Supernatural, The Sky Was Full of Wings, 3/5
Title: The Sky Was Full of Wings 3/5
Author:
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean/OFC, Dean/OMC. Sam/Dean/OFC, Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 33,794
Kink: Primary: Age Regression
Notes/Warnings: incest, graphic het sex, graphic M/M sex, dub-con, incest, threesomes, moresomes, voyeurism, oral sex (het & M/M), abduction, rimming, barebacking, blood play, bondage, collaring, orgasm denial, knife play, light D's, submission, marking, biting, first time, bonding. SPECIAL THANKS: to my betas, who were awesome to take this on tru_faith_lost & twivamp92 Any remaining errors are mine.
Summary: While working a case Dean is stolen by the Autumn Queen of the Fae to be her consort. During his time there he is aged regressed, loses his memories, and is a sexual bargaining chip. Sam must rescue him before the ritual sacrifice. He must offer boons to the court for Dean's release. Sam makes a bargain that he must fulfill or both Dean and he will be lost to the Fae. Neither Sam or Dean will leave fairy unchanged.
Artist: Thanks to last minute pinch hit artist musingdarkly & thanks to lightthesparks for additional art work. See all her pieces here.
PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5
Sam entered the small copse near where Dean had been taken, sitting cross-legged in the grass, near where the ring of mushrooms had been. His only weapon was a silver knife, carried more for peace of mind, as it would have no effect on the Fae. He waited patiently for moonrise.
Within the hour, the moon’s pale illumination cast a glow between the trees. Sam chanted the spell given to him by Bobby, repeating it three times. Shortly after the third repetition, the mushroom ring appeared. Sam took the silver chime ball from his pocket and shook it gently, listening to the varied rings spiral into the night. He wasn’t sure what to expect and feared that all he’d have to show from this was wet jeans and over priced jewelry. It had required a trip to Kansas City to find an appropriate offering. Forty-eight hours since Dean was taken, and Sam was worried about the amount of time that constituted in fairy and what could have happened to Dean.
Between one breath and the next she was there. Smaller than the palm of his hand, a winged sprite that looked an awful lot like Disney’s Tinkerbell. Humanoid and slender with enough curves to be female and mostly shades of blue, except for her midnight black eyes. Eyes like a demon, and Sam could not repress the shudder that went down his spine.
He held his hand open and moved the ball again. She came closer, wings thrumming, making sounds of interest that brought to mind small girls laughing behind open palms. Her greedy hands reached for the ball in a move so fast that Sam missed it. She flittered in the air, tiny hands shaking and manipulating the ball, the twittering sounds increasing in frequency and volume. Then, the ball vanished, and the fairy hovered a hand span from his face.
“What would you have of me mortal?” the voice was in his head. The diminutive fairy in front of him had not spoken. Instinctively, Sam knew that the words did not belong to the winged creature in front of him, rather that she was simply a conduit for the voice. Sam held the gold necklace from the pawn shop where it would be visible to the tiny creature.
“I seek audience with your Royal Highness, Queen Gwenoch, Autumnal Ruler and Sovereign of the Harvest. I offer a small token of esteem for this privilege.”
“Granted. We accept your tribute, Samuel Winchester, and offer you safe passage to fairy, from fairy, and for the course of the audience.”
Tiny pale blue hands beckoned him into the mushroom ring.
Sam knelt in the grass, disoriented, body taut, quickly taking in his surroundings. He was nowhere like the place he left. The moon hung full and orange on the horizon and cast a pale glow over a large clearing, shadowed around by trees as tall as any Sam had ever seen. Lanterns swayed in the branches, allowing Sam to see the moving throng of creatures to either side of him.
They stood, sat, and lounged in small groupings, some to his left and some to his right, with a center area left empty, a path to a seated figure he could barely make out in the distance.
“Welcome to the Autumn Court, Samuel Winchester.” The voice came loud and clear as if carried on an amplifier. The breeze carried many more echoes of the welcome to his ears. He was uncertain how to proceed until the blue Fae was once again in front of him beckoning him down the path.
The queen of the Fae was a picture of decadence. She was sprawled over the oversized wooden throne. Somehow the moonlight angled to throw highlights over her multi hued hair. Hair that appeared to be moving, but Sam was sure that was also a trick of the light. In one hand she held a silver goblet. Her other arm was draped over the arm where fire colored nails dragged through the striped fur of a large creature that was somewhat feline in appearance. A pretty boy attendant was at her feet, one hand caressing along her bare leg.
When the young man raised his head and smiled shyly, Sam gasped. What the hell? It couldn’t be, but Sam knew. He knew she’d made Dean younger. Dean like this was burned into his retinas, an image that never left, coupled with guilt and love and more emotions than Sam had names for. Sam couldn’t ever forget what Dean looked like at sixteen, because when Sam was twelve, hero worship rolled over, and Sam fell in love with his brother.
“Dean?”
The boy looked up at Sam, lashes curling up, eyes a hazel green that Sam had looked into all his life. Those eyes were empty, nothing in them that Sam was used to seeing, no love, rage, humor, not even recognition. Sam watched as Dean’s brow furrowed, eyes crawling over Sam, and when they locked gazes again, Sam’s heart shook, jagged and bruised. The only thing in Dean’s eyes was a heat that was unfamiliar and nothing else.
Dean turned and Sam wanted nothing more than to take Dean and run away right then and there. He could see the marks across Dean’s chest, new bruises blooming purple against yellow faded patches. Bright red cuts over shallow white scars. Someone had been repeatedly cutting and bruising his brother. Rage simmered under his skin, and Sam tamped it down, moved it somewhere less volatile. He had to keep his emotions in check.
“What would you have of us, Samuel?” Gwenoch’s voice echoed across the field, disdain and amusement showing in tone and body.
“I have come to claim what is mine, what was taken from me without permission-- my brother, Dean Winchester.”
He saw Dean’s head come up from the corner of his eye but didn’t look. He couldn’t afford the distraction. Sam heard the twitters and whispers of the court at his back.
“Not yours, not anymore. Perhaps we could come to an arrangement? I will require a bargain of you to lose my consort”
“What would you have?”
Gwenoch was sitting up now, back a flat plane, stiff and guarded, eyes sharp and focused. Sam knew there was something she wanted, and the Fae were shrewd bargainers. He schooled his nerves and forced his gaze to calmly lock with Gwenoch’s.
“This is my bargain. I would have three things. One: since you want what is mine, you will replace him in my bed. I have not conceived, so I wish to have other options. You will dwell here a week and a day. Two: you will allow me to remove the stain from your blood. I will not chance the transfer to any possible offspring. Three: you will perform an awakening ritual at the end of your stay. Should you fail to fulfill any of the three, Dean remains as my consort. I keep you, as well, and one of you will be my willing sacrifice at Samhain. Do you agree?”
Sam was well aware he had no real power here, but nothing was set in stone until he offered formal agreement. He suspected there was one of the three things she wanted above the others. Even with his experience in reading others, he couldn’t pick up any tells. “Your majesty, would you grant me leeway to ask you some questions.”
Gwenoch waved one hand and ran her other through Dean’s hair, behaving as if his words held little importance, and her attention was already elsewhere.
Sam asked, “How long is a week and a day in our world?
Gwenoch waved over a satyr and they had a conversation Sam couldn’t here. He didn’t know how he felt about giving up the demon blood. Truth was he didn’t think there was any other way to kill Lilith, but that or Dean, well, there was no choice. He’d do whatever was necessary to get Dean back.
“Approximately two days in your time.”
“Does the collar on Dean have some significance other than marking him as your consort?”
“He gave up his memories.”
“If I agree, will you restore them?”
“Yes.”
Will you put him back the way he was?”
“That I will not do.” One for him, and one for the Fae bitch, but he still had no clue what she really wanted most or why.
“Can I be free of your glamour while I stay, if I agree?”
“Food nor drink will bind you to this place. No spell shall be woven or illusion spun to cloud your mind. We do have a natural glamour to your kind that we cannot turn off and any food you eat or drink will act as an intoxicant, you will not be subjected to any other effects.”
