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A Miracles/Supernatural Cross-over by Heather L. Summary: Paul plays an erotic version of the "I'm not touching you" game with Dean. From several states away. Word Count: 2,440 Rating: Adult17+ for graphic sexual situations between two men and bad language. Beta Thanks: Laurel (Sailorhathor) Disclaimer: Dean and Sam are not mine. If they were I would not have time to write anything. They belong to the WB/CW, its respective enterprises, and most of all, Eric Kripke. Paul does not belong to me, either. He belongs to Richard Hatem, Spyglass, Touchstone, Disney, and all its respective enterprises. But I think he owes me one. Or two. Especially when those DVD royalties started rolling in. ((Bwahahaha! Preach it sister! - Laurel)) Author's Notes: This 'verse? It's Laurel's 'verse. I just play in it. This is an Alternate Universe sequel to her story, "Fate is an Engineer," which is pretty much an AU in itself. It also makes reference to the empathic connection first seen in "A Distant Voice in the Darkness," and is, of course, also a sequel to my story "Reach Out and Touch Someone." 3:28 am. And I am still awake because...? Paul Callan had seen a lot of evil, but none as heinous as the clock that was mocking him from its perch on the wall. He had just returned from a trip that had spanned three time zones and his own internal clock was, well, broken. Mysteriously free from mind-numbing take-home research, Paul had tried most of the traditional methods of falling asleep: He had a beer, but drinking straight from the bottle made it all too easy to imagine his lips around Dean instead. He tried counting sheep, but it was more like counting Deans. He even tried reading through some old papers of Keel's he had lying around, but to his horror, they were not boring enough to lull him to sleep. So, here was. Wide awake. And bored. He wished he were with Dean. No part of Dean was boring. Especially when Paul's mouth was on those parts. He wondered what Dean was doing right then. Their connection had become stronger since he realized it was there. Paul couldn't feel Dean all the time, but he got the occasional nudge from him that seemed to have no purpose except to say, "Hi. I'm still here." It was insanely erotic, and Paul wondered if Dean was perhaps using the connection to his advantage. Stretching out on the couch, Paul closed his eyes and concentrated hard on connecting with Dean. It was a familiar concoction that hit him. Dean was awake... and relaxed. Not hunting. No danger. No concern for Sam. They were safe. Paul took a few moments to drink in Dean. Dean was awake. He, too, should have been sleeping. He had stared jealously at the snoring figure of his brother for a long while before finally accepting his fate. Dean felt it the moment Paul reached out. He smiled to himself. It was a warm feeling, and maybe going a little gooey would help him relax enough to get to sleep. Of course, he corrected himself, getting turned on would probably have the opposite effect. And he didn't trust the appearance of Sammy's deep sleep enough to do anything about that. Back in Boston, Paul was shaking his head and smiling. In less than five seconds Dean had gone from 0 to horny. Dean could sense Paul... sensing Dean. Dean was growing a little frustrated. The arousal wasn't going away, but he didn't want to lose the connection with Paul. Sensing Dean in his current state was driving Paul crazy. Of course, he could have solved both of Dean's problems were he there, but what could he do from his apartment? Then he remembered. The phone call. Dean's orgasm had triggered his own from several states away. Paul had been wondering since then (well, since he regained rational thought after recovering from that) if it was the sound of Dean that triggered it, or if it was the thought of him, or if it was their connection... that Dean empathically triggered it by having his own. Oh, it was a low-down dirty trick. But Paul had to know. The curiosity was torture. Paul grinned mischievously as he removed his boxers. Back in his motel room, Dean gasped. He immediately looked to Sammy, who was still dead to the world. What the FUCK is that? Out of nowhere he was as hard as a rock. His skin tingled and he was breathing heavily. Oh, God! It was Paul. He was doing it on purpose! And Dean? Was not about to miss this ride. Paul had paused when he felt the shock, but the feelings that came after were the green light he needed to continue. Dean was more than willing to let him test out his theory. Paul grinned as he moved his hand back down. He closed his eyes and circled his shaft with a fist. He was hot and hard. He sucked in his breath and let out a small moan that would have driven Dean over the edge were he there. His fingers squeezed with just the right amount of pressure and he began stroking again. Slowly at first, but the essence of Dean filling the room caused him to absently speed up. His breathing was