Fic: Terms of Venery (Sam/Dean, NC-17, Part 3 of 4)

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Back to Part 2

The door creaked open, was shut quickly and unfamiliar footsteps came through into his room. They made sense as he smelled who it was, full of the night and the forest and the scent of gunfire—Sam. “Sam, why are you here?”

“I came to tell you, that I’m going to win tomorrow, I’ll win you, I swear, Dean. If you want me to, I mean, you do, right?” Sam paused by the doorway as if he was unsure he was welcome.

Dean saw his uncertainty and rushed towards him, grabbing hold of his shoulders. “Of course, that’s all I can think about, what if you don’t though? I couldn’t bear it, Sam.”

“Me either, that’s why I’m here. See this eagle? I shot it tonight, in the dark. I brought it to prove to you, that I will win tomorrow. Your dad is right, I’m the best marksman around.” Sam raised the dressed eagle in one hand and moved away to set it on the table.

“You are, you will…I mean, I know you will. It can’t go any other way,” Dean said, stepping towards him, circling his arms around Sam’s slim waist.  “Look, there in the mirror. See us together in our reflection, can there be any doubt we belong together?”

Sam looked at Dean’s face in the reflection, a smile finally breaking through that Dean returned. “You’re so beautiful Dean, I don’t deserve someone like you.”

Dean spun him around and grabbed Sam around the neck, pulling him down for a rough kiss. “You doofus, don't you remember? The trees gave us their blessing tonight. I want no other but you, Sammy.”

The name, seemed to shimmer around the two of them entwined in each other’s arms, circling around the two of them. It felt like another pair of arms pulling them closer together. There was a noise of deep pleasure and Dean realized it was coming from him. Kissing Sam was the best thing he’d ever felt. Dean walked them backwards to his bed, removing as many of Sam’s clothes as he could get to. Sam finally got on board and interrupted their kiss long enough to take the rest off.  He stood before Dean, completely naked in the candlelight.

“You are the one who is beautiful, Sammy. I can’t wait to taste all of you,” Dean said, running his hands down Sam’s flanks, delighting in the shivers his touch produced. He gracefully sank down to his knees, holding tight to the globes of Sam’s ass. His day’s growth of stubble made a scratching sound as he rubbed his face along Sam’s upper thighs. Sam let out a deep groan above him, cutting himself off with a gasp when Dean’s lips closed over the tip of his cock.

Dean looked up at Sam, all the way above him, staring down in wonder as he took Sam all the way inside until his nose bumped against the planes of Sam’s belly. Sam began to whine as Dean slowly sucked up and down the length of him, pausing to tongue into the slit each time. Dean finally took pity on him and sped up his movements while increasing his suction.  Sam’s hands landed on the sides of Dean’s head holding him steady so he could fuck his hips in shallow thrusts. Dean swept a finger through the mess escaping his mouth and applied it to the rim of Sam’s opening, gently working his finger inside.

Sam’s thrusts sped up and went a little wild until he stiffened, lengthened even further and came hard, filling up Dean’s mouth all in a rush. Sam pushed Dean off from his continued suckling and held his head, tipping it up so Dean would look at him again. “You’re amazing, Dean.”

Dean didn’t say anything, just stood up, and pushed Sam to lay back on his bed. Sam flopped down, legs parting automatically, waiting to see what Dean would do next. He removed his layered clothing slowly, folding each piece carefully as Sam’s dark eyes followed his every movement. The candles flickered as he rummaged in a basket under the bed, coming up with a small jar. He unstoppered it and scooped out something that glistened, some kind of slippery unguent. Dean knee walked across the bed between Sam’s legs and reached behind Sam’s balls. “Gonna open you up, Sammy.”

Sam couldn’t answer, mesmerized by the aura of command that Dean was projecting, and opened his legs even wider. Dean grinned as he slowly pushed two fingers deep inside Sam. The noises Sam made were muffled as he bit into the pillow beside him. Dean ran his other hand down Sam’s belly as if to gentle him like a horse. “Ssh, Sammy, let me in,” he encouraged.

Hearing the words, Sam took a deep breath and concentrated on willing his muscles to open, wanting more than anything to feel Dean deep inside him. Slowly the key seemed to undo the lock and he soon found himself fucking himself down onto Dean’s fingers, even when he added another one. Dean smiled and kept making encouraging noises above him, alternating between looking down at where their bodies were joined and up at Sam’s face.

