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The Man Who Saved Me (Updated 30 Jan - Chapters 1 to THE END)


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This was a fun one. We get a little peek into Dean's past, as well as the set up for some fun next chapter.

Chapter 7

Human bodies aren’t meant to move at these speeds.

The wind thunders in my ears, blocking out all sound. The duvet wrapped around me doesn’t offer complete protection. It's barely enough. When Dean flies, he moves backwards, clutching me to his chest so that his broad back takes the brunt of the air resistance. If you’ve ever stuck your arm out of a car window while driving on a motorway, multiply that feeling by a thousand. I assume he’s using heat vision to keep me warm. Dean doesn’t like taking me on hypersonic flights, thinks it’s dangerous, but I managed to convince him. The benefits outweigh any discomfort. And if I need a break, all I have to do is ask. Even here, he can pick up my voice with perfect clarity.

I let out a sigh of relief as we reach our destination. My feet touch the ground, but Dean holds onto me until the dizziness has passed. When I look around, I can’t help gasping. In every direction, mountains strike up to the sky, rolling on forever until they fade like shadows on the horizon. Thick fir trees coat their sides, and the peaks are speckled with snow. I can hear the sound of running water, chirping birds, rustling leaves. “This place is beautiful.”

Dean puffs up his chest in pride. “Thanks. I thought you’d like it.”

“It looks like an ad I once saw for holidays in America. Montana or Oregon or something... I always assumed they photoshopped the hell out of those pictures.”

“Close.” He says with a raised eyebrow. “We’re in British Columbia. I wanted to show you something. You’re actually the first person I’ve brought here.”

With an arm around my waist, he guides me up a winding path through the forest. He looks so peaceful here, basking in the natural beauty, the warmth of sunlight on his skin. I can see why he wanted to share it. When our way is blocked by the fallen trunk of a colossal tree, Dean slips a hand underneath and casually tosses it through the air without a second glance. It lands far away with a resounding crunch. I’ve seen him make far greater displays of strength before, but he always seemed aware of what he was doing. Sometimes even nervous. But there was nothing nervous in what I just saw. To him, this is a place where he doesn’t have to care. Where he can drop the act and just be himself. There's no one to judge him or fear him or seek to manipulate his power for themselves.

As we reach the top of a hill, we pass through a narrow channel between two rocky crags. Then the path opens to reveal a hidden valley. And it’s beautiful. Dean turns to me, a twinkle in his eye. “You let me into your home. I thought it was time I showed you mine.”

I throw my arms around his neck, kissing him slowly and deeply. Not just to thank him for bringing me to such an astonishing place, or to thank him for trusting me with the knowledge, but for everything. For him. He lifts me with ease, settling me on his basketball-sized shoulders to give me a grand tour. On one side of the valley is a waterfall which glitters like fire in the midday sun. It hits the ground with a roar like thunder, forming a river which disappears into an underground cavern.

As Dean walks, I spot the most bizarre, incredible house I’ve ever seen. At its base is a traditional mountain lodge which appears to have been ripped out of the ground and brought here to rest up against a sheer cliff face. There are still pipes protruding from the earth around it. On one side stands a victorian-style stone tower, which must have been falling apart before Dean used metal plates to plug the gaps. A whole caravan hovers above the lodge, connected by a staircase which I presume Dean built himself. Rather than standing on supports, the caravan has been clamped to the side of the mountain by two steel girders which must have been shoved firmly into the rock. Another set of stairs leads to a make-shift room carved out of the mountain by hand, and then insulated from the open air with a large plate of glass, which Dean used his heat vision to simply melt around the edges to fuse it with the cliff. All in all, the house must have been enlarged ten or more different times over a number of years, each extension more unusual than the last. No architect could come up with anything like this. It would be impossible to construct without Dean’s power.

“Holy shit…”

“I hope that’s a good Holy Shit.” His tone is teasing, but I can sense a hint of anxiety running underneath it. Dean is worried I won't like what he made.

