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Entry tags:
Supernatural Fic: Compare, Contrast, Combine
Title: Compare, Contrast, Combine
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
keefaq
Pairing: Ellen/Dean, Ellen/Sam, Ellen/Dean/Sam
Genre: het, slash, threesome, Wincest
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~4800
Spoilers for 4.14 Sex and Violence and very mildly for Season 4 story arc.
Summary: PWP mostly. Sam knows what Dean wants now, and Ellen tries to help them begin to deal with the aftermath of the run in with the Siren.
Special thanks to my insightful and supportive betaskinscript, who improved this story immensely. I messed with it after the beta though, so probably added new mistakes.
Dean
Ellen shooed a few half conscious stragglers out of the bar and started wiping down the tables. It was good to have her own place again. More and more of the old crowd were finding their way to her as word spread that she was back in business. She glanced at Dean, the last straggler, as he dawdled over his beer.
The insurance money from the old place hadn’t covered the purchase of this larger establishment completely, but living in the downstairs rooms directly behind the bar had cut her expenses quite a bit, and with the money she was making renting the upstairs rooms she was doing okay. Keeping an apartment separate from the bar had been mostly to discourage Jo’s fixation on hunters and hunting, and since Jo had left anyway, it was easier to have home and work in the same building. Putting two beds in the largest room above the bar wasn’t good business sense, and letting Sam and Dean stay there rent free was even dumber, but she figured the coming fight entitled the boys to a helping hand, and she was glad that they were spending most of their down time here.
It was maybe a little strange for two grown men to share a room, but she knew they’d been covering each others’ backs for too long to be entirely comfortable alone. Their run in with the siren, the bare details of which she’d gotten from Bobby, had blown up the tension between them like a summer squall, but not enough for them to feel safer apart than together. Nevertheless, she hadn’t seen them so strained with each other ever, and Dean looked lost and tense, restless and searching for something to do with his distress. Whatever had happened between them, they both looked like they’d taken an emotional beating in additional to the physical one, and she ached to comfort them.
Dean sat at the bar, making no motion to leave. He’d watched her close up enough times to know her routine, and usually he’d pitch in and help, but tonight he sat and observed passively, spinning his almost empty beer bottle idly in one hand, the other hand resting on his upper thigh suggestively, and Ellen’s eyes were drawn toward the crotch of his jeans just as he’d intended. She took a long obvious look before raising her gaze back to his face and returning his knowing smile with one of her own. He raised his eyebrows as she leaned slightly over the bar toward him. He took a quick glance down her blouse before meeting her eye again. His second smile was slower, deliberately seductive.
Ellen straightened up, locked the door and started turning the chairs up onto the tables. He still made no move to help her. “How’s Jo doing?” he asked. Dean was a sweet boy, for all his posturing. Sweet enough to worry about Jo, as if she might forget about her own daughter, or risk hurting her over something like this.
“She’s fine,” Ellen answered. He held his gaze steady, waiting for more. “I wouldn’t worry about Jo, Dean,” she said. “She’s out on her own, finding out who she is. She’s found herself a real nice girlfriend.”
She had to give him credit. He was clearly surprised, but his eyes only widened slightly before he got control of his expression and pulled it in, gave her a little nod of understanding. “All right, then,” he said. He took a slow swallow from his beer, placed the bottle back carefully on the bar, his thumb nail picking idly at the label, leaving it up to her to decide where this was going.
“Pretty sure of yourself, there, boy,” she said, but she let it come out as a tease. He was sure of himself, sure enough that he didn’t answer, just flexed the hand on his thigh and watched her, still waiting to see what she’d do.
She headed out of the room, turned her head at the door as if he was an after thought. “You coming along?”
He followed her, relaxed and easy. He was used to this, used to women wanting him, casual about it. He came into her bedroom quietly, no nervous chatter or awkwardness, came up behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist, bent his head and brushed her blouse aside to touch his lips to her bare skin. She suppressed a shudder; he was way too young to undo her so easily.
She clicked on the lamp on the bedside table, lighting up the spare little room. At least the bed was ample sized. Some people might have replaced the bed, reluctant to share it with anyone after losing their husband too young, but it was a good solid piece of furniture with a lot of years of use left in it, and she wasn’t afraid of ghosts.
She turned around in Dean’s loose embrace, caught his lips with hers and he went with it, letting her tongue open his mouth and trace the inner edge of his bottom lip. She felt his smile with her thumb, then reached back to rub her hand along the back of his neck, across his hairline where she’d been looking all night, and it was just as good as she’d imagined. He was easy with her, letting her lead the way, leaning back and smiling as she slipped open the buttons on his shirt, his breath hitching when she slid one hand in to caress the bare skin of his chest. She bent her head and mouthed along his throat and chest, making him shiver.
He reached under her blouse and unsnapped her bra with practiced ease, pushing it up and gently caressing her breasts. “Take this off,” she said, sliding his shirt down off one of his shoulders. She pulled her own blouse over her head as he obliged. She thought he’d undress completely, but he only took off his shirt as she’d directed, draping it over her chair, and then stood quietly, still smiling gently at her, letting her decide how it would go.
She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and tugged him over to the bed, sat on the edge herself and undid his belt, opened his fly. He leaned down and kissed her, slow and sensual. He was good with his mouth, no surprise there. She had his pants open and pushed down off his hips, exposing his half hard cock to the air. She broke off the kiss to look at him. “You wanna get undressed?” she asked.
He made a little assenting noise and sat down to take off the rest of his clothes, then scooted up the bed until he could lean back against the headboard, naked and unselfconscious about it, comfortable in his skin. He watched her take her own clothes off with obvious pleasure, his cock giving a little pleased twitch when she reached to smooth her hair back out of the way. He had the kind of smile that made you want to smile back, so she did.
