Fic: Kale or Nada (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 2 of 5

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There wasn’t much talking after that, their bodies seemed to be up to the task of doing all the reminiscing for them. Sam was surprised at himself that he remembered all of the places that made Dean moan and whimper the loudest. He had Dean flat on his back in the middle of his enormous bed, his hands above his head where Sam had pressed them into the luxurious, high thread-count, organic, cotton sheets.

Dean’s legs were spread wide and Sam knelt between them. He was taking his own sweet time re-learning the taste of his brother’s skin. He licked and sucked and bit his way down Dean’s neck to his chest, lingering on his nipples, delighted with how responsive Dean still was. He kept his hands in motion the whole time, his manicured nails scraping gently up and down Dean’s thighs.

Finally he couldn’t hold back any longer and moved down to press his face into the neatly trimmed thatch of hair. He felt the velvet soft skin of Dean’s cock twitch against his cheek as he breathed in the essence of Dean. This was what brought it all back to him, how it had been between them back then, owning each other, but keeping it from everyone that knew them.

Sam turned his head and kissed the side of Dean’s cock as it lay against his face. Dean’s hips were practically vibrating with the need to move, and Sam admired how his brother was holding himself back, letting him take what he needed. He doubted Dean knew how much he needed himself, and Sam wanted to give it to him—everything. He extended his tongue and licked up and down the shaft slowly, feeling the skin move and catch on the roughness of his tongue. Dean moaned loudly, one hand coming down to land in Sam’s hair.

Sam sat up at that feeling, and reached over into the one bedside table for the tube of his favorite organic all-natural ingredient lube. There was only one bedside table in his bedroom, something he’d had to argue with the designer about. They had insisted on balance, and Sam had staked it out as a personal choice. He knew what it meant, that he was choosing to have this room be his personal solitary sanctuary, never to be shared on a permanent basis with another. Because back then, he couldn’t have imagined anything like this happening.

The this in this case being, opening himself on his own fingers as Dean writhed and thrust into his throat. He gagged and kept going, swallowing the tip of his brother as far back as he could, but pulling off before Dean could finish. He sat back on his heels and fisted Dean’s cock, slick with his own spit and the left-over lube, it glistened and swelled even harder in his hand.

Dean’s eyes glittered up at him, gone fully black with desire. Sam straddled his brother’s hips and let himself slowly sink down, he felt himself open and take Dean inside, he felt the pain at being opened for the first time in forever (fourteen years but who’s counting) and welcomed it.

“Welcome home, Dean,” Sam said, feeling himself flush all over at the embarrassment of voicing such a thing.

Dean just smiled and said, “Thank you, Sammy,” in a voice that held the same sort of emotion. They both seemed to be equally surprised at the grace of it all, the wary forgiveness, the tentative welcome, the ache to return to normal, the missed-this forever and finally-after-all-this-time feeling of it all.

Sam cut off any more conversation by moving his hips, sinking down and pulling back up slowly, feeling every inch of his brother slide through, the slow-drag friction insanely erotic. Sam clenched his inner walls in a graduated pulse as he moved and Dean seemed to lose control of himself, he flopped back, head hitting the pillow, one arm thrown over his eyes, hiding from him. Sam couldn’t have it, wouldn’t have it like that.

“Look at me, Dean,” Sam said, his command voice low and inescapable.

Dean moved his arm off his face, and slowly opened his eyes, those long eyelashes of his sticking briefly to his cheek, fluffing up to emphasize the eyes Sam had dreamt of every damn night they’d been apart. He looked completely undone, ravished even, the slicked-up puffy lips, the slackness of his expression, utterly besotted and open to anything Sam would give him in that moment.

Sam began moving his hips in a regular rhythm, and Dean joined him, planting his feet wide on the bed to thrust up as Sam slammed down, they moved in sync like they’d been practicing for twenty years. It had been about that long, but most of it they’d been doing it solo. Only in their memories of what had been, what they’d lost.

Sam meant to make Dean accept it, with every twist of hips he made Dean accept that this was exactly what he’d been missing. But it was what Sam could offer, what he could bargain with, the memory of all the years without this feeling, chasing it in random hookups across the country, he knew that Dean had never had anything close to this.

