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patchworkgargoyle · 3 months

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oc fic: if i could hold you for a minute

Have something I've been working on for a few months and that made me cry multiple times while I wrote it.

If anyone's curious about the context, I would be extremely happy to explain!!

Featuring Sam: original male character, @steves-strapcollection's. Dominik: original transmasc character, mine. Mentioned: Vinny, Tig (also Ger's); Willow (@tboygareth's); Pond (@stobinesque's) Rating: E || Words: ~7.8k || CW: major character death, semi-graphic descriptions of said death, hurt/no comfort, cunnilingus, penetrative sex Title from Francesca - Hozier

Sam’s knees ache. He’s known for a while he’s getting too old for this shit, and if anything’s going to remind him, it’s this. Shifting, he feels his shoulder brush against Dom’s. And though he knows it’ll give too much away, he still caves to the need to lean his shoulder against him.

It’s all he can do. His hands are tied, after all.

When Dom takes his weight easily, pushes back into him—a knowing, reassuring presence—Sam’s lips tick up in a brief, bitter smile, remembering how different things were barely a day before.

♣♣♣

Sam’s hands held Dom’s slender hips firmly against the door while he slowly pressed his body closer, effectively trapping him. Dom didn’t fight it. He arched into the weight of Sam’s body instead, as best as he could under his strong grip. Each point of contact made Sam crave more. And Dom was smirking in that infuriating way of his that made Sam hot under the collar, chin tilted up defiantly, head to the side, his stormy eyes dark and smug like a dare. A challenge he’d been issuing all damn night.

He’d managed to control himself, even as Dom hovered around him like an annoying goth hummingbird in the kitchen while Sam had cooked dinner. And because Dom could never keep his hands to himself when they’re alone, Sam had to endure every touch and caress without his resolve breaking. If he broke, he’d never get dinner ready.

Dom knew it, too, and proceeded to be a massive fucking pest.

He’d dart into Sam’s space and steal a slice of cheese, a chunk of tomato. Popped it into his mouth with a self-satisfied grin before Sam could slap his hand away and obscenely sucked his fingers clean. He’d had to re-tie his apron twice because Dom had sidled up behind him, wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist and distracted him by nipping at his ear so his clever fingers could loosen the knot. Sam should’ve learned the first time, but feeling Dom’s chest against his back, his teeth on his skin as he murmured about dessert, was too much of a distraction.

It was more annoying that Sam couldn’t even be annoyed at him. As much as he tried not to, every time Dom slinked up to bug him, touch him, tease him, Sam smiled, begrudgingly fond. It fed the desire slowly burning in his belly, the tension between them simmering like the sauce bubbling away on the stove.

Even dinner was a trial. Sitting across from Dom at the kitchen island—their kitchen island, in their new condo—and not even bothering with the dining table, they traded jokes and stories about their day and heated looks over their wine glasses. He’d wanted to kiss Dom so badly when he’d laughed loud and bright at Sam’s dry humour, black hair threaded with silver spilling over his shoulders when he threw his head back. Getting that sound out of him felt like he’d won the lottery, made him want to test his luck again, especially because Dom had this habit of hiding his mouth behind the back of his hand, or turning away, when he smiled or laughed that much.

He got shy. That was more thrilling than anything else Sam had ever done, no matter how often he’d seen it.

So once their plates were cleared and the last of the wine had been sipped, Sam’s resolve crumbled. He left their dirty dishes on the island so he could coax Dom off the stool and towards his bedroom for dessert, and this time, it was Sam who wouldn’t keep his hands to himself. He felt he’d earned that.

Now he had this addictive man under his hands, against his body, in their room, and Sam couldn’t get enough. He had to stop and stare at Dom almost in awe, taking in the mirth that wrinkled the corners of his eyes, the light flush on his cheekbones, his wine-tinted, kissed-red lips. Moments like this bowled Sam over sometimes; he had known Dom for so long that in one look he could catalogue all the changes that time had caused against all the things that stayed the same. And he loved every bit of it. Every bit of Dom.

“I know I’m pretty, my darling, but you’re starting to drool,” Dom said, looping one long finger through the simple gold chain around Sam’s neck. He tugged at it and Sam followed easily, thoughtlessly. “Why just stare when you could be fucking me brainless?”

Sam scoffed. “Christ, you're so full of yourself.” He wanted to sound annoyed and was only half successful, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“And yet.” Another tug brought their faces so close that each low, syrupy word Dom spoke made their lips brush together, just slightly. Temptingly. “I want to be full of you. Been waiting all fucking day for this.”

Dom's free hand reached down between them to palm at Sam's half-hard cock. He let out a small groan, twitching into the touch as Dom slowly stroked and squeezed him over his jeans. Deft fingers left light, teasing touches along his cock that only made him want. He needed skin on skin, craved the feeling of sinking into Dom's wet, warm cunt. More than that, he just wanted to be closer, always closer. Sam groaned again, this time frustrated.

