Supernatural fic, Bruises of the Body, Heart and Soul, NC-17, Sam/Dean
Title: Bruises of the Body, Heart and Soul
Author: lissa_ann
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean aren't real, right? Then neither is this story. CW and Kripke own all, including my heart.
Summary: One would think that it would be safe to go from the bar to the Impala without a problem in Elkhart, Indiana.
Warnings: attempted non-con (mostly non-graphic), violence, wincest
Word Count: 3,816
A/N: This story is for the wonderful slynkyqueen who bid on me for the help_haiti project. This is the first of two stories for her. She asked for Sam/Dean, Sam gets attacked and Dean rescues him with cuddling at the end. Hope you enjoy, sweetheart!
A/N: Random, but Elkhart, Indiana is a shout out to one of my other fandoms, Quantum Leap.
The fight against the chupacabra took a little longer than they had expected. It moved faster through the forest than they had ever seen. But Sam had finally impaled it with no one the wiser.
They decided to stick around for a few days, take a break, catch their breath. The motel was cheap and with Dean planning to hustle pool, they could afford it. They could both put the case behind them with a few drinks.
It was their usual kind of place - bikers and townies, small-town bar. Dean started off with beer and quickly graduated to tequila shots. Knowing that one of them needed to be able to drive them home, Sam nursed a beer and played a game of pool to show that Dean meant business. He pretended he was a sore loser, accusing Dean of cheating, but most of the patrons thought that Sam was just angry about losing.
Sam sat not far from the pool table, sipping his beer and sulking a little. Dean knew how much he hated just sitting around in bars by himself while Dean kept occupied in several different ways. After about a half hour, he motioned to Dean that he was going outside to the car to get his laptop so that he could do some research, see if there were any omens or signs for them to follow up on in the area. Dean nodded in acknowledgement.
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The man had been sitting quietly in the bar, gulping down drinks and watching everyone. He was easily able to size all the patrons up, studying them to see if there might be any marks. He was somewhat of a regular, but none of the people knew anything about him, outside of what he chose to drink.
There were two guys who walked in that he didn't recognize. He eyed them carefully watching how the two moved in an easy rhythm around each other, like they had spent a lot of time together. The shorter one scanned the bar, keeping himself on edge. The taller one followed the other man closely. He raised his eyebrow - the taller one might be someone who could be a target.
While he longed to play pool, he instead decided to keep his eye on the tall man who had seemed to fall back and wait for the man he came in with. He was able to take a good long look at his mark when he made his way up to the bar. He nodded at the man as he placed his order and got a nod back in return. As soon as he got his beer, he headed off to a booth near the exit.
He noticed the tall guy give the other guy a hand signal that he was going out to the parking lot. He was acknowledged and left the building.
He snuck out the side door, the emergency door that wouldn't sound the alarm because it had been broken since he started going there. He stood there, planted, and waited for his mark to come around the corner.
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Sam walked out of the bar and looked up, thrilled to be able to see stars in the clear dark night. Usually, they wound up in towns with so much light pollution; it was difficult, if not impossible to see. He stood for a moment, just breathing in the fresh air. They had made it through another case, alive. That was cause for celebration every time it happened.
Shivering slightly, Sam began to move to the back of the bar where the parking lot was. He didn't expect to find much in this area; Elkhart seemed to be a quiet town.
As Sam walked, he was suddenly tackled from the left side, thrown to the ground. Sam tried to get his bearings to begin to fight back, but the attacker's blows came fast and hard. Hits to the solar plexus, chest, jaw and a knee to the groin incapacitated Sam. He was barely conscious as he heard the man say, "Well, pretty pretty. What do we have here?" Sam's head thunked back down to the asphalt. "Oh, you're going to be a fun one, aren't you? What's your name, pet?" Sam didn't respond. "Fine, you want to play that way?" He took a bandana out of his back pocket and wrapped it around Sam's head, creating a gag. "Just to make sure no one in the bar hears us. Plus, if you're not going to talk to me…well, then we'll just make sure you shut up completely." He took a small knife from his front pocket and began to cut Sam's shirt off. "Oh my," he said with admiration. "Must have got you good, 'cause you're a buff one, huh?" He opened the shirt down the cut and began to kiss and suck his way from Sam's throat to his navel, trailing bruises as he went. Sam tried to move, tried to get up but he was still disoriented and now that the man was on top of him, unable to do anything but lie there. Despite the gag, he tried to scream out, hoping against all hope that someone, anyone would hear the disturbance. He tried to roll over to unseat the man, but the man was straddling Sam's stomach and hips, arms pinned next to him.
