“Stop, please, please,” The woman sobbed as she is starting heaving and making strangled sounds in the back of her throat. A fresh stream of snot burst over the crusted layer on her nose as she shuddered,” …Stop! I’m begging you – Please! Fucking stop – God, help me!”
“He’d doesn’t have a lot to do with this, sugar,” Dean drawls, setting down the blowtorch and taking up a scalpel. He examines it in the light, admiring the shine of the blade,” He couldn’t give a rat’s ass about you or any other meatsuit that gets thrown into my circle.”
Without a doubt, by the time the woman was through with her ugly cry episode she looked like a homeless person with pink eye who got punched a few times in the face and was hit a monsoon. This was completely normal when one was being tortured. Dean snorted, twirling the scalpel between his fingers as one bored in class would fiddle with a pen. As he edged the sharp edge close to her neck, the woman screamed, saliva and snot bursting out of all crevices like a potato being overdone in the microwave.
Boy, what a scream that was. It made the hair strand straight up on the back of Dean’s neck. It wasn’t the loudest most piercing scream he had ever heard, but it had managed to annoy him slightly. It sounded like a scream of wild panic. A scream of hysteria and disbelief, bordering on terror. All the demon could care about was the fact that during the bitch’s hysterics, he’d been in the splash zone. With a sigh, he used the edge of his thumb to wipe off some of the saliva.
“I’ve barely done a fuckin’ thing,” Dean snarls, his black eyes drilling into the woman’s,” You’ve been on my rack for a total of 12 damn minutes, and you’re already blubbering like the blond-headed little shit from Dawson’s Creek.”
The demon lowers the scalpel, his lips parted in anticipation as the sharp point barely grazes the skin and he let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Then he senses another presence in the room, a pulsing azure expanse of soul, another demon, so he halts the scalpel just above the woman’s jawline. He gritted his teeth, his eyes like bottomless pools of darkness flashing in warning, as his lips curl menacingly into a snarl,” I’ve. Had. Enough. The next whiny intern that comes in here looking to me for a cookie and a hug, I swear to Satan, they’re next on the rack.”
“Dean, the ‘blonde-headed little shit’ you’re referring to is Dawson, hence the title,” Crowley purrs, “Don’t you know your onions?”
“Oh, it’s just…” Dean trails off, picking up his scalpel again, plastering a wolf-like smile,”You,” The Knight curled his lip in disgust, his scalpel stopping an inch from the woman’s jugular vein,”I’ve never actually watched the crap,” He turns his back to his superior, holding the blade of his tool across the trembling skin once more,”I can’t imagine anything I care less about.”
“Netflix...”Crowley protested, sliding his hand under the scalpels sharp edge right at the plunge,”...is the one good thing these bags of puss have managed to bring into existence. It’s one of the few human commodities that I yearn for.”
Dean pulled the blade from the latter’s hand, a gush of blood spurting out. The King of Hell casually pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away some spots of blood that had gotten on his face. The Knight makes a noise in the back of his throat, eyeing the woman on his rack and the metal tray covered in various razor blades, scalpels, rusty hooks, and such; all in a clutter in a mess of knotted hair and flayed skin. He was known for his messy work area, so it was hard finding something to quickly silence the woman, her feeble whimpers starting to grate his final nerves.
The demon finally decided on a rusty set of saw teeth, the handle absent due to the fact he used it as a makeshift iron knuckle in an earlier session. He set to work quickly holding the saw by the smooth end and slamming it down with his inhuman strength on the woman’s neck like a guillotine. The woman’s noises halted instantly her head rolling off the table onto the floor below, and the other demon stepped over it as it rolled his way.
“I mean,” The King of Hell states,” Have you never taken a moment to laze about and watch a few episodes of Orange is the New Black? You seem like a bloke that’s for that girl-on-girl stuff – “
“Not interested,” Dean grunted, slamming his blade into the metal tray, making some of the blood pooled inside slosh over the edge,” Now, what are you doing here?”
