A/N: A reader warned me via private message she would go insane if I waited three weeks to update with another chapter so in the interest of her mental health, here's another offering. Hope you enjoy. FYI, I am working on a RPF Jensen/Jared Story at the same time as I'm doing this one so that's why updates are taking so long.
DUBCON with forest couple-Be Warned!
*
*
Dean didn't take the car.
The Impala's still parked outside the motel, chrome shining in the midday sun and Sam beelines for it, scanning the trees and the road automatically, looking for any sign, any clue as to where Dean might have gone. He dials Bobby's number fast as he's moving, creaking open the car door and jumping in, throwing it in reverse and backing out as he's talking.
"Bobby, it's Sam. Dean's in trouble. I need to know all you can find out about Pan, the Greek God…Yeah, Bobby, I know it's a myth, problem is, I think that myth is possessing Dean."
He explains some of it, leaves out most of it but gives Bobby enough to get started and hangs up, squealing out of the driveway and onto the road, tromping on the gas, urging the car to go faster. He grips the steering wheel hard, his heart pounding a frantic beat in his chest, and panic starts to swirl around him, through him, clutching his breath tight in a cold, hard fist until he's gasping with it. Shit! He punches the steering wheel, shit, shit! How long had that thing been inside Dean? And how in the hell had it happened? If Dean touched the flute, at most, he should've just been sex-crazed but this-
Sam thinks back, remembering-
When Dean had rolled him over, Sam had still been tingling from the awesome orgasm he'd just had, still reeling from the suddenness of Dean taking him fast and rough and he hadn't caught the change, not at first, at least not until Dean spoke. Then, he'd reached out, touched the hair on Dean's chest and realized something was wrong, really wrong and Sam's gaze had narrowed, looking at Dean carefully for the first time since he'd come home and a thrill of fear shot through him at the sinful lust staring back at him.
Dean's face looking down at him, had…changed…the eyebrows were heavier, his hair thicker, more sensual, curling almost around his face, his five o'clock shadow darker, fuller, sideburns grown in and curving down those sculpted cheekbones and those eyes-
Christ, those eyes…
Alight with internal flames, they flickered and danced at him, beckoning Sam to come along and delight in the erotic corruption, the wicked desire that Dean exuded, that pulsed out of every pore in his skin. Dean was sex incarnate, shimmering, almost glowing with passion, licking his lips as his eyes roamed over Sam's body, hungry, savage, like he wanted to feast on every part of him and bring Sam to ecstasies he'd only ever dreamt about.
"Dean, what the hell-" had been all Sam had managed before Dean knocked him unconscious.
Nope, Dean had done more than just touch that flute and Sam needed to find out what and the only person who knew that was the last person to see Dean whole and human, the stupid fucking keeper of the instrument and the person who owned the cabin Sam was just now skidding into.
James.
*
He meets Sam at the open doorway, the wood of the door itself lying off its hinges inside and Sam bites back a grin as he takes in the demolition only his angry brother could do. James has a bloody towel wrapped around one hand and his nose is swollen huge, the spark in his blue eyes deadened as he runs his other hand around the back of his neck, rubbing at the tension.
"I knew you'd be coming." James's voice is quiet, resigned.
"What the hell did you do to Dean?"
"Sam-" James starts and stops, shaking his head at himself with a rueful grin and shrugging, "He was being such an asshole that I just wanted to show him what had gone on, wanted him to feel it, too, like we did. He fought it off pretty good, I have to admit. He's got an impressive will."
His words touch a sense of foreboding in Sam's gut and he examines James more closely, the other man clearing his throat and avoiding his eyes, the smile on his lips almost sad, a lost opportunity sad and Sam narrows his gaze, mouth tightening as he feels the first stirrings of jealousy deep inside his heart.
"Did you try to fuck Dean, James? And he said no?"
The blue eyes meet his and Sam sees the truth in them without James having to say a word.
"Did you touch him, James?" Sam steps closer, his shoulders hunched and one side of his mouth ticking up, eyes hard, possessive and angry, and rage is slashing through him now, deep and cutting, but he needs to know it all, needs James to say it.
James clears his throat again and nods, searching Sam's face for reaction and at Sam's sharp intake of breath he winces, bracing himself for another punch.
