Style, Part 7.
Author: Zoicyte aka Johnnyjosh
Beta: BehrBeMine, Atana Blackfox, Reiver Vicious
Spoilers: Season 2, slight for season 3
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or its characters, and am making no money from this.
Warnings and Notes: Yaoi, lemon, lime, language. OOC, TWT, AU, General Weirdness.
This was just a little something that tickled my funny bone after watching a rerun of ‘Tall Tales’.
Author notes: Yes, I’m aware in some circles there’s controversy over whether Sam’s eyes are green or brown. I write them brown, so you’ll know better whom I’m talking about when say…brown or green eyes widen, okay?
Additional Note: Until further notice, I will be ignoring any and all canon from season three save for the occasional reference which actually proves useful. Don’t bug me about it, I’m not too happy with what Kripke’s doing so far, if you can’t handle that, too bad for you.
Summary: Time’s almost up, and Dean’s deal comes due. But it seems that sometimes the right words spoken at the right time can mean more than you ever thought possible.
“ ” Speaking
* * Thoughts
~~oOo~~ Change of scene or POV
Sam moved over to the window and watched her leave, looking down and turning away as she seemed to fade into the trees. “Well, that’s that, I guess,” he muttered, shaking his head and trying to dispel that annoying feeling of hope that simply wouldn’t leave him. He really didn’t think anything he’d said or done had made a difference; the trickster was not going to help any more than it already had. With an annoyed sigh he pushed aside his lingering thoughts of the trickster, moving back to the living room to put away his computer, and hide the preparations he’d made for tonight.
Meanwhile, in the bedroom, a soft groan sounded, tousled, light brown hair disappearing beneath the satin bedspread as Dean tried to hold on to the last vestiges of sleep. He soon gave that up when the tantalizing smells of food and freshly brewed coffee wafted into the room, forcing him to poke his head back out, fingers curled in the blankets before he yawned and began to stretch his limbs. “Mm, Sammy made breakfast,” he murmured, arms stretched up over his head. The sheets slid down to pool at his waist, tenting where they rested against his morning hard-on and drawing a low groan from Dean. He closed his eyes, and was immediately assailed by vivid memories of last night’s activities, another soft sound escaping him, before he smiled ruefully. “I’ll never get you calmed down if I keep thinkin’ about that,” he laughed softly, flinging off the sheets and getting up.
Dean walked over to the corner and snatched up the jeans he’d been wearing yesterday, sliding them on and doing them up. He didn’t bother with a belt, socks or a t-shirt, simply letting the loose denim ride low on his hips as he padded out of the room.
Sam looked up as the bedroom door opened, mouth going dry when Dean walked out, looking exactly as the trickster had appeared to him earlier. He was silent for a moment, uncertain whether it was actually his brother approaching him, or just another illusion. His eyes unconsciously roamed the other man’s body, from Dean’s messy hair down over his toned chest and abdomen, pausing to take in the way the jeans hugged his brother’s hips, before traveling down to Dean’s bare feet.
Dean smirked as he moved closer to Sam, mistaking Sam’s silence for something else as he watched his brother’s expression, noting the way the younger man’s gaze traveled the length of his body. “Like what you see?” he asked, leaning over while his arms stretched out, hands coming to rest on the back of the couch on either side of Sam’s head.
Sam nodded with a smile, relieved when he realized this was, indeed, his brother and not the trickster trying to mess with his head again. “Yeah, I do actually,” he murmured, then shivered when Dean nipped lightly at his lower lip.
His hands reached out and settled on Dean’s hips, as the younger man debated telling his brother about the trickster’s visit. He knew Dean’s first reaction would likely be to get the hell out of here once he was reminded of who was providing this pleasant little getaway spot, and Sam really didn’t want that. He wanted this last day with his brother, alone, no hunting, no hours of driving in a cramped car, arguing about music, eating bad-tasting, greasy food and going nowhere, because they really had no destination at this point. There was nowhere to run from the demon.
“Well, that’s good,” Dean chuckled, ruffling his brother’s hair gently as he straightened and arched his back, stretching. “We can get to your little…promise later.” He eyed Sam as he spoke; enjoying the way the younger man blushed when reminded of their arrangement made in the heat of passion the night before. “Right now I’m gonna get cleaned up, then have something to eat. That stuff smells great.”
Sam rose to his feet, smiling faintly. “Yeah, there’s a pretty good spread waiting out there for us.” He draped an arm over Dean’s bare shoulders, fingers stroking the skin of the other man’s upper arm gently. “I’ll get the coffee,” he murmured, arm sliding almost reluctantly off Dean before he started toward the kitchen.
Dean watched his brother leave the room, green eyes narrowed slightly. He knew something was bothering Sam, but he put it down to the same thing that had him on edge. Time was running out. Sam hadn’t said anything either way about a solution, but he knew the younger man must have been working on something while he was still asleep. Dean’s gaze shifted to the coffee table, where he noted Sam’s computer, and their bags had been brought in as well. Their father’s journal lay beside the computer, a hastily written note in Sam’s handwriting sticking out at the top.
He was tempted to check out what Sam was working on, but he pushed the urge aside, deciding to let Sam reveal his ideas in his own time. “He’ll tell me when he’s got it figured out,” he muttered, eyes closed, one hand raised to run through his hair roughly. With a sigh he moved over to the bags, grabbing his shaving kit. Dean then turned and walked into the bathroom, intending to take care of his morning needs, and clean up before breakfast.
The first thing Dean noticed upon entering the room was the smell. It was pleasant, not flowery, but not too musky either. He looked around the room, trying to spot the source, and a wide grin settled on his lips when he found it. “Hm, you weren’t kidding about the tub, were you, Sammy?” he laughed softly, sitting on the edge of it and dipping his hand in, letting it sink past the mounds of bubbles floating on the surface. With a wince he pulled it back, finding the water extremely warm. “Well, that should still be good and hot after we eat,” Dean chuckled, getting up and moving back over to the sink.
Out in the kitchen, Sam rummaged around in the cupboards, finally finding the mugs and a sugar bowl. He poured a cup of coffee for Dean and himself, smirking as the faint sound of Dean’s electric razor was heard from the bathroom. “Someone’s in a hurry this morning,” Sam murmured, getting the coffee cream from the fridge and setting it on the table. “I guess filling the tub up first was a good idea.”