The feeling of a hand on his stomach made him realize that Dean was attempting to take control, to give him pleasure, but Sam wanted to take it. He knocked Dean’s hand away and shook his head. Dean smiled slow and cat-superior, realizing what Sam wanted. Dean sat up and arranged Sam in his lap, bending him this way and that until Sam was spread as wide as he possibly could be, in the perfect angle for Dean to hit him deep inside on every upstroke.

“C’mon, Sammy, want to come with you,” Dean husked in his ear, biting at his earlobe.

Sam melted into his brother’s touch, curling himself into his hold, pressing their mouths together, hot and sloppy and perfect. Dean kept it up, the perfect rough upstrokes, and Sam felt himself come apart from the inside out. He came back to himself with Dean wiping him gently with one of the soft washcloths from the bathroom. He opened his arms and Dean tucked himself up against his side, pressing their slick skin into a sweaty perfect mess. The smell of them, the musk of the sex and completion hit Sam, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this.

“I didn’t know, until just this second,” Sam said.

“Me either,” Dean agreed.

For once, they both knew exactly what they meant.

One of Dean’s hands was tracing nonsense designs on Sam’s back, barely keeping him aware.

“This is what you meant, making a life together?” Dean asked in a whisper that held all the hope Sam had seen in eyes earlier.

“Go to sleep, Dean. We’ll talk in the morning,” Sam said in a feigned sleepy mumble. He didn’t want to nail down the specifics of what that meant, not when he felt so open and vulnerable. Instead he let himself memorize the exact weight of his brother’s arms around him, the slowing rhythm of his breathing lulling him to sleep even though he wanted to stay awake and not miss a second of this, especially if it was a one time thing.

The next morning—well the same morning, Sam wasn’t awoken by his usual Zen chimes alarm, it was by his brother’s mouth. Dean was under the covers, working his morning wood with his mouth and hands. His fingers pressed in where Sam was sore from last night and Sam barely had time to get a hand in Dean’s hair before he was coming down his brother’s throat with a bitten-off cry. Dean licked and suckled him until Sam had to push him away, he could feel the bed shake as Dean brought himself off all over Sam’s stomach.

Dean crawled up from under the sheets and flopped next to Sam. His hand never left the cooling come on Sam’s taut belly, drawing designs and protective sigils into his skin. Sam knew it was the marking thing they used to do to each other. They couldn’t leave visible marks on each other back then, their father could have seen. So they’d always done it this way.

“What were you going to do, if I’d said no last night? If I’d kicked your ass out of the house like I probably should have?” Sam asked.

Dean’s hand stopped moving and he brought it up to his mouth to lick his fingers clean as he considered Sam’s question. “Dunno, go hang with Bobby for a while I guess. He’s always got some regular, non-hunting work that needs getting done.”

“You’d just get pulled back into hunting if you hang out with him, you know that.”

“Well, what’s the alternative for me? It’s not like I’ve got some fancy college degree or career like you do.”

“You could just stay home, I mean…um, stay here.” Sam internally kicked himself hard in the head for the slip.

“What, and be your kept man or some shit like that? You gonna take me to your fancy parties and introduce me as your “life-partner” or something even more lame?” Dean asked, disdain dripping from every word.

“That was the general idea, yeah. I already have more than enough money to live on, for both of us. I want to keep working, because I enjoy what I do.”

“Honestly, I think I’d get bored of being a kept man after a couple of weeks, but it would be a nice vacation from real life.”

“Dean, this is real life. This is my real life anyway, the one I made without you in it. I thought the idea under discussion was that you wanted to make one together now. Isn’t that what we said last night?”

“You know me, heat of the moment, I’ll say anything to tap this,” Dean smacked Sam’s ass so hard Sam almost jumped off the bed.

Sam rolled onto his back and stared at the reclaimed wood ceiling, letting himself momentarily get lost in all that glorious texture. He felt his heart begin to harden, the protective barriers he’d built over the years were being reassembled more quickly than he’d imagined possible. But it had to happen, he’d misunderstood things so completely, and well—honestly, it kind of took his breath away how wrong he’d been.

“Get out,” Sam said in the voice of command he used on his underlings at the office. It always worked, because he always followed through on what he said, and they all knew that he did.

“Baby, c’mon, you know I was just kidding,” Dean said, trying to gather Sam back into his arms.

