You're broken, so am I (1/?) NC-17
Title: You're broken, so am I
Pairing: Demon!Dean/Sam
Warnings: AU, post apocalypse fic, dark themes(Thou the first chapter is till quite..err..nice compared to what I have in mind for the future.), Sam is 16, Dean is 20, stripper!sam, demon!dean
Disclaimer: I do not own the boys, I just took them out to play.
Word Count:3031
Summary: This is an AU in which the apocalypse has already happened and brothers Winchesters have been separated during it, 16 years later they meet up again, not knowing they are brothers. Dean has been turned into a demon and Sam is working as a stripper at a gay club.
Background: The apocalypse went down and the world changed when half of the Erath's population was killed and Demons lead by Lucifer took the power on Earth into their own hands. The heavenly forces where forced to make peace with them and the humans who survived the war started to rebuilt the society, this time with Demons at the top of the foodchain.
Author's Note: X-posted to slashingdean.com archive and in various LJ coms. Title borrowed from Disturbed's song "Haunted". My awesome quick-as-hell beta was
sulfuricfusion
Story written for (and inspired by)
hydraheiress who has stolen my little black heart -- hope you like this hon. :)
Next chapter up at here.
You're broken, so am I
Chapter I
Dean didn’t really like the market. Yeah, it was the one place he could get everything he needed, but he still disliked the noise and overflowing crowds of the place, combined with the smell of filth and rotten food.
“Where to, sir?”
The voice of one of his bodyguards pulled Dean out of his thoughts and he quickly straightened his face, saying, “I need something new to play with.”
“Yes sir.” The head of his bodyguards confirmed his understanding and they set off towards the north-west side of the market, unofficially called the slave street, not to say that it only contained slave markets. No, it also had a surprising amount of bordellos, saunas, special shops and just all type of entertainment facilities one might need.
Dean knew this part of the market like his back pocket, as he came here often to find some new staff, or just for a quick fuck. He paid no attention to the overweight men eagerly inviting everyone to check their fine merchandise at the beginning of the street. Dean knew slaves well. Hell - all six young men standing around him and all the other servants in the palace were slaves. Yes, they were good for dirty, hard or boring tasks; but that was just about it. They had no free will, no ambition, no guts - hell, they didn’t even have a personality. And that was not what Dean was looking for in his bed. He liked the ones who tried to fight him, the ones who could so deliciously break, and most especially the ones who had the brains to be afraid of him.
“Wait outside,” he ordered over his shoulder to his accompaniment as he entered a door to his left. The sign over it announced “Hydra”-it was one of the not too fancy gay clubs, but Dean had been to the joint before and knew they had some pretty decent dancers on Friday evenings. Some strip sounded like a good idea as a relaxing start for his evening before getting into more serious businesses.
Long dark stairs took him down to the cellar, where he could hear the loud music pumping and see soft lights glowing. Dean ran a hand through his hair, making the stubborn strands stand in every direction and mentally checked himself out. His favorite leather jacket, green T-shirt and jeans looked innocent enough not to be noticed right away. He didn’t want that. No, tonight he wanted to be like everyone else for a little while. Even if he really wasn’t. Even if he wasn’t even a human like they were.
He paused for a moment as he stepped through the open doorway and reached the big bar room. It was already crowded and the air was thick with cigarette smoke and smell of booze. But the thing that really caught Dean’s attention was the song playing; it was Billy Idol’s “Flesh for Fantasy.” He would have never in a million years expected to hear any classic rock tune playing in a place like this. He smiled as he made his way towards the stage to see who was dancing to the song.
…Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy…
The first chorus had just begun as Dean stopped dead in his tracks. He just stared at the young man moving around the pole on the stage with such ease and grace that Dean couldn’t take his eyes off him. The guy was quite tall and well built, but all of his movements were perfectly coordinated and incredibly smooth as he leaned his back to the pole and gently slid his hands over his sweat covered abs and chest, taking extra time to play with his nipples. Dean’s cock twitched in his pants as the guy on the stage threw his head back, exposing an incredibly long neck and moaned low. This guy was just hot, making every fiber in Dean’s body ache with the need to touch him, to mark him, to make him his own.
…It’s after midnight
Are you feelin’ alright oh yeah
Turn on the light, babe
Are you someone else tonight?
