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SEASON 9 FINALE

OHAMASBCWKJMSDV SD<NF<SDMQNFgu;bvadkgjf,bnws;OGLVM

OH MY FUCK

ohmyfuckohshitohmygodicanteven

I've been waiting so long for this to happen to Dean. I've been waiting so long! Since he first showed his thirst for blood and sawed off that vampire's head.

thisshowisgettingfuckinglegendaryagain

fuckinglegendary!

The whole "legacy" thing felt kind of wimpy compared to how legendary Sam and Dean got doing shit. Finally, I'm feeling their relationship again and all the possible story arc that can follow and I'm feeling like I'm watching the story of truly legendary characters.

I mean, how good was that last line by Dean? FUCKINGOMGI'm freaking out. I was crying. I thought he was going to die, for real this time. And those little moments with Sam afterwards fucking hurt. I felt it, that feeling of loss. Of seeing those remnants of someone you love, who moments ago was alive.

And the writing was so good this season canijustsaythat. Metatron's character, and the actor was so perfect! Finally a smart villain. Or, smart villains.

AAAAAALKADVCKLIcantwaituntinnextseason. This last episode or two, all I was writing in my mind was how Sam was going to become his brother's keeper. Sam was going to keep Dean calm and human. And they were going to live forever like that. Fuckingsamsgentlehands. I almost thought Dean was going to say "I love you" at the end.

FUCKDEANISMYFAVOURITECHARACTER.

I HAVEN'T FELT THIS WAY ABOUT THE SHOW SINCE SEASON 5 YOU GUYS OMG!!!!!!


I can't even sleep because of this shit. I'm going to Queens of the Stoneage my energy away.
I fucking need some sexy metal/rock. And fuckin' Josh Homme. FUCK.

Also, how is Jensen Ackles getting sexier with age? HOW???
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Conversations

Title: Conversations
Author: skin_weaver
Rating: PG-13
Genre/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Wordcount: 1758 words
Summary: As Dean's deal comes to it's end, Sam decides that the best way for them fix things is to kiss.
Warnings: kissing
Disclaimer: Not my series, just my playground


It was down to the wire. With only a month left on Dean’s contract, both brothers found in them a tense awareness to every movement, every decision. Sam’s record kept skipping back at the end of “I’m going to save you” and by now Dean was pretty sure he wasn’t. He was pretty sure they both knew, but Sam held on to his sick belief in miracles, and in Ruby.

Bobby’s house was stuffy, and the last page Dean could read slipped through his fingers. He knew there were more words on Hellhounds, but the pillow under his arm was calling him to sleep.  He shifted so that he could pull it under his head and sleep at the desk.

“Come on Dean, go to bed.”

Sam yanked at Dean’s shoulder, making him grunt and let go of the pillow and the book. They stumbled halfway to the bedroom together before Dean had command of his stability again. He stepped into the room ahead of Sam and began pulling at his shirt and jeans.

He was in his undershirt and boxers when he noticed that Sam hadn’t moved from the doorway. He glanced over with a squint only to be locked into an intense look he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was something like a lost kid.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He immediately regretted that one and tried to brush over it with a smirk.

“Dean, I-“

“Sam, let’s not okay? I’m tired and I’ve had enough lore crammed into my head in the past day to digest for a week. I need to sleep.”

Sam paused as his mind warred with emotion.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to live without you here taking up space Dean.”

“Just drop it, we’ve still got time Sam and we both need rest. C’mon, get ready for bed. I don’t want to be the only one standing here in his underwear.”

Sam gave him more of his lost look, then conceded and pulled his shirt over his head. He didn’t move from his position by the bedroom door, and used his gaze to keep Dean from using any social transition to retreat from the corner in which he was placed.

Sam toed off his boots and unbuttoned his jeans. Dean felt immediately awkward that he was stuck there, watching Sam’s long fingers push his jeans to the floor and step out of them. He was then fixed with a determined pose from Sam. He didn’t have any energy for this right now.

“Okay, show and tell’s over. Go brush your teeth.”

“Dean, you know… you know how sometimes you want to understand someone, but you can’t quite get it?” It’s like Dean hadn’t even said anything.

“What Sam, do you want me to spill my ooey gooey insides for you? ‘Cause I’m tired right now, and getting cranky.”

“No, I mean talking doesn’t do it. Y’know? I just, Dean I just want to feel close to you.” Sam stepped forward. “I want to feel like I have more of a connection right now. Something to hold onto when… when you’re not here.”

“What’s closer than blood, Sammy? You know I’m always a part of you. We’re brothers.”

“Yeah, yeah I know that. But Dean…” This is when Sam began to stutter a bit, seeming at war with whether to step closer to Dean or to just drop it all together. Dean stood confused and annoyed, but was patient.

Sam stood into Dean’s space. “I just, just let me try this for a second…”

Dean felt the heat of Sam’s hand grip his bicep. Sam’s skin against his own was a bit of a shock, but he told himself to read it as harmless. He just wasn’t used to touching Sam like this.

Sam looked questioningly into Dean’s eyes, and cautiously moved his hand over Dean’s arm. It was like he was savoring the touch, but of course was worried what Dean would do.  Dean just waited.

“I’ll miss you.” And Dean knew what he meant. It shocked a rush of blood to his face as he tried to come up with something to shake the intimacy of the situation. Sam would miss his body; the space he took up. It seemed like a dangerous thing to say.

“Sam, what are you trying to say?” Dean averted his gaze to the floor.

Sam answered by settling his hand lightly on Dean’s tricep and leaning in. “Dean, can we kiss?”

“What?” It was like he didn’t hear anything, and his gaze snapped back to Sam. The second it was said, shock took it away from memory and he had to ask again.

“What?”

“I just, I feel like maybe we could be closer if we kissed. I could understand what’s up with you, and you could understand what’s going on with me too.”

“Wha- Save it for the girls Sam!” His face was red now, he could tell. He knew Sam was looking at it, noticing it.

“Just- Just try it? If I’m wrong, we can stop. I won’t tell anyone, you know that. I wouldn’t want anyone to know either. I just, I think it might help us, okay?”

Dean left it to stew in silence. He couldn’t look at Sam, but he wanted to reply seriously… whatever that reply would be.

“Close the damn door. Bobby might be around.”

