"Lost and Found: Spiral"
Title: Spiral
’Verse: Lost and Found
Author: LadyMacbeth
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG13 (for some cussin’ and some kissin’)
Word Count: 2587
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” and all its characters belong to the genius that is Eric Kripke. I make no profit.
Summary: Missouri reveals a secret to the boys that send them on a journey to Santa Cruz where they find a brother they never knew and an even darker revelation that none of them saw coming.
The story so far:
1. Santa Cruz
2. The Road to Missouri
3. Revelations
4. Look Back, Leap Forward
5. Second Sight
6. Fury and Fitchburg
7. Conjoined
8. Distant Voices
9. The Warning
10. Wrought Asunder
11. Family Ties
12. Black Dog
13. Splitting Down the Seems
And now:
*****
“So what now?” Bobby sighs after a long pull from his beer. He and Priestly are seated at the kitchen table, staring at its surface bleakly, both still reeling.
“I don’t know,” Priestly whispers, drink growing warm in his hand. “Sam’s finally gotten him to get some sleep, but when he wakes up…” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to help him. I’m sure Missouri would have some idea, but we haven’t been able to get a hold of her for almost two weeks.”
Bobby’s forehead crinkles in thought. He takes another slow drink of beer before saying, “Sounds to me like we need to find ourselves another psychic.”
*****
“Dean?” Sam whispers into his brother’s ear. “Dean, I know you probably can’t hear me right now, but there’s something I have to say.”
He shifts on the bed, moving closer to his unconscious older brother. His hands tremble as he lays cool fingers against Dean’s warm cheek. He feels a sob rise up in his throat, but he swallows it. He has to be strong.
“Dean,” he breathes gently against his brother’s face. He pauses again. The words shouldn’t be so hard to say, but he feels like he’s chewing on glass.
“Dean, I’m sorry,” he bursts suddenly. “I am so, so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t see how much this was hurting you, and I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. Can’t help you. I don’t know how, Dean. I was never able to manage my own visions, so I don’t know how the hell to even begin to help you.” Despite his need for control, fat tears start falling from Sam’s eyes.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Dean,” he gasps. “You’ve done so much for me, helping me at every turn in any way you could, and now that you need help… I’m useless.” He wipes, frustrated, at his eyes and sniffs hard. “I don’t know what to do, Dean. I just… fuck, I love you so much, but I don’t know how to help you.” Another massive sob rises within him, and this time, he lets it bubble over, consuming him.
Sam collapses against his brother’s sleeping body, weeping.
He lies like that, curled around Dean, breaking, until he cries himself to sleep.
*****
“Sammy?”
“Mhhrrrg?”
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Mwh -the… where’s Dean?”
“He’s out getting groceries. Said he wanted the chance to clear his head.”
“Oh… ok. Guess I should be getting up then.”
“Meh, it’s only two in the afternoon. No rush.”
“Christ, are you serious? Alright, I’m up. I’m up.”
“Good boy. Come on, I’ll put on a new pot of coffee.”
“Ugh. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Hey… Priestly?”
“Ya?
“Are you wearing a fucking kilt?”
*****
The men inside the old house look up from their assorted readings when a familiar rumble pulls into the dirt driveway. Nobody moves when the car door slams, but all three watch the door intensely. Heavy boots drudge up the walkway and up the rickety wooden steps, halting just on the other side of the door. After a moment, a belaboured voice calls, “Little help?”
Priestly smiles and opens the front door from the other side of the room. Dean instantly barges in, juggling three bags. Only one actually seems to be from the grocery store, Priestly notes, the other two being from the liquor store.
“Oh God,” Sam mutters, coming to the same conclusion Priestly had reached: tonight was going to be rough on the ol’ liver.
Priestly puts down his book and cracks his back before getting out of his chair. He’s about halfway to the kitchen to help Dean with the groceries when his twin glances up at him and does a double take.