“Come on now, Dean. I thought we were friends,” Crowley purrs his red eyes flickering,” Can’t I just drop by your circle of hell and exchange words? Not fists; preferably only in the bedroom, if you’re kinky like that.”
Dean narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. He grabs a piece of the woman’s ripped off blouse to wipe the blood off his hands, remembers how she’d cried when he’d cut it, thinking his desires laid purely with her body. Fortunately for her, the demon’s sexual urges were a bit more complicated than some common svelte bitch with little to no ass or tits. He preferred someone a bit more male… as in someone with a dick, and an ass he could bounce a quarter off.
“I referred one of my most utterly exasperating customers to you,” The King of Hell admits,” He is an extremely powerful natural warlock that has been around since the 1700’s and is most likely the deadliest in the world.”
The Knight hummed softly, tucking the piece of cloth into his side pocket,” And what does this have to do with me?”
Crowley presses his lips with a slight frown, before taking a heavy seat on the side of the rack. He regretted this action the very second the bottom of his finely tailored pants squelched on what looked to be a pile of soggy ramen noodles but was more likely to be brain matter. The demon rolled his eyes, snapping his fingers, and for the first time in over a hundred years, the other demon could see what his rack looked like beneath the caked-on filth. Dean blinked. He blinked again. Again.
“Huh,” Dean stares with wide eyes and raised eyebrows,” I didn’t think there was an inanimate object beneath all of the… decaying matter. Now I’ve got to build it up all over again; meatsuit by meatsuit.”
The latter let out an exasperated sigh, and continued his nagging,” This warlock has summoned nearly every single high-ranking demon in the pit, but do you know what’s fascinating? Not a single damn soul has been collected, not even a contract! Or negotiations to start one – “The veins in his meatsuit’s neck were throbbing as he hisses,”He is somehow getting away with shitting on our trade, but still managing to wiggle out of making a deal!”
“Pretty sure this is below my payroll.”
“And I’m pretty sure you don’t have a choice in the matter. Yes, and now we have an immensely powerful warlock playing catch and release -- literally -- with demons,” The King of Hell massaged his temples as he seethed,” It’s a giant pain in the ass -- literally-- I need you to take care of it. Before others get the idea, they can get out of soul-trading by assaulting hell’s elite with a friendly weapon.”
Dean snorts as he shakes with amused laughter,” Is that what we’re calling ourselves now,” He inclined his head, and guessed,” Wait, so by ‘assault with a friendly weapon’ you mean – Holy shit, this guy is duping some idiots into having sex with him? He’s either crazy stupid or crazy smart, I can’t tell which…”
“Or just plain, old good fashioned crazy,” Crowley quips with one raised eyebrow,” Just do it. And by do it, I don’t mean do him. I mean do him in – “
“Fine, if it’ll stop badgering me.”
At the very moment, Dean felt the mental tug of a summon, pulling at him incessantly. Typical. Every time he had a few precious minutes someone wanted him. All he wanted was to be alone long enough to whip out a bottle of lotion and some tissues - not exactly a lot in the grand scheme of things.
“From one hell to another,” The Knight sighed, before succumbing to the pull of the summoning.
Immediately his eyes shifted to the summoner, not even noticing just where he had ended up. It was a young man with tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous. His eyes were a mesmerizing hazel like moss creeping over rich soil. A prominent jaw curved gracefully around, and the strength of his neck showed in the twining cords of muscle that shaped his entire body; strong arms, bold thighs and calves, a firm chest and abdomen. Over various parts of his body he had sigils tattooed in dark black ink, all from different cultures and religions. His eyes went lower –
Shorts, if they could be called even that, is what the young man wore as bottoms. He recognized them as what warlocks liked to call enhancement bottoms, but despite the lewd wording, they were not for that purpose; the material used was supposed to enhance a witch’s magical range, not their ass. Perhaps just a bonus? They were a light ochre, and damn near sheer, with black symbols painted over various parts of them. They only reached the young man’s mid-thighs but stayed loose around them almost like a skort.
