Mesmerize 1/2
Art Title: Mesmerize
Prompt Number: 1062
Artist: weeping_ice
Fic Title: Mesmerize
Author: tifaching
Fandom/Genre: SPN, Slash
Pairing(s): Azazel in John/Dean
Rating: NC/17
Word Count: 11,147
Warnings: underage, prostitution, non-con, dub-con, power play, mind fuck,unwilling incest, episode dialogue.
Summary: Dean and Azazel met long before the cabin.
Many thanks to my beta alexisjane for being awesome. Any and all mistakes remaining are mine.
Art Link: Here
weeping_ice was so fantastic to work with and did such amazing art! I loved the prompt as soon as I saw it, and the banner and dividers and icons that were made for this were just so good!
Azazel’s tired of playing possum but he didn’t claw his way to the top of the demonic pecking order by rushing into things. It’s been hard, pretending to have to sleep off the rest of the drugs supposedly permeating John’s system, but waiting for the right moment to make his appearance will make this triumph so much sweeter. When Dean circles through the room during one of his endless patrols of the cabin Azazel stays still, sprawled across the bed, the steady rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he’s even alive.
“Dad,” Dean says, shaking his shoulder, but Azazel doesn’t react. Calloused fingers cup his chin before sliding down to rest against the pulse that he’s keeping slow and thready. “C’mon, Dad. I need you to wake up.”
John stirs inside, rains blows against the walls confining him, but Azazel’s got him locked up tight. Not yet, John. Not ever, actually. The troubles the Winchesters have caused him over the years are going to be returned tonight with interest and John’s going to be a helpless bystander at best, an unwilling participant at worst. The bed’s cold and his plans for the near future include having one of John’s boys warm and wet between him and the lumpy mattress. It’ll be Dean, of course, for a multitude of reasons, the least of which is that his relationship with the younger Winchester can’t go that way if he wants his favorite to someday lead the armies of hell.
Dean stays for a moment, anxiety, fear and desperation bleeding off of him in an intoxicatingly heady mixture. Azazel breathes it in like sulphur and brimstone as Dean heads off to check on Sam, who’s similarly, well, in a not fake at all sort of way, passed out in a bedroom across the cabin. Adrenaline got him up and running in Jefferson City but disappeared as soon as he’d hit the Impala’s passenger seat and he’s been unconsciousness ever since. Azazel reaches out for Sam; uses the connection he’s been developing for twenty two years and reassures himself again that his boy will make a full recovery. He’ll be out for a good long while though and that plays right into Azazel’s plans.
So, John, the demon thinks with a lewd internal grin, looks like Sammy’s not going to be joining us for a while. Should we go keep Dean company? What do you think? John remains stubbornly uncommunicative and the demon goads him further. Why so quiet? There’s still no response but John’s pushing hard against Azazel’s control. The demon hums contentedly, running a hand down his meatsuit's body until it rubs in circles against its crotch. Well, what do you know? Something’s got our dick paying attention. You think it might be Dean? A growl of rage finally emerges from the recesses of John’s mind. Azazel grins and lazily rolls his hips. I think it might be Dean. As a matter of fact, I’m sure of it. Puts you in mind of Mary, doesn’t he? Come on, John- don’t try to tell me you haven’t noticed. John scrambles for traction against the solid barrier caging him but Azazel’s not worried. The walls of that particular prison are thick and solid. No one’s ever broken through and John Winchester’s certainly not going to be the first. Azazel sits John up and stretches out muscles tight from lack of use. It’s a John thing to do, a human thing, and he’s got to be careful with that. This won’t be nearly as much fun if the boys catch on too soon.
“Dean.”
The voice from behind is obviously a surprise and Dean whirls. “Dad. I…”
Didn’t hear us coming? Sloppy. “Sit down and take a load off.”
Dean shakes his head and continues to prowl the room.
“Did that sound like a request?”
“I have to keep watch, Dad.”
Daddy’s little soldier. Such a good boy, John.
“Dean, I’m here now. You are officially off duty.”
“Dad,” Dean stops suddenly, swaying where he stands. “You sure you’re up to it? You should go back to bed.”
Look at him, John. You can see it, can’t you? Exhausted. Scared. With a tiny bit of hope inside just waiting to be crushed. He’s going to be delicious.
