Author’s note: thank you, Tana, for the brilliant idea:)
For once there weren’t voices in his head; even his dad was shutting up. Usually foreplay was the boring part: get them to calm down, to relax, to be too intoxicated with arousal to notice stuff…like the fact that they were about to die.
Usually his head, by this point, was a mess of voices and images: his dad reminding him of what to do, reminding him of what a worthless piece of shit he was, good only to suck cock and cut people and see the filth in men, because he was akin to them.
Usually there would be preparations in his mind, plans: where to start, where to dispose the bodies, where to ditch ids. He would also trace his steps back, in the moments before he started, to make sure he hadn’t fucked up. None of that was happening, that night.
Silence in his mind, with the exception of the occasional hums of want, desire - real, actual, honest to God desire - that made the pace of his heart quicken.
Sam was kissing him - or maybe he was kissing him…who the fuck knew? - and Dean was almost scared…and he did not like that feeling, mostly because he didn’t know what the fuck was going on: yes, the guy was hot, he knew how to kiss, and the hard on pressing against him, as he closed the distance between them, to deepen the kiss, seemed massive…so fucking what?
He was just a man, one with fire and ice in his eyes and a cloud of darkness around him, different than ones he had seen before.
Sam broke the kiss, leaning against the Impala, looking for a moment like he belonged there, like it was his place…right there, next to his baby, his lips swollen with his kisses, his bangs covering his forehead, moonlight playing with the hazel of his eyes….and Dean knew, suddenly, what was scary about Sam.
He was taking away the voices.
Maybe it was a trick of his darkness, maybe he was a very good player…Dean didn’t have a clue, and he didn’t have time to even think about what to do, because Sam stretched an arm, pulling him closer at him, and a moment later his breath was hot against his jaw, and his words even hotter against his ear, “I wanna blow you, Dean. Right here…right now. Can I?”
Can I take the time to point out that Dean actually said this. And “what they have” is something that even Dean cannot explain, and that’s basically why he says: “Whatever it is”… and it hurts that I’m just realizing it, and breaking down this quote. But holy fuck, this has GOT to be my favorite…
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OH! And dude, I'm gonna go run in the threadmill so my reply might be about 45 minutes late. I love your Dean btw. He's amazing!! We should RP more often.
We totally should. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever written Dean…but I’ve wanted to write a dark!dean! for the longest time:)
“Mary has been dead for three years. She doesn’t know that Sammy has learned the alphabet, and likes catching bugs. She doesn’t know that Dean watches his little brother like a hawk every minute, with an expression on his face that says he’s willing to die to keep Sammy safe.”—John Winchester’s Journal (via crossroad-blues)