A/N:

THEN: (5 years ago)

Okay, folks. I know I've tagged this for explicit content.

And there's actually something like THAT in this chapter ... but not as explicit as I have written it in my other stories.

Because I just can't. And I see it as a giant miracle, that I'm actually sitting here and continuing this story, despite the fact, that I am emotionally screwed at the moment.

Trust me. This was damn hard to write ...

NOW: (Jan. 2020):

I'm still screwed 6 days from sunday, but heeeey.

Shit happens. The Winchesters survived shit, so I'm going to pull through too ;)

Gonna warn you guys.

I'm about to wrap this story up. It's gonna end soon ...

For all the loose ends I'm leaving behind ... I do that on purpose.

Here we go with another chapter I started to write 5 years ago and finished yesterday.

. And now I'm here, trying to figure out what the hell I was thinking back then XD * l o l *

This story is going to be the death of me ...

Fields of Jasmine

Chapter 38 ~ First Times

Sam was fidgeting with the hem of his dress, as he stood by the stove. With a deep sigh, he pulled the pot aside and closed his eyes for a very brief moment.

This was not working out the way he thought it would. Then again, he had thought about it, that his plan may not work out. He knew that there were always possibilities that Dean'd be too tired – too exhausted – after work.
Sadly, today was one of those days.

Again a heavy sigh fell from his soft lips and Sam shook his head.

Now, his onl yhope was, that Dean hadn't noticed the dress. Stupid thing was though, that he hadn't calculated on his plan going south, so there were no all-day-clothes somewhere around. They were all in the bedroom. In the closet.

There weren't many options at the moment.

Either he'd try his luck and hoped that Dean was too exhausted to notice that he wore a dress his mate had never seen before. Or, he'd just let himself be caught in the act. Either way was shitty.

Obviously, faith decided to take over and push him into the right direction, when the omega felt a pair of muscular arms sneak around his middle and drew him back against a bumpy soft surface and away from the stove.

Warm puffs of air let the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

There was a low hum, followed by lips pressed against the side of his neck. "Smells awesome, Sammy." Dean's voice was low and soft and promising.

It took Sam a moment to compose himself. When he spoke it was a hoarse whisper. "Yeah?"

"Looks like you didn't burn anything today." Sam could practically see his alpha's smug grin.

"How'd you know?" and before Sam had ended the sentence, he found himself pushing his ellbow backwards into Dean's ribs and a shy grin spread all over his face.

Dean grumbled something intellible. "Ow!"

His mate chuckled.

"I like that one.", Dean murmured and tugged at the fabric of Sam's new dress. "You look amazing."

"The dress's lookin' amazing.", he corrected him.

"It's lookin' amazing because it's you who's wearing it, Baby." Dean tugged his mate closer and pushed his hips forward briefly. "I like it, because it's showing your shoulders."

May it was some sort of fetish. May it was just because of Sam's soft skin. Or may it was because it was all Sam ... Who knew for real?

"'s that ... ", Dean started.

"Yeah. Figured you'd like that." Sam reached for the stove and turned it off. "Blueberry-Pie ... Ice cream ..."

The alpha made a guttural sound deep down in his throat.

Sam pushed back against his mate's crotch. "Hey! It's just pie. You should be makin' this sounds because of me and not because of food."

"That's just because food's at least as lecherous as you, baby boy." He made another low sound.

The ex-hunter earned another poke with Sam's ellbow for that.

"You know what I like even more?", he wiggled with his eyebrows.

Sam rose his left one in return. "Don't know ..."

"You. Spread out. On the bed. Wearing nothing, except for what god equipped you with."

Sam's cheeks turned a dark shade of red.

Dean could tell, despite the fact that he couldn't see his mate's face. "Tonight ... it's something special? Did I miss something?"

Sam's throat was closing up on him. A tight ball forming deep down in his stomach.

"No .."; me murmured. "Actually not ... not really."

"But you got yourself something new. - You've been cooking. You've made pie ..." It had to be something special. "It's not an anniversal."