“You’re the one who should be in bed, kiddo. All I been doing is sleeping. I’m gonna bust right out of my skin if I don’t get some action soon.”
“Dad…”
“Dean. Sit.” It’s said with such authority that Dean seems surprised his feet have moved when he drops into one of the chairs bracketing the room’s rickety table.
All in the tone of voice isn’t it, John? Works wonders for certain things. Others…I might have to be a little more creative. He’s dumb, but I don’t think he’s that dumb.
Dean grins tiredly. “Not going to order me to bed?”
Azazel’s lips twist up in response. “When the time comes, I think just suggesting it will be enough.”
The Colt’s somewhere in the cabin, Azazel can feel it. He wants to pin Dean down, peel him layer by layer until he finds it, and he will before the night is over. The demon grabs a knife from the weapons bag and hefts it, smiling slightly as it catches the light. The leather wrapped hilt rests comfortably in his hand, handling it second nature for both Azazel and John. It feels right and there’ll be nothing un-John like to give him away here. As he settles across the table from Dean, he grunts a little for realism as he sinks into the chair. He digs in the bag for a whetstone, pulls it out, and drags the knife along it, angling it so light flashes with every pass.
“Dean,” whisk,flash, ”relax.” Whisk, flash.
Dean follows the back and forth of the knife, pupils contracting with each reflection off the polished metal blade. The wooden chair creaks as he settles into it, tiny bits of tension visibly dropping away as he leans against the backrest.
Azazel gradually slows the slide of metal against stone until it’s synched with Dean’s breathing. Whisk, flash, inhale. Whisk, flash, exhale. He keeps sharpening, knife after knife, until Dean’s sleepy eyes lose focus and his breaths are deep and even.
“How you feeling, Dean?” Azazel asks. “And I want the truth.”
“ ’M fine,” Dean murmurs, rapt gaze on the motion of the knife.
Whisk, flash. “Hostes totaliter mesmerize.”Whisk, flash.
Dean lets out a shuddering breath at the words and tenses, eyes wide and blank. His body stills until even his breathing slows, so shallow that it seems to not be happening at all.
“Perfect,” Azazel whispers. “But then, for this, you always were.” John’s quieter now, seething with anger and doubt and the demon laughs. Oh, I apologize, John. I’m being a very rude guest, here. Can’t have you be the only one in the dark about what’s going on. Demonic abilities are powerful, but you can’t do everything with them, more’s the pity. Get up inside the right people though and you can learn the darnedest things. I can build a ship inside a bottle. Do you have any idea how hard that is? I can pilot the space shuttle. And I did one memorable day back in eighty-six. I could throw Dean against a wall, strip him bare and have him any way I wanted, but where’s the finesse in that? There are real pros out there at mind control and I’ve possessed some of the greatest of all time. I just used what I learned from them to whammy your boy into a trip down our own personal memory lane.
Azazel snaps his fingers and Dean’s back, seemingly on the verge of darting from the chair and running out of the cabin. His eyes are still wide and hazy in a face that’s now less guarded; the protective mask a shadow of what it will become. Fear and defiance war on features that belong on a much younger Dean.
“You know where we are, Dean?” Azazel’s voice rumbles and Dean shivers but doesn’t move, glazed eyes still staring at the flashing blade of the knife.
“Wherever you say we are,” he whispers.
“Very good,” Azazel says and Dean relaxes a little. Always such a praise slut, John. Something lacking in his relationship with you, I figure. “We’re outside the no-tell mo-tel we ended up at your first night working the streets. Remember?”
“Yes.” The word is almost silent but Azazel and his prisoner hear it clearly. John’s frenzied struggle ceases for one shocked moment and the demon takes advantage.
You remember leaving your kids in Sarasota in ninety-three, John? Giving Dean the old ‘I’ll be back in a week, ten days at the most’ speech and taking off for almost three months? How do you think he made ends meet until you got back? ‘Take care of Sammy, but don’t worry about yourself,’ right? Couldn’t believe my luck when I saw him on that corner. All those predators circling, but I nabbed him. I was his first, you know, John. And I’m going to be his last. John’s battering at the walls again, loud with rage and denial, but Azazel cuts right through it This is real to him. Everything he sees here, everything he does. It all happened before, John. It’s going to happen again. Enjoy the show.
