Sammy's Little Boy Part 1
Jan. 17th, 2014 10:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
majestic_duxkFor this kinkmeme fill.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Kinks: humilation, daddy kink, spanking, bottom Dean
Summary: Dean has been hit by a curse which has changed him in a way that hits him right where it hurts. Sam is there to take advantage of it - this was the role that Dean was meant to play.
part 2 part 3
It should have been a typical salt and burn. But they never were. Not when witches were involved.
“I fucking hate witches,” Dean told Sam, as they ducked from yet another spell. “They are nasty pieces of work.” Which when you think about it was bad timing, as the witch appeared in front of Dean at that moment. Although he stuck in the knife in (and enjoyed it, he was man enough to admit it), she still had the juice for one last spell. Dean felt a slight tingle in his cock and balls, but didn't think much else of it. He was always getting tingles here and there. Much better than things getting cut off. Or bleeding out. Or Hell. A slight tingle he could deal with.
At least he thought so.
“What the ever loving fuck???”
Deans shout brought Sam running to the bathroom.
“Dean? What happened? Are you Ok?”
Dean had been standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror, just staring, but he quickly turned grabbing a towel and thrusting it in front of him. “Get out Sam. Just get out. I’m fine. I’m fucking fine.”
Sam had backed away obediently. But not before he got a look at Dean’s crotch.
And that had been worth seeing.
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“Where are you off to?”
Dean was dressed for a night out. It was only 8 o’clock, but he had been edgy all night. Twitching on the bed, walking in and out of the bathroom, pacing the room. Eventually he had taken himself back to the bathroom, only to emerge in the jeans which showcased his oh so fuckable ass, and a shirt that was tight in all the right places. Sam could admit Dean looked hot. And if Sam had his way, which he fully intended to, he wouldn't just be looking.
Tilting his head, he stared at Dean. Now that he thought about it, Dean was looking a little different. A little more butch than usual? Sam grinned to himself. It always felt like Dean was trying just a bit too hard to prove his masculinity. It never stopped him looking like he should be pushed down while someone (Sam?) shoved a hard cock in his ass, but Dean had been vocal (and active) in pursuing his heterosexuality. And today, more than ever, Dean would be feeling that his masculinity was in danger. Oh, and he had a great reason.
“Looking very manly Dean.”
Dean shot Sam a look.
“Heading out for any reason in particular?”
“Do I need a reason, Sammy?” Dean spat. Oh yes, Dean was definitely feeling on edge.
Sam allowed a little of his satisfaction to bleed through. “Of course not Dean. Have fun. Be back by 11 please. We have some things to talk about.”
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Dean sat at the bar, trying to sort through his feelings. Ugh, it made him feel sick, talking like that even to himself. Sam was the one big on the chick flick moments. Dean was the one who was all action, not talk talk talk. Or thoughts. Or feelings. Oh fucking hell, he was screwed. He allowed himself to wallow for a moment. His life sucked. It totally sucked. He didn't want to talk to Sam – Sam would probably laugh. But who else would know how to deal with a curse from a dead witch.
Dean sipped his beer. Here he was all by himself. No one to help. No one to go to. All alone, with no one here beside him. Although... A name crossed his mind, and he grabbed his phone, cursing himself. What was wrong with him? The witches’ curse shouldn't have affected his head. He quickly dialed Bobby’s number.
“What’s up, boy. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“Ah, not much, Bobby. Just finished a hunt and things went a little... well, they didn't go according to plan.”
Dean could hear Bobby take a deep breath. ‘Not according to plan’ tended to mean 'really fucking terrible'.
“What sort of not according to plan?”
“I got cursed Bobby. It isn't life threatening, but the witch who cast it is dead and gone. Is there any way to maybe... reverse a curse?”
For a few moments all Dean heard was silence. “Dean, generally you need the witch who cast it to reverse it. Or at least to have something of the witch to make a counter spell. You boys are far too sensible to leave bits of unashed witch.”
Dean responded to the question in Bobby’s voice. “She’s gone, Bobby. Salted and burned. So, no other way? None at all?”
Bobby's voice grew worried. “I'll look into it Dean, but I don’t think so. Have you asked Sam?”
“Woahoahoah – no. No. No. No. This is not something I want to talk to Sam about. And anyway, you're the best researcher we have Bobby! If you can’t help, then there is no way that Sam can.”
