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It was probably lucky that he ran such a low temperature, or the lack of blood in his hands would be getting reeaaaaaally annoying right about now. The knowledge that blood flow wouldn’t negatively affect him in any way didn’t stop Dean from tugging at the cuffs again, letting the few links of chain connected to his wrists and ankles rattle noisily against the bolts in the ceiling and floor. He had a foot or so of leeway when moving his feet but his arms were stretched above him, just on the wrong side of painful, and didn’t give him much room to wriggle. At least Sam had padded them out with a stretch of cloth first. Dean suspected his restless movements would have scraped the skin on his wrists raw already, if his brother hadn’t thought ahead and padded the thick cuffs before bundling Dean into them.
He grinned to himself at the thought of his own blood running back down his arms. Sam would eventually have to touch him, would he wrap a hand around Dean’s arm and let Dean’s blood stick to his fingers? Even after all these years, Dean wondered about the allure of demon’s blood for his little brother. Would Sam wonder too? Crowley was good entertainment but – Dean grinned – imagine the mischief he could get up to with his brother by his side. Both Winchesters with black eyes. He shivered and the chains above his head rattled again.
Demon-ising Sam would have to wait. Dean needed to escape first.
Theoretically, he knew that no more than two or three days had passed, but inside a Devil’s Trap and locked up underground there was no way of accessing his powers or of following the progression of time. Dean was fairly sure his brother wouldn’t leave him languishing in a cell for too long, but he didn’t know how pissed off Sam was about the whole demon thing – so it could be a while yet.
He passed the time by fantasising about Sam with black eyes. Sam with a knife in one hand and a civilian in the other. Sam with blood on his face. Sam with blood on his chest. He groaned. Sam with blood anywhere, really. Sam with blood on his lips. Sam’s fucking lips. Sam with black eyes and no clothes and blood on his ass, bending over for him.
Where did that come from?
Dean grinned. Stuck in a concrete box for a few days and he was already fantasising about his baby brother? Oh well, not like he had a conscience anymore anyway. If Sam was going to leave him locked up in the dark, then he was damn well going to imagine Sam bent over a table and moaning for Dean to fuck him senseless.
Sam with black eyes and no clothes and blood on his ass, bending over a table and holding himself open so Dean could take what he wanted. In his imagination Dean reached a hand out to slap his brother on one cheek, but the rattling above his head brought him up short and reminded him of his current situation.
He was hard already, and he glared up at his hands which were traitorously stuck nowhere near the vicinity of his dick. He tensed his stomach muscles and tried to draw his knees upwards, but the chain only let him hang in a semi-seated position, and he couldn’t get his thigh close enough to his crotch to rub himself off. He was hard as nails but couldn’t get any part of his body close enough for friction. He growled. Sam was going to pay for this.
A few more days in the shithole that the Men of Letters called a cell and Dean was groaning with frustration. He was fairly sure that cumming untouched was a thing that people could do, but either his stamina was too good, or his imagination wasn’t sufficient, because he could only stare uselessly at the unsated tenting in his pants where his erection bobbed mercilessly.
He imagined Sam in every position he could think of. On his back. On his knees. Legs around Dean’s waist. Above him, riding his cock. In the shower. On the bed. In the car. Standing up. Lying down. Damn, but was he hard. He imagined his hand on his cock, imagined Sam’s hand on his cock, Sam’s mouth on his cock, Sam on his cock. Literally anything at all in the whole word touching his cock.
His erection strained eagerly against his zipper, leaking precome, but refused to tip him over the edge. He howled in frustration.
By the time Sam finally opened the cellar door to check in on his prisoner, Dean was practically writhing in his chains. There was blood on his arms where the cuffs had cut into flesh, but Dean seemed unaware.
“Sam,” he moaned. “Sammy.”
Sam raised his eyebrows at the sweaty, exhausted mess hanging from the ceiling. Could that really be the smirking black-eyed demon from a week earlier? A corner of his mouth twitched when he saw the, uh, situation in Dean’s pants.
