Denial Ch 2
Dean trotted out of the police station, file in hand, and a victorious smirk on his face.
“Got ‘em, now,” he said to Adam as he dropped into the waiting Impala. “The traffic cams picked something up.”
The youngest Winchester took the folder when Dean held it out. Inside were photos taken by the cameras. They showed Sam leaving the motel in the Impala, and two cars obviously following him. A red truck---the one they found abandoned---and a burgundy El Camino. “He was ambushed?”
“Looks like.” Dean nodded, smirk fading. "They followed him down the road. The cameras lost them about a mile away. But,” he reached over and flipped the pages. “They caught the El Camino coming back into town a few minutes later.”
The pictures showed more than that. Dean had collected enough to trace the car’s entire route through town, to the north side, where the car took a sudden right and headed east.
“We know which direction they went, at least.” Adam agreed. He hoped this was worth the wait. It had taken Dean the better part of the day to worm his way into the police station and dig through the footage.
Sam had been missing for over 24 hours already.
“It’s a start. Can’t be much in the direction they went.” Dean agreed. Adam heard the unspoken thought. So long as they stopped somewhere and didn’t just keep driving.
“Let’s get going,” Dean said, loosening his tie as he threw the Impala into reverse.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
Sam had been alone for several hours, his own panting and moaning the only sounds he heard. His dick was still rock hard---Sam was pretty sure he could cut glass with it---and the need to come was still there, settled over his mind and body like a thick fog. It obscured nearly all thought, leaving Sam drifting, disoriented.
His captors were gone---sleeping maybe, Sam couldn’t be sure how long he had been there---and in their absence the urges had reached a plateau, no better, still mind-warping in their intensity, but at least not constantly growing worse with each turn of Shepard’s ring.
But a boring day in Hell was still a day in Hell. Sam was alone with his relentless urges and the same monotonous thoughts.
Come.... Please…. Hurts….
Sam’s breath hitched between pants as he choked out a sob. Pain and need warred in his body, sapping his strength. His arms and legs pulled against their restraints, more a nervous twitch than any coordinated effort. His biceps and thighs ached with exertion, but they no longer possessed the strength to affect the bindings.
Come.... Please…. Hurts….
The only thing that penetrated the haze of need and desperation he resided in was the occasional spike of pain from his abused dick. Max had done a thorough job tormenting him. Had the ring allowed it, Sam would have come many times under the other hunter’s touch.
But, he couldn’t come. Shepard wouldn’t let him, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much Sam begged and screamed.
The door opened, the sound interrupting the constant chant of come.... please…. hurts….in Sam’s brain. He tried to raise his head, but couldn’t, so he just rolled it until he could see Shepard and Max walking into the room.
Break’s over, Sam.
“Wakey, wakey,” Max sing-songed. It didn’t make sense to Sam…he wasn’t asleep. Who could sleep when your dick was---?
“We’ve been talking, Sam,” Shepard said, kneeling beside Sam’s head as he often did. “Max and I have decided that you’re just too good at lying. This simple punishment isn’t going to get you to admit anything.”
Punishment? Right. Punishment. Sam had done…something, and he was being punished. That’s right….
“You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong. So, we need to break through that stubborn streak of yours. Crack your shell, and maybe then we can get what we need.”
That got Sam’s attention. He nodded as vigorously as he could, which wasn’t much. “Need…yes…come…please, come….need to come….”
“Shh, shh,” Shepard patted the center of Sam’s heaving chest. “You’ll come when you tell us the truth. Max, here, brought something that should help.”
Sam’s eyes darted between the two men. Max was settling onto his knees beside Sam’s cot, level with Sam’s waist. In his hand, Sam could see something that looked like a miniature whip. Shepard’s hand left Sam’s chest, and suddenly a wave of sheer need crashed over him, intensifying the urges that were already pulsing through his body.
“Nuhh! Ughhhh---!”
Snap.
