Introductio in Analysin ... (FNL-SPN) 10/12
Title: Introductio in Analysin Daemonium Infinitorum pt 10
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, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine
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.
They clipped the Texas panhandle -- neither Sam nor Dean saw any point in driving all the way up to Colorado before heading east -- and while Tim played cool on the outside, Sam could tell that he sweated bullets on the inside. Dean humored the both of them, keeping the needle pegged just a hair above the speed limit until they hit Oklahoma.
The next day they stopped in at a public library in Stillwater so that Sam could get access to the backfiles of the Atlanta Journal Constitution and see if he could find any further clues there. He and Dean were in the middle of following up on a story that the AJC considered a case of identity theft when Tim softly cleared his throat.
"Guys ... can I ask a favor?" He held up flier.
"I don't know, can you?" Dean weisenheimered, causing Tim to piff at him.
Tim rarely asked either of them for anything, and the hesitancy of his tone made it clear to Sam that he was about to ask for something big. "What is it?" Sam asked.
Tim handed him the flier. "Can we go to this?"
"Murderball?" Dean said as he glanced over. "Sounds interesting." He looked at Sam and shrugged.
Sam looked at Tim for a long moment. "What's up?"
Tim took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and stopped twice before he finally forced the words out, "I know a guy who plays for this team, a friend from Dillon. I ... kind of want to see him again." His voice sounded casual, but the look in his eyes was not.
"C'mon, what's a day, Sammy?" Dean clapped him on the back. "With a name like murderball, how could this be bad?"
But what aren't you telling me, Tim? Sam wondered. With a smile that he knew didn't reach his eyes, Sam replied, "Sure. Sounds like fun."
~oo(0)oo~
As soon as he got a moment away from the two of them, Sam dialed Bobby's number. "Is Landry or Tyra in? I've got a question to ask them," he said the instant the phone picked up.
"And a good afternoon to you, too, Sam," came Bobby's tart reply.
Sigh. "Sorry, Bobby. It's just -- I've got a question about Tim."
"Here's Tyra."
"Hi Sam, what's up?" Pause. And then in a lower voice. "Bobby says you sound a little freaked. And that it's about Tim. What's wrong?"
"Who does Tim know that does wheelchair sports?"
"Jason. Wait. Are you all in Texas?!"
"No."
"Okay. So, what's Jason got to do with --"
"There's some wheelchair thing going on at the local Y tonight. Tim asked to go. Said he knew a guy on the team."
Tyra hmmmnd and Sam could all but see the sad smile on her face. "Well, it could be Herc, but I don't know .... It's got to be Jason. I don't think he'd ask if it wasn't, or if he didn't think Jason would be there."
Jason Street. The best friend who broke his neck.
Tyra's voice interrupted Sam's musing. "If it is Jason, if you get a chance, tell him I say hi."
"Will do," Sam said woodenly and hung up.
Jason Street, Tim's best friend.
Sam had never had a best friend, not really. They never lived any place long enough for him to get to know anybody in more than a casual way.
He had only had Dad and Dean.
And then Jess ... but that was different. She was a lover and a friend. Same with Tim.
Something twisted in him at the idea of meeting this Jason Street. It took him awhile to label it.
Jealousy. (Worry.)
~oo(0)oo~
"Dude, it's like a demolition derby, only with wheelchairs!" Dean said excitedly in Sam's left ear as he all but bounced in his seat with glee.
"Yeah, it is that," Sam agreed as next to him, on the right, Tim alternated between bouncing in his seat, cheering the Texas team on, explaining the rules, wringing his hands, and chewing his lip with such intensity that Sam expected to see blood. Tim jumped up from the seat and almost ran to the floor when a particularly hard slam knocked his friend Jason over.
Sam laid a hand on Tim's knee. "Relax. We don't want to blow it."
Tim nodded and wrung his hands. Again.
~oo(0)oo~
As soon as the final buzzer sounded, Tim shot out of his seat and ran down the bleachers, shouting, "Hey, Six!"
Jason turned, and Sam, following hard on Tim's heels, got his first good look at him. Startlement turned into shock and then into an ear-to-ear grin blossoming across Jason's all-American good looks. "Tim?!" He raced towards them.
Dean's hand clamping down on his shoulder stopped Sam. "Let's give them a little space."
But the two of them edged closer when Tim knelt before Jason and took Jason's hands -- hands Sam could see were permanently contorted into clubbed fists -- into his and gently stroked his thumbs across the back as they spoke in hushed, urgent voices.
