Fanfic - SPN: Eager - Ch. 5 - Please

[writingbyebonio]

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

Chapter Five: Please

A hint of a smile draped itself on Sam's lips before his expression became blank again, as if he'd selectively deleted all unnecessary displays of apparent emotion now that he'd gotten what he wanted. Those lips were on Dean's in the very next moment, though, and Dean was closing his eyes at the feel of them. He wanted to fall into the kiss, to let the soft of his brother's lips drive away the aches on the inside, but that wasn't what those lips were for anymore. It was Sam who had made him ache.

"Move."

After a kiss with half a heart in it, the word seemed almost unkind, but Sam just as easily could have shoved him out of the way. It still made Dean's stomach clench as he backed up on his knees to allow Sam room to stand. He stayed on the floor, though, watching his brother's legs move until Sam started wrestling with items in the medical kit again.

"Get up, Dean."

Dean stood up, but he knew that the tremor he felt was his body telling him that this shouldn't be happening. He'd begged, he'd been enthusiastic, he hadn't used his hands, and he'd said thank you at the end. He'd been good, hadn't he? So why was Sam reaching for more methods of torment?

"Face the bed."

He repositioned himself, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from Sam as he moved the medical disposal bin closer on the bed and straightened up, new alcohol wipes in hand. Dean felt his mouth form the start of 'please' then 'Sam', but he didn't say them. Sam would do whatever he wanted no matter what he said. That thought didn't keep him from shuddering, though, when Sam slipped around behind him and transferred a few crinkle-edged packets from his left hand to Dean's.

"Hold those for me, alright?" Sam breathed the words just behind Dean's ear as his hands slid to wrap right at Dean's hip bones, relaxed and easy.

Dean was tense, though, nodding and mute as his eyes shifted to stare blankly in front of him, out over the expanse of the bed and through the windows into the early evening outside. He should've begged more. He knew that. He should've remembered that from yesterday, should've made it dirtier, like- … like Sam liked. He should've been more animated from the start, should've just- … He should've remembered that Sam liked to really see and feel just how much he- … how much he … wanted it. Eager. Whore. He should've- …

"Do you wanna come, whore?"

Dean blinked himself back from wherever he'd been and he checked with his cock, glancing down but already knowing the answer - or, knowing that he didn't know the right answer. "Do you … want me to come … sir?" His cock wasn't especially excited by the prospect after listening to him wallow in should've-dones only moments before, but … if Sam wanted it, then he'd- … of course.

"I want you to show me how much you like pleasing your owner. I want you to jack off, slowly, and while you do that, I'll give you some of those rewards you've been working for. Make sense?"

When Dean nodded it felt like his head was doubly heavy, but he couldn't help the almost smiling gasp of relief that accompanied it. "May I have some lube … sir?" He tripped into 'sir', an afterthought that he knew couldn't be MIA if he were to keep the smile on his face, and he didn't even mind when Sam just said "spit".

Starting the slow glide of his hand on his cock almost shifted his mindset completely and he stretched, feeling the tug of the needles and strings, his brother's warmth both soothing and intimidating. When Sam reached up and around his left arm to pull out the first needle under his chest, Dean's breathing stuttered into a groan, but his fist moved faster at the feel of something leaving him, the ache of it increasing for a moment and then fading. The next one down, pulled from the row on the right, was like that too, a dying star, bursting with heat at the friction of metal rubbing flesh and then all but imploding and leaving him panting. He stroked his way to shuddering as Sam's hand moved lower, alternating between the right and left row for each successive pull. The fifth one made him shout as it finally came out, nearly yanked, his blood tripping down his stomach in barely a trickle but enough to catch on his thumb. It all made his voice crack with disbelief even as his body tensed on the verge of orgasm. The flash of Sam's grip, tight on his upper arm, halted him from carrying it through just yet, though.

"May I- … May I come, sir?" His breathing sounded like he was already in it, whooshing, loud and arrhythmic, in his ears. "Please … sir?"

"In a little while."

