Only This, Only Now - Slash, PG-13ish
Title: Only This, Only Now
Author: thelonejuliet
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 861
Rating: PG-13/maybe R
Warnings: Boy kissing, handjobs, angst
Spoilers: "Faith"
Disclaimer: Not mine. The boys belong to Kripke.
Author's Note(s): Two stories in two days? I think my muse is trying to prove I'm a good writer after the whole spn_j2_bigbang ordeal. Anway, not sure where this came from...it's just there. I hope you like it... :) Oh, and it's unbeta'd.
All fics found here.
Summary: Set during "Faith." Faced with an unthinkable life alone, Sam wants to show Dean he loves him.
“Dean? You awake?”
Dean mumbles a little in his sleep, and then tries to move tighter into his brother. Sam smiles warmly at the action, though it fades a little when he sees the grimace of pain - even unconscious, there’s no escaping the fact that Dean is dying.
Sam’s trying to come to grips with that, he is. He knows that this faith healer, whom he failed to tell his brother about, might not work and then he’ll have to face it. But, still, he can’t imagine life without Dean there, and he flat-out refuses to believe that he can’t save him, that there’s not a way.
But, as it is though, he needs to feel Dean, right now, without interruption or hesitation.
So, he tries again, “Dean? Wake up?”
He leans over and places a kiss on the red, bruised eyes in front of him; they flutter but don’t open. And, before he knows it, Sam is maneuvering himself to a better position and slipping his hand past the waistband of Dean’s boxers.
It’s the dead of the night and he knows that maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. But, then a voice screams in his head that this could be his last night with Dean and he wants to do something to show he cares, wants to take care of his older brother.
So, he does, wrapping his fingers somewhat delicately, around Dean’s flaccid sex and stroking slowly. He keeps his eyes on Dean’s face because, after all, the man’s heart is a major problem and too much excitement might send the weakened organ into failure. But, Sam figures if he does it slow, makes it last, makes it good, then maybe the risk will be worth it.
Dean wakes up once he’s completely hard, and blinks at Sam in a mixture of confusion and want. Sam just smiles and leans over to kiss his brother, only lips sliding against each other before Dean makes a strangled, moany sort of sound and opens his lips to deepen the kiss. Sam slips his tongue into his brother’s mouth, caressing Dean’s with his own.
He will never get tired of kissing Dean, the way he kisses like there’s no tomorrow. And, new tears spring to his eyes at that thought because there very well might not be a tomorrow.
Dean, apparently having felt the wetness sliding down the other man’s face, pulls back. He looks at Sam for a minute, breathing heavily because Sam is still jerking him earnestly, before reaching up a calloused hand to wipe the tears away. When the action just makes more follow in their tracks, he kisses all over Sam’s face, trying to erase them for good, but still only making more come.
“Sam,” he says quietly, the sound exploding out in a stuttering breath.
Sam closes his eyes and whispers back, “It’s Sammy.”
He accentuates his words with a twist on the upstroke and swiping his thumb over the slit, gathering precum.
Dean lets out a breathy moan, and closes his eyes, his forehead coming to rest on Sam’s. Sam doesn’t dare move, just takes in his brother’s face at the close angle, memorizing every freckle, the curve of his lips, the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. He doesn’t want to acknowledge that Dean’s dying, but he wants to make sure he’s ready for it, that he remembers every detail about the man he loves so much.
Dean moans again as Sam tightens his grip and gets a little faster; his eyes flutter open and one hand comes up to grip Sam’s shoulder hard enough to leave bruises. Their eyes lock, Dean panting from holding back, wanting to make it last, and Sam nods. Dean nods back and just lets go. A few strokes later, Dean comes with a whine that gets swallowed by Sam’s mouth, cum spurting over Sam’s hand.
Sam milks him through the aftershocks and then pulls his hand out from underneath the covers, licking it clean. Dean’s eyes never leave him, watching his movements from underneath heavy eyelids. He tries to smile at the older man, but he knows it comes out mangled, a pale imitation of the real thing.
Dean, however, does manage to smile, in that lazy, sated sort of way - and Sam’s sure he hears his heart break a little.
Hoping he can hide that bone-jarring pain, he asks, “You wanna get changed?”
Dean can barely keep his eyes open anymore and he shakes his head, “Nah, m’tired.”
Sam doesn’t argue, just pulls his brother in closer, and kisses his hair, his forehead, his cheeks, whatever he can reach. He feels Dean’s breathing even back out in the midst of it all, and another tear escapes, rolling down his cheek and into his brother’s hair.
“I’m going to fix you, Dean. So help me, God, I’m not going to live without you. You’re not going to die. You can’t…you can’t leave me,” he whispers brokenly, thankful that Dean can’t hear.
But, to his surprise, he hears an answer, whispered into his neck, in a voice just barely stronger, with more conviction, than his own.
“I won’t.”
