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Twenty-Four Hours

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“Twenty-four hours?” Sam asked, a frown on his face, really not sure Dean was serious.

Dean nodded confidently. “Twenty-four hours. Whatever you want. Whatever you think will teach me what it feels like to not have control. You have permission to do it for twenty-four hours.”

“And then, what, you kick my ass?” Sam asked with a snort.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because that would make you forgive me,” he said with as much sarcasm as he could push into the words. “No. You can do whatever you think you need to with no consequences. I told you I'm sorry. If this is what it takes to earn your forgiveness, if you need me to know what it feels like, then you can have that. I'm giving it to you. I just want your forgiveness in return.”

Sam stood there staring at Dean for a few moments. “Anything?” he asked, still unsure. What Dean was proposing sounded too good to be true. No way Dean would let him do anything he wanted for five minutes, let alone twenty-four hours.

“Anything,” Dean said, his hands out to his sides, palm up, as if Sam could do anything he damn well pleased.

Sam considered it, wondering how he could possibly get Dean to feel a total loss of control. The first things he thought of made him cringe. They were too much. Decades in Hell does that to a person's head, letting the most horrific things come to mind before more reasonable options.

He looked down at the floor, trying to imagine what would upset Dean the most, what would push him, what would make him feel completely helpless besides being on a rack with a demon panting over him.

“Okay,” Sam said with a nod. “When do we start?”

Dean's eyes widened, but it looked as if he was pleasantly surprised instead of terrified, which was a good thing, Sam supposed. He wanted to scare the shit out of Dean from time to time, but he'd rather not make him piss his pants. Well, unless he ordered him to.

“Oh, uhm, okay,” Dean said, looking relieved. “Now. Let's start now. Get it over with. I don't like this weird shit between us. So have at it unless you want time to plan what you want to do to me.”

Sam shook his head. “I don't need time to plan,” he said, purposely keeping it vague, seeing if he could freak Dean out a little. Sam would never really harm Dean, but a little fear wouldn't hurt.

Dean smiled, but it was a little shaky. Good. He was a little scared. He deserved to be. “Okay. Let's do it.”

Sam glanced at his watch, noting the time so he could keep a plan in his head. “You don't do anything unless I tell you to. Understood?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. And I just want you to know that, even if I freak out over something, that doesn't mean I'm taking back permission to do anything you want. I already gave that to you.”

Sam grinned. “I know,” he said, watching Dean shiver a little. “You have one minute to find ear plugs, a blindfold, and the padded cuffs or you're gonna start the day off with a beat red ass. Go.”

Dean took off running at full speed, surprising Sam. He'd assumed Dean would hesitate at least a little bit. Maybe this was going to be fun.

Sam had no intention of timing Dean. Even if he made it back in half the time Sam had given him, he was still going to beat Dean's ass. Sam was hoping the humiliation factor would help him achieve his goal of making Dean feel as though he wasn't in control of himself.

As far as Sam knew, the last time Dean had been spanked, he was nineteen. Sam remembered like it only happened yesterday because he'd watched the whole thing.

Dad had wanted Sam to see the consequences of what Dean had done to keep Sam from ever attempting it, and it had worked well. Dad had put Dean over his knee as he sat on the couch in the living room of the apartment they were renting at the time. He'd bared Dean's ass and spanked him, using only his hand, and by the time Dad was done, Dean was a mess of tears and snot, hiccuping and shaking, swearing he'd never lie to his father on a hunt again.

Dean ran back into the room, items in his hands, holding them out to Sam. His eyes were a little wide and he was panting lightly.

“Put them on the table,” Sam said, keeping his face neutral as he watched Dean. When Dean finished and turned to look at him again, Sam shook his head. “You didn't make it back in time,” he said, then waited to see if Dean would argue.

Dean's lips tightened a little, but he didn't say anything. Instead he just stood there, looking to Sam for what was to happen next. Sam felt a thrill run through him. This was just the beginning, and Sam hadn't even done anything to him yet to test his resolve, but Sam was fairly sure he could get Dean to say uncle. There was no way Dean would put up with even half the things Sam had thought of while Dean was fetching the tools Sam had asked for.

But Dean didn't realize everything Sam was going to do to him. Sam knew Dean was just thinking he'd try a few things out to test Dean, see that Dean was sincere, then forgive him, but Sam needed more than that. He wasn't lying when he said he believed Dean didn't know what it felt like to be out of control. Not anymore. Maybe in Hell he'd known, but even then, he'd come down off the rack and held his own instruments of torture for a long time. No, Dean needed to learn a lesson.

Sam walked up to Dean, grabbed him by the forearm, pulled him over to the couch, then dropped down onto it, pulling Dean over his lap as he went. Dean let him, and he didn't even fight as Sam reached around and undid Dean's button and zipper. Sam yanked the jeans and underwear down to Dean's knees, then sat back.

Dean stayed still, looking down at the couch cushion. Sam gave him a few minutes to squirm, knowing just how much Dean hated anticipation. Sure enough, Dean peeked at him out of the corner of his eyes, then looked back down. Sam waited.

Dean took a breath, then turned his head to look at Sam. “Did you want me to ask you for it?” he said.

Sam was impressed, not only by the question, but the lack of attitude in his brother's voice. “No,” Sam said, shaking his head.

