The Passenger: Chapter eight

[askellington]

Sam

Turned out, Dean knew the pack through Bobby.

He told Sam that he'd met this pack on a ride that Bobby took him on, part of Dean's getting familiar with the territory and the route the Men of Letters had wanted him to ride. The town was small, deep off the road, a fairly regular meeting place for this particular crowd. It had been Dean's first meet-up with citizen supers, and it had been an eye-opening one.

Wolves, Dean told Sam, were pretty gregarious beings when things were going well. They were still getting used to the idea of being citizens when he and Bobby had come across them, just testing out what it was being part of society instead of hanging on the fringes of it and pulling down stragglers.

"Mind you," Dean laughed, "never met a wolf who ever copped to eating human flesh, but hey." He shrugged. "That was then. And back then, humans were still getting used to the idea that they weren't the top of the heap anymore; more than once had to cold-cock some asshole who thought that because a certain being was some kinda were, they were fair game for anything. The MoL gave me a job," Dean said, "part of which was making sure their laws were being carried."

Sam took from that, that the no-slavery law was serious, and Dean was even being paid to make sure the humans followed the law. Sam shook his head. Dean...he was such a dork, he really thought the reason he was so offended by enslaved supers was because he was being paid to be. Sam side-eyed Dean, watched him drink the mole's liquor, pass it around to the supers sitting close by him and snorted.

How many mole agents would spend an evening with a bunch of drunk werewolves, howling right along with them?

As for werewolves, and this pack in particular, Sam found out from Fast that they mostly didn't deal with big groups of humans until necessary. They weren't farmers, but they were good at collecting things humans wanted, like wild material for medicine and spells, and even crafting. They brought in wild game and furs, something in big demand with the humans-they bought them to treat and prepare for Men of Letters. In turn, they got dry goods and sometimes domestic meat when hunting was sparse. Wolves of this pack sometimes traded for jewelry-werewolves in general weren't overly motivated to make baubles themselves, but liked a little sparkle sometimes. Fast had small gold hoops in the tops of his ears-apparently when he shifted, they sat in the tips of his long, pointed ears.

"Looks hot, bitches like it," Fast grinned and Sam laughed.

Sam caught Dean casting a quick look his way when he laughed. He was scowling, but he stayed sitting where he was, next to the old wolves, watching a storyteller tell the one about a lone wolf who outsmarts three pigs by talking them into a building house of straw.

Sam was about to leave Fast to sit near Dean, but just as he got to his feet, a tall, tits heavy female slinked over to Dean's side and plopped herself on his lap. Dean gave her a lazy grin, and she leaned closer, whispering in his ear.

Sam froze-he could smell how interested Dean was from where he was, saw him shift in his seat as the female whispered to him. An odd feeling rushed over him, not anger, not want...something that made his chest hurt, and his teeth want to drop, and his skin feel two sizes too small. He was restless and irritated at the female, who was none of Sam's business, just like Dean was none of his business. He was nothing but a good smell to him.

"Whoa," Fast said, obviously sniffing the air and looking surprised. "Bright's all over him. Trying for a rematch, I guess...but I thought you guys-I mean, your smells are all braided up with each other." He cut a side eye at Sam, the way he stood so stiff and silent, and uttered a small and quiet, "Oh."

Sam shook his head, laughing softly. "Well, alright." He lifted his chin and smirked at Fast. "So. What do you guys do for fun?" and Fast's eyes went hot and intense.

"Let's go for a run," he said, starting to take his jacket off. "Get some snow on our paws-oh, or whatever, excuse me for assuming-"

"Fuck," Sam said. "Man, I've got kind of a problem…."

=@=

"So let me get this straight-your beast has been locked down since four?"

"Yeah, thereabouts. I got bought when it was still a legal thing, I guess? And never got let go. Hadn't been for Dean I might still be caged-or dead by now. I didn't even know. And my beast, no idea. Don't remember a thing about changing really. Don't know how."

"Well, if you was a pup, I'd say it was easy; just relax and let go. But it's probably been under for so long, it doesn't know you."

They were walking along, crunching through the night-tinted snow, the moon high and bright and huge, making a light for their path. Sam mulled over Fast's words. doesn't know you . "You make it sound like it's a separate thing from me."

"Well, not really, but kind of? When you shift, you're still you, just with some bits of you, like...sleeping, but some bits of you are extra. But when you're...human-shaped, it sits right," he poked at the side head,"somewhere around in here. Mine is like a nosy-parker constantly listening in and letting me feel when I'm being a dork which I guess must be most of the time, at least according to the moms. And some of the dads...and the oldsters…"

He stopped and gave Sam a huge, sparkling grin, his cheeks going round as apples and cute crinkles appearing in the corners of his eyes. Dean had crinkles like that, they just didn't disappear when he stopped smiling. And he did that little thing with the tip of his tongue peeking out that was so….

"You know," Fast said, "maybe I am a bit of a dork come to think of it."

Sam laughed, and thoughts of Dean-the-bastard evaporated. "I think you're pretty okay."

