Cruel games
The boys get kidnapped and locked in a room together: After giving me a nod, he steels himself and tightens his grip on the knife. I lay my hand over his shaking, white knuckles and gently guide the blade, helping him on. I can take it. If I let Jensen see how much it fucking hurts like hell, he wouldn’t be able to do it.
10,000 words, NC-17, angst, non-con, hurt/comfort, bottom!Jared
***
“Jay! Jay, wake up, man!”
There’s someone calling me. I know that voice. I know it almost as well as my own. Forcing myself to blink awake, I let out a groan, “Urgh… Jense?”
A relieved grin swims into view, “Yeah, dude, it’s me. Fuck, you scared the crap out of me.”
I try to sit up but my head swims too much, “What… what happened?”
His hands are still near my face from where he was slapping me. I don’t think he’s noticed. Focusing on our surroundings, I find that we’re not in my trailer, which is where I’m pretty sure we last were.
Shaking his head, he locks worried eyes on mine, “I don’t know. I just woke up a few minutes ago. It looks like we’re in some sort of basement.”
Ignoring my protesting head, I begin to survey the chipped walls, lumpy, stained bed, the small cabinet, the couch, the tiny sink, a broken toilet in the corner, the paintings on the walls of distorted faces… Everything in the room has an eerie feeling about it, like it’s all just been taken from a horror movie like The Shining or Amityville Horror… “Fuck, this place is creepy. How the hell’d we get here?”
Shaking his head, Jensen gets to his feet, I watch as he heads towards the metal door in the corner. I can see by his increasingly red face that it won’t budge.
Next he goes over to the cabinet. It opens with a squeak. “Empty.”
“At least there’s water,” I murmur, trying to be positive.
He heads over to the faucet, creaks it open. There’s a rumbling, vibrating sound, but not even a drop of moisture trickles out.
“Fuck,” Jensen swears softly.
Plopping down beside me, he peers down, concern filling his face, “You okay?”
I start to nod my head, but end up groaning as my world spins.
“What is it?” he asks urgently.
“Dizzy.”
Before he can say anything, a loud beep sounds out, and a voice booms into the room, “How’re you dear Winchesters doing? I do hope you find your accommodations… satisfactory.” Laughter sounds out and then the voice continues, “Seeing as though you two boys seem so determined to destroy everything in your path… I thought it was about time someone destroyed you before you got too cocky. You never know who you might just piss off. Too bad daddy’s dead, hey? No one to come save the day, boo hoo.”
“What the fuck do you want from us, you creep? We’re actors! Sam and Dean aren‘t real!” Jensen shouts at nothing.
There’s a harsh hiss that fills the room, “Lies! I can see through you. See the truth. You always were a liar, Dean. Too bad little Sammy’s the one who’s hurt; I wouldn’t have minded seeing you break. Ah, well, Sammy in pain looks pretty delicious.”
Automatically Jensen shifts closer to me, arm coming to wrap around me, “What did you do to him?”
“Oh, let’s just say he won’t be up for ghost-hunting anytime soon.”
Jensen’s arms tighten around me. I let him hold me even though my head's aching so badly that I want to scream.
“What the fuck do you want?’
There’s a sigh, “Why do you always have to be so impatient, Dean? Didn’t your mother ever tell you that patience is a virtue? Or wait… your mother died, didn’t she? Oh, how sad. And daddy too? Poor little orphan boys, stuck in a room with a big, bad man holding them there.”
“We’re actors, you sick freak! I’m Jensen Ackles, he’s Jared Padalecki, look us up! We aren’t Sam and Dean!”
“Oh, quit it, Dean. I’m getting tired of this nonsense. And don’t even bother trying to escape. I designed these walls myself. There’s no way out. The toilet will flush once a day at random times..”
Jensen tries one more time, “What do you want from us?’
“Let’s play a game…”
Silence fills the room before the speaker crackles on again.
“… a really fun game. Really simple as well. It’s two-player - that’s you two, of course, one observer - obviously I shall take that pleasure, and one rule.”
