Supernatural: The Whisper of Temptation
Title: The Whisper of Temptation
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean/young!Mary
Genre: Smut
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit Sexual Content (including cross generational incest)
Word Count: 3,698
Author’s Note: Written as a birthday present for my beloved lavendergaia, who will hopefully like it *bites nails nervously*. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KELLYKINS. I think I’ve maybe reached a peak on how far my depravity goes, but then, every time I say that, it somehow gets worse. In grand lavendergaia fashion, I offer you threesome porn with no explanation as to how Mary got here-and it’s not even hot car porn to redeem it! I’M A WINNER. Title taken from an Earl Wilson quote. This also satisfies the anniversary square on my schmoop_bingo card.
Summary: Sam feels the itch-humming relentlessly, just under his skin-for a long time before he decides to scratch it.
Sam feels the itch-humming relentlessly, just under his skin-for a long time before he decides to scratch it.
There’s a lot about the situation that’s wrong. His mother, his dead mother, has been riding in the back seat of the Impala for weeks. She’s younger than he is. Sam has spent more time with her like this, as a fellow hunter, maybe even a friend, than he ever got with her as a mom. She tells him, sometimes, to fold his clothes before bed, she lectures Dean about driving too fast. Sam gets little shocks every time he remembers who and what she’s supposed to be to him.
The most screwed up thing about the entire scenario is that those are the only times he realizes this isn’t how it’s supposed to be; he isn’t supposed to be having the thoughts he’s having. He wants her, wants to know her better than he does, wants to touch every inch of her so he can be sure she’s real, so he can remember what she feels like when she disappears. Sam waits on edge for it to happen, because this just isn’t his kind of luck. If she can just show up one day, a gift neither of them could ever have hoped to ask for, she’ll be gone just as easily.
***
Sam’s eyes meet Mary’s in the rearview mirror. She’s watching him, unblinking, and Sam knows she can guess what he’s thinking. She’s thinking it, too. They all are. He licks his lips and looks over to Dean. His brother’s watching the road, pretending to be oblivious to the whole mess. He’s got one hand resting loosely on the wheel, the other is curled into a tight fist, the way he always holds it when he hasn’t been laid and is getting antsy. Sam has to wonder if it’s started cramping yet-Dean’s been doing it a lot lately.
A month ago, Sam would have had his mouth on his brother by now. Instead, he sits pressed into the window, as far from Dean as he can manage. Dean doesn’t want Mary to know what they do, seems to be under the impression that she didn’t figure it out the first time they met her, back when they were still dodging angels and spontaneously traveling through time-be it backwards or forwards-was the least of their worries. Dean still acts like she’s something ethereal, too perfect to be tangible, and looks like a child when he talks to her. It shouldn’t turn Sam on so much that there’s something dark tainting that lately. The way Dean watches her when he thinks she’s not paying attention makes Sam feel like he’s going through puberty all over again.
Sam doesn’t know why Dean even bothers with the theatrics of looking away at this point. Mary is observant, even for a hunter, and Dean is being deliberately obtuse. That doesn’t change the fact that all three of them are living in some weird Dean-imposed celibacy, just when Sam really doesn’t need any more reasons to be frustrated.
It’s hard enough to act like he doesn’t want Mary when he’s not living like a priest. Keeping his hands to himself around Dean for this long is not something he’s ever been good at. It makes him think of times they didn’t trust each other, times they were hiding from Dad, times Sam doesn’t particularly want to think about.
He’s maybe not in his right mind when he decides he doesn’t have a good reason for them to put up such a fight, it dawns on him that he doesn’t particularly want one. Sam wants Mary and Sam wants Dean to get Mary and Sam is fairly sure Mary feels the same way, which is all that matters in his book.
They pull over for the night; the motel is the kind of trash that used to be every day for them. Dean hasn’t been stopping in places like this since Mary showed up, has been determined to pretend their lives were something closer to what she’d be okay with, but Sam knows their pockets are running thin, and Dean no longer has a choice.
“It’ll do for a night,” Dean says, putting on an air of distaste.
The man at the desk rolls his eyes when they request a room with three beds, informs them that it’s not the Ritz: they can have three separate rooms or someone can share.
“Sam and I will,” Dean says when they’re in the room, dropping all their bags into a corner. “We used to all the time when we were kids.”
It’s not really lying, Sam will give him that, but it leaves out the part where they never really stopped. Mary nods and Sam can’t help it-he smiles. He has no intention of letting Dean sleep half a bed over and not getting any family bonding time in.
