Like an Animal
Title: Like An Animal
Pairing: robo!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1350
Warnings: Non-con|Rape
Summary: Ummmm....*shrugs* Ok so this is robo!Sam/Dean. Sam wants what he can't have and he's gonna have it whether Dean likes it or not.
Sam smiles rather wickedly as he watches Sammy’s big brother knock back another shot. He isn’t anywhere near plastered. Closer to tipsy than flat out drunk. But there is something different about him tonight. Lighter. Whatever the reason, Sam isn’t really too interested in pin pointing it. He’s not interested in emotion. But he can acknowledge that having Dean in this state is definitely working in his favour.
Dean doesn’t even flinch when the needle pierces through his jeans, pricking his thigh. His nose only crinkles afterwards as he scratches at the phantom itch. It was just a little something to keep him lax.
Sam leans in, getting close, his breath warm against Dean’s ear, smirking when Dean doesn’t recoil like he normally would at such personal space violations.
“We should leave.”
Dean surprises him again when he smiles, his eyes falling closed, and he claps a hand down on Sam’s shoulder, pushing himself up with some considerable effort, “Time to hit the hay,” and laughs a little as he sways.
Sam leads him out to the car, gets him settled in the passenger seat. Dean was pliant. Exactly how he wanted him. For months now it had been all he could think about. And the more he’d thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. There was no need in looking outside for gratification. Everything he needed was right next to him. And tonight he’d finally get to have it.
By the time they get back to the motel, the muscle relaxant has really started to do its thing, Sam having to take most of Dean’s weight to get him inside. He sits him down on the edge of the bed closest to the door and he smirks as Dean just flops down onto his back. Sam gets down on his knees between Dean’s legs and immediately starts mouthing over Dean’s denim clad crotch. It took a little while for Dean to notice, it isn’t until he actually hears his zipper that he props his self up to look down, “Sam,” and he kind of whines a little, “What’re you doing?”
Dean’s breath hitches and he almost chokes on it, as Sam’s mouth closes around the head of his cock through his boxer briefs. Dean collapses back down to the bed, which is when Sam lets his hand slip inside gripping his brother’s rapidly hardening flesh. He figures he’ll get a lot more fun if he keeps Dean off guard. Doesn’t stop him from talking though. Not yet.
“Sam. Stop.”
However laboured.
“Why?” he asks in a tone that may have been considered innocent on anyone else, but on him it was just really rather creepy. Dean recoils at it, back arching ever so slightly off the bed, his nose scrunched, but Sam takes that moment to tug Dean’s jeans along with his boxers down past his knees, and the direct mouth to skin contact makes him squirm for completely different reasons.
“You know why.”
“No I think you’re gonna have to spell it out for me,” he keeps his strokes at a steady pace, and lets the tip of his tongue draw up Dean’s sac, before he continues, “And don’t give me that ‘brother’ bullshit, because I think we’ve both established here that I am not your brother,” and he swallows his cock in one go as if to prove his point. Pulling back up nice and slow, cheeks hollowed out, he chuckles a little as Dean curses under his breath.
“Maybe not,” and Dean sucks in as much air as he can, “but that’s still his body you’re steering,” Dean’s hands find Sam’s shoulders and he pushes, really pushes, but Sam doesn’t budge, “What did you do to me?”
“This isn’t about what I’ve done. It’s about what I’m going to do, and you’re gonna like it.”
Dean doesn’t get time to counter, his thighs are being pulled up and pushed wide, and that devil tongue is at that tight little circle of muscles, “Fuck no,” his hips buck up and one of Sam’s arms clamps down against Dean’s like a deadweight across his lower abdomen, holding him in place, “Sammy don’t do this.”
Sam can tell Dean didn’t really mean to let the endearment slip. He knows this because Dean knows that it has no affect on him. Though he supposes desperate times. Sam lets his tongue swirl around the hole a few times before letting the tip poke at the centre. He very briefly entertains the question of which bothers Dean more; the penetration, or the fact that it would be him doing the penetrating. But he really doesn’t care. And Dean’s squirming rather nicely.
“Please stop.”
And Sam does for a second. He waits. Watching Dean prop himself back up to stare down at the shell of his brother. Sam’s not really sure how to read the look in his eyes. But he smirks all the same, raising two fingers to his lips, he pushes them in nice and slow, pushing his tongue between them, and he let them close as he pulled them back out and then he sucks them back in getting them good and wet.
Dean gulps. He shakes his head, 'no' the only thing that manages to trip past his lips, one for each circle of Sam’s index finger round the puckered flesh, “Don’t. Sam. You c-can’t do this.”