There was a disbelieving pause on the other end of the phone. “By 'not wanting to ask Sam about it', does that mean 'not mentioned at all?'”
“Guilty as charged, Bobby. I’ll be fine. It doesn't affect anything. But if you hear anything, just let me know, Ok?”
He heard Bobby sigh. “I think you’re a damn idjit boy. But I will look into it.”
“Thanks Bobby. You’re a lifesaver.”
Dean drained his beer, then glanced at the clock. It was almost 11, so he should head back. Standing up, Dean grabbed his phone then paused. What the fuck? Since when did he run home just because Sam said? Shaking his head, Dean sat back down and then raised his hand for another drink. Dean Winchester didn't go home before 11. And certainly not sober. Hopefully if he stayed out late Sam would be asleep before he got back.
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Unfortunately Sam was still up when Dean staggered in as quietly as he could at 3am.
He was seated on his bed, staring at the laptop, but he looked up as Dean came in. He then closed the top, put it to the side, and just stared at Dean.
"Uhh... Porn, Sammy? Don’t let me stop you. Good to see my baby boy all grown up."
This was obviously the wrong thing to say, because instead of the normal blushes and stammering, Dean received a smoldering look.
"Didn't I say be home at 11, Dean?"
Deciding to ignore it, Dean headed to the bathroom. "You should have seen the girls out tonight. Wooboy, Sammy! There were some sweet ones. Ones to suit even your college boy tastes."
“I had a call from Bobby.”
Dean cursed Bobby seven ways to Sunday in his head. He should have asked Bobby not to call Sam. Why hadn't he learnt that one yet? “Oh yeah? What’d he have to say?”
“Just that you called. Had a little curse problem.” Sam raised his voice at this point. “Were you going to tell me at any point, Dean? That you got cursed? Today?!”
Dean walked back into the bedroom and gave Sam his most long suffering look. “It doesn't affect anything, Sammy. It doesn't change how we hunt, or anything. And Bobby couldn't help anyway.”
“Why? What else did he say?”
“Just that with the witch salted and burned there was probably no way to reverse it.” Dean fell silent, bemoaning his fate again. It was a damn clever curse – it didn't really hurt him, but it hit him where he hurt most. It just wasn't fair.
He didn't notice Sam move until Sam's chin was resting on his shoulder, and his arms were around his waist.
“Fuck, Sammy! What are you doing? I’m fine and you don’t need to hug me!”
“So, what’s the curse then?”
Dean’s body stiffened and he tried to pull away. Sam just tightened his arms, not allowing Dean any escape.
“It doesn't matter Sam. I've assessed it, and it doesn't affect the hunt. It doesn't affect us. So don't worry about it. Is that your cock sticking into my ass???”
Dean struggled again. Because yes, it was Sam's rather large and rather hard cock pressed right up against Dean’s ass.
“It is Dean. But it isn't sticking in your ass. Not yet anyway. Do you know what I saw today Dean? When I went into the bathroom? I saw you."
Dean saw no reason to respond to this, fighting as he was to get out of his brother's arms. He knew he could take his little brother in a fair fight, but he was starting from behind. He jerked and twisted, all to no avail. All that happened was Sam seemed to get harder.
“Fuck” he muttered under his breath.
“Oh I think so Dean. And I think you will be thanking me for it.”
With that Dean was suddenly loose, but Sam was already behind him, crowding him and pushing him onto the bed. He fell flat on his back, and went to roll away, but Sam was already there, pushing his arms up, and securing his wrists to the headboard with some conveniently placed cuffs. Dean’s eyes bulged.
“You were planning this???”
Sam sat back, admiring his handiwork. Dean was pissed off and flushed. A particularly sexy combination. Sam leaned in and licked a line from Dean’s brow to chin. Oh he tasted good too.
"I don’t think you were listening to me earlier, Dean. I said I saw you. In the bathroom."
Dean did still at at. He looked at his brother warily. And Sam took this chance to unbutton Dean’s shirt, pushing it back.
"I wonder what it is that makes you so special Dean?"
"I like to think it's my perky nipples."
Dean cursed himself. Was he really in a position to be pushing any of Sam's buttons. "Ah... just a joke Sammy. Now let me the fuck out of here!"
