Part 10: Starving

Dean wouldn't have put it past his body to mutiny against him in that moment, diving forward to tackle Sasha in a fierce hug that more than likely would have turned into an even fiercer kiss right there in front of everyone. There was a good chance it would have happened just like that too if Sasha's aunt Shiarra hadn't blown right past Dean to embrace the incubus first.

There were soft, scolding words spoken that Dean couldn't quite hear, but he managed to catch something about 'recovery' and 'should be in bed' and suddenly Shiarra was leading Sasha back into the bedroom.

Time moved in strange, uncontrollable jumps after that and Dean thought maybe he was in some kind of shock. He was outside Sasha's room and then he was inside and so was everyone else, talking about how the reunion could wait until tomorrow since everyone—Sasha especially—needed sleep. Then Dean was outside the room again and Sasha's door was closed. Bobby was offering his own bedroom to Shiarra, saying he'd take the pullout upstairs, leaving Dean and Sam the couch or floor.

The next jump had Dean curled up in a sleeping bag below where Sam was lying on the downstairs couch. Dean remembered vaguely that he asked for the floor, not wanting to be restricted by couch ends the way Sam with his ungodly long legs probably would be. Sometimes Dean actually preferred a stiffer surface to sleep on, usually when he was just too restless, like tonight. Everything was so quiet and Dean didn't know how it had gotten that way so fast. He didn't think he could sleep but then his body had been going for over 36 hours straight and the next thing he knew time had jumped again. Dean woke up to sunlight streaming in through Bobby's living room windows, feeling maybe even more exhausted now that his body had tasted rest.

Tasted. God, Dean was hungry. His stomach felt completely hollow. After all, he hadn't really eaten anything since those ribs the night of Sasha's birthday.

Sasha. Had Sasha eaten anything? He had woken up hungry last night, hadn't he? Of course he had, and they had just pushed him back to bed without so much as a cracker. Suddenly, it seemed more important than anything to make sure Sasha got something to eat. It was one of the few concrete things Dean could do for his friend.

The coffee table had been pushed over to give Dean more room on the floor, but Dean thought he remembered setting his watch up there. As he rolled over to reach for it he was understandably surprised when his hand came down on soft flesh instead of wood. Dean tried to focus his tired eyes on what was now in front of him, and what he saw was sparkling blue and a large mischievous smile.

"Hey," Sasha whispered, just lying there on the floor next to Dean's sleeping bag.

Deep down Dean remembered—knew—Sasha was alive, that everything was okay now, but the last two days had become such a blur, filled with time jumps. It made all the difference just to see Sasha there and feel Sasha's warm shoulder beneath his hand. He prayed to that god he didn't believe in that he wasn't dreaming. Don't let this be a dream. Not this time.

Dean had gone over so many things he wanted to say to Sasha while Sam was driving them across the country towards Bobby's. 'I don't think I can live without you, idiot, so don't do that to me again' was definitely on the list. But as Dean looked into those beautiful open blue eyes he couldn't remember a single one of his rehearsed lines.

"What are you doing?" he said instead, his voice a whisper just like Sasha's even though that much sunlight pouring in had to mean it was at least midday.

Sasha's grin widened. He was so close Dean could have counted teeth. "Trying to give you a good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Sasha said, "You wrecked my wake up kiss, by the way."

That should have been cute. That should have been funny. But Dean was only half listening. Concern had risen up within him, wrapped in over-protectiveness, and Dean suddenly grabbed onto both of Sasha's shoulders. "You should be resting," he said, louder now and borderline scolding if not outright desperate, "Have you eaten anything? How are you feeling?" Apparently some time during the night Dean had turned into Sam.

But Sasha just kept on smiling, bringing one hand up to rest over Dean's on his shoulder and the other to touch Dean's face. "I'm fine," Sasha insisted, and his voice and touch were so steady Dean sort of had to believe him.

Dean couldn't stop from being worried though, even as he tried to forget two days worth of panic so he could breathe and maybe even play along with Sasha's easy, familiar flirting. "Trying to…give me a good morning, huh?" Dean said, smiling perhaps a little crookedly.

"Yeah. How am I doing?"

Fucking incredible, Dean thought, but he chose a more subtle way of saying it as he moved his hands to the back of Sasha's neck and pulled the incubus closer, "As far as recent memory serves…this morning definitely beats yesterday's." Dean grinned, saw Sasha's close face grinning back at him, and just wanted to taste again. There was no room for fear or reservations in bliss like this.

Sasha was alive. Sasha was okay. It's all Dean needed to know.

There was a rustling noise and something like a cough from above and behind Dean, and it made him pause before his lips could brush against Sasha's. Peeking back over his shoulder, Dean remembered that his brother was up sleeping on the couch seconds before seeing Sam's amused hazel eyes and growing blush. So much for a little impromptu private time.

Sam cleared his throat again and formed an embarrassed smile. "Err…just pretend I'm not here," he said, rolling over to face the inside of the couch, though his mused longer hair still stuck out in funny places from out of the blankets.

Yeah. Coz Dean could just do that. Right. Pushing up into a sitting position, Dean huffed, remembering how tired he was and how that was probably why he wasn't thinking as clearly as usual.

Of course Sasha was disappointed, and sat up next to Dean saying, "I can pretend he's not there," with a smile clear in every word.

Dean turned back to Sasha with a ready comeback. At least he thought it was ready. It fell from his tongue after a first true look at Sasha's body. The incubus was shirtless and barefoot, which wouldn't have been at all remarkable if not for the very large and loose sleep pants. They looked comfortable and had a drawstring, but it was the pattern that made Dean pause.

Tiger print. Actual tiger print with black and orange stripes that clashed horribly with Sasha's red hair.

Dean felt an uncontrollable chuckle rising. "What are you wearing?" he choked out.

Blue eyes glanced down to where Dean was staring and Sasha's cheeks flushed much like Sam's had. "Uhh…"

"Are those zubaz?"

"They're Bobby's!" Sasha defended. He whirled on Dean then, pointing an accusing finger, "You left all our stuff in the car. And I wanted a shower when I woke up. My choices for something comfortable to wear were these or the same pair in purple, okay?"

Dean was already halfway into a full out guffaw before Sasha finished his first sentence. It felt so good to laugh, so strange too because of how easily it left his lips. "Dude, at least purple would match that hair better." As he said that Dean brought a hand up to his own hair to scratch his head. He immediately grimaced. Greasy was an understatement for how Dean felt right now. "Did you say shower? Coz that sounds awesome."

Climbing out of his sleeping bag and onto his feet, Dean arched his back in a great stretch. Oh yeah, he felt gross. And achy. And tired. At least the wound on his leg wasn't throbbing anymore, but Dean hated sleeping in dirty clothes. A glance down told him he was still wearing the same T-shirt and shorts he had on during Sasha's birthday. Laundry time didn't come often or easy for hunters, but Dean had a deep desire to strip and hose himself down anyway.

Sasha stood up next to Dean and when Dean looked over to once again take in the comforting sight of his friend—alive, Sasha was alive—his eyes went straight to the waistline of those pants. Sasha always wore his jeans a little low, but the zubaz were hanging down so far they bordered on being pornographic. There was a lot of visible tattoo.

A strangled cough left Dean's throat. "You better tighten the strings on those pants, man, or…I think you're gonna lose 'em," he said, pulling his eyes with some difficulty back up to Sasha's face.

