Supernatural FIC: The Rules Remain a Mystery
Title: The Rules Remain a Mystery
Author: Joyfulgirl41
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: 18+
Date: Jan 2006
Summary: Another town, another job, and as it turns out, Dean needs Sam's help.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them, no matter how hard I wish I did. So sad for me.
Notes: Okay, long notes this time. I started this story forever ago, and finally found the motivation to finish it. Much thanks to autumnyte for audiencing early on. To stone_princess as always, for audiencing, betaing, encouraging, and generally going above and beyond in being utterly fabulous. And to estrella30 for being so totally awesome as to come through with a fantastic and speedy beta on, like, no notice. For Super Porn Sunday, of course. Go team porn! *loves*
Title borrowed from Absolutely Zero by Jason Mraz, with apologies.
And because it apparently needs to be said: Please do not repost or archive this without my permission.
***
"Come on," Dean said. "Don't be such a baby. It's not like we haven't done it before."
Sam snorted. "Yeah. I remember the last time, thanks. I still have the scars to prove it."
"It won't be like that this time," Dean promised. "It'll be very 'wham, bam, thank you m'am.'"
"It's never that easy. Besides, we can't just go chasing after every Woman in White that we hear about."
"It will be that easy, and this one is on our way."
Sam shifted in his seat to turn and stare at his brother, who was drumming his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. "Why do you care about this so much?"
Dean shrugged. "Because these people need our help. And I'm bored."
Only Dean. Sam leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He could still feel it sometimes. Cold fingers clutching around his heart, but the pain was always in the doubt that her words caused.
"I haven't been unfaithful."
"You will be."
Did it count as being unfaithful now that Jess was dead?
"Sam?"
Sam sighed. "Whatever you say, Dean."
"Good. We'll be there in twenty minutes."
***
"Man, these guys really are taking over the world."
The mid-afternoon rush at Starbucks seemed to be over as they walked in. "We're looking for a Catherine Jacobson," Dean said to the leggy young blonde behind the counter, not even bothering to try and hide the once-over he gave her.
Sam wanted to kick him.
"I'm Cat," the girl said a little coldly.
Sam stepped forward before Dean could alienate her further. "Hi, I'm Sam. This is my partner, Dean."
Cat raised an eyebrow. "Partner?"
"F.B.I., missing persons. We wanted to talk to you about your boyfriend. Do you have a few minutes?" Sam affected his most sympathetic expression, and Cat's features softened a little.
"I've got a break in fifteen minutes."
"Great, we'll wait for you over there." Sam pointed to the table in the corner with the big armchairs around it. He started to walk away, stopped, turned and grabbed Dean to get him to follow.
"Cat, huh?" Dean leaned in and whispered as they sat down. "Mrow!"
"Oh. My. God." Sam shot him a dirty look. "You have got to be kidding me." For as good of a guy as Dean was, he could be an incredibly smarmy, skeezy jerk sometimes.
"What? Tell me you wouldn't do her in a heartbeat."
Case and point. "She's all of seventeen, Dean."
Dean shrugged. "Looks old enough to me."
"You're disgusting."
"I'm honest."
Sam leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wondered how it was that Dean got laid as often as he did, and decided that he was lucky he was so damn attractive, because it certainly wasn't his charming personality. "Just try not to totally creep her out before we get what we need to know."
"Honestly, Sam. I'm a little offended. You act like I have no tact."
Sam gave Dean a skeptical look, but wisely said nothing. Dean really didn't have any tact. But then, why would he? For as long as Sam could remember, Dean had been all about the mission, and you couldn't kill things with pretty words. With some Latin and a vial of holy water, maybe, but that wasn't quite the same thing.
The first time Sam had worked up the nerve to talk to Jess, they were at a dorm party that his roommate had dragged him to. Five minutes into the conversation, Jess had laughed and said, "You don't talk to girls much, do you?"
Sam had cringed and blushed all the way down to his toes. "My, uh-- My family traveled a lot when I was a kid. Is it that obvious?"
Jess had laughed again, and Sam had been totally smitten from that moment on. "It really is." Then she'd leaned in and whispered, "Luckily for you, it's also terribly charming."
"Dean?" Sam sat forward, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Do you ever talk to women?"
"You're kidding me, right? Not if I don't have to." Dean licked his lips and raised his eyebrow as Cat walked toward them. "Why would I waste time talking to them?"
"Right." Sam looked up as Cat reached their table. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to us," he said.
"You said you had questions about Mark?"
"Yeah, uh. Just a few things that weren't in the police report." Luckily, Sam had been able to do some quick research when they'd checked into the motel. "You said that the last time you saw Mark was Friday?"
Cat nodded and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Yeah, we went out to dinner, then rented some movies and went back to my place. My parents were out of town."
"Okay." Sam rubbed his palms against his pants. "Look, there's no easy way to ask this, but-- In most cases like this, especially with teenagers, the person's just run off. Is there any chance that Mark could have been, um, seeing someone else?"
"No. There's no way." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Look, I get what you're getting at, but Mark was a good guy. One of the few. We weren't sleeping together. By his choice. He made it totally clear when we started dating that he wanted to wait until he was married."
"Uh..." Sam floundered, unsure of how to respond to that. He'd been expecting some hint at Mark's infidelity.
"That's very impressive, especially at your age," Dean said seriously. "He sounds like a great guy." Then he shot Sam a, "See? I can do serious, too!" look.
"He is," Cat whispered as she looked away, her eyes filling with tears.
"We're going to do everything we can to find him," Sam told her.
***
"It doesn't make any sense," Sam said as they walked back towards the car.
"I know, man. If I was dating a girl like Cat, I'd be banging her every chance I got."
"Right, well it's not exactly a Woman in White's modus operandi, is it?"
"Well, he still could have been unfaithful, just because she didn't know about it."
Sam shook his head. "No way. I mean, you said it yourself. With a girlfriend like that..."
"Maybe it wasn't girls he was interested in."
"Oh, come on."
"It's a possibility, Sammy," Dean said as he slid into the car. "Especially in small towns like this, he'd need a cover. The 'no sex until marriage' thing would be perfect."
Sam sighed and then shrugged. "Well, there's only one way to find out."
"Next name on the list?"
Sam looked down at the notebook. "Erin Sullivan's brother disappeared six months ago."
"Let's go."
***
"Okay." Dean held up his hands in surrender when they finally made it back to the motel. "You're right, it doesn't make sense for a Woman in White. All those guys can't be gay. I mean, one or two, maybe, but--"
"Dean!"
"Right, sorry."
"Anyway," Sam said, giving Dean an annoyed look. "You're right. I don't think it's a Woman in White. The men who have disappeared aren't just faithful. According to their friends and family, they're practically monks."
"That's it, Sam! You're brilliant," Dean said as he dug out Dad's notebook. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for and set it down in front of Sam.
Sam looked down at the sketch, a beautiful woman with large, leathery wings stretched out behind her. "You think they were taken by a succubus?"
"Think about it, Sam. A she-demon who draws on men's sexual energy. In medieval times, they were believed to target monks specifically."
Sam nodded. "I guess it does make sense. I mean, if a succubus draws on sexual energy, then they would target men who have no outlet for that energy." He looked up from the notebook with a humorless laugh. "This thing is targeting virgins."
"Yeah." Dean nodded, a strained look on his face. "That would appear to be the case."
"So, I guess there's a silver lining," Sam said as he stripped off his shirt.
"What's that?"
Sam crawled into bed and shut off the light. "For once, it won't be going after us."
"Yeah. Thank Christ," Dean whispered in the dark.
***
Sam only got a few hours of sleep, his dreams full of disturbing, erotic images. Bodies twisting together, blood, fire. Always fire. He spent the rest of the morning doing research on the succubus.
"So what's the verdict, Brainiac?" Dean asked when he walked out of the bathroom, freshly showered.
"I have a few leads." Sam looked over his notes again. "In the sixteenth century, a carving of a succubus outside an inn indicated that the establishment was also a brothel. But I think that these places were actually the succubus' lair."
"What do you mean?" Dean leaned down so that he could read over Sam's shoulder, his wet hair dripping on Sam's neck.
"From what I can find, these places were usually off the beaten path. According to the locals, there were always noises coming from inside like it was always busy, but everyone in town knew to stay away."
Dean sighed. "Meaning?"
"I don't think there were actually people in there. I think these lairs were enchanted to keep people away except for those that the succubus wanted to lure there."
"Okay, then." Dean straightened and walked over to his duffel bag. "So, all we have to do is find a place with a succubus carving out front," he said sarcastically.
Sam smiled. "I'm way ahead of you."
"What?" Dean walked back over to where Sam was sitting, a skeptical look on his face. "You're kidding me."
"Not at all. I've been going through old news stories, looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary, and I came across this." He pulled up the news article he'd found.
"The Shattered Prayer," Dean said. "Nice. But what makes you think this is the place?"
"A few years back someone raised a big stink about the place, wanted it condemned. As it turned out, nobody could find out who owned the building or the land, so ownership reverted back to the town."
"And?"
"The motion to have the building condemned and torn down was unanimously defeated."
"Okay." Dean clapped his hands together. "Let's roll out."
Sam closed his computer, and then looked over at his brother. "Uh, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Pants?"
Dean looked down at the towel still wrapped around his waist. "Pants. Right."
***
They pulled up and parked right in front of the tavern, despite Sam's suggestion that they park down the road a little ways.
"Silver bullets and holy water. Check and check," Dean said as they got out of the car. "I thought you said this place was deserted, Sam."
Sam's stomach clenched a little at the statement. "It is. Dean. It is deserted."
But Dean wasn't listening to him, he was already at the door and Sam had to jog to catch up with him.
"Dean."
"Holy shit. Where did all these people come from?"
Sam looked around the dark room, confused as to what his brother was talking about. Boards covered up the windows, and there were cobwebs everywhere. There were cracked mirrors behind the bar, and dusty shards of broken glass covered the floor. "Dean, there's nobody here." Something was wrong. He'd obviously missed something in his research. "I think we should go."
"I think you should stay."
Sam squinted through the darkness to see a woman coming down a narrow staircase he hadn't noticed before.
"I've been waiting to meet you, Dean."
"Really?" Dean had that stupid grin on his face, and it was enough that the overwhelming urge to punch him cut through Sam's concern.
The woman stepped into the room, and Sam was able to get a clearer look at her. She had long, dark hair and dark eyes, sultry curves and large black wings that stretched out behind her.
"I'm Dean," Dean said.
She smiled. "I know."
Dean turned to Sam, still grinning stupidly. "She knows who I am."
"Oh, good." Sam pulled out his gun and took aim, and suddenly his wrist burned, shooting a lightning crack of pain up his arm. His gun fell from his numb fingers and he looked down stupidly to see the end of a forked tongue unwrap from his arm and shoot back across the room.
"Dean and I were having a conversation, Sam."
Sam flexed his fingers, but he couldn't feel anything, and Dean was walking away from him. A sudden panic clenched at the center of his chest. "Dean! We have to go!"
"I'll catch up with you later, Sam." He didn't even turn around.
Sheer terror threatened to overwhelm Sam for one endless moment before his years of training kicked in. He grabbed the switchblade he always carried on him with his good hand and lunged forward, slicing Dean's shoulder.
Dean stopped instantly, his hand going up to the wound as he turned to look at Sam.
"We have to go," Sam said. Then he threw himself at Dean, knocking him off his feet as the forked tongue shot past his head. "Now."
"Right." Dean scrambled to his feet and sprinted towards the door.
Pain shot through Sam's arm again as he tried to push himself up, and he stumbled and tripped, and the succubus was laughing behind him.
"Don't worry, Sam. You're not much use to me. But I'll tell Jessica you said hi."
Sam froze, unable to breathe or think. All he could feel was fear and pain. Then there were arms around him, Dean's voice saying something, but Sam couldn't make out the words, and they were outside, then in the car and they were driving away.
