Stranded at the Drive-in 1/3 (Completed)

Jun 27, 2006 23:05

Title: Stranded at the Drive-in
Author: merepersiflage
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Dean/others, briefly-but you know I’m all about the OTP, right?
Rating: 18+
Category: slash
Word Count: 23,000
Spoilers:Through “Bugs” though the note below spoils “Salvation” a bit
Summary: Couples disappear from an X-rated drive-in.
Warnings: Incest, graphic m/m sex, language, mentions of underaged incest
Disclaimer: The boys belong to others, I intend no harm and will make no profit.
Notes: la_folle_allure did more than midwife this story, she was a co-birth mother. Anything you like in it is probably her idea. Anything you don’t is probably mine. Also, may_burrows held my hand while I panicked while the story’s co-birth mother went on vacation.
This contains my version of the two-year silence between Sam and Dean and how the Wincestin’ started up again.


Stranded at the Drive-in
by merepersiflage

Part One

Those three letters were visible a long way away.

“An X-rated drive-in?” Sam was more than his usually pissy self tonight.

“Yep.”

“Don’t these people have cable for that?”

“Apparently they prefer to go out for it.”

They were close enough now for Sam to read the titles on the marquee. The temperature in the car dropped about thirty degrees.

“A gay porn drive-in?”

“Just on Thursdays. Wednesday it’s Ladies’ Night and on the weekends it’s-”

“I get it. And this is a job? This is not some elaborate plot to-”

“For cryin’ out loud, Sam. If I was that desperate for your ass, I’d tie it to the bed and take it.”

“Like you could.”

“Don’t fuckin’ push me. It’s a job.”

The girl at the ticket window looked a long way past bored, snapping her gum as she took the cash Dean handed her and gave him back two ticket stubs. Dean looked at them in confusion.

“There’s a drawing,” she said around a yawn.

Dean’s mind went to a very scary place as he tried to figure exactly what kind of prizes might be awarded at this kind of drive-in.

“You know, for free popcorn or sodas?” she clarified with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh.” Dean remembered not to wink just in time.

Thirty or so cars were scattered around the thinly grassed and graveled lot. The rows of three-foot tall, white poles reminded Dean of the layout of a cemetery. A hump rounded the grass of each row to tilt the cars toward the screen. Dean pulled into a row near the back where they could keep an eye on things.

After he shut the car off, he glanced over at his brother. Sam was trying to look everywhere but at the three story screen with its giant image of some muscled dude bucking as he rode a guy with a piece of equipment that made Dean both envious and sympathetic. They didn’t have a speaker hooked up and hadn’t bothered tuning the radio to the drive-in’s broadcast, but he could hear that moan clear enough. Maybe Sam had the right idea. It was gonna be a little difficult to concentrate on the job with that going on.

“So three couples in the past three months have been gone missing from here and people are still showing up to this drive-in?” Sam was staring hard at the floorboards.

“What can I say? People like their porn. You want some popcorn?”

“Popcorn? Is this a stake out or a date?”

“Dude, get over yourself. I’m just gonna to have a look ‘round. Keep an eye on the cars.”

Sam had been fuck all touchy ever since that whole misunderstanding with the real estate people in Oklahoma. After the first moment of surprise, Dean had found it funny, and at first he thought Sam had too, but evidently it had raked up the past a little too much for Sammy. Even though Dean hadn’t touched him that way since he’d seen him at Stanford in the fall of his sophomore year.

And since Sam had been hunting with him again, when he even thought about offering him a touch in comfort, or to tend a wound, he remembered what Sam had said that last time and stopped cold.

Yeah, this job was gonna be fun.

When he went to pick up Sam when Dad went missing, he hadn’t really expected to get his old Sam back. Not his sweet hero-worshipping baby brother or awkward pouty-lipped adolescent Sam. And Sam had made it damn clear he wasn’t ever going to get him back the way he’d had him the two years before he left. But he hadn’t expected a Sam who looked like he’d rather kill Dean than half the things they went after.

He knew Jessica’s death had a lot to do with it, that Sam was taking his grief out on a convenient target, but things had gotten worse in the last six months instead of better. Now he had an angry Sam running on zero sleep and less food. After Oklahoma it was like riding with a box of poorly packed nitro.

Dean’s EMF reader picked up something behind the screen but before he could pinpoint it, the reading quit. He stood perfectly still. Listened. Waited.

Nothing. But the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

He checked the concession stand and bathroom on his way back to the car. There was as much moaning coming from one of the bathroom stalls as there was from the screen. Dean couldn’t see what appeal this pit had over a car-even a tiny import with bucket seats-but he shrugged and started back out.

There was a brief interruption in the bathroom’s soundtrack. The stall door cracked open.

“Join us?”

Dean’s lips twisted. “Thanks. Um-I’ve got something warming up in the car.” Yeah.

He grabbed popcorn and a soda from the empty concession stand and headed back to the car.

“You actually bought popcorn.”

“It’s still a movie, Sam.”

“Yeah. Whatever. What kind of couples disappeared?”

“Kind?”

Sam gave him that pursed-lipped glare he did when he thought Dean was being deliberately obtuse. “Oh, guy/girl, girl/girl, guy/girl.”

“And we’re here tonight . . . ?”

“Because we got here today?”

If possible, Sam seemed more tight-assed than when they had pulled in. Maybe it wasn’t his ass that was feeling tight. Dean looked over.

“Quit looking at my crotch.”

“Why? There somethin’ to see?”

Sam slid down in the seat, arms folded across his chest. “Did you find anything?”

