dime_liora | The Time For Orchard Robbing

Title: Time For Orchard Robbing
Wordcount: 5.579
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Warning(s): Weecest (Sam is 15), Attempted Non-Con, Dark!Dean
Beta(s):

sammichgirl, Sammichgirl, With Hair Like Sunshine
Notes: You needs to hear this, because I blame this entirely: Lindsey Stirling "Crystallize"
Summary: Sam Winchester chooses his friends wisely.

We, the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.

Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen, be your apples.

When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time for orchard-robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling,
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
-Leigh Hunt “Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard”

Sam is six the first time he meets Dean. He remembers how amazing it was to look up into the sun and see the older man standing over him.

He’s had a problem at his last two homes with bullies. He and dad move a lot, and because of that Sam is always the new kid, always a little strange, and it seems like he keeps running into boys that find that offensive enough they need to tell him about it. This time the telling takes the form of them pushing him down and then kicking dirt on him.

Except suddenly the dirt, and the taunts accompanying it, are gone and all that’s left is silence. Sam opens his eyes to see a distinct lack of sneakers and in their place is a pair of boots. His eyes travel up the boots to a set of bow-legs in soft-looking denim, a heavy belt, and then a t-shirt right underneath a shadowed face. The sun is behind the man’s head, and it reflects off his hair and creates a halo as Sam squints into it.

“Thank you.” He knows that this man has saved him, and that deserves a thank you and more, but it’s the best Sam can offer. The older boys took his favorite action figure.

The man crouches down then and Sam can see him better. He looks familiar, but Sam can’t place him. A teenager, not a man, with a well-structured face and pink lips that get licked as the boy studies him. His eyes are hidden behind giant sunglasses, and Sam wonders what they look like and what the expression in them is.

“You ok kiddo?” The guy’s face tilts as he leans in, closer than Sam is used to, and yet there’s a familiarity to the question and the gesture. It leaves Sam relaxed, the idea of stranger danger far from his mind.

“Yeah. You saved me.”

The teen offers a smile at that so big and bright that Sam wants to hug it. He smiles back, and wraps his arms around the older boy’s neck because that’s what it feels like he should do.

---

The second time they meet is a few weeks later when Sam is outside playing by the creek in the backyard. This time the older boy tells Sam his name, and sits in the shade of the big tree while he watches Sam construct buildings out of sticks.

“Shouldn’t you be in school Sammy?”

Sam looks up from his leaning house and squints at Dean. “Nope. Daddy says I can’t ‘cause we move too much. He’s teaching me.”

Dean’s eyebrow lifts above the top edge of his sunglasses as his fingers fiddle with a leaf.

“So it’s just you and your dad?”

He nods and lays the last stick down as a roof. “Sometimes we see Daddy’s friends, but I’m not supposed to talk to them. Sometimes they’re scary.” He thinks of Uncle Jerry and shivers before crossing the dirt to sit next to Dean. Dean is cold, and Sam rubs at his hands briskly.

“What kind of scary?”

Sam doesn’t know the words to explain what it is about Jerry that he doesn’t like, so he shrugs and studies the lines in Dean’s palm. “I’ve never had a friend before.”

Dean gives him that smile again.

---

They move again when Sam turns seven, and Dean moves with them. His friend tells him that he was headed that way anyway, and Sam doesn’t ask questions. Instead he’s just pleased that he still has someone to talk to. They spend their days together like that often, Dean sitting in the shade and asking Sam about his life.

Sometimes Dean tells him about himself. Dean is eighteen, old, and he likes a lot of the stuff Daddy likes. He especially likes Sam, and he listens to all of Sam’s stories with great care and attention. No one has ever listened to Sam’s stories before.

One day they’re out and Dean looks tired, so Sam leans against him under the tree and lets Dean settle the heavy weight of his arm over Sam’s little shoulders.

“My Daddy says my mom and my brother died in an accident and that’s why I gotta stay close and be good.”

