Virtual Personal

Merry Christmas, Sam Winchester 1/? [NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-12-09T05:09:06Z

Screen cap courtesy of oxoniensis; used picnik (after hearing about it from apieceofcake)

Written for spn_christmas

Fandom: SPN
Title: Merry Christmas, Sam Winchester
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) and Fetish of sam_dean_fetish
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; Slash, incest/wincest
Characters: The characters are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.
Summary: Sam still hates xmas, after all, it has always meant broken promises and gifts he never wanter or which weren't meant for him. Dean still strives to give Sam a proper Christmas. Will a little bit of mistletoe, clues from Sam talking in his sleep, and a lot of luck help Dean 'get it right' this year?

Master Post

Dean was cursing all the way from the lobby of the chalet... even the word was 'expensive'... to the cabin they'd rented for the next couple of days seeing as the only auto repair shop in the little down nestled in the mountains was closed for the holidays. Okay, maybe the credit card he was using to pay for the damned place wasn't really his, but he'd wanted the card to stretch for a while and...

Knee deep in snow, Dean suddenly realized the cabins dotting the mountainside between fir trees... some of which had been decorated and looked like they belonged in some post card. Windows were lit up, the flickering of fire light could be seen through some of them, and the air was tinged with the smell of firewood. "Holidays... we're gonna be here for Christmas," he said, his face suddenly lighting up as he looked at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes as he looked over at his brother. "Yeah, wonderful," he muttered half under his breath, continuing on past his now Christmas awe stricken brother, heading toward the cabin that had been indicated as theirs. Sam hung his head, shaking it. Up until that point, he had been silently cursing the snow under his breath, frowning at the decorations he had seen in the lobby and dotting the landscape and if he had to smell the scent of pine any longer he was going to totally go bat shit crazy. "I hate Christmas," he muttered.

"Whoa," Dean grabbed Sam's arm and slowed him down as he fought to walk through the snow. "What kinda attitude is that, you grinch. Thought you were... over it." He gave Sam a look, didn't his brother remember the 'last Christmas' they'd celebrated together before he went to hell? It had been special to him, even if it maybe hadn't for Sam.

Sam huffed as he looked at his brother. "I don't really want to talk about this, if you don't mind." He glanced toward the cabin's door only a few feet ahead of them. "Can we just go inside? I'm freezing."

"We're going but..." Seing Sam's face was set in stone, Dean gave him a shove and started walking again, quickly reaching the door. Pulling the key out of his pocket, hand freezing, he unlocked the door and opened it, flipping the light switch. As soon as his brother walked in, he looked at Sam. "Just look at this place. Look Sam... right by the window, perfect place for a tree, lights. We could decorated around the fireplace... just like mom used to." A lump rose in his throat. "This could be as perfect as our house in Kansas before..."

Sam clenched his teeth as he let the bags in his hands fall to the floor, muscle twitching in his jaw. "No, Dean. No." he told his brother, voice flat. Untangling himself from the duffel bag straps, Sam shook his head. "I don't remember what mom used to do, and every Christmas after that, the ones I do remember, I'd rather forget." He lifted his gaze to meet his brothers, seeing the look that Sam knew meant he'd hurt Dean's feelings written across his brother's face.

Sam stepped over the bags, walking over to his brother, "Look, I know you did your best, I know," Sam pressed his lips together, slightly slanted hazel orbs searching his brother's face, "And I appreciate that, I do. But let's face it, dad was never around, we didn't get presents like other kids. The very idea that we might believe in Santa got us looks from dad like we were insane." he shook his head, "I got presents that weren't even mine, that you had to steal, trees that were cast offs that you had to take, trying to make me think it was dad." Sam huffed, "Christmas just sucks, okay? Like every other holiday at the Winchester's, it sucked. I'm sorry."'

Dean blinked and hooded his eyes. "Right... fine, its fine." Walking to the windows, he looked out for a sec, then went to the fireplace. There was plenty of firewood, and he was damned if he wasn't going to at least have a nice roaring fire. He didn't remember a whole lot of his childhood with mom... in the good days, but his strongest memories were of Christmas. He always... always wanted to share a bit of that with his brother, but like a lot of other things, he managed to fuck it up every every time. Still, no matter how many times Sam told him to cut it out, something inside Dean made him want... want to give him a piece of his past, a real slice of 'normal.'

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair as he watched Dean walk over to the window. He pressed his lips together to keep from saying more, from appologising again for the truth. Their Christmas' were always horrible. Dad was never there, and Dean did always steal and snag stuff for them to have any semblance of the holiday at all. Of course, Dean never actually stole anything good. One year he had gotten a Barbie, the next an Easy Bake Oven - of course Dean had enjoyed the fact that he had swiped that gift for him more than he did - and yet another year he had gotten some damn tea set.

Yeah, Christmas for Sam Winchester had always sucked ass. Naturally he had started to wonder if his brother was stealing girls shit on purpose after a while, seeings as it seemed to be the only wrapped toys Dean brought back... ever. Rubbing the back of his neck, Sam started toward the small kitchen, "So, the guy said that there were drinks in the mini-fridge in here?" Sam asked, trying to get them off the whole Christmas kick. Just another day, it was just another day.

"Probably." Dean sounded as disinterested as Sam had. He was trying to get over it, he really was, but if he hadn't by now... maybe it kinda meant he never would. Burning his fingers, he cursed and sucked one, turning around to watch Sam stalk around the room.

Sam gave a nod, yanking open the door to the mini fridge. Pulling out a soda he popped the top, turning as he took a long pull from the can. Walking over to the small island in the middle of the kitchen, Sam set the can down, looking over at his brother, his eyes fixed on the tips of Dean's fingers disappearing into his mouth. On his brother's full lips wrapped around them, remembering how in his dream they had been wrapped around...

Feeling Sam's gaze, Dean lifted his own and locked it with Sam's. "I'm getting us a tree. You don't have to celebrate or... approve," he shrugged, but had his say.

Sam blinked at his brother, quickly lowering his gaze as he nodded. He didn't see where you were looking, he doesn't know what you were thinking. Sam grabbed the soda can and quickly took a swig as he shrugged a shoulder. Pulling the can from his lips, Sam licked them. "Whatever." he sighed, turning away, to walk over to the duffel bags, grabbing his. "I'm gonna go find the bedroom and go to bed, you can do whatever you want," he mumbled, taking his bag and his soda with him up the stairs to the loft style bedroom.

"What... already?" It wasn't even ten. Guess little brother was serious. He gave a nod, jaw a little tight. "Night, Sammy."

"Night, Dean." Sam mumbled, sighing as he looked from one bed to the other. There really wasn't a door, but he figured Dean would want the bed closest to the stairs. Tossing his duffel onto the foot of the opposite bed, Sam toed off his boots and unbuttoned his long sleeve shirt, shrugging out of it. Turning to look over the balcony of the loft, down at Dean the Christmas elf, Sam shook his head, his hands going to the fastenings of his jeans. As he shoved them down, his gaze was still on Dean down stairs. You wanna gimme a Merry Christmas? Gimme... no, that was out of the question. It was sick and stupid and a product of his depraved mind when he was asleep. Turning back around, Sam stepped out of his jeans, slinging them over the footboard as he reached for a pair of sweat pants and pulled them on.

Tugging back the covers of his bed, Sam climbed under them, pulling them back up to his middle. Laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, one arm bent, hand beneath his head, Sam frowned. He really wasn't all that tired, but he'd be damned if he wanted anything to do with Christmas.

* * *

Great, this was how Christmas eve was shaping up. Sam in bed at ten, no t.v., nothing. Dean told himself he wouldn't let Sam ruin it, this was as perfect a place to spend Christmas as they would EVER find.

A couple of hours later, he'd chopped down a tree, brought it in, and brought a bunch of greens and stacked them on the ground. Tomorrow, he could get decorations from the lodge... bet they'd have some. If Sam hadn't been such an ass about this, he'd have put little brother to work and they could have the place looking like the other cabins. Tomorrow, one way or the other, he would have this place done up right, and he'd give Sam the Christmas he'd always wanted to give him.

Heading for the bags Sam had left down here, he pulled out the bottle of whiskey, poured himself a glass and then went to sit in front of the fire. He wasn't gonna waste this opportunity, nah... he was going to enjoy sitting in the lap of luxury.

As the liquor soothed him, and the warmth from the fire relaxed him, Dean thought back on all the lousy gifts he'd given Sam for Christmas. Sure, Christmas wasn't just about gifts, but Sam was right... it was a big part of it especially when you were a kid, and he'd never, not once gotten it right. Even the the year he went to hell, when it was as close to a real Christmas as they'd had, he'd gotten Sam a skin mag. That was a much better gift for Dean, than for Sam. If he'd thought about it, really put his mind into it, he could have gotten Sam a book, something he'd mentioned he wanted to read. Or maybe a shirt or something.

Swirling the amber liquid in his glass, he took a deep breath. What would Sam want... what would he want more than anything?

*

Somehow, Sam had managed to fall asleep. At first it had been a dreamless deep sleep, but then, he was suddenly being shoved back by his brother as this outter shirt was being torn open by the elder Winchester's hands. Yup, he was dreaming. Sam smiled in his sleep rolling over on his side. His brother's hands running over is body, his mouth, full soft lips running over his skin, down the side of his neck, up to slant over his mouth, their tongues tangled together. Sam moaned softly, lips parting as he dreamt.

In the dream Dean was pushing him down onto the floor, making Sam gasp in a breath as he rolled over again onto his back. He frowned in his sleep, NO they were not under some damn Christmas tree, it was a product of suggestion only. Not that Sam really had long to become grumpy about it before his brother's hands were suddenly on his hard cock, stroking him, his lips wrapping around his aching erection. "Oh God, Dean, yes..." Sam groaned, rolling back over, hips arching into the empty air.

*

Dean looked up toward the loft. He heard the muffled sounds. They weren't unfamiliar... not lately at least. Sam had been doing a lot of talking in his sleep. A lot of moaning, that had Dean wondering how hot his brother's dreams were. The jerk never shared that kinda information and pretended not to want to hear when Dean told him his dreams. Well... Dean didn't need to dream about it, he got it live often enough. A smug grin spread across his face, but he got a little shock.

Dean. Sam had called his name again. The last time it happened was a couple weeks ago. Dean swore Sam was breathing hard, and moving around, his blankets twisted between his legs. Thinking he was having a nightmare, he'd gone over to his bed to wake him, and then heard. Nah... he couldn't even think it... think... Fuck me Dean.

Knocking back more liquor, he tried to convince himself he hadn't heard his name then... or now.

What does Sammy want. He closed his eyes tight, not that. It couldn't be.

*

Dean finally hauled his ass upstairs and gone to bed. Before that, he'd stood over his brother and touched his cheek. Maybe he imagined the smile, maybe not. But there were no more sounds from him.

In bed, he'd been unable to shut his brain off. Even though he wanted to be sickened by thoughts of ... kissing... or whatever... with Sam, strangely the more he thought about it, the less it turned him off. Okay, if he were truthful, thinking on the sounds from Sam had gotten him a little hard. A lot hard. And now... he was wondering if he was the one who was a sick fuck and had made it all up in his mind.

He'd thought he'd never get to sleep, but he'd slept more peacefully than he had in a long time, his dreams filled with years of giving Sam presents at Christmas... and always, it was himself. When he woke, it was as if a piece of a puzzle had fallen into place. He just needed to make sure that he was right about this... that he hadn't imagined it... he had to know it was something Sam really wanted, before he acted on it and fucked things up again.

*

Sam woke, thankful that Dean was already awake. He wasn't sure that he could really take looking him in the eye right this very moment. Not after last nights dream. It might have only been a dream and certainly Dean would have no idea about it, but Sam wasn't so sure the entire scene wouldn't be written across his face if he looked at his brother too long.

After taking care of business in the bathroom, Sam made his way down the stairs, the scent of coffee being made, calling him from his self induced exilement. Walking down the steps, Sam rounded the corner into the kitchen and nearly choked, clearing his throat as he hung his head. "Mm, morning," he gave a nod, keeping his head lowered, though his eyes slid to the side as he walked into the kitchen, taking in Dean's lack of dress, his gaze sliding over toned muscled abs, shoulders, and sun kissed skin. Trying not to be obvious about checking him out, he asked,"sleep well?"

Dean was shirtless and in his shorts, leaning against the counter and watching the coffee drip when he heard Sam come down the stairs. He didn't move, but he looked at the mirror-like surface of the splash pan behind the oven and watched his brother's face and reactions.
"Mmm humm." Yeah, there was some sort of tension there, but he wasn't sure. He scratched his chest lightly and turned his head. "You?"

Sam gave a small nod, "Mm, good." He sighed, shifting his weight, "me too." He frowned at the coffee pot. Sam's gaze slid back over to Dean, thinking about how it had felt to kiss and touch him in his dream last night. He cleared his throat. Since when did it take this long to make coffee? When the machine finally finished, Sam nearly knocked Dean over racing to grab a cup, pour his coffee and get out of there.

"Hey, what about me?" Dean asked, getting his own cup, a frown marring his forehead. Sam did get clumsy around girls... only those he really liked though. Huh. Coffee in hand, he followed Sam into the livingroom and sat across from him, legs wide open. Raising his eyes to meet Sam's, he asked. "What were you dreaming? Sounded... interesting."

Sam nearly dropped his coffee mug, as he looked at Dean with wide eyes. "Huh? Me?" he shook his head adamently, "I wasn't dreaming. No. Why? What did you hear?" Sam asked him, regretting it the second the question left his lips.

"Mostly?" Dean asked, raising a brow. "It sounded like... 'mmh yeah... more, oh God more...oh baby...fuck yeah...oh D... '" he totally moved his body and his head back and forth, biting his lip, then snapped back. "You know... something like that."

Sam stared at his brother with wide horror-filled eyes, lips parted in shock before he finally managed to snap his mouth closed and swallow hard. Licking his lips Sam took a deep breath, averting his gaze as he looked at the floor in front of him. "I - no I didn't." Sam glanced up. "You're making that up," Sam accused, quickly taking a sip of coffee, trying his best to completely hide behind the mug in his hand.

"Do I REALLY need to demonstrate again for you to tell the truth?" Dean asked, feeling only slightly guilty. Really, he was finding out that this was turning him on... it was a little like phone sex. Right, that was a good reason for shifting and using his mug to hide his stiffy.

"I am telling you the truth," Sam grumbled, pulling to his feet. He started for the stairs, "I dunno what you're talking about. I'm gonna take a shower," he said, walking to the stairs, needing desperately to get out of the room and the hell away from his brother.

Dean watched him, the way he avoided looking at him, noting he didn't even bother calling him a jerk. "Sammy?" Getting up, Dean walked up behind him. "You forgot your coffee," he said, getting into his space on the stairs, as he passed it to him. "I'm coming... up too."

Sam stilled as Dean came up behind him, tried to flatten himself against the railing of the stairs as he looked at his brother like he were holding out a poisonous snake for him to take. "Uh," Sam reached up slowly, staring into his brother's eyes as he took the mug, making damn sure he didn't look down at Dean's chest. "Yeah, right." he licked his lips. "I knew that," he stammered.

"Yeah? I knew you knew that." Twisting to the side, Dean pushed past Sam, his body rubbing against his brother's then giving him a clear view of his ass. When he reached the top, he looked down and saw that Sam hadn't moved. Grinning, and whistling to himself, he walked away, to his duffel bag.

* * *

Sam stood in the bathroom freshly showered, towel slung low on his hips his gaze on his reflection in the mirror above the sink as he reached for his toothbrush. "You didn't make any sounds, Dean's just being an ass. It's fine. He doesn't know. He can't know." he gave a small nod to his own words, glancing down as he applied toothpaste to the brushes bristles, before looking back up, lips pressed together. Blowing out a hot breath, Sam leaned his free hand against the counter, "It's fine." he told himself, bringing the toothbrush up to his mouth.

Dean tapped on the door, and before he got an answer, walked into the small bathroom. "Need something," he said, smacking Sam's towel clad ass and bending down, squeezing himself between Sam and the cabinet under the sink. "Don't mind me."

Sam gave a small grunt at the smack on his ass, nearly swallowing the toothpaste foam in his mouth before stepping to the side and glancing down at his brother in irritation. Quickly spitting into the sink, Sam rinsed his brush. "What the hell is so important that you couldn't wait five minutes for me to get out of the bathroom?" Sam grumped at him, frowning as he filled the small cup with water to rinse his mouth out.

"Nothing... I thought I left it here." Grabbing Sam's leg, Dean used it to pull himself up, the side of his face dragging along Sam's thigh until he was standing.

Sam blinked at his brother, eyes wide. Did he just... he didn't use my leg to pull himself up and drag his face against me as he went.

"You've got some..." Using his thumb, he wiped off some foam on the corner of Sam's lips.

Sam's lips parted as his brother's gaze seemed laser focused on his lips all of the sudden, hazel orbs watching as Dean lifted a hand to... wipe at the corner of his mouth!? The hell....!?!?

"And dude... you need a shave," Dean gave him a look.

Sam swallowed hard, a breath of air leaving him, the only response he seemed capable of making at this point as he stared in wide eyed bewilderment at his brother. Blinking, he licked his lips. "I - yeah, I was," he glanced toward the sink and back at his brother. Oh hell.... Sam frowned at Dean, "You know, you're totally not funny. Now, do you mind? I'm trying to use the bathroom."

"Good." This time Dean rubbed his palm over Sam's chin, half cupping it even as his brother pulled away. "Really need it," he nodded, as if confirming the fact as he walked out. "Hurry up and get your ass out here... I need you..."

Sam watched his brother walk out of the bathroom. "I need you..." Dean's words echoed in his head. Tearing his gaze away from the bathroom door as it closed softly behind Dean, Sam braced both hands on the counter, hanging his head. "You have no idea." he whispered to himself.

* * *

A half hour later, his brother finally made an appearance. Dean grinned at him and pointed to the counter. "Breakfast is cereal, then I'm putting you to work. We're getting this place spruced up, and you're gonna help me."

Sam clenched his jaw as he walked over to the empty bowl sitting next to the jug of milk and the cereal box, spoon laying out beside it. He shook his head, "No, I'm not. I told you, you wanna play the Christmas Elf, go right ahead, I want nothing to do with it. It's just another day, Dean. Means nothing to me, sorry," he said, taking a seat at the counter and pouring his cereal.

"Means something to me." He let the words hang between them, looking over at Sam over his shoulder.

Sam sighed, half dropping his spoon into the bowl in frustration. "Fine, I give up. You win. You always win," Sam told him running a hand through his hair. "What do I have to do?" he turned half around on the stool to look at his brother, "And if you tell me I have to put the star on the tree cause I'm freakishly tall, the deal is over." Sam glared.

"I was with a girl once around Christmas, she tried to put a star at the top of my tree, if you know what I mean... eh, nevermind." Dean was just happy he won that round. "Thanks Sam." He crossed the room and started putting the tree up. "You know, you can start by going to the chalet... they said you can check out decorations. I want lights... lots of them, for the tree and the windows. Oh, and tell them we want the number 3 dinner. I think they can get it to us, what at... 7?"

He talked on, knowing Sam was either not interested or acting disinterested. Dean didn't know whether to wish time forward, so he could change his brother's mind, or to be nervous about it. Nah, he wasn't gonna be nervous, or if he was... he'd seen that Sam was a little nervous too. Big deal, they'd get over it and it would be fine.

Sam sighed, playing with the cereal box as Dean rambled on about Christmas and what he wanted him to do. Of course Dean would send him out into the cold, trudging through snow and wind to get his stupid lights and crap. Lights and crap Sam didn't even want. "Yeah, number 3 meal, by 7, lights and other crap for your tree." Sam muttered as he walked to the sink, placing his bowl down after rinsing it. "Anything else while I'm at it, master?" Sam quirked a brow, giving a pointed look at what he thought of being used as slave labor.

"Master? I like that. When you're done, you can kneel in front of me and then... never mind. That's it... I'll handle the rest." He walked backwards from the tree. "Is it straight?"

Sam huffed at his brother, trying to totally ignore his kneeling comment, but not answering about the tree as he grab his jacket, slipping it on as head headed out the door.

"Was it something I said?" Dean asked the empty room.

* * *

Sam returned nearly an hour later, after balancing the large box against his thigh, he managed to get the front door open and all but fall inside with it in his arms. The first thing that Sam noticed as he walked in was that the place now smelled like a Polo factory, damn evergreen scent was everywhere. Oh God, Dean. Really? Sam huffed under his breath, eyes narrowing on his brother as he walked over to him, dropping the box unceremoniously at his feet.

Without a word, merely frowning at his brother, Sam turned and stalked away into the kitchen.

"You know, I may be the Christmas elf, but you're the damned Christmas grinch." Dean started going through the box and pulling out the lights. "What do you think, just white ones around the windows? Save the colored ones for the tree?"

Sam gave a nod as he opened the refridgerator door, "That or you can just dump the box outside in the snow bank," he shrugged a shoulder before reaching in to grab a soda. Pulling back up to his full height, he turned with the can in hand, knocking the fridge door closed with his ass, "That's what I'd do," Sam told him, popping the top of the can.

"Okay... you know I get that there might not be great holiday memories for you, fine... boo hoo, but doen't meant you gotta hate it with... with some sort of passion." Dean kicked the box and walked outside, regretting not taking his jacket the moment the cold air hit him. Was this an uphill battle? He ran his hands up and down his cold arms as he leaned against the railing next to the steps. Maybe it wasn't hate... maybe it was just disappointment. Dean knew that feeling well, where you called something hate, but really, it was because you expected a lot and your expectations never came through, but that hope... it never died. Was that Sam's problem? It made a big fucking difference.

Sam pressed his lips together as he looked from the spot next to the box of decorations over to the front door. With a sigh he leaned a hand agaisnt the counter and hung his head. It's just gonna be messed up again, Dean. Stop trying so damn hard. It's not ever gonna be right. We lost Christmas ages ago. Sam pulled his head up, his gaze on the front door. "Dean," he called as he pulled away from the counter, "Dean."

* * *

By the time the hotel sent dinner over, Dean had the downstairs as Christmasified as possible. Maybe he'd gone nuts. Maybe he was compensating for Sam's lack of enthusiasm, but while his brother sat on his ass upstairs, watching t.v., Dean lit up the livingroom.

He waited as the waiters set up the table, and then signed the 'charge to the room' slip. Once they left, he poured two glasses of eggnog and set it down, then called out. "Dinners here... Sam, get your ass down here." He walked back, near the bottom of the stairs, and waited, his pulse a little high but under control.

Sam sighed, reaching for the remote, clicking off the television. "Fine, but I am NOT going to help you with any of that crap after we eat." Sam called out as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling to his feet and heading down the stairs, only to stagger step forward as his gaze fell on the living room and all of the decorations. The place looked like something out of one of those cards Hallmark sold. It was... perfect.

Slowly descending the stairs, his gaze never leaving the tree and decorations, Sam finally managed to tear his gaze away to look over at his brother as he reached the bottom step. "You," he frowned and cleared his throat, looking back at the decorations, "you did all this?"
Sam's attention snapped back to his brother, "Why?" he asked him, eyeing Dean up and down as he licked his lips, "I mean," he shrugged a shoulder, shaking his head, not finishing the thought, not even knowing how to finish it.

"Same reason as always," Dean answered, shrugging back. "And if you say anything bad about it... I'm going to have to kiss ... kick your ass."

Sam's eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before he dropped his gaze, head hanging as he nods, clearing his throat. "Um, no, I wasn't gonna say anything." Joining Dean, he glanced up at him from under his bangs, "Uh, you said dinner was ready?"

"Yeah. Can you get the eggnog first? It's by the fire." He'd put it on the corner table. "And don't make a face... a little won't kill you," he added. What would happen if he didn't wait, if he just got it off his chest, if he... nah, he had a plan and he was going to stick to it.

Sam sighed before pressing his lips together, his gaze going back to the decorations before he gave a nod. "Yeah, alright." he told his brother, his voice having gotten soft for some reason, he wasn't even sure why. Walking over to the table, Sam bent, grabbing up the eggnog, his gaze once again, drifting over all the decorations his brother had put up, had put up perfectly, as if he'd called in some home decorating team or something. Pulling to his full height, Sam shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Dean pointed at him. "Don't move." Wearing a wolfish grin, and noting the puzzled look in Sam's eyes, he walked up to him, putting one arm lightly around Sam's waist, the other hand curling around the back of Sam's neck. "And don't spill," he said, right as he brought his mouth over Sam's, kissing him cautiously at first, but then pushing his tongue inside for the briefest second, before stepping back.

His brother's face... oh God, how he wished he could have snapped a picture. Grinning, Dean pointed up above Sam's head. "There was no one else to do it," he gave a casual shrug and took the eggnog from Sam before his brother did spill the drink.

Sam stood staring in wide eyed disbelief at his brother. Those were not Dean's lips against his, and that sure as hell was not his brother's tongue in his mouth. No. No way. He had to have imagined it. But, even Sam licked his lips he could taste his brother there, better than any dream.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Right." Sam stammered, still standing there like he had lost the ability to think or move beyond that point.

"Mistletoe." Dean explained, grabbing the other glass, and holding it out to Sam.

Sam's gaze darted upward, spying the small twig of the plant in question. "Uh-huh, mistletoe," he replied, mentally kicking himself for sounding like an idiot.

"Uh huh, exactly." Touching Sam's glass with his own, Dean took a drink and then walked away casually, pulling his chair out and sitting down.

Sam stared stupidly down at their glasses as Dean clanks then together, his gaze slowly lifting back up to watch his brother walk over to the dinner table.

"Let's eat." Without looking at Sam anymore, he took the silver covers off the two plates and set them on the cart. "MMmm, smells good, doesn't it?" he asked, as the smell of steak and baked potatoe wafted up around him.

Shaking his head, trying to clear it of the tangled mess that is seemed to have become, Sam sighed and walked over to the table, pulling out his own chair, taking a seat. "Steak and baked potatoe?" He asked, brows furrowed as he looked over at his brother, "Which of us is dying?" A meal like this was definately out of their price range and something they would never splurge on, unless of course one or both of them were about to die.

"Keep it up with the downers and I have a feeling it's gonna be you." Dean looked up just as he put a piece of steak in his mouth and "mmmm'd" over it. He could see the questions in Sam's eyes, but he knew his brother well, and so long as he didn't bring it up, he bet Sam wouldn't 'go there' about the kiss either. "You're missing out... eat."

Sam pressed his lips together, wanting to ask about the kiss. Sure, there was mistletoe and yeah if Dean was all into this Christmas thing okay, maybe he could have seen... a kiss on the cheek? But definitely not his tongue in his mouth. And now they acting like nothing happened and eating like royalty.

Sam sighed, reaching for his silverware, brow furrowed as he thought about everything. It was almost, well, as if Dean was trying to... to what? Seduce him? Sam nearly choked on the piece of steak in his mouth at his own thoughts. No, that definitely wasn't it. Reaching for the eggnog, Sam guzzled every last bit in his glass down before pulling the glass from his lips. "Uh, sorry," he cleared his throat, keeping his eyes averted.

Dean moved to his side, patting his back, "water?" Okay, he'd been a little late, but he patted Sam again, set the water down and went back to his place. "Dude, if you don't relax and start eating... I'm gonna put the Christmas Carols on." He kept looking at Sam, trying like hell to catch his eyes, but Sam kept pulling his gaze away.

Sam gave a small nod, cutting into his steak, "I'm eating, I'm eating," he mumbled, keeping his gaze lowered. After eating half the steak and most of his baked potato in relative silence, Sam finally looked up at his brother, "So, what are we gonna do now?" he blinked at his own words, "I mean, uh, did you want to watch TV?"

It wasn't completely 'off plan' but it wasnt' going quite as Dean had thought. He'd pretty much shocked Sam into silence, and while he'd wanted to keep him off balance, he hadn't wanted him to be this uncomfortable either. He took another bite of his food, chewed slowly and swallowed. "I guess sitting in front of the fire and talking... not something you'd be interested in." He let out a small sigh. "Okay Sam, t.v.... that's fine."

Sam pressed his lips together as he shook his head. "Um, no, uh, we can talk, sure," Sam told him, though his gaze lingered questioningly on his brother before he dragged it away to look back down at his meal. He just couldn't take it any more. The decorations, the dinner, the kiss and now talking in front of the fire. Sam clenched his jaw, slowly lifting his head to look back over at Dean, "What is this," he licked his lips, "exactly?"

Dean watched him for a long moment. "Whatever you want it to be," he answered eventually.

Sam's gaze didn't waver, "What were you planning it to be?"

"Christmas. You. Me. World be damned. That's what I was planning, Sam." He sat back, his gaze holding through the lengthy silence as they took each others' measure.

Sam gave a nod. "Oh." He tried to hide the disappointment that twisted in his chest from showing on his face. Of course Dean didn't want, that this wasn't... Sam sighed at himself. He really was just a big freak after all.

Dean leaned in suddenly, one finger reaching for a spot right under Sam's eye, then pulling back with an eyelash stuck on its tip. "Make a wish... make it a Christmas wish, Sammy."

Slightly slanted hazel orbs tracked the movement of Dean's finger, a frown creasing his brow, until Dean held his finger up, telling him to 'make a wish'. Yeah, a wish. Sure. Sam licked his lips, tearing his gaze from his brother's. What he would wish for Dean would probably clock him a good one, but what the hell? It's not like these things really worked anyway.

Sam leaned forward, closing his eyes. I wish that we could have our Christmas alright, but that my present was you. Like my dreams, only better. Opening his eyes, Sam softly blew across Dean's finger, quickly averting his gaze. Yeah, that wasn't awkward, he told himself sarcastically, muscle twitching in his jaw as he picked up his fork, playing with the remains of his food absently.

And incredible need to kiss Sam better swamped Dean, had him holding his breath until Sam pulled away. He released his breath, and searched Sam's face. Yeah... the tension was there... the crackling electricity between them... he'd made the right wish. "It'll come true, Sam. I know it will," he said, quietly looking down and finishing his own meal.

Later, they moved to sit by the fire. Dean somehow made sure that they drank... a lot, and soon the quiet between them dissipated and they were laughing and talking about old memories. Dean admitted that he'd always wanted to try to ski, and Sam suggested while they were burning that credit card... why not rack up a couple bills for lessons and rentals. Hours passed, and Dean learned a few things about Sam that he hadn't known... and when Sam was tipsy enough, he made an admission or two himself as Dean helped him up the stairs.

"Come on, a couple more," Dean said, arm about his brother as they took the steep stairs.

Sam grinned, rolling his eyes. "Well, I don't really hate Christmas. I just hated seeing you trying too hard," he paused, turning his head to look at his brother, leaning in just a little, "when it never came out right," he finished, his voice softer. Clearing his throat, he pulled back again, his attention back to making it up the stairs without landing on his ass. "What about you? You tell me something else I didn't know."

Staring into Sam's eyes at close quarters seemed to steal away all of his quick words, and his thoughts. "Promise you won't remember tomorrow?" He dragged his Sasquatch up one more stair and looked back at him. "I'd die for you. Again. However many times it took." He made a groaning sound as he tugged, "come on... bed time."

Sam frowned at Dean's words, stumbling as they reach the beds, falling onto his and nearly taking Dean down with him. "No," Sam told him, looking up at his brother, brows creased with his frown. "I don't want you to. Promise me," Sam said, "promise me that if I ever die again, you'll let me."

"Whatever you want, Sam." Dean leaned over him and helped him take his over-shirt off. Without asking, he started undoing Sam's pants.

Sam give a small giggle that turned into a gasp of breath as his stomach clenched when he felt Dean's hands working the fastenings of his jeans. His gaze dropped to his brother's hands as he licked his lips before reaching down himself, batting Dean's away, the last thing he needed was for Dean to see his cock twitching with excitement over the idea that his brother was undressing him. The fear of that made it though even the alcohol daze his brain seemed to be in. "I'm not that drunk."

"Maybe I am," Dean answered, moving to Sam's feet and pulling his boots off. He waited for Sam to get his zipper, then started to pull his jeans down, his gaze sweeping over Sam, then meeting his eyes.

Sam smiled up at his brother, lopsidded and goofily, but the heat in his gaze was unmistakeable as hazel orbs searched his brother's face. "You are so beautiful, Dean." Sam told him, voice soft and husky, before it dawned on his intoxicated brain what he just said. Eyes widening for a brief moment, Sam quickly forced out a laugh, trying to play it off as a teasing joke.

"You too bro, I mean that." He put the jeans over the footboard and came back to pull the blanket and sheet up over Sam. "Good night, Sam." He kissed him on the forehead as he'd done for years when Sam was a child, but as he pulled away, his lips skimmed over Sam's.

Sam moaned softly at the feel of Dean's lips against his, eyes fluttering closed. Licking his lips, the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile. "Night, Dean." Sam mumbled softly.

Dean stood there for a while, watching Sam until he fell into a deep sleep. He was pretty sure Sam didn't hear when he whispered, "sweet dreams, babe." Then went to take care of a couple more things, and set the alarm clock on his phone to be sure he didn't sleep later than his brother.

(Don't forget spn_christmas has a reader raffle - you might want to participate)

Master Post: Merry Christmas, Sam Winchester [NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-12-09T04:56:10Z

THANK YOU

2009-12-09T01:09:24Z

Thank you for all the lovely snow flake cookies I'm gorging on, lol. Individual thank-you PM's will go out after LJ fixes itself, I don't think any messages are going through at the moment! I didn't even know about most of the cookies. Bah-humbug (yeah... I know, I'm not fooling anyone with at one)

Happy holidays all. *Hugs*

Purified By Innocence, 7/?[NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-12-07T11:45:25Z

Stunning banner is a gift from innana_maat. We are so grateful to her!

Fandom: SPN - AU - Sam/Dean are not brothers
Title: Purified By Innocence
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) and Fetish sam_dean_fetish
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; Slash; One attempted rape scene (not BY the boys)
Characters: The characters are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.
Summary: Lord Dean Winchester belongs to the secret arm of the Knights Templer, fighting supernatural horrors and demons that plague the land. Knights like Dean must be paired with an innocent who can neutralize the dark taint that builds up inside them due to their close contact with evil. Dean has selected the boy, Sam, as his innocent, and goes to claim him from the monks who have groomed and sheltered him for that purpose.
Author's Note: We have not tried to make the language sound overly medieval. Think of the Herculese t.v. show, you have the ancient Greece setting but more modern lingo is used. However, we did not go for slapstick or anything.

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

Sam's frown slowly melted away, biting his lips Sam began easing back onto the bed, pushing the linens away from himself. Laying on his back, Sam stared at the ceiling for a second before he closed his eyes, one hand slowly moving back to his aching erection, fingers curling around his length. Slowly Sam's hand started to move again, his lips parting as he panted his breaths, head rolling on the pillow.

Slowly sliding his other hand down again, he pulled at his thigh, spreading his legs, breaths hitching as his head rose up off the pillow. Cupping his balls, Sam gasped, his head falling back, neck arching. "Oh God...." Sam's hips thrust his cock into his fisted hand. After a moment, Sam shook his head, "Nnn - no. I - I can't do this with you here," he told Dean, slowly opening his eyes to mere slits as he looked at him, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "C - Come touch me, please?" he asked softly.

He'd been close, so close to coming, when Sam stopped. Dean had tasted disappointment, but knew he couldn't stop, that he'd stroke himself to completion. Then Sam spoke to him, pleaded with him the way he'd hoped he someday would. It wasn't just Dean's cock that surged at that, but his heart lurched.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Dean pushed off the chair, quickly peeled off his tunic and got onto the bed, parallel to Sam, on his side. Reaching out, he pushed Sam's hand out of the way, and closed his fingers around his hard cock, running his thumb gently over its head. "You too... touch me," he said, looking down at his erection and using his free hand to pull his breeches down lower.

Sam gasped out a breath, biting his lip and nodding as he rolled onto his side, reaching a hand out to wrap around Dean's erection and slowly starting to pump him. A low groan tore from Sam's lips as his eyes fluttered closed, lip caught between his teeth. Sam's hips bucked his hard length into Dean's fisted hand as his eyes slowly fluttered open. "Please... need..." he shook his head, "more."

Sam arched against Dean, lips parting. "Kiss me," Sam told him, a soft whimpered whine leaving him, his warm breaths panting out between his parted lip as he looked up at Dean through lowered lids. Sam squirmed, trying to find what he needed, the friction, the stimulation to end the ache between his legs. His neck arched a deep groan leaving him. "Pleeeease..."

He maybe should have been, but Dean wasn't sorry for fiddling with his innocent from morning until night. If this was the result, his Sam needy and begging and willing to experiment, he wasn't sorry at all. "Anything you want," he answered thickly, carefully stroking his shaft, giving him a little more pressure, loving how responsive he was, how he thrust into his fist. "Slower... so it lasts," he said, biting his lip as Sam stroked him so fast he had to fight to maintain control. He stuck his tongue out and traced Sam's lips, teasing him, making him open his mouth several times only to refuse to dip his tongue inside. "Play with me," he demanded, keeping his tongue just a half inch from Sam's lips.

Sam gulped in breaths, writhing and thrusting his hips, nearly whining, his brow creased. He tried to lift his head from the pillows, to chase after Dean's tongue, only to have him pull it away, making Sam whimper in frustration. "P - please...." Sam begged, his hand on Dean's cock squeezing rhythmically, no longer pumping, just squeezing over and over and over again as Sam bucked his hips and tried to get Dean's hand to move faster on his own aching cock. Sam's body shuddered, his head raising off the pillows slightly, muscles tense, before his head fell back again, lips parting and pressing together, before Sam grit his teeth. "Uugh! I can't take it anymore!" his neck arched, free hand gripping the bed linens in a tight fist.

He relented. Rolling closer, Dean covered Sam's upper body with his, plastering his mouth over Sam's and pushing his tongue inside. There was no gentleness in his touch, it was clear Sam was past the point of wanting a slow build up. His lust had been building up all day, and he needed release... he wasn't used to this state. Maybe he now had an inkling of what knights such as himself went through, how needy they could be. "Right here," he crooned, pushing his tongue in a second time, tangling it with Sam's, engaging him in a heated battle.

Good, so good... but not enough. He needed more, needed, something. Sam's hand left the bed and reached for Dean, holding onto him, pulling him closer. He couldn't think anymore, his hand on Dean's cock stopped moving all together after a few minutes, unable to concentrate enough to make it move, to tell it what to do. His entire world had shrunk down to just the feelings Dean was creating, the ache in his groin the need that clawed at him.

The murmurs and sounds Sam made were so beautiful to his ears. He started to stroke Sam harder, faster, opening his own thighs and gripping Sam's leg between his when his lover was no longer in any state to keep working him up. He tongue fucked his innocent, giving no quarter, like he was a tavern pro, milking his rock hard cock, fucking into him. His own groans filled the air around them, crescendoed as the darkness within him reached for Sam's light and was engulfed by flames like a moth drawn to fire.

Sam couldn't keep up after a while and simply held his mouth open, moaning into Dean's, letting him do as he wanted and needing him to, wanting him to with everything in him. Sam gasped, arched and strained against Dean. "Mmm - more... please..." Sam's head thrashed, his hips thrusting up so hard he was nearly arching with each thrust into Dean's hand. Sam couldn't focus his eyes, his thoughts, could barely gulp in enough air it seemed. Pupils lust blown, eyes glazed, his cheeks stained crimson with his passion. He felt like he was on fire, burning up from the inside, the bed linens were too much against his sensitive flesh, nearly hurt to move against them.

Sam whimpered and groaned, as he bucked his hips and clung to Dean as tightly as he could. "I can't - can't..." Sam pressed his lips together, neck arching back. "Nnaahh!" his head thrashed, as he grit his teeth.

"You're coming... you're coming, that's all," Dean crooned, watching intently as Samuel came apart. He held him closer as his innocent shuddered and bucked, moving desperately as he reached for release. "That's it... that's it..." At the first rope of come that shot out of Sam's cock, Dean moved so his cock was covered with Sam's come, used it as lubricant as he started to move his fist over his own firm flesh, squeezing Sam with one hand, and stroking himself, until he too was shouting his release. "Fuck... ah... fuck, Sammy!"

Sam lay gulping in breaths, his body feeling boneless, lids heavy as he looked at Dean, watched him as he slowly wound down from his orgasm. Sam licked his lips and closed his eyes. "Been feeling that all day," he said, voice breathless, and fucked out. Sam exhaled a puff of air and opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. He cleared his throat and shook his head slightly, "I - I thought you went out."

His chest heaved. Dean rolled on his back, but his face toward Sam as he wiped his hand on his breeches. "What gave you that idea? I asked you to use the honey soap for me. Meant to... smell you." He grinned. "Feeling like what all day?"

Sam frowned and shook his head as he thought about the conversation he had overheard. Turning his head he looked over at Dean and blushed, his eyes lowering as he licked his lips. "Aching... between my legs. I -" Sam shook his head before turning it, looking back up at the ceiling. "Nothing - nevermind." he mumbled softly, his blush growing steadily darker.

"For me?" He cupped Sam's face and turned it toward himself. "Aching for me, or just... aching?"

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again. Well, he was going to say for Dean, but that wasn't totally true. It had started with that dream... and he'd been alone in his room then... Sam bit his lip as his gaze fell from Dean's face. He shook his head, not looking up. "I -" Sam pressed his lips into a thin line and swallowed hard before looking back at Dean, "Don't - don't be angry, please, I didn't mean to," he chewed his lip, "it wasn't my fault, I was asleep, but..." Sam lowered his gaze again. "I was touched in my dreams and that's when it started," he mumbled softly.

"Who touched you... in that Dream?" The answer could have been more pleasing, but Dean wasn't going to make his mind up until Sam was able to tell him everything. "Do you remember? Whose face?" Seeing Sam's reluctance, he asked, "whose eyes did you see?"

Sam shook his head, "I -" he swallowed hard and squirmed away slightly, "I didn't see his face, not - not then," he bit his lip, "when I took my nap, he, um, green... and full lips." Sam's gaze dropped down to Dean's lips, then at the bed again.

"He... I see." Dean hid a grin. "Maybe I should check, make sure you are alright. You're not aching right now, are you?" Seeing Sam shake his head, he nodded as well and skimmed his mouth over Sam's chest. He lingered over his nipple, licking and sucking.

Sam sucked in a breath as Dean licked and sucked his nipple the sensation sending heat through his system that pooled in his groin.

"You do smell like honey." Splaying both hands across Sam's abs, he kissed a line between them, traveling downwards. "Sing to me while I examine you. The songs you were so taken with after dinner... sing them."

Dean was doing exactly what he had imagined his knight doing, his knight that no longer was totally a faceless man, but now had green eyes and full lips, that kissed him like Dean...

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, his cock twitching, taking notice of what Dean was doing along with the images in Sam's mind. "Um, I -" Sam frowned and shook his head, "I can't remember the words, I -" Sam's hips rose upward toward Dean as his head rolled on the pillow. "I - this," he swallowed a moan. "Just like earlier," Sam whispered on a sigh.

"You mean the pain is starting?" He looked up, then moved on down and lifting Sam's cock, started to examine it. "I wonder if it would ache if I kissed it, what do you think? Hmm? Or how about this?" He cupped him just the way he had in the morning, gently putting pressure on his now hardening cock. "Maybe I should stop playing with it, I don't want you in 'pain' again." Dropping a kiss on the tip of Sam's cock, he released him. "You want to sleep now?"

Sam shook his head, "No, don't stop," a small whimper escaped him, "please..." Sam bit his lip as his hips thrust upward. "Pp-put your hand on me again," Sam arched and reached down with his own hand, grabbing his rapidly swelling cock, a small gasp leaving him as he gripped it, his other hand sliding over to creep up the side of his leg, pulling his legs apart before cupping his balls. Sam's eyes rolled up, lips parted as his neck arched back.

Dean gently forced Sam to let go of himself, then pinned his wrists to the bed, next to his body. "I don't think we should get you that excited. You were feverish and uncomfortable. Even though what I really... really want to do is take you in my mouth, let you rut for as long as you want... I ... I don't think we should do that. You're so delicate, you're my delicate innocent," he said, kissing his belly hard, moving his wet mouth in circles in a way that hinted at how his mouth might feel on Sam's cock.

Sam's breaths panted out as he arched into the feel of Dean's mouth on his stomach. Sam shook his head, "Nnn-no, I'll be okay, really." He swallowed hard, "do - do that," he nodded, "touch me... with your mouth." Sam tried to squirm upward on the bed and bring his cock up to Dean's mouth, even as Dean pinned his arms down.

Lifting his head, Dean moved lower, contemplating Sam's cock. Sticking his tongue out, he drew its outline, first with the tip of his tongue, then with the flat of his tongue, pulsing here and there.

Sam sucked in air between his teeth, his head rolling to the side before he bit his lip, breaths panting out through flared nostrils.

"I don't know.... maybe we should try this when you've recovered." Pausing, he moved lower, and sucked on Sam's sack, teasing with his tongue, then taking half of it in his mouth. He'd seen how many times Sam had grasped his balls, knew it had to be one of his special pleasure points, and he wasn't about to waste the knowledge.

As soon as Dean's mouth closed over his sac, his tongue teasing him, Sam's lips parted, eyes widening, he quickly grit his teeth, pressing his lips together hard to keep from shouting. His breaths came harder, his cock twitching and pearling with pre-cum as he moaned. Oh God, so good... felt so good...

Pulling off, he sucked on the other side, then passed his lips over Sam's shaft and lifted his head. "I don't think that was a good idea. It just got you harder. I'm sorry... sorry Sammy, I'll leave you alone now."

The fingers of Sam's hands as Dean held his wrists pinned to the bed moved, overlapping Dean's wrist, holding him back, just as much as Dean was holding him as Sam's head and shoulders came up off the bed, "NO!" his own authoritative bark surprised him, and Sam bit his lip, as he stared at Dean. "Please," he begged softly, "don't leave me like this," Sam pleaded, slowly lowering his upper body back down against the bed and pillows.

Without answering, Dean merely looked at Sam's hands gripping his own wrists, then lowered his head. Done with the teasing, he moved his open mouth up and down Sam's shaft, then releasing one of his wrists, grasped his cock. As he slowly squeezed his innocent, he started to lick the areas of his cock that remained exposed... his crown, and between Dean's fingers. So good, his innocent's reactions were so fucking good. And he tasted like honey... tasted perfect for him, had been groomed just for him. Dipping his tongue into the small slit at his tip, he licked off his pre-cum and pulsed his tongue, then sucked him inside the wet heat of his mouth.

Sam panted and writhed against Dean, against his mouth, small moans and whimpers breaking from his throat, his head rolling on the pillows, eyes closing, then opening, blinking to stay that way, jaw clenched, nostrils flared. Sam groaned and arched his neck. "Don't," he licked his lips, "don't stop, please...." his head rolled, "oh God..."

When Dean sucked his cock into his wet warm mouth, Sam's hips bucked as his free hand reached for Dean's head, fingers splayed in the soft short strands. His breaths panted out, hard and heavy, chest rising and falling with each breath, face flushed a deep pink. "Ohgod, ohgod... Dean, don't stop!" a small cry tore from Sam's lips as his hips bucked his cock deeper into that wet warmth.

He hadn't expected this much enthusiasm this quickly, and it made his heart soar. Maybe someday soon, his innocent would show the same need for other things, things that had disappointed him before. Things Dean needed, would need more desperately when he fought darkness, and the darkness within himself grew. He sucked hard now, moving his mouth up and down Sam's hard flesh, allowing him to thrust deep into his throat. That's it... that's it... you're so close... so close.

Sam thrust his hips hard, the rhythm he had started lost in his frenzy, eyes widening as his lips parted, gasping in air. "Dean! Dean!" Sam's hand on the bed, gripped the linens as the hand on Dean's head curled in his hair, tugging on the strands too short to get a good grip on.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed, teeth clenched together as he arched his neck back, muscles tensing, the pink tint on his face,turning an even deeper shade. He felt heat pool low in his belly, his balls drawing up tight just as they had before. Sucking in air through his nose, Sam arched his hips more, and then he was coming, hot jets of his spunk shooting down his masters throat as Sam cried out Dean's name.

Releasing Sam's other hand, Dean stroked his belly, soothing him as he kept sucking, wringing out everything Sam could give him, refusing to allow even a drop of his innocent's essence to spill from his mouth. As Sam started to ease up, his hips moving and rotating at a much more relaxed pace, Dean slowly pulled off, a soft popping noise sounding. He licked Sam a few more times, let his now flaccid cock fall, then crawled up his body and looked into his face. He cupped Sam's cheek. "That's my boy. You got your pole up two times. Either you really like my mouth or... you're a knight," he teased, kissing him on the mouth, groaning at the feel of Sam's mouth, and his hot breaths skimming over his skin.

Sam lay staring up at the ceiling, not seeing it as he gulped in air, his eyes moved as Dean did, tracking him as Dean crawled up his body, then gazing up into his face as Dean looked down at him. Sam's chest rising and falling heavily with his breaths as he fought to catch it.

Sam gave a small breathy chuckle to Dean's words and licked his lips before Dean leaned down and kissed him. His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes once again to look up at his knight and swallowed. "I dunno, but I think I might just die now," he said breathlessly, his hand falling to rest on his chest. "I don't think I can move again," he shook his head slowly, "ever," he told Dean, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Then don't. I prefer you sleep in my bed," he admitted. He'd never envisioned his innocent sleeping anywhere but here, and had been sorely disappointed by his choice. The thought to order him to remain had crossed his mind, but it wouldn't have been the same. "Tell me, did you like what you felt?"

Sam blushed deeply as a wide smile slowly split across his face, making his dimples show, his gaze falling away from Dean's shyly as he nodded, lips pressed together before he pulled the bottom one into his mouth worrying it between his teeth. "It was... thrilling, and exciting.... scary, but it felt so good." He glanced up at Dean, then raised a hand and covered his face with it. "Stop looking at me like that." he whined, "you're embarrassing me."

"Am I?" Giving a smug smile, Dean asked, "how should I look at you?"

Sam peeked at Dean from between his fingers, a smile on his face. "I dunno, but not like that!" he giggled and turned his head away.

"And how do you think you're looking at me. Now... and back then?" Dean raised a brow, then settled down more comfortably, pulling Sam into his arms. "Do you want me to give you a description? Your face was flushed, your eyes..." he licked his lips, "did you know your pupils take over your eyes and make them appear black when you are lusting after me? You could barely keep them open, or you couldn't make up your mind," he chuckled. "And your tongue never stopped painting your lips... making me jealous wishing it was me doing the painting." He nodded, going on despite his innocent's shy looks. "Your throat and chest were flushed and I think the sound of your heart must have awakened all of the residents of the castle."

Sam rolled closer to Dean, hiding his face against his neck. "Stop! Stop!" he called out against Dean's neck, making his voice muffled. Slowly Sam raised his head, his cheeks aflame with his embarrassment as he looked down at Dean. "I'm never walking out of here again, I'll just live up here forever and hide my face," he muttered, though a smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

"That I won't allow, I like to see your face. Sleep now, but wake me... if you have another ache between your legs." Dean was quite sure Sam would wake with a hard on, very very sure. "Or mount me and have your way, like in the tub," he suggested, closing his eyes, a genuine smile on his face. He was one step closer to finding peace in his life, that much he knew.

Sam gave a lop-sidded grin as he slowly lowered himself back down, his head on Dean's upper chest, face tilted up against his neck. "Mount...?" Sam frowned and gave a soft huff, "Don't be so cocksure, I might just wake up without any aches or..." Sam frowned again and sighed, "I'm going to refrain from further comment before I accidently back myself into a tight spot in which I am unable to wiggle my way out of." Sam told him, closing his eyes.

"Sam... keep arguing and I'll have you wiggling in no time," he threatened. It was an enticing thought, but he would allow his innocent to rest, and the morning would come soon enough.

* * *

Before the cock crowed, there was a soft knock on the door. Dean was up and sitting by the time the servant came in. "Your Lordship, there is a situation. Sir Peter is on his way." The servant rekindled the fire, and then lit up a few candles.

Giving a curt nod, Dean pushed off the bed, turning to cover Samuel up. He regretted that he wouldn't be here to find out if his innocent woke with 'aches' and whether he would be able to get over his shyness enough to mount him, or ask for sex. Perhaps he'd find out tomorrow, if he was back in a day. Many of his quests took weeks or months, but he hoped it wasn't the case now. He was only just getting to know Samuel.

Sam squirmed, reaching a hand out to toss over Dean, only to find cold linens instead. Licking his lips, Sam lifted his head, eyes opening just to mere slits, lashes nearly still clinging together, "Mm? Dean?" Sam turned his head, looking around for him.

"Shshsh, sleep." Dean pulled on some more clothes, then came back to the bed, sitting on its edge to put his boots on. "I'm leaving on a hunt. I'll send word once I know more." The temptation to slip back under the sheets and cling to the warmth of his innocent's body was strong. He ran his hand over the back of Sam's searching hand, giving it a small squeeze.

Sam took in a deep breath, pushing himself up on his elbows as he turned over on his stomach, eyes just a little more open. "Hmm? A hunt?" Sam frowned, "No, you can't," raising a hand to rub at one eye Sam blinked a few times, coming more awake. "I'll go with you," Sam told him, pulling up onto his hands and knees on the bed, before turning to sit up and stifling a yawn. "Can I? I won't be in the way, I wanna go."

He cleared his throat. "I don't know what we are facing. Come meet me at breakfast, if I think it will be safe for you, you may come." He got up and walked to the door, then turned. "But if I say no... don't ask again. I won't endanger you."

Sam nodded silently up at Dean, though he wanted to argue that he would not be endangered, he'd be with him.... and wasn't he suppose to be a great knight? The thought made Sam almost smirk, but he fought back the impulse as he reached to grab his clothes.

He wasn't an invalid either, many a day he'd spent dreaming that he could someday be a knight himself, though it was an impossibility without someone to sponser him, he had dreamt it just the same and worked to become strong and agile. He wasn't a child. These arguements too he didn't voice, as he watched Dean slip from the room.

With a sigh, Sam pulled from the bed, pulling on his brais and breeches and started to clean up and prepared to go downstairs tp break his fast.

* * *

Walking into the dining hall, Sam's attention was immediately and solely focused on Dean as he made a beeline for him, not even pausing to scratch the head of one of his dogs as they made their way over to him. "Well? What is it? Can I go?" Sam asked Dean as he reached him, slightly slanted champagne hazel eyes searching Dean's face eagerly.

Giving him a long look, Dean eventually nodded. Though a part of him wanted to protect Sam from the knowledge of what was out there, he'd seen the boy's curious and stubborn nature. It was best that he show Sam himself under controlled circumstances where Sam would be protected then allow him to find a way to find out for himself. This hunt wasn't too far, and it appeared to be a simple case. He motioned to a servant, and nodded for Sam to sit.

Sam sat down, eager eyes on Dean's, his heart racing as he fought to hide the smile that wanted to spread across his face.

"We will go cast the demon out of a woman possessed. Eat quickly, we leave at the half hour candlemark."

The servant brought a box, and Dean opened it, taking out a silver amulet. "This will protect you from possession. Never take it off." Leaning forward, he put the chain over Sam's head, he tucked the silver charm under Sam's tunic, his fingers brushing over warm skin.

Sam's eyes tracked the movement of Dean's hands and the amulet as he put it on him, the smile he had been trying to hide, slipping out as he nodded, one hand going to rest against the amulet at his chest. "I won't, my lord," Sam told him, eyes alight with awe and excitement.

"And you will obey without question every order. Mine... Peter's, it is for your safety," Dean emphasized. His innocent was smiling now but the sight of a person possessed would likely wipe the smile away. He hoped it would not give him nightmares.

Sam nodded before turning around to eat. "I will, don't worry," he mumbled, piling food onto his plate and stuffing some into a pouch for later, even as he mentally rolled his eyes at his masters worries.

* * *

A half day's ride later, Dean, Peter and Sam, accompanied by a guard of twelve other knights who had no knowledge of the occult and would rather keep it that way, arrived at a lone cottage in the woods.

As they dismounted, a man of the church and two others approached and explained that the healer, Tara, well known among these parts, had been acting strange. That those who went to her for small ailments had started to rot away and die. Father Angus had come to see her and when he'd started to pray, her eyes had bled to black and the old priest had been thrown across the room so hard, he'd broken his skull and died.

His assistant had run out and poured salt around the cottage but had been afraid of going back inside.

"Good," Dean nodded. "Samuel, stay out here behind the salt line for the moment."

Shifting his weight, Sam wanted to argue the matter, but refrained, hands clenching at his sides as he gave a stiff nod.

Exchanging looks, Dean and Peter walked inside and searched. The healer was on the floor, in a corner, her matted hair falling across her face. She appeared to be comatose.

Peter stood guard over her, a large silver cross in one hand and holy water in the other, while Dean turned his back and began to draw on the floor. When he was done, both men moved suddenly to grab the healer. She screamed and shouted and writhed, and only the unexpected splash of burning holy water on her face prevented her from throwing the men against the wall.

Now stuck in the devil's trap, she walked in a circle, cursing them both, their parents and their great grand parents. Then she started on their progeny.

Dean walked to the door and looked out. "Sam, come. Stay near the door. Walk back beyond the salt line if there is trouble." His gaze went to the other men who appeared unhappy with the sounds from inside.

Sam nodded and walked quickly over to where Dean stood, looking past him inside the room. All he could see was that there was a woman inside of some circle. Sam's brows drew together as he remembered seeing that before, back at the monestary in one of the hundreds of books that he had learned from.
Looking back at Dean, Sam licked his lips and tilted his head, "I - I can help, what do you need me to do. Let me help."

Her head spun toward Sam, eyes black as night going back to normal. "Help me. I haven't done anything," she said in a little girl's voice. "They hurt me," she said, showing him brutal cuts on her arms, yet bleeding. "Stop my bleeding, please?"

Sam took a step closer, eyes fixed on the girl's bleeding cuts, before his gaze went to her face, "Who hurt you?" he asked softly, taking another step into the house, brushing past Dean.

Dean hand whipped out quickly, grasping Sam's arm. "They lie, they play on sympathies. Do not get closer."

Sam's gaze darted to Dean's, lips parting as he tried to think of what to say, how to say it. This was just a girl, not a monster. Sam's attention was drawn back to the girl as she spoke again, muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched it.

"Men from the church. I'm a healer, they call me a devil... I just help people, save them," she cried, tears flowing down her cheeks. "They're superstitious, afraid of what they don't understand."

'Men from the church.' Sam had learned first hand how untrustworthy men from the church</i> were.

Releasing Sam's arm, but aware of what his innocent might do and where he was, Dean started to flip through a worn book. There was the smell of sulpher and he'd noted foxglove on the wooden table. It was likely that the healer was one who knew spells, and that she'd been possessed by one who would make perverse use of her knowledge. He had to find the right exorcism, not the one he knew without having to look at the text.

"Please... at least don't let me die. I am accused of being a witch but... a trial, before I am burned? Please, sir." She stretched her arm out to Sam.

Sam shook his head as he looked at the girl, "No one is going to hurt you, I -" he glanced at Dean, then looked back at her, "I won't let them."

Finding what he was looking for, Dean made a face. This was going to be more difficult than he'd hoped. "On your knees," he said, ignoring Samuel and walking close to the circle. "This can be easy or it can be difficult. On. Your. Knees." He looked over at Peter and nodded at the silver cross. His friend tossed it to him.

She started to cry in earnest. "Leave me in peace, you've done enough... all of you. I'll die anyway... then you'll be happy."

"Hard way." Dean nodded and stepped into the circle, slamming the cross into her forehead as he pushed her shoulder down with his other hand. "On your knees." When she started to struggle, he didn't hesitate, slamming the metal into her face again, blood running down from her nose as he twisted her arm beind her.

Sam's eyes widened, mouth falling open in astonishment at what he was seeing. "My. lord!" Sam yelled as he started over toward them, "She's just a girl! Surely there is a way to do," Sam pressed his lips together, waving a hand in the air, "this without need of hurting her!" He ran a hand through his hair, pacing, unable to believe how callous and cold Dean was being to some poor girl. What had she done to deserve this? She was right, she was innocent! If she was possessed, wasn't it the demon that was the guilty one here and not the girl before them?

Peter instantly crossed in front of Samuel and gave him a warning look.

Pushing her all the way to her knees, Dean let the page open and started to read from it, the silver cross pressing down on her head. He cleared his throat and began, with Peter on occasion adding a few words and entreaties to the heavens for help.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus
omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio
infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,
omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."

Her face bled more. She stretched her one arm out to Sam. "He's hurting me... oh God he'd breaking my arm."

Sam started to step toward her, but Peter blocked his path. Glaring at the knight did him no good either, so Sam's gaze returned to the girl as he chewed his lip.

"Ergo draco maledicte
et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te."

She started to get up, struggled against Dean's hold. Peter threw another cup of holy water on her face. Steam rose as she screamed. An invisible force threw furniture at Peter, and pushed Dean back, though he stubbornly clung to her, and continued the ritual.

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he watched what was happening around him, saw the evidance that she was possessed, but he still didn't think they had to be so brutal with the poor girl in order to get the demon out. Muscle twitching in his jaw, he clenched and unclenched his hands into fists as he watched the poor girl bleed, her skin seeming to melt away under the holy water. For the love of God...

A struggle ensued. Dean's head whipped back as invisible hands tried to choke him.

Sam gasped, eyes widening. "My lord!" Fear now for Dean's saftey overriding that of the girl's as Sam tried to get closer.

Dean kicked her, forcing her to slam against the shocking walls of the devil's trap and making her curse. All the shutters slammed shut, the door following. Candles went out, plunging the small house into darkness.

"Goddamit... I cant read. Peter, get the fucking door op--" Dean's words were cut short.

Sam stood worrying his lip, wanting to move forward, but Peter in his way, wanting to help, to do something.

"Don't move," Peter yelled at Samuel, then went to struggle with the door, shouting for those outside to come break it down.

Head turned in the direction Sam heard Peter walking off in, Sam looked back toward where Dean and the possessed girl were, jaw clenched, muscle twitching. Sam licked his lips and made a decision, Dean wanted the exorcism finished, he would finish it. "cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare," he heard the girl screaming.

The low melodic voice speaking the words of the exorcism ritual so perfectly was Samuel's. How was that possible? Dean had no time to ponder too deeply as the victim got more violent. They struggled, fought, him to keep the cross on her forehead, her to kill him. His hand desperately searched outside the trap to find more holy water but failed. But Samuel's persistent words had Dean whispering in the woman's ear, "you're going to hell... now."

Swallowing nervously, Sam continued. "Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae te rogamus, audi nos. Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri."

The door had been broken open, allowing light to flood inside and Dean said the last words of the ritual together with Sam. The healer's body went limp, and a vile dark smoke erupted from her mouth.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Dean put his hand over the healer's nose. "She breaths. See that she is taken care of," he said to a pair of the knights and the church man who walked inside.

Sam stood, hands clenched to fists at his sides, his breathing somewhat labored, eyes fixed on the girl, lips parted when it was all over.

Stepping out of the circle, he put his arm around Sam's back and walked him outside. "You... are amazing and brave, how is it I didn't know that?" Pulling him up hard against him, he kissed his innocent hard, trying to control the need to be cleansed of darkness. "Thank you."

Sam didn't move, or tear his gaze away from the girl until he felt Dean touch him, only then was he pulled out of his shock and allowed Dean to walk him outside. He shook his head at Dean's question, lips still parted, his stomach flipping and flopping as he gulped in air. As Dean kissed him, Sam fought not to struggle, not to shove him away, didn't want him to think it was him causing the reaction, but Sam's inability to take in enough air. Shoving Dean away at last, Sam started to tremble violently, his eyes wide, just before bending over and retching, his breakfast spilling all over the forest floor.

For a moment, Dean thought Sam was rejecting him because of what he'd seen. But as he stroked his back and called for water, he thought it might be because unlike himself, Samuel had no ability to keep the darkness he'd touched within him. Just as he cleansed Dean of Dean's darkness... Sam had to expel any darkness that entered him.

He gave his innocent another moment for the spasms to end, then helped him up. A cup of water was given to Sam. "I should have left you at home," Dean mused, regretting the pain he'd caused.

Sam took the water offered with a shaky hand as he shook his head, "No," he swallowed and took a long drink, gulping the water down, the wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, "I'm okay, just felt," he made a face, "funny." he nodded, "I'm okay now."

One of the knights offered Sam a small apple. Dean shook his head, still angry at himself for letting Samuel ride with them. He spoke to the two knights who would take the healer and the two other men to safety, then returned. "We ride back."

"My Lord, perhaps a stop at the tavern in McInlay?"

Dean shook his head 'no' and started to help Samuel up onto his horse. His face was grim, the way it usually was after a hunt, but he had the added weight of worrying about Sam.

Sam leaned back against Dean and closed his eyes for a moment as the horses were turned around. Pulling up to sit straight, Sam reached for his master's hand. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm alright, really. Just," Sam shook his head, "something didn't set right within me. I'm better now, I swear it."

"I'm not upset." It wasn't wholly true. He threaded his fingers through Sam's, and placed it on Sam's belly as the others prepared to ride. "You expel the taint, me... it just twists me inside. Hold on," he nodded at the others and began to ride slightly ahead.

Sam frowned thoughtfully, "That," he bit his lip, "that is what you feel? All the time? It... it nearly hurt, was close to painful." Sam turned his head to look over his shoulder at Dean, "and this is what you suffer through?"

"Not exactly. Don't squirm right now," his words were sharp. He took in a couple of breaths, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to force his innocent to help him right here and now. His fingers dug into Sam's belly as he tried to maintain control, riding faster.

Sam froze, eyes widening, "I - am I making it worse?" he asked, trying to lean forward more away from Dean, not wanting to add to his discomfort.

"Shsh, Samuel." His hand slipped down, between Sam's legs. "The need to claim is on me," he swallowed as the horse stumbled and his erection ground into Sam's ass. "I will control it... don't aggravate. Don't fight," he reminded him, his hand pressing down, squeezing Samuel, wanting him to ache the way he was aching.

Sam sucked in a breath at the feel of Dean's hand on his cock, squeezing, teasing, sending heat through his system. A small whimper broke from Sam's throat as his head fell back against Dean's shoulder, eyes closing, he bit his lip. "Oh God..." Sam breathed the words, his hips thrusting his groin into Dean's hand.

He pulled the boy practically over himself, groaning at the harder pressure on his cock. As he moved his hand over Sam's arousal, his mind filled with images of them on their bed, of Sam on all fours, of himself fucking him the way he needed in order to get relief from the dark needs that were building within him, different, sharper than normal lust for his innocent.

He kissed Samuel's throat, drawing in his scent, needing him. "If we were home, you'd be under me right now," he growled.

A soft mewling sound broke from Sam's parted lips, his breaths coming slightly faster as he ground himself against Dean's hand. "My lord?" Sam frowned slightly, eyes still closed, as he bit his lip, body molding against Dean's. "Need..." a whimpered moan tore from Sam's throat, "need to - to rut against you, I think."

"Need to be inside you, need to touch your light," he answered, breaths coming harsher as Sam moved against him. "Feel dark and empty, damned without you." He bit his lip as need tore through him, making him gasp for air. "Tell me what you would do if we were in the bath." Why did he torture himself so? Perhaps if he was able to get off now, he would be able to control his need later. Maybe he wouldn't take as much, maybe he wouldn't need to be inside his innocent, not until he'd convinced him of the joys of getting fucked. The last time had not turned out to well.

A small cry broke from Sam's throat, the idea of his master being inside him scared him, but his body ached, wanted the contact with Dean's. "I - I..." Sam swallowed hard. The bath. He could do that. Talk about the bath. Sam nodded, licking his lips, "I- I would press my lips to yours, lick into your mouth and suck your tongue the way we practiced. Grind myself against you, thrust my aching parts against your body. I -" Sam groaned softly, his hips thrusting as his cock twitched inside his breeches. "Dean..."

Sonova... riding and trying to get inside Sam's breeches wasn't working out well. Sliding his hand back down over the material against which Sam's cock strained, he alternated between squeezing and pushing his hand down and up Sam's length. "Would you sit on me? Would you let me inside if I told you how much I ached. More than you did yesterday, so much more. Would you let me if I touched you like this the whole time." As he felt Sam grinding down on him, he groaned. "If you were naked now..."

Sam panted, lips parted. Swallowing hard, he clung to Dean's hand, "I -" a soft whine broke from Sam's throat as he squeezed his eyes closed, "In the bath, we, I -" Sam took a breath and exhaled slowly, "you ask me that in the bath and I want to do this for you, I do, but I'm scared. I take your hand and lace our fingers together. 'Show me,' I tell you, as I breath in your breaths, open my eyes to look into yours. My knight's eyes." Sam nodded, "Show me."

"Samuel..." he looked wildly around. "Hold still now... I don't know if I can wait... hold still." Biting down on his lip he fought against his nature, fought the darkness inside, the desperate need twisting low in his belly, coiling tighter and tighter. He stopped grinding, stopped teasing both of them, but a part of him cried it was 'too late.'

Sam trembled slightly with his desire, breaths gasping out, "My - my lord? You - you don't want me to continue?" Sam asked, biting his lip. "I -" he moaned softly, his hand lowering to his own groin, as Sam looked around to be sure no one would see and pressed his hand against himself, groaning long and loud, breath gasping out.

"No.... yes... damn," seeing a small cottage, Dean veered to the right and rode hard towards it, his horse jumping over a fallen tree and not breaking its stride, moving as if they were in pursuit. He pulled the horse to a halt, jumped off, and gripped Sam's waist as he dragged him off the horse.

Sam gasped in a breath, eyes wide, unsure what was happening. Where they were going or why. He staggered slightly on his feet as he looked from Dean to the house and back, tugging on his tunic to be sure it hid the buldge in his breeches.

"What is it, Dean?" Peter reached them and dismounted.

"Get everyone out of the house. Now."

Everyone out of the house? Sam's mouth fell open as he looked at Dean.

"Aye." Peter went and banged on the door. When and old woman answered, he told her to get out, and then brought several young children out as well. "The house is clear, my Lord."

"My - Dean? What? Why are we? What is wrong? Is there something amiss?" Sam asked him confused, his eyes darting between the house, the woman and children and Dean.

"No. Come," he practically dragged Samuel inside and kicked the door shut. "I need you." Turning him around, he pushed Samuel against the door and trapped him against it with his body pressing aggressively against his innocent's. "Want you," he said almost wildly as he tugged Samuel's tunic off, and started to kiss his throat, touching him, running his hands all over his bare skin, claiming him.

"M - Master!" Sam nearly yelled, eyes wide. How could he kick those people, children out of their own home for this!? Sam's complaints and arguements were stuck, lodged in his throat as his tunic was stripped off of him, Dean's mouth on his throat, his hands running over his flesh. Sam gulped in a shuddering breath. "P - please, my lord, that family... I -" he swallowed hard, his hands having risen to grip Dean's waist, neck arching giving Dean better access.

"Please Samuel... I need this," he insisted, grinding his hips, his arousal into Sam. He sucked Sam's skin into his mouth, a low moan coming out of him as another wave of lust hit him. Using his knee, he separated Sam's legs, stepping closer, fucking into him harder. "Don't you feel it... my hunger for you?" he asked. He was ravenous, he hurt ... hurt for Sam.

Sam gulped in air, his breaths labored, his body straining against Dean's as he squeezed his eyes closed, opening them, then squeezing them closed again, over and over, until he was staring up at the ceiling, weight shifting slightly from one leg to the other. "Uh, yeah, I, Mmm.. okay, but here, my lord? Family... there are children... I don't think.... I -" a groaned whimper tore from Sam's throat as his fingertips dug into Dean's hips through the material of his tunic and breeches.

"Right here... right now, yes." He allowed Sam to cradle their hips together for a long moment, feeling his innocent's physical reply to his need. He needed Sam ... needed him naked and writhing in his arms. Dragging his mouth down Sam's chest, he got on his knees and started to untie Sam's breeches, then moved his hands down to his boot lacing.

Sam's breaths panted out, "But - but," he whimpered and bit his lip, arching into the feel of Dean's mouth on his skin, his neck and chest. "people - people live here." Sam argued half-heartedly.

Just a moment later, he stood up and lifted Sam in his arms, crushing their bodies together as he walked to the single bedroom in the house.

"D-Dean, I -" Sam nodded, "okay, but here? I mean," his eyes darted about the small house before looking into Dean's face. It was wrong, it was embarrassing, it was... God, it was barbaric. Sam swallowed hard, glancing over his shoulder at the bed as they entered the bedroom. Thoughts of what if that were the children's bed, a place where children lay tucked in to sleep, safe and sound ran through Sam's head and he started to wiggle in Dean's arms, eyes widening. "At - at least buy them a new bed after! Oh my God!"

Dropping his too talkative innocent on the bed, Dean quickly rid himself of his tunic. Crawling onto the bed, he immediately wrapped his hand around Sam's cock, and opening his mouth, sucked him inside. He wanted the protests to cease, wanted Samuel to want him so bad, he could no longer think. His hand worked over Sam's thigh and abs, caressing him, mapping his dimensions as Dean took him deep inside his throat.

As Dean's mouth engulfed his aching cock, Sam gasped in a breath, back arching as he gripped the sheets tightly in his hands. "Nnuughh..." his breaths panted out as he licked his lips, head rolling, his eyes closing and opening, low moans and soft mewls breaking from his throat. Sam's hips thrust upward, forcing more of his cock into his master's hot mouth, teeth clenched, neck arched. "More.... Oh yeah..." he drew in a shuddering breath, capturing his lower lip between his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut, head rolling.

Dean gave him more, as much as he could before the demands of his own body reached a fevered pitch. Getting up on his knees, he undid his britches, pulling them down and letting his cock free. He touched himself, stroking his shaft as he looked down at Samuel. "Turn over for me?" His voice was harsh with the strain from waiting, but it was a question nonetheless.