“You ready, Sammy?” Dean finally asked.

Words failed him, deserted him, fled before the power that was the feeling rising up through his whole body, he needed Dean, inside of him, now. They needed to become one. All he could do was nod and plead with his eyes. It seemed to work, because Dean removed his fingers from inside Sam, and used them to slick his own cock up, holding it steady at Sam’s entrance. He pushed in slowly and at a steady rate, not hurried, just unstoppable. And Sam opened and pulled him in, accepting the intrusion and marveling at how right it felt to be filled up by Dean. Only Dean, never another. Only Dean belonged inside him.

“Only me huh?” Dean asked with a brilliant grin.

Sam blushed that he had spoken those words aloud, but he nodded, because they were the truth. There was nothing else that mattered now, Dean inside him, filling the space he’d never known was empty, making himself at home because it was where he’d always belonged.

“You keep saying those things, this is all going to be over way too fast, Sammy,” Dean said with a laughing growl.

Sam relaxed then and finally was able to speak consciously, “I’m sorry, Dean. It’s just…this is something I’ve never done.”

“Me either, Sammy, me either,” Dean answered, one hand coming to rest over Sam’s heart. “But I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to work like this.”

“I never thought it could feel…uh, this good,” Sam said, sounding like an overwhelmed child to his own ears. Dean’s reaction though, told him otherwise.

“You’re amazing, Sammy. We are amazing, and it’s true. I’m yours, you are mine. This is how it’s supposed to be,” Dean said, hooking Sam’s legs up over his broad shoulders. There were no more words to be said, just the feeling of raw power and movement and friction sweeping them both away from this world into one of just two. The two of them possessed of each other, body, mind, heart, soul all entwined.

Sam came back to himself when he felt a cool wetness swiping over the tender skin between his legs. Dean had a cloth and was cleaning him up. He laid his hand on top of Dean’s.

“Oh, you’re back in the land of the living, good, thought I broke you,” Dean chortled softly.

“Is it always like that?” Sam asked.

“Dunno, guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Dean said, throwing the cloth onto the table and blanketing Sam with his body. They rearranged themselves until it was comfortable, Dean nosing his way up the side of Sam’s throat, kissing him softly.

Sam tightened his arms around Dean, holding him closer. “Thank you. For this…for tonight. If I don’t win tomorrow, at least we’ll have this.”

Dean put his fingers over Sam’s mouth, “Don’t…don’t you say that. I’m yours, and you are mine. What happens tomorrow doesn’t matter.”

“YesYes, it does! If I don’t win, I couldn’t bear to see you marry another.”

“You will win, Sam. I know you will. All will be well, you’ll see,” Dean said, hand resting over Sam’s heart again. “There isn’t another way for our story to go.”

“Our story?” Sam asked.

“The one that started this morning, when you handed me that cup of water. You felt it, right? When our fingers touched, the spark between us?” Dean asked.

“I did, yes, it was all I could think about,” Sam said. “I’m sorry I have to leave, there’s someone I need to meet with before the competition tomorrow.”

“At this late hour?” Dean questioned, trying to pull Sam back into bed with him. Sam resisted though and stood up from the bed to begin the search for his clothing.

Sam pulled his clothes back on as quickly as he could, but sat on the bed next to Dean with his cloak in his lap. He leaned down to kiss Dean one last time and Dean’s hands ended up getting tangled in the cloak.

They parted with a laugh as Dean struggled to unwrap himself. He’d gotten caught up in some embroidery that was on a piece of cloth sewn into the inside of the cloak. Dean held it up to the light to unhook his bracelet carefully.  “Who did this fine stitching?”

“I don’t know, this was the blanket I was wrapped in, when they found me. Why do you ask?”

“It looks just like the type of stitching my mother did, she was always embroidering baby blankets for everyone our family knew, just like this.”

Sam leaned down one for one last kiss that made Dean lose his trail of thought, nothing else was as important, as crucial as mapping out and memorizing carefully as Sam’s beautiful, agile mouth.

!~*@~*!

