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Dean ran his fingers almost sensually over the puffy outlines of the scar on his forearm.
He’d developed a kind of love-hate relationship with the Mark, terrified of what it might do to him, yet finding himself unable to resist its pull.
And it DID have a pull, he could feel the tendrils snaking out from it to curl around his heart, mind, and bones, urging him to surrender to the dark pleasures of demon-hood where there was no conscience or humanity to stay his hand. Just raw power and invincibility.
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Dean had seen enough evil not to underestimate its attractiveness nor how easily one could give in to it.
He completely understood his brother’s relationship with the demon blood now, of how you could take on something with the best of intentions only for it to backfire on you.
Sam had truly believed he was drinking the blood for a worthy cause, to make him strong enough to kill Lilith and take his revenge on her for dragging his big brother to Hell, while Dean had taken on the Mark in order to defeat Abaddon.
But just as Sam had finished up freeing Lucifer, only God knew what endgame the Mark of Cain had in store for Dean.
If he was honest, Dean had to admit Sam had dealt with his addiction much better than he was dealing with Mark.
Even when he was juiced up to the eyeballs with the bitch’s blood, Sam had never tried to kill him; on the contrary, he’d saved his ass more than once, especially when Castiel had failed to protect him from Alastair, and it was only thanks to Sam’s powers that Dean hadn’t been torn to shreds by the demon.
Instead, he who had always sworn to protect his little brother had instantly given in to the seduction of the Mark, living it up with Crowley for months, and when finally confronted by his worried sibling, had tried to kill Sam.
Even now, the Mark was whispering beneath his skin, tempting him with the rewards that killing his little brother would bring.
No drug could ever deliver the rush that slicing Sam’s throat would, it assured him; the blood of his brother spurting over him, freeing him from his bond to the one person whose love could ground him, allowing him to embrace his demonic nature, to be what the Mark wanted him to be.
Dean was still stroking the raised scar when the door opened and Sam’s bulk filled the entrance.
“You okay, Dean?” he asked, his eyes going to his brother’s bare arm where the Mark seemed to glint back at him malevolently.
Sam couldn’t stop the shiver that raced down his spine. The damn thing seemed to have a life of its own and somehow Dean‘s fingers caressing it had a touch of the obscene.
Dean didn’t answer right away, and Sam took a step forward.
“Dean!” he repeated more forcefully.
This time Dean looked up, shaking his head slightly as if emerging from a trance.
“Sammy….?”
“Were you expecting someone else, dude?" Sam grinned, trying to lighten the moment.
Dean’s mind had been miles away and Sam was certain Mark was the cause.
Sam understood. He’d been through it himself, and that experience with Ruby gave him the strength he needed to look out for Dean now.
Dean glanced down at his hand, then drew it back from the scar with a jolt.
He lifted his eyes to his brother and without a word being exchanged let Sam know how terrified he was that he might not be able to control the Mark; that he might be overwhelmed by the delights it was promising him; that he might kill his little brother, the only person who held his heart.
Sam sat down beside him on the bed.
“No, you won’t, Dean. It’s not gonna happen, you’re stronger than that. We're stronger than that!”
“I dunno, Sammy. What if I’m not? What if I…..”
Sam huffed and slapped a hand on Dean’s thigh. ” You ARE stronger. We’ll get through this, just like we always do. I’ll be here for you all the way.”
Dean gave Mark one more doubtful glance before rolling down his sleeve and hiding it from view.
“If I could go back, I'd never take it on, Sammy. We could've found some other way to kill Abaddon, “ Dean said ruefully.
“Yeah,” Sam snorted. “And if I could go back, I’d never have let Ruby trick me, but I can’t; neither of us can. We gotta deal with the here and now and we WILL,” Sam declared forcefully.
Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's certainty. Usually, he was the one bolstering up his emo little brother. This time the shoe was on the other foot.
He glanced down at Sam’s hand still firm on his thigh, and perhaps for the first time he was fully conscious of the feelings that simple action transmitted--- sensations of…. fulfillment…. comfort….well-being.
When he and Sam touched, it was like a circuit completing itself..
As if in revelation, he looked up and met Sam’s eyes. Sam didn’t flinch and Dean understood it went both ways.
He and Sam had been touchy-feely all their lives. Dean had always put it down to the adrenaline highs and lows of the hunt that caused them to reach out-- to grip, manhandle, and fist each other’s clothes, but maybe there had been more to it.
All of a sudden he wondered how it would feel to get even closer, to be surrounded by Sam, to be part of Sam. Would those feelings be even stronger, more fulfilling?
Propelled by a force that whispered how delectable Sam’s lips looked, and how sweet they’d be to taste, Dean moved forward, his face almost brushing Sam’s.
When his brother didn’t move or draw back, Dean cupped the side of Sam’s face with his hand and placed his lips on his.
Sam’s lips were every bit as soft and sweet as his mind had been insinuating, and the comfort he usually felt at his brother’s touch was multiplied a hundred-fold.
Kissing Sam felt so right, so damn wonderful that he wondered why he’d waited until now.
Sam gave an uncharacteristic growl, opened his mouth, and let Dean in, the hand on Dean’s thigh coming up to push his big brother down onto the bed.
Sam rolled on top of him, pinning him, their bodies molding perfectly together, the knowledge rushing through their veins that this was what they were, whatever that might be. Brothers, lovers, sinners, saints.
The craving to be as close as they could overwhelmed them, blending with the sexual arousal that flared up as their lips and tongues moaned and ground together, finally unleashing the need for each other that had been there from their birth.
In one lucid moment, before the sensations of Sam’s hands on his bare skin engulfed him once more, Dean wondered. If he and Sam had been raised ‘normal’, would it still have come to this?
But then he let the desire for his brother push away any such mundane thoughts and he gave himself over to the need for Sam, of his cock in Sam’s mouth, of his brother’s fingers cool with lube, of Sam entering and joining them together in one body, one soul.
They had crossed a line, no longer just brothers but more… so much more.
As they came together in orgasm, Dean understood that the Mark could never compete with this. It would never prevail.
He and Sam were bound, for better or for worse, and as Sam curled his sweat-covered body around him, Dean had never felt so invincible.
The End