The silence drags on, as if he wants us to ask. Finally Jensen gives in, “And what’s that?”
More laughter, followed by, “Kill or be killed.”
Then the speaker goes dead.
“Kill or be killed? What the fuck does that mean?”
Jensen begins pacing up and down the room. I’d ask him to sit down because he’s making me even dizzier, but I know Jensen and I know pacing helps him calm down.
I crawl over to the bed on my hands and knees. I’m sure trying to stand again would be a massive mistake. Pulling myself up, I collapse face first onto the uncomfortable mattress. It smells mouldy, but I just need to sleep so badly. Within minutes I’m gone.
*
I wake to find Jensen’s arms curled around me. It’s like he’s protecting me or something. I know I should feel pathetic, but it actually feels nice. Pressing back slightly, I link my fingers with his, pulling him closer, holding our hands over my heart. He shifts to accommodate me, tightening his arm and shifting his leg slightly over me.
Just as I’m about to drift off once more, the hated voice rings out making us both shift to sitting positions. My head’s still swimming, but it’s not as bad as before.
“Oh, how sweet. Isn’t that just adorable? Brothers seeking comfort from one another. And there I was thinking this would be easy. I guess this’ll have to go on for a bit longer. Get you used to the idea.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jensen calls out.
“I’m going to give you a knife…” Jensen glances at me, his eyebrow raised. “You… Dean. Are going to cut the first letter of your name into dear little Sammy’s skin. Then… maybe I’ll give you a little water.”
Jensen’s on his feet, “You sick bastard! What the hell is wrong with you! We’re not Sam and Dean! We’re actors, we act as them on a television show! Haven’t you ever heard of fantasy? We’re not brothers. We’re not even related!”
There’s a disbelieving scoff. “Yeah right. And the reason you were curled up all nicely around one another over there, is?”
We exchange glances. It could just be my imagination, but I think his cheeks are blushing.
“Yeah, I thought so. Now, Dean, please go and retrieve the knife from the slot in the door.”
Giving me an uncertain glance, Jensen heads towards the door, returning moments later with a gleaming blade, his face paler than I’ve seen in a while.
“Good boy. Now… go ahead and mark your precious little brother.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?” yells Jensen desperately.
“Well, it’s your choice. But you see… I think you need the water. Or at least… I know Sammy-boy does. You aren’t wondering what I gave him to make him so weak? He needs that water, Dean. Are you just going to let him die, all because you couldn’t stomach a simple task?”
Crawling over the bed towards me, Jensen drops the blade between us. He turns his stricken face towards me. Shrugging, I murmur, “I need the water, Jen.”
“I… I can’t,” he stammers shakily.
Nodding, I grab the knife myself, hold it to my arm and -
“Nuh, uh, uh, by a brother’s hand, Sammy. Dean-o over there has to do it himself. He has to watch you bleed by his own doing.”
I hate this person with everything I have for making Jensen do this, making him hurt me when he’d never, ever do so intentionally, is beyond cruel.
Shifting closer to Jensen, I slide my hand down his back, “Hey, it’s okay. We need the water. Let’s just get this over with.”
Tilting his head up, I force him to look at me. A silent understanding passes between us and he nods jerkily. Breathing out a silent sigh of relief, I stretch out my arm, exposing my bare forearm, and gesturing for Jensen to go ahead.
Just before he starts, I whisper, “You, not Dean.”
After giving me a nod, he steels himself and tightens his grip on the knife. I lay my hand over his shaking, white knuckles and gently guide the blade, helping him on. I can take it. If I let Jensen see how much it fucking hurts like hell, he wouldn’t be able to do it.
Blood’s streaming down my arm in a river. Jensen’s eyes are squeezed shut, and I have to pry the knife from his tight hold.
“Well done. So Sammy… have you seen what your brother can do? Have you seen how much he wants to hurt you?”
“Fuck you!” I call weakly, dizziness setting in once more.