"Sam? Sammy?"
Dean sounded concerned.
"I'm really fucking tired of those things bringing up Jess," Sam said, and he closed his eyes and everything was dark and cold.
***
"Oh my god," Sam groaned. His head, shoulder, arm and wrist all throbbed painfully when he tried to move. "What happened?"
"I think it was some kind of venom, used to paralyze her victims. Can you move your hand?"
Sam sucked in a breath as he wiggled his fingers and needles of agony flared up and down his arm before dying back down to a dull throbbing. He cracked his eyes open, and saw that they were back in the motel room. "Yeah," he finally said. "I think it's starting to wear off."
"Good. I need you to clean this up." Dean turned, and Sam saw that he still had the same shirt on, his shoulder caked with blood.
"Dean." Sam sat up, wincing a little, but everything had settled into more of a bearable ache. "What happened?"
Dean raised an eyebrow. "You're the one that did it, bro."
"Yeah, I know that," Sam said, a little exasperated. "I'm talking about why I had to do it." One of the first lessons their father had taught them was that pain would break most kinds of enchantments for short periods of time. He leaned forward. "What I want to know is why you were completely under her thrall."
"You know how much I love our heart-to-hearts, Sammy, but my shoulder's starting to hurt a little. Do you think it could wait?"
Sam sighed. He knew he wasn't going to get any answers from Dean until Dean was good and ready. "Sure. Let's go in the bathroom." He grabbed the first aid kit and followed Dean into the room that was barely big enough for one of them.
Dean was straddling the toilet and staring off into space, his body completely tense.
"I, uh. I think this T-shirt is a lost cause." Sam pulled out his switchblade again, marveling a little that he actually still had it with him, and sliced Dean's shirt straight down the back. He peeled the material away from the wound slowly, wincing a little at the places where it was stuck, but Dean didn't flinch or move at all.
Sam wet a wash cloth and cleaned the wound, glad to see that his training hadn't failed him. The cut he'd made was long, but shallow, and required nothing more than a few butterfly bandages.
When he was done, Dean stood and walked past Sam, out of the bathroom without saying a word. Sam followed him out to find Dean sitting on the bed checking the clip of his gun.
"Dean--" Sam floundered, not quite sure what to make of his brother's uncharacteristic silence. "We need to talk. I need to know what happened back there." But Dean didn't answer him. He didn't even acknowledge that Sam had spoken.
It hit Sam, then. That maybe it wasn't Dean. That maybe he was the one that messed up. Had he actually been the one under the succubus' thrall?
"I'm sorry."
Dean looked up at that.
Sam ran his fingers through his hair and looked away. "I screwed up. I must have missed something. I must have-- What did I do?"
"Sam. Shit." Dean shook his head. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why--"
"I'm a virgin," Dean said over him.
Sam stood there blinking for several long moments. "What?"
"I'm a virgin, and I swear to god if you laugh I will shoot you in the head right now." As if to prove he was serious, he leveled his gun at Sam's head.
"I wasn't going to laugh," Sam promised, holding his hands up.
"Right."
"Dean." Sam shook his head. "Jessica was the only girl I ever had sex with. And we were dating for almost a year before that happened."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "You swear?"
Sam drew an 'x' across his chest with his index finger.
"Why did you wait that long?" Dean asked, lowering his arm a little.
"Honestly? The thought of it kind of scared the hell out of me. Demons, ghosts, hellbeasts, I can face. A naked girl?" Sam shook his head.
Dean finally smiled at that.
"Okay." Sam took a deep breath and then let it out when Dean finally set the gun down. "So, well. That's good. At least now we know the problem."
"First of all, thanks for that," Dean said sarcastically. "But I'm really more concerned about the solution at the moment."
"Yeah. Well, I guess the obvious solution is to get you laid."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Thank God for all that fancy college learnin'. Should we just go get a hooker? Or do you think, 'Hey, would you mind terribly if I banged you so that I won't be vulnerable to the succubus that's preying on the town's virgin men?' would work with one of the local girls?"
"No." Sam rubbed the back of his neck. Neither of those solutions sat well with him. Dean's first time shouldn't be with a prostitute, and while a one-night stand with a local girl wasn't a terrible idea, Sam had seen Dean with girls, and with his newfound insight, Sam knew there was no way Dean was going to be able to seduce one in the time that they had.
"No," Dean agreed, pacing back and forth. "So tell me, Professor. Who am I supposed to have all this sex with?"
"Me," Sam said without thinking.
Dean froze. "What?"
And Sam really wasn't sure, out of the two of them, who was more surprised. He had no idea what had possessed him to make the suggestion in the first place, though it was the most practical, if a bit unorthodox a solution. "Uh. Yeah. Well, it's the easiest way of dealing with, y'know." He waved his hand. "It."
"Tempting an offer as that is, Sammy, I'm afraid I'll have to pass. There's got to be another way." He resumed his pacing. "What if you went in alone? You're as trained as I am. You could handle her."
Relief flooded through Sam as he looked down at his bandaged wrist. Practical solution or no, he wasn't sure he could go through with sleeping with his brother. "I could try--"
"No," Dean cut him off immediately. "Are you crazy? She almost killed you last time. There's no way I'm letting you take that risk. I guess we could just leave."
"If you think--"
"We can't just leave, Sam. Or do you want to be the one to tell Cat that we could get her boyfriend back, but we decided not to?"
"No," Sam said slowly.
"I didn't think so." Dean stood there for a moment, his hands on his hips and then sighed. "So, theoretically speaking, exactly how much sex do you think we'd have to have?"
***
"Do we really need a checklist?"
Sam ignored him and kept writing. When he had what he felt was a fairly comprehensive list of sexual acts, he turned back to Dean. "Look, this is the easiest way to make sure that we have all our bases covered and to keep it--"
"Professional?" Dean quirked an eyebrow. "And this would in no way be an exercise in humiliation?"
"Yeah, Dean." Sam snapped, letting his anger get the better of him. "I'm having a great time. This is just how I wanted to spend my day. Making a list of ways I get to fuck my brother. It's like a dream come true."
Dean swallowed and looked away. "I'm sorry. This just..."
"I know," Sam said quietly.
"Okay." Dean clapped his hands together. "First question."
"Okay. Have you, um. Have you ever given and/or received oral sex?"
Dean's forehead wrinkled. "You mean like over the phone?"
"Oh." Sam blinked down at his list and started to panic. He couldn't do this. He couldn't sit there and explain every sex act to his brother.
"I'm joking, genius," Dean finally said. "I know what oral sex is. And, um. Yeah. No."
Sam made a check in the 'no' column next to 'oral sex'. "Okay, have you ever received a handjob? From someone else, that is."
Dean gave him a dirty look.
"Okay, uh."
"Look, can we just--" Dean grabbed the list away from him. "No, no, no. Only in my dreams. Almost, one time. No. I'm not even sure what that is." He looked up. "Have you done everything on this list, Sam?"
Sam shifted uncomfortably and said, "I wanted to be thorough."
"Man. You're a geek about everything, aren't you?" He tossed the list back at Sam. "It's all 'no', Sam."
"Have you ever kissed anyone?"
Dean looked away, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, well, a little of that probably wouldn't hurt either."
"Right." Sam stared down at the list and wondered once again if they were really going to go through with it.
"Huh."
Sam jumped and looked up, surprised to find Dean reading over his shoulder. "What?"
"I don't know, that's just. That's a whole lot of sex. Do you think, I mean, am I going to have to, uh, come each time?"
"I don't know," Sam admitted.
"Yeah, well." Dean walked over to the dresser and grabbed his jacket. "I'll be back."
"Wait. Where are you going?"
"Provisions."
"Provisions?"
Dean nodded. "If we're actually going to do seven through twelve on that list, I'm going to need provisions."
"Provisions." Sam looked back down at the list. "Right. Good idea."
***
Dean was gone longer than Sam expected, which gave Sam more time to think than he really wanted. He still wasn't sure if he could do this, but how could he not? His mind went in circles. What else could they do? There was nothing else. Who else could Dean sleep with? Sam was all Dean had.
He jumped as the door to the motel suddenly flew open.
"I have returned," Dean announced, his arm wrapped around a paper bag full of stuff. He kicked the door shut behind him, and Sam went over to make sure it was locked.
"What did you get?" He asked as Dean started to unpack.
"Potato chips, red vines, some ding dongs. Hey, have you ever tried these?" He held up a bag of Wasabi Funions.
"Those are your provisions?" Sam asked, incredulous.
"Well, I couldn't just go up to the counter with this," he said, tossing something at Sam.
Sam caught it and looked down. "Wow. I didn't know they sold lube at the grocery store."
"Well, now you know."
"And knowing is half the battle," Sam said automatically. He set the bottle down on the nightstand and sat down on the bed. The reality of what they were going to do suddenly hit home. "Oh god."
"And this."
Sam looked up to see Dean standing in front of him, holding a bottle of whiskey.
"You should have been a boy scout." He took the bottle and took a generous shot before handing it back to Dean. The whiskey hit his stomach like a firebomb, but did little to relieve his tension.
Dean took a shot as well before setting it on the nightstand. "Always be prepared."
"So, uh." Sam stood up, and Dean was actually standing closer than Sam had anticipated. He felt stupid and awkward, and really wished that he could follow Dean's lead in this as he always had with everything else.
"Let's get this party started?"
"Yeah. Something like that."
They stood there, then, staring at each other, and Sam knew that he was going to have to be the one to take the lead this time. He made a concentrated effort to repress everything he was feeling. All the awkward, nervous, uncomfortable thoughts. If he was going to be able to do this at all, he had to stop thinking. Mind over matter. Or body over mind, in this case. "I guess we should kiss?"
Dean just nodded like he was willing to go along with whatever Sam said. So Sam closed his eyes and leaned in, and Dean must have done the same thing, because their faces crashed together somewhat painfully.
"Okay," Sam said, rubbing his nose.
Dean took another shot of whiskey.
"We'll try that again." He tilted his head, keeping his eyes open this time, which was way more disconcerting. Dean was watching him with an odd sort of fascination, like this was the most twisted science experiment ever, and it was making Sam a little self-conscious.
The kiss was weird, a dry press of lips. They stayed there for a moment, mouths firmly closed, lips pressed together, watching each other cross-eyed. Sam pulled away a little, and tried again, puckering his lips a little more, and pulling away with a smack, as if he were a three year-old kissing his grandmother goodnight.
Dean just stood there watching him.
This was stupid. Sam knew how to kiss. He was actually quite good at it, and just because he was kissing someone he'd never planned to kiss didn't mean that he still didn't know the correct technique.
"Okay," he said again, and brought his hand up.
"Whoa." Dean flinched away. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to kiss you properly," Sam said forcefully.
"Well, well, Rhett. Do you think I just go around kissing--"
"Dean!" Sam snapped, annoyed.
Dean threw up his hands. "It's weird!"
"Well, it's not going to get less weird, so shut up and let me do this."
"Fine."
"Thank you." Sam gave Dean another dirty look for good measure, and licked his lips. "Just-- Just try and relax a little."
Dean nodded, and didn't flinch away when Sam brought his hand up to cup the side of Dean's face. He stroked his thumb over Dean's cheek for a moment, then leaned in, his eyelids sliding shut. Sam kept his lips parted a little as he covered Dean's mouth, sucking at Dean's lower lip a little as he pulled away.
"Oh," Dean whispered.
Then they were kissing again, and just like that and Sam was achingly hard, dizzy. Hot, wet and dirty kisses, sucking, licking, a little biting. Dean's hands were on Sam's ass, and the bed hit the back of Sam's knees half a second before he was flat on his back, his lip bleeding a little because Dean had bitten him when they fell.
