Fic: Embracing Evil
Title: Embracing Evil
Author: Heavenli24
Pairings/Couples/Category: Dean W.
Rating: Adult
Word Count: ~1,350
Warnings: Language, violence, sexual situations
Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me and no infringement is intended
Summary: Life as a demon has never been so good.
Author’s Notes Sort-of spoilers for S10… inspired by Jensen’s comments regarding Demon!Dean at Comic Con 2014. This is unbeta'd so apologies for any mistakes.
***
It’s euphoric, like nothing he’s ever felt before. For the first time ever, he has no cares, no worries, no burdens. He’s free. Free from remorse, free from guilt, free from responsibility, free from doing the right thing, free from Sam.
He’s just free.
And he makes the most of it. Does everything he’s always wanted to. Everything he always had a secret desire to do, but forced himself not to, told himself it was wrong, unjust, inhuman. But he’s not human now, not anymore… never again. So it doesn’t matter. He can do whatever the fuck he likes and who gives a damn about the consequences? He certainly doesn’t. And he doesn’t really give a shit if anyone else does either.
He’s having the fucking time of his life.
On Monday he goes to a bar, fucks a waitress in the tiny, grimy bathroom… just because he can. Because he’s feeling great; because there’re no ties to hold him down, no weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s great. Nothing more than an exhilarating release and much needed burning of energy. Okay, so maybe he's a little rough; maybe he hurts her just a tiny bit, maybe he could reign it in a little… but she likes it and, well, that’s what human Dean would have done; you know, tried to make it all special and intimate, even in a cramped, dirty bathroom, and he has no desire to be that pansy-assed idjit ever again.
Turns out the quick, hot fuck doesn’t give him the release he thought he needed. He still has pent-up energy and a shitload of frustration to get out. So, on Tuesday he beats up a guy; beats him so hard he kills him. Just because. Well, okay, not entirely ‘just because’… ’cos guy’s possessed by a demon, one who just edges too far into cocky, one who thinks he knows his shit, thinks he knows Dean’s shit too. He has it coming. But really, that’s just an excuse. He beats up the guy because he wants to, even after the poor excuse for a demon’s smoked out, because he’s not a pussy-whipped human anymore, he doesn’t need to save people, doesn’t care about them in the slightest. He kills the guy because it’s fun.
It brings back the memories of hell, of torture and pain and twisted pleasure, and he realises he’s finally become what he was destined to be all those years ago, what he would have become had Castiel not dragged him out of the pit kicking and screaming. And he’s glad for it; this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Just a shame it’s taken so fuckin’ long.
Being a demon is fucking awesome. He’s never felt this strong or powerful… ever. It’s like a drug; he never wants to be rid of the arousing, exhilarating feeling it gives him. He thinks at least part of it is due to the Mark, because of Cain and the First Blade, but he’s not sure how much. He just knows he’s fucking powerful, more powerful than a regular demon, knows that he’s special, that he’s above the law, that this is what he’s meant to be.
He does the same thing on Wednesday, although this time, the guy who bears the brunt of his frustration is spared. Not by choice, though; it’s because Dean is fucking interrupted before he can finish it. Some fledgling hunter appears, thinks he can take him on.
Please. He’s a Winchester; he’s Dean Winchester, for fuck’s sake, and he’s a goddamn demon. He’s more than a demon. But seems this poor newbie hunter just hasn’t got the memo.
He abandons the guy on the side of the road, leaves him beaten and bloody and begging for help as he approaches the hunter, snarl on his face, black eyes flashing in challenge. He taunts the kid, freaks him out to all hell; lets him get in a couple of punches and a splash of holy water, which only stings a little, before he gets his own punches in. He tosses him to the ground, holds a knife to his throat and growls a warning message in the guy’s ear. He’s gone before the poor hunter can even make sense of what just happened.
Thursday is more of the same. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this life now that he’s had a taste. Beating, fighting, killing, fucking; it’s a hell of a workout and perfect for venting his building anger and derision towards the human race. When he’s done with the killing for the day, he finds another girl to lose himself in; in fact, he finds two. Two gorgeous, willing women-one blonde, one redhead-who are up for anything, for whom he doesn’t have to do more than flash a suggestive grin their way and they’re putty in his hands.
