Title: Vinculum Pro Totus Infinitio
Warnings: WINCEST, smut, language
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, all similarities to persons living or dead are purely coincidental. I own nothing but the seat of my pants.
Summary: what if the tattoos weren't just for protection?
Archive: Please ask first
Feedback: as always, yes please but no nits or shreds thanks
Author's Notes: I couldn't get the tattoos out of my mind, so this is my story about them. I'm just that obsessed about them it was keeping me awake at night. And I was in a Wincesty mood, so, yeah…It follows on from the end of Jus In Bello, and includes the end of that episode at the beginning.
Major thanks to me wonderful beta, Tina hugs
They had just got back to the motel room, when a knock at the door startled them both.
Dean opened the door only to come face to face with Ruby. "Turn on the news," she snapped at him, walking into the room.
They switched on the TV. "The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened just a few hours ago," a reporter was saying. "Police believe a gas main ruptured, causing a massive explosion, and claiming the lives of everyone inside. Among the deceased at least six police officers and staff including Sheriff Melvin Dodd, Deputy Phil Amichi, and Secretary Nancy Fitzgerald, as well as three FBI Agents identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy, and Victor Henriksen. Two fugitives in custody were also killed."
Both boys fell silent under Ruby's intense stare.
"Must've happened right after we left," Sam realized sadly.
"Considering the size of the blast, smart money's on Lilith," Ruby explained, tossing small, brown mojo bags at them.
"What's in these?" Dean asked, looking suspiciously at the mojo bag in his hand.
"It'll protect you. Throw Lilith off your trail – for the time being at least," Ruby told him with a sneer.
"Thanks," Sam said quietly.
"Don't thank me. Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered your precious little virgin as well as a half a dozen other people. So after your big speech about humanity in war, it turns out your plan? Was the one with the body count. Do you know how to fight a battle? You strike fast, and you don't leave any survivors, so no one can go running to tell the boss. So next time? We go with my plan." She turned and left without another word.
Sam looked to Dean and Dean looked at Sam, confusion mirrored in both their faces.
"We need to talk about this, Dean," Sam finally spoke, sometime later. After Ruby had left, they had both stretched out on their respective beds and avoided discussing the events. It was Dean's way of dealing, and for the most part Sam would go along with it… but not tonight.
"No, we don't," Dean growled. He knew he'd made mistakes, but to have someone like Ruby pointing them out was kinda like being kicked in the nads.
"Dean…" Sam pleaded.
Sam's voice reaching out to Dean was almost like another kick in that sensitive area. He wasn't ready to face his brother yet. He needed to go out, get blind drunk and get laid – whichever happened first.
Jumping off his bed, he grabbed his jacket and his keys. "I'm going out. I'll be back later."
Then he was gone, leaving Sam alone to contemplate his thoughts yet again. If Sam were honest with himself, he was getting sick of Dean running out on him every time they needed to talk. And he was in two minds as to run after him or not, but that wouldn't accomplish any thing more than Dean shutting down on him all together.
No, he'd wait until Dean came back and then they would talk.
Dean pulled the Impala into the first bar he came too, and once he'd parked up, he found he couldn't force himself out of the car. His knuckles were white where they wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. He had four fucking months left to live and he didn't want to spend them arguing with his Sammy.
He'd have a couple of drinks, calm down, see if there was any local talent and hopefully get laid in Nancy's memory. That's what he was telling himself at any rate.
But three drinks down the line and he still hadn't scored. He'd used every pick-up line that had worked for him in the past, every 'look' that had always worked for him, but still, he was getting nowhere.
Throwing a Dean-sized tantrum, he stormed out to the Impala and drove back to the motel as angry as hell and frustrated as all get out.
Maybe this was the time to have it out with Sam. He certainly was in the mood for a fight now.
It was kinda odd really. He'd had a weird feeling inside him for some time now. Three or four weeks to be exact. Since they had gotten the demon-repelling tattoos to be even more precise. The most freakiest thing was: he hadn't actually gotten lucky one time since they'd got the tats.