It changed then, synched up somehow, and the kisses went from weird and frantic to something else entirely. Everything slowed down, like they were underwater. Sam felt like he was outside of himself, watching them move and twine together, like lovers. It took him awhile to realize that they were making-out. Long, slow kisses, his tongue sliding against Dean's, and Dean tasted burning like whiskey, and a little bittersweet, like he'd had chocolate on the way back. For a moment, Sam wondered if Dean had brought a candy bar for him too.
The thought was lost as Dean's hand slipped under Sam's shirt, his hot, callused fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. Sam shuddered and clenched at Dean's T-shirt as he tried to pull Dean closer. He wanted to feel Dean's weight on top of him, pressing him down. He wanted something to make this more solid and real, to make sure it wasn't a dream. He wanted something to focus on so that he wouldn't have to think.
Dean pulled away a little and moved down to kiss Sam's neck, and Jesus, for having no experience, Dean certainly seemed to know all the places to touch that made Sam gasp.
"You sure you haven't done this before?" Sam asked, a little embarrassed at how uneven his voice was.
Dean laughed low, short hot breaths against Sam's neck. "I'm fairly certain I would have remembered doing this."
The dark, rough need in Dean's voice shot through Sam like lightning, straight to his cock. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so turned-on, which was starting to panic him. He was enjoying this, and it couldn't all be just physical. He was enjoying it because it was Dean.
"C'mon, Sammy. Don't start freaking on me," Dean whispered. "I need you."
At that, Sam stopped trying to untwist his mind and gave himself up entirely to the perverse desire to make sure that Dean never said that to anyone else. He tugged at Dean's shirt until Dean got the idea, and batted Sam's hands away so that he could pull it off himself and toss it over his shoulder. Dean leaned back down to claim Sam's mouth again, settling his body more firmly between Sam's thighs.
Sam ran his hands over Dean's back as they kissed, marveling at the feel of the smooth lines of muscle. Dean had always been strong, the way he walked, moved, always conveying a sense of power that Sam never felt in himself. That nobody else had ever wanted to touch that power, to be a part of it in some small way, stunned Sam. He had wanted to be part of it since he could remember, he just never thought it'd be like this.
Dean sat up suddenly, pushing Sam's shirt up his body. "Off," he said. "Now."
Usually, when Dean ordered Sam around, it was obnoxious, but obviously the normal rules no longer applied, because all Sam could do was say, "H'okay!" as he scrambled to comply.
Sam moved back until he was fully on the bed and Dean crawled after him, but stopped before covering Sam's body with his own again. Instead, his eyes trailed down Sam's chest, and his hands settled on Sam's thighs. Sam's hips bucked involuntarily, and Dean grinned wolfishly in response.
Dean's hands moved to Sam's fly and Sam could feel his whole body start to shake.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting ready to cross number one off the list," Dean said as he pulled Sam's jeans down over his hips. "If that's okay?"
Sam nodded. "No teeth."
"Yeah, thanks," Dean said as he pulled Sam's boxers down.
Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath to prepare himself and was shocked by the sudden wet heat that engulfed him.
"Jesus!" He bolted upright, his cock slipping out of Dean's mouth.
Dean licked his lips and had the gall to give Sam an annoyed look. "Which one of us is the virgin again?"
"Just--" Sam flopped back down on the bed. "Warn me next time."
"Okay." Dean grabbed Sam's hips, pressing down. "I'm going to suck your dick now."
Sam tried to tell himself that he wasn't turned on by that, but his body didn't seem to agree. His hips bucked again, except that Dean was holding him down, and Sam couldn't move.
Then the wet heat returned, sloppy and teasing, definitely inexperienced, but god it had been so long. Sam dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He couldn't watch, couldn't handle the sight of Dean's lips wrapped around him, pink and obscene and enthusiastic. It was too much to admit to, to be as hard as he was. The pressure was already building. Sam tried to concentrate on the echo of his own panting breaths, but he couldn't quite block out the dirty, wet noises Dean was making.
White spots started to form behind Sam's eyelids, and he tried to move his hips again, but Dean had him solidly pinned. Sam clutched at the sheets, dizzy with the heady pleasure of being restrained. The thrill of being overpowered was so unexpected that Sam's stomach tightened and he only had enough time to gasp his brother's name before he was coming, way too soon. He threw his arm over his eyes, embarrassed.
Dean pulled off and made a weird snorting-coughing sound. "Jesus, Sam! Speaking of warning a guy!"
"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. Then louder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Is it some sort of biological predisposition that you have to angst about everything?" Dean sounded annoyed.
Sam uncovered his eyes and looked at Dean, his mouth quirked into a half smile, his eyes a dark sea-green color that Sam had never seen before.
"You held me down."
Dean wrinkled his brow.
"I didn't--" Sam cleared his throat. "I didn't expect to like. That." Which, if the cocky grin that spread across Dean's face was anything to go by, was the wrong thing to say.
"Liked that, huh?"
Sam nodded as Dean caressed his arms, moving them until he had Sam's wrists crossed, pinned above his head.
"I could get used to that," Dean whispered.
It was too easy, Sam thought as Dean's body settled against his. Too easy to forget that this was for a purpose, and that they were brothers, not lovers. He tested Dean's grip, and started getting hard again when he was unable to break it.
Dean just grinned again, leaning in to gently bite Sam's neck. "I never would have pegged you for such a bottom, Sammy." Then he pulled back and licked his lips. "No, wait. I take that back. You're a total bottom."
Sam tried to be annoyed--should have been, since Dean was being completely obnoxious--except that it was apparently true. Dean squeezed Sam's a little harder, stinging pain shooting up from Sam's bandaged wrist, and Sam got harder. He quit trying to rationalize and gave himself over completely to the sensations.
"So." Sam gave Dean a defiant look. "Are you going to fuck me or what?"
"Jesus." Dean shut his eyes, his grip tightening even more, and just like that, Sam had the upper hand again.
He grinned. "Did you almost come in your pants?"
"Shut up," Dean said as he sat up. "And turn over."
Sam complied, flipping onto his stomach. He turned to watch as Dean stood up and shucked his pants. He wondered how many new levels of 'This is not real' he could reach as Dean crawled back onto the bed.
"Oh god." Sam shuddered as Dean kissed the small of his back and then licked a hot, wet trail up the length of Sam's spine.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Dean asked, his voice low and rough.
Sam nodded. "Just... Go slow."
Dean moved away, and when Sam turned to look at him, his expression was oddly serious.
"I would die before I hurt you, Sam."
"I know." Sam took a deep, shuddering breath, his stomach clenching at the dark intensity of Dean's gaze. "I know that."
Dean leaned down again, pressing tiny kisses across Sam's shoulders.
Sam closed his eyes and tried to relax, sink into himself as Dean continued to explore his body. Soft kisses and gentle fingers trailed down his spine, past his waist, just a ghost of a touch before Dean's mouth was back at Sam's neck--hot, insistent, sucking kisses.
Then Dean was gone, and Sam shivered as he heard Dean opening the bottle of lube. He didn't turn around, but the picture was vivid in his mind's eye--Dean kneeling behind him, slowly stroking his cock, preparing himself.
The thought made Sam's cock throb in anticipation, and he shifted his hips, needing friction, something to focus on. He jumped two seconds later when Dean grabbed his hips, pulling until Sam was kneeling up on all fours. Sam stayed like that as Dean's hands left him again, his head hanging down between his shoulders as he focused on breathing. Panting. Whatever.
"Okay," Dean whispered, and Sam couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement, so he nodded, just to be sure.
Saw twitched a little at the first press of Dean's finger, slick and insistent. Dean worked it in so slowly as to be almost unbearable before he added a second one.
"How are--I mean, what, how did--?"
"Just because I haven't done this doesn't mean I've never watched porn. I know what to do. Sort of."
"You were watching gay porn?"
"Shut up, Sammy."
Sam tried to relax, he did, it didn't hurt but the odd stretch on Dean's fingers made this so real. He missed them, though, when Dean pulled them back.
The blunt head of Dean's cock pressed against Sam's opening, then in, and Sam sucked in a sharp breath against the pain. Dean froze, his fingers digging into Sam's hips. Then he moved his hands to stroke down Sam's back, over his sides.
Sam kept his eyes closed, head down as he took several deep breaths and tried to relax. This was Dean, and Dean would never hurt him, and it would be okay. By the time he was finished with his mental litany, the pain had subsided somewhat. It occurred to Sam, as Dean's hands stroked down his sides once more, that Dean was trying to comfort him. Dean's body was trembling, and Sam could only imagine what it was costing him to stay still at the moment.
"M'okay," Sam said, pressing his hips back experimentally. The pain that he'd initially felt didn't return. It was actually almost kind of not too bad. "Kay, go."
Dean snorted and started moving, slow and steady, his breath hissing through his teeth, until his body was flush against Sam's. Then he stopped again, and Sam felt weirdly raw and aware. His skin tingled in the places Dean had touched him, and he could feel Dean's cock throbbing inside of him.
An odd, restless pressure started to build at the base of Sam's spine, sending pulses through his body, the promise of pleasure, and Dean still wasn't moving.
"Dean," Sam said as he tried to shift his hips. He needed something, to act in some way, or for Dean to, maybe.
"Fuck." Dean started to slide out. "Sam."
Sam nodded and groaned at Dean's slow thrust inside him. He leaned down until he was resting on his elbows, his hips tilted up and when Dean moved against him again, something exploded behind Sam's eyes. "Fucking hell, do that again!"
Dean seemed to pick up a rhythm, then, a little quicker, more forceful and Sam angled his hips until Dean was hitting that spot every time.
"Sammy." Dean's voice was almost unrecognizable. Low and gritty and dirty in a way Sam hadn't expected.
Sam twisted his hands in the sheets beneath him. "Yeah. God, Dean." Pressure wound tight through the center of Sam's body, and he reached down and grabbed his cock, stroking it roughly as Dean sped up. So close. So close.
Without any warning, Dean's hand covered Sam's, his thumb rubbing once over the head of Sam's cock, and that was all it took.
Sam's body shook as he came, too intense with Dean still fucking him, pushing against that spot until the pleasure bordered on pain. Just when Sam thought he couldn't stand it anymore, Dean was coming. Over him, inside him, and Sam added that to the long mental list of things he never thought he'd enjoy before slumping fully onto the bed, Dean's weight heavy and welcome on top of him.
Time passed in a weird, fluctuating state until Dean asked, "How do you feel?"
"Uh." Sam took stock of everything before answering. His skin had mostly stopped tingling, and he wasn't seeing spots anymore, so that was probably good. He was also on top of a wet spot, which was a little uncomfortable. "Sticky."
"Me too," Dean said after a moment.
Sam turned then, but Dean's eyes were closed, his expression unreadable. "Shower?"
Dean's eyes fluttered open, and he gave Sam an annoyed look. "Together?"
"It would hardly be the weirdest thing we've done today." Sam rolled out of the bed and tried not to look as self-conscious as he felt standing there naked in front of Dean. "Are you coming?"
"Not again any time soon," Dean muttered as he stood up.
Sam hesitated at the bathroom door, and then turned on the light. He studied himself in the mirror under the unflattering florescent glow, unsure of what he was expecting to find. Nothing had changed on the surface to reflect the turmoil of everything inside. He wasn't sure if that was a comfort or not.
Dean hadn't followed Sam into the bathroom, so Sam left the door open and went to the shower to turn the water on. When it was as hot as he could stand it, he stepped in. Closed his eyes and let the water wash over him until he felt Dean's presence in front of him.
"Sam." Dean stood there, his expression a curious shade of determined, and this was weird. God it was weird. "Here."
Sam looked down to see Dean holding a washcloth. "Thanks." For lack of anything better to do, he took it and grabbed the bar of soap of the shelf, turning it over and over in the washcloth until Dean grabbed it from him.
"It's soapy," Dean said, his irritation obvious.