“You can’t stop me,” he says matter-of-factly, and he starts working the first finger in, “And I don’t think you really want me too.”
Dean takes a sharp breath, and it comes out shaky, “You’re wrong.”
Sam shrugs almost imperceptibly, “Subjective.”
Sam pulls his finger back out and squirts some lube onto his already laved fingers. He pushes two in this time. He finds it quite a drag that this part requires going slow. But he takes pleasure in every plea, every whimper, every twitch from his brother. He really hopes he’ll scream in the main event. But he won’t hold his breath. Dean was a martyr after all.
All unnecessary clothing out of the way, Sam unzips his pants and pulls out his cock, and Dean’s eyes widen almost comically. Sam pridefully strokes himself a couple of times before rolling on the condom. One hand firm just above Dean’s pelvic bone, he lines himself up with Dean’s hole, feeling the flutter of flesh beneath his palm, “Sam. Please,” Dean practically chokes out, but defeat was already in his voice.
Without any further hesitation Sam slams home and Dean’s head shoots back, the muscles in his throat pulsing, his teeth tear through the flesh of his bottom lip as he tries to curb the growl that his body lets loose. Blood trickles into his mouth and colours his lip. Sam laps it right up, worrying the lip between his own teeth to get as much of the tangy substance as he can. Dean whimpers from the sting of it.
Sam’s hips piston back and forth, smoother than a pneumatic drill, but just as powerful. Dean’s body was in a constant state of flux, like all his nerves were firing at once, making him feel slightly sick, but Sam is still forcing his hips to match Sam’s thrust for thrust. Dean’s gaze fixed in the middle distance.
As they get closer neither brother is thinking of the other, Sam driven solely by the tight heat, Dean lost to oblivion. And then they came. Come sputtering up over Dean’s stomach, and filling the condom in his ass, Sam collapses on top of him. Dean's still shaking from head to toe. Sam doesn’t go in much for sentimentality, he rolls off his brother the second he gets his breath back.
And the second he's gone Dean slides down with a thud onto his hands and knees.
He doesn't even bother to get up.
Just heads straight to the bathroom as quick as he can. His head was swimming. Just getting to the toilet in time to hurl.
He shakes his head when he stops, tears stinging at his eyes.
He doesn't even want to breathe.
Pairing: robo!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1350
Warnings: Non-con|Rape
Summary: Ummmm....*shrugs* Ok so this is robo!Sam/Dean. Sam wants what he can't have and he's gonna have it whether Dean likes it or not.
Sam smiles rather wickedly as he watches Sammy’s big brother knock back another shot. He isn’t anywhere near plastered. Closer to tipsy than flat out drunk. But there is something different about him tonight. Lighter. Whatever the reason, Sam isn’t really too interested in pin pointing it. He’s not interested in emotion. But he can acknowledge that having Dean in this state is definitely working in his favour.
Dean doesn’t even flinch when the needle pierces through his jeans, pricking his thigh. His nose only crinkles afterwards as he scratches at the phantom itch. It was just a little something to keep him lax.
Sam leans in, getting close, his breath warm against Dean’s ear, smirking when Dean doesn’t recoil like he normally would at such personal space violations.
“We should leave.”
Dean surprises him again when he smiles, his eyes falling closed, and he claps a hand down on Sam’s shoulder, pushing himself up with some considerable effort, “Time to hit the hay,” and laughs a little as he sways.
Sam leads him out to the car, gets him settled in the passenger seat. Dean was pliant. Exactly how he wanted him. For months now it had been all he could think about. And the more he’d thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. There was no need in looking outside for gratification. Everything he needed was right next to him. And tonight he’d finally get to have it.
By the time they get back to the motel, the muscle relaxant has really started to do its thing, Sam having to take most of Dean’s weight to get him inside. He sits him down on the edge of the bed closest to the door and he smirks as Dean just flops down onto his back. Sam gets down on his knees between Dean’s legs and immediately starts mouthing over Dean’s denim clad crotch. It took a little while for Dean to notice, it isn’t until he actually hears his zipper that he props his self up to look down, “Sam,” and he kind of whines a little, “What’re you doing?”
Dean’s breath hitches and he almost chokes on it, as Sam’s mouth closes around the head of his cock through his boxer briefs. Dean collapses back down to the bed, which is when Sam lets his hand slip inside gripping his brother’s rapidly hardening flesh. He figures he’ll get a lot more fun if he keeps Dean off guard. Doesn’t stop him from talking though. Not yet.
“Sam. Stop.”
However laboured.
