FIC; The Way Things Were 8/?
Title: The Way Things Were 8/?
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I'm not making any money off this. Don't sue.
Summary: The war is over, and the Demons have won. Sammy's in hiding, and Dean's determined to find him, and bring him back where he belongs. On their side.
WARNINGS: This chapter has dub-con and allusions to rape. Please be warned.
No beta for this one, due to my complete stupidity. Thanks go to kuhekabir for trying.
Previous Chapters here
Chapter 8
January, 2011
After he had been released from the hospital, Sam floundered. The world had changed; he had no clue who he could trust, especially if what his dreams told him were - that Dean was possessed and leading the demon armies.
It was Missouri who cleared up that misconception for him. Yes, Dean was leading the fight for the other side, but he wasn’t possessed. He had become twisted in the time he worked for them.
Missouri had explained everything that had happened in the past two years, and Sam sat there, horror in his eyes. When she finished, he was still sitting there in shock.
“What do I do?”
Missouri looked thoughtful. “Dean’s still looking for you, sweetie. We need to keep you hidden.” A speculative look came into her eyes. “Did you tell anyone you had your memory back?”
“No. Just you.”
Missouri smiled. “Good.”
***
"I said I was going to come in you," Dean reminded him. "I haven't done that yet."
Sam was too stunned to respond - he had forgotten Dean's words. Dean took advantage of his shocked state to steal another kiss, quick, hard and bruising, before pushing Sam into a room and closing the door behind him. Sam sprawled on the floor, Dean's shove having pushed him off balance.
Dean looked down at him, raw lust in his eyes. Sam started to climb to his feet but got only as far as his knees before Dean barked out, "Stop."
The small amount of time he'd been with this Dean was not enough to override years of listening to his big brother. Sam froze where he was, crouched on his knees, with the 'deer in headlights' look on his face.
Dean smirked. "So obedient," he murmured, carding a hand through Sam's hair. "God, you look so good like that, Sammy. On your knees, covered in my come. I'm going to fuck you," he promised darkly. "I'm going to fuck you so good."
"Dean..." Sam instinctively arched into the touch - something he'd done since he was young, no matter who was playing with his hair. Dean used to swear he could make Sam purr just by doing this.
"Are you going to behave for me Sammy?" Dean asked, deceptively gentle, "Or am I going to have to chain you to the bed?"
Sam's eyes widened, as his head shot around and he saw the chains Dean was speaking of. Dean continued, voice still soft, but taking on a darker tone, "I don't want to, your first time with me shouldn't be chained, but it won't bother me too much if it is."
Sam glared at Dean defiantly for a few moments before lowering his head submissively. A plan was running through his head, a plan he could use to escape. But he needed Dean more relaxed, less watchful then he was now, if Sam had any hope of pulling it off.
He'd let Dean use him - it wouldn't be the first time he’d been used as bait on a hunt, put himself in danger to change the odds, create a better outcome for others. This was no different, he told himself. Means to an end. Let Dean think he was broken, and Dean would leave him alone more, make more mistakes.
He wouldn't fail. He'd get through this. It was just one step at a time. Hiding his distaste, Sam eyed the bed, with its silk sheets and rich leather straps - not exactly cuffs, but they'd have the same result.
This was just the first step.
Dean watched as Sam bowed his head, marveling at the change in his brother's attitude. It was false, he knew that. Sam never gave in that quickly, he always had a plan, was always thinking two steps ahead. Dean, however, was the big brother, so he was automatically another step in front.
"I think," Dean said slowly, "For tonight, I'll go easy on you," Dean said. He watched the surprise and satisfaction light up Sam's eyes, though the younger Winchester tried to mask it. He wasn't that good though.
"Get on the bed, Sammy," Dean ordered, and watched with amusement as Sam scrambled to obey. He almost laughed at his brother's eager display, holding it back, along with a wicked smirk. If Sam wanted to play this game, he was going to play along. If Sam wanted to pretend he wanted this, then, Gods, Dean was going to make him beg for it.
Sam lay on the bed, naked, having dropped the coat Dean had given him earlier in his haste. He was on his back, his cock slowly rising under Dean's scrutiny, though he doubted Sam had intended that little side effect.
Dean stripped quickly, eager to get to Sam. Sam spread his legs in clear invitation and Dean bristled slightly. Grasping his brother's ankles, he closed them. "You're not a slut, Sammy, so don't act like one."
