Fic: Invisible Touch
Oct. 13th, 2019 01:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Invisible Touch
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, female witch OC
Rating: Explicit/NC-17
Word Count: 6,520
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: A witch with mind control powers makes Sam and Dean have sex with each other for the first time, forcing them to confront their desire for one other. Afterwards, they find their way back to intimacy and to healing.
Warnings/tags: Sibling incest, non-con, first time, mind control, mind control aftermath and recovery, mind rape, blow jobs, anal sex, kissing, making out, hand jobs, telepathy, guilt, shame, emotional hurt/comfort, explicit images embedded
A/N: This was written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
wincestbigbang. Please show my always-wonderful artist ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blindswandive some love on the art masterpost! I can't thank you enough for the ridiculously gorgeous art. Many thanks also to my dear friend Nevanna for an extremely helpful beta job on this story.
Read on AO3
***
Their mistake, Dean thought later, had been going into the penthouse.
Never go after a witch on her home turf. That’s what Dad had always said. Who knew what kind of spells they might have in place? You could end up dead the second you set foot in the door. But there had been no actual bodies reported, just weird events.
It started with the CEO of a deeply conservative organization known for its homophobia calling a press conference, announcing that he was gay and kissing his lover in front of everyone. Then, a career thief had robbed a bank without trying to hide her identity at all; she’d been caught but the money had vanished. She claimed someone had been in her head and made her do it. Finally, a murderer had confessed to a thirty-year-old cold case with no provocation, then tried to plead insanity, insisting that he hadn’t been in his right mind when he gave his statement.
It had all been strange, but they’d thought that the witch was probably new to it, perhaps not very powerful yet. Dean wondered later if she’d been in their heads since they first rolled into town. Leading them to take stupid risks they never should have considered until she had them in her clutches. Why hadn’t they tried to find a charm or an amulet that worked against mind control magic before they went to confront her? Mind control had been their working theory. It certainly couldn’t have hurt to have one. But they hadn’t.
Dean had only clung to consciousness long enough to see Sam’s eyes roll back in his head as he dropped to the ground. And then Dean had caught sight of the floor rushing up to meet him before blackness swallowed him.
***
Dean woke up woozily, realizing that he was 1.) naked and 2.) tied to a Saint Andrew’s cross. He wasn’t sure which of these things was more alarming. Actually, he knew, and it was the secret third option: the fact that Sam was kneeling in front of him, also naked, his wrists cuffed behind his back. Sam’s face was flushed and his eyes were trained on the floor.
Dean tore his gaze from his brother and looked around the room, which was all cream and gold and ridiculously expensive. Just a few feet away was a luxuriant bed, and the witch, luxuriating on it.
She was gorgeous; curvaceous with long, wavy chestnut hair and dark eyes that tilted up a little at the corners. She was wearing a tight black dress, which was a total cliché, but Dean had to admit she looked great in it. Under other circumstances, he would have been very pleased to have a woman like that enter his life, or even just his field of vision.
Unfortunately, he was tied up in a witch’s modern-style sex torture dungeon, or something, and it made it sort of difficult to enjoy a beautiful woman. Even when her mouth curved into a smile that lit up her face, so truly happy it was almost inviting.
“Sam,” she said. “He’s awake.” She flicked her wrist towards him in a lazy motion. The cuffs on Sam’s wrists opened and fell to the floor.
For a split second, Dean dared to hope that they were in for a kinky night with someone who was kind of twisted and didn’t have a lot of respect for prior consent but would be pretty fun in the end. The hope died when Sam looked up at him, his face stricken.
“Dean,” he whispered. “She’s in my head. I’m sorry. I can’t…” He reached out woodenly, like he was a marionette. Dean realized with a shudder that Sam pretty much was a puppet. Sam’s fingers trailed lightly along Dean’s side, making Dean’s skin break out in gooseflesh.
The witch was laying on her side, head in her hand, watching them. “You’re not that sorry, are you, Sam?”
“Let him go!” Dean growled, voice hard.
“But he’s enjoying himself,” the witch said innocently. Against his better judgment, Dean looked down and saw that Sam was half-hard already, his cheeks crimson with shame. Dean felt a sinking dread as Sam leaned forward and nuzzled his hip, lips brushing the sensitive skin.
“She hit you with some kind of aphrodisiac, Sammy?” Dean asked, noting how Sam twitched at the familiar nickname.
“Oh, I didn’t have to,” the witch purred. “To be honest, making people do things they don’t want to do lost its thrill a long time ago. Of course, sometimes I have to, if I need some money or for other practical reasons. But I find it much more interesting to make people do things they won’t admit to wanting. Know what I mean?”
“Lady, we do not want to do this,” Dean said, fighting to keep his voice steady. Sam’s hands had risen to touch him again, thumbs stroking his hip bones. Their heat was like a brand. Dean could feel the spreading warmth on his cheeks and low in his pelvis as his body reacted to the touch. Anyone would, he thought. It was just a physical thing. Not because it was Sammy.
“You most certainly do,” the witch said. “Sam has wanted this since he was – what was it, Sam? Twelve?”
Sam said nothing. His face was still against Dean’s hip, eyes shut. His hot breath ghosting across Dean’s cock was not helping matters at all.
“And you, Dean,” the witch continued. “I took a look inside you when you were unconscious. You’ve done your best to ignore it, but it’s all there.”
It felt like she was unzipping his brain. Dean’s mind was suddenly flooded with memories: half-forgotten fantasies he’d always squashed; dreams that had sent him crawling into a bottle and the nearest cute waitress’ pants to forget. Sam laughing. Sam’s hand on his arm.
“Get out of my head!” Dean snarled, shaking his head like it would throw her free. “We’re brothers. We love each other, but for fuck’s sake, not like that – ”
Sam’s hands slid to grab his ass, and Sam made a strangled noise as his mouth was suddenly around Dean’s cock. Dean was still soft, but that changed quickly as Sam’s lips and tongue worked on him.
“No,” Dean groaned, head falling back. He strained against his bonds, but he was strapped down tight.
“You should thank me for this,” the witch said airily. “I’m giving you what you both wanted but were too ashamed to admit. I’m even giving you an excuse. ‘The witch made me do my brother.’” She laughed again.
Dean was all the way hard now – he couldn’t help it – and Sam had taken him deep. His cheeks were hollowed and his eyes were still shut as he bobbed his head. His hands squeezed Dean’s ass. One of his fingers brushed Dean’s hole, and Dean’s hips jerked. With mounting horror, Dean realized how good Sam was at this, or how good the witch was forcing him to be. Dean could already feel his orgasm building. He shut his eyes and tried to think about something else, but he felt the witch in his head again. Against his will, his eyes opened and he looked down.
Just enjoy it, the witch said in his head. Dean could feel her demolishing his defenses, his attempts to hold back.
“Sammy,” he said, voice hoarse and desperate. “You gotta fight her. I can’t stop – I’m gonna – ”
Sam made a noise like he was trying to answer, and the vibration tipped Dean over the edge. He gave a low moan of despair as he came down his brother’s throat.
He hung his head, trying to hide, as shame washed over him. Unfortunately, this gave him a perfect view as Sam pulled off him slowly and sat back on his heels to reveal his erection, flushed dark with blood. As Dean stared, unable to tear his eyes away, Sam’s cock twitched, a bead of precome oozed out of the tip.
That’s not me, said the witch in Dean’s head. He just wanted you that badly, darling.
“I’m so sorry, Sam,” Dean said, ignoring her. “I couldn’t stop.”
“It’s not your fault, Dean,” Sam said in a choked voice. “It’s not your fault.”
“Why are you doing this?” Dean demanded of the witch. She smirked.
“Well, you were coming to kill me,” she said, nodding towards the bedside table. Dean saw their guns, loaded with witch-killing bullets.
“Then why not just kill us?” Dean said. “Are you that sadistic?”
The witch tilted her head to the side. “I suppose so,” she said thoughtfully. “But honestly, you’re both so very pretty. When I saw in your heads how you really felt about each other, I couldn’t resist the urge to watch. You look lovely together, you know.” In Dean’s head there was suddenly an image from her perspective: Sam on his knees in front of Dean, Dean’s cock in his mouth, Dean’s head thrown back. Dean shuddered and saw Sam do the same; he’d seen it too, then.