Sam opened his mouth to say something. Anything. But he couldn't get his voice to obey.

Dean caught on it pretty fast. "Let's have dinner, shall we?" He knew whatever it was, it had to be important for Sam. So important, that it was making him nervous.

The omega nodded hastily.

He knew that Dean knew. He could feel it. Could sense it.

Hell, Sam still wasn't sure how this even worked between the both of them.

Sometimes it felt weird to know what the other one was feeling. On the other hand, it could also be a blessing, like right now.

He wasn't damned to say a single word.

Dean just knew.

They ate in comfortable silence.

More or less though.

The ex-hunter was stealing glances at Sam.

Watched him chew. The way the muscles in his throat worked when he swallowed. How his collarbones moved under milky-white skin when he reached for his glass.

It was mesmerizing and fascinating at once to him, that such a sweet being as Sam was meant to be his.

Whne they were done, Sam went to do the dishes.

Dean kept sitting at the table, watching his omega's back from tip to toe and back up.

Specially that perky butt and mile-long legs ...

Sam would be the death of him someday.

When the omega was done and was about to turn around and get everything ready for the pie-feast, his alpha was blocking the way.

Bright green eyes were staring into his.

"Nah.", Dean said, his voice low. "We can have dessert later, baby-boy."

Dean bit down on his lower lip, reaching for Sam's hand and taking it. He interwined their fingers.

"I want to take you to bed. Now." He licked his lower lip slowly, which caught Sam's attention instantly.

He didn't know about the whys and whatfors. He just felt like it.

Dean hat a feeling, that Sam couldn't possibly nudge himself into the right direction. He couldn't tell his alpha what he wanted – or needed. Not right now. It may was too important.

And maybe it had been a bit subtile from Sam – that evening, the dress, everything – but that was his way to ask for something. To tell Dean something.

And Dean Winchester dearly hoped, that he wasn't interpreting anything wrong ...

Sam swallowed hard and nodded, since he couldn't get out a single word.

He felt his heartrate increaseing. He felt it jackhammering against his chest and it pulsed so loud in his own ears, that he feared that Dean could pssibly hear it too.

Not that he wasn't aware of the physical impossibilty of it.

Sam followed his alpha, who led him out of the kitchen, through the living-area and into their bedroom.

He let Dean walk him backwards to the bed, until he felt the edge of the bed against the back of his knees.

The alpha's big calloused hands settled on his hip.

A long and tender kiss followed and before they parted, Sam found himself being laid down on top of the covers.

Dean was over him now. Not letting go of his lips, nudging him all the way up on the bed, until Sam's head was settled on the pillow.

"I want us to make love, Sam.", Dean whispered into his lover's mouth. "I'm done waiting for the right moment. For the propper day or hour or whatever." Again, he sealed his lips over Sam's, this time more demanding, more heated. "Tell me you want me to make love to you, baby."

Sam made a small desperate sound, his long arms tightening around Dean.

His alpha was talking as if he could read his mind. He was saying what Sam had wanted to say for so long and though ... each time he wanted to start the conversation he simply couldn't.

"Show me that you want it, Sam. Show me." He knew how hard it was for his omega to say simple things out loud sometimes. So he needed to give him something else to work with. That this was mutual.

Which actually seemed to work.

Sam's hands found their way under Dean's shirt, seeking soft skin. He spread his legs and wrapped them around Dean's middle, pulling him down agaisnt himself.

Which he thought couldn't be more obvious – maybe even a bit too much?

"Yeah." the alpha's voice was low and dark and soft. It held promises in itself, which Sam couldn't even imagine.

And then – just like that – it was as if their minds were melting into a single one. Knowing exactly what the other one longed for, what he felt – and needed.

It was like an all-enveloping aura surrounding the both of them.

And as promised, Dean Winchester made love to his omega.

Showing Sam what it felt to be loved the way he loved him. Odored him. Whispering sweet nothings into the omega's skin, tasting him, ravishing him like there was no tomorrow.

