Dean looked at Clint, worried about the damage the psycho-bitch inflicted. A sharp knife cut hurts like hell in even the shallowest of scratches; his own wounds were still throbbing even after Susie had healed him. Clint caught his gaze and gave him a shallow nod when Dean flicked his eyes at Brenda, ready to back any play Dean made.
"Ah, young blood really is the most powerful." She wiped at her mouth with the end of Matt's shirt and turned her attention away from the dead man. "What's that old song?" She launched into the tune with a surprisingly nice voice. "Young blood, get out of my mind. My love for you is way out of line." She stopped and laughed. "Sorry, I think that's young girl. Still, you can know a fucking lot about someone from their blood." She took a taste from both Dean and Clint's wounds, savoring each like a connoisseur, reaching into her purse for a wet wipe to clean up afterwards. Drawing out a silver flask, she unscrewed it and took a swig. "Damn, that's good. Emily's so fucked up that I have to stay sober around her or she'll freak." After another drink, Brenda sat on the edge of the table by Clint, leg swinging. "Now I know that you don't have the damn Cauldron. Blood tells. A fucking powerful thing, that pin. In the right hands, anyone with the least bit of sensitivity would know it was here. Let a weak witch like Susie get hold of it, and she could level the city. If bloody Hera finds it, well, who knows what that menopausal bitch would do? But it's still hidden somewhere. We haven't found it."
"Hera?" Dean asked.
"Holier-than-thou self-styled Queen-of-the-missionary-position Hera, dear boy. Jealous cunt thinks she can gather all three pieces of the moon." A girlish giggle escaped and she grinned, showing red stained teeth. "Seems there's a power vacuum, what with all the dead gods and powerful villains that have been ganked lately. Hera believes it's a sign for women to take over, specifically her uptight ass. Of course, she's forgotten all those she's fucked over the centuries. Thinks she can use the very people she's shit on to do it."
"Sounds like a sweetheart." Dean watched Brenda carefully as she paced. "So, why are you here?"
"Ah, now, I'm not going to frickin' hand you everything on a silver platter," She said, stopping to face him. "Besides, someone will be here soon for you boys. Wonder which ones it will be? The vamps or my boys?" She checked her watch and then her phone.
Dean pulled free of the chains Susie had weakened and launched himself at Brenda. Quick as a snake, she slipped away, dodging his charge, letting his momentum carry him past her. Lashing out, she back-handed him and carried him down to the floor with her weight, sitting on his chest to keep him immobile. She bent forward towards him and laughed merrily; her breath was spicy and alcohol-laced. Clint rolled off the table and grabbed for her, but she was simply not there when his hands reached her. Her laughter echoed from the doorway and there she stood, green eyes sparkling.
"Oh, you boys are fun!" She exclaimed. "I almost wish you luck, you know. Just for my own amusement. But there are debts to repay and the dead to deal with." She disappeared from view.
"What the hell?" Clint asked, favoring his right side as he offered Dean a hand up.
"Good to know I'm not the only one who doesn't have a clue," Dean mumbled.
Clint grabbed his weapons and phone. Dean took the backpack from Clint along with his own stuff as they exited the building into the parking lot; morning was evidently not far away as the sky was beginning to lighten despite clouds. Brenda's blue Subaru sat under the one working light. The sound of an approaching car echoed off the metal building; the industrial area was deserted except for a dark Suburban approaching at a fast speed down the small, unlined street. Breaking into a full-out run, Dean and Clint raced for the car as guns appeared in the windows of the SUV; bullets hit the concrete as they ducked behind the Subaru.
"Cover me." Clint shook open his bow and notched an arrow; Dean cocked his gun and both stood up at the same time, Dean pumping out bullets as Clint took aim. The arrow punctured the back driver's side tire of the black car; the driver fought for control, swerving dangerously close to the shoulder. He had almost straightened out when the explosion ripped through metal, gas tank blowing as the arrow detonated.
"Fucking exploding arrows?" Dean said in disbelief. "You have the coolest toys." Clint grinned.
Another squeal of tires drew their attention; appearing around a corner, the Impala took the turn at too high a speed, bounced back wheels into the grass, fishtailed and kept coming. Close behind was another SUV, a semi-automatic spitting fire out of the passenger side window.