The witch sat up and clasped her hands together, smiling jubilantly. “Now! Sam hasn’t gotten to come yet, which hardly seems fair. Sam, you’ll untie him now.”
Sam unbuckled the straps from Dean’s ankles and got to his feet, moving stiffly. Dean shot him a look communicating his intention to attack the witch as soon as he was free, but Sam just gave a minute shake of his head. Sure enough, once Dean was unbound, he found himself still unable to move, held in place by the witch’s control. It felt like a steel band around his brain.
Dean found himself laying down on his back on the large bed, his body moving at the witch’s silent command. She’d moved over. The bed was warm where she’d been. Dean shivered, and again when Sam’s hands landed on his thighs. Sam towered over him for an instant, his pained eyes on Dean’s face, and then he was kissing Dean’s chest. His mouth was hot. Dean’s back arched into it, and he was horrified to realize that the witch wasn’t making him do that.
“You see?” the witch said. “You want this as badly as he wants to do it to you.” She sighed happily. “Hunters are fun. So many issues.”
Sam was making pained little whimpers as he kissed his way down Dean’s body, hands smoothing over Dean’s skin. Dean couldn’t tell if the noises coming from Sam were more distress or desire.
The witch handed Sam a couple pillows. Mechanically, Sam shoved them under Dean’s hips. Dean’s face flamed as the witch made him spread his legs wide. The witch passed Sam a small bottle. Sam didn’t look at Dean as he opened it and slicked his fingers.
Dean’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath at the first cool touch against his hole. He couldn’t suppress a moan as Sam’s index finger slid slowly inside him. The witch wouldn’t let him keep the sound in. God help him, it felt good. And he couldn’t pretend to himself anymore that he didn’t want his brother; the witch kept laying bare more and more thoughts and desires Dean had denied for years. For the better part of a lifetime.
But he didn’t want it like this, damn her.
She wasn’t giving them a choice, though. Dean heard her laugh softly as Sam worked him open until he was pumping Dean’s hole with three fingers and Dean was hard again, hips meeting the motion of Sam’s hand.
“I think he’s ready,” the witch said, grinning. Sam pulled out his fingers and slicked up his cock, grabbed one of Dean’s legs and threw it over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam said hollowly, positioned at Dean’s entrance. “I’m so sorry. She won’t let me stop.”
“Sammy – ” Dean said, trying to figure out what to say. He couldn’t think of anything, and then the air rushed out of his lungs as Sam pushed inside him. It was wonderful and it was horrible, because if this was going to happen it should be between them, not in front of some crazy witch.
“Sam,” the witch said. “Honestly, there’s no reason for you to feel so guilty. Your big brother is just loving this. See?”
There was a shift in Dean’s head and suddenly he could feel Sam in there, too, his arousal and shame and self-flagellation. Unthinking, Dean’s hand shot out to grab Sam’s arm. The witch let him.
“It’s okay,” Dean said quietly. “It’s not your fault.” He gave in, letting his desire and pleasure come to the surface of his mind, letting Sam see that he wanted this, too, even if the situation was a thousand kinds of wrong.
Finally, finally, Sam met his eyes. Sam was blinking back tears. “Dean…” he said.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean repeated.
“Awww,” the witch said. She was beaming. They could feel her triumph in their minds.
“Great, you proved your point,” Dean snapped at her. “We admitted we want each other, can we go now?”
The witch threw back her head and laughed. “You are an absolute delight,” she said, leaning over to boop Dean on the nose. Dean flinched. “I wish I could keep you two around for awhile. But it’s just too much work.” She smiled fondly at Sam. “You go ahead and move now, darling.”
Sam stuttered into motion, the witch setting a slow, steady rhythm. Dean groaned, fisting the bedsheets in his hands. Sam filling him up felt way too good, even through the haze of shame and guilt they were both feeling and could see in each other. He could sense the witch’s growing excitement and arousal, too, as Sam started to thrust faster. Even though he hated it and hated her, her enjoyment sparked something in his brain. Or maybe she was just making him think he liked it. Dean couldn’t keep track anymore. His head ached and his cock ached with arousal; he wondered if she was going to make him come untouched.
“Tempting, but no,” she said, and Sam’s hand was on his dick, pumping in time with the rhythm of his hips. Another moan escaped Dean’s lips. The witch hummed in a pleased fashion. Her legs were squeezed together tight, and Dean knew somehow that she was going to come when he did. It was awful, like she was stealing the pleasure she’d forced on him in the first place.
Sam started thrusting faster. He was giving Dean the full puppy dog eyes and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, but Dean could feel how much he’d wanted this, too.
Sammy, it’s okay, he thought, trying to will it so that only Sam could hear.
To their surprise, it seemed to work.
Dean. Sam’s mental voice was urgent. The witch still didn’t react, just watching them intently, breathing hard.
She’s gonna come when I do, Dean thought at Sam frantically. Maybe for just a second, she won’t be in control –
Got it, Sam said. Get ready.
He sped up again, jerking Dean in fast, rough strokes that left Dean gasping. It wasn’t long before he felt his second orgasm approaching.
Dean heard the witch cry out when he did. Now, Sam! he screamed silently, trying as best he could to shove her control away, grateful for once that women’s orgasms lasted longer than men’s. Sam dove for the guns – and then froze in the middle of the action, hand outstretched.
“Now, now,” the witch said playfully. She sounded amused and relaxed. Satisfied. Dean felt nauseous.
“That’s not very polite of you,” she continued.
“Lady, we are way past polite,” Dean spit. She laughed.
“No one ever appreciates my gifts,” she said, mock-mournfully. “And we were all having such a nice time.” She sat up. Sam moved mechanically until he was sitting back on his heels, fearful eyes on her face.
She tsked at him. “You’re going to have to be punished for that,” she said. Dean tensed, fear and anger rising fast. “You don’t get to finish.” She raised her chin and smirked at him. Sam blinked.
“That’s it?” he said.
She sighed and hopped off the bed. “I’m disappointed too,” she said. She grabbed hold of a suitcase by the door. “Well, I’m off. Never fear – I’ll go somewhere else for the remainder of your natural lifespans. You only cover the continental U.S., isn’t that right? Maybe I’ll try Hawaii. I hear great things, and do you know I’ve never been?”
Sam and Dean looked at each other, reading the confusion on each other’s faces.
“You’re…not going to kill us?” Dean said, feeling like he should probably not be pushing his luck but so thrown by this turn of events that he had to ask.
The witch looked shocked. “Gracious, no!” she said. “When we’ve had such fun together?” Sam and Dean gaped at her. “Anyway, I may have a sadistic side, but I’m not a murderer. What need have I to kill, anyway?”
Sam and Dean stared at her.
“Oh!” she said. “But of course I can’t have you following me, so you’ll have to go to sleep for awhile.” She smiled affectionately at them. “Good to meet you boys. Take care of each other.” She sighed. “I know you will. You have such a beautiful love.”
Blackness overtook them.
***
Dean woke up to Sam shaking him, staring down at him with fear in his eyes.
“I’m all right,” Dean said quickly, as soon as his thoughts were more or less together. “You?” Sam nodded and started to pull out of him, which set off a cascade of confusing, conflicting emotions in Dean. Horror at what had happened. Relief that this was over and the witch couldn’t force them to do anything else. A deeply disturbing shadow of arousal. A spike of fear at what this could mean for their future.
They pulled on their clothes as quickly as they could and hightailed it out of the hotel. As Dean started the car and sped off down the street, he reflected that it felt strange to be alone in his head again. It was way, way better not to have the witch in there, of course. And it wasn’t as though he’d want Sam in there all the time.
But it had really helped to know what Sam was thinking. Dean glanced at his brother. Sam was turned away from him, forehead leaning on the window. It looked like he was doing his best to curl his giant frame in on itself. He wasn’t particularly succeeding, but still, it worried Dean to see it.
“You okay?” Dean asked hoarsely.
“Dean, I’m so sorry,” Sam said dully.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Dean said immediately.
“Doesn’t really help,” Sam mumbled.
