The Safe Bet, Dean/Sam, NC-17, 1/1

[ht_murray]

Title: The Safe Bet
Author: tru_faith_lost
Rating: NC-17 for language, m/m sex, incest
Pairings: Dean/Sam, mentions of Sam/Jess
Words:~2800
Summary: He asks, surprised how much he wants to see, not prepared for the depth, for how far down he needs....Who knew together would be the thing that broke him?
Beta: Thanks to feather_touch for beta and to rejeneration for doing "nothing really"...Her smishably humble words, not mine. *smishes her so hard*
Disclaimer: Yeah, I'm not getting paid, and someone else paired them up long before I did. And the title is from the song "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot," by Brand New. If it's the s3 theme song, I dunno what is.
A/N: Started in response to a prompt I read in wendy's journal that was something on the order of, "Dean wants to teach Sam everything in the next year, including how to top in bed." I know, who could resist. However, 3rd_leg said to me, "Why would Sam want to learn that? Won't he just go back to girls?" To which I said, "Bitch!" K, so this ain't really that story anymore. You can blame it on her. *glares*

Haha! rejeneration is awesomesauce! (Behind z-cut, there B no humble. Sometimes there's just not enough pie)

The Safe Bet

Call me a safe bet. I'm betting I'm not. I'm glad that you can forgive. I'm only hoping as time goes, you can forget. --The Boy who Blocked His Own Shot, by BrandNew

The first time, it's a week before Sam leaves for Stanford, and it's supposed to be his birthday present.

He's ready for the sex, been ready since the first time Dean finished a line of stitches in his hide and kissed away the burn. He's been practicing in the shower, doesn't want their first time together to be about the first time. He just wants together.

"No, not like that," he pants, head and shoulders thrown back. His thumbs press into the grooves of Dean's hip bones, trembling in conflict between moreJ and wait.

Dean kisses along the tendon in his throat, scrapes his stubble against the side of Sam's jaw, coaxing his head to turn so they can touch lips as he says, "It'll hurt less this way."

Sam tightens his hold on Dean's hips and arches back farther so he can huff into Dean's ear. "Wanna see you."

He knows it's cheesy and cliché. For all he knows, it's the trademark slogan of bad porn, but he's got nothing to compare it to, can only afford free and bad, and he wanted to be ready, so he read whatever he could get.

He asks, surprised how much he wants to see, not prepared for the depth, for how far down he needs.

By the time Dean lets him have exactly what he's been prepping for-- slow, deep burn, split down the middle and vulnerable like he's never been--Sam's ready for it, safe, like he's always been with Dean.

He's not prepared to look in Dean's eyes when want, need, and safe reflect back at him, magnified in mirrors of fear, and know he put the shimmer there.

"Only yours, Dean," he says, some kind of conciliation, before he even knows he's thinking it. He's surprised it's not a lie, knowing the envelope's in the drawer, his ticket out folded inside.

He's surprised it's the truth, but knows it is by how it's told--told in the way his legs lock around Dean's hips and won't let go; the way his arms wrap around, palms flat on Dean's back as Dean pants into his shoulder; the way his throat clenches around the goodbye he has yet to speak.

Who knew together would be the thing that broke him?

XOXOXOXO

The first time after Jess is about not seeing-- not seeing blood, not seeing fire, not seeing twisted and broken. It's about not saying goodbye ever again, not forgetting, not letting go. Sam's not ready to let go.

Neither is Dean.

This time, Sam doesn't say what he wants. Dean just knows, spoons up behind Sam and wraps his arms into the places Jess's legs used to fit--tight against ribs and ticklish obliques--knows the fist he wraps around Sam's cock is all Jess.

Dean must know Sam needs him to be her, just for tonight. Dean always does, somehow.

Sam doesn't ask to see as he breaks apart, split from behind. With his eyes shut tight, he shudders in his grief and doesn't ask to see how glad Dean is to hold him.

Together's broken them both before.

But Sam knows it's Dean behind him when he's warm and safe like he hasn't been since that first time. Sam knows Dean will still be there in the morning and Sam will still be safe, until the next time destiny comes calling.

"Only yours, Dean." He says it with sleep in his eyes and sex on his skin, hopes that makes it okay if, someday, he can't keep the promise.

XOXOXOXO

A year and four days before Dean's deal comes due, it's as good as it will ever be. They're in the backseat of the Impala, drying off after spending half the night chasing a werewolf through the brush in a rain storm.

There are plenty of cuts--slashes from leaves, branches, goddamned werewolf's claws -- for kissing clean. And there's cold deep in his bones for melting, all the excuse they need for long, slow kisses, friction drawn out too long because the rain's glued their jeans to their skin.

Desperate melts away after several minutes of fruitless groping, and fingers burned raw from clawing resign themselves to pet and stroke, Dean's hands in Sam's hair, Sam's hands on the sides of Dean's face.