“May I have the same for Dean?”
“Yes.”
“What does the ritual require from me?”
Gwenoch’s lips quirked and she responded. “That, I will not reveal.”
Sam immediately suspected that the ritual was something he would find objectionable and he thought quickly to add conditions to prevent a long term effect.
“Will you guarantee that no further permanent physical or mental changes or damage will come to myself or Dean during our stay, and that no action we are required to perform will result in either these types of changes or our deaths?"
“Yes.”
“Will you also agree to leave this area, causing no further harm to the inhabitants here?”
“If you complete your part of the bargain, yes.”
Just because he was curious and maybe it would reveal something, Sam asked. “Why Dean? Why me?”
“Power. Don’t tell me you don’t know all about that Sam. I can feel it in you. All that power and how much you love it. Of course, there’s a taint in you too, isn’t there? Drinking demon blood, naughty, naughty Sam.” Gwenoch’s smile was brutal, taunting as she wagged her finger in a parody of parental admonishment.
Anger struck Sam, a flash, quickly followed by the rushing need to put this bitch in her place, remind her she took what belonged to him, a little demonstration to show he wasn’t helpless.
As suddenly as it came up he felt it being pushed down inside him, but not through his own doing. He heard her laugh on the air.
“Ah Samuel, your little parlor tricks are ineffective here. In your world, you could harm mine, but taking me would be stretching it some, even there. We are not demons or angels, although kin to the latter. Think about using them again while you’re my guest, and Dean will pay the price on his flesh.”
The calm certainty of her voice was more terrifying than if her voice contained a threat. She didn’t need threats, and she knew it.
“No more questions.” So getting pissed off hadn’t been his smartest move. “Will you agree to the terms we have bargained for?”
There was only one answer Sam could give. “Yes”
The court echoed with voices. “Bargain heard, promise given and witnessed. So shall it be.”
Gwenoch stood and pointed to the ground. “Down on your knees, Sam.”
Sam knelt, heat crawling up his face. Gwenoch walked down the steps, stood in front of him, and pressed the palm of her hand to his forehead. “Let’s take care of that blood of yours, right now.”
Gwenoch spoke, words Sam couldn’t understand, heat beginning to build where her hand pressed into his forehead. Not just heat now, burning hot flow of lava, but when Sam attempted to pull back, he couldn’t. His head was on fire, and he knew the agonized sounds were his, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the pain spreading, down his spine, through his extremities. His blood boiled, and Sam’s sounds turned to screams, throat gone raw, leaving him gasping when Gwenoch removed her hand. Sam fell, her hand the only thing that had kept him upright, and curled into himself, chest rising and falling, panting.
Sam was vaguely aware of Gwenoch extending her hand to Dean and watching the two of them walk away.
After the audience, Gwenoch took Dean back to her bower and they sat on the edge of the bed.
Mesmerized, Dean had been unable to take his eyes off the stranger. The stranger who seemed to know Dean, even if it wasn’t mutual. Dean had a strange yearning to remember his past and couldn’t help wondering if the tall man was part of it. For the first time in this place, he was filled with something very close to discontent. He had to know, right now.
“That’s the Sammy I’ve been thinking of?"
Gwenoch appraised him, but he couldn’t read the expression in her eyes. He thought maybe it was amusement or wariness. For some reason, Dean believed that reading people was something he was good at, but in this place, he was always unsure.
“Yes, Dean. That was the man you’ve been thinking of.”
“What is he to me?
“In time, pretty. There is plenty of time.”
Dean thinks about the man, can’t help himself really. Tall and beautifully formed, he was almost as gorgeous as the Fae. Dean thought about the inexplicable way the man had made him feel when he first saw him, as if all his crooked wrong bits had slammed together into a completed whole. When they left the throne, Dean felt like part of himself stayed with Samuel, leaving behind a gaping, empty, hollow place Dean didn’t know how to fill.
“I think he might be everything to me.”
Gwenoch’s eyes pinned him, sharp yet compassionate. She raised a hand to Dean’s face, and he nuzzled into the caress. “Yes, Dean,” she said, “I think you are right about that.” Dean didn’t understand the sad wistful smile on her face, but was all too happy to watch it fade as he pulled her into his arms and they tumbled to the bed.
They lay on her bed exchanging wet kisses until Dean was hard and needy.
Gwenoch, curled next to him, running her hands up and down his chest, her hair twining into his, caressing his neck arms, every inch of Dean’s skin it could reach.
“I’d like Samuel to share our bed. Would that be acceptable to you Dean?”
Dean’s cock twitched and beaded at the tip with pre-come. Gwenoch’s warm laughter ran over him. Dean blushed, His body’s reaction was answer enough.
Gwenoch raised one hand. The other she placed on his chest. Dean felt a small electric surge in his chest that he’d come to associate with her using magic.
A short piece of vine dropped from overhead, shimmering to gold before landing in Gwenoch’s hand. Gwenoch moved that hand to Dean’s erection and the golden vine coiled around the base of his cock and bound his sack.
Gwenoch crawled from the bed and stood. She pointed to the center of the bed. “Kneel.”
Dean did, cock hot and heavy between his legs, release waiting on her whim.
“So beautiful, Dean.” Her words warmed Dean clear to his center.
“We’ll join you shortly, Pretty.” Dean didn’t understand why her smile seemed so sad as she turned from him and walked away.
Gwenoch took Sam’s hand in hers and pulled him up from the table, his feasting complete. Her hand felt small in his, delicate. Her eyes, drew him, dark green with golden flecks, and before he knew it, there was no space between their bodies. Her free hand skimmed up his chest curving around his neck, pulling him down and brushing her lips across his. Sam was warm everywhere he touched her and knew it was partially her magic, but that didn’t lessen the arousal.
When her tongue teased over his lip, he groaned and pulled her close, plunging his tongue into her mouth, crushing her soft pliant lips beneath his. Her mouth tasted like wine and spice, and when she pulled back, he tried to chase the taste. Gwenoch pulled back, lips tilted up the corners, eyes full of amusement, as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes.
“See, Sam, I don’t think your duties here will be that onerous.” Her voice was teasing and sultry. “Come with me.” She turned, pulling him after her. Sam let his eyes trace her body as she walked in front of him. She was draped in strips of fabric that writhed around her, almost alive, revealing long, shapely thighs. When the breeze molded to her back, he saw the round curve of her ass, and his hands itched to hold it. He nearly knocked her down when she suddenly stopped. His cock twitched as it made contact with her hip.
Sam raised his eyes and saw that they’d passed into a tree-enclosed bower, the limbs reaching overhead to make a sheltered room. The entire area was taken up with the largest bed he had ever seen. It could easily accommodate three men his size. Kneeling in the center of the bed was Dean, naked but for the gold circlet at his neck. His head was lowered and his hands sat passively on his knees. Dean’s hair was just long enough now that it fell over his forehead and curled slightly in, long enough that Sam would be able to run his fingers through it. Sam swallowed and couldn’t keep his eyes from between Dean’s legs, where his cock was hard and red, curved up to his belly.
Sam quickly looked at Gwenoch, “What - , Why -" his hands flailed in the general direction of Dean.
Gwenoch raised an eyebrow, the amusement clear on her face.
“Sam, you agreed to grace my bed. No stipulations were made on who would share it with us.”
‘Crap, crap, crap’ Sam couldn’t believe he’d been such an idiot. Maybe she wouldn’t expect him to... He couldn’t go there, not even in his own head.
It settled on him that he didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t afford to break his agreement, not if both he and Dean didn’t want to end up as toys. He was under no delusions, no matter how they were treated here, they were expendable if a better use was found for them.
The tiniest part of him could admit that maybe he wasn’t entirely unhappy with the way this was turning out. He did what he always did when faced with something unpalatable, get through it now and deal with the consequences later.
Dean’s eyes lifted up, trailed them over his body, toe to head, lingering on his lips and Sam saw the desire in them. He watched Dean’s teeth worry at his bottom lip, and all Sam could think about was how much he’d like to replace those teeth with his own. Sam groaned, and the trill of Gwenoch’s laughter reached his ears. He looked to see her head tilted to the side, smile knowing and confident.