Sam's eyes opened, passion glazed and droopy. "Huh? Turn...?" he licked his lips, slowly starting to turn, only to stop part way over as he looked back at Dean and licked his lips. "I - I'm," Sam dropped his gaze from Dean's, "go slow for me?" his gaze flickered up to meet and hold Dean's green gaze, "please?" he asked, before turning the rest of the way, hands gripping the bed sheets tightly in his hands, knuckles turning white as he braced himself, muscles tense, face buried in the pillow.

Dean nodded, running his hands up and down Sam's ass, his nostrils flaring at the thought of being inside him, of breaching him. "Just keep telling me that... to slow me," he ground out, forcing himself to do just that, slow down. Pulling Sam's ass cheeks apart, he slowly worked a finger inside him. "Don't fight this... don't fight this, relax..."

Feeling the intrusion, Sam tensed even more, throwing his head back, he gasped in a breath, eyes squeezed tightly closed. At Dean's words, Sam nodded and tried to relax, tried to fight back the panic that gripped his chest, made his heart hammer loudly in his own ears, his palms sweat as he gripped the sheets tightly. Blowing out a breath, Sam breathed in slowly and bit his lip.

Dean's chest rose and fell as he tried to move slowly, his cock aching as he watched his finger disappear inside his innocent. In and out, until he bent down and licked the puckered skin around his finger. Collecting spit, he pushed his tongue inside with his finger, wanting to get Sam wet enough that he wouldn't hurt him. He pulsed his tongue and moved in and out, his finger searching for Sam's special place.

Small sounds broke from Sam's throat, whimpers and groans, loud gasps and pants of air as he tried to get used to the feel of having something inside of him, then relaxing into it, the burn starting to dissipate and die away. When Sam felt Dean's warm wet tongue lick against him there, he gasp in a breath nearly belly crawling away from him with the shock of it. "Oh my God..." eyes open wide, Sam panted and moaned. His cock starting to ache again, Sam found himself grinding into the bed as Dean's tongue and finger worked his ass. "Oh God..." Sam moaned softly, his hips thrusting, back arching, then suddenly he was seeing white as pleasure exploded through his body. "Aahuug!!" Sam panted hard, chest rising and falling rapidly with his breathing, hips grinding hard against the bed.

Each sound of pleasure from Sam had Dean one step closer to being unable to fight the need to take him. He was so fucking hard it hurt, but he fought it, wetting his innocent, opening him up. Another time, another place, he might have the time to get Sam so worked up he'd be asking for his cock up his ass, but he couldn't wait now.

Lifting up, he knelt between Sam's legs, aligning his cock to his hole. Desperately, he looked around, then grabbed a strawfilled pillow, and lifting Sam, shoved it under his belly, and realigned himself, groaning as his tip ground against Sam's wet hole. He stroked himself, then started to work his cock inside Sam, leaning over him, crooning in his ear about how well he was doing. "Breath... it'll be over... breath... oh God," he closed his eyes. "Tell me slow."

Sam licked his lips, harsh breaths leaving him, small whimpers tearing from his throat. "Ahuug..." Sam squirmed, grinding his cock against the bed, the pillow. His breaths panted out as he breathed like Dean told him to, eyes wide, hands tangled in the sheets that he held in a white knuckled grip. Sam pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring as he breathed deep and shook his head. "Nooo," his voice a strained whisper, "Do - do what you did a minute ago.... Ahhh... aches.... Dean..." Sam turned his head, catching sight of Dean's hand, he released the sheets and slid his hand over, grasping Dean's. "Go slow!" he begged in a rush of breath, his hips gyrating against the bed and pillow, squirming under Dean as he sought the friction he needed.

"Slow yes.. going slow... going slow Sam," he repeated like a mantra, though he had an iron grip on Sam's hips and he was shoving himself inside, one inch at a time. Once he was fully sheathed in Sam's heat, the urge to fuck became almost unbearable. He lifted up, moved slowly, sweat dripping from his forehead. Angling his thrusts, he pumped slowly, seeking... searching... wanting to find that spot like Sam asked him. "Tell me when it's right... oh God Sam... tell me."

Sam bit his lip as Dean pushed slowly inside. It wasn't as bad as the first time, wasn't near as bad, but there was still a burn, an ache and it made him want to pull away, to tense up. Sam lifted his head, shaking it, "I - I can't it-" he sucked in a breath, then held it, face contorted in pain, "Stop!" he started to move, to squirm, and then he froze as his lips parted, eyes widening, "Oh God, Dean! Right - right there... " Sam's fingertips clawed at the bed, as he lowered his forehead against the sheets, breathing heavily.

Stop. The word reverberated in the knight's head even though he wasn't able to. Not completely. And then Sam did a reversal, telling him he was getting it right. One hand flat on the thin matress, bracing his weight, Dean angled his body some more and started to grind down into Sam's ass. So hot, so good when Sam squeezed around him like that. "So fucking good, Sam... need you," groaning he tilted his head back as a shudder ran through him. Need started to pulse in his cock, blood pounding at his temples. "Let me fuck you now... let me."

Sam's breath left him in a gasp as he arched and writhed under Dean. Sam nodded, "Yeah - yeah, okay.... oh God...." he whined, grinding his hips against the bed. In desperation, Sam pushed his hips up, quickly plunging a hand down between himself and the bed and wrapped his hand around his hard weeping cock, pumping hard, tugging on his aching cock. Low groans and unintelligible sounds broke from Sam's throat as he tried to find the right speed and friction he needed, his hips thrusting his cock into his fist, neck arched back, lips parted.

That was all Dean needed to hear. He started to fuck Sam, each thrust a little harder, ramming himself a little deeper, moving a little faster. "Oh God, that's it Sammy," he leaned down and whispered into his ear. "Love how you feel around me, so fucking tight, so perfect. Take more of me... all of me," he pulled out and buried himself inside Sam to the balls. A white light hit him between the eyes as pleasure rolled through him. "Oh God." He did it again, and again, until all he could think of was the pleasure, and Sam... his Samuel.

Sam gasped out his breaths, mewls and whines sounding deep in his throat mixing with the moans and groans that bubbled from his lips. He nodded, thrusting into his fisted hand. "Aah! Dean..." Sam cried out, pleading, needing.

Rising up onto his knees, Dean pulled Sam up, never leaving his body. One hand around Sam's cock now, the other cupping his face as he kissed him, Dean started to thrust, stroking Sam's cock, claiming every part of him, all of him... his innocent... made only for him. As he pumped and ground his hips, sounds started breaking out of the back of his throat, mixing with Sam's. He didn't give a damn if they could be heard outside, all he knew was that he needed this, and Sam needed it, and there was nothing more perfect in this world... nothing, especially after the darkness they'd encountered.

Sam's hand fell away from his cock as Dean took over, his head falling back on Dean's shoulder as his hips thrust into Dean's hand then arched back toward Dean's cock filling him. "Oh God... Dean... Dean!" Then Dean was kissing him, swallowing up the sounds that tore from his throat, that he couldn't seem to stop making if he tried. Pleasure flooded his body, the ache between his legs grew, making him want more. He couldn't hold still if it was asked of him, he was lost in the sensations, the bucking and grinding of his hips and ass, the feel of Dean's lips against his. Sam reached up, curling an arm around Dean's neck, holding him tight as he reached back with his other hand, fingertips gripping Dean's side, his hip.

Then Sam was shouting into Dean's mouth as heat pooled low in his groin and his balls drew up painfully tight. Sam's eyes opened wide even as they kissed, before he squeezed them tightly closed. Sam arched his back, sending himself harder down on Dean's cock, his dick thusting into his knights hand as the first shot of cum left him.

"Yes... fuck yes..." Dean groaned, his hand coated with Sam's essence at the same time he started to come hard deep inside him. "Fuck... Sam," he thrust again, a few more times, waves of intense heat searing him as he filled up his innocent, gave him everything he had. It took several minutes for the pleasure/pain to ease, to release it's absolute grip on him. "Oh God," Dean tried to catch his breath as he kissed Sam slowly, releasing his cock and carefully moving out of his body before turning Sam completely around. He licked Sam's lips, tasting salt and Sam on them. "Perfect." Kissing him fiercely, he let him go and searched his face.

Sam tried to kiss back, tried to speak, but his eyelids were heavy, his body drained of energy, spent. He looked at Dean through heavy lidded eyes. "I did," he swallowed, still trying to catch his breath, "I did better." His hand slid up Dean's side to rest on his shoulder. He licked his lips and nodded, "Let's take a nap now."

"You did more than better," he pulled him into his arms and laughed, his entire body shaking. "Nap... you're picking up habits from your damnable cat." He'd noticed sex made his innocent very drowsy. "Let's get you dressed and give the nice people their house back, hmm? You can sleep on the ride back." Opening space between them, he quickly used the sheet to clean them up, and started to reach for their clothes.

Sam reached a hand out to stop Dean, get his attention. He shook his head, a faint blush stealing over his features. "We can't just-" he bit his lip, "I mean we -" Sam looked down at the bed, then back up at Dean. "We should replace this." He shook his head, "It's not right." When he thought Dean was about to argue he added quickly, "What if it were me? What if this were my home? My bed? You think that old woman has all those children herself? They're probably orphans like me. What if some knight had done this to my bed, would you want them to leave me to it?" Sam asked him, biting his lip.

"Samuel, we have not 'ruined' their bed. The linens can be washed, or she'll throw a new one over them." He started to get dressed. "I am not getting them a new bed, Sam, there is nothing wrong with this one." His innocent was so damned softhearted. "And before you ask, no, we cannot keep them... any of them," he pointed to the door. "They're not pets." Having dressed himself, he brought Sam his breeches.

Sam took his pants and started to get dressed, but he continued to give Dean looks that said how much he disagreed, that he thought they should at least replace the linens, something. "You know, they are probably not well off, a coin or two for their trouble then?" Sam offered what he thought was a great compromise, as he pulled his tunic over his head.

Dean grunted, tying Sam's britches into place more out of habit than need these days. "Open your hand." Finding the small pouch hanging from his belt, he poured some coins into Sam's hand. "You may use them to do with as you wish. I'll give you the same amount each month, don't waste it all in one place." Grasping his wrist, he pulled him close, "let's go home."

Sam nodded, curling his fingers over the coins in his hand, before he pressed against his knight. "Okay." he agreed softly, then stifled a yawn, though the blush that crept out onto his cheeks was hard to miss.

As they walked out, Sam made a beeline for the owners of the house, appologising profusly and telling them that his lordship had not felt well, that had been the reason for the sudden intrusion- It wasn't a total lie - he then proceeded to give the woman a few of the coins that Dean had given him, once more begging her forgiveness, as well as tweeking the noses of some of the smaller children who stood near them.

"I'm feeling VERY WELL right now," Dean bragged out loud, his men giving knowing looks and smirking silently.

Peter thumped Sam on the arm, "Good job lad. A happy Lord Winchester... is a happy castle," he nodded. When the innocent put Dean into a foul mood, it was very difficult on the staff.

Sam rolled his eyes heavenward and huffed out a breath, a deep stain coloring his cheeks and making it's way down his neck. "Hang a banner next time," he hung his head and grumbled under his breath as he walked toward Dean's horse.

Laughing, Dean smacked Sam's ass, then hefted him up and onto his horse's back. He followed him on, pulled him close. "Sleep if you want now, I'll keep you safe."

Sam sighed, leaning back against Dean and closed his eyes. "Let's not ever do that again, m'kay?" Sam licked his lips, "The cottage, I mean, not the...." he cleared his throat and smiled, blushing again.

"Next time we'll find a nice meadow, or a tree. The men will have our backs," he smiled, knowing it wasn't at all what his innocent wanted to hear. Not at all.

Sam's mouth fell open but then he clamped it closed. He'd played this game before with Christiana, not about sexual things of course, but the 'one up me' game, sure. Sam closed his eyes and smiled softly, "Why do we need the men? I would think you would be able to protect me with your big sword. Mayhap we could find a lake or soft grassy clearing?" He grinned wider feeling as though he had won.

Dean's shoulders shook. "Because while my big sword is busy pleasing you, theirs will be free to protect us. At a lake, in a grassy clearing, on a parpet, in the gardens, anywhere you want. Just want." Kissing the side of Sam's throat, he spurred the horse on.

(A/N: Isn't the new story banner stunning? *Hugs* SPN artists on LJ that give us such eye candy. Our thanks to inanna_maat.

Dragon Spell 5/? [NC-17] Dean/Sam, SPN Xover Dragonriders of Pern

2009-12-04T18:21:47Z

Banner made for us by the highly talented incomparable inanna_maat

Title: Dragon Spell
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) & brimstonegold
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: SPN X-over Dragonriders of Pern (by Ann McCaffrey)
Ratings/Warnings: NC 17, some non-con/rape, hurt/comfort, fantasy world, Wincest/incest
Summary: Snooping around in his father's storage locker, Sam touches something he shouldn't and gets sucked into a world where dragonriders must protect their world from a continuous threat of threafall. Dean follows and finds Sam has lost his memories. Until they get out of this mess, they have to ‘make like the natives.’

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

"Ah... Um." Dean untangled their fingers, trying not to look at Sammy's face, afraid of what he'd see in his eyes. "You already know me. You just need to... remember." His stomach started to tense and he became too aware of Sam's scent mixed with leather. "I said cut it out, Ithiel," he snapped. "Aren't they supposed to listen?"

Sam really didn't want to release the rider's hand but did. The man had been through a lot, he told himself. Watching a dragonrider die, suddenly being impressed by the same dragon who's rider passed. Surely feeling Ithiel's sadness and wounds and now this. The man might have a companion.

{{He doesn't,}} Merith said absently.

"How do you know me? I don't recall ever meeting you before," Sam said. He smiled a little and looked over at the two dragons. "As for them listening?" Sam was about to explain the independence of dragons when he realized what the dragonrider meant. "He isn't intentionally antagonizing you. It's part of the bond you have with your dragon. He can't keep his feelings for Merith from you, not when they're so close together. The only reason B'tan and I...we never...all we ever did was kiss."

"I know you because you're my... hold on a minute." Dean's eyes widened slightly. "Lemme get this straight... your dragon likes my dragon, so... you liked my dragon's rider, B'tan, and now you think you like me." Dean ran his hand over his face. "No, what you're trying to say is you loved B'tan because of them, and now you're sad..." Only Dean suddenly had this crazy urge to nuzzle Sam's neck. Sam, his brother, so not happening. "Can you explain it again?" He blew out a hot breath.

Sam found himself brushing back a lock of D'ean's hair from near his temple. He laughed softly at the poor new rider. He reminded himself the man was basically a weyrling. These sorts of issues didn't arise for new riders for close to a turn until their dragons matured, and by then, they had learned the intimacies of the dragon/rider relationship.

"Everything between you and your dragon...there are no secrets. Strong emotions are entangled and it isn't always apparent whose emotions it might originate from. You would have learned this, learned how to manage this, if you had impressed Ithiel when Ithiel was a dragonet. I'm sorry if you don't find me...acceptable. We can keep our distance from each other, but the longing will be there and only through contact with each other will that longing be eased. As I said, B'tan and I never did more than kiss. Were we in love? We were working on it. We spent time together, got to know each other. Neither one of us were necessarily interested in a male-male relationship, but," Sam shrugged helplessly, "with those two," he jerked his head toward the dragons, "the feelings of attraction increased and we decided we would try it. Assuming Ithiel won Merith. That's why we never slept together though. In case Ithiel failed to win Merith. But I think it would have happened anyway. Eventually. At least once a sevenday we would share a bed. The talk of the weyr was that we were already lovers. Truly, we have--had-- only been together four or five months. Ithiel is only a turn and a half in age, so it wasn't until he matured that Merith started having an interest in him."

{{Liar. I merely waited for him to grow old enough. I have been 'interested' in him for over a turn. And of all the bronze riders, B'tan was the best match for you anyhow. And you did more than kiss.}}

{We never had sex.}

{{But you did more than kiss.}}

{And if D'ean decides to kiss me, I'm certain D'ean can draw his own conclusions as to how far B'tan and I got. I don't need to spell it out for him,} Sam admonished her.

Dean wondered how could he be queasy about all this and at the same time 'get it.'?

{{Because you want it too, Mine.}}

"The hell I do." Dean blinked, surprised as the words came from his lips instead of a mental thought. He cleared his throat. "You ... slept with a guy, but didn't have... sex... but you wanted to and now..." No, no fucking way he was going there out loud. He'd think on it later. "Okay so, whoever's dragon gets with yours, you'll have feelings for them and... This is getting confusing. Merith wants Ithiel, WHY would she get with another dragon?"

"No, I won't have feelings for whoever's dragon flies Merith. I will have sex with them. It is the way of things. Typically the queen's rider and the bronze rider will stay together, but not always, particularly if either of the riders already have a chosen. B'tan was offering me that protection and argument in the event Curanth beats out Ithiel. And it isn't a matter of what Merith wants. When she rises, it turns into instinct. The dragon that is able to catch her, therefore the strongest, will mate with her. There are times who wins can be influenced and with B'tan and I already together, our bond would help Ithiel that much more."

Maybe he should be hoping Merith did get with another dragon, thought Dean.

{{No. I'm going to fly Merith, and you'll fly Sam.}}

Dean flushed a deep red. "I need a fucking drink."

Sam smiled at the man's embarrassment. "I'm sorry, this has to be terribly hard for you." Sam pushed himself off of the couch and went over to a trunk by the wall. When he opened it, he felt a pang of loss. B'tan's clothes were still there, as was a set of his own. Likely B'tan's clothes had not been taken because Sam's was mixed in with them. He extracted the wineskin and cups from the side compartment and brought them over, pouring a cup for D'ean and handing it to him. "Here."

"Thanks," Dean took a few long gulps, wishing it was beer but anything would do. "You two, he was your... whatever." Dean didn't even know what to call B'tan.

"He was my friend," Sam said softly.
"Look Sam, you're my broth... I think of you as a brother." Okay, that had to sound nuts too. "I mean, I think I know you. Maybe if you look at me real close, you'll remember... something?" Hopeful green eyes locked with his brother's slightly slanted hazel eyes.

Sam poured himself a cup of wine and refilled D'ean's. "I've suffered no injuries that have damaged my memories." Looking over that strong gorgeous body he gave something of an embarrassed smile. "Believe me, I think I would have noticed you, or certainly I would remember you. You're not from Ista. I've never been anywhere but Ista. Even if you visited, regardless that I have rank now, before I was a drudge. I worked in the kitchen sometimes. I worked the fields. I gathered herbs for the healer. S'rance never let me get close to anyone." He looked into those beautiful green eyes. "I'm sorry, D'ean. You must have me confused with someone else, perhaps someone in your hold that was fostered out when they were young?"

Deanie appeared from between, chattering a warning.

"Oh fecking hell," Sam muttered. "Please, D'ean, please, would you kiss me, so when he arrives he cannot deny I have an apparent relationship developing with you?"

"Now who sounds crazy?" He took a step back. "What are your talking about, and is that Merith's... baby?"

Confusion flit over Sam's face. "Of course not. That's Deanie, my fire lizard." He glanced toward the door. He wished now that he had shut it. He could hear S'rance's boots on the stairs. He was almost there. Sam's stomach knotted.

When he looked back at Sam, he could see his agitation, recognized it. He grabbed Sam by the arms, drawing him close. "Tell me what's wrong. Now."

{{S'rance approaches. Curanth's rider. He wants to fly Sam too.}}

"He's not fucking flying Sam," Dean ground out.

When Dean pulled him close, Sam grasped at that as acceptance and permission. He wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling him against his body and kissed him.

Shell-shocked, Dean instinctively started to kiss back, sliding his tongue past Sam's and into the wet heat of his mouth. A slight moan broke from him as his hand slid behind Sam's neck and he moved his mouth over his brother's.

Sam opened his mouth without hardly thinking. Shards this man could kiss. He responded with his own moan and felt his cock take an interest. It had usually taken a little bit of making out before either he or B'tan reacted, but there was something about this man and he felt the heat rising in his own body. He ran his hands up and down the muscular back of the rider.

The sound of boots hitting the stone ground brought Dean back to earth. He pulled away quickly. "Oh God..."

Sam made a definite sound of complaint when D'ean broke their kiss.

Dean was wiping the wetness off his lower lip when a dark haired dragonrider came in. "Don't you fucking knock?"

{{That's S'rance}}

{I got that.}

S'rance's blue eyes took the entire scene in, his mouth flattening into an angry straight line. He took a few long strides into the room, as if he owned the weyr. "You have no right."

"To...?" Reading the guy's aggressive body language, Dean took a couple of long strides himself, meeting him in the middle of the room. "Right to what?"

"Him. Sam. He's mine."

"Your what?" The chattering from behind him got on Dean's nerves. "Keep that lizard quiet," he snapped, without looking back at Sam. "He's your what?"

"I am not yours!" Sam growled stepping forward. "You still can not accept I hold rank. I will now always hold rank over you. You have no claim on me!"

"I will always hold rank over you. You were born under my boot. You writhed under me, and you screamed under my whip. Nothing chang--"

It was like a vein burst in Dean's temple. "Sonova..." He laid into the dragonrider, no holds barred, punching him in the face, then again into his gut, before the guy ever reacted to protect himself. And when S'rance started to, they went at it full out, Dean cursing as he tried to get a choke hold on the man.

{{Mine, you are hurt... don't fight him, not now.}}

{You... go make love, I got this.}

Dean took a hit to the jaw, and tasted blood.

{{I don't think so.}}

The pleasure Sam felt at seeing D'ean laying into S'rance was almost sinful. D'ean was a collection of contradictions, but there was no doubt he was ready to tear S'rance into as many pieces as possible. It was also clear this emotion was coming from D'ean, not Ithiel. As if on cue, he heard the rumble in Ithiel's throat. He knew Curanth would not be far if S'rance was fighting.

{Merith, keep Ithiel and Curanth under control,} Sam ordered. {Ithiel is already injured. I will not tolerate him being injured any worse. I will handle these two.}

"Stop!" Sam thundered and pulled Dean off of S'rance and stepped between them. "You entered this weyr without permission," he snarled at S'rance. "You bait a new rider and one whose dragon is in mourning and injured. He is my chosen. I am his. You have no claim. Even if Curanth flies Merith, you will still have no claim. Leave or I will have you in shackles, threadfall be damned." Sam's eyes fairly blazed and Merith's outraged bugle echoed in the cavern.

Dean's jaw pulsed. He wished Sam had stayed out of this, that he'd have let Dean show the guy who was under whose fucking boots.

"This is not over." S'rance's eyes blazed just as hotly, as he locked gazes with Dean.

"Oh it so fucking is." Dean pushed him roughly toward the door.

Ithiel roared with anger and started to stand. {{Tell yours to leave,}} he called out to Curanth, who was flying in circles and only not dropping to the ledge because of Merith's command.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," S'rance answered, turning and leaving, slamming the door shut behind him.

Dean's chest heaved as he turned to Sam. "What's the matter with you? Didn't you hear the shit he was talking about you? Goddammit, you should have let me..."

Sam turned from D'ean and walked back to the wineskin and poured himself a full cup of wine. His hand shook as he downed it all. "It was the truth," Sam said coldly. "He is the Lord Holder's son at Ista Hold. Where I lived. They took me in when I was orphaned when my mother died in a fire and my father died in a hunting accident soon after. Shortly before I was found on Search, he gave me just punishment for disobeying his orders. Once here, before I had impressed...He took me against my will. I was going to leave but Merith hatched early and we impressed. I couldn't leave then. I had hoped he would not impress and he would be forced back to Ista Hold. I was not so lucky and he impressed one of the largest bronze dragons at the weyr. The larger the bronze, the more likely it is they will succeed in flying a queen when she rises."

Dean thought he'd been angry before, but as Sam casually told him the nightmare his life had been since his arrival, Dean became livid. Even if the history hadn't really happened, it was real to Sam. As for the things S'rance had done to him... Dean wanted to shout, to demand to know why Sam hadn't taken the guy out. Goddamit Sam knew how to fight... to protect himself... but this wasn't that Sam. He rubbed his eyes, trying to gain control over his emotions which he realized were unsettling Ithiel.

Sam crossed the distance to Merith and leaned against her chest, absently stroking her hide. Deanie landed on his shoulder and crooned into his ear. "You had full rights to attack him as he was in your weyr uninvited. He is," Sam sighed, "of higher rank than you, technically, though you can go against his orders if those orders are out of line. B'tan became quite adept at it. Regardless of rank, if you attack him without justified provocation, you will be punished. I may be able to intercede on your behalf, I may not. I apologize for claiming we have a relationship when one does not exist. Forgive me," Sam said quietly.

"No. That's fine." Deep furrows marred his forehead. {S'rance is the walking dead.}

{{No. You have to listen to Sam, you will be punished.}}

{Let them try.} His jaw pulsing, Dean came up to Sam, put his hand his brother's back, then pulled him into a hug, brushing the chattering lizard thing away. "It won't happen again, Sammy. Not ever. I'll take care of this." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to prevent himself from imagining what had happened to Sam. It was beyond anything he'd imagined having to deal with, and the fact that Sam seemed to be taking it in stride was damned weird.

{{He is more troubled by this than B'tan was,}} Ithiel told Merith. {{He loves Sam.}}

{{Sam certainly has his own feelings of attraction to him. He has only so reacted to Selina before her death when she 'fell' down the stairs. I like your D'ean,}} Merith confirmed and settled down next to Ithiel, nuzzling at him lovingly. {{I am sorrowed that you lost B'tan, but would have been lost myself if you had gone between.}}

{{I am glad I stayed. B'tan is... was wise.}} Ithiel fought the waves of sadness, instead intertwining his long neck with the black queen's, taking the comfort that she offered.

D'ean's touch, his hug and promise, nearly broke Sam's control. He didn't even care that the man called him Sammy. There was something about him and somehow it seemed so right that D'ean would protect him. It made no sense. He didn't know the man, yet a part deep inside him protested that he did. He clutched at the man tightly. "Leave him be. He can do nothing to me without risking the wrath of the weyr. Merith is the hope of Pern and no harm can befall her. If he tries to hurt me, Merith would tell the others. If my... friend, Selina, had impressed she would be alive now, but there is no way to prove S'rance had her killed. Curanth denies S'rance did, but I'm certain of it. Now I have put you in danger. If he can arrange an accident for you without it being tied back to him, he will. Take care of what you eat and drink. He tried to kill his father with poison. B'tan knew and accepted these risks. I had no right to put them on you without warning." Why did he feel so safe in this stranger's arms?

"Thanks for the warning." Dean gave a tight smile, still holding Sam , but forcing himself to loosen his grip and not take his anger at S'rance out by freaking squeezing Sam to death. "I can take care of myself." Next he sent reassurances and calming thoughts to his dragon, giving him a worried look. "Glad Merith is here for him."
"I'm glad he's here for Merith. I think if he had gone between, she might have too." He couldn't help but want to hold D'ean even tighter to him at that thought, but he felt Dean relax his hold and reluctantly Sam loosened his own.

Finally letting Sam go, but keeping one hand on his back, he started walking him back from the ledge to the living room area. "Let's finish that drink. And maybe talk a little more, hmm? You always liked that, talking." Giving him a real smile this time, he moved his hand to Sam's shoulder and pushed lightly down to have him sit.

Sam let D'ean guide him back to the couch. S'rance's sheer audacity shook him, reminding him that S'rance still wanted him in that way. He had tolerated the leering because he really didn't have a choice. Curanth was an aggressive bronze but Merith, like any queen, could quell him. Sometimes even the weyrwoman's queen interceded. The older riders did tend to try to protect Sam from S'rance's unwanted advances. Sam had kept himself distant from most people because he feared S'rance would hurt them. Or arrange for them to be hurt as he had with Selina. Though he hardly knew D'ean, something inside him told him that it would wound him deeply to lose D'ean. How crazy was that. He had only met the man a few minutes ago!

He accepted the cup of wine D'ean handed him and was glad to see his hands had stopped shaking. Mostly. "I really don't talk much. I'm used to being alone. I talk when I teach, of course. And I talked with B'tan. Otherwise," Sam shrugged miserably, "I don't want to get anyone else killed so I keep to myself. I have Merith and Deanie, so I'm not lonely."

Deanie landed on the arm of the couch beside Sam and studied D'ean, measuring him. He chirped questioningly.

"Deanie? That THING?" He pointed at what he now had been told was a firelizard, and not a dragonet. "All the names you could have given it and you name it after ME?"

{{Calm down, Mine. He loves the firelizard, it is a compliment.}}

{It is a LIZARD...it can't be a compliment} Dean shot back to Ithiel.

"He is not a thing! Without fire lizards there wouldn't be dragons!" Sam snapped. "Fire lizards are what the first ones used to make dragons! He may not be intelligent enough to talk, but he understands mental images, and he can send me mental images. He was my first friend. Ever. And he did warn me S'rance was coming. He's been my protector and savior as well as my friend." Sam glared at Dean. "Why would you think I would name him after you? I don't even know you! I just liked the name. Thought it kind of fit because I had a feeling he was going to be a pain in my ass." He gave Dean a cool look. "Maybe it's a common trait among Deans."

{Just 'how' does he mean that?} Dean asked his dragon.

{{Exactly how you think he means it}} Ithiel smirked.

Dean glowered. "Bitch." Lifting his cup, he took a few deep swallows. If he let himself think of Sam being stalked by that rapist, if he thought about what that man had done to him, he was gonna go fucking nuts, so he tried to put that out of his mind, for the moment.

Deanie hopped onto Sam's shoulder and glared at Dean over the top of Sam's head.

"Stop, that Deanie," Sam scolded.

Deanie's sinuous neck lowered his head until he was eye to eye with Sam. He chirped in an innocent, questioning tone.

"You know very well what I mean. Don't give me that dung you little jerk," Sam said. "Don't irritate Ithiel's rider. I don't care if he was rude and insulting to you. You two will have to learn to get along."

With an indignant petulant chirp, Deanie launched himself from Sam's shoulder and went between. Sam smirked a little.

"Are you ahhh... you know, happy here?" Dean rubbed his eyes, not even sure how Sam could be, but maybe hoping there was a little good in his life.

Tilting his head, Sam frowned at him. "I hated my life at Ista Hold. It's better here. It would probably be perfect if S'rance wasn't here. I would ask to go to another weyr, but they, Ista, won't accept the loss of a queen. It's a matter of some pride and envy that there is a young queen here. There have been requests from other weyrs to permit other bronze dragons to come when she rises. With the threadfall though, it may be quite difficult and Ista really wants the first clutch to come from dragons from this weyr."

Dean had started to put things together, and all of that actually made sense. {You better be careful, they're talking about finding Merith a bronze boyfriend from other places.}

{{What is a 'boyfriend'. You speak strangely, Mine.}}

Sam sipped more of the wine. He hadn't eaten and he was feeling the wine begin to go to his head a little. "I would have preferred to go to a hall. Be a harper or historian. I like to read and do research. If I had, I wouldn't have Deanie and certainly wouldn't have Merith. I think Deanie is one of the reasons they found me in the search. I can't imagine being without Merith of course. I would lose half of myself if I lost her. Before Selina died," Sam paused and chewed on his lip, "we were talking of being together. Having kids. Being normal. Well, at least as normal as the 'she-boy rider of the black dragon' could be." Although the weyrfolk had mostly all come to terms with a male rider of a queen, the holders didn't get it and he knew he was still referred to as such by some. It didn't generally bother him...much.

Complication after complication. How was Sam going to leave his dragon behind? Dean couldn't even dare think about leaving Ithiel, and was doing his best to mask his thoughts. So much of what Sam said echoed of their real past, Dean felt his heart constrict. Down to being forced to be a warrior though his interests lay in books, the desire for a normal life he could never have, and the loss of a woman he loved. His mouth tightened. "You loved her. I'm sorry," he patted Sam's thigh and pulled his hand back, brows furrowing. It was hard for him to understand all the relationships. Sam loved this Selina, but wanted to be with B'tan. He'd said something about shacking up with the guy, and he'd said it wasn't about love.

It was habit, sitting on this particular couch, in this particular room, drinking wine. Sam leaned against Dean without thinking, though he made no move other than seeking out that comfort of a body next to his. "I wish I could have a normal life. Eventually I'm going to end up 'weyrwoman,' though I guess it's been declared I'll be weyrman. Eventually there will be a new weyrleader and if it is S'rance..." Sam shook his head. "We won't stay. Another weyr will gladly take the young queen and they must promise me S'rance can not follow and that Curanth will not be permitted to attempt to fly her a second time."

"I don't understand why they don't make him leave, go to another weyr now." Dean put his arm along the back of the couch, behind Sam. He could see he was making Sam tense. "Let's forget about him for right now." He could find the answers to his questions elsewhere. "Look at me, are you sure nothing about me is... familiar?" he twisted around, moving closer to Sam. "The way I talk? The moves I used on... that you saw? Anything?"

Sam stared into D'ean's eyes. There almost seemed to be a desperation in them. "I'm sorry D'ean. I...I feel...something...between us. You confuse me," Sam admitted. "You embraced me when I came in. Then indicated no interest in me. Yet when you learned S'rance had taken me you were upset. You kissed me back. You attacked S'rance and then attempted to comfort me. It seemed right, your promise to protect me and keep me safe." Sam gave him a slight smile. "I am a big boy, you know. I can defend myself. S'rance is underhanded though and he has blind-sided me on a handful of occasions because of his ruthlessness, his fecking obsession with me, and because he has always held power over me. It seems like I should be stronger and better able to fight him, but I feel like a part of me is missing." Looking back into those eyes he shrugged helplessly. "You feel like...like you're part of what's missing. But D'ean, by the first egg, I don't know you. I would swear I have never once laid eyes on you before today."

He'd been afraid Sam would feel nothing, and some part of him had expected to feel sucker punched at a second denial of recognition. Now, as he let his breath out, Dean smiled. Progress. Yeah there was a ways to go, but this was a sign, a good one. "I am interested in you Sam, hella interested. Like a brother... a very good friend." A muscle in his jaw pulsed at the knowledge that Ithiel was giving him distinctly unbrotherly feelings, but he was sure he could fight those. "And I know you can protect yourself, doesn't mean that I won't be your back-up," he poked him in the chest.

Back-up? What did back-up mean? Sam wondered.

Dean stared a while longer in Sam's eyes, so familiar... he'd missed him so fucking much.

{{Hug him and get it over with, he doesn't bite.}}

{I don't want to confuse him.}

{{You're the one who is confused.}}

Dean took a deep breath. "You do know me, Sam. I know it doesn't make sense, and I know you think I'm nuts."

Sam locked his gaze with D'ean's and saw the longing in those green eyes and the sadness. If D'ean longed for him so fecking much, then why did he keep denying he did? Sam's eyes hardened a bit. "I don't need a brother, D'ean. I need a lover."

Pushing himself to his feet, Sam's head spun just a little at getting up so fast and he nearly fell back down onto the couch. He didn't want to go back to his empty weyr. He knew Merith wanted to stay with Ithiel and Ithiel needed her to stay with him. Yes the man was 'nuts', but if he was, then why did he feel like D'ean was familiar?

Sam grabbed the blanket on the nearby chair and began walking unsteadily toward Merith. If D'ean didn't want him, Merith did. He would curl up with Merith, mourn the loss of B'tan, of Selina, and try to forget the nightmares he had of the rape he had experienced and the way S'rance had made him come.

Dean followed, lips pressed into a line. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the two dragons nuzzling, and Sam running from him, looking like he was about to fall against the dragons any moment. "You never could hold your liquor. Do you need me to walk you to your... your weyr?"

{{He's sleeping here.}} Ithiel informed his rider.

That was a relief, Dean would rather be able to watch over Sam than have him leave anyway. He'd thought the blanket might be for the cold air outside, if Sam had intended on going on dragonback. "Sam, Ithiel says you're staying. You know there's a bed." He stretched his hand out, "come on, lets get you to bed. It's been... a rough day."

Sam snorted. "Of course I know there's a bed. B'tan and I used to sleep in it," he snapped. "It's your bed now. You use it."

{{You are being petulant, my Impressed,}} Merith told him.

{I can't sleep in that bed alone. I won't.}

{{Ithiel, can you not convince yours that mine needs his company? My Impressed worked hard today loading firestone and fighting thread. He will be sore in the morning, and that will be made even worse if he insists on sleeping on the ledge with me. Does yours not understand my impressed needs companionship? He mourns, he is scared, he is tired, he is confused.}}

Dean had been about to snap right back at Sam when Ithiel interjected, transmitting Merith's message exactly and emphasizing it was the queen's wish that Dean help rather than hinder Sam. Though he didn't give a fuck that it was the queen dragon's request, Dean did give a damn about his brother's feelings, his pain, his suffering. {Thank Merith for telling me what he's going through, sensitivity is not my strong suit.}

{{Yes, we are in agreement.}}

{Bitch.}

{{I am male.}}

Refusing to answer his dragon, Dean reached Sam and closed his arms around him. "Come to bed. You won't be alone, and I know how to help you with your tight muscles. Maybe you'll remember something else when I give you a massage, hmm? Come Sam, I'm sorry I'm confusing you, or hurting you. I swear to God, it's the last thing I want."

{{It would appear more ... sincere... if you swore by the First Egg.}}

{I AM sincere.} Sighing, Dean and forced past his teeth, "and by the First Egg"

{{There's nothing to feel foolish over, everyone swears by the First Egg.}}

Sam was debating about where best he could lay down without disturbing Ithiel and Merith. When she was young it hadn't been uncommon for him to join her on the ledge, resting his head on her haunch, scratching her and just giving her loving attention until she fell asleep. In some respects he had done it for himself, to simply be able to love something that no one could take away. To feel her silky hide, to feel the depth of love she felt for him and he felt for her. Deanie would get jealous and Sam would have to scratch his eye ridges until Deanie was satisfied he had gotten his fair share of Sam's attention, then the three of them would fall asleep there. He still did it occasionally, but not really since he and B'tan had been struggling to find the middle ground and make their own relationship work. In part, Sam knew B'tan hoped one day to be weyrleader and in part, B'tan did it because of the love Ithiel had for Merith. For Sam, it was keeping S'rance off his back and also for the sake of his dragon. And he enjoyed the companionship B'tan offered. Both had tried to find that chemistry between themselves, chemistry that did not involve their dragons and while Sam hadn't been sure real love, romantic love, would ever truly develop between them, kinship certainly had. The wine was surely contributing, but B'tan's absense seemed to grow more painful. He should be used to loss and pain he told himself.

Dean's arms closing around him startled him and he froze. He was suddenly back in the hold, his back suffering the lashing and then S'rance was up against him, rubbing against him. Spilling his seed across Sam's back. Sam reacted without thought. His arms weren't bound this time dammit and there was no knife at Selina's throat because she was already dead. He elbowed Dean sharply in the ribs, spun and punched him across the jaw, fury in his eyes.

Merith's head snapped up and away from Ithiel and she reached out with her front leg, pulling Sam back. {{Sshh, beloved. It is not him. It is not him. You are safe. It was D'ean's arms not his. You are safe. D'ean would never hurt you, never do such a thing to you. He loves you.}}

"Mmph." Dean was knocked back a step. Somehow, he kept his temper in check and prevented himself from punching right back and wrestling his brother to the ground. Sometimes that was what it took for them to understand each other, but he sensed this wasn't one of those times. He moved his thumb over the corner of his mouth, tasting blood. "You used to be better with your 'words.'" He shot a glare at the two dragons who'd given him misinformation. "Just a simple 'get away' would have done." He gave Sam a look and decided to leave him on the ledge with the dragons.

Sam blinked, Merith's words reaching through his panic. "Dean?" Sam said, slurring the name into D'ean's non-rider name. He saw D'ean's look and Sam took a few steps toward him. "I'm sorry! I didn't...I didn't...it wasn't you. I thought--I was back there, and now I could fight and..." He hadn't cried since Selina had died. He would wake up from his nightmares but that was sweat on his face, not tears. It couldn't be tears because he was a fecking grown man and the rider of a queen dragon and it just couldn't be tears.

But there were tears running down his face now.

He sank to his knees as everything seemed to catch up with him. "Don't leave me, too," he whispered.

In two strides, Dean was lifting Sam up and taking him in his arms again. "Never leave you Sammy, I never would." Liar, you'll leave him when the hellhounds come. Dean pushed the thoughts aside. "Come on, let's get you to bed. I'll take care of you, I always do. Just... if you don't want me to do something, 'tell' me, 'kay?"
Sam clutched at D'ean. "Yeah. Okay. I'm sorry."

{{He didn't mean to hit you.}}

{I know.}

{{You love him.}}

{Course.}

{{Then tell him.}}

Dean guided Sam to the bed, pushed him down and started to help him take off the boots. "You've had too much to drink, and then... all the rest of this. You need sleep." Without asking permission, he started helping Sam get his clothes off, noticing again how good leather smelled on his brother.

Sam let D'ean do the work. He was still so tied up in knots, and with the wine, he didn't think he would have bothered to undress. He wasn't really sure his fingers would have worked well enough for him to. It felt good to strip out of the leather and just have his undershorts on. He rather wished they were back in his weyr and had the hot pool to bathe in, but he was really too tired and he probably wouldn't have bathed before going to bed anyhow. He did his best to help the man get the leather riding gear off but finally decided he was only hindering and let D'ean do it.

He practically collapsed into the bed. Fresh sheets. There were fresh sheets. He was grateful for that, grateful he didn't have to smell B'tan and have yet one more reminder of what he had lost. He rolled so his back was at the edge of the mattress. He didn't think he could handle D'ean behind him. He was already upset and suspected the dreams would be bad anyhow. Having D'ean with his dick pressed against his backside would not help. He watched D'ean, hopeful the man planned on joining him and even more hopeful D'ean would let him wrap his arms around him, hold him close, and fall asleep.

Dean didn't know whether to be offended, perplexed or both. One minute Sam wanted him close, the next he was punching him out for being too close, then begging him not to leave, and now rolling to the other end of the bed as if trying to get away from him. He was raped. Yeah, the confused reactions made sense when he took that into consideration, only he was trying so damned hard to forget that... forget it or he'd be searching every one these damned weyrs until he found S'rance and choked the life out of him.

{{Pern needs Curanth. Just help Sam, that will be enough. Love him.}}

{You'd make a great Hallmark card.}

{{What?}}

{You heard me.} Dean stripped off the tunic and loose pants, and was relieved to see he had something very much like shorts on under. Tossing the clothes onto a hook on the wall near the bed, he climbed in.

Sam was relieved when he saw D'ean undressing. Sleeping alone was not something he wanted tonight. He couldn't help but marvel at the man's body. Okay, maybe he wasn't really attracted to men, but man or woman alike would have to appreciate that body. He was almost disappointed when D'ean left his undershorts on.

"Sam, lay down on your stomach. I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear. Just... I'll make you feel good. Ithiel said your muscles are sore."

Chewing over D'ean's words, he finally decided they were innocent. He'd just been admiring the man's body and he was going to get bothered by having that same man behind him? There were no binding ropes here. If he didn't like it, D'ean said all he had to do was tell him to stop. But what did he plan on doing? Shards, yes, he was sore as hell. He usually helped load the firestone and fly threadfall, but they had loaded up twice as many bags as normal because of some problems at one of the other weyrs. They were loading up stone for their own dragons and the other weyrs as well. On top of loading them, he helped pass up the bags to the riders when they came to get re-supplied. He had worked fecking hard.

Slowly, Sam rolled onto his stomach and waited to see what the man had in mind. Even with the wine, he felt his muscles tense in anticipation. If the man even came close to touching his ass...

Moving closer, Dean carefully put his hands on Sam's shoulders, and started to rub his tight muscles. This was familiar ground, they'd worked out each others' kinks after difficult hunts and he knew exactly where Sam needed extra pressure, where he liked him to work his fingers to loosen the tight knots, and where he like to just be caressed.

Sam jumped a little as D'ean's hands touched his shoulders. He and B'tan had traded massages, so he relaxed a little when he recognized what D'ean intended. By the egg, this man knew exactly where to work on him, exactly where all the trouble areas were. He couldn't help the small groan of appreciation as D'ean worked out a particularly tough knot, one that B'tan always seemed to have trouble getting. This man got it loosened in just a few beats of a dragon's heart.

"Would be better if we had some of your 'lotion stuff.'" Yeah, he never admitted to stealing the ocasional lotion from the rare motel that would have it in the bathroom.

Lotion? Sam scowled a little. What was lotion? Maybe sweet oil like he put on Deanie's hide? He and B'tan used it sometimes if one of them was really sore. Like he was now. He sent the image to Deanie to retrieve it from the weyr.

Dean worked his way from Sam's shoulders down to his upper arms, feeling him tense, but ignoring it. "Just loosening you up, you'll sleep better, I promise."

Sam couldn't help the sudden clenching of his stomach as D'ean work his fingers deeply into the muscles of his biceps. It wouldn't take much for D'ean to take hold of his arm and ... no, there was no rope here. He tried to tell himself that but Merith's reassuring words only helped a little.

Dean felt Sam shudder under his hands, and frowned as the thought came into his mind, his brother's broad back and slim waist was real sexy. Muttering at himself to stop listening to Ithiel, he continued the massage, moving a little lower.

Deanie popped in from between and dropped the jar on the bed. He perched on the head of the bed, watching as D'ean worked on Sam's muscles. When Deanie heard Sam's soft moan, he chortled in approval.

"Good job," Dean patted the fire lizard's head, and then took the jar. Pouring a bit of the thick liquid over Sam's back, he started rubbing it all over, from shoulder to where his shorts started, warming him up, moving his hands over every inch of exposed skin, including his sides. "Ticklish right here," he announced, letting his middle finger slide into a particular groove between Sam's ribs, then moving on.

Sam jerked and bit back a complaining snort of laughter. How the shards did D'ean know...?

Though he was doing his best, Dean was quickly getting tired and his own injuries were hurting from stretching. "It would be easier if I sat on you. What do you think?" He leaned over and spoke near Sam's ear. "I'd never hurt you Sammy, if you believe anything that I say, believe that." He was trying real hard not to think about, not to demand to know where every last one of these new scars on his back were from. Instinctively, he already knew the answer to that. The past was the past, but the future would not hold one single new scar for Sam, not at the hands of that dragonrider.

{Ithiel,} Sam mentally called to D'ean's dragon, {is D'ean...would he?}

{{Loves you,}} Ithiel responded.

{{Trust him,}} Merith encouraged. {{You want him interested, do you not? He is not S'rance. And when Ithiel flies me, D'ean will fly you, will he not? Would you rather one of the others fly you instead?}}

After a moment longer of consideration he knew Merith was correct. Of all the bronze riders, D'ean was the first one he had ever felt a real connection with and he barely knew the man. The thought of D'ean kissing him sounded more attractive and comforting than he would have expected. He gave a nod. "Yeah, okay. You can. You can ...do anything. Just warn me if...you know, you want to do more than a massage."

"More than a massage, check." Dean held back a snort as he threw his leg over Sam, mounting his ass. "There will be no Xtreme massaging today, just relax, close your eyes, and sleep."

{{What is Xtreme massaging?}}

{Mind out of the gutter, it's not what you think.}

{{That's too bad.}}

Leaning forward, hands on Sam's shoulders, Dean started massaging him again. "Ever think the dragon voices in your head are gonna drive you mad?" He wasn't really asking, just wondering if he'd get used to having someone else in his business all the time.

{{You'd miss me.}}

Dean knew Ithiel hadn't said it, but he also meant he was missing B'tan. It was a theme, one that he understood... he understood loss.

"It's a little odd at first," Sam mumbled. "Someone always knowing what you're thinking, but I can't imagine not hearing her voice now. You'll get used to Ithiel."

"So I hear I gotta go to some classes or something and that you're the history and sword fighting teacher. Any way you can just, you know, catch me up on what I need to know, without my having to go to actual classes." As he rattled on, Dean wasn't expecting any responses, he was really just talking out loud and trying like hell to block out the waves of attraction suddenly hitting him. Like he really shouldn't be noticing how firm Sam's ass was under his, or how his muscles rippled under his touch, or how soft the hair at the nape of his neck felt. He really shouldn't wonder what would happen if he kissed him there.
Sam was really beginning to get distracted by D'ean's warm hands on his flesh and the way they roamed over his body. The oil softened the touch and even when D'ean was working out the tension, kneading hard at some knots, it still felt like an almost intimate caress. B'tan had always been a little hesitant to massage Sam too long, but D'ean seemed to be enjoying it as much as Sam was and it he thought maybe the rider would continue to work at his muscles until he had melted into a little puddle beneath D'ean. He was also getting distracted by the way the man rocked forward and back on his ass. His cock, in the meantime, was beginning to get interested.

"Mmm, depends," Sam said, his voice definitely indicating he was relaxing, and that he had certainly had drank some wine. "On what you know. If you know all the ballads and history, then you will only have to take a few classes. Same," Sam groaned as D'ean worked on a sore spot and he felt the knots simply begin to unravel, "with the sword."

{{Ithiel says D'ean wants to kiss the back of you neck.}}

"...you can," Sam murmured to D'ean. "Kiss me, if you want. Won't panic. Promise." He was really beginning to like the idea of D'ean draped across him, the oiled skin between them making their bodies slide across each other effortlessly. His dick liked that idea too. he had never had such immediate and strong desires toward B'tan. What was it about this dragonrider?

Turning to look over his shoulder toward the ledge, Dean glared, guessing Ithiel had said something. Dean loudly kissed his own two fingers, then touched them to the side of Sam's neck. "There's your kiss." Even as he said it, Dean's pulse kicked up a notch because it was a different kind of kiss that he was thinking about. "I think everyone here is too preoccupied with sex."

{{You more than most. Every six seconds.}}

{Shut up.}

Sam was a little disppointed when he felt D'ean's fingers instead of his lips. He twisted his head enough to meet D'ean's eyes. "That wasn't a kiss. He took hold of D'ean's hand and pulled it forward. The sweet oil not only smelled pretty good, it tasted pretty decent too. He kissed Dean's palm, momentarily tongueing that tender sensitive spot right in the middle. He pulled Dean forward more and moved his lips to Dean's wrist, kissing and sucking and nipping.

Dean's mouth went dry. The warm moist press of Sam's tongue against his palm sent heat shooting straight to his cock and had him sucking his breath in. Fuck... not right, not how it was supposed to go. But he wasn't pulling his hand back, and his eyelids dropped, hooding his eyes from Sam's perceptive view as Sam made love to his freakin' wrist.

"Guess you need more than just history lessons," Sam said, smirking at him before giving Dean's wrist a good solid kiss and then letting his hand go.

Stung, Dean momentarily imagined rolling Sam over, covering his mouth with his, and showing him all the ways he could use his tongue to change that smirk he was wearing into a series of groans and moans. And once he moved his mouth down along the side of his brother's throat, he'd have him apologizing for that comment big time.

{{I don't understand, but some code of honor prevents Mine from doing this.}} Ithiel happily showed Merith and Sam the thoughts that his stubborn dragonrider was having.
Sam wondered what that 'code of honor' could possibly be and he really wished D'ean would follow through on his imaginings. If nothing else, the intimacy would help distract him from thinking of B'tan. He was about to say as much when he felt D'ean shift. There was no doubt Ithiel's rider was getting as interested as he was.

"Can't wait to see the rest of the curriculum," Dean bristled, moving his hand and continuing the massage for a little while longer, until the ache between his legs was getting too much to handle. All he needed was a comment from Sam or Ithiel, and they would too!

D'ean's almost agressive massaging stole that suggestion and he closed his eyes, enjoying the massage.

Dean slipped off Sam, frowning at the needs still sweeping through him. {You're not going to let me sleep, are you?}

{{I didn't say anything}} Ithiel just nuzzled Merith's neck, resting his snout against her.

Feeling D'ean finally get off on him, Sam reached out almost blindly and grabbed D'ean's wrist, pulling him down. He almost reluctantly pushed himself up, not really wanting to disrupt the putty his muscles had become, but he did anyhow. He pushed up just enough so he could kiss Dean lightly on the lips.

"Thanks. That felt great." He smiled a little at the man and could see what he had already felt rubbing against his ass. He chuckled tiredly. "Yeah, me too," he said jerking his chin a little toward D'ean's obvious erection. Collapsing back onto the bed, Sam mumbled. "Privy's back there." He indicated a place behind him on the other side of the curtain. "Or you can lie with me, but you did too good a job on me for me to be able to help you out tonight." He shut his eyes. "Just come back to sleep with me when you're done."

Mouth burning, cock hard and aching, mind frozen numb by Sam's antics and comments, Dean opened his mouth twice to speak, but nothing came out. He licked his lips, swallowed. "Just when did you get so ... flirty? Worse than the damned dragons," he muttered. As if jacking off was an option... with his luck, Ithiel would announce it to all of the other dragons. Okay, not like this was the biggest of his problems. The bigger problem was that he shouldn't even be getting hard over Sam, shouldn't be wanting to kiss him again, shouldn't be mixing up the love he felt for him, all the heartache from having lost him, with something else.

{{You make things so complicated, Mine. If you would just accept what you want, then there would be no reason to suffer.}}

{I am NOT suffering.} Mouth set in a straight line, Dean made sure there was plenty of room between himself and Sam, though he pulled the covers over his bare back, then closed his eyes.

Need coiled low in Dean's stomach. He was aware of an arm around his waist, and of the weight of someone's head laying on his chest. Vaguely, he knew it was Sam. Thoughts of that kiss he'd held back swirled in his head, whipping up the desires stirred by the images in his mind. He wanted... needed that kiss, he'd take it. Abruptly, he half sat up, and twisted, pushing Sam down on his back and then lowering himself over him. One of his arms was under Sam, gripping his shoulder, the other running up his abs and side as Dean unerringly found Sam's mouth with his own.

The warmth of D'ean pressed against him, the sheer comfort, had kept all the nightmares he had expected at bay. Maybe it was the massage, maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the strange comfort and protection he found in the stranger's arms but he hadn't slept so very well in such a long long time. When he felt the hand on his shoulder he rolled willingly onto his back.

So soft, so warm, so fucking enticing, Dean wasn't gonna wait. Dean licked the seam of Sam's lips once, before thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Just one stroke of tongue against tongue, and Dean was burning up. He groaned, and shifted his body, pressing his arousal into Sam's hip as he deepened the kiss. Holy fuck... he'd never felt like this, needed like this, wanted like this. "Sam..." he whispered against his brother's lips, then delved his tongue inside again.

There was a moment of almost panic at the mouth covering his own, of the tongue forcing it's way in, but he was in bed and the body draped over him, it wasn't S'rance. He knew that, could tell that by the gentle caressing hands, the same hands that had massaged his muscles the night before. D'ean's groan clenched it and Sam opened his mouth wider, returned the kiss, tangling his tongue with D'ean's and wrapping his arms around the man. He felt the hardening cock pressed against him and he pulled D'ean closer, tighter to him as his own need grew in leaps and bounds. He wanted D'ean like he had never wanted anyone before. He answered D'ean's groans with his own and when he heard that low voice murmur his name he felt his heart race.

"D'ean," he whispered back, running his hands up and down that muscular back. His hand went to Dean's ass and he kneaded and squeezed as he pressed himself harder against him.

"Right here," Dean answered, his hand lingering over the top edge of Sam's underbriefs, fingers dipping under, caressing soft sensitive skin, and occasionally brushing against Sam's shaft.

Though Dean was apparently blissfully ignorant of the light touches to his cock, Sam wasn't and groaned as D'ean's touch teased him.

Dean rubbed his mouth back and forth against Sam's. "Missed you ... missed you so fucking much Sammy, you don't know," he said, pain and lust coloring his voice as he melded their mouths together in another mind numbing kiss. All he could think about was Sam, how he tasted... so sweet and innocent, how he smelled... familiar, but different.
The words didn't make sense to Sam but he didn't care. He didn't know how D'ean could have missed him but the way D'ean kissed him now, it stole his breath away and he wanted more. He wanted everything. He wanted to devour D'ean and for D'ean to devour him.

Needing more, Dean shifted, pushing his knee between Sam's legs, moaning at the proof of Sam's desire. He pulled his hand up, touching, groping Sam's chest, then bringing his hand to the side of Sam's face, using it to make Sam turn this way and that way as his mouth moved hungrily over Sam's. Need, burning in his veins, made it impossible for him to think, to look beyond this moment.

Sam let D'ean guide him, let him kiss him any way he wanted. He ran his fingernails down D'ean's back as he spread his legs. Sliding his hands under Dean's undershorts he rubbed and caressed those tight muscle. "Need you," Sam's panted when D'ean gave him a moment to breathe and arched up against Dean, rubbing against him.

"God... oh God, Sam..." Dean was breathless as he kissed and moved his mouth over Sam's face, his eyes, his ear. He worked his way back around Sam's jaw, sucked his lower lip and pulled away. Just the sight of Sam's swollen lips sent blood rushing straight to his cock. "This is crazy, you know that, right?" he asked, but there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it, he was just too tangled up with lust.
"I don't care," Sam murmured. It was crazy. In the months with B'tan nothing like this had ever happened. He and Selina had made love five times. She was the first one to ever touch him with love. B'tan cared about him, but it just wasn't...it just never quite felt right. This felt so very right.

Dean licked a path down Sam's throat, nipping him, then soothing again. His hands were all over, Sam's shoulders, his arms, his sides, carressing up and down as he left hot trails of kisses down his chest.

Sam loved it, every fecking touch, every scorching kiss. When he and Selina had made love, it had never felt like this, not even close. This went clear through to the core of his being. To be touched like this. He had never hoped for such a thing, never dreamed it could be like this.

Dean's mouth moved over Sam's abs, and he sucked on the taut skin stretched tight over muscle. "So fucking hot Sam." He knew, he knew he should stop, that this wasn't right, but his body wasn't listening.

Groaning, Sam ran his fingers through the short hair of the rider. Oh he wanted that mouth to go lower, he wanted that mouth on his weeping cock, licking and sucking and making him come so hard he saw stars. He tightened his fingers in D'ean's hair and bucked up a little, seeking more pressure as he tried to guide D'ean's hot mouth lower.

The stakes were rising, Dean knew that... was experienced enough to. He should stop, Dean knew that too, knew that Sam's increasingly desperate movements under him meant he was getting near the 'no return' point. He let Sam push his face lower, he moved his hands to Sam's thighs. Gripping and releasing them, his fingers dug into Sam's powerful thighs, made him wonder what it would feel like to have Sam's legs locked behind his back as they fucked against each other. A groan welled up in his throat, and then his mouth was over Sam's arousal, straining against cotton.

Sam moaned. Yes, by the first egg, yes. He wanted this, wanted this so badly.

Dean kissed him once, twice... and then he fought against every instinct in his body, and pulled up.

Looking down at Sam, he was breathing hard. Staring at his swollen mouth, his lust blown pupils, knowing he was gonna hurt him. Fuck. "Sammy..." Licking his lips, he ran his hand down the center of his brother's body, half caressing, half holding him down. "I'm sorry... I... God..." His chest heaved at he stared into Sam's eyes.

Sam saw the look. Through his lust, through his desire, he saw the look. The look he had seen so many times. The look someone he was interested in gave him before turning away from him. Because of the Lord Holder's son and the threats made.

He shut his eyes. He couldn't bear that look. He couldn't bear being denied what he so desperately wanted. Again. He felt his heart break just a little. He thought he had it. He thought he'd found it. He was wrong.

"S'okay," Sam said and moved to get up. He was done trying. Let S'rance have him. He couldn't stand being alone anymore.

The resignation in Sam's eyes hurt more than if he'd seen anger. Dean grabbed his arm before he slipped off the bed, leaned in and spoke near his ear. "BROTHER." He took a deep breath, still trying to get it under control. "Only reason, only reason we stopped. Brother," he insisted and then let him go, pulling the blankets over him to hide his raging erection.

(okay - pure pimping time. pheebs1 is kindly letting me run or co-run with her spn_christmas. It just happened so plans are in the works, and we'll be off and running this weekend. Please take a look at the profile and consider posting holiday art or fic, or participating as readers/JOIN. There is also a raffle *nods*... that might be a good incentive. I may come begging ... *Hugs*)

SPN XMAS Cards

2009-12-03T18:56:01Z

Need SPN themed Xmas or holiday cards? One of my fave artists, apieceofcake, has posted a grab bag of lovely, lovely offerings over at spn_christmas, go check them out, snag, comment, have a good time ::grins:: Oh yeah, and join the comm... let's make it a fun holiday season while we're at it!

And just to tempt you... here is just one of the many postcards by apieceofcake. Oh the eyecandy! (Note, the original is bigger).

I have a holiday fic/art fetish? Who me? Yeah... okay, watch this space for holiday fic cause I'm guilty as charged. I'll be pulling up my list of old holiday fics, and then adding hopefully quite a few more (in the works) this year.

Purified By Innocence, 6/?[NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-12-03T07:28:57Z

Many thanks to naisica who not only allowed us to use her lovely manip but added text for us. If you haven't seen her art... run, don't walk.

Fandom: SPN - AU - Sam/Dean are not brothers
Title: Purified By Innocence
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) and Fetish sam_dean_fetish
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; Slash; One attempted rape scene (not BY the boys)

Characters: The characters are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.

Summary: Lord Dean Winchester belongs to the secret arm of the Knights Templer, fighting supernatural horrors and demons that plague the land. Knights like Dean must be paired with an innocent who can neutralize the dark taint that builds up inside them due to their close contact with evil. Dean has selected the boy, Sam, as his innocent, and goes to claim him from the monks who have groomed and sheltered him for that purpose.
Author's Note: We have not tried to make the language sound overly medieval. Think of the Herculese t.v. show, you have the ancient Greece setting but more modern lingo is used. However, we did not go for slapstick or anything.

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

Hours later, a slightly inebriated Dean walked up the spiral stone stairs and made his way to his chambers. The candles were lit, the fire place was roaring, and his innocent was sitting in his bed. "You may escape to your chambers," he said, waving at him with not a little bitterness.

Sam looked up at him, his kitten held tightly in his lap. "Escape, my lord?" Sam asked him frowning before looking back down at the white fluffball curled in his lap. "I did not realize I was escaping anything," he sighed and licked his lips, before raising his head. "You are," Sam cocked his head to the side frowning, "drunk. Why?"

"Also escaping." Seeing the cat in his bed, he narrowed his gaze but said nothing. Steadying himself, he started to loosen his clothing and hummed a bawdy song that was stuck in his mind, from the tavern. When he looked back at his bed, he raised his eyebrows. "You're still here."

Sam pressed his lips together and gave a nod. "Why are you angry with me?" Sam shook his head, "I have done nothing wrong, I have said nothing wrong. I've barely spoken to you, so," he sighed, "I don't know what I have done to make you displeased with me. It's not the darkness, Peter said you have to go into battle for that to worsen. Peter said it was after that when you would be easier to anger. Peter said that after," Sam paused, looking back down at the cat, "well, that you should be better than you were," he mumbled.

His innocent's words reminded Dean why he was angry. "I told you I enjoy your company, but in return, as you have just said, you choose to barely speak with me, you've ignored me in front of my household, and made it distinctly clear that you don't want anything to do with me. You wish to blame me for... for last night, fine, I'm a brute, I hurt you, now please get out of my bed, we wouldn't want another occurrence." Throwing his boot across the room, he glared at Sam. "And take that damnable creature with you."

"Ignored you!?" Sam asked him, eyes widening, "I did not ignore you! I had nothing to say to you, would you rather I make something up?" he huffed and pulled to his feet, walking toward the door, his kitten in his arms. "Trust me, I would not leave my kitten with someone who is incapable of love," Sam spat at him, eyes narrowed. "At least this damnable creature loves me."

It was the first time Sam had ever sworn and he had to fight against the instinct to fall to his knees and repent, to say his evening prayers and beg forgiveness for what he had just said. He managed, though his hands and legs trembled.

"Incapable of..." Unable to wrap his mind around what Sam was saying, Dean shook his head. "Have you imbibed as well? You make no sense." Finishing his struggle with his second boot and sending it flying, Dean crossed the room, cursing again when he hit his foot on a piece of furniture that got in his way. He sat heavily down on the bed and looked at Sam. "I did not think a male could be as prickly as a female. On occasion, I am proven wrong."

Sam clenched his jaw, eyes narrowed as he glared daggers at Dean. He bent at the waist to place his kitten on the floor before straightening and glaring once more at Dean. "You want to know what my dream used to be? Huh? You want to know what I dreamt about since I was twelve years old? I dreamt that my knight would be different, that he would be handsome and funny, sweet and kind that he would be gentle, that he would, " Sam pointed at himself, "LOVE ME!" Sam nodded, "Christiana told me I was a fool," he shook his head as his hand fell to his side, "but I didn't believe her, I thought that maybe, just maybe I would be lucky. I prayed for this more times than I should have. I asked God to give me a knight that would make this thing that we have to do be to each other..." Sam's face twisted as he spat out the word, "nice!"

He turned away from Dean walking over to the window. "I asked you what I did when we were," he paused and licked his lips as he gazed out at the moonlit land. "I was going to tell you that if you loved me that no matter how it happened it would be like my dreams, that it was okay. But, you weren't," Sam shook his head, "aren't, able to give me that." He nodded as if agreeing with himself before he turned and walked back over to his kitten and picked it up, not looking at Dean until then. "And you may hate my animals too, but they give me something to love and something that loves me! For what you take from me, I don't think it is a lot to ask!" Sam yelled, reaching for the door as he held his kitten tightly.

"What I take from you," Dean nodded. "I will apologize to you only one more time Samuel. I did not mean to be rough, it wasn't how I dreamt our first time would be. I asked for your help... I..." he was still at a loss, remembering perhaps incorrectly that Sam had egged him on instead of trying to exert the power an innocent could hold over his master. "It matters not. I failed, you walked out. I will refrain from summoning you to my bed for as long as I can. Tavern wenches have taken care of my needs in the past... if it is your preference..." he shrugged, then rubbed his temple. "As for love... you're still standing... so I must." It was unheard of, for anyone of his household to be allowed to speak to him thus.

Sam shook his head, "You don't get it do you?" he sighed and hugged his kitten closer, "I don't want your stupid apology. The only thing I wanted you won't even say. What, you can fight demons and slay evil men, but you can't speak those words?" Sam shook his head, "I was hurt, then I was angry, now I just pity you. It must be horrible not to be able to look at something, someone and say, 'I love you'." He hung his head, shaking it sadly, "Well, I did love you," he looked up at Dean, "for years, before I even knew who you were I loved you, and then after I met you, I loved you even more because you weren't a faceless dream, but now," he shook his head again. "When you need me, call me, I'll do my duties as I should. You can make me feel worthless, but I am not. I was trained better than that," Sam told him, squaring his shoulders.

"You're right, I do not 'get you.' All this," he swept his arm around, "because I did not say 'I love you?' And THAT makes you feel worthless, or are you implying I've committed yet other wrongs? Bah, I am as 'terrible' as the creatures I have fought are 'fearsome,' starting with the fleas." He sniffed, and tried to get comfortable on the bed, though he knew that the one who could offer him comfort was only offering him rebellion at the moment. His jaw pulsed. "I 'think' I love you. I am not certain because I have known you for but a few days, and for most of that time, you have refused to talk to me."

Sam sighed and hung his head before pulling open the door and stepping out to take his kitten to his room. Depositing his kitten inside, Sam closed his door and, walked back into Dean's, closing the door behind himself. Walking over to the bed, he sat at the end, facing Dean. "I am sorry. I have spent all my life waiting for that moment and I got my hopes up," he shrugged a shoulder looking away.

Taking a deep breath he looked back at Dean, "I hear those fleas are pretty fearsome actually." A small smirk pulled at the corner of Sam's lips as he spoke the last bit.

Managing a laugh, Dean watched Sam. Sometimes he thought he could read him like a book and other times, even when he wasn't under the influence of ale and wine, he was at a complete loss as to what went on in his innocent's head. "You're not alone in that. I waited my entire life. You don't believe me? Do you see a wife in waiting?" Surely Sam knew how unusual it was for a man of his years not to be married. He took a breath. "It wasn't what either one of us ... expected or wanted," he nodded, more sad for his innocent than for himself. "I suggest a drink... it drowns the worst of your disappointments." He looked over to where a pitcher of wine sat. "Pour us some."

Sam nodded and pulled from the bed, walking over to the pitcher and pouring two glasses, though neither one did he fill completely, then carried them both back over to the bed, reclaiming his seat as he handed Dean his. "Water wouldn't hurt you any. Christiana assured me long ago that we are not made of sugar so we will not melt from too much water," he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the contents of his cup before taking a sip.

Looking back up at Dean, Sam licked his lips. "Peter says I get to have riding lessons?" Sam asked, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

"If you wish." He drank the tangy liquid, trying to will himself to focus and at the same time wanting the comfort offered by the wine. "I chose a horse for you. He's," he chuckled, "a lot like you. Your hero, Peter, advised I not mention that."

Sam smiled wide and shook his head, "You think Peter my hero?" he quirked a brow, before taking another sip and shrugging a shoulder, "Peter makes me laugh," he grinned, "He is not my hero."

Sam pulled his legs up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and leaned back against the end of the bed, frowning thoughtfully. "Are there," he licked his lips, "chores you have for me to do? Plowing or carrying heavy things, something?" Sam raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. "I am use to doing things, if I sit here like some pampered peacock I'm going to get fat and lazy." He made a face. "Can I build a small stable for my animals?"

"Your animals. What animals?" Dean knocked back more wine, knowing he was not going to like the answer, but asking it just the same. "Cats and dogs don't need to be stabled." Making the mistake of shifting his eyes to Sam's, he winced. There was that look, one he was getting to know too well, the one that made him want to say 'yes' even without knowing the damned question.

Sam licked his lips, "No, but, um," Sam bit his lip as he looked at Dean and took a breath. "Well, there was this elephant, and I just couldn't say no, cause he was hurt and he's so cute, and well, I said that I'd take him but I hadn't really asked you yet, but I thought I could hide it until I smoothed it over with you, but um, your horse doesn't like it," he quickly rambled out, then cleared his throat after, wincing as he looked at Dean.

"No... no... you don't mean an elephant, elephants live in India, not England..." even as he explained, he remembered the traveling animal show as well as the tales about a crippled baby elephant and felt his heart lurch. "We are not equipped for a... a beast. That thing will grow and grow, and you cannot build a stable large enough... if it even lives in a stable. No, you didn't say elephant... its the drink that is talking," he comforted himself. And then he heard a trumpeting sound and almost dropped his cup.

Sam grimaced as he glanced toward the window then looked back at Dean. "Um, no my lord, that would be an elephant. My elephant," his eyes turned soft and pleading, "if I can keep him, can I?"

Dean opened his mouth. Then shut it. He gestured wildly, then dropped his hand. He glared at Sam, then relented. "Only until the next animal show travels through town, then we will send it packing."

Sam started to smile, then it grew wider before it was full blown and wide, showing dimples and straight white teeth. "Unless you love him by then, you mean? Cause you can't get rid of him if you love him by then," Sam shrugged, "you just can't." He rolled over to stretch out on the bed on his stomach, smiling up at Dean. "So, I can start building his stable tomorrow," Sam nodded. "I still need to name the cat and Bridgette's pups are due soon I think." Sam frowned, "maybe you better have a little more wine?"

"I'll drink from the pitcher," Dean agreed.

Sam started to chuckle then his chuckle worked it's way into a laugh and a fit of laughter as he rolled over on the bed, neck arched so he could look at Dean upside down through his laughter.

Dean tried not to laugh, but failed. "You look like your damnable cat." Leaning forward, he playfully tousled Sam's hair, trying not to notice the smooth lines of the column of his neck, nor to remember how he felt and tasted there. Those thoughts would lead him down the primrose path and he did not want a repeat of last night's debacle. "Are you homesick?" he asked, directly.

Sam let out a few more chuckles before he was able to stifle his laughter enough to speak, "Sometimes," he rolled back over onto his stomach so he could see Dean and not have him be upside down. "I miss Christiana, Jacob, Stephanie," Sam licked his lips and shook his head, "but she had already been claimed a year before me. Jacob left the day before I did, it was just me and Christiana left of our group." He grinned mischievously, "the two worst ones."

"Maybe I should send commiserations to her knight then." There was a glint in Dean's eyes, as if he was barely restraining his agreement on Sam's assessment of himself. "Keep moving around like that on my bed and I won't be responsible." The words were meant in jest, but recalling the night before, Dean winced and pulled his gaze away. "Maybe you should go to bed. Talk in the morning."

Sam had been smiling, but at his masters last words, frowned in confusion, his gaze dropping to look down at himself. Moving around like what? Sam bit his lip as he raised his gaze to Dean's face once more and nodded. "Alright, my lord," he answered softly, pulling up to his knees and walking on them to cross the distance between himself and Dean before lowering himself. Hands braced against the pillow at each side of Dean's head, Sam leaned down, brushing his lips over Dean's before pulling away. "Good night, Dean."

A sound broke out of Dean, a mixture of surprise and sudden desire as his arms closed around Sam, trapping him before he moved too far. For a long moment, he stared into the boy's startled eyes, then closing his own, moved in and slanted his mouth over Sam's to give him a real kiss. He pushed his tongue inside Sam's mouth, teasing and stroking, tasting him again. He wondered if it was the same for an innocent. Did they crave their knight like their next breath? Allowing himself one last kiss, he slid his mouth across Sam's cheek to his ear. "Good night, Sam."

Sam slowly pulled back, his eyes on Dean's face as he licked his lips. One hand moved from the pillows to cup Dean's cheek as Sam smiled softly around chewing his lip, his thumb rolling over Dean's cheek bone. Sam slowly pulled his hand away and slid off the bed, walking to the door and out, closing it softly behind him.

Stepping into his room, Sam found his kitten curled up on his pillows as he walked over to his bed. He felt better now, having talked to his knight, save for one thing. Would Dean really just go to some wench? Just like that? Pulling the blankets up and his kitten down next to him, Sam cuddled close to the animal as he thought about that. Maybe he needed to get himself back into his master's bed.

