Plan B (Supernatural, Dean/Amazons, R)
Title: Plan B
Author: cleflink
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Prompt: Dean/OCs, Amazons and strong women - ladies, it's been great, but I don't do the whole 'completely at your mercy' thing.
Warnings: very glossed het sex and Dean's foul mouth. No spoilers
Word Count: 3200
A/N: This is me taking prompts way too literally
Summary: Case fic. Dean totally isn't complaining about being bait. Really.
Sometimes the things they went up against were just weird.
"Amazons?" Dean repeated, flicking at Sam's ear until he moved his big head out of the way of the computer screen. "You mean like those warrior chicks who cut off their right tits so they could shoot a bow?"
"Pretty much," Sam agreed, digging a half-hearted elbow into Dean's side in response. "And before you ask, yes I'm sure they're not actually the women from American Gladiators."
"Damn." Dean shrugged philosophically. "Oh well, I'm sure hot titless Greek chicks-"
"Probably Scythian actually."
"-are just as good," he finished, with a roll of his eyes. "Why do you have to be such a dork?"
"Guess that's how my brother raised me," Sam shot back sweetly and Dean cuffed him upside the head.
"I can't believe we're related. So what are these hotties doing here anyway? Last time I checked, Amazons weren't spirits or anything."
Sam shrugged out a sigh. "Another Tibetan spirit sigil?" he tried, not even trying to make it sound like he wasn't guessing. "Cursed object? Summoning ritual? Dean, even the Romans weren't that clear on what the Amazons were - I won't know what we're up against until we get some more information."
"Great." Dean made a face at the ceiling. "Tell me you can at least explain what the hell they're doing with all those dudes they've been grabbing."
Sam gave him the look that meant Sam'd met swamp monsters quicker on the uptake than Dean was. "Gee Dean, a girls-only warrior group kidnapping men in the prime of their lives who lift really heavy weights at the local gym. You tell me what they're doing with them."
Dean's answering grin was immediate and wolfish. "Well now."
"No," Sam said immediately, because he was just that much no fun.
Dean put on his best innocent face. It never worked on Sam but that wasn't the point. "Aw, come on Sammy, lighten up a little. It's been nearly a month since one of us ended up as the job and I'm pretty sure it's my turn again anyway."
"Should I just fit you with a tracer now?" Sam demanded, with a pissy little huff. "Cause really, if you're just going to get yourself kidnapped it'd make my life a lot easier."
"Sam," Dean said reprovingly. "I'm shocked that you think I'm more interested in a supernatural hookup than the job. I'm taking this one for the team."
"No, you're not. We have a plan remember?"
"So this can be Plan B." Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll play the criminally hot bait and you can break out your library-fu and figure out how to send these chicks back to Scythia or wherever the fuck else before things get out of hand. Nothing easier."
Sam gave him a level stare. "Have you noticed just how often your fatalism gets us into trouble?"
"Nope," Dean answered, blithely confident. "Though really, death by booty call'd be a pretty awesome way to go, don't you think?"
"You're right," Sam said mildly. "I can't believe we're related either."
--
Two days, a sluggishly bleeding head wound and an impressive number of orgasms on Dean's part later, Plan B had become 'the only damn plan we've got left' and Dean was chained naked against the wall of some dingy two bedroom, getting more pussy than he usually managed in at least a fortnight. Not that he was complaining.
Much.
Dean hissed as the body astride his lap lifted off him, his own breath slamming against the back of his teeth as he fought to come down in the wake of his orgasm. The Amazon didn't spare him more than a glance before stepping away, leaving him splayed sticky and useless across the floor. Dean twitched faintly, resisting the urge to throw a flirtatious comment after her. Sam'd never let him live it down if he managed to get himself gagged by mouthing off to a bunch of women who didn't even understand English. Dean was on his best behaviour.
