Somthing, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Something
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3641
Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from nanakomatsu and Nothing. Dean was kidnapped and made into a slave. Sam bought him back. Now Dean is starting to remember who he is, but breaking through the conditioning proves to be difficult.
A/Ns and Warnings: Slave!Dean, references (still vague at this point) to torture and rape...not exactly pretty stuff here.
Dean waited. He woke in the late afternoon alone. He remembered himself...remembered Sam’s kiss…remembered his father’s voice. Sam wasn’t there. He’d promised. Dean remembered.
He slid from the bed and went to the window. Sam was standing beside the truck. Their father was with him. Dean paced the room before the conditioning took over and he went to the bathroom.
It was easier…gave him something to do. It had been drilled into him, wake up, prepare. Always the same. It didn’t matter when he woke. He started the shower, making it hot, as hot as it would go. Stripped. Folded the clothes neatly and set them on the back of the toilet. He relieved himself and stepped into the shower. The water stung, scalded. He tilted his head into the stream. It was routine. It was simple. Wash his hair. Rinse. Scrub his body, toes, feet, legs, stomach and chest, face, hands, arms…genitals, ass.
He didn’t think about it, just scoured himself clean, quick efficient, and turned off the water. Each step in the regimen was precise, dictated. His hands didn’t shake anymore as he pulled the comb through his hair and shaved his face. He didn’t have to count the minutes as he brushed his teeth anymore.
When he was done, he stopped, seeing himself in the mirror. His eyes were hollow, his cheeks thinned. He didn’t look like himself. The door opened and Sam’s voice called him. Dean stepped out of the bathroom. Sam looked relieved. “Dean?”
He nodded, because he didn’t really know how else to respond.
“Dad’s getting a room. He’s…not going to push to see you.”
“He told me to leave.”
Sam nodded. “I know. He told me.”
“You left me.” It wasn’t really an accusation, though it sounded like one. Dean just wanted it to make sense. “I was alone.” He remembered that…the dark, the loneliness. They left him alone in the dark for days…until hunger and thirst drove him crazy.
“I did leave you, Dean. I am…sorry…I never should have gone…I should have stayed with you.”
Dean shook his head. “No…you were right. You should leave…I never deserved you.”
Sam groaned and Dean could see the pain in his eyes. “I hurt you.”
“No…” Sam crossed to him, his hand caressing Dean’s face. “No…you saved me…you held me when I was scared, you loved me when I was a total prick…I needed you Dean, and you were always there.”
“Now look at me. I’m…nothing…”
“Stop saying that. You will never be nothing to me.”
“They told me you were dead.” Dean said into the silence a few minutes later. “Showed me pictures. I cried your name at night. Then you were dead and I stopped…I gave up…everything…let them…”
“Dean.” Sam breathed the name, pulling Dean in close and holding him. Dean didn’t move, just stood there in Sam’s arms. He didn’t know how to respond. Kindness wasn’t in his vocabulary anymore. There was punishment and obedience and silence.
“Let’s get you dressed.” Sam said when he finally let go. His voice was tender, but somehow that made it worse.
“Slaves don’t get to wear clothes.” Dean said. “Unless the master takes them in public.” His fingers toyed with the leather of the collar, laying where he’d left it the night before on the small table.
“You aren’t…my slave, Dean. You’re my brother.”
It felt like fire. The words disowning him. Dean shook. He needed to belong. He needed Sam to understand. He picked up the collar and turned to find Sam holding a pair of jeans. He’d earned it once. He would do it again. He crossed to Sam and went to his knees, holding up the collar. “Please. If I…let me try.”
Sam took the leather, but shook his head. “Dean…I don’t understand.”
It was uncomfortable, explaining. Masters were meant to know, to understand. “A slave earns the right to wear the collar. I…was good enough once. I could be again.”
Sam dropped to his knees. There were tears in his eyes. “Dean…I didn’t know.”
Dean lowered his eyes, bowed his head, offering up the back of his neck. “I want to be, Sam. I want to…for you.”
Sam’s fingers under his chin tilted his face up. Dean wasn’t sure what was expected. His kiss was soft and Dean could feel Sam’s tears wet his face. He closed his eyes and opened himself to Sam’s touch, to his tongue. He’d forgotten how sweet Sam’s mouth was…he’d forgotten so much.
He started a little when he felt the touch of the leather. It slithered around his neck and he could feel Sam’s fingers working the buckle. “Always good enough Dean.” Sam whispered. His hands cupped to Dean’s face. “Always.”
Dean blinked back the tears. Not supposed to cry. Not supposed to show emotion without permission. “Yours, Sam?”
Sam sat back a little, his eyes searching Dean’s face. “Yes, Dean. Mine.”
“Always.”
Sam nodded, brushing away the tears on his face. “Always.”