"Okay, shifting lesson time." Fast lead him to a log and made him strip, and sit, then sat next to him. He was close; his body heat swept Sam up, and he was grateful for it, Skinwalker he might be, but his buck-naked ass on a freezing log was almost more than even he could take.

Fast opened his coat and shirt, and grabbed Sam's hand in a steel grip-he was incredibly strong for a guy built like a bundle of twigs. He pressed Sam's hand against his bared chest. "Feel my heart?"

At Sam's nod, he went on. "Close your eyes. Breathe in, breathe out, in and out, in …" Fast's free hand landed on Sam's knee, and the warmth was soothing. Boy smelled good, too, not as nice as Dean, but nice-sort of bright, like an orange, with little hints of pepper. Sam wondered if Fast had ever seen or eaten an orange. Sam had once, stole it from a john, right out of his….

"Slow breaths, Sam, slow, slow, slow...hands on knees now...soft, soft, feel yourself, feel..."

Sam was floating; drifting on the air currents, it was dark all around him, like being in fog, at night, with the feeling there was light, but up ahead, a ways distant, around a corner. It was too dark to see corners, or roads or if he was walking or flying….

"Sam," a soft voice broke into his thoughts, murmured,"what do you see?"

The velvety dark thinned a bit, dark gray fog billowed into his line-of-sight, and there was a hint, a feeling, that the light was closer. If he tried really hard he could just...about...see...where...he...was..."I see…"

Something huge and blacker than the darkness came flying at his face, the air around him was vibrating, filled with long sharp teeth and claws and fiery eyes that shattered the dark into pieces-like seeing color after a million years of darkness-

It screeched and roared, deafening him, and Sam threw himself backwards, desperate to escape whatever it was.

He was on his back staring up at the sky, drenched in sweat, feeling like he'd been dipped in fire. His hands hurt and looking down, he saw they were curled, like talons. He got a flash of talons clawing for him and shuddered. His eyes filled with tears. It hates me.

He closed them, and lay motionless in the snow, welcoming the chill as the fire slowly receded. The emotions that had crash-landed on him faded; he was distracted by a weird itchy feeling under his skin, along with a not very pleasant sensation of goose flesh madly racing up and down his body. He turned his arms up and yelped-there were black hairs all over them, as he watched, horrified, they disappeared, he swore they were flowing back into his skin. "Shit fuck!" he yelled, and staggered upright, shaking his hands like somehow he'd shake the hairs back out.

Fastmile grabbed him, his arms wrapping around him, pressing his arms against his side. "No, no-try again. This time, just think...who you are."

"Who I am? I don't even know-did you see? What am I?"

"You didn't, not really, change, you got...your eyes went all yellow and orange and green, and you got a lot of teeth, wow, so many, and some black hair…" Fast's excited rant wound down, and he huffed, "and I have no fucking idea. I've never seen that happen before. Maybe one of the elders could help?"

Great. Sam sat back on his heels, wiped hair from his face. "No. Keep this to yourself."

He blew out a breath and leaned forward, his entire body shaky and weak. He dropped his hands on the ground, knees in the snow. He closed his eyes. It's not cold. Fast is not staring at my asshole...

He forced all thought from his head. Try again.

He listened with all his heart; something was making a soft noise inside of him, something stretched and rubbed up against the inside of his brain. It was smooth and soft, and he began to smile, but in the next breath, it went all wrong, all bent, twisted, gnarled, reeking...Sam vomited, cramps making him drop to the snow and curl up in a ball.

"Fuck, fuck-" Suddenly Fast was there, rubbing every part of him he could reach, squeezing the back of his neck, a litany of "It's okay, it's okay, lay down, relax" running non-stop as he grabbed up a hand of snow. Sam heaved and groaned, and then Fast lifted his head, which weighed a fucking ton. Sam moaned, trying to get away from the pain, but Fast was gentle and relentless.

"Here." He shoved some snow into Sam's mouth-he startled before getting what Fast was after. He let the small handful melt, swished it around before spitting it out. He did that twice with Fast's help before he finally felt less like dying.

Fast pulled him close, wrapping his arms around Sam's chest. "Sam, I'm so sorry, but he's there, whoever he is, whatever he is, he's there. I could feel it. You're going to be beautiful...but not a wolf? I don't know what you smell like, but it's not a wolf. Or a bear."

"How about a moose?" he croaked and Fast gave him a weird look.

"No...no. Not a moose, either."

Sam fell back against Fast, leaning all his weight into him. It felt good. Fast's arms tight around him made him feel a little less frantic, and his bright, tart scent was actually calming. He felt bad at how much he wished it was Dean holding him instead. He opened his mouth and words fell out that weren't exactly directed at Fast, but still..."JeezDamn, I'm so tired of not being touched."

He heard a startled kind of whuff behind him and tilted his head back to look up at Fast. He was cute, and healthy and nice and Sam figured he could do worse and in fact had, over and over, what the fuck. But-"How old are you?"

