Introductio in Analysin .... (FNL-SPN) 7/12
Title: Introductio in Analysin Daemonium Infinitorum pt 7
Fandom: SPN-FNL
Pairing: Sam/Tim (Sam/Tim/Dean in a few places)
Rating: Adult (Here there be smut!)
Length: 50k words
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six
Author's Note: This is the cleaned up master version of a story I began writing for MiniNano back in November 2007. Sam Winchester is racing against time to save his brother Dean's life, and he's got Tim Riggins along for the ride ... and a bit more. ;)
The plan was to finish it and post it before the end of S3 of SPN and S2 FNL -- obviously that didn't happen.
Thank you to![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
tartysuz and ixchel55 for their swift beta.
Legalese: SPN and FNL are copyright their respective copyright holders. This work is a labor of whatiffery, not a labor of lucre.
Tim didn't waste much time when he got in the room. Simply started shucking his clothes and turned around a few times. "See, no cuts." He glanced down at a spot on his ribs. "Shit. That's going to be one hell of a bruise." He looked up and the molten heat in his eyes turned Sam's mouth cottony dry.
"I guess this is where I exit, stage left," Dean muttered, his eyes flitting over to Tim several times and then just as quickly away.
Tim cocked his head, looked at Dean and then Sam, and then looked back at Dean and said, "You don't have to. You can go if you like, or stay if you like -- if Sam's good with it." He looked back at Sam and lifted an eyebrow.
(I will always be good with it, and he knows it somehow ... that's the trouble.)
"But ... you and Sam ..." Dean began, but it was weak.
Tim smiled at him. "It's fucking Sunday night in a one-horse town. You're a friend in need." Tim's gaze zeroed in on the bulge in Dean's snug jeans.
Dean lifted an eyebrow. "A friend with privileges."
"Yeah. Sometimes."
Dean nodded and started undressing.
Tim laid on the bed then rolled on to his side and looked at the both of them. After a moment of hesitation, Dean joined Tim on the bed, facing him. Sam watched, mouth suddenly gone sandy dry as they reached for each other.
"Sam?" Tim asked after a moment.
"I-I ..." Sam couldn't put the words into his mouth. "You two ... so hot ... I ...."
Tim laughed, but Dean paused, and Sam could see the doubt gathering in his eyes.
Sam took a few hesitant steps forward. He couldn't speak. He ....
Part of the reason he rarely went looking for a girl after a Hunt stemmed from the fact that it was too raw, his need. Right now he wanted to pounce on Tim and pound him through the mattress, just grab him and drill right in. Use him.
It frightened him. It always had.
And what if they saw it? Saw how massive and raging and unrefined it was? Saw the beast lurking just below the surface? Because, really, he was this close to losing it. That was the worst fear, really. Having somebody else see what he was on the inside.
On autopilot, his fingers moved, undressing himself. Sam climbed onto the bed and tucked in behind Tim, and at the first touch of heated flesh to heated flesh, need roared back, drowning out the voice of fear.
"I want you to put your leg over Dean's hip," Sam whispered in Tim's ear, as he pressed his fingers to Tim's mouth, and it was manna to his soul when Tim gave a knowing, throaty chuckle and sucked them in. He dropped a few kisses on Tim's shoulder.
Dean caught his eye, his look questioning.
"He likes this a lot, what I'm going to do. You'll see."
A truth borne out when Tim groaned a low, rumbly "Ohhhhhh Sam" as the first spit-slick finger pressed in. Sam couldn't contain his own hiss as Tim moaned and clenched around him as he slowly stroked it in and out. "So good, just like that," Tim whispered.
"Take care of Dean," Sam said back, guiding Tim's hand down, careful not to touch Dean, but it thrilled him to the core all the same to be the one closing Tim's hand around Dean's cock.
(All of Dean, none of the guilt.)
He continued to thrust his finger in and out of Tim, who stroked Dean with the same rhythm. Sam shifted up on his elbow, the better to see the expressions on their faces: Dean, eyes closed, mouth open slightly, breath panting out in little puffs; Tim, eyes cat-like slits, a dreamy smile curving his full mouth.
Dean's hand reached down, heading for Tim's cock, but Sam stayed it, causing Dean to start. "No. Just me." Sam said.
"Oh Sam, that's just not fair to the poor guy," Dean laughed and reached once more.
Sam stopped him. "No."
(Mine.)
"Whatever, man." Dean snorted. "He's your boyfriend."
Boyfriend --?
No, not ... well, yeah, actually.
Tim whimpered as Sam sped up. "Please, Sam," his whisper was papery, "I've got to -- you can't just -- I need more."
"Shh." Sam smoothed a lock of hair back from Tim's forehead and drove a second finger in. Tim's eyes screwed shut as he gasped in pleasure, his cock twitching and giving a fresh spurt of wet.
"Sogood sogood sogood, " Tim panted with each breath, body twitching, almost breaking rhythm on Dean. Sam drove in harder and deeper than he'd ever done before and Tim all but convulsed. "OhGod! Do that again!" he yelped. "Like that!" he half-chanted snapping his hips to meet Sam, when Sam found a rhythm.