Dean nodded. “Okay,” he said, then turned to look at the cushion again.

Sam gave it another minute, then raised his right hand. He brought it down on Dean's left ass cheek hard, smirking when Dean's breath caught in his chest, suppressing a gasp. Sam watched as a pink handprint blossomed on Dean's ass.

Dean shifted on his lap, not trying to get away, but just squirming a little. “Uhm, Sam?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“I'm gonna be honest with you,” Dean said, sounding sheepish.

“Okay,” Sam said, still looking at his handprint.

“Unless you want me to feel out of control by making me come all over your leg, you should find something else to do to me,” Dean said, then squirmed again, letting Sam feel the hard length caught between Dean's belly and Sam's legs.

Sam frowned, turning to his left and finding Dean looking right back at him, a smirk on his lips. “I just haven't done it hard enough yet,” Sam said.

Dean shook his head. “You don't remember the last time Dad had me over his knee?”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I remember. You cried and promised never to lie to him on a hunt again. You hated it.”

“Yeah, I cried because it hurt,” Dean said, “and because Dad was mad at me, but I also came all over his jeans.”

Sam tilted his head. “Huh?”

“And I remember you had a boner,” Dean said, a little cocky.

Sam shook his head. “No I didn't. That was horrible. I hated seeing you cry, and I begged Dad not to do it in front of me because I knew it would upset you even more.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you didn't like that I was upset, but it didn't stop you from getting a boner, and it didn't stop me from coming all over Dad's leg.”

“Oh,” Sam breathed, then shook his head. “I don't really remember that part. I remember feeling really bad for you, and I remember being furious at Dad.”

“Yeah, you were, but he wanted to teach the both of us a lesson,” Dean said with a shrug. “It just taught us we both had similar kinks instead.”

“Please tell me it was just from the spanking and not the fact that it was Dad blistering your ass,” Sam said with a sigh.

Dean chuckled as he ground his erection into Sam's leg. “You worried about that when I'm poking my little brother in the leg with this?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We'd already been jerking off to porn in the same room, but I don't remember Dad joining in.”

Dean laughed. “No, don't worry. I didn't get off because it was Dad.”

“How did he handle it?” Sam asked.

Dean chuckled. “At the time, I was really embarrassed that I did it, but Dad was cool about it, saying something about physiological reactions and how your prostate can get stimulated from getting smacked on the ass and that I didn't have to be worried he'd think I was a freak.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Okay, then I suppose I have to come up with something else.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, unless you wanna forget about other ways of making me feel out of control and just go with this one. It would probably be more fun.”

Sam sobered a little. “I thought you wanted forgiveness.”

The smile dropped from Dean's face, then he nodded. “I do. I was kinda hoping you'd feel a little forgiving after some bonding over old times.”

“Have you changed your mind?” Sam asked.

Dean didn't hesitate. “No. I meant what I said. Anything you want, I can handle it if it means we can fix this shit between us.”

Sam nodded. “Okay.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

Dean winced. “Don't make me go through a whole bunch of shit just to tell me you still don't forgive me, okay?” he said, his voice quiet and more vulnerable than Sam had expected.

Sam shook his head. “I won't.”

The relief on Dean's face made Sam's stomach clench. “Okay,” Dean said, “then I can take it.”

Sam shoved Dean off his lap, snorting when Dean yelped and growled out “asshole.”

“Put the ear plugs in,” Sam said, scooting forward and taking the blindfold from the table.

Dean picked up the ear plugs and put them in, then stayed on his knees while Sam put the blindfold over his eyes and tied it securely around his head. Sam took the padded cuffs next and secured Dean's wrists behind his back. He helped Dean stand up, his jeans and underwear around his knees, then untied his shoes, pulling them off one by one and tossing them under the table. He pulled Dean's jeans and underwear back up and buttoned them, leaving the zipper down.

Sam took Dean by the elbow and led him away from the couch. He knew it would be disorienting and unnerving to traipse around the bunker with no sight and almost no hearing, so that's what he did. He walked up and down a few hallways and took him to a few different rooms before taking him into the kitchen.

Dean never stumbled, never pulled away from Sam, and never flinched. It was obvious he trusted Sam to keep him safe. Or maybe Dean was confidently walking even though he knew Sam might direct him into something because Dean was just that dedicated to fixing things between them. Either way, it made something in Sam's chest tingle.

Sam stood Dean in the middle of the kitchen, then let go of him. Dean stayed where he was put, not speaking or fidgeting, so Sam walked to the refrigerator and pulled out some ginger root. He grabbed a knife from the drawer and leaned back against the counter as he shaved the skin off it, Dean in his peripheral vision.

He wanted to watch Dean fidget, wanted him to be uncomfortable being left alone in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing what was happening, but all Dean did was stand there. He wasn't fidgeting. He didn't complain. He didn't even make small talk.

When Sam was satisfied with the size and shape of the ginger root, he cleaned up the mess and washed the knife, then walked up to Dean. Dean's breathing changed a little as he unbuttoned the jeans, but he didn't flinch. Sam turned him around and bent him forward, then pulled the jeans and underwear down to just below his ass.

