original by flawedamythyst
Remix Title: Trapped in yearning (The Possession Remix)
Remix Author: joans23
Original Story: He’s Mine
Original Author: flawedamythyst
Rating: R
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess
Summary: Possession is nine tenths of the law.
Dean’s still buried deep inside his brother, becoming aware of the sweat cooling on his skin, when Sam starts to cry.
“Did I … Sam, did I hurt you?”
They’re small, silent tears at first, hot against Dean’s fingers, but they turn into loud gulps of air, shuddering down his chest and Sam can’t answer. He just buries his head closer against Dean’s neck and tightens his hold around his brother’s middle.
Dean strokes Sam’s hair, unsure of what to do as his cock softens and slips from Sam’s body. He doesn't know what he did, but he keeps clumsily trying to comfort him as best he can until Sam can tell him what he must do to fix it.
Sam finally quiets down, untangles their limbs and gets up to pad naked across the room. He rummages through his duffle and turns back to Dean holding an envelope tightly against his chest. His look at Dean is one of utter desolation, like their world is about to end.
He disappears to college on a bus two days later.
xxxxxxxxxx
Dean barely waits for the dust to settle before he guns the engine, the Impala’s nose pointed south. He arrives at Stanford before Sam does.
xxxxxxxxxx
Dean flirts with the pretty little assistant in admissions for Sam’s address, tells her a story that’s uncomfortably close to the truth. He says he wants to fix up his little brother’s room as a surprise. He doesn’t say that fixing up for a Winchester means camouflaged secret salt lines, wards and talismans carved into hidden crevices.
He sleeps in the car and waits across the street to watch as Sam moves in. He’s strangely proud when Sam sends his roommate out for pizza and starts to move through the place with a hunting knife.
When Sam finds the sigils he left, Dean sees Sam rest his hand against them reverently, a feint smile tugging at his lips. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Sam looks up and straight at him leaning casually against the lamp pole.
They fuck on Sam’s hard single bed and Dean’s gone before the roommate gets back.
xxxxxxxxxx
Dean stops by between every job, one hunt barely finished and the next lined up. Sometimes Sam sees him, sometimes not.
xxxxxxxxxx
They hang out in dark little corners of bars where Dean can rest his hand on Sam’s leg, where Sam can lick the ketchup from the corner of Dean’s mouth without anyone seeing. They have picnics with beer and cold pie and Sam quotes his favourite lectures verbatim and Dean smiles like he understands every word. What he does understand is Sam's happy and that's enough.
xxxxxxxxxx
He knows she’s trouble the moment he lays eyes on her. She’s blond and beautiful, so much like their long lost, never forgotten mother. It makes his chest ache.
Her name is Jess and she looks at Sam like he belongs to her. Sam’s in love and Dean hates her.
xxxxxxxxxx
Sam starts making excuses when Dean knocks on the door. He has to do it that way now; Sam doesn’t look for him anymore, half hidden when he wants to be found.
He has a test to study for. His roommate has someone staying over. He’s feeling sick. Dean doesn’t buy any of it. He knows he’s with her.
xxxxxxxxxx
He gets hurt on purpose, lets the poltergeist have a little fun so he can show up feverish and bloody. Knows Sam will have to let him in that way.
He lets Dean kiss him before the whiskey and painkillers kick in.
Three days later Dean’s getting a little tired of playing sick, but not of playing house. Sam cooks him little cans of soup on a hotplate in the corner, adds bits of crispy bacon just the way Dean likes it. He changes Dean’s dressings and underwear, keeps the TV tuned to old reruns of Charlie’s Angels.
Careful of Dean’s stitches, Sam sucks him off. He wraps his long fingers and warm mouth around Dean’s cock, closes his eyes when Dean comes fast and heavy on his tongue. He won’t let Dean repay the favour, disappears into the bathroom where Dean can hear the shower running.