Mary’s pretending she’s asleep by the time Dean gets into bed behind Sam. He presses his hand briefly against the fabric of Sam’s shirt, Sam’s back burns hot where Dean’s touching him. He turns, capturing his brother’s lips in a kiss before Dean knows what’s hit him.
Dean returns it easily, even if he makes an effort to swallow his moans, and Sam wastes no time getting overeager, kissing harder and licking deeper into his brother. It’s not until he tries to get his hands on Dean’s dick that his brother shoves him away.
“Dude, our mom is right there,” he says, haughty and out of breath.
Sam smiles. “She’s sleeping,” he replies, knowing full-well it’s not true.
“Doesn’t matter. We can’t-I mean, you wouldn’t try that with Dad in the room, would you?”
“It’s different.” Sam presses forward again, hoping to silence Dean’s protest with a few persuasive touches.
Dean refuses to be silenced. “How is it different?”
Sam laughs, hot and low, and doesn’t indulge Dean with an answer. “You’re gonna suck me, Dean,” he says, loud enough for his voice to carry, but enough of a whisper for it not to be obvious that he wants Mary to know-just in case she’s still wondering what exactly goes on between him and Dean.
Dean moans, covers his mouth with the back of his hand as quickly as he can, but it’s too late to catch all of it. Sam’s fingers find the top of Dean’s boxers and he moves under them slowly, wrapping around Dean. Dean’s hips immediately thrust forward and Sam begins to stroke.
“Right, Dean? You want that, don’t you?”
Dean gasps, his fingers dig into Sam’s hips as Sam continues to work him. “Fuck, you know I do.”
When Dean comes, he doesn’t waste any time burrowing under the covers to do as Sam asked, like having Sam jerk him off was some tedious prerequisite to the real fun. Sam’s got Dean’s big lips wrapped around him in seconds. He turns his head to the side and sees the same lips parted, breathing hard, from the other bed. Sam watches Mary’s hand moving under the covers, their eyes meet, and Sam’s head falls back. He mouths his mother’s name as he pushes his brother’s head down the shaft of his cock. Unsurprisingly, neither Sam nor Mary lasts particularly long.
She gasps softly, like she’s surprised, when she comes, and all the confidence that had been in her eyes fades. She looks at Sam with a sorry expression and has her back turned to them by the time Dean’s head reemerges from under the blankets. Sam’s still pretty fucking frustrated when they wake up the next morning.
That night, he fucks Dean right out in the open, hard, with his brother on all fours. There’s a street light outside the window and Sam knows Mary can see everything.
It becomes an unspoken agreement between them. As long as neither of them admits they know what they’re up to, it doesn’t seem as fucked up as they both know it is. But it’s still not enough and all Sam wants is to push it further, make what they all want to happen come true.
***
“You know, it’s been a month since I got here,” Mary says one day, completely out of the blue. Sam lifts his head. He’s been researching the spirit they’re hunting while Dean is out buying some things for the car, and it feels so much like it always has that he’d honestly forgotten she was there.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Exactly one month.” She bites her lip. “Kind of thought I’d be home by now.”
Sam considers apologizing. He shakes the hair out of his face and smiles-as far as avoiding the problem goes, Dean would be proud. “We should celebrate. It’s our anniversary, right?”
“I guess,” Mary replies, amused.
Sam stands and sits next to her on the bed. She looks at him, Sam can see her begging for something without being sure it’s what he wants it to be.
“Sam,” she says, after a long silence. He reaches out, hand shaking, and places it high on the inside of her thigh. She closes her eyes.
“We really should.” Sam leans closer, whispers into her ear, “Celebrate, I mean.”
“I want you to,” she says, all in one breath. She takes his hand, tangles her fingers in his. Her hand is tiny, warm, nothing like holding Dean’s, except for the maternal way her fingers wrap around his. She draws his face closer with her other hand and kisses him. “I want you to…I mean, you know.”
Sam nods into the kiss. “I want that, too.”
She lets out a sigh of relief. “Fuck me,” she begs.
Sam lays her back on the bed, they both move slowly. She looks up at him-nervous, like the virgin Sam knows she hasn’t been for years-as she fumbles with the buttons on her blouse. Sam just watches until she’s got it open, and then he pushes her hands out of the way. She’s wearing a white bra-not particularly racy, but Sam’s dick immediately starts paying attention.
He kisses her neck while his hands unhook it and then he pulls away to look at her again. She reaches out, touches his face gently, encouraging. Sam wonders what Dean would do if he caught them like this, if he would get mad-at the cheating or the fact that Sam’s about to fuck their mom, Sam doesn’t know where he’d even begin-or if he would let himself watch, even get involved. Sam should probably stop, acknowledge that he’s betraying his brother in the kind of way he swore he never would again, but at this point, he can’t.