“Aw, did big brother go and get himself worked up?” he taunted.
Dean was not having a bar of it. Just the sound of Sam’s voice was doing things to his spine, and the hairs on his arms were awake with the proximity.
“Get the fuck over here,” he commanded. “Get the fuck over here right. Fucking. Now.”
Sam was just smirking to himself, arranging plastic blood sachets and a paper bag on the far table. When he saw Dean looking, he held one up. “For what it’s worth, I got your blood type.”
Well, god dammit, Sam had gone and arranged a little party to bring Dean back from the dark side. Not at all the kind of blood Dean was hoping would be spilling tonight. When Sam came towards him with a needle in one hand and a blood bag in the other, Dean was pretty pissed off but also kind of relieved. If he could get Sam close enough to rub his erection against him, just once…
Sam stood on Dean’s left, not touching him anywhere except the forearm, where he held tight and slapped at the crease in Dean’s arm. Well, the crease that would have been there if Dean’s arms hadn’t been stretched above him like a goddamn puppet for the last century. Dean grunted in frustration and jerked wildly to shake Sam off, but there was no way a foot of chain was going to let him get anywhere. Sam held on easily and acted as though he couldn’t even see Dean fighting.
There was a small sting and then a tiny tingle of heat, as though Sam had just pushed a bit of fresh blood into Dean’s veins instead of the cold leftovers of some corpse. The tingling intensified and became painful, and he gritted his teeth against it. His erection in no way found this unsettling, and continued to press painfully against the inside of his pants.
“Traitor,” he panted down at it.
Sam withdrew the needle from his arm and stepped back, and Dean noticed the blood on his hands. Looking up, he saw that he had, indeed, been bleeding from the wrists, unaware of the effect of his struggles. He looked back at Sam, who was pondering his palms.
“Taste it,” he suggested.
Sam glanced up at him and smirked. “Is that what you’ve been getting worked up about, Dean? Have you been imagining me with your blood on my tongue?” He opened his mouth and his tongue slid smoothly out, wet and glistening, one inch shy of his blood stained fingers. Then his eyes darted back up to Dean’s and he grinned. “Sorry to disappoint, big brother, but I don’t need cheap thrills anymore.”
Dean moaned in disappointment and arousal as his brother turned away and went back to the table at the far end of the bunker. Sam pulled out his phone and pressed a few buttons, then set the phone on the table and sat down next to it, lifting up a book and opening it half way.
“One hour to go,” he said. And then completely ignored his brother yelling at him from across the room.
In hindsight, Dean could see why maybe yelling at his brother to strip and let himself get fucked by a demon might not have been the best move, but that certainly didn’t stop him from an hour of spitting out every filthy, depraved thought he had at Sam’s emotionless profile, which remained impassively staring down into his book.
“Get over here right fucking now Sam. Get over here and bend over and let your big brother split you open. You don’t want my blood? Fine. I’ll addict you to something else. I’ll addict you to this.” He humped the air uselessly. “Get over here and let me fill you up. Gonna bend you over, fuck, gonna push you down and push right in to that hole. Fuck, Sammy, you hear me? You fucking hear me? Gonna push right in with nothing but my spit. You want that? Get your ass over here!”
The alarm on Sam’s phone went off, and he looked up in surprise. “Time sure does fly when you’re having fun, right Dean?” He stood and stretched, and Dean’s mouth went dry. Perhaps Sam wasn’t as impassive as he had thought. Because there, tenting the fabric of Sam’s jeans, was the unmistakable bulge of his erection.
Yes yes yes fucking yes Dean crowed to himself.
Sam sauntered over, palming himself with one hand on his crotch, and holding a needle full of blood in the other.
“Bet you wish you could do this huh, Dean?” He asked as he pressed a palm into his erection. Dean just groaned, and waited for his brother to strip and bend over.
