Fic: Kale or Nada (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 3 of 5

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Back to Part Two

Work—work, back to work, he made himself do it. Putting away all thoughts of Dean’s creamy soft skin under his hands last night, the musk of him, of them still filling his nostrils even though he’d showered twice. The things they’d said still resonated through him. The hope that Dean had let him see, he was going with pinning it all on that. Sam let the meetings roll by, all the appointments and clients and the work that underlay all his success, he let himself sink into it all morning and into the afternoon. He was genuinely surprised when his assistant reminded him of his dinner appointment.

“Did Dean give you any trouble today?” Sam asked as he scooped up his phone and briefcase to leave.

Alexi looked at him with one skeptical raised eyebrow. “No, he’s actually quite lovely, I’m not sure what all your warnings were about, sir. We found a place for him in the new Hawthorn Village development. The only argument was on the issue of one bedroom versus two.”

“Let me guess, he didn’t see the point of having two since he’s just one person,” Sam said with a laugh.

“Precisely that, sir, I guess you do know him inside and out, just like he said,” Alexi said.

“Inside and out, yes I suppose I do—thanks, Alexi. See you tomorrow,” Sam said.

“Dean said there was a possibility you’d be taking tomorrow off?” Alexi asked.

“Ohhh I just bet he did. No, that’s not a thing that will be happening. Don’t take directions on my schedule from him, please,” Sam said with a frown.

“Sorry, sir, of course. Have a good night, and chef Max let me know he’s left instructions for the meal on your counter,” Alexi said.

“Thank you, Alexi, for taking care of all this extra personal stuff for me today, I appreciate it,” Sam said.

“Not a problem sir, it’s my job, I’m happy to do it,” Alexi said.

Sam grumbled to himself at Dean’s presumption all through the traffic getting over the bridge. His Tesla was filled with NPR and all the worries of the world, but all he wanted was—he didn’t want to, he couldn’t finish that sentence anymore. And that bothered him. For fourteen years, he’d been so single-minded, driven in one sole direction, to succeed. And after just one night, his brother had knocked all that completely off track.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, it was all part of being owned. He could do the same type of thing right back at Dean now. The thought of that gave him a whole lot of satisfaction.

He pulled into his driveway, his silent car whooshing up the slate driveway past the parked Impala. She’d better not be dripping oil on it.

“God, listen to yourself,” he said out loud, staring at his own eyes in the rearview mirror. “Get it together, Sam. This is your house, not his, you’re in charge here, not him. It’s up to you how he fits in here."

Dean was of course, in the leather recliner, reading something, which made Sam want to crack a joke. Then he saw what it was, a copy of his autobiography. His staff had written most of it for him, and it didn’t mention anything that happened in his life before law school.

“Enjoying your reading?” Sam finally asked.

“Sure, just filling myself in on what I missed,” Dean said, turning down a corner of the page, obviously watching to see if Sam would object. Sam had more than one pristine copy of the book in his library, it didn’t matter. Dean could have this one and do what he wanted with it, burn it, jack off on it, whatever.

“Heard you found a place,” Sam said, leaving the rest unasked.

“Yeah, it’s hella fancy, way too nice for the likes of me, but at least I talked him into the one bedroom,” Dean said.

“I’m glad he listened to you, Alexi can be a bit much sometimes. But he keeps my life running, so I let him put a hand in when he needs to,” Sam said.

“So…are we eating, or what?” Dean asked, standing up from the recliner and setting the book on the glass topped table.

“Let me change, and then we’ll fire up the grill outside,” Sam said.

“I’m betting it’s not a hibachi grill on the patio,” Dean said.

“No—it’s a bit more complicated than that. I’ll show you,” Sam said, walking down the hallway. He switched his hips a bit more than absolutely necessary, wondering if Dean would take it as an invitation to follow him. He undressed and was under the water in a few moments, washing off the day. This part of his nighttime ritual was part of his routine that he wasn’t letting Dean postpone or upset. He felt the air change as the bathroom door opened and closed. Soon Dean’s hands slicked their way across his back and down to rest at the top of his ass.

“Goddamn do you ever look good, Sammy,” Dean said. “Feel so damn perfect in my hands, like this.”

