Fanfic - SPN: Owned (Sam/Dean)
Title: Owned [Evil!Sammy Universe]
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester
Prompt: 012. Broken. For 100moods, challenge table here. As well as: 047. Writer's Choice. For 50kinkyways, challenge table here.
Word Count: 1085 words exactly.
Rating: NC-17 for language, sexuality, and violence.
Warnings/Spoilers: Angst! Dark! Future. Apocalypse. Slash. Wincest. Manipulation. Dubious-Con. Graphic m/m sex. Kink. Smut. Violence. AU after "Simon Said". Potential vague spoilers for "Home," "Nightmare," "Hell House," and "In My Time of Dying".
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: Dean's POV. After the Day of Fire, Dean learns his new place in society and in Sam's life. More dark and angsty than smutty.
Author's Notes: This story follows shortly after The Heat Outside Would Never Warm Him (Sam/Dean) and a few months before Begging for You (Sam/Dean). For more info about my Evil!Sammy Universe, including links to all installments, please go here.
Dean's naked back pressed against the wall and his cock, in Sam's hand, pulsed with the heat of his blood as Sam toyed with him. Sam's other hand rested on the wall beside Dean's head, propping him up and boxing Dean in.
"I can't do this. Not like this. You know if you'd ask … you always could get me to try anything, Sam."
Dean tried to smile and half-laugh, as if the man in front of him was still the Sam he'd dared to drink gunk from a haunted cellar. But this Sam's eyes never hinted that he even remembered times they'd had that were good enough to make him grin wide like Sammy used to do.
"But I won't do it like that, be with you like that, like I'm not really a person or something." His brow furrowed. "I won't do it, Sam. I won't."
The lack of any real reaction in Sam's face made Dean turn away from those empty eyes, his jaw set, staring numbly toward the corner. His breath hitched when Sam thumbed over the head of his cock and massaged his sensitive slit.
"You don't really have a choice, Dean."
Dean's head snapped back in line with Sam's, his expression angry and incredulous.
"I'm not some jacket or- or chair or- toy-fucking-pistol, Sam! You can't … own me!"
Sam was so calm, so unnaturally calm, and his mouth twisted up in a half-smirk, warped like a funhouse mirror-copy of the one Dean loved so much.
"But I do, Dean. I do. Laws of the land are different now. Even you can see that out our floor-to-ceiling windows. The Fallen are kings among us now, as they were meant to be, and no Hunter can live free, especially not you. And honestly, Dean, I'd rather own you than kill you right now, but that doesn't mean I won't make you scream for me if I have to."
The even tone of Sam's voice and the soothing stroke of his hand on Dean's cock felt so distant from his words, disconnected and perverse. There was so much wrong in Sam, all the segments of his mind out of line and intentionally jumbled, and Dean almost wished Sam would forgo every single tenderness. Because it might just be easier if he didn't have to reconcile touches like those he used to know with all the brutal threats dripping like acid from Sam's lips.
"If you want to see your paperwork, though, if you think it'll help you understand, let me know. I might even decide to frame a copy for the wall, so you don't forget your place here."
Dean wouldn't be able to forget, his freedom torn to shreds by some government of evil, and he wouldn't be able to just give in to what Sam wanted, not without a fight.
"No, Sam."
Dean looked boldly at his brother, his eyes hard with challenge and nearly fearless.
"No."
Sam took a deep breath, looking down then back up at Dean, and exhaled slowly with a serious nod. He almost seemed sad for a moment, but when Dean blinked, whatever he thought he saw was gone.
"You're my property, Dean. My. Property. The sooner you understand that, the better off we'll both be."
The hard edge returned to Sam's voice and Dean felt a chill run through him.
"So tell me, Dean - what are you?"
Dean wouldn't say it. He wouldn't. It wasn't true in any sane world, any world that mattered. And he would not say it.
But then he could feel his throat constrict, a building strain in his chest, and swore he wouldn't choke up over this. He hadn't cried since … and it didn't matter because the pressure just kept building and he realized Sam was wringing at his chest with the vines of his power.
"Say it."