His expression turned pensive as Sam felt a brief flash of guilt for keeping the trickster’s second visit a secret. He knew he should tell his brother, but, to be honest with himself, he saw no point in doing so. Dean would be too suspicious and paranoid to enjoy another day spent here. The older man would probably assume the trickster was watching their every move, and not want to so much as to talk to Sam until they were clear of the cabin.
There was another reason he wasn’t telling Dean, and that was the fact that Sam had all but begged the creature for help. He feared that at best, Dean would be angry at him for trying to bargain with it, at worst, his brother would berate him for trusting it as much as he had, and even entertaining the thought that the trickster would help them in any way. Sam himself still couldn’t fathom why part of him wanted to keep holding on to that futile hope that the trickster might do something to get Dean out of the deal. He didn’t even understand why he trusted it, other than the fact that he knew if they weren’t trying to hurt it, it wouldn’t try to hurt them. It was just like the last trickster they’d met in that respect, for the other one had merely played a few annoying tricks on them, until they’d actually confronted it, then things had gotten serious.
Sam pulled ketchup and pancake syrup from the fridge, then set them on the table as well while he continued to muse. Suddenly his hand gave a slight jerk, the ketchup bottle falling onto its side. Sam’s eyes widened, and he stared out the kitchen window, face paling as all the pieces he’d been mulling over started falling into place. He’d been thinking about the letter the trickster had left Dean, and the way it had vanished before Sam could read it. Dean never had shared its contents with him; they’d gotten too caught up in other things for Sam to bother asking about it last night. Then there was Dean’s intense anger during the argument. He remembered thinking it strange that Dean had referred to the trickster as ‘he’, when Sam thought the trickster had only revealed itself to him. The more he thought about things, and compared the similarities, the more certain Sam was that this wasn’t a new trickster. It was the same one they thought they’d killed before.
He turned narrowed brown eyes toward the bathroom, wondering silently just when Dean had become aware of that fact. If he’d put it together before, or after he’d read the letter. He knew the letter must have contained some reference to the fact, and frankly, it confused him why the trickster would reveal itself to Dean, and lead him to believe it was a different one altogether. The part of him that was a hunter screamed it was just another part of its trick. It was counting on them to keep something back from each other, resulting in a loss of trust, a wedge being driven between them once again.
“Just like last time,” Sam murmured. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the noises from the bathroom had stopped.
Dean smirked, moving quietly into the kitchen. He snuck up behind his brother, relishing in the startled gasp pulled from Sam when his hands slid over the younger man’s sides. “What’s just like last time?” he asked, fingertips skimming over Sam’s abdomen. “Wow, you really went all out on breakfast, didn’t you?” He asked, then gave a low whistle as he eyed the table laden with food.
Sam turned around in Dean’s arms and gazed at the older man, head tilted, a troubled expression on his face as he flashed back to their supposedly final battle with the trickster.
~ “Dean… Dean, Dean, Dean,” the trickster said, getting to his feet slowly, an almost resigned expression on his face. “I did not wanna have to do this.” His expression changed to stunned surprise, choked sounds escaping him when Dean drove the stake into his chest.
“Me neither,” Dean rasped, knuckles white as his hand gripped the stake tightly. The two of them stared at each other for several moments, Dean wearing an expression that looked rather like regret, before he pulled the stake out, the trickster falling back, sprawling as he slumped down into one of the seats. ~
“Sammy?” Dean frowned, hands moving up to his younger brother’s shoulders, gripping him gently. “What’s wrong?” He stared up at Sam, lips parting, brows drawn together as Sam sighed quietly. “Talk to me.”
“Dean,” Sam closed his eyes, a wry smile on his lips. He shook his head, then tried again. “Dean, how long have you known we were dealing with the same trickster, the one we thought we’d killed at that college?”
Dean’s face went slack with shock for a moment, before he recovered, green eyes darting to one side while he licked his lips. He didn’t think Sam had put it together yet, but obviously something had happened that made it all click. He should have known if anyone could put together all the haphazard pieces of the puzzle, it would be Sam. Dean resisted the urge to smile as he realized he should have also counted on Sam’s odd sense of timing to put it all together now, of all times.
“Dean?” Sam’s hands were on his biceps now, like the younger man was about to shake an answer out of him. “How long?”
“I’ve known since last night,” he admitted quietly, deciding there should be no more secrets. He told Sam how he’d recognized the style as soon as they’d ventured into the bedroom, how that had made everything come together for him. Dean described the cop, admitting he had brushed off a moment’s faint recognition because he believed they’d killed the trickster before. Last, but not least, he told his brother the contents of the letter.
“I should have told you, I know,” he said, still looking away from Sam. “But then we were fighting. I was pissed off at you about not telling me the trickster had been here, because I couldn’t figure out why you’d trust him after everything we’ve seen him do.” Dean scowled, shaking his head. “Then I realized you were calling it a her, and you sounded like you’d been dealing with a completely different person. I didn’t get it, couldn’t understand what kinda game it was playin’.”
“You were waiting to tell me, until you could figure it out,” Sam said, the words more a statement than a question, one hand cupping the back of Dean’s neck.
“No, it wasn’t that. I just didn’t see a point in sayin’ anything,” Dean finally met Sam’s eyes then, a heavy sigh escaping him. “I figured your decision to leave it alone might not be such a bad idea. I mean let’s face it, Sam. We already tried to kill this thing once, and we failed. We wouldn’t have a clue how to deal with it, and I didn’t want to spend our last twenty four hours together hunting it, more than likely getting us both killed in the process.”
Sam stared at his brother a moment, surprised by Dean’s admission, and a little shocked by their similar trains of thought. Then he nodded, hands stroking down Dean’s arms lightly. “You knew,” he whispered, gaze dropping from his brother’s face, down to the marks he’d left on Dean’s neck and shoulders last night. “But you agreed to stay here anyway.”
Dean shrugged, letting the other man pull him closer, hands splayed over Sam’s waist. “Not like we had anywhere else we could go, right? It wouldn’t do any good tryin’ to run from her. Besides, this place is a damn sight better than most of the rooms we’ve been getting. I figured it wasn’t a bad place to spend my last day.” Despite his efforts, his voice cracked on the last two words, but he covered it with a teasing smile as he tilted his head up to look at his brother. “The company isn’t too bad, either.”
