let me hear your voice tonight (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alexseanchai) wrote2010-07-12 08:57 pm
alexseanchai) wrote2010-07-12 08:57 pm
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Title: Thread the Needle Through
Rating: R
Summary: It must have been a dream, because Sam isn't here. Written fordreamlittleyo for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sammessiah Antichristmas Exchange. Sorry it took so long, Yo! Thanks to somnolentblue for the beta.
Pairings: Sam/Dean, mention of Dean/Alastair, Dean/OMC, Dean/Lisa
Warnings: Mention of past non-con and torture.
Word Count: 900
There's a heart beating next to his and slow breaths next to his ear. There's leather underneath him and solid flesh on him and nothing cloth or weaponlike within reach except the door handle, and maybe the knife in the sheath sewn under the seat, but he probably can't get at it. They both smell of sweat, and when he takes a deep breath, there's murmuring and a large hand rubs across his burnt shoulder and hello morning wood. From both parties.
That's different.
Dean isn't as vehemently opposed to having gay sex as he pretends when Sam's listening or when someone thinks he's having gay sex with Sam. Real men don't enjoy getting fucked up the ass, is all. So he's only had gay sex while Sam was at Stanford and John was on another hunt, while Sam and Dean were separated so they could get their respective heads on straight, and while Dean was in hell (but in hell 'rack' doesn't exactly stand for 'risk-aware consensual kink', so that doesn't count). Unless Dean's counting the blowjob he gave that guy with longish brown hair in the bar a few weeks ago, but he's not for the same reason he's not counting going down on Lisa: oral sex only counts as sex if both parties are getting off on it, and lately Dean's only been able to get it up when he's thinking of Sam.
Whoever this is, he's tall and built, so it makes perfect sense that his id's thinking Sam. Probably why Dean picked him up in the first place. Dean must have gone to a bar instead of a liquor store when he left Lisa's, and he's probably still in the bar parking lot.
That makes more sense than Dean's memories do, because Dean remembers seeing Sam on the side of the road, remembers getting out and pouring salt and holy water over Sam's hand, slicing the inside of Sam's elbow to ribbons with silver and iron and brass and dabbing holy oil on him and lighting it. Remembers splashing the cuts with whiskey and rubbing aloe goo over the burn and wrapping it all in a bandage, grabbing Sam's other arm and pulling him up into a hug. Remembers Sam toppling into the car and landing on Dean, apologizing, and going back to the steady stream of "missed you so much, Dean" and "couldn't see or hear or feel, fuck, Dean" and "so fucking crazy, Dean, you don't even know".
Remembers shoving his hands under Sam's shirt, because after months alone having anything separating them was much too much. Remembers Sam grinning and getting them naked apparently with the power of his mind because there sure as fuck weren't any hands involved; that'd mean they'd let go. Remembers rolling his hips to get enough friction to get them both off because anything else would mean letting space between them.
So basically a long involved fantasy that Dean's let overwrite the actual memory of whatever happened with whoever he picked up last night.
"Nah, that's about how I remember it," an impossible voice says in Dean's ear.
Dean's auditory and kinesthetic senses are very well tuned, and he was definitely not saying anything aloud. Which narrows the options to 'illusion' (and if so it's a convincingly solid one) and 'mindreading freak', and of the latter category, the likeliest are demon and angel.
Dean shoves Lucifer off into the gear shift and yanks the knife out from under the seat.
"I thought we settled this last night," Lucifer says, rearranging himself so he's sitting shotgun with Dean's feet on his lap and Dean's knife at his throat, and the bandage on his arm unwinds itself. The cuts and the burn are more healed than they should be after a single night, but they're visibly there. The burn in particular is no more vicious than an ordinary burn would be after a couple days' healing, and it was holy oil and Lucifer's an angel, so—
The knife slips from his fingers and halts midair, then scoots back under the seat.
Dean hesitates a moment, because it's one thing to fuck his brother when neither of them has a coherent thought in his head but kissing him is something else entirely, especially when Sam's—and whatever that thought was it goes right out of his head when Sam yanks him onto his lap and starts kissing him like there's no tomorrow.
Angel powers, Sam murmurs, his tongue tangling with Dean's. Stole Lucifer's grace on the way out. Michael's too. You want it, or should I toss it in the Gulf and hope it plugs the leak?
"You're thinking too loud," Dean breaks away to say, and doesn't bother wondering about any of the questions that raises. Plenty of time later, if he's really here to stay. "I must not be doing this right."
"Why are you talking," Sam groans, and pulls Dean back in.
If this turns out to be just an elaborate sex fantasy, especially if it involves somebody who looks like Sam but isn't, Dean will be pissed.
Sam laughs in Dean's head. You haven't fucked anybody since Anna, he points out. Unless we're counting Lisa or that guy in the bar, and I'm not because you already knew Lisa and you picked a guy who looked like me. Random hookups just aren't your style anymore. Which is good. I'd hate having to share you.
Love you too, Sammy, Dean thinks, and feels Sam grin.
