Fic: Rule of Thirds (5/6)

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Back to Part 2, Chapter 2



Dean relished the heat of tequila spilling down his throat. He'd eschewed the salt and lime, although Sam and Victor had kept to the traditional method. Closing his eyes, Dean savored the distinctive agave flavor as well as the warmth in his belly. God, it felt good to relax.

“Like that, old man?” Sam's tone was amused. He bumped shoulders with Dean.

“Yes, I do indeed. And I like it most after we've taken care of some son-of-a-bitch. Like tonight.” Dean burped. “How are you doing, Vic my man?”

Victor's teeth creased white across his dark face as he grinned. “I am excellent.” He looked around quickly, and Dean appreciated how aware Victor was of their surroundings even now. “I put down a creepy-ass monster and saved a kid.” He swigged his beer. “I am just fine.”

They all laughed. Dean cleared his throat and picked up the next shot, leaving a wet ring of condensation on the table's scarred wood. He motioned for the other two to do likewise. “We've grown into an awesome team,” he said, “And I just want to acknowledge that fact.”

Sam and Victor nodded, and they all downed the shot. “Guys, I gotta tell you-this has been the wildest, hardest, and most intense months of my life,” said Victor, looking at them with dark, serious eyes. “After Monument, I didn't know what I was going to do--”

“Okay! Enough chick flick moments! I'm gonna hit the jukebox. Vic, you get us another round. Sammy, hold down the fort!” Dean bounded out of the booth and hurried over to the jukebox, bending over it to peruse the choices.

He stared at the labels unseeingly, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. He appreciated what Victor was about to say; hell, he totally understood it. Only thing was, part of the armor he wore-the armor that let him fight the monsters they did-relied on not treading in the softer emotional regions. Sam knew this, understood it at a visceral level, and had learned to communicate without spelling things out.

Dean focused enough to feed a few quarters in, punch in a couple of song codes. He headed back to the table and joined his Sammy. “How you doing there, Sammy boy?” He let his eyes drift around the bar as he listened to Sam's rich voice purr in his ear.

“I'm good, Dean. We got the bad guy. Victor did awesome. If anything, I'm thinking about how at some point, he's going to be ready to leave us. He's going to want that freedom.” Sam sighed.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean saw Victor standing at the bar, ordering drinks and paying the bartender. “That's what happens. Gotta grow up and leave the nest.” He kept staring. Had Victor's ass always looked that good? So...well-shaped and full? Victor turned, and Dean thought, God damn, I think the boy is packing. His dick jumped inside his jeans.

“Dean,” a low voice said in his ear. “Are you staring at Victor's ass?”

Dean started. “No! What? No! I was just...uh...”

Sam's lips pursed in what Dean liked to call, Bitchface # 24. “'Fess up. You know I don't care if you look. You know I don't care about you picking up a woman. Hell, we both do that. But be honest with me. Don't try to fake your way out of it.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, our boy there? He's pretty damn hot. That skin, those eyes...that ass. And he's turned out to be the terrific hunter we thought he could be, and that's fucking hot too.”

“It sure is. Dude, I'm on the same page as you.” Sam tugged Dean's hand below the table, and Dean chuckled at the ridge in Sam's jeans. “Some of this is for you, but some of it is from checking out Vic.”

Dean looked intently as Sam. “We've never slept with other men, much less shared one. Are we talking about this?” His dick thought it was a great idea, but Dean knew Sam was too important to risk on the whims of a randy cock. They had to be completely open about this.

“It's certainly a new thought, but...I think we could. If he's open to it, of course. I don't know if he's thought about men like this.”

“Ha!” Dean snorted. “I think he's done a little wick-dipping. That night you went off with that Shelly, and I was with the hot redhead? I heard some very suspicious sounds from his room, but it was hot, dark, and handsome who left in the morning.” Not-So-Little Sammy jumped under his hand, and Dean chuckled again. “Oh, you like that...” he growled softly, giving a good squeeze to the bulge in his hand. Sam moaned softly.

“Okay. Tonight might be too soon, but we'll find the right time. Let's have a few more drinks, and then there'll be some righteous ass-pounding back on our room, my brother.” Dean winked at Sam, giving him a final squeeze before removing his hand. “We can rock-paper-scissors for bottom!”



Another morning sitting in another diner, Victor thought as he nursed another mediocre cup of coffee, wishing he could sleep some more. He looked at his hunting partners, noting the shadows under Sam's eyes and his unshaven face, and how Dean's usually carefully-styled hair was sticking up in unruly tufts. They'd been pursuing back-to-back hunts for days now, quelling a rash of supernatural activity in a tri-state area, and the fatigue was telling on all of them. Victor was not only tired, his muscles were stiff from digging and running, and besides accumulating a myriad of scrapes and bruises, he'd just burnt a couple of fingers on his left hand handling a hot lighter during a salt-and-burn.