In the dark recesses of a plush hotel room, he instructs the redhead to sit in the large armchair in the corner, makes her watch as he fucks her friend, tells her to touch herself as he does so. As he fucks the blonde, he drives a fine line between pleasure and pain until the girl beneath him is grabbing at him, gasping and pleading for more. As she convulses and pulses around him, he turns his gaze to the one in the chair, licks his lips greedily as he watches her get herself off, legs spread for him, his eyes involuntarily turning to black pools at the sight. She’s biting her lip, hooded gaze fixed on his, unfazed by the demon, as she gasps and writhes in the chair. He comes right when she does, still watching her.
He pulls out of the pretty blonde thing and beckons for the redhead to join them, instructs her to get up on the bed, makes them pleasure each other. He sits back and watches until he’s so fired up he can’t take it anymore. He grabs the redhead’s hips and takes her from behind, growling commands at them as they grind and writhe together in time with his thrusts.
They go a couple more rounds, until the girls are spent, exhausted, laid out on either side of him, but Dean’s not even tired yet. No one told him demons had this much stamina. If he’d realised, he would have given in, got himself turned, years ago, instead of sitting around all depressed, drowning his sorrows in booze and fruitlessly trying to save the world.
Saving people? Hunting things? Aw, fuck that.
He slides out of the bed and pulls his clothes on, licking his lips once again at the sight of the naked girls now tangled together in the sheets. Old Dean, human Dean hadn’t had a threesome in years. He’d gone soft, what with all the angst and the pain and the guilt. He pretended he wanted that pathetic ‘apple pie life’ with Lisa, pretended he wanted to settle down with a makeshift wife and kid. It was all a lie, just something he told himself to make him feel better, make him feel like a good person, like he deserved it.
But he wasn’t. He didn’t.
Demon’s always been his destiny, evil’s always been in his future, and now that he is, now that has it, he’s not going to change it for the world.
Leaving the hotel room, he heads for the Impala, now dented along the side due to an incident with a wayward pedestrian and an out of control motorcycle last week. The phone in his jacket pocket rings. Damnit. He should have got rid of the fuckin’ thing weeks ago. Doesn’t know why he hasn’t yet. He fishes it out of his pocket. It’s Sam. Again. Kid’s left a dozen messages in the last week, and still doesn’t seem to get that it’s a waste of time. He’s not gonna answer.
“Sorry, Sammy. Dean’s gone.” He snarls, tosses the phone to the floor and smashes it under his boot as he opens the car door and slides inside. “An’ he ain’t never comin’ back.”
End
Author: Heavenli24
Pairings/Couples/Category: Dean W.
Rating: Adult
Word Count: ~1,350
Warnings: Language, violence, sexual situations
Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me and no infringement is intended
Summary: Life as a demon has never been so good.
Author’s Notes Sort-of spoilers for S10… inspired by Jensen’s comments regarding Demon!Dean at Comic Con 2014. This is unbeta'd so apologies for any mistakes.
***
It’s euphoric, like nothing he’s ever felt before. For the first time ever, he has no cares, no worries, no burdens. He’s free. Free from remorse, free from guilt, free from responsibility, free from doing the right thing, free from Sam.
He’s just free.
And he makes the most of it. Does everything he’s always wanted to. Everything he always had a secret desire to do, but forced himself not to, told himself it was wrong, unjust, inhuman. But he’s not human now, not anymore… never again. So it doesn’t matter. He can do whatever the fuck he likes and who gives a damn about the consequences? He certainly doesn’t. And he doesn’t really give a shit if anyone else does either.
He’s having the fucking time of his life.
On Monday he goes to a bar, fucks a waitress in the tiny, grimy bathroom… just because he can. Because he’s feeling great; because there’re no ties to hold him down, no weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s great. Nothing more than an exhilarating release and much needed burning of energy. Okay, so maybe he's a little rough; maybe he hurts her just a tiny bit, maybe he could reign it in a little… but she likes it and, well, that’s what human Dean would have done; you know, tried to make it all special and intimate, even in a cramped, dirty bathroom, and he has no desire to be that pansy-assed idjit ever again.
Turns out the quick, hot fuck doesn’t give him the release he thought he needed. He still has pent-up energy and a shitload of frustration to get out. So, on Tuesday he beats up a guy; beats him so hard he kills him. Just because. Well, okay, not entirely ‘just because’… ’cos guy’s possessed by a demon, one who just edges too far into cocky, one who thinks he knows his shit, thinks he knows Dean’s shit too. He has it coming. But really, that’s just an excuse. He beats up the guy because he wants to, even after the poor excuse for a demon’s smoked out, because he’s not a pussy-whipped human anymore, he doesn’t need to save people, doesn’t care about them in the slightest. He kills the guy because it’s fun.