He continued his path down Sam's body, enjoying the skin and the feel of the muscles under his hands. "Mm-mmm. Love this body. Knew it was going to be a good decision." Once his mouth moved down to Sam's navel, his hands slipped down to the button on his jeans. "Can't wait to get you open," he panted. Sam cried out against the gag as he realized what was going to happen, but his cries were muffled and the man laughed. "You are pretty stupid, to do that while there's a gag in your mouth. Let's make sure you can't cry out anymore." His hands wrapped around Sam's throat and squeezed until the darkness pulled him under, taking the pain away and bringing him peace.
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Dean had been watching the doorway since a few minutes after Sam left. He now looked at his watch to see that Sam had been gone for over 15 minutes. "Where the hell is that kid?" Dean mumbled under his breath.
He finished his pool game and took one more look around the bar. It usually wasn't hard to find his 6'5" brother, but no, no floppy hair, no jean jacket, no sign of him anywhere. Dean walked out of the bar, looking around to see if Sam had just wandered off.
He turned the corner and began walking to the car. After taking a few steps, he noticed a large lump. As he got closer, he heard a voice talking. Dean thought it was weird for a couple to be on the ground as opposed to up against the building, but didn't pay much attention. He made his way over to the car and looked around again to see where Sam might have gone. And it was then that he saw it - the light from the parking lot bent around the building and there on the ground he saw the chestnut colored hair that signified a missing little brother. Dean strode quickly over to see the man on top of Sam lowering his pants, hands on Sam like they belonged there. Quietly, Dean checked his gun, took the safety off and walking up to the man who was straddling Sam's body, put the gun to the stranger's head and cocked the pistol. "Get off my brother," Dean commanded.
The stranger raised his head to look directly into the barrel of Dean's gun. With little hesitation he climbed off Sam and moved over to the side.
After moving, he grabbed the pocketknife and tried to take a swing at Dean. "You really do have a death wish," Dean said simply. He punched the man in the jaw and then slammed his fist down on the cold asphalt to knock the knife out of his hand. "You'd better be careful," Dean warned. "If I'm not paying full attention, my gun could go off." The attacker dropped the knife at the seriousness in Dean's voice. "What the fuck are you doing?"
No answer.
"Move away, now." He was able to finally see Sam, who was still unconscious. He took off the gag. "Sammy?" Sam didn't answer. "Okay, dude, hang in there. Get you out of here soon."
Dean pulled the attacker up by his shirt and gave a few more shots to his jaw and his stomach. "You're lucky we're not bringing the police into this. I personally was an inch away from shooting your fucking head off." One more hit to the jaw and the man was out cold on the ground. Dean turned his back and rushed over to Sam. "Sammy? Talk to me, dude." Sam's eyelids were fluttering, dashing in and out of consciousness. "Okay, let's get you back to the motel." Rather than moving Sam to the car, Dean pulled the Impala up to where Sam was, got him dressed as well as he could and maneuvered him into the back seat. While Dean was driving away as quickly as he could, he kept talking to Sam trying to get a response. "Damn it, Sam! What were you doing?! Dude. Not supposed to scare the shit out of me like that. Sam? Sammy? C'mon, Sam, you have to wake up. Need you to open your eyes." He continued both cursing at and pleading for Sam to come back to consciousness.
They finally arrived back at the motel. Dean unlocked the door to their room then slid Sam out of the backseat of the car. "Easy, Sammy. I gotcha." Sam's head flopped back against Dean's shoulder and felt like deadweight in his arms. Don't think like that. Sam's alive. He put Sam's arm around his neck and half-dragged half-carried him into the room and to the far bed, the one Sam would usually take. He gently took off Sam's jacket and the cut-up shirt. He saw the row of bruises lying along his sternum and stomach, both small and large. He knew, without Sam telling him, where the bruises came from. He gently ran a finger down over the bruises, shaking his head. Sam was going to have a difficult time with this. Why Sam? What is it about him? Dean went into the bathroom, wet a washcloth and took two towels to clean and examine Sam's injuries.
As Dean was wiping his forehead, Sam groaned quietly. "Sammy?"
"D'n?"
"Yeah. Right here, kiddo. How're you doing?"
All's Sam could do was shake his head.
"Shhhh. It's okay. Just rest, Sammy."
"Head."
It took Dean a minute to realize that Sam meant his head hurt. "Yeah, I can only imagine. Want to try taking some pain medication?" Sam gave one short nod. Dean went to his gear and found the med kit. At this point, he wouldn't give Sam anything stronger than ibuprofen, not until he knew how bad Sam's concussion was. "Here ya go, sit up." Dean helped Sam sit up and rest along his sitting body. "Open up." Sam opened his mouth a little and Dean put the pills in his mouth, then gave him a sip of water. Sam groaned again and Dean laid him back down on the bed.
