Dean stood back in the shadows of the starport. He'd been camped out for a good six hours. The ship he had his eye on was an older model, but it had one hell of an engine and was popular with people who liked the old muscled-up starships that weren't loaded down with all that fancy-schmancy high-end computer shit. Nah, this baby, you had to fly yourself. Not much of an autopilot in that Impala 3067. Ship even had a cool, if subtle, paint job. Not a real original name, though. "Sweet Baby"
The pilot/owner had left a good three hours ago. Dean had nailed the guy with a little mosquito tracker and the guy was on a light rail to a nearby city. He obviously wouldn't be back for a while, which suited Dean just fine.
Dean was inside the ship in under ten seconds, crosslinking the lock without an issue. Then discovered a sweet little trap he nearly triggered. After a moment or two wrestling with it, he deactivated it and started to walk in when he hesitated. Too damned easy. It wasn’t, not really, Dean was skilled, but still, too easy. After doing a deeper dig into the locking system, he smirked. Slick. The owner was slick. There was a multi-code check running.
“Not slick enough old man,” Dean murmured and broke through the additional code sequences. Giving it one more check, he was satisfied he caught everything and he walked onboard. He did a quick scan to confirm no one else was aboard, and his wristcomp returned a ‘no life forms detected’ so he figured he was golden. He headed to the cockpit, broke the quadruple coding and the two little traps he found there--damn this guy was paranoid--in six minute and thirteen seconds to get her started, and put in for clearance from the tower.
She purred, and then she roared as she lifted off the pad and headed straight up to space.
Sam woke from a deep sleep to the humming of the engines. Blinking, he sat up. What the--? Had he really slept the whole day away? That was the time it would take for his dad to get the heat suppression pills he needed.
God he hated this. Puberty sucked.
There had been no way he could go out of the ship without the pills. He had no idea when the heat would come again. And there was no way he could take a long trip alone with his dad, without the meds. That’s why his dad had left him at the only starport in this quadrant of the planet, while he went to get the suppressants.
Sam rolled out of bed and pulled on some loose pants. He shrugged on an even looser shirt. The less tight his clothes, the better. Especially when just about anything could bring the heat on.
Though he knew better, he didn't bother putting on shoes. Instead, he padded down the empty metal corridors. Normally, they had a few passengers but when Sam had started to break out, and there had been that incident with that very married passenger, his dad had stopped taking passengers. Once they had the meds, everything would be fine. At least that’s what his father told him.
Hand on the doorframe, Sam started to talk even before he was inside the cockpit. "Dad, did you get them? I've had four flashes and I can't..." He came to a sudden standstill, his eyes focusing on the extremely good-looking guy who had no business sitting in his father's chair. His heart started to race. Giving a huff, he pointed at him. "You are not going to put me through another heat. Get out. Right now. Didn't you see the sign, we're not taking passengers."
Dean had been damned pleased with himself, with how smoothly the theft of the ship had gone. He felt bad that he’d had to steal the guy’s ship, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. He’d had to get off planet and fast and he didn’t have the luxury of background checks of who was the scummiest ship owner in the starport. He'd programmed the jump to take the ship to his buddy Fernando, to get the ship’s identity cleaned and for trade, so he could get where he needed to go. He might even decide to keep this sweet little ride for himself. That's what he'd been musing when he heard a voice at the door and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Sonuvabitch and what the hell?
Spinning the chair around, he pulled out his hand stunner. A kid, probably only a couple years younger than himself though, stood in the doorway. Even wearing floppy clothes, the guy was damned fine-looking, with longish dark hair and sweet, hazel-green eyes. He forced his brain to kick into serious lying mode, shoving away any thoughts about if the kid was just a few years older and a bit less innocent appearing, he might try a different approach.
"You scared the shit outta me, kid. This is an emergency, gotta get some meds to a planet where the Cainen Flu is starting an outbreak. If the supplies don't get to them right away, that planet is gonna be under pandemic warnings for the next three years with millions dead." Dean lowered his stunner. If he was supposed to be here, not like he'd keep the gun on the kid. Why the hell didn't his scanner detect the little shit?
"Oh really? Do you have a warrant to take over our ship?" The guy wasn't in uniform, so Sam knew the answer. "What are you doing here, really? My dad isn't on board, is he?" As the reality of the situation dawned on Sam, he felt the blood drain from his face. "You really should leave." He had no idea how far they'd travelled. "Especially if you have a jealous wife or husband. I'm not kidding..."
Dean bit back his laugh at the way the kid was threatening him. Deeply fearsome. Yeah, not so much. Even so, there really wasn’t any point in keeping up the ruse. He wasn’t a fucking kidnapper and he wasn’t about to steal the kid away. The kid looked a little scared, which if he had been a standard thief, a whole lotta scared would have been warranted and the kid just didn’t seem to realize how deep in shit he could be in. Too many of the darker mindset would have simply jettisoned the kid or sold that sweet-looking body into slavery or something. Dean couldn’t do that, no matter how much he’d needed a fucking discrete ride off-planet. This was going to complicate his life right into a grave if he wasn’t careful. Better to just be honest--more-or-less--with the youth.
"Didn't think anyone was onboard, kid," Dean said with a sigh. "You've really screwed up a sweet little starship theft. I'll make you a deal. I'll take the ship back, land it near where I took it from, and you take a mini-mind wipe so you don't remember what I look like. Whaddaya say? Then I'll be gone, you’ll have your ship, and no harm done except a little spent fuel."
"Right, so you can mind wipe me and leave me out there? I don't think so. How about, you take me back and I promise not to say a word. I don't know you from Adam, but if you don't get us there fast, I swear, that might not be the case." He flushed a little. It wasn't like he wanted to talk about this, but he was compelled to. "I'm a Maldevian. Are you even listening to me?" His nostrils flared slightly. Sam took a few deep breaths and drew his gaze away from the youth. The less aware of him he was, the better.