His eyes zoom in on the kilt and his face twists into the sort of look you probably couldn’t pronounce in English. The two of them just kind of stand there, caught in Dean’s stare.
“Uh, MacLeod?” he says after a minute, starting to smirk, though his eyes are still incredulous. “Is this the part of the movie where you try to chop off my head? Because, you know, if I remember correctly, there can be only one.”
Sam barks out a laugh from the living room and Priestly shoots his twin a glare. “You’re an ass,” he says, moving again towards the groceries.
“It’s been said,” Dean grins, shoving both hands into a bag and pulling out two bottles of Jack Daniels. Priestly feels his stomach lurch and his liver shiver in fear. The other bag has two more bottles in it.
“Jesus, Dean,” Priestly says as his brother places the bottles on the counter with a clunk. “Are we all going to sit outside around a fire tonight and sing old cowboy songs?”
Priestly feels his brother roll his eyes mentally. “You’re just pissed that your tolerance level isn’t as high as the hemline on that skirt you’re wearing.”
The pink-haired boy is about to shoot a vicious retort when a little thought worms its way into the back of his mind. Instead of snarling, he smirks.
You like it, he purrs into Dean’s head.
Dean doesn’t flinch, keeping his eyes on the booze.
Maybe, he sends back.
*****
Twenty minutes later, Dean is pulling Priestly into the bathroom.
Priestly doesn’t even have time to react before he’s pushed into the counter, feeling it dig into his abdomen, just below his belly button. Dean growls something unintelligible into his ear and begins nipping at the back of his neck, sending shivers through Priestly’s body and making him hard in a second.
Dean’s hands are all over his body, crawling up beneath his shirt, dragging blunt nails over his chest, twisting the metal in his nipples ‘til Priestly hisses. There’s a wild look in Dean’s lust-black eyes, reflected in the mirror right in front of Priestly’s face. They watch each other in the mirror as Dean’s hands pull away from Priestly’s body, and disappear behind his back.
The sound of a zipper makes Priestly moan.
He watches in the reflection as Dean pulls his pants down far enough to get his dick free, and then he’s back to man-handling Priestly. Dean’s hands drag up Priestly’s legs, disappearing beneath the kilt, until they hit the waistline of boxer-briefs.
Dean is rough when he yanks them down, leaving the rest of the clothing untouched. He pulls them close together, wrapping his arms around Priestly, pulling him until their flat against one another and Priestly can feel Dean’s hard cock pressing against the crease of his ass.
It takes all of his willpower not to come right then.
Dean continues to watch him in the mirror, moving a hand to Priestly’s lips, growling when the twin takes his fingers into his mouth. Dean moans and grinds his dick harder into Priestly’s ass until he pulls his slick fingers from his brother’s mouth with a wet pop.
From there, the movements continue rough and quick. Dean’s hands disappear again behind Priestly’s back and up his kilt. Priestly makes a startled hissmoan when he feels two wet fingers press into him. He shudders when they begin to move inside him, in and out, scissoring.
Priestly almost cries out when the fingers are suddenly pulled from his body. He feels a flash of emptiness. Then there’s a ruffle of clothing behind him. Priestly’s stares in the mirror, but Dean’s actions are obscured by his own body.
Priestly hold his breath, which is hard when he was panting only seconds ago.
The click of a plastic lid makes all the held air rush out of his lungs, leaving him deflated and starving.
One of Dean’s hands is pushing at his shoulders, bending him forwards. Priestly’s breath hitches as his shirts rides up and the cool countertop finds bare skin. He can still see into the mirror. Dean’s eyes are almost pure black, pupils blown wide, and Priestly feels like he could come from that look alone.
Neither boy can hold back the deep, throaty moan that fills the cramped bathroom when Dean enters Priestly’s body.
Right on cue, the newest light above the mirror begins to flicker as Dean roars into a brutal pace, pounding into Priestly, one arm across his chest, the other bracing the both of them with a hand on the counter.
