Fanfic - SPN: Eager - Ch. 6 - Stay

[writingbyebonio]

Title: Eager [Evil!Sammy Universe]
Author: eboniorchid
Full Header for the Series

Chapter Six: Stay

By the time Sam had shucked his pants again and pulled his brother back up to standing, Dean felt dazed, the excess of blood in his brain throbbing as his body throbbed around the needles and the plug. He was grateful, though, when Sam dragged him into the bathroom with an arm around his waist instead of a hand on the needled reins. Sam even let him lean against the counter when he moved to take a leak and Dean closed his eyes against the brightness of the lighting as the throb faded a little but never enough. All his mind could process right then was how much he ached and where all the aches were.

Being maneuvered into Sam's arms again made Dean's eyelids flutter, still not really wanting to be open, but he tried to be compliant, to be good, and let Sam guide him away from the counter, his body swaying slightly as Sam positioned himself behind him. Then there was a hand lifting and holding his cock and he leaned back against his brother, exhausted even just by the thought of being made to come again, not to mention the way his legs and the rest of his body were fighting to keep him upright even with the very central wheel of hurt turning inside him.

"I don't think I'm ready yet." He drawled words that weren't quite true, but they sounded better than saying 'please not again' when the thing he didn't want to do again right then was orgasm.

"That's not what I'm asking for, Dean. Just piss."

"What?" Dean dropped his head back onto Sam's shoulder and dragged his eyes half-open. He knew that he could do with some sleep to offset his growing exhaustion, so he must have misheard.

"I said … 'piss'."

Despite the coaxing tone of Sam's voice, Dean all but snapped to attention, eyes wide open and wary as he stood up straighter, pulling away. "Not with you holding my dick."

"Stay." Sam gave Dean's cock a squeeze and his free hand wrapped itself tightly in the threaded leash, bringing Dean's back flush against him again. "Obey."

"I can do this myself." He knew that wasn't the point, but he wasn't sure quite what the point was.

"It's not about what you can do. It's about what I want you to do. So, you can do it this way or you can hold it until you wet my floor like a poorly trained dog."

Dean found himself breathing hard, as if figuring Sam out was an athletic activity. "But this isn't even- …"

"Are you gonna make me regret taking those needles out? Because I don't want to think that you're unteachable, but you're not making it easy for me. We shouldn't have to go over this every time I give you an order." Sam took in a long sweep of air, letting it go in a tired exhale. "You should know who this body belongs to and how to obey. You don't need to ask questions. You just need to do as you're told. This is not complicated."

Dean opened his mouth, but he clamped it shut again because this wasn't about pain and he wasn't sure that he wanted to bring more pain onto his plate by resisting this. Sam didn't even seem to be making it into something particularly humiliating, so ... what was he fighting about really? Was it worth earning new needles for?

Sam gave the leash a short tug and Dean swallowed, knowing this was the least of his problems, so he just tried to settle back against his brother again and relax into Sam's new bit of strangeness. It felt weird, though, perhaps even more bizarre because the weirdness didn't make the new act all bad. Dean just breathed deep and let his eyes close, working to overcome his body's tentativeness and give up control, the eventual flow of liquid seeming dirty and freeing at the same time. Of course, it didn't hurt that Sam did more than just shake him off when he was through, a few extra tugs and a sweeping thumb making Dean tense and relax in a wholly different way.

"I thought you weren't ready yet." There was something sultry in Sam's voice that forced the air from Dean's lungs, but Sam's lips were stroking over his neck before he could even begin to form a response.

In the haze of distraction that was quickly becoming interest, Dean let himself be maneuvered back to the counter, focusing more on his brother's mouth than the sound of the taps turning on. He could've sworn that Sam's hands were wrapping around his for nefarious purposes, his mind teasing his body with the imagined feel of both of their hands stroking him off, cupping his balls. Their hands didn't stay low, though, and he blinked his eyes open as he felt Sam slide them under the water and begin to wash them. There was a part of him that wanted to pull back, to be somehow offended that Sam was treating him like some kind of kid, but … Sam wasn't acting like it was about that at all. It was more like- ... like the way Dean remembered washing his car, gentle and devoted, but … it was hard to reconcile that with everything else. The thought was sobering enough to keep his mind churning until Sam had cleaned them both up, dried their hands, and stepped away.