“It’s amazing, Dean. You built this all by yourself?”

He shrugs, making me bounce on his shoulders. “Kind of. I took a load of things that no one needed and just sort of… mashed them together. I like it.” Putting me down, he opens the door with a flourish and welcomes me inside. “Make sure you wipe your feet. Just because I can clean faster than the speed of sound, doesn’t mean I want to.”

I obey his request with a giggle. This room – the lodge – is warm and rustic. It must be obvious how eager I am to explore, because Dean gives me a light push on the back. “Go on. It’s not a museum. Snoop around all you like.” He kicks off his shoes, lighting the enormous fireplace with a flash of heat vision. “I’ll make some tea.”

I nod, but my attention is focused on the hundreds of objects coating every shelf, wall, table, and inch of floor-space, leaving barely any room to stand. There are foreign coins, sea shells, photos of Dean with strange people in strange places, old maps, models of famous buildings, volcanic rocks and pieces of coral, a shot glass from Rio, a pottery bowl from Mongolia, fossils and Egyptian relics. There’s a string instrument in one corner that I don't recognise, a stone carved into an Aztek head being used as a paperweight, a set of ancient Chinese armour leaning against a wall. Some of the things here must be worth millions, but most of them seem to hold value only to the man who collected them.

“I didn’t picture you as the sentimental type.” I mutter as Dean comes up behind me, holding out a mug.

“I’m not. But I used to be.” He motions to the lodge. “This was the first part of the house. I brought it here not long after I discovered my power. I was young and excited. And I guess I was confused too.” His smile fades. “I had just left my whole life behind because I was worried I wouldn’t be able to avoid hurting people. My abilities were too new. I couldn’t control them. I didn’t know what was happening, or what it meant. I wanted to stay home, work through it, but even if I was invulnerable, my family wasn’t. Anyone could use them to get to me. I had to leave…. So all my plans for life had gone up in smoke.” He shifts his gaze over each treasure without meeting my eye. “When I felt confident enough in my self-control to be leave the valley, I just flew aimlessly from place to place, meeting people, learning things, having fun. And I would always bring something back because… I guess… I hoped that if I piled up enough meaningful things together in a room, I could say I hadn’t wasted my gifts, that I wasn’t missing out on the chance to live a normal life.”

“And were you?”

“…Yeah. It took me a while to realise that. But I don’t regret any of it. I needed to see the world, become independent. It was a fresh start; gave me a chance to forget everything from my old life.” He says, eyeing me for just a second before looking away. “Almost everything.”

I’m starting to understand why Dean kept this place a secret. It reveals so much. Possibly too much. I wonder how hard he agonised over the decision to bring me. He must have known it would mean opening up his entire life to me, leaving all his secrets bare. I suppose it’s a sign of how important I am to him. When he called me different, perhaps this is what he meant.

But it also introduces more questions. How old was he when his powers manifested? Where did they come from? Why did he feel so worried about self-control – did he do something terrible? And what part of his old life did he cling onto, in spite of everything? I hope that the answers are hiding somewhere in this house.

Sure enough, the rest of the place is much less crowded. The caravan has been transformed into a kind of study, with lavish furnishings and an expensive-looking mahogany desk. There’s a computer which won’t turn on. Dean informs me that the generator has run out of fuel. My favourite room is the most recent - the hollowed out cave. It’s square, with dark rock walls on three sides and glass on the fourth, giving a breath-taking view of the Canadian mountains. With the exception of a thick white rug and a king-sized bed, the room is empty. “Going through a minimalist phase?”

“You like it?”

I leap onto the bed, bouncing twice before I settle. “I like it.” I bury my face in the pillow and take a deep breath. Dean’s masculine scent fills my nose, making me hum in satisfaction. “So you’ve never brought anyone here…”

“Right.”

“Did you ever spend the night anywhere else?”

“No, I used to sleepwalk as a kid. I didn’t want to accidentally decapitate someone.”

