![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Teaching (A sequel to The Demons Winchester
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Sam, John
Rating: Very NC-17
Word Count: 1214
Summary: Following his ascension, Dean feels the need to teach Sam a lesson about the new order of things.
A/Ns & Warnings: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kassidy62 on the occassion of her birthday. This is Demon Winchesters, people. Dark, twisted, evil. Serious non-con. Knife-play, blood-play, use of unusual objects. Ownership.
“Out.” Dean shoved his father toward the door. “Me and Sam got business.”
The house was dark, the former occupants little more than bloody piles of bones. Sam’s eyes were dark and defiant, but there was no denying that Dean was in charge here, and Dean would get exactly what he wanted.
John muttered something about watching, but left anyway. Dean shoved the door closed from where he stood. Sam watched him. It had been two weeks since the ascension. Two weeks of moving and adjusting, and now…now Dean needed Sam to understand…really understand.
He pushed Sam toward the kitchen. He didn’t need words to make this lesson come home. He ripped Sam’s shirt off of him, peeled the jeans off, left him standing naked. That was about as far as Sam’s submission went, though. He’d let Dean rough him up a little, but he bristled and pulled away.
Dean reached out with the power, wrapped around his brother, squeezing until Sam staggered. “You belong to me.”
“Fuck you.” Sam managed, fighting.
Dean slammed him to the table, face first. There was a sickening crunch as his brother’s nose broke. Dean held him to the table and pulled out his cock. He was hard and needing a good fuck. This was going to be as good as any. Sam was still fighting against the invisible hands holding him down, cursing Dean as he moved in behind his brother.
He shoved in, feeling the warmth as his un-prepped ass tore to make room for Dean’s cock. Sam yelled into the wood of the table. Dean shoved in, the table raking across the floor as he thrust up and in.
He hadn’t had any serious fucking since the morning after the ritual, after taking the world’s biggest cock up his ass to seal his ascension. They’d had to move and keep moving. And, while Dean had made sure his father and Sam both knew who they belonged to now, morning blow jobs weren’t enough any more.
Dean drew bloody lines down Sam’s back as he fucked, leaning in to lick up the blood. “Taste good Sammy. So much better now. You can’t even imagine.”
Sam was struggling, and for the moment, Dean let him. By the time he was done, his brother would know his place in the new order of things. Of course, that meant he’d be looking for payback once he’d ascended, but that was almost four years away. Dean was going to enjoy himself in the meantime…and Sammy…well, Sammy was just going to have to learn.
The table connected with the counter with a thud as Dean fucked into Sam. Sam was grunting, his hands scraping at the wood. His cock was hard and Dean reached under him to pull on it. Not that he really cared if Sam came with him or not, but because he knew his brother didn’t want to. He didn’t want this, not like this.
Sam liked being the one delivering the torment. His own cock was getting needier, so Dean turned his attention back to fucking Sam’s ass. He held Sam’s hips and slammed in, fast, hard, deep until he was coming, roaring out his pleasure. His cock was coated with blood and come when he pulled out. Sam panted and started to push himself up.
Dean pushed him back down. “I’m not done with you.”
“Dean—“ Dean squeezed and Sam gasped. “Okay…Okay.” He laid back against the table.
Dean stuck a finger inside him, swirled it around in the sticky mess and painted over the skin of his ass with it. He wasn’t done, but not sure exactly what should come next. Then his eyes fell on the block of knives on the counter. Not exactly as nice as their collection, but they would do.
Sam’s eyes followed him as he went to the block and pulled out a couple of steak knives. Dean grinned. “Remember that bitch in Detroit, Sammy? She bled for days.”
Dean scratched down Sam’s back with the tips of the blades, down to the red circle of his asshole. Sam stilled when Dean kept going, over his ass and down to his cock. Not that Dean would actually cut it off…but he wasn’t against…He watched Sam as he pressed against the flesh, watched him tremble. Dean could taste the words Sam wouldn’t say, the begging he wouldn’t do.
The cut was tiny, just a flick of the tip of the knife against the hard length. Sam’s body arched up and his cock spewed onto the floor. Dean raised an eyebrow. That was unexpected. He closed a hand over his brother’s cock, pressing against the wound, milking him while Sam moaned, his nails scraping against the wood under his hands.