The ginger root was tapered perfectly so he didn't need to prepare Dean. He spread Dean's cheeks and pushed it in. Dean grunted, but stayed still as Sam pushed until the notch Sam had carved into the end went into Dean, letting the rim of Dean's asshole keep the ginger root in place. Sam pulled the jeans and underwear back up and buttoned the jeans.

Sam walked to the sink and washed his hands, wondering if Dean was getting pissed at him for shoving something up his ass, and then he dried his hands with a dish towel as he watched Dean's face. Sam didn't know if Dean had any clue what was inside him, but he still looked determined to do whatever Sam wanted, so Sam took him by the elbow and started walking through the bunker again.

By the time they made it halfway up a flight of stairs, Dean gasped, his foot slipping off a riser. Sam had a good hold on him because he'd known Dean would need it, and he didn't let Dean didn't fall. Sam pushed gently, and Dean started up the stairs again, his breathing heavier than before.

Sam took Dean back downstairs, knowing the clenching would really heat up Dean's asshole. As they stepped down onto the first floor again, Dean was breathing through his teeth, his jaws tightly closed. Sam let go of Dean's arm and stepped back to watch.

Dean tried to stand still, but soon he was shifting, which told Sam that Dean had no idea what was in his ass. If Dean knew any better, he would've stayed as still as possible. Dean started shivering, a light sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin.

“Sam,” Dean said softly, his breathing labored. “I'm not going to ask that you stop this, but I wanna tell you something. This is probably the stupidest time to tell you this because I'm tied up and at your mercy with something burning my asshole, but I kinda don't want to see the look on your face when I say it. And I've already told you that you can do whatever you want to me and I'll take it if it means you'll forgive me.”

Sam didn't respond or get any closer. He wanted Dean to wonder if Sam was even in the room. He wanted Dean to feel helpless.

“I did what I did to save you,” Dean said. “And I'm not sorry that I saved you.”

Sam felt a flare of anger, an urge to choke his brother making him feel antsy, so he clenched his hands into fists and shifted in place.

“I'm sorry for what it did to our relationship,” Dean continued. “I'm really fucking sorry that I lost the trust you still had in me. It's the same thing we've dealt with plenty of times. I was scared of losing you, you were dying, and I did the only thing I could to save you. It was selfish. I'll admit it. I love you, and I'm scared shitless of living without you.” Dean chuckled. “And you'd never get this outta me without a blindfold on.”

Sam rolled his eyes. He knew Dean was scared of living alone. He'd never done it well. But for Dean to admit it was selfish on his part was a good sign. Maybe soon he'd apologize for having done it at all.

“You're probably more pissed than you were before,” Dean said, wincing and spreading his legs as if he thought it might make the uncomfortable burning in his asshole go away. “But I'd do it again if that was the only way to save you. You said you wouldn't do the same thing to me, but you've always been stronger than me on your own. That's not an excuse for what I did, and I want you to know that your independence, the way you can survive and move on, well, it's something that makes me really proud of you.”

Dean's voice was getting higher, more strained. Sam knew the ginger root was at the peak of it's effectiveness, and he was a little impressed that Dean could concentrate on something other than his asshole.

“And if you wanna beat the shit outta me and tell me you can never forgive me for what I just said, I wouldn't blame you, but it's something you needed to know,” Dean said, then went up on the balls of his feet and back down again, a whimper coming from his lips. “If you wanna hate me for the rest of your life, I'm still going to be happy that you're alive to hate me.”

Dean hissed, bowing his head as if he was having a hard time ignoring the ginger. He shook his head, then lifted it again.

“But it would fuckin' be awesome if you didn't hate me,” Dean said with a sheepish grin.

Sam walked up behind Dean and put his hands on Dean's shoulders. This time Dean did flinch, but he didn't pull away. He frog-marched Dean up the stairs and headed for the bathroom, Dean whimpering the whole way, and Sam wondered if Dean even realized he was doing it. After standing Dean in the middle of the bathroom, he pulled out a med kit.

“Really fuckin' burns,” Dean said under his breath, squirming in place.

Sam hooked a tube up to the faucet at the sink and pulled Dean over to the counter. Dean gasped, then sighed as Sam pulled the ginger root out.

“I don't know what the fuck that was,” Dean said, voice shaky, “but I really hope you're going to make it stop burning. I could offer you something in return. I kinda don't care what you ask for right now.”

Sam pushed on Dean's shoulders, bending him over. Dean let him, resting his chest on the counter. Then Sam started the water, getting the temperature just right. He made it cool enough to soothe the burning, but not so cold it would be painful deeper inside.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean breathed as Sam gently pushed the lubricated tube into Dean's asshole. He didn't fight it, but he did tense up.

Sam started the water, smirking when Dean gasped at the sensation of being filled. He kept a count in his head as the seconds ticked away so he wouldn't fill him too much.

“Okay, that's new,” Dean said, chuckling nervously.

Huh, a first for Dean. Sam didn't know that could happen anymore. He felt a sense of accomplishment. Dean hissed, pushing his stomach against the edge of the counter, telling Sam he was cramping.

“So, uh, thanks for cooling it down,” Dean said, hissing through clenched teeth. “It's still tingly, but the burning stopped.”