He looked surprised, but Sam hopped to the door and shut it kindly. By the time he had stepped up to Dean again, he was sitting on the bed.

“Sit with me, Sam.” So, no sleeping for a while yet.

Sam sat closely to him on the bed and leaned into his space. So much like a damned needy puppy sometimes. Too bad Dean found it endearing all the time.

“Sam, I’m not a girl and I’m not your girlfriend. Are we clear?” It’s like he had to draw a line in the sand, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Sure, he knew that physical intimacy could tell you more about a person than words could, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to open that part of him to anyone. Even Sam.

“Yeah, we’re clear. You’re my brother Dean.” Sam looked eager and Dean tried to ignore it. He tried to ignore that Sam was blushing even more.

“So, I guess now would be good.”

“Right.” And Sam leaned into Dean’s space, carefully kissing his lips to Dean’s.

At first Dean flinched, but Sam made up the difference in space. No sooner had a soft sound come from their parting lips, Sam dipped in for another. The second had them touching fully, and longer. Dean couldn’t hear or feel anything but their lips and his blood beating through his body. He felt frozen in space, almost unable to act beyond his mouth.

Sam’s breath soon became noticeable, ghosting across his upper lip as Sam settled, drew back, and pushed into him again. They were chaste kisses, sitting on the edge of permission. It almost blew Dean’s mind that he could even tell that Sam wanted more. He lifted his hand to stutter onto Sam’s shoulder.

Sam took the queue to lean in closer and stronger, forcing Dean to tip his head. He replied with his hand to dean’s neck, cradling him, and Dean opened his mouth. It was a small reply, but it allowed Sam to swoop in and slot their mouths together tightly.

Sam’s breath was hot, and his mouth was hot, and god he was even getting Sam’s saliva on his lips. It made Dean’s dick grow a bit in his shorts, and his brain forget a few important details. It had been too long since he was kissed, let alone had any intimacy with anyone. The year had started with a literal bang, but their stress had snuffed that burning candle quickly.

That tidbit of thought was wiped from memory as a soft request was made by Sam’s tongue against Dean’s teeth. Without any hesitation, Dean returned with his own, tagging Sam’s teasingly and closing his lips in a smack. A bit of a rush hit him with the act.  It had been a while since he had teased Sam, and it felt as if they were sharing a joke.

Sam chuckled, pushing Dean toward the bed. His tongue licked against Dean’s lips, pushing them open and touching his teeth again. A shiver involuntarily passed through Dean, and he let himself lean into the sheets as he answered with his lips. Sam followed with his heavy frame.

Time was lost, and the world narrowed down even further to just their lips. They kept their tongues chaste, focusing on the smack of their mouths with their eyes closed. Dean still felt too hot to move. Sam’s breath had gotten heavier, and he could feel it weighing him down into the bed. The shifting of his brother’s shoulders told Dean that Sam was a bit more eager than he was.

When their hips met, a switch flicked in Dean’s brain and he ended it.

“I guess that’s the line then.” Dean muttered as he turned his head away from a reluctant Sam. Sam didn’t want to stop, but Dean did. He replied to Dean with a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you, Dean.”

It was almost like a sigh as Sam shifted backwards. Sam stayed by Dean’s side, both laying together halfway on the bed with their feet on the floor. The silence buzzed around them and Dean let his mind blank.

“Fuck, I’m tired.”

The frankness of Sam softened their intimate bubble. Despite knowing the line, Dean felt calmer too. Like he had shed some of his defensiveness towards Sam.

“Me too.” Dean paused before he lifted himself up and towards the bathroom. Switching on the fluorescent light and grabbing a toothbrush, he pondered at himself in the mirror. His dark circles weren’t fading, and his hair had a soft tousled look. He felt his joints creak as he shifted on the tile floor. He felt Sam’s body join him before he saw his brother’s smile in the mirror.

That was when he really saw Sam relax, his shoulders slouched and the same dark circles dulling his skin. He hadn’t had the time to stop and really look at Sam for a long time. He had been too wound up in his own grip with mortality. Sam reached lazily for a toothbrush and rinsed it under the tap with toothpaste. Dean smiled back.





-
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Shredded, II/II

Author: Skin Weaver
Title: Shredded (Part II/II)
Rating: NC17
Paring: Sam/Dean
Summary: Dean has just resurfaced from Hell and the tryst between him and Sam has not been reignited. What is it that Dean is hiding from Sam, and will he ever open up to his brother again?
Warning: smut.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, I only play with them. It's all thanks to Eric Kripke
*** After about a year, I finally completed this fic. Thoughts would be great. Thank you for your patience!


Shredded, II

When Dean's soggy shoes crossed the threshold of their motel room, nothing had changed. Sam still sat at his computer, peering into it as if it had just insulted him, books piled open to pages he had deemed significant. Dean could almost hear the water slide off his forearm as he twist his wrist to bolt the door shut behind him. 

Without looking up, "So I found us a new case." Click, click, click. 

"Oh, yeah?" Dean's voice came out wrecked. It wasn't what he had wanted. 

"Just the trick of finding more patterns as usual. You would think that this country's police force would pick up on some of these things after so long." Tap, tap, tap of a pencil against a stiff wood table.

"Well, you're the one to find them Sammy." The words were bitter in his mouth. After what he had done, Sam's name would always be tainted as it brushed along his tongue. He begun to peel his shirt over his skin, feeling the cloth strip away some of the truth about earlier. A hot shower would be nice.

"I think that either of us is the one to find it Dean. I'm just the one who prefers to sit and stay until I do."

Sounding as cheerful as he could, "That's why you're the sidekick and I'm the lead Sammy!" 

He was almost at home base, hand creasing around the bathroom doorknob. He waited for Sam to catch him, but he didn't.  

_____

Muscle slipped in Dean's hands as he grappled to tear it from the bones beneath, eliciting that oh so familiar tune from his victim. He could feel the blood boiling in his ears at the sick rhythm his body thrummed to, urged onwards by the inhuman noises coming from what used to be her mouth. A thick chuckle rumbled behind him and Dean's hair stood on end. 

