fic: A Taste of Innocence
Title: A Taste of Innocence
Author: wolfish_willow
Pairing: Sam/Brady
Rating: NC-17
Genre: angst, dark!fic?
Spoilers: 5.20 "The Devil You Know"
Warnings: non-con, hurt!Sam, unbeta'd, dark!fic?
Word Count: 2218
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just using them for a bit of fun. They belong to Kripke.
Summary: Written for prompt: The YED said not to, but Brady can't resist putting on a show and corrupting Sam a little bit more when he takes him to a bar and Sam gets roofied.
For an extra kick, Brady taunts Sam and Dean finds out about what happened when they kill him in the alley. at spn_hardcore's first 'Non-Con' Meme.
A/N: This was my first attempt at anything like this. And it's unbeta'd. Feel free to point out any typos. Concrit is always welcome.
Brady can't help the way his eyes track the youngest Winchester as the tall brunette stumbles his way to the men's room.
It had been difficult convincing Sam to go out to a bar in the first place, the kid wanted to use the time to study, even though Brady knew damn well that there wasn't anything Sam needed to study for.
But after much prodding and whining about needing to let loose for the night, Sam finally seemed to decide it would be best if he accompanied his best friend, probably to keep an eye on him.
Brady decides it was all worth it as he watches Sam hobbling his way back to the table a few minutes later. Each time the taller man blinks, it seems to take more effort than it should to open them once more, and as Sam sits at their table, his movements are sluggish; so unlike how the "former"-hunter usually holds himself.
"Are you feelin' alright there, Sammy?" Brady asks, finding it hard to keep from smiling at this new promising situation.
Sam looks at him, hazel eyes filled with what Brady thinks is probably part confusion, part worry and, yeah, it's getting more and more difficult to keep the 'concerned friend' look on his face. He is seriously wondering how he could have gotten so lucky - he might have been told not to corrupt little Sammy Winchester in all sorts of fun ways, but he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like this. Brady kind of wishes he'd paid more attention to who wanted Sam bad enough to drug the kid, but it really doesn't matter - he'll be the one taking the youngest Winchester tonight.
"I'm... actually, no," Sam's brow furrows as he speaks, words coming slow and nearly slurring, "I think... home. We should go..."
Brady nods as he stands, stepping beside Sam to help the brunette up and lead him out of the bar.
It's darker out than Brady thought it was going to be; just another sign that tonight is perfect for him. He leads the tall man, helping Sam to stay upright as they walk past the front of the bar.
Brady is practically vibrating with excitement when they reach the alley beside the bar. It's just light enough that he can see Sam blinking confusedly down at him when he shoves him against the side of the building, dark enough that they won't be easily seen; and it's all open enough that there's that thrill that they'll get caught and Brady isn't even trying to hide his smile anymore.
He lifts a hand to push Sam's bangs from his face, not wanting the kid's eyes obscured by anything; they are still filled with confusion, sluggish when he blinks.
Brady looks around for something to prop the Sasquatch of a man up; what he's got planned will be difficult to accomplish with the way Sam's legs are refusing to hold him up.
He doesn't even have to look far; they're beside a bar, of course there are dumpsters around, the perfect height to bend Sam over.
"Wht're you d'in..?" Sam slurs as Brady pulls the taller man away from the wall and towards the dumpsters. Sam's hands are pushing against him now, but even the kid's lifetime of training doesn't do him much good with drugs slowing everything down.
Brady flips Sam around, finally getting the youngest Winchester into a position he's been dying to see since he'd been given his assignment. He feels Sam trying to push him off, struggling beneath him where his chest is pressed against the kid's back and his Brady is suddenly hard enough to cut diamonds when Sam's pleas reach his ears, muffled and quiet from the way his cheek is pressed onto the surface of the dumpster's lid, "Stop! Ger'off"
His words are quiet, struggles feeble and Brady allows his hands to slide under Sam's hoodie and shirt, running his fingers roughly up Sam's stomach to his chest. Sam grunts when Brady gives his nipples a few harsh tweaks, pressing in closer to nuzzle the nape of his neck before sinking his teeth in, leaving the first of many marks he plans to leave on the boy.
It's ridiculous just how easy it is to grab Sam's weakly flailing arms and hold the wrists in one hand, using his other to undo Sam's belt buckle and jeans. He moves his mouth up Sam's neck, sucking hard against the pulse point beneath his lips; pleased with how quickly the pulse is fluttering through the veins.