Dean followed him curiously with his eyes as he turned away from the sink. "When you were talking to those servant guys about their birthday and you said you were gonna give them something … 'nice' … did you mean me?"

Sam's eyes moved distractedly, but corners of his lips fell as he paused in his backwards inching towards the door. "I don't know if you really classify as something 'nice' right now, Dean. Maybe by April, but I'm trying not to get my hopes up."

"You know that's not what I'm asking."

"No, of course not." Sam let out a soft sigh as his eyes settled on Dean, almost reluctantly. "You want to know if I would loan my personal whore out to my staff in lieu of some other kind of gift."

Dean nodded with a slight shrug. "Yeah."

Sam breathed in deeply and stepped in close, his looming presence more than his body pushing Dean back into the wall between the toilet and the counter. "We talked about this earlier, Dean. I have the right to do whatever I want with my property. Loan it out. Rent it out. Give it away permanently. Sell it. Anything. That's what ownership means."

Dean knew that, even if it still hurt to hear, but what he didn't know was whether or not Sam would actually do any of that or if those threats were even half empty. "But would you do it?"

Sam's hand slid up to thread through Dean's hair and his eyes locked intensely on Dean's. "I think it could be really hot to watch you getting filled by two nearly-twin dicks. They're nice looking guys, Dean, and their way of … communicating … would make it a pretty unique experience, I bet."

"I don't care." Dean shook his head, trying to peel away the layers of Sam's nonchalance and get to the reality underneath. "Would you do it?"

Sam let his tongue roll over his lips, head angled, considering the question. "Are you telling me that you've never had sex while someone was watching?"

Dean's reply was huffed and frustrated. "Sam, come on. That's not fair. Can you just give me a straight answer?"

A smile slowly crept up on Sam's face until all his teeth were in view.

"What?"

"What what?" Sam's expression was alternating between a mock seriousness and a thoroughly amused grin.

"What- … What?" Dean could feel his forehead wrinkle up as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

Sam's laughter rang around them even as his smile slid back into something less about fun and more about conquest. "Fair doesn't really matter here. Different rules, remember?" Sam just waited for a moment, patient as if he knew the light bulb would pop on over Dean's head any minute now and it did.

Brothers. Somehow the strangeness of the topic had fallen away and Dean had approached Sam like they were just … brothers … but they weren't really brothers like that anymore.

Sam nodded as he watched Dean blink through his realization. "I know you're new to this, but … Whore." Sam pointed to Dean. "Owner." Sam pointed to himself. "It doesn't matter what's fair or not or who says what first or who's older or anything like that. All that matters is this, right here. … Whore." Sam pressed a finger into Dean's chest. "Owner." Sam set that finger on his own chest. "So … whore … answer the question."

Dean's eyelids fluttered as he took a staggered breath, but he forced himself not to look away as he answered. "Yeah … I have. Not a lot, but … it's happened."

"Of course it did. And, just guessing from your little performance out there, I'm betting you liked it a lot. Didn't you, whore?"

"No- … I dunno. I wasn't really paying attention most of the time. People were just … around."

"Ah. So you were too drunk or high or just too fucking horny to care one way or the other."

Dean's voice stalled on its way out of his mouth, but he didn't really have a better answer. "… I guess."

"So what's the difference now?"

"First off?" Dean huffed because he shouldn't have to explain this … again, it felt like. "The who, what, where, when, and how wouldn't be my choice, which is a pretty big fucking deal, and- … and I'll know that you're watching me … with other guys. That's- …"

"You think it'll be the first time … whore?" Sam's voice was a little louder now, his face a bit flushed.

Dean's breath stopped with his shock and there was a guttural pop when he released it. "You- you've seen me? With other guys?"

"You've never been good with keeping your fucks a secret, Dean. Especially not when you have to drink yourself stupid before you let them touch you."

"It's not like it happened that often."

"Often enough."