Sam ignored Dean while he fought with the cuffs. “They really are beautiful nipples Dean. I wonder what they taste like?” and Sam’s mouth was down, claiming one with his mouth, squeezing the other firmly. He lathed his tongue over and over, feeling it harden in his mouth. When it had pebbled beneath his tongue, he Bit. Hard. Dean cried out, and Sam lifted his head. “They taste good Dean. You taste good.” Sam took in Dean’s face – now even more flushed. The way his breath caught and his eyes flared. “Oh. You like it rough.” Sam nuzzled at Dean’s chest once more. “That’s good. So do I.”
Dean lay as still as he could. He figured if he could get Sammy to calm down (although he seemed to be calmly biting his fucking nipples), they could discuss this, Dean would be released and then it would never be spoken of again. Ever. Dean waited until Sam’s mouth had gentled further, and he was just licking Dean’s abused nipples.
“Mmmmmmm. You taste good Dean. And it seems to feel good too.” He nipped again as the little nubs hardened further, nuzzling at Dean’s gasp. Stupid perky nipples, Dean thought to himself. But Sam was sounding maybe more like he would listen to Dean.
“Sammy?” he asked tentatively. “Do you think you could let me out of the cuffs?”
Sam pulled back from Dean’s body, and looked down seriously at his brother. “If I let you out, do you think you can be a good little boy? Will do as you are told?”
Dean’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck, Sam?! What the fuck?” He started pulling at his cuffs again, thrashing around on the bed, bucking up to dislodge his (fucking huge – when did Sam get so big??) brother. “If you think I am going to lie here listen, and just let you… do whatever the fuck you are doing? Sam – Get. Off. Me.”
Dean punctuated each word by bucking his hips up, attempting to move the immovable object currently sprawled across his body. Sam shook his head sadly. “That’s what I thought. If you can’t be good, then the cuffs stay on.”
Dean just gaped at Sam. “Sam? What’s gotten into you? What’s going on?”
Sam just ignored Dean, and went back to nuzzling his nipples once more before moving lower. Ignoring the squirming man beneath him, Sam laid open mouthed kisses down Dean’s chest. “So soft baby”, Sam whispered against Dean’s skin. “So soft and so sweet. You like this.”
There was obviously only one reason this was happening. “Christo!”
Sam chuckled. “Sorry Dean. Not possessed. This is all me doing this”. And Sam bit down - hard - before continuing his journey down Dean’s body. He moved with excruciating slowness, mainly leaving soft, wet, open mouthed kisses, tasting all that he could. But sometimes he changed it. Nipping here. Chewing there. And fucking gnawing. Although he Sam never broke the skin, Dean could feel blood rushing to the surface, and knew he would be covered with marks and bruises.
Dean hissed and tensed. “Please, Sam. Please! Can’t you… could you stop? Please?” The words came out much whinier than he intended.
Sam paused at Dean’s belly button. “I’m not going to stop Dean. Things are changing. When you can… man up… well, then we can discuss how things will be. But until then…” Sam’s words trailed off, and Dean felt hands grab his hips, holding him still as fingers pressed hard enough to leave bruises. He felt hot breath on his belly button, before Sam’s tongue snaked in. And again. And again. The bastard was effectively tongue fucking his belly button! He wriggled again, against the duel restraints of the cuffs and Sam’s hands.
“Sam! What? Please… that doesn’t feel good.” And ‘man up’ what did that even mean?
Sam kept moving, kissing and nipping at Deans belly until he got to the top of Dean’s jeans. It hadn’t seemed possible, but Dean tensed even more.
“Sammy. Stop it. Now.” Dean’s voice was deadly serious.
“What should I be stop, Dean? And why should I stop? Something wrong, hmmmm?” Sam responded, his hands releasing Dean’s hips and coming to play at the button of his jeans.
Dean felt panic race through him, and his bucking started again. “I don’t know what game you are playing Sammy, but fine. You win. You win, ok? I’ll buy you dinner. You can choose the movie. Hell, you can drive the Impala. But this stops now Sam. Undo me.”
A poor choice of words under the circumstances. Sam readily agreed with his brother. “Sure, I’ll undo you, Dean.” And his hands went straight for the button.
“The cuffs Gigantor! The cuffs! Undo the freaking-"
Dean’s words were cut off as adrenalin raced through him. He bucked and twisted, but, tied as he was, was no match for Sam, whose entire weight was resting on Dean’s legs. The button was undone, the zip down, and it was like slow motion, the way the Sam’s fingers hooked under his boxers, catching the jeans in their wake.