Rating: R
Summary: It must have been a dream, because Sam isn't here. Written for
dreamlittleyo for the sammessiah Antichristmas Exchange. Sorry it took so long, Yo! Thanks to somnolentblue for the beta.Pairings: Sam/Dean, mention of Dean/Alastair, Dean/OMC, Dean/Lisa
Warnings: Mention of past non-con and torture.
Word Count: 900
There's a heart beating next to his and slow breaths next to his ear. There's leather underneath him and solid flesh on him and nothing cloth or weaponlike within reach except the door handle, and maybe the knife in the sheath sewn under the seat, but he probably can't get at it. They both smell of sweat, and when he takes a deep breath, there's murmuring and a large hand rubs across his burnt shoulder and hello morning wood. From both parties.
That's different.
Dean isn't as vehemently opposed to having gay sex as he pretends when Sam's listening or when someone thinks he's having gay sex with Sam. Real men don't enjoy getting fucked up the ass, is all. So he's only had gay sex while Sam was at Stanford and John was on another hunt, while Sam and Dean were separated so they could get their respective heads on straight, and while Dean was in hell (but in hell 'rack' doesn't exactly stand for 'risk-aware consensual kink', so that doesn't count). Unless Dean's counting the blowjob he gave that guy with longish brown hair in the bar a few weeks ago, but he's not for the same reason he's not counting going down on Lisa: oral sex only counts as sex if both parties are getting off on it, and lately Dean's only been able to get it up when he's thinking of Sam.
Whoever this is, he's tall and built, so it makes perfect sense that his id's thinking Sam. Probably why Dean picked him up in the first place. Dean must have gone to a bar instead of a liquor store when he left Lisa's, and he's probably still in the bar parking lot.
That makes more sense than Dean's memories do, because Dean remembers seeing Sam on the side of the road, remembers getting out and pouring salt and holy water over Sam's hand, slicing the inside of Sam's elbow to ribbons with silver and iron and brass and dabbing holy oil on him and lighting it. Remembers splashing the cuts with whiskey and rubbing aloe goo over the burn and wrapping it all in a bandage, grabbing Sam's other arm and pulling him up into a hug. Remembers Sam toppling into the car and landing on Dean, apologizing, and going back to the steady stream of "missed you so much, Dean" and "couldn't see or hear or feel, fuck, Dean" and "so fucking crazy, Dean, you don't even know".
Remembers shoving his hands under Sam's shirt, because after months alone having anything separating them was much too much. Remembers Sam grinning and getting them naked apparently with the power of his mind because there sure as fuck weren't any hands involved; that'd mean they'd let go. Remembers rolling his hips to get enough friction to get them both off because anything else would mean letting space between them.
So basically a long involved fantasy that Dean's let overwrite the actual memory of whatever happened with whoever he picked up last night.
"Nah, that's about how I remember it," an impossible voice says in Dean's ear.
Dean's auditory and kinesthetic senses are very well tuned, and he was definitely not saying anything aloud. Which narrows the options to 'illusion' (and if so it's a convincingly solid one) and 'mindreading freak', and of the latter category, the likeliest are demon and angel.
Dean shoves Lucifer off into the gear shift and yanks the knife out from under the seat.
"I thought we settled this last night," Lucifer says, rearranging himself so he's sitting shotgun with Dean's feet on his lap and Dean's knife at his throat, and the bandage on his arm unwinds itself. The cuts and the burn are more healed than they should be after a single night, but they're visibly there. The burn in particular is no more vicious than an ordinary burn would be after a couple days' healing, and it was holy oil and Lucifer's an angel, so—
The knife slips from his fingers and halts midair, then scoots back under the seat.
Dean hesitates a moment, because it's one thing to fuck his brother when neither of them has a coherent thought in his head but kissing him is something else entirely, especially when Sam's—and whatever that thought was it goes right out of his head when Sam yanks him onto his lap and starts kissing him like there's no tomorrow.
Angel powers, Sam murmurs, his tongue tangling with Dean's. Stole Lucifer's grace on the way out. Michael's too. You want it, or should I toss it in the Gulf and hope it plugs the leak?
"You're thinking too loud," Dean breaks away to say, and doesn't bother wondering about any of the questions that raises. Plenty of time later, if he's really here to stay. "I must not be doing this right."
"Why are you talking," Sam groans, and pulls Dean back in.
If this turns out to be just an elaborate sex fantasy, especially if it involves somebody who looks like Sam but isn't, Dean will be pissed.
Sam laughs in Dean's head. You haven't fucked anybody since Anna, he points out. Unless we're counting Lisa or that guy in the bar, and I'm not because you already knew Lisa and you picked a guy who looked like me. Random hookups just aren't your style anymore. Which is good. I'd hate having to share you.
Love you too, Sammy, Dean thinks, and feels Sam grin.
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That makes a whole lot of sense, actually! I love his assumption that he's got some serious and involved delusional fantasy going on involving Sam.
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Glad you enjoyed!
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