“I could feel it in you, Sam, the first time you saw your brother at my feet, the lust, the desire, the want. She circled him, one orange nail dragging across his naked skin,, feral, primal, and completely in control.
“I want you to kiss him, Sam,”
“No.” Sam’s not entirely sure why he’s fighting, except for that voice in his head chanting, ‘bad, wrong, brother.’
“Not really your call is it, handsome?”
Sam wanted to hang his head but refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing his defeat. Sam hated that she was right. He didn’t have any choice here, and neither did Dean. Maybe worse than being compelled, was the ugly part of him that was glad, the part of him that had always wanted this and was all too happy to have it, no matter how it came about.
“Do it, Sam.” Her hard tone left him no doubt that she wouldn’t cut him any slack.
He crawled onto the bed, settling himself in front of Dean, mirroring his brother’s kneeling position. Gwenoch was already on the bed, kneeling up behind Dean, somehow having shed her clothes when Sam wasn’t looking. The glimpses he’d had earlier of her skin didn’t do the whole canvas justice. She had peachy cream skin everywhere, her nipples the same carnelian color as her lips, the hair between her legs the same multi-hued crinkles that adorned her head. Her eyes met his in challenge.
Sam put both hands to Dean’s face and brushed his lips across Dean’s, stifling the sound that wanted to escape behind his lips, guilt and lust clenching in his belly. Pulling back was the hardest thing Sam ever had to do. He wanted so much more than that brief touch, but had no right to take it.
“No, Sam. Kiss him like you mean it. I want to see all that passion caged in your soul when you kiss him. Show me, Sam.” Her tone, edged with blades, left him in no doubt that if he didn’t, she would punish them both.
Sam looked into Dean’s eyes, soundlessly begging permission. Dean was the first to lean in, and Sam couldn’t resist, couldn’t fight himself, and Dean, and Gwenoch, and this place. He put a thumb to Dean’s chin, opening his brother’s mouth as he opened his own, sliding his thumb along Dean’s full bottom lip. Sam devoured the moan that slipped from Dean and twined his tongue with his brother's, plundering the soft wet heat, like he couldn’t get enough.
Gwenoch’s hand twined into Sam’s hair, pulling him from Dean’s mouth and to hers. She dove into his mouth stroking, seeking as if she could take the taste of Dean off of him. Sam felt his thumb being sucked into Dean’s mouth, teeth nibbling at the sensitive flesh, and his cock was heavy and throbbing. Gwenoch pulled from his mouth and put both hands on Dean pushing him down on the bed. Dean’s legs stretched out and bracketed Sam’s hips. Gwenoch reached out to stroke Dean’s cock, never taking her eyes from Sam’s, and then she lowered those red, red lips to suck Dean into her mouth.
Sam moved his hands up to the apex of Dean’s thighs, mesmerized by the sight of that mouth sinking onto Dean’s cock, making Sam’s own cock ache. Sam watched as her lips stroked up and down the length of his brother, Dean’s hips rising to thrust into each downward movement. The sounds Dean made, God. He’d imagined it, but his imaginings weren’t even close, breathy gasps that made every nerve-ending twitch with desire. Gwencoh pulled off with an obscene sound, looked at Sam, raised a brow and said, “Your turn.”
“What?” Sam’s voice came out breathy, rather than the shocked he’d been trying for. Heart stopped, time slowed, and Sam forgot how to breathe. His eyes darted from Gwenoch to Dean, rabbit trapped and helpless.
Dean’s hand twined into his. “Sammy, please.”
Looking down at Dean’s sweat slicked body, hips stuttering, and cock so shiny and hard, Sam wanted nothing more than to get his mouth on Dean, to suck him down and drain him. He hated himself a little for his weakness, but it didn’t stop him from dropping down and pulling one of Dean’s legs over his shoulder, sliding his hand over the downy hairs of his legs, skin so tender and unmarked now. He cupped Dean’s ass in one hand and wrapped the other around his cock. Gwenoch was resting her cheek on Dean’s chest, and the curtain of her many-colored-hair spilling over Dean was one of the most erotic things Sam had ever seen. Sam pulled the crown of Dean’s dick into his mouth and couldn’t help the small sound that slipped out as Dean’s hips canted up, pushing further in. Sam wanted more and swallowed Dean down until his lips met the ring of his hand.
Gwenoch’s eyes on them just made every sensation multiply, ratcheting up the intensity. Sam hollowed his cheeks and pulled back to the crown. Dean whimpered under him, hips stuttering and fucking into Sam’s mouth. Sam thrilled to know that he was doing this to Dean. He was the one pulling those sounds out of his far too pretty brother. He pushed his tongue over the slit and watched Dean’s hands clench, head tossing. Gwenoch’s mouth arced in a pleased smile. Sam cupped his tongue against the back of the crown, a spot that always made him lose it and moved his other hand so he could stroke over Dean’s hole.
Dean shouted, body arching up, all tense corded muscle, beautiful and undone. Sam watched Gwenoch’s hand move to the base of Dean’s cock and remove the restraint, and Sam felt the hot fluid filling his mouth, Dean’s hole clenching against his thumb. He’d never been more turned on and thought he could come without being touched. He made himself hold off, knowing the fairy queen was not done with him yet. Sam chased Dean’s orgasm, sucking and swallowing until Dean moved away, spent cock now over sensitized.
“Well…” Gwenoch slid up Dean’s chest burying her face in Dean’s neck, caressing his spent cock. “That went a long way to getting me in the mood Sam. You are very pleasing.”
Jesus just the picture of the two of them lying there was more filthy dirty than any porn Sam had ever seen. Dean all fucked out, Gwenoch all over him and looking at Sam like she was hungry and he was steak.
Gwenoch rose up on hands and knees, moving, prowling over to Sam. She came up to her knees and faced Sam, hands running up his chest, flicking his nipples, and he moaned under her touch, so damn turned on that every caress flowered from bud to bloom. Gwenoch curled one hand behind Sam’s neck pulling him down, his ear brushing her lip.
“Has anyone ever fucked you Sam?”
Dean was sitting up now, his arms wrapped around Gwenoch’s waist, cheek resting against her curve of her hip, and when Sam’s eyes met Dean’s, dark and hooded, Sam knew Dean had heard the question.
This was the first time since Sam had arrived in fairy that the mask of humanity Gwenoch wore slipped. Her eyes were wide and empty, examining him like a bug on a pin, waiting for his answer
“No.” The word came out hard and clipped.
Her lips curled but brought no joy or warmth to her face. Dean behind her licked his lips and moved a hand to Sam’s hip, thumb gliding across the thin skin over the bone.
Quick as it had gone blank, her face was animated again, true amusement flashing as she trilled and told him, “Maybe tomorrow. Right now I want you to fuck me."
“Move over there.” Gwenoch instructed, pointing to the head of the bed. “Stretch out with your arms over your head, face up.”
His duties might not be objectionable, but her tone of voice rubbed Sam the wrong way. Submitting to her commands was taking all of his self-control. Sam took the position as directed.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something twine around his hands and forearms, pulling his wrists together and securing him. He pulled against the binding, but discovered he was held fast. Panic was rising up in him. Dean knelt near his feet. Reaching out one hand, he grabbed Sam’s foot and rubbed circles across it, making shushing sounds. Just the thought of Dean attempting to comfort him in this situation made the panic turn to something like the giggles, which came out high and agitated.
Gwenoch crawled over Sam, straddling his waist. His erection was flagging, but when Gwenoch leaned over him, lips against his ear, hair touching him everywhere and whispered, “Want Dean to suck you Sam?” he was hard again before she’d even sat back up. Amusement was carved into her features.
She rose up, her thighs flexing, and she wiggled back down his body. Dean was behind her and he brought both of his hands flat against the top of Sam’s thighs, holding him still as surely as the vines held his arms. Dean’s hands there, and a switch flipped, tolerable was exciting, pleasurable, a rush.
