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lunabee34Title: Trifurcated
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Sam/Dean/Ruby
Word Count: 1598
This fic begins pretty much the second the screen goes dark at the end of "Jus in Bello."
"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out," Dean mutters under his breath and starts tossing gear into his duffel. "Come on, Sammy," he says a little louder. "We can't stay here now. Not with Lilith so close."
Sam hunches over for another good minute, staring at the worn patch of carpet between his boots, and then finally he moves. He doesn't look at Dean as he packs and Dean can't tell what his brother is thinking at all. That uncertainty makes Dean’s skin crawl, makes his chest hollow and his throat tight. Sometimes Dean desperately wants to remember the Tuesday that didn’t happen and other times he’s glad he’ll never have to know what put this darkness in his brother’s eyes.
Dean drives for two hundred miles before he stops. Sam is asleep, head thrown back, legs sprawled and one knee poking into Dean's thigh. Dean lets the car idle and watches Sam sleep, watches Sam's eyelashes curl darkly against his cheeks, watches his chest rise and fall with each breath. After a bit, he squeezes Sam's knee, the bones sharp in his palm, and Sam wakes like a cat, warm and loose under Dean's fingers. Dean clears his throat and puts both hands back on the wheel. "Let's eat," he says.
Sam is mostly quiet during dinner, but he stretches his legs out in the tiny booth so that he’s touching Dean at the calf, at the ankle. He gets Dean’s attention with a tap on the forearm, claps his shoulder when Dean actually makes him laugh, and passes the Tabasco with fingers that brush accidentally against Dean’s wrist on the handoff. Dean can’t ever remember Sam touching him this much before the time loop, but he isn’t about to complain.
That night, Dean shifts restlessly on scratchy motel sheets and listens to Sam snore. He can’t stop thinking about Nancy, about Sam’s willingness to carve the heart from her chest to save them all, to save Dean. He sees Nancy’s face when he closes his eyes—the grim line of her mouth, the visible and frantic flutter of the pulse in her neck—and wonders what the hell happened to his baby brother to make him agree to that kind of sacrifice. Dean doesn't think he'll sleep, but he must because the next thing he knows, someone is beating on the door and he's startled awake, already rolling off the bed, already gripping his knife by the hilt.
Dean opens the door and Ruby shoulders past. "This isn't working for me," she says.
"What?" Sam says. "What's not working?" His voice is sleep thick as he yawns and thumbs at the corners of his eyes.
"Your issues are getting in the way of my mission." She crosses her arms and glares at them both, and Dean forces himself not to take a step backwards. He'd never admit it, especially to Sam, but Ruby creeps him out when she's pissed. She's like a category five hurricane packed down tight into five feet of girl. "You," Ruby says, pointing at Sam, "you're still stuck in that endless cycle of reruns. What you've become, what you want, what you're willing to do—you scare yourself. And you," she says, jabbing a finger into Dean's sternum, "you give yourself over to the Pit just a little more each day. You say you want to live but you're dying by degrees." Ruby sits on the edge of Sam's bed and suddenly she looks very small and very tired and very lost. "I need you both sharp and focused or this will all be over before it starts."
“Thanks for the newsflash, Dr. Phil. We done here?” Dean says, opening the door and flicking the knife out towards the highway.
Ruby doesn’t say anything, just turns and lays her hand flat on Sam’s chest, right over his tattoo, right over his heart. Her fingers stretch nearly to his collarbone and the streetlights through the open door make strange shadows on Sam’s torso, on Ruby’s wrist where her jacket sleeve rides up. Dean waits for Sam to push her away, but he doesn’t, so Dean closes the door and leans back over the peephole, watching.
Ruby moves closer until her lips are a breath away from Sam’s neck; she whispers into Sam’s skin but Dean hears her clearly. “You want proof that he’s alive, that you didn’t spend all those months alone. You should take what you want.”
“It’s not that simple, Ruby,” Sam says and his voice sounds so sad, so resigned.
Dean can’t follow the conversation; he has no clue what Ruby means and he’s mad as hell that some demon knows more about what’s going on with his brother than he does. Dean opens his mouth to speak and swallows the words when Ruby crawls into Sam’s lap.