For once, there was nothing but the two of them and their deep obinding love how it could only be in between an alpha and his omega.

~ 67' Chevy Impala ~

The next morning was a late one.

The two of them stayed in bed until the late afternoon, except for short visits in the bathroom and getting pie from the kitchen.

Dean hummed low, as he stuffed another fork full of sweet sticky filling into his mouth.

That was one of the best pies he'd ever eaten in his entire life.

Sam was leaning heavily against his shoulder, a fork in his hand. The plate with pie sat on his alpha's lap.

"It's good.", Sam said softly, not exactly sure if he meant the pie, or the entire setting he found himself in. "I wish we could stay like that." Well, maybe he was thinking about the setting and not the food at all.

"Me too, baby boy.", Dean mumbled with a mouth full of blueberries, giving his lover a tender nudge.

A mishivious grin spread over Sam's lips.

"I think I like to have sex with you.", he said, causing Dean to nearly choke on his beloved pie.

Actually, the hunter wasn't surprised that Sam thought it, but saying it out loud? That was so not so much Sam-Like now, was it?

"Ye-e-ah?" He caughed, his voice a lot higher than usual.

He turned his head and gazed at his mate's profile for a very long time.

Sam didn't blink.

He just continued to stare at the far wall, still wearing that smirk on his face and mischief in his eyes.

"I'd like to try it in the shower, you know?" Now he turned towards his alpha, his lips twitching.

Dean nearly choked on the last few crumbs as he burst into a caughing-fit.

Sam grin widened. This was going to be so much fun ...

"What the hell, Sam?", Dean wheezed before another forceful cough erupted from within him.

"I thought you'd like that ..." It was a playful statement, obviously to tease his other half. "I think I'd like it too."

"You shouldn't be saying things like that when I'm eating, babe." The ex hunter sniffed and whiped tears from his cheeks with the back of his left hand. "You wanna kill me?"

Sam's nose twitched. "Nope. Just ..." He sighed and sniffed. "Rear you up – a little bit...", Sam added, giving his mate the biggest puppy-dog-eyes ever possible.

~ 67' Chevy Impala ~

In Robert Singer's Salvage, the bloodred moon shone upon a blonde haired, blue eyed man, his skin blistening with burn-marks under dark jeans and a flanell. Odor of rotting flesh and sulfur paving him the way into the driveway.

No devil's trap, nor any amulet preventing him from crossing the ironclad saltline.

Dean's house lay at the bac side of the salvage, due to stacks of wrecked cars shielding it from the dark reddened moon's light.

Gravel cracked underneath bare, burnt feet, small cravels sticking to the wounds and dripping down again, when he lifted one of his feet.

But it didn't matter. It didn't hurt. He didn't feel pain. Didn't feel love. He didn't feel anything, except for anger, bliss and the need to get a hold of his new vessel.

A vessel which would not burn from the insides out.

A vessel to keep him for eternity.

A vessel which wouldn't fade as time would pass.

Lucifer was going to walk earth in his one and only meatsuit.

~ 67' Chevy Impala ~

There wasn't a sound in the house.

The lock didn't clank. The front-door wouldn't squeak as it slid open. The floor board in front of their bedroom wouldn't make this unholy creaking sound as it was used to, when someone would step onto it.

There were no sounds at all.

Not in Dean's house, nor in Robert Singer's house – the whole Salvage – Yard had went still from when Lucifer hat put his foot on the old man's property past the ironclad saltline which lay hidden from everyone's sight under the dirt.

It was so unbelievably calm. Like everything went still just before the storm. ..

~ 67' Chevy Impala ~

The door to Dean's and Sam's bedroom stood ajar and slipped open at a simple, delicate gesture from the devil's hand. Utterly disgusting scent flooded the area around him like thick mist, making it hard to breathe.

Blood. Sulfur. Burnt flesh.

If there would've been any sound, you could probably have heard the screams, howls and screeches he was dragging with him all along from the depths of hell.