“There’s something going on behind the screen, but the reading faded out.”

“Maybe you just need to find a new station on your Walkman.”

“Do you want to walk back to the hotel?”

Sam punched open the door. “I’m gonna take a look around.”

“Fine. Might want to stay out of the bathroom.”

“Try not to get come on the steering wheel when you jerk off. I do drive occasionally.”

Dean would have left the little bitch there, if he didn’t remember they were supposed to be working a job. As if he would ever abuse his car like that. Jerk off in it maybe, but only onto napkins. Never the steering wheel.

The second feature was starting by the time Sam got back to the car. Several cars had departed during intermission, flashing their taillights as they disappeared into the darkness. And no wonder, Dean thought as he watched the opening of the movie. God, he hated it when porn tried to have a plot.

“Find anything?”

“No, and all the cars still have people in them.”

“You looked?”

“It’s a job, remember?” Sam crunched on some popcorn.

“Oh, by the way, I didn’t want to mess up the steering wheel, so I jerked off into the popcorn bucket.”

Sam choked. “I am so going to kill you.”

“Jesus, lighten up, will ya? Besides, don’t tell me you don’t remember the taste.”

There was no warning. Sam just launched himself across the car, fist headed for Dean’s head. Dean ducked and head butted him in the ribs.

Sam’s wind left him in a rush that blew over Dean’s head, but the brat still managed to get a grip on the back of Dean’s shirt and tried hauling him up.

Dean twisted free and lifted his head to try to clip his brother’s chin. Sam anticipated it, but Dean still managed to bump his cheek.

“Ow.”

Sam took the only target Dean had provided and landed a couple blows on his back until Dean reached up and grabbed his throat. “What the hell, Sam?”

Sam stopped swinging. Dean released him, and Sam flung himself up against the passenger door.

“Freaking jerk.”

“Wow. That’s impressive. You went to college and that’s the best you can come up with?” Dean looked back over the cars, watching. They were down to five plus them.

“You think anything’s gonna happen tonight?” Sam still sounded a little winded.

“Coulda been the goddamn demon parade two minutes ago and we’d have missed it.”

“Not gonna catch much if we keep fighting.”

“Well, that’s just brilliant, college boy. What do you suppose we should do to catch something?”

“I guess we could be bait.”

The light from the flickering screen showed the flush on Sam’s cheeks, and he was still panting from that scuffle-or from-shit, was Sam leaning closer?

“Ah, what the hell you doin’, Sam?”

“Working.”

Dean pressed himself backward. “Um, on what?” Maybe there was a succubus or incubus involved. Maybe Sam was possessed. Because why else would his that’s-never-going-to-happen-again brother be leaning that close to his lips?

“Whatever it is goes after couples making out at this drive-in. So . . . “

“You just tried to punch my lights out for joking about it. Now you want to-”

“Be bait. It’s just a job, Dean.”

“Right, a job.”

He was all the way against the door, and Sam was still coming closer. He couldn’t. He couldn’t touch Sam like that, because his body wouldn’t know it was a lie. Sam would know, too, the second he touched him, that Dean had never stopped hoping things would go back to the way they were before, and he’d rather just get out of the car before he had to hear Sam’s voice get that cold and nasty again.

Dean reached behind him for the door handle. Sam’s hand landed on his. “Where are you going?”

“Uh-to take a leak?”

“You haven’t had that much soda.”

“You the boss of my bladder, now?”

Sam’s eyes closed just before he came that final inch and pressed his lips to Dean’s. Dean kept his mouth closed, his lips firm, and tried to think unsexy thoughts. Root canals, hitting his thumb with a hammer, his ninety-year-old chemistry teacher. But he could smell Sam, breathe Sam, and if he’d just open his mouth a little he would taste Sam. He pushed down the door handle and was perfectly happy to fall out on his ass if it got him away from six and a half feet of temptation.

“Be right back.”

There was a particularly loud moan from the speakers, and Dean scrambled to his feet, trying not to think of how close he had been to moaning and opening his mouth to Sam. He did not look at the screen; his dick did not need any more encouragement.

He moved far away from the concession stand and let his eyes adjust to the dark. Now would be a good time to find something to kill to get his mind off what the hell had just almost happened. Hunting was way less confusing. He scoped out the lot.

There was something a little off about one of the cars on the far left. It was the only one with clear windows. Everyone else’s were fogged in the early morning chill.

Dean crept toward it. Watch me get arrested for voyeurism-at a fucking gay porn drive-in. That’ll make Dad proud. He saw a pair of boots and sneakers outside the car, and almost turned back. If there were any other clothes out there . . . He crouched down and peered in the back window. Empty. Totally empty. No clothes. No bodies. No blood. Nothing. He pulled out his EMF and got a sudden flash that faded quickly. Maybe it was interference from the radio broadcasting the soundtrack.

He checked around the concession stand and bathroom before heading back to the Impala. Sam had dumped the popcorn out of the car, and was lying across the back seat, head on the bench, feet out the open window.

“Way to have my back, bro.”

“While you were taking a leak? And aren’t you always grandma-ing me about not getting any sleep?”

“There’s an empty car.”

“Maybe they just went to the bathroom.”

“I checked.”

“Now what?”

Did he really have to look up at Dean like that?

“Fuck me harder.” The emphatic suggestion from one of the guys on screen made Dean turn his head to hide a blush. “I don’t know. If they’re already gone, I don’t know what to do about it now. We can check around tomorrow. Maybe they are just off in the bushes somewhere.” Barefoot? Well, it wasn’t as if he’d never done anything stupid while thinking with his dick.