Several long minutes passed while Dean wrestled his pulse back under control and he heaved a quiet sigh of relief when none of the Amazons clustered in the room stepped forward to get him back in action again. Not that it really would have taken that much - cause a) Dean was awesome like that and b) some of these chicks had hands on 'em that would have put a pro fluffer to shame - and yeah, Dean Winchester didn't turn down sex with pretty girls for many reasons that didn't involve demonic possession, but even a stud like him wasn't ready to go all the time. And after the number of girls he'd been fucked into in the past Christ only knew how long, Dean figured he was about due for a breather.
He had friction burns on his dick, for Christ's sake.
What the hell was taking Sammy so long? Dean shifted minimally, trying to get some more circulation in his arms where they hung like so much dead weight above his head. The chains clinked faintly and Dean made an absent face at the chafing along his wrists. Long sleeves for him for the next little while - good thing the summer heat was mostly done with.
His lock pick was still firmly wedged into the folds of his curled palm, ready to get put to good use. He'd almost done it earlier, if only to give himself something to do that wasn't having sex with crazy ladies, but had figured that it would have been kind of hard to make out like he was still chained up while getting ridden like a rodeo horse once an hour.
Jesus, this was an uncomfortable way to sit. Dean sincerely hoped that Sam showed the fuck up before his fingers went any more numb and he had to count on his dork of a brother to set him loose. The jackass.
The guy chained up next to Dean groaned as he lurched back into consciousness, his agonized flailing drawing the attention of half the women in the room. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Clearly these Amazons weren't too interested in screening their perspective sperm donors for activity in the brain department - when Dean was the smartest guy in the room there was something drastically wrong with the world.
One of the Amazons veered over. Mr. Rocks For Brains jerked violently, a babble of sound spilling incoherently around the gag stuffed in his constantly running mouth, and Dean rolled his eyes again at the horrified denial that scrawled across the guy's face when the Amazon's hand closed firmly around his dick. Considering the sorts of messed up shit these ladies could've been doing to them, the guy should've been happy to be getting off with a little slap and tickle. Some people just couldn't see the big picture.
Dean let his eyes fall shut. He dozed lightly while the pair next to him went at it which, yeah, wasn't really the best idea with a head wound but he'd had a long fucking day. The room was an aimless swirl of creaking chains, slapping skin and the meaningless babble of a good dozen or more voices speaking in something that sure as hell wasn't any form of Greek Dean'd ever heard before. Fuck Syria anyway.
A low groan eventually signaled the end of the extracurriculars beside him and Dean shoved the quiet haze out of his head far enough to hope that that didn't mean it was his turn again. Fuck, this didn't mean he was getting old, did it?
A sudden shift in the chatter going on around him brought him back to full, immediate awareness and Dean blinked his eyes open in a hurry. The Amazons all looked somewhere between pissed off and really pissed off which Dean decided to take as a good sign. He shifted again, straightening as best as he could with his ankles chained to the floor, waiting for what would come next.
'Next' turned out to be a body flying through the window, sending glass exploding across the dingy carpet and the Amazons into an absolute frenzy. Sam was such a showoff sometimes.
Dean had his lock pick out and jammed into the keyhole before the glass had finished falling, his arms held rigidly still to keep the chains from jangling. Thankfully the Amazons were a little too busy to pay him much attention; knives and bows jumped into hands en masse as several Amazons ranged forward to scan the darkness beyond the gaping hole in the wall. The sharp retort of a gun exploded through the air - no surprise there - and another Amazon tumbled to the floor, two more following in rapid succession before the rest got the hint not to stand so close to the damn window. More gunshots rang out, startlingly loud, and Dean nearly dislocated something when he realized just how close they were. How close Sam was. Dean was going to kill him.
The door chose that moment to burst violently open and Dean started swearing up a storm in the back of his head when he saw Sam's stupid floppy hair appear above the heads of a room full of seriously pissed off Amazons. With weapons. Dean was going to kill him at least twice.
Sam threw himself immediately into the fight, a splash of sober brown amidst the colourful whirl of the Amazons, and Dean gave up sending his brother death vibes in favour of hurrying the hell up with the shackles. He could kill Sam after he rescued his stupid ass.
