Sam’s face up so he could read his emotions on his face.
Sam seemed momentarily unable to talk.
“What?”
“I love your eyes.”
Dean’s mouth curled up at the corner, and he lowered his lashes, blinking slowly, and opened them just as slowly, his pretty green eyes locked on Sam’s.
Sam’s mouth fell open.
“You were saying?”
Sam blinked rapidly.
“Nude people. People being nude?” Dean poked Sam on the chest. “Nudists.”
Sam just kept staring into Dean’s eyes, not speaking.
Dean closed his eyes and held them shut. “Can you think now?”
Sam poked Dean in the ribs. “Smartass.”
“Nude people, Sammy. Come on.”
“Unless we’re naked, no one can see that you’re marked, Dean. Was my point.” Sam nipped at Dean’s jaw. “Open your eyes.”
“Nope. You’ll lose the power of speech again.”
“Dean.”
“I mean, I know my eyes are my best feature. Except for my—“
“Junk?”
“Sam. I’m hurt.” Dean’s eyes flew open.
Sam laughed, and scooted down. He placed a big, wet smack on Dean’s soft cock. “Crown jewels.” He peered up at Dean, his hair falling into his eyes. “Not junk.” He made a face, sticking out his tongue. “You’re right. Brass doesn’t taste good.”
Dean crossed his arms behind his head. “You want something better in your mouth? Already?”
Sam nodded, and kissed Dean’s belly. “Oh yeah.”
“Whattaya got in mind?” Dean gave a wicked grin.
Sam breathed out over Dean’s soft cock, warm and soft, and looked up at Dean, batting his eyelashes, his hazel eyes soft and wide, pink lips parted. “Burgers.”
Dean groaned. “I fucking love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone in the history of people being loved.”
Sam sat up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Come on. I’ll make you dinner.”
Dean sat up and shook his head. “I got this one.”
Sam stood up and stretched. “Nope. It’s still your birthday. Far as I’m concerned.” He reached down for a hand towel and cleaned himself off between his legs, then tugged the dress off over his head.
“What, you’re not gonna cook for me in a dress?”
Sam turned to face Dean, completely naked. “Nope. I’m gonna cook for you in sweats and a t-shirt.”
Dean reached out and traced his finger over his initials on Sam’s lower abdomen. “Not naked?”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to stand in front of a pan full of spattering grease, bare-ass naked?”
Dean jumped to his feet and wrapped Sam in a bear hug. “No.”
Sam laughed, face squished into Dean’s shoulder. Dean didn’t laugh, didn’t release him, just hugged him even tighter.
“Dean?”
“Don’t want you to get hurt.” Dean put his hand on the back of Sam’s head.
Sam breathed in and out, felt the ferocity of Dean Winchester protecting him, the heat and single-minded purpose of his love surrounding him like a force field.
“I’ll put your mark on me wherever you want it, Sammy. Shit, I’ll tattoo it on my neck. Property of Sam Winchester.”
Sam grinned. “You would.”
Dean released him and kissed his forehead. “I totally would.” His eyes were dead serious.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’ll marry you.”
Sam kissed Dean on the lips. “I know.” He got a clean pair of sweatpants from the dresser and pulled them on.
“Tomorrow. Right now.” Dean put his underwear and jeans back on.
“Too soon.”
Dean reached out for Sam and pulled him close, one hand playing with his hair, the other holding his jaw between thumb and forefinger. “Marry me.”
Sam’s breath caught in his throat. “I will. We will.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“Not ‘till I’m 18.”
Dean’s mouth twitched. “None of those laws apply to us. Besides, we can’t even legally—“
“Because 18 matters, Dean. It matters to me.”
Dean blinked rapidly, as if some hidden message in Sam’s words had wounded him. “Right. Ok.” He stepped back.
Sam felt it, more than he puzzled it out with his brain. The fear rising in Dean like poison gas. Sam wants to be sure it’s not a mistake.
“Hey.” Sam took Dean’s hand, pressed it over his heart. “I don’t need to wait to make sure it’s not a mistake.” Dean’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in surprise that Sam had read him so perfectly. “You’re it for me. Forever. This world, and the next. Ok?”
Dean clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw popping.
“I want to wait until I’m 18 because I don’t want to be the only kid in my senior class with a husband.”
Dean burst out laughing, his fear and tension dissipating. “Fair enough.”
Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and buried his face in Dean’s chest. “And because …” He paused. “So much has happened. I just need a little time between major life changes, ok?”
