A Place to Rest my Spirit 3/5
Title: A Place to Rest My Spirit
Author: Miss ‘Drea
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~21,000
Beta: dH, blackcathollow ,jassy3399
Pairing: Sam/Dean, OMC/OFC
Summary: Sam and Dean find an amulet that lets the restless souls of their past selves live for six months, it’s a way to mend broken bridges and let soul-mates who may have lost their chance at happiness find some again. Marcus and James live for six months, but it’s Sam and Dean who must face the consequences of their actions.
Disclaimer: Gamble, Kripke and Singer own everything. Fredrick and Risika are mine. 100% literally.
| 3 |
many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade
many a soldier shed his life blood on my blade
Month 1
“Marcus?” James asks, blinking away the fog of a six hundred year long sleep, focusing on a face not quite his lover’s.
It breaks out into a grin that’s all Marcus. “James?” he asks, and the voice is lower, deeper pitched but everything about the man is Marcus.
“Of course it’s me,” James says crossly. “Who else would it be?” He gives Marcus a smile and a wink.
“Thank the Lord,” Marcus breathes, tugging James closer. “I thought you’d never return, Jem.”
James grins wider, running one hand through Marcus’ shorn hair. “I’m here now.”
“Aye,” Marcus agrees, just before drawing back and striking James full on in the face, splitting his lip. “You complete and utter bastard_” he shouts, pulling away. “You couldn’t even have the decency to grant me one last bloody visit in the jail before they killed me? Do you have any idea what that felt like?”
Rubbing his jaw and wiping away the blood, James winces. “I know,” he answers roughly. “My sister let me out of the root cellar and informed me that...” his voice breaks “that you’d been executed.”
Marcus pulls back even further, crossing his arms over his chest. “You didn’t know?”
“I knew that you had been imprisoned, same as I,” James admits. “But that you were scheduled to be hanged without trial? No. Lord, no, Marc. I didn’t know.”
Marcus’ face softens without his permission. “Jem,” he murmurs. “My God, how I have missed you.”
This time when Marcus moves in, it’s for a kiss. This kiss is gentle, as they learn these new bodies. Marcus tastes different as Dean and James is suddenly the taller one. Marcus’ lips move along James’ and he tilts his head to deepen it.
It’s like a switch has been flipped and desire turns on just as suddenly as the kiss began. James’ teeth bite into Marcus’ full lower lip, and Marcus’ moan is all startled pleasure.
There are less clothes for them to deal with than ever before and it takes no effort at all to skim a hand up Marcus’ side under the t-shirt.
“Fuck,” Marcus swears. “Inside, Jem. Now.”
They start to stumble up the steps together before James can feel - or hear - Samuel’s incessant reminder that their food has been left in the monstrosity and it will spoil if they leave it too long.
“Wait,” he pants out reluctantly. “The vittles, they’ll spoil.”
“Let them,” Marcus protests. “Fuck now, food later.”
James chuckles, pressing a kiss to the corner of Marcus’ lips and somewhere in the back of his head Dean grimaces. This is his brother he’s attacking with his mouth. It’s weird and it’s fucking uncomfortable.
“Come, Marc. The sooner our supplies are put away, the sooner you can have your wicked way with me.”
With a truly theatrical groan, Marcus pulls away and goes purposefully over to the car. “How do we open this forsaken appliance?” James laughs again, shaking his head.
“You open the fucking door,” Dean grouses, “and then you pop the trunk. It’s fucking muscle memory.”
“Shut up,” Marcus hisses at him, adjusting himself.
With a put upon sigh, James opens the door to pull the latch on the trunk. Marcus immediately begins gathering bags, complaining the whole while both inside and out.
Once everything is inside the cabin and mostly put away, the nagging feeling of Samuel has faded entirely and James turns just in time to catch Marcus’ lips with his. “Bloody Hell, Jem,” he begs, tugging Dean’s shirt over his head. “Don’t make me wait a second longer.”
Everything narrows down to the golden tanned expanse of skin displayed in front of him and James wets his lips. “God-damn,” he swears softly. “It has been far too long.” He drops to his knees, and places his hands on the buttons holding Marcus’ pants closed. “May I, Marc?” he pleads softly.
“Fuck, aye.” Marcus groans, scrabbling at the jeans to help James pull them off. “If they could see you, Jem. Son of the king on his knees a’fore a highwayman and a knave.”
James lays a tender kiss on the inside of Marcus’ knee. “No one here but you.”
“Us and them,” Marcus agrees breathlessly. “Now, Lord, Jem. Suck me.”
Sam recoils instantly even as his body leans forward to lick a stripe up Marcus’ - Dean’s - cock. There’s been a lot in his life that can be classified as weird and fucked up, but this, this definitely takes the cake. It doesn’t seem to matter that Sam’s never sucked a dick in his life, James clearly has and does so with abandon.