"Mini-mind wipe. It'll knock out fifteen hours or less. It's dulcana weed. Every seed is an hour. No fancy high-tech drugs. You can take just enough to cover the time, and dude, I'll set down the ship. I'm not going to just leave you high and dry--Maldevian?” The name of the youth’s race finally sank in and he stared at the guy. “You're...oh, crap. You're in heat? Fuck me running." Dean blew out a breath and keyed in an interrupt on the flight plan as fast as he damned well could. The ship would drop out at the first safe jump point, and he could replot a course back to the planet.
"This your first heat?" Dean asked, glancing at the youth. He was potentially so fucking screwed.
Sam was glad the guy understood, but that didn't stop him from looking miserable. He nodded. “It started a week ago. I drew one of our passengers... a married passenger. I didn't know it was me and... So, yeah. If you don't get us down, and get away from me..." Sam gave a one-shouldered shrug, though he was feeling anything but carefree. "My dad went to get suppressor pills. God, why did you have to pick our ship?"
"It's gonna be at least five hours," Dean said, checking the time until interrupt and the jump back, "before I can get the ship planetside again. Why did I pick your ship? Because your dad was apparently too worried about you to do a proper sweep looking for thieves like me. Not like he docked in the high-end berths, either. Even so, if he'd done a real sweep, I'd have backed off." Dean ran his fingers through his hair. "Is what they say true? You go into heat and if you do the mambo with someone, you guys are like bound for life?"
"Five hours..." Sam ducked out of the room, and leaned his back against the frame. "Sometimes. Not always, but it would serve you right, thief."
“Name’s Dean, kid. What about you?”
“Sam,” he said absently as he tried to think of a solution. "You could try locking me in the brig, but..." He flushed, "...if the heat is strong enough, you'll come to me. It won't keep you out." Just the thought of that scenario sent heat dangerously coiling through Sam.
Dean scowled. "Okay so what if...what if I'm in the brig, but I'm the only one with the code to get me out. Would that keep us apart? And can you fly the ship?"
"If I'm stuck with a thief for the rest of my life..." Sam huffed, pushing away from the door and looking back at the guy. "Course I can, it's my ship. My dad's. Same thing." He took a breath. "I don't know. It didn't keep the married passenger safe. He was.... drawn. And could you stop that thing with the licking of your lips," he added in sheer frustration.
"Yeah, like your father is so respectable," Dean muttered. He saw the anger flare in the kid's eyes. "Dude, don't even try. You and the ship were in that port under fake credentials. And this is so not the ship of an Enforcer. Not even an undercover one.” Holding up a hand he ticked off with his fingers. “He's a smuggler, thief, or bounty hunter. Tell me I'm wrong."
"Alright, then make it a ‘two-bit’ thief," Sam answered, using words his father might have selected. He didn't admit to the smuggling because his dad would kill him, and the admission could be dangerous if this jerkface decided to use it as leverage.
Maybe the heat wouldn't come. Maybe it wouldn't. Sam practically chanted the mantra to himself.
"Then don't be bitching that you might get hooked up to a thief. Seems to run in your blood. Besides, I'm the one who's really screwed. You're a kid. I don't want to be stuck with a permanent partner, and who the hell says I'm interested in males? So just keep your damned heat thing under control. Go eat some ice cream or something," Dean said, the potential of his situation beginning to sink in. And he wasn't happy about it. Not at all. For the obvious reasons and the more… deadly… reasons. But no sense freaking the kid out even further.
"I'm not a kid!" Sam answered, stung by the guy's insults. In his culture, you were an adult as soon as you hit thirteen. His heat was delayed, that was all. "You just set us down as soon as you can and get your... your thieving ass off my ship." Nostrils flaring slightly, Sam turned on his heels and left.
As he stormed down the metal corridor, his eyes started to sting. Ice cream did sound good though.
Dean sank back into the pilot's chair, one hand covering his face. The kid's dad was gonna have his ass for dinner if they ended up doing the mambo before getting the ship safely down. To make it worse, if the guy was in heat, Dean couldn't just leave him. He'd have to stick around to make certain the kid stayed safe until the father got back with the meds. Screwed. He was so screwed. Why couldn't he just be some normal thief like he pretended? Zephram told him his conscience was going to get him in trouble one of these days. And it looked like that day had come and was biting him in the ass but good. Didn’t matter though. He was who he was.
As soon as the ship safely dropped out of lightspeed, Dean changed the flightpath to head back planetside. He tried not to remind himself that the shifts in and out of lightspeed were probably making it worse on the kid.
In the galley, Sam doled out a generous helping of ice cream for himself. What he needed was something cold, the opposite of hot. The opposite of that thief sitting smugly in his father's chair, with those hot eyes, and lips, and voice. God, how could someone be so slimy, and have a voice like that? It was enough to have Sam weeping. Five hours, that's all he had to worry about. Five. Long. Fucking. Hours.
Taking the large bowl with him, he strode down the hall. However hot the guy was, Sam couldn't get stuck with him. His dad would have a fit. The family of the person his dad was trying to get him tied to would have fits. And Sam... he didn't wanna get stuck, not with the thief, and not with whoever his dad had picked out for him. He had plans of his own, but they wouldn't work. Not if he ended up...
Eventually, he reached the viewing room. Sitting down, he looked out at the stars. "Space is cold. I'm cold. Ice cream is very, very cold," he whispered to himself, as he spooned some into his mouth.
"What the flying fuck..." Dean muttered as he tried to get the ship to take the return coordinates. That's when he saw the set of lights flash red on the screen and smoke started to curl from one of the panels. "No, oh hell no!" Dean said, jumping up to get the fire suppression canister. He yanked open the panel the smoke was coming from, slicing the hell out of his hand in the process, and sprayed the foam inside. The insulating gel smothered the flames quickly but he heard the distinct sound of cracking crystals.