“C’mon.” Azazel inclines his head toward the bedroom door and hides a smile as Dean swallows convulsively. “That’s my room over there.”
Dean stands but doesn’t move, his face impossibly young.
“Look, I’m not doing this in an alleyway, kid. It’s my room or no deal.”
Dean looks at Azazel for the first time. “Doing what?”
“That’s up to you. What are you offering?” It had been dark that night but Azazel could see in Dean’s eyes that the answer he wanted to give was along the lines of “a hard kick in the nuts.” He hadn’t said it then and he doesn’t say it now.
“Twenty-five to jerk you off or…or, fifty to blow you.”
Azazel had pretended to consider. He knew creatures, human and otherwise who would pay a hundred times that to be the recipient of that mouth’s maiden voyage. “Hand job ain’t worth more than twenty, kid, but if a pretty boy puts on a good show sucking the come off his fingers, some guys might throw in five extra. Fifty’s low for an experienced cock sucker, but I figure it might be about right for you, so come on in. We’ll see if you’re worth the money.”
Dean looks at the door and back at the demon. Azazel can see him thinking, knows he and Sam are about to be put out of the craphole apartment John left them in and that there have been no groceries since Dean almost got caught ripping off the corner market. Can’t risk Sammy going to protective services can he, John? No matter what he has to do to keep it from happening. Finally, Dean takes a deep breath, nods. Azazel leads the way to the door before opening it and going inside. Dean hesitates in the opening, expression halfway between determined and skittish.
“Chickening out, kid? Hey, no skin off my dick. You can leave right now, no hard feelings.” He smiles and turns away, leaving Dean unimpeded in the open doorway. “I’m sure whatever you need the money for isn’t that important.”
Dean stares straight back into the long ago, not seeing his father or the spartan cabin bedroom, but a stranger with a fat wallet and a comfortably furnished motel room. Indecision is plain on his face, but Azazel’s not worried. It’s already happened once, after all.
“Make up your mind, boy,” he says, putting a fifty dollar bill on the bed table before dropping down to sit on the bed. “You don’t want my money, I’m sure there’s some other kid out there who does.”
Dean takes one step forward, then another. He stops halfway into the room, a good foot beyond the demon’s reach.
Azazel grins as he unsnaps John’s jeans. “Boy, I’m hung, but I ain’t that hung. You’re gonna have to come a bit closer for us to do our business.” John’s awake and watching everything, Azazel won’t let him do otherwise, but he also opens his own memories up to his captive, overlaying a vision of fourteen year old Dean on his adult counterpart.
Azazel shakes his head as Dean shuffles a few inches closer, how much he doesn’t want to do this written all over his face. “You wanna make any money whorin’, you need to show a little more enthusiasm than that. I can tell you’re new at this so I’m gonna sweeten the pot a little.”
Dean’s expression tightens at Azazel’s words and he takes a step back, wary.
“Take it easy there, slugger. Here’s the deal. There’s an extra hundred bucks headed your way if you show some skin.” He pulls out another bill and lays it beside the first.
Dean looks at it and chews his lip. “How much skin?”
Azazel smiles. “All of it.”
Dean snorts, shaking his head. “No way.”
“C’mon, kid, it’s easy money. “ Azazel shrugs. “A lot easier than the first fifty’s gonna be, anyway.”
Dean stares at the cash and Azazel sees the wheels spinning. A hundred and fifty dollars is a quarter of the way to getting the apartment manager who’s clamoring for the rent off his back. It’s fewer perverts he has to attract and less time away from his brother. Less risk, if he can believe what he’s being told, and more reward. Dean doesn’t believe it though; Azazel can see it on his face. Your kid’s desperate, John, but he’s not desperate enough. Yet. Dean’s eyes linger on the money for a moment then lock on Azazel’s. “We do this with my clothes on or we don’t do it.”
Azazel shrugs like it’s no big deal because it really isn’t. Unlike the first time around, he already knows what’s going to happen. “Your loss, kid.” He puts the bill back in his wallet, not missing the way Dean’s jaw clenches as his eyes track it.
Dean’s hands bunch into fists and he tries to stare the demon down. Adult Dean makes a pretty good job of it, but the demon shuts that out and only lets John see the glare his teenager is shooting their way. “You touch me and I’m going to hurt you. Bad.”