Seething internally, Sam played it cool and stepped just into hearing range in time to hear Tim say, "No, it's cool. I've got people looking out for me. Friends." Tim looked over his shoulder and smiled at Sam, that smile that never failed to warm his heart.
Jason smiled at him and Dean and said, "Well, that's good to hear."
Sam heard Tim draw a shaky breath, but before he could speak, a voice called out from across the court, "We ain't got all night, Sparky!"
Sam edged around to the side as Jason yelled back, "In a minute, Herc!"
Tim visibly collected himself. "So, you and Herc, still the dynamic duo?" he said softly.
Jason laughed at that. "Yeah. I guess."
A painfully long silence followed.
"So ... I guess I'd better roll," Jason finally said. "Don't be a stranger, Tim."
Tim's face crumpled as he shook his head. "I won't," he choked out.
"Tim ...."
"I miss you, Six. I miss us."
Jason sighed and ruffled Tim's hair. "I miss us, too, Riggs." He looked up at Sam and Dean, his gaze clear and direct. "Take care of him."
"We will." Dean said, jamming his hands down into his pockets and shifting.
Jason nodded at them, then leaned forward, hooking a hand around the back of Tim's head, drew him in, and whispered something in his ear. When he sat back again, Tim looked up with tear-wet eyes and nodded stoically. Jason wheeled away, paused in the doorway and waved before he disappeared.
Tim's misery was palpable as he followed them out to the car.
As soon as Dean got it in gear, Tim tapped him on the shoulder and held out his hand. Wordlessly Dean passed him the flask and Tim gulped it dry before handing it back. "It's a good thing you killed that demon who grants wishes at the crossroads," he said, his voice raw with whiskey and emotion. "Because if you hadn't, there's not a force in the world that could stop me right now." He slumped back in his seat and buried his face in his hands.
Sam drew a breath and tried to think of what to say. A look from Dean and an almost imperceptible shake of his head stopped Sam. Instead, he reached over and softly, silently stroked Tim's hair.
He wanted more than anything to tell Tim that it would be alright.
But no.
Some things would never be right, and they both knew it.
~oo(0)oo~
Tim pounced Sam as soon as they got back to the hotel room, slamming him into the wall next to the door. He followed with a bruising kiss.
"I need you to fuck me," Tim hissed, low and urgent. "I need you -- and Dean -- to fuck me so hard I can't even remember my own name."
When Sam didn't respond fast enough, Tim ripped Sam's shirt in his haste to get it off of him.
Startled at this side of Tim -- a rage and need forged from emptiness, heretofore glimpsed but never seen full on -- Sam glanced over at Dean to see what he made of this sudden change in the normally easy-going, almost passive Tim.
Dean stood open mouthed, eyes slightly glazed, transfixed. And then, his eyes looking at them -- not meeting, not seeing Sam's gaze -- Dean's hands dropped to the hem of his shirt.
"Need this, Sam," Tim whispered, almost chanting, snapping Sam's attention back. "You have to give this to me. I don't ask for much from you." He sucked at Sam's neck, " ... owe me."
It slammed into him. Shock replaced by lust. Sam ripped at the snaps at the front of Tim's shirt and kissed him savagely, making Tim gasp and moan. "Yeah, Timmy," Sam rasped when they broke for air. "For you? Anything."
Yes. For Tim.
Need and want and hurt all bound up in one Gordian Knot? Yeah. Sam got that.
Roughly, he marched Tim back towards the bed, towards the half-naked Dean. And for a split second, their eyes met, and yeah, Dean got it, too.
Because, it was either do this -- use Tim (the darker places inside of Sam burbled with glee at the thought. They had wanted this, or something very much like it, for awhile now) -- or hit a liquor store. But there wasn't enough booze in the world to fill the empty place inside of Tim.
Or himself.
Or Dean.
And all things considered, Sam would rather fuck the pain away -- or try to fuck the pain away -- although that had always been more of Dean's sort of thing. But now, doing it, and sharing it with Dean? Sam wanted it. He saw the same thing in the depths of Dean's eyes, and it caused him to screw his own eyes shut and shiver as that realization coiled through him.
~oo(0)oo~
Sam didn't bother to undress himself further. Just unzipped, pushed down, slicked his hard and seeping cock with an extra measure of spit, positioned Tim face down, and, after a couple of bad thrusts (and an awful moan from Tim) finally got himself all the way in. He set a steady pace, Tim's gritted out oh oh ohs driving him on.