Neighbor to neighbor, door to door
Don’t ask questions, there’s time for it all oh yeah…
The young dancer turned his back to the crowd as he continued to move his hips in the rhythm of the music and slowly slipped off his leather pants.
Dean could have sworn his heart skipped a few beats as the smooth curves of the worlds most perfect ass first came into his view, and he decided that he most definitely needed to sit down before either his knees betrayed him or his erection became way too obvious. Dean dragged in a few heavy breaths, trying to get his brain functions to work again and quickly seated himself behind the closest table that was open.
God, he couldn’t understand what was wrong with him. He usually had very good control over his body; hell he’d spent a big part of childhood training to control his responses and body to the max, and now… now this kid came along and made him sweat and lust like a fucking horny teenager.
The guy on the stage was slipping himself up and down against the pole, his cock dragging against the smooth metal surface, and Dean couldn’t help but notice the rather gratuitous size of it.
Dean’s breaths were shallow and he had to press his hand hard against his crotch under the table to stop himself from coming inside his pants. The kid molesting the damn pole was just too damn wrong and yet sexy. God the way he looked with his dark bangs all mussed, cheeks flushed and eyelids fluttering shut as he ground himself against the shining metal…
Luckily for Dean the song finally ended and the young guy smiled, quickly picked up his scattered clothing and money from the stage and made his way to the back room.
The crowd was happily applauding and whistling after the performance and Dean used the free time before the next act to take off in the direction of the bar. He really, really needed a whiskey or a tequila shot or anything that burnt.
The barman, a young blonde haired guy named Manson, nodded to him, recognizing him from the previous visits and poured him a glass of whiskey.
Dean drowned it with one gulp and slammed it on the counter.
Manson sent him a curious look: “Everything ok, DD?”
Dean shook his head. Of course everything wasn’t okay. Not by far. He had seen this kid for only few minutes but something inside him had somehow already changed and he wasn’t really sure if it was a good or bad thing. Most likely both.
“This kid, “he started, nodding towards the empty stage over his shoulder. “Who is he?”
The barman smiled. “A-ha! Now I see what’s bothering you. That was Samuel, Sam to us. Boss just found him from some dump even worse than ours.”
“I’ve got to meet him!” Dean exclaimed and turned his flashing green eyes to the other man.
The barman’s face got more serious as he picked up a glass from the counter and started to polish it.
“Look man. I really wish I could help you but you know our politics - if he does only dancing and nothing else then we won’t force him.”
Dean blinked a few times. So this Samuel character was hard to get. Suited him just fine.
“I have the money and power to change that, and you know it,“ Dean said to the man across him, a stubborn set now to his jaw. He always got what he wanted. Always.
“DD,“ the barman quickly started, then paused for a moment and leaned closer to Dean to speak so no-one else would over hear them. “Look - maybe it’s better if you let this one go. You see Sam - he’s sick. And I really mean it - I saw him throw up just two hours ago and he’s taking some serious painkillers though he refuses to talk about it any further.”
Dean frowned a little at the news. Sam, sick?
Did it really matter? Sam had his flaws and Dean had his. That was just the way life worked.
His face finally lit up with a smile as he said, “Manson - I really really need you to introduce him to me.”
Manson sent him a thoughtful look before sighing and slightly rolling his eyes. “Ok. The things I do for good customers like you.”
Dean rose from his seat grinning and added, “And my family has got nothing to do with it?”
Manson shrugged his shoulder. “I’m not afraid of death or anything else your kind could bring upon me so I guess no. Not really.”
Dean smirked lightly and sent the man a long look but didn’t comment anything. He knew Manson was afraid of him, just like all of their kind was. That was just the way nature worked - demons were the predators and humans were their prey and they both sensed it. So, all brave faces aside, Dean knew he could always make them do what he wanted.
The bartender gestured for one of the waiters to come and take over the bar for a while and set off in the direction of the back room, searching the right one from the big ball of keys chained to his narrow hips.
He finally picked up two keys as they reached the door with a big “STAFF ONLY!! (get it you fuckers)” sign on it. Dean smirked as he imagined how many other guests had ever wanted to get through to the very same door and been ruthlessly rejected.
