Burn prt 5
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt:
Warnings: Slash (finally), wincest, language, dubious con, bondage
Rating: NC17
Summary: Sammy needs to get away from Dean.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Sam and Dean; just borrowing them. All I own is what my cats don’t want.
Heartfelt thanks to my beta
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the_ellycrys!Feedback makes my heart go pitter patter.
Previous parts here
Dean had looked in Granny’s eyes then. He had really looked and in their tobacco brown depths he had seen she was trying to tell him something; something she didn’t want to say and something he knew he didn’t want to hear. A third chill had run down his spine.
Dean leaned his head forward and continued his mental rehash of current events. It was two days and two towns since the morning Granny Mitchum had bought them breakfast. Sam and Dean had verified as much as they could before they left town; Dean hoping the distance would buy them more time. That had only led to Sammy trying to take the wheel one day in a desire spun fugue. That’s when Dean had decided they should hole up.
Sam had discovered the missing men had had lost loves and Dean had discovered Granny Mitchum’s reputation checked out. She was the local “wise woman” and as far as he could tell she was one of the good guys.
It didn’t take long for Sam to be less and less involved with trying to find out who the witch was and how to break the hex. Sam had become more and more fixated with just going to the witch. His desire had been painfully obvious to Dean and just painful to Sam.
Dean had called Dad. He’d called him several times only to get that same damned message.
“Fuck,” Dean whispered and stood up. He made his way over to the sink and rinsed out the wash cloth. Once again he wiped at his nose, which had now stopped bleeding. Dean looked at his reflection in the mirror. There were blood smears on his chest from where the blood had soaked through his shirt. The stains were stark and accusatory. Thoughts of Cain from the Bible flittered through Dean’s mind. Jerkily he rubbed the rag across his chest until the red blood was replaced with reddened skin.
“Do what you boys think you gotta do to make peace with what’s happenin’ but make it soon.” Granny Micthum’s voice haunted Dean. “If ya find a way ta save your brother…all lost the one thing that could a saved ‘em; the touch of a lover.”
Dean threw the rag down in the sink and turned his back on the mirror. Memories of Sam’s length pressing against Dean followed in time to Granny’s words. “If ya find a way ta save your brother….”
“I can’t, Sammy,” Dean whispered but the chill in his spine answered he could. Dean could if he had to.
“A lover’s touch isn’t sumthin ya can just go out and find like a two dollar cheesburger! If ya can’t understand that then yer thicker than I first thought ya were!”
Oh, Dean was beginning to understand and he was afraid just how far his understanding was going to have to go. Despite what Granny Mitchum had said, Dean had convinced Sam to try another honky-tonk and another girl. The evening ended with a confused brunette, Sam a half mile out of town before Dean caught up with him, and a sedative to put Sam to sleep. Attempting to be with the brunette had only seemed to drive Sammy toward the Witch.
However, during the evening's fight, Sam had arched and bucked under Dean, and not just to get a way. Sam had stared down at Dean with desire. Dean had felt Sam’s desire.
“…the one thing that could a saved ‘em; the touch of a lover,” echoed again through Dean’s head. A lover was someone who cared; who cared more than just about sex. It was about touching and sharing. It was the physical expression of emotional intimacy. Just because Dean wasn’t good with emotional intimacy didn’t mean he didn’t understand about love or lovers.
But Sam! Dean groaned. This would be wrong. The kind of wrong there was no going back from for either brother. But then again was it more wrong then a witch who preyed on heart broken men? Was it more wrong than demons who slaughtered young mothers over their infants’ cribs? On the scale of wrong would this even tip the balance at all?
I can’t be thinking this, Dean thought. I don’t’ know if it would even break the hex.
“Please, Dean, I can’t do this any more,” Sam’s plea joined the other echoes in Dean’s head.
Dean hung his head in his hands. He wondered if it was even possible for him to do this. Yeah, he knew the mechanics. There was that one girl, Cyndi, who spent the better part of an evening trying to get him to agree to do a threesome with her and her boyfriend. She was cute, funny and apparently in an open relationship. Out of curiosity, and a hope to score, he’d listened to her tales and asked about how it worked between two guys. She’d gotten hot going into great detail. In the end he declined the offer of a threesome but not the offer to take her home. Dean had even decided not to dwell on why the closet door was open just a crack or whether or not that little tidbit made the encounter that much sweeter.
Would Sam even agree to do this? Dean asked himself. Does it matter? He answered. Sam was too far gone. And while things like Latin and Math had come easy to Sam; Sex and Seduction were Dean’s natural gifts. Sam had a desire; spell induced, but desire none the less.
“Do what you boys think you gotta do to make peace with what’s happenin’ but make it soon.”