"Wha?" Fast wrinkled his nose at Sam before pulling himself loose. He put a bit of space between them, taking up time by passing over Sam's boxers and pants, then boots and socks. "I don't know," his forehead wrinkled, "lemme see, about...twelve, thirteen…"

His whole face crinkled up in thought as Sam struggled into shirt and jacket, and got up to move away. He might have been fucking ever since he could remember, but fuck all if he was about to do that to someone under...Fast was a big fucking thirteen, though….

Fast face suddenly cleared and he gave Sam a gigantic grin. "Eighteen!" he crowed. "Because the last time we went to village, the store owner told me to help myself to a citizen badge because I was of age."

Sam stared at him. "Okay. That's…"

Fast was on him in a moment. "Besides, you know wolves mature earlier than humans do, right? I've been considered an adult since I was fourteen. Pretty much," he muttered, before smiling again.

Oh, really? Sam thought, looking up just in time to catch Fast giving him a look that he guessed was supposed to be seductive or something. It just made him look like he'd just finished eating some stolen chocolate, and made Sam doubt his word about his age. As for wolves maturing early, he didn't know a damn thing about that because all he knew about wolves was how to kill them.

"I swear…" Fast pulled his coat open and showed Sam a cheap little brass pin with a Men of Letters star stamped on it. Smirked, and curled a hand around Sam's chin and tilted him, to make it comfortable as he kissed him. Sam blinked. That was a confident move.

The kiss itself was good, warm and slick, and way fucking experienced - confident. The kiss was so fucking good it helped the last of his pain to drain away. He surged up into it, and Fast made a little sound of pleasure and encouragement, like he was the elder and Sam was the inexperienced pup who needed a little guidance.

This was so good, so nice...he'd been kissed before, but it had always been a mistake; whenever a human realized they'd gone that far, they pulled away, mostly blamed him and punished him for it. But not this kiss, this kiss was. Heat. Fast was hot, and Sam could feel a dick under those jeans that'd feel damn good inside him. He could lose himself and it'd be perfect. No worry about getting beat after. No attachments, no consequences, no having to share that he'd been a bait and a sextoy since four, no risk of getting rejected for fucking up some guy's view of his sexuality.

Yeah, this could be the best thing he'd had in...shit. Ever.

-=@=

Dean

So, here Dean was, with Brightsun wiggling in his lap and the weird thing was, it wasn't doing much for him, despite how many SpringDays he'd spent in her cottage.

She was fun-had been from the very first time they fucked, both of them barely out of their teens when she'd plucked him away from Bobby and fucked him stupid that first night and a few others until they pulled up stakes again. He remembered truly spectacular blowjobs from her-pretty thing had, like, no gag reflex, remembered how fucking hot and wet she'd get, all juicy and...okay. So, they were damn good memories. Right now, though, he was just thinking she was heavy, and keeping him from jumping up and going after Sam.

Bright was a real nice bitch, but so pack-centered that conversation between them was hard-but their basic form of communication had always been sex, so….

"What's up?" she asked, and inhaled in a way that would have been rude if they hadn't mixed scent before. "Luna's tits-you with a guy now?"

He glanced over to where Sam should be, she followed his gaze and "Oh!" she said, and, "Hunh."

Sam was leaving the yard with little Fastmile. Well, fuck...Fast was not so fucking little anymore. Dean watched them saunter off, gritting his teeth all the while.

"Oh shit, it's the 'walker? That's the guy you're with?" she laughed, and Dean thought he was about to crack his teeth.

Sam and Fast were disappearing into the woods, and she whacked his shoulder like she was hitting another werewolf. When he managed to right himself again, she was looking at him like he was a pathetic, love-sick fool, which he was not. "Dude, you worried about Fastmile? Don't be-he'd not that kind of guy. He won't do anything your boy doesn't want."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Dean mumbled, and she laughed.

"I'm see I'm totally wasting my time here-that boy has your nose wide open. Too bad, it was always a lot of fun with you."

Dean dropped his head and blushed. "Yeah, it really was, trust me, I haven't forgotten a thing about it."

She slid off his lap with a touch more wiggle than necessary. "Too bad more humans aren't like you-willing to step outside your own little box. What's up with your boy, though? I mean, he's pretty and all, but..."

"First off, he's not my boy, second, whatya mean?" Dean asked, kind of already pretty sure he knew what she meant.

"He smells off, like, more human than he should, for what's sleeping inside him."

an odd way to put it. Dean thought. He said, "He's...he's had an awful life. He was broken when I found him-humans. They trapped him in that shape."

She hissed, pulled back from Dean for a moment, and Dean went still, eyes turned away as he waited for her to gather herself again, showing all the respect he could. When she calmed, he asked her, "Can you...can you tell what he's supposed to be?"

She shook her head. "No, only thing I smell is him-and you, a lot of you. Mated levels of smell…." She peered at him and Dean shook his head.

"We only sleep, like sleep together, not that it's really your biz."

"Oh, ain't though," she grinned back, her cocky attitude resurfacing. "But nah-whoever the boy is, it's deep, deep inside. He was well and truly broke, poor thing. Still, that don't make him human, man. Don't you forget that."

