Fic: A Fire of Unknown Origin

[merepersiflage]

Title: “A Fire of Unknown Origin”
Author: merepersiflage
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Category: kinky porn
Word Count:3600
Summary: Sammy goes a little far to get Dean to indulge his pain kink which they discovered in Pushed Buttons, Crossed Wires
Warnings: incest, graphic m/m sex, language, light S&M
Disclaimer: I think that should be obvious.
Notes: You don’t have to have read the earlier fics to follow this. It’s just smut. Thanks to la_folle_allure for letting me recycle her use of BOC’s song for my title. It just seemed to fit this fic.





“Where the hell is it?”

“What?”

“My Arkansas whetstone?”

“Oh, my duffle.”

“You better not have-it’s chipped. What the fuck did you do to it?”

Sam shrugged.

“Sam?”

He looked over. Sam was wearing a smug expression, like he’d deliberately screwed with it.

It was the kind of shit he might have pulled when they were kids just to piss Dad off but now that he knew how much they depended on everything being ready to go, he’d thought Sam had gotten over that crap, that “let me make it fucking clear how much I don’t want to be here.”

“Why the fuck would you do that, Sam?”

Sam shrugged again, closed the laptop and pushed up from his chair.

“Just tryin’ to piss me off?”

“Maybe.” Sam crossed the room in two steps to get in his face. “What are you going to do about it?”

And then he knew what the hell was going on. Yeah, forgive him for being a little slow, but it had only been a month that his already fucked up sex life with his brother had taken an even sicker twist when he’d figured out that hurting his baby brother got them both off like nothing else.

It had been a month since they’d done any thing like that. They’d done their usual amount of fucking, just not with the extras. Unless you counted the times when Dean pinched and squeezed the slow healing welt the birch switch had left on Sam’s ass until they both came like volcanoes.

And Dean had been thinking about it-not just the times when catching sight of the marks he’d put on his brother’s body made his dick twitch. No, he’d thought about it other times, too. Thought about it all the way into a certain shop the next time they were in a big enough city, and tried to stop thinking about it long enough to make a purchase and make it out of the shop while he could still walk.

But it just wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. It worked-damn, it worked-and that was enough for Dean. He just wasn’t sure how to get things rolling again. How could you say, “In the mood for me to beat your ass, Sam?” without feeling like a complete bastard? But Sam had figured out a way. Dean just wished it hadn’t screwed up his black Arkansas whetstone.

“Oh.” Dean measured the challenge in his brother’s eyes and wondered exactly how far they were going this time. “You know, you could have just asked.”

“More fun this way.”

“Think so? I’m pretty fucking pissed about my whetstone.” He looked Sam up and down. “Strip.”

Sam dropped his clothes in a pile at his feet. Dean looked him over again. Yeah. Sam’s dick gave every indication of enjoying this game. Under Dean’s gaze it rose further to angle toward his stomach. His own dick wasn’t far behind and he undid his fly to give himself a little room.

“On the bed.”

Sam crawled up. Too bad this quick obedience only seemed to extend as far as sex because it would be kind of refreshing to get through a hunt without having Sam question everything that came out of his mouth.

He didn’t even have to tell him “face down.”

He wasn’t going to let himself think about this. Sam wanted it; he wanted it. He climbed up on the bed behind him, and reached out to press Sam’s face and shoulders down. He saw the grin on Sam’s face before he turned to hide it in the pillow.

“You think it’s funny? Black Arkansas whetstones aren’t cheap.” He let the little bit of anger push away the last of the guilt and discomfort. “Don’t even fucking think about moving.”

He drew his hand back and let it fly. His hand tingled, burned and then a pink spot rushed up on Sam’s ass. Sam swayed but didn’t move. He smacked him again, and Sam panted into the pillows.

“Just warming things up.”

He aimed and the next smack got him right underneath, just where his ass met his thighs, and Sam moaned, but he still didn’t move.

“Don’t want to overdo it. Why don’t you count for me? I think ten ought to be a good start.”

“Ten?”

“And five more for running your mouth. Fifteen, Sam. Let’s hear it.”

The sound cracked through the room. Sam grunted.

“I can’t hear that. Let’s start again.”

He aimed again, smacking hard enough to shove him forward a bit.

“One.” Sam’s voice was deep and clear.

He spaced out two and three, put four on the top of his thighs again, getting a good moan with his “Four.”