Dean felt the pressure of the boxers carding through his pubic hair, and then further, until he was fully exposed.
He felt Sam’s breather on his cock, and the words floated up. ‘Well. What do you have here, little boy?’
Dean stilled, wishing himself away. This was the moment he had feared since the witch cursed him. Actually, it was worse than he had imagined. Some nameless woman he would never see again? A one night stand, which might end in mocking laughter? That was one thing. A fleeting humiliation. But this?
“Oh, Dean.”
This was Dean exposed to his brother in the most intimate way imaginable. Stripped and spread. Bared completed and utterly. His cursed cock right in his brother’s face.
“It’s so cute, Dean.”
Sam’s hands were on Dean’s thighs, keeping them spread. He could feel Sam’s gaze, but tried to ignore it. For fuck’s sake, why would he have expected this? His brother spreading his legs, staring at his crotch. Never in his worst nightmares had he imagined he would be cuffed to the fucking bed, while his brother stripped him, exposed him, humiliated him.
His mind frantically tried to think of someone - anyone - this experience would be worse with. Christ, he tried to think of something, anything that would make this worse. Drawing a blank, he pulled at the cuffs in frustration. Son of a bitch! If only Sam would back off instead of - Fuck. Instead of sticking his face in Dean’s private Hell. Dean felt Sam’s breath ghost along his cock, warm and damp. Although Dean tensed, not knowing what his brother would do, however the hot, wet feel of Sam’s tongue lathing his cock was completely unwelcome, if not completely unexpected. Sam was surprisingly relaxed, licking a few more times, before nuzzling his nose against Dean’s pubic hair.
“It’s so darling, Dean.”
And it wasn’t like Dean had ever imagined Sam sticking his face in his crotch. He had worked incredibly hard on not swinging that way. But if he had? Sam would have been reverent. Worshipping at the altar of Dean’s Cock.
“So sweet.”
Not this, whatever this was. What was Sam even trying to do? Rather than try and figure out the puzzle that was his brother, Dean struggled to block out the sound of Sam’s voice, the feel of Sam’s fingers rubbing gently over his balls, Sam’s lips and mouth nibbling and licking and tasting and – oh!
“Sammy, please stop!”
Dean had always had a pretty face. And a pretty body too, really. It had attracted men for as long as he could remember, and women since he had filled out a bit. While he might have flirted with idea of men, the hard line homophobic attitudes of the hunters around him had him closing that door and hard and fast. Dean had always been good at ignoring things he didn’t want to deal with, so he had donned the trappings of the ultimate Alpha Male as early as he could, hiding himself behind layers of flannel, steel capped boots, macho hair and the macho attitude to go with it. But the thing which really formed the basis of his perceived masculinity, was his cock. Real men had Real Cocks.
“Just like a baby.”
Dean could ignore his prettiness. He could subvert some of his softer (and dare he say it, feminine) attributes under layers of costume and subterfuge, bristling and snarling like his life depended on it. But it was his cock that cemented his place as a man.
Dean had been a man with a cock. And so Dean spent many hours – days – weeks – perfecting its use. And he let everyone know. Perhaps even pointing out to younger, smaller Sammy that Sam was somewhat lacking. “Little cock for a little boy, Sammy. You aren’t a man til you have a man sized cock.” But that hadn’t mattered, really. Sam would find his own way, just as Dean had found his. What had matter was that Dean was a Man.
“My baby.”
And then a fucking witch had changed all that.
He went from being a man to some overgrown child, with a tint, useless little cock, with equally tiny balls. He was effectively castrated – his masculine self-worth shrinking as surely and rapidly as his cock.
Sam’s fingers firmed on Dean’s balls, unfortunately shaking Dean out of his mental nightmare into his living nightmare.
“I would have thought my baby would be all smooth down here. But I like you like this. You smell,” and Sam pressed his nose into Dean’s hair again, breathing in deeply, “So good. You smell all man here, but if I just dip a little lower” and Sam started nuzzling at his balls. “Oh baby, they are so soft and smooth! High and tight - all little boy. It just makes me want to taste every part of you. A little treat I might give myself later.”
And he smiled at Dean. “And it is little. Your little cock is, I think, smaller than my tongue. Such a tiny thing.” For a moment Sam’s fingers were back, playing with him, rolling his little balls between two fingers, a fingertip running the length of his cock. “I think I can suck it all – your cock and your balls, Dean. No need to wait. It’s like daddy needs to hold back when it’s his little boy.”