"Oh?" Sasha grinned, stepping onto Dean's rumpled sleeping bag to bring their bodies closer together, "You say that, but the look on your face tells me you're just wishing that's what would happen."

Dean blanched as Sasha teased his fingers around the drawstring of those loose fitting pants. The incubus was obviously feeling better.

When a barely contained snort rose up from the couch, Dean came back to his senses and remembered Sam again. It was almost entirely out of principle that Dean reached down to pick up his pillow, smacked it hard on top of Sam's head and left it there.

But before Dean could walk away, Sasha was sidling up to him, getting in Dean's personal space and pulling Dean closer by the hips. "Shower. Change. Whatever you need to do. But I'm taking that good morning kiss, Dean. Because I'm still here to take it." Clearly, a near death experience had made Sasha even more bold than usual.

Dean didn't mind giving in either, not today, but he still had to grin and say, "You know, I haven't brushed my teeth in…" Dean trailed, honestly stopping to think about that and coming up blank, "I…really can't remember." Eww.

Sasha just laughed. "I think I can bear it," he said.

It was the last thing Dean wanted to think about as they leaned in towards each other—the last time they kissed, their last kiss—but his mind couldn't help going right back to that moment as their lips pressed together. Somewhere in the back of Dean's throat a sob tried to break out. Like hell he'd allow that. He wasn't weak. And he wasn't afraid anymore either. He didn't have time to be afraid.

Slipping his hands onto Sasha's hips the way Sasha's were on his, Dean found even more reason to be grateful for how low Sasha's pants were riding. All he touched was skin, real, alive, warm skin, and it made everything better. Things would get better. Dean would be able to move on this time and forget about almost losing Sasha, because it had been an almost. Sasha was here with him right now, and this time it hadn't cost him anything but heartache.

Dean flicked his tongue along Sasha's lips and pressed further forward. Maybe it wasn't so hard after all, pretending Sam wasn't there. Served the kid right too. Besides, it wasn't as if Sam didn't know about them now.

"Hey, Sam! Dean!"

Bobby on the other hand…

"You boys up ye—!" Bobby's voice cut off abruptly, close and loud enough that Dean knew the elder hunter had to be standing at the mouth of the living room.

Instinct had Dean harshly pushing Sasha away in a second, like he used to when Sasha started getting a little too frisky during their stolen kisses. But this was different. This was old panic, foolish, and Dean didn't miss the slightly hurt expression on Sasha's face before he turned to look at Bobby.

"Erm…" Bobby was clearly thrown by what he had walked in on, eyes wide and mouth fumbling for words, "So…you're up then. Awake! I mean. Right. Breakfast is getting cold so…yeah. Best get a move on." Then Bobby made a quick turn around and headed back out the doorway.

"Bobby!" Dean called, feeling like a complete idiot, "Wait! Listen, we—!"

"I don't need to know!" replied Bobby's now disembodied voice.

Great. Coz that was just how Dean wanted that discovery to go down. He wiped a hand over his face and peeked at Sasha, who at least looked more amused now than upset. Dean hadn't meant to react that way. But it was Bobby. It was almost as bad as having their dad walk in on them. Almost.

Dean really didn't want to think about how much more difficult this would be if his dad were still alive. Not that he wouldn't take John Winchester back into his life in a second, because he would, and he was pretty sure John would like Sasha since disliking the incubus didn't seem possible. It was the 'he's dating your son' part that Dean didn't think his ex-Marine father would be too keen on.

Wait. Dating. Oh god. Had Dean actually just thought that?

"I'm taking a shower," Dean said, slumping off towards the downstairs bathroom. Since there was highly inappropriate and loud giggling coming from beneath the pillow covered head on the couch, Dean gave it a good bop as he passed. "Save me some food, okay?" he called back to Sasha.

The redhead was laughing by now too, but he nodded when Dean glanced back, wearing a satisfied smile that made Dean feel at least a little better again. He almost didn't want to leave the room, because it would take Sasha out of his sight, and that meant this was all the more likely to be a dream that would evaporate if Dean looked away for too long. Dean remembered he had felt that way about Sam for weeks. He really didn't want to go through that again.

Shower. He could take a shower. He didn't need to spend every waking second with Sasha and ruin things by smothering the guy, much as he doubted that could happen. A shower would be good.

It was good too. At first. Warm water. Soap. Whatever Bobby tried to pass off as shampoo. No conditioner of course. Not that Dean needed any for his short locks, he had just grown so used to stealing Sam's. And sometimes Sasha's when they were all three in one room.

Dean realized too late that he would have to go out to the car and get his bag for his toothbrush and a change of clothes in nothing but a towel. There was no way in Hell he was getting put in one of Bobby's pairs of zubaz.

But five minutes into when the shower first started, steam rising and water running down Dean's face, it all started to catch up with him. It always happened like that, when he was alone in the shower, with no one nagging him to hurry up. He started thinking about things too hard, or maybe it was because he was trying so hard not to think at all. But those sobs he had been holding back suddenly found an opening, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the shower water down into the drain. He couldn't even keep his sobs quiet. They were loud and harsh, barely drowned out by the sound of the water running. Dean had to lean against the tile for a minute, take a few breaths, try to stop shaking. It didn't count as crying if he was in the shower, that's why the shower was one of the few places tears actually found a way out of him. The tears didn't leave any streaks. No one could prove they had ever been there. Dean should have known they would catch up with him as soon as he was alone.

But why? Everything was okay. It didn't matter if he had failed. Sasha was fine. The scar had been so faint on Sasha's chest, Dean almost hadn't noticed it. There was nothing to be upset over. Gordon was dead. Dean should be rejoicing. But he spent twenty minutes crying in the shower instead.

The bathroom was filled with steam when Dean finally had enough control over himself to step out. He had to wipe his hand over the mirror to see himself. He looked fine. Refreshed. No sign of tears or puffy eyes. His eyes…

For a split second Dean's reflection wasn't his own. It was…but it wasn't. His reflection smirked at him and green eyes flashed to full black. Dean slammed the flat of his palm against the wall beside the mirror and the illusion was gone. He was just imagining things.

No. You know the reality that waits for you, Dean. You're going to lose everything.

Everything.

Dean felt the same tears rise up in him again but he willed them back down. He had to tell Sasha about the demon deal. He didn't want to but he had to. He had to ruin their bliss, their beginning by telling Sasha the truth. If he waited any longer it would just get worse and worse. Dean would probably start to give himself away anyway. He was feeling the weight, the toll the deal was taking on him more and more everyday.

Tucking a towel tight around himself, Dean headed out to grab his things from the Impala, even if it was December in South Dakota. As soon as he got Sasha alone, he would tell the incubus about the deal. He had to.

Everyone was still in the kitchen when Dean finally joined them. Sasha remained dressed in those tiger-striped zubaz. Bobby looked about normal, though he had rid himself of his customary hat, presumably because he was in the company of a lady—Dean noticed Bobby's hair looked a little more combed than usual too. Shiarra had also obviously gotten up early enough to primp and change clothes. Today she was wearing a dress right out of a Macy's window display, plum purple and low cut.

When Dean took an open seat beside Sasha at the table, the incubus leaned over and whispered, "Those are Manolos," while gesturing towards Shiarra's heels as she busied herself at the coffee maker.