“Come on, baby,” Mary says. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”
Sam moves forward, closes his mouth on the tip of her breast. Her nipples harden as his tongue flicks them. He thinks of Dean as he does it, of how one day, this is going to keep his brother alive, nurse him into the man Sam can’t fathom life without. He sucks and kisses and hopes he’ll leave something behind, that Dean will taste Sam when he drinks from her, wonders if he already has. It would explain why Dean has always loved him the way he does, why Dean could never stop no matter how many reasons Sam gave him. And thinking this, that Dean was fed that drive to protect his little brother before Sam was even alive, makes Sam’s mouth even greedier. He tries to leave behind as much as he can, isn’t above forcing his brother to need him.
Mary holds his face to her chest as he moves from one breast to the other, strokes her fingers into his hair soothingly. It should make Sam feel dirty, but he doesn’t-he feels safe and adored and he wants more.
When he finally lifts his mouth from her, Mary sits up and yanks the open blouse that had been sitting around her shoulders away. Sam meets her lips in another kiss. She reaches for his jeans and he does the same to hers, the kiss is confused and sloppy-they’re both focusing more on getting undressed, but neither of them moves to break contact.
Sam doesn’t ask if Mary’s sure about this before he pushes two fingers into her and begins to work her open. She’s already wet for him, arches her hips up to meet him and, when Sam massages her clit, she stops his hands and tells him to just fuck her already.
It’s at this point that Sam suddenly remembers they need protection; he curses loudly and rolls out of bed, grabbing a condom from the first bag he runs across. Once he finally gets inside of her, it’s not much longer before Sam comes and pulls out of her. He sits up in bed, trying his hardest to feel some kind of shame. The bed shifts as Mary sits up, too, and then there are lips pressing against his shoulder.
“Do you hate me yet?” Sam asks.
“It wasn’t just you, if you’ll recall.” Mary laughs, but her face sobers when Sam turns to look at her. She reaches out and pushes sweat-drenched hair out of his face, cradles it in her palm and looks at him warmly. “I love you, always will.”
“Dean would hate me. If he knew about this.”
“Dean would understand.”
“Yeah,” Sam agrees, rising from bed and beginning to dress. “He hates himself, too.”
Sam turns to face Mary and sees her cross her arms over her chest and pout slightly. She knows what needs to be done just as much as Sam does and a determined “that just won’t do” hangs in the air between them. It doesn’t need to be vocalized.
They take turns showering, Dean gets back before Sam’s out. He doesn’t miss what a close call they had-he’s not even sure if he’s sorry Dean didn’t catch them, or if it would at least be better than the sick, guilty feeling of keeping a secret from him. Dean probably wants Mary more than Sam does, but he never would have done what Sam did today. Sam is, as usual, painfully aware of the differences between himself and his brother.
Mary smiles at him casually when he joins them, Dean is talking about the hunt, and neither of them seems to be entirely paying attention. Dean’s eyes dart down, then back up too quickly, whenever he looks at Mary. She smirks, subtly leaning forward, exposing more of herself. Dean swallows hard, trying to direct his eyes away from her chest; Sam does, too, remembering what it’d been like to do everything Dean is thinking.
“I think I’ll go get dinner tonight, boys,” she says, standing and giving Sam a look like he’d better know what she’s expecting him to do. Sam smirks and nods, watching her leave appreciatively.
The door hardly closes behind her before Sam is sitting next to Dean on their bed, fussing with the top button on his jeans.
“A little excited there, Sammy?” Dean asks, lifting his hips and spreading his legs, a clear invitation. Sam tugs the pants down as fast as he can and grabs his brother’s cock. Dean lets his head fall back as Sam begins to jack him, fast and hungry.
“Shit, that’s nice, Sam.”
Sam lines his lips against the shell of Dean’s ear and licks. “What are you thinking about, Dean?”
“You,” Dean answers, like it’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard.
“You know what I’d be thinking about?”
“Hmm?”
“Mary.”
Dean’s eyes fly open. He takes hold of Sam’s hand, pushing it away.
“What are you thinking, man? Come on.”
“Same thing you’re thinking. I’m just not too chicken-shit to admit it.”
Dean shakes his head. “No. You’re wrong. I don’t-you don’t want that, Sam. You’re just confused.”
Sam snickers. “Like when I was sixteen and you tried to convince me I didn’t really want you to fuck me, right?”
“This is…different. She’s our mom.”
“I know. And…we need one.”
“Not like that. Nobody does that, Sam. We can’t-”
“I did it.”
“What?”
“I did it. I fucked her.”