"Don go."
Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair soothingly. "Not going anywhere, Sammy. Promise."
"K."
Dean sat next to Sam on the bed, murmuring quiet reassurances and touching Sam to let him know he was there. Dean knew he'd have to get Sam to talk about this, but it really wasn't something he wanted to hear. Sam was his. No one else had any right touching him, especially the way that man was touching him. Dean wasn't lying about coming within an inch of shooting the man. It took everything he had to not just pull that trigger, end him right there so he would never never touch anyone who didn't want it again.
Dean roused Sam every couple of hours; Sam barely waking but enough to let Dean know that he was still okay. When Sam opened his eyes, Dean looked quickly to make sure his pupils were reactive and as soon as he saw that, he let Sam go back to sleep.
Dean had thought about going out to get food, but he didn't want to leave Sam alone at all, not even for a minute. Any food that Dean might have delivered wouldn't be suitable for Sam to have - heavy, greasy food that would probably wreak havoc on Sam's stomach right now. Since nothing else was as important as Sam, Dean took off his jacket, put his phone down on the nightstand and lay down besides Sam. He threw his arm around his brother's waist and drifted off into a light sleep.
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Dean jerked awake as he felt Sam trying to pull away from him. Scatterbrained, Dean didn't realize what was going on until he heard Sam retching what little he had in his stomach into the garbage can, groaning in pain from the sore throat he had from the choking he'd endured. He stood and walked Sam over to the bathroom, made sure that he wasn't going to throw up again and got him his toothbrush. Sam brushed his teeth barely standing up, the pain from the bruises just beginning to catch up with him.
"What…where…"
"Slow down, Sam." Dean took a washcloth and slowly ran the cool cloth over his forehead and cheeks. "Let's get you back over to the bed." With Dean's help, they made their way back across the room. Dean took the garbage can liner out, tied the top into a knot, found the dumpster and threw it in. He came back into the room to find Sam sitting on the bed, looking dumbfounded at the injuries on his body.
"What…what happened?"
"That's what I was hoping you could tell me."
"I got jumped, I think." Sam paused as he tried to pull the memory out. "I think…I'm not sure…I think I was gagged."
"Yeah, you did. What else do you remember?"
"I was going out to the Impala to get my laptop." Sam frowned in frustration trying to remember. "Someone on top of me, holding me still," Sam swallowed again, causing fresh pain, "and I don't remember anything else. But my throat is killing me."
"Not surprised. It looks like whoever attacked you tried to choke you."
Sam stood up and took inventory of his body. Bruises were already well-formed, mottled purple and blue and black. He saw the small line that ran down his chest, touching each one. "How did I get these?"
"Don't remember?" Sam shook his head. "Also think your attacker…," what was the best way to say this? "…was biting or sucking on you."
"Oh, god. Oh, god no." Sam moved backwards until he felt the mattress hit the back of his knees and sat down. "He didn't…didn't…oh, God, please tell me he didn't…"
"No, Sammy. I got there just in time." Sam lowered his head and Dean could suddenly hear soft sobs. "Hey, hey," Dean whispered as he put his arms around Sam. "It's okay, Sammy."
"Don't touch me," Sam said softly.
"No, Sam. Don't do this. It's okay, baby boy, really." Dean only called him "baby boy" when they were alone.
Sam stood up suddenly. "Gotta shower," he mumbled, then crossed the room and locked the door behind him.
"Sam?" Dean walked up to the bathroom door. "Sammy, let me in."
"No," was the muffled response. He heard Sam turn on the shower.
"Don't make me pick this wimpy little lock, Sam. You know I'll do it." There was no reply. "Fine. Do this the hard way." Dean went to his bag and began to pick at the lock. If he tried hard enough, he could have forced the knob, but he really didn't want to have to worry about paying for any damages. With ease, he opened the lock and stripped down to his boxers.
When Dean opened the door, a rush of steam hit him. He could see Sam through the shower curtain, steam billowing out. He pushed the curtain back to see Sam's chest red and Sam trying to scrub himself raw. Dean put his hand under the stream of water to find it hotter than he could stand it. "Sammy," he said gently. "C'mon. stop." He made the shower cooler.
"Get away from me, Dean." Sam continued to scrub at his chest and his arms. "Just go."
"Sam, stop." Dean took hold of his hands. "It's okay. Shhhh. It's okay."
"Can't," Sam said, pulling his hands out of Dean's and going back to cleaning himself harshly. "Can't be clean. Can't ever be clean anymore."