"Damn. He better not get a scratch on my car," Dean growled, popping out the empty cartridge of the gun and slapping in a new one. "Got another trick in that bag?" Twisting his arm behind, Clint grabbed another arrow, nodded to Dean, and they both fired. The Impala veered around the burning chassis of the first car, turning into the parking lot just as the second car erupted, the blast blowing it sideways into a parking lot of another warehouse across the street.
"Get in." Coming to a stop, Sam called out of the open window. "There are cops on the way."
Both men piled into the back door, tossing the backpack onto the floor. Sam pealed out and headed the opposite direction, turning left at the first available street, and then dropping down to a reasonable speed as they drove out of the industrial park. Sirens wailed, but grew fainter as Sam turned onto a wider street. In the back seat, Dean pulled himself off of Clint who was smashing Susie against the door handle. Kate was holding on tightly in the front seat; Sam glanced in the rearview mirror.
"You guys okay?" He asked anxiously.
"We'll live," Clint answered. Dean did a quick inventory, feeling wet blood on his shirt. Despite the darkness of the car, enough light came in from outside to see that Clint's gunshot entry was bleeding. Slipping off his t-shirt, Dean wadded and held it to the wound, applying pressure. Clint put his hand over Dean's; red with Clint's blood, Dean's finger tangled with Clint's as they both held the make-shift bandage in place. The warmth of Clint's skin surprised Dean, and he felt Clint's rugged fingers flex over his own.
"Where's Matt?" Kate turned in the front seat, eyes wide as she saw the blood and wounds. Dean looked at Sam in the mirror and gave a negative shake of his head. Kate gasped and sank back down.
"Is Brenda still there? That was her car." Susie spoke for the first time. Drawing inward, she made herself small in the corner of the seat. "I hoped we'd get back to you before the others did."
"Turns out, Brenda isn't exactly human." Dean could see the shirt darkening, Clint's blood soaking through. Susie followed his eyes.
"You're bleeding." She reached for both of their hands and pulled away the bloody cloth. "I'm not sure if I can do any more than I already did, but let me see."
"He's shot," Kate told Sam after a quick look. She sat up on her knees and pulled off her t-shirt, leaving a lacy black bra. Leaning over the back of the bench seat, she offered it to Susie. "Here." Reaching as far as she could, she balanced her hips on the top edge of the seat and braced one hand between the two men, the other pressing the shirt in place. Susie grew quiet and placed her hands on Clint. Sam took a turn in the car and Kate slid towards Dean, almost crashing down. Dean propped her up, and she nodded in thanks, noticing the slices and drying blood on Dean's chest.
"What they hell did they do to you?" Kate asked, her voice low and intense. Her eyes flashed, angry, and displeasure settled across her features. Dean was surprised by the change, but then she smiled and the look was gone.
"Most of it isn't my own."
"Hold this," Kate said to him. "I'm about to fall and Sam needs directions." She took Dean's already bloody hand in hers and placed it over the cloth. Guiding Clint's hand back over Dean's, she put her small hand on top. A pulse of something, static in the air or a connection between their bodies, lanced through Dean, down and out into Clint, the pressure of Kate's hand keeping the men's from jerking away. A mysterious smirk on her lips, Kate pulled herself over the seat and back into the front of the car. Dean couldn't help but follow her movement; just before she turned around, she winked at him.
"Everything okay?" Sam asked. He'd taken them on the interstate to get away, carefully driving just above the speed limit. Concern was evident on his face as he tried to see what was happening in the backseat.
Susie took her hands away from Clint. "That's all I can do. I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this. I can heat up tea really well." She shrugged, upset that she couldn't do more. Dean eased Kate's shirt away. Red and angry, the wound had stopped bleeding.
"I'm fine." Clint sat up straighter. "No salsa dancing tonight though." He winked at Susie in way of thanks.
"Take I-79 South then get off at the Laboratory exit," Kate directed Sam, stifling a yawn with her hand. "The apartment isn't far."
"So, Brenda's … what?" Susie asked. "How could she not be human? She's been in town for years. Worked in the high school when I was there, in the drama department."