Dean inhaled deeply. “I’ll wear the clothes, if you want me to.”
Sam picked up the forgotten denim and handed it to him. “It will be easier to take you to the diner if you’re dressed.”
“Out?”
Sam nodded. “Yes, I think it will do us both some good. You’ll have to wear shoes though.”
Dean felt relief well inside him. Sam didn’t disown him. Didn’t throw him away. He offered a tentative smile. “For you.”
There was a lot to remember when in public. Stay behind and to the left. Don’t walk too fast. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t touch. He was grateful Sam didn’t ask, didn’t insist on changing anything. It was hard enough without fighting the programming.
Sam smiled at the waitress as she handed them menus. “Know what you want to drink, Dean?”
He didn’t look up, didn’t pick up the menu. “Water, please.” Sam was looking at him. Dean tried for eye contact, and only got as far as his mouth. “Just water.”
Sam nodded and ordered a coke, and the waitress was gone. “You okay?”
Dean glanced around him. All the open space was terrifying. He nodded tightly. “Its hard.” He tugged at the collar of his jacket that hid the leather collar underneath. “Long time.”
Sam’s hand snaked across the table and squeezed his. “It’s okay. We don’t have to stay.”
Dean shook his head. “No. I’m fine.”
“Okay…how about some food?”
Dean stared at the menu for a long time. “Don’t know…don’t remember.” He could remember Sam skinning his knee when he tripped on his way home from school when he was 9…and he could remember kissing Mary Bonner under the bleachers…but he didn’t know if he liked pot roast, or French fries or apple pie. He couldn’t remember what they tasted like.
Choice was one of the first things they took away. You ate what was given to you, or you went hungry. He went hungry a lot in the first few weeks.
“Anything on the menu, Dean.”
He licked his lips. “Can I…May I try the pot roast?”
Sam smiled and nodded. “Pot roast it is. Make it two.”
Dean looked up, not even aware the waitress had come back. He had to pay better attention. Had to be observant. If he wasn’t he would be punished. He tucked his hands under the table and stared at his water.
It took him a minute to realize Sam was talking to him. “I figure we can go just about anywhere…maybe find a nice cabin someplace. Take some down time.”
“May I…ask something?” Dean asked, still not really looking at Sam.
“Anything Dean.”
“School. You left me for school. I remember. Are you finished?”
“In every way that matters, Dean.” Sam’s hand caressed his cheek. “Okay? I’m not leaving you.”
“Not why I was asking. We could…I mean…if it’s what you want…”
Sam seemed to get what he was driving at. He sighed and moved back so the waitress could put their plates down. “No, it isn’t what I want Dean. Not anymore.” Sam started on his food. After a minute he realized Dean wasn’t eating. He sighed. “Eat, Dean.”
He hadn’t realized he was waiting. He picked up his fork and tasted each thing on his plate, as if he’d never had any of it before. He decided he didn’t like the carrots, but ate them anyway…ate them first, then the potatoes. The meat he liked the best, so he saved it for last. He ate liked he cleaned himself, quickly, efficiently. No talking, no looking around. Always pay attention to the task.
When he finished, he sat back in the booth, eyes on the empty plate. Sam was still eating, watching him and eating. “Do you want something else, Dean?”
Want? He wasn’t supposed to want anything but to please his owner, his Sam. He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“I’m almost done. We can go back to the motel.”
Dean stopped between the Impala and his father’s truck. Sam was nearly to the door of their room before he realized Dean wasn’t right behind him and came back. “Does he know?” Dean asked breathlessly, one hand skimming over the truck’s side.
“Does he know what, Dean?”
“What I am.” Dean shook his head. He tried to force the words out. Words had never been his strong suit. “What happened to me. Does he know?”
Sam hung his head. “I told him. I wanted to hurt him, for hurting you.”
“I remember I was almost back to the motel, to him. I remember the truck.” Dean breathed slowly, watching his hand slide over the smooth surface. “I was still angry. I tripped, fell against it.” He could feel the jolt as his face connected just above the wheel well. “Then there were hands. They pushed me.”
He shuddered and almost pulled away when Sam touched him. Never cringe, never move. “They…fucked me right here.” His hand stopped moving, pressed against the cool metal. “I couldn’t move. Then everything was dark.”
Sam gathered him close, held him. He felt warm, safe. He hadn’t felt that in a very long time. It made him feel bold. He tilted his head up, his lips seeking Sam’s. The arms around him tightened and he raised his arms to reciprocate. “Let’s go inside.” Sam whispered, drawing him toward the door.
When the door was closed and locked, Sam’s hands unzipped Dean’s jacket, pulling it off and tossing it aside. “Tell me what you want, Dean. Anything you want.” Sam’s arms were around his waist, his lips painting Dean’s face with kisses.
“I want to please you.” It was an automatic response, drilled in to him. Fortunately this time he really meant it.