Dean gently kissed Sam on the cheek. "Let me take care of you." Dean shed his boxers and slid behind Sam in the shower. Sam closed in on himself, trying hard to not let himself touch Dean in any way. "Sam, look at me." He refused. Dean cupped his hand around Sam's chin and raised his head to make eye contact. "Sam," he started. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Don't, Dean," Sam pleaded as tears started running down his cheeks. "Don't touch me. I don't even remember what happened. But he marked me, Dean. He left his marks on what belongs to you. And I let him."
"Bullshit," Dean replied. "You did not let him. He took, Sam. He took something that was never his. I know that you would never willingly do this."
"Not good enough for you anymore. I understand that you won't want to touch me. I don't even know how you could look at me right now."
"Baby, that's not true. None of it," Dean insisted. "Sam, you are always so much more than I deserve." He stroked Sam's cheek. "All's I see are some bruises, which are going to disappear. Nothing else. Let me take care of you."
Feeling defeated, Sam nodded his head. Dean gently took the washcloth from him and began to wash his brother, moving in slow circles, trying to avoid the bruises discoloring his torso. He moved around to Sam's back. "Duck under the water," Dean said. Sam let the water run over his hair. Dean took some shampoo and washed Sam's hair. Sam let out a little sigh, feeling safer with his brother there. He continued to work down Sam's body, no place untouched except for his groin.
He had Sam rinse off, then face Dean. Dean kissed both of his cheeks. "Let me," he said softly. Without looking, his head on Dean's shoulder, he heard Sam answer, "yes."
Dean wrapped his hand around Sam and began to move his hand on Sam's erection. He ran his fingers through Sam's hair and Sam began to moan quietly. "That's it, baby boy. Just feel." Dean's hand began to alternate between his cock and balls, running his fist around the shaft and palming his balls.
"Dean…"
"Yeah, that's it, Sammy. Let it go." Dean's hand continued to jack him, knowing his brother like the back of his hand, knowing the best way to bring about his bliss.
"Dean, Dean, please…," Sam begged.
"What Sammy?"
"Fuck me, please? Let me know I'm yours. Take him off my body."
"Are you sure?"
Sam nodded. "I only want to feel you. Only ever want to feel you."
"Okay. Turn around," Dean directed. He picked up the shampoo he had used earlier and coated three fingers with it. He ran his first finger down into the crack of Sam's ass and pressed easily inside. "There you go. Open up for me." Dean worked the finger in and out. "You ready for more?"
"Yes," Sam panted. Dean's mouth found Sam's neck as he pressed a second finger into his Sam.
Dean started to twist and scissor his fingers, preparing Sam for him. "There," Dean said. "Marked you as mine again."
"Faster Dean, please, want to feel you…" Dean slid one more finger inside Sam. He ran his fingertips over Sam's prostate, making Sam shudder. "Oh, fuck, god, Dean…," Sam cried.
"Okay, ready?" Sam nodded. He coated his cock with the shampoo and began to ease his way inside Sam. He bottomed out and waited until Sam gave him the go ahead to move. Dean started with little thrusts, gradually building speed and intensity. "Damn, always so good. So tight for me."
"Dean, Dean, Dean," Sam chanted. "Yes, fuck, yes!" Dean's hand moved down to begin to stroke Sam again in time with his thrusts. "Oh, so close, c'mon Dean, so close…" and just as he finished saying that, Sam came, spilling over Dean's hand. With his orgasm, Sam tightened around Dean, which pushed him over the edge.
"Sam, Sammy, oh fuck," Dean shouted. He fell into Sam's body, which was braced on the wall of the shower. He took a moment to catch his breath, then turned Sam around again, pulling Sam into the kiss he'd wanted to give him since he found him unconscious.
Dean washed them off quickly and the water was beginning to grow cold as they stepped out. Dean dried Sam, then himself as he walked with Sam back over to the bed.
Sam lay on the bed and softly, almost so Dean couldn't hear, Sam said, "Thank you."
Dean kissed Sam's forehead and lay down next to him. "For what?"
"For still wanting me."
"Sammy, there will never be a time that I will not want you. Not ever." He paused. "Was so fucking scared seeing you lying there, not moving. I almost shot the guy who attacked you."
"I'm glad you didn't. Can't have you going off to jail and leaving me alone."
"That's right. Someone needs to look after your sorry ass."
Sam smiled slightly. "No, seriously, Dean. Thank you."
Dean pulled Sam into his arms and held him tightly. "C'mon, baby boy. You know I'd do anything for you. You should know this, but you are the most important thing in this world to me. Even more than the Impala."
"Well, I guess I should feel really special then." Sam snuggled closer into Dean. "I love you, Dean." With a soft kiss to Dean's neck, Sam settled in and closed his eyes.
"Sammy, I love you more than you will ever know," he said quietly. "I'd die without you. Don't ever think you're not good enough for me. It simply can't be true." Dean knew Sam heard him, even though his eyes were closed. He kissed Sam's forehead again and closed his eyes as well.
