Surender - Part 3 - Claimed, 3/3 Claimed, Smith/Wesson, NC-17
Surrender Part 3 - Claimed (3/3)
Previous
“Come on, kid, keep up,” said Bobby, guiding Sam along. Sam forced himself not to protest, not to insist on heading back to Dean as soon as possible.
He felt like all of his actions reflected on Dean’s training, and he didn’t want to discredit his master.
Bobby led them to a beat- up looking truck, unlocking both doors. “You getting in?” he asked, gruffly, but his face was kind. Sam climbed obediently into the passenger side and waited while Bobby got in the other side and started the truck.
“You’re a good boy, no fuss,” said Bobby, patting Sam’s shoulder. “Any dom would be proud to have you.”
Sam told himself that this should be enough for him to be happy. “Thank you,” he whispered.
They passed through the scrub lands and a variety of gates and checkpoints, finally coming onto a bigger road and then through a small town. As they headed North the desert cleared into small farms and fields.
Bobby was playing seventies rock, very low, but Sam tuned it out. He passed the time staring out the window as they drove. He was dreaming of Dean, but he reminded himself that Dean had Cas and was happy. Everything was happening the way it should. It was all good.
A few hours in, he fell asleep.
When he woke up they were pulling into the parking lot of a ramshackle hotel. It was very late, although he had no idea of the exact time - the dashboard clock had been blinking 12:00 since they set off.
“Welcome back, sleeping beauty,” said Bobby brusquely. “You ready for this?”
Sam blinked back at him. No, he wasn’t ready. He missed Dean. He wanted Dean.
His only job was to be obedient.
“Okay,” he whispered.
“This might be a little scary, son,” Bobby continued, “but you get through the next couple hours, you end up with a good Master who can take care of you properly, okay? All you gotta do is listen to me, and do as you’re told.”
“I understand,” said Sam. His heart was pounding.
“Okay then. C’mon, out of the truck.”
Sam followed Bobby through the parking lot and up the stairs to a long hallway that smelled of molding carpet.
They stopped in front one of the hotel rooms. They didn’t have a key, but Bobby knocked on the door and someone opened it from inside, letting them in.
Sam followed Bobby.
The room was small and redolent with stale cigarette smoke. Sam glanced quickly at the drab interior and the occupants of the room, then fixed his gaze on the floor.
“Home sweet home,” said Bobby dryly. “Howdy boys.”
There was a cluster of men standing around one of the beds, studying them critically. Sam peeped up through his eyelashes, trying not to stare.
“Is this the sub?” asked one of the strangers. He had a British accent and short, thinning hair. He was looking at Sam in an appraising manner that made Sam’s hair stand up, but Sam kept resolutely quiet. “The virgin taken straight from his home?”
“This is Sam,” said Bobby gruffly. “Sam, go in the bathroom, take a shower and change your clothes. New ones’ll be waiting for you on the sink.”
Sam nodded, keeping his head down. He side-stepped around the group of men, making for the bathroom door.
“He’s got a beautiful little ass. Has Nick seen him yet?” drawled the British man.
Sam flushed wildly.
“It’s a silent auction, Crowley. Nick’ll have to bid just like everyone else,” said Bobby. “Sam, I told you to go.”
Sam bobbed his head and shut the door behind him, locking it for good measure. Hurriedly he stepped into the shower and cleaned himself thoroughly, remembering the feeling of Dean’s hands moving over him, and inside him, last time they were together. He forced himself to stop thinking about it - he didn’t need an erection around sharks like these. And those days were over now.
He finished quickly, stepping out of the tub.
The outfit waiting for him on the chipped, stained sink was less “clothing,” and more a collection of leather straps all buckled together. Sam wasn’t sure he even understood how to wear it - there certainly wasn’t enough material to cover anything. Finally he settled for centering the silver ring over his breastbone, with the leather pieces arranged outward from the center, over his shoulders and ribs. His backside was bare. He felt - exposed.
Shyly, he opened the bathroom door and stepped out. “Looks real pretty, boy,” said Bobby flatly, not looking up. Luckily the other men had apparently left. “Now c’mon, get something to eat before we leave.”
Sam moved stiffly to the table and helped himself to one of the burgers in the center. It wasn’t his favorite food, but he forced himself to eat. He didn’t know when he’d get another chance.
“Just a few more hours, son,” Bobby reassured him. “Then it’ll all be over.”