*

Dean wiped his thumb over his lips, then licked it. Having an innocent was damned complicated business. Blowing the candle out, he got inside the bed. For a while, he tossed and turned, his mind on his innocent. One moment he blew cold, the next hot. He ignored him, then he talked his ears off. Then he laid a kiss on his lips. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean rolled to the other side of the bed, 'Samuel's side.' No, things had not turned out just like he'd thought they would, not at all. Hooking one arm around the pillow, he buried his nose in it, in Sam's pillow, and took a deep breath.

* * *

When daylight was just about to dawn, Dean came awake with a plan already formulated in his mind. He wanted his innocent in his bed, willing, unafraid and for always. He wanted Samuel to give himself over not because it was right, or it was fated or expected of him, or because of some dream he had kept in his heart. He wanted Samuel to want him with the same desire the knight had for his innocent.

Dressing himself, he walked to the door connecting his room to Samuel's. At the sight of the youth in the great bed, with a white furball curled on his pillow above his head, Dean rolled his eyes. His castle was not going to be turned into a zoo. But the way his gaze lingered on Sam's face, the way his face softened in the same manner that Sam's did when he held the damnable cat, anyone watching would doubt his ability to refuse his innocent's requests.

Quietly, he approached the bed and sat down. He knew that Sam was used to rising early, but he was unused to wine and he'd plied him with some last evening. He whispered Sam's name, and seeing no reaction, started to touch him. First, he ran his finger back and forth over his lips, biting his own when Sam's parted and made Dean want to thrust his tongue into the sweet heat of his innocent's mouth. Slowly, he pulled the sheets down and touched Sam's chest, trailing his fingers until he reached his brais. A smile spread over his face at the fact he hadn't yet been able to convince Sam to go to bed without any clothes of his own accord.

Dean lightly cupped Sam's cock, applying a little pressure, squeezing his hand to mold it to Sam's form. He started to move very slowly, his own cock surging as he brought his innocent to arousal. His gaze moved to Sam's face, even as he continued to touch, to stroke and squeeze, noticing the shallower breaths coming from the boy. The temptation to touch him under his brais was irresistible, so he pulled his hand away and inserted it from the opening at Sam's thigh. As his hand closed around the boys hard flesh, a groan welled up in the back of his throat. And then his innocent started to move his hips, and Dean was drawn into a web of lust that almost made him forget his plan.

His breaths started to come harsher as Sam's cock wept into his palm, and he spread the liquid. Sweet Jesu.... he was going to come if he didn't leave the room now. Exerting his iron will, Dean pulled away and taking one last look at his innocent, forced his legs to carry him away.

Sam frowned in his sleep, the feelings, the ghost touches were gone and he wanted more, needed more. His hips arched upward into nothingness, searching for that hand, the phantom one that had been touching him in his dreams. It had felt so good, so right, so... perfect. A soft whimper sounded in Sam's throat as his head rolled on the pillow. The only touch he received for all his want, his efforts and need for his phantom lover to come back, to keep going, to do it more, was a rough tiny tongue licking at his creased brow.

Sam's eyes popped open as his breaths hitched in his throat, his head rising up off the pillows as his gaze darted about his room. Empty. He was alone, and yet...

Sam looked down at himself, at his obviously tenting brais, his cock aching, full and heavy between his legs. With a groan Sam rolled over onto his side, his hands tucked between his legs as he pulled them up and cupped his aching erection. Slowly pulling one hand away from himself, his other still cupping himself hard, Sam ran a hand over his face, blinking rapidly to try and clear his lust fogged head. Well this was a new way to wake up, to dream about his knight. His face twisted in a frown, Sam used his free hand to push himself up into a sitting position, hissing in a breath as he did.

He definitely needed to go relieve himself, maybe that would help with the aching arousal, at the very least he could start thinking about something else other than the touch of that phantom hand in his dreams. Rolling his eyes at himself, Sam reached for his breeches. Oh God, he hoped he didn't see anyone on his way to relieve himself, he'd be the shade of a tomato for the rest of his life if he did.

Finally Sam dressed and relieved himself, splashed enough cold water on his face that it was a wonder he didn't have ice-cicles hanging off the end of his nose, before he went downstairs to the the dining hall and sat down next to Dean who was breaking his fast. Sam definitely felt better now, save for the times that Dean's hand would wander to his thigh, squeezing and rubbing, much the way that phantom hand had his shaft in his dreams. In those moments Sam would freeze up, hang his head and try not to get another raging hard on right there in front of everyone.

For once, Dean did not mind his innocent's silence or slow responses to questions. He himself might have trouble speaking if Sam's hand touched him the way he was touching his Samuel. He spoke with Peter about the cases that would be brought before him later in the day, decisions he would have to make as to what one peasant owed the other for accidentally killing a hen, while slipping his palm casually up and down Sam's thigh.

On occasion, he would move to Sam's inner thigh, feel his muscles tense, know that if others weren't around Sam would have something to say about this. But acting as if this was normal, Dean kept stroking in circles, moving closer to Sam's cock, occasionally allowing a finger to brush against him. When Peter made him laugh, his fingers bit into Sam's thigh, and he turned to his innocent. "You don't appear amused by Peter's jests this morn."

Sam slowly raised his head, his eyes darting from Dean to Peter and back before he licked his lips, "I- I'm not." He swallowed, "My mind is elsewhere," he nodded, "I didn't sleep well. Dreams..." he cleared his throat and tore his gaze away from Dean's.

His cock was twitching in his breeches at every brush of Dean's hand, his breaths catching every time Dean squeezed his thigh and yet Dean expected him to be able to laugh and jest with others as if nothing was happening under the table? As if he wouldn't be unable to stand up were the action asked of him, at least not without embarrassing himself ? Sam hung his head, eyes closing as he let out a soft shuddering breath.

"Ah... dreams, I hope they were good." Leaning in, he kissed the corner of Sam's mouth, his tongue barely making contact with Sam's lip, before he turned back and discussed castle business again. He was relentless, allowing Sam a few moments of peace, and then touching him again, making him tense and squirm. It was not as if Dean himself was unaffected, but he was able to control his own reactions and act as if he wasn't burning for his innocent, wasn't imagining himself pulling Sam onto his lap, grinding against him, and laying him on the table as he claimed him a second time.

By the time the meal was over, Dean noticed Sam had not eaten much. Getting up, he stood next to his innocent, leaning in so that his body pressed against Sam's side, and his ever ready arousal made its presence known. Petting Sam's head, running his fingers through his hair, he spoke. "You have hardly eaten. If you're certain nothing is wrong, you might want to come to the practice yard to watch." Smiling, he turned and walked away.

Grabbing handfuls of food once his master walked away, Sam rose to his feet, biting into his bread and cheese as he walked. Eating around his master was obviously going to be an impossible act today, so when he had a few moments away from those touches that were getting to him, making him hard with want and wishing that it were bath time instead of the start of the day, Sam ate quickly, licking his fingers. Once he was done, he walked outside to watch the knights practice.

Dean disappeared around the side of a small structure and Sam leaned, almost bored, against one of the wooden pillars of the fencing around the practice area, squinting into the sun as he awaited for master to walk back out. At first, Sam watched as Charles and Peter squared off, their swords clashing, the sound of metal striking against metal filling the air. Att the end of their match, that was when Sam saw his master again.

Dean walked out onto the yard without his tunic on, the sun shining down on his flesh. Images of Dean's bared flesh as they lay together in bed, flashed through Sam's mind, making him shift his weight from one foot to the other as he clenched his jaw, arms crossed over his chest. As Dean fought against both of the other knights, the three of them working up a sweat, it was Dean who Sam's gaze was riveted to. The sheen of sweat on his skin, the way his muscles rippled with each movement of his sword, or body, the grace with which he moved, attacking or defending. Sam found himself biting his lip, without even realizing he had the habit, until he nearly broke skin. His hands curled into tight fists, arms still crossed in front of him.

As Dean beat the other knights back, he knew he would do a lot better, have a decisive victory sooner, if not for the fact his mind was on the boy leaning against the post and watching. He could feel his gaze even when he couldn't see Sam, feel the heat between them, and knew without a doubt that his little innocent was still feeling the effects of his morning attention and didn't know enough to help himself.

He fought hard, to impress Sam, though he pretended not to notice him at all. Other knights gathered, shouting encouragements and yet another entered the practice yard to take up a position against Dean. That, he hadn't anticipated. No doubt Peter or Charles had called him. Suddenly, he put all of his effort into the fight, determined to best them and show his innocent that he was worthy of his love and trust.

Shouts erupted around them, but he barely heard them, stopping only when the others called his victory. Tossing the practice sword down so it plunged into the ground and stood with its hilt up, he grabbed a cloth and wiped himself off as he walked over to Sam. "I've vanquished three worms today, do I not deserve a prize?" he asked, his gaze deliberately dropping to Sam's mouth.

Sam quirked a brow. "So you have graduated to worms, my lord? Must be that my presence does agree with you, having gone from insects to worms." A teasing grin pulling at the corners of his lips before he licked them and leaned in, his lips near Dean's. "What prize exactly did my lord wish?" Sam softlyasked.

"If I told you that I wish to have you naked and on my lap, and the things I want to do with you... you might faint. I'll settled for this," Dean answered, sliding his mouth over Sam's and putting his hand possessively over his ass and kissing him soundly, but breaking off even as he felt his innocent try to push his tongue into his mouth. Still holding him close, he spoke. "You know how you rode in front of me on my horse?"

Sam swallowed hard as he nodded, his eyes slowly lowering to mere slits. Yeah, he remembered riding in front of him on the horse. Sam's mind went to what Dean had done to him on the bed and added it to the memory of riding the horse. Yeah, he got the point.

He allowed the image to take hold in Sam's mind, having no doubt that now that his innocent was not-so-innocent, it would lead to lewd thoughts. "Well, you won't have to again after your riding lessons. Be at the stables in an hour."

Sam's eyes popped open, his lips parted. What -? But, you said -? But-? Sam cleared his throat. "Y - yes, my lord."

"Are you sure you're alright? Maybe you've had too much sun." Holding him flush against his body, Dean lightly ground his hips against Sam's. He lowered his mouth to kiss Sam, when he saw a servant bring out a large bucket of water and pulled away. "Stables... don't be late."

Sam's breath hitched and a soft groan worked out of him as Dean ground his hips lightly against him, his breaths coming faster, the dull ache in his groin worsening. Sam licked his lips a soft whine nearly tearing from his throat though he managed to swallow it, as Dean pulled away.

Walking to the bucked, Dean dipped the cloth he'd been wiping himself witht, then held the wet rag up over him, wringing it. Water poured down his face and chest. He repeated to wet his back, then shaking his head to get rid of the water droplets, he walked toward the armory, skirting the other knights that were sparring or sword fighting.

Sam watched Dean as he stood there wetting his body with the water from the bucket, watched the drops of water cascade over his skin and bit his lip to keep from either groaning or saying something stupid. As Dean walked away Sam thought seriously of taking the entire bucking and dumping it over his own head, but didn't, instead raising a hand to run down his face as he let out a soft sigh. Was the day over yet?

* * *

Dean was a bit late coming to the stables, but he spotted Sam leaning forward, arms stretched out on either side of his body in a 'T' across the top of the railing that separated him from his horse, his palms flat against it. Grinning, he walked up behind Sam, put his arms one either side of Sam's body and gripped the rail, trapping Sam against it. Resting his chin on Sam's shoulder, he asked, "isn't he beautiful? I thought about you the instant I saw him."

Sam stilled, his body going rigid the moment Dean pressed up against him, his breaths hitching. Sam swallowed. "Because I eat grass and whinny?" he tried to make a joke to get his mind off the way his body kept responding to things it shouldn't. What was wrong with him today?

"I'd like to hear you whinny," Dean chuckled, nuzzling his throat. "Did you wash with honey? Smell good," he muttered, sucking his ear lobe into his mouth.

Sam gasped in a breath softly a low moan tearing from his throat, his eyes closing, his cock twitching in his breeches. "Mmm... honey?" he asked, not opening his eyes, his hands slowly curling into fists on the fence. Sam's breaths pant out softly through parted lips as he waited for an answer, another touch, for his knight to take this ache away.

"Did you wash with honey," Dean repeated, stabbing his tongue inside Sam's ear, then around its shell. He could feel Sam pressing back, heard the sounds he made, loved them. "Hmm? Honey? Drizzle it on you and rub everywhere, did you do that, Sammy?" He was getting hard at the though of Sam glistening gold and sticky with honey. "Wish I'd been there, I'd have licked some off you. I love honey."

Sam groaned and shook his head, "No, no honey," but I could A soft mewling sound broke from his throat as he pressed back against Dean harder, breath gasping out from between parted lips. "W-why," Sam frowned, brow creasing, unable to think, "did you ask me that?"

"Told you already, aren't you paying attention?" He whispered, "you smell good. Closing one arm around Sam, he pressed his palm into Sam's belly and started to talk about the fine points of the horse, how to select one, and why the one he'd selected was perfect. All the while, he moved rhythmically against his innocent, very small movements of his body, grinding into Sam's ass, his hand moving in circles, his breath and lips skimming Sam's sensitive areas, his throat, his ears, the corner of his lip. "Do you like it?"

Sam swallowed nodding vigorously, "Mmm, yeah, oh yeah... don't stop.... please," he answered breathlessly, nearly writhing in Dean's arms, breaths panting out, unable to think of anything but the way his masters body felt against his, and the sweet torturous ache between his legs.

"The horse Sam... do you like him? What shall we call him, hmmm?" The way his innocent was moving, Dean almost gave up on his plan. Instead of waiting for Sam to ask to be bedded, he was very close to carrying him on his shoulder, taking him upstairs and having his way. His breaths were starting to come out in harsh gasps and he needed to break off now.

Sam slowly opened his eyes. "Hmm? Horse?" he blinked several times at the animal as if he hadn't even noticed it there before, as if he hadn't just been standing there talking to it and petting it moments before Dean had walked up. "Uh," Sam shook his head, his mind a total blank. Slowly he raised a hand to his forehead, pressing his lips together and frowning, "I, uh, I don't think I feel very good. Maybe I need to go lay down," Sam mumbled softly.

"You don't want to ride me?" He cleared his throat and pulled away. "Ride with me, I mean? Alright, go take a rest, we can do it tomorrow."

Sam's breath hitched before he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded. Yeah, he needed to lay down. Take a nap maybe, cool off? It was hot out today. Sam wasn't sure, but he needed 'something'. Well, one damn thing I need is the stupid ACHE IN MY GROIN TO GO AWAY! Aaugh!

Turning Sam around in his arms, Dean ran his fingers over his ass, up and down, moving his mouth back and forth across Sam's then kissing him lightly. "Dream of me." Then he released him and stepped back, finally giving him room.

Sam exhaled a breath and gave a small nod, clenching his jaw as he turned and started walking back toward the entrance to the castle, fighting the need to reach down and cup his aching groin as he went.

Reaching his room, Sam closed the door and leaned back against it with a sigh before pulling away and starting to undress. Too hot. He had gotten too hot and then his strange dreams, well, he hadn't slept well. That was what it was, all it was. At least that was what Sam told himself as he nearly tore his clothes off before flinging himself face first down on the bed in nothing but his brais. His lips curved into a small smile. The cool bed linens felt good against his skin and the sun was no longer beating down on him. Yeah, this was better, this was much better. Closing his eyes, Sam started to relax as he lay there.

Soon thoughts of his phantom knight's touches and what Dean had been doing all day started to fill his mind, making his groin ache again, maybe worse than before, Sam turned his head on the pillow, lips parted as his breaths panted out, hands grasping at the bed sheets, his hips started to grind down against the bed, seeking friction, pressure, something to take away the ache, ease the heavy swell of his cock. Sam moaned, biting his lip as he breathed heavily, his hips grinding harder, thrusting against the bed.

When Dean walked through his room and looked in on Sam through the adjoining door, his heart almost stopped. The sight of his innocent, asleep or half asleep, ass moving up and down as he rutted against the bed was almost too much to bear. The sounds he made, his expression, the urgency of his motions ... Dean knew his innocent was suffering. He whispered Sam's name, and when Samuel didn't answer, he walked to him.

Sitting on the bed, he shoved his hand under Sam's stomach, groaning as Sam started to thrust into his palm. Waves of heat went through Dean each time his innocent moved and ground himself into his hand. He pulled his hand away, watched as Sam searched, complained in soft mewling sounds, and then gave him his hand again.

Sam gasped and thrust harder into the warmth that was suddenly there under him. In his mind it was his knight, they were in the tub and he was rutting up against him once again. Sam's lips were parted, his tongue darted out to moisten them the tip running along his bottom lip as a long groan left him, followed by a needful small cry as he ground into the warmth harder. "Please..." the word was small and breathlessly whispered, Sam's cheeks flushed a soft pink.

Closing his fist around Sam's hard cock, Dean pumped him a few times, but each time Sam tried to find a rhythm, he stopped, or pulled away, heat coiling low in his stomach as he witnessed his innocent's growing frustration. He should feel guilty about this, he should. But all he knew was that he wanted Sam to come to him, to ask him for what he needed, what they both needed. You like this so much, why can't you ask me? Why?

When the warmth closed around his aching shaft again, Sam nearly bucked half off the bed, his breaths gasping in and out as he tried to shove his cock harder into that warmth, to get more friction, a rhythm, to end this ache and find release, only to continue to be denied. Soft sounds of frustration left his lips, sounded in his throat, brow furrowed. Sam's tongue darted out, the tip barely visible past his lips as in his dreams he kissed and arched, bucked and rutted against Dean. Oh God, so good, so good.... please, my lord, please help me.... Sam gave a long loud whine full of need and frustration, his face contorting in a deep frown.

It was only then that he felt the bed shake, no, it was him that was being shaken. Sam's eyes popped open and he quickly rolled all the way onto his stomach, hiding his erection, before turning his head to look up at Dean. Swallowing hard, Sam choked out, "My lord?"

"You've been asleep a while. It's time for supper." Wearing his most innocent look, he touched Sam's forehead with his hand, then with his lips. "Mmmm a little warm," he pulled back, "a bit flushed, as if you've been exerting yourself. Do you want me to have your super brought up to you?"

Sam's eyes widened slightly as he shook his head. "No!" it was an automatic response before he thought about his answer. He started to move, but the ache between his legs had him stifling a groan, his eyes squeezing shut. Sam swallowed and licked his lips before he opened his eyes. "Yeah.... maybe.... I don't know." He bit his lip as he looked up at Dean. "M - maybe I better eat here, I guess." His face slowly fell into a frown before he squeezed his eyes closed again, a small whimper leaving him despite his best efforts to keep it in.

Dean frowned and touched his forehead again. "No, I don't want you out of my sight until I'm sure you are alright. I'll help you dress. If it gets worse, I'll bring the healer myself." Getting up off the bed, he went to get Sam's clothes, not giving the youth any choice in the matter.

Sam's eyes widened as he sat up in the bed, knees pressed tightly together. Help me dress!? Sam bit his lip, tried to bite it hard enough for it to hurt so badly that his mind would have something else to think about. As Dean turned to get his clothes, Sam's hand quickly went between his legs as he pressed down on is erect member, stifling a loud groan as he rolled his eyes at his body. Come on, come on, go down, go down. Dean turned back and Sam quickly yanked his hand out from between his legs. Crap!

As he helped Sam with his under tunic and over tunic, Dean made sure to touch him as much as possible, smoothing the material down over the contours of Sam's body. When Sam pulled his breeches on, he took over the task of securing the stays, ghosting his hand over the outline of Sam's clearly visible shaft. "This usually happens in the mornings," he noted, grinning.

Sam frowned softly, hanging his head shyly. Yes, my lord. Wouldn't go away today. I blame you and that dream knight. Sam took a deep breath and tried to focus on something, anything else as Dean finished helping him prepare for dinner.

He put his hand out for Samuel, and as they walked down the hall to the stairs, he rubbed his thumb suggestively inside Sam's palm. He stopped as they descended the stairs, but did it again as they headed for the dining hall.

As soon as his master's thumb began to make small circle patterns on his palm, warmth seemed to spiral through Sam's system settling down in his cock once more. Sam bit his lip, frowning as he sucked in a shuddering breath, though he fought to remain quiet, not wanting Dean to know what was happening to him.

They sat at the dinner table, and Dean made sure Sam ate despite the ongoing sensual torture that his innocent probably did not even understand. He sat close, touched him at every opportunity, whispered hotly in his ear, and used suggestive language whenever he could work it into the conversation. Peter and Charles, and a number of others tried to entice Sam into conversation, but Dean wore a smug smile as his innocent stuttered, and gave half answers or was so distracted, he never heard the questions.

After the meal was cleared up, Dean motioned for the entertainers. He'd already told them what he wanted. As they plucked their lute strings and sang verses like his innocent had never heard, Dean surreptitiously watched Samuel.

If all the young laddies were fine silks and laces

And I were an iron, I'd sit on their faces

I wish all the laddies were like pipes in the yard,

After I drained them they'd still remain hard.

If all the young laddies were coconuts sweet

I'd suck out their juices and chew on their meat

If all the young laddies were merry go rounds

I'd mount up and we'd go up and down

Loud laughter followed each verse, and Dean merely smiled when Peter was kind enough to interpret for Sam the meaning of the various phrases usually sung by bawdy women.

Sam's face had gotten a soft pink tinge with what he had thought the song might be about, now that Peter had cleared up any misconceptions or misunderstandings, Sam's face was as red as a beet, his head hanging, though his groin was aching at the thoughts planted there by the song. The idea of doing those things seemed to only make the ache between his legs worse, not appall him as it use to, as it should.

If laddies were washcloths with soap in my tub,

I’d lather all over and have a good scrub.

If all the young laddies were fire that scorches,

I’d be the flame and would heat up their torches.

To all the young laddies here's a word to the wise,

Everyone loves tickling but what matters is size.

If all the young laddies were milk in a cup

And I were a kitten, I’d lick them all up

If laddies were knights in search of romances

I’d bed the ones with the longest lances

Dean leaned over and whispered into Sam's ear, "you've already got the knight with the longest lance. I wouldn't lie about a thing like that, would I?" He skimmed his mouth over Sam's throat just when they started a ballad, that was even more graphic.

Sam's breath hitched a low sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper leaving him though it was soft, only loud enough that Dean would have been able to hear it. His brow furrowed, eyes slipping closed for a moment before he caught his bottom lip between his teeth. Opening his eyes, he tried to concentrate on something other than his body and the things he was feeling.

Listening to the words of the ballad, Dean's mind filled with images of hands slipping between thighs, and kisses pressed in places one should not speak about. Occasionally, he'd mutter a, "we've done that."

Sam swallowed, tried not to react as the images, the memories that would flash in his mind each time Dean said they had done this thing or that. He tried to sit forward, but that didn't help, leaning to one side or the other made no difference and leaning back was just not an option, his obvious erection staining his cheeks with embarrassment. Sam twisted his hands in his lap, head hanging as he worried his lip, wanting nothing more than to be excused to go to his room, to be excused from sitting there in front of everyone with his groin aching and his head spinning.

"Are you tired?" Dean gave him a loving smile. "Why don't you go on up and bathe, it will relax you. Use the honey soap," he gave Sam a meaningful look, and kissed him on the lips.

Sam licked his lips and nodded, head still hanging for a moment before he looked up at Dean. Honey soap. Sam swallowed, nodding as his cock twitched in his breeches. For a few moments after the kiss, Sam sat there trying to get his mind working right so he wouldn't just fall over when he got up or start rutting against the wall or something else equally embarrassing. Finally, Sam gave a small nod and pulled, albeit a bit clumsily, to his feet and headed for the stairs.

Upstairs, Sam waited for the tub to be filled before going into the adjoining room, stripping out of his clothes as he went, leaving a trail behind him, his eyes on the water as images of himself and Dean in the tub danced before his eyes, his hard cock bobbing between his legs as he walked.

Getting into the warm water, Sam sighed as he leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes, willing his body to stop with the aching already. Reaching for the honey soap, Sam washed his body, not once, but twice, his hands lingering in places that the monks would have his ass for if they knew, low moans tearing from deep in his throat at the slip slide of soapy hands against his skin, his cock, balls and ass.

His breaths coming faster, Sam managed to pull himself out of his lust induced stupor enough to rinse and get out of the tub, drying himself quickly. He was just on his way back into his lordship's room, when he heard the servants talking about the knights leaving for the tavern.

Sam frowned as he hid behind the door, waiting for them to leave as they laid out clean bedclothes for him across Dean's bed.

Once they were gone, Sam stepped into the bedroom, snatching up the bed clothes in one hand as he spun on his heel, sitting down on the bed, head hanging. I can have my needs met with wenches if you prefer... Dean's words echoed in Sam's mind as his face twisted into an anguished frown. "But, I didn't prefer...." Sam muttered with a sigh as he let himself fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Jealousy bloomed, hot and raw in Sam's gut at the images in his mind of Dean doing things with some tavern wench, of him kissing her and touching her the way he should be touching him.

"He's mine, dammit!" Sam pouted, swearing for the second time ever.

With a huff, Sam rolled over, crawling onto the bed, over to his side as he tossed his bed clothes away. Fine, Dean was going to be with someone else, so would he! He would conjure up his phantom knight in his mind, let his phantom knight touch him and do the things to him that should only be Dean's to do.

Flopping back against the pillows on his back, a pouting frown on his face, Sam closed his eyes. Slowly, very slowly, his frown started to melt away, as he thought of the knight from so long ago, the shadowy image that he had dreamt up as a young boy, though back then he hadn't known what his dream knight should do with him, now he did. He thought about his knight touching him and kissing him, about him caressing his flesh, trailing kisses down his body.

Sam's hand moved from the bed to his chest, slowly slipping downward, slowly, so slowly, like his knight would do his full lips, trailing across his body. Sam's opposite hand rose to slid down his side, the heel of his hand pressing hard as he slid it downward, fingertips curling around his thigh to spread his legs apart, as if it were other hands doing it, and not his own.

A soft gasp left Sam's lips as his neck arch, his cock growing impossibly harder as his other hand, the one that represented the knights lips moved downward, finger tips dancing along the length of his cock. Sam hissed in a breath through his teeth a small whimper leaving him as he pressed his lips together, back arching just slightly.

"Oh God, yes... please... more..." Sam whispered softly into the empty room.

In his mind, his knight moved upward, his lips teasing Sam's. Tilting his head back more Sam panted out his breaths, one hand circling around his cock, starting to pump slowly. "Yes... yes... I need you..." Sam gasped and strained, writhing on the bed.

Cupping his balls, Sam's back arched off the bed, a loud gasp leaving him, lips parted, his tongue darted out, the tip held out in the air just a bit as he pictured his knight tangling his around it, kissing him deeply. Sam's breaths panted harder, pre-cum pearling at the tip of his cock.

*

He'd gone into the adjoining bathchamber first, and saw that the tub was filled with now cooling water, but Samuel wasn't there. Moving to the door to his own chamber, he'd been prepared to go to Samuel's when he saw the youth on his bed, naked, writhing, and speaking out loud to an imaginary person, just the way Dean wanted him to talk when they made love. He wanted to hear 'yes please' instead of a flat voice telling him to get it over with, he wanted to hear 'more' ... wanted Sam to pull at him, want him, instead of deserting his bed the instant they were done. Now Sam was showering such affections on a phantom.

Silently, Dean dropped down into a chair near the door, leaned back and watched through slitted eyes. As his innocent's unpracticed hand pumped, and sounds broke from his throat, Dean's already raging erection became almost painful. He quickly freed his cock from his breeches and started to pleasure himself, moving to the same rhythm as Sam, but needing to go faster. He wished it was Sam's hand on him, riding his cock, letting him touch Sam the same way. He wanted it so bad, he almost groaned out loud. Samuel, need you so fucking bad it would scare you.

Sam's head turned to the side, breaths panting through parted lips as his hand continued to pump his aching cock. "Mmm... please..." Sam head turned back the opposite way as the hand at his balls squeezed slightly and Sam gasped in a breath, "Oh my God!" His body writhed against the bed, hips thrusting upward pushing his cock into his fisted hand. "Please... want more... need more..." Sam's neck arched, lips parted. "K -kiss me, rut against me... please..." Sam gasped and moaned, soft mewls and hard pants leaving him.

Only his iron will kept Dean from making sounds. It was heaven and hell, fucking his fist to the vision of his innocent doing the same, and trying not to breathe too loud, not to squirm so the chair wouldn't make noise, not to let out the groans welling up in his throat. His fist was wet with pre-cum, making his hand glide faster, harder. If only his tongue were thrusting into Samuel's sweet mouth, he could ask no more than that.

Sam was so hard, his cock a deep red, pre-cum oozing down from the tip. Sam's legs moved, sliding up, bending at the knee, then down straight as he squirmed, pressed his lips together, before his lips parted again, brow furrowing as he pleaded with the image in his head to help him, relieve the ache, to show him the way. "Kiss me again...." a small whimper tore from Sam's throat, "please..." his lips parted, tongue darting out.

"It better be ME you are seeing." He was not jealous of a phantom lover. And yet, his own bark surprised Dean, though he did not stop stroking himself. He could not.

Sam gasped loudly as his eyes opened wide, moving quickly to grab the bed linens to cover himself with, he leaned up on an elbow. Lips parted, Sam's breaths panting heavily out, cheeks flushed with desire, he gazed wide eyed at Dean, his eyes roaming over his master. "W-what are you doing here!?" Sam licked his lips, his gaze darting toward the door, before looking back at Dean. "How - how long have you been here? I thought you were," Sam frowned, "out."

Managing a wolfish grin, Dean continued stroking himself. "Doing the same thing you are... only I wasn't imagining anyone, I have a clear view." A wave of heat crashed over him, and he bit his lower lip, finally allowing himself to groan out loud. "Sam... please don't stop. Please love."

(okay - pure pimping time. pheebs1 is kindly letting me run or co-run with her spn_christmas. It just happened so plans are in the works, and we'll be off and running this weekend. Please take a look at the profile and consider posting holiday art or fic, or participating as readers. There is also a raffle *nods*... that might be a good incentive. I may come begging ... *Hugs*)

Purified By Innocence, 5/?[NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-11-30T00:58:51Z

Many thanks to naisica who not only allowed us to use her lovely manip but added text for us.

Fandom: SPN - AU - Sam/Dean are not brothers
Title: Purified By Innocence
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) and Fetish sam_dean_fetish
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; Slash; One attempted rape scene (not BY the boys)

Characters: The characters are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.
Summary: Lord Dean Winchester belongs to the secret arm of the Knights Templer, fighting supernatural horrors and demons that plague the land. Knights like Dean must be paired with an innocent who can neutralize the dark taint that builds up inside them due to their close contact with evil. Dean has selected the boy, Sam, as his innocent, and goes to claim him from the monks who have groomed and sheltered him for that purpose.
Author's Note: We have not tried to make the language sound overly medieval. Think of the Herculese t.v. show, you have the ancient Greece setting but more modern lingo is used. However, we did not go for slapstick or anything.

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

(A/N: See... we are NOT so evil ::grins::)

The group surrounding Sam parted at the sound of the hoofbeats. The knight, who'd aligned his cock to Sam's hole pulled away and was pulling his breeches back into place. There was pandemonium as the group had not seen anyone following, had thought they were safe, had been sure no one could go at the pace required to catch up to them.

The sound of hoofbeats barely registed with Sam as he trembled and cried softly, shaking his head slowly as it lay pressed against the tree bark, hands clenched into tight fists. No, God, no... Please...

Dean leaped off his horse, his gaze flashing over the scene of his innocent held by two men, the third appeared to have raped him. "Sonova..." his sword was in his hand and swinging, severing one man's arm, then the next as they held Sam. Blood spurted from their stumps, as they shouted in horror.

Released, Sam slumped onto the ground, curling up into an almost ball as he cried softly, palms pressed against the ground, head hanging, face nearly hidden by his bangs, his tears running down the bridge of his nose, dripping off onto the earth.

Peter slipped off is horse as the others clashed in battle, and Lord Winchester fought the knight who'd touched what was his. Wrapping a cloak around Samuel's pale body, Peter started to usher him to his own steed. It was a sad day for his Lordship, and for his innocent.

Feeling the warm covering, Sam turned his tear stained face, cringing away from the hands that were too close, before he saw it was Peter and moved to get to his feet with Peter's help. As he got over to the horses, Sam stood, one hand on the horse, trembling, his head bowed as he sniffled and sucked in ragged quivering breaths.

Helping Sam get on the steed, Peter mounted behind him. "This night will pass, and they will pay." Those were all the words of comfort he could offer, as he kept his eyes open in the event there was a second attack. Winchester's orders were clear, the innocent was to be saved at all costs.

Swords clashed something fierce, leaving showers of sparks in their wake. The clanging was loud at first, but slowly reduced to a mere din. Then those who had stolen the innocent lay dead on the ground, every last one of them.

Dean strode to his horse, mounted, and pulled up next to Peter's. Arms stretched out, he reached for what was his, searching Sam's face pinched with shock. He was alive, that was what was important. His Samuel was alive.

Sam looked at Dean, new tears forming in his eyes. "They said you needed me," he told him, voice small and broken, "that I had to hurry to you." Sam tore his gaze away from Dean's, hanging his head as his tears fell anew.

"Come," Dean pulled him onto his lap, unwieldy though he was, and held him close. He did not like the stench of the other men on him, but the scent of soap was still strong and covered it. "They're dead. You're..." he took a deep breath and kissed his temple. "Safe now. I wish I'd... I should never have let you alone. I am sorry they hurt you, Samuel. I'll take care of you now."

* * *

They'd ridden hard to get back to the keep. Without allowing anyone else to touch his innocent, Dean had bellowed for the servants to draw up another bath, and then had taken Sam to their room. He'd washed Sam up, as well as the blood off himself, and he'd given the boy some sleep clothes and put him inside the great bed. A fire roared in the large fireplace, and the servant brought him a warm up liquor based sleeping drought that Lady Elizabeth sent up. Knowing Sam would not be used to it, she'd sweetened it with honey and cloves.

Dean crawled onto the bed, where Sam was resting against the pillows, and put his arm out for him to come close. "Have a sip of this draught," he said, soflty, concerned eyes searching his innocent's face. It hurt.... the knowledge that he would have to search out another innocent, he wanted this one. He liked Sam's sense of humor, he liked how he felt in his arms, how he tasted. He liked how he complimented his eyes and meant it, not for his riches, not for his fame, but he told the simple truth in his heart.

Sam scooted toward Dean, laying his head on his chest as he reached for the cup with a shaking hand. Raising his head up, Sam took a sip, wincing as the alcohol hit the cuts on his lips, stinging. The liquid was warm and left a smooth burn down his throat, but it helped to chase away the chill that seemed to have settled inside of him, so he gulped a good amount down before handing the cup back.

Lowering his head to Dean's chest again, Sam moved a single digit over his master's skin in circular patterns as he stared off. Slowly, Sam's eyes slid closed as he started to relax against Dean. Licking his sore lips, Sam spoke. "He touched me," he told Dean softly, "kissed me and hit me. He wanted to know," Sam turned his head more into the flesh of Dean's chest the movement muffling his words slightly, "wanted to know what we had done. He said that he bet I begged pretty, wanted me to beg him." Sam turned his head again, forehead rolling against Dean's chest, "I told him I would rather he killed me," Sam sighed softly. "I know now what the others screamed and cried over, I think." Sam sniffled. "His - his member was at my," he couldn't bring himself to say it, to say the words. Lifting his head, Sam looked up at Dean, "He was so close to pushing himself into me ... there, I -" Sam lowered his head again, burying it against Dean's chest as he exhaled a shaky breath.

Dean had been merely holding him, rubbing his hand lightly up and down Sam's back, listening though his heart was breaking imagining the wrongs done to one so innocent of both and heart. Even the blood that had run into the earth when he was through with the cowardly brigands had not cooled his anger, nothing ever would. But Samuel's surprising statement... that he had almost but not quite pushed inside, had Dean gripping him tighter.

"He didn't... you weren't violated." Though he closed his eyes, tears streamed down his face. "Thank God... Thank God Samuel. I will keep you safe, I won't ever let anything like this happen again. Not ever, not ever," he vowed, kissing his innocent's temple. "I swear it."

Sam was growing sleepier, the events and the liquor all taking a toll on his body, his eyes drifting closed more than once before he glanced up at his master's face. Sam sniffled and raised a hand cupping Dean's cheek, his thumb running over his cheekbone, wiping away tears. "Just - just hold me and don't let go." He buried his face against Dean's neck, "I don't wanna think about it anymore," he said softly, his words muffled, hand slowly slipping down off Dean's cheek to rest against his shoulder.

"I'm holding you," Dean said hoarsely. "Never letting you go. Never." Wiping one hand over his face, he tried to think when the last time was that he cried tears and couldn't remember. "Think about home. Our home. You'll like it there, Sam, and you'll be safe. We'll be there tomorrow." He kissed him again, this time gently on the corner of his mouth. "Do you want another sip?"

Sam gave a muffled groan frowning slightly. "Mmm... maybe," pulling his head up, he braced himself on an elbow and reached for the cup. Taking another long drink he handed the cup back and licked his abused lips, a small lop-sided grin pulling at them. "My lips are numb." His smile widened before he dropped his head back down, relaxing against Dean once more. "Home. Who all lives there?" Sam asked him softly, voice slurring with sleepiness and the alcohol.

Setting the cup down, Dean leaned toward the table, taking Sam with him as he blew out the candle. Settling back down, holding him tight, he stared into the fire. "You, me, my fearsome housekeeper, my knights. Some others.... the people who live within the castle walls. About a dozen dogs, we'll need to get a basset hound or two," he smiled. "Oh, and a feline. She thinks she rules the roost."

Sam smiled softly and shook his head. "Got me, don't need a hound, remember my nose?" his smile fell away into a slight frown. "Are you going to take a wife like Sir Harry has?" Sam nuzzled closer, "Kate said she doesn't mind and Christiana said I was a fool, but I was hoping for lo-" Sam's voice trailed off as sleep claimed him.

"A wife?" The thought had never crossed his mind. "No, who would want me, hmm?" He chuckled.

Sam didn't catch much if any of what Dean had answered, already sleep had taken him, though it was a light sleep and the sound of his master's voice was comforting, causing Sam to snuggle closer, one leg moving over Dean's as Sam lay nearly on him, his face against the side of Dean's neck, warm breath puffing out from between parted lips.

"You should sleep, rest." The smile stayed on Dean's face, though this could very well have been the worst night of his life. If Samuel had been violated, though he would have taken care of the boy, kept him in his houshold if he wanted, or given him his freedom, Dean would have had to choose a new innocent. Since he'd been fighting the darkness in himself as early as his own majority, there was a good chance that he would be lost to the darkness before a new innocent that suited him was found and matured. At the time of first consummation, the innocent had to be untouched, or else he could not cleanse his knight's soul. Many knew that Lord Winchest was close to the edge, that he battled the darkness within him as much as that surrounding him these days. He had many enemies. Those who were jealous and wanted his lands. Those who were of the supernatural ilk and had an axe to grind. He hadn't bothered to find out who had hatched this plot against him, he'd been too angry, but in the end, it mattered not which enemy had reared his head. The important thing was he had Samuel back, and a second chance to keep him safe.

* * *

In the morning, as they'd left the keep, they'd passed the bodies of two men strung up outside it's walls. They were responsible for having let Dean's enemies into the keep, and their punishment had been swift. Dean had turned Sam's face away from the sight, and held him just a little tighter.

A half days ride later, Winchester Castle was visible at the top of a hill. Dean knew Sam was looking at the great structure, probably wondering whose it was. As their horses thundered through the village street, people ran to the sides of the road and pointed or clapped. "These are our people," Dean said, and there's home, he said as he lifted his eyes toward the castle.

Sam's brow furrowed as he looked toward the castle, "This is all yours?" he asked, feeling self conscious. Here he had joked with and teased Dean, told him he had nice eyes and nose and he was a powerful man. Sam hung his head feeling like a fool, no doubt Lord Winchester thought him one. Raising his head, Sam sighed as he nodded, he would have to remember with whom it was proper to do such things with, most definitely not someone like his Lordship. He glanced over toward Peter as he rode nearby. "Does Peter have his own castle too?" Sam asked, wondering if he might not have even Peter to joke with when he was unable to see Kate. Someone to talk to and let his guard down around, to be himself with.

"No," Dean chuckled. "Peter and his family live with us. He has some landholdings, but his younger brother is more suited to the life of overseeing farms." He slid his hand slowly up Sam's chest, rested his fingers on his throat as he turned him slightly. "You seem disappointed."

Sam pressed his lips together as he shook his head, "No, not disappointed, my lord, I just -" he licked his lips, "I didn't realize your standing, I guess." Sam muttered, before looking down a moment, then up, a frown creasing his brow. "Forgive my, um, naivity," he pressed his lips together once more shaking his head, "it was stupid of me."

"You mean for not standing on ceremony?" He raised a brow. "I find it refreshing, don't let this change anything." Leaning in, he brushed his mouth over Sam's, closing his eyes at the feelings that washed over him. If not for last night, the kiss would have been very different as they approached the shadow of the castle walls, very different.

Sam gave a small nervous smile as he huffed and shook his head, "I think it would serve me well not to mention your acute ability to slay those of the insect world again for fear one day I might just lose my head over it," he said, wringing his hands

"You're afraid of me now, because of last ni..." He was certain Samuel had never seen blood shed before, and he'd been brutal with those brutalizing his innocent. "I would never turn my sword against you. I wish you hadn't seen. I am not like them," he said, knowing Sam hadn't known him long enough to make any decisions about his character. "If you reserve your jesting only for Peter, I will... I'll miss it." He urged the horse faster toward their destination, trying to fight the ridiculous sense of loss developing in his heart.

They main gates were raised for them and they rode through the streets within the castle walls, people lining them to get a glimpse of their Lordship's innocent. Ordinarily, Dean would have slowed down to allow them their fill, but in light of Sam's trauma, he would instead schedule a festivity where they could meet him in a few days.

Sam didn't answerbut his eyes widened seeing Lord Winchester's splendid home. Indeed had, the stables alone seemed to be nicer than the small buildings around the monestary that had been used for different things, one of which being the prayer room for punishments.

The streets narrowed, and then widened as suddenly into a large cobbled courtyard. Charles was first to come to their side, and Dean handed Sam down. "Take him right inside."

Charles ushered Sam in, while Dean took care of a few details and followed them inside. Already Charles was introducing Sam to the staff. Dean asked for refreshments, and they headed for one of several sitting rooms. Cloaks and gloves were removed, and Dean watched his innocent trying to take all of it in at once.

Sam paced slowly about the room, looking around, his bottom lip held securely between his teeth, each person who entered and left catching and holding his attention until they disappeared once again from the room. Hands clasp behind his back, Sam continued to walk and look, peering about, even going so far as to wander to the door, but no further before turning back into the room.

Peter walked in and after seeing Sam, exchanged looks with Dean. The men started to talk, trying to put Sam at ease, but the youth seemed to still be on edge or at the very least nervous.

"Come have some refreshments," Dean said, nodding toward the settee. Pears and bread and cheese had been laid out for them, as well as water and wine. "You must be tired. I'll show you our rooms after." Again, looks were exchanged and there were some coughs.

"Beware, Sam, of Lord Winchester's rather large pet dragon," Peter said.

"I thought it was a snake," Charles said, eyes wide open in mock surprise.

Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam looked from Peter to Charles with wide eyes before a slow blush stole over his features. He managed to force himself to look at Dean. "Um, Kate and I were hoping that when next you have to leave she could come for a visit. Could she? I mean, there had been talk of maybe me going there, but I would rather not -" Sam paused, his gaze dropping for a momen., "I'd rather stay home." Sam told him as he looked back up.

"So long as your snake is holstered, Kate may visit," Dean answered.

There were guffaws from Peter and Charles, and Dean's shoulders shook, but he tried not to look too amused.

Sam looked from Dean to Peter and Charles then back to Dean a frown of confusion creasing his brow. "My snake, my Lord?" Sam shook his head slowly, "I don't... I have no pets other than the hounds back at the monastery, but they were sort of everyones, I -" Sam glanced from Dean to Peter and Charles at their snickers and bit his lip, frowning.

Clearing his throat, Dean tried again. "So long as you don't lift your robes, I am certain your snake will be confined, as it should be." He searched Samuel's face, a smile teasing the corners of his own mouth as he waited for the other boot to fall.

Sam looked at Dean in puzzlement, "My robes? I -" Sam's hands went to his robe figeting with it as he stood pondering Dean's words. A moment later Sam gasped in a breath, his cheeks turning a deep scarlet, the blush then stealing over his entire features and down his neck, even his ears seemed to be tipped with the deep crimson stain, his eyes wide as he shook his head adamently, lips parted in shock. "No, no my lord, I would never, I did not mean - I, no, no my lord!" Sam sputtered.

"It is as it should be. Dean," Peter pounded his friend on the back, "is a jealous zoo keep."

"Samuel, ignore these fools," no matter that Dean himself had taken part in the jesting, "have a drink and we'll go to our quarters."

Hanging his head in his embarrassment, Sam took a seat beside Dean, reaching for a cup. He kept his head lowered as he drank, his blush still staining his cheeks slightly. Stealing a glance at Dean, Sam smiled nervously as he shook his head, "Snake," he huffed.

Leaning in near Sam's ear, Dean whispered. "Beautiful snake, a bit shy... hides behind stones, but I'll tame it yet." Lifting his head, he looked at his friends. "Samuel asked whether you two don't need to go to your quarters to feed your little worms."

The two knights swung their gazes toward Sam in partial disbelief. They knew Dean too well.

* * *

Three days and two nights had passed and Dean had not pressed Sam for more than a few stolen kisses, having him naked in his bed, a few loving caresses, touching, but nothing more. Sam had been both relieved and confused by Dean's lack of attentions. He knew he could not ask his lordship to wait forever, knew he had obligations as an innocent and that he'd been chosen, trained and ept apart from others for a reason.

It was true, the attempted rape had weighed heavy on Sam. That first night it happened, he'd had nightmares even as Dean held him close. But soon, the dreams stopped and he stopped dwelling on what almost happened. Still, it was not that Sam was feeling any more ready to fulfill his duties than he had been before, but, as Kate said, they had a purpose and what they did helped people, just like the knights. This was his contribution to helping others.

Peter had come to see him yesterday morning to explain to Sam about the darkness that was slowly overtaking his master, about how he needed Sam and how with their coupling, Dean would find relief he could get no where else but from his innocent. Sam felt a change in Dean as well, just within the past few nights, his smile had been more strained, his demeanor less playful.

Sam sat on the edge of their great bed now, the bedcurtains drawn back on one side where he sat awaiting his lordship. Dean had told him to go up to their room, that they would have dessert in bed and Sam had left straightaway to do as he was told.

Chewing his bottom lip, Sam made a decision. Pulling from the bed, Sam walked over to the small bowl of water that had been brought in for him to wash up with and splashed more water on his already cleaned face as he took a deep breath and gathered his courage.

Reaching for the shoulder ties of his bedclothes, Sam pulled the garment from his body, letting it pool on the floor, before walking back to the bed and crawling in under the covers to wait for his lordship. This was it, he was going to give as much as he could, as much as he was able to his master, he was going to fulfill his destiny.

Walking into the room, Dean was loudly muttering about having been way laid by the cook who was complaining that Sam had confiscated a lamb as a pet. "I said alright to the two hounds, but a lamb?" About to say more, he suddenly realized Samuel was already in bed and appeared to be wearing no clothes.

His lips went dry as his gaze traveled up and down his innocent's chest, then up to meet his eyes. Ordinarily, he was the one who had to ask Sam to disrobe for him. "Are you too warm?" The fires were blazing and had taken the chill out of the room, but that didn't give him the entire explanation.

Sam pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head, his gaze locked with Dean as he raised up on one elbow to look over at him, half laying on his side. "No, my lord," his gaze flickered to the fire, then back to Dean's eyes, "are you?"

"Seeing you like this gets me warm," he agreed, trying to force humor into his voice but afraid Sam would see through him, and be afraid of what he saw. He'd clamped down on his needs, had slaked his lust on his own imagining his innocent, but the hunger inside him was becoming more voracious and he was afraid he'd go back on a promise, or make Sam see him like he did the other knights who had ravished their innocents. Especially after what happened to Sam, it was the last thing he wanted.

Crossing the room, he sat on the edge of the bed and started to undress. "Would you like some wine?"

Sam managed to keep his gaze on Dean and not look down at his words, the only show that the words made Sam any more nervous were the small movement of Sam's fingers in the bed linens, pulling the linens into his hands.

Sam licked his lips as he watched Dean move toward the bed and sit. "I probably should but I think perhaps I need my head about me," Sam hung his head shyly, before raising it again and forcing the words past his lips, though they were soft. "If things go as I have always dreamed, I would like very much to remember it." Again Sam's fingers nervously pulled material into his hands which fisted loosely in the linens.

Lost in his own private battle, Dean wasn't in the frame of mind to unravel puzzles. "Hmm? Dreams, what dreams?" Getting up, he dropped his heavy belt down on the chair, stripped off his tunic and took off his boots. He went ahead and poured two goblets of wine, and brought over the strawberries that had been left in the room for them. Placing the plate between them, he rolled on his side to look over at Sam.

Sam shook his head to Dean's question about dreams. It wasn't important and impossible to explain a young teen's daydreams of how his life would be, how the master he had never met would treat him.

As Dean settled on the bed, Sam raised his gaze to Dean's face. "Sorry about the lamb, my lord," he mumbled. "She had soft eyes, like yours, I couldn't let anything happen to her," he told him softly, a shy smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Dean frowned. His eyes were not as soft as a lambs. His innocent must be seeing things...

Nervous and unsure how to offer himself to Dean, Sam lay on his side just looking at him for a long while before he started to worry his bottom lip. "My lord, do you -" Sam looked down, watched his fingers move in the linens for a moment before looking back up. "Do you not want me as your innocent anymore?"

The question startled him. "Why would you think such a thing?" During the silence that followed, Dean's mind spun. "Because you were touched?" He shook his head, "I don't hold that against you, how could I?"

Sam worried his lip a few more moments before taking a deep breath. "Then why," he licked his lips, "why do you not touch me like you used to? I thought... Peter said that you needed me and yet," Sam worried his lip again, "Am I not appealing any more? Do you still see that knight touching me?" Sam shook his head. "I'll do whatever you ask of me to rid you of the vision. I didn't want him to, I told him it would get him no where, that you wouldn't care. I tried to get them to see, but -" Sam clamped his mouth shut, feeling like now he was begging, begging for something he didn't even know.

Pulling the linens high on his body, Sam shook his head. "Nevermind, my lord, I do not mean to trouble you. I just wanted to give you what you needed, I thought it was me, I --"

A muscle pulsed in Dean's jaw as he listened. He didn't like the reminder of the details of that night, but his entire body started to hum when he realized what Samuel was saying. "Are you... you want to seduce me?"

Reaching out, he pulled the sheets back down to where they'd been before, so he had an enticing view of Sam's chest. Raising his eyes, he allowed Sam to see the full extend of the heat of his desire. "I want you more every moment that I know you, but I am afraid I will be too rough, especially after what happened that..." he nodded. "The need to kiss you, to take your mouth with mine, to have you naked and writhing under me, to make you call my name... to beg," he ran a hand over his face, knowing those men had demanded Sam beg, but he told Sam the truth anyway, "it's always there, beneath the surface. I have to fight not to act on it. I practice swordplay with my men, sometimes all day to try to stop thinking about it, about you, to tire myself... to give you time."

His fingers closed over he side of the plate. "So many times, in the middle of the day, I have found myself coming inside, ready to order you to our bed, only to stop because I do not want to be equated with them, those men, or the knights you heard at the monastery."

Dean took a breath. "If you knew what was inside me, or even understand what I just told you, I know you would want to run and hide from me." He paused. "I do not know your dreams. I know that when I thought you'd been violated, that I'd have to choose a new innocent, it was the worst moment of my life. Even then, it was my intention to keep you... like Elizabeth and Kate, because I could not give you up even if you could no longer serve your function. Learning the truth... that you hadn't been violated ... was the best moment of my life." He'd cried with joy, though his innocent could not know it.

As Sam listened, his heart filled with feelings for his knight, it made his heart soar and his lips quirk upward, though he bit his lip so he wouldn't smile for fear that it was not what he should do just now.

Pressing a hand, palm flat on the bed, Sam slid closer to Dean, then reached for the plate, turning to lay it behind him on the bed, before sliding closer again until they were but a breath away from one another. Reaching a hand up, Sam cupped Dean's cheek, letting his thumb run slowly over his cheek bone as slightly slanted champagne hazels gazed into brilliant green.

Leaning in, his dark lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes, Sam pressed his lips up against Dean's, breathing in Dean's breath, breathing out past Dean's parted lips. "An innocent could dream no better than this," he whispered, his lips brushing against Dean's as he spoke.

The scent of his innocent, the heat from his body, sent incredible waves of need through Dean. "A knight could choose no better," he answered, skimming Sam's mouth with his.

Sam sighed softly against Dean's lips as he reached for his hand, pulling it slowly toward himself. "T - touch me, my lord.," Sam asked placing Dean's hand on his chest.

Dean's heart slammed into his chest. Bracing himself on his elbow, he pushed his hand down, moving the sheet off Sam's body to his waist, and leaning in, nuzzling his throat as he explored his body slowly, memorizing it. They hadn't bathed together again, but the memory of Sam on top of him, finding his pleasure to completion for the first time, had Dean in his grips. "That night in the tub... do you ever think about that?" he asked thickly, moving his mouth down, kissing Sam's chest, licking and teasing him with his tongue.

Sam swallowed, his eyes closed, lips parted. "I - I think about why it is that you do not want that anymore, I worry that I no longer please you, I wonder at my purpose and if I will please you. I - it was frightening, but I liked it, liked feeling you, kissing you," Sam shook his head, "I - I don't know why you ask."

"I ask because I think of that moment often with pleasure, and it makes me ache between my legs." He lifted his face. "I want to know if it is the same for you."

Sam's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out, his eyes widening slightly as he shook his head. "I - we aren't suppose to - I," Sam licked his lips and ducked his head, a deep stain spreading across his cheeks. "I thought about it once but I had to stop," he mumbled softly.

Dean groaned at the idea, and at Sam's innocence. "Will you do it for me now?" he asked, pulling back and lifting the sheets, his gaze locked on Sam's semi-hard member. "Touch yourself and think of me."

Sam shifted nervously, fighting against the desire to cover himself. "N - now, my lord?" he asked, eyes wide. Licking his lips, Sam eased himself down onto the pillows, laying on his back. Closing his eyes, Sam thought back to when they were in the tub together, the way his lordship had kissed him, how he had kissed in return, the feel of his body sliding against his aching cock as he rutted against his master, the sweet ache that had him holding onto Dean tighter.

One of Sam's hands moved off the bed to his chest, slowly sliding downward, stopping just above his pelvic bone, his hips slowly thrusting upward just slightly off the bed, his cock hard and starting to ache with want. Sam's lips parted, his breaths quickening as he shifted against the bed, a soft low moan spilling from his lips.

Dean held his breath, his gaze shifting from Sam's hand and cock, to his face, and back. Sam's fingers were only inches from his thickening arousal, and if Dean didn't know better, he'd say Sam was teasing him. "Go on. Please," he said, letting his fingers dance down Sam's side, and his thigh. "Touch, now."

A strangled whimper sounded in Sam's throat before his neck arched, lips parting as a puff of breath left him in a rush and his hand movrf down to wrap around his cock, though he simply held himself. Sam's head thrashed on the pillow, his hips bucking harder as he ran his thumb over the tip of his cock, his back nearly arching. His breaths panted out, his brow creasing. Sam pulled his hand away from himself, back up onto his stomach, fingertips digging into his own flesh. He licked his lips as he turned his head toward Dean, lashes fluttering as he opened them, "Please," he begged breathlessly, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

Dean was so hard from watching his innocent's efforts, his breeches threatened to cut the blood supply to his cock. Dean undid them, then pushed them down together with his brais. He let Sam see what he was doing to him, that he wasn't alone. "Do you want me to touch you?" he asked, meeting Sam's tortured gaze.

Sam nodded his head slightly, his eyes passion heavy as he gazed at Dean. "And - and kiss me?" Sam asked him softly before tilting his head back and parting his lips, lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes, waiting expectantly.

Dean smirked, bent over, and kissed Sam's cock... on its tip, then down its length, than again on its tip, before lifting his head and easing back onto his side. "Anything for you, Samuel," he said, sliding his hand up Sam's thigh, to his stomach, and closing his fist around Sam's shaft. He squeezed gently a few times, then started to stroke slowly, his thumb stimulating the sensitive area of his crown.

Sam gasped in a breath and raised his head off the pillows slightly, his eyes opening to mere slits as he looked down for a moment at himself, before his head fell back on the pillows. He licked his lips, a soft moan sounding deep in his throat as his head slowly rolled to the side. The corners of his lips twitched upward, "Wasn't - wasn't quite what I meant," he gave a breathy chuckle before another moan tore from his lips, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he writhed against the bed, legs bending and straightening as his hips moved slowly.

"No? Did you have something more like this in mind?" Dean asked, dipping his head down and nipping Sam's side with his teeth. He licked the spot better, sucked the taut flesh inside his mouth, then lifted up again. He never stopped stroking Sam's cock, but he spread his innocent's pre-cum so that his hand glided more easily over his flesh. "Hmm?" His mouth was close enough to Sam's now, that his innocent could steal a kiss.

Sam's breaths panted out, his chest rising and falling slightly faster, "Mmm, no, not that either." Sam arched his back slightly, his hips thrusting his cock into Dean's hand, "N - not that I minded either one," he licked his lips as he nodded, "I liked them," he said lifting his head slightly to brush his lips across Dean's. "More."

Rolling half over Sam, Dean took his mouth, this time in a less than controlled scorching kiss, his tongue delving in and out of his mouth. The dark fires within him roared alive, reminded him that Samuel was his.

Sam moaned into Dean's mouth, slight fear mixed with something else, that other thing that happened when he thought about Dean, about touching, kissing, that made his heart beats quicken along with his breaths.

"Meant for me," Dean said, between hard kisses, "mine, Sam, from the moment I laid eyes on you, mine."

Yes, yours, Dean. Always. Sam's hips thrust up against Dean as he ground himself against his master, moans breaking from deep in his throat.

He took a couple of deep, labored breaths as he stared down at his innocent, then brought his mouth down again, forcing his tongue inside, claiming him as his.

As Dean's mouth claimed his again, Sam moaned, wrapping his arms around him, fingertips digging into the flesh of Dean's back.

So sweet, every one of his reactions so real, so true. Every sound, every one of his innocent's movements fanned the flames of Dean's desire. His kisses became harsher, his grinding more frenzied, needing and taking from his innocent, holding him more aggressively, possessively.

Sam's breaths came harder, his heart hammering hard in his chest, the sound of it in his ears. His lord's kisses were harder, rougher than he could remember them being, not the soft gentle ones like in the tub. These hurt nearly as badly as the knight who had hit him, but Sam didn't refuse, didn't stop Dean, instead opening his mouth to him as he tried to meet each frenzied thrust with his own.

"Want to fuck you, want it so bad," Dean said, moving his mouth to Sam's ear, "want to be inside you."

Sam gasped in a breath, his head turning to the side, eyes closed as he panted, thrusting, arching against Dean. This was it, this was what Peter had told him Dean needed, it was what he was for, why he was. This was how he would help save people and he would be strong and unafraid like the knights who fought evil things. Sam pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring with his panted breaths as he nodded.

Dean found himself spreading Sam's legs wide, positioning himself, not remembering having done so..."Slow me down... Samuel,..." he practically shouted, afraid for his innocent.

Sam's eyes snapped open, lips parting in a gasp of air. What had happened? What was wrong? Sam frowned, before grimacing in slight pain of too hard a thrust against him, lips parting as he panted. "S'okay, take what you need," he panted out, neck arching back as he grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed, hands digging his fingertips into Dean's flesh.

"No. Want it right... want it like you dream, slow me down. Slow me down Goddammit," he snarled even as he started to lift Sam's hips up and rubbed his cock against the cleft of his ass, seeking his hole, imagining breaching him, claiming him.

Sam shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. "I - I don't know how! Just - just do it, don't make me look, just do it!" Sam practically shouted back through gritted teeth.

A terrible undeniable need crawled through Dean's system, whispering, clawing at him, demanding he take Sam right now, with no preliminaries, no preparations, make him his. Sink into him, find salvation, heal the burns that were etched onto his soul, invisible to all, but there just the same. "Fuck... Samuel, help me," he demanded hotly against his lips. "I - don't - want - to - be - like - them."

Sam opened his eyes as he reached up with one hand to cup the back of Dean's neck, his gaze locking with Dean's. Shyness, embarrassment, the terror that he would be laughed at all raged inside of him, but he had told himself he was going to be brave and he would be. Sam licked his lips, "Do you love me?" he asked him breathlessly, his voice soft and small, though his gaze never wavered.

"Do I... oh God, Sam... this isn't the time to talk... fuck," he got up on his knees, pulled Sam closer, "tell me to stop. Push me. Remind me of my promises," he said through gritted teeth, as his control over his body started to slip. "Before I..."

Sam took a deep breath and turned his head, no longer looking at Dean. "It wasn't a difficult question," he mumbled softly. Turning his attention back to Dean, he looked at him through hurt narrowed eyes. "No," he shook his head, reaching out with one hand, he planted it against the wall, the other he lifted above his head and pressed back against the headboard, pushing himself at Dean. "Just DO IT!" he yelled at him through gritted teeth, neck arched back.

"Sam... Sam..." he pleaded, but there was nothing left in him to fight with. His body raged and clenched... needing release, release that only his innocent could offer him. He pulled Sam's cheeks apart, his head arching back as he plunged his cock deep inside his virgin, his innocent, Sam's name coming out of the back of his throat in choked plea. "Oh God..." he was finally inside his innocent's velvet hot sheath. "So tight, so damned tight."

As Dean plunged deep inside him, Sam's eyes snapped open wide, a cry of pain tearing from his lips before he could stop it. Sam breathed through the pain, it hurt, hurt horribly. He bit his lip until he tasted his own blood, squeezing his eyes closed as he did. His hands pulled away from the wall and headboard, curling into fists where they lay as he tried not to move too much, tried to think of something else, of running in the monastery yard with Christiana of laughing and day dreaming about finding love.

The urge to fuck was riding him hard. Dean growled as he fought it, moving as slowly as he could, knowing he'd already done wrong by Sam. The apology stuck in his throat, but he tried to allow Sam's body to adjust, he gripped Sam's hips, fingers bruising his innocent, trying to focus on anything but his needs.

Sam didn't know how long he laid there like that, with Dean just barely moving, but the pain started to ease into a dull aching burn, eased enough that he pulled his arms down, though his hands remained in tight fists, his eyes closed. "Take what you need and let me go to my room.... please," Sam said softly.

His innocent was rejecting him, that much made it through the haze of Dean's lust. A cry broke from his throat, a mixture of sorrow and rage. There were no longer any rules, no promises to keep, just nature... just letting what had to be take its course. Dean pulled almost out, then thrust hard, blinded by white lights behind his eyelids as pleasure and pain washed over him. He repeated the motion, and then found a rhythm, moving in and out of his innocent, angling his thrusts, moaning his pleasure as the darkness within him was scoured by the good and innocence in Sam.

Sam raised a hand, covering his mouth so he wouldn't make a sound, bit his lip so hard he felt his blood trickle down his chin behind his hand, but he lay perfectly still and he didn't shed a single tear, he was brave, he was as brave as any knight as he let his lordship take what he needed to be free of the evil that plagued him.

Feeling Samuel tense under him and hearing no sounds of pleasure anymore, Dean rushed to find his release. With quick, deliberate movements, he reached his peak, his back stiffening, his grip on Sam tightening as he came hard inside him, filling him with his hot seed, and slowly relaxing his muscles. "Samuel?"

Swallowing hard at the silence echoing around them, Dean kissed him. "I'm sorry. I tried." He searched his innocent's face visible by firelight. "I'll make it better for you next time." He swept his hand over Sam's cock, trying to pleasure him while he was still inside him.

Sam pulled his hand down from his mouth, wiping away the blood that had trickled down his chin, his bottom lip bright red with it. "Please, if you are finished, let me up," he asked, eyes still closed. "I would like to go to my room."

"Samuel." Swallowing hard, he pulled gently out and started to wipe him down with a linen, but seeing how stiff he was, Dean dropped the linen in his lap. "I am finished," he echoed tightly.

Sam gave a curt nod and slid away from Dean, only opening his eyes once he knew he no longer faced him. Sam slid off the side of the bed, retrieving his bed clothes off the floor and quickly put them on before half stumbling to the door and was out without another word.

Once inside his room, Sam closed the door and went to his bed, laying down on his stomach, Sam buried his face in the pillows and wept softly, not for what had happened as much as for the loss of a love that he had never truly had. Christiana was right, he was a fool.

Three minutes later, the big heavy wooden chest in Dean's room went crashing to the floor, and his Lordship left the room, the door slamming behind him. By the time he was part way down the hallway, guards started to approach to see what was amiss, only to have orders barked at them. Dean wanted his horse waiting, and the gates opened, and no Goddamit, he did not want an escort.

* * *

The castle inhabitants were a bit subdued. Lord Winchester had bitten several heads off, broken his fast before the kitchen staff were prepared to serve, and was out surveying the defenses, and finding fault with everything. When Samuel appeared at the breakfast table, many eyes were on him, wondering if he knew what was amiss.

With what seemed like every eye in the hall on him, as if they all knew what had transpired the night before, Sam was starting to wonder if Dean had been up bright and early telling of how he'd finally gotten his innocent to do his duty. By the time Sam had managed to scarf down a couple slices of bread and some fruit he was feeling more than a little self conscious so he took off to find the stables and animals where he knew he wouldn't get looked at as though he were his lordship's tavern wench or worse.

Walking out to the stables, a slice of bread left in his hand, Sam went to the sheep that he had saved from the cook and sat down on his knees beside her, reaching out with his free hand to pet the animal as he fed her his bread with the other. "Hey, you. How are you, huh? A lot better than in the kitchens, I'll bet," Sam mumbled to the animal, smiling as he watched her eat.

"Now if you got an answer out of it, we'd have an exorcism to perform," Peter drawled, having seen Sam walk in and come to see what he was doing.

Sam looked up, smiling wide at the knight, "Good morning, my lord." Sam looked back at the sheep and shrugged a shoulder. "She talks, sort of, in the way she acts, I mean. And at least she doesn't keep her love from you." His smile faded as he frowned, concentrating on petting the animal for a few moments before he looked back over at Peter, smiling again, "so how are you today?"

The knight gave a wince. "In truth I have the headache. His Lordship thinks that due to my age, he needs to shout in my ear," he nodded. "And you? How are you?"

Sam frowned as his gaze darted past Peter, looking for Dean, then he looked back at the knight and shrugged a shoulder. "I'm alright." he answered softly as he hung his head, quickly returning his attention to the sheep. After a moment, he looked back at Peter. "Do we have more animals? We need more animals," Sam nodded.

"More animals for what?" He'd seen the look Sam threw over his shoulder. "I believe he is in the armory at the moment."

Sam shrugged a shoulder, "Mmm." He focused on petting the sheep a few more minutes then pulled to his feet, brushing off his breeches, "More animals," Sam nodded, "for me to love, of course." Sam rolled his eyes, "what else?" Sam started to walk toward the stalls, "what about the horses? Do we have colts? What about pigs? Chickens? goats?"

"Ah... I suppose, yes. You'll need to ask someone else about them, I'm a knight," he reminded Sam, as if that ought to be obvious. "I did see them bring in your horse," he confided. "But I don't think riding lessons will begin today." Based on Dean's thunderous expression whenever his innocent was mentioned, Peter was quite sure they wouldn't.

Sam froze mid-step, "I get to have riding lessons?" he asked Peter, a wide smile splitting his face, making his dimples show. "That will be wonderful," he nodded. Sam looked off toward the small homes within the castle walls, "I, um, I'll be back later, I'm going to go exploring," he said with a smile, before heading off toward the houses in the distance.

Shaking his head, Peter followed him out of the stables and then told two men to escort Sam. Dean would have all of their heads if anything else happened to his innocent, their spat aside.

Hours later, half the castle folk were in the dining hall eating. Dean's expression was somber as he kept looking at the stairs and wondering whether Sam was locked up in his chambers. Peter had told him he was out and about, but a long time had passed since. "Wine."

The single word had two servants rushing to serve him.

Sam walked into the dining hall, a wide smile on his face, his head tucked low as he spoke sweetly with the new love in his arms. Hearing Peter's voice, Sam looked up, grinning and ran forward, "My lord, Peter! My lord! Look what I got! Look what I got!" Sam called to him, nearly dropping the tiny kitten he was holding twice and having to stop to grab onto the thing once again as it tried to climb him.

Sam came to a halt before Peter, grinning as he showed him the tiny white fluffball. "Rebecca from one of the houses inside the castle walls, she had a bunch of kittens and told me I could have one! Isn't he cute!?"

Putting his elbow on the table, Dean rested his chin on his hand, eyes narrowing to slits as his innocent completely and obviously ignored him in front of his household, and instead spoke with Peter. And what was that squirming within his hand? He quelled an internal groan... another animal.

"Cats are bad luck," Peter pronounced. "You should drown the thing before it brings more." His eyes darted to Charles, seeking aid.

Sam gasped, his eyes widening as he took a step back, hugging the kitten closer. "No! It's mine, I want to keep him!" Sam smiled down at the furball that tried to bat at his long bangs. "It loves me." Sam said in baby talk, before rubbing noses with the animal.

"Aye... as would any starving thing," Peter answered. "You make a good.. mother."

There were ample looks of commiseration aimed at Dean. He gave a world weary shrug, and sighed. "Serve the meats." His gaze was on Samuel, his eyes willing him to take a seat next to him, where he belonged.

Sam took a few steps backward plopping down on the seat next to Dean, his gaze and smile still aimed at Peter. "I am not a mother," he chuckled and rolled his eyes as he shook his head.

Turning around his gaze landed on Dean for the first time that day and Sam's smile fell away, as he hung his head. "Thank you, my lord," he hefted the kitten closer, "for the kitten."

Dean nodded, thought he did not recall approving the cat, then all hell broke loose.

At that exact moment, four of Sam's dogs came bounding into the hall and straight to Sam, jumping up to paw at him, whining for his attention. Sam laughed and turned to pet each one, asking for kisses as he turned his head so the dogs could lick his cheeks. "Aww, you're a good kisser, yes you are, yes you are." He baby talked to each in turn, petting them and showing them the kitten, this is your new brother his name is..." Sam blinked, then frowned. He hadn't thought of a name for the kitten yet. "Um, well, I dunno yet, but we'll think of something," he told the dogs with a nod. "Yes we will, yes we will." Again with the baby talk.

Clearing his throat, Dean took a breath. "Where did these dogs come from. We have enough castle dogs..." He motioned to a servant, "take them outside."

Sam looked up at him, "Um, well, I, that is." He bit his lip and held the kitten out toward Dean, "Wanna hold my kitten?" Sam asked him with a grin, before glancing back toward the dogs as they were taken out. "Don't hurt my dogs! Bridgette's pregnant!" Sam called to the servant before clearing his throat and looking back at Dean. "Well, she is," he mumbled, hanging his head slightly as he hugged his kitten to his chest.

Dean's eyes widened... pregnant. "I asked for wine." He didn't know when, but he'd drained the goblet. He gave the little runt on Sam's chest a resentful look. What had it done to deserve to be that close to his innocent? To get the benefit of his cooing? "It's ah... it's... nice," he said, stroking the thing with one finger, before moving back to allow the servant to serve him meat.

Sam smiled at Dean's praise of his kitten. "Can I take him to my room with me?" Sam asked him as he reached for a piece of meat only to give it to the feline on his lap as he waited for Dean's answer. Sam licked his lips, "Peter said that he doesn't know how many animals we have, I asked him if we had," Sam shrugged a shoulder, "pigs and chickens and goats and stuff, because I think we need those."

Dean rubbed his forehead. "Yes, yes... and yes we do, but they are not coming inside." There was the ring of finality to his words. "Eat your meal, Samuel." He searched his innocent's face again, and confirmed there wasn't even the hint of the former fondness he'd had for him. Lips pressed into an unhappy white line, he chose to drink and not eat.

Sam shrugged, "Didn't ask that, my lord," he muttered softly. Placing his kitten up on his shoulder, Sam tilted his head so the tiny thing could get comfortable and find a place to lay while he ate. Sure, he had to hold his head funny and he couldn't move fast for fear his new pet would fly right off his shoulder, but he was able to lay his head over on him and when he wanted to and that made him smile while he ate.

Once he had finished eating, Sam sat silently, his head bowed waiting to be excused from the table, not speaking to anyone or anything, his kitten having fallen fast asleep up on his shoulder.

The entire meal passed, and still Samuel didn't utter a word, other than to respond to his inquiries with one or two word answers. Dean's mood only darkened. Pushing up from the table, he strode away, knowing full well everyone's eyes were on him.

Sam looked up after Dean walked away, his eyes on Peter. "May I be excused, my lord?" Once Sam was given the okay to leave the table he walked in the opposite direction as Dean, taking his kitten and himself up to his room.

* * *

By the end of supper, Dean's patience was nearly at an end. Sam's blatant efforts to ignore him, his refusal to look at him unless absolutely necessary, and his open affections for everyone except himself, from Peter to the lowly swine, was grating on his nerves. When the ballad singers got up to entertain the household as they ate their dessert, he got up and then motioned to Charles to follow.

"Where to?"

"Tavern." Perhaps the ride and change of scenery would calm him before he had to face his innocent again.

Two others joined them, as they rode out of the castle and into the town below.

