My Brother's Keeper, Part 11 - Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: My Brother's Keeper, Part Eleven( Part One Here, Part Two Here, Part Three Here, Part Four Here, Part Five Here, Part Six Here, Part Seven Here, Part Eight Here, Part Nine Here, Part Ten Here)
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Table: #1
Prompt: 020 Love
Word Count: 22206
Summary: Complete AU. On the night the demon kills Mary Winchester, John saves Dean, but before he can go back for Sam, the fire spreads. It is assumed that Sam is dead along with his mother. In reality, he has been taken and is raised by a family dedicate to the demon who killed Mary. One night after a hunt, Dean runs into him in a bar in Palo Alto, never a clue who he really is.
Warnings: Overall-Incest, m/m sex, blood play, bondage, non-con. Babies and demons and blood and come...The return of the sex...hot and dirty...just the way you want it.
This is my thirtieth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
Dean sat outside the motel room in a beat up lawn chair, Dana asleep on his shoulder. He was tired, but couldn’t bring himself to get up and go inside. The feeling of the sleeping infant in his arms was calming…lulling…it filled him with emotions he wasn’t sure he had names for. He knew anger, fear, vengeance, hatred…but love for him had always been mixed in with the rest, all edged and sharp, cutting deep jagged wounds that the rest could fester inside of.
He sighed deeply and adjusted his position a little, letting his head fall against the wall. The door beside him opened and his father stepped outside, a blanket in his hands. John smiled at him, and it was a smile Dean wasn’t familiar with…his eyes sparkled and his freshly shaved face lost the worry and wrinkles and hot angry fire. He reminded Dean of the man he’d been before they’d lost everything. “Here, it’s getting cool out here.”
John settled the blanket over Dana’s sleeping form, his hand lingering on her head for a moment. “That look suits you.”
Dean smiled and shook his head. “Is he asleep?”
John nodded. “I only gave him a half dose though. We’re running low and I don’t know when we can get more.” He leaned up against the rail. “So…how did it go?”
Dean inhaled sharply. “I can’t be sure…I mean, I haven’t figured out how to tell when he’s lying. He says that the compulsion will wear off on its own…eventually.”
“How eventually?”
Dean’s mouth twitched. “A few months…maybe.”
“I don’t like that.”
“Me either. He didn’t know what the demon had planned Dad. That much I believe. He did know a little about the ritual. I think…I think we’re okay. The baptism was only the first part of the ritual, preparing the…” He turned his head, brushing his lips over Dana’s head. “…vessel. It didn’t get to the next part.”
John nodded. The sat in silence for a moment, then John stood up. “I’m very proud of you Dean.” Dean didn’t look up, only sighed, the tired pulling on him. “You should probably go inside though, before you fall asleep out here.” To that Dean nodded, then seemed to catch the tone or something in his father’s voice.
“Where are you going?”
John smiled broadly and pulled keys from his pocket. “Out. Probably all night. There’s an old friend in town. We’re gonna grab some beers, talk shop.”
Dean smiled. “Good. You could use some fun, Dad. Enjoy.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
Dean rolled his eyes as he got slowly to his feet. “I think I can handle a sleeping infant and a drugged into submission brother…even a demonically inclined brother. Go on.” He watched his father go, then went into the room, stepping carefully over the line of salt.
The room looked like they’d been there for weeks instead of a few days. A playpen was set up in the corner after they had eaten and John had retrieved it from the Impala’s trunk. At least it wasn’t pink. Dean crossed to it and laid Dana down, covering her with the blanket before pressing two fingers to his lips, then her lips. Their gear was spread out around the room, clothes drying on a line stretched over the kitchenette area. His father’s books were stacked beside the nearer bed.
Sam shifted, rolled to his side, facing Dean and Dean felt himself flush with warmth. His eyes skimmed over Sam’s face, that face that had melted him within minutes of meeting him, framed with dark hair that felt so good in his hands. He took a deep breath and told himself to stop, but his eyes weren’t done…snagged in the act of dragging them away…snagged on his lips…those lips that knew better than Dean did how to make Dean a quivering wreck, begging to come.
