Fic: SPN (Gordan/Dean): Payback | R | 1810 words
Title: Payback
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Gordan/Dean
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Slight spoilers for episode 2.10 "Hunted" and a warning for non-con molestation.
Summary: I have no intention of hurting Dean. The thought that I might, though, is showing on his face and, I’ve got to admit, it is sweet. He looks so nice tied to the chair like he is. I just want a little bit of payback for what he did. He can even enjoy this if he lets himself.
Word Count: 1810
A/N: So. Supernatural's in syndication and guess what episode was playing today? =) And have I mentioned just how happy I am that the semester's over?
This fic now has a sequel: So Damn Sweet
I’d really been planning on beating his ass. I’d pictured it, thought about how sweet it would be. I knew it wasn’t all just vengeance, either. It wasn’t just the thought of getting back at him for leaving me tied up-him and his brother. I’d sat there for three days and God knows that I’d want a little payback for that but it wasn't just that that kept me dwelling on the Winchesters.
It was wrong, it was shameful but what kept me coming back to those thoughts wasn’t exacting justice-it was thinking about the look on Dean’s face when I beat him down.
Shameful, probably, but only natural after all the teasing he’d put me through. I’m not normally that way, but I will take it when it’s offered and he was definitely offering that first time I’d met him. He was practically throwing himself at me-who was I to say no?
But then… All of “that” had happened and, well, it just hadn’t worked out. So it’s been haunting me-what might have happened. What I want to have happened.
So a little payback mixed with that? It’s been sitting heavy.
I hadn’t even really expected to meet him here. I’d heard Sam was alone but then, I suppose I should have counted on him not being far behind Sam no matter what issues they were working through. Finding Dean, that was more like an added bonus.
It’s not that I want to hurt either one of them, not really. It’s nothing personal. Just teach them a little lesson about being careful who they side against. Putting Sam down, well, that’s just part of the job. Dean, though... Dean, I have no intention of hurting.
The thought that I might, though, is showing on his face and, I’ve got to admit, it is sweet. I like that little bit of terror in his eyes. It…really brings out his beauty. He looks so nice tied to the chair like he is-it takes away his usual masks and the restraints add a bit of helplessness to him that is quite flattering.
He’s got a delicateness to his face that you just don’t see on many guys-must have got it from his mother. He’s really too pretty for his own good-I wonder if he knows that. He’s got to. A face that pretty doesn’t go without being noticed for long. I wonder how many offers he’s turned down. If he’s had to force the issue.
He can’t do that now, though-not with the ropes holding him down, forcing him to sit in wait for my whims. He’s still glaring at me, already having given me the brunt of his tongue, all wisecracks and swaggering bluster. I haven’t let it get to me. I’m above all that. I won’t rise to bait no matter what he throws at me because I’m focused. I know what I want-and it’s not his anger.
I promised him that his brother’s death will be quick-I can give him that much. The other thing I can promise him is that he can enjoy this if he lets himself. Of course, it’s going to involve lowering himself a little, hurting his pride, because otherwise where’s the justice.
That little hint of terror grows as I step in between his bound legs but he keeps his eyes level and his face steel. John should be proud. I reach out and touch that too-pretty face, testing to see if his skin is as soft as I thought it would be and he jerks away. “Man, what the Hell are you doing?” he demands but I ignore him. This is probably a little new to him, so I’ll let him get away with a little bit of back talk. I stroke down his neck, feeling him swallow and reach his chest which is starting to rise and fall rapidly. “Gettin’ a little touchy-feely there, aren’t we, Gordie?” he asks and his tone betrays his fear.
I smile. “Oh Dean.” It hangs in the air, a threat and a promise all at once. I want to see him smile again but that would mean giving up the sweet uncertainty that’s making his eyes wide and his lower lip drop enticingly. I touch a finger to that lip, feeling the residual wetness of it and his breath as it shudders out before he turns his head.
“Sick bastard,” he growls to the wall, sitting there so helpless and perfect, and I’ve got to refute it.
“You can’t tell me that no one’s ever wanted this from you before,” I tell him. Dean’s a born tease-he can’t sell me on being innocent. He hasn’t been innocent in a long time.
Dean’s eyes go flat and he rolls them over to look at me. It’s a dare, plain and simple. He probably thinks it’s a warning, but I know better. What could he possibly do to me? So I take him up on it and slide my hands down his chest, pushing underneath his layers of clothes as I explore the hard muscle underneath.