“Aside from that. What do you want…for you?” Sam’s kiss was deep, his tongue sliding over Dean’s before he pulled back.
Dean wasn’t sure he knew what Sam was asking him. He wasn’t sure he knew how to answer. “Anything at all…first thing that pops into your mind.” Sam whispered.
Dean tilted his head as Sam’s mouth moved down to his neck, giving him more room, more neck to kiss. “Rules.”
It startled them both and Sam backed off enough to lead them over to the bed. “What kind of rules, Dean?”
He swallowed. “If I belong to you, there should be rules. You change the rules…the ones I know…it makes me uncomfortable.”
Sam nodded, but looked uncomfortable himself now. “Like…wearing clothes?” His eyes sought out Dean’s. “Like arousal and the kneeling?”
“I don’t know what to do sometimes.” Dean hated the way his stomach twisted when Sam looked at him like that…with the pity and the hints of disgust. “I’m trying, Sam, to remember how to be…what I used to be…but I’m not him anymore…I’m not.”
“Shh…it’s okay Dean. I understand. Really.” He kissed Dean softly and held his face. “Let’s start with the clothes thing. Unless we’re going to bed or I tell you otherwise, you wear underwear at least. Okay?”
Dean nodded. “Yes. Okay.”
“Good. And…I want you…I want you to be aroused when I touch you Dean…when we’re intimate…you don’t need permission to show me if you want me.” His hand slid between Dean’s thighs, pressing inward. “I like that I turn you on. Do you remember, Dean?”
He felt panic as Sam’s fingers played along the seam of the jeans. Months he’d worn the contraption that kept him limp, until he’d learned how to control himself…until he could have his prostrate stroked repeatedly without reaction….until he was nothing more than a tool. “Sam.” He couldn’t pull away.
He’d woken up once with an erection after the thing came off and he’d been beaten severely. “Sam, please.”
Sam’s hand stopped. “It’s okay Dean.”
Dean shook his head. “Not…not like this.”
“Like what?”
“Please Sam…let me…maybe if you let me…” He swallowed and tried to shake it off. He remembered he used to be more straightforward. “I want to come while you fuck me.”
Sam stared at him for a minute, then grinned. “That’s my Dean.” He kissed him, hard and wet and sloppy. “That, we can do.”
Dean smiled too, happy to see Sam smile, happy to earn that joy. “May I undress for you?”
The smile faded just a little, then Sam shook his head. “No. I want to do it. Just stand there.”
Sam shed his jacket, then his shirt before moving over to Dean. His hands slipped over bare arms, up under the sleeves of the t-shirt, before sliding down and gripping the material just above Dean’s waist. He tugged and the shirt came loose from the jeans. “The first time I did this…you were twenty. You were hurt, dislocated your shoulder.” His hands moved up under the shirt, caressing Dean’s skin as he moved the material upward.
Dean felt lips press against his back. He lifted his arms as Sam pulled the shirt up further and Sam pressed his warm chest against Dean’s back. “I kissed every inch of you that night.” The t-shirt was bunched up in Sam’s hands as he pulled Dean closer, off balance. His mouth moved over Dean’s ear, down to the hollow just behind it, his tongue dipping in to touch his skin. “Learned I loved the taste of you.”
Sam tossed the t-shirt aside, his hands gliding over Dean’s stomach and down to his jeans. Dean was already starting to get hard, despite his fear, because Sam wanted it and Sam was working so hard…and it was good…Sam’s hand was down inside his pants and Dean closed his eyes. “Please Sammy…”
“Yeah, baby…” His long fingers slid up and out, popping the button and pulling the zipper before he kissed his way down Dean’s spine, pulling at his jeans as he went. Dean swayed a little on his feet as Sam kissed and licked his way up over Dean’s ass, then moved around so that he was squatting in front of him. “Step out, Dean.” Sam murmured.
Dean stepped free of the puddle of denim. Sam kissed Dean’s thighs, licking his way over hip bones and dipping into his navel until Dean moaned in spite of himself. He could feel Sam’s smile against the skin of his stomach. “You always were sensitive there.”
“Sam…please…want to…”
Sam was standing now, his hand closing over Dean’s cock, stroking it as he kissed him. “Mine, Dean. You belong to me…always…”
Dean gasped into Sam’s mouth, the pleasure of the words stronger than the feeling of his dick in Sam’s hands. “On the bed, Dean.”
“Yes…” Dean was already panting, but he moved, crawling up on the bed, kneeling, offering himself. “Please…Sam…want you inside me.”
Sam’s hand was on his back, sliding down over his ass. “No, Dean…not like that. I want to see you…on your back.”
Dean hesitated…then slowly did as he was told, looking up as Sam peeled off his jeans. Dean could feel his cock against his belly, his ass clenching and unclenching. “May I…prep…should I…?” His hand moved under him, ready to open himself, but Sam shook his head.