“Let’s see,“ Manson murmured under his breath and picked out one of the two keys, turned it in the lock and gave the door a slight push with his shoulder.
He stepped through the doorway first, Dean fallowing close behind and shutting it behind them. The room around them was a small, dressing-room like place with most of the dancers and some of the waiters hanging around, smoking, drinking or fucking, and certainly not paying any extra attention to Manson or Dean. The hot air was thick with the smell of sex and sweat as one of the couples was putting up a show against the wall for the others.
Dean was mesmerized by the way their bodies fit perfectly together as the taller guy fucked the shorter one up against the wall, roughly jerking him off at the same time and whispering something in his ear.
Manson had to tap Dean on the shoulder to get his attention. “Eyes here princess, or I’m gonna have to reconsider if you are worthy to meet with Sam. He’s a good kid you know.”
Dean took in the cold look in Manson’s ice blue eyes and the firm set of his jaw.
He knows I’m gonna hurt Sam. He mused to himself. And yet he brings me here because I have given him no other choice. He knows I’ll snap his neck or worse if he doesn’t. But yet he has the guts to stand up to me in this last effort. Yeah - I like him.
Manson nodded towards one of the doors that took forward from that room.
“There, “He said, taking the other key off his key-chain and handing it to Dean. Without looking him in the eye he murmured: “I hope you have some part in you left that can feel for the kid. He doesn’t really deserve what you’re about to do him so at least pay him good, alright?”
Dean nodded to him and walked towards the pointed door. His hands shook as he unlocked it and stepped inside.
He quickly took in the tiny room in front of him - just enough room for a bed, a small table, a cupboard and a big mirror. It had only one barbed window high on the back wall and the lights were turned down a bit so the room was dim.
And then he noticed Sam. He was sitting in front of the mirror, still naked and cleaning himself with a wet cloth. When Dean entered he turned towards him a bit, motioned for to him to shut the door and rose up to meet him.
God, is he tall! Dean thought as the guy was even a few inches taller than him standing straight in front of him. The next thing he noticed was how young Sam actually looked with that shy smile on his lips and deep green eyes peeking under long bangs.
“Hi, I don’t think we have met yet. You know - I just started working here and all, I’m Sam,” Sam introduced himself.
Dean was a bit surprised by such a warm welcome but then he understood why Sam trusted him - he had gotten through the staff only room and had the key to this place. Sam probably thought he worked here. That was a funny thought; Dean had never even imagined what it would be like to be a stripper before.
“Dean,” he finally responded, shaking himself out of the thoughts and shook Sam’s extended hand.
Sam’s big hand felt smooth but strong in his and Dean enjoyed the little connection of skin on skin. Sam finally pulled his hand back and smiled: “So… Dean. Was there something you wanted with me?”
Dean couldn’t help the smirk. What he wanted? Yeah - now that was a really long subject, but it definitely included fucking this perfect body in front of him into the mattress.
But then he looked at the kid in front of him, looking exactly like a puppy dog, and a part of him really wanted to take it slow and easy. Do this right.
So he just smiled and said: “I liked your dance. A lot.”
Dean wouldn’t have expected that a guy Sam’s size, standing butt-naked in front of a stranger, would be able to blush over a compliment, but this guy did, before hanging his head and shyly smiling.
“Thank you,” he whispered to Dean and before the older man could react, Sam had already wrapped himself around him and was hugging him. Hugging Dean fucking Winchester for Christ’s sake!
And what was even worse was that Sam whispered against his ear, misery obvious in his voice, “Everybody has always told me I suck at dancing and I kinda know I do too. So you really don’t have to say you liked it if you didn’t.”
Dean was sure he looked as surprised as he felt. How could have anyone told this beautiful and graceful creature that he “sucked at dancing”?! Dean felt hate starting to coil inside his stomach as he protectively wrapped his hands around Sam.
“No - I wasn’t lying. I really think you looked amazing. But you need to tell me who those bastards where. I think I would like to have a word with them,” he said, pressing his lips against Sam’s cheek and petting his back.
And maybe rip their throat out, he added in his thoughts, god knows they deserve that for giving the kid such a low self-esteem. The fuckers, who do they think they were?!