For a man who just got laid, you're pretty pissy, Sam thought, though he managed to bite back the comment. Instead, he swiped the soapy washcloth over his arms, then his chest, down his stomach, up his ribs.
When he looked up, Dean was just standing there, watching him and he looked pissed. So Sam handed him the washcloth and said, "Get my back." He turned and waited.
It seemed like an eternity before Sam felt the rough swipe of the cloth across his shoulders, then over his back. Dean's hand closed over Sam's hip as he ran the washcloth down Sam's spine, down past his waist, and then--
"I can't."
The washcloth dropped to the floor with a plop, and Sam turned to see Dean's eyes squeeze shut.
Sam bent over, picked up the cloth and rinsed it out. He lathered it up again and then pushed Dean under the stream of water. Dean was half-hard again as Sam ran the washcloth over his body.
"Sam." Dean pushed Sam's arm away as the washcloth dipped below his waist.
"Yeah?" Sam dropped the washcloth and grabbed the soap, working lather up in his hand.
"Don't"
"Don't what?" Sam wrapped his soapy fingers around Dean's cock, stroking slowly as Dean got harder. "You want me to leave so that you can beat off alone?"
"No. Yes." Dean thrust into Sam's hand. "Fuck."
Sam stepped away from Dean's body so that the water hit him, rinsing away all the suds. Then he dropped to his knees.
"Sam," Dean said again. "Don't." Even as he said it, his fingers threaded through Sam's wet hair.
Sam ignored him as he bent his head down. He tried to remember all the things he liked, then he figured, It's Dean's first blowjob. He'll like it no matter what. and took the head of Dean's cock into his mouth and sucked.
"FUCK!"
Sam moved his mouth down as far as he could go without gagging and then pulled back. He wrapped his hand around the base of Dean's cock and moved it up and down in counterpoint to his mouth. Despite having received quite a few of them, Sam really had no idea what he was doing. He pulled back and then licked over the head, taking in the taste and texture, weird but not bad. He licked over it again, and Dean made encouraging noises above him.
"Sam, Sam, Sam," Dean chanted as Sam sucked and licked and did everything he could think of to drive Dean out of his mind. His own cock was hot and hard, and Sam used his free hand to reach between his legs, refusing to think about the fact that he was getting off on sucking his brother.
Then Dean was tugging at his hair hard enough to hurt, and Sam pulled off just in time. He stroked Dean through his orgasm, momentarily neglecting his own erection to watch Dean's face as he came.
Before Sam could finish himself off, Dean pulled him to his feet and shoved him against the shower wall.
"Wha--"
Dean cut him off with a violent kiss, which was okay because Sam wasn't really sure how he'd planned to finish the sentence. So he kissed Dean back, gripping at his shoulders as Dean jerked him off, almost too hard, just this side of perfect, and Sam came with Dean's tongue in his mouth, stealing away every thought except Dean and God and yes.
The water turned cold, a sudden shock against Sam's back and he was glad he'd already come, because it was enough to kill any lingering desire. They finished rinsing off quickly and jumped out of the shower.
Neither of them looked at each other as they dried off. The studiously ignored each other as they went back into the room and dug through their bags to find clean boxers. It wasn't until they went to go to bed that they both stopped.
Sam's bed was good as destroyed, sheets twisted and stained. He turned to look at Dean, and Dean's clean, still-made bed.
"Yeah, okay. Come on," Dean said as he turned down the sheets. "I mean, no big deal now, right?"
"Right." Sam crawled into bed without saying anything else. He was completely unable to gauge Dean's mood, and therefore didn't know what to do to fix it, or avoid it, or whatever.
Luckily, the day had taken its toll on Sam's energy, and he fell asleep before Dean had a chance to turn out the light.
***
The morning light had just started to creep into the room when Sam woke up. Still early, then, but Sam was surprised at how long he'd actually slept. It had been awhile since he'd been able to sleep through the night. Dean was still asleep next to him, on his back, one hand behind his head, the other spread out low on his stomach.
Sam's gaze trailed over Dean's body, taking in the various battle scars Dean had acquired over the years. There had been a time when Sam could name them all. The jagged one down his left side was from a werewolf in Minnesota, the shallow one across his abdomen from a poltergeist in Georgia, the circular one on his right arm was from a harpy in California. The more recent ones Sam knew, too. He could see them all, even the invisible ones. It was amazing how quickly the bruise from a blast of rock salt to the chest faded.
There was a sort of star-shaped one on Dean's left shoulder that Sam didn't recognize.
He reached out to trace over the smooth, raised skin.
"Bar fight in Nevada," Dean said, making Sam jump. "You should've seen the other guy."
"Oh."
Dean rolled out of bed before Sam could say anything else.
"Let's get this over with, shall we?" Dean called over his shoulder as he walked towards the bathroom.
"Yeah. Sure." Sam let his hand drop to the bed, onto the warm spot where Dean had just been. He stroked his fingers over the cheap cotton for a moment before pushing himself out of bed so that he could get dressed.
***
"You ready?" Dean asked as they sat outside the succubus' lair. They were the first words Dean had spoken since they woke up.
Sam just nodded.
They pulled their weapons from the trunk. Knives, guns with silver bullets, vials of holy water.
"What's that?" Sam asked as Dean pulled something else out.
"Flame thrower." Dean slammed the trunk shut and started towards the door, making Sam jog to catch up.
The place looked the same as it had the day before, but this time she was waiting for them, a smug look on her face.
"I must admit, I didn't think you had it in you," she said. Then she burst into flames.
"Go see if he's upstairs, Sam," Dean said. Then he fired a round of silver bullets into the succubus' flaming body.
Sam ran passed her, upstairs. There was nothing in the room but a huge bed, and on it her latest victim, looking drugged and sated.
"Mark?" Sam asked as he moved to get an arm beneath the guy.
"Yeah?"
"Time to go home." Sam pulled Mark into a sitting position, then tried to pull him out of the bed. "Come on, buddy. Help me out here."
"I don't wanna go," Mark said.
"Trust me," Sam said as smoke billowed up into the room. "You really do."
Dean ran into the room, and between the two of them, they managed to get Mark down the stairs and outside, into the Impala.
As soon as they got him situated, Dean turned back, as if to go back inside. Sam slammed his arm across Dean's chest to stop him.
"What the hell?"
"Let me go, Sam. I want to make sure she's dead."
Sam looked behind him. The building had caught fire quickly, and was already collapsing in on itself. "You set her on fire and then shot her. She's dead, Dean."
"Shit. Fuck!" Dean turned and kicked the tire of his car.
"Dean, what is going on?" Sam asked. Dean kicking the car was a bad sign. He liked that car more than he liked most people, and Dean generally liked people.
"That wasn't...It wasn't violent enough."
Sam snorted. "What did you want to do? Rip her still-beating heart out of her chest? Or just kick her a lot?"
Dean ran his hand through his hair and sighed as he watched the flames. "Yeah. Something like that."
"Why are you taking this so personally?"
Dean turned on Sam so fast that Sam didn't realize what happened until he was pinned against the car with Dean's knee wedged between his thighs. For a moment, Sam thought Dean was going to kiss him, but when Dean leaned in, it was to whisper, "It doesn't get more personal than this, Sammy."
Sam had no idea how to respond, didn't even have a chance before Dean was shoving him away.
"We've got to get Mark to the hospital," Dean said as he walked around to the driver's side of the car.
"Yeah. Okay." Sam nodded and slid into the passenger's seat.
***
They didn't talk to each other on the way back. Not when they dropped Mark off at the hospital, not when they talked to the police or the doctors. By the time they made it back to the motel room, Sam was wound so tight he felt like he was going to fly apart. Dean just simmered next to him, his rage palpable because this whole thing was apparently going to be Sam's fault.
"Look," Sam said as he shut the motel room door behind him. "We did what we had to do to get the job done. Just like we were trained." But Dean didn't answer him. "I can't believe you're mad at me for this!"
Dean just shook his head.
"It was just a job!"
"It was not just a goddamn job, Sam!" Dean yelled. "Our goddamn job has never turned me into a fucking pervert!"
"We did what we had to do, Dean," Sam said again.
"No." Dean closed his eyes. "It's not-- I enjoyed it, Sam." He sounded so tortured.
Sam gave a huff of laughter and sat down on the edge of the bed. "It was sex. You're kind of supposed to enjoy it. You can't beat yourself up about that."
Dean turned his back on Sam, braced his hands on the dresser and said, "No," again.
"No what?" Sam asked, exasperated.
"It was you."
Sam wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly. "What?"
"It was you, Sam." Dean turned back to face him. "I wanted you. Want. I still do." He shut his eyes again. "I didn't know. Not until... I'm sorry."
"Dean." Sam let it sink in, and he thought he should be more surprised, except that he felt the same way. He stood up and walked over to Dean, reached out and ran his fingers over Dean's lips. "I want it, too."
"Don't." Dean grabbed his wrist. "We can't do this."
"Why? It's not like you're gonna get me pregnant."
The corners of Dean's mouth twitched at that. "That's not funny."
"It's a little funny." Sam smiled and leaned in, brushing his mouth over Dean's.
"I'm serious, Sam." Dean shoved him away. "We can't do this. It isn't right."
"What the hell in our lives is right?" Sam asked.
"That's not the point."
"Then let's make it the point." Sam ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Say this thing ended tomorrow. Say Dad calls and says he got the thing that killed mom. What are you gonna do? You gonna get a nine to five job? A pretty little wife and a house with a white picket fence?"
"You know I'm not," Dean said quietly. "That doesn't mean that you can't."
"I already tried!" It was Sam's turn to shout. "It didn't work. Do you really think I just ignored every mysterious death in my area?"
Dean looked surprised by the question.
Sam laughed. "I tried, Dean. But the stuff we know, it's stuff you can't unlearn. We are never going to have a normal life. This is it. For both of us." He sighed and shrugged. "So the way I see it, we've got a choice. You can become the womanizer you've always pretended to be. Or we can have this."
"You’ve given this some thought," Dean said quietly, giving Sam an odd look.
"Not really." Sam flopped down on the bed, covering his eyes with his arm. "It's just. I don't want to give you up," he said helplessly. Then added, "It didn't feel wrong at the time."
The bed dipped next to Sam's side, and when Sam looked up, Dean was hovering over him.
"You would have made a hell of a lawyer, Sammy."
"Thanks."
Dean leaned down then, kissed Sam long and slow and with total possession. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders and gave himself over to it. He hadn't lied before-- nothing about this felt wrong. In fact, for the first time that Sam could remember, he felt exactly right.
When Dean pulled away, his lips were red and swollen, and he was smiling strangely. "You know we can't tell Dad about this, right?"
Sam laughed, his whole body shaking with the combination of amusement, shock and giddy relief. "Yeah. I can just imagine how well that particular conversation would go."
Dean started snickering with him, then rolled over until he was on his back next to Sam, and they were both laughing hysterically at the thought of having "The Conversation" with their father.
"Oh, man," Dean said as they started to calm down. "We are so fucked up." Which, of course, set them both off again.
When they'd both finally settled down, Dean turned to face Sam, his expression semi-serious. "Don't be expecting, like, flowers and shit."
"Why?" Sam asked. "You're apparently expecting me to grow a vagina."
Dean wrinkled his nose. "Please don't." He held his hand up before Sam could protest. "I know, I know. I get your point. But, you know. If you found someone. A girl you wanted to settle down with someday, that'd be okay. We'll always be brothers."
Sam nodded. He didn't tell Dean that he knew this was it, the way he knew which dreams were real, and which were just nightmares. Instead he leaned in and brushed his lips against Dean's and whispered, "Thank you."
"The chick flick rule still stands," Dean said.
"Right." Sam rolled his eyes. "How 'bout you suck my cock, then?"
Dean grinned and threw his leg over Sam's hips so that he was straddling his body. "Now that's my boy."