Dean shifts a little and his sunglasses fall down enough that Sam can see green and gold eyes looking at him. Like everything about Dean they seem familiar.

“An accident?”

“Yup. It used to make me sad, but now I’m happy.”

The eyes get a little dark, and the eyebrow lifts again. “Why?”

“Because I have you.”

For a moment Sam thinks he’s said the wrong thing. Dean’s face trembles a little, and then he places his lips against Sam’s in a little kiss. It’s short, and sweet, and Sam likes it a lot.

“You’re awesome Sammy.”

Sam can’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

---

Dean doesn’t have any family. He says that his mom died when he was young and his dad didn’t love him enough. Sam hugs Dean the whole time he talks about it. Dean had a little brother too, and he says his dad stole his little brother away. Sam tries very hard not to let Dean know that Sam doesn’t want Dean to find his little brother, because then he won’t need Sam.

Three days after his eighth birthday Dad announces they’re going to stay with Uncle Jerry, and Sam tries to talk him out of it. He cries and he argues, but Dad tells him he needs to be a man and handle it. Sam doesn’t want to handle it, but something about not being a man makes him uncomfortable. What would Dean think if he could see Sam crying like a baby?

He meets up with Dean the day before they’re leaving and tells his friend about the move, but not about his fears. Dean seems to pick up on them though, and when Sam won’t tell him anything other than not wanting to lose Dean those arms he’s come to know so well wrap tightly around him.

“You’re never losing me again baby boy. I promise you that.”

Uncle Jerry’s house smells bad, and it’s old and drafty. Sam doesn’t sleep well when they’re there because the shadows shift dangerously and the room is too big for him to be comfortable. He prefers the little motel rooms where Dad is in the bed next to him if he needs him, or the run-down houses where Dad is just a room away.

Sam doesn’t mean to pout, but he does and Dad sends him to bed early. Which is when Uncle Jerry comes to talk to him.

He hates talking to Uncle Jerry. The older man asks him questions about his friends, Sam doesn’t tell him about Dean, about his play time, and about how his “little body is developing”.

Uncle Jerry is always interested in Sam’s growth for some reason. He always wants Sam to take his shirt off and show him if his chest is getting broader or if the baby fat is gone. His big, callused hands stroke Sam’s skin softly and tonight he pinches one of Sam’s nipples. When Sam cries his uncle makes him sit in his lap and be soothed. Sam doesn’t want it, doesn’t like sitting in anyone’s lap but Dad or Dean, but he doesn’t argue.

Tonight Uncle Jerry does that thing where he breathes heavy in Sam’s ear and tells him how pretty he is, and how much he loves him. When it’s over and Sam’s left with a wet bottom and sore ribs he curls up under his blanket and wishes with all his might that Dean was there.

---

They’ve been at Uncle Jerry’s for two weeks and Dean has started to ask Sam what’s wrong a lot. Sam doesn’t know how to tell him without sounding stupid, because Daddy and Dean hug Sam and let him sit on his lap, and that never bothers him.

He shakes his head and avoids Dean’s eyes carefully. “Nothing Dean. I’m fine. Can we play cops and robbers again?”

Dean is the best hider. Sam can spend hours trying to find his friend, and every time Dean pops out of the shadows of a tree or a building Sam swears he wasn’t there before. Dean never laughs at him for not being able to find him though. His friend is always genuinely pleased that Sam looked for him.

When the game is over Sam curls into Dean’s chest and takes a deep breath. He needs to know something, and Dean is the only one he trusts to ask.

“Dean?”

“Yeah Sammy?” One big hand cradles Sam’s head and strokes his hair. It’s soothing, and Sam is so sleepy. Every night he’s been sitting up and waiting for the moment Uncle Jerry comes in. This is the first time since they got here that he’s been comfortable enough to sleep.

His eyes are so heavy, and Dean is so comfortable. “What’s-“ Sam breaks off on a yawn and settles his face into Dean’s chest. “Never mind.”