Dean gave the shoes a passing glance. Purple heels had no right to cost more than Dean's sexy as anything muscle car. No right at all. Dean thought it both seemed fitting and ironic that Sasha's aunt was so high class. It suited the succubus, but Sasha was just so down to earth. Sure, Sasha could probably pull off the metro look if he wanted, but he stuck to jeans and T-shirts. And his leather jacket.

Damn. Dean wondered if Sam had gotten around to filling Sasha in on that particularly difficult casualty.

A swift once over of the table had Dean suddenly wondering if he was in the wrong place. There were muffins, eggs, bacon. Then Dean caught a good look of Sam on the other side of the table and he realized his brother looked just as freshly showered as he was. It didn't seem possible since Dean had gone to get ready first.

Sam must have noticed Dean's stare because he immediately said, "What?" all defensive, and already knowing exactly what Dean was thinking, "There are two bathrooms in this place, you know."

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "but if the princess beats me at getting ready in the morning I must have really needed that shower." Dean smirked as Sam scowled, and then he reached for one of the remaining muffins.

Shiarra returned to the table with a brand new cup of coffee and placed it in front of Dean. "Black, I assume," she said, taking the last seat between Bobby and Sam.

Dean flicked his eyes up at her, not sure if he should expect the coffee to be poisoned or not. "Thanks," he said, since her look was gauging but mostly non-threatening. Dean looked over the spread on the table again. "You must have had something to do with this. I don't think I can ever remember Bobby cooking this good."

"Hey now," Bobby said warningly.

"It was a joint effort," Shiarra cut in with an actually rather warm smile cast on Bobby, "I do enjoy cooking. But if you think any amount of feminine charm means I couldn't punch a hole through your chest if I wanted…" Shiarra purposely trailed off, smiling over the top of her coffee mug as she took a drink. Dean had a pretty strong feeling it was black just like his.

He had to smirk back at Shiarra, he really did. He knew this game well. He certainly didn't mind playing it a little either so long as it meant she wouldn't be yelling at him anymore. Dean leaned over and nudged Sasha with his arm. "She's a regular hoot and a half, this woman," he said, "Can't imagine why you didn't want us to meet up sooner."

Sasha's cheeks flushed a little at that. "So anyway…" he started, jumping in quickly to change what he must have assumed was a dangerous subject, "I've been filled in with pretty much everything I missed. Gordon. The fact we're in South Dakota suddenly, though that part was pretty easy to figure out on my own. Anything else anyone needs to tell me?"

Poised with his coffee cup up to his lips, Dean almost choked on his next swallow.

Not now. When they were alone. Then he would. Definitely.

Dean tried to communicate that to Sam across the table, who was giving him that pestering evil eye of his. Dean half expected Sam to mojo him over telling Sasha about the demon deal, and almost thought that would be easier since then he wouldn't be able to chicken out. If they could just fix everything before he had to tell Sasha then it wouldn't matter. Dean highly doubted there would be any kind of divine intervention in the next twenty-four hours though.

But he definitely did not want to tell Sasha about the deal in front of his aunt. She'd filet him without a second thought. They had to be alone

"Nothing I can think of," Dean said, since no one else was offering Sasha a reply. He took another sip of his coffee, losing himself in the warmth and caffeine.

"In that case, young man," Shiarra said sharply to Sasha in a tone that said 'mother' in about five different ways, "You should be getting back to bed. You need to spend today resting. The whole day," she said a little louder, since Sasha had clearly been about to protest.

"So I take it that means you'll be sticking around?" Dean prompted, not that he was surprised.

Shiarra batted long lashes at him. He wondered if she actually wore makeup or if succubae were naturally that flawless and beautiful. Dean banked on the latter. "I won't be inconveniencing you another night, if that's what you're asking," she said, more like a challenge really than a reply, "But I will be staying the day. There is no reason Sasha shouldn't be entirely fine now, but I want to be sure. You can mill about on the couch if you want, dear," she added to Sasha, "But I still want you resting. Humor an old woman, will you?"

Dean sort of wanted to laugh at that. Shiarra looked twenty-five just like all adults of her kind, and also just like Sasha who was her much younger nephew. It was strange hearing so much class and experience coming out of the mouth of someone who looked younger than him. He wondered how old Shiarra really was, but Dean knew better than to ever ask a woman her age.

"Now…we need to have a talk," Shiarra said, and it took Dean a moment to realize she was speaking to him.

Swallowing thickly around his newest muffin, Dean tried to act unconcerned with the clip to her tone. "We need to have a talk?" he repeated, "And that would be because…?"

"We need to have a talk…privately," Shiarra said rather than explain herself further.

Dean could only assume this meant he had a very limited amount of time to live—and not because of the deal. He glanced at Sam who simply shrugged, Bobby who was staring at the food on the table and probably still trying not to think about what he walked in on between Sasha and Dean earlier, and Sasha just looked, well, Dean would have to say scared, and that just couldn't mean anything good.

Rather than think up any new ways to get under Shiarra's skin, Dean decided going along with things was probably smarter. He nodded to the succubus and stood up, taking his coffee with him. Nope, this wasn't awkward. Dean just felt like one of those hicks who gets 'a talkin' to' by their girlfriend's father with a shotgun.

On their way out of the kitchen Dean heard Sasha's voice rise a little as he said, "What about my leather jacket?" and Dean could have kicked Sam for choosing just then to tell Sasha about that. Then again, Dean was also kind of glad he wasn't in there to see the crushed look on Sasha's face.

"Okay, can we just get this over with," Dean started in as soon as they were far enough away from the kitchen to be overheard, "You obviously don't like me very much, and I won't lie, the feeling's pretty mutual. But if you think you can tell me—"

"I'm not going to tell you to stay away from my nephew."

Dean stopped long enough to avoid tripping over his tongue and managed a, "What?"

Shiarra sighed. She tossed Sam's abandoned sleeping bag off of the couch and took a seat, indicating with a flutter of her hand that she wanted Dean to join her.

Rather than risk incurring the succubus' wrath when it seemed she didn't currently have it out for Dean, the tired hunter chose to take that offered seat. Holding his retained coffee mug in both hands, Dean leaned forward on his knees and regarded the succubus. She had an expression that Dean knew he often wore himself, when he didn't mean to look mistrustful and challenging but couldn't help it.

"I'm listening," Dean said quietly when Shiarra just continued to stare at him.

Shiarra took a breath and Dean realized for the first time how young she could look despite the age in her eyes. "You saved Sasha's life," she said without ceremony, "And not just because you acted quickly to bring him somewhere safe and call me. But because you care for him, even being a hunter and knowing what he really is. You don't understand how hard that is for me to…accept. You see how easy it is to love that boy? It's not an incubus trait. It's a Sasha trait."

Dean almost snorted. He had figured that out a long time ago. He also understood what Shiarra was saying, the part Sasha always managed to conveniently leave out. "He had a lot of friends before he became a hunter, didn't he?"

"Every one of his kind turned on him for becoming a hunter," Shiarra said, confirming Dean's question without actually answering it, "And yet hunters discover he is an incubus and…don't. You just…care for him regardless. Maybe finding it so difficult to believe that does make me a hypocrite. Or maybe it's because I saw how easy it was for my kind to dismiss him that I figured why should yours be any different."