Alastair's presence wrapped around him before a physical hand was laid, and Dean felt the familiar roil in his belly as his anticipation built. He knew what was coming. A rush of beasts, a whirlwind of terror winding up his body like a pack of hungry wolves to devour him. God, he wanted to be torn apart, wanted to share in this former woman's struggle for blood and consciousness as the inevitable evils of her past consumed her. 

Blood seeped into Dean's flesh as Alastair's fingers finally curled around his cock and twisted. He still held the woman's bicep in his hand, his black blade in the other. All of a sudden he tasted blood and he was coming.

____

"Dean!" 

Tensed into awareness , Dean found himself sweating into the covers of his motel bed with Sam shaking his shoulder roughly. The lights were off, but he could still make out the expression on Sam's face.

"Dean, are you okay?"

His heartbeat stuttered. What had he been doing in his sleep to trouble Sam so much? What had he seen...

Dean swallowed mild panic and shifted to sit up on brittle sheets. It only took a small bit of shuffling in that simple upward movement to realize he had bitten his lip into bleeding, and that he had indeed creamed his pants in the waking world. Shit.

"I'm fine Sammy." He just had to sit this one out, pretend none of this was happening. He moved his hand to push away the firm grip on his shoulder, but Sam protested.

"If by fine you mean "It's just another nightmare about Hell," then you've got some re-prioritizing to do. How do you expect to move on from this Dean?" Caught, Dean knew Sam was really talking about how they would move on from this. Since his return, Dean hadn't brought up their any of their trysts from his last year alive. 

"Talk to me, I'm your brother."

Dean would have scoffed, but decided to keep en route with dropping the subject altogether. "Nothing more to talk about Sam. I told you about Hell, I told you I remember. You know this is just something I need to wait out, so back off." 

Anger was bubbling up in his chest and he could feel Sam's reciprocated frustration between them. 

"No. I'm sick of waiting for the right time to talk about this, and I'm sick of coddling your stupid emotional insecurities! Ever since you came back, you've acted as if nothing ever happened between us, and it's driving me nuts!"

"Sam." Thick with warning, his walls started stacking bricks.

"I want you, all of you. What we started building, I want to continue. I hate that we've gone back to you not speaking with me anymore except to talk about the case!"

Keeping the anger down was numbing Dean's brain. He couldn't think clearly, repeating the mantra of "Drop it Sammy" over and over again in his head. He ripped his shoulder from Sam's tight fingers and turned towards him on the offensive.

"Maybe I don't want to do any of that any more! Ever thought of that? It was my last year Sam, I did a lot of crazy things! We did a lot of crazy things, that otherwise we never would have done! Why does this mean that we have to go back there, and why does this mean I have to talk to you about my shit?"

"How can you even ask that Dean? I'm your brother! I fucking give a shit about your crap no matter what! Now fucking yield already and tell me what the hell is going on with you!"

The energy they both emitted cancelled out as the waves collided between them. Dean's eyes met Sam's, equally wild in this desperate fight for dominance. They both knew who would win, but Dean didn't like admitting it.

"I told you I'm not saying anything more than I have already. Now, let me go back to sleep." Resignation had Dean leaning back onto the thin pillow beneath him. Sam stared with vivid frustration huffing out his nose. There was a pause before Sam made any sort of reply.

Suddenly a tight fist jolted Dean up by the cotton of his shirt, and he found himself staring directly into Sam's gaze. He wanted a fight.

"Fuck you, Dean."

Dean's fist slammed into Sam's side abdominals, loosening the grip on his shirt enough for him to regain control and begin to retreat. Straightening up, Sam's hand flew out and grabbed Dean down into a headlock.

"Coward!"

An elbow collided with Sam's stomach. Filled with conviction, he coughed and held on. Dean continued to struggle under Sam's tightening grip, finally bobbing his head up to slam Sam in the jaw. Momentarily confused, Sam teetered back as Dean fled for the door.

He didn't make it far. A mad dash behind, Sam slammed Dean's body into the door instead. Grabbing for his wrists, Sam's Sasquatch frame won him the capture of his brother. Albeit a wriggling, angry brother. He leaned in to huff into Dean's ear.

"Give it up." More a growl than words. Dean's heart stuttered at the tempting weight grinding into his back and wrists, but he pulled himself together enough to keep up the protest.

"Fuck off Sam!" 

Sam's reply wasn't the violence Dean was anticipating. "Dean," he moaned, pulling his hips to seat Dean's ass and thrusting. His breath grew laboured and Dean felt his defences lower momentarily.  Fuck, yeah, Dean wanted it too. 

The dread of Hell resurfacing had him drawing back. No way did he want Sam seeing that. No way did he want to even find out what that could end up being outside of his dream memories. 

"Sam, I was serious. This isn't what I want anymore, get off me." But his stutter betrayed him as Sam coiled a paw around his abdomen. 

Strong fingers pressed through his cotton tee, pushing firm flesh as they suggested the journey towards his cock. Dean shuddered as he let his hips roll back into Sam's lap, felt Sam's breath in his ear. 

"I don't believe you."

He hid his face in the grungy surface of the motel door, porous layers of unwashed paint distracting him from making serious decisions. Sam ground into his ass again, lovely friction picking up between himself and Sam's moving hand. They never did go that full step before he was dragged down into the pit.

Dean grunted. "I'm warning you Sam." Unh, shit wait, like that. Again. 

A deep chuckle against his neck, "Stop inviting me and I'll stop." 

Dean felt a tug at his boxers waist and a shock of arousal burned up his stomach, desire to forget why he shouldn't be doing this leaving out the memory of why he was up in the middle of the night. Sam's fingers tickled at the hem  before they softly pushed past, prompting Dean to quickly recall his embarrassment as strong heat wrapped around his now raging flesh. He felt Sam stutter in the mess.

"Dean?"

Fuck, retreat! 

Flat hands against the door beneath him, Dean switched all gears into escape and pushed back into Sam. "Shit!" 

Redoubling his efforts, Sam's shoulders managed to corral Dean back up to the door. "Dean, tell me." His hand hadn't left Dean's dick, his touch soothing and warm despite the leftovers of his dream. 

Dean swallowed his pride in a thick lump. A desperate "Sam," huffed out without his permission as he let his body be surrounded by Sam's.

"We can't do this anymore." Little admission sinking into the soft paint.

Equally soft whisper against his ear, "Why?"