They ordered their food and sat in tired silence again. Dean's eyes drifted idly around the diner, while Sam focused his attention intently on the laptop. He sighed and shut the lid, shaking his head as he guzzled more coffee.

“What is it?” asked Victor. He knew Sam's tells for finding a hunt by now.

Dean's eyes snapped to Sam, eyebrows raised questioningly. “What'cha got, Sammy?”

Sam shook his head again. “It's not great. Especially with us all worn down like this. We really need a couple of day's rest.”

“Which I suspect we ain't gonna get, so out with it.” Dean smiled at their waitress, causing her to blush and spill a little coffee as she refilled all their cups, assuring them their food would be out in just a few minutes.

Sam sighed again. “Werewolf.”

“Dammit.” Dean's mouth was a thin line that turned down at the corners. “That is not what I wanted to hear.”

“What?” asked Victor, dumbfounded. While he'd become accustomed to a lot of strange and creepy shit, there were still things he struggled to believe were real. “Really? They're real? What are they like?”

“Big, hairy, smelly, and vicious as all get out,” said Dean.

“And smart,” added Sam. “Very cunning.”

Their breakfasts arrived, and they all dug in, hunger overriding the dismay over Sam's news. Victor had learned to eat a good meal when he could, since sometimes they were few and far between, and preferably before there were gory or disgusting details to discuss.

Empty plates finally pushed aside, they sat over a last cup of coffee, chatting idly, feeling somewhat revived by food. Victor was consumed with curiosity about the werewolf and what that entailed for a hunt, but figured he'd have to wait until they were back in the Impala and had more privacy.

Sure enough, once they were back on the road, Sam filled him in more. “Werewolves are animals when they're in their wolf form, but they still have a lot of human intelligence. The wolf gives them enormous strength and speed, so the combination of animal and human makes for a very dangerous opponent. Most hunters will team up in pairs and trios to hunt werewolves rather than attempt to do it by themselves-it's very ill-advised to hunt one by oneself.”

“But if they're human-I mean, we don't hunt people.”

“Not usually,” Dean said. “But they aren't really human anymore. They're like a shapeshifter, except there's only one thing they shift into, and their shifting is controlled by the cycle of the moon. And when they're not wolfed out, they don't remember what they did while they were a wolf. So it's not like they remember eating Aunt Edna.”

“Raw deal,” said Victor. “They didn't ask to get bitten. It's not their fault that they're a monster.”

“Nope,” agreed Dean, eyes fixed on the road. Victor looked at Sam, who was staring out the side window, his jaw clenched tight. The air felt palpably tenser and colder, leaving Victor confused about what just went sideways. Clearly something was up, but he had no idea what it could be. Deciding silence was his best option for the moment, Victor shut up until he could ask one of the brothers what the issue was. He'd found that Dean was more direct, but that Sam was more open about emotional topics. Talking to one or the other, though, was often simply a matter of opportunity, with the limited privacy hunting together afforded. Victor would take whoever he got the chance to talk with.

At their next gas stop, Sam stalked off to the men's room without a word. Victor therefore seized the moment to talk with Dean.

“What's going on? Is there something else I should know about weres? Did Sam have a bad run-in with one?”

Dean locked the pump to fill the Impala's tank. “Sort of, but not like you think.” Dean's mouth tightened, his eyes not meeting Vic's. “He fell for a girl in San Francisco.” Vic saw a dimple pop with Dean's wistful smile. “She was something-beautiful, smart, apartment full of books, just how Sam likes. We were there hunting a were, and it turned out she'd been attacked. Bitten.” Dean unlocked the pump and hung it back up, snapping the gas tank shut.

Victor waited, unwilling to interrupt Dean's reverie.

“Sam locked her in a closet all night while we waited to see if she would wolf out during the moon.” Dean chuckled. “Man, she was so pissed at him. She did shift, though, tore that closet up with her claws. We thought that killing the were that turned her would cure her.”

“Did it work?” asked Victor, curious but apprehensive of what he was going to hear.

“We thought it did. Stayed up all night with her and nothing. So Sam and her-Madison-they had twelve hours together, hot monkey sex and everything. She knew what we were, what we do, and it didn't bother her, so...some real hope, you know? Only--” Dean's voice stopped, and chills went down Victor's spine.

“Only it didn't work, did it? And you guys-you had to--” He couldn't say it.