"I don't know what she is. There are a lot of things that can look like someone else, take their place." Dean carefully gathered up the bloody shirts and tucked them into Clint's back pack. With all the witches around, you couldn't be too careful. "Whoever she is, she had a real bone to pick with Hera, though."
"Hera?" Kate's question was pointed at Dean. "The Queen of Greek Gods?"
"According to Brenda, Emily was acting under Hera's orders to find the Cauldron of Hecate." Dean held on as Sam slowed down when someone pulled out in front of them from a short entrance ramp. "The Cauldron is LeMoyne's pin. And there's two more pins or talismans somewhere. What did she call it?"
"The pieces of the moon," Clint supplied. "Each piece powerful; all together super villain status. Hera wants to set herself up as queen bee, take the place of the fallen powers."
"Emily says Hera promised us power, whatever we wanted." Susie stopped and closed her eyes, overwhelmed.
"What about the vampires and the other men?" Clint let her stay silent a moment, deal with the trauma, before he asked.
"That part I don't really understand, except that Emily said Hera was using local muscle to help her. I just know that the vampires scared me. The other men came from out of town. Emily called them true believers."
"Well, Brenda was on speed dial with the vamps. She called them right after you left. First come, first served buffet for either group. The Alpha Vamp would have loved to get his hands on us." Dean interjected.
"That was who she was called? Boy, you have enemies in high places," Clint remarked. "You sure nobody's trying to sell you on ebay?"
Susie had grown quiet, turning her face towards the window, staring at the night outside. Clint noticed and turned towards her. "You tried to warn them off, didn't you? Tell them it wasn't here?" The car slowed down as Sam exited the freeway; Clint's voice was softer now. "Did you know that it would remain hidden until someone with power picked it up?"
Susie seemed to deflate, the tension of the night evident in her slumped shoulders. "I thought I could point them in the wrong direction; at first, they were blowing off steam, you know, complaining about their lives. That was the first group, a Wiccan reading group. But Emily was just sorting out those with power and those without. Pretty quickly I realized she was serious. Then I stayed because I thought I could get them out of town; if they didn't find it, they'd forget it all. Or find it and hide it from them." She let her head fall against the window. "But people are dead and Hera's going to find the Cauldron, isn't she? Matt, the people on the street, Dr. French, those boys at the college, the family…." She trailed off and lapsed into silence.
"They don't have it yet. We get to it first, then, I don't know, melt it down or throw it in a volcano or something," Dean said. He saw the now familiar amused look on Clint's face.
"Virgin sacrifices and Mount Doom aside, if we find the cauldron, I can take care of it."
"The big warehouse in D.C. with the Ark of the Covenant, right?" Dean shot back.
"The question is how we find it," Sam said as he pulled the Impala into an apartment complex, following Susie's instructions around the back, away from the view of the street, backing into a parking spot between the garbage dumpsters and a building. He cut the engine. "Look, if it's hidden until someone picks it up, the only way to find it is to track it through research. That's why they hit the underground railroad sites; they thought LeMoyne hid it in one of them. Then they went for the donated chests to the theater. We just have to figure out what they missed."
They piled out of the car into the parking lot; Dean used the pretense of reaching for the backpack to also grab Clint's bow and quiver, leaving him nothing to carry up the back stairs.
Susie spoke to Sam. "Look, I've got to go. I can keep tabs on what Emily's up to and let you know. Here's the apartment key; I stocked up a few days ago when things got really bad, just in case. They shouldn't be able to trace you here; I used a false identity to sign the lease and pay the rent." She started to walk away.
"Hey," Sam called. "You still haven't told us what your part in all this is. Why are you doing this?"
Susie looked back at them and, in the dim parking lot light, Dean thought her eyes lingered on Kate a second longer than the rest of them. "Just because I have power doesn't mean I'm a witch, you know. There are deities that aren't crazy or homicidal, and people who still worship them." With that, she turned away, heading towards a car parked under an awning.
Kate yawned, the sound loud in the night's silence, arms wrapped around her torso, shivering without her shirt. "I know we need to keep searching, but I need a few hours of sleep. Look, I can crash at Rhonda's place; her family's out-of-town for the week, and I know where they keep the key. It's not far from here. Can I get a lift?"