Peter looked down into his plate. This did not bode well. His gaze landed on Sam, then pulled away. They would have to find a way to make this work, or everyone else would suffer. In truth, it had all seemed to be going well. His Lordship and his innocent had appeared to be well matched, and he'd sensed real affection between them.

Dragon Spell 4/? [NC-17] Dean/Sam, SPN Xover Dragonriders of Pern

2009-11-29T02:22:02Z

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Title: Dragon Spell
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) & brimstonegold
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: SPN X-over Dragonriders of Pern (by Ann McCaffrey)
Ratings/Warnings: NC 17, some non-con/rape, hurt/comfort, fantasy world, Wincest/incest
Summary: Snooping around in his father's storage locker, Sam touches something he shouldn't and gets sucked into a world where dragonriders must protect their world from a continuous threat of threafall. Dean follows and finds Sam has lost his memories. Until they get out of this mess, they have to ‘make like the natives.’

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

Dean took a deep breath of the salt tinged air and looked around the beach, the cliffs behind him, and the vast sea or ocean in front of him. All right... so no city, or town... shit, he'd hoped he'd land somewhere where someone might have seen Sam when he was the 'incoming.' At least he'd kept his memory, that was good.

He got up and started patting his pockets. Something was off. He looked down, and found he was wearing some sort of pajama pants and a long shirt. What the fuck? He quickly felt his chest and relaxed slightly when he felt his amulet was still there. His watch was gone, but his ring and bracelet were on his hand. There were no pockets on these new clothes, but on the ground, he found the mp3 player, the letter he'd written, a pencil, some change and his silver knife. None of his other weapons or things had made it. Dean scratched his head wondering why his swiss army knife hadn't made it nor his matches or lighter, why his watch was gone but his mp3 player had come through, and why his ball point pen was gone but his pencil wasn't. It didn't make sense that the trip through the looking glass would snatch some stuff that might be considered higher tech and leave his mp3 player. Maybe the scroll didn't know what to make of it? Well, at least he had some stuff, though he was irritated his flask of whiskey hadn't made it through. Dammit, he could use a swig about now.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, he started to walk. No idea where he was going but clearly there was nothing here. He'd need to find shelter and water, if the sun was gonna beat down on him like this all damned day.

B'tan had been fighting Threads for half a turn now, joining the ranks as soon as he and his dragon were ready. Weyrlingmaster D'rak pushed them hard because dragonriders had to be in the air as soon as possible and some were younger than perhaps they should be. Smaller holds had been forced to evacuate and join the larger holds because there simply weren't enough dragons to cover all the previously inhabited regions to protect them from the fall of thread.

The Illness had taken care of any problems with the Holds being over-crowded. The dragons concentrated on protecting the areas over the crops and grazing fields. The grubs took care of threads that burrowed into the soil but fields and orchards could be severely damaged before the thread reached the ground. All the dragons of Pern were split into three shifts and managed to protect enough of the crops to feed the people of the holds and weyrs. Still, it was easy to get tired, easy to make mistakes and there were so few dragons and so much ground to protect. Clutches of new eggs were small in number and the situation was worse if the dragonets failed to survive. Many believed it was just a matter of time. If the dragons died out, the whole world was doomed.

This threadfall had finally reached the ocean. K'tol ordered the dragons to do their final fly overs and confirm the thread was safely out to sea. B'tan and his bronze, Ithiel, turned, running a final check in their area to ensure the last fringes of the thread were burned to ash. Perhaps it was because it was the end of the shift. Perhaps is was because they were both tired. Perhaps it was just fate.

A patch of thread slipped through the cracks of the scattered dragons overhead...and found B'tan and Ithiel.

The pain was blinding as the thread scored B'tan's face and down his chest and leg. Because of the angle, because they were turning, B'tan's neck was exposed and more thread burned its way down his neck and chest. Another thread writhed over his hand and burned through the riding strap. Ithiel's right wing was scored, thread finding one of the tender spots where the wing folded, and another fell where critical muscles aided in the beat of his wings and then ran down the bronze dragon's foreleg, wreaking damage as it went. More slipped over its haunch and tail and neck. Rider and dragon screamed in unison with agony.

As Ithiel plummeted he prepared to jump between when the scored strap, the injured hand and leg of his rider all conspired as one, coupled with the sudden twist Ithiel made to try to escape additional threads; B'tan lost his grip, lost his seat and fell from Ithiel's back. Fortunately they were low and over water. The impact was still hard and B'tan felt the scoring split open and blood begin to escape into the salty ocean.

Dean had been watching the strange clumps fall out of the sky and into the ocean, wondering what the fuck they were. Then the sky was filled with large flying things for just a moment, and then they disappeared. All but one.

What the... that was a dragonrider... that was a falling dragonrider. Seeing both man and the incredibly large bronze colored dragon plunge into the ocean, Dean dropped his stuff on the shore, took his boots off and ran into the surf shouting. He could see the dragon lift out of the water, hover, its large head and neck, dipping into the water every once in a while. Oh God, please let it not try to eat me... cause I got no clue how to fight one of those things.

With long strokes, Dean swam out toward the man. One of those patches falling from the sky hit his raised arm and he shouted fucking murder. The sharp pain was dulled the instant his arm was back in the water, but it had felt like the thing was eating him, burning through his flesh like acid, until the water made it let go or neutralized it. Now he had to watch for shit falling from the sky as he swam.

Dean finally reached the man who had slipped under the water. Diving in repeatedly, he searched the area. His fingers slipped off something that felt like leather. He dove in again, reached and wrapped an arm around the leather clad man's waist and swam for the surface. Taking deep breaths, Dean managed to hook an arm around the man's neck and chin, and started to swim toward shore. The dragon flew right over them, occasionally getting its face so close Dean felt his heart slam into his chest. Maybe it wasn't violent but what if it didn't get he was saving this man, his rider?

Ithiel screamed and roared his fears as he circled them dangerously low because his own injuries prevented him from climbing. {{Mine, I can't hear you. Mine... breathe, you must breathe.}}

Dean muttered under his breath about all the noise, and pulled himself and the man out of the water and onto the beach. "What the fuck?" The man was burned clear to the bone on one side. That stuff that had burned his own arm... that's what had happened to the man.

"Can you hear me..." Dean held the man's nose and started administering CPR, "Come on... come on..."

Disorientation filled B'tan as he felt the lips leave his own and he coughed out the water and drew in a painful breath. Sheer agony. B'tan had never been scored before, though he had heard how painful it was. Painful. Agony. None of it really defined the pain he felt. His pain. Ithiel's pain. His bronze dragon's fear and despair. He tried to blink away the salt water from his eyes and the darkness that seemed to ring his vision. He saw a man staring worriedly at him, on his knees beside him. The man had pulled him from the water. He knew that. The darkness drew him a little deeper. He was bleeding. He knew his arm was broken from his fall. But it seemed so inconsequential.

And he knew he was dying.

B'tan had fought for Pern. He had become one of the elite, a dragonrider. His parents were both so proud of him, as was his sister. And if he died, Ithiel would go between, never to return. Pern couldn't afford another loss of a dragon. Ithiel was a bronze, one of the larger ones at Ista. He was strong. B'tan struggled against the dark, but it hurt too much and the darkness promised relief from his pain.

{Ithiel, don't follow me. Don't go 'between'. Pern needs you.} he mentally spoke desperately to his dragon. He looked up into the green-eyed man's face. "Thank you for trying," he whispered.

"What? No. No, Goddamit, don't you die on me. I'll get you help, and for your pet too. You're gonna be alright." Even as the words fell from his lips, Dean realized they were lies, the man was slipping away and with Dean having no idea where to go, where to get help quickly enough, there wasn't a fucking thing he could do. He licked his lips. "What... what's your name?"

Ithiel landed on the sand, his head butting the man away as he stared into the dying eyes of his rider. {{This is not how it ends, not in the songs you sang to me. Do not go...}}

A wave of sadness slammed into Dean at the high pitched lamenting sounds coming from the dragon.

"We were going to fly that black queen when she rose, even if she did have a male rider. Sam's a good dragonrider though. Taught us a lot. And we were going to win them." B'tan reached out weakly to touch Ithiel's muzzle. His eyes shifted to the man who had saved him and he reached out to him. "Don't let Ithiel go between. Don't let him die," he begged and waved Dean to his side. When Dean was close enough he took Dean's hand and pressed it against his dragon's hide.

{Accept him, take him, give him your love. Live for me, Ithiel. Please, live for me.} B'tan's hand fell into the sand as his eyes closed and his final breath whispered from his lips.

"Sam, did you say Sam?" Dean didn't look at the dragon as he shook the dying man hoping he would hang on a little longer. "Dammit." Turning to the dragon who was now making increasingly louder keening noised, and afraid it would turn on him, Dean's eyes met the creature's large eyes. A wave of sadness, rivaling that which he'd felt when Sam went missing, swept through him. "I tried..." he slapped the creature lighty and was about to pull away to escape this strange dizzy sensation and the feeling that he was about to drown in sorrow, when he heard a rumbling voice inside his head.

{{I know, I saw. He... he was MINE.}}

"What? Did you say that? Dean was wide-eyed and still fighting the feelings threatening to overwhelm him.

{{He was MINE, and he is no more. I want to go 'between.' He asked that I love you.}}

{What?}

{{Clearly you're not as smart as he is.}}

{What...}

{{Your vocabulary could use help.}} Ithiel's eyes sparkled with tears, even as he struggled to carry out B'tan's impossible last wish.

{Now wait a minute... a dragon who...} Suddenly Dean saw much more than a dragon, which in and of itself was fantastic, but he saw and felt something... admiration.... no, love... a tie that was forming, binding him to the creature. {I don't understand. Ithiel?"}

Ithiel nudged his shoulder with his snout. {{What is to understand? You are MINE now.}}

Before Dean could answer, the sky filled with dragons and riders. As the dragons trumpeted their sorrow, keening in unison in a tragic lament, Dean gripped the ridges on his dragon's neck. {Stay with me. Don't... don't do that thing, going 'between.' Somehow Dean knew if anything happened to this dragon, now his dragon, he would be half the man he was, if not less than that.

Nimarath immediately reported to his rider of B'tan's injury, of Ithiel's injury.

{{They did not go home. B'tan fell into the water. Someone is helping him.}} Nimarath informed him.

Thread hadn't quite cleared one part of the land and K'tol had no choice but to stay and help keep the thread from infesting the fields of fruit there.

{Keep me updated,} K'tol told his dragon. He had no idea who would be out during a threadfall, but if they were helping the rider, it meant the dragons could finish their sweep. Finally the last of the threadfall reached the coast and K'tol was about ready to go after B'tan and see how he was doing and work on getting both rider and dragon back to Ista when he felt the wave pass through Nimarath as it passed through all the dragons.

B'tan was dead. K'tol briefly shut his eyes. The young man had shown great promise, had qualities of leadership that given time, would have made him a wingleader, perhaps even a weyrleader some day. Ithiel was large and powerful and a definite asset. That they lost B'tan nearly broke his heart. Knowing that Ithiel would be lost as well...

They went to B'tan's location, slipping between and circling overhead where Ithiel was on the beach by his rider. Another man was there, holding onto the dragon. Ithiel had not yet gone between? The bronze was badly scored, but K'tol suspected the dragon could get airborne if he had to, and yet he had not left B'tan. With the arrival of the other riders K'tol watched impassively, expecting to see Ithiel rise and trumpet his pain of loss before disappearing forever.

{{Ithiel will stay,}} Nimarath informed him and he could sense his own dragon's surprise. {{He has taken a new rider.}} Nimarath paused, sounding baffled. {{He has Impressed with the new one. D'ean.}}

{Dragons don't re-Impress!} K'tol said, shocked, as he directed Nimarath to land on the shore.

{{A human can Impress multiple fire lizards. Rarely, a rider can Impress a new dragonet if they survive the loss of their first dragon. Why do you think we can not Impress again if we choose to? We can. But the loss...it is so hard to bear.}} Nimarath keened again, echoing the sadness coming from Ithiel. {{B'tan begged him to stay, to take the one who tried to save B'tan.}} With a great final spread of his wings, Nimarath settled onto the beach.

Nimarath barely touching down, K'tol jumped to the sandy shore and ran up to the dead rider, the weeping Ithiel, and the man who leaned against the bronze, clutching at the dragon as if to keep him from flying away and between. K'tol's gaze dropped to B'tan. Blood darkened the sand. B'tan's injuries should not have killed him, but if he became unseated and fell and the cauterized scoring broke open...yes, B'tan had bled to death and no one could have saved him. Seeing the injuries to B'tan's neck, hand and leg, he could see where an inexperienced rider might lose his seat. Even an experienced rider might, given the other scoring he had suffered.

His gaze raked over the new rider. It seemed out of every clutch Tanith laid there was something different about at least one dragon. He had thought Ithiel's sole difference was a change from tradition in his name. All dragons' names ended in 'th.' Other riders still caught themselves calling the bronze Ithielth. But obviously Ithiel was more different than that. A dragon that chose to Impress a new rider. No stranger than a black dragon he supposed, but he would have to set the harpers to search the records. He was still trying to grasp the event. He couldn't imagine losing half of himself and trying to take someone new, a stranger even, to fill that gaping ragged hole.

"D'ean, I am K'tol, weryleader of Ista. Nimarath has told me that Ithiel has chosen you as his new rider. We need to get Ithiel home and the scoring tended. Once we get you there, at first opportunity we'll get you back to your hold to pick up whatever belongings you own."

Though he was completely out of his element, Dean stared right back at the guy giving him the once over. He gave the man a nod. "It's just 'Dean', sorry about... your friend." He wished he could have done something. Back home, he might have been able to.

{{Not your fault.}}

"How are we getting him out of here? His wing is..." Feeling just as helpless as when he'd watched B'tan's life slip away, Dean looked to the man for clues. "I don't think he can fly far... definitly not high."

K'tol gave the man who was likely the oldest newly impressed rider an understanding smile. "You are a dragonrider now. Unless Ithiel suddenly became a queen, you are now D'ean. It is tradition." Pausing, he added, "We all know the risks. Having a dragon as a companion is indescribable to those who do not, but in return for that precious link, your life is one of danger as you fight Thread to protect the people of this land. B'tan was a fine young man and he will be missed." K'tol looked up at Ithiel in amazement. "Never before has a dragon taken on a new rider, at least as far as I am aware. For those who knew B'tan, this will be hard for them, to see another upon Ithiel's back. Forgive any that may be indelicate or overly distraught at this."

K'tol studied Ithiel's wing. "Nimarath says Ithiel believes he can fly, and truly, he needs merely get aloft to find his way 'between' and home to Ista. It would probably be best if you rode with me and Nimarath so as not to put any added burden on Ithiel. I assume this will be your first time on dragonback and your first time between? It is frightfully cold and you will feel nothing surrounding you but darkness and have no breath to draw in. You are soaking wet." K'tol stripped off his jacket and handed it and his gloves to Dean. "I can do nothing about your pants but the coat and gloves should help keep the cold of between a bit at bay.

{On dragonback... is he fucking kidding me?}

{{What is 'fucking'? Is that the same as 'fecking'? Don't be annoyed, it is a reasonable question.}}

"You've shoes to wear, I trust? Get them on. The sooner we are aloft, the sooner your dragon can be treated for the threadscoring." Once Dean had turned to face him, he saw the young man too had been injured by thread but in a way he had never seen. He realized suddenly that some of the thread must have still been alive in the water when he swam out to try to rescue B'tan. A courageous man to so boldly face the danger of thread filled waters. "The sooner you can be treated as well."

"Yeah I got shoes but I don't fly. I'll meet you there... just, you know, gimme directions." It was ridiculous to feel a sense of worry and loss, thinking about Ithiel going without him, but Ithiel needed help.

K'tol didn't know whether to laugh or have sympathy for D'ean. A dragonrider apparently afraid of heights, or flying on dragonback. "D'ean, Ista is across the sea. Surely you know Ista is on an island?" Perhaps the man had suffered some memory loss? Gently, but firmly, K'tol said, "You will have to move past your fear of heights. You are a dragonrider now. A dragon cannot fight thread without his rider to feed him firestone. You have been chosen, whether you desired it or not. Flying, D'ean, is non-optional. But we will work with you to help you get over your fear. Nimarath can stay close to the ground. As I said, truly dragons only need to be aloft."

"I'm not afraid, I just don't fly." He started backing away, but felt Ithiel sending him soothing thoughts. He glanced at the dragon, knowing it was injured, in mourning for its rider, and now was trying to help him. Feeling like a selfish ass, he quickly put his boots on, gathered the few things that he had managed to bring across with him, and came back.

"Go ahead, I'll ah... get on behind you." Really, he wanted to see how to mount the damned thing.

{{What is 'damned'?}}

{It's nothing. Is this dragon of his... tame?}

Ithiel snorted and passed the question on to Nimarath.

Nimarath twisted his head and stared briefly at D'ean and then chortled. When he told K'tol of D'ean's question, K'tol shook his head in disbelief. "D'ean, I can only assume you are one of the holdless to not know of these things. Were you never taught the learning songs? Dragon and rider, they are...one. We've only one dragon who tends to be...less than companionable, and that is, unfortunately a reflection of his rider. An unworthy candidate and regretfully one I chose. You are bound to Ithiel. Would you ever expect him to not be 'tame'?"

"That's it... yeah, holdless," Dean grasped on the excuse, not quite clear what it meant but guessing it was something like an outcast or maybe some sort of hermit. He nodded, "well, until he talked in my head...heh." As Nimarath got too close, Dean put his hand out and started to pat its face until Ithiel told him he should scratch Nimarath's eyeridge. Scratch?

{{It is when you use your fingernails to--}}

Dean gave Ithiel a look.

"Ithiel, go," K'tol ordered. "I'll bring D'ean along. Tell Rezmuth to get D'rak, so he might help D'ean once D'ean is treated for the scoring." More gently he added, "W'tal and Toth will bring B'tan back to Ista."

Turning his attention back to D'ean who was gently scratching Nimarath's eyeridges he said, "Your first flight on dragonback, you should be in front of me. Use Nimarath's haunch, placing one foot there, and grab these straps to pull yourself up. I know the scoring is going to hurt as you pull up so as soon as your other foot is off the ground, I'll take hold of it and you can push off of me. Try to use your legs as much as you can or you may well break open the wounds."

Twisting his head K'tol watched as Ithiel took one final look at the body of his former rider, focused briefly on D'ean, then crouched and propelled himself in to the air with a choked bugle of pain. Ithiel was barely more than five dragon lengths into the air when he went between. Looking at the young man before him, he reassured, "Ithiel will be waiting for you."

Dean felt Ithiel's pain as sharply as if it were his own and the seeing the dragon... no his dragon vanish, Dean sucked in his breath. K'tol's reassurance only made him feel slightly better. Then he heard Ithiel's reassuring voice in his head, and nodded.

K'tol couldn't help but wonder about the new situation. D'ean didn't seem the...brightest. B'tan had been very intelligent. Why would Ithiel take a holdless, clueless man who might even be a bit...touched...as a new rider? He was still trying to accept the fact Ithiel had taken a new rider in the first place. Perhaps D'ean wasn't touched but was simply overwhelmed by it all. How long had the man been holdless? Was he holdless by choice? If his name had been Dean, a strange name to begin with, his name should be 'D'an', but that was not what Nimarath had told him. Ithiel apparently did like to buck tradition when it came to names.

{{Dean is not so strange a name,}} Nimarath pointed out as he swung his head away from Dean to ready himself for their mounting and flight. {{Sam's fire lizard's name is Deanie, after all.}}

K'tol gave a soft snort. {{And Sam, the first bless him, is a kind young man but odd as well.}}

{{Then they may well make a good match. You know Ithiel is as taken with Merith as Merith is with him. Ithiel is one of the larger bronzes and will be among the likely to fly Merith though Curanth will be difficult to best. The obsession of Curanth and S'rance over Merith and Sam will make Curanth the most likely to win.}}

{Yes, an encouraging thought for the future. A weyrman instead of weyrwoman, and a choice of the arrogant S'rance or someone a bit touched as the most likely next weyrleader when Tanith is too old to rise again.}

{{D'ean is not touched. He is merely new. As were you, once,}} Nimarath scolded him.

{But even as a candidate, I knew more about dragons than this one seems to!}

{{Perhaps with time his memories will settle and he will find he knows these things he does not yet recall. Let us be on our way. Ithiel needs his new rider at his side. Although he has taken D'ean, it does not mean he is not in great pain from the loss of B'tan. D'ean can ease that pain.}}

K'tol felt a pang of guilt. Of course he needed to get the two back together and quickly instead of letting his thoughts wander to the future. He knew that Merith would likely soon rise and all had been hoping any bronze flew Merith but Curanth. By the first egg, Curanth had tried to subjugate a queen! Merith had put that bronze in his place more than a few times, as Sam had done to S'rance. If Curanth flew Merith, he was not sure what the resulting dynamics would be. Strange dragons. Strange times.

"Come now," K'tol told Dean. "Put your things in the front pocket so as not to lose them when we go between. Get the gloves on and let's get you mounted. We need to get to Ista.

Sitting on the dragon's back, Dean had been sure there was a silent conversation going on between K'tol and his dragon and that it was about himself, but he had bigger problems. Flying. Goddamit... why him? He was trying not to hyperventilate, and not to show his inner turmoil as he dragged on the gloves. "What about... shouldn't we bury him?" he asked, looking behind him at the man who seemed used to ordering people around.

"Another dragon will carry B'tan home," K'tol assured him. "He'll be well taken care of. I hope he is the only one we've lost this day. Now, let's focus on you. Wrap the straps tightly in your hands and clench you knees tightly against Nimarath. You won't hurt him, so don't be afraid you might. Nimarath will begin to fly and then we will go between. In between you will feel nothing but cold. You will not feel Nimarath beneath you, the straps clenched in your hands or me behind you. You will not be able to breathe. The cold will be beyond what you think you can stand. All will be black. No sound, no sight, no feel, no smell. The first time can be quite unsettling. Once aloft, Nimarath will rise a handful of dragon lengths. I will tell you when to take a breath. We will go between and while it may feel like an eternity, it will be mere moments, and we will arrive at Ista and land."

K'tol wrapped an arm around Dean's waist. He normally wouldn't but already the man seemed on the edge of panic and he hoped the reassurance of K'tol's arm might help ease the fear. "Let's go Nimarath."

Nimarath's muscles tightened as he pulled his great wings back. The dragon leapt skyward and with great strong beats of his wings climbed into the air. When Nimarath had reached a height he was comfortable with, he told K'tol.

{{Ready.}}

"Deep breath, D'ean," K'tol urged.

Oh God... please don't let me hyperventilate, please don't... Dean's fingers bit into K'tols arms, with the straps trapped between them. Dragons don't crash. Dragons don't crash. Dragons don't crash.

As soon as the man had inhaled, Nimarath took them between. K'tol held tightly to the man, fully knowing D'ean would not be able to feel him, but making certain when they came from between he would keep the man steady in his seat. Half a breath later, Nimarath was circling down, landing as gently and carefully as possible near the wounded. K'tol released Dean's waist.

"Not so bad, was it?" K'tol said, the barest hint of amusement in his voice as he clapped Dean on the back. K'tol slid down the dragon's side and landed lightly on his feet. "You, now. I'll help keep you upright. Nimarath, crouch low so D'ean doesn't have as far to come."

His injuries burned, maybe he'd moved too abruptly in his panic when they were in flight, but Dean hardly cared. The ground, that was all he cared about. That... and not falling down on shaky legs, there were a lot of these... dragonriders around. "Give me a mo." he said through tight lips, dragging in a deep breath, then searching for Ithiel.

{{I'm right here.}} The bronze was patiently awaiting the healers who were dealing with the most wounded first.

Putting a hand on K'tol's shoulder, Dean eased down. The instant his feet touched the ground, he took a deep breath. "You were right. That's not so bad. If you have a death wish." Grimacing, he nodded toward Ithiel, then started to walk toward him. {Is it me? They're all looking at me like I have two heads.}

{{No they're looking at me, because I have you now.}}

"Ah." He reached the dragon, but had no clue what to do. He looked back toward K'tol, making a face as he raised his arms slightly and dropped them against his thighs. "A little help?"

K'tol gave a small sigh. He had duties to attend to, but he couldn't leave Ithiel to deal with his new and confused chosen. Ithiel was trying to deal with enough. They had run their shift at least and now Fort Weyr was handling the thread to the north. They would rise when the Thread came to Ista in an hour or so, but only need worry about their own hold at that time and those from High Reaches Weyr would come to assist. The time table wasn't the easiest to manage to ensure all got rested and all holds were covered as no one weyr now had sufficient dragons to protect their own holds. Once the thread fell over Ista they would have nearly a day before the next threadfall came back to Ista, and they did not have to aid another weyr tomorrow, so the dragons would only need to scorch thread above their own hold.

He strode to the young man's side and led him over to the supplies. "The healers will get to Ithiel as soon as they can. You can aid him now by first getting tended by one of the apprentices since your wounds are not grievous." K'tol pointed over to an area where several young men and women aided the walking wounded. "Once tended, you will return to Ithiel and take a pouch of saltwater and a rag and gently wipe over the scoring Ithiel suffered. After you clean an area use a jar of numbweed and carefully slather it down the scoring until you reach the next part. Leave Ithiel's wing to the healers. After you have done what you can, stay with him. Once he is tended go to your weyr. Weyrlingmaster D'rak will help orient you. In an hour, the thread will reach us and those that can fly will. You and Ithiel will stay safely in your weyr." K'tol took back the coat Dean peeled off. "It will be several sevenday before Ithiel will be able to fight thread again. In that time you will need to train so when Ithiel is ready, you are as well. D'rak will help you with all of this."

K'tol found a medium sized pouch among the supplies, emptying it of the jars it held and gave it to D'ean, then handed the man his possessions. Such a collection of oddities. Shaking his head, he took back his gloves with a nod.

What the fuck was a weyr? Dean barely bit back the question, more than aware that this guy thought he was a bit nuts. Plus he seemed to think that Dean was going to stay and fall in with their ways. He just needed to find Sam and get the hell... Before he even finished the thought, a sense of loss invaded his soul and he was looking over at Ithiel. If the dragon lost him too... then he'd go to that empty cold place, 'between.'

"Even being holdless, I assume you are aware Ista is home to Merith, the first queen born in the past several turns that has survived? You may see her soon, she and her rider Sam fly to protect Ista. This is true of all queens, they fly to protect only their hold, though we weyrleaders would prefer they not fly at all," he said with something akin to exasperation. "Sam aids in training of the werylings, teaching them the necessary things of how to guide dragons between, how to ride, how to fight thread. He is surprisingly good with a sword and if you need training in swordsmanship, you need merely ask him. He often helps tutor the weyrlings in history as well." K'tol gave him a bit of a hard look. "One thing that you apparently need training in. Even though Merith chose a male rider, he is a queen's rider and outranks all but myself and Leyla, the werywoman." His look grew even sterner. Unsure what the man knew of dragons and the ways of dragonriders, he needed to be certain there would be no problems with him regarding Sam. "Do not give Sam grief that he rides a queen. We do not tolerate it."

Dean tried not to get excited hearing the name 'Sam.' It was a common enough name, there could be thousands of Sams on this planet, millions. Yeah, on a planet with weird names like K'tol and Nimarath... sure. It had to be Sam, his Sam. Dean almost looked proud when the guy talked about Sam's abilities with the sword, but when he went on, Dean doubled over. "Rides a queen. You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me, wait till Bobby... that's like a tranny... never mind." He straightened up and cleared his throat, seeing the glare the dragonrider was giving him. "Right, no making fun of Sam. Check. I'm going over to the healers to find some weeds to numb Ithiel."

K'tol sighed softly. The man was downright strange. He hoped the man became half the dragonrider B'tan was. If so, then he could be as strange as he wanted to be. He also hoped D'ean did not laugh at Sam when they met. Losing B'tan would wound Sam in more than one way and to have B'tan's replacement make jest at Sam's expense...he told Nimarath to have Ithiel counsel D'ean about it if necessary.

As Dean walked away from the weryleader, Dean's mind was a whirl of thoughts. Sam was here. He was gonna see him soon. Yeah there would be complications, as in the loss of memory but he was sure he could jog his brother's memory. They'd figure this out, they would. He was whistling when he reached the healers or apprentices or whatever.

They were really young, too young to be docs. He looked at them with a bit of suspicion, but they introduced themselves and started cleaning his wound. "Sonova..." Feeling two pairs of startled eyes on him, he smiled. "Nothing."

As they worked on him, they questioned him on where he was from, what happened to B'tan, how had he impressed Ithiel. He answered the parts he could, and said 'God knows' to the parts he couldn't, which had them staring at him again and then asking what 'God' was. Clearing his throat, he thanked them and asked for weed for his dragon. They laughed and then gave him everything he needed, which didn't include actual weeds.

Soon he was back with Ithiel with a couple other dragonriders giving him tips on cleaning the dragon's wounds. {You're badly hurt.}

{{I will... Live.}}Ithiel answered.

Dean hung his head, and scratched Ithiel's eye ridge. He should consider it yuck, but he didn't. This was a beautiful beast.

{{Who are you calling a beast?}}

{It's a compliment. I could call you 'girl' like my other beast, my Impala.}

{{Beast is fine.}}

{I thought so.}

The head healer finally made it to Ithiel and Dean. After introducing herself as Jontae, she climbed up on Ithiel's back and spent time carefully cleaning the scoring where his wing and shoulder met. After meticulously examining his wing, she tended to the scoring she found there then finished cleaning those places Dean had not yet gotten to. As she was finishing, an older man approached.

The man gave a nod to Ithiel. "Ithiel, I am sorrowed by your loss and I hear you have done what none has done before." The older man looked at Dean. "Taken a new rider. I am Weyrlingmaster D'rak. I oversee candidates, those who may impress newly hatched dragons. I likewise oversee their training after impression. As I understand it, you are quite unfamiliar with the ways of dragons and their riders. This, in essence, makes you a weyrling. The newest dragonets are about half a turn in age. You will train with the weyrlings and there are nearly mature dragons upon which you can learn to ride."

D'rak glanced skyward. "Threadfall is nearing. I will take you to your weyr. Headwoman Danai has already tended to removing most of B'tan's belongings. She or one of her people will be by to help you get what you need. After threadfall has passed, we will send someone to retrieve your belongings for you. Ithiel will meet us at the weyr."

D'rak turned and began heading for an entrance across the clearing. The wounded were already inside or headed that way and dragons and riders were preparing themselves for the approaching threadfall.

Only about half of that made sense, but Dean was okay with that. One step closer to Sam, that was the most important thing now. That and his need to make sure Ithiel would be okay. He looked over at the dragon, thanked the healer and started to follow this werylingmaster. He wanted to know more about these threads, but knew that he'd stick out even more if he asked a basic question like that. "So this... this Sam, he ah... what does he do when threads are falling?"
"Merith is like any queen and cannot breathe fire. Sam rides with a flamethrower and burns the thread that manages to slip by the riders. He and Weyrwoman Leyla work quite well together. To have a young queen with an energetic rider is a pleasure to watch work. The ground crews have much fewer burrows to go after since Sam and Merith have taken to the skies. Many would prefer they stay out of harm's way for Merith is the hope of Pern. The older queens lay few eggs and many of those dragonets are sick. Tanith's eggs always hatch, though she lays few, and each clutch seems to produce some dragons that are different. Your Ithiel for example, choosing to Impress with another rider. A black gold queen who chose a male rider. We all hope that Merith is not barren, that she will rise soon and that she will produce more than a mere handful of eggs for her clutch. If she does not," D'rak shook his head, "then I fear it is only a matter of time before dragons are extinct and humans will be soon to follow."

He lead the new rider inside and after a handful of turns in the tunnels, headed up steps. He finally led Dean into a spacious cavern. Ithiel was already on the large ledge at the outside entrance of the cavern, the one that could only be reached on dragonsback. The way Ithiel laid his head, the way he was half curled up, D'rak knew how sad the dragon was.

"Stay with Ithiel. We've had riders survive the death of their dragons but we have never had a dragon choose to survive the death of his rider. You will have to guide us and tell us what Ithiel might need and you will need to make sure he eats while in mourning. I will help teach you about the caring of a dragon, but you must tell me if we are not meeting the needs of Ithiel."

Looking over at the large beast, Dean nodded. "This wasn't really what I want..." he couldn't finish the statement, it sounded so fucking selfish. Yeah he was selfish, but somehow having that dragon changed things. He couldn't even bring himself to wish it hadn't happened, even if that would have been for the best. And the fact that Sam apparently had a dragon too, one important to this world... could he have walked into a complicated situation?

Dean let out a deep breath and walked to the protected ledge, reaching out to pet the dragon, only to be told by Ithiel that he preferred to be scratched. "I'll watch him," he agreed, looking over his shoulder. "You think this Sam... he can drop by, just for a minute?"

{{You don't just summon a queen's rider.}}

{Shshsh, you try to rest.}

D'rak's brow lifted in surprise. "Have you not heard me, boy? Thread approaches. He is preparing to fly. He spends a good deal of time with the weyrlings. You will meet the man soon enough." He paused for a moment and stared at Dean. "We are all aware Merith is fond of Ithiel. I know he has encouraged B'tan to some degree, considering S'rance is determined Curanth will fly Merith. You being Ithiel's new rider...I imagine he will come meet you. He suffered at S'rance's hand when he was a drudge under the Holder Son's rule. He will not want Curanth to win Merith." D'rak looked sadly at Ithiel. "Merith rises soon. Ithiel will not be able to fly her this time. Perhaps one of the other bronzes will win her. I hope so for Sam's sake. I will let him know at first opportunity that Ithiel's new rider wishes to meet him."

Sam suffered... it better fucking not be his Sam, for this S'rance's sake, it just better not fucking be. He practically roiled with anger, though he didn't know what the rest had to do with it. So what if Merith liked to fly with Curanth or Ithiel, what did he mean win her? "You mean mate with her, Sam's dragon?"

The look he got from D'rak told Dean he should know the answer to that, or he'd used the wrong terminology or something. "Look... you know W'tal said something about getting my stuff, well I don't have any. I think I was robbed, I ah... hit my head, or they hit me, I don't know. I just don't remember a lot, but some of it is coming back." He could see the guy was in a hurry to leave. "I might know this Sam... I..." Seeing no sympathy in the guy's eyes, he just nodded, "I'll wait here."
D'rak had been told D'ean had little to no knowledge or the ways of dragonriders. It was best he clarified things for D'ean immediately, though he needed to be on his way. "You have felt Ithiel's physical pain. You have felt his emotions as well. What do you think happens when dragons mate?"

With that, D'rak turned and hurried down the stairs. Thread was already falling on the outer reaches of Ista.

Sam was tired. He had been helping keep the firestone bags loaded while the dragons of Ista had the dragon aid shift, and then reloading for the upcoming thread fall, then he'd flown the fall. The flamethrower was fecking heavy. He'd also heard about B'tan, and it hurt. He had been developing a relationship with B'tan. With Merith so strongly attracted to Ithiel, he couldn't help but find himself reacting to B'tan. Both men were a little...confused by it as neither had ever been particularly attracted to the same gender, but the emotions of the dragons were so strong, they had come to accept it. They hadn't done much more than kiss a few times and B'tan knew what S'rance had done to Sam, knew that Sam was uncomfortable with the thought of making love to a man, but he had promised Sam it would be good between them and they would learn together. Sam was certain that Merith would do everything she could to avoid Curanth, but he also knew when queens went into heat, ultimately the strongest bronze won in most cases as the queen's sensibilities were lost. Leyla had counciled him on how to handle Merith and gave him some suggestions that might give Ithiel that edge if he needed it to catch Merith.

But now B'tan was gone. How Ithiel had not gone between was the talk of the weyr and he was as shocked as everyone else. He hadn't heard much about the new rider, though he was certain rumors about him would be rampant in no time. He didn't want any rumors to influence him so he needed to meet the new rider as soon as possible. He hoped the man was nothing like S'rance. With his luck though? The man would probably be worse. Probably ugly as a half starved runner, with bad teeth, and lustful looks and grabby hands that held no gentleness.

{{You are such the pessimist,}} Merith yawned. {{Go and meet the man first! I wish to visit Ithiel as well. He is so torn between loss and the joy of impression, and the pain of the scoring. He suffers guilt that he let his rider fall, that he did not see the thread. He needs comfort.}}

{He won't be able to fly you, not this time,} Sam said.

{{Of course not. Maybe I will let none of them catch me!}}

Sam laughed at her attempt to cheer him. He took the tunnels he had grown so familiar with, the ones that led to B'tan and Ithiel. He reached the stairs and hesitated, then ascended them quickly. Best he get there and get this over with. It would be so strange that it was not B'tan he would find inside.

"Hello?" Sam called. He realized he didn't know the man's name. "Dragonrider? May I enter?"

Dean had left the door open, and he gave a resigned, "yeah, sure." A long line of people had walked in already, to tell him what to do, to see how his dragon was, to meet him. He wasn't all that used to people looking at him like he was 'slow.' It was starting to get wearing and he'd been very close to tossing the last couple of people out on their asses. Now he was on the couch trying to figure out what the fuck these scrolls he'd been given said.

He wiped a frustrated hand over his face and started to wearily look up.
Sam walked inside. The furniture hadn't changed, but then the man hadn't been there long enough to chose his own. His eyebrow arched when he saw the man. B'tan was handsome, but shards, this guy was fecking gorgeous. He was studying some scrolls and there was definitely a look of frustration on the man's face and he looked tired.

"Uh, hello. I'm Sam, Merith's rider."

"Sam!" Dean immediately sprang up, crossed the room and opened his arms wide, dragging his brother up against him in a hug. "It's you." He slapped his back, and held him just a moment longer, very aware Sam was holding himself stiff, but he didn't care. "Sammy..." His voice was thick with emotion, but he forced himself to pull back.

His gaze swept over his brother's face and body. He looked the same, but he was slightly thinner. His leather outfit ... same as what a lot of the dragonriders wore, seem to be tailored for him. His arms were bare, and Dean frowned at the jagged scar on his upper arm.

Sam was startled by the greeting. He still tended to keep himself distanced from people and few acted quite so familiar with him. Ithiel must have told the rider a lot about Sam. Well, at least it seemed as if the man would have no problem with the idea of being his lover if he was this enthusiastic already.

"I prefer Sam," he told the man. "I'm afraid I don't know your name. I take it Ithiel has told you about me, about B'tan?"

"Huh?" Dean shook his head. "Not much. I don't want him to have to talk about B'tan more than he has to." he shrugged. "It's Dean. Dean Winchester."

{{It's D'ean}}

{I know my name!} Dean mentally told his dragon.

{{Then you're saying it wrong.}}

Ignoring his dragon, Dean searched for a hint of recognition in Sam's eyes. There was nothing. And of course he thought he'd been prepared for it, but when he was bursting with excitement at having found him, the cool look, just the way Sam would look at a stranger, any stranger... it kinda hurt. "Do you want to... sit?" He asked, taking a step back and dropping down onto the small couch.

Baffled by the man's response, Sam stared at him. Ithiel hadn't told him anything? Deanwinchester. What a mouthful. No wonder he went by just D'ean. He must not yet be used to his new name. He did have to stifle a smile. The man was probably going to take some ribbing that Sam's fire lizard and he shared the same name. The man also seemed taken aback by Sam's response. If Ithiel hadn't told him anything then why would he be so ...excited? "Uh, sure," Sam said.

Settling down onto the couch, Sam ran his hand absently over the fabric. He swore he could still smell B'tan. Well, he suspected he wasn't going to need to do much convincing, but he wanted to make sure the rider knew he still approved of Ithiel as Merith's potential mate. He reached out and laid his hand gently on the man's knee, then began running his hand a little way up the man's thigh.

"Ithiel and Merith, they, well, you probably know they're attracted to each other. I know rumor says Ithiel will not be up to flying her when she rises soon, but the time after, I would truly like it if Ithiel was motivated to catch her." Sam bowed his head a little and looked at D'ean suggestively. His eyes lingered on the man's lips before drifting down D'ean's chest to his groin and back up to meet the man's gaze. "Very motivated to catch her."

Okay, first of all, Dean thought he'd imagined Sam's hand on his thigh. Not his hand, but the movement of his hand, a little too much like a caress. He'd ignored it, but he couldn't ignore the way Sam just focused on his mouth and his... nah. Still, just in case, he grasped Sam's wrist. Clearing his throat, he gently put Sam's hand on Sam's own thigh.

When D'anwinchester ({{D'ean}} Merith corrected) grabbed his wrist, Sam stiffened and it took a lot of willpower not to rip his hand free, but all D'ean did was move Sam's hand from his thigh. But he had been so enthusiastic! Sam knew it wasn't just Ithiel's emotions coming through. D'ean was genuinely glad to see him. There had been strong emotion in his eyes and in his voice. So why the mixed signals?

{I think there's something wrong with Sam.} Worried, Dean couldn't help letting his dragon in on his fears.

{{The rest of the weyr thinks there's something wrong with you. Everyone is wrong.}}

{But...} Dean noticed that his dragon was no longer listening to him, but was clearly somewhere else.

{{She's coming. Merith.}}

"Merith... your dragon, and... ah Ithiel. I think he's motivated... you know, from his thoughts." Dean nodded. "So... you're okay?"
Sam felt the burst of attraction as Merith settled on Ithiel's ledge and moved next to him. She bumped her head against Ithiel's and thrummed soothingly as she nestled up next to him. Sam could have heard their conversation if he chose to. He could hear any dragon if he focused on trying to. He had discovered this quite by accident but was glad it required a conscious effort on his part. The green dragons really didn't think about much beyond sex, food, and fighting thread.

The overwhelming love and attraction Merith had for Ithiel filled him and he looked at Ithiel's impressed with longing. He had learned to manage these feelings that weren't his, but he remembered how sweet and gentle B'tan's kisses were. The human touch...he didn't get much of that and he had, more than anything, just liked to sit with B'tan. They often held hands because neither were sure how far they wanted to go until Ithiel had actually won Merith. They had already discussed that if Ithiel did fly Merith they would live together. Otherwise they knew they would never get any peace from the feelings their dragons had for each other.

In light of Ithiel's injury, it was fortunate that Sam did not have to live with the rider whose dragon flew Merith even though it tended to be tradition. There was rumor it was more than just tradition if the queen's rider was without a lover but Sam had not been able to find any proof of that. He had sent Deanie out with requests to harpers and historians outside of the weyr to confirm or disprove this rumor.

Sam couldn't help himself. He laced his fingers with that of D'ean's. He wanted to kiss him. Okay Merith's intense feelings for Ithiel made him want to kiss D'ean. Very badly.

"Am I okay?" Sam asked, trying to focus on D'ean's words. "I will miss B'tan. He was very kind and even a little shy for a bronze rider, at least with me. He was smart and funny when he wanted to be. I would have been content with him as a partner. I...I will have to get to know you."

Dean's gaze dropped to his hand. His heart lurched at the 'weirdness' of this, but he wasn't completely unaware of certain unwanted feelings washing over him. {Cut it out, Ithiel.}

(A/N: Did you notice the new art? Spectacular huh? And we have more, we'll be sporting different banners as we go... *Hugs* LJ artists)

Purified By Innocence, 4/? [NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-11-28T20:45:42Z

Many thanks to naisica who not only allowed us to use her lovely manip but added text for us.

Fandom: SPN - AU - Sam/Dean are not brothers
Title: Purified By Innocence
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) and Fetish sam_dean_fetish
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; Slash; One attempted rape scene (not BY the boys)
Characters: The characters are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.

Summary: Lord Dean Winchester belongs to the secret arm of the Knights Templer, fighting supernatural horrors and demons that plague the land. Knights like Dean must be paired with an innocent who can neutralize the dark taint that builds up inside them due to their close contact with evil. Dean has selected the boy, Sam, as his innocent, and goes to claim him from the monks who have groomed and sheltered him for that purpose.
Author's Note: We have not tried to make the language sound overly medieval. Think of the Herculese t.v. show, you have the ancient Greece setting but more modern lingo is used. However, we did not go for slapstick or anything.

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

The gates were opened before they arrived so their horses never broke their galloping pace, Dean reined his horse in, holding Sam tight as it reared slightly. They drew up to the main entrance of the keep, and dismounted. Servants swarmed them, taking their horses and relieving them of their loads. The lesser knights headed off to find their own quarters, while Charles, Peter, Dean and Sam walked up the stairs and entered into the large parlor.

A broad shouldered man walked out with two women, one older and quite curvaceous, and the other young and bright eyed. Even before introductions began, the young woman threw her arms around Dean. "My Lord, it is so nice to see you again."

Sam looked over at the woman who had thrown herself at his master and frowned. One of those wenches Peter spoke of no doubt. Dragging his gaze away, Sam hung his head, looking at his shoes.

"You too Kate," he grinned, and once she released him, he put his hand behind Sam and gave him a slight push. "This is Sam."

As soon as Dean's hand was at his back, Sam picked his head up, looking over at him, then at the bright eyed woman who was all smiles. She reminded him of Christiana when she had done something particularly naughty.

While Kate was busy throwing her arms around Sam in turn, the others greeted each other.

Her arms were around him? Sam's eyes widened, "Aaak!" He nearly shoved her away, looking at her as though she were crazy. Looking over at Dean, Sam shook his head, "I didn't do anything! She touched me!" he started to defend himself.

"Sam... it's alright." Putting his arm around his innocent, he nodded toward Kate. "This is Sir Harry's innocent, Kate. Sir Harry... and his wife, Lady Elizabeth."

Sam looked from Dean to the woman before him, she was... like him? But... Sam looked at Sir Harry, then to his wife, then back to Kate. He's married. He doesn't... Kate isn't his love? He just.... 'I paid for your keep, I waited until you turned eighteen, yes... that was as it should be. You belong to me, know this.' Sam hung his head, any bit of happiness he had felt, and relief found in Peter's earlier words, gone. Property, bought and paid for. The light to his dark. That was all, nothing more.

The two women gave curtsies and Sir Harry nodded, looking him over. "You are at peace, at last?" he asked Dean, but it was more a statement.

Sam didn't look up, didn't even look to Dean to see what he said, his thoughts were as much in knots as his stomach and his chest was aching.

Dean didn't answer, but accepted Kate's offer to show them to their room and have baths drawn for them to wash the travel dust off. Arm still firmly around Sam, he started to follow, giving Sam a glance, shaking his head, then letting him go first up the narrow stone stair case behind Kate. "So, is there any excitement of which I should be aware?"

"Elizabeth is with child."

"Is she, good." They stepped into a hallway and she opened the door to a large room. "Do you want me to wash you?" She asked.

"No, just the water."

"Him?"

Dean shook his head again.

"Sam, I will try to be seated next to you at dinner. I'm very happy to meet you. Maybe we can visit... you'll only be a half day's ride from here."

Sam glanced up at her from under his brows and his long bangs and gave a small smile, nodding. "That would be nice, I had a friend at the monastery," Sam's smile widened a bit, "you remind me of her." He glanced at Dean, worrying his lip, not sure if he was allowed to be that friendly with someone else.

When she walked out and closed the door, Sam remained standing in the same place, simply looking down at his shoes and worrying his lip, his hands clasped behind his back.

Dean closed his arms around Sam, and dragged him up against his frame, but not ungently. "I'm coming to know that look. How have I wronged you now, hmm?" Why weren't things as simple as they could... should be? He just wanted to kiss Sam, maybe enjoy a bit of play as they bathed, sup with his friends, and then it would be time for some bedsport. Somehow, he knew his plans would go awry.

Sam shook his head, "You - you didn't, I just," he sighed, "I guess I had a different view of the world," he huffed. "I guess that's why Christiana always called me a dreamer," he forced a smile and looked into Dean's face.

He nodded and put one hand on the side of Sam's face. "It's complicated, but you'll learn. There's good and bad. For one thing... I don't mind if other people touch you, alright? Within reason," he added, a hint of steel in his voice. "There's nothing wrong with showing affection for friends, receiving or giving hugs. Just don't go batting those eyelashes at anyone but me, though." His gaze dropped to Sam's lips, then lifted heavily back up.

Sam nodded, then frowned slightly, "I - you don't mind if I touch someone else?" he tilted his head slightly, "Then why...?" Sam sighed, something else he didn't understand about the monks he had called family. He noticed Dean's gaze go to his lips before raising back to his own. Self consciously, he licked his lips. "Y - you're going to give me a lip complex," he tried to joke, but knew it likely fell flat.

"Am I? Maybe I just want to check your teeth... hmm?" Closing the gap between them, Dean covered Sam's mouth with his, he swept his tongue past his innocent's teeth and started a long, slow exploration of the silky hot cavern. He'd craved Sam's touch all day long, refrained from teasing him or touching him because he'd been worried about his ability to control himself. That and the fact his prickly innocent had been on the outs with him. Pulling back, he gave his verdict. "They're perfect. No gaps. Would you like to check mine?" This time his hands slipped down to Sam's ass, and pulled him up harder against his frame.

Sam's lashes fluttered before his eyes opened, though his lids were feeling slightly heavy as he stood gazing at his knight. No gaps...? Sam would have huffed had he not felt like he was nearly drugged, or was it sleepy? After all, he had perfect teeth, everyone said so. Instead, he smiled a slightly lop-sided grin at his knight, then his eyes widened as he was brought up hard against Dean, though he didn't protest.

A devious smile pulled at Sam's lips as he looked at his knight, "Oh, I dunno," he tilted his head to the side, "they looked okay to me before, I'd say they're alright." Sam pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

Dean gave a low, playful growl. "You don't know that, maybe you should check. I might have knocked one or three out, you know, when I was battling that fearsome cricket." Leaning in, he spoke against Sam's lips, "You batted your lashes at me, means you want to kiss me. You do, don't you?"

Sam snickered, "Cricket...." he raised a hand to cover his mouth to hide his laughter, then pulled it down. "At least it wasn't a grasshopper, my lord, those things spit, then you would have been doomed!" Sam laughed, actually threw his head back and laughed at that for a good while before what Dean said registered. "I batted my...?" Sam frowned, "I have never batted my lashes at anyone."

"You just did it again," Dean countered. "Right there... you're batting. Kiss me Sam, like early this morning. Kiss me, please."

Sam shook his head, "I am not -" his sentence died away as he looked at Dean. Slowly he reached up, placing his hands on Dean's shoulders, his eyes following the movement as he bit his lip, then his gaze slid to Dean's as if to check that he was doing alright. Sam licked his lips and leaned in, slanting his mouth and parting his lips, his eyes fluttering closed.

At first Sam just pressed his lips to Dean's and held there, before he remembered that before he had sucked Dean's tongue, had rolled his tongue with Dean's. Tentatively, Sam let his tongue push past his master's teeth and into his mouth, sliding it along side Dean's, then pulling back slightly as he ran his tongue over the backs of Dean's teeth, the roof of his mouth, dodging Dean's tongue more than anything, but he thought he was getting something right by the sounds that broke from his master's throat.

Molding him closer, Dean groaned. So soft, so sweet... he had to keep his control, allow his innocent to go slow, he had to fight the urge to deepen the kiss. "Good, that's good Sam," he muttered, tangling his tongue with Sam's, drawing out the kisses, moving his mouth back and forth. His hand slipped to Sam's belt, he started to undo it, mouth never unlatching from Sam's.

Sam swept his tongue along side Dean's, tangling them together and pulling back until he had enough of Dean's tongue in his mouth that he started to suck on it the way he had done that morning in the bed, his hands fisting in the material of Dean's tunic. Feeling Dean's hand at his belt, Sam shifted his weight, a small whimper sounding deep in his throat, a gesture of uncertainty, but he knew what his role was, his job, he couldn't ask his master to wait forever, so Sam held still and tried to focus on the kiss, on his master's mouth, his tongue, the sounds of pleasure that broke from his throat.

His breaths coming harsher, Dean moved his mouth across Sam's jaw, then pressed kisses along the tender flesh of his throat. The belt slipped from his fingers to the floor, and he found the bottom of Sam's tunic. Stepping back, he pulled the material up, peeling it off Sam. Seeing him in just the silk under tunic, which had a gaping neckline, all Dean could think about was pushing him on the bed and taking him. He licked his lips, battling his desires. It helped that his innocent had a nervous look in his eyes. "We're just going to bathe. A little kissing, a little touching and a bath... I promise you that," he said, knowing his innocent had no idea the toll that waiting took on him.

Sam swallowed hard and nodded, jaw clenched. Sam's lips parted as he released the breath he had been unconsciously holding, licked his lips and looked nervously around the room. "Where - where's the tub?"

"Adjoining room." Dean started to walk him backward toward the door, this time his hands working the ties on Sam's breeches.

Sam glanced back over his shoulder behind him, then looked back at Dean he walked backward. "Oh," he gave a small nod, "yeah, right." he had to get used to the idea that not every one bathed in small tubs in their rooms behind closed doors so no one could see them. That thought had Sam closing his eyes for a moment as he battled his embarrassment. Yeah, so no one could supposedly see them.

Feeling the breeches he wore get looser, Sam's eyes snapped open as he looked down at his pants, at Dean's hands unfastening them, then up at Dean's face as a hand automatically raised to his waistband to hold the pants in place. "So who," Sam swallowed, "who's going first?"

"Shshsh, don't worry so much. Trust me." That was when Dean started praying, praying that he wouldn't break any trust that Sam placed in him. "You don't need this," he said, prying the material out of Sam's fingers. They were through the door, and next to a large tub with steaming water set in the middle of the small antechamber.

Sam continued to worry his lip, but nodded at Dean's request to trust him. Yeah, he could do that, he hadn't done anything horrible to him, well, when he had started to, he had stopped and that had to mean something. When the material of his breeches was tugged out of his grip, Sam looked down at them, then up at Dean, taking in a deep shuddering breath.

Seeing the the large tub, visions of the other innocents being taken to the bathing rooms in the monastery flashed before Sam's eyes, the sounds of them crying, of the other boys begging the knights not to do it, filled his ears. Sam wasn't even sure what it was, but from the sound of it, he was going to hate it. But, his master had promised that they were only going to bathe..... and kiss.... touch.... Sam blew out a breath as he watched Dean pull his breeches down, wanting to instinctively to cover himself, but knowing that he shouldn't. Sam did the only thing he could do, and looked away.

Feeling Dean touch his leg, Sam dared a glace down at him, then moved to step out of his breeches, standing a couple steps away from Dean now, head hanging, hands clenched into fists at his sides, Sam waited for whatever came next as he worried his lip.

"You're this shy?" Letting out a hot breath, Dean moved under the white tunic again, this time undoing the stays of Sam's brais and inching them down his body, his fingers brushing the smooth skin of his hips and thighs. "Promise to lay on me, and kiss me in the tub, and I will let you keep the tunic on," he said thickly. In all honesty, the tunic was for his own benefit, to help him find some control.

Sam raised his head and looked at Dean, lip caught between straight white teeth. Yeah, he could do that, they had done that in the bed and it had be alright... nice even. Sam nodded, "I will."

"Alright." Dean shoved the undergarment down and helped Sam step out of it. "You may get in the water." Nodding toward it, he started to strip his own clothes off. There were many who might say that he should have let his innocent undress him, should have bathed first and then allowed his innocent to use the same water, but he'd never held to convention.

Sam opened his mouth to ask if he was supposed to undress Dean now, but his master's next words clarified that for him. With a sigh of near relief, Sam nodded and turned toward the bath. Walking over to the tub, Sam climbed the two little steps and slowly started to get in, sighing as the warm water covered his body. He leaned back against the wall of the tub, closing his eyes a moment before a mischievous smirk pulled at his lips and he dunked down under the water, only to come up a few seconds later, wiping water and hair from his eyes with his hands, then bending backward to dip his head into the water once more.

Even partially clothed, his innocent was going to be his undoing. Dean's gaze was transfixed on him, the combination of memories of the boy naked and swimming in that larger bathing pool combining with the current vision of Sam with his thin white thigh length under tunic sticking to his body and hiding nothing, sending a surge of blood straight to Dean's cock. His breeches fell to the floor, and he tossed his remaining clothes aside. Walking outside the tub behind Samuel, he put his hands on the boy's shoulders, drawing him back to the edge of the tub so his head hung outside the rim and against Dean's bare stomach. Hot water spilled down his Lordship's body, as he stared down at Sam, naked desire in his face.

When Dean's hands went to Sam's shoulders, Sam opened his eyes, his smile slowly fading away at the look on his knight's face. He had begun to understand that look, to know what it meant, and although it wasn't horrible to know that his knight needed him, it was no less unnerving and scary for someone who had no clue about such things other than the horrific sounds that had echoed through monastery walls.

Leaning down, Dean slanted his mouth over his innocent's wet hot lips, upside down, sucking his lips into his mouth before pushing his tongue inside. Fuck... if he was this affected when he was outside the tub, what was he to do when he was in it and had Sam sliding against him?

Sam gasped in a breath, opening his mouth up to his knight, his hand rising out of the water to grab backward onto Dean's shoulder as he kissed him, Sam doing his best to return in kind as they had practiced. When the knight broke the kiss, Sam licked his lips and stared up into Dean's brilliant green eyes. "I like the water - I," Sam cleared his throat, "I guess you know that." He gave a small forced smile that didn't reach his eyes before he bit his lip, still holding onto Dean's shoulder.

"I like you in water." Dean's smile was equally forced since he was fighting a host of desires. "I guess you know that."

Sam gave a small huff, somewhere between a laugh and an exhale of breath, but didn't say anything.

Bending, he kissed Sam one more time, then pulled up and started to walk around the tub to get inside. As he climbed the small set of steps, his innocent could not miss his state of arousal. "Don't be afraid, but don't fight me," he reminded him, slowly entering the tub.

Sam had decided that he actually liked kissing his knight, it was fun and it made his heart flutter, but not in a bad way. Dean also always seemed to taste good, it wasn't something he ate or drank, but his own unique flavor and Sam found that he liked it very much. Right now, he couldn't help the fact his gaze
was drawn to his knight's erection before he quickly looked away, his cheeks stained. At his master's words, Sam looked back at his face and gave a small nod, swallowing and licking his lips nervously. "Mm, o - okay."

Sam didn't move from the edge of the bath, one hand clinging to the side in a tight grip as he watched Dean enter the water. Once again, Sam's lip found it's way between his teeth as his heart thundered in his chest. He shifted his weight a few times, uncertain what to do, what he should do, what was expected of him to do.

As Dean came closer, Sam gave a small nervous smile, "I - I think along with all the other things they taught me, this would have been helpful," he choked out softly.

"No. This is for me and only me, to teach you," Dean countered, lowering down into the warm water, facing Sam. For a long moment, he watched him. His flushed face, lips reddened by his nervous habit, and the attempt to smile when Dean knew he probably wanted to bolt from the room. "Come closer, I don't bite, Samuel." Dean scooted forward, one foot flat on the bottom of the tub between Sam's legs, allowing him to get close as he reached out and rubbed his calloused hand up and down Sam's shoulder, using the other one to explore the angular planes of his face. "Unless you want me to bite," he gave a mischief filled smile. "Then you only have to ask."

Sam gave a small nervous laugh before his lip found home again between his teeth as he gazed at Dean's face. Slowly Sam raised a hand to Dean's shoulder, then slid the hand up to cup Dean's neck and finally his cheek, thumb running over his cheek bone. "You - you have a nice nose, small. Chris - Christiana said I had a nose like our basset hound, at - at the monastery, flat and wide, yours is nice and small." Sam's free hand rose to his own face, running over the tip of his nose.

"You like my nose... I see," he laughed in amusement. "Keep in mind, nothing else about me is small." He turned his head, so Sam cupped his face, then let him explore. Despite his apparent state of relaxation, Dean was anything but relaxed. "I don't think you look like a hound at all... this Christiana must be half blind. Angel... you have the face of an angel," he cleared his throat, his lips quirking up, "but I fear not the temperament of one."

Sam giggled slightly and shook his head, "An angel? Not if you spoke to the monks. I think they thought I was spawned from Lucifer himself." he chuckled, "though it was Christiana's fault, truely. I was led astray," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. "She was my downfall."

"I have a feeling you'll be my downfall," he said, tugging Sam a little closer. Leaning in, he kissed the shell of Sam's ear, tonguing it a few times. "Let me touch you... everywhere, I want to learn your body. I want to know what makes you ache between your legs, what makes you ache for me. I need to know what makes you call my name, let me." His hand slid down Sam's chest, fingers exploring the grooves of his well defined muscles, his thumb rubbing over his nipple... teasing.

Sam's hands went to Dean's shoulder's as he leaned in, eyes closing as Dean dipped his hot tongue in his ear, a small whimper leaving him at Dean's words as he bit his lip harder, nodding his head slightly, "O-okay," Sam agreed, though he tensed, unsure what to expect, but waiting for something horrible, something that would give him cause to shout like the calls for help he'd heard echoing through monastery walls. His breath left him in a rush at the feel of Dean touching his chest, his nipple. Sam felt it harden, felt heat pool in his groin. "D- Dean," his hands clasped Dean's shoulders tighter as Sam bit his lip, brows furrowed, eyes squeezed tightly closed.

"Yes? You like it." He knew Sam did, so he pressed on, touching him over the wet shirt, moving down to his belly, then under the material. This time he explored every inch of Sam's flesh more slowly, thoroughly, moving back to his nipple. His heart seemed to constrict at his innocent's responses, the intakes of his breath. Swooping down, Dean pulled the tunic to one side, and latched his mouth over one flat male nipple and sucked, then teased with his tongue. Perfect... so perfect for him. "How does it feel?" he asked, moving his leg, his shin pressing lightly against the flesh between Sam's legs.

Sam's breaths panted out, lips parted, eyes closed he was caught up in the feeling, the sensations that were running through his body, so much that he nearly didn't respond to his master's words. "Hmm?" Sam arched into Dean's touch, his cock swelling and pulsing between his legs. His hips moved toward Dean on their own, his body knowing what he needed more than he did. He moaned softly, grinding against Dean, "I feel....I -" Sam pressed his lips together, turning is head and burying it against Dean's neck. Warm breath against sensitive flesh.

"Oh God yes... lay on me," Dean demanded, straightening his legs and dragging his innocent over him, his aching cock now brushing against Sam's. Because Sam was floating above him, there was hardly any friction between their bodies. He slipped his hand down Sam's back, to his ass, pressing him down, molding him closer as he ground his hips up. Bringing his mouth to Sam's ear, he suggested, "put your knees down, then you can... you can touch me ... better." A hard lift of his hips, and he showed him how they could be touching.

A strangled cry left Sam lips before be moved his legs, placing his knees down as Dean had said and half sitting on him, "F-f-feeling funny again," Sam whisped out breathlessly as he arched against Dean, hands griping his shoulder hard, fingertips digging into the skin of Dean's shoulders. "Please," Sam begged softly, his hips arching against Dean as his head fell back lips parted, breaths panting out, eyes still closed.

"Help yourself Sam, fuck against me." His eyes were on Sam's face, watching his reaction to the vulgar word, drinking in the innocent hunger in his expression. "Just like you rutted in my mouth... move over me." And when his innocent did, a low groan left Dean's throat. He gripped Sam's hip, helping him grind down, biting his lip as his cock slid between Sam's ass cheeks... white hot heat lancing through him. Lifting his head, he licked Sam's lips, tracing their outline, urging him to let his tongue come out to play.

Sam's tongue darted out to lick his lips, tasting Dean there, a small sigh leaving him as he moved to place his lips over Dean's, breaths panting into Dean's mouth, as his hips ground down against him. "Are-are you sure this is okay?" Sam panted out breathlessly, his body straining against Dean's as he ground his pulsing cock against his master, feeling both light headed and an aching pleasure building within him at the same time. A small whimper broke from Sam's lips, air puffing out into Dean's mouth before Sam's tongue delved into his mouth, hands sliding toward Dean's back holding him tightly as Sam writhed against him.

Before he could answer, Dean found Sam's tongue inside his mouth. This time his Innocent's tongue-play was bolder, thrusting and parrying, dueling with his own. Yes. This is what he'd wanted, to awaken something within Sam, make him seek it out. Sweeping his hand down over Sam's ass under the tunic, he held him close... tight, making Sam work to create the friction between them. In the back of his mind, he knew his needs were growing stronger. That if he didn't keep control, his darker side would win its demands that he turn the boy over right here, right now... to take him against the side of the tub. Tortured thoughts drew a loud groan out of him.

Sam's back arched as he pressed his groin against Dean's body, fought against his masters firm hold to keep the rhythm of his rutting going, his ass into Dean's hand, his cock against Dean's body, low moans sounding deep in Sam's throat as his tongue fought and tangled with his knight's. Sam's fingertips dug into his Lord's back as he held onto him, clinging to him as his anchor as sensations tumbled and twisted their way through his body, making his breaths come faster, his heart beats harder. When their lips separated, Sam hung his head slightly, his forehead against Dean's shoulder, lips parted as he panted out his breaths, hips bucking against his master as he rolled his forehead, Sam's lips at Dean's throat, moving though no words were spoken, just gasps of hot breath against his lord's sensitive skin.

Seeing flashes of white each time their bodies pushed against each other, Dean gripped the edge of the tub and sat up, knees bent, his innocent trapped between his thighs and chest. "Ride me harder, faster," he demanded, his free hand cupping Sam's head, guiding him closer so their mouths collided. When he pushed his tongue inside Sam's mouth, there was no question as to who was in control of the kiss this time. It was fierce, and hard, and he might be ravaging his innocent's mouth, but he was channeling his needs so that he wouldn't take other things, things Sam was not ready to give yet. "Yes... that's it," he growled as his balls started to tighten, his fingers digging into Sam as he urged him on.

Sam struggled to do as Dean told him, even as he was held tightly in Dean's arms. It made the range of his movements difficult, but not impossible, it did however keep the ache lingering in his hard cock and it seemed to, if anything, just make him harder, the ache in his cock sharpening as he was forced to go slow, work for each grinding movement, each thrust against Dean's body. Sam moaned and whimpered into Dean's mouth, small groans of frustration and pleasure breaking from his throat as he tried to get to that place that he'd been to before, when the ache had left, when his world had narrowed to just the heat in his veins, pooling low in his belly.

Sam clutched at Dean, nearly trying to crawl inside him as he ground his hips against his master, finally tearing his lips from Dean's, his mouth burning, feeling swollen and raw. "Oh God... D - Dean..." Sam sucked in a breath between his teeth as he clenched them, his eyes opened as he tilted his head back, unseeingly looking at the ceiling, his hips moving erratically against Dean's body. "Need...." Sam shook his head before he lowered it looking at Dean, face wrecked, pained, pleasured, looking nearly ready to cry. "I don't know!" Sam told him, just before throwing his head back, fingertips digging hard into Dean's back as Sam's balls drew up, his lips parting, "Dean!!!" He screamed his master's name as he screwed his eyes tightly closed and started to cum, hard and hot against Dean.

Both of his arms closed around Sam, he dragged him down on his cock, over and over, pressing his face into Sam's throat, listening to his cries... his shout, "yes," he shouted back, his teeth biting into Sam's shoulder as he released with an intensity he had never felt in his life. His innocent, only Sam could do this to him. "Yes, yes... I'm sorry," he licked where he'd left teeth mark, then found Sam's mouth, kissing him with the same fire as had been in his gut earlier, then slowly gentling, and sucking his mouth as he pulled back. "You... alright?" he asked, resting his forehead against Samuel's.

Sam took a deep shuddering breath, nodding as he pressed his lips together, nostrils flared as he panted his breaths, trying to calm himself.
He turned his head slightly to look at his shoulder where Dean had bitten him, but was unable to see anything. A small smile pulled at his lips. "I think," he swallowed, "I think we do need to wash now," he said with a breathy chuckle.

"Mmm," he agreed, still holding fast. "Samuel, are those the sounds you heard at the monastery. The sounds that scared you?" he asked, his nose rubbing against Sam's ear as he spoke.

Sam frowned slightly before he shook his head, "N-no, I - I'm not twelve, I wouldn't have," Sam turned his head hanging it as he sighed and lifted a hand to run it through his hair before looking back at Dean. "No, the sounds I heard were crying and screaming and begging. They weren't," he bit his lip, blushing, "There was no pleasure in them, at all," he said, his jaw clenching as he raised his head slightly to a stubborn angle.

Yes he knew some knights were brutal in their love making, and some were so far on the edge by the time their innocents were ready for them that they might not be able to be gentle, but he had not thought it was so as often as Samuel had implied. "Well then, you're lucky you have me," he said, a cocky grin spreading over his face. "Let's get washed up, supper will be served soon."

Sam nodded as he eyed Dean. "Before," Sam said softly, "the one time," he cocked his head to the side, "you stopped," Sam nodded, and smiled softly, "Yeah, I am lucky to have you."

Dean ran his thumb over Sam's lips, "As am I." He smiled, "you can take your tunic off now. I won't ravish you." Standing up, he allowed his innocent to make his own decision as he began to scrub himself down, happy in his heart, happy in a way he had not been since childhood.

Sam smirked slightly as he stepped back, reaching for the hem of his tunic. Shaking his head, he pulled the material up and over his head, tossing it over the side of the tub. "Little late for those words, I think." Sam teased, a soft chuckle working out of him as he reached for a cake of soap.

"The way I see it, Sammy boy... you were the one doing the ravishing," Dean pointed at him, his gaze sliding down over his innocent's chest and abs. He forced his thoughts away from the bed sport that would take place later, or else he might forgo supper.

Sam's eyes widened as he blushed and hung his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

* * *

They ate supper in the great hall. Dean sat next to Sir Harry, with Sam at his side, and Peter next to Sam. There were other guests, and it was a large household so several tables were lined up. The servants brought big platters of meat and potatoes and chicken. The wine and ale was poured freely, though Dean made sure Samuel had water mixed in his wine. Kate sat across from them, and between her and Peter, he was sure Sam was entertained while he spoke with the master of the keep.

When the young ones and women left the table, Dean told Sam he could stay if he wanted but he'd probably have a better time with Kate than sitting around talking politics and about securing and holding lands. He caught Sam's hand as his innocent got up. "I know you sleep early, when you are tired, retire. Kate or a servant can show you the way if you've forgotten it."

Sam nodded, glancing at Kate and hiding his smile at her from force of habit as he looked back at Dean. "Alright, my lord," Sam told him before looking back at Kate. "Can we walk and talk?" he asked her.

"Certainly," giving him a knowing smile, she lead the way out of the dining hall and to one of the empty sitting rooms. "This is my favorite room," she said, twirling once. "It isn't dark like the others. I was allowed to choose the furnishings." Walking to the chair near the small stained glass window, she sat down. "It's different, isn't it? The world outside? I remember being terrified when I first left the convent."

Sam knew innocents were raised in many places, not just the monatery he came from. He nodded, lips pressed together tightly as he looked around the room. "And this is enough for you?" he asked her, gaze intent on her face.

"This? Oh no, I have the run of the keep. Whatever makes you say that?" She asked, getting comfortable on the chair. "I don't know how it was for you but I hated the convent I was in. It was..." She lifted her face. "Every day was the same as the last. It was tiresome."

A frown creasing his brow as he thought about the monastery and the few friends he had managed to make there. "No," Sam said, slowly raising his head, shaking it, "I don't mean the room, I mean," he sighed, looking back over his shoulder toward the entryway then back at Kate, "I mean being just Sir Harry's innocent. He - he doesn't love you, he's married to another. This is good enough for you?" he asked her, raising a hand ro rub his forehead as he started to pace the room.

"I thought, I mean, I had hoped that I would be the one that my master loved, that I would be his mate," he looked over at her and licked his lips before shaking his head again. "Christiana always told me I was a dreamer, but I thought that was because I used to dream of being a knight, not because I wanted to be loved."

"I like Elizabeth. She's kind to me," Kate nodded. "This place was in a bad state of repair. The marriage was arranged," she shrugged. "I've met other knights like them, with innocents. It's... it's always different. Has Lord Winchester said he'll take a wife?"

Sam shook his head as he paced over to a chair and flopped down in it. "No," he made a miserable face, "I haven't asked him," he licked his lips, staring off into nothingness, "maybe I don't want to know. I miss home. I miss the monestary, and I miss Christiana," he admitted softly. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know what I'm doing period. They say we can't touch and yet now I am told that it's alright to hug friends? I was told we can't look at one another unless we are dressed head to toe and then I find out that Lord Winchester had come by and spied on me? When I was undressed!" Sam's gaze finally settled on Kate's face. "I think if I were a knight I would refuse to take an innocent. I'd let this dark, whatever it is, consume me before I put another person through what we have been," he scoffed.

"The knights are brave men. Not all of them kind." There were several she might wish to the fires of hell. "They give up pieces of their soul to fight the darkness, to help the world. I think of... I think of us as doing the same, giving up pieces of our souls to rebuild theirs, so they can fight to rid the land of evil." She picked up her embroidery and played with the strings. "I like Lord Winchester. He can be rough but he is kind, and funny and very brave. Sir Peter said he killed a fearsome flea a sennight ago."

Sam's frown slid into a smile, then a chuckle before becoming laughter. He nodded to her, "I have heard he hefted his sword and fought longer than other men would have in order to kill a grotesque moth that had been attacking a lady's hair once."

"We should write a ballad in his honor sometime, detailing all his feats!" She dropped her embroidery and rubbed her hands together. "He has a far better sense of humor than my Lord," she told him, her eyes lighting up with and idea. "Perhaps when they are off to battle you can visit, or I shall get permission to visit you."

Sam nodded, sitting foreward in his chair, "I'd like that," he said smiling wide, "It would be nice to have someone to talk to, a friend." His gaze momentarily dropped to the floor when he paused, then looked back up at her, tilting his head to the side. "Kate, do you ..... Since your master has a wife, do you ever wish you could find love too?" he shrugged a shoulder, rubbing his hands together nervously before him, "I just don't know what I will do if Lord Winchester takes a wife, I mean."

