Beneath the Magnolia's Boughs - Part Nine
Beneath the Magnolia's Boughs - Part Nine
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Pairing: Dean/Sam, other characters include John, Mary, Missouri, OMC, OFC, and a person who bears a resemblance to the YED.
Category: M/M, AU, Historical
Summary: In the Old South, the heirs of two plantations are married against their will. One a tool to his father's aspirations, the other struck for life by a repulsive curse, will they be able to make a happy future together?
Part Nine
Dean did not believe he could possibly be prouder. The plantation was producing at an even higher level than usual due to the latest modifications he had made on all their equipment. Production on the Whitman Plantation was also up now that he and Sam had looked at the day to day operations and improved as much as they could. The slaves themselves were certainly happier with the new arrangements, as any excess from the Winchester plantation was distributed into their destitute hands. Fredric, apparently, wasn’t concerned with their changes, only caring that he had money at his fingertips to indulge in his ever-deteriorating ways. Dean was happy as long as he had as little to do with the man as possible, and was well aware that the feeling was entirely mutual. He hated, however, that this sometimes left Sam between them, being pulled in two very different directions. And Dean understood what it was that truly upset his husband; not that Dean fought with Fredric - in fact, Dean was fairly sure that Sam enjoyed seeing someone disagree with his father - but that Sam was never going to meet with the man’s approval. Dean loathed seeing Sam hurt, and having any part in it, but there was something about his father-in-law that brought out the stubbornest, most contrary side of Dean.
Between Sam and himself, though, things were going very well. They had never been too adversarial. Their only problems had stemmed from a lack of communication and each trying to prove themselves to the other, neither willing to admit that they were afraid and out of their depth. Now that they were taking things a step at a time everything was much smoother, and they had learned to talk to each other. Dean had been pleasantly surprised to find out that Sam shared his love of horse riding. When Dean had admitted that he missed being able to ride off by himself every day - missed the freedom and the chance to escape all the pressures laid upon him as the only heir, one with a curse he’d had little hope of breaking - Sam had made a similar admission himself. Sam, too, had taken any opportunity he could find to leave behind him the stress of his mother’s illness and the infuriating accounts, taking a book and losing himself in it in whatever remote part of the plantation he found to his liking. They still had their differences, but now they recognised them as strengths rather then weaknesses: Sam had acknowledged that he didn’t understand what Dean did out in the machinery shed, but that he could see the impressive results of his know-how. In turn, Dean had declared that while his bookkeeping was sufficient to get by, Sam’s grasp of their financials was superior, thus making the running of the plantation much easier. Sam also commented on Dean’s skill as a marksman, noting that his own abilities left something to be desired. Dean had been concerned for, though they lived in a civilised part of the country, it was not unheard of for some wild animal or another to attack a man on the road. He had vowed to teach Sam how to better his aim, and the younger man had seemed eager to learn. In return, Sam had offered to teach Dean about boxing - a sport he had indulged in from time to time to vent his frustration with his father and which could certainly be useful for self-defence against the bigoted men around town - and they had already spent a few hours in the hayshed practicing on a grain sack suspended from the overhead beams. It was more than Dean had ever dared to hope for. Sam was more than Dean had ever dared to hope for, and even Jenkins had been prodded to comment on his Master’s contentment.
***
Sam was livid. He had barely started upon the Whitman Plantation’s expenses when he had come across a bill of purchase for yet another thoroughbred for his father’s stable. This was what he had married for? So his father could reap the benefits? The man had no shame, carelessly spending even more now that he had the wealth of the Winchesters behind him. The spark of an idea occurred to Sam and, with a self-satisfied smirk, he strode out to the stable. With ease of practice he saddled one of the Winchester’s sturdy geldings and prepared to ride across to his once-home. Barely started down the rough road, he spotted Missouri.
“Missouri!” His call brought her attention to him, warm smile on her face. “Good afternoon, Missouri. If you see Dean looking for me, could you tell him I’ve just got to check on something with my father? I will be home for the evening meal.”
“Good afternoon, Samuel. I’ll be certain to let him know if I see him.” Her smile widened slightly as she added, “And I heartily approve, young man. He’ll love it.”
Sam barely kept his mouth from dropping open. How had she known…? He decided it was probably better left unsaid and instead settled for thanking her before setting himself for the Whitman plantation. It had been a week since he had last visited his mother, Dean by his side. He looked forward to seeing her again. She would wonder where Dean was, as she seemed to have taken a genuine liking to his husband. The feeling was mutual, Sam knew. As was the animosity between Dean and Sam’s father. Thoughts of that man set his mind back to his plan. His eyes narrowed as he gently kicked the horse into a canter, determination written in every line of his face. It was time for him to stand up and be counted.