“I’ll do it. Spread your legs for me Dean.”
Sam’s body was firm, strong, and his cock was hard and red as he climbed up onto the bed, easing between Dean’s thighs. His tongue slid over tense muscles as his hands moved Dean’s legs, bending the knees, planting his feet into the mattress. “Grab hold of the head board Dean. Hold on and don’t let go. I’m going to make this so good for you.”
He kissed his way down Dean’s thighs, his hands sliding under him to caress his ass, slowly working a finger closer to his hole. He wasn’t tight anymore, not like he’d been when they’d first taken him, and Sam’s one finger slid in easily without much resistance. Dean bucked as Sam pressed on his prostate, despite training…his cock twitched and Sam grinned. “Like that?”
“Sam…” It was almost a growl and Dean recoiled inwardly, but Sam licked up the underside of his cock and he lost track of what he was supposed to be doing. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and his legs fell open more.
A second finger joined the first and a third, filling him, stretching him. It was so much different when than his own fingers, so much more. Sam pulled his hand away leaving Dean aching and open and whimpering. He couldn’t have stopped the sounds pouring from his mouth if there had been a handler with a whip standing over him.
Sam’s cock slid in as if he was made just to fit inside him. Sam groaned as his balls connected with Dean’s ass, laying himself over Dean and kissing him deeply. “So beautiful.” Sam whispered. His first thrusts were slow, pulling nearly out before pushing back in, his hands touching, his fingers leaving electric fire in their wake. Dean’s cock was trapped between them, wanting…waiting..
Sam shifted so that his knees were under him, lifting Dean’s ass off the mattress as he increased his pace and reached for Dean’s cock. “Is this good, Dean?”
“Yours Sam.” Dean responded, though he knew it wasn’t exactly what Sam wanted…for the moment it was all he had…he grunted as Sam’s fist tightened and turned and his cock swelled in response. “Yours…yours…Sam…”
It was all he knew right that moment, and endless stream of “yours” and “Sam” and “please”…
“Come for me, baby…want to see you come.” Sam whispered and Dean arched up, spilling himself over Sam’s hand and onto his stomach. “So hot…so beautiful.”
Sam thrust in hard once, twice, then he was filling Dean and Dean let himself fall against the mattress, relief flooding his body. Sam slipped out of him, leaned forward to lick the come up off of Dean’s stomach before kissing him, sharing the taste as his hands caressed up Dean’s arms to his hands. “Let go…it’s okay.”
Sam rolled them to their sides, pulling Dean close to him. “Are you all right?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“I love you Dean. Always.”
It was hardest when Sam left him alone, which admittedly wasn’t often. Without commands, without instruction, Dean was left to his own devices. Sam had been gone for more than an hour, and Dean set about straightening the room, organizing his brother’s clothes, and at the bottom of his duffle he found something familiar.
His hand closed around it and pulled it from the bag, rolling it in his hands before moving to the table with it. He unrolled it, laying out the cloth on the table and setting out the tools carefully. This was familiar, like chewing gum or the smell of leather. He pulled the gun out from under Sam’s pillow and stripped it down, setting out the pieces and carefully examining each one before cleaning it and setting it back on the cloth.
He was nearly finished when the door opened and Sam smiled at him. He remembered that smile too…it made him warm inside. “Hey.”
Dean smiled awkwardly. “I…needed something to do.”
“It’s okay Dean. It’s good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Hey…I, um…I got you something while I was out.”
Sam set the grocery bags on the bed and reached into his pocket for a small package. He came and sat at the table, taking Dean’s hands away from the gun and holding them. “I have a confession to make, and I don’t want it to upset you. Okay? Just hear me through before you react.”
Dean was surprised to see Sam was nervous. “Every time I see that collar, Dean, I think of you in that place…and it’s driving me crazy. I know it means something to you…and I don’t want you to think you aren’t good enough or that I don’t want you…but I can’t look at it anymore.”
Sam reached up to touch it and Dean ducked his head dutifully. “So…I bought you something to replace it.” Sam pulled his hands free and opened the box. Inside, coiled around itself was a leather choker, smaller, thinner than the one he wore. “That collar marked you a slave, Dean…this one…this one marks you as mine…my…Dean. It means I’ll always protect you, I’ll always take care of you…that you’ll never be alone.”
He held it up between them and Dean’s eyes fixed on it, ignoring the tears that burned in his eyes. “Will you wear this one for me?” Sam asked, his voice small and soft. “Be mine forever?”
Dean couldn’t look at him, but he nodded, bowing his head to give Sam room to maneuver the buckle of the collar. It came off in his hands and for the first time, it’s absence didn’t make him feel like nothing…like he was worthless. Instead, as Sam slipped the supple leather of the new collar on him, it felt like maybe he was something after all.
