Sam wants to play too (apparently)
Feb. 5th, 2008 01:20 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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evilsam_spnAuthor:
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siubhlachPairing: evil!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 3,734
Spoilers: AHBL 1&2
Warnings: Elements of abusive relationship, dub/non-con (depending on how you read it)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true. If only...
Summary: Every man has choices to make, but sometimes there are no good options. Dean needs to learn that and Sam is a good teacher
Beta: The absolutely luscious
lissa_ann. She fixed the broken bits and I think she's awesome! Thank you, hon!So, over here I wrote evil!Dean fic and my evil!Sam muse got all pissy, in a 'Bitch, please! You call that evil? I've seen soggy kittens with more inherent badness than that!' sort of way
So I challenged him to do his worst, and he...um...did. This is the result. Enjoy!
“Dean.”
Sprawled out facedown on the bed, Dean kept his eyes closed and didn’t move. There was no point. Unresponsiveness may well piss his brother off, but that was probably actually going to be in Dean’s favour. Sam never came here to talk to him; he was only ever looking for one type of release or another and, frankly, Dean would rather bleed than fuck. Screaming for his brother was far less soul-destroying than begging for him.
“Dean.”
He hadn’t meant this. Hadn’t wanted this when he’d stood at that lonely crossroads and kissed a demon to seal that damned deal. He just hadn’t wanted Sam to die. Couldn’t live with Sam gone. Couldn’t fight the good fight alone. He hadn’t known that it was all already over. Hadn’t realised that the Winchester role in the good fight had ended at the same moment as the last breath had crossed Sam’s lips, the fight seeping out with Sam’s blood to mingle with the rain and mud and death.
Huh, poetic. Twisted, but poetic.
“I know what you’re thinking, Dean.” The soft touch of Sam’s fingers skirted down the side of his face and round the back of his neck, coming to rest at the nape. Sam’s fingers traced meaningless patterns against his skin. At least, Dean thought they were meaningless. He hoped so. “You’re thinking that if you ignore me, I’ll end up pissed with you and then I’ll storm off and leave you alone.”
Sam sounded amused. Fuck, that couldn’t be good.
“If I tell you I’m not here for what you think I’m here for, can we skip this part? Because, I’ve got to tell you, man, it’s getting old fast.” Dean couldn’t help himself; he opened his eyes. This was a bizarre curveball. Sam hadn’t talked to him like they were equals since…well, for a fucking long time. He’d been treating Dean like a punch-bag come fuck-toy since he’d woken up one morning, almost six months into Dean’s final bargained-for year, with fire in his eyes and homicide in his mind and had decided to ‘stop fighting my destiny, Dean’. What the fuck ever!
Sam’s fingers tightened against Dean’s neck and Dean started, before he realised that his brother was still waiting for an answer while he was wandering off in daydreamsville. Stupid! He knew better than to let his guard down around Sam these days. “Alright Sam, I’ll bite. What are you here for then?”
Sam shrugged. “It turns out there’s only so much demonic bowing, scraping and cowering that one man can take before he goes insane. I’m bored out of my mind, Dean. I want a real conversation, with someone who isn’t going to stop to kiss my ass every other word.”
Dean sat up and stared at his brother. He knew his incredulity must be showing on his face, but he was powerless to stop it. “You cannot be serious.”
Sam let go of Dean’s neck and stepped away to lean against the wall next to the bed. He looked down at Dean through dark eyes. “Why not?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Sam. Maybe because you’ve treated me like shit for the last fuck knows how long. You don’t get to just walk in here and pretend everything’s like it was.”
Sam laughed, fucking laughed. “Not trying to. As I remember you’re the one with the monopoly on that particular brand of denial.”
“Fuck you.”
Sam shrugged. “Not what I had in mind, but we can play that game if you like. I think you’re misremembering the rules, though. That’s not quite how it goes, is it?”