Seven days in and Dean can see Sam getting antsy, something itching under his skin that reminds Dean of jonesing for a hunt. He goes before Sam can ask him to leave.
xxxxxxxxxx
Dean follows them to the park, to their tree. They drink wine from plastic glasses and snack on little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Sam reads her poetry as he lies with his head on her lap. She plays with his soft brown hair, her fingers saying he’s mine as they comb through the unruly strands.
xxxxxxxxxx
Dean spies through the window when Sam fucks her. Spread out beneath him she writhes and moans as his hands explore every inch of her body. Sam’s hands, large and safe, rub and curl and stroke and Dean can feel himself getting hard in his jeans, dampness spreading around the front of his underwear. He shifts down a little bit so he can no longer see her, only Sam. Sam, with muscles rippling beneath sweat-sheened skin with every thrust, his tightly closed eyes, his mouth bruised and swollen.
Dean envisions cutting out her tongue when she comes with Sam’s name on her lips.
xxxxxxxxxx
He starts following her around, steals her student records, rummages through her trash and eavesdrops as she gossips with her friends. She’s bad news and he’ll prove it to Sam one way or another. Get him back.
xxxxxxxxxx
“What are you doing, Dean?”
Dean tries to not let the surprise show; he didn’t realise Sam was watching him as he was watching her. He briefly considers lying, but turns towards his brother with downcast eyes instead.
“You know what. I’m … checking on her.”
“You’re stalking Jess, spying on us.”
“I have to be sure.”
‘No, you don’t. I’m sure, and that’s enough.”
Dean’s gaze shoots up, locking with his brothers. Sam reads what Dean can’t say out loud. I don’t trust her. She’s taking you from me. I need you.
Dean knows Sam can see it all, that he’s completely exposed. Sam takes a step forward and Dean tenses up, readying himself for the punch.
Instead Sam pulls him in close, kisses him like before. Lips soft and pliant, opening easily under Dean’s command, allowing Dean to lick inside and run his tongue over the smooth edges of Sam’s teeth. He lets Dean kiss him until he’s satisfied, breaking contact with a desperate gasp for air.
Sam grips the back of Dean’s head tightly, lets their foreheads rest against each other. He’s looking into Dean’s eyes, too close, his eyes struggling to focus.
“I’ll always be yours, Dean. But now I’m hers too.”
Then he lets Dean go.
Remix Author: joans23
Original Story: He’s Mine
Original Author: flawedamythyst
Rating: R
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess
Summary: Possession is nine tenths of the law.
Dean’s still buried deep inside his brother, becoming aware of the sweat cooling on his skin, when Sam starts to cry.
“Did I … Sam, did I hurt you?”
They’re small, silent tears at first, hot against Dean’s fingers, but they turn into loud gulps of air, shuddering down his chest and Sam can’t answer. He just buries his head closer against Dean’s neck and tightens his hold around his brother’s middle.
Dean strokes Sam’s hair, unsure of what to do as his cock softens and slips from Sam’s body. He doesn't know what he did, but he keeps clumsily trying to comfort him as best he can until Sam can tell him what he must do to fix it.
Sam finally quiets down, untangles their limbs and gets up to pad naked across the room. He rummages through his duffle and turns back to Dean holding an envelope tightly against his chest. His look at Dean is one of utter desolation, like their world is about to end.
He disappears to college on a bus two days later.
xxxxxxxxxx
Dean barely waits for the dust to settle before he guns the engine, the Impala’s nose pointed south. He arrives at Stanford before Sam does.
xxxxxxxxxx
Dean flirts with the pretty little assistant in admissions for Sam’s address, tells her a story that’s uncomfortably close to the truth. He says he wants to fix up his little brother’s room as a surprise. He doesn’t say that fixing up for a Winchester means camouflaged secret salt lines, wards and talismans carved into hidden crevices.
He sleeps in the car and waits across the street to watch as Sam moves in. He’s strangely proud when Sam sends his roommate out for pizza and starts to move through the place with a hunting knife.
When Sam finds the sigils he left, Dean sees Sam rest his hand against them reverently, a feint smile tugging at his lips. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Sam looks up and straight at him leaning casually against the lamp pole.
