Fanfic - SPN: Promises (Sam/Dean)

[writingbyebonio]

Title: Promises [Evil!Sammy Universe]
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester
Prompt: 097. Uncomfortable. For 100moods, challenge table here. As well as: 29. Submissive. For 50kinkyways, challenge table here.
Word Count: ~800 words.
Rating: NC-17 for language and sexuality.
Warnings/Spoilers: Angst. Dark. Future. Apocalypse. Slash. Wincest. Manipulation. Dubious-Con. Graphic m/m sex. Kink/BDSM. Smut. Dreams. Potential vague spoilers for Season 1 and "In My Time of Dying".
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: Dean's first taste of willing submission.
Author's Notes: This story follows directly after Bury the Hunter (Sam/Dean) as a kind of epilogue and is also a kind of prologue to Training Day (Sam/Dean). For more info about my Evil!Sammy Universe, including links to all installments, please go here.



He rolled over on the motel bed.

"Hey." Sam was already awake, smiling at him, lit by a glow in the room from some lamp Dean couldn't see.

"Hey yourself." Dean smiled back, so relaxed and warm, not sleepy, just rested, content.

Sam reached out a hand to sweep over Dean's cheek, slowly, a gesture of comfort. "How're you holding up?"

He leaned into his brother's hand, not hot, just warm, rough with calluses from Hunting, but somehow still soft. "Not too good, Sammy."

Sam just nodded, continuing his comforting caress.

"I … I miss you."

Sam gave a half-laugh. "Not that you'd ever say that."

His smile fell. "No one to tell."

Sam nodded solemnly. "I know."

"He's not … not you … not anymore."

"But he could be, again."

"You really believe that?"

"You do."

"I don't know how not to."

"Then you'll find a way."

Dean scoffed, bitter. "Like with Dad?"

"Dad made his choice. I wouldn't have chosen this. You know that."

"Do I?"

Dean.

"He's calling you."

"I could stay."

Sam shook his head, amused, sad. "I'm not any more what you need than he is."

He knew it was true, but that didn't make leaving any easier. "Will I see you again?"

"Dude, they're your dreams. If you want me here, I'm sure you'll find me."

Dean.

"You'd better go."

"Yeah. But I'll be back. Or I'll get you back. I promise, Sammy."

He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he was sore, and tired, and not-his-Sam was whispering over his ear, his hand traveling over Dean's body.

"Dean, you're awake. Good. I want you to come for me before breakfast." Sam's hand slipped down to fit over Dean's morning wood.

He felt a wave of nausea roll through him. This Sam was such a perversion of everything good about his Sammy. It disgusted him that Sam had absolutely no qualms about making him into some kind of fuck-and-play doll who would come on command for entertainment purposes. He opened his mouth to say no, to tell Sam to stop, but then he snapped it shut again.

He'd chosen this.

When given the choice between drugs or death or surrender, he'd waved the white flag. Of course, Sam would want to make sure that he followed through with his promises, make sure that he even could. He tried to settle the sickness rumbling in his stomach, letting go of some of the tension he was holding. Sam wasn't even asking for much right now. Dean knew that would come later. But for now, was it really so bad to wake up to a hand job, even if he wasn't given any say in the matter?

Sam's stroke was bringing him so close to climax, he could taste his own desires, his own needs, but this time they were all his, all natural. And just as he was about to come, Sam clamped down at the base of his dick and he could feel all the need building up almost to bursting.

"Beg for what you want, Dean, and maybe I'll be generous."

He stifled a laugh, shaking his head. Nothing was just an uncomplicated fuck with Sam anymore. He always wanted to demonstrate his dominance.

But it didn't really matter what Dean thought of his brother's love of power right then. And it might never matter. He had surrendered, said he would give Sam what he wanted, give it to him willingly. Down other paths lay pain and madness, but all of them stamped Dean as property of Sam Winchester. He no longer had rights to his own body, so Sam still wasn't asking for much. Begging was just one more thing he'd have to grit his teeth and bear. Sam's ownership of him wasn't just going to go away.

"Please … sir … may I come now?"

Sam tugged over his cock a few more times, hard, and Dean just knew that he wouldn't last long.

"Please."

His hips were pumping up into Sam's fist and he could feel the first tremors of a lazy morning orgasm begin to spread throughout his body.

"Please!"

"Yeah. Do it."

And Dean let himself go, panting and falling into the sweep of pleasure rushing through him, his come hot and slick on Sam's hand, his belly, and the bed.

"See, Dean. That wasn't so hard. You do know how to be a good whore, how to respect your owner, how to do as your told. You keep being a good boy and I'll only hurt you when it's sexy. I promise."

It wasn't much. But it had to be better than the drugs, and better than death. It just had to be.

Comments

[writingbyebonio.livejournal.com]

LOL. No worries. It made me sniffle a bit in the writing as well. It's an emotional situation they're in. Glad it affected you, though.

[rustyryan.livejournal.com]

Came back to this to see if you'd written more 4 years later.

Once again, the dream made me cry. I don't even watch the show anymore.

This 'verse was/is amazing.