In the Wolf’s Glen as midnight approached, Brady cut himself, letting out a  small measure of his blood into the carved pewter bowl. He spoke some words in Latin, swirling its contents.

The wind roared through the tall trees, incredibly loud for a brief moment, all the birds shocked out of sleep and taking confused flight, then all went quiet and still. The sound of footsteps approaching from the deep dark forest sounding like the final doom of a slamming dungeon door.

“Good evening, Brady, I like to see a man come on time for once. It’s admirable really, not having to go grab you and bring you here kicking and screaming like a child.”

“Good evening, Samiel, I thank you for the compliment,” Brady said, bowing deeply before the Black Hunter.

“What did I tell you? Please, call me, Meg. We’re business partners after all,” the dark-haired woman smiled. To call it an evil grin would not do it justice, it held all the evil that existed in this world and the next, and then some more on top of that. It promised utter ruin, complete destruction and held untold glee at the prospect of dealing out both to as many humans as possible.

Brady shivered where he stood, and thought of his small family, safe and warm back in their hut, their bellies finally full. It was worth it, he told himself, it was all worth it.  “Tonight, I will bring before you an offering, of another to take my place.”

“Oh, you went for that plan after all. And here I thought you’d be all noble about it. Okay, so who’s the sap and when’s he getting here?”

“He’ll be here at midnight and I promised to make him some bullets. He needs them for the contest tomorrow.”

“Ohhh, a contest, I love those. Promise me there will be shooting of peasants?”

“No, of course not. Just targets. But he seems set on winning it, says it will be his whole future on a plate.”

“Let’s make it a game to make it more interesting then, whoever shoots the seventh bullet, that’s who I’ll take.”

“So, you’ll help me make more of the bullets then? Because I no longer have that many. Not for both of us to shoot in the contest,” Brady asked, picturing himself handing Sam a handful of newly cast bullets with a grin that wouldn’t give away his betrayal.

“Of course, of course,” Meg answered, waving her hand at the stone table before them, and all the implements that were required to cast bullets appeared. “You gotta bleed a little more though.”

Brady swallowed nervously and rubbed at the freshly bound cut on his arm. “I can’t just use the blood from calling you?”

“Nuh uh, no way,” Meg shook her head vigorously, long dark hair flying about her face. “It’s got to be fresh to work. You do want these bullets to work, right?”

Brady didn’t answer, just sliced another cut in the other arm and bled into the bowl that Meg held out. Her eyes sparkled with delight as the deep ruby liquid flowed and dripped. She reminded him of the chants to say over the bullets as they were cast, then left to stand guard over the entrance to the Glen. Soon there were footsteps approaching up the trail, it was undoubtedly Sam. His approach halted with a sharp suddenness that caught her attention. She heard him speaking to someone which didn’t seem possible as the forest was empty except for her two dupes.

“You say that you’re my mother? Is that really you? How can it be?” Sam’s voice came through the trees, sounding young and unsure.

“Oh, Sam look at you, you grew up so strong and tall,” a woman’s voice responded with a real warmth and sadness that made Meg’s skin crawl.

“And you are beautiful, mother, so very beautiful. I wish I had known you,” Sam replied, with a barely contained sob.

“Sam, you must not go to the Glen tonight. Please, son. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to raise you all these years. But the one you consider your friend means to trick you.”

Meg shook her head in anger, how dare this ghost appear to thwart her plans! Damn shades showing up wherever they weren’t wanted or needed. She quickly delved into Sam’s mind, pulling the threads of his recent obsession, the man, this one that was the prize tomorrow, the one he counted on for his life’s joy, Dean. Meg whispered a conjuring spell and an image of Dean appeared in front of the ghostly presence of Sam’s long-dead mother.

“Dean? How?” Sam could somehow see Dean standing on the wall of the Knights Bridge. But Dean did not respond or even acknowledge Sam’s cry, he looked out on the horizon with an insurmountable sadness and jumped into the swiftly flowing river, head disappearing under the dark water. A bridal wreath floated above the spot where his beloved had just been.

Sam screamed as loudly as he ever had, feeling ripped in two at what had to be a premonition, it had to be what would happen if he failed tomorrow. All he could think of was that winning was all that mattered now, he ignored his mother’s warnings and ran heedlessly forward right through her cold ghostly presence into the Wolf’s Glen.

