righteoushunter | there's slaughter in the air (for hunter

Getting through the funeral had to be the most unreal part of it all. He wasn't sure how to act, wasn't sure if he even really felt it yet or if he would. What he did feel was this sensation of being lost, not knowing what their next move should be. John Winchester had taught them everything he knew from the moment their house burned down right along with their mother.

He'd taught them how to fight, how to stay safe, and what to look for in a demon. Taught them how they weren't supposed to kill anyone who didn't fit the criteria... Dean was thankful for that everyday. he liked the strict rules. Wasn't sure where he'd be without them.

Whether Sam felt the same or not, he wasn't always sure, but this method worked. You didn't kill innocent people or you weren't any better than the things they hunted, plain and simple.

But none of that felt important right now.

Dean was on auto-pilot. He came home to the apartment he shared with Sam - having a permanent address and blending in with everyone normal as well as they could kept people off their backs - and he went to shower and change. It felt like he needed it.

When he came back out, clad in his boxers and a worn out old Metallica shirt, he found Sam on the couch and hesitated only a moment. Ugh, couldn't leave him there, alone. Dean had never been good at that. He still felt responsible for him, no matter how old he got.

"Hey, Sammy," he murmured as he settled beside him, shoulder to shoulder, eyes falling tot he floor. "You okay?"

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The best part? While Dean was breathless and writhing, he didn't see what Sam was doing, reaching beneath to work himself open. Dean had promised that he'd let Sam take charge - he just didn't mention exactly how, right?

"Love you Dean," he nipped at his thigh, tongue dragging along him with a slow groan. He was going to ride him until they both came undone, giving them back some sense of control after the events of the past week. "Just you an' me. Always."

"Love you too," he pants, arching up against Sam. He definitely was distracted, not paying attention to what Sam was doing beyond how that mouth was working over him, at the promises leaving his mouth. Just them. That's how he wants it. Just them against the world... it's how it's always been and should be.

Just the two of them. Taking out as many demons as they can until the end. The way it should be. Sam raised up, straddling his brother and impaling himself slowly on him with not nearly enough prep. But he's impatient tonight and the slow, delicious burn lit up his nerves and stole his breath away.

"Jesus, Sammy--" He gasped, eyes going wide as his eyes darted up to watch his brother, sinking down on him. Fuck--

It was a sight he'd never get sick of -- watching Sam sink down on to him, seeing how much he enjoyed it. There wasn't a doubt either that it was pleasure lighting up his face. He's watched Sam his whole life, can read him like the back of his hand.

"Feel so good," he murmurs, reaching out to rest his hands against Sam's hips, squeezing them gently.

there's slaughter in the air (for hunter_returns)

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