Dean shakes his head.
“While you were out today,” he adds, reaching out to touch Dean again. The fight has left his brother, and he doesn’t pull back.
“She let you?”
“She wanted it. Dean, she wants us, too.”
Sam begins to move on Dean’s cock again and Dean meets his eyes, looking ashamed, but unable to resist asking the question, “What was it like?”
Sam’s lips curl up as he whispers to his brother, all the things their mom let him do to her.
***
When Mary goes out to get dinner, it generally means she’s going to buy the closest thing to a real meal she can make for them in whatever shitty room they’re staying in for the night. She comes home with a roasted chicken and some spices and somehow manages to make the generic store brand taste gourmet.
Sam helps Mary clean up and, when the last of the paper plates is being pushed in the trash, he turns and takes her face between his hands. He kisses her, she gasps and pulls away, facing Dean. He’s sitting at the table watching them, his eyes are so dark it’s almost demonic.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Dean says, still watching them hotly. “It’s okay that you want him.”
Dean stands, puts a hand on her shoulder soothingly, pushing her forward, closer to Sam. Sam leans past his mother, kissing Dean over her shoulder until he feels her lips at his neck. His hands cup her breasts and he curses the layers of clothing she’s got on. He pulls away then, turning her to face Dean.
“Go on, Mary,” he whispers. “He’ll take good care of you.”
She kisses Dean then and Dean, Sam notes triumphantly, doesn’t bother putting up any fight at all. He kisses her back, so damn soft it breaks Sam’s heart.
She pulls away after a bit and Sam gets a look at Dean’s face. He’s close to tears, Sam’s stomach tightens and he can’t resist pulling Dean in for yet another kiss. Mary clears her throat and they break apart, turning to face her.
“Bedtime, boys,” she says, tone teasing. It’s a pretty dirty thing to make a joke out of, but Sam laughs anyway, grabs both of their hands as he moves towards the beds.
He steps away from them once he’s led them to the mattress. Dean takes the hint, has Mary undressed in less than a minute. He pushes her down then, laying her against the pillows with enough care to keep a butterfly’s wing from tearing.
He kisses down her body, taking his time, worshiping Mary, like Dean was born to do. She’s sweet and encouraging and the two of them are so beautiful, Sam feels like he might not belong.
Mary reaches out to him, though, and Sam crawls on to the bed, sinking into her out-stretched arms. Sam’s lips meet Mary’s just as Dean’s tongue begins to lick into her cunt. Dean doesn’t hear the moans Sam swallows, but he rests a hand on his brother’s head, fingers digging into him when he makes Mary cry out. Dean gets Sam’s messages loud and clear.
As she gets closer to her climax, her hands get more desperate. She tries to open Sam’s shirt, gets frustrated with the buttons, and just sticks her hands up it, fingers roving over his chest under the fabric instead. Sam gets his own jeans open then, he has every intention of working himself until he comes with Mary, but she takes over the situation as soon as Sam’s got his dick out. Sam is left with nothing for his free hand to do except grip the sheets for dear life. He ends up coming before her, and when he’s done, Dean lifts his head.
“Good, Sammy?”
“Yeah, Dean. So good. You should feel it for yourself.” Sam smiles at Mary, who doesn’t quite know what he’s getting at, but seems to be up for just about anything at this point.
“You want him to feel how wet you are, don’t you? You want him to fuck you like I did?”
Dean and Mary both let out groans and Sam can hardly get the condom to them fast enough. Dean’s already got his pants around his ankles and is hovering over Mary when Sam returns to the bed with one, he settles it on Dean as fast as he can and watches as Dean finally, for once in his life, gets everything he deserves.
Dean is good to Mary, has fucked more girls than Sam wants to think about, and she’s already so close from having him eating her out that she comes almost as soon as he’s all the way inside of her. Dean ignores this, goes on rolling his hips for her-Sam’s not surprised when she comes all over again. He watches with fascination from behind his brother’s back, touching Dean with his hands and his lips whenever the desire to do so strikes him.
When Dean finally finishes, he falls to the side exhausted and closes his eyes. A smile plays at the edges of his lips: it’s hard to spot, but it’s real, which is more than can be said for most of Dean’s smiles. It makes Sam smile, too, and he leans in to taste it without even thinking.
