A Promise of More, Supernatural, Very NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: A Promise of More
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A follow on to of sorts to the "Points" ( Which Begins Here)and "Pieces" ( Which Begins Here) and "Paints" ( Which begins here") Verse......Dean gets his turn.
Warnings/Author's Notes: I apologize in adbance. Dark, ugly, sexy, violent...includes incest, rape and memory of rape, m/m, torture...is painful folks...
The room is hot…heated…oppressive. Sam shivers anyway as a trickle of sweat slides over slick skin down the rugged slide of his spine, into the heated crevice of his ass, because the shiver has nothing to do with the temperature.
His knees tremble and he’s grateful for the harsh ropes biting into the skin of his wrists…grateful because it keeps him from falling…prevents him from angering his…Dean….because his legs alone won’t hold him anymore. His thighs burn with the strain, his ankles ache. Sweat covers his body like a second skin. He’s lost track of the hours, days maybe since he had…what exactly? Since he’d changed…since he’d discovered the monster in Dean…the monster he’d created.
The stench of death clings to him, though they’ve long since left the killing fields where he’d broken apart and saw himself, saw the monster he had let himself become…since he’d retched until he quivered and stopped thinking. Dean had been gentle then, his hands in Sam’s hair, his voice comforting, soothing him into a dull stupor where the killing and rape and torture blurred away and Sam could move, function…enough to get to the car…enough to leave…enough to not question Dean.
He is there, behind Sam somewhere, watching. His last words were only, “Hold still Sammy. Hold very still,” after he had positioned Sam as he is now, legs spread just past shoulder width, arms bound above his head and to either side, tied off to hooks Dean fixed in the motel wall.
It’s silent now, other than the harsh sound of Sam breathing and the nearly audible strain of his muscles pulled tight. There is come drying in a puddle under him, and he tries not to think about that, about the way Dean had been with him…because that led him to other thoughts…to images of his brother broken and bleeding and giving himself, surrendering himself…as Sam took him in the most vile ways.
Sam shivered again. He’d begged for Dean to kill him…to end it there among the blood and destruction he had wrought…but it was too kind a fate, and even Sam knew that. There was a price…and he had not yet begun to pay it.
He heard movement and stiffened. Dean’s body cut the air, dusted Sam’s back with air as he ghosted a hand down his sides. “We’ve only just begun, Sammy.” Dean whispered, his voice cold, his breath colder still.
Dean moved around him, ducking under the arms strung up and out, his eyes stopping on the heavy, full cock that all this had yet to abate. His eyes glittered and his smile made Sam shake. “Do you see Sam? Do you see what a bad boy you are? How hard you are for me?”
He came in closer, still not touching, though Sam could feel the heat from his hand near his cock. “You want me to touch you, don’t you?”
Sam closed his eyes and tried not to see himself abusing Dean, fucking him senseless on the side of the road…over the dead body of a girl…”No.” It’s whispered, scarcely more than breathed.
Dean’s fingers close over his chin and turn his head. “Look at me Sam.” He pulls harder when Sam’s eye don’t quite open, and Sam forces himself to look. “I am your punishment. You made me what I am.” He lets go and steps. “I learned a lot from you…the other you…shall I show you?”
His hands are tender, sliding over the wet skin of his arms, over his shoulders, up to his face. His lips are soft, and Sam can’t resist as his tongue presses over his lips and into his mouth…he takes whatever Dean is giving because he knows nothing else.
Tears slip over shadowed cheeks as Dean slips around, him, touching and kissing, fingers playing the stretched muscles, making Sam quiver. Dean presses himself against Sam, his naked body burning hot, his fingers tracking over the sharp cut of Sam’s hip bones to meet in a cage around his cock. Sam whimpers because his whole body aches, because his dick hurts with need…because it isn’t going to be that simple.
“You know what you are, don’t you Sam?”
Sam hangs his head. He knows…the memories burn inside him…he can feel the blood on his skin, taste it in his mouth. Dean strokes his cock twice and presses a kiss to the back of Sam’s neck. “A fucking monster.” Dean whispers. “I watched you get off on the blood…tasted it in your mouth.”
His hands move away and Sam moans, not sure if it was in desire or relief. “You fucked and raped and cut and bled…you’re a freak…”
Suddenly there is something cold, dragging over hot skin, sliding over his shoulder blades…cold and flat…then hot and sharp as it slices his skin. He cries out, arches away, but Dean follows. “Do you remember what you did to me, Sammy?”