Sam had already figured out that he was being sold to his new Master, but he still had a lot of questions. He was terrified. But he knew his only option was to do what he had been taught to do: trust Dean. This was what Dean wanted for him, had sent him here for, and Sam was going to obey him if it was the last thing he did.
So instead of saying anything, he nodded and swallowed another bite of overcooked meat.
After dinner, Bobby cleared the table and let Sam watch the crackling TV. He stared blankly at the screen, mind entirely empty.
“You ready?” asked Bobby, wiping his hands on his pants. “Might as well get this show on the road.”
Sam followed him back down the corridor and through a doorway into a large, beautifully decorated room. It looked like a ballroom, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, luxurious carpet on the floor, and beautiful, dark wood paneled walls.
The elegance of this one space made no sense against the backdrop of the crappy hotel and the dirty, low-budget room he had just left.
“C’mon,” said Bobby, tugging Sam forward. In the center of the room there was a variety of men kneeling on the floor, dressed similarly to Sam, being watched over by their sharp-eyed trainers. Nobody made any eye contact with Sam as he passed.
“This way,” said Bobby, leading Sam towards a low, padded bench on the floor. Standing nearby Sam saw the same group of men from before, watching him as he was led across the floor.
Sam swallowed.
“Kneel here,” Bobby directed, indicating the carpet. Sam knelt where instructed to, in front of the bench, next to a set of heavy metal rings that protruded from the carpet and a zipped duffel bag.
First Bobby tied a blindfold over his eyes, and then there were hands, more than two of them, tugging on Sam’s limbs. For a second Sam instictively tensed , then capitulated entirely. He let himself be arranged, back end held up by the bench, wrists strapped down to the block. Tied down on all fours, legs spread wide, ankles lashed far apart, his ass was presented, shiny-slick asshole on display.
"Open." Someone tucked a ball gag into his mouth to keep him quiet. Sam opened his mouth for it thankfully. Bobby's hand - Sam could smell the motor oil, so he knew who's it was - held the ball in place with one hand while he got everything buckled, as if Sam was fighting it. Dean used to do that too.
It wasn’t because he didn’t trust Sam, he realized now - it was because Sam liked to be reminded of his own helplessness.
“He’s beautiful,” said someone, a voice Sam didn’t recognize. It was a lazy drawl, American, that made Sam’s spine tingle - not in the good way. He whimpered softly against the ball in his mouth, but no sound escaped.
“Now now, Nick,” said the voice of the British man, Crowley. “Easy on the pet. You don’t own him yet.”
Strong fingers spread his ass apart and then spit-wet fingers rubbed over his hole. “Nice,” said the strange dom, Nick. Sam moaned as someone, without warning, worked what felt like a monster plug into his ass. It was too dry and didn’t go easily. When it finally sank in Sam panted in relief around his gag.
“Gonna come up this sweet ass and plug it up there,” said Nick, close to Sam’s ear. “So you can wear me around inside you, all day long.”
Crowley’s distinctive voice interrupted. “Sorry, luv, but the pet needs to get ready now. You’ll have to put in your bid like everyone else.”
Whoever the strange dom was, he didn’t seem concerned. “Will do,” he said lightly, patting Sam’s backside.
Then he moved away.
“Thanks for getting rid of him,” said Bobby, sounding reluctant, presumably talking to the Brit.
“Not at all, luv,” said the British man cheerfully. “May the best man win, eh?”
With a last, affectionate pat to the shoulder and a whisper of, ‘good luck,’ Bobby left Sam to his fate.
--
Blindfolded and completely restrained, Sam was inspected by what he could only assume were the buyers. He couldn’t track the number of people in the room who were moving around the subs on display.
A few people touched him, feeling his hair, and one checked his teeth, pulling up his lip as Sam softly whined. Then there were hands between his legs, spreading his cheeks to look at his stuffed hole.
“Wild-caught,” he heard a woman’s voice saying nearby, “so lovely.” Fingers twisted the plug in his ass, making him jolt.
He wanted to be a good sub. He hoped his new master would be pleased with him. He didn’t really care any more who it was, if it couldn’t be Dean.
“He’s very beautiful,” someone said, “too bad he’ll be far too rich for my blood.”
“A very handsome brute,” agreed someone else. “But Zachariah said he has a buyer in mind.”
Sam blinked. Were they talking about him? Maybe they meant another sub.
After what felt like hours, but might only be as little as twenty minutes, a polite, cultured voice rang out over what sounded like an intercom. “Ladies and Gentlemen, if you’ll please be so kind as to come into the bidding room, we’ll announce the top bids of the evening.”