After five he laid his hand gently on the red skin, his hand burning, but not as much as the flesh beneath it. Six and seven were hard and fast. Sam’s teeth were clenched hard enough to make “Eight” barely audible.

“Can’t hear you. Want me to start again?” He hoped not. He had something else in mind.

“Eight.” Sam said more loudly, only the trace of a gasp in his voice.

Nine hurt his hand, and there was more than a gasp in his brother’s voice now.

“Ten.” Sam was breathing hard.

Dean ran his hand over the hot skin, over his hip and down to grip his cock. Sam froze, not even bucking into his grip. He stroked once, twice, getting an even more pained moan from his brother’s lips. He bet Sam wished he’d kept his mouth shut now.

He eased up a little on eleven, twelve and thirteen, the contrast making fourteen and fifteen burst from Sam’s lips with a cry as they came close enough to be one hard smack.

He rubbed the skin again, and got a whimper. Sam was ready for his surprise.

“Don’t move,” he reminded him. He slid off the bed and fuck he was so horny it took him a second to not pass out from the lack of blood flow anywhere but his dick and throbbing right hand. He shoved off his pants before he wobbled over to retrieve his purchase. Nine inches of stiff but supple leather, one side decorated with silver grommets that would make an interesting pattern when he laid the paddle into Sam’s skin. But maybe not tonight. Then again . . .

“You know, I really liked that whetstone.”

To Sam, Dean’s voice had taken on a whole new threat. And damned if it didn’t go right to his dick. He might have pushed things a little far just to get Dean to indulge his pain kink, but he’d gotten tired of waiting. Dean climbed back on the bed behind him and ran a hand over his burning ass again. It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt, because it really did, but just like when Dean slid hard and deep into his ass it hurt in a way that made his dick really happy. Hurt in a way that a stubbed toe didn’t. Hurt good.

He heard the sound before he felt it a whoosh from the air and then something slapped across his ass so hard he thought it might have shoved him forward about a foot. He turned around to look

“What the fuck is that?”

Dean shoved his head back down and hit him again. God, a rush of fire that just flowed off his ass and down his thighs, leaving him feeling so good he could almost forget how much it hurt when it first landed on his skin.

“Did I tell you you could move?”

That exquisite crack again, hard enough to make his eyes water and then that perfect rush of heat, pouring from his ass, pooling in his dick.

Dean shoved something in to his line of sight. “Bought ya a present, Sammy.”

Sam looked at the paddle in Dean’s hand and swallowed. That fucker hurt. He could feel his ass swelling from the two times Dean had hit him with it. The pain hadn’t affected his dick at all, he could feel it leaking, rising against his abdomen.

“So what do you think you owe me for that whetstone?”

Sam wasn’t sure how many he could take with that paddle. He liked the pulse of blood in his ass, the rush of heat, but he wasn’t sure how much would take to push it over into too much.

“I don’t think you can pay full price,” Dean continued. “It was almost forty dollars. I’ll give you a special rate. We’ll go with a dozen. And I want to hear you count nice and clear, and if you move again, I’m doubling it.”

Sam let out a long controlled breath, but it didn’t do any good when the first stroke landed at the top of his thighs. “One.”

His mind started to wander on four. He didn’t like pain generally. You didn’t grow up a Winchester without living through a lot of pain. It was just something you got through. Stitches, dislocations, cracked ribs, Sam had been through it all. And none of it had gotten him hard. He couldn’t really remember Dad hitting either of them much. Once or twice when they were little and grabbed something dangerous, one backhand when he’d pushed too far as a teen. Where the hell had this come from?

“Five.” He wished Dean wouldn’t make him count. He liked going off somewhere in his head where he could just feel and Fuck! “Six.” It was a lot harder than the last five. Maybe-

“I thought maybe you were getting a little distracted.”

Dean trailed the leather edge down the crack of his ass, while his hand slid under his balls and grabbed his dick. He squeezed down hard at the base, and Sam groaned. He wanted to turn so bad just to see Dean’s face.

Crack “S-seven.” Fuck, it was hard to keep track now. He bit down hard on his lip. Everything was burning, his thighs, his ass, his dick. “Eight.” He wasn’t going to make it. He could hear the break in his voice.

“Tell me to stop, Sam. Just tell me and I will.”