"I... he says he loves me. I don't know if I love him back the way it is written by the poets, but I like my life here far better than in the convent. I had eight brothers and sisters. My parents allowed me to be selected. I remember crying every night." Tears stung her eyes. "Now I know, I was the lucky one. Only two of my siblings still live and my father is dead." Waving her hand as if it would take away the past, she gave him a smile. "I should like to be your friend too."

Sam pulled from his chair and walked over to her, offering her his hand, "I've never done this part," he nodded at his hand, "not allowed to touch, so," he smiled slightly, "but I hear I am suppose to help a lady to her feet." He smiled, waiting as Kate gave him her hand. "Have you ever outrun three monks in robes with your best friend when you were caught smearing mud in one anothers' faces?" he quirked a brow as he pulled her to her feet. "Shall we try that now? A race?" he asked her, grinning mischieviously.

"Race!" she agreed, her hair bobbing as his hand clasped around hers and they started to run. They screamed as they ran, and heard Sir Peter's booming voice, "Dean, you'd best rush above stairs... I hear gnats that must be vanquished."

* * *

Sam sat across from Kate as they both gulped down their second goblet of water, having run all over the keep for nearly half the night until both out of breath and near dying of thirst. "I think," Sam panted, fighting to catching his breath, his lips wet with the water they's been drinking down so quickly, "that you might just be faster than Christiana." He rolled his eyes, "I swear she was part humming bird," he gave a breathless chuckle, yawning afterward. "Sorry," he appologised,"I think it's past time for evening prayers, I must be up late tonight." Sam pulled to his feet. "I've had a grand time, Kate, thank you," he told her smiling wide, "Good night."

"Good night Sam." As he walked down the hall, she walked in the opposite direction to her quarters.

As soon as the hall was clear, a uniformed page ran after Sam. "Sire... his Lorship begs your presence. Sire!"

Sam stopped mid stride and turned around frowning. "He does? Lord Winchester wants to see me? Well, I was," Sam waved a hand toward the direction of their room, before frowning again, "where is he? Should I go somewhere else?"

"Follow me, out to the gardens." Without waiting for an answer, the page lead the way to a set of spiral stairs at the end of the hall. "Come quick, he said to make haste."

Sam frowned harder, before starting to jog along behind the man. "Is he alright? Is something wrong?" Sam asked as they hurried from the hall.

He didn't answer, but reached the downstairs and pushed the servant's door open, "hurry." They all but ran across the courtyard, to where a few horses stayed hidden in the shadows. Before Sam could ask any more questions, two men grabbed him from behind, stuffed a thick rolled rag in his mouth, then put a gag over it before they hefted him over the back of the horse so he lay on his belly like a sack of potatoes.

By the time he was hefted over the horse, Sam was screaming against the gag for Dean, though it certainly didn't sound like 'Dean'. The rough cloth in his mouth tasted like dirt and made him feel like emptying his stomach.

"Ha, ha!" Someone shouted at the horses, striking one of them. The horses started to run toward a small side entrance that should have been locked but had been kept open.

As the horses galloped, Sam kept trying to raise a hand to the gag, only to nearly fall off the horse on his head and he was forced to lower his arm down once more, distributing his weight in order to prevent himself from falling and being trampled by the beasts.

The sounds of hoofs striking cobbled stone alerted the guards and there was a hue and cry. "Over there!" Shouts and the sound of metal clanging echoed as men armed themselves in the courtyard.

Turning his head, Sam tried to see if anyone was coming to save him, but dust and dirt flying up had him needing to keep his eyes squeezed closed. His heart hammered in his chest as the horse carried him farther and farther away from his master. Dean! Please, Dean! What? Why? What's happening? He started to pray.

They traveled for a few hours before coming to a halt within the forest. Sam was dragged off the horse, the gag pulled off his mouth, and a knight in armor came to stand in front of him.

"So... you are Winchester's innocent." The dark haired knight grabbed Sam's jaw, fingers digging in. "He will not be happy with sullied goods, I'm afraid. Would that we had captured you before he had time to consumate, that would have destroyed him. This still might."

Sam stood before the knight, heart hammering in his chest, lips parted with his fearful breaths. As the knight grabbed his jaw, Sam grit his teeth together, stagger stepping backward. "Don't touch me!" Sam told him, hands raised to push the man's hand away from him. "I'd rather you kill me," Sam spat, eyeing the knight before him with distaste.

"What you'd rather is of no consequence. Alistair." A moment later, the knight released Sam and had a few servants help remove his armor. "You do have an innocent look about you. How many times has he taken you?"

The others snickered.

Sam's mouth opened, then closed as he glared at the knight. "It's none of your business what Lord Winchester and I -" Sam's mouth moved but he couldn't make himself say the words, couldn't say that he wasn't going to tell this man how much they had touched each other, did things together. Sam took another staggering step backward as he eyed the knight. "What - what are you gonna do?"

"Form a line," he told his men. Immediately there was arguing as to who would take Sam next, after the knight. He motioned toward a tree, and two men pushed Sam against it, each of them pinning one of the innocent's arms against the trunk. The knight walked up to him, grasped his tunic and tore it off him in a single motion.

Sam struggled against the men who held him against the tree.r "No! Let me go! Let me," Sam's words faltered as he gasped, his clothes torn from his body. Sam's eyes were wide as he looked at the knight, struggling hard as he shook his head.

"Isn't this... fine." The knight touched the silky undertunic. "Do you think he will offer a ransom for your return?" Before the question was answered, the silk was torn off Sam's body, and the knight stepped foward, pressing against him.

Sam grit his teeth as the knight pressed against him, pain lancing his flesh where the metal from his weapons jabbed into him. Sam grunted out a breath, "Don't. do. this." he told the knight between clenched teeth. Sam turned his face away, lips parting as he gasped in breaths, panic and fear making his breaths quicken, his heart hammering inside his chest. "He - he doesn't care about me, this won't get you anything!"

Cupping Sam's chin, the knight crushed his mouth over Sam's, giving him a brutal kiss that left bruises and blood.

Sam whimpered against the knight's lips, tried to keep his mouth closed only to have it forced open as Sam tried to turn his head, tug his arms free of the men holding him. He gulped in air as he stared wide eyed at the knight. He could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, feel areas that were cut from the man's teeth and the harshness of the kiss.

The knight's hands went to Sam's breeches, he tugged them down, stepped back, and motioned for others to cut them off Sam's body. "Do you beg him for it?" He laughed. "I bet you beg pretty. Beg me... right now... beg."

Sam tried, in vain, to kick at the hands that grasped at him. His head snapped up, his gaze meeting that of the knight as Sam shook his head, pressing his lips together. Oh God, no.

One of the men pinched Sam's nipple. "Answer him."

Gasping in pain, Sam struggled and shook his head. "No! Don't touch me! I do not beg for it! Leave me be!" Sam told him, "Lord Winchester," he shook his head, "he does not care for me, this will get you nowhere, please, let me go!" Sam pleaded, pulling hard against the hands that held him.

"BEG," the knight shouted, backhanding him. Stepping back again, he undid his own breeches, and pulled his cock out. Watching the quivering boy, he found himself already leaking. The shouts to take the boy had his blood going and his patience was running thin.

The slap had Sam's head snapping to the side, pain slicing through his cheekbone and a low raw cry of pain ripping from his throat. Slowly turning his head back, Sam's eyes widened, as he saw the knight's thick arousal. "No! No!" Sam yelled, panicked, as he struggled, cringing as much as possible against the tree, knees starting to buckle at the idea that this was the it the others had screamed, begged and cried over. Sam started to tremble, tears stinging his eyes as he shook his head, "Please..."

Unceremoniously, he found himself turned around, though his arms were never released through the manouver, the front of his body slammed up against the tree, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sam tried to draw in enough air, to remember how to breathe. "No! Don't do this! No! Oh God no!" he struggled harder, yanking and pulling at his arms, hands clenched into tight fists, but he was only pulled back, tighter against the tree, so much so that his cheek was nearly crushed against the rough wood as he turned his head to the side. "Please! Dean! Oh God Dean!"

*

He heard his name shouted in his innocent's distinct voice. As Dean bore down toward the group, ahead of the other knights with him, all those places in his heart that had hurt, that had panicked and broke, that had been torn down, were suddenly replaced by anger, as hot as his other passions.

*

Held in place, unable to move, to get away, to shield himself, barely able to breathe, Sam feltt the knight touching him in places he had no right to, felt the knights cock at the cleft of his ass. Sam's heart stuttered in his chest, lips parting as he screamed, tears falling down his face.

So this was that the others had been so afraid of...

Dragon Spell 3/? [NC-17] Dean/Sam, SPN Xover Dragonriders of Pern

2009-11-26T06:39:05Z

Banner made for us by the highly talented incomparable inanna_maat

Title: Dragon Spell
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) & brimstonegold
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: SPN X-over Dragonriders of Pern (by Ann McCaffrey)
Ratings/Warnings: NC 17, some non-con/rape, hurt/comfort, fantasy world, Wincest/incest
Summary: Snooping around in his father's storage locker, Sam touches something he shouldn't and gets sucked into a world where dragonriders must protect their world from a continuous threat of threafall. Dean follows and finds Sam has lost his memories. Until they get out of this mess, they have to ‘make like the natives.’

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

When Serance wiped Sam's own come across his face, Sam thought he was going to throw up. He hadn't wanted it, and he tried to convince himself any man would come to a hand job like that, but if he had trouble believing it himself, how could anyone else? As the Holder's son made his promise that this wouldn't be the only time, Sam closed his eyes. He would never let that man touch him again. As the binding was cut from his wrist, he hardly felt the cut to his arm as well.

As soon as Serance was gone Sam curled in on himself and simply laid there for a time, staring into shadows. He didn't really care if he became a dragonrider. He had never had such hopes to begin with, orphaned and taken in, and always the outcast, always just a little odd, just a little...off. He looked down at the tattoo on his chest. It was strange. He remembered getting really drunk on wine one night at a party when he was younger and the drudges had happily finished off any left over wine. He woke up with the strange symbol on his chest the next morning but he had no recollection of actually getting it put there. Even so, it gave him a strange sort of comfort and he told himself it was a protection emblem, but if it was, it was certainly doing a poor fecking job of protecting him. And why did he insist on putting salt across the doorway to his quarters? He had no idea. He remembered the trouble he had gotten into stealing salt and using it for that. Soon after that he came up with the idea of pouring salt into the reeds, so no one would know.

He was a freak. Maybe he had been giving signals to Serance that he wanted this, that he deserved this...

Finally, he pushed himself up, his breath hissing between his teeth, and wiped the last of his tears away. He pulled on the wool garment Serance had ruined and wrapped it around himself and called Deanie. The fire lizard was immensely upset, chattering worriedly and finally landing on his shoulder and burying its head in Sam's hair.

"It's okay, Deanie, it's okay," he tried to reassure, but he felt anything but okay and Deanie knew it. "C'mon, I need your help. Think you can check the halls for me so I can get to the bathing pools unnoticed?"

Pulling its head out from beneath Sam's tangled mop, it chirped at him, took to the air, and popped between.

Gingerly, he made his way to the bathing pool, Deanie helping him get there unseen. Once in the warm waters he washed his own come from his flesh and carefully cleaned around his tender and bloodied hole. He had no idea how he was going to walk normally come the morning but his jar of numbweed might make it easier. The wrist Serance had bound was deeply bruised but at least the cut wasn't deep. He would ask the weyrlingmaster in the morning for an audience with K'tol as soon as possible. He would simply tell the man he changed his mind, that he didn't want to be a dragonrider and beg him to take him north and leave him some place, any place. He had spent his entire life alone among people. There would be little difference if people weren't there. He had Deanie at least, so he would never be quite so lonely ever again.

Morning came too quickly and he was so stiff and sore it took everything in him to bite back his groan as he sat up. He saw he had spotted a bit of blood from his damaged rectum and quickly pulled the cover over it. He saw Selina's too sharp eyes notice his bandaged wrist and scan over his back where a few of the healing lashes had been re-opened by Serance's harsh treatment. He hoped she would ignore it as he quickly pulled a fresh robe on. There was nothing he could do to hide his bitten and bruised lips.

Oh no. Selina's heart sank low in her stomach. His expressive eyes were begging her not to say anything, not to ask, and yet how could she not? When they were almost alone in the barracks, she moved close to him, but didn't look directly at him. "The werylingmaster is not a bad man. He would not stand for this." She didn't know exactly what had happened, but the signs of his ravaged body were enough to tell her it was wrong. "I'll go with you."

After secreting the jar of numbweed in his bag with his stylus and wax plate he would need for the harper's class after breakfast, he didn't look at her as he walked toward the door. "You would be dead by nightfall," Sam said softly. "If not you, one of the others that had dared befriend his slut. Just stay away from me," Sam said. "And don't think of telling the werylingmaster anything. I'll deny it was against my will and deny who it was. I will not be the cause of anyone's death and too many, if they do not call him friend, at least call him master. Just leave me alone. Tell the others to do so as well. If all goes as I intend, I will be elsewhere before the last rays of the sun fade from the sky. Know that your kindness, however brief, was unexpected and appreciated."

"And if the situation were reversed. Would you walk away?" she asked just as softly, following right behind him and knowing in her heart if he told her the truth, his answer would be the same as hers.

Sam stopped and turned, looking down into her caring eyes. "Do you have Ruathan blood in you, girl? You're as stubborn as they are rumored to be," he said trying to dredge up a smile for her. "If it were you, I would find the best duelist and have them protect your honor." He gave a sigh. "I will ask the werylingmaster for an audience with K'tol today, all right?" he told her. She didn't need to know that had already been his plan. "Now best you pretend you have not befriended me. I don't want you hurt. The others as well. I've spent all my years friendless. Another day or two shouldn't matter."

She hugged him suddenly, and kissed his cheek. "Just until you speak with the werylingmaster," she agreed. "But I won't wait forever." This boy had a gentle spirit, and it shone from him. There was something about him, something different, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "Werylingmaster, go," she smiled, giving him a slight push.

He stood frozen when she hugged him and kissed him except for the slight flush of red that colored his cheeks.

"All right," he finally managed, "I'm going."

Finding the weyrlingmaster at breakfast wasn't difficult. He slipped away briefly to get some more numbweed on his tender posterior and the badly bruised wrist that at this point hurt to move. When he approached the master, at least he was moving with a little less pain. He approached the man and waited until the older man acknowledged his presence.

"Weyrlingmaster, I very much need to speak with Weyrleader K'tol at his earliest convenience. I need to speak with him briefly about an important personal matter. It is urgent to me and if he could see me today, I would be very grateful."

"And what makes you think the weyrleader has time for a candidate?" D'rak asked, seeing the candidate robes before he ever looked up. His watery gaze took in everything and he frowned at the injuries the candidate had suffered on his watch. Leaving his breakfast, he got up. "Follow me," he said with the weight of authority in his voice.

Sam swore under his breath. Why couldn't someone just do as he asked? Well, that would change soon, he consoled himself. He would have no one to answer to but himself. Dutifully he followed D'rak, grateful his legs were long enough that he could walk a little slower without losing pace.

Walking out of the dining hall, D'rak lead the way to his office, pushed the door open and pointed at the chair with his chin. "Sit." Once Sam moved inside, he closed the door and took his seat on the other side of the desk. "I am responsible for you, not K'tol. How did you come by your injuries?" He had not heard of any fights among the candidates.

Looking at the hard chair, Sam steeled himself and sat down, trying to hide the discomfort. "With deepest respect Weyrlingmaster, I would rather speak to none of this other than with the weryleader." He couldn't meet the man's eyes. He suddenly felt so dirty and ashamed. He just wanted as far away from Serance as a dragon could possibly carry him. Surely Serance or one of his cronies saw him speaking with D'rak and if he wasn't gone by nightfall, he feared the retribution he or one of his new friends would suffer at their hands. "Please Master D'rak," he begged, finally daring to meet his eyes, "is there any way the weyrleader might speak with me today?"

"He is a busy man. I will have to justify the drain on his time, and I cannot do that if you don't tell me what this is about." He stared at the boy for a long moment, then reached inside his drawer. Bringing out a wineskin, he poured a little into a cup for the candidate, and pushed it to him. "Drink, then gather your thoughts."

Sam accepted the cup and stared into the dark red liquid for a moment before taking a sip. He was certainly no judge of wine but the wines served when Lord Serance held a gathering (and the drudges usually managed to skim some of the leftovers) were of better quality. That should be no surprise for such fine wines would not find their way to the weyr. He finished off the wine hoping that somehow it might bolster his courage.

"I was leaving the hold when the dragons chased me down during the search," he began slowly. "I was leaving the hold for good. Then when one of the dragonriders offered me a chance to come here, I thought it would get me away from...a situation that had recently worsened. I would rather be holdless than stay any longer in the hold for I knew the situation would only grow more terrible as the days passed. I agreed to come to try to impress and if I did not, then the dragonrider agreed he would fly my away from here, where I might be safe from...the situation. I did not anticipate that...that which I was running from would also end up here. I can not...I will not stay." Sam was shocked to find tears running down his cheeks. When had they started to fall? "I would beg of the weryleader to honor my request even though I am unable to honor my promise. I would like to stay," he said softly, "but the cost is not worth even the privilege of a chance to become a dragonrider."

Looking in his drawer, D'rak pulled out a kerchief and passed it to Sam. His expression didn't give away how troubled he was at what Sam was implying. Ordinarily, he did not make up his mind until he spoke to everyone involved but there was no doubt in his mind that this youth was being truthful. "You will go to the healer. She will keep your secret, as will I," he said, his gaze locking with Sam's, letting him know he understood the implications of his words. "You were chosen because... because a certain power appears to run in your blood. In this time of few hatchings, we cannot afford to let any good candidates slip through our fingers, I am sorry." There was a finality to his tone. "However, give me the name of this other candidate and I will make certain he is not only punished, but that he does not get near you again." D'rak's dragon bugled, echoing his outrage.

Sam reluctantly accepted the kerchief. He was acting like a child. But then Serance's words, his promise, came back to him. Fine, he would see the healer. Then tonight he would steal away and disappear. Injured as he was he would not be able to make the distance he would have otherwise, but he would get far enough. And just keep going. He had never had a choice, never, and he thought this place might be different, but he was as much a prisoner here as he had been at the hold.

He wiped away his tears and set the kerchief on the desk as he rose to his feet. "Thank you for listening to my situation, sir. If I give you a name, others will be hurt, maybe even killed. It was not the knife at my throat that forced me to go with him last night. At this point, my life has little meaning to me and I would probably welcome the blade if not for Deanie. As I have never had a choice in the course of my life, it was foolish of me to think here would be any different," he said bitterly. He gave a slight bow. "With your leave, I will go see the healer now."

It crossed D'rak's mind to refuse to allow the boy to leave without giving him the name, but there was more than one way to get to the bottom of anything. "You may go." When the candidate reached the door, he spoke again. "What are the names of the candidates who share your bunk, and the bunks to the right and left of yours?"

Sam paused, lightly resting his hand on the doorframe. If he wasn't able to get away, then he did not want Selina or any of the others suffering for his error in judgment in approaching D'rak. He should have just left. He shut his eyes briefly. He did not want them being forced to tell and Selina, at least, knew who it was. And the spitfire that she was would certainly and gladly tell.

"It was Lord Serance, sir. Too many here are from the hold. They will obey whatever he commands. If he is punished, he will simply order others of the hold to extract the pound of flesh from those in my barracks."

D'rak stood up. "He is no longer at the Hold, and make no mistake, he holds no rank here. He will be punished and any would-be cohorts shall be warned. Justice is swift in the weyrs." He walked up to Sam and patted him on the back. "What he has done... what I believe he has done, carries a strong punishment. We may be looser than the holds in what practices are acceptable, but the sole time that involuntary participation is acceptable is as a result of a mating flight. I am sorry this happened on my watch. I wish you had come to me before, you did say you were running from this man." He shook his head. "What is done, is done."

Sam inhaled sharply when the man patted him on the back. The lashing still hurt. "I was foolish enough to believe that he would make no advances on me with others around me. He will tell you it was not rape because even as he...took me, my own body responded in kind to his attention." Turning, he faced the man. He was tired of seeing sympathy. He preferred the dislike, or eyes that said clearly he was odd. "Please, Werylingmaster, do not punish him. I am a drudge, nothing more. I promise you, no matter what you do to him, or what you threaten, it will end in death. He is bold enough to poison his own father. Do you think he will have any regrets finding a way to end someone's life who has shown me kindness? And he will do so without proof being found that he was the source. I have lived all my life under his gaze. A few more days will not matter. The hatching is soon to occur, is it not? Then this will all be resolved one way or another."

"Your request is noted, and denied. On your way now." This candidate was under his care, as were others. None should be afraid for their lives. None.

Why wouldn't they listen to him? Did D'rak think Serance would acknowledge he didn't have power here, didn't hold sway here? The punishment would only make things so much worse.

As he made his way slowly to the healer, for that was one place he knew he should go before he slipped away this evening, he called Deanie to him. "You must watch over Selina, protect her little one. If she were to be injured because of me," he shook his head, "I could not bear an innocent hurt because of my weakness. Watch over the others as you can. Perhaps spy on Serance and determine his plan of revenge." He couldn't help the small smile. "What I wouldn't give to see that bastard be treated as he deserved, to see his punishment. Castration would be too kind." He stroked the fire lizard as it settled on his shoulder. "You are my best friend, Deanie. I will call to you tonight, to help me escape, then you will return to watch over Selina and the others at least for a few days. After I am gone, Serance will hopefully see there is no point in hurting them, for I will never know, and I will be the one he blames."

By the time he had visited with the healer and endured what in his mind was nearly as shameful an evaluation of his health as Serance's abuse of him had been, he arrived late to his lesson. He sat down at the closest bench he came to, away from the others though it was still within his barrack's group. It was apparent from the eyes on him that his stiff movements and abused body had everyone casting sympathy toward him and he hated it. The harper seemed oblivious to his late arrival, though he knew that was not the case. Casting his gaze about, Sam aw that Serance was not in the room and his heart sank. Still, at least he would have a few hours without that lustful gaze on him. Deanie settled on the table in front of him, watching him curiously as he drew the stylus through the wax. Whenever a ballad regarding the bravery of dragons and their riders was taught, Deanie seemed to puff out its little chest and softly chortle its pride.

By the time the lessons were finally completed, a light lunch was served to the candidates and then the news that they would visit the hatching sands to see the eggs. His heart jumped a little at the thought. At least he could see the eggs before he left, see what it was that might have been.

Heading to the warming sands, he was not surprised when Selina and Zarlin bracketed him on either side.

"You both would be wise to treat me as if I were stricken with the Illness," Sam cautioned them. "When did they take Lord Serance away?"

"He's no Lord now," she answered, a rebellious glint in her eyes. "As for your answer, 'not soon enough.'"

Zarlin nodded in agreement, but said nothing, averting his eyes from Sam's.

"They should rid the weyr of him. If he were to impress brown or worse yet, bronze..." Selina's brow furrowed at the thought. The ranking riders were often arrogant, and sometimes did have a bit of a cruel streak, or so she'd heard.

"Hopefully he will not impress," Sam said, thinking the hell Serance could make his life if he did become a dragonrider. There would be no escaping him. "Zarlin, I won't be offended if you choose not to stand by my side. Serance is a vicious man. Nor should you feel guilty for not hearing him come in last night. No one did. Even my fire lizard did not awaken until it was too late."

"We are all going to impress, the three of us," Zarlin said with a note of hope in his voice. "And if Serance does not impress, he will be allowed to leave." He, on the other hand, had been at different weyrs for all of five turns already, having really nowhere else to go since he was the youngest of the sons of his father Lord Barthow, and having failed to impress. Tanith, like most queens since the Illness, had failed to lay strong clutches, and too many of the young dragons were sickly and died right there on the sands as they hatched. Zarlin hoped this time would be different and that he would impress.

They climbed the steep stairs cut into stone, emerging from inside the weyr, and finding themselves on the sands in the caldera of the extinct volcano. There were five eggs. Six, if you counted the dark one that lay discarded by the queen dragon,Tanith, at one corner, against a boulder. No black egg had ever been seen. Some worried it might contain a diseased dragon while others believed it, like many eggs in recent times, would never even hatch. Though Tanith had separated it from the others, she allowed no one to remove it from the sands.

Sam could hardly believe it. Only six eggs. Probably only five. Of the twenty-four candidates only five would become dragonriders and only five new dragons would fill the sky. From the rumors that he had heard, a queen's egg had not been laid since the Illness. The current queens were growing older and it seemed less and less likely, though he knew from history there was a time there was only a single queen year after year, and a single queen egg lain when the prior queen was near death. But at the time of approaching Threads, the eggs should grow more numerous. Threads would be falling from the skies within a year or two, and there simply weren't enough dragons to protect the land from them. He knew also from his history that dragons could go back in time and rumors said it had been tried, dragons and their riders brought forward, but of those who came forward, most succumbed quickly to the Illness and died.

The twenty three candidates circled the eggs, a few daring to touch and stroke the shells that were still a bit soft. The sands were growing hotter though and likely by tomorrow or the next day, the eggs would have hardened and be ready to hatch. Sam saw the excitement on almost all of the faces of the candidates. A few, however, merely looked frightened and would not approach the eggs. The queen lay nearby, watching the candidates with little interest.

He would be no dragonrider. The chances were slim even if he were to stay. As soon as night fell, he would slip away. He looked over at the discarded egg and walked slowly toward it. Even with the healer's herbs, he still hurt. The black egg, so different from the others, cast aside, no one to stroke its shell and call to the dragonet inside. The pain in his chest was one of sympathy and sadness. It was like him. Useless, ignored, unloved, worthless. In a few days it would lay in the sands long after the other eggs had hatched, until someone bothered to take it to the midden where it would eventually be buried under trash, an oddity like himself, soon forgotten. He could hope he would be as quickly forgotten.

He stroked the shell. Like the others it was hardening in the heated sands, but it was still a bit soft here and there. The egg shifted slightly under his touch and Sam jerked his hand back guiltily. His touch must have disturbed its place in the sand.

Suddenly he found it hard to breathe and his first thought was that Serance had somehow poisoned him. He felt a soft thrum in his chest and looked up to realize its source was the queen dragon, watching him intently. The black egg rocked suddenly and fell on its side. Deanie began flying around him, chirping and crying as if he were in distress, diving repeatedly at the egg. Sam tried to call to him, to calm him down, but it was growing harder and harder for him to draw breath. His gaze suddenly shifted to the queen, to Deanie, and then to the egg that had all but ceased rocking.

Sam began tearing at the black shell with his fingernails and when that seemed ineffective waved Deanie down to claw at the egg. He just needed a start, something to get his fingers under. Deanie landed on the egg and bit hard at it until he got that first gouge into the egg. Sam began working frantically at that small rip.

Some of the candidates shouted, horrified that Sam was doing more than touching an egg, even one that would either be empty or might as well be. Others had seen it shift and feared what would come out. They weren't ready.... there were rituals to be performed. And then there were some who kept well away wanting nothing to do with the sickly thing.

Weyrlingmaster D'rak ran to the edge of the sands, shouting. "Have you lost your fecking head, boy... what are you doing. Leave off, leave off I say... Samuel!"

Sam ignored the shouts as he dug deeper with his fingers. He could just feel the softness of the membrane under his fingers. He pulled hard at the shell, trying to get more of it opened. When he had what he hoped was enough of a hole made, he grabbed hold of the membrane and yanked, shouting in triumph when he felt the membrane finally give. He quickly rolled the egg so the fluid could drain out. He wasn't surprised when he suddenly found he could breathe easier, but still the egg was motionless though the queen continued to hum at him.

He shook off the hands trying to pull him away from the egg and struggled to get the shell broken open. Finally the shell peeled back, revealing a barely struggling dragonet. A black dragonet. Sam pulled at the membrane to get the fragile creature out, Deanie helping as he could, nipping at pieces to help sever them for Sam. Sam lifted the creature's large, wedge shaped head with effort. The dragonet was easily the size of a large bronze dragonet.

There was a huge united gasp as people caught sight of the black. Gold, bronze, brown, blue, green... those were the colors of dragons, those were the ranks, from highest to lowest. What was this? D'rak and some of the other dragonriders immediately understood the large questions that this would raise if the black dragonet survived.

"Get on the sands, lads... move closer." D'rak shoved some of the scared youths closer. "Go in... it's your duty." Many of them did, though most hoped the thing would not choose them. They were hoping for bronze after all.

Sam stroked the dragon's sticky face, begging with everything in him that the dragon survive. "Come on, don't you die on me! Fight!"

The dull eyes began to glitter with life and it slowly raised its head on its own as it flapped its wings awkwardly. Adoring eyes focused on Sam and he heard the dragon in his mind.

"Hello Merith," Sam said, stroking its eye ridges. He laughed. "Of course you're hungry. Dragons and fire lizards are always hungry."

Sam looked up guiltily at the weyrlingmaster. "I'm sorry, it was dying, drowning, I had to help it. It wouldn't have made it to the hatching."

D'rak held his gaze, and nodded. "The needs of the dragons come first." He did not know how Samuel had known the dragon was in trouble, but there had been times when a bond was formed even before the dragon broke out of its shell. "Come S'muel, I will show you your new weyr, and you will need to feed Merith."

Sam shook his head. "No, it's still Samuel, not S'muel. Merith is a queen," he said softly.

There were trumpets of approval from the other dragons, and much chatter about the unusual coloring of the dragonet, however the dragons didn't care much, it was their humans who had much to say about that.

"Queen?" D'rak cocked his head. Immediately, he mentally communicated with his dragon. {Rezmuth, the boy claims the black dragon is a female. Is that... Surely that sickly thing is not a...}

{{She's a gold.}}

{But she's black... she can't be... There's no such thing as a black gold!}

{{There's no such thing as a white dragon either.}} Resmuth's smirk could be heard in the mental thought. When the white dragon, Ruth, had been hatched, it had caused quite a stirring among the harpers and historians as well.

{Tell all of the dragons to announce the birth of a gold to their riders.} D'rak went to assist Sam with his new dragonet.

The instant the announcement went out, dragonriders started to flood the area, coming to take a look at the new queen. There were gasps of surprise as people saw that the black egg had hatched, and the so called queen was a black dragon. They needed a gold so badly, but to be saddled with something that might die, that was likely sickly, it was a sad day for many. There was also much laughter. A boy had impressed a queen! That was unheard of. There were many mutterings about 'she-boy' and too many other speculations.

Sam looked over at Selina and Zarlin and shrugged a little helplessly. He certainly had not meant to Impress. He was going to leave tonight but now...he certainly couldn't now. At least now that he had a dragon, it was unlikely Serance would be able to touch him again. He prayed Zarlin impressed and Selina, well, there might not be a queen but women had impressed green dragons in the past. If they impressed, he wouldn't have to worry about them because their dragons would sound alarms and be able to tell all what was happening to them, who had harmed them. If they didn't, he would have Deanie keep an eye on them. He was certain Deanie could tell him if Serance went after them, and he could tell Merith who could tell the dragons and the dragons could tell the other riders. Maybe not the most efficient plan, but so long as it kept his friends safe.

D'rak led him down to the lake so Sam could wash Merith free of the amniotic fluid, scrubbing the dragon clean with the sand. By the time he was done, raw meat had been brought down and Deanie had already snatched one of the smallest strips he could find for himself.

"You have no manners," Sam scolded his fire lizard. "That's Merith's first meal."

The black dragonet didn't seem to mind though and, a little steadier on her legs, walked over to the meat and quickly began devouring the offered meal. Sam was glad when the cramping hunger he felt in his own belly began to ease. Once Merith had eaten, D'rak returned and led them to their weyr.

The weyr was quite large and airy, with a nice ledge for the dragonet. Once she grew to adulthood, a bigger weyr would be assigned, but for now, Sam and his dragon would be in the caves designated for the weyrlings. The weyr consisted of one large room, a curtained off area for the bedroom, and a privy. "You can speak to the headwoman about selecting some furnishings. It should be quite comfortable."

Sam stared in awe at the huge room. He had never had much more than a room eight paces long.

"Show her where she is to sleep. And never leave her alone, she'll wake up confused... you'll need to reassure her." Before he left D'rak went over some other rules for taking care of the dragonet.

"Something like this has never happened," Sam said. "A black dragon, or a queen choosing a man."

D'rak waved his hand in dismissal. "The harpers will research this. It is upon you to ensure the new queen is tended not whether or not this has occurred in the past." His task done, he left Sam and the young dragonet.

Sam guided Merith to her spot which was currently bathed in sunlight. She settled down happily. Sam stroked her hide and realized that gold filegreed the darkness of it.

{Why by the first egg did you choose me, Merith? A queen is suppose to choose a girl to Impress,} Sam asked her.

{{You are different. I am different. You were in pain. I was in pain. You needed me. I needed you.}}

It was obvious it seemed perfectly clear to her and should be to him as well.

{But I don't think a queen has ever chosen a male before. Even men who prefer the company of other men.}

Merith nudged him to scratch her eye ridges. {{They itch still.}}

{Merith?} Sam asked again as he obediently scratched her itching skin.

{{Yes, right there. Yes.}} She hummed, pleased. {{You think nothing of the other female dragons, the greens, choosing males. I liked you. I could feel you. I could hear you. None of the others cared. They were frightened. Had they been closer, I would have taught them fear.}} She rumbled almost threateningly. {{Those who fear us as we come into the world, those who radiate nothing but fear, they must be removed as unworthy.}}

{That's why dragonets kill candidates sometimes?} Sam asked, shocked.

{{The others won't speak of such things but their chosen know this.}} She pulled her head back on her sinuous neck and studied Sam, her faceted eyes glowing. {{You are so very different. Deeply forgotten, lost memories. Lost loves. Lost everything. But now you have me. I will never leave you. We will fight the Threads, we will protect. Saving people. Hunting...Threads.}}

Deanie popped from between and chirrupped at Sam, half scolding. Merith chortled at the fire lizard.

{I didn't think most dragons were particularly fond of fire lizards,} Sam said calling Deanie to his shoulder. Deanie settled and chirped at Merith.

{{Annoyances, most consider them. I like Deanie.}}

{They think you might be sick, that you might die, don't they?}

Merith rolled over, exposing her full belly to the sun, shifting to adjust her wings. {{They fear needlessly. And Rezmuth's Impressed, he is wrong. I will be fine alone and I will not wake up confused. I will, however, wake up hungry and ready for another scrubbing. And Deanie needs a good scrubbing and oil. Go. Get the things that will make you comfortable. You are hungry. Eat.}} She chortled again. {{And by the first dragon, get the salt you seem so obsessed with.}}

Sam was a bit startled by Merith's comment about the salt, but realized he would have to get used to her knowing his every thought. Because of the love and comfort he felt coming from her, that didn't really bother him. After a moment of hesitation, he hurried to find headwoman Danai. He was still learning his way around the weyr and ended up passing a room that made him pause. After a second look, his eyes widened in surprise. It was Serance, naked, on his knees. His back and buttocks were criss-crossed with a severe lashing and he stared at the wall, his arms stretched up and out, ropes leading to metal eyelets deeply buried in the stone. A man sat in the room at a table, reading over parchment. He looked up when he saw Sam standing there.

"Be on your way. This one has a day and night to stare at the wall and ponder his grievous crime." The man looked over at Serance. "A repeat of such a crime will not be treated so kindly."

Sam couldn't help but smile a little. Serance deserved a lot more, but at least he had received something for his violation of Sam. For the first time, someone had stepped in on Sam's behalf.

Three days passed. Sam had already tended to Merith's daily scrubbing when the other dragonets arrived with their future riders. He had gone to the hatching, Merith wanting to watch, and he had wanted to root for for Selina and Zarlin. Three bronze, a brown and a blue were the colors of the new hatchlings. Z'rlin became the rider of the brown Gilleith. Two others of Sam's barracks impressed as well, F'sarn and T'lan, a bronze, Meteronth, and blue, Silvesh, respectively. Two of the other barracks both impressed bronze, A'drerash impressed Tarnak and...S'rance impressed Curanth, the largest of the dragonets save for Merith. Sam took what solace he could that as a rider of a queen he had rank over the Lord Holder's son, but knew too that when Merith rose to mate, S'rance's bronze would be among the leading contenders...

[Earth]

The world had been a much darker place these last few months for Dean. His brother missing. A part of himself fucking missing with Sam. There had been no sign of Sam, none. Dean had grilled Bobby about the last things Sam might have touched or played with at the storeroom. Together and separately, they researched the hell out of the artifacts his dad stored. Nothing, they had not a clue.

Dean had driven across the states and back several times over. Consulted everyone from psychics, to tarot readers, to faith healers, and had been this close to summoning a crossroads demon in desperation when Bobby caught him and knocked him out. He always returned to the warehouse, to the scroll... trying to make sense of it, trying so hard.

Then he'd received a phone call from Bela. She asked to meet him and claimed to have information to sell. She'd demanded the head of a Merkhaddi demon in exchange. That had taken him three weeks. Three weeks to hunt it down and another to recover from his wounds. It wasn't precious for no reason, as Bela pointed out when she saw his state. She also told him he looked like shit, which he couldn't argue with. He'd lost weight, his face was drawn, his eye sunken in. He thought he'd seen a flash of sympathy in the cold woman's eyes, but no, that was impossible. Not from her. The trade had gone smoothly and he hadn't put any hope in what she'd given him anyway. There were only so many fucking dead ends you could bang into before enthusiasm became elusive.

Bela had given him a book. At first he'd been about to throw it against the wall seeing as it was written in that Goddamned language on the scroll that no one recognized. But then he'd looked through it again and again, and the words on the page changed. English... he could read it. Now he understood Bela's comment about persistence paying off.

The things he read were fantastic... unbelievable. Another world? A parallel world which had its own cycles of armageddon? Destructive 'threads' would fall from the skies, too few warriors to stop them, depleted ranks of fighting machines called 'dragons' their only hope. Some of the things he read made no sense, but what did make sense was that the book reported--and he had verified -- that scrolls similar to the one in his father's storage room had appeared in many places. Those who fell asleep while or right after reading or rather looking at them had a high chance of disappearing, of being 'drafted' into this 'other world;s' warrior class... or something. Not all of it was clear to Dean. What was clear was that Sam was in another world or dimension, and most likely had been mind wiped in the process, if the book was to be believed. Now... it was up to him and Bobby to find a way for him to go after Sam, without the memory loss, and to bring him the hell back where he belonged.

Impatient, Dean nearly imploded over the next month as he tried to find a way to follow Sam without losing his memories, and with a way to return. He and Bobby had tracked down anyone who might know something, any piece of the puzzle, experts in different fields, and in the end, a month later, they still didn't have satisfying answers. They knew for sure that if Dean fell asleep looking at the scroll and if he 'qualified' as a draft potential, then he would be pulled through to this other dimension. They'd also figured out that items would go through with him, so he'd written a letter to himself explaining the situation, as well as a recording on an mp3 player. They had no idea if electronics would be wiped out during a wild trip like this.

Then there had been the various shamans, acupuncturists and psychics that had been visited, to supposedly create a protective 'shell' around the parts of Dean's brain that dealt with memory. Did he believe they'd succeeded? He had no fucking clue. The thing of it was, he had no choice. Just like he told Bobby, there was no way he was leaving Sam in some strange world, not alone. If they could get back, great. If not, they'd at least be together. If I remember him when I get there.

The plan for getting back was real thin. Someone or some people on the other side had created the travel-scrolls, so if he found those people, he should be able to find out how they sent the scrolls here and make them do the same for Sam and himself. At the same time, Bobby would keep up the research. If he found anything, he'd make some kid fall asleep with the scrolls and take the information to them.

No, What?! Dean had looked up at Bobby, then seen the older hunter had been kidding about using some kid, but he said he'd find a way to push stuff through, and Dean knew he would. Whether it would get to Dean specifically, that was another unknown. He figured he could go back to wherever it was he landed and check periodically for anything that Bobby sent over. Assuming it wasn't some cesspool that he drowned in - Bobby's words, not his.

Before they hugged and said goodbye, Dean got an earful of what a fool he was for doing this with no safety net, nothing. He knew all that, but it changed nothing. He'd given his soul to bring Sam back from the dead, and he would damn well give his body too cause that's the way it was, always had been between them. He'd always had one job, Sammy was it. Keep him safe. Even when Sam could take care of himself, that was still Dean's priority...always would be, until the hellhounds took him, collecting on his deal, in a few short months.

Dean put as many little things as he could into his pockets. Silver knife, dagger, pistol inside his waistband, the mp3 player, and a few other things. He touched his amulet, but left it under his shirt, then got on the bed next to the scroll. Grabbing the remote, he flipped the tv on and put some coins into the machine at the side of the bed. Nothing like magic fingers and porn as a send-off.

Dean woke with a mouth full of sand. Spitting, he sat up and looked around. He couldn't have made it... And yet, that big red star in the morning (he thought) sky.... "Holy fucking shit, I made it... it worked."

The Other Side Of Thanksgiving, 3/3 [NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-11-25T19:32:50Z

Gorgeous banner made for us by the fantastic vamptastica

Fandom: SPN, AU
Title: The Other Side Of Thanksgiving
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) and Fetish ( sam_dean_fetish)
Pairing: IndianBrave!Sam/Dean
Rating/Warnings: NC 17, slash, major character death, the boys are both 17 and not brothers, AU
Characters: The characters belong to Kripke and are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.
Summary: Setting - The story takes place in a fictional English settlement in the American colonies in the mid to late 1600s. A bountiful harvest leads to a Thanksgiving Feast shared by the Colonists and the local Cherokee Indians. Dean Winchester, the son of a preacher, finds himself attracted to an Indian brave, Sam. Coming of age type story. Not a happy fic, no HEA

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

(A/N & WARNING: There are some insults/slurs in this chapter. While it should be obvious, we nevertheless expressly state that the words that come out of our characters' mouths are not beliefs that are endorsed by the authors. Rather, they are used to paint a realistic picture of the times and the beliefs (including racial prejudice) and speech patterns of some people who lived and acted in a particular way during the period of time our story takes place. Those who cannot handle it, or who hold the belief that a work of fiction should not include this type of language for the stated purpose, please read no further.)

Sam gave a nod, though he couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips at his once so shy Bhadrak's now very open acts of love. Sam's hands slid over Dean's sides and hips as he held onto him. At Dean's reminder of being 'skinned' Sam smiled. "You are going to wear breechclouts? Loin clothes?" Sam's smiled wider. "We may never come out of our teepee," he chuckled, one hand already going to the blade at his hip.

"You might be right," Dean agreed. He'd worry about how he looked in a loin cloth later. Right now, he just wanted out of his constricting clothes and he wanted Sam's hands on him. His gaze flicked down to the blade, then back up to Sam's eyes.

Reversing their positions, so that Dean was standing against the tree, Sam placed the blade against the fastening at the neck of Dean's shirt."Don't move," Sam told him softly as he started slicing away the material with a gentle and expert hand, the blade cutting through the fabric, not ever touching Dean's skin. Slowly the material started to fall away from Dean's body, revealing his bare chest. Sam's eyes shone with mischief and his lust for his Bhadrak as he leaned in and ran his tongue around Dean's nipple, sucking it hard into his mouth.

Once, Dean would have thought the rush of excitement was obscene. Now... now he knew better. Sam was right, God... or Father Sky would not have given you the senses to enjoy another person, if he expected there to be no joy in coupling, and he wouldn't have made man love man, if it was so wrong. The moonlight glinted off the knife, and Dean leaned back harder against the tree as Sam cut his shirt off. The sound of tearing material... the hunger in his lover's eyes, sent Dean's need spiraling. The instant Sam's mouth was on him, his head rolled back against the bark, his hands at his sides, biting into the rough wood, as his love brought his body alive.

"Oh God... Sam..." he shuddered, bringing his hands up behind Sam, running them down his long hair, over his back, pulling him slightly closer as the brave moved his mouth and tongue over him in ways that had Dean pressing his lips together to prevent a moan. "So good," he whispered, running his hands under the brave's hair to touch his smooth skin.

Sam smiled against his Bhadrak's chest, warm breaths fanning his skin as he slid his tongue across his chest to Dean's other nipple, taking it into his mouth, giving it the same attention.

Pulling his mouth away, Sam crouched, gazing up at Dean as his hands rose to the waistband of his breeches, knife sliding in between his stomach and the material. "U-wo-du-hi (beautiful)," he mumbled softly as he slowly pulled the knife downward, cutting the fabric away, then readjusting his hands to peel open the front of Dean's breeches and under clothes, revealing his bare flesh. Slipping one hand into the fabric, Sam wrapped his hand around his lover's cock, pulling him from the bit of material that still constricted him from being freed.

A soft sound slipped from Dean's lips as the knife did it's work, cutting him free from restrictive clothes he would never need again. As Sam reached for him, Dean moved his hands to his lover's shoulders, squeezing in reaction to the ache from one touch of his lover's hand. He bit his lip and tried to stay still, eyes glued to Sam's lips, stomach tight in anticipation.

Leaning in, Sam ran his tongue from the base to the tip of Dean's cock, moaning softly as he pulled his head back just enough to look up at Dean's face as he swallowed, biting his lip. "O-si-yu, good?" Sam asked , voice deep and husky with passion.

Dean leaned down, kissed Sam, tangling his tongue with his, then pulled up, his eyes dark with desire. "O-si-yu. Very good," he answered, fingers now running through Sam's long hair, pulling him close. "More. Please." If they'd waited to do this by the stream, he'd have shouted the plea, but he had to keep his voice low here.

Sam gave a nod, tearing his gaze away from his love's face to look down at his cock, hard and proud, jutting upward toward his stomach. Sam licked his lips and leaned back in, licking him from base to tip, then swirling his tongue around the crown, dipping it into the slit, licking away the precum pearling there. "U-wo-du-hi," Sam mumbled softly, reaching up, long fingers curling around Dean's length before Sam took his cock into his mouth, sucking him until his cheeks hallowed out, then sliding his mouth along his length.

Very quickly, Dean was chanting, "O-si-yu, O-si-yu, so good... Sam..." and thrusting into his lover's mouth, his hands digging into Sam's shoulders. Wet heat surrounded his cock, Sam's tongue pressed him between sucks, until Dean thought he might go mad with pleasure. Seeing his brave, the love in his eyes, the care he took in bringing him this pleasure every time they came together, took Dean's breath away. "Always thought I was born unlucky," he told Sam. "But I have more luck than any man deserves." He thrust a few more times, then pulled his lover up, whispering in his ear, "Want to be inside you, want you so bad."

Sam gave a nod, "Tsa-du'-li-a ni-hi (want you)," he answered softly as his hand slid into Dean's pulling him away from the tree, fingers laced together. "E-he-na, come" walking backward, Samrat led them a few steps farther into the woods, glancing behind him every so often until he found a place, a clear spot with a patch of soft grass blanketed in fallen red, orange and golden leaves. "Here," Sam told him with a nod as he slowly got down onto his knees, his gaze searching Dean's face, eyes filled with love and desire for his Bhadrak.

Dean kneeled in front of him, slanting his mouth over Sam's as he crushed their mouths together in a long, heated kiss. He'd never get tired of this, it had gotten to where he got edgy when he didn't see Sam for more than two or three days. He hated it when his brave went off to war. Once he was a full member of the tribe, there would be no reason for them to be separate... he'd train as hard as he needed to, become a brave, and stay at his lover's side. Always.

He broke the kiss. "I love you. Tonight we start the rest of our lives, together," Dean said, kissing him again even as he moved behind his brave, and broke the kiss.

"Love you, my Bhadrak," Sam answered softly, his head turning as Dean moved behind him, trying to kiss him, see him, as long as he was able.

Dean's hands slipped up and down Sam's powerful thighs, under his longer breechclout, leaning against him, pressing his cock into his lover's lower back as he groped. Sensing Sam's impatience, he found where the buttery soft suede was tucked, pulled on it, and watched the loin cloth drop to the ground. Spitting in his hand, he leaned forward, whispering in Sam's ear as he prepared him, telling him how it would be in their teepee, and how they could sleep under the stars when they wanted, and how they would grow old together without any shame.

Sam moaned, his eyes sliding closed as he tilted his head back, lips parted as he panted out his breaths. Swallowing he slowly lowered his head and licked his lips. "It will be perfect because you, a-qua-da-nv-do (my heart), will be there," Sam answered, reaching back with one hand, to cup Dean's face as he turned his head, kissing him hungrily, messily. Tongues tangling inside and outside of their mouths.

Groaning, Dean kissed him back with all the love in his heart, all the excitement for their future. Moving his hips forward, he positioned the blunt, wet tip of his cock and started to rock forward, slowly, is mouth now skimming over Sam's jaw, neck and shoulder. He pushed in very slowly, working his cock inside, biting his lower lip as the sensations rippling through him made him want to take his brave hard and fast. So tight... so warm and tight around him, his lover was... perfect.

Sam panted and moaned, groaning as he rocked back against his lover's cock, one hand moving to his own hard length, squeezing and sliding his fist along his length. "Ugh... more... do not stop..." Sam panted, as his face flushed with passion, head bowing and lifting as he tried to push back against Dean. Good, so good. It always felt so good to make love with his Bhadrak.

"Not planning on stopping," Dean smiled, but as the next wave of heat swept over him, his smile wavered and he gripped Sam's hip tigher. His free hand moved over Sam's, taking over, stroking his hard cock each time he ground himself against Sam.

Sam panted, moans and groans tearing from his thoat as he rocked himself back on his lover's cock, loving how he felt inside of him, how full, stretched and filled with his love.

They were both leaning forward, more with each hard thrust, sounds breaking form both their lips. "Fuck... Sam... you make me so hard," he whispered, fucking just a little harder, pulling out and slamming inside his lover again. He didn't have to say anything, Sam dropped down onto all fours, and Dean had more leverage. He kissed along Sam's throat as he started to move with wild abandon, pushing both of them to the edge, sounds breaking from him as the ache in his lower belly sharpened.

"V-s-ka-ga, v-ska-ga, v-s-ka-ga," Sam groaned, "Yes, yes, yes... my a-si-u-le e-hu, my a-si-u-le e-hu...." Sam mumbled breathlessly, always nearly abandoning the White Talk when they made love, his body on fire for his Bhadrak. The heat that sang through his veins, pooled low in his belly as Dean continued to fuck hard into him, his hand sliding over his hard cock, pumping him in rhythm with each thrust. Sam grit his teeth as he arched his neck back, eyes squeezing tightly closed. "Bhadrak," his lover's name a tortured groan torn from his throat.

"Now... Now Sam, with me..." he demanded, fucking hard into his lover and holding for a moment as his entire body went taut... every muscle, his balls pulling up, time stopping.

Sam's balls drew up painfully tight, his entire body ridged, muscles tense. As the first shot of cum left his cock, Sam released his breaths in a rush of air, throwing his head forward as he rocked, hips thrusting into Dean's fisted hand and back against his lover.

"Angh.. Sammy," he gave the tortured cry as he came hard deep inside his lover, spilling his wet hot seed, filling him, gripping him as another wave of pleasure coursed through him.

"V-s-ka-ga... ugh... do not...." Sam panted body writhing under his lover, "stop..." he shook his head, weakly riding out the last of his orgasm.

Dean knew what Sam wanted, needed, and he gave it to him, moving deep inside him, slowing as Sam started to slow. He milked his lover's cock of everthing he had, squeezing gently as his hips finally rolled to a stop. Kissing Sam's cheek, he waited for him to turn his face, and kissed his lips once more. Slowly, Dean pulled out. He used his shirt to clean his lover up, then tossed it aside. "Won't be needing that," he whispered, pulling up and giving his hand to Sam. He had to hold onto his breeches with the other hand.

Grabbing up his breechclout, Sam took the offered hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he pulled to his feet. "Won't be needing these either," he told Dean, moving fast to yank at his breeches, laughing and running away from him as his lover's pants were pulled down to his thighs once more.

Turning, Samrat crouched as he would in battle, though he still only held his breechclout in his hand, eyes dancing with mischief as he looked at Dean, waving his free hand for him to come to him. "Let me see Bhadrak da-nu-wa--a-na-li-hi." Sam chuckled playfully.

"I think you saw enough," Dean huffed, pulling his clothes up and trying to knot the material as he followed, glowering at the playful brave. "You're lucky I'm slow because I ate too much," he made excuses for not having seen this coming. "Your name should be emperor fox, not wolf... you're much sneakier..." Dean saw Sam's gaze shift suddenly to a spot behind him. Half thinking he was joking again, but turning anyway, his heart almost stopped when he saw a group of men approaching. Securing his pants, he started stumbling backwards as the men started hurling insults at both of them. Dean turned his head and saw Samrat pulling his breechclout on.

Sam didn't speak a word to the white men who had approached them, questioning what they were doing, making crude suggestions and tossing out hateful slurs. Men who spoke with, di-gv-tsu-gi, forked tongues. Pretending to have befriended the Cherokee, only to secretly hate.

Some of the words they spoke, Samrat Waya did not even understand, but he knew enough to know they were bad. The way they were spoken, his Bhadrak's reaction to them. He knew, they were very bad things. Samrat did the only thing that he, a warrior knew to do, placing himself between the bad men and his love.

If Dean hadn't seen the rage in their eyes, especially in the eyes of the brother of the girl that he'd been approached about marrying, he'd have tried to talk them down. He started to reach for Sam to pull him back, to shout "run!"

It happened in a blur of movement, one minute he and Dean were backing away from the five men and the next there was shouting and pain. Samrat's hand went to the blade at his belt as the men moved in on them, kicking and slicing, stabbing at them, fighting as a warrior fights. Samrat's blade found home in one of the men's shoulder's as he fought to fend them off.

Dean pushed away one of the men but saw that the others were zeroing in on the brave. "Samrat--" His warning was cut short by the meaty fist that slammed into his face. He pulled away, tried to get free, this time shouting his lover's name out as the brave was outnumbered by his attackers.

Sam's weakness was hearing Dean's voice. Turing his head to look, to seek out his love, was Samrat's undoing. The three whites fighting him used that moment of diversion to attack, tackling him to the ground, even as Samrat continued to kick and slice his blade in the air at them.

His self defense earned him hard blow after blow with the butt of a rifle across his face. The brave's blood splattered and sprayed as his head snapped to the side, the rifle making contact with a loud whack as it hit and broke bones. Samrat's blade fell from his hand. As he slowly rolled over, another white man had taken out his own knife and kneeling at Samrat's feet, he sliced the blade across the back of Sam's ankles, first one then the other, cutting, splitting tendons.

"No. Noooo, wait... fuck ... Samrat," Dean shouted hoarsely, held back by two men. A kick to his kidneys had him falling on his knees, tasting blood... eyes glued to his brave... his brave, now bloody and broken. "Stop. You know who he is... he didn't do anything... Help, HELP," Dean started to call out when he was punched again. His head was jerked back, and a kerchief was stretched across his mouth, his shouts now muffled by the cloth.

Sam clenched his teeth, pain-filled grunts leaving him as he tried to turn over, raise up on his hands and knees, only to fall as pain wracked his form. Trying again, his arms shook. The sound of the white man's laughter muffled as if from far away, ringing in is ears. More pain than he had ever known wracked his body, made him want to cry out, to scream, but Samrat did not. He held it in, held it at bay, unwilling to allow these men to have the satisfaction of his pain. He was a warrior, proud. Unwilling to allow his Bhadrak hear his shouts, not wanting to scare him.

How could this be happening? He was Samrat Waya, son of Chief Wohali Ahuli, these white men were suppose to be their friends, their new brothers. He had spoken to his father on their behalf, his people had taught theirs to plant and to hunt, to survive in this land. Samrat did not understand men who could lie like this. Was their word not good, had they no honor?

Pushing himself up once more on weak shaking arms, Samrat tried to crawl, only to throw his head back, biting his lip as excruciating pain shot up his legs from his ankles. His breaths panting out, Samrat turned his head, looking back at his own mangled feet, his pain glazed eyes passed over his love as he turned his head.

What were they doing to him? Wasn't it enough they'd crippled him? Dean tried to get to Sam, tried to fight to reach him. To touch him, help him off the ground. Their eyes met, and his filled with tears for the pain his brave was suffering. Stop... please stop... they could barely hear him, and weren't listening. When he was too much trouble, he was tied to a tree, so the men were free to go after Sam. Noooooo. His eyes once again met his lover's. Fear... fear for his lover... shame, at what his people were doing to him... all of it tore Dean apart. They'd stop now... they'd had their fun... they had to stop now... The rope burned his wrists, the bark of the tree scraped his bare back as he struggled to free himself.

"Listen to that, the Injun doesn't even feel anything! He isn't even making any noise." The man turned his attention to Dean, leering, "cept ones I'm sure the likes of you are enjoying. Abomination! Isn't that what your father preaches from the pulpit about the stuff you were doin' with a savage!? A heathen!?" the man chuckled and shook his head, watching as Samrat tried to move, to drag himself away.

"Stupid fuckin' Injun!" he yelled as he quickly pulled out his hunting knife and raised it high, plunging it deep into Samrat's back.

Dean's eyes widened in horror. No... he knew that man, Mr. Smith... he couldn't... wouldn't... But when the blade sank into Sam, Dean went wild trying to pull away. No... no... not his beautiful brave. Kind, always generous, Sam... he didn't deserve this, he didn't... God.... they were the animals, not the Indians... they ... his own people were the animals. Sam!!!!!

Dean's stomach twisted, he wanted to throw up his guts as he watched his lover's eyes widen, watching his hand automatically reach back toward the blade buried in his back. His brave rolled to his side, his face toward Dean, giving Dean a clear view of the damage to his lover's face, the blood running down from his nose and mouth, the glazed pain-filled look in his dark hazel eyes. Oh my God... no... no.

As the knife was savagely torn from his back, Sam only gazed into Dean's face, jaw clenched and still held at a proud stubborn angle. "I-li-s-go---lv-ta-nv Dean ha-ni-gi (let Dean go), i-li-s-go---lv-ta-nv Dean ha-ni-gi," Sam said weakly, breathless. Swallowing, Sam coughed, panting pained breaths, "U-do-hi-yu-i (please)"

It was the first thing Samrat Waya had said since it all began.

Dean shook his head from side to side. No, he was the one who should be beaten, cut... not his brave. Why... why were they doing this? He couldn't, didn't look away from Sam, though he tried in vain to tear himself away from the rope cutting into his skin.

"What the hell is he saying?" one of the men asked.

"I don't know. That damn heathen savage double talk," another of the men spat, kicking Samrat in the ribs, though Sam kept his gaze locked with Dean's, a small pained grunt leaving him.

Dean wanted to shut his eyes, wanted to make all this go away. He shouted against the cloth, he pleaded for Sam's life, he cursed the men to hell, he begged that they take him... leave Sam, they'd done enough. Oh God... hadn't they done enough?

"Get the Injun on his feet. We're going to teach him to talk the way God intended. Not that damn heathen shit," a man said, the one leading the others.

Dean's head moved side to side again, eyes pleading with the men who only showed him their backs. Dean started to pray. In his heart, in his gut, in his soul, he knew it was too late... but he prayed, he did what his father taught him and he prayed. He made an oath... his life... let him live, let them go, and I will never touch a man again, I will give him up, I will give myself up... let him live, God ... let him live...

Three of the men went over to Sam, wrestling with him as he continued to fight, to struggle against them as best as he could while they bound his wrists behind his back before lifting Sam up on legs that would no longer hold him on damaged tendons. Looks of pain crossed the brave's face, though he still made no sound as he grit his teeth, stared challengingly at those who had betrayed him as they held him against a tree.

One of the men wrapped a rope around Samrat and the tree to hold him up, binding him to it as another brought over lye soap while the others pried Samrat's mouth open, rough hands squeezing at the hallows of his cheeks, at his jaw joints, plugging his nose so he had to open his mouth to breath.

Sam tried to turn his head, to fight back as best as he could, teeth clenched, eyes wide with a fear he would not, could not allow them to see, until he couldn't fight them any longer and his mouth was pried open.

They force fed him the lye soap. It burned his throat and nose, stung his eyes and made them water, it made his nose to run, his mouth foam. Blood ran from his nose into the soapy foam that bubbled from his mouth turning it pink.

Laughing, they stepped away from the Indian. Maybe to give Dean a better look, maybe just to view their own handy work.

Head hanging, Sam panted fearful breaths through foaming parted lips, gaze locking with Dean's, eyelids half closed. Blood loss and pain taking their toll, making him want to give in to the darkness that hovered at the edges of his vision. Made him want to let go, to fight no more forever. But, he refused, seeing Dean, his Bhadrak looking at him, watching him. He could not just let go.

Tears flowed down Dean's face... while his lover bled. He struggled and fought, while his lover held still. He screamed and shouted through the gag, while his lover gave them only his proud silence, and told them to fuck off in his own way.

"String him up." One of the men called out.

A noose was tossed over the tree branch next to Sam, four men on the other end of the rope waited for the other to wrap the nose around Sam's head, cutting free the one length of rope holding the Indian upright, his legs having long ago buckled limply.

Gaze still locked with Dean's, Samrat did not fight the noose, only kept his gaze fixed on his love. As the other men pulled and heaved on the opposite end, Sam's body slowly rose, feet dangling off the ground. They tied the rope with Sam only about the foot off the ground, watching as he slowly choked, his body twisting and turning on the rope, jerking as he kicked, tried to find purchase with damaged feet.

Laughter, cruel laughter echoed around Samrat Waya as blood vessels slowly broke in his eyes, face turning a deep purple color, eyelids slowly drooping and closing.

No. God. No. Dean's prayers changed all of a sudden. He prayed for Samrat Waya's death. Take him... take him God... please take him now... take him.... take him...

"Oh God, die already will ya, ya damn heathen!" one of the men spat, pulling out his knife, stabbing Sam in the lower chest with it.

Sam's head jerked back, eyes still closed, body twitching and convulsing as blood ran in deep scarlett rivers down his abs, dripping onto the ground at his feet. Sam's body slumped in the noose, head hanging, head tilted to the side, eyes closed.

"About damn time. Now go cut the preacher's kid free. I think he's learned his lesson."

As one of the men walked over to Dean, another climbed up, cutting the rope leading to the noose around Sam's neck. Sam fell to the ground in a heap, body limp and unmoving.

The ropes were cut away from Dean's wrists and body, and Dean was kicked in the back. As he stumbled toward Sam, he pulled the gag off, and the men melted away into the night. He dropped to his knees, pulling Sam into his arms, crying hoarsely. "Samrat... Sammy... oh fuck... Oh God..." he buried his face in Sam's neck, his face instantly wet with his lover's blood. "We were supposed to be free tonight... free..." His shoulders shook as he held Sam tighter, "free..."

Samrat's eyes slowly opened to mere slits, looking up at his Bhadrak, lips moved, but no sound came out as he tried to tell Dean one last time that he loved him. Not to weep for him. But the lye soap had damaged his throat, his weakened body had no strength left to push the words out. Instead only a small breath of air pushed out between parted blood stained lips.

Feeling Sam move, Dean lifted his head. He was alive... Dean tore off the ropes around Sam's wrists, throwing them as far from them as he could, and looking down at his lover. "Samrat..." he choked and whispered in Cherokee, "I love you. Love you... my beautiful brave."

Sam gazed up into his Bhadrak's beautiful green eyes, eyes like the grasses of Mother Earth, they had made love on. Slowly one of Sam's hands moved, sliding across the dead grass and fallen leaves up onto his chest where Dean's hand lay. He looked down at his hand, watching as he struggled to make it do as he wanted, slowly sliding their fingers together, lacing them. His gaze darted back up to Dean's face, before his eyelids slowly began to close, blackness engulfing him in it's warm, pain free, embrace and, this time, because his Bhadrak was safe, Samrat Waya welcomed the darkness with open arms.

Dean's fingers threaded with Sam's, were wet and sticky with his blood. "I was dead before you, Sam. You brought me to life. You are my life, my breath... and I... I am still no poet," he said, his voice cracking with the knowledge there would be no more jokes, no more pretty words like only his lover could weave, no more lazy nights by the stream. Lowering his head, he kissed Sam lightly. "I will... " He started to cry, couldn't speak... his brave had hardly made a sound, and he was crying, dammit. Forcing himself to stop, he spoke again. "I will see you in the Hunting Grounds... go... Godspeed," he kissed him again, feeling his lover's life slipping away.

They would have no teepee of their own, there would be no fighting side by side as braves, there would be no growing old together, no loving one another free and wild among Sam's people, for Samrat Waya died that Thanksgiving day in the arms of his love. Because Dean's people did not understand the love that could exist between two men and because of their callous disregard of the people of what they called the 'new world', Samrat and Dean's dreams disintegrated to ash.

* * *

He could have stolen a horse or taken a pull wagon from the fields. Dean did neither of those things. Unable or unwilling to be parted from Sam for even a moment, and too numb to think straight or even to feel his lover's weight, Dean carried his lover's body. One step at a time, wetness spreading over him with each passing moment, stumbling, in turn angry and sad, his hopes and dreams... his future crushed with his lover's death, Dean approached the Indian camp.

It was early, the sun was only now rising. It had taken him long to get here. He fully expected to bear the chief's anger... it was fine by him. He wanted nothing more than to join Samrat Waya... to hunt with him in the Hunting Grounds beyond life.

Dogs started to bark. He saw a few silhouette's, braves standing watch. He tried calling to them, but his voice was low and raspy... he just trudged on, looked forward to his reconciliation with the one who meant everything to him.

Activity was only just beginning in the village, fires burned low as squaws started breakfast, dogs ran between the teepees, their attention on the one walking toward their home as they barked and carried on fiercely. Slowly everyone's attention was drawn to the white man who walked, stumbled slowly toward them, a brave in his arms.

A loud shrieking cry went up from some where in the village and more figures emerged from their teepees, Samrat's father Chief Wohali Ahuli among them, his attention also on the one who approached.

One minute it had been dead silent in the village save for the small sounds of a day beginning, the next there were murmurs, worried voices, shrill cries and tears.

Tayanita stepped out of seemingly nowhere, blocking Dean's path, his face set in angry lines as he looked from Dean down to Samrat, then back up into the white man's face. "What are you doing with him!? What have you done!? You killed him!? He loved you and this is how you repay..." Tayanita yelled in Cherokee at Dean as he reached out, grabbing Samrat's wrist in his hand, tugging his friends body out of the white man's arms.

Sam fell to the ground in a thud, but Tayanita did not flinch at that fact. Walking backward he continued to drag Sam's body away from Dean, pulling him into the center of the village.

Maidens ran to Samrat's form, falling on their knees around him weeping as they held onto their great chief's dead son.

Samrat Waya's mother, Onacona, stepped proudly from their teepee, walking slowly over to her son, her silent tears slowly falling down her pretty face as she knelt on the ground beside Samrat. Pulling her son's head and shoulders up into her lap, she rocked back and forth as she sang a mourning song, her cheek laying against the crown of Samrat's head.

Tayanita's face twisted in rage at the sight, in the blink of an eye he had his tomahawk in hand, running toward Dean, slamming him against a tree, holding him there by a handful of his short dark blond hair, ready to scalp him.

Even as he was roughly pushed against the tree, Dean's gaze was on Sam's body, until it was surrounded and he could barely see his brave. His face was wrenched up by the tugging on his hair. His gaze now met Tayanita's. He recognized the rage, the lack of empathy or reason... he'd seen the same look only a short time ago, in the faces of the men who'd brutalized and killed his lover. Taking a breath, he clamped his teeth together, praying for Sam's courage... praying he would die like a brave, his brave, without a single plea passing through his lips.

Tayanita's eyes narrowed as he looked at Dean, his arm holding the tomahawk swung back as dark brown orbs locked with green. "He was my best friend," Tayanita growled in Cherokee just before he gave a loud war cry, swinging his arm, the blade of the tomahak, toward Dean's head, his scalp.

Just before th tomahawk reached Dean's head, a hand cought Tayanita's arm. "Tla no, Tayanita." came Wohali Ahuli's voice beside them, his grip tightening around the brave's arm as he shook his head. "A-tsu-tsa u-yo-hu-sv, I-li-s-go---lv-ta-nv, tla no gi-ga-ha-i (my son is dead, let no more blood be spilled today)."

Wohali Ahuli turned his head, tearing his gaze away from Tayanita, slowly releasing the brave's arm as he looked at his people. "We will bury my son," he looked back at Dean as Tayanita slowly released him, "then we burn the white man's crops, take their horses, leave them with nothing before we go to make winter camp," he told them all, his voice flat.

Standing Deer, the medicine man, walked over to Samrat's body, nodding to another brave before bending to lift Samrat's upper body into his arms, the brave grabbing Sam's feet, helping to carry his body away into the holy man's teepee.

"How -" Wohali Ahuli's gaze searched Dean's face, "How did a-tsu-tsa (my son) die?" he asked softly.

Speaking haltingly... almost entirely in Cherokee, giving up his own people and tongue in the process... Dean rasped as loudly as he could for everyone to hear, telling the shameful tale, leaving no detail of both the brutality of the men attacking an almost unarmed young man, and Samrat Waya's bravery, his courage and honor until the moment his eyes closed forever. Dean's face was now dry of tears.

Wohali Ahuli gave a small nod of his head at the end of Dean's tale, reaching out to grasp Dean's shoulder, squeezing it for a moment before his hand fell away and he turned, walking back toward his wife, who stood silently weeping for her dead son.

Tayanita continued to glare at Dean, hatred clear on his handsome face. His angry gaze running over Dean before he turned on a heel, walking back toward the holy man's teepee and disappearing inside.

Hanging his head, Dean sank down to the ground, back against the tree. Yesterday at this time, he'd had a future... a bright one. Now, he only looked forward to his own death.

* * *

He was surprised that no one approached him, no one bothered or harrassed him, not since Tayanita had made his feelings known. Dean had kept to the edges of the Indian camp, trying not to interfere, but unable to tear himself away from standing watch over the tepee Sam had been taken into. When mourners stopped entering it, and he was sure only the medicine man was there, Dean walked to the tent, opened the flap and walked inside.

The medicine man was impassive. He listened quietly when Dean asked if he could have something of Samrat Waya's. After speaking a few moments, the man cut a thick strand of hair from Sam's head and called someone, a woman, in. While Dean held still, keeping his emotions in check, she wove Sam's hair into his own.

Quietly thanking both of them, Dean accepted Sam's knife, and took his bloodied breech clout. Sam had been changed into new finaries. They left him alone with the body, although he had nothing left to say, no more tears to cry. All he could do was recite the dreams they'd never live, and then he left the tent.

People were breaking up the other tents, pulling things down, preparing to leave this place.

"It is time," the woman who had tattoed Sam told him, as she rubbed the ashes from Samrat's now charred and burned breechclout into Dean's skin, low on his belly, near his hip. The picture of a lone wolf howling emerged... his emperor wolf, his brave. He'd been given suede pants to change into, he pulled them low in order not to irritate his skin. Wearing Sam's knife at his waist, he went to the place near the river, where people had gathered for the burial ceremony.

Once again, he kept himself apart, not wanting to intrude. But he stood at the very spot near the water, where they had kissed and played often. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear his lover's teasing voice.

Sam's body was buried with his bow and arrow, a knife he owned and had used, along with his own pipe and some tobacco. New feathers had been tied in Sam's hair, to go along with his now clean body, dressed for the journey into the Happy Hunting Grounds. After the Medicine Man said prayers over Samrat Waya's body, he was lowered into the small grave that had been dug for him, then covered with dirt and large rocks. Once he was buried voices raised in loud calls of mourning, their voices lifted to the Great Spirit.

With everything packed and ready, Samrat's body laid to rest, it was time for the Cherokee to take from the white man as they had taken from the Cherokee. Samrat had spoken on their behalf, with him gone, there was no reason to believe in the things these people said, no reason to try to keep any form of relationship with them.

Warriors prepared to ride out into the nearby white village, though Tayanita was not among them. His face painted for war, the lone brave set out for revenge against those who had killed his best friend, his brother, Samrat Waya.

* * *

Dean entered the settlement, clinging to the shadows of the buildings. Dressed as he was, if anyone saw him, it might draw too much attention before he finished this. It was strange how quiet the town was, as if there hadn't been a brutal murder less than twelve hours ago. He wondered how many knew... whether his father knew.

It didn't matter, he was done with that life. He'd seen his own people's forked tongues, and he had tried not to believe that in the end, more of them would come, prepared to believe they were the higher of the two peoples, that they were favored by God to rule these lands. Thanksgiving feasts were... they were a dream, an ideal. The truth was that hate, prejudice and greed lurked in the hearts of many... and they were not afraid to act upon it. Dean would have nothing to do with that, not anymore. The one dream he had left... a new one, was to send five men to their graves before he died.

He was in and out of his house without anyone hearing him, his shotgun in his hand as he climbed out of the window and dropped down onto the ground. He headed for the house at the far end of the settlement, the Roberts' residence. He glanced through the small window, quickly passing it and pressing his back into the wall. The table was being set for dinner, but he didn't see either the elder or younger Roberts. His gaze slipped to their stable. Quietly, he crossed to it and pushed the door open quietly. Eyes burning with anger, he aimed for the son first, images of how the bastard had poured the lye down his lover's throat twisting him up on the inside. He would show these people the same mercy they'd shown Samrat Waya. None.

Tayanita did not know the names of those who had killed Samrat Waya, nor would he likely be able to put them with a face if he did. It did not matter to the brave who snuck, quiet as the wind, through the white man's villiage. He did not care if he killed an innocent. Samrat Waya had been innocent, he had done nothing wrong and yet they had slaughtered him. He would show the same mercy to these people.

Catching sight of Samrat's white man, Dean, as he snuck through the village, Tayanita's eyes narrowed as he watched him, crept along behind him. If he were here to warn his people of their coming attack, Tayanita would have no qualms of slitting his throat. Samrat may have loved him, but look where such love had gotten his friend. Samrat was gone and Tayanita would no longer hear his friends laughter nor see the mischief dance in his eyes.

Following Dean out to a small stable, Tayanita climbed a nearby tree, dropping down on the roof, moccosin clad feet making no sound as he moved. Crawling across the roof to an open window, Tayanita waited for the moment to strike, his gaze laser focused on the three white men beneath him.