Clint started up the stairs to the second floor landing; Dean held back, giving Sam the "we-need-to-talk look", nothing subtle about it. "Sure," Sam said. "I'll be right there. Go ahead and get in the car."
"Something's up with your girlfriend, dude. Back there, in the car, she did some sort of hoodoo on Clint. Magic, Sam." Dean eyed his brother; Sam didn't look surprised. "She's a witch, isn't she?"
"She's not a witch," Sam argued. "She's a healer, and she told me yesterday. She helped heal people who were injured. Look, Dean, she's not involved with Emily and the others; she knows Susie. That's how we found you tonight."
"Sammy, I'm telling you, my spidey-senses are tingling. There's more to it than that."
"I agree, but she's on our side. When she's ready, she'll tell me."
"Oh, you're that close, eh? Are you sure you're not blinded by her charms?"
"Dean …."
"I think you need to keep a very close watch on her … unless you want me to do it?" Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother.
Sam eyed the stairwell where the apartment door was slightly ajar. "You've already got your hands full, so I can handle Kate." Dean dropped his eyes so Sam didn't see his blush at his brother's choice of words. "Do you trust Clint?" Sam asked.
"He saved my life a couple times in the last 24 hours. For a government type, he's not all that bad." Dean was beginning to have his doubts about the whole homeland security thing, but not about the man himself. "And I'll admit that he has cool toys."
"Batman," Sam said.
"No, more like Bond, James Bond." Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Look, we'll regroup in the morning. Watch yourself. Bring breakfast. Something greasy with sausage. None of that health crap you eat." He gave his brother an affectionate slap on the back in parting.
The apartment was small, but nice, and the refrigerator and cabinets were stocked. The end unit's door opened towards the wooded hillside with little chance of prying eyes catching a glimpse of anyone coming or going. Susie had planned her bolt hole well.
Clint came out of the bathroom, drying his face on a towel, as Dean took a beer out of the fridge. "You should wash up first." He nodded towards Dean's face and tossed him the towel. Setting the beer down, Dean headed into the surprisingly nicely appointed room, a double sink vanity, soaking tub, and tiled stand-up shower, a step-up from the usual places he stayed. The mirror showed red smears down the left side of his face, across his mouth and along the red line of scar on his right cheek. Spatters of Matt's blood ranged down his right side and Clint's blood was drying on his hands.
"Well, that's attractive." He used another towel and washrag, cleaning off his face and hands. "I hope there's no blood in the car."
When Dean came out, Clint was leaning against the breakfast bar, a half-empty bottle in his hand, notebook powered up next to him, reading intently.
"Man, why didn't you tell me I looked like the Joker?" Dean demanded as he picked up the bottle he'd left out and drank a long swig. "I'm going need to hose down to get all this off."
"She did a number on us both." Clint scrolled the screen with his thumb then tapped to open a new file. "I'm going to enjoy wiping off the stench of her crazy."
"Well, if she's working for Hera, I'd say they're made for each other. Vengeful spouse from hell with randy hubby. I bet you a chili cheeseburger that Emily's husband ran off with another woman."
"His daughter's third grade teacher, 24-years-old, quite a looker. They got custody of the kids and moved to St. Louis. Court records show that Emily was pretty much stalking them when they were here; she continued to make threatening calls and harass them even after they left. A restraining order was issued about nine months ago." Clint read from the file he opened. "No bet there. But you can buy me a breakfast burrito in the morning."
"Sam's bringing something when he comes back."
"You warned him about Kate before you came up?"
Dean nodded. "She told him she was a healer like Susie, not a witch. He bought it. Thinking with his other head. Said he'd be careful."
Clint almost choked on his beer when he laughed, then swallowed. "Could be true, the healer part. The gods are fond of granting abilities to their followers, especially priest or priestesses. The Vestal Virgins are treated like rock stars and have psychic powers. Artemis gives the Amazons their strength and skills in battle."
"Oh, let's not go there," Dean muttered and drank a long swig, finishing off the beer. He noticed that Clint always talked about the gods in present tense. "So what does Hera give her followers? Bondage lessons?"