There were going to be bruises, blisters, his fucking ass was going to be purple, but he wasn’t giving in. He was panting now, trying to get air back that Dean drove out of him with every smack of that stinging leather. And some how he was still there, waiting for it. His ass fucking curving up for it. “Ten.” He couldn’t do two more. But instead of begging he just counted “Eleven.” His body was rocking, but Dean didn’t say anything. He could hear his brother’s hard breaths, even louder than his own. Everything stopped for a second as he waited for that last stroke. Nothing but the echo of breaths and the blood pounding in his ass.

When it came, so hard it drove him forward, his head slammed into the headboard. Dean laid his hand on his ass and that light touch was enough to make him ache.

“God you’re so fucking hot. Jesus, Sam.”

And there it was, the love and awe in Dean’s voice that made that burn just turn so fucking sweet, he could feel his dick swell even harder.

“Roll over.”

It took his brain a while to compute that. Dean really didn’t expect him to roll onto his ass, now, did he?

“Now.”

He did. Sam shifted. The first brush of the sheets against his skin had him arching up, and Dean just pushed him down again. Dean straddled him, hands outside his shoulders.

“We doin’ this or not?”

Sam’s voice felt trapped in his throat but he finally managed a choked “Yeah.”

Dean got up off the bed and dug around in his duffle. Sam’s ass was so hot he was surprised the whole fucking bed hadn’t gone up in flames. Dean came back with a candle and his lighter.

“You know, Sam, in my long and varied career, I actually did this once. On the receiving end.”

Sam stared at the flame, watched the wax start to drip.

“It’s gonna be really important that you don’t move.”

Dean tilted the candle high above his chest and let a drop of wax splash, just a tickle of warmth. Sam caught his breath, and then Dean was moving the candle lower, and it burned, split second bursts of fire on his chest and then down to his belly. He had to fight to keep himself still which meant he had to press his ass down into the bed and it was too much, too much.

He looked up. Dean was watching him, a waiting look in his eyes. And he had to keep going. Had to know how far they could go.

Dean lifted the candle again and Sam caught his breath.

“Spread your legs.”

Sam did. Inside, he was as liquid as the wax, everything sliding hot and smooth wherever Dean pushed him.

Dean teased the inside of his thighs with the paddle, light smacks that did nothing but make his skin more sensitive. He was already all exposed nerves, where every touch was a perfect blend of pain and pleasure. His ass burned against the sheets, the smack of leather tingled his thighs, and his chest ignited under the silvery splash of wax. He should have been hot but he was shivering, as if Dean was dropping ice on him instead of dripping flames.

Dean let another drop hit him and landed a sharp smack on his thigh in the same instant. The double sting made the edges of his vision blur. Dean bent down and sucked in the head of his cock just as he swung the candle over a nipple.

Sam arched off the bed, up into Dean’s soft mouth, up into the blaze of wax on his chest.

Dean backed off again, the paddle licking back and forth in quick flicks against his thighs.

“Enough? Sam, god, please tell me.”

Sam could only groan, couldn’t find the words to tell him about that perfect screaming fire on every nerve. The sputter of wax fell lower down his belly.

Dean gave his dick another hard suck, then a few strokes of his tongue followed another harder smack on his thigh. Sam couldn’t remember what was supposed to hurt and what was supposed to feel good anymore. He was rolling back and forth between the sharp edges of pain and pleasure. He wanted the burn and the sting as much as the sweet pressure on his dick. Dean came up again, and Sam watched his eyes as he tipped the candle. The next drop fell right on the side of his dick and Sam started begging, nothing but his brother’s name, and he wasn’t sure if he needed him to stop right the hell now or fucking never.

Even under the constant slap of leather against his thighs he could hear the hiss of the candle as Dean pressed out the flame between his fingers. Dean watched him for a minute, his eyes holding Sam’s as his thighs burned as much as every inch of skin that had been kissed by the wax. He watched Dean’s head go down, oh so slowly until Dean was scraping the wax off his dick with his teeth and that was finally it. “Stop.” God, was that his voice?

Dean soothed him with long licks, his mouth soft and wet. “It’s okay. I got ya.” Dean settled between his thighs, hands sliding underneath to pull on his still burning ass. “Damn, Sammy, you may be hotter outside than in right now.”

He watched Dean suck a finger into his mouth, watched the heat and want in Dean’s eyes as he drove his finger in just as he rolled his lips over Sam’s cock again. Then Sam couldn’t see anything but the inside of his skull as his eyes rolled back in his head and he came inside out, all that heat flooding out of him, into Dean’s mouth. Dean sucked him all the way through, his finger curling inside him, knuckles digging into his bruised ass and that must have been why he couldn’t stop shooting.