Sam snorted. He wondered how long it would take for Dean to begin a steady stream of babbling. He'd known Dean would have a hard time with the ear plugs, maybe even more so than the blindfold. Dean had always needed noise. Whenever he'd been hurt on a hunt, commentary from Sam would keep Dean calm even if Dean was in a lot of pain.

He reached over and turned the water off, then slowly pulled the hose out of Dean, giving him a chance to clench down on it. Sam pulled Dean up and turned him around to face him. Dean was panting, trying to bend over again, most likely because of the cramping, but Sam held him upright with a hand on each upper arm.

Even though Sam really wanted Dean to learn a lesson, seeing the strain on Dean's face, the tense set of his shoulders, the way he was clenching his teeth, Sam felt a little bad. Dean was trying.

But Sam wasn't punishing him. That's not what this was for. Sam wanted Dean to know that fear, the one that came with being completely at the mercy of someone else, not in control of your own body, and he knew he could give Dean that experience. There's still a part of him that thinks Dean will tap out, but he'd rather Dean hold on. He'd like to put all this behind them, forgive Dean, and move on, but he can't do that if he thinks Dean might do it all over again one day. And Dean already admitted not regretting doing it to save Sam. By the end of this, Sam was sure Dean would change his mind.

“Ah!” Dean yelped, his knees almost giving out as a cramp hit him.

Sam held on, but Dean had hit a point where it was too uncomfortable to keep standing. He was trying to stay up, but he was shaking too much, so Sam pushed him back, leaning him against the counter.

Dean panted, dropping his forehead against Sam's chest. “I'm tryin', Sammy,” he said, his voice muffled by Sam's shirt. “But I don't know if I can hold it. I'm sorry. I'll clean it up, but just don't get pissed at me, okay?”

He sounded desperate, and that's what Sam needed to hear. Dean wouldn't feel helpless unless he was totally dependent on Sam for even bodily functions.

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean hissed, his legs giving out. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's upper body, keeping him up. “Sam, I can't hold it,” he whimpered. “I'm sorry. I can't.”

Sam held him as Dean twisted against him. He could feel the heat of his brother's body against him. Dean's shirt was soaked with sweat.

“Ah!” Dean yelped as his body jerked, then he let out a sob. “I'm sorry!”

Sam winced, figuring Dean had just lost a little since he didn't hear a stream hitting the tile floor. He waited ten more seconds, just long enough for Dean to think Sam was going to make him stand there until he'd lost it all, then he moved, practically carrying Dean to the toilet and sitting him down.

Dean cried out as he let loose. “Oh, God, that fuckin' hurts,” he groaned. By the time he was done, he just sat there shivering and panting. “Thank you,” he whispered finally.

Sam pulled Dean's socks, jeans, and underwear off, tossing them into the corner of the bathroom. They were wet from the water that had leaked from Dean. Sam helped him stand, then directed him into the shower.

“Fuck!” Dean growled as Sam turned the water on, the stream hitting him on the chest, but as soon as he recovered from the shock of it, he did a slow turn, rinsing himself off.

Sam turned the water off and pulled Dean out of the shower, then grabbed the scissors from the med kit and cut Dean's shirt off, making Dean chuckle.

“You didn't like the wet T-shirt look?” Dean asked with a smirk.

Sam smiled, knowing Dean wouldn't see it. He reached out and took the ear plug out of Dean's left ear. Dean stood there waiting patiently, and Sam felt a flare of anger in his chest. He'd done quite a lot to Dean already and he still just waited for more.

“Turn around and bend over,” Sam said. “I want you to show me your sore, puffy hole.”

Dean obeyed him, but Sam saw the flush on his cheeks before he turned, and by the time Dean was bent at the waist, his neck and ears were tinged pink.

“Spread your legs,” Sam said, grinning when Dean did as he was told. Dean's hole looked sore. Sam knew it would be sensitive for a while because of the ginger root. “Did you like the ginger root?”

“You shoved a plant root up my ass?” Dean asked, almost sounding impressed. “I guess now I know why it burned,” he said with a chuckle.

“You wanna try it again?” Sam asked with a smirk.

“I'll do it if you want me to,” Dean said, nodding.

Sam frowned, shaking his head. Dean not only wasn't complaining, he was offering to do it again. He pushed the ear plug back into Dean's ear, then took him by the elbow and walked him into the bedroom, pushing him down onto the bed. He grabbed Dean's legs and rolled him to the middle of the bed, then crawled onto the bed himself.

He grabbed Dean under his knees and yanked, getting Dean on his back with his legs spread around Sam, then he leaned forward and lifted Dean's upper body with a hand at his neck, shoving a couple pillows behind Dean to take the pressure off his bound wrists and hands. He let go of Dean, then sat back on his heels.

He wished he could see Dean's eyes. He didn't think Dean was scared, and he really didn't want him to be. He wanted Dean helpless, not terrified, but Dean's breathing was normal and his body seemed fairly relaxed. He knew Dean still hadn't felt a loss of control yet, and Sam was even more determined to show him.

Sam ran his hands over Dean's inner thighs, smiling as Dean relaxed even more. Dean had always been very observant, using every sense at his disposal, and he knew that Dean was searching for any indication Sam wasn't mad at him. The gentle touch told Dean what he needed to know.