“AHHHHH-AHHHH!” Fire erupted in a thin line across the tip of his tender, throbbing cock, leaving Sam screaming so hard he couldn’t breathe. The new pain made him see stars. Sam cut his eyes toward Shepard, wanting to ask what had happened. Shepard just twisted the ring.
“UGHHH---!”
Snap.
“Ahhhh-AHHHH!”
Snap.
“AHHH-AHHHH-AHHHHHHH!”
The pain was overwhelming. His cock was on fire, had to be. Sam couldn’t think, could barely suck in air.
“It’s a ball whip. Max found it in a…specialty shop a few months back. He has a lot of fun with it when he’s got friends over. He thinks it’s just what we need to finally break you.” Shepard grinned and touched the ring.
“Ughhhh-UGHHHHH!”
“Now, Sam, you started the Apocalypse on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted it.”
No. No, that wasn’t right. The denial bubbled up through the haze. “N-n-no! Ruby--- Ruby--- She t-tricked----!”
Snap.
“AHHHH-AHHHHH!”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“AH-AH-AHHHH-AHHHHH! AHAHHH!”
The fire spread, like thin lines of lava dripping down his cock. Sam rolled his head to face Shepard, eyes pleading with the smiling man. “P-plea---”
Snap.
“AHHHHHHHHHHH! P-please! PLEASE!”
Shepard sighed. “I can see this is going to take a while.”
He twisted the ring.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
The two lane road led them all the way to the north side of Reno, then turned east. The series of traffic camera photos ended there.
“We’re on our own,” Dean muttered, steering the Impala to follow the empty road.
Adam laid the photos down on the seat. “What do you think is out here?”
Dean pressed his lips together tightly, anxiety ratcheting up. “Not much. Hopefully, our brother.”
Adam nodded, expression hardening---reminding Dean a lot of Sammy when he was determined to get a job done---then he turned to watch the road. It was getting dark, the last rays of the sunset glowing in the rear-view mirror. The road had few lights, and they were getting scarcer.
As shadows fell over the car, Dean couldn’t help but think about the year they’d had. The Apocalypse, Lucifer, Michael, the four Horsemen. So many battles. So many deaths.
Sam, Adam and a few friends like Bobby were all he had left. Knowing that some yahoos had taken his brother for God knew what reason gnawed at his insides. They could be wackos, kidnappers, hunters, anyone.
Part of him hoped they weren’t hunters. If they were, they probably knew something about Sam, something that made them angry. He knew demons had been dropping their names a lot since Lucifer had been forced back into his cage. Wanted to smear the Winchester name as much as they could. Hunters would believe what they heard.
Dean had been looking over his should a lot in the past few months, and he knew Sam had, too. They were wanted men. Except, unlike the past, they weren’t being hunted by the cops or the Feds. They were being hunted by their own kind.
That made it worse. It was hard enough to find allies among hunters as it was, with so many grudges and vendettas and plain old crazy circulating through the loose-knit community. The deaths of more level heads like Jim Murphy, Caleb, Ellen and Jo made it worse. In some ways, the inmates were running the asylum these days.
Dean blinked. An old, two story building loomed on the horizon. “Hey,” he nudged Adam, who had already noticed it.
The younger man pulled out the binoculars from beneath the seat, giving the approaching building a once-over. “Kinda looks like a hospital…no lights, though.”
Dean nodded, noticing a chain link fence topped with barbed wire surrounding the place. Mental hospital, if he had to guess.
Speaking of asylums….
It seemed to be the only structure for miles in either direction, and sat back a good distance from the road. A two lane driveway and loop connected the road to a parking lot.
Adam was scanning the grounds through the binoculars, when he tensed in the passenger seat. “Dean! The El Camino’s parked near the side of the building.”
Sure enough, the burgundy car was parked on the side closest to them, just around the corner, so it was hard to see from the road. If Adam hadn’t been looking so closely, they probably would have missed it.
Dean immediately slowed the Impala, and switched off the headlights. His baby would be almost invisible at a distance with the sun down. “I’m going to pass the building, then we’ll turn around. Keep an eye out, look for the doors.”