“Hmmm, interesting idea. Maybe sometime soon. We’ll see. Your water’s waiting by the way.”
Still avoiding my eyes, Jensen goes towards the door, returning with a single bottle of water.
After placing it down on the floor, he settles down next to me and, using the knife to cut a strip into the couch material, he makes me an improvised bandage, and with a care that would defy even the gentleness nurse, he wraps it around my arm. Then he unscrews the bottle and holds it to my lips, letting me drink in small sips.
I can feel the dizziness decreasing as the water flows into me, washing away whatever it was that the man gave me. Jensen still hasn’t met my eyes. I can see the guilt painted on his face like it would Dean’s. Reaching out, I lay a hand on his knee, “It’s okay, Jen. I know that wasn’t you.”
Keeping his head lowered, he whispers, “I’m sorry.”
It’s hurting him so much more than it’s hurting me. I slide closer to him, wrapping myself around his back and propping my head up on his shoulder. Into his ear, I murmur, “Jen, I told you, it’s okay. Come on, man, we’re going to get through this.”
Relaxing into me, he leans his head against mine. We sit in silence for a few moments, until Jensen sighs, “I’m sorry… Don’t know why I freaked out so much.”
Giving him a squeeze, I pull away.
“Drink some water, who knows when we might get more.”
He nods shakily and takes a swallow.
“Come on, there must be a way out of here.”
After stumbling to my feet, ignoring how my world sways momentarily, I begin to search the room with fake gusto. Truth is: my head hurts like hell; my arm is on fire; and I feel about two seconds away from collapsing. But Jensen needs me to be strong, so strong is what I’ll be.
*
I don’t know how he’s doing it. He’s up and about like a freakin’ jack-in-the-box. It’s as if he was never sick. Maybe that water did more for him than I thought. I feel pretty pathetic for my freak out, I mean, I wasn’t even the one being cut and yet… cutting Jay is so much worse than cutting myself. Not that I’m a masochist or anything like that, but simply because it’s Jared.
There has to be someone out there who’s noticed us missing. There has to be.
“Jay, what’s the last thing you remember?”
Jared peers up from where he’s kneeling before the sink, “Uhm… we were in my trailer… we were playing Madden. How about you?”
I shake my head, “Same thing. How the fuck did he get us here without us waking up or someone stopping him?”
Shrugging, Jared shifts forward and crawls to check beneath the sink, leaving me with a really tempting view of a gorgeous ass. It doesn’t help that he’s wriggling around a bit, waving it in the air enough to tempt the queen of England.
The voice crackles on, and laughter fills the room, “Dean, my boy, it seems you and I are of similar mind… maybe if you’re good I’ll let you get a taste a bit later. Wouldn’t you like that?”
Jared’s head emerges, confusion on his face. I don’t even respond, I just head over to the door to check for weak spots.
As expected, the room is entirely sealed off. The chipped plaster, when scraped away, exposes hard concrete. There’s no way out.
Jared’s splayed out on the bed, eyes sleepy and limps loose. I have to turn away before I do something stupid.
I have no idea what time it is, my watch must have gone missing somewhere along the line.
“Hey, Jay?”
“Hmmm,” he replies shifting on the bed.
“You got the time?”
Pulling out his hand, he checks his wrist, “Nope, it‘s gone.”
I let out a groan. “That bastard took our watches. We have no idea how long we’ve been here, or how long it is until someone starts to look for us. Fuck, we don’t even know if it’s day or night.”
I’m beginning to panic. I always get into these states when I’m either anxious or scared. I’m ashamed to say that it’s the second reason.
Jared shifts on the bed, “Hey, come here,” he gestures, reaching a hand out.
Staring at my feet, I shuffle towards the bed. He grabs hold of my arm and pulls me to lie beside him. Peering down at me, he says calmly, “Jen, this sucks, all of this sucks, but there’s not much we can do about it. There are people who’ll look for us, probably already are.... We just need to keep cool and get through this. We’re alive, we’re together and we’ll be okay.”