Dean’s cock hardened and he cussed. “What am I, a fucking teenager?” He turned his back to Sam, but the damage was done and he wasn’t getting it to go away without taking matters in hand. “Okay. Fine.”
He checked to be sure Dana was still sleeping, then stripped down to his boxers, and rummaged around in his bag for the lube. Once he’d found it, Dean moved into the bathroom, his cock harder for passing Sam on the way. Once he’d closed the door, Dean wasted little time in dropping his boxers and slipping a lube slicked hand around himself. He just wanted to get it over with and get some sleep.
It didn’t take long to become obvious that that wasn’t happening. Dean forcefully dragged his thoughts away from Sam’s body…Sam’s controlling fucking…Sam’s cock in his ass. He tried to replace him with some random fantasy girl…guy…tried to cast himself in the dominant role, the way he had always been with everyone but Sam…but nothing helped. The lube dried up and he had to re-apply. Twenty minutes…and if anything he was only harder. “Fuck.”
Dean stopped, took his hand off of himself and braced himself against the bathroom wall. “Fuck.” Memories of the many and varied ways he and Sam had done just that filled him. He shook with the need for release…for Sam…he realized in a flash of memory of that first time and he groaned.
Walking was not easy this hard…but he managed…somehow to get from the bathroom to the side of the bed. “Sam,” he whispered it hoarsely, reaching out to shake him. The blanket moved and Dean’s hand contacted flesh instead. He moaned as that familiar fire burned from the point of contact straight to his groan. “Sammy, please.”
Sam mumbled, turned, eyes opening slowly, then widening as Dean’s cock waved in his face. He was drug hazed, but he licked his lips. “Dean?”
“I can’t…it won’t…Sam…Fuck.”
Sam smiled vaguely. “You keep saying that,” he whispered and Dean growled. “Okay…its okay, baby. Come here.” Sam sat up and reached for him and Dean stumbled forward.
“No…just…say it…so I can…Sam, God.” Dean jerked as Sam’s hand closed over him. He hadn’t meant…hadn’t wanted this…just to come, just to… “Sam, don’t. We can’t.”
Sam looked up at him, his confusion clear in his eyes. “You want it.”
Dean shook his head, his eyes closed. “Need…no, Sam. Brothers. We’re brothers. We can’t. We…can’t.”
“Let me take care of you, Dean.” Sam said and Dean groaned, knowing he would…because right here, right now the compulsion took advantage of him wanting this, no matter how he protested.
Sam’s mouth closed over just the head, sucking lightly, and Dean jumped. His hand closed over the base, rubbing it while his tongue licked up over the crown, lapping at the pre-cum before once more closing his lips over the shaft and swallowing it deep. Dean’s body rocked forward, his hands closing in Sam’s hair. Sam’s hands circled Dean, his fingers digging into the fleshy part of Dean’s ass as he swallowed harder and Dean bucked his hips forward, mindlessly fucking Sam’s mouth. “Sam…god, Sam,…need to…fuck…need to come. Need…please…”
Sam’s mouth slid off him and he looked up, his green eyes hooded and dark with lust. “Yeah, baby…come…I want you to come.”
Dean moaned and Sam closed his mouth over the head, sucking as Dean’s cock twitched and started to spew. His hands stroked over Dean’s lower back and ass as he swallowed, and Dean fell forward, pressing Sam back onto the bed until his cock pulled out of Sam’s mouth with a pop and Dean was straddling him, panting.
Sam’s hand rubbed up his legs and Dean groaned shaking his head. “No. Sam. Stop.”
“I want you so much Dean.” Sam whispered, pulling Dean toward him, closing his lips over Dean’s. As his tongue slipped into his mouth Dean could taste himself, mixed with that taste that was Sam…and he groaned again. “Please.” Sam whispered as he brought Dean’s body down, rolling them so that Dean was under him. “Please Dean, I want to touch you. I want to fuck you again. Please.”