Dean stopped as quickly as he could get his muscles to respond, detaching his hand from his cock with a huff because he really had no other choice. His body was throbbing, shuddering, from his ass up his back, down the maze of needles in front, and through his cock and balls, but he wasn't allowed to come yet and he knew that. In trying to calm himself and ensure that he didn't spill even without manual guidance, he shook out his hand, focusing on the feel of his fingers flexing as his breathing slowed somewhat.

"Why'd you stop?"

"You said I couldn't- …"

"I said you couldn't come yet. … Keep going."

"But I'm gonna- …"

"No, you're not. You know I'll hurt you if you come without permission … and you know how to be a good boy."

Dean tried to ignore the chill that followed Sam's breath over his shoulder and let his own breath shake out over his lips as he took his cock in hand again, making sure that his movements were twice as slow as they'd started the first time around. It seemed like he could feel every ridge and twitch, his own heartbeat thickening his veins, and he tried to cycle through the sensations, his body's responses moving up and around their natural path, from the apex of his thighs down to his toes and up to the top of his head, then back to the center again. He breathed his way, ever so deliberately, through the removal of three more needles before the excruciating slowness had amped his sensitivity beyond his ability to think let alone hold back the needs that his body was screaming for.

"Please? Please … sir- … Fuck. … Oh fuck! … Please?"

"You get two more. You want your reward, right, whore?"

"Yes- … Yes- … sir- … yes- …" His words were clipped along with the breaks in his breath, but he swallowed and squeezed his cock just hard enough to pull him back from the brink for a moment. He couldn't keep himself from that edge for long, though, and when Sam had taken the tenth needle and threw it away, Dean couldn't tell if his body wanted him to laugh or cry or just fucking come. He felt damn near delirious with the ache of the needles, the ones staying and the ones that were gone, and it crashed into the ache of holding back this long, the ache of standing on his tiptoes on a cliff that he knew he couldn't fall into without being hurt, without being something other than a good boy, and he wanted- … Fuck. "Please- … please- … sir, may I- …"

"Come."

"Fuck!" He was almost hyperventilating between shouts as he came, streams of milky white jetting from his cock onto the bed without delay, his moans nearly sobs as his muscles clenched enough to curl him in on himself despite the prickling of the fifteen remaining needles. Only the strength of Sam's body behind him and the weight of Sam's hands on his hips kept him from shaking his way to the floor as he drowned in an incomprehensible mix of bliss, pain, and shame.

"Well aren't you just the eager slut tonight, huh? Making a mess all over my bed like that?"

"I'm- … You- …" He could barely breathe properly, let alone come up with an answer for whatever his brother was asking, and he licked his lips, trying to get his bearings "Do you- …"

"You remember what your mouth is for, don't you, whore?"

Dean's breathing stalled as his brain worked through the words and when it started up again it was slower, though still unsteady. He refused to let his eyes drop to the come he'd spilled on the edge of the bed. When Sam moved to the side, though, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns near the top of Dean's spine, Dean did his best not to process his own step back, or the way bending at the waist strained the skin over the needles, or the salt-and-butter taste of his own come.

"Turn around."

Dean stood up fully again and turned, his gaze staying low, nearly numb, as Sam pried his sweat-sticky left hand open to get at the packets he'd deposited there. Then Sam wiped away the new blood on Dean's torso before tossing the trash and taking Dean's face in his hands.

"Aren't you getting to be a good little whore. … Maybe you'll earn that collar faster than I'd thought." Sam paused as if expecting Dean to say something, but Dean didn't know what that might be. "That was a compliment, whore, one from your owner, whose praise should be precious to you."

"Thank you, sir." There was something like grief in his voice, just a twinge of it in the way his mouth regurgitated the words, half-slurred and careless.

"You're welcome. And see? Good behavior is rewarded while bad behavior is punished. … Seems like a pretty easy choice, doesn't it, whore?"

It was fucked up, but … he was starting to think it almost did. The pain that came with rewards seemed less severe than the pain of punishments - on the outside, at least - and that was almost good, wasn't it? "Yes, sir."

"Glad to hear it. Now … I know you're full of come, but are you hungry? You want to take a break and have some dinner?"