heavier, and if he had dared open his eyes, he would have seen the flush spreading out from his chest downward. He could imagine Dean lying there in bed with a raging hard-on, writhing in agony and ready to be inside Paul. He could imagine licking Dean's hard cock and hearing him call out his name over and over again. Paul could see Dean dominating him and telling him when he could come and how long to suck his cock while he was on his knees in front of him. That double arousal would be the death of them both. Paul wanted to drag it out more, but he was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen, especially with his imagination running wild... and Dean's monster libido overpowering him. He bit his lip and tried to slow it down. He couldn't even separate his feelings from Dean's anymore. He just knew that the feeling was delicious and he wanted it to last. He bucked his hips and tried to brace himself by putting one foot on the coffee table. The crashing of his foot through the side rails barely registered (whether it was from distraction or - at this point - repetition, he'd never know). He just fumbled around for something else to support his foot without breaking his rhythm. Dean was writhing on the bed. He fisted the sheet with one hand and shoved a pillow to his face to stifle the moans with the other. He thanked God the bed wasn't squeaking. The feeling was amazing and he wasn't even helping it along. He was getting closer. If Paul could manage to pull this off, Dean would have to use any excuse necessary to make a trip to Boston. Quickly. He pulled down his boxers to be ready for what he was sure was coming. Close. Paul was so close. Dean was close. He didn't know who was feeling what, but he knew there wasn't much time left for either of them. His attempts at slowing down had failed and he was now going rough and fast. Almost there. Closer. Paul's head fell back against the couch. He bit his lip so hard he could taste blood. He gripped the armrest hard and curled his toes. It was coming fast. He breathed deeply, concentrated intensely on Dean, and... Explosion. Nothing short of a jet engine in the room could have stifled the cry that escaped Dean's lips. His eyes widened and he swore he saw stars. "DEAN!" Sam awakened with a start. There was panic in his voice. "Are you OK?!! What's wrong?!!" All those years of thinking fast on his feet did not go to waste. "Nothing wrong, little bro," he said a little breathlessly. "Just a bad dream." Sam's concerned face was not going away. "A n-nightmare?" "No, Sammy, not one of your bad dreams. Just a regular person, run-of the-mill bad dream." Concerned face was replaced by little brother face. "Oh, Dean... was it... about... you know? The Care Bears again?" Dean had to laugh despite his currently sticky situation. "Fuck you, Sammy! It was one time and I was nine!" "Dude! You asked Dad for a shotgun so you could deal with them if you ever saw one!" Sam ducked as Dean threw a pillow at him, and he settled back into bed, laughing softly. Dean was lucky it was dark, making it hard for Sam to make out too many details as he made his way to the bathroom to clean up. His afterglow ruined a bit by Sammy, he paused to revel in what was left of it. He changed into clean jeans and a shirt and quietly slipped past an already asleep Sammy (Dean was still jealous of that). When he was far enough away from the motel room, he took out his cell and dialed Paul's number. Paul, having disturbed no one (at least no one he could see), was quite content to stay on the couch and recover. He thought he just might collapse if he tried to walk. Which, of course, was the perfect time for the phone to ring. Paul scrambled to his feet, but was thwarted by a corner of the fallen table. Paul went down hard, but was spared serious injury when he collided, headfirst, into the arm of the couch. Trying hard to ignore the pain, he made a mad dash for the phone. Disoriented and thinking it was probably Keel, he didn't look at the caller ID before he answered it. "Hello?" "That? Was a dirty trick," the voice said matter-of-factly. Dean! Paul laughed. "Seemed like you enjoyed it to me." "Never said I didn't." Paul had to know. "So. You felt it. Did you... you know... come? I mean, I'm pretty sure you did, but-" "I did. But Paul, I didn't even have to help it along, if you know what I mean. And it was more intense than anything else... except for that time on the phone with you. It's almost as if I am feeling your arousal, too." He paused. "Does that sound insane or what?" "No," he laughed. "No, not at all. I wanted to know... that time on the phone. I came when you did and I didn't even have to... I wondered if it was just the situation or if it was the connection. Tonight my curiosity got the better of me. I had to know if I could make you come this way." "Oh, you certainly did!" Paul could hear him grinning. "I moaned so loud I woke up Sammy." "Oh, I'm sorry!" "Don't be. It was the perfect time to