Dean felt a rush of heaviness sinking in him, his head throbbing and fuzzy from quickly diminishing stores of oxygen, and he knew this was a battle that he might never win.
"I'm … your … property."
It came out as a growling whisper, but the pain in his chest plateaued, a steady ache, and Sam said, "Again."
"I'm … your … property."
"Yes. You are. Again. "
It felt like chunks of him were slipping off into a wasteland every time he said it. The words Sam forced on him grinding through teeth clenched so hard he thought he might already taste the copper of his blood.
"I'm your property."
"Good." Sam's breath burned on the skin of his neck as his fingers ghosted over Dean's cock. "Again."
"I'm your property."
"Yes. You are."
It was easier to breath now. He still hurt, but it felt like it would fade. Sam's hand fisted him, pumping his dick slowly, as he kissed at Dean's neck. And Dean swore he'd have scorch marks in the morning from the heat pouring out between Sam's lips.
He thought that it was over, but it had only just begun.
"Now, I can keep you on edge like this for as long as I like." Sam strengthened his grip, rubbing over the ridge on the underside of Dean's cock, making him gasp and whine.
"And there are always less pleasurable options, if that attitude of yours comes back." It hit him like a knife in the back, sudden and deep. The pain in his chest was sharp this time, if brief. It clutched at his heart, scraping at skin and sinew in ways far too familiar.
He couldn't stop himself from crying out, quiet only when he felt the magicks leave his body.
"So, why don't you repeat that phrase until you believe it, Dean, and maybe you'll get some relief tonight."
Sam's weak smile held no warmth and Dean knew that the Sam who was with him now would push him and push him, until he broke for good.
"What. Are. You?"
Dean shuddered at the menacing authority in Sam's voice and tightened his jaw, as if that could somehow stem the flood of words that he'd repeat a hundred times. Repeat until his voice was raw and his face was red with shame.
This was life now. Him and Sam, like this. There was nothing else left, nothing but this.
And gleaming pieces of the man he used to be left salt-slick trails across his skin and slid away into the dark between his body and his brother.
"I'm your property."
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester
Prompt: 012. Broken. For 100moods, challenge table here. As well as: 047. Writer's Choice. For 50kinkyways, challenge table here.
Word Count: 1085 words exactly.
Rating: NC-17 for language, sexuality, and violence.
Warnings/Spoilers: Angst! Dark! Future. Apocalypse. Slash. Wincest. Manipulation. Dubious-Con. Graphic m/m sex. Kink. Smut. Violence. AU after "Simon Said". Potential vague spoilers for "Home," "Nightmare," "Hell House," and "In My Time of Dying".
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing.
Summary: Dean's POV. After the Day of Fire, Dean learns his new place in society and in Sam's life. More dark and angsty than smutty.
Author's Notes: This story follows shortly after The Heat Outside Would Never Warm Him (Sam/Dean) and a few months before Begging for You (Sam/Dean). For more info about my Evil!Sammy Universe, including links to all installments, please go here.
Dean's naked back pressed against the wall and his cock, in Sam's hand, pulsed with the heat of his blood as Sam toyed with him. Sam's other hand rested on the wall beside Dean's head, propping him up and boxing Dean in.
"I can't do this. Not like this. You know if you'd ask … you always could get me to try anything, Sam."
Dean tried to smile and half-laugh, as if the man in front of him was still the Sam he'd dared to drink gunk from a haunted cellar. But this Sam's eyes never hinted that he even remembered times they'd had that were good enough to make him grin wide like Sammy used to do.
"But I won't do it like that, be with you like that, like I'm not really a person or something." His brow furrowed. "I won't do it, Sam. I won't."
The lack of any real reaction in Sam's face made Dean turn away from those empty eyes, his jaw set, staring numbly toward the corner. His breath hitched when Sam thumbed over the head of his cock and massaged his sensitive slit.
"You don't really have a choice, Dean."
Dean's head snapped back in line with Sam's, his expression angry and incredulous.
"I'm not some jacket or- or chair or- toy-fucking-pistol, Sam! You can't … own me!"