"You know why, Sam. You've seen me sleep."

"Dean, I love you. I want to help you turn this around. Let me help you." With that his hand stroked up Dean's cock, sending shivers of surrender up Dean's spine. 

"Goddam stubborn sunnavabitch." Only mutters of protest now, Dean let his breathing heave and his spine curve into his brother. 

"I love you."

They lost themselves in the grind, Sam's erection hard to ignore through two layers of boxers as  Dean let him stroke his cock. It wasn't fair how hot a dick was up against his ass right now, and it wasn't fair how much it was making him pant for penetration. 

"Shit, Dean I need more of you." 

Dean missed Sam's lust voice and groaned his yes in response. 

"But first, let me clean you." 

Before Dean could think of a reply, Sam was guiding his body into the bathroom. Clicking on the light and stopping Dean by the sink, Sam  grabbed a washcloth and soaked it under the tap. Dean watched quietly so as to not betray his vulnerability, letting Sam ease down his boxers to relieve him of his earlier emissions. It wasn't really working, and a blush flooded his face. 

Sam didn't look up to notice, letting the warm, soft towel wipe the taught flesh of Dean's cock. Dean shivered and couldn't look away. Tenderly, teasingly, Sam let the cloth slowly remove any stickiness from him, even curling around and fondling his balls and touching a little behind. He let out a breathy moan at the provocation. Yes, Sam please. 

Without ever removing his loving gaze from Dean's cock, Sam let the cloth fall away and sank to his knees. Dean's breath hitched in shock as Sam's warm pink tongue lapped at his cock in an effort to sooth the trauma from before. The comfort in the gesture had Dean shivering, the light warmth of love a nostalgic shock to his system. This was nothing like the black red heat of Hell. He had forgotten that. 

Sam moved slowly to swallow all of Dean, pace increasing only after Dean was able to begin memorizing every nerve Sam hit with his lips and tongue. Wide hands gripped Dean's hips with intent and Sam sucked. 

He was lost in this. He was so lost he forgot the colour of the fluorescent bathroom light, the nightmare from before, the memories of Hell. His body shook as it all overwhelmed him, pushed him up and away from the darkness. He felt his eyes close as the heat crept in and replaced his anxiety.

So warm, close. The flick of Sam's tongue just there sparking a jolt up his abdomen. Again, and Dean was moaning, his knees starting to buckle. Pushing a hand out to steady against the wall, the quiver that rose over him with his climax suddenly began to feel dangerous. A fizzle to a throb of energy consumed his body. That was different, or maybe too familiar. He pushed it aside as he felt Sam's index finger graze his hole. 

Another moan, of shock and lust urged Sam to probe softly against the puckered flesh. Taking Dean all the way down, he pushed past the first ring of muscle and began thrusting. Dean's moans turned to huffs and gasps, too overwhelmed to make any audible comment about how much he wanted this. Like he said, they never made it this far before he was ripped down into the dirt. 

Before he could dwell on that fateful night for much longer, Sam pushed deeper, sending a shock through Dean's spine as he found that fabled spot. 

"Oh, fuck!" Dean felt his weight push down onto his supporting arm as his back arched. "Oh fuck, Sam." 

Goddammit, Sam. He pushed in again, rubbing that spot as if a magic genie would appear and Dean felt himself humming with an energy of such intensity that he cried out again. All of a sudden the room was a blur, and he could feel a dark red heat surround his unconscious. Oh fuck, oh fuck. A deep voice grumbled just behind his ear, fantom slick black blades tickled his loins, and Dean felt too close again to Alastair. 

He could feel the sting of tears well in his eyes as a rush of angry red heat bloomed from deep in his chest. Goddammit, he was close but this new fear was threatening to pull out memories and sensations he didn't ever want to feel again. 

Choked out, Dean didn't want to say it. 

"Stop."

But it didn't seem like Sam had heard him, his pursuit of Dean's pleasure clouding his cognition.

A sob now, Dean feeling the deep claws of Alastair skimming his scalp. Eliciting shivers of fearful anticipation, sticky black pleasure. "Stop." 

A hand on Sam's head, all illusion broken and leaving nothing but raw fluorescent bathroom lighting and a slight push. "Dammit Sam, stop!" 

Tears pushing fast trails down his cheeks now, Sam looked up with concern as he let Dean's cock go and withdrew his finger. A simple kiss to Dean's trembling abdomen and Sam was rising up to eye level. 

"It's okay Dean, just let it out."

Strong warm arms held him in tight against Sam's chest as Dean tried to recollect himself. 

"I don't think we can go there, Sammy." The sob left him blushing with humiliation. He didn't want Sam to see this. He didn't want Sam to know what Alastair really did. 

Sam curled around him close, nestling his lips against his ear. "It's okay Dean, I want you to show me."

Dean felt one of Sam's hands on his waist slip down to his hole again, pushing adamantly back in to the second knuckle. He trembled, both out of lust and fear, but held onto Sam's t-shirt tighter as Sam's finger sunk all the way down. 

"Sammy!" He gasped through tears, tinging the word with warning. 

"Show me. I love you so much. I want to see it." He wasn't sure what he was asking for.

After the first few shocking thrusts, Sam eased in a second finger. The stretch had Dean trying to centre himself, eyes open with steady breathing. It was okay, he could make it through this. He still felt almost crazy, cut off from time in this strangely lit room in the middle of the night and in the middle of nowhere. With his brother's fingers up his ass, and chasing a terrifying orgasm.

Soon Dean was noticing Sam's erratic breathing too. 

"Dean, can I fuck you?" Close to his ear, the suggestion somehow bypassed his brain and shot to his dick. 

Sam teased his entrance with a third finger, eliciting a grunt as Dean turned his face away from Sam. How could he say no? And, how could he say yes? He was so close to that radical edge where his brain would ultimately decide if it would fuck up his relationship with his brother or if it would get over the entire Hell thing forever. He decided he was going to end up pretty messed up in the end anyways, so why the fuck not?

He gripped Sam's t-shirt close. "Only if we get out of this fucking bathroom."

Sam's eyes widened, startled with the joy of Dean's answer. Again Dean found himself whisked off and into the main room where he was cornered against Sam's bed. 

"Do you have any lube?" Who was he to have any? He had been in hell the whole time.   