Dean shook his head. She leaned down and kissed him, her hair falling forward to shield them both from view. The kiss was good-warm, wet, and thorough. When she drew back, his body instinctively leaned towards her, eyes closed and breath coming fast. "Man..."

"Um-hmm. You remember that one, it's your last from me. Heads up, darlin', your boy's coming back."

"Told you. He's not-"

Dean looked up, pinned in place by Sam bearing down on him, scowling like he was one step from baring all his teeth. Bright was sashaying his way-hips swinging, a smile on her face so wide, so bright, it stopped Sam in his tracks. For a second, Dean wondered if maybe Sam might follow Bright instead, but Sam just scowled as she passed. She winked at him, and growled, "Uhrrr, you lucky dog, you."

Sam startled back and blushed, a flush that left his nose and the tip of his ears bright pink. Shaking his head, he turned to Dean.

Dean stood, hands loose by his side, but Jeezfuck, he wanted to grab Sam, ask what the hell he'd been doing out in the woods with Fast, tell him that he shouldn't walk with anyone besides Dean...

But saying something like that was taking a huge fucking chance. Wasn't like he knew how Sam felt. Shit, the boy had been in his bed nearly every night, never once tried to touch, and Sam wasn't a shrinking violet kind of guy. Maybe Dean wasn't his speed-

Suddenly Sam was eye-to-eye with him. He snatched up Dean's arm. "Come on. We gotta talk, like, now."

Dean let Sam drag him along, trying to believe he was weirded out by the unfamiliar sensation of having not much choice in whether he moved or not. He was pretty sure if he lost his footing, Sam could still move him along like he weighed nothing. Shit. That shouldn't turn him on the way it did.

Sam slammed through the cabin door, Dean trotting to keep up, and the pack that had managed to ease their way inside all froze-looks of guilt on all their faces.

Sam stopped, Dean slammed into his back. Sam asked, "What the hell are you all doing in here?" A dozen voices started to respond when Sam cut them off. "No, you know what? Get out, now."

Weres jumped and converged on the exit, grabbing loose snacks, hooch, extra blankets on their way out. See ya in the morning they heard and Don't break him young 'walker Dean heard a whispered, mates, who woulda thought it? as the last of their guests crowded out the door.

The door slammed shut and there was silence, broken only by Sam's emphatic boot steps up the stairs, down the hallway, and into Dean's room. He finally let go of Dean to push through the door. He stamped to the center of the room and turned. "I'm going to kiss you," Sam said.

Even though Dean had been thinking of nothing much else but Sam since he met him, his stomach flipped. He took a faltering step back, stammered "I...okay, I, unh, see, I never kissed a guy. I've jerked a dude off, yeah, and one time fucked a guy, but that was...it had been a long time, and it was dark and-oh Jeezus-"

"Please for fucks sake, just stop," Sam said. "I get it. You're so not a homo, you're a big old straight guy and you'd never."

"Well. I'm not sure about that anymore. I mean, I think about you a lot. I think I'd like it if you kissed me."

Sam rolled his eyes and kicked out, almost hitting Dean in the shin, but Dean had reflexes like a puma and easily avoided Sam's gigantic feet. "Well, isn't that great? Here's the thing, though. I'm not here to let you test the waters. I had all the johns I'm gonna have in my life. You...I want this, this, whatever it is two people can have. I just want you, and me, and no contract stuff, is what I mean."

Dean stared at Sam and then tilted his head skyward. "You hearin' this? We haven't even gone on one date and he's tryin' to hobble me."

"Sheeech, I'm not trying to hobble you, dork. Don't need to. You're already mine." Sam held out his arms, showing off another of Dean's shirts, a gray flannel-Dean frowned. When had that one gone missing? Sam just smirked at him, said, "Some part of me knew before I knew...I knew. Shut up. I mean, we'll never be life-mated-our species difference won't allow for that-but there's some kind of biological click between us for sure."

Dean nodded. Yeah, they'd definitely clicked, alright. He'd never felt this instant attraction, this instant interest in anyone else. But he had a free life, made his own decisions since he was sixteen, had relationships-or something like them, and knew what it was like to care for someone besides himself. He couldn't begin to imagine how a kid like Sam, who only knew life was shit and sex was pain and humiliation, could trust that Dean wouldn't fuck him over at some point. What did he know about trust?

Sam looked thoughtful now, said almost as if he was talking to himself, "Seli said my father was nice, she really liked him. She said he was sad to leave her. She looked sad when she said it. I think..." Sam looked up again, his tone gone firm,"...given a chance, things can be good between beings and you've treated me like your equal since you saved me."

"But...what happens when we get to Sioux Falls, and you meet other people, other supers? It'll be a brand new life. You might not want me around anymore."

"Maybe," Sam shrugged. "But that's a maybe. Taking a chance on a maybe good enough for you?"

Dean stared at the boy. Well shit. It wasn't exactly hallelujah, you and me come hell or high water but right now it had to be good enough for him. "Come here, then."

