We Are the Clay and You Are Our Potter
Aaron had claimed the golem and become its master. Apparently this was pleasing to the golem because he had stopped yelling at him in Hebrew and went off to stomp around the perimeter and keep Aaron safe. He seemed reasonably happy.
The Winchesters might be psychopaths, but they were good to have around when your housemate was a giant magical clay being, and Nazi zombies were after you because your grandfather had been involved in some secret war initiative. The brothers had offered to stay the night and Aaron had tossed some old blankets into a spare room that had various broken appliances and bits of shattered wood. It was the golem's room. Aaron had shuffled off to his own room.
Dean had a hard time sleeping. He had stuffed his scrap of blanket into a corner and rested his head on it, but his back was bothering him. He was getting spoiled sleeping in a nice cushy bed, and he was too old to be spending nights on a floor. He got up and made his way slowly to the living room, watching carefully in the dark for signs of movement and furniture to stub his toes on.
He settled in on the couch, finding a lamp and clicking it on to look at his father's journal spread over his lap. Written in his father's practiced scrawl, the last entry in 1996 had a few brief paragraphs about golems. There were some names he wanted to look up later. If Aaron intended to keep his golem, he may want as much information as possible. Dean had found a notepad in the kitchen and was scrawling notes when he heard slow footsteps and a deep inhaling of breath. A very potent and strangely familiar smell wafted in along with the form of Aaron Bass.
"Oh shit." he coughed, expelling a massive cloud that lit silver in the dim light of the reading lamp."Forgot you were here." He was wearing a ratty pink bathrobe, flannel pajama pants, and a soft looking pale blue shirt. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and looked at Dean. "Do you mind?" he asked, taking the seat next to Dean.
"Its your house dude. I just hope you haven't rolled that joint with any religious texts, your buddy out there might get mad."
"Har har. Its rolling paper." Dean watched as Aaron took a large hit. He noticed the look. "What? You've never smoked before?" he asked, releasing his breath at the same time, it made his voice sound weird.
"Oh course I have, I was a teenager once too. But I haven't since then. Kind of need a clear head in this business." Dean taunts. "You might want to tell him to keep it down out there, people are trying to sleep."
Aaron sat and listened for a moment before getting up to talk to his golem. A musky, herbal scent followed in his wake. A deep rumble could be heard when the door was opened, and a few words slipped in before Aaron returned.
"He's singing a protective song in Hebrew, then he's going to meditate...he does that." Aaron flopped back down on the couch.
Dean had closed his father's journal by now. He handed his notes to the other man. "Here. This might help you with the big guy."
Aaron tucked his joint between his lips and took the papers. He flipped through them quickly. "Thanks man." he paused for a moment and licked his lips. "Do you...do you want to hit this?"
He looked questioningly at Dean. Dean looked back toward the room where Sam was sleeping. He gave a short nod ad took the offered joint. The end was slightly gummy from saliva so he rolled it between his fingertips quickly before taking a quick and shallow hit. As soon as the smoke hit his lungs, he coughed and a little jet of smoke came out. He covered his mouth with both hands as he shook with little hitched efforts not to cough and wake Sam.
Aaron clapped him on the back. "It really has been awhile huh?" he gave Dean a beatific smile. "Try again, it'll be smoother this time."
Dean complied, taking a longer drag and successfully holding the smoke in for a few seconds. He handed the joint back to Aaron. "Do you have some water, this is going to make my throat dry."
The other man got up and headed to the kitchen, Dean could hear the creak of the fridge when it opened and Aaron pouring two glasses of something. Dean felt sort of light and giggly, he started to hum a little tune to himself. He suddenly realized he was humming Dreidel , Dreidel, Dreidel and started laughing. He couldn't remember where he had even learned the song.
Aaron came back from the kitchen carrying two large glasses of cold chocolate milk. He set one on the end table by Dean's elbow. "Chocolate milk?"
"Trust me, in five minutes you are going to want that more than you've ever wanted anything in your life." He gave the small end of the roach to Dean. "Here finish this, I'll be right back."
Dean didn't feel his hand reach out, it felt weightless as he pinched the last bit of paper and held it to his lips. He sucked in smoke until his fingers grew hot. He looked around for an ashtray or even an empty can to toss the remnants in. He slid himself down to the floor and looked under the couch. An old bottle of soda had rolled under it and he stuck it in there. Once on the floor he decided it felt really nice to stretch out and stay there.
"Hey, are you okay?" a pair of feet near Dean's head asked him. No, not the feet, the person standing over him.
"Yeah, it just feels really good down here." Dean rubbed his face against the carpet.
Aaron laughed. "Don't do that man, you'll get rug burn on your face." he handed him his glass of milk and sunk to the floor beside him. "Here." he tossed part of a large blanket over Dean. He realized it must be the comforter from his bed.
Dean sat up and took several large swallows of chocolate milk. "Dude. This is fucking awesome. Why is this so awesome?"
Aaron laughed. Next to him, Dean could hear the flick of a lighter and he glanced over to see Aaron was holding a pipe in his hands, "Looks like your grandfather wasn't the only one good at making things out of clay." he smirked, sliding down to lay on the floor again.