After a short intermission involving Sam's duffel, the scratchy sheets were beneath their skin and their groins met. Sam leaned in and their lips softly kissed, tongues teasing out thrills of muscle and moisture. Sam pushed Dean down, hands roaming over his new flesh and lifting his hips to meet Sam's excited thrusts. 

Not used to being so vulnerable, Dean called an end to the rag-doll game by gathering himself and flipping Sam with a whump. 

"No more games. I'm not waiting around." Feeling more resolute and himself, he slicked up Sam's cock as his brother gazed intently on. If he was doing this, HE was doing this. He had to have some sort of control, even if it lead down that sharp path of black.

Legs bracketing Sam's hips, he let Sam's blunt tip slip just in. Oh God, it was so bad. He felt the prickle of wrongness tickle up his neck and around his scalp. Hands on Sam's thick heaving ribs, he stretched down further with a hiss of euphoria. The squeeze of his muscles told him this game wouldn't last much longer. Sam seconded with a moan of Dean's name as Dean's ass swallowed him. 

The shock of the penetration left Dean blinking at Sam. He let his muscles wriggle and gave a short undulation of his hips. His hole clenched as Sam's cock grazed something, and Sam moaned.  

"I thought you said no more games." The gasp called Dean back to reality, and he found himself smirking and giving Sam the show he was waiting for. 

This felt good. This felt unattached to anything heavy, like before. Dean felt like himself, in control, and goddamn close to the edge already being on his brother's giant cock. Using his earlier breathing tactic, Dean picked up his pace as he found that perfect angle that made both him and Sam hiss. Even the air felt lighter on his sweat-dewed skin, each puff of breath a release as he gazed into Sam's eyes.

"Fuck, I never thought I'd see this." Sam gawked. Dean bouncing on his dick was the last thing he ever thought he would get.

Meeting Dean's thrusts with his own, they fell into a synchronized rhythm. Like a flesh machine, they huffed and gasped and moaned their way up a mountain of bloodrush. Dean could feel his follicles prick from forearm up to back and all the way to scalp. A shift of his hands brushed callouses against Sam's own damp, heightened skin and they both grunted their trust. Some shift occurred and Sam was lighting a place in Dean he hadn't before, leaving them both trembling and slowing. 

A deep grind chased the glimpse of electricity as Dean closed his eyes and felt the sweat drip down the centre of his back. Cold at first, Sam's hand reached to warm the spot and guide Dean's thrusts.

As if from inside, "Dean, I love you."

He wasn't sure if he replied, but he dreamed he did and Sam didn't push it. He just kept guiding as Dean began loosing coherent control over his twitching hips. Memories of Hell weren't even near his consciousness now, his body's memory guiding him closer and closer to this reality.

A spike in awareness and Dean could hear the breath gasp out of Sam beneath him, the friction of sheets under his knees, the obscene squelch of where they joined. Again their skin rasped together as Dean pulled his eyes to Sam's without shame. Underneath, another unspoken decision, and Sam was pulling Dean down in a new way that lead them to the end. 

He wasn't sure what came out, but he felt as if all of the energy in his body flooded out in that cry. All of the fear, the anxiety, the excitement, the vulnerability. Sam's hands held hard as he too murmured his love and trembled under Dean's hips. A lightness settled around them. 

Loud sheets shifted as they held on to each other's flesh just a bit longer. He didn't remember how they ended up laying down, but Sam's afterglow was beckoning him closer. Noses huffing, brushing closer as they stole soft chaste kisses that ignored stubble and bad breath in favour of the warmth of flesh and security of trust. 

"I meant it, Dean. I love you."

"I love you too, Sam." And he knew he couldn't push his luck any further. He had already given Sam more than everything, and like the other part of him he was, Sam accepted it without question. 

flowers

Shredded (Part I/II)

Author: Skin Weaver
Title: Shredded (Part I/II)
Rating: eventual NC17
Paring: implied Sam/Dean
Summary: Dean has just resurfaced from Hell and the tryst between him and Sam has not been reignited. What is it that Dean is hiding from Sam, and will he ever open up to his brother again?
Warning: Mentions of Hell, Masturbation.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, I only play with them. It's all thanks to Eric Kripke




Shredded

Dean was wet. The rain around him had been coming down in buckets for the last hour and all the while he had been standing in it. I guess you could say it was one of Dean's favourite ways to deal with immense personal angst; grab the impala while his brother was distracted in front of the computer and drive out to the farthest, most secluded road within the town's limits. It was either this or get drunk and find himself a randy who resembled as close to a playboy bunny he could find. Running away for some solitude had won out this time.

The road was only a two-lane, stretching out for long quiet miles between two sides of dense carolinian forest. The sky above it had stood like a grey wall just as he arrived, but now it was nothing but a blur of big fat droplets that spattered loudly on the hood of his girl. He was leaning beside her, just letting everything soak into him. Droplets trickled down his hair and flooded across his cheeks, each new drop becoming a new part of the system. 

His eyes remained fixed towards the infinite pattern that was the forest before him. So much endless reproduction and growth, endless patterns becoming so much that the trees became nothingness. Was this Life? It had all seemed so startling, almost painful when he had finally breached that last wall of dirt and found himself in this soft cushy world again. After so many years, he thought he had forgotten how slow and bright and endlessly alive the earth was. In some truth, he had forgotten, and it was almost too hard to grasp at its reality… until his nightmares began. 

Pain and fear and flesh had been his world for forty years. He had even begun to reinvent himself in it, take joy in it's perversion, scream and writhe and carve to it's thrum as he took his first steps to becoming a part of it forever.  Oh God how he remembered it, how much satisfaction he took from inflicting on others what was once his own burden to bear. That with every soul he tore down, he too went with them. Like hurting himself would pardon his actions. He could still feel Alastair's glee as he was taken from the rack, only a few pieces of flesh left on his bones, and handed his own set of knives. Slick and black like blood. 

And now every night he remembered. He could still feel the growing heat on his flesh as the skin of another was ripped by his hands. The laughter of Alastair still rang in the sickness around him, conquering him, flooding him with not only fear but insanity. Affliction was his air and torment his food. 