He’ll ask Dean another time what making love means. Uncle Jerry doesn’t seem to be in a hurry for it, so there’s time.

---

It’s the first night Uncle Jerry has taken his pajama bottoms off too, and Sam doesn’t like it. He wriggles on Uncle Jerry’s lap and argues softly. Uncle Jerry tells him he’s being bad and he needs to stop it. When a finger strokes his groin Sam reacts badly. His head snaps back and hits Uncle Jerry’s nose and the resulting crunch and muffled cursing gives Sam time to run for the window and dive out of it.

He runs across the grass as fast his feet can take him. The moonlight gives him enough illumination to make it to the orchard he always meets Dean in, and he knows his friend won’t be there but he needs to be close to his memory of Dean right now.

The tree Dean prefers looms above him, and Sam trips and slams into it. His head is bleeding, and he feels sick and wrong. Dinner comes up in a rush, and Sam realizes too late that he didn’t get his pajamas and he’s cold.

Except then he’s not, because arms pull him up and he’s encased in Dean’s jacket and close to his body.

“Sammy, Sammy what happened? Why are you out here naked? Baby, you’re bleeding.”

It comes out in a rush. Sam tells Dean how Uncle Jerry always checks his growth, how he leaves Sam scared and wet, and how he was going to make love to Sam tonight.

“But I didn’t want it Dean. I don’t love Uncle Jerry. I only love you and Dad.”

There’s something wrong with Dean’s arms. They go dark, the skin swirling with blackness and radiating cold, and then the flesh color returns before Sam can get too scared, and Dean’s lips press against the top of his head.

“Sammy, you’re gonna come live with me now kiddo. I can’t trust Dad to keep you safe.”

Sam looks up to see that in the moonlight Dean’s eyes are an electric green. He should be scared, something is wrong here, but it’s Dean.

“Can we have a dog?”

---

Dean gets Sam’s things from Uncle Jerry’s house. When he comes back he smells like pennies, and his face is dark for a brief moment before his eyes settle on Sam and lighten.

He tells Sam that Dad said it was best if Sam lives with him, and that Sam can visit Dad later. Sam’s ok with that.

His friend lifts him up easily, and they step into a shadow and come out into an open space full of moonlight, a shoreline with an ocean gently crashing into it. There are fireflies everywhere and the night here is warm instead of cold like at Uncle Jerry’s. Dean’s house is set into a hill, and Sam thinks it looks just like he imagined Bilbo Baggins’ would except bigger.

Everything here is magical. Dean offers him food, and Sam eats fruit and cheese to his heart’s content before Dean takes him to a room with a giant bed. He settles Sam into it, but Sam doesn’t want to sleep alone.

Dean stays curled around him all night.

---

The place has a funny name that Sam has to repeat ten times before he gets it right. Tir na Nog is full of people, all of them odd and interesting. Some of them are small, very small, and full of light and mischief. Some of them stay in the shadows like Dean and they study Sam curiously. He’s called Little Prince on a regular basis, and every time Dean smiles warmly and strokes his hair or nods.

Sam asks questions, a thousand questions, and Dean answers all of them seriously and easily. Dean says that this is a magical place, and that Sam is even more special than he was before he came. That no one will hurt him here because he’s royalty. Dean says this is the land of youth, and Sam thinks that’s weird because Dean’s closest neighbor is a wrinkled old man with fingers as long as Sam’s forearms.

At first people like Kheelan scared him, but the little man made him a watch that tells the time of the stones. When Sam asked what kind of time stones experience Kheelan simply responded, “Slow.”

He likes the people of Tir na Nog, and he likes spending time with Dean. They travel all over the island and see the mountains and valleys that scatter over its surfaces. They swim in the ocean together, and Dean stays close to make sure that Sam never gets in over his head and that the ladies and ponies that frolic in the water show the proper respect.

