Sam stared off the side of the bed. Embarrassment painted his cheeks; denial crept up his throat. He could hardly fathom what had come over him. His body had been on fire: a licking, flickering burning from within. More than anything, he had desperately wanted Dean to knock him up. Sam was a dude. Dean was a dude. There was no way they could make babies. Why was his body so fucked up now? He had let Dean deep throat him. Worse, he had immensely enjoyed the act. Sam squeezed his eyes shut. It did not stifle the whispers of ecstasy in his bones, the memory of primal yearning snaking through his veins.
"Sammy, look at me," Dean said, his voice silky smooth. He crept closer. Sam pressed harder to the headboard. The whole room smelled like sex: a salty, musky aroma. Dean caressed Sam's bare calf. Remembering his nudity, Sam met Dean's gaze. Dean's eyes were intense but gentle, his lips tilted down into a frown. Concerned, Sam thought. Dean's concerned about me.
"Could you get my clothes?" Sam croaked.
Dean nodded slowly, slipping his hand away. "Okay."
Dean slithered off the bed, snatching up his shirt, boxers, belt, and blue jeans. Sam noticed Dean's own shirt was hanging off him in rags. I did that, Sam thought in disbelief. Sam recalled tearing the shirt from his chest with a feral wrench of his hands. Sam licked his lips, reaching out his arms. Dean presented his clothes. He went about the task of dressing himself. Small trembles raced up and down his arms, aftershocks of his explosive climax. All the while, Dean's eyes did not stray from him. He laid belly down on the bed.
Sam could say he didn't mind Dean watching. In fact, where Dean's gaze had once been frightening, he felt inexplicably safe. Sam understood, too, that the feeling was dangerous. Unnatural. Dread coiled in his stomach. The shirt's collar pulled against his mating bite. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and stifled a moan. Dean let out a hiss between his tightly clenched teeth. Sam forced his eyes open. He looped the leather through the hoops on his jeans. Once dressed, Sam sat back down, leaning against the headboard. He simply breathed.
Dean folded his palm underneath his chin, staring intensely. Sam wanted to squirm underneath his stare but didn't want to give his brother the satisfaction of seeing how unnerved he was.
After several minutes of awkward silence, Dean broke first, "You wanna talk about it?"
Sam laughed humorously, "Seriously? I thought that 'sharing is caring crap' was my thing."
"It is. But I think we should really talk about it."
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "We really need to talk about how you tried tricking me into fucking you."
Dean's jaw dropped open. "I didn't know the bite would do that to you. You gotta believe me."
Sam fisted the sheets. "Then why did you bite me?"
"It was a mating bite. My instincts told me to claim you, so I did. I didn't know it was gonna make you a horny mess."
"Well, it did." Sam said. "I wanted you to…" he trailed off, his cheeks flushing.
"What?"
"It's stupid."
"No, tell me. I wanna know."
"It was like I wanted you to get me pregnant or something." The moment the sentiment left his lips, Sam felt stupid. He wanted to wrench the words back. Dean raised an eyebrow, his face crumbling into amused disbelief.
Dean snorted. "You can't get pregnant, Sam. You're a dude."
Sam rolled his eyes. "No shit, Dean. I know that."
"Your body was just confused," Dean concluded. "A side effect of the bite, maybe."
Sam nodded, "Yeah, you're right."
Silence prevailed. Dean's eyes flickered over his face. Sam stared at the empty cage over Dean's shoulder. The slaves were gone. They were truly alone. For once, Sam didn't feel that sense of impending trepidation deep within him. Dean's presence was like sitting by a campfire on a cold winter night. He felt drawn to him. Sam gritted his teeth, clutching at his knees. He couldn't afford to think like that.
"Sammy?"
"Huh?" Sam blinked.
"I asked, 'Do you want anything to drink?'"
"I'm not thirsty."
"Hungry?"
"No."
"Can I…" Dean gestured toward him. Sam could see his brother's muscles tense. Sam couldn't stand the idea of Dean cuddling him, not after he violated his bodily autonomy.
"No," Sam shook his head sharply. "Not right now."
Dean's shoulders deflated. A hurt expression flickered in his glowing eyes before disappearing into a mask of indifference. He slithered from the bed, his colossal snake bottom twisting and gliding back. He bowed away from the candlelight, gliding into the darkest part of the room. The tip of his tail zipped into the black, vanishing.
"Where are you going?" Sam said.
Silence. The dragging sound stopped. Sam unfolded his legs, wrenching up the soiled blanket to his chest, picking fluffs of downy feathers from between his fingers.
After a few minutes, a low grumble leaked from the inky blackness.
"Dean?"
"Just staying here until they come back."
Sam blinked. "Who?"
"The slaves. Who else?"
Another low gurgle echoed, unseen. A frown played on Sam's lips. The gurgling sounded again, marginally gaudier. Sam realized the gurgling sound was coming from Dean's belly. He was hungry. Putting two and two together, Sam understood the captives were probably going out to kidnap someone. Someone for Dean to eat.
Guilt was a hot ball in Sam's throat. How could he allow himself to be loved by the bloodthirsty, sadistic monster his brother had become? How could he even touch Dean knowing he was going to brutally consume another innocent human being?
"I have a question."
"Yeah?"
"What if you ate animals instead?"
There was hush for a few moments, before Dean chuckled. "How would that work? This is Needles, California, not some backwoods town in Colorado. How the hell am I gonna catch an animal big enough to satisfy me?"
Sam shrugged, not sure if Dean was looking at him. He couldn't see his green orbs glowing in the dark, but that didn't mean Dean wasn't watching. "Maybe get the men to buy a bunch of meat from a butcher?"
"That wouldn't work."
"Why not?"
Dean sighed, "I need meat to survive. Human meat. I'm sorry, but nothing else is going to cut it."
