Wrapped in Honey 6/?
Chapter 6
Dean woke up panting and sweating and for a moment he had no clue whose bed he was lying in or who the man next to him was. But he didn't actually care. Nor did he care if the guy was awake or not.
Dean got out of bed, searched for his clothes and left the room as quietly as possible. He needed a drink.
Just like the other night the moon was bright enough to light his way so he didn't bother with the lights. Lucky him, Sam had a well stocked bar. Dean helped himself to a stiff drink - Sam had said he should make himself at home, hadn't he? - and then settled on the couch with the bottle in easy reach. He probably needed more than one drink.
Of course Sam had woken up and joined him before Dean had even finished his second drink.
"I'm sorry." Sam said but didn't take away the bottle. "I didn't mean to make it this bad for you."
"Wasn't you." Dean finished his drink and eyed the bottle but decided against another one. "To be honest, that was the best sex I ever had."
They sat in silence and Dean waited for the questions. If it wasn't the sex, what was it then, but Sam didn't ask.
"So this is it?" Dean let his elbows rest on his knees. "We roll in the sheets once a month and the rest of the time we pretend to be best buddies?"
"Pretty much." Sam took his abandoned glass and poured himself a drink.
"For how long?"
"A while." Sam answered without looking at him.
"You mean forever."
Sam finished the drink in one go and set the glass back on the table.
"Is it so bad?" Sam asked.
"It could be worse." Dean had to admit. "But keeping me prisoner here puts a real damper on the whole idea."
Sam didn't say anything to that but Dean didn't expect him to. There was nothing to say.
"Think you can sleep now?"
"I'd like to sit here for a while."
Reluctantly Sam left him alone and for a long time Dean just sat there, staring at the bottle, debating if it was a good idea to get drunk or not. It was his proven remedy when the nightmares took over but in his current situation it probably wasn't the best idea.
He sat there until the sky slowly turned purple with the rising sun, only then he found his way to bed.
Sam let him sleep as long as he wanted but had coffee ready when he finally came downstairs in the late morning.
"How do you feel?" Sam asked and handed him a cup. "If you feel sleepy, that's normal."
For after you fed off me, Dean completed the sentence in his mind and it still sounded wrong.
"Are there any other side effects I should know about?"
"Not really." Sam answered easily. "I'm not taking anything your body can't replace with a bit of time. You'll get used to it and won't even feel anything after a while. As long as your body has time to recover you'll be fine."
"What if you don't give me time to recover?" Dean asked with a challenging eye on Sam.
"You would die." Sam hold his gaze. "But we'll keep it to the bare minimum so no need to worry about that."
After an awkward breakfast, Dean had no idea how to act around the man who'd bought him and with whom he had world shaking sex last night, he declined Sam's offer to spend some time together and excused himself to his room instead.
He couldn't stand it for longer than an hour, though. He stared at the same page of the magazine for minutes without reading it, his mind buzzing with memories.
When he came back downstairs he found Sam lazily stretched out on the couch with his laptop.
"Is it okay if I turn on the TV?" Dean asked after a long moment. He needed something mindless to flood his brain and TV usually did the trick. However, he wasn't sure about the protocol here, he was the prisoner - slave, his mind helpfully provided - and Sam was the boss around here.
"Suit yourself." Sam smiled at him, a little dreamy and with an expression like a cat after it got the cream. Well fed, was the term coming to mind.
This time Dean took the chair and didn't leave it for hours. He didn't care what he was watching as long as it was a constant stream of noises and images overlaying the ones in his head.
He was still tired and at some point he nodded off.
Sam woke him for dinner and after that they had a rather relaxed evening with popcorn, beer and a movie. Dean could almost forget that he wasn't hanging out with a friend but no matter how nice Sam was, he was the one keeping Dean prisoner and that was a fact he could never forget.
The next day was Monday and by the time Dean was up, Sam had already left for work. He had left a note, though.
Back at 5:30
Mi casa es tu casa, I mean it.
Sam
Dean made himself a coffee and pondered his options while he slowly nursed the strong brew. When the caffeine started to work, he stood up and put his cup in the dishwasher.
"Okay, you bastard." And with that he searched the whole loft, starting with Sam's bedroom, for something he could use in his advantage.
A way to undo the spell keeping him there would be awesome but he was also looking for any kind of information he could get.
He didn't find anything on the spell, if there was something Sam had taken it with him, but he found out that Sam sorted his clothes by color, had apparently a tie fetish and used shampoo with almond and coconut flavor.