“Then why are you teasing me?” he complained gruffly, though he knew the answer.

“Because it's fun,” Dom said.

Sam shook his head, unable to shake off his smile. “You’ve had your fun all night.” Leaning in, he brushed his nose along the tattooed column of Dom's throat, pleased when it pulled a shiver from him. The scent of his cologne—something musky and sharp, refined and animalistic—was strong here in the tender places of his body. Sam breathed it in deeply from his pulse point and hummed.

That Dom willingly bared his throat for him made Sam insane every time. It took over ten years to get through all of Dom’s carefully constructed walls and the reward was so sweet.

Sam took his time kissing up Dom’s neck, across his cheek. He poured his adoration into soft, scarred skin, letting Dom soak it up. When Sam reached his lips, instead of kissing him, he pulled back and smirked at the look of annoyance he got for it. Dom tipped his chin up, a silent question, but still Sam didn’t kiss him.

His smirk grew wider when Dom said, tetchy, “Do I have to ask?”

Sam shrugged. “I like hearing you say it,” he said. It took a lot of restraint not to laugh when Dom’s eyes narrowed further. He’d cave. Sam saw it coming in the twitch at the corner of his lips. Dom sighed.

“Please kiss me, Sam,” he asked, irritated and sincere, and like every time Dom had asked before, Sam lit up inside and immediately gave him what they both wanted.

Kissing Dom was the best fucking thing. Sam was gentle at first, basically chaste, kissing Dom again, and again. Slowly, deliberately, revelling in the feeling of his soft lips. Dom melted into him, matching each kiss with the same kind of affection. He gasped when Sam’s hands inched up under the hem of his untucked shirt, and Sam deepened the kiss, their tongues meeting softly, hungrily. The arousal burning in his belly grew steadily hotter as Dom’s tongue caressed his, their breaths mingling, kisses turning messy but no less thorough. Sam chased the taste of the Sangiovese that still lingered, acidic and sweet.

Sam grazed his fingers along Dom’s skin as each fiddly little button on his stupidly expensive black shirt came undone. Dom slipped out of it, letting it fall to his feet, and Sam began moving down, pressing his lips to the familiar angles of his collarbones, the planes of his chest. Flicked at one of Dom’s pierced nipples with the tip of his tongue and then caught it between his teeth and pulled; smirked at the small, cut-off whine that followed, then soothing him with the flat of his tongue.

When Sam dropped to one knee he looked up at Dom to see a flash of shock, quickly hidden by a complicated expression he couldn't make sense of.

“You okay?” Sam asked, resting a hand on Dom's thigh.

“Yeah…” Dom reached out to brush a few locks of hair away from Sam's forehead, twisting one around his finger to make it extra wavy before he tucked it in with the rest. The smile that broke out across his face was so painfully tender Sam couldn't help but return it. “I really am.”

He kept that hand in Sam’s hair and undid his belt with the other, the hiss of leather on fabric making Sam’s cock twitch as it reminded him of the times they used that belt in other ways. Dom tossed it out of the way though, and Sam helped him out of his pants, broad palm cupping his pale, wiry calf while he eased the fabric off of Dom’s foot.

Once he was naked, Sam’s eyes and hands eagerly followed the long, angular line of Dom’s body, stopping when he had his hands on Dom’s hips. Guided by the gentle hold on his hair, Sam kept his eyes locked on Dom’s as he kissed up one thigh and along the sensitive crease of his hip. He ducked down to tease the tip of his tongue along the seam of Dom’s cunt, finding him already slick. Sam groaned at the taste and delved deeper, making Dom gasp as he slowly lapped at his wet folds, then over Dom’s entrance to his dick.

“Taste so fucking good,” he murmured, and Dom huffed a laugh.

“You always say that,” Dom said like he was annoyed, but Sam knew it was fondness.

Sam smirked as he lifted Dom’s leg over his shoulder, making him shudder as he grazed his fingers along the inside of his knee before holding his hips again. “And I always will.”

“Fucking—oh—sap.” Dom went breathless when Sam dived back in, chuckling. Dom wasn’t any less sentimental. He was just as bad, if not worse, but Sam wasn’t going to interrupt himself again to say so when he’d much rather be eating him out.

He laved the flat of his tongue through Dom’s folds, just barely dipping into his entrance each time, toying with the hood and head of his perfect dick before repeating the process, tasting and teasing. He kept making these small sounds that drove Sam a little crazy. The grip on his hair tightened, the slight pain stoking his desire, and Dom’s leg started to squeeze his shoulder, asking Sam for more before Dom could even get the words out. But Sam kept it up until he heard a hollow thud and a frustrated whine.