She crawled up over him and he let her look her fill. His body was gorgeous, all smooth lines peppered with tiny freckles that saved him from blandness. She resisted the impulse to run her hand over his tattoo. That wasn’t for her, and she knew it.
She dropped her head and mouthed at the head of his cock, let her saliva coat him and felt a surge of lust as he hardened under her. She let her mouth slide down easy, taking more of him as he got harder, glanced up to see his mouth open slightly, his eyes half closed but watching her intently, breath shallow. She rubbed her thumbs along the crease of his thighs and down under his balls before letting go of his cock and pulling herself up to kiss him.
He grabbed at the condom he’d put on her bedside table when he’d undressed. Ellen trailed her fingers over the muscle of his shoulder, not as hard as Sam’s, but firm enough. “Let me do it, love,” she said, and it was a measure of his exhaustion that he didn’t object to the endearment or her help, handing over the condom and letting her smooth it down over his cock.
His hand slipped down, dipped between her legs. She was wet, had been wet for hours from watching his little performance in the bar. She pulled back from the kiss. “You’re not gonna break me, Dean,” she said. He laughed soft-like, not offended. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in, kissing her with more heat, but still refusing to be hurried. His other hand stayed between her legs, pushed in, stroked her and then circled her clit, patiently and thoroughly feeling out what she liked. She let him pull an orgasm out of her, and he was good at it, hands going all around her, taking care of her, nuzzling his mouth down over her face, surrounding her in his body and coaxing out her release, staying with her as she slowed and calmed down, his touch going light and teasing, starting her up again effortlessly. It was obvious why a certain type of woman, no girl, would hold the memory of sex with him close. He was all about taking care of his partner, making sure they were satisfied, treating her almost reverently.
She balanced over him with one arm and took hold of his cock, running her thumb over the head and drawing a little whimper out of him as she guided him into her body. She slid down onto him, and he lay still, letting her set up her own rhythm, lifting herself up and down on him slowly. She leaned over him, thinking he might mouth at her breasts, but he didn’t, bringing his hands up to gently caress them instead. He dropped one hand down and circled her clit, already knowing how she liked it, and she could feel a second orgasm growing on her slowly and powerfully. She shook her head slightly, and he understood immediately, backing off and stroking her thigh gently to give her a moment to slow down, then going back onto her clit and rubbing a little more insistently.
“Good, that’s good,” and she was too far gone to talk anymore, focusing down on her pleasure and moving faster, grabbing his shoulders roughly as he pushed her through it. He rolled them both over and started rutting into her faster, chasing his own release. She tightened her muscles down over him and felt the moment he lost control, his hips stuttering an irregular rhythm and then going still, pressed tightly into her. He’d kept enough awareness to stay propped up and avoid crushing her, and he rolled slowly off her, catching the condom carefully as he pulled out.
She wanted to cuddle and fondle him, sooth the hurt, but she didn’t think he would tolerate being cared for like that. He went into the bathroom and came out with a warm wet cloth, started to clean her up, but she waved him off. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said. “You’d better get back to your room before your brother misses you and comes looking for you.” He carefully didn’t look relieved to be let off the hook as he pulled his clothing back on.
She stood up naked and kissed him tenderly, and he let her do it, even bending his head to rest his forehead against hers, letting her be the one to break the moment. “Go on, get yourself out of here,” she said. He grinned and obeyed.
Sam
Dean had gone off for the evening to help Bobby with something that evidently only needed two, and Sam was aimless without his brother, hanging out in the bar like he never did. He wasn’t a boy any more, he’d filled out nicely, Ellen noticed. He was noticing her right back, paying close attention to everything she said, smiling when she turned her sarcasm on some of the duller customers, his eyes flicking over her body appreciatively without being crude about it.
When he got up to leave she stopped him, laying her hand over his. “About to close up here,” she said, “but you’re welcome to stick around for a spell.”
He stared at her, his tongue tracing his lower lip thoughtfully before nodding. He moved around the room straightening things up and turning the chairs over with his large, capable hands, oddly graceful, his size and strength reined in, making the room feel small with his presence.
He shooed the last wobbly drunk out the door with an ease that spoke of experience, making her think of his daddy’s hard drinking. “You had Dean up here a couple of nights ago,” he said.
“Is that a problem?” She hadn’t expected him to go there.
He smiled. “No, it’s not a problem. Not at all.” She didn’t know what to make of his guileless expression.
“Come on then,” she finally said, motioning him to follow her.
“Gotta say, Ellen, I didn’t figure you for being interested in random pick ups.” But he came along into her room quickly enough, and he was almost smirking.
“Nothing random about it.” That pulled a genuine smile out of him, the first one she’d seen on his careworn face in a long time.
He studied her for a moment, getting a read on her mood before leaning down and taking her mouth into a rough kiss, pushing in and laying claim to the inside, and she felt an answering heat and kissed back just as hard. He had hold of her arm and practically dragged her over to her bed, making her gasp. She pushed him off, catching her breath. “Easy, there,” she said. She fumbled at the light in the near darkness.
He grabbed her again as the light came on, his eyes glinting dark with lust. “You want it easy?” he asked. It came out rough and dirty sounding, and she flushed, her body revving up under his passion, making her dizzy and short of breath. He read the answer to his question in her body and kissed her again, harsh and impatient, pulling her up onto her toes to reach his mouth, scrabbling at her blouse with one hand while easily holding her in place with the other hand wrapped around the small of her back.
