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Love and Duty	By : rae_roberts Category: Supernatural > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3443 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and make no profit from this story. Just borrowing Papa Winchester and his boys for fun.

Chapter List
- 18
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Sam woke to sunlight, alone in the big bed. For a moment he panicked. Was he late to breakfast? His stomach knotted at the thought of facing the Winchester clan--the knowing looks, or in the case of Rufus and Pam, the leering and crude jokes--and he stifled a groan.   Well, he’d just have to face it, Sam decided, rolling off the big bed and moving to the dresser where a pitcher of water and a basin waited. He was just starting to wash up when the sound of the doorknob turning signaled Dean’s return.
His new husband was barefoot, his hair mussed, wearing nothing but an old, worn pair of denim jeans slung low on his hips. Sam swallowed hard, his body automatically reacting to Dean’s unintentionally seductive display. Belatedly, he remembered he was naked, and reached for a towel in a move that he hoped looked casual.
Too late. “Nice morning wood, there, Sammy,” Dean smirked.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Nice bed-head.”   Unconcerned, Dean ran a hand absently through his hair, making it stick up even more wildly, and set a basket down on the foot of the bed. Sam realized he hadn’t even noticed the big picnic-style basket he’d been carrying. Dean shirtless was making it difficult to focus. He rolled his eyes again in exasperation with himself.   “What’s this?” he asked, tucking the towel around his waist and moving closer to see.
“Raided the kitchen.   We’ve got biscuits, butter, jam, some of those pastries from the wedding reception, most of a chicken, ham, pickles...” he reported, rummaging through the basket.
“Ellen’s going to kill you," Sam said, joking. Mostly.
“Nah, everyone else is still asleep.” Dean grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “We can stay right here in this room all day if we want.”
“Good,” Sam said, thinking of his earlier dread at the prospect of facing breakfast with the rest of the boisterous extended Winchester family.
Dean stepped in close, that maddening, cocky grin spreading from ear to ear. “We’re on the same page, then.” He cupped a hand over the back of Sam’s neck, running his fingers up through his hair.
Sam could feel a blush heating his cheeks at the wanton implication of Dean’s words. Before he could think of a retort, Dean’s hand dropped to the towel at his waist, yanking it off. “Hey!” Sam protested, grabbing for it, but Dean backed away, holding the towel just out of reach.
“Come on, got something I want to show you.”
Sam could only follow as his husband led the way across the bedroom to what he assumed was the door to a closet. What now? But then Dean opened the door with a flourish and Sam let out an incredulous laugh. “A private bathroom? So all that Winchester bluster about treating everyone equally is just for show.”
Dean looked a little sheepish. “Dad had it built for my mom. And shut up,” he added with a bit of bluster of his own. “Nobody’s used it in years, but I figured a wedding qualified as a special occasion. I only turned on the water just the other day, to get the air out of the pipes.”
“It’s really nice,” Sam said, wanting to placate him. The last thing he wanted was an argument on their first full day of marriage. And it was nice, he thought, impressed in spite of himself. “I’ve never seen a private bath. Back at the academy we had a set-up like the bathhouses here on the estate, you know, a big communal room with stalls.”
Dean grunted acknowledgment as he turned on the taps, adjusting the temperature. The bathroom would be considered spartan by ancient standards, Sam thought, those long-gone, decadent days when clean water was plentiful and every home had at least one private bathroom, even the homes of the poor. But for a young man who’d grown up with water rationing and communal showers, the small tiled room with a combination shower and tub seemed lavish indeed.
“Well, go on,” Dean ordered once the water was flowing from the showerhead. “You first.”
Sam stepped into the shower under his husband’s watchful gaze, reminding himself that after last night he had no reason to feel self-conscious at the scrutiny.   He closed his eyes and leaned his head back into the spray of warm water, wetting his hair. It wasn’t any surprise when Dean stepped into the tub with him, but still, Sam couldn’t help but hiss in a startled breath when warm, soap-covered hands stroked his chest.