He wishes for a brief moment that he could talk psychically to Dean through the connection they shared, but telepathy definitely didn’t factor into it. And Dean is probably freaking out enough as it is.
Marcus doesn’t last long, it’s been too many years and this new body he’s trapped in craves touch badly enough that the minute Jem closes his lips around his cock, he’s already close to coming. “Christ, Jem,” he pants, “your mouth...” He arches his hips and clenches his fingers into the arms of the chair.
It’s difficult to keep a level head, while watching your little brother give you head, Dean thinks a little hysterically. Not only that but James is good at it and Sam’s mouth seems made for it. Dean tries to bury himself under layers of denial, a metaphorical la-la-la to the whole situation, but he’s stuck in the front seat of the drive-in movie, and the porn is good enough that even Dean has to wish he had a cock to jerk off with.
When Marcus looks down at James and sees the glimmer of his smile in his familiar blue eyes, Marcus loses it.
With a short, wild cry, he comes down James’ throat and slumps in his chair, breathing heavily. James swallows, wiping the back of one hand over his swollen lips. “You taste the same,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of Marcus thigh. “Fuck, but you even smell the same.”
“Damn it, Jem,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “I think you’ve gone and killed me.”
James rises fluidly to his feet, a rider’s grace and straddles Marcus with a wicked grin. “I should hope not,” he purrs. “Otherwise I should be very put out.”
Marcus kisses him instead of replying. They share the taste of Dean between them and Marcus can feel himself hardening again. “Jem, Christ.”
He arches his hips up and brushes his bare length against Jem’s still clothed erection. “You are wearing far too much, my Jem.”
James smiles against his lips. “Let go of my hips and perhaps I’ll remove it all.” Marcus lets go reflexively and all but shoves James off his lap. James, for his part, laughs. “Impatient are we?” he asks with a cocksure grin.
Sam winces and covers his ears because this is just too much. He can feel his body throbbing with arousal and it’s been long enough since he last got laid that he’s almost eager for what’s coming next.
Marcus narrows his eyes at James and crosses his arms over his bare chest. “I could take care of this,” he gestures obscenely, “myself, Jem.” He had meant it to sound threatening, but when James stops stripping off his clothes to sit, legs crossed on the floor, he can’t help but blink. “Jem?”
Dean’s not an exhibitionist by nature, but it’s not as though he hasn’t jerked off for his partners before. But the thought of jerking off in front of Sam... that’s something different entirely.
“Please,” James says, gesturing expansively. “By all means.”
A burning flush slides down his face to pool in his chest. “You wish a show, my prince?”
The expression on James’ face softens into a tender look. “What I wish is to enjoy the next six months,” he says, grinning a little. “If that requires your putting on a show, then so be it.”
Marcus’ blush intensifies one hundred fold but he grasps himself loosely. “Come, my prince,” he murmurs. “This encounter is feeling very one sided. At least finish disrobing.”
It takes James no time at all to strip off Sam’s jeans. “I want you to fuck me,” James says seriously as he sits at Marcus’ feet again.
Sam’s alarm spikes so hard that even James feels it. He hasn’t been fucked since... Jess. She used to love putting on this ridiculous purple and pink swirled strap on- and this isn’t helping. Still, it’s been... six years since the last time he’d done that and he’s seen what Dean’s packing. No, thank you.
He grips himself tighter at the words but smiles ruefully. “It has been at least six hundred years since you and I have touched, and your borrowed body has never been breached, so we’ll take it slow. We have all the time in the world.”
“Excuse me,” Sam says. “Could we forgo this whole idea, do you think?”
He can feel James grin. “Sorry, Samuel. But now it’s my turn.”
Distracted, James’ expression grows sorrowful. “Six months?” He scoffs. “Six months is nothing.”
“No,” Marcus admonishes, repeating Risika’s words from what seems like a lifetime ago. “Six months is everything.” He slides off the chair to press himself chest to chest with James. “I can’t fuck you yet, Jem. But there are other things. Lay back.”
James drops back onto his elbows, to watch what Marcus is going to do next. Marcus leans forward and presses their lips together, it’s a distraction and it works. They slide together wetly, and sparks of pleasure settle in Marcus’ belly. “Fuck, but I love kissing you,” he whispers, feeling James’ answering smile.
They jerk each other off, just like the first time they’d ever been together more than six hundred years ago, and fall asleep curled naked around each other‘s bodies by the fire.
James turns around as the room around them builds itself a set of walls and he can hear the annoyed noises of Sam just behind him. “Hello Samuel,” he says with a small smile. “I do hope you aren’t too cross with me.”
“I’m not sure ‘cross’ is the right word, no,” Sam says evenly. “Considering you’re taking over my life for six months and are currently fucking my brother.”
“I certainly understand your vexation,” James answers, taking a seat on the floor. “I would be equally as angry should I have wound up in your predicament.” He gestures to the ground beside him. “But you require more answers than you have, and our time is short.”