***
“Samuel.” His father’s dry voice grated across Sam’s nerves. “To what do we owe this…pleasure?” The hesitation was brief, but long enough for it to be clear that he wasn’t welcome.
“I’ve come for Black Impala.” Sam’s answer was straight to the point. Since he was standing beside the horse in question, bridle in hand, he assumed that his position was clear, but added nonetheless, “I’m taking her with me.”
“You will do no such thing.” Fredric’s snarl was accompanied by a menacing step forward.
“I think you’ll find that it is exactly what I am doing.” This time, the son who craved his father’s affection was nowhere to be seen, and a grown man, strong and determined, stood in his place.
“That animal is my property and I will have the law on you so fast your head will spin.” Since the local lawmen were long-time friends of his father, Sam had no doubt that was true, but Fredric’s smugness was short-lived.
“She was bought and paid for with money from the Winchester plantation. That makes her property of the Winchesters and, in case you’ve forgotten the little deal you brokered, I am a Winchester now.” Sam felt pride at the truth of that statement and stood taller. He had several inches on his father and knew how to use that height to intimidate. It felt good to finally be free of his father’s influence.
“My name is on the contract.” Fredric shot back, though he had lost some of his certainty. Sam knew why.
“A contract that will not be honoured unless I choose to do so.” Pausing for effect, and a little giddy with his success, Sam turned to bridle the filly and tossed over his shoulder, “Consider it the wedding gift you never bothered to give us.”
Sam heard the frustrated growl behind him and braced himself for a blow but, when he turned again, it was to see his father striding furiously out of the stable. He briefly hoped that no one else would pay for the other man’s foul mood, but could not keep the smile from his face. Dean was going to love her. Sam had seen the way he looked at Fredric’s thoroughbreds whenever they came to visit; admiration and appreciation clearly written on his expressive face. Returning his attention to the horse, he stroked a gentle hand down her silky neck. “You’re perfect.” He whispered.
***
“Dean? De-ean?” A smile broke across Dean’s face at his husband’s childlike call.
“Back here!” Sam didn’t come out here very often, and Dean was always amused when watching him make his way through the machinery while trying very hard not to touch anything dirty. This time, however, Sam stayed in the doorway.
“Can you come out here? There’s something I want to show you.” Curious, and a little excited by the enthusiasm he could hear in Sam’s voice, Dean did as asked, making sure to wipe the grease off his hands on the way. By the time he reached the doorway, Sam was gone, but he heard him call out, “I’m around the side.”
Shaking his head slightly at Sam’s games, he rounded the corner…and stopped dead. Of all the things Dean might have imagined Sam wanting him for, this wasn’t one of them. Sam was standing there smiling widely, a beautiful thoroughbred filly by his side. She stood straight and tall, as though she knew just what a striking picture she made. Her pure black hide gleamed like velvet in the sunlight. There was pride in her carriage, and breeding in the haughty line of her neck. Dean’s question was, what was she doing here? “Sam?”
“This is Black Impala. My father just bought her yesterday.” Sam hesitated, shyness and a little uncertainty creeping into his voice. “I wanted you to have her.”
“You wanted…” Dean stopped short of dumbly repeating his husband. “What do you mean? What about your father?”
Sam started at the beginning. “I was doing the Whitman Plantation expenses when I came across the bill of purchase. I was so angry, because this is what got us into debt in the first place, and now it’s your money he’s wasting, and that’s not why I married you. So I was about to go over there and make him return the horse, but then I reconsidered and decided that I wanted to give her to you. I knew you would appreciate her. She’ll be a real beauty to ride.” Dean was surprised, but warmed by the gesture. Sam’s face darkened as he continued, “Father wasn’t pleased, as you might imagine. But this time I wasn’t going to let him win. I told him we were the ones paying for her, so she was ours by rights. He would have argued more, I think, but I threatened to leave the bill unpaid…”
Dean had heard enough. He was inordinately proud of Sam for standing up to Fredric, even as he knew how much it had to have hurt him to give up all hope of receiving that foolish man’s love. He quickly closed the remaining distance between them and threw his arms around Sam’s neck, winding his fingers into the long, soft strands of his hair and pulling him down to meet the upwards tilt of his mouth. Dean hoped the kiss told Sam all the things he didn’t know how to tell him, that it conveyed all the emotions crashing around inside of him. He had known for some time that he was in love with Sam, but he was afraid that his affection outweighed the other man’s, so he kept quiet, not wishing to either embarrass himself or place guilt on his husband’s shoulders. Sometimes though, like now, it was hard to reign in that love, and the best he could do was draw back and whisper, “I love her. She’s amazing, Sam. Thank you so much.”