Dean's jaw muscles flexed, and his voice was a little huskier as he finished the story. “She asked Sam to put her down, that she couldn't do it herself. Said she didn't want to hurt anybody, and someday she would.” He cleared his throat. “I told Sam I'd do it, but...” He coughed, a cough Victor knew hid a sob. “That's it.” He walked off, skirting the paved area to walk the gravel lot where a couple of battered picnic tables sat.

“That's enough. Fuckin' more than enough.” Victor's eyes were moist, his chest filled with grief for a girl he hadn't known, but who hadn't deserved her fate. And for Sam, who'd had to destroy someone he'd loved, however briefly.

Victor rested his forehead against the polished roof of the Impala. Nancy Fitzgerald's image welled up in his mind; he hadn't dreamed of her for a long time now, but here she was in her white blouse and sweater vest, tiny cross around her neck, rosary chain glinting in her hand. “Sorry, Nancy, so sorry. You find Madison and keep her company, okay? Watch out for each other.” He closed his eyes, the pressure of his lids forcing a few tears to fall. “And if you could watch over us too, please? I think we're going to need it.”

He straightened up and ran the back of his hand over his eyes. Taking a deep breath he walked into the gas station, where he blindly picked up a cold water bottle and a couple bags of snacks. Sam was fixing a cup of coffee at the coffee station, and Victor joined him, pouring coffee, milk, sugar into a cup silently at Sam's side. Snapping a lid onto the cup, Victor turned and looked at Sam, noting his pale skin and reddened eyes, He patted Sam's shoulder awkwardly, giving it a little squeeze before saying, “This one's on me, dude.”

Sam looked askance at him, but followed him as they approached the register, where Dean was also waiting with his haul.

They didn't discuss werewolves for the rest of the drive.



“You Can't Beat Our Beds!” proclaimed the neon sign outside the Friendly Motel, or rather, “ u Can eat u s !” with all the missing letters. Victor wasn't sure how friendly that was-did they mean cannibalism or sex? He snickered to himself. There was a lot of funny shit out there on the road, and sometimes you just had to laugh.

The location of the motel was good; close enough to town for food and booze, far enough from town for privacy, and backed by a large section of woods. The countryside's set-up was perfect for the wolf's hunting, with the woods extending to and surrounding the town itself, affording a lot of cover.

“We're going to have to search for its possible lair during the day, but we won't be able to hunt it until after moon-rise. It could still be living its human life in the daylight.” Dean unpacked the weapons duffle and began to strip and clean the guns. “We'll go out tomorrow morning and see what we can track.”

Victor nodded and retreated to his own room, where he opened one of the beers they'd bought earlier and tried to watch a movie. What it was, he couldn't have said; he couldn't focus worth a damn, his mind wandering hither and yon. He finally threw in the towel and went to bed, which was not as great as advertised. Sleep eluded him--all he saw were girls running through the woods, chased by gray-brown furred animals too large to be dogs.

They didn't find a lair the next day as they explored the woods, but they did come across a pile of dead animals. Half a dozen carcasses lay in a heap, most of which turned out to be skin and bones with the flesh stripped off. “All wildlife-they're making do. Not as good as long pig,” said Dean, poking at a carcass with his hunting knife.

“But enough for it to get by,” added Sam.

“Long pig?” asked Victor. “What's the hell is that?”

“Man.” Dean said portentously, looking rather proud of himself. Sam rolled his eyes.

“It does mean that, but ignore him. He likes to think he's special.” Sam cuffed Dean's head as he walked by. “You're a moron.”

“You're a moron!” Dean tried to get Sam into a headlock.

Victor couldn't help laughing at the scuffle, but then his jeans started to get a little tight. Watching Sam and Dean wrestle, clothes straining over thick muscles and rucked-up jackets affording tantalizing glimpses of skin, was more than a little distracting. “I'll look around, move a few yards out. See if there's any more carcasses.” While the prospect of Sam and Dean getting it on right here in the woods in broad daylight-and on a hunt-seemed slim, Victor wanted a little space to recompose himself.

They staked out the offal pile, and sure enough, the werewolf returned to it, tossing a couple of rabbits onto it. Silver bullets hit the were from three angles, piercing head, heart, and belly. The werewolf yowled and fell, body seizing from the silver as much as the actual mortal wounds, but it quickly fell still and silent.

“Well, that went well,” said Dean. “They aren't always as smooth as that, but goddamn, I'll take it.” They stood over the body, Victor staring at it in bemusement. It looked mostly like a wolf, thickly furred but with longer limbs and vaguely hand-like front paws, as well as a rounder cranium.

“What do we do with it now?” he asked.

“Burn it,” said Sam, already scavenging for brush and branches.