But Sam had no plans to make this a quick fuck. He needed Tim to know, needed for Tim to feel this for days after. He slowed the pace down, rolling his hips slow and long and deep, finishing each stroke with a hard snap, Tim's ohs drawing out into ohhhhhhhs.
Glancing over at Dean, who watched them mesmerized, Sam took his hand off of Tim's hip and crooked a finger in invitation. Slowly, almost as if he were sleepwalking, Dean rose and, shedding clothes on the way, climbed on to the bed. Tim reached for him, already in the act of bending down to do what he normally did when the three of them joined like this -- blow Dean. Dean stopped him and instead leaned into Tim, kissing and sucking on his neck and collar bones, making Tim writhe and jerk and laugh and swear as Dean nipped at him, leaving a mark.
(Dean ... so close. Right there. Sam could smell him. Almost taste him. Almost have him.)
"Oh God yes, Dean ..." Tim gasped as Dean's mouth drifted down, lips and tongue working at Tim's nipples and Sam made a note to ask about how Tim would feel about having a piercing as Tim's hands cupped Dean's head, holding it right there, not letting him move.
That gave Sam pause, made him stop, break rhythm. He made his next thrusts short and sharp, followed by slow and deep, Tim's voice hitching as he croaked out, "Oh, Sam!" Continuing the same alternation of strokes, Sam bent his head and in turn went to work on Tim's neck and shoulders, nipping, then soothing it with his tongue, feather kisses were followed by hard sucks. When Tim finally let Dean start working his head lower, Sam reached around and tweaked and stroked and teased at Tim's tender nipples, Tim begging all the while for please more, as Dean inched his way down, Tim's entire body giving the most exquisite flutter-ripples as Dean trailed a series of hot little nips along the blades of Tim's hips.
Then came the moment Sam had been waiting for since he had had an inkling of where Dean might take this -- Dean took Tim into his mouth.
Tim cried out as wet heat enclosed him, bucking, twisting.
Sam slammed home, zero to sixty in his pace, pounding in as hard and fast as he could, fucking Tim into Dean, throwing all restraint to the winds, letting the darkness and the animal need in him take over, breaking the unspoken "no touch" rule as he snaked his hand into Dean's hair, holding his head in position as Tim clenched tightly and cried out and came, sending Sam over the edge and it felt as if it were flowing out of him, through Tim and into Dean, who choked and sputtered on what Tim gave him.
When the last jolts faded, Sam slid out, pushing Tim forward, on to Dean, and staggered, jelly legged to the chair, stripping off his clothes and watching as Tim, still unsated though he'd come as hard as Sam had ever seen, climb onto Dean and sink down, riding him, head thrown back, hair flying, mouth open and panting, while Dean bucked up, pushing back.
Slowly, exquisitely, it coiled again in Sam, started rising again. He trembled like a leaf as he drank in the sheer scope of Tim's wild and untamed abandonment, crying out again when Dean flexed up hard, jaw clenched, teeth bared, hands knotted in the sheets, coming.
Tim had gotten completely hard again towards the end, and Sam was reloaded and ready to go as soon as Tim somewhat shakily climbed off of Dean's spent body. He flipped Tim on his back, hooking Tim's legs over his shoulders, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth as he pressed in --
(because that's Dean in there now, too, making it slick)
-- sucking in ragged breaths as he fought the urge to come right now, because he couldn't stop yet. He has got to give Tim what Tim needs, has got to drive Tim over the edge and beyond.
Sam wanted to make it last, wanted to take Tim there as slowly and relentlessly as a glacier grinds down a mountain, but Tim wouldn't let him. Tim flexed back, demanding that Sam set a fast, hard pace, and they both angled so that Sam nailed him with every stroke, and Dean reached over and gently caressed the two of them, stroking Tim's thighs and Sam's biceps, the simple touch causing corkscrews to dance up Sam's spine, and finally Tim's eyes rolled back in his head as he came -- three hot jets across his stomach -- and the world exploded into technicolor static behind Sam's eyes at the sight of it.
He felt his legs start to buckle and he rolled to the side, Tim nearly insensate, sandwiched between him and Dean, who half-rolled, flailed about, and somehow got the lamp turned off without knocking it to the floor.
Sleep crashed over the three of them within moments.
~oo(0)oo~
"He looks like a debauched angel."
"Hello, Ruby," Sam said bitterly.
She snorted mirthfully. "What? It's what you've wanted from him all along, right?" She flashed him a smile that for once, reached her eyes.