Sam reached under and around and ... Tim was so hard and so ready--
"Please, please, please," Tim begged
-- Sam drove in deep one last time, crooking his fingers, and smiled when Tim cried out and arched and bucked and came in his hand.
A few moments later, Dean who had been thrusting to meet Tim's hand, groaned and shot, half in Tim's hand, half on Tim's abdomen. "What about you, Sam?" Dean said, after he stopped shaking and got his breath.
Sam didn't respond to him, just looked Tim in the eye, asking -- no, telling him what he wanted.
A long pause followed and Sam could see the struggle in Tim's eyes. Finally he swallowed hard and gave Sam a barely perceptible nod. Sam climbed off the bed and one-handedly fished Dean's wallet out of his jeans, opened it and took a condom out. "Put it on?" he asked, handing it to Tim.
He sucked in several deep breaths when Tim got it out of the package and rolled it down Sam's length. Sam kept his gaze firmly fixed on the indifferent painting of a western landscape over the bed for several heartbeats after; he didn't dare look down at Tim, it would all be over if he did. When Tim removed his hands, Sam's eyes flicked over to Dean, who wore a certain sleepy satisfaction, as if it were an everyday thing to see his younger brother naked, achingly hard, and about to fuck another guy. Part of Sam laughed inwardly at that. Dean had never seen him do more than give a few kisses to a girl, utterly acceptable public displays of affection, and here he was getting ready to .... And he didn't feel the least bit shy about it, didn't mind that Dean watched. He wanted Dean to see.
Clearing his throat he bent and whispered in Tim's ear, "I, um, hear it's easier on you if you're face down."
Tim nodded, the look in his eyes distant, closed off.
"Are you really cool with this?" Sam asked.
(Oh please don't let him change his mind. Not now.)
A long sigh. "Yeah ..." Tim rolled over.
Tim's come had cooled and gone a bit goopy in Sam's hand, but it was all he had to use, so he slicked himself with it, knelt between Tim's spread legs, gripped his hips, and pulled up a little, positioning him, and then guided himself to the entrance. He paused for a beat and then pushed slowly and firmly in. It was harder than he would have liked, the push he had to give to get in --
(So clenched, so tight, not like a woman, which gave a gentle grip from root to tip, but a tight ring of muscle around the base ... different, but good all the same.)
-- and caused Tim to shut his eyes tight and pant through clenched teeth, and reach out for Dean, taking his hand, gripping it tightly for a moment before relaxing.
"We still good? Sam asked. Because he would stop if Tim said to, but oh how he wanted this. It was doing things for him deep in his soul. Tim, mule stubborn, blue collar, raised to be a "man", Tim letting him have this, giving it to him, taking Sam deep inside. An act that was probably scarier to him in some ways than the monster they had just faced down. Sam trembled with the intensity of what it meant to him.
Tim blew out a long breath and opened his eyes. "Just ... give me a moment to adjust."
"Tell me when."
Tim took another long breath, held it a beat, and pushed it out. "Okay."
Sam gave his hips a twitch.
"Oh, Jesus, Sam ... that's ... you have no idea what it's like. No. Idea." Tim's voice grew breathy.
Sam counted to three and began with a slow, gentle stroke, watching the reactions play across what he could see of Tim's face. He switched to faster and deeper, went short and sharp, then switched back to long and slow and deep, drinking it in, the expressions of wonderment and pleasure, watched as they turned to ecstasy, made them ebb and flow, and watching it all on Tim's face added to it for Sam, Tim's pleasure becoming his pleasure, too.
And Dean's, Sam realized, when Dean, who kept his eyes firmly locked on Tim's, brought his hand up and tenderly brushed a lock of hair back from Tim's forehead. The two of them sharing something in the look between them, an understanding that Sam only caught a glimpse of -- it wasn't meant for him, wasn't about him -- but it showed him a new bit of Dean and a new bit of Tim, but he knew one thing for certain, the look that Tim had given Dean was not the same as the one he had given Sam that day in the truck. That was his and his alone and he felt thrilled to know that.
But it wasn't all pure and chaste and profound revelation. This was still sex. And Sam could see Dean coming up again, and he had an inkling that Tim had gotten hard again, too, so he shifted his weight back, tugging up on Tim's hips, Tim's slightly frustrated mutter confirming it.
"No making a wet spot on the bed," he growled.
They all laughed.
Dean had gotten fully hard again, ready to go, and Sam --
(Dear God, he wanted.)
"Blow him, Tim," he rasped. "I want to see you --" The words choked off as Tim's body shook at the idea of it, and clenched down hard around him.
Meanwhile, Dean wasted no time scrambling for the head of the bed.
The sight of his eyes rolling up behind fluttering lashes as Tim took him in was just too much for Sam, who grabbed Tim's hips and slammed home three times hard and came so hard the world turned staticky around the edges.
When his heart stopped hammering in his ears, Sam shakily pulled out and in a fog he stripped the condom from his rapidly softening dick. He paused for a moment to enjoy the sight of Tim and Dean before climbing back on the bed and making Tim lift his hips. He reached around from behind, one hand hovering at the ready as he jerked Tim mercilessly hard and fast -- the way he liked -- and Tim gave a muffled, throaty sound and spilled in his hand a split second before Dean gave a sharp, "Oh, fuck!" and pulled out of Tim's mouth, coming in long, hard spurts all over his own belly.