It wasn’t a command, it wasn’t a statement pulling Dean into action without caring what he wanted. Dean’s eyes were closed as Sam’s hands and lips roamed over his skin. It was a question, a need…an ache that Dean recognized. Wrong . It echoed in his head, bouncing off of Need and want and fuck me now until he felt Sam’s finger sliding inside him and his legs moving of their own accord, giving him room. “Yeah…okay…Sammy…okay.” He heard himself say it, felt his body open up, and Sam move over him.
Two fingers invaded him and he arched into the touch. “Sam,” he gasped, tilting his hips up in an effort to bring him deeper. “Now…god, do that again.” Sam pressed down on Dean’s prostrate before pulling his fingers out. Dean moaned and thrust his hips after the fingers until he felt Sam’s cock there, pressing slowly into him. “Fuck.”
Then Sam slid in, deep and strong and Dean threw his head back, nearly howling as Sam held and waited for him to adjust, his fingers sliding through Dean’s short hair while his lips sought out a nipple to tweak and kiss. Sam’s fingers slid down, over his face until his hands were on his shoulders, pushing himself up and out of Dean before pushing back inside. “Harder Sam. Harder.” Dean murmured through clenched teeth, his hands fisting in the sheets of the bed as Sam obliged, setting a blistering rhythm and slamming hard enough into Dean that the bed rocked beneath them, inching across the floor toward the wall. “Fuck!” Dean yelled, his body shaking as Sam’s cock thrust into his prostrate on every stroke.
“Dean…”Sam fell forward at the bottom of his stroke, his cock filling Dean with warmth and wetness. He smiled sloppily, his eyes showing signs of the drugs in his system and the pull of sleep. He muttered something that might have been “Love you,” before his head was on Dean’s chest and he was asleep. Dean lay under him panting for a long moment. When he’d finally caught his breath and the chorus of doubt and Brother in his head was reaching full volume, Dean pushed Sam off of him and climbed out of the bed.
He paced the room naked for a few minutes, shaking his head and kicking himself for letting that just happen like that. Especially when Sam hadn’t ordered…the only compulsion had been the blow job, to let Sam suck him off, rather than just ordering him to come. Dean slammed into the bathroom, running water in the sink to splash over his face. His own reflection accused him. “You are one sick fuck.”
The point was only emphasized by the come running from his ass down the back of his leg and he cussed again before climbing in the shower to wash away the evidence. Once he was done, he pulled on jeans and rearranged Sam in the bed, turning him so his head was on a pillow and sliding covers up over his nakedness.
For the first time in a long time he wished he hadn’t given up smoking. A cigarette would somehow make him feel better…or maybe give him something to do with his hands. He made for the door, opening it to let the cool night air caress his over-heated skin.
They had to find a better solution to their current predicament…to Sam and Dana and the very fucked up life they lived. Dean leaned against the door jamb and breathed in the air. Dana deserved more than the vagabond life he had lived since he was a child. And really, what did he know about being a father that wasn’t caught up in the Winchester crusade, with late night hunts for ghosts and monsters and day time training and running from town to town?
Dana deserved friends and school and a father who didn’t disappear at night…for weeks on end…and come back bruised and beaten and haunted by what he had seen and done. She deserved a home, not some flea bag motel on the outskirts of a town she’d never call home.
Then, there was Sam. Dean turned around, facing into the room, leaning his head on the door. Dean wasn’t sure what Sam deserved. It was easy to just call him evil and cut him loose…well, it would be if not for all this emotion and compulsion and the fact that evil or not, he was human…and like it or not, a Winchester.
The problem Dean was having went way beyond his sexual needs, butted up against Dean’s inherent need of family. Sam hadn’t really been given choices, or had role models that…Dean sighed, recognizing his rationalization.
The truth of it was, they couldn’t keep him drugged forever, and there was no way in hell Dean was trusting him enough to leave him in a room with his father and his daughter without the drugs to incapacitate him.
But the other truth was he hadn’t lied when Sam had asked him to love him. Somehow, despite it all…Dean did love him. It went beyond want and compulsion. It went way the hell beyond brothers…into some sick fucked up…love…And more than anything else that had happened since coming to Boston, that frightened him.