"The thing is," Dean couldn't help but interrupt, "I can't help thinking you knew that potion thing was going to work all along. Otherwise, I'm guessing you wouldn't have been nearly as…nice about everything. Am I right?" Dean said with a smirk.

There certainly had to be something about the succubus that wasn't all bad because when she smiled back at Dean it was entirely filled with humor and without any of the usual malice or distaste to mar it. "I apologize. But I will not take back any of what I said last night when we were alone."

"Good," Dean said, "Neither will I."

Blue eyes looked Dean over, calculating but not at all unpleasant. "Make sure he continues to call me from time to time. Or you'll be hearing from me much more often."

Dean took that for as much of a warning and a promise as he did a certain kind of blessing. He nodded and could only hope that when all was said and done, regardless of how his year ended, that Shiarra wouldn't think to ill of him.

It was only a few minutes later that the succubus called Sasha into the living room to take the couch. Dean noted that Sasha did seem more fatigued than usual and wasn't as steady on his feet as he tried to pretend. It made perfect sense considering how close the incubus had come to dying.

Considering the way everyone gathered in the living room with Sasha, Dean was pretty sure that getting his friend alone wouldn't be happening any time soon. He couldn't say he minded all that much either. Sasha looked so content wasting the day away with all the people he cared for most in the world. What right did Dean have to ruin that?

Shiarra completely forbid the hunters from talking shop while she was there, though Dean was almost certain that Sam's laptop screen would not be displaying Solitaire or Hearts if he glanced at it. The group shared lunch and eventually dinner too. Sasha fell asleep for about an hour during the afternoon and woke up looking and feeling even better, just as he did every minute that passed. And if Dean didn't know any better he would swear Shiarra was flirting with Bobby. He didn't take it seriously—doubted Bobby did either—but it certainly brought a little extra light to the older hunter's eyes.

Dean remembered what Sasha had told him about Shiarra's methods for hunting, something she had passed along to Sasha as well: forming a symbiotic relationship. Finding people who needed to be needed and giving them that. As long as the succubus-hunter flirting and seductive looks remained from afar Dean decided maybe Shiarra wasn't all that bad after all. Bobby could talk about the years he lived before any of the young hunters in the room were born and Shiarra was right there with him. Dean would have to remember to ask Sasha later how old Shiarra really was.

As the night grew late and there was less and less for them to distract themselves with, the conversation eventually turned to Deklin Kelly. Bobby had known him longer than anyone else, of course, but Shiarra had the information from those few missing years before the hunter's death, including the story of how Deklin and Sasha's mother met.

For the first time Dean caught wind of Sasha's mother's name. Solaris.

"No, it was a werewolf," Sasha argued happily," interrupting liberally whenever he disagreed with Shiarra as she told them of Solaris and Deklin's first encounter, "I swear it was a werewolf. It's in Dad's notes."

"Fine, fine," Shiarra conceded, "A werewolf. So as I was saying, if my sister's story is to be believed, they were enjoying perhaps thirty seconds of afterglow before the thing came crashing right into Deklin's hotel window, having followed them there."

"I still can't believe Deklin Kelly slept with a strange woman he'd just met in a bar," Sam cut in, slouched in one of the cushier chairs.

The whole of the group cast him incredulous looks, Dean especially.

"What?" Sam said in his defense, "He was supposed to be one of the best hunters that ever lived, and he sleeps with a succubus completely unaware? Who to him would have looked half his age. Not that…there's anything wrong…with sleeping with a succubus," he threw in lamely, since Shiarra was staring at him with raised eyebrows.

Apparently, the kicked puppy look worked on the succubus because she simply smiled and shook her head. "Believe me, Solaris could be quite persuasive. And Deklin was just her type. She wouldn't have taken no for an answer. And do keep in mind, dear, that she was also unaware of his status as a hunter. So you could call them…even."

"So this werewolf busts in…" Dean prompted. He was enjoying this story and wanted to hear the rest of it. He liked knowing he wasn't the only hunter who could be distracted by a sexy body and come-hither smile, especially when the example was Deklin Kelly.

"Well," Shiarra continued, "The sudden uncovering of Deklin's arsenal gave away that he was a hunter fairly quickly, as well as his generally rational approach to fighting off a werewolf. And then of course the appearance of claws and fangs gave away my sister since she rushed in to assist him."

"This is the best part," Sasha whispered to Dean, who was sitting on the floor leaning back against the bottom of the couch so that if Sasha wanted he could have tried all sorts of tell-tale things—running his fingers through Dean's hair being one Dean almost expected—but the incubus refrained much to Dean's relief. And possibly Bobby's relief as well. Dean really hoped they never actual discussed that.

Shiarra finished the story with a satisfied grin, apparently taking some succubus pleasure in how everything ended, which once again left Sam gaping. "They had sex again? Right after? Just like that?"

Dean laughed so hard it hurt. "Dude, they were still naked. Sasha's mom was hot. Hunting's like the biggest turn on ever. Of course they had more sex." This was why Sam was so uptight, Dean thought. The younger man didn't get laid nearly enough.

The sound of added laughter from behind and around Dean almost made the last couple of days fade away entirely. Dean was just fine with that. He was even starting to like Sasha's aunt. In small doses.

It didn't surprise Dean that Deklin had been completely uncaring at finding out Sasha's mom was a succubus—or at least that she wasn't human if he didn't guess what she was from just claws and fangs—because she had probably just saved his life and helped him finish a hunt. Dean was positive he would have done the exact same thing.

As if having read Dean's thoughts and finding them very pleasing, Sasha did just what Dean had mentally praised Sasha over for resisting—the incubus ran his fingernails up into the short strands of hair at the back of Dean's neck. Dean leaned into the comforting touch and tender scratches. He glanced discreetly at Bobby in a chair across the room but the older hunter was talking to Shiarra. Dean realized suddenly that the succubus was getting up and saying goodbyes.

"I'll be fine," Sasha insisted, removing his hand from Dean's hair and grinning as Shiarra came over to hug him tightly and kiss his forehead. Since Dean was somewhat beneath the succubus as she did this he tried his damnedest not to look up at how her bosom spilled out a little above him. It wasn't easy.

"I wouldn't go at all," Shiarra said, "But if I don't get back to my quarry he'll be running back to his soon-to-be ex-wife in a heartbeat, and three weeks worth of work will go right down the drain. And believe me no one would benefit from that aside from the gold-digging tramp he never should have married in the first place."

Since she was in a room full of hunters, Shiarra was accommodating enough to explain when three sets of eyes turned to look at her warily.

"Far too much drama," she said, "The man just needs to learn that he can do better. Much better. I'm planning on introducing him to a lovely woman at his office once I've…soothed his ego," she said with a discrete smirk that made Dean chuckle despite himself, "All for the best," Shiarra went on, passing a hand over Dean's hair much like Sasha would have and then moving to kiss Sam and Bobby on the cheek in turn.

Both hunters blushed.

"Keep me informed," Shiarra said before turning to the door, "I would prefer not to be called under such circumstances again, but if…any of you…" she said with a bat of her eyes and coy smile at Bobby, "Ever wish to call on me for other reasons, I promise I'll be much more pleasant company. Do take care of my boy," she finished.

Dean didn't miss for a second who that last line was mostly directed to. It made a lump rise in his throat, like he had added both a burden and a gift to his life with equal weight that entirely canceled each other out and left Dean feeling…very confused. He was glad Shiarra was leaving and that it was late. Not late enough to normally call it a night, but after the past few days, Dean was definitely more weary than usual.