Gwenoch’s ass dragged across his cock as she shimmied back, and his cock throbbed, hips jerking up, anticipating what she was promising. Sam could see his dick straining against her cunt, unable to do anything but wait until she lowered herself. Gwenoch’s eyes were hooded now as she looked down at him, her hands resolutely planted against her thighs, her hips swaying just enough to tease. Shock and arousal made Sam whimper when Dean’s hand parted the fold of Gwenoch’s flesh and positioned Sam at her entrance. Sam bit his lip as he pulled air into his lungs.
Warm and wet engulfed his cock as Gwenoch sank over him. Dean twined his hands around Gwenoch’s waist and Sam’s eyes locked with Dean’s as Gwenoch began to ride him. Sam watched Dean’s hands, stroking over pale skin, one at Gwenoch’s breast, thumbing across a nipple, one between her legs stroking across her clit
Sam’s hips rose in time with her downward thrusts. On every thrust he could feel Dean’s fingertip glide down his cock along with the tight female heat that encased him. That single caress and Dean’s dark gaze were more electrifying than the woman who rode him, her back arched, head thrown back, lashes pressed to her cheek, Dean’s hands bringing her to orgasm. Dean’s touch twisted something up inside of Sam in ways he couldn’t even describe.
Dean flattened his hand, circling his palm over Gwenoch’s clit, causing his fingers to curl against Sam’s cock on the next downward slide. That simple contact undid him and Sam was thrusting erratically, spilling inside of Gwenoch. Dean’s hands brought Gwenoch to her release, and each pulse of her orgasm around Sam milked the last of the come from his cock.
Gwenoch pulled off him and rolled over, curling around Sam’s side, one hand idly stroking across his abdomen, smile flitting across her lips.
Dean was still kneeling between his knees, eyes dark and hungry as they roved over Sam.
“Dean.” At the sound of her voice, Dean’s attention turned to Gwenoch. “Something to clean up with.”
Dean crawled from the bed and came back with wet warm towels. Gwenoch took one from his hand and smiled her approval. Dean preened under the unspoken praise. Sam saw someone he didn’t know then, someone eager to please and desperate for approval. Was this Dean under the Dean he knew and Sam had never realized?
Gwenoch cleaned herself, and Dean wiped Sam. Dean wiped the come from his hips and belly with slow even strokes, working around his cock and between Sam’s legs. Sam was so caught in the feel of Dean’s fingers, pressing through the towel against his skin, that it took a few minutes to realize his arms had been freed.
Sam rubbed the skin of one arm with the opposite hand, not really needing the stimulation, but wanting an excuse for busy hands so Dean wouldn’t stop his ministrations. When Dean finished, he tossed the towels to the floor. Gwenoch moved and motioned Dean between her and Sam, where they framed him, one to either side. Sam desperately wanted to touch his brother’s skin, run finger tips dot-to-dot across freckles, but he settled for laying a hand over Dean’s heart.
Watching Gwenoch relaxed and sated with sex, Sam felt safe in asking some questions. “How did Dean get these?” Sam was tracing the faded bruises, cuts, and what looked like bite marks that crossed his brother’s chest and hips.
“Gwenoch’s hand followed his. “These,” she said as she traced the bruises and thin slices along Dean’s chest were done by one of the court nobles. Dean agreed to help me by visiting the noble in his bedchamber. This particular noble has…selective tastes.”
“Could I take over his duties?”
“No!” Dean sat up then, alert, fear and worry on his face. Gwenoch pushed Dean back flat, her tiny palm all that was required for compliance, but Dean watched her, a plea in his eyes.
Gwenoch moued at Sam, clearly considering his offer.
“You have nothing left to bargain with that I want.”
Sam shrugged but didn’t answer.
“Do you understand what you’re offering, Sam? Do you know what Dean’s been doing?”
Sam noted that Gwenoch’s gaze flicked quickly to Dean, caught the slight negation of head that Dean gave Gwenoch. Sam understood that Dean didn’t want her to reveal everything to Sam.
Sam had some idea. He flashed on the fresh marks he’d observed on Dean’s back, bleeding stripes crossing over marks barely scabs, over smaller white marks under that. Dean’s body language screamed that, whatever he was doing, it didn’t just end at the visible punishment to his body. Sam didn’t care. He wanted to take care of Dean, take the punishment himself if the Fae would agree.
Dean’s hand hovered over Gwenoch’s belly and tension radiated from every line in his body. Sam saw the fine tremble in his brother’s hand as he laid it against Gwenoch’s flesh and barely caught the whispered, “Please,” Dean uttered.
Gwenoch brought a hand over Dean’s and smiled at him in reassurance.
“No, Sam.” Just as suddenly as Dean had tensed up, every fiber of him released and loosened.
Sam clenched his fist tight and tried to let all the loathing he felt reflect in his eyes. Gwenoch rested her hand over his, and her voice was gentle. “Sam, everything your brother has done here, he consented to. He said yes.”
“After he ate your food, drank your wine and was seduced by your glamour.” Venom dripped from his voice, and he couldn’t stop it, even though he knew he had little control here.
“Sam, I won’t deny we clouded Dean’s senses, but the effects are little more than having a few drinks would be in your reality. Do you really believe that every time your brother went to a bar, got a little drunk and had sex, he was being raped?”
Some of Sam’s anger faded a little, because he knew Dean had done exactly what she was describing on more than one occasion. He also understood that she was downplaying exactly how clouded Dean’s mind was. Her argument took away some of the guilt and anger, but he knew that without being whole, without his memories, Dean couldn’t really consent.
Gwenoch continued, “We have rules, primarily because we don’t want too much attention. Violating those rules would see me deposed. Not to mention, I don’t have the power or the strength of my summer and winter cousins. We rely on other skills. In this court, we seduce and manipulate, and we are very good at it.” She was almost purring, and Sam felt his dick twitch in response. A smile that could only be described as wicked lit her face.
Sam was beginning to understand how Dean had caved to the pull of this place. Especially considering that the last few months of their lives had been more trying than ever before. Sam moved his finger lower against Dean’s hip bone, “What about these?” They were purple, similar in shape and color to a hickey, but around the top and bottom was a row of what appeared to be small needle marks.
“I’d like to show you, if you will let me?”
Sam nodded his consent, figuring that anything Dean could get through, he could as well.
Dean was silent, sleepy between them, eyes shifting lazily to watch Sam.
Gwenoch made a high pitched sound, and the bower was filled by at least two dozen tiny fairies, including the blue one who had met him in the grove. Sam noticed that each fairy was a different color ranging across the many shades found in flowering plants. Both males and females buzzed and cooed over head, their noises almost musical. Gwenoch raised her hand, and the blue female landed on her hand.
“She took a liking to you, Sam, and would very much like to feed from you. Will you permit it?”
Sam felt nervous looking into her dark black eyes, their demon like appearance still unnerving, but reminded himself that Dean had been subjected to this more than once. He pointed to the meaty part of his shoulder in affirmation.
The tiny blue fairy flitted over to him and when she placed her delicate palms against Sam’s skin, he could feel his flesh pimple. When she put her tiny wet lips to his shoulder, he didn’t understand how it could be erotic, but he could feel himself becoming aroused. When her teeth sunk into his skin, he failed to think. It was the most intense sensation he had ever been on the receiving end of and that was saying a lot considering he’d been knifed, shot, and had his fair share of mind-blowing sex. It was a bolt of white-hot pain he could feel to the bottom of his spine, and simultaneously, what had been mild arousal became the need to fuck mindlessly.
The feelings coursed through him on a loop until she lifted her mouth and retracted her teeth. Sam was dimly aware that he was supine on the bed and that his hands were clenched in the sheets. Gwenoch was now straddling his thighs, and her hand was locked around his almost painful erection.
“Jesus Christ,” Sam gasped. Gwenochs laugh trilled over him.
Dean curled his body around Sam, brought his hand up to join Gwenoch’s, slender boyish fingers next to her delicate ones. It took only a couple of pulls and Sam was coming, again, hot wet spurts coursing over twined hands. Dean’s lips against his ear, “So fucking gorgeous, Sammy”
The last thing Sam remembered was the touch of warm fingers pressing to his forehead and the voice like falling leaves that whispered, “Sleep.”