Some nights Sam is scared, because Dean leaves when he thinks Sam is sleeping and being alone in the house is a different matter. It’s still cozy, still familiar, but the wind outside can sound like wails and the black horses that thunder over the ground have glowing red eyes. When Dean comes home Sam is extra clingy, and Dean never seems to mind.

No one makes fun of Sam for his questions, and they insist that he’s perfect just the way he is. Even as he grows taller and stronger Sam still sees everything from the same sense of wonder he did when he first arrived here. It makes him special in a way he doesn’t understand, and he’s not sad that he missed out on all the lessons in math and literature because every week they have a bonfire and Sam learns more about the world than he ever imagined.

There’s a special set of visitors they get that Dean says are called Eshu, and Sam loves them most of all. They come when the moons are full and the fires are especially bright, and he’s never seen one of their faces, but underneath their robes they have the deepest and best voices, and every time they tell a story it comes to life.

Sam is fifteen the night Moab tells the story of the Sultan and the Djinn, and he laughs at the smile on Dean’s face as the illusion of the Sultan takes his hand and dances with him in the firelight. When the image releases his hand Dean takes it, and suddenly Sam is swept up into his friend’s cold comfort as they spin and twirl around the fire.

Tonight he’s going to finally ask Dean about the second thing they call him, the one that doesn’t mean prince, but only when they’re alone. There’s a tone to it that Sam thinks means private and secret.

When the fire has burned down and they’re curled up in bed Sam finally gets up the courage to voice his question, and Dean’s body goes tight around him.

“What’s a consort?”

Lips press against his hair, and Dean’s hand settles in its favorite place over Sam’s heart.

“Why do you ask Sammy?”

He thinks about the way the Fairest said it, her head tilted back and her pretty lips curled upwards. How her eyes slipped over Sam the way Uncle Jerry’s used to before she turned back to her companion.

“Someone said it about someone else. What’s a consort Dean?”

His friend shakes his head and turns Sam around so that the glowing green of Dean’s eyes are inches from his face. Carefully and slowly Dean kisses him, tongue sweeping briefly across his lips and fingers stroking his cheekbone.

“Nothing baby. Anyone says that to you again you just tell me ok?”

Sam nods, but he’s not sure he will. He remembers the smell of copper, the black that laced Dean’s skin, and he’s pretty sure it’s not a good idea to tell Dean these things.

“Hey Dean?”

Dean doesn’t want Sam to be his consort, or he doesn’t want Sam to know he’s his consort, but Sam can sense that either way Dean’s sad about it. He wants to give him something else if Dean can’t have that.

“Yeah Sammy?”

“You’re the brother I always wanted.”

Arms tighten around him so firmly that Sam’s breath is temporarily stolen.

---

It’s an accident really. Sam means to hug Dean goodbye, but Dean is already leaving when he does it. As a consequence he ends up traveling through the shadows with Dean.

His friend looks distressed, but Dean is losing his color the way he always does before he travels and he seems desperate for something. Dean puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders and looks around the bustling street they’re standing in.

“Stay right here in this coffee shop, ok Sammy? Just stay right here, and I’ll be right back.”

Sam nods seriously, but he’s always wondered what Dean does on these trips that make him look better, healthier when he returns. So Sam follows Dean down the streets, sliding along the shadowed walls the way his friend always does, and watches when Dean goes into the bar. He’s too young to follow, knows that he could never lie about it because he’s all awkward limbs and his narrow lines.

Instead Sam watches Dean stumble out of the bar with a man, skinny and smaller than Dean, and watches as his friend presses the man against the wall. Dean’s fingers stroke along the man’s skin the way he always touches Sam, and the man’s eyes close as his mouth falls open.

Then Dean leans in, places his lips against the man’s mouth, and they’re kissing. Really kissing, the way the Fairest do sometimes on festival nights in the Spring. Dean’s hands slide down along the man’s sides, stroke his ribs, and lock onto his hips. They stay that way for a while, entwined, and then Dean pulls back and the man is crying. His face is pale and ashen, but Dean has color again and a smile on his face.

