To Each Their Own
Title: To Each Their Own
Series: The Charming Verse
Author: hunters_retreat
Fandom: Leverage/Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean/Eliot
Summary: This was just Dean on the job and some ghost nearly got him before Sam and Eliot could dig fast enough to salt and burn the grave.
Author's Note: Au where Eliot Spencer is a hunter and met up with the Winchesters through connections at the Roadhouse.
“What the hell was that?”
Dean sat up on the edge of the bed, scratch marks - of the good kind - down his back and a spattering of reddened flesh where Sam and Eliot had licked and sucked and bit until Dean was marked time and time again.
Dean wasn’t complaining but Sam knew his brother well enough to know why he was confused. This thing between them, it wasn’t simple. It had never been simple and it couldn’t be. They were brothers, partners in every sense of the word and they had been since before Sam was legally able to drive. Eliot, the third man in their bed was a hunter but he’d been a hitter before that, a street-wise conman with a physical prowess that most supernatural creatures would probably weep for.
No, it was never simple. Their dynamic was changing though. So much had been thrown at them in the last year. Eliot had become a full-time partner and not just some guy they picked-up whenever they were in neighboring states. Sam had finally made Dean stop looking at him like some slack-jawed kid and his brother had stopped blaming himself for letting Sam start this between them. They were all finding their footing again and while Sam enjoyed the sometimes softer side of his lovers that he was seeing, they all still needed the other parts too, where Sam dominated and Eliot and Dean submitted to him.
Tonight was neither. Tonight had been about Dean almost dying again and Sam and Eliot barely getting to him in time. It wasn’t even his brother’s fault. This wasn’t some stunt where he threw himself in front of someone else or used himself as bait without telling them. This was just Dean on the job and some ghost nearly got him before Sam and Eliot could dig fast enough to salt and burn the grave.
When they got back to the room, it was quick showers and cold beer, trying to let go of a nasty hunt. Right up until Dean stretched and groaned and Eliot was there to pull Dean’s shirt off and check the bruising. Sam watched, crouched down in front of Dean just because he needed to touch.
“Not even a bruise man,” Eliot had teased, though Sam knew there was a large patch of discolored skin that started right under his arm pit and extended to the front of his hip.
Sam had let out a shaky breath and tried to get his emotions in control. He hated seeing Dean hurt and he had never learned to live with someone else’s mark on his brother’s body.
Eliot had seemed to understand because he’d placed his lips against the top of Dean’s shoulder and worked his way over until Dean was relaxing under the soft ministrations. Eliot had looked at Sam, asked permission in ways that went straight to Sam’s cock, and he’d given it.
The power Sam had over these two men, the love he had, it was beyond anything he’d ever dreamt of. They were his subs, his to command, to mark and break and heal and put back together. They were powerful in their own rights though, not just for their submission to him. Eliot knew how Sam felt though and he had asked to put his own marks on Dean’s skin.
Sam had gripped Dean’s thighs tight as Eliot had sunk his teeth into Dean’s neck. Dean’s eyes closed and his breath had been short as he’d laughed. “Gonna get your ass handed to you for that, Eliot.”
Eliot hadn’t answer and Dean’s eyes had slid closed as he’d let Eliot mark him up. Sam hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d worked Dean’s jeans open and began pulling them off his hips. Eliot had looked up to see what Sam was doing and then they had Dean naked quickly.
Between them, they’d petted and marked and loved every inch of his body. Sam knew there were places in Dean’s soul that were still too dark for the light they wanted to bring him but in time he knew they would find a way. It was enough, tonight, to mark him and remind him of how cherished he was.
Dean had begged Sam to take him, to be dominated and fucked raw but Sam refused. This wasn’t about that which was why Dean was squirming so much for it. It was about love and fear and desperation and Dean had never been good at seeing how much he meant to people.
They had made love to Dean. Sam and Eliot, tuned into each other as they always were, had made Dean their priority. He had been fucked out and well sated before they finished.
The sated part ended after fifteen minutes when Dean pulled away from them both, threw on a pair of jeans and stared down the bed at them.
“Seriously, what the hell was that?”
Eliot looked at Sam for answers. No matter how well Eliot knew Dean, there was no one in the world who understood Dean the way Sam did and vice versa. Which was probably more the problem than the rest of it. Dean knew exactly what Sam had been doing.
“Dean, please just come back to bed.” Eliot tried.
Dean didn’t look at Eliot. Sam understood that too. Eliot was hard as they come, but when he wanted to show you something it was all in his eyes. Dean couldn’t look at Eliot and see what was there just yet.
“Dean, we almost lost you tonight.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t.”
Sam closed his eyes and tried to think of another way to play this that wouldn’t end with Dean running. They’d gotten through so much but it would take a long time before his brother could undo a lifetime of running from the things that got too close to his heart.
“So stop being an ass and come to bed.”
Sam looked up at the hard tone in Eliot’s voice. Dean had turned also but Eliot was glaring and Sam had never seen the other man look so ready to kick Dean’s ass. Considering he’d seen Eliot and Dean really fighting before that was saying something.