They passed the building, continuing on until the road curved. Dean stopped and turned around, returning the way they’d came. He parked near the entrance, an iron gate that was carelessly left open. Whoever had Sam, they didn’t seem worried about being followed. Maybe they thought that trick with the red truck was enough to throw people off their trail.
Too bad for them.
“Hey,” Dean addressed Adam, keeping his eyes on the asylum. “Didn’t you say you ran the 100-yard dash in school?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I have an idea…we need to do some recon, first, though.”
<<<<<< >>>>>>
“N-no more! Pl-PLEASE! AHH-AHHHHHH-AHHHH!”
Shepard watched as Max continued to work Sam over with the ball whip. Small, angry-looking welts lined Sam’s tormented cock, his swollen balls, and his quivering inner thighs. Max had just finished with Sam’s large but powerless biceps, leaving more red welts all over them. Shepard had helped by twisting the ring almost constantly while Max worked.
Max had rolled up Sam’s T-shirt, and had just started laying into his unprotected nipples and sweat-drenched pecs. Sam screamed and screamed as the leather connected again and again. Max was an artist with the little weapon.
The sounds of agony and helplessness coming from Sam were incredibly satisfying. Shepard had to admit, he was getting off on watching Sam writhe and strain. He and Max both had been sporting hard-ons almost since the beginning of the interrogation. Winchester put on quite a show.
Unlike Sam, though, they could step out of the room and relieve themselves. Shepard chuckled at that. He felt no sympathy. Sam had brought this on himself.
Shaking from his thoughts, Shepard gave the ring another twist.
“AHH-UGH! AHHH-AHHHH!”
He was fairly certain Max’s whipping had put Sam over the edge. From the desperate, pleading look Shepard saw in his eyes whenever the sweat-soaked head whipped over in his direction, Sam was broken. Finally.
They could start the interrogation again, and hopefully get the truth at last.
He’d let Max keep working for a few more minutes, though. No reason to start going easy on Sam, at this point. Shepard contented himself to listen to Sam’s cries for mercy for a while.
The sharp noise of a shotgun firing outside broke through the sounds of their prisoner’s suffering. Shepard stood, looking toward the door, trying to determine a direction. Max stopped, and came around the cot to join him.
“Where did that come from?”
Shepard cocked his head, listening. Two more blasts followed. “Outside…sounds like it’s near where we parked.”
He strode into the hallway, and grabbed his 357 from the makeshift bed he’d set up outside Sam’s room. Max was right behind, snagging a sawed-off.
“You think it’s Dean?”
“Maybe,” Shepard nodded. “Good thing we got that other cot ready, eh?”
Max snickered as they took off running down the hall, toward the fire escape. Max’s El Camino was right outside the heavy door.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
Dean watched from the shadows as the two hunters raced down the musty hallway. Shepard and Max. He never suspected the two of them. The bastards.
Once they reached the fire escape and disappeared outside, Dean moved. He dashed from his hiding place by the stairwell and headed straight for the room the two men had emerged from.
It had been nearly unbearable, listening to his brother’s screams a few moments before. Dean had been forced to hold onto the wall to keep himself from running in, guns blazing. But that might have gotten Sam killed, so he held himself back, fighting down his protective impulses.
That had been a close fight.
He entered the padded cell, eyes taking in everything to be sure there were no booby traps. The room was cleaner than the rest of the building, and well lit. Obviously, they had set up beforehand. This had been planned.
Dean’s eyes stopped when they landed on Sam. His brother was strapped to an old metal cot, nude from the waste down. Dean’s mouth dropped open when he spied Sam’s rigid penis. His brother’s member was red and bruised, and seemed to be staying hard without anything visibly keeping it that way. From the look on Sam’s face, the intense erection wasn’t voluntary. He could see painful-looking welts along its length, and along the insides of his thighs, his upper arms and his chest.
“Jesus, Sammy…what have they done to you?”