Dean swiped his hand over his face one last time. There are always options, he had told Sam and Dean had meant it. If this was the only option beside letting some backwoods hokum-pockum witch-bitch take his Sammy then so be it. Let the fates, the angels, or God condemn him. He’d take it with a smile. Dean could do this to save Sam. Dean would even take Sam’s loathing in the end if that was the price.
Dean took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. Dean stepped into the other room. Sam was still stretched out on the bed. His eyes were closed. With a confidence Dean didn’t entirely feel he once again walked to his bag. This time he pulled out a little tin foil square and a small tube of lube he used for those occassions when he needed some alone time. He stuffed the items in his pockets and turned to face Sam.
Dean leaned back against the dresser and took a moment to just study Sam. He wanted to just look at Sam as a man. There was no doubt Sam was handsome. While Dean had a shorter more solid frame; Sam was tall and lean like a swimmer. His hair was longer and Dean knew how silky soft it was. Now, for the first time, Dean let himself wonder what it would feel like to run his hand through that hair; to bury his face in it and to rub it against his throat.
The thought of Sam’s throat drew Dean’s attention to it. Sam’s Adam’s apple was more prounounced than Dean’s. Cyndi had said her boyfriend liked to have his nibbled and sucked. Dean once again let himself wonder. Dean wondered what it would be like to gently lick up from the hollow spot just under the apple and then close his mouth in a gentle but consuming kiss over it as if he were going to bite a delicate piece of fruit.
To Dean’s amazement he found his wondering was having an affect. He wasn’t at a full salute; but he could work with his current "passing fancy."
Dean moved forward and over to the bed. Gently he eased himself onto the foot of the bed into a crawl position and with well practiced ease he began to crawl up Sam’s body.
Sam’s eyes flew open. He wasn’t alone on the bed. He looked down to see Dean crawling up his body like some great cat on the prowl.
“Dean?”
Dean continued to crawl until he was face to face with Sam. The two brothers were so close Sam could feel the heat coming from Dean’s bare chest. It ignited the slumbering burn inside of him. Sam felt his cock swell. Oh God, Dean!
Sam’s pupils grew dilated and he breathed in deep. The heat and the smell of his brother were fused into one and blazing around him. A thin line of sweat began to bead on Sam’s upper brow.
Dean could tell the moment the desire began to fire within Sam. Sam’s hazel eyes seemed to turn a bit more to the green side. Dean saw the thin line of sweat on Sam’s lip. He wondered what it would be like to let the tip of his tongue trace that line and then dip in between those lips.
In for a penny…, Dean thought as he lowered his head, stopped wondering and began finding out. Dean groaned. The taste of Sam was intoxicating. Perhaps forbidden fruit was the best. He let his tongue sample the thin line along Sam’s lip and then he let it dip into Sam’s open mouth for sweeter treasures.
Sam arched in agonizingly sweet pleasure the moment Dean’s tongue swept into his mouth and began a gentle exploration of his upper palate. Sam wanted to ask Dean what was going on; why was he doing this but instead he opened his mouth wider inviting Dean to explore more.
Dean accepted the invitation and closed his lips over Sam’s. Sweet Je….Dean couldn’t finish his thought. He was consumed by the need to ravish Sam’s mouth. He rolled his tongue over Sam’s while his lips marveled at how soft Sam’s were. Over and over Dean swept his tongue around Sam’s creating a friction and a pace; setting up a promise.
Sam was burning. Red flames licked through him at his root but where Dean was devouring him was a blue inferno. For the first time in days Sam needed something more than her and this new need was no less intense.
Reluctantly Dean lifted his mouth away from Sam’s and drew in some much needed air. He looked down at his brother. Sam was a man gripped by desire; and his eyes were completely focused on Dean. Dean smiled.
Dean’s smile brought a moment of sanity to Sam. This was Dean!
”What…?” Sam started to ask.
“It’s all I got, Sammy,” Dean answered before the question was finished. Right or wrong, yes or no, Dean wasn’t going back. He knew by Sam’s response this might work and Dean was going to gamble it all.
“Dean…”
“Shhh, Sam,” Dean said as he leaned in for another kiss. Once again Dean ravished Sam’s mouth; tasting and tormenting until Sam was struggling against the cuffs in a need to pull Dean closer.
Dean chuckled and began nibbling his way from Sam’s lips down to Sam’s throat. Dean smiled against a pulse point. He could feel Sam’s heartbeat fluttering there like a leaf in a windstorm. Dean leaned down further and suckled in the hollow of Sam’s throat.
The suckling at Sam’s throat was sending signals straight to Sam’s cock. Sam was burning alive. Everywhere Dean touched him was a blue flame and it was searing him. The pull to go to her was there but Dean was here and Sam wanted that presence to consume him no matter how wrong it was.
Dean’s talented tongue started swirling circles in that hollow that fascinated him. Sam moaned and when Dean started to lick a trail up to that adorable apple Sam’s held his breath only to let it out in stuttering gasps as Dean started to nibble that same treat.