Dean raised a brow, and locked eyes with him. The demon’s eyes contrasted greatly to the latter’s. “So, you must really be just a pretty face,” He winks flirtatiously as he motions around the room,” Because I’m not seeing a devil’s trap anywhere, sugar.”
The young man parts his lips slightly, the faintest hint of moistness on them, they twisted into an amused smirk,” I don’t need one, sugar – Nihil erit dimittere te ex malo sunt cervarum,” He expatiated before the latter could even blink, twisting his hands in the air. As words the left his mouth a pressing weight threw the Knight to his knees, and his wrists locked together as if held by invisible cuffs.
Dean raised his head, letting out an annoyed grunt, and refocused on the young man, searching for any kind of emotion in his hazel stare. Usually in a situation like this, there'd be lust, or anger, or anxiety – Nothing. Only a bland curiosity that set the demon’s teeth on edge. The young man moved aside, casually side stepping away from the demon as he begins to gather leaves and stems off of various plants from a large glass herb keeper. They played a sort of a quiet game for around three minutes, until the Knight got tired of waiting.
"I guess kink runs deep in your family," Dean drawled, quirking an eye ridge high on his forehead and rolling his shoulders to indicate the magical bond,” I’m surprised at the absence of a riding crop and bull-gag, a little disappointed if I’m being honest.”
The warlock didn't even acknowledge that he'd spoken. He just continued to work with the ingredients, unblinking, expression slack. The demon suppressed a growl of irritation. What the hell is wrong with this asshole? The young man suddenly turned around, his fingers grazing the side of the Knight’s jawline as his other hand ran through hair, plucking a few strands. The strands pinched between his fingers, he began throwing miscellaneous ingredients into a large copper bowl, chanting soft, little incantations in Latin as he did so.
“Take a picture. It might last longer,” He tried, tone as dry as he could make it.
That at least got a reaction. The young man shifted his weight to one foot and smirked humorlessly for a brief second,” Yeah. It might,” He threw a handful of discarded limbs into the bowl causally,” I only summoned you here for one reason: Sex. I need for you to fuck me.”
“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you, sugar,” Dean utters, blinking in confusion,” Did you say – Fuck you? Funny, I was going to say that to you -“
That was a lie. One common factor among all demons: perpetual horniness. Every demon in the damn pit was ready to sell their grandmother to claim a lithe sex toy as theirs. Then again, they were demons, they’d sell their grandmothers just to find out how many licks it takes to get the center of a Tootsie-pop more than likely. This susceptibleness to an open-legged human was a mental weakness really, something that made any lustful demon a dizzy, drooling mess. Not just any human would do, however, even demons had standards; damn picky ones at that.
“As if you don’t want it too. Demons are hornier than a blind lesbian in a fish market,” The young man rolled his eyes as he asserted this,” Quid-pro-quo. You help me complete this spell and, in the process, you get to have a roll in the hay.”
“A spell?” The demon scoffs and questions,” What kind of spell requires for you to get fucked up the ass by a demon?”
The young man raised on brow, and inferred,” I take you haven’t read that many spells?” He tilted his head and pressed his lips together,” The spell hasn’t worked with any of your…colleagues, so I’m assuming it’s because the spell calls for a higher-level demon. Hence, the need for fucking.”
“You realize of course I was sent here to kill you? Now, how do you think the guy who sent me is going to feel when I find out I nailed my target instead of well… nailing them,” Dean purrs as he leans forward against the bonds.
The warlock maintains eye contact as he utters,” I suppose he would feel screwed,” His lips part ever so slightly in a mischievous smile,” But, you don’t care, do you? The only reason he still sits on the throne is simply because you have no interest in it. Do you honestly regard him as your king?”