When Sam’s moans gave way to more desperate sounds and his cock was no longer giving him anything, Dean stood, abandoning the steak knives for something else.
Sam had carved grooves into the table with his nails. Dean petted over his left hand. Sam lifted his head, watching as Dean settled the bread knife against his skin. The serrated edge would hurt so much more than the smooth ones. Dean pressed down, watching Sam’s eyes. They were hard, defiant…then shattered and giving as the blood welled up. Then they closed, his face falling back to the table as he surrendered. Dean licked up the blood, then lifted Sam’s head with a fist in his hair, kissing him and sharing the warm taste.
“Mine, little brother. I could kill you if I wanted to.” Sam nodded slightly. Dean smiled. “But I only want to hurt you a little.” Dean said. Sam screamed as the knife bit through his hand and into the table. Dean kissed him again, hard, swallowing the scream before he stood.
He was just getting started.
It was nearly dawn when the door opened. “Is it safe to come in?”
Dean looked up at his father from his place on the couch. The television droned on in the corner, but Dean hadn’t really been watching it. “Yeah, I’m done.”
John stepped in, looking around for Sam. “Where’s your brother?”
Dean pointed to the kitchen. “Resting.” He said it with a chuckle. In fact, Sam had finally passed out on him, and Dean had gotten bored. He roused himself and followed his father into the kitchen.
“Holy fuck, Dean.”
Dean grinned. He was pleased with himself. Sam was still on the table where Dean had left him, covered in come and blood, a chair leg sticking out of his ass. John pulled the knife out of Sam’s hand and Sam stirred.
“You all right boy?”
Sam nodded shakily and Dean put his hand on the chair leg. Sam’s cock was instantly hard again. Dean chuckled and pulled it out, watching as Sam’s cock emptied onto the floor, adding to the slimy mess there from the last two times he’d come.
“Get him cleaned up. We shouldn’t stick around too long.”
Dean watched his father help Sam out of the kitchen. By the time they got on the road, Sam would be recovered enough to be resentful. Which only meant Dean would have to teach this lesson again. Dean grinned to himself, stroking his cock through his jeans. He liked teaching.
Title: Teaching (A sequel to The Demons Winchester
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Sam, John
Rating: Very NC-17
Word Count: 1214
Summary: Following his ascension, Dean feels the need to teach Sam a lesson about the new order of things.
A/Ns & Warnings: For
kassidy62 on the occassion of her birthday. This is Demon Winchesters, people. Dark, twisted, evil. Serious non-con. Knife-play, blood-play, use of unusual objects. Ownership. “Out.” Dean shoved his father toward the door. “Me and Sam got business.”
The house was dark, the former occupants little more than bloody piles of bones. Sam’s eyes were dark and defiant, but there was no denying that Dean was in charge here, and Dean would get exactly what he wanted.
John muttered something about watching, but left anyway. Dean shoved the door closed from where he stood. Sam watched him. It had been two weeks since the ascension. Two weeks of moving and adjusting, and now…now Dean needed Sam to understand…really understand.
He pushed Sam toward the kitchen. He didn’t need words to make this lesson come home. He ripped Sam’s shirt off of him, peeled the jeans off, left him standing naked. That was about as far as Sam’s submission went, though. He’d let Dean rough him up a little, but he bristled and pulled away.
Dean reached out with the power, wrapped around his brother, squeezing until Sam staggered. “You belong to me.”
“Fuck you.” Sam managed, fighting.
Dean slammed him to the table, face first. There was a sickening crunch as his brother’s nose broke. Dean held him to the table and pulled out his cock. He was hard and needing a good fuck. This was going to be as good as any. Sam was still fighting against the invisible hands holding him down, cursing Dean as he moved in behind his brother.
He shoved in, feeling the warmth as his un-prepped ass tore to make room for Dean’s cock. Sam yelled into the wood of the table. Dean shoved in, the table raking across the floor as he thrust up and in.
He hadn’t had any serious fucking since the morning after the ritual, after taking the world’s biggest cock up his ass to seal his ascension. They’d had to move and keep moving. And, while Dean had made sure his father and Sam both knew who they belonged to now, morning blow jobs weren’t enough any more.
Dean drew bloody lines down Sam’s back as he fucked, leaning in to lick up the blood. “Taste good Sammy. So much better now. You can’t even imagine.”