They cleared around the body and threw the offal onto the fire as well. The heavy smell of roasting meat and charred fur filled the air. Victor thought he might gag at the odor. He knew they had to wait until the body was all consumed, then throw dirt on the ashes and make sure there was no chance of fire spreading in the woods, besides hiding what remained. He just hoped he wouldn't hurl before they were done.

“I vote for beer and shots,” said Dean, poking a stray animal limb back into the blaze. “Maybe pizza. I don't feel like a burger somehow.”

Victor and Sam both snickered, breaking the solemn mood before nodding in agreement.



They enjoyed beer and shots that evening, after taking showers and changing into clean clothes. Both Victor and Sam passed on the ribs that Dean surprisingly chose and happily devoured. “What?” he asked, barbecue sauce smeared on one cheek. “They're delicious!” Instead, Sam went with a chicken Caesar salad and Victor got a cheese quesadilla. Neither of them could face a meal of red meat right then.

Victor's dreams that night were filled with growls and flames, making him toss and turn restlessly. Finally he sat up and switched the television on. Faint noises from the other side of the wall made him turn the volume up a little. Apparently Sam and Dean were having a little celebration by themselves, and Victor didn't need to be visualizing what that might be as he sat all by his lonesome. He watched two or three episodes of Modern Family, chuckling at the quirks and antics of the Pritchett/Dunphy families. Finally he dozed back off.

When he left his room the next morning, though, he was taken aback to see scratches on his door and window sill. Long scratches that looked like--

“Claw marks.” Dean and Sam stood next to him.

“What? Like a bear?”

“No, like another wolf.” Sam's face was grim, and Dean frowned.

“Well, shit. Guess we aren't leaving just yet. We gotta find that other wolf. We can't leave an angry were roaming around.”

They spent the day back in the woods again, hiking everywhere, following every likely-looking track, but coming up dry.

“This sucks. It's gone to ground somewhere. We're going to have to stay out here tonight and get this fucker, we can't risk it attacking someone.” Dean's mouth was set in an angry line. “I'm guessing it had a mate. We should have looked for a fucking den. Goddammit!”

They went back to the motel, where they checked and re-checked their weapons, replenished their ammo, and packed up their heavy jackets along with water, and protein bars.

“Stay alert. You saw last night how fast they can be. If you feel you're dozing off at all, text one of us,” Dean ordered. “Don't be a sitting duck.” Victor nodded. The adrenaline of a hunt washed through him, but he knew that in the middle of the night, that rush would fade and it would be all to easy to doze off.

Just before sunset, they set up as they had previously, positioning themselves in a triangle and using the burnt site as their center. If the wolf was angry, then presumably it might lurk or check out that spot again, seeking its mate.

It was cold after the sun went down, and eventually even in his thick jacket and layers of flannel and t-shirt, Victor felt the chill seeping into his body, bit by bit. With the cold came lethargy, and he caught himself nodding off. Text them, don't try to be a fucking hero, he thought to himself. Dean was talking about this, warning us. He peeled off his gloves, but his fingers were already stiff from cold, and he dropped his phone. Cursing to himself, he patted the ground trying to find it, but only turned up dried leaves and twigs.

“Shit,” he whispered, standing up and scanning the ground around his feet. Surely it couldn't have gone far.

A train hit him, slamming him to the forest floor some feet away from where he'd been standing. He couldn't breath for a moment, the very air knocked from his lungs, and just as he gasped, searing pain ripped across his torso. A scream flew from his throat unbidden, and he thrashed on the ground.

Another lash of pain, this time across his back, and Victor flip-flopped helplessly like a fish. His weapon was gone by this point, he couldn't say when he'd even lost it; his mind was wrapped up with the agony of his wounds and the panic about where the fuck his unknown assailant was.

The train hit him again, straight on into his chest this time, and again he couldn't breathe. Fire erupted across his thighs and he fell flat onto the ground, crying out in agony.

Fuck, I'm gonna die.

A shotgun blasted over him, then more gunshots blasted through the night. Something uttered blood-curdling yelps and whines. More shots, and Victor felt something huge and heavy fall across his body. He screamed at the unbearable weight, his body already wracked with pain from his wounds. It stunk foully, and one hand could feel the rough fur of the were now crushing him.

Aw, fuck...sorry...

“Vic! Vic!” Shouts echoed through the trees that Victor dimly recognized as Sam and Dean's voices.

“Vic! Stay with us!”

He passed out.



It was the smell that told Victor he was in the hospital. That distinctive, metallic-chemical blend of bleach and machinery, underlaid by the faint powdery note of latex gloves. He lay motionless-he didn't even know if he could move, and he wasn't eager to find out-and letting his senses glean all the information they could.