It took the sky opening up to make him start to notice the new weight of his leather jacket. The sight of it's taught supple hide almost made him begin to remember the diseased orgasm he had wrought from the bodies of so many souls. He almost wanted to rip it apart, but instead shed it and threw it into the passenger seat. 

The dark heat of his memories started to make his skin itch. It itched all the way down from his lightly freckled nape to the top of his groin, settling deeply into his skin like a burrowing insect. Dean leaned back against the Impala a bit more and brought his hand down along the hard shaft beneath his jeans. He groaned and closed his eyes to pretend it wasn't happening. 

Hitched breath puffed out into the dense humidity around him, skin prickling in sensitivity. The blood in his ears began to hum, the friction between his palm and jeans becoming his newfound focus as he picked up the pace and dragged his tongue out to taste the rain on his lips. It had been forty years since this was safe, since this action meant pleasure instead of hysteria, and Dean was apprehensive. Deep down he could feel his blood boiling, threatening to rise up over the edge and scald him with its dark crimson. Taint him with its rich voice and stain him with its rawness. He wanted it to.

Unconscious thumbs rubbed at his waistband and slid into the groove of his fly, working on instinct to remove the extra folds of fabric as smoothly as possible. The moment his heat hit the cool wet air felt like a relief, his well-hidden vulnerability finally being able to become a part of him. Every particle in the air, every droplet of rain that hit his skin became magnified in that moment as his blood began to rush louder in his ears. With a sure hand, teasing and deliberate, he began to explore the flesh of his cock. The world of endless forest and road faded into the new-forming fog around him as he let his head droop forward and the rain tickle his nape. 

The rush began quickly and his surrender was easy when it was just him and endlessness. He let out another moan, louder, more wanton than before as a flush rose to his freckled cheeks. He began to picture his assailant; warm strong hands, smirking lips, broad shoulders, fissured waist. He could almost feel Sam's breath on his face, almost feel his figure looming over him in possession as his hand sped up to match the demands of his hips. 

"Sam." 

The twist of his rain-slick head wasn't enough, but the tease of its potential was leading Dean to the edge. The drumming of blood in his ears, his chest, became the beat of his twists, his moans, his thrusts, his "Sam" until he could feel the sparks begin in his toes. Shuffling muddy boots on pavement to readjust his balance on his girl gave him a moment to catch his breath and perfect the pace. 

He and Sam hadn't touched more than brotherly since he had first embraced him upon his return in that crappy motel. It was a mixture of respect for Sam's potential normal heterosexual life and his own fear of what may bubble up from the depths of his memories of Hell. They had only just begun to open up to each other's desires before Dean's year was up; that timeline had allowed for Sam and himself to take the risk of each other without room for regret. What would Sam think of Dean now that he was damaged goods?

Dean had been more than a body to cut for Alastair. The hiss of his voice became a trigger for the roil in Dean's belly, the slide of his blade through Dean's flesh the final shove off the cliff into orgasm. Oh God, the orgasms that tore apart his body in ways that random women and Sam were never able to do. Sam could never know. 

Dean could feel himself peaking, could feel the urge to wretch and blurt blood from unknown wounds like he had so many time before with Alastair surface alongside his older urge to feel Sam's lips and love consume him in the rush. The deep conflict left him confused, guilty, and groaning out the last shakes of his orgasm. He was fucked.    

Throat gasped raw and breathing still charged, Dean's pupil's refocused on his surroundings. The pine needles of the forest seemed closer now. The rain had let up, and the cotton of his shirt clung desperately to his warmth. He curled his flesh between his fingers thoughtfully and peered down at his decision. This was so fucked up, so desperate. How could he have reached this level of depravity? How could he possibly relearn his kinks when he'd been left screaming at Alastair's hands longer than moaning at the hands of his own brother?

More importantly, how could he keep this away from Sam? 

He stared a long time, unfocused at the ground before he felt an itch and tucked himself away. Sitting around would only pick Sam's curiosity more, give him a chance to catch up to Dean in his bubble of privacy. The cold creak of the Impala door slammed closed beside him as the familiar rumble of his baby's engine sent a glow through his chest. 

He would find a way.   






Part Two

flowers

One Year Series: Part 1

Author: CandidKage Skin Weaver
Title: One Year
Rating: NC17
Paring: Sam/Dean
Summary: Sam and Dean get back from closing the Hell Gate and Killing the Yellow-Eyed Demon to face the fact that Dean only has one year left.
Warning: Frot, Blowjobs, Rimming

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, I only play with them. It's all thanks to Eric Kripke


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"One year."

Sam's voice hit the dense darkness that sat between him and his brother. Dean had known that neither of them were going to sleep tonight, but the sudden assault to his own anxiety came unexpectedly. He thought back to his father's face as he held his shoulder and the yellow-eyed demon lay dead on the ground beside them. That ache in his eyes, that knowing that he escaped Hell itself, gave Dean the painful knowledge that maybe he too could have the same opportunity. Shit, as it was he was getting a better deal than his father ever did, having Sam to lay breathing across the room from him. The second he knew he lost that… he truly felt how much Sam meant to him alive.

The silence grew and Dean didn't know what to say. Sam had already given him shit for his decision. Even Bobby had threatened to throttle him for his foolishness. But where was Dean without his father, without his brother, the two people he spent all of his time trying to protect? They could yell at him all they wanted, but his life needed to be worth something. A year of his time for Sammy to get the chance to be happy? The trade was the best he could get. He didn't shift from his position and no sound came from Sam's end of the room either. The weight of the darkness around them started to press in on Dean, his limbs feeling heavy and stiff. Sam sniffed, stifling what sounded like tears. He heard shuffling then.

"God, Dean, it hurts so much." Sam was clenching the shirt over his chest and squeezing his eyes. Dean could hear the ache from his brother, but didn't know what to do next.

A long silence, then "I couldn't live without you Sammy."

"Yes you can Dean!" Sam knew it wasn't entirely true. Without his resurrection, he couldn't have seen the yellow-eyed demon dead, or his father freed. "You shouldn't have been stupid enough to repeat what Dad did to you! You of all people should know how this feels!"

"What was I supposed to do Sammy?" Anger boiled up, that hopeless feeling clinging on as well. "… what was I supposed to do?"