Title: Something
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3641
Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from nanakomatsu and Nothing. Dean was kidnapped and made into a slave. Sam bought him back. Now Dean is starting to remember who he is, but breaking through the conditioning proves to be difficult.
A/Ns and Warnings: Slave!Dean, references (still vague at this point) to torture and rape...not exactly pretty stuff here.
Dean waited. He woke in the late afternoon alone. He remembered himself...remembered Sam’s kiss…remembered his father’s voice. Sam wasn’t there. He’d promised. Dean remembered.
He slid from the bed and went to the window. Sam was standing beside the truck. Their father was with him. Dean paced the room before the conditioning took over and he went to the bathroom.
It was easier…gave him something to do. It had been drilled into him, wake up, prepare. Always the same. It didn’t matter when he woke. He started the shower, making it hot, as hot as it would go. Stripped. Folded the clothes neatly and set them on the back of the toilet. He relieved himself and stepped into the shower. The water stung, scalded. He tilted his head into the stream. It was routine. It was simple. Wash his hair. Rinse. Scrub his body, toes, feet, legs, stomach and chest, face, hands, arms…genitals, ass.
He didn’t think about it, just scoured himself clean, quick efficient, and turned off the water. Each step in the regimen was precise, dictated. His hands didn’t shake anymore as he pulled the comb through his hair and shaved his face. He didn’t have to count the minutes as he brushed his teeth anymore.
When he was done, he stopped, seeing himself in the mirror. His eyes were hollow, his cheeks thinned. He didn’t look like himself. The door opened and Sam’s voice called him. Dean stepped out of the bathroom. Sam looked relieved. “Dean?”
He nodded, because he didn’t really know how else to respond.
“Dad’s getting a room. He’s…not going to push to see you.”
“He told me to leave.”
Sam nodded. “I know. He told me.”
“You left me.” It wasn’t really an accusation, though it sounded like one. Dean just wanted it to make sense. “I was alone.” He remembered that…the dark, the loneliness. They left him alone in the dark for days…until hunger and thirst drove him crazy.
“I did leave you, Dean. I am…sorry…I never should have gone…I should have stayed with you.”
Dean shook his head. “No…you were right. You should leave…I never deserved you.”
Sam groaned and Dean could see the pain in his eyes. “I hurt you.”
“No…” Sam crossed to him, his hand caressing Dean’s face. “No…you saved me…you held me when I was scared, you loved me when I was a total prick…I needed you Dean, and you were always there.”
“Now look at me. I’m…nothing…”
“Stop saying that. You will never be nothing to me.”
“They told me you were dead.” Dean said into the silence a few minutes later. “Showed me pictures. I cried your name at night. Then you were dead and I stopped…I gave up…everything…let them…”
“Dean.” Sam breathed the name, pulling Dean in close and holding him. Dean didn’t move, just stood there in Sam’s arms. He didn’t know how to respond. Kindness wasn’t in his vocabulary anymore. There was punishment and obedience and silence.
“Let’s get you dressed.” Sam said when he finally let go. His voice was tender, but somehow that made it worse.
“Slaves don’t get to wear clothes.” Dean said. “Unless the master takes them in public.” His fingers toyed with the leather of the collar, laying where he’d left it the night before on the small table.
“You aren’t…my slave, Dean. You’re my brother.”
It felt like fire. The words disowning him. Dean shook. He needed to belong. He needed Sam to understand. He picked up the collar and turned to find Sam holding a pair of jeans. He’d earned it once. He would do it again. He crossed to Sam and went to his knees, holding up the collar. “Please. If I…let me try.”
Sam took the leather, but shook his head. “Dean…I don’t understand.”
It was uncomfortable, explaining. Masters were meant to know, to understand. “A slave earns the right to wear the collar. I…was good enough once. I could be again.”
Sam dropped to his knees. There were tears in his eyes. “Dean…I didn’t know.”
Dean lowered his eyes, bowed his head, offering up the back of his neck. “I want to be, Sam. I want to…for you.”
Sam’s fingers under his chin tilted his face up. Dean wasn’t sure what was expected. His kiss was soft and Dean could feel Sam’s tears wet his face. He closed his eyes and opened himself to Sam’s touch, to his tongue. He’d forgotten how sweet Sam’s mouth was…he’d forgotten so much.
He started a little when he felt the touch of the leather. It slithered around his neck and he could feel Sam’s fingers working the buckle. “Always good enough Dean.” Sam whispered. His hands cupped to Dean’s face. “Always.”
Dean blinked back the tears. Not supposed to cry. Not supposed to show emotion without permission. “Yours, Sam?”
Sam sat back a little, his eyes searching Dean’s face. “Yes, Dean. Mine.”
“Always.”
Sam nodded, brushing away the tears on his face. “Always.”
Dean inhaled deeply. “I’ll wear the clothes, if you want me to.”