With one last peck, Dean pulled away and went to the animal’s side. Immediately, she lowered her soft nose and started to smell at him, soft whuffs of air breezing across his temples, his cheeks and his neck. It tickled, and Dean laughed, thumping her flank with affection. “Well now, aren’t you a pretty girl.” She gave a soft whicker as though in agreement and he snickered again. “And don’t you know it,” he added wryly. “Impala, huh?”
“It’s a type of antelope.” Sam told him.
“I know.” Dean replied. “I guess that means you’re fast and agile. Is that right, my pretty girl? Yes, I bet you are.” In fact, Dean could see for himself that she was bred for speed. He and his father had never indulged in the purchase of an animal that wasn’t for practical use, but Dean had always admired the magnificent purebreds most of his neighbours insisted upon. His Impala, however, was possibly the most striking horse he had ever seen. He stroked her satiny hide, letting his nails scratch lightly through the hair, and she shivered beneath his touch. Dean smiled, knowing already that he was going to spoil his beauty. Again he looked up at Sam and whispered, “Thank you.” Sam’s wide smile made his heart dance.
***
That night, it was Dean who took Sam’s hand and led him up to his room. Sam hesitated only a moment before following him through the door. Dean had realised, eventually, what Sam had been doing every time he took them up to his own bedroom. Now, Dean decided it was time for Sam to know that he wasn’t afraid of any bad memories coming back to haunt him, and that there was no reason for Sam to protect him from nothing more than a bedroom. As soon as he had shut the door, Dean turned to Sam. “Would you undress and lay on the bed for me?”
Sam nodded. “Of course, Dean. Whatever you want.”
Dean began to remove his clothing too, slower than Sam, deliberately drawing out the moment so Sam was naked before he was. He watched as Sam lay down on the bed; all six feet plus of smooth, supple flesh and untapped potential. Dean planned to explore tonight, and this was only the first step. He took off his last article of clothing and laid it neatly over the back of the chair before he sashayed his way across to the bed and his expectant husband. With graceful, economical movements, Dean climbed over Sam, straddling his waist and staring down at the man he still had trouble believing was his, because Sam was stunning; with his floppy hair and slanted hazel eyes, his sharp cheekbones and dimpled smile. Also not to be discounted were his sleek muscles and long limbs, the smoothness of his hands and the firmness of his touch. Dean had always appreciated beauty, and his Sam was all he could have wanted, and more. For Sam wasn’t just attractive on the outside. Once he had realised that he would not be judged as weak, Sam had revealed an innately gentle nature and a kindness toward others. To Dean in particular, he had proven himself a considerate and dedicated partner. Dean wanted to let Sam know that he was treasured and that his efforts to change his outlook were not unnoticed.
“Will you let me explore tonight, Sam? To just take my time and discover every inch of you?” Dean was watching Sam’s eyes as he asked, and he saw the acceptance before he heard the words.
“I am yours to do with as you wish.” To prove his point, Sam moved his hands behind his head and lay back, baring himself entirely to his husband’s whim.
Dean started off slowly, placing his hands on Sam’s chest and leaning down to seal their mouths together. The kiss was unhurried, a reacquainting of sorts, and they relaxed into each other before Dean began to pepper little pecking kisses across Sam’s cheek. When he got to Sam’s ear, however, Dean sucked the lobe into his mouth, releasing it slowly through his teeth. Sam gave a surprised moan and shivered delicately as Dean’s breath feathered over the sensitized flesh in airy laughter. “You taste good, Sam. Did I mention I’m hungry?” Sam didn’t answer, too distracted by the nibbling path Dean was making down his neck and across his shoulder. Dean fought off the urge to bite down, not sure that Sam would like that, but filed it away in his mind as something to perhaps try at a later date. He had a vague idea that he would like it should the tables be turned.
As he had suggested, Dean took his time, tasting as much of Sam as he could, using his lips and tongue and the light graze of his teeth to make Sam shift and writhe beneath him. His nipples were given special attention, causing them to pebble and Sam to make desperate little noises in his throat as he arched up into the assault. When Dean reached his belly button, flickering his tongue into the little swirl, Sam gasped and nearly unseated Dean with his shocked undulation. “Dean!”
“Shhh. I’m going to make you feel good, Sam.” Dean hoped he was telling the truth. He had never done what he was he was about to attempt, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to do what was needed. But he was certainly going to try.