It’s said in seriousness and Azazel knows Dean believes it. Believes he could get the best of an adult built like his father (Azazel had been very particular in his choice of hosts for this), not even thinking there could be anything else could be going on. I could have torn him to pieces right there, John. More fun this way though... letting him rip himself to shreds. Having him still here, now, to do this.
Azazel holds his hands up in the air wiggling his fingers. “Gonna keep these to myself, I promise.” This time. He pops the snap, takes down the zipper and lifts his ass enough to slide John’s worn jeans past his hips. John’s cock is hot and heavy in his hand and Azazel strokes it, aware of Dean’s eyes widening at the sight. The man he’d possessed in Florida hadn’t been this well endowed, but he’d still been more than Dean could take. Of course Dean had been smaller and less experienced then. By the time tonight’s over he’ll be deep throating his father like a pro.
“I’m hoping you’ve at least had a blow job, kid. Don’t want to have to talk you through everything, here.”
“I know what to do,” Dean mutters, dropping to his knees.
He really didn’t, John, not this time. He sure does now, though. Didn’t take him long to learn, either. Your boy’s a natural.
The demon leans back, forcing his hands tightly against the mattress to keep them from gripping Dean’s hair and pulling him down. Patience, unlikely as it seems, is one of his best qualities and it’s really paid off here. The long game he’s been playing with each Winchester is about to come to a most satisfactory conclusion.
Dean’s panting hard and fast, puffs of warm air ghosting over sensitive flesh. Azazel groans as the pink tip of Dean’s tongue slides across those sinful lips and it’s all he can do to keep his hands in place. John’s gone quiet but Azazel can feel the cold, hard rage emanating from him. Just wait, it gets better.
“Look, breathing on it feels pretty damned good but it ain’t what I’m paying you for. Get that tongue movin’, why don’t you?” Dean looks up, startled and lets out another breath that has Azazel shuddering. The demon raises a hand long enough to make a ‘get on with it’ gesture. “Lick it. Like a Popsicle, like a candy cane, like whatever the hell you like licking. Then think ‘lollypop’ and suck. Jesus, kid, I thought you knew what to do.” Azazel suppresses a grin at the look Dean shoots him, outrage mixing with shame in those glorious eyes.
Dean hesitantly leans forward, smothering small grunt of disgust as he takes a first, tentative lick. His second swipe’s bolder and with the third his hands come up to hold the bobbing flesh still.
“Oh, that’s good,” Azazel murmurs. Isn’t that good, John? Told you he was a fast learner. “One hand under my balls,” the demon instructs. “And keep the other one moving. I know you know how to do that.”
Dean looks up rebelliously. “Not getting paid for a hand job too.”
“Kid, what you’re doing ain’t worth five bucks, never mind fifty. And I’m betting that when you do finally get to the main event you’re not even going to be able to take me very deep. You need to throw in a hand job to make this worth what I’m paying you.”
Dean’s eyes harden but drop and Azazel leans back on his palms, a small groan slipping from his throat as Dean gets back to work. There’s a wordless growl from deep inside as Dean’s tongue works its way up and up until it’s glossing over the crown of Azazel’s stolen cock. Dean sputters as he gets a taste of pre-come and the sensation sends a tremor through both Azazel and John. There we go. Fury and disgust war with unwanted pleasure and Azazel sighs in contentment. Knew if you gave him a try you’d get the appeal. Darkness that’s purely human swirls inside Azazel, but finds no chink in his armor. Settle down, John. We’re far from finished.
“All right, kid, enough foreplay.” Dean looks apprehensively up through his lashes and the demon needs all his self control not to paint Dean’s face with come at the sight. Fuck, John, how did you not hit that? He’d make a mint on video. Dean swallows hard and the motion of his throat further strains Azazel’s control. “Open wide, we’re moving on to the main event.”
Dean tenses, hands tightening more than is comfortable and Azazel grunts his displeasure. “Lighten up with the kung fu grip, kid.” Dean relaxes slightly and the demon lets out a breath. Here we go, John. Ready? “Nothing to it,” he says to the back of Dean’s bowed head. “Open up, start at the top, take as much as you can and suck. Tongue action is always good and watch the teeth. Dean looks up and defiantly curls his lips over his teeth as Azazel snickers. “So far, so good.”