Deja vu. I've been here before, he thought. Am I dreaming or is this a memory? But that time, there had been an explosion. This time--

He tried to move and cried out in pain, lashes of burning pain striped across his body and legs. What...?

“Mr Henriksen...Mr. Henriksen. Here, take this.” A hand slid a smooth plastic egg-shaped thing into his palm. “There's the button for your pain relief.” His thumb was positioned onto a toggle. He pressed it, sighing as the worst of the pain eased off.

“You've been injured, Mr. Henriksen. Nothing broken, but some wild animal attacked you, and you have a lot of stitches, including some internal sutures. Now just rest, and I'll let your friends know you're awake.”

Victor passed out again.



Dean and Sam took Victor out of the hospital after a week, signing him out AMA. The doctors tried ordering him to return in another week to get his stitches removed, but Dean waved a hand at that, saying he and Sam could take care of it.

Ultimately there would be scars-the wounds would resolve to thin pink and white lines trailing across Victor's dark brown skin. Right now, they were bumpy, scabbed ridges dotted with the black thread of the sutures. Four ran across his midsection from side to side-two inches down, and he'd have lost some intestines. Another four across the middle of his back, more diagonal this time from his left shoulder to right waist. And the last ones were across the tops of his thighs, fortunately low enough that they had left his junk intact. He knew he had a lot to be grateful for.

“Ladies love scars,” leered Dean. “Trust me on that.”

Victor had to laugh, cursing as he did because it still hurt. “What about men?” he asked.

“Eh, men don't care so much, but it's sure not a deal-breaker,” Dean replied casually.

“Good to know.” Dean shot him a piercing look, but Victor pretended to ignore it.

They retreated to a cabin that Dean and Sam knew about, deep in some woods. Victor was hazy about the location, drifting in and out of unconsciousness during the drive there. “It's kind of a safe house for hunters,” explained Sam. “We can rest here, let you recover for a couple of weeks.”

As Victor had experienced during his recovery from the Monument explosion, there were trauma-induced nightmares. In fact, the ones from the explosion returned, now with added werewolf goodness. Victor found himself waking up in a cold sweat, feeling helpless, petrified, alone in the dark. Trails of fire seared across his body and arced up into the darkness. Glowing eyes encircled him, only to erupt in gouts of flame as shrapnel rained down around him.

Victor tried to stay quiet. The cabin only had one bedroom and he'd been set up in there. The Winchesters were sleeping in the living room, taking turns between the couch and a pallet on the floor. He didn't want to wake them, instead clenching his fists and gritting his teeth to stay quiet. They heard him anyway as he shivered under a quilt, blinking tears out of his eyes and biting off tiny moans.

“Shhh,” soothed Sam, wiping Victor's face with a cool washcloth. “You're okay. You're safe.”

“S-s-s-sorry,” Victor chattered. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, and he hated himself for being so week and needy.

Dean came up with another blanket to put on him. “'S okay, man. Don't worry about it. We've both been there and done that.” He sat at the end of the bed, putting Victor's feet on his lap and gently rubbing them. “Sammy, get him another antibiotic and a couple of pain pills, would ya? Then go back to bed. I'll stay here.”

Sam went back to bed after delivering the meds. Victor, now warm and more relaxed, dozed off after swallowing them, Dean's strong hands massaging his feet.

The next morning Sam made them all breakfast. Victor moved stiffly to the couch, where he was able to recline with pillows propping him up. He gratefully drank the coffee he hadn't had in a few days, savoring the rich taste and aroma.

“So, I have a suggestion,” Sam said, bringing plates of eggs and bacon out to the living room.

“What?” asked Dean as he grabbed his plate and stuffed a strip of bacon into his mouth. Sam smacked the back of his head. Dean just grinned.

“What if we all sleep on the bed tonight? It's huge even for me, and that way we're right there for when Vic has a nightmare. Maybe he won't even have one if he's not alone, but tucked in with us there. If he does, we're right there to help.”

Victor stared at Sam. The generosity of his offer was amazing, but Victor was concerned about cramping them with his presence, or keeping them awake half the night with him.

“Great idea, Sammy.” Dean forked eggs into his mouth.

“Vic?” Sam looked at him questioningly.

“Are you sure I won't, uh...be in the way? What if I wake you up?”

“Vic, understand one thing about us-we don't ask anything we don't mean.” Dean waggled a fork at him. “We don't play that kind of shit game.”

Victor couldn't deny the feeling of warmth and reassurance the offer gave him. “Okay...maybe just a night or two?” Victor finally ate a few bites of eggs, which turned out to be delicious. “I remember having nightmares like this after-after the explosion. But they faded eventually.”

