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Three Days To Go

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“Take it,” Dean grunted at him. “Fucking take it.”

Like Sam had a choice; he was on his knees, pressed hard against the wall from his head to his ass, with his wrists pinned above his head.

Dean’s cock was rammed hard into his throat and, no matter how he gulped or struggled, he couldn’t find any air.

Just like before, though, Dean waited until Sam was on the verge of falling unconscious before he pulled out.

He kept Sam’s wrists pressed hard against the wall, but backed off enough to otherwise let him sag forward, panting and sore.

“Dean,” Sam gasped. “Dean, please.”

“Please? What is you’re begging for, Sammy? Come on, tell your big brother. If you’re good, I might even make it happen for you.”

Sam shook his head; since he’d come back to the bunker early that morning, to find that Dean was somehow a demon again, he’d been tormented with Dean’s body and his words.

He’d fought, of course, but all that had earned him was pain, the worst of it when he’d managed to rhyme off the rite of exorcism.

It hadn’t done a damn thing except piss Dean off, and he’d made Sam pay brutally for that one.

So, though the urge to beg was near overwhelming, Sam held his tongue. Whatever he asked for, Dean would give it to him in the way Sam least wanted, so it was better to say nothing at all.

That, of course, pissed Dean off anyway, and he spun around, tugging Sam to his feet and then threw him hard down onto the bed.

He was on Sam before the younger Winchester could struggle to his feet, straddling him, using his weight to pin Sam down.

Dean blinked, and then they were both naked, and Dean was pushing inside him.

It was agony. Dean hadn’t prepped him at all, and Sam felt like something was tearing him open the deeper in him it went.

He sobbed in pain, clawing at Dean’s hands where they pinned Sam’s wrists to the bed.

It wasn’t like he could hurt Dean, but he must have annoyed him because Dean’s hands found their way to his throat and squeezed.

Sam bucked up as his air was cut off, trying to dislodge Dean, but his brother laughed, and fucked him harder as Sam’s struggles weakened.

And then, once more, just when Sam was about to slip under, Dean let him breathe.

He slapped Sam a couple of times to bring him fully around, and then slowly leant forward until his forearms were braced on either side of Sam’s head.

It deepened how far inside Sam he was, and the ferocious burn was nearly more than Sam could take.

“Don’t know why I waited for this,” Dean said. His eyes flickered to black, and he grinned. ‘You’re a hot lay, Sammy. Especially when you’re trying to beg for your life.”

Sam stared up at him. Cas…. Cas would be back in three days. Like before, the two of them could take Dean, lock him up, find out what the hell had happened to suddenly revert him to demon status.

And then put it right.

But three days was a long time when you were trapped in an underground bunker with your now demonic brother who seemed to want to kill you.

Except Dean hadn’t killed him, not yet. He’d had opportunity, and made Sam fear that this time Dean actually would take him out, but despite dangling Sam over the edge a few times he’d always backed off at the last moment and brought Sam around.

But Sam didn’t know how long that would continue, and if he could take three days of this treatment.

It wasn’t like he had any choice though.

Dean tugged the pillow out from under Sam’s head.

“Maybe later,” he said, “I’ll lock you in that glass aquarium we found. Once it’s filled with water, huh, Sam? You’ll love that. Me watching you trying to break he glass, snap the padlocks, you pressing your face against the lid trying to find any air you can?”

“Dean,” Sam sobbed, his breathing still coming in painful gulps.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Sam. That’s it’s just three days. That’s all.”

Sam gave a muffled scream as Dean pushed the pillow over his face and held it there.

“But a lot can happen in three days, Sam. A whole hell of a lot.”