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.
Dean took a misstep and turned to look at Sam. “You make it too long and I’m likely to die from a heart-attack. Try to keep it under control, at least until we get the computer fixed. I’ll try to minimize lip-licking.” Even as he said it, he licked his lips. He tried to imagine a longer sexual encounter than what they’d just had and, well, it wasn’t hard, but he also didn’t want to make it so Sam couldn’t walk. Course Sam didn’t seem to be in any discomfort, which sort of surprised him. “You, ah, walking okay?”
“Course I’m walking okay, whaddaya mean?” Sam looked down, then back up at Dean, then walked ahead of him. After a few steps, he turned around and kept walking backwards down the familiar corridors of the ship. “You were just trying to get a look at my sweet, hot, tight, ass, weren’t you?” he asked, putting his hands behind him and rubbing his ass cheeks with exaggerated motions, as he teased.
Dean chuckled and shook his head. “Normally when you pop your cherry, you find yourself kinda sore. And we’ve got to get you some tighter fitting clothes to show off that hot tight ass of yours.” He gave Sam a leer.
“Not sore, cause you’re a perfect fit,” Sam grinned, feeling another flush wash over him. “And if your clothes get any tighter, I’m gonna keep you in the bedroom.” Sam slowed up, and put his hand out, threading his fingers through Dean’s, then walking alongside him as they headed to the galley. “You’re really okay with this. You want this?” he asked, feeling a little vulnerable. Those from outside his culture sometime railed against their fate, and even with soul bonding, there could be resentment and pain over a perceived loss of freedom and opportunities.
Dean ran his free hand through his short hair. “Sam, whaddaya want me to say? I like how you look, but I don’t know you yet. You don’t know me yet. We basically had a shotgun wedding and I haven’t got a clue where we go from here. I like feeling like you belong to me, and that you want me around for like, ever. Am I worried it won’t work? Hell yeah. Am I worried my life will get you killed? You better believe it. Am I ready to give up my life? No. Yes. I dunno. First rule of being on the most wanted list is live for the day. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Am I pissed at you?” Dean shook his head. “Nah. I knew the chances. If it was going to happen, I wanted it on my terms and it was. But I don’t do big celebrations and I don’t do being the center of attention. Just so you know.” He really hoped there wasn’t going to be some great big Maldevian ceremony because they soul-bonded or something. He tried hard to push aside worries of the ramifications their bonding could bring. But what was done was done. So as always, Dean just tried to keep on moving, keep on living. At least he wouldn’t be lonely anymore.
Sam nodded, and looked down at the polished metal floor. It was true, he had a way of wanting everything to be perfect. To be tied up in a bow. To know everything was gonna be fine. But he was soul-bonded now, and had to grow up. And Dean was treating him like an adult, telling him the real facts.
Stopping at the entrance to the galley, he looked at Dean. “You don’t have to protect me Dean. I just want you to be happy with us, that’s all.” He let that sink in for a moment, then releasing Dean’s hand, went to the replication unit to dial in his request for ice cream with a slice of pie. “I’m not helpless when I’m not in heat,” he said, looking over his shoulder at his mate. You don’t have to give anything up for me.”
“I never figured you were. Though nothing wrong with being a little helpless now and again,” Dean said, his gaze focused on Sam’s ass. “Besides, makes me feel a little like a hero.” Dean rubbed his chin and felt the light stubble growing there. “I do need to know more about this soul bonding. I mean, if I go work a job or something, how far apart can we be? We’re not glued at the hip, are we? You said it was painful if we got too far apart.”
“No, not glued at the hips. Just at the heart,” Sam said, giving Dean a smile. “And I didn’t mean distance. You can go as far as you like, just like with any other other couple. But length of time apart can get us antsy. Or, you know, if we fight and there’s bad feelings. Or one of us is with someone else.” Sam wasn’t sure he was explaining things well enough. Maybe a part of it was he was afraid of scaring Dean, or saying something that Dean would react negatively to. There it was again, his need for everything to work out just right.
Before the pie and ice cream were ready, he added a sandwich selection for Dean, tapping ‘enter’ on the replicator’s screen. He cleared his throat, and looked back at Dean. “We could go see a counselor, if you want. My people are big on counseling in cases of mixed matings.”
Dean raised his hands, “Oh, hell no. I don’t do touchy feely crap like that. I just want...look, I am wanted by police.” Yeah, that was the understatement of the century, and he wasn’t certain Sam really understood the reality of the sitch. He was a prince and the royal family really wanted him back in their corner, dancing on their strings. “Wanted pretty much everywhere. If you and me are gonna be together, I gotta set up some safe havens, some fake IDs, crap like that for you. We need fall back plans and you gotta promise me one thing.” He paused making sure Sam understood he meant what he was about to ask. And it was important to him that Sam made that promise. “If things are going to hell around us and I tell you to run, you gotta run. We’ll meet up after, or if I get snagged, you can meet up with some of my associates who can work on getting my ass out of wherever I am. No hero stuff. Promise me,” he said, concern filling his emerald eyes.
“Dean,” Sam locked gazes with him. “I know you somehow got the idea that I’m some dumb kid who knows nothing about nothing, but that’s not how it is at all. Smugglers, remember?” He smiled and walked up to Dean, wrapping his arms around his mate’s stiff shoulders, massaging them with his thumbs. “I can navigate the galaxy, including stream jumps, in my head… to avoid detection. How many people do you know who can do that? And I know how to protect myself. And…” He was sure there was a lot more to say, but he got lost in Dean’s eyes, and words didn’t seem all that important anymore.
“I’m not saying you’re some dumb kid,” Dean said, staring right back into Sam’s eyes. “I’m saying that if they catch us together and figure out we’re bonded, we’re both fucked. The royal family does the whole torture thing--whether cooperation happens or not. I’m expecting you to have enough brains to get out safely so you can send others to rescue my ass if I don’t manage to get out. Sam, if I really thought you were some idiot kid, I’d be making plans to seal you up safe in a castle or something somewhere. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare the shit out of me, that they could use you against me.”
“Okay. You’re the hero,” Sam answered, making a reference to Dean’s own claim. “I’ll do what you ask, and I’ll save your ass if your ass needs saving.” He bumped against Dean, but let him go and stepped back. “I understand what I’m getting into.” He wished he knew what Dean needed to hear from him to erase the worry etched in his expression. He’d say anything. Do anything. Learn anything. Whatever it took.
“No, you really don’t,” Dean said, reaching out, stroking Sam’s cheek and along his jaw. “But we’ll tackle that as we have to. So what’s for dinner or lunch or whatever. I’m starved.” Dean forced a smile onto his face. God, what was he really getting Sam into? If anything happened to Sam….
The replicator gave a soft ding. “You asked for a sandwich, followed by pie and ice cream,” Sam reminded Dean, his heart skipping a beat at the caress. Would it always be like this? Would Dean’s touches forever affect him the way they did? He knew the answer was ‘yes,’ and it made him all sorts of warm.
Reluctantly, he pulled away and gave Dean his sandwich. Then he went and grabbed his own ice cream. “I need sugar energy,” he explained, a little self-consciously, as he brought his plate to the dining area of the kitchen, and sat down at the table, where Dean had already taken his own food.
“Nothing wrong with dessert first,” Dean said. “Not that my father would agree with that. Life’s too short to miss out on dessert though.” He breathed in the smell of the roast beef sandwich approvingly and accepted the plate, following Sam.
“So why don’t you tell me about some of your favorite misadventures, or things you like to do or whatever. I wanna learn everything about you,” Dean said and took a big bite of his sandwich, his attention solely focused on Sam.
* * *
In between kissing sessions, hot showers, and long bouts of sex that tightened their soul bond, Dean fixed the ship and got them on their way. When they were only an hour from docking, John Winchester’s worried, then angry voice, boomed over the com. Sam let his dad rant a while, then he announced that he was soulbonded.
They could still hear his father shouting but Sam muted their own side of the conversation and took Dean’s hand. “His bark is worse than his bite. Plus, you’re a rebel hero, you can deck him.” He flashed his mate a genuine grin. “As angry as I was when I first saw you, I… I don’t think I could be happier than I am right now, Dean.”
“And your father has all sorts of rights to be pissed as hell at me. For tons of reasons. At least he’s got an hour to cool off, or wind up,” he added as an afterthought. “How long do you figure his rant will go on once we land? I’m wondering if we should, you know, stock up on sex just in case.” Although his eyes showed some concern, his lewd smile at Sam was very real.
“Seriously?” Sam wasn’t waiting to be asked twice. Tugging Dean’s hand, he started to walk backwards, knowing he’d be pulled into Dean’s arms at any moment. “Stocking up sounds good, and you know, if it gets bad, I’ll just push myself into heat. He won’t be able to say anything if we disappear.”
Dean began laughing at that. “I like that plan. And Sam, you let me know if you start getting tender or anything from all the exercise and sex, okay? There are plenty of things we can do to switch things up, give certain parts a break.” He yanked Sam close and wrapped his arms securely around him. “Show me your dimples and those freaky white teeth in a perfect I-love-you smile. Then I’ll kiss you senseless.”
Grabbing Dean’s shirt, Sam slowly tugged Dean closer. “You can’t hurt me,” he said, giving his mate a broad smile. “I’ve never heard of anyone who has a thing for teeth…” His love for his mate was in his eyes, as their lips met, and they kissed with the fire of a thousand suns. It was a feeling that was now a part of him forever, and would never be extinguished. Ever.
* * *
Dean took a deep breath as the ship settled onto the tarmac and he shut the engines down. It was time to face the music. Normally he would have worried about Sam’s father trying to flat out shoot him, but with them being bonded, he knew the father couldn’t--wouldn’t dare. Dean vowed silently that the guy better not lay into Sam. This was all his fault, not Sam’s. He was to blame for the mess and he’d accept that blame. He didn’t shirk his responsibilities no matter what the rumors said. He was honorable--just shy of letting someone try to kill him at any rate.
“Do we need to be dressed special or anything? Do I look okay? Like, presentable for your father? Any special words I’m suppose to say other than sorry I stole your ship and your son?” Dean ran his fingers through his hair nervously. Yeah, he never had liked the meeting the parents thing.
“You look perfect. And you did steal me, didn’t you?” Sam really liked the sound of that. He took his hand and tugged him out of the captain’s chair, then looked at him as they walked down the corridor. “Just remember, he’s all bark.”
They could hear the doors grate open and then his father’s boots striking the metal floor as he approached them from the other end of the hall. “He was never very patient…” Sam explained.
“I’m real used to a lack of patience,” Dean said, sighing and squeezing Sam’s hand. “And he’s only all bark because of what it would do to you if he showed his bite, I bet.” He braced himself for being ripped up one side and down the other, if not simply punched out. Hell, if it was his kid, he’d wanna kill the thief too.
Sam laughed under his breath at the accuracy of Dean’s’ statement.
“You find something funny, Boy?” John Winchester demanded. But his eyes had already cut to the figure next to Sam. His gaze narrowed. The guy looked familiar. “You there, what business did you have breaking into my ship, you sonova… I oughta turn your worthless hide in, right now. Do you know this planet’s penalty for ship thieving? Take your hands off my son,” he demanded.
Sam quickly gripped Dean’s hand and defiantly raised his chin.
John ignored the familiar rebellion in his son’s eyes.
“I was looking to get back to base, sir,” Dean said. “I’m a Freedom Fighter, my ship got tagged, and,” he gave a shrug, “your ship looked like an easy target. I did a scan when I got on board, but Sam’s room must be shielded because I didn’t pick him up. If I’d known there was anyone on board, I never would have taken it. But you did lie on your docking papers about Sam’s presence. This planet frowns on falsifying docking papers too. Quite a bit, actually. Sir.” Dean walked a careful balance of respectful but also an attitude telling the guy not to bullshit him.
“Maldevian youths are targets in certain quadrants, so don’t you go questioning my actions, Boy.” John’s nostrils flared, frustration lighting his eyes. “Did you target this ship because of him?” he demanded, voicing one of his suspicions. “You don’t really expect me to believe that out of all the ships on this tarmac, you just happened to choose this one. Sam,” he nodded for his son to come to his side.
Sam shook his head, outright refusing to obey the order. “It’s like Dean said, he stole the ship and was surprised as hell when I found him. It was too late, we couldn’t land anywhere.”
“I don’t give a Goddamn fuck--”
“Well I do! We’re soul bonded now, and I’m glad. He’s…” Sam swallowed. “If you take time to get to know him, you’ll see he’s everything you would want in a son-in-law. Everything.”
“Sam, at a minimum, he’s a thief!”
“No, sir. At a minimum, I’m a survivor. And no I didn’t target the ship to try to get to Sam. Getting soul-bonded was not on my wish list for my life!” He glanced at Sam. “Not saying I don’t accept it, Sam, or that I’m not happy with it, just saying it wasn’t on my radar for a life long dream.”
Dean turned his attention back to John. He had to tell the guy, lay it all out, make it clear exactly what the man’s new situation was, as father and father-in-law. “I’m also...My grandfather is the King. I’m from the black sheep side of the family. My mother was Mary Campbell. They know I joined the Freedom Fighters and so...I’m a wanted man. Mostly the wanted posters are filled with lies about the things I’ve supposedly done.”
Now John understood why he thought he’d recognized the bastard. “Oh this just gets better and better. You’re a wanted man--”
“So are we, in some sectors,” Sam pointed out. “Father, we fight for the same cause. You call people just like Dean your brothers in arms.”
“This was not how I planned out your life.” John ran a hand over his face, trying not to notice how love struck his son was, how happy he seemed. “This is a catast--”
“I’m happy.” Releasing Dean’s hand, Sam walked to his father. “It wasn’t like with the passenger we had, where I didn’t want him but couldn’t help... I wanted it with Dean. I…”
“That fucking passenger was married, of course you didn’t want him.” John swore, but his gaze started to soften a little. He turned to Dean. “And what of you, Dean Campbell. You say you didn’t want this. What if there was a way to break--”
“There is no way to break a soul bond,” Sam said heatedly. As his father tried to continue the argument, Sam left him and went to Dean, catching his shirt. “I need…”
Dean pulled Sam close. “Let your father finish,” he said soothingly, but turned his attention on the man. “I said it wasn’t my life long dream, not that I didn’t want to stay in the relationship. But go on.” He rubbed a hand soothingly on Sam’s back. Sam was young and didn’t really understand the gravity of the situation and he wasn’t certain the father did either. It was always difficult determining exactly what people actually knew of Dean’s life
“There may be a way to break the bond, but there is a limited window. Once this heat period passes, there’s no chance of breaking it,” John Winchester said, completely avoiding his son’s eyes.
“There is no way of breaking the bond, you’ve said it to me a hundred times. We’re happy, we don’t need this kind of counseling!” Gripping Dean’s arm, Sam pulled him. “I don’t want to hear this.”
John Winchester’s gaze locked with Dean’s. A silent message was exchanged between the two men. The discussion was not at an end.
* * *
Hours later, John Winchester was drinking in the cockpit and staring out into space. He teetered back and forth, considering ramifications, his son’s future and happiness, and the lengths he would go to keep his only son safe.
Dean entered the cockpit and took the co-pilot’s chair, helping himself to a drink. Sam was happily lost in exhausted slumber. Dean had reluctantly left, thinking how Sam looked like a peaceful angel resting in his arms. He knew he could happily wake up to Sam every day for the rest of his life.
“I know you’re pissed. I would be, too. Flat out, this sucks. Because for the first time in my life, I feel happy and content. I don’t feel alone, and I gotta say, it’s the best I’ve ever felt. I don’t want it to end.” Dean took a deep drink, “But--”
John put his hand up. "You think I don't know that? Some seek out our youth to find something humans can’t give each other. A soul mate. That feeling of never being alone." He knocked back some more liquor, then looked over at Dean.
"My son, he might look grown up, but he is not equipped to deal with being in the thick of battle. He ... he plays war games on the galaxy system, he draws... comics... filled with superheroes. He thinks that’s what you are, I guaranty it. You're going to draw him into your world, and you're going to get him killed." A muscle throbbed in John's jaw. "Do you understand me? You're going to get my son killed."
Dean looked away from the man. He could try to deny it, deny that Sam would be in danger, that every moment at Dean’s side wouldn’t be a risk, but those would be lies. The only truth was that it didn’t matter whether Sam was innocent or a hard-assed deeply experienced Freedom Fighter. The extreme risk to his life would be there unless and until the FF was victorious over the royal family.
"I know," Dean said softly, still not meeting the man’s gaze. "My last partner… he was tortured and killed in front of me. All the skin on my back is only a few years old, regrown to replace the scar tissue from that… incident. You have to understand, the last thing I wanted was to endanger anyone, much less an inexperienced youth. As soon as I understood the problem, I had the ship drop out of the jump and was going to return when your flight computer fried. I saw two choices. Try to resist until I couldn't control myself and risk hurting Sam, or accept the risk of becoming soul-bound and making certain he was treated with care during his loss of virginity."
Dean shrugged helplessly. "I'd do it again, I'd make the same damned choice, take the same damned risk. If nothing else, I want you to believe that, to understand I did what I thought was best for your son. And I hoped it would work out."
"I want to hate you. To toss your ass out the airlock," John growled, then shook his head. "But I need to thank you, for showing him such consideration. You're an honorable man. Man...,” he shook his head. “You’re just a kid too, thrust into circumstances beyond your control." John was referring both to Dean's role in the war, and in the soul bonding. "In another time, another place, I might have gladly called you son-in-law," he grudgingly admitted. "But here, now? He is all I have. All that matters to me."
"Good to know you've listened to the right people and not the King’s Guards about my character," Dean said ruefully. "I do the best I can, but I'm nowhere near perfect or heroic. I just wanna be able to look myself in the eye every night before I go to bed, you know?"
Dean gave a sigh. "You need to know, Sam's...he's ready to grow up. He wants to grow up. He wants his life, not what you have planned for him. You're losing him, John. He was contemplating running away. If you want to keep him, protect him, you need to start treating him like the adult he legally is. You've got to let him fall and get bloodied and pick himself back up. He's stronger than you think even if he does have a lot of growing to do." Dean watched the man to see how he was taking his words.
"You don't understand how at risk our youth are, until they can control their heat cycles, so don't you go lecturing me on keeping him under my wing. I looked away for one minute, and look what happened." He let out a frustrated breath. "Maybe you should look up trafficking of Maldevians."
His plan for his son would have given Sam the perfect life. If the soul bonding had taken with John’s close friend's daughter, Sam would have inherited an industrial empire on the planet Malder. He'd have been set for life, especially if the war went the way John wanted it to go.
"You have to let Sam go,” John said. “You have to, if you don't want him to end up the way... I don't want to hurt you, but I'd rather hurt both of you than have to bury my son." John's nostrils flared. "I'm begging you, let him go."
"I'm not lecturing,” Dean snapped. “I'm telling you the hard, cold facts. He will find his own way if you don't start listening to him and give him some control over his life. He will leave… and probably follow after me or my ways. Follow after the superheroes in his comics. You need to be his hero, John. Stop being his father all the time and sometimes just be his friend," Dean said, almost pleading, for the moment ignoring the man's own request that he let Sam go. He desperately wanted to make sure Sam didn't run away from his father’s protection if Dean did find the strength to do what he knew was right.
John noticed that although Dean hadn't answered his plea, he hadn't outright refused. The kid no longer looked defiant, just worried, and maybe a little sad. Maybe a little resigned. "Son, if you agree to what I'm asking, neither of us will be his hero." Those were the cold hard facts, too. "But I will try. I'll try," he said, a little hoarsely.
Looking away from the man, Dean clenched his jaw. Sam wouldn't understand. No matter what Dean told him, or what his father told him, he would feel betrayed. And maybe Dean was betraying him. But Sam needed his father; he just didn't realize how much. The galaxies treated a person without family, alone and poor, with brutality. Dean knew that first hand.
"Then I guess we have to make sure he puts all the blame on me, don't we?" Dean gave a nod and swallowed hard, a tear trickling down his face. "I'm just a thief. Money is all I care about, right? So this was all a plan to win him over and steal him away. Sam should’a trusted his gut about me. Those of royal blood supposedly have mental crap to make people believe what we want them to. Tell him that's what I did to him. Show him all those rumors and wanted posters that destroy my character. Convince him.”
Dean's voice cracked as he asked, "What do I have to do to break this damned bond."
John's eyes grew moist. He put his hand on the youth's back, nodding, knowing the price Dean was paying for his son's sake. "Sometimes the world is a thankless place, and no one ever knows what heroes give up."
He gave Dean a moment, but he needed it himself, knowing he was not only tearing the soul out of this noble warrior, but crushing his beloved son's heart.
"I'll need to put him out, and tie him down. Keep him in his room alone until this entire heat cycle passes." He knew his son would be screaming for his soul mate. "You don't have to be there." He took a breath. "You'll take the suppressants I brought for him. It's what traffickers use to prevent the johns from bonding with captive Maldevians. If it is administered to a human who has only partially bonded, it can reverse the process."
John ran a hand over his face. "I will have you bound up in sickbay for his first few cycles, until the drug takes effect, and cuts off the feedback between you. When you are able to resist, I'll let you go. And you go as far as you can, and as long as you feel him reaching for you, you take those pills. Until the feelings are gone."
Dean shook his head, his voice hoarse. "No. I have to knock him out. I have to knock you out, too, lock you both in his room or the brig. And I have to leave. You can't be involved. He's not stupid, not anywhere close to it. I'm a good actor and I have a pretty damned strong will. I'll stay away. I'll get away. He can't suspect you had a part in this beyond me blackmailing you with threats if you didn't pony up a lot of money."