“Yeah, cars can get a little cramped.” Sam stuck his legs farther out of the window as an example.

Dean remembered the few times they’d snuck into the car before Sam left, times when they couldn’t find any other place to be alone. The tight positions had only seemed to make everything more intense.

What the fuck was Sam doing?

“That’s it. Tighten that ass. Take it all, baby.” The plot portion of the movie had clearly come to an end.

Dean climbed in the front seat and sat with his spine rigid. He shut his eyes, but the moan punctuated dialogue continued.

“You like my fat cock in your ass, don’t you?”

“What about my plan?” Sam’s voice was right in his ear, and Dean jumped.

“What plan?”

“To be bait.”

“It’s never taken two couples in one night.”

“But what if they’re just in the bushes?”

Did Sam really want to make out? What the hell? He was used to Sam’s pig-headedness, but he hadn’t turned it on this particular subject for a long time.

He turned, and Sam’s mouth was right there. It was only a quick brush of lips, but both their mouths were open. More than enough to send a buzz along Dean’s nerves. He jerked back and hit a rib on the steering wheel.

“Ow. Fuck.”

“Come now, yeah, come in my ass.”

Dean reached for the keys. Sam’s hand came down on his shoulder. “Don’t you like my plan?”

If he was screwing with him, he was going to take his brother’s fucking head off. “What do you want, Sam?”

“Now, suck me. Harder.”

He couldn’t take the soundtrack anymore. He pulled away from Sam’s hand and rolled up the windows. The dialogue at least, became indistinct.

He turned back to his brother more slowly, careful to keep his head out of reach.

“What’s going on, Sam?”

“A job?”

“Fine. Well, job’s over for tonight.” Dean turned back and started the car.

“Dean.” Sam’s hand was on his shoulder again, close to his neck.

Dean froze.

Sam’s thumb rubbed beneath his ear. It took every bit of Dean’s control not to shiver from that touch.

“I miss you.”

He couldn’t do this. If he turned and there was a laugh on Sam’s face, he’d kill him. If they went back to being well, what they’d been and Sam left him again, he’d die. His hand hesitated over the gear stick.

Sam climbed over his back and twisted the key. The engine went silent. Sam dropped back behind him.

“Please, Dean.”

And of course he’d never been good at saying no to Sammy, even when he couldn’t see those puppy eyes. Maybe he could live through it if the seat stayed between him. Then his body couldn’t give away its stupid, pointless, desperate hunger for his brother’s skin.

He could just kiss him. That’s all. Yeah, right. And he could just eat one Dorito once the bag was opened, too. He looked up at the screen and that was a big mistake. Because the guy giving a blow job had nothing on Sam. Not a deep enough hollow of cheeks, the lips not dark enough, full enough, and no way did he have Sam’s sexy lashed half-lidded look. Fuck no. And remembering how his brother looked when he was sucking him off was the last fucking straw.

He spun and grabbed Sam by the shoulders, yanked him to his mouth. Maybe it was impossible to feed two and a half years’ starvation with one kiss, but Dean was sure as hell going to try. Sam met him there, sucked his tongue in deeper and wrapped it with his. The moan came up between them, so deep inside it was impossible to tell who began it. The vibration went all the way down through Dean’s bones.

Sam’s grip shifted to the back of his head, pressing him closer. They were sliding inside each other, sharing a breath. Dean could taste that Sam had been drinking his soda. Probably downed it all like usual, the little shit. Sam’s kiss was better than all those his dreams had been feeding him, real, hot, wet. When their air ran out, Sam gave that high little sigh he made.

Then his voice dipped back to its usual resonance. “Damn. Why’d we stop doing this?”

Dean shoved him away, slamming him back against the seat.

“What?” Sam had the balls to look hurt.

“That’s rich, little brother.”

“What?”

“I believe your exact words were ‘I’m done with all of it. You’re not going to keep me from my chance at being normal, so stop trying to drag me back into it by my dick.’ Of course, I also remember that you waited until after I had blown your brains out-twice-before telling me this.”

At least Sam could still blush, hard enough to make out against his bronzed skin in the dark. He dropped his eyes. “Oh, that.”

“That? Fucking hell, Sam.” He turned back around and slumped in his seat.

“I-it was weird, seeing you at college.”

“I’d been there before.”

“Yeah. But-”

“You didn’t need me anymore. You had friends by then. Were you with Jessica?’

“No, we hadn’t even met yet. Dean, it wasn’t like that. You know-”

“What the hell do I know? You cut me off, kiddo. No calls, nothing. And now, you’re lonely and I’m here. Well, fuck that.”

“Dean.” Sam reached for his shoulders again, and Dean shrugged him off.

Sam leaned forward, close to his ear, but not touching him. Dean knew he could put an end to the whole stupid conversation with a nice elbow to Sam’s nose. Not hard enough to break it, just enough to shut him up. But half of him wanted to hear just how Mr. Future Lawyer was going to wiggle out of this one.

“If that was all I wanted, I could pick up a girl. You’ve done it.”

Dean’s lips twisted. He thought Sam hadn’t noticed the times he’d disappeared from the bar for an hour. Sam had been so engrossed in his laptop he figured he’d never even looked up.

“So why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t just want a little touch. I want-I want what we had before.”

“And that’s why you took a swing at me?”

“Yeah, well, you still piss me off sometimes.”

Dean finally turned to look at him. “I don’t know, Sam.” And he didn’t. He knew what his dick wanted, hell what every inch of his skin wanted, but Sam, who knew what he wanted? Fuck, even Sam probably never knew what he wanted. And thinking and talking never solved anything. Dean opened his door.