Author: lissa_ann
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean aren't real, right? Then neither is this story. CW and Kripke own all, including my heart.
Summary: One would think that it would be safe to go from the bar to the Impala without a problem in Elkhart, Indiana.
Warnings: attempted non-con (mostly non-graphic), violence, wincest
Word Count: 3,816
A/N: This story is for the wonderful slynkyqueen who bid on me for the help_haiti project. This is the first of two stories for her. She asked for Sam/Dean, Sam gets attacked and Dean rescues him with cuddling at the end. Hope you enjoy, sweetheart!
A/N: Random, but Elkhart, Indiana is a shout out to one of my other fandoms, Quantum Leap.
The fight against the chupacabra took a little longer than they had expected. It moved faster through the forest than they had ever seen. But Sam had finally impaled it with no one the wiser.
They decided to stick around for a few days, take a break, catch their breath. The motel was cheap and with Dean planning to hustle pool, they could afford it. They could both put the case behind them with a few drinks.
It was their usual kind of place - bikers and townies, small-town bar. Dean started off with beer and quickly graduated to tequila shots. Knowing that one of them needed to be able to drive them home, Sam nursed a beer and played a game of pool to show that Dean meant business. He pretended he was a sore loser, accusing Dean of cheating, but most of the patrons thought that Sam was just angry about losing.
Sam sat not far from the pool table, sipping his beer and sulking a little. Dean knew how much he hated just sitting around in bars by himself while Dean kept occupied in several different ways. After about a half hour, he motioned to Dean that he was going outside to the car to get his laptop so that he could do some research, see if there were any omens or signs for them to follow up on in the area. Dean nodded in acknowledgement.
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The man had been sitting quietly in the bar, gulping down drinks and watching everyone. He was easily able to size all the patrons up, studying them to see if there might be any marks. He was somewhat of a regular, but none of the people knew anything about him, outside of what he chose to drink.
There were two guys who walked in that he didn't recognize. He eyed them carefully watching how the two moved in an easy rhythm around each other, like they had spent a lot of time together. The shorter one scanned the bar, keeping himself on edge. The taller one followed the other man closely. He raised his eyebrow - the taller one might be someone who could be a target.
While he longed to play pool, he instead decided to keep his eye on the tall man who had seemed to fall back and wait for the man he came in with. He was able to take a good long look at his mark when he made his way up to the bar. He nodded at the man as he placed his order and got a nod back in return. As soon as he got his beer, he headed off to a booth near the exit.
He noticed the tall guy give the other guy a hand signal that he was going out to the parking lot. He was acknowledged and left the building.
He snuck out the side door, the emergency door that wouldn't sound the alarm because it had been broken since he started going there. He stood there, planted, and waited for his mark to come around the corner.
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Sam walked out of the bar and looked up, thrilled to be able to see stars in the clear dark night. Usually, they wound up in towns with so much light pollution; it was difficult, if not impossible to see. He stood for a moment, just breathing in the fresh air. They had made it through another case, alive. That was cause for celebration every time it happened.
Shivering slightly, Sam began to move to the back of the bar where the parking lot was. He didn't expect to find much in this area; Elkhart seemed to be a quiet town.
As Sam walked, he was suddenly tackled from the left side, thrown to the ground. Sam tried to get his bearings to begin to fight back, but the attacker's blows came fast and hard. Hits to the solar plexus, chest, jaw and a knee to the groin incapacitated Sam. He was barely conscious as he heard the man say, "Well, pretty pretty. What do we have here?" Sam's head thunked back down to the asphalt. "Oh, you're going to be a fun one, aren't you? What's your name, pet?" Sam didn't respond. "Fine, you want to play that way?" He took a bandana out of his back pocket and wrapped it around Sam's head, creating a gag. "Just to make sure no one in the bar hears us. Plus, if you're not going to talk to me…well, then we'll just make sure you shut up completely." He took a small knife from his front pocket and began to cut Sam's shirt off. "Oh my," he said with admiration. "Must have got you good, 'cause you're a buff one, huh?" He opened the shirt down the cut and began to kiss and suck his way from Sam's throat to his navel, trailing bruises as he went. Sam tried to move, tried to get up but he was still disoriented and now that the man was on top of him, unable to do anything but lie there. Despite the gag, he tried to scream out, hoping against all hope that someone, anyone would hear the disturbance. He tried to roll over to unseat the man, but the man was straddling Sam's stomach and hips, arms pinned next to him.