“The last place I worked at, the FF. You know, there were always just some anonymous customers who used the chance to say something bad to me or other young dancers,” Sam quietly explained, melting his body into Dean’s touches.
God, this was something really new to Dean. He had never had anybody be so trusting and open with him, obviously enjoying his presence. It made him feel strange and somehow responsible. And he knew there was no way he could hurt Sam. The kid was obviously having self-esteem issues and probably already seen way too much for his young life. Which made Dean wonder…
“Just exactly how old are you?” He asked pulling back a bit to look Sam in the eye.
Sam’s pose and expression instantly changed as he stepped out of the small space they had been sharing. He pursed his lips and said, “Old enough.”
Dean raised a suspicious eyebrow. That was the answer that was only ever given when the answerer wasn’t old enough. Okay - so tactics it was.
“Look - it’s okay. I’m not gonna rat you out if you’re worried about that. I was just being curious, that’s all.”
Sam still looked a bit skeptic before he sighed and said, “Almost seventeen.”
Dean’s jaw almost dropped open. He would have guessed a few months short of eighteen, but that young?
Sam probably felt like explaining further because he added, “My dad was a real bastard. He left me when I was ten and one of his friends raised me for a while. I came to the Babel when I was fifteen.”
Dean didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t really imagine how a fifteen year old human could have survived in this cruel city.
So he just took a step forward to Sam, grabbed his head in his hands and kissed him, putting all of his emotions in that one action. The younger man was surprised at first but then he parted his lips to give Dean’s tongue access and even nibbled at his bottom lip, letting out a low moan in the back of his throat. Dean had serious trouble restraining himself not to just take what he wanted. Maybe Sam wouldn’t even fight him much. Maybe.
Oh yes, but he will - once he realizes what you are. A taunting voice inside his head whispered.
Dean pulled back, shaking his head. “Stop, Sammy. Just stop. You’re making it hard for me to control myself.”
Sam huffed and smiled. “I don’t want you to control yourself.”
Dean bitterly smiled. “Oh, yes you do Sammy.”
Sam almost jumped in obvious mixture of surprise and fear as Dean’s hazel eyes turned into pitch black pools of emptiness.
“Thought so,“ the demon whispered to himself.
TBC.
Go to part two.
Pairing: Demon!Dean/Sam
Warnings: AU, post apocalypse fic, dark themes(Thou the first chapter is till quite..err..nice compared to what I have in mind for the future.), Sam is 16, Dean is 20, stripper!sam, demon!dean
Disclaimer: I do not own the boys, I just took them out to play.
Word Count:3031
Summary: This is an AU in which the apocalypse has already happened and brothers Winchesters have been separated during it, 16 years later they meet up again, not knowing they are brothers. Dean has been turned into a demon and Sam is working as a stripper at a gay club.
Background: The apocalypse went down and the world changed when half of the Erath's population was killed and Demons lead by Lucifer took the power on Earth into their own hands. The heavenly forces where forced to make peace with them and the humans who survived the war started to rebuilt the society, this time with Demons at the top of the foodchain.
Author's Note: X-posted to slashingdean.com archive and in various LJ coms. Title borrowed from Disturbed's song "Haunted". My awesome quick-as-hell beta was
sulfuricfusion
Story written for (and inspired by)
hydraheiress who has stolen my little black heart -- hope you like this hon. :)
Next chapter up at here.
You're broken, so am I
Chapter I
Dean didn’t really like the market. Yeah, it was the one place he could get everything he needed, but he still disliked the noise and overflowing crowds of the place, combined with the smell of filth and rotten food.
“Where to, sir?”
The voice of one of his bodyguards pulled Dean out of his thoughts and he quickly straightened his face, saying, “I need something new to play with.”
“Yes sir.” The head of his bodyguards confirmed his understanding and they set off towards the north-west side of the market, unofficially called the slave street, not to say that it only contained slave markets. No, it also had a surprising amount of bordellos, saunas, special shops and just all type of entertainment facilities one might need.
Dean knew this part of the market like his back pocket, as he came here often to find some new staff, or just for a quick fuck. He paid no attention to the overweight men eagerly inviting everyone to check their fine merchandise at the beginning of the street. Dean knew slaves well. Hell - all six young men standing around him and all the other servants in the palace were slaves. Yes, they were good for dirty, hard or boring tasks; but that was just about it. They had no free will, no ambition, no guts - hell, they didn’t even have a personality. And that was not what Dean was looking for in his bed. He liked the ones who tried to fight him, the ones who could so deliciously break, and most especially the ones who had the brains to be afraid of him.