She’d heard Dean say more than once that Sam took after their father, but she couldn’t see it. John was more like Dean, a hard shell thrown on in a desperate attempt to protect his soft underbelly, but Sam was hard all the way through, a real hunter, able to do whatever needed to be done, and she could feel that mental hardness played out physically in the muscles of his arms as he shoved her down onto her bed.
She grunted as he crawled up over her, welcoming the weight he rested on her, though he had the good sense to prop himself up with one arm so as not to crush her completely. He rolled her with his huge hands, pulling off her clothing and his own impatiently, his urgency feeding hers.
"Tell me about Dean," he demanded.
She was surprised at his boldness, though not by the sentiment it revealed. She'd seen the way it was with them long ago, just never thought they would own up to it. “This is how we did it,” she said when they were naked together.
Sam’s eyes went darker. “Tell me,” he said. He bent his head and pulled her nipple into his mouth, suckling wet and sloppy.
“He was on his back like I am.” Sam was quiet, listening.
“And I was over him, like you are. Rode him like that.”
He covered himself with a condom she hadn’t seen him produce, still licking greedily at her breast. “You gonna do Dean again?”
“I don’t think so,” she answered truthfully. She’d meant to titillate, but she ruined the moment by adding, “He wouldn’t let me help.”
Sam let go of her breast, looked up at her with all the flirting playfulness gone from his face. “Yeah, I know.” He pulled himself up and kissed her, slow and full of sadness. Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers in a gesture identical to his brother’s, sighed a little, and shook his head, trying to shake off the mood. “You like being on your back?” he asked, clearly reaching to reclaim the heat of their encounter. “What’s your favorite position?”
“This is good,” she said. “I like it from behind, like to be on my stomach best, but this is good.”
He pushed into her in one long slow stroke. “Maybe next time,” he said. “I want to do you like this now.”
She would have laughed at his assumption, but he was moving in her, snapping his hips up hard into her and making her breath huff out, short and choppy. She moved with him, enjoying his ease with his body and with her, his lack of restraint making her feel free to let go, too. For all his passion, he was careful not to hurt, responding to her body while taking his own pleasure from her. He wrapped his arms around the back of her neck and kissed her, biting at her lips not quite hard enough to cause real pain. She relaxed her mouth and he pushed his tongue inside, sweeping over her own tongue possessively.
His fingernails found the sensitive spot on her neck and scraped there, making her arch up into him, her hands tightening around his back. He answered the little whimpering sound he’d pulled out of her with a growl, fucking into her even harder and she stopped moving, letting him do the work and just feeling him thrusting with a deep and steady rhythm that brought her over into a powerful orgasm. He went with her, orgasms so close together as to be almost simultaneous, kept moving in her until she pressed one hand to his hip and gasped out, “Enough.”
He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him and tucking her head under his chin gently, sill stroking her neck, but tenderly now, all the roughness gone soft. “How much did Bobby tell you?”
“Just that the siren got to Dean and that she set you two to fighting.”
He laughed. “Yeah, except that it wasn’t a she. I don’t know exactly what happened between Dean and the siren while I wasn’t there, but I’m pretty sure I know what Dean wanted to happen. Just wish I knew if he’d be able to accept it.”
She tipped her head back and studied the yearning, wistful expression face. "We could try," she offered.
She woke to the creeping light of dawn coming through the small gap in her curtain. The light had been switched off at some point, not by her. Sam stirred, leaned over and kissed her with all the gentleness he hadn’t shown before. “I’d better go,” he said softly. She nodded without answering, watched him pull his clothes on slowly and unselfconsciously. He kissed her again before he left, pushing her hair back and taking his time with it.
Sam and Dean
Sam was there ahead of her, sitting on her grandmother’s solid wooden rocking chair, shaggy head bent over a book. She plucked it out of his hands ands laid it on the table without looking at it. “This isn’t a library, Sweetie,” she said. “I didn’t invite you back here to read.” He studied her in his quiet, thoughtful way. She noticed again how much he’d changed in the last year, grown so much harder, harder than Dean or his father had ever been. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.
“I’m sure.” He shook his head, stretched his arms out in front of him, fingers entwined, and cracked his knuckles. “Not sure it’s a good idea, but I’ve got to do something. We can’t go on like this.” His gaze went past her, grew softer, and she turned around to see Dean standing in the doorway looking puzzled.
“Come on in, Dean,” she said.
“S’okay,” he said, making a vague gesture back at the doorway even as he stepped toward her. “I’ll catch you another time.”
Sam turned away, letting her handle Dean for the moment, but now that she’d gotten them both into her room, she wasn’t sure how to keep them there. She caught at Dean’s arm. “Stay,” she said. It was almost comical the way Dean stopped moving at her commanding tone, but he only paused for a second before pulling free of her.
“Dean,” Sam said, still without looking at either of them. “Don’t you get it? She invited us both.”
Dean’s eyes went wide as he took in his brother’s insinuating tone.
“He won’t stay,” Sam said. “He’s too scared. Thing you don’t know about Dean, Ellen, is that he’s kind of straight laced when you come right down to it. Isn’t that right, big brother?” Sam folded his arms and leaned over her shoulder, mocking his brother with a knowing smile. “Go, on, Dean.” He turned his back dismissively. “Chicken,” the word slid out of him softly. The look of outrage that pulled from Dean was almost pitiful; Sam knew so well how to play him.
“Come on, Dean,” Ellen intervened. “You know I don’t bite, and I promise I’ll make Sam behave. I bet you know how to cut loose and have a good time.”
“Damn right,” Dean said, but his posture was stiff and awkward when she bent his head down to kiss him. He shifted his feet as if he couldn’t completely quell the urge to retreat even as he kissed her back slow and sensuous, dipping his tongue into her mouth and tasting her.