try something like that. I guess you could feel that I wasn't on a hunt or anything." "Yeah, I felt kind of... wrong... invading your mind like that, though..." "Oh, I don't mind," he said quietly. "I can feel you sometimes, and I try to let you know I can feel you there." "I’ve felt that. Our connection is getting stronger, it seems..." A thought hit Paul. "Dean?" "Yeah?" "Ever wonder if maybe this connection has some greater purpose than great sex?" "First off, Paul, there are few purposes greater than great sex." Paul shook his head and smiled at the Deanness of that remark. "Second, I'm sure there is a reason, but until we know exactly what that is, I am perfectly content with our reason. You?" "Yeah..." he answered, with other things on his mind. "Where are you?" Dean struggled to remember exact details. He sometimes felt like the clichéd rock star who shouted, "HELLOOO MIAMI!!" when he was, in fact, in Dayton, Ohio. "Somewhere in Virginia? We got coordinates from Dad that will put us in New Hampshire before we can-" "Which is damned near Boston, you know," interrupted Paul. "Oh, is it?" Dean asked teasingly. "I didn't know." "Any chance of a one night's stay in our fair city? Or, more to the point, can I get you alone in my apartment?" There was an air of seriousness to Dean that surprised Paul. "If I have to drug Sammy myself." Wow. For Dean to even joke about that… Paul absently looked at the clock and noticed that it was fast approaching 5 AM for the both of them. "Will you call me when you are in town?" "Don't worry about that. If I have to pull a fire alarm at that SQ place to get you out of the building, I will get to you as soon as we hit the city." Paul heard Dean yawn. "Poor thing. Go back to bed. It's almost 5 AM." Through the yawning, Paul heard, "Yeah, if I don't get some sleep, Sammy will have to drive. And then it's Counting Crows and R.E.M. all the way to Jersey. Good night, Paul." "G'night, Dean." At this point, Paul was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He stumbled off to bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Dean slipped back into the motel room as quietly as he could and settled into bed to hopefully dream of Boston. He was almost asleep when he heard evidence of Sammy having a dream of his own. Dean bolted upright. He strained to see Sammy's lean form thrashing about. He was having a vision. Dean wanted to run to him, shake him awake, but he knew he should let the vision complete. He opted to stand near Sammy, ready for him to reach out for him when he woke up. He studied Sammy's face. The evidence of pain always killed Dean. He was breathing heavily and moaning. But the moans? Dean knew those moans. They were not the moans of immeasurable pain. Dean's face twisted into a look of confusion. If he didn't know any better, he would swear that his little brother was having the most painful orgasm of his life. Huh. OK. Maybe Sammy was on his own for this one. Just as Dean started backing away, a hand clamped on his wrist. "DEAN!!!" Dean grabbed Sam and ignored the pain of his brother's death grip on his wrist. "DEAN!!! VISION!!!" "Shh... Sammy... I'm here... Shhh... It's OK, Sammy. It's Dean. I'm here." Sam fisted Dean's shirt until the pain started to subside. Sam's eyes slowly opened and met his brother's with an unfocused gaze. "There we go," Dean smiled in relief. "There's my Sammy." Sam's vision was a bit blurry still as he came to full consciousness. Dean watched those green eyes go from hazy and unfocused to snapped open and alert. Sam wasn't speaking. He looked terrified, which immediately put Dean into Protect Mode. "Sammy! What's wrong?!! The vision? What happened? What did you see?!!" Sam looked down and then looked back up, giving Dean an idea of what he had looked like that night in Sam and Jess' room as he tried to hide the whole truth from Jess, because Sammy looked at him right then with a look that absolutely said, "I am lying." "I-I can't remember," Sam winced. "I-I just... I need a shower." He brushed off Dean and staggered to the bathroom, leaving Dean more confused and feeling just a little betrayed. It wasn't like Sammy to keep something like that from him. But he had to trust Sammy as much as Dean demanded trust from him. If it were really urgent, wouldn't Sam have said something? Dean heard the water go on and Sam stepping into the shower. Ok, what the hell could that vision have been about? Obviously it wasn't all bad. It was like... a wet vision, maybe? Did it have to do with Jess? With another girl? Why couldn't Sammy tell him what happened? What was- "Dean." Dean looked up, jolted from his worrying thoughts. He noticed that the heat of the shower had given Sam some of his color back. "I need you to trust me. I need you to understand without asking questions that I am not ready to answer, OK?" "Sammy, what the fuck is going on here?" "We have to go back to Boston." TO BE CONTINUED Back to Miracles Stories or Back to Brokeback Mothman |