Sam started at the sound of Dean’s voice. His head rolled sluggishly toward him, but his eyes were glazed. There was no recognition. His little brother seemed to have checked out.
Not wasting any more time, Dean strode forward and started working on the leather straps holding Sam down. There were no locks, so Dean made short work of them.
“Can you walk, Sam?”
His brother just moaned softly. Dean frowned. It looked like he’d have to carry Sam out. Not ideal. He reached down, pulled Sam’s T-shirt into place to give him a shred of privacy, at least, and hauled the taller man to his feet. Sam was wobbly, but Dean draped one limp arm across his shoulders, wrapped his arm around Sam’s waist and started moving.
Fortunately, Sam was conscious enough to try and help with the walking.
“D-Dean?”
“Yeah, I’m here, bro. Keep it together okay? We gotta move fast.” Dean said quietly, moving them into the hall and in the direction of the front door, the opposite direction Shepard had gone.
“Hurts….” Sam muttered. Dean wasn’t sure what he was referring to. Of course, from the look of his brother’s battered body, Sam could be referring to anything.
They reached the hospital’s front door quickly enough. Dean paused to adjust Sam’s weight against his shoulder, then stepped outside. No sign of Sam’s captors. Dean just hoped the plan had worked. He started down the driveway at a half-jog. Sam barely kept up, but his sluggish feet were still working. That was a plus.
“Let’s hope Adam wasn’t just bragging about that track and field stuff.”
Sam glanced at him lethargically. “Huh?”
Dean still couldn’t be sure if Sam was fully conscious, so he ignored the confused look and focused on moving.
The Impala was waiting, as planned, by the gate, back door open.
With some difficulty, Dean managed to maneuver his brother’s disoriented, muscular bulk onto the seat, and climbed in, pausing only to close the door behind him.
“Is he okay?” Adam asked, eyes wide as he took in Sam’s appearance.
“Drive!” Dean barked, probably a bit harsher than necessary. Adam didn’t complain, just slung the Chevy into gear and hit the gas. They were away from the asylum in minutes with no sign of pursuit.
“How’d it go?” Dean asked, sliding into the floor boards in front of Sam, partially to better check Sam over, and partially to hide his brother’s still engorged penis from Adam’s view. No need for Sam to suffer any more humiliation that he seemed to have already.
Adam glanced at him in the rearview mirror, but wisely didn’t comment on their brother’s condition. His voice held a hint of excitement and pride. “Just like you said: four slashed tires, a busted windshield and buckshot in the dashboard. Car’s toast.”
“Did they see you?”
“Nope. I found a fence post out behind the place, set my flashlight on top of it. They took off in that direction, so I’m pretty sure they took the bait.”
Dean allowed himself a smile, reaching over the seat to pat Adam’s shoulder approvingly. “You did good, little brother. Get us back to the motel so we can patch Sammy up.”
Sam didn’t say anything the whole trip back, just wrapped his arms around himself, moaning incoherently.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
Dean frowned. They’d been back in the motel room for almost three hours, but Sam was still suffering from his painful erection. They had some very soothing skin cream---leftover from when Adam had gotten a bad sunburn while training; the kid unfortunately shared Dean’s paler complexion---that was good for irritated skin and burns. Dean applied some of it to the worst of the welts and Sam’s obviously aching penis. It seemed to help, some.
He’d also managed to get a few disjointed answers from Sam about what Shepard and his pal wanted from him, but didn’t have much to go on regarding how they had hurt him.
“Ring…ring…can’t--- Won’t let me…pl-please, Dean….” Sam kept muttering. He was growing frantic, even in his weakened state.
Ring?
“Is it a spell, Sam?” Dean asked quietly, taking Sam’s weakly flailing arms to stop the agitated movements. “Hey! Sammy, it’s okay. You’re safe. Did they use some kind of spell on you?”
Sam nodded, eyes taking a few long moments to focus on Dean’s face. He was barely coherent. “Ring…incubus…used my blood…it won’t--- Won’t let me….”
