(no subject)
Title: Surrender
Author: Belah
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 503
Spoilers: Mentions of Play Things, Houses of the Holy
Summary: He wasn’t sure when the feelings started, wasn’t really sure he cared.
He wasn’t sure when the feelings started, wasn’t really sure he cared. He could remember the dreams that had accompanied them and how vivid they’d been, Sam underneath him with his head thrown back in sheer pleasure, the soft whimpers that fell past his lips. But it didn’t stop there; the dreams took on a life of their own, as each waking moment was soon plagued with a desire to make them real. Stolen glances grew more frequent, more desperate until like the dreams, the resulting satisfaction grew less and less. It was like an addiction, each glance; each dream slowly built a tolerance until the dreams turned into fantasies, the glances into light touches. None that Sam had noticed, nor that he heard-the pulsing of the shower or sink drowning out the name that spilled past his lips.
The looks, the barest of touches, the dreams, the fantasies-he knew they could never be made real. The feelings he harbored, the wants they were his cross, just as the visions were Sam’s. He carried them silently, tucked beneath layers upon layers of shields. The job in Connecticut, the night Sam made him promise-swear that he would do what needed to be done; it was more than he could handle. He spent the night tossing and turning, the desire he’d had at that moment to pull Sam’s mouth to his own, to kiss him and caress him, to tell him that he’d protect him-it was like a tooth ache, it throbbed at first but without treatment, the pain began to spread through him eating away at his very being.
Still he didn’t give in, he couldn’t. What would Sam think if he knew the truth, knew how he really felt about him? He’d convinced himself that, that would be a fate far worse than the one he suffered. True, he couldn’t have Sam in the way he wanted, but at least he had him. At least he could protect him. Sam’s safety was more important than his happiness.
At least, that’s what he’d told himself until tonight, until he saw the look of pain on Sam’s face. He’d wanted so bad to believe in the spirit, the angel. He’d done everything in his power to convince Sam otherwise, but in the end-in the end he knew the truth.
“God…God’s will.” He licked his lips, looking down into his brother’s broken eyes.
“Dean…”
He didn’t respond. He just leaned in the short distance, quit fighting and drew a deep breath before his lips pressed firmly to Sam’s. When he made no attempt to pull away, he pressed closer, let his fingers weave firmly into the shaggy strands of brown hair. Their mouths stayed pressed together for what seemed an eternity before finally pulling away for air, both gasping.
“Was it what you’d imagined?” Sam asked quietly, eyes searching over Dean’s face.
He sat there frozen, unsure of how to respond before a slow smile crept across his cheeks. “Even better.”
Author: Belah
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 503
Spoilers: Mentions of Play Things, Houses of the Holy
Summary: He wasn’t sure when the feelings started, wasn’t really sure he cared.
He wasn’t sure when the feelings started, wasn’t really sure he cared. He could remember the dreams that had accompanied them and how vivid they’d been, Sam underneath him with his head thrown back in sheer pleasure, the soft whimpers that fell past his lips. But it didn’t stop there; the dreams took on a life of their own, as each waking moment was soon plagued with a desire to make them real. Stolen glances grew more frequent, more desperate until like the dreams, the resulting satisfaction grew less and less. It was like an addiction, each glance; each dream slowly built a tolerance until the dreams turned into fantasies, the glances into light touches. None that Sam had noticed, nor that he heard-the pulsing of the shower or sink drowning out the name that spilled past his lips.
The looks, the barest of touches, the dreams, the fantasies-he knew they could never be made real. The feelings he harbored, the wants they were his cross, just as the visions were Sam’s. He carried them silently, tucked beneath layers upon layers of shields. The job in Connecticut, the night Sam made him promise-swear that he would do what needed to be done; it was more than he could handle. He spent the night tossing and turning, the desire he’d had at that moment to pull Sam’s mouth to his own, to kiss him and caress him, to tell him that he’d protect him-it was like a tooth ache, it throbbed at first but without treatment, the pain began to spread through him eating away at his very being.
Still he didn’t give in, he couldn’t. What would Sam think if he knew the truth, knew how he really felt about him? He’d convinced himself that, that would be a fate far worse than the one he suffered. True, he couldn’t have Sam in the way he wanted, but at least he had him. At least he could protect him. Sam’s safety was more important than his happiness.
At least, that’s what he’d told himself until tonight, until he saw the look of pain on Sam’s face. He’d wanted so bad to believe in the spirit, the angel. He’d done everything in his power to convince Sam otherwise, but in the end-in the end he knew the truth.
“God…God’s will.” He licked his lips, looking down into his brother’s broken eyes.
“Dean…”
He didn’t respond. He just leaned in the short distance, quit fighting and drew a deep breath before his lips pressed firmly to Sam’s. When he made no attempt to pull away, he pressed closer, let his fingers weave firmly into the shaggy strands of brown hair. Their mouths stayed pressed together for what seemed an eternity before finally pulling away for air, both gasping.
“Was it what you’d imagined?” Sam asked quietly, eyes searching over Dean’s face.
He sat there frozen, unsure of how to respond before a slow smile crept across his cheeks. “Even better.”