Part 4
Author:
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean/OFC, Dean/OMC. Sam/Dean/OFC, Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 33,794
Kink: Primary: Age Regression
Notes/Warnings: incest, graphic het sex, graphic M/M sex, dub-con, incest, threesomes, moresomes, voyeurism, oral sex (het & M/M), abduction, rimming, barebacking, blood play, bondage, collaring, orgasm denial, knife play, light D's, submission, marking, biting, first time, bonding. SPECIAL THANKS: to my betas, who were awesome to take this on tru_faith_lost & twivamp92 Any remaining errors are mine.
Summary: While working a case Dean is stolen by the Autumn Queen of the Fae to be her consort. During his time there he is aged regressed, loses his memories, and is a sexual bargaining chip. Sam must rescue him before the ritual sacrifice. He must offer boons to the court for Dean's release. Sam makes a bargain that he must fulfill or both Dean and he will be lost to the Fae. Neither Sam or Dean will leave fairy unchanged.
Artist: Thanks to last minute pinch hit artist musingdarkly & thanks to lightthesparks for additional art work. See all her pieces here.
PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5
Sam entered the small copse near where Dean had been taken, sitting cross-legged in the grass, near where the ring of mushrooms had been. His only weapon was a silver knife, carried more for peace of mind, as it would have no effect on the Fae. He waited patiently for moonrise.
Within the hour, the moon’s pale illumination cast a glow between the trees. Sam chanted the spell given to him by Bobby, repeating it three times. Shortly after the third repetition, the mushroom ring appeared. Sam took the silver chime ball from his pocket and shook it gently, listening to the varied rings spiral into the night. He wasn’t sure what to expect and feared that all he’d have to show from this was wet jeans and over priced jewelry. It had required a trip to Kansas City to find an appropriate offering. Forty-eight hours since Dean was taken, and Sam was worried about the amount of time that constituted in fairy and what could have happened to Dean.
Between one breath and the next she was there. Smaller than the palm of his hand, a winged sprite that looked an awful lot like Disney’s Tinkerbell. Humanoid and slender with enough curves to be female and mostly shades of blue, except for her midnight black eyes. Eyes like a demon, and Sam could not repress the shudder that went down his spine.
He held his hand open and moved the ball again. She came closer, wings thrumming, making sounds of interest that brought to mind small girls laughing behind open palms. Her greedy hands reached for the ball in a move so fast that Sam missed it. She flittered in the air, tiny hands shaking and manipulating the ball, the twittering sounds increasing in frequency and volume. Then, the ball vanished, and the fairy hovered a hand span from his face.
“What would you have of me mortal?” the voice was in his head. The diminutive fairy in front of him had not spoken. Instinctively, Sam knew that the words did not belong to the winged creature in front of him, rather that she was simply a conduit for the voice. Sam held the gold necklace from the pawn shop where it would be visible to the tiny creature.
“I seek audience with your Royal Highness, Queen Gwenoch, Autumnal Ruler and Sovereign of the Harvest. I offer a small token of esteem for this privilege.”
“Granted. We accept your tribute, Samuel Winchester, and offer you safe passage to fairy, from fairy, and for the course of the audience.”
Tiny pale blue hands beckoned him into the mushroom ring.
Sam knelt in the grass, disoriented, body taut, quickly taking in his surroundings. He was nowhere like the place he left. The moon hung full and orange on the horizon and cast a pale glow over a large clearing, shadowed around by trees as tall as any Sam had ever seen. Lanterns swayed in the branches, allowing Sam to see the moving throng of creatures to either side of him.
They stood, sat, and lounged in small groupings, some to his left and some to his right, with a center area left empty, a path to a seated figure he could barely make out in the distance.
“Welcome to the Autumn Court, Samuel Winchester.” The voice came loud and clear as if carried on an amplifier. The breeze carried many more echoes of the welcome to his ears. He was uncertain how to proceed until the blue Fae was once again in front of him beckoning him down the path.
The queen of the Fae was a picture of decadence. She was sprawled over the oversized wooden throne. Somehow the moonlight angled to throw highlights over her multi hued hair. Hair that appeared to be moving, but Sam was sure that was also a trick of the light. In one hand she held a silver goblet. Her other arm was draped over the arm where fire colored nails dragged through the striped fur of a large creature that was somewhat feline in appearance. A pretty boy attendant was at her feet, one hand caressing along her bare leg.
When the young man raised his head and smiled shyly, Sam gasped. What the hell? It couldn’t be, but Sam knew. He knew she’d made Dean younger. Dean like this was burned into his retinas, an image that never left, coupled with guilt and love and more emotions than Sam had names for. Sam couldn’t ever forget what Dean looked like at sixteen, because when Sam was twelve, hero worship rolled over, and Sam fell in love with his brother.
“Dean?”
The boy looked up at Sam, lashes curling up, eyes a hazel green that Sam had looked into all his life. Those eyes were empty, nothing in them that Sam was used to seeing, no love, rage, humor, not even recognition. Sam watched as Dean’s brow furrowed, eyes crawling over Sam, and when they locked gazes again, Sam’s heart shook, jagged and bruised. The only thing in Dean’s eyes was a heat that was unfamiliar and nothing else.
Dean turned and Sam wanted nothing more than to take Dean and run away right then and there. He could see the marks across Dean’s chest, new bruises blooming purple against yellow faded patches. Bright red cuts over shallow white scars. Someone had been repeatedly cutting and bruising his brother. Rage simmered under his skin, and Sam tamped it down, moved it somewhere less volatile. He had to keep his emotions in check.
“What would you have of us, Samuel?” Gwenoch’s voice echoed across the field, disdain and amusement showing in tone and body.
“I have come to claim what is mine, what was taken from me without permission-- my brother, Dean Winchester.”
He saw Dean’s head come up from the corner of his eye but didn’t look. He couldn’t afford the distraction. Sam heard the twitters and whispers of the court at his back.
“Not yours, not anymore. Perhaps we could come to an arrangement? I will require a bargain of you to lose my consort”
“What would you have?”
Gwenoch was sitting up now, back a flat plane, stiff and guarded, eyes sharp and focused. Sam knew there was something she wanted, and the Fae were shrewd bargainers. He schooled his nerves and forced his gaze to calmly lock with Gwenoch’s.
“This is my bargain. I would have three things. One: since you want what is mine, you will replace him in my bed. I have not conceived, so I wish to have other options. You will dwell here a week and a day. Two: you will allow me to remove the stain from your blood. I will not chance the transfer to any possible offspring. Three: you will perform an awakening ritual at the end of your stay. Should you fail to fulfill any of the three, Dean remains as my consort. I keep you, as well, and one of you will be my willing sacrifice at Samhain. Do you agree?”
Sam was well aware he had no real power here, but nothing was set in stone until he offered formal agreement. He suspected there was one of the three things she wanted above the others. Even with his experience in reading others, he couldn’t pick up any tells. “Your majesty, would you grant me leeway to ask you some questions.”
Gwenoch waved one hand and ran her other through Dean’s hair, behaving as if his words held little importance, and her attention was already elsewhere.
Sam asked, “How long is a week and a day in our world?
Gwenoch waved over a satyr and they had a conversation Sam couldn’t here. He didn’t know how he felt about giving up the demon blood. Truth was he didn’t think there was any other way to kill Lilith, but that or Dean, well, there was no choice. He’d do whatever was necessary to get Dean back.
“Approximately two days in your time.”
“Does the collar on Dean have some significance other than marking him as your consort?”
“He gave up his memories.”
“If I agree, will you restore them?”
“Yes.”
Will you put him back the way he was?”
“That I will not do.” One for him, and one for the Fae bitch, but he still had no clue what she really wanted most or why.
“Can I be free of your glamour while I stay, if I agree?”
“Food nor drink will bind you to this place. No spell shall be woven or illusion spun to cloud your mind. We do have a natural glamour to your kind that we cannot turn off and any food you eat or drink will act as an intoxicant, you will not be subjected to any other effects.”
“May I have the same for Dean?”
“Yes.”