Sam’s manhood was now bumping his chin, but Dean bypassed it in favour of moving lower, nuzzling beneath. He cautiously licked one of the heavy sacs hanging there, but repeated the move with more enthusiasm as he found he didn’t mind the dark, musky scent of Sam or the salty flavour of his flesh. Sam’s hands were abruptly in Dean’s hair, trying to grasp at the short strands. “Dean! What are you doing?” Dean didn’t answer. Sam hadn’t sounded angry, or disgusted, but rather shocked, so Dean didn’t feel it was necessary to stop. He continued to lick at first one and then the other sac, his nose nudging the underside of the impressive erection above them. The hands on Dean’s head were squeezing rhythmically, in time with the kittenish licks Dean was bestowing upon Sam. Feeling brave, Dean finally turned his attention to the straining hardness that had been his goal all along. He licked up the underside and over the bulbous head. Salty bitterness burst across his tongue, but Dean decided he didn’t mind the flavour, so he took the tip into his mouth, keeping his teeth carefully away from the tender flesh and sucking slightly. Sam mewled, his hips jerking up, instinctively trying to bury himself deeper. Luckily, Dean had expected such a reaction and had his hands pushing down, keeping Sam from completing his thrust. He moved lower, slowly taking in more and more of the rigid length, licking and sucking and cataloguing all the sounds of pleasure that told him where his ministrations were best placed.
“Oh God! Dean...that’s...ughn...you...your mouth...so hot...so....please...”
Dean looked up his husband’s body, noting the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the open mouth, the closed eyes, and the way his hands were clenched, fisting the sheets in rhythm with Dean’s suckling. Pleasure didn’t look so different from pain, but Dean could tell Sam was enjoying this new experience. The salty fluid continued to leak from Sam’s tip, filling his mouth, and Dean had to swallow. Sam slipped slightly deeper, almost into his throat, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Dean wondered how much deeper he could take him. Action immediately following thought, Dean pushed down more, swallowing again. His throat seemed to open and close over the intruding member, causing Sam to give a long, drawn out moan in response. Dean concentrated on breathing through his nose and kept up the swallowing motion that seemed to void his body’s natural inclination to retch.
Suddenly, Sam’s hands were wrapped around Dean’s head, gripping frantically at the short strands of his hair. There was a trace of panic in Sam’s voice when he rambled, “Dean! Oh God, oh God…that’s…you’re…I can’t…you have to…I’m going to…Dean!” This last was accompanied by the first gush of climax spilling down Dean’s throat and Dean knew he had a choice to let Sam finish in his mouth, or to pull back and have him spend himself over the sheets. It seemed to Dean that one was far more intimate than the other, so that was what he chose. Hoping Sam would understand, Dean groaned encouragingly in his throat. Whether he had grasped Dean’s approval, or he simply couldn’t hold back, Sam arched up and gave a loud shout as his release erupted out of him. Dean did his best to swallow as much as he could, only a small amount leaking out of the corners of his mouth, and continued to suck until Sam made a sound that was more pained than pleased. He pulled off with a last gentle lap to the head and smiled uncertainly up at Sam.
“Was that…ah, good?”
Sam laughed incredulously. “Good? My God, Dean. That was amazing. Where on earth did you get the idea to try that?”
“Same place you did.” Dean replied with an embarrassed shrug.
“You’ve been reading the books too?” Sam looked at Dean, surprised.
Dean frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? We’re partners. I want to be just as good for you as you want to be for me.”
“Oh, no, I know that. I just...ah, well...I guess I thought that since you are the one who we have to get pregnant, that I should...be the one finding out the how. And...and you seemed so...natural, I didn’t think you would need the books.” Sam sighed. “I really messed up with you in the beginning. I just wanted to make it right. I wasn’t really thinking beyond that.” Sam admitted, and then smiled widely. “But I sure am glad you did read them.”
Dean shook his head. “We were both at fault, Sam. I could have said something sooner. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. We worked it out in the end.”
“Yeah, we did.” Sam agreed and tugged Dean up until they lay face to face. When Sam’s fingers gently caressed his sensitized lips, Dean finally felt content, confident now that Sam wasn’t disgusted by what he had done. He felt that, and more, when Sam leaned closer and closed his mouth over Dean’s, lapping into it and jolting slightly when he tasted himself. As he continued to kiss him, Sam’s hand crept down Dean’s body to wrap around his still mostly-hard member. “Mmmmm.” Sam sighed against Dean’s lips. “Let go for me, Dean. I’ve got you now.”
It didn’t take very much more stimulation for Dean to do just that, arching into Sam’s grasp and relaxing into his embrace as his body floated down from the sudden high. They lay there panting together, satisfied and comfortable and at ease. Dean snuggled closer, and Sam held him slightly tighter. Finally, Dean spoke up, mischief in his heart. “Get me another horse and we’ll see what I can do tomorrow.”
“Oh, God!” Sam played along. “What have I started?”
Sleepily, they shared laughter. Dean wished he had been able to whisper the truth; that he was in love with Sam.
***
Fredric stood in the open doorway of the empty stall in his stable. The rage boiled within him, making him tremble to contain it. His son would be made to pay for this outrage. His son and those bleeding-heart Winchesters. He had been patient, but now it was time to act. Now they would all discover, too late, how unwise it was to mess with Fredric Talbot.