“See? Showering together...No wasting water,” Dean said piously. He trailed his hands over Sam’s chest and shoulders and down his arms as he claimed his mouth with a wet kiss.
“That’s very responsible of you,” Sam managed to deadpan when they came up for air. Dean’s hands roamed, soaping his body, driving him a little more wild with every slick, slippery caress. Sam grabbed the soap and lathered his own hands, determined to tease right back. He ran his fingers through Dean’s short, spiky hair, washing it clean, then down over his broad, muscular shoulders as Dean pulled him in close for another kiss.
Dean’s hand snaked around Sam’s waist. He gave his butt cheek a squeeze, then ran questing fingers along the crack of Sam’s ass, drawing out another sharp intake of breath. Dean moving in to reach around Sam’s body brought the hard length of his cock up against Sam’s thigh. Sam reached down boldly to soap Dean’s balls, hefting them in his hand, squeezing them gently. It was gratifying to hear Dean moan at the intensely intimate contact, and better still to feel the older man thrust his hips forward, rutting his cock against his thigh. Dean pushed his tongue into Sam’s mouth, both hands gripping his ass, fingers digging in, spreading his cheeks apart as the shower rinsed the soap from their bodies.
This was it, Sam thought, the consummation of their marriage. He expected Dean to push him up against the tiled wall and take him right there, but when Dean pulled back, it was to kneel in the tub at Sam’s feet. “No,” he stammered as it became clear what Dean was about to do, that ingrained sense of a slave’s obligation to his master making him protest even as his cock gave an eager twitch in Dean’s hand. “No, you don’t--”
The words trailed off into a needy whimper as Dean ran his tongue up the length of his cock, a slow, firm lick that left Sam balanced on a knife edge of lust and shame. A small voice from somewhere in his mind insisted that this was wrong. This was something he was obligated to do for Dean, not the other way around. Another desperate whimper tore from his throat as Dean lapped at the head of his cock, encircling it with little teasing licks. “Yes. I want to,” Dean murmured, his lips brushing against that oh-so-sensitive flesh. Then he took him into his mouth and Sam couldn’t think of anything except how good it felt.
Dean was taking him as deep as he could, which honestly wasn’t very deep, but his hand stroking the shaft of Sam’s cock in rhythm with his mouth was enough to drive him to the brink. Dimly, Sam knew he should hold still, and he tried--he did--but he couldn’t stop himself. It just felt so good, he couldn’t help bucking his hips, thrusting deeper into Dean’s mouth, making him gag. Dean gripped Sam’s hips, holding him still. It only took a few short minutes before the teenager came with a shout that was almost a sob.
“I’m sorry,” he panted as Dean stood up to face him, but Dean just grunted a negative and pulled him in for a kiss. Sam could feel his husband’s cock, still rock-hard, pressed against his hip. So, now, he thought, grateful that Dean had been so patient, even letting him come first. Surely now Dean would fuck him, wouldn’t he? Sam was bewildered when Dean ended the kiss, turned off the shower, and reached for a towel.
Ever since he’d been old enough to understand the path marked out for his life as a child-bearing male, he’d wished to be sold to a master who would treat him kindly. Sam was starting to realize he’d set the bar for that kindness very low. He’d been raised to think of himself as inferior, a slave useful only for breeding, and even though he’d always fought against that conditioning, Sam had subconsciously absorbed enough of it that he’d fully expected to be degraded and abused. Dean had already given him what he’d never dared to hope for. For all his cockiness, Dean had always treated him like an equal.   Of course he’d subjected Sam to plenty of teasing for being a bungling city slicker, but still a person, not a mere breeder.    Not a slave.
Even so, Sam didn’t know quite how to take his husband’s delay in getting down to that actual business their marriage had been arranged for in the first place: siring heirs.   Was there some other custom that had to be fulfilled first, that his city upbringing had left him ignorant of? Was he supposed to be the one taking the lead? “Everything okay?” Sam asked hesitantly as he toweled off.

“Awesome… Except I’m starving.”   Dean wrapped his towel around his waist and strolled back to the bed, delving into the picnic basket with gusto.
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Love and Duty