Title: My Brother's Keeper, Part Eleven( Part One Here, Part Two Here, Part Three Here, Part Four Here, Part Five Here, Part Six Here, Part Seven Here, Part Eight Here, Part Nine Here, Part Ten Here)
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Table: #1
Prompt: 020 Love
Word Count: 22206
Summary: Complete AU. On the night the demon kills Mary Winchester, John saves Dean, but before he can go back for Sam, the fire spreads. It is assumed that Sam is dead along with his mother. In reality, he has been taken and is raised by a family dedicate to the demon who killed Mary. One night after a hunt, Dean runs into him in a bar in Palo Alto, never a clue who he really is.
Warnings: Overall-Incest, m/m sex, blood play, bondage, non-con. Babies and demons and blood and come...The return of the sex...hot and dirty...just the way you want it.
This is my thirtieth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
Dean sat outside the motel room in a beat up lawn chair, Dana asleep on his shoulder. He was tired, but couldn’t bring himself to get up and go inside. The feeling of the sleeping infant in his arms was calming…lulling…it filled him with emotions he wasn’t sure he had names for. He knew anger, fear, vengeance, hatred…but love for him had always been mixed in with the rest, all edged and sharp, cutting deep jagged wounds that the rest could fester inside of.
He sighed deeply and adjusted his position a little, letting his head fall against the wall. The door beside him opened and his father stepped outside, a blanket in his hands. John smiled at him, and it was a smile Dean wasn’t familiar with…his eyes sparkled and his freshly shaved face lost the worry and wrinkles and hot angry fire. He reminded Dean of the man he’d been before they’d lost everything. “Here, it’s getting cool out here.”
John settled the blanket over Dana’s sleeping form, his hand lingering on her head for a moment. “That look suits you.”
Dean smiled and shook his head. “Is he asleep?”
John nodded. “I only gave him a half dose though. We’re running low and I don’t know when we can get more.” He leaned up against the rail. “So…how did it go?”
Dean inhaled sharply. “I can’t be sure…I mean, I haven’t figured out how to tell when he’s lying. He says that the compulsion will wear off on its own…eventually.”
“How eventually?”
Dean’s mouth twitched. “A few months…maybe.”
“I don’t like that.”
“Me either. He didn’t know what the demon had planned Dad. That much I believe. He did know a little about the ritual. I think…I think we’re okay. The baptism was only the first part of the ritual, preparing the…” He turned his head, brushing his lips over Dana’s head. “…vessel. It didn’t get to the next part.”
John nodded. The sat in silence for a moment, then John stood up. “I’m very proud of you Dean.” Dean didn’t look up, only sighed, the tired pulling on him. “You should probably go inside though, before you fall asleep out here.” To that Dean nodded, then seemed to catch the tone or something in his father’s voice.
“Where are you going?”
John smiled broadly and pulled keys from his pocket. “Out. Probably all night. There’s an old friend in town. We’re gonna grab some beers, talk shop.”
Dean smiled. “Good. You could use some fun, Dad. Enjoy.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
Dean rolled his eyes as he got slowly to his feet. “I think I can handle a sleeping infant and a drugged into submission brother…even a demonically inclined brother. Go on.” He watched his father go, then went into the room, stepping carefully over the line of salt.
The room looked like they’d been there for weeks instead of a few days. A playpen was set up in the corner after they had eaten and John had retrieved it from the Impala’s trunk. At least it wasn’t pink. Dean crossed to it and laid Dana down, covering her with the blanket before pressing two fingers to his lips, then her lips. Their gear was spread out around the room, clothes drying on a line stretched over the kitchenette area. His father’s books were stacked beside the nearer bed.
Sam shifted, rolled to his side, facing Dean and Dean felt himself flush with warmth. His eyes skimmed over Sam’s face, that face that had melted him within minutes of meeting him, framed with dark hair that felt so good in his hands. He took a deep breath and told himself to stop, but his eyes weren’t done…snagged in the act of dragging them away…snagged on his lips…those lips that knew better than Dean did how to make Dean a quivering wreck, begging to come.
