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Entry tags:
Birthday Spankings, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Birthday Spankings
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2206
Summary: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pyroblaze18, after Sam gives Dean a Christmas to remember in Merry Christmas, Dean, Dean decides to return the favor on Sam's birthday.
A/Ns & Warnings: Over here I did that time stamp meme.pyroblaze18 asked for this. BDMS, spanking, public antics
Dean had been watching. Waiting. Planning.
Since Christmas. Since Sam had given him a Christmas gift that had hit nearly every kink Dean could catalogue. And here it was. Sam’s birthday.
They generally didn’t do much for birthdays. But this was different. Sam had upped the ante, and Dean was never one to back down from a challenge.
“Where exactly is this hunt?” Sam asked as Dean emerged from the bathroom. He was dressed for effect, and he could already see it was working.
Black leather, head to toe. Boots, heavy biker boots.
Sam swallowed and looked away. “A club. You don’t have to come.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Sam stood, brushing a hand over his jeans. “I feel a little underdressed.”
“No, it’s good. You’ll fit in.”
Sam raised an eyebrow like he didn’t believe him. “I need to get into the VIP area. You can…keep an eye on the rest of the place. Come on.”
He didn’t give Sam time to think about it, just headed for the car. They weren’t far from the club. Sam’s eyes were wide as they pulled up.
“Dean.”
“You can stay in the car Sam.” Dean said getting out and knowing his brother wasn’t going to stay in the car.
“You should have said something.”
“I did. I said it was a club.”
It was, in fact, a BDSM club. Patrons milled around outside it, all manner of leather and metal and skin on display. Dean headed for the door, felt Sam crowded up behind him, his hand on Dean’s elbow. Dean paid the cover and watched as the bouncer eyed his brother.
“He’s with me.” Dean said possessively, reaching behind him to wrap a hand around Sam’s neck.
“Better keep him close,” the bouncer said, letting them in.
“Here that Sammy? He thinks I should keep you close.” Sam’s eyes darted around them, then came back to Dean’s. There was a little bit of fear there. Fear and arousal and disbelief. Dean grinned. He startled Sam further by pulling him in and kissing him, deep and hard, right there in front of the whole place.
No one here knew them. No one would know their secret. And Dean was relishing the feeling of control. He released Sam and moved into the club. It was dark, with atmospheric red lights that made all the faces seem a little evil. Dean moved through the crowd, knowing Sam was sticking close. He got to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey, turning to look around them. Sam tucked himself in beside Dean, his side to the bar, his chest pressed against Dean’s arm.
“There isn’t any hunt.” Sam said, though there was a note of question in the statement.
Dean didn’t look at him, just sipped at his whiskey and watched the mixed crowd. There were the obvious ones, big men in leather with smaller men on leashes, dykes with pretty little girls on their knees. There were the less obvious, men and women in suits with some pretty thing on their arm. There were the ones trolling, eyeing those around them. The submissive ones seemed to group together in a couple places, heads down, whispering to one another, watching and waiting for someone to claim them. The dominant ones stayed pretty much to themselves, at least until they spotted something they wanted.
“Told you you didn’t have to come.” Dean said, tossing back the shot and flicking a glance at his brother. He turned to him, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. “But we both know you wanted to.”
“I didn’t know…” Sam’s voice trailed off, his eyes wandering off. A big bald man was approaching, his eyes moving over Sam, then flicking to Dean.
“He yours?”
Dean looked at the man, then to Sam. “I don’t know. Are you mine, Sam?”
There was a flare of defiance in his eyes. The look that always came when Sam realized Dean had discovered something about him he thought he’d kept secret.
“No, Dean. I don’t think so.”
Dean shrugged and put his shot glass down, gesturing for another shot. “I guess not.”
The big man smiled and stepped even closer, into Sam’s space, crowding him against the bar. “You look like you need a strong hand.”
Sam paled, wiggled in the constricting space, his eyes skipping to Dean. He was nervous, turned on. Dean downed his second shot and moved to walk away. Sam’s hand shot out and caught his arm. “Where you going?”
“You found a playmate. Figured I’d find my own.”
“Dean.”
“Never mind him.” Dean watched the big man box Sam in, felt Sam’s eyes. “I can handle you.”
Dean was maybe five steps away. He couldn’t really hear Sam’s words, only his voice. He waited for the note of fear, turned. Sam had both hands on the man’s chest, holding him back. Dean watched, waited for his eyes. Then stepped back. “On second thought, this one is mine. Just thought he needed to be reminded.” Dean said, reaching over the man’s arm for Sam’s neck and dragging him away.
“Boy needs discipline,” the big guy said.
