What You Give is What You Need
Summary: Dean Bendis gets some answers.
Spoilers: Shot in the Dark (Dark Blue season finale)
Warnings/notes: Explicit slash. Supernatural crossover (Dean Bendis/Dean Winchester). Dean Bendis/Carter Shaw overtones, and blink-and-you'll-miss-it wincest reference. Inspired by discussing Dean/Dean with an LJ friend and providing detailed feedback for her Dean/Dean fic. She also provided beta services and the title for this, so three cheers for her multiple contributions.
Dean's got no clue what the guy's name actually is and doesn't care much either. What's important is he's a guy, and the combination of pretty face and leather jacket that doesn't quite hide the weaponry he's carrying reminds him a little of Carter. Carter's got a rugged edge to the pretty now, but Dean can still tell it's there.
He's been having stray thoughts about Carter for a long time. And since perjuring himself and faking bullet evidence to save Carter's ass, they've only gotten stronger and more long-lasting.
He's still not ready to risk ruining their work relationship if it turns out he can't handle not having the only dick in the bed, though. Which is why this stranger's perfect. If he can't, well, it's not like he has to ever see the dude again. If he can, well, maybe he's ready to graduate to the big leagues.
They've been talking aimlessly, saying more with their eyes and body language than with the words out of their mouths. Dean's ready to up the ante a little. He licks beer foam from his lips and then gives the stranger's crotch a hard look-over. He's jumping off into the deep end--he wants to, hell, needs to, know what his own limits are here.
There's shock in his eyes when Dean looks back up at them, but there's heat there too. He doesn't say anything, just turns his head towards the barroom door.
Dean walks out with the stranger following him.
The walk to his apartment is enough to sober him up a little. He's having a few second thoughts about doing this, especially with someone who's so obviously dangerous. But...the danger's part of the draw, and Dean's instincts are telling him it's not directed at him. And those instincts are well-honed by now.
When they get inside with the door locked, he thinks about a kiss. Doesn't do it, because this isn't about romance. For him, it's answering some questions. For this guy--who knows?
"I'm not who you really want, am I?" This stranger's perceptive--and honest. "Maybe I remind you of someone, maybe you just want to try the guy thing...don't know, don't care. Because hot as you are, you're not who I really want either. Not for more than tonight." He sits down on Dean's couch when he finishes.
Dean shrugs. He can't deny any of that. Dean doesn't even bother saying anything, just reaches for the fly of the guy's jeans. When he isn't stopped, he pops open the buttons and finds out he's not the only one going commando. Dean's stroking him tentatively, getting used to the feel of a dick in his hand that isn't attached to him.
He drops to his knees between the stranger's legs. He takes a careful lick from base to head. And okay, this is definitely a different set of tastes and textures than he's used to, but he isn't running screaming at those differences. He isn't when he tires of licking and actually wraps his mouth around another man's erection, either.
He's trying to duplicate some of the tricks he's always liked and finding out that giving a blowjob when you're not used to it is murder on your cheek and jaw muscles and way harder than he would have thought.
Dean keeps going for a little while, the salt-bitter flavor getting stronger and stronger on his tongue, until the stranger finally stops him.
He gives Dean a long stare, and Dean can almost hear him ask, is this what you want, or is there more you want to try?
Dean's about ready to accuse him of mind-reading, because he's curious now. He's read enough to know that getting fucked can potentially feel pretty damn good if whoever you're with knows what he's doing, and he'd like to see if it's true. He knows there's condoms in the drawer of the end table, and he thinks there's still a bottle of lube there, too.
He gets up, opens the drawer, and pulls out a condom and the lube that thankfully was still there from the last time he was lazy and jacked off on his couch. He hands them both to the stranger as his eyes go wide. Dean just nods at the question there.
"Bed. I want more room to play with you than the couch, and carpet burn's a bitch." Dean agrees with him fully on that point.
