Jadeadore's Fanfiction

Jensen manip. No nudity, just shirtless.

Tue, 25 Aug 2009 15:17:10 GMT

So I finally decided to start practicing on doing manips. This one was easy, but I hope I'll learn more difficult tricks soon.

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Fic: The Real World (Sam/Dean, NC-17, sequel to Kidnapped)

Thu, 20 Aug 2009 12:27:14 GMT

Author: Jade
Genre: Slash, drama, suspense and yet another twisted twist.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: A little over 6,000
Warnings: Violence, graphic m/m sex, bad language. All the good stuff.
Disclaimer: They own me.
Summary: Sequel to Kidnapped. Some questions are answered, but they only raise more.
A/N: Sorry it took so long to post this. I hate my real life sometimes. ;)

It had been seven days since the day Dean found out about Sam, and the way his little brother had changed. That day shook Dean to his very core, and he still didn’t know what to do or what to think about all of that. Sam had changed. Dean knew that Sam had demon blood in him, had known for quite some time now, but this? This was totally different. Totally and utterly unexpected.

Werewolf blood.

He remembered the moment Sam turned around, golden eyes glowing as they looked at Dean, but there was no threat in those eyes. Sam wasn’t looking at him like he was a prey and Sam was a predator, instead Dean saw something twisted in those eyes, and if he didn’t know better, he could have sworn it was affection. And he was not even sure if he knew better.

And goddammit he was confused.

Sam was gone now. After those last words –”Not all the way, anyway” -he had just vanished. He had been gone for seven days now, and no matter what Sam was or might be now, Dean still missed him. Sam was still a part of him, like a limp, and Dean felt incomplete, like that limp had been amputated, ripped off of him, but the phantom ache was there, and every waking moment it reminded him of Sam.

Where are you, little brother?

Sam stood in the shadows. It was dark, but with his new eyes the night was as clear as day. He saw Dean sitting on Bobby’s porch, nursing a bottle of beer and looking lost.

Sam wanted to go to him, to touch him, to smell him, but he knew it was too soon. He had to wait, give Dean time to think this through until his brother had come into some sort of conclusion.

Would he start hunting Sam? Sam knew he wasn’t human anymore. Partially, yes, but now with two different kinds of cursed blood pumping through his veins he knew, that he had become one of the things they hunted, or, as it was for Sam now, used to hunt.

He had no idea if he even was a hunter anymore, or if he had turned into a prey. Or if he should turn into a predator that hunted hunters. But that didn’t seem appealing. He knew he hadn’t changed that much. His senses were higher, all of them, and he had more strength than he had had before, but he didn’t turn into a werewolf during the full moon. He didn’t crave for blood or human flesh. The idea of ripping someone’s heart out and eating it was disgusting.

What the hell am I?

Dean stared into the darkness of the night, and he could almost swear he could feel Sam, his presence, like Sam was somewhere near, and if that was true, Dean really didn’t know if he should have felt worried or relieved.

Maybe there was still something left of Sam. There had to be a part that wasn’t a beast but still his brother. Sam used to be so kind, so gentle and sensitive, and the idea of Sam –Sammy, his Sammy –turning to a bloodthirsty predator just didn’t make any sense. There had to be Sam, his brother, his lover, still inside of what he had become. Sam had fought the demon blood in him, hadn’t given in to darkness, and Dean had to believe that Sam would fight this as well. Sam was strong, and Dean needed to believe that Sam would win this battle as well.

He knew that it maybe was all just wishful thinking, but he couldn’t even think about the fact that he might have lost Sam for good. It simply hurt too much. So much he didn't even want to think about it, but that was easier said than done. Sam was under his skin, so deep that Dean didn't think he could ever get his little brother out.

He didn't know if he even wanted to.

In the darkness Dean thought he saw a pair of glowing eyes, but just shrugged and concentrated on his beer. It was probably just a cat, eyes reflecting the dim light coming from the lantern hanging on Bobby’s porch.

Just a cat, nothing more.

Sam stared at Dean, he couldn’t help it, and for a short moment he could’ve sworn that Dean was looking right at him, their eyes meeting for a second, until Dean shrugged and looked back at his bottle like the piece of glass could provide him some answers. Dean looked miserable, and Sam felt like there were two different forces fighting inside of him. The other part of him was sickly satisfied because hey, he had spent two weeks in that damn underground prison thinking he was going insane, and all the time Dean had known where he was but hadn’t even left a note. One simple note –‘I’m okay. This is all for a reason. Trust me on this.’ –would have been enough, but no, Dean just let him dwell in his insecurity and fear until they were almost drowning him. And the fear of dying...

All his life Sam had been afraid for Dean, for Dad, afraid that they would get hurt and die, but he had never been afraid for himself. But in that small space where silence had been his only company, Sam had learned how it felt to be afraid for himself. And Dean had brought that upon him. Dean had taught him how it felt to fear death.

Dean deserves to feel miserable.

Sam blinked. No, he didn’t really mean that. Did he? All these different emotions were making him feel like he didn't know anything about anything anymore, the ambivalence inside him tearing him in two, the dark part of him wanting to make his brother suffer just as Sam had suffered.

Then there was that other part, the part that felt Dean’s pain like it was his own, and his heart ached when he looked at his brother, so lost, so alone. Dean looked pale, thinner than a week ago, and when Sam looked deeper, with his new eyes, he suddenly flinched and stumbled few steps back like he had been hit in the face.

There was a dark glow surrounding Dean. His aura. Sam gasped. This had never happened before; he had never before been able to see people’s auras. The glow around Dean was dark and purple, the color of a fresh bruise, sore and throbbing and aching, and for a moment Sam wondered if he had caused that, hurt Dean mentally so bad that now even his brother’s aura was injured and dark.

Sam couldn’t take it anymore, his head hurt more and more the longer he looked at Dean, like the first times when he had started exorcising demons with his mind. He stumbled back into the night, turned around and ran, and his steps didn’t make a sound as he rushed over dead ground and dry, frozen leaves.

He ran and ran until he couldn’t feel Dean’s pain anymore, but it was still there. A phantom ache. Not as strong as when he had been so close to Dean, but still there, reminding him exactly how bad things were now. And he hated it.

He was out of breath, but not because of physical exhaustion. These days he could run over five miles without even breaking a sweat. No, he simply couldn’t breath because suddenly he was scared. It had been a week since he had changed, and every day he found out something new, some new ability, and he was afraid. He had no idea if the changing would go on, if it had stopped, or if it ever would. He had no idea if he was turning into a monster, and God, he would’ve wanted to talk to Dean, confess his fear and insecurity, pray Dean to tell him that everything would be alright, but he couldn’t. It was too soon, and on the other hand Sam was afraid that later it would simply be too late.

Maybe Dean would finally have to make good of his promise he had made to Dad and kill Sam.

Maybe he deserved to die. He was an anomaly, a freak, partly human, partly demon and now partly a werewolf too. He had never heard of a combination like that before, and he had no idea of what he was or what he would become.

Maybe he should go to Dean and ask him to put a silver bullet in his little brother’s heart. But somehow Sam had a feeling that no matter what, Dean wouldn’t do it. And Sam knew the exact reason why...

Damn Dean for loving him so much! And damn Sam for loving his brother at least as much, if not even more. Damn them both and their sick, dysfunctional love for each other...

Dean woke up in the middle of the night. It was not a sound that woke him; the room was silent as a grave. It was the presence, the stillness of the air, the realization that it was simply too silent. Someone was in the room. Dean reached under his pillow by pure instinct, but before he could reach his bowie knife, he heard a calm voice from the dark.

“It’s not there.” The voice said. “I took it. Just a precaution.”

Dean’s heart beat faster. That voice. The voice he had craved to hear for days, ever since... “Sam?”

There was a moment of silence and then Sam’s voice again. It was silent and somehow blank. “Yeah. At least what’s left of me.”

“Don’t talk like that, Sam…” Dean said quietly, hurt growing inside him, an invisible knife carving up his insides. “You are my brother.” And so much more… “And that will never change. Sam…” A tiny moment of hesitation. “Please let me see you.”

There was silence again, silence that seemed to go on and on and on before Sam finally spoke again. Just one word: “Okay.” Dean could almost hear Sam shrugging.

Dean steeled himself, prepared for golden eyes and every other possible changes that might have taken over Sam, and his hand shook slightly as he reached to the bedside lamp, hesitating there for a fraction of a second before flicking the switch. The room filled with soft orange glow.

Sam sat on a chair little farther, shadows covering his eyes. Dean looked at him, pain and joy mixing in his chest. He looked closer. “Sammy…” His voice was choked and full of emotion. Finally Sam looked up.

Sam’s eyes were not golden. They were the familiar hazel, the color Dean had memorized and knew all the way through. And Sam looked like he had always looked, like the past week had been only a bad dream and nothing had really changed. Sam was still beautiful.

“Why did you run?” Dean asked and Sam smiled a little, looking away and then looking back at Dean.

“I needed time.” He bit his lower lip. “I think you needed too.”

Dean sat up on the bed, a sheet covering his lower body, upper body bare. “I never wanted you to run away from me.”

“I didn’t run from you.” Sam’s voice was still a little blank. “I ran from myself.”

Dean's expression was a mixture of frustration and sadness. “Why?”

Sam laughed, and the sound of it was a little scary. It was bitter and joyless. “Why?” Sam asked. “Because I suddenly realized that I’m a whole new level of freak. I didn’t know what I was, I still don’t know. At least now after a little soul searching –if I even have one anymore –I know I could never hurt you. A week ago I wasn’t so sure about that. I had to isolate myself until I was sure.”

Dean swallowed, didn't know what to say, so the thing he asked next was the only thing he could. Rational, neutral. “So where were you?”

“Around.” Sam said and Dean knew that tone. Asking for more details would only make Sam close up into himself.

“I missed you.” Dean finally said after a long silence, and Sam laughed again.

“Missed me? Dean, I’m a monster.”

“No.” Dean said firmly and stood up, not caring about the sheet that fell around his ankles or about the fact that underneath it he was naked. “You’re not a monster. You’re mine, Sammy. Mine.” Dean walked to Sam and knelt in between his legs, looked at him sternly, refusing to turn his eyes away before Sam looked back. “And besides, you don’t look any different.”

Sam smiled slightly. “You mean the eyes? Yeah, well…” He sighed. “I can control them. Which is a blessing since with them… It’s like switching into a different level of seeing, and the things I see…” Sam licked his lips. “Let’s just say that I wish I didn’t have to see all of them.”

Dean frowned. “What do you see?”

Sam thought for a while before answering. “Pretenders.”

“I have no idea of what you’re talking about. Pretenders? Like the band? Sorry.” Dean shook his head like it would clear his head. “What the hell are those?”

Sam looked away for a moment, and it looked like he was thinking hard of how to explain.

“They’re people.” Sam finally said. “People with abilities. Most of them are not even aware of the abilities they have. Psychics –not like me –, sensers… They’re not so bad. Just humans. Like when you see a schizophrenic mumbling in the street, it might be just a psychic who hasn’t learn to block the voices out. The cacophony of thousand different thoughts of different people going through your head might be... a little too much sometimes…” Sam looked away again. “But then there are other things. Things that are not humans but pretend to be. I can see their true forms, Dean, and God, I wish I couldn’t.” Sam’s voice got more agitated, almost desperate. “There are things I’ve never seen, things that I didn’t even know existed. So many different things, wearing meatsuits like demons but they’re not demons…”

Dean didn’t know what to think. “So what are they?”

“I don’t know.” Sam whispered and sounded so helpless and fragile that once again Dean didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything, just waited for Sam to continue.

“I have no idea.” Sam finally said quietly. “But they’re there, in the dark. And there are other things… things I didn’t see before. This far I’ve seen a seraphim, a pyro and an ogre. Well, ogres are easy to spot even without heightened senses but somehow they manage to keep themselves hidden. But I can sense them. I can sense when there’s evil around.”

Dean was even more confused. “A seraphim… You mean like in the lore of some kind of ancient race of warrior angels?”

“Actually they’re more like supernatural healers. They’re not evil, but I’m not sure they’re entirely good either or for whom do they work for, if for anyone. They’re not demons but surely not angels either. But whatever they are, they’re powerful and even the meanest monsters seem to be afraid of them.”

“And ogres?” Dean couldn’t help but smirk. “So, are they like Shreck? Green and dumb and—“

“Far from it.” Sam said and there was no sign of amusement in his voice. “They’re mean, and I mean truly evil. They eat babies, Dean. And they eat their meals alive.”

Dean grimaced. That was one image he didn't want inside his head.

“You’re right about one thing though.” Sam continued. “They’re not exactly the sharpest tools in the shed, but trust me, what they lack in intelligence, they replace with rage and strength, and those they have. One almost killed me four days ago before I managed to kill it first.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “You’ve been hunting?” He didn't know if he was hurt or scared or worried or all of them.

Sam shrugged. “What else should I have done? I needed to feel like I’m still me, and hunting is the only thing that makes me feel I’m not completely evil.”

So, Sam had killed an ogre. Dean didn’t really want to hear details of that kill, but in his mind he could see Sam moving gracefully like a wild animal circling its prey, golden eyes glowing. He really didn’t want to ask the next question, but he had to. “So, have you killed anything else?”

Dean could feel how Sam’s body went stiff, could feel the silent hurt radiating from him. “You mean have I killed humans.”

“No, Sam, I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Yeah you did.” Sam simply said and his tone held no arguments. “And the answer is no. I killed one pretender who had an ability to reach inside people’s minds and dig out information, like their credit card numbers and stuff like that.”

It was Dean’s time to stiffen. “Sam, we do credit card scams.”

Sam smiled joylessly. “Yeah, but ours don’t have the side effect of killing the people we take advantage of. This guy? Didn’t stop until he had all the info dug out and his victims brain arteries exploded.”

“Oh…” was all Dean could say.

Seriously, what else he could have said?

Dean couldn’t sleep. His thoughts were a mess. He had asked, almost pleaded Sam to stay, but Sam had said he had things to do and left, and Dean couldn’t hold him back.

Dean wondered what Sam was doing right now. Was he hunting things in the dark, things they hadn’t even knew existed? Were his eyes glowing golden as he stalked his prey before going for the kill? Was he moving like a predator, circling and playing with his prey before finishing it?

Sam was a predator. Dean knew it now. His little brother had changed. He had said he hadn’t killed a human being, but when he had told about how he had killed the ogre, Dean saw a flash of gold in his little brother’s eyes. Dean couldn’t help the feeling that the biggest change in Sam was that now he enjoyed hunting, enjoyed the stalking and hiding in the shadows, and that was not like Sam who used to think killing things was the necessary evil, always questioning if they were doing the right thing and if the things they killed even were really evil and really deserved to die.

It was like Sam had defended the things they hunted, but now he killed without mercy.

When Dean finally fell asleep, he dreamed of Sam. Sam was standing on a dark alley, hiding in the shadows next to a filthy wall, covered with graffiti, and Dean could almost smell the stench of urine and rotting garbage. Then a figure appeared to the alley and Sam smiled and stepped out of the shadows. The thing looked a little surprised but not really scared. Not even when Sam’s eyes turned golden. The thing smiled back, like it recognized Sam and stepped closer. The smile died when Sam stepped closer as well, attacked the thing so fast that the creature didn’t have a chance to escape. Sam’s smile never faded as he whispered something into the creature’s ear, but Dean couldn’t hear the words. Then, with one smooth motion, Sam flicked open a silver switchblade and stabbed the thing straight into the heart, and when the knife was all the way inside, Sam twisted the blade, and the creature screamed. Sam was still smiling as he pulled the bloody knife out, stabbed his prey’s neck cutting the spinal cord, and the body fell useless down to the ground. Sam watched the lifeless corpse for a moment, then wiped the blade clean with the corpse’s jacket and left the alley. His eyes were back in their hazel color, but there was still something wild in them. Something uncontrollable. Something dangerous.

Dean woke up, body covered with cold sweat and his heart hammering in his chest so hard that for a moment he was afraid of having a heart attack.

In a town few dozen miles away Sam walked away from the alley where the lifeless corpse of a young werewolf lay between trashcans like a broken abandoned doll. He didn’t look back, and in few seconds the satisfaction of the kill was gone and he felt nothing at all.

“Heard of your brother yet?” Bobby asked when Dean dragged himself downstairs next morning. Bobby still didn’t know the truth. He thought Sam had left because he was angry after finding out what had been done to him, and Dean hadn’t corrected him. What could he say? Yeah, the monkshood shot had worked… partially. Bobby didn’t know that Sam had been there last night, and Dean didn’t know if his dream was just a dream, or if in some level he was connected to Sam so strongly he could see what his little brother was doing.

But why now? The whole week Sam had been gone Dean hadn’t even known if Sam was alive or where he was, and then suddenly he has this most vivid, most realistic dream ever, like he was standing on that same alley, watching Sam kill as easily as some people do grocery shopping and then walking away without even bothering to burn the body and hide the evidence?

Dean remembered how Sam had held the creature close to him, whispering in its ear, and in the dim light of the alley it had almost looked like they were lovers, embraced in tight caress, and when Dean thought of Sam as a lover, a sharp wave of arousal somewhere low in his abdomen almost made him bend in half and Bobby looked at him, worried.

“Kid, you alright?”

“Yeah…” Dean grunted. “I’m fine. Just…” Dean turned around and stumbled back upstairs because he was suddenly so hard it hurt. He went to the bathroom, almost tore his clothes off in his hurry to get naked, set the water temperature as hot as he could bear and stepped under the spray. In the shower he jerked off, hard and fast, one hand braced against the wall and head thrown back, and when he came, his brother’s name spilled out of his lips as his seed spilled in his hand.

The next night Dean woke up again, and this time he didn’t have to waste a thought for who was in the room with him. He could feel Sam, smell him, almost taste him.

“You came back.” Dean said quietly, not moving.

“I did.” Sam said from the dark, and he was closer now, sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed. “I had to see you.”

“It’s pitch dark.” Dean pointed out. Sam smiled. Dean couldn’t see it but he knew Sam was smiling.

“I can still see you.”

Dean was silent for a long time. “Did you kill it?” He finally asked. “Last night?”

“Yes.” Sam simply answered.

“What was it?”

“A newborn werewolf.” Dean knew Sam was smiling again. “Was so happy to see me too. One of his own kind. Too bad he was wrong about that.”

Dean was silent for a long time again. “What are you?” He asked when the silence had continued for few minutes. “Just what are you now, Sam?”

“I’m your brother, remember?” Dean could hear Sam wasn’t smiling anymore. “I’m yours.”

Those words triggered something inside of Dean and he grabbed Sam in the dark and forced his little brother on his back on the mattress. “You little piece of shit…” Dean growled. “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was about you??”

“Easy…” Sam whispered. “You’ll wake up Bobby.”

“Fuck you.” Dean growled and then his mouth was on Sam’s, and the whimper that escaped from Sam’s throat was so familiar, so Sam, that it ripped off the last remains of Dean’s self-control. He tore Sam’s clothes off, kissed him brutally, bit him hard enough to draw blood and clawed his skin, leaving red marks all over Sam’s body. He simply couldn’t get enough of Sam, and when Sam was completely naked, Dean let out another guttural growl and tore his own clothes off, forced Sam on his stomach and attacked his ass, pushed his tongue inside Sam’s tight hole and Sam gasped for air. Dean ate him out, pushed a finger inside along with his tongue and Sam bit the pillow to prevent himself from screaming. This was wild, this was bestial, and it was everything Sam wanted and more.

Dean grabbed Sam’s hips and forced his ass up, his hands were rough and unforgiving, and so was the first thrust as Dean sank inside of Sam to the root, and Sam had to bite the pillow until Dean pulled out and thrust inside again, and this time Sam’s back arched and he threw his head back but no sound came out, just a silent scream as Dean ravaged his body, drove fast and hard and deep, and Sam had lost his voice, he had lost himself, he was a part of Dean and Dean was a part of him and it was perfect.

My mate, the wolf inside him whispered and Sam closed his eyes, his mouth open and his body rocking back and forth with the force of Dean’s thrusts and he didn’t even have to touch his own cock because his mate was giving him all he needed, and he came with a full body shudder and a muffled cry.

A moment after that Dean went still, stopped breathing for a second, his body spasming as he spilled inside of Sam, hips jerking as he gasped for air and finally when the spasms subsided, he bent down against Sam’s back and hugged him from behind, moved them so that he was spooning Sam from behind, still buried inside him. Dean held him close and kissed the curve where Sam’s neck met his shoulder.

“You were right about one thing.” Dean whispered. “You are mine.”

“Always.” Sam confirmed and closed his eyes.

“I see you boys kissed and made up.”

Sam opened his eyes, and for a moment he was terrified because it was Bobby, standing on the door and looking at them, and Sam had had no intentions of staying till morning, he had planned of leaving in the middle of the night but Dean’s presence had been so comforting he hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep. Dean just mumbled something in his sleep and tightened his hold around Sam, and Sam was grateful for the sheet that covered them from the waist down.

“Good to see you, Sam.” Bobby finally said. “We were worried about you. There’s breakfast in the kitchen if you’re hungry.” Before he turned to leave he looked at Sam one more time. “I really mean it, it’s good to see you kid. Welcome back.”

Sam closed his eyes again when Bobby left. You have no idea, Bobby. I’m not back, and I never will be. I’m simply not me anymore.

“Stop thinking so loud…” Dean muttered. “It’s disturbing my sleep.”

“Good morning for you too.” Sam retorted and smacked Dean upside the head before kissing him so passionately it took another thirty minutes before they actually managed to get up and go downstairs for breakfast. Bobby gave them a knowing look but didn’t say anything.

The thing was, that Bobby still wasn’t sure of what he should think of Sam and Dean’s relationship. But as he watched those two on the breakfast table, bickering and teasing, touching each other when they thought Bobby didn’t see, he realized that even though the boys were brothers, the idea of them being lovers didn’t make him feel disgusted.

In some level Bobby had always known that the bond that the brothers shared was something he couldn’t explain. Probably no one could. The thing was, that without Sam there was no Dean, and without Dean there was no Sam. Without each other they were incomplete, but when they were together…

Bobby knew that love crossed all boundaries, and finding true love was so rare that when it happened, it was something that had to be held on. Even if the love was not socially accepted and illegal in all fifty states.

The most important thing was, that when Bobby looked at the boys, all he could see was love and affection, and for the first time he could actually admit to himself that no matter how wrong it may be in the eyes of others, Bobby couldn’t judge them. Not when he finally saw the truth, and the truth was that those two were made for each other, like two pieces of a puzzle that fit so perfectly together that it would’ve been cruel and insane to try and separate them.

“I wanna come with you.” Dean said the next day.

Sam smirked. “Again? Just yesterday we—“

“No, Sam.” Dean was serious. “I want to come with you the next time you go hunting.”

Sam looked away and licked his lips. Finally he looked back at Dean and there were no excuses in his voice, just the honest truth. “I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”

“Sam, I was hunting when you were still playing with action figures.”

“That’s not what I mean…” Sam sighed. “What I mean is that these things are something you have never hunted before. And I’m scared that you’ll see their true form and freak out.” Too late Sam realized what he had just said.

Dean’s expression was unreadable. “What do you mean, ‘see their true form’? You see them, I don’t. Just tell me who to shoot or stab and it’ll go just fine, ‘kay?”

“They’re mean.”

Dean shrugged. “So am I.”

After a lot of arguing, reasoning and plain fighting Sam finally agreed to take Dean with him. Sam knew he had to take this easy, find a simple prey, but he was still scared. The connection between them was so strong, that Sam feared the worst. But he had to assure himself that his fears were groundless to keep himself calm. He had to keep his wits, just in case something went wrong. He had to be strong, for Dean.

When the darkness fell, they left, drove to the city and parked the car few blocks away from where Sam had sensed a Pretender.

“It’s a pyro. “ Sam said and closed his eyes, concentrated. “Not very strong. They use their hosts until they destroy them and then find another one, and this one is looking for a new host.” Sam opened his eyes, “Should be an easy kill.”

“Well, let’s go then.”

Dean walked few steps ahead of him, and Sam saw his aura. It was not the color of a bruise anymore; instead it was flaming red. Excitement. Or rage. Sam hoped it was the first one. Rage numbed senses, made you vulnerable and careless. Sam had learned that with Pretenders the most important thing was to keep cool. If it was an older werewolf, wait for it to make the first move and anticipate their next one. Newly born ones were easier. With ogres, go straight for the kill, attack first and do it fast, because even though ogres were slow, they were strong as hell and they only needed one change to grab you, and that meant almost without exceptions a certain death.

Sam saw the pyro standing on the street, looking around, eyes scanning its surroundings to find a new meatsuit. But he didn’t see the young man who’s body the Pretender had invaded. He saw its true form. Its skin was red and blistered, thick smoke rising from it.

“That’s it.” Sam said quietly to Dean. “That’s a pyro.” He looked at Dean and it felt like his blood turned to ice in his veins. Dean looked like he was frozen where he stood, eyes wide, glued to the Pretender.

“I see it.” Dean whispered. “I see it.”

Sam closed his eyes. Oh God, no… He opened his eyes and his voice was blank as he whispered: “Dean, calm down.”

“I shouldn’t see it.” Dean kept repeating. “Why am I seeing it?”

“Dean!”

The pyro had sensed them. It turned around, its mouth opened and in the eyes of others it might looked like a young irritated man instead of the outraged burning corpse it really was, and the sound that came from its mouth might came out as something like ‘stop following me’, when it was actually shrieking, the sound like broken glass and cat claws against a chalkboard.

Dean flinched at the sound and then it was like he was waking up from a dream as his body moved. Sam knew he was yelling Dean’s name but didn’t hear it, it was like he was underwater and everything moved too slow, everything was stiff and fluid at the same time, going on slow-motion. Muffled.

The pyro prepared itself for an attack. Too late. Dean was already there, growling and throwing a punch against its jaw. The creature stumbled back, then raised its arm to block another punch that didn’t come because Dean had already moved behind it and slit its throat open with one strong move.