“No,” The demon growls softly.
“Then you have no problem getting some tail,” The young man persists.
The Knight chuckles deeply, and responds,”What if I instead choose to reach a hand through your fucking rib cage - “
Without even blinking, the warlock reaches his hand forward and grasps the crotch of the demon’s jeans with an iron grip. He pushes upward ever so slightly his face going into the other man’s as the demon lets out a shaking moan. The young man leans closer, so close that his pink, lush lips graze the latter’s ear lobe.
“If you don’t fuck me, you’ll never get to fuck anyone again...pissant,” The warlock threatens, his voice unsettlingly cool,”A few words from my lips, and your cock with shrivel up like a raisin. Your balls will just fall off like ripened fruit. And it’ll be that way with whoever’s bones you try to jump.”
Dean grins, his cock swelling against the warlock’s palm through his jeans. “So it’s a fuck-you or live the rest of eternity celibate kind of situation?”
“It would seem so, but-“ But before the warlock can further argue his case, the demon dove forward and pressed his lips against his.
At first the warlock turned rigid, too surprised to react. The Knight pressed his advantage, leaning a little harder as the latter squirmed. He knew how this worked from his own nights with other humans. They would grumble, he persisted, and then they would give in.
So when the warlock pressed against him, letting him take and demanding more, the demon smiled around the kiss. Until he flinched at the sharp pain spreading through his lip, wrenching back with a hiss. He tasted a tiny drop of blood and looked up in amusement at the young man.
A small smear of blood stained the warlock’s lip, underscoring his wide eyes, his quickened breath that wouldn't slow down. He flicked his tongue over his lips once. The young man’s eyes burned bright, and his rapid blinking made it obvious he wanted this. And his mouth was open in clear invitation, for another kiss, another bite...likely both.
“What exactly is this spell for?” Dean questions, his tongue gliding over his lips to swipe at the blood.
The warlock’s lips turned into a thin line.
“It’s like that, huh? Well...it’s going to be hard to fuck you bound like this. Unless you’re planning on riding me like a merry-go-round, sugar.”
The young man’s eyes are blown wide as he parts his lips, and then smiles widely. “Solvite.”
The feeling of being bound resided, and the demon stood to his feet. The warlock stood in front of him, his eyes still eerily emotionless. The Knight considered gutting him like a pig right then and there, but then he felt a painful throb through his much too-tight jeans. And then he felt his belt being slid out through the loops of his jeans, and he knew he was about to fuck a three-hundred year old warlock.
Desire overcame him then and Dean presses forward, let his tongue run over the warlock’s lips; eagerly pressing against them and asking for wanted entrance. When the young man didn't immediately comply, the demon simply nudged his legs apart, placing his left leg in between them and grind it against his lower abdomen in a slow motion; successfully earning a groan from him which left his lips slightly parted.
Dean took this opportunity to fiery intrude his awaiting mouth, first sliding his tongue against the warlock’s own, tasting the damp muscle and his mint flavored breath before exploring further to caress his palate. He tasted incredibly good, and it was almost the same kind of flavor he had imagined that the young man would taste like, however only ten times stronger and more effective as he felt sparks of pleasure being shot through his crotch.
The warlock then suddenly became weak; the gravity apparently becoming heavier for him as his knees began giving in from the constant added pleasure, leaving only the Knight to keep him in place by pressing body against body. Soon clothes are pulled from muscular bodies with force, buttons fly across the room, and Dean's underwear is ripped off of his body. When they are finally naked they’re rolling and tussling on the hardwood floor, bodies gleaming with sweat, their skin marked with scratches and bites.
“Are we doing this on the floor?” Dean asks.
“Can you make it to the bed?” Sam is smiling cheekily, his fingers grazing the head of the demon’s erect cock lazily.