The End
Author: Joyfulgirl41
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: 18+
Date: Jan 2006
Summary: Another town, another job, and as it turns out, Dean needs Sam's help.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them, no matter how hard I wish I did. So sad for me.
Notes: Okay, long notes this time. I started this story forever ago, and finally found the motivation to finish it. Much thanks to autumnyte for audiencing early on. To stone_princess as always, for audiencing, betaing, encouraging, and generally going above and beyond in being utterly fabulous. And to estrella30 for being so totally awesome as to come through with a fantastic and speedy beta on, like, no notice. For Super Porn Sunday, of course. Go team porn! *loves*
Title borrowed from Absolutely Zero by Jason Mraz, with apologies.
And because it apparently needs to be said: Please do not repost or archive this without my permission.
***
"Come on," Dean said. "Don't be such a baby. It's not like we haven't done it before."
Sam snorted. "Yeah. I remember the last time, thanks. I still have the scars to prove it."
"It won't be like that this time," Dean promised. "It'll be very 'wham, bam, thank you m'am.'"
"It's never that easy. Besides, we can't just go chasing after every Woman in White that we hear about."
"It will be that easy, and this one is on our way."
Sam shifted in his seat to turn and stare at his brother, who was drumming his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. "Why do you care about this so much?"
Dean shrugged. "Because these people need our help. And I'm bored."
Only Dean. Sam leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He could still feel it sometimes. Cold fingers clutching around his heart, but the pain was always in the doubt that her words caused.
"I haven't been unfaithful."
"You will be."
Did it count as being unfaithful now that Jess was dead?
"Sam?"
Sam sighed. "Whatever you say, Dean."
"Good. We'll be there in twenty minutes."
***
"Man, these guys really are taking over the world."
The mid-afternoon rush at Starbucks seemed to be over as they walked in. "We're looking for a Catherine Jacobson," Dean said to the leggy young blonde behind the counter, not even bothering to try and hide the once-over he gave her.
Sam wanted to kick him.
"I'm Cat," the girl said a little coldly.
Sam stepped forward before Dean could alienate her further. "Hi, I'm Sam. This is my partner, Dean."
Cat raised an eyebrow. "Partner?"
"F.B.I., missing persons. We wanted to talk to you about your boyfriend. Do you have a few minutes?" Sam affected his most sympathetic expression, and Cat's features softened a little.
"I've got a break in fifteen minutes."
"Great, we'll wait for you over there." Sam pointed to the table in the corner with the big armchairs around it. He started to walk away, stopped, turned and grabbed Dean to get him to follow.
"Cat, huh?" Dean leaned in and whispered as they sat down. "Mrow!"
"Oh. My. God." Sam shot him a dirty look. "You have got to be kidding me." For as good of a guy as Dean was, he could be an incredibly smarmy, skeezy jerk sometimes.
"What? Tell me you wouldn't do her in a heartbeat."
Case and point. "She's all of seventeen, Dean."
Dean shrugged. "Looks old enough to me."
"You're disgusting."
"I'm honest."
Sam leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wondered how it was that Dean got laid as often as he did, and decided that he was lucky he was so damn attractive, because it certainly wasn't his charming personality. "Just try not to totally creep her out before we get what we need to know."
"Honestly, Sam. I'm a little offended. You act like I have no tact."
Sam gave Dean a skeptical look, but wisely said nothing. Dean really didn't have any tact. But then, why would he? For as long as Sam could remember, Dean had been all about the mission, and you couldn't kill things with pretty words. With some Latin and a vial of holy water, maybe, but that wasn't quite the same thing.
The first time Sam had worked up the nerve to talk to Jess, they were at a dorm party that his roommate had dragged him to. Five minutes into the conversation, Jess had laughed and said, "You don't talk to girls much, do you?"
Sam had cringed and blushed all the way down to his toes. "My, uh-- My family traveled a lot when I was a kid. Is it that obvious?"
Jess had laughed again, and Sam had been totally smitten from that moment on. "It really is." Then she'd leaned in and whispered, "Luckily for you, it's also terribly charming."
"Dean?" Sam sat forward, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Do you ever talk to women?"
"You're kidding me, right? Not if I don't have to." Dean licked his lips and raised his eyebrow as Cat walked toward them. "Why would I waste time talking to them?"
"Right." Sam looked up as Cat reached their table. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to us," he said.
"You said you had questions about Mark?"
"Yeah, uh. Just a few things that weren't in the police report." Luckily, Sam had been able to do some quick research when they'd checked into the motel. "You said that the last time you saw Mark was Friday?"
Cat nodded and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Yeah, we went out to dinner, then rented some movies and went back to my place. My parents were out of town."
"Okay." Sam rubbed his palms against his pants. "Look, there's no easy way to ask this, but-- In most cases like this, especially with teenagers, the person's just run off. Is there any chance that Mark could have been, um, seeing someone else?"
"No. There's no way." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Look, I get what you're getting at, but Mark was a good guy. One of the few. We weren't sleeping together. By his choice. He made it totally clear when we started dating that he wanted to wait until he was married."
"Uh..." Sam floundered, unsure of how to respond to that. He'd been expecting some hint at Mark's infidelity.
"That's very impressive, especially at your age," Dean said seriously. "He sounds like a great guy." Then he shot Sam a, "See? I can do serious, too!" look.
"He is," Cat whispered as she looked away, her eyes filling with tears.
"We're going to do everything we can to find him," Sam told her.
***
"It doesn't make any sense," Sam said as they walked back towards the car.
"I know, man. If I was dating a girl like Cat, I'd be banging her every chance I got."
"Right, well it's not exactly a Woman in White's modus operandi, is it?"
"Well, he still could have been unfaithful, just because she didn't know about it."
Sam shook his head. "No way. I mean, you said it yourself. With a girlfriend like that..."
"Maybe it wasn't girls he was interested in."
"Oh, come on."
"It's a possibility, Sammy," Dean said as he slid into the car. "Especially in small towns like this, he'd need a cover. The 'no sex until marriage' thing would be perfect."
Sam sighed and then shrugged. "Well, there's only one way to find out."
"Next name on the list?"
Sam looked down at the notebook. "Erin Sullivan's brother disappeared six months ago."
"Let's go."
***
"Okay." Dean held up his hands in surrender when they finally made it back to the motel. "You're right, it doesn't make sense for a Woman in White. All those guys can't be gay. I mean, one or two, maybe, but--"
"Dean!"
"Right, sorry."
"Anyway," Sam said, giving Dean an annoyed look. "You're right. I don't think it's a Woman in White. The men who have disappeared aren't just faithful. According to their friends and family, they're practically monks."
"That's it, Sam! You're brilliant," Dean said as he dug out Dad's notebook. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for and set it down in front of Sam.
Sam looked down at the sketch, a beautiful woman with large, leathery wings stretched out behind her. "You think they were taken by a succubus?"
"Think about it, Sam. A she-demon who draws on men's sexual energy. In medieval times, they were believed to target monks specifically."
Sam nodded. "I guess it does make sense. I mean, if a succubus draws on sexual energy, then they would target men who have no outlet for that energy." He looked up from the notebook with a humorless laugh. "This thing is targeting virgins."
"Yeah." Dean nodded, a strained look on his face. "That would appear to be the case."
"So, I guess there's a silver lining," Sam said as he stripped off his shirt.
"What's that?"
Sam crawled into bed and shut off the light. "For once, it won't be going after us."
"Yeah. Thank Christ," Dean whispered in the dark.
***
Sam only got a few hours of sleep, his dreams full of disturbing, erotic images. Bodies twisting together, blood, fire. Always fire. He spent the rest of the morning doing research on the succubus.
"So what's the verdict, Brainiac?" Dean asked when he walked out of the bathroom, freshly showered.
"I have a few leads." Sam looked over his notes again. "In the sixteenth century, a carving of a succubus outside an inn indicated that the establishment was also a brothel. But I think that these places were actually the succubus' lair."
"What do you mean?" Dean leaned down so that he could read over Sam's shoulder, his wet hair dripping on Sam's neck.
"From what I can find, these places were usually off the beaten path. According to the locals, there were always noises coming from inside like it was always busy, but everyone in town knew to stay away."
Dean sighed. "Meaning?"
"I don't think there were actually people in there. I think these lairs were enchanted to keep people away except for those that the succubus wanted to lure there."
"Okay, then." Dean straightened and walked over to his duffel bag. "So, all we have to do is find a place with a succubus carving out front," he said sarcastically.
Sam smiled. "I'm way ahead of you."
"What?" Dean walked back over to where Sam was sitting, a skeptical look on his face. "You're kidding me."
"Not at all. I've been going through old news stories, looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary, and I came across this." He pulled up the news article he'd found.
"The Shattered Prayer," Dean said. "Nice. But what makes you think this is the place?"
"A few years back someone raised a big stink about the place, wanted it condemned. As it turned out, nobody could find out who owned the building or the land, so ownership reverted back to the town."
"And?"
"The motion to have the building condemned and torn down was unanimously defeated."
"Okay." Dean clapped his hands together. "Let's roll out."
Sam closed his computer, and then looked over at his brother. "Uh, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Pants?"
Dean looked down at the towel still wrapped around his waist. "Pants. Right."
***
They pulled up and parked right in front of the tavern, despite Sam's suggestion that they park down the road a little ways.
"Silver bullets and holy water. Check and check," Dean said as they got out of the car. "I thought you said this place was deserted, Sam."
Sam's stomach clenched a little at the statement. "It is. Dean. It is deserted."
But Dean wasn't listening to him, he was already at the door and Sam had to jog to catch up with him.
"Dean."
"Holy shit. Where did all these people come from?"
Sam looked around the dark room, confused as to what his brother was talking about. Boards covered up the windows, and there were cobwebs everywhere. There were cracked mirrors behind the bar, and dusty shards of broken glass covered the floor. "Dean, there's nobody here." Something was wrong. He'd obviously missed something in his research. "I think we should go."
"I think you should stay."
Sam squinted through the darkness to see a woman coming down a narrow staircase he hadn't noticed before.
"I've been waiting to meet you, Dean."
"Really?" Dean had that stupid grin on his face, and it was enough that the overwhelming urge to punch him cut through Sam's concern.
The woman stepped into the room, and Sam was able to get a clearer look at her. She had long, dark hair and dark eyes, sultry curves and large black wings that stretched out behind her.
"I'm Dean," Dean said.
She smiled. "I know."
Dean turned to Sam, still grinning stupidly. "She knows who I am."
"Oh, good." Sam pulled out his gun and took aim, and suddenly his wrist burned, shooting a lightning crack of pain up his arm. His gun fell from his numb fingers and he looked down stupidly to see the end of a forked tongue unwrap from his arm and shoot back across the room.
"Dean and I were having a conversation, Sam."
Sam flexed his fingers, but he couldn't feel anything, and Dean was walking away from him. A sudden panic clenched at the center of his chest. "Dean! We have to go!"
"I'll catch up with you later, Sam." He didn't even turn around.
Sheer terror threatened to overwhelm Sam for one endless moment before his years of training kicked in. He grabbed the switchblade he always carried on him with his good hand and lunged forward, slicing Dean's shoulder.
Dean stopped instantly, his hand going up to the wound as he turned to look at Sam.
"We have to go," Sam said. Then he threw himself at Dean, knocking him off his feet as the forked tongue shot past his head. "Now."
"Right." Dean scrambled to his feet and sprinted towards the door.
Pain shot through Sam's arm again as he tried to push himself up, and he stumbled and tripped, and the succubus was laughing behind him.
"Don't worry, Sam. You're not much use to me. But I'll tell Jessica you said hi."
Sam froze, unable to breathe or think. All he could feel was fear and pain. Then there were arms around him, Dean's voice saying something, but Sam couldn't make out the words, and they were outside, then in the car and they were driving away.