Sam couldn’t help but laugh at Dean’s joke, leaning his head forward so their foreheads touched. He wrapped an arm around the other man’s shoulders, holding him tightly. “I’m still working on things, don’t think I’ve given up on you yet,” Sam murmured, before he pressed a kiss to the older man’s temple.
“Yeah, I noticed you brought the laptop in, figured you’d been working on something,” Dean nodded, trailing a hand down Sam’s hip before letting go of his brother and reaching for a chair. “You can tell me all about it after breakfast.” He pulled out the other chair for the younger man, then held up a finger at Sam’s grin. “Don’t get any ideas, I’m not going all chick-flick romantic lead here.”
Sam snickered at the comment, then sat down, laying an arm across the back of Dean’s chair. “Actually,” he said, smile fading as he looked over at his brother. “I’ve got something else I need to tell you all about.” He launched into a recap of the trickster’s earlier visit, this time leaving nothing out.
As Sam spoke, Dean’s muscles tensed, body nearly vibrating with frustrated anger. “Sam, you tried to bargain with this thing?” he asked incredulously, staring down at the table with narrowed eyes. “What the hell were you thinkin’?”
“Well, I figured that despite everything it had done, it couldn’t be any worse than the crossroads demon, at least it wouldn’t take my soul, right?” Sam sighed, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. He glared at Dean defensively, then snatched up his plate and started loading it up with food, filling his brother’s afterward, simply to keep his hands busy.
“We don’t know that!” Dean snapped, watching his brother intently. “Sam we’ve never run into anything like it, before or since. We have no idea what this thing’s really capable of.”
“No, we don’t,” Sam snapped back. “We don’t know anything about it, other than the fact when we first ran into it, it said it liked us, especially you. Even today it was impressed with you when I told it about you trapping the crossroads demon. I think…it sees you as some sort of kindred spirit, with your sense of humor, and knack for tricking immortal creatures.”
“So, you thought because it liked the fact that I get its twisted sense of humor, and I’ve tricked an evil creature a time or two, that you could con it into helping me out of the deal?” he asked, dropping his head into his hands and taking a deep breath, trying to push down his anger. He knew his brother was just reaching out in desperation, doing anything he could to try and help him.
“Well, the thought had crossed my mind,” Sam admitted, leaning forward, arms resting on the table. He looked down as well, expression somewhat pained. “It seemed worth a shot, I mean, it’s a demi-god, it’s got to be comparable to, if not stronger in some ways, than a demon.”
“Sam…” Dean lifted his head, meeting Sam’s eyes with a tired expression. “I know you were trying to find another way out for me. But if it means you have to make a deal with a different kind of devil, it’s not worth it.”
“Dean, it is to me, I can’t-” Sam protested, but fell silent when Dean held up his hand.
“Sammy, I didn’t bring you back so we could start playin’ some trading game, dealing our souls back and forth for each other,” Dean said quietly, his hand moving to rest on the younger man’s shoulder. He slid his hand further up, fingers wrapping around the back of Sam’s neck as he pulled his brother closer. “No deals for me, got it?” he murmured, resting his forehead against the younger man’s, fingers stroking the back of Sam’s neck.
Sam swallowed hard, then nodded, leaning closer and putting his hands on Dean’s bare shoulders, squeezing gently. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue,” he whispered, uttering the words he’d been trying to convince himself of all morning. “It said it couldn’t help.”
“Yeah well, even if it did agree to help, I wouldn’t put much stock in it,” Dean said snidely with a small shake of his head. “That thing’s business is chaos, tricks, putting people in their place, not helping people.” He looked around the kitchen then, seeming a bit ill at ease. “You don’t think it’s hangin’ around watching us, do you?” Dean suddenly blushed faintly, slanting a look at Sam. “It wasn’t here last night I hope…”
“No, it wasn’t,” Sam laughed softly, shaking his head and draping an arm around his brother. “It said that it’d given us some privacy last night, so it wasn’t even sure we’d stayed here. It came by this morning to see if we had. Then it said it would leave us alone for today, too.”
Dean looked uncertain for a moment, then nodded, picking up his fork and knife, cutting up one of the pancakes on his plate. “Good,” he said quietly, slowly starting to relax. *I’ve got plans for today that I’d rather not have an audience for,* he thought with a smirk, casting a surreptitious look at his brother before he started to eat.
Sam took a sip of his coffee, missing the look, but he caught the last trace of that smirk on Dean’s lips, wondering what was going through his brother’s mind. He breathed a faint sigh of relief, as the other man finally seemed to relax, enjoying his breakfast silently, prompting Sam to do the same.
They finished the meal in a companionable silence, and once both men were done, Sam rose to his feet, stacking the dishes and carrying them to the sink. He knew he didn’t really have to clean up this place, for it was all probably just a creation of the trickster and would disappear once the day was over, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave things a mess.
Dean got up as well, grabbing their mugs over and pouring each of them a fresh cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar before he handed a mug to Sam. Once Sam took it and nodded his thanks, Dean turned and strode away silently, leaving the room.
Sam tilted his head and watched his brother curiously, then shrugged and walked over to the table. He grabbed the ketchup and coffee cream, moving over to the fridge and putting them back inside.
Suddenly he gasped, one hand clutching the handle of the fridge door, the other one shooting out to grasp the counter. A shiver ran through his long frame as something cold and wet pooled between his shoulder blades, then started to ooze down his back.
“What the hell?” he cried, trying to straighten up, only to be halted by two strong hands on his hips, a solid body pressing up against him from behind. “Dean?” Sam closed his eyes, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip when he felt a hot tongue lapping up what he realized now was pancake syrup poured onto his skin. He heard a low chuckle behind him, then Sam moaned loudly when one of Dean’s hands slid over his chest, pinching and stroking his nipples, while the other moved down, cupping his groin. “God…” he rasped, cheeks turning pink as his head dropped down.
Dean grinned at the other man’s reactions, enjoying the way Sam was starting to squirm and press back against him. He kept massaging the other man’s length gently through the fabric of his jeans, the other hand reaching out and pushing the fridge door shut. Once it was closed he rocked his hips forward, grinding his own hardened length against Sam’s rear, before he moved both hands to Sam’s waist.