Sam suited actions to words, sucking in Dean’s tiny cock and balls. Sam rolled them in his mouth, smiling around his little mouthful.
Dean moaned – he knew already that his little cock couldn’t get hard. Christ, he had been trying since that witch first cursed him, hoping that if he came it break the spell – but Sam’s hot mouth still felt good.
Sam pulled back. “Not even a mouthful. And it doesn’t get hard?” Sam’s hand was back, tapping the useless little cock, weighing it in his hands, before once again squeezing at his balls. He just kept repeating the light touches, seemingly fascinated by Dean’s miniature genetalia. “What was it you said to me, when you were a young man? ‘You’re not a man unless you have a man sized cock?’”
Sam lapped at the little balls. Then sat up a little, looking Dean right in the eyes, then asked him seriously “So, what does that make you now then, Dean? With your useless, little boy cock? What does that make you now?”
part 2 part 3
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fandom: Supernatural
Kinks: humilation, daddy kink, spanking, bottom Dean
Summary: Dean has been hit by a curse which has changed him in a way that hits him right where it hurts. Sam is there to take advantage of it - this was the role that Dean was meant to play.
part 2 part 3
It should have been a typical salt and burn. But they never were. Not when witches were involved.
“I fucking hate witches,” Dean told Sam, as they ducked from yet another spell. “They are nasty pieces of work.” Which when you think about it was bad timing, as the witch appeared in front of Dean at that moment. Although he stuck in the knife in (and enjoyed it, he was man enough to admit it), she still had the juice for one last spell. Dean felt a slight tingle in his cock and balls, but didn't think much else of it. He was always getting tingles here and there. Much better than things getting cut off. Or bleeding out. Or Hell. A slight tingle he could deal with.
At least he thought so.
“What the ever loving fuck???”
Deans shout brought Sam running to the bathroom.
“Dean? What happened? Are you Ok?”
Dean had been standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror, just staring, but he quickly turned grabbing a towel and thrusting it in front of him. “Get out Sam. Just get out. I’m fine. I’m fucking fine.”
Sam had backed away obediently. But not before he got a look at Dean’s crotch.
And that had been worth seeing.
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“Where are you off to?”
Dean was dressed for a night out. It was only 8 o’clock, but he had been edgy all night. Twitching on the bed, walking in and out of the bathroom, pacing the room. Eventually he had taken himself back to the bathroom, only to emerge in the jeans which showcased his oh so fuckable ass, and a shirt that was tight in all the right places. Sam could admit Dean looked hot. And if Sam had his way, which he fully intended to, he wouldn't just be looking.
Tilting his head, he stared at Dean. Now that he thought about it, Dean was looking a little different. A little more butch than usual? Sam grinned to himself. It always felt like Dean was trying just a bit too hard to prove his masculinity. It never stopped him looking like he should be pushed down while someone (Sam?) shoved a hard cock in his ass, but Dean had been vocal (and active) in pursuing his heterosexuality. And today, more than ever, Dean would be feeling that his masculinity was in danger. Oh, and he had a great reason.
“Looking very manly Dean.”
Dean shot Sam a look.
“Heading out for any reason in particular?”
“Do I need a reason, Sammy?” Dean spat. Oh yes, Dean was definitely feeling on edge.
Sam allowed a little of his satisfaction to bleed through. “Of course not Dean. Have fun. Be back by 11 please. We have some things to talk about.”
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Dean sat at the bar, trying to sort through his feelings. Ugh, it made him feel sick, talking like that even to himself. Sam was the one big on the chick flick moments. Dean was the one who was all action, not talk talk talk. Or thoughts. Or feelings. Oh fucking hell, he was screwed. He allowed himself to wallow for a moment. His life sucked. It totally sucked. He didn't want to talk to Sam – Sam would probably laugh. But who else would know how to deal with a curse from a dead witch.
Dean sipped his beer. Here he was all by himself. No one to help. No one to go to. All alone, with no one here beside him. Although... A name crossed his mind, and he grabbed his phone, cursing himself. What was wrong with him? The witches’ curse shouldn't have affected his head. He quickly dialed Bobby’s number.
“What’s up, boy. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“Ah, not much, Bobby. Just finished a hunt and things went a little... well, they didn't go according to plan.”
Dean could hear Bobby take a deep breath. ‘Not according to plan’ tended to mean 'really fucking terrible'.
