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There are many reasons Adam Milligan hates his father and just the Winchester name in general. One was because his father for most of his life was a no show. Secondly because it's his father's fault his mom was gunned down, because he wanted to play occasional white picket fence, and didn't tell them he was a Mafia don. He hates his brothers who got him involved in the life despite repeated attempts of Adam to get away once he found out.

But what he hates the family the most for is this. Being taken captive by the Angelus family. He was nineteen was the Angelus family kidnapped him, while aiming for his brothers, instead. Nineteen and finally away far enough with a new name, and no Winchesters on his trail. He was burning brightly through Pre-Med, aiming for Med and an eventual Doctors Without Borders, when he woke up to gunshots one night, Dean and Sam showed up at his doorstep, bloody, and turned his whole world upside down. And then the bastards escaped, and Adam didn't, and someone by the name of Zachariah had caught him, deemed him a good present, present for the two heads of the family. Michael – the older brother had taken one look at him, and not even caring about the fact that Adam was fucking wounded, had laid claim to him. That's what he's been ever since. A receptacle for his lust and substitute for the Winchester brother he obsessed over – Dean. And the Winchesters didn't come for him.


“You're late.” Michael says as he enters Michael's study not even looking up from the documents he's studying, but the gun trained on him motions for him to come closer. Adam's run all the way here from the other wing of the house, the moment he found out Michael called. He's breathless, panting, and considering he's still made it late: terrified, because it means he's going to be punished for this.

Gulping he closes the door, not bothering to lock it behind him – it's a rule, he can't lock the door whenever he's alone with Michael – and sends a prayer that Michael is in a good mood. And if he isn't, he prays that Michael's ire isn't Winchester related. That's when it means Michael's at his worse. He's far too rough, leaves too many bruises, leaves Adam far too sore.

“What are you waiting for?” This time Michael does look up, eyes harsh, his voice is far too level, and the temperature in the room feels like it shot up. Yep definitely Winchester related. Adam gulps, scrambling towards the desk and trying to make sure his hands aren't shaking as he unzips his pant, and undoes the buttons on his shirt.

The gun is still unexpected after all the times Michael's used it before. Adam's not sure if he'll ever get used to it. It's cold against his skin as Michael trails it down as Adam undoes his shirt, right into Adam's open pants making Adam shudder when it touches his cock (another rule, no underwear); and then right back up again until it's at his lips. He's almost hesitant when he opens his mouth and lets Michael shove it inside. Michael cocks the gun, and Adam forces himself to be as calm as possible, to not gulp or show any more signs of fear. Michael doesn't like him being jittery.

Adam waits for Michael's next move. It doesn't happen, but Michael simply glares at him. Adam realises exactly why Michael hasn't done anything yet. If his mouth wasn't busy around the nozzle of the gun he'd be hastily murmuring apologies. Instead he starts sucking the nozzle as if he were sucking Michael, eyes closed because he's half terrified he's perhaps got what Michael wanted wrong.

He's not even aware of how long he's been sucking the gun, when he feels Michael push him onto the desk, tugging off his pants. Adam doesn't offer any resistance, kicking his pants away as it pools at his feet, and settling himself on the hard wood. If he pleases Michael just right now, then maybe he'll be less rough with Adam today. Maybe he'll pull the gun away soon, because Adam's jaw is starting to hurt.

Michael pushes further, until Adam's on his back on the table, and hooks Adam's leg over his still clothed shoulder. His fingers are cold and slimy when they slide inside Adam, two at once, scissoring him, because Michael never has patience to stretch Adam slowly enough. Adam is the one who has to remember to relax, to try and accommodate.

But today is different. Michael keeps working his fingers in and out, slowly adds a third and stretches him. It's almost languid, and it confuses Adam. He gasps around the gun when those fingers are replaced by Michael's dick, and fuck despite the lube and the extra prep today it still burns.

His hands scamper for purchase on the desk – Michael would hate it if Adam creased his suit – as Michael leans over and starts thrusting in him with a brutal rhythm: hard, fast, deep. Michael's fingers dig into his hip leaving bruises. Adam tries to keep up, thrusting back despite how much it hurts, because he knows, knows Michael likes it.

Michael groans, pulling gun away from Adam's mouth, and replacing it with his own, as he nearly bends Adam in half. The kiss is all teeth like it always is, Michael biting Adam's lips and tongue, but it lingers for a long time, almost stealing Adam's breath. Then Michael's mouth is moving down over his jaw and his neck to leave angry red marks that Adam knows will be there for days. And honestly the only pleasure he's getting out of this is whenever a little of the fabric of Michael's suit brushes against his dick. Until he feels Michael stop and his hand roughly wrap around him and begin pumping him.