Sam blushed darkly, trying to move away, but Dean settled himself on top of Sam, grabbing Sam's wrists in his hands, raising them above his head.
There was another set of leather straps there, one Dean was relative positive Sam hadn't noticed - they blended in perfectly with the headrest, looking like nothing more than a simple decoration.
It was a quick, simple movement, and then Sam was looking up at him with curious hurt-filled eyes. His gaze darted between Dean and his arms, which were now bound to the bed.
"But... I was good..."
“You were,” Dean acknowledged, “Which is why your legs are free and you’re not gagged.” With something other than my cock, Dean added in his mind.
Sam didn’t reply, didn’t relax, but he lay back, a buffet for Dean to enjoy. If he had the time, and the patience, which, at the moment, he didn’t. He’d waited too long, he wanted his brother NOW.
He kissed his way down Sam’s torso, purposely avoiding the younger man’s nipples. Sam gasped and strained against the straps holding him. He tensed, sucking in a breath in anticipation as Dean breathed on the head of Sam’s cock, and Dean chuckled to himself. As much as Sam would deny it, as much as he fought it, Sam wanted this. He could lie as much as he wanted; Sam’s own body betrayed him.
He bypassed the thick organ begging for his attention - there would be plenty of time later to play. He had bigger prizes. He raised a hand to Sam’s mouth, a satisfied smile on his lips as, after a moment of confusion, Sam opened his mouth and sucked the digits in. Sam obviously knew what needed to be done.
Sam still froze, however, when Dean circled his hole with the wet fingers a minute later.
“Relax,” Dean murmured, gently pressing against Sam’s entrance, teasing him with the promise - the threat? - of penetration, but not following through. He heard Sam take a deep breath, then felt the muscles of his brother's ass relax ever so slightly as he let it out. Taking the opportunity for what it could be, he slid two fingers in.
Sam gave a bitten off cry, his lip caught between his teeth. Dean took no notice, pumping the fingers slowly in and out of Sam, scissoring them to stretch Sam out, adding another. He wasn’t being especially careful, but he still took the time to rub over Sam’s prostate once or twice, just to watch his brother’s reaction.
Three fingers was enough, he decided. He didn’t want to cause Sam too much damage, but he still wanted Sam to feel it, to know who he belonged to.
He lubed up his cock with his free hand, not yet willing to leave the tight heat of Sam’s body. He wiped the excess lube on the sheets. He did have one more thing he needed to do before he fucked Sam though.
On the dresser next to the bed was a vial with a clear liquid in it. The stopper was off, and Dean dipped his fingers in. The oil was specially made, and had been given to him by a witch hoping to secure his favours. He’d taken the oil gladly, seeing the benefit it could be in his pursuit of Sammy immediately. He’d killed the witch.
He leaned up to kiss Sam, the fingers of one hand still embedded inside his brother, the other tracing patterns over his Sam’s heart as they kissed gently, full of love and care and tenderness. It was a striking contrast to what would happen next.
He removed his fingers gently, lining up his cock and slamming in. Sam screamed, his back arching. The motion caused Dean’s teeth to tear at Sam’s lips, blood spilling between them. Dean ignored it, turning the kiss harsh, lips clashing and teeth biting, as he started pounding into his brother. He’d waited too long already.
Sam thrashed on the bed, moaning and crying out at each thrust. Dean was relentless though, thrusting hard, not pausing to let Sam adjust to the sensation. He continually brushed over Sam’s prostate, giving the younger Winchester an uneasy combination of pain and pleasure, so he never quite knew what he was meant to be feeling.
"Fuck, you're so tight, Sammy," Dean grunted, "Were you a virgin, Sam? Were you saving yourself for me?"
Sam just turned his head to the pillow, looking away. He hoped it would be enough of an answer for Dean not to push him.
It wasn't.
"Answer me, Sam," Dean commanded, timing his demand with a particularly hard thrust that had Sam arching off the bed.
"I’m sorry," Sam said quietly, still talking into the pillow. He grunted, refusing to show Dean he was in pain as the older Winchester gripped his hips and started pounding into him.
"Tell me his name, Sam," Dean's voice was different, harsh. Sam was startled enough at the change to look at his brother. Dean’s eyes were dark and furious, although Sam could see a glimmer of betrayal.