He continued his path down Sam's body, enjoying the skin and the feel of the muscles under his hands. "Mm-mmm. Love this body. Knew it was going to be a good decision." Once his mouth moved down to Sam's navel, his hands slipped down to the button on his jeans. "Can't wait to get you open," he panted. Sam cried out against the gag as he realized what was going to happen, but his cries were muffled and the man laughed. "You are pretty stupid, to do that while there's a gag in your mouth. Let's make sure you can't cry out anymore." His hands wrapped around Sam's throat and squeezed until the darkness pulled him under, taking the pain away and bringing him peace.
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Dean had been watching the doorway since a few minutes after Sam left. He now looked at his watch to see that Sam had been gone for over 15 minutes. "Where the hell is that kid?" Dean mumbled under his breath.
He finished his pool game and took one more look around the bar. It usually wasn't hard to find his 6'5" brother, but no, no floppy hair, no jean jacket, no sign of him anywhere. Dean walked out of the bar, looking around to see if Sam had just wandered off.
He turned the corner and began walking to the car. After taking a few steps, he noticed a large lump. As he got closer, he heard a voice talking. Dean thought it was weird for a couple to be on the ground as opposed to up against the building, but didn't pay much attention. He made his way over to the car and looked around again to see where Sam might have gone. And it was then that he saw it - the light from the parking lot bent around the building and there on the ground he saw the chestnut colored hair that signified a missing little brother. Dean strode quickly over to see the man on top of Sam lowering his pants, hands on Sam like they belonged there. Quietly, Dean checked his gun, took the safety off and walking up to the man who was straddling Sam's body, put the gun to the stranger's head and cocked the pistol. "Get off my brother," Dean commanded.
The stranger raised his head to look directly into the barrel of Dean's gun. With little hesitation he climbed off Sam and moved over to the side.
After moving, he grabbed the pocketknife and tried to take a swing at Dean. "You really do have a death wish," Dean said simply. He punched the man in the jaw and then slammed his fist down on the cold asphalt to knock the knife out of his hand. "You'd better be careful," Dean warned. "If I'm not paying full attention, my gun could go off." The attacker dropped the knife at the seriousness in Dean's voice. "What the fuck are you doing?"
No answer.
"Move away, now." He was able to finally see Sam, who was still unconscious. He took off the gag. "Sammy?" Sam didn't answer. "Okay, dude, hang in there. Get you out of here soon."
Dean pulled the attacker up by his shirt and gave a few more shots to his jaw and his stomach. "You're lucky we're not bringing the police into this. I personally was an inch away from shooting your fucking head off." One more hit to the jaw and the man was out cold on the ground. Dean turned his back and rushed over to Sam. "Sammy? Talk to me, dude." Sam's eyelids were fluttering, dashing in and out of consciousness. "Okay, let's get you back to the motel." Rather than moving Sam to the car, Dean pulled the Impala up to where Sam was, got him dressed as well as he could and maneuvered him into the back seat. While Dean was driving away as quickly as he could, he kept talking to Sam trying to get a response. "Damn it, Sam! What were you doing?! Dude. Not supposed to scare the shit out of me like that. Sam? Sammy? C'mon, Sam, you have to wake up. Need you to open your eyes." He continued both cursing at and pleading for Sam to come back to consciousness.
They finally arrived back at the motel. Dean unlocked the door to their room then slid Sam out of the backseat of the car. "Easy, Sammy. I gotcha." Sam's head flopped back against Dean's shoulder and felt like deadweight in his arms. Don't think like that. Sam's alive. He put Sam's arm around his neck and half-dragged half-carried him into the room and to the far bed, the one Sam would usually take. He gently took off Sam's jacket and the cut-up shirt. He saw the row of bruises lying along his sternum and stomach, both small and large. He knew, without Sam telling him, where the bruises came from. He gently ran a finger down over the bruises, shaking his head. Sam was going to have a difficult time with this. Why Sam? What is it about him? Dean went into the bathroom, wet a washcloth and took two towels to clean and examine Sam's injuries.
As Dean was wiping his forehead, Sam groaned quietly. "Sammy?"
"D'n?"
"Yeah. Right here, kiddo. How're you doing?"
All's Sam could do was shake his head.
"Shhhh. It's okay. Just rest, Sammy."
"Head."
It took Dean a minute to realize that Sam meant his head hurt. "Yeah, I can only imagine. Want to try taking some pain medication?" Sam gave one short nod. Dean went to his gear and found the med kit. At this point, he wouldn't give Sam anything stronger than ibuprofen, not until he knew how bad Sam's concussion was. "Here ya go, sit up." Dean helped Sam sit up and rest along his sitting body. "Open up." Sam opened his mouth a little and Dean put the pills in his mouth, then gave him a sip of water. Sam groaned again and Dean laid him back down on the bed.
"Don go."
Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair soothingly. "Not going anywhere, Sammy. Promise."
