Under Wicked Sky (Sam/Dean, Supernatural) NC-17
Title: Under Wicked Sky (The Unforgiven: II)
Author: keepaofthecheez
Characters: Sam/Dean, Sam POV
Rating: NC-17 for language and incest.
Category: Wincest, slash
Word Count: 721
Spoilers: Up to 1x22, Devil’s Trap
Disclaimer: The characters and situations in Supernatural belong to a shit load of people who aren’t me.
Summary: A glance into fucked-upness, Winchester-style.
Notes: Companion/sequel to This Whipping Boy Done Wrong. The two POV’s follow “The Unforgiven” series by Metallica. I’ve uploaded each song with each POV, in case you guys wanna rock out with your cocks out while reading, or whatev.
Lay beside me, under wicked sky
Through black of day, dark of night,
we share this pair of lives
The door cracks open,
but there's no sun shining through
Black heart scarring darker still,
but there's no sun shining through…
-- The Unforgiven II, Metallica
When things finally ended, Sam always knew he’d be the one to leave.
He’d planned for the day; dreamt of the places he’d go, the people he’d meet. The things he’d accomplish. Things that had nothing to do with hunting, or vendettas against bloodthirsty demons.
Things that had nothing to do with Dean.
He’d had a life once, cruelly ripped from his fingertips. He wanted it back.
Sam always knew he’d be the one to leave. But he’d never imagined that Dean wouldn’t stay.
According to Dean, Sam had always been a selfish bastard.
Dean didn’t understand.
Or let him forget.
Things will never be the way you want them to be, Sammy.
His life was, had always been, a struggle to remain true to himself. To be normal. Amidst the countless battles, the quests for revenge. The holy water. The silver bullets.
Normal Sam Winchester.
They argued. They fought. They said things to one another that I’m sorry shouldn’t have been able to fix. And yet, it always just…was.
Sam and Dean. The one thing they agreed on.
He blamed Dean for leaving, when it should have been impossible.
He blamed himself for being unable to let go.
And he punished the only way he could.
“We can’t…do this anymore,” Dean panted, hunched over and sweating as Sam fucked him against the motel wall. Muscles rippled across his back as he strained to get closer, and Sam grit his teeth in frustration.
Broken oaths whispered across his mind, a staccato punctuation for every movement he made. “It’s gotta stop.” His own voice, ragged and worn by hopeless anger. And yet, Dean didn’t pull away, and Sam didn’t think about stopping.
He wondered sullenly how many faceless strangers had seen Dean this way since he’d left; bent over and begging, half-straddling Sam’s lap. Head falling between his shoulders, breath coming out hoarse and shallow. Every line in his body standing out in stark relief.
“Sam…” A husky plea, at odds with the frenetic pulse of the moment. An arm twisted around Sam’s neck, pulling him against a cheek coarse with stubble. “I don’t want you to stop.”
Of course he didn’t.
Dean had never been an advocate for normal.
“FuckSammyplease,” Dean managed on a heavy moan, hips rolling against Sam’s as he braced himself against the wall with a single palm.
Mouth slack, Sam gripped Dean’s leg and lifted it higher. He went deeper. Sweat stung his eyes, his heart thundered in his ears, and blind pleasure ripped through him like a slice to the gut.
“Ohgodyes.”
Dean arched against him, making sounds of encouragement and looking over his shoulder with eyes too dark for Sam to read. His jaw clenched. “You shouldn’t have come after me.”
Sam agreed.
Everything was wrong.
Normal was impossible.
They were both so fucked.
“Goddamn it, Sam,” Dean gasped, coming hard against him as Sam’s teeth sank into his neck. His fingers twitched, trembled, and scraped at the wall when Sam’s tongue found his lips.
“Last…time…” Sam lied against his brother’s mouth, knowing Dean sensed no more truth in his words. Almost brutally, he bit Dean’s lower lip, drove again inside of him, and let go.
His knees gave out somewhere between the third or fourth strangled curse, and they fell to the floor in a heap of tangled, entwined limbs. Sam grabbed for Dean, pinning him to the floor as panic set in.
“Right here,” Dean murmured thickly, sleep weighing his voice as he answered the question Sam hadn’t been able to ask. His hand settled on Sam’s head, absently stroking. “I’m always right here.”
But Sam wouldn’t be.
“Dean…” Guilt lodged in his throat; he buried his head in the crook of Dean’s neck.
In the end, he didn’t have to say a word.
He closed his eyes as Dean choked out, voice broken and helpless, “You’re a selfish bastard, Sam.”
Normal Sam Winchester.
Things will never be the way you want them to be.
“Don’t leave again,” he mumbled, squeezing his arm around Dean’s waist. Desperation seized him. “I don’t…don’t fucking…”
“I won’t. But you will. And you’ll come back.”
And he would.
Because normal wasn’t possible.
Because he couldn’t forget.