Sam picked up the forgotten denim and handed it to him. “It will be easier to take you to the diner if you’re dressed.”
“Out?”
Sam nodded. “Yes, I think it will do us both some good. You’ll have to wear shoes though.”
Dean felt relief well inside him. Sam didn’t disown him. Didn’t throw him away. He offered a tentative smile. “For you.”
There was a lot to remember when in public. Stay behind and to the left. Don’t walk too fast. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t touch. He was grateful Sam didn’t ask, didn’t insist on changing anything. It was hard enough without fighting the programming.
Sam smiled at the waitress as she handed them menus. “Know what you want to drink, Dean?”
He didn’t look up, didn’t pick up the menu. “Water, please.” Sam was looking at him. Dean tried for eye contact, and only got as far as his mouth. “Just water.”
Sam nodded and ordered a coke, and the waitress was gone. “You okay?”
Dean glanced around him. All the open space was terrifying. He nodded tightly. “Its hard.” He tugged at the collar of his jacket that hid the leather collar underneath. “Long time.”
Sam’s hand snaked across the table and squeezed his. “It’s okay. We don’t have to stay.”
Dean shook his head. “No. I’m fine.”
“Okay…how about some food?”
Dean stared at the menu for a long time. “Don’t know…don’t remember.” He could remember Sam skinning his knee when he tripped on his way home from school when he was 9…and he could remember kissing Mary Bonner under the bleachers…but he didn’t know if he liked pot roast, or French fries or apple pie. He couldn’t remember what they tasted like.
Choice was one of the first things they took away. You ate what was given to you, or you went hungry. He went hungry a lot in the first few weeks.
“Anything on the menu, Dean.”
He licked his lips. “Can I…May I try the pot roast?”
Sam smiled and nodded. “Pot roast it is. Make it two.”
Dean looked up, not even aware the waitress had come back. He had to pay better attention. Had to be observant. If he wasn’t he would be punished. He tucked his hands under the table and stared at his water.
It took him a minute to realize Sam was talking to him. “I figure we can go just about anywhere…maybe find a nice cabin someplace. Take some down time.”
“May I…ask something?” Dean asked, still not really looking at Sam.
“Anything Dean.”
“School. You left me for school. I remember. Are you finished?”
“In every way that matters, Dean.” Sam’s hand caressed his cheek. “Okay? I’m not leaving you.”
“Not why I was asking. We could…I mean…if it’s what you want…”
Sam seemed to get what he was driving at. He sighed and moved back so the waitress could put their plates down. “No, it isn’t what I want Dean. Not anymore.” Sam started on his food. After a minute he realized Dean wasn’t eating. He sighed. “Eat, Dean.”
He hadn’t realized he was waiting. He picked up his fork and tasted each thing on his plate, as if he’d never had any of it before. He decided he didn’t like the carrots, but ate them anyway…ate them first, then the potatoes. The meat he liked the best, so he saved it for last. He ate liked he cleaned himself, quickly, efficiently. No talking, no looking around. Always pay attention to the task.
When he finished, he sat back in the booth, eyes on the empty plate. Sam was still eating, watching him and eating. “Do you want something else, Dean?”
Want? He wasn’t supposed to want anything but to please his owner, his Sam. He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“I’m almost done. We can go back to the motel.”
Dean stopped between the Impala and his father’s truck. Sam was nearly to the door of their room before he realized Dean wasn’t right behind him and came back. “Does he know?” Dean asked breathlessly, one hand skimming over the truck’s side.
“Does he know what, Dean?”
“What I am.” Dean shook his head. He tried to force the words out. Words had never been his strong suit. “What happened to me. Does he know?”
Sam hung his head. “I told him. I wanted to hurt him, for hurting you.”
“I remember I was almost back to the motel, to him. I remember the truck.” Dean breathed slowly, watching his hand slide over the smooth surface. “I was still angry. I tripped, fell against it.” He could feel the jolt as his face connected just above the wheel well. “Then there were hands. They pushed me.”
He shuddered and almost pulled away when Sam touched him. Never cringe, never move. “They…fucked me right here.” His hand stopped moving, pressed against the cool metal. “I couldn’t move. Then everything was dark.”
Sam gathered him close, held him. He felt warm, safe. He hadn’t felt that in a very long time. It made him feel bold. He tilted his head up, his lips seeking Sam’s. The arms around him tightened and he raised his arms to reciprocate. “Let’s go inside.” Sam whispered, drawing him toward the door.
When the door was closed and locked, Sam’s hands unzipped Dean’s jacket, pulling it off and tossing it aside. “Tell me what you want, Dean. Anything you want.” Sam’s arms were around his waist, his lips painting Dean’s face with kisses.
“I want to please you.” It was an automatic response, drilled in to him. Fortunately this time he really meant it.