“Shh. It’s ok, Sammy. I get it.”
They finished getting dressed. Sam went into the kitchen and pulled out a large mixing bowl from a lower cabinet. Dean turned off the camcorder and brought it into the living room, setting it down on the coffee table with a pat like it was a fat little puppy, then fiddled with the radio until he found a good classic rock station. A female voice, low and silky smooth, purred from the speakers. “You’re listening to KXGL, the Eagle, Amarillo’s classic rock station.”
Dean spun around, mouth open. “Dude. She sounds like Boobs Barbeau. From the Fog!”
“Adrienne, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes.
“Boobs is her official nickname. It’s ok to use it,” Dean protested.
“You were just listening to Cream, with the classic, Sunshine of Your Love, off their album, Disraeli Gears. That album was their breakthrough record here in the good old US of A, back in 1968. And before that, I gave you a little Kansas. You all know the name of that song, don’t you? Alright now, don’t go anywhere, because I’m about to pour you a triple shot of Led Zeppelin. Starting that off right now with a little tune called Ramble On.”
Dean raised his right hand and clenched it into a fist of triumph. “Yes.”
Sam took out the package of ground beef and cracked the foam tray flipping it into the bowl for mixing with spices. Dean slipped in next to him, smoothly pulling out the pickle jar, and snatching up a red onion and tomato from the counter.
Sam frowned. “I want to cook for you.”
Dean nudged him with his hip. “I want to cook with you.”
With grace of motion, they moved around the tiny kitchen, getting the next tool, the next ingredients, working together as a team seamlessly, never getting in each other’s way, always anticipating the other’s movements. Sam looked around for the garlic powder, only to find Dean’s hand right there, holding it out to him. Dean sliced the onion into paper-thin rounds, and deftly cut two knobby green pickles into long oblongs.
Sam dug his hands into the ground beef, mixing the salt and spices in by hand. Dean came up behind him, lips brushing the back of his neck. The radio began playing Misty Mountain Hop, and Dean swayed his hips in time to the music.
“Mmm.” Sam kept at his task, squishing the meat between his fingers.
Dean dug his fingers into Sam’s ribs, tickling him.
“Hey!” Sam raised his hands to push Dean away, and stopped at the sight of his fingers covered in raw meat.
“What are you gonna do, Sammy?” Dean pinned Sam against the counter with his hips and brought his fingers up into Sam’s armpits.
Sam emitted a high-pitched squeal and immediately turned bright red in embarrassment, squirming to free himself from Dean’s onslaught if only to prevent him from making any more childish sounds.“Dean. Stop.” Sam protested breathlessly.
“I love it when you squirm.” Dean prodded his fingers into Sam’s soft flesh, making him laugh and wriggle even harder. He brought his mouth to Sam’s neck, bit down, making Sam gasp and arch back into him, hands held up before him helplessly. Dean made a wordless sound of pleasure.
Sam spun to face Dean, eyes bright, cheeks pink from laughing, holding his hands up in front of Dean’s face with as much menace as he could muster. “Careful. I could…meat you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Dean pushed his hips forward, bumping Sam playfully. “Hold still,” he whispered. He was half-hard and getting harder, and Sam could feel it.
He could feel it quite clearly. His mouth parted. He held still.
Dean brought his mouth almost to Sam’s lips, held himself there, just a fraction of an inch from making contact, green eyes staring at Sam’s pink mouth. “Don’t move.” He brought his hands up, stroked Sam’s sides, tickled him lightly, eyes locked on Sam’s face. His eyes. His mouth.
Sam convulsed in laughter, gasping, squirming to get free.
“Let me,” Dean whispered.
“I can’t…Dean.. I can’t help it.”
“Remind me to tie you down later and tickle the hell out of you.”
Sam’s eyes fluttered shut. When he opened them a moment later, the pupils were dark and wide, full of promise. He bumped Dean with his hips, pushing him back a step, and turned back to the bowl of ground beef. “Don’t you want to eat?”
“Is that a yes?” Dean moved next to Sam in front of the cutting board and began slicing the tomato.
Sam shot Dean a sidelong look. “Don’t you get it?”
Dean frowned.
Sam looked Dean from head to toe and back again, not touching him but Dean could feel every second of it. “I’ll let you do anything you want.”
Dean stopped, knife in mid-slice, slapped his palms on the counter, and leaned over, taking a deep breath.