Brady leans back, Sam's wrists still caught in one hand, and lifts Sam back from the surface enough to let his jeans fall to his hips; kicks at one of the ridiculously long legs to spread them further as he pushes Sam into the dumpster once more.
He presses forward, still reveling in how Sam continues trying to struggle even as it accomplishes nothing, and presses his lips to the shell of Sam's ear, "No idea how long I've wanted to do this, Sammy." Brady nips at the kid's earlobe sharply enough to earn another grunt, "Can't wait to feel you around me, Winchester."
Brady lowers the hand not holding Sam's wrists to his own jeans, undoing his buckle and button, carefully pulling the zipper down so as not to catch on his aching erection. He lets go of Sam long enough to pull the youngest Winchester's boxers down along with his own, chuckling at the whimper that escapes Sam's throat.
He watches as Sam tries to push himself up while Brady is busy with getting their clothes out of the way. It's really kind of adorable, he thinks.
When he brings his face up to Sam's shoulder, neck, cheek again he smirks and licks away the tears he finds there.
"Mmm. How can you taste so innocent after all you've seen Sammy boy?"
"Please, please, please, stop. Please stop, please..." Sam's mouth barely moves with each word, and Brady finally muffles the pleas when he presses two fingers into Sam's pliant mouth; the human too far gone to even bite down against them.
"Shhh."
He uses his other hand to pet Sam's head where it's resting on the lid's surface.
Brady watches as Sam blinks his unfocused eyes rapidly, letting more tears fall as he removes his fingers from Sam's mouth and runs the other hand down from Sam's head, over his shoulder and back until he can slide it underneath to grip at Sam's side.
Sam hasn't started up his pleas again and Brady is almost disappointed by that until he hears the broken whimper Sam makes as a spit-slick finger breaches his entrance none-too-gently. Brady groans at the tight heat as he pumps his finger in and out roughly before adding another, barely stretching.
The hoarse yelp Sam gives tells Brady he hit that spot inside the kid that probably has him seeing stars behind his eyes; eyes that release more tears at the realization that he just felt something pleasureable, something Brady thinks the human's addled mind is having trouble dealing with. He smiles against Sam's neck before biting into his shoulder and removing his fingers.
The heat feels amazing as he positions his cock, pre-cum oozing from the head and as Brady shoves into Sam, cock enveloped in that hot pressure, he thinks again how lucky he is to have chosen tonight to drag Sam out of their dorm.
One shove and he's in to the hilt, licking up Sam's neck while he lets his body adjust; he wants to drag this out as much as he can, Brady isn't fooling himself into thinking he'll have this chance again.
When he's sure he isn't going to lose it, Brady pulls nearly completely out and shoves back in, hard and deep as he can in this position. If the rush of doing this outside, in an alley of a bar with people mere feet away, wasn't so exhilarating he would almost wish he could have Sam on his hands and knees to get as deep as possible. But he'll take what he can get.
He keeps pumping in and out, running his left hand all over Sam's body - tweaking a nipple, teasing at Sam's cock - while his other hand grips Sam's hip tight enough he's sure to leave bruises. That thought alone has him groaning again.
Sam mewls beneath him, body jerking while Brady moves and he knows he's hitting that spot again. Sam won't be getting hard - side effects of the drugs in his system - but Brady can just imagine what must be going through that drug-addled mind as the pleasure spikes through him with each thrust.
Brady knows he isn't going to last much longer now, he can feel the heat pooling low in his belly and he uses both hands to grip Sam's hips. His rythym becomes erratic, and he leaves one last lingering bite at Sam's neck as he comes.
He rests his weight over Sam's slumped, used form and breathes in the scent of sweat and sex lingering over the both of them.
A minute later and Brady has his pants done up once more, pulling Sam's up and fastening them in place.
Sam is completely out of it, finally dead to the world and Brady just stares at the youngest Winchester for the longest time before he lugs the rumpled-looking, passed out body into his arms, carrying him back to campus.
Brady finds a bench in one of the darker places on the way back to their dorm and drops Sam into it, sure he won't be noticed tonight. He steps back and takes another minute to look at the tear streaked cheeks, the way Sam's hair stands up in so many directions.
Brady whistles the whole way back to his room.
***
When Sam walks into the room, looking deliciously disheveled Brady reins in his smile and puts on those damned concerned Best Friend eyes again, "Hey Sam, it's not like you to get in so late. You okay?"
All of Sam's emotions war on the boy's face. Brady sees all of the younger Winchester's confusion, his indecision on whether to tell his best friend and roommate about what he must think happened to him, if the slight wince of pain is any indication.