Thankfully, the Amazons' bows were pretty much useless in the narrow confines of the house so Sam didn’t end up a pincushion within three steps of the door. And while Dean was glad to see that Sam had had the sense to bring a gun to a knife fight, it didn't take a genius to figure out that Sam was really painfully outnumbered. Dean sincerely hoped there was more to Sam's plan than this because, so far, he wasn't terribly impressed.
Dean probed deeper into the lock, grunting with satisfaction when the last pin finally caught. The shackles sprang open with a heavy clunk and Dean hesitated only a moment before going for the ones around his ankles as well - it wasn't like subtlety was going to win him any brownie points in this room. The going was a hell of a lot easier without his hands trapped above his head and Dean had the first one hacked open in moments, tugging hurriedly to get his ankle out of the cuff.
"Dean!" Sam hollered and Dean rolled instinctively, a knife whistling past his ear only seconds too late to take his head with it.
"Son of a bitch," he swore, nearly falling flat on his face as the chains tangled and snarled around his legs. An Amazon was up close and personal before he could manage much more than an instinctive yank on the damn things and his bound leg wrenched uncomfortably when he twisted away, snatching at her wrist as he went.
She snarled in his face, teeth bared and eyes ablaze, and Dean rolled with her when she lunged, bringing a knee up into her gut with all the force he could manage. Her breath whooshed out in a rush and Dean firmed his grip on her wrist as she staggered, bracing himself for how much this was going to suck.
His other hand wrapped firmly round her hip and Dean had to grin as her dark eyes widened from inches away, realization coming far too late. He hauled back hard, double-handed grip turning into a lift that slammed into the wall behind him with a sharp, sickening crack. Dean felt the shudder of things breaking where her back collided with the still-dangling chains and he twisted sharply to avoid getting crushed when she crumpled bonelessly to the floor.
He was back to work on the second lock the moment he decided she wasn't getting up again any time soon, his internal stream of curse words no longer quite so internal. Sam was still doing a bang-up job as the world's most badly planned distraction ever and Dean counted it as a success when he managed to get the second cuff open with anyone trying to eviscerate him in the meantime. He wasted no time in untangling himself, adrenaline and a healthy dose of pissed off concern driving him to his feet despite the throb in his leg, the tired ache of his variously abused muscles.
Fighting in the buff, Dean quickly discovered, sucked hardcore. His junk swung free with every shift and lunge and Dean found himself hard pressed to resist the instinctive urge to shield himself from the threat of emasculation from any number of sources. Amazons fought fucking dirty.
This job was getting less fun by the second.
Sam sucked in a sudden, sharp inhalation and the sound punched through Dean's chest like a shotgun round. His head jerked at once, scanning the knife-flinging mosh pit in front of him and trying to find out who he needed to maim for making his little brother sound like that.
Which of course was the exact moment that the leader chick of the Amazons - a tall, frightening woman who Dean was kind of glad he hadn't had a turn with earlier - closed in on him like a fucking bloodhound.
A line of fire chased the lick of a knife around Dean's ribs as he pivoted, not-quite fast enough to avoid her lunge. The Amazon slashed in close, fast and deadly as she pressed her advantage. Dean gave ground grudgingly, hyper aware of the wall she was crowding him towards and the insensate men sprawled out against it. One wrong step and he'd be on his ass faster than he could blink. And there was no way that would end well.
"Sam," he called warningly, trying not to trip over any slack limbs. "Could use a Plan C right about now!"
"The girdle!" Sam's voice hollered from somewhere to his right and Dean would have taken him to task for being so damn vague when they had better things to do if he'd had the attention to spare from not getting himself skewered.
Luckily Sam wasn't done talking. "The -fuck! - the belt she's wearing! Dean, we need it to, ngh!"
The words broke off in a pained grunt but Dean figured he'd got the gist of it. Switching tactics between one heartbeat and the next, he lunged under the next swing and came up tackling, spilling them both to floor with a thud that made his teeth rattle.