Dean crawled back down to face Tim who had rolled back on his side (and laughed as Sam wiped his hand clean across Tim's chest and stomach).
"All sticky," Tim mumbled sleepily and happily.
Sam crawled up behind Tim and reached and fumbled the light off, glad that they had cranked the heat upon getting into the room, because he could already feel sleep pulling him down, and suspected that they were all too physically and emotionally spent for anything else at the moment.
~oo(0)oo~
He found himself sitting in an ornate and not very comfortable chair. No ... something this massive could only be called a throne. Above him stretched a roiling, sooty looking sky, and --
"Better to reign in Hell, right?" Ruby said.
Groan. "Hello, Ruby," Sam said, trying not to grumble too much.
She stepped in front of him and gave an impish grin. "What, don't like the digs?" She gestured and continued, "In Azazel's plans --"
"Azazel's plans don't matter anymore." Sam stood and ran a hand through his hair. "So ... can we go someplace else?"
"Maybe."
Before Sam could reply, they blinked into a large hall with a huge ... mirror ... in it. Sam knew somehow that that this was still Hell, or at least the Astral Plane of Hell, but gave up arguing the point with Ruby. There might be a reason she had chosen Hell for this meeting, something that would help Dean.
Her eyes were black pools when she looked at him again. "There's a lot of power in that throne, you know."
Whatever. And a lot of headaches, too. Besides, what was he supposed to do as the King of Hell? Storm the gates of Heaven? Spend the rest of eternity watching his back more like. "I know," he replied evenly, crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow at Ruby, urging her to continue.
"This is the looking glass. Come see."
Sam found himself taken aback to see the three of them in that Colorado motel room, curled tightly together against the encroaching chill, still on top of the bedspread.
Ruby placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'd have him stand at your side, wouldn't you?" she purred. "The left hand side, of course. Dean would be your right hand man. You'd collar him, too, I think."
Sam looked over and snorted scornfully. "Not really into bondage."
"Sorry, that's not quite what I meant. I meant as a way of letting everyone know that he's noli me tangere." She tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Would you keep him naked? Little enough in Hell that's pleasing to look upon, and he's like an ... objet d'art, isn't he?"
Sam liked the idea so much it frightened him. "Why are we having this conversation?" he asked coldly.
Ruby shrugged delicately and pushed a lock of her impossibly perfect hair back. "Because it's been a little while since we last spoke, and because I thought you might want a glimpse of the other paths your life could have taken, still might take."
"It's gone, the demon blood. So, no."
She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You're trying to mark him as yours -- that's why you like to come on him."
Sam smiled icily at her. "You make me sound like a dog pissing on a tree."
"You humans are ruled by instinct more than you like to admit." Her laughter was bell-like ... and cold. "All those grand notions and lofty ideals, but still, at the heart of it, you're slaves to your little meat suit impulses."
"And yet, your kind hop into our little meat suits every chance you get."
Ruby twirled and laughed again. "Touché"
Sam pressed in, glowering. "You take that hot body for a roll in the sack yet?"
She pouted. "Not since Bobby put a big old fatal bullet hole in it, no. It's a little hard to explain to potential partners."
Sam laughed.
The black in her eyes took on an ominous tinge. "Be seeing you."
~oo(0)oo~
He didn't wake, though, but drifted into a sort of nightmare about Dad finding out about him and Tim and not approving, calling him "unnatural."
But he didn't care. What he felt wasn't sorrow or fear.
Not really.
It was more like an annoyance or frustration, because he had been "unnatural" almost all his life, and, as Dad's truck roared off, he still had Tim at his side.
And that's what mattered.
~oo(0)oo~
The sound of Dean showering woke Sam early the next morning. He forced his eyes open and muttered under his breath and couldn't quite stop his hips from rubbing a little against Tim as he shifted. Yeah, the heat was on, but it was still almost winter on the high plains and the room was a little chilly.
Tim woke with a sudden jerk and groan.
"Everything okay?" Sam asked.
"No," Tim grumbled, "I slept too still all damn night."
Sam shook with repressed laughter.
"Not funny."
"Um ..."
The water turned off.
Tim slowly, stiffly, rolled to face him, smiled a bit crankily, and darted in, kissing him. "Bleh. Morning mouth."
"You smell like roses, too." Sam said with a laugh, and rolled his tongue around in his mouth, trying to get the juices flowing.
"I fart baby powder, too."
Sam snorted with mirth as he rolled to lie on his back. Oh yeah. It hurt and felt good at the same time -- he'd also slept too still. Tim draped a leg over his and idly trailed a finger down to Sam's belly button and then back up. Sam could feel him, hard and seeping against his hip. The bathroom door flew open and a fully dressed Dean emerged in a cloud of steam. He looked at them for a moment, leered, and said, "I'm going out for breakfast. I'll be back in --" he glanced at his watch "10 minutes. Should be plenty of time for you two."