"Happy marriages, children, fertility …. Actually her priestesses are often midwives. But she also offers vengeance for cheating and abusive spouses. She's one of the three goddesses associated with the phases of the moon and the blood cycle."
"Well, Emily certainly liked blood." Dean got two more bottles and passed one over to Clint. "Let me guess, Hecate is one of the other two?"
"Hecate and Artemis. Artemis is the virgin, the young woman, the waxing of the moon. Hera, the wife and mother, the full moon. Hecate is the waning and dark of the moon, the crone, but not necessarily an old woman. More like the wisdom and knowledge of age. She's supposed to be very beautiful."
"A goddess you haven't met yet? Did she miss mix-and mingle night?" Dean jabbed. "She's the goddess of magic, right? Cauldrons are associated with witches."
"Magic and power over death and the underworld. She helped bring Persephone back after Hades kidnapped her."
"So which of the other two are Susie and Kate working for? That's the million dollar question." Dean moved towards the bar. "God, I hope it's not Artemis. Amazons are already on my shit list."
"Has to be Hecate." Clint answered. "Kate, well, we're pretty sure she's not a virgin and healing is Hecate's area. The birth control pills, big box of condoms, and K-Y in the drawer say Susie isn't either. Artemis is militant about the sex thing." Clint sat the notebook down on the counter, winching as he twisted to lay it down behind him. Dean noticed.
"Alright, enough. We need to get you cleaned up and bandaged. The rest can wait." Dean tossed the empty bottles in the trash. Clint gave him a measured look and the temperature in the room went up as heat passed between them. Pushing away the memory of his hand against Clint's skin, Dean moved to where the light was brighter, facing him. He dropped his gaze to Clint's arm; the puncture wound was puckered, angry red skin surrounding it. The deepest slash on his chest, cutting across purpling bruises left by punches, was covered in a trail of dried blood. Of all the damage, the gunshot was the most surprising; the scar was fading, weeks old in look.
"Kate's work," Dean said as he examined the injury. "She's more powerful than Susie."
"Yeah, I felt it." With a light touch, Clint brushed the cuts on Dean's arm and chest before he settled his hand under Dean's chin, tilting the face for a better view. "More like electricity than healing." Already looking faint, the laceration across Dean's cheek was almost gone. Clint ran his thumb across the hint of a scar; Dean's lips parted as arousal slammed his gut. Not that the thought of Clint's mouth on him had been buried that far beneath the surface, but, standing bloody chest to bloody chest, Clint's head angled up to see his, Dean began to harden, straining against the zipper of his jeans. His fingers itched to feel Clint's skin again, to see if that pulse of fire was all Kate's doing or something else. Neither of the men said anything for a few heartbeats. Clint's fingers stayed in place; Dean clinched his hands as the urge for more grew.
"Damn it." Clint dropped his hand and shoved away from the bar. He strode towards the bathroom door. "I need a shower." With more force than he needed, he slammed into the room, door swinging back open behind him. Dean stood still, exhaling as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control the desire that rolled through him. He should let it go, ignore the need that was evident and demanding action, but the sounds of shoes hitting the floor, the slide of fabric against fabric, were followed by the patter of the shower, water hitting tiles. As he opened his eyes, the door remained ajar, inviting. He grew even harder, an almost painful yearning to feel wet skin against wet skin.
"Fuck." With an explosive curse, he stalked towards the door, kicking his boots off by the couch. The small corner of his brain that had resisted gave up, overwhelmed and beaten by hunger for release. He crossed the threshold and closed the door to the small room.
The shower door was glass, Clint clearly silhouetted under the interior light. Resting his forearms against the wall, his head was bowed under the stream of water, dripping off his chin. Dean could see the muscles bunched under Clint's shoulders, his spine running down to two indentions in the small well of his back. Water poured, over the curve of ass, down his thighs. His erection was evident, thrusting forward; Dean's mouth went dry as Clint shifted, lifting his head, face up to the spray. The heat from the water began to steam the air, condensation starting on the mirror; Clint turned and looked directly at Dean, and a spark flowed between them.
Without breaking eye contact, Dean pushed his jeans and briefs, stepping out of them as they slid to the floor, freeing himself. The smile that played on Clint's mouth as he eyed Dean drew a soft growl from Dena's lips as he opened the door and stepped inside the shower. Dropping his arms from the wall, Clint made room for Dean behind him.