But then Sam gave Dean's thigh a quick squeeze, which had always been the signal between them that Sam was about to do something unpleasant and to get ready. They'd developed alternate ways of speaking when they were little. Every touch, every sound, every look could have meaning, and they knew each other well enough that even with everything that had happened in the last few years, that hadn't been lost.

Dean tensed a little, but stayed still. Sam reached out and flicked Dean's left testicle with his right middle finger.

“Ah!” Dean yelped, sitting up and breathing heavily. “Sorry! Sorry! I just didn't expect it! Sorry!” he said, lying back again.

Sam gave Dean thirty seconds, then flicked him again. This time Dean whimpered, his body jerking, but he managed to stay in position. Sam counted to ten in his head and flicked him again in the same spot, a little harder this time.

Dean yelped again, his thighs shaking as he fought the instinct to close his legs. Sam wasn't holding him down in any way, so it was all up to Dean to keep position. Sam waited twenty-two seconds this time, then flicked Dean's left testicle.

“Ah!” Dean yelled, then hissed through clenched teeth. He squirmed on the bed, but didn't get out of position.

Sam waited thirteen seconds, then flicked the left testicle again. Dean whimpered, his legs closing about halfway, then he forced them back open. Sam recognized the breathing technique Dean started up as one they used when dealing with an injury that needed stitching. That wouldn't do. Sam needed him to feel out of control.

So he reached out and took Dean's cock in his left hand, stroking slowly. Dean gasped, his mouth forming an O, making Sam chuckle softly, hoping Dean wouldn't hear it. They hadn't done something like this in a long time.

It had started off innocently as kids, jerking off to porn in the same room because they stayed in motels and there was no privacy. They'd always been close enough that nudity and boners weren't a shock anyway, and taking that next step wasn't even a big deal to them.

As they got older, they graduated to mutual masturbation, still not really thinking anything of it. Suzy Raines changed everything for them. She was seventeen and had a huge crush on both Sam and Dean. When Sam brought her home to the apartment they were renting after a date one night, he thought his plans for sex on the couch were ruined because Dean came in just as they were getting started.

Instead of getting upset and leaving or making Sam stop, Suzy called Dean over to the couch. He didn't hesitate. Why would he? She was fucking hot. When Dean sat down, Suzy took her top off, then took Dean's left hand and Sam's right and put each of them on one of her breasts. Dean and Sam had shared a quick look, both asking for permission and granting it in the blink of an eye.

They'd both fucked her that night, Dean taking her ass and Sam fucking her pussy. Sam hadn't even known before that night that he'd be able to feel Dean inside her, and it had been amazing. She'd gotten off on the fact that they were brothers and had asked them to kiss. The guys had hesitated at that, but after she batted her eyelashes and said “please,” they obliged.

It had been a turning point in their relationship, and both guys would have Suzy to thank for an on-and-off sexual relationship over the years.

But it had been nearly two years since Dean had touched him intimately. Sam figured they'd both moved on or maybe that they just had too much between them to ever get there again, but the way Dean's legs spread wider, the way he was breathing told Sam a different story.

And now that Sam was stroking him, he knew it was only awkwardness on his own part that had led to the lack of sex. Dean was biting his lip, his breathing changed, and his cock was hard and leaking in record time, all of which said Dean wasn't the one who had a problem with touching between the two of them.

Sam leaned over and pulled a box out from under the bed, never missing a stroke of Dean's cock as he did it. He opened the box and took out his ball gag, then replaced the box under the bed. Sam let go of Dean's cock, then tapped on Dean's lips, smiling as Dean immediately opened his mouth. Sam put the ball in Dean's mouth, then fastened it around the back of his head.

Dean's cock twitched when he realized what was in his mouth. Sam snorted with amusement. Dean had always been adventurous in the bedroom. Sam took Dean's cock in his left hand and started stroking again, but this time he used his left middle finger to flick Dean's testicle while stroking.

Dean's whole body jerked and he let out a muffled yell. Sam smirked, knowing Dean had expected that part of the play was over once the stroking had started. He set up a rhythm, jacking Dean five times, flicking one testicle, jacking him five times, flicking the other testicle.

His thighs were shaking, his body jerking, but he stayed in position, and he stayed hard. Sam wasn't sure how much pain Dean could handle and still remain hard, but he was ready to find out. He used more force the next time he flicked, and Dean yelped, his legs half closing because of the pain.

The next time Sam flicked him, Dean closed his legs with a growl, so Sam wrapped his right hand around Dean's balls and squeezed.

“Keep your legs open,” Sam said loudly enough to be heard even with the ear plugs in.

Dean whimpered, his back arching, but he spread his legs. Sam noticed Dean's erection had softened just a bit, but he didn't know if it was the intense flare of pain or the squeezing that did it. Dean panted through his nose, his shoulders hunched as he anticipated the next flick.

Sam made him wait as he stroked Dean's cock, getting it back to fully erect. Dean's stomach was quivering, and he whimpered as Sam used a thumb to massage the underside of his cock head. When Sam flicked him again, Dean closed his legs, growling and shaking.

“I warned you,” Sam said, then straddled Dean's right leg and wrapped his left arm around Dean's left leg, pulling it back and holding Dean open and vulnerable to him, then reached down and flicked Dean's testicles, alternating between them quickly, not giving Dean a chance to recover from each one.