Sam’s eyes opened, and he felt himself being guided forward. He gasped, inhaling sharply when his bare chest and abdomen pressed against the cool surface of the refrigerator. “Dean,” he whispered, the blush on his cheeks deepening. “I ran water in the tub for us…” His words trailed off into a soft moan as Dean’s mouth moved lower, following the trail of the syrup still trying to make its way down his back.
“I know,” Dean murmured, then smirked while he made quick work of undoing Sam’s jeans, shoving them and the boxers Sam wore down over the younger man’s slender hips. “I just thought we should take the time to get dirty first. Now turn around,” he ordered, voice rough. He took a step back, waiting for Sam to comply, one hand reaching out for something on the counter.
Sam turned around quickly, and the fridge rattled behind him as Dean’s hand settled on his chest, pushing the younger man firmly against it. He had time to register three things; the evil gleam in Dean’s narrowed green eyes, the honey the other man was holding in one hand, and the feel of fingertips tracing down the length of his cock.
“You might wanna hold onto something, Sammy,” Dean smirked up at him, setting the honey aside before all but dropping to his knees in front of the younger man. Full lips parted, a soft moan sounding before Dean leaned forward, taking the tip of Sam’s arousal into his mouth. His tongue traced over the head lightly, lapping at the honey he’d trailed over the turgid length before Dean’s lips slid down, taking in as much as he was able, then sucking hard while he drew back again.
“Dean!” Sam cried out hoarsely, head jerking back, hands shooting up to cling to the edges of the door behind him. He closed his eyes tightly, cheeks darkened, hips rocking slightly. A whimper escaped him as strong hands gripped his hips, stopping their movement.
Dean would have smirked if he could have, instead settling for stroking Sam’s sides as he moved his head, lips sliding up and down Sam’s length in a slow, teasing rhythm. One hand moved down a few moments later, nails raking lightly over the younger man’s hip, before Dean roughly shoved Sam’s jeans the rest of the way down.
Sam gasped, writhing against the fridge, his head rocking side to side as he arched his back. “Dean, please,” he groaned, somehow finding the presence of mind to toe off his shoes and step out of his jeans as they pooled around his ankles. He tried again to buck his hips, his hands dropping down off the top of the fridge door. One settled on Dean’s shoulder, while the other brushed over his brother’s hair gently, before Sam gripped at the short strands, tugging lightly.
Dean closed his eyes, relishing the way his brother arched and writhed beneath his touch. His jeans felt a size too tight, each moan and gasp from Sam sending a little bolt of pleasure straight to his groin, making Dean moan as he himself started to squirm. He tilted his head slightly and sucked harder, one hand gripping Sam’s thigh, fingers digging into the pale skin as Dean’s other hand reached down, undoing his own jeans. He wrapped his fingers around his cock, stroking himself in time to the rhythm of Sam’s panting, which sounded almost too loud in the small kitchen.
Sam lifted his head, hearing the rasp of a zipper. He forced his eyes open, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip as he glanced down. He groaned at the sight of Dean’s hand sliding up and down his own length, and a sharp spike of arousal coursed through him, leaving Sam teetering on the brink of release. “Dean, I…I can’t,” he stammered, trying to stave off his climax. His fingers tightened in the other man’s hair, trying to pull Dean away.
Dean allowed his head to tilt back, releasing Sam’s length with a soft sound. Green eyes narrowed, he looked up at his younger brother, a low growl sounding in his throat. “Oh yeah, you can, and you will,” he said quietly, one hand wrapping around the base of Sam’s cock, the other stroking and cupping Sam’s balls gently. “You said today you were mine, anytime, anywhere, any way.” He gave the other man’s length a gentle squeeze, then chuckled, letting his warm breath wash over Sam’s arousal, drawing a shiver from the younger man. “Now come for me, Sammy,” Dean murmured.
Sam gasped and tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back a hoarse shout when Dean’s lips slid nearly to the base of his length. His hips bucked once, twice, then Sam was shuddering, crying out in pleasure as his hands gripped at Dean’s shoulders.
Dean’s fingers dug into Sam’s hip, trying to hold the younger man still. He managed to swallow most of the other man’s seed, only a small amount escaping to trail down from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, looking up at Sam with a smirk, watching as his brother tried to hold himself up on shaky legs. “Yeah, that’s just how I want you today,” Dean said, slowly getting up, arms wrapping around Sam’s waist. He leaned forward, their bodies pressed together, rocking against the other man lightly.
Sam swallowed hard, still panting softly, head tilted back and resting on the fridge door. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, fingers tracing over the smooth skin of the other man’s back. He smiled faintly at his brother’s words, slowly opening his eyes and lifting his head. “I don’t know if I should be afraid or excited by that,” he laughed, tilting his head and kissing Dean softly.
“Probably a little of both,” Dean grinned, before nipping gently at Sam’s lower lip. He pulled away and reached out, taking Sam’s hands in his own. “Now,” he murmured, giving the younger man a smoldering look, “how about we give that bathtub a try?” He took a step back, attempting to lead Sam into the bathroom.
Sam smirked, narrowing his eyes before he took a large step forward, crowding the other man as he jerked his hands free, settling them on Dean’s waist. “Just one thing, first,” he said, taking another step and forcing his brother back toward the kitchen table.
“Sam?” Dean looked up at his brother, eyebrows raised. He allowed himself to be guided back, then gasped when Sam suddenly lifted him up and set him on the edge of the table, jerking his jeans further down his hips. He was slowly forced down onto his back, Sam’s large hands curling around the backs of his thighs, guiding Dean’s legs over his shoulders and holding them there. “Wait, what are you-”
Sam cut him off with an intense look, a wicked smile on his lips. “You know the old saying, no good deed goes unpunished,” he murmured, then laughed softly.
Dean made to reply, but his words trailed off on a moan as Sam settled into a chair, the younger man leaning forward and taking Dean’s cock into his mouth. “Sam!” He gasped, then groaned, voice breaking as he arched his neck, hands splayed on the table above his head.
Sam continued to pleasure his brother, enjoying the feel of Dean arching and shivering beneath his touch, knowing the other man wouldn’t last much longer. He was torn for a moment, between pushing his brother over the edge, or teasing him just a little more. Drawing things out won, and Sam released Dean’s length, one hand dropping from the older man’s thigh so he could wrap his hand around the hardened shaft, stroking slowly. He then tilted his head and leaned down, lips and tongue teasing the other man’s balls, making Dean tremble and moan softly.