Sam chuckled darkly and returned to Dean’s side, holding his forearm again and pushing the needle into the same vein. The pain was worse this time and the muscles in Dean’s neck strained as his whole body tensed, shaking minutely. His eyes flicked to black and he lost track of Sam for a second. When his eyes flicked back Sam wasn’t in eyesight, and he certainly wasn’t bending over to expose his ass to Dean. He was behind Dean, rubbing his goddamn cock against the small of Dean’s back, making these fucking noises like he was a fucking dog. Rumbling and growling and – ugh – biting at the jumping muscle in Dean’s neck.
He twisted sharply and glared at Sam over his shoulder. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at, Sam? I’m not your fucking chew toy.”
Sam just smirked back at him and rubbed his cock a little harder into Dean’s back. This was so the wrong kind of pressure Dean had in mind, and he let his eyes flick black again to make his point.
“Sam” he warned, “you better get your hand or your mouth or your ass around my cock in the next five seconds or I swear I will whip you into next month.”
The black eyes must have had some effect because Sam paused the swivelling of his hips and looked straight at him. “Is that so?” He asked. Then there was cold air on Dean’s back and the noise of ripping and his shirt was being pulled clean off him as Sam tore through the seams, resuming his insistent humping behind Dean. Dean tried to jerk away but Sam’s hands were in his hair, holding on to the short strands and forcing Dean’s head backward, stretching his neck awkwardly. It was uncomfortable as hell but that didn’t stop Sam from pressing forward and placing a firm, punishing kiss on Dean’s gasping lips and sliding a tongue into his mouth.
The last thing he saw was Sam’s pink, smirking lips and then his own shirt was being pulled tight over his eyes and getting knotted at the back of his skull, painfully uprooting a few hairs in the process. Dean shook his head to try and dislodge it, scowling at the place where he was pretty sure Sam would be watching with glee.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to see,” Sam said, about 10 feet away from where Dean had pictured him. “It’s that I don’t want you flicking those black eyes at me every few minutes. I would apologise but…” Dean could sense that Sam was shrugging, “well I don’t really give a crap what you think anyway.”
Dean growled a string of curses and pulled downward against the chains stretching him upward. When it became obvious that they still weren’t going to give he began to listen for Sam instead. His brother appeared to be back at the table, but Dean couldn’t tell what he was doing. What else was on that table? Sam’s phone, the blood sachets, the ancient book… and a paper bag. Dean’s stomach dropped.
“Sam?” He called, “what are you up to over there little brother?”
He listened as Sam walked slowly back toward him, and struggled futilely against his cuffs.
“You going to open your mouth for me, Dean?” came Sam’s voice next to Dean’s ear. Dean pressed his lips tightly together, thinking of Sam’s tongue in his mouth again.
Sam just chuckled. “Don’t be like that,” he chided, biting at Dean’s earlobe. Then Dean lurched as a sharp blow was directed against his ass.
“Oi!” He spat, protesting. But before he could voice his complaint in full a hard mouthful of plastic was being shoved past his lips and pushed against his tongue. Dean jerked again but Sam was pushing it past his teeth. Jesus fucking Christ it was a fucking dildo. A plastic fucking dildo that Sam was shoving into his mouth and securing with a strap behind Dean’s head.
He retched, instinctively, and couldn’t stop himself from jerking a half dozen times, trying to dislodge both the dildo and the ripped shirt wrapped around his face. His tongue was being pressed downward and the plastic in his mouth was just long enough to incite his gag reflex whenever he moved. His groan was muffled and the vibrations against the dildo had him silently retching again, saliva already leaking out the sides of his mouth and dribbling down his chin.
“Oh, Dean,” Sam crooned, “if only you could see yourself like this.”
And then there was the feel of hard steel underneath the waistband of his pants, and Sam was cutting away the last shreds of his clothing.
Dean stood in the dark, a plastic dildo stretching his lips, his feet shackled to the floor and his arms stretched painfully above him, naked but for a ripped shirt around his eyes, and realised that his escape plan wasn’t going quite how he had intended.