“Wait outside,” he ordered over his shoulder to his accompaniment as he entered a door to his left. The sign over it announced “Hydra”-it was one of the not too fancy gay clubs, but Dean had been to the joint before and knew they had some pretty decent dancers on Friday evenings. Some strip sounded like a good idea as a relaxing start for his evening before getting into more serious businesses.
Long dark stairs took him down to the cellar, where he could hear the loud music pumping and see soft lights glowing. Dean ran a hand through his hair, making the stubborn strands stand in every direction and mentally checked himself out. His favorite leather jacket, green T-shirt and jeans looked innocent enough not to be noticed right away. He didn’t want that. No, tonight he wanted to be like everyone else for a little while. Even if he really wasn’t. Even if he wasn’t even a human like they were.
He paused for a moment as he stepped through the open doorway and reached the big bar room. It was already crowded and the air was thick with cigarette smoke and smell of booze. But the thing that really caught Dean’s attention was the song playing; it was Billy Idol’s “Flesh for Fantasy.” He would have never in a million years expected to hear any classic rock tune playing in a place like this. He smiled as he made his way towards the stage to see who was dancing to the song.
…Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy…
The first chorus had just begun as Dean stopped dead in his tracks. He just stared at the young man moving around the pole on the stage with such ease and grace that Dean couldn’t take his eyes off him. The guy was quite tall and well built, but all of his movements were perfectly coordinated and incredibly smooth as he leaned his back to the pole and gently slid his hands over his sweat covered abs and chest, taking extra time to play with his nipples. Dean’s cock twitched in his pants as the guy on the stage threw his head back, exposing an incredibly long neck and moaned low. This guy was just hot, making every fiber in Dean’s body ache with the need to touch him, to mark him, to make him his own.
…It’s after midnight
Are you feelin’ alright oh yeah
Turn on the light, babe
Are you someone else tonight?
Neighbor to neighbor, door to door
Don’t ask questions, there’s time for it all oh yeah…
The young dancer turned his back to the crowd as he continued to move his hips in the rhythm of the music and slowly slipped off his leather pants.
Dean could have sworn his heart skipped a few beats as the smooth curves of the worlds most perfect ass first came into his view, and he decided that he most definitely needed to sit down before either his knees betrayed him or his erection became way too obvious. Dean dragged in a few heavy breaths, trying to get his brain functions to work again and quickly seated himself behind the closest table that was open.
God, he couldn’t understand what was wrong with him. He usually had very good control over his body; hell he’d spent a big part of childhood training to control his responses and body to the max, and now… now this kid came along and made him sweat and lust like a fucking horny teenager.
The guy on the stage was slipping himself up and down against the pole, his cock dragging against the smooth metal surface, and Dean couldn’t help but notice the rather gratuitous size of it.
Dean’s breaths were shallow and he had to press his hand hard against his crotch under the table to stop himself from coming inside his pants. The kid molesting the damn pole was just too damn wrong and yet sexy. God the way he looked with his dark bangs all mussed, cheeks flushed and eyelids fluttering shut as he ground himself against the shining metal…
Luckily for Dean the song finally ended and the young guy smiled, quickly picked up his scattered clothing and money from the stage and made his way to the back room.
The crowd was happily applauding and whistling after the performance and Dean used the free time before the next act to take off in the direction of the bar. He really, really needed a whiskey or a tequila shot or anything that burnt.
The barman, a young blonde haired guy named Manson, nodded to him, recognizing him from the previous visits and poured him a glass of whiskey.
Dean drowned it with one gulp and slammed it on the counter.
Manson sent him a curious look: “Everything ok, DD?”
Dean shook his head. Of course everything wasn’t okay. Not by far. He had seen this kid for only few minutes but something inside him had somehow already changed and he wasn’t really sure if it was a good or bad thing. Most likely both.
“This kid, “he started, nodding towards the empty stage over his shoulder. “Who is he?”
The barman smiled. “A-ha! Now I see what’s bothering you. That was Samuel, Sam to us. Boss just found him from some dump even worse than ours.”