“So…” I nibble the inside of my cheek. “You’ve never slept with anyone?”

I don’t need him to answer. The colour in his cheeks tells me everything I need to know. “It’s not that I couldn’t find anyone. Trust me, there were plenty of offers.” He says defensively.

I never doubted that. If a 6’8” superhero with the physique of a pro-bodybuilder and the face of a supermodel can't get laid, there’s no hope for any of us. “Then why didn’t you?” I nod to his crotch. “Does that… work… you know? Like normal? It’s not gonna' cum fireballs or anything, right?”

Dean’s booming laughter fills the cave. He collapses on the bed next to me, wheezing. “No, Jake.” He takes a breath, pulling me to his chest. “I don’t cum fireballs. My dick works just like normal. Trust me. With you around, it’s been hard as a rock for the past week.”

Now it’s my turn to blush. “So…”

“Same reason I left. I didn’t know if I’d be able to control myself. Usually when a guy gets carried away during sex, that’s a good thing. With me…” He shrugs. “I didn’t want any shattered pelvises or ruptured organs.”

My heart drops at the thought of Dean refusing to ever take our relationship to the next level, out of fear of hurting me. “Have you even tried?”

He shakes his head. “Whenever I felt horny, I would just go to Antarctica.”

“You would what now?”

Dean grins at my reaction. “I don’t feel cold, and my dick is just as powerful as the rest of me. So I’d find a spot where the ice was thick and kinda'... sort myself out. It feels really nice.” Only Dean could describe penetrating rock-hard, blisteringly cold permafrost with his penis as ‘nice’. “Someday a scientist is going to discover a load of cock-shaped holes full of frozen superhero jizz.” He smirks, before frowning. “Actually, that could be a problem. I need to remember to go get rid of all that.”

“Look…” I choose my words carefully. “I know you pretty well at this point. You have incredible control. I’m sure if we just went slowly…” I settle a hand on one of his thighs, feeling the hard muscle ripple and flex.

“I don’t know…” He croaks as my fingers slip closer to his groin. Desire battles against fear in his eyes. His tongue slips out to lick hungrily at his lips.

“Don’t you want to?”

He glares at me like I’m insane. “Of course I want to.”

“I’ll be patient. If you feel yourself slipping, just tell me and we can stop. But I want to try.”

“It’s too risky, Jake.”

“Let me decide that. I’m the one at risk here.”

“No.” He says firmly, as my fingers creep under his belt to wrap around his dick. Holy shit, this thing is big. Even if he wasn’t superhuman, I’m not sure it could go balls deep without impaling me. But I hide my concern well, kissing up Dean’s corded neck. He growls, sending vibrations throughout my body. I can feel his resolve weakening. I squeeze his dick, which feels harder than stone even while flaccid. That does the trick. “Fine.” Dean relents. “But don’t blame me if this goes wrong.”

“I won’t. I promise.” It’s hard to believe this Adonis just agreed to fuck me. To lose his virginity to me. The idea of someone so beautiful being a virgin is a wonder in itself.

This is going to be fun.

 

 

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18 minutes ago, Ro20316 said:

Welp it does make u wonder how Clark has sex with Louis. 

This is too good my man.

I assume you meant Lois. If Clark is having sex with some dude named Louis, I need to start reading Superman comics again.

And thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying it.

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Chapter 8

“You ready?” He asks.

I’m standing in the middle of the room, my toes curling and uncurling in the soft rug, with Dean just inches away. He’s so big, so monstrously huge that I find myself eclipsed by his shadow. My heart is thundering in my chest and I’m sure he can hear it. A combination of anxiety, anticipation, excitement, and just a hint of fear is swirling inside me so rapidly that I almost feel dizzy.

But I know I’m not alone there. I’ve known Dean long enough to see through the mask of confidence he puts up, to the nervous boy beneath. This is his first time. He doesn’t know what to do, how to do it right, or even what right feels like. I can’t imagine what must be running through his head.

