Instinct (7/8)
Sam was quiet that night.
He stayed tucked close to Dean’s side, wandering aimlessly after him as the hunter shuffled around the house, and Dean was reminded more than a little of the dog that had stuck close to his heels for weeks. At first, the hunter left him to it, figured that maybe the kid would bring up whatever was bothering him whenever he was ready, but as the day wore on more and more he began to worry that it would never happen.
It wasn’t until almost ten o’clock that night, the two of them tucked up on the sofa watching a movie with a blanket draped around them, that the shifter finally began to talk.
“Are you sure that you made the right decision?” He asked softly, eyes locked on the blanket, watching his own fingers as they tangled themselves in the material.
Dean raised an eyebrow, tugging the young man closer. “What do you mean?”
“About your dad,” Sam explained softly, the faintest tinge of crimson beginning to stain his cheeks. “And about me. I mean, he’s your family… you didn’t have to make him leave just so I could stay. I mean, you barely even know me. What happens if one day you wake up and regret it? He might not take you back after this.”
The hunter felt something akin to pity stir somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach, as he realized - not for the first time - just how little Sam thought of himself. Sam had more or less admitted, all those days ago, that his biggest fear since Dean had found him had been the moment that the hunter either decided to leave him or kill him.
In the time since then, Dean liked to think that he’d made the shifter understand that he would never even consider hurting him, much less killing him. It was clear, however, that the young man still lived in fear of being left behind. After losing everything that he’d ever known in such quick succession, it was no wonder that the kid was convinced that it was at least partially his fault.
“Sam,” Dean told the shifter softly, nudging his chin up and forcing the younger man to meet his eyes. “I will never regret choosing you. I need you to understand that. I…I know that we haven’t really known each other long, all things considered, but the truth is that I couldn’t imagine my life without you anymore. From the moment that I first found you, you became such a huge part of my life - even as a dog, you were my best friend. Now… well, now you’re even more than that.”
He paused, searching those beautiful hazel eyes for a long moment, before he sucked in a deep breath and continued. “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before - not about anybody. It’s new, and in some ways it’s kind of scary, but I’m in this for the long haul. As long as you want me in your life, I’ll be there, and if that means that my dad and I aren’t on the best of terms, well, that’s something that the two of us will eventually sort out. I’ll do anything you want. You want to give up hunting? I’ll quit. You want to find a house and settle down? I’ll do it. You just have to say the word, Sam.”
Tears were brewing in the shifter’s eyes, and just when Dean was beginning to panic and think that he might have misread the entire situation, the younger man’s face slowly broke into a smile.
“I… I’m in this for the long haul, too.”
Dean could feel himself grinning so wide that his face almost felt like it was breaking in two, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care that he probably looked ridiculous. Slowly, giving Sam enough time to pull away if he wanted to, he cupped the shifter’s face and leant in to press their lips together.
It was a chaste kiss, at first; just as sweet as the one that they’d shared in the church, and Dean felt contentment curl in the pit of his stomach, a strange warmth that was unlike anything he’d felt before. He brushed his hands through Sam’s hair, and slowly began to pull away.
He barely made it a few inches before one of Sam’s hands reached his face and the young man crushed their lips back together again. Dean felt his body respond almost instantly, jeans feeling just that little bit tighter as the younger man opened his mouth to let him in. It was hot, the perfect mix of tongues and teeth, and there was a sense of urgency there that hadn’t been there before.
Slowly, trying not to freak the kid out, Dean shifted his position, gently pressing the younger man back onto the cushions. Sam went willingly, whimpering a little into the kiss as Dean settled his weight over the younger man’s body and their hips pressed together.
“Jesus,” Dean panted, breaking the kiss and turning his head, nipping his way along the shifter’s jawline and towards his neck. He teased the skin there, sucking softly and occasionally nibbling until it was red and sensitive, and underneath him Sam grew gradually more restless.
“Dean,” He groaned, hand tangling in the older man’s hair and gently tugging his hair back. Startled, the hunter went willingly, eyes wide as he began to wonder whether he’d taken things to far - whether he’d somehow managed to hurt the shifter, or freak him out. Instead, he saw that Sam’s eyes were blown with lust, and the young man hesitantly began to speak. “Maybe… we could go upstairs? To bed?”
For a moment, Dean couldn’t deny the hot spike of disappointment at the idea that Sam was ending it, and then the shifter's hand slowly slipped from his face to his collarbone, lightly tracing patterns there, and the hunter realized what the young man was really asking.