“I’ve got to meet him!” Dean exclaimed and turned his flashing green eyes to the other man.
The barman’s face got more serious as he picked up a glass from the counter and started to polish it.
“Look man. I really wish I could help you but you know our politics - if he does only dancing and nothing else then we won’t force him.”
Dean blinked a few times. So this Samuel character was hard to get. Suited him just fine.
“I have the money and power to change that, and you know it,“ Dean said to the man across him, a stubborn set now to his jaw. He always got what he wanted. Always.
“DD,“ the barman quickly started, then paused for a moment and leaned closer to Dean to speak so no-one else would over hear them. “Look - maybe it’s better if you let this one go. You see Sam - he’s sick. And I really mean it - I saw him throw up just two hours ago and he’s taking some serious painkillers though he refuses to talk about it any further.”
Dean frowned a little at the news. Sam, sick?
Did it really matter? Sam had his flaws and Dean had his. That was just the way life worked.
His face finally lit up with a smile as he said, “Manson - I really really need you to introduce him to me.”
Manson sent him a thoughtful look before sighing and slightly rolling his eyes. “Ok. The things I do for good customers like you.”
Dean rose from his seat grinning and added, “And my family has got nothing to do with it?”
Manson shrugged his shoulder. “I’m not afraid of death or anything else your kind could bring upon me so I guess no. Not really.”
Dean smirked lightly and sent the man a long look but didn’t comment anything. He knew Manson was afraid of him, just like all of their kind was. That was just the way nature worked - demons were the predators and humans were their prey and they both sensed it. So, all brave faces aside, Dean knew he could always make them do what he wanted.
The bartender gestured for one of the waiters to come and take over the bar for a while and set off in the direction of the back room, searching the right one from the big ball of keys chained to his narrow hips.
He finally picked up two keys as they reached the door with a big “STAFF ONLY!! (get it you fuckers)” sign on it. Dean smirked as he imagined how many other guests had ever wanted to get through to the very same door and been ruthlessly rejected.
“Let’s see,“ Manson murmured under his breath and picked out one of the two keys, turned it in the lock and gave the door a slight push with his shoulder.
He stepped through the doorway first, Dean fallowing close behind and shutting it behind them. The room around them was a small, dressing-room like place with most of the dancers and some of the waiters hanging around, smoking, drinking or fucking, and certainly not paying any extra attention to Manson or Dean. The hot air was thick with the smell of sex and sweat as one of the couples was putting up a show against the wall for the others.
Dean was mesmerized by the way their bodies fit perfectly together as the taller guy fucked the shorter one up against the wall, roughly jerking him off at the same time and whispering something in his ear.
Manson had to tap Dean on the shoulder to get his attention. “Eyes here princess, or I’m gonna have to reconsider if you are worthy to meet with Sam. He’s a good kid you know.”
Dean took in the cold look in Manson’s ice blue eyes and the firm set of his jaw.
He knows I’m gonna hurt Sam. He mused to himself. And yet he brings me here because I have given him no other choice. He knows I’ll snap his neck or worse if he doesn’t. But yet he has the guts to stand up to me in this last effort. Yeah - I like him.
Manson nodded towards one of the doors that took forward from that room.
“There, “He said, taking the other key off his key-chain and handing it to Dean. Without looking him in the eye he murmured: “I hope you have some part in you left that can feel for the kid. He doesn’t really deserve what you’re about to do him so at least pay him good, alright?”
Dean nodded to him and walked towards the pointed door. His hands shook as he unlocked it and stepped inside.
He quickly took in the tiny room in front of him - just enough room for a bed, a small table, a cupboard and a big mirror. It had only one barbed window high on the back wall and the lights were turned down a bit so the room was dim.
And then he noticed Sam. He was sitting in front of the mirror, still naked and cleaning himself with a wet cloth. When Dean entered he turned towards him a bit, motioned for to him to shut the door and rose up to meet him.
God, is he tall! Dean thought as the guy was even a few inches taller than him standing straight in front of him. The next thing he noticed was how young Sam actually looked with that shy smile on his lips and deep green eyes peeking under long bangs.
“Hi, I don’t think we have met yet. You know - I just started working here and all, I’m Sam,” Sam introduced himself.