Slowly the chattering voices receded; the room fell silent. Sam had to assume everyone had left. He waited, trembling in his restraints. All he could hear was the faint moans and whimpers of the other subs, presumably in straits similar to his own.
He tried to hold his breath, tried to listen, tried to breathe. He didn’t know what was going to happen, and he was terrified.
All of a sudden he heard the sound of doors being thrown open. “I never heard of such a thing!” said a woman’s voice, high-pitched and scandalized.
“One for the record books,” someone else muttered. “I don’t think Zachariah’s going to be very pleased.”
“If everyone will please quiet down for the claiming,” came a patient sounding voice through the intercom.
Someone came up behind Sam, laying a hand on his naked ass. Polite applause scattered through the room. The plug was removed without ceremony, leaving Sam stretched and open. Sam moaned in his restraints, squirming as something wet and rubbery nosed between the cheeks of his ass. No condom, he noticed. At least there was plenty of lube.
The hand settled in the divot above his backside, rubbing circles, distracting him from the pressure in his asshole. This was it, thought Sam. He was losing his virginity, to a stranger, right in front of everyone. Obedience, he reminded himself, as the slippery cock eased into him, forcing him open around it.
Being fucked with a cock, it turned out, felt a lot different than a toy or finger. It was burning hot, for one thing, like it was scorching his guts. It was flexible in a way that rubber wasn’t, like it was bending with him to fill him entirely, expanding inside of him. Whoever was fucking him, their dick felt huge, like Sam would tear apart. But the stretch of it never quite crossed the line into true pain. Just incredibly close.
When the dick was as far inside of him as it would go, a cheer rose up from the crowd. Abruptly, Sam’s new Master pulled out. Sam hissed at the sensation, squirming at the discomfort. There were noises, the distinctive sound of a hand moving over wet skin, and soft, almost silent grunts. The sound of someone jerking themselves off, Sam realized, familiar with the noises from the many long, frustrated nights he had spent under his own sheets.
Then the stranger spattered hot come all over Sam’s ass and his lower back, like a brand. More applause.
Before Sam even had time to put the pieces together - the rushed, perfunctory sex leaving him stunned and confused - he felt strong hands, working at the buckles which held him down to the platform. “C’mon, sweetheart, gonna get you out of here, away from all these eyes,” said a rough voice close to his ear.
Dean.
It was Dean who had fucked him, Dean who had claimed him, Dean who had bought him. Dean who was untying his hands, working the gag out of his mouth, the blindfold away from his eyes. “Just a little more, here we go, Sammy, c’mon, come with me now,” he said, muttering under his breath as though afraid of being overheard. He unbuckled the straps of Sam’s leather costume, stripping it off of him, leaving Sam innocently naked in front of everyone. Sam didn’t mind, didn’t care.
Dean raised him to standing, wrapped an arm around his waist, and hauled him bodily off the floor of the ballroom, out through a side door before Sam could focus on the people standing around the room.
“This way, c’mon, this way Sammy,” said Dean, pulling him across the dirty hallway and into one of the hotel rooms. It was in slightly better shape than the one he had eaten in before, the sheets on the bed clean, the walls spotless.
Dean led him to sit on the bed, then knelt in front of him, holding his hands. “You okay, baby?”
“Dean,” breathed Sam. “But - but how did you - “
Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I sold all my shares in the Facility to Cas,” he said, sheepishly. “Boy are they going to be surprised when they realize a sub is the majority owner. And I borrowed another hundred grand from Bobby. It was the only way I could get enough money - I had to make sure I put in the highest bid, had to make sure I won.”
“Are you my Master now?” asked Sam. It was the only thing he could think to ask.
Dean kissed his hair. “We don’t have to do it that way, if you don’t want,” he said softly. “I just want you in my life, baby. We don’t ever have to have sex again, now that it’s official - I’ll adopt you as a brother, if you want, and I’ll always take care of you. ”
“Don’t you want to fuck me?” Sam whispered.
Dean sat back on his heels. “Do you want me to?” he asked.
Sam nodded slowly.
“You can fuck me instead, if you want,” Dean said, stroking Sam’s naked shoulder. "Anything you want."
Sam shook his head no. “Want you to,” he said. He wanted to suck Dean, wanted to lick his ass, but most of all he wanted Dean to finally fuck him, properly, finally show him who he belonged to.
“Okay, sweetheart,” said Dean. He kissed Sam's shoulder. “Lie back for me. Not gonna tie you, want you to put your hands above your head, keep them up there for me, okay?”