"Just don't hog the damn soap," Dean said as he reached his arms around and splayed his hands on the wall, bringing his chest against Clint's back. He hissed as his erection bumped Clint's ass. With a groan, he let go of any control left, bent his head and kissed Clint's neck, parting the water with his lips. When Clint braced himself with his own hands, Dean moved his to cover them, slipping his fingers between Clint's. Trailing upward, he sucked on Clint's ear lobe; he got a tang of blood from Emily's earlier bite and, without thinking, flicked his tongue out to lick it off.
"God." Clint's voice was half-whisper, half-beg, emboldening Dean. Bending slightly, he began a rhythm, sliding his hard length between Clint's cheeks, sensitive head bumping against Clint's balls, making thigh muscles clench. The tightening almost made Dean come, and he dragged in a ragged breath, mouth still against Clint's ear. Rising and falling with each increasing thrust, Dean's chest slid across Clint's back. But it wasn't enough; Dean wanted more. With a primal sound, he pulled back and turned Clint around, driving Clint back, raising Clint's arms and latching hands around the wrists, just below the red rope burns, pinning him against the wall. For a second he could see Clint tied to that table, and, hell, that turned him on in ways he hadn't thought of. Mouth descended and plundered, an aggressive kiss that demanded Clint part his lips, giving Dean's tongue access to taste. Heads tangled, tilting and shifting for more access, breaking for breaths before returning for more. The water poured down Dean now, splitting at his shoulders to run between their bodies.
Passing Clint's wrists to his left hand, Dean freed his right. Arms stretched above his head, Clint couldn't touch Dean, and he struggled to lower his hands.
"Sorry," Dean said, "but I like you this way." Sliding his hand down Clint's chest, softly to avoid the wounds, his fingers slid around Clint's hard cock, a gentle reprise of Emily's painful grope. Stroking the tip with his thumb, Dean smiled as Clint's eyes closed. "She was right. We are pretty simple really. A few strokes, a blow job, a good fuck …"
"Dean." Clint made the name both a gasp of pleasure and a question. Fingers continuing their gentle touch, Dean watched Clint arch his back and felt him strain forward for more before he kissed him again, a different kind of kiss this time, one filled with promise, less hurried. He sucked on Clint's bottom lip, licked the teeth marks before slipping his tongue instead for a slower, languid pass. Passion, already at the peak, kept building even higher.
With a curse, Clint gain tried to pull his hands free, and this time, Dean let him as he sank down on his knees, hands finding Clint's hips as Dean took Clint into his mouth, a slow, sensual contact of lips and tongue. Setting a languid pace, Dean sucked gently, tasting the saltiness, enjoying the sounds Clint made as he involuntarily began to thrust his hips, urging Dean to go faster. With a groan, Clint's hands clasped Dean's head and pulled him upwards, bringing their mouths back together, slamming Dean's back onto the opposite wall, pinning him down. Pressing their bodies into full contact, hip to hip, Clint deepened the kiss Clint' rubbed his erection against Dean's hard cock with a steady motion, their hips moving in rhythm with each other. The sensation blew through Dean, erotic and exciting, driving him to his limit; he groaned and dropped his head, panting, increasing the speed until he felt Clint explode before he followed with a shattering climax. They rested against the wall, bodies still entwined together.
"See?" Dean asked, chest heaving. "Simple." He felt Clint's laugh in his body, still pressed together.
Clint stepped back and reached for the soap. With a casual motion, he lathered up his hands, and began washing Dean's chest, cleaning up the last of the blood.
"You used up all the hot water," Dean groused. "And it's girly shampoo. I'm gonna smell like … lilacs. Great."
"Quit whining and turn around."
"Okay, so Hera's gets Emily, promises her what she wants most, revenge, power. Susie and Kate worship Hecate, do magic, and are working against Hera. Then we have Brenda, unknown quantity. Vamps work for Hera and the other dudes are religious zealouts."
Clint watched as Dean's towel rode dangerously low on his hips. Leaning against the doorway to the bedroom, Clint enjoyed the view as Dean wandered in the kitchen.