"Did he-did he touch you back?" Sam forces himself not to swing, not to move but to ask the question, his pained whisper all he can manage and the air presses down on him, heavy, sluggish as he waits, trembling, for the answer.
"No, Sam. He didn't. He said I wasn't his type and ran out the door."
Breath flows back into him and he's sucking in a deep pull of air, relief in every bone and he can think again, feel again and now he knows how Dean must have felt when Sam told him about James in the first place. Like he was going to suffocate and die with the jealousy sweeping through him and he silently promises Dean that when this is over, he's gonna show Dean with his tongue and his mouth and his hands just how much Sam loves him, how much he needs him so Dean understands and never has to feel threatened again.
He nods, giving James a tremulous smile and mutters, "That's good...that's…" and he gives himself a mental shake, Dean's still in trouble so he can be the jealous lover later, right now, he's gotta focus on the job.
"Tell me what happened."
*
"So Dean took the flute?" Sam asks, looking around the living room for it.
James nods and shrugs, "I think so. He knocked me down and he was out the door and speeding away before I got up but he must have – the only thing I found is the parchment it was wrapped in." And he gestures to where Dean dropped it.
Sam glances at it and away, then his eyes move back, his gaze sharpens, "Wait-" and he picks it up, holding it gingerly by one corner, half of him expecting to hear the hooves clattering on the stone and the gentle tone of the pan pipes surrounding him. He pauses, anticipation in every nerve but when nothing happens, he takes the other corner by the tips of his fingers and carries it to a small desk, spreading it out carefully. James follows behind and stares over Sam's shoulder at the marks on the leather.
"It's writing…" James mutters and Sam reaches out to flick on the lamp, giving more light so they can see the faint lettering.
"Some kind of weird language, not Latin or anything I've seen before." Sam chews on the inside of his cheek, eyes straining to make out anything legible.
"It's Arcadocypriot Greek, looks like." And at Sam's incredulous look, James blinks back, "What? It's my speciality, remember?"
"Can you read this?" Sam asks hopefully.
"Not off the top of my head but I've got some books that I may be able to use to get you a decent translation. It's gonna take me some time, though."
"How much time?"
"Sam, I don't know. I've never done this before."
Sam nods, "It'll go faster with two of us. Get the books and let's get to work."
*
He hears the couple walking along the path underneath him and he silently swings down to a lower branch, toes curling around the bark to keep his balance. He has legs and feet now, instead of hooves and it's taking a little getting used to but the body he's in is strong, virile and, he runs a hand down over his member, nicely gifted. The people below are arguing, angry gestures punctuating their harsh words, the woman almost shrieking at the man and it hurts his ears…they should be touching each other in love, exploring each other - don't they know their bodies were made for that very purpose? He shakes his head at them, oh, what pleasures they're missing, what delicacies they're not sampling…
With a decisive snort, he lifts the flute to his mouth and plays a short burst of sweet music. The two below barely pause in their vicious fight so he crouches lower and plays louder, a longer song, the birds in the trees echoing the tune. Ah, that got their attention. They've fallen silent, looking around to find the source, the beginning of that soft melody and he gives another trill and another, until the woman swipes a hand around the back of her neck and loosens the buttons of her shirt from around her throat.
The man is staring at her now, reaching out, pulling the pins out of her hair and letting it fall, flow around her face and she's a beautiful creature, so alive and so vibrant, it's all he can do not to swing down and take her for himself. But no, this man needs the warmth of her wrapped around him, needs to plow the field and plant his seed, needs to show her the magic of her own body…
He twitters another scale, faster, fingers flying over the flute, seven reeds in all now, easily created with a wave of his hand once he had the remnant, faster and louder, watching the man pull the maiden forward, claiming her mouth and she fights, yes, but that's part of the game, part of the dance and he plays louder-
Down below him, the man takes her rough, ripping at her clothes and forcing her naked body down onto the forest path, holding down her arms while he suckles at her breast, spreading her legs wide and possessing her as she cries out her need and her want, bucking into her and finally, she meets him there, begging him for more, for release-
His fingers play the notes in time to the man's thrusting hips, in time to the woman's passionate whimpers and suddenly, they reach nirvana, frozen in time, muscles clenched in orgasm, rocking and writhing together in the final dance and he lets his notes fall away, the birds suddenly silent and even the air is still, waiting, watching.