Dean glanced again at Sam’s still form. He realized with a sinking feeling that Sam seemed to be putting as much space between them as he possibly could. And fuck, who could blame him after what they’d been through? Another day, another trauma for the Winchesters. If they ever got therapy, they could probably keep a whole team of shrinks employed for life.
Dean sighed and kept driving through the night.
***
They moved around the bunker and around each other with strained carefulness for almost a week. Dean knew what he wanted now: Sam. He tried to shut it off, close that door, but his usual methods of repression weren’t working. The witch had opened his eyes, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t close them again. He wanted them to be together. Him and Sam, like it was supposed to be.
But he didn’t know what Sam wanted. Sam was barely talking, giving Dean forced smiles and only brief responses whenever Dean tried to start a conversation. Sam kept to his room most of the time. His door was shut. Dean had no idea what was going on in Sam’s head. He caught himself wishing he could read Sam’s thoughts and emotions like he had when the witch had linked them. He shuddered at the memory of her presence in their minds.
Finally, Dean decided that enough was enough. They couldn’t keep on like this. He went out and picked up some dinner for them. When he got back to the bunker, he hammered on Sam’s bedroom door.
“Come on out, Sammy, grub time,” he shouted.
“I’m not hungry,” Sam called back. “Maybe later.”
“Come on, I got you a salad from that place you like.”
“Just stick it in the fridge.”
“Sam, get out here or I’m kicking the door down,” Dean said, exasperated.
There was a brief silence and then the door opened. Sam looked out him warily.
“I really couldn’t eat right now,” he said quietly.
Dean swallowed. This was even harder in person than it had been when he was trying to plan it. “Well, then – just talk to me, man,” he burst out. “Come on. You’re wandering around this place like a ghost. I feel like I should be burning your corpse.”
Sam cracked a slight smile. “I’ll be okay, Dean,” he said. “I just need some time.” Pain flashed across his features. “I have to get my head on straight.”
“Talk to me about it,” Dean insisted. Sam hesitated. Dean spread his hands. “Come on, dude. I’m offering to have some chick flick-y conversation. Me! This is a golden opportunity you shouldn’t let go to waste. I thought you were gonna jump at the chance.”
Sam smiled a little bit more, dimples flashing for just a second. He nodded. “Okay. Let’s put the food away and I’ll try.”
“Screw the food,” Dean said, dropping the bag to the floor and crowding past Sam into the bedroom. He was afraid that Sam would find some way to wriggle out of it if they didn’t start talking right this second.
Sam hesitated a moment, then turned to Dean with a resigned look.
“I’m not really sure what to say,” he began.
“I do,” Dean interrupted. “Look, what happened to us was fucked up. Beyond fucked up. But it wasn’t your fault.” It looked like Sam was about to protest. “None of it was your fault, Sam! How can you even think that?”
“Besides the fact that she used my body to – to – do what she did to you?” Sam demanded.
“Yeah – she used you, Sammy. It wasn’t you.”
Sam bit his lip, shoulders slumping. “But, Dean…I wanted it. Not like that, of course, but I did want to.” He winced. “You don’t understand. A part of me enjoyed it. Just like she said.” His eyes were on the floor now, hair partially obscuring his face. “I always wanted to be with you, and I finally got to, because she made us.”
“I wanted it too,” Dean said. “I was a lot better than you were at repressing it, I guess, but she showed me. As for enjoying it – ” He snorted. “I came twice. You think I don’t feel fucked up about that?”
Sam shook his head. “She made me do it to you,” he said, so quietly Dean barely caught the words.
Dean took a deep breath, trying to work up the nerve for the part of this conversation he really didn’t know how to have. It’s for Sammy, he reminded himself. He feels like shit and maybe, just maybe, this’ll help. Dean was very much doing this for himself, too, but it was a lot easier to think about the part that was for Sam.
“The thing is,” he made himself say, “I still want to. Um. Again. Or – like, for real. Without some crazy witch in our heads making us into her own personal Pinocchios.”
Sam sucked in a breath and finally met Dean’s eyes again. He looked shocked, almost shaken. “You want that?” he gasped.
“No, it was a funny joke I was telling just now,” Dean said, trying to mask his discomfort. “Yeah, that’s what I said and I meant it.”
A light that had sparked in Sam’s eyes quickly dwindled. He looked downcast again. “I want to, too,” he said. He squeezed his hands into fists at his side. “So much, Dean. You don’t even know – ” He sighed. “But I don’t know if I can. How can I touch you, after what she made me do?”
“I don’t care about that,” Dean said staunchly, not entirely sure if he was telling the truth. Whatever – they could work out limits later. “I know it wasn’t you.”
Sam shook his head. “It was so awful, Dean. I’m not trying to say it was worse than what you went through, or anything – just…” He wiped his eyes. Dean’s chest ached like he was feeling Sam’s pain, like they were still linked.
“Just what?” Dean forced calm into his voice.
“I don’t know if I can do it again,” Sam whispered. Dean saw more tears drop from his eyes.
“But you want to?” Dean asked desperately. “You’d want to, if we could figure out a way?”
Sam stared at him for a long moment. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I really, really want to.”
Dean gave a short nod, mind racing. He considered just giving Sam his salad and leaving him alone for awhile. Maybe they’d gotten as far as they could today. It was better than nothing, for sure.
Suddenly a thought struck him.
“She didn’t make us kiss,” he said. Sam blinked at him.
“What?”
“The witch never made us kiss,” Dean said. “So she couldn’t have ruined that, right?”
Sam nodded slowly. “I guess…probably not.” Hope made his face a little brighter.
“Do – do you want to try it, then?” Dean asked. Sam stared at him. Dean held up his hands. “Uh, only if you want to, man. No worries if it’s too much right now.”
Sam took a step towards him, reaching out, then froze for a second. His hand dropped abruptly and he rocked back on his heels.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t just come at you like that.”
“It’s okay,” Dean said, although if he was being completely honest, Sam moving towards him unexpectedly that way had been kind of startling. He wondered if it had shown on his face.
Dean bridged the gap between them, standing close to Sam and reaching up slowly to touch Sam’s face. His thumb brushed Sam’s cheekbone.
Sam closed his eyes and gave a shuddery exhale, leaning into Dean’s palm.
“Okay, little brother?” Dean asked in a low, quiet voice.
“Yeah.” Sam’s voice was rough.
“You want to stop with this for now?”
Sam shook his head. “No,” he said. He opened his eyes. “Please don’t stop.”
Dean craned his neck upwards and exerted a little pressure on the back of Sam’s neck. The meeting of their lips was gentle, but Dean could still feel the enormity of it in his whole body. A weight of worry and wonder seemed to settle on his chest. Sam’s lips were warm. Dean could taste toothpaste with the shadow of coffee underneath. He fought the urge to press in harder. After a moment, he pulled back a little, not releasing Sam.
“Enough?” he said.
“No,” Sam whispered. “You?”
Dean shook his head, trying to slow his racing heart. “How about we sit down? I’m going to get a neck cramp from this, you gargantuan.”
Sam smiled as they sat down on the bed; there and gone, but it had been a real smile.
Sam waited for Dean to take the lead again. Dean didn’t hesitate, cupping Sam’s jaw and kissing him again. They kissed for a long time, gentle at first but slowly building until they were both breathing hard and Dean was trying not to squirm in a way that seemed like it would be really embarrassing.
Sam’s fingertips brushed Dean’s knee and Dean jumped, startled. Sam jerked back, staring into Dean’s face with wide, panicked eyes.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dean said. “You just surprised me.” He wasn’t certain that was all of it, though. He blew out a breath. “Maybe that’s enough for today.”
Sam nodded quickly, eyes downcast. Dean carded his fingers through Sam’s hair.
“It’s all right, Sammy,” he said quietly. “It’s gonna take a little time. At least we get to, right?”
Sam finally met his gaze again. “Yeah,” he said. The vulnerability on his face made Dean’s heart hurt. He leaned in and pressed a final, soft kiss to Sam’s lips. He felt Sam relax a little.
