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Sam came back to earth with a jolt as Dean’s hard hand slapped his upturned ass.

“Back with me, you worthless little slut?”

Sam grunted through the tight ring gag that was holding his mouth open wide, drool trickling down his chin and wetting Dean’s pillow. Behind him, his arms were pinned together with coils of knotted rope, his wrists further restrained at the small of his back and tied to ropes that went around his waist and between his legs, securing his cock and balls and keeping his cheeks spread.

Dean slapped him again, right on his exposed hole this time. A moment later Sam heard Dean spit and the wetness hit his hole, to be followed a moment later by another hard spank.


“Hurts?” Dean said, a sneer in his voice, and Sam heard the sound of Dean’s belt being yanked out of the hoops on his brother’s jeans. “Gonna hurt a lot more in a second, baby slut.”

The crack that resounded in the bunker was almost louder than Sam’s muffled cry as the belt was lashed hard across his bare ass.

“Like that? Want more?”

Sam nodded frantically, hair tumbling into his eyes.

Dean grabbed a messy handful of Sam’s hair and yanked his head up. “I asked you a question, bitch.”

“Yes,” Sam said, except it sound more like “eh,” given his current inability to speak.

“Good boy.” Dean released Sam’s hair, running a hand quickly through it, pushing it back over Sam’s sweaty forehead. “Gonna give you what you asked for.”

The belt came down in three quick lashes, the force of the blows shoving Sam forward, his face buried in the pillows. His frogtied legs were useless.

Dean jerked his head back by the hair again. “You need to be reminded to thank me?”

“’ank ’oo.”

“Good. Let’s put that worthless hole in your face to some use, huh? You wanna be good for something?”

Sam nodded as much as Dean’s grip on his hair would allow.

Dean grabbed his own cock with his free hand. He was still completely dressed, his jeans pulled open just enough to free his cock. He slapped Sam’s cheek with it. “This what you want, you little bitch? You useless, dirty little whore? Huh?” He punctuated each word with a bitch-slap, slapping Sam with his cock, rubbing the hard length against his face until Sam’s skin was covered with his brother’s pre-come. “Fuck, look at you. All you’re good for, right? Trussed up like a fucking pig, holes good and wet. All ready to be used. Suck my balls, bitch. Fucking suck them. There you go.”

Sam panted with Dean’s sac stuffed into his mouth, the base of Dean’s cock pressed up against his nose. Dean grabbed two handfuls of silky hair and pulled it over Sam’s face, fucking his cock up into it.

“Your hole twitching yet?” Sam didn’t know when Dean had grabbed the belt again, but it came down hard between his ass cheeks, landing squarely on his hole.


“Love the sounds you make.” Dean moved back and fucked forward again, shoving his cock into Sam’s helplessly held-open mouth this time. “You sound like a bitch in heat, you filthy little whore.” Grabbing the back of Sam’s head, Dean began thrusting hard into Sam’s throat, ignoring the gagging sounds he made. “You like this, don’t you? Like being useful for once.”

Sam grunted again, head bouncing on Dean’s cock.

“Get off on it. Go on, use that pillow under your pathetic little dick, ’cause I sure as hell ain’t gonna touch that worthless little thing.”

Crack! The belt came down on his hole again and Sam cried out around Dean’s cock. “Do it! Now!”

Sam sobbed against Dean’s crotch as he obeyed mindlessly, hips humping frantically against the pillow that Dean had bunched up between his legs. The soft cotton felt like heaven under his bare, straining cock. He heard Dean gasp as his brother pulled out of his mouth and jerked himself off, coming all over Sam’s face and hair. Another lash of the belt against his hole was all it took for Sam to spill against the pillow, rutting hard as Dean belted his ass while he rode out his orgasm.





Sam lifted his head, squinting. The harsh lights had been turned off, only the lamp on Dean’s desk still on. He could only dimly remember Dean starting to untie him after he’d come down from his high, and he’d let himself sink into exhausted sleep even before Dean had undone all his restraints.

He was still naked but his body felt clean and smelt of the lime-scented liquid soap he liked to use, strands of his hair still damp where Dean must’ve wiped it clean.

“Hey.” Dean came back into the room, carrying a tall, cold glass of orange juice. Sam sat up against the pillows as Dean sat down and handed him the glass.

He drank half of it in two big gulps. “Thanks, Dean.”

Dean made a vague sound, not really looking at Sam. Sam put his hand on Dean’s knee. “Hey. You OK?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine, Dean. That was… You were awesome.” He drained the remaining juice and put the glass on the night-table. “Come here.”

Dean came easily into Sam’s arms, letting Sam pull them both down until they were wrapped around each other, Sam’s face pressed into Dean’s neck and Dean’s fingers combing back through Sam’s hair over and over in slow, soothing strokes.

“You know I wouldn’t…” Dean trailed off, his face buried in Sam’s hair. “You know I didn’t mean any of that, right? I only said it because you…”

“Because I asked for it.” Sam pulled back a little, one of his hands pressed over Dean’s tattoo, the other reaching up to cup his face. “Because I get off on it.”

Dean was finally looking at him, eyes scanning Sam’s face for any sign of hurt, and Sam felt that same old warmth inside him every single time Dean looked at him like that. “Because you’re the only one I trust enough to do this for me.”

Dean didn’t say anything for a while, but his gaze was still on Sam’s face, his fingers still tangled in Sam’s hair. “I wouldn’t do it,” he said finally, “if you weren’t worth everything. If you weren’t worth the whole fucking world and then some, Sammy.” He leaned in closer and gave Sam a brief, sweet kiss that had Sam winding his arms around Dean’s neck to hold him in place for more.

“You owe me,” Sam began when they finally pulled apart, and saw the beginnings of panic on Dean’s face, saw his mouth open to say anything, everything, whatever you want. “A shower,” Sam finished, kissing Dean again, saying the words against Dean’s lips. “You can wash my hair. I think some of your jizz is still in it, you jerk.”

And then he waited, his mouth still against Dean’s, until Dean gave in and whispered “bitch,” his arms squeezing tight around Sam.