He nodded slightly, carefully manoeuvring himself off the sofa and reaching out a hand to help the younger man do the same. The two of them made their way up the stairs slowly, fingers still tangled together, and it wasn’t until they were inside the room with the door firmly shut behind them that Dean finally hesitated.
Sam had perched himself on the edge of the bed, trembling fingers clasped in his lap as he waited for Dean to make the first move.
“Sam,” The hunter said softly, crossing the room and sinking to his knees in front of the younger man, carefully cupping his face. “Are you sure that this is what you want? I don’t mind if you want to take it slowly. I don’t want you to think that you have to do this, or anything.”
Sam smiled softly, reaching forward and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, tangling their hands together. “I know you’d let me take it slow, but I want this. I promise.”
Dean nodded slowly, allowing the younger man to tug him onto the bed, lying next to him and casting his eyes towards the nightstand. He’d never brought a girl back to Jim’s - because there were some lines that just could not be crossed - but he’d always kept a bottle of lube tucked into the back of the nightstand, for when he wanted a little extra slick for jerking off, and his spare condoms in case he ever ran out.
He didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful for their presence than the moment that Sam tugged him into another kiss, hard and fast and dirtier than any kid as innocent looking as he was had any right to kiss. Dean’s body reacted instinctively, arms coming up to bracket either side of the kid’s head as he rolled over him, grinding his hips down slightly.
Sam made a delicious mewling noise and Dean thought that it might just be the best noise that he’d ever heard. One of his hands shifted, traced lightly along the side of the younger man’s jaw before slipping down to the hem of his t-shirt, slowly slipping inside. His fingers traced along warm, smooth skin - skipped lightly over the all-too familiar scar left behind by a silver knife - and moved gradually upwards, taking the shirt with it.
Sam’s back arched, hips rolling up in an unsteady rhythm in an effort to try and get closer to the hunter. His own hands were working Dean’s shirt off at a much more hurried pace, fingers clenching and unclenching in the material as he tugged it over the older man’s head. Dean grinned as their mouths met again, hot skin pressing against hot skin.
He could feel the muscles in Sam’s stomach contracting and expanding; it was a strange sensation to have the hard, flat planes of his chest and the muscled dip of his stomach spread out beneath him in place of the soft skin and smooth curves of a girl. Dean had experimented with boys before, but only ever when he was drunk - doing it now, sober and hyper-aware of every movement, was perhaps the hottest thing that he’d ever experienced.
His head dipped down to the long line of Sam’s neck, bare and exposed and looking as if it was begging to be marked, and he nudged the collar aside with his nose as he marked the skin there. The shifter’s hands were tugging ineffectively at his jeans, laughter breaking free from his throat as the button refused to come free. The part of Dean that had been worried that they were going too fast relaxed at the sound, and he pressed a sweet kiss to the young man’s lips before he pulled back and easily tugged his own jeans off.
He hesitated at the button of Sam’s, eyes flitting up to search for approval, and Sam nodded his head with a shy grin. Dean didn’t need to be told twice, gently but quickly slipping the item of clothing down the younger man’s legs and throwing them carelessly aside.
The front of Sam’s boxers were tented just as obviously as his own, damp with precome, and Dean grinned wickedly as he lined their hips up and pressed down, letting his weight fall back against the younger man. The sensation that surged through him when their hips met was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and his hips jerked in a rough thrust without his permission.
Sam made that soft mewling noise again, twisting his head to press it into the pillow as his hips jerked up; it occurred to Dean that he was trying to be quiet, that Jim and Bobby were sleeping in their rooms just a few doors down. He was more surprised by the revelation that he didn’t care.
“Come on, Dean,” The kid groaned, twisting his hips in a sinuous moment that had Dean biting his lip in an effort to stop himself coming there and then. “Please.”
It would have taken a better man than Dean Winchester to resist the sight of such a beautiful young man spread out and begging, and he twisted his body to fumble for the lube and condoms even as Sam worked to rid the both of them from their boxers.
The material tangled around their legs for a moment, and Dean had a brief moment of panic when he nearly overbalanced and toppled over the edge of the bed. Laughing, Sam managed to grab ahold of him and keep him steady, even as a few well-timed kicks of his legs finally rid them of the last of their clothes.
Dean’s breath caught in his throat. There was no denying that Sam was gorgeous - hell, Dean had known that since the moment that he’d first lain eyes on the younger man, bleeding and a hair’s breath away from dying but still disarmingly beautiful - but now it seemed more obvious than ever.
