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29 December 2012 @ 11:59 pm
Supernatural Fic: Bond and Free (The Earthly Room Remix)  
Written for Remix Redux 2012 Ficathon - Remix of Bond and Free by ephemerall
Crossposted to supernaturalfic


Title: Bond and Free (The Earthly Room Remix)
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Seasons 1 and 2
Summary: Sam isn’t at Stanford more than a month before Dean appears at the door to his dorm room
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

Other comments are housed at Remix Redux 10.


Sam hasn't even had his first exam at Stanford when Dean fills his dorm doorway, all leather jacket and harsh breathing that reverberates waves of anticipation and impatience. One step inside and Dean's already crushing their mouths together with a visceral hunger that flares deep in Sam's belly even as his brain's still in stunned mode.

Sam doesn't even realize his hands are fisting in that soft road-worn leather, but some part of his mind sends up red flags and flares enough to get him to pull back for a second. Flashes of 'roommate' and 'brother' and 'public' slow him enough for words.

"Not here, not here," he murmurs against Dean's heat-seeking mouth, almost as if he can't draw away any further.

There are keys so fast it feels like Sam locks his door and Dean unlocks the Impala right after. Time zooms forward until the familiarity of another anonymous motel room meets Sam's gaze, all of it rushing back so easily.

Then his back's up against the door and Dean's pressing his whole body against him, like he needs to keep Sam from leaving again. Only Sam won't leave this; he needs this as much as Dean does - this connection to life, family, home, the bond of love that the fucked up Winchester men never speak of aloud and never will.

Grease-stained nails dig deliciously into his hips, lining them up - the scritch of denim on denim foreplay for their nascent erections. Stealthy hands burrow up beneath Sam's t-shirt. The merest suggestion that Dean wants his shirt off is enough to make it happen, the garment hitting the floor after Sam's already forgotten about it. Dean's hand insinuates itself between them, the heel of his palm moving against Sam's lengthening shaft with just the right amount of pressure before nimble fingers start flipping his button fly open.

Dean could turn him around and fuck him right here if he wanted, right up against the door, but Sam doesn't trust his legs already. He's been taller than Dean for a while, but Dean still seems surprised when Sam uses his strength to push them both off the wall and lever them to fall on the closest bed. Then the clothes start flying - Dean's lethally talented hands put temporarily to better use, or at least more pleasurable use.

When they're both down to just boxers, Dean pauses, slows down the frantic energy a bit. Sam chuckles at Dean's wry expression; Sam's wearing a pair of boxers he stole from his brother back when he was packing to go away to college. A smirk of recognition later, Dean proceeds to drag his open mouth down Sam's seemingly endless torso to where Sam's hardness is straining against the fabric. Dean traces the head of Sam's cock with his tongue, dampening the thin flannel as Sam draws in a breath and tenses at this long denied pleasure. When Dean mouths the head Sam can't help but arch up in response, impatient for all barriers between them to be lost. His long fingers reach out and find the waistband of Dean's boxers and tug - their message enough for Dean to halt and finish disrobing them both.

When he returns Dean covers Sam's body with his own and Sam can't help but let out a groan - it's too good. It doesn't last though. Dean's a man on a mission and Sam's damn glad to be first on his agenda. Sam's not sure what he wants more though: for Dean to suck him off or fuck him. His body's already shaking, craving the pleasure of Dean's expert attention like a junkie aching for a hit.

And then wet heat envelops him and Sam's eyes almost roll back into his head. To say Dean's an expert cocksucker would be like saying he's a good hunter. There's a special stage beyond perfection when talent meets lifetime knowledge and if Dean knows anything by heart it's Sam.

A wordless whine of warning gets Dean to pull back just as Sam's teetering on the brink, but a second later Sam realizes it's only because Dean's attention is now on the lube. Dean seems to have a special talent in this department - making lube appear out of seemingly nowhere on demand, a sort of prestidigitation of porn. A gasp escapes Sam as slicked fingers slip inside, getting him ready when he'd swear he's been ready since he left for California.

A quick pause for Dean to slick his own cock and then it all falls into line: Sam's long legs, Dean's strong arms, his cock positioned just right... Sam bites his lower lip as he feels the head of Dean's cock press against him then breach all at once, thick shaft filling him with the welcoming slow burn of relief after so long bereft.

It's only when he's completely inside that Dean finally makes a sound, a moan of such satisfaction Sam's sure he's been jacking off for weeks waiting for this very moment. Patience isn't one of Dean's virtues though, so a second later he's doing what he does best: fucking Sam into the mattress, hard. Sam loves it when he's rough like this; feeling Dean's power over him is intoxicating. He's the only person in the world Sam will let go for, can let go for. Nothing feels better than to surrender himself body and mind to Dean: protector, hunter, brother, lover, saint, sinner... The other half of himself.

It becomes almost a brawl, this fight for completion - Dean brusquely thrusting so that every jolt could be the last before Sam loses it and Sam meeting every ounce of force with his own, slamming back so hard that if he falls in the abyss he's dragging Dean down with him.

Sensation makes the world spin out of control. There is no room, no bed, no outside world, just the life-sustaining air they suck into their lungs as fuel and two bodies generating enough friction and heat to ignite.

And ignite they do, in incendiary fashion just as Dean grabs Sam's straining cock and Sam bites down on Dean's arm. The explosion consumes them both, twin voices erupting in unison, united in ephemeral bliss.

After panting their way back, they unfold, allowing Sam to stretch out his legs. They lay side by side on their backs on the bed, touching just at the edges of their arms, eyes open, but not really seeing the ceiling.

Sam's got studying to do, an essay to write and plans to go grab a pizza with his roommate later, but even as those thoughts skitter across his consciousness he easily dismisses them. This is Dean's time; nothing will take him away, at least for now.

Dean pulls the sheet up partway over both of them, the unspoken message being: 'stay.'

His brother's even breathing, as common to Sam's ear as his own breath, is already lulling him towards sleep. Sam feels the comfort that comes with the memory of all the nights they slept like this out on the road. Even with a roommate in his dorm it's not the same. He misses having Dean there as he sleeps, knowing he's there when he wakes in the middle of the night, assured of him being there when the sun rises.

Sam pulls the sheets up the rest of the way. He's not going anywhere.

Stanford was the right choice, but that doesn't mean this isn't right as well.

~
 
 
 
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on January 1st, 2013 09:07 am (UTC)
Confession
This fic is a Remix Redux Pinch Hit remix of the original fic by ephemerall for the Remix Redux 2012 Ficathon.

This is another ficathon fic that I submitted to AO3 on time, but forgot completely to post on my LJ. /headdesk/

Thanks,

Emma DeMarais
bury me in memoryephemerall on January 3rd, 2013 10:30 pm (UTC)
This is fucking fantastic!
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on January 3rd, 2013 10:38 pm (UTC)
Thanks again for the great original to remix! I really enjoyed this one!

Sorry I forgot to post it on LJ sooner!