Sam kicked at Dean’s legs and squirmed out of his hold, he sat up, pulled his robe on and stalked into the bathroom. “I am sure as hell not your baby. I want you out of here, now,” he said, just before shutting the door on his view of Dean’s shocked face. Sam locked the bathroom door for the first time ever, he’d never had anyone else in this space with him before. He’d never needed the protection here, not like he did now. Hell, he needed it more to keep himself from running back into the bedroom into Dean’s open arms. He had to get his shit back together here. He gripped the edge of the marble counter and stared at himself in the mirror.

The man he saw was not the composed, serene Sam Winchester that was internet famous and the head of one of the biggest tech law firms in the business. No, he saw the face of the dumbass who’d fallen for Dean Winchester’s one-sided smile one last time. That’s what this had to be, this couldn’t happen again. No family entanglements, that was his motto, his guiding creed, it was one of the big reasons he had achieved all this success. He had to grab onto that with both hands and hold on, instead of reaching for his brother like a drowning man. Because he wasn’t drowning, not at all. He was doing damn well, he looked around at the elegant furnishings and expensive finishes of the bathroom. Maybe he wasn’t one hundred percent happy, but he was content with his life.

He heard a quiet tap at the door. It made him hold his breath. What would Dean do here, would he pick the lock on the door and come in, or would he leave without a fuss? Just like the way he’d let Sam leave before.

“Sammy, I’m sorry. That’s not what I should have said, I didn’t really mean it. I was just fooling around. Because…uh, honestly, the whole ‘kept-man’ thing got to me. It’s hard to picture myself like that, and I don’t know if I can do that, even for you.”

Sam dropped his head and groaned quietly to himself. “Don’t you dare fall for it.”

“I want to try it though, I mean, if you’d still want me around after I said something so shitty,” Dean said, a little louder like he wanted to make sure Sam heard him through the door.

Sam glared at himself in the mirror, mouthed the words “Dumb Ass!” at himself and then opened the door.

Dean stood there, dressed only in his boxers, and a just-barely hopeful smile.

“I think you’re right, it’s not going to work out for you to just move in here and try to do the kept man thing. I can’t be the only thing your life revolves around, you’ll need something else. A job, school, whatever it is, I can set it up for you. And a place for you to live—one that’s not here. And then we’ll see how it goes. I think a time limit of six months sounds workable.”

“You’re still kicking me out of here then?”

“Yeah, I am, Dean. Because I am not your ‘baby’, or Sammy, or some random booty-call. What I am is an incredibly successful and wealthy lawyer who does not do family or personal attachments, not for fourteen years now. It’s going to be a period of transition for both of us. Let’s just be honest about that, right here, right now. Or it doesn’t happen.”

“Got it. You’re right. And by the way, you’re not just a booty-call, Sam, not to me, not ever.”

“Good, that’s…uh, good to know. I still want you to leave, but let me get you—“ Sam walked past Dean and got one of his business cards out of his wallet. He handed it to his brother who took it like it might have been made out of poison. “My personal cell number is on the bottom. Let me know where you might want to get set up and I’ll get one of my people to find you a place to live.”

“I want to be as close to where you are as I can. I mean…if that’s okay with you.”

“So, somewhere in the Napa area then, you want a house or an apartment?”

“Whatever, I’ll make it work,” Dean said. He turned away and started pulling his clothes on. Sam disappeared into his dressing room to do the same. When he re-entered the room, Sam noted Dean had left the borrowed sweater folded neatly on the dresser. Dean was bent over, tying the laces of his boots.

“Someone will be in touch later today. It may not seem like it, but I’m really glad you came here, Dean. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get started on my workday. I’d offer you breakfast, but all I’ve got is kale smoothies.”

“Sure, sure, Sammy—uh, sorry, Sam, I’ll just get out of your hair. Thanks,” Dean said, sounding a bit more emotional than Sam had expected after his mention of kale smoothies.

“For what?” Sam asked, confused by the seemingly random ‘thanks’.

Dean took a deep breath and stood up as tall as he could, squaring his shoulders like he did before going into a fight. “For not kicking me out the second you laid eyes on me, for getting me out of fucking prison, for helping me figure out a life after hunting, but mostly for maybe giving me another chance to be with you. Take your choice, or take all of the above.”

“I’ll take ‘em all, how about that?” Sam said with a small smile of satisfaction. Maybe he had gotten through to Dean after all.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you one last time?”