In a strange way, I have the upper hand. I have experience. And it’s up to me to make the first move.

Pushing up on the tips of my toes, I meet Dean’s lips in a kiss that makes me shiver with need. His taste is intoxicating. My eyes flutter closed and I lose myself in his embrace as he effortlessly takes control. My hands roam over the peaks and bulges of his shoulders, the striations running down his biceps. His arms close around me, squeezing just hard enough to make me ravenous. In response, I grip his hair and pull as hard as I can. Dean devours my lips, my tongue, and lets out a guttural grunt in satisfaction. He squeezes harder, and I wince as my bones creak under his effortless pressure, but two light taps on the back are all it takes for him to ease off.

I start to fumble at the buttons of his shirt. It’s difficult without seeing them. My fingers keep slipping. When I break off the kiss to see what I’m doing, Dean growls. He actually growls like a fucking lion. What I see in his face is alien to me. The cute, nervous boy is gone, replaced by something far more primal, infinitely more powerful. I’m staring at a beast crammed into the body of a man. If I didn’t hold so much trust in him, I’d be terrified.

His thick, veiny fingers grasp at the linen of his shirt and tear it off like tissue paper. Then that same hand closes around the back of my collar and pulls. At first my whole body is lifted off the ground. Then my arms are forced up by my own weight, and the shirt slips over my head. It’s a relief that even in this state, Dean didn’t want to risk hurting me by ripping my clothes off.

Standing toe to toe with our shirts off is almost overwhelming. Of course, I’ve seen Dean shirtless before, and he can look through whatever I’m wearing whenever he wants. But the sheer size difference is comical. His biceps are bigger than my head – literally. Every inch of him radiates power and strength. There isn’t an ounce of fat to be seen, and the muscles of his torso are so blocky and bulging, so striated, so veiny that I genuinely think they could have been carved from marble. His skin is totally flawless, perfectly tanned. But what gives away his humanity is the way those monstrous pecs ripple when he moves to pick me up. The twitch of the muscles in his forearm when he pulls me close. The gentle rise and fall of his abs with each breath.

Dean’s body is uniquely fascinating to me. Not just because of how it looks – though that is astonishing – but because of how it feels. I’ve been with a few guys, some of them pretty muscular. And the thing about muscle is that when it’s relaxed, it’s kind of spongy. There’s a lot of give. You can lie on a guy’s arm and use it as a pillow, because it’s only when flexed that they become hard. But Dean isn’t like that; he is totally, completely solid all the time. I can squeeze any part of him as much as I like, and there’s no give at all. Not a dent or crease. Even his lips move only when he wants them to - they’re not soft like every other guy I’ve kissed. It should be uncomfortable to be with a man who is so hard, but it isn’t. If anything, it’s thrilling.

Leaning back, I run my fingers through Dean’s hair. God, he’s beautiful. The animalistic lust is still there, but it’s tamed by one of those sweet boyish smiles. I look down at myself, so pale and delicate, a few old freckles leftover from my teenage years, a few scars from… The past. How on earth could someone like Dean look at someone like me, and feel desire? How could anyone?

“Hey. Look at me.” His voice is deep and gravelly. With one finger, he lifts my chin and fixes me with a stare that holds so much love, such overflowing adoration that I wonder if I’m dreaming. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You a mind reader now, Dean?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think, little guy.” He grins, before kissing my neck just below my ear. Then he kisses the top of my chest, then he lingers on my nipple, sucking and nibbling until I moan. His lips and tongue move slowly down my body to the lining of my jeans. This is uncharted territory and we both know it. With one last look at me for reassurance, he tears open my fly, causing the buttons to fly off with an audible ‘ping’. My cock springs forward, the head already moist with pre-cum. After gently tugging the jeans down and off my legs, Dean scoops me up and sits me on the edge of the bed. Then he kneels down in front of me, which still puts his height above mine, and takes my dick into his mouth.