“Aside from that. What do you want…for you?” Sam’s kiss was deep, his tongue sliding over Dean’s before he pulled back.
Dean wasn’t sure he knew what Sam was asking him. He wasn’t sure he knew how to answer. “Anything at all…first thing that pops into your mind.” Sam whispered.
Dean tilted his head as Sam’s mouth moved down to his neck, giving him more room, more neck to kiss. “Rules.”
It startled them both and Sam backed off enough to lead them over to the bed. “What kind of rules, Dean?”
He swallowed. “If I belong to you, there should be rules. You change the rules…the ones I know…it makes me uncomfortable.”
Sam nodded, but looked uncomfortable himself now. “Like…wearing clothes?” His eyes sought out Dean’s. “Like arousal and the kneeling?”
“I don’t know what to do sometimes.” Dean hated the way his stomach twisted when Sam looked at him like that…with the pity and the hints of disgust. “I’m trying, Sam, to remember how to be…what I used to be…but I’m not him anymore…I’m not.”
“Shh…it’s okay Dean. I understand. Really.” He kissed Dean softly and held his face. “Let’s start with the clothes thing. Unless we’re going to bed or I tell you otherwise, you wear underwear at least. Okay?”
Dean nodded. “Yes. Okay.”
“Good. And…I want you…I want you to be aroused when I touch you Dean…when we’re intimate…you don’t need permission to show me if you want me.” His hand slid between Dean’s thighs, pressing inward. “I like that I turn you on. Do you remember, Dean?”
He felt panic as Sam’s fingers played along the seam of the jeans. Months he’d worn the contraption that kept him limp, until he’d learned how to control himself…until he could have his prostrate stroked repeatedly without reaction….until he was nothing more than a tool. “Sam.” He couldn’t pull away.
He’d woken up once with an erection after the thing came off and he’d been beaten severely. “Sam, please.”
Sam’s hand stopped. “It’s okay Dean.”
Dean shook his head. “Not…not like this.”
“Like what?”
“Please Sam…let me…maybe if you let me…” He swallowed and tried to shake it off. He remembered he used to be more straightforward. “I want to come while you fuck me.”
Sam stared at him for a minute, then grinned. “That’s my Dean.” He kissed him, hard and wet and sloppy. “That, we can do.”
Dean smiled too, happy to see Sam smile, happy to earn that joy. “May I undress for you?”
The smile faded just a little, then Sam shook his head. “No. I want to do it. Just stand there.”
Sam shed his jacket, then his shirt before moving over to Dean. His hands slipped over bare arms, up under the sleeves of the t-shirt, before sliding down and gripping the material just above Dean’s waist. He tugged and the shirt came loose from the jeans. “The first time I did this…you were twenty. You were hurt, dislocated your shoulder.” His hands moved up under the shirt, caressing Dean’s skin as he moved the material upward.
Dean felt lips press against his back. He lifted his arms as Sam pulled the shirt up further and Sam pressed his warm chest against Dean’s back. “I kissed every inch of you that night.” The t-shirt was bunched up in Sam’s hands as he pulled Dean closer, off balance. His mouth moved over Dean’s ear, down to the hollow just behind it, his tongue dipping in to touch his skin. “Learned I loved the taste of you.”
Sam tossed the t-shirt aside, his hands gliding over Dean’s stomach and down to his jeans. Dean was already starting to get hard, despite his fear, because Sam wanted it and Sam was working so hard…and it was good…Sam’s hand was down inside his pants and Dean closed his eyes. “Please Sammy…”
“Yeah, baby…” His long fingers slid up and out, popping the button and pulling the zipper before he kissed his way down Dean’s spine, pulling at his jeans as he went. Dean swayed a little on his feet as Sam kissed and licked his way up over Dean’s ass, then moved around so that he was squatting in front of him. “Step out, Dean.” Sam murmured.
Dean stepped free of the puddle of denim. Sam kissed Dean’s thighs, licking his way over hip bones and dipping into his navel until Dean moaned in spite of himself. He could feel Sam’s smile against the skin of his stomach. “You always were sensitive there.”
“Sam…please…want to…”
Sam was standing now, his hand closing over Dean’s cock, stroking it as he kissed him. “Mine, Dean. You belong to me…always…”
Dean gasped into Sam’s mouth, the pleasure of the words stronger than the feeling of his dick in Sam’s hands. “On the bed, Dean.”
“Yes…” Dean was already panting, but he moved, crawling up on the bed, kneeling, offering himself. “Please…Sam…want you inside me.”
Sam’s hand was on his back, sliding down over his ass. “No, Dean…not like that. I want to see you…on your back.”
Dean hesitated…then slowly did as he was told, looking up as Sam peeled off his jeans. Dean could feel his cock against his belly, his ass clenching and unclenching. “May I…prep…should I…?” His hand moved under him, ready to open himself, but Sam shook his head.