Sam leaned back into Dean’s strong hands, relishing the hold his brother had on his body, and loving that he was strong enough to hold them both up. He rested there and soaked it up for a moment. Dean was really here. This was really happening. He turned in Dean’s hold and wrapped his arms around his brother, pulling him in close, slotting their bodies together.

Dean’s skin had so many more scars and imperfections, fourteen years worth of hunting and hard-living would do that to a man. He was still perfect, skin dusted with those maddening freckles everywhere, demanding that Sam lick and re-map every single one.

“You still worrying about the kale versus steak situation?” Sam teased.

“I can think about two things at once, usually. But not when you’re naked and wet in the shower. That seems like something I ought to concentrate on at the moment. We don’t want any head injuries.” Dean turned him around without letting him go for a second, their bodies melded together under the hot spray.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Sam purred as Dean’s hands began stroking him the rest of the way to full hardness. He wriggled his ass against the hot brand of Dean’s hard length, relishing the gasp of pleasure from Dean’s lips.

“God, I want to bend you over and do you right here right now,” Dean growled in his ear, his hand speeding up its movements on Sam’s cock.

Sam didn’t know what he wanted or needed in that moment, he wanted control like he’d had last night, but that seemed silly with Dean moving him around so effortlessly right now. God it was so hot, that his brother was so strong. He spread his legs and bent over, hands on the edge of the tile bench, presenting himself to Dean’s evident surprise. Sam soaked up the groan and growl that seeing him like that produced from his brother.

“Use the stuff in the green bottle,” Sam managed to say. It was the leave-in conditioner that he usually put on his hair. It was slippery and non-toxic, all natural, all that stuff. It would work to ease the way. Sam felt Dean’s fingers press into him, opening him up slow and careful, maddeningly slow.

“Hurry up, c’mon, I’m ready,” Sam said, knowing how much Dean loved it when he got bossy.

“Still the bossiest bottom to ever bottom, huh,” Dean said with an evident grin, his fingers were replaced by the familiar blunt tip of Dean’s cock, pressing in where Sam was sore and used from last night. The stretch and pull, the pain of it was so familiar already…again. He only wanted it more and harder, but Dean was going slow, careful, like he knew it was hurting Sam. It was all so damn tender and loving, so unlike what Sam remembered.

“’s it good, Sammy?” Dean asked in a slurred quiet voice, still keeping up a slow pressing rhythm, which was taking Sam apart piece by piece, he wasn’t sure where his words were. Or if he even had any, or if they were really needed. Instead he answered by pressing his hips back, to meet every one of Dean’s thrusts

“Please,” Sam finally managed to say, reaching back with both hands to grab at the back of Dean’s thighs, slipping in the spray of the hot water.

“I gotcha, Sammy,” Dean said, speeding up his movements, and wrapping a hand around Sam’s cock, his other hand bruise-tight around Sam’s hip. Sam lost it then, crying out Dean’s name and who knows what else as he clenched hard and inescapable around where they were joined.

Dean was calling out his name too, speeding up his thrusts, until he came, collapsing over Sam’s back in a warm huddle. He pulled out gently, both of them groaning at being parted again. Sam just wanted him to be there, always now, inside him or about to be, or just had been. That’s what he wanted, revisiting the question he’d struggled with on the drive home.

“You okay?” Dean asked, hands moving in slick circles on Sam’s back and flanks through the pounding water.

Sam pushed up from the tile bench and ducked under the spray of the water trying to compose himself. He couldn’t show it to Dean yet, that bottomless need, even if his brother had figured it out, he needed to keep the illusion—for a little while at least.

“Yeah, I’m good, really good. That was a nice way to end the work day, better than yoga maybe,” Sam teased.

“Better than yoga!” Dean yelled, slapping Sam’s ass with a grin. “You’re damn right!”

Sam gathered Dean into his arms, pinning him against the tile wall under the water, he took over Dean’s lips, stole his breath, kissed him soundless and breathless until they both swooned dangerously on the wet tiles. Sam’s stomach growled loud enough to be heard over the noise of the water.

“Let’s go eat, huh?” Sam said, switching off the shower. He handed Dean one of the luxuriously plush organic cotton bath towels. His eyes never left the sight of his brother’s skin, flushed pink and gorgeous, heated from the hot water, the sex and the rough treatment Dean was giving it with the towel.