Sam watched. He was relieved and terrified. In the darkness of night cold met warm as silver met blood. The body twitched on the ground, and Sam walked to it and to his brother, holding out his hand.

“I’ll finish it.”

Dean didn’t reply, didn’t even look at him as he gave Sam the knife and Sam took it, swallowed and did what had to be done. One stab to the neck cut the spinal cord and the creature was dead. Sam didn’t know why, but it seemed to kill them. Just like in zombie movies the zombies die when you shoot them in the head but no one asks why. Same thing, only much too real.

Dean was waiting in the car when Sam got there, still not looking at him, and Sam let him be. After a moment of silent driving Dean’s voice broke the silence with one word: “Explain.”

Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Dreams and nightmares, all things said and done… Nothing could have changed this, could it?

“Welcome to the Real World.” Sam said quietly and knew the exact moment where everything had gone wrong.

“What are you trying to say, Sam?” Dean asked incredulously. “So you… infected me?” He had stopped the car after realizing that maybe he shouldn’t be driving in his state of mind.

“I bit you.” Sam said and stared at the empty road ahead of them, afraid to meet Dean’s eyes. “I bit you. The first time after we… when you brought me back from the cellar and we… I bit you.”

Silence.

“Sammy, that was a love bite.” Dean tried to laugh but Sam heard how forced it was. “It wasn’t a werewolf bite.”

“Because I’m not a werewolf.” Sam tried to keep his thoughts together even when it felt like his world was spiraling down and drowning in nightmares. “But it was me.”

“And what are you?” Dean asked, sounding tired. Sam looked up into the sky.

“I have no idea. Some kind of human, demon, werewolf hybrid?”

“Well, as far as I know I don’t have any demon blood in me, so what the hell?”

“I really don’t know, Dean.”

Dean was quiet for a while. Then he shrugged. “Let’s go back to Bobby’s. It’s getting cold.”

Sam didn’t disagree, so Dean started the car, feeling somewhat calmer now, and they drove back to the junkyard in silence.

TBC...

Fic: DAMAGED (Sam/Dean, R)

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 13:24:32 GMT

Author: Jade
Genre: Angst.
Pairing: Sam/Dean (SLASH)
Rating: R
Wordcount: About 3,700.
Warnings: Incest (oh, what a surprise!)
Disclaimer: Just playing around with Kripke's toys.
Summary:Sam feels like such a phony. All his life he has wanted to think of himself as the ‘normal’ one of this family, but now, along these feelings he has been forced to consider the fact if his quest towards normalcy has been just a desperate attempt to escape who he really is. Just a pathetic play he set for himself because it’s so much easier to lie than face the truth.

A/N: I started to write this last summer with pen and paper, then lost the papers, finally found them and decided to finish the story. So if it seems fragmented, it's because there was over six month break when I didn't write.

Another shot of tequila burns his throat on its way down and spreads warmth in his stomach as it settles there. It feels good: the burn, the warmth. The oblivion it provides when he drinks enough, but he hasn’t drank nearly enough, not yet. It is still there, the feeling. The feeling he hates more than anything, and it refuses to go away.

Sam Winchester has always been logical. He doesn’t act on impulses, is rarely spontaneous. But this feeling is out of control. He simply can’t control it, doesn’t know what to do with it. Oh well, he does know what he should do; nothing, absolutely nothing, but it’s never that easy and no matter how hard he tries, the feeling doesn’t go away and it’s driving him insane.
He doesn’t remember when it all started. Well, he has a clue, but he prefers to stay in self-denial. It’s so much easier that way.

He downs another shot of burning amber liquor and sighs. He thinks about his brother, even when Dean is the last thing he wants to think of right now. Sam has always been honest to himself, honest to others. Lately he has not been, one way or another. Maybe it is time for a little honesty; at least for himself because come Hell or high water, Sam knows he can never be honest about this to his brother. Not about this.

It probably started when Sam was thirteen, maybe twelve, maybe even younger. The way he looked up to Dean and wanted to be like him; wanted to be him. Sam never looked up to his father like he did to his brother. Dad was never there.

Dean was always there.

Maybe that was the problem to begin with.

Sam feels like such a phony. All his life he has wanted to think of himself as the ‘normal’ one of this family, but now, along these feelings he has been forced to consider the fact if his quest towards normalcy has been just a desperate attempt to escape who he really is. Just a pathetic play he set for himself because it’s so much easier to lie than face the truth. And lying to yourself is even more pathetic than lying to others.

The more Sam drinks, the easier it gets to be honest. Dean was his hero when Sam grew up. Always was, still is. And there lies the problem. When they were younger, it was simple hero-worshiping from the younger brother towards the older one, but they’re not kids anymore, and Sam’s worshiping towards Dean has nothing to do with heroism. It’s something else.

Deeper, darker, sick.

It’s anything but normal, and Sam has absolutely no clue how to deal with it. So he drinks like the bottle of tequila could provide him some answers, when in fact it makes everything even blurrier, even more complicated, and the oblivion he came here to achieve is not coming.
He should have known this.

He has always told his brother that drinking doesn’t solve any problems and now he feels like a total hypocrite, even when he managed to prove his point; it really doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s a hypocrite and has been for years now. He pretends to be normal, when deep down inside he’s nothing but. If Dean only knew…

Thankfully he doesn’t. As far as Sam knows, his brother hasn’t had a clue, and that is just fine. More than fine, since Sam has absolutely no idea what he would do if Dean ever found out. Even the thought alone is so scary Sam doesn’t even want to think about it.

Sometimes Sam wonders this whole thing from a psychological point of view. He has been reading, has been studying things that have absolutely nothing to do with hunting or the research he usually does. He has been studying himself, doing research of himself to understand this better. Questions are ‘why’, ‘when’ and ‘how’. And he has found some answers, usually browsing the net during the dark hours of night when Dean is asleep, because if Dean saw what he’s reading… Sam has no idea how he could explain that. But the answers are there.
The absence of a parental figure: usually the father. It fits. Dad had always been absent, even when he was right there. Sam lost his mother when he was just six months old, so in fact he hasn’t had any parental figure at all. His brother practically raised him, but Sam has never thought of Dean as some kind of substitute for a father figure. Dean was just a kid too, and all they had were each other. Talk about dysfunctional families…
But it explains the almost unnatural bond they share with each other, but Sam knows that from his side the bond has grown too strong. It’s not healthy anymore. Sam would die for his brother, but that’s not what makes it unhealthy, because Dean would do the same for him. Has done already.

Sam is either not co-depended of his brother, no. That would be just too easy. Oh no, the reason that makes Sam’s bond to Dean unhealthy is something so much worse.

Sam brings the shot glass to his lips and only then realizes it’s empty. He orders another one and lets the liquid fire burn away his inner sins, his unhealthy thoughts, everything. The bar is smoke-dim and smells like old wood, booze and leather, and Sam curses under his breath because Dean too smells like leather. And gun oil and something unqualified that is simply Dean. Sam doesn’t need another reminder of Dean; he came here to forget about him.

So instead of his brother Sam thinks about Jess, sweet Jess. Jess, who made him feel almost normal during those few precious years. Sam is thankful for that, but at the same time he feels guilty as hell. If he would have been honest about who he truly was, Jess could still be alive. He doesn’t mean being honest about hunting, the way he was raised like a warrior, about the life he swore to leave behind. If he would have been honest about Dean and the real reason why he left his family and ran to California, Jess would never had wanted him, they wouldn’t have started dating. They wouldn’t have rented apartment together, and Jess would not have died. It was all because of Sam. Jess died because Sam lied to her, even when technically he didn’t, but leaving things unsaid, things she had a right to know was just as same as if Sam would have lied straight in to her face. The secrets he kept killed one of the most important person in his life, and nothing, absolutely nothing Sam does or doesn’t do can ever make that up. If he could go back in time he would do things differently He would be honest, to himself and to Jess. Jess deserved so much more than Sam could ever give her.
“You miss him.” Jess once said and Sam looked at her like he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Your brother.” She continued, but Sam just laughed and said something about burnt bridges before quickly changing the subject. Jess left it at that, but Sam noticed how she sometimes looked at him, like she knew, even when she possibly couldn’t.

The truth is so absurd and grotesque that probably no one would even want to think about it, or try to guess what goes on inside Sam’s head. Not to even mention that the whole concept is so wrong, so forbidden, a taboo—Even if someone knew, they probably would keep quiet about it. Some things are not to talk about out loud. Sam’s sin is one of them.

*

It’s three in the morning when Sam stumbles back to the motel room – their motel room, and Dean is still awake, watching some old black and white horror movie. The volume is low and in the dim light of the TV-screen the room looks weird, colorless, like they are in their own little horror film. And it’s true, at least for Sam. He is a monster, and Dean has no idea that he’s the prey.

Sam wants to ask him things, many things, like how can’t Dean see what this does to them? The close proximity, the intimacy, being so fucking close to each other day after day, night after night?? It doesn’t seem to bother Dean. It most likely wouldn’t bother Sam either if he were normal.

Normal.

How does one define normal anyway? By the norms? Norms are set by the society, by the majority of people. How many of them can call themselves normal? Sam knows that he and his brother have never fit into that description, the way they have been raised and the way that they live. And what about animal instincts, so suppressed in the world today. Wolves mate for life. Or was it swans…?

Sam knows he’s drunk. He knows that his thoughts don’t make any sense at this point, and he knows he should just shut up and go to sleep.

“How can ya live like this?” He slurs at Dean who looks up at him, puzzled.

“What do you mean?” He asks, but Sam has already started his next question: “Doesn’t this bother you?”

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

“This!” Sam spreads his arms to point around the room like it would explain everything, and even when he knows that his brother can’t understand what he means it still angers him that Dean doesn’t.

“Dude, you’re drunk.” Dean points out rather unnecessarily. “Go to bed. Sleep it off.”

“I killed Jess…” Sam says quietly, sitting down on his bed. “I killed her…”

“Sam…” Dean’s voice is patient and comforting and Sam hates it. “You gotta stop blaming yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

“You’re wrong.” Sam sneers and smiles a little but it’s more like a grimace. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. I should have told her.”

“About hunting?” Dean raises a brow. “About what’s really out there? Man, she wouldn’t have believed you anyway. Or maybe she would’ve, but that wouldn’t have changed anything. Yellow eyes was after you. You know that, Sam.”

“You don’t understand…” Sam mutters and Dean huffs, which is quite uncharacteristic for him. “Then why don’t you explain it to me.”

Sam covers his face with his palms, and the gesture suggests despair and exhaustion. Finally he looks back at Dean, no matter how hard it is; how hard it is to see Dean. His bother. His mentor. His everything.

“It had nothing to do with hunting”, Sam finally says, “I just… I should’ve told her who I really was. Who I really am.”

Dean sighs. “Dude, you’re not making any sense.”

“I know.” Tiredly. “ You could never understand.”

“Why won’t you just tell me!?” Dean’s patience is running out. “Just tell me for Christ’s sake!”

Sam opens his mouth and closes it again. His eyes look moist, but Dean can’t be sure if Sam is on the edge of tears or if it’s just the alcohol. Sam’s eyes seem to glow every time he drinks, and that doesn’t happen very often. Tonight he has drank a lot more than usually, and that alone sets alarm bells ringing inside Dean’s head. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just waits for Sam to continue.

“I’m sick.” Sam finally says, voice full of self loathing and Dean is starting to feel uneasy. “Dean, I’m fucking sick.”

Dean clears his throat. “What do you mean?” His voice is small and choked, like he really doesn’t want to know but still has to ask. “Like… physically?”

Sam laughs, hard and harsh, and although it doesn’t happen very often, right now Dean finds his brother’s behavior so unlike Sam that it makes him worried.

“No, Dean.” Sam says Dean’s name like it’s a curse. “Not physically. Mentally. I’m a goddamn freak!”

“You’re not a freak.” Dean tries but Sam interrupts him: “You can’t say that. You have no idea!”

“Then tell me.”

And suddenly Sam looks vulnerable, like he could break down any second, and it’s amazing how a guy who’s over six feet tall can all the sudden look so small.

“I can’t.” Sam’s voice sounds like he is in pain. And he is. All these feelings, emotions and contradictions are skinning him alive and he’s scared, because one of these days when this thing has stripped the flesh off his bones, Dean will see what’s really inside, and then Dean will hate him.

Sam’s vision is swimming in and out of focus and he falls back first to bed. Some part of his drunken brain acknowledges that talking will not solve this, especially when Sam can’t talk. Not honestly anyway, because that would lead to a disaster, and then Dean would loath him and Sam just couldn’t handle that. He needs Dean. His brother, his mentor, his everything.

*

Sam can’t concentrate and it backfires at him. On their next hunt he nearly gets himself killed because he’s out of focus, out of balance. When they get back to the motel, Dean yells at him. Sam doesn’t really mind, it’s what Dean does when something scares the crap out of him.
After that Dean tries to talk to him, asks what’s wrong, but Sam doesn’t answer him. Not honestly anyway. Sam may not understand it, but Dean is trying to get through to him because his greatest fear is losing Sam. Sam doesn’t talk because if he really told what’s bothering him, Dean would think he’s sick, and Sam’s greatest fear is losing Dean.

They are running around in circles. Day after day, night after night.

*

Sam starts having dreams. About the past, and after a while he’s not sure if they really are dreams or memories or just a product of his imagination.

After a while the dreams, or whatever they are, turn into memories; memories when Dad was still alive and Sam hadn’t left to college. He remembers how awkward it felt to sleep in the same bed with Dean because he was sixteen and Dean was twenty and they were way too old to share a bed. It didn’t happen often, but that time the motel had been full, they were all exhausted and needed a place to crash for the night. So Dad had taken the only room available, and there were only two beds. John took the other one, Dean and Sam shared the other.

Sam was laying on his side and Dean’s presence was so strong. Dean was just inches away, and Sam knew that if he moved just a bit, his back would connect with Dean’s chest. At that time he didn’t really know why he did it, but he moved, closed those few inches between them and pressed his body against his brother’s.

Dean pretended to be a sleep even when Sam knew he wasn’t, but Sam acted like he didn’t know that and pretended to be asleep as well. Sam kept his eyes closed even when Dean pressed himself closer to Sam, tight against him, and Sam could feel that Dean was hard. Then Dean started moving against him; small, shallow moves, his hips against Sam’s ass, and still they both pretended to be asleep. After a while Sam felt Dean’s body going rigid, heard a soft gasp, and then sticky warmth spread between them. Dean brushed his lips against Sam’s neck and whispered: “It’s okay…” so quietly it was hardly audible.

They never talked about it. Now Sam doesn’t know what to think of it. What did it mean, or did it mean anything at all? He doesn’t know and he’s scared to ask. So he doesn’t. But it doesn’t stop the old memories reaching the surface of Sam’s mind.

Like that one time when Dad was in Michigan and they had no idea when he would be coming back. Dean wanted to spar, so they did. Dean had more muscle mass and was still slightly taller than Sam. Sam put on a hell of a fight, but it didn’t take long before he found himself lying on his back on the floor, Dean on top of him, and suddenly everything was just… silent. Dean kept looking at him, and Sam looked back. Then Dean bent down, just a little bit. Their lips didn’t even touch, but Sam felt his brother’s hot breath against his mouth as Dean whispered just one word. Sammy.

After that Dean was like paralyzed for few seconds before he got up faster than Sam had ever seen, rushed into the bathroom, slammed the door shut behind him and locked it.

Sam was confused.

Yeah. Maybe those were the moments when their brotherly bond turned into something entirely different, at least for Sam.

*

Sam is consumed by his memories. Or are they still just dreams or fantasies? It doesn’t matter, because no matter what they are, Sam is still out of focus, maybe more than ever. During their next hunt a vicious spirit almost guts Sam but he dodges at the last second and the spirit’s claws only tear his shoulder open. Back at the motel Dean doesn’t say anything, just digs a first aid kit from his duffel, and takes out a needle, string and disinfections. And it’s million times worse than if Dean would just yell at him, just get it out of his system, because yelling Sam can take. It’s these icy silences that make him want to die.

“Take your shirt of.” Dean says quietly. “Let’s see how bad it is.”

Sam doesn’t move a muscle. His shirt is soaked with blood, but he still doesn’t want Dean to see him like that. Vulnerable. Naked. Weak.

“Come on, we don’t have all night.” Dean says but doesn’t sound irritated. Sam sighs and starts removing his shirt, grimacing when the partially dried blood makes the fabric stick into the wound. Finally he manages to take the shirt of, and Dean sits down next to him on the bed.

Dean is too close.

“I’d say this will hurt”, Dean smiles a little, “but you already know that.”

Sam watches as his brother sets the needle and the string before disinfecting the wound with something that feels like liquid fire and makes Sam’s eyes water though he doesn’t make a sound.

“It’s not that bad.” Dean looks at the wound. “Six, seven stitches and that’s it.”

Everything changes when Dean takes a hold of Sam’s bicep, and Sam shudders.

“What is it?” Dean asks, worried.

“Don’t touch me.” Sam says with a small voice. “Just please don’t touch me now.”

Dean looks worried. “Sam. What’s wrong?”

Sam wants to laugh. What’s wrong?? Aside the fact that the small skin on skin touch they had shared made Sam feel like his whole body was on fire? Nothing… Absolutely nothing.

“I can stitch myself.” Sam says with as calm voice as he can manage. “Gimme those.”

Dean gives him the needle and the other supplies, and Sam starts working, stitching himself without any local anesthesia, not even the whiskey Dean tries to offer him. He needs this pain, needs it to take his mind off other things. Off Dean who doesn’t go anywhere, just sits on the bed next to Sam, watching him. Blood is floating down Sam’s arm; it colors his skin dark red and some of it even drops down on his jeans. Twenty minutes after pain-indulged oblivion he’s done, tightens the last stitch and closes his eyes.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?” Dean asks quietly. Sam doesn’t open his eyes, just sits there.

“You remember.” Dean simply says. “What I did to you… when we were just…” He can’t complete the sentence.

“I remember.” Sam whispers, eyes still closed.

“I’m sorry, Sammy.”

Sam opens his eyes. “You should be.”

“I…” Dean stutters. “It was like I couldn’t control myself. I hurt you. And I’m so sorry, you gotta believe me.” Dean’s eyes are desperate.

“You didn’t hurt me.” Sam says with a blank voice. “Not then. After, yes.”

“What do you mean?” Dean is confused.

Sam smiles bitterly. “After showing me what it could be like… you just took it all away.”

Dean looks like someone have just hit him. “Sam. I made a promise to Mom. I made a promise to Dad. Always take care of you, to protect you, even if it means that I have to protect you from myself.”

“Whatever.” Sam says and gets up, walks to the bathroom to wash the blood off of him and locks the door behind him.

*

When Sam comes back from the bathroom, all fresh and clean, few Tylenols numbing the pain, he finds Dean waiting for him by the doorframe.

“Shut up.” Dean simply says and pushes Sam gently against the wall, careful with the stitches. Then his lips are on Sam’s, touching, tasting, testing. Sam squeezes his eyes shut; this can’t be real. This is just another one of his fantasies and it will end any second now. But it doesn’t end, instead Sam feels the tip of Dean’s tongue gently pressing against his lips, and Sam is too weak to resist; he opens his mouth and lets Dean in. Dean tastes exactly like Sam has imagined; dreamed. His tongue is exploring Sam’s mouth, then nipping his lips before licking them, and then his tongue is inside of Sam’s mouth again and Sam is lost, he’s lost in his brother and the mouth that devours his own.

After a while Dean pulls apart. “Open your eyes, Sammy.”

Sam is scared; afraid that the spell might break and he would be here alone, in his bed, and all this would be just a dream. But when he opens his eyes, Dean is looking at his hazel ones, smiling a little. Then he turns serious and Sam feels a slight worry inside of him.

“If we’re gonna do this”, Dean starts, “ I wanna take it slow. Okay, Sammy?”

Sam can only nod.

“Good.” Dean smiles again. “Why don’t we continue from where we left when you were sixteen?” Dean grins. “The bed is big enough for the both of us. Wanna climb in? Or how 'bout a little sparring match?" Dean's eyes look mischievous and Sam licks his teeth and takes a defensive pose.

"Bring it on, shorty. I'm ready".

-FIN-.

Fic: Always Been Mine (Sam/Dean, R)

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 12:47:06 GMT

Author: Jade
Genre: Slash, first time, drama and fluff in the end.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Wordcount: About 1,200
Warnings: Incest (oh, what a surprise!)
Disclaimer: Just playing around.
Summary: 'I have made so many mistakes in my life. Some of them I can never take back. There are things I would do anything to change. I’m not perfect, and I’ll never be, but if you’ll take me I’ll give you all that I am.'
A/N: I was bored and NEEDED to write. Not my best work, I know.

Dean is well aware that this life, the life he’s leading isn’t normal. By that he doesn’t mean only hunting, the awareness what’s really out in there in the dark and sometimes even in broad daylight. Which is even worse, because darkness is familiar; in the dark it’s easier to stay invisible, but in the light he doesn’t have the benefit of staying out of sight. But that’s not the point.

It’s not the fact that he hasn’t really had a home since their house burned down when Dean was just four years old. It’s not the fact that his father raised him like a soldier, or that Dean made his first sawed off at the age when most of the kids were still playing with toy soldiers. Dean knows that the war is real, and there are no toy soldiers, only real ones, and then the casualties of that ongoing war are very real too.

It’s not even the fact that Dad was always away and Dean practically raised his younger brother when he was just a kid himself too. Sometimes Dean feels like he has never actually been a kid, not really. He gave up his childhood for his little brother. It didn’t take much hesitation.

Dean can’t deny that raising his baby brother got on his nerves more than once, but he never complained, not once, even if he sometimes was a little harder to Sam than his brother deserved. Aside from Sam being a gloomy, introverted kid he was relatively easy, and sometimes Dean regrets all those hard words he said to Sam, but they were just kids back then, and they were both lost, though Dean never let it show. He had to be strong, for Sammy. Sam was more important than anything else.

And when Dean thinks about the things he’s never had; a home, a family (a real one), a childhood, he realizes that there’s one thing he’s always had.

Sam.

And that, right there, brings him back to the place where his thoughts started, the awareness that his life isn’t normal.

Sam is all grown up now; he’s not the sad, broody, agonized kid he used to be anymore. He’s not the awkward, lanky boy who was all legs and arms with no idea of what to do with them. Oh no.

Sam is a man now.

Sam’s body has filled with long, lean muscles, strength and agility. His legs are still mile long, but nowadays he moves with such cat-like grace that it sometimes makes Dean wonder if his little brother is even the same person anymore. And just when Dean thinks he doesn’t know Sam anymore, something happens and Sam is sad, broody and agonized again, and definitely the brother Dean knows and has always known.

He is ashamed to admit it, but in a way he’s glad when Sam hurts, because the one thing that hasn’t changed over the years is that if feeling bad, Sam still seeks comfort from his big brother when the world kicks him in the face, and during those moments Dean feels important, feels like a big brother again.

It feels so good to know that Sam still needs him.
Just like Dean has always needed Sam.

But then the need changes, mutates, or maybe it has always been there like that but they just haven’t realized it. Sam has this look in his eyes, the look that says that his heart is bleeding, and Dean is too weak to resist. When Sam climbs into his bed, Dean doesn’t find it in himself to say no. He knows it’s wrong, something they should never do, but he’s weak, and he needs Sam.

Sam is his weakness, the one who fills him with love and hate, and during those forbidden moments in the dark Dean wonders which feeling is stronger. He doesn’t hate Sam, he never could. He hates himself, not because he gives in to Sam’s wordless pleas, but because deep inside he knows that he needs this at least as much as Sam does. He needs to hold his brother close, so close that there is no end nor beginning, only one soul inside two bodies, and Dean knows that somehow they have always been one. This is just the final step.

When they join, it feels like there’s only one body too. Dean is lost; he can’t even tell where he ends and Sam begins. They are one. Dean thrusts inside Sam, slowly, looking into Sam’s eyes that seem to glow in the dark. The uncontrollable need takes over, and they move, touch, bite and claw until there’s nothing left but a writhing mess of sweaty skin and tangled limbs, Dean’s groans and Sam’s quiet whimpers, silent pleas, and Dean reads Sam like an open book, gives him everything his baby brother doesn’t even dare to ask. He gives Sam everything, all he has to give, until Sam is just a trembling mess, incoherent and weak.

Dean realizes he loves this feeling; having Sam under him, weak, spent and helpless.

The self-loathing comes later.

Few hours later Dean watches Sam sleep, watches his beautiful face, so peaceful, so young. He sighs, finds a piece of paper and starts to write a letter, a letter to Sam. He has no intentions of ever giving it to him, but writing down the words is enough, and he needs to write this down. Maybe to clear his mind, maybe to confess. Maybe both. So he writes.

‘I have made so many mistakes in my life. Some of them I can never take back. There are things I would do anything to change. I’m not perfect, and I’ll never be, but if you’ll take me I’ll give you all that I am. With you I don’t regret anything, and what we just did… I won’t deny it from you if you want it again. Know why? Because you need it, I can see in your eyes. The thing that scares me is that I need it as well, maybe even more than you do. And it’s selfish and pathetic, but Sammy, you’ve always been mine. And I’ve always been yours. You should know. I was yours the moment I carried you out of our burning house so many years ago. That was also the moment you became mine, and I’m not letting you go, not unless you ask me to, and I pray to God that day never comes. You are mine, Sammy, and that is one thing I never want to change. –D’

Dean has never been good with writing letters. He doesn’t know how to be eloquent, but when he writes, he writes straight from his heart, and this, what he just wrote, is what he feels. He loves Sam, more as a brother, more as a lover. This love is something that there are no words for.

He hides the letter in his duffel under his clothes and crawls back to bed with Sam who mutters something in his sleep and shifts restlessly. “Hush, baby…” Dean whispers. “I’m here. Everything’s fine.” Sam calms down instantly. Dean wraps his arms around his baby brother, buries his nose in the soft curls on Sam’s neck and closes his eyes.

The self-loathing is gone the moment his baby brother turns around and wraps his sleepy form around Dean, clings to him like he would drown if Dean weren’t there to hold on to him, and right that moment Dean really can’t think of a place in the world he would rather be.