Somehow he always knows exactly what to say to bring me back from the edge. I give him a small, embarrassed smile, “Thanks.”
Giving my shoulder a squeeze and pulling away to the side, he chuckles, “No problem.”
Lying in silence, I wish the light would go off. It’s horrible knowing there’s someone out there who’s watching us. I’m busy contemplating the pros and cons of smashing the light bulb when Jay rolls over.
He stares at me for a few moments and then murmurs, “Hey.”
Smiling at his sleep-ruffled state, I reply, “Hey.”
Giving me a grin, he buries his nose in the pillow and murmurs, “G’night Jen.”
“Night Jay,” I say softly, never taking my eyes off him.
I’m still awake when he rolls closer. All I do is move an arm above my head so he can curl around my chest, then I place the arm back around his shoulder. His breath feels nice against my neck. Warm, soothing; I fall asleep with my breathing in sync with his.
It seems like scarcely minutes after my eyes drifted shut, that a clapping sound wakes us up.
“My, my. You two are getting cozy. What would daddy dearest think of this? I’ll bet he’d be real proud of his baby boys. Don’t you think, Dean?”
Wearily I scrub my eyes, pulling away from Jay, “I’m not Dean.”
“Too bad. It’s time to make Sammy bleed again.”
Bile rising up, I yell, “Go to hell!”
Cruel laughter sounds out, “You boys need food. I just happen to have food. We could work something out.”
Desperate for anything but this, I plead, “Wait, let him cut me. Why must it be me?”
“Sorry Dean, but you got enough scars. It’s little Sammy who’s the innocent one. In more ways than one, isn’t that right Dean?”
I shake my head. I don’t want to do this. I’m not going to do this.
Jared's already coming over with the knife, “Jen, we have to eat, man.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I take the knife. I know we do. But that doesn’t make it any easier.
I’m grateful that Jared doesn’t say anything. He just sits there and holds the bandage aside for me to cut near the other letter, but not enough for wherever the camera is to see that the letters aren’t spelling DEAN.
Afterwards, we get two energy bars each, slipped through that slot at the door.
*
I’m getting weaker and weaker. I thought it would get better, but it hasn’t. My head is pounding so loudly I nearly miss what Jensen says to me. Every movement is accompanied by dizziness. My throat feels like it’s been ripped out, and my muscles are on fire.
Hiding it from Jensen is difficult. But I am an actor after all.
I’m sick of this. Sick of not knowing why. Why our lives are being screwed with, why this sick person’s making Jen cut letters of his name into me, why any of this is happening and what the fuck this person wants.
I’m now supposed to have DEAN W carved on my arm. It burns like hell, like I’ve just stuck it into a pot of boiling water. The skin around the letters is raw. I think it’s getting infected. And no matter how many times we change the bandage, it’s always soaked through. I don’t think it’s very hygienic.
Jensen’s freaking out more than ever. His face goes deathly pale each time he has to cut me, and his hands shake like crazy. The only thing that keeps me going is the warmth of his arms each time we curl up to sleep. We’ve even stopped pretending that we don’t enjoy it, and just slide together automatically.
Time has just blurred into one great blob, spent circling the room, trying to find a way out when we’ve searched everything a million times over. I just want to go home. I’m so sick of all of this. There has to be people looking for us. Two actors can’t suddenly go missing from one of their trailers and nobody notices. Someone’s going to find us.
The speaker crackles awake, but I don’t move from where I’ve buried my face in the mattress.
“Now isn’t that a precious sight? Don’t you agree, Dean?”
I have no idea what this guy’s on about, but I know it makes Jensen uncomfortable every time he mentions they have something in common.
“Blood is getting a bit boring, isn’t it, Dean? Well, this should be way more fun. Here’s your challenge Dean-o. You want food. I’ll give you a full meal and a litre of water each. All you have to do… is fuck that nice ass over there.”
Jensen lets out a strangled cry, “No! You sick bastard!”
“Me? I’m not the one who’s been carving his own name into his brother’s flesh, I’m not the one who’s about to fuck his brother. You are, Dean. It’s been your choice all along.”