Dean nodded, eyeing Sam up and down. “Yes, he does.”
“Dean.” His voice was dark, but soft.
Dean met his eyes. This was it. If Sam really wanted out, now was when it would happen. Sam stared at him, then dropped his eyes. “Good boy.” Dean murmured and Sam blushed.
“There’s a room.” Big Guy said.
Dean watched Sam as he considered it. He hadn’t planned on going that far. Dean pulled Sam closer, tried to gauge what his brother was thinking. His hand brushed over Sam’s groin and damn if he wasn’t hard. “Show me.”
Big Guy pointed, then started moving through the crowd. Dean pushed Sam ahead of him, his hand still on the back of his neck. The room was small, sparsely decorated, with a giant window facing into the club. Thick black velvet curtains could be closed over it. The opposite wall was filled with paddles and riding crops and other tools.
Dean thanked Big Guy and watched him leave. He kept Sam’s back to the window. His hand on Sam’s neck let him read his brother’s reaction. He stood close. “I’m gonna drop your pants Sam, and bend you over and spank your ass.”
Sam shifted his feet, didn’t quite look up at Dean. He licked his lips and nodded once, tight, barely. Dean slowly let go of his neck, slid his hand down Sam’s back. There was a chair. Dean dragged it over, set it in front of Sam. “Hands.”
Sam didn’t really move, but Dean helped, he took Sam’s hands in his and set them on the back of the chair. He was aware of the audience growing outside the window, two or three guys watching. Dean was also aware that Sam didn’t really know it was there, he was too focused on what Dean was doing.
Dean made sure Sam’s hands were secure, then moved behind him, pulling on his hips until Sam understood and adjusted his stance, shuffling back, bending forward. “Hmmm…” Dean caressed over his ass, down between his legs. Sam was a tense, taught line, bent at the waist. Dean reached around and undid his jeans, dropping them and his boxers with one hand, caressing over the white skin with the other.
The jeans slid down until they were puddle at Sam’s ankles, and Dean kicked his feet as far apart as the restraining denim would allow. Dean’s hand petted over Sam, pushing his shirt up to maximize the amount of naked skin exposed. He glanced up at the window, grinning a little.
There were things Sam thought he could keep from Dean…but Dean had his ways of finding out. He’d known about this for a while, Sam’s secret desire for this…for discipline and public exposure…it went with other desires that Dean wasn’t quite ready to give in to…with a longing to be owned, to be fucked hard with others watching…to be given to another while Dean controlled the action…but this…Dean licked his lips, slipped a hand down Sam’s ass.
His cock was hard, hanging thick and full between his legs. Dean tugged on it once, twice. Sam groaned and dropped his head forward. Dean stepped to Sam’s left side, his right hand sliding down Sam’s back and onto his ass.
His first slap was light, a warning, a bare hand against bare ass. Sam lurched forward, a bit off whimper escaping. Dean rubbed the sting away, tugged once on his cock, then slapped again, twice, hard, leaving two red hand prints on the white of his ass.
Sam responded by pushing his ass back at Dean, as if asking for more. Dean’s eyes darted to the wall, spotted a black leather paddle. He crossed to it, slapping it against his hand twice, making Sam look up.
His eyes were dark, his pupils blown. Dean paused in front of him, holding the paddle between them before leaning in and kissing him. “Your ass is red, Sammy. Gonna be redder.”
“Dean…god…” His voice was breathy and shot through with need. Dean kissed him again, his tongue enveloped in the heat of Sam’s mouth and it was Dean who groaned when he pulled back.
He smoothed the leather down Sam’s back and onto his left cheek. His first two swats were light, almost playful against his left cheek. Each blow after that was successfully harder, until he was taking almost a full swing from shoulder level and Sam was grunting. Five swings on the left. Another five on the right.
Sam’s cock was leaking as Dean paused and rubbed a hand over the heat and sting of Sam’s ass. Dean wet his hand in the pre-come and smeared it over Sam’s cock.
Outside the window the audience had grown from two or three to nearly fifteen. Dean kept one hand on his cock and pressed his leather clad body into Sam’s side. There were tears on Sam’s cheeks and his lips were bitten red and swollen. Dean stroked lightly.
“Gonna teach you to be a good boy, Sammy.” Dean whispered, biting into his shoulder. “Gonna spank you until you can’t stop yourself. Gonna let all those people watch you lose control.”
Sam stiffened a little, glancing over his shoulder until Dean pulled his face back. “No, don’t look at them. Look at me.” Sam’s eyes worked up to him, then dropped. “Look at me.”