“Long as it takes, buddy.” Sam patted him on the back-staying clear of the stitches-and they ate without further discussion of sleeping arrangements. Victor was mildly surprised that he finished all of his eggs and toast, leaving him comfortably full and ready for a nap.

That night, Victor felt awkward all over again. 'What ifs' ran through his head as he brushed his teeth and carefully took off his sweat pants. He was sleeping in a t-shirt to protect the stitches, as well as his boxers. What if he work up yelling? What if he woke up crying? What if the boys slept naked? What if he popped a boner? What if they popped a boner?

It turned out Sam and Dean also slept in t-shirts and boxers, or at least they did that night, and as far as Victor could tell, no one got an erection. He did have the beginning throes of nightmares a couple of times, ugly shades invading his dream state, but no sooner did he moan or stir in distress than strong hands and arms around him reassured him that he was safe, allowing him to settle back into sleep.

After a week, Victor felt much better. His pain overall had subsided substantially, he was moving easier, and didn't need to nap as much. His stitches were healing well with no sign of infection. Clearly the solid sleep he was getting at night was helping his recovery. The nightmares were already subsiding, and Victor could only think it was the effect of Sam and Dean's constant presence and reassurance.

Sam carefully removed the sutures, doing it in three sessions so it wouldn't be too much irritation on the wound-sensitive skin. Victor felt some pinches and tugs, but Sam's hands were both gentle and deft, wielding tweezers and tiny scissors with a skill that spoke of long practice.

A few days after the stitches were removed, a nightmare seized Victor while he slept. Amid thoughts of claws and rough fur and hot animal breath, a heavy weight seemed to be pinning him to the mattress. Victor gasped in panic and awoke, sweating and heart pounding, trying to push the weight were? Please not a were... off.

It turned out to be Sam, or rather Sam's arm and leg that had flopped across Victor. He closed his eyes in relief before gently pushing Sam's limbs back to him. Breathing more freely, nonetheless Victor found he kind of missed their warmth.

“You okay?” whispered Dean, lips brushing softly across the shell of Victor's ear. He could feel Dean's heartbeat, smell his sleepy warmth, and it made Victor shiver. The intimacy of the moment flooded his mind with images of skin and touching and Dean. That boner Victor had been worried about a week ago made its sudden appearance, and he tried to twist his hips away in case Dean felt it.

Dean snickered softly. “No worries, Vic. It's gonna happen, dicks gotta mind of their own. I'll take it as a compliment.” He kissed Victor's cheek gently and in seconds, he could hear Dean's breathing deepening back into slumber.

As soothed as Victor was, some time passed before he could fall asleep. His cocoon built of Winchester skin and bone and muscle shifted from being protective and reassuring into being actively sensual and desirable. Victor had already found Sam and Dean attractive and hot in a theoretical sense, but theory now fell to the wayside with a crash, leaving him metaphorically naked and wanting in a very, very visceral way.

He lay very still with his eyes closed and hands clasped over his stomach, resolutely ignoring his dick, until sleep finally reclaimed him.



Sam came out of the bedroom, yawning and stretching as he walked into the kitchen. Dean was at the coffeemaker fixing a new pot. Sam came up and kissed the back of Dean's neck, encircling his waist and snuggling up closely behind him. He always liked when Dean was still sleep-warm and soft.

“Hey there,” Dean greeted him, voice still whiskey-rough from sleep. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah. Did you guys wake up last night? I thought I heard something.” Sam stepped back, giving Dean's perky ass a squeeze. He leaned against the counter, watching coffee drip into the carafe.

“Vic woke up, I settled him back down.” Dean gave a dirty chuckle. “Boy got wood and was all embarrassed. I told him hey, it happens.” He looked at Sam with a wink. “He's definitely packing.”

Sam felt his cock twinge in his sleep pants and shifted his legs. It felt a little awkward to get hard in front of his lover when discussing another man's equipment.

Of course, Dean noticed. “Sammy, no harm in appreciating our partner's assets. I felt just the same way.” He turned to face Sam, and the bulge in Dean's pants was obvious. “In fact, I feel the same way right now.”

Giving a sigh of relief, Sam said, “Thank God. Dean, you are the love of my life, but I'm not going to lie, Vic is damn hot. Half of it is the hunter he's turned out to be, but half of it is that the man is just fucking gorgeous.”

Dean moved in close, wrapping his arms around Sam and nibbling at his lips. “You aren't wrong, Sammy. I'm gettin' hot and bothered just thinking about it.” Dean pushed his hips against Sam's, rubbing his bulge against his brother's. “Need to do a little fishing today.”