Sam had come up behind her and now lifted her hair up and worked his mouth along the back of her neck as if he’d forgotten all about Dean, but his trembling lips belied his apparent ease. He pulled her around, shooting a look at Dean and kissing her roughly, breaking off abruptly and quirking an eyebrow at Dean as he spun her back to face him, as if she was a toy for them to scuffle over.
Dean didn’t answer the challenge. He was clearly way out of his comfort zone, close to freaking out but not willing to admit it. She put her hand over his cheek and kissed him again, still gentle, and when she took his hand and led him to the bed he followed her meekly. Sam moved with them, but she kept her body between them, trying to make it easier for Dean.
Sam pulled her up to the head of the bed, spooned up behind her and started nibbling on her neck again, one large hot palm caressing her stomach and running down over her upper thigh. She arched her back, pressing her neck tight against his mouth and rubbing her backside against his groin at the same time, feeling how hard he was through all the layers of their clothing. Dean sat on the edge of the bed uneasily as Sam’s hands went to the zipper of her jeans and opened them. He slid both hands down inside her underwear and stroked her firmly, making her moan and buck her hips up against him.
Dean licked his lips, watching intently as Sam slipped her jeans and underwear down almost to her knees, spread her thighs and dipped one finger inside of her. “Dean,” Sam said, gesturing toward her clothing and Dean finally moved, grabbing and pulling her things the rest of the way off. Sam spread her thighs even wider, offering her body up to Dean. “Want to see your mouth on her, Dean,” the words rumbled against her shoulder and Dean seemed to take it as an order, bent down and licked at her eagerly, teasing her with tongue and lips, as Sam stroked her thighs further apart for him. She had to push Sam’s hand from her shoulder as his biting went too hard. “Sorry,” he said breathlessly.
Dean sat up and started undressing, and Sam shifted her around to get his own mouth onto her, laying his claim down over Dean’s. She pushed him away and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. He leaned back, letting her undress him, his eyes following Dean, who had stood up to finish taking his own clothing off, and was hovering over them, looking uncertain and heartbreakingly beautiful. He settled himself behind her, slipping his hands about her waist and laying soothing kisses across her neck where Sam had bitten.
Finally they were all naked, and Sam shifted them around according to some inner vision he apparently had, getting an unresisting Dean on his back and putting her over him. “You want to do it like this again?” she asked Dean, and he nodded, looking relieved to have her back between himself and Sam. She lowered herself onto his cock, thick strands of her own juices spilling down onto his thighs and making everything slick and easy.
Sam’s chest was against her back, one hand pressed to her abdomen between her body and Dean’s, and he pushed down, brushed over her clit and lower, tracing her opening and making Dean gasp. He was pressing under Dean’s cock, pushing him up into her and Dean thrust roughly, his breath loud by her ear. They both smelled of the cool cocoa butter from the body wash and shampoo she’d stocked the bathrooms with; she’d chosen it to mark the people she cared for here, her people. The scent surrounded her, blurring the edges of the two men, connecting them around her.
Sam pulled his hand free and grabbed both her hips, his fingers tight. “Gonna do you like this, Ellen. From behind. Like you said.”
“Yeah, like that, Sam,” she answered, though she didn’t see how he could fit his huge cock in with Dean’s. The angle was awkward, and after fumbling for a bit, he grabbed Dean and slid them both down the bed so that their legs hung off the bottom and he could get positioned to enter her. His cock finally made it to the right place and he started to push up under Dean’s cock. The fullness was just on the edge of painful, and Ellen dropped her head to Dean’s shoulder, sweat slick under her forehead. Dean lost his cool when their cocks came together, his wild thrusts into her causing Sam’s cock to slip back out. Dean drew in a ragged breath and stopped moving, though he couldn’t still the harsh gasps rasping out of his throat or the heaving of his chest against her. He reached his hands across and grabbed onto Sam, pulling Sam tight against her.
Sam was looking past her at Dean, and she could feel some kind of non verbal signal passing between them like an electrical shock before they started moving in tandem, one pressing into her as the other pulled almost all the way out. The feeling of them all around and inside her was incredible, she could barely move at all but it wasn’t necessary, they were doing all the work for her. Wave and after wave of sensation passed through her building up toward a powerful climax, but Dean was ahead of her. He came still pressed tight against her and Sam waited through it, then picked up his own pace when Dean drew back sated. Sam’s hand squeezed in between them pressed down on her again, sending her over the edge, and going right over with her. Dean’s hands ran freely over both of them as they came together.
Ellen could feel their hammering heartbeats slow practically in unison, their chests heaving for breath against her cheek and back. She buried her face in Dean’s neck for a moment before moving off him, cuddling to one side as Sam slid into place opposite her.
“You boys can’t afford to be fighting each other any more,” she said, when her breathing had evened out enough to speak.
“Yes,” Sam answered. He looked to Dean for agreement, but Dean was looking at Ellen, seeking something from her, permission or absolution that wasn’t hers to give.
Whatever he saw on her face seemed to satisfy him, and he cleared his throat, eyes turning back to seek out his brother’s, and said a simple “yes.”
Sam leaned over and brushed his lips to Dean’s throat before taking his mouth. Dean’s hand tightened on hers, trembling slightly, still uncertain, as Sam kissed him with aching tenderness.
“I couldn’t stand the thought of you being with him,” Sam said, but Dean turned his head aside abruptly, rejecting that.
“Okay,” Sam said. He took a breath, looked like he wanted to say more, apologize or reassure, but Dean kept his head turned away, and finally Sam lay back down, throwing one long arm across them both and pulling them close.