They’re the last coherent words the demon manages for a while as Dean’s warm mouth settles over the glistening head of John’s dick. “Yeah,” he manages, as Dean’s nimble tongue flicks against the underside of the shaft. “Right there,” he groans once or twice, and “take it deeper, kid.” His internal monologue is more pointed. Oh, stop, John. How can I appreciate the wonderful blow job your son is giving me if you’re going to carry on like this? There’s nothing you can do about it, so you might as well sit back and enjoy it because it’s going to take a while. Demons have stamina to burn,
Dean gags every time Azazel gives a tiny thrust of his hips and the demon feeds the sensation directly into John’s mind. Small grunts amid the slurps are all the sound Dean makes and Azazel wants it to go on forever. Got a lot more to get to tonight, though, John. Here we go. He pushes forward, forcing Dean’s jaws even wider. “Ready, kid? ‘Cause here it comes.”
Dean’s eyes widen as his mouth is filled to overflowing with semen and he desperately swallows to keep from choking. Azazel stares at the white streams running down Dean’s chin and dripping onto his chest and he shoots another load. Dean pulls off, coughing and Azazel leans back with a satisfied sigh. That’s round one.
“Not too bad for your first time,” Azazel says with a smirk, holding out the fifty. “Now take your fully clothed ass out of here and see how many times you have to get on your knees in a filthy alley to make back that hundred bucks you passed up.”
Dean reaches for the money, but Azazel doesn’t let him take it just yet. Snap. Dean’s eyes go blank again. “We’re going to skip forward a little to the next time you came here.” Snap. “Learned a few things in between didn’t you?”
Dean nods slowly and Azazel’s memory paints a portrait for John in purples and blacks. Dean’s face is bruised and he’s hunched over slightly, nursing what Azazel knows are cracked ribs. I might have stacked the deck with your boy’s other clients, John. But my boys need to have their fun too.
The fifty goes back on the table and Dean’s haunted eyes follow it before flicking to Azazel and then to the floor. He’s waiting for something, but Azazel can wait too. He’s been spectacularly patient for thirteen years, after all.
Dean wets his lips and Azazel hungrily watches his throat contract as he swallows. Dean’s eyes stay locked on the floor as he speaks. “So,” he says, raspy voice stirring Azazel’s libido. “Same deal as before?”
“Fifty for you to suck my dick,” the demon answers, relishing the way Dean’s jaw tightens. Not going to make it easy on him, John. He’s got to ask.
“No, I mean…” Dean shifts under Azazel’s questioning look. “I’ll strip for the extra hundred.”
Azazel pretends to consider as he’d pretended all those years ago. “Thought showing skin was against your religion or something. But if you’ve seen the light, I’m still game.“
“I don’t have a religion,” Dean replies. “Not one that you’d get anyway.” In a few economical motions, he’s peeling his t-shirt over his head. He kicks off his sneakers and pulls off his socks, but his fingers twist for a moment on the button of his jeans as he eyes the man on the bed. “Same rules as before. Touch me and you’ll be sorry.”
“Hundred bucks is a lot to just look, but a deal’s a deal. Want to seal it with a kiss?” Dean’s face scrunches up and the demon shrugs. “Another time, maybe.” As Dean slowly unzips and pushes down his jeans, Azazel’s eyes sweep over him, appreciating the differences between the teenager he’d had his way with so long ago and the man whose favors he’s about to enjoy. That Dean had been strong but wiry where this Dean is solidly built; smooth where adult Dean is patterned with scars. The same pink blush stains his skin though; the boy in Dean’s mind embarrassed by his nudity. Azazel wants his hands on that body so badly he can taste it, but…we can wait, can’t we John? First things first.
He beckons Dean closer and Dean comes, one small step at a time, dragging his jeans along with one bare foot. Back in the day there’d been a knife hidden in them. Now, Azazel knows the Colt is wrapped up in the ragged denim. Well, he’ll have his hands on that when it’s time too. When Dean’s standing just outside the spread of Azazel’s thighs, he hesitates, about to kneel when the demon holds up a hand.
“Stay right there for a minute. I want to enjoy the view.” He knows Dean’s following the way his eyes trail slowly down his chest; the blush deepens until all Dean’s beautiful freckles are swallowed up in it. Scars crisscross Dean’s abdomen and Azazel visually traces each one, relishing the pain that must have gone along with them, before halting his gaze between Dean’s slightly spread thighs. All grown up, Johnny. Mmm,mmm,mmm.