Dean's finger started to squeeze the trigger, but he stopped. If he made sound now, it would be over. He'd kill one, or both of them, maybe. But the others would be free. It wasn't acceptable. Quietly, he set the shotgun down and picked up the pitchfork leaning against the wall. In two steps, he reached the men.

"Father!"

The elder Roberts just escaped the sharp pitchfork. "They've turned you into a heathen," he shouted, taking in Dean's clothing... and war paint.

Face grim, Dean didn't answer. The time for conversation was long over. Whipping the pitchfork around suddenly, he staked the younger Roberts and pushed him into the wall with it. He wast trying to pull the pitchfork free, when a heavy bucket struck him from behind. Pain meant nothing.

Samrat's white boy was crazy. That was the first thought that Tayanita had as he watched Dean attack these men with a pitchfork. A pitchfork was too large and clumsy to fight with, especially in a small area against two men. Knife or tomahawk would be better.

Tayanita pulled his own knife from his his belt, taking it between his teeth as his grip tightened around the tomahawk in his hand. His bow and arrows were strapped to his back, though the brave hoped to do this hand to hand, to be there to make sure these people suffered as they died, the same way that Samrat had.

The elder Roberts hurried over to a wall, grabbing up the rifle leaning against it. Tayanita watched as the man aimed the rifle at Dean, eyes narrowing before he swung down, dropping into the stables behind the elder Roberts. With a loud war cry, Tayanita rushed forward, to the man, wrapping an arm around him, hand at the man's forehead, tilting his head back.

A rifle shot rang out as Tayanita's blade sliced the man's throat open, the gun slowly slipping from dead fingers. Looking up as he shoved the body away from himself, Tayanita's gaze fell on Dean. "Do it, then we go for others," he told him in Cherokee, jutting his chin at the younger Roberts.

Dean's gaze met the warrior's. He gave a nod, and completely ignoring the pleas from the younger Roberts, put his foot on the boy's chest, pushing him off the pitchfork, before stabbing him all the way though with it one more time. He ran to the door, "this way."

There were shouts ringing out, not in response to the gun shot, but because the Cherokee were burning down the the fields. Grinning, but his eyes mirthless, Dean pointed at a house. "Red hair. Also named Sam... Samuel. Meet you back here." He'd seen Mr. Smith run out and he knew the man was headed over to get his brother. He ran from Tayanita, ran like a man possessed.

Later, when Dean returned to the meeting spot, there was blood all over Dean's chest and on Samrat Waya's knife. Other settlers thought he'd been injured by the Indians who were still attacking. He shouted at them to help his father, and when they ran to help the preacher, he was alone.

Tayanita ran toward where he saw Dean standing, his bare chest was dotted with sprays of blood, his hands red with it, his dark eyes intent. He gave a nod as he neared Dean, stopping beside him.

"One more," Dean said gruffly, sure that the brave had accomplished his task.

"You... see him?" Tayanita asked, looking toward the scurrying people, running from the 'savage crazy indians' who were burning their fields and stealing their horses. Tayanita's eyes narrowed as he watched them scatter like mice.

They pulled back, against the building as Dean searched. He shook his head, "No. I don't see him." Anger built in his stomach. One left... he couldn't allow it. Looking up, he started to climb the side of the house. He moved fast, like he didn't care whether he slipped and fell or not. From the higher vantage point, he scanned the town and the part of the fields that he could see. Suddenly a smile split his face.

Dropping down, he looked at Tayanita. "He's by the well. They won't let you get close... you go..." he shoved the brave, and headed back into the stable where they'd killed the Roberts. Moments later, he emerged with a rope, tying a noose as he headed toward the well near the edge of the field, where people were taking water by the buckets, trying to put out flames.

Tayanita's eyes narrowed on Dean at the shove. Earlier that day, had he done that he would have found himself scalped with his throat slit, or Tayanita's arrow in his back. Now... now Tayanita was beginning to see how Dean had no part in his friends death. He had only been a witness to the horrible act upon someone who deserved none of it, and Tayanita had seen how much Dean was hurting, just like he was over the loss.

The brave did not go far, only slipping into areas where he would not be seen as he followed behind Dean at a distance, watching.

He saw Dean walk up to a man, there was yelling, though Tayanita was too far away, the noise around him too loud for him to hear the exchange, but punches were thrown afterward. As the fight broke out, Tayanita snuck back toward one of the stables still containing horses. Opening the stalls, he smacked all but one hard on the rump, watched as they took off out of the stable as if bad spirits were after them.

Grabbing the mane of the remaining horse, Tayanita jumped up on the animals back, slowly riding it out of the stable. It was then that he saw Dean once more, his nose bloody, a dark smudge along his jaw. He was in the process of sliding the noose around the other man's neck. The man who looked a lot worse than Dean did. His face bloody and bruised, the goose egg on the man's head could nearly be seen from the distance that Tayanita was away from them. Bhadrak had done well.

As the noose slid around the man's neck, Tayanita gave a loud war cry, digging his heels into the horse, the animal took off at a full out run.

"Jump, Bhadrak! Jump!" Tayanita shouted as he rode past, snatching the end of the rope, the noose, from Dean's hand. Just as the horse passed by, Tayanita felt Dean jump onto the animal's back behind him. Coiling the rope and tying it to the animals neck, they continued to ride, running the horse at a full gallop, dragging the last of Samrat's murders behind them.

It was the last thing Dean expected, but he moved at Tayanita's command and it probably saved his life because he would have been outnumbered if left behind. As they rode hard, Dean gripped the brave around the waist but turned to watch the body dragging behind them get battered and broken. Just as it should be. Smoke rose into the clouds, and yeah... it didn't bring Sam back, but it filled a part of the gaping hole he had there. Once he turned his back to it, it was for always. There was nothing there for him now, nothing.

* * *

It was late at night. They'd make camp and the fires were roaring. From what Dean understood, there was still a long way to travel. Really, the farther the better, from his perceptive.

He hadn't had much dinner. It hurt to look at Samrat's mother and father, even though both looked stoic. When people started to tell stories of his childhood and his bravery as a warrior, Dean moved away from the crowd to sit under a tree. Closing his eyes, he listened and imagined the events they told, trying hard not to allow his emotions to show.

Seeing Dean sitting alone under a tree off to the side of the others, Tayanita walked over and crouched beside him. "You... not want to hear of Samrat's youth?" he asked as he looked intently at Dean.

Opening his eyes with a start, Dean was reminded of all the times his own quiet brave snuck up on him. "I'm listening." He let out a breath. "I can... see it... in my mind," he touched his forehead, not knowing if he'd used the correct word. "Imagine it." He took another breath. "I'm sorry I couldn't... I couldn't do anything to help him. Nothing," he bit his cheek hard, punishing himself.

Tayanita nodded as he looked down at the ground, muscle in his jaw twitching. Slowly he looked back up at Dean, "I - I am glad he.... found you," he nodded, "You make him smile." He gave a small smile of his own. "He used to tell me, you were like the," he frowned, brows furrowing, before lifting his gaze to the sky, though it was dark, "Sun that shines down on all things and gives them life. You were that for him and it was good to see."

The brave hung his head, "I was.... angry that he died." He looked up at Dean, "And you were here, with pale skin, different, like them. I should not have done that." He shook his head, "I know that now." Slowly he moved to sit on the ground beside Dean, "Besides, Samrat always told me that Coyote needed looking after. You scare like brother buck and sister fawn," he nodded, smiling.

The truth was that Dean wasn't at all like the sun that gave life. He'd been Samrat's death... he'd been the one caught with Sam, it had been his people that had killed him. No, Sam would have been safe if ... The lump in his throat grew more painful. He licked his lips. "Not scared anymore, of anything." He lifted his head, saw the smile, and despite himself, couldn't help giving a soft laugh. Sam would have had them both laughing hard. "Except mocassined feet that make no sound."

Scrubbing his face, he looked over at the others breaking up to sleep. They would have an early morning. "We're both going to miss him.You think... maybe I should take the name Coyote?" He knew it wasn't very flattering, it was a joke... but it had been Samrat's joke.

Tayanita slowly looked over at Dean and gave an thoughtful frown, "Bhadrak wa-ya," gave a nod, "It's a good name." A slow smile spread across his face as he snickered. "I believe you are stuck with Bhadrak, you can blame Samrat for that," he chuckled nodding.

"Bhadrak Wa-ya," Dean gave a pained chuckle. "He said it wouldn't be good if I went around and said I am bhadrak. Somewhere, he is having a good laugh over this."

Tayanita pulled to his feet looking down at Dean. "Here," he said, reaching into the pouch on his belt. He handed Dean a pinch of herbs with a nod. "Standing Deer's woman gave me some. It will help you sleep. Dream good dreams," he told Dean with a nod. He started to turn and walk away only to stop and look back at Dean. "If you ever see Samrat walking around near the river when we go back in the spring," he gave a nod, "you tell him he still has my favorite arrow head." With that Tayanita turned and walked away, disappearing into his family's teepee.

Watching as the flap closed, Dean settled back against the tree, sure he wouldn't find sleep. He might not have taken the sleeping draught he'd been given, if not for the fact that they'd have a hard long day tomorrow, and he did not want to hold anyone back.

* * *

Dean woke with a start. Memories of what that day had brought returned, making him wish for the oblivion of sleep again, when a movement caught his eye. In a distance, a lone warrior, standing tall and proud at the edge of a forest, as if about to enter it.

"Wait!" Dean shouted and started running toward him. "Wait for me." He ran as fast as the wind now, unfettered by pants or by a tight doublet, leaping over fallen trees, intent only on one then.

Samrat Waya paused in his steps, hearing the voice that cried out to him, knowing it as well as he knew his own. Head held high, jaw clenched, he slowly turned his head to look back over his shoulder, eyes squinting in the bright day sun.

It was him. His Bhadrak. Turning around fully, a smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he watched Dean race toward him. Sam's gaze moved over his lovers form, taking in the breechclout and moccasins.

Dean staggered to a stop, eyes feasting on Samrat Waya, skimming over his face, and body, finding only unblemished skin. His chest rose and fell, fear and excitement making his heart pump faster, making him shake. "It is you." He took another step, reaching for his lover, his eyes misting the instant he drew the brave's scent in and knew this was no dream, it was real.

Samrat gave a small nod in answer as he looked at Dean and then he was being pulled into Dean's arms, his own slowly lifting to wrap around his love as he closed his eyes with a sigh. It was so good to see, feel him again. Opening is eyes, Sam slowly drew back, a small smirk pulling at his lips, that same mischievous light in his eyes. "See? With less clothes, you run fast like deer, not waddle like duck," he told Dean as he smiled wide, showing rows of straight white teeth and dimples.

We'll never leave our teepee. The words reverberated in Dean's mind even as he smiled at Sam's joke. He couldn't release him, wouldn't. "Let me run with you," Dean nodded toward the forest that would lead Samrat to his new life.

Samrat glanced back over his shoulder at the treeline, before turning his attention back to Dean, his smile now gone as he shook his head. "I can not, Bhadrak, I am sorry. You must stay here. I have to make the journey alone." He sighed softly, eyes sad as hazel eyes met greens. One hand moved to cup Dean's face, "I love you, my Bhadrak, I will always love you." his gaze searched Dean's face, "I will be with you, always." Sam gave a small smile before tearing his gaze away from Dean to look upward at the sky. "I am the sun that warms you when it is cold," he looked back at Dean, his gaze intent on his love's, "I am the wind that sweeps through your hair, the rain that licks at your skin. I am always with you, Bhadrak, you just have to look for me."

"I will always look for you," Dean agreed, pressing his cheek into Sam's palm, turning slightly to kiss it. A tide of emotion surge through him. "I love you. With my heart, my body, my soul... I love you, Samrat Waya," he vowed. "I keep a part of you with me, always." Desperately, he sought his lover's lips, his fingers sliding through long silky strands of hair as he cupped the back of Sam's head and slanted his mouth over the warrior's. Tangling his tongue with Sam's, he kissed him hard, tasting him, committing this moment... the way their tongues danced, the way their bodies pressed and swayed together, the feeling of their hearts pounding in their chests... all of it and more, he committed to memory. It would have to last him his lifetime.

Sam slowly pulled back, his gaze roaming over his love. "I have missed you," he told him with a smile. "I saw you," he nodded, "when you wept for me. Never again, Bhadrak. Only smiles when you think of me." He gave a nod as he took a step back, his hand sliding down Dean's face, his neck, his chest to his hip. One finger tracing over the lone wolf tattoo there. Samrat smiled as he looked back up at Dean and shook his head. "It is not right. He needs his Coyote with him." He gave a nod and licked his lips, "And maybe a large spear." He chuckled, reaching up to flick the end of Dean's nose playfully.

On the verge of tears, a short laugh worked its way out of Dean. "Anything you want." The familiar gesture had him swallowing over the painful lump. His heart ached for all that would not be. "I'll do it, Sammy." Sensing their time was coming to an end, he held tighter, eyes pleading for the impossible.

Slowly Samrat's smile fell away replaced by a look of regret as he sighed, "I have to go, Bhadrak. I have a long journey ahead of me. I will think of you, love you, always." Samrat Waya told him. The corners of his lips quirked upward slightly as he looked at Dean and gave a nod, "I like the name. It... suits you." He leaned in once more, his lips brushing over Dean's jaw, nose against his neck as he took in a deep breath, arms wrapped tightly around him. "Goodbye a-qua-da-nv-do (my heart)," he whispered softly before pulling back. Arms sliding from around Dean, Sam laced their fingers together, his gaze dropping to their hands. "When you cannot sleep," he looked back up at Dean, "just think of me there, holding your hand," he gave a nod, "I am." Dlowly he slid his hand away from Dean's, taking a step back, then another and another.

As Samrat slipped away from him, Dean couldn't help calling to him. "Samrat..."

Samrat turned, forcing himself to head away from his love as he knew he needed to, he felt the pull from the u-ne-qua (Great Spirit). Taking a few steps away, he paused, turning to look back at Dean, "Oh, tell Tayanita something for me?" he said. "Tell him, by the river, under the rock, near the oak tree," he nodded. "Now maybe he will stop whining like a mule about his arrowhead." Sam grinned, winking at Dean, before he turned again, adjusting the strap to his bow and arrows as he walked, back straight, head held high. Samrat Waya stepped into the woods, continuing on his journey.

The urge to follow him, to chase Samrat, to insist on going with him was so powerful, Dean had to grab hold of an overhead branch to stop himself. He couldn't disappoint Samrat... he'd walk in his footsteps, like he'd said. Grinning back, heart lurching as his lover winked at him one last time, Dean stood there, watching long past the time his beautiful brave disappeared between the trees.

Dean would welcome the sun, the rain, and the breeze... he would be with his brave in spirit, until he joined him in the Happy Hunting Grounds.

* * *

I give you this one thought to keep,
I'm with you still. I do no sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not think of me as gone
I am with you still, in each new dawn.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand there at my grave an cry
I am not there, I did not die.

(Most attribute this poem to Mary Frye, some sources say it it a Cherokee prayer and that the author is unknown.)

Claiming 9/9 [NC-17] Dean/Sam, SPN Xover Twilight

2009-11-24T17:18:59Z

Great big thank you to the talented smut_slut who made this banner as a prezzie, and got the atmosphere of the story just right.

Fandom: SPN X-Over Twilight
Title: Claiming
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) and Fetish ( sam_dean_fetish)
Pairing: Vamp!Sam/Dean, the Cullen family (from Stephenie Meyer’s “Twilight”)
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; dubious consent; Slash; bloodplay (Sam and Dean are not brothers in this fic)
Characters: SPN, Twilight and the characters from these t.v. shows and movies/books are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.
Summary: Dean is captured and held by the Cullens in their basement while they find themselves a new home, one where the hunters won't find them. Responsible for feeding and taking care of him, Sam Cullen develops an obsession with Dean. One that Dean foolishly tries to exploit.
Written for mre_quecky (who requested Twilight X-over fic with Dean being held prisoner by the Cullens) and serendip50 (who wanted Vamp!Sam and rude awakenings).

Master Post - All Prior Chapters

Mine forever. That did it. Dean started to suck and swallow the tangy liquid. His stomach roiled... protested, and then it was as if his body recognized the blood was like a salve... an anti venom for the burning pain. Almost wild with hunger, Dean's fingers dug into Sam's forearm as he gripped him tight and started to drink faster, drawing as much of the life giving liquid as he could, needing it... feeling it sweep the burning and numb sensations out of his body.

Sam raised his head as soon as Dean started to drink, a low groan sounding deep in his throat as Dean latched onto his arm. Biting his lip, Sam started to move again on Dean, inside him, thrusting his hips as he closed his eyes slowly, allowing Dean to take what he needed to be his forever, coming inside him one more time.

Too soon, Sam knew he had to pull his arm away. "Dean, that's enough, you've had enough," Sam told him softly, "come on, baby, let go."

It felt too good, the way it nullified the pain. There was something else too, it was like taking Sam inside him, a different way but having him be a part of him, a way not many would understand. Snarling under his breath, Dean refused and greedily took more, sucking harder, gripping Sam tighter.

"Dean!" Sam spoke his name louder, in a warning tone, "Let go," he said, trying to pull his arm from Dean's grasp. When Dean would not release him, Sam lowered his head, fangs at Dean's neck, "Let. go., Dean." He dragged his fangs over the tender flesh of Dean's neck. "You've hand enough. No more." Sam tugged his arm, this time freeing it from Dean's grasp.

Once he was cut off from the supply of fresh vampire blood, all the good sensations were gone. Dean could hear his heart... hear it slowing. He could feel his organs shutting down one by one. Eyes wide, he stared at Sam. "More... need more... dying," he rasped, mind a mess of confusion. Why... why was Sam doing this to him?

Sam nodded slowly, "I know, baby. I know. It's okay, let it happen, let it happe," he whispered leaning his head down to nuzzle Dean's neck, feeling his heart slow, skip a few beats, then stop all together.

All that was left now, was the waiting.

Even knowing that your love had to die to be turned, it didn't make it any easier for Sam. It didn't dampen the slight panic that welled up or ease the emotions that squeezed his dead heart. It didn't make the process any less painful, because, for all the knowing, somewhere in there, the part of him that remembered life and knew how fragile it was, became lost to dark possibilities.

Sam wrapped his arms tightly around Dean as he held him, rolling them over so that Deans head and shoulders were pillowed by his chest, his head tucked against Sam's neck as he ran a hand absently through his hair.

*

Everything was pitch black. Darker than anything Dean had ever seen, like he imagined space would be without stars and suns. Someone had put black ink in front of his eyes. He might not be able to see, but he realized he could hear. Real well. Too well. He could hear the wind outside, the rustling of trees. He could hear the cars, and even what people inside them said. He could hear a mouse squeaking, and yet he knew it was miles away.

And then he realized he wasn't breathing.

Sucking in a big lungful of air, he jacknifed up. His heart should be pounding loudly in his ears but wasn't. His pulse should be out of control, but it wasn't... it wasn't there. And then his eyes started to clear and he reached for Sam's shoulder. "What ... what's happening to me?"

Sam reached out to run the back of a finger down the side of Dean's face. "Nothing is happening to you, Dean. It already has happened. You're a vampire now. My vampire, my mate, forever."

Dean started to tremble. "I can't breathe." It was true, he had to think... make himself breathe or it wasn't happening. "So many sounds." He met Sam's gaze, then touched his own heart, troubled by the sound of silence.

Sam sat up slowly next to Dean. "You can breathe, you just need to think about it now to do it." Sam shook his head, "it's not required anymore." A small smile tugged at Sam's lips, "Yes, the noise can be distracting, but you'll learn to block it out." He raised a hand, covering Dean's on his chest, "It's still there, it just doesn't beat anymore, it has no reason to," he told him softly, as he patiently explained away Dean's fears.

Looking down, Dean moved his hand over Sam's, still trying to process everything. He swallowed, breathed in Sam's comforting scent, then whispered. "I want to see what I look like." He had to have changed.

Sam smiled softly, "You look the same, your eyes change color and you have vampire allure now," he gave a soft huff, "not that you need it, you're beautiful. " He leaned in and brushed his lips across Dean's. "We'll go upstairs as soon as you are stable and can walk."

Still trembling, Dean was quiet for a while, occasionally touching his lips to Sam's or his throat, or jaw... each time he felt the onset of fear of the future, and of what he had turned into. It felt like he was in a dream, part of him believing what was happening, another part thinking this could not be happening. He pressed his thumbnail into his thigh, pressed it hard and not feeling pain, pressed harder, dragging it up his bare skin and leaving a thin red line that started to bleed.

Sam silently watched Dean, one hand holding loosely onto Dean's, allowing the truth, reality to set in, letting Dean come to grips with the fact that he was no longer human, but one of the undead.

Dean's nostrils flared. Hunger surged. Swooping down, he licked up his thigh, drinking every drop and watching... as if mesmerized... his wound close, and heal. "I... I'm a vampire," he nodded, licking his lips. He wanted more, more blood, but shame washed over him, and he couldn't say the words.

Sam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, nostrils flaring as he watched the small crimson ribbon appear on Dean's thigh, watched as his mate lapped it away hungrily. As he pulled his head back, both their gazes glued on the wound. After it healed, Sam answered,"You are." Leaning in, he brushed his lips against Dean's neck, his ear, "and I know you must be starving." He squeezed Dean's hand, "let's go eat," he coaxed his love softly as he slowly started to pull to his feet, reaching out to grab up their clothes.

He'd chosen this. He was gonna face this. Dean nodded, and accepted Sam's help getting dressing, feeling less and less unsteady as the moments slipped by. As they stepped over the shackles and walked out of the cage, Dean reached for Sam's hand, threading his fingers through the vampire's... the other vampire's. His eyes met Sam's, and why he thought the look in Sam's eyes would have changed, he didn't know. But Sam was looking at him like he always did, in a way that left no doubt in his mind that he was wanted.

* * *

Over the next three weeks, Dean learned to control his hunger and to feed in the way of the Cullens. The compulsion to seek human blood was there, pulsing under the surface, but Dr. Carlisle had said he seemed to be lucky that it wasn't as strong as in most newly made vampires. Maybe it was the fact that Dean had spent nearly 30 years of his life protecting human blood, maybe that instinct had survived the transformation.

Hunting and feeding on animals, mostly deer, it hadn't been as hard as Dean had imagined. When that hunger for blood gnawed in the pit of his stomach, and in every cell in his body, when his hunger rose... nothing could stop him from tearing his meal to get to its life blood, nothing. Sam had taught him to feed before he was at the mercy of such hunger, it was safer that way, for others.

He and Sam had a lot of fun as he discovered his new strength and speed. They climbed trees and mountains and raced. They competed, and celebrated victory by fucking each others' brains out. If he hadn't had Sam, Dean thought he might go crazy... so many hours, none of them for sleeping. But Sam was always there to entertain, to teach, to love.

After he'd had a chance to threaten to kick Ros' ass for everything she'd put him through, they'd started to get along. It was weird, it was like he'd really gained a family overnight. That theory was proven right the night the Voltari arrived. They were men in fine suits who spoke in Italian accents and were arrogant as hell. They had powers, each of them different ones, from the ability to read minds to hurting you from a distance. The Cullens had congregated around him when the Voltari questioned him until they were satisfied that he would not bring any danger or reveal the existence of vampires. It was strange that they could read his emotions that accurately, but once Sam's brother Jasper came back from his trip, he started to get used to being read since Jasper had the power of reading and manipulating emotions. He understood now that the Voltari were very organized and would not allow any human, who had knowledge of the existence of vampires, to live. They also had no qualms about killing vampires, that's why he had been grilled on his intent.

Now that he was self sufficient, Dean knew it was time to leave. He loved Sam, he really did. But he couldn't lose his sense of self and he wanted to be sure Sam meant what he'd promised him. That he had a choice in his life, that he wasn't his prisoner. The truth was, without his family's help, Sam probably couldn't imprison him ever again, but Dean wanted him to 'let go'... which was a different ball game altogether.

Last night, when they'd been making love, Dean had made sure that the Sting album was playing. He'd felt Sam tense when he heard the words If you love someone, set them free. Knew Sam understood the time had come, and they'd made love that much the harder.

* * *

Sam walked to the door of his bedroom, gazing in at Dean for a long moment, leaning against the door jam, just silently standing there watching his mate. Tearing his gaze away, Sam hung his head, his dead heart aching. With a soft sigh, Sam pulled away from the door, raising his head, golden hazel meeting golden green. "I - I have something to show you," Sam told him, reaching a hand out, waiting for Dean to take it, so he could lead him outside to his car. Sam and Emmett had hidden it deep in the woods before. Now, Sam had pulled the Impala up to the front of the house where sat waiting in the driveway for Dean.

"Oh yeah, is it in your pants?" Dean grinned, giving Sam his hand, expecting a joke of some sort.

Sam gave a small sad smile, as he shook his head, pulling him from the room and down the stairs. Unable to speak and not knowing how to say 'goodbye'... words that hurt too much, he remained silent as they made their way to the door. Stepping out of the house, Sam stopped dead in his tracks as he nodded toward the car, his grasp on Dean's hand sliding away. As their eyes met, Sam tried to offer a small smile, but it was flat and sad. "Keeping my promise," Sam told him softly.

"My car! My bab--" Dean's gaze had flicked to the Impala, but was back and locked with Sam's, the sadness in Sam's eyes making him lose his enthusiasm. "It's my... my other baby," he told Sam, trying to tell him he still loved him. Each time he'd said the words, he'd sensed that Sam wasn't buying it. That he still maybe felt like he was being used as a ticket out or whatever. "Thanks for... for taking care of her."

Sam cleared his throat, nodding. "Of course," he gave a small tight smile, tearing his gaze away from Dean to look at the car a moment, before his gaze met Dean's again. "I'll miss you," he said softly.

"Me too." Dean opened his arms and hugged Sam tight, pulling him along as he walked backwards toward the car until his back was against it. "I'll miss you. Everything about you, Sam. Mostly miss the way you look at me, like I matter." His hand slipped up the side of Sam's neck to cup his cheek, his thumb brushing over Sam's lips. "I hope you know... you see that I look at you like that too."

Sam swallowed and hung his head a moment before raising it once more, "I know that that would make me very happy," he gave a small smile. It was the best he could offer. He wasn't going to allow himself to dare to believe otherwise. He'd learned the hard way before how very well the hunter, his mate, could lie, use him, hurt him. Sam raised a hand to cup Dean's face, thumb running along his cheekbone."Take good care of yourself, if -" he licked his lips, glancing toward the house, "if you ever need a family to come back to," he nodded, "we'll be here."

"Sam you have my number. I am not dropping off the face of the earth. I'm not dropping out of your life." What he saw mirrored back at him was only doubt. It made him angry, and sad, and he didn't understand it. Leaning in, he kissed Sam, almost savagely, trying to make him see, make him know the truth. Yeah he would miss him, miss his kisses, miss his company. God, he'd miss not feeling that certain look... the one that bordered on obsession, the one Dean loved to tease out of Sam, just by letting him get a glimps of something that would hold his attention, or by licking his lips too often. "Need you to believe in me," he said at last, pulling away, eyes stinging, which was ridiculous because he wasn't planning on being gone long.

Sam gave a small nod, taking a step back ward toward the house, his hand dropping away from Dean. "I'll," he hung his head then lifted it, jaw clenched as tears stung his eyes. "I'll see ya around then." He gave another nod, then turned on the balls of his feett toward the house. In the next breath, Sam was gone, the front door closing slowly behind him a few moments later.

* * *

Time passed slowly for Sam, each day seemed to drag by now that his mate was gone, never to return. He'd closed himself off from his family, barely speaking to any of them anymore as he sat up in his room. Everything that Dean had touched, each article of clothing, blanket, anything with his scent on it, Sam seemed to obsess on.

Walking through his room his fingertips trailed along his television set as he thought of Dean watching TV and laughing. A few moments later the TV lay in shambles on the floor of his bedroom, the pain too fresh, the sight of the television taunting, a haunting reminder of what he had lost, what he never really had.

A few days ago, when Sam had found the t-shirt that Dean had worn last missing from his room, he had torn through the house in search of it, tearing apart the place in the process. It had taken Jasper's calming abilities and Emmett holding Sam back to get him to stop wrecking the house. Finding that Esme had washed the shirt had Sam's knees buckling out from under him, his body slipping to the floor in defeat. Another part of Dean that he had lost. Something else he would never have back.

At twilight, Sam clung to the items that remained, curling in the blanket that Dean used, the one that he had bought for him. He laid out in the yard, fighting, fighting so hard against his nature, his need to go find his mate and force him back, to not care what promises he had made, only caring about easing the ache in his dead heart.

Finally, nearly three weeks later, the desire to track Dean down and bring him back had gotten so strong and Sam's emotions were in such turmoil that he had begged his family to lock him in the cage in the basement. There, curled on his side on the floor, the blanket wrapped around him, Sam gave himself over to the near madness that had set in.

* * *

In his time away from Sam, traveling across the country the way he used to, Dean learned a lot of things.

For one thing, he really wasn't human. While he could pretend and fool a lot of people, he couldn't fool hunters who'd known him. After having had to hurt three hunters, he stopped trying to look up old friends. He had to be dead to them, or he might be their death.

For another thing, he really was vampire. The words 'love' and 'mate' were different when applied to vampires, they had to be. He'd had girlfriends and had no trouble leaving 'em behind for weeks, he hadn't thought he would have this much trouble leaving Sam behind. Sure he'd expected he'd miss him. But missing him was one thing... missing him like a part of his body had been cut out, that was another.

A loneliness, one not born out of his inability to mix with hunters because he'd never really done much of that, haunted him. Every single day it ate at his soul, this deep seated need to see Sam, to hear his voice, to feel his hands on him, to breathe in his scent, to taste his lips, his skin, to prove to himself again and again that there was someone out there that belonged only to him. He'd been planning to be away for a month, and then to go back to forks, get a motel room, and then go in to see Sam. To try to maybe show Sam that they could go out, be a normal couple, with neither of them freaking out if the other wasn't around.

So much for plans. Three weeks later, he was pounding at the Cullen's front door and asking for Sam. When he was told Sam was in the basement, he felt a jealous burst of anger. Who else did Sam have down there?

He managed to beat down his emotions and headed to the door that took him down the stairs to where he'd had some of the worst and best moments of his life. "Sam?" When he approached the cage, he tried the door, then leaned his forehead against the bars.

"What are you doing in there. Sam?" He could see Sam curled up much the way Dean had been in that same spot, with a blanket on him. "C'mere."

Insanity. That's what it was, it was why he was hearing Dean's voice now, why he was smelling his phantom scent, why he was almost sure that if he opened his eyes, he would see Dean standing there. Sam huffed softly at himself. He would see Dean standing there only to have the image slowly dissolve away as it had hundreds of times before. As it did every time he stroked himself to completion, Dean's blanket thrown over his nose and mouth, inhaling his scent.

Sam's body moved slightly as he curled in on himself more, his grip on the blanket tightening. "S'not real," Sam whispered to himself, head shaking slightly, a soft wounded sound breaking from his throat, eyes squeezing shut more tightly.

Dean flashed back on images of Sam smelling the blanket, his shirt, sniffing it for his scent. Every muscle in his stomach tightened and his jeans started to feel too snug at his groin. "I smell better than that blanket. Taste better too, and I promise not to leave fuzz balls in your mouth," he said, voice a little hoarse. "C'mere, Sam."

Sam slowly turned his head, lashes fluttering. If the mirage was going to stand there taunting him, he might as well hurry up and look at it, so it could disappear and Sam could go back to his quiet nothingness again. Opening his eyes slowly, Sam's lips slowly curved into a smile as he looked at Dean. "Still so beautiful," he murmured softly, as a tear ran down his cheek, across the bridge of his nose, falling onto the blanket under his head.

"Still yours," he answered, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

A soft harsh chuckle broke from Sam's lips, before he rolled over onto his back, sniffling softly. "You're not real," Sam muttered quietly as he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Hurry up and disintegrate into nothingness for me, 'kay? This hurts too much."

"I'm real...come lemme show you," he looked around. "Where are the fucking keys? I'm real Sam, kiss me," he crouched down, putting his arm through the bars. "Take my hand, baby. Tell you what, you take my hand and I'll give you the best damned blow job you've ever had. All that time apart... I got all these ideas in my head."

Sam's eyes opened to stare at the hand that the illusionary image offered. Knowing it would simply break away and vanish as soon as he got close to it, but needing to try. Sam slowly raised a hand, reaching out toward Dean, too far away from the bars to completely grasp it. Fingertips brushed and slid together, curling around Dean's, holding. Sam sucked in a ragged breath, eyes widening as he rolled over onto his stomach, pulling up to his knees and one hand. Moving across the floor, Sam made his way over to the bars, his hand sliding more into Dean's as he moved, until they were holding hands fully and Sam's face was near the bars. He swallowed hard, eyes closing briefly, another tear sliding down his cheek, before Sam opened his eyes, golden hazel locking with golden green, "Dean?"

"I told you I'd be back." Dean's gaze moved hungrily over Sam's face. Pushing his other hand through the bars, he hooked his finger over Sam's collar, and dragged him up against the bars. Aiming carefully, he kissed away the tear, then slid his mouth over Sam's, tasting the salty tears, and Sam. God he'd missed him. Moving his hand through another bar, he cupped the back of Sam's head, moving his mouth back and forth. "Missed you... harder than I thought. Love you Sam, love you like whoa."

Yes, Dean had said he would be back, but Sam had never believed it. Had thought it was another lie in Dean's bid for freedom, had resigned himself to the fact. He would never see Dean again, and the fact had nearly killed him, or at least driven him mad. As Dean kissed away his tear and moved over his mouth, Sam gave a soft moan. His dead heart ached, but this time, it was almost a good ache. Joy at seeing his mate again so much that Sam had to fight back the need to shed more damn tears.

Sam chuckled through the emotions nearly choking him, his smile so wide that his dimples showed, love in his eyes as he looked at Dean. "Love me?" he sniffled, "yeah?" he reached through the bars, cupping Dean's neck and pulling him in to brush his lips across his mates once more. "God I've missed you so much." Sam whispered, breath fanning Dean's lips, the tender flesh of them brushing against Dean's as he spoke.

"Me too." He kissed Sam. "Know what you mean now. How it feels... when you have a mate... hurts to be alone," he nodded, kissing him again. "Don't want to leave you Sam, not ever. Not more than a few hours, maybe a day or so. Need you... in my life, every day." The words spilled from Dean's mouth far easier than he thought they would.

Sam sucked in a ragged breath, "Really?"

"Swear. I swear Sam." He stared intently into Sam's eyes. "Do I need to break you out of there?"

Sam's eyes widened, "No!" he blew out a breath, then smiled slightly, "I don't, uh, allow anything of yours to be broken or, um," he hung his head, looking slightly embarrassed, "washed." Sam gave a small cough, peeking up at Dean from under his brows. "Besides, it's pretty tough stuff, I don't know if you could break it actually," he pressed his lips together and raised his head, looking past Dean at the far wall, "the keys are hanging on the wall over there." Sam jutted his chin toward them, his gaze meeting Dean's again, "I had to lock myself in here so that I could keep my promise."

Dean swallowed. Sam was on the other side of those bars, reminding him of the time he'd asked how Sam would feel if their circumstances were reversed. "You're still obsessed." One hand gripping the bar, he closed his eyes. "Tell me why I find that so hot. I shouldn't."

Sam gave a small nod, "Guess so." He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Why shouldn't it be? You're thinking like a human again, not a vampire."

"Yeah..." Dean gave a shaky laugh and stepped away, returning with the key.

Sam pulled to his feet as he watched Dean walk across the room, then back.

A moment later, Dean had the door open and was stepping inside, head cocked to one side as he took the last step so their mouths slanted unerringly across each others'. This time there were no bars separating them and Dean took full advantage, pressing himself up against Sam's hard frame, hands on his hips, tongue desperately moving in and out of his lover's... his mate's... mouth.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, kissing him hard, giving as good as he got, moaning into the kiss, clinging to his love, his mate. Slowly pulling his head back, his nostrils flared as he at looked at Dean, smelling another's scent on him.

"We, you and I need to talk." Sam told Dean tightly, the scent coming from Dean making itself more and more a problem for Sam. Vampires were possessive, not liking anyone else to touch what was theirs. The fact that someone had, in fact, touched Dean in some way, was a problem. A very big problem.

"I figured there would be talking," Dean nodded, eyes locked with Sam's, a bit surprised they were gonna do this before they had welcome back sex. "I said we're together, I meant it. We'll figure out how... how its gonna work, but you promised freedom and I'm keeping that. I walk in and out like I want." He might love this vampire, and he might even find his obsession sexy, but he had to lay down ground rules for their future.

Sam nodded, "What I have to say has nothing to do with locked doors or guards... but it is..." Sam pressed his lips together eyeing Dean, "important. Very important," Sam told him, eyes slowly darkening, even as he stood gazing into Dean's eyes.

"Where do you want to talk?"

"My room," Sam nearly ground out as images of someone else touching what was his danced in his mind.

Dean licked his lips as he passed Sam, giving him a sidelong glance. "You alright? You seem a bit... tense. Look if it's about me leaving..."

Sam's narrowed eyes followed Dean. "This really should wait for my room."

Heading up the stairs and to the hall, Dean followed Sam to the stairs off the family room, leading to the bedrooms.

Sam motioned for Dean to lead the way up the stairs before looking back over his shoulder. "No one comes to my room until after tomorrow," Sam ground out, before following after Dean.

"What..." he turned back, but seeing the forbidding look on Sam's face and knowing how implacable he could be, Dean bit down on his questions and just marched up the stairs and into Sam's bedroom. Once inside, he went to lean against book shelf, trying to appear casual.

Sam entered his room closing and locking the door behind him before turning to look at Dean. He stood there for half a minute, then with vampire speed, was on Dean, slamming him back against the wall, his body pressed close, face inches away from Dean's as he breathed in deeply, nostrils flaring. "Who touched you?" Sam asked through gritted teeth, "And don't lie to me, I can smell their stink all over you."

Sure, Sam knew Dean was just as strong as he was, could fight back. But this wasn't about fighting, it wasn't about who was stronger, it was about a vampire and his mate and the possessiveness that ran through every vampire's veins. About Sam's need to know and to teach Dean who he belonged to.

"What?" Dean's eyes widened at the question from out of left field. Sam was crowding him, and there wasn't a hint of mirth in his expression. Sensing Sam's dangerous mood, he didn't shove him back or crack a joke. "I haven't been with anyone. I only thought about you, there's no one else for me now."

Sam snarled, eyes inky black, "I told you not to lie to me, someone touched you," he leaned his head in, his face against Dean's neck as he inhaled, "I can smell them," Sam grabbed Dean's wrists and raised them, pressing them against the wall as he inserted his thigh between Dean's and pressed in. "Who were they? What did they mean to you?" Sam demanded, breath fanning over the delicate skin of Dean's neck, tongue darting out to run slowly up against his skin.

"What the fuck, dude..." Dean held an unneeded breath as Sam's thigh brushed against his cock, then pressed. He searched his face again, trying to decide what the hell Sam was getting at. That predatory stance of his was starting to worry Dean a little, not to mention getting him hot at an inopportune moment. "I don't know what you're talking about, I just told you... I haven't fucking slept with anyone, okay?" The intensity of Sam's inspection was making him tense... like something was about to break, only he had no idea why. He pulled his wrists up from the wall, but let them bang back against it, "cut it out, Sam. We're not back there again. We're not playing prisoner and guard, not unless I say."

Sam pulled his head up, shaking it slowly. "Not prisoner, Dean, mate, you're mine and I don't like someone else's stink on you. I never said you slept with someone," Sam's expression went deadly as he spoke those words, before easing slightly. If Sam had thought that Dean had actually slept with someone else, all bets would be off and someone would be dying. "Someone touched you in some way...." Sam took a deep breath in again and bared his fangs, "And I'm gonna get their smell off of you."

"Touched me... Lots of people touch me, Sam," he leaned away from Sam's fangs. "You've got to be kidding me." He sucked his breath in as Sam leaned in even closer, his eyes glazed. "Sam?"

Sam's mouth descended on Dean's collarbone, as he tugged his shirts to the side, stretching the neck of the tee and making his over shirt nearly fall off a shoulder. His mouth latched onto the bone sucking and nipping gently, tongue running over the skin, then sucking hard again as a low growl sounding deep in his throat.

Despite the manhandling, a groan slipped out of Dean. "Sam..." he felt shaky on the inside, and it had nothing to do with any inability to stop his mate, if he wanted to.

Pulling his head up, Sam shook it slowly. "Not brushed you, not took something from your hand, had their arms on you, had their body pressed to yours, I can smell too much for it to be less." His lips curled baring fang, "DON'T," the single word was bit out harshly "ever do it again."

"I..." Dean jerked back slightly at the vehemence and threat in Sam's voice, searching his mind. Remembering, he let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Sam, an old friend... he just gave me a hug. You know, like this." Putting a now freed arm over Sam's shoulder, he slugged him on the back a couple times. "No bid deal... seriously overkill with the jealousy here. Guy's like eighty."

Sam's lips turned up into a smile, but it was a dangerous one. "Then you won't mind losing his scent," Sam told him, as he all but started to rip Dean's clothes from his body, tugging open the button of his jeans and parting the zipper, just by grabbing two sides of the denim and yanking. He moved his hand to pull Dean's over shirt down one arm, his tee up his chest as his hand on Dean's jeans made it's way under the denim and the cotton of Dean's boxers to cup him, slowly stroking as coal black eyes gazed into green.

"He didn't touch me there," Dean's head snapped back, partly from how quickly Sam moved to undress him and partly because of the sudden pleasure coursing through him. He gripped Sam's hips, biting his lip as Sam cupped and stroked him, quickly getting him hard and heavy. His breaths panted out, he watched Sam's face, knowing something was still going on behind that strong, handsome face... something that maybe he should be careful about. "Sam... oh fuck... Sam," he tugged him closer. Sam's eyes seemed glazed over, with that same obsessed look he got once in a while. "Don't be angry... I came back. I want only you, only you Sam."

Sam's lips turned upward a bit more, a small low snarl working out of him before he leaned in and slanted his mouth over Dean's kissing him hard, tongue delving deep into his mouth, mapping him out, tangling with Dean's then fucking his mouth with his tongue hard and fast, his body pressed up against Dean's as his hand stoked Dean under his boxers.

Pulling his head back, Sam leaned in, his lips at Dean's neck, slid slowly over the sensitive flesh, fangs dragging lightly. "That's what I'm gonna do to you now, what my tongue did to your mouth. I'm gonna fuck you and get rid of his stink from you. When I'm done," he pressed his lips to Dean's throat, "everyone, vampire and human, will know you're mine." Sam told him softly.

Dean was still reeling from the sensations sweeping his body, his mouth burning, his cock aching, need coiling low in his belly, when Sam made his pronouncement. His breath hitched. "I think they already know that, Sam," he said, swaying close. "Kiss me. Fuck me... like you did my mouth. I'm yours, I know that now. You know it too Sam." Licking his lips, he crushed them against Sam's, his arms closing around his lover's waist, holding him tight, rubbing against him.

Sam pulled his hand out of Dean's jeans as he moved to wrap his arms around him, one hand going to the back of Dean's head, the other flat and splayed in the center of Dean's back. He turned them and backed Dean toward the lounge, all the while they kissed hungrily, passionately, Sam's tongue plundering Dean's mouth, his fangs scraping the tender flesh of his lips.

When the back of Dean's legs hit the lounge, Sam pressed him back, going down with him, their lips parting as their controlled fall ended. Sam dipped his head, sucking the tender flesh of Dean's neck into his mouth hard enough to bruise as his teeth ached and blood pounded in his temples.

"Mmm, yeah..." Dean muttered, doing some exploring of his own, groping his lover, rubbing his mouth on him where he could, lifting his hips to get a bit of contact with his body. "Missed you... God Sam, I fuckin' missed you."

Pulling a hand out from under Dean, Sam shoved down on his jeans, wanting them off Dean, wanting him naked under him. His hand shoved at one side then the other as his other hand stayed, cupping the back of Dean's head, his lips at his throat, his neck, before finally, Sam pulled his other hand out and sat back, straddling Dean's thighs, pulling his jeans down as he backed up. "Off, now," he looked up at Dea., "Shirts too, take them off, I want you naked under me, want to feel you."

Protesting the sudden loss of Sam on top of him, Sam's words got through to him. "You too... naked," he demanded, pushing up on his elbows and peeling his shirt off, then tugging his tee up over his head. He was stripped in no time, and reaching for Sam, needing him.

They were both undressed in no time and Sam was already crawling up his body. "What was that you said about fucking me?" Dean asked, rubbing himself up against Sam, closing his arms around him, dragging him down. "Show me," he demanded, crushing his mouth against Sam's, pushing his tongue inside and reminding him exactly how he'd promised to fuck him.

Sam groaned deep in his throat as he kissed Dean, thrusting against him and making their cocks slide together, grinding against him as his hands slid down and up Dean's sides, then to went to each side of his face. He moved Dean's head from side to side, deepening the kiss, teeth clanking, fingers threading through Dean's short hair. At the kiss heated up, Sam reached for Dean's hands, lacing their fingers together. He tore his lips away from Dean's and started to kiss a trail down his jaw, his neck and chest, making his way slowly lower as he worked his mouth over Dean's flesh, giving open mouthed kissing, his tongue darting out to flick and lick at certain areas before going lower.

"Yeah... fuck yeah," Dean groaned, lifting his body first this way, then the other, pressing himself up against Sam's mouth. With each touch of his wet tongue and mouth, Sam left scorching trails down Dean's body. "Good Sam... so good," he muttered, moving his head from side to side. His fingers clenched and unclenched around Sam's. "Baby... missed this so fucking bad. Don't know what I did before you... just know, I can't live without this... without you..." When Sam's tongue dipped inside his belly button, that was it... Dean couldn't string any more words together.

Sam glanced up at Dean's face from under his brows, a small smile tugging at his lips as he sucked the tender flesh around Dean's belly button into his mouth. He slowly worked his way lower, sliding between Dean's legs, laying on his stomach as he wrapped his hand around Dean's hard cock and ran his tongue up the underside, then swirled it around his tip. Sam's teeth ached, his blood pounded in his temples, low groans broke from his throat as he lapped at Dean's cock, finally opening his mouth wide and taking him deep, curling his lips in over his teeth, careful to avoid contact with his fangs.

Dean moaned and writhed, reaching out, touching Sam everywhere he could as he was licked, and teased and touched until he thought he was going out of his mind with need. Sam played his body like an instrument, like he knew where all his sensitive spots were, and made sure to pay attention to them. By the time he got to his cock, Dean was a mess of nerves. "Oh God yeah," he lifted, fucking Sam's fist and rubbing himself harder against Sam's mouth.

Pulling his head back, Sam worked Dean's spit-slick cock with his hand as he kissed Dean's hip and groin, his thumb running across the sensitive tip of Dean's cock as Sam pressed his tongue to his balls, giving them as much attention as he could with his mouth while working his cock with his hand.

Dean was rock hard and hurting with need. His sense of smell was sharper, he could smell Sam... could smell his arousal, and it was killing him, making his temples pound. And his teeth... God ... they ached. "S... Sam... my fangs, they're..." before he could finish talking, the razor sharp teeth cut the corner of Sam's mouth and suddenly Dean had his hand behind Sam's head, aggressively holding him in place as he sucked the area free of blood and moaned with desire for more.

Sam's lips parted as he held still, letting Dean suck his lip free of blood, his breaths panted out, eyes open to mere slits as he looked at his mate a soft half chuckle working out of him as he smiled almost drunkenly. "So good, baby... So good..." Sam leaned in, crushing his mouth to Dean's, kissing him hard.

Pulling his head back, Sam leaned in once again, his mouth against Dean's throat, licking a path to his ear. "Bite me, s'okay," Sam told him softly before dipping his head and nipping Dean's neck, just enough to make blood pool to the surface before latching his mouth on and sucking the coppery crimson fluid away. Through it all, Sam's hand pumped Dean's cock mercilously, wrist pivoting. His own cock achingly hard, begged for attention.

An unholy groan broke from Dean as Sam drank from him, showing him this was normal, that it was good, that they could do this during sex... they never had before, but Sam had been sheltering him from blood when he'd first turned. Now he knew why. The scent of their blood was wreaking havoc with his senses, building his need, and he was so fucking confused about whether it was blood he was lusting after or Sam's body. He was thrusting mindlessly into Sam's fist, his mouth skimming the the side of Sam's neck, trying to decide what he wanted, where he needed to drink from.

Dean licked a path along Sam's collarbone, to his shoulder, pressing his fangs against it, piercing his flesh. Rivulets of coppery blood flowed down Sam's alabaster skin, with Dean moving his head to catch the flow, licking it clean and then sucking on the wound. His hands explored Sam's body, brushing over Sam's cock, then returning. He closed a fist around Sam's hard length and started to pump him, groaning when his lover got impossibly harder.

Sam's mouth tore from Dean's neck in an audible gasping of breath, a low long groan spilling from his lips at the feel of his love, his mate biting, drinking from him. "Oh God, s'hot, baby... feel so good..." Sam told him softly, hips bucking his aching erection into Dean's fist, his breaths panting air against Dean's throat, before Sam lowered his head once more, lapping at the crimson ribbons as they started to slide down Dean's smooth skin.

As bloodlust twined around his bodily needs, Dean closed his eyes and mindlessly thrust into Sam's fist, fucking it harder and harder, as his mouth stayed glued to Sam's shoulder. The lust for blood ... Sam's... was so strong, Dean wasn't sure he could control it. The more he coaxed out of the flesh wound, using his tongue and sucking, the more intense his need grew. Hot? He wanted hotter. Wanted an inferno. Would get it.

Growling, he reversed their positions so Sam was under him, mouth never leaving his shoulder, and not taking no for an answer. He pushed back onto his knees and he looked down at Sam, noting the heat in his lover's eyes, his gaze drawn by the sight of scarlet blood at the corner of his mouth and now on his shoulder. "Gonna mark you up," he said thickly, not knowing where those words ... where that need came from, only that it welled up inside him, and could not be fought.

Sam swallowed, teeth and cock aching. Eyes closing briefly, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, a low moan sounding deep in his throat at the taste of Dean's blood that remained. Eyes once more locking with Dean's, Sam gave a small nod, arching toward him, reaching for his love.

Lowering himself down over Sam, he pushed his hands away and dragged his razor sharp fangs across his chest, over his heart. He made another cut right below it, groaning at the sight of red over white skin. Smiling, but not 'quite there'... he lowered his head and started licking and sucking Sam's skin free of scarlet.

Sam's lips parted on a gasped sigh, panted breaths catching at the feel of Dean's fangs on his flesh, his mouth latching on, sucking, drinking his blood. Sam's hips bucked up, a low groan tearing from his throat, one hand reaching upward, digits sinking into the soft short strands of Dean's hair, tangling. "Mm, God, yeah..." Sam panted softly, breathlessly.

The motions of Sam's body under him renewed Dean's need. Pushing his knees under Sam's thighs spread wide, he started to fuck against him, thrusting, grinding their cocks together, feeding the flames of his desire, drinking Sam's sweet blood. Needing more, demanding it, he sank his teeth inside Sam's chest this time, lapping at him, wanting him with every cell in his body, his mind a red haze of erotic thoughts and images, drawing him deeper and deeper, until the world around him disappeared and he no longer knew even his own name. This was addiction. This was obsession. This was frenzy.

Sam's chest rose and fell with each breath, head rising from the pillows to lick at the already nearly healed wound at Dean's throat, sucking the flesh into his mouth, hips thrusting up against Dean's, low groans and moans breathing from his throat.

Wrapping his arms around Dean's body, Sam started to roll them, only to have Dean push back, halting his efforts. Sam wiggled under him, hips bucking, sliding against Dean, arching as he offered his blood a moment longer before once more struggling to roll them, a low groaned growl tearing from his throat. Pressing his body in between Dean's legs, he thrust hard against him, making their cocks slid together. Sam dipped his head, mouth slanting over Dean's, kissing him hard, hungrily. Moaning into the kiss as tongues tangled and teeth knocked together, his hands running along Dean's sides, across his flesh, fingertips digging into his flesh.

"Sonova..." Dean cursed as he found himself on his back, his mouth covered by Sam's... and away from his blood source. His temples were pounding with need, his eyes dark as night, a hunger was building inside him with the fury of a hundred storms. "Need. Sam. Need, now!" he managed, arching practically off the lounge as he bucked up against his lover, trying to get as close as he could.

Sam's lips slid down Dean's chin to his jaw, open mouthed kisses against his skin, dipping downward toward Dean's neck before Sam picked his head up, dark eyes gazing into dark. "Yeah, need you..." Sam told him, nodding slowly.

Pulling back, Sam kneeling between Dean's legs, hands running slowly down his thighs, his gaze still locked with Dean's before he tore it away and dipped his head, razer sharp fangs against the delicate skin between Dean's groin, thigh and hip as Sam held onto his hipbone, thumb rubbing small circles around the tender flesh as he ran his tongue along the thin line of scarlet, licking away the sting, the blood, lips closing over the wound, a low groan tearing from his throat.

Pulling back, Sam looked up into Dean's face, tongue darting out to lick his lips, "Roll over for me."

The sharp pain brought Dean back, and now the sight of Sam with lips painted with his blood almost had him coming right there. As he sat up, he licked Sam from his belly up to the wounds closing over his heart, kissing him... licking his own blood off Sam's lips, before doing as he asked. On his hands and knees, he pushed backwards, rubbing his ass over Sam's groin, giving a low moan as he felt how hard Sam was against his bare flesh.

Sam groaned as his hands found their way to Dean's hips, pulling him against him, his aching cock at the cleft of Dean's ass, sliding, nudging at his opening. Sam's head tilted back, lips parting on a moan as he teased them both. Slowly raising his head, Sam moved one hand to his own cock, pumping himself a few times, before aligning the blunt tip up with Dean's tight hole and thrusting in deep in one stroke. "Naauugh! Fuck!" Sam panted in a few breaths, head hanging, "So tight, baby... so good..." he told Dean breathlessly, leaning over him, forehead nearly against Dean's back, long bangs tickling his skin.

Blinding pain had Dean grunting, arms almost buckling under his weight. And then he held still, adjusting to having Sam buried to the hilt inside him, splitting him, filling him up. He screwing his eyes shut, he clenched around Sam's thick cock, sensing how badly his lover want to fuck, how much control it took for him to simply wait. He swallowed, "yeah ... good... go." He pulled forward slightly, then slammed back against Sam, his head rearing up, "Go! Fuck me!"

Sam moved his hand back to Dean's hip as he pulled his head up, both hands grasping the flesh near Dean's hipbones in a bruising grip as Sam pulled his hips back, pulling nearly out of Dean, then slamming back in, and repeating. After a moment, Sam got a rhythm going as he leaned over Dean, one hand sliding off Dean's hip, reaching around him to wrap around Dean's cock, stroking him in time with his movements. "S'good, baby..." Sam told him breathlessly against Dean's neck, mouth opening to suck the tender flesh into his mouth hard, teeth scraping.

As Sam took complete control, invading him again and again, blanketing him completely and claiming him as his, Dean whimpered his pleasure. He loved that Sam didn't hesitate... that he was so fucking confident... decisive. The way Sam surged into him, over and over, making him burn and ache, branding him with that powerful body of his, with each stroke letting Dean know the extent of his hunger, making him understand what it meant to be 'taken.' There was no doubt about it, Sam was taking him, claiming him, and Dean fucking liked it. "Yeah... yeah baby, more, more," he cried out, fucking Sam's fist, and turning his head, trying to kiss his lover.

Sam closed his eyes tight as he buried his face against Dean's neck, thrusting hard into him. Pulling his head back as Dean turned, he kissed Dean back, tongues tangling outside of their mouths, miss hitting, then lips messily connecting with lips as their tongues dueled. Each of Sam's moans and groans were swallowed up in their kisses as they devoured one another.

Moving his free hand, wrapping an arm around Dean, Sam pulled them back so that Dean was nearly sitting on his lap as he fucked up into him, his hand never losing it's rhythm on Dean's cock.

Leaning back against Sam's chest, Dean reached behind him, hand sliding up and down Sam's side, fingers biting into his flesh each time Sam slammed into him. "Fuck... fuck... fuck... so good," he chanted, raising and lower his body, using his weight to come down over Sam's rock hard cock, clenching to give his lover maximum pressure. His movements started growing wilder, his kisses messier, the pressure building low in his belly. He started gyrating his hips in circles, grinding down over Sam, sounds breaking from the back of his throat, swallowed by Sam's mouth. So hot... it was so fucking hot.

Sam thrust his hips harder, driving his cock deeper inside Dean with each thrust, there was no doubt, if Dean wasn't changed into a vampire, he'd be feeling this for a while. Gritting his teeth, Sam groaned as his head fell back, lips parting as he panted out his breaths.

Dean groaned with pleasure and pain, but refused to ask him to gentle his movements. Sam could be all predator, and maybe it was masochistic or something, but it turned Dean on, knowing Sam wanted him that bad. He clenched around Sam's cock, rolling his head back as Sam filled him again and again, branding him from the inside. "Good... good... oh God..." White hot heat lanced through Dean. "Ungh.... Sam.... please. Oh God..."

Sam squeezed his eyes closed as heat spiraled through him to settle low in his belly, his orgasm drawing close, so fucking close. Sam chased it with hard thrusts, growling low in his throat. "Oh God... Dean..." His head lowered, leaning in he kissed Dean's lips messily, his cheeks, his jaw, before biting his own lip as his balls drew up tight, "Oh fuck! Dean!" Sam's body tensed as his thrusts became erratic. His breath left him in a growled gasp as he started to cum hot and hard, filling Dean's ass. "Oh God.... oh fuck... baby, so good..." his breaths panted out like he were human, like he'd over exerted himself running, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Body locked with Sam's, moving as wildly as his lover clenching his ass, gripping... tightening around Sam's thick hardness, surrounded by him, by his scent, by his labored breaths, Dean arched back against him. Sam's name suddenly tore from the back of his throat, his only warning as he threw his head back, and kept fucking into his lovers fist. Liquid heat splattered against his stomach, smearing and coating Sam's hand as Dean came so fucking hard he thought he might die.

Sam's head fell forward, lips brushing against Dean's shoulder as he sighed softly, "S' good. Missed you so much."

"Me too, Sam. Me too." Swallowing, he rested a while like that, then slowly pulled up off Sam's lap and kneeling in front of him, closed his arms around Sam, pulling him flush against his body and kissing him softly, with all the love in his heart. "I think we need a bed in here. If... you know, I'm moving in. Just need a corner of your closet for my stuff," he chuckled, but was a little nervous.

Sam drew his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked at Dean, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile that showed his dimples. Releasing his lip, Sam licked them, "Yeah?" Sam asked, daring to hope, to believe.

Wrapping his arms around Dean, he nodded, "You can have anything you want. Bed, closet, my tub with bubbles," he smirked softly, "whatever you want," Sam repeated, voice soft.

"Tub with bubbles, that clinches the deal," Dean grinned, kissing him again lightly. "Oh... I need you to promise me one thing."

Sam raised his brows, "What's that?"

"Mind blowing sex every time I touch someone." His eyes were filled with mischief. "I hear there are a lot of people in town who like to give hugs."

Sam's entire body went rigid, eyes narrowing. "I wouldn't do that. I'm very possessive," he told Dean, a warning in his tone, "But," he continued more lightheartedly, "I can see about the 'mind blowing sex' part."

"I'm counting on it." Wrestling Sam down to the lounge, he started to maul him. "Best thing about being a vampire? No waiting... we got three weeks to make up for, now... get it up," he said, his hand cupping Sam's cock as he lowered his mouth over his mate's.

Sam arched his hips up into Dean's hand a low groan spilling from his lips. "I would say that I had created a monster, but it's likely a tad too cliche." Sam tried to joke, before he was gritting his teeth against a loud low groan, hips bucking, body squirming under Dean's. "Holy fuck..."

* * *

[One Month Later]

Dean couldn't believe Sam had dragged him to a fucking play. But here he was, at a cultural event, in the heart of Seattle, dressed in a tailored black suit that put all of the suits he'd ever worn as part of his disguises to shame. Not that he thought that the money Sam spent on the suit was worth it. Still, he did look damned good in it, if the way Sam kept looking at him was something to go on.

The lights had come on for intermission and they were now in the large bar area in the foyer, for a short interval. Well he was all for drinking and had ordered a beer even though most people were holding wine glasses in their hands. "I never thought there would be naked people in a play," he told Sam. His idea of plays had been stuffy old stories, or sappy musicals. This was 'almost' porn, even if the audience wanted to make it seem like 'literature.' Literature his ass.

Sam smiled at him, as he stood holding onto a glass of champagne which he wouldn't drink. "See what you've been missing?" he winked at him.

Dean chuckled, raised the bottle and took a sip. It was foul, but he was gonna damned well get used to it. Just like he was gonna learn to like pie again. Those were two things he wouldn't give up for anything. "With you in my bed... I don't think I'm missing anything." He let his gaze travel down the length of Sam's body, swallowing hard as he wondered if he'd ever get tired of making love to a single lover. No... he knew the answer in his heart, it was just that he had trouble understanding how he could want one person so damned much. "Can we fuck in the woods again?" he asked, so low that no one else would hear them. "I want it up against a tree."

Sam chuckled, and managed to look slightly embarrassed. "I," he licked his lips, "hadn't been exactly planning on the last time, but," he smirked, "weather permitting, so certain things aren't glitteringly obvious, I'd like that," he told Dean as he took a step closer and leaned in like he was whispering a secret, only to run his tongue along Dean's neck instead.

A sound welled up in Dean's throat. "I meant on the way home," he whispered, closing his eyes. He wanted to kiss Sam, but his lover pulled away, and Dean realized this wasn't really the place for it even if for years he'd said the only men that went to plays were gay. Okay that was a brain teaser he wasn't gonna try to unravel.

They chatted a while, then a well dressed woman in 'come fuck me' heels walked over to them. "Where do I know you from?" she asked him.

Dean cocked his head, looking her over. "I think you got the wrong guy."

Sam's attention was suddenly laser focused on the woman talking to his mate, his smile having fallen competley away, his eyes narrowing and darkening as he watched her.

"Oh come on now, I know I know you. Muscular, handsome," she reached a hand out to run up Dean's arm, "well dressed," she pressed her lips together as though in thought as she tilted her head, eyeing Dean.

A low growl sounded deep in Sam's throat.

"All that, huh?" Dean grinned, "I still don't think we've met, I'd remember. I have a good memory." To head off any additional snarling, he introduced his lover. "This is Sam, I'm Dean, and you are...?"

"Free after the play." She told Dean with an unmistakable look in her eyes as she let her gaze travel up and down his form.

Sam stepped forward, reaching a hand out to place on the woman's shoulder as he backed her away from Dean, and into a corner before he dropped his hand away. "He says he doesn't know you, now get lost." Sam growled, nearly snarling, his eyes an inky black. He flashed his fangs at her for good measure, before turning around to face Dean. "Don't, say anything," Sam told him, eyes narrowed.

Dean, who'd followed and was about to ask Sam to calm the hell down, dropped the hand he'd reached out with. Looking at the woman, he gestured with his head for her to leave. Then the lights were blinking, and people started to head back inside. Still Dean's eyes were locked with Sam's. "That was a little...over-reacty, Sam."

Sam's jaw was clenched as he looked at Dean. "No, a little over-reacty would have been had I drained her dry like I thought about doing," he answered, his voice low.

"She was harmless. Not like I would have gone anywhere with her, and you fucking know that." Though he was asking Sam to be reasonable, Dean couldn't help the slight elation he felt at Sam's possessiveness.

Sam shook his head slightly before he leaned in again and kissed Dean's neck, "Not the point. She was addressing what is mine," he pulled his head back, "in a manner I did not like. Think if it were reversed, how would you feel?"

He shivered slightly, wishing they were somewhere else. "I'm a confident man," Dean said nodding. "I know you're mine, just as much as I'm yours and there's nothing she could do to take you from me." Dean shrugged, "so I wouldn't care... I know who you're walking out those doors with."

A bell sounded, and it was the last call to get inside. They started to walk with some of the stragglers when a guy obviously checked out Sam's ass. Pushing Sam along, Dean made sure to stand right behind him and block the idiot's view. "Hurry, before it fucking starts," was all he said to Sam, his voice tight, as if his temper was barely reined in.

Sam glanced back at Dean and quirked a bro., "What? So now you like plays?" the corners of his lips quirking upward into an almost smile, as some of the tension from earlier left him. "And why are you walking back there?" Sam asked him, reaching a hand up to grab Dean and pull him up next to him.

"Because your ass is mine, only mine, that's why. Now shut up and walk." He glared at Sam, knowing what the other vampire was getting at. "I didn't show him my teeth."

Sam smirked and nodded, "Uh-huh, only because he didn't offer to polish my ass."

Dean's eyes darkened to inky black. Lips pressed together at that thought, he closed his hand around Sam's and tugged him to their seats. "Quiet, people are watching," he hissed as he sat down, daring Sam to say more.

Sam smiled at him. "I love you too," he whispered. Waiting until the lights lowered, Sam leaned in and brushed his lips across Dean's. "You're sexy when your jealous," he teased, winking at him, knowing Dean could see him clearly even in the near dark, before he turned his attention to the stage and the play, his hand resting near Dean's, their fingers overlapping.

THE END

(So... should we try for one more Twilight Xover or is this enough? And if yes, which of the boys should be the vamp?)

The Other Side Of Thanksgiving, 2/3 [NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-11-24T17:04:03Z

The Other Side Of Thanksgiving, 1/3 [NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-11-23T21:26:27Z

Master Post: The Other Side Of Thanksgiving, [NC-17] Dean/Sam AU

2009-11-23T21:22:03Z

Dragon Spell 2/? [NC-17] Dean/Sam, SPN Xover Dragonriders of Pern

2009-11-22T07:48:12Z

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Title: Dragon Spell
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) & brimstonegold
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: SPN X-over Dragonriders of Pern (by Ann McCaffrey)
Ratings/Warnings: NC 17,some non-con/rape, hurt/comfort, fantasy world, Wincest/incest
Summary: Snooping around in his father's storage locker, Sam touches something he shouldn't and gets sucked into a world where dragonriders must protect their world from a continuous threat of threafall. Dean follows and finds Sam has lost his memories. Until they get out of this mess, they have to ‘make like the natives.’

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

Sam could only gape at Giles when the steward told him he wasn't allowed to leave the Hold. He bit back his fury. Serance thought he would be able to keep him here? No. He would do his assigned job for the day, then this very eve he would take his backpack and slip out the door. He would travel well up the coast, find a decent cave, hopefully with a tidal pool, and live there for a while. Then he would work his way back and wait for the traders. When the traders were leaving, he would offer labor in exchange for joining them.

That was his plan, especially seeing as how a kitchen drudge had seen Deanie. He knew it wouldn't take long for word to get around. And it didn't. That evening he was forced to have dinner with everyone else. He heard the whispers and saw the looks. He would not bring Deanie out and confirm a scorched thing for them. He felt Serance's eyes on him and tried to keep his attention focused on his meal. As soon as he had eaten, he returned to his room. The others could do the cleanup. It wasn't his job even though he had often helped in the past. Tonight he needed to make sure he had everything he needed and maybe even get a few hours of sleep. He hadn't gotten much the night before.

He hadn't been in his room long when the door opened without even a warning knock. The reeds filled with salt at the doorway were scattered aside. Deanie popped between instantly, but they had seen the fire lizard, Sam was certain. This time he fought. He was not going to let Serance have another chance at him. The guards were ill-prepared for Sam's strength and fighting skills, and even less prepared for a fire lizard diving at them and raking them with its claws.

There were four of them though and they used Sam's severely scored back to their advantage and before long, they had subdued the young man. Sam ordered Deanie away. The guards dragged Sam to the library. It was but a small consolation to Sam that it wasn't Serance's private quarters.

The guards bound his arms to the chair and his ankles to the chair legs. One guard stayed in the room, ensuring he didn't try to escape. Time ticked by and even with his aching back, Sam found himself drowsing off.

The boots of the Lord Holder's son rang loudly, echoing in the hall as Serance reached the library and pushed the doors open. His lips twisted into a thin smile at the sight of Sam sitting in a chair, his wrists bound to the arms. "You must have enjoyed your last punishment." He dismissed the guard and shut the heavy doors with finality.

Serance's voice startled Sam instantly awake. It was just him and Serance now.

"You think silence will aid your cause?" Serance asked, his voice as hard as the flint-like glint in his eyes.

Sam stared a moment at the Lord Holder's son. There was nothing he could do. Serance could do what he wanted; it wasn't as if Sam could really do anything to stop him, just as the night before. As soon as he was free, he was gone. He didn't have to have anything out of his quarters. The things he packed would have helped, but he knew he could survive. He turned his head and stared into the shadows of the library. He knew nothing he could say would make any difference and he was not going to give the man the pleasure of any respect, any begging, or any screams. This was no longer his hold as far as he was concerned. It was his temporary prison and Serance was no longer his Lord.

"Ah... So you still think you're better than everyone else." Angry steps ate up the distance between them and Serance used the gloves clutched in his hand to slap Sam across the face. "You are a parentless drudge. You will always be a drudge, and keeping a stolen fire lizard will not change your status," he snarled, slapping him the other way. "Do you know I can have you put in a holding box for months for [i]theft[/i]? Out in the sun, in a small space... it's no more than you deserve."

The slaps stung but little more. Serance's threat was real and he knew it. He also knew if that were to happen, Deanie would bring him food and probably find a way to bring him water, and keep him company. They would have to let him out eventually. Who knew, maybe Deanie could find someone who would help Sam. The young man met the Holder's son's gaze coolly and lifted his chin defiantly, but he still remained silent. He decided then that he might not be better than everyone in the Hold, but he was better than the arrogant bastard before him.

"Ahhh... you're one of [i]those[/i]," Serance said, eyes growing a little wild. "You enjoy punishment. You goad me to it... I understand," he nodded, speaking softly, almost gently.

Sam almost snorted. Yeah. He loved having his back turned into ground meat. It was on his list of things to do at least once a week.

"I know a little something about needs like that. We might make a perfect pair..."

It didn't surprise Sam that Serance enjoyed punishing people. He had always had a harsh hand, one that had grown harsher since his father had become bedridden. Never mind the whispers that the illness was inexplicable and came over the older man only once Serance was of age to become Lord Holder.

Leaning down, Serance slanted his mouth over Sam's, kissing him softly, then snapping, "open your mouth for me. Now."

The kiss almost startled Sam and probably would have if not for the night before. It had surprised him then and that was, in part, why the man had gotten his tongue inside Sam's mouth. Not this time, though. At Serance's demand he continued to look ahead and clenched his jaw tight. He briefly considered doing just what the man ordered and biting the bastard's tongue off.

"Fecking piece of dung!" Serance gripped Sam's jaw with one hand, and pinched his nose with the other.

Serance's finger's were gripping his jaw so tightly Sam was certain there would be bruises. He kept his jaw clenched but parted his lips, his breath whispering through his teeth.

Serance brought his mouth crushing down over Sam's again.

Sam tried to pull away and couldn't and couldn't even steal breath from Serance's mouth. When he had no choice, he finally opened his mouth.

Immediately, Serance pushed his tongue deep inside the drudge's mouth... it was as hot and good as he remembered.

With Serance's lips fastened over his own, he expected Serance to relent and let him breathe, but the man didn't. The man's fingers continued to dig into his jaw and any thought of trying to bite Serance's tongue was lost as he grew a little light-headed from lack of oxygen and struggled to try to break free so he could breathe.

Even when he felt Sam thrashing, he didn't release his nose, kissing him harder... so hard he tasted blood but didn't know whose it was. Yes Sam was his... he belonged to Serance... to do with as he wished.

Groaning a little and tasting his own blood from the brutality of the kiss, Sam gave Serance what he knew the man wanted, tangling his tongue with Serance's own. Anything to return the breath to his lungs. Finally the man released his nose, Serance's hand cupping the back of his head, keeping their mouth pressed together. Sam’s brief attempt to close his jaw again resulted in a tighter grip and nails digging into his skin. Hating that he had no choice, he accepted the deep kiss and stopped fighting, letting the man's foul tongue roam freely and unthreatened in his mouth. He gave only what response he had to.

Blood pounded at Serance's temples as he got what he wanted, the way he wanted it, his way. His heart beat like drums in a distance, he could barely hear over the sound. Digging his thumb into Sam's cheek, he caught the sound of a pained groan that had him instantly hard and heavy between his legs. He gripped a handful of Sam's hair, tugging it hard as he broke the kiss and stared into his face to see rebellion in those hazel eyes. "I will break you," he promised. "You're mine to do with as I will... and I will break you."

As painful as the grip in his hair was, the pressure of the chair against his back, his bruised and bleeding lips, Sam refused to let the man bait him. No, he would keep his silence. It seemed to upset the man that Sam wouldn't speak and he remembered how he had begged the night prior. That would never happen again, he vowed. He would never give that man that type of pleasure again.

Images of using the antechamber to his bedroom, leaving Sam tied to the bed there, to be used whenever he had a need to slake his lust... they brought a cruel smile to Serance's face. It would come to pass... it would.

He straddled Sam's thighs, sat and ground his hips forward, careless of the fact that his heavy belt and attachments would scrape and injure the drudge through the thin material of his tunic. "Soon you will know your true calling."

Trying to hide his wince, Sam inhaled sharply as the man's belt dug into his flesh. Just like last night, the proof of Serance's obvious desire was pressed against him. He was glad about the pain the belt inflicted. Last night his own flesh had betrayed him, finding arousal as the Lord Holder's son rutted against him. The pain now precluded that possibility, at least, Sam hoped it did. If Serance managed to draw any hint of arousal, no matter how unwanted, Sam knew he would never have peace. He might was well just go to the man's room, be put in chains, bend over, and let Serance at him.