“Well hopefully this isn’t the last time,” Sam said, gathering Dean into his arms. He leaned down as Dean stretched up, meeting in the middle to press their lips together. Dean hummed a bit, a happy sound that felt good against Sam’s mouth, he returned the sound and deepened the kiss. It had to last for a while. At least the rest of the day while he got all his work done. It definitely didn’t feel like a one last kiss to him.

“Would you be able to come back here for dinner tonight?” Sam asked after they’d stepped back from their embrace.

“I’ll have to check my busy social calendar, but yeah, that’d probably work. When, and what can I bring? Something besides kale I hope?”

“Just bring your appetite, let’s say seven. I should be done with all my meetings by then.”

“See you then, Sam.”

Sam waved goodbye as his brother walked down the slate pathway out of the courtyard. He watched as Dean hunched up his shoulders against the chill of the morning, shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled off down the driveway that curved almost as much as that dearly familiar curve to his bowlegs. The one that Sam had sketched and made into his company’s logo, combined with the beautiful curve of Dean’s ass.

He smiled as he remembered using the OriginLab software to calculate those curves, importing them into Adobe Illustrator and then sending the finished design off to his own lawyer, asking for the copyright to be file for immediately. Yeah, that’s right he had found a way to copyright Dean’s ass. Probably one of the things he wouldn’t get around to sharing with his brother anytime soon. If you looked at the logo, it wasn’t at all obvious. And he seriously doubted Dean would put that together, as good as he was at figuring out patterns and symbols for hunting.

Now to figure out what to serve Dean for dinner, for Sam, it had to be whole food, preferably raw food. But he knew Dean wouldn’t be able to deal with just having that sort of thing for a meal. Sam had a chef that did locally-sourced fusion cooking for his dinner parties, he’d have his assistant arrange something with the chef, he had too much else to get done today to worry about shopping and preparing for a meal.

All day, during his meetings, Sam would find his focus drifting away from the topic or discussion, it was fucking annoying. He tried to get himself back into the zone, the mask of the efficient detached killer shark was too far away, now that his protective layer had been peeled back and discarded by the contact with his brother. It was an adjustment, it was going to take time, he reminded himself. It had taken a while to get to that detachment mindset that had made him so effective, it would take a while to carve out a new one that had some sort of balance. He was so far away from balance though, he wanted anything but that, sitting in his elegant San Francisco office staring out at the orange bridge that would take him back to Dean tonight. All he wanted was what lay there waiting for him at the other side of the bridge.

He heard his phone chime with the incoming text sound and tried to snap out of it. He slapped his own cheeks gently, that’s not all you want, you idiot. He stood up and paced, glad that he was alone in his office for the next hour. He needed to…he wanted to see if it would work. He grabbed his phone to check the text message. He’d forgotten he’d given Dean his private number. He quickly typed out a reply to Dean’s text.

Dean: Just checking if this number works or if you’ll answer.

Sam: How do you feel about steak tonight?

The cursor began blinking almost right away, Dean had been ready and waiting for him to text him back. He’d probably been sitting there with the phone in his hand, probably in the Impala somewhere. It made him smile and he felt a blush which was ridiculous, Dean wasn’t even here.

Dean: You know me, I’ll never turn down any meat you’re offering.

Sam: Rolling eyes emoji.

Dean: Lascivious tongue out emoji.

Sam: My assistant get in touch with you yet?

Dean: Yeah, they got me looking at a bunch of places in Napa.

Sam: Is it all too fancy for you?

Dean: So far, yeah, but I’ll deal.

Sam: Got to get back to work, I’ll see you tonight.

Dean: Yeah, I’ll be there, bye, Sammy.

Sam: It’s Sam!

Dean: Lol face emoji.

Sam tucked his phone in his desk drawer, out of sight out of mind—hopefully. He couldn’t help picturing Dean traipsing through the Napa real estate that his assistant had likely had him choosing from. It had all gotten insanely pricey in the last ten years, hardly anything still existed in the area that’d be close to his brother’s no-tell motel style. He hoped Dean would deal like he’d said, because Sam wanted him to be comfortable as well as safe. That way he could at least have a chance to relax into regular civilian life. Maybe if he did, then they’d have a prayer of making things work between them.

To Part Three