Tag: my jam

holdmesamthatwasbeautiful:

Little Sammy’s only fourteen, but the way his big
brother falls apart for him makes him feel like he has eons after eons of ancient
power; all it takes is a little sweep of his sooty eyelashes from beneath his
dark bangs and Dean is worshipping him; treats him like a prince, like a king.

*

Dean whispers stories into his ear as he fucks him
through the dark nights: stories of the boy who would be king, stories of power
and glory and violence, and when Sam wakes up he’s exhilarated and sore and thrumming with something undefinable; he
feels something rise inside of him.

*

Sam claws at Dean’s back when he comes, and he’s
shaking when he whispers against Dean’s damp throat: “Tell me the story again.
About the boy.”

Dean’s eyes are almost black in the night, wide and
proud. “No baby boy,” he tells Sam in a voice that has so many layers it
makes Sam go dizzy. “You’ll tell it yourself. Soon.”

Sam falls asleep in Dean’s protective arms. He dreams
of fire and echoes, and of Dean: strong and black-eyed, kneeling by a throne.