Never-ending Pool of Maple Syrup – act one
What a stupid day to not bring a jacket. Sam thinks, as he shivers and grips his upper arms. It's early winter, and until now, the weather has been moderately warm.
Dean strides ahead of him, looking back at his younger brother each 10 steps or so, his eyes narrow when he hears a ragged breath accompanied by the chattering of teeth.
"Here," Dean offers, pulling off his own jacket, "you wear it'
Sam looks doubtful, he raises an eyebrow. He gestures his hand up and down his body, and sighs pointedly.
"Oh right, it won't fit. Because you're so fat." Dean shakes his head, a smile plastered to his face. He pulls the jacket on slowly, torturing his frozen brother.
"Thanks, anyway." Sam murmurs, more to himself that to Dean.
A sudden blast of winter air breezes over them. I'm going to get a fucking cold. Sam thinks.
The Impala has broken down again, fifth time this month. Amidst Dean's tantrum, Sam suggested they go walk down the road to go get something to eat. 'It will only take five minutes' Sam Said. And so here they are, twenty four minutes on, walking down a street Dean swears they've walked through before.
Two pairs of boots step through the street; you can hear the echoes a mile away. It's strange, because usually this part of town is teeming with teenagers, but all the bars and clubs are empty. Sam curses colorfully when another unfriendly gust of wind shakes his bones and nearly rips the thin fabric of his shirt off his skin.
It's upon the approach of just another alleyway, that they meet someone.
He hobbles out from a dark crevice in the side of a barred-up hotel. His back has a hunch and he breaths heavily. Dean scoots quickly out of the way, followed by Sam who makes a small gasp at the crashing sound of metal bin's being tipped over.
The old man reaches out to meet them, holding a mangled cane stick in his left hand; his other hand is hidden under a draping mesh coat.
"What the-'' Dean says under the rasp of his breathing.
The old man smiles strangely, he has approximately two black teeth, from what the brothers can see. Trembling, he pulls his right hand out from under his coat.
Revealing two silver syringes.
Sam's eyes widen, Dean makes a choking sound and grabs for his brother's arm in an attempt to turn away from this freak. But the weird thing is, he can't move. They both try to step in another direction, but their feet are firmly planted to the concrete. Some gravitational force is determined to get them killed, or raped. Dean gags, watching the old man approach him slowly.
He hears the needle breaking the skin of his neck before he feels it.
****
The world is hazy, oh so hazy. Black shadows and white lights dance behind Sam's eyelids, playing tricks on his vision of reality. At first he thinks he's drowning, but when he opens his mouth to breathe in, all that gives is a hot flow of sweet. The flavour is familiar and it stings his tongue. The sickly sweet taste evades his senses, he can even feel it flow back into his hair.
Huh?
He then grasps the feeling of the rest of his body. It's quite possibly one of the messed up feelings he's ever had, like swimming in a pool of jelo.
He hears a loud voice call his name from other places, it sounds like it's been called from under the ocean. Sam twists his mouth in frustration but only finds more molasses-like-mess intruding his senses.
A rough hold on his arm pulls him up from under whatever the hell type of liquid he's been drowning in. He know's it's Dean, he can hear his brothers own exclamations, and he's not happy. Oh god, what have they done know?
It takes several moments for the temperature of the air above to touch his skin; the sweet stuff is rippling from him. His clothes must be completely wrecked, but he can't see anything, his eyes feel glued shut. With enough effort, he pops them open.
What the fuck.
What the fuck.
What the fuck.
Sam's eyes bulge, and his mouth gapes. This is by far the strangest dream he's ever encountered, but it all feels way too real to be a creation of his mind.
From what he can see behind his dripping fringe, Dean is in front of him. Waist deep in Syrup. Covered in it. Naked. Dean's eyes widen too, his hair is a spiked up mess of hair glued with syrup. Maple Syrup.
Dean coughs out a few strangled words. "Sammy, W-Wha?" "Where are we?" "Who took our clothes?" "I don't even like Maple Syrup that much!" He wails, turning around. It's only then when they both focus on the distance. It's horrific, a never ending pool of Syrup, and the sky is white. Just white. But it doesn't set of any apparent glow, it's actually quite calming. A sea of glimmering gold, like nothing they've ever seen.
Sam just stares, looking stunned, but Dean begins walking east. The syrup is surprising thick, and his legs work hard to stride through it. There must be an ending to this pool, somewhere.
"Do you think an incubus put us here?" Sam croaks.
"What?! No! I don't know, Sammy! Whatever it is, I'm going to kill it!" Dean growls loudly, wading through faster. Sam stands in his original spot, face twisted; he shakes his head, somewhat resembling a dog after a bath - syrup goes spraying everywhere.
"Kill it with what exactly? Let's just stay here. Maybe it'll come back." Sam says, more authoritatively this time.
"Yeah, and maybe it's fucking watching us naked in a fucking pool of syrup!" Dean shouts, coming to an abrupt stop several meters away from his brother. Dean tenses his glazed shoulders, and turns around. His eyes blaze with some intense flame, probably anger. His eyes rake slowly over Sam. Sam catches him staring, and Dean looks away quickly. This is just way too weird to even begin to comprehend.
There was this building urge to touch someone, himself and even more his brother. Sam wonders if Dean feels the same, but he knows he does when Dean approaches him, slightly stargazed, and presses a hand to his chest. It's awkward, and the tension comes from somewhere unknown.
Sam watches Dean caress the glazed skin of chest, its deadly erotic, feeling Dean's gentle fingers wander from his Collar bone, right down to the center of his toned stomach. God, he just wants to lick- And that's exactly what Dean does, he swipes a drip of maple with his tongue from somewhere along Sam's neck. It feels like fucking heaven.
His chest heaves with a hot gasping breath, and he pulls Dean's face towards his, taking his lips into his own. He'd never dream of it anywhere else, but the intense want Sam felt for Dean these last few minutes, was building inside, his heart pretty much ached with it. It was probably a spell. Whatever.
Sam traced the bottom of Dean's lip with his tongue, and found the taste overwhelming. Everything was overwhelming. Something was going on under the surface of the syrup, and Dean found out exactly wheat when he felt Sam's erection against his leg. He shivered, smiling delightedly. He'd seen his brother naked a handful of times, but this was a whole new level. And Sam was quite large in the downstairs department; a Winchester trait.
Sam's lips were hot and fast on his, the movements of their jaws in-sync with the dance of tongues. Sam's big hands curled into Dean's hair, and drew a moan out from him. Oh my god, they were both hard. Sam took the opportunity to kneel down, and take Dean's cock in his hands, it was very hard; and perfect, Dean was perfect. He lovedDean.
Dean's hands held the nape of Sam's neck, holding on for dear life. Sam pressed two kisses to the head, and the swallowed it in. He could only get as far as a couple of inches, but Dean was already making sex noises. Infact, he was pretty much choking on his own moans.
Sam's lips engulfed Dean's cock, and his other hand wrapped around the base, jerking him slightly. He made motions with his hips to the rhythm; his head swam with pictures of Sam, feeling of Sam.
His head lolled back, eyes shut tight. The blood that had rushed to his lower area was pulsing manically. He moaned, shooting cum into Sam's wet lips. His brother licked it up… fuck…
Sam stood up slowly, looking his brother in the eyes. Dean's cheeks were flushed, his hair was so messed up, and it was adorable. Then Dean went down in front of Sam, His eyes glittered green.
All Sam could think was,
This was, by far, the best dream, he'd ever encountered.
~ lacey
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