They flipped him the bird in unison.
"Right." He grinned for real this time. "I'll be back in an hour. I'll get you some breakfast burritos or something to go."
Dean barely got the door shut before Tim climbed on top. "So, like 55 minutes of sex and then a shower dance?"
Sam smiled back up at him. "That sounds about right. What do you have in mind?"
Tim leaned down and kissed him. "I'm ... um ... a little tender." He blushed. "So, as much as I like the idea of climbing on and going for a ride, that's going to have to wait. "
"Yeah."
"So, I was thinking that you can get me off," he picked up Sam's hand and wrapped it around his prick, starting to thrust, "And then I'll blow you and give you the magic fingers."
"Sounds great," Sam said, gripping Tim firmly and pumping to match his thrusts.
~oo(0)oo~
"Are you sure I was doing it right?" Tim asked, between bouts of scrubbing at his teeth with the brush.
Sam rinsed and spit. The sight of Tim kneeling before him, sucking his own fingers and seeing them head there had been hot, and it had felt ... interesting, not unpleasant, but .... "Look, maybe I'm just not wired the way you are."
"Or maybe I'm not doing it right because when you do, it's ... incredible," Tim said wistfully.
Sam shrugged and tapped his toothbrush dry on the sink. "Sure."
Tim opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and stayed strangely silent until Dean got back. Even as he chowed down on the food he seemed reserved, even for him. When he frowned in thought several times, Sam made a note to speak to him, and pulled him aside when Dean went to the office to settle the bill.
"What's wrong?"
Tim chewed his lip, the expression in his eyes bleak. "I was thinking that ... that now I know why girls --"
(Oh shit.)
Sam decided to play dumb. "Puts you ahead of the curve, then, doesn't it?" When the look in those hazel eyes grew stormy in response to the flippant remark, he continued, voice low, urgent, "Look, Tim, I don't think of you as less, okay? You're not ..." he had to force the words out, "my bitch or something. I think of you as more because of it -- and we'll finish this conversation sometime later when Dean's not around to overhear it and roast us about it the rest of our lives."
"Roast you about what?" Dean asked, popping some corn nuts in his mouth.
"None of your concern," Sam said.
"Mighty cruel of you to just assume the worst about me."
Tim flashed him a tight smile. "We know you too well."
Dean laughed at that. Then said, "So, what do you two think of Arizona, like Sun City or Phoenix? It's warm down there, and Bobby thinks he's got a line on some hauntings. Like some ghosts who were so senile when they died they don't realize they're dead."
Well, actually, that wasn't as farfetched as it seemed. "Sounds good," Sam said.
~oo(0)oo~
Bobby called them just outside of Santa Fe. "How'd he do against the chupacabra?"
Sam groaned. "Great, except that it wasn't a chupa. A Vamp. Kate, to be exact."
Bobby swore.
"Yeah, that's about the size and shape of it. But he did awesome. Told you he needed a field trial to start shining."
Bobby mmm'd and asked, "What now?"
"Greater Phoenix area. Dean thinks he can rustle up some ghosts and we won't have to shovel snow."
"I don't have to shovel snow these days at all." Pause. "That's what Tyra and Landry are for."
Sam laughed. "So, for reals, what's up?"
"Well," Bobby sighed, and Sam could all but see him scratch under his cap. "Tyra and Landry are still trooping hither and yon. A new issue of Discover came in and it had some little article in it about this math thing called E and something that exists in 141 dimensions, and Landry's all happy about it. And he's also working on some project to do with the Seal of Solomon and Devil's Traps and Tyra's showing a real knack for picking up ancient tongues. I keep telling them not to fix what ain't broke, but ...." Bobby's complaint had no real heat to it, but actually affection. "Tyra's also good with the customers, too. The salvage and wrecking's going pretty good now that the roads are iced up. I'm going to teach her how to use the tow hook soon.
"But," Bobby's voice turned grim. "Short of summoning a demon, I am running out of ideas, Sam. I'm still working on a few leads, but they're very slender --"
"Keep looking," Sam couldn't keep the heat out of his voice.
Bobby huffed, "I will, Sam. You know that. But ... I love you boys, you know that. But I really don't like to truck with demon kind."
"I understand. It's a last ditch thing. I know." Sam forced the despair away.
They would find something. They had to.
They would. Period.
"I'll call you in a week or so."
"Thanks, Bobby. For everything." He clicked his phone shut.
"What last ditch thing?" Dean asked.
Sam raked a hand through his hair. "What do you think?"
"Goddamn it, Sammy, I told --"
"I'm not drunk enough to listen to you two fight," Tim cut in. "And I'm broke." He held out his hand. "So, pass the flask, pony up, or shut up."
"You're a rotten bastard," Dean muttered.
"That's what it says in the dictionary next to Riggins. Time you learned what that meant."
Sam snickered.
"Don't get too cocky, Sam," Tim said. "You're not getting a pass on this, either. You can pony up or put up, too, because I am not putting up with this shit."
He smiled at Tim. "I'll 'embrace the suck', promise."
Tim leaned over the seat back and whispered in his ear, "Speaking of suck ..."