She flailed under him like a wildcat, bucking and hissing and lashing out with knife and arms and legs. Which was maybe not all that different from other memories Dean had of sitting naked on top of pretty women with kinky sides but he tried not to let the similarity distract him from the matter at hand.
He wrestled the knife out of her grip and hurled it blindly across the room, only mildly disappointed when it didn't hit anyone. Keeping his legs clamped tightly around bucking hips, he forced one forearm against her windpipe and dug under her back with his other hand. Her nails scored burning gashes down his back and arms and Dean bared his teeth at her in a fierce parody of a grin.
"Well it's been great, sweetheart," he managed, tugging at the laces of the belt until they snapped. "But I really don't do the whole 'completely at your mercy' thing. Sorry."
And then he ripped the belt free, the edge of her infuriated screech sliding under his skin like a physical wound.
The sound of a room full of Amazons collapsing to the floor like someone had cut their strings wasn't one that Dean was going to forget in a hurry. Weapons clattered noisily to the ground all around him and Dean gaped into the sudden silence, only vaguely registering the slack sag of the unconscious body wedged between his thighs.
Sam slumped wearily against the far wall, his chest heaving. "Thank god for that." He swiped at his bangs, sweat and blood stirring through the sodden mass. Dean didn't like the look of the blood soaking through his torn sleeve.
Dean let out an explosive breath. "What. The fuck. Sammy."
"I'll- tell you later," Sam promised, between great gulping gasps of air. "Just - don’t," an absent gesture at the ugly-ass belt draped across Dean's knees, "let go of that 'till we can destroy it."
Dean put two and two together and make a face. "Fucking cursed objects," he growled. His body tightened painfully as he lurched to his feet, reminding him abruptly that he'd just spent a good ten hours and more sitting chained to the wall being treated like the world's sexiest blow up doll. Fuck, his back hurt. And he was still naked.
He put on a plaintive face. "Please tell me you brought pants, Sammy."
Sam had a real talent for nodding in a way that actually meant 'no'. "Shower first," he declared firmly. "There's no way I'm sitting in the car with you looking like you've been filming amateur porn."
"Nothing amateur about it." Dean shook the belt in Sam's direction. "Aren't you scared I'm gonna wash the gold lamé off this fugly thing?"
He got a shrug in response. "You go right ahead. It's yours now, after all. I'm gonna go get the car," Sam added, before Dean could start protesting that. "You get cleaned up and then we'll go destroy that thing and call the cops to come get these guys out of here."
"After we get some food," Dean corrected, mostly over one shoulder as he started in what he figured ought to be the general direction of the staircase. "I haven't eaten since yesterday."
"Dean." And ah, there went Sam's exaggerated patience voice. "This is kind of important."
"Yeah and I'm starving. The sooner you stop bitching the sooner we feed me and get things sorted out. Why haven't you left yet?"
Sam rolled his eyes. Not that Dean could see him with his back turned, but he knew his brother.
"I'm starting to be sorry I busted my ass trying to save yours." The wall creaked as Sam levered himself away from it. "The car's not far," he promised. "You'd better smell less like a brothel by the time I get back or I'm leaving you here."
"The modern term is 'whore house' Sammy," Dean told him breezily. "Get your head out of the 1800s."
"Dean," Sam said then, and Dean turned to catch the knife Sam tossed at him. "I'll be back in ten."
Dean threw off an impolite gesture with the knife handle. "You'd better, bitch."
"Jerk. Don't drown yourself." The heavy thunk of Sam's boots vanished out the front door and Dean was left in a room full of chained up body builders and sort of dead Amazons, trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to get cleaned up while juggling both knife and stupid belt. He figured he probably also ought to do something about the various holes he was leaking out of before he passed out from blood loss. And he still had to patch Sammy up before they found themselves somewhere that served hamburgers. Just another quiet night with the Winchester brothers.