Sam said nothing, just looked over and down at his sleeping form, arm flung possessively over Tim. A dull glint of light from the silver torc around Tim's neck drew his gaze and held it.
He hated to admit it, but Ruby was right.
Sleep eased the guardedness away from Tim's face, washed away the sharpness, the brittle hardness, left something very pure and open in its place.
Quite the contrast to the hickeys, scratches, bite marks and bruises -- visible even in the dim light -- that mottled Tim's flesh.
Parts of Sam tingled and thrilled at seeing Tim look so used.
But other parts of Sam remembered the ticking clock, the frustration of false leads and false hopes, the pointlessness of Ruby's games ... played to further her own agenda, whatever that was, or maybe (even worse) played just because she could.
Time to turn the tables.
"Yeah, he is a sight," Sam said, a note a smug satisfaction in his voice as he turned back to Ruby.
She smiled back. "That's the spirit."
Without warning, Sam shot his arm out, seized Ruby's arm, and yanked her hard to him. His other hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled back, twisting, exposing.
He bit down hard.
Stunned by the assault, Ruby actually froze for a moment before pushing Sam away and dealing a stinging blow.
Didn't matter. Sam had what he had come for.
Rich and coppery, the taste of Ruby's blood filled his mouth. He swallowed.
"Oh Sam ... Sammy ... that's not going to work quite the way you expected it to." Emotion colored Ruby's tone. Sam couldn't quite place it. In a human he would have called it regret, but Ruby wasn't human, she was a demon, and demons lied and played games with you and kept you from what you really needed to do to save your brother's life. Sam saw it clearly now.
"Goodbye, Ruby." He jumped for his body, jolting awake so sharply that it roused both Tim and Dean to sleepy mutterings.
Compulsively, Sam swallowed, tasting ... nothing.
~oo(0)oo~
Morning went about as well as it could, all things considered.
They all stank like hell.
Tim couldn't move without wincing, and just swinging his legs to sit up put a hitch in his breath.
Dean wouldn't look him in the eye. "You're trying to take me places I can't -- I won't go, Sammy," he whispered when Tim tippy-toed away from them and into the bathroom.
Sam bit back on replying that it took two to tango and that Dean had willingly -- very willingly -- participated last night. Also, considering that Dean was hellbound at the moment? Worrying about sin seemed pretty silly. In for a penny, in for a pound.
(The world was falling apart, and a fight with Dean wouldn't accomplish a damn thing.)
Tim, fresh out of the bathroom, and always quick to pick up on a shift in Sam's mood, came to the rescue. "Sam," he croaked, shuffling over, "I think I might need some help taking a shower."
~oo(0)oo~
"No wonder Bobby thought you were an incubus," Sam joked after they both got into the bathtub and pulled the curtain, because, in spite of what had happened last night, and the fact that he was sore and marked up all over, that part of Tim was up and raring to go.
"Get used to it," he said over the roar of the water when they broke for air. "Phoenix spoiled me. I got used to having you every morning. It's good to be back in action, and on the road again, but I kind of do miss having our own room."
Yeah, Sam kind of missed it, too. He kissed Tim slow and gentle by way of reply, then soaped him up, fingers touching as tenderly as possible, jerking almost as much as Tim did at some of the damage he and Dean had inflicted. Damn. He'd find a way to make this up to Tim. "Turn around," he said, and, cradling Tim against him with one arm, he reached a soapy hand down and around and slowly, leisurely -- savoring every sound, every shudder -- stroked Tim to completion, holding him up when the post-orgasm Jello legs hit.
By then the water had started turning cold, and as Tim tried to return the favor, Sam kissed him tenderly on each shoulder then shushed him with a peck on the forehead. "I can wait, Tim."
Tim blushed and ducked his head, his hair flopping in front of his eyes. When he looked up again, Sam could see something in their amber depths, burning to come out.
Tim sucked in a huge breath, sputtered, and started over. "So, me and Jay? You -- you're not instead of Jay. Never instead. Ever." Tim trembled underneath his hands. "I just --"
"I know," Sam replied, brushing Tim's hair back and cupping his jaw. "I know."
Tim drew in a long breath, held it, let it out. "Dean's going to be pissed at us -- using up all the hot water."
Sam smiled. "We've got him outnumbered."
Tim nodded once and smiled back. "Yeah. Outnumbered."
~oo(0)oo~
Dean swore at them about the lack of hot water, but before long they were in the Impala, heading towards the greater Atlanta area, in search of Sam's last, best hope for a demon.