Once Shiarra had gone it didn't take long before Bobby was heading up to bed as well, saying how much he needed to get some actual work done tomorrow but that the boys were more than welcome to stay as long as necessary.

"You can take my bed, Sam," Sasha said, eyeing his own tired body on top of Sam's sleeping bag, "I've been on your bed all day."

"Oh no," Dean said mockingly to his brother, "You might catch some of those horrible incubus cooties. Run away!"

Sam laughed and Sasha knocked the back of Dean's head lightly with a closed fist. "Ha ha," Sasha droned.

"I'll be fine," Sam said, pulling his duffle out from behind the couch where he had dumped it earlier, and rummaging for something to wear to bed, "You're the one recovering. You take the bed. I don't mind the couch. And now Dean can have the pullout upstairs." Sam stopped mid-rummage, clutching a sweatshirt. It was as if he knew he had said something that brought up a lot more than where who was sleeping tonight. He didn't say anything though and Dean was grateful.

Sasha started to get up from the couch, stretching high above his head since he had been forced to kick back all day, and causing those horrible printed pants to ride that much lower. He hadn't ever bothered to pull the drawstring tighter. Dean was still on the floor, watching as Sasha walked a little in front of him, stretching more. The wing tattoos stared back at Dean along with the little bit of lower tattoo that curled around Sasha's hips and then dipped down to disappear beneath the zubaz' waistline.

Just breathe, Dean told himself. Now he could get Sasha alone. Now he could tell him.

"I'm going to bed then," Sasha said, turning back around to smile at Sam and Dean. Dean didn't miss the sparkle in Sasha's eyes, the extra little look, little smile that said 'you damn well better follow', which was bad because Dean was supposed to be thinking clearly so he could finally tell Sasha about the damn elephant in the room.

"Right," Dena managed, giving Sasha a nod that answered 'Just give me a minute' and promised he would follow just as asked.

Panic gripped Dean's heart as soon as Sasha disappeared into the guest bedroom though. He had already decided he was going to tell Sasha today. He had to do it. He had to follow Sasha in there and ruin everything. Damn it.

Sam pulled out what he deemed suitable clothing for the night and took off for the bathroom. Again he didn't say anything, but he gave Dean a look, a 'you better do the right thing' look that made Dean feel guilty when he hadn't even moved from the floor yet.

As far as Sam knew should Dean be gone when he returned—which he would be—Dean was just upstairs getting comfortable on the pull-out. At least that was the story Dean was going to stick to. He still doubted he would survive the next five minutes. Hell, he'd probably end up sleeping out in the Impala if this went horribly wrong.

"Hey. Sasha?" Dean called as went into the guest room and closed the door behind him. Sasha wasn't immediately visible but that quickly changed when the incubus pretty much attacked Dean on entry and pressed him back into the door, kissing Dean nowhere near chaste with deep plunges of his tongue.

Not exactly how Dean expected this to go. "Sasha…!" he tried, pushing on the incubus' shoulders but having little effect on the heavier, larger, and significantly stronger body even when injured, "Hang—! Hang on!" A more forceful push finally did the trick, but Sasha remained closely pressed against him.

"I knew you'd come," Sasha grinned, his face already flush and voice ragged, "I was getting so damn sick of interruptions. And Gordon. He won the prize—twice. No interruptions this time…" Sasha added with a smirk speaking of a hunger that always made Dean shiver. Hard.

"Sasha…"

"Not listening," the incubus said in a sing-song voice, kissing Dean brief but fierce and then starting a promising trail down Dean's neck.

Dean shivered again. He had to focus. "Sasha, wait. Okay? You have to…listen." Dean doubted he sounded all that convincing when he let out a sudden moan as Sasha kissed all the way up to his left ear and licked the rim. Heat flooded into Dean's gut like a wave. This was bad. "Sasha, please…"

That growl-like purr left Sasha's throat, and since Sasha was still teasing Dean's ear their necks were touching, making Dean feel vibrations travel all the way down his chest. "Say that again…" Sasha demanded roughly.

Fuck. This was really bad. But Dean could handle this. Sasha was just really close to a regular feeding time, and he probably craved a warm body a little more than usual what with the almost dying thing. Dean couldn't blame the incubus for being frisky. "Please, stop. How's that?" Dean said, "Coz we…right now we…can't do this." Dean took hold of Sasha's shoulders and once again pushed, finding it surprisingly easy this time to get Sasha to move away from him.

And then there were those puppy eyes, ten times worse than Sam's, all droopy and crushed and crystalline blue. "What's wrong?" Sasha said, his voice so damn small suddenly.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This wasn't fair. None of it was. "Sasha…" Dean tried, "It's not that I don't…kind of…want to…a whole damn lot…but it's just…well…we need to talk."

Clearly, that was not the right choice of words. Sasha's eyes went wide with fear and ample amounts of fury. "What do you mean? Is it because of Shi? Did she say something? She just worries too much. Don't—"

"No, Sasha. It has nothing to do with her."

"Then is it because of what happened? I know it scared you but I'm fine. Look at me," Sasha said, standing back enough to spread his arms as if to show off how healthy and free of wounds his body was. Of course all Dean could look at was the remains of the scar, faint as they were. "I'm gonna be okay," Sasha insisted, taking Dean's hand and placing it right on top of the scar over his heart, "Steady rhythm. All because of you."

God. Why did he have to say it like that? Dean tugged his hand away. "Just listen to me for a second, okay?"

"No," Sasha shot back, eyebrows knitting angrily, "I'm done listening to your excuses, Dean. Why can't you just let this happen? Why does it have to be so hard? I almost died!" he said, teeth clenched tight as he stepped in close to Dean's space again, "I thought I was dead for sure. I'd accepted that I was never going to see you again. Or Sam. Or anyone."

"I know," Dean said, hating that this seemed to be turning out even worse than he could have imagined it, "I thought the same thing. That's why I need to—"

"No," Sasha said again, fiercer, more determined with his hands coming up to grip Dean's biceps hard, "I'm done letting you run away from me. We're here now. Tomorrow maybe we won't be. What if this is the only moment we ever get? Don't you ever think about that?"

Dean wanted to cry, scream, something. Of course he thought of that. He thought of that every fucking day and Sasha didn't know why.

"If tonight is all we get," Sasha said, almost as if he did know, as if he understood even though Dean hadn't said a word, "Then I don't want to waste a single moment."

Blue eyes glowed, too bright as always and so close to Dean he could see every change of color, every variation in shade. Then Sasha was kissing him again, deeper than before, possessive and demanding, and damn it, Dean couldn't care about the god damn deal, he couldn't get himself to turn away or tell Sasha to stop.

What if there was no tomorrow. That's how Dean had always lived his life. He was a hunter; it just seemed smart. But lately it had seemed so much more important. Sometimes for silly things, like taking an extra slice of pie or stopping to ruffle Sam's hair like he used to when they were both still young. Other times it seemed more even important, like teaching Sam how to fix that clanking sound the Impala made sometimes or allowing a stray hug when Dean just didn't do that.

Right now Dean couldn't care about anything but the moment he was in and it felt so thrilling that he let all the built up anxiety in his body fade. In another second he had pushed Sasha away again, but only so he could flip their positions, pressing Sasha back into the wall and pinning the incubus hard.