Dean screamed, his body spasming, his toes curling, but Sam kept going. Dean thrashed, screaming harder, and Sam gave him four more good flicks, then stopped, letting go of Dean's leg and going back to stroking Dean. He lay there whimpering and shivering, but Sam was surprised by how quickly his erection came back.

Sam had plans for one more thing before giving Dean a break for a while. He straddled both Dean's legs after straightening them out on the bed, then started stroking faster, gently playing with Dean's balls. Dean's hips twitched as he tried to keep still. Sam leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Dean's lower stomach, grinning against Dean's skin when Dean made a noise that sounded like an aborted moan, his breath catching in his chest.

Sam licked and kissed at the skin, mouthing at it as Dean started thrusting up, lost in arousal and mindlessly reaching for the edge. Dean came with a shout, muffled by the gag. Sam took the gag off and dropped it on the floor before rolling Dean onto his side. He stood up and took his laptop out of his backpack, sitting down at the desk to do some reading.

It only took a few minutes for Dean to become uncomfortable with the lack of interaction. Sam heard him moving on the bed, so he turned and chuckled softly when he saw Dean scratching an itch on his nose by rubbing it on the blanket.

“I know you're not torturing me,” Dean mused out loud. “You and I both know the difference, and I can tell this sure as fuck ain't it.”

Sam turned back to his laptop, scrolling through random sites, only half paying attention to them. If Dean felt like talking, Sam would listen.

“But I think there's something you don't realize about me,” Dean continued. “You talk about control and how awful it feels to not have it, and the reason you're doing this is so I can experience it, to know what you went through.”

Sam stopped scrolling and turned around in the chair, straddling it. This was interesting, and he didn't want to miss any of it.

“It's not something new to me, Sam,” Dean said softly. “I've felt it more times in my life than I can count. To have someone else calling the shots and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. To know that all you are is what's in your head, and even that can be fucked with, and that thing you thought was yours and only yours, that suit you've been in since you were born isn't one of those things you can control anymore. I know what that feels like.”

Sam sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Dean still didn't get it. He was just trying to sympathize with Sam.

“I know you're sitting there with that frown on your face,” Dean said with a huff of laughter. “You don't think I get it yet. But I've been used before. More than once. And it's fuckin' scary. Scarier than facing down a demon with a blade when you're hanging on a rack. And I know that I'm responsible for doing that to you, taking away the control that you deserve over your own body.”

Dean shifted on the bed, stretching his legs out and getting as comfortable as he could given the cuffs holding his hands behind his back.

“I fuckin' hate the feeling of not being in control,” Dean growled. “Why do you think I act the way I do? Why do you think I want to be in control everything all the time? It's because the opposite feels horrible. But Sam, I swear I did it because I wanted to save you. I didn't do it to fuck with you, and if there was another way, I would've taken it, but there wasn't. You. Were. Dying.”

Sam rested his forehead on his arms, thinking about things Dean had been through. There'd been Hell, Purgatory, and plenty of other shit in his life, and Sam didn't even know half of what actually happened. Sam's stomach clenched as he thought about Alastair, about what a sick fuck he was, how manipulative he was, how long Dean was with him.

Sam's experiences in Hell had been different. Oh, they were still horrible, but Lucifer and Michael were so busy hating each other that they weren't focused on him. He'd been hurt in so many ways, but it wasn't a personal attack, at least on him. And in between fighting, Lucifer had been almost needy, as if he didn't know what to do and Sam was the only thing that didn't hurt. Even though he hurt Sam, it wasn't to tear him down, but a release of his frustrations. Sam didn't know what it was like to have the focused attention of a being set on tearing you down to build you into something else.

Dean had always been the type to walk around with an attitude. Everyone could see it. Girls had fallen for it since he was the cocky little first-grader. Boys weren't immune to his charms. And the older he got, the more experience he had, the better he was at reading people, using it. Of course Alastair would see through it all and know exactly how to tear Dean down to nothing. He would know how much control meant to Dean.

Sam stood up so fast he knocked the chair over and walked to the bed, feeling like shit. Of course Dean had known what it was like to not have control. But Dean had seen it as the lesser of two evils in Sam's case. How often had Sam made a decision like that? And just because he wouldn't have made the exact same choice Dean had made in this particular situation, who's to say he wouldn't make a different choice one day that took control away from Dean?

Sam sat down on the bed and reached out, gently pulling the ear plugs out of Dean's ears. “Keep your eyes closed. I'm going to take the blindfold off and the light's on in here.”

“Okay,” Dean said.

Sam pulled the blindfold off, Dean squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light. He reached out and took the padded cuffs off Dean, then gently massaged Dean's arms.

Dean grimaced, rolling onto his back. He looked at the clock and sighed, but he didn't complain about it. “I figured I'd be in the cuffs the whole twenty-four hours because you know how much being tied up freaks me out,” he said with a huff of laughter.

Sam shook his head. “No. You're done. The twenty-four hours just turned into five hours, and it's up.”

Dean's eyes widened and he struggled to sit up. “No! Wait! What happened? I did what you told me to! I let you do-,” he blurted, but stopped when Sam raised a hand.

“Calm down. I didn't change my mind, I just gave you a pass on the rest of the time,” Sam said.