A sad smile pulled at the corner of John’s mouth. "You can't fight the bond. And it's not just a matter of staying away, the drugs will help you reject him. And leaving me in the brig waiting for rescue will put both of us at risk. This is the only way. The only one," he insisted.
"You'll lose him," Dean said. "He'll hate you. He'll blame you. You know that. If you lose him, what the hell's point? Since I can’t keep him safe, it has to be you! I'll convince him this was my choice, that I asked you to break the bond. So let's get this started," Dean said miserably.
John gave a nod. Patting Dean's shoulder, he got up.
Before going to Sam's room, they stopped by the brig. John opened a desk drawer nearby and selected some cuffs, closed his eyes and dropped them. Running a hand over his face, he thought about how he could provide some cushioning for Sam’s wrists.
"Wrist guards," he said out loud, walking into the small armory, and selecting a pair of leather wrist guards. By the time he got back, his features were set, determined. Grabbing the cuffs, and an extra pair for Dean, he started to walk. "If he starts going into a heat cycle, you book it out of there, or it's all over."
"He can bring on his heat cycle. He did it when you first came on board. Just so you know," Dean said. "How badly--how badly is this going to hurt him?" he asked quietly.
"He's learning to control it already?" John raised a brow. His shoulders sagged a little at Dean's question. "You'll know. His suffering will be your suffering, until the drugs start to protect you."
When they reached Sam's room, Dean held out his arm across John's chest. "No. This is for me to do. He starts bringing on the heat...I'll punch him." He gave a one shouldered shrug. "I've done worse," he said quietly, grabbed the leather wrist guards and the cuffs to go over them, and slipped into what had, ever so briefly, been their room.
Sam was still sleeping. Dean sat on the bed, gently stroking Sam's cheek. He couldn't show Sam he cared. He had to bury his feelings, his own desires. It was easy when he put Sam's face in the place of his previous love's when the royal guards were torturing him. He planted a soft kiss to Sam's temple, then schooled his features.
He was gentle, trying hard not to wake Sam as he began to attach the leather and metal bindings to the youth's wrists.
Sam made a soft sound, smiling a little as he rolled more onto his back. “Got hungry, huh. Did you get me ice cream?” he asked, opening his eyes. He looked up at his wrist, and didn’t fight when Dean got busy binding his other one. A dark flush crept up his face. “I saw this in a skin mag. I didn’t know that you were into…” Maybe they were going a little fast with getting wild and crazy, but he’d go with whatever Dean wanted.
Dean clenched his jaw and quickly fastened the other one. “Remember when I told you that you don’t know who I really am?” he finally said.
“Yeah.” Sam gave an embarrassed laugh. “I didn’t know this was what you meant.” He tried to reach up, to draw Dean’s face toward him, but the bindings stopped him. “It’s alright, but you should kiss--” He noticed the tension in Dean’s expression, the lack of even a hint of a smile. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did I say something…”
“I’m not a Freedom Fighter. I’m not a hero. I’m a thief who saw an opportunity. That’s all. You father’s met my demands, so have a good life, kid. And next time a thief comes aboard your ship, shoot him, you idiot. No matter how damned hot you think he is.” Dean took one last look at Sam and turned on his heel, heading for the door.
Sam sat up so fast, he hurt himself on the cuffs. “Dean… Dean?” He reached out with his soul, seeking his partner, his mate. “This is silly… Dean?” His heart thumped hard against his chest as he tried to push away the last remnants of sleep, and to reconcile the ugly words with the love Sam felt in his heart, in his soul.
“You love me, you do. Come back…” Tears sprang to Sam’s eyes. “It’s my father, isn’t it. Dean I swear, we … you and I… we can go away, until he sees…” He didn’t believe Dean would walk out on him, it was virtually impossible. And those mates that managed, suffered terribly.
Dean didn’t dare answer, didn’t dare even slow. He focused on simply getting out the door, of imagining it was Sam they were torturing, and he’d do absolutely anything to protect Sam. Anything.
He stepped out the doorway and the door slid shut. The pain ripped through him like a blaster to his gut. As much as the sex had been exquisite pleasure and sheet erotic fire, now his veins iced and his insides twisted inside out. He started to turn, to tell Sam it would be okay, that he’d never leave him, that he’d always protect him--It was then that his world went dark and he collapsed to the floor.
John Winchester stood over Dean with a hypo filled with sedative.
* * *
After he’d bound Dean in the sickbay, John awakened him and quickly gave him a large dose of the suppressant. Even before Dean swallowed the pills down, John saw the sheen of sweat forming across his brow.
“It would be ten times worse if he was calling for you as your enemies ripped him apart,” John said. These weren’t words of comfort, but men like himself, like Dean, could take comfort in them when they were protecting someone. “In a few cycles, you should be able to resist him.”
He started to strip Dean of his shirt and pants. “For your comfort, he explained. He’d already stripped his son free of most of his clothing.
Dean didn’t argue. He repeated the man’s words over and over in his head as he felt Sam reaching for him, screaming in agony for him, begging him to come back. Even with the mantra, and picturing Sam in place of Gabriel, his last love, the tears flowed from his eyes. But he didn’t beg John to let him go. He wouldn’t. It was for Sam. To save Sam. For Sam… his Sammy….
“If you need anything…” John set a remote control next to Dean’s hand, “...press red for the call button. Unless you want me to stay.”
“I’m very good at getting out of chains,” Dean said, tugging unintentionally at them, measuring their strength, trying to see the locks. “You better stay for a bit because…” Dean bit back a scream as the horrible pain tore through him. He twisted and writhed, even tried to break his hand so he could slip free of the cuff. The agony was almost worse than agonies he’d endured under the king’s orders. His vision darkened but he wasn’t given the respite of passing out and the screams escaped him, shouting for Sam and telling him he loved him, that he wouldn’t leave him.
Sometime during that time he wrenched his right shoulder out of it’s socket as he fought against the bindings. He tried to kick the man that stood nearby, spitting vile curses at him, promised that he’d kill him for this, for betraying him and betraying Sam. The screams seemed endless. The pain seemed endless. Until it finally all went blissfully dark.
Between Dean’s tortured yells, and his own son’s, John had been close to tearing one of them free and letting them have each other. He’d given both of them water, had been insulted and heard their pleas, and he’d done something he hadn’t in a long time. Prayed. Prayed this would be over soon.
They’d been through two heat cycles. He was in the sickbay again, staring unseeingly at the entertainment panel. Dean’s gaze appeared to be focused on it as well, but John was certain the boy was no more interested in it than he was.
He looked down at the remote in his own hand and slid his hand over its gleaming surface. He could watch over his son at the same time. “I think you’re in for another wave,” he said, his free hand clenching into a tight ball as he watched his son writhe. He’d heard him shout, ‘I beg you, father,’ and he’d muted the sound.
“Yeah,” Dean said, his voice hoarse from his screams and shouts. The pain circled through him like a vicious serpent in his veins, biting and tearing at nerves. Even so, it was a little better, and he hated the fact that he couldn’t feel Sam quite as well as he had.
“When this passes,” he winced and tugged lightly at the cuffs, “I think maybe I should leave. Does...does distance help?”
“Yes.” It was mostly a lie, but after all that he’d given up, and the torture he’d endured, a little peace of mind was the least John could give to Dean. Getting up, he brought a new icepak and put it on Dean’s forehead, then wiped his body down with cold water.
“When my wife passed away, it was like this. First when she was torn from the world of the living. And then during the first series of my own heat cycles. I know it is a terrible thing that I asked of you.”
“Go through this now and walk away to know Sam will live a full and hopefully happy life, or go through it in a year or two when one of us gets careless, or just has a bad day, and Sam is killed because of me. I’ll take the glass half-full, thanks,” Dean said. He’d tried to believe he and Sam could do it, could be together, somehow, but that just wasn’t the way his life worked. His family was cursed. And he wouldn’t share that curse with Sam.
Standing next to the bed, one hand on the railing, John stood silent, listening to Dean.
“When he’s older, try to make him understand why I felt I had to do this. I didn’t think he was a kid, that he couldn’t take care of himself. I’ve had too many people die, and I couldn’t lose him that way too. Besides, if I live to see twenty five it’ll be a miracle.” He tried to give John something of a smile but it turned into a grimace as the pain skittered over his nerves again and he inhaled a sharp breath. “Fuckkkk,” he hissed. “Go to him. He needs you.”
John scowled. The fact that the medication wasn’t helping Dean that much was a bad sign. All this would be for nothing if the bond refused to break. “I’ll be right back,” John said, knowing his son all too well, knowing Sam would order him out.
* * *
John tried talking to Sam as he cleansed his sweat drenched body. Though his son shouted in pain, physical, mental, and spiritual, he no longer looked at him. No longer pleaded or tried to bargain. No longer argued. And that scared John more than anything.
Were the last words he’d ever hear from his son be “father, I beg you?”
Though Sam was stubborn and willful, they had a close relationship. John had to believe after this was over, when the connection was broken and his son could think more clearly, they would find their way back to each other. Then he would do his very best to make Sam happy, be it by going through with bonding him to his friend’s daughter, or some other way. He’d listened to what Dean told him. At the same time, there was no reason Sam couldn’t find perfect happiness with someone compatible, but John would not rush or force him.
“Sam. Sammy,” he said thickly, holding his son’s jaw to make him look at him. “I love you. Never doubt that. I love you, Son.”
* * *
Before entering the sick bay, John wiped his tears. “Fighters. The both of you,” he said gruffly.
“It’s easing some,” Dean said. It wasn’t a complete lie. Sam’s calls to him had become more distant sounding, almost muffled. Every moment it happened, Dean felt his heart breaking a little more. “Why would anyone want this?” he whispered, finding the damned tears coming back into his eyes.
“No one wants this.” John pretended not to notice Dean’s tears. “Do you want me to unbind you? I’ll make sure you stay put.” There was nothing he could do for his son, but if Dean had reached the point of being able to fight it, there was no need to punish his body with the bindings.
“When you unbind me, I should leave. After the next heat passes. And be sure to take Sam some ice cream. He asked me for it when I was...was in there. But I wouldn’t mind a shot of whiskey,” Dean said. “A tall shot.”
John choked on a sob, and moved well away from the bed, giving Dean his back. Ice cream. Sam was truly a child. And Dean, also not much past childhood. Neither of them deserved to be put through this.
“I’ll get the liquor,” he said brokenly, walking to the door.
While Dean showered, John had Dean’s clothes cleansed. And after he came out, he gave Dean a piece of paper. “You said you’re in need of a ship. Go to this place, mention my name, and they will give you whatever you need.” It sounded so damned impersonal, and after what they’d been through, there was no reason for it. John took a step toward the youth and gave him a hug, slapping his back lightly. “This will pass. You just keep taking your pills until there are no more twinges.”
Dean accepted the paper and gave a nod. He was surprised by the hug. When was the last time he’d been hugged like family? He couldn’t recall. He awkwardly hugged John back. “If you can convince him I’m just a bastard--that might be better for both of you. If you want to tell him the truth--do what feels right, whatever you think will help him heal the most.”
Dean stepped out of the hug. He slipped a small crystal into his wristband, typed in a few motions, then pulled the crystal out. “If you email or call this guy, he can get me a message. I’d like to know...I’d like to know Sammy’s all right, that I didn’t fuck up his life like everything else I touch, y’know? Just drop me a note every once in a while. Keep him safe.” Dean wanted to tell the man he’d work to make his life safer, that he’d wait until Sam got some more growing up done in the safety of his fairly innocent life, then beg Sam to come back to him, but the words caught in his throat. The only way Sam would stay safe would be if Dean simply vanished. “If you can do a memory wipe on him...that might be best.” He lifted the slip of paper. “Thanks for this.”
John accepted the crystal. “You can wipe a mind, but a soul…” He wanted to offer Dean words of comfort. “I’ll let you know about his progress. He’s not one to give up or take it on the chin and never get up again. In a few months, I expect he’ll be talking to me again,” he chuckled, though the laughter did not reach his eyes. “If you need to get a message to me, my associate can get them to me,” he said, nodding at the paper in Dean’s hand. “Oh, and make sure he gives you one hundred royal credits. Bastard has owed me forever…”
Dean gave a huff of a laugh. “I’ll collect. With interest.” He kept wanting to say he was sorry, he’d fucked up everything, but the man knew he was sorry, that Dean hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. It didn’t change a damned thing. With a final forced smile, Dean turned and walked away, not looking back. He knew if he did, he’d never make it off the ship. Even so, a part of him was left behind and always would be.
Several days after Sam’s last heat, John still couldn’t get his son to look at him, or to talk to him. He hadn’t lied to Sam, because deep down, he knew Sam wouldn’t fall for it. All he’d said to Sam was that Dean’s life was too dangerous for a young boy like Sam. Maybe if his son had been more responsive, he’d have talked about it more. But his son was stubborn and kept to himself, refusing to even have his meals at the kitchen table.
John didn’t push him.
He’d landed the craft on a small planet where he had a delivery to make. It was just the sort of planet Sam would love. Old fashioned and buzzing with energy. Now that he had suppressants, John would let him come out with him.
When he got to Sam’s room and the door slid open, he saw that Sam was asleep. The heat cycles and uncoupling had taken their toll on his boy. He needed a lot of rest.
Telling himself it would be fine, John left the room.
The minute he heard the main doors of the ship open, Sam’s eyes popped open and he sat up. He quickly moved to his desk and he waved his hand over the sensor. A virtual keyboard appeared and he quickly started executing the coding that would prevent the ship from telling his father that the main doors had opened after John had left.
He didn’t need his father. He didn’t need Dean. With friends and family like that, who needed enemies?
Ignoring the sharp pain in his chest, Sam grabbed his pack. Everything important to him was in there, together with all the credits he’d saved up for running away.
He looked down at his drawing of Dean, his jaw clenching. Then he strode out of the room, and off the ship.
* * *
It had been three months since Sam had taken off, but to look at John Winchester, one would think years had passed. Worry and sadness had taken a toll on the man.
He hadn’t sat on his hands. He’d searched for his son high and low. In between taking care of hauls for the rebellion’s cause, he searched and paid for information on the sorts of houses of ill repute that might love to get their hooks into a young Maldevian. But there were so many planets, so many star systems, it was like hunting for a speck of dust in space.
In all his worry, it hadn’t even crossed his mind to let Dean know. Even if he’d thought of it, he probably wouldn’t have done it. The young man had enough to deal with and needed to focus on the war effort.
Then one day he was contacted by a Freedom Fighter and told to expect a video conference from Dean. John sat in the cockpit, more alone than ever, waiting for the call.
Dean waited for the scrambled video link to connect. His palms felt sweaty and his stomach was full of butterflies, something he was not used to feeling. When the screen lit up with John’s picture, he was startled at how world weary the man looked, how aged. His eyes scanned the room. “John, you look like crap. Where’s Sam? Is he there?” He couldn’t help the hopeful note that crept into his voice. The young man’s visage invaded his dreams every night.
Seeing the jagged red scar on Dean’s forehead, and other telltale signs of recent injuries, John answered, “I could say the same about you. I thought you were going out there to kick ass, not get your ass kicked.”
“You should see the other guys,” Dean said, not wanting to go into the details of half their base--and far too many freedom fighters--getting blown to hell. “Sam?”
John didn’t want to be having this conversation. “He’s not here. I don’t know…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know where my son is. You warned me, but I…” Putting his hands down on either side of the screen, he leaned in. “He’s gone.”
Dean grimaced but couldn’t say he was surprised. “I’m sorry. Again,” he said, wiping his hand over his face and wincing as his fingers brushed over some of the new scars. “I can tell you Sam eats his ice cream at the weirdest freaking hours, not that that’ll help you find him. I can always tell when he’s on an ice cream binge though, I get this big-assed cold flower in my stomach.”
“You feel him still? My boy is alive?” John let out a deep breath. His eyes grew moist. “You’re sure about the ice cream? It could be your imagination.” He ran a hand over his own face, telling himself not to be so pessimistic. But he also knew if Dean still felt him, it meant…
“I never had ice cubes in my gut waking me up at all hours before. So, yeah, I’m certain. Sometimes I can even get a hint of the flavor. The one that comes through the most is this fruity thing, which doesn’t go well with coffee or alcohol. He’s ruined a couple decent glasses of bourbon with that damned fruity ice cream,” Dean grumbled. He sat back and picked up a cup of coffee and took a sip. “One of the main reasons I called was to give Sam a bit of hell for that and for what I’ve been seeing circulating. If you thought Sammy was dead, then I’m guessing you haven’t seen this.” Dean held up a comic book named Citizen 67. The hero on the cover definitely had the look of Dean about him.
John raised a hand up. “Give me a moment.” The lump in his throat was making it difficult to talk. He’d never gotten emotional from being happy before. Well, perhaps he had, the day his son was born.
He stared at the comic, then looked down. “No,” John said thickly, before looking up. “He’s alive, and not imprisoned somewhere. He’s having ice cream and drawing. I don’t know if I want to hug him or wring his neck.”
“Maybe a little of both would be in order. There’s propaganda artwork popping up on the internet, in graffiti, all over the place. He’s turning me into a freaking Icon or something. Thankfully not a lot of people have connected it’s me he’s drawing. The guys I work with have started calling me Citizen 67 though.” Dean shook his head. “I don’t know whether to laugh or strangle him either.”
“It could be worse.” John managed a smile. “If he’d been a few years older, you might have ended up Citizen 69 or … well, let’s not go there. I’ll look his work up, and try to connect with him. Maybe he’s cooled down by now.” He gave a nod, “Thank you. You have no idea how rough it’s been.”
Dean’s head fell forward and he shuddered at the thought of x-rated drawings of himself circulating. “I’d never live that down. Thank god he was something of an innocent about that. Good luck on finding him, John. We’ve tried tracking him down and so has the military. They don’t like the bad press and propaganda. Wherever he’s hiding, it’s good, and his encryption is amazing. The comics and art on the internet ricochet among hundreds of servers. Something else too. We’ve had a few Freedom Fighters get caught with their pants down, gotten their ships shot up, computers damaged. Some flight wizard, calls himself Castiel, he suddenly comes across on their comms and gives them calculations to make a jump to someplace safe. Could that be Sammy? Only reason I’m thinking it might be is...well, Citizen 67 has a sidekick sometimes, an angel who watches over him named Castiel.”
John swore, then standing up, paced away and came back. “That boy… we tried to keep him out of this war, on the peripherals, and he…” Then he started to chuckle. “It’s him. His pet monkey was Castiel.” He shook his head. “I suppose you’re going to tell me the villain in his comics is one Captain John?” He didn’t even mind, he was just elated that Sam was okay.
Dean actually broke into laughter. “No, not exactly a villain. More like an antagonistic guy that sometimes helps, sometimes doesn’t, and loves to bark orders and not listen to either Castiel or Citizen 67. He does cause problems for them sometimes. He’s called The Sergeant. And he has a temper. But Castiel still makes excuses for him, telling Citizen 67 that he means well, most times anyhow. So I’d say Sam might be angry with you, but he doesn’t hate you. Yeah, you really need to check out the graphic novels.”
“I hope they’re not as ‘graphic’ as the ones he left behind. I got an eyeful of… “ He stared at Dean. “...you can imagine.” They really hadn’t been that graphic, just full of a young boy’s hopes and dreams, the fantasies he supposed he’d torn to shreds, and apparently for no reason, since he hadn’t been able to keep Sam out of the war anyways. “It’ll be the first thing I do when I hit land.”
The screen started to go fuzzy, which meant the resistance was about to re-scramble the signal. “Take care. Try not to get yourself killed or scarred, or you won’t be so pretty, Citizen 67.”
“If you find him, tell him to be careful. You too, Sergeant,” Dean said and watched the image disappear. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been hoping to see Sam until he wasn’t there. He stared at the blank screen a moment longer, then climbed to his feet and headed out to the command center, the comic tucked into his back pocket.
* * *
A year and half passed and John’s efforts to find Sam were no more successful than they had been before he’d gotten confirmation his son was alive. He continued smuggling weapons and supplies to the Freedom Fighters and used every spare second he had hunting for his son.
Many in the resistance knew of Sam as the artist, or the escapist… but no one actually knew what he looked like, or where he was. Or if they knew, no one was talking.
At his wits ends, John Winchester did something crazy and stupid. He intentionally trapped himself in enemy territory, then cut his engines. Everything set on manual, he waited, and waited, sweat dripping from his forehead as he watched the view screen. If he stayed here, he’d be caught. And once they locked in on him, he couldn’t use the computers to generate a jump location, because that information would be compromised.
Just as a pair of tracking beams lasered towards him, he heard a voice come across the com.
“If you want to live, follow my instructions, exactly. “Input vector six, coordinates 80 degrees by 30, sector Delta Majoris. Vector stabilization--”
“Sam. Sam listen to me…” John inputted his son’s provided jump instructions, but he couldn’t help trying to talk to him. He was afraid of what would happen the moment Sam got him out of this self-imposed jam of his.
“Vector stabilization position, x:3897337, y:289993393, z: 2.009462. Speed, mark 8 for three minutes, de-accelerate to mark 5 and watch out for the space station. Go.”
John stared straight ahead as the ship jumped through space, leaving the enemy behind. Keeping his eye on the time, he manually went from mark 8 to 5, then it took all of his experience to keep the ship steady as he entered a star system hundreds of light years away from his previous position.