Won’t let me…. Oh. Dean’s eyes widened when he realized what Sam was trying to tell him.
Adam looked between the two of them in confusion. “What does that mean?”
Dean bit his lip, then turned to Adam hesitantly. “Um…well, sometimes you find an incubus that likes to…play with their victims. They use these magic rings to keep--- Um, to keep….” He cut his eyes to Sam’s groin.
Adam just blinked for a moment, following Dean’s gaze, and finally he connected the dots. “Oh. Oh. That---that’s awful! Ow….”
“Yeah, ow,” Dean agreed. “It’s…torture. I guess Shepard got his hands on one of those things.”
Trouble was he had no idea how to counter something like that.
Any further discussion was interrupted when Sam suddenly seized on the bed, hands clawing at the sheets, back arching.
“UHH! UGHHHHH!”
“Sam? Sam, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, gripping his brother’s shoulders as he thrashed. Sam was making the same agonized sounds Dean had heard in that room at the asylum.
Sam looked directly at him, but his mind was unmistakably somewhere else. “PLEASE! I told you ev-ev-everything! UGHHH-UHHHH!”
“What can we do?” Adam asked, panic showing on his face.
Dean grimaced, stepping back from Sam, unable to get through to him. “We need to go back and find whatever’s doing this to him.” He tried to think, then came to a decision and pointed to the door. “Go start the car. We’ll take Sam with us and head back to that asylum.”
Adam didn’t need to be told twice. With a last look at his tortured brother, he raced out the door.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
Adam jogged out to the Impala, digging the keys out as he moved. He’d tossed Dean’s duffel in the backseat when they’d brought Sam in, so he unlocked the doors and bent down to get it out of the way. The parking lot was almost empty, so he gave his surroundings only a quick glance as he worked.
That’s when he saw it.
A blue sedan parked across the lot that hadn’t been there before. Adam frowned. They’d made a point of getting a room in the back of the motel, where the Impala could be out of sight of prying eyes. No cars had arrived or left on that side of the motel since they’d returned. He’d kept watch when Dean had been tending Sam’s injuries. The place had been deserted the last time he’d checked out the window.
Could be nothing… He thought. Just to be safe, he worked slowly, lowering himself into the shadows of the back seat, where he wouldn’t be seen, then lifting his head to get a better look. Two men sat in the front seat of the mystery car. And Adam recognized one of them.
Casually, he finished clearing the seat, then closed the door and jogged back inside. He didn’t look back. Inside, Dean was trying to calm Sam down, but the way his brother was writhing, Adam was sure it wasn’t working.
“Dean, we have a problem.” Adam said, reaching for the shotgun without being told.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
Shepard propped his elbow up on the open passenger side window and gave the ring another twist. He tried to imagine what Sam must look like, thrashing around and suffering in front of his brother and whoever that blond kid was. It made him smile, so he twisted the ring again.
“Son of a bitch….” Max mumbled beside him.
Shepard rolled his eyes at his friend’s continual complaining. “Max…”
“Bastard trashed my car!”
“He wouldn’t have even found it if you’d listened to me!” Shepard chastised him. “I told you to keep off the main roads through town. He used the traffic cameras to find us, he had to.”
“Yeah, well,” Max grumbled. “Dean’s gonna pay for that.”
“Damn straight,” Shepard agreed. “We’ll let Sam scream a little while longer, then we’ll go in and take all three of them by surprise.”
Max smiled at that, nodding. He twirled his tiny whip around his index finger, itching to use it again. “You know, we hear Dean’s name from demons as much as Sam’s. Maybe we need to ask him some questions, too, while we’re at it.”
“Sorry boys,” a voice outside Shepard’s window cut in, followed by the click of a gun hammer being drawn back. “But, I’m not in the mood for twenty questions.”
Shepard turned around, only to find Dean outside the car, two guns trained, one on Max, the other aimed right at Shepard's face.