“Answers? I think I know everything. Bunch of souls in a glass amulet, possess people for six months.”
James laughs. “You are close, dear Samuel. But we do not live in that cursed medallion.” Sam frowns. “We are you, boy. I don’t know what words you have for it, but we share the same soul.”
“So Marcus and Dean...?”
“Marcus and Dean are the same soul as well, yes. We are brought forth by the devil’s magic inside the medallion.”
Sam can’t help but laugh. “Devil’s magic?”
James lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I will be as kind as I can to this body we share, Samuel. But do not deny me this one last chance to right the wrongs I committed to his.”
“I wish I could feel better about this, James. I really do. But... he’s my brother.” Sam winces just thinking about it. “And, could you call me Sam, do you think? You sound like my father.”
Laughing, James nods. “As you wish, then call me Jem. He does.”
Dean is already scowling when he can suddenly see Marcus in the odd dreamscape the plains of his mind are. “I feel no need to apologize for something I’ve hungered for, Master Dean.” Marcus’ voice is different in his head, a deep growl rather than Dean’s own voice. “You would liken me to a thief and a knave, so for the next half year, I will steal your life.”
Marcus is tall, probably only an inch below Sam if they stood together, his hair long and slanted into his brown eyes. He looks forbidding, and every inch the rogue he claims to be.
“You’d have done better in Sam,” Dean says with bite.
“Mm,” Marcus agrees, crossing his arms over his lean and narrow chest. “Aye, Sam and I might have done, if we shared a soul.”
That brings Dean up short. “Huh?”
“Do you not listen, when explanations are left out for your ears? The lady told you she was sharing a soul with Lynn Cooney. I merely share yours. We are the same.” Marcus looks earnestly at him, and Dean recoils a little. “Take pride, you have the soul of a highwayman.” Marcus waves a hand about himself. “This is as I looked back when I lived.”
Dean doesn’t look impressed. “Dude. You’re fucking my brother, and I’m supposed to feel good about this?”
Marcus raises a single eyebrow. “Dude?”
He waves a hand. “Whatever, language is not important right now. You’re still fucking my brother and making me watch.”
The other eyebrow rises to join the other. “I remember what you remember, Dean. Well, mostly... finer details are lost, unfortunately. But the way you act and carry on? I love my James well and I’d think twice before sellin’ my soul to the nearest devil.”
Dean falls silent, pensive and annoyed. It’s bad enough that he has to live every kiss and every orgasm that his brother has, now his soul is making smart aleck comments about the sacrifices they’ve each made.
“I’ve offended you,” Marcus says slowly. “This was not my intention. Jem is always telling me to mind my tongue, but my mind gets ahead of me sometimes.” He offers Dean a small smile. “I do apologize.”
“Jem?”
“Aye, ‘tis the short hand name I gave him.” Marcus smiles again, this time fondly. “You may call me Marc, if you so wish.”
He hates this whole situation, especially because under different circumstances, he’d have liked meeting Marc in a bar somewhere, trading stories. “Look, is there any way you could, I don’t know... block what I get from this whole thing? Because, seriously? Sam’s my brother.”
Marcus bites his lip for a second. “If there is, I know it not,” he says. “Just... lie back and think of England?”
Dean can’t help the barking laugh. “Somehow I don’t think that will help.”
“Then come, sit with me, converse with me. I wish to learn you. We are the same after all, are we not?” Marcus smiles disarmingly at Dean and sits on the ground. “Our time lasts until we wake.”
Grudgingly, Dean sits. They’ll make this work. Even if he has to think about England for most of it.
When James opens his eyes, he is greeted with a sight he hasn’t seen in a long time. Even though Marcus has much of Dean in him, build, height and facial structure, his eyes are all Marcus, brown, deep and warm. “Good morrow, Jem,” he whispers, pulling James closer. “This doesn’t seem real.”
“Just like old times,” James whispers back, pressing their foreheads together and pulling the blanket they’d found up over their heads. “Marc, do you remember... the first time we slept in our barn together?”
Smiling lazily, Marcus rolls onto his back. “Mm, aye. Had hay in places there should never be hay, thanks to you.”
Jem swats at him, the back of his hand connecting with Marcus’s belly. Marcus swats back and Jem pounces, tussling over him until he’s seated on his knees over Marcus’s hips. “That,” he says a little breathlessly, “was not my fault.”
Marcus catches his breath when James leans over him, long hair falling to curtain his face. Dean grumbles something about Sam’s hair being too long but Marcus ignores him in favor of tugging James down for a kiss.
Which makes Sam squirm and complain loudly about how wrong incest is, and wasn’t it a sin back when they were alive?
James rolls his eyes inwardly, deepening the kiss in response. They kiss gently, until Marcus’s stomach growls loudly between them. James pulls back with a laugh, nudging his nose against Marcus’s. “Let’s get something to eat, Marc. Play will come later.”