Sam pulled his head back, giving Dean a puzzled look. “Fishing? There's no lake around here.”

Dean laughed low and dirty. “I wanna catch me some trout...trouser-trout!” He kissed Sam hard, pressing him against the counter, one hand on Sam's neck to hold him close and the other sliding down the front of his pants. Sam moaned and grabbed Dean's ass with both hands, kneading and squeezing the plump cheeks.

A loud cough broke them apart. Victor stood in the kitchen doorway, a half-smile traced on his full lips. “I can, uh...come back later. It's just this is where the coffee lives.”

Sam could feel his cheeks flush hotly, but Dean just threw back his head and laughed. He stepped back from Sam, apparently casually ignoring the tent he was sporting, and waved for Victor to enter. “Sorry, Vic, I couldn't ignore the call of the wild Sammy.” Victor rolled his eyes and Sam snickered. He hastily poured some coffee and sat down at the table to hide his own tent as quickly as possible.

Victor walked over to the coffee pot and poured a mug, adding a little sugar and milk. He was only in track pants, and Sam was pleased to see how well the scars across his back were healing; no longer puffy or scabbed, they were smooth, narrow clean lines, white against his dark brown skin. “Listen, guys-I'm in pretty good shape now. I don't see why we can't hit the road again,” Victor said, joining Sam at the table. “At the very least, y'all could get your privacy back.” He winked at them and stretched before picking up his mug.

While Sam had seen Victor shirtless before at the hospital, among other places, it had been as a hunting partner and sometimes a field doctor. Now, Victor sat relaxed and easy at the table, and Sam could allow himself a chance to simply...observe and appreciate. Observe Victor's smooth chocolate skin, the light scruff across his pecs, black and curly. Appreciate those firm well-shaped pecs, the lean muscular torso, the broad shoulders and thick biceps. Sam had always known how handsome Victor was, and then what a capable hunter he'd become, but adding that body in-well, no wonder he was giving both Sam and Dean wood on a regular basis.

Sam looked over at Dean, catching his eye. He raised an eyebrow. Dean too had been staring at Victor, who continued to sit unaware of being observed while sipping his coffee. Sam nodded at Dean. Dean smiled and nodded back. Sam stood up, and in unison with Dean, approached Victor's chair. Sam took Victor's coffee mug and put it down the table, and Dean slipped a hand under Victor's elbow, tugging him upright.

Victor looked back and forth between them, a clear question in his eyes. “Uh, guys, what...”

Dean leaned forward and kissed him. Sam watched his brother's lips moving on Victor's; if he had an erection before, now he had a steel bar in his pants. Dean broke the kiss, licking his own plump lips as he nodded to Sam. Sam gently took hold of Victor's chin and turned it, noting both his blown pupils and the shiny moisture from Dean on Victor's pink lips before leaning in to kiss him.

Sam pressed his mouth firmly against Victor's, closing his eyes at this first caress. Sam's initial impression was how soft Victor's lips were before continuing and brushing his tongue over those lips. Victor opened up to him immediately, his tongue pushing eagerly against Sam's, one hand easing into Sam's hair and holding his head close while they kissed.

This time Victor broke it off, his breathing heavier, hand still entwined in Sam's hair. He and Sam both looked at Dean, whose eyes showed only a narrow rim of green around huge black pupils and whose hand was clutching the front of his pants.

“Sam...Dean...are you sure? I don't want to...upset anything.” Victor spoke in a soft, husky voice. Sam wanted to swallow all those words down, show Victor just how much he had come to mean to Sam and Dean both.

“We're sure. This is new for us too, but we're agreed on it.” Sam reassured him.

“Just-no pressure, man. You don't want to, we're fine. Free and clear,” Dean's voice was firm.

Victor threw back his head and laughed. “Are you nuts? You know how long you boys been driving me crazy? Yeah, I'm in! Fuck yeah!”



Victor felt like he was floating in a bubble of sensation. Emotion and pleasure wrapped themselves around him, his neurons buzzing blissfully. Thankfully the bed was huge, since it was currently filled with three large men who were busy kissing and touching each other in every way possible. Skin was everywhere Victor looked-pale freckled skin, tan skin dusted with dark hair, coffee-dark skin. They all looked beautiful contrasting with each other, surfaces shiny with sweat, intersecting limbs wrapped around their bodies.

Sam and Dean had distinctly different styles in bed, Victor quickly learned. He knew he himself was on the quiet, intense side, having been told so by past partners. Sam was also intense--Victor had expected no less--but Sam was surprisingly louder and gruffer that he'd anticipated. Victor found Sam prone to manhandling, moving his partners where he wanted them, almost roughly at times. The pairing of intensity with assertiveness was immensely exciting. Victor hadn't ever thought he'd be turned on by someone more domineering or stronger than he was in bed, but it turned out he sure as fuck was.