Something was definitely wrong, he was sure about that. And it wasn't just that the skank demon bitch had called him out on how badly things had gone earlier, that the innocent virgin had died because of him.
Pulling up outside the motel, Dean realized his hands were shaking. Dizziness made him shake his head and he figured the whiskey shots must have hit him more than he realized because he was starting to feel a little nauseous too.
Stumbling out of the Impala, Dean managed to make it as far as the door of their room before a particularly strong wave of nausea hit him and he stumbled, falling on his ass against the wooden frame.
The door swung open and Sam loomed above Dean as he sprawled all over the floor, groaning and clutching his cramping belly.
"Dean?" Sam's concerned voice flowed like molasses over Dean's body and he felt instantly soothed. He felt confused. It was his job to look after Sammy, not the other way around.
"Dean? What happened?" Sam's worried voice assaulted his ears as he felt his brother's arms pull him up off the floor and heave him over to the bed.
"What the hell happened to you?" Sam hadn't been worried until Dean had turned up in this state. He hadn't even been gone long enough to get drunk, let alone find some comely young wench willing to share his charms with. And as Sam bent over him, he could smell the whiskey on his brother's breath, but there was no stench of sex about him.
"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Dean moaned softly. The nausea and cramping he'd had moments earlier was easing already. Settling back on the bed, he let Sam pull off his boots and roll him out of his jacket. "We gotta talk… need to tell you… smell good… knows I love you… Sammy… "
Sam's eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline. Obviously Dean had been gone long enough to pickle himself in a whole bottle of whiskey from the nonsensical rambling he was getting.
"We'll talk tomorrow, Dean. Get some sleep, okay?" Sam went to pull the covers from under the dead weight of his brother and wrap them around him but Dean grabbed hold of his wrist with a strong and sure hand.
"No, now. I couldn't get laid, Sammy. I tried. I really did, but I couldn't get any of the women in the bar to even look at me. Something's wrong with me." Dean rambled again, holding onto his brother's wrist as if his life depended on it.
Sam half snorted at Dean's confession. That must have really sucked for Dean after the day they'd had… But Sam couldn't help but feel a little bit relieved that Dean hadn't screwed some random chick in some random bar again.
"You need some sleep, c'mon." Sam again tried to get the covers from under Dean's body, but Dean was being all kinds of awkward.
"Am horny not sleepy," he mumbled, his eyes darkening even more. "I need… I need… you…" The realization thickened his throat, deepened his voice and spilled into the night air like a pledge.
"You're drunk," Sam replied.
"Am not. Only had three shots. Single shots. And I know what I want, what I've always wanted… but just been to scared to see it."
Sam stared down into his brother's face. A million untouchable thoughts raced through his mind as he tried to grasp what Dean was saying… offering… "Dean…" so close they were sharing the same breath.
His brother's tone was so pleading it almost cracked Dean's carefully constructed walls. But he knew they would be coming down tonight, now, finally. He wrapped his hands around Sam's arms and tugged him down until their lips were less than a hairsbreadth apart.
"I've always wanted… you…"
Sam's breath hitched and Dean stole that exact moment to kiss his brother.
Sam let himself tumble onto the bed, onto Dean. How could he fight when this was all he'd ever wanted? The bonding spell he'd linked to the amulet tattoos had been his own undoing. All he'd meant to do was try and find a way to keep them together, stop Dean from going to Hell. He hadn't realized in his desperation that the bonding spell had been for lovers…well, not at first anyway and not that it mattered to Sam, because Sam had ever only really loved Dean, deep down inside where it mattered, where it counted.
Dean's hands were sliding round Sam's torso, the hard grip given up for soft, slow caresses. Sam's hands wound their way under Dean's crumpled t-shirt to touch the forbidden skin beneath it.
"Always… only ever wanted you… Sammy…"
Dean's husky whisper drowned Sam's senses until he was melding himself around his brother on the bed. It was becoming harder to tell where one brother started and the other ended.