“Sam, fucking—please,” Dom begged. Sam paused, glancing past the dark, trimmed hair he had his face buried in. Dom was breathing in a deep, measured way that Sam knew was his way of keeping level-headed, but his head was thrown back against the door and he covered one of his squeezed-shut eyes with one hand. Christ, he was gorgeous, and he always said please so prettily.

Sam wrapped his lips around Dom’s dick with a groan, sucking and licking at him. His hips tried to buck against his mouth but Sam held him still. The moans he was pulling out of Dom now had his cock achingly hard and he didn’t care. They’d get to it. Dom deserved all of his attention.

It wasn’t long before Dom’s legs started to tremble, the heel in Sam’s back digging in urgently. Sam slipped one finger into Dom’s cunt easily, then worked in a second, a third, until he was keening desperately as Sam found his sweet spot and didn’t relent. He was so fucking wet every thrust of his fingers made a squelching sound. Sam licked lower just to taste more of the familiar tang of him, dipped his tongue in alongside his fingers and made Dom heave a sharp breath. When he got his mouth around Dom’s cock again, Dom started babbling.

“Fu–fuck, Sam, darling, don’t fucking stop, g-god, I love you and your fucking mouth,” he said, panting, and when Sam gave an amused hum Dom whimpered at the sensation before continuing, “perfect fucking mouth, perfect man, shit.” Dom’s voice trailed off into frantic breaths. Each exhale carried a needy sound and his legs were fully shaking now. The praise made Sam giddy. Every time Dom called him perfect, said I love you, Sam wanted to hide, kiss Dom senseless, something. Dom loved him. Sam would never get tired of hearing it.

Slick began to pool in the palm of Sam’s hand. Nails dug painfully into his scalp. Sam knew he was close and eagerly sought the prideful high of making Dom come. When he did his whole body went rigid, a loud, deep groan rising from his throat as he twitched against Sam’s mouth and clenched around his fingers. Sam kept sucking and fingering him through it until Dom pushed him away with a shuddery gasp, his knees wobbling so much that Sam rasped, “C’mere,” and took Dom’s weight as he half collapsed onto Sam’s lap.

Laughing breathlessly, Dom tucked his face into Sam’s neck as they held each other. Sam kissed his shoulder and rubbed soothing circles over his back, more than content to let Dom collect himself even though he strained painfully against the fly of his jeans. But he’d wait, not expecting anything. He’d wait for him forever.

Dom pressed leisurely kisses up Sam’s throat before he reached his lips and shifted up Sam’s thighs to sit tantalisingly close to his dick. But he paused to look at Sam and cup his face in his palms, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, so openly, deeply loving that Sam felt… divine. Dom kissed him then and the whole world fell away. Sam couldn’t describe the way Dom’s lips touched his as anything other than devout. Breath hitching, Sam’s brows knit together as he held Dom close and kissed him back just as gently, as devoted.

“I love you so much, Samuele,” Dom whispered reverently when he broke away.

Sam kissed him once, his lips lingering before he confessed, “I love you too, Dominik, so much it hurts sometimes.”

“I don’t want you to hurt, my darling.”

“It’s a good kind of hurt.” Sam looked up at Dom, brushed his thumb over his bottom lip and said, “But another kiss could help.”

Dom rolled his eyes a little, but kissed Sam’s thumb through his fond smile. Wrapping his fingers around Sam’s wrist, he took Sam’s hand and kissed his palm, then his wrist, then the familiar knife tattooed on his forearm. He wondered if Dom could feel the way his heart beat for him under his lips.

“Better?” Dom asked, and Sam hummed thoughtfully.

“Might need a few more,” he said, and caught Dom’s lips in another kiss as he hitched him higher on his lap. Dom gasped into Sam’s mouth when his cunt rubbed against the bulge in Sam’s jeans. Groaning low and hungry when Dom started rocking his hips, Sam murmured, “Wanna be inside you, sweetheart, please.”

“Then we should get off the floor, unless you want to fuck me here.”

“You deserve the bed.”

Dom huffed, amused, but Sam tightened his grip around him and, easily keeping Dom in his arms, stood in one smooth motion despite his knees popping. The sound made Dom laugh more, mouth pulled into a teasing smirk as he said, “Watch your knees, old man.”

Sam scoffed but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he walked the short distance to the bed, knelt on the mattress, and carefully laid Dom out on the bedspread, following him down to lick into his mouth, slow and sweet, before he stood to undress. Dom shuffled up the bed to get comfortable, lounging against the pillows, legs spread to show off his soaked cunt as he lazily stroked his dick between two fingers.

He was so gorgeous, spread out on their bed like that, lithe and relaxed. Dim light from the window made his skin glow like silver, the deep blue of his eyes bright and intense as he watched Sam strip. He preened a bit under Dom’s attention, flexing as he shed his clothes and smirking when Dom’s eyes darkened with want. Sam sighed once his cock was finally free from his jeans, stroking himself just enough to make Dom lick his lips.