On the flip side, Dean was more lighthearted and playful. While that did not overly surprise Victor, what he did find unexpected was the immense tenderness Dean exhibited along with that playfulness. He was gentler than Sam; he worshiped his partners with mouth and hands, and oh holy fuck, that was hot.

Between the two of them, Victor thought he might just fucking spontaneously combust. He'd had good sex in his life, even great sex, but he'd never experienced anything like making love with these two men turned out to be. This was...mind-blowing.

The three men gave and took naturally between them, the innate teamwork they'd developed as hunters bleeding into their joining as lovers. Not a lot of actual speaking went on, but there was plenty of heavy breathing, panting, moans, grunts and groans, and breathy, blurted utterances and exclamations.

Soon as they were naked in bed together, Sam crawled down to the end of the bed and promptly swallowed Victor's dick down deep, humming around his thick mouthful and driving Victor slightly crazy. Meanwhile, Dean kissed Victor passionately, trailing his lush mouth and skillful tongue down to lick Victor's neck, chest, and little ebony nipples. Dean took hold of Victor's hand, placing it on his dick and using their entwined fingers to stroke it. Victor moaned at the thick cock filling his palm, sliding their hands up and down it, moving lower to caress and tug his balls. Sam stretched one of his hands up to encompass theirs, whereupon Dean promptly lost it and christened them with his climax. They all laughed, but Victor came right after, as turned on by the sight of their co-mingles hads as by Sam's wicked mouth and tongue sucking and teasing his dick.

Later, Sam and Victor lay on their sides, head to foot with their cocks in each other's mouth. Victor knew he couldn't take all of Sam in-the man had a beast between his legs-but he sucked and tongued as much as he could and wrapped his hands around the rest. Everything about Sam's cock inflamed Victor; the size of it, the hardness cloaked in softest skin, the swollen spongy head resting on his tongue, all drove Victor a little crazy. Between the party in his mouth and the party on his own dick as Sam licked and teased it, Victor thought he was going to short-circuit from pleasure.

Dean moved up behind Sam and hefted his leg up onto Dean's shoulder, opening Sam up for Dean's cock. Sam moaned and whimpered while Dean fucked him, hips pumping hard and fast, the rhythm driving Sam's mouth even deeper onto Victor's dick. The more Sam moaned, the more vibrations resonated through Victor until he cried out and came, clinging tightly onto Sam's sweaty body. Sam fell over after him, striping Victor with thick white lines of come on his face and chest. Dean gave a yell of triumph and then ground himself hard into Sam, hips churning. Still lying with his face in Sam's crotch, Victor watched Dean's balls move up to empty themselves, groaned as a thin white trickle seeped out from between Dean's dick and Sam's hole. Surprising himself, Victor licked the rim of Sam's hole and suckled Dean's balls clean, making both men shout and Sam's dick try urgently to shoot again.

Sam showed Victor how to open Dean up, using lube and fingers to play with his hole and stretch him out while Dean wriggled and cursed. Once Dean was ready, he got on all fours, presenting himself to Victor with one hand pulling a cheek wide. Victor slowly pushed into Dean's sweet round ass, feeling that tight muscular channel for the first time, his dick being squeezed in a way he'd never experienced before. Moaning in pleasure at the heat and tightness, Victor watched Sam slide underneath Dean, guiding his pretty pink cock in between Sam's flexible red lips. Fucking Dean was incredible, but feeling he was driving Dean's cock into Sam's mouth was an additional intoxication.

Sam's hand gripped his own massive cock, dark red and swollen, jerking himself roughly until he yelled, spraying white all over his own belly and chest. Dean yelled in turn, Sam swallowing Dean's release with loud slurps. Dean's hole rippled and squeezed Victor, sending him over the edge in turn. Victor pulled out, his dick pulsing hot fluid all over Dean's ass. Dean licked Sam's chest and belly clean, pink tongue and swollen lips working over that tempting caramel skin, Victor watching avidly as he rubbed his own nipples with one hand and stroked Sam's hair with the other.

They rested briefly between rounds, waiting just until desire and dicks rose again. Victor had never felt so wanted, so lusted after, with every inch of his body explored, kissed, tasted. Aware as he had been of the bond between Sam and Dean, he was honored and humbled to see it in action. Every move between the brothers, every kiss and touch, spoke not just of their sexual connection, but of their love and respect for each other. To be invited to join that, be some part of it, touched Victor deeply.

Finally they fell asleep, exhausted but replete with satisfaction and love.

Part 2, Chapter 4