Author:
keefaqPairing: Ellen/Dean, Ellen/Sam, Ellen/Dean/Sam
Genre: het, slash, threesome, Wincest
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~4800
Spoilers for 4.14 Sex and Violence and very mildly for Season 4 story arc.
Summary: PWP mostly. Sam knows what Dean wants now, and Ellen tries to help them begin to deal with the aftermath of the run in with the Siren.
Special thanks to my insightful and supportive beta
skinscript, who improved this story immensely. I messed with it after the beta though, so probably added new mistakes.Ellen shooed a few half conscious stragglers out of the bar and started wiping down the tables. It was good to have her own place again. More and more of the old crowd were finding their way to her as word spread that she was back in business. She glanced at Dean, the last straggler, as he dawdled over his beer.
The insurance money from the old place hadn’t covered the purchase of this larger establishment completely, but living in the downstairs rooms directly behind the bar had cut her expenses quite a bit, and with the money she was making renting the upstairs rooms she was doing okay. Keeping an apartment separate from the bar had been mostly to discourage Jo’s fixation on hunters and hunting, and since Jo had left anyway, it was easier to have home and work in the same building. Putting two beds in the largest room above the bar wasn’t good business sense, and letting Sam and Dean stay there rent free was even dumber, but she figured the coming fight entitled the boys to a helping hand, and she was glad that they were spending most of their down time here.
It was maybe a little strange for two grown men to share a room, but she knew they’d been covering each others’ backs for too long to be entirely comfortable alone. Their run in with the siren, the bare details of which she’d gotten from Bobby, had blown up the tension between them like a summer squall, but not enough for them to feel safer apart than together. Nevertheless, she hadn’t seen them so strained with each other ever, and Dean looked lost and tense, restless and searching for something to do with his distress. Whatever had happened between them, they both looked like they’d taken an emotional beating in additional to the physical one, and she ached to comfort them.
Dean sat at the bar, making no motion to leave. He’d watched her close up enough times to know her routine, and usually he’d pitch in and help, but tonight he sat and observed passively, spinning his almost empty beer bottle idly in one hand, the other hand resting on his upper thigh suggestively, and Ellen’s eyes were drawn toward the crotch of his jeans just as he’d intended. She took a long obvious look before raising her gaze back to his face and returning his knowing smile with one of her own. He raised his eyebrows as she leaned slightly over the bar toward him. He took a quick glance down her blouse before meeting her eye again. His second smile was slower, deliberately seductive.
Ellen straightened up, locked the door and started turning the chairs up onto the tables. He still made no move to help her. “How’s Jo doing?” he asked. Dean was a sweet boy, for all his posturing. Sweet enough to worry about Jo, as if she might forget about her own daughter, or risk hurting her over something like this.
“She’s fine,” Ellen answered. He held his gaze steady, waiting for more. “I wouldn’t worry about Jo, Dean,” she said. “She’s out on her own, finding out who she is. She’s found herself a real nice girlfriend.”
She had to give him credit. He was clearly surprised, but his eyes only widened slightly before he got control of his expression and pulled it in, gave her a little nod of understanding. “All right, then,” he said. He took a slow swallow from his beer, placed the bottle back carefully on the bar, his thumb nail picking idly at the label, leaving it up to her to decide where this was going.
“Pretty sure of yourself, there, boy,” she said, but she let it come out as a tease. He was sure of himself, sure enough that he didn’t answer, just flexed the hand on his thigh and watched her, still waiting to see what she’d do.
She headed out of the room, turned her head at the door as if he was an after thought. “You coming along?”
He followed her, relaxed and easy. He was used to this, used to women wanting him, casual about it. He came into her bedroom quietly, no nervous chatter or awkwardness, came up behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist, bent his head and brushed her blouse aside to touch his lips to her bare skin. She suppressed a shudder; he was way too young to undo her so easily.
She clicked on the lamp on the bedside table, lighting up the spare little room. At least the bed was ample sized. Some people might have replaced the bed, reluctant to share it with anyone after losing their husband too young, but it was a good solid piece of furniture with a lot of years of use left in it, and she wasn’t afraid of ghosts.
She turned around in Dean’s loose embrace, caught his lips with hers and he went with it, letting her tongue open his mouth and trace the inner edge of his bottom lip. She felt his smile with her thumb, then reached back to rub her hand along the back of his neck, across his hairline where she’d been looking all night, and it was just as good as she’d imagined. He was easy with her, letting her lead the way, leaning back and smiling as she slipped open the buttons on his shirt, his breath hitching when she slid one hand in to caress the bare skin of his chest. She bent her head and mouthed along his throat and chest, making him shiver.
He reached under her blouse and unsnapped her bra with practiced ease, pushing it up and gently caressing her breasts. “Take this off,” she said, sliding his shirt down off one of his shoulders. She pulled her own blouse over her head as he obliged. She thought he’d undress completely, but he only took off his shirt as she’d directed, draping it over her chair, and then stood quietly, still smiling gently at her, letting her decide how it would go.
She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and tugged him over to the bed, sat on the edge herself and undid his belt, opened his fly. He leaned down and kissed her, slow and sensual. He was good with his mouth, no surprise there. She had his pants open and pushed down off his hips, exposing his half hard cock to the air. She broke off the kiss to look at him. “You wanna get undressed?” she asked.
He made a little assenting noise and sat down to take off the rest of his clothes, then scooted up the bed until he could lean back against the headboard, naked and unselfconscious about it, comfortable in his skin. He watched her take her own clothes off with obvious pleasure, his cock giving a little pleased twitch when she reached to smooth her hair back out of the way. He had the kind of smile that made you want to smile back, so she did.