“Please,” He whispered, catching Dean’s wrist and tugging lightly. “I need you. Come on.”
Dean nodded slowly, uncharacteristically nervous as he fumbled the lid on the lube and finally popped it open; he squeezed it too hard, coating his hand thicker than he’d intended to, and just barely resisted the urge to blush like a schoolgirl as he wiped some of it on his thigh.
It was beyond ridiculous that he was this nervous. He’d had sex before… hell, he’d even had sex with other guys before. This was nothing new. Except for the fact that sex previous to this had always come in the form of nameless faces and one night stands; this was different because it meant something, because Sam wouldn’t be leaving first thing in the morning with a quick thanks and a peck on the lips.
He dipped his head to kiss the shifter sweetly as his fingers brushed gradually lower and lower, until one of them was slowly and steadily pressing inside. Sam gasped a little, but the hard line of him pressed against the hunter’s hip was more than enough proof that he wanted it, hips jerking a little. Dean wasn’t sure if it was his body trying to buck him off or pull him deeper, and he slowed his movements a little, shifting his fingers until he found that place inside that had Sam’s head tipping back with a quiet cry.
He shifted forwards, keeping up his assault on the sensitive spot as he brought their mouths together in another kiss. This one was softer than the ones before it, sweet and heady where the others had been frantic; Dean could feel Sam’s heartbeat hammering against his chest, could feel the moment that he slipped another finger inside and it picked up its pace, until he thought it might hammer straight out of the younger man’s chest.
Sam bucked his hips again, and this time Dean knew that he was trying to get closer - recognized the writhe of his hips and the panting breaths against his lips. A third finger slipped in alongside the first two with only the barest hint of resistance, and Sam let loose another cry - he had just enough self-control that it was quiet, and Dean felt his own hips jerk against the younger man’s thigh at the sight of him.
“I’m ready,” Sam panted, tugging on Dean’s shoulder. Dean pressed in one last time, worked his fingers relentlessly against his prostate until his back was arched and his cock was flushed. He reached for the condom then, fumbled it when it slipped through lube-smeared fingers, and narrowly avoided dropping it on the floor. Sam watched him silently for a few seconds, and then hesitantly reached out and caught Dean’s wrist. “I don’t… We don’t have to use one. If you’re clean, I guess. I…”
Dean blinked. “I am. You want me to leave it off?”
“Please,” Sam nodded, and incredibly - impossibly - he was blushing. Dean grinned, tossing the small packet aside and shifting his weight to pull back a little, drizzling some lube onto himself and hesitating for a brief second. Sam’s hips bucked in invitation, and it was all of the incentive that Dean needed to line himself up and push. It was tight, and Sam hissed out a staggered breath as the older man pressed forwards. He went slowly, easing his way into the shifter’s body.
By the time that he was fully seated, both of them were panting and gasping. Sam was fluttering around him, muscles trying to adjust to the feeling of being spread so open.
“Okay,” Sam nodded after a few seconds, shifting his hips in a movement that threatened to have Dean’s eyes rolling up into his head. “You can move.”
Dean didn’t need telling twice. He pulled out slowly, giving the younger man a chance to adjust to the sensation before he pressed back in again, setting up a slow rhythm that gradually picked up its pace. Sam was making small, needy noises in the back of his throat, gasping against the skin of Dean’s neck as his nails dragged along the hunter’s back, and Dean’s hips rolled him impossibly deeper at the sensation.
He brushed against Sam’s prostate once, twice, and that was enough to have the kid’s back arching as he came completely untouched; Dean kept up his own pace, and it was the sensation of muscles contracting around him to the point of pain that had his own eyes rolling back into his head. He fucked them both through it, until he was over-sensitive and wrung out, and only then did he slip out.
Sam’s chest was heaving, hazel eyes radiating bone-deep contentment, and Dean couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he flopped down next to the younger man, curling him into his arms. Sam went willingly, slotting their bodies together like it’s what they were built to do, his head coming over to rest on Dean’s chest.
He knew that they should get up and get clean - or that he should at least track down the wayward condom packet and tuck back into the relative privacy of his bedside drawer. Instead, he lay still and silent and watched the way that Sam’s eyes fluttered shut and his hand curled slightly over Dean’s heart, and he felt contentment stir thick and heavy in the pit of his stomach.
He was still smiling when his own eyes began to shutter, and sleep finally claimed him.
For the first time that he could remember, he was well and truly happy.
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