“All right. Space station duly noted, collision averted,” he said automatically. “Sam. Please Son, I need to talk to you.”
“You’re safe, and there’s nothing to talk about.”
The crackling sound indicating the signal was about to be scrambled scared John shitless. “Please. I’m begging you, Son.”
“Yeah. I think I did too,” Sam answered before the line went dead.
John slammed his hand on the dashboard. I’m begging you, father. Those had been Sam’s last words to him. He’d never forget them. Never stop being haunted by them.
* * *
[A few years later]
The war was over. There were celebrations everywhere. Every planet, every system that had been under the rule of the royals and was now free was throwing victory parades and parties. Sam watched the news feed view screens switching from one planet to another, showing the people reveling in the streets, on stages, and in taverns.
A few times, he caught screen shots of Dean. The heir apparent for the throne, only for his own planet though. The wars had been about putting an end to his family’s and his planet’s grip on the many other systems.
And then he caught sight of his father - with Dean. His father had an arm around Dean, but he was clearly looking at the cameras. Sam knew it was a plea that he return to him. Tears pricked his eyes. Things could have been … it could have been the three of them celebrating.
The picture slipped away and he kept trying to find another channel showing the celebrations. Quite a few focused on Dean, but Sam only caught glimpses of his dad.
His heart ached. It ached, but he didn’t know a way home. Everything was different now.
* * *
[One week after the end of the war]
Sam sat in a bar, wearing a hoodie, and kicking back. He’d ordered a few shots, but was concentrating on the most delicious bowl of violet flavored ice cream he’d ever tasted. Spoonful after spoonful disappeared into his mouth, filling a gaping hole in his soul.
Dean wandered the streets. He was more than ready to get out of the limelight. He hated all the attention. He hated being reminded that the throne was his. He didn’t want the damned thing. He was still arguing with the Freedom Fighters and everyone from his homeworld. His half-brother Adam would make a helluva lot better ruler than he ever would. He’d be willing to be the royal advisor or something, and he knew Adam would take care of the people. Adam had been a medic in the war, working for the FF. Dean was good at fighting. Adam was good at taking care of people. It made perfect sense. But Adam was reluctant to accept Dean’s offer, in part because Dean, Citizen 67, was popular with the people. If Dean had any say in the matter, he’d up and disappear, but he knew if he did, there would be cries of foul play and the whole mess could get out of control.
An explosion of cold filled his stomach and Dean nearly doubled over from it. It was the strongest he’d ever felt it and his eyes widened. Sam was here, in this city, someplace…
Dean straightened and slowly turned around, nurturing that little spot inside of him that he’d never been able to let go of. He knew the truth, though he hadn’t been able to tell John. He hadn’t completely severed the bond with Sam. He’d stopped taking the drugs when he still had half a bottle left. He’d told himself he didn’t need them anymore, when the reality was he didn’t want to let go of Sam. They couldn’t be together back then, he’d known that. So many people had died. People close to him, friends...the thought of losing Sam was just too terrifying. But he’d been selfish and hung onto that last little thread of their bond.
In truth, he hadn’t been with anyone since Sam, because he couldn’t bring himself to be with anyone else. He didn’t want anyone else. Sure he’d kissed and done some making out now and again, but he never let it get past what amounted to cuddling. He’d told everyone after losing his lover to the royals, he wasn’t willing to risk it again, and that he wanted to focus on the war.
Dean’s eyes narrowed and he began walking, hardly seeing those around him, ignoring any recognition lighting the faces of the people he passed. He was on a mission. The most important one of his life. It never even crossed his mind that Sam wouldn’t want to see him.
Dean stopped for a moment at the door of a bar. Sam was inside. He knew it, in his heart and his gut, he knew it. After taking a deep breath, he walked inside.
Scanning the occupants of the bar, his gaze suddenly stopped, focusing on a guy at the bar, hidden under a hoodie and eating ice cream. He strode toward the person, the tingling inside him growing stronger with each step. Without any hesitation, he grabbed the guy’s shoulder, an explosion of fire slamming into him, and he spun the guy to face him. With just one brief look to confirm what his heart already knew, he pulled Sam up against him and began kissing him.
Before he could protest the manhandling, Sam found himself pulled into some guy’s arms. In a millisecond, he knew it wasn’t just some guy, it was Dean. The boy of his dreams. The pain in his heart. The reason he trusted no one to get up close and personal with him.
Even as the conflicting thoughts ripped through him, Sam couldn’t help responding. Winding his arms around Dean’s shoulders, he kissed him back with everything he had. Time seemed to stand still, allowing him this moment of pure joy and happiness. But eventually, he became aware of the sounds around them.
Sliding his hand between them, he pushed Dean lightly as he broke their kiss. His chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths, and his gaze roved hungrily over the guy who’d haunted his dreams. He smiled, “Hello Dean. I think you forgot the part where you tell me what a cute, tight ass I have.” Sam had memorized every word of their conversations, played them back in his mind over and over.
“That’s cause I was too busy kissing you to get a look at it,” Dean said, his voice husky with emotion. “Dammit, when the hell did you grow taller than me?” he asked, looking up into Sam’s face. “And better looking than me?” he added, wanting to pull Sam back into another mind-numbing kiss.
Chuckling because there was no way in hell he was better looking than Dean, that anyone in any verse was better looking. Even the pale scars marking Dean’s face didn’t detract from his looks, but gave him a mysterious edge. Stepping back, Sam sat back down and motioned for Dean to sit next to him.
The bartender saw a new patron and walked over. “Let me guess, you’ll have ice cream.”
Dean laughed, glancing at Sam. “No. I’ll take a whiskey--” he started to say, then noticed the ice cream still in Sam’s bowl. “Strike that, make it a coffee, but give it a light spike of something.”
The bartender looked between the two men, gave a half shrug and turned away to get Dean his order.
Dean turned to Sam, his gaze sliding over the man, noticing all the changes the youth had come into. “I’d ask if you’re in a relationship but...I know you’re not. I’m sorry. Sorry I didn’t have the strength to let you go completely, like I should have. Can you still...sense me?” he asked quietly.
“No. I don’t feel you anymore, Dean.” Sam gave a small smile. “I’d really rather not talk about it. Here comes your coffee.”
“You...you don’t?” Dean asked, a wave of hurt crashing over him. He glanced at the bartender. “Double shot of whiskey, neat,” he told him, and forced himself to keep his hand steady as he took a sip of the coffee, not looking at Sam. This was a mistake. He should just leave. Maybe he wasn’t still bonded to Sam. Maybe it was some of those freaky psychic talents some of the royals had that he’d always refused to acknowledge, let alone use.
Sam searched Dean’s profile. “You seem upset, but…” He cocked his head to the side. “You should be glad. You got what you wanted.” Though he couldn’t really understand why or how anyone could reject what they’d had together.
He stirred his spoon in the ice cream, turning part of it to mush as he struggled to find an explanation for Dean’s mood. “You know, the war is over. You’re probably finding yourself at loose ends, thinking about things that could have been.” Sam patted Dean’s back. “You’ll be king soon, and you’ll have more than you ever wanted. Men and women will faint at your feet,” he teased, though the thought of Dean with others still hurt. So often he’d tried to create a love interest for Citizen 67, but he’d never been able to do it. Ridiculous as it was, he’d have been jealous of a fictional character.
“What I wanted was you, safe. And if you knew the truth of how many died at my side, literally, you’d understand,” Dean said, his words more bitter than he’d intended. “I’m not taking the throne. I don’t want it. Never did.” He took the drink the bartender set in front of him and downed the whiskey. He gave a soft hiss at the burn.
“You should forgive your father. He only gave me the means and he was terrified of having to bury his son because of me. I gave you up because I was certain someone would get to you, someone would hurt you, torture you, or kill you, because of me. He worries about you and would like to see you.” Dean pulled some money out and tossed it onto the bar. “Take care, Castiel. Find a good life. I apparently threw mine away.” He knew if he looked at Sam again he wouldn’t be able to walk away. So he didn’t look at him again, thought he wanted to, more than anything. He turned to leave, burying the emotions that he couldn’t deal with at the moment. All he could grab onto was the fact that at least he knew and didn’t have to wonder any more.
Sam didn’t even have time to process that Dean knew he was Castiel before Dean was up and leaving. Though Sam had stayed clear of Dean for years, despite opportunities to run into him, the thought of Dean just leaving had Sam reeling.
He reached out and grabbed Dean’s arm. When Dean didn’t turn, Sam got off the stool. “I thought we’d have little more time. I’m not quite ready to let you go,” he said, moving in front of Dean. “But if you have to go, I get it…” he felt his eyes sting with tears, because he didn’t get it. Not then, not now, not ever. He leaned in, cupped the back of Dean’s head, and kissed him softly, memorizing his taste and the way he felt. Then he whispered against his ear, “You didn’t waste your life…”
Dean grabbed onto the kiss like a dying man but it was over too fast as far was he was concerned. “Apparently I did. I worked so hard to make it safe for us to be together, but you let me go a long time ago. Maybe John’s right. Maybe it’s all in my head.” Dean clutched Sam tightly, swallowing back his tears and pain. How could he be so fucking stupid to think Sam would wait on him when he was the one who’d left?
Grabbing Dean’s arm again, Sam dragged him out of the bar without paying for his ice cream or anything. Once they were outside, he pushed his hoodie off and stared angrily at Dean. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t let you go. I begged you, I called you, I… how can you say that to me!” He shoved Dean, his eyes filling with tears. “The last words you ever said to me were lies. Are you really gonna leave me with more lies. Are you?” He demanded, his jaw so tight it ached.
“If you don’t feel me, you sure as hell let me go!” Dean snapped back at him. “Because I know it when you eat ice cream at all fucking times of the night and day and the ice explodes in my stomach like...like brain freeze. And that damned fruity taste that so doesn’t go with a good bourbon. And who in their right mind puts cabbage on their burgers? You drink so much freaking soda, how your teeth aren’t all cavities is beyond me! I taste it, Sam. When you really like something, I taste it too. I know when you jack off in the shower. When the anniversary of our bonding comes around and you get yourself so shitfaced drunk that you pass out! And I dream about you every night. Every. Single. Night.” Dean was breathing hard, torn between wanting to punch Sam, or kiss him, or run away… or even just blow his own brains out because if it was over and Sam didn’t want him… what was the fucking point of it?
“But you broke…” Tears streamed down Sam’s face as he tried to understand how this was even possible. He wanted to rail at Dean, call him a liar again, but there was too much truth in his words. Not just in his words, but in his display of raw emotions. “You shouldn’t have felt any of that, you…” He wiped his tears and blew out a few breaths. “I take a double dose of suppressants. Every day. So no one can tell I’m Maldevian, and so I’ll never get soul-bonded again.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe… you think … the suppressent blocks...” And the bigger question was, where did that leave them?
Dean looked down and shook his head. “You father told me to take the whole bottle. I didn’t. I couldn’t stand not feeling you, not knowing if you were okay. It was… it was like watching Gabriel getting tortured and killed by the royals all over again, every day, every night. So I stopped taking the pills about three days after I left.” He finally lifted his head, his gaze meeting Sam’s. “I could still feel you. It was just a small little thing like a grain of sand, but it was you. I told myself the bond was broken, that you’d be able to move on. Find another love… but I wanted you to wait for me. In my heart, I wanted you to wait.”
“If that’s what you wanted, really wanted, you could have given me that choice.” It was Sam’s turn to look away. “I knew I’d trapped you. That it wasn’t fair. Then you grabbed at the chance to be free.” Sam gave a snifff. “It was almost forty-eight hours. Best hours of my life Dean, and I could have sworn, yours too.” He wiped his sleeve across his nose and looked back at Dean. “What do you want? Now?”
“No, I couldn’t give you that choice. Because I didn’t honestly believe I’d make it through the war. I also knew you wouldn’t stay behind. I wouldn’t have, if it was me.” Dean gripped Sam’s biceps, startled at how he felt nothing but muscle under the fabric. “I didn’t grab at the chance to be free. I grabbed at the chance to keep you alive. It was the happiest I’d ever been. Have ever been. But my happiness for your life? That was a no-brainer.”
He stared into Sam’s eyes. “I know what I want, Sammy. What I’ve always wanted. I haven’t been with anyone since you. Not intimately. A few nights I’ve laid with someone in my arms, pretending it was you, but I never did more than kiss them and hold them. I swear. ...But if you tell me to leave, I will. I don’t blame you if you hate me.”
Sam had been sure that during his adventures, trekking around the verse, Dean had left a legion of broken hearts in his wake. He’d convinced himself that his heart and soul had just been the first in a long line. He’d needed to believe it. But if Dean truly waited just for him, then maybe the bond hadn’t completely broken. That was just as hard for Sam to believe, though, as when he’d first been told a bond could be broken. To stay away from the one you were bound to would be sheer agony...
Reaching up, he ran his hand along Dean’s face, his thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone, his mouth and jaw. “I don’t hate you. How could I? You were the other half of my soul,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “The better half.” His hand shook a little. “I swore I’d never do it again. Bond with anyone. But I still dream about you. You invade my day dreams. You’re my art. That must mean something, right? I want to try it again. I want to bond with you.” He cupped Dean’s jaw, tipping it up, “but it’s gonna be a place of my choosing. There’ll be no interruptions, no going back from it. So if you can think of any reason, any reason, your throne, possible revolts on the other side of the galaxy, whatever, that might hold you back from this, you tell me ‘no.’ Because this time, Dean, you’ve got a choice,” he said, exhibiting the strength and determination that had kept him alive.
“I spent the last handful of years fighting the good fight. Yeah, I was helping to free the galaxy, but more importantly, I was taking down the ones who were hunting me, who were keeping me from you.” Dean took a deep breath. “You need to go in eyes wide open this time. You need to understand, there are still people who want me dead. Not like back then, but there are people who could and probably will come after me. I could still end up with the throne. I don’t have the luxury of necessarily going where I want, not yet. If we go into this, we go in together. I’ve spent too many years away from you. Are you willing to go where I have to go? To sit with me on the throne if I have to do that? To uproot your life suddenly if some idiots try to go hunter on my ass? Are you willing to take a life if you have to in order to survive? Because if you can’t do all of that, or any of that, then it wouldn’t be fair to you. That is my life, and I don’t see it changing to be what I want it to be for a few years yet. I have duties I still have to shoulder.”
“That almost sounds like a marriage proposal.” Sam gave a small smile, then grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt, dragged him close and kissed him, “Yes… yes… yes…” This time he gave him a real kiss, “and… yes. So… celebrate with ice cream and bourbon?” He wrinkled his nose, but was willing to drink what Dean favored.
“Ice cream and bourbon?” Dean said and shook his head, then froze, his eyes widening a bit. “You...you will? Us? Me and you? You understand I’m gonna probably end up dragging you all over the known universe and maybe even into parts unknown.” Seeing Sam’s smile, he pulled Sam into a hug and swung him around. Setting him back on his feet he said, “No, we’re going to celebrate someplace better. And with champagne or wine, or even brandy. And gourmet desserts.”
“Gourmet desserts? Oh God… alright, but I’m not eating anything that’s alive,” Sam vowed, laughing. “I was afraid you wouldn’t still be able to do that. Carry me,” he said. Those trips down long hallways, with Dean half-carrying him and half-molesting him on the way to his bedroom were forever ingrained in his memory. “That’s what I think about, when I’m in the shower and you feel it… in case you’re wondering.” He buried his face in Dean’s neck, both to hide his slight embarrassment, and to breathe in his scent.
“I will always be able to carry you, even when I’m on death’s door,” Dean said softly into his ear. “I know the perfect hotel. Great food, great desserts, and a honeymoon suite with our name on it. How’s that sound?”
Kissing Dean’s neck, Sam released him. His eyes shone with a happiness that hadn’t been there in a long, long time. “I was just gonna read a book or draw…” Sam smirked, “but I like your idea better.”
“Guess Citizen 67 and Castiel are gonna have to get hitched too. After the suppressants wear off and after you and I ride your next heat. Well after,” Dean said, wrapping an arm around Sam’s waist and guiding him toward one of the nicest hotels in the city. He couldn’t wait until Sam could feel him too, until their bond was properly re-forged. “Have I told you I love you and missed you more than just about anything?” he asked, nuzzling Sam’s ear and soaking up Sam’s scent.
“No,” Sam said, smiling until it hurt, and leaning into Dean. “I can hardly believe you’re really here. I tried so hard not to miss you or think of you but then, I surrounded myself with you,” he huffed. “I guess Citizen 67 was pretty easy to see through. Dean… Dean, stop, you’re gonna give me a hickey. Dean.” Bubbling with laughter, he pushed Dean against the wall and brought his mouth down over Dean’s. He kissed Dean the way he’d so often imagined, tangling his tongue with Dean’s and cupping the back of his neck and head, kissing him until they were both breathless. “I don’t remember you teasing me like that,” he said, touching the side of his neck. It still tingled where Dean’s mouth had been.
“You were in heat and I was in lust. No tease needed. You like the tease don’t you?” Dean asked. “And incidentally, hickies are hellacool.”
“Yeah, I like it. But we’re outside…” Not that anyone was looking at them. The end of war celebrations hadn’t died down so kissing and groping and celebrating in public was a common sight. Warriors were still getting back to their home worlds. He dipped his head, and kissed Dean again. Something stirred inside him. He jerked back, stared at Dean, but said nothing.
“I like making out in public,” Dean started to say when Sam started kissing him again. Then suddenly stopped kissing him and gave him a funny look. “What? Do I taste funny or something?” Dean asked, unsure what that weird look was about. He wanted to grab the front of Sam’s shirt and yank him back in to finish the kiss properly.
“No, you taste fine. Good,” Sam blew out a breath. “I just… I….” he shook his head. “It’s nothing. Now get me to this hotel, it feels like I haven’t had sex in years…”
“You haven’t,” Dean said, cocking an eyebrow at him. Giving Sam a grin, he grabbed his hand and pulled Sam over to the curb. “Taxi’s faster,” he said and hailed a cab. “Besides, we can make out on the way there.”
“Argh, I don’t know if I want to do this more, or draw it….” Chuckling, he evaded Dean and ducked into the cab, then put his hand out to pull Dean in after him.
Glaring at Sam, Dean held out his hand and let Sam pull him into the backseat. “You’re art supplies are under house arrest until we’re married and fully soul-bound again. So don’t even think about it.” Slipping his hand around Sam’s back, he gave part of Sam’s ass a squeeze. “Mmmm, cute, tight asses turn me on.”
Sam practically melted. The words brought memories, of Dean trying to make the situation feel normal when it wasn’t. And flattering him, showing how he’d have flirted with him if they’d been somewhere like a bar. “You know, you could probably tell me things you said you thought were too dirty before.”
“Keep it clean, back there. Where to… oh, uh, carry on.” The taxi driver said, recognizing Dean.
“The Daylight Hotel,” Dean said then turned his attention back to Sam. “Okay, you probably won’t get the honeymoon suite, but the penthouse is definitely ours.” He stroked some of the hair back from Sam’s face. “If you want dirty talk, I’ll give you dirty talk. If you want romance, I can do that, too. Honestly, I wouldn’t say much different from then. I just won’t feel as awkward about it. Probably.” He chuckled, remembering Sam wanting to know if he’d fucked Dean since he’d been on top.
“I made you feel awkward?” Sam gave a huff, but got over it just as fast. “I don’t know what I want. I guess I want it all,” he said, staring into eyes he thought he’d never see up close again. “I want to make up for lost time. I want something to help me forget what it was like, losing you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Being left behind,” he said honestly.
“You were never left behind,” Dean said, staring into Sam’s hazel eyes. “You were at my side every day, in my bed every night. In every dream I ever had, we were together. Every action I took, I hoped it put me one step closer to you. I’m sorry I didn’t--couldn’t--tell you that. Knowing you were safe, that they didn’t know about you, it let me do things I couldn’t have otherwise. It gave me the courage to take risks I might not have. I didn’t want to be a hero, but knowing if the Freedom Fighters won and the Royals were knocked off their throne might mean I could be at your side again, for you, I’d be that hero. Even if you hated me and never wanted to see me again.” Dean meant every word and drank in Sam’s presence like he was dying of thirst. He leaned in close, inhaling Sam’s scent, then kissed him like he was the only thing that mattered. And he was.
He had tried… tried so hard to hate Dean, to convince himself Dean had told the truth about being just a thief, that he’d taken advantage of him. But he’d touched Dean’s soul, and everything he’d said about his thieving motives rang false. Besides, Sam really couldn’t see his father crumbling under any sort of pressure from an outsider, on his own ship. The two men had made the decision together, Sam had known that. And he’d also known that both of them loved him, though one of them had been forced into it. So he’d forgiven Dean for leaving him, breaking their bond. And now it turned out Dean hadn’t. Sam didn’t know how, but Dean had hung onto a piece of him.
Clinging to Dean, body and soul, Sam kissed him with all the pain and sorrow of the past, and all his hopes for a future. He’d thought he’d thrown those ideas aside. He’d vowed he would never be soul-bound again, that he’d never be that vulnerable to anyone. Stone by stone, he’d built up his defenses, but it was all for nothing. Every whisper, every touch, every kiss from Dean destroyed Sam’s defenses, making him want a future with this man who’d been a part of his soul, and claimed he wanted to be again.
There was a cough. “We’re here. The ride is on me,” the taxi driver said, turning around and beaming at the pair. “All war veterans ride free this month.”