She crawled up over him and he let her look her fill. His body was gorgeous, all smooth lines peppered with tiny freckles that saved him from blandness. She resisted the impulse to run her hand over his tattoo. That wasn’t for her, and she knew it.
She dropped her head and mouthed at the head of his cock, let her saliva coat him and felt a surge of lust as he hardened under her. She let her mouth slide down easy, taking more of him as he got harder, glanced up to see his mouth open slightly, his eyes half closed but watching her intently, breath shallow. She rubbed her thumbs along the crease of his thighs and down under his balls before letting go of his cock and pulling herself up to kiss him.
He grabbed at the condom he’d put on her bedside table when he’d undressed. Ellen trailed her fingers over the muscle of his shoulder, not as hard as Sam’s, but firm enough. “Let me do it, love,” she said, and it was a measure of his exhaustion that he didn’t object to the endearment or her help, handing over the condom and letting her smooth it down over his cock.
His hand slipped down, dipped between her legs. She was wet, had been wet for hours from watching his little performance in the bar. She pulled back from the kiss. “You’re not gonna break me, Dean,” she said. He laughed soft-like, not offended. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in, kissing her with more heat, but still refusing to be hurried. His other hand stayed between her legs, pushed in, stroked her and then circled her clit, patiently and thoroughly feeling out what she liked. She let him pull an orgasm out of her, and he was good at it, hands going all around her, taking care of her, nuzzling his mouth down over her face, surrounding her in his body and coaxing out her release, staying with her as she slowed and calmed down, his touch going light and teasing, starting her up again effortlessly. It was obvious why a certain type of woman, no girl, would hold the memory of sex with him close. He was all about taking care of his partner, making sure they were satisfied, treating her almost reverently.
She balanced over him with one arm and took hold of his cock, running her thumb over the head and drawing a little whimper out of him as she guided him into her body. She slid down onto him, and he lay still, letting her set up her own rhythm, lifting herself up and down on him slowly. She leaned over him, thinking he might mouth at her breasts, but he didn’t, bringing his hands up to gently caress them instead. He dropped one hand down and circled her clit, already knowing how she liked it, and she could feel a second orgasm growing on her slowly and powerfully. She shook her head slightly, and he understood immediately, backing off and stroking her thigh gently to give her a moment to slow down, then going back onto her clit and rubbing a little more insistently.
“Good, that’s good,” and she was too far gone to talk anymore, focusing down on her pleasure and moving faster, grabbing his shoulders roughly as he pushed her through it. He rolled them both over and started rutting into her faster, chasing his own release. She tightened her muscles down over him and felt the moment he lost control, his hips stuttering an irregular rhythm and then going still, pressed tightly into her. He’d kept enough awareness to stay propped up and avoid crushing her, and he rolled slowly off her, catching the condom carefully as he pulled out.
She wanted to cuddle and fondle him, sooth the hurt, but she didn’t think he would tolerate being cared for like that. He went into the bathroom and came out with a warm wet cloth, started to clean her up, but she waved him off. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said. “You’d better get back to your room before your brother misses you and comes looking for you.” He carefully didn’t look relieved to be let off the hook as he pulled his clothing back on.
She stood up naked and kissed him tenderly, and he let her do it, even bending his head to rest his forehead against hers, letting her be the one to break the moment. “Go on, get yourself out of here,” she said. He grinned and obeyed.
Dean had gone off for the evening to help Bobby with something that evidently only needed two, and Sam was aimless without his brother, hanging out in the bar like he never did. He wasn’t a boy any more, he’d filled out nicely, Ellen noticed. He was noticing her right back, paying close attention to everything she said, smiling when she turned her sarcasm on some of the duller customers, his eyes flicking over her body appreciatively without being crude about it.
When he got up to leave she stopped him, laying her hand over his. “About to close up here,” she said, “but you’re welcome to stick around for a spell.”
He stared at her, his tongue tracing his lower lip thoughtfully before nodding. He moved around the room straightening things up and turning the chairs over with his large, capable hands, oddly graceful, his size and strength reined in, making the room feel small with his presence.
He shooed the last wobbly drunk out the door with an ease that spoke of experience, making her think of his daddy’s hard drinking. “You had Dean up here a couple of nights ago,” he said.
“Is that a problem?” She hadn’t expected him to go there.
He smiled. “No, it’s not a problem. Not at all.” She didn’t know what to make of his guileless expression.
“Come on then,” she finally said, motioning him to follow her.
“Gotta say, Ellen, I didn’t figure you for being interested in random pick ups.” But he came along into her room quickly enough, and he was almost smirking.
“Nothing random about it.” That pulled a genuine smile out of him, the first one she’d seen on his careworn face in a long time.
He studied her for a moment, getting a read on her mood before leaning down and taking her mouth into a rough kiss, pushing in and laying claim to the inside, and she felt an answering heat and kissed back just as hard. He had hold of her arm and practically dragged her over to her bed, making her gasp. She pushed him off, catching her breath. “Easy, there,” she said. She fumbled at the light in the near darkness.
He grabbed her again as the light came on, his eyes glinting dark with lust. “You want it easy?” he asked. It came out rough and dirty sounding, and she flushed, her body revving up under his passion, making her dizzy and short of breath. He read the answer to his question in her body and kissed her again, harsh and impatient, pulling her up onto her toes to reach his mouth, scrabbling at her blouse with one hand while easily holding her in place with the other hand wrapped around the small of her back.