Panting out his breaths, Serance cupped Sam's jaw again and dragged him close for another brutal kiss. The drudge needed to learn who his master was, and Serance was more than pleased to teach him.

Sam fought against the man, trying to pull away, but Serance dug his fingers into Sam's injured back and Sam gasped arching forward. That movement not only pressed his lips into the man's but his mouth was open and he felt the man's tongue dive back in.

Heavy knocks on the door and calls of "Lord Serance" brought Serance out of the grips of lust. "Do not think to leave," he told Sam, giving him a warning look, before standing and straightening his clothes. He proudly stared at the damage to Sam's bruised and swollen lips. "My mark suits you," he said gruffly, turning on his heels and walking out the door, ordering that no one enter the library.

Flanked by several of his men, Serance strode down the hallway listening to their reports that dragonriders approached on a search.

"They have asked that all our youth, including women, be brought to the courtyard."

Dragons trumpeting from far above the hold, announcing their presence, raised Serance's hackles. "Parasites. And now they want the best of our workers. And why females? I hear there are no gold eggs in the clutch."

"It is a small clutch. Some say 'sickly.' They want the best of the best to try to repopulate," the man shrugged. The affairs of dragonriders were a mystery. Since the Lord Serance had begun to take over the master's functions, the hold had sent the worst of their crops and industry as their required tithe to the dragonriders at Ista weyr. There was no great love between the hold and the weyr.

Outside, the courtyard had started to fill with people. Several dragons flew in the skies, watching closely. Two dragons walked freely in the courtyard, scaring the holdfolk away, while their riders came to meet with Serance.

Weyrleader K'tol and one of his wingmen, M'rim, approached Lord Serance. K'tol despised the young son of the Lord holder and knew the feeling was mutual. The tithe from the Hold to support the Weyr had declined in quality to the point K'tol was ready to have a 'discussion' about the situation. The Lord Holder was quite ill from what he had heard or he would demand a meeting with the Lord. With the clutch not far off from hatching, he had decided on a different plan of action though. Let Serance get a taste of his own medicine.

"We've come to collect candidates for the hatching. We need the best and strongest if we have any hopes of keeping enough dragons in the sky to protect Ista Hold. Nimarath, my bronze, is quite adamant that the old blood runs strong in you. You, Lord Serance, have been selected as a strong candidate."

"What?!" Serance's eyebrows drew together in fury. "You shall have to select again. I have obligations, a hold to run, I will not waste my time on this. If you want to choose... choose," he pointed at the people crowding the courtyard, some with hopeful expressions and others trying to make themselves invisible.

"You know our ways, and this hold has always held with tradition," M'rim said, glancing over at K'tol, before looking back at the unpleasant young man. "Your father is Lord of the hold..."

"And I inherit after him. I am exempt," Serance snarled. "Or have YOU forgotten the rules?"

K'tol smiled patiently at Serance. "You would be exempt if there were no other children of the Lord Holder. Seeing as how Guran is in fine health, the Hold would fall to him if you impressed a dragon. If a dragon chooses you, you might one day end up Weyrleader, a title much more befitting a man with such strong old blood running through his veins."

K'tol hoped that once Guran, a bastard son, but one much more reasonable and respectful of the dragonriders, was placed in charge, Serance might well find it hard to wrest control back when he returned dragonless. He had heard many of the hold found Serance's ways as unpleasant as he did, and the man was not well liked. Once he gained control, perhaps the people would back Guran against Serance. Or just maybe Serance might get trampled as dragonets hunted for suitable candidates. He had no doubt Serance would be right up front trying for a dragon and if that hateful young man impressed, K'tol would eat his gloves.

Serance flushed to a dark color. How dare the man bring up his bastard brother? "My father chose me. Me. You have no right..." Neither of the dragonriders blinked. They merely stared at him with their cool gazes as their dragons seemed to get restless and move towards them. A muscle pulsed in Serance's jaw. If he refused, they would draw on him but he was quite good with the sword as they would discover.

A second story window opened, and his father was wheeled to it. The Lord Holder's voice was weak, but the courtyard had gone silent so he could be heard. "You will go with them, Serance. It is your obligation to Pern."

Hatred filled Serance's eyes. He should have snuffed out his father's life... he should have... Feeling someone grab his arm, he wrenched it away and walked toward the group of men and boys that had been selected as they were speaking. No matter, he wouldn't impress, and then he'd be back. His father would soon be gone, and his Sam... fecking hell, he regretted now that he had yet to bend him over a table. If any touched him in his absence...

The dragonriders dismissed those in the courtyard not selected, and other dragons set down one by one, collecting the candidates that would be taken to the weyr.

As soon as the library door shut, Sam called for Deanie. The young fire lizard immediately appeared and began tearing at the leather bonds imprisoning his impressed. As soon as Deanie had gotten his one hand free Sam went to work on the rest of the bonds. "We're leaving Deanie. Now."

Sam crept to the library door and cracked it open. There were no guards. Should he go for his pack? No, he decided. Who knew what had drawn the Lord Holder's son away and how soon he would be back. Best Sam run and run now while he had the chance. The best escape route would be through the east side. It would take him through a few halls with quarters. Maybe he could snag a thing or two, and then he would pass by the kitchen. He could grab a couple knives and a few water skins and maybe a few dishes. That would do.

He was surprised to find the halls empty but when he heard the trumpeting of the dragons, he assumed most of his fellow holders were out in the courtyard. He always loved watching the dragons. He had never gotten to see one up close and now probably never would, but that was okay. He had his Deanie and that was plenty enough dragon for him.

With everyone otherwise occupied, Sam slipped into the quarters of a man he knew was about his size. He stripped the blanket from the bed, tossed in two shirts hanging on hooks, one pair of pants and some rope. He didn't have time to rummage so was back out the door in practically just a breath or two. With no one in the halls, he ran to the kitchen. It was empty and he smiled at his good fortune. He snatched up a couple knives and eating utensils, a couple loaves of bread, a pot, cup and plate, two water skins, some dried meat for himself, and a small haunch of meat he could feed Deanie. He twisted the blanket closed and used a piece of rope to tie it shut and was out the east exit like a shot. He set a good pace for the distant tree line, Deanie flying excitedly around him.

M'rim was about to mount his dragon when said dragon started to turn its great head in the opposite direction. A low rumbling sound came from him. One hand on the great beast, M'rim walked alongside the dragon, listening to its mental thoughts. "Over there," he shouted at a few dragonriders who were coming back from searching one of the guilds for candidates.

The two men ran scanning the area and saw a youth with a fire lizard. They caught up with the surprised young man, grabbing him by the arms. "Hold still," one of the men told him firmly.

Sam wrenched himself free of the hands that had grabbed him. He was not going back to Serance. It took him a moment to realize they weren't guards but dragonriders. He watched them suspiciously and backed out of their reach. Deanie had landed on his shoulder, wrapped his tail around Sam's neck and hissed at the men threateningly.

M'rim walked quickly to them. "What have we here?" A smile crossed his features when he saw the boy who was surely less than twenty-five turns carrying a prized lizard. If he'd impressed a cousin of the dragons...

{{I am no cousin to a lizard}} M'rim's dragon was quick to remind him M’rim in silent words that only his rider could hear.

"You. What's your name?"

Sam measured the dragonrider. "I'm not going back to the Hold," he said firmly, his eyes narrowing as he took a step back. Serance didn't like the weyr but he certainly wouldn't be above using them to go after Sam and Sam knew it. His makeshift bag of supplies would make an adequate weapon to knock at least one of the men flat. He had no idea if he could make the tree line before the dragons caught up with him, but he would try.

"No, no you're not," the dragonrider agreed. "You weren't in the courtyard with the others. Why?" His gaze slid over the man's injured face, a frown forming on his forehead.

Brow furrowing, he was a little surprised by the dragonrider's words that he wasn't going to take Sam back and not sure he really believed the man. Sam debated a moment then said, "I was being punished because I'd impressed Deanie and because I was 'stealing' meat for him from the kitchen. Deanie cut me loose and I intend to stay free. I'll survive holdless. Unless one of you wants to fly me to the Mainland, just leave me be. Deanie and I will do just fine on our own."

M'rim's smile widened, as did that of the other men. If this youth showed such loyalty to a fire lizard, he had great prospects at becoming a dragonrider. "No need for you to go holdless, not without first trying your luck. Tell me, how would you feel about being one of us, a dragonrider?" he asked, chest puffing out slightly. "A clutch is about to hatch and we are on a search. Power runs through your veins, my dragon senses it."

Sam's eyes slid to the nearby dragon. That would certainly make Serance think twice about going after him. And he could fly anywhere he wanted, do anything he wanted. The thought of being a dragonrider! Wouldn't his mother and father be so proud! But he wouldn't let the dragonriders know how much the idea meant to him. Whenever anyone discovered how much something, anything, meant to him, Serance found out and it was summarily taken away. If he wasn't so damned good at hunting for herbs and such, long ago Giles would have been told not to let him do it.

His gaze flicked back to the man. "One condition. If I don't get a dragon, you take me to the Mainland and put me down whereever I want, and no one in Ista ever learns where that was. Otherwise? Not interested."

Taking his measure, M'rim nodded. "Done."

Sam hesitated, then gave a curt nod. "Okay." He calmed his hissing fire lizard with a thought, but the lizard kept its tail wrapped firmly around Sam's neck.

Now this one... this one, he had high hopes for. "Go with Toth," M'rim pointed, watching with even more approval as Sam exhibited no fear upon approaching the dragon and mounted the large creature.

Once Sam settled himself with his bags of things in his lap, he couldn't help but reach up and stroke the dragon's neck. It's skin was so like Deanie's and yet so different. After petting the dragon once he reached up and rubbed his fire lizard's cheek. He was actually getting away from Serance! That thought made him not just smile, but flat out grin.

W'tal and his dragon Toth took Sam to the weyr, flying the short distance rather than ‘going between’ since Sam was not dressed for the cold of between. When Sam climbed down from the dragon's back, he stumbled a little and gave a small strangled gasp as the material of his shirt pulled across his badly scored back. Deanie flew around him worriedly, chirruping. Sam shushed the fire lizard and forced himself to try to ignore the pain.

The headwoman showed Sam to a room that had bunk beds. "Choose any one that doesn't have a candidate's personal belongings on it," she said. Then she gave him the meal schedule and told him that for the time he was here at the weyr, waiting for the hatching, he would be expected to take instructions with the rest of the candidates. The old ballads had to be memorized, history had to be learned. "If you're lucky enough to impress, you'll have your own weyr. And if not..." she shrugged her slim shoulders, "they will either take you back or if you want to stay, we'll have to find work for you." Some were 'professional' candidates, having gone through many turns of hatchings without impressing.

Sam nodded his understanding and scanned the empty room as the headwoman left to tend to other duties. He found a lower bunk in the corner that had not been claimed. All the bunks were too short for his long frame and while he would prefer an upper bunk, it would be easier to locate something like a table he could simply sit it at the end of his bed to rest his feet on if he wanted to stretch out. He set his bag of belongings on the bed. It wasn't even his stuff and he suddenly wished he had gone for his backpack. Maybe he could ask for someone to bring him his pack?

He was startled when Deanie suddenly popped in and dropped Sam's mug on the bed. He was gone again and back almost immediately with Sam's knife. Deanie popped back and forth until the final trip which he brought the backpack that held the two jars, one of numbweed and one of oil, as well as a vial of ink. Deanie collapsed onto the bed, obviously exhausted with the effort. The fire lizard chirped almost scoldingly at him as if to tell him next time not to leave things behind.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll be more careful," he said, laughing softly. Opening the makeshift pack he withdrew the small haunch of raw meat and began cutting off small pieces and feeding them to his tired friend. Deanie snapped down the food and soon his belly was bulging. He curled up next to Sam, his breath still a little labored from his efforts.

Digging out the oil, Sam began to gently rub it on Deanie's skin, praising him for his work. "You're not anywhere near full grown and you're already so strong. But you silly thing, you didn't have to bring everything all at once. But thank you."

He had just finished oiling down his friend and was rubbing the excess oil into his own callused hands when he heard voices near the entrance. Other candidates were coming.

Several boys and a girl walked in and, upon seeing Sam, gathered round him and began to introduce themselves. Two additional older youths walked in. One of them was Serance who was talking to the other candidate but stopped mid-speech when he saw Sam. "You." His eyes burned with lust.

"Oh, you know each other?" Selina, the sole female candidate there, looked between the two young men. "You should ask to be reassigned to this room," she told Serance. "Then you can be with your friend."

Deanie felt the fear and fury spike in Sam and the little bronze fire lizard was immediately up and on Sam's shoulder, perched and ready to attack, his tail lashing, his gaze focused on the Lord Holder's son.

"He's no friend of mine," Sam grit out, his jaw clenched tightly. He glared hatefully at Serance. After a moment of thought he let a small evil smile curve his lips, "But by all means Serance, get reassigned to my room. I'll make sure you...sleep...well."

The rest of the candidates were silent, watching the two young men, a few giving Sam and the angry fire lizard on his shoulder a bit more room.

Sam debated about immediately packing up his meager supplies and leaving. But if the Lord Holder's son impressed, and someone obviously thought he might, Serance and his dragon would hunt Sam down and he knew it. Sam would be forced to remain at Ista with no place he could escape to. But could that selfish bastard even manage to impress a dragon? Sam had no idea. If Sam stayed and impressed a dragon he would have some recourse and he certainly would be free of Serance if Serance didn't impress. If Sam didn't impress, that dragonrider had promised to take him to the north. Hopefully he could find a place where Serance couldn't touch him, dragon or no dragon. Somehow. Even with that somewhat reassuring thought, a small part inside him despaired of ever escaping the Holder's son's lascivious attention.

Serance gave an easy smile. "You grow too big for your britches, drudge. As for which of us might put the other to sleep, only a fool would bet on you." Trained in war arts, Serance was quite sure he could best the drudge even if in a fight where the drudge had weapons and he himself used his bare hands. "Your selection means noth--"

Selina crossed her arms. "We are all equal here, and you should go to your assigned barrack now." Turning her back to him, she flounced over to Sam and flashing him a smile, claimed the bunk on top of his.
Sam's shock at the young woman taking such a tone with the holder's son was reflected in Deanie as Deanie stopped hissing and instead looked inquisitively at her. She smiled at Sam and even took the bunk overhead? Was she crazy?
Serance's eyes grew dark with anger. If she laid a hand on what was his...
One look back at Serance made his stomach twist. It was a warning to Sam, a warning to her, but she seemed completely unbothered by the threat. He would have to keep Serance's anger focused on himself and hopefully it would protect the foolish girl who didn't realize how dangerous a man Serance could be.

Sam typically kept his shoulders a little hunched so his full height wasn't readily apparent, and to help him duck through some of the lower doors, but he straightened, ignoring the feeling of some of the scabs on his back shift and crack open.

"Guess I'm no drudge anymore," Sam told him. "And you aren't a Lord. You're a candidate. Just. Like. Me."

"Enjoy your dreams, that is all they are. I've shown you before, but I must have been too gentle."

Selina looked down from where she sat on her bunk. "Don't listen to him. All the noble ones start off with such talk but they make the most mistakes because they know not how to obey and perform their chores. Very quickly, they learn that the weyrlingmaster's crop marks their backsides the same as it does ours," she snickered.

Some of the other boys nodded at Serance to leave.

"This is not finished." Turning on his heels, the nobleman left, barreling through another small group of candidates coming to the barracks.
Sam gave a sigh at Selina's comment about the crop and sat down on his new bed. "Guess it was too much to hope for that a weyr would be any different than a hold. Are we permitted to go see the healer?"

Now that some of his adrenaline had worn off and he was with those of his own rank, he felt he could let his guard down a little. Enough to ask questions, anyhow. He figured the snickers and jests would come soon enough. That and the ostracism. Serance would see to that as well. He shouldn't even bother trying to get to know those in the same barracks as he was in. What was the point?

His wrists were beginning to ache from the tight leather bindings that had been on them so recently and when Deanie had helped free him, the fire lizard's sharp claws and teeth and nicked his skin in a few places. He probably ought to get some salt water for that, and he needed a fresh saltwater rinse across his back and some more numbweed slathered on, just to help him sleep tonight. All the movement, and the pressure against his back while he was tied up, that had all taken a toll on him. He wouldn't bother the healer after today though. He would suffer through okay. He had enough old scars from accidents and disciplines, he was used to it. The back was just inconvenient. He would probably do well to sleep with his shirt off tonight to let the wounds breathe.

He shut his eyes a moment. He forgot his reeds filled with salt. He hadn't worried about them because he had planned to make new ones once he got where ever he was going, but he couldn't very well explain why he wanted to put them at the doorway of the barracks. He didn't know himself why he did it in all truth, but it was a compulsion. Everyone thought he was crazy anyhow. He could put them around the perimeter of his bed, but the reeds he had wouldn't be enough to fully encircle his bed. The thought of not having the salt around him while he slept gave him a cold chill. He would have to get more salt and more reeds to make extra. He would ask Deanie to retrieve the reeds once the little fire lizard had recovered from bringing him everything else.

"The rules are posted on the door," she answered, laying on her stomach and hanging down the side of the bed to look down at him. "If you can't read, I'll read them to you. We get up when the dragons bugle, breakfast, and the the weyrlingmaster will either schedule us for class or give us chores. You cannot socialize unless the chores are completed, or you have learned the day's lessons. You must be in bed by the time the dragons bugle again in the evening. It's not difficult for those of us used to it," she grinned, then sobered. "You look sad. Why did you ask about the healer? There are no restrictions."

"I can read," Sam confirmed. "I'll read them before I go to the healer's."

The days didn't sound terribly difficult though he would miss being outside and walking the shoreline, hunting for herbs and being away from the hold and people. Maybe the healer here would need supplies and he could still get outside, maybe that was one of the chores. He knew where all the best herbs were, after all.

He gave Selina a brief smile at her question of why he looked sad. "It's probably best if Serance doesn't see you talking to me. It will just get you in trouble. He doesn't...he doesn't like people talking to me except to give me my work for the day. I need to get some salt water for my wrist and my back from the healer. And I need some more numbweed put on my back. I already have some, so I won't be using the weyr's supplies," he assured her. Hastily he added, "I'm sure I won't need numbweed after tonight. I can do my chores."

"So that's how it is." She shook her head, knowing he wouldn't want to talk about it, but understanding completely. "They take good care of us, share the supplies they have. The healer will give you what you need."

He felt some small measure of relief that he could go see the healer and get his back taken care of.

The sound of heavy boots striking stone rang out, and weyrlingmaster D'rak came in. "You have a half candle mark to use the bathing pools, after which you will proceed to the main dining hall. The harper is here and will be instructing you. Questions?" Without waiting for any, he walked out.

Sam immediately memorized the man's face. He didn't know who he was, but obviously he was someone in command.

Selina scrambled off the bed. "Hurry, they have warm water... this is a treat," she said, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him up as the other candidates grabbed fresh clothes and drying cloths. She pointed to his candidate robes at the foot of his bed. "If they're too short, you will need to see the headwoman."
"Warm water?" he said. He couldn't remember the last time he had a warm bath. He always went after he got in at night and the water was rarely warm to begin with. In fact, by the time he could get to the baths, they were generally pretty cold.

Her physical contact startled him and Deanie squawked at her. His gaze followed her indication to the foot of the bed. He picked up the robe and held it up. It barely came to his knees. Great. Something else to be laughed at about. He would be lucky to get proper robes in a month he figured, but by then the hatching would be over and it wouldn't matter. He didn't really see the sense in asking for them.

He waited for the others to file out in front of him. Maybe they would let him in the pools before the candle reached its mark. He really would like to bathe since he hadn't had the chance the night before. The water would probably be dirty by that time though and with his back, he probably shouldn't go in. Well, he could just wipe down he supposed. It looked like he wouldn't get to see the healer until after his lessons and by then there would probably be more chores. He wondered how late the dragons bugled. Well, maybe he could get the girl--he didn't even know her name--to wipe down his back and put the numbweed on it tonight before bed. He should have just refused the dragonrider's offer. He could be halfway down the coast and fishing for spiderclaws for himself and Deanie and enjoying the sunshine if he had.

Seeing him dawdle, Selina came back and grabbed Sam. "Have to do things quickly around here," she said, tugging him along.

All of the candidates made their way to a narrow set of stairs. Hand on the wall, they walked down into a large room with four pools of water, a bit of steam rising off them. Candidates from the second barracks joined them, and everyone started to strip and put their clothes on hooks. There were mostly boys but a few girls were in the mix.

Serance took up a position from where he had a clear view of Samuel. He stripped very slowly, waiting on the drudge to do the same.

Sam slowly, carefully pulled off his shirt, wincing as he tried and finally succeeded in getting it over his head. He hung it on a hook, dark blood spots sprinkled across it here and there. He began to take off his boots when he felt as if he were being watched. He looked around and saw Serance standing on the other staircase, leering at him.

His breath caught in his throat and nearly choked him. He was not going to get undressed in front of that bastard.

"I, uh, I think I'll just rinse off and change. I'm not a big fan of baths anyhow," Sam told Selina and turned his back on her to take his shirt off the hook and put it back on.

She had started to take her robe off when she caught sight of his wounds and gasped. "What happened... who did that..." Eyes narrowed, she looked at Serance. You didn't have to be a quick study to know that one misused his power and was at odds with Sam. "You should bathe, if only to keep the wounds clean," she said, "wait a moment."

Quite the organizer, she had the boys from their barracks move behind Sam, forming a wall between him and his nemesis. "There. Now get in the water. I'll have your towel waiting for you when you're done." Directing a victorious look at Serance, she couldn't help feeling a cold shiver at the pure hatred in the man's eyes. She'd have to get Sam to talk to the weyrlingmaster. The man had power over all of the candidates, and then any who advanced to weyrling upon impression of dragons. He would set the holder's son straight on hierarchy around here.

Sam practically gaped at her. No one would ever do anything like this for him in the hold. After a moment of nervous hesitation, he quickly disrobed and got in the water, keeping his back to the candidates of the other barracks. Trying to be quick about it since he didn't want the others penalized and having to cut their bath time any shorter, he took a deep breath, readying himself for the pain he knew the water would cause. His breath hissed as he sank into the water and the warm liquid caressed the wounds. Giving it a ten count, he gently twisted back and forth to help clean his back. Starting to stand up and wash, he was surprised when the rest of the candidates jumped into the pool. He noticed how they still ringed him on one side, making certain Serance couldn't see anything below the water. He could take his time and actually enjoy the warm water. With their protection he felt almost safe from Serance, maybe for the first time ever. If it wouldn't have embarrassed him so much he would have cried in response to their kindness. He gave tentative smiles to the young men around him when they smiled at him reassuringly. He scooped up the soap sand and after washing himself, bit his already wounded lip as he forced himself to wash the wounds on his back that he could reach.

Seeing him struggling, Selina waded over to Sam. "I'll do it." With ample soap sand in her hand, she gently scrubbed those parts of Sam's back that were unmarred. Anger coursed through her body. "I hope he impresses green and some brown rider fecks him into ground and cuts off his..."

Catching glimpses of Sam, and of that girl's hand on what belonged to him, a snarl welled at the back of Serance's throat. But he was outnumbered and had to bide his time. For each touch, someone would pay... oh they would pay dearly. His arousal at the sight of Sam without his clothes was almost painful, and his inability to slake his lust on the drudge both angered him and sharpened his need. Once, when Sam turned in his direction, Serance openly moved his hand over his own flesh, letting the drudge see the recognizable back and forth motion of his arm... he'd know... he'd know, and that was all that was important.

Lowering himself so the girl could reach his back more easily Sam said, "I, uh, I don't even know your name. Mine's Sam." The young woman's hands worked so gently on his back. He was unaccustomed to such a gentle touch. In truth, he was unaccustomed to anyone touching him at all.

"Selina," she said.

"Pleasure to meet you," Sam said politely, though that seemed really strange considering they were both naked in a bathing pool and she was washing away dried blood and old numbweed and salt. He glanced up and saw Serance...He quickly averted his eyes.

"Serance," he nearly spat the name, "he's dangerous Selina. You really shouldn't be showing me so much favor. There's no telling what he might do. He's the holder's son. He has a lot of power, even if you say he doesn't here, that he's just another candidate. He still has power."

Another boy, younger, with dark hair, waded up. "I'm a holder's son too. This is my fifth hatching, though I was at Benden for the last two. When Selina tells you noble blood doesn't mean anything, she's right. I've had to wash dishes and clean out...nasty things, just like any kitchen drudge. No offense," he added hastily. "It was eye opening and D'rak, the weyrlingmaster here? He loves to take nobility down a few notches. Serance will get his due soon enough. Besides! You're in our barracks and we all look out for each other. And most people here are not nobility and if it's one thing I've learned, non-nobles just love picking on nobility. I'm Zarlin, by the way."

Sam smiled and nodded a little, still feeling awkward and overwhelmed by it all. He gave a final glance at Serance and saw the man was still watching him. He shuddered and turned back to his new friends.

It was dark in the weyr caverns, and quiet in the candidate barracks quarters. Candidates and weyrlings were forced to sleep early as they had long days ahead, and the rules were strictly enforced.

Serance nodded at Alderash to slip through the door of the barracks first. The man was used to following his instructions since he’d been a drudge at the hold. Following him, Serance waited for his eyes to adjust, and then walked straight to the bunk bed he’d been thinking about since the moment he’d laid eyes on his lanky obsession.

Looking into the lower bunk, he saw Sam was asleep, expression careless and laying on his stomach. The thought of his cock pressing into the thin mattress had Serance on edge. Leaning in, he clapped his hand over Sam’s mouth, sitting simultaneously down on the bed next to him, crouched down so his head would not touch the bottom of the upper bunk.

Sam practically jerked awake when the hand clamped over his mouth and his mind was busy trying to make sense of where he was, why he wasn't in his own bed, and in his own quarters. Deanie, sensing his sudden fear, popped between instantly.

The moment the youth’s eyes opened, Serance shook his head and leaned over to speak in his ear. “One sound, and your friend dies. You will be blamed, because the knife would be from your bed.”

Sam twisted his head a little and saw that at the foot of the bed Alderash was holding the sharp edge of a long dagger up against the springs of the top bunk. Selina lay sleeping up there, her head and shoulders at about where the dagger was pointed. He felt his blood ice. She would die because of him. He wished he had made her listen, made her leave him alone. How could he think he would ever be safe from the Lord Holder's son?

“Just give me an excuse and I will give the order,” Serance hissed. “Now tell your fire lizard to leave us alone, and follow me.” Gripping Sam’s bicep, Serance brandished his own knife, holding it to Sam’s throat.
Sam mentally instructed Deanie to hide up in the rafters and not to follow, no matter what. He feared if he asked Deanie to bring someone to the barracks Alderash would do what Serance promised. He might well anyhow, but he couldn't risk it. He wouldn't risk Selina's life on a maybe.

Doing as the man ordered, Sam quietly rose from his bed. The sharp edge of the knife cut just a fraction into his throat but he forced himself to remain silent. He padded barefoot across the cold stone. He wondered if they would even find his body after Serance was done with him. They might well assume Sam decided against trying to Impress and simply left. He couldn't imagine the dragonrider that made the deal with him would really believe that, but if they couldn't find his body, what other explanation was there?

The man guided Sam a few corridors over, into an area that surely had once been inhabited by weryfolk, but the plague had killed so very many and these rooms were now empty of occupants. The room Serance brought him to already had glow lighting it up. It was obvious Serance had prepared the place just for him.

"Stop." Serance ran his hand down Sam's face, neck and chest.

Sam stopped his shuffle forward but couldn't stop himself from flinching at the man's disgusting touch.

"You thought to surround yourself with children? Where are those children now? Get down on that pallet," he jerked his head toward the thin mattress on the floor. "And if you have any ideas about getting help, I have others watching the halls... if you leave this room they will say the word and your little protectress shall be dead. Now get down."

Sam's eyes went to the mattress. What choice did he have? He went down to his hands and knees and then stretched out on the too short mattress, folding his arms and resting his head on his hands. It would be over soon, he told himself. It would be over and then he could leave, demand the dragonrider fly him north and leave him somewhere, anywhere. Just so long as Serance wasn't there and there was no one Serance could hurt if Sam were found.

Serance followed him to the ground, roughly pulled one of his arms and then pulled Sam's wrist through an already looped rope. In practiced motions, he tied it to a stake he'd driven into the wall. This way, one of the youth's arms would be secured, but he had enough range of motion that Serance could do as he pleased and move him at will. "What made you think you could escape me? Did you think I would not follow you even here?" It wasn't true, but he wanted the drudge to know he would never be free of him.

Sam felt his anger well up inside him. Had he badgered the dragonmen into bringing him here? Just to get to Sam? That seemed unlikely. They really thought a cruel bastard like this was worthy of a dragon? If they did, he didn't want any part of it. He would never want to call himself a dragonrider if something like this dung could impress.

"At least I cost you your Hold," Sam snarled at him. "Free of you, they'll never let your fecking stench back inside. You were never worthy to be a holder. You lust after a male kitchen drudge. How pathetic is that?"

Serance grabbed his shoulder and flipped him onto his still healing back. Pulling his fist back, Serance smashed it into Sam's face, a smile spreading across his face when he heard Sam's head make contact with the stone floor beyond the pallet. "Know your place, drudge. I may lust after you, but after I use you, I will wipe my boots on you and walk away."

Sam's head practically rang with the solid blow both from in front and behind. Serance didn't break his nose, but he still felt warm liquid spill out.

The trickle of blood from Sam's nose reached his lip. Reaching out, Serance used his thumb to spread the redness across Sam's lips. "You have tortured me for the last time. It's time to pay." Straddling him, Serance grabbed Sam's white tunic and used the knife to slice it down the center. The knife was sharp enough to cut through Sam's tunic almost as if it were a spinner's web.

Licking his lips, he dragged the knife back up Sam's chest, drawing along the lines of his muscles, and bringing the point to the base of his throat. "Open your mouth. If you bite, I will kill you."

Sam was surprised a line of blood hadn't been left in the cold blade's wake. He felt its point against his throat. He didn't want to die; that realization stole away some of his anger. If he wasn't ready to die, that left him one choice. He did as he was bid.

Serance shoved his finger inside Sam's mouth, eyes rolling back as he pressed down on the drudge's tongue. He sensed the drudge fighting his gag reflex, it gave him a sense of power. Pulling his finger to the side, Serance lowered his mouth and stuffed his tongue inside, crushing Sam's lips against his teeth.

Sam couldn't help the sound of pain that escape his throat as his teeth cut into his own lips.

Serance savaged Sam's mouth, biting his lips, moaning as Sam tried to move his face away. "Mine... fecking bastard, mine."

The kiss was sheer brutality and Serance drew blood as he bit his tender lips repeatedly. Try as he might, Sam’s struggle only seemed to make the man more excited and pleased.

Suddenly straddling his hips, Serance leaned forward and ground his cock over Sam's hard abs, the thin material of their loose pants hardly offering any separation. "For making me crazy, for making it hard for me to think, for bewitching me," he chanted, as he fucked against Sam, eyes growing wilder. "Move... do something..." the knife hovered over Sam's eye.
That the lord holder would blind him if he didn't respond, he had no doubt. He could beg and he knew that would please Serance, but he knew that wouldn't be enough. Not this time. And the thought of begging this bastard for anything made him want to throw up. The other option wasn't much more desirable. He began to roll his hips and offer some pressure to the man's need, thrusting back against him. He eyed the knife warily and eased his head away from the threat as best as he could manage.

"That's it, yes," he all but growled, grinding harder over Sam. He fucked up against him, harder, faster, he head falling back.

Sam tried thrusting against him to match his pace, to increase his pace, to get the bastard to come already and for it to be over.

This should be enough, it should, but in Serance's mind, he was fucking Sam in the ass. He recalled how round and hard Sam's ass had been when he'd pressed against it that time he administered punishment. Now all he could think about was getting between Sam's ass cheeks, fucking him, teaching him who his master was.

Lifting up, he snarled, "roll over." And when Sam didn't move fast enough, he pushed him in the direction he could roll with his hand still tied.

It all caught Sam off guard. The man suddenly lifting off of him, demanding he...what? His bound arm twisted painfully as Serance pushed him. He struggled a moment to do what Serance told him, still trying to put sense to the demand. But Serance did that for him as he yanked down his pants.

"Tell me you want me inside you, call me master... fecking say it," he shouted, holding a fistful of Sam's hair and twisting it.

By the first egg, no! He didn't want that bastard's sharding cock buried in him. He used his bound hand for leverage, grabbing hold of the rope and trying to pull away from Serance, but the man's grip on his hair only pulled his head back further and he almost whimpered. He used his free hand to try to untangle his locks from Serance's grip but he couldn't. He also couldn't bring himself to say what the bastard demanded.

Serance drove his knee into Sam's back, and Sam felt some of his healing lashes break open and a gasp of pain escaped him.

"Do you still rebel? Wait until I am inside you, you will know who I am." Still grasping Sam's hair, he knelt between his legs, aligned his already leaking cock with one hand and worked his tip inside. The drudge struggled to get away but in one fierce thrust, Serance impaled impaled him. Serances's head rolling back as he grunted with pleasure, "so fecking tight boy, so fecking tight."

Sam screamed as he felt Serance fill him, as he felt his tender skin rip and burn. The shock and pain made him groan in agony. He struggled to get away, to pull himself free of Serance's thick cock buried deeply inside him but had no real leverage to do so. He couldn't stop his sob.

Sam's shout, his struggles kicked up Serance's lust a notch. Finally, finally the drudge recognized his authority, acknowledged his power over him. Growing impossibly thicker inside Sam, he pulled half way out and rammed himself inside again, crying out his pleasure. His cry of pleasure was matched with an equal cry of pain by the young man he fecked. Tears streamed down Sam's cheeks.

Letting the knife drop, he forced Sam's face to the side, kissing the side of his mouth as he started to rut against him. Heat, like waves of molten lava, rolled though him. This was what he'd wanted, needed for so fecking long. His hips snapped forward, over and over, grunts breaking out of him. Every thrust extracted a whimper, a groan of pain against Serance's lips. Serance wrapped his arm around Sam's waist, lifting his ass into the air, the other hand planted painfully in Sam's injured back, keep his face ground into the floor.

Serance moved his other hand, wrapping his fist around Sam's cock and pumping, and squeezing him painfully tight. "Fithy. Disgusting. Unnatural," he practically crooned between hoarse grunts.

Sam couldn't move, the hard repeated thrusts inside him sending coiling pain into his gut. But even with the pain, his body couldn't help but respond to the grip around his cock, to the hand stroking and squeezing. His body began to respond in ways that disgusted him, beginning to feck into that stimulating hand and each pull back from that hand pushed him onto Serance's cock, accompanied with a new spike of pain. The burning was easing, his insides becoming used to the thickened flesh pumping in and out of him. His groans now mixed with his voiced sexual needs. Sam pumped harder, sobbing, unable to control what his body wanted, giving Serance everything he wanted as he pushed into Serance's hand and pushed back onto his cock with an ever increasing pace. He let out a cry as he felt his balls draw up. He shoved hard into Serance's hand as he stiffened and came, spurting spunk in thick ropes.

At the same time, Sam felt Serance bury himself painfully deep and felt the man's hot seed fill him as the man quivered and pulled out a bit, only to shove in deeper. He felt the horrid man's cum dribble from his ass. He shook and moaned with the aftershocks of coming as Serance milked him dry, each continued stroke painful to his over sensitized cock, but causing him to clench against the dick still slowly pumping in and out of him.

Serance shuddered, licking the side of Sam's face. "You won't even be able to claim rape. You wanted this," he said, lifting up, then wiping his wet hand over Sam's mouth. "And here's your evidence."

Pushing up from the ground, he started to re-clothe himself. "And stop crying. We'll do this again, you can bet on that. I cannot wait." Right before he left the room, he cut the bindings holding Sam's wrist. Then without a backwards glance, he left the room.

8/9 [NC-17] Dean/Sam, SPN Xover Twilight

2009-11-21T20:00:08Z

Hearfelt thanks to the artistic and generous lightthesparks who made this story banner for us.

Fandom: SPN X-Over Twilight
Title: Claiming
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) and Fetish ( sam_dean_fetish)
Pairing: Vamp!Sam/Dean, the Cullen family (from Stephenie Meyer’s “Twilight”)
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; dubious consent; Slash; bloodplay (Sam and Dean are not brothers in this fic)
Characters: SPN, Twilight and the characters from these t.v. shows and movies/books are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.
Summary: Dean is captured and held by the Cullens in their basement while they find themselves a new home, one where the hunters won't find them. Responsible for feeding and taking care of him, Sam Cullen develops an obsession with Dean. One that Dean foolishly tries to exploit.
Written for mre_quecky (who requested Twilight X-over fic with Dean being held prisoner by the Cullens) and serendip50 (who wanted Vamp!Sam and rude awakenings).

Master Post - All Prior Chapters

Carlisle knocked on Sam’s bedroom door, and when his son said to come in, he and Alice walked inside. Looking at Sam’s drawn features, Carlisle knew they were going to have to be delicate about this. He didn’t want his son going around the bend. His son had waited a long time, longer than his other children, to find a mate. And the timing and circumstances could not have been worse. Sam had always been a little compulsive, and his reaction to finding his mate and knowing the clock was running had been no different.

Once Ros had notified the Voltari with details on Dean Winchester, the hunter was a man marked for death. The Cullens had to hold him for the Voltari to take care of. Lying to the Voltari was not an option. It was more than likely that at least one of the Vampires would have the ability to read the truth. That meant the Cullens could neither let Dean go and then try to claim he escaped, nor could they trick the Voltari into believing that the human was in love with Sam, and would be his mate... and thus have no reason to ever disclose their existence to other humans. The Voltari creed, or purpose, was to keep that knowledge from humans, and they thought nothing of slaughtering them. They also slaughtered Vampires who violated their laws.

Their one chance for a happy ending was for Sam to make Dean fall in love with him. Then no one would have to die. The Voltari could read Dean, be satisfied, and leave. Carlisle knew the circumstances made it a long shot, unless Dean fell prey to Stockholm Syndrome. And if Dean was not in love, Carlisle wasn't sure he could stop Sam from squaring off with the Votari. But there was no winning against them, not even if the entire family stood behind Sam.

Alice went right to Sam and slipping her arms around his waist, gave him a hug. “They’ve landed, in New York,” she said. “The Voltari should be here in...”

“If we’re lucky, it will take them a few days,” Carlisle interjected. “It will depend on whether they come directly or not.”

Sam looked down at his sister, then up at his father, lips parted as he shook his head. "No, they can't be here already. It's too soon, and I don't have... Dean doesn't lo..." Sam raised a hand running it through his hair, before sitting down numbly onto the lounge. "What am I gonna do?" he muttered softly, staring off straight ahead.

“Son does he have any feelings for you?” Carlisle knew about the deals and the fooling around. He had a feeling that that particular hunter would have refused every deal and would have made Sam force him every step of the way, if there wasn’t any return interest. But that didn't mean he would or had rolled over. Not for the first time, Carlisle wished they'd been able to get in touch with Jasper. His son had the gift of sensing emotions, and also manipulating them. A little push from him might have gone a long way.

Sam looked over at his Carlisle and shook his head, "Nah, none." He pressed his lips together, shaking his head as he tore his gaze away from his dad. Clasping his hands together in front of himself, Sam sighed. "I'm just going to have to turn him, no matter what. He'll hate me, but what the hell," he glanced back at his father and sister, "not like he doesn't already, right? And they won't act against him once he's a Vampire... he'll be one of us."

Alice went to sit next to him. “I think you’re wrong... he does feel for you. Or he wouldn’t be jealous.” She’d tossed out the information about Sam’s date and even if she hadn’t been satisfied by Dean’s reactions, from what Sam told her, she could tell Dean had in fact been jealous.

Sam sighed and shook his head. "I don't think so, Alice. If he had any feelings for me at all, why'd he leave?"

“If you turn him, the Voltari won’t kill him,” Carlisle stated the obvious. “But to turn him against his wishes, it goes against our way.” The Cullens were not only ‘vegetarians’ but they also didn’t believe in turning people without giving them a choice.

Sam's attention went to their dad as Caslisle spoke, Sam knew what he said was true, the right thing. He shouldn't turn Dean against his will, wouldn't if the situation had been different. "I don't see that I have any other choice in the matter, dad," Sam told him then looked back at Alice. "I change him and let him hate me in order to save his life. It's all I can do."

Her sketch pad was never far, and was having a vision even as the men talked. With unseeing eyes she drew what she saw, and felt Carlisle come up behind her. “No. Sam, no.” Licking her lips, Alice got up. “Before... I saw you two together, happy. That was before he escaped, before you dragged him back.” They all knew that had not been pretty for Dean.

“I think that changed things... something big changed,” she said, her eyes drilling into Sam’s. “If you turn him against his will... this is what will happen...” she showed him the picture, one based on Sam's new decision to turn Dean. “He’ll be as strong as us, and he’ll hate us... he’ll try to kill you, maybe all of us.”

Carlisle pinched the bridge of his nose. “If that’s the result of your decision to turn him against his will, it’s unacceptable.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue, would have argued if Alice hadn't said that Dean might try to kill his family too. Instead he snapped his mouth closed with a sigh. "So, what do I do? Just let him die? Let the Voltari kill him?" Sam hung his head shaking it.

“Maybe if you change an important factor...” Carlisle started.

“Like... get him to agree,” Alice added. “Yes, then he wouldn’t have a reason to hate us all. Talk some sense into him, explain what the Votari are, how he has no prayer of escaping them. Make him see that turning is the only way.”

Sam nodded. He really didn't think it would work, but he'd give it a shot. Worst case, he's just have to change him and hope for the best, because Sam was not going to allow Dean to be killed.

* * *

Ankles shackled to long chains, Dean concentrated on breathing as he did push ups. His mind was a furious mess of emotions, of confusion. It was so much easier when when things were black and white, when he'd first had his ass dragged back here and could hate Sam for it. Hate helped him focus, helped him know what he wanted, made him feel less torn. But just like the first time he'd been imprisoned, something about Sam seemed to wear him down. He knew about Stockholm Syndrom, but this wasn't that... this was something else. As straight as he'd been all his life, Dean was pretty damned sure that if he'd met Sam under other circumstances, and if Sam had propositioned him, Dean would have gone down the road of taking him to his motel room and seeing where it went, sooner or later. The attraction between them was that strong. And maybe they'd have found this forever kind of love that Sam kept talking about.

But that's not how things had gone. The black and white facts were that his choice had been taken away. How could someone tell you they loved you, and yet keep you locked up, sometimes in a matchbox, sometimes in a gilded cage? And why... how could the person who was locked up have these... these insane wishes ... wanting to explore the love that was offered, even as he doubted it's reality?

That's it, he was gonna stop looking in Sam's eyes, stop looking at his face. He needed to dehumanize him more. Maybe make Sam hate him. Maybe then, Sam would let him go. Right... that's why his heart jumped at the sound of the door, even as he refused to look up to see who it was, and even as he hoped it was Sam coming to keep him company.

Sam walked down the steps his heart heavy. He still didn't really know how in the hell he was going to save Dean from the Voltari. Sure he had told his sister and father that he would simply turn Dean and allow him to hate him, but then what Alice had drawn... and even before that... knowing Dean had no love for him was hard enough, but the thought of having his hate into eternity, it hurt beyond anything Sam could imagine.

Lifting his head as he reached the bottom step, Sam looked over at Dean and held up a hand, carrying a six pack of beers. "I got you somethin'," Sam told him, before tearing his gaze away, "I-" he sighed and shook his head as he grabbed a chair to pull over near the cage. "Nothing," he said, setting the beers down on the floor close enough to the bars that Dean could reach through and grab one. They were already cold, the amber bottles frosting in the room's warmer temperature, condensation sliding down the sides.

Taking a step back, Sam took a seat in the chair, elbows on his knees, hands folded before him. "Go ahead, have as many as you want," he mumbled softly, head hanging once more.

"Peace offering?" Dean asked, before he could hold the words back. Lowering his body, he crawled close to the bars and sat up, reaching for a bottle. Holding the bottle cap against tne of the bars, he hit the bottom of the bottle and got it open. Only as he brought the cold brew up to his lips did he look at Sam, already breaking his first vow to separate himself from the vampire.

Sam sighed and shrugged a shoulder, though he didn't look up. "If that's what you want to call it."

"What would you call it?"

Sam glanced up at Dean, brow quirked, "Love token?"

Dean swallowed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at Sam. "Sometimes I believe you. Then I remember this..." he gripped a bar and made as if to shake it, though it was immovable. "Words are easy. I've always been more of a judge by someone's actions kinda guy." And yet a warm heat was washing over him, like he could bask in this man's love, even if his love was... unusual and maybe 'off.'

Sam huffed and tore his gaze awayy. "Doesn't matter now. None of this," he said as he sat back with a sigh, "matters anymore." He looked at Dean. "The Voltari are here, in New York." Sam licked his lips, "When they get here, they will kill you. There is no fighting them, no getting away from them, they are more powerful than anything you have ever faced, will ever face." He looked beyond Dean, muscle twitching in his jaw as he spoke. "I thought... I thought I could get you to love me, save you, but..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Dean thought he could fight anything, win against anything. There was always an Achilles heel, always. Yet he'd been Sam's prisoner for... it felt like forever. He couldn't fight 'one Sam,' so how was he going to fight a bunch of badasses that were like Sam, but intent on killing him? Well, there was always a chance... always. "Am I gonna spend my last hours a prisoner?" Dean stood up, looked intently at Sam. "Am I?"

Sam pressed his lips together. "You were never a prisoner, not really. Prisoners have no power, no say over their captors. You could twist me in two with a word or a look. Prisoners have all their rights taken away. I tried to give you as much as I could without having you run away." Taking a deep breath, Sam continued. "You want your freedom? You want away from here, me? Let me change you into a vampire. It will save your life and then you can have your precious freedom. I love you too much to see you die."

"You're fucking kidding." Dean almost dropped his beer. Oddly, it wasn't the notion of being turned that had him stunned. What held him in place was Sam's offer to give him his freedom, something... something he'd thought he'd never hear. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he drained the rest of his beer.

Looking intently at Dean, Sam asked softly, "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Slowly bending down, Dean set the empty bottle on the floor and grabbed another one. "Drink with me." It was a demand.

Sam's gaze flickered to the beer on the floor then back up into Dean's face. He shook his head, "I - we can't process alcohol well."

"It won't kill you." Dean closed his eyes for a moment. "Drink with me."

Sam gave a weary sigh and leaned forward, grabbing one of the bottles and pulling back, bottle in hand. Sitting back on the chair, his gaze never leaving Dean, Sam popped the cap off the beer like it was nothing, then raised the bottle to his lips, taking a drink. Lowering the bottle, Sam made a face before the corner of his lips quirked up in a rueful smile. "I'd rather drink it from your blood."

"Is that how I'd be? Never enjoy a drink again?" Dean asked, his entire body coiled and tensed, knowing he was on the very edge of a cliff, a decision that could kill him, one way or another.

Sam's gaze was intense as he licked his lips. "I enjoy drink... enjoy the taste of your blood. It's better than anything I've ever had before. Even as a human." he gave a small smile, "And before you ask, yes, I still remember being human." He sat forward, "If you really wish to drink something or eat it, you can," he gave a nod, " as you say, it won't kill you," he shrugged a shoulder, "but it won't help you either. All you'll need to survive is blood," he frowned slightly, tearing his gaze away as he fidgeted with the bottle in his hands, "and your mate," he added in a mumble. Sam cleared his throat, looking back up at Dean, "So, is it a deal?"

"No. No it's not a deal. I'm not drunk enough to make that deal." His heart was hammering so hard it fucking hurt. "You said freedom. If I take the deal, I'm gonna hold you to that." A muscle started to twitch in his jaw.

Sam nodded, his gaze intent on Dean's. "I promise. On all the love I have for you, as soon as you allow the change, I will free you. You have my word," Sam closed his eyes taking in a deep breath before opening them, "forever."

One thing Sam hadn't done was lie to him. Nodding, Dean drank some more, licking his lips as a little drizzled out in his rush to get wasted. "I probably should have asked for whiskey." He took a couple deep breaths. "Get in here. Before I change my mind, get in here."

Sam pulled from the chair unlocked the door to the cage and walked inside. Biting his lip, he crouched, then moved to sit flat on the floor, cross-legged and took another drink of the beer, grimacing and setting it down on the floor. "Whenever you're ready, just - just let me know," Sam told him softly, his chest aching at the thought of never seeing Dean again, but at least he'd know that Dean was out there, somewhere, this his love lived. He had to do this for that fact alone, no matter how much it hurt to let go, to know that he would never see Dean again.

"Undo these." Dean walked close, looked down at the shackles, then kept drinking. He was going to hold it together, and he was going to have as much control over the situation as he could.

Sam pressed his lips together and leaned forward, reaching out to unlock the shackles from around Dean's ankles.

Dean licked his lips. "Tell me what it was like, when you were turned. Who did it. Why."

Pulling back once he was finished unfastening the shakles Sam looked up at Dean from where he sat on the floor. With a sigh, Sam ran a hand through his hair, "I - I was dying," Sam licked his lips, "Carli - uh, my dad found me in the hospital he worked at. I was dying and he turned me. I was," he gave a small huff. "I was suppose to be for Alice, but..." he shrugged a shoulder, "she found Jasper," he looked into Dean's eyes, "literally," he waved a dismissive hand, "long story."

"If she hadn't found Jasper, then she'd be your mate." He was struggling to understand, to balance all these conflicting thoughts and emotions. Dean was trying so damned hard.

Sam shrugged a shoulder, "She was suppose to be, yes." he shook his head, "but you know parents." he gave a small smile, "It's like yours wanting you to marry a good girl with a good family. Doesn't always work that way, but that was Car - I mean, dad's thinking, yes."

"What about your thinking?" Bending over, Dean grabbed yet another bottle, held it out for Sam to open.

Sam shook his head as he opened the bottle for Dean and handed it back, "I was young, new to all of this." He frowned, "Alice means the world to me, all of them do, but was she the one?" he quirked a brow and shook his head, "No. We both knew this, it's why when she found Jasper," he shrugged, "I wasn't upset."

Was that relief flooding through his system? Dean didn't even know. In silence, he knocked back as much of his drink as he could, recalling the taste of apple pie, the feel of a perfectly flaky crust. Java in the morning and late at night. A donut with double glazing eaten at three in the morning. There were some tears that threatened to fall, but he banished all thought of his brother and dad... what they'd think of him... of this, and looked down at the vampire. "Stand up." He swallowed. "We're doing this standing up."

Sam looked at him and shook his head, "I - I will do this any way that you wish, but if we are standing," Sam licked his lips and sighed softly. He could catch Dean when he fell. It wasn't too much to ask that they were standing. Sam shook his head, "Nevermind," Sam mumbled as he pulled to his feet, standing before Dean and nodding. "Alright. Whenever you're ready."

Dean let the bottle go, letting it crash against the floor. Taking a step forward, he put his hands on Sam's chest and pushed him back up against the wall. Pushing one knee between Sam's legs, he brought his mouth close to Sam's. "You want this?"

Sam's lips parted, tongue darting out to run along his bottom lip as his gaze fell to Dean's mouth. He nodded, "Yeah, kiss me."

Touching his mouth to Sam's, Dean held still for a moment, then pulled away slightly. "I want one more thing, in addition to freedom. I want you to promise me, Sam... If I kill anyone... anyone, you, your family, the Voltari... whoever it takes... you finish me. I don't want to be the monster I used to hunt. Promise me."

Sam licked his lips as he gazed at Dean, "I-" he swallowed. Not many of his kind lived the way that the Cullens did. They were rare, living off animals and not humans. It could be done, but it was hard, it had taken them all some getting use to it, and still Jasper had his moments when they had to rein him in. Sam gave a small nod. "I promise." He wasn't so sure he could keep that promise, but he would try. Even if Dean killed, there was a good chance he's never hear about it. There was no doubt Dean would run far away from him and every Cullen on the planet once the transformation was over. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard a promise to keep after all.

"Deal." Dean sealed it with a kiss, a hard, brutal kiss. Their mouths crushed together, teeth clinking. He tasted blood on his lips, his own, it hurt, it burned, but he was almost unaware of it. The anger and denial welling up inside him needed an outlet, and this was it. His hand slid behind Sam's neck, pulling him closer, his body sliding against the vampires. He wanted, needed to find fault, wanted to blame the one who was going to turn him... and when that failed, he tried to punish him with this...

Sam returned the kiss, giving as good as he got, though his teeth ached and the blood pounded in his temples. His blood lust was was as high as his need for his mate as he ground his hips back against Dean, their mouth crushing together, tongues tangling. Sam gripped Dean's face in both his hands, tongue fucking his mouth hard, giving no quarter, a low growl sounding deep in his throat as he held Dean's head still to his mouth and tongue's assault.

Heat flared between them, burning away all thoughts, all doubts in Dean's mind. He moaned against Sam's mouth, his body hardening, pressing against Sam's, seeking... wanting. He moved one hand behind Sam, gripping his ass, pulling him up against his body, letting him feel his erection. All bets were off. There was no pride, no right and wrong. Just him and this vampire who set his blood on fire.

Sam's hands' moved, one down to cup the back of Dean's neck, the other slid between them cupping Dean through his jeans before he broke the kiss, sucking Dean's bottom lips before as he did. "Want you," Sam breathed softly, "once more," his lips brushed Dean's, "please."

Thrusting hard against Sam's palm, Dean groaned. "Yes... yes, Sam. Want you... right now, one more time... fuck me." It had been so long, so fucking long since he'd had Sam inside him. Felt him fucking him hard, and yet straining to protect him, to keep from hurting him. Too long. His hands moved between them, and he started to undo Sam's pants, his mouth breaking away as he stepped back to pull down Sam's zipper. His eyes were locked with the vampires, engaged in a battle of love, and war, and anger, and truth, and wills. Just like every other moment between them.

Sam allowed Dean the time it took to unfasten his jeans before stepping forward. In one fluid motion, he captured Dean's mouth, his hands quickly moving to Dean's jeans, unfastening the button and zipper. As he tugged the jeans down, they never stopped kissing, tongues sliding together, the tip of Sam's tongue running along the roof of Dean's mouth along the backs of his teeth, flicking against Dean's tongue before twining together.

Wrapping one arm around Sam's shoulder, the other around his waist, Dean clung to Sam, rubbing up against him, moaning against his mouth as waves of heat consumed him. He was getting so hard and heavy between his legs, he needed Sam to touch. Their bodies writhed together, Dean unable to get as much pressure as he wanted, growling in frustration. He reached down, and pushed his jeans further down his body, then practically kicked them off. By the time he was back in Sam's arms, Sam's jeans were half way down the vampire's thighs. "Better," he muttered, arms around Sam's shoulders, thrusting his hips and grinding his cock against Sam's. "Oh yeah... fuck..."

Sam ground his hips back against Dean's as he sought out Dean's mouth, lips pressed together mouths open Sam moaned softly, eyes closing. "Love you," he whispered softly, before sliding his tongue into Dean's mouth, kissing him hard, tongues tangling, teeth knocking together. Sam didn't want to hear why he didn't, shouldn't love Dean. Fact was he did and whether or not the hunter wanted to hear it, Sam had said it anyway, even if he did steal Dean's chance to argue away.

Everything Sam said about him having had power over Sam came back to him full force as Sam kissed the breath out of him. It was something he'd known all along, something he'd revelled in, each time Sam looked at him a certain way, focused on only him. He even liked his obsession, it made him feel... special, got him hot in all sorts of wrong ways. And he'd exercised that power on many ocasions, manipulating, pushing Sam, getting satisfaction from seeing him do what he asked, wanted. Was that love? He wasn't sure, but he knew damned well if he weren't forced to stay here... he'd be back, he'd take Sam out for a test drive... see if there was something there.

Dean kissed him back like he loved him, held him like he loved him, moved against him like Sam was the center of his world. For the moment, it felt right... damned right. Their breaths mingled. Their groans echoed off the walls. Dean's mouth slipped from Sam' and moved over the shell of his ear. "Do me."

Sam's breath hitched as a low groan broke from his throat, eyes slowly fluttering open pulled back to look at Dean through passion glazed eyes. He licked his lips and reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and tossing it off as he moved his legs, making his jeans slide down enough to step out of them, his gaze fixed on Dean the entire time. "You have no idea what you do to me." Sam told him softly, as he slid his boxers down and leaned in to slant his mouth over Dean's again.

"Show me." Grabbing Sam's hips, Dean spun them around so his own back was against the wall for the moment. He moved his palms over Sam's alabaster chest, so fucking perfect, no scars, no imperfections, just like the rest of the vampire. He dodged Sam's mouth, his own glancing off the corner of Sam's and lifted his eyes to Sam's. The heat in his lover's eyes took his breath away and made his blood boil. Dipping his head, he kissed Sam's throat, sucking in his soft skin, nipping and working his way back to his ear. He tipped his tongue into his ear canal, letting his hot and heavy breath's fan over Sam's cheeks. "Show me, Sammy. And call me 'mate.' Wanna hear you say it... wanna feel what you feel... wanna know..." He couldn't explain it, he was still searching for the truth.

Sam's head fell back against the wall, lips parted, breath gasping out. Swallowing hard, Sam opened his eyes to look toward the ceiling before he looked back at Dean. Clenching his teeth together he thought about Dean's request. Call me mate. Could he do that and not lose his heart completely? Sam's fingertips bit into the back of Dean's neck his lower back as the vamprie's grip tightened. "I -" Sam paused, swallowing. "You're my mate, my world and I love you now and into eternity," Sam told him softly, before his eyes closed.

Every word vibrated through Dean, had him fighting for air. It was the truth, he didn't need to ever hear it again, it was the pure and simple truth. "Then love me. Right now, love me," he demanded, mouth pressed against Sam's lips, kissing him lightly, sucking his lower lip into his mouth slowly. "Love me Sam... love your mate."

A low growl tore from Sam's throat as his arms moved to wrap around Dean, pulling him closer, his mouth slanting over Dean's, tongue darting inside to tangle with his hunters. Sam walked them backward a few steps then slowly started to bend, moving them down to the floor. His mouth worked against Dean's, running his tongue up over the backs of his teeth, slanting his mouth flush across Dean's tongue to suckle it, then pushing back inside to tangle with Dean'se as low moans sounded deep in his throat.

His hands moved down Dean's body, mapping him out, sliding against his bare skin, fingertips digging in as he clung to him, pressed their bodies together. Cupping Dean's ass, he lifted the hunter's body slightly, grinding his aching erection against Dean's, groaning at the feel of their cocks sliding together. Fingertips bit into the flesh of Dean's ass, before slipping away to pull up, running over the smooth skin of his sides, one slipping between them to palm Dean's cock as the other slid up under his shoulder.

It was like Sam was everywhere all at once, his large hands roaming over Dean's body, touching him, making him feel alive even as he was only moments away from death. His last time as a human, and Sam was making it count. Dean felt like putty in the vampire's hands, letting him mold him, writhing, responding to his every touch, groaning out his name. "Saaam, God..." his hands clawed the ground when Sam's palm closed over his cock, sending shockwaves through his body.

Dean felt the links of the chains that had held him. He couldn't explain why he did it, but he somehow pulled them across Sam's body, one length over his waist, the other over his shoulder. From where he was laying, under Sam, it looked like they were chained together. He should hate those chain, those bindings... but holy fuck, the dark metal looked so damned hot against the vampire's alabaster skin. Maybe he was looking at Sam the way Sam looked when he was caught in his obsession.

Hooking his legs around Sam's, he lifted himself up, grinding his cock against Sam's palm and body, and bringing his mouth to Sam's. He brushed Sam's mouth with his, then sucked his lower lip into his mouth hard enough that it might be painful.

A low deep moan worked out of Sam's throat before he pulled his head back, only to dip it once again, nipping gently at Dean's jawline, and trailing open mouthed kisses along the bone back to his neck and down.

Sliding his hand away from Dean's shoulder as he pulled back, the chain across his own making a tinkering sound, though it didn't fall, Sam knelt between Dean's legs. Pulling his hand from the hunter's cock, Sam slid his hands up under Dean's ass, lifting his lower body up, shouldering his legs as he leaned in, readjusting his hands on Dean's backside so his thumbs were free, he pulled Dean's ass cheeks apart and let his tongue dart out, licking across his tightly puckered hole.

The sight of Sam's head between his legs and the show of strength, when he'd lifted him up like that, had Dean weak on the inside. Then Sams slick tongue was teasing him, and all Dean could think about was how good it felt, how he wanted... needed more. Braced on his elbows, he lifted his hips, whispering thickly about how much he liked what Sam was doing, begging him not to stop.

Sam's tongue pressed into Dean, lapping at him, pressing deeper and curling as he moaned softly, nipping at the tender sensitive flesh around his hole.

Closing his eyes, Dean reached for his cock and started stroking himself in time with the motions of Sam's tongue. His lips parted, his breaths leaving him in pants as he squirmed, sucking his stomach in when Sam's tongue penetrated inside him. "Oh God... can't take much more... need you... need you Sam," he pleaded.

Sam pulled his tongue and head back, gently lowering Dean's lower body back to the floor, then reached out, batting his hand away from his cock. Wrapping his own large hand around the base, Sam lowered his head and unceremoniously took him deep into his throat, swallowing around him, a low moan breaking from his throat as he pulled his head slowly back and began to pump, his mouth working Dean's cock, humming around his length.

Feet now planted on the floor on either side of Sam's shoulders, Dean gyrated and lifted his hips, watching intently through hooded eyes as his cock disappeared, engulfed almost completely in Sam's mouth. Needing to touch, he ran his hands up and the sides of Sam's neck, and then carded his fingers through his soft hair,fingers clenching around the strands as waves of pleasure wracked his body. He started to say things, to beg, to move his head from side to side, almost incoherent with need.

Pulling his head back Sam let Dean's cock fall from his lips, dipping his head down further to slowly lick up the underside, base to tip, swirling his tongue around the crown, then pulling away as he released Dean's. Slowly, he started to crawl up his body, head dipping to trail open mouthed kisses, to paint Dean's flesh with his tongue from groin to chest as he moved.

The sight and feel of Sam's tongue dragging against his skin, tasting him like that, was so fucking hot, Dean thought he was gonna explode. Then when Sam's mouth closed over his nipple, Dean groaned, his hand cupping the back of Sam's head. This wasn't just sex, he was being made love to... every part of him, like Sam was trying to memorize how he felt and tasted. Would he be that different as a vampire? Taste and feel different to Sam? His heart constricted. Lowering his head, bringing it close to Sam's ear, he asked. "Feels... feels like goodbye. You saying goodbye to me, Sam?" His breaths were so fucking harsh, he had to concentrate to speak clearly over them.

Sam released Dean's nipple, tongue sliding slowly over the hard nub as he sighed out a breath, forehead lowering to Dean's collar before he turned his head to face Dean, eyes fluttering open. "Yes," Sam answered softly, lifting his head and slanting his mouth over Dean's, kissing him hard.

A lump rose in Dean's throat. "Best damn send off," he managed to say before Sam's mouth descended over his. Their tongues tangled, dueled inside and outside their mouths. Dean's fingers dug into Sam's shoulders, his back, pressing over the chain sometimes. His entire body was vibrating as he fucked up against Sam, his cock so fucking hard it felt like a steel rod trapped against Sam's firm belly. "What if... what if I changed my mind? What if I wanted to stop," he asked hotly, mouth slipping to the side of Sam's face.

Sam stilled, breaths panting out as he drew his head back to look down at Dean, "Stop?" he swallowed, "the change?" he dipped his head, lips brushing against Dean's cheekbones, his eye lids. "You can't," Sam told him softly, "once it begins, there is no stopping it," unless I kill you, Sam shook his head, "And if you refuse me, the Voltari..." he pressed his lips together, "Don't do that, I can't bare to watch them kill you." Sam told him softly.

"But you'd stop... now... if I told you?" Dean asked again, his body raging with need... a need that wouldn't be denied, despite his words testing Sam.

Sam's jaw clenched, muscle twitching. "I -" he sighed, his gaze dropping away from Dean's, "Yes." Whatever it too, yes, he would stop.

Dean believed Sam, believed the pain in his eyes, and knew how hard it would be for the vampire who'd been obsessing over him for so long. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. "I think... I think maybe you should fuck me now. You said once you wanted to come inside me and ... claim me at the same time."

Sam sucked in a startled breath, as he turned his head, dark eyes intent on Dean's face as he swallowed hard. "Yeah," he breathed the word, nodding. Heat flooded Sam's system, the feeling swirling and tightening in his gut, making his dead heart ache.

"Let's rock and roll." Dean answered. "It's... time." He felt Sam's fingers bite into his flesh, sucked in his breath but didn't complain.

Sam dipped his head, lips brushing against Dean's lips, then coming back for open mouthed kisses. One arm wrapped around Dean's body, the other lower, sliding under his thigh, hefting it up, knee toward his chest, Sam's hard cock sliding between Dean's ass cheeks and along his tight hole. As his cock teased Dean's entrance, he kissed Dean completely, hotly, passionately, tongues tangling, head sliding from side to side, low moans and grunted groans breaking from his throat.

Dean's senses were overwhelmed. Sam was everywhere, touching him, rearranging his body, right there... there for him. His scent... his taste made Dean's head spin. If a human could be addicted to a person, then he was that human... because he craved Sam with every cell in his body, wanted him that bad. Kissing him back with everything he had, he lifted his hips, pressing his hole against the blunt tip of Sam's cock, needing Sam inside him, showing him what he needed by the motions of his body, and the sounds he made against Sam's mouth.

Sam slowly lifted his head, eyes intent on Dean's, lips parted, breaths panting out as his hand slid from around Dean's thigh, reaching down to grasp his own cock, aligning it with Dean's tight hole. "I love you," Sam whispered softly, before his lips crushed against Dean's once more, his hips thrusting his hard cock into Dean's ass.

"I--" Dean's response was cut off. Between the blinding pain from Sam's cock breaching his tight ring of muscle and invading him, and the pleasure of being filled by Sam, feeling him inside, feeling how hard Sam was and knowing ... by the desperation of his kisses and the motions of his body... how needy he was, time stood still for Dean. The pain eased as he adjusted to Sam's body, instinct took over and time sped up again. Giving himself up to the terrible need torturing him, Dean fucked up against Sam, kissing him back with everything he had. His legs locked around the vampire's waist, hands wrapping around the lengths of chain on either side of his body, using both to drag Sam close each time the vampire thrust. Harder, longer strokes, sending Dean careening out of control, making him clench around his lover's cock as he mindlessly writhed.

As Sam was pulled down harder against Dean, his arm around Dean moved, sliding down between them to wrap his hand around Dean's cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts dee[ into his human. Pulling his head back slightly, knowing his human needed to breath, Sam trailed open mouth kisses along Dean's jaw, back to his neck, along his throat to the pulse point in his neck, his tongue darting out as the sound of Dean's heartbeats echoed inside his head, pulsing his tongue against the tender flesh. Sam's teeth ached, blood pounded in his temples, low moans and soft groans tearing from his throat.

Dean whimpered, his body reacting to the presence of Sam's mouth on his throat... his blood rushing just a little faster for the vampire, pulsing just a little louder. He arched his neck, trying to chase Sam's wet tongue, rubbing against his mouth... offering himself up... begging to be claimed, even as Sam was claiming him with each thrust of his hips, fucking him harder and harder, Dean drawing him inside, pulling on him. He was on fire, burning up. "Can't... can't take more, Sam. Gonna come... gonna..."

Liquid heat moved through Sam's veins, pooled low in his belly, his fangs enlongating, lips parting slowly, brushing against Dean's neck. "Come," Sam whispered thickly, against the sensitive flesh, as his own balls drew up tight, muscles clenching as he opened his mouth and sank his fangs deep into Dean's jugular.

At Sam's command, Dean's entire body tensed, his balls drawing up tight against his body, and then releasing hard, shouting out Sam's name as he came, wet heat smeared between their bucking bodies. They were both still coming when a searing pain had him crying out. "Anghhh..." If he hadn't been locked in the grasp of lust, he might have tried to fight, but within seconds, new sensations, erotic, indescribable, were shooting through his veins and making him buck up against Sam all over again. "Oh God... baby.... need..." It was like a thousand tongues, licking him, from the inside and out, burning him, enflaming his desire and all he could hear echoing in his head was Sam's soft voice, calling him mate, claiming him.

Sam's arm wrapped tightly around his human as a low growled groan tore from his throat, his body continuing to convulse, the sensation of orgasming still echoing through him, even as his body was spent, having filled Dean's ass with his spunk. Blood rushed over his tongue, down Dean's his throat. Warm and wet, sweeter than any candy, finer than any wine, smoother than brandy. It tasted like tears and strength, courage and love, laughter long dead and sunshine that was soon to be forgotten. Tears filled Sam's eyes behind closed lids as he drank. Fingertips digging into Dean's flesh as he clung to his hunter, his mate tightly.

"Mmm... good," Dean muttered, moaning as Sam lapped at his throat and held him like he'd never let go, kept him safe and sheltered, from pain, from the Voltari, from every threat.

Sam's eyes rolled up into his head as a low moan sounded in his throat. Dean tasted so good... so damn good, he thought he might just cum again with the sensations shooting through his system. As he drank, his hips started to buck against Dean, his cock thrusting into him harder, needing him.

Sensing Sam was getting turned on all over again, Dean groaned and started to move against him... wanting this to be as beautiful as the last time they'd made love. Instead, the area where Sam's mouth was working against his skin started to sting hard, the sting spreading..., starting to burn like a hot iron was going over his flesh. What the... "No... Sam... oh fuck, Sam... hurts ... burns, Sam?!"

Sam drank deeper, moaning against his throat. Good so good...

Dean started to struggle, started to kick, trying to knock Sam off him as the pain increased in intensity. "Something's wrong... Sam, it's wrong... SAM!," eyes rolled back, he started to shout as every part of him felt like he'd been dipped in some acid pit and was dissolving into nothingness.

No, not wrong. Right, so damn right. Oh God.... Sam fought to pin Dean under him better, continuing to thrust into him as he drank, never stopping, continuously sucking, licking, lapping at the blood that oozed out, spilling over Sam's tongue and down his throat. So warm and rich, thick and strong. Perfect. Just like Sam knew it would be.

"Sam..." his voice grew weaker, even in its accusation, as the pain started to dull and was replaced by a coldness like he'd never felt before.

Slowly, Sam pulled his fangs from Dean's neck, feeling Dean's body shudder and tremble. "Shshsh, I got ya," Sam whispered softly before cutting open the flesh of his forearm at the wrist and offering it to Dean's cold lips. "Drink, baby," Sam told him softly, nuzzling against the side of Dean's head, "drink, it's alright."

His body was almost paralyzed. He didn't even know if he could swallow. He didn't wanna... a part of him just wanted to die. Why? He couldn't mouth the word, but he stared up at his so called mate who was supposed to protect him, not hurt him like this.

Sam waited a moment for Dean to latch onto his arm, when he didn't, Sam pumped his hand, clenching it into a fist, then releasing, making the blood drip into Dean's mouth.

"Come on, baby, swallow it, it's okay, I gotcha." Sam told him softly, leaning down to kiss Dean's jaw. "Drink," Sam whispered into Dean's ear, "Be mine forever."

Purified By Innocence, 3/?[NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-11-20T19:37:31Z

Many thanks to naisica who not only allowed us to use her lovely manip but added text for us. If you haven't seen her art... run, don't walk.

Fandom: SPN - AU - Sam/Dean are not brothers
Title: Purified By Innocence
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) and Fetish sam_dean_fetish
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; Slash; One attempted rape scene (not BY the boys)

Characters: The characters are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.

Summary: Lord Dean Winchester belongs to the secret arm of the Knights Templer, fighting supernatural horrors and demons that plague the land. Knights like Dean must be paired with an innocent who can neutralize the dark taint that builds up inside them due to their close contact with evil. Dean has selected the boy, Sam, as his innocent, and goes to claim him from the monks who have groomed and sheltered him for that purpose.
Author's Note: We have not tried to make the language sound overly medieval. Think of the Herculese t.v. show, you have the ancient Greece setting but more modern lingo is used. However, we did not go for slapstick or anything.

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

The warrior awakened early, before the cock crowed. His sleep had been strangely peaceful. Not for years had he slept as deeply, with no nightmares to wake him. The answer was at his side. Laying naked, and also peaceful in slumber.

Dean drew Sam close, pulling him into his arms, settling his head on his chest. He kissed his temple, held him with a gentleness that did not hint at the fires of desire still burning within him.

Sam's head turned as he licked his lips, lashes fluttering as he slowly opened them, blinking awake. A frown of confusion creased his brow as he lay there a moment before everything, the events of the day before, where he was, and who he was with, as well his state of undress all coming back to him in an instant that sucked the breath from his lungs. He looked up at his master. "Good Morn, my lord," he muttered out, voice sleep rough and deep.

Dean searched the boy's face for signs that he'd cried, but seeing nothing, let out a deep breath. "It appears to be," he answered with a slight smile. "You may sleep for a while longer, if you want." He was more than pleased not to see signs of fear from Sam but knew that might come after sleep was chased from his eyes.

Sam yawned, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he did, then rubbed at his eyes. "It's alright, I normally would be chased from bed soon for morning prayers anyway," he offered a small smile, the hand that had been at his eyes now tentatively touching, laying on his master's chest. Sam bit his lip thoughtfully as he looked at his master. "Did - did you sleep well?" He knew, or at least he thought he knew, that they were suppose to have, coupled last night, and since they did not, he was unsure how or where things stood.

He merely nodded in response, his hand stroking up and down Sam's side.

Sam pressed his lips together as he tore his gaze from Dean's face, looking down. "Are - are you going to take me back?... to the monastery I mean," he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, as he slowly raised his gaze. "I failed you," he admitted softly.