“Thank God,” Dean sighs, settling back. “Maybe now I can get some fucking sleep.” He fades away a little, as though he rolls over and covers himself up and Marcus has a spike of alarm. He’s gotten used to Dean’s constant complaining about the situation. “I didn’t go anywhere princess, so shut up and stop thinking so loud in my direction.”
Marcus smiles. They’re going to be fine.
“Marcus?” James asks, a little confused at the bright smile that steals over his lover’s face. “What are you thinking about?”
He snaps back into focus. “Dean, actually. He’s figured out how to fade away.” Some of Sam’s alarm bleeds into James’ face and Marcus is quick to continue. “It’s like going to sleep. He’s still there, but he’s not... aware. At least, not totally aware. He says I talk too much.”
James smiles. “You do. But Samuel says I think too hard, so perhaps we’re even.”
Sam pulls a face and crosses his arms over his chest. “It is not my fault,” he announces, “that you have a filthy mind.”
“We share a mind, Sam. Which means your mind is just as filthy as mine.”
That silences Sam for a while and James busies himself with breaking their fast. It’s all simple fare, sliced bread and the thickest jam he can find. He slices apples and digs out the jar of honey that is buried behind jars of things he doesn’t have names for off the top of his head. “Marc? It is ready.”
They sit together at the roughly hewn table, and eat together. It’s a novelty, because they’ve never done it before. Each of their trysts together had been rushed, a quick coupling in the hay or behind the barn. They’ve never had any time to spend just being together.
“How’d you meet anyway?” Sam asks, as they’re chewing. He sounds close, like he’s leaning over James’ shoulder.
“Academy,” James responds. “He was sneaking in, stealing, actually and I caught him. He came to my quarters... and I’m certain you can imagine the rest.”
Marcus looks up in time to catch the far away expression in James’ eyes. “You are speaking with young Samuel?”
“Aye,” James says. “He is very curious as to how we met.”
He takes another bite, hiding his smile. “You should tell him,” he says. “Every detail.”
James blushes and refuses to say more, no matter hard or how much Sam prods at him.
Their mouths separate with a gasp, and Marcus leans his forehead against James. “Can I move, Jem?”
“Fuck. Move, Marc. Do it.” James writhes against him, clinging to Marcus. “Please.”
Marcus thrusts his hips into James’ willing body, fucking down into him with abandon.
Sam jerks with him, throwing one arm over his eyes like it will block out the sensation of being fucked. He can see Marcus - Dean - Marcus moving over him and Sam digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Though the manifestation of his body is largely immaterial, he can feel himself growing hard, and he groans.
As Marcus thrusts into James, Sam twitches like it is happening to him. “Fuck,” he groans, trying to fade away, trying to ignore everything, “fuck, Dean.”
James’ eyes fly open in shock and he comes without warning. Marcus swears, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I love you,” he murmurs, and follows James over the edge.
As they drift off into sleep, James turns to face Sam. “Samuel,” he says, infinite gentleness in his tone. “Samuel, I am so, so sorry.”
Sam turns his face away. “Shut up, Jem.”
“You love him, don’t you? I’ve made you fall in love with him.” James settles himself beside the construct of Sam’s conscious. “It has been three of our six months. Things will be over soon enough.”
Snorting, Sam turns to face him. “And by then, Jem... the damage will already be done.”
“Samuel...”
“Never mind, James. Just let me sleep.” He pulls away, fading into the woodwork of the library of his mind. It isn’t possible to sleep for three months straight, but he can kill a good chunk of that by trying.
Month 6
Marcus can’t find the Medallion. It’s gone. It is in none of his clothes, none of James’. It is not in the car, nor is it anywhere in the cabin. It’s the beginning of the end. He feels tears come to his eyes as he sinks to his knees in the middle of the floor. He can feel Dean stirring at the back of his mind.
He sits there, silent until James enters the door with an armful of wood. “It’s time,” he says to the prince. “We’re over with.”
“The Medallion?”
“Gone.” Marcus looks up and James drops the wood when he sees his eyes. One eye is warm brown, and the other a clear, cool green. Dean’s eyes.
James kneels at his side. “Kiss me, my love. One last time.”
Their lips meet, and Dean yawns, stretching. Marcus’ body jerks against James before he slides to an unconscious heap in James’ arms.
He waits diligently by his lover’s side. He owes Sam that. Dean too.
November, 2011
Castiel appears with the sound of displaced air. “Sam,” he says, when Sam doesn’t move. “I have already spoken to Bobby. He explained everything to me.” He hesitates then, and adds, “... Are you alright?”
“No, Cas. I’m... not.” He turns to look at Cas. “I need to go to Montana.”
He’s wearing Dean’s amulet, Castiel notices. He says nothing, he doesn’t have to. There is nothing to say. He reaches out and touches Sam on the forehead. “I will find your brother, Sam,” he promises. “Wait for me.”