“Eat your rabbit food,” Dean added sternly as he rose and left the room. He totally forgot about his own lunch as he hurried down the hall to his own room and shut the door. He was so hard he could barely see straight. He flopped down on his back, shoved his pants down, and jerked himself off roughly, not bothering to take his time. It didn’t take long and he came with a stifled groan, wishing it was Sam’s hand on his cock.
It wasn’t until later that he realized that was the first time he’d felt like jerking off since the night with the witch.
***
Over the next couple weeks, Sam and Dean hooked up every day. They kissed again and again, for ages, and touched each other so gently that Dean started to think he was going to go out of his mind. They got as far as taking their shirts off. Dean thought he’d never felt anything so good as Sam’s chest pressed up against his, the skin-on-skin contact addictive in its perfection.
But every time they tried to go further, they hit a wall. Dean would flinch, unable to stifle the memories and the reaction that came with it. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want this, but he couldn’t help worrying that something would go wrong. If Sam accidentally went too far or too fast, it could set them back. And Sam was just as terrified. Half the time it was him flinching away. Dean wasn’t sure what would happen to Sam if he made a mistake and upset Dean. Sam already seemed to be drowning in guilt. Dean was starting to worry that they’d never get further than making out and grinding up against each other like a couple of teenagers.
Then, Sam and his nerdiness came through in a big way.
“Dean!” Sam burst into the kitchen brandishing a large book, his eyes wild with excitement. “Dean, I found something.” He shook the book at Dean.
Dean raised his eyebrows. “What the fuck could be in a book that has you this excited?” he asked.
“A telepathy spell,” Sam said triumphantly.
Dean blinked. “For who?”
Sam looked exasperated. “For us! We can use it the next time we want to be together. And then I’ll know if I’m going too fast and you’ll know if I’m getting anxious...faster than we could verbalize it. So we won’t have to be so scared to move to the next level.”
Dean nodded slowly, feeling trepidation but also a fierce longing. To know Sam that well… “I mean, it sounds good, but what if it’s too much?” he said.
“We can always end it if we don’t like it,” Sam said. “It’s easy. And there’s another one right next to it to help you shut out everything that you don’t want to share. So we’ll only know what we want each other to know.”
Dean felt relieved. “That’s good, yeah,” he said. “I mean, no offense, but there’s like, private stuff in there.”
Sam grinned. “For me too,” he said. “We both need our own mental space, but – ” He looked longingly at Dean. “It sounds good. I – ” He stopped suddenly, bit his lip. His gaze fell to the floor.
Dean took an automatic half-step towards him. “It’s okay, Sam,” he said. The words were like a mantra these days. “You can tell me. What were you going to say?”
Sam took a deep breath. “The…the sex wasn’t the only thing with the witch that I enjoyed more than I should have,” he said quietly. “I liked when our minds were connected, too. Being so close with you.”
Dean felt a thrill. “Yeah,” he said quickly, not wanting Sam to think he was alone in this. “Me too.”
Sam looked up and smiled again, brilliant and making Dean feel a rush of love so intense it almost hurt.
***
The spell was done. They were in Sam’s room. Dean felt the first tentative brush of his brother’s mind against his. The staggering intimacy of it made his breath catch. It felt so good to be linked to Sam like this. He could feel Sam’s amazed joy at his reaction.
Sam was staring at him, open-mouthed. With one long stride he closed the gap between them, cupped Dean’s face in his palm, and pressed their lips together. Dean damn near melted against him, reaching up to grasp Sam’s shirt. It was the first time Sam had taken the lead like that, without fear.
Because I knew what you wanted, Sam said in Dean’s mind. His tongue slipped into Dean’s mouth and Dean gave a low moan. He kissed Sam back desperately, half-hard already, hips rocking against Sam’s.
It was like everything had clicked into place. They were together, the way they always should have been. Dean felt a surge of regret that they hadn’t done this sooner. That the freaking Psycho Witch of the West had to be the one to show them what they needed.
Sam chuckled softly. But we have it now, he said. Dean could feel the relief and elation behind his words. Sam slid his hands under Dean’s T-shirt, going achingly slowly. Dean wanted him to go faster, but he knew this was exactly the pace he needed. Now Sam knew it, too.
Sam, fuck, was all Dean could think. It felt strange and a little uncomfortable to talk telepathically, but he was determined to get used to it fast. He reached out a hand to unbutton Sam’s shirt, hesitating for only a split second before he felt Sam’s assenting surge of desire.
They undressed each other carefully, pausing often to kiss each other’s lips and skin. Once they were naked and laying on the bed, they still didn’t touch each other below the belt for awhile, by silent mutual agreement. They kissed and ran their hands over each other, just like they’d been doing for days. Only now they could feel each other’s every spark of pleasure, too. Dean felt almost giddy with how good it all was.
He reached out first, running his fingers over Sam’s cock, listening to Sam’s breath and feeling Sam’s spike of lust when he finally wrapped his hand around it and gave it a few gentle tugs. Sam gasped and let his head fall on Dean’s shoulder for a moment while Dean worked him slowly.
Dean could feel in his head how much Sam wanted to touch him, too. Do it, he urged, need flooding him. Sam moved at a snail’s pace, checking in with him constantly. An instant before he made contact, Dean felt a little bit of panic, telegraphed it just a little too slowly, and jerked away when Sam’s fingers brushed his erection. Sam stopped the instant he realized what was wrong and they both froze, hearts pounding, minds crashing with worry and guilt. And then they reached out for each other with love and reassurance, drowning each other’s doubts and fears. It all happened at the speed of thought and only a couple seconds passed before they were both laughing with relief.
“Should we stop?” Sam asked aloud.
Dean shook his head. “You stop and I’ll friggin’ kill you,” he growled. He kissed Sam fiercely, let him see his need.
Sam went even slower. Now, he told Dean before he touched him, waiting to feel that Dean was ready. This time, when his long fingers wrapped around Dean’s shaft, it was pure pleasure.
Fuck, Dean gasped silently. Oh, fuck, Sammy…
They’d agreed to keep it to handjobs this first time. Although a part of Dean had wanted to protest – god, he wanted so much with Sam – he had to admit, this was fucking awesome. And it was probably as much as either of them could take right now. Even if it wasn’t for the witch messing them up, just the idea of being together like this was overwhelming.
Plus, there was something about the simplicity of this that Dean loved. Their foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air as the relentless build of pleasure went on and on. And fuck, getting to feel what Sam was feeling made it a million times better.
Even though time seemed lengthened, magnified somehow, Dean could tell it wasn’t actually that long before they were both getting close. No surprise, considering the weeks – years, really – of buildup. Dean kissed Sam desperately, because he wanted to and because he wanted to extend this another minute. He wanted to come, but he didn’t want this to end.
This isn’t going to be the last time, Sam assured him. Dean thought he might literally light up from the glow of anticipation and joy he felt from his brother. They were both panting now, jerking each other fast, knowing exactly the right angle and movement. Dean squeezed Sam’s shoulder with his free hand. He could feel Sam tipping over the edge.
Love you, Sam said as he came, and the feeling of it shocked Dean into coming right with him. He couldn’t say it back yet, not like that, but for just a second, he let Sam see the depths of his love, too.
Sam kissed him again, hard. They clung together, trying to get as close as they possibly could. Dean stroked Sam’s back and Sam ran his fingers through Dean’s hair as they came down.
Should we end the spell? Sam asked uncertainly. He didn’t want to, not yet. Neither did Dean.
In a minute, he said. He felt Sam give a quiet, internal sigh. Sam felt a little sad. Dean tried to fight back his knee-jerk worry.
What is it? he asked.
“I was just thinking that we shouldn’t – I mean, this spell is great,” Sam said aloud. “I think it’s really good for us right now. But I just don’t want to, you know, depend on it. We should be able to communicate normal ways, too. The book advises against long-term or too frequent use…” He fell silent. Dean could almost taste his disappointment.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” he said, pressing a kiss to Sam’s chest. “We’ll get better. We were getting better without it – it’s just a crutch, right? It’ll help us out for the time being, then eventually we won’t need it anymore.” He raised his head and kissed Sam fervently.
We’ll figure it out, he said. Because I’m not ever giving this up again. He made sure Sam saw his determination.