“Sammy,” Dean rasped, voice hoarse as his hands moved down, seeking something to hold onto. His fingers curled around the edges of the table, knuckles turning white, tendons standing out on the back of his hands. He panted harshly, lifting his head and looking down the length of his body, watching his brother with hooded eyes. “Come on, please?” He whispered, a fine tremor running through his frame.
Sam looked up, meeting his brother’s pleading look, then he nodded and parted his lips, caressing the head of Dean’s arousal with the tip of his tongue, before sucking lightly on it. He let out a low moan, then hummed around Dean’s length, sucking hard as his head dipped down, lips sliding nearly to the base of Dean’s cock.
That was all it took to push the other man over the edge, Sam nearly choking when his brother shuddered, Dean’s hips bucking as he climaxed with a guttural cry. Sam gripped the other man’s thighs, keeping his brother’s legs from slipping off his shoulders, managing to swallow all of the other man’s seed. He pulled his head back, cheeks darkened, a smile on his lips as Sam looked up at Dean.
After several moments of silence, Dean managed to lift one arm, flinging it over his eyes as he panted, heart still racing. “I was intending to take care of that in the bathroom,” he murmured between deep breaths, chest still rising and falling quickly. A faint smile settled on his lips as he felt Sam’s hands stroking his abdomen. He opened his eyes in surprise a moment later when he felt his jeans being slid down off his legs, lifting his head and watching as Sam draped them over the back of a chair.
“Yeah, well,” Sam chuckled, kissing his way from Dean’s stomach to his collarbone, “I just thought I should return the favor, so we were even when we got there.” He pressed a soft kiss to the other man’s lips, arms sliding around Dean. He lifted his brother slightly, then settled back into the chair, pulling the older man into his lap. “Besides, I figured you’d last longer the second time around. Wouldn’t want any questions about your staying power today,” he grinned, reminding Dean of comments made the previous evening.
Dean leaned his forehead against Sam’s, arms draped over the other man’s shoulders as he closed his eyes, laughing quietly. “Don’t you worry about that,” he murmured, opening his eyes and nipping down the line of Sam’s jaw. “I expect to have you begging for mercy before lunchtime.” He reached out as he spoke, fingers dipping into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out the small tube he’d retrieved from the bedroom earlier.
Sam snickered and pulled back slightly, giving his brother a disbelieving look. “Glad you think so,” He laughed, then eyed the lube. “Glad you thought ahead, too,” Sam chuckled, then wrapped both arms around Dean’s waist before he stood up, holding his brother tightly.
Green eyes widened, Dean’s arms tightening around Sam’s shoulders while his legs wrapped themselves around the younger man’s waist. After a moment he smirked up at Sam, realizing the suggestiveness of their position. “Don’t think you’re gonna get the chance to turn things around, no matter how…tempting this is,” he said, eyebrows raised as he looked down to where their bodies pressed together.
“Well,” Sam grinned unabashedly, kissing Dean’s temple as he turned around slowly and started toward the bathroom. “You have to admit, this has potential.” He paused just outside the door, taking a moment to press Dean against the wall, pinning him there with his own weight. “I’m not trying to turn anything around. I just think you’d enjoy this a lot,” he whispered, lips just a fraction of an inch from Dean’s ear as one hand caressed the outside of the older man’s thigh. “After all, the agreement was any way, anywhere, anytime, right?” Sam nipped gently on Dean’s earlobe, tugging lightly at the soft skin.
Dean smirked, eyes sliding closed as he tilted his head back slightly, legs tightening around Sam’s waist. “I think you may be onto somethin’ here,” he murmured, tilting his head and capturing the younger man’s lips in a heated kiss. “But first…”
Sam nodded and backed away from the wall, arms around Dean’s waist once more as he strode into the bathroom, gazing at the tub, then his brother with hooded eyes. “Okay, this is your show,” he whispered, keeping one arm around Dean as the older man’s legs slid from around his waist.
Dean chuckled and grasped Sam’s wrist gently, before he stepped into the tub, then gave a light tug on the younger man’s arm. “I’ll give you a show later, or I’ll make you give me one,” he raised his eyebrows and smirked at Sam, then licked his lips. “Now get in here already.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Sam said quietly, stepping into the water before he wrapped both arms around Dean, holding him close and leaning down for a kiss.
Dean smiled against Sam’s lips, one hand moving up to brush through the younger man’s wavy hair. “Hold on there, Casanova,” he chuckled, placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders and urging him to turn around. “Get in the water, I want to take this slow,” he whispered, nipping and kissing his way across Sam’s shoulders and back.
Sam closed his eyes and shivered at Dean’s ministrations, nodding as he slowly knelt down, hissing at the feel of the hot water. He sat down, tilting his head back when Dean’s fingertips slid up to stroke the sides of his throat. “Closer,” Sam said quietly, voice thick. He felt the water rippling, feeling Dean brush against him as the older man sat down behind him.
Dean smiled, pressing up against Sam’s back, legs brushing along Sam’s while his fingers gently brushed over his brother’s face, sweeping along Sam’s brow, then down over his cheeks. He lazily explored the smooth skin with his fingertips, running down the line of Sam’s nose, before Dean brushed his thumb over the younger man’s soft, full lips. He closed his eyes, biting gently at the back of Sam’s neck when the other’s lips parted and Sam nipped playfully at his thumb.
Sam reached back; his own fingers caressing Dean’s thighs beneath the hot water as he tilted his head back and rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. “This feels good,” he murmured, eyes closed, feeling almost sleepy as the older man’s fingertips trailed over his cheek, then down the line of his jaw.
Dean’s chuckle was low and soft against the back of Sam’s neck. “I haven’t even started,” he whispered, reaching out and grabbing a washcloth and soap from the nearby shelf. Dean wet the cloth and worked up a lather, then ran it over Sam’s back in slow circles, following each stroke with his hand, caressing every inch of skin he could reach. When he’d done Sam’s arms, shoulders and back, he rinsed the soap off just as thoroughly, first with the cloth, then by cupping water in his hands, watching the small rivulets trailing down Sam’s glistening skin. “Turn around,” Dean said quietly when he was finished, his voice rough, green eyes hooded.