The man pulls back and looks down at the woman, horrified, scrambling to his feet and pulling up his pants over his limp, dripping member, speaking words of apology, of remorse and the woman is gathering up her clothes silently, trying her best to redress herself with what tattered remains she can find but there's not much left. The man takes off his shirt and puts it around her shoulders and she looks up at him, love flowing out of her and reaches up an arm, pulls him down for a deep kiss. He jerks back for a moment of surprise and then he kisses her back, long and lazy and when they leave his forest, their arms are wrapped around each other and their voices are low, earnest, like lovers should speak to each other.
He reaches down and strokes himself, already hard and wanting, the coupling below having aroused him to fever pitch and he thinks about this vessel's brother, so welcoming and warm, taking him into his body and letting him possess, letting him control…
He may have to visit the brother again, soon, because this hardness has to be addressed, taken care of and he can't think of a nicer place to be than buried in that gorgeous man's hot, tight channel, his fist pulling on the other's shaft as he protests and begs for mercy, that sweet mouth whimpering and gasping out his pleasure-
Sam. The brother's name is Sam.
*
"Hey, Bobby. What'd you find out?" Sam listens to the voice on the other end, "Yeah, there's a piece of the actual panpipe here and Dean touched it." He listens again, "Just a second, I'll ask…"
Sam covers the receiver, "Did Dean blow into the pipe?"
James's eyes go wide and he nods emphatically as he remembers, "Yes! Yes, he did!"
Sam closes his eyes, "Shit." And he's back talking to Bobby, "Yeah, Bobby, he did."
And he winces at the invectives being hurled through the phone at him, "Man, Bobby, it's not my fault! I wasn't with him. Because he needed to be alone, ok? Yeah, I know, we're both idjits. Listen, we found what looks to be a binding spell written on the parchment the flute was wrapped in. We're translating it now. Who's we? Oh, me and a professor from Stanford, he's an expert in…Yeah, it's his flute. Ok, I'll tell him." And Sam hangs up.
"Tell me what?"
Sam gives him a crooked grin, "That you're an idjit, too, because you didn't keep it away from human contact. Bobby says all you had to do was not let anybody touch it and no harm would have come. But once a tortured soul blows into it, it summons Pan himself to come forward, possess whomever has played the tune and binds them inside, so that Pan can use their body to wreak havoc on unsuspecting victims."
"So, that's what happened to Dean? Pan's taken over his body and doing what? Making people senselessly fuck each other?"
They both stare at each other in dawning comprehension and Sam sputters, "Christ, that would be-"
James rolls his eyes and gives a cheeky grin, "An awesome sight, actually…"
Sam scootches his chair back into the desk and hunkers down, "Fuck, man, that's my brother we're talking about! We need to get this shit translated so we can save him and send Pan back into whatever dimension he needs to go back to, ok? So, come on!"
And James sits next to him, pulling his chair closer, bumping shoulders as he settles and Sam feels it but shakes it off, pulling the volume of lore towards him and painstakingly translating another few symbols. The nudge against his knee catches his attention and he turns his head, James face so close he can feel the other man's breath on his face.
"Sam-"
James seems uncertain, troubled when Sam looks back at him expectantly and he's stuttering out the question, "I know you and Dean have, I mean, I know you and he, well..." He gives a sigh, "I just want you to know that I'm still, I mean, interested, um, if you are."
And he slides a hand over Sam's thigh, warm and tender, blue eyes easing across his face and whispers, "No questions asked. Just want you, you know?"
Sam thinks again how much James is like Dean, struggling with emotions, with words, child-like in ways and so strong in others and he wishes for a moment that he didn't love Dean so he could make this man happy and finally give him what he wants, what he's wanted from Sam for years.
And then, without thought, Sam bends forward and kisses the other man's mouth, gently so as not to bump his broken nose, a sweet kiss that's meant as an apology and as a goodbye. James's hand slides around his neck and pulls him closer, trying to open his lips, slide his tongue in but Sam's pulling back, shaking his head and tugging the arm off.