It's not so bad, the slow rhythm of breath, long drinks of beaded water on rain-chilled skin. They're thirstier than they should be, and it goes on long past the point of snark and curses, long after the windows have collected all the moisture from their clothes, ages after it would have been possible to tear away the jeans and rut into each other, like animals.

It's never been about that.

Still, when it's over, Sam locks his legs over Dean's and holds him until it's obvious they're not going to be able to sleep crammed into the backseat. Even the gaps in Dean's bowed legs aren't accommodating enough for all of Sam in the cramped and claustrophobic space.

Sam's filled up on sex and Dean, not much else he still wants except to be rid of his destiny, and there's no cure for that, he knows, except safe. So yeah, Sam's filled up on sex and Dean.

Dean likes sleep or food with his sex, and since they can't sleep, Dean wants pie.

Sometimes, Sam really wishes he was smaller.

XOXOXOXO

Five days and one dead demon later, Sam's pretty sure he's free of his destiny, the one thing he never thought he'd be out from under.

Dean takes extra care to make sure he has Sam's nod before he pushes in, slow, like Sam will crumble, too fragile for this, and then doesn't look away, takes silent permission for every press and grind that follows.

There's no surfacing for another day after that, no shutting of eyes as they come, gazes locked, again and again. When they're finally forced to sleep off their four day separation, they don't care that they don't fit right in the backseat or either of the twin beds Bobby gives them in his back room.

Sam falls asleep with his eyes open, locked on Dean's, each reflection cloudy and fixed on the jump of pulse in his brother's throat.

Sam's never felt more vulnerable.

XOXOXOXO

It's not like Sam thought it would be. Killing the demon hasn't saved them. Instead, the demon's gone, and they've awakened from a dream into a nightmare. What they've painstakingly built over the years of one dream and one goal, the steady thrum of give and take, push and pull, is gone. Now, it's just push, push, push, all the time against and away, never together, and there's no climax after.

No sleep or pie either. There's just not enough pie.

Sam gets it. He does. About the fourth time Dean cavalierly mentions the trail of sand he leaves in his wake, Sam gets the hint. But Sam's not a rusting car in Bobby's lot, and Dean's not the rust. Sam can't just be sandblasted shiny and new, and what's more, he doesn't want to be.

He'll never be ready for that.

That red shit in Sam's cracks? The crimson around his eyes when he finally shuts the useless books on another fruitless day of trying to save Dean's ass? That's blood, Winchester blood, not Dean's to give away, not even for Sam.

Sam calls him out. He calls him on it when it's talk, and Dean's tossing it in his face with a smirk, a shrug, and not a damned apology anywhere in his expression. He calls him on it when it's not talk, just the sudden need for a nap and a toss of car keys or a wrench, the subtle bequeathing of assets Dean considers meager. Sam's good at calling Dean's bluff.

But no one's more surprised than Sam when Dean turns away from him in bed, presses back against Sam's growing erection, and hands him the lube. It's not that he didn't think Dean would ever bottom. He's never asked, but if he knows his brother at all, Sam figures it's a safe bet Dean bottomed at least a few times before Sam's eighteenth birthday. He's too damned anal (no pun intended) about protecting Sam to risk hurting him. No, Sam's surprised to be finally going forward again after months of Dean professing his resignation to stop looking toward the future.

Sam's also just a little surprised how much he wants it, wants to be the one driving when it's hard, fast, clawing, and desperate, then god so fucking hot. He's not a fucking girl, not the baby brother anymore, and he proves it with teeth and bruised trails under his fingers in slick flesh.

"That's it, Sammy, nice and slow, just to the first knuckle. Yeah, like that," Dean drawls into his pillow, long eyelashes nestled over his pinking cheek.

Sam pauses, nose pressed behind Dean's ear, his tongue laving at the lobe and his thumb hooked around Dean's balls, one finger crooked at his entrance. The rasp in Dean's voice elicits an involuntary thrust, and God, Sam could come just like that, his dick nestled atop Dean's ass cheeks, heart pounding against Dean's back.

"Yeah, Sammy, yeah. Just like that, baby."

Sam follows Dean's lead right up to the point of pulling out his fingers and lubing himself up. He nips along the edge of Dean's jawbone, back to his ear lobe as one hand coaxes Dean's knee up to his chest and teases down over perineum, back up, thumb massaging over scrotum until his fingers wrap around Dean's cock.

Dean whimpers as Sam slides down, tracing the lay of his arm over Dean's most sensitive parts, slick with sweat and then spit massaged in with Sam's tongue like exotic oil over the head of the cherished. Sam rolls his hips, small gasps and squints of his eyes with each brush of his fingers against skin that's his for the taking.