*tbc
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Notes & Soundtrack
Author: Miss ‘Drea
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~21,000
Beta: dH, blackcathollow ,jassy3399
Pairing: Sam/Dean, OMC/OFC
Summary: Sam and Dean find an amulet that lets the restless souls of their past selves live for six months, it’s a way to mend broken bridges and let soul-mates who may have lost their chance at happiness find some again. Marcus and James live for six months, but it’s Sam and Dean who must face the consequences of their actions.
Disclaimer: Gamble, Kripke and Singer own everything. Fredrick and Risika are mine. 100% literally.
| 3 |
many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade
many a soldier shed his life blood on my blade
Month 1
“Marcus?” James asks, blinking away the fog of a six hundred year long sleep, focusing on a face not quite his lover’s.
It breaks out into a grin that’s all Marcus. “James?” he asks, and the voice is lower, deeper pitched but everything about the man is Marcus.
“Of course it’s me,” James says crossly. “Who else would it be?” He gives Marcus a smile and a wink.
“Thank the Lord,” Marcus breathes, tugging James closer. “I thought you’d never return, Jem.”
James grins wider, running one hand through Marcus’ shorn hair. “I’m here now.”
“Aye,” Marcus agrees, just before drawing back and striking James full on in the face, splitting his lip. “You complete and utter bastard_” he shouts, pulling away. “You couldn’t even have the decency to grant me one last bloody visit in the jail before they killed me? Do you have any idea what that felt like?”
Rubbing his jaw and wiping away the blood, James winces. “I know,” he answers roughly. “My sister let me out of the root cellar and informed me that...” his voice breaks “that you’d been executed.”
Marcus pulls back even further, crossing his arms over his chest. “You didn’t know?”
“I knew that you had been imprisoned, same as I,” James admits. “But that you were scheduled to be hanged without trial? No. Lord, no, Marc. I didn’t know.”
Marcus’ face softens without his permission. “Jem,” he murmurs. “My God, how I have missed you.”
This time when Marcus moves in, it’s for a kiss. This kiss is gentle, as they learn these new bodies. Marcus tastes different as Dean and James is suddenly the taller one. Marcus’ lips move along James’ and he tilts his head to deepen it.
It’s like a switch has been flipped and desire turns on just as suddenly as the kiss began. James’ teeth bite into Marcus’ full lower lip, and Marcus’ moan is all startled pleasure.
There are less clothes for them to deal with than ever before and it takes no effort at all to skim a hand up Marcus’ side under the t-shirt.
“Fuck,” Marcus swears. “Inside, Jem. Now.”
They start to stumble up the steps together before James can feel - or hear - Samuel’s incessant reminder that their food has been left in the monstrosity and it will spoil if they leave it too long.
“Wait,” he pants out reluctantly. “The vittles, they’ll spoil.”
“Let them,” Marcus protests. “Fuck now, food later.”
James chuckles, pressing a kiss to the corner of Marcus’ lips and somewhere in the back of his head Dean grimaces. This is his brother he’s attacking with his mouth. It’s weird and it’s fucking uncomfortable.
“Come, Marc. The sooner our supplies are put away, the sooner you can have your wicked way with me.”
With a truly theatrical groan, Marcus pulls away and goes purposefully over to the car. “How do we open this forsaken appliance?” James laughs again, shaking his head.
“You open the fucking door,” Dean grouses, “and then you pop the trunk. It’s fucking muscle memory.”
“Shut up,” Marcus hisses at him, adjusting himself.
With a put upon sigh, James opens the door to pull the latch on the trunk. Marcus immediately begins gathering bags, complaining the whole while both inside and out.
Once everything is inside the cabin and mostly put away, the nagging feeling of Samuel has faded entirely and James turns just in time to catch Marcus’ lips with his. “Bloody Hell, Jem,” he begs, tugging Dean’s shirt over his head. “Don’t make me wait a second longer.”
Everything narrows down to the golden tanned expanse of skin displayed in front of him and James wets his lips. “God-damn,” he swears softly. “It has been far too long.” He drops to his knees, and places his hands on the buttons holding Marcus’ pants closed. “May I, Marc?” he pleads softly.
“Fuck, aye.” Marcus groans, scrabbling at the jeans to help James pull them off. “If they could see you, Jem. Son of the king on his knees a’fore a highwayman and a knave.”
James lays a tender kiss on the inside of Marcus’ knee. “No one here but you.”
“Us and them,” Marcus agrees breathlessly. “Now, Lord, Jem. Suck me.”
Sam recoils instantly even as his body leans forward to lick a stripe up Marcus’ - Dean’s - cock. There’s been a lot in his life that can be classified as weird and fucked up, but this, this definitely takes the cake. It doesn’t seem to matter that Sam’s never sucked a dick in his life, James clearly has and does so with abandon.