“What does the ritual require from me?”
Gwenoch’s lips quirked and she responded. “That, I will not reveal.”
Sam immediately suspected that the ritual was something he would find objectionable and he thought quickly to add conditions to prevent a long term effect.
“Will you guarantee that no further permanent physical or mental changes or damage will come to myself or Dean during our stay, and that no action we are required to perform will result in either these types of changes or our deaths?"
“Yes.”
“Will you also agree to leave this area, causing no further harm to the inhabitants here?”
“If you complete your part of the bargain, yes.”
Just because he was curious and maybe it would reveal something, Sam asked. “Why Dean? Why me?”
“Power. Don’t tell me you don’t know all about that Sam. I can feel it in you. All that power and how much you love it. Of course, there’s a taint in you too, isn’t there? Drinking demon blood, naughty, naughty Sam.” Gwenoch’s smile was brutal, taunting as she wagged her finger in a parody of parental admonishment.
Anger struck Sam, a flash, quickly followed by the rushing need to put this bitch in her place, remind her she took what belonged to him, a little demonstration to show he wasn’t helpless.
As suddenly as it came up he felt it being pushed down inside him, but not through his own doing. He heard her laugh on the air.
“Ah Samuel, your little parlor tricks are ineffective here. In your world, you could harm mine, but taking me would be stretching it some, even there. We are not demons or angels, although kin to the latter. Think about using them again while you’re my guest, and Dean will pay the price on his flesh.”
The calm certainty of her voice was more terrifying than if her voice contained a threat. She didn’t need threats, and she knew it.
“No more questions.” So getting pissed off hadn’t been his smartest move. “Will you agree to the terms we have bargained for?”
There was only one answer Sam could give. “Yes”
The court echoed with voices. “Bargain heard, promise given and witnessed. So shall it be.”
Gwenoch stood and pointed to the ground. “Down on your knees, Sam.”
Sam knelt, heat crawling up his face. Gwenoch walked down the steps, stood in front of him, and pressed the palm of her hand to his forehead. “Let’s take care of that blood of yours, right now.”
Gwenoch spoke, words Sam couldn’t understand, heat beginning to build where her hand pressed into his forehead. Not just heat now, burning hot flow of lava, but when Sam attempted to pull back, he couldn’t. His head was on fire, and he knew the agonized sounds were his, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the pain spreading, down his spine, through his extremities. His blood boiled, and Sam’s sounds turned to screams, throat gone raw, leaving him gasping when Gwenoch removed her hand. Sam fell, her hand the only thing that had kept him upright, and curled into himself, chest rising and falling, panting.
Sam was vaguely aware of Gwenoch extending her hand to Dean and watching the two of them walk away.
After the audience, Gwenoch took Dean back to her bower and they sat on the edge of the bed.
Mesmerized, Dean had been unable to take his eyes off the stranger. The stranger who seemed to know Dean, even if it wasn’t mutual. Dean had a strange yearning to remember his past and couldn’t help wondering if the tall man was part of it. For the first time in this place, he was filled with something very close to discontent. He had to know, right now.
“That’s the Sammy I’ve been thinking of?"
Gwenoch appraised him, but he couldn’t read the expression in her eyes. He thought maybe it was amusement or wariness. For some reason, Dean believed that reading people was something he was good at, but in this place, he was always unsure.
“Yes, Dean. That was the man you’ve been thinking of.”
“What is he to me?
“In time, pretty. There is plenty of time.”
Dean thinks about the man, can’t help himself really. Tall and beautifully formed, he was almost as gorgeous as the Fae. Dean thought about the inexplicable way the man had made him feel when he first saw him, as if all his crooked wrong bits had slammed together into a completed whole. When they left the throne, Dean felt like part of himself stayed with Samuel, leaving behind a gaping, empty, hollow place Dean didn’t know how to fill.
“I think he might be everything to me.”
Gwenoch’s eyes pinned him, sharp yet compassionate. She raised a hand to Dean’s face, and he nuzzled into the caress. “Yes, Dean,” she said, “I think you are right about that.” Dean didn’t understand the sad wistful smile on her face, but was all too happy to watch it fade as he pulled her into his arms and they tumbled to the bed.
They lay on her bed exchanging wet kisses until Dean was hard and needy.
Gwenoch, curled next to him, running her hands up and down his chest, her hair twining into his, caressing his neck arms, every inch of Dean’s skin it could reach.
“I’d like Samuel to share our bed. Would that be acceptable to you Dean?”
Dean’s cock twitched and beaded at the tip with pre-come. Gwenoch’s warm laughter ran over him. Dean blushed, His body’s reaction was answer enough.
Gwenoch raised one hand. The other she placed on his chest. Dean felt a small electric surge in his chest that he’d come to associate with her using magic.
A short piece of vine dropped from overhead, shimmering to gold before landing in Gwenoch’s hand. Gwenoch moved that hand to Dean’s erection and the golden vine coiled around the base of his cock and bound his sack.
Gwenoch crawled from the bed and stood. She pointed to the center of the bed. “Kneel.”
Dean did, cock hot and heavy between his legs, release waiting on her whim.
“So beautiful, Dean.” Her words warmed Dean clear to his center.
“We’ll join you shortly, Pretty.” Dean didn’t understand why her smile seemed so sad as she turned from him and walked away.
Gwenoch took Sam’s hand in hers and pulled him up from the table, his feasting complete. Her hand felt small in his, delicate. Her eyes, drew him, dark green with golden flecks, and before he knew it, there was no space between their bodies. Her free hand skimmed up his chest curving around his neck, pulling him down and brushing her lips across his. Sam was warm everywhere he touched her and knew it was partially her magic, but that didn’t lessen the arousal.
When her tongue teased over his lip, he groaned and pulled her close, plunging his tongue into her mouth, crushing her soft pliant lips beneath his. Her mouth tasted like wine and spice, and when she pulled back, he tried to chase the taste. Gwenoch pulled back, lips tilted up the corners, eyes full of amusement, as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes.
“See, Sam, I don’t think your duties here will be that onerous.” Her voice was teasing and sultry. “Come with me.” She turned, pulling him after her. Sam let his eyes trace her body as she walked in front of him. She was draped in strips of fabric that writhed around her, almost alive, revealing long, shapely thighs. When the breeze molded to her back, he saw the round curve of her ass, and his hands itched to hold it. He nearly knocked her down when she suddenly stopped. His cock twitched as it made contact with her hip.
Sam raised his eyes and saw that they’d passed into a tree-enclosed bower, the limbs reaching overhead to make a sheltered room. The entire area was taken up with the largest bed he had ever seen. It could easily accommodate three men his size. Kneeling in the center of the bed was Dean, naked but for the gold circlet at his neck. His head was lowered and his hands sat passively on his knees. Dean’s hair was just long enough now that it fell over his forehead and curled slightly in, long enough that Sam would be able to run his fingers through it. Sam swallowed and couldn’t keep his eyes from between Dean’s legs, where his cock was hard and red, curved up to his belly.
Sam quickly looked at Gwenoch, “What - , Why -" his hands flailed in the general direction of Dean.
Gwenoch raised an eyebrow, the amusement clear on her face.
“Sam, you agreed to grace my bed. No stipulations were made on who would share it with us.”
‘Crap, crap, crap’ Sam couldn’t believe he’d been such an idiot. Maybe she wouldn’t expect him to... He couldn’t go there, not even in his own head.
It settled on him that he didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t afford to break his agreement, not if both he and Dean didn’t want to end up as toys. He was under no delusions, no matter how they were treated here, they were expendable if a better use was found for them.
The tiniest part of him could admit that maybe he wasn’t entirely unhappy with the way this was turning out. He did what he always did when faced with something unpalatable, get through it now and deal with the consequences later.
Dean’s eyes lifted up, trailed them over his body, toe to head, lingering on his lips and Sam saw the desire in them. He watched Dean’s teeth worry at his bottom lip, and all Sam could think about was how much he’d like to replace those teeth with his own. Sam groaned, and the trill of Gwenoch’s laughter reached his ears. He looked to see her head tilted to the side, smile knowing and confident.