“No, no.”
Sliding off the bed, I move towards him, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach and the pain in my head.
Kneeling beside him, I take his hand, “Jen,” I call softly, pulling him into a hug.
He looks up and pulls on my hand urgently, “I never wanted this, Jay. I never wanted to hurt you.”
Giving him my most sincere smile, hiding just how terrified I am at the moment, I squeeze his hand. “I know.”
But we need the water. Desperately. We both know it.
Looking down at the floor, he squeezes his eyes shut as he asks, “Have… have you ever done something… like this… with a guy, I mean?”
I shake my head. “I never even had a gay college phase.”
“Oh,” is all he says, a tinge of red appearing on his cheeks.
“What about you?”
He plays with the edge of his shirt, “I… um… well, I’m… I’m bisexual. Shitty time to tell you…I know, but, yeah…”
Nearly swallowing my tongue, I try not to blanch openly. Jensen is gay? That came out the blue. Completely.
Stammering out my response, I try to be positive, “Oh… well, uh… I guess it’s a good thing one of us knows what to… uhm, yeah…” I look away.
“Sob, sob. Get a move on or I’ll cut your reward in half! Make it look good and I might throw in another bottle!”
Scrubbing a hand over my eyes, I get shakily to my feet, “Okay. Okay. We need the water. We can do this. We’re best friends, right? I trust you.”
Jensen swallows visibly, and stands up.
I shuffle around awkwardly, “So… uh, what do we…do?”
There’s a moment’s pause, and then Jensen takes two strides towards me, slides one hand along the curve of my jaw and the other back into my hair, pressing our lips together in a soft, tender motion.
It’s nice. That’s something I never really expected. I mean, sure Jensen’s an attractive guy, even I can see that, but… he’s a guy. I don’t like guys in that way. But this - the soft slide of his lips over mine, the way he’s pressing me back towards the bed, the way his shoulder muscles shift beneath my fingers - this is good.
“Oh, god, Jay,” he murmurs against my lips, and I can't help the soft gasp that escapes me at just how lost he sounds.
That’s when I tumble down, pulling him with me, so that his whole body’s pressed against me; his one leg between mine, rubbing against the telltale arousal in my jeans. Breaking away from our tongues furious struggle, he slides his mouth along my jaw, licking at the sweat on my skin, moving down my neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bite marks in his wake.
He’s moaning my name like it belongs to something precious, his hands running over my skin, dipping beneath my shirt and tugging at my belt loops.
Pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, I breathe out softly, “Jen.”
That propels him into motion, a possessive gleam filling his eyes as he reaches down to grab my shirt, tugging it up over my head, being careful with my injured arm. Then he pulls back, throws off his shirt and shucks his jeans.
Kneeling between my legs, he reaches for my buckle, glancing up, he waits for me to nod before he undoes it and slides my pants down. We quickly lose the boxers as well. Skin on skin, slick slide over slick slide, lips over lips, gasps as new buttons are discovered and pushed, murmurs of each other’s names. I lose myself to the feel of him pressing me down. Being held down is not a thing I’ve experienced… ever. It’s new, it’s different and it’s damn fucking good.
When Jensen reaches between me, whispering soothing words all the while, and presses a spit-slick finger inside of me, I tense up, suddenly doused with a bucket of icy water.
“Shhh,” Jensen murmurs into my ear, “I’ll take care of you. Just relax.”
I try to, I really do, but it’s just too uncomfortable, too foreign. Pressing his lips to mine, he wriggles the finger slightly.
“Oh, god! Jen, fuck, what was that?” I try to push down; try to get his finger to brush over that spot again.
He lets out a relieved laugh against my lips, “Meet your prostate, Jay.”
I’ve never felt this overwhelmed with sensations. From his lips, his tongue, his body, his fingers, all of him, over me, against me, in me, it’s like everything I never knew I wanted. I want more.
A few more fingers later, and I can‘t stand it, “Jen, now, please, in me now.”