Muscled arms tearing clothes from each other's bodies. Long limbed legs wrapped sensuously around muscled slightly bowed legs. Torsos pressed urgently against nearing naked skin. Hardened groin against hardened groin, rubbing, seeking relief.
It was only when naked skin touched naked skin from tip to toe that the dance really began. Dean wanted dominance and wrestled with Sam until he rolled them over and came to rest above his younger brother.
"I got you Sammy… my Sammy… always been there for you… always taken care of you… gonna take care of you now…"
Dean's voice rippled and cascaded over Sam's muscled body and heated skin like silk, setting all his dulled senses alight. No woman had ever touched him the way Dean had. No woman had ever made him feel like he was king of the world like Dean did…
…and in this moment, that was all that existed for him, both of them. That contact that they had both secretly craved through the years. How could they have fought it for so long? How come it took some demon-repelling amulet tattooed on perfect flesh to make them come to their senses? How come it took some half-assed incantation Sam had found in a book of love charms to make them both see what had been in front of their faces all their lives?
Velvet covered steel shaft rubbed against velvet covered steel as they ground against each other. Dean's hand came between them to stroke both cocks as if he could make them one. Sam's larger hand covered his brother's, desperation lit his eyes… that all consuming need for release…
Panting breaths, slight groans of pleasure, little mewls of satisfaction – from both of them as they neared their individual, yet melded, climax. Dean's face buried in the curve of Sam's neck, teeth grazing the flesh but his breath burned hot against the salty skin. Sam shivered beneath his brother, his mouth against Dean's ear, tongue seeking out the shape of the shell.
"Not gonna last, little brother… want you so much… need to… oh God…" Dean's declaration had Sam tightening his hand around Dean's as they pumped their cocks faster, harder.
"Don't wanna last, Dean… need to come… wanna come all over you…" Sam's declaration seared into Dean's heart and at that moment, he knew – knew he could never leave Sammy… his Sammy…
Gasps from both of them just seconds before they both came against each other's bellies. Hot jets of semen mixed together and hitting flesh so hot the heat went unnoticed. Grunts of satisfaction from both men as they collapsed in each other's arms, against each other's sweat and come-covered bodies.
At that moment, the tattoos on their collar bones burned, branding them deeper into the brothers' flesh and sealing the deal.
"You did something, didn't you, Sammy?" But it wasn't an accusation that Dean spoke.
"I might have," Sam mumbled softly, feeling a fresh new heat spread over his body.
"What did my clever, geeky little bro do this time?" Dean's hand smeared through the mixed semen on their bellies, fingertip tracing unseen patterns on Sam's belly beneath him.
"I didn't want to lose you, so I… er…" He bit his lip. "I cast a spell on the tattoos so we'd be bonded for all eternity. Vinculum Pro Totus Infinitio."
"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" Dean whispered quietly, meeting Sam's eyes.
"Nope," Sam half-smirked at the thought of Dean admitting his love. "Never."
"I love you Sammy. Always have and always will… and this--" he indicated the amulet tattoo. "This has nothing to do with that whether you cast a spell of not. I always, always loved you."
"I know," Sam told him, snuggling deeper against his brother's warm body.
Finger's trailed down Dean's back and up Sam's arms as they rolled comfortably to their sides, unwilling to let go of each other.
"Need to shower," Dean mumbled as their sweat-soaked skin cooled, and their come dried on their bellies. "Cause the next time I come, little brother, I will be buried deep inside you, fucking you properly."
Sam groaned as his body hardened again. This was what he wanted. Had always wanted. There had always been this unspoken thing between them: a look, a touch that would mean nothing to anybody else, a silent communication between two kindred souls.
They were truly bonded for all eternity now. It was as if this had always been their destiny but they couldn't see it before now, and it took a tattooed amulet to make them see it.
Vinculum Pro Totus Infinitio - Bonded For All Eternity.