TBC
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Pairing: Dean/Sam, other characters include John, Mary, Missouri, OMC, OFC, and a person who bears a resemblance to the YED.
Category: M/M, AU, Historical
Summary: In the Old South, the heirs of two plantations are married against their will. One a tool to his father's aspirations, the other struck for life by a repulsive curse, will they be able to make a happy future together?
Part Nine
Dean did not believe he could possibly be prouder. The plantation was producing at an even higher level than usual due to the latest modifications he had made on all their equipment. Production on the Whitman Plantation was also up now that he and Sam had looked at the day to day operations and improved as much as they could. The slaves themselves were certainly happier with the new arrangements, as any excess from the Winchester plantation was distributed into their destitute hands. Fredric, apparently, wasn’t concerned with their changes, only caring that he had money at his fingertips to indulge in his ever-deteriorating ways. Dean was happy as long as he had as little to do with the man as possible, and was well aware that the feeling was entirely mutual. He hated, however, that this sometimes left Sam between them, being pulled in two very different directions. And Dean understood what it was that truly upset his husband; not that Dean fought with Fredric - in fact, Dean was fairly sure that Sam enjoyed seeing someone disagree with his father - but that Sam was never going to meet with the man’s approval. Dean loathed seeing Sam hurt, and having any part in it, but there was something about his father-in-law that brought out the stubbornest, most contrary side of Dean.
Between Sam and himself, though, things were going very well. They had never been too adversarial. Their only problems had stemmed from a lack of communication and each trying to prove themselves to the other, neither willing to admit that they were afraid and out of their depth. Now that they were taking things a step at a time everything was much smoother, and they had learned to talk to each other. Dean had been pleasantly surprised to find out that Sam shared his love of horse riding. When Dean had admitted that he missed being able to ride off by himself every day - missed the freedom and the chance to escape all the pressures laid upon him as the only heir, one with a curse he’d had little hope of breaking - Sam had made a similar admission himself. Sam, too, had taken any opportunity he could find to leave behind him the stress of his mother’s illness and the infuriating accounts, taking a book and losing himself in it in whatever remote part of the plantation he found to his liking. They still had their differences, but now they recognised them as strengths rather then weaknesses: Sam had acknowledged that he didn’t understand what Dean did out in the machinery shed, but that he could see the impressive results of his know-how. In turn, Dean had declared that while his bookkeeping was sufficient to get by, Sam’s grasp of their financials was superior, thus making the running of the plantation much easier. Sam also commented on Dean’s skill as a marksman, noting that his own abilities left something to be desired. Dean had been concerned for, though they lived in a civilised part of the country, it was not unheard of for some wild animal or another to attack a man on the road. He had vowed to teach Sam how to better his aim, and the younger man had seemed eager to learn. In return, Sam had offered to teach Dean about boxing - a sport he had indulged in from time to time to vent his frustration with his father and which could certainly be useful for self-defence against the bigoted men around town - and they had already spent a few hours in the hayshed practicing on a grain sack suspended from the overhead beams. It was more than Dean had ever dared to hope for. Sam was more than Dean had ever dared to hope for, and even Jenkins had been prodded to comment on his Master’s contentment.
***
Sam was livid. He had barely started upon the Whitman Plantation’s expenses when he had come across a bill of purchase for yet another thoroughbred for his father’s stable. This was what he had married for? So his father could reap the benefits? The man had no shame, carelessly spending even more now that he had the wealth of the Winchesters behind him. The spark of an idea occurred to Sam and, with a self-satisfied smirk, he strode out to the stable. With ease of practice he saddled one of the Winchester’s sturdy geldings and prepared to ride across to his once-home. Barely started down the rough road, he spotted Missouri.
“Missouri!” His call brought her attention to him, warm smile on her face. “Good afternoon, Missouri. If you see Dean looking for me, could you tell him I’ve just got to check on something with my father? I will be home for the evening meal.”
“Good afternoon, Samuel. I’ll be certain to let him know if I see him.” Her smile widened slightly as she added, “And I heartily approve, young man. He’ll love it.”
Sam barely kept his mouth from dropping open. How had she known…? He decided it was probably better left unsaid and instead settled for thanking her before setting himself for the Whitman plantation. It had been a week since he had last visited his mother, Dean by his side. He looked forward to seeing her again. She would wonder where Dean was, as she seemed to have taken a genuine liking to his husband. The feeling was mutual, Sam knew. As was the animosity between Dean and Sam’s father. Thoughts of that man set his mind back to his plan. His eyes narrowed as he gently kicked the horse into a canter, determination written in every line of his face. It was time for him to stand up and be counted.