“Come here,” he demanded, stretching out enticingly, and Sam, always helplessly drawn in by him, obeyed.

Climbing onto the bed, he took the hand Dom was using to touch himself and brought it to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. It pulled a needy groan from Dom’s chest. He took his fingers from Sam’s mouth and wrapped them around the back of his neck to drag him close, and Sam laid his body along Dom’s in one sinuous line. Finally they were skin to skin and Sam’s nerves lit up at the touch. He asked, “What do you need, Dominik?”

“Need you to fuck me,” Dom said, rocking his hips up. Sam’s cock rubbed against Dom’s pelvis and he exhaled shakily, grinding down on him.

Humming, Sam traced his nose down Dom’s cheek, kissed his jaw. “Not gonna fuck you tonight, kitten.” He waited for Dom’s offended, bewildered noise before he continued. “Gonna make love to you.”

Dom glared and shook his head, unwillingly smiling the whole time. “Ugh, you’re such a romantic,” he complained, but there was a blush to his face that wasn’t there before. Sam kissed his cheekbones where the colour was darkest and felt the warmth against his lips.

“You love it.”

“Only because it’s you.”

Sam grinned, painfully fond. “Guess I’m pretty lucky then.”

It was so easy to slip into Dom. Sam barely pulled back, didn't need to look down; he knew Dom’s body as well as he knew his own. His cock slid through Dom’s wet folds, and Sam kept his eyes on him as the head caught on his entrance and he sank in. Dom’s eyelids fluttered and they both sighed at the feeling of being stretched open. Sam wanted to take it slow and savour this, to sink all the way into Dom’s cunt and stay there in that tight heat he’d been longing for all night. Reaching up, he brushed some of Dom’s hair out of his face, cupping his cheek as they moved together.

He loved watching Dom’s face like this. Every twitch of an expression, nothing hidden anymore between them. Dom couldn’t hold his gaze like this for the longest time. He’d eventually look away, make Sam break eye contact, anything to avoid being seen. But he didn’t look away anymore. And the way Dom looked up at Sam now, like he saw something sacred in him…

Sam had to kiss him. He pinned Dom down gently and poured every bit of love into the kiss, feeling more than hearing Dom moan against his lips. When he fully sank home into Dom Sam gasped into his mouth, Dom licking into him with a needy whine.

He stayed there, just like he wanted, feeling Dom clench and twitch around him. And Dom didn’t squirm, didn’t complain, even brought Sam’s hips in closer with his leg and kept him there, buried so fucking deep they could’ve been one person. They just laid there, surrounded by each other, kissing for so long that Sam lost track of time. He lived for this intimacy, the feeling of their lips and tongues, sharing adoring touches, and the way he fit so fucking perfectly in him. He really was at home, here in Dom’s arms. Anywhere Dom was, Sam wanted to be, always.

“My darling,” Dom murmured so sweetly that Sam had to kiss him again.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“If you don’t move now,” he said with a threatening tilt to his head, “I’m going to throw the worst tantrum you’ve ever fucking seen.”

Sam’s loud laughter shook them both, and when he did as he was told, pulling out deliciously slowly, Dom’s smile widened even as he hummed thickly, his head falling back against the pillows. “God, I love you,” Sam confessed for the hundredth time.

“And I love you. Now make love to me, darling.”

“Anything you want.”

Sam pushed back in just as slow, both of them sighing in relief. He kept up that pace, letting his pleasure build like warm coals instead of a blazing fire. Dom met his thrusts with languid rolls of his hips, his fingers raising goosebumps where they roamed over Sam’s body, only sometimes using his nails as more of a tickle than a scratch, making Sam shiver at the faint sparks left in their wake.

The only time they looked away from each other was when they kissed, messy and slow and needy. Sam wanted this forever. He drew back and saw the raw, staggering adoration he felt reflected in Dom’s face and thought of the rings he’d been looking at a few days ago. Taking Dom’s left hand in his, Sam brought it to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

“I’m yours, Dominik. You know that, right?” he said, grinding into Dom harder, deeper, his voice getting rough and desperate. “All of me, every piece. For as long as you want and past that, even.”

Dom’s mouth opened around a low moan. “I know, fuck, I know. I’ll want you for as long as I can fucking have you.” He pulled their hands to his chest, guided Sam’s face closer with an insistent hand in his thick hair, and looked up at Sam with possessive, defiant love as he said, shaky but unflinching, “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll die before that ever changes.”

Sam blinked away the sudden wetness in his eyes and caught Dom in a searing kiss. It felt like a vow. He couldn’t describe the feeling overtaking him, other than overwhelming need. Not just for Dom’s body, or the bliss of coming with him, inside him, but for everything he was, all that they were to each other. They were as close as they could possibly be and it’d never be enough.