He leads the way into his bedroom, shoving back the blanket and comforter. They don't rip their clothes off in a flurry, but they're not trying to take it slow and make a striptease of it, either. He sees a gun and a couple of knives on the floor with the other man's clothes--it maybe should make him reconsider this, but it doesn't. Hell, the reminder of Carter's love of firepower actually gets him a little hotter.
He lays back, propping his head up against one of the pillows there and using the other to prop his hips up. He's done this with a couple girls before, so he knows this position'll work. He doesn't want to be on his hands and knees--he's going to be thinking about Carter no matter what, but not being able to see who he's with is going to make that worse. And given his inexperience, he doesn't really want to be the one running the fuck and riding this guy, either.
The next thing Dean hears is the sound of the flip-top on the lube being opened. He sees his partner slick up the fingers on one hand. He's getting a little nervous now. Not enough to want to stop, though. He's been shot, and that's got to hurt worse than this is going to and definitely didn't have the potential of an orgasm at the end.
When he feels a finger start to slide in, he's a little disconcerted. It doesn't exactly hurt, but, God, it feels weird. And then the weird turns to weird but really hot when that finger bends enough to brush something that sends fireworks through him. He thinks, so that's what having your prostate stimulated feels like--no wonder they say it's good.
Dean sees the smug expression on the other man's face. "Like that, do you?" He starts working another finger in, and that's starting to hurt a little. Still nothing he can't take, though. Dean feels the stretch as he scissors those fingers, and the pain evens out to a dull burn punctuated with bursts of sharp pleasure. The pain-stretch-burn cycle starts up again with the third finger in.
Dean's closed his eyes for the prep. He opens them and stares hard, trying to say he's ready without actually having to speak the words.
Apparently his nonverbal method works, because he feels those fingers being eased out of him. And a new pressure takes their place. The pain's worse this time by far, but not bad enough to make him cry "Uncle" by a long shot.
The first few thrusts are slow and lazy as his partner works him open and repositions him a little each time. It turns out having a dick hit that spot feels even better than fingers when the angle's finally right. Dean's ready to shift this into a higher gear, and he thrusts up on the next stroke in.
The stranger takes his cue beautifully and speeds up. He's nearly pounding into Dean now. Dean's mind is a haze of pleasure-pain. And when a warm, calloused hand encloses his flagging cock and starts stroking, it's all pleasure now. He can feel himself getting even harder, tension curling low in his body. He's adding all the force he can, meeting every thrust with one of his own.
When the coil finally snaps and he comes, he's pretty sure the name on his lips was Carter's. His partner's still fucking him, even harder now, chasing his own orgasm and stretching out Dean's. He's almost disappointed when the stranger lets out a wrecked moan that sounds a lot like "Sam" and comes.
And when he pulls out carefully and ties off the condom, there's an empty sensation along with the pain. Dean really hopes he's not going to have to do anything physical tomorrow, because he's sure he won't be up for it.
As he guessed, the pleasure was well worth the pain. He's smiling now, both from the afterglow and from what enjoying all this could mean for his future with Carter. If he liked this with a total stranger, how much better would it be with someone he's thought about as much as Carter?
The smile turns rueful as he looks into a stranger's eyes. His partner's wearing a matching expression. Both of them seem to come to a mutual agreement--I won't ask if you don't.
Dean's tired and sore in unaccustomed places, but he's also still feeling good from coming hard. He finally asks, "So what is your name, anyway?"
The stranger laughs. "Shouldn't you have asked that at the beginning? And it's Dean."
Dean's the one laughing now. "So's mine."
"Well, Dean too, I gotta go. But if you want to do this again, I'll be in town for probably another week or so. I'm in room 5 of the no-tell motel down the street from where we hooked up."
He reaches down to the floor and hands Dean his shirt. He cleans both of them mostly off with it, and then he collects his own clothes and gets redressed, tucking the weaponry back in as he does.
Dean's not about to move if he doesn't have to, so he tells the other Dean, "Lock the doorknob lock on your way out--you don't need a key for that one."
When he hears the sound of the lock clicking and the door closing, he relaxes even more than he already is. He's already planning how to approach Carter now that he's sure the guy thing isn't going to be a hurdle.
Fin