“What?”
“I get that you don’t want things to get too close but it’s a little late for that, don’t you think? We all know you aren’t running and even if you walk out that door right now you’ll just be back in the morning to make your sorry ass excuses and we’ll take you back. Sam might even make you talk about why you ran, which you hate and just makes you pissy for a couple hundred miles while you try to process the fact that no matter what you do, you went and fell in love and you’re stuck with us now. So shut the hell up, get undressed, and get your ass back to bed before I come over there and do it for you.”
Sam stared at Eliot for a few minutes before turning his eyes towards his brother. There was no reaction at all and Sam thought maybe Dean was having a stroke but then the corners of Dean’s lips pulled up into a smile and Dean honest to god threw his head back and laughed.
A quick look at Eliot showed a frown and a concerned glint in his eye but Sam turned his attention back to Dean when his brother pulled his jeans off. He was still laughing, his shoulders shaking with the effort to do it quietly but Dean’s sense of humor had always been strange and Sam wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Besides, just because Sam knew his brother best didn’t mean he was the only one that had learned to handle Dean’s sometimes mercurial moods. Eliot and Dean had been lovers on their own for some time with Sam only occasionally joining them before they’d become something steadier together.
When Dean slid back into the bed he curled up next to Eliot and allowed himself to be wrestled into the little spoon position before Sam settled down in front of him. Dean leaned in, setting his head on Sam’s shoulder as Eliot nestled in closer to Dean’s back and Dean finally let out a relieved sigh.
“Ready to sleep?” Sam asked, realizing that Dean had needed that last bit of fight to get rid of the hunt. Whatever horror Sam and Eliot had faced, Dean had his own fears that night and Dean never faced them gently.
“Yeah Sammy,” Dean answered sleepily.
“Gonna find some back road tomorrow and kick your ass tomorrow,” Eliot slurred as he let sleep drag him down as well.
“Gonna try,” was Dean’s final reply.
Sam bit back his laughter at the banter. He knew at some point the next day they’d do just that. Dean would pull them into some abandoned farm or a deserted park and the three of them would spar. They would all fight hard, bruises would form and blood would spill on the ground around them. Dean would get his bearings back and Eliot would be allowed to knit Dean and Sam back together with their first aid kit and refuse to let them look at his until they got a few hours down the road. In a week or so, Sam would have his turn. He’d get his boys on their knees and they’d beg and plead for Sam’s mercy and he might give it to them, depending on his mood.
Maybe not. Dean and Eliot always looked good begging.
Series: The Charming Verse
Author: hunters_retreat
Fandom: Leverage/Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean/Eliot
Summary: This was just Dean on the job and some ghost nearly got him before Sam and Eliot could dig fast enough to salt and burn the grave.
Author's Note: Au where Eliot Spencer is a hunter and met up with the Winchesters through connections at the Roadhouse.
“What the hell was that?”
Dean sat up on the edge of the bed, scratch marks - of the good kind - down his back and a spattering of reddened flesh where Sam and Eliot had licked and sucked and bit until Dean was marked time and time again.
Dean wasn’t complaining but Sam knew his brother well enough to know why he was confused. This thing between them, it wasn’t simple. It had never been simple and it couldn’t be. They were brothers, partners in every sense of the word and they had been since before Sam was legally able to drive. Eliot, the third man in their bed was a hunter but he’d been a hitter before that, a street-wise conman with a physical prowess that most supernatural creatures would probably weep for.
No, it was never simple. Their dynamic was changing though. So much had been thrown at them in the last year. Eliot had become a full-time partner and not just some guy they picked-up whenever they were in neighboring states. Sam had finally made Dean stop looking at him like some slack-jawed kid and his brother had stopped blaming himself for letting Sam start this between them. They were all finding their footing again and while Sam enjoyed the sometimes softer side of his lovers that he was seeing, they all still needed the other parts too, where Sam dominated and Eliot and Dean submitted to him.
Tonight was neither. Tonight had been about Dean almost dying again and Sam and Eliot barely getting to him in time. It wasn’t even his brother’s fault. This wasn’t some stunt where he threw himself in front of someone else or used himself as bait without telling them. This was just Dean on the job and some ghost nearly got him before Sam and Eliot could dig fast enough to salt and burn the grave.
When they got back to the room, it was quick showers and cold beer, trying to let go of a nasty hunt. Right up until Dean stretched and groaned and Eliot was there to pull Dean’s shirt off and check the bruising. Sam watched, crouched down in front of Dean just because he needed to touch.
“Not even a bruise man,” Eliot had teased, though Sam knew there was a large patch of discolored skin that started right under his arm pit and extended to the front of his hip.
Sam had let out a shaky breath and tried to get his emotions in control. He hated seeing Dean hurt and he had never learned to live with someone else’s mark on his brother’s body.
Eliot had seemed to understand because he’d placed his lips against the top of Dean’s shoulder and worked his way over until Dean was relaxing under the soft ministrations. Eliot had looked at Sam, asked permission in ways that went straight to Sam’s cock, and he’d given it.