“You alright?” Sam formed the first hamburger patty.
“Can you die from this?”
“Raw meat? Yes.”
“Not raw meat.”
Sam grinned, plopping the patty on a plate. “Sex?”
Dean turned his head. His green eyes swam with tears. “From being so happy.”
Sam dropped the handful of ground beef into the bowl and ducked his head under Dean’s arm, bringing him upright. Hands held out stiff behind Dean, he brushed his nose against Dean’s cheek, then brushed his lips over Dean’s mouth, whisper-soft. Dean kissed him slow and sweet, thumbs rubbing Sam’s jaw, a single, perfect tear running down his cheek.
They finished making dinner together. Dean put the frozen French fries into the oven. They ate burgers and fries, and drank two beers each out of the the six-pack of beer Sam had put in the cart along with the other things he had Reggie pay for with cash from his wallet.
Sam couldn’t keep his eyes off Dean as he drank, tipping the beer bottle into his mouth, those perfect pink lips wrapped around the tip.
Dean raised his eyebrows. “See something you like, Sammy?”
“You’re so cheesy. Why are you so cheesy?”
Dean shrugged. “Part of my boyish charm.”
Sam dipped a French fry into ketchup and ate it. “Yes. I see something I like.” He kept his eyes on the plate, sucking the ketchup off his index finger. When he looked up, Dean was staring at him.
Sam burst out laughing.
“What?”
“How are we ever going to get anything done, Dean?”
Dean made a wobbly little circle with his head, like he was confused.
“How am I going to graduate from high school? How am I going to study? How are we going to do anything else, except…”
“Fuck each other stupid?”
Sam pushed his empty plate away. “No matter how many times we fuck, you’ll never be stupid.”
Dean’s mouth opened and closed, with no sound coming out.
“Maybe that’s why soulmates being together is so rare. Because we can’t get anything done.”
Dean kept staring at Sam, the compliment about his intelligence still rattling around in his head. To deflect his discomfort at being unable to accept it gracefully (Your brother’s the smart one. You’re the soldier.), he changed the subject. “So, that’s what you want to do? Finish school?” He picked up their plates and ran water over them in the sink.
Sam took a deep breath. “Yeah. While there’s a break in the action. I’ve never been strong and brave like you and—“
“Like hell,” Dean interrupted.
Sam took a different approach. “It’s not what I’m best at. Where I think I can really make the most difference in this fight.” Dean leaned against the refrigerator, watched Sam with complete focus, and listened. “I can figure things out. I need to figure out a lot of stuff. There are still gonna be wendigos and vampires and god knows what else out there to fight, but the big bad? He’s dead. We bought ourselves some time.” Sam rose to his feet. “Time to be normal, Dean. Live normal.”
Dean let Sam’s words take root in his mind, and thought about him. Sam waited, letting him think. “You think we can have that?”
“Gus said the demons had gone to ground. Laying low until some new boss comes up.” Sam’s face was eager. “I think we have some time. For me to finish high school, maybe go to college. For us to learn how to cure other demons.”
“Ok.”
“You’re ok with that. You don’t want to just jump into the next fight. The next hunt.”
Dean came to Sam. “I’m more than ok with it. I just never thought…”
“We’d get to have that.”
“Yeah.”
“Guess we got lucky.”
Dean pushed the hair out of Sam’s face. “Where do you want to do that?”
Sam set his empty beer down on the table with a thunk. “What?”
“Finish high school. I mean hell, you’ve been to five different schools in the past two years. Where do you want to finish up? That last one?” Dean took a breath. “Here?”
Sam closed his eyes, and dropped his head.
“Sam?”
“I don’t know.” He opened his eyes. “I want to go home with Bobby. I do. But…”
“You want to stay here too.”
Sam nodded, hazel eyes sad. “Here, we got to be us. For the first time. And we have our own place. Nothing reminding us of...” Sam stopped himself from finishing the sentence.
Dean winced. John Winchester’s presence was all over Bobby Singer’s house. Memories of Bobby digging buckshot out of John’s leg; John and Bobby using the cherry picker to drop a new engine in the Impala. And then there were all the memories imbued with John because of his absence. Sam and Dean dropped off at Bobby’s doorstep with a duffel bag each and a hug; Bobby playing ball with them at the park downtown; Sam and Dean falling asleep in front of the fire, waiting for a father who never showed, up, waking to spy Bobby dressed in a Santa suit dropping oranges and walnuts into their stockings.