Dean’s tongue drags over the sting and burn. “How many times you raped my ass?” Sam cries again as the knife bites once more…and Dean’s tongue follows. “The ways you cut me?”
The knife sweeps lower this time, biting into the rounded flesh of his ass and Sam bites his lip to keep himself from making anymore noise. “I told you it was my turn. I want you to keep count, okay? So far I’ve taken your ass twice and cut you three times. Can you remember that?”
Sam nods shakily and Dean’s hand fists in his hair, pulling his head back. “In words Sammy. Tell me.”
“I-I can remember Dean,” he whispers.
“Say it.”
Sam licks his lips as his stomach churns. “You-you’ve fucked my ass twice….c-cut me three times.”
“Good boy.” Dean lets go of his hair and goes back to playing the knife across his body. “And how many times have I let you come?”
Sam shivers as the point of the knife skirts along his ribs. It would be so easy to just lean into it…but before the thought is fully in his head, the blade was gone. “Answer me.”
“None…none. I haven’t come.”
“No…you haven’t…and look at you…you’re a mess…” His hand brings the flat of the blade over Sam’s throat, down his chest, stopping just above his dick. “I could fix that…fix everything…”
“Please.” Sam moans without realizing it…please do it…take it…kill me.
Dean slams his cock up inside him hard and fast, no warning, no easing. Sam’s body jerks, moving his cock dangerously close to the edge of the knife. Dean chuckles and pulles out before slamming back in. “Not gonna go like that, baby brother. Gonna fuck you and cut you…gonna show you what it’s like to be a fucking whore…Like you showed that little girl…do you remember how she begged? How you fucked her and made that boy fuck her? How you made her daddy come in her mouth?” Dean rocks even harder now, the knife making tiny marks against Sam’s thigh.
And Sam does remember…how she’d cried and begged and bled when he’d taken her, bent her over the table in the diner…He can’t take it back, can’t make the sound of her voice leave his head…”And you know what’s sicker than all of that, Sammy boy?” Dean slams in deep and stops. “Do you?”
“Please…Dean…I can’t…I can’t…” Sam sags against the ropes, ignoring the bite and sting as they dig deeper into his skin. There’s a sharp sting and he feels blood, hot and sticky flow down his thigh.
“You can and you will.” Dean says in his ear, voice deep and commanding and cruel. “You have sins to atone for, Sammy…and I’m going to bleed you for them.”
Dean is silent then, but for the groaning as he fucks into Sam, his mouth biting patterns into his shoulders. “The sick thing is, baby brother, is that you still get hard thinking about it…and they only thing that can make you come harder than thinking about how you raped her is how I’m raping you now.” His hand closes over Sam’s screaming cock and with two strokes, Sam is coming, throwing his head back against Dean, mouth open as he cries and comes and shakes.
Dean drops the knife then and uses both hands to position Sam more to his liking before fucking up into him hard and coming quickly. As he pulls out, the fluid leaks onto what is already on the floor and he comes around to Sam’s face.
“I know everything about you Sammy…and I’m going to show it to you…little by little…until you come to understand what you are.”
He is gentle again, his hand warm and soothing as it strokes over his collarbone and up to his cheek. “Do you know what that is?”
“A monster.” Sam whispers with little hesitation, his eyes on Dean’s feet.
He feels Dean’s smile more than sees it. “Well, yes…there is that. I was thinking of something else though.” His hand on Sam’s face pulls until Sam is looking in his eyes. He looks at Sam for a long moment, then leans in close. “Nothing Sam…you are nothing…dirty, filthy, unclear whore of nothing. That’s what you are.”
He moves back to stare at Sam, looking for the reaction Sam just couldn’t muster. There is fury in the hazel green depths of Dean’s eyes. Fury and a promise of more…so much more. Sam shivers again in the heat and drops his gaze.
Dean lets go, steps back, his eyes sweeping over Sam’s sagging and sweating form. “Tell me Sam. What’s our count now?
It takes him a moment to find his voice. “F-four…you’ve c-cut me four times, and fucked my ass three…”
Sam’s whole body shakes and it doesn’t stop…the images in his head won’t stop, the sensations, the sounds of voices begging for their lives, the taste of blood and fear…and he’s ashamed that he’s just come and his cock is already stirring again… ”And…I’ve…come…you let me…made me come once.”