He wishes for a brief moment that he could talk psychically to Dean through the connection they shared, but telepathy definitely didn’t factor into it. And Dean is probably freaking out enough as it is.
Marcus doesn’t last long, it’s been too many years and this new body he’s trapped in craves touch badly enough that the minute Jem closes his lips around his cock, he’s already close to coming. “Christ, Jem,” he pants, “your mouth...” He arches his hips and clenches his fingers into the arms of the chair.
It’s difficult to keep a level head, while watching your little brother give you head, Dean thinks a little hysterically. Not only that but James is good at it and Sam’s mouth seems made for it. Dean tries to bury himself under layers of denial, a metaphorical la-la-la to the whole situation, but he’s stuck in the front seat of the drive-in movie, and the porn is good enough that even Dean has to wish he had a cock to jerk off with.
When Marcus looks down at James and sees the glimmer of his smile in his familiar blue eyes, Marcus loses it.
With a short, wild cry, he comes down James’ throat and slumps in his chair, breathing heavily. James swallows, wiping the back of one hand over his swollen lips. “You taste the same,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of Marcus thigh. “Fuck, but you even smell the same.”
“Damn it, Jem,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “I think you’ve gone and killed me.”
James rises fluidly to his feet, a rider’s grace and straddles Marcus with a wicked grin. “I should hope not,” he purrs. “Otherwise I should be very put out.”
Marcus kisses him instead of replying. They share the taste of Dean between them and Marcus can feel himself hardening again. “Jem, Christ.”
He arches his hips up and brushes his bare length against Jem’s still clothed erection. “You are wearing far too much, my Jem.”
James smiles against his lips. “Let go of my hips and perhaps I’ll remove it all.” Marcus lets go reflexively and all but shoves James off his lap. James, for his part, laughs. “Impatient are we?” he asks with a cocksure grin.
Sam winces and covers his ears because this is just too much. He can feel his body throbbing with arousal and it’s been long enough since he last got laid that he’s almost eager for what’s coming next.
Marcus narrows his eyes at James and crosses his arms over his bare chest. “I could take care of this,” he gestures obscenely, “myself, Jem.” He had meant it to sound threatening, but when James stops stripping off his clothes to sit, legs crossed on the floor, he can’t help but blink. “Jem?”
Dean’s not an exhibitionist by nature, but it’s not as though he hasn’t jerked off for his partners before. But the thought of jerking off in front of Sam... that’s something different entirely.
“Please,” James says, gesturing expansively. “By all means.”
A burning flush slides down his face to pool in his chest. “You wish a show, my prince?”
The expression on James’ face softens into a tender look. “What I wish is to enjoy the next six months,” he says, grinning a little. “If that requires your putting on a show, then so be it.”
Marcus’ blush intensifies one hundred fold but he grasps himself loosely. “Come, my prince,” he murmurs. “This encounter is feeling very one sided. At least finish disrobing.”
It takes James no time at all to strip off Sam’s jeans. “I want you to fuck me,” James says seriously as he sits at Marcus’ feet again.
Sam’s alarm spikes so hard that even James feels it. He hasn’t been fucked since... Jess. She used to love putting on this ridiculous purple and pink swirled strap on- and this isn’t helping. Still, it’s been... six years since the last time he’d done that and he’s seen what Dean’s packing. No, thank you.
He grips himself tighter at the words but smiles ruefully. “It has been at least six hundred years since you and I have touched, and your borrowed body has never been breached, so we’ll take it slow. We have all the time in the world.”
“Excuse me,” Sam says. “Could we forgo this whole idea, do you think?”
He can feel James grin. “Sorry, Samuel. But now it’s my turn.”
Distracted, James’ expression grows sorrowful. “Six months?” He scoffs. “Six months is nothing.”
“No,” Marcus admonishes, repeating Risika’s words from what seems like a lifetime ago. “Six months is everything.” He slides off the chair to press himself chest to chest with James. “I can’t fuck you yet, Jem. But there are other things. Lay back.”
James drops back onto his elbows, to watch what Marcus is going to do next. Marcus leans forward and presses their lips together, it’s a distraction and it works. They slide together wetly, and sparks of pleasure settle in Marcus’ belly. “Fuck, but I love kissing you,” he whispers, feeling James’ answering smile.
They jerk each other off, just like the first time they’d ever been together more than six hundred years ago, and fall asleep curled naked around each other‘s bodies by the fire.
James turns around as the room around them builds itself a set of walls and he can hear the annoyed noises of Sam just behind him. “Hello Samuel,” he says with a small smile. “I do hope you aren’t too cross with me.”
“I’m not sure ‘cross’ is the right word, no,” Sam says evenly. “Considering you’re taking over my life for six months and are currently fucking my brother.”
“I certainly understand your vexation,” James answers, taking a seat on the floor. “I would be equally as angry should I have wound up in your predicament.” He gestures to the ground beside him. “But you require more answers than you have, and our time is short.”