Sam's face crumples and Brady nearly loses it when Sam comes to sit on his bed and proceeds to tell him that he can't remember anything about the night before beyond having a few drinks at the bar with him. It's better than Brady had imagined it would be to have the youngest Winchester falling apart in front of him.
But he keeps in character; lets Sam cry on his shoulder, rubs his friend's back. He's even the one Sam asks to come along with him when he gets checked out. Yeah, way better than he'd imagined.
***
Brady watches as Dean Winchester pours a line of salt at the only entrance and exit of the alley.
"What is this?" he asks as his eyes dart around for another way out. He can see Sam coming closer, that damn demon killing knife in his hand as Dean hangs back, just watching.
He barely listens to Dean's answer, something about angels and demons - and really, don't they have anything else to talk about? - while Sam keeps walking towards him. Brady looks into Sam's eyes as he keeps walking towards him and feels the smirk that forms on his face when he thinks about the last time he had the youngest Winchester in an alley.
"This alley brings back some great memories, don't you think Sammy?"
Sam pauses in his walk and Brady knows from the widening of Sam's puppy-dog eyes, the way the cold, hard look behind them is replaced with the fear - whether of realizing the truth or big brother finding out Brady doesn't know or care - that Sam knows exactly what he's talking about.
"You were amazing that night, Sam, truly. Rocked my world."
The taller man stops completely, knife shaking in his grip and Brady loves the flinch he sees when Dean's voice breaks through the tense silence, "What the hell is he talkin' about, Sam?"
Brady looks over at the older brother, adopting that 'concerned friend' look he'd perfected back at Stanford, "You mean Sammy never told you about all the fun we had? He was so tight the night I fucked him."
Dean's eyes widen while Sam seems to shrink in on himself right before Brady's eyes and he outright smiles at the picture they make, "I bet your tears don't taste quite the same as they did then, huh Sammy? But I'm sure they look just as good on you now as they did then."
Sam seems to shake himself out of the shock of having his secret revealed and learning the truth at the same time. The youngest Winchester sets a glare on him and Brady knows he's not going to get out of this.
But hey, the look on Dean's face when he learned about how Ruby wasn't the first demon to have taken advantage of his little Sammy? It was worth it.
Author: wolfish_willow
Pairing: Sam/Brady
Rating: NC-17
Genre: angst, dark!fic?
Spoilers: 5.20 "The Devil You Know"
Warnings: non-con, hurt!Sam, unbeta'd, dark!fic?
Word Count: 2218
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just using them for a bit of fun. They belong to Kripke.
Summary: Written for prompt: The YED said not to, but Brady can't resist putting on a show and corrupting Sam a little bit more when he takes him to a bar and Sam gets roofied.
For an extra kick, Brady taunts Sam and Dean finds out about what happened when they kill him in the alley. at spn_hardcore's first 'Non-Con' Meme.
A/N: This was my first attempt at anything like this. And it's unbeta'd. Feel free to point out any typos. Concrit is always welcome.
Brady can't help the way his eyes track the youngest Winchester as the tall brunette stumbles his way to the men's room.
It had been difficult convincing Sam to go out to a bar in the first place, the kid wanted to use the time to study, even though Brady knew damn well that there wasn't anything Sam needed to study for.
But after much prodding and whining about needing to let loose for the night, Sam finally seemed to decide it would be best if he accompanied his best friend, probably to keep an eye on him.
Brady decides it was all worth it as he watches Sam hobbling his way back to the table a few minutes later. Each time the taller man blinks, it seems to take more effort than it should to open them once more, and as Sam sits at their table, his movements are sluggish; so unlike how the "former"-hunter usually holds himself.
"Are you feelin' alright there, Sammy?" Brady asks, finding it hard to keep from smiling at this new promising situation.
Sam looks at him, hazel eyes filled with what Brady thinks is probably part confusion, part worry and, yeah, it's getting more and more difficult to keep the 'concerned friend' look on his face. He is seriously wondering how he could have gotten so lucky - he might have been told not to corrupt little Sammy Winchester in all sorts of fun ways, but he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like this. Brady kind of wishes he'd paid more attention to who wanted Sam bad enough to drug the kid, but it really doesn't matter - he'll be the one taking the youngest Winchester tonight.
"I'm... actually, no," Sam's brow furrows as he speaks, words coming slow and nearly slurring, "I think... home. We should go..."
Brady nods as he stands, stepping beside Sam to help the brunette up and lead him out of the bar.