Deans curls onto his side in response, waits for Sam to take him up in his arms, like he has for the past ten years. Sam looks back to Mary to make sure she’s okay with it and she nods, her hands push Sam into place lovingly. He closes his eyes and breathes his brother in, and then he hears a soft voice begin to hum-“Hey Jude,” just like Dean had always promised it would. Sam has never heard a lullaby before, he falls asleep happier than he can ever remember being.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean/young!Mary
Genre: Smut
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit Sexual Content (including cross generational incest)
Word Count: 3,698
Author’s Note: Written as a birthday present for my beloved lavendergaia, who will hopefully like it *bites nails nervously*. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KELLYKINS. I think I’ve maybe reached a peak on how far my depravity goes, but then, every time I say that, it somehow gets worse. In grand lavendergaia fashion, I offer you threesome porn with no explanation as to how Mary got here-and it’s not even hot car porn to redeem it! I’M A WINNER. Title taken from an Earl Wilson quote. This also satisfies the anniversary square on my schmoop_bingo card.
Summary: Sam feels the itch-humming relentlessly, just under his skin-for a long time before he decides to scratch it.
Sam feels the itch-humming relentlessly, just under his skin-for a long time before he decides to scratch it.
There’s a lot about the situation that’s wrong. His mother, his dead mother, has been riding in the back seat of the Impala for weeks. She’s younger than he is. Sam has spent more time with her like this, as a fellow hunter, maybe even a friend, than he ever got with her as a mom. She tells him, sometimes, to fold his clothes before bed, she lectures Dean about driving too fast. Sam gets little shocks every time he remembers who and what she’s supposed to be to him.
The most screwed up thing about the entire scenario is that those are the only times he realizes this isn’t how it’s supposed to be; he isn’t supposed to be having the thoughts he’s having. He wants her, wants to know her better than he does, wants to touch every inch of her so he can be sure she’s real, so he can remember what she feels like when she disappears. Sam waits on edge for it to happen, because this just isn’t his kind of luck. If she can just show up one day, a gift neither of them could ever have hoped to ask for, she’ll be gone just as easily.
***
Sam’s eyes meet Mary’s in the rearview mirror. She’s watching him, unblinking, and Sam knows she can guess what he’s thinking. She’s thinking it, too. They all are. He licks his lips and looks over to Dean. His brother’s watching the road, pretending to be oblivious to the whole mess. He’s got one hand resting loosely on the wheel, the other is curled into a tight fist, the way he always holds it when he hasn’t been laid and is getting antsy. Sam has to wonder if it’s started cramping yet-Dean’s been doing it a lot lately.
A month ago, Sam would have had his mouth on his brother by now. Instead, he sits pressed into the window, as far from Dean as he can manage. Dean doesn’t want Mary to know what they do, seems to be under the impression that she didn’t figure it out the first time they met her, back when they were still dodging angels and spontaneously traveling through time-be it backwards or forwards-was the least of their worries. Dean still acts like she’s something ethereal, too perfect to be tangible, and looks like a child when he talks to her. It shouldn’t turn Sam on so much that there’s something dark tainting that lately. The way Dean watches her when he thinks she’s not paying attention makes Sam feel like he’s going through puberty all over again.
Sam doesn’t know why Dean even bothers with the theatrics of looking away at this point. Mary is observant, even for a hunter, and Dean is being deliberately obtuse. That doesn’t change the fact that all three of them are living in some weird Dean-imposed celibacy, just when Sam really doesn’t need any more reasons to be frustrated.
It’s hard enough to act like he doesn’t want Mary when he’s not living like a priest. Keeping his hands to himself around Dean for this long is not something he’s ever been good at. It makes him think of times they didn’t trust each other, times they were hiding from Dad, times Sam doesn’t particularly want to think about.
He’s maybe not in his right mind when he decides he doesn’t have a good reason for them to put up such a fight, it dawns on him that he doesn’t particularly want one. Sam wants Mary and Sam wants Dean to get Mary and Sam is fairly sure Mary feels the same way, which is all that matters in his book.
They pull over for the night; the motel is the kind of trash that used to be every day for them. Dean hasn’t been stopping in places like this since Mary showed up, has been determined to pretend their lives were something closer to what she’d be okay with, but Sam knows their pockets are running thin, and Dean no longer has a choice.
“It’ll do for a night,” Dean says, putting on an air of distaste.
The man at the desk rolls his eyes when they request a room with three beds, informs them that it’s not the Ritz: they can have three separate rooms or someone can share.
“Sam and I will,” Dean says when they’re in the room, dropping all their bags into a corner. “We used to all the time when we were kids.”
It’s not really lying, Sam will give him that, but it leaves out the part where they never really stopped. Mary nods and Sam can’t help it-he smiles. He has no intention of letting Dean sleep half a bed over and not getting any family bonding time in.
Mary’s pretending she’s asleep by the time Dean gets into bed behind Sam. He presses his hand briefly against the fabric of Sam’s shirt, Sam’s back burns hot where Dean’s touching him. He turns, capturing his brother’s lips in a kiss before Dean knows what’s hit him.