"We weren't even- …"

"What, Dean? We weren't even what? Together? Is that what you were going to say? Because if we weren't together, it was all on you. It sure wasn't anything I agreed to. … Oh wait, we never talked about it. You never said 'we're done' or 'no more'. You never said anything. You just pulled away. So … sure. We weren't anything according to you."

Dean watched the edge building in his brother's eyes, the sternness in his lips, and wondered how he'd missed it before. "Is that what this is about, Sam? … Are you pissed about me fucking around after Dad died?"

"What? That's not- ..." Sam's emotions went into a full stop, complete confusion clouding his features, though it was chased away by a kind of neutral thoughtfulness. "Oh. … No. I mean … I knew something was up and you had … patterns … so sometimes I followed you. I saw some things, sure … but I knew that wasn't really what you wanted … and when you told me I was part Fallen after all that pulling away, it all kind of made sense … at least, in the fucked up way your brain works anyway." Sam leaned in, his lips set against Dean's cheek as he spoke very softly but with a frightening level of intensity. "You don't have to run anymore, Dean."

"What does that mean?" It was almost a whisper, his voice fluttering with the worries in the back of his mind.

"You don't have to worry about me anymore. You're not going to break me or taint me or anything else that held you back before. You're lucky. ... 'Brother'? … 'Demon'? … None of that matters anymore. … 'Owner' trumps both of them because you're a whore now. So … this is what you've been wanting, Dean. It's just on my terms and not yours, never yours. You have to adapt to me, learn the new rules."

"And what if I don't?" Even if Sam was right about Dean's worries - and that was a very big 'if' - that didn't mean Dean would tolerate their new situation just because those worries were theoretically off the table, especially since that only seemed to mean that he had a ton of new things to worry about.

"That would be ... unwise." Sam shifted to rub his cheek (and anything else he could manage) against Dean and Dean's stomach shivered as if he was quietly being marked by a mountain lion. "It may not be exactly the way you wanted things, but it's as close as you're gonna get, so … I can't let you spoil that … for either of us." Sam's lips found the inner curve of Dean's ear, pressing a soft kiss there as he breathed through his final words. "Let's just say that if you keep trying to run from this … then I may have to break your legs. … You understand that, don't you?"

Dean's lungs seemed to spasm in his chest as he fought to contain the trembling that seemed intent on shaking him apart, but he nodded mutely and slowly, as if too much sound or movement would trigger an attack.

"Good boy."

Dean nearly stumbled as Sam took up the leash again and pulled away, turning to drag him out of the bathroom. He worked to keep up, though, only stopping when they reached Sam's chair by the table. The other chair was further away than the leash would allow, but he was unsure if he should make a habit of assumed kneeling. When Sam slid into his own seat, however, he quickly reached up, intending to pull Dean down with him.

"Sit in my lap."

"What?!" There were a lot of things he could overlook or even rationalize from within his spotty understanding of his brother's current thought process, but this?

"Straddle my leg and sit back. I'll let you beg to kneel later." Sam's expression of total calm was almost hypnotizing as he wrapped more of the needle-laden threads around his hand until Dean no longer had enough slack to kneel. "Get on."

Dean stood for a moment longer but a swift tug from the leash got him moving and he was soon stepping over and sinking down onto Sam's left leg with no small amount of concern. The moment he tried to settle, even precariously, on Sam's leg, he knew exactly why his brother wanted him like that.

"I can't." He bent forward and pulled up as soon as he'd sat down, but Sam didn't let him get far, yanking him back down with a tight hold on the leash and a crushing grip at his waist. Dean groaned mournfully, his fingers scrabbling for the edge of the table to redistribute some of his weight as the plug between his spread legs became the fulcrum point of his teetering, a searing ache that Sam intensified with subtle shifts of his leg.

"Take your hands off the table. I know you can balance just fine." Sam's grip tightened in both essential spots and he let the heat of his power flare, sparking up Dean's back like flecks of hot ash scattered from a fire. "Besides ... I like to watch you squirm and I could do with some entertainment while I'm eating. You want to please me, don't you, whore?"