"Uhh …" It had been hours since he'd eaten, he knew that, but he just couldn't be hungry with the flavor of spunk coating his tastebuds. A break would be good, though, and- … Why was he even mulling this over? He didn't really have a choice here. All of Sam's questions only sought the answers and outcomes that Sam wanted. His response didn't need to be true, it just needed to please his owner- … please Sam. "Yes, sir. … If that would please you."

"Good." Sam reached for his jeans and started yanking them on, sans briefs. "I'll go see what Corinne's cooking up for tonight. You can kneel by the couch and wait for me."

"Corinne?" Dean let the name sit on his tongue longer than necessary, trying to figure out why it rang a bell for him. He got an image of a tall round woman with rosy cheeks, manning the desk on the first night that they'd come into the inn. He felt his insides twist just a little because he hadn't specifically thought about what had happened to the people who were here, in this building, when Armageddon happened. He'd just assumed, almost, that they'd either been killed or enslaved and maybe the latter was still true. "Do you … own her too?"

Zipping his fly but leaving the button open, Sam's face scrunched up as if the question was in a foreign language and he had to translate, but then he laughed. "Of course not. She works for me."

"I don't understand. I thought- … I thought she was the owner. Did you just … demote her or something?"

"No. She posed as the owner on the night we came in, but that was largely because she was probably the least intimidating senior member of the staff at that time. She's good with temperature manipulation and likes food, so I hired her as the chef, primarily… and a soldier when necessary … but everyone's a soldier when necessary."

A non-human worker, huh, and a staff that was already in place the first day they were here. Dean had figured that some things were set up early, but he hadn't really tried to wrap his brain around which parts and why. Even with the new information, though, it still felt like there were missing pieces. "So … What happened to the real owners?" He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know, but asked anyway.

"Oh … I think they ended up in Florida somewhere. I mean … I don't know how they're doing down there. I didn't keep tabs on them or anything … and I think with all the chaos, they'd be difficult to find, but … last I knew, they were moving to some retirement resort down there."

"What?" Dean shook his head, as if that might clear his ears and help him make sense of what Sam was saying.

"I had my money guy, Eddie, pay them in cash, one-and-a-half times the asking price, so there wouldn't be any fuss, ya know? They seemed really appreciative and excited about Miami or wherever it was they were headed." He stopped for a moment, tilting his head off to one side in thought. "I think Miami turned out badly, though, so … they might be dead anyway."

Dean swallowed as his eyebrows bunched in together. None of this fit with how he'd thought about this new world, this situation, or how either came to be. "You bought this place?"

"Yeah. I knew we'd need a place, that I'd need a headquarters big enough to house at least a portion of my crew, a place to work on the things that needed to get done. It was well positioned geographically and the structure lent itself to being adapted to my style and my … interests. … Cash just meant less mess for everyone."

It was strange to listen to Sam talk about buying this place, about workers on his payroll. The ideas mixed with Dean's earlier doubts about himself and made him wonder if he'd somehow gotten things confused along the way, if he'd been assuming things he shouldn't quite, despite the burning he'd seen outside the windows and the viciousness that Sam showed him in the room. "Do you even have other slaves? I mean … does everyone here work for you?"

"Pretty much." Sam shrugged as if it shouldn't be new news and wasn't any big deal.

"And they're all … demons?"

"Not necessarily. It depends. You should know better than anyone that not everything supernatural is a demon. We've got freaks of every flavor here." He paused, glancing away as if trying to remember. "We've got … basic demons, spirits, vamps, succubi, elementals … nymphs, gods, warlocks, sirens … faeries, trolls, lycans, djinnis- … fucking leprechauns!" His laugh fell as he watched Dean's expression flood with shock. "Really, if you've hunted it or heard of it, there's probably someone around here related to it." Sam snickered, shaking his head. "Hell, the running joke that might not be a joke is that Nowell's from the line of Santa Claus."

Dean's tongue felt like it had been twisted up with his brain. "Seriously?"

"About Nowell? … Probably not, but making people debilitatingly happy isn't really a gift anyone else can replicate, except maybe some succubus-types who do it with sex." Sam shrugged. "Really, though? I don't care. He does good work."