It's darker out than Brady thought it was going to be; just another sign that tonight is perfect for him. He leads the tall man, helping Sam to stay upright as they walk past the front of the bar.
Brady is practically vibrating with excitement when they reach the alley beside the bar. It's just light enough that he can see Sam blinking confusedly down at him when he shoves him against the side of the building, dark enough that they won't be easily seen; and it's all open enough that there's that thrill that they'll get caught and Brady isn't even trying to hide his smile anymore.
He lifts a hand to push Sam's bangs from his face, not wanting the kid's eyes obscured by anything; they are still filled with confusion, sluggish when he blinks.
Brady looks around for something to prop the Sasquatch of a man up; what he's got planned will be difficult to accomplish with the way Sam's legs are refusing to hold him up.
He doesn't even have to look far; they're beside a bar, of course there are dumpsters around, the perfect height to bend Sam over.
"Wht're you d'in..?" Sam slurs as Brady pulls the taller man away from the wall and towards the dumpsters. Sam's hands are pushing against him now, but even the kid's lifetime of training doesn't do him much good with drugs slowing everything down.
Brady flips Sam around, finally getting the youngest Winchester into a position he's been dying to see since he'd been given his assignment. He feels Sam trying to push him off, struggling beneath him where his chest is pressed against the kid's back and his Brady is suddenly hard enough to cut diamonds when Sam's pleas reach his ears, muffled and quiet from the way his cheek is pressed onto the surface of the dumpster's lid, "Stop! Ger'off"
His words are quiet, struggles feeble and Brady allows his hands to slide under Sam's hoodie and shirt, running his fingers roughly up Sam's stomach to his chest. Sam grunts when Brady gives his nipples a few harsh tweaks, pressing in closer to nuzzle the nape of his neck before sinking his teeth in, leaving the first of many marks he plans to leave on the boy.
It's ridiculous just how easy it is to grab Sam's weakly flailing arms and hold the wrists in one hand, using his other to undo Sam's belt buckle and jeans. He moves his mouth up Sam's neck, sucking hard against the pulse point beneath his lips; pleased with how quickly the pulse is fluttering through the veins.
Brady leans back, Sam's wrists still caught in one hand, and lifts Sam back from the surface enough to let his jeans fall to his hips; kicks at one of the ridiculously long legs to spread them further as he pushes Sam into the dumpster once more.
He presses forward, still reveling in how Sam continues trying to struggle even as it accomplishes nothing, and presses his lips to the shell of Sam's ear, "No idea how long I've wanted to do this, Sammy." Brady nips at the kid's earlobe sharply enough to earn another grunt, "Can't wait to feel you around me, Winchester."
Brady lowers the hand not holding Sam's wrists to his own jeans, undoing his buckle and button, carefully pulling the zipper down so as not to catch on his aching erection. He lets go of Sam long enough to pull the youngest Winchester's boxers down along with his own, chuckling at the whimper that escapes Sam's throat.
He watches as Sam tries to push himself up while Brady is busy with getting their clothes out of the way. It's really kind of adorable, he thinks.
When he brings his face up to Sam's shoulder, neck, cheek again he smirks and licks away the tears he finds there.
"Mmm. How can you taste so innocent after all you've seen Sammy boy?"
"Please, please, please, stop. Please stop, please..." Sam's mouth barely moves with each word, and Brady finally muffles the pleas when he presses two fingers into Sam's pliant mouth; the human too far gone to even bite down against them.
"Shhh."
He uses his other hand to pet Sam's head where it's resting on the lid's surface.
Brady watches as Sam blinks his unfocused eyes rapidly, letting more tears fall as he removes his fingers from Sam's mouth and runs the other hand down from Sam's head, over his shoulder and back until he can slide it underneath to grip at Sam's side.
Sam hasn't started up his pleas again and Brady is almost disappointed by that until he hears the broken whimper Sam makes as a spit-slick finger breaches his entrance none-too-gently. Brady groans at the tight heat as he pumps his finger in and out roughly before adding another, barely stretching.
The hoarse yelp Sam gives tells Brady he hit that spot inside the kid that probably has him seeing stars behind his eyes; eyes that release more tears at the realization that he just felt something pleasureable, something Brady thinks the human's addled mind is having trouble dealing with. He smiles against Sam's neck before biting into his shoulder and removing his fingers.
The heat feels amazing as he positions his cock, pre-cum oozing from the head and as Brady shoves into Sam, cock enveloped in that hot pressure, he thinks again how lucky he is to have chosen tonight to drag Sam out of their dorm.