“Do you think you invented sin, Sam Winchester?” Ruby says, and then she kisses him, her other hand sliding into his hair. Sam puts his arms around her and Dean can hardly breathe watching his brother’s big hands clutch Ruby’s back, his mouth grind against hers. Ruby pulls away with a wet sound and says, “Don’t you wish this wasn’t me?”
Sam looks at Dean then, and the expression on his face—pupils blown wide, lips already kiss-swollen—goes straight to Dean’s cock. Dean is dimly aware that his knife hits the carpet with a dull thud, that he stumbles across the ten steps to Sam’s bed, that Ruby smirks up at him from under the pale curtain of her hair. Sam reaches out and yanks him down beside them both and Dean’s right hand fists in Ruby’s jacket; his left settles at the waistband of Sam’s boxers.
Dean sits like that, frozen, until Ruby rolls her eyes and kisses him, her hot little tongue sliding against his, her sharp teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Dean’s hand tightens around Sam’s hip in response. “This is about taking what you want,” Ruby says into Dean’s mouth.
“And just what do you want, Ruby?” Dean says raggedly.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Even though he knows what’s coming, Dean is somehow still surprised when Sam cups his jaw tenderly, when he licks into Dean’s mouth, hungry and possessive. The entire world shifts a few degrees to the left and Dean gives himself over completely to Sam, to his brother’s hands and his mouth.
Ruby squirms between them, shucking her jacket and her shirt, and Sam pulls away from Dean to bury his face in her breasts, to suck at her pink nipples until they’re hard and red. Dean licks down Ruby’s neck, leaving marks with his teeth on her shoulders; Ruby makes a strangled noise and presses back against Dean’s crotch.
Somehow, Ruby gets them all naked and Dean loses himself in sensation—Sam’s cock rubbing a wet trail on Dean’s thigh, Ruby’s clever tongue in his ear, the sweet heat of her pussy clenching around his fingers. After she comes the first time Ruby takes Dean’s hand from between her legs and puts it on Sam’s dick. They stroke Sam together, her hand guiding his, both of them watching the head of Sam’s cock slide slick and messy through their joined fingers. Sam’s breath speeds up, his face tensing with desire, but Ruby makes Dean stop before Sam can come.
Ruby stretches back on the bed and spreads herself wide and Dean lifts her thighs up on his shoulders and licks her cunt until she’s moaning and shuddering and begging him not to stop. He works the hard little nub of her clit with his tongue, with the soft underside of his lip; he sucks her labia into his mouth and pulls gently, moving back to her clit when Sam slips two fingers inside. Dean licks long stripes down Ruby’s pussy and over his brother’s knuckles, tasting the salt of them both. Ruby doesn’t last long. She throws back her head and her eyes turn black and losing control like that is the hottest, most disturbing thing Dean’s ever seen a chick do.
“What do you want, Dean?” Ruby says when she can speak again.
“I want to fuck you,” he says. “I want you to blow Sam while I fuck you.” And it isn’t what Dean wants most, not exactly, but it’s a start.
Ruby pushes up on all fours and Dean gets a condom out of his duffel and rolls it down his cock. Sinking into that tightness, watching Sam fuck Ruby’s face while he’s fucking her pussy—it’s all so overwhelming and intense and Dean comes much sooner than he’d like. He lets his cock soften inside Ruby, transfixed by the sight of her mouth stretched wide around Sam’s dick. Dean reaches out a trembling finger, trails it behind Ruby’s lips, and Sam says Dean’s name when he comes.
Ruby dresses quickly like she’s got somewhere to be, and she doesn’t make the smartass speech Dean was expecting. She just kisses them both on the cheek and says, “This is living, boys. Don’t screw it up.”
Once she’s gone, Sam slings an arm around Dean and drags him back down on the bed. Dean thinks Sam will want to talk this thing to death or maybe even freak out a little, but he doesn’t. He just pulls the comforter up over them both and cuts out the light. Dean falls asleep with Sam’s cold feet tucked between his, with Sam’s pulse beating out the time underneath his hand.