Sam sniffed, took a deep breath, and looked up, barely meeting Dean’s eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”
Sam huffed, his eyes wide, his breathing heavy, but he shook his head.
“Words, Sam. Do you want me to stop?”
Sam swallowed hard. “N-no. Please.”
Dean nodded. “Tell me what you do want.”
Defiance sprang to his eyes again. Dean let go of his cock and stood upright, moving to the wall and putting the paddle back. He took his time, his back to Sam, his fingers moving over the paddles and whips and riding crops. His hands fell on one and he heard Sam’s sharp intake of air. He raised an eyebrow and lifted the crop from it’s hooks, turning to Sam.
“Is this what you want?”
“Dean…please…”
Dean tested it against his thigh, cracking it against the leather of his pants. It made a satisfying sound. Sam paled, his eyes unable to leave the long black shaft. “Tell me.”
Sam swallowed again, his eyes closing. “Yes, okay?”
“Yes, what?”
“Fuck.” Sam’s breathing was rapid. He turned his head to the side. “Yes, I want it.”
Dean moved closer, lifting the crop to trace Sam’s cheek. “You want me to use this on your ass?”
Sam nodded. “Yes, Dean. I want it.”
Dean kissed him again before moving to stand behind him again. He caressed reddened skin with the crop, all the way down to Sam’s knees. Again, he started the blows softly, two across the fullness of Sam’s ass. One a little harder on the right, another on the left.
“Fuck.” Sam lurched forward, his hands white knuckled over the top of the chair.
Dean’s next blow went lower, across the underside of his cheeks, into the crease where ass met legs. Dean watched Sam carefully, placing his next blow in the exact same spot, just a little harder.
There were more tears, and Dean could tell he was close to orgasm from the way he was breathing. “Do you want more?”
He nodded, bending further forward. “More, please…please…”
Dean licked his lips, brought the crop up, aiming lower. It struck across the back of his thighs, just kissing his cock between them. Sam hissed and Dean brought it down again, then once more. The last was a little harder…just enough and Sam’s knees buckled, his orgasm quaking through him as he sank to the floor.
Dean sank with him, dropping the crop and pulling Sam close, holding him while his body shivered and sobs wracked through him. Slowly his breathing went back to normal and his head came up, his tear-stained face turning to Dean.
“Happy Birthday Sammy.” Dean whispered, kissing over his cheeks, licking up the tears.
Title: Birthday Spankings
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2206
Summary: For
pyroblaze18, after Sam gives Dean a Christmas to remember in Merry Christmas, Dean, Dean decides to return the favor on Sam's birthday.A/Ns & Warnings: Over here I did that time stamp meme.
pyroblaze18 asked for this. BDMS, spanking, public anticsDean had been watching. Waiting. Planning.
Since Christmas. Since Sam had given him a Christmas gift that had hit nearly every kink Dean could catalogue. And here it was. Sam’s birthday.
They generally didn’t do much for birthdays. But this was different. Sam had upped the ante, and Dean was never one to back down from a challenge.
“Where exactly is this hunt?” Sam asked as Dean emerged from the bathroom. He was dressed for effect, and he could already see it was working.
Black leather, head to toe. Boots, heavy biker boots.
Sam swallowed and looked away. “A club. You don’t have to come.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Sam stood, brushing a hand over his jeans. “I feel a little underdressed.”
“No, it’s good. You’ll fit in.”
Sam raised an eyebrow like he didn’t believe him. “I need to get into the VIP area. You can…keep an eye on the rest of the place. Come on.”
He didn’t give Sam time to think about it, just headed for the car. They weren’t far from the club. Sam’s eyes were wide as they pulled up.
“Dean.”
“You can stay in the car Sam.” Dean said getting out and knowing his brother wasn’t going to stay in the car.
“You should have said something.”
“I did. I said it was a club.”
It was, in fact, a BDSM club. Patrons milled around outside it, all manner of leather and metal and skin on display. Dean headed for the door, felt Sam crowded up behind him, his hand on Dean’s elbow. Dean paid the cover and watched as the bouncer eyed his brother.
“He’s with me.” Dean said possessively, reaching behind him to wrap a hand around Sam’s neck.
“Better keep him close,” the bouncer said, letting them in.
“Here that Sammy? He thinks I should keep you close.” Sam’s eyes darted around them, then came back to Dean’s. There was a little bit of fear there. Fear and arousal and disbelief. Dean grinned. He startled Sam further by pulling him in and kissing him, deep and hard, right there in front of the whole place.