----
Part Eleven
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, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine
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.
They clipped the Texas panhandle -- neither Sam nor Dean saw any point in driving all the way up to Colorado before heading east -- and while Tim played cool on the outside, Sam could tell that he sweated bullets on the inside. Dean humored the both of them, keeping the needle pegged just a hair above the speed limit until they hit Oklahoma.
The next day they stopped in at a public library in Stillwater so that Sam could get access to the backfiles of the Atlanta Journal Constitution and see if he could find any further clues there. He and Dean were in the middle of following up on a story that the AJC considered a case of identity theft when Tim softly cleared his throat.
"Guys ... can I ask a favor?" He held up flier.
"I don't know, can you?" Dean weisenheimered, causing Tim to piff at him.
Tim rarely asked either of them for anything, and the hesitancy of his tone made it clear to Sam that he was about to ask for something big. "What is it?" Sam asked.
Tim handed him the flier. "Can we go to this?"
"Murderball?" Dean said as he glanced over. "Sounds interesting." He looked at Sam and shrugged.
Sam looked at Tim for a long moment. "What's up?"
Tim took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and stopped twice before he finally forced the words out, "I know a guy who plays for this team, a friend from Dillon. I ... kind of want to see him again." His voice sounded casual, but the look in his eyes was not.
"C'mon, what's a day, Sammy?" Dean clapped him on the back. "With a name like murderball, how could this be bad?"
But what aren't you telling me, Tim? Sam wondered. With a smile that he knew didn't reach his eyes, Sam replied, "Sure. Sounds like fun."
~oo(0)oo~
As soon as he got a moment away from the two of them, Sam dialed Bobby's number. "Is Landry or Tyra in? I've got a question to ask them," he said the instant the phone picked up.
"And a good afternoon to you, too, Sam," came Bobby's tart reply.
Sigh. "Sorry, Bobby. It's just -- I've got a question about Tim."
"Here's Tyra."
"Hi Sam, what's up?" Pause. And then in a lower voice. "Bobby says you sound a little freaked. And that it's about Tim. What's wrong?"
"Who does Tim know that does wheelchair sports?"
"Jason. Wait. Are you all in Texas?!"
"No."
"Okay. So, what's Jason got to do with --"
"There's some wheelchair thing going on at the local Y tonight. Tim asked to go. Said he knew a guy on the team."
Tyra hmmmnd and Sam could all but see the sad smile on her face. "Well, it could be Herc, but I don't know .... It's got to be Jason. I don't think he'd ask if it wasn't, or if he didn't think Jason would be there."
Jason Street. The best friend who broke his neck.
Tyra's voice interrupted Sam's musing. "If it is Jason, if you get a chance, tell him I say hi."
"Will do," Sam said woodenly and hung up.
Jason Street, Tim's best friend.
Sam had never had a best friend, not really. They never lived any place long enough for him to get to know anybody in more than a casual way.
He had only had Dad and Dean.
And then Jess ... but that was different. She was a lover and a friend. Same with Tim.
Something twisted in him at the idea of meeting this Jason Street. It took him awhile to label it.
Jealousy. (Worry.)
~oo(0)oo~
"Dude, it's like a demolition derby, only with wheelchairs!" Dean said excitedly in Sam's left ear as he all but bounced in his seat with glee.
"Yeah, it is that," Sam agreed as next to him, on the right, Tim alternated between bouncing in his seat, cheering the Texas team on, explaining the rules, wringing his hands, and chewing his lip with such intensity that Sam expected to see blood. Tim jumped up from the seat and almost ran to the floor when a particularly hard slam knocked his friend Jason over.
Sam laid a hand on Tim's knee. "Relax. We don't want to blow it."
Tim nodded and wrung his hands. Again.
~oo(0)oo~
As soon as the final buzzer sounded, Tim shot out of his seat and ran down the bleachers, shouting, "Hey, Six!"
Jason turned, and Sam, following hard on Tim's heels, got his first good look at him. Startlement turned into shock and then into an ear-to-ear grin blossoming across Jason's all-American good looks. "Tim?!" He raced towards them.
Dean's hand clamping down on his shoulder stopped Sam. "Let's give them a little space."
But the two of them edged closer when Tim knelt before Jason and took Jason's hands -- hands Sam could see were permanently contorted into clubbed fists -- into his and gently stroked his thumbs across the back as they spoke in hushed, urgent voices.