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Sam/Dean/Ruby
Word Count: 1598
This fic begins pretty much the second the screen goes dark at the end of "Jus in Bello."
"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out," Dean mutters under his breath and starts tossing gear into his duffel. "Come on, Sammy," he says a little louder. "We can't stay here now. Not with Lilith so close."
Sam hunches over for another good minute, staring at the worn patch of carpet between his boots, and then finally he moves. He doesn't look at Dean as he packs and Dean can't tell what his brother is thinking at all. That uncertainty makes Dean’s skin crawl, makes his chest hollow and his throat tight. Sometimes Dean desperately wants to remember the Tuesday that didn’t happen and other times he’s glad he’ll never have to know what put this darkness in his brother’s eyes.
Dean drives for two hundred miles before he stops. Sam is asleep, head thrown back, legs sprawled and one knee poking into Dean's thigh. Dean lets the car idle and watches Sam sleep, watches Sam's eyelashes curl darkly against his cheeks, watches his chest rise and fall with each breath. After a bit, he squeezes Sam's knee, the bones sharp in his palm, and Sam wakes like a cat, warm and loose under Dean's fingers. Dean clears his throat and puts both hands back on the wheel. "Let's eat," he says.
Sam is mostly quiet during dinner, but he stretches his legs out in the tiny booth so that he’s touching Dean at the calf, at the ankle. He gets Dean’s attention with a tap on the forearm, claps his shoulder when Dean actually makes him laugh, and passes the Tabasco with fingers that brush accidentally against Dean’s wrist on the handoff. Dean can’t ever remember Sam touching him this much before the time loop, but he isn’t about to complain.
That night, Dean shifts restlessly on scratchy motel sheets and listens to Sam snore. He can’t stop thinking about Nancy, about Sam’s willingness to carve the heart from her chest to save them all, to save Dean. He sees Nancy’s face when he closes his eyes—the grim line of her mouth, the visible and frantic flutter of the pulse in her neck—and wonders what the hell happened to his baby brother to make him agree to that kind of sacrifice. Dean doesn't think he'll sleep, but he must because the next thing he knows, someone is beating on the door and he's startled awake, already rolling off the bed, already gripping his knife by the hilt.
Dean opens the door and Ruby shoulders past. "This isn't working for me," she says.
"What?" Sam says. "What's not working?" His voice is sleep thick as he yawns and thumbs at the corners of his eyes.
"Your issues are getting in the way of my mission." She crosses her arms and glares at them both, and Dean forces himself not to take a step backwards. He'd never admit it, especially to Sam, but Ruby creeps him out when she's pissed. She's like a category five hurricane packed down tight into five feet of girl. "You," Ruby says, pointing at Sam, "you're still stuck in that endless cycle of reruns. What you've become, what you want, what you're willing to do—you scare yourself. And you," she says, jabbing a finger into Dean's sternum, "you give yourself over to the Pit just a little more each day. You say you want to live but you're dying by degrees." Ruby sits on the edge of Sam's bed and suddenly she looks very small and very tired and very lost. "I need you both sharp and focused or this will all be over before it starts."
“Thanks for the newsflash, Dr. Phil. We done here?” Dean says, opening the door and flicking the knife out towards the highway.
Ruby doesn’t say anything, just turns and lays her hand flat on Sam’s chest, right over his tattoo, right over his heart. Her fingers stretch nearly to his collarbone and the streetlights through the open door make strange shadows on Sam’s torso, on Ruby’s wrist where her jacket sleeve rides up. Dean waits for Sam to push her away, but he doesn’t, so Dean closes the door and leans back over the peephole, watching.
Ruby moves closer until her lips are a breath away from Sam’s neck; she whispers into Sam’s skin but Dean hears her clearly. “You want proof that he’s alive, that you didn’t spend all those months alone. You should take what you want.”
“It’s not that simple, Ruby,” Sam says and his voice sounds so sad, so resigned.
Dean can’t follow the conversation; he has no clue what Ruby means and he’s mad as hell that some demon knows more about what’s going on with his brother than he does. Dean opens his mouth to speak and swallows the words when Ruby crawls into Sam’s lap.