Dean shivered, involuntarily. He’d almost forgotten then. Almost forgotten that the self-possessed, confident individual stood next to his bed wasn’t the brother he had grown up with. Almost forgotten that the man was now the monster, and that taunts and insults were far more likely to result in blood and screaming than scowls and wet willies. Nonetheless, there were appearances to maintain. “Not tonight honey, I’ve got a headache.” He was thankful that none of the trepidation that was sloshing uncomfortably in his stomach showed in his voice.
Sam snorted. “Ever the cocky bastard.”
‘Not quite. Not since attitude started equalling pain.’ The thought rose unbidden. Dean ignored it. He was getting better and better at ignoring those types of thoughts, which was a good thing really, given that they had started to come more and more regularly. He wasn’t sure whether they were an indication of how close Sam was to breaking him or just a precursor to his inevitable insanity. What really concerned him was whether he’d be able to tell the difference when it happened. He swung his legs off the bed and looked up at his brother. “Not sure how exciting a conversationalist I’m going to be, Sammy. I mean, I can tell you in detail about every imperfection in the construction of this hamster cage you’ve got me in, but I’m a little out of touch with…well, pretty much anything else being as how you haven’t let me out of here since you sold out.”
“Whose fault is that? I gave you a choice, if you remember.”
Dean laughed. Probably not the healthiest decision he ever made, but what the hell; it wasn’t like he could have stopped himself. “Yeah Sammy, some choice. Damned by your side, or beaten under your boot. Funny how neither of those options really appealed to me.”
He watched as Sam’s whole countenance darkened. Yep, definitely not healthy. This would be the point the screaming started, then.
Except that it didn’t. Sam’s scowl straightened itself out, his brow smoothed and he tilted his head as he regarded Dean, almost thoughtfully. This was different. Sam was acting almost like Sammy and it was throwing Dean off-kilter. He wasn’t sure where this new behaviour was coming from, but the churning in his gut told him it couldn’t end well.
“They may not appeal, but they were, are and will be the only options available to you. I would have thought you, of all people, would have preferred the first. You did promise to protect me, after all” Sam’s tone was nonchalant, giving nothing away.
Dean shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off his brother. “Which a lifetime’s worth of memories should remind you includes protecting you from yourself, Sam. I made my choice however the fuck long ago it was, when Dad first gave me the options.”
Sam smirked. “Save me or kill me? What if I told you I don’t want saving? That I’m finally free to be myself, in a world where I make the rules and there’s no one left alive to stop me. That I like being bad.”
Dean struggled to swallow past the sudden dryness in his throat. “I’d do what any big brother would. Ignore you and carry on as before.”
Sam regarded him in silence for a long moment, his expression indecipherable. That was what Dean hated most of all about the whole fucked-up situation. Sam had been an open book of emotion his entire life, and Dean had gotten reading those moods down to a fine art. Now though, it was like a stranger stared at him through eyes he knew better than his own. He had never felt more alone.
“I brought you a present.”
Okay, conversation over then. Dean regarded Sam warily, his earlier trepidation back in full force. “Yeah?”
Sam reached inside his jacket and pulled out a black velvet box. He tossed it across to Dean, who raised a hand to catch it on pure instinct. The box was long, thin and narrow, weightier than it had looked in Sam’s hand. It reminded Dean of the jewellery box his mother had kept her favourite necklace in and the memory brought a lump to his throat. He glanced up at Sam, who’s smirk was firmly back in place. “I’m not the kind of girl who puts out for one little trinket, you know.”
Sam’s smirk widened. The amusement was back too, dancing in his eyes, and the knot in Dean’s stomach tightened another notch. “Open it.”
Dean snapped the lid of the box open and stared down at the contents, his confusion quickly melting into disbelief before it transmuted into anger. “Oh hell no!”
“Put it on.” Sam wasn’t asking.
“Fuck off!” Dean dropped the box onto the bed and glared at his brother, pointedly ignoring the black leather collar laid out against the plush interior, looking for all the world like some twisted jeweller’s demented centrepiece.
Sam met Dean’s gaze squarely. “We’re back to choices again, brother mine. You can put the collar on of your own free will and we can stay nice and civilised, or you can refuse, at which point I’ll pin you down, make you scream and force you to wear it. Easy or hard is up to you, but you are going to wear it.”