Sam walked over to him, moving like he was setting out to check the perimeter, not a single bit of the seductive little brat he's picked up what felt like a lifetime ago. Yeah, but it made his heart sing.

Alright, Dean thought. Maybe was more than fucking good enough for him if it got him this now.

Sam took his face between his giant, but elegant hands. So much misery in his life, but Sam could still make his touch delicate. Dean's eyes danced over his face, taking in everything about his boy; beautiful sea-green eyes, skin like honey that begged 'taste me', cheeks and lips tinted peaches and cream; he'd come to love the way Sam's elegant eyes brows curved in a question, and the question was-

"Oh, hell yeah," Dean breathed, leaned forward and pressed a tiny kiss to the beauty spot next to Sam's nose. "Yeah," he whispered again, "It's more than okay, please, kiss me-"

Sam cut him off with a kiss, perfect, warm, soft lips pressed against his. Dean stiffened-no, no, okay, this was okay. This was...this wasn't some guy, this was the guy. The guy who wore his clothes, and slept in his bed. The guy who rubbed his dick against him and whimpered in his sleep, but jumped up in the morning like nothing ever happened. The guy who was sucking his tongue like he really wanted to be sucking Dean's dick, and Dean's dick was totally on board with that. His lips sliding against Sam's felt like perfection-the friction easing by the second, the warmth making his mouth feel oversensitive and he loved it. He gripped Sam's hips and pulled him closer, trying to line their dicks up-he could feel the hot, hard brand of Sam's against his leg.

"Whew." Sam stepped back. "Hey, not trying to piss you off, but..I can't right now, is that okay?"

Dean shuddered and swallowed a disappointed moan before working up a pretty good smile. "Yeah, of course it's...look, this is your call. I'm grown, I know how to deal with." He motioned at his obvious hard-on, and Sam smirked for a second before doing that thing where his eyebrows rose, making his fox-eyes little round, innocent windows into his soul, full of 'i'msorrylovemeyouokay?'

Hesitantly, like he was expecting Dean to flip a table or something, Sam said, "I just. I want some time, need some, before you and me, y'know?"

"Oh my Jeez, sure, you want to date! I mean, 'course you do, never been on one, right? You should. We will. Ah...do you know what a date is?"

"Yes, Dean, I know what a date is. And, ah, thanks. I get going slow is kinda stupid when you look at my whole stupid life, but yeah."

"It's not stupid at all. I tell you, I get it. It's just. I've never either. Dated, that is."

"What?" Sam stared at him, biting his lip, and then shook his head as he smiled. "Guess we'll be each other's first."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. You're embarrassing yourself."

Sam grinned wide, picked Dean up and tossed him onto the bed, before jumping on top of Dean. "You like it."

"Fuck off, and stop manhandling me, Jeez."

From where he was smashing his face into the crook of Dean's neck, Sam snickered, said, "sure. I can feel you smiling. You love it."

=@=

The pack moved on a few days later, Fast stopping to carefully give Sam a few hints about changing-all the while keeping a watchful eye on Dean. It was kind of funny, really. But Sam was glad the pack moved on.

And, just like he promised, Dean and Sam began dating...which was probably like no dates I the history of dating Dean figured, but what the hell. Neither he nor Sam were average kind of beings, so it kind of fit….

Sam was sitting on the counter, long, gorgeous legs wrapped around Dean's waist, and rolling his hips against him, just perfect to rub their dicks together, a hot back and forth as Sam explored every delicious inch of his mouth, rubbing the tip of his tongue against Dean's teeth, stroking over the roof of his mouth, sliding tongue against tongue; like wet, hot, velvet. When he abruptly pulled back, Dean couldn't help whining in disappointment.

"Fuck, Dean. You are too damn hot. Eggs are burning."

"What…?" Dean wrinkled his face, trying to understand what Sam meant, and feeling more than a little freaked. Did he mean..."You got eggs? What the fuck?"

Sam looked at him like he was insane. "Your eggs, idiot. The ones you were cooking when I came in?" He hopped off the counter and Dean lost a minute watching the sway of a pretty impressive dick under the thin cotton of Dean's old boxers. The movement painted a wide swath of wet down the front. Dean cupped his own dick, squeezing the head through his boxers. Sam swept past him, gathering up the smoking frying pan. "There's another breakfast down the tubes," he muttered.

"Stop fucking ambushing me in the kitchen, then." Dean figured that counted as dates one, two, and three-at least that's how many breakfasts they'd tanked. He grinned at Sam. Damn, they were good at this dating thing.

=@=

Sunlight pushed through the slats of the window blinds, striping Sam light and dark, like a tiger, Dean thought, and snorted. He had a temper like one, for sure.

Dean carefully, slowly moved Sam's legs apart, listening for a change in his breathing. He had no idea what made him want to wake the guy up like this, besides the thought that he'd like, it, what guy wouldn't? He knelt between Sam's spread legs, mouthing the head of his dick.

Sam woke with a snort, then his hand shot out to wrap tight around Dean's neck. His eyes were wide, and panicked before darkening, but not with lust.

