The Strangest Kind: Chapter Two
The Strangest Kind
By Ebony_Quill
Rated Overall: NC-17
Rated For Chapter Two: Hard R
Summary: Dean Winchester and his father are called to an old friend's house, where Dean meets Sam Hawk. They team up together as his father investigates Azazel on his own. What is Sam hiding from Dean, other than an insane attraction? Note: They are not brothers in this fic, but still have all the hot steamyness to make up for it!
Rating For Chapter Two: Hard R
Chapter 2: A Graceless Savior
“So, what’s next?”
What’s next? How about you and I make some good use of that hotel off the exit and - Dean shook his head and pushed his thoughts away once again, for the fifteen thousandth time.
It had been two months, two months, since Dean’s father had left to do whatever his little hunter heart had been set on doing alone and Sam and Dean had been hunting alone together. They had been alone together for that long, and what do they do?
Hunt. And ignore that big fuckin’ neon orange elephant (also known as their attraction for one another) like it was the Black Death. Like it was a bad thing for two sexy hot blooded young males to lust after one another.
Dean had tried to let things run their own course, he knew that Sam was still hurting after the loss of his mother, and he knew that they would eventually hook up after he figured out that Sam wasn’t exactly straight either. He tried to be patient; he really did, but…
It seemed that every time they got close to something - hell, anything - that resembled a tense sexual moment, Sam would back off for some reason. Most of the time with a lame excuse, and other times he didn’t even bother. Dean wanted to ask if Sam planned to become an abstinent monk sometime in the near future with the way he was avoiding the situation. Dean had yet to see the real problem with their relationship developing that way, considering how well they worked and even sometimes talked with one another.
“My dad sent us a hunt this time, over in Colorado. They’ve been having missing reports of hikers in the area for a few months on three separate trips,” Dean answered.
“Any idea of what it could be?”
“There were no remains of the victims found reported so far, and no strange sightings either. Not even a damn bear or wild cat,” Dean shook his head.
“What’s the place called?” Sam asked, reaching into the back seat and pulling out his laptop bag.
“Barton’s Wildlife Preserve,” Dean said, “It’s a big place for campers and naturalists, so the park ranger is considering closing the area off to visitors for a while until they can find the bodies or the ‘animal’ that’s causing all of this,”
Sam’s laptop screen glowed against his features in the fading evening light. He studied the information on the Preserve for a few moments before saying, “Yeah, it must be pretty popular to actually have its own website. Says you can pan for gold or even go hang gliding,”
“Hang gliding?” Dean questioned out loud.
“Mmm-hmm. Off of Chai Point; the preserve seems to have a lot of cliffs in the area that make it a hot spot for that kind of thing. The site says that it’s off limits until further notice, though…Do you think that that’s where the disappearances happened?”
“Sounds like it, even if they’re trying to keep the whole situation hush-hush. Guess they had to close it if their customers were suddenly disappearing.”
“Should we look their first? After we talk with the park ranger, of course,”
“Of course. So, who are we this time? FBI or State Police?”
“I’d go with the state police. You like being FBI way too much.”
“Hey! That badge took forever to get right,” Dean defended, “And people don’t ask the FBI too many questions,”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s the only reason you like playing FBI, Agent Winchester,” Sam rolled his eyes.
That title sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. “You know you love it,” He smiled cockily.
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The state trooper they met was housed in a cabin adjacent to the reception building at the forefront of the Preserve. It was late afternoon when they arrived, flashing their badges at the grisly man’s door and requesting the information on the missing persons.
“There’s not much else I can tell you,” the trooper, introduced as Rick, rubbed his chin in bashful embarrassment, “The five search parties we sent out came up empty handed, and after the seventh person went missing, we closed the hang gliding option down to all tourists. No one local has gone gliding since, either.”
“Were all the missing persons tourists?” Sam asked, posing as Officer John Harker.
“No, the first two to disappear were local thrill seekers. Reese and Mark Green, brothers. It was a real tragedy, ‘specailly seein’ as their bodies are still missing. Can’t even have a proper funeral, and their families are hurting somethin’ awful.” Rick sighed.
Dean and Sam shared a look. “We’ll see if we can’t find them, sir.” Dean told the man.
“Hope your luck is better then ours has been, officers. Call me if you find anything,” Rick said.
“We will,” Sam assured, and they began their hunt in earnest.
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“Do you see anymore?” Sam called out.
“No, nothing over here,” Dean answered, loading his flare gun in the fading twilight. They had found three or four distinct tracks of the creature, which happened to be a Windego, near the top of the ridge after following a set from the bottom of the cliff on a little used trial.