"K."
Dean sat next to Sam on the bed, murmuring quiet reassurances and touching Sam to let him know he was there. Dean knew he'd have to get Sam to talk about this, but it really wasn't something he wanted to hear. Sam was his. No one else had any right touching him, especially the way that man was touching him. Dean wasn't lying about coming within an inch of shooting the man. It took everything he had to not just pull that trigger, end him right there so he would never never touch anyone who didn't want it again.
Dean roused Sam every couple of hours; Sam barely waking but enough to let Dean know that he was still okay. When Sam opened his eyes, Dean looked quickly to make sure his pupils were reactive and as soon as he saw that, he let Sam go back to sleep.
Dean had thought about going out to get food, but he didn't want to leave Sam alone at all, not even for a minute. Any food that Dean might have delivered wouldn't be suitable for Sam to have - heavy, greasy food that would probably wreak havoc on Sam's stomach right now. Since nothing else was as important as Sam, Dean took off his jacket, put his phone down on the nightstand and lay down besides Sam. He threw his arm around his brother's waist and drifted off into a light sleep.
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Dean jerked awake as he felt Sam trying to pull away from him. Scatterbrained, Dean didn't realize what was going on until he heard Sam retching what little he had in his stomach into the garbage can, groaning in pain from the sore throat he had from the choking he'd endured. He stood and walked Sam over to the bathroom, made sure that he wasn't going to throw up again and got him his toothbrush. Sam brushed his teeth barely standing up, the pain from the bruises just beginning to catch up with him.
"What…where…"
"Slow down, Sam." Dean took a washcloth and slowly ran the cool cloth over his forehead and cheeks. "Let's get you back over to the bed." With Dean's help, they made their way back across the room. Dean took the garbage can liner out, tied the top into a knot, found the dumpster and threw it in. He came back into the room to find Sam sitting on the bed, looking dumbfounded at the injuries on his body.
"What…what happened?"
"That's what I was hoping you could tell me."
"I got jumped, I think." Sam paused as he tried to pull the memory out. "I think…I'm not sure…I think I was gagged."
"Yeah, you did. What else do you remember?"
"I was going out to the Impala to get my laptop." Sam frowned in frustration trying to remember. "Someone on top of me, holding me still," Sam swallowed again, causing fresh pain, "and I don't remember anything else. But my throat is killing me."
"Not surprised. It looks like whoever attacked you tried to choke you."
Sam stood up and took inventory of his body. Bruises were already well-formed, mottled purple and blue and black. He saw the small line that ran down his chest, touching each one. "How did I get these?"
"Don't remember?" Sam shook his head. "Also think your attacker…," what was the best way to say this? "…was biting or sucking on you."
"Oh, god. Oh, god no." Sam moved backwards until he felt the mattress hit the back of his knees and sat down. "He didn't…didn't…oh, God, please tell me he didn't…"
"No, Sammy. I got there just in time." Sam lowered his head and Dean could suddenly hear soft sobs. "Hey, hey," Dean whispered as he put his arms around Sam. "It's okay, Sammy."
"Don't touch me," Sam said softly.
"No, Sam. Don't do this. It's okay, baby boy, really." Dean only called him "baby boy" when they were alone.
Sam stood up suddenly. "Gotta shower," he mumbled, then crossed the room and locked the door behind him.
"Sam?" Dean walked up to the bathroom door. "Sammy, let me in."
"No," was the muffled response. He heard Sam turn on the shower.
"Don't make me pick this wimpy little lock, Sam. You know I'll do it." There was no reply. "Fine. Do this the hard way." Dean went to his bag and began to pick at the lock. If he tried hard enough, he could have forced the knob, but he really didn't want to have to worry about paying for any damages. With ease, he opened the lock and stripped down to his boxers.
When Dean opened the door, a rush of steam hit him. He could see Sam through the shower curtain, steam billowing out. He pushed the curtain back to see Sam's chest red and Sam trying to scrub himself raw. Dean put his hand under the stream of water to find it hotter than he could stand it. "Sammy," he said gently. "C'mon. stop." He made the shower cooler.
"Get away from me, Dean." Sam continued to scrub at his chest and his arms. "Just go."
"Sam, stop." Dean took hold of his hands. "It's okay. Shhhh. It's okay."
"Can't," Sam said, pulling his hands out of Dean's and going back to cleaning himself harshly. "Can't be clean. Can't ever be clean anymore."
Dean gently kissed Sam on the cheek. "Let me take care of you." Dean shed his boxers and slid behind Sam in the shower. Sam closed in on himself, trying hard to not let himself touch Dean in any way. "Sam, look at me." He refused. Dean cupped his hand around Sam's chin and raised his head to make eye contact. "Sam," he started. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Don't, Dean," Sam pleaded as tears started running down his cheeks. "Don't touch me. I don't even remember what happened. But he marked me, Dean. He left his marks on what belongs to you. And I let him."