"Brenda's made a separate deal with at least the vamps and intends to sandbag Hera because of old history." Dean rooted through the cabinets in search of food as the dryer cycled, cleaning their clothes. Dean scavenged a box of cheese crackers and jar of peanut butter from the cabinet, twisting off the lid and using the cracker as a scoop. He popped on into his mouth, tasted, then shrugged, and ate another. Watching him eat was amusing, Clint realized, as Dean stuffed a couple more crackers into his mouth. Damn fine mouth too, he remembered and half-smiled.
"What?" Dean mumbled with his mouth full. He offered the jar to Clint. "Want some?"
"No, thanks." He shook his head. "The other two attacks. D.C., it was werewolves. Rome, arachne. All monsters associated with the Greek gods. Want to bet Hera where thinks the other two parts of the moon are?"
"They don't know where their own pieces are? Someone else hid them. Made it so they can't find them." Dean shook his head, disgust evident on his face. "Damn gods. Can't they just do something simple and straight forward for once?"
"Not enough family drama and angst if you just kill someone, I guess."
Dean continued opening cabinets until he hit the ones under the bar. "Pay dirt!" Pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniels, he collected two glasses he'd spied early and filled them with ice. Passing the glasses to Clint, he juggled the crackers, jar, and bottle, carrying them back into the bedroom and depositing them on the small computer table. He poured for both of them and tossed the first glass back; the whiskey was smooth with a kick as it went down, and Dean filled the glasses up again as soon as they were empty. "A couple more of these are definitely in order."
Clint matched Dean on the second round, but sipped the third slowly, savoring the liquid warmth on his tongue. Still standing by the door, he let his mind wander away from the case, thinking instead of the man in front of him, the strong hand rattling the ice in his glass, silver ring clicking on the bottle as he topped off. Watched him rest the glass on his lip, tip it up, whiskey sliding over the rim, his tongue slipping along the glass to catch any drops. If he kissed him now, Dean would taste like the drink, and peanuts, and … Clint let himself imagine the feel of Dean, and he stirred again, heat beginning to build.
Dean closed the jar and box, dropping into the desk chair; with legs spread apart, the towel pulled, leaving his left leg exposed almost all the way up to the hip. Casually reaching for the bottle, he filled his glass, the sound of the dryer tumbling coming from the bathroom; if Clint didn't know better, he'd think Dean was deliberately baiting him into acting. Settling his glass on the dresser, Clint wondered at himself. Usually he preferred action to thinking, so why was he hesitating? Dean had clearly taken the initiative earlier in the shower.
Decided, Clint closed the distance between them and leaned down, pausing before he brushed his lips across Dean's. The taste of whiskey passed between them, smooth and deep, intoxicating. The touch deepened, easy and slow, caress of sensitive skin, a mingle of whiskey-laced breaths. Clint explored the line of Dean's mouth, kissing the corners, and grazing the tip of his tongue along the bottom. With a final sweep, he pulled back and tossed his towel away, reaching for Dean's, intentionally allowing his fingers to drag along the inner thigh and brush against Dean's crotch before he yanked it off. With a quick lift of Dean's hips, the towel was free.
"I've decided towels are evil," Clint said with a laugh, as he gathered them up and went to throw them in the bathroom. Returning, he threw the box of condoms on the bedside table; Dean's eyes widened when he saw them, the implication clear. With a steady gaze, he looked back at Clint, tongue nervously darting out to lick his lips. Straddling the chair, Clint sat down on Dean's legs, bringing their bodies into contact. "I believe you said something about a good fuck," he murmured, easing his hands into Dean's hair, holding his face steady and tilting it up slightly before kissing him again. This kiss was rougher, filled with more need, fueled by the dangers of the night and the thought of blood and tied hands. A sense of survival, the menace of the job combined with a desire to feel alive, to be with someone else who knew and understood. Tongues tangled as Clint ran his thumb along Dean's chin, feeling the day-old stubble, skimmed across the cheek bone, both stirring and hardening together. Dean's hands slipped around Clint's waist, grazing up and back down, leaving a trail of heat behind his fingertips; he let his thumbs linger at the base of the spine, spreading his fingers as he circled Clint's ass, squeezing and lifting. Groaning, Clint lifted his mouth away and drew his hands down to Dean's chest, circling each nipple with a thumb, watching as Dean's head fell back, eyes closed with pleasure, breaths coming faster.
