When Sam woke, he couldn't help but think he was really tired of waking up disoriented and forgetful. He peeled up like a marionette doll, his spine creaking and twitching. His head pounded, his throat felt as dry as the desert air above, and his ears rung. His symptoms were not unlike a hangover. He rubbed his forehead, peeling his eyes open. Bed. He was sitting up in a bed. The sheets had been changed. Gone was the torn comforter and piles of downy feathers. The new blanket was a thick, soft gray.
"Hey," a husky voice whispered beside him. A hand snaked out and began to caress his side in soft sweeps. "You okay, dude?"
Sam turned towards the voice. Dean was lying down beside him, his jaw perched in his hand. Dean was shirtless. Something was different about his face, but Sam couldn't pinpoint the change. In a rush, everything came flooding back. The demons. The knife. The stabbing. The blood.
Sam rubbed his eyes, "I…I think so."
Dean grasped his hand, curling their fingers together, toying with the band on Sam's digit. "Good."
"I feel like shit."
"You look like it too," Dean teased dryly.
"Shut up," Sam murmured, peering around the room. The first thing he noticed was that the corpses were gone. Sam didn't want to glance down his brother's colossal snake half in search of any protuberances, however. He let his mind fill in the blanks. Sam's eyes flickered over the floor. The blood had been cleaned up. Replaced were Devil's Traps. Everywhere. Three were painted on the concrete moving away from the bed. Sam peered up at the ceiling, noting the giant trap his brother had somehow managed to spray paint onto a great section of the piping. He glanced back down. At the entrance of the room, Dean had laid down a line of salt. A heavy bag of salt lay propped against the frame. He looked to the slave pen. The remaining two slaves huddled together for warmth in the corner, shivering and fatigued.
"How long was I out?"
Dean's weary smile flashed into a grin. "Five days."
Sam's eyes widened, "Five days?!"
Dean nodded, "Yep."
Sam shook his head. How had he been asleep for five days?
"Got pretty worried," Dean admitted. "Didn't know if you were ever gonna wake up."
Sam pushed back the cover and with his free hand, wrenched up the bottom of his clean blue shirt and pawed at his stomach. The wound was gone. A smooth strip of skin lay where a mangled mess of torn tissue and blood had been what felt like moments before. Sam didn't even feel a twinge of discomfort. He let go of his shirt, allowing the fabric to settle back onto his stomach. Sam noticed he was wearing black boxers. So, Dean must've washed him up. Sam licked his teeth and nearly gagged. His mouth tasted like ass, though. Sam ached for a toothbrush and a big jug of minty mouthwash.
He peered over at Dean. Sam figured out what had changed about Dean's face. Dean's five o'clock shadow was thicker, fuller. Sam knew if he reached up and felt his own cheeks, there would be an equal amount of facial hair.
"How did you know?" Sam said, gently untangling his hand from his brother's. Dean rested his palm against his bare thigh.
Dean's brow furrowed. "Know what?"
"Your blood…it healed me. How did you know?"
Dean's face soured as if the memory caused him physical pain. "Honestly? It was kind of like how I knew how to hypnotize the slaves. How I knew I could bite you without giving you any of my venom."
"So instinct then?"
Dean nodded. "It was instinct, sure. But more than anything, I was desperate. I remembered when I got a pipe to the gut. How I healed. My instincts told me that it was something in my blood."
"Something that could heal?"
"Exactly."
Sam licked his lips, cringing at the memory of agony. Seeing the look on his brother's face, Dean added quickly, "The fuckers are gone. Got the place pretty much demon proof."
"But more will come," Sam sighed, his shoulders deflating.
Dean shook his head, "I don't think so, man. I don't know how to say this, but you were pretty much dead."
Sam flinched at the word dead. But he wasn't dead. He was alive and in bed with Dean. Dean continued, "What I'm saying is, I don't think any more are coming. They probably thought they got the job done."
Sam changed the subject. "What happened when you were out?"
Dean let his elbow fall and he snuggled the side of his face onto the pillow. "It was my screw up."
Sam's nose wrinkled. "What do you mean?"
"I should've have been so specific with my word choice. I told them to go get me someone fat, but there was hardly anyone out. But it was probably a good thing. I found them wandering around near the boarded-up section of the plaza. I just hope nobody caught me on camera."