“I’m not your fucking pet, Sam!”
There was a flash of irritation in Sam’s eyes, just for a second before it disappeared. “But you are mine. I claimed you, remember, when that bitch came to collect her dues and this will make sure that you, and everybody else, remembers that.”
Dean should have kept his mouth shut. He knew that, but this, this was too fucking much! “What ‘everybody else’?! The only person I ever see is you! Come on, Sam, you can’t be serious!”
“You keep saying that.” Sam’s gaze was stony, his expression unflinching. “This isn’t open for debate. You’re wearing the collar, end of discussion. So make your choice.”
Every muscle in Dean’s body was screaming for him to refuse, to resist. This was beyond fucked up, on levels Dean couldn’t even count, but he still hesitated. His father had always taught him to pick his battles and play for the win and one look at Sam’s face told him that resistance wasn’t going to gain him any leeway. He’d managed to make it through this encounter so far without hurting for his brother and Dean generally counted any meeting with Sam that didn’t leave him fucked up in one way or another a victory. This was just…a minor concession. He could do this and still be himself. He reached out a hand slowly toward the collar.
Sam smiled. “Good choice.”
Dean wrapped the collar around his throat, his hands reaching behind his head to fasten the buckle. The leather was supple, smooth against his skin and not particularly uncomfortable. He fastened it easily; tight enough to feel, loose enough to avoid discomfort and let his hands fall back to his sides. Sam’s eyes darkened with what looked like satisfaction and…and then his vision blurred and he lost sight of Sam as his mind exploded into a kaleidoscope of agony. It felt as though someone had rammed a stiletto directly into his spinal cord. Dimly he felt his body arch backwards and his head smack against the bed and, as the excruciating pain shot through his skull, he heard Sam’s low laughter echoing in his ears.
Fuck, he should have fought.
The pain could have lasted seconds or hours, Dean wasn’t sure. Eventually it receded, the splintering waves reducing in intensity and frequency until they faded altogether. He didn’t move though, exhausted by the aftershocks which ran through his body, and his limbs trembled from an exertion he couldn’t remember.
“How’re you feeling?”
Dean cracked one eye open and stared at his brother. Sam hadn’t moved from his lazy sprawl against the wall, but there was an focused intensity burning in his gaze that Dean hadn’t felt in a long time. He couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through him. “The fuck did you do?”
Sam shrugged. “Just a little something I had the warlocks cook up for you. Apparently the pain is unavoidable.”
“Why?” Dean’s voice was hoarse.
“You made the wrong choice. I was tired of waiting for you to realise that.”
Dean’s bad feeling multiplied ten-fold. “What do you mean?”
For the third time he watched as that smirk flitted across his brother’s lips. It didn’t help his sense of foreboding. “I told you. I’m bored of the fawning and acquiescence. I want somebody at my side who will challenge me, argue with me, hell, even insult me but who will also obey me. You are more than capable of the first, Dean, but we both know obedience to anyone other than Dad has never been your strong suit. The collar is there to make sure you do as you’re told. When you put it on you completed the spell.” Sam tone was smug and he looked far too self-satisfied for Dean’s peace of mind. “Oh, and I wouldn’t bother trying to take it off. The magics in it are attuned to me. I’m the only one that can remove it and I don’t see that happening any time soon. I want you as an asset, not a liability.”
“What does it do, exactly?” Dean was actually proud of how calm he was managing to keep his tone. What he really wanted to do was rip his brother a new one, but he had a sickening feeling that that would be counterproductive right now, not to mention pretty much impossible.
Sam shrugged. “Allows me to control your actions and your impulses. Simply put, I can stop you from doing one thing and force you do something else.”
‘Fuck. Fuck fuckity double fuck’. Dean swallowed and felt the press of the leather against his throat as he fought to force down the panicky feeling Sam’s words had ignited.
Sam’s expression darkened and his smile took on a decidedly wolfish air. “Actually, I think now might be a really good time to test it out. What do you think?”