***
“Samuel.” His father’s dry voice grated across Sam’s nerves. “To what do we owe this…pleasure?” The hesitation was brief, but long enough for it to be clear that he wasn’t welcome.
“I’ve come for Black Impala.” Sam’s answer was straight to the point. Since he was standing beside the horse in question, bridle in hand, he assumed that his position was clear, but added nonetheless, “I’m taking her with me.”
“You will do no such thing.” Fredric’s snarl was accompanied by a menacing step forward.
“I think you’ll find that it is exactly what I am doing.” This time, the son who craved his father’s affection was nowhere to be seen, and a grown man, strong and determined, stood in his place.
“That animal is my property and I will have the law on you so fast your head will spin.” Since the local lawmen were long-time friends of his father, Sam had no doubt that was true, but Fredric’s smugness was short-lived.
“She was bought and paid for with money from the Winchester plantation. That makes her property of the Winchesters and, in case you’ve forgotten the little deal you brokered, I am a Winchester now.” Sam felt pride at the truth of that statement and stood taller. He had several inches on his father and knew how to use that height to intimidate. It felt good to finally be free of his father’s influence.
“My name is on the contract.” Fredric shot back, though he had lost some of his certainty. Sam knew why.
“A contract that will not be honoured unless I choose to do so.” Pausing for effect, and a little giddy with his success, Sam turned to bridle the filly and tossed over his shoulder, “Consider it the wedding gift you never bothered to give us.”
Sam heard the frustrated growl behind him and braced himself for a blow but, when he turned again, it was to see his father striding furiously out of the stable. He briefly hoped that no one else would pay for the other man’s foul mood, but could not keep the smile from his face. Dean was going to love her. Sam had seen the way he looked at Fredric’s thoroughbreds whenever they came to visit; admiration and appreciation clearly written on his expressive face. Returning his attention to the horse, he stroked a gentle hand down her silky neck. “You’re perfect.” He whispered.
***
“Dean? De-ean?” A smile broke across Dean’s face at his husband’s childlike call.
“Back here!” Sam didn’t come out here very often, and Dean was always amused when watching him make his way through the machinery while trying very hard not to touch anything dirty. This time, however, Sam stayed in the doorway.
“Can you come out here? There’s something I want to show you.” Curious, and a little excited by the enthusiasm he could hear in Sam’s voice, Dean did as asked, making sure to wipe the grease off his hands on the way. By the time he reached the doorway, Sam was gone, but he heard him call out, “I’m around the side.”
Shaking his head slightly at Sam’s games, he rounded the corner…and stopped dead. Of all the things Dean might have imagined Sam wanting him for, this wasn’t one of them. Sam was standing there smiling widely, a beautiful thoroughbred filly by his side. She stood straight and tall, as though she knew just what a striking picture she made. Her pure black hide gleamed like velvet in the sunlight. There was pride in her carriage, and breeding in the haughty line of her neck. Dean’s question was, what was she doing here? “Sam?”
“This is Black Impala. My father just bought her yesterday.” Sam hesitated, shyness and a little uncertainty creeping into his voice. “I wanted you to have her.”
“You wanted…” Dean stopped short of dumbly repeating his husband. “What do you mean? What about your father?”
Sam started at the beginning. “I was doing the Whitman Plantation expenses when I came across the bill of purchase. I was so angry, because this is what got us into debt in the first place, and now it’s your money he’s wasting, and that’s not why I married you. So I was about to go over there and make him return the horse, but then I reconsidered and decided that I wanted to give her to you. I knew you would appreciate her. She’ll be a real beauty to ride.” Dean was surprised, but warmed by the gesture. Sam’s face darkened as he continued, “Father wasn’t pleased, as you might imagine. But this time I wasn’t going to let him win. I told him we were the ones paying for her, so she was ours by rights. He would have argued more, I think, but I threatened to leave the bill unpaid…”
Dean had heard enough. He was inordinately proud of Sam for standing up to Fredric, even as he knew how much it had to have hurt him to give up all hope of receiving that foolish man’s love. He quickly closed the remaining distance between them and threw his arms around Sam’s neck, winding his fingers into the long, soft strands of his hair and pulling him down to meet the upwards tilt of his mouth. Dean hoped the kiss told Sam all the things he didn’t know how to tell him, that it conveyed all the emotions crashing around inside of him. He had known for some time that he was in love with Sam, but he was afraid that his affection outweighed the other man’s, so he kept quiet, not wishing to either embarrass himself or place guilt on his husband’s shoulders. Sometimes though, like now, it was hard to reign in that love, and the best he could do was draw back and whisper, “I love her. She’s amazing, Sam. Thank you so much.”