"Oh shit," Dean thought. Sam looked like...he tried to swallow, and with Sam's hand pressing down on his neck, it felt like trying to swallow a rock.

Sam blinked and blinked before his eyes finally softened and he exhaled slowly. "JeezusSorcerer, I thought I was back there for a minute...fuck." He let go of Dean's neck, and sat up in bed. His boxers were pulled down some, where Dean had eased them to his thighs. He wiggled them the rest of the way off, before sitting up to rub at his face. After a few seconds he looked at Dean, still frozen in place at the end of the bed, his hands open on his thighs so Sam could see he wasn't about to touch a damn thing. "You okay?" Sam asked.

"Me? Are you okay? Fuck, I'm so sorry, I'm an idiot. I thought…"

"No, it's okay. I just...maybe not do that, at least, not for a while."

Dean scooted up the bed, leaning on Sam's hips. "You call the shots. That way I won't fuck up."

"You didn't fuck up-you didn't know. And don't say you should have or I'll knee you in the balls."

"I just want to take care of you."

"You do. More than you could ever know. Now that I'm awake, though, and this didn't go back to sleep…" Sam stroked himself, those elegant fingers wrapping around his dick, making Dean want to chase them with his tongue. And he had permission to. So he did.

He took Sam back in his mouth, tracing around the head with his tongue, rolling it over the crown and then, trying to get the tip of his tongue inside the little pink mouth. Went back to sucking, doing his best to shove Sam down his throat because he loved it, and licking up what seemed like rivers of precome. He had found it hot that Sam got wetter than a girl, right from the start, and then had been shocked to find out he loved Sam's taste, too.

He pulled back to lick at the mess on his chin, and Sam stopped him. "Leave it, so fucking hot on you, you have you have no idea."

Dean growled; the grip he had on himself was so perfect he thought he might die. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath came short and choppy. He rubbed his face along the wet length of Sam's dick, glazed with his own spit, and Sam's precome. He imagined what a picture he must make to Sam, chin and cheeks and even his damn forehead dripping 'cause he had to get in between his cheeks and lick and suck that little dusky hole until Sam cried, and thinking about that was all it took for him to finish-he came all over the sheets, and Sam's leg.

"JeezDamn!" Sam's beautiful damn dick jerked in Dean's grip, coming before Dean could stuff him back in his mouth, his release jetting out over Dean's chin, while Dean did his best to capture it and swallow it all down. All the while Sam was cursing vehemently under his breath, and that had Dean's dick doing it's best to jerk back to life, had him hissing with how soon it was.

"Hoo-oly fuckin' shit…" Dean forced his hand open-he was starting to hurt himself.

Sam looked down, eyebrows arched high, mouth bent in a smile. "You're getting so good at that."

"Well...thanks, I guess? You make it easy, you're so fucking hot."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, it's all me, sure it is." He pulled Dean up onto the bed. "Hold me," he demanded. "And do that thing where you rub the back of my neck, while thinking you're the luckiest guy in the world."

"Ass!" Dean laughed.

Pretty damn good date.

=@=

They were sitting on the rabid-bearskin rug in front of the fireplace, content with watching the flames crackle, and soaking in the warmth. Sam had the ratty strawberry blanket pulled up to his chin, and Dean finally worked up the nerve to ask the question he'd had since the first time he'd seen it.

"Why do you carry that-that blanket around with you?"

Sam held it out, looking at it like he'd never seen it before, and then smiled. "I know it looks like a rag to you, but it's mine. It's the first thing I ever owned, and was almost the last. My second owner sent me into what was left of a store to retrieve goods, didn't want to deal with it since he thought it was being squatted by ghouls. My job was to get in the place, toss out whatever good stuff I could find as fast as I could-there was still good scavenging back in those days. No villages like now. Ghouls, and rawheads, rugarus, and monsters like them still roamed the streets. And there were still Eaters."

Dean nodded. He remembered Eaters, and how all the old people used to say they were like zombies, only not dead. That they'd chase you like a lion after a gazelle and not just eat your brains, but your face, and your skull; anything they could get their teeth on. Bobby said the Menaletters weren't sure where they came from-whether the humans made them by accident, or a sorcerer unwittingly hit on a replicating curse...thankthagoodJeezus all it took was a machete to the scrawny neck to take it out-if you were fast enough.

"There were so many of them when I was a pup, and then, boom, hardly anything."

Dean muttered, "JeezThank" under his breath-he remembered being stuck on a rooftop once, watching those skeletal things darting around, claw-like mitts ripping and tearing at anything they touched, including each other. Fucking creepy screeching; made him wish he was deaf. He was damn glad they weren't around anymore.

"Yeah. Bobby thinks whatever caused them to be, also burned them out eventually-they just lived too fast."

"Fuck yeah, they were fast." Sam shivered. "That night in the store, it was like getting overrun with cockroaches-like someone flipped on a light and there they were, running all over like crazy."