Priestly feels like he’s about to scream, but Dean senses it before it happens and slaps the hand previously playing with Priestly’s nipple, over his mouth.
Priestly groans like a whore into the hot flesh across his lips. His hands are flat against the wall on either side of the mirror, white knuckled from the pressure. He continues to stare at the identical reflections, watching as the black in Dean’s eyes seems to shimmer and bleed into bright green. Priestly’s own eyes shift colour when he’s hears his twin’s voice in the back of his head. He gasps around Dean’s hand as pure filth and lust flood his mind.
You look like such a slutty little bitch in that kilt, didja know that?
Priestly moans in response and Dean pounds harder. The things littered across the counter skitter and fall. The light bulb flickers faster and Priestly feels a pressure start to build just below his belly button.
It that why you just had to fuck me? he thinks, watching his brother’s eyes glow. His own are equally as bright. His powers simmer right beneath the surface, aching to be let loose.
The charm he wears around his neck is floating in mid air.
Dean growls and bites his neck, hard.
No, he sends back, grinning around teeth, I just like making the lights explode.
*****
It’s two in the morning and Bobby has long since gone to bed, leaving the Winchesters alone in the questionable company of Mr. Daniels. Each boy has a bottle of their very own, all of them with a dangers amount of liquid missing.
Sam’s eyelids are heavy, though he refuses to concede defeat. He’d be a piss poor excuse for a college boy if he didn’t know how to drink, after all. His neck has lost some of it’s will to cooperate, and his head kind of rolls every now and again, but he’s conscious, which he think is pretty damn impressive for the amount of whisky he’s ingested over the last couple hours. His limbs are heavy and loose, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get out of his chair.
Dean and Priestly, sprawled across the couch, and one another, seem stricken with the same afflictions. Dean is more or less still upright, though he seems to sink farther and farther into the armrest, slanting, as the time goes by. It reminds Sam of a glacier for some reason. His legs are splayed, one straight, the other bent, pointing in the opposite direction. From his right hand hangs the bottle of Jack Daniels, gripped by the neck and swinging perilously. The left hand is buried in Priestly’s pink hair, moving languidly.
Priestly is much less vertical. His head is very literally in Dean’s lap, and the rest of his body has kind of thrown itself over the remaining space on the couch. He’s on his side, sort of, with the inside leg bent, knee outwards, the other straight out, foot dangling over the other armrest. The entire pose seems like that of a naughty dog, sleeping on the furniture. It has also caused Priestly’s kilt to scrunch up, revealing bits of black boxer-briefs.
Very unladylike, if you ask Sam.
It occurs to him that he must have said the last thought out loud, because Dean is laughing so hard he’s gasping for air and Priestly has sent a pillow careening across the room, hitting Sam square in the face.
Pretty good aim for someone half in the bag.
Priestly then says something Sam doesn’t quite catch, and Dean leans down and says something with a grin. Priestly flips him off and Dean kisses him.
Sam takes another long pull of whiskey as his older brothers shift until Priestly is on his back, shoulders cradled in Dean’s arms. Dean’s bent forward and the two of them start making out. Sam feels his mouth burn from the drink when he speaks, warning the twins that Bobby would likely be unimpressed with their little show. He may fill Priestly with rock salt yet. Maybe drown Dean in holy water for good measure.
Neither boy pays him any heed. Their movements are slow, dulled by the alcohol, but when Dean’s hand begins to slide north, up Priestly’s leg, Sam realizes they may not stop at a make-out session.
When Dean’s hand disappears under the plaid material, Sam feels a furious blush bloom in his cheeks. He clears his throat, loudly, but the twins are in their own world. Sam tries to say something, anything, to make them stop. Bobby could wander out of his room at any second and catch them, not to mention the fact that they are practically fornicating right in front of him.