“Sonuvabitch! Computer, increase ventilation,” he said to get the air cleared of the noxious fumes. Pulling off his shirt, used it as a makeshift bandage to wrap it around his deeply gashed hand, a nice puddle of blood already on the floor. Shit, shit, shit. The ship was basically drifting, waiting for new coordinates that Dean couldn't input because the flight computer had gone up in smoke and fried the crystals. Sure they had thrusters and could travel sublight, but that would take a while. He debated about shooting off a distress call but that was risky for where they were, on all too many levels. He didn't know how well known the ship was for smuggling and if the captain might be wanted, to say nothing of what might happen if he was recognized. Then there were always the pirates listening for distress calls. They'd be happy to help. Help them into an icy grave or sell them into slavery or a shitload of other unpleasant options.
Blowing out a breath, Dean flicked open the ship's com. "Hey kid--Sam, we got a problem. Your flight computer just fried. And I fucked up my hand. Can't really fix it without some help. My hand or the computer."
Sam banged his forehead against the space glass several times. "No, no, no, you moron... what have you done now?" The five hours that he needed to hang on had just doubled. At least.
Sighing, Sam set the bowl aside and stood. "Meet me in sick bay, it's on level two. Try not to break anything else," he said, releasing the com button and heading out.
"I didn't break a freaking thing!" Dean protested, but flicked the button off. He set the gravity anchor to keep them from drifting too far from the hyperspace flight lanes and headed to level two. Hell, he'd already offered to get locked up in the brig. Not like the kid was going to suddenly decide to...no, he wasn't going to think about that. And especially, he wasn't going to remember that. People could be sadistic bastards. Even if they seemed innocent of intent and angelic of looks. Like the kid...
Sam rushed into the sick bay, then faltered, his gaze roving hotly over Dean's bare chest. "You idiot. Are you trying to trigger my heat?" he asked through clenched teeth, barely seeing Dean's injured hand as he fought his nature, his hormones, struggling to keep from being engulfed by the need that threatened his sanity.
"Trigger what?" Dean asked. His shirt was already soaked through and was dripping blood. "Just get the damned surgical sealer out. It's bleeding like a sonuvabitch. If I don't get this sealed soon, I'm gonna be passed out in a bloody puddle on your freaking floor." He put more pressure on the wound, refusing to make a sound even though the pain was almost blinding. He'd been through worse, he reminded himself. A lot worse.
"That might solve both our problems," Sam huffed. He couldn't get it on with someone who was out cold. Or could he? The thought scared him, even more than the thought of being bound to the stranger.
Pushing the portable wash basin close to the bed that Dean was sitting on, Sam turned on the cleansing water. Reaching for Dean's hand, he unwrapped the shirt, then pulled his hand under the running liquid. "Need to clean if off before I turn on the sealer," he said. "We don't have a dual machine on board."
It was only the sight of blood that helped Sam concentrate on something other than how warm Dean's arm was. How good he smelled up close. And how damned much Sam wanted to just... just crawl onto his lap.
He hoped his desires weren't affecting Dean. When it got bad enough, they would. But if they did now, if Dean made a move for him, he doubted either of them would be able to do what was necessary, to stop the bleeding.
Dean’s breath hissed from him when the liquid first hit the wound. It had a mild anesthetic in it along with antibacterial components. Still, the simple pressure on the raw nerves made the pain spike for a moment. After the numbing agent kicked in, he breathed a small sigh of relief. He leaned in a little to get a look at the inside of his hand. The gash ran all the way across his palm. The cut was so deep, tendons were severed. Still, nanos ought to have the injury repaired quickly once the wound was sealed and he’d have the use of his hand back soon.
He was suddenly very aware of Sam. Sam smelled good, like a dream sort of good. Like a possession he had always treasured that had been lost and was suddenly thrust back into his life.
He licked his lips and swallowed hard. His hand had to get patched up first, he told himself firmly. And they had to get the computer fixed if there were spare crystals--dammit, the guy smelled really, really good though. The computer could wait, he thought dazedly as he started to reach for Sam. At least until he tried to pull his arm free so he could touch Sam’s face. His fingers started to curl and the sharp pain accompanying the motion broke him free of the urges of his hormones. For the moment.
“Dean!” Sam shot him a frown, thinking he was being difficult. As if Sam didn’t have enough on his plate, trying to control himself, to get the guy patched up, and then to put some distance between them.
His gaze flicked up to Dean’s face, and he felt heat crawling up his cheeks. “Please don’t,” he whispered softly, his gaze focused on Dean’s tongue sweeping across his lower lip. He blinked. “Please,” he whispered almost humbly, as he went back to taking care of Dean’s wounds.
“Pain does wonders to get your head back in the game,” Dean said. “Sorry.” He took a shallow breath, afraid if he breathed too deeply, that very good smell that was Sam would overwhelm him and his sensibilities. “Maybe...maybe an O2 mask would keep my head clear of...of you…” Dean swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m really sorry. About all this. I never would’a gone for the ship if I knew anyone was on board. My scanner...said the ship was empty.” He just wanted to bang his head into something, anything. Sam’s too good smell was making him babble and making his pants a bit more binding than they had been.
“Are you apologizing because you mean it, or because you need my help with this, or because you want…” Sam answered sharply, because he was frustrated. He didn’t know what to do with all these feeling roiling inside him. And he knew, he just knew, he wasn’t gonna be able to contain them. Not for long.
“I’m sorry too,” tumbled out of his mouth before Sam knew it. “On edge. I want… It’s not like with that other guy. It’s worse, and I’m not even truly in heat and…” Trailing off, he moved the device slowly over Dean’s wound, pressing the button on the sealer so it would do its work.