The vulnerability and anger in Dean's voice hit Sam and he started to consider Dean's feelings too. It wasn't often that Dean opened up about sad feelings, only letting himself shine whenever something was happy. He hadn't talked much in the car on the way back to Bobby's from the Devil's gate. Hell, he didn't even play music. Just drove while Sam replayed what had just happened, the echo of his father's face like a ghost in his mind. Sam heard Dean shift on his covers, a sob escaping. He felt cornered.

"Dean…" Sam sat up and started towards Dean's bed. He reached out onto what he thought was Dean's bed and touched the covers. Dean wasn't under them and he started to be able to make out Dean's form. Turned away from Sam, Dean seemed withdrawn into himself. He touched his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Sam. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. When you disappeared that night at the Diner… I should have known to watch out."

"It's not your fault Dean." Sam squeezed at his brother's arm and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yes it is, I was supposed to look out for you Sam. I was supposed to save you from this whole mess."

"You can't expect to keep me on some leash, Dean. I can take care of myself now. Whatever happens to me is not your problem."

"Yes it is Sammy! You are my problem!" Dean rolled over then to confront Sam's face. He sat up and gripped the hand Sam had placed on his arm.

"Dean, you going to drive yourself crazy! If anything, you already have! Selling your soul for me, Dean? No one asked you!"

"I asked Me, Sam! How am I supposed to beat this… Thing? This big plan to bring about the apocalypse, without you Sam? How would I be able to save people without you?"

Sam sat a little clueless for a second. He needed a good answer to that one. "There's Bobby, Dean! And Ellen and all the other hunters out there! You're not alone Dean!"

"It's not the same. They're not the same. Me and you, we've got a rhythm! A connection that no other hunter's got! You're my brother, my family!" Dean's adamance proved his belief that this was reason enough. Sam wasn't convinced.

"Dean, there will always be other ways. Selling your soul was not the answer!"

"Well, what are we supposed to do now Sam? I've already done it, and if we try to undo it, then BAM you're back to being dead again!"

"Dammit, Dean!"

"Well screw you! So I can't live without you, so I'm an idiot! But I sure as hell am not pussy enough to back down and let some psycho soldier kill my brother and get away with it! You would have done the same Sam. You know you would have anything you could to get me back if I died!"

Sam let the words hit him. It was the truth, and both Sam and Dean knew it. Neither of them would let anything tear them apart, even death. But one year? It was harder every time Sam though about it.

"But Dean, one year?"

"It's all she would give me sam." Dean looked down and away from Sam's gaze. His soul was no good alive for the demons, and no good dead for Sam.

Sam's heart began to ache again. Dean had pushed his luck for Sam; it wasn't an easy bargain. He really couldn't remember being dead, whether he had gone to heaven or hell. But the look on Dean's face made all of that seem less relevant, make it seem more important that he was here and Dean only had a year left. He reach out again and touched Dean's left shoulder. Dean sighed and pressed his cheek to it.

There was something else both of them had realized during this ordeal; Sam's death, Dean's breakdown, killing the yellow-eyed demon, and their father's last goodbye. They meant more to each other than they realized. The tight unit that was their family was being broken, the first permanent piece being John. With Sam dead without any rational solution like Dean had had with the holy saviour and his father's deal, what was there to be done? Dean had made the only decision available to him, and he had fulfilled what he was supposed to do: avenge their mother and save their father. Sam was lucky to be alive to see that, to help accomplish that, and was lucky to be able to be with his brother one more year. They were both lucky to have each other. To have the other piece to their puzzle, the guy who could predict every move, reaction and decision the other would make, the guy who would do anything to protect the other.

Deans eyes rose up to meet Sam's, both sparking with an intensity that echoed their resolve. Nothing was going to be skimped on. Nothing was going to be wasted, hidden, or denied. They only had a year after all.

"Sammy…" was all Dean could breath out before they leaned into each other to test their lips. The first touch was light, brushing and unsure, then quickly moved to complete surrender and hunger. Dean pushed up to Sam's mouth, both opening wide for the other's tongue while lips brushed, pressed, and opened again for penetration. Dean moaned first, sitting up more and pulling himself towards Sam's body. Sam turned himself more in line with Dean to allow for their chests to touch and pushed back with "mmm."

"God, Sam." gasped out of Dean's mouth as Sam pushed him down onto the bed from where he had risen. Dean wasn't paying attention to power play at the moment, and Sam began to slide his body onto the bed and on top of Dean.

"Dean." Sam whispered as he pushed his body up against Dean's side. His dick was responding and the pressure against Dean's leg was perfect.

Their kisses paused for a moment as they caught their breath and the situation that was swelling up. Dean could feel Sam's dick brushing against him as he panted through moist lips. He didn't mind it and the hot breathing coming from the face beside his wasn't turning him off, it was actually doing the opposite. He twitched and felt that his own cock was starting to fill with anticipation, despite the whole deal that they were brothers. The darkness seemed to ignore that fact.

"Dean," Sam took Dean's hand an guided it to his heaving chest, then down to the shaft poking through his sweats. "I want this."

Dean had to catch his breath again at Sam's likewise forgetfulness of their relation. God, this felt like some sort of tryst between them. Here in the dark, there was nothing else; the world was gone. Only their emotions joined them, and the truthfulness was hard to escape. That and Sam's dick was like a rock.

"S-Sam." Dean stuttered as he fondled his brother's length. Nothing had felt dirtier than this, and the fabric between their flesh was a tease. "I don't want to loose you."

"Shut up." Sam ground against Dean's leg harder and reached for his brother's face to pull him into another violating kiss. Dean gasped through his brother's lips as he felt Sam's hand then reach down to the elastic of his pants and push past. The shock of the touch made Dean shudder and moan open-mouthed into Sam. The strength and warmth of Sam's large hand gripped his dick and stroked it's length slowly with determination. The electric shock of every slide had Dean coiling up inside and twitching his hips against Sam. He moaned again and Sam replied as he picked up the grinding pace against Dean.

"Mmmooohh, wait, Sam." Dean lifted his hand from Sam's cock and pushed him away a few inches, breaking the kiss. "Wait, lie down." He pushed Sam's back to the sheets as he said this, shifting their position so that he was on top.