Sam cringed at the possibility. A part of him wanted Dean to get caught, for the man-eating beast the serpentine infection had made out of his sibling to be vanquished. Destroyed. But a larger part of Sam, a part of him that he didn't want to contemplate too heavily, felt fiercely protective of Dean. The thought was laughable, of course. Dean had committed unspeakable acts not only in the name of love, but in the guise of vanquishing his primal, ravenous hunger. Sam should not have felt protective of his monster sibling, but he couldn't help but shift a little closer to Dean. He laid down beside him. He didn't twitch when Dean pressed a kiss to his temple.
"Thanks," Sam breathed.
"For what?" A tremor of confusion laced Dean's vocal cords.
"For saving me."
Dean paused, as if stunned. Then he said, with a tone of utmost weightiness, "There's nothing I wouldn't do to save you, Sam. You're my responsibility."
Sam turned his cheek to peer into his eyes. Dean's spheres could freeze hell. "You're everything to me."
Sam snorted, "You sound like a chick."
"I don't care, man. It's the truth. I love you. I'll never stop loving you." Dean's fingers found his own. Dean squeezed.
In that moment, the reality of that statement, the absolute unshakeable viability, fully sunk into Sam's psyche. Dean was serious, had always been serious, and would continue to preach his conviction until the sun exploded and scorched the planet into a charred chunk of rock floating through space. Sam had always known, hadn't he? Dean's love was a fact of life ever since he was a blubbering, teary eyed babe clutching fitfully at Dean's overgrown, boyish locks.
Sam was momentarily brought back to the small town of Silverton, Montana. It was the first time Dad had taught him how to shoot a shotgun. The blast had sent him sprawled onto his back in the middle of the forest. Rocks and sticks dug into his skin. Later, he'd find a bruise the size of a grapefruit on his ass cheek. Dean had been there a second later, peering down at him, expression a mix of amusement and worry. The sunlight had bled through the overgrown pines, had lit up Dean's dark blond hair, his freckles, his doe eyes. This was years before they had stepped across that invisible line between societally acceptable to downright taboo. But Sam had known, somehow, someway, what life would deal them, how they'd become twisted and tangled, interlocked and unable to tear away, even with hundreds of miles between them and contempt in their hearts.
"What are you thinking about?" Dean's eyes softened.
Sam swallowed. "You remember the first time Dad taught me how to shoot a shotgun?"
Dean's tense mouth curved into a smirk. "Yeah, I remember. Remember you flying back like a little bitch."
"Jerk."
"What?" Dean blinked, until he remembered. His smile grew. "I remember your back and ass was bruised to hell. Scared somebody would call CPS."
"Remember what you said to me the first time?"
Dean cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"First time I shot the gun, and I was on the ground."
Dean's face softened. He nodded. "Yeah, I do."
"You still mean it?" Sam said and damn him if his voice didn't crack a little. He cursed himself for the sudden wave of emotion slamming into his chest. Sam's throat felt tight, constrictive.
Dean's eyes flickered over his face, his smile softening further. "Always, Sammy."
Sam broke the short distance between them, pressing his lips against Dean's. Dean let out a startled grunt but quickly melted into the affection and pressed firmer. Sam grasped his brother's cheek, rubbing his fingers against his prickly stubble. Dean delved into the kiss like a starving man, shoving his tongue inside. Distantly, Sam remembered his mouth tasted like ass, but Dean seemed absolutely undeterred by this fact. Sam shoved his tongue against his brother's.
The longer they kissed, the deeper arousal buried into Sam's belly. His cock filled with blood, tenting the front of his boxers at an obvious angle. Dean must've been getting excited, too, because he began pawing at Sam's waist. The moment Dean's huge hand landed on his ass and squeezed the supple mound of flesh, Sam moaned into the kiss. Dean took the hint and a moment later, much to Sam's shock (and secret, shameful delight), Dean popped him on the bottom. The blunt edge of unabashed heat whipped through Sam's nerve endings like lightening. He pulled his mouth away, licking his swollen, bruised lips. Dean wasted no time in tilting his head down, ravishing Sam's throat in dragging, sensual kisses.
"Did you just smack my ass?" Sam said, fisting the back of his brother's hair.
