![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityHEY. So. Just watched Supernatural and instead of my usual response post, have a CODA!
LOL Idek. I just sat down to write my review and accidentally wrote this.
Sam/Dean
Untitled Drabble Coda for 5.20 The Devil You Know
592 words
Adult
Sometimes Sam wonders if he has a personality disorder. Its just, he's always been really easily addicted to things. When he was fifteen he was addicted to porn. When he was twenty he had a really bad problem with Red Bull; the detox from that was not fun. A year ago he was addicted to demon blood and before that it was finding the yellow eyed demon, and now. Well, now its something different.
He needs it. He knows, just like Ruby and Brady and Azazel and Lucifer have said to him all his life, he knows he's got something dark inside of him. He knows better than anyone the anger that boils beneath the surface, the rage he feels at the stupidest things, how uncontrollable everything feels all the time and how much that pisses him off.
This helps though, having an outlet, a place to direct all of that hate, that hunger. It helps having his brother helpless beneath his hands, begging with the little sounds that come out of his mouth, bubbling up from his throat as Sam marks his body with mouth-shaped bruises.
He's so lucky Dean let's him have this. He's so lucky to have Dean. After dealing with Brady, it just hadn't been enough. He was so sick of everyone telling him who he was, like they were some kind of expert. He was so sick of finding out his whole life had been one big lie in bits and pieces, scattered out across the years. First with Azazel, finding out he had demon blood, then with Lucifer, and now this. He was just so damn tired.
"Sammy," Dean groans, yanking Sam's hair between his fingers. "Come on, man. Calm down."
"I can't," Sam growls and jerks his hips, grinding down against Dean. "I just. I can't, Dean."
"Yeah," Dean says to him softly, fingers on the back of Sam's neck, rubbing circles over his pressure point. "Yeah, I know. It's okay." He lets Sam take his mouth, hungry, bruising kisses that taste like salt and copper. He lets him and he lets him until Sam's finally got that look back in his eyes, until he's finally Sammy again and he's kissing Dean slow, laving his tongue over each and every bruise he left, fingertips ghosting across Dean's ribs, making goosebumps appear up and down his arms.
On these night, he lets Dean fuck him. Its a sort of apology, Sam's way of making things better. Its a thank you too, letting Dean, the only one person on this earth that he trusts, that he's ever trusted, open him up and see him just the way he is, all vulnerable and scared. Dean lays him on his back and makes the most beautiful face when he's finally inside of him and it just makes Sam so damn happy.
Dean doesn't talk, so wrapped up in all of Sam, in this intense, fucked up bond between them, but he always kisses Sam when he comes, feeding Sam his whimpers and moans. Sam comes as soon as Dean does, every time, that blissful, peaceful look on his face too much, too perfect, and he clings on to Dean like he might slip away from him.
"You better?" Dean asks him after, all sweaty and tangled up together, the way they always have been, and Sam doesn't say anything, just nods, his hair tickling Dean's chin.
And when he closes his eyes, its not rage he feels anymore; its peace.
LOL Idek. I just sat down to write my review and accidentally wrote this.
Sam/Dean
Untitled Drabble Coda for 5.20 The Devil You Know
592 words
Adult
Sometimes Sam wonders if he has a personality disorder. Its just, he's always been really easily addicted to things. When he was fifteen he was addicted to porn. When he was twenty he had a really bad problem with Red Bull; the detox from that was not fun. A year ago he was addicted to demon blood and before that it was finding the yellow eyed demon, and now. Well, now its something different.
He needs it. He knows, just like Ruby and Brady and Azazel and Lucifer have said to him all his life, he knows he's got something dark inside of him. He knows better than anyone the anger that boils beneath the surface, the rage he feels at the stupidest things, how uncontrollable everything feels all the time and how much that pisses him off.
This helps though, having an outlet, a place to direct all of that hate, that hunger. It helps having his brother helpless beneath his hands, begging with the little sounds that come out of his mouth, bubbling up from his throat as Sam marks his body with mouth-shaped bruises.
He's so lucky Dean let's him have this. He's so lucky to have Dean. After dealing with Brady, it just hadn't been enough. He was so sick of everyone telling him who he was, like they were some kind of expert. He was so sick of finding out his whole life had been one big lie in bits and pieces, scattered out across the years. First with Azazel, finding out he had demon blood, then with Lucifer, and now this. He was just so damn tired.
"Sammy," Dean groans, yanking Sam's hair between his fingers. "Come on, man. Calm down."
"I can't," Sam growls and jerks his hips, grinding down against Dean. "I just. I can't, Dean."
"Yeah," Dean says to him softly, fingers on the back of Sam's neck, rubbing circles over his pressure point. "Yeah, I know. It's okay." He lets Sam take his mouth, hungry, bruising kisses that taste like salt and copper. He lets him and he lets him until Sam's finally got that look back in his eyes, until he's finally Sammy again and he's kissing Dean slow, laving his tongue over each and every bruise he left, fingertips ghosting across Dean's ribs, making goosebumps appear up and down his arms.
On these night, he lets Dean fuck him. Its a sort of apology, Sam's way of making things better. Its a thank you too, letting Dean, the only one person on this earth that he trusts, that he's ever trusted, open him up and see him just the way he is, all vulnerable and scared. Dean lays him on his back and makes the most beautiful face when he's finally inside of him and it just makes Sam so damn happy.
Dean doesn't talk, so wrapped up in all of Sam, in this intense, fucked up bond between them, but he always kisses Sam when he comes, feeding Sam his whimpers and moans. Sam comes as soon as Dean does, every time, that blissful, peaceful look on his face too much, too perfect, and he clings on to Dean like he might slip away from him.
"You better?" Dean asks him after, all sweaty and tangled up together, the way they always have been, and Sam doesn't say anything, just nods, his hair tickling Dean's chin.
And when he closes his eyes, its not rage he feels anymore; its peace.