"Dean, what are you-" was all Sam could get out before Dean kissed him forcefully and pulled out both of their dicks. Sam moaned in Dean this time and when Dean pushed apart Sam's legs and touched their throbbing cocks together, Sam felt like he was going to explode with the heat that was building in his stomach. "FUCK!" was all that rang out into the stillness around them as Dean pushed his hips into Sam and their cocks began a beautiful sliding motion. Even the slap of their balls had Sam rutting at their indecency, each grind a shiver of release.

By now Sam was bracing himself as he held onto the headboard above him as Dean thrust into him. All that escaped Sam's mouth were gasps and moans, the former being at quick electric thrusts and the latter for long pressures that climbed up his abdomen. Dean had stopped trying to see in the darkness, his breath quickening to a pace like Sam's and the sweat beading on his forehead as he arched into his brother. He noticed the sheen forming also on Sam's chest through his rough motions and grinned. Fuck Sam was beautiful. Alive beautiful. So alive, that it hurt to try to realize the vulnerability of his flesh; that he had been dead before. Dean picked up the pace at this thought.

Sam had to call it quits. He didn't know if he could take this feeling any longer, and Dean's thrusting was beginning to hurt. "Dean, wait. Sit up."

Dean did what he was told and kneeled onto his heels as Sam blindly sat up and lunged for Dean's dick. "Wait! Sam!" Dean gasped as Sam licked the slit of his now rock-hard cock and then dipped forward to suck the tip. Sam moaned onto his brother's cock and leaned in to swallow as much as possible.

"S-Sam, this… this is unfair." Dean stuttered out as he placed a palm to his forehead in disbelief and a hand into Sam's hair. He began guiding Sam's head back and forth onto his cock then, pulling his brother's mouth closer and eliciting more groans and vibrations of pleasure. Sam had never sucked a cock before, and never thought he would. But having a dick himself helped guide him in what felt good, and Dean's arousal was really getting him off in ways he would never admit. Even the scent of his sweat was making his hips twitch as he knelt and took Dean deeper.

"Sam, you've got to stop. I'm going to cum if you… if you keep doing this." Dean moaned again and hunched as he shivered. Sam had sucked and pulled at just the right spot and he was going to loose it quicker than he thought. Sam didn't stop though, sucking faster and deeper, pausing at the tip to touch Dean's slit with his tongue.

"Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!" Dean spat out as he began to ride Sam's rhythm with his hips. Faster and faster he thrust, fisting Sam's hair until he lost all control and the thrusting came in short sporadic quivers. Sam held on despite the violation and found himself swallowing Dean's cum like he hadn't drunk in days. His own cock jumped at this and he could almost feel his orgasm peaking. Almost.

Dean sighed out his release as Sam let his brother's cock slide out of his mouth lewdly. The wet slap of it hit Dean's thigh and both of them shivered.

"Lay back down, you." Dean said hazily through his recovery. Sam obeyed with anxious energy as Dean leant down towards Sam's still rigid dick. "God, you're so big Sam." Dean admired the length and girth for a moment and then moved in to take it all.

"SHIT!" Sam hissed as Dean choked on his cock. The spasming gag reflex twitched around his cock head and Sam felt like he would come then and there, but Dean kept going. Pulling up and sucking the whole way, Dean spent a few extra seconds massaging Sam's head with his tongue only to jam himself down onto to full length again. He kept this rhythm for as long as he could take it, which was surprisingly long, and Sam managed to survive it without cumming.

Dean's back arched a little and Sam took notice. The crevice between his ass cheeks and the rippling lower back muscles above it made Sam's primal urges to dominate rumble. He lowered his hazy gaze down to the pretty, quick mouth around his big fat cock and growled and thrust up as Dean came down. The gag was a bit more surprised this time and Dean pulled back to cough.

"Hey, be careful man, this is not easy!" Dean swore as he wiped the spit from his mouth.

"Suck my balls." Sam dared Dean.

After a challenging stare, Dean licked Sam's length and then settled down to his balls, drawing one into his mouth. He sucked and rolled it, taking in the smells of Sam's groin. Sam grunted and twitched while Dean continued, moving on to the other testicle. Impatience was building, they could both feel it. Sam wanted to come, but he wanted something more than this. He moaned and twitched again, trying to motion Dean to change the pace. But Dean just kept working it the same.

"Dean! Come on!" Sam said restlessly. He had been wanting to cum for too long now and he was getting frustrated. Dean chuckled and grinned to himself.

"Okay, if that's what you want." Sam could feel the ominous tone in Dean's voice, but didn't have long to dwell on it as Dean lifted his hips up high and lowered his tongue to Sam's ass.

The unexpected quiver of surrender shot up Sam's spine as Dean's tongue dipped and licked at a place Sam had never considered to be sexual. It was embarrassing, and he shivered at the gesture even more as Dean continued. The vulnerability of Sam, his big muscular lug of a little brother, was making Dean regain his erection. Sam whimpered as Dean breathed hotly onto the now moist pucker.

"D-Dean….. Dean…" Sam was moaning, egging Dean on to do more. The very idea that his brother was mewling for him made Dean want to cum again, thrust into him maybe. That would make Sam scream. But Sam was too close, the very idea that Dean was doing something so dirty to his brother made his stomach leap and his senses shudder. He felt like a virgin again, and the orgasm was coming in one hot burst.

"I love you Sammy." Dean hoarsely said, bending in again to lick at his brother's hole.

"Dean! God, Dean!" Sam was really breathing sporadically now, his breath heavy and gasping. Dean decided it was time to up the stakes again. He sucked down onto Sam's hole hard, Sam gasping as he slid his tongue deep inside and wiggled. He continued this movement, thrusting his tongue back and forth between the strong rings of muscle, and Sam lost it. With a wide-open mouth and an "Aaaaauuugghhh," Sam quivered as he came on his belly.

Both were exhausted and pulled themselves together on the bed. No more words were spoken as their breathing began to level and their mouths met for one more kiss. They did end up sleeping that night after all, both understanding that this was going to be one hell of a year.
flowers

Welcome

 Welcome to my slash fiction livejournal account. I look forward to bringing to the table my dirtiest little dreams for you to revel in. Please, feel free to dive in, and do with them however you see fit. 

Comments are always accepted, and a good critique is like the slap you take to enjoy the punishment further <3

All the best,

Skin Weaver