“What sort of not according to plan?”
“I got cursed Bobby. It isn't life threatening, but the witch who cast it is dead and gone. Is there any way to maybe... reverse a curse?”
For a few moments all Dean heard was silence. “Dean, generally you need the witch who cast it to reverse it. Or at least to have something of the witch to make a counter spell. You boys are far too sensible to leave bits of unashed witch.”
Dean responded to the question in Bobby’s voice. “She’s gone, Bobby. Salted and burned. So, no other way? None at all?”
Bobby's voice grew worried. “I'll look into it Dean, but I don’t think so. Have you asked Sam?”
“Woahoahoah – no. No. No. No. This is not something I want to talk to Sam about. And anyway, you're the best researcher we have Bobby! If you can’t help, then there is no way that Sam can.”
There was a disbelieving pause on the other end of the phone. “By 'not wanting to ask Sam about it', does that mean 'not mentioned at all?'”
“Guilty as charged, Bobby. I’ll be fine. It doesn't affect anything. But if you hear anything, just let me know, Ok?”
He heard Bobby sigh. “I think you’re a damn idjit boy. But I will look into it.”
“Thanks Bobby. You’re a lifesaver.”
Dean drained his beer, then glanced at the clock. It was almost 11, so he should head back. Standing up, Dean grabbed his phone then paused. What the fuck? Since when did he run home just because Sam said? Shaking his head, Dean sat back down and then raised his hand for another drink. Dean Winchester didn't go home before 11. And certainly not sober. Hopefully if he stayed out late Sam would be asleep before he got back.
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Unfortunately Sam was still up when Dean staggered in as quietly as he could at 3am.
He was seated on his bed, staring at the laptop, but he looked up as Dean came in. He then closed the top, put it to the side, and just stared at Dean.
"Uhh... Porn, Sammy? Don’t let me stop you. Good to see my baby boy all grown up."
This was obviously the wrong thing to say, because instead of the normal blushes and stammering, Dean received a smoldering look.
"Didn't I say be home at 11, Dean?"
Deciding to ignore it, Dean headed to the bathroom. "You should have seen the girls out tonight. Wooboy, Sammy! There were some sweet ones. Ones to suit even your college boy tastes."
“I had a call from Bobby.”
Dean cursed Bobby seven ways to Sunday in his head. He should have asked Bobby not to call Sam. Why hadn't he learnt that one yet? “Oh yeah? What’d he have to say?”
“Just that you called. Had a little curse problem.” Sam raised his voice at this point. “Were you going to tell me at any point, Dean? That you got cursed? Today?!”
Dean walked back into the bedroom and gave Sam his most long suffering look. “It doesn't affect anything, Sammy. It doesn't change how we hunt, or anything. And Bobby couldn't help anyway.”
“Why? What else did he say?”
“Just that with the witch salted and burned there was probably no way to reverse it.” Dean fell silent, bemoaning his fate again. It was a damn clever curse – it didn't really hurt him, but it hit him where he hurt most. It just wasn't fair.
He didn't notice Sam move until Sam's chin was resting on his shoulder, and his arms were around his waist.
“Fuck, Sammy! What are you doing? I’m fine and you don’t need to hug me!”
“So, what’s the curse then?”
Dean’s body stiffened and he tried to pull away. Sam just tightened his arms, not allowing Dean any escape.
“It doesn't matter Sam. I've assessed it, and it doesn't affect the hunt. It doesn't affect us. So don't worry about it. Is that your cock sticking into my ass???”
Dean struggled again. Because yes, it was Sam's rather large and rather hard cock pressed right up against Dean’s ass.
“It is Dean. But it isn't sticking in your ass. Not yet anyway. Do you know what I saw today Dean? When I went into the bathroom? I saw you."
Dean saw no reason to respond to this, fighting as he was to get out of his brother's arms. He knew he could take his little brother in a fair fight, but he was starting from behind. He jerked and twisted, all to no avail. All that happened was Sam seemed to get harder.
“Fuck” he muttered under his breath.
“Oh I think so Dean. And I think you will be thanking me for it.”
With that Dean was suddenly loose, but Sam was already behind him, crowding him and pushing him onto the bed. He fell flat on his back, and went to roll away, but Sam was already there, pushing his arms up, and securing his wrists to the headboard with some conveniently placed cuffs. Dean’s eyes bulged.
“You were planning this???”