He’s got a good body-there’s no denying that either. I flick my thumbs over his nipples, watching as he tries to hide his shudder. His jaw clenches and he focuses back on the wall, trying to pretend this isn’t happening. So I repeat the motion. He sucks in a breath with a hiss, his stomach muscles jumping so I move down to them, tracing a path along the hard lines of his body. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” I ask him, throwing his half-articulated desires from our first meeting back at him.
He finally turns back to face me, pretty mouth twisted into a sneer. “Your technique sucks,” he says. “Didn’t anybody teach you it’s not nice to tie people up on the first date?”
“Oh, but this isn’t our first date,” I tell him as I flirt with the waistband of his jeans. “More like third or maybe fourth.”
He’s trying to inch away from me, sucking in his stomach but I think we’re both aware how useless the entire gesture is. I pop the button on his jeans-“Gordon!”-and pull the zipper down. “I swear I’ll kill you!”
“Shh,” I tell him and slip inside the gap of his fly. I feel the softness of his underwear and quietly move them out of the way as he begins to pant and try to squirm away. “You’ll like this,” I say.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” he shouts, yanking at his ropes. The chair moves a few inches from his efforts and if he keeps this up, he’s going to knock it over.
So I backhand him, a sharp crack across his face that has his head whipping to the side. “Careful,” I warn him. “You wouldn’t want me to get angry.”
He swallows hard and flinches away from me as I continue exploring inside his jeans, but he’s stopped moving the chair and he doesn’t say a word. He pulls his hips back as far as he can manage but that doesn’t stop me from being able to reach his dick. It’s warm but limp when I touch it-soft and pliable, but we can fix that. He whines, low in his throat as I begin to stroke but he can’t stop his own nature.
This is what Dean was made for after all.
His eyes slide closed and he bites down on his lip, trying to deny himself and failing. I reach up and touch that pretty mouth, stopping him from abusing it more by forcing it open and it kills two birds with one stone by not letting his muffle his gasps and soft moans. “…swear to God…” he says and I shake his head with my hand, just a warning for him.
I help his cock out of his underwear, not wishing it to smear inside the fabric-I know how uncomfortable that can be. It’s hard in my hand now, no matter how much he’s tried to be otherwise and I tug on him steadily. His hips start to thrust, following instinct, and I reward him by swiping my thumb over the head of his dick, making him jerk and gasp.
My other hand is still on his mouth, tracing his lips, feeling his breath as it rushes out. He licks his lips and the soft wetness brushes my fingertips, making me shiver. “That’s a good boy,” I tell him, keeping my voice low and steady and watching with interest the way the full-body shiver runs through him. He moans again, keeping his eyes closed, and licks out one more time, a deliberate tease this time instead of an accidental one. His tongue slicks my fingers in a half-offered promise that I desperately wish I could take. If only.
It’s too much of a risk, though, that he would bite off anything I put in there, regardless of the consequences. So I have to just content myself with this. I give him a quick nuzzle against his ear as I speed up my rhythm, jerking him hard and fast. “Maybe later,” I say. “If you’re really good.”
His breath hitches, his eyes opening wide as he tosses his head back and slams his hips as far forward as he can manage, coming in thick ropes that fall to the floor. “Fu-uck,” he gasps and I give him a few soothing strokes, working him through the aftershocks. His head lolls to the side, no doubt his world reeling just a little and I smile. I really like him like this-confused and vulnerable. It’s a good look on him.
But we can make it even better. “Thanks for the show, Dean,” I tell him, bringing it home what just happened.
He snaps back to attention, staring at me looking wrecked and I’ve got to say it’s just as sweet as I’d thought it would be, his pretty green eyes wide and disbelieving. I give him a final caress and tuck him gently back into his jeans. He doesn’t say a word, his usually razor sharp tongue dulled for once and I pat his cheek before moving to sit in wait for little Sammy.
I still owe him some more and frankly, my own dick is trying to bust through my jeans but there’s no time and the job’s got to come first. Maybe after we’re done here, we can continue this little game. I don’t think anybody would notice if Dean Winchester went missing for a little while and the allure of stretching that sweet body out over a bed is really just too much for me to resist.
I’m only human, after all.
And it’s really time that we settled our little debt. With interest.