"Totally worth it," Dean decided, and headed upstairs to find a fucking shower.
Author: cleflink
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Prompt: Dean/OCs, Amazons and strong women - ladies, it's been great, but I don't do the whole 'completely at your mercy' thing.
Warnings: very glossed het sex and Dean's foul mouth. No spoilers
Word Count: 3200
A/N: This is me taking prompts way too literally
Summary: Case fic. Dean totally isn't complaining about being bait. Really.
Sometimes the things they went up against were just weird.
"Amazons?" Dean repeated, flicking at Sam's ear until he moved his big head out of the way of the computer screen. "You mean like those warrior chicks who cut off their right tits so they could shoot a bow?"
"Pretty much," Sam agreed, digging a half-hearted elbow into Dean's side in response. "And before you ask, yes I'm sure they're not actually the women from American Gladiators."
"Damn." Dean shrugged philosophically. "Oh well, I'm sure hot titless Greek chicks-"
"Probably Scythian actually."
"-are just as good," he finished, with a roll of his eyes. "Why do you have to be such a dork?"
"Guess that's how my brother raised me," Sam shot back sweetly and Dean cuffed him upside the head.
"I can't believe we're related. So what are these hotties doing here anyway? Last time I checked, Amazons weren't spirits or anything."
Sam shrugged out a sigh. "Another Tibetan spirit sigil?" he tried, not even trying to make it sound like he wasn't guessing. "Cursed object? Summoning ritual? Dean, even the Romans weren't that clear on what the Amazons were - I won't know what we're up against until we get some more information."
"Great." Dean made a face at the ceiling. "Tell me you can at least explain what the hell they're doing with all those dudes they've been grabbing."
Sam gave him the look that meant Sam'd met swamp monsters quicker on the uptake than Dean was. "Gee Dean, a girls-only warrior group kidnapping men in the prime of their lives who lift really heavy weights at the local gym. You tell me what they're doing with them."
Dean's answering grin was immediate and wolfish. "Well now."
"No," Sam said immediately, because he was just that much no fun.
Dean put on his best innocent face. It never worked on Sam but that wasn't the point. "Aw, come on Sammy, lighten up a little. It's been nearly a month since one of us ended up as the job and I'm pretty sure it's my turn again anyway."
"Should I just fit you with a tracer now?" Sam demanded, with a pissy little huff. "Cause really, if you're just going to get yourself kidnapped it'd make my life a lot easier."
"Sam," Dean said reprovingly. "I'm shocked that you think I'm more interested in a supernatural hookup than the job. I'm taking this one for the team."
"No, you're not. We have a plan remember?"
"So this can be Plan B." Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll play the criminally hot bait and you can break out your library-fu and figure out how to send these chicks back to Scythia or wherever the fuck else before things get out of hand. Nothing easier."
Sam gave him a level stare. "Have you noticed just how often your fatalism gets us into trouble?"
"Nope," Dean answered, blithely confident. "Though really, death by booty call'd be a pretty awesome way to go, don't you think?"
"You're right," Sam said mildly. "I can't believe we're related either."
--
Two days, a sluggishly bleeding head wound and an impressive number of orgasms on Dean's part later, Plan B had become 'the only damn plan we've got left' and Dean was chained naked against the wall of some dingy two bedroom, getting more pussy than he usually managed in at least a fortnight. Not that he was complaining.
Much.
Dean hissed as the body astride his lap lifted off him, his own breath slamming against the back of his teeth as he fought to come down in the wake of his orgasm. The Amazon didn't spare him more than a glance before stepping away, leaving him splayed sticky and useless across the floor. Dean twitched faintly, resisting the urge to throw a flirtatious comment after her. Sam'd never let him live it down if he managed to get himself gagged by mouthing off to a bunch of women who didn't even understand English. Dean was on his best behaviour.