Dean righted himself slowly, his hands moving from the table to his thighs and he closed his eyes as if the hurt spearing its way up from below could be held back if he just concentrated hard enough. "I thought this isn't about what I want."

"Technically, but have you already forgotten the game that won you your rewards?"

He shook his head, resigned and mostly to himself, but the feel of Sam's hand shifting downwards from his waist made him speak even as he cringed. "No, sir. ... I want to please you."

"Of course you do." Sam sighed into the words, seeming less than convinced, and reached for a fork as he squeezed Dean's thigh.

Settling in for the long haul, Dean looked down at a spread of food that the man he used to be would have gorged himself on and all he felt was relief that Sam was eating first. It wasn't easy maintaining his equilibrium as Sam's leg swayed, lifted, and lowered, but he survived and when food was lifted his way, he ate dutifully and without complaint, the tight stretch of thread and the heated rub of his brother's hand keeping him rooted in his status. By dessert he could tell that Sam was getting tired, though, and he couldn't decide if he should prolong his straddling torture to let his weight become its own torture on his brother. He gave up on the idea as soon as it came to him, though, and begged to kneel like his brother had said he would, knowing that Sam would agree to it now.

Not long after Dean had found a semi-comfortable position on the floor, Sam swiveled to look down at him. "You know I'm bored, right?"

Sam did look bored, but Dean wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do about that. "So ..."

"So, I was thinking that maybe I need to make this more interesting."

Dean willed himself not to flinch at the sinister smile that curved its way onto Sam's lips. "You mean 'more painful'."

"That's one way, yes, but it seems a shame that the property I bought to please me isn't very pleasing."

Dean's eyes fell to the leg of the table, but immediately disliked himself for it, flipping them back up to look at Sam defiantly. "I've been doing what you wanted me to do."

"Hardly. Easy is not the same as eager, whore." Sam scooped up some mousse on his finger and offered it to Dean with an expectant hitch in his eyebrow. "Make me want to fuck you more than I want to bleed you."

Looking at the chocolate-covered digit, Dean shivered even as he felt something in his body warm, competing interests making him hesitate.

"What is your mouth for?"

Dean blinked and it felt like the air in his throat choked him. The room swam until he was looking up into dark eyes, moaning around a thumb in his mouth as a cock filled him up from behind. He fought the images that didn't fit his reality, double-blinking until the moment of confusion made him shift, as if he could flee the mash of desire and disgust. The plug knocked deeper inside him and the altered ache of it brought him back to the suite, his brother, and the floor by the dinner table.

"I know this looks familiar, whore. What is your mouth for?"

Dean's vision cleared, but he couldn't lift his eyes to his brother as the words gnawed at him, heavy and toxic. "For- … for pleasing you, sir."

"Show me."

Dean swallowed the shudder that wanted to rise in the heat of Sam's voice, but then he breathed himself into some semblance of a wanton state, his eyelids half mast as he set his mouth to his owner's hand like an eager whore, eager to not hurt anymore at least and maybe eager for more than he'd allow himself to believe. He licked Sam's finger like he'd licked his cock, sucking like the tip would yield come for him to collect, show, and drink. He worked to hold back his anxiety as he pulled off and glanced up at his brother, lips parted and wet. "More?"

"Ask nicely."

His lips twitched downward, but Sam rapidly returned to wrangler, his fist twisting in wound thread as Dean's words tumbled out with a yank. "May I please have some more, sir?"

Dean took the new offering after Sam had tipped it in mousse, Sam's middle finger sliding over his tongue until it was warm and clean. There was a pause when he was through, though, and he lingered with his lips near Sam's hand until he could muster the courage to do the necessary, sucking Sam's ring finger then pinky into his mouth like they were little dicks needing extra attention. He pulled away only to slide his lips down and press them to Sam's palm, almost deferentially, as if one act of devotion could save him even amidst all his resistance.

Sam slid his hand to cup Dean's chin, his voice all at once steamy and cruel. "You know, one of these days, I'm gonna fuck you with my whole hand."

Dean shuddered, half desire, half fear, at the thought of his brother being arm-deep inside him. It didn't help that his eyes were caught up in the sight of Sam's thighs and the swell of his cock, knowing what would come next.