Because Sam Winchester was a selfish bastard, and he couldn’t give Dean up.
And he only had himself to blame.
Author: keepaofthecheez
Characters: Sam/Dean, Sam POV
Rating: NC-17 for language and incest.
Category: Wincest, slash
Word Count: 721
Spoilers: Up to 1x22, Devil’s Trap
Disclaimer: The characters and situations in Supernatural belong to a shit load of people who aren’t me.
Summary: A glance into fucked-upness, Winchester-style.
Notes: Companion/sequel to This Whipping Boy Done Wrong. The two POV’s follow “The Unforgiven” series by Metallica. I’ve uploaded each song with each POV, in case you guys wanna rock out with your cocks out while reading, or whatev.
Lay beside me, under wicked sky
Through black of day, dark of night,
we share this pair of lives
The door cracks open,
but there's no sun shining through
Black heart scarring darker still,
but there's no sun shining through…
-- The Unforgiven II, Metallica
When things finally ended, Sam always knew he’d be the one to leave.
He’d planned for the day; dreamt of the places he’d go, the people he’d meet. The things he’d accomplish. Things that had nothing to do with hunting, or vendettas against bloodthirsty demons.
Things that had nothing to do with Dean.
He’d had a life once, cruelly ripped from his fingertips. He wanted it back.
Sam always knew he’d be the one to leave. But he’d never imagined that Dean wouldn’t stay.
According to Dean, Sam had always been a selfish bastard.
Dean didn’t understand.
Or let him forget.
Things will never be the way you want them to be, Sammy.
His life was, had always been, a struggle to remain true to himself. To be normal. Amidst the countless battles, the quests for revenge. The holy water. The silver bullets.
Normal Sam Winchester.
They argued. They fought. They said things to one another that I’m sorry shouldn’t have been able to fix. And yet, it always just…was.
Sam and Dean. The one thing they agreed on.
He blamed Dean for leaving, when it should have been impossible.
He blamed himself for being unable to let go.
And he punished the only way he could.
“We can’t…do this anymore,” Dean panted, hunched over and sweating as Sam fucked him against the motel wall. Muscles rippled across his back as he strained to get closer, and Sam grit his teeth in frustration.
Broken oaths whispered across his mind, a staccato punctuation for every movement he made. “It’s gotta stop.” His own voice, ragged and worn by hopeless anger. And yet, Dean didn’t pull away, and Sam didn’t think about stopping.
He wondered sullenly how many faceless strangers had seen Dean this way since he’d left; bent over and begging, half-straddling Sam’s lap. Head falling between his shoulders, breath coming out hoarse and shallow. Every line in his body standing out in stark relief.
“Sam…” A husky plea, at odds with the frenetic pulse of the moment. An arm twisted around Sam’s neck, pulling him against a cheek coarse with stubble. “I don’t want you to stop.”
Of course he didn’t.
Dean had never been an advocate for normal.
“FuckSammyplease,” Dean managed on a heavy moan, hips rolling against Sam’s as he braced himself against the wall with a single palm.
Mouth slack, Sam gripped Dean’s leg and lifted it higher. He went deeper. Sweat stung his eyes, his heart thundered in his ears, and blind pleasure ripped through him like a slice to the gut.
“Ohgodyes.”
Dean arched against him, making sounds of encouragement and looking over his shoulder with eyes too dark for Sam to read. His jaw clenched. “You shouldn’t have come after me.”
Sam agreed.
Everything was wrong.
Normal was impossible.
They were both so fucked.
“Goddamn it, Sam,” Dean gasped, coming hard against him as Sam’s teeth sank into his neck. His fingers twitched, trembled, and scraped at the wall when Sam’s tongue found his lips.
“Last…time…” Sam lied against his brother’s mouth, knowing Dean sensed no more truth in his words. Almost brutally, he bit Dean’s lower lip, drove again inside of him, and let go.
His knees gave out somewhere between the third or fourth strangled curse, and they fell to the floor in a heap of tangled, entwined limbs. Sam grabbed for Dean, pinning him to the floor as panic set in.
“Right here,” Dean murmured thickly, sleep weighing his voice as he answered the question Sam hadn’t been able to ask. His hand settled on Sam’s head, absently stroking. “I’m always right here.”
But Sam wouldn’t be.
“Dean…” Guilt lodged in his throat; he buried his head in the crook of Dean’s neck.
In the end, he didn’t have to say a word.
He closed his eyes as Dean choked out, voice broken and helpless, “You’re a selfish bastard, Sam.”
Normal Sam Winchester.
Things will never be the way you want them to be.
“Don’t leave again,” he mumbled, squeezing his arm around Dean’s waist. Desperation seized him. “I don’t…don’t fucking…”
“I won’t. But you will. And you’ll come back.”
And he would.
Because normal wasn’t possible.
Because he couldn’t forget.
Because Sam Winchester was a selfish bastard, and he couldn’t give Dean up.
And he only had himself to blame.