Dean sucked the last drops out of him until he pushed at his head, unable to even find the energy to roll away as his cock got too sensitive. Dean pulled off with a last wet kiss before climbing over him.

“God, Sammy.”

Sam could feel the press of his brother’s cock against his stomach as he lowered his lips to his chest, but he didn’t think he could even find the strength to jerk him off.

Dean’s teeth pulled at a burning spot on his chest while his fingers rubbed away on his stomach.

“All right, Sammy?” Dean whispered against his tingling skin.

“Yeah.”

Dean’s cock brushed against the burns on his belly rubbed into the sore spots. “So hot. I-” His hips jerked. “Oh, god, can I fuck you, please?”

Dean told him he was going to fuck him lots of times, but Sam didn’t think Dean had ever asked like that, had ever sounded like he’d die if he couldn’t be inside him.

“Yeah,” he said again.

Dean’s mouth vibrated against his chest as he groaned into him before lifting himself off.

“Want me on my knees?”

And if he wasn’t so completely wrung out, he’d gotten hard again at the sound Dean made before muttering, “Nah. Like that.”

The lube was icy on his skin, but he was so deeply relaxed that Dean had two fingers inside him before he even felt his body resist. Dean’s fingers stroked inside him, twisted, and he’d have sworn there was no possible way he could get hard again for at least a week when he felt the blood pulse deep in his dick.

Dean’s fingers slid out and then back in, god-three now or it had to be his fist, and Sam pushed down, that bruised skin scraping against the sheets as he fucked himself on Dean’s fingers.

“That’s it, Sammy.” Dean’s other hand was running up and down his chest, scraping away the last of the wax, burning and soothing as he rubbed all those hot spots.

His dick was getting heavy with blood and it ached, god, it ached but it was promising him heaven and he let himself slide into that painful arousal.

Dean pulled him onto his thighs and drove in with a thrust Sam could feel reverberate up the length of his spine. He held him there, so deep inside him he could taste him.

Dean’s hands cupped his ass, fingers pressing into skin swelling with blood and bruises, a fresh splash of pain throbbing through him, pulsing in his dick. His sore thighs rubbed on the outside of Dean’s hips and he slipped farther and farther into that place where pain was everything he needed, everything he wanted, as long as Dean was causing it. He fucked back onto his cock. Ragged breaths scratched at his throat as Dean squeezed harder and the pain crackled like lightning inside his bones.

“Sammy.”

It was just a murmur but he had to open his eyes.

Dean’s teeth sank into his lip as he arched and slammed into him, hips going like pistons. He shifted his grip again and broke into a jumble of words. “I can feel how much I hurt you. Why, Sammy?” Dean’s eyes snapped open, caught and held his. “How can you let me, how can I want to? God, so good, so hot. Jesus look at you.”

Sam watched him come apart, and he would have taken another round with the paddle if he knew that it would hit Dean like this, make him so fucking beautiful as he lost control and jerked into him. He arched his back and Dean’s cock pounded him just right, so good inside that he only needed to grab his dick before a quick and brutal orgasm shook him.

He got his senses back just in time to feel Dean splash inside him, a last thrust of heat, right into his guts. He couldn’t remember how to breathe right, the whole thing an embarrassing mess of stutters and gasps and whines.

Dean left him like that, fighting for air, as he pushed off the bed and came back with a washcloth. He rubbed the cool cotton over the still burning spots on his chest, until Sam couldn’t stand the look on his face and knocked the cloth out of his hand.

He grabbed his brother’s wrist and pulled him down on top of him, tangling his arms and legs. “Shut up,” he said.

“I didn’t say anything.” Dean held himself perfectly still.

He could feel Dean’s heart thudding against his chest. “And don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“I asked for it, okay?”

“Yeah, ya did.” Dean finally managed a laugh. “You think you could find another way, maybe without pissing me off and ruining my stuff?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Dean rolled them on their sides and smacked his ass.

Sam jumped. “Goddamnit, Dean. That really hurts.”

“I really liked that whetstone.”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

“How the hell did you chip it any way? The things are fucking indestructible.”

“Hammer, chisel and a lot of work.”

Sam fell asleep with the warmth of Dean’s laugh in his ear.

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