Sam put a hand on Dean to stop him. “Let me,” Sam said. He took the towel from Dean and gently dried him off, head to toe, avoiding anything too sensitive until the very last. He folded the towel around Dean’s cock and balls holding him all in one big hand. He didn’t need to say it, not for himself, but Dean probably needed to hear it. “Mine,” Sam said, squeezing briefly and then letting the towel drop.

Dean stood there before him, naked and stunned into silence. His eyes were round and open in what almost looked like fear, but it was something else. Stunned acceptance maybe? He reached out a hand to take Sam’s towel from him, and silently repeated what Sam had done for him.

When Sam stood there, with a towel and Dean’s hand wrapped around his junk, hearing the same word pass his brother’s lips, he thought he’d finally had that stress-induced stroke his doctor had warned him about and died. They held each other, shower warm skin to skin, towels around their ankles forgotten.

Preparing the dinner that his chef had prepped was easy, it gave Sam’s hands something to do while his mind whirred and tried to plan what to do with what had just happened between them. The outside kitchen was situated so that the dining area was nearby. Dean was chattering about the different places the real estate agent had taken him earlier, and all of a sudden, it was all so normal that Sam could barely breathe. This could be his new normal—if he let it.

He looked out at the killer Napa view of the sunset glowing over the rolling hills and the fog coming in and thought about how he’d never even hesitated in buying this place just for the view, imagining himself growing old here, all alone, like he’d always imagined. And now there was a completely different future possible: He was sitting right there on his flagstone patio in one of the cushy modern outdoor seats at the marble topped table.

The steaks were done to perfection, and the fresh peach and kale salad had been tossed in the balsamic dressing, crumbles of fresh goat cheese and Greek olives glistening on top. Dean sat at the outdoor table, he’d been watching him man the grill the whole time. Sam wondered if he let Dean take a turn grilling, would go overboard like the manly stereotype that was out there. He placed the grill plate on the table between their places and seated himself. The wine had been opened but not poured, he filled their glasses and picked one up in a toast. Dean did the same, looking unsure about what to do next.

“A toast to the pleasure of unexpected visitors,” Sam said, clinking his glass to Dean’s. They each took a sip, eyes never leaving each other. “Hope you enjoy the steak, it’s from a local company, no antibiotics, all that good stuff.”

“Honestly, I’m more worried about the kale,” Dean joked.

“Just pretend it’s a very robust lettuce,” Sam said, watching Dean poke the salad with his fork and move the kale around the bowl. “It’s not going to kill you, I promise, and if you like it I also promise not to tell anyone.”

Dean frowned and grumbled down at his plate, but he forked up some kale and the salad toppings and popped it into his mouth. Sam watched with increasing delight as his brother not only didn’t spit it out, he didn’t even make his exaggerated I’m-being-poisoned face.

“It’s not as bad as I thought. So…uh tell me about how you know a guy like Barry,” Dean said.

“You mean, tell you how I know a shifter who happens to be a lawyer?” Sam asked. “I met him in law school, believe it or not. We went to a fancy reception at one of our professor’s houses and he had an interesting skin reaction to the silverware.”

“You’re saying that Barry was really trained as a lawyer then, not just stealing the memory of the last person he killed?” Dean asked, chewing the kale more than was strictly necessary while he talked, his mouth thankfully mostly stayed closed.

“He hadn’t ever killed anyone, except his father. And yeah, he’s an actual lawyer, the dude beat me out in the moot court competition.”

“So he just wanted out of the family business, that what you guys bonded over?”

“Something like that, and he listened to my sob story more than once all the way through,” Sam said.

“Sob story?” Dean asked, taking his first bite of steak.

Sam ignored the near-pornographic moan of pleasure from Dean when he tasted the steak. “When we’d party, sometimes I’d get chatty about what I’d left behind,” Sam admitted, eating a piece of the steak himself. He ate meat very rarely these days, but he had to acknowledge how good it was with a little moan of his own.

“Oh—” Dean said, cutting himself off from saying anything more. He busied himself cutting the rest of his steak into bite-sized pieces.

It was too much, it was too intimate too fast, Sam knew he had to put the brakes on for both of them, so he reached for the only emergency brake he had left available to him and yanked on it—hard.

To Part Four