But for some reason, maybe the whiskey, Sam can’t produce any noise other than something that sounds disturbingly like a whimper. His body seems to have a mind of its own, to Sam’s horror. He slides lower in the chair rather than getting up and running away. He takes another long drag of Jack, trying to dull himself to what is happening on the couch in front of him.
Dean’s hand is long gone, but movement beneath the kilt betrays its actions. Priestly’s eyes are closed as he kisses Dean deep, letting out a low moan that makes Sam sweat. He drinks some more, still unable to get up, or even look away as Dean pulls at Priestly’s dick, jacking him off slowly beneath the veil of fabric.
Sam’s heart is pounding in his ears and his dick. His head is somewhere else. He can’t think straight; can’t process what’s going on around him. Maybe that’s why he’s suddenly harder than he’s ever been in his whole life.
Dean’s hand is moving faster now, still oblivious to everything else in the world. Priestly’s hips are rolling into his twin’s touch. He’s panting into the kiss and from the crease in his brow, the pink staining his cheeks, and the green light leaking from beneath his eyelids, Sam can tell he’s close.
The lamp closest to Sam begins to flicker, and he sees Dean smile into Priestly’s mouth. The light seems to wake something in Sam, reigniting his higher brain functions, and suddenly he’s running. Priestly’s moans follow him down the hall until he bursts into the bedroom and shuts the door.
Sam’s stomach lurches, but he pushes the feeling down. His brain feels like it’s pushing against the inside of his skull. He’s breathing hard and his limbs feel like they way a hundred pounds. Each.
Suddenly the world decides to start spinning without him. Sam stumbles, just a little, and then the ground rushes up to him. Somehow, he collapses on the bed instead of the floor. It’s cool against his cheek and it makes passing out that much easier. His last thought before the murky black envelopes him is a prayer that he won’t remember a thing tomorrow.
*****
The thing in the tunnel snarls when the cool breeze caresses its charred flesh.
It’s fresher, cleaner than before. It brings the scents of greenery and water.
It’s getting closer.
*****
To be continued…
’Verse: Lost and Found
Author: LadyMacbeth
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG13 (for some cussin’ and some kissin’)
Word Count: 2587
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” and all its characters belong to the genius that is Eric Kripke. I make no profit.
Summary: Missouri reveals a secret to the boys that send them on a journey to Santa Cruz where they find a brother they never knew and an even darker revelation that none of them saw coming.
The story so far:
1. Santa Cruz
2. The Road to Missouri
3. Revelations
4. Look Back, Leap Forward
5. Second Sight
6. Fury and Fitchburg
7. Conjoined
8. Distant Voices
9. The Warning
10. Wrought Asunder
11. Family Ties
12. Black Dog
13. Splitting Down the Seems
And now:
*****
“So what now?” Bobby sighs after a long pull from his beer. He and Priestly are seated at the kitchen table, staring at its surface bleakly, both still reeling.
“I don’t know,” Priestly whispers, drink growing warm in his hand. “Sam’s finally gotten him to get some sleep, but when he wakes up…” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to help him. I’m sure Missouri would have some idea, but we haven’t been able to get a hold of her for almost two weeks.”
Bobby’s forehead crinkles in thought. He takes another slow drink of beer before saying, “Sounds to me like we need to find ourselves another psychic.”
*****
“Dean?” Sam whispers into his brother’s ear. “Dean, I know you probably can’t hear me right now, but there’s something I have to say.”
He shifts on the bed, moving closer to his unconscious older brother. His hands tremble as he lays cool fingers against Dean’s warm cheek. He feels a sob rise up in his throat, but he swallows it. He has to be strong.
“Dean,” he breathes gently against his brother’s face. He pauses again. The words shouldn’t be so hard to say, but he feels like he’s chewing on glass.