"No. That's not- …" None of this made any sense. Wasn't the war about demonic destruction of humanity or, at least, rule over humanity? Where would nymphs or any of those other random creatures fit in? "What about the Fallen?"

"What about them? They're on top, as they should be, but you knew that already. Maybe they don't all appreciate the worth of flying the freak flag, but … allies are important, even mixed-bloods like me, and, no offense, but people like to be on the winning team. … You'll see." Sam offered a feral grin as he backed towards the door and spread his arms in a wolfish gesture of invitation. "Welcome to the new world, Dean. You're gonna learn to love it here. I'll make sure of that."

Sam chuckled darkly as he turned to reach for the doorknob and Dean just blinked at him, eyes alternating between squinting and widening as he tried to piece things together in a sensible enough way to have something less stumbling to say. Sam paused before opening the door, though, his laughter fading as he tilted his head, almost seeming to listen to or for something. Dean was on the verge of asking why when Sam slowly turned back to him and the almost robotic coldness that sat in his features made Dean shiver.

"Is there a reason that you're still standing by the bed instead of on your way to kneeling by the couch like I told you, whore?"

Dean pulled back at the flip in his brother's demeanor and he shook his head softly, looking down even though it had only been seconds since Sam had been in his space, making immediate compliance with the order rather unlikely. "I was just- …"

"I want you on your knees."

Dean cringed, hearing the heat in Sam's words even if he couldn't feel it, and he moved to fold himself down to the floor.

"Didn't I say 'by the couch', whore?"

Dean's movements halted and he returned to standing with a nod and a soft, "yes, sir."

"Go."

He took a deep but quiet breath, steadying himself before walking around the bed to the couch and turning back to face Sam, feeling his brother's eyes on him as he sunk to the ground, more function than grace.

"I'll be back in a bit."

Dean just nodded and worked to keep his breath from shaking too much as he listened to the door open and close, leaving him on his knees and waiting in the silence of the room.

There was too much going on, too much in his head, and he still had enough needles stuck in him to make the front curve of his kneeling body ache when his head was bowed. He was trying to figure out how this world worked, how Sam worked, and how to keep both pain and drugs away from him. He'd done a lot in survival-based situations, but in this case, the lack of sensible information and the lack of workable options just made his head hurt like his brain was trapped in a pinball machine, slamming from object to object and racking up points but getting dented in the process. It wasn't that he couldn't multi-task, but he had to prioritize or he'd go fucking nuts and still be no closer to saving either Sam or himself.

He lifted a hand to squeeze his temples, but listened for the sounds of Sam returning in case he was supposed to keep his hands in his lap or adhere to some other rule he didn't know yet. The workings of this world were fascinating, sure, and he'd need to know them eventually, for purposes of turning things around or at least helping them escape, but … saving the world was definitely not going to happen if he ended up dead or maimed beyond general usefulness. The thought made his heart stutter and he closed his eyes rather than look at the proximity of the ground or the needles in his body. After dinner, they'd be back to 'playing the game' … and Sam would be back to torturing him.

Dean shuddered, trying not to think about how Sam would make him work to have the rest of the needles removed. There were only fifteen left, but that was still too many. Two-plus weeks without coming wouldn't be so bad all by itself, but he knew Sam would fuck with him, take him to the brink over and over until he was aching, then laugh in his face if he begged for it and punish him hard if he tried to relieve the pressure. And, a hundred and fifty more lashings would be way too much to add to the tab. He still had more to work off from the day before and- … Oh god. … What if Sam wanted him to take the game's full count tonight? Fifteen needles meant one and a half times what he'd been broken by the day before. A hundred and fifty fucking strokes. He- … Fuck.

He could feel the burn of the whip on his back, even though it was only a ghost, and he rocked a little. It seemed better than shaking all the time. Sam would do it, though, make him take it all, chain him up and make him forget his own name in the pain of it. Then Sam would fuck him, like yesterday, tear him up inside, add the scratch of his nails to the screaming pain in his back, fuck his power into all the places he couldn't reach with his body. Just- … Fuck.