Sasha looked stricken at first, like he thought Dean was acting out because of how Sasha had been forcing himself on him, something the incubus seemed perfectly okay with accepting punishment for. But then Sasha must have noticed how the look on Dean's face had changed, because soon he was smiling.

"Let's get one thing straight," Dean said, low and promising, "If we're gonna do this…then I am not going to be some pansy ass little girl about it, ya got me? Dean Winchester doesn't do fainting violet." Hell no.

The smile on Sasha's face turned pleased and wicked as he said, "About damn time," and grabbing Dean by the front of his shirt he crushed their lips together again.

Apparently Sasha hadn't been listening. Dean regained control of the kiss by pressing the incubus back against the wall more firmly, fighting for dominance with an experienced tongue, and jerking his hips just the slightest bit. Sasha trembled in Dean's hold and that was it. No more reservations. This was happening now.

They kissed heatedly for some time, right there against the wall, with Sasha, albeit taller than Dean, pinned willingly. The deep probing of tongues, both talented and wonderfully wet, made Dean forget for at least a little longer why he could ever be anxious about doing this with Sasha. The incubus was so damn sexy, every wonderfully male part of him. And Sasha definitely knew what he was doing.

Dean felt the telling presence of weight and heat against his thigh from beneath Sasha's pants. He knew Sasha wasn't wearing anything underneath them; how low they hung didn't leave much room for imagination. Dean felt the heat in his own gut flowing more and more southward too, especially when Sasha's fingers feathered up under his T-shirt—thank God he hadn't worn layers today—and tickled along the muscles of his stomach. Then Sasha was tugging, pulling, and Dean let the cotton lift up over his head and disappear so that their equally bare chests pressed back together, so warm.

Their lips reconnected too, but when Dean broke finally from their continued lip-locking, the heat from Sasha's eyes was enough to burn him. Dean had to admit, he was absolutely willing to stand there and melt.

A gentle push at Dean's chest told Dean that Sasha wanted freedom from the wall, and because Dean was nice like that, he allowed it, taking a few slow steps backwards. Sasha pushed on Dean's chest again, smirking and biting his lower lip. Dean obeyed, taking a few more steps back so that there were several feet between them. Then Dean understood what Sasha meant to do.

The incubus teased his fingers along the drawstring of his pants just as he had done that morning, only this time it was more than a tease. Dean swallowed low in his throat, his heart beating hot and fast as he watched Sasha pull one of the strings out of its bow, loosening the pants just enough so that they fell past slim hips straight to the floor.

Against any will of his own, Dean took in the sight of that enticing tattoo—every last bit of it. It indeed went everywhere, even a little down Sasha's thighs and all the way around…

Dean swallowed again, finding it surprisingly difficult since his throat was so dry suddenly. Those voices that hung out in the back of Dean's mind were screaming at him, but he couldn't care to listen, not when the sight of Sasha made the heat in Dean's gut swell and boil over, pooling down lower and making him ache. Part of him couldn't believe he found a naked man that much of a turn on, but enough of Dean saw it as him being turned on by Sasha and he stopped questioning.

"You're way too fucking beautiful for your own good," Dean managed, his voice rough and shaky, "And I've never said that to another guy. Believe me."

Sasha laughed. God, it was so amazing to hear that sound after thinking he had lost it forever, even Sasha's laugh made Dean tremble a little. "I'm glad you think so," Sasha said, just as ragged of voice as Dean was, all trace of any anger banished. The incubus stepped out of his discarded pants and slowly made his way back to Dean.

Dean recognized that look, all confidence and hunger. That was the look Dean usually wore when he was seducing his latest conquest at whatever random bar they happened to be at. He hoped he had that look now, at least to hold true to what he had promised and not be a girl about this.

Still, he knew his breath hitched when Sasha reached him, toying at the waist of his jeans with a whispered, "Your turn."

How was it that Dean could feel so small suddenly? Sure, Sasha was taller than him, but Dean was all about dominance and forceful play in the bedroom. He'd tried everything. Almost everything. And he was good at everything he did. Dean knew his butterflies had nothing to do with Sasha being an incubus either. He could best an incubus, damn it. It was just that this was…Sasha. And that made everything different.

Dean felt pressure as his jean button was undone and then heard the slow separation of metal teeth as the zipper went down. All the while he stared up into Sasha's eyes, those too blue eyes, and the way Sasha looked at him, hungry, heated, and penetrating as it was, made Dean feel stronger. He could do this. Because he wanted this. Because he was Dean Fucking Winchester and if there was one thing he did particularly well other than hunting it was…well…self-explanatory.

Sasha pulled Dean's jeans and shorts down his body in one long, slow movement, crouching all the way down when the jeans reached Dean's ankles so he could help Dean step out of them. Then Sasha was climbing back up Dean's body, and Dean had to say climbing because Sasha's hands found holds everywhere, gently passing along the bandages over the wound on his leg, trailing up his thighs, his hips, his stomach, and then reaching around Dean's back to pull their bodies flush and steal another kiss

There was an involuntary jerk below Dean's waist as certain otherwise connecting parts clashed together. Dean pressed harder into the kiss and pressed his hips forward too. This was definitely different than what he was used to. Dean had never been enveloped before, but that's what Sasha's body did, larger than his own and so possessive. He almost shivered again but Sasha shivered first and it reminded Dean that he had just as much of an effect on the incubus as the other way around. Dean could use that.

Determined to play this out evenly and absolutely refusing to be led along like some timid virgin, Dean pulled enough away while still maintaining their kiss to slide a shaky hand down Sasha's chest…and keep going. He paused at the groove of Sasha's well-defined hip bone, but only for a moment. As Dean's hand passed into coarse hair, he couldn't help smirking.

"Guess you weren't lying about that fire engine red hair," Dean whispered, just about the time his fingers curled around Sasha and squeezed.

A gasp left the incubus that sounded suspiciously like relief and his forehead fell gently against Dean's. A few non-syllables trying to pass for words answered Dean's tease, and Sasha tried to continue kissing with softer, light touches of their lips as if he were unable to function any more than that.

Their foreheads remained pressed together for balance, leverage, as Dean gave surprisingly familiar tugs that pulled something like purrs from Sasha's throat. It wasn't as if Dean didn't know how to do this—all guys knew how to do this. And just as it would be with anyone else, seeing Sasha's eyelids flutter and his breathing build were just as thrilling as being touched in return.

None of Dean's lovers had ever called him selfish.

Dean had to remind himself he was with an incubus though, and as much as Sasha was obviously enjoying Dean's touches the redhead wasn't about to just sit back and revel in the attention without offering some of his own. Sasha's forehead slid away from Dean's, his lips brushing Dean's jaw as they made their way back down Dean's neck. This time Sasha kissed right up to Dean's ear and bit gently just below it, liking at the skin and beginnings of little hairs.

Multitasking was a not a problem for Dean but Sasha's tender bite made him falter just a little. He enjoyed the feel of Sasha in his hand, hot and slick as he passed his thumb over the slit and Sasha shivered in his hold again. Dean wanted to keep pulling out those reactions again and again. He loved those strange little purrs, loved that animal nature in Sasha that made him want to bite and growl.