Dean pulled the last two beers out of the refrigerator. “We don’t have to decide now. Beer?” He held out the bottle to Sam. “Movie?”
Sam accepted the beer. “Sure. What do you want to…” He fell silent.
His face turned bright red.
“Sammy. Come on.” Dean nudged him. “That’s what you bought it for. Right?”
“Yeah. That’s what I bought it for.” Sam allowed himself to be lead to the couch, and drank half his beer with one long swallow. “I might need whiskey for this.”
“I happen to have a really nice bottle right here, what I got for my birthday.” Dean grinned.
“Dean.”
Dean got the bottle from the cabinet, and one glass, setting them down in front of Sam on the coffee table with a muted thud. He peered into Sam’s face. “You don’t want to watch, we don’t watch. Simple.”
“I want to watch. I just…”
Dean sloshed whiskey into his glass.
“I’m shy,” Sam reminded Dean.
“You start off shy,” Dean corrected, pointing his index finger at Sam.
“Well, I’m gonna start off really shy, Ok? Like, chick at a horror movie, hiding my face in your shoulder.” Sam grimaced. “Watching through my fingers.”
“That’s fucking adorable.”
“Seriously.”
“Sam. Seriously. You’re…you have no idea how awesome you are when you… ok. Drink your shot. You’re gonna watch this. I’m gonna show you how awesome you are.”
Sam downed his shot, and accepted another. He stared at the carpet.
“What?” Dean asked.
“What if I look stupid? Or scrawny? Or if I have… ass pimples?” Sam looked up, a stricken expression on his face.
Dean roared with laughter.
“That’s not helping.”
Dean regained his composure. “First off, you won’t. You’re beautiful. Every little bit of you is beautiful and perfect. Second, um, dude, you’re not scrawny. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
Sam blinked rapidly, his stricken expression shifting to one of surprise, and Dean realized that Sam actually hadn’t noticed.
“Third, you don’t have ass pimples, and I know, because I was just all over that thing.”
Sam snorted, Dean’s levity and reassurance easing his fear.
“And four, if you did look stupid or scrawny or had ass pimples, none of that would matter a damn bit.” Dean put his hand on Sam’s knee. “Or if I look stupid or fat or whatever. Because what we do together—you and me together—is perfect. Ok? It’s perfect and amazing and not one couple in the history of ever has had what we have.” He leaned closer. “Sam. You and me? It’s...” Dean searched his arsenal of words, a vast repository of language most people—other than Sam—would have never suspected lay behind his mask of masculinity and braggadocio. He filtered through all the possible words until he found the one he was looking for. “It’s sacred.”
Sam inhaled sharply, Dean nailing the truth of it, how he felt about them, dead center. He nodded, eyes the color of sunflowers, green and gold. “Ok. Play it.”
Dean turned off the radio, popped the tape out of the camcorder and slid it into the VCR. He turned off the lights, so they could see the screen better.
“Oh god.”
Dean sat on the couch with his back against the arm, like Sam had sat with him the night before, and held Sam in his arms. “’S ok, Sammy. You’re gonna love it.”
The screen showed the carpet on the bedroom floor, jerked and shifted as Dean raised the camera and focused it on Sam. Sam in his little black dress.
“Dean.” Sam trembled slightly.
“You’re a bad-ass motherfucker, and you’re beautiful, and you’re mine. This is you, showing me you’re mine,” Dean whispered in his ear. “That’s your gift to me. What you gave me.”
Sam shifted, arching his back to nuzzle his head into Dean’s shoulder, grateful for the comforting words.
“And I love it. Look.” Dean pointed at the screen. “Look at you.”
Sam blushed at the sight of himself. “Shh. Just watch,” he heard himself say, saw himself bending over the bed, hiking up his skirt, rolling his hips.
Saw his long, toned legs, his calf muscles flexing as he rose up on his toes, saw his ass wrapped in pink satin. Saw himself turn, spread his legs, flip the skirt up and show off his satin-clad cock, straining at the fabric. Dean’s voice said, “Baby boy. Your panties are all wet.” Sam shivered. Dean’s lips were warm on his neck, whispering, “You liked it. When I said that.”
Saw himself pull his legs back and show himself to Dean shamelessly, so wanton, so slutty, Dean’s voice saying “So fucking hot…”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Dean, I don’t know…”
“You’re so beautiful. Sammy. Look.”