Sam laughed and pushed him back down.
----
Part Eight
Fandom: SPN-FNL
Pairing: Sam/Tim (Sam/Tim/Dean in a few places)
Rating: Adult (Here there be smut!)
Length: 50k words
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six
Author's Note: This is the cleaned up master version of a story I began writing for MiniNano back in November 2007. Sam Winchester is racing against time to save his brother Dean's life, and he's got Tim Riggins along for the ride ... and a bit more. ;)
The plan was to finish it and post it before the end of S3 of SPN and S2 FNL -- obviously that didn't happen.
Thank you to
tartysuz and ixchel55 for their swift beta.Legalese: SPN and FNL are copyright their respective copyright holders. This work is a labor of whatiffery, not a labor of lucre.
Tim didn't waste much time when he got in the room. Simply started shucking his clothes and turned around a few times. "See, no cuts." He glanced down at a spot on his ribs. "Shit. That's going to be one hell of a bruise." He looked up and the molten heat in his eyes turned Sam's mouth cottony dry.
"I guess this is where I exit, stage left," Dean muttered, his eyes flitting over to Tim several times and then just as quickly away.
Tim cocked his head, looked at Dean and then Sam, and then looked back at Dean and said, "You don't have to. You can go if you like, or stay if you like -- if Sam's good with it." He looked back at Sam and lifted an eyebrow.
(I will always be good with it, and he knows it somehow ... that's the trouble.)
"But ... you and Sam ..." Dean began, but it was weak.
Tim smiled at him. "It's fucking Sunday night in a one-horse town. You're a friend in need." Tim's gaze zeroed in on the bulge in Dean's snug jeans.
Dean lifted an eyebrow. "A friend with privileges."
"Yeah. Sometimes."
Dean nodded and started undressing.
Tim laid on the bed then rolled on to his side and looked at the both of them. After a moment of hesitation, Dean joined Tim on the bed, facing him. Sam watched, mouth suddenly gone sandy dry as they reached for each other.
"Sam?" Tim asked after a moment.
"I-I ..." Sam couldn't put the words into his mouth. "You two ... so hot ... I ...."
Tim laughed, but Dean paused, and Sam could see the doubt gathering in his eyes.
Sam took a few hesitant steps forward. He couldn't speak. He ....
Part of the reason he rarely went looking for a girl after a Hunt stemmed from the fact that it was too raw, his need. Right now he wanted to pounce on Tim and pound him through the mattress, just grab him and drill right in. Use him.
It frightened him. It always had.
And what if they saw it? Saw how massive and raging and unrefined it was? Saw the beast lurking just below the surface? Because, really, he was this close to losing it. That was the worst fear, really. Having somebody else see what he was on the inside.
On autopilot, his fingers moved, undressing himself. Sam climbed onto the bed and tucked in behind Tim, and at the first touch of heated flesh to heated flesh, need roared back, drowning out the voice of fear.
"I want you to put your leg over Dean's hip," Sam whispered in Tim's ear, as he pressed his fingers to Tim's mouth, and it was manna to his soul when Tim gave a knowing, throaty chuckle and sucked them in. He dropped a few kisses on Tim's shoulder.
Dean caught his eye, his look questioning.
"He likes this a lot, what I'm going to do. You'll see."
A truth borne out when Tim groaned a low, rumbly "Ohhhhhh Sam" as the first spit-slick finger pressed in. Sam couldn't contain his own hiss as Tim moaned and clenched around him as he slowly stroked it in and out. "So good, just like that," Tim whispered.
"Take care of Dean," Sam said back, guiding Tim's hand down, careful not to touch Dean, but it thrilled him to the core all the same to be the one closing Tim's hand around Dean's cock.
(All of Dean, none of the guilt.)
He continued to thrust his finger in and out of Tim, who stroked Dean with the same rhythm. Sam shifted up on his elbow, the better to see the expressions on their faces: Dean, eyes closed, mouth open slightly, breath panting out in little puffs; Tim, eyes cat-like slits, a dreamy smile curving his full mouth.
Dean's hand reached down, heading for Tim's cock, but Sam stayed it, causing Dean to start. "No. Just me." Sam said.
"Oh Sam, that's just not fair to the poor guy," Dean laughed and reached once more.
Sam stopped him. "No."
(Mine.)
"Whatever, man." Dean snorted. "He's your boyfriend."
Boyfriend --?
No, not ... well, yeah, actually.
Tim whimpered as Sam sped up. "Please, Sam," his whisper was papery, "I've got to -- you can't just -- I need more."
"Shh." Sam smoothed a lock of hair back from Tim's forehead and drove a second finger in. Tim's eyes screwed shut as he gasped in pleasure, his cock twitching and giving a fresh spurt of wet.
"Sogood sogood sogood, " Tim panted with each breath, body twitching, almost breaking rhythm on Dean. Sam drove in harder and deeper than he'd ever done before and Tim all but convulsed. "OhGod! Do that again!" he yelped. "Like that!" he half-chanted snapping his hips to meet Sam, when Sam found a rhythm.