Dean looked confused. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Sam leaned forward and kissed Dean's lips gently, then pulled back. “I forgive you.”

“Uhm, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but why?” Dean asked with a wince, and because Sam knew him so well, he heard the fear in Dean's voice.

“You did all that just to fix your relationship with me,” Sam said, gesturing at Dean's body with his hand. “You wanted it so bad, you let me do whatever I wanted to you without knowing how far I would go.”

“But that's not why you did it,” Dean said with a frown. “You did it to show me what it felt like to not have control, and I know you wanted me to admit that I was sorry for saving you. So why the forgiveness?”

Sam shook his head. “I was an idiot for thinking you had no idea what it felt like to not have control, and as you laid there helpless on the bed, waiting for me to do whatever the Hell I wanted, making you earn back my trust, I realized that I've made decisions for you too. Maybe I didn't make the exact same decision, but I'm not innocent in all this.”

Dean thought about it for a moment, and Sam could tell the instant it hit Dean that he'd been forgiven. His shoulders dropped and the tension on his face smoothed. “Really?” he asked.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I forgive you.”

Dean smiled. “That's all I needed,” he said, sounding relieved.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head as he remembered something. “So,” Sam drawled, “spanking, huh?”

Dean laughed, then shrugged. “Yeah, well, I noticed you kinda got a kick out of it too.”

“I can't believe you let me flick your balls,” Sam said, shaking his head.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I'd rather not try that again.”

“I don't know,” Sam said with a grin, “I kinda liked it.”

“Oh, well then get comfortable on the bed while I try it out on you,” Dean said with a smirk.

Sam huffed out a laugh. “That's okay.”

“Are we really okay?” Dean asked, suddenly serious again.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. We're okay. And we get to try out some new shit.”

“What did you have in mind?” Dean asked.

Sam shoved Dean backward, then pounced on him as Dean laughed. He kissed his brother, straddling him, then pulled back.

“Did you trust me not to really hurt you?” Sam asked softly, almost not wanting the answer. “Or did you just want my forgiveness that badly?”

Dean shrugged. “I figured you wouldn't kill me, but I wasn't sure what you'd do to me. You were really upset about it. But yeah, I wanted us fixed, and if you needed to do some fucked up shit to me, it was worth it.”

Sam nodded, feeling a small twinge of regret in his chest. He didn't want to apologize. Not for this, because he really did feel that Dean made a huge decision for him that he just shouldn't have. He also wasn't sorry because it had shown him a side of Dean he'd never realized was there.

He decided on a compromise. “I'm not sorry.”

Dean snorted. “I know.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “No, I mean I feel like an asshole for doing some of that shit to you, but I'm not sorry it got us here again.”

“I know,” Dean said with a smirk.

Sam's chest burned, but now it was for another reason. “You're an asshole,” he said with a chuckle.

“I'm also horny,” Dean said, “but I don't think you noticed.”

Sam snorted. “You kinda lost your erection a few times. I added spanking to the list of things you like, but figging and testicle flicking didn't seem to turn you on,” he said with a smirk.

“Figging? Was that the root up my ass?” Dean asked, then chuckled. “You didn't happen to look between my legs when that was inside me,” he said with a cocky look on his face.

Sam's eyes widened. “You liked it?”

“Well, it wasn't like the best feeling in the world,” Dean said with a shrug, “but it was an annoying tingling in my ass and yeah, I got hard from it.”

“What about the enema?” he asked.

Dean shook his head. “I wouldn't have minded the enema, but making me hold it and then losing some of it freaked me out. I didn't start getting hard again until you made me show you my hole.”

Sam grinned. “You liked that?” he asked, just so he could hear Dean say it.

Dean chuckled. “It was more of a turn-on that you wanted to see it, not so much that I like showing off my asshole to random people.”

“Okay, then pick one,” Sam said vaguely.

“Huh?” Dean said, an adorably confused look on his face.

“I did a lot to you today,” Sam said. “I think you should pick something to do so I can make it up to you.”

“You said you weren't sorry,” Dean said.

“And I'm not sorry about the results,” Sam said.

“Gotcha,” Dean said with a nod. “Okay, well, I'm hard, I'd like to come, and I've never had anything make my asshole feel this way before. I don't know if I want your big dick in me, but I would like to know what it feels like to have a tongue inside me like this.”

Sam moved fast, knowing how much Dean liked it. They were both big guys, and Dean liked the fact that Dean could manhandle him without making him feel like a weakling or demeaning him while he did it. Sam knew better than to underestimate Dean. He was shorter and had less muscle bulk, but he wasn't tiny or helpless.

Dean grunted as Sam scrunched him into a ball, pushing his knees toward his chest and leaning down to lick a stripe over Dean's crack, then pulling back to blow over the wet skin.

“Ah, yeah,” Dean groaned, “definitely sensitive. Feels awesome.”

Sam smiled, then sucked on Dean's asshole, pushing the tip of his tongue just inside. He'd always loved listening to Dean when he did things to him. He didn't know if Dean let go when he was with other people, and whenever they'd added a third person to their activities, Dean was quieter, but with Sam he'd make noises and talk dirty, which had always been a huge turn-on for Sam.