Sam's heart ached at Dean's casual indication, his crude indifference. Dean didn't care. Not one bit. How could Sam love a creature with blood on his teeth and gristle beneath his claws? Someone who so easily dehumanized others to see them as nothing more than a meal?
Sam closed his eyes, fists clenching the bedspread.
Dean changed the subject, "Do you wanna read while I'm waiting?"
Sam's eyes fluttered open. "Don't feel like it."
"Okay," Dean said, voice trailing off.
Sam and Dean sat together in comfortable silence for a while. There wasn't much to say. Sam allowed himself to contemplate the bizarre side effects of his claiming bite. Dean laid down on the floor, trying to fight the ferocious hunger tearing through his body with each passing second. Dean's mind drifted, becoming consumed with thoughts of pursuing his next meal. That's all he could think about. His mouth watered, his muscles poised to hunt, his teeth begging to sink into warm, trembling flesh. An hour passed. By then, Sam's eyes were half-lidden, and he was about to fall asleep. The candles were getting down to nearly the bottom of their wicks. Wax was pooled on the mahogany, red as fresh blood.
"Something's wrong." Dean snarled.
Sam's eyes shot open, his back tingling. "What?"
"They should be back by now."
Dean did not sound like himself. His voice was wetter, strained around the edges, as if he could barely speak. Sam swallowed thickly, squinting at the dark.
"Maybe they're just late." Sam said. It wasn't like they knew how long it took to kidnap a person and drag them down a manhole.
"No. They were probably arrested." Dean hissed angerly. "Fucking idiots."
Sam heard a sudden slithering. A wet, prolonged dragging.
"You don't know that."
Dean slithered from the dark. Sam's stomach plummeted. Dean's face did not look like his own. It was like a cruel artist had made a wicked doppelganger of his brother. His expression was drenched in a ravenous appetite: his venomous teeth were pulled back from his lips, drool trickled down his chin, his eyes more animal than human, devoid of any sanity. Blood pitter pattered onto the ground. Sam's eyes drifted down. Dean had balled his hands into fists so tight, his claws had sliced deep cuts into his palms.
"I have to get out of here." Dean hissed. He glided to the entrance to the room.
"Where? Where are you going?"
"I would never hurt you," Dean rasped, swinging his gaze back to Sam. "But I can't trust myself right now."
"Dean, don't leave." Sam found himself saying. His cheeks reddened. What was wrong with him? Shouldn't he be rejoicing Dean's departure? With Dean out of the sewer system, it would give him sufficient time to escape. But he didn't feel happy. In reality, he was panicked. He needed Dean. Dean's impending departure felt like severing an artery. Bleeding, Sam scooted away from the headboard. Dean turned his face away, grasping the make-shift doorway, claws biting into the metal. His shoulders were a hunched, rigid line.
"Let's just wait a little bit. Maybe they'll come back."
Dean's head snapped back to him. Sam flinched.
"You don't leave, you understand me?" Dean hissed wetly.
"I won't."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
With that, Dean twisted around, zipping into the tunnel. With a pop of auburn, the tip of his tail disappeared, sucked into the black. Sam relaxed against the headboard, listening to Dean's rapid movements until the sounds drifted to a deafening silence. A very small part of him ached to rise from the bed and dart off into the sewers, using the opportunity to find the manhole and escape. But a bigger part of him-a frightfully heavy part-thought it was just a grand idea to stay where he was, safe and protected deep within the burrow.
Sam ran a hand over his face and relaxed back into the bed. Several minutes passed. Sam waited for Dean's return. His eyes grew heavy. The time between blinks grew longer. Without meaning to, Sam drifted to sleep.
A sudden sound snapped Sam back into focus.
Footsteps.
In the tunnel.
Sam's heart dropped into his stomach. His eyes swung to the entrance. He listened keenly. He waited for the sound of Dean's bulk, his sensual glide across the moist concrete. Nothing.
The footsteps were getting closer.
Sam's brow furrowed. Had someone come down the manhole? Perhaps the police? Sam swung his legs off the side of the bed. An involuntary shiver raced up his back as his bare soles hit the cold concrete. He rose from the mattress, taking a tentative step closer. His heart pounded in his ears. How was he going to explain the situation to the authorities without getting locked up?
"Hello?" Sam's voice was weak. He swallowed and said, stronger: "Who is it?"
The footsteps stopped.
Sam felt something cold and clammy on the back of his neck, a whisper of death. With his hunter instincts kicking in, he scrambled for a weapon. He yanked a rusted fire poker that was leaning against the back of a leather recliner. He shoved the weapon in front of him, scurrying to the side so his back was away from the only entrance or exit.
"Dean, is that you?"
The footsteps started again, growing faster, faster, faster. Closer, closer.
Sam tensed, his heart leaping into his throat.
Two men burst from the entrance. Both were middle-aged, heavy set, and donning average, everyday attire. The kind of attire you'd see on shoppers on the Sunset Plaza. They stopped dead in their tracks, staring at Sam. Their chests rose and fell in quick, sporadic pants. The shorter of the two, a balding man who could've been any kid's little league coach, smiled. The smile was anything but friendly. The other man carried a steak knife. The hilt glinted in the soft light.
They looked shockingly familiar, until Sam realized exactly where he'd seen the two men.
"Get the fuck away from me!" Sam shouted, his mind scrambling to remember the words to the Latin exorcism he'd been forced to learn by heart. The first man stepped forward. His partner followed his lead.
Their eyes were swallowed in a film of oily black.
"Get back!"
They both turned to each other, chuckling. The taller man's eyes slid to Sam's face.
"Sammy Winchester," he purred. "Nice to finally meet you. Do you know how hard it was to find you?"
A/N: Thank you for your response! That will be a part of the story! :)