Dean was recognized as they registered for a room. The receptionist said, “So the elusive Crown Prince has someone in his life after all.”
Sam put his arm around Dean’s waist and answered before Dean could. “Yes, he does. He’s my fiance.” He lifted his chin and locked gazes with Dean. It was a warning of sorts. He wouldn’t be denied or hidden in the shadows.
Dean felt his face flush. “And if word of my nuptials get, out I’ll know who to blame, bigmouth,” he said, giving Sam a mild glare. “Cause I really want a quiet ceremony, not some big 10,000 people in attendance sort of thing.” He glanced at the receptionist. “No one bothers us except for Prince Adam or John Winchester, and that’s only after you call us to confirm it’s a good time. Is the penthouse available? And I don’t want you moving someone for us.” Dean put his own arm around Sam’s waist and tugged him a little closer. He leaned in and whispered into his ear, “You’re cute when you’re all possessive.”
Sam stilled when he heard his father’s name, but then Dean was whispering in his ear and he found he was able to breathe again.
“Sometimes you gotta fight for what’s yours and make sure everyone sees your claim,” Sam answered in all seriousness.
“All set, just look into the eye scanner so the elevator will let you out at Penthouse D.”
Dean looked into the scanner, followed by Sam, then they headed toward the elevator. He tossed back over his shoulder, “Make sure you have some of that really berry custard ice cream ready to send up in a few hours. My fiance has an unbelievable thing for ice cream.” Winking at Sam, he guided Sam on the the elevator. “You’ll love it. Fresh made. Best anywhere.”
After punching the button for the penthouse and looking into the scanner, Dean turned to Sam so he faced him. “It’s gonna take me some time to get used to this whole looking up at you thing,” he said, slapping a hand on either of Sam’s asscheeks and pulling him close. “So kiss me already.”
Sam was grinning about everything. Dean's request for ice cream, the comment about his height, about actually being with Dean when he was pulled close. "You still know how to get me all tied up in knots with just a few words." It was true, Dean’s low, smooth-as-whiskey voice had an affect on him. Course the way he was holding him did, too.
Putting his arms around Dean's shoulders, he brushed his lips across Dean's a few times, before fitting his mouth against Dean's. This time, he took the lead, pushing his tongue inside and slowly exploring every corner of Dean's mouth. As their kiss grew more heated, he plastered himself against Dean almost as wantonly as he had when he'd been in heat.
Dean had dreamed of something like this scenario so many nights. He almost wanted to pinch himself to see if it was all just another dream or was really happening. Heat flowed through him as blood pooled in his groin and he found himself responding to Sam’s kisses, to the warmth of his body, in ways he almost forgot he could. When they broke for a moment of air Dean asked breathlessly, “This is you on suppressors? I better be on stimulants before the suppressors wear off.”
His smiled against Sam’s lips, giving a final kiss as he felt the elevator ease to a stop. He lead Sam out into the luxurious suite once the doors opened. “Our honeymoon suite, handsome. What do you think?”
Sam thought he could kiss Dean into forever and still not get enough. His lips burned for more even as he followed Dean. He sucked his breath in, turning to see the cityscape through the floor to ceiling windows. "It's beautiful," he said, taking a few more steps and seeing the bedroom right past the double doors.
He turned around and gave Dean a brilliant smile, "Better than anything I could have hoped for. Dreamed of. But you know, even if it was just a shack, or a seedy back room, or some alley... I'd think it was perfect so long as I was with you."
Then he ran to the bedroom, his eyes lingering on the large bed, before he checked out the bathroom and gave a 'woot.' "Dean, there's a hot tub, a freakin' pool-sized hot tub."
Dean couldn’t help but grin at his intended’s excitement.
Heading back, he wrapped his arms around Dean, holding onto him as they looked out the windows. "Reminds me of when we used to look out the observation deck on the ship. Course that never lasted long. As soon as you started talking about constellations in that sexy voice of yours..."
“I could read the packaging of laundry soap and it would turn you on,” Dean said with a chuckle as he stared out the window. Fireworks were visible in the distance and the streets below roiled with celebrants of their new freedom. They’d have to wake up soon enough to the reality of what freedom really meant. A lot of hard work and a lot of decisions that had always been made for them would now be decisions they’d have to make.
Turning, he stared at Sam’s profile. “I can’t believe we’re really here, that we really made it. And the funny thing is, we still hardly know a thing about each other. How weird is that. I love you more than anything, yet I don’t even know your favorite color, you favorite music, if you like to dance or roller skate or surf. What your favorite movies are. Course, we always had arranged marriages, so it would have been the same if I hadn’t ended up on the most wanted list.”
Sam turned his head. "I still can't believe that you're here, with me. That you love me." He ran his hand up Dean's arm, then his shoulder. “There's a lot we have to learn about each other. On Maldevia, those who are mated before getting a chance to know each other play twenty questions, and other question games."
Lifting his hand, he traced the contours of Dean's face. "But you know, we won't be soul-bound until my next heat cycle. So... we have time to get to know each other, before we're bound in marriage."
He dipped his head down, burying his face in Dean's neck and breathing his scent in. "Dean, know what I really want to know?" He lifted his head. "What you look like under all your clothes."
“Scarred,” Dean said a little ruefully, but grinned at Sam. “Not the innocent teen anymore are you? Before you get to start undressing me, I want to know something.” He took a slow, deep breath. “Have you been with many others? In any fashion?” He knew what he thought. That he’d never sensed Sam with others, but that didn’t mean it was true, even if part of him wanted it to be true. There were a lot of times, regardless of what he told Sam, that Sam had remained that distance tiny speck of sand who we was connected to with the barest of threads.
“Why?” Sam took a step back and raised his chin. “Why is that important?”
Dean smiled gently at him and tugged him back into his arms, stroking back some errant locks of Sam’s bangs . “Because I’m going to feel guilty as hell if you’ve never explored being with others, I’m gonna be a bit possessive and hope you haven’t, and I want to know if you’re still inexperienced so I don’t expect things of you that maybe you aren’t ready for or haven’t actually done yet. Does that make any sense to you?”
Sam weighed Dean’s words, and didn’t sense criticism would follow if he said he’d said he’d been around. “I wanted to. I would probably have done the entire freaking army at first, just to…” He looked down. “I didn’t want to remember anymore. If there were a hundred others, then what we had, it wouldn’t be special. It would fade…” His throat closed up on him, so he tried clearing it.
Dean felt a stab of pain in his chest but gave Sam a light kiss. In the beginning he hadn’t been able to focus on Sam like he could as the years passed. At least he knew. So what if he’d been wrong about what he sensed, that Sam hadn’t been with anyone? He’d just have to deal with the reality that he had, and make sure Sam forgot ever being with anyone else. “It’s okay. I didn’t expect you to wait on me. I tried to get you to hate me and forget me so you could move on. I’m the one who couldn’t let go.”
“What’s okay?” Sam let out a breath. “Oh… I didn’t. I meant I wanted to, but couldn’t. There was no way I was getting soul-bound again, and there was a chance someone would sense what I am. My father’s warnings… I wasn’t gonna run away from him, only to get trapped by someone. So…” He gave a shrug. “I messed around… kissing and stuff, with some other Maldevians in the same position as me.”
He pulled away again. “Look, it’s not a problem. It’s just like riding a bike, I mean you never forget. You don’t have to start over from lesson one,” he pointed out, now feeling insecure instead of pissed off. “Or… yeah, you know, a lot of Maldevians will gain experience outside, before they’re going to be soul-bound. If there’s a safe place… safe people, on suppressants, you could watch out for me, maybe guard the place while I gain experience with them. Afterwards, you and I could get soul-b--what?” he asked, unable to read Dean’s expression.
Dean didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “Sam,” he said shaking his head. “Shhh. I love you just the way you are, and hell no, I’m not sharing you if I don’t have to. I don’t care if you got memory wiped and don’t remember a thing, or you watched a hundred thousand movies or ‘how to’ vids or whatever. And if you went out and got laid a million times… I’d deal. All I was really trying to ask is...do you want me to go slow, or do you want to talk about things you want to try, or you know, any of that stuff. If you’re still inexperienced I’ll know to give you suggestions. If you’re not, I’ll know you’re being a tease. And I am ready to get officially soul-bound to you as soon as Maldevian possible. I have zero reservations about spending the rest of my life with you. Okay?”
“Okay. Yeah, I’ve watched movies. A lot of them.” He felt his color rise. “I think you’re over-thinking this. I can calculate jump points without techno-aid. You can maneuver around the enemy and blast them out of the sky. We’ll get through this,” he said, his face all serious. “You just… you need to take your clothes off. Now.”
With that, Sam started to undo the fastenings of Dean’s shirt. This time, he wouldn’t be embarrassed to take in every detail. Last time, he’d only glanced at Dean, not knowing they wouldn’t have the rest of their lives together.
Dean began laughing. “Obviously I’m not over thinking or you wouldn’t be blushing and you’re damned adorable when you blush.” He let Sam work on his clothes, while he was busy brushing his hands over Sam’s body. Giving him light gropes and squeezes, he was seeing if he could fluster the young man or if it just made his fiance’s fires burn brighter. Or both. He’d be happy with any of the options. He also tried to distract Sam by blowing in his ear, or nipping lightly at his neck. He was using great restraint not to just tear off Sam’s clothes, as anxious as Sam to see his lover’s body.
It was hard for Sam to concentrate when Dean was touching him all over. Just when he’d get used to having his hand on his ass, Dean would move it and touch him elsewhere. His breaths were a little erratic as he struggled with the fastenings, then bumped into Dean when he felt the hot breath in his ear.
“Dean…” it was a low warning, one that Dean seemed to dismiss by the way his hands kept roving over Sam, fanning the flames of his desire. Giving up, he shoved his hand under Dean’s shirt and pushed him back, up against the window, bringing his mouth down over Dean’s in a hungry kiss. Every muscle in his body tensed as heat coursed through his system. The sort of heat he remembered from so long ago.
Dean chuckled into the kiss, but his chuckle mutated into a groan when heat began to race through him. He found himself beginning to tug at Sam’s clothes, wanting to touch warm skin under his hands, wanting to taste and kiss and sample every part of Sam. “Mmngh, I’ve dreamed of this,” he said breathlessly as he returned hungry kiss after hungry kiss. “I need you Sam, needed you for so long.” He pulled away from the kiss long enough to pull Sam’s shirt off and helped Sam with his own. Then they were pressed skin-to-skin again, hard muscles rippling.
Sam’s plans to check out every inch of his lover fell by the wayside. He was in Dean’s arms, they were touching, kissing, pressing together, and it was all that mattered. “We fit together better now,” he mused out loud, running his hands along Dean’s back and sides, and trying to get as close to him as possible. Cupping the back of Dean’s head, he dragged him close for another kiss, boldly tangling his tongue with Dean’s, controlling the kiss in a way he never had before. Flames licked at his skin, all over, a sensation he ought to recognize but could not think about in the heat of the moment.
Dean let Sam have all the control he wanted. So long as the flames of desire licked at him, electrifying him, he was practically helpless. The only thing he could think of was being one with Sam again, one, like they’d been all those years ago. As Sam kissed him breathless, he worked on unfastening Sam’s belt and then his pants. In one little part of his mind that could still think, he realized height wasn’t the only thing Sam had grown in.
The sensation of Dean’s hands at his abs, opening up his pants, drew a low groan from Sam. Such heat. He hadn’t felt such heat in so damned long, and only now realized that his dreams had all been a pale imitation. Breaking the kiss, he stared at Dean for a long moment, and before Dean could push his pants down, Sam walked around him. His eyes burned as he admired every inch of Dean. His shoulders were even broader than they’d been, and his muscles rippled across them.
Dropping a kiss on Dean’s shoulder, he closed his arms around his waist. “I forgot how you smelled,” he whispered against Dean’s neck as he pressed himself against his back and started to unfasten his pants. “I watched all the news feeds, to make sure I remembered how you look, but the other stuff…”
“I hope you like what you see,” Dean said, his voice husky with desire. “Sorry the canvas is a bit more scarred up than it was before. And I’ve never forgotten how you smelled. It’s almost… surreal that we’re together again.” He leaned back, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder. “And it’s just so wrong you got so tall, dammit.”
Sam laughed, then leaned in and kissed Dean on the mouth. “Makes it easier to do this,” he pointed out. Instead of opening Dean’s pants, he ran his palm over Dean’s groin, sucking his breath in when he found the hard line of his shaft. “I never, not in a million years, thought you’d find me. Want me.” His throat tightened a little. “Always thought it was a bit ironic, seeing glimpses of you with my father.” His heart had ached, because it could have been so perfect.
“Your father and I became friends after you ran away. He thought you were dead until I called him, hoping to see you, bitch you out about your ice cream fetish and Citizen 67.” He gave a soft groan as Sam’s hand slipped over his cock. He closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the sensations. “He’s been heart-broken over losing you. So he and I had something in common.”
He twisted his head so he could look into Sam’s eyes. “I always wanted you Sam… and I really did think you were hot, long before the heat affected me. If there hadn’t ever been the heat... I would have asked you out when you were an adult by my culture’s standards. Maybe sooner. I’d at least have made sure I was there when you and your dad brought smuggled goods to us, so I could see you again. I won’t tell you how often I’ve read all your comics. It helped me feel connected to you.”
Even though he knew it was true, that there was no other way Dean could have found him, Sam couldn’t quell the fear that he’d be left behind again. So he was gonna enjoy the moment, knowing Dean was coming into this of his own will, and then, if he was lucky, they’d move on to getting soul-bonded again.
“I guess that’s why I drew them and wrote the stories. To stay connected,” he cupped Dean. “You should see the x-rated versions,” he laughed, then ground his cock against Dean’s ass as he squeezed him again. “Dean…” he moaned softly.
“Mmfph…God, you’re a tease,” Dean responded, feeling Sam press against his ass as he felt the heat of Sam’s cupping hand on his cock. “And believe me, I imagined the x-rated version.” He wanted to tell Sam to finish undoing his pants, but he also wanted to give Sam whatever Sam wanted. He ground his ass back against Sam then pressed his groin into Sam’s hand, slowly rocking his hips back and forth between the sensations.
“Ungh… that’s good,” Sam groaned, heat gathering inside him. He undid Dean’s pants, and slowly pushed his hand inside, biting his lower lip as his hand closed around Dean’s hard cock. Instinct took over and he pulled Dean out and started to pump his hand up and down Dean’s length, pressing his lips against Dean’s shoulder as they rocked against each other. Something shifted inside Sam, fell into place. “Fuck…” the oath escaped him.
“Damn right it’s good,” Dean panted, thrusting into Sam’s lightly calloused hand. “Mmm, yeah, perfect,” he said, letting everything carry him away into pleasure and the simple joy of being with Sam again. “I think fucking is definitely next on our agenda.” Dean agreed, reaching behind him and working Sam’s pants open.
Sam’s heart slammed against his chest. “Bed? Or here?” he asked, his mind going numb at the thought. His skin started to burn, his temperature rising suddenly. “No…” he let out a puff of air and released Dean. His entire body was flushed, a light sheen of sweat covering him.
He shook his head. “You’re… you’re sending me into heat. No. No, no,” he ground out, his jaw clenching as he tried to will his body to obey him. “Not like this, not again.”
“That isn’t… you don’t want to?” Dean asked, turning to face Sam. He could smell the change in Sam’s scent. “Why is that a bad thing?” Dean said, keeping his hands off Sam only with the greatest of effort. “I want you, you want me… don’t you?”
“Oh God, yes. Yes I want you, but. Goddammit, I didn’t want to trap you this time. So if you showed up later, for the bonding, it would really be you…” The intensity of lust gripping him almost had Sam dropping down onto his knees. “Fuck.” Grabbing Dean’s hips, he pulled him close and just ground his own against Dean’s. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… Dean…”
Dean felt the air rush out of him. “Sam, you idiot, of course I want you. You’re not trapping me. I feel like I’m only half here without you. If we can bond now, tonight, I want it.” He placed his hands on either side of Sam’s face. “Did you forget? You’re my fiance. Or do you want me to ask you and romance you? Your father has already given his blessing. If you really want to wait… then say so now before I can’t walk away. Tell me when and where to be for the bonding and I’ll prove it to you, that it’s my choice. I want you to be my husband.”
“You think you can walk away, Dean” Sam ran his hand over his face. “That’ the point. You can’t… or if you can, the next man or woman that walks through that door…” He ached so bad, needed Dean so bad, wanted him so damned bad.
“Wanna bet?” Dean grit out. “And I’m not letting anyone else near you. Take your suppressors if you have to. But I’m damned well marrying you. As soon as you’ll have me. So make up your mind. Suppressors? Or the heat, and you and me making love all night long,” Dean demanded. He could feel himself beginning to react to the change of Sam’s smell. Sam better decide fast so Dean could do as he promised.
Sam knew what he wanted, but he was battling his fears. The ifs, and the whats, and his lack of control over the situation. “Four days. You have to… you have to promise me, Dean, you won’t leave for four days. It’s how long it takes. You can’t stop, I don’t care if my father walks in, you can’t…” Who was he kidding, it was too late anyway. He couldn’t… wouldn’t let Dean walk out the door. His soul was already calling to Dean.
He hadn’t planned on being completely off the radar for four days, but he could contact Adam and let him know. “I promise. If I have to leave for some State emergency or something, you’re coming with me. Or I’ll have a command center set up next door, and you’re still coming with me, even if it’s just across the hall. If you’re in heat, I’m not letting you out of my sight until we’re soul-bound because I don’t share my fiance with anyone. Now stop worrying. I want this. I want you. And the only way that it’s not happening is if you tell me to get the hell out. Right now. So am I staying or going?” He didn’t know what he’d do if Sam told him to go. ...Yeah, he did. He’d beg Sam to let him stay, to marry him, to make love to him, to join with him forever.
“Stay.” The order erupted from Sam’s throat. He closed his arms around Dean so tight, it would take a struggle to make him let go. He wasn’t a boy anymore, and no one could make him do what he didn’t want. No one could tie him down, or stop him.
“Stay with me,” he said thickly, using his body to push Dean, to force him to walk backwards toward the bedroom. “For always. Love me Dean, the way I love you. No compromises. No in betweens. No staying in my soul part way. All or nothing. That’s all I have to give, Dean. All of me,” he said, as they reached the bed.
Dean wrapped his arms around Sam. “Don’t you get it yet, you idget? That’s part of why I left. Because I couldn’t give you everything then. Now? Now I can. I already love you, and I don’t have to make any more compromises when it comes to you. You’re all I want, all I’ve ever wanted ever since I laid eyes on you. I will never leave you again. I swear I won’t.” He tilted his head and crushed his lips to Sam’s as he began to finish what he’d started. Both in the other room as he’d started to rid Sam of his pants, and those years ago when the binding of their souls had begun.
“I won’t let you. I swear it,” Sam answered, the determined look in his eyes backing up his words.
By the time they’d stripped their clothes off, Sam’s cock was pulsing, aching with need. His heart clenched as he looked at Dean, years of desire, of want, bubbling to the surface. He reached out and ran his finger over Dean’s nipple, and slowly moved it lower. And audible puff of air left him. His eyes snapped back to Dean’s. “I feel you. I feel you, Dean,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears.
Dean’s own eyes burned with fire. Knowing that Sam felt him now, the way he’d felt Sam all these years. “Imagine that feeling, for all the years we’ve been apart, and know that I suffered, too. I stayed away because I had to, not because I wanted to. But never again. We’ll never be apart again,” Dean said, feeling both of his nipples harden at Sam’s touch of just one of them. He caressed Sam’s back, then brought his hand around to mirror Sam’s touch, lightly rubbing Sam’s nipple. “I need you. I need you to take me. Now,” Dean begged, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dean’s whisper sent shivers of heat clear down to Sam’s core. “You want me to top.” He smiled, tilted his head to one side, and shoved Dean onto his back. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”
As he climbed onto the bed, he never lost his smile, though it became slightly more predatory. They’d never tried this before, and he’d always wondered what it might be like.
Crawling over Dean, he kissed him, then lifted his head and spoke. “From this day forward, Dean Campbell the Third, your heart belongs to me. Your soul, belongs to me. You… belong to me,” he declared.
“It always has,” Dean said. “And you know, I think I miss Innocent Sammy, just a little bit,” he said with a laugh then suddenly sobered as he lay there looking up at Sam. “Is that part of some ritual? Am I supposed to claim you the same way?”
“No. I made it up, just telling it like it is.” Sam brought his mouth down over Dean’s, kissing him hungrily, with all the passion in his heart and soul, guiding his soul back to twine with Dean’s.
That made Dean laugh, at least until Sam started kissing him. He locked his legs around the back of Sam’s knees, pulling him closer. When he felt their souls begin to entangle once again, he welcomed it like a blind man seeing the light for the first time. At the same time it hurt just a little, because he felt the change in Sam’s soul, the sadness, the bitterness, the loneliness. Gone was the sweet innocence when they had first started being soul-bound those years ago. And Dean knew it was his fault. He was the one who’d walked away. And that hurt even more.
Though Sam had been intent on binding their souls together, now that he seemed to have more control over the process, when Dean dragged him close, his body’s needs became ten times more urgent. Rocking furiously against Dean, he cupped the back of his head and lifted it slightly, deepening the kiss. Tasting his lover, learning, remembering how he felt, how his soul felt when wrapped around Dean’s.