Oh god. I’m not sure what’s hotter; the feel of his tongue and lips caressing my shaft, or the sight of those shoulders bulging as he licks. It’s not the best technique, and he’s clearly nervous, but that just makes it all the sweeter. “God, Dean. That’s incredible.” I lean forward, supporting my weight on his traps. He doesn’t even notice. When he tries using his teeth, I cringe away, and the sensation immediately stops. But my reaction when he sucks is a low groan. In response, it becomes gradually more intense, until Dean is sucking with a strength no human could match. It’s like every nerve ending in my cock is on fire, and I visibly shake from the power of it. “Oh Christ.” I moan. Dean lets out a deep, grumbling laugh that I feel vibrating throughout my body. “Stop, I’m gonna’ cum.” I demand, but Dean only sucks and licks and gropes harder in response. “Dean, stop.” Dean doesn’t stop. I try to shift away, and those hands close over my legs and pull me inexorably back. I realise there’s absolutely nothing I could do to get him to stop even if I wanted to – he’s in total control here. But I don’t want it to stop. I never want it to stop.

Sweat pours down my body as I explode in his mouth, and a scream erupts from my lips. I’ve never had an orgasm like this. It’s so powerful, I worry for an instant that I’m going to black out. Dean hungrily gulps down everything I’ve got, growling his satisfaction. And when I tumble forward, totally spent, he catches me in his arms, kissing me. I taste myself on his tongue, my sweat and my seed. “Not bad for a first timer, huh?”

I try to run a hand over his body, but it falls limp. “Now it’s your turn.” I say through heaving breaths.

“Maybe later.” Dean laughs. “You can barely keep your eyes open. You usually cum that hard?”

I shrug. “No, never. It’s you. All you.”

I close my eyes, resting my head on his deltoid, enjoying the thump of his heavy steps and the deep timbre of his breath. I’ve never felt so close to someone in my life.

“Hey. Wake up.” Dean whispers.

We’re outside now, just next to the thundering waterfall. The pool at the bottom is crystal clear, and I can see every rock and weed. “How long have I been out?”

“Just a few seconds. I thought you might want to clean up.” He turns his head, and I see the tell-tale red glow in his eyes. The pool instantly starts to bubble as a cloud of steam rolls up into the sky. As Dean steps into the water, still clutching me in his arms, I squeeze tighter to him. “It’s okay. It’ll only come up to your knees. There are no animals and you can see the bottom just fine. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

After some more coaxing, I agree to let him put me down. I hold my breath as my toes touch the water, then my shins, then my knees. And I let out a relieved gasp when my feet find purchase on the rocks. The water is warm as a bath, but the spray from the fall is freezing, so I sit on the bottom to keep warm. Dean settles down behind me, and uses a sponge to wet my chest and shoulders, then my hair. Combing it with his fingers, he sponges me down from top to bottom, alternating each movement with a kiss. Sunlight hits the rising steam and a rainbow comes to life above us. It’s like a fairy-tale.

Dean has always been a gentle giant, but it’s not just a fear of hurting me that I sense in the lingering movement of his hands. It’s love. I think we’ve both lived lonely lives, surrounded either by people we hate, or not surrounded by anyone at all. We were never understood, appreciated. We were outcasts. He for his power. Me for…

Well anyway.

After all that, it doesn’t take much for the floodgates to break. An empty heart only needs some hint of kindness, a wisp of affection, and it becomes obsessed with the urge to fill itself up. Make itself whole.

I’ve only known Dean for a little while. But I can tell right now, as I relax in his arms, as his heartbeat resonates through me and his lips kiss a path down my back, that he will be the man who makes me whole.

And I’ll be the same for him.

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This is such a sweet, arousing, and well-written story.  I almost swooned when you used "find purchase" in just the right way (though I think you might have meant to have an "and" between "touch" and "find").

Thanks for all the work you put into this!

divis24

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