At Dean’s urging, Sam opened his eyes. Watched himself. Not just his hand touching himself, penetrating himself, as Dean watched. He watched his face, the expressions as he looked at Dean, showed himself to Dean.
Touched himself for Dean.
He saw the hunger on his face, the desire, but more, far more than everything, he saw the love on his face, radiating from every pore. The same love he saw on Dean’s face whenever he looked at Sam.
That hunger, that heat moving through him, urging him to bare himself to Dean completely, show him everything, wasn’t wanton. It wasn’t slutty.
It was pure.
Sam expected playing back the tape would inspire them to have frenetic, kinky sex on the living room floor, Dean fucking him from behind, saying, “Watch how good you take my cock” with Sam whimpering and crying out beneath him, cock dripping pre-come on the carpet until Dean jerked him off hard and fast. And that would happen, but not this first time.
Sam watched himself open himself to Dean without any hesitation, come for him without any shame. Because there was no shame in it. Dean was pure light, pure heat, and Sam simply opened to him, no more shameful than a flower opening to the sun.
He watched Dean marvel at him, stroking his smooth skin, and saw how beautiful his cock was, praised by Dean’s fingers, worshipped by his green eyes. He watched Dean overcome in seconds by Sam, the tight curve of his ass flexing as he thrust against Sam only twice before he came that first time.
He watched Dean’s eyes close in pleasure as he opened Sam to him in the most intimate of ways, seeing for the first time, up close, the profound pleasure he took in licking Sam open, putting his tongue inside him, loving even that part of him.
Sam trembled at the sight.
Dean stroked his arms, his chest, murmured how good it felt to do that to him, how soft he was, how much he loved that, how beautiful Sam was.
And Sam bore witness to it, seeing Dean’s green eyes beneath his fluttering eyelashes, blissing out as he lapped at Sam’s hole, hands holding him open. He saw the bliss on his own face, heard it in his cries of ecstasy. Recognized it as true ecstasy, not merely keen pleasure, but the trance state of mystical exaltation.
Dean wordlessly asked if he could undress Sam, tugging up on his shirt first, then at the elastic of his waistband. Sam arched his back, saying yes with his body, yes with his mouth, yes. Sam shifted so Dean could remove his own clothes, settling behind him on the couch, bare skin against bare skin, his hands ghosting over Sam’s flesh, playing his body like an instrument.
He saw himself sink down on Dean, taking his cock inside, his head thrown back in rapture. Saw the beauty of his body, for the first time, saw his lips as red and full, his arms strong and well-shaped, the muscles of his abdomen bunching and relaxing, saw the muscles of his thighs, lean and lovely, flex and play. He saw his cock straining into the air right above Dean’s cock stretching him open, compared them, saw that his was every bit as thick and long and perfectly shaped as Dean’s, had the same beautiful skin and thick ridge down the center that Dean had, that he had worshipped with caresses of his fingers, wordless hymns of praise sung to Dean through his wet mouth and pliant tongue. He saw that he, too, was beautiful.
He saw himself surround Dean, take him into his body, giving himself to Dean as an offering. Saw Dean take him, become one with him, saw the two moving as one being, such intense pleasure at being joined that it could not be sustained, had to be released. Gasped as he saw the light rising from both of them at the same time, light spiking out from the crown, third eye, throat, heart solar plexus, lower abdomen, between the legs.
Dean gasped too.
“You see that?” Sam whispered.
“You see that?” Dean whispered back.
“Dean.” Sam turned to face Dean, his hands shaking. Shifted him so he sat upright on the couch, his back against the cushion. Sam pressed his trembling hands to Dean’s face, stroked it, as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune. He climbed into Dean’s lap, brought his mouth to Dean’s, and breathed in as Dean exhaled. Exhaled as Dean inhaled.
Dean shivered, his nerves awakening more than he had ever felt before.
Sam lowered himself, without foreplay or prep, positioning Dean’s cock at his entrance.
“Sam?” Dean stroked Sam’s neck, reading his face.
“I’m still ready. From before.” Sam was still well lubricated from their activity an hour previously. He sank down on Dean’s cock, opening to him, accepting him without hesitation, tight but not resistant. Sank down slowly, until he had taken him all the way in.
Sam stopped moving. He put his hands on Dean’s shoulders, and simply looked him in the eyes.
Dean shivered, rotated his hips, seeking sensation.