Sam smiled. Me, either, he said fiercely. Never.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, female witch OC
Rating: Explicit/NC-17
Word Count: 6,520
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: A witch with mind control powers makes Sam and Dean have sex with each other for the first time, forcing them to confront their desire for one other. Afterwards, they find their way back to intimacy and to healing.
Warnings/tags: Sibling incest, non-con, first time, mind control, mind control aftermath and recovery, mind rape, blow jobs, anal sex, kissing, making out, hand jobs, telepathy, guilt, shame, emotional hurt/comfort, explicit images embedded
A/N: This was written for the
wincestbigbang. Please show my always-wonderful artist blindswandive some love on the art masterpost! I can't thank you enough for the ridiculously gorgeous art. Many thanks also to my dear friend Nevanna for an extremely helpful beta job on this story.Read on AO3
***
Their mistake, Dean thought later, had been going into the penthouse.
Never go after a witch on her home turf. That’s what Dad had always said. Who knew what kind of spells they might have in place? You could end up dead the second you set foot in the door. But there had been no actual bodies reported, just weird events.
It started with the CEO of a deeply conservative organization known for its homophobia calling a press conference, announcing that he was gay and kissing his lover in front of everyone. Then, a career thief had robbed a bank without trying to hide her identity at all; she’d been caught but the money had vanished. She claimed someone had been in her head and made her do it. Finally, a murderer had confessed to a thirty-year-old cold case with no provocation, then tried to plead insanity, insisting that he hadn’t been in his right mind when he gave his statement.
It had all been strange, but they’d thought that the witch was probably new to it, perhaps not very powerful yet. Dean wondered later if she’d been in their heads since they first rolled into town. Leading them to take stupid risks they never should have considered until she had them in her clutches. Why hadn’t they tried to find a charm or an amulet that worked against mind control magic before they went to confront her? Mind control had been their working theory. It certainly couldn’t have hurt to have one. But they hadn’t.
Dean had only clung to consciousness long enough to see Sam’s eyes roll back in his head as he dropped to the ground. And then Dean had caught sight of the floor rushing up to meet him before blackness swallowed him.
***
Dean woke up woozily, realizing that he was 1.) naked and 2.) tied to a Saint Andrew’s cross. He wasn’t sure which of these things was more alarming. Actually, he knew, and it was the secret third option: the fact that Sam was kneeling in front of him, also naked, his wrists cuffed behind his back. Sam’s face was flushed and his eyes were trained on the floor.
Dean tore his gaze from his brother and looked around the room, which was all cream and gold and ridiculously expensive. Just a few feet away was a luxuriant bed, and the witch, luxuriating on it.
She was gorgeous; curvaceous with long, wavy chestnut hair and dark eyes that tilted up a little at the corners. She was wearing a tight black dress, which was a total cliché, but Dean had to admit she looked great in it. Under other circumstances, he would have been very pleased to have a woman like that enter his life, or even just his field of vision.
Unfortunately, he was tied up in a witch’s modern-style sex torture dungeon, or something, and it made it sort of difficult to enjoy a beautiful woman. Even when her mouth curved into a smile that lit up her face, so truly happy it was almost inviting.
“Sam,” she said. “He’s awake.” She flicked her wrist towards him in a lazy motion. The cuffs on Sam’s wrists opened and fell to the floor.
For a split second, Dean dared to hope that they were in for a kinky night with someone who was kind of twisted and didn’t have a lot of respect for prior consent but would be pretty fun in the end. The hope died when Sam looked up at him, his face stricken.
“Dean,” he whispered. “She’s in my head. I’m sorry. I can’t…” He reached out woodenly, like he was a marionette. Dean realized with a shudder that Sam pretty much was a puppet. Sam’s fingers trailed lightly along Dean’s side, making Dean’s skin break out in gooseflesh.
The witch was laying on her side, head in her hand, watching them. “You’re not that sorry, are you, Sam?”
“Let him go!” Dean growled, voice hard.
“But he’s enjoying himself,” the witch said innocently. Against his better judgment, Dean looked down and saw that Sam was half-hard already, his cheeks crimson with shame. Dean felt a sinking dread as Sam leaned forward and nuzzled his hip, lips brushing the sensitive skin.
“She hit you with some kind of aphrodisiac, Sammy?” Dean asked, noting how Sam twitched at the familiar nickname.
“Oh, I didn’t have to,” the witch purred. “To be honest, making people do things they don’t want to do lost its thrill a long time ago. Of course, sometimes I have to, if I need some money or for other practical reasons. But I find it much more interesting to make people do things they won’t admit to wanting. Know what I mean?”
“Lady, we do not want to do this,” Dean said, fighting to keep his voice steady. Sam’s hands had risen to touch him again, thumbs stroking his hip bones. Their heat was like a brand. Dean could feel the spreading warmth on his cheeks and low in his pelvis as his body reacted to the touch. Anyone would, he thought. It was just a physical thing. Not because it was Sammy.
“You most certainly do,” the witch said. “Sam has wanted this since he was – what was it, Sam? Twelve?”
Sam said nothing. His face was still against Dean’s hip, eyes shut. His hot breath ghosting across Dean’s cock was not helping matters at all.
“And you, Dean,” the witch continued. “I took a look inside you when you were unconscious. You’ve done your best to ignore it, but it’s all there.”
It felt like she was unzipping his brain. Dean’s mind was suddenly flooded with memories: half-forgotten fantasies he’d always squashed; dreams that had sent him crawling into a bottle and the nearest cute waitress’ pants to forget. Sam laughing. Sam’s hand on his arm.
“Get out of my head!” Dean snarled, shaking his head like it would throw her free. “We’re brothers. We love each other, but for fuck’s sake, not like that – ”
Sam’s hands slid to grab his ass, and Sam made a strangled noise as his mouth was suddenly around Dean’s cock. Dean was still soft, but that changed quickly as Sam’s lips and tongue worked on him.
“No,” Dean groaned, head falling back. He strained against his bonds, but he was strapped down tight.
“You should thank me for this,” the witch said airily. “I’m giving you what you both wanted but were too ashamed to admit. I’m even giving you an excuse. ‘The witch made me do my brother.’” She laughed again.
Dean was all the way hard now – he couldn’t help it – and Sam had taken him deep. His cheeks were hollowed and his eyes were still shut as he bobbed his head. His hands squeezed Dean’s ass. One of his fingers brushed Dean’s hole, and Dean’s hips jerked. With mounting horror, Dean realized how good Sam was at this, or how good the witch was forcing him to be. Dean could already feel his orgasm building. He shut his eyes and tried to think about something else, but he felt the witch in his head again. Against his will, his eyes opened and he looked down.
Just enjoy it, the witch said in his head. Dean could feel her demolishing his defenses, his attempts to hold back.
“Sammy,” he said, voice hoarse and desperate. “You gotta fight her. I can’t stop – I’m gonna – ”
Sam made a noise like he was trying to answer, and the vibration tipped Dean over the edge. He gave a low moan of despair as he came down his brother’s throat.
He hung his head, trying to hide, as shame washed over him. Unfortunately, this gave him a perfect view as Sam pulled off him slowly and sat back on his heels to reveal his erection, flushed dark with blood. As Dean stared, unable to tear his eyes away, Sam’s cock twitched, a bead of precome oozed out of the tip.
That’s not me, said the witch in Dean’s head. He just wanted you that badly, darling.
“I’m so sorry, Sam,” Dean said, ignoring her. “I couldn’t stop.”
“It’s not your fault, Dean,” Sam said in a choked voice. “It’s not your fault.”
“Why are you doing this?” Dean demanded of the witch. She smirked.
“Well, you were coming to kill me,” she said, nodding towards the bedside table. Dean saw their guns, loaded with witch-killing bullets.
“Then why not just kill us?” Dean said. “Are you that sadistic?”
The witch tilted her head to the side. “I suppose so,” she said thoughtfully. “But honestly, you’re both so very pretty. When I saw in your heads how you really felt about each other, I couldn’t resist the urge to watch. You look lovely together, you know.” In Dean’s head there was suddenly an image from her perspective: Sam on his knees in front of Dean, Dean’s cock in his mouth, Dean’s head thrown back. Dean shuddered and saw Sam do the same; he’d seen it too, then.