Sam’s eyes popped open at the soft command but he did what he was told, moving forward a bit and curling his long legs against his chest, hands on the sides of the tub as he maneuvered himself around to face his brother. He couldn’t stop the blush that rose in his cheeks when Dean reached down, grasping his legs and resting them over his own thighs, before he urged Sam closer, nearly pulling the younger man into his lap. He bit his lower lip gently, noting the intense expression in Dean’s narrowed eyes. Just as he was about to ask what was wrong, the words died off into a soft moan at the feel of Dean’s fingers brushing over his nipples.
“That’s better,” Dean smirked faintly, leaning forward and pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along Sam’s jaw. He moved up and kissed Sam on the lips, tongue tracing the outline of them before he nipped at the other man’s lower lip. His hands began to languidly explore Sam’s torso, stroking, pinching, nails scratching lightly over the younger man’s skin. Meanwhile Dean tilted his head, trying to coax Sam closer. When the younger man bent his head down a bit, Dean smiled and closed his eyes, pressing kisses to Sam’s cheeks, the end of his nose, even his eyelids. He dropped feather-light kisses everywhere he could reach on Sam’s face, then pulled back, eyes raking over the other man, taking in every angle, every feature.
Sam opened his eyes when the kisses stopped, looking at Dean curiously as the older man lathered up the cloth, those intense green eyes never leaving him. He’d never seen his brother so focused and attentive like this, it was as if- *As if he’s trying to memorize everything about me…* Sam thought, sadness welling within him. He glanced over at the shelf, noticing a second cloth, and immediately reached for it, silencing Dean’s attempted protest with a kiss. Sam quickly lathered up his own cloth, arms wrapping around Dean as he started on the older man’s back, soapy fingertips tracing down his brother’s spine and making Dean shiver.
Dean smiled and let his cheek rest against Sam’s, enjoying the gentle, mutual explorations. He realized Sam had caught on to what he was doing, and why. It pained him to think this might be the only time they’d have to be together like this, that these memories might be all they’d have of each other, but he refused to let the sadness overtake him. There was no way he’d let that demon bitch ruin what little time he had left with Sam.
His musings were interrupted when Sam began rubbing the cloth over his chest, the younger man pausing to delve under the water, fingers stroking along his inner thigh, dangerously close to his groin. “Sam,” he groaned, then chuckled softly, biting down lightly where Sam’s neck and shoulder met.
“You were thinking way too hard,” Sam teased with a wide grin, before he kissed Dean quickly, then rubbed noses with him. “Less thinking, more action.”
“Wow,” Dean breathed, looking up at Sam with mock amazement, hands slipping beneath the water to squeeze Sam’s ass, before he yanked the younger man into his lap. “Maybe I did manage to rub off on you a little after all.”
Sam laughed, one hand cupping Dean’s cheek as he captured the other man’s lips in a hungry kiss, tongue mapping the inside of his brother’s mouth eagerly. His free hand snaked between them, wrapping around Dean’s cock and stroking, enjoying the feel of the velvety length hardening beneath his touch. “Yeah, looks like you did, even your libido,” he snickered, before kissing Dean again, more insistently this time.
Dean groaned into the kiss, one arm around Sam’s waist as the other reached around on the shelf, seeking the lube. “Well, at least you got one of the better qualities,” he chuckled, finding the small tube. “Up a bit, I got something in mind,” Dean murmured, squirming around and getting his legs underneath him. Then he rose up onto his knees and sat back, drawing Sam closer again. “C’mere,” he whispered, tilting his head and nipping down the side of Sam’s throat, one hand cupping Sam’s balls before he trailed a fingertip up the underside of the younger man’s length.
Sam moaned, eyes closing as he pressed closer. One arm slid around Dean’s shoulders as he shifted his legs trying, awkwardly at first, to wrap them around Dean’s hips. He found a comfortable position at last, shivering and resting his forehead against Dean’s shoulder as the other man’s fingers wrapped around his cock, hand moving up and down Sam’s shaft in slow, teasing strokes. “Need you,” he whispered, free hand reaching out and grasping the edge of the tub as Sam raised his hips, rocking forward and positioning himself over Dean’s length.
“Whoa, hold on there, tiger,” Dean laughed softly, teeth grazing over Sam’s chin as he opened the tube, spreading some lube over his fingertips, then setting it aside. “Trust me, you don’t want to rush this, and neither do I,” he murmured, reaching down and gently pushing a finger past Sam’s tight ring of muscle, looking up when his brother tensed. “Relax, Sammy,” Dean whispered, working the digit in and out slowly for a few moments, before adding a second.
Sam nodded, resting his forehead against Dean’s as he took a deep breath, eyes closed tightly. “I am,” he said quietly, one hand cupping the older man’s cheek, the other gripping Dean’s shoulder lightly. “Now trust me,” he met Dean’s eyes, voice almost a growl. “I don’t need much more, I’m ready.”
“Think so?” Dean narrowed his eyes and laughed softly, scissoring his fingers gently, before pressing deeper, seeking Sam’s prostate. The gasp wrenched from the other man’s lips combined with Sam’s body arching against his told Dean he’d found it. He worked the spot ruthlessly with his fingertips, brushing it lightly until Sam was whimpering, trembling, cheeks darkened while his hands gripped and tugged at Dean frantically. “Yeah, you might be ready now,” Dean said softly, withdrawing his fingers and reaching for the small tube once more.
Sam squirmed restlessly in Dean’s lap, teeth grazing down the older man’s jaw while his hands brushed over Dean’s chest. He tightened his legs a bit, rocking his hips. “Hurry,” he implored, pulling back and staring at Dean with hooded eyes, pupils dilated as Sam took a deep, shaky breath.
“Seems you got my impatience too,” Dean noted with a smile, fingers sliding up and down his own cock, coating it with lube. He moaned quietly, then shivered when Sam pressed a hard, demanding kiss to his lips. “Okay, easy,” he soothed as his brother’s hips tilted, rocking up and down, Sam’s length trapped between their abdomens, drawing a keening sound from the younger man. Dean turned his head, licking up the side of Sam’s throat, one arm wrapped around the younger man’s waist to hold him steady. The other hand curled around his own length, positioning himself before he thrust up slowly, air hissing between his teeth at the heat and tightness. “God, Sammy,” he rasped, pausing a moment to let the other man adjust.