Dean’s cock hardened and he cussed. “What am I, a fucking teenager?” He turned his back to Sam, but the damage was done and he wasn’t getting it to go away without taking matters in hand. “Okay. Fine.”
He checked to be sure Dana was still sleeping, then stripped down to his boxers, and rummaged around in his bag for the lube. Once he’d found it, Dean moved into the bathroom, his cock harder for passing Sam on the way. Once he’d closed the door, Dean wasted little time in dropping his boxers and slipping a lube slicked hand around himself. He just wanted to get it over with and get some sleep.
It didn’t take long to become obvious that that wasn’t happening. Dean forcefully dragged his thoughts away from Sam’s body…Sam’s controlling fucking…Sam’s cock in his ass. He tried to replace him with some random fantasy girl…guy…tried to cast himself in the dominant role, the way he had always been with everyone but Sam…but nothing helped. The lube dried up and he had to re-apply. Twenty minutes…and if anything he was only harder. “Fuck.”
Dean stopped, took his hand off of himself and braced himself against the bathroom wall. “Fuck.” Memories of the many and varied ways he and Sam had done just that filled him. He shook with the need for release…for Sam…he realized in a flash of memory of that first time and he groaned.
Walking was not easy this hard…but he managed…somehow to get from the bathroom to the side of the bed. “Sam,” he whispered it hoarsely, reaching out to shake him. The blanket moved and Dean’s hand contacted flesh instead. He moaned as that familiar fire burned from the point of contact straight to his groan. “Sammy, please.”
Sam mumbled, turned, eyes opening slowly, then widening as Dean’s cock waved in his face. He was drug hazed, but he licked his lips. “Dean?”
“I can’t…it won’t…Sam…Fuck.”
Sam smiled vaguely. “You keep saying that,” he whispered and Dean growled. “Okay…its okay, baby. Come here.” Sam sat up and reached for him and Dean stumbled forward.
“No…just…say it…so I can…Sam, God.” Dean jerked as Sam’s hand closed over him. He hadn’t meant…hadn’t wanted this…just to come, just to… “Sam, don’t. We can’t.”
Sam looked up at him, his confusion clear in his eyes. “You want it.”
Dean shook his head, his eyes closed. “Need…no, Sam. Brothers. We’re brothers. We can’t. We…can’t.”
“Let me take care of you, Dean.” Sam said and Dean groaned, knowing he would…because right here, right now the compulsion took advantage of him wanting this, no matter how he protested.
Sam’s mouth closed over just the head, sucking lightly, and Dean jumped. His hand closed over the base, rubbing it while his tongue licked up over the crown, lapping at the pre-cum before once more closing his lips over the shaft and swallowing it deep. Dean’s body rocked forward, his hands closing in Sam’s hair. Sam’s hands circled Dean, his fingers digging into the fleshy part of Dean’s ass as he swallowed harder and Dean bucked his hips forward, mindlessly fucking Sam’s mouth. “Sam…god, Sam,…need to…fuck…need to come. Need…please…”
Sam’s mouth slid off him and he looked up, his green eyes hooded and dark with lust. “Yeah, baby…come…I want you to come.”
Dean moaned and Sam closed his mouth over the head, sucking as Dean’s cock twitched and started to spew. His hands stroked over Dean’s lower back and ass as he swallowed, and Dean fell forward, pressing Sam back onto the bed until his cock pulled out of Sam’s mouth with a pop and Dean was straddling him, panting.
Sam’s hand rubbed up his legs and Dean groaned shaking his head. “No. Sam. Stop.”
“I want you so much Dean.” Sam whispered, pulling Dean toward him, closing his lips over Dean’s. As his tongue slipped into his mouth Dean could taste himself, mixed with that taste that was Sam…and he groaned again. “Please.” Sam whispered as he brought Dean’s body down, rolling them so that Dean was under him. “Please Dean, I want to touch you. I want to fuck you again. Please.”