The height was making Dean nervous, and he twitched involuntarily every time he noticed how close Sam was to the ledge. The tall brunette seemed to take no heed of the impressive drop just inches from his foothold, though.
“Hey, there’s something buried here…” Sam knelt near a large rock and started to dig in with his fingers gently.
“What is it?” Dean came up behind Sam, looking over his shoulder.
“I think it’s a…Swiss Army Knife?” Sam pulled it free, brushing the dirt from the silver handle. “R. Green…Guess this was where the brothers must have been attacked.”
“And where the Windego’s hunting ground is…We should get out of here for tonight, we’ve stayed too long anyway,” Dean looked around sharply, noting how fast the light was making the forest surrounding them much more menacing with the prospect of an attacker they would not be able to see.
“Yeah, we should have left an hou- Wait! Did you see that?” Sam’s eyes darted behind them and through the tree line. There was a sound of a quick crunch of leaves and bushes rubbing against each other. At first it seemed like the disturbance came from directly to their right, but then it started again ten feet to their left.
Dean and Sam’s breaths were shallow and controlled. Both of their flare guns were at the ready, trained steady at the shifting foliage. It was ironic, Sam thought, as their ‘job’ title was hunter, and more often then not they were the ones who were treated as prey.
The sudden and long quiet did not settle their nerves, their muscles tensing further in practiced meditation and preparation for the imminent strike of their pursuer. The grey beast finally did leap at them, charging straight for Dean and dodging only minimally to the left and down to evade their shots. Sam jumped out to his right and fired again, hitting its side just below the heart and the body burst into flames.
But it was too late.
“DEAN!” Sam cried, reaching out futilely over the edge of the ridge.
Dean had moved a step back and tried to dodge to his left, tripping over a half-hidden root and cursed his luck. The now fiery form of the monster slammed into Dean, sending the two of them flying off the cliff and into the chasm of forested darkness. Dean yelled out, his shout ending abruptly as he used the last of his momentum to shove the burning body away from him. His jacket had protected him for the most part, and none of his clothing had been able to catch fire in the wind velocity of the fall.
Sam reacted without thought. After his shock had shaken his mind, the chilling recognition that he might lose Dean washed over him like a shot of pure caffeine.
He jumped after Dean, shooting downwards like a bullet with outstretched arms. Dean seemed like he was floating in mid-air with the rate that Sam was catching up to him. Once his hands grabbed Dean’s back and he had a firm hold on his panicking partner, Sam let loose his true form.
Dean could not believe his eyes.
At first, he barely registered Sam’s shout over the knowledge that he was going to die. On the forest floor of some random Wildlife Preserve in the middle of nowhere.
Splat. Or CRUNCH, depending on which part of him hit the ground first.
Then Sam was above him, falling faster than he was and heading on a collision course with Dean. Had Dean not been practically hyperventilating, or about to die himself, he would have screamed at Sam for being a suicidal moron. But then Sam’s arms were around him, and he couldn’t breathe for a whole different reason.
“Hold on,” Sam’s voice said in his ear. His hands wrapped around Sam’s waist on command. And he saw…
White. They were pulled up harshly, and all the air was stolen from Dean’s lungs as Sam’s wings ruffled in the wind resistance.
Wings? Dean gasped as the oxygen returned around them; time slowing like it was making up for the near death experience. And Sam was flying, fuck; they were flying, because of Sam’s wings.
Dean felt like he had been kept out of a very important secret, but the only thing he could think was, Huh, so this is why he’s so stand-offish most of the time…
Dean was still breathing harshly as they touched down on the ground moments, an eternity, later. Besides being completely breathless, all Dean could accomplish was staring at Sam.
Sam still had his arms around Dean, and Dean hadn’t relented his grasp either. Their blood was pumping frantically, as if they were still spiraling towards demise. When Dean finally let go and stepped away slightly, he blinked and stared some more.
Beautiful…
Sam may have well have been an angel-
“Dean?” Sam asked timidly at the strangled gasp that left Dean’s mouth.
“What-what are you?” Dean said brokenly, throat dry and constricting in spasms.
Sam looked genuinely hurt. The great, fifteen foot wings fell limp, almost brushing the forest floor.
“An angel,” Sam said bluntly. His voice was dead, and his eyes were dark.
“Angels don’t have wings - I’ve met them before.” Dean gazed in wonder at the white wings shimmering in the moon light. He tried to get his head on straight, but the rush of adrenaline and shock of the new development mixed up his thoughts.
“Yeah, well, I’m special,” Sam said bitterly. He glared at the appendages growing from his back. They had ripped through his shirt, and he tore off the rest of it in utter frustration.