With one last peck, Dean pulled away and went to the animal’s side. Immediately, she lowered her soft nose and started to smell at him, soft whuffs of air breezing across his temples, his cheeks and his neck. It tickled, and Dean laughed, thumping her flank with affection. “Well now, aren’t you a pretty girl.” She gave a soft whicker as though in agreement and he snickered again. “And don’t you know it,” he added wryly. “Impala, huh?”
“It’s a type of antelope.” Sam told him.
“I know.” Dean replied. “I guess that means you’re fast and agile. Is that right, my pretty girl? Yes, I bet you are.” In fact, Dean could see for himself that she was bred for speed. He and his father had never indulged in the purchase of an animal that wasn’t for practical use, but Dean had always admired the magnificent purebreds most of his neighbours insisted upon. His Impala, however, was possibly the most striking horse he had ever seen. He stroked her satiny hide, letting his nails scratch lightly through the hair, and she shivered beneath his touch. Dean smiled, knowing already that he was going to spoil his beauty. Again he looked up at Sam and whispered, “Thank you.” Sam’s wide smile made his heart dance.
***
That night, it was Dean who took Sam’s hand and led him up to his room. Sam hesitated only a moment before following him through the door. Dean had realised, eventually, what Sam had been doing every time he took them up to his own bedroom. Now, Dean decided it was time for Sam to know that he wasn’t afraid of any bad memories coming back to haunt him, and that there was no reason for Sam to protect him from nothing more than a bedroom. As soon as he had shut the door, Dean turned to Sam. “Would you undress and lay on the bed for me?”
Sam nodded. “Of course, Dean. Whatever you want.”
Dean began to remove his clothing too, slower than Sam, deliberately drawing out the moment so Sam was naked before he was. He watched as Sam lay down on the bed; all six feet plus of smooth, supple flesh and untapped potential. Dean planned to explore tonight, and this was only the first step. He took off his last article of clothing and laid it neatly over the back of the chair before he sashayed his way across to the bed and his expectant husband. With graceful, economical movements, Dean climbed over Sam, straddling his waist and staring down at the man he still had trouble believing was his, because Sam was stunning; with his floppy hair and slanted hazel eyes, his sharp cheekbones and dimpled smile. Also not to be discounted were his sleek muscles and long limbs, the smoothness of his hands and the firmness of his touch. Dean had always appreciated beauty, and his Sam was all he could have wanted, and more. For Sam wasn’t just attractive on the outside. Once he had realised that he would not be judged as weak, Sam had revealed an innately gentle nature and a kindness toward others. To Dean in particular, he had proven himself a considerate and dedicated partner. Dean wanted to let Sam know that he was treasured and that his efforts to change his outlook were not unnoticed.
“Will you let me explore tonight, Sam? To just take my time and discover every inch of you?” Dean was watching Sam’s eyes as he asked, and he saw the acceptance before he heard the words.
“I am yours to do with as you wish.” To prove his point, Sam moved his hands behind his head and lay back, baring himself entirely to his husband’s whim.
Dean started off slowly, placing his hands on Sam’s chest and leaning down to seal their mouths together. The kiss was unhurried, a reacquainting of sorts, and they relaxed into each other before Dean began to pepper little pecking kisses across Sam’s cheek. When he got to Sam’s ear, however, Dean sucked the lobe into his mouth, releasing it slowly through his teeth. Sam gave a surprised moan and shivered delicately as Dean’s breath feathered over the sensitized flesh in airy laughter. “You taste good, Sam. Did I mention I’m hungry?” Sam didn’t answer, too distracted by the nibbling path Dean was making down his neck and across his shoulder. Dean fought off the urge to bite down, not sure that Sam would like that, but filed it away in his mind as something to perhaps try at a later date. He had a vague idea that he would like it should the tables be turned.
As he had suggested, Dean took his time, tasting as much of Sam as he could, using his lips and tongue and the light graze of his teeth to make Sam shift and writhe beneath him. His nipples were given special attention, causing them to pebble and Sam to make desperate little noises in his throat as he arched up into the assault. When Dean reached his belly button, flickering his tongue into the little swirl, Sam gasped and nearly unseated Dean with his shocked undulation. “Dean!”
“Shhh. I’m going to make you feel good, Sam.” Dean hoped he was telling the truth. He had never done what he was he was about to attempt, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to do what was needed. But he was certainly going to try.