“Hands where I can see ‘em,” Dean growled dangerously. Shepard kept his in front while Max slowly raised his from the steering wheel of their stolen ride. When they were settled, Dean casually rested his elbows on the open window, guns still trained. Shepard was smart enough not to even consider grabbing for a loaded weapon right at his eye level.
“Now,” Dean spoke, almost conversationally. “Give me that ring, and tell me how to stop what you’re doing to Sam.”
That made Shepard laugh. “Fuck you, Winchester.”
Without warning, the gun aimed at Max dropped, the butt slamming into Shepard’s nuts. He flinched and cried out, surprise mixed with sudden pain. Max took the opportunity to reach for the gun he had stowed between the seats.
“Stop.” Another voice called out. Shepard dragged his glare off Dean, to Max’s window. Outside the driver’s side, the blond kid they’d seen earlier stood with a 12 gauge in his hands. It was leveled at Max, but at that range, it would take them both out.
“Give me the ring,” Dean said slowly. “And tell me how it works.”
Shepard pressed his lips into a thin line. He was about to tell Dean what he could go do with himself, when the butt of the handgun rammed into his balls again.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
Dean eyed the ring in his hand warily. How can I know that this won’t hurt him more?
Shepard had told him how to use the ring---after some resistance. He and his pal were tied up with a creative combination of rope and handcuffs, stewing in the Impala’s backseat. Adam was on guard duty near the car.
That left Dean alone with his suffering brother. Sam was in pain, but kept his glazed eyes on Dean as the older man stood over him.
“Sammy?”
The gaze sharpened a little at the sound of his voice.
“Sam, do you trust me?”
The words took a while to sink in, a testament to how far gone Sammy was right then. Dean couldn’t blame him, he’d been tortured for almost two days straight. Finally, Sam nodded slowly, breath hitching, a low moan escaping his lips.
Dean slowly slid the ring onto his finger. He’d talked to Bobby earlier, carefully keeping Sam’s name out of the conversation, but filling him in about the magic ring and what it did. Bobby was going to call him back when he figured out how to break the spell completely.
For now, Dean figured he could at least help ease Sam’s pain. With the ring in place, Dean took a deep breath, and imagined Sam coming. With the image in his mind, he reached up with his free hand and turned the ring.
The effect was immediate. Sam’s hands clenched, grabbing the sheets. His abs and thighs tensed, and a massive orgasm shot through his body. He came, shooting a thick stream of cum onto his stomach and chest. “Uhhh….UHHHHH!”
Satisfied with the results, Dean carefully turned the ring again, sending another spasm through Sam’s body. His brother threw his head back, moaning, eyes pinched shut as he ejaculated hard, another load blasting out of him.
“AHHH…UGHHHHH…YEEESSSSS….”
Amazingly, Sam’s dick didn’t shrink at all. Dean shook his head. The ring’s effects must have been excruciating. No wonder Sam is barely conscious…. He slowly turned the ring again.
He let Sam cum several more times. Until Bobby found a way to break the ring’s hold, there was little else Dean could do to help his tormented brother.
<<<<< >>>>>>
The dry heat of the asylum made the room a perfect interrogation chamber. Dean understood why Shepard and Max had chosen it.
He walked slowly around the two cots, eyeing his prisoners. Shepard was strapped, appropriately, to the cot Sam had been on. A second one---apparently intended for Dean himself---now held Max.
They were both stripped naked, Dean having no desire to let them be comfortable. He noted with mild interest that the tattoos on Shepard’s arms changed design when his biceps flexed, like they were doing now as the hunter uselessly tried to free himself.
Bobby had finally found an answer. Apparently, the blood dripped onto the ring was the key. All they had to do was simply burn Sam’s blood away, and the ring ceased working. Sam was no longer being tortured, but Dean had noted with unease that the affects didn’t fade right away.
Bobby figured that the longer the ring was used on someone, the longer the effects, but his sources said that the victim would make a complete recovery. Hopefully, in a few days at most.
Which only left the small problem of Sam’s tormentors, Shepard and Max. Dean wasn’t about to just let them off after what they’d done.