They fuck on Sam’s hard single bed and Dean’s gone before the roommate gets back.
xxxxxxxxxx
Dean stops by between every job, one hunt barely finished and the next lined up. Sometimes Sam sees him, sometimes not.
xxxxxxxxxx
They hang out in dark little corners of bars where Dean can rest his hand on Sam’s leg, where Sam can lick the ketchup from the corner of Dean’s mouth without anyone seeing. They have picnics with beer and cold pie and Sam quotes his favourite lectures verbatim and Dean smiles like he understands every word. What he does understand is Sam's happy and that's enough.
xxxxxxxxxx
He knows she’s trouble the moment he lays eyes on her. She’s blond and beautiful, so much like their long lost, never forgotten mother. It makes his chest ache.
Her name is Jess and she looks at Sam like he belongs to her. Sam’s in love and Dean hates her.
xxxxxxxxxx
Sam starts making excuses when Dean knocks on the door. He has to do it that way now; Sam doesn’t look for him anymore, half hidden when he wants to be found.
He has a test to study for. His roommate has someone staying over. He’s feeling sick. Dean doesn’t buy any of it. He knows he’s with her.
xxxxxxxxxx
He gets hurt on purpose, lets the poltergeist have a little fun so he can show up feverish and bloody. Knows Sam will have to let him in that way.
He lets Dean kiss him before the whiskey and painkillers kick in.
Three days later Dean’s getting a little tired of playing sick, but not of playing house. Sam cooks him little cans of soup on a hotplate in the corner, adds bits of crispy bacon just the way Dean likes it. He changes Dean’s dressings and underwear, keeps the TV tuned to old reruns of Charlie’s Angels.
Careful of Dean’s stitches, Sam sucks him off. He wraps his long fingers and warm mouth around Dean’s cock, closes his eyes when Dean comes fast and heavy on his tongue. He won’t let Dean repay the favour, disappears into the bathroom where Dean can hear the shower running.
Seven days in and Dean can see Sam getting antsy, something itching under his skin that reminds Dean of jonesing for a hunt. He goes before Sam can ask him to leave.
xxxxxxxxxx
Dean follows them to the park, to their tree. They drink wine from plastic glasses and snack on little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Sam reads her poetry as he lies with his head on her lap. She plays with his soft brown hair, her fingers saying he’s mine as they comb through the unruly strands.
xxxxxxxxxx
Dean spies through the window when Sam fucks her. Spread out beneath him she writhes and moans as his hands explore every inch of her body. Sam’s hands, large and safe, rub and curl and stroke and Dean can feel himself getting hard in his jeans, dampness spreading around the front of his underwear. He shifts down a little bit so he can no longer see her, only Sam. Sam, with muscles rippling beneath sweat-sheened skin with every thrust, his tightly closed eyes, his mouth bruised and swollen.
Dean envisions cutting out her tongue when she comes with Sam’s name on her lips.
xxxxxxxxxx
He starts following her around, steals her student records, rummages through her trash and eavesdrops as she gossips with her friends. She’s bad news and he’ll prove it to Sam one way or another. Get him back.
xxxxxxxxxx
“What are you doing, Dean?”
Dean tries to not let the surprise show; he didn’t realise Sam was watching him as he was watching her. He briefly considers lying, but turns towards his brother with downcast eyes instead.
“You know what. I’m … checking on her.”
“You’re stalking Jess, spying on us.”
“I have to be sure.”
‘No, you don’t. I’m sure, and that’s enough.”
Dean’s gaze shoots up, locking with his brothers. Sam reads what Dean can’t say out loud. I don’t trust her. She’s taking you from me. I need you.
Dean knows Sam can see it all, that he’s completely exposed. Sam takes a step forward and Dean tenses up, readying himself for the punch.
Instead Sam pulls him in close, kisses him like before. Lips soft and pliant, opening easily under Dean’s command, allowing Dean to lick inside and run his tongue over the smooth edges of Sam’s teeth. He lets Dean kiss him until he’s satisfied, breaking contact with a desperate gasp for air.
Sam grips the back of Dean’s head tightly, lets their foreheads rest against each other. He’s looking into Dean’s eyes, too close, his eyes struggling to focus.
“I’ll always be yours, Dean. But now I’m hers too.”
Then he lets Dean go.