Sam’s manhood was now bumping his chin, but Dean bypassed it in favour of moving lower, nuzzling beneath. He cautiously licked one of the heavy sacs hanging there, but repeated the move with more enthusiasm as he found he didn’t mind the dark, musky scent of Sam or the salty flavour of his flesh. Sam’s hands were abruptly in Dean’s hair, trying to grasp at the short strands. “Dean! What are you doing?” Dean didn’t answer. Sam hadn’t sounded angry, or disgusted, but rather shocked, so Dean didn’t feel it was necessary to stop. He continued to lick at first one and then the other sac, his nose nudging the underside of the impressive erection above them. The hands on Dean’s head were squeezing rhythmically, in time with the kittenish licks Dean was bestowing upon Sam. Feeling brave, Dean finally turned his attention to the straining hardness that had been his goal all along. He licked up the underside and over the bulbous head. Salty bitterness burst across his tongue, but Dean decided he didn’t mind the flavour, so he took the tip into his mouth, keeping his teeth carefully away from the tender flesh and sucking slightly. Sam mewled, his hips jerking up, instinctively trying to bury himself deeper. Luckily, Dean had expected such a reaction and had his hands pushing down, keeping Sam from completing his thrust. He moved lower, slowly taking in more and more of the rigid length, licking and sucking and cataloguing all the sounds of pleasure that told him where his ministrations were best placed.
“Oh God! Dean...that’s...ughn...you...your mouth...so hot...so....please...”
Dean looked up his husband’s body, noting the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the open mouth, the closed eyes, and the way his hands were clenched, fisting the sheets in rhythm with Dean’s suckling. Pleasure didn’t look so different from pain, but Dean could tell Sam was enjoying this new experience. The salty fluid continued to leak from Sam’s tip, filling his mouth, and Dean had to swallow. Sam slipped slightly deeper, almost into his throat, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Dean wondered how much deeper he could take him. Action immediately following thought, Dean pushed down more, swallowing again. His throat seemed to open and close over the intruding member, causing Sam to give a long, drawn out moan in response. Dean concentrated on breathing through his nose and kept up the swallowing motion that seemed to void his body’s natural inclination to retch.
Suddenly, Sam’s hands were wrapped around Dean’s head, gripping frantically at the short strands of his hair. There was a trace of panic in Sam’s voice when he rambled, “Dean! Oh God, oh God…that’s…you’re…I can’t…you have to…I’m going to…Dean!” This last was accompanied by the first gush of climax spilling down Dean’s throat and Dean knew he had a choice to let Sam finish in his mouth, or to pull back and have him spend himself over the sheets. It seemed to Dean that one was far more intimate than the other, so that was what he chose. Hoping Sam would understand, Dean groaned encouragingly in his throat. Whether he had grasped Dean’s approval, or he simply couldn’t hold back, Sam arched up and gave a loud shout as his release erupted out of him. Dean did his best to swallow as much as he could, only a small amount leaking out of the corners of his mouth, and continued to suck until Sam made a sound that was more pained than pleased. He pulled off with a last gentle lap to the head and smiled uncertainly up at Sam.
“Was that…ah, good?”
Sam laughed incredulously. “Good? My God, Dean. That was amazing. Where on earth did you get the idea to try that?”
“Same place you did.” Dean replied with an embarrassed shrug.
“You’ve been reading the books too?” Sam looked at Dean, surprised.
Dean frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? We’re partners. I want to be just as good for you as you want to be for me.”
“Oh, no, I know that. I just...ah, well...I guess I thought that since you are the one who we have to get pregnant, that I should...be the one finding out the how. And...and you seemed so...natural, I didn’t think you would need the books.” Sam sighed. “I really messed up with you in the beginning. I just wanted to make it right. I wasn’t really thinking beyond that.” Sam admitted, and then smiled widely. “But I sure am glad you did read them.”
Dean shook his head. “We were both at fault, Sam. I could have said something sooner. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. We worked it out in the end.”
“Yeah, we did.” Sam agreed and tugged Dean up until they lay face to face. When Sam’s fingers gently caressed his sensitized lips, Dean finally felt content, confident now that Sam wasn’t disgusted by what he had done. He felt that, and more, when Sam leaned closer and closed his mouth over Dean’s, lapping into it and jolting slightly when he tasted himself. As he continued to kiss him, Sam’s hand crept down Dean’s body to wrap around his still mostly-hard member. “Mmmmm.” Sam sighed against Dean’s lips. “Let go for me, Dean. I’ve got you now.”
It didn’t take very much more stimulation for Dean to do just that, arching into Sam’s grasp and relaxing into his embrace as his body floated down from the sudden high. They lay there panting together, satisfied and comfortable and at ease. Dean snuggled closer, and Sam held him slightly tighter. Finally, Dean spoke up, mischief in his heart. “Get me another horse and we’ll see what I can do tomorrow.”
“Oh, God!” Sam played along. “What have I started?”
Sleepily, they shared laughter. Dean wished he had been able to whisper the truth; that he was in love with Sam.
***
Fredric stood in the open doorway of the empty stall in his stable. The rage boiled within him, making him tremble to contain it. His son would be made to pay for this outrage. His son and those bleeding-heart Winchesters. He had been patient, but now it was time to act. Now they would all discover, too late, how unwise it was to mess with Fredric Talbot.
TBC