“Dean, I’m sorry,” he bursts suddenly. “I am so, so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t see how much this was hurting you, and I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. Can’t help you. I don’t know how, Dean. I was never able to manage my own visions, so I don’t know how the hell to even begin to help you.” Despite his need for control, fat tears start falling from Sam’s eyes.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Dean,” he gasps. “You’ve done so much for me, helping me at every turn in any way you could, and now that you need help… I’m useless.” He wipes, frustrated, at his eyes and sniffs hard. “I don’t know what to do, Dean. I just… fuck, I love you so much, but I don’t know how to help you.” Another massive sob rises within him, and this time, he lets it bubble over, consuming him.
Sam collapses against his brother’s sleeping body, weeping.
He lies like that, curled around Dean, breaking, until he cries himself to sleep.
*****
“Sammy?”
“Mhhrrrg?”
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Mwh -the… where’s Dean?”
“He’s out getting groceries. Said he wanted the chance to clear his head.”
“Oh… ok. Guess I should be getting up then.”
“Meh, it’s only two in the afternoon. No rush.”
“Christ, are you serious? Alright, I’m up. I’m up.”
“Good boy. Come on, I’ll put on a new pot of coffee.”
“Ugh. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Hey… Priestly?”
“Ya?
“Are you wearing a fucking kilt?”
*****
The men inside the old house look up from their assorted readings when a familiar rumble pulls into the dirt driveway. Nobody moves when the car door slams, but all three watch the door intensely. Heavy boots drudge up the walkway and up the rickety wooden steps, halting just on the other side of the door. After a moment, a belaboured voice calls, “Little help?”
Priestly smiles and opens the front door from the other side of the room. Dean instantly barges in, juggling three bags. Only one actually seems to be from the grocery store, Priestly notes, the other two being from the liquor store.
“Oh God,” Sam mutters, coming to the same conclusion Priestly had reached: tonight was going to be rough on the ol’ liver.
Priestly puts down his book and cracks his back before getting out of his chair. He’s about halfway to the kitchen to help Dean with the groceries when his twin glances up at him and does a double take.
His eyes zoom in on the kilt and his face twists into the sort of look you probably couldn’t pronounce in English. The two of them just kind of stand there, caught in Dean’s stare.
“Uh, MacLeod?” he says after a minute, starting to smirk, though his eyes are still incredulous. “Is this the part of the movie where you try to chop off my head? Because, you know, if I remember correctly, there can be only one.”
Sam barks out a laugh from the living room and Priestly shoots his twin a glare. “You’re an ass,” he says, moving again towards the groceries.
“It’s been said,” Dean grins, shoving both hands into a bag and pulling out two bottles of Jack Daniels. Priestly feels his stomach lurch and his liver shiver in fear. The other bag has two more bottles in it.
“Jesus, Dean,” Priestly says as his brother places the bottles on the counter with a clunk. “Are we all going to sit outside around a fire tonight and sing old cowboy songs?”
Priestly feels his brother roll his eyes mentally. “You’re just pissed that your tolerance level isn’t as high as the hemline on that skirt you’re wearing.”
The pink-haired boy is about to shoot a vicious retort when a little thought worms its way into the back of his mind. Instead of snarling, he smirks.
You like it, he purrs into Dean’s head.
Dean doesn’t flinch, keeping his eyes on the booze.
Maybe, he sends back.
*****
Twenty minutes later, Dean is pulling Priestly into the bathroom.
Priestly doesn’t even have time to react before he’s pushed into the counter, feeling it dig into his abdomen, just below his belly button. Dean growls something unintelligible into his ear and begins nipping at the back of his neck, sending shivers through Priestly’s body and making him hard in a second.
Dean’s hands are all over his body, crawling up beneath his shirt, dragging blunt nails over his chest, twisting the metal in his nipples ‘til Priestly hisses. There’s a wild look in Dean’s lust-black eyes, reflected in the mirror right in front of Priestly’s face. They watch each other in the mirror as Dean’s hands pull away from Priestly’s body, and disappear behind his back.
The sound of a zipper makes Priestly moan.
