It's my birthday, I can post what I want to
Dean and Sam share their dreams. It's not unheard of, among the riders; maybe a little unusual, but they know of others who do the same at times, slip into each other's dreams to taste what life is like on the other side, to run together in matching shapes or share comfort when their bodies are miles apart. Dean and Sam are strange for making a lifestyle of it, though, not just sharing sleep occasionally but almost every night, as close together by night as by day.
And as far as they know they're the only ones who started by instinct, by accident.
They've done it since Dean was eleven years old and Sam still slept curled up on his pillow; since the time Dean first accidentally slipped into Sam's sleeping mind across their bondlink and physical proximity, fell into endless strangely-colored sky to curl through the dreaming air alongside him, two small winged shadows fluttering over water side by side.
When they're on the road Dean sleeps under one enormous wing, Sam's long neck curled around to tuck his head under beside Dean, feeling their bond simmer back and forth between them.
Dean's vaguely horny from riding all day, half boredom and half adrenaline. His cock is half-hard in his pants even after all the distraction of dinner and putting down camp. Curled in the smoky-warm darkness with Sam's head, giant warm body all around him, he sneaks one hand down into the placket of his flying leathers, slipping the buttons open to curl around himself and tug.
There's a snort in the darkness next to him and a huge rough wet tounge scrapes against his busy forearm warningly. "Go to sleep," Sam rumbles.
In response Dean reaches up and strokes his fingers teasingly over the delicate shell of Sam's ear. Sam shivers, low purr rumbling in the bronze flank to Dean's right, head nudging closer into the caress to Dean's left. He keeps his fingers there, rubbing lightly, while he keeps stroking himself with his other hand.
"You sure about that?"
Sam sighs hugely, warm dragony breath gusting against Dean's face, then swipes at Dean's poor tender bare skin with his rough tounge again. "Don't be stupid. Go to sleep."
Dean rolls his eyes and gives himself a few more slow pulls, just because, before pulling his hand out of his pants to settle it against his chest and curl his body into the curve of Sam's jawbone. He falls asleep with his fingers still tucked into the sensitive folds of Sam's ear, the vague fuzziness of arousal following him into dreams.
Dreams where Sam is already waiting, stretched out on top of Dean, hazel human eyes crinkling with the force of his smug slightly toolarge toosharp grin, chin propped up on his forearms which are folded over Dean's chest, pinning him. They are in some vaguely-defined luxurious room, draped in gauzy cloths Ellesmera-style, low bed swathed in fabric and Sam's dream skin is buck naked, gigantic tanned human limbs sprawling everywhere. Dean runs one leather-gloved hand down the dream-broad swathe of Sam's naked back. Dean's wearing all his riding leathers in this dream, even his goggles.
"Kinky, Sammy."
"Tell that to yourself, Dean, it's not my dream." Sam leans up to lick and nose at Dean's mouth and chin, their tongues brushing, broad thumbs rubbing Dean's jaw as one giant hand pushes off the flying goggles and curls halfway around Dean's skull.
"Dude, why do you always have to be bigger than me?"
Sam nuzzles his stubby human face into Dean's shoulder and laps at the skin there, smirking. "It's the truth, isn't it?" His tongue is a tiny bit rougher than a real human's, even here.
Dean lets his hands settle onto naked hips. With a moment of dreaming inattention his gloves disappear (along with half of his other clothes) and he can stroke the erratic constellation of moles there that mimics the whorling scale defects that mar Sam's thighs.
"All I'm saying is, I think you have some size insecurities."
"Pot, kettle." Sam bites a nipple to shut him up.
"Yeah, yeah."
Sam pauses in licking his way down Dean's chest to press one ear against his sternum and listen for a moment, eyes closing in pleasure. Dean concentrates on the feel of his dreaming heart, lungs, makes sure Sam hears what he's listening for. He used to press his head to Dean's chest just like this in reality, listen to the sound of Dean's alien-familiar pulse, but he's gotten too large to do this in real life any more.