“Answers? I think I know everything. Bunch of souls in a glass amulet, possess people for six months.”
James laughs. “You are close, dear Samuel. But we do not live in that cursed medallion.” Sam frowns. “We are you, boy. I don’t know what words you have for it, but we share the same soul.”
“So Marcus and Dean...?”
“Marcus and Dean are the same soul as well, yes. We are brought forth by the devil’s magic inside the medallion.”
Sam can’t help but laugh. “Devil’s magic?”
James lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I will be as kind as I can to this body we share, Samuel. But do not deny me this one last chance to right the wrongs I committed to his.”
“I wish I could feel better about this, James. I really do. But... he’s my brother.” Sam winces just thinking about it. “And, could you call me Sam, do you think? You sound like my father.”
Laughing, James nods. “As you wish, then call me Jem. He does.”
Dean is already scowling when he can suddenly see Marcus in the odd dreamscape the plains of his mind are. “I feel no need to apologize for something I’ve hungered for, Master Dean.” Marcus’ voice is different in his head, a deep growl rather than Dean’s own voice. “You would liken me to a thief and a knave, so for the next half year, I will steal your life.”
Marcus is tall, probably only an inch below Sam if they stood together, his hair long and slanted into his brown eyes. He looks forbidding, and every inch the rogue he claims to be.
“You’d have done better in Sam,” Dean says with bite.
“Mm,” Marcus agrees, crossing his arms over his lean and narrow chest. “Aye, Sam and I might have done, if we shared a soul.”
That brings Dean up short. “Huh?”
“Do you not listen, when explanations are left out for your ears? The lady told you she was sharing a soul with Lynn Cooney. I merely share yours. We are the same.” Marcus looks earnestly at him, and Dean recoils a little. “Take pride, you have the soul of a highwayman.” Marcus waves a hand about himself. “This is as I looked back when I lived.”
Dean doesn’t look impressed. “Dude. You’re fucking my brother, and I’m supposed to feel good about this?”
Marcus raises a single eyebrow. “Dude?”
He waves a hand. “Whatever, language is not important right now. You’re still fucking my brother and making me watch.”
The other eyebrow rises to join the other. “I remember what you remember, Dean. Well, mostly... finer details are lost, unfortunately. But the way you act and carry on? I love my James well and I’d think twice before sellin’ my soul to the nearest devil.”
Dean falls silent, pensive and annoyed. It’s bad enough that he has to live every kiss and every orgasm that his brother has, now his soul is making smart aleck comments about the sacrifices they’ve each made.
“I’ve offended you,” Marcus says slowly. “This was not my intention. Jem is always telling me to mind my tongue, but my mind gets ahead of me sometimes.” He offers Dean a small smile. “I do apologize.”
“Jem?”
“Aye, ‘tis the short hand name I gave him.” Marcus smiles again, this time fondly. “You may call me Marc, if you so wish.”
He hates this whole situation, especially because under different circumstances, he’d have liked meeting Marc in a bar somewhere, trading stories. “Look, is there any way you could, I don’t know... block what I get from this whole thing? Because, seriously? Sam’s my brother.”
Marcus bites his lip for a second. “If there is, I know it not,” he says. “Just... lie back and think of England?”
Dean can’t help the barking laugh. “Somehow I don’t think that will help.”
“Then come, sit with me, converse with me. I wish to learn you. We are the same after all, are we not?” Marcus smiles disarmingly at Dean and sits on the ground. “Our time lasts until we wake.”
Grudgingly, Dean sits. They’ll make this work. Even if he has to think about England for most of it.
When James opens his eyes, he is greeted with a sight he hasn’t seen in a long time. Even though Marcus has much of Dean in him, build, height and facial structure, his eyes are all Marcus, brown, deep and warm. “Good morrow, Jem,” he whispers, pulling James closer. “This doesn’t seem real.”
“Just like old times,” James whispers back, pressing their foreheads together and pulling the blanket they’d found up over their heads. “Marc, do you remember... the first time we slept in our barn together?”
Smiling lazily, Marcus rolls onto his back. “Mm, aye. Had hay in places there should never be hay, thanks to you.”
Jem swats at him, the back of his hand connecting with Marcus’s belly. Marcus swats back and Jem pounces, tussling over him until he’s seated on his knees over Marcus’s hips. “That,” he says a little breathlessly, “was not my fault.”
Marcus catches his breath when James leans over him, long hair falling to curtain his face. Dean grumbles something about Sam’s hair being too long but Marcus ignores him in favor of tugging James down for a kiss.
Which makes Sam squirm and complain loudly about how wrong incest is, and wasn’t it a sin back when they were alive?
James rolls his eyes inwardly, deepening the kiss in response. They kiss gently, until Marcus’s stomach growls loudly between them. James pulls back with a laugh, nudging his nose against Marcus’s. “Let’s get something to eat, Marc. Play will come later.”