Sam reached under and around and ... Tim was so hard and so ready--
"Please, please, please," Tim begged
-- Sam drove in deep one last time, crooking his fingers, and smiled when Tim cried out and arched and bucked and came in his hand.
A few moments later, Dean who had been thrusting to meet Tim's hand, groaned and shot, half in Tim's hand, half on Tim's abdomen. "What about you, Sam?" Dean said, after he stopped shaking and got his breath.
Sam didn't respond to him, just looked Tim in the eye, asking -- no, telling him what he wanted.
A long pause followed and Sam could see the struggle in Tim's eyes. Finally he swallowed hard and gave Sam a barely perceptible nod. Sam climbed off the bed and one-handedly fished Dean's wallet out of his jeans, opened it and took a condom out. "Put it on?" he asked, handing it to Tim.
He sucked in several deep breaths when Tim got it out of the package and rolled it down Sam's length. Sam kept his gaze firmly fixed on the indifferent painting of a western landscape over the bed for several heartbeats after; he didn't dare look down at Tim, it would all be over if he did. When Tim removed his hands, Sam's eyes flicked over to Dean, who wore a certain sleepy satisfaction, as if it were an everyday thing to see his younger brother naked, achingly hard, and about to fuck another guy. Part of Sam laughed inwardly at that. Dean had never seen him do more than give a few kisses to a girl, utterly acceptable public displays of affection, and here he was getting ready to .... And he didn't feel the least bit shy about it, didn't mind that Dean watched. He wanted Dean to see.
Clearing his throat he bent and whispered in Tim's ear, "I, um, hear it's easier on you if you're face down."
Tim nodded, the look in his eyes distant, closed off.
"Are you really cool with this?" Sam asked.
(Oh please don't let him change his mind. Not now.)
A long sigh. "Yeah ..." Tim rolled over.
Tim's come had cooled and gone a bit goopy in Sam's hand, but it was all he had to use, so he slicked himself with it, knelt between Tim's spread legs, gripped his hips, and pulled up a little, positioning him, and then guided himself to the entrance. He paused for a beat and then pushed slowly and firmly in. It was harder than he would have liked, the push he had to give to get in --
(So clenched, so tight, not like a woman, which gave a gentle grip from root to tip, but a tight ring of muscle around the base ... different, but good all the same.)
-- and caused Tim to shut his eyes tight and pant through clenched teeth, and reach out for Dean, taking his hand, gripping it tightly for a moment before relaxing.
"We still good? Sam asked. Because he would stop if Tim said to, but oh how he wanted this. It was doing things for him deep in his soul. Tim, mule stubborn, blue collar, raised to be a "man", Tim letting him have this, giving it to him, taking Sam deep inside. An act that was probably scarier to him in some ways than the monster they had just faced down. Sam trembled with the intensity of what it meant to him.
Tim blew out a long breath and opened his eyes. "Just ... give me a moment to adjust."
"Tell me when."
Tim took another long breath, held it a beat, and pushed it out. "Okay."
Sam gave his hips a twitch.
"Oh, Jesus, Sam ... that's ... you have no idea what it's like. No. Idea." Tim's voice grew breathy.
Sam counted to three and began with a slow, gentle stroke, watching the reactions play across what he could see of Tim's face. He switched to faster and deeper, went short and sharp, then switched back to long and slow and deep, drinking it in, the expressions of wonderment and pleasure, watched as they turned to ecstasy, made them ebb and flow, and watching it all on Tim's face added to it for Sam, Tim's pleasure becoming his pleasure, too.
And Dean's, Sam realized, when Dean, who kept his eyes firmly locked on Tim's, brought his hand up and tenderly brushed a lock of hair back from Tim's forehead. The two of them sharing something in the look between them, an understanding that Sam only caught a glimpse of -- it wasn't meant for him, wasn't about him -- but it showed him a new bit of Dean and a new bit of Tim, but he knew one thing for certain, the look that Tim had given Dean was not the same as the one he had given Sam that day in the truck. That was his and his alone and he felt thrilled to know that.
But it wasn't all pure and chaste and profound revelation. This was still sex. And Sam could see Dean coming up again, and he had an inkling that Tim had gotten hard again, too, so he shifted his weight back, tugging up on Tim's hips, Tim's slightly frustrated mutter confirming it.
"No making a wet spot on the bed," he growled.
They all laughed.
Dean had gotten fully hard again, ready to go, and Sam --
(Dear God, he wanted.)
"Blow him, Tim," he rasped. "I want to see you --" The words choked off as Tim's body shook at the idea of it, and clenched down hard around him.
Meanwhile, Dean wasted no time scrambling for the head of the bed.
The sight of his eyes rolling up behind fluttering lashes as Tim took him in was just too much for Sam, who grabbed Tim's hips and slammed home three times hard and came so hard the world turned staticky around the edges.
When his heart stopped hammering in his ears, Sam shakily pulled out and in a fog he stripped the condom from his rapidly softening dick. He paused for a moment to enjoy the sight of Tim and Dean before climbing back on the bed and making Tim lift his hips. He reached around from behind, one hand hovering at the ready as he jerked Tim mercilessly hard and fast -- the way he liked -- and Tim gave a muffled, throaty sound and spilled in his hand a split second before Dean gave a sharp, "Oh, fuck!" and pulled out of Tim's mouth, coming in long, hard spurts all over his own belly.