“Sweetheart,” Sam rasped, almost pleading, but for what he didn’t even know.

“Samuele,” Dom said his name with a shuddery whimper. “I’m here, I’m yours. Fuck, please.”

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Sam hiked Dom’s hips up one-handed, his right hand still holding tight onto Dom’s left. The new angle had Dom crying out, his back arching, eyes going unfocused as Sam’s cock dragged relentlessly over his g-spot. Dropping his head, Sam rested his sweaty forehead against Dom’s, words finally lost to instinct and the need to breathe each other in as their lips brushed in an open-mouthed kiss.

Dom’s thighs began to tremble again and he babbled Sam’s name in between his whining and swearing. As Sam’s climax drew nearer, his slow, hard thrusts lost their steady pace. He was so close he shook with it, and so in love with the man below him he could burst, a dam about to collapse, ready to be swept away by the impending flood.

“F-fuck, Sam, my darling, my lo–” Dom gasped and cut himself off with a loud whine.

“Your love?” Sam said breathlessly.

“Yes—god–” Dom’s face twisted with pleasure, looking almost wounded by it, but he held Sam’s gaze as he panted and shuddered and bore down on Sam’s cock and sobbed out, “my love.”

He clutched at Sam as he came with a choked-off cry, like he couldn’t bear to have any space between them, Dom’s free arm wrapped around his shoulders and keeping their bodies as close as possible. His cunt clenched so tight around Sam that he hissed as he fucked him through his orgasm, tumbling right after him, the dam breaking as he spilled deep inside Dom. His hips twitched helpessly at the feeling of Dom's cunt fluttering in the aftershocks, pulling him in as if to keep him there. Not that Sam would pull out until he had to.

“Your love,” Sam whispered reverently, kissing Dom even though they were both gasping for air and trembling. Dom nodded, his expression heartbreakingly tender.

Slowly, Sam manoeuvred them so they laid on their sides, chests still heaving in an unsynced rhythm. Dom closed any distance between them, making sure to keep Sam inside for as long as he could, and snaked his arms around him in a firm hug. It made Sam chuckle weakly. He loved the rare times Dom got clingy after sex instead of needing space. Returning the embrace, Sam held him just as tight, giving him a bit of a squeeze as he nuzzled into Dom’s sweaty hair and kissed the top of his head.

It was so easy to drift off like that. Sam could feel Dom’s heartbeat in his own chest as it slowed, and even Dom’s aimlessly wandering hands eventually stalled as sleep came for him, body going lax in Sam’s arms. The last thing Sam saw before he fell asleep too was Dom’s beautiful face in the moonlight.

As always, Sam woke first.

If given the very rare chance, Dom could sleep in well into the morning. That was something they’d both discovered: how soundly they slept together. Sam was still an early riser, but today he dozed in and out, half-awake as he watched his sweetheart sleep peacefully, safely. Supporting his face with the back of his hand, Sam smiled softly while Dom breathed steadily and drooled a little on the pillowcase. He looked forward to teasing him about it, could perfectly picture the sleepy, bitchy glare he’d get for it.

Scant few people could say they’d ever seen Dom like this. It amazed him, sometimes, that he was one of them.

Sam lightly traced the sharp features of Dom's face with the back of his index finger. So much of him was sharp, pointed; honed to a knife’s edge out of necessity. In contrast, Sam thought of himself as a hardened, blunt force, like a sledgehammer in calculated hands. Fear and pain and need had made them both tough and slow to trust in their own ways.

But somehow, even if it took years, they did trust each other. They'd both rolled over, shown their bellies, and instead of being gutted they felt gentle hands and careful lips on their most vulnerable places. Sam had fallen in love so quickly with the man he’d found beyond sharp teeth and sharper words.

It was almost surprising at first how sweet Dom could be, once he shed his armour. He really was a sweetheart underneath it all. Mostly. Sometimes. Like sour candy. The thought made Sam’s smile widen, got a quiet chuckle out of him, and Dom’s brow twitched.

“Mmm… what’re y’laughing at?” Dom grumbled as he brought his sleep-clumsy hands up to rub at his face.

“You, drooling,” Sam said.

There was the glare. It didn't do much when Dom’s face was still half tucked into the pillow.

“Fuck off.”

As Dom stubbornly wiped at his mouth, Sam coaxed him across the sheets, pulling their naked bodies together. He was so warm as he snuggled into Sam’s arms with a lingering glare for appearance’s sake.

“G’morning, sweetheart,” Sam said, quietly but full of love as he pressed their foreheads together, and Dom’s façade cracked easily, breaking into a wide, groggy, brilliant smile.

“G’morning, my love.”