“That you’re fucking delusional?”
“Let’s see, shall we? I want you over here, on your knees, hands behind your back.”
Dean snorted. Yeah, because that was going to happen! Except that he was sliding off the bed onto his knees and crawling across to Sam. He felt the panic bubbling up again and set his jaw, blocking out the frantic distress signals his brain was trying to send. He couldn’t deal with that, not right now. At his brother’s feet he stopped, leaning back against his heels and crossed his wrists at the small of his back. It was almost as though his body wasn’t connected to his brain, or at least, not in any way that was important right now. The clack of metal against metal pulled his attention back to his brother and he watched, with a twisted combination of fascination and horror, as Sam slowly unzipped his jeans, then reached in and pulled out his cock. He stroked lazily, that damned smirk still ghosting across his lips as he locked eyes with Dean. “Closer.”
“Sam…please…” Even as he whispered, Dean couldn’t stop himself shuffling forward, towards his brother. Sam widened his stance, creating space for Dean to settle between his legs.
“Begging already? We haven’t even got started yet.”
Dean closed his mouth, swallowing down the rest of his pleas. There was no mercy to be had here and he’d be damned if he would do anything to add to his humiliation. Sam was doing just fine with that all by himself.
Sam laughed, a low and vaguely threatening sound. “Yeah, you’re real pissed with me right about now, aren’t you? Just think how you’re going to feel when your body remembers how much you like this.” His voice was mocking and Dean had about as much control over his answering scowl as he did over the sun setting. Or Sam going darkside, apparently.
Sam raised a hand and traced his fingers down Dean’s cheek to his mouth, his thumb pressing against the bottom lip in unspoken command. Which, it seemed, was just as effective as a verbal instruction. Fucker. “Here’s how this goes, Dean. You’re going to put that mouth to good use and suck my cock, you’re going to put some effort into it and you’re going to enjoy it.”
Ah, god! Even as Dean leaned forward and Sam’s fingers traced through his hair to grip at either side of his head, he felt his mouth start to water and his own cock respond enthusiastically. He licked Sam from base to tip, his tongue dipping teasingly against the slit. Sam groaned, his hips twitched forward and Dean instinctively brought his hands up to hold his brother steady.
“No. Hands behind your back and keep them there.”
Dean froze. Or tried to. His mind screamed at his body to stop, but it was like he was a spectator to his own actions, trapped inside his head and forced to watch as Sam manipulated him. Used him. He felt himself suck the head into his mouth and let his tongue flutter against the sensitive bundle of nerves on the underside of Sam’s dick. Ah, fuck, he couldn’t do this.
“Stay with me, Dean.” His eyes canted up. Sam was watching him, eyes half-closed and heavy-lidded. “If it helps, console yourself with the thought that you don’t have any choice.”
It didn’t help. Sam had stolen the one thing that Dean had left, the one characteristic that made him Dean. Even as his tongue swirled around Sam’s cock, he felt the despair that threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t fight. He had never been able to control how his body reacted to Sam; hell, if he had only been able to resist the siren call of Sam’s body the whole incest thing would never have been the issue it was, but at least he had been able to struggle against his brother. Now the only struggle was with himself and it was a battle he was already losing. Badly.
He was sucking harder now. More of Sam in his mouth, lips sealed tightly and cheeks hollowed and his brother…Christ, his brother looked like a walking advert for hardcore porn. His head was thrown back, exposing the long column of his neck and his skin glistened with a thin sheen of perspiration. His eyes were mostly closed, his hips thrusting lightly against Dean and his mouth. Oh god, his mouth. Lips bitten, wet and slightly parted to allow gasping breaths and a stream of soft obscenities through, obscenities that would make a hooker blush. Dean felt his own cock twitch in response. He had always been a sucker for dirty talk and hearing filth from his innocent baby brother, well nothing had ever got him off faster. Seemed that was still true, even with the innocence salted and burned.
“Change of plan.” Sam’s voice was fucked-out and his eyes glittered as he stared down at Dean. “I’ll get myself off,” and his fingers tightened against Dean’s skull, “and you get yourself off.”