“Thank God,” Dean sighs, settling back. “Maybe now I can get some fucking sleep.” He fades away a little, as though he rolls over and covers himself up and Marcus has a spike of alarm. He’s gotten used to Dean’s constant complaining about the situation. “I didn’t go anywhere princess, so shut up and stop thinking so loud in my direction.”
Marcus smiles. They’re going to be fine.
“Marcus?” James asks, a little confused at the bright smile that steals over his lover’s face. “What are you thinking about?”
He snaps back into focus. “Dean, actually. He’s figured out how to fade away.” Some of Sam’s alarm bleeds into James’ face and Marcus is quick to continue. “It’s like going to sleep. He’s still there, but he’s not... aware. At least, not totally aware. He says I talk too much.”
James smiles. “You do. But Samuel says I think too hard, so perhaps we’re even.”
Sam pulls a face and crosses his arms over his chest. “It is not my fault,” he announces, “that you have a filthy mind.”
“We share a mind, Sam. Which means your mind is just as filthy as mine.”
That silences Sam for a while and James busies himself with breaking their fast. It’s all simple fare, sliced bread and the thickest jam he can find. He slices apples and digs out the jar of honey that is buried behind jars of things he doesn’t have names for off the top of his head. “Marc? It is ready.”
They sit together at the roughly hewn table, and eat together. It’s a novelty, because they’ve never done it before. Each of their trysts together had been rushed, a quick coupling in the hay or behind the barn. They’ve never had any time to spend just being together.
“How’d you meet anyway?” Sam asks, as they’re chewing. He sounds close, like he’s leaning over James’ shoulder.
“Academy,” James responds. “He was sneaking in, stealing, actually and I caught him. He came to my quarters... and I’m certain you can imagine the rest.”
Marcus looks up in time to catch the far away expression in James’ eyes. “You are speaking with young Samuel?”
“Aye,” James says. “He is very curious as to how we met.”
He takes another bite, hiding his smile. “You should tell him,” he says. “Every detail.”
James blushes and refuses to say more, no matter hard or how much Sam prods at him.
Their mouths separate with a gasp, and Marcus leans his forehead against James. “Can I move, Jem?”
“Fuck. Move, Marc. Do it.” James writhes against him, clinging to Marcus. “Please.”
Marcus thrusts his hips into James’ willing body, fucking down into him with abandon.
Sam jerks with him, throwing one arm over his eyes like it will block out the sensation of being fucked. He can see Marcus - Dean - Marcus moving over him and Sam digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Though the manifestation of his body is largely immaterial, he can feel himself growing hard, and he groans.
As Marcus thrusts into James, Sam twitches like it is happening to him. “Fuck,” he groans, trying to fade away, trying to ignore everything, “fuck, Dean.”
James’ eyes fly open in shock and he comes without warning. Marcus swears, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I love you,” he murmurs, and follows James over the edge.
As they drift off into sleep, James turns to face Sam. “Samuel,” he says, infinite gentleness in his tone. “Samuel, I am so, so sorry.”
Sam turns his face away. “Shut up, Jem.”
“You love him, don’t you? I’ve made you fall in love with him.” James settles himself beside the construct of Sam’s conscious. “It has been three of our six months. Things will be over soon enough.”
Snorting, Sam turns to face him. “And by then, Jem... the damage will already be done.”
“Samuel...”
“Never mind, James. Just let me sleep.” He pulls away, fading into the woodwork of the library of his mind. It isn’t possible to sleep for three months straight, but he can kill a good chunk of that by trying.
Month 6
Marcus can’t find the Medallion. It’s gone. It is in none of his clothes, none of James’. It is not in the car, nor is it anywhere in the cabin. It’s the beginning of the end. He feels tears come to his eyes as he sinks to his knees in the middle of the floor. He can feel Dean stirring at the back of his mind.
He sits there, silent until James enters the door with an armful of wood. “It’s time,” he says to the prince. “We’re over with.”
“The Medallion?”
“Gone.” Marcus looks up and James drops the wood when he sees his eyes. One eye is warm brown, and the other a clear, cool green. Dean’s eyes.
James kneels at his side. “Kiss me, my love. One last time.”
Their lips meet, and Dean yawns, stretching. Marcus’ body jerks against James before he slides to an unconscious heap in James’ arms.
He waits diligently by his lover’s side. He owes Sam that. Dean too.
November, 2011
Castiel appears with the sound of displaced air. “Sam,” he says, when Sam doesn’t move. “I have already spoken to Bobby. He explained everything to me.” He hesitates then, and adds, “... Are you alright?”
“No, Cas. I’m... not.” He turns to look at Cas. “I need to go to Montana.”
He’s wearing Dean’s amulet, Castiel notices. He says nothing, he doesn’t have to. There is nothing to say. He reaches out and touches Sam on the forehead. “I will find your brother, Sam,” he promises. “Wait for me.”
*tbc
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