Sam bites at his hipbones and Dean rubs at his jaw, at the soft curves of his ears, which seems to drive him just as crazy in here as it does in the real world, imaginary human skin or no. Tease each other until they're both mad for it and clawing at skin, Dean's pants forgotten and vanishing halfway down his thighs so they can grind nakedly against each other. Sam's growling like the animal he is, low rumble that shakes the ground under them and pours into Dean in a buzzing caress, Dean licking and sucking at Sam's neck and jaw and then he seizes the tender stretch of skin just under Sam's chin and bites which has Sam squirming, growl gone high and breathy, hands clenching on Dean's shoulders and rubbing his cock wetly against Dean's belly, spine curving eagerly, until they can't take any more, until Sam is resettling his muscled thighs on either side of Dean and sliding himself onto Dean's cock, and Dean is sinking into hotwetslick giving way for him, at the same time that something hot and hard and slippery is rutting into him, angled just right, and he grunts and jerks his hips into it, up and back, pulling Sam's hips down into his crushingly. Spreads his legs into it, for it, bracing his heels to thrust up while Sam huffs and puffs above him, on him, head thrown back, hands gripped bruisingly tight around Dean's forearms, cock jerking hard and throbbing between his spread legs and spearing inside Dean at the same time. Dreams are fucking wonderful.
Sam's so wet inside, almost more like pussy than like lube tonight. Dean can feel slickness dripping down onto his balls, licks his lips and wonders if that's Sam's detail or his, wonders if it matters.
Sam moans when he starts coming, a weirdly human sound, head listing to one side while his thighs shudder and his ass clenches around Dean, come pattering onto Dean's chest and filling him up inside at the same time, just as he's filling Sam up, orgasm shuddering up out of his balls, dragged out of him by the crushing force of Sam coming across their mindlink, and for the instant that they're coming together they twitch and shudder into each other and the dream becomes a hotwetsogood sam dean fucking rutting slick sex skin against scale skin slippery trembling coming blur of both of them together before they come back down into their own skins, Sam slumped across Dean's chest, Dean tasting the musky dragon smell of Sam's hair.
Sometimes Dean has claws and tail and wings and fangs, fire burning in his chest and they chase each other through the bluegoldwhite skies of Sam's dreams, circling each other endlessly under the blazing sun until joy is all but sizzling under his scales and they finally collide into a thunder of graygreen scales on chestnut, still on the wing, tails tangling deliciously.
Most of the dragon-riders would be surprised by this kind of relationship among their ranks, probably. Would be revolted if they knew the real reason why Dean's stopped trying to sleep his way through Iileria, why Sam hasn't taken another dragon on wing in decades. Even Sam never quite had the nerve to ask if they were normal, if any other dragons and riders ever did this. They both know instinctively; this is not the way things are done.
But it's them.
... LOL?
And as far as they know they're the only ones who started by instinct, by accident.
They've done it since Dean was eleven years old and Sam still slept curled up on his pillow; since the time Dean first accidentally slipped into Sam's sleeping mind across their bondlink and physical proximity, fell into endless strangely-colored sky to curl through the dreaming air alongside him, two small winged shadows fluttering over water side by side.
When they're on the road Dean sleeps under one enormous wing, Sam's long neck curled around to tuck his head under beside Dean, feeling their bond simmer back and forth between them.
Dean's vaguely horny from riding all day, half boredom and half adrenaline. His cock is half-hard in his pants even after all the distraction of dinner and putting down camp. Curled in the smoky-warm darkness with Sam's head, giant warm body all around him, he sneaks one hand down into the placket of his flying leathers, slipping the buttons open to curl around himself and tug.
There's a snort in the darkness next to him and a huge rough wet tounge scrapes against his busy forearm warningly. "Go to sleep," Sam rumbles.
In response Dean reaches up and strokes his fingers teasingly over the delicate shell of Sam's ear. Sam shivers, low purr rumbling in the bronze flank to Dean's right, head nudging closer into the caress to Dean's left. He keeps his fingers there, rubbing lightly, while he keeps stroking himself with his other hand.
"You sure about that?"
Sam sighs hugely, warm dragony breath gusting against Dean's face, then swipes at Dean's poor tender bare skin with his rough tounge again. "Don't be stupid. Go to sleep."
Dean rolls his eyes and gives himself a few more slow pulls, just because, before pulling his hand out of his pants to settle it against his chest and curl his body into the curve of Sam's jawbone. He falls asleep with his fingers still tucked into the sensitive folds of Sam's ear, the vague fuzziness of arousal following him into dreams.