"Sam? Sammy?"
Dean sounded concerned.
"I'm really fucking tired of those things bringing up Jess," Sam said, and he closed his eyes and everything was dark and cold.
***
"Oh my god," Sam groaned. His head, shoulder, arm and wrist all throbbed painfully when he tried to move. "What happened?"
"I think it was some kind of venom, used to paralyze her victims. Can you move your hand?"
Sam sucked in a breath as he wiggled his fingers and needles of agony flared up and down his arm before dying back down to a dull throbbing. He cracked his eyes open, and saw that they were back in the motel room. "Yeah," he finally said. "I think it's starting to wear off."
"Good. I need you to clean this up." Dean turned, and Sam saw that he still had the same shirt on, his shoulder caked with blood.
"Dean." Sam sat up, wincing a little, but everything had settled into more of a bearable ache. "What happened?"
Dean raised an eyebrow. "You're the one that did it, bro."
"Yeah, I know that," Sam said, a little exasperated. "I'm talking about why I had to do it." One of the first lessons their father had taught them was that pain would break most kinds of enchantments for short periods of time. He leaned forward. "What I want to know is why you were completely under her thrall."
"You know how much I love our heart-to-hearts, Sammy, but my shoulder's starting to hurt a little. Do you think it could wait?"
Sam sighed. He knew he wasn't going to get any answers from Dean until Dean was good and ready. "Sure. Let's go in the bathroom." He grabbed the first aid kit and followed Dean into the room that was barely big enough for one of them.
Dean was straddling the toilet and staring off into space, his body completely tense.
"I, uh. I think this T-shirt is a lost cause." Sam pulled out his switchblade again, marveling a little that he actually still had it with him, and sliced Dean's shirt straight down the back. He peeled the material away from the wound slowly, wincing a little at the places where it was stuck, but Dean didn't flinch or move at all.
Sam wet a wash cloth and cleaned the wound, glad to see that his training hadn't failed him. The cut he'd made was long, but shallow, and required nothing more than a few butterfly bandages.
When he was done, Dean stood and walked past Sam, out of the bathroom without saying a word. Sam followed him out to find Dean sitting on the bed checking the clip of his gun.
"Dean--" Sam floundered, not quite sure what to make of his brother's uncharacteristic silence. "We need to talk. I need to know what happened back there." But Dean didn't answer him. He didn't even acknowledge that Sam had spoken.
It hit Sam, then. That maybe it wasn't Dean. That maybe he was the one that messed up. Had he actually been the one under the succubus' thrall?
"I'm sorry."
Dean looked up at that.
Sam ran his fingers through his hair and looked away. "I screwed up. I must have missed something. I must have-- What did I do?"
"Sam. Shit." Dean shook his head. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why--"
"I'm a virgin," Dean said over him.
Sam stood there blinking for several long moments. "What?"
"I'm a virgin, and I swear to god if you laugh I will shoot you in the head right now." As if to prove he was serious, he leveled his gun at Sam's head.
"I wasn't going to laugh," Sam promised, holding his hands up.
"Right."
"Dean." Sam shook his head. "Jessica was the only girl I ever had sex with. And we were dating for almost a year before that happened."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "You swear?"
Sam drew an 'x' across his chest with his index finger.
"Why did you wait that long?" Dean asked, lowering his arm a little.
"Honestly? The thought of it kind of scared the hell out of me. Demons, ghosts, hellbeasts, I can face. A naked girl?" Sam shook his head.
Dean finally smiled at that.
"Okay." Sam took a deep breath and then let it out when Dean finally set the gun down. "So, well. That's good. At least now we know the problem."
"First of all, thanks for that," Dean said sarcastically. "But I'm really more concerned about the solution at the moment."
"Yeah. Well, I guess the obvious solution is to get you laid."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Thank God for all that fancy college learnin'. Should we just go get a hooker? Or do you think, 'Hey, would you mind terribly if I banged you so that I won't be vulnerable to the succubus that's preying on the town's virgin men?' would work with one of the local girls?"
"No." Sam rubbed the back of his neck. Neither of those solutions sat well with him. Dean's first time shouldn't be with a prostitute, and while a one-night stand with a local girl wasn't a terrible idea, Sam had seen Dean with girls, and with his newfound insight, Sam knew there was no way Dean was going to be able to seduce one in the time that they had.
"No," Dean agreed, pacing back and forth. "So tell me, Professor. Who am I supposed to have all this sex with?"
"Me," Sam said without thinking.
Dean froze. "What?"
And Sam really wasn't sure, out of the two of them, who was more surprised. He had no idea what had possessed him to make the suggestion in the first place, though it was the most practical, if a bit unorthodox a solution. "Uh. Yeah. Well, it's the easiest way of dealing with, y'know." He waved his hand. "It."
"Tempting an offer as that is, Sammy, I'm afraid I'll have to pass. There's got to be another way." He resumed his pacing. "What if you went in alone? You're as trained as I am. You could handle her."
Relief flooded through Sam as he looked down at his bandaged wrist. Practical solution or no, he wasn't sure he could go through with sleeping with his brother. "I could try--"
"No," Dean cut him off immediately. "Are you crazy? She almost killed you last time. There's no way I'm letting you take that risk. I guess we could just leave."
"If you think--"
"We can't just leave, Sam. Or do you want to be the one to tell Cat that we could get her boyfriend back, but we decided not to?"
"No," Sam said slowly.
"I didn't think so." Dean stood there for a moment, his hands on his hips and then sighed. "So, theoretically speaking, exactly how much sex do you think we'd have to have?"
***
"Do we really need a checklist?"
Sam ignored him and kept writing. When he had what he felt was a fairly comprehensive list of sexual acts, he turned back to Dean. "Look, this is the easiest way to make sure that we have all our bases covered and to keep it--"
"Professional?" Dean quirked an eyebrow. "And this would in no way be an exercise in humiliation?"
"Yeah, Dean." Sam snapped, letting his anger get the better of him. "I'm having a great time. This is just how I wanted to spend my day. Making a list of ways I get to fuck my brother. It's like a dream come true."
Dean swallowed and looked away. "I'm sorry. This just..."
"I know," Sam said quietly.
"Okay." Dean clapped his hands together. "First question."
"Okay. Have you, um. Have you ever given and/or received oral sex?"
Dean's forehead wrinkled. "You mean like over the phone?"
"Oh." Sam blinked down at his list and started to panic. He couldn't do this. He couldn't sit there and explain every sex act to his brother.
"I'm joking, genius," Dean finally said. "I know what oral sex is. And, um. Yeah. No."
Sam made a check in the 'no' column next to 'oral sex'. "Okay, have you ever received a handjob? From someone else, that is."
Dean gave him a dirty look.
"Okay, uh."
"Look, can we just--" Dean grabbed the list away from him. "No, no, no. Only in my dreams. Almost, one time. No. I'm not even sure what that is." He looked up. "Have you done everything on this list, Sam?"
Sam shifted uncomfortably and said, "I wanted to be thorough."
"Man. You're a geek about everything, aren't you?" He tossed the list back at Sam. "It's all 'no', Sam."
"Have you ever kissed anyone?"
Dean looked away, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, well, a little of that probably wouldn't hurt either."
"Right." Sam stared down at the list and wondered once again if they were really going to go through with it.
"Huh."
Sam jumped and looked up, surprised to find Dean reading over his shoulder. "What?"
"I don't know, that's just. That's a whole lot of sex. Do you think, I mean, am I going to have to, uh, come each time?"
"I don't know," Sam admitted.
"Yeah, well." Dean walked over to the dresser and grabbed his jacket. "I'll be back."
"Wait. Where are you going?"
"Provisions."
"Provisions?"
Dean nodded. "If we're actually going to do seven through twelve on that list, I'm going to need provisions."
"Provisions." Sam looked back down at the list. "Right. Good idea."
***
Dean was gone longer than Sam expected, which gave Sam more time to think than he really wanted. He still wasn't sure if he could do this, but how could he not? His mind went in circles. What else could they do? There was nothing else. Who else could Dean sleep with? Sam was all Dean had.
He jumped as the door to the motel suddenly flew open.
"I have returned," Dean announced, his arm wrapped around a paper bag full of stuff. He kicked the door shut behind him, and Sam went over to make sure it was locked.
"What did you get?" He asked as Dean started to unpack.
"Potato chips, red vines, some ding dongs. Hey, have you ever tried these?" He held up a bag of Wasabi Funions.
"Those are your provisions?" Sam asked, incredulous.
"Well, I couldn't just go up to the counter with this," he said, tossing something at Sam.
Sam caught it and looked down. "Wow. I didn't know they sold lube at the grocery store."
"Well, now you know."
"And knowing is half the battle," Sam said automatically. He set the bottle down on the nightstand and sat down on the bed. The reality of what they were going to do suddenly hit home. "Oh god."
"And this."
Sam looked up to see Dean standing in front of him, holding a bottle of whiskey.
"You should have been a boy scout." He took the bottle and took a generous shot before handing it back to Dean. The whiskey hit his stomach like a firebomb, but did little to relieve his tension.
Dean took a shot as well before setting it on the nightstand. "Always be prepared."
"So, uh." Sam stood up, and Dean was actually standing closer than Sam had anticipated. He felt stupid and awkward, and really wished that he could follow Dean's lead in this as he always had with everything else.
"Let's get this party started?"
"Yeah. Something like that."
They stood there, then, staring at each other, and Sam knew that he was going to have to be the one to take the lead this time. He made a concentrated effort to repress everything he was feeling. All the awkward, nervous, uncomfortable thoughts. If he was going to be able to do this at all, he had to stop thinking. Mind over matter. Or body over mind, in this case. "I guess we should kiss?"
Dean just nodded like he was willing to go along with whatever Sam said. So Sam closed his eyes and leaned in, and Dean must have done the same thing, because their faces crashed together somewhat painfully.
"Okay," Sam said, rubbing his nose.
Dean took another shot of whiskey.
"We'll try that again." He tilted his head, keeping his eyes open this time, which was way more disconcerting. Dean was watching him with an odd sort of fascination, like this was the most twisted science experiment ever, and it was making Sam a little self-conscious.
The kiss was weird, a dry press of lips. They stayed there for a moment, mouths firmly closed, lips pressed together, watching each other cross-eyed. Sam pulled away a little, and tried again, puckering his lips a little more, and pulling away with a smack, as if he were a three year-old kissing his grandmother goodnight.
Dean just stood there watching him.
This was stupid. Sam knew how to kiss. He was actually quite good at it, and just because he was kissing someone he'd never planned to kiss didn't mean that he still didn't know the correct technique.
"Okay," he said again, and brought his hand up.
"Whoa." Dean flinched away. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to kiss you properly," Sam said forcefully.
"Well, well, Rhett. Do you think I just go around kissing--"
"Dean!" Sam snapped, annoyed.
Dean threw up his hands. "It's weird!"
"Well, it's not going to get less weird, so shut up and let me do this."
"Fine."
"Thank you." Sam gave Dean another dirty look for good measure, and licked his lips. "Just-- Just try and relax a little."
Dean nodded, and didn't flinch away when Sam brought his hand up to cup the side of Dean's face. He stroked his thumb over Dean's cheek for a moment, then leaned in, his eyelids sliding shut. Sam kept his lips parted a little as he covered Dean's mouth, sucking at Dean's lower lip a little as he pulled away.
"Oh," Dean whispered.
Then they were kissing again, and just like that and Sam was achingly hard, dizzy. Hot, wet and dirty kisses, sucking, licking, a little biting. Dean's hands were on Sam's ass, and the bed hit the back of Sam's knees half a second before he was flat on his back, his lip bleeding a little because Dean had bitten him when they fell.