"I can't," Sam moaned, his head falling back on a particularly hard thrust. "I don't know who they were."
Dean's eyes darkened. "You don't know, Sam? ‘They’?" Throughout this conversation, Dean hadn't once stopped thrusting, hadn't even slowed his pace. With a howl, Dean gave one last thrust, climaxing into Sam. He pulled out of him, and got up off the bed. Sam lay there, still not looking at his brother. Fluid leaked from his ass, and he hadn’t come. Dean could see tears falling but at that moment, he didn’t care. He pulled on his jeans, and walked to the door, pausing before he left.
“I hadn't realized you were that much of a slut, Sam,” Dean said, and walked out.
***
One of the messengers had come to John nearly an hour after Dean had taken Sam from the courtyard, with a message to take care of Sam, who was still in Dean’s rooms. John had gone there immediately, surprised when he found one of Dean’s most loyal guards standing a full corridor away from Dean’s room. Dean rarely had guards near his rooms, claiming that most couldn’t be trusted, as well as the fact he didn’t want to show weakness by needing guards.
“Sir!” the guard saluted, moving aside so John could pass.
“Carry on,” John acknowledged him with a nod and continued up the corridor, completely unprepared for what he would find next.
Dean was pacing outside his door, four steps in one direction, then four steps in the other.
“Dean?”
Dean looked over. “Dad,” he said, relief spreading across his face. “You’re here. I need you to go in and get Sam cleaned up and then take him back to your room. He’ll be safest there for the moment, I think.”
John eyes narrowed. “What did you do to your brother?”
It was like a shutter came down over Dean’s face. “Nothing that little whore didn’t deserve,” he spat. “He’s gotten better at lying, Dad. He actually had me believing he was innocent, that he’d never been touched, when he’s just a little slut. I always wondered how he’d made it through school.”
“And you know this how?”
“He told me. He fucking told me I wasn’t his first. He’s mine. He should have known that!”
“And he didn’t mean Jessica?” John queried. “You know, the girl he was going to marry?”
Dean’s smile turned bitter. “He told me he didn’t know their names, Dad. More than one, and he never even bothered finding out who they were.” Abruptly, Dean started pacing again.
John sighed, then went in, closing the door behind him.
***
Sam was sobbing, his head turned into the pillow. John got the feeling that if he hadn’t been tied up, Sam would have been curled on his side.
John crept over to his youngest son, trying not to startle him. “Sam?” he called quietly, almost a whisper.
Sam whined but didn’t turn over. John reached out and untied Sam’s wrists, ready for the moment when Sam uncurled and leapt into his arms, like he had as a child.
It didn’t happen. Sam curled further into himself.
“Sammy?” John tried again, gathering Sam into his arms despite his protests. “It’s dad, Sammy.”
Sam struggled for a minute before giving in. “It wasn’t my fault!” Sam sobbed into his chest, breaking down. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“I know, Sammy. I know. I’ll speak to Dean.”
Sam’s head shot up. “No!” He said forcibly. He hiccupped, his eyes bright with tears and his face wet. Tears still escaped. “No, you can’t tell him!”
“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice startled both of them.
Sam looked at Dean in shock. He didn’t want Dean here, he didn’t want Dean to know. Technically, he didn’t want his father to know either, but he valued Dean’s opinion of him more he did John’s.
Dean’s words before had hurt him though. He didn’t give Sam a chance to explain. Sam thought Dean knew him better than that. He didn’t do casual sex. Shouldn’t that have set off alarm bells in him?
What had happened to his big brother, the one who knew instantly when something was wrong with him?
And, yes, ok, he was evil. But Dean was still protective of him. Or possessive at least. He’d proven that.
“Dean, now is really not the best time.”
Sam looked at his father in shock, not expecting that John would stick up for him. Dean had a similar look on his face.
“Who do you think you are, to tell me what I do with my property?” Dean practically snarled, a dangerous look in his eyes.
John matched his stare. “In case you’ve forgotten, Dean, Sam is your brother, and my son, and he’s hurt. And if I have to lock you out, I will. You know I can do it,” he threatened.
Dean growled lowly, then seemed to make a decision. “I WILL find out,” he promised. He leant down and kissed Sam hard, then turned and stalked out.
TBC