Sam brought his mouth to Dean’s, kissed him slow and sweet, then kept his lips barely touching Dean’s, and breathed in as Dean breathed out, drawing his breath inside. Exhaled as Dean inhaled, so Dean inhaled his breath.
Dean’s shiver rose from someplace deep within him.
Sam pulled his mouth back a bit so he could look Dean in the eyes. He kept up the breathing pattern, and held himself still. He simply held Dean inside his body, his belly warm and soft against Dean’s cock, gazing into Dean’s eyes.
Dean started to shake.
Sam stroked his hair. “It’s ok. Dean. It’s ok.”
Dean stilled himself, and just let himself be with Sam, look into his eyes.
Their bodies twitched simultaneously, like the first tentative wave of an earthquake.
Dean didn’t know where Sam was going with this, but he gave himself over to the ride, trusting Sam completely.
Sam didn’t consciously know where he was going either. But he trusted his instincts. And his instincts told him to hold Dean within him, to make eye contact, to breathe.
Sam’s eyes fluttered, cock twitching against their bellies.
“Sam,” Dean whispered. The connection between them was palpable, like a ball of energy between them, a thousand strands of light linking them.
Sam shivered, unable to hold still any longer. He rotated his hips in a circle, eliciting a groan from Dean. The groan turned to a growl. Dean lifted Sam easily, set him down on his back on the couch, still joined, sprawled lengthwise. Dean claimed Sam’s mouth, fucked him with short little strokes, keeping his belly against Sam’s cock.
Sam cried out into Dean’s mouth, grabbed his calves and pulled his legs back. “More,” he groaned.
Dean lengthened his strokes. “You like it deep?”
“Yes.” Sam cried out again as Dean gave him what he needed, pushing his legs back even farther so he could bury himself even deeper inside Sam.
Sam gripped his cock with both hands and worked himself, driving a groan out of Dean. “Not gonna last, Sammy.”
In response, Sam’s hips bucked, squirming beneath Dean, jacking his cock with his right hand and tugging on his balls with the other.
Dean lost the capacity to say, think, or know any word other than Sam. And he babbled, in his single-word language, varied only by inflection. “Sam… Sam…Sam…”
Sam’s linguistic field was reduced to only one word as well—he could think the word “Dean” but he could not utter it, only sounds. Long moans deepening into groans, rising up into sharp cries building to a crescendo.
Dean recalled three words that he knew would drive Sam to a higher plane. Three simple words. “Come for me.”
Sam obeyed, beautifully, clenching around Dean’s cock, head thrashing on the couch, cords of his neck straining, spasming beneath Dean as he came all over himself, spattering against Dean’s jaw, a few drops landing in Dean’s open mouth.
Dean shook like a house about to collapse. Sam quickly dragged his fingers through the come on his chest and thrust them into Dean’s mouth. Dean sucked on Sam’s fingers, fucking him hard and deep, cock pulsing as he came inside Sam, came sucking the taste of Sam off his fingers, came thrashing and gripping Sam’s hair, shouting his name.
~
Down the hall, Bobby groaned and squeezed the pillow even tighter around his head. “They don’t make ear plugs big enough for this.”
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no subject
Date: 2014-10-13 06:19 pm (UTC)Also, I can't wait for them to actually get married - I'm an incurable romantic sap and that always pushes my buttons. :)
Thank you for this lovely piece! Your writing always makes me so happy. ♥
no subject
Date: 2014-10-14 03:52 am (UTC)Thank you for this Sam and Dean and this relationship given to us in your beautiful language.
<3 <3 <3
no subject
Date: 2014-10-14 05:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-14 06:28 am (UTC)Dean's bit about loving Sam more than anyone in the history of loving and the boys cooking together and talking about future plans and watching the tape back, them seeing that light. I adore this chapter so much.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-14 05:01 pm (UTC)I have the ending outlined, but I have NO idea how many chapters it will take. I just put placeholders up to 100 on my LJ master post as a time-saver when updating it with links.
I've already added two more placeholders, because there's no way I can write out what remains in my outline with just two. So take heart!
And thank you. That's such a nice thing to hear. And I'm so happy you loved this chapter, and that you highlighted that bit that Dean said, and everything else you singled out.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-14 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-14 10:01 am (UTC)I love this so much, how you've been focusing so much on how pure and good and not dirty everything they do is. I love how etherial and other-worldly their love making is. They reach a new plane and it's amazing to be able to view the journey so vividly.
Thanks so much for this!
Thank you!
Date: 2014-10-14 05:09 pm (UTC)