"How did you fail me?" He wondered if that was fear or disappointment that he saw in the still sleepy set of eyes searching his own. "By making me control the monster within myself?" He shook his head. "You're done with that place. Your place is with me now, you must get used to it." His fingers tightened possessively over what was his, what had always been his.

Emotions danced in Sam's eyes, different ones... from sadness at his being a failure, to confusion, to a mixture of home-sickness and relief to finally settle on acceptance as he nodded his head slightly, his eyes still intent on his master's. "And the answer is yes," Sam told him, a small tentative smile pulling at his lips, "I do think you have stunning eyes." He swallowed hard, unsure that he should have said the words, but trying to have some semblance of a free, maybe teasing, playful banter with this man who was now, it seemed, his whole world.

"Do you, now?" Dean gave a chuckle. "It's a good thing, then. Much better than your distaste for warts... and bad teeth and..." He moved his leg slowly between Sam's, resting his thigh in the juncture of his legs and getting the answer to the question he hadn't voiced... did Sam wake in a state of arousal. "What about the rest of me? Am I am acceptable?"

Sam's smiled widened as his master chuckled, dimples showing, hazel eyes sparkling. Sam's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as he rolled his head, his face toward Dean's stomach to hide away from his words being repeated again, his embarrassment that his master had heard him. He nodded his head slightly, making his nose poke Dean in the stomach as he did, before Sam turned his head again to look up at him, "Easy for you to tease me, you did not see the ogres I did that came to the monastery! I swear they had green teeth and three eyes!" Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes.

Sam's laugter died away as he felt Dean's knee between his legs pressing against his cock, the pressure not totally uncomfortable, but foreign, making Sam shift his hips slightly, frowning a little as he did, before his master's new questions stole his attention. He looked Dean over, brows drawn together as if he were indeed studying him intently, "Well, you are not fat, but muscular," his gaze darted back to Dean's eyes, "which is good, nice," he smiled slightly. "You do not smell bad, but rather like the woods, I find that I like the smell, it's different but not distasteful. And your lips," Sam looked down, a blush stealing over his features. He shook his head, "You do not taste bad."

Moving his thigh in circles as he rocked slightly, satisfied that Sam was hardening under the small, barely perceptible movements he made, Dean continued the conversation. "You're pleasing to the eyes as well. Though you were a nice looking boy, I was afraid you might grow a large beak-like nose, or horns. There was a bit of the devil in your sparkling eyes," he confided. It wasn't the sort of joke most told, but he dealt with demons enough that he was used to jesting about evil. "You're not hiding anything from me, are you?" He increased the pressure.

Sam sucked in a breath as he raised up just slightly, biting his lip and frowning for a moment, the pressure against his groin making him feel funny in ways he never had before, his breaths were coming a bit faster, he was starting to feel slightly breathless like he had carried some of the baskets of grapes from the vineyards and there was a knot growing in his lower belly, a near ache.

Focusing his attention back on the conversation, Sam smiled slightly as he shook his head against Dean's chest. "No, no horns," he chuckled, "and I don't think my nose is beak-like," he nearly crossed his eyes trying to look at it.

"Don't... it could stay that way," Dean said, his anxiety real. "You're beautiful the way you are, right now." He watched him closely, listening as his breathing became more erratic. "We'll be home tomorrow... another day and a half's ride." His own breaths were becoming labored as he became aroused in turn, grinding against Sam just a little harder. "I think you'll like it. You'll have your own room, but you will share my bed every night that I am home."

Sam immediately stopped trying to look at his nose when Dean told him to, a smile on his face. The monks had always told him the same thing whenever he made that face, but it hadn't stopped him from doing it from time to time behind their backs. He pressed his lips together, his hips moving as he tried to find a more comfortable position, but only finding more ache. "Wh - where is 'home', exactly?" he asked, his words starting to sound even more breathless. Finally Sam raised his head, bracing his weight on his forearms as his head hung, his teeth clenched together. "Something's wrong, I don't -" he looked up at his master and shook his head slowly, his expression pained, "I don't feel well." He licked his lips, hands clenching into fists, "it aches."

About to answer him, Dean's breath was sucked out of him. "Aches... where does it ache, Sam?" He bit his lower lip, willing the boy to tell him.

Sam bit his lip as he looked up at his master. "I - my," a slow blush covered his cheeks as he hung his head again, "stomach, lower area, I -" Sam rolled away, onto his back, one hand started to go to his groin but stopped, clenching the bed linens instead, knowing he was not allowed to touch there. Sam's neck arched back, lips parted, breaths panting out, as his hips moved in slow small thrusts of their own accord. "I think - I think I was poisoned. I felt funny last night," he told his master, words breathless and soft as his head rolled on the pillow.

"Let me see." Feeling only slightly guilty, Dean peeled the covers back, watching Sam writhing with no relief. "I know how to help. Trust me?"

Sam nodded, as he looked at his master, eyes pleading with him to help him, to cure him.

Placing his hand between Sam's knees, Dean slowly made his way up in circular motions. He could see Sam growing even more aroused as his hand neared his cock. "It's aching more now, isn't it? Throbbing? Making you a bit... crazy mad?" he asked, just barely touching Sam's sack, giving it a light squeeze, and moving a little higher.

Sam's breaths came faster, his neck arching, his body moving more, thrusting and writhing, his hands gripped the bed linens in white knuckled grasps, as he grit his teeth. Sam nodded, "Worse, Worse! You're making it worse!" He squeezed his eyes closed, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Please, my lord, I need, a healing potion! Please!" Sam opened his eyes staring up at his knight, fear for his well being clear in their glazed depths.

He'd intended to take more time, but could not when his innocent moved so, pleaded so intently as if fearing he would die of pleasure. Closing his fist around Sam's cock, he squeezed, released and squeezed. "This is not pain Samuel." Moving his hand up and down, pumping him slowly, Dean leaned in and licked across Samuel's lips, following the same trail that the boy's own maddening tongue had taken. "Don't fight it... trust me," he repeated, biting back a groan as he felt wetness drip from Sam's tip.

Sam's head rolled on the pillow as his breaths panted out, his chest rising and falling each time. He tried to follow what his master was saying, tried to make himself understand the words, but they made no sense to him, how was this not pain? It was nothing Sam had ever felt before and it was driving him mad, made him ache and feel as though he were unable to keep still, his body squirming against the bed. Sam pulled a leg up, foot flat against the bed, only to let it slowly slid back down, his hips rolling, thrusting.

He released the linens with one hand, lifting it up near his face, hand clenched into a fist as his master touched him, there, squeezed him and moved his hand along his length. Sam gasped in a breath his neck arching, before his entire back arched off the bed, a low groan leaving him. "Make it go away," his head turned on the pillows, sweat dotting his brow. "Please, my lord, master, D- Dean, make it go away!"

God. Dean wasn't sure how to keep himself from attacking his innocent, showing him all the mysteries of coupling at once. The way he was moving and pleading. The scent of sex in the air. It made his head spin, it made the darkness stir within him. The need to claim became stronger. No... by God he was not going to take that route. Fighting the darkest of his desires, he moved his entire body between Sam's restless legs. Using the flat of one hand against Sam's stomach to keep him laying in place, he opened his mouth and guided Sam's cock inside.

Sam sucked in a loud gasp of air, his head coming up off the pillows, eyes wide as he looked down at himself, at his master with his mouth on that part of him. His breath was knocked from his lungs as his head fell back onto the pillows, trying to gulp in some much needed air. Die, he really was gonna die from this. He was going to black out and never wake up again.

First Dean sucked only at the beading liquid on the slit at Sam's crown. "This is pleasure, not pain... not pain," he repeated, moving his open mouth over Sam's tip, then sucking him inside. He sucked a little harder, taking more of him in. His innocent tasted just the way he had always dreamed... set his blood on fire the way he knew he would.

A long whimpered cry broke from Sam's throat as he felt warm wetness at the tip of his cock, surround him, sucking. "Oh my God..." Sam groaned, his head rolling on the pillow. His master told him not to cross his eyes and then he did this?

Pulling off, but still pumping with his hand, Dean looked at Sam. "You may rut in my mouth... it will help," he promised, licking his lips and opening his mouth in invitation.

Sam looked up at his knight through mere slits, eyelids heavy. Rut in his mouth? Sam groaned, eyes rolling up into his head, no, he couldn't, he shouldn't, but his hips seemed to have a mind of their own as they lifted off the bed, thrusting into that warm moist heat. A deep cry of pleasure tearing from Sam's lips as he thrust into Dean's mouth. "Omygod... Ohmygod... ohmygod..." Sam panted out the forbidden words as his hips continued to move, thrusting his aching hard cock into Dean's mouth, his head rolling slowly back and forth on the pillow.

Dean had been afraid his innocent would balk. When he didn't... when he came to him, when he trusted him to take care of his need, a thrilling humm went through Dean's entire body. Sam was his to take care of, and he would. He sucked him, squeezing the base of his cock, twisting his wrist in tandem with his mouth's up and down motions. From the time that he was eighteen, he'd known he needed Sam, needed him to live, to find salvation. Now... now he could show Sam that Sam needed him too, that he could ease the needs the boy had never known he had.

All of his desire. All of his need for his innocent was suddenly focused. Dean gave him everything he had, swallowing his cock down, taking him all the way back in his throat, moving harder... faster. Sounds started to break from Dean... as if he were the one on the receiving end. He didn't care, it mattered not. Cum... cum... let me help you, cum.

Sam's world was spinning out of control, he couldn't draw enough air, he felt light headed and yet not, his cock ached and yet it was a delicious ache, which just didn't make sense. Up was down and down was up, and all the while, through it all, there was the tight warm wet mouth and his master's hand that kept pushing him deeper into that place where he'd never been where he was afraid to go.

His breaths panted out so hard he was nearly hyperventilating, head thrashing on the pillows, his hands hand moved to grip the sheets tight as his hips bucked so hard they were coming off the bed , his muscles tightening, neck arched back, lips parted, odd sounds breaking from his throat, sounds he didn't recognize, but he didn't care anymore. "Sssstop! Please, stop! Some... something's happening! Oh God, something's happening!" Sam felt heat rush through his veins to pool low in his belly, his balls drawing up tight, his muscles tensed and seemed to lock, face flushed a deep crimson, eyes squeezed tightly closed, grunts and groans sounding from his throat through gritted teeth.

Suddenly Sam's back arched, shoving his cock deep into his masters mouth, then his back fell onto the bed, as that warmth, that heat, left his body through his cock, his spunk shooting down his knights throat. "OH GOOD GOD!" Sam screamed the words, his body writhing, thrusting his hips as he rode out his first orgasm.

Despite the shouts, Dean never let Sam go. He kept him in his mouth, lips carefully covering his teeth, sucking... jealously guarding... swallowing every drop that left Sam's body. Once Sam stopped moving, he pulled off his still semi-stiff cock, and licked it. then kissed it before releasing it and letting it fall across Sam's thigh. Crawling up Sam's body, bracing his weight on his elbows on either side of the youth's body, he looked down into his face. "It's a miracle. I cured you. I think I deserve a kiss."

Sam looked up at his master, breaths panting out, his body trembling, a look of disbelief on his face. Sam shook his head, "What," he swallowed hard. "What did you do to me?" he asked him, licking his lips and nodding. "Teach - teach me to kiss?... The way you would like me to."

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Dean lowered his mouth over Sam's, touching briefly, lifting up. "Open for me. Let me inside, like I allowed you inside," he whispered thickly. The instant those scarlet lips parted, Dean's tongue delved inside. He stroked the roof of Sam's mouth, then tangled their tongues together, playing with him, pulling his tongue out and starting all over. It didn't take long for his innocent to learn and to have Dean groaning into his mouth. He was sharply aware that Sam was naked under him, that his still wet cock was caught between their bodies, and that it would not take much to make him plead for aid again, if he wanted.

Sam's hand slowly released the bed linens as Dean kissed him, first to move to Dean's side, to touch him lightly before laying on Dean's back. Soon, Sam's other hand moved to join the first so that his arms were wrapped around his knight as they kissed. The whole idea of the kiss had been odd, different, but soon Sam learned that it was a lot like a playful wrestling match between tongues. His master's moans made Sam feel a sense of pride that he had apparently gotten something right.

When their lips parted Sam smiled up at him slightly as he licked his lips. "I -" he bit his lip, "When you need me, I think, I wouldn't be too afraid to," he tore his gaze away and blew out a breath, feeling his cheeks burn. Taking a deep breath, Sam quickly mumbled out the words. "I can try to do for you what you did to me." There, he'd said it. Slowly he raised his eyes to look back up at his master, worrying his bottom lip.

"Hold that thought until tonight." Dean knew they would be roused any moment. "Why don't you practice? He stuck his tongue out, a challenge lighting his eyes, as his hands went to Sam's hips and he rolled them over so that his innocent lay on top of him. "Start sucking. Mmm?"

Sam frowned as he looked down at Dean now that he had rolled them over. "P - practice?" Sam asked him, his eyes lowering from Dean's eyes to his tongue sticking out of his mouth. Sam frowned down at his master's tongue as though it were a task to be dealt with and mastered. Deep concentration creased his brow as Sam looked at it, tilting his head this way and that, before he lowered his head and parted his lips, taking Dean's tongue into his mouth and sucking for all he was worth, releasing just slightly, enough so that he could move his mouth up slightly, then taking his tongue deeper again. Sucking hard once more and swallowing due to too much saliva in his mouth, he was afraid at any minute he was going to start drooling or something else utterly mortifying.

"Mmm... mmm," Dean groaned. He loved the enthusiasm with which Sam embarked on his practice session, and he could tell that when his mouth covered his cock, he would be in heaven. But the suction was a bit much for his tongue, so he pulled it back inside his own mouth, then put his hand behind Sam's head and started to kiss him again. His hands made their way up and down his body, over his bare ass, tickling him softly.

When their lips parted, Sam smiled down at his master . "I did, okay?" he asked him. "Brother John used to say all he had to do was show me something once and I caught on well," Sam told him, biting his lip nervously, hoping that his ability to pick up new tasks also went for this area of life as well.

The door to their room suddenly burst open and Sam nearly jumped up to the ceiling, quickly scurrying back and reaching for the linens to cover himself, his eyes wide as he looked toward the door.

"I trust you are nearly ready to ride?" Peter asked, looking from Dean to Sam and back, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Dean didn't bother with the bed sheets, instead sitting up, and merely putting his forearm across his hips in a modicum of modesty. "You should knock. I no longer have tavern wenches warming my bed."

Peter nodded, looking between the two men, one young and shy, the other, a hardened warrior with a new light in his eyes. "Shall I have your breakfast sent to you?"

"No, we will join you."

"You consummated..."

Dean looked up at him, this time the warrior was back, his eyes a frosty green.

"Alright." Peter retreated from the room, closing the door with a sigh.

Only a moment later two servants knocked and brought in two small basins of water and left.

"Let's wash up, we have a long day," Dean said, taking Sam's hand and pulling him out of bed. "And Brother John... he's a wise man." As they washed up, Dean pretended not to notice Sam still clutched the linens. "Your new clothes are there," he said, nodding at the table.

Sam looked toward the table Dean had indicated, his eyes widening, not having seen them before. "Someone was in here!?" he asked, his voice nearly rising an octave as he clutched the linens tighter.

"Only for a moment. When you were... practicing," Dean grinned. "Nothing they haven't seen before, Sam. If it makes you feel better, I will make sure no one ever walks in without knocking."

Sam's eyes were wide as he looked at Dean and nodded. "Yes, please." He turned his head to look at the door then back at Dean, "I - my back side was - and they..." A deep stain spread over Sam's cheeks as he looked down, lifting a hand to run it through his hair before he started to splash some water on his face, the linens held securely around his hips, either by one hand or the other, or when he was using both hands to wash, by leaning a hip against the table so they wouldn't fall.

Finishing, Sam turned toward the fresh clothes that had been brought for him, then looked over at Dean, then back at the clothes, biting his lip. "I, um, what I mean is -" Sam blushed again hanging his head. Okay, now how was he suppose to ask his master to turn around so he could dress? Was he even allowed to?

"Hmm?" Dean had already started to dress. "Ah... you want an assistant? I was going to get you one when we got home. I'll call a servant to help you." Getting up off the bed, he pulled his breeches up and headed for the door.

Sam's eyes widened, "No! Wait!" he held out a hand toward Dean, as he hurried after him, grabbing him by the arm. "It's not that. I don't want a - no, I was," Sam hung his head worrying his lip a moment before he looked up at Dean again. "I was embarrassed to change with you standing there, I -" he clamped his mouth closed. "No one has ever seen me get dressed or undressed before," he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as hazel eyes searched green hoping he understood.

"I've seen you do both." Seeing the disbelief in Sam's eyes, he added, "what do you think all those holes are for in the walls of the baths at the monastery, and in the other room? We... others like me, we check on the progress of our innocents. Besides, I did have my eyes open this morning when I..." he gestured in the general direction of Sam's groin, a smile spreading across his face.

Sam's mouth fell open, his eyes wide, a deep red blush stealing not only over his cheeks but spreading down his neck. He was beyond embarrassed he was mortified. Taking a staggering step backward, Sam turned around abruptly and hung his head, eyes closed as he battled the emotions running through him, fighting back the need to cry. He was not going to cry darn it! He was not ten anymore!

Clearing his throat, Sam nodded slightly, "I - I see." his voice raw, quiet, obviously upset. Reaching out with a trembling hand, Sam grabbing his new clothes and walked back toward the bed so he could dress, any and all lighthearted feeling he had been experiencing gone. He felt dirty, used, confusion and embarrassment churned in his gut making him feel nearly ill.

Sensing the change in Sam, Dean narrowed his eyes. "You want me to leave? This is your problem?" His frown deepened. That would have to change, and it would. Walking across the room, he pulled on his own tunic but left his sword. "Don't tarry, you have to break your fast. We have a long trip." Closing the door behind him, he strode down the hall to the stairs.

Sam didn't answer the question put to him. Apparently it did not matter what he wanted. Apparently it had never mattered. He was whatever this man wanted him to be, and he was to do whatever he wanted him to do. If he wanted to watch him dress and undress, then it would happen.. it already had. The monks, the very people he had trusted like his family had allowed it to happen, never telling Sam any of it. He wondered when else he had been spied upon. Was it every time he undressed and dressed? When he washed? Did his master allow others to watch him too? Sam's head rose as he looked up at the ceiling. Oh God...

He squeezed his eyes closed and tried not to think about it, about his shame, tried to fight back the desire to curl up in a ball and die. In the end, Sam's legs buckled and he wound up sitting on the floor beside the bed, his face turned into it as he cried silently into the bedding.

*

When five minutes turned to ten and still Sam had not appeared in the tavern where the rest were eating eggs, cheese and bread, Dean got up. Taking some bread and cheese, he stormed back up the stairs, and pushed the door open. "What is keeping you?"

Seeing Sam on the floor, he set the food down and went to him, lifting him up and raising up to the bed. "What has happened? What?" He asked, knowing no one had come into the room. "Samuel?" He cupped the boy's chin and lifted his face. "Answer me."

Sam sniffled, having cried himself out a few minutes earlier, but having been too embarrassed to dress and go down stairs. Sam looked down, avoiding his master's gaze, his bottom lip quivering before he managed to make it stop as he bit his lip. "Nothing." he answered softly.

"Answer me," Dean repeated, brooking no rebellion. "You are to come to me with your problems, I will solve every one of them. Tell me." He dragged his gaze from Sam's quivering lips before he was tempted to dip his head down and steal a kiss.

Sam huffed as he raised a hand to wipe at his eyes with the back of a hand, still refusing to look up at his master. Even when that problem is you?... What you did?

"I - I never knew," Sam shook his head slowly, staring off, unblinking, unseeing. He gave a harsh laugh, "But then, why would we think it a possibility? We trusted the monks completely, thought of them as family." His voice dipped lower, softer, haunted. "What kind of family lets men watch you dress and undress without your knowledge?" again a harsh laugh worked out of him. "What else did you watch me do? Bathe? How about relieve myself? Did you watch that? And when I was sweaty from working and had to go and change during mid day? Were you hiding inside the monastery? Waiting for the right moment?" he huffed and shook his head. "A thousand baths in the pool at the monastery would not make me feel clean now."

Sam's eyes suddenly widened, his eyes darting up to look at Dean's face, mouth open in shock, "You - you were there! That day! That was why!..." his hand rose to cover his mouth as he scooted away from Dean. Pulling his hand away from his mouth to brace against the bed, Sam looked at him with wide eyes that were starting to fill with tears again, "Oh my God..."

Dean tried to understand, he really did. "Once, maybe twice a year I came to see how you were. I saw you scrape your knee. Watched you grow. And when you were older, I watched you bathe. I made sure you were alright, I paid for your keep, I waited until you turned eighteen, yes... that was as it should be. Now enough of this... these tears. You belong to me, know this. Nothing that happens between us is wrong."

As Sam listed to Dean a coldness settled in the pit of his stomach. Any hope, any thought that he could, would be friends with his master, care for his master, maybe even one day love his master, gone out the window with those words. 'You belong to me, know this.'

Yes, Sam knew that now. Bought and paid for, like a parcel. Like he had felt like the day before when he had been handed over on horseback to the other man. Sam clenched his jaw as he gave a curt nod, tearing his gaze away from his master's. "I understand, master, I am, sorry." Sam told him, before sliding off the bed, letting the linens fall as he did.

Embarrassment burned Sam's cheeks, but he refused to let it show as he reached for his new clothes, his back to Dean and began to dress with not another word. Bought and paid for, a belonging, right. Sam would remember his place from now on. "I did not mean to interrupt you breaking your fast, master." Sam told him softly as he dressed, "forgive me."

He wasn't a stupid man. Dean realized Sam had reverted to calling him master not because he had been taught to, but it was either sarcasm or rebellion. "Do not call me that again. I told you, it is Dean or my Lord or your Lordship. Samuel." He waited for his innocent to look at him. "I never claimed to be a saint. The reason I need you is quite the opposite. You are the light... I am the dark."

I never asked for a saint. Had just hoped to not be looked at as a belonging. Sam pulled the tunic over his head and sighed, as he nodded, "Yes," he pressed his lips together. Dean was too personal, it showed feeling, a relationship, caring. My lord, no, he would not call him that either, though he called other knights that he decided this one was not worthy of the same title as his savior. "Your Lordship."

Dean's mouth tightened as Sam chose to address him the way most servants would. He gave him a curt nod, and once he was dressed, allowed the servants to come in to gather the rest of his belongings. Seeing the stubborn angle of Sam's chin, he pointed at the food he'd brought. "That's for you. Come down as soon as you are done." Striding out of the room, he didn't look back. Maybe he should have listened to Peter and the others. Taken him, made him his, and finished this. His kindness certainly had not been appreciated.

Sam glanced over at the platter of food and nodded. He wasn't hungry, not anymore. When he had awoken, he had been staved, now he didn't care if he ever ate again.

Finishing with his new clothes and figuring out the last few fastenings himself, something he would have asked D -- his lordship to do, had he been, well, had Sam still wanted anything to do with him other than getting over with what he had to get over with. Grabbing a handful of grapes from the tray and some of the morning bread, Sam turned and started out the door and down the steps.

Outside, Dean spoke with the other men who'd gathered, some mounted and others still making preparations. One of them reported that there was word of a contingency of knights having left Haverosham Castle. It could mean nothing, or it could mean yet another who wanted to destroy him would try to take his innocent. "Then we ride faster so they will have ridden for nothing," he said decisively.

All eyes turned back to the inn as Sam walked out. Dean motioned for him to come, and then helped him onto his horse.

Feeling the stares, Sam wondered which ones his lordship had brought with him to ogle at him through holes in the wall at the monastery. Which ones knew him top to bottom? Did they all? Sam hung his head as he shoved the last of his grapes into his mouth. Once on the animals back, Sam reached down to pet the beasts neck. "I used to care for animals like you back home," he whispered to the beast, planting a rather loud kiss on the side of her neck before rising back to sit up straight once again, his eyes meeting Dean's a dare in them for his master to say one thing to him about kissing the animal, just one and he was going to let him have it, consequences be damned.

Dean pressed his lips together in order to prevent laughter from bubbling up, but his eyes... his eyes were filled with merriment, as he mounted behind Sam, pulled on the reins and they left the inn behind them. "I used to be a little boy once, too." One small motion, and he had their horse racing now, the wind taking their breaths away.

"Really? You weren't --" Sam's sentence was left hanging, unable to finish the sarcastic comeback of asking if he hadn't been hatched that age, as the horse raced, the wind nearly knocked out of his lungs. Jerk.

* * *

It was well past midday when they left the road, seeking the shelter of the woods, to rest the horses. Like the others, Dean dismounted, then put his arms up to Sam's waist to help him down.

Sam frowned slightly, not wanting to have to have Dean help him do anything, but his inner thighs and ass were so sore, he wasn't so sure he could have gotten off the horse on his own unless he just let himself fall off and that definitely would not have been a good idea.

Reaching down toward Dean, Sam let him help him off the house, his hands fisting the material of Dean's tunic, before Dean released him and Sam started to stumble forward, his legs all but wanting to collapse out from under him. Eyes wide, lips parted, he looked at Dean for help as he started to fall, and thankfully in a blink, Dean was there catching him.

Sam was surprised at his body's lack of ability to handle something he had thought he would have had no problem with, it was just riding on a horse after all. "Thank - thank you, De -" Sam swallowed and looked down, nearly forgetting himself, his place, "your Lordship."

Dean tried not to bristle at the fact his innocent was still holding a grudge. "Shake your legs out," he said, an arm around Sam's waist. "You're just not used to having them in that position. I'll teach you to ride on your own when we're home."

Some of the others started to walk away. Dean turned to Sam, "I'm sure you need to relieve yourself. Walk with me." When he saw that Sam had found his land legs, he released him, though reluctantly. "Your stomach was shouting for food." His hand had been on Sam's stomach for much of the ride, and he wasn't surprised because his innocent has probably ignored his instruction to eat breakfast.

Sam hung his head in embarrassment as he followed after Dean. "I didn't eat much this morn, didn't want to keep you waiting," he mumbled softly. He would have added that he was a good eater and more than once had been told by the monks that he alone could eat them out of house and home, but he didn't. After all, what does one care how their possession eats?

When Dean stopped, Sam frowned and licked his lips looking around, "Here?" You want me to relieve myself here? With you standing there?" Sam asked him, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other as he bit his lip.

"Preferably," Dean grinned, "but you may give me your back if you want." Having no qualms himself, he started to open up his own breeches. "There is no reason to be shy with me. Out here, people piss and discuss the sale of livestock at the same time," he pointed out. "You'll get used to it."

Sam swallowed, making a slight face. He doubted he would ever 'get use to it', but he didn't argue. With a deep sigh, knowing that he likely had no choice in the matter, Sam turned his back to Dean and started unfastening his breeches, frowning and fumbling with the fastenings a few moments before he finally got them open. His robes and brais alone were much easier to deal with then these clothes that Dean had given him, though he had to admit that they were quite nice, even if he had to fight to get out of them.

Finishing with his business, Sam quickly laced up his brais and started fastening the breeches once again, muttering under his breath about how one needed three hands to work them, though he refused to ask for help. Refused to let Dean know he was having any problem, refused to say anything.

Dean waited, watching Sam struggle. Watching and waiting for him to ask for assistance or say something. His patience at an end, he walked over, in front of Sam and pushing his hands away, laced his breeches up. Pulling his tunic down, he started to re-knot the belt so it sat right. "How long should I expect your silence to go on?"

Sam looked at Dean, jaw clenched for a moment before answering, "Does it matter? After all, my silence makes me no less pure, that is after all, all you need me for," Sam said, before tearing his gaze away and looking down. "Thank you, your Lordship."

"I see. So I am back to being an 'ogre.' Someone who doesn't care about your feelings or want your company." He shook his head. "I will let this pass because you know no better. You haven't seen enough. But you are wrong." He nodded toward the path back to the others, and then followed Sam as he walked. What did this innocent want of him? Dean had no clue. There was no time to talk things through, but when they got home...

Sam frowned as he walked. His master made no sense. He was the one who had pushed his feelings aside. He was the one who had not cared how much what he had done, what the monks had allowed him to do had hurt him, had made him feel dirty and ashamed. And he was the one who had made him sound like a possession, a thing, a belonging, not a person. Not someone to care about, who could, would care for him, if he let him. It was he, not Sam, and yet now he claimed that those words were never spoken, that Sam was just making this up on his own? He raised a hand to his brow rubbing it as he walked, unable to understand this.

They reached the others and Sam turned, his eyes intent on Dean's face, and answered in a whisper, "when," he licked his lips and sighed, shaking his head, "I do not want to see you as an ogre."

Dean didn't flinch away from his innocent's words. He'd had much worse directed to him. He was a bit saddened that Sam believed all those things about him but maybe time would change that. There were many knights who relegated their innocents to the background, using them for one purpose only, but Dean had hoped for more. A life companion like his father before him had found. He motioned for food to be brought over.

"Sit. Have something to eat," he said, letting himself down onto the trunk of a tree that was bent to the ground. He held a wooden bowl out, then whispered softly, "do not make me lose face in front of my men. Wage your battle with me when we are alone."

Sam frowned as he reached for the food offered him. He was not trying to fight, to argue. He was trying to say that he had hoped for more. Did his knight not understand that? With a sigh, Sam merely nodded. "Yes, your Lordship," he muttered softly, taking a bite of bread.

Dean gritted his teeth. If he heard 'Lordship' one more time... He was more than glad that Peter joined them.

"How do you like all this adventuring? You should get your fill of it before Lord Winchester," he slapped Dean's back. "Locks you up behind new walls."

"Peter, let him eat."

Sam looked up at Peter, lips parted before he looked over at Dean. Locks me up behind new walls? Sam pressed his lips together as he looked back down at his bread and nodded. "The adventure is more than one such as myself could ever hope for, my Lord." Sam answered softly.

Dean dropped his bread and stood up. Peter merited a 'my Lord' and yet he... Striding over to the group of men eating closer to the horses, he started talking to them about the remainder of the trip. He also instructed that once they arrived at their next destination, two should ride ahead to the castle and bring back a contingency of another ten knights. He had a feeling... and it wasn't going away.

Peter dipped his bread into the mushy mixture at the bottom of the bowl, and scooped it up. "I've know Dean a long time. Since he was this high," he said, slicing his hand though the air at about the height of his knees. "His father was like a brother to me, may God rest his soul." He took a deep breath. "He's a good man. Except for his jests."

Sam nodded as he ate, his head bowed. Slowly looking up at Peter, Sam licked his lips. "Has, his Lordship ever been in love?"

"Dean?" He snorted, then looked at Sam and shook his head 'no'. "As far as I know he made it a rule never to bed the same wench twice. He was waiting for you." His gaze slipped to the knight in question, then back to Sam. "You did not hear any of that from me."

Sam smiled slightly before he looked back down, nodding. "No, my lord, I heard nothing from you," he looked back up at Peter, a smile still lingering on his face."Thank you," Sam shrugged a shoulder, "for telling me."

"You should ask him. His bark is louder than his bite."

Returning, Dean frowned. "Peter, I told you to let him eat. Sam?" He nodded at the still uneaten food in his bowl. "We have another half day's ride."

Sam smiled up at him, "Sorry, your, uh," Sam cleared his throat, "Dean." He mumbled out before looking down and quickly starting to scarf down his food.

Dean's gaze went between the two men. "Should I ask what I missed?" What he didn't miss was Sam's slip up, calling him by his name. Unless... Well, maybe he'd changed his mind, maybe not. Dean had never been good at knowing how to deal with prickly women, how was he to know his innocent would be prickly?

"Nothing. I was merely telling Samuel of your exploits. The time that you fought and struggled for a day and a night, hefting your sword, refusing to give up..."

As Peter went on, Dean started to smile, his chest puffing out.

Sam had stopped shoveling food into his mouth and was now only slowly chewing as he listened to Peter tell his tale.

"... when all other good men would have given up the quest... until you finally struck your death blow... killing that large, giant of a moth that was attacking Lady Hampton's hair... do you remember?"

Sam's eyes widened a mere millisecond before he burst out laughing, one hand at his stomach, he nearly fell over backward off the log, tears in his eyes as he laughed. "A moth!!!" Sam laughed more, "You fought a moth!!!" he continued laughing, gasping for breath.

"You're both ridiculous." Despite his sharp words, Dean was laughing with them. He didn't think he'd ever heard his innocent laugh. He was a touch jealous that Peter was the one who'd earned it.

"And YOU, my friend, have no sense of humor, when it is you who is the butt of the joke." Giving him a knowing look, Peter walked away, re-wording a few lines of a ballad to make it about Lord Winchester who gave his blood to save all England from a murderous beast of a moth."

"Don't listen to him, he is drunk. Has anyone offered you water?" Seeing that no one had, he started to bellow until one of the men rushed over with a skin of water.

Sam's laughter slowly died away as he took the water, a snicker or two working out of him before he finally was able to control it. "Mmm, that was great" Sam told him, smiling, "I like him," he jutted his head toward Peter, "he's funny." He looked down again, biting his lip and feeling self conscious. "Um, thank you, for the water," Sam mumbled out again, quietly finishing the last of his food, washing it down with the water. Licking his lips Sam looked up at Dean, "What did you fight, really?" Sam asked him softly, he shook his head, "the monks would never really tell us, just that it was horrible things, evil things." Sam frowned, before a smile split his face, "Somehow I don't think they were talking about giant moths."

"You're very handsome when you smile. I wish you would, more often." He meant smile for me, and not because of others. "We'll talk about what I fight another time." It wasn't a five minute conversation, and that was all they had.

Sam sighed. Again, he didn't want to talk to him. Oh, right, it didn't involve the reason he had been paid for and picked out long ago. He nodded, "alright," Sam shrugged a shoulder before finishing with his food and pulling to his feet. "May I go talk with Peter more?" Sam smiled slightly, "he makes me laugh."

"Mind his warts," he waved him off. Not happy, but he trusted his friend, and he could imagine that Sam felt lonely. He was unsure why Sam felt uneasy in his company, but he hoped time would change it. "There's not much time, and you're riding with me." He added the last, to make sure there was no question of Sam's rightful place.

Sam turned and started to run smiling wide, then did a stammer step as he looked back at Dean and nodded, before turning and running off. "Peter, my lord, wait!" Sam called as he ran after him.

"Join us lad. Perhaps you want to hear about the time Lord Winchester single-handedly vanquished a one hundred limbed worm?"

Shaking his head at the roars of laughter, Dean went to his horse, checking his weapons, and then talking to Charles. They spoke of the possibility of attacks, and strategies Dean wished to employ.

"You should bed him. Right now, before we leave. If someone gets to him first..."

"Enough. We ride," Deans said loud enough for the others to hear the order and start for their horses.

"You know I'm right, if anything happens, you might have to select a new one... and you might not last until he or she is ready," Charles dared to point out, even as Dean helped Sam back onto the horse's back.

"Charles, take the rear." That was the only sign of displeasure Dean gave as he mounted behind Sam, and held him close. Leaning forward, he asked near his ear. "Are you ready?"

Sam smiled as he nodded. "Will you save me from monstrous mosquitoes?" he asked as he tilted his head back slightly to look at Dean over his shoulder, a wide grin plastered across his lips as he snickered. Sam cleared his throat and his smile fell away as he sat straight again, "Sorry, my lord," he mumbled, hanging his head, though he sneaked a grin at Peter as he rode up to them.

"Hmmm, I'm going to show you my pet hungry mosquito tonight. Mosquito..." he muttered, his body coming into close contact with Sam's with each rolling step forward. "Next you will have me fighting ants and lice."

Sam pressed his lips together tightly, trying to stifle his laughter at the image that flashed in his head. "Dragonflies would be more fearsome, my lord." Sam told him, a snickered breath leaving him before he covered it with a cough.

My Lord. Surely a little thing like that should not cause him to feel so elated. Dean wore a grin, and increased their pace. They had to get to shelter before nightfall.

Master Post: Dragon Spell, Dean/Sam, SPN Xover Dragonriders of Pern

2009-11-18T07:59:13Z

Purified By Innocence, 2/?[NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-11-15T20:23:51Z

Many thanks to naisica who not only allowed us to use her lovely manip but added text for us. If you haven't seen her art... run, don't walk.

Fandom: SPN - AU - Sam/Dean are not brothers
Title: Purified By Innocence
Authors: Cas (virtualpersonal) and Fetish sam_dean_fetish
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; Slash; one attempted rape scene (not BY the boys)

Characters: The characters are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.

Summary: Lord Dean Winchester belongs to the secret arm of the Knights Templer, fighting supernatural horrors and demons that plague the land. Knights like Dean must be paired with an innocent who can neutralize the dark taint that builds up inside them due to their close contact with evil. Dean has selected the boy, Sam, as his innocent, and goes to claim him from the monks who have groomed and sheltered him for that purpose.
Author's Note: We have not tried to make the language sound overly medieval. Think of the Herculese t.v. show, you have the ancient Greece setting but more modern lingo is used. However, we did not go for slapstick or anything.

All Prior Chapters And Master Post

First to be touched by a knight other than his master and now to be taken as though he were a parcel and flung over another's horse? This had to be the worst claiming of an innocent ever. It was because Sam hated to do eventime prayers, that's what it was. God was getting even with him for all the moaning and groaning he did about being kept awake after a long day in the field and forced to pray for two hours and be expected not to fall asleep.

Finally the horse came to a stop behind a cluster of trees and Sam was allowed to get down. His dignity was sorely bruised, but he tried not to let it show as he hid behind the trees with the other riders, the sounds of swords clashing and clanking filling the air around them, followed by shouts that seemed to come from... - Sam frowned - The knight he had been riding with? Not his master? Sam dared look around the tree, but couldn't see much due to the dust that had been kicked up.

In the next second he was yanked back by the rider whose horse he had been tossed across and told to stay back before his master had his hide. Sam sighed as he did as he was told, though he wasn't so sure his master wouldn't have his hide already due to the knight with the stunning green eyes.

*

One hour later, Dean and his men left the bodies of their attackers on the side of the road. As they rode, Charles looked at Dean. "You should consummate tonight, then they will have no reason to try to take Samuel from you."

Dean's features hardened. "I do not move at the pace set for me by others."

Someone whistled, much like a bird, and then Milo and Steven came out from between the trees lining the road.

Though Dean's arm was cut, it didn't show due to his dark clothing, and it was but a nick. Leaning over, and without a by your leave, he hauled his innocent back onto his steed in front of him. "Did you fear for me?"

Sam's eyes had widened to the size of saucers as he was hauled up in front of the same knight he had ridden with before. He frowned. Did he fear for him? Was he suppose to? Fear for a knight that was not his own master? Sam licked his lips nervously, "I - I felt as my master would wish me to feel," he answered as best he could.

Dean wasn't sure whether to be glad or angered by that answer. Of course if he'd told Sam the true circumstances, his answer would have pleased him. "Did they not teach you to think for yourself?" He pulled on the reins, the horse backed up, front legs rearing as they waited for the rest of the men to mount. "Hmm? All that studying and you cannot answer a question for yourself?"

Sam pressed his lips together as his frown deepened, growing annoyed with this knight who thought himself much too important. Sam huffed after a moment, turning his head, chin tilted at a stubborn angle. "I can think for myself just fine, right now I wish not to anger a master I have yet to truly know, nor do I wish to have the knight who seems to think himself immune to my master's wrath think any more highly of himself than he already does. After all, Sir knight, a set of stunning eyes will get you nowhere if you anger those stronger and more powerful than you." Sam thought to let the fool knight think he was speaking of himself angering his master when in truth the words were about the knight. If this warrior thought that Sam would lie for him later and tell his master that he had allowed his advances he was sorely mistaken. It mattered not that Sam would rather it be this knight who touched him.

Once again, Dean was left wondering whether he should be flattered or injured. He spoke well of his eyes, and yet Sam thought he could be bested by Peter. Peter was a seasoned and capable fighter, which was why the man was both friend and right hand to Dean, however, why did Sam think the man was stronger or better? "Think you I have stunning eyes, then?" He smirked, "you may feel free to stare into them for as long as you like."

Sam opened his mouth to argue the fact, only to snap it closed again with a sigh. What was the use? Apparently nothing he said was going to make this warrior see that he belonged to another and should not be touched or spoken to in such a way. Sam only hoped that his master knew this man well enough to know it was his doings and not Sam's. Just to be safe, Sam closed his eyes and hung his head as he worried his lip, his long hair concealing most of his face. Mayhaps if he looked as if he was completely at the warriors mercy, his master would see it was not his fault.

Then they were off again, at breakneck speed, wanting to reach the shelter offered by an inn before nightfall.

* * *

After stabling their horses, they rented rooms at the King's Head Inn, three rooms for Dean, Peter and Charles, and two additional rooms for the rest to share. They took up half of the tavern between them and sitting at a few long tables ordered ale, meat and cheese. Peter told one of the others to take Sam's belongings to the room. Sam was placed between Peter and Dean at the table.

"Is your arse sore, lad? I know you're not used to riding for long hours," Peter asked, revealing his missing teeth in response to the laughter at the table.

Sam, who had been sitting with his head bowed, looked up abruptly when the question was asked of him. His first thought was to say no, that he was fine, his second was to say yes, as his master smiled at him, hoping that if he claimed to be sore and tired he would not be laid with tonight. Sam swallowed hard before opening his mouth to answer, only to snap it closed as the damn arse of a knight next to him had to open up his big mouth.

"I make a good cushion, isn't that true?" Dean asked, a challenge in his eyes.

Sam looked over at the knight he had ridden with, he was about to tell him that, 'No, he did not make a good cushion, but he was sure octopi were envious of his many hands', when the wind was knocked out of Sam's sails by the challenge in the warriors eyes.

Lowering his head, Sam nodded mutely.

Shaking his head, Dean pushed the mug of ale toward Sam. "Unless you prefer... milk." That brought on a new round of laughter.

Sam would have told him that he had never had ale, that they had only drunk water or watered wine at the monastery, but at the rousing laughter, obviously at his expense, he decided to keep his mouth shut and drink the stuff.

The buxom wenches brought platters of food to the table, leaning forward as they served and joking with the men ogling their wares. Dean studied Sam's reactions.

Sam lowered his head each time the women brought food to the table, he was at first unsure about whether they realized the display they were putting on, but Sam wasn't stupid, it only took a second for him to figure it out. Now, he definitely was not going to look up, even if it meant he had to pull his plate into his lap.

Snickering, Dean tore off a piece of bread and passed it to Sam, then started to fill his mouth. A hard day of riding made him feel like a man starved for days. For a while, he said nothing, using the bread to scoop sauce from the meat, and alternating with swallows of ale to wash it down.

"Eat lad," Peter told Sam, then asked, "and what do you think of the outside world, what you have seen of it thus far?" He closed his hand around his mug, and waited. "You do have a tongue to speak with?"

Dean's face jerked up, and he gave Peter a warning look but said nothing.

Sam raised his head and swallowed, nodding, then realized what he was doing and licked his lips. "Y-yes, sir. I'm sorry, I-" he glanced around the table before looking back at the man who now seemed to be his master, "I was taught not to speak unless spoken to and then only when I had something worth telling." He cleared his throat and licked his lips again nervously. "The world outside our monastery lands is," he pressed his lips together, "different, but not bad, I think."

Sam took a small bite of bread and reached for his ale, his head still slightly lowered. Taking a drink, he nearly choked, sputtering and coughing as he pulled the tankard away from his lips.

Snapping his fingers, Dean asked for water and moved out of the way as a wench set it down in front of Sam. "Ale is an acquired taste. Surely you've had wine in the monastery." He knew the monks partook of the wine they made. He was about to ask a question, when one of the others made a ribald joke. Naturally that got the others started, and everyone around the table started to laugh and take a turn.

When they were done with their meal, Dean saw that half of the jokes went over Sam's head. Without looking at him, he placed his hand over Sam's firmly enough that the boy couldn't pull away. He knew there was strength in the hand under his, and didn't miss the fact that Sam pressed his hand flat onto the table and went rigid. Using his middle finger, Dean stroked back and forth, dipping it between the juncture of two of Sam's fingers, caressing slowly... suggestively, wondering what the boy would do if his finger were replaced with his tongue.

Sam sat quietly, knowing he could not be excused from the table until his master told him. His hands were braced lightly on the table top as he was taught at the monastery. One should never have ones hands in their lap while dining, no elbows on the table, sit up straight and remember your manors, your place in life and why you were there. Yes, Sam remembered all of his teachings. But when the knight's hand found his, Sam had to force himself not to gasp in a breath, though his posture stiffened dramatically, his eyes widening. He tried to pull his hand out from under the warrior's as he glanced over at his master, but found that he was unable. Then he felt the man actually start to run his finger between his own. Sam took in a shuddering breath through parted lips as he looked down at his hand covered by the knight's. "Please..." he whispered, tugging lightly on his hand, trying to free it.

Leaning toward Sam, his mouth inches from the boys, he asked, "Yes? Did you ask for something?" His finger never stopped fucking the boy between the fingers, only moving slightly to fresh territory.

Sam's tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously, as his gaze darted to his master, then back into the stunning green eyes of the knight before him. He shook his head, glaring down at their hands, then looking back at the knight, "Please..." he whispered again.

Nodding, Dean threaded his fingers through Sam's and pulled both their hands into his lap, pressing Sam's palm into his thigh and rubbing his thumb over the back of Sam's hand. Heat seeped through the material of his pants. Between the close-up of Sam's lips, and the touch of his hand, his heart started to race as if they were engaged in bed sport. He'd chosen wisely, his body recognized Sam as his salvation. Did the boy not feel it?

Sam bit his lip, an uneasy feeling rushing through his system as the knight laced their fingers together and moved them to his lap. No! No, that wasn't... that's not... Sam chewed on his lip as butterflies danced in his chest, his heart fluttering. Fear. He told himself, fear that he was going to be taken outside and whipped or worse. And here this warrior thought he was playing a game, touching what was not his.

Releasing his lip, Sam licked them as he gazed into the knights eyes, eyes he could definitely get used to staring into. Sam swallowed hard. That was probably not something he should be thinking right now, and instead, he should be trying to figure a way to cleverly remove his hand from the knight's leg, discreetly.

Peter turned to look at them. "More ale?"

Sam jumped nearly off the bench seat hearing his master's voice, his eyes widening as he tugged hard on his hand to get it away from the other knight's. Lips parted in shock that his master was talking to him and this was happening, Sam looked over at him, his cheeks slowly turning pinker. "No - no, sir." He shook his head adamantly, heart thundering.

"Is something amiss?" Peter asked.

Dean allowed Sam's hand to escape, but this time, he put his hand on the boy's thigh, squeezing slightly. "Tell him you're fine."

Sam took his hand back and was about to tell his master that his knight here was touching his property, when the knight in question added his two cents to the matter. Looking back into brilliant green eyes, Sam tilted his chin up slightly at a stubborn angle as he reached down under the table and shoved the knight's hand away from his thigh. "No, my lord, I'm fine," Sam answered stiffly, slightly slanted hazel eyes boring into the errant knight.

"He is indeed fine." The instant Peter's head turned, Dean leaned in and brushed his mouth across Sam's. "Very fine." By the time Peter turned to them, he was sitting straight and lifting his mug to his lips.

Sam gasped in a breath as the knight's lips touched his. His lips stayed in the shocked, slightly parted position they'd formed, as Sam's eyes tracked the knight, still trying to process what had just happened. Sam sat there dumbly for a few moments before finally snapping his mouth closed and swallowing.

"We have an early ride. Time for me to retire." At Peter's statement, most of the others got up, though Dean and Charles were engaged in a heated discussion over who was the hero of the last battle they were in.

"Take Samuel to the room," Peter told one of the other lads, knowing Dean could be up drinking all night, though the wise thing would be to consummate. One year ago, he'd been on edge. This morning he'd been on edge. Now... now it was as if nothing was bothering him. Always had to be an enigma, that one.

A chill ran down Sam's back as he heard his master say that he was going to retire. He was suddenly half tempted to throw himself into the green-eyed knights arms and beg him to not let the man have him, but Sam wasn't a child anymore, he would have to be strong and do what he had to, fulfill his position in life. Swallowing hard, Sam started to get up as his master did, his gaze flickering over to the one his master had told to take him to their room, before he hung his head and turned to follow after him obediently.

The knight lead Lord Winchester's innocent to one of the bedrooms above stairs, then told him he would guard the room until his Lordship arrived.

*

Inside the bedroom, Sam stared at the door for a moment before looking around the room. The bed against the wall seemed to scream at him so he avoided it, going to the small window and looking out. He stood there a while worrying his bottom lip before he began to pace, twisting his hands in front of him as he did, his head bowed, lip between straight white teeth chewing away at it as he tried to talk down his rising fear. His chest ached with it, his stomach was fluttering, he was sure he was breaking out in a cold sweat.

Finally, Sam sank down on the bed, but as he sat there, he slowly turned his head and gazed at the pillows and thoughts of laying there beside that man ran through his head and he quickly jumped up as though he'd seen a ghost, his back colliding with the wall as he stared at the bed in wide eyed horror.

Gulping in a few breaths, Sam slowly moved away from the wall and started to pace again.

*

Almost two candle-marks later, Dean took leave of Charles and headed up the stairs. Relieving the guard, he walked into the small room and found Sam pacing. However the boy stopped mid-step and stared at him, eyes wide.

"Hmmm. I would have thought you'd have been in my bed by now." His innocent appeared so nervous that Dean thought he might sprout wings at any moment and take flight. "Should I be flattered, you waited up for me?" He started to take off some of his clothes, but his eyes were focused on Sam's face.

Sam licked his lips nervously, leaning to look behind the knight, even though the door was closed. Finally, Sam looked at the warrior's face. "Y - your room?" he asked, tearing his gaze away to look around, "but I thought..." Sam looked back at the knight only to look away again, his cheeks stained a delicate pink, as the knight was getting undressed.

"Mine," he agreed, without elaborating and noticing the blush.

Sam head turned away, eyes squeezed closed. He spoke softly, "I think I was brought to the wrong room." He bit his lip, as he ran his hands down his sides, wiping away the sweat, his heart hammering in his chest. "Can - can you show me the way to," Sam swallowed, "to my lord's room?"

"Are you object to being in my room?" Dean raised an eyebrow, then moved behind Sam, and spoke near his ear. "Is there... something about me you object to? Am I..." he stroked the side of the boy's face, though Sam still refused to look at him. "... too old? Too round in the belly?" He slid his thumb over Sam's lip, sucking his breath in at how soft and wet it felt. "Do I have warts which scare you? Or is it my teeth or fetid breath that makes you prefer the bed of another?"

Sam started to speak, to tell the knight that 'yes, he objected to being in the wrong room', he did not want to stir his masters wrath, that it was what he had been trying to tell the man all day it seemed, but then the warrior was standing behind him, far to closel, Sam could feel his body heat radiating off of him, could smell the scent of leather and earth that came from him, not bad smells, strong, woodsy, manly smells, good smells. Sam stood stock still save for the increasingly harder rise and fall of his chest as the knight spoke low in his ear.

Sam frowned slightly at the words. Old? No, he was not too old. Too round? No, he had a muscular frame as far as Sam could tell.

Sam sucked in a breath as the knights finger ran over his lip, his hands at his sides clenching into fists as warmth ran through his system. Faint, that was what he was going to do. That was what that feeling was. He was going to faint dead away and it would be all this knight's fault for touching what he wasn't suppose to.

A tortured small whimper left Sam's throat as he stood there, wanting to tell this knight to stop, to go away, to take him to his master, and yet at the same time, he did not want to go to that other man, he wanted to stay here with this knight, wanted him to be his master, not the other.

Warts? No, I don't see any- teeth, breath... Sam's eyes opened wide as he sucked in a shocked breath and turned, looking at the knight, before he quickly spun away. "You heard me!?" Sam asked him, although Sam was not looking at the knight, his words were spoken as though he were glaring at him.

Sam might not be able to look at him half undressed, but he could sure as hell find out what was going on and how much this knight had heard. "You - you heard what I said to Brother John!?" Sam shook his head, "How? When?" Sam swallowed, lifting his head, his back going rigid, "Does my master know?" he asked, voice softer, as his eyes closed, fearing that he was already in trouble from the start.

"Yes." He knew he should stop toying with his innocent, he'd tortured him enough for his own amusement. Moving his hand to the side of Sam's throat, he turned his face toward him. "I know." When Sam finally opened his eyes, he added, "You may call me Dean, except when you are talking about me, then I'm Lord Winchester." Your lord and master. He didn't say the words, but he felt them to his core. This youth belonged to him henceforth, belonged to him completely.

Sam's eyes widened, his breath escaping him in a rush. Hazel eyes searched green for the truth. Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to hug him or hit him. He was just so relieved that he would not be going to bed with.... Sam didn't even want to think about it. Finally, Sam nodded, hanging his head slightly. "I - I beg your forgiveness, my lord, I -" he looked up, shaking his head, "you were not suppose to hear that." Sam told him, again worrying his lip.

"It amused me," he said honestly, reminding him he could call him Dean but leaving it up to him. "Have a bit of wine." It wasn't a request. Dean moved to the table where there was a pitcher, and poured two cups. Passing one to Samuel, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed as he stripped his shirt and under shirt off. He was toeing his boots off, but still watching Sam's. "Drink, and don't turn away from me."

Sam looked down at the cup of wine for a moment before he brought it to his lips and sipped a little, making sure not to choke this time. He had started to turn noticing that the knight was taking off more clothes, but stopped as he was told, instead worrying his lip and looking down at his cup. "I - we never had unwatered wine. The monks," he shrugged a shoulder slightly, "they did at times." Sam pressed his lips together, "At communion, but that was a sip." He took another sip from his cup. He was rambling, about things his master likely didn't care about, but he was nervous.

Dean nodded. "Life will be different for you now. Are you afraid?"

Sam started to look up only to avert his gaze once more, staring into his cup as he pressed his lips together. "I - I'm nervous," he licked his lips, "I don't know what to expect," he frowned. "I was more afraid when I thought you were..." he didn't finish his words, biting his lip instead.

"Peter," he supplied, his gaze no less intense. "Yes, he's fearsome. He might have fallen asleep on you. Whereas I hardly ever sleep." He clamped down on a grin.

Sam's eyes widened as his head snapped up, only to close his eyes tight, a deep blush working its way across his cheeks as he shook his head. "That wasn't what I was afraid of." He cleared his throat.

"No? What were you worrying about then?" He wondered whether he could make Sam's entire body flush the way his face did. Wondered how he might look on his great big bed at home, with nothing on and the the bed curtains giving them privacy. He licked his lips. "And more importantly, why are you less afraid now?"

Sam frowned into his cup, releasing his bottom lip to lick them, "I, um, that is," he shifted his weight, turning slightly to place the cup on the table next to the pitcher. "At the monetary," he frowned harder, bit his lip and wrapped his arms around himself, feeling as though he were standing bare before the knight suddenly. "There were knights who.... touched others and I," Sam ran his hands up and down his biceps as if he were suddenly cold, "I didn't want - want him to..." Sam shook his head, letting his sentence trail off, not knowing how to finish it, and not able to anyway, the deep stain on his cheeks seemed to be growing, he could feel it now, and was sure he was the color of the scarlet cloths inside the chapel at the monetary.

Listening to Sam stutter as he told the simple tale, trying to avoid the details, his innocence and naivety was painfully obvious. He kept walking into verbal traps. "And... you're less afraid because you want me to touch you?" he asked, voice dropping down an octave, mouth now aching to steal a kiss... a touch. He knew he could make any demand, take any way he wanted, and that knowledge thrilled the darkness that lived within him, that part of him he had to control, and which Sam would help him control.

Sam swallowed hard as he stared at the cup on the stable as if it were his savior, "I -" Sam paused, not knowing how to finish this sentence. Did he want him to? No, yes, maybe. Sam didn't know about wants, so how could he answer that? "I - am indeed lucky to have you as my master., he finished, satisfied that it was a good enough way to answer the question put to him.

It wasn't as direct an answer as Dean wanted, but it was to be expected. "Luck wasn't involved. I chose you," he said, remembering that day eight years ago very well. "When I was young, your age," he nodded. "Take another sip, then take your robe off for me. Please," he added more softly.

Sam started to pick up the cup and drink, only to pause as he clenched his jaw, hand tightening around the cup before he gave a stiff nod. Bringing the cup to his lips, Sam did not sip as he was told, being as nervous as he was, and the sudden fear that blossomed in the pit of his stomach like a rock. Instead, he gulped down the wine, only putting the cup down when it was nearly empty.

This was it, this was what he had been chosen and trained for since his youth, he was to be this knight's innocent, taken and claimed tonight. He would not weep as the girls did, he would not beg and plead as he heard some do through the monetary walls, no he was going to be brave.

Dean watched the expressions chase over the boy's face. Fear. Uncertainty. Then sheer will replacing the other emotions as he lifted his chin bravely. That's my boy.

Shaking hands went to the robe's belt at his waist and slowly unfastened it. As the cord fell to the floor, Sam forced himself to lift his head and look at his knight, slightly slanted hazel eyes staring intently into wide expressive brilliant green as he reached down to pull his robe up and over his head.

Letting the thick white robe fall to the floor, Sam started to clasp his hands before him, then behind him, then before him again, unsure what to do with them. Finally he opted for letting his arms hang at his sides, hands curled into fists, his jaw clenched tight as he waited.

To say he was affected was an understatement. Dean's entire body clenched with desire at the sight of long, lean limbs, well muscled and he knew firm to the touch. His gaze swept back up, lingering at the pulse point at Sam's throat ... beating out of control, and then to meet his eyes. His breath hitched.

Gazes locked, a battle raged within Dean. One part of him demanding he tear the brais off, take the boy now, that was his right, take him, slake his lust, make him his... claim him as his savior from the dark. Another part of him, the side that had wanted to weep for the boy when he was taken behind monastery walls, when he was denied the comfort of hugs and touches, that side battled harder. A new day had dawned, and he owed the boy something. Yes they were fated to be together, but there were choices as well.

Jaw clenched, he got up and reached Sam in a few strides. The need to pulling up hard against him was so strong, he had to bite down on his own lip to control it. Reaching out, he touched Sam's face, sliding his thumb into his mouth, then moving down to caress his throat, and chest. "You're beautiful. Has anyone told you?" he asked, voice rough with lust and wonder.

Sam automatically took a single step back as the knight rose from the bed and come toward him, his eyes widening, his heart racing.
At the gentle touch to his face, Sam nearly sighed, though his body remained rigid, stiff, his heart beating so loud he was sure that his master could hear it. The thumb that slipped into his mouth through his parted lips surprised him, but he stood perfectly still, allowing this knight, his knight to do as he wished, sucking in a deep shuddering breath as the warriors calloused hand moved down to caress his throat and chest.

Sam swallowed hard, frowning to concentrate on the man's words, he shook his head slightly, "N - no." He licked his lips, "C - Christiana once said I reminded her of the dogs at the monetary," he whispered the words, almost breathlessly, his chest rising and falling faster, heart thundering in his ears, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides.

"Dogs. She must be blind," he answered, now placing both hands on Sam's chest and exploring the hard planes of his body, moving over his abs and sides. Somehow he knew he would never get tired of touching his innocent. That he'd always be drawn to touch him, just as he had been when they'd been riding and eating at the table. "Do you know of coupling?" He knew the monks would never have detailed it for the young ones in their care. "Have you seen animals rutting?"

Sam clenched his jaw, muscle twitching as he gave his head a small tight shake, then licked his lips at the question. "I - I had to care for - for the animals, it was part of my chores. I've seen," he looked up quickly, eyes slightly wide, "but, I didn't watch!" Sam added quickly in case that was what his master wanted to know.

"Hmm. I always watched when I was a child." Then again, he hadn't been sheltered, and nothing could clamp down on his curiosity... it had nearly gotten him killed many a time. Dean stepped closer, putting his hands on Sam's ass, the thin and worn material under his palms barely a separation. Pulling him flush against his body, he allowed him to feel his arousal straining against his britches. "Does this ever happen to you?" His mouth skimmed over the curve of Sam's neck and shoulder, a low moan breaking from him as he struggled to keep his control. It was so fucking hard.

A strangled cry broke from Sam's throat as Dean's hands grabbed his ass, pulling him up against Dean's rather obvious arousal, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, before Sam bit his lip, his hands rising to press against Dean's shoulders in reflex, though he wasn't pressing hard. Sam shook his head, "I - no, I mean, in the morning, sometimes, I -" He turned such a deep shade of red, he was sure he was going to incinerate, just simply burst into flames from his embarrassment at any moment. He swallowed hard as he turned his head away from Dean's and squeezed his eyes closed, his the knights lips skimming over his flesh.

The squirming and pushing excited Dean something fierce. Did the boy know what he was doing to him? In and effort to control himself, he pressed his mouth down, sucking hard on the skin on the side of Sam's throat... so soft... so perfect. This boy was meant for him, he felt in in every fiber of his body. "Do you touch yourself? Here?" he asked, rolling his hips forward. "When you're hard... in the mornings?"

Sam sucked in a breath before curling his lips in and pressing them together tightly as his master sucked at his neck, his hands at the knights shoulder curling into fists.The breath that he had been holding as his master sucked at his flesh left him in a rush as he quickly opened his eyes and looked at him. "No!" Sam shook his head adamantly, "No, I never, I swear!" Sam told him, eyes wide. "I know that to touch there is forbidden, I would never, I - " Sam pressed his lips together and hung his head, "I am not impure, my lord," he told him softly, sadly, thinking perhaps his master thought he had not gotten as good as he had bargained for.

"Shshsh, I didn't say you are that. I accept you are pure. You are mine," he said, dipping his head down to find Sam's mouth, kissing him gently like a child's kiss, though it almost killed him. "You may touch yourself anytime you want... after I have touched you," he said, wanting to be the first... it was his right. His duty. "Get in bed."

Dean moved away abruptly and took the goblet that Sam had abandoned, refilled it and drank all of the liquid down in an ill-fated attempt to cool his lust.

Sam stood, lips parted, his heart hammering in his chest, fear rooting him in the spot as he watched Dean drink. Tearing his gaze away to look at the bed, Sam took a leaden step forward, then another, slowly crossing the distance, his posture stiff as he made his way over, sitting down tentatively on the edge of the bed. He lay back, his arms stiff and ridig, hands clenched into white knuckled fists at his sides as he stared up at the ceiling. "I - I am ready," he cleared his throat, "my Lord."

Following, but stopping before he reached the bed, Dean started to undo his breeches. "Ready for what?" As he pushed his pants down, his brais tented, a clear indication of the lust coursing through his body. And yet, he could still play... amuse himself with his naive and not so little innocent.

Sam's eyes moved, though he held the rest of his body stock still, as he looked over at Dean, "Fff - for you to - to," again he felt the heat rise to his face, burn his cheeks. He tore his gaze away looking down as he licked his lips, "For you to do whatever pleases my Lord," he answered softly, the fingers of his hands curling slightly tighter, making his short blunt nails dig into and cut his palms.

In his mind's eye, Dean saw himself pulling Sam's arms above his head, pinning him down under his body, ravaging his mouth. He knew if he let himself go, nothing short of the maddening lust that often followed battle would have him in its grips and that he would take Sam in every way possible, unable to gentle his touches... he'd be like those knights who had scared him. One day maybe he could take him like that.

"No," he said tightly, blowing the candles out and moving to the bed. The mattress sagged under his weight, and then he rolled closer to Sam under the covers. "I don't imagine you would like what pleases me." He started to loosen the boy's brais, his hand brushing over untouched territory.

Sam lay as still as possible, even when he wanted to bolt from the bed as his master lay down beside him. Instead he clenched his jaw, concentrated to continuing to breathe, to lay still and do as he was supposed to. His heart hammered so hard it nealry hurt, or at least he thought that was what the odd feeling was fluttering around inside him.

When Dean started to untie his brais, Sam held his breath, he wanted to move, wanted to turn away, wanted to move his hand as he felt him brush areas that Sam himself never touched unless he simply had to. He didn't think he had actually started to move, but then had to wonder if maybe he had with his master's next words.

"Don't pull away." He touched him again over the thin cotton, and started pulling it down off his body, his palms exploring and squeezing Sam's thighs, fingers digging in a little as his own cock began to throb uncontrollably.

Sam swallowed and nodded, muscles rippling under the skin of his thighs as Dean touched, and Sam fought with himself not to move, to lay still and allow his master to do what it was he wanted. Sam's breaths began coming faster, deeper, his chest rising and falling with each one, his palms sweating as he continued to squeeze his hands into tight fists, heart hammering. Again that sound escaped Sam's throat, somewhere between a gasped breath and a whimper before he squeezed his eyes closed and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.

Once he had him naked, Dean ran his hand back up Sam's body, over his cock and up his stomach, casually bringing it to the side of Sam's face and making him turn toward him. "Now... you undress me. The same way.... touch me, and don't rush." The thought of those long fingers brushing against him, sliding down his body, it made Dean go impossibly harder. "Kiss me first," he demanded as an after thought, his gaze latching onto Sam's much abused lower lip.

Sam released his lip, he was shaking, trembling, but he wasn't going to mention how nervous he was or how scared, or the fact that he was feeling light headed or that his heart was likely going to burst out of his chest any minute now. Slowly he looked over at Dean as he licked his lips, "I - I don't know," he shook his head. No, that wasn't true, he knew how to kiss. He used to kiss the animals on the head when he thought they needed it because they looked sad to him, although he had a feeling that wasn't quite the way his master wanted him to kiss. Well, it was all Sam knew, he didn't know how to do what he had seen some of the knights do to the others before they disappeared into other rooms, their tongues pressing past innocent lips.

With a deep breath, Sam gave a nod, moving to lean up on an elbow as he turned toward Dean and leaned his head down, and pressed a rather loud smacking kiss on his knights lips, then pulled his head back to look down at him, biting his lip as he gazed into brilliant green eyes, silently asking with his own, 'How was that?'

What the fu--. "Perfect," Dean forced the lie out between his teeth. He hadn't expected Sam to know how to do more than touch their lips together, but he hadn't expected the sound that often accompanied mother's kissing their babes. He was the farthest thing from a babe.

The beautiful smile that spread across his innocent's face made Dean glad he'd told the lie. He put his hand on Sam's hip. "Now fit your mouth over mine... don't kiss... just hold it there as you get my brais. Don't forget to touch me like I touched you." Unconsciously, he was using his hand to rock Sam back and forth toward him.

Sam's smile slowly faded, replaced with parted lip that his breath was panting out of, his hand on the bed gripping the pillow tightly as the knight had him nearly rocking against him, something Sam didn't understand, but it was making butterflies dance in his stomach and that warmth rush through him again. He just hoped he didn't pass out before he did everything his master wanted. He hadn't felt ill at the monastery, but he was apparently coming down with something.

Sam frowned at the directions that his master gave him, but was determined to do well, liking the feeling of pride that had come when his Lord had told him his kiss had been perfect. He gave a small curt nod as he leaned his head down, pressing his lips against Dean's, not moving, just breathing in and out, their lips pressed together, breathing in Dean's breaths, the knight breathing in his as his hand slowly started to lower, fingertips dancing across Dean's chest then stomach as he moved his hand slowly lower to the knights waist and the string fastening of his brais. His long fingers danced across the area, blindly searching for the start of the tie, before pulling it, and freeing it. Sam moved his hand upward slightly, laying flat against the knights hip as he pushed one side of the brais down, then his hand moved, slipping across Dean's stomach to his other hip to press the fabric down on that side.

The soft tentative touches left Dean burning for so much more. It had been many years since his first coupling, he could hardly remember a time anymore when he didn't get straight to easing the ache that cursed a man between the legs. Never had it felt more like a curse, and a gift. The feelings building up inside the hardened warrior were so strong, he was certain he would succumb to his desires the way many others before him had, taking their innocents hard and fast the first time. He groaned, against sweet, soft lips, he made sound of anguish, pressing his lips only a litter harder against Sam's, forcing himself to wait.

Sam's brow creased as he concentrated on what he was doing, blindly fumbling with his hand trying to pull the material from his master's body.

Dean's hips rolled forward, toward's Sam's touch. He pulled him closer, making it more difficult for him to undress him but unable to release him. God... how he ached, how he needed, how he was tortured by thoughts of shoving Sam on his back, forcing his knees apart, and ramming his thick length deep inside him. If he kept him waiting... he just might...

Sam let out a breath of air, straight into Dean's mouth, their lips even more pressed together. He pulled his head back slightly further, lashes fluttering as he opened his eyes, his lips so close to Dean's they brushed as he spoke, "I don't- I can't, um," Sam licked his lips, the tip of his tongue touching Dean's in the process before he pulled it back.

Sam pulled his head a bit more away, "With my lips here, I can't, I mean -" he bit his lip, his eyes darting downward, angry at himself that he couldn't seem to do as his master asked, "I'm sorry, I'm just a clumsy idiot," Sam shook his head, his face distorted in an anguished frown at himself.

The last shred of his control broke. Dean pulled him almost roughly closer, clamping his mouth over Sam's, crushing their lips together, pushing his tongue inside the wet heat of his innocent's mouth. Groaning, he grabbed Sam's hand, using it to push his own brais down, then pressing Sam's palm over his hard cock... needing the touch of his innocent.

As the knight's tongue invaded his mouth, Sam gagged a little, fighting to control his rising fear, as he squeezed his eyes closed, just letting his master do with his mouth as he wanted. As his hand was grabbed and forced to push the man's brais down, then laid over his erection, Sam'e body jerked slightly, his own breaths coming faster, fear steadily rising inside of him, his fingers, his hand splayed wide, afraid to do anything, not knowing what to do.

So good, so right, Sam was the light to the darkness within Dean... he could sense it. The knight couldn't fight it any more, he rolled on top of Sam, mouths still melded, bucking his body against him, breaths getting labored as he used his knee to part Sam's. He needed. Wanted. Had to be sheathed by his innocent, had to find calm for the storms raging within him.

Sam's eyes popped open, wide and fearful, his hands rising to his masters shoulders, pushing him back, as he rutted atop of him. "No, please, oh my God... " Sam gasped out the words, his heart hammering. So this was what it was like, this was what it was to be claimed. Now he understood why the girls would leave in tears. Why he would hear them screaming, their pleas echoing through the monastery. "Please, I'm sorry, give me another chance, I -" Sam struggled against his master, even knowing it was wrong, even as he told himself to be strong and take it, to do as he was suppose to, to let his master take what he wanted, some part of himself was too terrified to listen, so he struggled, neck arching back, lips parted, face flushed, his heart hammering in his chest as he pushed and shoved at his master.

No. How could his innocent, the one he owned, had chosen, had supported... how could he say 'no' to what had to be, what should be? He shouldn't... couldn't. A snarl welled up from Dean's throat. Easily, he grasped both of Sam's hands, and pinned them above his head. Stabbing his tongue inside his mouth once again, he thrust against him, fire consuming his very being at the thought of being inside... salvation.

His arms suddenly pinned, Sam's eyes widened as he looked up at the knight, his breaths panting out before his knight's tongue invaded his mouth. "Oh God, no...please...not like this... not like this... please, I'll do better, I swear! I'm sorry, please!!" Sam begged after tearing his mouth away. His heart beat so hard in his chest Sam was sure it as going to beat it's way out, fear like he had never known gripping him, tears stung his eyes but he fought them back, even as whimpers tore from his throat, his head thrashing as he arched and struggled.

From a distance, Dean heard the whimpers of fear. The pleas. The apologies. "Need to claim you. Make you mine," he countered, thrusting against him harder. Another whimper from the boy broke through the haze of his mind. "Don't fight me... Stop... stop it so that I can fight this," he ground out, trying to regain control of his limbs, his body, his very soul and nature, all clamoring at him to take the boy now.

Sam's breaths gasped out at every thrust of the knights hard muscled body against his, every rub of his hard cock against his body. Head turned to the side, Sam bit his lip, refusing to look at the knight anymore, refusing to see, to be part of what was happening to him. He had thought that his knight, his master, was different... tender, gentle, with brilliant beautiful eyes and sweet words, only to learn that he was just like the others, just a prettier face and form.

He slowly stilled, as he closed his eyes, unshed tears wetting his lashes, as straight white teeth bit hard into his bottom lip. Sniffling softly, Sam licked his lips. "I thought you were different," Sam said softly, almost to himself as he slowly opened his eyes, staring at a spot on the wall.

The boy had no idea what a struggle it was, the strength of will Dean had to exert over himself, how rare it was to be able to fight the claiming drive. When he succeeded in finding a modicum of control, Dean rolled off his innocent, but caught his last words. "And now you are back to wanting Peter," he said, forcing himself onto his back, hands under his head, a reminder not to reach out. "I'm sorry you don't understand. Sleep now," he said roughly, the order directed to himself as much as to his innocent.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed. No, he didn't want Peter, he didn't want anyone. He wanted to go home, wanted to go back to the monestary where he was free to not be touched to be with people who were kind and didn't scare him.

Slowly he rolled over onto his side, facing away from Dean, curling up into a ball the way he had to at the monestary to fit on his pallet. Although he wanted to obey, didn't want to disappoint yet again, Sam found sleep impossible, his heart still hammering out a fearful beat, his arms and hands shaking as he chewed his nails.

Claiming 7/? [NC-17] Dean/Sam, SPN Xover Twilight

2009-11-15T00:10:38Z

Purified By Innocence, 1/?[NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-11-14T01:05:17Z

Master Post SPN AU Fic: Purified By Innocence, [NC-17] Dean/Sam

2009-11-14T00:59:19Z

Hysterical SPN Vid

2009-11-13T09:46:41Z

Found this really funny video (althought a certain apparently humorless friend of mine disagrees :P ) and thought I'd share. Tongue in cheek, three way convo between Sam, Metallicar and Dean, about Dean's sadness at being left by Castiel. Dean is scarred for life.

The maker's name appears at the end of the vid.