"Don't pretend you don't like it, Sammy," Dean purred, licking a wet, delicious trail up Sam's pounding vein. On emphasis, Dean pulled back his hand and smacked his ass again. Sam stifled a moan. Through the heat and kisses, Sam felt an unexplainable wetness between his legs. Sam didn't allow himself to contemplate it much, especially since the deep suction against his gorge was enough to distract him.
"Dean," Sam breathed shakily.
"What do you want, baby?" Dean hissed.
"Don't call me that." Sam moaned, shivering when Dean pawed at his ass again, pulling the meaty hill in sensual clenches of his hand, careful of his claws.
"What? Baby?" Dean chuckled.
"I'm not your baby."
"Sure you are," Dean purred, licking the delicate edge of Sam's ear. Involuntary shivers snaked down Sam's back. "You're my baby boy."
Dean pressed his mouth against Sam's sensitive ear hole, diving his tongue deep inside. Sam groaned. He ached everywhere. He wanted so badly that his insides hurt. If he didn't get some release, he was going to explode. Blindly, Sam let his fingers trail down Dean's clothed belly to the start of his snake bottom. He caressed his scales, searching for that masculine slit. When he found it, Dean's eyes snapped open, and he gasped.
"Fuck, Sammy," Dean groaned, wrenching his hips away and grabbing Sam's hand. He looked Sam in the face. "You sure you want this? This isn't some…fuck, man….you aren't out of your mind again, are you?"
Sam gave himself a second to contemplate that statement. He didn't feel that burning, scorching need coursing through his veins like after Dean bit him. No, he just wanted a good time. He yearned for pleasure and intimacy. A small part of him cringed away at the thought, but that was only his morality bubbling up to the surface, cursing him for wanting to sleep with a cannibalistic monster.
No, Sam decided. He was in full control of his emotions. He wanted this. He wanted Dean.
"No," Sam said. "I know what I want. This isn't the bite telling me to sleep with you. I want you. I want you inside me."
At that statement, Dean's eyes became half-lidden and lustful. "Really?"
Sam pressed his lips against Dean's, "Really."
"Okay, okay," Dean said, his vocal cords tight with excitement. He pulled away from Sam and slithered off the bed. "Clothes off."
Sam didn't have to be told twice. Shivering, Sam wrenched off his shirt and tossed it off the side of the bed. He kicked off his boxers. His cock sprung from the material's constricting black confines. Sam played idly with his cock, giving it a couple strokes, and then pawed at his balls, squeezing them in his palm. Meanwhile, Dean searched desperately in the grocery bags. After flinging a couple empty bags away, he found the lube. When he turned back to Sam and saw him, Dean's face flushed, and he froze. Dean could feel his Naga member arching up through his body and nearing his throbbing slit. Any second now, it would pop from its confines and Dean knew he wasn't going to be able to control his animalistic urges, especially when Sam was spread out like a buffet.
Sam grabbed his cock again, stroking himself. He caught Dean's hungry, hyper focused eyes. Dean looked like he was eating him alive with that look alone. Sam's voice was hoarse, "Are you gonna make me take care of myself or what?"
Something snapped in Dean's demeanor and with a sharp growl, Dean slithered to him. Sam managed to grab the lube from his tightly fisted hand while Dean attacked his neck, chest, and belly with ravenous kisses. Rolled onto his back and with Dean between his legs, Sam squirted the lube onto his fingers, lifted his legs higher, and shoved a finger inside. To his surprise, his normally tight hole opened without resistance. Dean's cock sprung from his slit, drippling pre-ejaculation fluid onto Sam's thighs. His cock twitched, as if it had a mind of its own, sensing its fertile mate inches away.
"You smell so good," Dean moaned, swirling his tongue around Sam's nipple. "Wanna taste all of you."
Sam shivered, back arching. He shoved another finger quickly inside, scissoring himself. It was easy not to question his entrance's willingness to open when Dean began sucking on his nipples with unholy fervor. It went like this for several minutes: Sam working himself open while Dean all but devoured his body. When Sam felt he was ready, he tossed the lube away, grabbed Dean's face, and smashed their lips together. Sam pulled away seconds later, breathing the same air, and whispered against Dean's mouth. "I'm ready."
"You sure?" Came Dean's shaky breath.
"Yeah," Sam nodded, "Go ahead."
Sam leaned back against the bed, spread his legs wider, and watched Dean grab his cock. Dean pressed his massive cockhead against Sam's entrance, eyes darting between Sam's face and his bottom. Sam bit his lip, thigh muscles trembling, trying not to move. "Go ahead."