He watches in the reflection as Dean pulls his pants down far enough to get his dick free, and then he’s back to man-handling Priestly. Dean’s hands drag up Priestly’s legs, disappearing beneath the kilt, until they hit the waistline of boxer-briefs.
Dean is rough when he yanks them down, leaving the rest of the clothing untouched. He pulls them close together, wrapping his arms around Priestly, pulling him until their flat against one another and Priestly can feel Dean’s hard cock pressing against the crease of his ass.
It takes all of his willpower not to come right then.
Dean continues to watch him in the mirror, moving a hand to Priestly’s lips, growling when the twin takes his fingers into his mouth. Dean moans and grinds his dick harder into Priestly’s ass until he pulls his slick fingers from his brother’s mouth with a wet pop.
From there, the movements continue rough and quick. Dean’s hands disappear again behind Priestly’s back and up his kilt. Priestly makes a startled hissmoan when he feels two wet fingers press into him. He shudders when they begin to move inside him, in and out, scissoring.
Priestly almost cries out when the fingers are suddenly pulled from his body. He feels a flash of emptiness. Then there’s a ruffle of clothing behind him. Priestly’s stares in the mirror, but Dean’s actions are obscured by his own body.
Priestly hold his breath, which is hard when he was panting only seconds ago.
The click of a plastic lid makes all the held air rush out of his lungs, leaving him deflated and starving.
One of Dean’s hands is pushing at his shoulders, bending him forwards. Priestly’s breath hitches as his shirts rides up and the cool countertop finds bare skin. He can still see into the mirror. Dean’s eyes are almost pure black, pupils blown wide, and Priestly feels like he could come from that look alone.
Neither boy can hold back the deep, throaty moan that fills the cramped bathroom when Dean enters Priestly’s body.
Right on cue, the newest light above the mirror begins to flicker as Dean roars into a brutal pace, pounding into Priestly, one arm across his chest, the other bracing the both of them with a hand on the counter.
Priestly feels like he’s about to scream, but Dean senses it before it happens and slaps the hand previously playing with Priestly’s nipple, over his mouth.
Priestly groans like a whore into the hot flesh across his lips. His hands are flat against the wall on either side of the mirror, white knuckled from the pressure. He continues to stare at the identical reflections, watching as the black in Dean’s eyes seems to shimmer and bleed into bright green. Priestly’s own eyes shift colour when he’s hears his twin’s voice in the back of his head. He gasps around Dean’s hand as pure filth and lust flood his mind.
You look like such a slutty little bitch in that kilt, didja know that?
Priestly moans in response and Dean pounds harder. The things littered across the counter skitter and fall. The light bulb flickers faster and Priestly feels a pressure start to build just below his belly button.
It that why you just had to fuck me? he thinks, watching his brother’s eyes glow. His own are equally as bright. His powers simmer right beneath the surface, aching to be let loose.
The charm he wears around his neck is floating in mid air.
Dean growls and bites his neck, hard.
No, he sends back, grinning around teeth, I just like making the lights explode.
*****
It’s two in the morning and Bobby has long since gone to bed, leaving the Winchesters alone in the questionable company of Mr. Daniels. Each boy has a bottle of their very own, all of them with a dangers amount of liquid missing.
Sam’s eyelids are heavy, though he refuses to concede defeat. He’d be a piss poor excuse for a college boy if he didn’t know how to drink, after all. His neck has lost some of it’s will to cooperate, and his head kind of rolls every now and again, but he’s conscious, which he think is pretty damn impressive for the amount of whisky he’s ingested over the last couple hours. His limbs are heavy and loose, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get out of his chair.
Dean and Priestly, sprawled across the couch, and one another, seem stricken with the same afflictions. Dean is more or less still upright, though he seems to sink farther and farther into the armrest, slanting, as the time goes by. It reminds Sam of a glacier for some reason. His legs are splayed, one straight, the other bent, pointing in the opposite direction. From his right hand hangs the bottle of Jack Daniels, gripped by the neck and swinging perilously. The left hand is buried in Priestly’s pink hair, moving languidly.