“Come on, Dean. Don’t-”

He jerked open the back door. “Shove over.”

Sam’s grin was as irritating as it was inviting.

“Don’t get cocky, you son of a bitch. Maybe I’m just horny.”

“God, I know I am.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Until Sam finally said, “So.”

“So what?”

“Man, why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“I’m not making anything difficult. I’m not making anything. You wanted to be bait. So. . .” he slumped in the seat, letting his legs flop apart. “Bait me.”

“You’re a total jackass, you know that?”

“Thanks. Is this part of your usual come on, because I gotta tell you, Sam, with lines like that I’m surprised you got anything in college, let alone a girl like Jessica.”

Sam shoved himself against the other door. “Thanks very much for that mood killer.”

“Horny has moods now? You are or you aren’t. You wanna do this or you don’t.”

“I can’t do this.” And the wave of Sam’s hand as he indicated the car and Dean was so dismissive, Dean felt a little sick. “If I’m thinking about her.”

Dean really hadn’t known what to expect when he’d climbed into the back seat, but a couple of quick punches to the gut wasn’t high on his list.

He forced a smirk to his lips. “What, didn’t think of your very first blow job the first time she wrapped her lips around you? How quickly we forget.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

“Why? Gonna take another swing at me? I don’t know what the fuck your issue is tonight, Sam, but work it the fuck out on your own before you drag me in again.” He reached for the door handle.

“Wait.” Sam grabbed his arm again.

“I think I’ve been waiting enough.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Liar! his soul whispered as his body screamed. “You wanted this, here I am.”

“So what’s the problem.”

“You’re the one with the problem, Sam. I climbed back here to get off, not angst over it like some chick who doesn’t go past second.”

“I know. It’s just-I didn’t think it would be this awkward, you know? I mean you kissed me.”

“Yeah. I was there. And?”

“I thought we could just . . .”

“Pick up where we left off? I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy, Sammy. You were gone for four fucking years.”

“I know that, Dean.”

“Do you? ‘Cause I think you sometimes like to forget how you walked out on us.”

“Me and you?”

“Don’t be a girl, Sam. Me and Dad.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“How was it, then? You only seem to remember what you want to remember. So tell me, how was it?”

It had been the most terrifying, miserable, confusing time in Sam’s life. He’d wanted it so bad, but he’d wanted to take Dean with him-had tried in so many ways to convince him, but then like now, his brother had turned into stone. Unmoving, unemotional, un-fucking-breakable stone.

Hell, Dean had told him to have fun, do great, a slap on the back and a where can I drop you. Nothing more than if they’d been casual acquaintances instead of brothers and lovers. Nothing but a hard line of jaw and a little tightness around the eyes.

It was the same expression he was wearing now. If Dean would unbend just a little, touch him, kiss him, he knew the stone would melt into fire and Sam would be able to bury this ache that had been building since Oklahoma in his brother’s welcoming body.

But that was a lie. That feeling had been building for far longer. That little joke, the slap on the ass, that had only pushed the need in the open. He’d been aching for Dean since he’d knocked him down in his apartment.

When Constance had told him he’d be unfaithful, all he could think of was Dean. It still felt disloyal, like a betrayal of Jess, and maybe that was the reason his desire was so messed up with anger. Dean had been there first, always first, in everything but the one thing he’d never let them do.

The thing that was smacking him in the face from the giant screen. As many times as they’d made each other come those years, they’d never fucked.

Sam hadn’t been a virgin for Jess; she hadn’t for him. And despite trying a few guys his freshman year to figure out if he was bi or just obsessed with Dean, he still was in that respect a virgin.

He looked away from the screen, but couldn’t look at Dean. Any second Jess had slipped from his mind these past months, Dean was there, pushing his was back into his life, filling it so much there wasn’t room for anything else. After that careless touch in Oklahoma, barely sexual, he felt like he’d been half hard around his brother, waiting for the moment to do something about it.

Dean was still waiting for his answer. How was it then?

“It was something I had to do. You should have done it, too.”

“What, walk out on my family?”

“It’s called growing up, Dean. You’re the only one who thinks what’s normal for everybody else is some sort of betrayal.”

“Normal. We’re back to that are we? What do ya call macking on your brother, then?”

Dean had him there. He gave a rueful grin. “Us?”

“We’re done here.” Dean made a disgusted snort and opened the door to climb up front. “So, you riding back there or you coming up front?”

“Apparently I’m not coming at all.” Sam muttered almost to himself as he opened the door.

Dean laughed, but it had a brittle sound. “Wow. Did you just make a dirty joke? There may be hope for you yet.”

Sam dropped in next to him and looked at the few remaining cars.

“There’s nothing left to do here tonight. We’ll see what we can dig up tomorrow.”

“Dean-”

“Sam. You asked. I answered.”

“Fine.” He wouldn’t beg. Not again. After all, he was the one who had pushed Dean out of his life that last time.

* * *

The dorms were usually quiet on Sunday nights-this one even more so since lots of students had gone home for Yom Kippur-including Sam’s roommate, Eli. So the peremptory knock on his door might have startled him if he wasn’t expecting it. But he knew who’d be standing there even before he opened the door. His brother’d never had any trouble reading a calendar, and he knew Eli was Jewish, though Sam’d never told him.

The lock wouldn’t really matter if Dean wanted in, but Sam took a long breath before popping the lock. He knew what would happen as soon as he opened the door and he was going to need that extra oxygen.

Dean’s hands were fisted in his pockets as if that was the only way he could keep from yanking Sam out to join him in the hall. His expressive lips parted on almost a smile.