Dean crawled between Sam’s thighs on the bed. “Want you just like this,” he said, “on your back.” He hoisted Sam’s legs over his shoulders and folded him easily in half. Sam relaxed, letting himself be positioned however Dean wanted him.
“Oh, sweetheart,” said Dean, his fingers exploring around. “You’re so wet down here, wet and open for me, like a girl.”
Sam flushed in pleasure with the humiliation. “You want it?” asked Dean, shoving his pants down out of the way. Sam finally caught sight of his dick, angry red and straining towards him.
“I want it,” he said, certainly.
“Relax for me,” said Dean, lining them up. Sam’s asshole stung as it was stretched around Dean’s slippery head. It didn’t fade; Dean wasn’t pushing any further in.
“Please,” Sam begged, dropping his head back, arching his chest. Dean apparently took it as an invitation - he leaned forward, sinking in a little further, and latched onto one of the offered nipples. Sam moaned, the irritation of his stuffed ass contrasting with smooth slide of Dean’s lips and tongue. When Dean drew off, leaving the stiff little peak flush and wet with the attention, Sam twisted eagerly to present the other one to his mouth.
“You like this?” Dean gave the other nipple a smacking kiss. “You want my mouth here? No, keep your hands where they are, sweetheart. That’s right, above your head just like that.” He licked around the bud as Sam moaned and writhed and tried to get better contact with that invading dick. “Now, please what?”
“Please move. Fuck me. My ass, please fuck my ass. Oh god, please.”
Dean planted his arms on both sides of Sam’s shoulders. “You gonna open up for me, sweetheart?” he asked, leaning forward and working himself slowly into Sam. Sam had no leverage to thrust back - he was held down by the angle of his own legs over Dean’s shoulders.
Dean kissed at Sam’s chest, moving up as he pushed in further, planting slow, reverent kisses all over Sam’s neck, his jaw, his chin. Then finally he stretched up to bring their mouths together, swallowing Sam’s gasp as he pushed that last inch in, seating himself fully. “How’s this,” he murmured, against Sam’s lips. “Is this what you needed?”
It still felt strange, to be stretched so wide, to feel that there was a space inside of him big enough to swallow down all of Dean’s dick. Sam wiggled, impaled on the solid mass of it, feeling his body mould around the shape.
“S’good,” he muttered. “More.”
“Yeah?” Dean licked into Sam’s mouth, tongue sliding over his teeth, rotating his hips so Sam could feel every inch of him. “Want more of this?”
Sam closed his eyes, nodding.
“So beautiful.” Dean kept his lips in a gentle pucker over Sam’s. “Love you, baby.”
Sam’s eyes watered as Dean began to move, slow, deep thrusts, “Love you too,” he promised, lifting his arms from the bed and wrapping them around Dean’s neck. Apparently Dean didn’t object. He helped Sam slide his legs down from his shoulders to his waist, where they instinctively tightened, Sam’s ankles locked behind Dean’s back, and they moved, tangled together that way.
Dean reached down to take hold of Sam’s cock, but Sam shook his head, pushing him off. “Like this,” he said, pushing back hungrily against Dean’s thrusts.
Dean just smiled, and kissed him again, and Sam lost himself in the movement of their lips working together, the pressure of Dean’s dick inside of him, sliding slowly in and out.
He came all at once, like drawing a breath after having been underwater, spurting all over Dean’s stomach and his own, where they slid messily together. Then he laid back as Dean kept moving, not resisting at all, his body jolting helplessly with each thrust.
For a long time they kissed, slowly, and Sam opened his mouth and let Dean take what he wanted, sucking gently on the tongue that slid between his lips, as Dean kept moving in the same steady rhythm, like a metronome, not speeding up at all until the last two or three strokes, which got jumbled together. He tensed suddenly, and then Sam felt him coming, a sudden spurt of warmth deep inside him.
Dean collapsed on top of him, nuzzling into Sam’s neck.
They ended up curled together, sharing the same pillow, and slowly recovered their breath.
“What are we going to do now?” asked Sam. His ass ached pleasurably from being fucked, and he could feel his master’s seed sliding out of him.
“Don’t you know, baby?” Dean slid his arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “We’re going to do whatever the hell we want,” he said.
If you have not already done so, run, don't walk, over to meus_venator's lj and look at the art masterpost. There are things over there that didn't even get used in the story, including a pretty amazing shot of Sam in that leather harness!
She also made me a fabulous .pdf, available available here, or you can read on AO3.
AND THANKS FOR READING!!