He wanted, needed to be inside Dean so badly. Needed to make them one, body and soul. Breaking the kiss, he crawled back on the bed, to the edge. “You don’t carry lube…” he tossed out. There would be no reason for him to, but Sam knew he had to prepare Dean. A Maldevian in heat needed no preparation, but Dean was human.
“Check the bathroom. There’s probably some lotion there.” Dean didn’t want to let Sam move away from him but made himself let Sam go, focusing on how it felt to sense Sam’s feelings. He’d forgotten what a pale shadow, what a tiny thread he’d clung to. He forgot how intense, sharp and clear everything could be between them. “If there isn’t any, then spit and cum and stretching will do, or we can call the desk and tell them to get it to us right now.” He knew how anxious Sam was and the same feelings of urgency ricocheted inside Dean.
Sam’s mind was spinning. “It’ll take them forever and I…” He scrambled off the bed and headed for the bathroom. “Oh God…” he groaned, seeing like seven bottles lined up and having to read them, to find the ones that might do, and to sniff them. He wanted the one with the least scent in it.
In the mirror, he saw how flushed he was, and how high his cock stood. Grabbing the bottle, he headed back, his eyes focusing on Dean. “You look so Goddamned beautiful, spread out for me like that.” He’d sensed that Dean missed his innocence, and was sorry he’d spoken his mind like that. “I mean you look beautiful,” he said, sitting on the bed and opening the bottle.
“I like it when you talk dirty,” Dean said, his gaze focused on Sam’s cock. This was the first he’d really gotten to see it. “Damn, you’re hung.” His gaze slid up Sam’s body and met his gaze. “I guess you won’t be stopping to inspect and analyze my cock this time, huh?” He broke into a grin. “You about killed me with that, you know.” Planting his feet on the bed as he bent his knees, he licked his lips, seeing how the shift in position made Sam’s flush that much stronger and liking the reaction.
“I could stop and inspect. Next round,” Sam promised. He did want to look, to take his time with Dean. To love him slowly and completely. “You’re killing me now…”
Pushing Dean’s thighs wider apart, he felt a little awkward, never having done this before. But he remembered Dean touching him, opening him up, even after he’d said it wasn’t necessary. He drizzled some of the lotion at the spot under Dean’s balls, watching the stream of shiny liquid run down to coat Dean’s hole. Then he ran his finger around Dean’s hole, sucking his breath in when he felt not only Dean twitch under his finger, but got the feedback for the sensations he felt.
If he hurt Dean, he’d know. That knowledge had him more confident as he slowly penetrated Dean, coating his finger with more lotion. “You still haven’t fucked my mouth,” he pointed out matter-of-factly, though his entire body clenched. There were a lot of things they hadn’t done, and he knew about them this time around.
“Oh God, Sam!” Dean exclaimed, just the thought of fucking Sam’s mouth sending an electric thrill all the way down to the tips of his toes. “Focus on, yeah, there.” He felt Sam’s finger testing and teasing his hole. “And I only have the one hot spot inside, not like you with your eight pleasure spots. I envy you--” Dean inhaled sharply, his eyes practically crossing when Sam did something especially perfect. “I’ll shut up now,” Dean finally managed.
“My pleasure spots are your pleasure spots,” Sam whispered, his head rocking back when he felt Dean tense and react. His imagination already had him inside Dean. He could practically feel Dean clenching around him.
Wanting this to be perfect, the way Dean had made Sam’s first time perfect, Sam tuned himself in to Dean’s feelings. Then he moved his finger in and out, adding a finger, and curling his fingers so his fingertips would brush over Dean’s prostate. They both gave a sharp inhale. Sam smiled at that, and leaned over to kiss Dean. He could do two things at once, and one of them--he wasn’t sure which one, needed kissing.
Sliding his hand behind Sam’s head, Dean held Sam there so he could get an extra long intense kiss. He smiled once he broke off the kiss. “I forgot how spectacular, how perfect this was. Always knowing what the other one feels, never wondering if you ‘got it right.’ And Sammy, I don’t break. I want you in me so get to stretching.” He wriggled his hips back and forth and rocked them a little. He was way past ready for Sam to be in him, but he knew patience was good for something like this. Especially for as big as his Sam had grown.
“You’ve gotten freakin’ impatient in your old age. I used to be the one who rushed you.” Kissing him one more time, Sam rocked back onto his heels and adding some lotion, single-mindedly worked on preparing Dean to take him.
He took his time, pleasuring Dean from the inside, and stroking his cock with his free hand. Then he remembered how he’d loved watching the way Dean’s muscles rippled, and how he arched when he ran his fingers down his stomach and abs. He wondered if Dean still did that.
Seeing that Sam would have his own way, Dean just laid back and let Sam work him. “And you’ve gotten even more stubborn in your old age. I didn’t think that was possible,” he teased, arching a bit when Sam hit another perfect spot inside of him and giving a groan. That felt so damned good and he knew Sam had felt it too from the way Sam reacted. He could feel their souls slowly mingling, old wounds of where they’d been torn apart finally mending and healing. It was almost as sensual as the way Sam was working him. Dean finally began giving little thrusts of his hip, pushing Sam’s fingers in deeper. “Oh yeah, baby, mmmm.”
Entranced by Dean’s reactions, and very aware of his own building need, Sam pushed a third finger inside Dean, moving in a way that had Dean thrusting again and again. “Fuck…” Watching Dean, all Sam wanted, needed, was to be inside him. He started to glance at Dean’s face, and at his own fingers moving in and out of Dean, and back at Dean’s face. His chest was rising and falling faster. “I want you,” he finally whispered his desire. “I need you.”
“Then take me,” Dean demanded, his eyes heavy-lidded, but glazed with lust and love. He felt Sam’s needs spiral higher and higher and his own followed suit. He remembered their sweet joining in the past and desperately wanted that again. His soul reached for Sam’s, urging Sam on.
Dean’s demand, coupled with his soul tugging at him, almost pushed Sam to the edge. He closed his eyes, concentrating instead on getting his aching dick slick with the lotion. Once he’d centered himself, he opened his eyes.
As he aligned their bodies, all he could see was Dean. All he could hear was Dean’s rapid breaths, and soft sounds. “I love you,” he whispered, pouring the truth of his feelings out to Dean through their connection as he slowly pushed inside his slick, tight heat. He went slowly, feeling Dean’s pain, and his pleasure, not pushing him to take more than he could. Lust was riding him like a bitch, but somehow, knowing how Dean felt, caring about that above all else, enabled him to wait.
Dean winced and gave a soft groan as Sam began penetrating him but his heart warmed at hearing those words, of sensing those feelings.
He hadn’t been with anyone in years and he might as well have been a virgin for as tight as he was. Even as Sam’s cock stretched him, feeling Sam enter him, knowing it was Sam who would be resting inside him, it was electrical, almost magical. He felt Sam stop and started to protest, but Sam was right to stop, his body needed to adjust. Dean concentrated on relaxing then clenched around Sam’s cock lightly, encouraging him to push further in as his eyes focused on his lover. “I love you, too,” he whispered back, and showed Sam how deep those words went and how true they were.
By the time his hips were slotted against Dean’s ass, and he was buried inside him, Sam had gotten glimpses of Dean’s loneliness over the years. His yearnings for Sam. His worries and hopes. But mostly, his utter devotion. He was about to get lost in their feelings when Dean clenched tightly around him, and Sam reared his head up at the sharp jolt of need that threatened his control.
“Dean,” he whispered in warning, his nostrils flaring. “I haven’t done this in years, one push…”
Dean grinned at him. “Then stop looking like you’re constipated.” He rocked his hips a little, sliding Sam fractionally in and out. “Sex is fun. Don’t you know that my innocent soon-to-be husband?” Tugging on Sam’s arm, he forced Sam to practically collapse on top of him and he began kissing Sam with all those years of pent up need. He wrapped his legs around Sam and began a slow rocking, making sounds of pleasure anytime the slightest of movement from Sam gave pressure to his prostate, and his own hard cock trapped between them.
“Yeah… fun… don’t wanna hurt you,” Sam huffed, but he quickly found out there was no more pain. And God, the way Dean closed his legs around him and showed him what he wanted was so damned hot, just what Sam needed, just what he’d craved. He started to rock his own hips, kissing Dean back, running his tongue along Dean’s lips and curling his tongue around Dean’s outside their mouths.
His teasing, playful motions slowly changed. There was an urgent pounding in his head, and in his heart. Need building. Desire for his mate seeping from his pores, making him hot, and wild, and so damned needy. Lifting himself up, Sam started to angle his hips in different directions, stroking hard and fast, his muscles straining and bulging. His soul drawing Dean inside, binding itself to Dean’s.
Dean’s eyes widened as Sam became more aggressive, as he moved in ways that had Dean practically writhing as he tried to respond to every thrust of Sam’ hips. He remembered there had been a brief time when they were two parts of the same machine, one soul, two bodies. It wasn’t there. Why wasn’t it there?
And then Dean felt it. The siren song. Their souls might have been becoming entwined, but this was new. This was Sam’s soul engulfing his, drinking and devouring it, unifying them in wonderful and maybe slightly terrifying ways. But Dean didn’t care. He would never be away from Sam again. He would never betray him, leave him, abandon him. His own soul began devouring Sam’s as he felt his balls tightening. “Close Sam, I’m close,” he gasped out, wanting them to come together.
Sam closed his eyes and kept thrusting, wanting, needing this moment to last. Sensing Dean was on the very edge, somehow he managed to keep him there. And then, when their souls were fully merged, he opened his eyes. “Now,” he commanded, bring his mouth down hard over Dean’s and moving in and out of him as fast and hard as they both craved It was the last push they needed. Tearing his mouth away, Sam shouted, “Dean!” His body stiffening, his balls tightening painfully as he was engulfed by the white hot heat of his orgasm.
It was a tidal wave of feelings than inundated Dean. His own. Sam’s. Sam’s orgasm. The feeling of his own balls twisting up tightly against him and finally able to release. An explosion of lights, a rhapsody of electrical currents played over every part of his body. For a moment they were the only ones in the universe. For a moment, the universe consisted only of them.
“Sammy!” Dean shouted as he clutched at Sam and came his brains out.
Sam held Dean tight, riding the waves of their pleasure, and kissing him. The hot wet cum on his stomach and dribbling against his thighs told him this was real. This was no dream, this was the real thing.
When he finally collapsed over Dean, he managed to say between heavy breaths. “It’s Sam. I’m nineteen now.”
“It’s a term of endearment,” Dean said, panting just as hard. “You’re my Sammy. Always will be. I’m not romance central, so try to ‘ppreciate it.” He grinned at Sam, then let his head fall back onto the pillow. “Best. Sex. Ever.”
“Only sex ever,” Sam laughed. “After all this time, if I’d have only blown on your dick, you’d have said the same thing.” He kissed Dean’s chest and was a little reluctant to pull out just yet.
“I would not. I remember our two nights vividly and while they were awesome, this was awesomer. Guess we’ll just have to keep trying to top it.” He smacked Sam’s bare ass. “Just lay here with me and don’t move. I’m comfortable if you’re comfortable.” He sighed contentedly, gently running the fingers of one hand in small circles on Sam’s back. “I never thought I’d ever really hold you in my arms again.”
“Me neither. I thought one day I’d be watching the news and then there’d be an announcement …” he rubbed his cheek on Dean’s chest. “Figured they’d marry you off. I knew that would be the day that I’d stop writing about Citizen 67.”
“Never. I’d never marry anyone but you. Unless, you know, you told me to fuck off and never bother you again. And I’m not sure I’d marry anyone even then. No one could ever replace you. Or replace Citizen 67’s Castiel.” He ran his fingers through Sam’s damp hair. “No one.”
“How the hell did you know I was Castiel?” Sam lifted his head and kissed Dean. “Honestly, I never thought the comic would catch on or that you’d find out about it. Or make the connection. But I’m glad you did.”
He slowly pulled out of Dean, but promptly dropped down on top of him again, crossing his arms over Dean’s chest and resting his chin on his forearms, so he could maintain eye contact. “Dean?” He searched his soul for confirmation. “I think it’s done. We’re bonded. I think… we didn’t have to start from scratch. This was it.”
Sam’s heart ached. All those years ago, if they’d bedded each other one more time, would it have done it? Would they have been so soul-bound that nothing could break their tie?
“Mmm, well I think we ought to spend a good couple days here, you know, just to be absolutely certain,” Dean said, his fingers brushing along Sam’s side.
Sam’s lips quirked into a smile. It wasn’t like he needed any excuses to stay glued to Dean.
“And about Castiel, he was Citizen 67’s angel and protector. He guided him and kept him safe. So I knew it had to be you. Though I’m not sure about my angel being named after a pet monkey.” He poked Sam lightly in the ribs. “And I hope someday you’ll stop regretting the past. I feel it, your constant thoughts about what could have been. ...Can you see my memories?”
Sam squirmed at the poke, but stayed put where he was comfortable. “Don’t you? Regret the past?” he asked softly.
Dean gave a small nod. “Yes, but not the same way you regret it. You regret we weren’t together. I regret we couldn’t be together. If you can see my memories, you can see how many people close to me died. As terrible as it sounds, every time someone died one of my first thoughts was I was so glad you were safe and I told myself that I’d made the right decision in leaving. Course I was still a selfish prick and couldn’t let you go completely.”
“You’re really stubborn, you know that?” Sam, himself wore a mulish expression. “I understand you think you did the right thing. That dad thought he did the right thing,” he nodded. “I just.. I can’t agree, okay?” It was simple for him.
He cupped the side of Dean’s face. “I feel what you feel, I get how you feel. I’m not angry anymore. I was never that angry.” Hurt. Devastated. Robbed of hope. Yeah, he’d been in all those spaces. “And I’m glad you didn’t let me go completely, ‘cause there’s only one other time that I’ve ever been this happy. And that was when we first bonded. You’re the right one, right partner for me.”
“I’m stubborn?” Dean chuckled. He wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist loosely. “Okay, how about we agree to disagree about the choices that were made? I’ll be glad you were stupid enough to take me back if you’ll stop regretting I was stupid enough to ever leave you in the first place. Past can’t be changed, Sammy, and regret won’t do anything but hurt us in the long run. I’d rather focus on our future. So you have to help me come up with a way to get out of being made king because I wanna explore the known galaxy with you.”
“Yeah, I think we can just focus on the future. You, and me. So many ships to steal…” he grinned, and snuggled closer. “So many hours to spend in bed. You’re amazing, I don’t think I ever told you that,” he whispered. When he’d been younger, he hadn’t known how to compliment someone. He shifted his hips a little. “You set me on fire and I know, I know nothing is ever gonna put out the fire.”
Dean laughed. “I’m not teaching you how to steal ships. But I’m with you on all the hours ahead of us spent making love. And we need to expand your desire of places to have sex. Because I’m insatiable, at least when it comes to you.” Dean lifted his head and stole a kiss from Sam. “Fire. Electricity. Perfection. And a hundred other words describe my feelings for you and what you do to me. You’re my one and only. You’ve always been my one and only.” Dean thought briefly back to his lover that had died while he watched helplessly. No regrets, he told himself firmly and he didn’t regret being chosen by Sam. Not at all.
Sam felt the touch of sadness and let Dean have a moment, before he answered. “In the shower? I had planned for against the window but then the heat… I wasn’t sure I could stay standing,” he laughed. “Where else do you have in mind, Mr. Adventurous?”
“Oh, definitely in the shower. The kitchen table is good. And I love making out at the movies. I could definitely go for the big bang risk in a mostly empty theater. Or, mmm, museums.” A faraway dreamy look passed over Dean’s features. “On the roof, on the beach, somewhere out under the stars…”
“Are you sure you’re not in heat?” Sam laughed and kissed Dean, then holding onto him, rolled them over so Dean was on top. “So kiss me, and take me to the shower.” In a hotel of this caliber, the bed would automatically cleanse itself and the bedding would be fixed the moment they left the bed.
“Mmm, I think with you, I’m always gonna be in heat.” Doing as Sam ordered, he began kissing Sam, pulling out all the stops in trying to steal his breath away. When he finally let Sam up for air, he got to his feet and held out a hand to his lover. “C’mon, baby, time to get you wet and I can’t hardly wait.”
A little dazed by the mind numbing kisses, Sam grabbed Dean’s hand and pulling himself up, got off the bed. He almost stumbled at Dean’s comment. “How can you make the most innocent statement sound so… wicked sexy?” he asked, a flush crawling up his face. “Make me feel so damned… not innocent?” He plastered himself to Dean, locking their mouths together, as they headed slowly, stumbling and knocking against furniture, to the bathroom.
It was mid-morning, and Sam sat on a wingchair in the bedroom, his legs draped over the arms of the chair, leaning back and drawing on the hotel provided notepad. Every once in a while, he looked over at Dean, asleep on the bed, with his arms splayed out, and looking carefree and very satiated. At least Dean did in his very sexy drawing, featuring Dean on the bed, with sheets covering only his midsection, but providing hints of what lay under.
He’d slept well, but woke up every time Dean moved, or went to the bathroom. An internal warning bell seemed to sound each time, and he knew it would go away once they’d been together for a while. Right now, he just had to deal with the slight panic that coursed through him at the thought of history repeating itself. He knew his fear was illogical, he’d seen it in Dean’s soul. And yet, he’d touched Dean’s soul before too, and hadn’t seen what was coming.
“Darling,” he whispered under his breath, as he drew. “Sweetheart…” That sounded fake. “Baby… babe,” he gave a huff. That didn’t sound natural either.
Dean’s eyes cracked open at hearing Sam’s soft voice. It took a moment to remember this was real, that Sam was truly back in his life. Sometimes, he liked to get up just to walk into the other room so he could come back in to see Sam laying in their bed. He sensed Sam’s uneasiness, something that even rang of panic, that seemed to plague Sam every hour. He’d feel Sam’s soul practically clutching at his own. It would just take some time, he told himself. They both had to convince themselves they really were together again. For good.
He smirked when he heard Sam murmuring sweet nothings. “Maybe you should stick with something a little more teasing to get started with. Try ‘Jerk’.” Dean said, rolling onto his side and balancing on his elbow while resting his head on his palm. He grinned at Sam. “At least you better be practicing those romantic words for me or I’ll be all sorts of jealous.”
Sam gave a startled laugh. “Jerk,” he said, very distinctly as he dropped the pad and got off the chair. “You’re right, that came very naturally.”
Sitting on the bed, Sam bent over and kissed Dean lightly. “Did I tire you out, my soul?” A chuckle worked its way out of him.
“Bitch,” Dean teased back, licking his lips and liking the taste Sam left there and the way his lips tingled. “Hardly. But you did give me an appetite. I just can’t decide which one I want satisfied first. A big helping of you, or some food and dessert. What sounds best to you, my cute, tight-assed little lover?”
“Breakfast and kisses,” Sam answered. “Oh, and Dean… there’s nothing little about me.” Grinning, he collapsed on top of Dean, kissing him again. “I keep thinking this is a dream.”
“Me too,” Dean said, grinning back at him. “You’re on top. That means you hafta get up and order breakfast. Then we’ll explore to see if I can find anything on you that’s little. A very thorough exploration.”
“Let’s eat downstairs.” Grabbing Dean’s hand, Sam pulled him up. “I got your clothes cleaned so we’re good to go.” He was half-dressed, but he got up to pull his hoodie on over his jeans. “If we’re staying here again, I can get some more clothes. Or I have a small place with paper thin walls. You’ll need to be more quiet if we stay there,” he teased.
“Your wish, my command. Wherever you’re happiest.” Dean climbed out of bed and began dressing. “You like it here, we’ll stay. You want to be at your place, we’ll go. I’m going to have to check messages and I guarantee I’ll have some appointments or meetings I’m going to have to agree to go to, or reschedule. And I want us married as soon as possible so nobody gets any bright ideas of trying to marry me off as a peace gesture or something. And I don’t do quiet when it comes to you.” He wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist and gave him a kiss, then nudged him towards the door. “Love you, Dimples,” Dean said.
The stab of fear upon hearing Dean needed to go places quickly dissipated. He wasn’t going to be clingy. Giving Dean a smile, he walked ahead of him. “By Maldevian law, you’re already married,” he announced airily, tugging the door open. “After you, husband.”
“We are? How, er, when?” Dean felt a knot inside of him release as he walked through the doorway. They were already married so that meant nothing could mess up their being together forever.
Sam gave him a look “What do you think it means, to be soul-bound. The emphasis is on bound.” He took Dean’s hand, and walked happily down the hall.
“We need to get rings and get it registered officially on your world and mine then. I’m good with no ceremony but we may have to do a ceremony to satisfy the people. That’s one of the pains of being a public figure. And we need to get you some ‘fancy’ clothes for any appearances I have to make. Cause you’re coming with me, husband.”
Threading his fingers through Dean’s, Sam flexed his soul around Dean’s. “Here’s my ring, but I’ll be glad to wear a visible one,” he said, nodding as Dean spoke about making it public. He was all for that, one of the reason’s he’d wanted to eat at the hotel restaurant was that he wanted to be seen, to make sure it was known that Dean was his and only his. “I’ll be proud to stand next to you.” As they stood waiting for the elevator, Sam looked at Dean with adoration. His feelings had never died. They never would.