The witch sat up and clasped her hands together, smiling jubilantly. “Now! Sam hasn’t gotten to come yet, which hardly seems fair. Sam, you’ll untie him now.”
Sam unbuckled the straps from Dean’s ankles and got to his feet, moving stiffly. Dean shot him a look communicating his intention to attack the witch as soon as he was free, but Sam just gave a minute shake of his head. Sure enough, once Dean was unbound, he found himself still unable to move, held in place by the witch’s control. It felt like a steel band around his brain.
Dean found himself laying down on his back on the large bed, his body moving at the witch’s silent command. She’d moved over. The bed was warm where she’d been. Dean shivered, and again when Sam’s hands landed on his thighs. Sam towered over him for an instant, his pained eyes on Dean’s face, and then he was kissing Dean’s chest. His mouth was hot. Dean’s back arched into it, and he was horrified to realize that the witch wasn’t making him do that.
“You see?” the witch said. “You want this as badly as he wants to do it to you.” She sighed happily. “Hunters are fun. So many issues.”
Sam was making pained little whimpers as he kissed his way down Dean’s body, hands smoothing over Dean’s skin. Dean couldn’t tell if the noises coming from Sam were more distress or desire.
The witch handed Sam a couple pillows. Mechanically, Sam shoved them under Dean’s hips. Dean’s face flamed as the witch made him spread his legs wide. The witch passed Sam a small bottle. Sam didn’t look at Dean as he opened it and slicked his fingers.
Dean’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath at the first cool touch against his hole. He couldn’t suppress a moan as Sam’s index finger slid slowly inside him. The witch wouldn’t let him keep the sound in. God help him, it felt good. And he couldn’t pretend to himself anymore that he didn’t want his brother; the witch kept laying bare more and more thoughts and desires Dean had denied for years. For the better part of a lifetime.
But he didn’t want it like this, damn her.
She wasn’t giving them a choice, though. Dean heard her laugh softly as Sam worked him open until he was pumping Dean’s hole with three fingers and Dean was hard again, hips meeting the motion of Sam’s hand.
“I think he’s ready,” the witch said, grinning. Sam pulled out his fingers and slicked up his cock, grabbed one of Dean’s legs and threw it over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam said hollowly, positioned at Dean’s entrance. “I’m so sorry. She won’t let me stop.”
“Sammy – ” Dean said, trying to figure out what to say. He couldn’t think of anything, and then the air rushed out of his lungs as Sam pushed inside him. It was wonderful and it was horrible, because if this was going to happen it should be between them, not in front of some crazy witch.
“Sam,” the witch said. “Honestly, there’s no reason for you to feel so guilty. Your big brother is just loving this. See?”
There was a shift in Dean’s head and suddenly he could feel Sam in there, too, his arousal and shame and self-flagellation. Unthinking, Dean’s hand shot out to grab Sam’s arm. The witch let him.
“It’s okay,” Dean said quietly. “It’s not your fault.” He gave in, letting his desire and pleasure come to the surface of his mind, letting Sam see that he wanted this, too, even if the situation was a thousand kinds of wrong.
Finally, finally, Sam met his eyes. Sam was blinking back tears. “Dean…” he said.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean repeated.
“Awww,” the witch said. She was beaming. They could feel her triumph in their minds.
“Great, you proved your point,” Dean snapped at her. “We admitted we want each other, can we go now?”
The witch threw back her head and laughed. “You are an absolute delight,” she said, leaning over to boop Dean on the nose. Dean flinched. “I wish I could keep you two around for awhile. But it’s just too much work.” She smiled fondly at Sam. “You go ahead and move now, darling.”
Sam stuttered into motion, the witch setting a slow, steady rhythm. Dean groaned, fisting the bedsheets in his hands. Sam filling him up felt way too good, even through the haze of shame and guilt they were both feeling and could see in each other. He could sense the witch’s growing excitement and arousal, too, as Sam started to thrust faster. Even though he hated it and hated her, her enjoyment sparked something in his brain. Or maybe she was just making him think he liked it. Dean couldn’t keep track anymore. His head ached and his cock ached with arousal; he wondered if she was going to make him come untouched.
“Tempting, but no,” she said, and Sam’s hand was on his dick, pumping in time with the rhythm of his hips. Another moan escaped Dean’s lips. The witch hummed in a pleased fashion. Her legs were squeezed together tight, and Dean knew somehow that she was going to come when he did. It was awful, like she was stealing the pleasure she’d forced on him in the first place.
Sam started thrusting faster. He was giving Dean the full puppy dog eyes and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, but Dean could feel how much he’d wanted this, too.
Sammy, it’s okay, he thought, trying to will it so that only Sam could hear.
To their surprise, it seemed to work.
Dean. Sam’s mental voice was urgent. The witch still didn’t react, just watching them intently, breathing hard.
She’s gonna come when I do, Dean thought at Sam frantically. Maybe for just a second, she won’t be in control –
Got it, Sam said. Get ready.
He sped up again, jerking Dean in fast, rough strokes that left Dean gasping. It wasn’t long before he felt his second orgasm approaching.
Dean heard the witch cry out when he did. Now, Sam! he screamed silently, trying as best he could to shove her control away, grateful for once that women’s orgasms lasted longer than men’s. Sam dove for the guns – and then froze in the middle of the action, hand outstretched.
“Now, now,” the witch said playfully. She sounded amused and relaxed. Satisfied. Dean felt nauseous.
“That’s not very polite of you,” she continued.
“Lady, we are way past polite,” Dean spit. She laughed.
“No one ever appreciates my gifts,” she said, mock-mournfully. “And we were all having such a nice time.” She sat up. Sam moved mechanically until he was sitting back on his heels, fearful eyes on her face.
She tsked at him. “You’re going to have to be punished for that,” she said. Dean tensed, fear and anger rising fast. “You don’t get to finish.” She raised her chin and smirked at him. Sam blinked.
“That’s it?” he said.
She sighed and hopped off the bed. “I’m disappointed too,” she said. She grabbed hold of a suitcase by the door. “Well, I’m off. Never fear – I’ll go somewhere else for the remainder of your natural lifespans. You only cover the continental U.S., isn’t that right? Maybe I’ll try Hawaii. I hear great things, and do you know I’ve never been?”
Sam and Dean looked at each other, reading the confusion on each other’s faces.
“You’re…not going to kill us?” Dean said, feeling like he should probably not be pushing his luck but so thrown by this turn of events that he had to ask.
The witch looked shocked. “Gracious, no!” she said. “When we’ve had such fun together?” Sam and Dean gaped at her. “Anyway, I may have a sadistic side, but I’m not a murderer. What need have I to kill, anyway?”
Sam and Dean stared at her.
“Oh!” she said. “But of course I can’t have you following me, so you’ll have to go to sleep for awhile.” She smiled affectionately at them. “Good to meet you boys. Take care of each other.” She sighed. “I know you will. You have such a beautiful love.”
Blackness overtook them.
***
Dean woke up to Sam shaking him, staring down at him with fear in his eyes.
“I’m all right,” Dean said quickly, as soon as his thoughts were more or less together. “You?” Sam nodded and started to pull out of him, which set off a cascade of confusing, conflicting emotions in Dean. Horror at what had happened. Relief that this was over and the witch couldn’t force them to do anything else. A deeply disturbing shadow of arousal. A spike of fear at what this could mean for their future.
They pulled on their clothes as quickly as they could and hightailed it out of the hotel. As Dean started the car and sped off down the street, he reflected that it felt strange to be alone in his head again. It was way, way better not to have the witch in there, of course. And it wasn’t as though he’d want Sam in there all the time.
But it had really helped to know what Sam was thinking. Dean glanced at his brother. Sam was turned away from him, forehead leaning on the window. It looked like he was doing his best to curl his giant frame in on itself. He wasn’t particularly succeeding, but still, it worried Dean to see it.
“You okay?” Dean asked hoarsely.
“Dean, I’m so sorry,” Sam said dully.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Dean said immediately.
“Doesn’t really help,” Sam mumbled.