* * * * * * * * *
You know the drill! Click the "comment" link! You know you want to. *bats eyelashes*
Author: thelonejuliet
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 861
Rating: PG-13/maybe R
Warnings: Boy kissing, handjobs, angst
Spoilers: "Faith"
Disclaimer: Not mine. The boys belong to Kripke.
Author's Note(s): Two stories in two days? I think my muse is trying to prove I'm a good writer after the whole spn_j2_bigbang ordeal. Anway, not sure where this came from...it's just there. I hope you like it... :) Oh, and it's unbeta'd.
All fics found here.
Summary: Set during "Faith." Faced with an unthinkable life alone, Sam wants to show Dean he loves him.
“Dean? You awake?”
Dean mumbles a little in his sleep, and then tries to move tighter into his brother. Sam smiles warmly at the action, though it fades a little when he sees the grimace of pain - even unconscious, there’s no escaping the fact that Dean is dying.
Sam’s trying to come to grips with that, he is. He knows that this faith healer, whom he failed to tell his brother about, might not work and then he’ll have to face it. But, still, he can’t imagine life without Dean there, and he flat-out refuses to believe that he can’t save him, that there’s not a way.
But, as it is though, he needs to feel Dean, right now, without interruption or hesitation.
So, he tries again, “Dean? Wake up?”
He leans over and places a kiss on the red, bruised eyes in front of him; they flutter but don’t open. And, before he knows it, Sam is maneuvering himself to a better position and slipping his hand past the waistband of Dean’s boxers.
It’s the dead of the night and he knows that maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. But, then a voice screams in his head that this could be his last night with Dean and he wants to do something to show he cares, wants to take care of his older brother.
So, he does, wrapping his fingers somewhat delicately, around Dean’s flaccid sex and stroking slowly. He keeps his eyes on Dean’s face because, after all, the man’s heart is a major problem and too much excitement might send the weakened organ into failure. But, Sam figures if he does it slow, makes it last, makes it good, then maybe the risk will be worth it.
Dean wakes up once he’s completely hard, and blinks at Sam in a mixture of confusion and want. Sam just smiles and leans over to kiss his brother, only lips sliding against each other before Dean makes a strangled, moany sort of sound and opens his lips to deepen the kiss. Sam slips his tongue into his brother’s mouth, caressing Dean’s with his own.
He will never get tired of kissing Dean, the way he kisses like there’s no tomorrow. And, new tears spring to his eyes at that thought because there very well might not be a tomorrow.
Dean, apparently having felt the wetness sliding down the other man’s face, pulls back. He looks at Sam for a minute, breathing heavily because Sam is still jerking him earnestly, before reaching up a calloused hand to wipe the tears away. When the action just makes more follow in their tracks, he kisses all over Sam’s face, trying to erase them for good, but still only making more come.
“Sam,” he says quietly, the sound exploding out in a stuttering breath.
Sam closes his eyes and whispers back, “It’s Sammy.”
He accentuates his words with a twist on the upstroke and swiping his thumb over the slit, gathering precum.
Dean lets out a breathy moan, and closes his eyes, his forehead coming to rest on Sam’s. Sam doesn’t dare move, just takes in his brother’s face at the close angle, memorizing every freckle, the curve of his lips, the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. He doesn’t want to acknowledge that Dean’s dying, but he wants to make sure he’s ready for it, that he remembers every detail about the man he loves so much.
Dean moans again as Sam tightens his grip and gets a little faster; his eyes flutter open and one hand comes up to grip Sam’s shoulder hard enough to leave bruises. Their eyes lock, Dean panting from holding back, wanting to make it last, and Sam nods. Dean nods back and just lets go. A few strokes later, Dean comes with a whine that gets swallowed by Sam’s mouth, cum spurting over Sam’s hand.
Sam milks him through the aftershocks and then pulls his hand out from underneath the covers, licking it clean. Dean’s eyes never leave him, watching his movements from underneath heavy eyelids. He tries to smile at the older man, but he knows it comes out mangled, a pale imitation of the real thing.
Dean, however, does manage to smile, in that lazy, sated sort of way - and Sam’s sure he hears his heart break a little.
Hoping he can hide that bone-jarring pain, he asks, “You wanna get changed?”
Dean can barely keep his eyes open anymore and he shakes his head, “Nah, m’tired.”
Sam doesn’t argue, just pulls his brother in closer, and kisses his hair, his forehead, his cheeks, whatever he can reach. He feels Dean’s breathing even back out in the midst of it all, and another tear escapes, rolling down his cheek and into his brother’s hair.
“I’m going to fix you, Dean. So help me, God, I’m not going to live without you. You’re not going to die. You can’t…you can’t leave me,” he whispers brokenly, thankful that Dean can’t hear.
But, to his surprise, he hears an answer, whispered into his neck, in a voice just barely stronger, with more conviction, than his own.
“I won’t.”
* * * * * * * * *
You know the drill! Click the "comment" link! You know you want to. *bats eyelashes*