On to So Damn Sweet
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Gordan/Dean
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Slight spoilers for episode 2.10 "Hunted" and a warning for non-con molestation.
Summary: I have no intention of hurting Dean. The thought that I might, though, is showing on his face and, I’ve got to admit, it is sweet. He looks so nice tied to the chair like he is. I just want a little bit of payback for what he did. He can even enjoy this if he lets himself.
Word Count: 1810
A/N: So. Supernatural's in syndication and guess what episode was playing today? =) And have I mentioned just how happy I am that the semester's over?
This fic now has a sequel: So Damn Sweet
I’d really been planning on beating his ass. I’d pictured it, thought about how sweet it would be. I knew it wasn’t all just vengeance, either. It wasn’t just the thought of getting back at him for leaving me tied up-him and his brother. I’d sat there for three days and God knows that I’d want a little payback for that but it wasn't just that that kept me dwelling on the Winchesters.
It was wrong, it was shameful but what kept me coming back to those thoughts wasn’t exacting justice-it was thinking about the look on Dean’s face when I beat him down.
Shameful, probably, but only natural after all the teasing he’d put me through. I’m not normally that way, but I will take it when it’s offered and he was definitely offering that first time I’d met him. He was practically throwing himself at me-who was I to say no?
But then… All of “that” had happened and, well, it just hadn’t worked out. So it’s been haunting me-what might have happened. What I want to have happened.
So a little payback mixed with that? It’s been sitting heavy.
I hadn’t even really expected to meet him here. I’d heard Sam was alone but then, I suppose I should have counted on him not being far behind Sam no matter what issues they were working through. Finding Dean, that was more like an added bonus.
It’s not that I want to hurt either one of them, not really. It’s nothing personal. Just teach them a little lesson about being careful who they side against. Putting Sam down, well, that’s just part of the job. Dean, though... Dean, I have no intention of hurting.
The thought that I might, though, is showing on his face and, I’ve got to admit, it is sweet. I like that little bit of terror in his eyes. It…really brings out his beauty. He looks so nice tied to the chair like he is-it takes away his usual masks and the restraints add a bit of helplessness to him that is quite flattering.
He’s got a delicateness to his face that you just don’t see on many guys-must have got it from his mother. He’s really too pretty for his own good-I wonder if he knows that. He’s got to. A face that pretty doesn’t go without being noticed for long. I wonder how many offers he’s turned down. If he’s had to force the issue.
He can’t do that now, though-not with the ropes holding him down, forcing him to sit in wait for my whims. He’s still glaring at me, already having given me the brunt of his tongue, all wisecracks and swaggering bluster. I haven’t let it get to me. I’m above all that. I won’t rise to bait no matter what he throws at me because I’m focused. I know what I want-and it’s not his anger.
I promised him that his brother’s death will be quick-I can give him that much. The other thing I can promise him is that he can enjoy this if he lets himself. Of course, it’s going to involve lowering himself a little, hurting his pride, because otherwise where’s the justice.
That little hint of terror grows as I step in between his bound legs but he keeps his eyes level and his face steel. John should be proud. I reach out and touch that too-pretty face, testing to see if his skin is as soft as I thought it would be and he jerks away. “Man, what the Hell are you doing?” he demands but I ignore him. This is probably a little new to him, so I’ll let him get away with a little bit of back talk. I stroke down his neck, feeling him swallow and reach his chest which is starting to rise and fall rapidly. “Gettin’ a little touchy-feely there, aren’t we, Gordie?” he asks and his tone betrays his fear.
I smile. “Oh Dean.” It hangs in the air, a threat and a promise all at once. I want to see him smile again but that would mean giving up the sweet uncertainty that’s making his eyes wide and his lower lip drop enticingly. I touch a finger to that lip, feeling the residual wetness of it and his breath as it shudders out before he turns his head.
“Sick bastard,” he growls to the wall, sitting there so helpless and perfect, and I’ve got to refute it.
“You can’t tell me that no one’s ever wanted this from you before,” I tell him. Dean’s a born tease-he can’t sell me on being innocent. He hasn’t been innocent in a long time.
Dean’s eyes go flat and he rolls them over to look at me. It’s a dare, plain and simple. He probably thinks it’s a warning, but I know better. What could he possibly do to me? So I take him up on it and slide my hands down his chest, pushing underneath his layers of clothes as I explore the hard muscle underneath.