Sam didn’t bother asking What do you want? It would have been a waste of air. He locked the door behind Dean and a rush of arousal sent him spinning as Dean grabbed him and pulled him onto the narrow bed.

“Sammy.” A breath in his ear, hands over every inch of him, like Dean was looking for something, some sign he could read on Sam’s body. He couldn’t be looking for new injuries; that was all behind Sam. An occasional tweaked muscle from working out was the worst Sam faced these days.

The first time was always like this, barely moving clothes out of the way. No words: grunts, gasps and grips tight enough to bruise. Not even a kiss, just the hard press of bodies lost in a hunger for hot skin on skin. The rub of Dean’s cock on his always made him come too fast, just like the kid he’d been that first time. Before Sam even stopped shuddering, Dean had shifted up to ride the groove above his hip, a sensation as familiar as the name that spilled from Dean’s lips over and over until he came, bathing their bellies in a long splash of heat.

There was still nothing said. Nothing to say. Dean was alive and okay, and so was Dad, or Dean would have said something. So they just lay in a tangle of limbs, clothes, sweat and come, nothing but pounding hearts and quick hard breaths.

When it got to be too uncomfortable, a cramped calf, freezing ribs, Sam wiggled under Dean. Dean rolled off, just to his side, any farther and he’d have hit the floor.

“What is it with these beds, dude? Don’t you hang off the edge?”

“No more than any other bed.” They had this conversation every time Dean came to see him. He had to show his disdain for the life Sam had chosen. Next Dean would say:

“What do they soak people for to live in these little boxes?”

And Sam would get defensive. “Because sleazy motels offer so much more.”

“At least I can stretch out.”

“Now that you don’t have to share with me.”

“Dude, I didn’t-”

“I know.”

Sam climbed around Dean and shucked his clothes, rubbing the come off with a towel before throwing it at Dean.

Dean knocked it to the bed as he stood to peel off his own clothes, and Sam sucked in his breath at the sight of his right shoulder purpled with bruises.

“Poltergeist. Violent motherfucker.”

“Could you maybe try to land on your left? How can you even shoot like that?”

“Same as always. And I land the way they throw me. It’s not like I go in planning to get knocked on my ass.”

“But you always do.”

“It’d be easier if someone else was watching my back.”

Sam sat back on his bed. “I thought Dad was. You know, world’s best hunter and all that.”

“Usually, I’m watching his.”

“And who’d watch mine?”

“Me. You know I’d never let anything hurt you, Sammy.”

“I know.” And he never would. Dean was gonna die protecting one of them and damned if he was going to die for Sam.

Dean yanked open Eli’s little fridge. Sam tried hard not to stare at that narrow ass as Dean bent over to peer inside.

“No beer? What did ya do with those fake ID’s you left with?”

“Still got’em. Have a Coke, Dean.”

Dean tugged out a can and popped the lid. Sam let himself watch the perfect line of his brother’s nude body as he tipped it to his lips and guzzled.

“Want any?” Dean wiped his lips. “Nah, I’ll never get it back, ya soda hog. Here.”

He bent again, and Sam pursed his lips. God, he wished they’d crossed that line, even just once. Now that he knew how absolutely fucking amazing it was to actually be inside someone else’s body, he wanted to know what it would have felt like to be in Dean’s. To have Dean in him. But now with all the distance between them it felt impossible to ask, as if just asking would sever their tenuous connection.

Dean straightened up and tossed him a can.

“Funny. Like I’d open that now.” He pushed off the bed and grabbed the can from Dean, the challenge bringing everything back to comfortable. No emotions, no discussions, just a stupid fight about everything and nothing. Dean locked his other hand on Sam’s wrist and dragged Sam’s hand on the can up with him as he brought the can to his mouth.

Sam dug a finger in Dean’s ribs, winning possession of the can and a face full of soda and spit at the same time.

Dean burst out laughing. “Smooth one, Sammy.”

Sam finished the can and hooked a leg behind Dean’s knocking them both to the floor. He pinned his brother with hips, entwined legs, and a forearm across the shoulders, careful to keep off the bruise. “Lick it off.”

“Make me, bitch.” Dean’s hips shifted and he lunged up with his arm, the arm Sam had been counting off limits because of the signs of another separation.

Just like that, Sam was on his back, head under his desk. Damn, he really ought to dust or something. That was gross. And then Dean was on his mouth, licking soda off his lips with a cold, wet tongue.

Sam squirmed, but he really didn’t want to get up anymore. Dean’s tongue and mouth were taking a lot of the fight out of him. That and the fact that the minute Dean’s mouth had closed over his he’d gotten hard enough to cut diamonds.

He kissed him back, chasing the caramel flavor from the soda to every part of Dean’s mouth. Dean never let go of his wrists, just moved to anchor them above his head, latching them together in one grip.

Dean pressed harder on Sam’s wrists as he leaned up to lick the drops on Sam’s cheeks, puff a laugh against his sticky hair.

“Just wait ‘till you’re asleep,” Sam warned.

“You’re gonna be too tired to do anything by then, Sammy.” His voice held the kind of promise that had waitresses all over America forgetting to add Dean’s order to the check, just for a chance to have him thank them with that fuck-you-later wink.

Dean moved to nibble at Sam’s jaw, then straightened and studied him.

“No hickeys? Been a good boy or can’t you find anyone to do you right?”

“I did come here for an education.” Shit, it was hard to sound superior when his brother’s mouth was making him pant.

“Gonna have to fix that.” But whether he was talking about the lack of hickeys or Sam’s desire for an education was unclear until Dean bit down on the side of his neck.