The smile dies when he turns and sees Sam, and for the first time in ever Sam is afraid of Dean. Really afraid of him. Which is silly, because it’s Dean and Dean is his best friend, his brother, his everything. Dean saved his life, and Sam loves Dean more than the unicorns or the big hounds that let Sam ride them.

When Dean approaches Sam is torn, because a part of him wants to run but Dean already looks like Sam has hurt him somehow. Instead Sam stumbles forward into the street, and hears the car horn at the last second.

Dean is there instantly, arms around Sam, and they tumble through the darkness into their home. Big hands travel over his face, along his sides, and Sam remembers the way the man at the bar cried after Dean touched him like that. It doesn’t make Sam want to cry, but it does make him hungry for something he doesn’t understand and can’t name.

“Are you alright? Did it hit you? You gotta talk to me baby boy. Please talk to me.”

Sam takes a breath, and then he starts to cry in earnest.

“Dean you scared me. You scared me.” Dean was hurting that man. Somehow, in a way Sam doesn’t know, Dean was hurting that man. More importantly something in Sam hurt to see Dean kissing him the way he doesn’t kiss Sam.

The hands stutter on his skin, flicker black and flesh colored, and Dean pulls back slowly and closes his iridescent eyes.

“Sorry Sammy. I’m so sorry.” Cold lips press hesitantly against his forehead before Dean pulls away and leaves Sam alone in the grass in front of the house.

---

Kheelan is the only person on the island who will talk to Sam about where Dean is. Arvin and Lily bring him food and check on him, but when he asks about his friend they shake their heads sadly and pet his hair.

Sam visits the watchmaker every day, and Kheelan mumbles and grumbles as his long fingers place delicate gears and springs into place.

“Where’s Dean? Is he mad at me? Will you tell him I’m really, really sorry and I love him and I want him-“

“Shhh Little Prince.” Kheelan is there then, bony fingers flicking Sam’s tears away and straightening his hair. “Shush now. No place for tears.”

“I just want him to forgive me.” Sam knows he’s being a baby. That at fifteen he should be old enough to not cry at his friend leaving, but it hurts and Sam’s never been asked to grow up. They liked him not growing up. Has Dean changed his mind? Does he prefer grown-ups now?

“Your brother is being stupid. Very stupid. Once the Darkling Prince figures things out he’ll be back here asking you for forgiveness. ‘Til that happens you just have to wait patiently and know it’ll be alright.”

He wants to ask Kheelan about the man outside of the bar, why Dean won’t kiss him like that, and why Dean left. Instead he goes back to the house and sits in the den with the roaring fireplace.

Dean is gone another three days, and when he comes back he looks wild around the edges like the Beasts do, and his face is lined with black. His friend avoids his eyes for a moment, hands rubbing at his face as he considers Sam sitting on the floor.

“Sam I – look kiddo I just needed-“

Suddenly Sam is angry, very angry, and he swallows down all his pleading and stands with his fists clenched at his sides.

“You said I’d never lose you again.”

Dean’s face spasms, grief evident and clearing the wild look straight away, and then he nods sadly.

“I know Sammy. I’m sorry.”

“I wanna see Dad.”

It’s out before he can stop it, and the darkness that swirls around Dean is both frightening and intriguing.

“Never.”

----

The silence is entirely Sam now. Dean brings him the best fruits, flowers that only grow from specific types of tears, dragon’s scales and phoenix feathers, but Sam keeps his silence.

At this point he’s not sure if he’s angrier that Dean told him he couldn’t see Dad, that Dean left him, or that Dean chose that dirty man in the bar over Sam. He’s the Little Prince, and Dean’s consort whatever that means, and he doesn’t want Dean kissing other people. They’re supposed to be each other’s everything.

Dean pleads, he argues, and at one point he sucks all the light from the room and leaves the only illumination his eyes as he talks in a voice that sounds like death and fear. Sam is unimpressed. His temporary fear of Dean is gone, and in its place is a sense of understanding.

