Author: darkhavens
Title: Malleable Somnolence
Fandom: Pairing: Supernatural: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Words: 677
Spoilers: References to Dean's deal
Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com. If you spot a typo, please feel free to tell me in comments.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: He'll have plenty of time to sleep - after.
Notes: Written for
mini_wrimo day 19, and for prompt #1 Finger in my Supernatural Big Damn Table.He can't sleep. Hasn't been able to since Dean admitted to making his stupid goddamn deal with that demon bitch. How's he supposed to sleep when he'll lose everything he has left that matters to him in two hundred and thirty seven days and counting?
Two hundred and thirty seven days, and he's supposed to spend a third of that asleep? Miss seventy nine days - over eleven weeks - of seeing Dean alive? Well screw that. He's got by on very little sleep before - those first few weeks after leaving, when every time he closed his eyes he'd seen some new evil thing wipe his family out while he was too far away to run and save them. He'd got by, surviving on caffeine, refined sugar and sheer determination. He can do it again.
He'll have plenty of time to sleep - after.
A lot of lonely, silent hours were piling up behind that 'after'. He's sure he'll spend a fair few of them asleep, in denial, and dreaming of what he's let slip through his fingers, but for now he'll keep his eyes wide open. Open, and focussed on the man in bed beside him.
He spends hours watching Dean now, just lying on his side, head propped on one hand, elbow planted in the center of his under-used pillow.
He watches Dean sleep. Watches him dream. Watches him breathe, and twitch and live another precious, finite moment.
Watches the tip of Dean's tongue as it slides out and across, painting his lips with a faint sheen of moisture before retreating.
Sam sighs. Okay, so maybe he'll do more than watch. What the hell, he's always been more of a tactile guy anyway.
One finger. Just one. They've been sharing a bed again now for a while, so it's not like he doesn't ever touch Dean while he's sleeping. It's not so different really, touching him with intent instead of the casual nudge and shift of sleeping bodies. That's what he tells himself.
Dean's full lower lip is crying out to be bitten but Sam's been fighting that urge for quite a while now, he's used to resisting temptation. Instead, he traces the curve and bow of that mouth with one solitary finger, a hair's breadth away from actual contact.
It's not enough.
Dean's tongue returns to make another absent, glistening swipe, and bathes lips and fingertip alike in momentary heat and lingering dampness.
Sam's heart almost beats its way bloodily out of his chest when Dean parts his lips and closes them tight around his hovering finger, teeth gentle as his tongue paints intricate patterns up to Sam's first knuckle.
Any vague ideas Sam might have about Dean somehow remaining asleep are blown away when his brother's lashes flutter and lift to reveal pupils already half-blown with arousal.
With one last strong, knee-melting suck on Sam's finger, Dean lets it slip free and rolls to pin Sam to the bed with hips, knees and forearms. He nuzzles his head into the angle of Sam's jaw and neck and pushes his nose into the hollow beneath his ear. And whispers hot and dirty into his skin.
"If I have to fuck you into the middle of next week, you're going to get some sleep tonight."
When Sam opens his mouth to argue, to deny, Dean forestalls him, teeth gripping the prominent tendon in his neck, giving a threatening shake before he licks and lets go.
"You have to get some sleep, Sammy, or you're going to kill us both. I promise I'll still be here when you wake up in the morning."
The heat of Dean's sleep-warmed body seeps into Sam's tense frame, relaxing him by increments too minute to quantify. He trails paradoxical touches from Sam's shoulder to his hip, over and over again - touches erotically charged and yet ultimately soothing, settling Sam's nerves and fears, easing him down into a malleable somnolence.
"I'll still be here, I promise."
Sam clings tightly to the promise, and tighter to Dean. And he sleeps.
mini_nanowrimo running total: 9060 words, in 19 days