The ghost stared after her son and then found Meg’s dark eyes. She shook her head sadly and disappeared back into nothingness. The demon wind whipped up the trees again, swirling through the Glen with great force and tremendous noise, the birds took flight once more into the night sky, flying into each other, dying as they hit the tree trunks. Meg stepped through the carnage with a dead smile on her lips to watch the bullets be cast by her star pupil and his new assistant.

!~*@~*!

Dean woke at dawn, troubled by terrible dreams of himself jumping off a bridge while Sam watched in horror; or of Sam walking towards him through drifts of dead birds in the forest. “What terrible things to dream on my wedding morning. All curses be upon my father who still has not shown his face to me,” Dean grumbled as he washed up and made himself presentable for the day. There soon came a lot of noise outside and a lively knock on his door.  He opened it to see Jo, Ash and Ellen waiting with trays of food and more flowers.

“We come bearing gifts! Good wedding morn, Dean!” Ash grinned at him, brandishing a plate of sliced meats and cheese and a long loaf of freshly baked bread.

Ellen came through with a soft kiss to his cheek and handed him a jug of wine. “For your breakfast sir, to start this day off in a good mood.”

“You knew I’d need it, thanks, Ellen,” Dean said, receiving all the attention with an embarrassed smile.

Jo was last in the door, wrapping a beautiful red silk scarf around Dean’s neck as she passed him. “It makes you more beautiful than ever, Dean. Whoever wins today, will be certainly be a happy man.”

“So it’s all men that have entered?” Dean asked, adjusting the scarf to avoid her eyes.

“No, but the only two that have a real shot, haha, are Sam and Brady,” Ash joked, cramming his mouth full of a slice of bread piled high with meat.

“I thought Brady was married already,” Dean said, reaching out to make himself a sandwich to settle his roiling stomach.

“He is, but he still has entered, said something about sorting it all out afterward,” Ellen said, rubbing Dean’s shoulder as she observed him.

Dean leaned into Ellen’s comforting touch a little. “Sam came to me last night. He promised me that he would win.”

“Oh honey, why did he promise such a thing?” Ellen asked, hugging Dean around the waist with one arm.

“He killed an eagle, last night, in the dark. He said that proved he could win. And I, well, I need to believe him, that’s all I can do,” Dean said, eyes fixed on the rumpled bed where they’d made their promises to each other with their words and their bodies.

“Cousin, I’m sure he will. Sam’s always been your father’s favorite shot. Brady could barely keep his own family fed,” Jo said firmly, hands on her hips.

“I don’t know, I just can’t picture anything other than being with Sam. It can’t go any other way…” Dean said, voice trailing off as his imagination failed him, he just couldn’t picture anything else for his future. It had to be Sam.

“Dean, let’s get you dressed and ready, okay? Where’s your wreath?”

“I don’t want to wear it,” Dean said, knowing that he was being grumpy for no real reason.

Jo shook her head in frustration and bumped their hips together. “We talked about this last night, and besides, didn’t Missouri tell you that you had to wear it to be safe?”

Dean sighed and crossed the room to take the wreath out of its basket.  Ash and Ellen gasped when he turned around to show it to them.

Ellen reached out a shaking hand to touch the wreath as if to make sure it was real. “Dean, that’s a funeral wreath.”

“I know. But that’s what they sent me. And I guess I’m wearing it, Ellen. The old lady out in the forest said I had to, and something just tells me she’s right,” Dean answered, feeling that ring of truth to the idea, no matter how strange it seemed to all of them to go against tradition.

“But, dude, it’s a bad omen to wear it on your wedding day, you know that,” Ash said.

“I don’t care, my stupid father’s forcing me to get married to someone I don’t even get to choose, then fine. I’ll wear the thing they sent me. Besides, it’s got all my favorite trees. See, here’s ash, just like you, dude, and here’s fir and some pine too, there’s even bay.”

“You and your trees,” Ellen said with a bemused smile, setting the wreath on his head. “You look very handsome, Dean.”

Dean couldn’t answer, too wrapped up in thoughts of the contest, and how his whole life was about to be decided. Samsamsam was the drumbeat pulsing through his mind.

!~*@~*!

Part 4