Sam was so calm, so unnaturally calm, and his mouth twisted up in a half-smirk, warped like a funhouse mirror-copy of the one Dean loved so much.
"But I do, Dean. I do. Laws of the land are different now. Even you can see that out our floor-to-ceiling windows. The Fallen are kings among us now, as they were meant to be, and no Hunter can live free, especially not you. And honestly, Dean, I'd rather own you than kill you right now, but that doesn't mean I won't make you scream for me if I have to."
The even tone of Sam's voice and the soothing stroke of his hand on Dean's cock felt so distant from his words, disconnected and perverse. There was so much wrong in Sam, all the segments of his mind out of line and intentionally jumbled, and Dean almost wished Sam would forgo every single tenderness. Because it might just be easier if he didn't have to reconcile touches like those he used to know with all the brutal threats dripping like acid from Sam's lips.
"If you want to see your paperwork, though, if you think it'll help you understand, let me know. I might even decide to frame a copy for the wall, so you don't forget your place here."
Dean wouldn't be able to forget, his freedom torn to shreds by some government of evil, and he wouldn't be able to just give in to what Sam wanted, not without a fight.
"No, Sam."
Dean looked boldly at his brother, his eyes hard with challenge and nearly fearless.
"No."
Sam took a deep breath, looking down then back up at Dean, and exhaled slowly with a serious nod. He almost seemed sad for a moment, but when Dean blinked, whatever he thought he saw was gone.
"You're my property, Dean. My. Property. The sooner you understand that, the better off we'll both be."
The hard edge returned to Sam's voice and Dean felt a chill run through him.
"So tell me, Dean - what are you?"
Dean wouldn't say it. He wouldn't. It wasn't true in any sane world, any world that mattered. And he would not say it.
But then he could feel his throat constrict, a building strain in his chest, and swore he wouldn't choke up over this. He hadn't cried since … and it didn't matter because the pressure just kept building and he realized Sam was wringing at his chest with the vines of his power.
"Say it."
Dean felt a rush of heaviness sinking in him, his head throbbing and fuzzy from quickly diminishing stores of oxygen, and he knew this was a battle that he might never win.
"I'm … your … property."
It came out as a growling whisper, but the pain in his chest plateaued, a steady ache, and Sam said, "Again."
"I'm … your … property."
"Yes. You are. Again. "
It felt like chunks of him were slipping off into a wasteland every time he said it. The words Sam forced on him grinding through teeth clenched so hard he thought he might already taste the copper of his blood.
"I'm your property."
"Good." Sam's breath burned on the skin of his neck as his fingers ghosted over Dean's cock. "Again."
"I'm your property."
"Yes. You are."
It was easier to breath now. He still hurt, but it felt like it would fade. Sam's hand fisted him, pumping his dick slowly, as he kissed at Dean's neck. And Dean swore he'd have scorch marks in the morning from the heat pouring out between Sam's lips.
He thought that it was over, but it had only just begun.
"Now, I can keep you on edge like this for as long as I like." Sam strengthened his grip, rubbing over the ridge on the underside of Dean's cock, making him gasp and whine.
"And there are always less pleasurable options, if that attitude of yours comes back." It hit him like a knife in the back, sudden and deep. The pain in his chest was sharp this time, if brief. It clutched at his heart, scraping at skin and sinew in ways far too familiar.
He couldn't stop himself from crying out, quiet only when he felt the magicks leave his body.
"So, why don't you repeat that phrase until you believe it, Dean, and maybe you'll get some relief tonight."
Sam's weak smile held no warmth and Dean knew that the Sam who was with him now would push him and push him, until he broke for good.
"What. Are. You?"
Dean shuddered at the menacing authority in Sam's voice and tightened his jaw, as if that could somehow stem the flood of words that he'd repeat a hundred times. Repeat until his voice was raw and his face was red with shame.
This was life now. Him and Sam, like this. There was nothing else left, nothing but this.
And gleaming pieces of the man he used to be left salt-slick trails across his skin and slid away into the dark between his body and his brother.
"I'm your property."