“Fuck it!” The Knight snarls, grabbing both of the warlock’s long legs and roughly pulling him forward so that their hips are pressed together; the young man’s legs spread so far they nearly made a perfect line.
“No,” The young man hisses, his hand gripping the latter’s face,”Fuck me.”
The demon nearly comes right then and there, but instead shoots a wolffish grin,”Don’t you want to know who’s name you’ll be screaming all night?”
The warlock snorts.
“Dean, my name is Dean.”
“I didn’t ask. Are you just going to keep pressed against me all night long or are you ever going to -“
The warlock raises a brow, and scoffs,”Why do you want my name? What use would it be to you?”
“You’re going to be screaming my name all night, I thought I should offer you the same courtesy.”
The young man actually smiled at that. “Sam. It’s Sam.”
“Sam,” The demon almost purrs,”So do you have any thing or am I going in dry?”
Sam brushes his fingers through Dean’s hair before trailing his fingers down along his neck and his chest. “Give me your fingers,” Dean offered them forward, and Sam gently tugged the blood-coated digits closer until they were inches away from his moist lips,”Y-Your hands, they’re are covered in blood. Fuck, you’re covered in it.”
“A demon always is,” Sam’s eyes widened as Dean flashed his bloody smile and black eyes,”Don’t tell me you’ve come this far, had a demon crawl all over you, only to squirm over a little blood -?”
Before he could continue taunting, the warlock lowered his mouth over the demon’s fingers, effectively silencing him. After a moment, he begins to suckle on them gently, lapping up the blood from every digit. The young man then teasingly nibbles on them, his tongue swirling over the tips as the demon just sits stock still.
Finished, Sam pulls back, licking his lips. “There. All clean.”
The warlock licks his lips again, before whispering,”Praelio.”
Dean grunted in surprise as lubricant suddenly coated his fingers, but he recovered quickly rubbing them together before pressing two slowly into Sam. Sam relaxed back against the ground, moaning slightly when the demon brushed his fingers against that bundle of nerves. He was quick to pick up and moved his fingers over that spot again, moving his kisses up to the warlock’s jaw and then up to his lips.
Sam’s moan is swallowed by Dean’s lips, almost not hearing when the man mumbled against them. The demon’s eyes flashed black as he slowly lifted his free hand forward, his lips splitting into a satisfied grin as he watches the warlock’s limbs move of something that was definitely not of his own accord. The Knight moved his hand forward and slowly pulled his fingers apart, watching enrapt as the latter’s body responded to the movements. Like a puppet being pulled by strings, Sam’s legs spread further apart, a perfect, straight line now, his arms going above his head.
Dean takes this opportunity to readjust his body over his, his fingers still working him open. He then finally takes his fingers out, and the latter whimpers at the loss, his body still pinned to the ground by the demon’s powers. The demon rubbed what was left of the lubricant over his length, slicking himself up as the warlock watched him with a heated gaze.
Sam tried to move, but he was helpless against the telekinetic binds pining him to the ground so that he couldn’t pleasure himself in any way, shape, or form.
Dean chuckled deeply, lining himself up and guiding himself into Sam. Making a deep, guttural sound as he pressed closer to him. The wet head of his cock nudges against his pink hole and the younger man goes wild. A pained, yet pleasures cry flies past his lips when the demon slams into him in one hot, hard thrust. Dean isn’t wearing any kind of protection, so he’s sliding in and out of Sam, bare skin on bare skin.
Being gentle isn’t a demon-thing; especially not with the way Sam’s hole is clenching around his length. And the warlock somehow looks so damn good, red bitten mouth slightly parted in harsh breath, eyes bright with passion. The young man’s whimpers spur him on, so he pounds into him like he’s done to no man before, hitting his prostate with brutal accuracy. Sam pushes back against Dean to meet him thrust for thrust.
“I-I have to do the - ah - spell,” Sam chokes out, his eyes flittting to his arms,”I need you to let up, De.”