Dean returns it easily, even if he makes an effort to swallow his moans, and Sam wastes no time getting overeager, kissing harder and licking deeper into his brother. It’s not until he tries to get his hands on Dean’s dick that his brother shoves him away.
“Dude, our mom is right there,” he says, haughty and out of breath.
Sam smiles. “She’s sleeping,” he replies, knowing full-well it’s not true.
“Doesn’t matter. We can’t-I mean, you wouldn’t try that with Dad in the room, would you?”
“It’s different.” Sam presses forward again, hoping to silence Dean’s protest with a few persuasive touches.
Dean refuses to be silenced. “How is it different?”
Sam laughs, hot and low, and doesn’t indulge Dean with an answer. “You’re gonna suck me, Dean,” he says, loud enough for his voice to carry, but enough of a whisper for it not to be obvious that he wants Mary to know-just in case she’s still wondering what exactly goes on between him and Dean.
Dean moans, covers his mouth with the back of his hand as quickly as he can, but it’s too late to catch all of it. Sam’s fingers find the top of Dean’s boxers and he moves under them slowly, wrapping around Dean. Dean’s hips immediately thrust forward and Sam begins to stroke.
“Right, Dean? You want that, don’t you?”
Dean gasps, his fingers dig into Sam’s hips as Sam continues to work him. “Fuck, you know I do.”
When Dean comes, he doesn’t waste any time burrowing under the covers to do as Sam asked, like having Sam jerk him off was some tedious prerequisite to the real fun. Sam’s got Dean’s big lips wrapped around him in seconds. He turns his head to the side and sees the same lips parted, breathing hard, from the other bed. Sam watches Mary’s hand moving under the covers, their eyes meet, and Sam’s head falls back. He mouths his mother’s name as he pushes his brother’s head down the shaft of his cock. Unsurprisingly, neither Sam nor Mary lasts particularly long.
She gasps softly, like she’s surprised, when she comes, and all the confidence that had been in her eyes fades. She looks at Sam with a sorry expression and has her back turned to them by the time Dean’s head reemerges from under the blankets. Sam’s still pretty fucking frustrated when they wake up the next morning.
That night, he fucks Dean right out in the open, hard, with his brother on all fours. There’s a street light outside the window and Sam knows Mary can see everything.
It becomes an unspoken agreement between them. As long as neither of them admits they know what they’re up to, it doesn’t seem as fucked up as they both know it is. But it’s still not enough and all Sam wants is to push it further, make what they all want to happen come true.
***
“You know, it’s been a month since I got here,” Mary says one day, completely out of the blue. Sam lifts his head. He’s been researching the spirit they’re hunting while Dean is out buying some things for the car, and it feels so much like it always has that he’d honestly forgotten she was there.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Exactly one month.” She bites her lip. “Kind of thought I’d be home by now.”
Sam considers apologizing. He shakes the hair out of his face and smiles-as far as avoiding the problem goes, Dean would be proud. “We should celebrate. It’s our anniversary, right?”
“I guess,” Mary replies, amused.
Sam stands and sits next to her on the bed. She looks at him, Sam can see her begging for something without being sure it’s what he wants it to be.
“Sam,” she says, after a long silence. He reaches out, hand shaking, and places it high on the inside of her thigh. She closes her eyes.
“We really should.” Sam leans closer, whispers into her ear, “Celebrate, I mean.”
“I want you to,” she says, all in one breath. She takes his hand, tangles her fingers in his. Her hand is tiny, warm, nothing like holding Dean’s, except for the maternal way her fingers wrap around his. She draws his face closer with her other hand and kisses him. “I want you to…I mean, you know.”
Sam nods into the kiss. “I want that, too.”
She lets out a sigh of relief. “Fuck me,” she begs.
Sam lays her back on the bed, they both move slowly. She looks up at him-nervous, like the virgin Sam knows she hasn’t been for years-as she fumbles with the buttons on her blouse. Sam just watches until she’s got it open, and then he pushes her hands out of the way. She’s wearing a white bra-not particularly racy, but Sam’s dick immediately starts paying attention.
He kisses her neck while his hands unhook it and then he pulls away to look at her again. She reaches out, touches his face gently, encouraging. Sam wonders what Dean would do if he caught them like this, if he would get mad-at the cheating or the fact that Sam’s about to fuck their mom, Sam doesn’t know where he’d even begin-or if he would let himself watch, even get involved. Sam should probably stop, acknowledge that he’s betraying his brother in the kind of way he swore he never would again, but at this point, he can’t.