"I took a pottery class." Aaron deadpanned. "C'mere." Dean listed slightly closer. "Do you know how to use one of these?" Dean shook his head in an enthusiastic no. "Look, I'll show you."
He held the pipe in his left hand, thumb over a little hole on the side, he slowly lowered the flame of his lighter over the bowl, inhaling deeply while uncovering the hole. He removed his thumb from the lighter, turned, and blew smoke into Dean's upturned face.
They were laying on the floor, sharing a pillow, the comforter tucked around them. Their noses were inches apart. They were talking about family curses, and cars, and bacon, and what Aaron would do with his new best friend the golem. Dean cracked his neck and inched closer. Aaron scratched the scruff on his chin and tilted his head forward. They were playing a strange game of chicken.
They were so close now they were sharing breath. Aaron's eyes were dark and focusing in and out on Dean's jade ones, so close he could only see the smattering of freckles on the bridge of Dean's nose before they both moved at once and their lips softly collided. At their angle, their noses were rubbing together, and it was more of a bumping of lips than a kiss, but it started something.
Dean brought up an arm and draped it over the other's shoulders, Aaron tangled a hand in his shirt trying to pull Dean closer. Their lips are a little dry and when their tongues tangled together the flavors of chocolate and smoke mixed. Soft moans and hums filled the spaces between them as they lazily kissed.
And Dean was tingling everywhere and his eyelids felt so heavy he wanted to grab onto Aaron and hold him until he fell asleep but Aaron threw a leg over Dean and ground them together. Dean finds himself rutting back and searching out his mouth for sloppy open mouthed kisses. Somehow he has been divested of his flannel and his tshirt is halfway up his chest with Aaron's hand inside and he wants to laugh because he's ticklish but then fingers are teasing his nipple.
"Jesus!" Dean yelps, muffling a groan against Aaron's scruffy neck.
"Shh. Don't want to call in the big guy." Dean doesn't know if he means Sam or the golem.
Aaron's hands are dipping lower and he cups the taller man's ass to pull him closer. He was sticking fingers through beltloops, fumbling with buttons and zippers, unceremoniously shoving a hand into boxers to cup Dean's erection before they are fiercely kissing again.
Dean breaks for air. "You really were hitting on me at that bar, weren't you?"
Pressing himself into Dean's hand Aaron gives a nod. "Maybe a little bit." he gives a quick nip to Dean's neck. "Did it work?"
"Maybe a little bit."
Aaron slid denim and underwear down until Dean was kicking them off. Dean swallowed heavily, his mouth dry and tongue thick. Legs tangled together, grunts and groans cascading out as they rocked against eachother. Before he knew it, his hand was urging through Aaron's hair, tugging insistently. The urge to tug on his stuck out ears was stronger than anything. With the hand that wasn't tangled in hair, he stripped the other of his pajama pants.
Aaron kissed his way downward, tongue circling a nipple, lathing a belly button, following the trail of hair down down down to lap at a pearly drop of precome. Dean's grip in his hair tightened, hips jerking slightly, causing Aaron to put his arm across his hips to hold him down. A few long swipes of tongue and then he was dipping his head and sucking Dean into his mouth.
Dean tried helplessly not to buck his hips into the contact and just fuck the other man's face. At some point he registered the door clicking shut and thudding steps retreating deeper into the house but he ignored it. Aaron had one hand wrapped around the base of Dean's cock in a snug circle, the other holding his hip down and drawing little circles on it with his thumb.
After a few minutes Dean was almost squirming under the ministrations. He could feel his muscles tensing and his toes curling. His legs began to shake, he ground his teeth and held his breath. Just before his orgasm hit, Aaron pulled off, eliciting a very undignified whine from Dean. He was about to ask why he stopped before he was being flipped and he once more had his face buried in the carpet.
Behind him he could hear Aaron slicking up before rubbing himself over Dean's ass. There is an arm pushing him to the carpet and he can feel the friction on his face and chest before it lifts and a hand is wrapping around his spit slick cock. He can feel Aaron sliding between his cheeks and it only takes a few jerks before his is right back on the edge, tipping over. He bites his arm to keep from crying out. He can feel the other man take a few more thrusts before wet warms spreads over his lower back and drips into his crack.
Dean lets himself be lowered to the floor and have a blanket thrown over him. Aaron collapses behind him and makes a halfhearted attempt at throwing an arm around him and Dean allows himself to be spooned because he is still too euphoric and also still a little high.
Dean hopes this feeling wears off before morning.
Dean woke with a start to Sam shouting. Apparently he expected to wake up with Dean in the room and not a golem. Dean felt the situation would be worse if Sam saw how he had woken up. Dean could feel a low twinge in his back from sleeping on the floor and his mouth felt like he had been eating sand. His skin was clammy and sticky with sweat, dried saliva, and other bodily fluids. He was fairly sure he had a swatch of rug burn on his chest and possibly face. Aaron was nowhere in sight but at least he left his blanket.
Dean got up to go rescue Sammy from the golem.
Note: Title comes from Isaiah 64:8, But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.Because I like a little blasphemy with my porn.