Dean glanced again at Sam’s still form. He realized with a sinking feeling that Sam seemed to be putting as much space between them as he possibly could. And fuck, who could blame him after what they’d been through? Another day, another trauma for the Winchesters. If they ever got therapy, they could probably keep a whole team of shrinks employed for life.
Dean sighed and kept driving through the night.
***
They moved around the bunker and around each other with strained carefulness for almost a week. Dean knew what he wanted now: Sam. He tried to shut it off, close that door, but his usual methods of repression weren’t working. The witch had opened his eyes, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t close them again. He wanted them to be together. Him and Sam, like it was supposed to be.
But he didn’t know what Sam wanted. Sam was barely talking, giving Dean forced smiles and only brief responses whenever Dean tried to start a conversation. Sam kept to his room most of the time. His door was shut. Dean had no idea what was going on in Sam’s head. He caught himself wishing he could read Sam’s thoughts and emotions like he had when the witch had linked them. He shuddered at the memory of her presence in their minds.
Finally, Dean decided that enough was enough. They couldn’t keep on like this. He went out and picked up some dinner for them. When he got back to the bunker, he hammered on Sam’s bedroom door.
“Come on out, Sammy, grub time,” he shouted.
“I’m not hungry,” Sam called back. “Maybe later.”
“Come on, I got you a salad from that place you like.”
“Just stick it in the fridge.”
“Sam, get out here or I’m kicking the door down,” Dean said, exasperated.
There was a brief silence and then the door opened. Sam looked out him warily.
“I really couldn’t eat right now,” he said quietly.
Dean swallowed. This was even harder in person than it had been when he was trying to plan it. “Well, then – just talk to me, man,” he burst out. “Come on. You’re wandering around this place like a ghost. I feel like I should be burning your corpse.”
Sam cracked a slight smile. “I’ll be okay, Dean,” he said. “I just need some time.” Pain flashed across his features. “I have to get my head on straight.”
“Talk to me about it,” Dean insisted. Sam hesitated. Dean spread his hands. “Come on, dude. I’m offering to have some chick flick-y conversation. Me! This is a golden opportunity you shouldn’t let go to waste. I thought you were gonna jump at the chance.”
Sam smiled a little bit more, dimples flashing for just a second. He nodded. “Okay. Let’s put the food away and I’ll try.”
“Screw the food,” Dean said, dropping the bag to the floor and crowding past Sam into the bedroom. He was afraid that Sam would find some way to wriggle out of it if they didn’t start talking right this second.
Sam hesitated a moment, then turned to Dean with a resigned look.
“I’m not really sure what to say,” he began.
“I do,” Dean interrupted. “Look, what happened to us was fucked up. Beyond fucked up. But it wasn’t your fault.” It looked like Sam was about to protest. “None of it was your fault, Sam! How can you even think that?”
“Besides the fact that she used my body to – to – do what she did to you?” Sam demanded.
“Yeah – she used you, Sammy. It wasn’t you.”
Sam bit his lip, shoulders slumping. “But, Dean…I wanted it. Not like that, of course, but I did want to.” He winced. “You don’t understand. A part of me enjoyed it. Just like she said.” His eyes were on the floor now, hair partially obscuring his face. “I always wanted to be with you, and I finally got to, because she made us.”
“I wanted it too,” Dean said. “I was a lot better than you were at repressing it, I guess, but she showed me. As for enjoying it – ” He snorted. “I came twice. You think I don’t feel fucked up about that?”
Sam shook his head. “She made me do it to you,” he said, so quietly Dean barely caught the words.
Dean took a deep breath, trying to work up the nerve for the part of this conversation he really didn’t know how to have. It’s for Sammy, he reminded himself. He feels like shit and maybe, just maybe, this’ll help. Dean was very much doing this for himself, too, but it was a lot easier to think about the part that was for Sam.
“The thing is,” he made himself say, “I still want to. Um. Again. Or – like, for real. Without some crazy witch in our heads making us into her own personal Pinocchios.”
Sam sucked in a breath and finally met Dean’s eyes again. He looked shocked, almost shaken. “You want that?” he gasped.
“No, it was a funny joke I was telling just now,” Dean said, trying to mask his discomfort. “Yeah, that’s what I said and I meant it.”
A light that had sparked in Sam’s eyes quickly dwindled. He looked downcast again. “I want to, too,” he said. He squeezed his hands into fists at his side. “So much, Dean. You don’t even know – ” He sighed. “But I don’t know if I can. How can I touch you, after what she made me do?”
“I don’t care about that,” Dean said staunchly, not entirely sure if he was telling the truth. Whatever – they could work out limits later. “I know it wasn’t you.”
Sam shook his head. “It was so awful, Dean. I’m not trying to say it was worse than what you went through, or anything – just…” He wiped his eyes. Dean’s chest ached like he was feeling Sam’s pain, like they were still linked.
“Just what?” Dean forced calm into his voice.
“I don’t know if I can do it again,” Sam whispered. Dean saw more tears drop from his eyes.
“But you want to?” Dean asked desperately. “You’d want to, if we could figure out a way?”
Sam stared at him for a long moment. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I really, really want to.”
Dean gave a short nod, mind racing. He considered just giving Sam his salad and leaving him alone for awhile. Maybe they’d gotten as far as they could today. It was better than nothing, for sure.
Suddenly a thought struck him.
“She didn’t make us kiss,” he said. Sam blinked at him.
“What?”
“The witch never made us kiss,” Dean said. “So she couldn’t have ruined that, right?”
Sam nodded slowly. “I guess…probably not.” Hope made his face a little brighter.
“Do – do you want to try it, then?” Dean asked. Sam stared at him. Dean held up his hands. “Uh, only if you want to, man. No worries if it’s too much right now.”
Sam took a step towards him, reaching out, then froze for a second. His hand dropped abruptly and he rocked back on his heels.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t just come at you like that.”
“It’s okay,” Dean said, although if he was being completely honest, Sam moving towards him unexpectedly that way had been kind of startling. He wondered if it had shown on his face.
Dean bridged the gap between them, standing close to Sam and reaching up slowly to touch Sam’s face. His thumb brushed Sam’s cheekbone.
Sam closed his eyes and gave a shuddery exhale, leaning into Dean’s palm.
“Okay, little brother?” Dean asked in a low, quiet voice.
“Yeah.” Sam’s voice was rough.
“You want to stop with this for now?”
Sam shook his head. “No,” he said. He opened his eyes. “Please don’t stop.”
Dean craned his neck upwards and exerted a little pressure on the back of Sam’s neck. The meeting of their lips was gentle, but Dean could still feel the enormity of it in his whole body. A weight of worry and wonder seemed to settle on his chest. Sam’s lips were warm. Dean could taste toothpaste with the shadow of coffee underneath. He fought the urge to press in harder. After a moment, he pulled back a little, not releasing Sam.
“Enough?” he said.
“No,” Sam whispered. “You?”
Dean shook his head, trying to slow his racing heart. “How about we sit down? I’m going to get a neck cramp from this, you gargantuan.”
Sam smiled as they sat down on the bed; there and gone, but it had been a real smile.
Sam waited for Dean to take the lead again. Dean didn’t hesitate, cupping Sam’s jaw and kissing him again. They kissed for a long time, gentle at first but slowly building until they were both breathing hard and Dean was trying not to squirm in a way that seemed like it would be really embarrassing.
Sam’s fingertips brushed Dean’s knee and Dean jumped, startled. Sam jerked back, staring into Dean’s face with wide, panicked eyes.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dean said. “You just surprised me.” He wasn’t certain that was all of it, though. He blew out a breath. “Maybe that’s enough for today.”
Sam nodded quickly, eyes downcast. Dean carded his fingers through Sam’s hair.
“It’s all right, Sammy,” he said quietly. “It’s gonna take a little time. At least we get to, right?”
Sam finally met his gaze again. “Yeah,” he said. The vulnerability on his face made Dean’s heart hurt. He leaned in and pressed a final, soft kiss to Sam’s lips. He felt Sam relax a little.
“Eat your rabbit food,” Dean added sternly as he rose and left the room. He totally forgot about his own lunch as he hurried down the hall to his own room and shut the door. He was so hard he could barely see straight. He flopped down on his back, shoved his pants down, and jerked himself off roughly, not bothering to take his time. It didn’t take long and he came with a stifled groan, wishing it was Sam’s hand on his cock.