Several long minutes passed while Dean wrestled his pulse back under control and he heaved a quiet sigh of relief when none of the Amazons clustered in the room stepped forward to get him back in action again. Not that it really would have taken that much - cause a) Dean was awesome like that and b) some of these chicks had hands on 'em that would have put a pro fluffer to shame - and yeah, Dean Winchester didn't turn down sex with pretty girls for many reasons that didn't involve demonic possession, but even a stud like him wasn't ready to go all the time. And after the number of girls he'd been fucked into in the past Christ only knew how long, Dean figured he was about due for a breather.
He had friction burns on his dick, for Christ's sake.
What the hell was taking Sammy so long? Dean shifted minimally, trying to get some more circulation in his arms where they hung like so much dead weight above his head. The chains clinked faintly and Dean made an absent face at the chafing along his wrists. Long sleeves for him for the next little while - good thing the summer heat was mostly done with.
His lock pick was still firmly wedged into the folds of his curled palm, ready to get put to good use. He'd almost done it earlier, if only to give himself something to do that wasn't having sex with crazy ladies, but had figured that it would have been kind of hard to make out like he was still chained up while getting ridden like a rodeo horse once an hour.
Jesus, this was an uncomfortable way to sit. Dean sincerely hoped that Sam showed the fuck up before his fingers went any more numb and he had to count on his dork of a brother to set him loose. The jackass.
The guy chained up next to Dean groaned as he lurched back into consciousness, his agonized flailing drawing the attention of half the women in the room. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Clearly these Amazons weren't too interested in screening their perspective sperm donors for activity in the brain department - when Dean was the smartest guy in the room there was something drastically wrong with the world.
One of the Amazons veered over. Mr. Rocks For Brains jerked violently, a babble of sound spilling incoherently around the gag stuffed in his constantly running mouth, and Dean rolled his eyes again at the horrified denial that scrawled across the guy's face when the Amazon's hand closed firmly around his dick. Considering the sorts of messed up shit these ladies could've been doing to them, the guy should've been happy to be getting off with a little slap and tickle. Some people just couldn't see the big picture.
Dean let his eyes fall shut. He dozed lightly while the pair next to him went at it which, yeah, wasn't really the best idea with a head wound but he'd had a long fucking day. The room was an aimless swirl of creaking chains, slapping skin and the meaningless babble of a good dozen or more voices speaking in something that sure as hell wasn't any form of Greek Dean'd ever heard before. Fuck Syria anyway.
A low groan eventually signaled the end of the extracurriculars beside him and Dean shoved the quiet haze out of his head far enough to hope that that didn't mean it was his turn again. Fuck, this didn't mean he was getting old, did it?
A sudden shift in the chatter going on around him brought him back to full, immediate awareness and Dean blinked his eyes open in a hurry. The Amazons all looked somewhere between pissed off and really pissed off which Dean decided to take as a good sign. He shifted again, straightening as best as he could with his ankles chained to the floor, waiting for what would come next.
'Next' turned out to be a body flying through the window, sending glass exploding across the dingy carpet and the Amazons into an absolute frenzy. Sam was such a showoff sometimes.
Dean had his lock pick out and jammed into the keyhole before the glass had finished falling, his arms held rigidly still to keep the chains from jangling. Thankfully the Amazons were a little too busy to pay him much attention; knives and bows jumped into hands en masse as several Amazons ranged forward to scan the darkness beyond the gaping hole in the wall. The sharp retort of a gun exploded through the air - no surprise there - and another Amazon tumbled to the floor, two more following in rapid succession before the rest got the hint not to stand so close to the damn window. More gunshots rang out, startlingly loud, and Dean nearly dislocated something when he realized just how close they were. How close Sam was. Dean was going to kill him.
The door chose that moment to burst violently open and Dean started swearing up a storm in the back of his head when he saw Sam's stupid floppy hair appear above the heads of a room full of seriously pissed off Amazons. With weapons. Dean was going to kill him at least twice.
Sam threw himself immediately into the fight, a splash of sober brown amidst the colourful whirl of the Amazons, and Dean gave up sending his brother death vibes in favour of hurrying the hell up with the shackles. He could kill Sam after he rescued his stupid ass.