Fic: Kidnapped (Sam/Dean, NC-17)

Fri, 13 Feb 2009 09:13:20 GMT

Author: Jade
Genre: Slash, drama, suspense and a twisted twist. My first porn with actual plot.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: A little over 8,000
Warnings: Flashbacks of underage sex (Sam is 15).
Disclaimer: Marry me, Kripke, and give 'em to me.
Summary: Sam has no idea of where he is. He has no idea where Dean is, or what has happened to them. Slowly, inside his underground prison Sam starts losing his sanity.
A/N: This was something that just kept screaming in my head: "Write me, write me!" So I did.

He had no idea of where he was. It was dark, he could tell that even with his eyes closed. The air was humid and cold, and an earthly smell filled his nostrils with each inhale he took; dirt, stale water, rotting plants.

Was he underground?

He tried to focus, tried to force his confused mind to work, but there was nothing but darkness, inside and outside. And a question:

How did I get here?

And then another: Where is here?

His feet were bare, socks and shoes removed. His jacket was gone; so were his shirt and even his belt. A small, bitter smile crept on his lips. If he really wanted to kill himself, he could hang himself with his jeans. It wouldn’t be the most glorious death, but then again, he wasn’t going to die.

Third question; just who had brought him here? Someone had. He could not have ended here by himself, wherever ‘here’ was.

Kidnapped. Locked down underground. Somehow he just knew that he was behind locks. Why else would he be here? Laying on his stomach, partly on his flank, half naked, here.

Then, through the blackness of his rebelling mind a memory reached the surface. It filled him with warm joy, and then with cold terror.

His brother.

If he was here, where was his brother?

Sam opened his eyes.

*

“Stop, Dean. You’re gonna wear a hole on the floor. Sit down.”

Dean stopped for a second, gave Bobby a glare and continued pacing around the room in circle.

“Dean.”

“No.” Dean stopped again for a moment. “I’m not gonna stop until…” He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms. “I want him back.”

And the restless pacing continued.

“It’s only been two days now.”

“I know!” Dean’s eyes were furious. Worried. Desperate as was his voice. Then, with a softer tone: “I know… It’s just…” He looked at Bobby. “I’m not handling this very well.”

Bobby looked back at him and something in his chest ached as he answered: “I don’t think anyone would expect you to, in a situation like… this.”

*

“Hello?”

Christ, was that his voice? Sam swallowed. His throat was dry and felt a bit sore, like after sleeping for too long breathing through your mouth.

“Anybody there?”

His voice was rough, small and squeaky. If he had heard it somewhere else, he wouldn’t have realized it was his own.

He opened his mouth again, but a violent burst of coughing made him curl into himself. His ribs hurt. Hell, his whole body hurt.
What had happened?

Where was Dean?

Dean…

Sam sat up as the coughs subsided. He reached around, felt the walls and finally found a small switch. The room lit up, and even when it was just one lonely light bulb, Sam groaned and covered his eyes. He sat there, eyes closed, a hand over them until the lightning inside his skull eased a little. Then he looked around.

It was a cellar. Except that there was a toilet seat. The room was maybe twenty feet times twenty; it had concrete walls and a dirt floor. Shelves covered one wall, and there was canned food and bottled water.

In conclusion: whoever had dragged him here didn’t want him to die on thirst or starve to death. So why was he here? It didn’t look like he was in some nest of some supernatural freak. This was clearly human made.

Ransom? Who on earth would kidnap him for ransom? Dean was his only living relative, and he had no money. So maybe it was something else Dean had. Amulets? Spells? The Colt? Maybe Ruby’s knife? If that were the case, then at least Dean would be safe. He wouldn’t be in some underground chamber. He wouldn’t be a prisoner. God, let it be so…

But if this wasn’t about ransom, then what was it about? Why would a human, or a bunch of humans kidnap someone and keep him alive in some cellar underground?

All the answers Sam’s mind provided made him feel really uneasy. He remembered the Bender family; waking up in a cage with absolutely no clue of what had happened until the horrifying truth was revealed.

Dean had saved him, just like he would save him this time. Sam had to believe in it. If he started to think about how his brother could be in the next room, wondering about these same things…

It would drive him insane.

His whole body ached, and now that there was light he took a look at himself, saw dark bruises mottling his flank and stomach, and by the feel of it there were also bruises on his back. And his shoulder hurt where it met his neck, stung, like there was a wound but he couldn’t be sure because there were no mirrors in the small room.

Imprisoned. Helpless.

Why was this happening?

*

“Eat.”

“No.” Dean’s voice was stubborn. Sometimes Bobby wondered where that stubbornness came from. Was it from the kid’s mother or his father? They had both been strong-minded persons.

“You have to eat.”

“Not hungry”, was Dean’s blunt answer.

Bobby sighed. “You’re not helping Sam like this.”

The angry look was the only answer he got. And Bobby knew it would be futile to try and make Dean change his mind. Bobby knew Dean so well. The kid wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to, no matter how much he was pushed, and Bobby also knew that pushing would only make Dean more stubborn and make him close into himself.

The only person that got through to Dean in situations like this was his brother. But Sam was gone, and Bobby understood Dean’s desperation, his pain. He understood, because he felt despair and pain too. So he let Dean be.

*

Was it a day? Or night? If only there was a window, even a tiniest one… Something to show him the passing of time…

There was air though. Sam could hear the AC purring quietly and a small clicking sound when it turned on and off.

Food, water and air. A perfect prison with the basic needs of a human body fulfilled. The toilet was a luxury, the only one he had.

*

“Sleep, Dean.”

Dean’s face didn’t show any signs of any feelings, but his eyes were dark and exhausted.

“I can’t, Bobby. You know I can’t.” Dean was lying on the couch, eyes staring up to the ceiling, face expressionless. Bobby knew that Dean was trying to block everything out: his thoughts, emotions, fear.

“I can’t sleep before I get Sammy back.”

Yeah. Bobby knew.

*

Sam drank some water. It tasted fresh, so whoever was supplying this prison had filled the shelves quite recently. He really didn’t know whether to be grateful or worried.

Possibly both.

*

“I have to help Sam.”

“Do you even have a clue of where to start?” Bobby asked. “’Cause I don’t.”

“I have to do something!”

“Sam’s a fighter. He’s gonna be fine.”

Bobby honestly didn’t know if he was lying or not, but seeing the look on Dean’s face, the one that prayed for reassurance, kept him from saying his suspicions out loud. The kid needed hope, and right now that was the only thing Bobby could give him. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t real, or if they both knew deep down inside that no amount of promises could make things right.

But Bobby just couldn’t say it. He didn’t even want to think about it.
That maybe this time Sam wouldn’t make it out alive.

*

Sam had never realized how the lack of light and a complete unawareness of time could affect a person. He didn’t want a window anymore; all he wanted was a clock on the wall or a watch on his wrist, something to show him the passing of hours. He counted seconds, then minutes, realized he couldn’t do that for long and gave up.

He got hungry; he ate. The cans were the kind that had a metal loop on top of them and they opened when the loop was pulled. So no can opener.

He got thirsty; he drank. All the bottles were plastic. Sam could only shake his head. This really was a suicide-proof cell.

Then he got tired and lay down on the uncomfortable bunk again. There was a thin pillow and an old wool blanket, impossible to tear to shreds with bare hands. Maybe that was another attempt to keep him from hanging himself.

Sam slept, and his dreams were restless.

*

“Time to wake up.”

“Dean opened his eyes. “Sammy?”

Bobby shook his head and Dean closed his eyes, resigned. It hurt, to see that flicker of hope in Dean’s eyes and how fast it died before Dean closed the world out again.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I really am.”

The saddest thing was that saying he was sorry didn’t fix anything, in this situation it didn’t even mean anything. Bobby could see that nothing would matter to Dean before he got Sam back.

It was too hard to think about the fact that it might never happen. They both knew it, but neither of them said anything about it. As long as they didn’t say it out loud, there was hope. Admitting it would be like giving up, and that was something neither of them wanted to do.

Sam had to be okay. They would get him back.
Maybe it was just wishful thinking, denying how bad the situation was, but it was their only comfort, and Bobby knew that Dean needed that comfort, now more than ever.

*

Sam counted the steps from other side of the room to another. Then he sighed and counted again.

How much time had passed? Was Dean looking for him? Was anyone? And why weren’t those people who had taken him here showing any sign of themselves? They had to want something, right? If nothing else then at least to see how helpless he was. They had to have some reason for this, most likely a bizarre and twisted one, but a reason still, so where the hell were they?

The shout was filled with anger and frustration as Sam slammed his fist against the concrete wall. The shout was replaced with a sob as he knelt down and leaned against the wall, fingers caressing the bleeding knuckles of his other hand.

*

“Sam!!” Dean woke up to his own scream, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to banish the dream from his mind. The dream where Sam was hurt and alone, and there was nothing Dean could do to help him.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Bobby’s voice was calming. “It was just a nightmare.”

Dean took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “I want him back.” His eyes were shaded and moist. “I want him back, Bobby.”

Bobby nodded; ‘I know’.

“I want my brother back…” Dean sobbed, and Bobby’s throat felt tight when he asked the next question: “He’s not just your brother, is he?”

Dean was silent for a long time before answering, pure and simple; “No.”

*

Sam remembered his first time with Dean like it had happened yesterday. Dean was nineteen, all pale golden skin and long, lean muscles, and Sam was crazy about him.

Dean moved like a cat; gracefully, looking like a hunter he was, not like a prey, and yet Dean had no idea that his little brother had set his eyes on him and was now hunting him.

It was one night when Dad was away; chasing a rawhead somewhere down in New Mexico, and Sam lay awake, waiting for his brother to return from where ever he was.

Dean was drunk and smelled like cigarette smoke and cheap perfume.

“Sam, wha—“ was the only thing Dean got out of his mouth before Sam was all over him, pushing him down to the bed and kissing him with all the awkwardness and enthusiasm only a teenager was capable of.

“Shut up.” Sam growled and kissed him again.

*

“How long?” Bobby asked and Dean didn’t need to ask him what he meant, instead he wished that the ground would open and swallow him. It was a simple question, but the answer filled Dean with heartache and guilt, pain and self-loathing.

“Sam was fifteen.” Dean finally answered and then looked like he was in pain. “Christ, he was only fifteen years old…”

Dean buried his face in his hands and Bobby looked down, closed his eyes and tried to handle this new information. To be honest, he wasn’t ready for it, so he forced the confession out of his mind.

He’d think of it later.

*

Sam remembered. He was maybe only fifteen years old, but he knew very well what he wanted.

“Stop it, Sam!” Dean spat out and tried to push Sam away, but Sam could feel how half-hearted that push really was. And maybe, if it hadn’t been so dark or if Dean hadn’t been that drunk he would have realized that though Sam was all tall and skinny and looked like a kid for Christ’s sake, there was nothing kid-like in his eyes, and there sure was nothing innocent in the way Sam shed his pajamas and climbed on Dean’s lap.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was a warning. “Enough.”

Sam smiled and wrapped his thighs around Dean’s waist. “Not nearly enough.”

“Sam…”

*

Bobby closed his eyes and sighed. “So you, and Sam… Since you were that young?” The thought was more than a little disturbing. It would take some time to process this.

Dean couldn’t look Bobby in the eyes. But then again, he had nothing left to lose, so maybe he could just as well be honest. And he had already confessed his darkest secret, so no; he really didn’t have anything to lose.

“Yes.” He said quietly, still not meeting Bobby’s eyes.

*

“Listen.” A fifteen-year-old Sam said with a stern voice and forced Dean to look at him. “Do you want my first time to be with you, or with some cheap girl from the street?”

“Some cheap girl from the street, no contest.” Dean retorted. Sam didn’t give up.

“How ‘bout some guy from the street?”

He knew he had won the battle when Dean tensed, just about stopped breathing, and for a moment there was only thick darkness and tight tension filling the room.

Then: “Fuck you Sam.”

Sam smiled wickedly. “Don’t mind if you do.”

“No.” Dean growled and dug his fingers in the tender flesh of Sam’s hips, making him yelp. “No, Sam.”

“I want to…” Sam whimpered, pressed his body against Dean’s, grinding his hips against the rough denim of his brother’s jeans. “Please…”

“You have no idea, no fucking idea at all what you’re getting yourself into.” Dean’s voice was heated, but there was something underneath that tone that made warmth pool into Sam’s belly and lower, or maybe it was simply Dean’s voice.

“Please, Dean…” Sam was young and horny and he had watched his brother for so long, wanted him for so long that these days even looking at Dean made him so hard he had to find some private corner and jack off.

“Sam…” Dean said with a low voice. “If we do this… It’s not gonna be like you think. It’s not gonna be flowers and butterflies. It’ll be rough, and I’ll hurt you.” Then, after a small pause: “The first time always hurts, Sammy.”

And there it came, that nickname. Sammy. Sam smiled.

Dean had lost the fight.

*

“How do you feel about it?”

Dean was losing his temper. “What are you now, a goddamn shrink?? How do you think I feel?” Then he calmed down a bit. “Guilty. I took something from Sam and I can never give it back. He was just a kid… A kid, Bobby, and I’m…” Dean lowered his head for a moment before looking up again, this time straight into Bobby’s eyes. “I’m still not sorry. I love him, Bobby. And that’s why I need to get him back.”

Dean was quiet for a long time.

“That’s why I need to get him back. ‘Cause I never told him. I never told him I love him.”

*

Sam lay in his uncomfortable bunk. At least the memories helped a bit, provided a momentary oblivion from the situation he was in. So he closed his eyes and let the memories take over him again.

Dean was frustrated; Sam could see that as he straddled his brother’s hips, still wearing that same smile on his face.

“Yeah…” Dean sneered. “Smile now because you won’t be smiling for much longer. I’ll hurt you, Sammy.”

But Sam didn’t care. Dean’s fingers dug even deeper into Sam’s hips, and then his thighs. Sam whimpered, but there was no way he would back off now.

“I warned you.” Dean said with a voice that Sam didn’t quite recognize. “I will hurt you, I promise.”

But Sam was too far-gone: “So do it. Hurt me. I don’t care.”

It happened so fast. Suddenly Sam was on his stomach, face against a pillow. He heard Dean stripping off his clothes, and then the hot skin of his brother’s covered his, hands searching and mapping every inch of Sam’s body.

Sam flinched a little when Dean sat on his thighs, spread his ass cheeks apart and spat on his hole. And then Dean pushed a finger inside of Sam, and Sam yelped.

“Want me to stop?” Dean asked.

“Hell no…” Sam choked out, and suddenly there were two spit-slick fingers pushing inside of him. It burned, hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. After all this was what Sam had wanted for so long.

“Okay then.” Dean said and pushed in a third finger.

*

Bobby saw the expression on Dean’s face and knew that even if he asked, the boy wouldn’t speak anymore. So he let him be, went to the kitchen and started preparing things for dinner.

Sam had been gone for a week now, and Bobby knew that neither he nor Dean had any appetite, but they still needed to eat, to sleep, and to go on. Lying down and giving up wouldn’t do any good, not for them, not for Sam.

He didn’t really know what to think of this new revelation. The boys had always been close, closer than Bobby had ever seen any brothers being, but still… lovers? Sure it was a shock, and just as sure it was wrong in so many levels that Bobby didn’t want to think about it, but there was one thing he believed.

Dean really loved Sam. More than just as a brother. Maybe even more than as a lover…

And that only made the situation so much worse.

*

“Had enough, Sammy?” Dean whispered, fingers deep inside of Sam. Sam was trembling, his brother’s fingers probing him in a way he had never experienced before. It was hard to breath, he felt wide open and vulnerable, and still somehow so protected. No matter how harsh Dean’s tone was, Sam knew that his brother would stop if he just asked him to.

“More”, Sam choked out and the fingers inside him stilled.

“Sammy…”

“Just do it!”

Dean’s fingers stayed still for a moment longer until he suddenly spread them, stretching Sam even wider. Sam gasped and a small whimper escaped his mouth.

“Gotta make sure you’re ready…” Dean muttered, kept scissoring his fingers a little longer and then pulled them out, leaving Sam feel somehow empty. “Okay, Sam…” Dean’s weight left his thighs and Sam heard him fumbling in the dark, heard a cap of something opening and then Dean was back on top of him, and Sam breathed out hard when he felt Dean’s cock, slicked with some kind of lubricant, pressing against his ass. Dean grabbed Sam’s hair, forced him to turn his head a little, bit his earlobe and then whispered: “Bite the pillow ‘cause this is gonna hurt.”

Dean’s hand spread his thighs and Sam’s heart hammered in his chest, arousal mixing with fear. He’d had fantasies of this, but this was real, and it was happening now.

“Sammy…” Dean whispered and Sam felt the huge, blunt head of Dean’s cock pressing against his hole, the pressure building until the head thrust in and Sam lost his breath. He lay still like he was paralyzed, muscles trembling, body rigid.

“Relax, Sam. It’ll only hurt more if you don’t relax.”

“I can’t…” Sam whimpered. Dean was right; it did hurt. It hurt so bad Sam wasn’t sure he could take it.

“Told you I‘d hurt you”, Dean said quietly, keeping himself still as just the head of his cock remained inside Sam. “Keep still, I’m pulling out now.”

“No.” Sam grunted, reached behind him and forced Dean to stay where he was. He reached his other hand behind too and pressed his hands against Dean’s ass, pressing down with all the force he could manage from that position as his ass lift up to meet Dean’s hips. Dean slid in all the way and Sam cried out and his scream mixed with Dean’s surprised and shocked grunt: “Sam!”

Sam couldn’t speak. His body was shaking under Dean’s, and he felt so full, so incredibly full. Filled by Dean. The thought filled him with sense of victory; finally. A tear fell down his eye and soaked into the pillow, a small sob escaping his throat.

“Oh my God…” Dean whispered and froze completely. “God, Sam, please don’t cry, please, Sammy, baby, I’m gonna stop this now, I don’t want to hurt you—“

“Please…” Sam whispered with shaking voice, “Please don’t stop. Need you, want you…”

“God, Sammy…” Dean’s lips brushed his ear, hot breath ghosting over his skin. “What am I gonna do with you?”

A small laugh forced its way out of Sam’s chest. “I think you’re already doing it.”

“Smartass”, Dean murmured and shifted a little, moved them both so that Sam lay on his flank and Dean was spooning him from behind still buried deep inside of him. “You know how fucking twisted this is?”

“Don’t care”, Sam whined, “I don’t fucking care.”

“It’s not nice to swear, Sammy”, Dean said quietly and Sam was about to give him a snarky answer when Dean moved and Sam gasped.

“It’s okay…” Dean mumbled and rolled his hips, just a little. “You’re okay…” He wrapped his arm around Sam’s torso while the other hand moved down on Sam’s belly and lower, and Sam closed his eyes and bit his lower lip –please, yes, touch me there, pleasepleaseplease- finding soft curls of pubic hair and Sam’s half hard dick. Sam gasped and threw his head against Dean’s shoulder.

“Like that?” Dean asked softly, pumping Sam’s dick slowly, matching the movements of his hand with the movements of his hips, pulling out just half an inch before gently pushing back in, writhing against Sam instead of just letting go and fucking into him, and God knew he wanted to.

“Mmh…” Sam whimpered and then moaned as Dean tugged his dick a little harder, pulling out a little more before sliding back inside, and it still felt like someone was stuffing a damn Eiffel tower up his ass but Dean’s hand was down there and it was tugging and pulling and—“Fuck…”

“All the time, Sammy, all the time.”

“Harder.”

“Greedy.”

“Fuck you.”

*

The moon was full and the night calm. Dean sat on Bobby’s porch, staring to the dark and trying not to feel so guilty: guilty for tainting Sam, guilty for not protecting him hard enough, guilty for failing in everything. Breaking his promises to Mom, to Dad, to Sam.

They were all gone now.

Dean was alone.

God he wanted Sam back…

“Want one?” Bobby’s voice asked and Dean slowly turned his head, seeing Bobby holding a pack of cigarettes.

“I didn’t know you smoke.”

Bobby shrugged. “I don’t, not anymore. But I keep a pack around, just so I know that I have it if I want one. Keeps the temptation away.”

“Would definitely not work for me…” Dean muttered, took a cigarette and lit it with his lighter, the one he kept for himself and hadn’t thrown into some grave because some idiotic thought had made him think of it as his ‘lucky lighter’.

And there was also that other reason… he had got it from Sam.

“I didn’t know you smoke”, Bobby shot back when dean exhaled a cloud of white smoke out of his lungs.

“Yeah”, Dean shrugged. “Me neither.”

*

Sam was sure he was going insane. After reliving his first night with Dean in his mind –Dean had made him come first before coming himself- he had relived every possible place, time and situation where they had ended up naked together between the sheets- or on the ground or on the backseat of the Impala …and once against an abandoned truck at Bobby’s backyard when Bobby was away getting some supplies- and all he wanted was to make a new memory because it meant that he would see Dean again. But as the time passed, Sam’s flicker of hope slowly started to die.

It had been days, over a week at least, and he had seen no one, heard nothing but his own voice as he yelled someone to come and show his or her face or let him out.

There was still food and water, the toilet was working and though the air was chilly it wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t the physical needs that would kill him. It was the silence, the unawareness, the absolute lack of knowledge of what had happened to him, or worse, what had happened to Dean.

He had a feeling that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

That feeling got even stronger as Sam started remembering, just brief flashes at first. They had been hunting. It had been a dark, cold night, clouds covering the moon and the stars, silent. He had followed Dean, a flashlight in his other hand, gun in the other. There had been an impact, a hard push from behind. Dean’s terrified face as he had turned around. Pain. Then—

Nothing.

That was insane. They had been hunting a ghost. Ghosts didn’t kidnap people! And even if they did, they wouldn’t leave food and water and just leave. Would they? Sam rubbed his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble that also reminded him that he had been here for a long time.

Here, here, here…

Where the fuck was HERE?! What the fuck was he doing in here?? Where was Dean, God, where was he!? Sam jumped up from the mattress he had been sitting on and screamed, yelled as loud as he could, smashed his fists against the wall and shouted and screamed every single curse word that existed and even a few that didn’t.

Something was so terribly wrong.

He didn’t notice it at first. Then he started feeling a little lightheaded, slightly nauseous. He shivered as chills crept up his spine. The air felt too thin is his lungs. He couldn’t breath. Maybe he was having a panic attack.

Then he smelled it.

The smell was so subtle he hadn’t noticed it at first, but now he recognized it. He wasn’t having a panic attack, he realized. A bitter smile crept on his lips as he looked at the AC, purring so softly and blowing more air-eating gas into the room. He was going to die here, in this godforsaken cellar, never even knowing who had brought him here or why.

It was bittersweet.

Sam sat down, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He memorized the first time he and Dean had made love. Before that it had been fucking, always hard and rough, in the dark, from behind, always in small self-denial. But then one morning, after Dean had fucked his lights out the night before, Sam woke up and Dean was looking into his eyes, just watching him like he was some kind of wonder.

And then Dean bent down and kissed him.

It was their first kiss, the first real kiss. Before that it had been biting, licking and tongue fucking, but this was different. Smooth, slow and deep. It set a different kind of need boiling in Sam’s blood and made him weak. When Dean pulled away and Sam opened his eyes again, Dean’s skin looked like gold in the soft morning light, his eyes like deep dwells, and Sam realized how beautiful his brother was and his heart ached.

Dean didn’t say anything, just kept looking into Sam’s eyes, shifted on top of him and kissed him again. Sam was whimpering and writhing under him, hands searching for more and more of skin, mouth opening wider to welcome Dean in. Dean pushed his leg between Sam’s thighs to spread them and Sam lost his breath as Dean settled between them and gently pushed his cock inside him. Sam was still slick and loose from the night before, and Dean slid in all the way, easily like they were designed for this, and Sam cried his need into Dean’s mouth. When the kiss ended, Dean kept watching him the whole time they moved together, deep and slow, in and out and back inside again. Sam’s hips bucked, seeking for more force and friction, but Dean kept him still, tamed him like he was a wild and skittish animal, and Sam gave in and fell apart.

His eyes were wide and glassy as he looked back into his brother’s eyes. His body was weak and willing, to move and bend in every way Dean wanted him, and when Dean grabbed Sam’s thigh and pushed it up at the same time as his cock pushed impossibly deep inside of Sam, Sam’s back arched like a bow and he screamed. Dean bent down to swallow Sam’s cries into his mouth and slowly rocked them both over the edge.

Sam had cried out his brother’s name when he came. Now he whispered it quietly, again and again, like tasting and testing and memorizing it before the room got dim, Sam’s eyelashes fluttered close and his world drowned into darkness.

*

Movement.

Voices. Far, far away…

Calling his name.

Dean…

Sam opened his eyes and knew he was dead, because there was Dean, sitting beside his bed that wasn’t the old mattress he had almost got used to, but instead soft and warm. Gone was the harsh wool blanket, replaced with supple cotton, and there were puffy pillows under his head. Dean’s eyes widened as he realized Sam was awake and he was bending over Sam in an instant, staring in his eyes.

“God, Sammy, thank God you’re okay”, Dean whispered, voice choked and barely audible, tears crowding in his eyes, “I thought I lost you, I really did. Christ, Sammy, I was so scared…”

“What…” Sam had to clear his throat that felt sore and rough. “What happened?”

Dean smiled a little through his tears, wiped his hands across Sam’s cheek and forehead, and the touch was so real that Sam couldn’t help but wonder if dreams were always this real. Everything was blurry and unclear; he was still feeling lightheaded and weak.

“What happened?” He asked again. Dean shook his head.

“Don’t think about it now. You need to rest. I’ll tell you everything after you’ve rested, okay buddy?”

“Mmh…” Sam mumbled trying to keep his eyes open but his lids felt heavy as lead and the world was getting dark again.

“Don’t leave me…” Sam whispered trying to focus his gaze on his brother but his vision was swimming in and out. “I need you…”

“Never gonna leave you again.” Dean’s voice was gentle and full of emotion. “Never again, Sammy.”