Lucifer stopped at the very end of the bed, taking in the scenery before him.

Two men, sleeping soft and sound beside each other. So calm and relaxed, it made his internals squeal in anticipation about what he was going to do.

Lucifer cleared his throat.

Dean and Sam were to deep asleep.

Lucifer cleared his throat again, this time lending more weight into it.

Dean roused. The sharp tang of hell invading his nostrils and settling down on his very tongue.

"Oh got, Sam … you fucking skunk ..." Dean's nose wrinkled, as the ugly smell kept on infiltrating his olfactory system. "Dude … we've got a damn bathroom – spare a man his night's sleep."

"Hey there, Dean'o.", a slightly amused voice rumbled through the room, brisking the room with a gentle but firm humm.

At the realization, that there weren't just him and his omega in the room, his eyes jerked open, in the very moment his hunter-senses kicking in.

He sat up with a jolt.

Sam still fast asleep beside him under the covers.

The hunter's heartrate doubling up at the sight of the half-burnt man standing at the end of their bed, his arms crossed in front of chest.

"There you go." The devil's smug grin sent showers down Dean's spine.

A million of questions tumbling down on him as if someone had emptied a barrel above his head, keeping them until just now.

No creature, no demon, nor heaven nor hell were supposed to have access to Bobby's property.

Dean knew he had to play it cool, swallowing down the bile of rising panik in his throat.

Whoever – whatever – this creature was, it wasn't supposed to have the authority of entrance into their sanctuary. Since he couldn't possibly make up in his sleep-hazed mind with which creature – or not creature – they could be dealing with, he needed to lay low. Not calling on the wrong move here.

It couldn't only cost his own life, but Sam's too.

"Nice one you found yourself there.", the devil mocked with a sly grin. "Sharing is caring you know? The things I would do to him if he'd be mine …" Lucifer sucked in a slithering breath between gritted teeth. Nice and slow.

Dean's eyes narrowed. His hand sneaking up on Sam's chest right above his heart beyond the covers.

The devil chuckled delighted at Dean's facial expression, telling him that there'd be no way he would let him near his mate. "Well, I guess that won't happen though, won't it, Dean Winchester?"

He kept his voice down as if not to wake Sam.

"Wo are you?", Dean's voice was steady and clinical, not giving away anything.

"You are going to let me in. Freely. And I promise I won't hurt him." Lucifer nodded his head towards the sleeping man beside Dean.

Dean huffed out a breath at the bold demand. "Why would I do that?"

"See. - We're not going to do this just now. I am going to give you some time to think about this – though you see, I'm running out auf time." The devil's look gazed down on himself and back up at Dean.

"What do you want?", Dean asked again, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I want you to say yes, Dean." The devil shrugged and smacked his lips, putting on a feral smile.

"The hell I'm gonna do." Dean scoffed.

"We'll see. You'll see ..." his feral smile widened. He snipped his fingers.

Sam stirred under Dean's hand, shifted as he was about to wake but.

But he didn't wake up. He just shifted again, seemingly getting uneasy.

Dean tore his look from the devil and it traveled down to settle on Sam's face. The soft lines of his face were shifting from the easy slumber into something more irritated.

There was a dark dripplet appearing at the very corner of Sam's mouth. Something was oozing from his mate's nose.

In the fading red moonlight, it glistened in a dark shade of scarlet.

"Sam?", Dean croaked out, trying to wrap his mind around what was just happening. In no-time he was hovering over him. "Hey."

There was more liquid oozing from his mate's orifices. His eyes, ears, nose, mouth.

Panic got a hold on the former hunter. "Sammy?!", his voice hitched.

Then he was on all four, nudging Sam onto his back.

His mate's yaw opened, and with a jolt, dozens – no HUNDREDS – of Death Moths shot out of his mouth, filling the room with absolute darkness.

... to be continued

A/N: In for a penny, in for a pound I guess ... leave me some chocolate covered bacon for this one?