"Why don't we finish up dessert on the bed, huh?" Sam pulled him up to standing, bowl of mousse in hand, and dragged him over to the side of the bed that was free from clothes and medical supplies. Instead of ordering Dean into some open position, though, Sam climbed up and lay back himself. "Get on and show me just how eager you are, whore."

Dean's first thought was to just 'get on' in the most literal sense and he climbed onto Sam's abdomen unceremoniously, intent to do exactly that. A strong, slow pull on his attached reins made him stop, though, midway through his almost absentminded shifting to reach behind him for the base of the plug.

"Not yet."

"You said- …"

Sam's wrangling hand dipped so he could brush his fingers over Dean's soft cock. "You call this 'eager', whore?"

Dean watched his brother, knowing that he couldn't - but did - mean for him to get hard, basically on command and little else.

"What? Can you only get hard when you're literally on the bottom?" Sam tipped his head to one side, eyes cold. "I mean, you get hard for me on your knees with a dick in your mouth … bent over and pried open … on your back with your legs spread … on all fours like a dog. … Right, whore?"

Dean's eyes slipped away and he wished that he could bring them back up, level with his brother's, but he was remembering the vantage point from each of those positions, the ache of a cock straining his mouth, stretching his ass, and he could feel the frustration and shame that went with begging to come, begging like he was drowning and orgasms were air.

"Good boy."

The words slid into Dean's thought space and he felt his eyebrows bunch, but then he looked down and could see the way his cock was twitching to life, the increased sensitivity fading in as Sam's thread-wrapped knuckles slid against him.

"I'll let you fuck yourself on my cock when you show me how much you want it … and not a moment before then."

Dean nodded, somewhat distracted, even though he knew he should have more to say on the matter. Fucking was the endgame, however, the probable goal of the evening, so the faster he could get to that point, the faster he could be done. For tonight, at least. He kept his eyes on his cock and Sam's hand, swallowing as he tried to turn his memories and current aches into desire enough to drive him. His right hand shifted towards his cock, thinking to hurry the process, but Sam batted it away.

"You don't touch my property for sexual reasons unless I say so."

Dean's jaw tightened, nostrils flaring at all the maze-like rules and regulations that seemed to complicate things needlessly here. "Then how am I- …"

"Beg with your body." There was a heated simplicity to Sam's words that made Dean's breath shake, understanding that the friction and glide of his body against his brother's was supposed to spur his passion. "And don't forget dessert."

Dean let his eyes flit to the mousse, half an arm's length away, as it jostled from Sam's shifting under him. He found himself shaking his head because he could see the parameters of this part of the game, but he just wasn't sure that he could be that creative, especially not on command like this.

"I don't mind the needles."

Dean blinked, looking up at Sam. "What?"

"Isn't that what you're trying to figure out? 'Cause I don't care if you prick me. I'd rather bleed than not have a good time."

Dean's words came out unsteady and anxious, almost laughing. "I hadn't even gotten there yet."

Sam's hand wrapped at the nape of Dean's neck, making him shiver in a not-all-bad kind of way. "It's easier when I tell you what to do, isn't it?"

"No." It was more instinct than truth.

"But you're sitting there - kneeling there - lost, unsure what to do. Maybe you haven't been here long enough to learn what things I like yet. Do you want me to tell you what to do?" Sam was stroking Dean's neck, calming twittering nerves with his modulated voice and his so-sensible but so-wrong ideas.

"No. I- …"

"You what? You don't need me? You can figure out what I want on your own? You … aren't worried that you'll fuck up and I'll triple your needle count and your whipping tab? You what, whore?"

"I- … I dunno." His intake of breath signaled his distress, though he'd never name it that way. He felt like an idiot, like the first time Dad had taken him for target practice in the woods and yelled at him for not loading up properly, like he hadn't been listening and couldn't get anything right. No good.

"Scoot back."

Dean didn't hesitate to move back, settling into a straddle across Sam's thighs as the soft of his cock brushed against his brother's hard one.