His voice was a soft rasp of deep adoration. It made Sam feel buoyant, helium-filled. He kissed Dom despite their morning breath; he couldn’t help it, not with the way his heart felt like it needed to crawl into Dom’s open hands. Dom smiled against his lips as he returned the kiss, before tucking his head under Sam’s chin and curling in close with a sigh. Sam pressed a kiss to the back of Dom’s head, nuzzling into his hair again and breathing him in.

They laid there in each other’s arms for countless minutes, sharing soft touches that grew less innocent as the sun rose bright and golden outside. Dom’s sigh when Sam slipped his cock into his cunt sounded like contentment, and they rocked together lazily, indulgently, trading kisses and I love yous until Sam came. Then he crawled down the bed and cleaned up his mess from Dom’s cunt with gentle determination until he came too with a quiet groan. Resting his cheek on Dom’s thigh with what must be the most corny, sentimental expression he’d ever worn, Sam watched his love’s breathing even out as he came down.

“Should I get breakfast started, sweetheart?” he asked, and Dom looked down his torso at him, chin and neck all scrunched up by the angle. Sam’s grin widened at the sight.

“Thought that was breakfast,” Dom said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Snorting, Sam nipped at Dom’s skin to make him squirm. Dom scoffed melodramatically and tried to move away, but Sam trapped him with his arms and kept biting his inner thighs until Dom was wriggling and cackling and shoving him away, swearing and yelling about being betrayed. Sitting up, Sam yanked Dom down the bed and leaned over him to kiss him quick and filthy one more time before he said, “I’ll get it started. Take your time, kitten.”

He left Dom still laughing in their bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before he went to the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth, then the kitchen to get the coffee going, smiling to himself the whole time.

He was so fucking happy. In his darker moments during the years Dom was gone, heartbroken and aching over the distance between them, he’d desperately wished they could have a life like this. Not that he believed they ever would, most of the time. The idea was enough to keep him going though, to keep him fighting for it by taking down every mark that Vincenzo said would put Dom at risk. That it’d happened, that they were here in their home—only half unpacked but still theirs—felt like the best dream he’d ever had. His only regret was that he couldn’t make this happen sooner.

A door clicked shut down the hall. Dom was up. Sam seasoned and whisked up some eggs, pouring them into a pan. They’d just started to cook when he heard Dom walk into the kitchen, footsteps quiet from training and habit. Sam jumped when he felt a pinch on his ass as Dom went by, and caught the mischievous smirk on his face when he turned to give him a scolding look.

“Do you want to eat or not?” Sam asked.

Dom grabbed the mug Sam left out for him, pouring himself some coffee and turning to lean against the counter. All he wore was a pair of his own black boxer briefs and one of Sam’s old shirts that hung loosely off his shoulder, the faded grey of it making him look soft in the morning light. Sam’s mouth went dry at the sight. This was clearly a targeted attack, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Your threats are very empty, my darling,” Dom said flatly, still smirking as he sipped his coffee.

“They are, huh?”

Dom hummed and shrugged, so Sam set down the spatula. Planting his hands on either side of Dom, he leaned into them to loom into Dom’s space, one eyebrow cocked. Dom, of course, looked like the cat that got the cream as he placed his mug out of harm’s way.

“Well, shit. Seems I’ve been proved wrong,” he said with blatantly false surprise. There was a tick at the corner of his lips, a flash of a genuine smile breaking through.

“Seems so,” Sam said.

When he reached up, Sam thought he’d be pulled in for a kiss. Instead, Dom gazed at Sam with a slight tilt to his head while he played with his hair, his long fingers straightening out the strands messed up by sex and sleep. Then he moved down to lightly scratch his nails through Sam’s beard, making him grumble and close his eyes at the pleasant sensation.

“Have I told you I love the beard?” Dom mused.

Sam chuckled lowly and said, “Yeah, every few months.”

“Ah. Good.” Dom’s imperious tone made Sam smile, growing wider when he felt Dom pulling him in for a kiss that tasted like their toothpaste.

“I’ve got eggs to scramble, Dominik,” Sam said, but he kept kissing Dom anyway, muffling his laughter.

“Then scram.”

Groaning in agony, Sam rolled his eyes and pulled away from Dom as he cackled.

They ate at the kitchen island again, almost mirroring the night before, but instead of sitting across from each other they sat side by side, shoulders brushing as they talked about their plans for the day. Dom had his foot hooked around Sam’s ankle the whole time.

Halfway through breakfast, though, Dom’s phone rang.

Vinny’s name appeared and, frowning, Dom answered with a short, “Vin?” Sam couldn’t hear what Vinny was saying, but he saw the instant change in Dom’s body language. His loose, relaxed contentment fled as he straightened up and his face hardened, turning grim. Family business, then. He asked a few terse, one word questions. One of Vinny’s responses made Dom’s eyes dart to Sam, something close to fear in the tenseness of his face, and Sam felt a chill.

“Pond?” he asked quietly.