“I don’t say it if I don’t mean it,” Dean snapped. “I mean about apologies. If I had to, I could do it, fix my hand, without your help. It would just take longer and hurt more.” Dean chewed on the inside of his lower lip. “It’s probably worse for you because…” he gave a sniff and shook his head. “...because I think you’re pretty damn hot, and I do swing that way. So you’re probably getting some feedback from me.” He gave Sam a weak smile. “Even if you’re a whiny-ass bitch and I’m a jerk-face thief.”
“Well, you were blaming my da-” Surprised at the rest of Dean’s words, Sam looked up at him. A smile lifted the corners of his lips, “I’m not whiny, but you are a jerk.” He ran a hand through his hair, then realized he was supposed to be taking care of the wound. “I… ah… I’m not. Hot. It’s the…” He swallowed, his mind still on Dean’s admissions. “So if, you know, you’d just seen me somewhere, you’re saying you would really think…”
“In a year or two, yeah. I mean you’re 15 or 16? I’m 20 and you’re just barely legal where I hang. Still might have hit on you, some making out in the back room sort’a thing. A few more years, yeah,” Dean said with a nod, “Yeah I’d definitely buy you a drink and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.” He blew out a breath. “You don’t get out much, do you?”
Sam’s fingers curled around the towel next to Dean, as he imagined just that. “No. Father is afraid I’ll get hooked up with the wrong element,” he gave a choked laugh. “He’s got plans for me.”
He moved the device, hovering it over a less serious part of the wound. “What would you whisper?” He knew he shouldn’t be playing this game, but with the engine broken, he also knew there was no way they were getting back before it happened. “I need to know. What someone, what you would say if it weren’t for this…” He wished he could make his hormones go away, that he could have met Dean under normal circumstances.
Dean studied him for a minute. “Since you’re innocent, I’d stay away from vulgar shit. Tell you what a cute tight ass you’ve got. How I like my guys with broad shoulders, which I’m betting you’re definitely going to end up with before you’re through. Your dimples are like in the top ten. I like how that lock of bangs falls over your eye. How your eyes are like the perfect mix of sapphire and emeralds… How I’d like to see you naked. Run my fingers over your chest, your back...And damn, what blinding white teeth you have, Grandma.” He gave a smirk. “Vulgar versions would be explicit offers of what I’d like to do to you, how I’d like to see you all naked and covered in sweat. And you wouldn’t need a hormone overload to get me to say those things. Any of ‘em.”
“Do those lines really get you anywhere?” Sam gave a huff, but when he looked up into Dean’s face, his heart stuttered. He knew he would have fallen for every one of them. “I think you’re the reason Father doesn’t let me go to taverns.” Lifting his hand, he ran it over the side of Dean’s face, his cheekbones, and those lips that might have suited a woman as well as they suited him. “I think he was right.”
He wondered if he’d have liked Dean. Not just his looks, but his personality. He’d pretty much hated the guy on sight, but the guy had also made him laugh. And he could have been mean. He could even have tried to eject him from the ship. He wasn’t gonna give him that idea though, just in case.
“Sometimes. Sometimes not,” Dean said giving a partial shrug. He struggled not to react to the light exploratory touches Sam gave his face, but it was damned hard--and making him harder. “And yeah, I’m the type your parents tell you to stay away from. One nighters. I like my… recreation but not ready for a long term anything. Had that. Went bad. Real bad. Not looking for that kinda bad again. So I’m a smooth-talking, hot-looking, one nighter you’ll never forget kinda guy and I like it that way.” Dean turned his head a little and brushed his lips over Sam’s fingers. “You...your culture. Arranged marriages isn’t it? Hooked up as soon as the heat hits. You’re worth more if you’re still untouched.”
“Some have choices. A pool to select from, but yes. For the traditionalists, like my father.” Sam pulled his hand away and looked at it in wonder. Heat lanced through him at the touch of Dean’s lip, and his fingertips still vibrated.
“Maybe you’ll be lucky. Maybe we won’t get soul-bound. Maybe…” Sam swallowed. “Did you want to lock me in the brig. To try to stay away?” His eyes widened as an idea struck him. “You could break the door mechanism. Then it would be impossible for you to get to me.”
Sam’s words were at odds with the heat crawling through his body. He needed to get out of here. He needed to plaster himself to Dean. “Gods… Dean,” he whispered hoarsely.
Dean gave a faint laugh. “I’m a thief. A broken mechanism wouldn’t stop me. Hell, being locked outside in a spacesuit wouldn’t keep me out if I’m determined.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You got a cryotube? You could freeze me...I guess.” He wasn’t thrilled with that idea, not at all, but it was his fuck up of not walking the ship before bolting from the port, without even a cursory check of the living quarters. “What ...what exactly happens if we end up soul-bound?”
“The exact opposite of what you want,” Sam answered, somewhere between regret and misery. “You’re mine. I’m yours. For always. No outs.” He paced away, if only to put distance between them. But when he looked back at Dean, his eyes were bright and hot with desire. His skin has started to get a little clammy and tight. “You can run from me. But it hurts. We will see each other in our dreams. Know when the other is with someone else. Sometimes it’s possible to separate, if you can take all that.” He took a few more steps back, nestled in the frame of the sickbay door.
“Dammit,” Dean muttered. “Well, I’m sure I’m not your dream come true. Anything but what your family had planned for you.” He looked down at his sealed wound. He could just barely feel the nanos at work. Soon his fingers would be working again. “How soon… hell, Sam, is there any chance we can avoid…” he pointed back and forth between him and Sam. “Or at this point, is it pretty much a given?”