Dean was a bit surprised by such a warm welcome but then he understood why Sam trusted him - he had gotten through the staff only room and had the key to this place. Sam probably thought he worked here. That was a funny thought; Dean had never even imagined what it would be like to be a stripper before.
“Dean,” he finally responded, shaking himself out of the thoughts and shook Sam’s extended hand.
Sam’s big hand felt smooth but strong in his and Dean enjoyed the little connection of skin on skin. Sam finally pulled his hand back and smiled: “So… Dean. Was there something you wanted with me?”
Dean couldn’t help the smirk. What he wanted? Yeah - now that was a really long subject, but it definitely included fucking this perfect body in front of him into the mattress.
But then he looked at the kid in front of him, looking exactly like a puppy dog, and a part of him really wanted to take it slow and easy. Do this right.
So he just smiled and said: “I liked your dance. A lot.”
Dean wouldn’t have expected that a guy Sam’s size, standing butt-naked in front of a stranger, would be able to blush over a compliment, but this guy did, before hanging his head and shyly smiling.
“Thank you,” he whispered to Dean and before the older man could react, Sam had already wrapped himself around him and was hugging him. Hugging Dean fucking Winchester for Christ’s sake!
And what was even worse was that Sam whispered against his ear, misery obvious in his voice, “Everybody has always told me I suck at dancing and I kinda know I do too. So you really don’t have to say you liked it if you didn’t.”
Dean was sure he looked as surprised as he felt. How could have anyone told this beautiful and graceful creature that he “sucked at dancing”?! Dean felt hate starting to coil inside his stomach as he protectively wrapped his hands around Sam.
“No - I wasn’t lying. I really think you looked amazing. But you need to tell me who those bastards where. I think I would like to have a word with them,” he said, pressing his lips against Sam’s cheek and petting his back.
And maybe rip their throat out, he added in his thoughts, god knows they deserve that for giving the kid such a low self-esteem. The fuckers, who do they think they were?!
“The last place I worked at, the FF. You know, there were always just some anonymous customers who used the chance to say something bad to me or other young dancers,” Sam quietly explained, melting his body into Dean’s touches.
God, this was something really new to Dean. He had never had anybody be so trusting and open with him, obviously enjoying his presence. It made him feel strange and somehow responsible. And he knew there was no way he could hurt Sam. The kid was obviously having self-esteem issues and probably already seen way too much for his young life. Which made Dean wonder…
“Just exactly how old are you?” He asked pulling back a bit to look Sam in the eye.
Sam’s pose and expression instantly changed as he stepped out of the small space they had been sharing. He pursed his lips and said, “Old enough.”
Dean raised a suspicious eyebrow. That was the answer that was only ever given when the answerer wasn’t old enough. Okay - so tactics it was.
“Look - it’s okay. I’m not gonna rat you out if you’re worried about that. I was just being curious, that’s all.”
Sam still looked a bit skeptic before he sighed and said, “Almost seventeen.”
Dean’s jaw almost dropped open. He would have guessed a few months short of eighteen, but that young?
Sam probably felt like explaining further because he added, “My dad was a real bastard. He left me when I was ten and one of his friends raised me for a while. I came to the Babel when I was fifteen.”
Dean didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t really imagine how a fifteen year old human could have survived in this cruel city.
So he just took a step forward to Sam, grabbed his head in his hands and kissed him, putting all of his emotions in that one action. The younger man was surprised at first but then he parted his lips to give Dean’s tongue access and even nibbled at his bottom lip, letting out a low moan in the back of his throat. Dean had serious trouble restraining himself not to just take what he wanted. Maybe Sam wouldn’t even fight him much. Maybe.
Oh yes, but he will - once he realizes what you are. A taunting voice inside his head whispered.
Dean pulled back, shaking his head. “Stop, Sammy. Just stop. You’re making it hard for me to control myself.”
Sam huffed and smiled. “I don’t want you to control yourself.”
Dean bitterly smiled. “Oh, yes you do Sammy.”
Sam almost jumped in obvious mixture of surprise and fear as Dean’s hazel eyes turned into pitch black pools of emptiness.
“Thought so,“ the demon whispered to himself.
TBC.
Go to part two.