*

When Sam woke up the next time, it was dark outside but a lamp on the bedside table spread a soft orange glow in the room, and Dean was still beside him.

“I thought I was dead.” Sam rubbed his eyes. Everything felt more realistic now, and he realized he recognized the room. “We’re at Bobby’s house?”

“Yeah.” Dean smiled. “And we’re staying here until we’re sure you’re okay.” Then, after a small pause: “I missed you so bad.”

“How long was I gone?”

Dean sighed. “Thirteen days.”

“Felt longer than that.” Sam frowned. “What happened? How did I… How did you find me?”

“What do you remember?”

Sam stared at the ceiling, thinking. “The hunt. Then something hit me from behind. Pain. That’s about it. The next thing I remember was waking up in a cellar.” He looked at Dean. “How did I end up there? And why?”

Dean looked away for a moment before looking back at Sam. “I don’t know, Sam. I only had time to see you getting attacked by something before I got knocked unconscious myself. Sloppy, I know, and I’m sorry I failed to protect you.” Dean looked down. “I’ll never forgive myself that.”

“Dean…” Sam reached his hand out and twined his fingers with Dean’s, making Dean look at him again. “It’s not your fault. Remember Benders? That wasn’t your fault either. And you saved me then and you saved me now.” Then he got puzzled. “How did you find me?”

“With luck, I guess.”

“There was gas… I was sure I was gonna die.”

“I got you in time. Don’t think about it now.”

“But why?” Sam couldn’t get those questions out of his head. Something didn’t match. “If we both got attacked, then why me? Why did they take me and left you there?”

Dean sighed. “I don’t know, Sam. Please, just let it go for now. I want you to get better and for that you need to rest.”

“I wanna make a new memory.”

Dean looked stunned. “What?”

Sam grinned. “When I had nothing else to do I went through in my head all the times we… you know. And I was thinking that if I ever get out of there alive, I wanna make a new memory.”

Dean laughed a little. “We’ll have plenty of time to make as many memories as you want. But for now I want you to rest. Are you in pain? Need anything?”

Sam looked Dean in the eyes and his gaze was filled with open honesty. “I need you.”

Dean bent down and kissed Sam gently. “You got me.”

“Then come here. I miss sleeping with you beside me.”

“Sure thing.” Dean smiled and lay down next to Sam, wrapping his arms around his little brother and holding him close. Sam felt instantly calmer.

“Sam?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I love you.”

Sam looked a little surprised, confused even. Though he knew deep down inside how Dean felt, his brother had never said those words out loud. He was stunned, just for a moment. Then he kissed Dean, feeling more grateful than ever of being alive. “I love you too. I think I always have.”

“Sleep now.”

Sam nuzzled Dean’s neck and closed his eyes.

*

“Good to see you up and running, kiddo.” Bobby said as Sam came out to the kitchen next morning. “Were worried sick about you…”

Sam felt so much better after taking a shower, shaving and brushing his teeth. “Yeah. I was a little worried of myself too. But I was even more worried about Dean.” Then Sam smiled. “He’s fine, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Sam’s smile died. “And after I get back in shape I’m gonna find those bastards who took me and I’ll make them pay.”

“Maybe you should just let it go, Sam.” Bobby said quietly.

Sam laughed bitterly. “Why? Do you have any idea what I had to go through? How freaking scared I was? I had absolutely no clue of where I was or where Dean was and the fear was driving me insane. I’d say I deserve a payback.”

Bobby turned around with a steaming mug of coffee and gave it to Sam who took it gratefully, closed his eyes and inhaled the steam. God, he hadn’t even smelled coffee for two weeks. The first sip was like heaven.

“Look, Sam.” Bobby said quietly. “It was a close call. You almost died. Your brother was a mess while you were gone. So don’t go and try to get yourself killed just as he got you back.”

Sam frowned. This wasn’t Bobby’s usual talk.

“I know ‘bout the two of you.” Bobby finally said, not looking at Sam. “Dean told me. After I asked him. I guess… I guess I knew even before he admitted it.”

Sam’s eyes widened. He had absolutely no idea of what to say. Bobby knew? Jesus.

“Don’t worry, kiddo.” Bobby said easily. “I don’t think I’m fit to judge anyone. And you two are still like family to me so stop looking like a deer caught in the headlights.”

Sam still didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded and left the kitchen, still holding the coffee mug in his hands.

“Sam.”

Sam turned around.

“When we talked…” Bobby started. “There was something your brother wanted to say to you. Something he’d never said before.” A pause. “So, did he?”

Sam smiled a little, remembering Dean’s words. ‘I love you.’

“Yeah. He told me.”

“Good.”

*

Dean was still sleeping when Sam went back in to the room they shared. It was the same room where they had slept when they had been kids and Dad had left them at Bobby’s care when he was hunting something so dangerous he felt it was too big of a risk to bring the boys with him.

Dean looked peaceful in the soft morning light, the sheet covering him from the waist down but his upper body was bare and glowing like gold in the light that filtered through the curtains. Sam finished his coffee, set the empty mug down to the table and shed his t-shirt and sweats before climbing back to bed with his brother.

“Sammy…” Dean murmured sleepily and Sam kissed him. Dean smiled. “You taste like coffee… Brought any for me?”

“Nope.” Sam said and straddled Dean’s hips. “Brought you something better.”

Dean grinned. “And what would that be?”

Sam smiled and removed the sheet that separated them, grabbed Dean’s cock that was hard, thanks to morning wood, and simply guided it inside of him. Dean gasped and his eyes flew open. “Fuck, Sam!”

“Yeah, Dean. That’s the idea.”

He had prepared himself in the shower, which had made his coffee run a bit awkward but now as Dean was inside him it had so been worth it.

“Christ Sam, Bobby’s home!” Dean hissed and Sam shrugged, smiling teasingly.

“I guess we just have to be real quiet then.”

“You are so evil…” Dean muttered but his hands settled on Sam’s hips and proceeded to lift his little brother up, just a bit before letting him slide back down. Dean groaned and threw his head back. “Fuck you feel good…”

“Mmmhh…” was all that Sam got out of his mouth as he lifted himself up further and grinded down again, all the way so that he could feel Dean’s pubic hair against his ass.

“Come here.” Dean panted. “If were gonna be quiet I’ll have to swallow your moans.”

“Nngh…” was Sam’s response. Dean grabbed his neck and forced him down, bringing their lips together and sealing them. And it really was a good idea, since now that Dean planted his feet against the mattress for more leverage and started sliding in and out of Sam with more force and speed, if their mouths weren’t joined so tightly, Sam would have screamed when Dean hit his prostate and grinded against it, pressing Sam’s ass down with his hands and driving Sam insane.

The slow morning fuck turned into mayhem of desperate hips, grabby hands, clawing and sweating and swearing into each other’s mouths as they mated like animals, wild and rough and free. Dean flipped them around and grabbed Sam’s ass, fucked into him with such force that the bed was creaking, and Sam started trembling uncontrollably under him before Dean felt his little brother’s teeth sinking into his shoulder as Sam came so hard his back arched and he almost made them fall out of bed.

“I love you”, Dean panted, pounding into Sam like in peril, “Fuck I love you…” And then Dean went still, body going rigid before his hips spasmed once, twice, and then he was pouring inside of Sam, long, hot and wet. Sam’s mouth swallowed his cries until he collapsed on top of his baby brother and just lay there, panting, forehead against Sam’s shoulder.

“I love you too.” Sam whispered after a long time.

Dean smiled and placed a tender kiss against Sam’s neck.

*

Sam recovered quickly, physically at least. He didn’t want to talk about his two weeks spent underground and Dean didn’t push him. In a way Dean was relieved because talking about it would remind him that it had really happened, but at the same time he knew that his little brother had to talk about it eventually. Sam was the kind of person who would turn into a time bomb that would explode without a decent warning if he kept things bottled up inside. They would talk, eventually. But not today.

Sam was quiet. He ate, slept and sought physical comfort from Dean, which was awesome because it meant hot and sweaty sex whenever Bobby was out of hearing range, but to be honest Dean was a little worried about Sam. The not talking part was nothing new, Sam had his silent periods once in a while, but there was something… different. Like sex. Sam had always been greedy little bastard when it came to sex with Dean, but now he devoured physical contact like his life depended on it. Dean couldn’t really explain it, but it was like Sam’s priorities had changed rapidly. No matter how greedy for satisfying his physical needs, Sam had always satisfied his emotional needs first. Now he filled his craving for sex but didn’t even want to analyze it after. Either Sam’s testosterone levels were suddenly normal or something was really wrong.

When not all over his brother, Sam spent a lot of time just walking around the house, pacing restlessly in a way that reminded Dean of a caged leopard he had seen in a zoo that one rare time Dad had decided to take them there. There was also something restless in Sam’s eyes, and sometimes when Sam was deep inside his thoughts and Dean pulled him out of them, he swore he saw fear in Sam’s eyes. Fear and frustration and something else he couldn’t put his finger on.

Even now Sam looked like a skittish animal, and Dean had no idea of what to do. He swallowed thickly, looked at his little brother who was staring out of the window like freedom was right there but just out of reach, and his heart ached. Sam reminded him of the leopard. He wondered if the big cat had ever again had a chance to run free, or if it had died in captivity. Deep down he knew the answer but didn’t want to think about it.

*

The house was too small. It was suffocating him, so Sam went out to the porch, closed his eyes and inhaled deep. The fresh air filled his lungs and it was suddenly easier to breathe. He had feared this moment; leaving the safety of Bobby’s house, but now, outside, he felt better. A gust of wind smelled crispy and carried a promise of the winter to come. No earthly smell of stale water and rotting plants, just fresh air, freedom.

His bruises had healed, and even when his bones jutted out a little sharper than before, he knew he was physically okay. He also knew that his captivity could have been so much worse, and sometimes the possibilities of what could have happened to him down in that basement made him sick. Still the questions remained. Who had taken him? To where, and why? Dean still didn’t have any clear answers, not that Sam asked often, but when he did, it was almost like Dean was circling the subject and changed it the first chance he got.

Sam sighed deep and took the first step down the stairs that led from the porch to the yard. The sky above his head looked huge and blue, and Sam’s heart hammered in his chest, like he was suddenly suffering of some kind of reversed claustrophobia. Some little voice in his head told him to turn around, get back inside the house and stay there because it was safe, and Sam almost obeyed it until he realized it was crazy and forced himself to take another step, and then another.

His legs carried him to some far corner of Bobby’s yard. He thought he recognized the place, but he was still sure he hadn’t been there for a long time.

And suddenly the feeling that something was terribly wrong returned.

He remembered. He remembered playing with Dean here when they had been just kids. The place had changed, decayed. The grass that had once been green was now sickly yellow and dying. Rotting. There were puddles of old rainwater on the ground, nothing but mud anymore really.

An earthly smell; rotting plants, stale water…

And Sam remembered when they had played hide and seek with Dean, years and years ago, and how Dean had found a perfect place to hide. So perfect that Sam hadn’t found him and had finally given up.

And then he remembered something else, something much more recent.

“I can explain, Sam.” Came a voice behind him, and Sam couldn’t turn and face his brother, not now. Not now when he knew.

It didn’t mean he would ever understand.

*

“Sam…” Dean brushed his suddenly sweaty palms to his jeans and tried to get rid of the suffocating feeling in his throat. He had seen Sam walking to this direction, and he had rushed after him, but he knew it was already too late.

“Why?” Sam’s voice didn’t hold any emotions. It was cold, like strangers.

“You got attacked.” Dean said quietly. “We were hunting that ghost, and I… I had no idea, no one had… until I saw you getting attacked…”

“By a ghost?”

“By a werewolf.” Dean swallowed. “You got attacked by a werewolf. I had no idea it was there, but it was, and it bit you. It bit you Sammy.” Even after almost three weeks and now knowing that Sam was okay, the memories were still fresh and raw. The absolute helplessness as he had watched the thing take a bite of his brother before Dean had shot it and rushed to Sam who was unconscious, laying on the ground, looking like he was dead.
“I was so scared.” Dean continued, voice thick and pained. “I thought I’d lost you. But you were alive. And then… God. It wasn’t full moon, the thing hadn’t turned, but it bit you, Sam. It’s like a virus. I didn’t know if you were infected. I didn’t know anything. I carried you back to the car and drove here. Bobby had heard some old wives tale, about monkshood, a plant, and how it purifies the blood. We made a solution and gave you a shot. But we still couldn’t be sure, I couldn’t be sure, and I had to be, I needed to be sure.”

“You could have told me.” Still no feelings.

“Would you have listened?” Dean asked, laughing bitterly. “You would’ve just told me to shoot you. I would have refused, and you would’ve done it yourself.”

“You locked me in the basement.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean felt broken, his heart was shattering in two. “I had no choice. I had no time to think of anything else! And I had to do something! I had to be sure! God, Sammy, if you would’ve turned…”

“And the gas?”

Dean hung his head. “Had to get you unconscious. You were never supposed to find out. About any of this.”

There was a long silence that felt so uncomfortable Dean had to shift his weight from one leg to another. Finally Sam spoke.

“All the time… The whole time I was down there, you knew exactly where I was.” A joyless laugh, but at least it suggested some kind of emotion, even if it was bitterness. “I was worried sick about you, and you… God, Dean.” Sam shook his head and Dean wanted to see his face, but at the same time he was so damn scared of the moment Sam would look at him because he didn’t know what he would see in those eyes.

“I had to, Sam.” Dean said quietly. “I did it because I love you.”

“I know.” Sam’s voice was suddenly softer and it almost made Dean flinch. “I guess I would’ve done the same.”

“What?” Dean was stunned. Sam was not mad?

“Well, I guess love can make you do crazy things. Things you didn’t think you could do. Maybe even change a person.”

Dean frowned. What was Sam talking about? “Look, Sam. I’m sorry, I really am, for what you had to go through down there. But I’m not sorry for fighting for you, for keeping you alive, maybe against your will if you knew the truth, but Sam… Sammy…” Dean smiled a little. “Full moon was five days ago. You’re still you. You didn’t turn.”

Sam chuckled in a way that made something uncomfortable coil in Dean’s belly. And then his little brother turned around, faced him.

Looked at him with his golden eyes.

Eyes of a wolf.

“Not all the way.” Sam whispered, a wicked smile on his lips and shrugged. “Anyway.”

-Fin-

Fic: And You Have All Of Me (Sam/Dean, NC-17)

Sat, 11 Oct 2008 10:11:47 GMT

Title: And You Have All Of Me
Author: Jade
Genre: Slash, drama (and porn... but it's sweet, I promise)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Concentrates on the reunion on 0401, so spoilers for that. Flashbacks of underage sex.
Disclaimer: Marry me, Kripke, and give 'em to me.
Summary: It was despair and hope and joy and every other thing Sam couldn't even name, but that is how Dean has always been to him. With Dean words don't mean a thing, because Dean just is. Always has been. With Dean it has always been an ocean of emotions, and they both have drowned a long time ago.
A/N: My muse is back, her name is persephone_c and she's adorable! This is for cyndrarae who wanted bottom!Sam and NC-17, and gave me otherwise free hands. Hope you enjoy. :)

Sam lays awake in bed, eyes wide open, even when he cannot see a thing. He doesn’t need to see to know that Dean is there, right there beside him, his weight warm and familiar, and still somehow different. Four months in Hell are bound to change a man, Sam knows it, and even when the joy of having his brother back is overwhelming, there is still an underlying feeling of loss, and Sam isn’t sure if things will ever be the way they used to be... before. He can still feel his brother, inside him, taking over his body and mind and soul. He closes his eyes.

Dean's hands, strong, so much stronger than the last time, his body, harder, all muscle and bone and skin... Hipbone, Sam can feel it every time Dean thrusts inside him from behind, driving hard and deep and fast and Sam moans like a ten dollar whore, he can't help it. He's bent in half, his hands behind his back as his brother holds his wrist there, fucks into him and Sam screams...

Sam doesn’t think he has ever gone through such an emotional rollercoaster as he did when there was a knock on the motel room door and Dean standing behind it, along with Bobby. It was just too much, so he attacked, already having been on the edge for months, and then, suddenly Dean’s there, and that was not possible. And even when he kept fighting, it only took one touch and he knew. And it killed something inside of him, walls came crashing down, every single barrier he had built during those months alone. All it took was a one single touch and Sam was stripped down, raw and vulnerable.

Dean’s eyes, so full of emotions, and the only thing Sam can do is stare back, stare into those green-gold eyes, and he wants to drown in them, drown and never rise to the surface again... As long as Dean is there, he doesn’t need air, doesn’t need light, doesn’t need warmth, because to him... Dean is everything.

There were tears in Bobby’s eyes, but Sam didn’t even see them. All he saw was Dean, and all the time he waited to wake up, alone in his bed, alone in the world. And then Dean pulled him close, and Sam almost collapsed into his brother’s arms. It was despair and hope and joy and every other thing Sam couldn’t even name, but that is how Dean has always been to him. With Dean words don’t mean a thing, because Dean just is. Always has been. With Dean it has always been an ocean of emotions, and they both have drowned a long time ago.

Dean says they can’t do this, but Sam is seventeen and needy and stubborn, and when their verbal argument turns in to a physical wrestling match, Sam knows he has Dean, has him right then and there. Dean pins him down on to the floor, and Sam raises his wrists above his head, surrenders, bares his throat like a submissive animal and just keeps staring at his brother. Dean curses under his breath before he grounds his hips against Sam’s, and Sam gasps. It is the moment that condemns them both, but neither one of them isn’t praying for absolution. Not then, and not during the following years, during the stolen moments in the dark where there is just the two of them, and the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

Bobby left, and so did Ruby, but Sam hardly even noticed it. A part of him is almost sure that Bobby knows, and Ruby knows for certain. It doesn’t matter, because as soon as the door closed behind those two, Sam was all over his brother, the need so strong it was scorching him inside, and when Dean’s mouth crashed against his, it was like finding salvation, like coming home after a long and useless journey. For the next moments it was all lips and tongues and teeth, mouths fighting for dominance, and Sam let his brother take control, like he had done since the first time their young bodies found each other in the dark, Dad sleeping in the next room.

It’s clumsy and sloppy, but they don’t care. The want is too burning, and they have to hurry. Dad doesn’t sleep very heavily. And that means they also have to be very quiet, but it’s so hard when all Sam wants to do is moan and whimper, and when his big brother finally pushes inside him, he has to cover Sam’s mouth to prevent Sam from screaming. It’s quick and rushed, but oh so good, and Sam doesn’t even care that it hurts. It’s what he has wanted for so long. It’s over way too soon, but the next time Dean takes the car and drives them to some abandoned road, and there, in the backseat, he fucks Sam until Sam is sore and sweaty and panting and boneless. Sam is in heaven.

The want was so strong that Sam wanted to cry. He wanted to tear their clothes off, but at the same time he didn’t want to move, finally having his brother against him after all that agonizing loneliness. He could feel every inch of Dean, pressed against his own body, his big brother’s mouth on his own like they were joined there. Just teeth and tongue and clumsy legs as Dean backed them towards the bed. Sam’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell backwards, pulling Dean down with him. And suddenly all there was just tenderness. So much love that Sam couldn’t breath.

Dean helped them to undress, and then he was right there, on top of Sam and Sam had to close his eyes for a while to stop the tears breaking free. Dean leaned down, latched onto Sam's neck and sucked at the soft skin, and Sam bit down on Dean's ear gently before taking Dean's face between his hands and looking deep into his eyes. "I need to see you..." Sam whispered. "I need to know it's you. Need it to be you..."

Sam started moving under his brother, touching him everywhere. His hands slid down Dean's back, until his palms were flat against Dean's ass, pulling him closer, and a choked sound escaped Sam's throat. Reluctantly Sam moved his other hand and grabbed the bottle of lube from the bedside table drawer. It hadn’t been used for four months, but it was something Sam had kept. It reminded him of Dean. He coated his fingers with the slick gel and started slicking Dean up. At his brother's questioning look Sam smiled a little.

"You don't need to prep me every single time... Just... Just go slow, okay?"

It had been four months, and Sam hadn’t been with anyone. He knew he would be tight, but he simply couldn’t wait another moment.
He reached between them, lifted his hips and positioned Dean on his tight entrance.

"Easy... easy..." Sam whispered when the blunt head of Dean's cock started slowly push inside him. Sam let out a sigh and a small muffled moan when the head slipped in. It didn't hurt, there was lots of lube and they went slow. But soon the stimulation was too much and Sam placed his hands again against Dean's ass, pulling him inside to the root, all the while keeping his eyes open. He was panting now, Dean filling him completely.

"Just..." Sam breathed. "Just a second..."

Dean looked back at his eyes, gave him time to adjust. After a moment Sam started moving under his brother, pulling him along to the rhythm, slow and deep at first, but increasing the pace all the time. Sam had never realized how hard it actually was to keep his eyes open when Dean stimulated every nerve inside him, and when Dean's cock brushed against his prostate, Sam cried out loud but still didn't look away.

"Dean, I need..." Sam panted, almost whined. "I need... Now." He grabbed his brother tighter and for a moment it was just too much. Sam's cock was sliding against Dean's abdomen, and he was close, so close...

"Come with me..." Sam whispered and wrapped his legs around Dean's waist, allowing his brother an access to go even deeper. And then it was just too much and Sam couldn't take it anymore, the pressure and friction and everything was just too much. "Come with me... Dean, I need to... Now. Now!" Sam cried as the pleasure took over him and he came between their sweat-slick bodies, feeling how Dean's hot seed filled him inside, so deep, so good, and even during his orgasm Sam didn't close his eyes.

He had never felt such intimacy with anyone, coming undone while looking into his lover's eyes. All the emotions visible, and he wanted Dean to have that, to see Sam on his most vulnerable moment, and when the aftershocks finally subsided, Sam couldn't help it, he started to cry. This was something he had never experienced before.

"Oh God..." Sam sobbed and Dean looked worried. "No, no, don't get me wrong... I'm just... because it felt so good... God..."

Sam lifted his face just enough that he reached to kiss Dean.

"I love you..." He whispered against his brother's lips and wrapped his arms around Dean. Held him close until they finally found the strength to get up and go to the shower where Dean fucked him, hard and fast, holding Sam’s wrists behind his back, taking him, owning him, filling him up to his soul, and for the first time in a very long time Sam felt complete.

And here Sam lays awake in bed, eyes wide open, even when he cannot see a thing. But he doesn’t need to see to know that Dean is there, right there beside him, his weight warm and familiar, and still somehow different. And then Sam realizes that the feeling of loss isn’t really loss. It’s just fear. After all, four months in Hell are bound to change a man, yet Dean looks and sounds and feels and tastes the same. Sam knows that the battle isn’t over, that at some point Dean will have to face his demons, face the horrors he went through in Hell, but suddenly Sam isn’t scared anymore. Whatever will come along the way, Sam will be there for his brother, standing beside him every step of the way, because one thing is for sure. Sam will never, ever let his brother go again. If Sam thought that there wouldn’t be any feeling stronger than love... Well, now he knows better, because love doesn’t come even close to what he feels for his brother.

You Are My Sickness (Sam/Dean, NC-17)

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 08:28:07 GMT

Title: You Are My Sickness
Author: Jade
Genre: Slash, drama, angst
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Kind of dub-con
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: They both know it's sick but they just cant help it.
A/N: Once again a really short ficlet, I'm trying to find my muse.

You Are My Sickness

The tension is so thick in the room that it's almost hard to breathe. Ever since Sam found out about the deal the tension has been there, like a third person following them around where ever they go. And the guilt... It won't leave Sam alone. It won't give him a moment of rest, and why should it? After all it's all Sam's fault.

Dean has a year to live. One year, and Sam brought that upon his brother. Sam wishes he died in some place where Dean couldn't find him.

When Dean patches him up, Sam can feel every brush of Dean's fingers against his skin. It sends sparkles through his whole body, and he knows, just knows how this is going to end. The tension is too thick, the air hot and humid, and when Dean looks at him... Sam just knows.

He also knows that what's about to happen is wrong, but when his brother's mouth crashes against his own, he doesn't care. He feels heat and lust, shame underneath it all. Guilt, desperation and so many other feelings he doesn't even have names for them... All he knows that the year has just began, and that he needs this, needs more than anything...

The kiss is violent and Sam can taste blood in his mouth. It's just the way he wants it. Hard, raw and punishing. He doesn't say anything, doesn't ask any questions, just tears his shirt off, then his jeans and boxers until he's naked as the day he was born.

He lays down on the bed, on his stomach, face buried into a pillow.

He keeps his face buried in to the pillow when Dean climbs on top of him. He doesn't make a sound when Dean pushes inside him, hard and painful, just bites down on the pillowcase and keeps his eyes closed tightly. His eyes water behind the closed eyelids as Dean drives fast and deep, tearing up Sam's body and his soul, but this is how it has to be. The pain. The punishment.

Dean's fingers are hard and unforgiving as they dig on Sam's flesh, leaving bruises and making the small capillaries burst just beneath his skin. It hurts, the violent thrusts into his body, merciless fingers violating the tender skin of his hips, but Sam still doesn't make a sound. He breaths hard in to the suffocating pillow but keeps completely still while Dean keeps ravaging his body.

Sam can feel the warm wetness inside of him, and he knows Dean hasn't come yet. It's blood, but Sam doesn't care. If Dean asked, Sam would let his brother bleed him dry. The blood eases the way, slicks him up inside, allowing Dean to thrust even faster, even harder. Deeper and deeper until Dean loses the rhythm, his hips stuttering, and his brother's scorching seed fills him up, burning his insides, and still Sam doesn't move, doesn't lift his face from the pillow.

But he can't help the small gasp that escapes his lips when Dean's hand finds his hardness and starts jerking, Brutally, demandingly, and there ain't a thing Sam wouldn't give his brother, and he comes with a shudder and a muffled cry. He swallows thickly. Dean is still inside of him and Sam wants him to stay like that forever, though he would never say that out loud.

Words don't mean a thing.