Dean shifts uncomfortably as the scrutiny goes on, but Azazel doesn’t rush. After he’s looked his fill he leans back with a sigh. “Boy, you sure are pretty. It’s a real waste to have you out on those streets when you could be earning good money in here every day.”
“Can’t do this every day,” Dean replies, hissing as he sets one knee down, then the other. Azazel hadn’t lingered below Dean’s crotch for long, but the abrasions on his knees had been hard to miss.
“Why not?” the demon asks, though he knows perfectly well. Couldn’t whore himself while baby brother was home, could he John? Had to hit the streets on days when Sam had soccer practice. Then there were those sublime days when Sammy went home for dinner with little Billy Slocum; his mother was one of mine, you know, and Dean could spend some extra time working his magic on my cock. Sammy had one afterschool activity and Dean had another. Your boys in a nutshell, right there.
“None of your business,” Dean mutters, taking Azazel into his mouth to forestall any more conversation. As a diversionary tactic it works wonders.
“Mmmmmm,” the demon groans. “You learned a few things since last time, boy.“ He runs a thumb alongside Dean’s bruised cheek, almost, but not quite touching. “Your teachers give you these?” he asks, though he already knows this answer too. His instructions to his subordinates had been clear on the subject of how much damage could be done to Dean’s fine packaging. A few bruises and some pointed pointers on sucking cock. No more. And, to be fair, they kept anyone with more nefarious designs on young Dean, here, away. No one was getting into that tight virgin ass before I did.
Dean shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the motion pulls on tender muscles bracketing cracked bone and an involuntary groan rumbles up his throat. Tongue swirling, he bobs up and down, unable to suppress the tiny exhalations of pain each movement costs him.
“Oh, yeah,” Azazel says with a whistle, staring down the long line of Dean’s back. “That’s it. Hum, baby. Kind of glad you spent a few nights out there getting schooled.” Dean falters for a moment, then keeps up the steady vibration and Azazel’s breath catches. “Good boy,” he says, voice deep, and smiles as Dean shivers. Oh, John. You couldn’t have primed him better if you tried.
When Azazel comes this time, Dean swallows it all, looking up with something like a challenge on his face.
“That was all right,” the demon concedes. “But you’re going to be a whole lot better before we’re done.”
Snap.
“Okay, my boy. The next act will be the first time you didn’t suck my cock.”
Snap.
Dean stays in position, kneeling on the floor, but memory Dean pauses inside the hotel room door, giving Azazel a resigned look. “A hundred and fifty for a naked blowjob still the deal?”
The demon’s laugh is almost fond. “Oh, I’m not paying extra for something I’ve already gotten. Maybe we can negotiate extra money for something new. Now strip down, sweetheart, and decide if you want to make a hundred bucks tonight.”
“A hundred bucks for what?” Dean asks suspiciously.
“For the use of your mouth.”
“What…?” Dean’s eyes narrow in confusion. “You get that every time.”
“Not looking to get my dick sucked tonight, kid. Something new, remember?”
“Like what?”
“Want to kiss you. With a little hands on action.”
Dean’s lip curls as he snorts in derision. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, good night, then.” Azazel gestures to the door.
“You really don’t want me to blow you.” Dean’s skeptical and Azazel grins.
“I really don’t want you to blow me.” It’d be overkill here, John, don’t you think? That mouth’s worked hard tonight already and I can’t wait to lick our taste out of it. Back then, though. I gotta say, playing with Dean was so much fun. Getting him to agree to this was almost better than getting my cock sucked.
“And you want me to go.” Rain’s drumming against the sidewalk, windows shivering in the roaring wind. Nobody will be trolling the alleys tonight and Azazel’s men taught Dean better than to ever get in a car with a john again.
“No,” Azazel corrects with a smirk, patting the bed beside him. “I want you to get naked, sit down here and make out with me. But you don’t seem to want to do that, so…”
That Dean doesn’t want to do it couldn’t be clearer, but he kicks off his boots with a scowl, the rest of his clothes following in short order. John’s emotions are shifting wildly and Azazel laughs. Oh, don’t be too hard on him, Daddy. I got one of my guys in the apartment manager, and he’s pressuring Dean for the rent. Plus an extra couple of grand to keep from tattling about two kids living alone for so long. Boy’s really doing the best that he can.