"Bullshit," Dean replied. "You did not let him. He took, Sam. He took something that was never his. I know that you would never willingly do this."
"Not good enough for you anymore. I understand that you won't want to touch me. I don't even know how you could look at me right now."
"Baby, that's not true. None of it," Dean insisted. "Sam, you are always so much more than I deserve." He stroked Sam's cheek. "All's I see are some bruises, which are going to disappear. Nothing else. Let me take care of you."
Feeling defeated, Sam nodded his head. Dean gently took the washcloth from him and began to wash his brother, moving in slow circles, trying to avoid the bruises discoloring his torso. He moved around to Sam's back. "Duck under the water," Dean said. Sam let the water run over his hair. Dean took some shampoo and washed Sam's hair. Sam let out a little sigh, feeling safer with his brother there. He continued to work down Sam's body, no place untouched except for his groin.
He had Sam rinse off, then face Dean. Dean kissed both of his cheeks. "Let me," he said softly. Without looking, his head on Dean's shoulder, he heard Sam answer, "yes."
Dean wrapped his hand around Sam and began to move his hand on Sam's erection. He ran his fingers through Sam's hair and Sam began to moan quietly. "That's it, baby boy. Just feel." Dean's hand began to alternate between his cock and balls, running his fist around the shaft and palming his balls.
"Dean…"
"Yeah, that's it, Sammy. Let it go." Dean's hand continued to jack him, knowing his brother like the back of his hand, knowing the best way to bring about his bliss.
"Dean, Dean, please…," Sam begged.
"What Sammy?"
"Fuck me, please? Let me know I'm yours. Take him off my body."
"Are you sure?"
Sam nodded. "I only want to feel you. Only ever want to feel you."
"Okay. Turn around," Dean directed. He picked up the shampoo he had used earlier and coated three fingers with it. He ran his first finger down into the crack of Sam's ass and pressed easily inside. "There you go. Open up for me." Dean worked the finger in and out. "You ready for more?"
"Yes," Sam panted. Dean's mouth found Sam's neck as he pressed a second finger into his Sam.
Dean started to twist and scissor his fingers, preparing Sam for him. "There," Dean said. "Marked you as mine again."
"Faster Dean, please, want to feel you…" Dean slid one more finger inside Sam. He ran his fingertips over Sam's prostate, making Sam shudder. "Oh, fuck, god, Dean…," Sam cried.
"Okay, ready?" Sam nodded. He coated his cock with the shampoo and began to ease his way inside Sam. He bottomed out and waited until Sam gave him the go ahead to move. Dean started with little thrusts, gradually building speed and intensity. "Damn, always so good. So tight for me."
"Dean, Dean, Dean," Sam chanted. "Yes, fuck, yes!" Dean's hand moved down to begin to stroke Sam again in time with his thrusts. "Oh, so close, c'mon Dean, so close…" and just as he finished saying that, Sam came, spilling over Dean's hand. With his orgasm, Sam tightened around Dean, which pushed him over the edge.
"Sam, Sammy, oh fuck," Dean shouted. He fell into Sam's body, which was braced on the wall of the shower. He took a moment to catch his breath, then turned Sam around again, pulling Sam into the kiss he'd wanted to give him since he found him unconscious.
Dean washed them off quickly and the water was beginning to grow cold as they stepped out. Dean dried Sam, then himself as he walked with Sam back over to the bed.
Sam lay on the bed and softly, almost so Dean couldn't hear, Sam said, "Thank you."
Dean kissed Sam's forehead and lay down next to him. "For what?"
"For still wanting me."
"Sammy, there will never be a time that I will not want you. Not ever." He paused. "Was so fucking scared seeing you lying there, not moving. I almost shot the guy who attacked you."
"I'm glad you didn't. Can't have you going off to jail and leaving me alone."
"That's right. Someone needs to look after your sorry ass."
Sam smiled slightly. "No, seriously, Dean. Thank you."
Dean pulled Sam into his arms and held him tightly. "C'mon, baby boy. You know I'd do anything for you. You should know this, but you are the most important thing in this world to me. Even more than the Impala."
"Well, I guess I should feel really special then." Sam snuggled closer into Dean. "I love you, Dean." With a soft kiss to Dean's neck, Sam settled in and closed his eyes.
"Sammy, I love you more than you will ever know," he said quietly. "I'd die without you. Don't ever think you're not good enough for me. It simply can't be true." Dean knew Sam heard him, even though his eyes were closed. He kissed Sam's forehead again and closed his eyes as well.