“De? Have I already fucked you senseless?” Dean teases, his lips moving down his muscular chest, attaching to one of the pink nubs. A fast pace of pull out and jerk back in was quickly established, and damn the noises that were coming out of Sam’s mouth.
The warlock let out a soft growl, and hissed,”Dean!”
“Fine, you damn stick in the mud.” The demon snarls, halting his thrusts just long enough to free the latter’s arms. He waves his hand and lifts the telekinetic bonds that pin him to the ground.
Sam sighs, and tests his wrists, roasting them and stretching his hands. He smirks, and begins chanting as he outstretches his hand towards the copper bowl. The copper bowl floats into the air, stopping to levitate just a few inches from the floor where the warlock is sprawled out. Dean is still inside Sam, and his hands are tight on his hips. He lets out an impatient noise and digs his nails into the bare skin.
“When you come, the spell will be completed,” Sam says, his lush lips parted ever so slightly.
That was all the permission Dean needed. A side of his lips quirked up and he pulled out and slammed in again. Thrusting a harder, the demon picked up the speed as long legs wrapped and tightened around his waist. He pulled the warlock even closer, sitting up a little taller, the new angle allowing him to nail his prostate easier. The young man made the sexiest of faces in the throes of passion, biting his lip and closing his eyes, it was all he could do not to beg for a round two.
“Oh go—Dean! A-ahh!” Sam was practically seeing stars, from all of the pleasure he was feeling. He was close. So damn close. Dean wraps his hand around Sam’s swollen length and starts jerking him off roughly.
“Fuck, I’m almost there. I’m going to make you come so hard, sugar. Both of us, at the same time,” Dean promises, his hand tensing even tighter around Sam’s length,”When we’re done you’re not going to be able to walk straight for a damn week. A month if I go any faster. Maybe you’ll beg for round two?”
“Don’t say shit like that.”
Sam tried to sound embarrassed, maybe even scandalized, but his facial expression says it all. He’s even closer to coming. Dean ups the filth and praise and starts to press kisses onto every patch of skin he can reach. They come at the same time, gripping at the other as they shudder and shake through their simultaneous orgasms, thick ropes of come spraying all over the warlock’s stomach and the floor. The demon pushes in as deep as he can and faintly mourns the fact that it’s over. The copper bowl bursts into flames, the heat so close that it warms their bare bodies.
Panting, Sam begins to chant,”Solutam me, ait, ista maledictio emittam furorem. collocavit me solutam.”
The flames rise higher, and the warlock winces, burying his face into the demon’s chest. The Knight does not even flinch, for flames are only a problem to those who are not used to burning. He then notices the physical intimacy of the young man, the way the latter grips on to him like he’s a lifeboat in a stormy sea. Instead of shoving him off, letting him lay naked, used on the cold floor, he pulls him closer settling his chin on top his head.
Sam tenses against Dean, and states,”I didn’t think demon’s liked cuddling.”
“I didn’t think warlock’s complained about ever getting cuddled.”
The warlock frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Warlocks are wart-nosed, hag-faced, cackling bastards riding through the sky on brooms wearing pointy hats. I suspect they don’t get laid a lot, much less cuddled,” Dean pokes fun at the warlock.
Sam rolls his eyes, and points out,”First: That’s witches. Second: Aren’t demons just poor, little tortured souls possessing losers that people wouldn’t notice if they go missing?”
“Not me, sugar,” Dean responds with a wolffish grin,”I’m a Knight so I never served time on the rack. I was created to break others, not be broken. This meatsuit is mine, and mine alone.”
The warlock laughs softly at that, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. “So,” He looks up, his hazel hues wide, and he suddenly looks so young,”Are you planning on sticking around or something?”
“Yeah, for a little bit. I’m still waiting for some answers.”
“What was the spell for? Did it work?”