“I’ll do it. Spread your legs for me Dean.”
Sam’s body was firm, strong, and his cock was hard and red as he climbed up onto the bed, easing between Dean’s thighs. His tongue slid over tense muscles as his hands moved Dean’s legs, bending the knees, planting his feet into the mattress. “Grab hold of the head board Dean. Hold on and don’t let go. I’m going to make this so good for you.”
He kissed his way down Dean’s thighs, his hands sliding under him to caress his ass, slowly working a finger closer to his hole. He wasn’t tight anymore, not like he’d been when they’d first taken him, and Sam’s one finger slid in easily without much resistance. Dean bucked as Sam pressed on his prostate, despite training…his cock twitched and Sam grinned. “Like that?”
“Sam…” It was almost a growl and Dean recoiled inwardly, but Sam licked up the underside of his cock and he lost track of what he was supposed to be doing. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and his legs fell open more.
A second finger joined the first and a third, filling him, stretching him. It was so much different when than his own fingers, so much more. Sam pulled his hand away leaving Dean aching and open and whimpering. He couldn’t have stopped the sounds pouring from his mouth if there had been a handler with a whip standing over him.
Sam’s cock slid in as if he was made just to fit inside him. Sam groaned as his balls connected with Dean’s ass, laying himself over Dean and kissing him deeply. “So beautiful.” Sam whispered. His first thrusts were slow, pulling nearly out before pushing back in, his hands touching, his fingers leaving electric fire in their wake. Dean’s cock was trapped between them, wanting…waiting..
Sam shifted so that his knees were under him, lifting Dean’s ass off the mattress as he increased his pace and reached for Dean’s cock. “Is this good, Dean?”
“Yours Sam.” Dean responded, though he knew it wasn’t exactly what Sam wanted…for the moment it was all he had…he grunted as Sam’s fist tightened and turned and his cock swelled in response. “Yours…yours…Sam…”
It was all he knew right that moment, and endless stream of “yours” and “Sam” and “please”…
“Come for me, baby…want to see you come.” Sam whispered and Dean arched up, spilling himself over Sam’s hand and onto his stomach. “So hot…so beautiful.”
Sam thrust in hard once, twice, then he was filling Dean and Dean let himself fall against the mattress, relief flooding his body. Sam slipped out of him, leaned forward to lick the come up off of Dean’s stomach before kissing him, sharing the taste as his hands caressed up Dean’s arms to his hands. “Let go…it’s okay.”
Sam rolled them to their sides, pulling Dean close to him. “Are you all right?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“I love you Dean. Always.”
It was hardest when Sam left him alone, which admittedly wasn’t often. Without commands, without instruction, Dean was left to his own devices. Sam had been gone for more than an hour, and Dean set about straightening the room, organizing his brother’s clothes, and at the bottom of his duffle he found something familiar.
His hand closed around it and pulled it from the bag, rolling it in his hands before moving to the table with it. He unrolled it, laying out the cloth on the table and setting out the tools carefully. This was familiar, like chewing gum or the smell of leather. He pulled the gun out from under Sam’s pillow and stripped it down, setting out the pieces and carefully examining each one before cleaning it and setting it back on the cloth.
He was nearly finished when the door opened and Sam smiled at him. He remembered that smile too…it made him warm inside. “Hey.”
Dean smiled awkwardly. “I…needed something to do.”
“It’s okay Dean. It’s good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Hey…I, um…I got you something while I was out.”
Sam set the grocery bags on the bed and reached into his pocket for a small package. He came and sat at the table, taking Dean’s hands away from the gun and holding them. “I have a confession to make, and I don’t want it to upset you. Okay? Just hear me through before you react.”
Dean was surprised to see Sam was nervous. “Every time I see that collar, Dean, I think of you in that place…and it’s driving me crazy. I know it means something to you…and I don’t want you to think you aren’t good enough or that I don’t want you…but I can’t look at it anymore.”
Sam reached up to touch it and Dean ducked his head dutifully. “So…I bought you something to replace it.” Sam pulled his hands free and opened the box. Inside, coiled around itself was a leather choker, smaller, thinner than the one he wore. “That collar marked you a slave, Dean…this one…this one marks you as mine…my…Dean. It means I’ll always protect you, I’ll always take care of you…that you’ll never be alone.”
He held it up between them and Dean’s eyes fixed on it, ignoring the tears that burned in his eyes. “Will you wear this one for me?” Sam asked, his voice small and soft. “Be mine forever?”
Dean couldn’t look at him, but he nodded, bowing his head to give Sam room to maneuver the buckle of the collar. It came off in his hands and for the first time, it’s absence didn’t make him feel like nothing…like he was worthless. Instead, as Sam slipped the supple leather of the new collar on him, it felt like maybe he was something after all.