Sam's lost in worship as he shifts far enough down to line up his shoulder with the knee against Dean's chest. It's late, he notices absently, can tell by the scratch of his jaw against the skin of Dean's thigh as he coaxes the leg over with gentle pressure.

Dean tenses and refuses to turn over.

Sam pauses, eyes still closed, lashes brushing the ridges of Dean's ribcage. His lips won't be still and keep a gentle rhythm of nip, suck, kiss as he waits for Dean to tell him what to do next, what Dean wants.

"Like this. It'll hurt less this way," Dean insists.

Eyelashes flutter as nip, suck, kiss becomes what, why, fuck, and Sam slides back up with a jerk that bangs the headboard. His head ends up on Dean's shoulder, still spooned up behind him, his forehead sunken. What the fuck? "Hurts less?"

Frustrated and panting with urgency, Dean reaches behind himself to seat Sam's cock at his hole and wriggles back. "Like this."

Sam's not sure if the gasp he makes is holyfucksogoodyes or a sob, but he's back to only half-hard without coming, and his jaw tingles from snapping his teeth together.

"Less than what..?" Dean would cut out his liver for Sam without flinching. He's done it with his heart more than once. Dean doesn't care about pain, not physical pain.

"Less. Than. What?" Sam insists, punctuating each word with a roll of muscled hips. He won't even kid himself and say it's not a growl, or a question he already knows the answer to. "Fuck!"

Rolling away fast enough to land himself in a heap on the floor, he pretends the scream that rips from his throat is from hitting the hardwood. He slams his fist into the wall instead of Dean, but only because he's saving that rain check for the day he knows is coming when Dean will try to walk away and make good on his contract alone. Not gonna happen. Sam's already decided.

"Fuck you!" He hisses as Dean rolls over and offers him a hand up.

"That's kinda the idea," Dean smirks, but there's no glint in his eyes to indicate he means it.

Gritting his teeth together, he takes the hand Dean offers him and jerks. Hard. There's a tinge of grim satisfaction in the sound Dean's back makes when he hits the wall and slides down. Dean's arching up off the floor and huffing, that permanent bruise between his shoulder blades most likely a fresh shade of red, when Sam crawls between his knees and hooks a thumb under Dean's jaw, twists his head around to lock eyes.

"Answer me," he hisses. "Hurts less than what, Dean? Less than this..." He rolls his hips, half a thrust forward so the head of his cock butts up between Dean's ass cheeks. He's not hard enough anymore to do any real damage, but he makes his point as Dean squirms, tries to lift his head out of Sam's grasp. "Or less than this?"

His fingers tighten on Dean's jaw and secure it in place, knuckles white as Dean tries to look away, forces Dean to look.

Sam refuses to let go, stares down at him, chests heaving together. Dean swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing slowly down and up, but the rest of Dean is still, leaving only the thud-thud against Sam's chest and hot breath in his bangs to ruffle all the raw edges just sprung up between them.

Dean's trembling all over. Could be adrenaline or cold. Sam thinks it's neither of those, because he's trembling, too, and they're too close to be cold, too spent to be rushing. By force or by choice, neither one can look away.

A million scenarios pelt against some membrane of possibility in Sam's head, all the ways this can go now that he's in control. He can tell Dean knows them all, hazel eyes blown wide open and waiting, and Sam's cock likes just about all of them. He's achingly hard again, too aware he can take whatever he wants, drive home the point that he's not going to be played down to, won't be taught to forget what they have when it's gone. But all he can do is slide his second hand up under Dean's chin, this one slower, reverent in its gentle trace, follow it with soft huffing breaths between soft lips barely close enough to touch. What he wants isn't angry sex, a show of brute force, or Dean's submission.

What he wants is for this to never be gone. What he wants is to never forget.

He doesn't know how to take that.

But Dean knows how to give it, does so with a blink of eyelashes that are darker than they should be over eyes brighter than they should be. He wouldn't do it for anyone but Sam.

"Only yours," Dean gasps, eyes searching Sam's.

It happens too fast for Sam to react, lost in the face of a future full of alone. He's already perched on the threshold. All it takes is a curl of Dean's legs and a thrust of hips so subtle they don't break eye contact, and they're joined, face-to-face, both breathing with a noticeable hitch. Each fraction of an inch further in is electrified, tiny pangs of clarity behind their eyes when Sam's finally seated balls-deep.

The best learning is mutual, goes both ways like lips parted on the same breath, cheeks salty with the same emotion, and hard, blinding release that leaves them both trembling on a whole other plane of together.

Dean doesn't ask for what he needs, doesn't say he's afraid, but Sam knows. He knows what it means when Dean doesn't let go, hooks his heels around Sam's, and flattens his palms against the heartbeat in Sam's back. Sam knows how to keep Dean safe, if only for another minute, another hour, even if their bed is gritty with leaking sand. He had a good teacher, has one he's not going to let go.