But Sam wasn’t in the mood to wait. With an impatient sound he bent his legs, bracing himself while his hands reached out, gripping the sides of the tub. He cried out harshly, lifting his hips slowly, then thrusting down and wrenching a hoarse shout from his brother. His head fell back, teeth bared as he panted softly, waiting for his body to adjust to the intrusion.
“Jesus, Sam…” Dean groaned, both hands skimming over the younger man’s back as he fought the urge to thrust into the searing heat. He trailed a line of kisses along Sam’s shoulder, then across his collarbone, taking a moment to nibble at the soft skin of the other man’s throat, smiling against it when Sam brushed a hand through his hair with a pleased murmur.
Sam kissed Dean’s temple, his hand latching onto the older man’s shoulder before he raised himself up once more, starting to thrust up and down, setting a lazy rhythm. He gasped and shivered when Dean matched it, thrusting up gently to meet him, each stroke brushing his sweet spot and sending waves of pleasure rippling through him. “Dean,” he whimpered, both arms wrapping tightly around the other’s shoulders as Sam continued to rock his hips.
Dean tilted his head up, capturing Sam’s lips in a gentle, lingering kiss as he continued to thrust upward, hands splayed over the other man’s waist.
Soon the sounds of soft panting, water splashing and flesh brushing and hitting lightly against flesh filled the small room. The two men continued their languid pace, until the urgent need for completion took over. Then their movements became more urgent, the water rising in waves up the sides of the tub with each thrust of their hips, some of it spilling out to pool on the floor, trickling toward the doorway.
Sam groaned, moving his head jerkily, nuzzling Dean’s cheek as sweat trailed down the side of his face. He bared his teeth, nails digging into the other man’s shoulders, clinging to Dean tightly, cheeks darkened, eyes clenched shut.
“Sammy,” Dean growled, hands tightening on the younger man’s waist as he pulled Sam closer, pressing against him and trapping Sam’s length between them, providing more friction while he sought to bring his brother to climax.
The extra friction and one particularly hard thrust from Dean was all Sam needed. He arched in the other man’s grip, head flung back as he shouted Dean’s name, voice breaking, a shudder running through his frame while his seed coated both their stomachs before being washed away by the water splashing around and between them.
Dean clenched his teeth, then growled out his brother’s name, arms locked around Sam’s torso as he jerked his hips up. He shivered at the feel of Sam’s muscles tightening around him, his own movements becoming uneven as he felt his own climax building. Dean looked up and groaned as he watched the younger man’s body arch, taking in Sam’s sweaty hair sticking to his flushed cheeks, those full, pink lips parted as the younger man murmured his name. That was all it took for Dean to lose control, a hoarse, wordless cry spilling from his lips as he came, thrusting erratically for a few more moments, before he stopped, panting harshly.
Sam groaned, leaning forward and curling around Dean, chest heaving as he fought for breath. His heart was pounding; Sam could almost hear the blood rushing while he tried to get himself back under control. When he finally managed that, Sam turned his head and rested his cheek on Dean’s shoulder, hands tracing light patterns over the older man’s back. He let out a soft sound, baring his teeth slightly as Dean pulled out, then held him close. Half-closed eyes took in the water on the floor, and he smiled tiredly. “I think we’re going to need more towels,” he murmured, nodding toward the puddle that had spread from the base of the tub to just outside the door.
“Yeah, maybe,” Dean muttered, rubbing the tip of his nose along Sam’s cheek. “But first I think we need to replace some of this hot water.” He chuckled softly, hands sliding down to cup Sam’s ass, kneading the smooth flesh gently. “‘Cause I’m far from done with you. I got a promise to keep,” he pulled his head back and gave Sam a lecherous grin, pinching his rear and laughing when his brother jumped. “I’m gonna enjoy hearing you beg, Sammy,” Dean leered up at the younger man, voice low and full of wicked promise.
Sam leaned back on the couch, smirking over at his brother. He watched Dean silently, hazel eyes drifting down to the other man's neck while Dean took a long drink of beer. He swallowed, shifting as the older man's throat worked to swallow the cool liquid, Sam having to fight the urge to lean over and mark the tender skin once again, adding to the myriad of hickeys and love bites left there already.
True to his word, Dean had made Sam beg for mercy before lunch, and after a break for a meal and some television, Dean had all but pounced on Sam again, seemingly insatiable in his desire for the younger man. Not that Sam was complaining...
His fingers absently rubbed at his knee, where he'd banged it three times. The first time had been in the tub during their second round of intimacy, in which Dean had urged Sam up onto his hands and knees, and one reflexive jerk had resulted in his knee coming into painful contact with the side of the bathtub. The second time was after lunch, when he'd coaxed Dean into trying that little...suggestion of his. While pinning his brother to the wall, Sam had banged his knee against it as well. The third, well, Sam blushed just remembering his own clumsiness while trying to lay back on the couch so Dean could have his way with him again. He'd just meant to part his legs, but the right one slid off the couch, his knee hitting the edge of the coffee table and drawing a yelp from Sam that nearly had Dean putting an end to their continued plans.
His gaze moved to said coffee table, which was now strewn with plates, beer bottles and empty bags of chips. They'd dined on pizzas he'd found in the freezer, (which, if asked, he would swear hadn't been there this morning when he'd been looking for something to make for breakfast) beer, and followed it up with chips and dip. Then Dean had decided to see if the huge television that took up nearly one corner of the small living room actually did more than take up space. As it turned out, it did, and the two brothers had watched a basketball game while they ate.
Dean set his beer down and leaned back, one leg lifting, his foot propped against the edge of the table, before he looked over at Sam with a smile. "You know, kickin' back, watchin' the game and downing a few beers," he murmured, reaching out and cupping the back of Sam's neck, drawing the younger man closer, "and spending a little quality time with my little brother, no hunting, no fighting, just you and me..." He kissed Sam softly once the other man leaned over against him. "This was perfect, thanks, Sammy."
"Don't thank me," Sam whispered, one arm slipping around Dean's shoulders, the other arm draped over the back of the couch. "I didn't do the work, just enjoyed the end result of it with you."