Dean crawled back down to face Tim who had rolled back on his side (and laughed as Sam wiped his hand clean across Tim's chest and stomach).
"All sticky," Tim mumbled sleepily and happily.
Sam crawled up behind Tim and reached and fumbled the light off, glad that they had cranked the heat upon getting into the room, because he could already feel sleep pulling him down, and suspected that they were all too physically and emotionally spent for anything else at the moment.
~oo(0)oo~
He found himself sitting in an ornate and not very comfortable chair. No ... something this massive could only be called a throne. Above him stretched a roiling, sooty looking sky, and --
"Better to reign in Hell, right?" Ruby said.
Groan. "Hello, Ruby," Sam said, trying not to grumble too much.
She stepped in front of him and gave an impish grin. "What, don't like the digs?" She gestured and continued, "In Azazel's plans --"
"Azazel's plans don't matter anymore." Sam stood and ran a hand through his hair. "So ... can we go someplace else?"
"Maybe."
Before Sam could reply, they blinked into a large hall with a huge ... mirror ... in it. Sam knew somehow that that this was still Hell, or at least the Astral Plane of Hell, but gave up arguing the point with Ruby. There might be a reason she had chosen Hell for this meeting, something that would help Dean.
Her eyes were black pools when she looked at him again. "There's a lot of power in that throne, you know."
Whatever. And a lot of headaches, too. Besides, what was he supposed to do as the King of Hell? Storm the gates of Heaven? Spend the rest of eternity watching his back more like. "I know," he replied evenly, crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow at Ruby, urging her to continue.
"This is the looking glass. Come see."
Sam found himself taken aback to see the three of them in that Colorado motel room, curled tightly together against the encroaching chill, still on top of the bedspread.
Ruby placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'd have him stand at your side, wouldn't you?" she purred. "The left hand side, of course. Dean would be your right hand man. You'd collar him, too, I think."
Sam looked over and snorted scornfully. "Not really into bondage."
"Sorry, that's not quite what I meant. I meant as a way of letting everyone know that he's noli me tangere." She tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Would you keep him naked? Little enough in Hell that's pleasing to look upon, and he's like an ... objet d'art, isn't he?"
Sam liked the idea so much it frightened him. "Why are we having this conversation?" he asked coldly.
Ruby shrugged delicately and pushed a lock of her impossibly perfect hair back. "Because it's been a little while since we last spoke, and because I thought you might want a glimpse of the other paths your life could have taken, still might take."
"It's gone, the demon blood. So, no."
She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You're trying to mark him as yours -- that's why you like to come on him."
Sam smiled icily at her. "You make me sound like a dog pissing on a tree."
"You humans are ruled by instinct more than you like to admit." Her laughter was bell-like ... and cold. "All those grand notions and lofty ideals, but still, at the heart of it, you're slaves to your little meat suit impulses."
"And yet, your kind hop into our little meat suits every chance you get."
Ruby twirled and laughed again. "Touché"
Sam pressed in, glowering. "You take that hot body for a roll in the sack yet?"
She pouted. "Not since Bobby put a big old fatal bullet hole in it, no. It's a little hard to explain to potential partners."
Sam laughed.
The black in her eyes took on an ominous tinge. "Be seeing you."
~oo(0)oo~
He didn't wake, though, but drifted into a sort of nightmare about Dad finding out about him and Tim and not approving, calling him "unnatural."
But he didn't care. What he felt wasn't sorrow or fear.
Not really.
It was more like an annoyance or frustration, because he had been "unnatural" almost all his life, and, as Dad's truck roared off, he still had Tim at his side.
And that's what mattered.
~oo(0)oo~
The sound of Dean showering woke Sam early the next morning. He forced his eyes open and muttered under his breath and couldn't quite stop his hips from rubbing a little against Tim as he shifted. Yeah, the heat was on, but it was still almost winter on the high plains and the room was a little chilly.
Tim woke with a sudden jerk and groan.
"Everything okay?" Sam asked.
"No," Tim grumbled, "I slept too still all damn night."
Sam shook with repressed laughter.
"Not funny."
"Um ..."
The water turned off.
Tim slowly, stiffly, rolled to face him, smiled a bit crankily, and darted in, kissing him. "Bleh. Morning mouth."
"You smell like roses, too." Sam said with a laugh, and rolled his tongue around in his mouth, trying to get the juices flowing.
"I fart baby powder, too."
Sam snorted with mirth as he rolled to lie on his back. Oh yeah. It hurt and felt good at the same time -- he'd also slept too still. Tim draped a leg over his and idly trailed a finger down to Sam's belly button and then back up. Sam could feel him, hard and seeping against his hip. The bathroom door flew open and a fully dressed Dean emerged in a cloud of steam. He looked at them for a moment, leered, and said, "I'm going out for breakfast. I'll be back in --" he glanced at his watch "10 minutes. Should be plenty of time for you two."
They flipped him the bird in unison.