Sam's sure there's some poetic dialogue he's supposed to insert here. Instead, he just holds Dean a little tighter as they both drift into sleep, lets the night make of things what it will. They're kinda busy being together.

Here ends the lesson.

And the Story

Comments

[aislinn-tredor.livejournal.com]

That was achingly beautiful.

Especially the last time they're together.

"It'll hurt less..."

So many different meanings in those three words.

[jeyhawk.livejournal.com]

Awesome. :0)

Beautiful, poetic language and some hot, hot sex to boot. ;0)

lovely

[catdancerz.livejournal.com]

and painful, and full of way too much that words barely cover...but you brought it out, touched them...

[luvsabitch.livejournal.com]

I think I'm broken! *Smishes bos together*

And of course Sam would only sleep with girls afer...or become a monk maybe, take a vow of celibacy

[thehighwaywoman.livejournal.com]

Ohhh, really liked this. Deliciously dark & hurty, with that refrain of "it'll hurt less" working on several different levels. Huzzah!

[crowleyangel.livejournal.com]

So emotional and sad but written so well. Good job.

[nerthus.livejournal.com]

Such beautiful, evocative writing; I want to read this over and over again just to savor your gorgeous prose and all the emotion and love it brings to life between the boys.

[tigerpinky.livejournal.com]

wow... :)

[tabaqui]

Ah, i like that. I just...like it. A lot.
Who knew together would be the thing that broke him?

Oh, boys.
*pets them*

[goldenseal.livejournal.com]

This was really lovely:)

[feather-touch.livejournal.com]

This is just soooo wonderful!

[leighm.livejournal.com]

This was amazing.

I can never get enough of the angst between them. Never.

It's simply a matter of them loving each other more than anything in the world that causes them so much heartache. I want to fix all their broken pieces but then again, I like them broken.

Just wonderful:)

[sexytexanjra.livejournal.com]

You broke the boys beautifully.

Trust Dean to be self sacrificing to make the transistion easier for Sam, it's just what he's hard wired to do.

Beautiful to read. :)

[aynslee.livejournal.com]

This is amazing--painful and raw, and so full of emotion. I loved that Sam wouldn't accept Dean's quick and easy answer of why he wanted that position. Perfectly done! :D

[whitedestiny1x2.livejournal.com]

Wow.

[snarkyrainbow.livejournal.com]

Oh this hurts.
It's lovely.

[tabularassa.livejournal.com]

Incredibly beautiful and real. <333

My heart aches for those boys.

[trueshellz.livejournal.com]

"It'll hurt less."
omg!
thats such big word!
loved it
always

[glorified-moron.livejournal.com]

From what you had said that wasn't what I was expecting. It was so much more. Absolutely lovely. The wording and the visuals. The further along the story progress the more it pulled you in. I felt like I had read chapters by the end with the amount of emotion you got across.

Thank you for sharing!

[joyofreading.livejournal.com]

I liked this, and I have to agree, I'm thinking Sam would go back to girls too.

Anyhoo.. Enjoyed this tons.

[paleogymnast.livejournal.com]

Wow, that was just wow... You turned a two word phrase, "only yours" and made it not just meaningful, but all-encompasing of everything Sam and Dean are to each other, everything they're afraid to lose, everything they want. Beautiful. You had me in tears at the end. :)

[deanshot1]

That was beautiful and sad all at the same time.
They keep each other safe when they're in each other's arms.
Thank you for sharing.

[caz76.livejournal.com]

My god, this was amazing. So beautiful. But so painful. Poor boys *hugs them* and *hugs you* thank you for sharing.

[donchuwanna.livejournal.com]

ouchy. Dean hun do you really believe it would hurt less if it seems like its not you? babe pushing for impersonal doesnt mean anything. in the long run itll only contribute to resentment. trust me. *sighs* yeah. wonderfully painful. keep em comin yo.

[supernation.livejournal.com]

Oh, that was amazing. Why, tell me WHY should I even TRY and write fanfic ever again? When you, my friend, have mastered the art of it in one fell swoop. One. Beautiful. Hot. Sexy. Poetic, Angst-filled and wistful story!

[laceandgrace.livejournal.com]

Oh, HONEY. That was amazing. It captures completely the tone of the piece that I thought of when wendy mentioned the idea in her entry.

Just...gosh. Amazing, you hear me? Amazing!

[gottalovev.livejournal.com]

good lord, that was so beautiful, and achy and.... wow. it took my breath away. ♥

[apieceofcake.livejournal.com]

Beautifully painful, thank you :-)

[3rd-leg.livejournal.com]

oh you know I love it doll! so angsty good, and depressingly wonderful. Great job!

[bonbonschnecke.livejournal.com]

This was so wonderful written.

[deadbeat-nymph.livejournal.com]

I came by on rejeneration's recommendation, and I'm so glad I did. This was sexy and heartbreaking all at once.