“Well,” said Sam in his ear, “this is cosy.”
Dean tried to formulate a response but gagged instead, and felt more saliva dribble down his chin.
“Now, let’s see.” His brother circled Dean, scratching his fingers along his middle and completely ignoring his cock (which had softened and lay hanging between his legs, not at all enjoying how the night had panned out).
“Let’s see. Let’s see. What was it that you said? You were going to bend me over and fuck me deep with only your saliva to ease the way?” Sam tsked. “You’ve been getting yourself worked up down here imagining me taking your big demon cock but you forgot one thing, brother,” and he leaned in and spoke directly into Dean’s ear, “I’m calling the shots around here, and you’re going to be doing penance for a long time for thinking otherwise.”
Dean shivered involuntarily.
“One hour of listening to you spout your plans for my body. Hmmh. You certainly gave me a few ideas. I think what I need to do is make sure each and every one of those ideas comes to fruition, brother. But I think it’s your ass that’s going to split around my cock, and I think I’m going to enjoy myself quite a lot.” Sam’s tongue swiped hot and wet in Dean’s ear, and his breathing was extraordinarily loud in the quite of the bunker.
Sam’s arm wrapped around Dean’s middle, and Dean could feel the fingers of his other hand begin a spider-crawl over his flesh. Tickling the sensitive skin on his right hip, probing the flesh of his ass, then squeezing a cheek and pulling it, a leg between Dean’s thighs to stop him from resisting.
Dean shook as one of Sam’s fingers circled his hole, alternately rubbing and pressing. He gave a pained grunt (and a subsequent retch) as the finger went in dry, up to the first knuckle. Sam let go of his middle and Dean hung from his wrists, connected to Sam by nothing except the sneaky tip of one finger in his ass. Sam moved his finger from side to side and Dean swung slightly, pushed by nothing but the pressure from Sam’s lone finger.
The sound of a slap filled the air, and Dean jerked belatedly as he felt the corresponding sting on his ass. Sam was fucking spanking him, one finger in his ass and the other raining down hard, open-handed slaps against his ass and thighs. The finger twisted painfully against his insides when Sam had to reach to Dean’s other side.
As a demon, Dean could heal almost instantly from injuries as severe as broken bones and missing limbs, but in the devil’s trap he found that one finger and an unrelenting palm was quickly surpassing ‘uncomfortable’ and heading straight to the realm of ‘fucking painful.’ Sam didn’t stop until each slap was making Dean jerk and his entire lower half felt raw and red.
He moaned as he felt Sam’s hand roam over his abused flesh, then his brother was back in his ear, voice rough with lust. “You said you were going to slap me red, remember that, Dean? Mmm baby but it’s hot. What else did you say you were going to do to me?” He was panting directly into Dean’s ear, one finger still spearing his insides. “I think I’m going to take you up on the offer of a nice, deep fuck. What do you think about that, brother?”
Dean’s eyes were watering underneath his shirt, and he made no response. The hand roving over Dean’s abused ass suddenly lifted to his face, and pressed the dildo more firmly past Dean’s lips. His overstimulated gag reflex immediately kicked into gear, and Dean retched painfully against the plastic in his mouth, unable to stop the saliva that now covered his chin and had begun to drip onto his chest. Sam’s hand scraped through the mess on his face and Dean could hear him slicking himself up behind him. When his hand returned Dean was prepared for the second press of the dildo into his mouth but that didn’t stop him from gagging just as hard, another flow of saliva escaping onto Sam’s waiting hand.
The finger finally pulled free of Dean’s hole, and Dean couldn’t stop himself from tensing, trying to ready himself for what would come next.
As it turned out, there was nothing Dean could have done to prepare himself for the blunt pressure of the fucking iguana that passed as Sam’s cock. His hole was basically unstretched and there wasn’t enough saliva in the world to make the enormity of Sam’s dick any easier to take. He was panting against the dildo in his mouth before Sam had even pushed past his rim, stuffing the fat head of his cock into his brother.