No one here knew them. No one would know their secret. And Dean was relishing the feeling of control. He released Sam and moved into the club. It was dark, with atmospheric red lights that made all the faces seem a little evil. Dean moved through the crowd, knowing Sam was sticking close. He got to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey, turning to look around them. Sam tucked himself in beside Dean, his side to the bar, his chest pressed against Dean’s arm.
“There isn’t any hunt.” Sam said, though there was a note of question in the statement.
Dean didn’t look at him, just sipped at his whiskey and watched the mixed crowd. There were the obvious ones, big men in leather with smaller men on leashes, dykes with pretty little girls on their knees. There were the less obvious, men and women in suits with some pretty thing on their arm. There were the ones trolling, eyeing those around them. The submissive ones seemed to group together in a couple places, heads down, whispering to one another, watching and waiting for someone to claim them. The dominant ones stayed pretty much to themselves, at least until they spotted something they wanted.
“Told you you didn’t have to come.” Dean said, tossing back the shot and flicking a glance at his brother. He turned to him, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. “But we both know you wanted to.”
“I didn’t know…” Sam’s voice trailed off, his eyes wandering off. A big bald man was approaching, his eyes moving over Sam, then flicking to Dean.
“He yours?”
Dean looked at the man, then to Sam. “I don’t know. Are you mine, Sam?”
There was a flare of defiance in his eyes. The look that always came when Sam realized Dean had discovered something about him he thought he’d kept secret.
“No, Dean. I don’t think so.”
Dean shrugged and put his shot glass down, gesturing for another shot. “I guess not.”
The big man smiled and stepped even closer, into Sam’s space, crowding him against the bar. “You look like you need a strong hand.”
Sam paled, wiggled in the constricting space, his eyes skipping to Dean. He was nervous, turned on. Dean downed his second shot and moved to walk away. Sam’s hand shot out and caught his arm. “Where you going?”
“You found a playmate. Figured I’d find my own.”
“Dean.”
“Never mind him.” Dean watched the big man box Sam in, felt Sam’s eyes. “I can handle you.”
Dean was maybe five steps away. He couldn’t really hear Sam’s words, only his voice. He waited for the note of fear, turned. Sam had both hands on the man’s chest, holding him back. Dean watched, waited for his eyes. Then stepped back. “On second thought, this one is mine. Just thought he needed to be reminded.” Dean said, reaching over the man’s arm for Sam’s neck and dragging him away.
“Boy needs discipline,” the big guy said.
Dean nodded, eyeing Sam up and down. “Yes, he does.”
“Dean.” His voice was dark, but soft.
Dean met his eyes. This was it. If Sam really wanted out, now was when it would happen. Sam stared at him, then dropped his eyes. “Good boy.” Dean murmured and Sam blushed.
“There’s a room.” Big Guy said.
Dean watched Sam as he considered it. He hadn’t planned on going that far. Dean pulled Sam closer, tried to gauge what his brother was thinking. His hand brushed over Sam’s groin and damn if he wasn’t hard. “Show me.”
Big Guy pointed, then started moving through the crowd. Dean pushed Sam ahead of him, his hand still on the back of his neck. The room was small, sparsely decorated, with a giant window facing into the club. Thick black velvet curtains could be closed over it. The opposite wall was filled with paddles and riding crops and other tools.
Dean thanked Big Guy and watched him leave. He kept Sam’s back to the window. His hand on Sam’s neck let him read his brother’s reaction. He stood close. “I’m gonna drop your pants Sam, and bend you over and spank your ass.”
Sam shifted his feet, didn’t quite look up at Dean. He licked his lips and nodded once, tight, barely. Dean slowly let go of his neck, slid his hand down Sam’s back. There was a chair. Dean dragged it over, set it in front of Sam. “Hands.”
Sam didn’t really move, but Dean helped, he took Sam’s hands in his and set them on the back of the chair. He was aware of the audience growing outside the window, two or three guys watching. Dean was also aware that Sam didn’t really know it was there, he was too focused on what Dean was doing.
Dean made sure Sam’s hands were secure, then moved behind him, pulling on his hips until Sam understood and adjusted his stance, shuffling back, bending forward. “Hmmm…” Dean caressed over his ass, down between his legs. Sam was a tense, taught line, bent at the waist. Dean reached around and undid his jeans, dropping them and his boxers with one hand, caressing over the white skin with the other.
The jeans slid down until they were puddle at Sam’s ankles, and Dean kicked his feet as far apart as the restraining denim would allow. Dean’s hand petted over Sam, pushing his shirt up to maximize the amount of naked skin exposed. He glanced up at the window, grinning a little.