One shove and he's in to the hilt, licking up Sam's neck while he lets his body adjust; he wants to drag this out as much as he can, Brady isn't fooling himself into thinking he'll have this chance again.
When he's sure he isn't going to lose it, Brady pulls nearly completely out and shoves back in, hard and deep as he can in this position. If the rush of doing this outside, in an alley of a bar with people mere feet away, wasn't so exhilarating he would almost wish he could have Sam on his hands and knees to get as deep as possible. But he'll take what he can get.
He keeps pumping in and out, running his left hand all over Sam's body - tweaking a nipple, teasing at Sam's cock - while his other hand grips Sam's hip tight enough he's sure to leave bruises. That thought alone has him groaning again.
Sam mewls beneath him, body jerking while Brady moves and he knows he's hitting that spot again. Sam won't be getting hard - side effects of the drugs in his system - but Brady can just imagine what must be going through that drug-addled mind as the pleasure spikes through him with each thrust.
Brady knows he isn't going to last much longer now, he can feel the heat pooling low in his belly and he uses both hands to grip Sam's hips. His rythym becomes erratic, and he leaves one last lingering bite at Sam's neck as he comes.
He rests his weight over Sam's slumped, used form and breathes in the scent of sweat and sex lingering over the both of them.
A minute later and Brady has his pants done up once more, pulling Sam's up and fastening them in place.
Sam is completely out of it, finally dead to the world and Brady just stares at the youngest Winchester for the longest time before he lugs the rumpled-looking, passed out body into his arms, carrying him back to campus.
Brady finds a bench in one of the darker places on the way back to their dorm and drops Sam into it, sure he won't be noticed tonight. He steps back and takes another minute to look at the tear streaked cheeks, the way Sam's hair stands up in so many directions.
Brady whistles the whole way back to his room.
***
When Sam walks into the room, looking deliciously disheveled Brady reins in his smile and puts on those damned concerned Best Friend eyes again, "Hey Sam, it's not like you to get in so late. You okay?"
All of Sam's emotions war on the boy's face. Brady sees all of the younger Winchester's confusion, his indecision on whether to tell his best friend and roommate about what he must think happened to him, if the slight wince of pain is any indication.
Sam's face crumples and Brady nearly loses it when Sam comes to sit on his bed and proceeds to tell him that he can't remember anything about the night before beyond having a few drinks at the bar with him. It's better than Brady had imagined it would be to have the youngest Winchester falling apart in front of him.
But he keeps in character; lets Sam cry on his shoulder, rubs his friend's back. He's even the one Sam asks to come along with him when he gets checked out. Yeah, way better than he'd imagined.
***
Brady watches as Dean Winchester pours a line of salt at the only entrance and exit of the alley.
"What is this?" he asks as his eyes dart around for another way out. He can see Sam coming closer, that damn demon killing knife in his hand as Dean hangs back, just watching.
He barely listens to Dean's answer, something about angels and demons - and really, don't they have anything else to talk about? - while Sam keeps walking towards him. Brady looks into Sam's eyes as he keeps walking towards him and feels the smirk that forms on his face when he thinks about the last time he had the youngest Winchester in an alley.
"This alley brings back some great memories, don't you think Sammy?"
Sam pauses in his walk and Brady knows from the widening of Sam's puppy-dog eyes, the way the cold, hard look behind them is replaced with the fear - whether of realizing the truth or big brother finding out Brady doesn't know or care - that Sam knows exactly what he's talking about.
"You were amazing that night, Sam, truly. Rocked my world."
The taller man stops completely, knife shaking in his grip and Brady loves the flinch he sees when Dean's voice breaks through the tense silence, "What the hell is he talkin' about, Sam?"
Brady looks over at the older brother, adopting that 'concerned friend' look he'd perfected back at Stanford, "You mean Sammy never told you about all the fun we had? He was so tight the night I fucked him."
Dean's eyes widen while Sam seems to shrink in on himself right before Brady's eyes and he outright smiles at the picture they make, "I bet your tears don't taste quite the same as they did then, huh Sammy? But I'm sure they look just as good on you now as they did then."
Sam seems to shake himself out of the shock of having his secret revealed and learning the truth at the same time. The youngest Winchester sets a glare on him and Brady knows he's not going to get out of this.
But hey, the look on Dean's face when he learned about how Ruby wasn't the first demon to have taken advantage of his little Sammy? It was worth it.