Dom nodded, but quickly followed it with, “She’s alive,” and relief and dread both threatened to choke him.

“We’re on our way, Vin. Ten minutes, tops.” Dom ended the call and stood, beckoning Sam to follow him as he explained that Salvatore was holding Pond, Willow, Gareth, and a few others hostage to lure them to the vet clinic. They dressed in a hurry, grabbing their weapons and checking them over. He felt numb, mechanical. Sam kept his mind carefully focused on each task—grabbing his guns and extra ammo, checking the magazines—so that the images of River that haunted his mind wouldn’t overtake him.

“Sam.”

Dom’s hand covered the back of his own as he held his pistol in a painful grip. Meeting his eyes, Sam saw concern shift into raw, stubborn, pissed off determination on Dom’s face as he stood there fully dressed but still wearing Sam’s shirt, and if it were possible Sam loved him even more for it.

“We’ll do what we can,” he said, squeezing Sam’s hand, and Sam nodded. Dom knew there was no point in lying to him about this. There were never any guarantees in this business. But just having him at his side made Sam feel a little less numb, a lot more steadfast.

Pressing a quick kiss to Dom’s lips, Sam said, “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, darling. Let’s go.”

♣♣♣

Sam takes a deep breath, and takes comfort in Dom’s shoulder against his. But there’s something wrong.

This whole thing reeked of bullshit from the start, but now that Salvatore’s worked his way from Vinny all the way to Tig, and not one of the five of them has been shot, Sam knows something, somewhere, has been rigged. There’s no random chance in this, and that bullet may as well have a name carved into the casing. It sure as hell isn’t Salvatore’s, no matter what the slimy fuck promised when he started this “game,” and Sam’s next best guesses send fear clawing up his spine.

He turns his head and finds Dom facing Vinny. They’re sharing a look, and he knows they’ve figured it out, too. Shit. Shit.

Salvatore saunters away from Tig. “Wow, tough luck for me, huh?” he says. Sam can hear the insincere pout in his voice and wishes he could beat his face in. “Guess that's the risk with a game like this.”

Maybe he should be looking at Pond instead, but he can't. He doesn't want his last memory of his daughter to be of her horrified face. So he waits for Dom to look back at him, knowing that he will.

Dom turns after he has one more look at his brother. His eyes are as calm and blue as the sea after a storm, resigned in a way Sam hates. It looks wrong on the most stubborn man he knows. But the longer Dom looks at him, the softer his face becomes, crows-feet deepening in an expression Sam’s seen thousands of times now.

He knew what it was probably before Dom himself did, or at least before he could really acknowledge it. Love. Just seeing Dom look at him like this always made every set-back and argument and years of separation worth the frustration and heartbreak. It was all worth it, every moment, and Sam so selfishly wishes he could’ve had the rest of time to see it again and again. Pressing further into Dom’s shoulder, he feels him return the gesture.

Salvatore’s footsteps stall behind Sam and Dom, the distinct mechanical clicking of the revolver’s cylinder sliding into place, the final chamber inevitably filled with the only bullet. Sam hears a quiet, surprised chuckle. “Risk and reward,” he draws out the syllables like he's mulling them over, “that's been the game, the gamble, our whole lives. Only this time, I've stacked the deck in my favour. Luck doesn't fucking matter today.”

The words I love you are choking Sam’s throat, desperate to be said just one more fucking time, so he can be sure Dom knows because they’ve only been saying it for too short a time. He should’ve said it the first moment he thought it. He wants to keep saying it forever. He really fucking wants forever.

“Might wanna look away for this one, Sammy,” Salvatore says casually.

A flash of silver creeps into Sam's periphery and his heart plummets, lead-heavy.

And Sam, God help him, he does. He listens. He closes his eyes against the image of the gun being held to the back of Dom's skull.

♠♠♠

Dom’s already ran through every scenario he could think of. None of them get everyone out alive. It’s a fucking bloodbath at best. The civilians make it harder; easy weak points for Salvatore’s soldiers to take out. He can’t see any other way for this to go other than to let Salvatore’s insane power-trip play out.

And of course it’s fucking Russian Roulette. Such a cliché.

He can’t control the fear when Salvatore aims at Vinny first, the silver pistol buried in his golden hair. Every bit of Dom’s training and resolve go towards keeping himself still, but he instinctually pulls at the ropes binding his wrists anyway. The only thing going through his mind is not him not my brother please God not my brother—so he can’t watch. He can’t. He’ll do something really fucking stupid if he does.

Glancing at Willow instead, Dom sees they’re still miraculously keeping their cool—the only tell is the tension at the corners of their mouth—and wishes they didn’t have to be here for this. They’d been kept as far away from the business as any of them could manage, the one thing in Vinny’s life that wasn’t part of the hardships of the Family; it’s shit luck that this is their grand introduction.