Dean seems satisfied and walks away, leaving Sam bound. When he returns it is only to secure a gag around Sam’s head and swat at his naked ass. “I’m going to get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”
Title: A Promise of More
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A follow on to of sorts to the "Points" ( Which Begins Here)and "Pieces" ( Which Begins Here) and "Paints" ( Which begins here") Verse......Dean gets his turn.
Warnings/Author's Notes: I apologize in adbance. Dark, ugly, sexy, violent...includes incest, rape and memory of rape, m/m, torture...is painful folks...
The room is hot…heated…oppressive. Sam shivers anyway as a trickle of sweat slides over slick skin down the rugged slide of his spine, into the heated crevice of his ass, because the shiver has nothing to do with the temperature.
His knees tremble and he’s grateful for the harsh ropes biting into the skin of his wrists…grateful because it keeps him from falling…prevents him from angering his…Dean….because his legs alone won’t hold him anymore. His thighs burn with the strain, his ankles ache. Sweat covers his body like a second skin. He’s lost track of the hours, days maybe since he had…what exactly? Since he’d changed…since he’d discovered the monster in Dean…the monster he’d created.
The stench of death clings to him, though they’ve long since left the killing fields where he’d broken apart and saw himself, saw the monster he had let himself become…since he’d retched until he quivered and stopped thinking. Dean had been gentle then, his hands in Sam’s hair, his voice comforting, soothing him into a dull stupor where the killing and rape and torture blurred away and Sam could move, function…enough to get to the car…enough to leave…enough to not question Dean.
He is there, behind Sam somewhere, watching. His last words were only, “Hold still Sammy. Hold very still,” after he had positioned Sam as he is now, legs spread just past shoulder width, arms bound above his head and to either side, tied off to hooks Dean fixed in the motel wall.
It’s silent now, other than the harsh sound of Sam breathing and the nearly audible strain of his muscles pulled tight. There is come drying in a puddle under him, and he tries not to think about that, about the way Dean had been with him…because that led him to other thoughts…to images of his brother broken and bleeding and giving himself, surrendering himself…as Sam took him in the most vile ways.
Sam shivered again. He’d begged for Dean to kill him…to end it there among the blood and destruction he had wrought…but it was too kind a fate, and even Sam knew that. There was a price…and he had not yet begun to pay it.
He heard movement and stiffened. Dean’s body cut the air, dusted Sam’s back with air as he ghosted a hand down his sides. “We’ve only just begun, Sammy.” Dean whispered, his voice cold, his breath colder still.
Dean moved around him, ducking under the arms strung up and out, his eyes stopping on the heavy, full cock that all this had yet to abate. His eyes glittered and his smile made Sam shake. “Do you see Sam? Do you see what a bad boy you are? How hard you are for me?”
He came in closer, still not touching, though Sam could feel the heat from his hand near his cock. “You want me to touch you, don’t you?”
Sam closed his eyes and tried not to see himself abusing Dean, fucking him senseless on the side of the road…over the dead body of a girl…”No.” It’s whispered, scarcely more than breathed.
Dean’s fingers close over his chin and turn his head. “Look at me Sam.” He pulls harder when Sam’s eye don’t quite open, and Sam forces himself to look. “I am your punishment. You made me what I am.” He lets go and steps. “I learned a lot from you…the other you…shall I show you?”
His hands are tender, sliding over the wet skin of his arms, over his shoulders, up to his face. His lips are soft, and Sam can’t resist as his tongue presses over his lips and into his mouth…he takes whatever Dean is giving because he knows nothing else.
Tears slip over shadowed cheeks as Dean slips around, him, touching and kissing, fingers playing the stretched muscles, making Sam quiver. Dean presses himself against Sam, his naked body burning hot, his fingers tracking over the sharp cut of Sam’s hip bones to meet in a cage around his cock. Sam whimpers because his whole body aches, because his dick hurts with need…because it isn’t going to be that simple.
“You know what you are, don’t you Sam?”
Sam hangs his head. He knows…the memories burn inside him…he can feel the blood on his skin, taste it in his mouth. Dean strokes his cock twice and presses a kiss to the back of Sam’s neck. “A fucking monster.” Dean whispers. “I watched you get off on the blood…tasted it in your mouth.”
His hands move away and Sam moans, not sure if it was in desire or relief. “You fucked and raped and cut and bled…you’re a freak…”
Suddenly there is something cold, dragging over hot skin, sliding over his shoulder blades…cold and flat…then hot and sharp as it slices his skin. He cries out, arches away, but Dean follows. “Do you remember what you did to me, Sammy?”