“I’ll say,” Dean breathed out, stepping towards Sam.
Sam looked at Dean closely, judging the older man’s reactions carefully now. “I’m half-angel; my mother married one after they met a year before. That’s why I have wings. Full-fledged angels have to use vessels to speak with humans most of the time, so their wings are hidden. My true form won’t blind people, so you can see mine without getting hurt.”
“Makes sense…” Dean said, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you tell us from the beginning?”
Sam sighed. “I didn’t know that you had met any angels before; most hunters just think that they’re myth anyway. Truthfully, I just didn’t want to end up with a bullet in my chest,”
“I can see why you would think that…” Dean sighed as well.
Silence.
“Half-angel huh?” Dean chuckled, “Great pick-up line material,”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “I tell you that I’m half-angel, and you find a way to turn it into a sexual innuendo. Typical,” Sam had to laugh a little too.
“So…”
“So…?”
“Can I touch them?” Dean’s eyes shone with renewed curiosity. It was Sam’s turn to stare intently.
“Sure…” Sam stood stock still as Dean approached him, watching Dean’s face as he looked at the wings.
Dean reached out his hand and his fingers lightly brushed the feathers on Sam’s right wing. Sam tensed, but Dean didn’t notice Sam’s reaction until he used his entire hand to pet Sam’s wing. Sam’s whole body seemed to shudder under the attention. His wing pressed into the contact and his eyes slid closed.
“So soft…” Dean continued his ministrations, alternating between hands as he carefully manipulated the wing in his touch.
“They’re not as delicate as they look,” Sam breathed, trying to focus on something other than the feeling of Dean’s hands on his wing.
“I’ll bet,” Dean said, finally looking at Sam’s face. He watched as the strong jaw line tensed and then relaxed, lips parting as Dean’s fingers delved deeper into the wings.
“Is…is this why you’re so distant from me?” Dean asked quietly, wanting to smack himself for how weak the question sounded.
“Well, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth. I didn’t want to hurt you by not telling you, but…Damn,” Sam sighed, clearing his head from the fog of comfort and slight arousal. “I was just afraid,”
“Of what? Me? It’s not like I would have rejected you just cause you have wings,” Dean laughed, “I’d actually like a pair myself, if it wasn’t for the whole fear of flying thing,”
“No one else knows except my mother,” Sam opened one eye, “And when she first found out when I was eight, she cried,”
Dean winced, trying to imagine what it would feel like to face that kind of abstract rejection from his own father. Again, the foreign urge to comfort invaded his system and he reached out and embraced Sam.
“For what its worth,” he pulled back, “I think you’re the most gorgeous angel I’ve ever met,”
With the way Dean stated that, and the way his eyes locked into Sam’s, Sam didn’t have a chance. He blushed hard under the attention, smirking ruefully, “And probably the most emotional,”
Dean laughed at that comment. “I’ll give you that one,” His hand swept over the wing again, and Sam shuddered harder.
“Am I hurting you?” Dean asked, half-sarcastically. He brushed the wing harder, and Sam bit his lip, shaking his head quickly.
“Didn’t think that your wings would be that sensitive…” Dean whispered in Sam’s ear, the heated breath making Sam inhale sharply.
“Me neither…Believe me,” Sam groaned softly as Dean breathed out against his neck. Dean knew that he was taking advantage Sam in some way; obviously his wings were another erogenous zone for him. But he felt that Sam had given into him, and if Sam really didn’t want this to go any further, than he would stop Dean.
He began to kiss up Sam’s neck, suckling lightly and nipping his jaw line before claiming Sam’s mouth in a slightly forceful kiss.
To which, Sam replied heatedly. His hands moved to grasp Dean’s shoulders as Dean smoothed his over Sam’s chest, enjoying the labored movement beneath his fingers. He pulled Sam closer when his tongue was allowed inside Sam’s mouth, curling and sliding against Sam’s. His blunt nails scraped down Sam’s spine, in between his wings as Sam moved his hands down Dean’s back and cupped his ass firmly.
Dean found he loved Sam like this. All of the brunette’s sexual frustration was brought to the surface and he lavished Dean with a ferocity that Dean had only dreamed of a few times before. It seemed Sam was a passionate lover, rough and almost greedy, that completely enveloped Dean in a heady, delicious tear cloud of pleasure and lust he never wanted to escape from. This was how he wanted a lover, raw and demanding, unafraid to dominate or submit, because that kind of give and take promised for provocative and imaginative foreplay.
Especially with the way they would fight for who would take the top. A win-win situation that they seldom would ever see in any other area of their lives.