The sweet pain lit up nerves inside him that went straight to his already electrified dick. He bucked up and Dean pressed his arms into the floor.

“You’re gonna make me hit my head.” Dean’s chin jerked up to indicate the desk over them. “Told you these rooms were damned small.”

“You gonna talk or-“

Sam forgot the rest of that under the force of Dean’s wet-lipped smile. The smile the went with that wink, that went with that voice that got girls wet and guys hard and Sam fucking desperate.

“C’mon, Dean.”

“You really have been living like a monk, haven’t you?” Dean ground his hips against Sam’s. “You do know you just came, huh, Father Sam?”

“Shut up, Dean.”

Sam tried to free his wrists, but his heart wasn’t in it. He really just wanted Dean to tongue his way down his body and suck him off. Now. Right the fuck now, if you please.

Dean bent and kissed him again, biting at his lips, and Sam felt his brother’s dick rise against his own.

“Who just came?”

Dean groaned and nipped harder before licking away the pain. He kissed Sam again, a stinging buzz on his lips.

“Fuck, Dean. C’mon.” He begged against Dean’s mouth.

Dean nuzzled under his ear, wet and sharp.

“What do you want, Sam?”

“Your mouth.”

“Like this?”

A long slow kiss. Deep fucks with his tongue.

Sam tried again to push out of Dean’s grip, but his muscles, his brain, they just weren’t getting much blood.

“Then what do you want, Sammy?”

“Damn it, blow me. C’mon.”

Dean smiled and rolled up, releasing Sam’s wrists.

Dean’s hands stroked Sam’s sides, as his tongue laid a hot wet line down Sam’s sternum before circling his navel.

Sam shot up so fast when Dean’s tongue darted into his bellybutton that he cracked his head on the desk.

“C’mere.” Dean yanked on his ankles. “Let’s move, you giant freak. Shit, Sammy, I swear you grew another inch.”

“I did.” Sam’s legs weren’t too steady so he crawled up to sit on the edge of his bed. Dean knelt on the floor between his wobbly legs and that was just oh-fuck perfect: Dean looking up at him while his mouth slid down on Sam’s dick.

Goddamn! Sam flopped back. Dean was no longer the only person who’d had Sam’s dick in his mouth, but fuck did he know what to do with it when he got it there.

Dean rolled his tongue over the head, took him deep and Sam couldn’t remember anything but Dean, god, yes.

He’d missed this. Fucking hell, he’d missed this. No body knew just what to lick and suck on him like Dean. Nobody went down on him with that perfect right-now-there’s-nothing-else intensity of Dean. He managed to get his elbows under him to prop him high enough to watch Dean’s face.

His eyes were closed as his lips sealed around him, pulling on him hard while his tongue worked the head. Sam fought to keep his own eyes open. “Ughhnn. Dean, I’m gonna-”

Dean’s lids slipped up a fraction, framing those gone-dark eyes with his lashes and Sam felt his hips jerk once before it all burst out of him and flooded into Dean’s mouth. He watched his brother’s throat work on him, swallow his come, and that brought another spasm twisting through him. And he knew he’d yelled, shattering the silence of the Sunday night dorm. Well, his dormmates should be so lucky.

He collapsed on the bed, his chest heaving so hard he thought he’d break a fucking rib.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

Sam tried to raise his head, but it made him dizzy and he fell back on the bed. “Fuck.”

“Hmmm.” Dean kissed the inside of his thigh. “Told ya you’d be too tired to mess with me.”

“Gimme a minute.”

But the next thing he knew, Dean was shifting off the bed. Sam’s legs were tucked under the blankets, and the warmth next to him meant Dean had been lying beside him.

He blinked. Dean stood and wrapped a towel around his hips.

“This isn’t a coed floor, is it? Don’t want to give any college girls a heart attack.”

Sam shook himself awake. “Nah, but you might give Marcus down the hall some palpitations.”

“And you know this because . . .?”

Sam shrugged. He really didn’t know much about Marcus, except that he had a Playgirl style calendar over his desk. In the year he’d been in the dorm, Sam hadn’t seen a model in it yet that looked half as good as Dean. But right now, Dean looked pretty pissed, and it was a stupid thing to fight over. “It’s just a guess, okay?”

Dean made that grunt of assent that sounded more like a wolf with bronchitis.

He grabbed Sam’s shampoo, soap and razor and put his hand on the door. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“No, I’m good.” He sat up. “Can you find it?”

“Yeah, I think I can handle finding the bathroom. Why? Thinking of saving the college a little on their water bill?” Dean arched a brow.

Sam weighed the idea of getting caught in the shower with Dean against getting off in the shower with Dean. He checked his watch. One A. M. on a Monday. He looked at his brother again. “Maybe.”

Dean shrugged and disappeared through the door.

Sam scrambled up and followed. He was about to fool around with his brother in the dorm showers. Oh yeah, he was really nailing this whole normal thing.

Dean was in the last stall of the empty bathroom. The sounds of rushing water drumming on his skin echoed off the tiles as the steam awakened the ancient mold smells buried in the grout.

Sam threw his towel over the stall frame by way of warning, and Dean yanked open the door to greet him. His hair was sudsy, soap bubbles lingered in the hard edges of his chest muscles. Sam leaned in and popped a bubble right over his nipple. Dean flinched, though Sam hadn’t even touched his skin.