Dean glanced at Sam and felt a flush creep up his face. “Sam, you look like you’re about to swoon,” he said. The way Sam’s face practically glowed with love, the way Dean felt the love coursing through their bonds, it was just amazing to him. “You’re gonna give me a swelled head, you know that,” Dean said, tugging Sam into the elevator when it arrived. He couldn’t help himself and pushed Sam up against a wall and began kissing him, pressing against him, touching him caressingly. “Love you,” he whispered.
Winding his arms around Dean’s broad shoulders, Sam kissed him back, whispering his own feelings on the matter. “For always. Love you for always, Dean.” Dragging him down for another kiss, he didn’t stop until he heard the ding, and the hissing of the opening doors.
Clearing his throat, he managed to tug Dean out of the elevator, cutting through a small throng right outside the elevator doors. A few flashes made him aware that pictures were being taken. “I think everyone will know by tomorrow,” he said, a little flushed, but looking like the cat who swallowed the canary. “And Dean… I think you already have a swelled head. I felt it,” he whispered, giving a low laugh as he looked at his husband from under his lashes.
Dean thumped him in the arm. “The other type. You give me this type just thinking about you.” He knew they wouldn’t get any peace until he made some statement to the press so he stopped and turned to face the many cameras. Holding up a hand, he waited until their questions died away to silence.
“This is my long time boyfriend Sam. We’ve been apart throughout most of the war. We’re now married and on our honeymoon and would appreciate it if you didn’t disrupt this happy reunion and first days after our marriage. When we decide on a time to have a public ceremony that the press can attend, we’ll let you know. Now, that’s as much as you’re going to get from us. Let us enjoy our well earned celebration in peace. We’ll have a more formal statement in a few days.” Dean turned away, pulled Sam up against him, and gave Sam a loving kiss for the cameras, then took his hand and led him into the restaurant. He gave hotel security a nod to let them know he didn’t want the press following them.
Sam gave the press a smile, and let Dean drag him away. Now everyone knew. It made it … real.
They sat at a table next to the elegantly curtained windows, where they could look out of the one-way glass. They ate, and laughed, and asked silly question in a game of twenty questions, trying to guess each others’ answers ahead of time.
“I think my face is gonna crack from too much smiling and laughing,” Sam admitted, moving his jaw from side-to-side.
“I’ll give your jaw some exercise this evening,” Dean said, giving Sam a leer. “But I know what you mean. Mine too. Any bets my messages and emails are overflowing since the ‘breaking news’ about our marriage?” Dean laughed, knowing the marriage announcement was going to throw a wrench into a whole lot of plans other people were trying to make for him. “And I think I’m going to ignore all of them for the rest of the day, because right now, you are all I want to focus on. I think we’ve earned that, don’t you?”
Sam nodded, but offered. “Why don’t you take care of the important ones, and you said you had things to reschedule. You know, you could go to the room after breakfast and do that. I’ll go home and get a few things. That should give you a half hour or an hour.” Mesmerized, he watched Dean lick the syrup off his lips, and then off his fingers. Heat curled through him. “I forgot about that,” he said, sounding breathless.
Dean almost panicked at the thought of Sam leaving, but sternly told himself to calm down. They didn’t need to be connected at the hip every moment. “Are you...sure? I mean, I can come with you to your place, we can come back here, and you can draw or something while I’m reading and answering messages.” He felt stupid, felt like he was acting like a five year old.
“I was just trying to give you some privacy, but you can come. I’d like you to,” Sam said, his head cocking to the side as he felt Dean’s panic. “I’d never leave you. And you can always, always find me now,” he pointed out. “Which means I can find you,” this time he looked smug. “So, I was thinking… can we wait until I’m 30 before we have kids?” This time, he understood the panic and shock coming at him in waves, and he laughed at Dean.
“You’re joking… right? I mean, uhm, can you get pregnant? Or do you mean adoption? Or what?” Dean blurted out. He’d never considered having kids, not with the life he’d been leading, royalty or not. But if Sam wanted kids eventually, well, he was willing to think about it. Especially if there were years to think about it and nothing needed to be decided right away.
“For someone interested in a Maldevian, you don’t seem to have, um… looked us up on the uniweb,” Sam teased. “Every species, race and culture has a biological imperative to reproduce, even those like ours with a great percentage of our mating pairs being of the same sex.” Course, he still hadn’t answered Dean’s question. Taking a piece of toast, he pushed his eggs onto his fork and took a final bite of his food.
Dean gave him a mild glare. “Married to. Not merely interested in. So spit it out. Can you get pregnant? Do I have to start wearing protection, jerk? Cause if you don’t fess up, we’re not having sex again until I spend hours on the web researching you. So, if you don’t want sex…” Dean finished off-handedly, picking up the last piece of sausage and slowly sucking it into his mouth as he leveled his gaze on Sam.
Sam’s gaze lingered on Dean’s mouth, watching the sausage getting slowly sucked into his sinfully hot lips. “Yeah… I want it…” he said, letting a hot breath out.
Dean smirked and bit the sausage in half and started chewing. “Then answer the question.”
“What?” Sam blinked. He licked his lips as he tried to center himself. “Stop that, jerk,” he huffed, realizing Dean had been leading him on. “Anyway, no, you don’t have to wear protection. I have both ova and sperm. When I will it, it’ll… you know, happen. And I will carry it just for two months, before it is transferred to a pod. Which is very convenient, and will allow for adventuring, and other things.”
Dean sat back and stared a moment at Sam. “We can really… have kids?” he said. He knew there were plenty of hermaphrodites races out there, but usually they looked humanoid rather than human. He suddenly found himself grinning without even realizing it. “Yeah, whenever you want--ah, not too soon. But yeah, we can wait a good couple years. We should wait a good couple years.” Dean couldn’t help himself and got to his feet, took Sam’s hand and pulled him up into his arms. “To our future kids,” he said, and began kissing Sam quite thoroughly.
Sam couldn’t help laughing between kisses. “So, all I have to do is mention kids, to stop you from teasing and get you kissing?” He ran his hand over the side of Dean’s face. “We’ll just have to decide how many we want at a time. Don’t worry, you have a decade to think about it,” he laughed again, and took Dean’s hand and started making his way out of the restaurant.
Dean was still processing that when Sam led him out. “Wait--how many brothers and sisters do you have? His impression from John had been that Sam was an only child. Yeah, he was definitely going to have to research his lover’s race a bit more.
Sam turned, “It’s just me. No… family.” Ignoring the sharp pain in his heart, he jerked Dean to walk faster into the lobby. “Coming with? Or taking care of business?” he asked.
“Not letting you out of my sight,” Dean confirmed, hurrying to get up beside Sam and putting his arm possessively around Sam’s waist. He saw the reporters start to head for them. “I swear I’ll clock the first one of you who asks either of us a question,” he warned them. “I mean it. My husband and I want some peace for a few days. I’ll start shooting out knees if I have to.”
The way the crowd of reporters came to a halt almost had Sam laughing out loud. To him, Dean was soft and loving, but when the soldier in him came out, he could be damned intimidating. Sam smiled at the reporters. “A few days, I’ll make sure he keeps his promise,” he said.
When they didn’t follow but just took pictures, he gave Dean a kiss for their cameras, and then they walked outside. “I’ve been on this world for a few months now. What made you stop here?” he asked Dean.
Dean gave a half-shrug. “Don’t know. Been dreaming about it. I was here once with my family, a long time ago. First place we came when we went on the run. My dad said it was safe for us here. I guess I was hunting for that long lost feeling of security. The galaxy has gone bum-fuck crazy and until the aftershocks of the overthrow of the royals calms down some, I just thought I could safely hide out here. Or maybe a part of me knew you were here. Pick whatever answer suits you because honestly, it was a whim. What about you. Why did you come here?”
“Closest world to the action, but relatively safe. I needed to be where the Resistance could reach me and give me access to their communication systems when there were rescue operations, or when they wanted to run their ships silently during infiltrations.” He gave a shrug. “I could work on my comics anywhere, but for this, I needed to be where they needed me.”
He looked looked down for a moment. “So if you hadn’t come here because of a whim, we might never have…” Reaching around, he closed his own arm around Dean, needing to stay close to him in that moment.
They passed the tavern where Dean had come in and found him. “I think this place will make it into my comics,” he said with a smile, as they turned a corner and walked uphill towards blocks of apartment buildings that were so tall, they disappeared into the clouds.
“Nah,” Dean said shaking his head and a grim look crossing his features. “It was fate. Fate I tried to steal your ship when you were in heat, fate that I happen to like guys for partners. Fate you’re an artist who decided to draw comics about us. Fate I found you again. Or maybe angels are real and Castiel was watching over us. I knew if I didn’t bite it, I’d find you again. I don’t have faith in a lot, but I had faith in that.” He paused at a jewelry store shop window. “Wanna look at rings?”
“Seriously?” His eyes widened a little, but Sam dropped his hand down to grab Dean’s and threading their fingers together, gave a nod. They walked inside and headed for the wall displaying wedding rings.
They each pointed to various rings, and it soon became clear that both of them preferred silver to gold. “There are some made of carved stones and meteorites over there,” Sam said.
“You wanting to wish upon a falling star?” Dean teased and walked over to the other rings. He paused and studied one set. “Huh. Rings from two meteorites from the same fall. So once they were one, then they were two, and now they symbolize being one again. Or two parts of a whole.” He gave Sam a look to see what Sam thought about them.
It looked like brushed silver metal with fiery lights running through it. “When you put it that way,” Sam said, giving Dean’s hand a squeeze and releasing it. “Shall we try?”
Reading the ‘yes’ in Dean’s eyes, he waved a salesperson over to open up the display. “The yellow greens in it remind me of your eyes,” he said, almost shyly.
“Your eyes can get pretty green at times too, you know,” Dean said, smiling at Sam and watching as Sam tried the ring on. “What do you think?” he asked as he slid the other ring on his own hand. It was a good fit.
Putting his hand next to Dean’s, Sam tilted his head to the side, then smiled. “I think they’ll think we’re the easiest marks this side of the known galaxies,” he laughed. “I like it. You?”
“I like it too. I sure as hell don’t want some fancy, intricate ring. This is solid, can handle some abuse, and they fit us, on more than one level. And the fiery colors, yeah, that fits us too.” He pulled out his credit card and set it on the counter. He glanced at Sam. “We do want them, right? Or did you want to look more?” He kept his fingers on the card, waiting for a confirmation from Sam.
“I like them,” Sam nodded, his eyes bright with happiness. “The price…?”
Dean looked at the salesperson. “Will they total less than ten thousand?”
The salesperson nodded, its reptilian head sliding a little side to side. “Just over six for the pair.”
Dean gave Sam a smile. “We’re good then.” He pushed the card across the counter. “I think we can splurge a little on our wedding rings, don’t you?”
Sam gave a nod, but once the salesperson started to wrap up the rings and get them rung up, he looked over at Dean. “We’ll pay for them together.” Since they were essentially married in his mind, he knew they would need to talk about finances and do all the things that were necessary to make them work as a couple.
Dean shook his head. “No, these are mine to buy. My culture wears rings to indicate marriage, yours doesn’t. How about you help pay for the wedding? The private wedding of family and friends.” Dean put his arm around Sam’s waist. “Let’s not worry too much about money at the moment, okay? I might be the prince, but the money of the royals, it’s not really mine. Me, personally, I’m not rolling in cash either. We’ll sort it out once we figure out where we’re going to end up. Besides that ice cream addiction of yours, that’s got to be expensive to support,” he teased.
“I did order specialty ice cream all the way from Alpha Centauri once. For my birthday,” Sam admitted, smiling at Dean. “Actually, I haven’t touched any of my income from Citizen 67. I live off of other small projects, so we should be fine. I just don’t keep tabs on that account,” he gave a shrug, “and I live cheaply, except for my ice cream.”
Dean began laughing. “I was joking--I thought. Keep that Citizen 67 income for the kids, maybe, if we can. Once everything starts to settle down, we’ll option out the story to the movies and become millionaires, how about that?” Dean took the card back from the salesperson, and the bag, then looked into the eye scanner to confirm his identity as owner of the charge card. He gave the reptilian a nod of thanks.
“Thank you,” Sam chimed in to the salesman, still laughing because Dean was surprised by the lengths he actually went for good ice cream. “Kids. You keep thinking about that,” Sam said, looking around as they walked out and up the street. “I was thinking along the lines of using the money to get an adventure ship.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, how about keeping it for a rainy day, then? I’ve got a ship. We can sell it and buy a newer one. And yes, I want to sell it. Too many people could identify the ship as mine and I want a ship we both pick out.” Dean chuckled when Sam’s stride lengthened. “Where’s the fire? Or is there heat building that I failed to notice?”
Sam’s brows knit together, and then understanding dawned. “Jerk.” He smiled. “You were right, I think that one’s gonna stick.”
Reaching his building, Sam pushed the lobby door open and they headed for the elevators. They stepped inside one of them, and he punched in his floor. “I haven’t gone ship hunting since… a long time.” He took Dean’s hand and started down the narrow hall.
Just as they got to his apartment, another door opened.
“Sam. Where the hell you been? I called around and Derek said…” The guy faltered, his eyes wide and staring at Dean. “Citizen 67. He’s… Sam, he’s him, isn’t he. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. You have no idea how many times I’ve--”
“If you say taken the magazine to the bathroom, I will rip your heart out,” Sam supplied, only half-joking.
“I’m Dean, Sam’s husband,” Dean said. “And Citizen 67 is way better looking and more heroic than I could ever be. And you are…?” Just because the guy obviously liked other guys was no reason for Dean to be jealous, but he couldn’t help it and tugged Sam a step back, so he was between Sam and the neighbor.
“I’m Jake. You’re married?” He looked at Sam for confirmation. “Yesterday, you weren’t married. You’re joking, right?” he started to laugh.
Sam smiled and shook his head. “No, he’s not joking. We got married last night. Dean,” he looked at his husband, “Jake is also Resist… I guess ex-Resistance. He was injured and…”
“And missed the end of the war,” Jake said. “I didn’t know you were for real. I mean, I guess I should have known Sam modeled Citizen 67 off someone.”
“You survived the end of the war, and that’s what counts, Jake,” Dean said. “And keep an eye on the news. The government is going to make certain veterans on either side of the war who have been injured get any help and rehab they need. It’s just going to take some time, probably a couple months or more, to get the gears of the government running again.” He glanced at Sam and gave him a smile. “Sam and I met a long time ago, so yeah, I guess he sort of modeled Citizen 67 off me, and I’m honored he did. I hope I’ll live up to his ideals of the man.”
“You never said a word,” Jake said, giving Sam a look. “I’m glad to meet you, in the flesh. Would you mind…” he pulled a credit card sized device out. “Sam, can I have a picture with…”
Laughing, Sam took it and motioned for them to move back a little. “Closer.” He hadn’t expected Jake to take him so literally, suddenly Jake’s arm was around Dean in a tight, two-armed hug. “Guess I’m just gonna have to get used to this,” Sam huffed, but took a few pictures anyway.
Dean gave a smile for the picture, then turned, slipping from Jake’s arms, and shook his hand. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to it, too. Though most people get tongue tied when they realize who I am. It was nice to meet you, Jake.”
Sam unlocked the door, and was aware of Jake standing there even after they walked inside. He only felt a little bad, shutting the door. Putting his arms around Dean, he laughed against his shoulder to muffle the sound.
“As if it isn’t bad enough people get all flustered I’m the prince, now Citizen 67, too.” Dean smacked him lightly on the ass. “Yeah, you better enjoy it now because the request for pictures will just keep coming.”
Dean’s gaze roved around the small apartment. It was basically one room with one door leading to the bathroom he guessed and the other door looked like it might be the closet, or maybe a place for a clothes refresher, or maybe both. Each wall was painted a radically different color from the others, there being a royal purple, a bright yellow, a jade green and a sky blue. Artwork, sketches, storyboard sequences were plastered everywhere except for one corner where there were nothing but a vast collection of starcharts covering every bit of wall space. Odds and ends hung from filaments from the ceiling.
“Quite a place you’ve got here. Very ‘you,’” Dean said his gaze drifting over everything, knowing it would probably take him days to actually take in everything that was scattered about the place.
“A bit crowded,” Sam admitted, “and I wasn’t expecting company. I’ll pack my stuff,” he said. Just as he walked across the room, they heard a loud shout from outside the door, in the hallway.
“Oh my God, I just met the mutherfucking prince of Colton!”
Sam ran a hand over his face. “I think you’ve been found out.”
Dean sighed. “Yeah, sounds like. You pack.” He walked over to the door and opened it. “Jake, shut up, would you? I’m trying to avoid the press. And anyone out to kill me,” he said almost conversationally.
“Sorry man, it’s just--” Jake’s back hit the wall, and he slowly slid down to the floor in a dead faint.
“I think I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do to friends,” Sam sighed, packing as fast as he could.
Dean put his hand over his mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. He turned and looked back in at Sam. “Uh, I think Jake just fainted.”
“What?” Sam swung around to see if Dean was joking, then shook his head and laughed. “Jeez… I’ll call someone to take care of him, or you might make him faint again.”
Grabbing his things, he pulled out his com and called a mutual friend. “I think he’s tipsy… I don’t know, but I gotta go, my husband is impatient.” He hung up, laughing harder, and then setting his com to vibrate when it started to ring.
“Let’s get outta here. And Dean?” He gave Dean a heated look. “I expect you to make me faint…”
“Anything you want, baby, anything you want,” he said, giving Sam the look right back.
The next day, they left their bedroom way past noon. After a quick bite, they headed to the movies. The Cineplex was known for its 360 degrees 3D special effects. They got a ‘couples sofa’ so they could experience the movie together.
It felt like they were in the back seat of the hero’s spaceship, zipping around on a wild ride. Every once in a while, Dean would yell out advice for the apparently idiot pilot, and Sam would laugh. “Just a movie,” he’d remind Dean, squeezing his hand.
“But idiots like that don’t survive firefights,” Dean grumbled. “Although I know a few who have.” He turned and looked at Sam, a predatory gleam entering his eyes. “Slow romantic part of the movie I think,” he said, having no idea if that was actually the case. “So how about some romance for your hero?”
“The music isn’t signaling romance… oh,” Sam said, lips parting at the look in Dean’s eyes. “I think we can arrange that,” he answered, setting his drink down and scooting closer. “So where do you want it, hero?” he asked, slanting his mouth over Dean’s and just touching down lightly. “Here?” He moved lower, and ghosted his lips across Dean’s collarbone, “here?” Then he ran a finger down his middle, “or do you want me down here,” he smirked, loving the way Dean shuddered under his touch.
“I want you anywhere I can have you,” Dean murmured, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. “I did mention my thing about sex in public locations, didn’t I?” He grinned and glanced around. Course he really didn’t want them to get thrown out. The press would have a field day with that. Not that he really gave a shit about the press but more attention wasn’t something he wanted.
Refocusing on Sam, he put Sam’s hand on his already stiffening cock. “Maybe we’ll keep it discreet for now?” he asked, leaning in and kissing Sam.
Sam had been kidding about going down on Dean. As they kissed, he was distracted, and pulled his mouth away, though he continued to press the heel of his hand rhythmically over Dean’s erection. “Are you serious about the public sex thing?” It was a good thing the darkness hid his flush. “I can’t tell…”
Dean gave a chuckle that turned into a soft groan. “Don’t worry, we’ll work up to it. If you--oh God, yeah--don’t like the--mmmm…” Dean’s words got lost as he closed his eyes, enjoying every moment of Sam’s expert attentions.
“Dean? Is that a yes?” Sam gave a frustrated huff at the non-answer, but realized he was partly to blame. Watching Dean in a state of bliss, he knew talking could wait. He kissed Dean, then moved his mouth over the side of Dean’s neck, loving how Dean rolled his hips up, to get the pressure he needed. “Wish I could unzip you,” he whispered, “wanna shove my hand inside your pants. Want to…” he brought his mouth down over Dean’s again, to stem his errant thoughts and words.
“That’s part of the fun,” Dean said, wrapping his arm around Sam’s waist and pulling him closer. His words were a little stilted as Sam worked his cock with squeezing and pressure. He tilted his head to the side, giving Sam all the access to his throat that Sam wanted. “Tell me what you’d do. Me, I’d slide my hands down the backside of your pants and knead that sweet muscular ass of yours, pulling you rhythmically against me.
A breathy moan escaped Sam, who plastered himself against Dean. “Shouldn’t have left our room,” he practically whined. He kissed Dean’s neck again, then his chest, breathing in his intoxicating scent. “I’d… I’d straddle your hips and slide up and down against you. You know, like that stripper in the preview… fuck…” Closing his mouth over Dean’s, he shut himself up by kissing him hungrily, his tongue moving furiously against Dean’s.
Dean kissed Sam back just as hungrily. He would have to learn his sexual appetites were matched or exceeded by his husband’s and it took next to nothing to turn either of them into humping maniacs. Not that he minded, not at all. Every moment with Sam was a gift, and he’d treasure them and try to make up for the years they were apart and everything they’d missed.
He broke off from the kiss long enough to take a breath and look for the right button on the arm of the couch. “Privacy booth, activate. Soundproof too,” he gasped, reaching out and pressing his forefinger on the scanner.
There was a momentary flash of light as the shield protected them from view. They could still see out, but no one could see in. It was a pricey extra, but he didn’t give a damn. “Now what was that about sticking your hand down my pants?” he asked, smirking.
“We can do that? Here?” Sam’s breaths panted out as he stared dumbstruck at Dean. “I… whoa…” The possibilities were endless now.