Seething internally, Sam played it cool and stepped just into hearing range in time to hear Tim say, "No, it's cool. I've got people looking out for me. Friends." Tim looked over his shoulder and smiled at Sam, that smile that never failed to warm his heart.
Jason smiled at him and Dean and said, "Well, that's good to hear."
Sam heard Tim draw a shaky breath, but before he could speak, a voice called out from across the court, "We ain't got all night, Sparky!"
Sam edged around to the side as Jason yelled back, "In a minute, Herc!"
Tim visibly collected himself. "So, you and Herc, still the dynamic duo?" he said softly.
Jason laughed at that. "Yeah. I guess."
A painfully long silence followed.
"So ... I guess I'd better roll," Jason finally said. "Don't be a stranger, Tim."
Tim's face crumpled as he shook his head. "I won't," he choked out.
"Tim ...."
"I miss you, Six. I miss us."
Jason sighed and ruffled Tim's hair. "I miss us, too, Riggs." He looked up at Sam and Dean, his gaze clear and direct. "Take care of him."
"We will." Dean said, jamming his hands down into his pockets and shifting.
Jason nodded at them, then leaned forward, hooking a hand around the back of Tim's head, drew him in, and whispered something in his ear. When he sat back again, Tim looked up with tear-wet eyes and nodded stoically. Jason wheeled away, paused in the doorway and waved before he disappeared.
Tim's misery was palpable as he followed them out to the car.
As soon as Dean got it in gear, Tim tapped him on the shoulder and held out his hand. Wordlessly Dean passed him the flask and Tim gulped it dry before handing it back. "It's a good thing you killed that demon who grants wishes at the crossroads," he said, his voice raw with whiskey and emotion. "Because if you hadn't, there's not a force in the world that could stop me right now." He slumped back in his seat and buried his face in his hands.
Sam drew a breath and tried to think of what to say. A look from Dean and an almost imperceptible shake of his head stopped Sam. Instead, he reached over and softly, silently stroked Tim's hair.
He wanted more than anything to tell Tim that it would be alright.
But no.
Some things would never be right, and they both knew it.
~oo(0)oo~
Tim pounced Sam as soon as they got back to the hotel room, slamming him into the wall next to the door. He followed with a bruising kiss.
"I need you to fuck me," Tim hissed, low and urgent. "I need you -- and Dean -- to fuck me so hard I can't even remember my own name."
When Sam didn't respond fast enough, Tim ripped Sam's shirt in his haste to get it off of him.
Startled at this side of Tim -- a rage and need forged from emptiness, heretofore glimpsed but never seen full on -- Sam glanced over at Dean to see what he made of this sudden change in the normally easy-going, almost passive Tim.
Dean stood open mouthed, eyes slightly glazed, transfixed. And then, his eyes looking at them -- not meeting, not seeing Sam's gaze -- Dean's hands dropped to the hem of his shirt.
"Need this, Sam," Tim whispered, almost chanting, snapping Sam's attention back. "You have to give this to me. I don't ask for much from you." He sucked at Sam's neck, " ... owe me."
It slammed into him. Shock replaced by lust. Sam ripped at the snaps at the front of Tim's shirt and kissed him savagely, making Tim gasp and moan. "Yeah, Timmy," Sam rasped when they broke for air. "For you? Anything."
Yes. For Tim.
Need and want and hurt all bound up in one Gordian Knot? Yeah. Sam got that.
Roughly, he marched Tim back towards the bed, towards the half-naked Dean. And for a split second, their eyes met, and yeah, Dean got it, too.
Because, it was either do this -- use Tim (the darker places inside of Sam burbled with glee at the thought. They had wanted this, or something very much like it, for awhile now) -- or hit a liquor store. But there wasn't enough booze in the world to fill the empty place inside of Tim.
Or himself.
Or Dean.
And all things considered, Sam would rather fuck the pain away -- or try to fuck the pain away -- although that had always been more of Dean's sort of thing. But now, doing it, and sharing it with Dean? Sam wanted it. He saw the same thing in the depths of Dean's eyes, and it caused him to screw his own eyes shut and shiver as that realization coiled through him.
~oo(0)oo~
Sam didn't bother to undress himself further. Just unzipped, pushed down, slicked his hard and seeping cock with an extra measure of spit, positioned Tim face down, and, after a couple of bad thrusts (and an awful moan from Tim) finally got himself all the way in. He set a steady pace, Tim's gritted out oh oh ohs driving him on.