Dean ignored the insults both men flung at him as he knelt above their heads and drew his knife. Wordlessly, he pricked each of their palms in turn, gathering several drops of blood from each man. He stood, and dripped the crimson fluid onto the silver ring. A loud pop, like a static charge, sounded when the blood hit.
The results were instant. Shepard and Max both gasped, bodies tensing. Seconds later, both men’s dicks swelled to full hardness.
He smirked as he walked around in front of the two cots, looking the men over. They glared at him, but he saw a glint of fear, as well. They knew full well what the ring was capable of doing.
“I guess I don’t have to tell you what comes next,” Dean said to them. “Well, neither of you, anyway.” He didn’t wait for a response to his joke, and just twisted the ring.
Both men grunted simultaneously, arm and leg muscles bulging as they pulled helplessly at the leather restraints. Their dicks visibly pulsated.
“Argh!” Shepard cried out, struggling. He raised his head and scowled at Dean. “Your brother tried to end the world, Dean. He deserved every minute of what we did to him, and more!”
Dean didn’t bother arguing, just twisted the ring again.
“AGHHH! UGHHHH!” The two men howled in unison. Their backs arched, hips pumping as they humped thin air, trying desperately to force themselves to come. Dean allowed himself a grim feeling of satisfaction. He knew Sam had probably reacted the same way when these bastards had started on him.
“W-what are you gonna do, Dean?” Max choked out. “You w-won’t stay here forever, and we’ll go after Sam twice as hard as soon as we get out.”
Dean eyed their writhing bodies, feigning deep thought. He didn’t answer Max directly. “Had you ever hunted an incubus before the one who had this?” He asked, holding the ring up.
Shepard grimaced, looking like he wouldn’t reply, but his resolve cracked when Dean reached menacingly for the ring again. “N-no. It was our first one.”
“Yeah…I figured,” Dean said, relaxing his arm. “Well, something tells me you were probably too lazy to do your homework.”
Both men frowned, attention split between him and the relentless urges throbbing through their bodies. Dean pointed skyward, as if making some grand point.
“Some types of incubi, it turns out, mate for life. You would have read that, somewhere, I’m sure. If you’d bothered. So, all I really had to do was put the word out that I had the two yahoos who killed that one in Tucson, and…its mate came running.”
Dean enjoyed watching their faces as realization slowly dawned, and the blood drained away as they paled. He looked over his shoulder at the door. “Gedeon?”
A man stepped through the door, walking over to where Dean stood. He was as tall as Sam, with broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms. His eyes had a slightly red tint, as he glowered at the bound men.
“Say hello, boys,” Dean instructed them cheerfully. Shepard and Max didn’t take their eyes off the newcomer.
Dean nodded at the incubus, who stepped to the side and pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing a chiseled, powerfully built chest. Matching tattoos, which Dean knew represented his bonding with his mate, ran the length of his body, starting at the shoulders, down his sides, disappearing below the waistband of his jeans.
“Something else you probably don’t know,” Dean added helpfully. “A talented incubus? Can feed on a man for months.”
“Years, if we’re careful,” Gedeon intoned in a low voice, a faint Polish accent showing through.
Shepard and Max glanced between them, terror plain on their faces. Dean spared another look at them, then carefully slipped the ring off his finger and handed it over to Gedeon.
“I owe you,” Gedeon whispered to him.
Dean just nodded, and strolled toward the door. Shepard spoke up behind him, calling out.
“Dean! DEAN! Don’t do this!”
Dean ignored him.
“You’re crossing a line, Winchester!” Max added hatefully.
He stopped, glancing over his shoulder as he reached the doorway. “You crossed it first, with what you did to my brother.”
He spun on his heel and walked out.
Halfway to the door, Shepard and Max’s voices cried out, screaming together in a hellish chorus.
By the time Dean reached the door to the fire escape, he could hear Max already begging.