Dreams where Sam is already waiting, stretched out on top of Dean, hazel human eyes crinkling with the force of his smug slightly toolarge toosharp grin, chin propped up on his forearms which are folded over Dean's chest, pinning him. They are in some vaguely-defined luxurious room, draped in gauzy cloths Ellesmera-style, low bed swathed in fabric and Sam's dream skin is buck naked, gigantic tanned human limbs sprawling everywhere. Dean runs one leather-gloved hand down the dream-broad swathe of Sam's naked back. Dean's wearing all his riding leathers in this dream, even his goggles.
"Kinky, Sammy."
"Tell that to yourself, Dean, it's not my dream." Sam leans up to lick and nose at Dean's mouth and chin, their tongues brushing, broad thumbs rubbing Dean's jaw as one giant hand pushes off the flying goggles and curls halfway around Dean's skull.
"Dude, why do you always have to be bigger than me?"
Sam nuzzles his stubby human face into Dean's shoulder and laps at the skin there, smirking. "It's the truth, isn't it?" His tongue is a tiny bit rougher than a real human's, even here.
Dean lets his hands settle onto naked hips. With a moment of dreaming inattention his gloves disappear (along with half of his other clothes) and he can stroke the erratic constellation of moles there that mimics the whorling scale defects that mar Sam's thighs.
"All I'm saying is, I think you have some size insecurities."
"Pot, kettle." Sam bites a nipple to shut him up.
"Yeah, yeah."
Sam pauses in licking his way down Dean's chest to press one ear against his sternum and listen for a moment, eyes closing in pleasure. Dean concentrates on the feel of his dreaming heart, lungs, makes sure Sam hears what he's listening for. He used to press his head to Dean's chest just like this in reality, listen to the sound of Dean's alien-familiar pulse, but he's gotten too large to do this in real life any more.
Sam bites at his hipbones and Dean rubs at his jaw, at the soft curves of his ears, which seems to drive him just as crazy in here as it does in the real world, imaginary human skin or no. Tease each other until they're both mad for it and clawing at skin, Dean's pants forgotten and vanishing halfway down his thighs so they can grind nakedly against each other. Sam's growling like the animal he is, low rumble that shakes the ground under them and pours into Dean in a buzzing caress, Dean licking and sucking at Sam's neck and jaw and then he seizes the tender stretch of skin just under Sam's chin and bites which has Sam squirming, growl gone high and breathy, hands clenching on Dean's shoulders and rubbing his cock wetly against Dean's belly, spine curving eagerly, until they can't take any more, until Sam is resettling his muscled thighs on either side of Dean and sliding himself onto Dean's cock, and Dean is sinking into hotwetslick giving way for him, at the same time that something hot and hard and slippery is rutting into him, angled just right, and he grunts and jerks his hips into it, up and back, pulling Sam's hips down into his crushingly. Spreads his legs into it, for it, bracing his heels to thrust up while Sam huffs and puffs above him, on him, head thrown back, hands gripped bruisingly tight around Dean's forearms, cock jerking hard and throbbing between his spread legs and spearing inside Dean at the same time. Dreams are fucking wonderful.
Sam's so wet inside, almost more like pussy than like lube tonight. Dean can feel slickness dripping down onto his balls, licks his lips and wonders if that's Sam's detail or his, wonders if it matters.
Sam moans when he starts coming, a weirdly human sound, head listing to one side while his thighs shudder and his ass clenches around Dean, come pattering onto Dean's chest and filling him up inside at the same time, just as he's filling Sam up, orgasm shuddering up out of his balls, dragged out of him by the crushing force of Sam coming across their mindlink, and for the instant that they're coming together they twitch and shudder into each other and the dream becomes a hotwetsogood sam dean fucking rutting slick sex skin against scale skin slippery trembling coming blur of both of them together before they come back down into their own skins, Sam slumped across Dean's chest, Dean tasting the musky dragon smell of Sam's hair.
Sometimes Dean has claws and tail and wings and fangs, fire burning in his chest and they chase each other through the bluegoldwhite skies of Sam's dreams, circling each other endlessly under the blazing sun until joy is all but sizzling under his scales and they finally collide into a thunder of graygreen scales on chestnut, still on the wing, tails tangling deliciously.
Most of the dragon-riders would be surprised by this kind of relationship among their ranks, probably. Would be revolted if they knew the real reason why Dean's stopped trying to sleep his way through Iileria, why Sam hasn't taken another dragon on wing in decades. Even Sam never quite had the nerve to ask if they were normal, if any other dragons and riders ever did this. They both know instinctively; this is not the way things are done.
But it's them.
... LOL?