But Sam had no plans to make this a quick fuck. He needed Tim to know, needed for Tim to feel this for days after. He slowed the pace down, rolling his hips slow and long and deep, finishing each stroke with a hard snap, Tim's ohs drawing out into ohhhhhhhs.
Glancing over at Dean, who watched them mesmerized, Sam took his hand off of Tim's hip and crooked a finger in invitation. Slowly, almost as if he were sleepwalking, Dean rose and, shedding clothes on the way, climbed on to the bed. Tim reached for him, already in the act of bending down to do what he normally did when the three of them joined like this -- blow Dean. Dean stopped him and instead leaned into Tim, kissing and sucking on his neck and collar bones, making Tim writhe and jerk and laugh and swear as Dean nipped at him, leaving a mark.
(Dean ... so close. Right there. Sam could smell him. Almost taste him. Almost have him.)
"Oh God yes, Dean ..." Tim gasped as Dean's mouth drifted down, lips and tongue working at Tim's nipples and Sam made a note to ask about how Tim would feel about having a piercing as Tim's hands cupped Dean's head, holding it right there, not letting him move.
That gave Sam pause, made him stop, break rhythm. He made his next thrusts short and sharp, followed by slow and deep, Tim's voice hitching as he croaked out, "Oh, Sam!" Continuing the same alternation of strokes, Sam bent his head and in turn went to work on Tim's neck and shoulders, nipping, then soothing it with his tongue, feather kisses were followed by hard sucks. When Tim finally let Dean start working his head lower, Sam reached around and tweaked and stroked and teased at Tim's tender nipples, Tim begging all the while for please more, as Dean inched his way down, Tim's entire body giving the most exquisite flutter-ripples as Dean trailed a series of hot little nips along the blades of Tim's hips.
Then came the moment Sam had been waiting for since he had had an inkling of where Dean might take this -- Dean took Tim into his mouth.
Tim cried out as wet heat enclosed him, bucking, twisting.
Sam slammed home, zero to sixty in his pace, pounding in as hard and fast as he could, fucking Tim into Dean, throwing all restraint to the winds, letting the darkness and the animal need in him take over, breaking the unspoken "no touch" rule as he snaked his hand into Dean's hair, holding his head in position as Tim clenched tightly and cried out and came, sending Sam over the edge and it felt as if it were flowing out of him, through Tim and into Dean, who choked and sputtered on what Tim gave him.
When the last jolts faded, Sam slid out, pushing Tim forward, on to Dean, and staggered, jelly legged to the chair, stripping off his clothes and watching as Tim, still unsated though he'd come as hard as Sam had ever seen, climb onto Dean and sink down, riding him, head thrown back, hair flying, mouth open and panting, while Dean bucked up, pushing back.
Slowly, exquisitely, it coiled again in Sam, started rising again. He trembled like a leaf as he drank in the sheer scope of Tim's wild and untamed abandonment, crying out again when Dean flexed up hard, jaw clenched, teeth bared, hands knotted in the sheets, coming.
Tim had gotten completely hard again towards the end, and Sam was reloaded and ready to go as soon as Tim somewhat shakily climbed off of Dean's spent body. He flipped Tim on his back, hooking Tim's legs over his shoulders, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth as he pressed in --
(because that's Dean in there now, too, making it slick)
-- sucking in ragged breaths as he fought the urge to come right now, because he couldn't stop yet. He has got to give Tim what Tim needs, has got to drive Tim over the edge and beyond.
Sam wanted to make it last, wanted to take Tim there as slowly and relentlessly as a glacier grinds down a mountain, but Tim wouldn't let him. Tim flexed back, demanding that Sam set a fast, hard pace, and they both angled so that Sam nailed him with every stroke, and Dean reached over and gently caressed the two of them, stroking Tim's thighs and Sam's biceps, the simple touch causing corkscrews to dance up Sam's spine, and finally Tim's eyes rolled back in his head as he came -- three hot jets across his stomach -- and the world exploded into technicolor static behind Sam's eyes at the sight of it.
He felt his legs start to buckle and he rolled to the side, Tim nearly insensate, sandwiched between him and Dean, who half-rolled, flailed about, and somehow got the lamp turned off without knocking it to the floor.
Sleep crashed over the three of them within moments.
~oo(0)oo~
"He looks like a debauched angel."
"Hello, Ruby," Sam said bitterly.
She snorted mirthfully. "What? It's what you've wanted from him all along, right?" She flashed him a smile that for once, reached her eyes.