Then Sasha was moving to return the favor even more, his larger hand starting at Dean's thigh and trailing up and inward until the two hunters had mutual holds of each other that made Dean gasp just as Sasha had. That was different. Sasha's hands were bigger than Dean's, bigger than any that had ever touched him so intimately. It was almost intimidating, but Sasha proved very quickly how well those soft fingers could move.

Dean wouldn't be able to last very long on his feet. His knees were already shaking, and it was not any easier to stay steady with Sasha's hands on him and those lips pressing into his neck, nibbling lightly. They needed to get to a flat surface.

It didn't surprise Dean at all that Sasha seemed to read his mind, pulling slowly away, achingly with the way his hand slid from Dean's skin, and then Sasha was backing up to the bed and lowering himself onto the mattress. The whole thing was the very definition of come-hither, 'come and get it, take me', that Dean fairly forgot how to breathe. Did Sasha have any idea how frustratingly perfect he was? Pretty face, red, red hair, eyes that managed to glow and look hazy with lust at the same time, and all that pale skin—bare.

Dean wanted to run his tongue over every curve and dip of Sasha's tattoo. There was no question now; he had definitely lost all control of his body. Dean was wonderfully hard and Sasha just looked so inviting. The incubus was a master at seduction after all, and Dean ate up every heated glance and twitch of Sasha's muscles. If there were pheromones involved then they were only the normal kind, the kind that peaked Dean's interest enough for him to forget everything else but still left him to his own devious thoughts and devices.

Joining Sasha on the bed was just the logical thing to do, so Dean went forward, sinking down into the mattress with Sasha beneath him, rubbing their hips agonizingly together and going in for another kiss. Dean stopped just before their lips could touch though, suddenly nauseous.

"What's wrong?" Sasha breathed, concern overtaking desire for a moment.

Dean pushed up and started to get off the bed. "We can't do this," he said.

Sasha followed immediately. "Dean…?"

"I know it's just a guest room but…it's still Bobby's bed," Dean finished, shuddering at the thought, "Creeps me out."

The anxiety on Sasha's face instantly melted, leaving behind the closest thing possible to a laugh without there actually being sound. Sasha stepped into Dean's body, chests touching, erections passing each other teasingly. "The floor?" he suggested right into Dean's ear, his breathy voice hot on Dean's skin.

Whatever amount of arousal Dean had lost thinking about using a bed of Bobby's quickly found its way back at Sasha's words. He reached for Sasha's hips and pulled. Fuck, he loved the electricity that caused. "Floor's good," he choked out and immediately crumbled, pulling Sasha down with him until they landed rather hard in a heap of naked flesh on the carpet.

Sasha laughed too loud and Dean, despite laughing as well, shushed him. "Sam's out there, remember?" he said, even as he was positioning Sasha onto his back and climbing on top of the incubus' body. It had been so long since Dean had actually had sex, he had almost forgotten how good skin against skin felt. Dreams couldn't compare.

"Then shut up already and kiss me," Sasha grinned, reaching up to take Dean's face in his hands and pull their lips together. This kiss was slower, light flicks of their tongues, little nibbles on the flesh of their lips, and harsh, heavy breaths they couldn't quite catch.

Dean's hips jerked against Sasha's—they kept doing that—and he felt a moan building. It got lost between their mouths but it had Dean quivering. He needed to touch Sasha, found himself running his hands down Sasha's arms, over his chest and lower, loving the way Sasha's stomach dipped when breathed as if Dean could fall right into him.

Everything was smooth hard muscle, the softness Dean was used to with a woman still present in Sasha's skin but still so very different. Dean reached between Sasha's legs again as he had when they were standing, a knee firmly planted on either side of Sasha's hips now. Dean watched Sasha's reactions like they were artwork, the way the incubus pressed his head back into the carpet, mouth slightly parted, his neck so long as it arched. Dean wanted to lick it, so he bent down and made a wet trail from the dip in Sasha's throat all the way up to his jaw line. Again Sasha shivered. Sasha shivered. It more than made every second of this worthwhile.

When Sasha pulled Dean down into a kiss again, desperate, seeking to meet mouths with too strong hands at either side of Dean's face, the grip Dean had on Sasha got lost but the pressure of their bodies tight against each other made up for it. It was all so different, but Dean felt more than fine, that twin heat between their bodies making him want so badly that he was using his knee to spread Sasha's legs apart before he knew what he was doing.

In no time at all Dean was between Sasha's thighs, sliding a hand underneath one of Sasha's knees and lifting the leg completely to better…

Dean realized what he wanted, what he meant to do with somewhat of a shock. He knew what he wanted but he wasn't sure if there were some kind of rules to follow he didn't know yet. Was this okay? Did he need to ask permission? Did they need to flip a coin or something?

"Dean…" Sasha mewled, bucking his hips off the floor and staring at Dean with half-lidded eyes and labored breathing. If Dean did need some kind of permission to go further then that was definitely it.

This Dean had done before. With girls. But it still counted. He knew how the mechanics worked, knew how to make it easy, make it feel amazing. Usually, if a girl was into this position he would prepare her with one hand and let the other tease her body somewhere else, helping distract her from the first few stretches that could sometimes pinch. Dean did the same as he began to prepare Sasha, but more to distract himself. If he thought too hard about this he just knew he'd start to choke up.

So Dean's free hand slid up Sasha's stomach, seeking out a beginning tip of the tattoo, and then he began to trace. Lightly with just the tips of his fingers, Dean followed the curving tribal lines of the tattoo, around Sasha's hips, down his thighs, coiling around his hard length where Dean curled his fingers again and pulled.

More of those purrs left Sasha's throat and the incubus' eyes nearly rolled back into his head, like he was soaking all of it up, drinking all of it in—Dean's touch, Dean's eyes on his body, Dean affection. Then Dean realized that was probably exactly what Sasha was doing. Feeding gently off every sensation and every reaction Dean had. Between them was a circuit, flowing with energy and passion that pulsed through Sasha and gave him everything he needed to survive. There was something so fulfilling about being that for the incubus that Dean couldn't wait any more. He pressed himself to the entrance he had been stretching and slowly pushed in, careful, even though he knew there was no way he could hurt Sasha from hasty preparation.

Sasha's eyes fluttered open again, a weary but satisfied smile on his face that seemed to say finally and Dean couldn't blame the incubus for that at all. He felt it too, how much he had wanted, needed this.

It wasn't hard to find a rhythm with how Dean leaned forward and Sasha brought his legs up to curl around Dean's back. Dean's knees would have rug burn by the end of the night but he hardly cared about that now. The way Sasha's heels dug into the small of his back and lower where his tailbone fell to soft flesh, pressed them together even tighter with every thrust Dean made.

For a few moments Sasha's eyes were closed, his hips answering every movement of Dean's. But suddenly they opened, wide, flashing, and Dean realized they were incubus red as if Sasha could barely hold himself together.

Everything was so perfect, so fitting and right, that Dean couldn't help leaning close to Sasha's face to steal a hasty kiss and whisper, "Your incubus is showing."

A laugh choked out of Sasha immediately, and he must have known what Dean meant or could feel when one of his incubus aspects was visible, because he said, "Shut up," and stared right at Dean, unblinking.

"Thought you said…you…weren't usually this careless," Dean said, trembling from trying to keep his thrusts slow when half of him wanted to go for broke already and just end it.