"Roaches!" Dean shuddered-both at the idea of Eaters running that horrible, hop-skitter they did at top speed, and cockroaches-fucking hell, he hated fucking roaches so fucking much. He became aware that his face was twisted in disgust, and Sam was looking at him like he'd lost his mind.

"They're just bugs, dude. Anyway...I was fast, and little, and cagey as fuck. I got out of the store, led the Eaters right at that sonofabitch and got back to the safety of my cage on the back of the truck with the last item I grabbed-this blanket. Man, that asshole was mad, but he made it out alive, just missing the tips of a few fingers. That asshole beat the skin off my back, but eventually, that grew back. Him, they called him Stumpy ever after that." Sam laughed, rubbed the blanket against his face.

"I love this blanket. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw-pink and red and white, and I wanted to be the little girl so bad. She looked beautiful and happy, with her pretty dress and stockings. I figured if a person looked like that, then their life was probably great all the time. What a disappointment to find out that wasn't true."

Dean tilted his head, and opened his mouth to ask what Sam meant, but Sam ignored him. "Every time I got sold on, I stole it with; sometimes I was allowed to take it. It's old and ugly now, just like me, but I'll always love it."

"Sam...I'd tell you you're young and beautiful and will only get even more beautiful the older you get, but you probably wouldn't believe me so...just do me a favor and stop being mean to yourself. It hurts me."

Sam stared back at Dean, a speculative look in his eyes. "Okay...okay, I will."

Dean counted it as a good date even if he cried. Quietly. To himself. In the shower.

=@=

Sam

"S...A.." Sam went on to write out his first name, and carefully, laboriously, spelled out his last-temporary, he knew. No matter what Dean thought now, he was going to get tired of him sooner or later and take it back, but for right now, this meant everything to him. Belonging. Claimed. Claimed for life, whether Dean cared or not.

"...E. S. T. E. R." Sam Winchester. He stared down at the paper, smiling, and suddenly Dean's warm self was stretched over Sam's back.

"I like that," he murmured, and then, he straddled Sam where he lay face down on the bed, curved calves cradling Sam's ass perfectly.

He pulled up Sam's shirt, and eased the top of his pants down so that the curve of his ass was exposed. Sam shivered, feeling Dean's eyes on him. Dean poked his finger into the small of Sam's back, dragged it own until it touched the swell of his ass. Moved it in sweeping curves. It took a second before Sam realized Dean was tracing out letters on his skin, over and over. He closed his eyes and concentrated and he was pretty sure Dean was writing an M, an I...a...an N? Oh! Mine. He'd written 'mine' on Sam's back. And was sure that Sam couldn't tell, so Sam said nothing.

Dean kissed along the line of what he'd written, but just like Sam figured, never spoke the word out loud.

=@=

They were sitting in Lucille's bed, passing a thermos full of hot tea back and forth, their down jackets replaced by canvas now since the weather had taken a turn towards warmer. All indications pointed towards WinterDay's end.

The area around the truck was punctuated with widening black patches of wet grass and mud. The roof of the cabin was dry and black, and most of the trees waved now bare black branches at a blueish-gray sky. The wet, warm wind blew past them, a warning of coming SpringDay; a short, wet season made up of rain and mosquitoes and wet clinging heat. Yep, Sam thought, can't wait.

Lucille's doors were open, so he could hear the tape playing; he hummed along as the singer belted out a song Dean called Laydown. There was a meaning to the song, he'd said, something that had been really important to his dad, but he didn't remember what it was anymore. Memory was like that. Either too fucking clear, or too damn cloudy.

There was something about the song, though, that sent chills through Sam. "It's… it's really good. Sad, but hopeful, too."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, it is...you know, time's almost up, Sammy," he said." Another month, maybe less, we'll be able to head down this hill."

"Yeah…" Sam sat up and elbowed Dean, hard enough to rock him. "So, I'm thinking, shouldn't this be our last date? I think it's time we be...together."

Dean frowned, and Sam winced. He knew his tone hadn't quite matched his words, and Dean picked up on that.

Sure enough, Dean asked. "Are you sure? Because you know I don't mind waiting. I love everything we've done so far, and I'm fine-"

"I'm ready to have sex." Sam fixed Dean with a steely gaze, lips pressed firmly in a 'I'm so serious' line.

"Ready to have sex? What the hell we been doing?" Dean asked, forehead creased. "I mean, those were some serious blowjobs. And class-A handjobs, I can tell you that." He flexed his hand dramatically. "I'm pretty damn good if I say so myself. Really, though," he mused, "if anyone had have ever told me a day would come that I'd be face-down in my pillow screaming for some fucking class-A dude to eat me like I'm candy and hold my ass open for them, well, I'd have, I'd have...not believed them, that's for sure."

Sam laughed, instantly relaxing, and Dean grinned at him proudly, like he’d acted the doofus just to ease Sam’s mind-and it worked, the bastard. "You are like candy," Sam winked. "Okay, so you're not bad. And dude, by this time you know every inch of my ass from the inside and the out; those fingers of yours are magic."

"Barring the kinda gross image, thanks." Dean wiggled his fingers at Sam. "Just call me Magic Fingers," he said. "And I'll call you...Magic Tongue. Or not," he frowned.