Sam falls asleep, his body aching and sore, and for some reason the thing that just happened between them makes Sam find some kind of peace of mind. He sleeps, and for the first time in a very long time he doesn't dream of fire and pain and death.

Forever (Sam/Dean, PG-13)

Tue, 16 Sep 2008 23:42:04 GMT

Title: Forever
Author: Jade
Genre: Slash, drama, romance
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 (I still can't believe it myself either...)
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: The war is over and they both know it's time to stop fighting..
A/N: Another unbeta'd quickie.

It was never supposed to come down to this. Or maybe it was. After literally going through Hell things are usually bound to get better, but in their lives nothing has ever been that simple. The war is over, Lilith and her army destroyed, but they both know it's not just the demon war that's over. They both know it's time to stop fighting.

There are so many things they could do now. Settle down, get married, have kids and live happily ever after. But things are never that easy. They both know it, they don't need to talk about it. After all the years living in the darkness and despair, in a world full of shadows and nightmares, a part of it has left its stain in them, and they know that the darkness will never fade away, and that no amount of tears will ever wash away the pain inside.

They have sacrificed everything, even each other. They both came back, but they are not the same anymore. The shadows in their souls are darker, and the nightmares will never end.

And that leaves them only one option.

The decision wasn't even hard to make. They know that in this world they can never be together, not like they want to be.

They sit on the hill beside the Impala, watching as the sun rises. The last sunrise before it's all over and they can finally be together, not in this world, but in another. Dean didn't believe in afterlife before, but after Hell he realized that there is more than darkness and emptiness beyond death. He doesn't know where they are going, maybe back to Hell, but at least they're going together.

Dean watches Sam as his little brother leans back against the Impala, eyes closed, looking so peaceful, so beautiful. His skin looks golden in the first rays of morning light, and once again Dean wonders what on earth has he done to deserve Sam.

Sam opens his eyes and looks at Dean, eyes hazel-green and calm. He smiles a little, getting up and walking slowly over to Dean. They know it's almost the time. The fight is almost over.

Sam leans close and presses his lips gently against Dean's. The kiss is tender and soft, filled with love and everything that this world doesn't even have words for. Dean closes his eyes and whispers 'I love you' against Sam's lips.

The rising sun paints the sky with shades of light pink, orange and yellow. They only have few moments before the sun rises and the spell is broken. Dean looks at his brother and nods. It is time.

They lay down on the soft grass, face to face, holding each other close. No words are needed, everything they want to say can be read from their eyes as they look at each other.

Dean smiles a little, one single tear falling down his cheek as Sam places his hand over Dean's heart. It's not a tear of sadness or sorrow, it's a tear of joy and relief. Sam kisses the tear away and presses his lips on Dean's once again.

The hand over Dean's heart doesn't move, but Dean knows what will happen next. He's not scared when Sam whispers against his lips.

'Forever.'

It's a promise, one they made to each other so long ago. Sam pulls Dean closer and closes his eyes, concentrates.

Dean doesn't feel it when his heart stops beating, Sam has long ago learned to control his powers, and at the same time as life leaves Dean's body, Sam's heart stops.

It's how he knew it would happen. Dean is his life, his everything, and when Dean's spirit leaves his body, Sam is there right beside him.

The destination is unknown, but it doesn't matter, because there's a promise, sweet promise that will never be broken.

'Forever.'

-fin-

Fic: No Demon Nor Deity (Part II)

Wed, 10 Sep 2008 12:08:21 GMT

Title: No Demon Nor Deity Part II
Author: Jade
Genre: Slash, drama, angst
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: The journey begins.
A/N: Another unbeta'd quickie.

Sam walks along the long corridor that seems to go on forever, deeper and deeper into the ground until it's not connected to the world known to man anymore. He cant see the walls or the ceiling, not even his own feet, because all around him there is only darkness, and the only thing telling him where to go is the light that's shining at the end of the tunnel. He idly wonders if this is what people have described after being on the edge of death, already out of their bodies, merely spirits trying to decide if they should stay or go. Somehow the idea makes him feel amused. It's kind of cruel, true, but then again, Sam isn't the same person he was... well, before. Everything changed when Hell took his brother, his only true anchor, away from him.

"There's light at the end of the tunnel." Dean said once. I told you it was hellfire, Sam thinks. He doesn't know how he knew it, but he did. It wasn't just an outburst of his anger and frustration, and God knew was angry and frustrated. But it hadn't been that. There is something familiar about this place, and Sam is confused for a while, until he remembers that he once died himself too. Like it had happened a thousand years ago... But. Sam's soul hadn't been sentenced to Hell, had it? So why does he feel like he's been here before?

Maybe he had gone to Hell after Jake killed him. Maybe his sin with his brother had sentenced him into eternal damnation long before he had actually died. And if it had, it had all been worth it since it had been because of love. If his soul is corrupted and doomed because of his love for his brother, he is willing to accept it and embrace his destiny with open arms. After all, what he has done to get where he is now he has no delusions of going to Heaven anyway.

The air gets hotter and hotter the deeper Sam gets, and it is so dry it is hard to breathe. He smells sulfur and blood, fear and despair. He sees shining eyes staring at him from the darkness and stares back without even blinking. The Hellhound turns its gaze away first and whimpers. Devil's pet. Pathetic. More like a lapdog.

He feels the eyes of the demons drilling holes to his back, hears them crawling in the dark, but not one of them even tries to get close to him. They are afraid of him, and they have every reason to be. If Sam wants, he can kill them with just concentrating hard enough, bringing their presence close enough to squeeze the anti-life out of them without even lifting a finger. This is what he has become. No regrets. No remorse. And the greatest thing is that he has finally given in to the sleeping powers inside of him, but what the Demon King, Devil, Beelzebub - whatever the thing is - has't considered is that there is one thing that is even stronger than darkness.

Love.

They can try to convert him. Let them try. Let them give their best shot. After all, Sam could kill them all, but that isn't what he is here to do. There are more important things to do than wiping out Beelzebub's army. Who knows, he might even do that. Later. At first he has to find the Big Boss himself and have a little talk with him. And then... who knows.

If things go like Sam hoped they will, he and his brother will leave this hellhole for good. If they don't, there will be blood. More blood and pain and despair Hell has ever seen.

After all, there is nothing more dangerous than a man who has absolutely nothing to lose.

Especially if the said man happens to carry demon blood inside of him and has been rumored to be the antichrist himself.

New RPG-site!

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 10:31:10 GMT

If you're interested in role playing as Sam or Dean Winchester, go take a look. If you like what you see, feel free to join. The forum is only few days old and it would be nice to have some new members. :)

Oh, and it's a wincest rpg-site, just thought I'd let you guys know, lol. And we love NC-17! ;)

Go on, what are you waiting for? LOL.

http://wincestlove.yuku.com/directory

Let's have some fun!

Fic: No Demon Nor Deity (Sam/Dean, R)

Fri, 27 Jun 2008 10:02:06 GMT

Title: No Demon Nor Deity
Author: Jade
Genre: Slash, drama, angst
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer: i own nothing.
Summary: There has never been anything Sam wouldn't do for his brother.
A/N: Another unbeta'd quickie.

Dean stares at him with squinted eyes, and Sam can tell he’s furious. It doesn’t really bother him, it’s actually everything he’s wanted to see the last couple of days. The fury, the anger, any kind of sign that Dean actually has feelings left, and besides, the line between love and hate is so thin that he’s not even scared.

Sam’s been waiting for this. To see his brother like that, because Dean might not realize it, but when he’s angry, he’s also the most honest and vulnerable he’s ever going to be. His stony cover finally cracking, and these are the rare moments he lets Sam in anymore.

Ever since the deal Dean has been distant, and Sam knows why. Dean wants his little brother to let go of him, to forget him, to go on like he wasn’t even there anymore, and that makes Sam angry, because it will never happen. He will never let go of Dean. If he has to, if he can’t find a way out of this… If Dean really is going to Hell, Sam will follow him right behind and drag him out of there.

There is no demon or deity that can keep Sam Winchester away from his brother. They are bound by blood, and so much more. They both know it.

Dean looks like a wild animal, he’s skittish and unpredictable, but when his fists grab Sam from the front of his shirt, Sam is not even surprised. This is how it has to go.

“Sometimes I wish I could hate you…” Dean snarls, his face just an inch apart from Sam’s, and Sam smiles, which only infuriates Dean more. “You think this is funny!?”

“Yeah.” Sam whispers, a challenge in his eyes. “I think you’re pretty hilarious. Or should I say pathetic?”

The result is exactly what Sam knew it would be. Dean pushes him against the wall, so hard that it hurts, and Sam wants to absorb the pain inside him. He wants to keep everything Dean is willing to give him. He wants to give everything to Dean, and he wants to take everything away from him. It’s painful and twisted, but they only have few days left together, and Sam wants it all, all the pain Dean can give him, so that maybe the pain will numb him enough so that he doesn’t have to feel the true agony that’s waiting ahead.

Because Sam knows, that no matter what he does, there’s not enough time.

Dean’s eyes look darker now, more dangerous than ever, and Sam drinks the sight. Dean is so beautiful that Sam’s heart aches.

“I really wanna hate you…” Dean whispers, and Sam can feel his warm breath on his face. He smiles again.

“You can always fuck me like you hate me.” He says, calmly, knowing that he’ll be able to push Dean over the edge, to the place where he doesn’t hold back anymore, doesn’t care if he hurts Sam, and that’s exactly what Sam needs now.

And Dean does it. He practically tears Sam’s clothes off, then his own, and fucks his little brother against the filthy motel room wall, rough and hard, biting Sam’s shoulder to draw blood, makes him scream, and Sam loves every second of it. The pain, the burn, the feeling of being shattered in two… Sam never wants to forget it.

It’s been three days since Dean’s deal came due. Sam stands on the abandoned cemetery at Wyoming.

The Devil’s Gate.

He finally understands what Ruby meant. That the only way to save Dean was to use his powers, even the ones he didn’t even know he had. Now he knows.

He looks up to the sky. It’s such a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Sam feels calm. He knows he’s ready.

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, the hazel is gone, replaced by sulfur yellow.

He raises his hand and concentrates. The gates of Hell open in front of him.

He keeps his hands up, listening to the shrieking demons that try to get out, only they can’t. Sam is stronger than them.

He walks through the gate, snaps his fingers and the gate closes behind him.

It’s hot. The smell of sulfur is so strong that just few days ago it would’ve made him gag. Not anymore.

There has never been anything Sam wouldn’t do for Dean, and now…

Now it’s time to get back what was taken from him.

I’m coming for you, Dean. He smiles. I promised I would.

They are bound by blood, and so much more. And no demon nor deity can separate two people who are bound by love.

When You Touch Me Like That (Sam/Dean, R)

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 19:05:03 GMT

Title: When You Touch Me Like That
Author: Jade
Genre: Slash, drama, romance
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Summary: One touch can tell more that thousand words.
A/N: Wrote this in a hurry, not even using Word, just straight to the box. Unbeta'd, obviously.

Dean likes to touch. Ever since he was a kid, his need for physical touch has been undeniable, no matter how hard he tries to act tough, like nothing could ever break him. But there is something, someone, who can tear Dean to pieces. Sam, his younger brother.

Sam has never been much of a toucher, doesn't show the need for physical closeness, and that is Dean's problem. No matter how many warm embraces he receives, no matter how often he tries to reach sweet oblivion in the arms of a stranger... Nothing takes the craving away, and he only craves for more.

So, Dean starts stealing touches. Brushing his thumb across Sam's fingers when he handles his little brother a cup of coffee or a gun, stands just a little bit too close to him when they're hunting, and most likely Sam doesn't have a clue. Dean has always been protective of his brother, so isn't it totally normal if he wants to be close to Sam?

Well, it really isn't. Because Dean wants more. He wants things he really shouldn't want, and maybe he should feel sick about that, but he doesn't. Sam is his, has been ever since he carried his little brother out of their burning house so many years ago.

And when Sam gets hurt during a hunt, a nasty looking slash on his side, against his ribs, Dean stitches his brother up, his fingers lingering just a little bit too long on the smooth skin and hard muscles after he's done patching Sam up.

Sam looks at him curiously. "I'm not one of them." He simply says, meaning Dean's women.

"No." Dean agrees. "You're not."

How is Dean supposed to say that Sam is so much more, the only thing that ever really mattered to him? Dean is stuck in the situation, and he's afraid that maybe Sam is finally starting to realize what this is all about.

"We need to talk." Sam says quietly, and Dean can only nod, though every cell in his body just wants to run away. He should've known it would come to this, that Sam would find out, because honestly, sometimes Sam is too smart for his own good.

"I think you already know." Sam says with such a calm voice that it's simply not fair. For a moment Dean conciders of playing dumb, telling that he has no idea what his brother is talking about, but that would just be for buying a little more time. Eventually they'd have to face this all, so why not now.

"Yeah..." Dean whispers and refuses to look at Sam. Instead he looks down to his hands, covered with Sam's blood, and without thinking puts one finger in his mouth, tasting the sweet copper, tasting Sam.

"What do you want?" Sam asks, and Dean sighs.

"Nothing you could give me." It hurts, it really hurts. So, this is how it feels to be in love with someone who doesn't share your feelings. It hurts so fucking much. Maybe that's why casual sex has always been a better option, even if it breaks Dean down inside every time he does it.

Sam lowers himself down, searching Dean's eyes.

"How can you be so sure?" His innocent, ignorant little brother asks. "How can you be so sure when you haven't even told me what it is."

Dean sighs and sneers. "Trust me, Sammy, you don't wanna know."

"And what if I do?" Sam just won't let it go, won't he? "Tell me. What do you want?"

Fine... If Sam really needs to know...
Dean shifts closer, for a while just looking at Sam, before he crushes his mouth against his little brother's. He excepts Sam to pull away, horrified, but the small sound of panic comes out of his own throat when Sam kisses him back. But he doesn't have time to think. Sam's mouth is warm and soft, and Dean licks his brother's lips, begging for entrance, and Sam opens his mouth, letting Dean inside.

Dean deepens the kiss, the kiss that wipes away all the nameless, faceless strangers he's been with, and there's only Sam. Only his brother, no one else, and Dean prays that it will stay that way forever.

When they finally pull apart to catch their breaths, Sam is smiling a little. "Took a long time for you to realize." He says and thumbs Dean's lower lip.

Yeah, Dean agrees. Too long.

"I love you." Sam says next and looks down to his hands. "I think I've always had."

Dean feels tears burning behind his eyes as he looks at Sam. His beautiful, pure, innocent little brother. And while Dean was afraid of staining Sam with his own actions, Sam doesn't look any different. He's still beautiful. He's still pure. After all, how could love stain something like that, because love also is beautiful and pure.

"Sleep with me tonight?" Dean asks cautiously, waiting for his brother tell him what a sick freak he is, but Sam just smiles that gentle smile, cups Dean's face with his large hands and kisses him again.

And in that kiss Dean finds the answers to all his questions, even to the ones he didn't ask. Sam knows. They both know. This is the way it should be.

The way it always should've been.

Fic: As We Collide (Jensen/Jared, NC-17)

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 01:49:19 GMT

Title: As We Collide
Author: Jade
Pairings/Characters: Jensen/Jared
Rating: nc-17
Category: slash, rps
Word Count: 2610
Spoilers: none
Summary: “We need to talk.” Jared simply says, enters the room and closes the door. Jensen gives him a look that could kill.
Notes/Warnings: angst all around, angry sex but we all love it, gets kinda fluffy in the end. Oh, and unbeta'd, and english still isn't my first language. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't have wrote this fic. Instead I would be doing some dirty stuff with them and... well, I think you all know what i mean... ;)

Jensen lies awake in bed.
It’s late at night. The moon is almost full, and it fills the room with dim blue light.
The show is on hiatus, and he has a month before he has to go back to Vancouver. He left the scene in a hurry, took the first flight to Los Angeles after the last day of shooting. He just needed to get away as fast as possible.
The strange thing is, that as soon the plane had landed, he knew he couldn’t go to his own apartment. Instead he booked himself a hotelroom. He couldn’t go home, because there was nothing waiting for him, and he just couldn’t face the emptiness and the loneliness, not now. Not in this state of mind. God, how did he end up this way?

It’s all because of Jared. But Jensen doesn’t want to think about Jared now. He doesn’t want to remember, how Jared’s beautiful eyes turned dark and how his perfect body shivered under Jensen’s touch when they made love for the first time.
No. Jensen hides his head under the pillow. He doesn’t want to remember anything about Jared. It just hurts too much right now.

Ok, he admits that he ran. They had their first big fight after becoming lovers, and yes, like a coward he ran and hid himself in this crappy hotel which he has never used before, so that Jared wouldn’t find him even if he tried, but Jensen doubts that he won’t. Why would he? The last time they saw each other, Jared made pretty clear that if it was up to him, he would never want to see Jensen again. So Jensen ran away.

Why is it always so fucking hard? For once he has found someone to love, and not only to love. Jared and he were partners, friends, and it only took about too weeks after they met when Jensen already felt like their souls were bound together. The funny thing is he had never thought that he would fall for someone like Jared. Jensen likes everything to be peaceful and in perfect harmony, and Jared’s just like some goddamn unstoppable force of nature, always spreading chaos around where ever he goes.

Maybe this is right. Maybe they just weren’t meant to be. He should have seen this coming, but he got blinded by Jared; blinded by Jared’s hazel eyes, his smile that was able to light the whole room up, his hungry kisses when he pulled Jensen behind the corner so that no-one could see them. Stolen moments…
Why are you doing this to me, Jared? Jensen sits up and throws the pillow on the other side of the room. I want you out of my head!
But he knows, that even if he could get Jared out of his mind, there is no way he can erase that boy (yes, he still calls him a boy though Jared’s twenty-five) from his heart. This bittersweet torture will follow him through long days and even longer nights. Jensen lies on his back and stares to the ceiling. It’s going to be a long, long night, and there is no way he could sleep. Not while Jared’s face is haunting him. All he can do is try not to cry, ‘cause damn, he would never admit it, but god he misses the boy. He misses Jared so much it physically hurts.

*****

After a sleepless night Jensen gets out of bed and heads to the toilet for his morning routines. The face in the mirror looking back at him is pale and tired.
He doesn’t bother to shave; he gets to do that enough on the set. He doesn’t bother to order breakfast ‘cause he has zero appetite.
He returns to the bed, sits down and takes his cellphone from the nightstand, starting to type a text message:

‘Jared, we need to talk.’

Then he erases the text and starts typing again:

‘Jared, I love you. Please call me.’

He erases that one too, huffs and starts all over again:

‘Jared, I fucking hate you! I hope you get hit by a truck and fucking die!!!’

He doesn’t send that one either but instead throws the phone on the other side of the room, almost hoping that it would break. Stupid phone. Stupid Jared.
He needs to get out. Maybe getting some air will clear his mind.

Jensen gets dressed and leaves the room. After so many months living in cloudy Vancouver the L.A. sun makes him groan, and in his mind he thanks the person who ever invented sunglasses. He starts walking, doesn’t know where but couldn’t care less for his destination; he just needs to get away. He sees people smiling, holding hands, and it makes him feel sick. Jared should be here with him, smiling at him, holding his hand… Jensen isn’t even sure anymore what their fight was about. It started with something small and stupid, and they were both tired and cranky, and then the whole thing just escalated.

After a while Jensen realizes that walking ain’t helping a bit. Jared is still constantly in his mind. So instead he decides to get drunk. To get so fucking shit-faced that he won’t even remember the guy named Jared Padalecki, who has the dimples of doom, mile-long legs, and who was everything that Jensen ever wanted. The guy who broke Jensen’s heart.

It’s still pretty early when Jensen enters the bar. It’s a small-ish place with dim lights, pool table, and lots of booze. Pretty much everything Jensen needs. He walks to the counter, orders a shot of tequila, swallows it down and orders another. The bartender looks at him with genuine sympathy in his eyes.

“Bad day, huh?”

“You have no idea…” Jensen mutters for response and hands his empty shotglass to the bartender who fills it up without asking any further questions. Jensen also orders a beer and heads to the pool table. There’s no-one playing, but he doesn’t mind. Smacking balls around by himself might just be therapeutic. Especially if he imagines they are Jared’s balls he’s hitting. But soon he gets tired and returns to the counter. The bar is almost empty, so he chats about this and that with the bartender, who seems like a nice guy. He actually manages to get Jensen laughing by telling jokes about his wife’s terrible cooking skills. And suddenly he stops smiling.

“Are you expecting company?” he asks Jensen.

“No. Why?”

“There’s a guy in the corner table who’s been staring at you like ten minutes straight.”

Jensen turns around to look at the corner, and his heart skips at least three beats. It’s Jared, looking at him straight into the eyes. Jared’s face doesn’t show any signs of any emotions, he just stares at Jensen. Jensen swallows, and every instinct of his body tells him to get out fast, to get as far away from Jared as possible, but he forces himself to walk over to the the table.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks quietly.

“What are you?” Jared asks back.

“I asked you first. Why are you here? Couldn’t find a fancier bar with chicks hanging around your neck willing to—“

“I was following you.”

“Wha- What??” Jensen can’t believe his ears. “ Following me?!”

“Yeah.” Jared answers calmly.

“Listen,” Jensen says, anger now coloring his voice, “First you tell me you don’t ever want to see me again, and then you follow me around like a goddamn stalker. What the hell is wrong with you?! Is your goal in life nowdays to make me feel miserable??”

“Jen…”

“No, save it. I don’t wanna hear.”

Jensen turns around and rushes out of the bar. He can hear Jared getting up too, leaving after him, so he starts to run. His hotel is only few blocks away, and though Jared has those freakishly long legs, Jensen is a pretty fast runner himselt too.

He almost makes it. He runs the stairs up to the second floor where his room is, and is just closing the door behind him when Jared grabs it and pulls it open.

“We need to talk.” Jared simply says, enters the room and closes the door. Jensen gives him a look that could kill.

“I don’t feel like talking to you.”

“Fine.” Jared says, takes a few steps closer to Jensen, who takes few steps back in return. “Is there something else you would like to do then?”

Jensen curses the sting of arousal Jared’s last words caused in him.

“No.” Jensen states and prays to God his voice isn’t shaking. It is. Again Jared takes a few step closer but this time Jensen doesn’t back off.

“Liar.” Jared whispers. “Jensen Ackles, you are a fucking liar, and you know it. I know exactly what you would want to do.”

Jensen’s voice isn’t much louder than a whisper: “And what is that?”

“Right now you’d like to punch me. Hard.” Jared says and looks away from Jensen. “And I get it. I deserve it. I was an asshole back there, and… god.”

Jared walks a little circle around the room with downcast eyes before stopping and looking at Jensen again.

“Jen… I know your angry, but don’t take it upon yourself. It hurts me to watch you like that.”

Jared spreads his arms.

“I’m the reason you’re feeling that bad. Now I’m here. Stop torturing yourself and give me what I deserve. Hit me, yell at me, do what ever you want. I can take it as long as it makes you feel better.”

“Really?” Jensen’s voice sounds amused, but not in the happy way.
He looks at Jared with narrowed eyes. Then he walks closer to him until they are face to face.

“You’ve better be ready for this…” Jensen growls, and before Jared has time to say anything he’s smashed against the wall with such force it feels like his bones are cracking. Then Jensen’s mouth crashes against his own, violent, all tongue and teeth, not a sign of tenderness. It feels good; the violence, the anger. It’s almost like a revenge.

“I hope that you are not too fond to this shirt…” Jensen breaths as he breaks the kiss. “Oh wait, I don’t care.”

He rips Jared’s shirt open with one strong stroke, buttons flying everywhere. Jared inhales fast. He has never seen Jensen like this; reckless and out of control. It scares him, but at the same time it turns him on so much that he already has a raging hard-on.

“Jen…” he whimpers and receives a slap on his face.

“Who said you can talk?” Jensen asks. “Take your pants off. Now.”

Jared obeys and strips off his jeans.

“Boxers too.”

Jared doesn’t have time to think, so he obeys again and stands in front of Jensen, naked and shivering.

“On your knees.” Jensen commands and opens the flyof his jeans, pulling out his cock that is dark and hard and leaking with precome. “Now, my little whore, you’re gonna wash my dick clean with your tongue, and better make it good or I’ll have to punish you.”

Jared swallows hard and kneels before Jensen, and yes, Jared is scared, but he had promised himself to do anything, anything, to make it up to Jensen, and he’s not backing off now. He licks the tip of Jensen’s cock few times before taking it deeper in his mouth. Jensen sighs as Jared sucks him in, deeper and deeper, tongue workin around his cock like a whirlwind. It feels so fucking good, but he doesn’t want to come yet. Not until he’s buried to the hilt inside of Jared’s tiny, sexy ass. So he pulls his cock out of Jared’s mouth, and Jared looks up at him with an unspoken question in his eyes.

“You’re a good little cocksucker,” Jensen whispers, petting Jared’s hair like he’s a well-behaving dog or something. “Let’s see what else you are good at. On your hands and knees. Do it.”

Jared does as told, and Jensen admires the sight for a moment, until the craving becomes unbearable and he gets naked as well and settles behind Jared. He leans down and bites Jared’s ass so hard that theres gonna be a painful bruise for weeks. Jared winces at the pain but nothing more than a muffled cry comes out of his mouth. But next, as Jensen’s hand smacks against Jared’s ass-cheek on full force, Jared cries out loud. And Jensen keeps spanking him with his open palm until Jared’s ass is red, and sore, and oh so beautiful.

Jensen grabs his cock, spits on his hand few times and spreads the saliva along with the precome on his dick. He digs his fingers on Jared’s hips, spreds him open and pushes in with one fast, aggressive thrust. Jared screams again, and Jensen knows it hurts, being penetrated without proper preparing and decent lubrication. Jared presses his forehead to the floor, and would most likely go completely limb if Jensen wasn’t holding his hips so tight. Jensen thrusts in again, and again and again, and Jared pants and sobs.

“Come on,” Jensen whispers, “I’ve stretched you open so many times that you should be able to handle this…”

“Fuck you, Jen…” comes the muffled answer and Jensen smiles:

“That’s my boy.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“I hate you!”