She’d heard Dean say more than once that Sam took after their father, but she couldn’t see it. John was more like Dean, a hard shell thrown on in a desperate attempt to protect his soft underbelly, but Sam was hard all the way through, a real hunter, able to do whatever needed to be done, and she could feel that mental hardness played out physically in the muscles of his arms as he shoved her down onto her bed.
She grunted as he crawled up over her, welcoming the weight he rested on her, though he had the good sense to prop himself up with one arm so as not to crush her completely. He rolled her with his huge hands, pulling off her clothing and his own impatiently, his urgency feeding hers.
"Tell me about Dean," he demanded.
She was surprised at his boldness, though not by the sentiment it revealed. She'd seen the way it was with them long ago, just never thought they would own up to it. “This is how we did it,” she said when they were naked together.
Sam’s eyes went darker. “Tell me,” he said. He bent his head and pulled her nipple into his mouth, suckling wet and sloppy.
“He was on his back like I am.” Sam was quiet, listening.
“And I was over him, like you are. Rode him like that.”
He covered himself with a condom she hadn’t seen him produce, still licking greedily at her breast. “You gonna do Dean again?”
“I don’t think so,” she answered truthfully. She’d meant to titillate, but she ruined the moment by adding, “He wouldn’t let me help.”
Sam let go of her breast, looked up at her with all the flirting playfulness gone from his face. “Yeah, I know.” He pulled himself up and kissed her, slow and full of sadness. Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers in a gesture identical to his brother’s, sighed a little, and shook his head, trying to shake off the mood. “You like being on your back?” he asked, clearly reaching to reclaim the heat of their encounter. “What’s your favorite position?”
“This is good,” she said. “I like it from behind, like to be on my stomach best, but this is good.”
He pushed into her in one long slow stroke. “Maybe next time,” he said. “I want to do you like this now.”
She would have laughed at his assumption, but he was moving in her, snapping his hips up hard into her and making her breath huff out, short and choppy. She moved with him, enjoying his ease with his body and with her, his lack of restraint making her feel free to let go, too. For all his passion, he was careful not to hurt, responding to her body while taking his own pleasure from her. He wrapped his arms around the back of her neck and kissed her, biting at her lips not quite hard enough to cause real pain. She relaxed her mouth and he pushed his tongue inside, sweeping over her own tongue possessively.
His fingernails found the sensitive spot on her neck and scraped there, making her arch up into him, her hands tightening around his back. He answered the little whimpering sound he’d pulled out of her with a growl, fucking into her even harder and she stopped moving, letting him do the work and just feeling him thrusting with a deep and steady rhythm that brought her over into a powerful orgasm. He went with her, orgasms so close together as to be almost simultaneous, kept moving in her until she pressed one hand to his hip and gasped out, “Enough.”
He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him and tucking her head under his chin gently, sill stroking her neck, but tenderly now, all the roughness gone soft. “How much did Bobby tell you?”
“Just that the siren got to Dean and that she set you two to fighting.”
He laughed. “Yeah, except that it wasn’t a she. I don’t know exactly what happened between Dean and the siren while I wasn’t there, but I’m pretty sure I know what Dean wanted to happen. Just wish I knew if he’d be able to accept it.”
She tipped her head back and studied the yearning, wistful expression face. "We could try," she offered.
She woke to the creeping light of dawn coming through the small gap in her curtain. The light had been switched off at some point, not by her. Sam stirred, leaned over and kissed her with all the gentleness he hadn’t shown before. “I’d better go,” he said softly. She nodded without answering, watched him pull his clothes on slowly and unselfconsciously. He kissed her again before he left, pushing her hair back and taking his time with it.
Sam was there ahead of her, sitting on her grandmother’s solid wooden rocking chair, shaggy head bent over a book. She plucked it out of his hands ands laid it on the table without looking at it. “This isn’t a library, Sweetie,” she said. “I didn’t invite you back here to read.” He studied her in his quiet, thoughtful way. She noticed again how much he’d changed in the last year, grown so much harder, harder than Dean or his father had ever been. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.
“I’m sure.” He shook his head, stretched his arms out in front of him, fingers entwined, and cracked his knuckles. “Not sure it’s a good idea, but I’ve got to do something. We can’t go on like this.” His gaze went past her, grew softer, and she turned around to see Dean standing in the doorway looking puzzled.
“Come on in, Dean,” she said.
“S’okay,” he said, making a vague gesture back at the doorway even as he stepped toward her. “I’ll catch you another time.”
Sam turned away, letting her handle Dean for the moment, but now that she’d gotten them both into her room, she wasn’t sure how to keep them there. She caught at Dean’s arm. “Stay,” she said. It was almost comical the way Dean stopped moving at her commanding tone, but he only paused for a second before pulling free of her.
“Dean,” Sam said, still without looking at either of them. “Don’t you get it? She invited us both.”
Dean’s eyes went wide as he took in his brother’s insinuating tone.
“He won’t stay,” Sam said. “He’s too scared. Thing you don’t know about Dean, Ellen, is that he’s kind of straight laced when you come right down to it. Isn’t that right, big brother?” Sam folded his arms and leaned over her shoulder, mocking his brother with a knowing smile. “Go, on, Dean.” He turned his back dismissively. “Chicken,” the word slid out of him softly. The look of outrage that pulled from Dean was almost pitiful; Sam knew so well how to play him.
“Come on, Dean,” Ellen intervened. “You know I don’t bite, and I promise I’ll make Sam behave. I bet you know how to cut loose and have a good time.”
“Damn right,” Dean said, but his posture was stiff and awkward when she bent his head down to kiss him. He shifted his feet as if he couldn’t completely quell the urge to retreat even as he kissed her back slow and sensuous, dipping his tongue into her mouth and tasting her.