Thankfully, the Amazons' bows were pretty much useless in the narrow confines of the house so Sam didn’t end up a pincushion within three steps of the door. And while Dean was glad to see that Sam had had the sense to bring a gun to a knife fight, it didn't take a genius to figure out that Sam was really painfully outnumbered. Dean sincerely hoped there was more to Sam's plan than this because, so far, he wasn't terribly impressed.
Dean probed deeper into the lock, grunting with satisfaction when the last pin finally caught. The shackles sprang open with a heavy clunk and Dean hesitated only a moment before going for the ones around his ankles as well - it wasn't like subtlety was going to win him any brownie points in this room. The going was a hell of a lot easier without his hands trapped above his head and Dean had the first one hacked open in moments, tugging hurriedly to get his ankle out of the cuff.
"Dean!" Sam hollered and Dean rolled instinctively, a knife whistling past his ear only seconds too late to take his head with it.
"Son of a bitch," he swore, nearly falling flat on his face as the chains tangled and snarled around his legs. An Amazon was up close and personal before he could manage much more than an instinctive yank on the damn things and his bound leg wrenched uncomfortably when he twisted away, snatching at her wrist as he went.
She snarled in his face, teeth bared and eyes ablaze, and Dean rolled with her when she lunged, bringing a knee up into her gut with all the force he could manage. Her breath whooshed out in a rush and Dean firmed his grip on her wrist as she staggered, bracing himself for how much this was going to suck.
His other hand wrapped firmly round her hip and Dean had to grin as her dark eyes widened from inches away, realization coming far too late. He hauled back hard, double-handed grip turning into a lift that slammed into the wall behind him with a sharp, sickening crack. Dean felt the shudder of things breaking where her back collided with the still-dangling chains and he twisted sharply to avoid getting crushed when she crumpled bonelessly to the floor.
He was back to work on the second lock the moment he decided she wasn't getting up again any time soon, his internal stream of curse words no longer quite so internal. Sam was still doing a bang-up job as the world's most badly planned distraction ever and Dean counted it as a success when he managed to get the second cuff open with anyone trying to eviscerate him in the meantime. He wasted no time in untangling himself, adrenaline and a healthy dose of pissed off concern driving him to his feet despite the throb in his leg, the tired ache of his variously abused muscles.
Fighting in the buff, Dean quickly discovered, sucked hardcore. His junk swung free with every shift and lunge and Dean found himself hard pressed to resist the instinctive urge to shield himself from the threat of emasculation from any number of sources. Amazons fought fucking dirty.
This job was getting less fun by the second.
Sam sucked in a sudden, sharp inhalation and the sound punched through Dean's chest like a shotgun round. His head jerked at once, scanning the knife-flinging mosh pit in front of him and trying to find out who he needed to maim for making his little brother sound like that.
Which of course was the exact moment that the leader chick of the Amazons - a tall, frightening woman who Dean was kind of glad he hadn't had a turn with earlier - closed in on him like a fucking bloodhound.
A line of fire chased the lick of a knife around Dean's ribs as he pivoted, not-quite fast enough to avoid her lunge. The Amazon slashed in close, fast and deadly as she pressed her advantage. Dean gave ground grudgingly, hyper aware of the wall she was crowding him towards and the insensate men sprawled out against it. One wrong step and he'd be on his ass faster than he could blink. And there was no way that would end well.
"Sam," he called warningly, trying not to trip over any slack limbs. "Could use a Plan C right about now!"
"The girdle!" Sam's voice hollered from somewhere to his right and Dean would have taken him to task for being so damn vague when they had better things to do if he'd had the attention to spare from not getting himself skewered.
Luckily Sam wasn't done talking. "The -fuck! - the belt she's wearing! Dean, we need it to, ngh!"
The words broke off in a pained grunt but Dean figured he'd got the gist of it. Switching tactics between one heartbeat and the next, he lunged under the next swing and came up tackling, spilling them both to floor with a thud that made his teeth rattle.