Sam reached out and let his fingers and thumb skim through the top of the dessert, lifting a hand heavy with mousse up in front of Dean. "Show me that trick with your mouth again, whore."

Dean exhaled slowly, but he knew he didn't have a choice or any alternative ideas, so he just blocked thought from his mind and focused on any and everything tactile as he went to work, dragging his tongue up from the base of Sam's thumb to its tip. He sucked it clean, then moved to the next finger, his cheeks smearing with chocolate and spit as each slide of his lips, down and up, matched the way Sam's hips rocked their cocks together. He found himself panting as he leaned forward, increasing the friction for his hardening cock, and he closed his eyes, turning the side of his face into his brother's hand and rubbing himself there like he remembered Sam doing to him. Then he turned back to lap at the chocolate that he'd rubbed into Sam's palm.

"Fuck." Sam's word was a frustrated groan as he snatched his hand away, only to grip the back of Dean's neck again, yanking him down until Dean could feel the ache of metal pressed between bodies as the needles pulled and poked at his skin and scraped against his brother. He almost forgot, though, when the heat of Sam's mouth combined with the wet of his tongue to sweep away the remaining mousse on his cheek.

Shuddering, Dean fucked down against his brother harder, feeling both of their breaths stutter. Sam stole his breath before he could catch up, though, their lips ground together as Sam took what he wanted from the tastes swirling in Dean's mouth. As Sam pulled back for a moment, Dean could only just make out the words "want you" and "open" in amongst the groans rumbling against his lips. When Sam growled "beg," though, and his free hand moved to grip the left half of Dean's ass, spreading him open enough to make the plug strain inside him, Dean put the words together.

He untangled his lips from Sam's and mumbled, aroused but ashamed. "Please fuck me."

Sam's fingers strummed down the cleft of his ass, his voice gruff. "Your hole is full up like a whore. Can't fuck when you're already full."

Dean shivered at Sam's touch and the clear hint to specify. "May I … please take out the plug, sir?"

"Why?" The word came out slowly, seductive and smug.

Beg. Dirty. "Because I … want to feel your cock in me." His breathing rushed his words over his brother's lips.

"Why should that matter to me, whore?"

With a stuttered and shapeless noise, Dean felt some ego-based safety mechanism topple as Sam's hand shifted to tap and twist the base of the plug. "Because I … want to make you come."

"Where?"

The tone of the word made Dean's brain fizzle as he blinked, vision blurring as if he was trying to see two places at once. Sam under, in front, and behind him. He shook his head, but didn't fight the movements of his mouth as it spilled words that were already on his tongue, deposited there from the back of his mind. "In my ass. I- … I want you to … come in my ass. Please … sir."

"Then take out the plug, whore."

Dean closed his eyes as he nodded, calming the mix of images as one hand groped its way to a pillow to support him and the other reached behind him, brushing Sam's hand as he grabbed the plug and started to slowly tug it out. The ripple of sensations as his body adjusted to the plug's absence had him breathing hard when he finally tossed it onto the floor. Sam released his grip on Dean's head and Dean straightened and slid up to straddle his brother's stomach. A part of him wanted to deny interest, to make Sam work harder, but the rub of Sam's cock against his ass made breathing feel like a chore, let alone anything more than that.

"Put it in." Sam seemed so lucid, almost stoic, despite the length of evident interest knocking solidly at Dean's backdoor.

Dean was in no rush, though. "Don't I need some- …"

"You want my dick in you bad enough to take a little pain for me, don't you, whore?"

Dean licked his lips, eyelashes batting in a sort of nod, before he reached back with a quick inhale to position Sam's cock and press himself slowly onto it. It was narrower than the plug but warm and throbbing, the leftover ache and the friction of too-little lube intensifying the feeling of movement as Dean let Sam bury himself deeper. Dean's moan cracked like a teenage boy from the unexpected twinge of pain that hit when he'd finally sunk all the way down on Sam's cock. Sam's hands were already at his hips, though, urging him up and pulling him down again, and Dean's own hands found Sam's chest, stabilizing his movements as he helped Sam fuck him, steady and deep.