He ran a hand through his hair, and then looked up at Dean. “I used to imagine us doing it in the observatory,” he admitted. “I couldn’t bring myself to ask you.” Seeing as the film’s setting was mostly in the stars, it brought all of that back to Sam.
He started to undo Dean’s belt, his gaze dropping down to the hard line of Dean’s shaft pressing back against the fabric of his pants.
“Yeah, cool huh? I’ve been to a lot of movies in places like this and sometimes activated the privacy booth and pretended you were there, with me. Sometimes we’d just watch the movie, curled up in each other’s arms. Sometimes...my imagination went to wilder things,” he said, giving a soft grunt as Sam undid his belt and worked on opening his pants. “God, I love you, Sammy. More than anything.”
“You better,” Sam answered, his lips quirking at the corners. “Because I love you like that.” He probably didn’t need to know the answer, but for some reason, the question bubbled up. “Did you pretend with someone else?” Licking his lips, he started to inch Dean’s pants down his hips. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath.
“No,” Dean said without hesitation. “Because no one else would do.” He gave a groan as his cock was finally released from his pants. “And you are so much better than even my imagination of us together,” he said, lifting his hips so Sam could work his pants lower. “And I have a vivid imagination.”
“Then I’ll be competing against your imagination and not a …” he didn’t say ‘stand in,’ and he wasn’t sure why he was jealous anyway. All that mattered was that they were together now.
Closing his hand around Dean’s now familiar shaft, Sam moved his hand slowly up and down, almost like it was their first time and he was learning its dimensions. “I love it when you get hard for me, Dean,” he whispered. “When you jerk your hips… and God, you make me feel like I’m in heat even when I’m not.”
“The advantages of mating with a Human. We’re always in heat,” Dean said with a smirk, giving a small thrust of his hips. “And baby, I only get hard for you. I love it when you…” he gave a small groan, “act like it’s the first time you’ve touched me, first time you’ve seen me. It sets me on fire. But anything you do sets me on fire.” Dean let Sam work him at whatever pace he wanted. All he cared about was it was Sam’s hand on him.
“I like how you feel, how you taste. I like to start from the beginning,” Sam tried to explain, moving his hand up and down satin soft skin stretched taut over hard steel. He definitely had two settings. Slow, gentle and innocent at times, and then hard, fast, and able to feign the experience he didn’t have.
Looking down into Dean’s lap, he ran his tongue over his lower lip, then bent over, one hand pressing flat against Dean’s abs for support. Guiding Dean’s tip to his mouth, he started to suck on his crown, running his tongue over its contours. Slowly, he took a little more of Dean inside his mouth, closing his eyes as he felt the feedback begin, drawing him into Dean’s experience.
Dean watched Sam with rapt attention, seeing the cascade of emotions flow over Sam’s face. Light from the movie cast shadows from every direction and highlighted Sam’s face in artistic ways. Dean was practically lost in just watching Sam, admiring his beautiful features, watching his tongue caress his lip. It was almost a shock when he felt his tip at Sam’s mouth and felt Sam’s hot breath slip over his crown before those silken wet lips encircled him.
He began to pant as he dug his fingers into the soft material of the couch, as Sam tortured his tip, sucking on it and toying with it, then taking more and more of it in. So painfully slow. So painfully erotic. He let himself sink into the feeling Sam was bringing to him, let the shudders that passed over him be obvious and clear, and more than anything, he let his love for Sam fill every dark niche inside him.
The sharp ache of desire came in waves at Sam, winding him up just as surely as Dean was feeling it. But what always surprised him was how he could also sense Dean’s absolute love for him, reassuring him, promising this was for real. He knew it wasn’t easy to concentrate on love, when your hormones were raging, and that Dean was doing this for him. That he cared that much.
I love you, too. With my heart. With my soul. Sam started to bob his head, taking more and more of Dean inside his mouth. Isolating the sensations Dean was feeling, he gave his lover, his husband, the most perfect, the most tailored, oral sex he could give. When Dean’s body screamed for more pressure, he waited a few seconds, and gave him the pressure. And when Dean willed him to move lower, to give attention to his sensitive balls, Sam obeyed, delaying only a little. He felt Dean move towards the edge, and his own body was burning up in flames.
God, you’re perfect. I so don’t deserve you. Dean tried to keep his desires under wraps, trying to let Sam guide them down the road. He wanted Sam to find his own way, to find what made him happy and not just what pleased Dean. As Sam worked him though, he couldn’t hang on to that focus. Instead he let Sam carry him down the road of perfect pleasure as he thrust into Sam’s mouth and Sam’s head bobbed in counterpoint. The fire and electricity of their love seared Dean in all the right ways and he began to groan and cry out, encouraging Sam as his hips thrust faster and faster.
So perfect. This… being here with Dean, it was everything Sam could ever want. And he was driven by the need to make sure this, he, was the only one Dean would ever want. So he worked his husband harder, giving him everything he had, using everything he’d learned about Dean’s body to push, push, push him to the very edge. Taking Dean deep in his throat, he moved faster, sensing the exact moment Dean stopped being able to hold it together. And that’s when Sam pushed him one last time, holding Dean’s hip down firmly as he tensed, thrust one more time, and came hard inside Sam’s mouth. Sam sucked down every drop of Dean’s hot, gushing cum, then gently let him slip out of his mouth.
“I think somebody liked the movie,” he whispered, watching Dean, loving his blissed out expression. Hearing his harsh pants. “Me too, I loved it,” he whispered, kissing Dean, and running his hand one more time over his cock and pulling his shorts up.
“Best movie, ever,” Dean gasped out. “Ten stars. No, a hundred. Award winner, definitely. We’ll have to come back and see it again.” Dean gave a small pained sound as Sam touched his overly sensitive cock. “Awesome,” he breathed happily as Sam covered him. He lifted his hips and tugged up his pants, then grabbed hold of the front of Sam’s shirt and pulled him close. He kissed Sam slowly, tasting himself in Sam’s mouth. He felt jealously possessive in that moment and savored it. Sam was his. Would always be his. And he was the luckiest damned fool in the galaxy.
* * *
Sam let out a deep breath as the last of the reporters left the room. They’d given them a half hour for questions, and a lot of them had been directed to him, since he was an unknown.
They’d told the press they’d met during the early years of the war, and had kept their romance at a slow simmer because they didn’t know what was coming or how long the war would last. They both wanted Dean to concentrate on the war effort. That part of the interview had been the toughest for Sam, because his soul still rebelled against the way Dean’s soul had been torn from him. And the absolute darkness after. He thought he managed to keep a smile, but he guessed he’d know for sure once the news hit the papers, and the news feeds.
“That was… like flying on manual with you,” Sam said, putting his hand on his stomach, to calm the butterflies.
“Hey! I’m a damned good pilot. That was, plain and simple, torture.” Dean walked over to Sam and took his hand. “Unfortunately, it’s also something we’ll have to do again, I’m sure. At least when they find out your race, we have Citizen 67 to prove we knew each other before and that you didn’t ‘trap’ me, trying to get at the throne or whatever the flavor of fear is that day.” He gave Sam a light kiss on the lips. “How about we head upstairs to have dinner in the penthouse? And… how do you feel about having a guest join us for dinner? Only dinner, I promise, because I don’t share well.”
“I sorta did… trap you, and then untrap you, and trap you again,” Sam said, giving a shaky laugh. Yeah, he didn’t look forward to those sorts of questions. They’d have to practice their answers. “Dinner and a guest sounds great, we’re all dressed up,” he pointed out. “Besides, I can’t get enough of your war stories,” he laughed. Dean’s friends had a tendency to tell the stories, though Sam thought they exaggerated a lot.
Taking Dean’s hand, he headed for the back exit from the conference room, so they wouldn’t have to walk through the throng of reporters again.
“That’s only because I don’t tell you about the days that sucked ass,” Dean said, giving Sam’s hand a squeeze but letting him lead the way. Once they were on the elevator headed up, he took a fortifying breath. “The guest… it’s your dad. Please don’t be too pissed at me.” He waited for the explosion and raking over the coals Sam had all rights to doing. He knew he should have cleared it with Sam, but Sam and John were a lot alike and he didn’t figure Sam would ever willingly see his father again unless Dean pushed the matter.
“What?” Releasing Dean’s hand, Sam let out a deep breath. He felt like he’d just been sucker punched. The blood drained from his face and he felt like he was gonna be sick. “Trial by fire, followed by trial by fire. This your idea of a romantic night,” he asked tightly, looking steadfastly at the elevator doors. A part of him just wanted to run away from this, to just step out of his body and...
“Make up sex will be awesome when you finally forgive me?” Dean offered softly.
“Don’t bet on it.” Sam retorted. His nostrils flared as he took another breath. Pressing his lips together, Sam tried to work out what he was going to do.
Dean gave him a strained smile. “I know you don’t want to see him, and I warned John you might tell him to fuck off, that you might not be ready for this… but I’d really like him to be at our wedding. I was hoping if you two could start to make peace now, maybe by the wedding… maybe you’ll want him there too. I’m not going to force you into this. He’s not up there waiting on us. I wanted to give you the option of saying no. I’m just hoping you won’t.” Dean stared at his husband hopefully, but knew the odds of Sam agreeing to see John were small.
The doors hissed open, and Sam walked through them, turning to face Dean. “You couldn’t have given me some notice. You had to,” he gestured with his hand, his eyes darkening a little. “...spring it on me like this? I would have liked some time to… to think, to prepare. I don’t even know what to say to him, Dean.”
“I try to talk about John, you clam up. If I’d given you any notice, you’d have shut me down.” Dean stepped forward, lightly touching Sam’s side as he looked up into dark, angry eyes. “If you really can’t deal with it tonight, then… then I’ll tell him we’ll reschedule. But if you have too much time to think, you’ll get yourself all worked up, over and over and over. You dwell on shit, Sam, you dwell on it until it’s eating you up. I’m the one with the guilt complex. I don’t want that for you, too.”
He did dwell on stuff. That’s how Citizen 67 had been born. That’s why he kept close tabs on Dean and his dad during the war, and was able to give a long distance assist now and again. That’s why he spent hours just recalling those few days when his father had tortured him like no father should, and then tried to reconcile that with the father he knew and loved. Who’d protected him.
He felt his eyes sting with tears, and he swallowed. “I don’t know what to do.” He looked down at Dean’s hand on him, drew strength from his touch. “Sometimes I wanted it to be like it used to be, you know? He was everything to me, once. And then I remember being tied to that damned bed. For days. Days, Dean, like some prisoner. And I just can’t understand how someone could do that… I just can’t.”
“He didn’t want you coming after me. He knew how hard it is for a human to give up a bond. I mean, I didn’t give up the bond all the way anyhow. I clung to it stubbornly. I couldn’t have walked away a second time. I needed you safe. He needed you safe. And it killed him. It almost destroyed him, doing that to you.” Dean placed his other hand on Sam’s side and stepped next to him, feeling Sam’s body heat.
“Truth is Sam, you may never understand how he could do that. Even once you’re a father, you might never understand. The only thing I can offer you is that you have to have faith that he did it out of love. For right or for wrong, the reason was love.”
“I was so happy, and then…” Sam faltered. He knew Dean was right. That he would never understand, and never agree his dad had been right. But he also knew, even though he tried to deny it, that his dad thought he was somehow saving Sam from a destructive relationship or something.
He dragged his hand over his face. “I drew him as an ass. A donkey, once. I guess I could focus on that instead,” he huffed, thinking about how childish he’d been.
“We could focus on some ice cream, if that would help,” Dean suggested, giving Sam a hug before pulling back and kissing him. “Maybe after a bowl of your favorite ice cream you’ll be ready to face him. You know me, dessert before dinner is always an awesome plan.”
“My favorite is across town. I’d like nothing better than to go there now,” he said, shaking his head, then leaning against Dean. “Okay, okay,” he said, nuzzling Dean’s neck and breathing in his scent. “Let’s have ice cream, and I can dwell on what the hell I’m gonna say to him, until he gets here.”
“I had some of your favorite ice cream brought in for tonight. I figured you’d want it, no matter what decision you made.” Dean made a soft pleased sound, feeling Sam’s lips at his throat. “And I’m gonna be embarrassed as hell if I have a hard on when your dad gets here. Jerk.”
“Then I’m gonna do my best to give your one,” Sam threatened, flexing his body against Dean’s, and backing it up with a little soul action. “That’ll give me something else to dwell on…”
* * *
The dinner had been awkward, but John thought it could have been a lot worse, like if Sam had completely refused to see him. Even so, Sam hadn’t said much of anything to him and on the rare occasions that their eyes met, John could see the hostility in Sam’s.
When a call came in that Dean had to take, John suspected it was all part of Dean’s plan. He was grateful for the time to speak with Sam privately. Hopefully Sam would speak with him.
“You’ve got a very stubborn and determined husband,” John said after Dean stepped into the other room.
“He’s perfect,” Sam countered, raising his chin. The fact that his father acknowledged Dean as his husband mollified him only a little.
“I’m glad,” John said earnestly. “When I found out he still felt you… I knew then you two would always be soul-bound. So I did what I could to make certain he survived the war.”
“Huh.” It was a noncommittal sound. Sam stabbed another piece of steak and put it in his mouth, taking his time chewing it. A storm of emotions raged inside him, but every once in a while he’d feel Dean touch his soul. “Guess that explains the ‘best buds routine,’” he finally said, his voice a little tight, but not as cool as it had been. “On the news feeds, and… practically everywhere.”
John gave a hesitant nod. “Yes. As things heated up these past couple years, I grew more concerned about him. When a saboteur's bomb went off a few seconds early, it killed most of the people in the command center and nearly killed him as well. He was on death’s door for a couple weeks and that’s when I declared myself his bodyguard. He’s one very impressive young man. Rather like you.”
“Bodyguard?” Sam looked up. “But you’re a smuggler, how could you…” He rubbed the back of his neck, hating the fact that he might have missed out on some information. There had been absolutely nothing about Dean in the hospital from his sources during the war, and his husband had never mentioned it.
“They knew me well enough to let me join the Freedom Fighters and I had valuable contacts. Once I was in, I assumed the role of bodyguard. I didn’t ask, I didn’t say it or spell it out. I simply did it. He got real pissed at me anytime I made him wait while his ship was checked for sabotage or when I wouldn’t let him go off alone on a mission he clearly needed back up on.” John gave a shrug. “We had something of a love-hate working relationship. He’s got a wicked right hook, by the way.”
One thing his dad was very good at was providing protection, and making sure ships were secure. Except that one time.
He watched his father from under his lashes. He was grateful of course, but also pissed as hell now. “So I guess you somehow thought it was your place to be at his side, and not his soulmate’s. Not very Maldevian of you,” he grit out. All his life his dad had immersed him in his culture, made sure he knew its history and that he went back often, so he’d know who he was despite the fact that they moved around from world to world. Then he’d gone against Maldevian traditions, breaking his bond, and even usurping his position, or that’s how it felt to Sam. Even if he knew real well that he’d have been useless in protecting Dean the way his father apparently had.
John’s eyes flashed with anger and he met Sam’s gaze. “You wouldn’t talk to me. Honor dictated that I step in and protect him since you were… incommunicado. So I took the only place I could.”
“Honor.” Sam’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, and there was nothing he could do about it. “Where was your honor when I needed you?” He bit his lip, trying to stem his outburst, and drew a deep breath. “Fine. Thank you for watching out for my mate.” He forced the polite words out, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “I’m glad he had you to watch over him.”
“I was there for you Sammy,” John said, his heart breaking at his son’s words, tears stinging his own eyes. “I know you feel I… I made the wrong choice. And maybe my need to keep you safe shouldn’t have overridden your right to choose your own path. I couldn’t lose you. It was selfish on my part. But I also know that I couldn’t have changed Dean’s mind. You couldn’t feel it, you were lost in the heat, but he was in agony over the recent loss of his lover, Gabriel.”
Sam pushed away from the table and walked away to look out the window. “You told me once that losing mom felt like someone sawing your arm off.” He sniffed. “It was worse,” he said, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand.
John stood up and came around the table to stand at Sam’s side. “I know. It’s like no other pain,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry. I can’t change it. I can apologize from now to eternity and it won’t change a damned thing. I hated myself for doing it, for putting you through that. And then I lost you anyhow.” The tears began to spill down his cheeks.
The only time Sam had seen his father cry was when they’d lost his mom. Somehow, seeing that rock of a man cry had Sam crying a little harder. “I just wanted you to be happy for me… I just…” He was calling for Dean, but somehow he found himself throwing himself into his father’s arms. “I just wanted…”
John wrapped his arms around his son and just held him, something he never thought he’d get to do again. “I know Sammy, I know. I’m very happy for you. I’m proud to have Dean as my son-in-law, and even prouder to have you as my son.” There was nothing more he could say so he simply held Sam and tried to soothe what pain he could.
Dean stood in the doorway, watching. Sam and his father needed this, needed to acknowledge they were important to each other, but it was hard not to go to Sam. I’m here, Sam. I’ll be here, always.
Sam remembered how often he’d tossed himself into his dad’s arms as a kid. Skinned knees. Hurt feelings. Frustration when he didn’t do well at something. And his father always found a way to make it better. Sam wished he could now. Make everything go away and start over.
He looked up and saw Dean standing there. Dean said he dwelled on things. Maybe he just needed to dwell on the happiness he’d found. And deep down, he knew his life wouldn’t really be complete without his dad in the picture. That hole in his life, it hadn’t been just about Dean.
He slowly pulled away and dried the rest of his tears, a little embarrassed. “I know, too old for this,” he said, his voice a little husky. He licked his lips and looked from one man, to the other, then at the empty dining room table. This wasn’t what he wanted for his future. He wanted laughter around his table. He knew that Dean had adopted his father as his own father in some ways, and he wanted that for Dean. And he also wanted his … their children, to know their grandparent.
“Look, and I mean this for both of you,” Sam said firmly. “We are never going to agree about what happened back then, but maybe we can move on. If we learn from our mistakes.” Okay, it was pretty clear he meant their mistakes. “You are never, ever gonna make decisions for me. I don’t care if you think it’s in my best interest, for my protection, whatever.”
He looked at Dean. “You’re my husband, I’m your partner. Not someone under your command, or someone you need to shield from life. We will make our decisions, together.” Then he turned to his father. “You’re my dad, and I’m an adult. I make my own decisions.” He took in a breath, then wagged his finger between them. “And no more of this ganging up on me crap. I’m glad you’re great friends and think alike…” It struck him now, that Dean’s disposition was a lot like his dad’s. Shit… was he marrying his dad? He’d read one too many psychology book, and he tried to scrub his mind of that thought. “That’s… that’s basically it.”
Dean grinned, relief filling him. “No promises on the not ganging up on you as I’m sure there are surprise birthday parties to be thrown and the like.”
John gave a nod. “A very headstrong adult… who still eats ice cream like it’s a primary food group. I retain the right to harangue you about things. That is a fatherly right I will always have, regardless of your age or mine.”
It was amazing, how much weight lifted off Sam’s shoulders. He gave a short laugh. Then looked at the two men, and laughed again, nodding at them as he walked to the table. “Dean, I think we still have the champagne in the fridge. “I think my dad said something about wishing us happy.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Dean teased and headed toward the fridge. As he passed John, he gave John a slap on the back. “Told you he’d mellowed.”
John smirked and settled back at the table. “I hear tell that’s a sign of old age.”
“It’s started already…” Sam huffed, but he was smiling. A little alcohol, and he would probably get as mellow as they were implying.
* * *
There were several hearings before Parliament, and meetings with court counselors. In the end, it was decided that His Royal Highness Prince Dean Eric Robert Campbell the Third, Duke of Lawrence, Earl of Kansasian, Royal Knight of Letters and Knight of the Noble Order of Impala would abdicate his right to the throne, and his younger brother, Adam, would be crowned king and ruler.
Once the public was apprized and had the time to process the fact that their beloved hero would not take the throne, it was time for the formal proceedings. These took place behind closed doors, with the highest members of Parliament witnessing the passing of the throne.
Dean sat at one side of the long conference table, and Adam on the other. A stack of papers were placed before each of them. They had to sign each document, place their seal on it, and pass it to the other. Once the final document was signed, Adam would be the ruling crown prince, until his coronation in a year’s time.
Dean eyed the thick stack of papers and glanced over at his brother. “You would think I could just sign everything electronically with one signature. I think that ought to be your first changed rule, cause, damn, my hand is gonna fall off by the time I sign everything. No one else should have to go through this torture,” he said as he plucked the next sheet off the stack and signed his name, then handed it across to Adam.
“It hasn’t happened in a thousand years, and probably won’t in another thousand. It may not merit putting a motion before Parliament,” Adam chuckled, his face growing more serious at a cough from somewhere behind him. Parts of this event would be broadcast. Scrawling his signature, he stamped it with his seal. “But this wax and seal thing… so archaic,” he muttered.
“And signing our names with ink isn’t?” Dean laughed, ignoring the couple glares and murmurs from the people in the room. “Aww, get your panties untwisted,” he told Parliament. “This is an historic event, and if we sit here all somber for the next three hours, Adam and I will both fall asleep. And count your lucky stars I’m not gonna be your king or I’d kick out all the stuffed shirts.” He rolled his eyes at the mutters. “Geez, I’m kidding. Humor. You ought to try it sometime. This is something to be celebrated. You’re getting a prince who went to advanced schooling and is a humanitarian. God forbid another war comes along, but if it does, Adam can call me back as an advisor, if he wants.” Dean shook his head, trying to get comfortable in the chair. He was feeling antsy and was so ready to get the hell out of all the pomp and circumstance.