Again Sasha managed something like a laugh. "I'm not," he said, head still pressing back into the carpet and the heels of his feet digging even more into Dean's lower back to pull Dean in deeper, "It's just…you," and Sasha's mouth fell open as he said that, revealing fangs on his eyeteeth that glistened in the light.

Oh yeah, Dean had lost all control of his body, his mind, everything, because with Sasha's eyes like that and the fangs…Jesus. Dean didn't know why the incubus parts turned him on so much, but they did, and his pace picked up. They had waited so long, come so far, cheated death and managed to find something like a relationship. Deep down Dean felt like…they'd earned this.

Dean sensed it coming, saw the signs in Sasha's face as the incubus' eyes clenched and his features twisted. To help things along Dean took Sasha in his hand again, and it only took a few good pulls before Dean felt heat pour over his fingers. There was just something so satisfying about getting the incubus to cum first.

Dean must have smirked or done something to look particularly pleased, because Sasha redoubled his efforts to pull them tight together, shifting his hips up into every jerk. His hands held onto Dean's biceps, squeezing too tightly, and soon after Dean was done, pulling out just before the same heat left him, leaving a little pool on Sasha's stomach.

For a moment there was only the sound of their breathing, harsh and loud around them. Dean looked vaguely around the room and found gold—Sasha's towel having been discarded after his morning shower on the floor, and within easy reach. Dean grabbed it with a sticky hand and wiped it clean, then swiped the towel over Sasha's stomach in a single movement before tossing the towel aside again.

Reality started to catch up, slow and creeping, making Dean's arms shake from having held him up whenever he wasn't touching Sasha. His thighs quivered too, though not nearly as much as Sasha's as the incubus uncoiled his legs from around Dean's back and placed his feet on the floor again.

Dean wanted to collapse forward, to just fall on top of Sasha in a contented heap, but he was too hot and falling off to the side sounded a lot better. He did so, landing just next to Sasha as they tried to still their breathing. Soon after Dean began to feel Sasha's eyes on him, blue again and smiling.

"So…is this where you freak out on me again?" he asked calmly.

Dean turned his head to look at Sasha. It was nice being eye to eye like this, which Dean realized had to mean that Sasha's legs were currently sticking out a lot further along the carpet than his were. "I'm not…freaking out," Dean said.

His only response was a single raised red eyebrow.

"Okay," Dean admitted, "Maybe just a little." He broke into a grin and laughed lightly, bringing a hand up to rub over his face and scrub back into his damp hair. "Fuck," he said, peeking at Sasha from between fingers, "Did we really just do that?"

"Yeah," Sasha replied, softly and still smiling. He reached across to grab Dean's face in his hand, "We did," he said and pulled Dean in for a soft, slow kiss.

Dean's heart was beating so hard, so wildly, but he wasn't freaking out, not really, not the way he might have once before. He drunk in Sasha's kiss and wanted more. So much more.

Teasing lightly with a swipe of his tongue at Dean's lips before pulling away, Sasha said, "Now can we go up on the bed," with a slight, purposeful whine.

"Wuss," Dean just had to say, but he obliged, getting achingly to his feet and turning to stare at the bed. He was pretty sure he would feel okay just laying on it. Of course in the next second he found himself tackled down on top of it from behind by a near giggling, deliriously happy incubus. "Freak!" Dean laughed back, though he tried to keep his voice low, "What the hell's wrong with you?"

Sasha stopped his attack sprawled halfway over Dean and just grinned.

Shaking his head at his…much more than friend…Dean managed to turn over and sit up a little, even with Sasha's body covering so much of him. This awarded him with the full sight of Sasha's backside and the discovery of something he hadn't noticed until now.

"Do you have a tattoo?"

Sasha blinked at Dean like he had lost his mind. "Uh…duh?"

"No," Dean said, trying to lean over Sasha's back to better see, "An actual, you weren't just born with it tattoo. Is that a…four leaf clover?"

Recognition dawned on Sasha it seemed, because the incubus suddenly really wanted to turn over again.

"Oh no you don't," Dean said, holding Sasha down. He knew any amount of success would only be because Sasha allowed it, but that didn't deter Dean at all, just so long as he got what he wanted. "Are you a girl?" he teased, since there definitely was a little clover tattoo on Sasha's ass where Dean never would have been able to see it until now.

There was high probability the incubus was blushing. "I was eighteen. In Canada. And drunk!"

Dean barked a laugh.

"I am Irish. Kinda. On the human part of my dad's side anyway. Shut up," he said more forcefully, even though he was still grinning like crazy, "You weren't supposed to ever notice. Jerk."

Dean had to refrain from retorting with his customary 'Bitch'. "If you expected sex at any point, how did you think you were going to hide it?"

"Dumb luck?"

Dean laughed again.

He allowed Sasha to move off of him so that eventually they situated themselves lying side by side on the bed. Dean generally liked being naked, and considering they had just had sex on Bobby's guest room floor, he was pretty sure he was no longer embarrassed being naked in front of Sasha. Next to Sasha. With Sasha naked too.

Staring with the incubus' toes, Dean cast a long slow look up his friend's body. Nope, nothing he didn't like. That was amazing within itself.

"So…what…does this make us exactly?" Dean prompted, smiling crookedly now, "Coz if you think I'm introducing you as my boyfriend to anyone…"

Another chuckle escaped Sasha's lips, his fangs gone, his blue eyes sparkling, and still absolutely beautiful in whatever form. Actually, Dean might be willing to say Sasha was much hotter than normal right now with his hair tousled and a little sweat on his skin. "We don't have to call ourselves anything," Sasha said, "It's thinking things have to change that'll mess with you. Besides, hunter life or not, I'd like to think we have plenty of time to figure that out, even if I'd never want to waste a single moment I have with you."

Sasha smiled, so sweetly, so wide, but his words clanged like a gong in Dean's head and everything slowed. Plenty of…

Time.

Every feeling of good will and happiness in Dean fell away so quickly, he thought he might throw up. What was he doing? What was he thinking? He had done the very last thing he had ever wanted to do to Sasha. And he hadn't even cared.

"Dean…?" came Sasha's voice, sounding strangely far away for being right next to him, "What's wrong?"

Everything, Dean thought, and he didn't know where to begin. He sat up, wishing the weight of it all would just leave him alone, but it felt all the more heavy as Dean sat there, taking in everything that had just happened. "I'm the biggest asshole in the world," Dean grumbled. How could he think any other way? He turned and Sasha had sat up next to him, all concerned for him, worried for him. "Don't hate me. No, wait. Hate me. It'd make it easier."

"Dean, what are you talking about?"

Painfully, Dean turned his eyes away, because he didn't think he could look at Sasha when he said this. "Sasha…there's something I have to tell you."

THE END OF ARC 3...tbc right here yet again with ARC 4!

A/N: Okay, maybe I AM a cold-heartless bitch. But I'll have you know that originally that was going to be THE END of the FIC. Of course that was months ago and I have three more arcs planned, along with threats should I ever try to abandon Sasha. Understood, my adoring and dangerous fans!

Also, may it be noted, that YOU DO NOT GET TO SEE THIS CONVERSATION. The next arc starts five days later. hehehe. So if anyone wants to take that plot bunny and write the convo, feel free, just make sure it ends with Sasha stepping out to get some air.

You're amazing, wonderful, loyal, and should be HAPPY you finally all got your sex. Good? Overall comments about the longest chapter yet? Thanks again!

Crim