The rocking was deeper now, his stomach twisting up at the smell of food slipping around the edges of the door. He knew he had to fix this and he would … if he could … but he had to survive first. He had to be something good enough for Sam to keep, to reward, and not bad enough to be hurt too much, or drugged, or worse. He had to be good. He nodded to himself, not looking up when he heard the door swing open, and he tried to stop himself from rocking back and forth like some freezing drifter or plain-old crazy person.

"Dean?"

He could tell that Sam was only one of the people who came into the room, but he pushed away thoughts of his nudity, his submissiveness, none of that could matter if he was really going to make it here. "Yes, sir?"

Eyes down. Don't move until you're told to. He was writing the rules in his head, noting, cataloguing, memorizing. He was learning to be good.

"Did you move while I was gone?" The sounds of the table being set were soft behind Sam's voice as he approached the couch.

"No, sir. … I was good." He shivered, wondering when 'good' had become such a bad word.

"Good boy. Stand up for me."

Dean went to his feet and it was surprisingly easy to keep his eyes and head down a bit. It almost felt natural. But, of course, realizing that made him want to fight it. He looked up at Sam and saw a smile that was meant to mock him.

"Are you trying to pick your battles, Dean? Trying to figure out how to be independent and assertive and still be a good boy for me?"

Dean shrugged, because, honestly? He didn't really know what he was doing. He just followed his instincts most of the time, while trying to dampen the most dangerous ones. "I dunno. I just do what feels right."

Sam nodded, but the mocking smile stayed. "Fair enough. We'll just have to make sure that you get to the point where pleasing your owner at all costs is what feels right."

Dean scoffed quietly, shaking his head. He just didn't know any kind of reasonable response to that.

Sam didn't seem to mind, though, taking the hanging leash in hand and walking back to the toy box, pulling Dean over as he lifted the top. "Come here."

Dean went where the needles wanted him to go, getting close enough to Sam to give the strings plenty of slack as he watched Sam's fingers play over the top layer of toys in the box.

"These will be your responsibility. Most of the things that we use that need cleaning will go in the small box on the floor to the left of this one. When you have free time, I expect you to use some of it to clean what's dirty until it shines and then set it on my desk, so I can inspect it before I put it away. Is that clear?"

Dean nodded subtly. "Yes, sir." He wasn't excited about it or anything, but he wasn't going to fight Sam on this point. At least this way he'd know things were clean.

"Good." Sam tugged him into an embrace, jeans scraping his ass, then Sam leaned around to pull up items from inside the box, laying out a selection of plugs that varied in size and shape from 'barely there' to 'never walk again'. "Pick one." There was a bounce in Sam's voice that showed a kind of excitement that usually only went with opening presents.

"For what?" Dean spoke slowly, cautious. Choice wasn't really something that came up much here, and when it did, there was always a catch.

"For you to wear during dinner." There seemed to be an 'of course' built-in there somewhere.

Dean knew he could easily go for the smallest, but that was probably what Sam was expecting. Maybe he'd make him wear the exact opposite of whatever he chose or something. But if that wasn't the case, then Dean definitely shouldn't choose anything much past the mid-sized model, because everything after that was bigger than anything he'd ever had up there.

"It's not a math problem, Dean. Just remember what you are and what that means."

What it meant was that he was supposed to choose something that would please his owner, because that was supposed to be the most important thing in a whore's life. But Dean's owner- Sam, he liked to hurt him, which kind of meant that if Dean was going to be good, make the right choice, it would have to push him. If it didn't, Sam would think he wasn't trying hard enough, the needles would stay in, and a long punishment would follow.

He blew out air, almost a whistle, and reached for the third largest plug. It had a curved diamond shape, so it tapered to a rounded point at the tip, but its widest part, just before the dip that led to the rectangular base, must have been three times the width of the smallest plug in the line-up. He'd seen professionals take fists and bottles and all kinds of things up there, so it wasn't like he thought it was impossible, but the idea of that going into him almost made him ask for the flogging instead. He didn't, though. He just swallowed and lifted it up for Sam, his voice only somewhat unsteady. "Maybe … this one?"