Pushing back, Clint slid off, dropping between Dean's knees, letting his hands drag down Dean's chest and onto his thighs. Angling forward, he brought his lips to Dean's chest, mouth tasting the skin, tongue tracing the sensitive nipples, nipping with his teeth to make Dean growl and grab Clint's hands, covering them with his own. Working downward, Clint licked and tasted, occasionally adding a light bite to make Dean jump and moan; he liked the way the skin smelled, lilac and soap, a whiff of whiskey and sweat. Parting Dean's legs further, he brought his mouth down and over Dean's length, slipping his lips along the shaft, lightly at first, then with increasing pressure; he paused to trace the curve of the head with his tongue and suck the drop at the top. Dean's hands clasped around the nape of Clint's neck, burying his fingers in hair; panting, Dean let his hands ride the motion of Clint's head as his mouth nursed Dean.
When Clint's mouth left, leaving him hanging, Dean sucked in a breath and asked, "Clint?" Reaching into the table drawer, Clint removed the tube of lotion and then took out a foil packet. He held it up, letting Dean make the decision. "Tingling? What the hell is that?" Dean said as he took the bottle, popped it open then looked at the packet. "Ribbed for her pleasure?" Clint shrugged and laughed as Dean ripped it open with sure hands. "Susie has interesting tastes."
Dean's hands shook as he opened the tube and smeared his hand with the cold gel, using the other to drag Clint's mouth back to his. His cock aching, side by side with Clint's, pressed against their bellies, Dean tilted back in the chair, slipping his finger down Clint's ass, circling the tight hole and easing inside. Damn, but Clint was tight and hot, and his tongue darted into Dean's mouth, pushing in to Dean just as Dean was pushing into him. Hands on either side of Dean's head, Clint's kiss grew more demanding, his hips rising as Dean slid out and back in. As he felt Clint relax, Dean added a second finger and Clint growled in response.
"Damn, Dean, god that feels good," he murmured as Dean pushed harder with each move.
"I can't, not much longer," Dean ground out, sweat beading on his forehead as he held his climax in check. Pulling his fingers out of Clint, Dean fumbled for the packet.
"Then fuck me now." Clint reached the condom first, slipping it over Dean's cock and rolling it down.
"Jesus," Dean mumbled as Clint's fingers tickled him before adding a layer of lubricant. Playfully, Clint rubbed his hands across Dean's chest, blowing lightly at the glistening trail. "Tingling, yet?" he asked when Dean's eyes closed; he dropped a light kiss on his parted lips. Straddling Dean, Clint positioned himself, and Dean put his hands on Clint's hips. Using a hand as a guide, Clint lowered himself slowly, easing down, inch by inch. With Dean slowly stretching and filling him, Clint drew in a sharp breath, hands digging into Dean's chest as muscles in his thighs began to shake. Rising again, he began a rhythm, a little further and deeper each time; Dean's hands griped Clint's ass, urging him faster, lifting with each thrust. Brushing against Dean's stomach, Clint's erection ached for release; Dean's hand reached for Clint, encircling his length, moving smoothly up and down between them. With each plunge, Clint lost more control, heat swamping his body, sweat breaking out as bodies came together then parted again. Driven, Clint shifted and Dean brushed against the spot, sensation shattering through him; he moved his hand to clasp Dean's, urging him faster, their fingers entwined around his length as he climaxed. With a few more thrusts, Dean joined him with a raw cry as he came.
Sagging, Clint dropped his forehead against Dean's; both men struggled to breathe in the aftermath. Brushing lips, Clint kissed Dean gently; sweat began to cool. He didn't want to separate, but Clint finally did, standing up and heading to clean up. Clint finally stretched on the bed, linking his hands behind his head; Dean climbed in next to him a few minutes later, sprawling on his stomach.
"Remind me to take the garbage out in the morning," he mumbled, eyes already drifting closed. Nodding, Clint rolled on his side next to Dean and let himself fall asleep.