“If we both knock ourselves out… but there would be no one to repair the ship and…” For every idea he had, he knew how it would go down. If Dean put him somewhere, locked him up, Dean would find a way to get him out. Or if it was Dean who was locked up, and maybe tied down, Dean would talk Sam through getting him out. And that was the least of their problems. They couldn’t just float aimlessly in space.
“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.” Tears stung his eyes, but Sam kept them in. “I’ll go to my room. Take a shower. Try to… maybe we’ll be rescued before...” Yet, the way he was looking at Dean, his body aching with needs he hardly knew how to cope with, it was clear it was close.
“Not your fault. Blame’s all mine. Repairing the ship will go faster if we work together. I’ve got the gravity anchor out, but I didn’t send a distress call yet, so not like help’s on the way. Where we’re at...we’re better off trying to fix it ourselves. A distress call could just land us in deeper shit.” Dean pushed himself off the table and locked gazes with the young man as he walked toward him.
“If it’s inevitable, you and me, then let’s make it our choice. I want to be in control of myself. I want to be able to hear you if you say you want something or don’t want something. We wait much longer and I dunno how gentle I’ll be. That’s not the way your first time should be. Whattaya say?” he asked, reaching out and stroking the side of Sam’s face, seeing the riotous mix of emotions in the young man.
“You’d do that for me?” Sam’s voice shook a little as he stared into Dean’s eyes, so many questions in his own. “We could pretend you aren’t the jerk who stole my ship,” he gave a small laugh. “That we met at a tavern, like you said.”
He turned his face, brushing his lips over Dean’s knuckles, the way the guy had done to him. “Maybe I whispered in your ear. Maybe you followed me home.”
“It’s your fantasy. However you want it,” Dean said feeling the searing heat scorch his every nerve at just the brush of Sam’s lips. He knew Sam was scared, upset, and the least Dean, the royal A-1 fuck up, could do was try to make Sam as comfortable with the situation as he could. “So tell me. What sweet nothings would you whisper in my ear?” he asked huskily, taking a step closer and resting his hand on Sam’s side. He took in the deep breath he wanted and let Sam’s erotic smell permeate and fill him.
“I don’t know.” Sam tried to think beyond the thumping of his heart. To remember the things Dean said he would have whispered. He wasn’t sure he could pull off saying anything about Dean’s ass. He took a deep breath, his eyes slipping shut at the touch of Dean’s hand. “I… I’d tell you…” Leaning in, he moved his mouth over Dean’s ear and whispered. “That I’ve never seen anyone more handsome. That looking at you makes me feel funny, right here.” He pressed his hand against Dean’s abs, then sharply inhaled at the intense jolt of need that had him moving even closer, his body brushing against Dean’s. “I’d ask if I could kiss you.”
“I’d tell you yes,” Dean whispered back and turned his head, capturing Sam’s mouth with his own. Sam’s lips were like silk, soft and inviting, but fanned the fire he’d already ignited inside Dean. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist and pulled Sam up against him, sliding his leg in between Sam’s, providing Sam’s groin pressure, groaning into his mouth as he felt Sam’s hard cock press against his thigh.
Dean’s kiss was soft and gentle. It had Sam parting his lips, and trying to process the dizziness he felt. A stroke of Dean’s tongue against his lips had Sam clinging to Dean, heat flaring within him, burning him up like a furnace. Dean seemed to know, to understand exactly what he needed.
Memories of writhing in his bed alone, wanting, needing, but getting no satisfaction from phantom lovers, fell away. Dean was flesh and bone. He knew exactly what to do, and Sam felt safe even if he shouldn’t.
Wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders, Sam kissed him back. He rubbed his erection against Dean’s thigh, a little faster, a little harder, as he started to get lost in his needs. He didn’t know if this was still just them, or his heat. All he knew was that this was a controlled burn, maybe because he wasn’t fighting it.
Dean broke the kiss with an effort. “Let’s move to your bedroom,” he gasped, his own cock thick and heavy with need. For all his good intentions, he had to start kissing Sam again, but he at least moved them out of the doorway, pressing Sam’s back against the wall.
His hands slid under Sam’s shirt, startled to find skin taut with muscle. Sam might look a little on the thin side, but his loose clothes had been hiding a rock hard body under them. He rolled so his back was against the wall, then rolled them again, slowly working down the hallway. “Oh God, fuck, Sammy,” he breathed out between kisses. His needs spiked hard and he reached down placing a hand under either of Sam’s thighs, lifting him easily and blindly headed down the hall, not caring, not even noticing when he ran into a wall now and again.
Oh God fuck Sammy. Were those the more vulgar words Dean said he might have whispered, if Sam were older? Sam wasn’t sure, but he knew how they made him feel. Hot. Needy. Clingy.
The moment Dean picked him up, Sam instinctively locked his legs around Dean’s waist. He didn’t want to lose any of the contact between their bodies. Thrusting against Dean’s hard cock, his world spun out of control. “Mnn … no, other way,” he pointed, and brought his mouth down on Dean’s again.
He didn’t care that they slammed against the wall, or that it would have been easier and faster if he dropped down and ran with Dean. But he couldn’t give him up, give up his touch.
As they neared his room, the pressure built inside Sam. He smothered Dean with kisses, along his jaw, and neck, moaning when the flap of his shirt somehow opened, and he was skin against hot skin. “Dean… oh God…”
“No delusions of godhood here,” Dean said, nipping Sam’s ear lightly. Feeling Sam’s damp skin against his own, he let out with a need-filled groan. “I want you riding my cock, fucking my mouth, and a dozen other ways.”
If he hadn’t been flushed with heat, Dean’s words would have done the trick. At the same time, Sam wanted exactly what Dean wanted, saw them doing those things so clearly in his mind.
Running his tongue along Sam’s neck, the flavors of salt and spice assaulted Dean, making his body practically vibrate. He gripped the back of Sam’s shirt and tugged repeatedly until he heard fabric rip. He tore Sam’s shirt free of his body and dropped it, the material fluttering to the metal floor.