"Yeah well," Dean shrugged, smiling faintly as he pressed their foreheads together. "You convinced me to hang around and enjoy it." He looked down, expression pensive for a moment, before he lifted his head, pasting a slightly strained smile on his face. "And I did, Sam. This last twenty-four hours was great. No guns, no fighting, just a quiet, normal night..." he trailed off as Sam raised his eyebrows and grinned at him. "Well, as normal as things ever get for us, anyway." His smile became real at the sound of his brother's laugh, and Dean looked away, watching the game for a moment before he glanced back at Sam again.
What he saw had him backing away with a startled gasp, his eyes wide. To him, Sam suddenly looked like something straight out of a zombie movie, mouth gaping, skin a mottled gray, the younger man's hair limp and dull. But the eyes were the worst, wide, no longer brown but milky white, the irises a dull blue like those of a corpse, with deep dark rings around them. "No!" He cried out, startled, rearing back when Sam reached for him.
"Dean, Dean!" Sam shouted, grasping his brother's shoulders and staring at him fearfully. "What's wrong?" He asked, voice softening as he saw the flash of fear in the other man's eyes, before Dean struggled to cover it, jaw clenching, green eyes narrowing.
"It's time," Dean said, voice raw as he stared back at Sam. "She's comin' for me, Sammy. Whatever you're gonna do, you better do it quick, or you can kiss me goodbye, literally." He pulled out of Sam's grasp and rose to his feet, striding to the middle of the room and glaring around, looking out the window, then at the doorway to the kitchen. "Come on then, you bitch..."
Sam rushed over to the corner, reaching into the duffel bag he'd brought in from the Impala. He pulled out a leather sachet, a container of salt, a bottle of holy water and a stake of wood. "Okay, let's do this." He rushed around the room, quickly laying down two lines across each windowsill and doorway, one of a dark gray dust, the other of salt.
"Gopher dust?" Dean asked, frowning as he watched Sam move around him, quickly laying down two circles around him. "What's with the stake?" He blinked as Sam thrust the wood and holy water into his hands, glancing down at them.
""Palo Santo wood, Tamara told us about it, remember?" He murmured, then shrugged and sighed, moving into the circle and pulling Dean close. "I don't know if it'll affect a hellhound, but it's worth a shot, right?"
Dean nodded mutely, then reached up, cupping the back of Sam's head and pulling him down for a kiss which was all longing and desperation, with a sad hint of finality to it. "If this doesn't work-"
Sam silenced him with a finger against Dean's lips. "If it doesn't work, you be ready. Because if I can't break the deal, I'm still going to get you out of hell. You watch for that gate to open, because I'll release another damn hoard of demons before I let that bitch have you," Sam said fiercely, before kissing Dean hungrily. "If Dad could climb out of hell, so can you."
"Sam! Are you crazy?!" Dean cried, moving to follow Sam when the younger man suddenly pulled away and walked back over to their bags, pulling out a small box. "Sam..." Dean stared at the box, noting its size and color, realizing he'd seen it before. As a matter of fact he'd used one just like it, exactly one year ago tonight. "What the hell are you gonna do with-"
"Stay in the circle, Dean!" Sam shouted, whirling around and glaring at his brother. "Just stay there. I told you once already, you're my brother, and there is nothing I won't do for you. I'm going to break this deal, or if I can't," he paused then, swallowing hard as tears sprang to his eyes. "Then I'll set you free, at least." After a final, lingering look at his brother, Sam turned and ran from the room, flinching at the sound of Dean screaming his name.
"Well, seems time's almost up for you, isn't it?" A soft, feminine voice came from behind Dean, making him whirl around, brandishing the stake.
He paused, frowning as he got a good look at the woman before him. "You're not the demon," he growled, tilting his head and glaring at the intruder.
"Nope, you're right, I'm not," she laughed, then her form shimmered and changed, turning into the trickster. "It's just me, your old pal," the man snickered, before taking a bite of the candy bar in his right hand, smirking at the apprehensive look on Dean's face. "I take it you liked that little fake death scene of mine?" He gave a mock bow, then straightened, walking over and putting one toe inside the circle dramatically. "Nope, no effect on me at all," the trickster said cheerfully, before he backed away and leaned against the back of the sofa.
"So, seems like it’s crunch time. Sam's off to make a deal, and you're about to be dragged kicking and screaming down to hell." The trickster sighed and shook his head. "You know, that makes an amusing image when it's someone that deserves to be carted off," he slanted a look at Dean. "But I just can't let that happen to you. What's the commercial again? Friends don't let friends drive drunk? Well, I don't think friends should let friends go to hell, either." He raised an eyebrow and smiled as a brilliant shaft of light streamed down from the ceiling, enveloping Dean inside the circle.
"Hey! What the hell's goin' on?" Dean shouted, started to struggle when he felt his feet leaving the ground. He realized he was slowly being raised off the floor. Dean glared at the trickster, trying to fight the pull of the light. "Where are you taking me?"
"Just out of her reach for the moment. That uppity little bitch is about to get schooled," the trickster grinned wickedly, watching as Dean suddenly vanished, the light fading immediately afterward.
Sam ran away from the cabin, legs pumping, the small box clutched to his chest. Wide brown eyes stared ahead, his expression frantic as he cut across the overgrown weeds that comprised the front yard, turning left and heading for the crossroads. He caught the brief flash of light that poured from the cabin's windows, illuminating the grass and trees, casting a shadow before him.
"What...?" Sam paused, nearly stumbling, then turned around and gazed back, watching the light fading inside the small building. "Dean!" He screamed, feeling the sting of tears as he assumed the demon had already gotten to him.
"Calm down," a disturbingly familiar voice sounded from directly behind him. "It's all good, dude."
Sam gasped as a hand reached around and yanked the box from his grasp. He spun around to face his attacker, a choked, surprised cry caught in his throat when he realized he was looking at...himself.
"I can't let you do it, Sam. We both know Dean would never forgive you if you went and made that deal." The pseudo-Sam smirked, tossing the box in the air and catching it with one hand.
"You...” Sam whispered, staring at what he knew must be a trick. He was still too stunned to react when the pseudo-Sam lunged forward and lashed out at him. He staggered back, pain radiating from near his temple where the other man had struck. Then his vision went dark around the edges and Sam's legs gave out, the brunette unconscious before he hit the ground.
To Be Continued…
Oh my, what’s this? You’ll just have to stay tuned for the final chapter, to see how it all turns out! Feedback helps get the muses moving that much faster!