It changed then, synched up somehow, and the kisses went from weird and frantic to something else entirely. Everything slowed down, like they were underwater. Sam felt like he was outside of himself, watching them move and twine together, like lovers. It took him awhile to realize that they were making-out. Long, slow kisses, his tongue sliding against Dean's, and Dean tasted burning like whiskey, and a little bittersweet, like he'd had chocolate on the way back. For a moment, Sam wondered if Dean had brought a candy bar for him too.
The thought was lost as Dean's hand slipped under Sam's shirt, his hot, callused fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. Sam shuddered and clenched at Dean's T-shirt as he tried to pull Dean closer. He wanted to feel Dean's weight on top of him, pressing him down. He wanted something to make this more solid and real, to make sure it wasn't a dream. He wanted something to focus on so that he wouldn't have to think.
Dean pulled away a little and moved down to kiss Sam's neck, and Jesus, for having no experience, Dean certainly seemed to know all the places to touch that made Sam gasp.
"You sure you haven't done this before?" Sam asked, a little embarrassed at how uneven his voice was.
Dean laughed low, short hot breaths against Sam's neck. "I'm fairly certain I would have remembered doing this."
The dark, rough need in Dean's voice shot through Sam like lightning, straight to his cock. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so turned-on, which was starting to panic him. He was enjoying this, and it couldn't all be just physical. He was enjoying it because it was Dean.
"C'mon, Sammy. Don't start freaking on me," Dean whispered. "I need you."
At that, Sam stopped trying to untwist his mind and gave himself up entirely to the perverse desire to make sure that Dean never said that to anyone else. He tugged at Dean's shirt until Dean got the idea, and batted Sam's hands away so that he could pull it off himself and toss it over his shoulder. Dean leaned back down to claim Sam's mouth again, settling his body more firmly between Sam's thighs.
Sam ran his hands over Dean's back as they kissed, marveling at the feel of the smooth lines of muscle. Dean had always been strong, the way he walked, moved, always conveying a sense of power that Sam never felt in himself. That nobody else had ever wanted to touch that power, to be a part of it in some small way, stunned Sam. He had wanted to be part of it since he could remember, he just never thought it'd be like this.
Dean sat up suddenly, pushing Sam's shirt up his body. "Off," he said. "Now."
Usually, when Dean ordered Sam around, it was obnoxious, but obviously the normal rules no longer applied, because all Sam could do was say, "H'okay!" as he scrambled to comply.
Sam moved back until he was fully on the bed and Dean crawled after him, but stopped before covering Sam's body with his own again. Instead, his eyes trailed down Sam's chest, and his hands settled on Sam's thighs. Sam's hips bucked involuntarily, and Dean grinned wolfishly in response.
Dean's hands moved to Sam's fly and Sam could feel his whole body start to shake.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting ready to cross number one off the list," Dean said as he pulled Sam's jeans down over his hips. "If that's okay?"
Sam nodded. "No teeth."
"Yeah, thanks," Dean said as he pulled Sam's boxers down.
Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath to prepare himself and was shocked by the sudden wet heat that engulfed him.
"Jesus!" He bolted upright, his cock slipping out of Dean's mouth.
Dean licked his lips and had the gall to give Sam an annoyed look. "Which one of us is the virgin again?"
"Just--" Sam flopped back down on the bed. "Warn me next time."
"Okay." Dean grabbed Sam's hips, pressing down. "I'm going to suck your dick now."
Sam tried to tell himself that he wasn't turned on by that, but his body didn't seem to agree. His hips bucked again, except that Dean was holding him down, and Sam couldn't move.
Then the wet heat returned, sloppy and teasing, definitely inexperienced, but god it had been so long. Sam dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He couldn't watch, couldn't handle the sight of Dean's lips wrapped around him, pink and obscene and enthusiastic. It was too much to admit to, to be as hard as he was. The pressure was already building. Sam tried to concentrate on the echo of his own panting breaths, but he couldn't quite block out the dirty, wet noises Dean was making.
White spots started to form behind Sam's eyelids, and he tried to move his hips again, but Dean had him solidly pinned. Sam clutched at the sheets, dizzy with the heady pleasure of being restrained. The thrill of being overpowered was so unexpected that Sam's stomach tightened and he only had enough time to gasp his brother's name before he was coming, way too soon. He threw his arm over his eyes, embarrassed.
Dean pulled off and made a weird snorting-coughing sound. "Jesus, Sam! Speaking of warning a guy!"
"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. Then louder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Is it some sort of biological predisposition that you have to angst about everything?" Dean sounded annoyed.
Sam uncovered his eyes and looked at Dean, his mouth quirked into a half smile, his eyes a dark sea-green color that Sam had never seen before.
"You held me down."
Dean wrinkled his brow.
"I didn't--" Sam cleared his throat. "I didn't expect to like. That." Which, if the cocky grin that spread across Dean's face was anything to go by, was the wrong thing to say.
"Liked that, huh?"
Sam nodded as Dean caressed his arms, moving them until he had Sam's wrists crossed, pinned above his head.
"I could get used to that," Dean whispered.
It was too easy, Sam thought as Dean's body settled against his. Too easy to forget that this was for a purpose, and that they were brothers, not lovers. He tested Dean's grip, and started getting hard again when he was unable to break it.
Dean just grinned again, leaning in to gently bite Sam's neck. "I never would have pegged you for such a bottom, Sammy." Then he pulled back and licked his lips. "No, wait. I take that back. You're a total bottom."
Sam tried to be annoyed--should have been, since Dean was being completely obnoxious--except that it was apparently true. Dean squeezed Sam's a little harder, stinging pain shooting up from Sam's bandaged wrist, and Sam got harder. He quit trying to rationalize and gave himself over completely to the sensations.
"So." Sam gave Dean a defiant look. "Are you going to fuck me or what?"
"Jesus." Dean shut his eyes, his grip tightening even more, and just like that, Sam had the upper hand again.
He grinned. "Did you almost come in your pants?"
"Shut up," Dean said as he sat up. "And turn over."
Sam complied, flipping onto his stomach. He turned to watch as Dean stood up and shucked his pants. He wondered how many new levels of 'This is not real' he could reach as Dean crawled back onto the bed.
"Oh god." Sam shuddered as Dean kissed the small of his back and then licked a hot, wet trail up the length of Sam's spine.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Dean asked, his voice low and rough.
Sam nodded. "Just... Go slow."
Dean moved away, and when Sam turned to look at him, his expression was oddly serious.
"I would die before I hurt you, Sam."
"I know." Sam took a deep, shuddering breath, his stomach clenching at the dark intensity of Dean's gaze. "I know that."
Dean leaned down again, pressing tiny kisses across Sam's shoulders.
Sam closed his eyes and tried to relax, sink into himself as Dean continued to explore his body. Soft kisses and gentle fingers trailed down his spine, past his waist, just a ghost of a touch before Dean's mouth was back at Sam's neck--hot, insistent, sucking kisses.
Then Dean was gone, and Sam shivered as he heard Dean opening the bottle of lube. He didn't turn around, but the picture was vivid in his mind's eye--Dean kneeling behind him, slowly stroking his cock, preparing himself.
The thought made Sam's cock throb in anticipation, and he shifted his hips, needing friction, something to focus on. He jumped two seconds later when Dean grabbed his hips, pulling until Sam was kneeling up on all fours. Sam stayed like that as Dean's hands left him again, his head hanging down between his shoulders as he focused on breathing. Panting. Whatever.
"Okay," Dean whispered, and Sam couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement, so he nodded, just to be sure.
Saw twitched a little at the first press of Dean's finger, slick and insistent. Dean worked it in so slowly as to be almost unbearable before he added a second one.
"How are--I mean, what, how did--?"
"Just because I haven't done this doesn't mean I've never watched porn. I know what to do. Sort of."
"You were watching gay porn?"
"Shut up, Sammy."
Sam tried to relax, he did, it didn't hurt but the odd stretch on Dean's fingers made this so real. He missed them, though, when Dean pulled them back.
The blunt head of Dean's cock pressed against Sam's opening, then in, and Sam sucked in a sharp breath against the pain. Dean froze, his fingers digging into Sam's hips. Then he moved his hands to stroke down Sam's back, over his sides.
Sam kept his eyes closed, head down as he took several deep breaths and tried to relax. This was Dean, and Dean would never hurt him, and it would be okay. By the time he was finished with his mental litany, the pain had subsided somewhat. It occurred to Sam, as Dean's hands stroked down his sides once more, that Dean was trying to comfort him. Dean's body was trembling, and Sam could only imagine what it was costing him to stay still at the moment.
"M'okay," Sam said, pressing his hips back experimentally. The pain that he'd initially felt didn't return. It was actually almost kind of not too bad. "Kay, go."
Dean snorted and started moving, slow and steady, his breath hissing through his teeth, until his body was flush against Sam's. Then he stopped again, and Sam felt weirdly raw and aware. His skin tingled in the places Dean had touched him, and he could feel Dean's cock throbbing inside of him.
An odd, restless pressure started to build at the base of Sam's spine, sending pulses through his body, the promise of pleasure, and Dean still wasn't moving.
"Dean," Sam said as he tried to shift his hips. He needed something, to act in some way, or for Dean to, maybe.
"Fuck." Dean started to slide out. "Sam."
Sam nodded and groaned at Dean's slow thrust inside him. He leaned down until he was resting on his elbows, his hips tilted up and when Dean moved against him again, something exploded behind Sam's eyes. "Fucking hell, do that again!"
Dean seemed to pick up a rhythm, then, a little quicker, more forceful and Sam angled his hips until Dean was hitting that spot every time.
"Sammy." Dean's voice was almost unrecognizable. Low and gritty and dirty in a way Sam hadn't expected.
Sam twisted his hands in the sheets beneath him. "Yeah. God, Dean." Pressure wound tight through the center of Sam's body, and he reached down and grabbed his cock, stroking it roughly as Dean sped up. So close. So close.
Without any warning, Dean's hand covered Sam's, his thumb rubbing once over the head of Sam's cock, and that was all it took.
Sam's body shook as he came, too intense with Dean still fucking him, pushing against that spot until the pleasure bordered on pain. Just when Sam thought he couldn't stand it anymore, Dean was coming. Over him, inside him, and Sam added that to the long mental list of things he never thought he'd enjoy before slumping fully onto the bed, Dean's weight heavy and welcome on top of him.
Time passed in a weird, fluctuating state until Dean asked, "How do you feel?"
"Uh." Sam took stock of everything before answering. His skin had mostly stopped tingling, and he wasn't seeing spots anymore, so that was probably good. He was also on top of a wet spot, which was a little uncomfortable. "Sticky."
"Me too," Dean said after a moment.
Sam turned then, but Dean's eyes were closed, his expression unreadable. "Shower?"
Dean's eyes fluttered open, and he gave Sam an annoyed look. "Together?"
"It would hardly be the weirdest thing we've done today." Sam rolled out of the bed and tried not to look as self-conscious as he felt standing there naked in front of Dean. "Are you coming?"
"Not again any time soon," Dean muttered as he stood up.
Sam hesitated at the bathroom door, and then turned on the light. He studied himself in the mirror under the unflattering florescent glow, unsure of what he was expecting to find. Nothing had changed on the surface to reflect the turmoil of everything inside. He wasn't sure if that was a comfort or not.
Dean hadn't followed Sam into the bathroom, so Sam left the door open and went to the shower to turn the water on. When it was as hot as he could stand it, he stepped in. Closed his eyes and let the water wash over him until he felt Dean's presence in front of him.
"Sam." Dean stood there, his expression a curious shade of determined, and this was weird. God it was weird. "Here."
Sam looked down to see Dean holding a washcloth. "Thanks." For lack of anything better to do, he took it and grabbed the bar of soap of the shelf, turning it over and over in the washcloth until Dean grabbed it from him.
"It's soapy," Dean said, his irritation obvious.