There were things Sam thought he could keep from Dean…but Dean had his ways of finding out. He’d known about this for a while, Sam’s secret desire for this…for discipline and public exposure…it went with other desires that Dean wasn’t quite ready to give in to…with a longing to be owned, to be fucked hard with others watching…to be given to another while Dean controlled the action…but this…Dean licked his lips, slipped a hand down Sam’s ass.
His cock was hard, hanging thick and full between his legs. Dean tugged on it once, twice. Sam groaned and dropped his head forward. Dean stepped to Sam’s left side, his right hand sliding down Sam’s back and onto his ass.
His first slap was light, a warning, a bare hand against bare ass. Sam lurched forward, a bit off whimper escaping. Dean rubbed the sting away, tugged once on his cock, then slapped again, twice, hard, leaving two red hand prints on the white of his ass.
Sam responded by pushing his ass back at Dean, as if asking for more. Dean’s eyes darted to the wall, spotted a black leather paddle. He crossed to it, slapping it against his hand twice, making Sam look up.
His eyes were dark, his pupils blown. Dean paused in front of him, holding the paddle between them before leaning in and kissing him. “Your ass is red, Sammy. Gonna be redder.”
“Dean…god…” His voice was breathy and shot through with need. Dean kissed him again, his tongue enveloped in the heat of Sam’s mouth and it was Dean who groaned when he pulled back.
He smoothed the leather down Sam’s back and onto his left cheek. His first two swats were light, almost playful against his left cheek. Each blow after that was successfully harder, until he was taking almost a full swing from shoulder level and Sam was grunting. Five swings on the left. Another five on the right.
Sam’s cock was leaking as Dean paused and rubbed a hand over the heat and sting of Sam’s ass. Dean wet his hand in the pre-come and smeared it over Sam’s cock.
Outside the window the audience had grown from two or three to nearly fifteen. Dean kept one hand on his cock and pressed his leather clad body into Sam’s side. There were tears on Sam’s cheeks and his lips were bitten red and swollen. Dean stroked lightly.
“Gonna teach you to be a good boy, Sammy.” Dean whispered, biting into his shoulder. “Gonna spank you until you can’t stop yourself. Gonna let all those people watch you lose control.”
Sam stiffened a little, glancing over his shoulder until Dean pulled his face back. “No, don’t look at them. Look at me.” Sam’s eyes worked up to him, then dropped. “Look at me.”
Sam sniffed, took a deep breath, and looked up, barely meeting Dean’s eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”
Sam huffed, his eyes wide, his breathing heavy, but he shook his head.
“Words, Sam. Do you want me to stop?”
Sam swallowed hard. “N-no. Please.”
Dean nodded. “Tell me what you do want.”
Defiance sprang to his eyes again. Dean let go of his cock and stood upright, moving to the wall and putting the paddle back. He took his time, his back to Sam, his fingers moving over the paddles and whips and riding crops. His hands fell on one and he heard Sam’s sharp intake of air. He raised an eyebrow and lifted the crop from it’s hooks, turning to Sam.
“Is this what you want?”
“Dean…please…”
Dean tested it against his thigh, cracking it against the leather of his pants. It made a satisfying sound. Sam paled, his eyes unable to leave the long black shaft. “Tell me.”
Sam swallowed again, his eyes closing. “Yes, okay?”
“Yes, what?”
“Fuck.” Sam’s breathing was rapid. He turned his head to the side. “Yes, I want it.”
Dean moved closer, lifting the crop to trace Sam’s cheek. “You want me to use this on your ass?”
Sam nodded. “Yes, Dean. I want it.”
Dean kissed him again before moving to stand behind him again. He caressed reddened skin with the crop, all the way down to Sam’s knees. Again, he started the blows softly, two across the fullness of Sam’s ass. One a little harder on the right, another on the left.
“Fuck.” Sam lurched forward, his hands white knuckled over the top of the chair.
Dean’s next blow went lower, across the underside of his cheeks, into the crease where ass met legs. Dean watched Sam carefully, placing his next blow in the exact same spot, just a little harder.
There were more tears, and Dean could tell he was close to orgasm from the way he was breathing. “Do you want more?”
He nodded, bending further forward. “More, please…please…”
Dean licked his lips, brought the crop up, aiming lower. It struck across the back of his thighs, just kissing his cock between them. Sam hissed and Dean brought it down again, then once more. The last was a little harder…just enough and Sam’s knees buckled, his orgasm quaking through him as he sank to the floor.
Dean sank with him, dropping the crop and pulling Sam close, holding him while his body shivered and sobs wracked through him. Slowly his breathing went back to normal and his head came up, his tear-stained face turning to Dean.
“Happy Birthday Sammy.” Dean whispered, kissing over his cheeks, licking up the tears.