“Why?” he asks in a tone that may have been considered innocent on anyone else, but on him it was just really rather creepy. Dean recoils at it, back arching ever so slightly off the bed, his nose scrunched, but Sam takes that moment to tug Dean’s jeans along with his boxers down past his knees, and the direct mouth to skin contact makes him squirm for completely different reasons.
“You know why.”
“No I think you’re gonna have to spell it out for me,” he keeps his strokes at a steady pace, and lets the tip of his tongue draw up Dean’s sac, before he continues, “And don’t give me that ‘brother’ bullshit, because I think we’ve both established here that I am not your brother,” and he swallows his cock in one go as if to prove his point. Pulling back up nice and slow, cheeks hollowed out, he chuckles a little as Dean curses under his breath.
“Maybe not,” and Dean sucks in as much air as he can, “but that’s still his body you’re steering,” Dean’s hands find Sam’s shoulders and he pushes, really pushes, but Sam doesn’t budge, “What did you do to me?”
“This isn’t about what I’ve done. It’s about what I’m going to do, and you’re gonna like it.”
Dean doesn’t get time to counter, his thighs are being pulled up and pushed wide, and that devil tongue is at that tight little circle of muscles, “Fuck no,” his hips buck up and one of Sam’s arms clamps down against Dean’s like a deadweight across his lower abdomen, holding him in place, “Sammy don’t do this.”
Sam can tell Dean didn’t really mean to let the endearment slip. He knows this because Dean knows that it has no affect on him. Though he supposes desperate times. Sam lets his tongue swirl around the hole a few times before letting the tip poke at the centre. He very briefly entertains the question of which bothers Dean more; the penetration, or the fact that it would be him doing the penetrating. But he really doesn’t care. And Dean’s squirming rather nicely.
“Please stop.”
And Sam does for a second. He waits. Watching Dean prop himself back up to stare down at the shell of his brother. Sam’s not really sure how to read the look in his eyes. But he smirks all the same, raising two fingers to his lips, he pushes them in nice and slow, pushing his tongue between them, and he let them close as he pulled them back out and then he sucks them back in getting them good and wet.
Dean gulps. He shakes his head, 'no' the only thing that manages to trip past his lips, one for each circle of Sam’s index finger round the puckered flesh, “Don’t. Sam. You c-can’t do this.”
“You can’t stop me,” he says matter-of-factly, and he starts working the first finger in, “And I don’t think you really want me too.”
Dean takes a sharp breath, and it comes out shaky, “You’re wrong.”
Sam shrugs almost imperceptibly, “Subjective.”
Sam pulls his finger back out and squirts some lube onto his already laved fingers. He pushes two in this time. He finds it quite a drag that this part requires going slow. But he takes pleasure in every plea, every whimper, every twitch from his brother. He really hopes he’ll scream in the main event. But he won’t hold his breath. Dean was a martyr after all.
All unnecessary clothing out of the way, Sam unzips his pants and pulls out his cock, and Dean’s eyes widen almost comically. Sam pridefully strokes himself a couple of times before rolling on the condom. One hand firm just above Dean’s pelvic bone, he lines himself up with Dean’s hole, feeling the flutter of flesh beneath his palm, “Sam. Please,” Dean practically chokes out, but defeat was already in his voice.
Without any further hesitation Sam slams home and Dean’s head shoots back, the muscles in his throat pulsing, his teeth tear through the flesh of his bottom lip as he tries to curb the growl that his body lets loose. Blood trickles into his mouth and colours his lip. Sam laps it right up, worrying the lip between his own teeth to get as much of the tangy substance as he can. Dean whimpers from the sting of it.
Sam’s hips piston back and forth, smoother than a pneumatic drill, but just as powerful. Dean’s body was in a constant state of flux, like all his nerves were firing at once, making him feel slightly sick, but Sam is still forcing his hips to match Sam’s thrust for thrust. Dean’s gaze fixed in the middle distance.
As they get closer neither brother is thinking of the other, Sam driven solely by the tight heat, Dean lost to oblivion. And then they came. Come sputtering up over Dean’s stomach, and filling the condom in his ass, Sam collapses on top of him. Dean's still shaking from head to toe. Sam doesn’t go in much for sentimentality, he rolls off his brother the second he gets his breath back.
And the second he's gone Dean slides down with a thud onto his hands and knees.
He doesn't even bother to get up.
Just heads straight to the bathroom as quick as he can. His head was swimming. Just getting to the toilet in time to hurl.
He shakes his head when he stops, tears stinging at his eyes.
He doesn't even want to breathe.