“He’s not kidding,” Adam countered drily. “My brother has a lot of virtues, but patience isn’t one of them.” Speaking of which, he looked up at Dean and noticed he was moving around. “Just like grade school,” he muttered.
Dean signed another sheet and put his seal on it. “Amen to that,” Dean agreed with regards to his lack of patience. He slid the sheet across the table and froze for a moment as warmth washed through him… and settled in his groin. “What the…?” he muttered and shifted again. He hadn’t been away from Sam for that long. Focus. Just focus on signing your name. Quickly and efficiently so I can get out of here. Focus, he counseled himself, taking long, deep breaths.
“You got somewhere more important to be?” Adam raised a brow, and went back to signing. “Maybe you and Sam want to come over for dinner? We’d love to see you one last time before you take off again.”
“Believe me, officially handing you the throne is at the top of my priorities,” Dean said. “Yeah, dinner would be good,” he agreed. He looked over his shoulder at one of the attendants. “How about a snack and some iced tea or something? I would appreciate it,” he said, thinking maybe if he had something in his mouth it might be a good distraction. He gave a slight wince and shifted his legs, trying to hide the hard on he was beginning to develop. All his mind kept flashing to was Sam. Naked. Waiting for him.
An attendant immediately brought some ice tea over, while another one brought a selection of finger sandwiches. “Smoked salmon, or pate?”
Dean looked at the sandwiches and licked his lips. “Chips. Are there any chips?” he asked hopefully. Something crunchy. And flat. That would be good. Or better, at least. He stamped his seal, then grabbed the next couple documents. He really wanted---needed to try to move this along. He was ready to grab the icy drink and pour it over his groin.
“Chips. Right away.” The server took the tray away and ordered a runner to go to the kitchens and order the cooks to fry up a fresh batch of chips.
“Your handwriting is getting worse. These are historical documents, Dean,” Adam pointed out. Glancing up, he sat back. “Are you coming down with something? You’re flushed.”
Dean pulled at his fancy shirt collar. “No, I’m, uh, fine,” he said and gave a strained smile to his brother. “Sorry, I’ll write neater,” he added, slowing his pen down to write his name more clearly. His eyes kept drifting toward the door and it felt hot and stuffy in the room. Subconsciously he kept clenching and unclenching his free hand.
“Someone turn the air up,” Adam said. He tugged on his own jacket, “Too stuffy for you, huh?” He shook out his own hand and started signing again.
“Yeah, I guess. Some like it hot, but trying to focus, some cool air would be good,” he said, sweat beginning to slide down his face. It was taking everything for him to stay seated. He wanted to go to the door and get the hell out of here. He needed Sam. He really needed to see Sam. To touch him, to hold him, to kiss him. Dean closed his eyes and gave a soft groan as he felt his cock grow completely hard and his balls felt heavy and seemed to pulse in time with his heart beat.
“Dean.” Getting no reaction, Adam snapped his finger. “Dean. Concentrate. We’re almost…”
The double doors to the conference door opened, and Sam stood there. He looked just a little disheveled. His shirt unbuttoned part way, his face was flushed, and his lips scarlet from biting on them. His eyes were filled with desire for his mate. Seeing the pile of paper in front of Dean, he gave a low groan and reached for the door frame for support. It had been a helluva walk from their new ship. He’d stumbled, and moved in ways that befitted a stripper, though he’d tried to exert control over his needs. But heat was heat, and there was no holding it back when it struck.
Dean’s attention snapped to the door. The scent of his mate hit him and he shoved away from the table, the chair tumbling over. He began pulling at the numerous scarves tied in elaborate knots around his neck and collar, dropping each one he freed carelessly to the floor. He didn’t hear the protests, the calls to him. There was no one else in his universe as far as he was concerned except for Sam. He stumbled forward, shoving someone yelling at him out of the way. His gaze was locked with that of his mate’s. “Sam…” he groaned softly as he wet his lips and moved more quickly towards his husband.
A few counselors rushed to block Dean’s way. “Sir, please… the papers…”
Sam took a step towards Dean, but his way was barred. He’d already been told that only officials could go in. He tugged on his own shirt. “Dean…” His eyes were focused on Dean, every fiber of his being calling to his mate, begging him to give him what he needed to knock down the flames burning him.
Dean moved steadily forward, pushing between those blocking his way, punching someone who grabbed hold of his arm to stop him. His soul reached out to Sam. He felt Sam’s desperate need and tugged at his belt, the sword and its scabbard falling, clattering to the floor. “Sammy,” he whispered beginning to growl when he saw people blocking his way, and when he saw someone dare touch his mate and try to take him away.
Pushing away from the table, Adam raised his hand up. “We will continue this proceeding in a few hours. Or…” he coughed, “days.” He wasn’t sure how long Maldevian heats went, but anyone who knew what Sam was, which at this point was all the worlds, should know exactly what they were seeing.
Dean’s growl and forward motion was Sam’s cue. He pushed away the man trying to block his way and moved directly, and shamelessly, into Dean’s arms. “I tried to wait… I tried…” he whispered. “We need to find a place.”
Dean held him close. “Shhh. Anything you want. Anywhere you want. I’m yours. Just ask. Just tell me,” he soothed. Having Sam in his arms gave him back some measure of control over his body, though he was still starry-eyed for his lover. He resisted kissing Sam only so he could hear where Sam wanted to make love.
Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck. He’d needed him so badly, craved him like the air he breathed. And he’d resisted so long, until he’d stumbled half-blindly out onto the street. “Can we… can we get a ride to the ship?” That’s where he wanted this to happen, but there was no way they were gonna make it if they walked or ran.
“Of course,” Dean said. “Even if I have to steal it,” he said with a soft chuckle. In a voice that echoed with authority in the room, Dean demanded, “A royal coach is needed to airlift us to the starport. Now.”
He didn’t take his eyes off his love, but he felt the people scrambling around him. “Apologies to everyone, but my husband needs me,” he said, some distant part of his mind recognizing he was leaving an important event, but he just didn’t give a damn.
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered. “I didn’t think…” And yet he clung to Dean, ready to blast anyone or anything that threatened to come between them. All he could think about was his mate, and his need to bond with him right the hell now.
They were ushered out and taken to the roof. Within minutes they’d boarded a small private craft. Even before it was up in the air, Sam wormed his way onto Dean’s lap and plastered himself against his mate, seeking his mouth with his own, and kissing him with the fire burning inside him.
“What, no ice cream?” Dean teased, in between kisses. He gave a groan when Sam pressed down on his groin, his hard cock already sensitive and dripping. He kissed Sam back as ferociously as Sam was kissing him, the flames of passion searing his insides with need.
“Don’t think ice cream would cut it,” Sam huffed, slanting his lips over Dean’s, first one way, then the other, moving against him like he couldn’t get enough. Feeling the press of Dean’s arousal, he groaned, grinding down over Dean.
It wasn’t enough. “Fuck.” Grunting the oath, he almost violently lifted the arm rests of the chair up, and lifting his body, straddled Dean’s thighs. “Better,” he whispered, dipping his head down and kissing his way along Dean’s jaw, as he undid the rest of the damned scarves and started to open his shirt up.
“Thought you wanted to wait to fuck until we reached our ship,” Dean said, smirking, seeing the annoyance plain on Sam’s face as he struggled to undo the elaborate knots. When Sam finally got his shirt open, the cool air brushed over his sweat dampened body and his nipples grew tight and hard. He began to peel off Sam’s shirt, his eyes filled with hunger at the thought of seeing that golden-toned body.
“Fine.” Sam let out a hot breath and shrugged his shirt off. “So you just gotta keep your pants on, no matter what,” he said, splaying his hands wide across Dean’s chest, running his palms down over his heated skin. Seeing Dean lift his hips, he swallowed hard. “Even if…” Yeah, he was already reaching down to undo Dean’s pants, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Your wish, my command,” Dean said and grabbed Sam’s hands, pulling them away from his waistband. “Guess I’ll have to keep you distracted until we reach the ship.” He tugged Sam up against him, holding Sam’s hands and twisting his arms behind Sam’s back. He forced Sam to lean back a little so he could dip his head and begin focused torture of Sam’s right nipple with his mouth, sucking and licking and lightly biting and tugging on it.
“Dean…” Sam gritted out, partly in frustration and partly with pleasure. He still hadn’t gotten the art of patience down, but Dean was determined to teach him. The jolt of white hot pleasure from Dean tonguing his nipple had Sam throwing his head back. Instinctively, he tried to break free, but then grasped Dean’s hands, lacing their fingers together, and hanging onto him. He started to slowly rock his hips, his eyes glazing over. “How can you stand it. The wait?” he asked, between heavy breaths.
Dean danced his tongue over to the dip in Sam’s chest, then paused at Sam’s question, his own breathing heavy, his body drenched in sweat. “Because waiting makes it better,” he said, then licked his way over to Sam’s other nipple. “Each touch, every tease, it builds your desire, your needs, your wants. It brings everything higher and higher until it hurts so perfectly, so exquisitely, that you wonder why you don’t always do it.”
Dean began laving his tongue around and around Sam’s nipple, then spoke again. “And I’m human. We don’t have defined times of heat, at least, not like you. It feels different this time, harder to… harder to stay in control. I know you want privacy, I know you want us in our own place. If I wasn’t holding on to that desire in you with everything I can,” he gave a strained chuckle, “you’d be naked and taken already.”
Arching, Sam groaned. It wasn’t just Dean’s wet tongue that was driving him nuts. It was his hot breaths blowing across his sensitive skin. His calloused hands tightening around his own each time Sam writhed and ground against Dean. And the pitch of his voice, damn how his voice got to Sam all the time.
“I… what I want is a re-write of the last time,” Sam admitted. “I want you… want you to carry me down our hall.” I want you to stay, his soul whispered, even though he knew, knew beyond question, that this time it was forever between them. They were already bound.
“I’ll give you what I couldn’t last time,” Dean whispered against Sam’s skin. “Me.” He laid his head against Sam’s chest, listening to the pounding of Sam’s heart for a moment. “All of me. Every moment of my future is yours. I feel it, how you’re scared I’m going to somehow leave you again. I won’t. I swear. Nothing but death could make me leave your side, and maybe, not even that.” He planted a kiss on Sam’s chest then looked up into Sam’s eyes. “I love you.”
Eyes glued to Dean’s, Sam nodded. “I know. I know Dean,” he whispered, his arms now free to close around Dean’s broad shoulders. “I love you, and nothing is ever taking you from me,” he agreed. Concentrating on what was in his heart helped ease the need burning inside him.
He cupped the back of Dean’s head, and brought his mouth down over Dean’s, kissing him thoroughly, with everything he had in him.
The craft bounced onto the tarmac, and Sam immediately peeled himself off Dean. They were both flushed, and looked debauched. “Hope there are no cameras…” he said, not having any prayer of putting themselves in any order.
Grabbing Dean’s hand, he pulled him toward the exit, ducking to step out. Then they were running toward their ship at breakneck speed.
Dean had to stretch his stride a little to keep up with his taller lover, and he found laughter on his lips as they ran across the landing field. He knew this moment would be etched in his memory forever. As soon as Sam unlocked and entered the ship, Dean followed, and swept him up in his arms. If Sam wanted to be carried, he’d damn well carry him. Dean was kissing Sam almost immediately and staggered down the hall, running in to walls and door frames and not giving a damned.
He smiled against Sam’s lips, then began laughing. “I’m making you mine the way I wanted to, the way I’ve always wanted to.”
Hanging onto Dean, Sam laughed with him. “I didn’t mean… you didn’t have to from the door… I’m much heav--” His words were cut off as they kissed again. Sam’s heart swelled. This man was his for keeps. This ship was theirs. And this was no dream.
His back hit a wall, then his knee did, but he barely noticed. Dean had come to him when Sam needed him, and it would always be like that. They’d be each others’ priority. Above everything, and everyone.
Then the doors to their room hissed open, and Sam dropped down to the ground. Seeing Dean’s disheveled state, his nostrils flared. “God you’re sexy,” he said, eyes burning for his lover. Taking his hand, he walked again, then sat on the edge of the bed, tugging Dean so Dean stood between Sam’s legs. “I would have fallen for you without the soul-bonding. I mean if I’d seen you in some tavern, and you, you know, did your thing,” he said, meaning every word.
“And what is this thing that I do?” Dean asked, smiling down at him and running his hands over Sam’s bare shoulders.
“You know what I mean. Your pick up lines. That thing you do with your eyes, your voice. Hey baby, you wanna…” he waggled his brow in a terrible imitation, then grabbing Dean’s hips, dragged him close and mouthed his way down his stomach and abs, before pulling back up and giving a satisfied smile at the barely hidden reaction inside Dean’s pant.
Dean started to chuckle. “I haven’t used pick-up lines--” his voice fell away when Sam planted his warm lips on his stomach and his gaze was riveted on him. When Sam stopped making love to his stomach, he gave him a mild glare. “You’re evil. With a capital ‘E.’ And for the record, you’re not my type at all. I like ‘em short and scrawny and blond and with a voice that’s high and scratchy. I would’a walked right past you in a bar--” he said, running his thumb over Sam’s plump, reddened lips.”...and grabbed you and dragged you to the nearest hotel room if you so much as looked at me twice,” he finished.
“Good save,” he laughed, biting Dean’s finger as if in revenge.
“Hey!” Dean complained at the bite, but shut up when he saw where Sam’s gaze had shifted.
Sam worked Dean’s pants down his hips, one side at a time, his breath hitching when Dean’s cock pulled free of the material and stood tall, just inches from his mouth. Still holding onto Dean’s hips, he dipped his head down, and licked a path up along the underside of Dean’s cock. “And you would have been a damned fool if you’d walked right past me,” he said licking his lips and parting them, then sucking on Dean’s tip.
“And I’m no--aw, fuuuuck…” Dean hissed as Sam’s lips touched his highly sensitive cock. “Mmmm,” he groaned nudging his hips forward a little, wanting very much to fuck Sam’s mouth, to feel himself encased in that wet delicious heat and feel his lover’s tongue tease his need higher and higher. He ran his fingers through Sam’s soft hair. “Don’t ever cut your hair any shorter,” he murmured, loving how he could entwine his fingers in that dark hair.
Dean was so erect, Sam didn’t have to hold him. He started to bob his head up and down his length, taking a little more inside the wet heat of his mouth each time. Sometimes he moved in circular motions, his hair and cheek brushing against Dean’s stomach. He loved how Dean tensed, his muscles rippled. Loved how he felt, and tasted. Like he was made just for Sam.
Dean’s head fell back for a minute as he soaked up Sam’s attention, as Sam pleasured him so easily it ought to be a sin. It amazed him how Sam knew exactly what to do, seemed to know every little place that Dean especially loved to be touched. He let his hips move just a little, taking his cues from the way Sam worked him so perfectly.
The feedback was delicious. Everything Dean felt, Sam felt. And Dean knew how much Sam liked to hear his voice, and he gave Sam what he needed. Sam concentrated a little harder and caught a wisp of a wish. Dean wished Sam could touch him everywhere, every inch of his body at once.
Every molecule in Sam’s body, his soul, reacted. Sam was barely conscious of what happened, but even as he gave all of his physical attention to Dean’s cock, tendrils of his soul started caressing Dean everywhere, touching, licking at his body, every inch of him.
A tendril moved across Dean’s mouth, slowly pushing its way into his mouth. And it was just like Sam was kissing him. Another tendril wrapped slowly around Dean’s leg, and slid back and forth across the cleft of his ass.
Dean’s eyes widened as he felt the whisper light touch of “Samness” everywhere on him. He felt him toying with his nipples, he felt Sam’s tongue in his mouth dueling with his own as lips kissed him senseless. Sam’s touch even slid over his crack and his whole body began to react. His hole pulsed and puckered, his nipples grew tight, his balls pulsed with anticipation of release.
How…? Dean asked, too wrapped up in the experience to even be able to speak, but the question was plain to Sam. They could hear each other’s thought through their soul-bond.
Your wish, my command. Sam realized he could pull off Dean, and still give him the sensation of having his mouth on him. But he didn’t want to give up his lover’s cock just yet. So he closed his hand around the base of his cock and started to work him harder, pushing him to the edge, with his mouth and with the tendrils working Dean’s body. Licking at him. Finding all of his secret spots. Finally starting to push into his hole, physically shoving Dean’s hips forward so Sam had to move back.
Dean’s hole fluttered and opened, relaxing immediately, or at least, that’s how it felt to Dean as he felt a tendril slip inside him, sliding deeper to his prostate. It hovered there, writhing and stimulating. Holy fucking shit… he cried out mentally, no longer asking how, but just going for the ride his lover was taking him on. It was like have a hundred Sams making love to him all at once and if there was a heaven, he’d just been admitted to it. Can you, oh my God, can you feel this? Dean asked him as his body rocked and spasmed and twisted and tingled with a thousand pleasure-filled electric charges of pure erotic delight.
So I guess you want me to stay off my suppressants? Sam’s entire body flooded with the sensations that Dean was feeling. The pressure was building, quickly and relentlessly, and Sam could feel Dean trying to fight it, to hang onto this as long as he could. But Sam knew they didn’t have to make it last, so he pulled out all the stops, using every soul tendril at his disposal to push Dean closer the edge. The more Dean fought it, the more Sam wanted release. It became a battle of wills.
I’m destroying every last one of those suppressants, Dean declared, suddenly realizing that this would only be possible when Sam was in heat. That knowledge made him hang on even tighter. He wanted this to last. He wanted to be able to do this for Sam as well, but he couldn’t begin to try. But Sam was determined and Dean finally caved, giving in to his lover’s desires, letting Sam take him careening off the ledge. He came with an explosive release, a release that felt unending as he bucked and thrashed. The orgasm rippled through his body like no orgasm ever had before, searing, pulsing, electric, pure ecstasy made manifest.
Sam’s triumph was short lived, as Dean’s orgasm pulled him over the edge too. Every molecule in his body called Dean’s name, but he managed to keep his mouth around Dean’s cock, swallowing down every hot stream of cum pumping into his mouth.
He closed his arms around Dean as they rode the waves of their joint ecstasy, both of them still rocking their bodies. Slowly, the soul tentacles dissipated.
Dragging Dean down onto the bed, Sam smiled down into his face. He kissed him lightly, then teased by lifting his face up a little. His hand moved between their bodies, to close around Dean’s hard cock. “Looks like you’re ready for round two.” He chuckled. “Maybe there’s no need for patience, hmm?” he gave Dean a look.
“How the hell did you do that?” Dean gasped, then gave a groan when Sam’s hand caressed his cock. “How the hell am I still hard?” he asked. Yet he was. The more he breathed in Sam’s scent, the more he felt the energy crackle between. The more he felt rejuvenated and indeed, he was very ready for round two. “How...how often are you in heat?” he asked as his hips began to slowly rock.
“You still haven’t looked me up on the net, have you?” Sam merely smiled, and kissed him again. Then he got up, and started to pull Dean’s pants off. “We won’t be needing these for a couple days…” he smirked, stripping his own clothes off at the same time.
“Been a little busy, what with getting rid of the crown… oh, crap, I’m gonna have to get in that monkey suit all over again.” He laughed. “I bet after seeing that, no one is gonna put up a fight again about me dumping the throne.” After Sam had divested him of his pants, he reached out and began undoing Sam’s pants. “Let’s shoot for the record of a week,” Dean said, grinning at him.
“A week, huh?” On his knees, Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and looked down, watching the motions of his hand, his fingers. His breath catching with anticipation. “So you know… it could be a lot like a 69,” he blushed. Ever since Dean had shown him that position, he’d favored it, for more than one reason. “I mean, you could fuck me and I could…” he gave a shy smile, “soul fuck you.” It didn’t sound as good when spoken out loud.
“You know you cross over into adorable when you blush like that.” Dean grinned. “And you’re going to have to show me how to do the whole soul-lovemaking thing so I can give as good as I get.” Dean pushed Sam’s pants down to his knees and saw Sam was as hard as he was. “Oh yeah, a week. And remind me to kill your father for not explaining the whole soul-bound in heat thing.”
Sam started laughing and shaking his head back and forth. “I can’t… I can’t be laughing so hard and having sex and… oh, Dean,” he let out a breath. Pushing himself back to sit down on the bed, he helped Dean get his pants all the way off.
He was so hard and heavy, and sensitive. He ached for Dean’s touch. Craved it with every part of his being. His eyes darkened with desire. “How do you want me?” he asked, licking his lips. His heart thundered against his chest.
“With every fiber of my being,” Dean said, his voice growing deep and husky. He felt his lover’s desperate need and reached out, running his hand up Sam’s thigh until he brushed over Sam’s hardness. He crawled forward, forcing Sam onto his back. “How do I want you? I want you hard, desperate, out of control. But for now, I want to explore you all over again. Or,” he grinned mischievously at Sam, “since getting it back up isn’t going to be a problem, we can just dive right in, oh impatient one.”
“Dive, dive, dive,” Sam said, nodding quickly. “Next round, we can do it the human way. Slow as your breakfast syrup,” he smiled, lifting his hips up to gain a little pressure.
“Aye aye. Submarine Sam it is,” Dean said, laughing, leaning down to kiss Sam. “I think we just made up a new name for sexing it up. Submarining. Ahhh-oooo-gaaa,” he said, then covered Sam’s mouth with his own.
It was going to be a delicious, creative, satisfying week…