Will makes the tiniest sound and Dom closes his eyes when the gun clicks, empty.

“You live to see another day, cousin!” Salvatore gloats.

Dom wants to gut him, split him open from the balls up, grin as his entrails spill out, hot and stinking, and feed his corpse to the pigs. Even so, he’s breathing steadily, pushing the panic into something useful, something that keeps him ready. But as Salvatore keeps going down the line, aiming that tacky revolver at each person and pulling the trigger with an anticlimactic click, the more he feels like being ready won’t do any good.

When he survives his own turn Dom barely reacts, too concerned that Sam is next. Any movement could ruin this, putting Sam’s life at even greater risk, but it's just as hard to keep himself composed when the trigger is pulled uselessly, unable to hold back the heavy breath of relief at the sound. Dom fucking aches with the need to hold Sam, for reassurance that he’s still there and alive beside him, especially when Sam leans into him.

All he can do is grit his teeth, return the touch, and swallow down the lump in his throat.

Tig is last, before Salvatore himself, because of course he is. Dom doesn’t watch the boy. Keeps his eyes on Pond instead as Salvatore makes some speech. The way Pond’s reacting, though, breathing heavily, panic and rage and realisation plain on faer face, Dom knows something is wrong with how Salvatore’s acting with Tig. And with the rest of the rumours he’s heard about that sick fuck, Dom makes a mental note to tell Vinny to be extra fucking brutal to their cousin when they get out of this.

If they get out of this.

No. When.

The telltale empty click goes off in the clinic and Pond flinches with a wounded sound before going slack with relief. Dom wishes he could’ve trained that reactivity out of her, hopes he’ll still have time to. Mourns, for the thousandth time, that he would even need to. She deserves a safer life than this hell that took her brother from her.

Dom takes a steadying breath and takes stock. If none of them were shot, that leaves Salvatore himself, as he’d promised. But there’s no way he’ll keep his word and blow his own fucking head off, not when he’s got this much of an upper hand. So he has a target. And he rigged the game to put on a show. The three best targets—Vinny, himself, and Sam—are lined up beside each other. Salvatore’s soldiers shoved them to their knees in that order specifically.

So it’s either himself, his brother, or his lover. Dom knows which of the three he’d rather it be, instantly. There’s no way Salvatore would listen if Dom started snarling at the fucker to provoke him to kill him, he’d know it was a last ditch effort to take the attention off Sam and Vinny; even if Dom was the target, Salvatore, the vindictive shitbag that he is, would just shoot one of them instead. That’s not a risk Dom can take. He has to see this through, however the cards fall, and that knowledge sits like a dead weight in his chest.

He leans further into Sam’s strong shoulder as Salvatore’s heels click slowly across the linoleum floor. Quickly, Dom looks at Vinny, who must’ve caught on too and is already watching him and Sam. Fuck, it’s such a relief that Kez and the baby aren’t here. That’s the only good thing, out of all of this: that Salvatore didn’t find out about that precious secret.

Dom shoots Vinny a sad, tired, wry smile, since he can’t tell Vinny he loves him one last time. Vinny’s eyebrows twitch upwards, a flash of despair swiftly hidden before he nods and turns to look at Willow. He knows, and that's enough.

And then Dom turns to Sam. His darling, his love.

Dom’s surprised to find himself so calm when he looks at Sam, but there’s nothing he can fucking do, no plan, no great escape. The only thing he can do is memorise the handsome face of the man he loves so fiercely, so deeply, that he wanted to spend his whole life with him. Fuck, Dom wanted that so badly. Wants it. He wants to tell Sam about the ring in his desk. He wants to tell Sam how much he loves him, that he’ll always love him, but there’s no fucking way words can even express that properly anyway, not here.

There’s so much sadness in Sam’s eyes, but even more love. It took Dom so long to see it because he’s a goddamn idiot, but it’d been there almost as long as they’d known each other. Love makes Sam’s eyes crinkle a little, the warmth of his gorgeous brown irises that much more intense. If only Dom could get that smile out of him one more time, the one that’s just for him. He wants to hold Sam, desperately, not just push a little harder into his shoulder and hope that he understands.

Salvatore’s droning on and on about luck as the revolver’s final chamber slides into place but Dom couldn’t give a shit. All that asshole wants is attention and Dom won’t tear his away from Sam, not for the world. When he stops behind them with a delighted little chuckle, Dom starts begging a God he doesn't believe in, one more time.

Please not Sam not my darling let him live please–

“Might wanna look away for this one, Sammy.”

Thank you, God.

The relief hits Dom hard when cold metal kisses the back of his head and he sags into it with a sigh.

I love you Sam I love you I love you I’m sor–

♣♣♣

Sam feels Dom's shoulders sag, hears his relieved sigh–

Cut short by a bang.

Dom–

The.

His.

The body.