Sam hummed into his neck as he reached around to take the plug from Dean's hands before breathing his words over Dean's ear. "Excellent choice. You're really gonna feel this."

He suppressed a shudder, tilting his head away from Sam and his wandering mouth, but then Sam wasn't at his back anymore.

"Come over here."

Dean turned around with the short yank of needles and dragged himself over to the spot Sam was indicating. He noticed that the two male maids from yesterday were back, flitting between setting up the table and tidying the room in general. It felt a little odd being naked while random people were around, but he hadn't worn clothes at all in almost a week now and he was already getting used to it enough to not totally freak out.

Sam maneuvered him so that he was facing away from the table anyway, his eyes taking in the view of the bed a few feet up on his right, the windows on his left, and a mostly blank wall straight ahead. It was the same wall that held the Litany, which he always felt strangely drawn to read whenever he was looking this way. That wasn't what this was about, though.

Sam pushed a hand against his back. "Spread your legs and put your fists on the floor. Bend however you need to, but I want to see everything."

His teeth shifted, tense, in his mouth. "What about the … maids … or whoever they are?"

"Focus on me, whore. I'm your owner and I gave you an order. You do it or you get hurt." It was always just a for-your-information bulletin, any anger long-since replaced by a power that imagined itself to be neutral. "And aren't you trying to be a good boy and please me tonight? Trying to get those needles out so you'll still have some skin on your back when you lay down for bed? Or … did I misunderstand something?"

Dean worked to breathe as he bent at the waist, channeling out the aggression that Sam was pressing into his system. When he positioned his fists to hold him up, the leash hit the floor soundlessly, but it almost felt like there should have been a thud there and he blinked, the light tricking his eyes into seeing a many-pointed star under and around the knotted threads. He jerked, though, his gaze flitting away at the feel of cold lube being rubbed none-too-gently into his hole, and when he looked again, the star was lost in the forest of cream carpeting, the puzzling product of tired eyes and an exhausted mind.

Feeling Sam push the plug against his entrance, Dean decided that the tip felt a hell of a lot thicker than it had looked. He took the first nudge in alright, trying to relax and ignore the sounds of the other two people moving around the room. It only took another few moments of Sam's shoving to make the stretch unbearable, though, and Dean shook his hanging head, panting as his ass started to ache more than his needle-pricked abdomen. "I can't."

"Relax."

Dean's throat emitted a quickly stifled whine as Sam twisted the plug while pressing it deeper. "Not helping."

Sam snickered softly, a chilling sound, and Dean could feel Sam's body shift to lean more heavily against the plug, making him cry out as it forcefully breached him further. "You're going to take this whole thing, whore, one way or another. So … you can relax, push back against me, and breathe … or I will shove it in and tear you wide open."

Dean closed his eyes and worked to compose himself rather than fall apart in the strain of the situation. Inhaling deeply and slowly, he pushed himself back on the plug, swallowing noises that told him the sheets would likely be stained with his pain later on. His breath was running in and out of him in wheezes and gasps when he finally felt more than heard the plug fully pop into place under Sam's hand.

"Can you stand?"

He couldn't stop himself from laughing, a light but bitter rumble that shook all the parts of him that ached. It felt like there was a fucking well-muscled arm up his ass. "I doubt it."

"We'll give it a few minutes to settle in then."

Dean nodded without comment even though he was pretty sure that movement of any sort would be damn near impossible with something that large wedged deep enough to radiate pain like a beacon, down his thighs, up his back, and under and over his cock and stomach. Sam was out of his mind if he thought he'd be able to function in any kind of reasonable way while filled beyond capacity like that. In fact, the angle of his body was making the pain and the blood-heavy sag of his head rot his stomach's control and he was going to be seriously sick in a minute. The rustling of clothes nearby distracted him from his worries, though, and he blinked at the slice of dress pants that came into view next to Sam's jeans behind him.

"Uhh … all the hot foods have their … umm … own warmers, on the table, so … they should be fine for a while, but … uhh … do you … umm ... want us to … take out the mousse or … leave it in the cooler … sir?"