His friend needs something, something from normal people like Sam, and he won’t take it from Sam. He won’t even ask for it.

Sam has been given a home, love, friends and family, and in return he can give Dean nothing. That bites at him. It makes him angry and sad. He wants to give Dean anything he needs.

The hardest part is the nights. Sam turns away from Dean, won’t cuddle into him anymore, and so Dean sits on the floor across the room and watches Sam. He can fall asleep with Dean nearby, but he wakes from nightmares of a room splashed with blood and bits that look like Uncle Jerry screaming almost every night.

The third night it happens Dean kills one of the dark horses, or Sam thinks that’s what happens, because they don’t come around anymore. The fear, the memory of the dreams, sticks with Sam though. He wants Dean because that’s safety, but he can’t give into it until Dean tells him how he can be helpful.

Finally Dean gives up. He goes to his knees beside the bed and holds his hands out in supplication.

“Please Sammy I’ll do anything, but you can’t make me watch you suffer anymore. Please baby, just let me make it better.”

Sam considers holding out a little more, but his anger is diminished by the honest pleading in Dean’s eyes.

“Will you be honest with me and answer questions? All of my questions?”

Dean swallows thickly and then nods. His friend reaches out, lays his hand on the covers, and Sam takes it to show that he’s serious about letting Dean help him.

“Why did you kiss that man?”

There’s a brief flash of surprise before Dean looks around the room nervously.

“That wasn’t – you weren’t supposed to see that Sammy. Sometimes people like me get hungry. That man had what I needed, and that’s how I take it.”

Sam considers that and then pulls on Dean’s hand so the older boy climbs into the bed with him.

“Can you take it from me?”

Dean’s skin goes black and pale, and then swirls colors as the boy locks his gaze with Sam’s and shakes his head.

“I will never take that from you. Ever. Don’t ask that of me Sammy.”

There’s something there, connected to the understanding that Dean was hurting that man, but Sam lets it go.

“Can you get it a different way from kissing?”

Dean wrinkles his forehead, face scrunched up in confusion. It makes him more like Sam, puts Sam at ease on a basic level.

“Yes. Why?”

For the first time Sam presses his lips against Dean’s. He lets his tongue slip against Dean’s lips the way his friend so often does. Dean gasps at the contact and Sam’s tongue accidentally slides past Dean’s lips and into his mouth. The taste is amazing, cold and sweet like the water from the highest mountain streams, and Sam laps at it hungrily.

This is what he’s been missing. This sort of kissing is what he’s been hungry for when it came to Dean. He uses his hands to keep the older boy close as he licks deeper and harder. Sam is out of breath by the time Dean’s hands slide into his hair as Dean deepens the kiss.

He’s hungrier than before, heat and need rising up in him as he goes painfully hard and scrabbles at Dean’s clothes to find purchase. His hips move experimentally, and when his dick rubs just right against Dean’s thigh Sam hears a strange noise escape him that Dean echoes before he’s jerking and shaking, the world going white and hot.

Afterwards he’s boneless, curled into Dean’s arms, and everything feels good and right. Sam realizes he never answered Dean’s question.

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you kissing someone else.”

----

One of the Morrigan tells Sam what a consort is. In great detail.

When Dean gets home with meat for dinner Sam is standing in the living room, face set to permanent blush, and without his clothes. He finally gets what Uncle Jerry wanted, and understands that this is wildly different. That Uncle Jerry seriously misappropriated the term.

Dean stares at him for a long time, eyes flashing black and green while his skin follows a similar pattern, and then Dean puts the venison down very carefully and plucks a blanket up as he crosses the room. He settles it around Sam’s shoulders and very firmly says, “No.”

Sam can feel the blush getting worse, and he grabs at Dean’s shirt before his friend can escape him.

“Why not?”

“You’re – Sam you’re a fucking innocent. You’re pure. You don’t really get how much that matters, but believe me kiddo it matters. I touch you one more time like that and I won’t stop myself again. You can’t be tempting me like this.”