“Come on, baby,” Mary says. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”
Sam moves forward, closes his mouth on the tip of her breast. Her nipples harden as his tongue flicks them. He thinks of Dean as he does it, of how one day, this is going to keep his brother alive, nurse him into the man Sam can’t fathom life without. He sucks and kisses and hopes he’ll leave something behind, that Dean will taste Sam when he drinks from her, wonders if he already has. It would explain why Dean has always loved him the way he does, why Dean could never stop no matter how many reasons Sam gave him. And thinking this, that Dean was fed that drive to protect his little brother before Sam was even alive, makes Sam’s mouth even greedier. He tries to leave behind as much as he can, isn’t above forcing his brother to need him.
Mary holds his face to her chest as he moves from one breast to the other, strokes her fingers into his hair soothingly. It should make Sam feel dirty, but he doesn’t-he feels safe and adored and he wants more.
When he finally lifts his mouth from her, Mary sits up and yanks the open blouse that had been sitting around her shoulders away. Sam meets her lips in another kiss. She reaches for his jeans and he does the same to hers, the kiss is confused and sloppy-they’re both focusing more on getting undressed, but neither of them moves to break contact.
Sam doesn’t ask if Mary’s sure about this before he pushes two fingers into her and begins to work her open. She’s already wet for him, arches her hips up to meet him and, when Sam massages her clit, she stops his hands and tells him to just fuck her already.
It’s at this point that Sam suddenly remembers they need protection; he curses loudly and rolls out of bed, grabbing a condom from the first bag he runs across. Once he finally gets inside of her, it’s not much longer before Sam comes and pulls out of her. He sits up in bed, trying his hardest to feel some kind of shame. The bed shifts as Mary sits up, too, and then there are lips pressing against his shoulder.
“Do you hate me yet?” Sam asks.
“It wasn’t just you, if you’ll recall.” Mary laughs, but her face sobers when Sam turns to look at her. She reaches out and pushes sweat-drenched hair out of his face, cradles it in her palm and looks at him warmly. “I love you, always will.”
“Dean would hate me. If he knew about this.”
“Dean would understand.”
“Yeah,” Sam agrees, rising from bed and beginning to dress. “He hates himself, too.”
Sam turns to face Mary and sees her cross her arms over her chest and pout slightly. She knows what needs to be done just as much as Sam does and a determined “that just won’t do” hangs in the air between them. It doesn’t need to be vocalized.
They take turns showering, Dean gets back before Sam’s out. He doesn’t miss what a close call they had-he’s not even sure if he’s sorry Dean didn’t catch them, or if it would at least be better than the sick, guilty feeling of keeping a secret from him. Dean probably wants Mary more than Sam does, but he never would have done what Sam did today. Sam is, as usual, painfully aware of the differences between himself and his brother.
Mary smiles at him casually when he joins them, Dean is talking about the hunt, and neither of them seems to be entirely paying attention. Dean’s eyes dart down, then back up too quickly, whenever he looks at Mary. She smirks, subtly leaning forward, exposing more of herself. Dean swallows hard, trying to direct his eyes away from her chest; Sam does, too, remembering what it’d been like to do everything Dean is thinking.
“I think I’ll go get dinner tonight, boys,” she says, standing and giving Sam a look like he’d better know what she’s expecting him to do. Sam smirks and nods, watching her leave appreciatively.
The door hardly closes behind her before Sam is sitting next to Dean on their bed, fussing with the top button on his jeans.
“A little excited there, Sammy?” Dean asks, lifting his hips and spreading his legs, a clear invitation. Sam tugs the pants down as fast as he can and grabs his brother’s cock. Dean lets his head fall back as Sam begins to jack him, fast and hungry.
“Shit, that’s nice, Sam.”
Sam lines his lips against the shell of Dean’s ear and licks. “What are you thinking about, Dean?”
“You,” Dean answers, like it’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard.
“You know what I’d be thinking about?”
“Hmm?”
“Mary.”
Dean’s eyes fly open. He takes hold of Sam’s hand, pushing it away.
“What are you thinking, man? Come on.”
“Same thing you’re thinking. I’m just not too chicken-shit to admit it.”
Dean shakes his head. “No. You’re wrong. I don’t-you don’t want that, Sam. You’re just confused.”
Sam snickers. “Like when I was sixteen and you tried to convince me I didn’t really want you to fuck me, right?”
“This is…different. She’s our mom.”
“I know. And…we need one.”
“Not like that. Nobody does that, Sam. We can’t-”
“I did it.”
“What?”
“I did it. I fucked her.”
Dean shakes his head.