He would have asked which room was Sam’s, which door, but he could tell. The air was heavy with Sam’s scent. He almost bumped into the door but it slid open and as soon as Dean spotted the bed, everything blazed inside him, burning, making him practically writhe with need. He turned and fell back onto the bed, taking Sam with him, their lips never parting except for brief moments when they needed to breathe.
Landing heavily on Dean, he scrambled to re-align their bodies. Grinding against Dean, he kissed him, again and again, until the tightness inside him became a painful ache, and this wasn’t enough.
Ripping his mouth away, he looked down at Dean. Handsome was an understatement. “I’m glad it’s you,” he said, a hint of defiance in his tone.
He reached for the fastening of Dean’s pants, then looking down, he started to undo them. It was his first time, but it was as if his body knew exactly what to do, what he needed. “Is it okay if you fuck my mouth first?” he asked.
“Wha--?” Dean started to ask. “Maybe...maybe you should blow me instead. So you’re in control,” he managed to get out. He didn’t think he’d be able to control himself like he should and he definitely didn’t want to turn that into something traumatic for Sam… because he damned well planned on fucking Sam’s mouth a lot in the future.
He ran his hands up and down Sam’s arms, wanting to reach in and run his thumbs over Sam’s nipples, hear him mewl with pleasure and need but forced himself to remain in control. For the moment.
“There’s a difference?” Sam’s gaze flicked to Dean’s, but he couldn’t wait for an answer. Curling his fingers around the waistband of Dean’s pants, he worked them down his hips, his entire focus on Dean’s hard cock.
It was bigger and thicker than he’d imagined. Closing his fingers around it, he moved his hand very slowly, learning what Dean felt like, exploring him. It was only the fact that he’d straddled Dean’s leg and was unconsciously thrusting against it, that allowed him to be almost scientific in inspecting Dean’s length.
“Oh God. Fuck-fuck-fuck,” Dean hissed at the light, slowly-moving pressure on his swollen cock. “Take the tip in your mouth. Suck on it,” Dean gritted out. “Bob your head up and down, taking it deeper in your mouth. Your hand--holy mother of--move--up and down--stroke it.” Dean dug his fingers deeply into the mattress, afraid he’d reach up, grab Sam by the hair, and simply start fucking that sweet mouth if Sam didn’t do something and fast.
The swearing. The urgent demands, jerked Sam out of the momentary lull from his lusty needs. But this, it just drove him right back into the madness. He didn’t know why, but he curled his fingers lightly around Dean’s sides, splaying his fingers wide, and caressing him, dragging his hands down along his abs to his thighs. The way Dean lifted off the mattress had Sam groaning, and trying it again, watching the play of Dean’s rippling muscles as his fingers moved over them.
Sam’s touch was like lightning along Dean’s nerves. Every part of him reacted to the young man’s touch. He’d heard making love to a Maldevian was like no other, and he was beginning to believe it. He didn’t even think Sam was in full blown heat yet, and that boggled his mind. If this was his experience from the light caresses of a virginal, just coming into heat teen, what would Sam be like in just a year or two?
Seeing the precum beading at Dean’s tip, Sam whispered “okay, okay.” He’d explore Dean again later, but right now he wanted to give Dean what Dean needed. Grasping Dean’s flushed and swollen cock, he moved his hand up and down his shaft, moving it faster when Dean lifted his hips. Then he dipped his head down, licking Dean’s tip free of the cum, before parting his lips over it and sucking his crown into his mouth. As he sucked on Dean, he ran his tongue over his tip, learning how Dean tasted, how he felt, how he reacted to his touches.
As soon as Dean’s crown was surrounded by the heat of Sam’s mouth, he struggled not to just thrust and bury himself deep. Imagining Sam deep-throating him almost made him lose control a second time. He felt fabric rip as his fingers tore at the mattress. “Like that, yeah, more…” he begged, his cock tingling and vibrating.
Sam’s head jerked up at the sound of the material ripping. When it was clear he hadn’t done anything wrong and that Dean just wanted more, Sam licked around Dean’s cock, then quickly took him back into his mouth. This time, he took more of him in, and started to move his head up and down. Moving his fist around the base of Dean’s cock to the same rhythm, but counter to the movement of his mouth, he experimented. Something was off…
He stopped sucking for just a moment, moving only his hand, then he synced up with his hand. That was better, now he could get more of Dean inside his mouth with every stroke.
“Yeah-yeah-yeah--ungh--” Dean groan, glad Sam was sitting on his legs to help keep him under control. Sam kept taking his cock in a little deeper and deeper. And it felt...different. Dean’s mind was in too much of a needy haze to pinpoint it, but Sam’s mouth was different, or his saliva, and it felt like Sam’s tongue danced and wrapped and tickled his cock everywhere all at once, yet each place was given focused attention. He couldn’t help it and reached up to comb his fingers through Sam’s locks of hair. He started to wrap his fingers in that hair but it was his injured hand and he felt the painful twinge in his palm.
Lifting his head to watch, Dean’s gaze was locked on his cock slipping in and out of the young man’s mouth. He gave a small cry as it felt like his cock grew even thicker and more gorged with blood.
Dean’s fingers twining in his hair, urging him on, inflamed Sam’s desire to please. To make this boy… this man… want him. A part of him knew that it wasn’t fair to someone outside his culture, to make them feel this way. But another part of him had stopped caring the moment Dean’s mouth touched his, the moment he’d gotten a taste of Dean.
He redoubled his efforts, letting his senses take over. Just as he’d known there was a better way to deliver what Dean needed before, he started to sense what felt good to him. What he craved.