“I love you.”

And that’s it. Jared bursts into tears, his whole body trembling with the uncontrollable sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” Jared cries, “I’m so sorry…about everything… I’m…”

“Shhh…” Jensen whispers and stops moving, his anger vanished as he sees Jared so vulnerable and beaten. “It’s ok baby. It’s all gonna be ok.”

He starts to pull out, but Jared interrupts him:

“Don’t…”

“Jay, honey… You’re crying. I’m hurting you.”

Jared sniffs.

“Yeah, at first it hurt… but not anymore. Please, Jen…”

Jared’s surrender is so complete, so honest, and Jensen’s heart aches and his voice is not as stable as he would want it to be.

“Turn around then. I need to see your face.”

They change the position. Jensen slowly slides into Jared again, as gently as possible. Jared wraps his legs around Jensen’s waist, and they start moving together. Jensen loves watching Jared’s face as he fucks him. There is still a little sign of discomfort on Jared’s face, but that’s most likely because of the fact that Jensen spanked Jared’s ass raw, and his sensitive skin rubs against the carpet with every thrust. Maybe, just maybe Jared has a little kink for pain, ‘cause he starts to tremble and pant and moan and comes like a volcano all over his stomach. And maybe, just maybe Jensen has a little kink for Jared coming, ‘cause it takes about one point five seconds for him to follow Jared.

When their breathing has calmed down, Jared gives Jensen a lazy but still slightly insecure smile and asks: “I assume we’re not fighting anymore?”

“I never wanna fight with you again…” Jensen mumbles against Jared’s neck. “Though the make-up sex was kinda nice… and spanking you was quite hot too…”

“You kinky bitch,” Jared muters, eyes almost shut.

“Well, maybe…” Jensen smiles. Jared chuckles.

“You so are. But you know, it doesn’t bother me, because you are my kinky bitch.”

“You and your mouth…” Jensen gives Jared a crooked smile. “Why don’t we take a nice, hot shower together, and then find out all possible ways to put that mouth of yours to use?”

Jared smiles, now looking happy in his sweet post-coital state:
“Sounds like a plan.”

Supernatural - Farewell

Mon, 14 Jan 2008 09:39:31 GMT

Vidder: Jade
Characters: Sam&Dean
Lenght: 02:37
Spoilers: none that I can think of.
Music: Adam Skorupa - Tales of The Witcher
Summary: Dean's time is running out. There's nothing Sam can do.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. No profit made.
Vidder's Note: I was really depressed yesterday as I made this.
Warning: Possible tearjerker.
Download link: http://www.divshare.com/download/3458781-73a (since certain someone is gonna ask for it anyway... *smirk*)

Sam and Dean - Addicted ...and yes, it's wincest... ;)

Sat, 12 Jan 2008 17:50:49 GMT

Vidder: Jade
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 (come on, they still know what sex is... right?)
Lenght: 03:57
Spoilers: none that I can think of. Some clips are from season 3 but not spoilery.
Music: Kelly Clarkson - Addicted
Summary: Love is never easy, especially if you're in love with someone you really shouldn't be. But sometimes the addiction is so bad... You promise yourself that just one more time and then it's over, but it never is. Yes, yet again this is wincest. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Not making money with this.
Vidder's Note: I know this vid is not flawless, I can see all the editing mistakes myself, but I was just experimenting with my ed program, and hopefully it's not total crap. :)

Sam and Dean - Toxic (a fanfid)

Sun, 06 Jan 2008 00:03:10 GMT

Vidder: Jade
Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 (come on, they know what sex is)
Lenght: 03:19
Spoilers: none that I can think of. Some clips are from season 3 but not spoilery.
Music: Britney Spears - Toxic (yeah, really)
Summary: A little smile or a touch here and there... sometimes the temptation is too much, even when you know that it's wrong.
Yes kids, this is WINCEST. I love it, and if you don't, just simply don't watch it.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Not making money with this.
Vidder's Note: I HAD FUN! :D

Midnight Madness 2/?

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 21:09:33 GMT

Title: Midnight Madness 2/?
Author: Jade
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Category: horror, adventure, slash
Word Count: 1101 for this chapter
Spoilers: through first two seasons
Summary: It was just a simple haunted house case. At least so they thought...
Notes/Warnings: incest, violence, both graphic
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except that twisted imagination of mine.
Authors Note: My first attempt on multi-chapter fic with actual plot in it. Unbeta'd, so all the mistakes are mine alone.

Chapter 2

After checking out the environment the brothers returned to the front yard. They climbed up the old stairs to the front door, and Dean tried to open it.

“It’s locked?” Sam looked surprised. “Almost all the windows are broken, and still somebody bothered to lock the door?”

“Well, obviously that somebody doesn’t want us in that house.”

“The spirit?”

Dean thought for a while. “Yeah. Pick the lock open, Sam.”

Sam looked stunned: “You really think that the spirit will let us in that easy?”

“Well,” Dean said, “I have never heard of a ghost that was prepared for burglars. So go on, do your thing.”

Sam huffed. “The windows are open.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean shrugged, “But they’re kinda high and I’m not in a mood for physical exercise. Besides, I don’t think I’ve had a lock- jaw vaccine since… never? And I really don’t want to bleed all over the place because my little brother rather wants to have some shattered glass on him than go nice and clean through the front door.”

“Fine.”

Sam kneeled down, took the lockpick- set from his jacket pocket and started working. It was easier than he had expected. Maybe ghosts really weren’t prepared for lockpickers.

The old door opened with a creak. They stepped closer, cautiously taking a peek inside the building. The door opened to a huge lounge, and though there were spiderwebs and dust everywhere, it was easy to see that it hadn’t been just some sleazy bed-and-breakfast- place. This hotel had style.The lounge was almost circle- shaped, and it had staircases on each side leading to the balcony of the next floor.

“Getting anything?” Sam asked as Dean checked the EMF- meter.

“No, nothing.” Dean answered, turned to look at Sam and smirked. “But hey, the freaks come out at night, right?”

“The sun is setting in an hour. Maybe we’ll get lucky after dark.”

“Agreed. Let’s get something to eat.”

Sam laughed. “Dean and food, the epic lovestory of the century. Sorry to crush your dreams, but haven’t you noticed we’re kinda middle of nowhere?”

Dean looked over his shoulder and smirked again.

“That’s why I’m always prepared.” He stated, walking towards the Impala. “We have chips, beef jerky, soda and beer. Now what would it be?”

Sam followed him.

“Just gimme a beer.”

Dean looked at him pretending to be worried. “Ok. But drink it slowly. I don’t want you to go through that ‘please be so kind and kill me’- speech again. And please, please don’t start crying. It breaks my heart.”

“Screw you, Dean.” Sam answered and grabbed the beer bottle.

As the darkness fell, the complete lack of sound felt even creepier. Sam and Dean were grateful that it happened to be a full moon; otherwise they wouldn’t been able to see anything. They had flashlights, sure, but they knew from experience that those things had a bad habit of not working properly, especially if there was an angry spirit around.

“Ready?” Sam asked.

“Let’s see…” Dean checked the inventory. “Shotgun, rock salt, protection amulets, and my favorite; gasoline and matches. We’re gonna burn that bitch’s bones.”

“Yeah, when we find them first.” Sam reminded. “How are you so sure it’s a female? We don’t know anything about the hotel’s history or the violent deaths around here.”

Dean looked at Sam like he was retarded or something. “Haven’t you learned anything during your life? Women are evil, twisted and mean.”

Sam couldn’t hold his laughter :

“Sure. And someone here has some kind of weird kink for for evil, twisted and mean things.”

“Hey!” Dean pointed a finger at Sam. “There’s a reason why I don’t spend more than one night with the same girl. That way they don’t have time to cast their spell on me.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes it easier.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, you are just emotionally fucked up, afraid of commitments, and if you ever settle down with anyone, I’m gonna eat my hat.”

“Well, that was beautifully said, Sam.” Dean nod his head, looking not amused at all. “First, you don’t know anything about my emotional fuck ups. Don’t you come and tell me how I feel or don’t feel. Second, You don’t know anything about anything. I have loved, and it hurt so bad I decided to never go there again. So shut the fuck up.”

Dean turned around and left Sam at the car. Sam was really confused. What had pissed Dean off so totally? Usually Dean even joked about his lovelife (translation: sexlife), but now he seemed angry for real.

“Dean, wait!” Sam left after his brother, jogging to keep up with Dean who was heading full speed towards the hotel. “Just wait, goddammit!”

Sam grabbed Dean’s arm, roughly stopping him and turning him around.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” Sam said quietly. “I really am. But I still don’t know what got you so wired up.”

“Maybe it’s the full moon.” Dean still didn’t smile. “I’ve heard it can drive people nuts.”

“Just don’t start howling, ok?”

Dean finally smirked and Sam was relieved.

“What if I do?”Dean asked.

Sam chukled. “I guess I’d be forced to gag you. Not that your howling would bother anyone, since there ain’t a soul around –no, wait, one soul- ,but it would drive me insane and there’s a good chance I’d start howling with you, and I’d really like to keep what’s left of my dignity.”

Now Dean looked really amused. “First he talks about gagging me and then of his dignity. You’re a twisted one, Samuel winchester.”

That sounded so strange, Dean using Sam’s real name, but before he had too much time to wonder about it, Dean patted him on the shoulder and said:

“Let’s go and kill something, shall we?”

They entered the lounge. Moonlight lit it almost perfectly, so there were no need for flashlights. It all looked so peaceful, blue light coming through the windows, and even the silence didn’t sound so bad now that they were used to it. That’s why they both startled when a sound broke it. Like tinkling or something. Sam took a few steps further to the room to find out from which direction the sound came from, when he realized it came above him. He slowly lifted his eyes to the ceiling. A huge chandelier hanged from it, shaking and rattling, and it was right on top of where Sam was standing.

“Sam! Watch out!” he heard Dean yelling at the same moment that the chandelier fell of the ceiling, and everything went black.

Supernatural - The Misery

Mon, 26 Nov 2007 19:07:23 GMT

Vidder: Jade
Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG, I guess?
Lenght: 05:08
Spoilers: none
Music: Sonata Arctica - The Misery
Summary: The boys face so much pain and misery in their lives, but at the end of the day they still have each other. I was on an emo-overload and this is the result.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Not making money with this.
Vidder's Note: My second vid I've ever done. I got frustrated towards the end and I guess it kinda shows. Patience is not one of my virtues.

Fri, 09 Nov 2007 19:40:17 GMT

Title: Midnight Madness 1/?
Author: Jade
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Category: horror, adventure, slash
Word Count: 851 for this chapter
Spoilers: through first two seasons
Summary: It was just a simple haunted house case. At least so they thought...
Notes/Warnings: incest, violence, both graphic
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except that twisted imagination of mine.
Authors Note: My first attempt on multi-chapter fic with actual plot in it. Unbeta'd, so all the mistakes are mine alone.

“Awesome!” Dean cheered as he hung up his cellphone and turned to his little brother, “Ellen just called. We’ve got a case.”

“And?” Sam lifted his eyebrows, “What’s so wonderful about that? Last time we got a case from her, you were not too happy about it. I can actually recall you saying pretty inappropriate things when—“

“Well that was then”, Dean interrupted Sam, “And I only bitched about it ‘cause it was clearly a shapeshifter case and damn, I hate those things!”

“So, what do we got this time?”

Big, bright smile enlightened Dean’s face:
“A classic haunted house. Well, a hotel, actually.”

“A haunted hotel?” Sam asked and a cute, little ‘I’m thinking’- wrinkle appeared on his forehead, “Didn’t we have a case like that—“

“Yeah”, Dean interrupted again, “The one time when you got really drunk and cried like a baby.”

“I didn’t—“

“But this is different because the place has been abandoned for years and it’s all dusty and broken-windowed and… You know, a classic haunted house. Man, I am so excited!”

“Yeah”, Sam said slowly, “I can see that. Just don’t cream your pants over it ‘cause that’d be awkward…”

“Oh shut up, Sam. Get your ass up and start packing, we’ve got work to do.”

Dean got up of the motel bed and started to gather his things. Sam smiled and followed his brother’s example.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, where is this mystery mansion of yours?” Sam asked as Dean started the Impala.

“Louisiana”, Dean smirked, “Near Baton Rouge. Fits, right? You know, hoodoo, superstitions, all that stuff…?”

“Seems like this time it’s more than superstition. So, the usual haunting signs? Weird noises, flickering lights?”

“Yup.”

“Could be just rats and old power-lines.”

“Except the power was cut off years ago”, Dean told and gave his brother a slightly irritated glimpse, “And why do you have to be such a killjoy? Couldn’t you just be happy about the fact that for once we have a case that ain’t too hard? For once we know exactly what to do!”

“Yeah, yeah”, Sam answered, “Check the place, find out why the spirit hasn’t moved on and what it wants, then kill it or set it free.”

“And what’s so bad about that?”

“Nothing, really. I just have a bad feeling about this one.”

Dean gave his brother a semi- worried look:
“A bad feeling like, I had a vision in which we’re all gonna die, or just like, I’m all melancholy and moody and it doesn’t matter since we’re all gonna die anyway?”

“I don’t know”, Sam shrugged, not picking up the bait his brother had just cast for him, “I mean, I haven’t had a vision for days, but I still have a bad feeling about this. Call it intuition or whatever you want.”

“I call it PMS. No, seriously”, Dean said, “ Sometimes I could swear you’re a girl.”

When Sam didn’t answer, Dean made his last attempt to cheer his brother up:
“Come on. It’s summer and it’s really beautiful at Louisiana this time of year. You’re gonna like it.”

“Oh yeah, swamps, alligators and old folks with no teeth… just what I need.”

“For Christ’s sake”, Dean snapped, “What is it, huh? You’re so tense you could be used as a piano string!”

Sam huffed.

“You need to get laid”, Dean decided, “We’ll find you a nice, pretty creole girl and then feel all better, trust me.”

“I don’t want a nice, pretty creole girl.”

“Ok, a creole boy then. Whatever rocks your boat.”

“Yeah, fuck you too…”

Dean smirked:
“Sam used the f- word…”

“Cut it out!” Sam yelled but couldn’t help himself laughing, “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

Dean grinned even wider:

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“My oh my, look at that.”

Sam had to agree, the building in front of him was quite impressing. Though the paint was chipping and most of the windows were broken, it was easy to imagine what it had looked like in it’s glory days.

“Yeah. Quite impressive.”

“I bet it has a secret hoodoo- room in it.”

Sam rolled his eyes:
“Dude, you’ve been watching too many movies…”

“Maybe”, Dean grinned, “But this is still pretty cool, don’t you think?”

“Sure. The floors are rotten and---“

“And we’re all gonna die. I know. Let’s take a closer look, shall we?”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At first they circled around the house. The garden looked just like it was, not been taken care for years, but it was still beautiful. Wild flowers grew along with the ones that had been planted years ago, all together in chaotic harmony. The scent of them was almost overwhelming. Old majestic trees were covered in moss, and the grass had grown long. The only thing missing was sound. There were no birds, no crickets, nothing. The silence was complete.

“Creepy”, Dean stated, and all Sam could do was nod. The air was hot, humid and oppressive. You could almost feel something evil lurking around, and it was still bright in the middle of the day. Yeah, Sam definitely had a bad feeling about this one.

Fic: Like Desert Needs the Rain

Thu, 25 Oct 2007 07:18:28 GMT

Title: Like Desert Needs the Rain
Author: Jade
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Category: slash
Word Count: 712
Spoilers: none
Summary: A short survey on their relationship.
Notes/Warnings: incest, extreme schmoop (yes, that is a warning)
Disclaimer: Kripke, you lucky bastard...
Authors Note: I can't believe I wrote something this fluffy... Time to check my medication! Also the shortest story I've ever written, I wrote it in a hurry, and it's unbeta'd since I don't wanna overload my dear Shea. Feel free to point out if there's mistakes so I can correct them.

Sam lies on his stomach, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

Dean’s hands are holding him down, fingers digging into Sam’s skin, as he thrusts inside Sam; deep, slow, so slow it’s almost unbearable. Sam keens low in his throat as Dean rolls his hips, knowing exactly how to drive his brother wild. The slow rhythm, a gentle bite on Sam’s shoulder once in a while, teasing little licks on his sensitive neck…

Sam moans like he’s in pain, but Dean knows better. He has learned to read Sam like an open book, and there might be a little pain, but that pain is of the sweetest kind. Dean knows how it feels to be so aroused it actually hurts.

The first time Sam gave Dean a blowjob, Dean was sure he would die of it. Sam did it like he had all time in the world, devouring Dean’s taste, sucking him slow and sweet, and even though it was a long ago, the memory of that first time makes Dean sigh out of pleasure. He remembers how he couldn’t hold himself back, tension building way too high, and Sam drinking of him until he was weak, empty, and his knees gave in. Sam held him close, kissed him lightly on the lips, and they stayed like that for a while.

Then Sam cupped Dean’s face, looked deep into his eyes, and in that look Dean could see everything Sam wasn’t saying.

Dean got up from the floor, pulling Sam up as well. He led Sam to the bed and made love to him for the fist time. Slowly, gently; knowing it was Sam’s first time, and he didn’t want to hurt his brother.

As time went by, Dean figured out that the gentle way wasn’t the only way. Sometimes Sam wanted, needed, to be fucked so hard he could feel Dean for days. Sometimes Sam begged for pain, begged for Dean to hurt him, explaining that when he felt pain, he knew he was truly alive. Dean understood, he knew that feeling himself. They were like one soul in two different bodies, and when their bodies collided, they were one. It was perfection, serenity, a heaven on earth.

Sam buries his face to the pillow, muffling words that sound something like ‘love’ and ‘need’ and ‘never leave’. Dean presses his face against Sam’s neck, inhaling the sweet scent of his brother. And at that moment he realizes, that this is love. Not just need, want and desire, but pure, honest love, and for the first time in his life Dean isn’t afraid of that feeling, doesn’t feel the need to run away. How could he? Sam is a part of him, and without Sam he would be incomplete, lost, and broken. Dean is like a dry desert, and Sam is like rain; the rain that comes down and fills that empty desert with life. Dean’s hands wander around Sam’s body, wanting to feel every inch of the smooth skin beneath his fingers. He’s deep inside Sam, but he still needs to get closer, so close that he doesn’t even know where he ends and where Sam begins. This new sensation feels better than anything Dean has ever felt before. He has never made love to someone he loves, really loves; firmly and unconditionally. But he loves Sam, he’s in love with Sam. His brother, his lover, his everything.

“I love you.” Dean mouths against Sam’s neck, and even if Sam doesn’t hear that, it doesn’t matter. They don’t need words. Every move Dean makes is filled with love and tenderness, and Sam can feel it. Sam closes his eyes again as Dean moves inside him, ever so slowly, kissing his neck, biting gently his shoulder, and Sam is close, so close… Dean smiles as he feels his brother’s muscles tensing under him. Two more slow thrusts and Sam comes undone, and Dean follows him not far behind as Sam trembles and lets out fast and light breaths. Dean shivers and kisses Sam’s neck again. This is it, Dean thinks as they both enjoy the afterglow of that sweet, slow torture. People say that home is where the heart is, and for the first time in his life Dean feels like he’s come home.

Dirty picspam...

Wed, 24 Oct 2007 17:33:40 GMT

Like I said, from now on my dirtiest stuff is in here. I've been craving to do this dirty little wincest-picspam, so here we go...

"So, here's our motel."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah, but it's now my turn to top."

"Let's talk about that when we get inside, 'kay?"

Moments later...

"You are so gonna bottom tonight, Dean!"

"Watch me!"

No, you watch me! Tonight your ass belongs to me!"

"Fine."

"Great! Then let's get down to business! Loose the layers."

"You know that I hate you, don't you Sam?"

"You love being my bitch."

"Sam, it's you who's my bitch. And I don't bottom."

Now you all think it's Dean's manly macho ego speaking,
but he actually has a good reason why he doesn't like to be
the bottom.

Wanna know why?

Because Sam is a big boy. BIG. And there is one thing that
Dean Winchester hasn't defeated yet. The Cockzilla.

Fic: I Saw You Coming

Tue, 23 Oct 2007 22:57:02 GMT

Title: I Saw You Coming
Author: Jade
Pairings/Characters: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Category: J2, slash
Word Count: 4197
Spoilers: none
Summary: Jared can't help but grin as a pretty inappropriate thought occurs to him. No way. He shouldn't do this, but shit, he's gonna do it anyway.
Notes/Warnings: schmoop, first time
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except that twisted imagination of mine.
Authors Note: My first J2-fic. Beta'd by amazing shea Enjoy.

Jared feels great. The work week is over, and there's a whole free weekend ahead of him. He takes a last look in the mirror. Oh yeah, he is quite self- assured of his looks, and what he sees in the mirror pleases him.

Tight black leather pants, even tighter black sleeveless shirt, and a well-fitting black leather jacket. Just a little bit of black eye-liner, and he's ready to go.

Tonight he wants to have fun, and he has a pretty good idea where to find that. There's an underground club in downtown Vancouver he hadn't heard of before, but hell, that's a good thing. If he hadn't heard of it, then most likely the paparazzi hadn't either.

Yeah, definitely a good thing 'cause Jared is ready to have some real fun, and maybe in that club he'll find what he's looking for. What that is, he doesn't know exactly, but he will sure find out when he gets there.

The bouncer on the door doesn't seem to recognize Jared, but lets him in without question. This is a club for the young and beautiful, and apparently he just passed on both. He heads down the stairs, to the basement, and as he enters, loud music washes over him. It feels good. It feels like he's truly alive.

Jared's eyes wander around the dim, smoky room. It's for sure quite a selection here, sweaty bodies tangled together, writhing against each other on the dance-floor, but no one in particular seems to catch his attention.

Well, the night is young and all he has is time, so he heads to the bar and orders a drink.

Jared is in the middle of his third drink when he finally sees someone he likes. It's someone he actually knows, and definitely someone he never expected to see in here. But there he is, across the room, his green eyes staring right back at Jared's, and they both look a bit surprised but try their best to hide it.

Jared can't help but grin as a pretty inappropriate thought occurs to him. No way. He shouldn't do this, but shit, he's gonna do it anyway. He smiles wickedly and slowly starts making his way across the dance-floor to the opposite side of the room.

"Hello, stranger." Jared smiles in his most seductive way, and realizing this is a huge risk and might end up really badly. Jensen just looks back at him, expression curious.

"Hey yourself," he replies with a playful tone, "So, what's a pretty little thing like you doing in this nest of decadence?"

Jared laughs. Okay, Jensen might just be kidding around, but God, ain't that tacky pick-up line like the sexiest thing he's ever heard when it comes from Jensen's mouth?

"Just trying to have some fun." Jared grins. "You?"

"Hunting pretty little things to have fun with." Suddenly Jensen doesn't sound so playful anymore. "So, have you found your fun yet?"

Jared stares at Jensen, trying to figure out what is going on behind those green eyes. "Maybe." He says cautiously. "How about you?"

Jensen tilts his head back and smiles still keeping his eyes at Jared's.

"That depends."

"Of what?"

"Of how scared this pretty little thing at my sight is." He pauses for a second. "And if he's only playing around, because that's not what I came here for."

Jared can't help but shiver as he feels this sharp sting of excitement deep down his stomach.

"You're blushing, Jared."

"I don't blush," Jared states although he can feel himself blushing even more with every word.

"Yes you do. Thinking naughty things there?"

"I…"

"Come on, you can tell me." Jensen whispers, but loud enough so Jared can hear him over the music. "What are you thinking of?"

"No way I'm telling you!" Jared laughs and tries to make it all look like a joke, but Jensen is staring at him , and Jared knows that his eyes are giving him away.

"Ok, if you really wanna know, I was thinking about two blond cheerleaders with—"

"Liar." Jensen's voice is somewhere between amused and irritated, and Jared opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he just doesn't find the words. Busted.

There's a pause before Jensen continues with a low, quiet voice. "Listen, we can circle around each other like stray cats all night long, or we can just cut the bullshit. Are you blushing because this feels awkward and you want to run away as fast as you can, or are we on the same level here?"

"Jensen…" Jared starts, but Jensen cuts him off.

"Hush. Yes or no. If you don't want this, just say so. I promise nothing will change if you say no. We can pretend that all of this never happened and go on just like we were before."

Jensen takes a good, long look at Jared, all the way from his shaggy hair down to his mile- long legs.

"You look good in leather. " he mutters.

That's it for Jared. He grabs Jensen by the arm and drags him to the restroom. As soon as they get inside, and Jared locks the door behind them, Jensen shoves him roughly against the wall, grabs his jaw and forces him to look him in the eyes.

"Just to let you know," Jensen growls, "My whole life I have never, ever wanted to do something like this with another guy, but you…." He looks at Jared's lips and licks his own, "There's something about you just makes me want to eat you alive."

Jared is breathing heavily, his eyes now closed. His pants seem to fit a little tighter than they should, and he realizes that he has a raging hard-on.

Jensen drops down on his knees before him.

"Jen," Jared whimpers. "What are we doing?"

Jensen laughs, deep and throaty. "Do you really want me to give you a detailed report, or are you just gonna shut up and let me suck your dick? Seems to me that your tiny, sexy pants are about to explode, so why don't you just let me ease you a bit."

He unbuttons Jared's pants quickly and yanks them down.

"Oh…" is all Jensen can say at first when he looks at Jared's groin. "Well that's… impressive."

"Jen, you don't have to...."

"Shut up. I wonder if it tastes as good as it looks."

With those words he takes Jared's rock-hard member into his mouth, sucking it deeper and deeper until he can't take it anymore without gagging. Then he almost lets it pop out of his mouth before sucking in deep again. Jared feels like his knees are gonna give in. He whimpers and tries his best not to faint because of the wet, amazing heat of Jensen's mouth.

"Jen…"

"Mmph?"

"Oh god…"

"Hmmmhh?"

"Jensen, stop!"

Jensen lifts his face, looking slightly worried.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

"God, no!" Jared tries to catch his breath. "I just don't wanna come like a twelve year old the minute you've started!"

