Ok, next one :D this one I'm not that fond of, but the last lines is admittedly one of my favorite ones I've ever written. warning, dark, twisted, wincest. I'm once again remembering to pander for comments *panderpanderpanderpander* leave one plzz. btws: disclaimed
Sam hit Dean in outrage. That was the first time he ever did that. Dean just stood there and let him. It made Sam a little sad that Dean would just let him, but he also wanted to explore how much Dean would let him get away with. Sam was 15 when this happened.
As they grew up it was noticed by anyone who could get close to the boys that they had an unusual relationship. But no one except the brothers understood how complex it truly was, and perhaps not even they completely conceive it. Perhaps they simply knew it without understanding it.
To the waking world they looked normal. Well, maybe not normal, but their relationship seemed well within the acceptable range. Dean was perhaps a bit overprotective, and Sam sometimes leaned in to close to his brother, but was nothing disturbing. But alone and under the cover of night, their relationship showed the reality of itself.
Sam always pushed. After that day so long ago, after the first punch had been thrown, he always tested to see how much Dean would give him, and Dean always gave him everything. And Sam took everything, like he needed it to survive, and Sam sometimes thought that he did. Thinking that always made him feel sick.
Because that's what it was. It was sick and twisted the way Sam needed to take from Dean, the things he needed to take from Dean. Because what he took was so much more than the pretty things like love. He took Dean's passions, lusts, and cravings; hiss pain and fear. Sam took his emotions, but he also took his touches, glances, flesh, blood, and bones. Sam took everything. Not even Dean's thoughts were safe.
But if Sam was twisted, Dean was broken; because Sam needed to take, but Dean needed to be taken. It had started off simpler than that. It had started because Dean couldn't refuse Sam anything. But over the years it had turned into something more. Dean needed this now just as much as Sam, maybe even more. Sometimes that scared Dean, but mostly it didn't.
Because these days he didn't feel anything except Sam. During the days he spent his time watching Sam's eyes. That was how he could tell how heavy the night's blows would fall. In the sunlight the boys played their roles perfectly, but Dean could read Sam's eyes like other people could read books. And sometimes Sam's eyes would flash and Dean could see a trickle of need flow into them. That's when he knew the taking would last all night. Dean usually caught naps in the middle of those days because he knew he would get no sleep at night.
Nights like those were hard to remember in great detail. Mostly Dean would remember flashes of things. The scratches on his arms, the tearing of flesh, and the crunching of bone. The rush of blood past his ears, the flood of emotions, and then the pulling sensation in his center as Sam drained them from him. And everything was overlaid by an almost suffocating sense of want.
It's brutal and breaking, but since Dean is already broken, he can't find it in himself to care all that much. But in the mornings, when both men wake up tangled together in a mess of limbs and skin, strangely sated, then it turns tender.
Mornings like those are rare, but they do happen; and though both brothers crave, need, the brutal taking, these tender mornings are probably the best mornings for them.
They will wake up, and usually Sam is still buried inside Dean, so he pulls back and places soft kisses on the dip in Dean's back. "I love you," Sam will tell Dean quietly, and Dean will bury his head in a pillow because he doesn't want Sam to see him cry, but Sam always know, and he just holds Dean until it is over.
Sometimes, on those mornings, they make love. It is always soft and sweet then, a direct contrast to the takings. At these times Sam can almost believe that they are not simply creatures who have been broken and twisted to fit each other's contours, but that they are natural lovers who have always fit together as perfectly as they do now.