Sam sat back, admiring his handiwork. Dean was pissed off and flushed. A particularly sexy combination. Sam leaned in and licked a line from Dean’s brow to chin. Oh he tasted good too.
"I don’t think you were listening to me earlier, Dean. I said I saw you. In the bathroom."
Dean did still at at. He looked at his brother warily. And Sam took this chance to unbutton Dean’s shirt, pushing it back.
"I wonder what it is that makes you so special Dean?"
"I like to think it's my perky nipples."
Dean cursed himself. Was he really in a position to be pushing any of Sam's buttons. "Ah... just a joke Sammy. Now let me the fuck out of here!"
Sam ignored Dean while he fought with the cuffs. “They really are beautiful nipples Dean. I wonder what they taste like?” and Sam’s mouth was down, claiming one with his mouth, squeezing the other firmly. He lathed his tongue over and over, feeling it harden in his mouth. When it had pebbled beneath his tongue, he Bit. Hard. Dean cried out, and Sam lifted his head. “They taste good Dean. You taste good.” Sam took in Dean’s face – now even more flushed. The way his breath caught and his eyes flared. “Oh. You like it rough.” Sam nuzzled at Dean’s chest once more. “That’s good. So do I.”
Dean lay as still as he could. He figured if he could get Sammy to calm down (although he seemed to be calmly biting his fucking nipples), they could discuss this, Dean would be released and then it would never be spoken of again. Ever. Dean waited until Sam’s mouth had gentled further, and he was just licking Dean’s abused nipples.
“Mmmmmmm. You taste good Dean. And it seems to feel good too.” He nipped again as the little nubs hardened further, nuzzling at Dean’s gasp. Stupid perky nipples, Dean thought to himself. But Sam was sounding maybe more like he would listen to Dean.
“Sammy?” he asked tentatively. “Do you think you could let me out of the cuffs?”
Sam pulled back from Dean’s body, and looked down seriously at his brother. “If I let you out, do you think you can be a good little boy? Will do as you are told?”
Dean’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck, Sam?! What the fuck?” He started pulling at his cuffs again, thrashing around on the bed, bucking up to dislodge his (fucking huge – when did Sam get so big??) brother. “If you think I am going to lie here listen, and just let you… do whatever the fuck you are doing? Sam – Get. Off. Me.”
Dean punctuated each word by bucking his hips up, attempting to move the immovable object currently sprawled across his body. Sam shook his head sadly. “That’s what I thought. If you can’t be good, then the cuffs stay on.”
Dean just gaped at Sam. “Sam? What’s gotten into you? What’s going on?”
Sam just ignored Dean, and went back to nuzzling his nipples once more before moving lower. Ignoring the squirming man beneath him, Sam laid open mouthed kisses down Dean’s chest. “So soft baby”, Sam whispered against Dean’s skin. “So soft and so sweet. You like this.”
There was obviously only one reason this was happening. “Christo!”
Sam chuckled. “Sorry Dean. Not possessed. This is all me doing this”. And Sam bit down - hard - before continuing his journey down Dean’s body. He moved with excruciating slowness, mainly leaving soft, wet, open mouthed kisses, tasting all that he could. But sometimes he changed it. Nipping here. Chewing there. And fucking gnawing. Although he Sam never broke the skin, Dean could feel blood rushing to the surface, and knew he would be covered with marks and bruises.
Dean hissed and tensed. “Please, Sam. Please! Can’t you… could you stop? Please?” The words came out much whinier than he intended.
Sam paused at Dean’s belly button. “I’m not going to stop Dean. Things are changing. When you can… man up… well, then we can discuss how things will be. But until then…” Sam’s words trailed off, and Dean felt hands grab his hips, holding him still as fingers pressed hard enough to leave bruises. He felt hot breath on his belly button, before Sam’s tongue snaked in. And again. And again. The bastard was effectively tongue fucking his belly button! He wriggled again, against the duel restraints of the cuffs and Sam’s hands.
“Sam! What? Please… that doesn’t feel good.” And ‘man up’ what did that even mean?
Sam kept moving, kissing and nipping at Deans belly until he got to the top of Dean’s jeans. It hadn’t seemed possible, but Dean tensed even more.
“Sammy. Stop it. Now.” Dean’s voice was deadly serious.
“What should I be stop, Dean? And why should I stop? Something wrong, hmmmm?” Sam responded, his hands releasing Dean’s hips and coming to play at the button of his jeans.
