Tears
It never happens right away, but Sam can be patient. He’s become remarkably accurate at predicting how many strokes it will take, how many cuts or burns, but sometimes Dean still surprises him.
Tonight is one of those times and Sam smiles and puts down his blade. He spreads Dean out beneath him, fucks him roughly. Words have always been a weapon Sam can wield and he uses them to brutally rape Dean’s psyche.
Pathetic. Useless. Your fault.
Finally, tears begin to fall. Sam catches each one on his tongue, a salty river that doesn’t begin to slake his thirst.
Many thanks to dante_s_hell for this exchange after an earlier drabble:
dantes_hell:: Oooh, licking raindrops from his lips. I love, love that image.
Me: It's pretty hot, isn't it?
dantes_hell: Yes, it is hot! Maybe the next could be licking sweat? Or, even better, tears? For the Acoustics 'verse?
So here you go dante, and thanks again!
Next: Impala