James sees the sadness and caring in Sam's eyes and his gaze echoes it, staring into Sam, nodding his understanding, his acceptance. When James finally speaks, his voice is hoarse, rough, "I sure hope your asshole brother appreciates you someday."
Sam smiles at him, "Don't worry. He does."
Another shared look, another sad smile and they wordlessly go back to work.
*
Night comes quickly to the forest.
The brother is inside the cabin, the scent of him strong in Pan's nose and he watches with bated breath as the pair of men sit at the table, writing. His shaft is hard with need and he works it with a hand, watching the brother, the Sam, lick his lips as he works and he wants to bite and suck on those lips, wants them wrapped around him, wet and slippery, wants to spread his seed into that mouth, watching the Sam swallow every drop.
He sees the brother sit back and throw down his quill, standing up to stretch the length of him, leaning backwards and Pan is alert, eyes roving over the delicious body he's tasted before, a peek of skin at the Sam's belt enticing him, calling to him.
The brother speaks to the other man earnestly, nodding and gesturing at the table and finally, taking a square out of his pocket, opening it and pressing onto it with a thumb. He puts the square to his ear-
Loud raceous noise from behind Pan has him snorting in alarm and he's clawing at his pants, the noise coming from him, eyes wild with panic and the pocket rips open, the square screaming his location to every forest creature within ear shot.
*
Sam hears Dean's phone, it's right outside, and he's stumbling towards it fast, hitting the porch running, following the music to some bushes right at the edge of the woods surrounding James's cabin. He picks it up, disappointment rearing up, Damn it, Dean, where the hell are you, and then he sees the footprints and slide marks, leading back into the woods and he knows-
Dean was here, watching them-
"Dean!" Sam yells, "I know you're there! Let me help you…"
Silence answers him, the night creatures strangely quiet, waiting for something-
*
The brother is calling to him, bading him to come and he steps out into the moonlight, to give him a glimpse, a shadow and then pulls back.
*
"Dean!" Sam sees him, just there, crouched behind a grove of trees and runs forward, gets there but Dean is gone and he looks around frantically, the full moon shining plenty of light over the forest and there, just ahead, Dean's peeking out from behind a huge cedar tree, hands gripping the trunk tightly. In a blink of an eye, he's gone and Sam is a second too late, a step behind and he looks around again and then Dean's beckoning to him, come and get me, Sam, smiling at him, eyes glittering out into the night.
Dean leads him deeper into the forest and Sam knows it's a trap but he can't stop himself, he has to follow those eyes and when he comes to the clearing, he knows he's at least a half mile away from James's cabin, pretty much lost in the woods and turning in circles, looking around for another glimpse of Dean.
The trill of the flute reaches his ears, it's above him and he looks up and there's Dean, crouched on a low hanging branch, shirtless, pants unbuttoned, unzipped and his dick is standing at attention, erect and heavy with need, with lust-
Dean holds the flute to his lips and Sam sees it's whole now, seven reeds instead of just the one, and his brother blows it lightly, the melody fluttering out over the air, shimmering up and down Sam's spine, flicking and tingling at his skin, stealing Sam's breath away as he stares up at the stunning creature above him.
God, so beautiful, so fucking gorgeous, sizzling with heat and those eyes hold his, dark and intense, flames of lust dancing there, daring Sam to come to him, offering passion and lust and searing heat, promising to take Sam higher than he's ever gone before-
The fire in his cock is instantaneous, scorching him, the lilting tones becoming strident, insistent and Sam takes a step forward, can't stop himself, he's so hot, so steamy, so fucking horny he can't think, can't fight because the notes are working into his brain, tickling into the deepest recesses and making him squirm over the rock-hard erection that's shot up out of nowhere.
He's sweating, gasping and Dean jumps down in front of him, blowing into the flute more slowly now, lazy and he gives Sam a sensuous grin, pushing the panpipe into a back pocket and staring up into Sam's eyes, hypnotizing him and Sam feels like he's drowning in the hot fire of that gaze.
"Do you want to know how I found you, brother?" Pan asks, voice low and sensual, licking at the nerves along Sam's skin, giving him goose bumps all over his body.