Dean fed his thick, throbbing inches inside Sam an inch at a time, watching Sam's face for any signs of distress. Instead, Sam moaned, overrun with pleasure as he was taken.
Jesus, Dean was big. Monstrously big. Sam was quietly surprised he could take him with little discomfort. The first time he'd bottomed it had been in a little motel outside Tulsa, Oklahoma. Even with a couple tubes of lube and an hour of preparing himself, the moment Dean had pressed his cock fully inside, it had been like razor blades slicing up and down his channel walls. Sam had gritted his teeth through the agony, trying desperately to relax his body. After all, Dean had bottomed for him half a dozen times by that point, and Sam felt horrible that he couldn't do the same. When Dean started thrusting, slow and measured, Sam nearly passed out from the pain. Dean had quickly pulled out. Even then, Sam felt sore and sick weeks after.
But now, with Dean's serpentine member with its fat, glistening head and impossibly thick girth, Sam felt nothing but stuffed full. No, he felt more than that. He felt eager, excited. It felt inexplicably right to hold Dean inside him.
"You alright?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded.
"Tell me if it hurts, okay?"
"It doesn't." Sam licked his bottom lip. "You can go ahead."
Dean pulled back until just the head was inside and then slammed in. White spots of ecstasy dotted Sam's vision. He threw his head back and screamed hoarsely. Dean stopped instantly.
Sam shook his head, neck a long, throbbing line. "No, no. Keep going. Harder, Dean. Harder. Feels so fucking good."
Dean attacked his neck with kisses, pulled back, and thrusted again. Each time, Dean hit a mind-blowingly sensitive nub inside him, sending Sam screaming and moaning deliriously. With the lube and Dean's self-lubricating member, the penetration made a wet, naughty squelch! every time Dean plunged inside. The bottom of Dean's tail whipped back and forth. Sam wrapped his legs around Dean's waist and Dean's arms collapsed. Sam shoved his mouth against his brother's, fucking himself down with each thrust up. Dean groaned with each lunge, panting against Sam's trembling flesh.
"You like me inside you, huh?" Dean moaned. "You're made for me. Aren't you, Sammy?"
"Ah, mmmm. Yes," Sam whimpered, grasping for Dean's strands. "Yes, yes, yes."
Dean kept up a solid, pleasurable rhythm for several minutes until Sam felt his belly begin to wind up tighter and tighter. His bobbing, jerking cock, leaking pre-cum, grew more sensitive. His balls ached, pulling tighter against his body.
"Faster," Sam whined. "F-fuck. Faster."
Dean didn't have to be told twice. He slammed back inside like a piston. Sam could only hold on for the ride. It didn't take long for Dean's breath to hitch, dragging Sam into his own orgasm.
Sam threw his head back, overrun with pure, unadulterated pleasure. The tendrils of ecstasy shot through his tense arms, his trembling thighs, burying deep into his belly. He squirted white stripes of hot cum into the air, landing back on his bulging stomach. His toes curled; he moaned deliriously, grasping onto Dean as if he were a life raft in a raging storm. Through the pleasure, Sam felt the sensation of Dean's semen shooting deep within his tight, clenching canal. Dean's steady lunges sharpened as he buried his cock as far as it could, delirious in his own blinding pleasure. Sam's moan deepened; he squeezed his eyes shut. The sensation felt better than anything Sam had ever felt. Better than a warm bath after a particularly brutal hunt. Better than a long swig of ice-cold water after a long, hot day. Better than chocolate.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Sam murmered, plunging his hips down, aching for more. Yearning to be stuffed full of Dean's hot seed, made plump and immoveable.
"Sammy," Dean moaned, latching onto his mating bite and sucking the deliciously scaled flesh. Sam's long fingers found the back of his skull, his nails biting into his scalp, clutching at his short military strands. Dean's hips halted with a particularly sharp lunge; his pulsating cock was concealed deep within his guts. Sam groaned low and long in his throat. Sam felt the white-hot dots of pleasure gradually fade from his eyelids, leaving Dean's sweaty, flushed face above him.
"I love you," Dean whispered. He nuzzled underneath Sam's throat. He continued to rock gently inside him.
Panting, Sam grasped Dean's shoulder blade. Although the words felt heavy on his tongue, Sam found himself saying: "I love you, too."