Sam didn’t wait for a response, just thrust forward and Dean felt his throat stutter around his brother, even as his fingers wrenched open his own jeans and curled around his erection. He could just imagine the picture they made; Sam fucking his mouth while he fucked his own fist. It was filthynastydirty…and so fucking hot it made his head spin. From the corner of his mind that was still his own, not dominated by Sam or blinded by lust, Dean felt the shadow of his own despair. His eyes had teared up, and he couldn’t tell whether it was Sam’s throat-deep thrusts or his own fall from grace that had blurred his vision. Then Sam stiffened and pulled back. His cock slipped from Dean’s mouth just as it began to spurt and Dean closed his eyes as liquid warmth splashed across his face. It was just so fucking wrong and then his own back arched and he heard an inarticulate sound fall from his lips as his own orgasm hit, fierce and demanding.
Dean slumped forward, spent. He could feel the recriminations simmering beneath his skin, itching to break free and he clamped down on them hard. Not now, not until Sam had gone, at the least. Before…everything had changed, this type of mood would have sent him straight to the nearest bar to get wasted or laid, whichever came quicker. Not anymore. Sam was his only source of relief now and that was the sharpest of double-edged blades. Dean ignored the small voice at the back of his mind that expressed a perverse satisfaction at that knowledge. He already had more than enough fucked-upness to deal with for one day, thanks.
Sam’s hands hadn’t moved from his hair and now they tightened, drawing Dean’s head back until he was looking up at his brother. Sam stared at him for a moment, his gaze searching, then smiled. “Fuck, Dean, you have no idea how good you look right now.” One hand shifted and he swiped his thumb slowly across Dean’s cheek, smearing his come into his brother’s face, while the other dropped to his throat to trace lightly around the edge of the collar. “Sinful. Abused. Decadent. A poster child for my new world order.”
“That the plan, Sam?” Dean heard the hoarseness in his own words and winced. Snarky words in a blowjob voice. A near perfect representation of the contradictions that were snarling up his head.
Sam laughed. “Hell, no. The only person you whore for is me.”
“What? I don’t get a say? No more choices?”
Sam’s laughter died away and a slow smile Dean had never seen before slid across his face. “Oh no, Dean, there are always choices. They’re just not always yours.” He slid his fingers between collar and skin and tugged, bringing Dean to his feet, before claiming his mouth in a dirty kiss that was all teeth and tongue and that left Dean breathless by the time it was finished. Sam smirked at him, then pushed him away.
“Get cleaned up, then meet me upstairs. We’ve got work to do.”
Dean watched his damnation stride out of the room and felt another piece of his soul die. As he moved automatically to follow Sam’s last command, he wondered whether any of it was worth it; whether the resistance, the defiance, the refusals were all too little, too late. Whether he had passed the point of no return.
The point where choices stop mattering.
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Date: 2008-02-05 02:24 am (UTC)Holy CRAP this story is HAWT!
Love it! :::::goes to take cold shower::::
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Date: 2008-02-05 02:53 am (UTC)And I got a keymash! Hurrah! *is in a happy place*
I'm glad it worked for you as well, hon.
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Date: 2008-02-05 05:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-05 10:03 am (UTC)*nodnod* This is one I can see there being more of. I'm glad you enjoyed it
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Date: 2008-02-05 11:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-05 02:56 pm (UTC)I have more ideas for this verse certainly. I make no promises about whether any of them will ever see the light of day though - I would need to stop volunteering for challenge fics first *facepalm*. It's good to know I'm not the only one who enjoys it though :D
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Date: 2008-02-05 10:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-06 01:00 am (UTC)Now go get yourself a nice stiff drink of whatever your preference :)
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Date: 2008-02-06 01:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-09 06:52 am (UTC)this is awesome*content sigh*
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Date: 2008-02-09 12:59 pm (UTC)Thank you though, and I'm glad you enjoyed it!
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Date: 2008-04-28 09:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-28 09:58 pm (UTC)And very much so poor Dean! I completely agree