For a man who just got laid, you're pretty pissy, Sam thought, though he managed to bite back the comment. Instead, he swiped the soapy washcloth over his arms, then his chest, down his stomach, up his ribs.
When he looked up, Dean was just standing there, watching him and he looked pissed. So Sam handed him the washcloth and said, "Get my back." He turned and waited.
It seemed like an eternity before Sam felt the rough swipe of the cloth across his shoulders, then over his back. Dean's hand closed over Sam's hip as he ran the washcloth down Sam's spine, down past his waist, and then--
"I can't."
The washcloth dropped to the floor with a plop, and Sam turned to see Dean's eyes squeeze shut.
Sam bent over, picked up the cloth and rinsed it out. He lathered it up again and then pushed Dean under the stream of water. Dean was half-hard again as Sam ran the washcloth over his body.
"Sam." Dean pushed Sam's arm away as the washcloth dipped below his waist.
"Yeah?" Sam dropped the washcloth and grabbed the soap, working lather up in his hand.
"Don't"
"Don't what?" Sam wrapped his soapy fingers around Dean's cock, stroking slowly as Dean got harder. "You want me to leave so that you can beat off alone?"
"No. Yes." Dean thrust into Sam's hand. "Fuck."
Sam stepped away from Dean's body so that the water hit him, rinsing away all the suds. Then he dropped to his knees.
"Sam," Dean said again. "Don't." Even as he said it, his fingers threaded through Sam's wet hair.
Sam ignored him as he bent his head down. He tried to remember all the things he liked, then he figured, It's Dean's first blowjob. He'll like it no matter what. and took the head of Dean's cock into his mouth and sucked.
"FUCK!"
Sam moved his mouth down as far as he could go without gagging and then pulled back. He wrapped his hand around the base of Dean's cock and moved it up and down in counterpoint to his mouth. Despite having received quite a few of them, Sam really had no idea what he was doing. He pulled back and then licked over the head, taking in the taste and texture, weird but not bad. He licked over it again, and Dean made encouraging noises above him.
"Sam, Sam, Sam," Dean chanted as Sam sucked and licked and did everything he could think of to drive Dean out of his mind. His own cock was hot and hard, and Sam used his free hand to reach between his legs, refusing to think about the fact that he was getting off on sucking his brother.
Then Dean was tugging at his hair hard enough to hurt, and Sam pulled off just in time. He stroked Dean through his orgasm, momentarily neglecting his own erection to watch Dean's face as he came.
Before Sam could finish himself off, Dean pulled him to his feet and shoved him against the shower wall.
"Wha--"
Dean cut him off with a violent kiss, which was okay because Sam wasn't really sure how he'd planned to finish the sentence. So he kissed Dean back, gripping at his shoulders as Dean jerked him off, almost too hard, just this side of perfect, and Sam came with Dean's tongue in his mouth, stealing away every thought except Dean and God and yes.
The water turned cold, a sudden shock against Sam's back and he was glad he'd already come, because it was enough to kill any lingering desire. They finished rinsing off quickly and jumped out of the shower.
Neither of them looked at each other as they dried off. The studiously ignored each other as they went back into the room and dug through their bags to find clean boxers. It wasn't until they went to go to bed that they both stopped.
Sam's bed was good as destroyed, sheets twisted and stained. He turned to look at Dean, and Dean's clean, still-made bed.
"Yeah, okay. Come on," Dean said as he turned down the sheets. "I mean, no big deal now, right?"
"Right." Sam crawled into bed without saying anything else. He was completely unable to gauge Dean's mood, and therefore didn't know what to do to fix it, or avoid it, or whatever.
Luckily, the day had taken its toll on Sam's energy, and he fell asleep before Dean had a chance to turn out the light.
***
The morning light had just started to creep into the room when Sam woke up. Still early, then, but Sam was surprised at how long he'd actually slept. It had been awhile since he'd been able to sleep through the night. Dean was still asleep next to him, on his back, one hand behind his head, the other spread out low on his stomach.
Sam's gaze trailed over Dean's body, taking in the various battle scars Dean had acquired over the years. There had been a time when Sam could name them all. The jagged one down his left side was from a werewolf in Minnesota, the shallow one across his abdomen from a poltergeist in Georgia, the circular one on his right arm was from a harpy in California. The more recent ones Sam knew, too. He could see them all, even the invisible ones. It was amazing how quickly the bruise from a blast of rock salt to the chest faded.
There was a sort of star-shaped one on Dean's left shoulder that Sam didn't recognize.
He reached out to trace over the smooth, raised skin.
"Bar fight in Nevada," Dean said, making Sam jump. "You should've seen the other guy."
"Oh."
Dean rolled out of bed before Sam could say anything else.
"Let's get this over with, shall we?" Dean called over his shoulder as he walked towards the bathroom.
"Yeah. Sure." Sam let his hand drop to the bed, onto the warm spot where Dean had just been. He stroked his fingers over the cheap cotton for a moment before pushing himself out of bed so that he could get dressed.
***
"You ready?" Dean asked as they sat outside the succubus' lair. They were the first words Dean had spoken since they woke up.
Sam just nodded.
They pulled their weapons from the trunk. Knives, guns with silver bullets, vials of holy water.
"What's that?" Sam asked as Dean pulled something else out.
"Flame thrower." Dean slammed the trunk shut and started towards the door, making Sam jog to catch up.
The place looked the same as it had the day before, but this time she was waiting for them, a smug look on her face.
"I must admit, I didn't think you had it in you," she said. Then she burst into flames.
"Go see if he's upstairs, Sam," Dean said. Then he fired a round of silver bullets into the succubus' flaming body.
Sam ran passed her, upstairs. There was nothing in the room but a huge bed, and on it her latest victim, looking drugged and sated.
"Mark?" Sam asked as he moved to get an arm beneath the guy.
"Yeah?"
"Time to go home." Sam pulled Mark into a sitting position, then tried to pull him out of the bed. "Come on, buddy. Help me out here."
"I don't wanna go," Mark said.
"Trust me," Sam said as smoke billowed up into the room. "You really do."
Dean ran into the room, and between the two of them, they managed to get Mark down the stairs and outside, into the Impala.
As soon as they got him situated, Dean turned back, as if to go back inside. Sam slammed his arm across Dean's chest to stop him.
"What the hell?"
"Let me go, Sam. I want to make sure she's dead."
Sam looked behind him. The building had caught fire quickly, and was already collapsing in on itself. "You set her on fire and then shot her. She's dead, Dean."
"Shit. Fuck!" Dean turned and kicked the tire of his car.
"Dean, what is going on?" Sam asked. Dean kicking the car was a bad sign. He liked that car more than he liked most people, and Dean generally liked people.
"That wasn't...It wasn't violent enough."
Sam snorted. "What did you want to do? Rip her still-beating heart out of her chest? Or just kick her a lot?"
Dean ran his hand through his hair and sighed as he watched the flames. "Yeah. Something like that."
"Why are you taking this so personally?"
Dean turned on Sam so fast that Sam didn't realize what happened until he was pinned against the car with Dean's knee wedged between his thighs. For a moment, Sam thought Dean was going to kiss him, but when Dean leaned in, it was to whisper, "It doesn't get more personal than this, Sammy."
Sam had no idea how to respond, didn't even have a chance before Dean was shoving him away.
"We've got to get Mark to the hospital," Dean said as he walked around to the driver's side of the car.
"Yeah. Okay." Sam nodded and slid into the passenger's seat.
***
They didn't talk to each other on the way back. Not when they dropped Mark off at the hospital, not when they talked to the police or the doctors. By the time they made it back to the motel room, Sam was wound so tight he felt like he was going to fly apart. Dean just simmered next to him, his rage palpable because this whole thing was apparently going to be Sam's fault.
"Look," Sam said as he shut the motel room door behind him. "We did what we had to do to get the job done. Just like we were trained." But Dean didn't answer him. "I can't believe you're mad at me for this!"
Dean just shook his head.
"It was just a job!"
"It was not just a goddamn job, Sam!" Dean yelled. "Our goddamn job has never turned me into a fucking pervert!"
"We did what we had to do, Dean," Sam said again.
"No." Dean closed his eyes. "It's not-- I enjoyed it, Sam." He sounded so tortured.
Sam gave a huff of laughter and sat down on the edge of the bed. "It was sex. You're kind of supposed to enjoy it. You can't beat yourself up about that."
Dean turned his back on Sam, braced his hands on the dresser and said, "No," again.
"No what?" Sam asked, exasperated.
"It was you."
Sam wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly. "What?"
"It was you, Sam." Dean turned back to face him. "I wanted you. Want. I still do." He shut his eyes again. "I didn't know. Not until... I'm sorry."
"Dean." Sam let it sink in, and he thought he should be more surprised, except that he felt the same way. He stood up and walked over to Dean, reached out and ran his fingers over Dean's lips. "I want it, too."
"Don't." Dean grabbed his wrist. "We can't do this."
"Why? It's not like you're gonna get me pregnant."
The corners of Dean's mouth twitched at that. "That's not funny."
"It's a little funny." Sam smiled and leaned in, brushing his mouth over Dean's.
"I'm serious, Sam." Dean shoved him away. "We can't do this. It isn't right."
"What the hell in our lives is right?" Sam asked.
"That's not the point."
"Then let's make it the point." Sam ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Say this thing ended tomorrow. Say Dad calls and says he got the thing that killed mom. What are you gonna do? You gonna get a nine to five job? A pretty little wife and a house with a white picket fence?"
"You know I'm not," Dean said quietly. "That doesn't mean that you can't."
"I already tried!" It was Sam's turn to shout. "It didn't work. Do you really think I just ignored every mysterious death in my area?"
Dean looked surprised by the question.
Sam laughed. "I tried, Dean. But the stuff we know, it's stuff you can't unlearn. We are never going to have a normal life. This is it. For both of us." He sighed and shrugged. "So the way I see it, we've got a choice. You can become the womanizer you've always pretended to be. Or we can have this."
"You’ve given this some thought," Dean said quietly, giving Sam an odd look.
"Not really." Sam flopped down on the bed, covering his eyes with his arm. "It's just. I don't want to give you up," he said helplessly. Then added, "It didn't feel wrong at the time."
The bed dipped next to Sam's side, and when Sam looked up, Dean was hovering over him.
"You would have made a hell of a lawyer, Sammy."
"Thanks."
Dean leaned down then, kissed Sam long and slow and with total possession. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders and gave himself over to it. He hadn't lied before-- nothing about this felt wrong. In fact, for the first time that Sam could remember, he felt exactly right.
When Dean pulled away, his lips were red and swollen, and he was smiling strangely. "You know we can't tell Dad about this, right?"
Sam laughed, his whole body shaking with the combination of amusement, shock and giddy relief. "Yeah. I can just imagine how well that particular conversation would go."
Dean started snickering with him, then rolled over until he was on his back next to Sam, and they were both laughing hysterically at the thought of having "The Conversation" with their father.
"Oh, man," Dean said as they started to calm down. "We are so fucked up." Which, of course, set them both off again.
When they'd both finally settled down, Dean turned to face Sam, his expression semi-serious. "Don't be expecting, like, flowers and shit."
"Why?" Sam asked. "You're apparently expecting me to grow a vagina."
Dean wrinkled his nose. "Please don't." He held his hand up before Sam could protest. "I know, I know. I get your point. But, you know. If you found someone. A girl you wanted to settle down with someday, that'd be okay. We'll always be brothers."
Sam nodded. He didn't tell Dean that he knew this was it, the way he knew which dreams were real, and which were just nightmares. Instead he leaned in and brushed his lips against Dean's and whispered, "Thank you."
"The chick flick rule still stands," Dean said.
"Right." Sam rolled his eyes. "How 'bout you suck my cock, then?"
Dean grinned and threw his leg over Sam's hips so that he was straddling his body. "Now that's my boy."
The End