Sam put his hands on Dean’s hips and pulled, shoving an inch forward and pulling a muffled howl from Dean. Then he was pushing and pushing and pushing and Dean was thinking you’ve got to be kidding. How big is this thing? But it kept coming and Dean was on his toes from the angle until (finally) he could feel Sam’s chest against his back and – oh god – those were Sam’s balls resting snug between Dean’s legs. Sam was inside him. His little brother with a dick the size of Mexico was snugged as far into him as he could get. Sam resettled his hands and pulled Dean backward against him more firmly, and there was a line of fire inside Dean and an unvoiced sob at the back of his throat, but Sam didn’t wait for Dean to get used to the feeling of being split in half, he just gripped Dean tighter and fucking went to town, plowing into Dean however he damn well pleased.
As the minutes ticked by and Sam didn’t show any sign of getting tired, Dean found that the pain was lessening somewhat. It didn’t get more comfortable, per se, but the aching fire in his ass finally began to turn into… pleasure? The pain was definitely still there but now Dean was beginning to feel something else, and he chased after the feeling with all the reckless need he could muster, desperate to find something, anything, to lessen the hot pain inside him. His brother paid him no heed and continued pushing himself into Dean, relentlessly using his body.
A second later and Dean found he could hold himself slightly bent, and there, yes right fucking there Sam’s pounding was hitting a spot inside Dean that had his toes curling and the pain in his ass receding fast. Behind the shirt, Dean’s eyes flicked black and rolled backward, his mouth slackening in pleasure. Picking up on the idea, he could feel himself hardening again and almost groaned at the thought of finally, finally getting to cum, even if it wasn’t exactly how he originally planned.
The spot inside of him was shooting sparks right down his legs and up his spine, and Dean’s fists were clenched above him. He was close, he was so fucking close yes god this is it. Sam was getting more sporadic too and Dean grinned to himself at the thought of them cumming together.
Sam shoved upward and Dean went on to his toes as Sam flattened himself along Dean’s back, curling his arms around Dean’s chest and stomach. Sam let out a long, deep groan, and Dean could feel the cock inside him twitching as his brother came. He squirmed helplessly in Sam’s arms and silently begged for one of Sam’s hands to slide down lower, where his unattended dick was once again swollen and unsated.
Don’t you dare Dean thought viciously at Sam, but it was no use. Sam slunk back, pulling his dick out as he went, and Dean was left aching and empty. He felt Sam edging around him, and then Sam’s lips were on his again, and his brother was pushing his tongue wetly into the spaces left unfilled by the dildo. He felt the straps holding it in place loosening and tried to push the offending plastic out, but Sam was lazily pushing back with his tongue, letting it out partway before forcing it back into Dean’s mouth. It was so much worse than tongue fucking. Dean’s saliva was everywhere and his lips felt stretched and sore. He tensed his shoulders and jaw and waited for Sam to finish, trying to ignore the sick slide of the plastic against his tongue and across the roof of his mouth.
And then it was gone. He desperately wanted to stretch his jaw but he slammed his mouth closed and tightened his lips instead. Nothing else was getting into his mouth today thank you very much.
He groaned as probing fingers touched his beaten ass and pushed apart his abused cheeks, and when he felt something wet and solid against his hole he realised what Sam planned on doing with the plastic dildo he’d just removed from Dean’s mouth.
It slid in easily, and even though it had felt huge in his mouth, it was nothing compared to Sam’s dick in his ass. Sam slapped it once, twice, three times, making Dean embarrassingly aware of how freaking wet he was inside, then he stepped away.
A shrill beeping noise filled the bunker, and Sam snickered. Dean heard him walking to the table, and the alarm turned off. A moment later there was a prick in his arm and Dean waited for the pain to hit.
“In another hour we get to go for round two,” Sam whispered in his ear. “Didn’t you say something about… whipping me into next month?”
The chains rattled loudly as Dean’s struggling intensified.