"Right." He grinned for real this time. "I'll be back in an hour. I'll get you some breakfast burritos or something to go."
Dean barely got the door shut before Tim climbed on top. "So, like 55 minutes of sex and then a shower dance?"
Sam smiled back up at him. "That sounds about right. What do you have in mind?"
Tim leaned down and kissed him. "I'm ... um ... a little tender." He blushed. "So, as much as I like the idea of climbing on and going for a ride, that's going to have to wait. "
"Yeah."
"So, I was thinking that you can get me off," he picked up Sam's hand and wrapped it around his prick, starting to thrust, "And then I'll blow you and give you the magic fingers."
"Sounds great," Sam said, gripping Tim firmly and pumping to match his thrusts.
~oo(0)oo~
"Are you sure I was doing it right?" Tim asked, between bouts of scrubbing at his teeth with the brush.
Sam rinsed and spit. The sight of Tim kneeling before him, sucking his own fingers and seeing them head there had been hot, and it had felt ... interesting, not unpleasant, but .... "Look, maybe I'm just not wired the way you are."
"Or maybe I'm not doing it right because when you do, it's ... incredible," Tim said wistfully.
Sam shrugged and tapped his toothbrush dry on the sink. "Sure."
Tim opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and stayed strangely silent until Dean got back. Even as he chowed down on the food he seemed reserved, even for him. When he frowned in thought several times, Sam made a note to speak to him, and pulled him aside when Dean went to the office to settle the bill.
"What's wrong?"
Tim chewed his lip, the expression in his eyes bleak. "I was thinking that ... that now I know why girls --"
(Oh shit.)
Sam decided to play dumb. "Puts you ahead of the curve, then, doesn't it?" When the look in those hazel eyes grew stormy in response to the flippant remark, he continued, voice low, urgent, "Look, Tim, I don't think of you as less, okay? You're not ..." he had to force the words out, "my bitch or something. I think of you as more because of it -- and we'll finish this conversation sometime later when Dean's not around to overhear it and roast us about it the rest of our lives."
"Roast you about what?" Dean asked, popping some corn nuts in his mouth.
"None of your concern," Sam said.
"Mighty cruel of you to just assume the worst about me."
Tim flashed him a tight smile. "We know you too well."
Dean laughed at that. Then said, "So, what do you two think of Arizona, like Sun City or Phoenix? It's warm down there, and Bobby thinks he's got a line on some hauntings. Like some ghosts who were so senile when they died they don't realize they're dead."
Well, actually, that wasn't as farfetched as it seemed. "Sounds good," Sam said.
~oo(0)oo~
Bobby called them just outside of Santa Fe. "How'd he do against the chupacabra?"
Sam groaned. "Great, except that it wasn't a chupa. A Vamp. Kate, to be exact."
Bobby swore.
"Yeah, that's about the size and shape of it. But he did awesome. Told you he needed a field trial to start shining."
Bobby mmm'd and asked, "What now?"
"Greater Phoenix area. Dean thinks he can rustle up some ghosts and we won't have to shovel snow."
"I don't have to shovel snow these days at all." Pause. "That's what Tyra and Landry are for."
Sam laughed. "So, for reals, what's up?"
"Well," Bobby sighed, and Sam could all but see him scratch under his cap. "Tyra and Landry are still trooping hither and yon. A new issue of Discover came in and it had some little article in it about this math thing called E and something that exists in 141 dimensions, and Landry's all happy about it. And he's also working on some project to do with the Seal of Solomon and Devil's Traps and Tyra's showing a real knack for picking up ancient tongues. I keep telling them not to fix what ain't broke, but ...." Bobby's complaint had no real heat to it, but actually affection. "Tyra's also good with the customers, too. The salvage and wrecking's going pretty good now that the roads are iced up. I'm going to teach her how to use the tow hook soon.
"But," Bobby's voice turned grim. "Short of summoning a demon, I am running out of ideas, Sam. I'm still working on a few leads, but they're very slender --"
"Keep looking," Sam couldn't keep the heat out of his voice.
Bobby huffed, "I will, Sam. You know that. But ... I love you boys, you know that. But I really don't like to truck with demon kind."
"I understand. It's a last ditch thing. I know." Sam forced the despair away.
They would find something. They had to.
They would. Period.
"I'll call you in a week or so."
"Thanks, Bobby. For everything." He clicked his phone shut.
"What last ditch thing?" Dean asked.
Sam raked a hand through his hair. "What do you think?"
"Goddamn it, Sammy, I told --"
"I'm not drunk enough to listen to you two fight," Tim cut in. "And I'm broke." He held out his hand. "So, pass the flask, pony up, or shut up."
"You're a rotten bastard," Dean muttered.
"That's what it says in the dictionary next to Riggins. Time you learned what that meant."
Sam snickered.
"Don't get too cocky, Sam," Tim said. "You're not getting a pass on this, either. You can pony up or put up, too, because I am not putting up with this shit."
He smiled at Tim. "I'll 'embrace the suck', promise."
Tim leaned over the seat back and whispered in his ear, "Speaking of suck ..."
Sam laughed and pushed him back down.
----
Part Eight
(Anonymous)
-khemlab