He’s got a good body-there’s no denying that either. I flick my thumbs over his nipples, watching as he tries to hide his shudder. His jaw clenches and he focuses back on the wall, trying to pretend this isn’t happening. So I repeat the motion. He sucks in a breath with a hiss, his stomach muscles jumping so I move down to them, tracing a path along the hard lines of his body. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” I ask him, throwing his half-articulated desires from our first meeting back at him.
He finally turns back to face me, pretty mouth twisted into a sneer. “Your technique sucks,” he says. “Didn’t anybody teach you it’s not nice to tie people up on the first date?”
“Oh, but this isn’t our first date,” I tell him as I flirt with the waistband of his jeans. “More like third or maybe fourth.”
He’s trying to inch away from me, sucking in his stomach but I think we’re both aware how useless the entire gesture is. I pop the button on his jeans-“Gordon!”-and pull the zipper down. “I swear I’ll kill you!”
“Shh,” I tell him and slip inside the gap of his fly. I feel the softness of his underwear and quietly move them out of the way as he begins to pant and try to squirm away. “You’ll like this,” I say.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” he shouts, yanking at his ropes. The chair moves a few inches from his efforts and if he keeps this up, he’s going to knock it over.
So I backhand him, a sharp crack across his face that has his head whipping to the side. “Careful,” I warn him. “You wouldn’t want me to get angry.”
He swallows hard and flinches away from me as I continue exploring inside his jeans, but he’s stopped moving the chair and he doesn’t say a word. He pulls his hips back as far as he can manage but that doesn’t stop me from being able to reach his dick. It’s warm but limp when I touch it-soft and pliable, but we can fix that. He whines, low in his throat as I begin to stroke but he can’t stop his own nature.
This is what Dean was made for after all.
His eyes slide closed and he bites down on his lip, trying to deny himself and failing. I reach up and touch that pretty mouth, stopping him from abusing it more by forcing it open and it kills two birds with one stone by not letting his muffle his gasps and soft moans. “…swear to God…” he says and I shake his head with my hand, just a warning for him.
I help his cock out of his underwear, not wishing it to smear inside the fabric-I know how uncomfortable that can be. It’s hard in my hand now, no matter how much he’s tried to be otherwise and I tug on him steadily. His hips start to thrust, following instinct, and I reward him by swiping my thumb over the head of his dick, making him jerk and gasp.
My other hand is still on his mouth, tracing his lips, feeling his breath as it rushes out. He licks his lips and the soft wetness brushes my fingertips, making me shiver. “That’s a good boy,” I tell him, keeping my voice low and steady and watching with interest the way the full-body shiver runs through him. He moans again, keeping his eyes closed, and licks out one more time, a deliberate tease this time instead of an accidental one. His tongue slicks my fingers in a half-offered promise that I desperately wish I could take. If only.
It’s too much of a risk, though, that he would bite off anything I put in there, regardless of the consequences. So I have to just content myself with this. I give him a quick nuzzle against his ear as I speed up my rhythm, jerking him hard and fast. “Maybe later,” I say. “If you’re really good.”
His breath hitches, his eyes opening wide as he tosses his head back and slams his hips as far forward as he can manage, coming in thick ropes that fall to the floor. “Fu-uck,” he gasps and I give him a few soothing strokes, working him through the aftershocks. His head lolls to the side, no doubt his world reeling just a little and I smile. I really like him like this-confused and vulnerable. It’s a good look on him.
But we can make it even better. “Thanks for the show, Dean,” I tell him, bringing it home what just happened.
He snaps back to attention, staring at me looking wrecked and I’ve got to say it’s just as sweet as I’d thought it would be, his pretty green eyes wide and disbelieving. I give him a final caress and tuck him gently back into his jeans. He doesn’t say a word, his usually razor sharp tongue dulled for once and I pat his cheek before moving to sit in wait for little Sammy.
I still owe him some more and frankly, my own dick is trying to bust through my jeans but there’s no time and the job’s got to come first. Maybe after we’re done here, we can continue this little game. I don’t think anybody would notice if Dean Winchester went missing for a little while and the allure of stretching that sweet body out over a bed is really just too much for me to resist.
I’m only human, after all.
And it’s really time that we settled our little debt. With interest.
On to So Damn Sweet