They broke from their kiss at the same time, Dean resting his forehead against Sam’s shoulder.
“We’ll search for the bodies tomorrow,” Sam said, trying to bite back his intense reactions to Dean’s touch. He would not lie; it had been absolute torture trying to evade Dean’s advances over the last month and a half.
Not even the mention of mutilated corpses deterred Dean’s arousal. All that was going through his head like a mantra was, Get Sam on a bed NOW, Bed NOW, Bed NOW…hey, the motel has a bed…Or would Sam mind a little on top of the Impala?
“Yeah, tomorrow,” Dean agreed absently. He was shaken from his ‘fun’ thoughts when he gazed at Sam’s wings once more.
“What about…?”
“Oh, these?” Sam glanced at his back, “Watch,”
The wings pulled inward, folding behind Sam with a small ‘whoosh’. They were long enough that they crossed the bottom when bent. A gentle shimmer of the moon’s light reflected in small waves, and the wings seemed to dances out of sight.
“Damn…” Dean stared at the empty space where the wings had been.
“What?” Sam asked cautiously.
“Wish I had a pair,” Dean grinned, “It’s like your own personal jet pack or something,”
Sam had to smile back, “You read to many comics as a kid,”
“As a kid? Who said I ever stopped? Action movies are just like moving comic books to me,” Dean laughed, and Sam felt more carefree than he had since his mother had been healthy. Since he was a child, even.
“And horror movies are what? Your life story?” Sam chuckled.
“Only the good ones, cause if The Exorcist was anything like what we have to deal with, I think I would have shot myself a long time ago…” Dean made a face at the thought.
XXXXXXXXXX
They got back to the motel an hour later, and threw all conversation out the window. Dean knew his secret, the one insecurity he really had, and Dean was okay with it. Understanding, consoling and even happy that he knew.
He whispered amazing as he pressed his hands against Sam’s upper back, as he pulled Sam down on top of him and they fell on the bed. Their shirts and pants were bunched up in a pile near the door, and the heat that consumed the two before returned in a whirlwind, bringing them clashing together in lips and teeth and tongue and skin and nails and delicious sensation.
Their closeness only intensified the rush of pleasure and the slight frustration of their last barrier: the boxers still had to be removed. It was just as quick, as fast as the rest of their journey back to the motel, a hurried pulling and flinging and they were completely bare to one another.
As soon as they came together again though, the world slowed to a sloth’s pace. Dean’s breath seemed heavier, mingling with Sam’s before their mouths touched and caressed in a torturously unhurried way. Sam’s hands ran over Dean’s sides, down, down, before sliding over his ass and cupping there. The pressure increased between them, rocking against one another urgently. Dean moaned as Sam suckled on his pulse just above his collar bone, his tongue and teeth moving over the most sensitive spots on his neck. Dean’s hand combed through the long brown hair and then clawed harshly down Sam’s back, making Sam arch harder in between Dean’s hips.
And then, all sense of time was lost to the two. They ground harder and harder together, moaning and gasping at all the sensations from their lips and hands. Just as Dean thought that he couldn't get any hotter, go any higher, Sam cried out in release and he peaked as the warm wetness flushed over his cock, biting down hard into Sam’s shoulder. For a few moments, all they could do was breathe.
Sam rolled off of Dean, panting lightly as he stared hazily at the man next to him. Their bodies were cooling quickly, and he shivered in content and utter happiness. Life was good. For now, at least.
Dean turned on his side, facing Sam, “Never thought that would happen…”
“What? Having sex with me, or having sex with an angel?” Sam asked, with faux seriousness. Dean marveled at the way his hazel eyes flashed in amusement.
“Both, actually; though now I feel vaguely evil…” Dean smirked.
Sam laughed, “Don’t worry about that too much, you’ve found an angel that likes to be defiled…especially by a sexy hunter with a wing kink.”
“Damn, that sounds…” Dean shook his head to clear it, somehow vastly turned on by the prospect of defiling the angel next to him again. “That’s about the hottest thing I’ve heard in my life,”
Sam smiled wickedly, tracing his fingers over Dean’s shoulder. “Well…you have me…”
Dean growled, “And just think of all the dirty things I’m going to do with you now that you’re mine,” and pulled Sam into a fierce kiss.
Sam couldn’t help the shudder that ran through him at Dean’s words, feeling Dean pin him to the mattress. Any other thought that he might have had about the situation fled as he responded to Dean whole-heartedly, withholding nothing from the incredible man currently turning Sam into moaning, boneless mess.
They had a fantastic night, to say the least.
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