It wasn’t until later that he realized that was the first time he’d felt like jerking off since the night with the witch.
***
Over the next couple weeks, Sam and Dean hooked up every day. They kissed again and again, for ages, and touched each other so gently that Dean started to think he was going to go out of his mind. They got as far as taking their shirts off. Dean thought he’d never felt anything so good as Sam’s chest pressed up against his, the skin-on-skin contact addictive in its perfection.
But every time they tried to go further, they hit a wall. Dean would flinch, unable to stifle the memories and the reaction that came with it. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want this, but he couldn’t help worrying that something would go wrong. If Sam accidentally went too far or too fast, it could set them back. And Sam was just as terrified. Half the time it was him flinching away. Dean wasn’t sure what would happen to Sam if he made a mistake and upset Dean. Sam already seemed to be drowning in guilt. Dean was starting to worry that they’d never get further than making out and grinding up against each other like a couple of teenagers.
Then, Sam and his nerdiness came through in a big way.
“Dean!” Sam burst into the kitchen brandishing a large book, his eyes wild with excitement. “Dean, I found something.” He shook the book at Dean.
Dean raised his eyebrows. “What the fuck could be in a book that has you this excited?” he asked.
“A telepathy spell,” Sam said triumphantly.
Dean blinked. “For who?”
Sam looked exasperated. “For us! We can use it the next time we want to be together. And then I’ll know if I’m going too fast and you’ll know if I’m getting anxious...faster than we could verbalize it. So we won’t have to be so scared to move to the next level.”
Dean nodded slowly, feeling trepidation but also a fierce longing. To know Sam that well… “I mean, it sounds good, but what if it’s too much?” he said.
“We can always end it if we don’t like it,” Sam said. “It’s easy. And there’s another one right next to it to help you shut out everything that you don’t want to share. So we’ll only know what we want each other to know.”
Dean felt relieved. “That’s good, yeah,” he said. “I mean, no offense, but there’s like, private stuff in there.”
Sam grinned. “For me too,” he said. “We both need our own mental space, but – ” He looked longingly at Dean. “It sounds good. I – ” He stopped suddenly, bit his lip. His gaze fell to the floor.
Dean took an automatic half-step towards him. “It’s okay, Sam,” he said. The words were like a mantra these days. “You can tell me. What were you going to say?”
Sam took a deep breath. “The…the sex wasn’t the only thing with the witch that I enjoyed more than I should have,” he said quietly. “I liked when our minds were connected, too. Being so close with you.”
Dean felt a thrill. “Yeah,” he said quickly, not wanting Sam to think he was alone in this. “Me too.”
Sam looked up and smiled again, brilliant and making Dean feel a rush of love so intense it almost hurt.
***
The spell was done. They were in Sam’s room. Dean felt the first tentative brush of his brother’s mind against his. The staggering intimacy of it made his breath catch. It felt so good to be linked to Sam like this. He could feel Sam’s amazed joy at his reaction.
Sam was staring at him, open-mouthed. With one long stride he closed the gap between them, cupped Dean’s face in his palm, and pressed their lips together. Dean damn near melted against him, reaching up to grasp Sam’s shirt. It was the first time Sam had taken the lead like that, without fear.
Because I knew what you wanted, Sam said in Dean’s mind. His tongue slipped into Dean’s mouth and Dean gave a low moan. He kissed Sam back desperately, half-hard already, hips rocking against Sam’s.
It was like everything had clicked into place. They were together, the way they always should have been. Dean felt a surge of regret that they hadn’t done this sooner. That the freaking Psycho Witch of the West had to be the one to show them what they needed.
Sam chuckled softly. But we have it now, he said. Dean could feel the relief and elation behind his words. Sam slid his hands under Dean’s T-shirt, going achingly slowly. Dean wanted him to go faster, but he knew this was exactly the pace he needed. Now Sam knew it, too.
Sam, fuck, was all Dean could think. It felt strange and a little uncomfortable to talk telepathically, but he was determined to get used to it fast. He reached out a hand to unbutton Sam’s shirt, hesitating for only a split second before he felt Sam’s assenting surge of desire.
They undressed each other carefully, pausing often to kiss each other’s lips and skin. Once they were naked and laying on the bed, they still didn’t touch each other below the belt for awhile, by silent mutual agreement. They kissed and ran their hands over each other, just like they’d been doing for days. Only now they could feel each other’s every spark of pleasure, too. Dean felt almost giddy with how good it all was.
He reached out first, running his fingers over Sam’s cock, listening to Sam’s breath and feeling Sam’s spike of lust when he finally wrapped his hand around it and gave it a few gentle tugs. Sam gasped and let his head fall on Dean’s shoulder for a moment while Dean worked him slowly.
Dean could feel in his head how much Sam wanted to touch him, too. Do it, he urged, need flooding him. Sam moved at a snail’s pace, checking in with him constantly. An instant before he made contact, Dean felt a little bit of panic, telegraphed it just a little too slowly, and jerked away when Sam’s fingers brushed his erection. Sam stopped the instant he realized what was wrong and they both froze, hearts pounding, minds crashing with worry and guilt. And then they reached out for each other with love and reassurance, drowning each other’s doubts and fears. It all happened at the speed of thought and only a couple seconds passed before they were both laughing with relief.
“Should we stop?” Sam asked aloud.
Dean shook his head. “You stop and I’ll friggin’ kill you,” he growled. He kissed Sam fiercely, let him see his need.
Sam went even slower. Now, he told Dean before he touched him, waiting to feel that Dean was ready. This time, when his long fingers wrapped around Dean’s shaft, it was pure pleasure.
Fuck, Dean gasped silently. Oh, fuck, Sammy…
They’d agreed to keep it to handjobs this first time. Although a part of Dean had wanted to protest – god, he wanted so much with Sam – he had to admit, this was fucking awesome. And it was probably as much as either of them could take right now. Even if it wasn’t for the witch messing them up, just the idea of being together like this was overwhelming.
Plus, there was something about the simplicity of this that Dean loved. Their foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air as the relentless build of pleasure went on and on. And fuck, getting to feel what Sam was feeling made it a million times better.
Even though time seemed lengthened, magnified somehow, Dean could tell it wasn’t actually that long before they were both getting close. No surprise, considering the weeks – years, really – of buildup. Dean kissed Sam desperately, because he wanted to and because he wanted to extend this another minute. He wanted to come, but he didn’t want this to end.
This isn’t going to be the last time, Sam assured him. Dean thought he might literally light up from the glow of anticipation and joy he felt from his brother. They were both panting now, jerking each other fast, knowing exactly the right angle and movement. Dean squeezed Sam’s shoulder with his free hand. He could feel Sam tipping over the edge.
Love you, Sam said as he came, and the feeling of it shocked Dean into coming right with him. He couldn’t say it back yet, not like that, but for just a second, he let Sam see the depths of his love, too.
Sam kissed him again, hard. They clung together, trying to get as close as they possibly could. Dean stroked Sam’s back and Sam ran his fingers through Dean’s hair as they came down.
Should we end the spell? Sam asked uncertainly. He didn’t want to, not yet. Neither did Dean.
In a minute, he said. He felt Sam give a quiet, internal sigh. Sam felt a little sad. Dean tried to fight back his knee-jerk worry.
What is it? he asked.
“I was just thinking that we shouldn’t – I mean, this spell is great,” Sam said aloud. “I think it’s really good for us right now. But I just don’t want to, you know, depend on it. We should be able to communicate normal ways, too. The book advises against long-term or too frequent use…” He fell silent. Dean could almost taste his disappointment.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” he said, pressing a kiss to Sam’s chest. “We’ll get better. We were getting better without it – it’s just a crutch, right? It’ll help us out for the time being, then eventually we won’t need it anymore.” He raised his head and kissed Sam fervently.
We’ll figure it out, he said. Because I’m not ever giving this up again. He made sure Sam saw his determination.
Sam smiled. Me, either, he said fiercely. Never.
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Date: 2019-10-31 12:52 am (UTC)