Sam can't speak, can only nod, totally under the flute's spell and Pan leans closer, breathing hotly into Sam's ear, making him shiver with delight, with anticipation, "I can smell you on my fingers…your delicious scent all over my hands, ummm…"
And Dean leans back so Sam can see, putting his fingers to his nose, inhaling deeply and then licking each one, tongue sliding along, eyes boring a hole into Sam's and Sam can't breath-
His dick gives a throb, straining against the denim of his jeans and Jesus Christ, that's the fucking hottest thing he's ever seen-
"Touch me." Pan commands and Sam reaches out, grasping the heavy dick in front of him, giving it a slow pull up and hands grip his shoulders painfully, digging into him, "Harder…faster…"
"No-" Sam shakes his head, whimpering, trying to keep control.
"You don't say no to me, brother. You can't resist me."
"Dean…want Dean…give me Dean and I'll do it…" Sam is shaking with tension, trying to hold himself back, trying not to give in and let go.
"You want your brother? And I get to watch? Hmmm…I'll do it but only if you take him in your mouth - I want to see your lips working him, swallowing him down. I've been dreaming of you doing that all afternoon. Agreed?"
"A-agreed." Sam is panting with desire now, can't wait, can't wait to be with Dean again-
"Sammy? What the hell?" And as soon as he hears Dean's voice, he's capturing his mouth, kissing him hard, rough, pushing his lips apart and shoving in his tongue, meeting Dean's with wild abandon and Dean gives a low moan, kissing back, hands moving over Sam's body, caressing and petting.
They break apart, gasping into the air between them and staring at each other, Sam shaking his head, "No talking, Dean, not now, just-I need you so fucking bad, just need you, man-let me, let me show you-"
And he's kissing along Dean's jaw, frantic and hurried, down his throat, humming and sucking over the sensitive skin and Dean tilts back his head to let Sam's mouth wander. Sam's hands are roaming over Dean's back, feathering along the muscles and sliding over his ribs to the front, flicking over the hard nub of nipples.
Dean jerks back, starts to stutter out words but Sam's mouth is back on his again, desperate and needy, dancing his tongue over Dean's, searching and plundering Dean's mouth, going as deep as he can-
And his hand is back around Dean's cock, gripping the base hard and dragging the skin up, flicking a thumb over the head and making Dean's hips buck towards him, the groan of pleasure reaching Sam's ears a second later.
Dean breaks the kiss, pulling in huffs of air, his breath sweet in Sam's nose "Jesus Christ, Sammy, feels so good-"
And Sam jerks and pulls, working Dean hard, until he's trembling with the need for release, his hips rolling and pitching, thrusting into Sam's hot palm, "God, Sammy, God…"
And Sam drops down on his knees, pulling back on the foreskin and licking a circle around the head of Dean's dick, tasting the delicious pearls leaking out of him and Dean's hands grip his head instantly, nerves on overdrive, muscles twitching and bucking, "Sweet Christ, your fucking tongue…"
And Sam opens wide, sliding his mouth down as far over Dean's cock as he can, opening up his throat to take him deep and he's pulling off, almost to the head, swirling around the tip with his tongue before he dives back in again, Dean moaning and shivering against him. Sam slides his hands around Dean's hips, gripping his ass through his jeans and pulling him forward, mouth meeting his thrust eagerly, sucking him down, the taste of Dean making Sam dizzy, hungry for more-
Dean picks up the pace, shoving into his mouth hard and Sam relaxes, letting Dean lead now, faster and faster until he feels the throb and Dean stiffens, and the hot liquid hits the back of Sam's throat and tongue and fuck, the flavor, salty sweet and so Dean that Sam feels tears gathering in his eyes. Damn it, he's missed Dean.
Sam swallows it all down, sucking and licking to make sure he gets every drop and Dean falls back, exhausted and trembling, spasms racking through him and Sam stands up, holding onto Dean tight, hugging him close and Dean's mouth is on his in a heartbeat, kissing the breath out of him.
His husky voice in Sam's ear, "Need you inside me, Sammy, please…wanna feel you-"
And Sam is nuzzling under Dean's ear, nodding, whispering, "Love you so much, man…missed you so much…" and he's shoving down Dean's jeans, helping him to kick them off and Dean's hands are on his pants, unbuttoning, unzipping, yanking them down and touching him, palms hot against his skin, his erection so huge, so heavy that he thinks he may just come from Dean's touch.