Sam chuckled, obviously enjoying the young man's discomfort. "So- … Which one are you?"

"Kyle, sir."

"Right. So, Kyle, you like my boy?"

Sam ran his hand over the right side of Dean's ass, his muscles straining as he held the exposing position.

"Umm … well … he- he's very … fit … sir."

"Yeah, he is, isn't he?" Sam's satisfied hum rumbled down his hand and into Dean's skin as his fingers sought out the plug and pressed, pulling an embarrassing grunt from Dean's mouth. "He's a good boy … when he knows what's good for him."

Dean tried to stay still, to not think about being on display, being fondled in front of some servant who was sure to talk about this until everyone thought like that guard did, that he was just some slut for the taking. This was so fucked up and god if he didn't want to hunker down on the floor and cover himself, but he was trying to lessen his punishment, right?

Sam's fingers slid down to caress that sensitive strip of skin just below his sac and Dean's control was shot, a groan pouring out of him before he could lock his mouth shut.

The young man gasped then stammered out his words. "Oh- … he- … umm … you- … not surprisingly- … have good taste … sir."

Dean forced his inner dialogue to shut up, then, however, as it pointed out that he clearly was just some whore, because his cock was thickening with blood, hanging heavily and half-hard between his spread thighs, even with his ass stretched wide and even knowing that someone was watching. Or … maybe it was because his ass was full and someone was watching. Fuck.

"Thank you." Sam sounded sincerely pleased in a way not unlike when someone received a compliment on their 'lovely home'.

"Do you need anything else, Commander?" This voice was new and further away, but more confident, obviously the other attendant in the room.

"You know, I think we're all set, but … when do you two have your next birthday?"

"April, sir, the 16th. Why?"

"I just want to make sure I have something … nice … lined-up for the big day. Eighteen and twenty-one, right?"

"Yeah, but … you don't have to do anything special, Commander. We're grateful to even just be here. I mean … we don't say it enough, I know, but- …"

"Kevin?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm not talking about getting you two your own sector or something. I'm just talking about giving you something … nice." Sam's hand slid down until his fingers could play at the crook between Dean's ass and his thighs, making Dean gasp, body rocking both into and away from that touch.

"Ohhh … Commander, you don't have to do that."

"I'm well aware of that, Kevin. But you know I like to take care of my crew."

"We know, sir." They answered in unison, then laughed a little.

Sam's huff was one of mock annoyance and genuine amusement. "Good. … Now, shut up and get out of here, so I can play with my toys."

"Oh! Of course, sir. Sorry." Their retreat was marked by the shuffling of feet over carpet and the soft click of a closing door.

Dean breathed through it all, thankful that Sam's hand left his most sensitive spots alone even as it slid smoothly over the skin of his ass, and he found the stroking soothing despite himself. The stroking even helped his mouth stay shut, though his mind was at work, wondering how long he would be expected to hold this position, especially with internal pressure from the oversized plug. As everything quieted and stayed quiet, however, even his mind drifted into near-silence. If he were really being good, he would just endure whatever Sam wanted him to, for as long as that took … and he was really trying to be good.


One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven

Comments

[writingbyebonio.livejournal.com]

Nope. Not bad at all. And you're always allowed to read for whatever reason intrigues you. I'm glad the 'verse is complex enough to draw you in for more than just the hot hip bones. ;-)

[katsheswims.livejournal.com]

Hmmm, Dean saw a star on the floor? In the carpet? And wasn't their a star ont he blackboard in the dream (Whore's Academy)? I wonder if it was the same one? Sam must know it's there, so it's porbably to effect Dean, but maybe someone put it there without Sam knowing and it's to effect Sam?

And oh, god I hope Sam isn't talking about loaning Dean out to those two on thier birthdays... (and Dean didn't notice!?)

[writingbyebonio.livejournal.com]

Oh yes, the star. It's always a question of whether or not the star is really there and if so what it means, but yes, you're right, Whore Academy also featured the star, among other stories. Thanks for commenting! :)