"Stop wandering from the main point, you." Sam reached in the truck and switched her off, and grabbed Dean before he could complain. It was okay, though, manhandling kind of revved Dean up, no matter how he tried to play it off. Sam marched him across the yard, pushed through the cabin door without missing a step or loosening his grip, herded Dean up the stairs to their bedroom, and then stripped them both, ignoring his small yelps-as if a hunter couldn’t handle a few pokes or five-and his hands slapping away at him like, a disgruntled cat.

It was kinda cute.

He let Dean go and eased his way onto the bed, and automatically leaned back, signaling everything was for sale-and caught himself. He winced, muttering, fuck under his breath. Here he was screwing things up...and why? All their silly dates had gone well, and all the things they'd done so far had come pretty easy...why this?

"Hey...you’re sexy as fuck, you know that," Dean smiled at him, and the way he looked, like he was glad to have Sam in his bed-almost, fuck, grateful. That, and the genuine affection in Dean’s expression, made Sam actually feel sexy, like, for the first time ever in his life, sex was something he really wanted. At least, something he really wanted with Dean. Sex with Dean would make him feel...truly claimed.

"Come on, come here," he said, "Take what's yours."

Dean's face went bright red, and Sam watched, fascinated, as the red flush that darkened his cheeks, rushed down his neck, spread across his chest and down, pointing directly to his rock-hard, dark-red dick, so hard it swayed with every breath Dean took. He bit his lips nervously as he cupped himself, staring at Sam's spread legs, and stumbled forward when Sam called him over.

"Are you nervous? Don’t be nervous-you know me. Jeezus knows, you know this ass."

Dean barked out a laugh that cracked the uncertainty, the tension; he fell on Sam, kissing, kissing him until Sam's head was spinning-his mouth felt hot and swollen, and his dick, trapped against Dean’s, was spilling precome like a river.

Sam ended up with one leg wrapped over Dean's shoulder, and Dean pushing spit-slick fingers inside him, slowly thrusting in and out, then switching to one finger in and a thumb rubbing against Sam's taint, until he finally pushed Dean back, groaning, "Get in, fuck me."

"Romantic," Dean smiled, and lined up and slid in, Sam groaning with the deep-felt pleasure. Dean rocked slowly back and forth, dragging pleasure out of Sam in a way he’d never imagine could happen from getting fucked. They fucked slow and leisurely, despite Sam yelling faster, harder, and getting a lecture on slow and enjoy, before Dean slowed everything down even more. He reached out for the familiar little tube of slick on the bedside table. Sam complained, "I'm okay, I swear. Feel good."

Dean huffed, ″For now. Just cause I don’t have a lot of experience with guys, don’t mean I lack experience in this. In a couple of minutes it'll get dry and it won't be as easy or as nice-" he groaned and rocked back slowly, taking his time; Sam felt like his whole body was wrapped around Dean’s dick, and didn’t want to let go. "Fuck, this is damn nice...let’s make it better."

"You can make this better? How?"

"Well, you know. Slick. Like...we use with my fingers?"

"Ah…" Like he had with Luther...he had to admit it was a good experience, it did make a difference. Luther had been hot. "Will it make it better for you, too?"

Dean snorted, but just poured some lube into his hand and slicked up first himself, and then Sam, taking the time to really wet him. When he slid back in Sam groaned longer, louder than even before. It felt amazing, even better than with Luther. He probably shouldn't say that out loud. Instead, Sam blurt out everything he felt about Dean, because Dean had to know what he was doing to Sam. "Oh, shit, Dean, fuck, that's good, filling me, and so hot, thick, better than anyone-Dean! Jeezus, Jeezus, fuck me!"

Dean shuddered, muttered, "Yeah, okay, okay…" He poured a little more slick onto his shaft and slid forward all in one endless glide, shaking when he stopped, took a moment to inhale, smile down at Sam, and then fuck him, deeper, harder.

Each slide in felt like Dean was reaching for his heart, the thick slide inside of him made him lift his hips to meet it, like if he pushed forward, Dean would go even deeper. Sam wrapped his legs around him tightly, instinct driving him to keep Dean close as he could. The heat of Dean's skin against his, so smooth, wet with sweat, so they slid and twisted against each other, making Sam hold Dean harder, until Dean broke away, threw his head back and shouted Sam's name, quivering and shaking, grinding down, hard as he could.

Sam swore he felt Dean swell inside him, his dick jerk and heat fill him...it was nothing like anything he'd ever felt before. "Dean-oh fuck, I feel, I feel you…"

Dean shook again, "Oh, fuck, baby, you're killing me." He bucked once, hard, falling down on Sam, Sam felt his knuckles rub against Dean's belly as he jerked himself off, taking seconds to come in a long wash between them, heat washing up to his chest, and the slide going even slicker. Fuck-

The first time ever in his life, the first time in all the many, many years of doing sex, it felt real. Felt like being alive. Felt like coming home.



phoenix1966

Chapter nine