It had never occurred to Sam that Dean might want some pressure on his balls, but he slipped his hand down and squeezed him lightly, groaning at the sudden feedback of pleasure that hit him. Right there, he learned that moaning around Dean’s cock added a layer of pleasure, and he wasn’t stingy with it. He moaned, and sucked, and moved faster over Dean’s shaft.
The tightness low in his abdomen suddenly became a fierce, undeniable craving. He pulled off Dean, his eyes hungry with a need he could barely voice. “Want…. want…” he whispered, running his hands down Dean’s stomach and abs again, the sight of Dean lifting off the mattress only making it worse for Sam.
Dean let out with a cry at Sam’s sudden withdrawal of pressure and pleasure. He squeezed his eyes shut, his head slamming back into the mattress as he arched up, searched for a return of the erotic aura he’d been wrapped in. He heard Sam’s words, his desperate begging, but it took a moment for anything to get past his needs. Breathing heavily, he met those gemstone eyes and licked his lips.
“You need--” he rasped and cleared his throat. “--what? To ride my cock? To fuck into something?” He took another couple breaths and gave a nod. “Follow--follow your gut. Do what you want, what you need.” Dean didn’t usually bottom but hell, this was anything but usual circumstances. If that’s what his Sam needed, he’d give it to him. He’d give him anything he asked…
Dean’s plain speaking had Sam groaning, wanting. “I have to make a choice?” he asked, giving a strained smile as he curled over Dean, looking down into his eyes, trying to piece out what he wanted. What he needed from him.
He took a few hot breaths. Brushed his mouth over Dean’s then pulled his head up. “I feel… empty. I want…to...”
The instant he knew what he wanted, his cock twitched and started to leak. Scrambling back a little, he lifted himself up onto his knees. “Ride your cock, that’s what I choose,” he said, certainty in his tone. Guiding Dean’s tip to his hole, Sam simply sank down, throwing his head back at the sudden pain tearing him apart, but knowing it was by far eclipsed by the terrible need gnawing inside him.
“Wait--gunghhh” Dean tried to say he had lube, but it was too late. Sam was already spearing himself on Dean’s thick cock. It was painfully pleasurable, the desperate need Dean had been in suddenly eased by being encased inside Sam. “Holy fuck!” Dean hissed, pulling his fingers free of the mattress he’d dug his nails into. Grabbing Sam’s hands, he interlaced their fingers and his gaze locked with Sam’s. “Just--just give it a moment. The stretch--the pain--will ease.”
Dean began rolling his hips a little, trying to gently stretch Sam, trying to hit his prostate--hell did Maldevians even have prostates? He didn’t know, didn’t care. He just wanted it good--perfect--for Sam as he began to bounce a little, letting his cock pull out a fraction then ease back in.
At first, Sam wasn’t sure he could take this. But once Dean captured his hands, he seemed to ground him, to bring him slowly out of the fog of pain. Eyes locking with Dean’s, he knew he trusted him. Part of the reason Maldevian youths were sheltered was to prevent others from taking advantage, and from injuring them by their carelessness.
He rolled his hips slightly, following Dean’s motions. The emptiness, the loneliness was gone, displaced by Dean, and by pleasure. Tightening his fingers around Dean’s, Sam leaned forward and back, grinding a little harder, and sometimes lifting up a little higher. When he squeezed his inner muscles tight around Dean, white hot heat surged through him, and had him throwing his head back and giving an almost obscene moan.
“What…” his eyes questioned Dean even as he prepared to try it again, needing, wanting that same sensation to pulse through him over and over without end.
Dean was groaning with Sam, rocking, pulling out and thrusting in, but only as much as Sam seemed ready for, trying not to push his needs onto the inexperienced young man. But when Sam squeezed, Dean gave a cry and thrust his hips a little harder. A series of soft bumps where typically there should just be the one prostate, were inside, stimulating Dean’s cock in new and creative ways. From Sam’s reactions, he could only guess Sam had a column of sensitive spots and when Sam squeezed and Dean thrust, it was all Dean could do not to just start going at it.
“You are...amazing,” Dean whispered. He tugged Sam forward, locking lips with him and began a slow thrust up into the young man, increasingly his pace a little at a time. Every time Sam squeezed, about all Dean could see was brilliant white lights.
“Not me. All you,” Sam breathed, as he moved faster, lifted higher, and learned how to tighten around Dean just as Dean pushed up into him. His movements became much less hesitant, more sure as they fell into a rhythm. Heat pulsed through him, the way he’d thought it would. “I feel you,” he whispered, “I feel you, Dean.” He didn’t know how to explain, but he felt what Dean wanted or liked, and he started to deliver. Harder, faster, leaning in more, then leaning back, he gave Dean everything he could.
As Sam got worked up, every inch of his skin and of Dean’s, became so sensitive that Sam could feel every hot breath leaving Dean’s lips, brushing along Sam’s stomach and side. He squeezed his eyes shut, and every feeling he had intensified. Every sound, every whisper, every slide of Dean’s body against the sheets took on an erotic edge, driving him wilder, and wilder for Dean, making his very soul reach out for Dean’s.
Their love making crescendoed and Dean no longer worried about hurting the young man. Sam seemed to innately understand what felt the best and just when to squeeze or grind or pause. It was a perfect dance and they moved together as if they were two parts of a whole, of a machine that could only work the way it was meant to if these two were together.
The universe seemed to open up for Dean. It was like he was soaring through the space lanes with no need for a ship, with no need for anything but Sam. Sam. He was surrounded by Sam’s essence, his smell, his energy, his soul. He felt it as his own heart and soul reach out for Sam’s, as the energy began to entwine. But I have secrets. I’m not who you think. Dean wanted to scream at him, to try to stop what he knew was happening even as he felt himself begin to reach his climax
Hearing the whispers of what was in Dean’s heart, Sam’s soul answered, I know, I know, you’re a thief and a jerk. And I’m a liar, and a coward. I was gonna run from my father once he got the meds. So what… I want you… I need you.