Michael stops that too, pulling away completely, and settling back down into his chair, shrugging off his blazer as he does so. He looks dishevelled, and the afternoon light from the windows shines on his hair like a dark halo.

“Come here.” He gestures for Adam to straddle him. Adam does, hiding a wince as he gets off the table, and being secretly glad that there's hardly any distance between it and the chair. His legs feel like jelly.

The leather is cool against his skin, and the chair feels restrictive. Adam's not sure exactly what's about to happen next, but for all it is he doesn't expect Michael's fingers sliding in him again. Prodding in like he's prepping Adam, and wasn't fucking him into the desk moments ago. When Michael finds that spot Adam sees stars, and his moan is cut short because Michael chooses that exact moment to cup the back of Adam's neck and swallow it down with a kiss that steals Adam's breath away.

This is new. This is very new. Michael never does this. Never even bothers about getting Adam off when they fuck. And if he talks, it's to make Adam reassert that he's Michael's property. Today makes no sense. Michael's still been rough, but still the extra prep, the kiss, Michael's hand, words, it's confusing Adam too much. Adam doesn't know what to do, where to touch, what's allowed, and what isn't.

He came in here expecting punishment, anger, and well not this. Michael isn't this way even when he's being gentle. It's like he's being loving, and it throws Adam completely off kilter.

Michael's fingers slide out, and both his hands come on Adam's hips, guiding them so that he can take Michael in again. The pace is slow, too slow, and Michael doesn't allow him to pick it up, until he hits the right angle making electricity shoot up Adam's spine. Then it's back to the breakneck one that Adam is used too, making Adam's blood rush through his ears, while Michael's hand goes back to pumping Adam.

“You are so beautiful like this.” Michael murmurs into his skin nipping a trail along his collar bone. His voice is breathy, almost a rasp, and Adam's hips arch as Michael's thumb brushes over the tip of his cock. Adam's close. He can feel his orgasm building up in him, and by the way Michael's other hand on his hip squeezes, he knows Michael is close too.

Michael buries his face into the crook of Adam's neck as he comes, groaning softly, hand not stopping. Adam follows soon after, sagging against Michael when he does. He makes a soft noise when he feels Michael's hand come up to his hair, raking a soft massage over his scalp, and guides his mouth to Michael's into another kiss. This one lazy and languid.

“As you can see, your younger brother is being treated perfectly well. More than well.” Lucifer's amused voice floats in through the haze of Adam's afterglow, shattering it; and when Adam looks up his gaze meets Sam's own wide eyed one.

Sam is here.

Sam Winchester is here.

Adam makes to move, pull away, but Michael's arm around him holds him firmly in place, and he can feel Michael's smirk pressed into his shoulder.

“Lucifer, I thought I said no disturbing us.” Michael's tone would sound perfectly annoyed to anyone who didn't know him.

“Sorry, but Sam here, insisted, and well I've been trying to pull him away for a while now. We'll be leaving now, won't we Sam? I think we've disturbed the happy couple long enough. See you in the conference room brother.” Lucifer's eyes dance in a twisted sort of delight, as Adam helplessly watches him steer Sam out of the room, and close the door behind them.

A while, Adam thinks, feeling his stomach drop. They'd been there for a while. And when he turns back to face Michael, Michael is still smirking, eyes glinting with a sick sense of victory.

“They got here later than expected, and were watching a little after you straddled me, and started fucking yourself on my fingers.”

Michael knew this would happen. He planned it. The kissing, the gentleness, everything slots into place. It was all an elaborate farce.

“Why?” Adam chokes on the word.

“Because,” Michael hums the word as he trails his lips over Adam's jaw, gentle and loving, and it makes Adam sick to his stomach. “The family would not be able to negotiate a truce with them, if I kept you. And I have no intention of returning you back to them.” His hand tightens possessively around Adam's hip, and his gaze goes dark and hooded raking slowly over Adam's naked skin, reminding Adam of the first night Michael laid eyes on him, making Adam shiver.

Adam hates the Winchesters for everything that's happened to him. Michael wouldn't have touched him even if didn't have Winchester blood in him. And now they've brought into his plan, and Adam's probably damned here to this for god knows how much longer.

But the saddest fact is, Adam hates the Winchesters, because for some twisted reason, even after all this, he can't bring himself to hate Michael.