He stepped back so Sam could fit in under the spray, although Sam had to duck his head to keep from hitting the nozzle. The showers had been designed for midgets. Dean passed him soap. Sam grinned and soaped up Dean instead of himself, rubbing slick hands over every perfect muscle of his chest. Dean’s head fell back as he let Sam’s hands work the soap through the dips and plateaus, gentle on the bruises, harder along his flanks, fingers finally shifting around to knead at the tight muscles along his spine.

With a groan soft enough to stay hidden under the thrum of water, Dean turned to allow Sam better access to his back. Sam stroked, hands, knuckles, fingers rubbing away sweat and aches.

“There’s a career for ya, Sammy,” Dean purred. “Massage therapist.”

“No thanks.” He worked at the base of Dean’s neck. “I don’t really want to play touchy feely all day.”

“But you’re so good at it.”

“There’s other things you think I’m good at. Want me to get money for them, too?”

“I’ll break your neck first.”

Sam reached down and soaped Dean’s scrotum, his cock, feeling the blood start to thicken the flesh as he pulled with soapy fingers.

Sam tried not to think of suggestive the position was: Dean’s back to his front. But Dean’s dick was sliding through his slick fist, Sam’s own swelling cock just at the small of Dean’s back, the crease of his ass cradling the base. And all Sam could think of was close they were, how near to being inside each other. A little shifting and-but at that moment, he wanted Dean in him far more than he wanted to press into his brother.

He released Dean’s cock and handed off the soap. Dean’s protest was garbled by a mouthful of water as Sam turned him.

“Let’s see how your skills match up.” He offered his back to Dean.

Dean’s hands slid everywhere, holding and stroking, fingers teasing, palms pressing. Dean pulled Sam back against his chest. They glided against each other on the warm glaze of soap, slick as the oiled click of Dean cocking his favorite shotgun. Dean dragged his thumbs up and across Sam’s nipples. Before he could even gasp, Dean’s hands were teasing his balls. Sam’s hips jerked forward, and Dean gave him his fist to fuck.

Sam shifted now, up and down. Just a bit more and Dean would be right up against-

Dean’s hips jerked away, his hands on Sam’s hips holding him forward.

“No.” Dean’s voice was quiet, but it still vibrated against Sam’s ear. He sounded angry.

“I’m not sixteen anymore.”

Dean waved at the shower’s walls, as if to suggest the location was too public.

“We can go back to my room.”

“No.”

And in a flash of insight Sam knew everything Dean wasn’t saying. It was a moment when everything was unalterably clear, and Sam hadn’t felt so miserable since the bus stop and Dean had faded from view. They should have had a clean break then, but they’d kept it going through Dean’s infrequent trips to Palo Alto. The longer they kept this up, the worse the eventual end would be.

Dean was never going to stop hunting. Sam was never going to go back to it. Sooner or later, they were going to hit that realization hard enough to rip a giant hole in each other. The more they kept feeding this connection, the harder it was going to be to sever it. It may already be stretched so thin that if they weren’t getting each other off they were fighting, but that connection’s roots went so deep it was going to tear out a piece of their souls when it went. The only thing to do was to try to keep it from going deeper and make the break as clean as possible.

Dean started to drop to his knees, and Sam knew something else. Dean would never stop giving in to him, never stop coming to him as long as he thought Sam needed him as much as Dean needed Sam. Even as he stopped Dean with in a tight hug, he realized that this would have to be the last time.

Neither of them was ever going to change. Since Dean wouldn’t stop coming to see him, Sam would have to make him want to.

Then this was the last time. The last time he’d ever have Dean like this. He dragged a kiss from them both, could feel in Dean’s hot, desperate mouth that Dean knew it, too.

Sam dropped down, the overspill of emotion needing some kind of physical outlet. He angled Dean’s hips into the water, rinsing away the soap. Then the water was pounding on his neck as he licked the water from Dean’s clean skin. He drank it from his navel, from the hollow below, the tops of his hip bones.

His hands stroked the inside of Dean’s thighs, scratching lightly with his nails. “Sammy-”

He mouthed his balls gently, sliding his hands around to Dean’s ass. Above him, he felt his brother start to sway.

Sam was curled up on the floor; there was no room down here if Dean decided to join him, but Dean only bent forward and braced his hands against the opposite wall, palms smacking the tiles with a thick sound.

He gave Dean’s dick long popsicle licks, circling the crown like a special treat, teasing the ridge, flicking the tender spot underneath. Even through the rush of water, he could hear Dean’s breathing change above him, hear the effect of every little movement of his tongue. Heard it, felt it in the shudder of muscles under his hands, the jerk of hips that was quickly stilled.

He drew on the tip for a minute, then pulled off to murmur, “It’s all right.”

“God, Sammy, please don’t stop.” And then, “What?”

“It’s all right.” Another long lick, a press on the slit with the flat of his tongue.

“Ughnn. What?”

“It’s all right if you want to fuck my mouth.”

“Jesus.”

Sam rounded his lips over his teeth and swallowed the head. It was as if Dean had been waiting forever for that permission. His hips snapped forward again and again, bruising Sam’s lips, slamming the thick head to the back of his throat.

Yes, he would have told him if his mouth weren’t full of his cock. Take it for once in your life. Take what you want, what I want to give you. Just take it.

It was a brutal onslaught, the building ache in his jaw, fighting his gag reflex, fighting for breath, but he could feel his own dick rising against his stomach as he fed off Dean’s loss of control. Dean was finally fucking him, a ragged, tearing sound coming from his lips, broken words.

“So good . . . can’t . . . sorry . . . God, sorry . . . Sammy . . .”