His soul’s proclamations were echoed by the things his body did, the impossible ways he moved, writhed and undulated, pleasuring Dean, pleasuring himself, enticing his soul mate. Mine. I want you to be mine.
Dean tried to fight it, wanted to fight the siren song Sam was weaving for him. But I’m not worthy… he protested weakly. He sensed that Sam didn’t care what Dean’s past was. Only what their future together would be. Together. Dean surrendered and stopped fighting it, stopped denying the truth of how badly he wanted Sam to be his and only his. I’m yours, he told him without saying a word and Dean’s world shifted.
Sam dropped down, plastered his mouth over Dean’s and kissed him senseless as he rode him, driving them home at an increasingly furious pace. There was no going back now. Their souls were bonded, they were one. Their joys and pains, one. Their highs and lows, one.
As heat exploded within him, Sam shouted Dean’s name. His lover, his partner, his mate.
Dean came in an explosion of fireworks. They blinded his vision, they assaulted his nerves, they shook his body. He came and came and came again. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. If you could be in Heaven and still be alive, he was certain he’d just experienced it.
While Dean was still vibrating with pleasure, he knew his partner, his mate, had not yet come. He reached between them and gripped Sam’s hard cock, stroking it, feeling almost as if he was stroking his own as pleasure shot through him. “Come for me, baby,” he encouraged.
“Ngh… Dean, Dean!” Sam shouted, seeing white explode behind his eyelids as he came at Dean’s command, his hot cum rocketing out of him. “Dean,” he whispered again, then dropped his head on Dean’s chest and started to laugh. “I thought I… I thought I came before,” he admitted, hugging Dean, and dropping a kiss on his chest.
“I think that was me on overload,” Dean chuckled, stroking Sam’s back slowly, soothingly. “You father is going to kill both of us. At least you don’t have to worry about attracting strangers into your bedroom anymore. Just one stranger. Me. And I’m very very possessive. Just so you know.”
Sam raised himself up a little, so he could look down at Dean’s. His heart gave a flip flop at the thought that Dean was really his. That they were bonded. “My dad will learn to love you like I do,” Sam countered, “and you don’t seem very possessive. What was all that talk about one night stands?” He kissed Dean. “I’ll try to make you happy, Dean. I’ll do my best so you don’t miss that life.”
“I did one night stands because my last long term lover was killed...slowly, painfully, because of who I am.” Dean looked away from Sam. “I’m with the Freedom Fighters...and related to the royal family who the FF is trying to get rid of. As in the royal family who basically runs the galaxy. Grandson of the king. My dad married the youngest daughter. So you probably should have listened when I said I’m trouble.” He finally met Sam’s gaze again. “But I won’t let anything happen to you. No matter what. I’ll keep you safe, even if it means giving up all that. I’m not losing you.”
Sam ran his hand down the side of Dean’s face. “Freedom Fighter. My dad’s gonna love you. After he gets over being pissed off at you,” He laughed. “Who do you think we do our smuggling for?”
“Maybe we should skip mentioning I’m a Campbell by blood,” Dean said, laughing along with Sam. “And I’m only a thief of starships when mine gets spotted by the police. Still, you said your father had plans to marry you off. That’s going to be awkward. Especially since your permanent mate is the same guy who stole his ship. He can’t force you to still marry someone else can he?” Dean asked, suddenly worried that like everything else good in his life, Sam would also be taken from him.
“Permanent mate… I like the sound of that,” Sam said, caressing Dean’s chest. “No, he can’t. No one can. They have to recognize that we are one now.” He moved his finger down, drawing circles around Dean’s nipple. “Dean, don’t laugh but… what we did. Does that count as me fucking you or you fucking me?” he asked, without looking up. He knew he’d had Dean inside him, but he was on top, so…
Dean had to swallow back his laughter and he only did so because Sam had explicitly asked him not to laugh at the question. He reminded himself that Sam was completely uneducated when it came to sexual encounters. “Ah, you rode me, but I fucked you. The, uh, one who does the, ah, pistoning, is generally considered the fucker vs the fuckee. But Dude, doesn’t really matter. We’ll pop your virginal dick soon. I promise. There is no question we fucked. Who gives a shit about the details so long as we enjoyed it. Is your heat...better?”
Sam was intently listening to the explanation, but felt a blush coming at the question. “For, now, yeah. Much better. We could go get some ice cream while the bed fixes itself,” he said. “Then maybe we could… I haven’t seen all of you,” he whispered. “I want to know if you move the same way if I run my hand down your back and ass. Ah, tight ass,” he said, trying to sound more like Dean.
Dean gave a low laugh. “Sam, be yourself. Don’t be me. And apparently we’ve got the rest of our lives to explore everything about each other. You can get your ice cream, but me, I like pie. And I wouldn’t mind a sandwich.” He gave Sam a kiss and slowly sat up. He’d fully intended on getting all the way up, but found the quick kiss he’d given Sam just didn’t satisfy him. Or maybe it didn’t satisfy Sam. Or maybe both of them. So he gave Sam a slow romantic kiss before finally climbing to his feet.
He pulled his pants back up and gave Sam a nod to do the same, then slipped his arm around Sam’s waist as he guided Sam out of the room. “Let’s eat, shower, then--no, I have a feeling the shower will lead to more exploration and adventure. Let’s eat and then get the computer repaired, getting us out of the sitting target category, then we’ll shower and you can see and touch and wash any part of me you want. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like a plan. Unless you eat your pie with a lot of lip licking that sends me back into heat.” Lifting his face, Sam kissed Dean’s neck as they walked. “I probably should have mentioned, once consummated, heat lasts for three or four days and things get… progressively longer,” he said with a slight cough.