Sam wasn’t the only one on fire. Dean felt himself grow harder with each sound and squirm Sam made. The taste and feel of Sam was drowning him and Dean only wanted more; perhaps from now on he’d always want more.
Dean moved back up for another kiss. This time he gently sucked on Sam’s upper lip before mapping Sam’s mouth with his tongue. Dean frowned when he felt the jagged tear on Sam’s lower lip from where he’d bitten it earlier. Dean caught Sam’s gaze and then ever so softly sucked the bruised flesh into his own mouth. Dean caressed Sam’s bottom lip with gentle little sucking motions. Dean never broke eye contact.
Sam was lost. He didn’t know whether to move, to groan, or to try and return the kiss. Sam just felt.
As gently as Dean had captured the wounded lip, he let it go. Then he began his assault of tiny kisses down Sam’s jaw and over to his ear. Dean took a moment to nuzzle his face in Sam’s hair. It was soft and silky and Dean couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like nestled between his thighs as Sam blew him.
Sam heard Dean’s groan and answered in kind. What the hell was happening between them? How could it be this achingly good when it had to be so very, very wrong?
Dean stopped his nuzzling and pulled back. He needed more. He looked down at Sam. There was too much between them. Briefly Dean thought about undoing the cuffs; but he still wasn’t sure Sam wouldn’t still try and run.
Dean settled back from his hands and knees position over Sam and straddled him instead.
Fire! Need! DEAN! Sam arched up underneath Dean trying to press his rock hard length against Dean’s denim clad ass.
“Shhhh,” Dean whispered again as he lay a gentling hand on Sam’s chest. Sam settled back down on the bed and looked at Dean.
Dean smiled as Sam tried to relax and control his breathing. Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his key set; the start of all the evening’s madness. Attached to the key set was a flip knife. Dean flipped it open and grabbed the bottom hem of Sam’s shirt.
“Hold very still, Sammy,” Dean ordered. Then with tortuously slow and precise movements he began slicing a line up from the bottom of Sam’s shirt to the collar.
Sam desperately wanted to rub against Dean. He needed to move. He needed friction for release, but Dean had ordered him not to move. Sam lay motionless as he watched his brother slice a line rending his shirt.
When the collar finally gave way, Dean flipped the knife closed and tossed the keys to the side of the bed. Then he grabbed the edges of the now torn shirt and ripped them apart baring the lean muscled chest to Dean’s hungry gaze.
“I hope that wasn’t your favorite shirt,’ Dean said as he leaned forward and began to map out a new playground for his tongue.
When Dean drove his tongue into Sam’s belly button a line of pure electric desire flared straight to the tip of Sam’s cock. Sam screamed in frustration and yanked on the cuffs. Dean chuckled. Bet you’re not thinking of that bitch now are you?
Over and over Dean lapped at Sam’s belly button. Dean wanted to fill it up with all sorts of treats; chocolate, whip cream, and whiskey. Dean wanted to make a picnic out of lapping at Sam’s little button for the taste and the delightful sounds Sam was making.
“Oh God! Dean! God…please!”
Dean withdrew from Sam’s belly button. “I don’t think God has much to do with this, Sam.”
Dean leaned back down and let his tongue make a trail from the abused belly button up to Sam’s right nipple. Time to let the teeth play! Dean swirled his tongue around once, twice and after the third swipe when the nipple was firm and round Dean bit down.
“DEAN!” Sam screamed. Sam twisted and moaned. He closed his eyes; sight being one too many senses for his overwhelmed brain to process. Sam was lost some where between pleasure and pain from the wanting slamming through him. Red fire and blue fire were dancing inside of him. It was a battle of her versus Dean; Sam was collateral damage.
Dean suckled on the abused nipple; kissing and soothing where he had caused pain. Then Dean let his tongue slide over to the left nipple and gave equal treatment to the dusty bud.
This time Sam’s scream was inarticulate. Dean soothed the left nipple and then let his hands trace the muscles over Sam's chest. He felt like he was caressing sun warmed silk stretched over smooth steel. Dean liked women. Dean liked the curve and softness of women; but the feel of so much strength writhing beneath him was making him harder than any curve.
Over and over Dean let his hand wander and then lower and lower until they were dancing at the waistband of Sam’s jeans. All the while, Sam panted, twisted and made little mewling noises of desire. Dean brushed over the waistband and down along the bulging fly to where Sam’s straining cock was trying to tent the tight fabric.
Dean settled back into a straddle position over the top of Sam’s legs. He smiled; they’d come full circle. Dean paused for a minute to give Sam a chance to calm down.
Slowly Sam came down from his sensual haze. Sam realized Dean had stopped touching him and was just straddling him. Though, Dean wasn’t straddling him where Sam needed him. Sam took a few deep breaths and then opened his eyes to look at his brother.
Dean smiled. “Watch me, Sammy.”