Sam didn’t look surprised at the question, but he did look forlorn. As if he knew the answer would cause him a great amount of pain. “I’m over three-hundred years old, I’m tired, Dean. Years ago, I seeked immortality for a reason that I’ve long since forgotten,” He takes a shaking breath,”This spell is to break the one I casted so long ago.”
“You’re killing yourself,” Dean realizes.
“You said it yourself. You do have a reason to live.”
“The human mind was never meant to live much longer than a hundred years or so, I’ve more than tripled that,” Sam explains, his voice soft, thoughtful,”Over the years my mind has deteriorated to the point of where I can hardly remember anything of my life. Not even my last name. What’s the point in living for something that I can’t even remember?”
Dean nods at that. “Maybe I’ll see you in Hell. A good number of warlocks tend to end up there.”
“Doubt it,” And Sam’s voice is strained, like he’s holding back tears,”The spell didn’t work. Otherwise I wouldn’t be breathing right now, much less talking to you.”
The demon sits up, propping himself up on his elbow. “So, what? You’re just going to keep trying? Summon another demon to screw tomorrow?”
“You say it as if you care. As if you could care.”
The Knight runs a hand down the young man’s jaw, making him face him. “I don’t,” He states bluntly,”I’m just pointing out the flaws in your plan. I’m one of the most powerful demons. All of the other Princes, and Knights have been slain. It’s like you’d said, the only reason that I don’t rule Hell is because I choose not to -“
“Make your damn point, demon.”
“There is no demon stronger than me. You have no one left to screw,” Dean spat,”Your spell doesn’t fucking work. I would laugh, but -“
Dean got cut off when Sam roughly kissed him. The kiss was deep, and the demon could honestly admit he was surprised. The Knight comes easily, lips already parted and tongue sneaking out to push into the warlock’s mouth eagerly. They kiss for a while, roll around and tussle on the ground, kiss until they’re out of breath. The young man whimpered as the latter pinned him down again, leaned down until he lay across his body, fingers grabbing his hair and pulling until his breath choked out of him in pain.
“So that’s how it is? You realize that you’re cursed to walk this place for all of eternity, so now -“
“Ju-Just make me feel something else. Anything else but this,” Sam whimpers, gentle tears cascading down his cheeks.
“Why are you crying?”
“Don’t you know?”
“...Yes.” Dean yanks Sam forward for a kiss, grins almost wickedly when those lips open for him with a gasp. He dives right in, lets his tongue slide into Sam’s mouth like he owns it, deep and dirty with just a hint of teeth.
The demon pressed open mouthed kisses along the younger man’s collarbone and chest, one hand pumping his erection at a fast pace while the other laid on his neck. His mouth latched on to one of his nipples and he began to nibble it softly with his teeth. The warlock lets out a moan, one that is muffled by his hand as his cheeks turn a deep shade of red.
“Killing me here, Dean,” Sam moaned out softly, “Fuck, you make me feel so good...”
“You want this.” It was a statement, not a question.
“You need this.” Sam stayed silent.
The demon snapped his fingers and the warlock was lifted into the air by an invisible force, and then flung all the way to the other wall his bare ass smacking against it. As he glanced up, his eyes were wide, but there wasn’t a single ounce of fear in his hazel hues. Without a single warning or even a meeting of eyes, the latter’s length is between his legs, and the head is pushing against his furled hole.
“...I want to hear you say it.”
Sam still stayed silent.
“Say it. I’m not moving an inch until you do.”
The warlock fixes a glare on the demon, before conceding,”I need it. I need you, damn it. I need for you to take the pain away.”
With that, Dean moaned and cursed as he started to slam into Sam, the movements jerky and rough. Sam leaned his face into the latter’s neck, and wrapped his arms around his neck. The warlock suddenly felt the demon’s teeth bite down hard on the space between his neck and shoulder. The young man gasped, pushing up against the latter, but he only suckled at his neck.
“I’ll take it away. But only so I can take you. Again. And again. And again.”