And maybe it’s that Sam hasn’t wanted for anything since Dean stole him away that night, hasn’t needed to remember what it’s like to go hungry or to be desperate, but Sam doesn’t take no for an answer. He shoves the blanket off and reaches down to grip himself under Dean’s narrowed gaze. One stroke, two, and the low and thick noise escapes his mouth again as his toes curl with the pleasure and Dean’s intense stare.

There’s only a moment, pulse beating visibly in Dean’s forehead, and then Sam is lifted like he’s a toy and his legs are wrapping around Dean’s suddenly naked waist as his mouth is taken. Passion, this is passion, and Sam knows about that academically from the Eshu’s stories.

His mouth feels swollen as Dean eats at it, teeth and tongue moving rapidly over hot flesh, and Dean’s cool hands somehow hold him up even as they slide over every exposed inch until they reach the cheeks of his ass and move over them to the center. Sam knows what’s coming next, but Dean’s cold finger rubbing against the rim of his asshole makes him gasp anyway and arch up, the head of his cock dragging against the tight muscle of Dean’s stomach and setting off sparks and fireworks in his belly.

Dean keeps him up in the air, helpless to do anything but cling as strong arms support him and cold fingers spread him open. The only sounds in the room are Sam’s moans and Dean’s breathy grunts, and then Sam is open and slick there somehow and the head of Dean’s cock is pressing into him.

It burns, hurts, and Sam whimpers and claws at Dean’s back while he’s split open on that long length. It’s cool too, the way the rest of Dean is, and that eases some of the ache as Sam settles at the base and breathes into Dean’s neck.

“I didn’t wanna hurt you baby boy. I wanted you to stay clean of me.”

Except Sam can’t be clean of Dean. He’s the brother Sam longed for, he’s the friend Sam only dreamed he’d be allowed, and he’s Sam’s King. He’s the man Sam loves. There’s a half-formed thought, a dim suspicion, of why Sam can’t go home to Dad again, and what Dean does to the people that hurt Sam or cross him. It’s not good, Sam knows it’s not good, but even if he’s not the most mature of teenagers he also knows that Dean doesn’t play by the same rules Sam does.

They’re tied together, by flesh and blood and love, and Sam likes it that way. It scares him how much he likes it.

“Dean please, please I need-“ and he doesn’t know. Doesn’t understand this restlessness in him because he wasn’t taught to understand it. He was raised by Dean to be innocent, and that’s ok. He’ll be innocent if that’s what it takes to keep Dean.

“I know what you need Sammy. Just let me give it to you. Always gonna give it to you.”

Dean starts to move, hips circling in tiny gestures as he lifts Sam up and down his cock. The burn is pleasant now, Sam fits tight and hot around Dean’s thick cock, and every now and then something inside Sam gets rubbed just right and his toes curl and sparks go off.

They’re moving in earnest, Dean pumping him effortlessly on his length, and Sam must be bruising Dean with how tightly he holds on as their lips meet again and Sam ignores the soreness there so that he can have Dean’s tongue and mouth.

He comes like that, suspended in the air and full of Dean without any more friction on his dick than the rub of Dean’s stomach and the air around it. When the spurts hit inside him Dean lets out a cry of, “Sammy!”

Afterwards they lie together in front of the fire, Sam wrapped up in the blanket again and in Dean’s arms. His lover, and Sam’s sure that title fits now, runs fingers through his hair and stares into the fire.

“You know this changes everything right? That we can’t go back, and I can’t give this up.”

There’s a smile that steals over his face as he captures Dean’s fingers and kisses each one. They’ve been inside him, Dean’s been inside him, and it’s only the beginning. Tir na Nog, the land of Eternal Youth. They have an endless number of nights and days to do this, and Sam suspects that he’ll never get enough.

“I don’t want you to.”

Current Mood: awake
Current Music: "Crystallize"-Lindsey Stirling