It wasn’t a command, it wasn’t a statement pulling Dean into action without caring what he wanted. Dean’s eyes were closed as Sam’s hands and lips roamed over his skin. It was a question, a need…an ache that Dean recognized. Wrong . It echoed in his head, bouncing off of Need and want and fuck me now until he felt Sam’s finger sliding inside him and his legs moving of their own accord, giving him room. “Yeah…okay…Sammy…okay.” He heard himself say it, felt his body open up, and Sam move over him.
Two fingers invaded him and he arched into the touch. “Sam,” he gasped, tilting his hips up in an effort to bring him deeper. “Now…god, do that again.” Sam pressed down on Dean’s prostrate before pulling his fingers out. Dean moaned and thrust his hips after the fingers until he felt Sam’s cock there, pressing slowly into him. “Fuck.”
Then Sam slid in, deep and strong and Dean threw his head back, nearly howling as Sam held and waited for him to adjust, his fingers sliding through Dean’s short hair while his lips sought out a nipple to tweak and kiss. Sam’s fingers slid down, over his face until his hands were on his shoulders, pushing himself up and out of Dean before pushing back inside. “Harder Sam. Harder.” Dean murmured through clenched teeth, his hands fisting in the sheets of the bed as Sam obliged, setting a blistering rhythm and slamming hard enough into Dean that the bed rocked beneath them, inching across the floor toward the wall. “Fuck!” Dean yelled, his body shaking as Sam’s cock thrust into his prostrate on every stroke.
“Dean…”Sam fell forward at the bottom of his stroke, his cock filling Dean with warmth and wetness. He smiled sloppily, his eyes showing signs of the drugs in his system and the pull of sleep. He muttered something that might have been “Love you,” before his head was on Dean’s chest and he was asleep. Dean lay under him panting for a long moment. When he’d finally caught his breath and the chorus of doubt and Brother in his head was reaching full volume, Dean pushed Sam off of him and climbed out of the bed.
He paced the room naked for a few minutes, shaking his head and kicking himself for letting that just happen like that. Especially when Sam hadn’t ordered…the only compulsion had been the blow job, to let Sam suck him off, rather than just ordering him to come. Dean slammed into the bathroom, running water in the sink to splash over his face. His own reflection accused him. “You are one sick fuck.”
The point was only emphasized by the come running from his ass down the back of his leg and he cussed again before climbing in the shower to wash away the evidence. Once he was done, he pulled on jeans and rearranged Sam in the bed, turning him so his head was on a pillow and sliding covers up over his nakedness.
For the first time in a long time he wished he hadn’t given up smoking. A cigarette would somehow make him feel better…or maybe give him something to do with his hands. He made for the door, opening it to let the cool night air caress his over-heated skin.
They had to find a better solution to their current predicament…to Sam and Dana and the very fucked up life they lived. Dean leaned against the door jamb and breathed in the air. Dana deserved more than the vagabond life he had lived since he was a child. And really, what did he know about being a father that wasn’t caught up in the Winchester crusade, with late night hunts for ghosts and monsters and day time training and running from town to town?
Dana deserved friends and school and a father who didn’t disappear at night…for weeks on end…and come back bruised and beaten and haunted by what he had seen and done. She deserved a home, not some flea bag motel on the outskirts of a town she’d never call home.
Then, there was Sam. Dean turned around, facing into the room, leaning his head on the door. Dean wasn’t sure what Sam deserved. It was easy to just call him evil and cut him loose…well, it would be if not for all this emotion and compulsion and the fact that evil or not, he was human…and like it or not, a Winchester.
The problem Dean was having went way beyond his sexual needs, butted up against Dean’s inherent need of family. Sam hadn’t really been given choices, or had role models that…Dean sighed, recognizing his rationalization.
The truth of it was, they couldn’t keep him drugged forever, and there was no way in hell Dean was trusting him enough to leave him in a room with his father and his daughter without the drugs to incapacitate him.
But the other truth was he hadn’t lied when Sam had asked him to love him. Somehow, despite it all…Dean did love him. It went beyond want and compulsion. It went way the hell beyond brothers…into some sick fucked up…love…And more than anything else that had happened since coming to Boston, that frightened him.