Sam said nothing, just looked over and down at his sleeping form, arm flung possessively over Tim. A dull glint of light from the silver torc around Tim's neck drew his gaze and held it.
He hated to admit it, but Ruby was right.
Sleep eased the guardedness away from Tim's face, washed away the sharpness, the brittle hardness, left something very pure and open in its place.
Quite the contrast to the hickeys, scratches, bite marks and bruises -- visible even in the dim light -- that mottled Tim's flesh.
Parts of Sam tingled and thrilled at seeing Tim look so used.
But other parts of Sam remembered the ticking clock, the frustration of false leads and false hopes, the pointlessness of Ruby's games ... played to further her own agenda, whatever that was, or maybe (even worse) played just because she could.
Time to turn the tables.
"Yeah, he is a sight," Sam said, a note a smug satisfaction in his voice as he turned back to Ruby.
She smiled back. "That's the spirit."
Without warning, Sam shot his arm out, seized Ruby's arm, and yanked her hard to him. His other hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled back, twisting, exposing.
He bit down hard.
Stunned by the assault, Ruby actually froze for a moment before pushing Sam away and dealing a stinging blow.
Didn't matter. Sam had what he had come for.
Rich and coppery, the taste of Ruby's blood filled his mouth. He swallowed.
"Oh Sam ... Sammy ... that's not going to work quite the way you expected it to." Emotion colored Ruby's tone. Sam couldn't quite place it. In a human he would have called it regret, but Ruby wasn't human, she was a demon, and demons lied and played games with you and kept you from what you really needed to do to save your brother's life. Sam saw it clearly now.
"Goodbye, Ruby." He jumped for his body, jolting awake so sharply that it roused both Tim and Dean to sleepy mutterings.
Compulsively, Sam swallowed, tasting ... nothing.
~oo(0)oo~
Morning went about as well as it could, all things considered.
They all stank like hell.
Tim couldn't move without wincing, and just swinging his legs to sit up put a hitch in his breath.
Dean wouldn't look him in the eye. "You're trying to take me places I can't -- I won't go, Sammy," he whispered when Tim tippy-toed away from them and into the bathroom.
Sam bit back on replying that it took two to tango and that Dean had willingly -- very willingly -- participated last night. Also, considering that Dean was hellbound at the moment? Worrying about sin seemed pretty silly. In for a penny, in for a pound.
(The world was falling apart, and a fight with Dean wouldn't accomplish a damn thing.)
Tim, fresh out of the bathroom, and always quick to pick up on a shift in Sam's mood, came to the rescue. "Sam," he croaked, shuffling over, "I think I might need some help taking a shower."
~oo(0)oo~
"No wonder Bobby thought you were an incubus," Sam joked after they both got into the bathtub and pulled the curtain, because, in spite of what had happened last night, and the fact that he was sore and marked up all over, that part of Tim was up and raring to go.
"Get used to it," he said over the roar of the water when they broke for air. "Phoenix spoiled me. I got used to having you every morning. It's good to be back in action, and on the road again, but I kind of do miss having our own room."
Yeah, Sam kind of missed it, too. He kissed Tim slow and gentle by way of reply, then soaped him up, fingers touching as tenderly as possible, jerking almost as much as Tim did at some of the damage he and Dean had inflicted. Damn. He'd find a way to make this up to Tim. "Turn around," he said, and, cradling Tim against him with one arm, he reached a soapy hand down and around and slowly, leisurely -- savoring every sound, every shudder -- stroked Tim to completion, holding him up when the post-orgasm Jello legs hit.
By then the water had started turning cold, and as Tim tried to return the favor, Sam kissed him tenderly on each shoulder then shushed him with a peck on the forehead. "I can wait, Tim."
Tim blushed and ducked his head, his hair flopping in front of his eyes. When he looked up again, Sam could see something in their amber depths, burning to come out.
Tim sucked in a huge breath, sputtered, and started over. "So, me and Jay? You -- you're not instead of Jay. Never instead. Ever." Tim trembled underneath his hands. "I just --"
"I know," Sam replied, brushing Tim's hair back and cupping his jaw. "I know."
Tim drew in a long breath, held it, let it out. "Dean's going to be pissed at us -- using up all the hot water."
Sam smiled. "We've got him outnumbered."
Tim nodded once and smiled back. "Yeah. Outnumbered."
~oo(0)oo~
Dean swore at them about the lack of hot water, but before long they were in the Impala, heading towards the greater Atlanta area, in search of Sam's last, best hope for a demon.
----
Part Eleven
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