Jensen grins. He takes that as a compliment.

"Are you sure you haven't gave a blow-job before?" Jared asks, still a little out of breath.

"I haven't," Jensen smirks, "But I've received a few in my life, so I kinda get the idea."

"Yeah, I noticed. What now?" Jared asks.

"That's up to you," Jensen replies, now serious. "Whatever feels good to you."

"How far do you wanna go?"

"Up to you, again. I'm ready for anything."

Jared looks at Jensen, at his beautiful, slightly swollen lips and those amazing green eyes.

"Anything?" He asks, "You mean like… all the way?"

Jensen's eyes give him the answer.

Jared is silent for a long moment before speaking again. "Okay, Jen, but not in here. Call me sentimental or girly or whatever, but this is kinda my first time and…"

Jensen smiles.

"I understand. My first time too. Let's get out of here."

On the short drive to Jensen's apartment, Jared has too much time to think. Mostly he's worried that Jensen will come to his senses and drop him home, and they will never be able to look each other in the eyes again. But soon the drive is over and here they are. Jensen still shows no signs of regret. As soon as the front door closes behind them, Jensen is all over Jared, pushing him roughly against large mirror. It makes an alarming creaking noise, but surprisingly doesn't fall off the wall.

Jensen curls his fingers around the back of Jared's neck and sighs.

"You have no idea how hot you look with eye-liner. Kinda makes me want to…"

"What?" Jared asks, his voice no louder than a whisper. Jensen doesn't answer with words. Instead he pulls Jared closer and kisses him. The kiss is air-light, not much more than a quick touch of lips, but the effect it causes could be measured on a Richter's scale.

"Holy shit," is the only thing Jensen manages to say before their lips meet again, this time with more pressure. Deeper, hungrier. Jensen grabs Jared's hair and forces him closer, deepening the kiss even more, begging- no, demanding- entrance, and who could resist Jensen Ackles' demands? Jared can't, so he opens his mouth and in a second Jensen's tongue is in there, rough and violent and so goddamn delicious.

When Jensen catches Jared's tongue and sucks it hard, Jared has a sudden urge to come into his pants right then and there. He moans the way that he didn't even know he could. God, what is he doing? What are they doing?? Jensen is his costar for Christ's sake! They have to work together at least five days a week, and here they are, Jensen's tongue practically shoved down Jared's throat. He can't even blame this on them being drunk, since he only had those two-and-a-half drinks, and as far as he knows Jensen's sober.

It's like Jensen could read his thoughts.

"Stop thinking so hard," he growls and turns Jared around, pushing him down on his knees so that they both face the mirror.

"Look at yourself," Jensen whispers, voice heavy with lust. Kneeling down behind Jared, he pulls his head back. "Ain't that just the most fuck-able thing you've ever seen?"

Jared looks at the mirror. His pupils are dilated so wide his eyes look totally black, his cheeks and neck are blushed, and his erection is pressing against his pants so hard it hurts.

"Yeah…" Jensen breaths in his ear as his hand reaches down and yanks Jared's shirt. "So fuck-able." He presses his own erection against Jared's ass. Jared's mind goes blank.

"Who are you and what you have done to Jensen?" he pants. "I thought you were supposed to be the shy one here."

"Jay, Jay, Jay… " Jensen whispers wickedly. " Don't you know that it's the silent ones you should really be scared of? Now, I want your shirt off."

Jared watches in trance as Jensen basically tears the shirt off and their eyes meet again in the mirror. Jensen's eyes are dark with lust too, and slowly he peels off his own shirt and throws it aside along with Jared's.

He closes the distance between them and presses his chest against Jared's back. Jared gasps sharply as the warm, bare skin caresses his own, and automatically leans back to feel more of it. Jensen sighs out of pleasure and reaches down to unbutton Jared's pants. Jared is grateful that he doesn't have a zipper because it surely would've exploded long ago.

Jensen opens the top button and stops, looking at Jared, his hands still on Jared's lap. Jared tries to reach down to unbutton himself, but Jensen is quick as a cat, grabs Jared's wrists and pulls them behind his back. Jared moans as his hands are firmly trapped between Jensen's thighs and Jensen's hands start to wander towards the pants again. He undoes the second button with no hurry. Slowly, slowly, slowly he reaches for the next one and Jared's gritting his teeth.

"You're torturing me, Jen…"

"Yeah? Whatcha gonna do about it?" He presses his hand against the bulge in Jared's pants and rubs it so lightly that Jared wants to scream. "What are you gonna do?" Jensen whispers again and adds pressure, making Jared gasp for air.

"Fuck you, Jen!"

"Is that a promise?" Jensen laughs. "Actually I was planning it the other way around. I was thinking of shoving my cock in that sweet little ass of yours and fucking your brains out…"

"Holy hell!" Jared cries. "Stop being such a tease and do something, anything, just… God!"

"Frustrated, baby?"

Jared growls like a wild animal, and before Jensen has time to tighten his hold of Jared's hands, Jared breaks free, turns around and pushes Jensen on his back to the floor, nailing Jensen down and grabbing his wrists above his head.

"Who's laughing now?" Jared pants smiling victoriously. "I'm gonna make you my bitch."

"Uuuh, I love it when you talk dirty. Tell me more."

"I'm gonna suck you until your eyes are rolling in your head, and I'm not gonna let you come until you beg and plead. I'm gonna—"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."

Jared doesn't need to be told twice. The kiss is hungry and desperate. Jared holds Jensen's wrists so hard it actually hurts, but it's good pain. It's good everything when it's Jared doing it. Finally they pull apart, out of breath. For a moment they just look at each other, and then they are kissing again. It feels so good, so good.

"I want you, Jen," Jared breaths on Jensen's mouth, "I want you so bad…"

"Bedroom…" Jensen pants between kisses. "Now."

Somehow they manage to actually get on their feet, and although the bedroom isn't that far away, it takes them almost five minutes to get there with all the kissing, stumbling and bouncing from one wall to another.

Jensen pushes Jared back first on the bed and stands few feet away, just looking at Jared until he practically attacks him. Both men are already shirtless, and the denim of Jensen's jeans and the leather of Jared's pants are definitely in the way, so the conclusion is to get rid of them as fast as possible.

Jensen is on top of Jared and there's no way he's taking it slow anymore. Jensen yanks Jared's pants down so roughly, that though his nails are blunt, they still leave red scratches on Jared's thighs. When Jared is completely naked, Jensen lays on top of him again and starts devouring his mouth with all the lust and passion that is usually hidden under his cool behavior.

Tonight there's no holding back, not tonight, as Jensen has finally got the thing he has wanted for the last two years. That is Jared in his bed, lying under him, kissing him, loving him . No, no, no… This is pure desire, it has nothing to do with love. Jensen has to remind himself, that Jared is young and for sure experimental and willing to try new things, but love…

"Who's thinking too hard now?" Jared's rough and amused voice asks.

"Shut up."

"Jen, it's you who's blushing now."

Jensen pauses before he answers. "I just can't believe this is truly happening…"

Jared looks worried. "Having second thoughts?"

"God, no!" Jensen snaps, sounding more aggravated than he meant. "I mean… what if you wake up in the morning and realize that you hate me for what I've done? I don't want to lose everything we have over one night of… what? What is this? I don't even know anymore!"

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey, you're talking like you'd be the only one involved in this. In that club, it was me who started hitting on you, remember? So that kinda turns the tables, huh?"

Jensen sighs.

"What is it?" Jared asks. "What are you not telling me?"

Jensen just turns his face away. Jared rolls them over, ending on top of Jensen. He grabs Jensen's jaw and forces him to look him in the eyes.

"What's wrong?" Jared asks so softly it makes Jensen want to cry.

"I can't …"

"Tell me. Now. You know that whatever it is, it won't change my opinion of you. You're my best friend, and I love you."

"Don't you understand?!" Jensen snaps. "That is the problem! I love you too!"

Jared is confused.

"Why exactly is that a problem?" he asks gently.

Jensen stares right into Jared's eyes as he answers. "Because I love you more than I should."

Hell, now he's said that., why not let the rest of it out too? "I have wanted you since the first time I saw you, and you have no idea what you're doing to me. Hell, I don't even understand it myself."

Pause. Jensen swallows.

"If you want to leave, it's ok. I can call you a cab."

Jared stares at Jensen, his expression serious.

"No," he finally says. "I'm staying. And we're gonna do this, because you know what?"

"What?" A whisper.

"Because it could have been me saying those words to you. Please, don't push me away, Jen. I've been waiting for this for too long already." Jared's eyes are begging. "Don't make me feel like this and then say that you can't for whatever reason—"

Jensen cuts him off with a kiss that could melt an iceberg.

Jared sighs. He gets up and starts unbuttoning Jensen's jeans. Two buttons, a zipper, and then Jensen's bare abdomen is under Jared's hands. Jensen's skin is soft and warm, and just begging to be touched. Jared slowly peels the jeans off along with Jensen's boxers. He can do nothing but look at the beautiful sight before him until the craving becomes unbearable, and he needs to press himself against Jensen's naked body.

"Jen?" He mumbles against Jensen's neck.

"Yeah?"

"I want you so bad it hurts."

Jensen smiles and bites Jared's neck playfully. "Then I guess we have to do something about it. Trust me, under all this sudden emo shit I'm so fucking horny that I just want to fuck you stupid."

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?"

"Is that an invitation?" Jensen grins.

"No," Jared chuckles. "That is an order. Come on, make me your bitch."

Jensen wants to laugh. He is so relieved that the atmosphere is once again relaxed, and they can even joke around.

Jared throws himself on the bed and starts squirming. "Come on, give it to me, take me, shove that big cock of yours into my small, tight ass…"

"Oh god…" Jensen breaths. "There he is, talking dirty again… Jared, you are a very, very naughty boy."

"So punish me, and if you don't come here right away I swear I'm gonna rape you."

"Oh really?" Jensen leans to his elbow looking amused.

"Really." Jared convinces. "I'm serious as a heart attack."

Jensen rises his left eyebrow and smirks obscenely:

"Well, after I'm done you just might end up having one."

Jared chuckles. "Sure. Now come here and give that heart attack I've been waiting for the whole evening."

"Ask and you shall receive, " Jensen murmurs and climbs on top of Jared.

Jared never imagined it to be like this. Slow kisses, warm skin against his own, and still it's so different if compared to making love with a girl. Jensen's stubble is itching and scratching against where ever he decides to kiss Jared next, and there's also the difference that there's absolutely nothing soft in Jensen's body. Jensen's body is hard, muscular, perfect.

Jared can only sigh and moan as Jensen's lips move up and down his own body, exploring every inch of his skin. When Jensen finally sucks Jared's throbbing member in his hot and wet mouth, Jared whines like a little puppy.

"You're killing me, Jen…"

"Mmhm…"

"God, I thought girls want long foreplay, but you are without a doubt the winner in that competition…"

Jensen lifts his head, looks at Jared and licks his lips. "I want you to be completely relaxed before I…"

"Well this ain't helping! Right now I'm about as tense as a freaking guitar string!"

"Ok. Hold on a sec…"

Jensen reaches out to the drawer of the bedside table and takes out a bottle of lube. He coats his cock with it and then starts to work on Jared. He spreads the lube on Jared's ass, teasing Jared's opening with his finger, while his other hand keeps jerking Jared's cock with a slow, steady rhythm.

Jared closes his eyes and breaths faster and faster, and Jensen knows that he's close. He places himself between Jared's spread legs and tugs a pillow under Jared's hips. Jared is so close, it's only a matter of seconds. Jensen places the head of his cock on Jared's entrance and jerks him harder, faster.

Jared's back arches, and at the moment he comes, Jensen thrusts himself deep inside of Jared.

Jared's eyes squeeze shut even tighter. The look on his face is a mixture of pure overwhelming pleasure with pain, and he lets out a scream that sounds more like an animal than human, grabbing the sheets and fisting them so hard his knuckles go white.

Jensen gasps for air as Jared contracts around his aching cock. He tries to think of anything but the urge to come right away. He doesn't move, but waits for Jared to come down from the heights his orgasm just flew him into.

Jared's eyes open slowly, his mouth is open and wet, tanned skin sweaty. He looks absolutely gorgeous.

"Does it hurt?" Jensen asks carefully. Jared shakes his head and pushes his hips closer to Jensen, impaling himself even deeper. He shivers as these new sensations go through his body while he's still having aftershocks of his orgasm.

"God you're beautiful…" Jensen whispers. "Jared, I…"

"I know. Come here."

Jensen lifts Jared's legs to the position where he can lean down and still be inside Jared. For a moment, he just rests his head on Jared's chest, listening his heart beating steadily. Then he lifts up and kisses Jared softly.

"You feel good inside me…" Jared whispers when they break the kiss. "So good."

Jensen swallows. "You're so fucking tight I can hardly breathe. God…"

Jared's eyes are hazy and drowsy, and he smiles. "Why don't you stretch me up a little bit then?" he asks and pulls Jensen closer until his cock is buried inside Jared to the hilt. Jensen pants and swallows again.

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt?" he whispers.

"It doesn't," Jared smiles. "Come on, move with me…"

Carefully Jensen pulls back a bit, and thrusts slowly in again. Jared's breathing is slow and he throws his head back and closes his eyes. There is no question that he's enjoying this. His blushed cheeks give him away.

Jensen thrusts in a little harder, and Jared moans. Jensen does that again, and again Jared moans, this time louder. Jensen can't hold himself back anymore. His pace gets faster and rougher, and the harder he fucks Jared, the louder Jared gets. Jensen loves it. He has always liked sex to be loud, and hot, and dirty.

Fucking his costar in the ass while he pants and moans and gasps is pretty dirty.

"Jay…"

"Mmmh…"

"Dude, I gotta stop now for a while or I'm not gonna last--- "

"You don't have to." Jared pants. "I'm so fucking close. Don't stop. Come, Jen. Come for me…"

Jensen's moves get erratic and he groans, pushing inside Jared again and again and again, and as he comes, his scream mixes with Jared's. Jensen collapses on top of Jared, ignoring the sticky, warm wetness of Jared's cum between them.

"Wow…" is the cleverest thing he manages to get out of his mouth. "Just… wow."

"Jen?"

Jensen looks at Jared who has a lazy smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

Jensen just stares at Jared for a while, before whispering, "I love you too."

Moment of silence.

"Will you stay?" Jensen asks.

Jared chuckles. "You couldn't get me up from this bed even if you tried."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

Jensen seems to have hard time getting the words out, but finally he whispers. "I mean… will you stay with me? Be with me? I want you in my life, Jared, and not just as a friend. I want all of you."

Jared smiles and pulls Jensen close to him, kissing his cheeks and forehead.

"Jen, you don't have to ask me that."

He kisses Jensen's lips, takes a sheet to cover them and whispers:

"I was yours the first time you laid your eyes on me."

Fic: If You Really Love Me

Tue, 23 Oct 2007 22:48:32 GMT

Title: If You Really Love Me
Author: Jade
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Category: slash
Word Count: 3586
Spoilers: none
Summary: Sam’s eyes are praying, and though Sam doesn’t believe Dean understands, he actually does. He knows why this is so important to Sam. It’s the ultimate proof of his love; If you really love me, you’ll do the thing you never ever want to do because I ask you to. It’s twisted and painful, but he really does understand.
Notes/Warnings: angst, incest, first time
Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity.
Thanks to shea for correcting my mistakes.

They’re standing in the pouring rain, face to face, just looking at each other. They are both soaking wet, but neither of them will not make a move to get inside their cheap motel room.

Finally Dean breaks the silence. “We really should go inside before you catch pneumonia.”

“I’m fine,” Sam replies with a tone that tells Dean he’s anything but fine.

“Right,” Dean sighs. “Your lips are turning blue. You’re white as a ghost, and haven’t you noticed that you’re shaking like you have goddamned Parkinson’s? Yeah, I’m sure you’re just fine.”

“Don’t start,” Sam says, but not with the usual irritated tone, more like tired and defeated.

“Sam, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Whether you’re gonna like it or not, I’m gonna drag you inside and put you to a hot shower. Then you’re gonna tell me exactly what the hell is the matter with you.”

Before Sam has time to react, Dean grabs him tightly around his ribs, and literally drags his little brother towards the door of their room. Sam is too cold and weak to resist. He let’s Dean push him inside the small room.

“Now take your clothes off.” Dean commands and Sam tries, but his frozen fingers refuse to cooperate.

“OK,” Dean lets out a sigh. “Don’t try to punch me or anything, but it seems like you could use some help.”

Sam doesn’t resist when his big brother unbuttons his shirt and peels it off along with his soaking wet t-shirt. He doesn’t even protest when Dean starts to take his jeans off and then his boxers as well. He just stands in the middle of the room, naked and shivering, and his mind seems to be at least million miles away.

Dean's starting to get worried.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You better get to that hot shower right now or you’re seriously gonna get sick…”

Sam’s mind seems to get back into this world as he looks at his brother, and the look he has in his eyes scares Dean. Sam has never looked at him that way. Sure he’s been angry before but now there's more, and Dean could swear it’s disappointment, and he doesn’t understand. They’ve had a good week, not even the usual fights and arguments, so what’s wrong?

“Sammy….”

“Don’t try to be nice!” Sam snaps all the sudden. “You don’t have to do that anymore.”

Sam walks to the bathroom. He closes the door, and Dean can hear him locking it which he hardly ever does. What the hell is going on!?

After about half an hour, Dean is getting anxious. Sure, Sammy likes his showers long, but the thing that makes him nervous is that he can’t hear sounds of washing or movement. The only sound coming out of the bathroom is the water pouring down on the shower floor.

Ok, fine. It’s about time to get some clarification on this. Dean moves to the door and starts to pick the lock open. It only takes couple of seconds with his skills and then he opens the door and steps into the bathroom.

Sam is sitting on the grey tile floor under the shower, resting his chin against his knees, water dripping from the long locks of his hair. Dean can’t see his face.

“Sam…” he whispers and reaches his hand to shut the water. He freezes when the water touches his hand. It’s ice-cold.

Dean reacts quickly, grabbing towels and pulling his brother forcefully up from the floor. He places the towels on Sam’s shoulders, wraps one on his hips and all the time Sam looks to be completely numb.

Dean drags him to the nearest bed and tugs him under the blanket. He quickly strips down to his boxers and slips under the covers with Sam.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks quietly as Dean pulls him close and wraps his arms around his little brother.

“I’m using my body heat to warm you up,” Dean answers. “I don’t want you to freeze to death.”

“Like it would matter…” Sam mutters.

“Shut up. We’ve gotta get you warm.”

They lay still for awhile until Dean places his hand on Sam’s forehead to check his temperature. Sam doesn’t even flinch.

“Sam?”

“Don’t.”

“Jesus man, talk to me! Tell me what’s wrong! I can’t help you if I don’t even have a clue what the hell is wrong!”

Sam lifts his head a bit so that he can look Dean in the eyes.

“You left me.”

“What??”

Sam’s voice grows desperate, the first sign today that he actually has feelings hidden under that silent numbness.

“You left me all alone, without a warning, without even saying goodbye!”

“Sam, what the hell are you talking about? I've never left you!”

“Not yet,” Sam whispers, raising his eyebrows, “but you will.”

“Never,” Dean assures him, his voice determined. “Not gonna happen. And where’d you get those crazy ideas anyway?”

Sam stays silent for a moment before answering:

“I saw it happen. Last night.”

“Sam, it was just a nightmare…”

“No it wasn’t! It was too real, just like my other visions!”

“Sam,” Dean sighs. “Why would I ever leave you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Sam shoots back.

Dean sighs even deeper. “What do you want me to say, Sam? What can I do to make you believe me?”

“Let me think…. Nothing, absolutely nothing, and it would be best if you left right away. There’s no reason to keep pretending. It’ll only make things worst.”

Dean looks at his little brother, confusion turning to anger.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fine,” Sam replies and starts to move himself out of the bed. “I’ll make it easier for you then and leave myself.”

But before he can even set one foot on the floor, he feels strong arms pulling him back down, smashing him against the mattress and the next thing he sees are his brother’s hazel-green eyes staring back at his own.

“You’re not going anywhere either...” Dean growls deep down from his throat, making shivers run through Sam’s spine.

Sam makes his final attempt to escape but his brother pins him down with his body. They stare at each other, both breathing heavily with anger.

“You know”, Dean finally says, “You’re an idiot. You know I could never leave you. You’re all I have left. You’re the only thing keeping me sane.” Dean pauses for a moment before adding quietly, “I love you. More than anything in this world.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say. He’s still angry and this is too weird. Although Dean didn’t say much, Sam knows that he just revealed a little piece of his soul, and that doesn’t happen often with Dean Winchester, but Sam still needs more, he has to be sure.

“More than anything?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

“How?”

Sam lifts his eyes to Dean’s.

“How do you think?”

It takes a moment before Dean realizes what’s on Sam’s mind.

“Sam…”

“Yes Dean?”

“Sam, if you mean what I think you mean…that would be so wrong on so many levels I can’t even begin to count to but first of all, we’re brothers.”

“Yeah," Sam smiles arrogantly, “And that’s without a doubt the reason why you have laid on top of me for the last five minutes. While we’re naked… oh, you’re not, you still have your boxers on. Don’t worry, we can change that, I promise.”

Dean feels himself blushing, and he really isn’t the kinda guy who blushes easily.

“I was trying to get you warm.”

“Well, looks like it worked. I’m feeling pretty warm right now.”

Sam moves a bit.

“Ow, what’s that? Did you bring a gun under the blanket or are you just happy to see me, Dean?”

Dean feels himself blushing even more, and even more still when Sam continues. “Are you happy that I’m laying under you, helpless, submissive and… Oh, almost forgot. Naked.”

“Sam…”

“Don’t worry, big brother. I’ll make it easy for you. It all makes perfect sense now. Now I know why you were gonna leave me.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, unsure of wanting to hear the answer.

“You wanted to leave because you just can’t stand it that whenever you lay your eyes on me, all you wanna do is fuck me through the mattress.”

“Sam…” Dean growls, painfully aware of his aching erection pressing against his little brother’s groin.

“What’s the problem, big brother?” Sam asks sarcastically. “Why don’t you just do it? I won’t resist. I won't strugle. You can have me any way you want, the way you’ve had me in your dreams.”

“Shut up Sam!” Dean yells all the sudden. “Just shut the fuck up or I don’t guarantee….”

The words die in his throat when Sam starts moving under him, squirming and writhing and breathing the way that sounds like pure porn. Dean feels like he’s falling head over heels into destinations unknown.

“Like you wouldn’t want this…” Sam whispers at Dean’s ear and his breath is hot and moist. “I’m offering you what you’ve always wanted. You can do anything you want to me,” Sam pauses. “Anything, Dean.”

“That’s it,” Dean gasps angrily. “You asked for it. Remember that!”

Sam smiles, looking very pleased of himself, and that only makes Dean furious. He can’t hold himself back, not anymore. Sam is just begging for it, and in Dean’s emotional mixture of anger, guilt, and pure, red-hot lust the only thing he can think is to hurt Sam, make him regret that he ever brought it up to this. He grabs Sam by the jaw and looks into his eyes, gritting his teeth.

“You know what? You’re a bitch and that’s exactly how I’m gonna treat you.”

Sam is still smiling. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Oh, and I’m gonna wipe that arrogant smile right off of your face. You’re gonna scream for me.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see that happen. Big words, bro, no action. I’m starting to think that you don't have guts to do this at all.”

“Watch me”, Dean growls, quickly and roughly turning Sam around to his stomach.

“So, how would you like it? Maybe I’ll take you right now, totally unprepared. Its gonna hurt like hell.”

“Ain’t that exactly what you want to do? Hurt me? Come on, stop pretending. Right now the only thing you wanna do is hurt me! So do it!”

The last words come out as yelling. Dean can feel the fire burning in Sam, but he also knows deep inside that if he does this, there'll be no turning back and nothing’s gonna be like it used to be. He’s angry and frustrated and maybe even a little bit scared. God, Sam is right! Every time he looks at his little brother he just wants to fuck him senseless. So, no more pretending and denying, and besides, Sam clearly is begging for this.

The first thing Dean does is that he bites his little brother’s neck, hard enough to leave bruises. Sam lets out a muffled cry, a sound so sweet it makes Dean sigh out of pleasure. God, he has never considered himself as a sadist of any kind, but now he only wants Sam to make more those sexy agonized moans. He wants to make Sam scream and beg and plead, make Sam scream his name. Those thoughts turn Dean on so much it hurts, and he can’t help but wonder how sick he really is. Even sicker than he imagined? So fucking what. This is sick and wrong and immoral and blah-blah-blah, but who gives a damn?

It’s also very enjoyable.

Dean starts to bite down Sam’s shoulders and licks the taste of his skin. But there is something he wants even more, so he roughly turns Sam around again and pins him to the bed with his whole body-weight.

Without a warning he crashes his lips on Sam’s, hard and needy and violent. He can taste blood and the taste makes him moan. He devours Sam’s mouth with passion, swallowing down every whimper his baby brother makes. Finally he pulls away to catch his breath, but in a split second he’s all over Sam again.
He moves lower, licking and biting Sam’s nipples hard enough to make him jerk away. Dean smiles like a predator. A predator that has smelled blood.

“Are you trying to get away from me, Sam?” he murmurs from deep down his throat, “You know we can’t have that. You promised to let me do whatever I want to do to you. Don’t say you’re backing up now? I haven’t even started yet.”

Sam’s voice is thick and raw. “Then do your worst.…”

“Oh, I will.”

With those words he attacks Sam’s lips again and bites his lower lip until it bleeds. He licks the blood away and fucking purrs. Holy shit, that’s perverted even to Dean and he starts to wonder what the hell has gotten into him.

Oh, never-mind….

Dean lifts his head to look into his little brother’s eyes, wide open, pupils dilated.

“Are you scared yet, Sammy?”

“Of you? Never!” he tries to laugh but the laughter sticks to his throat.

“Fine. You will be,” he whispers huskily and returns to look into Sam’s eyes. They’re closed, and his breathing is light and fast.