Priestly is much less vertical. His head is very literally in Dean’s lap, and the rest of his body has kind of thrown itself over the remaining space on the couch. He’s on his side, sort of, with the inside leg bent, knee outwards, the other straight out, foot dangling over the other armrest. The entire pose seems like that of a naughty dog, sleeping on the furniture. It has also caused Priestly’s kilt to scrunch up, revealing bits of black boxer-briefs.
Very unladylike, if you ask Sam.
It occurs to him that he must have said the last thought out loud, because Dean is laughing so hard he’s gasping for air and Priestly has sent a pillow careening across the room, hitting Sam square in the face.
Pretty good aim for someone half in the bag.
Priestly then says something Sam doesn’t quite catch, and Dean leans down and says something with a grin. Priestly flips him off and Dean kisses him.
Sam takes another long pull of whiskey as his older brothers shift until Priestly is on his back, shoulders cradled in Dean’s arms. Dean’s bent forward and the two of them start making out. Sam feels his mouth burn from the drink when he speaks, warning the twins that Bobby would likely be unimpressed with their little show. He may fill Priestly with rock salt yet. Maybe drown Dean in holy water for good measure.
Neither boy pays him any heed. Their movements are slow, dulled by the alcohol, but when Dean’s hand begins to slide north, up Priestly’s leg, Sam realizes they may not stop at a make-out session.
When Dean’s hand disappears under the plaid material, Sam feels a furious blush bloom in his cheeks. He clears his throat, loudly, but the twins are in their own world. Sam tries to say something, anything, to make them stop. Bobby could wander out of his room at any second and catch them, not to mention the fact that they are practically fornicating right in front of him.
But for some reason, maybe the whiskey, Sam can’t produce any noise other than something that sounds disturbingly like a whimper. His body seems to have a mind of its own, to Sam’s horror. He slides lower in the chair rather than getting up and running away. He takes another long drag of Jack, trying to dull himself to what is happening on the couch in front of him.
Dean’s hand is long gone, but movement beneath the kilt betrays its actions. Priestly’s eyes are closed as he kisses Dean deep, letting out a low moan that makes Sam sweat. He drinks some more, still unable to get up, or even look away as Dean pulls at Priestly’s dick, jacking him off slowly beneath the veil of fabric.
Sam’s heart is pounding in his ears and his dick. His head is somewhere else. He can’t think straight; can’t process what’s going on around him. Maybe that’s why he’s suddenly harder than he’s ever been in his whole life.
Dean’s hand is moving faster now, still oblivious to everything else in the world. Priestly’s hips are rolling into his twin’s touch. He’s panting into the kiss and from the crease in his brow, the pink staining his cheeks, and the green light leaking from beneath his eyelids, Sam can tell he’s close.
The lamp closest to Sam begins to flicker, and he sees Dean smile into Priestly’s mouth. The light seems to wake something in Sam, reigniting his higher brain functions, and suddenly he’s running. Priestly’s moans follow him down the hall until he bursts into the bedroom and shuts the door.
Sam’s stomach lurches, but he pushes the feeling down. His brain feels like it’s pushing against the inside of his skull. He’s breathing hard and his limbs feel like they way a hundred pounds. Each.
Suddenly the world decides to start spinning without him. Sam stumbles, just a little, and then the ground rushes up to him. Somehow, he collapses on the bed instead of the floor. It’s cool against his cheek and it makes passing out that much easier. His last thought before the murky black envelopes him is a prayer that he won’t remember a thing tomorrow.
*****
The thing in the tunnel snarls when the cool breeze caresses its charred flesh.
It’s fresher, cleaner than before. It brings the scents of greenery and water.
It’s getting closer.
*****
To be continued…