“I could feel it in you, Sam, the first time you saw your brother at my feet, the lust, the desire, the want. She circled him, one orange nail dragging across his naked skin,, feral, primal, and completely in control.
“I want you to kiss him, Sam,”
“No.” Sam’s not entirely sure why he’s fighting, except for that voice in his head chanting, ‘bad, wrong, brother.’
“Not really your call is it, handsome?”
Sam wanted to hang his head but refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing his defeat. Sam hated that she was right. He didn’t have any choice here, and neither did Dean. Maybe worse than being compelled, was the ugly part of him that was glad, the part of him that had always wanted this and was all too happy to have it, no matter how it came about.
“Do it, Sam.” Her hard tone left him no doubt that she wouldn’t cut him any slack.
He crawled onto the bed, settling himself in front of Dean, mirroring his brother’s kneeling position. Gwenoch was already on the bed, kneeling up behind Dean, somehow having shed her clothes when Sam wasn’t looking. The glimpses he’d had earlier of her skin didn’t do the whole canvas justice. She had peachy cream skin everywhere, her nipples the same carnelian color as her lips, the hair between her legs the same multi-hued crinkles that adorned her head. Her eyes met his in challenge.
Sam put both hands to Dean’s face and brushed his lips across Dean’s, stifling the sound that wanted to escape behind his lips, guilt and lust clenching in his belly. Pulling back was the hardest thing Sam ever had to do. He wanted so much more than that brief touch, but had no right to take it.
“No, Sam. Kiss him like you mean it. I want to see all that passion caged in your soul when you kiss him. Show me, Sam.” Her tone, edged with blades, left him in no doubt that if he didn’t, she would punish them both.
Sam looked into Dean’s eyes, soundlessly begging permission. Dean was the first to lean in, and Sam couldn’t resist, couldn’t fight himself, and Dean, and Gwenoch, and this place. He put a thumb to Dean’s chin, opening his brother’s mouth as he opened his own, sliding his thumb along Dean’s full bottom lip. Sam devoured the moan that slipped from Dean and twined his tongue with his brother's, plundering the soft wet heat, like he couldn’t get enough.
Gwenoch’s hand twined into Sam’s hair, pulling him from Dean’s mouth and to hers. She dove into his mouth stroking, seeking as if she could take the taste of Dean off of him. Sam felt his thumb being sucked into Dean’s mouth, teeth nibbling at the sensitive flesh, and his cock was heavy and throbbing. Gwenoch pulled from his mouth and put both hands on Dean pushing him down on the bed. Dean’s legs stretched out and bracketed Sam’s hips. Gwenoch reached out to stroke Dean’s cock, never taking her eyes from Sam’s, and then she lowered those red, red lips to suck Dean into her mouth.
Sam moved his hands up to the apex of Dean’s thighs, mesmerized by the sight of that mouth sinking onto Dean’s cock, making Sam’s own cock ache. Sam watched as her lips stroked up and down the length of his brother, Dean’s hips rising to thrust into each downward movement. The sounds Dean made, God. He’d imagined it, but his imaginings weren’t even close, breathy gasps that made every nerve-ending twitch with desire. Gwencoh pulled off with an obscene sound, looked at Sam, raised a brow and said, “Your turn.”
“What?” Sam’s voice came out breathy, rather than the shocked he’d been trying for. Heart stopped, time slowed, and Sam forgot how to breathe. His eyes darted from Gwenoch to Dean, rabbit trapped and helpless.
Dean’s hand twined into his. “Sammy, please.”
Looking down at Dean’s sweat slicked body, hips stuttering, and cock so shiny and hard, Sam wanted nothing more than to get his mouth on Dean, to suck him down and drain him. He hated himself a little for his weakness, but it didn’t stop him from dropping down and pulling one of Dean’s legs over his shoulder, sliding his hand over the downy hairs of his legs, skin so tender and unmarked now. He cupped Dean’s ass in one hand and wrapped the other around his cock. Gwenoch was resting her cheek on Dean’s chest, and the curtain of her many-colored-hair spilling over Dean was one of the most erotic things Sam had ever seen. Sam pulled the crown of Dean’s dick into his mouth and couldn’t help the small sound that slipped out as Dean’s hips canted up, pushing further in. Sam wanted more and swallowed Dean down until his lips met the ring of his hand.
Gwenoch’s eyes on them just made every sensation multiply, ratcheting up the intensity. Sam hollowed his cheeks and pulled back to the crown. Dean whimpered under him, hips stuttering and fucking into Sam’s mouth. Sam thrilled to know that he was doing this to Dean. He was the one pulling those sounds out of his far too pretty brother. He pushed his tongue over the slit and watched Dean’s hands clench, head tossing. Gwenoch’s mouth arced in a pleased smile. Sam cupped his tongue against the back of the crown, a spot that always made him lose it and moved his other hand so he could stroke over Dean’s hole.
Dean shouted, body arching up, all tense corded muscle, beautiful and undone. Sam watched Gwenoch’s hand move to the base of Dean’s cock and remove the restraint, and Sam felt the hot fluid filling his mouth, Dean’s hole clenching against his thumb. He’d never been more turned on and thought he could come without being touched. He made himself hold off, knowing the fairy queen was not done with him yet. Sam chased Dean’s orgasm, sucking and swallowing until Dean moved away, spent cock now over sensitized.
“Well…” Gwenoch slid up Dean’s chest burying her face in Dean’s neck, caressing his spent cock. “That went a long way to getting me in the mood Sam. You are very pleasing.”
Jesus just the picture of the two of them lying there was more filthy dirty than any porn Sam had ever seen. Dean all fucked out, Gwenoch all over him and looking at Sam like she was hungry and he was steak.
Gwenoch rose up on hands and knees, moving, prowling over to Sam. She came up to her knees and faced Sam, hands running up his chest, flicking his nipples, and he moaned under her touch, so damn turned on that every caress flowered from bud to bloom. Gwenoch curled one hand behind Sam’s neck pulling him down, his ear brushing her lip.
“Has anyone ever fucked you Sam?”
Dean was sitting up now, his arms wrapped around Gwenoch’s waist, cheek resting against her curve of her hip, and when Sam’s eyes met Dean’s, dark and hooded, Sam knew Dean had heard the question.
This was the first time since Sam had arrived in fairy that the mask of humanity Gwenoch wore slipped. Her eyes were wide and empty, examining him like a bug on a pin, waiting for his answer
“No.” The word came out hard and clipped.
Her lips curled but brought no joy or warmth to her face. Dean behind her licked his lips and moved a hand to Sam’s hip, thumb gliding across the thin skin over the bone.
Quick as it had gone blank, her face was animated again, true amusement flashing as she trilled and told him, “Maybe tomorrow. Right now I want you to fuck me."
“Move over there.” Gwenoch instructed, pointing to the head of the bed. “Stretch out with your arms over your head, face up.”
His duties might not be objectionable, but her tone of voice rubbed Sam the wrong way. Submitting to her commands was taking all of his self-control. Sam took the position as directed.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something twine around his hands and forearms, pulling his wrists together and securing him. He pulled against the binding, but discovered he was held fast. Panic was rising up in him. Dean knelt near his feet. Reaching out one hand, he grabbed Sam’s foot and rubbed circles across it, making shushing sounds. Just the thought of Dean attempting to comfort him in this situation made the panic turn to something like the giggles, which came out high and agitated.
Gwenoch crawled over Sam, straddling his waist. His erection was flagging, but when Gwenoch leaned over him, lips against his ear, hair touching him everywhere and whispered, “Want Dean to suck you Sam?” he was hard again before she’d even sat back up. Amusement was carved into her features.
She rose up, her thighs flexing, and she wiggled back down his body. Dean was behind her and he brought both of his hands flat against the top of Sam’s thighs, holding him still as surely as the vines held his arms. Dean’s hands there, and a switch flipped, tolerable was exciting, pleasurable, a rush.