“While you were out today,” he adds, reaching out to touch Dean again. The fight has left his brother, and he doesn’t pull back.
“She let you?”
“She wanted it. Dean, she wants us, too.”
Sam begins to move on Dean’s cock again and Dean meets his eyes, looking ashamed, but unable to resist asking the question, “What was it like?”
Sam’s lips curl up as he whispers to his brother, all the things their mom let him do to her.
***
When Mary goes out to get dinner, it generally means she’s going to buy the closest thing to a real meal she can make for them in whatever shitty room they’re staying in for the night. She comes home with a roasted chicken and some spices and somehow manages to make the generic store brand taste gourmet.
Sam helps Mary clean up and, when the last of the paper plates is being pushed in the trash, he turns and takes her face between his hands. He kisses her, she gasps and pulls away, facing Dean. He’s sitting at the table watching them, his eyes are so dark it’s almost demonic.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Dean says, still watching them hotly. “It’s okay that you want him.”
Dean stands, puts a hand on her shoulder soothingly, pushing her forward, closer to Sam. Sam leans past his mother, kissing Dean over her shoulder until he feels her lips at his neck. His hands cup her breasts and he curses the layers of clothing she’s got on. He pulls away then, turning her to face Dean.
“Go on, Mary,” he whispers. “He’ll take good care of you.”
She kisses Dean then and Dean, Sam notes triumphantly, doesn’t bother putting up any fight at all. He kisses her back, so damn soft it breaks Sam’s heart.
She pulls away after a bit and Sam gets a look at Dean’s face. He’s close to tears, Sam’s stomach tightens and he can’t resist pulling Dean in for yet another kiss. Mary clears her throat and they break apart, turning to face her.
“Bedtime, boys,” she says, tone teasing. It’s a pretty dirty thing to make a joke out of, but Sam laughs anyway, grabs both of their hands as he moves towards the beds.
He steps away from them once he’s led them to the mattress. Dean takes the hint, has Mary undressed in less than a minute. He pushes her down then, laying her against the pillows with enough care to keep a butterfly’s wing from tearing.
He kisses down her body, taking his time, worshiping Mary, like Dean was born to do. She’s sweet and encouraging and the two of them are so beautiful, Sam feels like he might not belong.
Mary reaches out to him, though, and Sam crawls on to the bed, sinking into her out-stretched arms. Sam’s lips meet Mary’s just as Dean’s tongue begins to lick into her cunt. Dean doesn’t hear the moans Sam swallows, but he rests a hand on his brother’s head, fingers digging into him when he makes Mary cry out. Dean gets Sam’s messages loud and clear.
As she gets closer to her climax, her hands get more desperate. She tries to open Sam’s shirt, gets frustrated with the buttons, and just sticks her hands up it, fingers roving over his chest under the fabric instead. Sam gets his own jeans open then, he has every intention of working himself until he comes with Mary, but she takes over the situation as soon as Sam’s got his dick out. Sam is left with nothing for his free hand to do except grip the sheets for dear life. He ends up coming before her, and when he’s done, Dean lifts his head.
“Good, Sammy?”
“Yeah, Dean. So good. You should feel it for yourself.” Sam smiles at Mary, who doesn’t quite know what he’s getting at, but seems to be up for just about anything at this point.
“You want him to feel how wet you are, don’t you? You want him to fuck you like I did?”
Dean and Mary both let out groans and Sam can hardly get the condom to them fast enough. Dean’s already got his pants around his ankles and is hovering over Mary when Sam returns to the bed with one, he settles it on Dean as fast as he can and watches as Dean finally, for once in his life, gets everything he deserves.
Dean is good to Mary, has fucked more girls than Sam wants to think about, and she’s already so close from having him eating her out that she comes almost as soon as he’s all the way inside of her. Dean ignores this, goes on rolling his hips for her-Sam’s not surprised when she comes all over again. He watches with fascination from behind his brother’s back, touching Dean with his hands and his lips whenever the desire to do so strikes him.
When Dean finally finishes, he falls to the side exhausted and closes his eyes. A smile plays at the edges of his lips: it’s hard to spot, but it’s real, which is more than can be said for most of Dean’s smiles. It makes Sam smile, too, and he leans in to taste it without even thinking.
Deans curls onto his side in response, waits for Sam to take him up in his arms, like he has for the past ten years. Sam looks back to Mary to make sure she’s okay with it and she nods, her hands push Sam into place lovingly. He closes his eyes and breathes his brother in, and then he hears a soft voice begin to hum-“Hey Jude,” just like Dean had always promised it would. Sam has never heard a lullaby before, he falls asleep happier than he can ever remember being.