It brings back the memories of hell, of torture and pain and twisted pleasure, and he realises he’s finally become what he was destined to be all those years ago, what he would have become had Castiel not dragged him out of the pit kicking and screaming. And he’s glad for it; this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Just a shame it’s taken so fuckin’ long.
Being a demon is fucking awesome. He’s never felt this strong or powerful… ever. It’s like a drug; he never wants to be rid of the arousing, exhilarating feeling it gives him. He thinks at least part of it is due to the Mark, because of Cain and the First Blade, but he’s not sure how much. He just knows he’s fucking powerful, more powerful than a regular demon, knows that he’s special, that he’s above the law, that this is what he’s meant to be.
He does the same thing on Wednesday, although this time, the guy who bears the brunt of his frustration is spared. Not by choice, though; it’s because Dean is fucking interrupted before he can finish it. Some fledgling hunter appears, thinks he can take him on.
Please. He’s a Winchester; he’s Dean Winchester, for fuck’s sake, and he’s a goddamn demon. He’s more than a demon. But seems this poor newbie hunter just hasn’t got the memo.
He abandons the guy on the side of the road, leaves him beaten and bloody and begging for help as he approaches the hunter, snarl on his face, black eyes flashing in challenge. He taunts the kid, freaks him out to all hell; lets him get in a couple of punches and a splash of holy water, which only stings a little, before he gets his own punches in. He tosses him to the ground, holds a knife to his throat and growls a warning message in the guy’s ear. He’s gone before the poor hunter can even make sense of what just happened.
Thursday is more of the same. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this life now that he’s had a taste. Beating, fighting, killing, fucking; it’s a hell of a workout and perfect for venting his building anger and derision towards the human race. When he’s done with the killing for the day, he finds another girl to lose himself in; in fact, he finds two. Two gorgeous, willing women-one blonde, one redhead-who are up for anything, for whom he doesn’t have to do more than flash a suggestive grin their way and they’re putty in his hands.
In the dark recesses of a plush hotel room, he instructs the redhead to sit in the large armchair in the corner, makes her watch as he fucks her friend, tells her to touch herself as he does so. As he fucks the blonde, he drives a fine line between pleasure and pain until the girl beneath him is grabbing at him, gasping and pleading for more. As she convulses and pulses around him, he turns his gaze to the one in the chair, licks his lips greedily as he watches her get herself off, legs spread for him, his eyes involuntarily turning to black pools at the sight. She’s biting her lip, hooded gaze fixed on his, unfazed by the demon, as she gasps and writhes in the chair. He comes right when she does, still watching her.
He pulls out of the pretty blonde thing and beckons for the redhead to join them, instructs her to get up on the bed, makes them pleasure each other. He sits back and watches until he’s so fired up he can’t take it anymore. He grabs the redhead’s hips and takes her from behind, growling commands at them as they grind and writhe together in time with his thrusts.
They go a couple more rounds, until the girls are spent, exhausted, laid out on either side of him, but Dean’s not even tired yet. No one told him demons had this much stamina. If he’d realised, he would have given in, got himself turned, years ago, instead of sitting around all depressed, drowning his sorrows in booze and fruitlessly trying to save the world.
Saving people? Hunting things? Aw, fuck that.
He slides out of the bed and pulls his clothes on, licking his lips once again at the sight of the naked girls now tangled together in the sheets. Old Dean, human Dean hadn’t had a threesome in years. He’d gone soft, what with all the angst and the pain and the guilt. He pretended he wanted that pathetic ‘apple pie life’ with Lisa, pretended he wanted to settle down with a makeshift wife and kid. It was all a lie, just something he told himself to make him feel better, make him feel like a good person, like he deserved it.
But he wasn’t. He didn’t.
Demon’s always been his destiny, evil’s always been in his future, and now that he is, now that has it, he’s not going to change it for the world.
Leaving the hotel room, he heads for the Impala, now dented along the side due to an incident with a wayward pedestrian and an out of control motorcycle last week. The phone in his jacket pocket rings. Damnit. He should have got rid of the fuckin’ thing weeks ago. Doesn’t know why he hasn’t yet. He fishes it out of his pocket. It’s Sam. Again. Kid’s left a dozen messages in the last week, and still doesn’t seem to get that it’s a waste of time. He’s not gonna answer.
“Sorry, Sammy. Dean’s gone.” He snarls, tosses the phone to the floor and smashes it under his boot as he opens the car door and slides inside. “An’ he ain’t never comin’ back.”
End