Sam was struggling, and for the moment, Dean let him. By the time he was done, his brother would know his place in the new order of things. Of course, that meant he’d be looking for payback once he’d ascended, but that was almost four years away. Dean was going to enjoy himself in the meantime…and Sammy…well, Sammy was just going to have to learn.
The table connected with the counter with a thud as Dean fucked into Sam. Sam was grunting, his hands scraping at the wood. His cock was hard and Dean reached under him to pull on it. Not that he really cared if Sam came with him or not, but because he knew his brother didn’t want to. He didn’t want this, not like this.
Sam liked being the one delivering the torment. His own cock was getting needier, so Dean turned his attention back to fucking Sam’s ass. He held Sam’s hips and slammed in, fast, hard, deep until he was coming, roaring out his pleasure. His cock was coated with blood and come when he pulled out. Sam panted and started to push himself up.
Dean pushed him back down. “I’m not done with you.”
“Dean—“ Dean squeezed and Sam gasped. “Okay…Okay.” He laid back against the table.
Dean stuck a finger inside him, swirled it around in the sticky mess and painted over the skin of his ass with it. He wasn’t done, but not sure exactly what should come next. Then his eyes fell on the block of knives on the counter. Not exactly as nice as their collection, but they would do.
Sam’s eyes followed him as he went to the block and pulled out a couple of steak knives. Dean grinned. “Remember that bitch in Detroit, Sammy? She bled for days.”
Dean scratched down Sam’s back with the tips of the blades, down to the red circle of his asshole. Sam stilled when Dean kept going, over his ass and down to his cock. Not that Dean would actually cut it off…but he wasn’t against…He watched Sam as he pressed against the flesh, watched him tremble. Dean could taste the words Sam wouldn’t say, the begging he wouldn’t do.
The cut was tiny, just a flick of the tip of the knife against the hard length. Sam’s body arched up and his cock spewed onto the floor. Dean raised an eyebrow. That was unexpected. He closed a hand over his brother’s cock, pressing against the wound, milking him while Sam moaned, his nails scraping against the wood under his hands.
When Sam’s moans gave way to more desperate sounds and his cock was no longer giving him anything, Dean stood, abandoning the steak knives for something else.
Sam had carved grooves into the table with his nails. Dean petted over his left hand. Sam lifted his head, watching as Dean settled the bread knife against his skin. The serrated edge would hurt so much more than the smooth ones. Dean pressed down, watching Sam’s eyes. They were hard, defiant…then shattered and giving as the blood welled up. Then they closed, his face falling back to the table as he surrendered. Dean licked up the blood, then lifted Sam’s head with a fist in his hair, kissing him and sharing the warm taste.
“Mine, little brother. I could kill you if I wanted to.” Sam nodded slightly. Dean smiled. “But I only want to hurt you a little.” Dean said. Sam screamed as the knife bit through his hand and into the table. Dean kissed him again, hard, swallowing the scream before he stood.
He was just getting started.
It was nearly dawn when the door opened. “Is it safe to come in?”
Dean looked up at his father from his place on the couch. The television droned on in the corner, but Dean hadn’t really been watching it. “Yeah, I’m done.”
John stepped in, looking around for Sam. “Where’s your brother?”
Dean pointed to the kitchen. “Resting.” He said it with a chuckle. In fact, Sam had finally passed out on him, and Dean had gotten bored. He roused himself and followed his father into the kitchen.
“Holy fuck, Dean.”
Dean grinned. He was pleased with himself. Sam was still on the table where Dean had left him, covered in come and blood, a chair leg sticking out of his ass. John pulled the knife out of Sam’s hand and Sam stirred.
“You all right boy?”
Sam nodded shakily and Dean put his hand on the chair leg. Sam’s cock was instantly hard again. Dean chuckled and pulled it out, watching as Sam’s cock emptied onto the floor, adding to the slimy mess there from the last two times he’d come.
“Get him cleaned up. We shouldn’t stick around too long.”
Dean watched his father help Sam out of the kitchen. By the time they got on the road, Sam would be recovered enough to be resentful. Which only meant Dean would have to teach this lesson again. Dean grinned to himself, stroking his cock through his jeans. He liked teaching.