And he had rather large collection of sex toys. Dean whistled when he opened the chest at the foot of Sam's bed. Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs and a lot of other stuff. Some of them stayed a mystery to Dean and if he was honest, he wasn't keen on finding out what some of them were used for.
Given Sam's nature, the collection hardly came as a surprise and he wondered when Sam would bring them up. Dean closed the chest and left the bedroom with an uneasy feeling in his guts.
He had noticed the shelves downstairs under the gallery with books and DVDs before but now he had a closer look at them. Mainly he was hoping for something hidden there. If there was he didn't find it, but he couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer amount of stuff. In the hall of a room the shelves didn't seem like much but Sam must have hundreds of films and books hoarded here. All sorted by author and genre, the movies even by year too as far as he could tell.
"Won't die of boredom, that's for sure."
As promised Sam was back at 5:30 and by then Dean had everything back in order and Sam would never know that he'd snooped around in his underwear, which was also sorted by color and even held a pair of pink briefs.
The days of the first week went by with Dean searching for information while Sam was at work, checking and double-checking every drawer and every corner. Dean didn't know how many hours he stood at the door to the stairs, trying to will his body to make that one step. It never worked.
They spent the evenings and the next weekend together with movies, pool and a game of poker. All in all it wasn't that bad. Sam never touched him and tried to be friendly in a not intrusive way.
Dean even took Sam up on the offer to call Bobby. Just to see if Bobby got his car back home safely but the thing Dean actually needed was to hear his friend's voice. Like the last time Dean didn't get a chance to get out a call for help, though.
After that one chili incident which had left Dean running the whole night - Sam either had an iron-clad stomach or this was the final proof that he wasn't human at all - , Dean had taken over cooking. Out of pure self-preservation.
By the time the second week rolled around Dean had accepted that there was no way out. He couldn't leave, he couldn't harm or threaten Sam, he couldn't even hurt himself on purpose.
Oh, he could cut himself by accident just fine, he'd found out while chopping onions, but as soon as he tried to make the smallest cut on purpose, he just couldn't.
The books and movies kept him busy that second week but one could only read that much at a time.
Dean noticed that the dishwasher made a strange noise and that the faucet in Sam's bathroom was leaking and he was pretty sure with a little maintenance the A/C would work a lot better.
He hadn't seen any tools around but he was bound to this floor and there was probably more in the basement he just couldn't access. So he asked Sam who eagerly brought half a hardware store upstairs at his request. Apparently the whole equipment of the old factory was stored down there. Dean was dying to have a look but had to do with the stuff Sam brought him.
The tools were old and dusty, not used in years, but he got everything he needed to do the various repairs.
After that second week Dean had an even closer eye on Sam than before. As much as he would have liked to pretend that he had forgotten about that one particular bit of Sam's offer back at the market, he clearly remembered him saying "once or twice a month".
And sure enough, the content, lazy Sam Dean had gotten to know right after their night together wore off over time and slowly but surely he became restless, almost erratic.
He wouldn't make it through the whole four weeks before he'd need to feed again, Dean realized.
He almost made it through week three, though.
They had dinner as usual with Sam talking about his day in the office, when all of a sudden Sam said: "I need it."
Dean froze, fork half-way to this mouth.
"Okay." He managed to say, not quit sure how he felt about the fact that he'd just been ordered to the other man's bed.
"In the next few days." Sam added without looking at him. "Just tell me when you're ready."
Dean excused himself directly after dinner and spent the rest of the evening in his room.
He had known that Sam would ask sooner or later and the last time hadn't been that bad, quite the opposite, but still.
Sam needed it and if Dean didn't deliver he would bring him back to the market. Roll over and spread your legs on command or get eaten by a werewolf. Dean didn't like it but he had no choice.
But Sam had also said that Dean had the saying in what they did. That this was about Dean's pleasure. That he was fine with almost everything as long as Dean got off on it. Time to test the boundaries.
So the next day when they'd finished their dinner, Dean cornered Sam in the kitchen and caught his lips in a fierce kiss.
"I take that as a tonight?" Sam asked when they finally parted. Dean licked his lips, willingly dosing himself up with Sam's saliva.
He would have been lying if he denied that he had been turned on before that, Sam was a smoking hot guy, but this surely helped.
Dean grabbed his ass and brought their hips together. Through the denim he felt Sam's growing erection against his own rising cock.
"What would you say." He ground against him, coaxing a moan from Sam's lips. "If I said I want to bend you over the counter, slick up with cooking oil and just take you?" He locked eyes with Sam. He had meant it as a challenge, one he didn't expect Sam to accept, but damn, that thought was hot.
"I'd say you know where the oil is."
Chapter 7
Masterpost