Just when he thought he’d have to pull away, that he couldn’t take the pressure splitting his jaw anymore, he felt Dean’s ass tense under his hands, knew he was going to come. Part of him wanted to watch Dean shoot, to see him splatter white come against the blue tiles, but stronger than that was the need to taste him, to drink him down this last time, knowing how much Dean loved coming down his throat.

Dean burst in his mouth: salt, bitter, hot, perfect. Dean. He sucked him through it, lapped the softening skin, held him in his mouth until Dean pulled away, with a cry as bitter and sweet as his come.

“Jesus. Your mouth, your mouth.” Dean’s thumb rubbed over his sore lips. “Fucking hell, Sammy. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.”

With one last press of his thumb on Sam’s swollen lips, Dean straightened up. Sam picked himself off the floor, and Dean steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

“As soon as we get back to your room,” Dean’s voice was light, like he was just starting one of his could-Batman-take-Spiderman-in-a-fight conversations. “I am gonna make you come so hard you’ll see stars.”

“Like you just did?”

“Maybe.” Dean planted a soft kiss on Sam’s burning lips.

It was on the tip of Sam’s aching tongue to say I’ll have to do better next time and then he remembered. There wasn’t going to be a next time. Tomorrow Dean would be gone, and this time he wouldn’t be coming back the next time Eli went home for a holiday.

Back on Sam’s narrow bed, Dean made good on his promise. His fingers worked Sam’s cock, hard pulls, twists, the press of his thumb on the leaking head. His mouth kept time with his strokes, deep kisses, nibbles, bites, flicks on nipples, ears, jaws. Dean’s finger hooked just perfectly under the ridge of his crown. Sam felt as if the next touch might be enough to push him over the edge, but Dean kept stopping just in time to leave Sam gasping, hanging, desperate to come.

Dean kept him waiting, as if prolonging this could fix it, fix them somehow. In those moments when Sam didn’t have to come so bad he felt like his body was about to go into seizures, he wanted Dean to keep on touching him, keep touching him so that later, Sam wouldn’t be able to move any part of his body without thinking of Dean’s mouth or hands on it.

“Gonna see stars?” Dean murmured against his neck.

“Yesssss.” The word disappeared in a hiss as Dean paired quick hard strokes with a deep bite on his shoulder.

Sam bucked into his fist, and Dean’s teeth released his skin as his brother licked it whispering, “Please, Sammy. Wait for my mouth.”

Jesus

The words alone were just almost, god, almost enough to send him over the edge. Dean dove down, his hand and mouth working together, a perfect constant sensation of hot, wet pressure, slide, suck-Holy fucking god. The explosion built in him one last time, rearing up inside him like something separate from his body, a piece of him that was trying to rush out and he swore to god Dean was sucking his fucking soul out through his dick. Sam came, heat and sparks that went on forever. The stars were black, red, purple, white, bursting behind tightly squeezed eyelids.

Dean lay on his belly, an irritatingly superior chuckle rumbling against him.

“Stars?”

“Bite me.”

“Did already.” Dean pressed a finger on the swelling bruise, and Sam felt it tingle with nothing like the pain he should be feeling.

“Fuck you.” It was barely a murmur and completely lacking heat. Dean was unimpressed.

“College has had a terrible effect on your vocabulary, bro.”

“Fuck you to hell and back.”

“Might be fun. Not much better. Where’s your creativity?”

“Cocksucker.”

“Yeah, but I’m so good at it.” Dean smacked his lips and nipped Sam’s belly.

Sam felt himself start to drift off to sleep as Dean crawled up his body to settle against his neck.

“So. How long you got left here?”

“It’s not a prison, Dean.”

“Yeah, in jail at least they don’t make you go to class. So you in some kind of accelerated program or something, you geek?”

“No. Just the usual.”

“So how long?”

“I don’t know. I might want to go to graduate school.”

“More school?”

Sam didn’t need to see the disgusted look on Dean’s face. His voice was dripping with disdain.

“God, Sam, aren’t you sick of it yet? You know, we could really use a little help now and then. Summers, maybe.”

“Dean, I’m not coming back.”

“I know you’re not now, but-”

“I’m never coming back. You heard what Dad said.”

“He was pissed, Sam, but I know he’d-”

“I’m not coming back. I’m never hunting again.”

“Sammy-”

This was it. This was really it. At least he didn’t have to pretend to be angry. Dean’s blind loyalty to Dad and hunting hadn’t changed anymore than his assumption that Sam would come to his senses and come back to that fucked up life.

“No. Not now. Not summers, not ever.” He pushed himself out from under Dean and sat up, leaning against the wall. “Dean, you’ve gotta listen to me.”

His brother’s eyes were wary, watchful. “I’m hearing you just fine, Sam.”

“I am done with hunting. This is my chance at a normal life and I’m taking it. And you,” he licked lips gone too fucking dry, “you’ve got to stop trying to drag me back into it by my dick.”

And everything froze. Like he needed this minute to go on any longer than sixty seconds. But it seemed he was going to get to remember in every fucking detail exactly how closed and cold his brother’s face got.

Dean didn’t say another word. He got up from the bed and dressed, pulling clothes out of the duffel he’d brought, rolling up the ones he’d ripped off earlier. Every movement was perfectly controlled. Sam felt about five seconds away from throwing up.

Dean shrugged the duffel onto his shoulder and looked at him. Everything, his hands, his eyes, his jaw was perfectly still. He jerked his chin and gave a ghost of a smile. “Goodbye, Sam.”

And he was gone.

Really gone. And now Sam knew just how deep that connection went as he felt it come tearing out from his toenails.

*

Part Two

supernatural, fic

Previous post Next post
Up