Dean moves lower until he’s kneeling between Sam’s thighs. What he sees down there pleases him very much. He has never thought that another man’s cock could be fascinating, and no way in hell tempting, but Sam… hard, leaking…

Dean can’t help himself, he bends down and takes Sam’s throbbing member deep into his mouth. Sam sounds like all the air has just been kicked out of his lungs.

“Dean…” Sam tries to whisper but his throat feels like he has just swallowed shattered glass. Shitshitshitholyfuckingshit! Sam thinks, It wasn’t suppose to go like this. He was supposed to be the one to control the whole thing, but how the hell is he supposed to be in control when he can’t even think straight??

Dean’s mouth is doing things that should definitely be illegal, and that’s about all he can think of right now. It feels amazing.

For fuck’s sake, it’s his brother doing all those nasty things down there, but no way in hell Sam does Sam want to think about that disturbing fact right now, not while his brother’s (FUCK) mouth is all around him, lips (oh,Dean’s lips…) pressed tight around his cock, and his tongue… God, Dean’s tongue. Where has he learned how to use it like that?

Sam doesn’t know and maybe he doesn’t even want to, but he sure doesn’t want Dean to stop.

Dean has no intentions of stopping before he gets what he wants... Sam coming. Right after coming a man is most vulnerable, and Dean wants, needs to see Sam weak and helpless (that’s pretty much what Sam is now, but what the hell, this is nice).

The pressure on Sam’s balls is getting unbearable and he’s trembling so hard that for a second he’s afraid they'll both fall off the bed.

Dean holds his hips down firmly, taking Sam’s cock deeper and deeper down his throat, and Sam is whimpering like a little puppy, a sound so sweet Dean’s almost ready to blow his load to his boxers right then and there.

Then Sam stops breathing and freezes completely still, shooting strands of milky cum on Dean’s mouth, and Dean swallows it all.

Sam is spread wide open on the bed, desperately gasping for air. His whole body is limp.

Dean rises to lean to his elbows and watches Sam, whose face is flushed, eyes closed, mouth wet and red.

“Am I dead?” Sam whispers weakly and Dean grins wickedly.

“No, Sammy. You’re not dead, just easier to control now.”

“Easier to… oh.” Sam mutters in his post-orgasmic state. “Sure.”

Dean climbs on top of Sam and leans down to whisper in Sam’s ear, “Have you ever been fucked in the ass?”

“No,” Sam mutters, eyes still closed.

“Good,” Dean smiles predatorily, “Let’s pop the cherry then.…”

Sam doesn’t even hear what Dean is saying and doesn’t care when Dean takes his boxers off or when he reaches for a bottle of lube from the bedside table. He lets Dean spread the lube in his crack, it feels nice and cool. He keeps his eyes closed, enjoying his current state with a satisfied smile on his face. Then suddenly all that changes.

Dean pulls him close, grabs his legs and places them on his shoulders. Dean pushes his cock all the way inside Sam in one, deep thrust.

Sam’s eyes pop wide open, then he squeezes them tightly shut again and screams. Oh God! It feels like he’s going to be torn in half. He can’t move. He can’t breath. The pain in his ass is sharp and burning and no matter how he tries to fight back, the tears are crowding behind his eyes.

As Dean thrusts again, Sam’s eyes open again but he can’t see anything but dark red. Tears are falling down his face but he doesn’t realize it, and he’s shaking, almost hyperventilating.

Dean watches Sam and the naked fear on his face. Oh shit…

“Sam, breathe. Slowly. Breathe!”

Sam doesn’t hear anything except blood rushing in his ears.

“Sam? Sam!”

It’s like Sam wakes up from a trance. He stares at Dean with eyes so wide he looks like a scared rabbit. Dean is still hard inside him.

“Talk to me Sam.”

And Dean is expecting anything, anything else than what Sam whispers next. “You´re so big…”

Sam shuts his eyes again.

“Hurts, Dean… it hurts so bad…”

And Dean mentally smacks himself. He knows he should’ve prepared Sam properly, opened him up gently, but instead he drew himself in like a goddamn truck without speed limits.

“Okay, Sam, stay still. I’m pulling out now, and… I try my best not to hurt you anymore.”

God, what went into him? He just got blinded of his rage and frustration, and just a moment ago he really wanted to hurt Sam, hurt him so badly, but now… Now he just feels small and worthless and really, really low.

“Dean?”

“Hush, baby. It’ll be over in a second.”

“No”, Sam says with a muffled but determined voice, “It won’t be.”

“Wha..what??”

Sam lifts his dark, desperate eyes on Dean’s.

“Don’t stop.”

Dean has a lump on his throat as he sees all the emotions in his baby brother’s eyes.

“No," Dean whispers. “No, I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have and...“

“Please Dean!” Sam begs. “Don’t stop. Fuck me, hurt me! Please Dean. I need this! You couldn’t possibly understand. Please, just do this… for me. Please hurt me.”

“Sam, no…” Dean is on the edge of tears. “I don’t know what got into me, I really don’t, and I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. It’s the last thing I ever want to do.” He swallows hard. “I’d die for you, but please don’t ask me to do this.”

“I know you don’t wanna hurt me, and that’s exactly why I need you to,” Sam whispers softly. “If you really love me…”

Sam’s eyes are praying, and though Sam doesn’t believe Dean understands, he actually does. He knows why this is so important to Sam. It’s the ultimate proof of his love; If you really love me, you’ll do the thing you never ever want to do because I ask you to. It’s twisted and painful, but he really does understand.

“Sam,” Dean whispers against Sam’s mouth. “I love you.”

And with those words he thrusts inside Sam again, deep and hard, and when Sam screams he does it again and again until all he can hear is Sam crying. He holds back his own tears, and he bites Sam’s shoulder until it bleeds.

“Say that you love me,” Sam cries. “Say that again…”

“I love you.” Dean can’t help himself, he’s crying too. “I love you Sammy. I love you, I love you, I love you.…”

He keeps repeating it like a mantra as he fucks his little brother hard and rough, and when Sam wraps his legs around his hips, he crashes his lips on Sam’s and kisses him desperately.

Sam starts breathing heavier and faster, and when Dean looks at him Sam's looking back with eyes that say now I know...

You really love me.

Dean slows down his pace but doesn’t take his eyes off Sam’s.

“I love you,” Dean whispers one more time and Sam smiles through his tears.

“Then finish me up....”

They start moving together in a slow rhythm. It doesn’t take long before Sam’s eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth opens for a silent scream.

Dean can feel every muscle of his body tense before the pressure comes unbearable, and as he comes, he can feel Sam’s body writhe under him as his little brother becomes undone.

They lay on the bed, their bodies covered with sweat, tears, blood and cum. Their legs and arms are tangled together.

And from now on their souls, as well.

Fic: In the Darkness

Tue, 23 Oct 2007 14:04:12 GMT

Title: In the Darkness
Author: Jade
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Category: slash
Word Count: 4200
Spoilers: none
Summary: Sam is in denial, but not for long as Dean decides it is time to face the truth. Angst and shame lead to something way more deep...and hot.
Notes/Warnings: angst, incest, first time
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except that twisted imagination of mine.
Authors Note: My first fanfic ever. Feedback is love, what was good, what was bad? Make me better.

Sam closed his eyes and exhaled deep and slow. Another hunt was over and though some of them could've been almost described as 'easy', this one had been particularly hard.

Sam was exhausted.

The demon they had been hunting had the ability to turn people against each other, and though Sam would've eagerly wanted to forget, he just couldn't. All those things he and Dean had yelled to each other, all the anger, accusations, hate….

Sam wanted to believe that it had all been just a mind game the demon had played with them, but still, part of him couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't just the demon screwing up with their heads. There was more to it, and it scared him.

They had been on the road for over a year now, with practically no other company each other. It was no wonder if there were some suppressed feelings, things left unsaid, things they should've talked about ages ago instead of this constant arguing going on with the brothers day after day.

And hell, now Dean was gone.

As soon as they'd came back from the hunt (well at least they exorcised the demon), Dean had just taken a quick shower and left, probably into some random bar in this random town. After all this time, they all looked the same to Sam.

And now Sam was alone. Alone with his confusion, insecurity and guilt. Dean hadn't even talked to him as he left, not one single word, and that was breaking Sam's heart.

Sam lay down on his back on the cheap motel bed and started staring to the ceiling, memories of what happened before filling his mind…

"You don't care about me. You only drag me along with you 'cause you're so damn scared of being alone, and since you are incapable of developing a real relationship with anyone, you just settle with me", Sam had yelled. "I'm your little brother, so it's my responsibility to put up with all this shit you dump on me, and God help me if I ever complain, since I'm not a person to you. I'm just a fun little toy you can toss aside when you get bored, or find a nicer one!"

Dean's eye's were dark and furious, but he only answered with an icy silence.

"You don't care about me", Sam said again, his eyes full of despair and disappointment. "You're just using me."

Then Sam walked away, and he was so mad he had laid his guard down, and that almost cost him his life. The demon attacked him from behind and pushed him down on the ground so hard he felt all the air pushed out of his lungs.

But in a blink of an eye Dean was there, sending the evil sonofabitch back to hell where it belonged.
Sam's anger vanished the moment the demon was gone. He realized that Dean had saved his life, but when he turned around to thank his brother, Dean only gave him an empty look and turned around.

It was now Dean's turn to walk away.

A silent voice woke Sam up.

It was pitch dark, he couldn't see anything. His whole body tensed as he opened his eyes and lifted his head, enough to take a look around the room, but careful enough so the intruder wouldn't realize he was awake. It was a lost cause anyway, since he couldn't even see the outlines of the furniture in the room.

Sam quietly slid on the edge of the bed and reached out for his gun which was on the night-table next to bed. And although he was sure he didn't even make a sound, the intruder took Sam by surprise. He grabbed Sam by the shoulders, pushed him down to the bed, caught his hands above his head and squeezed his wrist until he couldn't keep his hold of the gun.

The intruder bent over Sam's face, and though Sam couldn't see anything, he already knew who the other man in the room with him was. Especially when he heard a husky whisper right by his left ear.

"Whoa, tiger. You actually thought of shooting me? That's not very nice, Sammy."

"Dean," Sam gasped. "Let go of me."

"And what if I don't?"

It was pitch dark but in his mind Sam could see this arrogant grin of his brother's that had almost become his trademark.

Sam sighed deeply.

"Then I guess I'll have to hurt you."

"Take your best shot", Dean smirked. "But I don't think it's gonna do you any good. So, wanna find out who's hurting who?"

Sam didn't answer, instead he took advantage of the element of surprise, pulled his wrists free, flipped Dean over and locked him down. Sam now lying on top of Dean.

"Well, well," Sam said. "Looks like the roles have turned once again."

"Don't be so sure about that," Dean murmured and started to struggle his way free, which wasn't easy, since his little brother was taller than him and somewhat pissed off as well. After a while they stopped, both gasping for air.

"Okay", Sam panted. "I just have to ask you something. Is this supposed to be you're way of telling that you're not angry with me anymore?"

"No", Dean answered, "I just thought it would be a perfect time for a payback."

Sam sounded bored. "And what kind of payback exactly did you have on your mind?"

"Oh", Dean whispered dangerously. "You don't really wanna know."

In a blink of an eye Sam found himself again being the one lying under his big brother. This time Dean pushed him down so hard he knew he wouldn't get free easily.

In the darkness Sam heard a clicking noise. Like…a belt buckle?

"What was that?"

The only answer Sam got was a leather belt wrapped around his wrists. Dean tied him tightly to the headboard of the bed, so tight that Sam couldn't even try to move his arms.

"Dean," Sam raised his voice. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

Silence.

"Dean? This ain't funny anymore."

More silence.

"Dean!"

Then he felt a warm breath on his ear and Dean whispered, "You know, it's a good thing you didn't sleep with your shirt on. Would've been hard to take it off now that you're tied up and everything."

Sam felt cold shivers running down his spine.

"What… Dean, are you drunk?"

"No."

"Then what the hell is wrong with you?"

Dean chuckled.

"Nothing. Life's peachy."

"Just what are you doing," Sam sighed, more than a little annoyed already. "Why am I tied up here and what the hell is going on in that twisted mind of yours?"

Dean thought for a while.

"Yeah. I suppose twisted is the right word, and like I said, Sammy, you don't really wanna know."

"Yes I do!"

"Fine," Dean decided, voice now low and dark. "I'm gonna show you just how much I care about you, or don't care. It's up to you how you wanna take it."

Sam was confused.

"You don't make any sense."

"You'll see."

All of a sudden Dean's hands slid down to Sam's jeans and unbuttoned them.

"Dean! What the hell are you doing?" Sam yelled, slight panic now rising inside him.

"I am gonna strip you naked," Dean answered with a tone that sounded like he really didn't care. "And then, well...I'll just make it up as I go along."

Sam's zipper went down. Dean tried to pull his jeans off but it seemed to be a harder job since his little brother was like glued to the mattress.

"Lift your hips."

"No."

"Lift. Your. Hips. Now."

Sam swallowed and obeyed. He had never heard his brother sound like that. Dominating, almost violent, at least not to Sam.

Dean pulled down his jeans and boxers at the same time, throwing them on the floor, leaving his baby brother naked under his eyes.

"You know what people say," Dean said quietly. "When you can't see, your other senses grow much more intense. Let's find out if it's true."

Then he pinched Sam's nipple, hard. Sam let out a muffled cry.

"Oh," Dean acted surprised. "Did that hurt? Guess it's true then. I have to be more gentle from now on, and oh, I should warn you. They also say that at the first time it hurts."

Sam froze.

"What hurts?"

"Think, Sam."

Sam started panicking for real.

"Oh my God, Dean. Just let me go, please! Please let me go! Just don't…."

"Don't what?" Dean asked. Sam didn't answer.

"Sam," Dean said, now with a warmer tone. "I'm not gonna rape you."

"Sweet Jesus," Sam gasped. "Rape me?!"

"No. Not until you beg me to. And technically, in that case it can't be considered as a rape anymore."

That was the moment Sam decided that either he was dreaming, hallucinating or finally losing his marbles. That gave him a little comfort so he calmed down a bit.

"And what makes you think I would beg anything from you?"

"Hmm…," Sam heard from the dark. "Let's see. One, do you really think I haven't noticed the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching? And two, don't you think it's about time we let all our suppressed emotions out at last?"

"That last sentence was way too deep from you, Dean. Now you're really starting to scare me."

"Shut up", Dean growled, and even if Sam would've wanted to say something, Dean made it pretty impossible by pressing his lips hard against his little brother's. Sam froze again. It was like an electrical shock running through his whole body.

Dean pulled away, breathing heavily. Then he slid his hand behind Sam's neck and bent down for another kiss, this time softer and deeper.

Sam couldn't help himself, he had this burning, aching feeling crawling down his body, starting from his lips and moving lower, to his neck, chest, stomach, and even lower, to his....

"Oh my God," Sam breathed against Dean's mouth and finally gave in. Their tongues tangled together and the soft kiss turned harder, almost violent, and Sam could feel his cock hardening, more and more by every move Dean's tongue made in his mouth,and Dean's hands…wandering on his skin, teasing, promising…

A desperate whine escaped Sam's lips. His abdomen was on fire, his cock nearly exploding….

Then Dean stopped, pulled away and there was only silence and darkness.

"Dean," Sam managed to whisper though his voice was thick and it was hard to get the words out. "Dean?"

"Payback, little brother," Sam heard from the dark. "You really think I don't care about you? Are you that stupid? And you also said that I'm only using you. Hell, right now I think I'd even be on the mood to really do it."

"Do what?"

"Use you. In all possible ways… but mostly physical."

Sam swallowed, hard this time.

"Dean, come here," Sam said. "Please."

"Oh," Sam could hear from Dean's voice that he had lifted his eyebrows. "What's this? My baby brother pleading? For what?"

"Come here."

"Why?"

Sam closed his eyes.

"I want you to kiss me again," he whispered, not believing those words actually coming out of his mouth.

"What? Sorry, I couldn't quite hear you. Come again?" Sam should've known nothing was ever easy with Dean.

"Dean," Sam pleaded. "Please, just… just…you can't leave me like this, not after what…. Oh my God…"

Dean had bent down and taken Sam's rock-hard member in his hand. He held it tenderly, not even moving his hand, but Sam still felt like he could cum any minute.

"You really think I didn't know, Sammy?" Dean asked softly. He paused for a moment and moved his hands on Sam's thighs, slowly petting them. "You want me."

Sam felt tears crowding behind his eyes and couldn't say a word.

"Yes, Sam. This is payback for all those times you didn't say anything, just kept bitching like you always do. I told you over and over again that you should get laid, that you were way too tense. And since you're not gonna do anything about it, I'll make it sure myself that from now on you will get your tension out."

A single tear fell down Sam's face, but he still kept quiet. He didn't want Dean to know that he was about to burst in tears, that right now it felt like his whole life was falling apart. Dean had discovered his secret, his dirty little secret. Hell, he most likely had known all along why Sam didn't want to get laid...that he did, but not just with anyone. No one else mattered except Dean, his big brother.

At that moment Sam was glad it was dark so that Dean couldn't see the blush of shame spreading on his cheeks and down his neck.

"I'm so fucked up," he whispered with a lump on his throat. "I'm sick."

"Well," Dean said. "We live a sick, fucked up life in a sick, fucked up world, so I would be quite amazed if either one of us grew up to be normal."

When Sam didn't answer, Dean continued. "Come on, Sam, cheer up, you're not alone in this. You're not the only one who has needs, desires.…"

"But it's wrong!" Sam protested. "You are my brother and doing… you know, anything, would be so wrong!"

Dean sighed and lay next to Sam's naked body.

"Does this feel wrong?" he asked and started kissing Sam's neck. "Or this?" He continued moving lower, tenderly kissing and licking Sam's nipples and bare chest. "Or this?" He laid his hand down on Sam's member, still hard even though Sam had tried with all his willpower to get it down.

"Does it?" Dean asked. Sam let his tears run down.

"No," he whispered,"and that's what scares me."

"Don't be sca…." Suddenly Dean stopped. "Sammy, are you crying?"

"Please, let me go," Sam wept quietly. "Just open the belt and let me go."

"I'm sorry", Dean said with a low, apologizing voice, "I'm so sorry…"

Dean untied Sam, and the moment Sam was free he was all over his brother.

"You asshole!" he yelled. "Why are you making me feel this way?!"

Dean held his brother close and still.

"I want to hate you," Sam cried and grabbed Dean like he was drowning, and Dean was the only thing keeping him above the surface.

"Then go ahead," Dean whispered. "Hate me. I'm not gonna apologize for my feelings for you, and I am not sorry about what I'm gonna do next."

"And what's that?" Sam wheezed.

Dean's hot breath caressed Sam's ear.

"I'm gonna fuck you."

They lay next to each other on the bed, Sam naked against Dean who was still fully clothed. How strange it felt… Sam could feel every little detail of Dean's clothing, the soft cotton of his shirt, rougher of the denim…like he had never felt before.

Dean was right. In the complete darkness his other senses grew so high even the still air felt like a caress on his skin. He could've swear he even heard Dean's heartbeat.

Moments passed. Finally Sam broke the silence.

"Take your clothes off," he said and started to peel off Dean's shirt, sliding his fingers to the bare skin that was revealed underneath. Dean pulled the shirt over his head and opened both the button and the zipper of his jeans. Sam helped him to get rid of them and his boxers as well. Then Sam lay down again and pulled Dean close, so close that they were face to face, chest to chest, skin to skin.

In the dark they listened to each other breathing, and even though they didn't move or even touch, other than where their bodies embraced, they both could feel the tension rising, their slow breathing becoming harder, faster….

"We're going to hell for this," Sam whispered, and his warm breath felt like heaven on Dean's skin.

"Probably," Dean answered, "but there would be nothing worth doing in the upstairs anyway, huh?"

"Guess not." Sam smiled and shivered when Dean laid his hand on his back, pulling him even closer so that he could now feel something getting harder on the downstairs of his brother, and that instantly aroused him, causing the same effect on himself.

They started touching each other, tension rising still, and they both knew it would lead to an explosion. Like it did.

Dean grabbed Sam from the neck and pulled him down to a wild, passionate kiss, and for a moment there were only lips, tongues and teeth and a desperate need for more, more, more….

Hands grabbing bare flesh, hips pushed together, both of them feeling like if they would get any more aroused, they would die of it.

Sam pulled Dean up so that they were both on their knees and took Dean's face between his hands. Dean did the same for Sam and they panted onto each others mouths. They kissed again, and this time it was pure tongue-fucking.

Dean growled as Sam grabbed his cock and started to slide his hand up and down the hard shaft. Sam let out a loud moan when Dean returned the favor with his hot, sweaty hands.

"Oh… God… oh, fuck," Sam moaned out loud. "I can't take this anymore. Dean, please…."

Dean pushed him down to the bed and lay on top of him, starting to kiss and bite Sam's neck, then shoulders, chest and nipples. Sam was panting erratically, he couldn't speak, not think, not move, just… feel. He felt it all... teeth, tongue, and sweaty skin against his own. Dean's cock pressed against his own, and then the words just got out.

"Fuck me, Dean."

Dean stopped.

"It's gonna hurt," he mumbled against Sam's stomach. "A lot."

"I don't care." Sam almost cried out the frustration of his unfulfilled needs. "I really don't care. I need you to fuck me right now or I swear I'm gonna die!"

Sam could sense a sudden change in Dean. He was now more calm and gentle than before, almost tender.

"Ok. Lift your hips."

Sam did that and Dean slipped a pillow under his hips, then spread his legs and knelt between them.

"Try to relax", he whispered. "It'll be easier if you relax your muscles."

Sam heard Dean taking something from beside the bed, and then he felt something cool and moist on his abdomen.

"Massage oil," Dean whispered as he started to spread the oil on Sam's abdomen and thighs, massaging them until he could feel Sam relaxing his muscles. Then he took some more oil and started spreading it to Sam's ass. He pressed the tender flesh around Sam's entrance, and Sam tensed for a while but relaxed eventually.
Before Sam could react Dean pushed his finger inside Sam, holding him down with his other hand. Sam whimpered.

"Shh…," Dean whispered. "Relax."

He moved his finger a bit, then pulled it out. He added more lube and pushed two fingers inside Sam who froze completely still.

"I know, I know…" Dean whispered soothingly. "Calm down. Breathe…."

He started moving his fingers, scissoring then a little to get Sam open and ready...well, as ready as he could be in this situation.

"See," Dean smiled when Sam started to adjust to his fingers. "Much easier when you relax."

"Mmmh…"

"Okay," Dean said and pulled his fingers out, caressing Sam's thighs on the way. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "I'm ready."

"You know, Sam, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I mean, we can...."

"Shut up already and do it!" Sam groaned.

Okay, Dean thought, that was a clear answer. He took the lube and put a lot of it in his hands. He coated his swollen cock with it and placed the tip of it on Sam's entrance with his hand. With his other hand he started jerking Sam's cock, strong and slow. Sam moaned out of pleasure and Dean decided now was the time Sam would be ready enough. He started pushing himself in, and Sam squirmed rapidly. Dean held his hips still and pushed all the way in, nailing Sam down.

"Oh sweet Mary the mother of…" Dean panted. "God, Sam! You're so tight."

"Move," Sam whispered hoarsely. "Fuck me."

Dean started moving with slow, deep thrusts, trying to be as gentle as he could for his baby brother as his ass was assaulted for the first time in his life. The word virgin popped into his mind and he bit his lip but couldn't help thrusting in a little harder. That only made Sam cry out of pleasure louder, and Dean swore he saw stars dancing in the dark.

"Fuck me," Sam cried. "Fuck me harder."

Dean couldn't help himself. He was sure he hurt Sam, but he still couldn't help it. He grabbed his brother's hips and started thrusting deep, hard, speeding his movement all the time. Sounds of flesh hitting flesh filled the room along with Dean's groaning and Sam's whimpering and fast panting.

Then Dean hit Sam's prostate and Sam screamed. He really screamed out loud.
"Dean, there," he panted. "Do that again."

Dean kept pushing harder inside Sam, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust, rolling his hips and it felt so fucking good he wanted to cry.

"From behind," he heard Sam panting. "Now, Dean, take me from behind."

He didn't need to be told twice. He pulled out and roughly turned Sam around, and without wasting any time pushed himself inside his little brother again, hard and deep. He collapsed on top of Sam and grabbed his hips, pushing inside him like in peril, panting, biting Sam's neck so hard he was sure he left bruises on his little brother's tender skin.

Sam couldn't breathe. His cock was so hard it hurt, and Dean's cock was buried deep inside him, abusing him the most sweetest way, digging in and letting loose emotions he never could've imagined to be true.

All of a sudden Dean pulled out again, but before Sam could protest, Dean pulled him up and pushed him on his knees against the wall. Then Dean thrust in him again, pinning him tightly against the wall, his other hand wrapped around Sam, finding his aching, leaking cock and jerking it hard, demandingly, leading him closer and closer to the edge.

"Sam," Dean moaned and bit his shoulder. "I can't hold it much longer…."

Pressure in Sam's balls was reaching the critical level and he knew he was gonna cum any second.
"Dean", he whimpered. "I'm gonna cum, I'm.…"

Sam screamed as Dean hit his prostate once again, driving him over the edge. His whole body trembled rapidly as he came so hard he saw white, and when Sam's tight hole squeezed so hard it almost hurt, Dean couldn't hold himself back.

He shot his load inside his little brother, groaning, hips jerking, mind going blank.
Sam felt his knees giving up under him and they both collapsed to the bed, sweaty and out of breath, satisfied to the last molecule of their bodies.

They held each other close, breathing heavily on each others mouths.

He pressed his lips against Sam's and they kissed passionately.

After a while Dean heard Sam's voice. "We are definitely going to hell for this." He smiled as Sam's voice continued, "And it was totally friggin' worth it."

He held his brother close, kissing his forehead gently and listening to the rhythm of his breathing. They fell asleep in the darkness, both smiling, knowing that whatever would come along the way, they would make it, because they had each other.

And that was all they needed to know.