Snap.
Azazel pats the bed again and present and past become one as Dean reluctantly settles beside him. The demon hooks one leg up on the mattress so he’s facing Dean and motions for him to do the same. “Want to make sure I get a good look at everything I’m paying for,” he says with a leer, licking his lips as Dean does as he’s told.
Those beautiful eyes are locked on the wall past Azazel’s shoulder and that won’t do. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he orders, running a thumb along Dean’s lips. Dean flicks his eyes to Azazel’s, then away again. Azazel shakes his head and grips Dean’s chin, pulling their gazes into line. “Eyes on me,” he repeats, giving Dean’s head a firm shake.
Dean jerks his chin out of the other man’s grasp and locks his eyes on Azazel’s. There’s defiance swirling in their depths but despair and fear overshadow it. Azazel lets John drink it all in for a long moment before wrapping his hand around the back of Dean’s head and pulling him close. He doesn’t ease Dean into the kiss, instead pressing hard against his mouth. Dean lets out a muffled protest when Azazel’s tongue flicks out hungrily to swipe at his lips. Azazel lets out a small sigh in answer, disappointed by the difference between now and then. Shame we couldn’t all get together like this back when he was fourteen John. He’s not nearly as sweet and tender as he used to be. Still, we’ll make do with what we have, won’t we?
“Relax, kid,” he says, pulling back a fraction. “We’re kissing here, with the emphasis on we.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head in mock despair. “You don’t need lessons in that too, do you?”
“No,” Dean mutters. “It’s just…”
“Just what?” Azazel prompts. “Just that you never thought you’d be kissing a man? Bet you never thought you’d be sucking dick for money either, but you’re sure becoming a pro at that. C’mon, slugger.” His grin could cut diamonds. “Put some heart into it.”
Dean’s tongue peeks out, slides across already slick lips and Azazel groans as he roughly drags him in again. This time Dean’s lips soften and part slightly, allowing Azazel’s questing tongue inside. Fingers twine in Dean’s hair, holding him in place as Azazel’s other hand traces down Dean’s face to his throat, lingering against his racing pulse before meandering its way lower.
Dean twitches away again when Azazel drags rough fingers over his nipple, reaching up to push the other man’s hand off his body. “No,” he says, shaking his head wildly. “I didn’t say you could…”
Azazel stares at Dean’s hand on his arm and raises his eyebrows. “You know where the door is kid. Anytime you want to walk out it I’m not going to stop you.” Can’t say I didn’t give him a choice, John. You’re the one that left him with no choices.
The battle that plays out in Dean’s eyes is short and bloody and when it’s over Azazel mentally pops a bottle of champagne at the despair emanating from both Winchesters. He plucks Dean’s hand from his arm and moves it down, wrapping it around his raging hard on. “Kid,” he says, guiding Dean’s hand up and down, “if you’re going to have your hands on me, they’re going to be doing something useful.” Azazel grins as Dean’s jaw tightens but when he goes back to kneading that perky nipple Dean’s hand keeps right on moving. “That’s it,” he adds, approvingly. “Now get your mouth back to work and we’ll be in business.”
A deep breath escapes Dean’s lungs as he leans into Azazel’s kiss, turning to a soft sound of protest as Azazel’s hand slips lower. There’s a flinch when Azazel cradles Dean’s testicles in his hand, but Dean doesn’t try to move away.
“Spread your legs a little further, baby,” Azazel whispers before capturing Dean’s mouth again. Dean’s cock, soft and small in his palm, begins to stiffen under Azazel’s steady strokes and the noises Dean’s making against Azazel’s lips begin to change. “Yeah. Feels good, doesn’t it.”
Dean shakes his head but slides his thighs further apart as his hips start to thrust in rhythm with Azazel’s hand. The demon moves faster and faster, Dean bucking up into him as his own fingers match speed. Azazel times it carefully, spilling over Dean’s fist just before Dean shudders out his own orgasm. He releases Dean’s mouth after swallowing his already muted cry and runs come coated fingers over Dean’s lips.
“Open up and clean me off, kid,” he orders, dick beginning to stiffen again when Dean obeys. It comes all the way to attention when he makes Dean shamefacedly lick his own fingers clean and Azazel can’t wait any longer. It’s time to get to the main event.
Snap
Part 2