His eyes flash, now completely darkened and he pulls his fingers out gently. Spreading pre-come over his shaft, he guides himself inside me. It’s painful. It burns like hell. But it’s Jensen and just that fact makes me relax and allow him to slide inside.
Panting, he holds himself in place, waiting for me to adjust.
“So beautiful, Jay. Fuck, you’re gorgeous, you know that? Feel so good around me.”
Blushing furiously, I arch up to catch his lips in a kiss, “Move, fuck, Jen. Move.”
And he does, with long, deep thrusts that make him go further into me than I ever imagined possible. He keeps hitting that spot that makes me see stars, and it’s better than anything I’ve ever experienced.
His body fits perfectly over mine as he pounds into me. It’s amazing to see him like this: as gone as I am. But the soft, gentle kisses he places on my lips go beyond the fiery passion. They’re Jensen being Jensen.
When he reaches between us and starts jerking me off, I don’t last long. Coming with a cry of, “Oh, god, Jen!” I fall limp as he continues to slam into me.
With a long, low groan of my name, he shoots his release deep inside of me. It’s warm and weird, but not disgusting. Still in a daze, he lifts up to press the gentlest of kisses to my lips and then buries his head in my shoulder, falling asleep on top of me.
Just as I am drifting off as well, the voice booms out and Jensen jerks awake, “Oh, that was brilliant. Absolutely pornistic. What’s incest look like in the book of God?”
“Fuck you,” growls Jensen, rolling slightly so his weight‘s not completely on me.
“Oh, no, get it right, it’s ‘fuck Sammy’, not me.”
“Where’s the food and drink? We made it good, didn’t we?”
*
I hate this place. Hate it so bad that I’m surprised it hasn’t crumbed to bits. I hate it for doing this to us, hate it for making us do these things, hate it for stealing Jay’s innocence. Hate it for making me steal Jay’s innocence. Because that voice is right: it’s my name marring Jared’s perfect skin, it was me who took away his sexual innocence. It was me, all me.
And for what? Food? Water? The supply only ends as soon as it arrives, how much longer do we have to play this game? We will always need food. Always need water. That man could make us do nearly anything. We can’t do anything else. We need to survive.
“Dean, go to the door.”
And I have to go.
The only comfort I have is Jared. When he’s curled in my arms, warm and alive, he’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I love it when we sleep, when he folds himself against me, allowing me the contact I’ve been dreaming of for a hell of a lot longer than we’ve been in this place. I hate myself for wanting Jared so much, when that man makes me fuck him, I hate myself for not being able to hide my feelings. I feel so guilty for enjoying it. I just feel guilty.
*
I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so tired all of the time. My head aches, the bright light boring into my eyes like a jackhammer. I don’t know what I would do if it weren’t for Jensen. When we sleep, I’m allowed to hide my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in everything that I associate with home. He makes me feel safe. Even when he’s told to cut me, hurt me or anything else, I can always see how much it kills him.
When the pain gets too much and my delirious mind starts playing games with me, making me doubt Jensen, I only have to look into his eyes and see the love there.
I don’t know how long we’ve been here, I only know that my arm now bears JENSEN A. It’s supposed to be DEAN WIN, but fortunately each time we change the bandages, the blood, dried and new, is too much for the letters to be visible unless you’re up close.
It’s weird to be branded like this. Weird to be branded with Jensen’s name. But if I think about it, who else’s name would I prefer? It just makes sense that’s it’s him.
I’d be dead without him. I know I would. The only thing that keeps me going, the only thing that I get up for, the only thing that makes any of this bearable, is Jensen. I love him. I really do.
And it’s such a weird feeling. Completely different to how I loved Sandy. With Sandy it was a warmth in my chest every time I saw her. Now, every time I lay eyes on Jensen, something burns in my chest, a deep ache that makes me hate the short distance between us.
I feel like the world could end, I could die, everything could be over, but I won’t care, not if Jensen can just hold me for a little bit longer.
**
CONTINUED