He breathed in time with the shifting of his hips, trying to relax enough to let Sam fuck as deeply as he seemed intent to. The angle and his brother's insistence nearly had him convinced that Sam would somehow find a way to fuck into him and out the other side, but the makeshift leash swayed forgotten between them, so he tried his damndest to just ride this out until Sam was satisfied. Maybe there would even be enough satisfaction to go around.

Moments later, though, Sam's movements stalled and there was sweat at the edge of his hair as he panted out his words. "I'm doing too much work." Sam's eyes blinked from distracted to frighteningly focused. "Lean back."

Dean mechanically pushed himself up from bending, his hands finding his thighs even while he continued to watch his brother apprehensively.

"Further back. Put a hand down behind you."

Dean's nose wrinkled as he tried to figure out how this was going to work, but he repositioned himself, arching his back to accommodate the only somewhat awkward angle. When Sam ground up into him again and reclaimed his hold of the reins, Dean heard the pitch of his own startled noise and wasn't sure he would move away even if he hadn’t been told to 'stay'.

"Now, fuck yourself on my cock like a good little whore and we'll both have a good time."

Dean shuddered but lifted his hips, sinking down again with a moan as Sam rose to meet him. On the next repetition, though, Sam seemed to double his force, with both thrusting and pulling, and Dean's thoughts smashed like some porcelain hockey puck at the end of a heavy stick. He could've sworn he was being fucked in two and he couldn't reconcile the halves as one part of him flooded with pleasure while the other shook from the pain of pierced skin pulled taut. Sam didn't stop there, though, one set of nails digging into Dean's flank as his leash-entwined hand wrapped around Dean's cock, jacking him off haltingly as a stuttered echo of his rough thrusts. Dean could barely keep quiet for even a moment as he was stimulated and tormented from the back and the front, his pleasure points rubbed raw on both sides while rows of needles pulled at his sanity and his endorphins. Sam groaned and gasped under him like he could feel Dean's pleasure as well as his own, then he began to slam into Dean harder, his fingers tugging at their strings until Dean cried out, sure that he was being fucked apart and torn open.

A deep earthquake of a shudder began to build in his system despite his seeming verbal complaints and he began to lose his brother's moans under his own sounds. He was so caught up that when Sam's hand released his cock and the leash to grip the other side of his waist, he almost whined, grunting in frustration as Sam's orgasm slid its way home. The momentum of the pleasure continued to propel Sam's thrusts even as his eyes rolled back and fluttered closed. Then Sam all but collapsed, though, his hands sliding away, sweaty, to sag on the bed, and Dean was left panting, wanting, on the edge of begging again, this time of his own accord.

Slowly moving to right himself, Dean didn't even try to shake the need, hoping his owner would let him quench it. "Can I … please … ?" Fuck. He was such a whore. He could feel the ooze of come in his ass as Sam's cock shifted, but his own cock was still so hard and he wanted to come so bad, so fucking bad, even if it would mean jacking off just like this, with Sam's eyes on him and his hole stuffed full.

Sam's laugh was almost a yawn as he stretched. "Don't expect to come every time I fuck you, whore. You come when I want you to. Understand?"

"Come on, Sam- …" Dean halted as Sam's eyes flashed darkly, body heating instead of cooling down, and Dean let his gaze slide away, changing his tune. "Yes, sir."

He mumbled the right words, knowing the frustration of an unrealized orgasm was better than the feel of Sam's anger, but he couldn't help the way his body seemed to sink, weighted because he felt even more used now. It wasn't just about him only being good for sex anymore. Apparently, he wasn't even allowed to follow through with what little pleasure he could wring from it. Great.

"Oh … don't get pouty on me, whore. If you keep being a good little slut, maybe I'll get horny again later and let you come then."

Dean's jaw shifted, but he didn't say anything, keeping his eyes downcast as he tried to calm the need that had just moments before been threatening to explode. He slowed his breaths and his body stilled as if it was on pause and had no purpose without Sam's explicit directions. This was 'good' in Sam's eyes, balancing being eager with being nothing, and it was a lesson that Dean hated all the more because it was one that he could feel himself learning.

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