“Do you think you invented sin, Sam Winchester?” Ruby says, and then she kisses him, her other hand sliding into his hair. Sam puts his arms around her and Dean can hardly breathe watching his brother’s big hands clutch Ruby’s back, his mouth grind against hers. Ruby pulls away with a wet sound and says, “Don’t you wish this wasn’t me?”
Sam looks at Dean then, and the expression on his face—pupils blown wide, lips already kiss-swollen—goes straight to Dean’s cock. Dean is dimly aware that his knife hits the carpet with a dull thud, that he stumbles across the ten steps to Sam’s bed, that Ruby smirks up at him from under the pale curtain of her hair. Sam reaches out and yanks him down beside them both and Dean’s right hand fists in Ruby’s jacket; his left settles at the waistband of Sam’s boxers.
Dean sits like that, frozen, until Ruby rolls her eyes and kisses him, her hot little tongue sliding against his, her sharp teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Dean’s hand tightens around Sam’s hip in response. “This is about taking what you want,” Ruby says into Dean’s mouth.
“And just what do you want, Ruby?” Dean says raggedly.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Even though he knows what’s coming, Dean is somehow still surprised when Sam cups his jaw tenderly, when he licks into Dean’s mouth, hungry and possessive. The entire world shifts a few degrees to the left and Dean gives himself over completely to Sam, to his brother’s hands and his mouth.
Ruby squirms between them, shucking her jacket and her shirt, and Sam pulls away from Dean to bury his face in her breasts, to suck at her pink nipples until they’re hard and red. Dean licks down Ruby’s neck, leaving marks with his teeth on her shoulders; Ruby makes a strangled noise and presses back against Dean’s crotch.
Somehow, Ruby gets them all naked and Dean loses himself in sensation—Sam’s cock rubbing a wet trail on Dean’s thigh, Ruby’s clever tongue in his ear, the sweet heat of her pussy clenching around his fingers. After she comes the first time Ruby takes Dean’s hand from between her legs and puts it on Sam’s dick. They stroke Sam together, her hand guiding his, both of them watching the head of Sam’s cock slide slick and messy through their joined fingers. Sam’s breath speeds up, his face tensing with desire, but Ruby makes Dean stop before Sam can come.
Ruby stretches back on the bed and spreads herself wide and Dean lifts her thighs up on his shoulders and licks her cunt until she’s moaning and shuddering and begging him not to stop. He works the hard little nub of her clit with his tongue, with the soft underside of his lip; he sucks her labia into his mouth and pulls gently, moving back to her clit when Sam slips two fingers inside. Dean licks long stripes down Ruby’s pussy and over his brother’s knuckles, tasting the salt of them both. Ruby doesn’t last long. She throws back her head and her eyes turn black and losing control like that is the hottest, most disturbing thing Dean’s ever seen a chick do.
“What do you want, Dean?” Ruby says when she can speak again.
“I want to fuck you,” he says. “I want you to blow Sam while I fuck you.” And it isn’t what Dean wants most, not exactly, but it’s a start.
Ruby pushes up on all fours and Dean gets a condom out of his duffel and rolls it down his cock. Sinking into that tightness, watching Sam fuck Ruby’s face while he’s fucking her pussy—it’s all so overwhelming and intense and Dean comes much sooner than he’d like. He lets his cock soften inside Ruby, transfixed by the sight of her mouth stretched wide around Sam’s dick. Dean reaches out a trembling finger, trails it behind Ruby’s lips, and Sam says Dean’s name when he comes.
Ruby dresses quickly like she’s got somewhere to be, and she doesn’t make the smartass speech Dean was expecting. She just kisses them both on the cheek and says, “This is living, boys. Don’t screw it up.”
Once she’s gone, Sam slings an arm around Dean and drags him back down on the bed. Dean thinks Sam will want to talk this thing to death or maybe even freak out a little, but he doesn’t. He just pulls the comforter up over them both and cuts out the light. Dean falls asleep with Sam’s cold feet tucked between his, with Sam’s pulse beating out the time underneath his hand.
