Fic: SPN (?/Dean): I Don't Need Your Consent
Title: I Don't Need Your Consent
Author: dragonspell
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: ?/Dean. (The pairing is pathetically easy to guess, but I think the fic plays better without me coming out and saying it. So.)
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Non-con and spoilers for Sammy developments in season 5.
Summary: "I don't need your consent." Kind of how I wished 5.04 had turned out...
Word Count: 700
“No…” Dean whispers and pushes against the hard body leaning over him. He’s been screaming that word over and over and now his voice is broken, shattered. “No no no!” he rasps. He jerks his head to the side in frustration, unable to get leverage to do much else. The body above him is unmovable, the hands pining him down are gentle but firm. He thrashes on the silk sheets, pushing into the soft pillows as he tries to escape. It figures that the nicest damn room available would be chosen for something like this.
Even though the world outside is broken, the hotel room is immaculate with cushy furniture and expensive lamps and high thread count blankets. But that’s not the worst. The worst is the achingly familiar eyes smiling down at him and a lying mouth promising that everything’s going to be okay. Dean closes his eyes and prays to be back in Hell: they didn’t pretend so much. They didn't make it nice and gentle and pretend that he might want it.
Soft lips press against his throat in a mockery of a kiss and Dean squirms away. “No!” he tries again. He’ll never stop saying no. Always no. It’s pathetic how easily he’s being controlled-how easily he's been striped and readied to be claimed-but he’s still saying no. He still has that. “No!” Dean swings at the face smiling down at him.
His arm is effortlessly caught and held by a supernaturally strong grip as it’s brought to lips and a tongue licks over the pulse point. “Shh…”
Dean forces tears back down-he’s NOT going to cry-but only gets an understanding grin for his trouble. He can’t hide anything-not from him. “You can cry if you want, Dean. It might make you feel better.”
“Fuck you!” A tear slips down Dean’s cheek and his buries the side of his face against the plush pillow. “Fuck you…”
Large hands roam over Dean’s body, petting him, stroking him. The body above comes down more firmly on top of Dean, settling between Dean’s legs and spreading and pining him open. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. “It’s okay.” The words whisper into his ear, soft breaths panting against his skin. The Hell it is. “You’ll feel better when we’re done, I promise.”
“You sick bastard!” Dean roars, voice cracking in the middle of it. “Get the fuck off me!”
He gets a head shake. “I can’t Dean. I’m sorry.” Lips kiss his temple in apology and Dean tries to push them away but finds that his arms won’t move. “It’ll be better this way,” he says, placing both of Dean’s hands above his head. “You won’t get hurt this way.”
Dean chokes back a sob and feels his thighs being lifted even as he’s told in that achingly familiar voice that “It’ll be okay” and “Just relax for me.” This can’t be happening, Dean repeats in his head. It can’t. “But it is, Dean. It’s real.”
Dean wishes it was pain shooting up his spine when he’s violated but instead it’s pure pleasure. “Bastard…” he grinds out.
“It feels good, Dean,” Sam’s voice tells him. “It feels good, just like I told you it would.” Sam’s soft, brown eyes smiling down at him and his hips begin to thrust. Dean gasps as Sam’s cock drives in an out of him, pleasure sparking through him as his body’s reactions are rearranged.
He should have been stronger. He should have tried harder. He failed and now Sam is-now Sam is-
“It wasn’t your fault, Dean,” the creature tells him. “It was always going to be like this. Always. Just. Like. This.” A hand gently traces down Dean’s throat as Sam’s lips kiss Dean’s collarbone.
Sam’s other hand slides between their naked bodies to fondle Dean’s cock and Dean feels his unwanted orgasm start to overwhelm him. “NO!” Dean screams in useless defiance and the creature turns his face to nuzzle under Dean’s jaw.
“Dean,” Lucifer says. “I’m sorry. I don’t need your consent for this.”