Gwenoch’s ass dragged across his cock as she shimmied back, and his cock throbbed, hips jerking up, anticipating what she was promising. Sam could see his dick straining against her cunt, unable to do anything but wait until she lowered herself. Gwenoch’s eyes were hooded now as she looked down at him, her hands resolutely planted against her thighs, her hips swaying just enough to tease. Shock and arousal made Sam whimper when Dean’s hand parted the fold of Gwenoch’s flesh and positioned Sam at her entrance. Sam bit his lip as he pulled air into his lungs.
Warm and wet engulfed his cock as Gwenoch sank over him. Dean twined his hands around Gwenoch’s waist and Sam’s eyes locked with Dean’s as Gwenoch began to ride him. Sam watched Dean’s hands, stroking over pale skin, one at Gwenoch’s breast, thumbing across a nipple, one between her legs stroking across her clit
Sam’s hips rose in time with her downward thrusts. On every thrust he could feel Dean’s fingertip glide down his cock along with the tight female heat that encased him. That single caress and Dean’s dark gaze were more electrifying than the woman who rode him, her back arched, head thrown back, lashes pressed to her cheek, Dean’s hands bringing her to orgasm. Dean’s touch twisted something up inside of Sam in ways he couldn’t even describe.
Dean flattened his hand, circling his palm over Gwenoch’s clit, causing his fingers to curl against Sam’s cock on the next downward slide. That simple contact undid him and Sam was thrusting erratically, spilling inside of Gwenoch. Dean’s hands brought Gwenoch to her release, and each pulse of her orgasm around Sam milked the last of the come from his cock.
Gwenoch pulled off him and rolled over, curling around Sam’s side, one hand idly stroking across his abdomen, smile flitting across her lips.
Dean was still kneeling between his knees, eyes dark and hungry as they roved over Sam.
“Dean.” At the sound of her voice, Dean’s attention turned to Gwenoch. “Something to clean up with.”
Dean crawled from the bed and came back with wet warm towels. Gwenoch took one from his hand and smiled her approval. Dean preened under the unspoken praise. Sam saw someone he didn’t know then, someone eager to please and desperate for approval. Was this Dean under the Dean he knew and Sam had never realized?
Gwenoch cleaned herself, and Dean wiped Sam. Dean wiped the come from his hips and belly with slow even strokes, working around his cock and between Sam’s legs. Sam was so caught in the feel of Dean’s fingers, pressing through the towel against his skin, that it took a few minutes to realize his arms had been freed.
Sam rubbed the skin of one arm with the opposite hand, not really needing the stimulation, but wanting an excuse for busy hands so Dean wouldn’t stop his ministrations. When Dean finished, he tossed the towels to the floor. Gwenoch moved and motioned Dean between her and Sam, where they framed him, one to either side. Sam desperately wanted to touch his brother’s skin, run finger tips dot-to-dot across freckles, but he settled for laying a hand over Dean’s heart.
Watching Gwenoch relaxed and sated with sex, Sam felt safe in asking some questions. “How did Dean get these?” Sam was tracing the faded bruises, cuts, and what looked like bite marks that crossed his brother’s chest and hips.
“Gwenoch’s hand followed his. “These,” she said as she traced the bruises and thin slices along Dean’s chest were done by one of the court nobles. Dean agreed to help me by visiting the noble in his bedchamber. This particular noble has…selective tastes.”
“Could I take over his duties?”
“No!” Dean sat up then, alert, fear and worry on his face. Gwenoch pushed Dean back flat, her tiny palm all that was required for compliance, but Dean watched her, a plea in his eyes.
Gwenoch moued at Sam, clearly considering his offer.
“You have nothing left to bargain with that I want.”
Sam shrugged but didn’t answer.
“Do you understand what you’re offering, Sam? Do you know what Dean’s been doing?”
Sam noted that Gwenoch’s gaze flicked quickly to Dean, caught the slight negation of head that Dean gave Gwenoch. Sam understood that Dean didn’t want her to reveal everything to Sam.
Sam had some idea. He flashed on the fresh marks he’d observed on Dean’s back, bleeding stripes crossing over marks barely scabs, over smaller white marks under that. Dean’s body language screamed that, whatever he was doing, it didn’t just end at the visible punishment to his body. Sam didn’t care. He wanted to take care of Dean, take the punishment himself if the Fae would agree.
Dean’s hand hovered over Gwenoch’s belly and tension radiated from every line in his body. Sam saw the fine tremble in his brother’s hand as he laid it against Gwenoch’s flesh and barely caught the whispered, “Please,” Dean uttered.
Gwenoch brought a hand over Dean’s and smiled at him in reassurance.
“No, Sam.” Just as suddenly as Dean had tensed up, every fiber of him released and loosened.
Sam clenched his fist tight and tried to let all the loathing he felt reflect in his eyes. Gwenoch rested her hand over his, and her voice was gentle. “Sam, everything your brother has done here, he consented to. He said yes.”
“After he ate your food, drank your wine and was seduced by your glamour.” Venom dripped from his voice, and he couldn’t stop it, even though he knew he had little control here.
“Sam, I won’t deny we clouded Dean’s senses, but the effects are little more than having a few drinks would be in your reality. Do you really believe that every time your brother went to a bar, got a little drunk and had sex, he was being raped?”
Some of Sam’s anger faded a little, because he knew Dean had done exactly what she was describing on more than one occasion. He also understood that she was downplaying exactly how clouded Dean’s mind was. Her argument took away some of the guilt and anger, but he knew that without being whole, without his memories, Dean couldn’t really consent.
Gwenoch continued, “We have rules, primarily because we don’t want too much attention. Violating those rules would see me deposed. Not to mention, I don’t have the power or the strength of my summer and winter cousins. We rely on other skills. In this court, we seduce and manipulate, and we are very good at it.” She was almost purring, and Sam felt his dick twitch in response. A smile that could only be described as wicked lit her face.
Sam was beginning to understand how Dean had caved to the pull of this place. Especially considering that the last few months of their lives had been more trying than ever before. Sam moved his finger lower against Dean’s hip bone, “What about these?” They were purple, similar in shape and color to a hickey, but around the top and bottom was a row of what appeared to be small needle marks.
“I’d like to show you, if you will let me?”
Sam nodded his consent, figuring that anything Dean could get through, he could as well.
Dean was silent, sleepy between them, eyes shifting lazily to watch Sam.
Gwenoch made a high pitched sound, and the bower was filled by at least two dozen tiny fairies, including the blue one who had met him in the grove. Sam noticed that each fairy was a different color ranging across the many shades found in flowering plants. Both males and females buzzed and cooed over head, their noises almost musical. Gwenoch raised her hand, and the blue female landed on her hand.
“She took a liking to you, Sam, and would very much like to feed from you. Will you permit it?”
Sam felt nervous looking into her dark black eyes, their demon like appearance still unnerving, but reminded himself that Dean had been subjected to this more than once. He pointed to the meaty part of his shoulder in affirmation.
The tiny blue fairy flitted over to him and when she placed her delicate palms against Sam’s skin, he could feel his flesh pimple. When she put her tiny wet lips to his shoulder, he didn’t understand how it could be erotic, but he could feel himself becoming aroused. When her teeth sunk into his skin, he failed to think. It was the most intense sensation he had ever been on the receiving end of and that was saying a lot considering he’d been knifed, shot, and had his fair share of mind-blowing sex. It was a bolt of white-hot pain he could feel to the bottom of his spine, and simultaneously, what had been mild arousal became the need to fuck mindlessly.
The feelings coursed through him on a loop until she lifted her mouth and retracted her teeth. Sam was dimly aware that he was supine on the bed and that his hands were clenched in the sheets. Gwenoch was now straddling his thighs, and her hand was locked around his almost painful erection.
“Jesus Christ,” Sam gasped. Gwenochs laugh trilled over him.
Dean curled his body around Sam, brought his hand up to join Gwenoch’s, slender boyish fingers next to her delicate ones. It took only a couple of pulls and Sam was coming, again, hot wet spurts coursing over twined hands. Dean’s lips against his ear, “So fucking gorgeous, Sammy”
The last thing Sam remembered was the touch of warm fingers pressing to his forehead and the voice like falling leaves that whispered, “Sleep.”
Part 4