<<<<<< >>>>>>
The motel room was dark when Dean got back. Not really a surprise, since it was after midnight. Adam was on the bed closest to the door, sleeping with one hand on the shotgun that was propped up by the bed. He stirred when the door clicked shut, eyes opening enough to take in Dean, then sliding shut again.
Dean smiled. That’s my boy. He’s learning fast.
He moved silently, peeling his outer shirt off and dropping it on a chair. The air had been muggy in that asylum.
Sam’s bed was empty, he noted with some alarm, but he calmed himself when he saw the bathroom light on around the corner. He went over to the door, leaning in close to listen.
Faint moaning caught his attention. He turned the knob, and stepped inside.
{C}
{C}Sam stood against the sink, boxers down around his ankles, panting as he fisted his cock. Dean said nothing, just closed the door behind him and locked it. He nodded slightly when Sam glanced over his shoulder, eyes hooded and bloodshot.
It didn’t take long. Sam surged, spilling a torrent of cum into the sink. He sighed, barely holding himself up with his free hand pressed against the wall.
“How long will this keep up?” He murmured tiredly, squeezing his eyes shut. Dean was right behind him, and placed a comforting hand on his brother’s bare shoulder blade. Sam was exhausted.
“Probably a few days. Bobby said it’s a pretty powerful blood spell. The effects last even after the spell is broken.
Sam exhaled heavily, looking down at his still painfully rigid cock. “You’d think it’d fall off, sooner or later.”
“It’s black magic, dude,” Dean said, huffing a laugh. “
{C}{C}
{C}Normal rules don’t apply. It might hurt like hell, but fortunately, you’ll just be left with some bruises when this is finally over.”
With a resigned nod, Sam flexed his hand, but stopped, shaking his wrist like it was stiff.
“Hurt?”
Sam nodded, then favored Dean with a darkly humorous smile. “Think I’m giving myself carpal tunnel.”
He started to move again, but Dean gently gripped his forearm and held him back. Sam looked at him in the mirror with confusion. Dean wordlessly reached out and took the tube from the counter, squeezing out a large glob of KY on his right hand. He made a fist, smearing copious amounts of the gel along his palm and between his fingers.
Dean wrapped his left hand around Sam’s stomach, stopping when his brother tensed slightly. “Relax.”
Sam obeyed, trust plain in his expression. Dean reached around and took Sam’s thick shaft in his hand, gently fisting him. Sam groaned softly, body loosening as he leaned back against Dean’s chest. A few minutes later, Sam came again, shooting another powerful load into the sink.
Giving up any attempt to support himself, Sam sank back against Dean. Dean offered him a small smile, one he reserved for Sammy alone. “Remember the first time we had to do this?”
{C}
{C}Moaning so softly Dean could barely hear it, Sam nodded, his hips gently thrust forward, in time with Dean’s hand. “Stacy Moorehead.”
“You were fifteen, just out of that big growth spurt, and the girls were finally noticing you.”
“She used to pull me aside every afternoon after school,” Sam continued, eyes drooping. “We’d make out, and I’d go home with the world’s worst hard on.”
“You finally worked up the courage to ask me how to take care of it,” Dean finished.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, gasping as he came again, spilling all over Dean’s hand that time.
Dean continued his work without complaint. Sam’s left hand wrapped around Dean’s arm, squeezing as he spoke softly. “Thanks for coming after me, Dean.”
“I always will, little brother,” Dean replied quietly. He waited until Sam came again before speaking. “You know…there’s this awesome place about a mile up the road.”
“Yeah?” Sam asked breathily.
“Yeah. I found it the other day, when you were going all OCD and quizzing Adam on gun safety. They got girls there that would line up to help you with this. Talented girls, Sammy.”
Sam opened his eyes slowly, squinting at Dean in the mirror. “Was that…uhhh…was that the night you came back without your---?”
Dean grinned. “Oh yeah. That was a great night. Legendary, man.”
Sam dropped his head, watching Dean’s hand move, already nearing another relentless climax.
“How late are they open?”
END
Link to Chapter 1