Dean’s tongue drags over the sting and burn. “How many times you raped my ass?” Sam cries again as the knife bites once more…and Dean’s tongue follows. “The ways you cut me?”
The knife sweeps lower this time, biting into the rounded flesh of his ass and Sam bites his lip to keep himself from making anymore noise. “I told you it was my turn. I want you to keep count, okay? So far I’ve taken your ass twice and cut you three times. Can you remember that?”
Sam nods shakily and Dean’s hand fists in his hair, pulling his head back. “In words Sammy. Tell me.”
“I-I can remember Dean,” he whispers.
“Say it.”
Sam licks his lips as his stomach churns. “You-you’ve fucked my ass twice….c-cut me three times.”
“Good boy.” Dean lets go of his hair and goes back to playing the knife across his body. “And how many times have I let you come?”
Sam shivers as the point of the knife skirts along his ribs. It would be so easy to just lean into it…but before the thought is fully in his head, the blade was gone. “Answer me.”
“None…none. I haven’t come.”
“No…you haven’t…and look at you…you’re a mess…” His hand brings the flat of the blade over Sam’s throat, down his chest, stopping just above his dick. “I could fix that…fix everything…”
“Please.” Sam moans without realizing it…please do it…take it…kill me.
Dean slams his cock up inside him hard and fast, no warning, no easing. Sam’s body jerks, moving his cock dangerously close to the edge of the knife. Dean chuckles and pulles out before slamming back in. “Not gonna go like that, baby brother. Gonna fuck you and cut you…gonna show you what it’s like to be a fucking whore…Like you showed that little girl…do you remember how she begged? How you fucked her and made that boy fuck her? How you made her daddy come in her mouth?” Dean rocks even harder now, the knife making tiny marks against Sam’s thigh.
And Sam does remember…how she’d cried and begged and bled when he’d taken her, bent her over the table in the diner…He can’t take it back, can’t make the sound of her voice leave his head…”And you know what’s sicker than all of that, Sammy boy?” Dean slams in deep and stops. “Do you?”
“Please…Dean…I can’t…I can’t…” Sam sags against the ropes, ignoring the bite and sting as they dig deeper into his skin. There’s a sharp sting and he feels blood, hot and sticky flow down his thigh.
“You can and you will.” Dean says in his ear, voice deep and commanding and cruel. “You have sins to atone for, Sammy…and I’m going to bleed you for them.”
Dean is silent then, but for the groaning as he fucks into Sam, his mouth biting patterns into his shoulders. “The sick thing is, baby brother, is that you still get hard thinking about it…and they only thing that can make you come harder than thinking about how you raped her is how I’m raping you now.” His hand closes over Sam’s screaming cock and with two strokes, Sam is coming, throwing his head back against Dean, mouth open as he cries and comes and shakes.
Dean drops the knife then and uses both hands to position Sam more to his liking before fucking up into him hard and coming quickly. As he pulls out, the fluid leaks onto what is already on the floor and he comes around to Sam’s face.
“I know everything about you Sammy…and I’m going to show it to you…little by little…until you come to understand what you are.”
He is gentle again, his hand warm and soothing as it strokes over his collarbone and up to his cheek. “Do you know what that is?”
“A monster.” Sam whispers with little hesitation, his eyes on Dean’s feet.
He feels Dean’s smile more than sees it. “Well, yes…there is that. I was thinking of something else though.” His hand on Sam’s face pulls until Sam is looking in his eyes. He looks at Sam for a long moment, then leans in close. “Nothing Sam…you are nothing…dirty, filthy, unclear whore of nothing. That’s what you are.”
He moves back to stare at Sam, looking for the reaction Sam just couldn’t muster. There is fury in the hazel green depths of Dean’s eyes. Fury and a promise of more…so much more. Sam shivers again in the heat and drops his gaze.
Dean lets go, steps back, his eyes sweeping over Sam’s sagging and sweating form. “Tell me Sam. What’s our count now?
It takes him a moment to find his voice. “F-four…you’ve c-cut me four times, and fucked my ass three…”
Sam’s whole body shakes and it doesn’t stop…the images in his head won’t stop, the sensations, the sounds of voices begging for their lives, the taste of blood and fear…and he’s ashamed that he’s just come and his cock is already stirring again… ”And…I’ve…come…you let me…made me come once.”
Dean seems satisfied and walks away, leaving Sam bound. When he returns it is only to secure a gag around Sam’s head and swat at his naked ass. “I’m going to get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”