She flailed under him like a wildcat, bucking and hissing and lashing out with knife and arms and legs. Which was maybe not all that different from other memories Dean had of sitting naked on top of pretty women with kinky sides but he tried not to let the similarity distract him from the matter at hand.
He wrestled the knife out of her grip and hurled it blindly across the room, only mildly disappointed when it didn't hit anyone. Keeping his legs clamped tightly around bucking hips, he forced one forearm against her windpipe and dug under her back with his other hand. Her nails scored burning gashes down his back and arms and Dean bared his teeth at her in a fierce parody of a grin.
"Well it's been great, sweetheart," he managed, tugging at the laces of the belt until they snapped. "But I really don't do the whole 'completely at your mercy' thing. Sorry."
And then he ripped the belt free, the edge of her infuriated screech sliding under his skin like a physical wound.
The sound of a room full of Amazons collapsing to the floor like someone had cut their strings wasn't one that Dean was going to forget in a hurry. Weapons clattered noisily to the ground all around him and Dean gaped into the sudden silence, only vaguely registering the slack sag of the unconscious body wedged between his thighs.
Sam slumped wearily against the far wall, his chest heaving. "Thank god for that." He swiped at his bangs, sweat and blood stirring through the sodden mass. Dean didn't like the look of the blood soaking through his torn sleeve.
Dean let out an explosive breath. "What. The fuck. Sammy."
"I'll- tell you later," Sam promised, between great gulping gasps of air. "Just - don’t," an absent gesture at the ugly-ass belt draped across Dean's knees, "let go of that 'till we can destroy it."
Dean put two and two together and make a face. "Fucking cursed objects," he growled. His body tightened painfully as he lurched to his feet, reminding him abruptly that he'd just spent a good ten hours and more sitting chained to the wall being treated like the world's sexiest blow up doll. Fuck, his back hurt. And he was still naked.
He put on a plaintive face. "Please tell me you brought pants, Sammy."
Sam had a real talent for nodding in a way that actually meant 'no'. "Shower first," he declared firmly. "There's no way I'm sitting in the car with you looking like you've been filming amateur porn."
"Nothing amateur about it." Dean shook the belt in Sam's direction. "Aren't you scared I'm gonna wash the gold lamé off this fugly thing?"
He got a shrug in response. "You go right ahead. It's yours now, after all. I'm gonna go get the car," Sam added, before Dean could start protesting that. "You get cleaned up and then we'll go destroy that thing and call the cops to come get these guys out of here."
"After we get some food," Dean corrected, mostly over one shoulder as he started in what he figured ought to be the general direction of the staircase. "I haven't eaten since yesterday."
"Dean." And ah, there went Sam's exaggerated patience voice. "This is kind of important."
"Yeah and I'm starving. The sooner you stop bitching the sooner we feed me and get things sorted out. Why haven't you left yet?"
Sam rolled his eyes. Not that Dean could see him with his back turned, but he knew his brother.
"I'm starting to be sorry I busted my ass trying to save yours." The wall creaked as Sam levered himself away from it. "The car's not far," he promised. "You'd better smell less like a brothel by the time I get back or I'm leaving you here."
"The modern term is 'whore house' Sammy," Dean told him breezily. "Get your head out of the 1800s."
"Dean," Sam said then, and Dean turned to catch the knife Sam tossed at him. "I'll be back in ten."
Dean threw off an impolite gesture with the knife handle. "You'd better, bitch."
"Jerk. Don't drown yourself." The heavy thunk of Sam's boots vanished out the front door and Dean was left in a room full of chained up body builders and sort of dead Amazons, trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to get cleaned up while juggling both knife and stupid belt. He figured he probably also ought to do something about the various holes he was leaking out of before he passed out from blood loss. And he still had to patch Sammy up before they found themselves somewhere that served hamburgers. Just another quiet night with the Winchester brothers.
"Totally worth it," Dean decided, and headed upstairs to find a fucking shower.