"God, man, you gotta stop or I'm gonna shoot off right now-" And he's spinning Dean around, urging him up against a tree and dropping down to his knees again, pulling Dean's ass cheeks wide and licking in with his tongue. Dean gasps and spreads his legs wide, reaching up to hang onto some overhead branches, his knees already shaking with reaction and Sam circles his hole, fluttering over it again and again until Dean's loosening up, leaning forward, his ass jutting out towards Sam and he's raising up on his toes, wanting Sam in deeper, wanting more-
Sam slides in his tongue, thumbs on either side of Dean's hole, pulling it open and Sam licks in and around, poking in and pulling back, working Dean open and earning whimpery moans and hoarse grunts as Dean jerks and twitches against him, almost sobbing out words, "Fuck, Sam, feels so goddamn good, so fucking-God, so hot inside me, can't take it-gotta have you, Sammy, please, man, please, need-"
And Sam's rising up, spitting into his hand and lubricating himself, staring down at Dean in the moonlight, wide open and waiting for him and Christ, his dick is throbbing with want and he positions himself, braces Dean's hips and shoves in hard, getting half-way there before Dean's muscles clench and stop him.
Dean's gripping the branches so tight his knuckles are white and he's breathing, gasping, trying to relax, his whispered, "Yes, yes, yes!" reaching Sam's ears, sending quivers of desire up his back and he's sliding back out and thrusting in again, Dean's breath whooshing out of him at the force of it.
"God, harder, Sammy, harder!" And Sam doesn't need to be told twice, he's jerking back and shoving forward, going deeper each time, making sure to hit against the sweet spot in Dean's ass, his brother yelping out his pleasure with each thrust and finally, Sam's buried, balls smacking up against Dean's ass and they rest for a moment, Sam's hand finding Dean's dick and slowly pulling it up and down.
"Mmmm, that's so sweet, man, so fucking nice, you just don't know. Love the feel of you inside me, man…so huge, just splitting me wide open. Want to feel you come inside me, want to feel it shoot through me, all hot and wet-"
"Dean, touch yourself for me – wanna feel you come again." And Dean's hand covers his, both of them stroking him now and Dean's tensing up, ass clenching down on Sam's dick as he moves toward release.
He pulls Sam's hand up and down, gripping tight so Sam is squeezing his shaft, moving their hands faster now, dragging up and down in a dizzying blur, huffing and gasping out his breath, hips bucking, thrusting up into their palms and suddenly, he's stiffening, rigid and Sam feels the throb, the pulse as Dean explodes, pumping out his seed all over their hands and panting hard, his breathing out of control-
Sam's hand moves back to Dean's hip, sticky and wet and grips tight, and he's pushing up on Dean's hips, pulling out at the same time and slamming back in, hard and fast, the hot tight of Dean's channel gripping him like a second skin and he's climbing higher, higher, so sweet, he's tingling and jerking inside his flesh, God, feels so fucking good he can't stand it, In and out and Dean's ass just clings to him, opening up for him and then hugging around him, not wanting him to leave-
One more shove in and he's cresting, riding the wave, tide's coming in and fuck, fuck, he's coming so hard, he can't see, eyes tear-filled or sweat-filled, he doesn't know which but Sweet Christ, his body is still rocking with it, vibrating with it and finally, finally, he's spent, done, collapsing onto Dean's back in exhaustion.
He rests there until the feeling comes back into his legs and he can move again and he pulls out, helping Dean to stand and turning him around, ready to kiss, to hug and love-
The sardonic glint is back in those eyes, grinning up into Sam's face as Pan mutters, "You do the dance of love very well, brother. The vessel is well sated. I will return when I need more from you."
Sam jerks away like he's been slapped, "Give me Dean back, you fucking-"
And Pan waves his hand at Sam, "Sleep" and Sam drops like a stone, asleep in an instant.
Pan bends down and caresses his face with a light finger, "Your brother loves you very much. He is hard to repress because his love is so strong. I'm sorry I cannot return him to you but I must live and if I live, he cannot."
Sam rolls over with a snore, curling up into a ball and Pan stands up, retrieves his flute and disappears into the woods with a flutter of leaves.
*