The power Sam had over these two men, the love he had, it was beyond anything he’d ever dreamt of. They were his subs, his to command, to mark and break and heal and put back together. They were powerful in their own rights though, not just for their submission to him. Eliot knew how Sam felt though and he had asked to put his own marks on Dean’s skin.
Sam had gripped Dean’s thighs tight as Eliot had sunk his teeth into Dean’s neck. Dean’s eyes closed and his breath had been short as he’d laughed. “Gonna get your ass handed to you for that, Eliot.”
Eliot hadn’t answer and Dean’s eyes had slid closed as he’d let Eliot mark him up. Sam hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d worked Dean’s jeans open and began pulling them off his hips. Eliot had looked up to see what Sam was doing and then they had Dean naked quickly.
Between them, they’d petted and marked and loved every inch of his body. Sam knew there were places in Dean’s soul that were still too dark for the light they wanted to bring him but in time he knew they would find a way. It was enough, tonight, to mark him and remind him of how cherished he was.
Dean had begged Sam to take him, to be dominated and fucked raw but Sam refused. This wasn’t about that which was why Dean was squirming so much for it. It was about love and fear and desperation and Dean had never been good at seeing how much he meant to people.
They had made love to Dean. Sam and Eliot, tuned into each other as they always were, had made Dean their priority. He had been fucked out and well sated before they finished.
The sated part ended after fifteen minutes when Dean pulled away from them both, threw on a pair of jeans and stared down the bed at them.
“Seriously, what the hell was that?”
Eliot looked at Sam for answers. No matter how well Eliot knew Dean, there was no one in the world who understood Dean the way Sam did and vice versa. Which was probably more the problem than the rest of it. Dean knew exactly what Sam had been doing.
“Dean, please just come back to bed.” Eliot tried.
Dean didn’t look at Eliot. Sam understood that too. Eliot was hard as they come, but when he wanted to show you something it was all in his eyes. Dean couldn’t look at Eliot and see what was there just yet.
“Dean, we almost lost you tonight.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t.”
Sam closed his eyes and tried to think of another way to play this that wouldn’t end with Dean running. They’d gotten through so much but it would take a long time before his brother could undo a lifetime of running from the things that got too close to his heart.
“So stop being an ass and come to bed.”
Sam looked up at the hard tone in Eliot’s voice. Dean had turned also but Eliot was glaring and Sam had never seen the other man look so ready to kick Dean’s ass. Considering he’d seen Eliot and Dean really fighting before that was saying something.
“What?”
“I get that you don’t want things to get too close but it’s a little late for that, don’t you think? We all know you aren’t running and even if you walk out that door right now you’ll just be back in the morning to make your sorry ass excuses and we’ll take you back. Sam might even make you talk about why you ran, which you hate and just makes you pissy for a couple hundred miles while you try to process the fact that no matter what you do, you went and fell in love and you’re stuck with us now. So shut the hell up, get undressed, and get your ass back to bed before I come over there and do it for you.”
Sam stared at Eliot for a few minutes before turning his eyes towards his brother. There was no reaction at all and Sam thought maybe Dean was having a stroke but then the corners of Dean’s lips pulled up into a smile and Dean honest to god threw his head back and laughed.
A quick look at Eliot showed a frown and a concerned glint in his eye but Sam turned his attention back to Dean when his brother pulled his jeans off. He was still laughing, his shoulders shaking with the effort to do it quietly but Dean’s sense of humor had always been strange and Sam wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Besides, just because Sam knew his brother best didn’t mean he was the only one that had learned to handle Dean’s sometimes mercurial moods. Eliot and Dean had been lovers on their own for some time with Sam only occasionally joining them before they’d become something steadier together.
When Dean slid back into the bed he curled up next to Eliot and allowed himself to be wrestled into the little spoon position before Sam settled down in front of him. Dean leaned in, setting his head on Sam’s shoulder as Eliot nestled in closer to Dean’s back and Dean finally let out a relieved sigh.
“Ready to sleep?” Sam asked, realizing that Dean had needed that last bit of fight to get rid of the hunt. Whatever horror Sam and Eliot had faced, Dean had his own fears that night and Dean never faced them gently.
“Yeah Sammy,” Dean answered sleepily.
“Gonna find some back road tomorrow and kick your ass tomorrow,” Eliot slurred as he let sleep drag him down as well.
“Gonna try,” was Dean’s final reply.
Sam bit back his laughter at the banter. He knew at some point the next day they’d do just that. Dean would pull them into some abandoned farm or a deserted park and the three of them would spar. They would all fight hard, bruises would form and blood would spill on the ground around them. Dean would get his bearings back and Eliot would be allowed to knit Dean and Sam back together with their first aid kit and refuse to let them look at his until they got a few hours down the road. In a week or so, Sam would have his turn. He’d get his boys on their knees and they’d beg and plead for Sam’s mercy and he might give it to them, depending on his mood.
Maybe not. Dean and Eliot always looked good begging.