He pulled back and looked down at Dean. “Hold your own legs. I don't wanna do all the work.”

Dean snorted, but wrapped his hands around the backs of his knees and spread himself for Sam. “Eat my ass, little brother.”

Sam's cock twitched so hard he whimpered as he leaned down and shoved his tongue into Dean's hole. He spread Dean even wider with his hands, fucking Dean's hole with his tongue. Sam pulled back and smacked Dean's left ass cheek.

“Hey!” Dean yelped.

Sam grinned against Dean's skin and slapped him again, Dean's hole clenching around him. Sam reached down and unzipped his own jeans, pulling his cock out. Instead of stroking himself, he smacked Dean's ass again.

“Can't believe you conveniently forgot I came all over dad's jeans,” Dean grumbled, then gasped as Sam wriggled around inside him.

Sam pulled back, a frown on his face. “I can't believe you didn't clue me in over the years. How much shit have we done and you never once said 'hey, I like being spanked!'”

“I have to be a little mysterious,” Dean said with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a snort, “you're so mysterious.”

Dean frowned. “I thought you were making it up to me with your tongue in my asshole.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then nibbled on Dean's rim. Just as Dean moaned and closed his eyes, Sam smacked his ass again, and Dean's moan turned into a breathy whimper.

Dean was so lost in arousal, he'd stopped running his mouth, so Sam decided to push his luck. He slid his right index finger in along with his tongue. Dean didn't give him a hard time about it, so Sam pushed another finger in.

“Don't even think about doing it without lube,” Dean grumbled.

Sam looked down at Dean, then grinned. He used two fingers to play with Dean's prostate as he pulled back, reaching under his bed again for the box. He snagged a tube of lube, then dropped the box back onto the floor. He squirted some lube onto his cock, then some on Dean's hole and pushed it in with his fingers, playing with Dean's prostate some more.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm ready,” Dean said impatiently. “Fuck me already.”

Sam chuckled. “Yes, sir,” he said, then pushed into Dean.

“Oh, fuck!” Dean growled as he let go of his legs, planting his feet on the bed. “Oh, that's fuckin' amazing!”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, my dick is amazing,” he teased.

Dean laughed. “No, you idiot. You've gotta try this figging thing and then let me fuck you. It's awesome! Does it feel any different from your end?”

“You feel kinda tight, but I thought maybe that was because you hadn't been fucked in a while,” Sam said. “Have you? Been fucked in a while?”

“You probably should've asked that before you put your uncovered dick in me,” Dean said with a smirk.

Sam snorted. “Unless you've recently stopped using condoms when you fuck around, unlike the first twenty years of your sexual life, then I think I'm safe.”

“Crowley said the same thing,” Dean said.

Sam stuttered to a stop, his mouth open and moving, but nothing was coming out. What the fuck? Crowley?

Dean started laughing so hard Sam could feel the vibrations through his dick. “You should see your face!” he said.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You're such an ass,” he said, then started fucking Dean hard and fast.

“Oh! Oh, Sam, I'm so gonna fuck you like this,” Dean said, as he started stroking himself, playing with his own balls. “You gotta feel this.”

“There's still some ginger in the fridge,” Sam said, grunting as he fucked into Dean.

“Fuck, yeah!” Dean said. “Let's do that later!”

Sam huffed out a laugh, hardly able to concentrate. It had been way too long, and it felt too good to last. He'd started out doing this for Dean, wanting to make up for giving Dean a five-hour hard-on, but it felt so good to be inside Dean again, to be here with a willing Dean that he was already close to coming.

“You'd better make me come first, bitch,” Dean hissed.

Sam reached under Dean and pulled his left leg up and back, pushing it toward his chest and leaving the right leg on the bed. He held the leg with his left hand, then reared back and smacked Dean's left ass cheek with his right hand.

“Ah! Fucker!” Dean growled, stroking his cock faster and obviously turned on by it.

Sam continued fucking Dean as he laid down hard smacks, getting a kick out of the way Dean's hole clenched around him each time his hand connected with Dean's ass.

“I'll put you over my knee later,” Sam said with a smirk, then smacked Dean even harder.

“Fuck! Oh, f-oh! Sam!” Dean whined, trying to catch his breath, then just giving up and coming, squirming beneath Sam.

Sam fucked and smacked him through his orgasm, gasping as Dean's hole clenched tightly around him, setting off his own orgasm.

“Don't fall on me,” Dean grumbled, shoving Sam to the side, Sam's cock slipping out of Dean's hole as he went.

Sam chuckled, then grabbed onto Dean as he stretched out on his side, wrapping his arms around him and laying sloppy and loud kisses over his neck and face.

Dean pushed at him. “You really know how to ruin a good afterglow, you know that?” he said, sounding annoyed.

Sam laughed. “That's what little brothers are for.”

Dean snorted against Sam's shirt. “I really don't think that's what most little brothers are for.”

“Only the really awesome ones,” Sam said with a smirk, using Dean as his own personal pillow.

Dean chuckled, letting Sam snuggle with him. “Always fishing for compliments,” he said.

“You know you love me,” Sam said, deciding it was a good time for a nap.

Dean settled against him. “Yeah, I do.”

Sam was glad Dean couldn't see the ridiculously goofy smile on his face. He'd never live it down.

End