Bittersweet

Bittersweet

 

 

Sam doesn't think that Dean's ever looked so beautiful. He's sprawled face down on the bed, fucked out; too tired to move or speak. Covered in Sam's marks, his body a bleeding testament to Sam's passion.

 

 

He can't resist the urge to touch, to trace his fingers over darkening bruises, to pinch and prod, loving the way he can make Dean whimper and moan. He closes his hands around Dean's wrists, rubbing his thumbs across the marks left by the cuffs. Dean always fights at first, tries so hard to resist, to deny what they both know he needs, it just makes it all the sweeter when he gives in.

 

 

Sam presses Dean's hands down against the mattress, whispers, "Stay," not that Dean really needs the reminder; he's too far gone to argue back. He's been so good, has done everything Sam's asked of him, he's due a reward; and Sam knows just what to give him.

 

 

"Gonna taste you Dean, gonna lick you open, get you ready for my cock," he feels Dean shift a little under him, spreading his legs and raising his hips. Sam loves the way Dean submits for him, loves that he's the only one who ever gets to see Dean this way.

 

 

He licks his way down Dean's back, tracing the welts he left earlier. Reddened flesh, each bloody line an apology and a promise; he'd been hard on Dean tonight, had needed to make him see the truth.

 

 

Dean will bleed for Sam, will die for him, but he still doesn't take care of himself, and now that he's got Dean back from hell there's just no way Sam's going to risk losing him again. So he'll do whatever it takes, tie Dean up, blister his skin every night, hold him close and fuck him hard, until he finally gets it. Until he understands that he's the only thing keeping Sam sane, and starts to take care of himself.

 

 

He pulls Dean's cheeks apart, opening him up for Sam's tongue. His hole is glistening with lube and sweat; the little ring of muscle is stretched wide around a plug. "Hold yourself open for me," Dean groans at the order, but stretches back and takes hold without further complaint.

 

 

Sam pulls the plug free, leans forward and gets to work. Flavours mingle on his tongue, the blood and sweat from Dean's back mixing with the lube and come from where Sam fucked him earlier. Musk and salt and bitter liquid, and Sam loves it, loves the way it fills his senses. There's nothing in the world can make him feel as good as this, the taste of Dean's submission exploding across his tongue.

 

 

He curls his tongue, presses deeper; he wants to make Dean desperate, needs to feel him come apart from Sam's touch. He slides in a finger alongside his tongue, hears Dean moan when he finds his prostate. When he feels Dean start to push back against his mouth, he knows it's time. He takes one last taste, before pulling away and flipping Dean onto his back. He doesn't give Dean time to catch his breath, just pushes his cock inside and starts to move.

 

 

He takes Dean's mouth in a hungry kiss, licking and biting his swollen lips. He uses his body to say all the things he wants Dean to hear. Every kiss is an I love you, every bite I need you, every snap of his hips don't leave me again.

 

 

Dean wraps his arms around Sam's body, kisses back like he'll die without the taste of Sam's mouth. He feels Dean's hard cock trapped between their bodies; reaches down and wraps his hand around the aching flesh. His fingers trace the slick length feeling the way it pulses and twitches under his hand. He grips tighter, jacking Dean hard and fast. Dean arches up into his fist and moans into his mouth, every touch, every sound, turning Sam on even more.

 

 

Then Dean wrenches his mouth free, he's panting for breath, his voice a desperate whisper, "Please Sam, can't take any more…please."

 

 

Sam loves that he can do this to Dean, can make him beg for what he needs. Another time he might push Dean further, make him wait, but they're both too needy for that tonight. He rubs his thumb across the head of Dean's cock, digs his nail into the slit, whispers, "Come for me," and kisses him again, swallowing his cry of release.

 

 

Sam feel's Dean's ass flex and clench around his cock, the fluttering muscles holding him tight, and it's enough to send him over the edge, he thrusts once more, buries himself balls deep and finally lets go.

 

 

When Sam comes back to himself he pulls out gently, rolls to the side, and pulls Dean close. He raises his come-covered fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. He lowers his lips to Dean's and kisses him gently, "Mine," he says the single word so quietly he doesn't think Dean hears it.

 

 

"Yours," Dean takes Sam's hand, twines their fingers together, presses his lips to Sam's for one last kiss. "Always yours Sam, now rest. We can fight about this again tomorrow. It's enough for Sam; the promise eases the ache and fear in his heart. Holding on tight to each other they fall asleep, their demon's sated, at least for one night.