And Dean cries for real. Because he knows just how much he wants to say yes.
Author: dragonspell
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: ?/Dean. (The pairing is pathetically easy to guess, but I think the fic plays better without me coming out and saying it. So.)
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Non-con and spoilers for Sammy developments in season 5.
Summary: "I don't need your consent." Kind of how I wished 5.04 had turned out...
Word Count: 700
“No…” Dean whispers and pushes against the hard body leaning over him. He’s been screaming that word over and over and now his voice is broken, shattered. “No no no!” he rasps. He jerks his head to the side in frustration, unable to get leverage to do much else. The body above him is unmovable, the hands pining him down are gentle but firm. He thrashes on the silk sheets, pushing into the soft pillows as he tries to escape. It figures that the nicest damn room available would be chosen for something like this.
Even though the world outside is broken, the hotel room is immaculate with cushy furniture and expensive lamps and high thread count blankets. But that’s not the worst. The worst is the achingly familiar eyes smiling down at him and a lying mouth promising that everything’s going to be okay. Dean closes his eyes and prays to be back in Hell: they didn’t pretend so much. They didn't make it nice and gentle and pretend that he might want it.
Soft lips press against his throat in a mockery of a kiss and Dean squirms away. “No!” he tries again. He’ll never stop saying no. Always no. It’s pathetic how easily he’s being controlled-how easily he's been striped and readied to be claimed-but he’s still saying no. He still has that. “No!” Dean swings at the face smiling down at him.
His arm is effortlessly caught and held by a supernaturally strong grip as it’s brought to lips and a tongue licks over the pulse point. “Shh…”
Dean forces tears back down-he’s NOT going to cry-but only gets an understanding grin for his trouble. He can’t hide anything-not from him. “You can cry if you want, Dean. It might make you feel better.”
“Fuck you!” A tear slips down Dean’s cheek and his buries the side of his face against the plush pillow. “Fuck you…”
Large hands roam over Dean’s body, petting him, stroking him. The body above comes down more firmly on top of Dean, settling between Dean’s legs and spreading and pining him open. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. “It’s okay.” The words whisper into his ear, soft breaths panting against his skin. The Hell it is. “You’ll feel better when we’re done, I promise.”
“You sick bastard!” Dean roars, voice cracking in the middle of it. “Get the fuck off me!”
He gets a head shake. “I can’t Dean. I’m sorry.” Lips kiss his temple in apology and Dean tries to push them away but finds that his arms won’t move. “It’ll be better this way,” he says, placing both of Dean’s hands above his head. “You won’t get hurt this way.”
Dean chokes back a sob and feels his thighs being lifted even as he’s told in that achingly familiar voice that “It’ll be okay” and “Just relax for me.” This can’t be happening, Dean repeats in his head. It can’t. “But it is, Dean. It’s real.”
Dean wishes it was pain shooting up his spine when he’s violated but instead it’s pure pleasure. “Bastard…” he grinds out.
“It feels good, Dean,” Sam’s voice tells him. “It feels good, just like I told you it would.” Sam’s soft, brown eyes smiling down at him and his hips begin to thrust. Dean gasps as Sam’s cock drives in an out of him, pleasure sparking through him as his body’s reactions are rearranged.
He should have been stronger. He should have tried harder. He failed and now Sam is-now Sam is-
“It wasn’t your fault, Dean,” the creature tells him. “It was always going to be like this. Always. Just. Like. This.” A hand gently traces down Dean’s throat as Sam’s lips kiss Dean’s collarbone.
Sam’s other hand slides between their naked bodies to fondle Dean’s cock and Dean feels his unwanted orgasm start to overwhelm him. “NO!” Dean screams in useless defiance and the creature turns his face to nuzzle under Dean’s jaw.
“Dean,” Lucifer says. “I’m sorry. I don’t need your consent for this.”
And Dean cries for real. Because he knows just how much he wants to say yes.