Sam had come up behind her and now lifted her hair up and worked his mouth along the back of her neck as if he’d forgotten all about Dean, but his trembling lips belied his apparent ease. He pulled her around, shooting a look at Dean and kissing her roughly, breaking off abruptly and quirking an eyebrow at Dean as he spun her back to face him, as if she was a toy for them to scuffle over.
Dean didn’t answer the challenge. He was clearly way out of his comfort zone, close to freaking out but not willing to admit it. She put her hand over his cheek and kissed him again, still gentle, and when she took his hand and led him to the bed he followed her meekly. Sam moved with them, but she kept her body between them, trying to make it easier for Dean.
Sam pulled her up to the head of the bed, spooned up behind her and started nibbling on her neck again, one large hot palm caressing her stomach and running down over her upper thigh. She arched her back, pressing her neck tight against his mouth and rubbing her backside against his groin at the same time, feeling how hard he was through all the layers of their clothing. Dean sat on the edge of the bed uneasily as Sam’s hands went to the zipper of her jeans and opened them. He slid both hands down inside her underwear and stroked her firmly, making her moan and buck her hips up against him.
Dean licked his lips, watching intently as Sam slipped her jeans and underwear down almost to her knees, spread her thighs and dipped one finger inside of her. “Dean,” Sam said, gesturing toward her clothing and Dean finally moved, grabbing and pulling her things the rest of the way off. Sam spread her thighs even wider, offering her body up to Dean. “Want to see your mouth on her, Dean,” the words rumbled against her shoulder and Dean seemed to take it as an order, bent down and licked at her eagerly, teasing her with tongue and lips, as Sam stroked her thighs further apart for him. She had to push Sam’s hand from her shoulder as his biting went too hard. “Sorry,” he said breathlessly.
Dean sat up and started undressing, and Sam shifted her around to get his own mouth onto her, laying his claim down over Dean’s. She pushed him away and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. He leaned back, letting her undress him, his eyes following Dean, who had stood up to finish taking his own clothing off, and was hovering over them, looking uncertain and heartbreakingly beautiful. He settled himself behind her, slipping his hands about her waist and laying soothing kisses across her neck where Sam had bitten.
Finally they were all naked, and Sam shifted them around according to some inner vision he apparently had, getting an unresisting Dean on his back and putting her over him. “You want to do it like this again?” she asked Dean, and he nodded, looking relieved to have her back between himself and Sam. She lowered herself onto his cock, thick strands of her own juices spilling down onto his thighs and making everything slick and easy.
Sam’s chest was against her back, one hand pressed to her abdomen between her body and Dean’s, and he pushed down, brushed over her clit and lower, tracing her opening and making Dean gasp. He was pressing under Dean’s cock, pushing him up into her and Dean thrust roughly, his breath loud by her ear. They both smelled of the cool cocoa butter from the body wash and shampoo she’d stocked the bathrooms with; she’d chosen it to mark the people she cared for here, her people. The scent surrounded her, blurring the edges of the two men, connecting them around her.
Sam pulled his hand free and grabbed both her hips, his fingers tight. “Gonna do you like this, Ellen. From behind. Like you said.”
“Yeah, like that, Sam,” she answered, though she didn’t see how he could fit his huge cock in with Dean’s. The angle was awkward, and after fumbling for a bit, he grabbed Dean and slid them both down the bed so that their legs hung off the bottom and he could get positioned to enter her. His cock finally made it to the right place and he started to push up under Dean’s cock. The fullness was just on the edge of painful, and Ellen dropped her head to Dean’s shoulder, sweat slick under her forehead. Dean lost his cool when their cocks came together, his wild thrusts into her causing Sam’s cock to slip back out. Dean drew in a ragged breath and stopped moving, though he couldn’t still the harsh gasps rasping out of his throat or the heaving of his chest against her. He reached his hands across and grabbed onto Sam, pulling Sam tight against her.
Sam was looking past her at Dean, and she could feel some kind of non verbal signal passing between them like an electrical shock before they started moving in tandem, one pressing into her as the other pulled almost all the way out. The feeling of them all around and inside her was incredible, she could barely move at all but it wasn’t necessary, they were doing all the work for her. Wave and after wave of sensation passed through her building up toward a powerful climax, but Dean was ahead of her. He came still pressed tight against her and Sam waited through it, then picked up his own pace when Dean drew back sated. Sam’s hand squeezed in between them pressed down on her again, sending her over the edge, and going right over with her. Dean’s hands ran freely over both of them as they came together.
Ellen could feel their hammering heartbeats slow practically in unison, their chests heaving for breath against her cheek and back. She buried her face in Dean’s neck for a moment before moving off him, cuddling to one side as Sam slid into place opposite her.
“You boys can’t afford to be fighting each other any more,” she said, when her breathing had evened out enough to speak.
“Yes,” Sam answered. He looked to Dean for agreement, but Dean was looking at Ellen, seeking something from her, permission or absolution that wasn’t hers to give.
Whatever he saw on her face seemed to satisfy him, and he cleared his throat, eyes turning back to seek out his brother’s, and said a simple “yes.”
Sam leaned over and brushed his lips to Dean’s throat before taking his mouth. Dean’s hand tightened on hers, trembling slightly, still uncertain, as Sam kissed him with aching tenderness.
“I couldn’t stand the thought of you being with him,” Sam said, but Dean turned his head aside abruptly, rejecting that.
“Okay,” Sam said. He took a breath, looked like he wanted to say more, apologize or reassure, but Dean kept his head turned away, and finally Sam lay back down, throwing one long arm across them both and pulling them close.