Dean felt panic race through him, and his bucking started again. “I don’t know what game you are playing Sammy, but fine. You win. You win, ok? I’ll buy you dinner. You can choose the movie. Hell, you can drive the Impala. But this stops now Sam. Undo me.”
A poor choice of words under the circumstances. Sam readily agreed with his brother. “Sure, I’ll undo you, Dean.” And his hands went straight for the button.
“The cuffs Gigantor! The cuffs! Undo the freaking-"
Dean’s words were cut off as adrenalin raced through him. He bucked and twisted, but, tied as he was, was no match for Sam, whose entire weight was resting on Dean’s legs. The button was undone, the zip down, and it was like slow motion, the way the Sam’s fingers hooked under his boxers, catching the jeans in their wake.
Dean felt the pressure of the boxers carding through his pubic hair, and then further, until he was fully exposed.
He felt Sam’s breather on his cock, and the words floated up. ‘Well. What do you have here, little boy?’
Dean stilled, wishing himself away. This was the moment he had feared since the witch cursed him. Actually, it was worse than he had imagined. Some nameless woman he would never see again? A one night stand, which might end in mocking laughter? That was one thing. A fleeting humiliation. But this?
“Oh, Dean.”
This was Dean exposed to his brother in the most intimate way imaginable. Stripped and spread. Bared completed and utterly. His cursed cock right in his brother’s face.
“It’s so cute, Dean.”
Sam’s hands were on Dean’s thighs, keeping them spread. He could feel Sam’s gaze, but tried to ignore it. For fuck’s sake, why would he have expected this? His brother spreading his legs, staring at his crotch. Never in his worst nightmares had he imagined he would be cuffed to the fucking bed, while his brother stripped him, exposed him, humiliated him.
His mind frantically tried to think of someone - anyone - this experience would be worse with. Christ, he tried to think of something, anything that would make this worse. Drawing a blank, he pulled at the cuffs in frustration. Son of a bitch! If only Sam would back off instead of - Fuck. Instead of sticking his face in Dean’s private Hell. Dean felt Sam’s breath ghost along his cock, warm and damp. Although Dean tensed, not knowing what his brother would do, however the hot, wet feel of Sam’s tongue lathing his cock was completely unwelcome, if not completely unexpected. Sam was surprisingly relaxed, licking a few more times, before nuzzling his nose against Dean’s pubic hair.
“It’s so darling, Dean.”
And it wasn’t like Dean had ever imagined Sam sticking his face in his crotch. He had worked incredibly hard on not swinging that way. But if he had? Sam would have been reverent. Worshipping at the altar of Dean’s Cock.
“So sweet.”
Not this, whatever this was. What was Sam even trying to do? Rather than try and figure out the puzzle that was his brother, Dean struggled to block out the sound of Sam’s voice, the feel of Sam’s fingers rubbing gently over his balls, Sam’s lips and mouth nibbling and licking and tasting and – oh!
“Sammy, please stop!”
Dean had always had a pretty face. And a pretty body too, really. It had attracted men for as long as he could remember, and women since he had filled out a bit. While he might have flirted with idea of men, the hard line homophobic attitudes of the hunters around him had him closing that door and hard and fast. Dean had always been good at ignoring things he didn’t want to deal with, so he had donned the trappings of the ultimate Alpha Male as early as he could, hiding himself behind layers of flannel, steel capped boots, macho hair and the macho attitude to go with it. But the thing which really formed the basis of his perceived masculinity, was his cock. Real men had Real Cocks.
“Just like a baby.”
Dean could ignore his prettiness. He could subvert some of his softer (and dare he say it, feminine) attributes under layers of costume and subterfuge, bristling and snarling like his life depended on it. But it was his cock that cemented his place as a man.
Dean had been a man with a cock. And so Dean spent many hours – days – weeks – perfecting its use. And he let everyone know. Perhaps even pointing out to younger, smaller Sammy that Sam was somewhat lacking. “Little cock for a little boy, Sammy. You aren’t a man til you have a man sized cock.” But that hadn’t mattered, really. Sam would find his own way, just as Dean had found his. What had matter was that Dean was a Man.
“My baby.”
And then a fucking witch had changed all that.
He went from being a man to some overgrown child, with a tint, useless little cock, with equally tiny balls. He was effectively castrated – his masculine self-worth shrinking as surely and rapidly as his cock.
Sam’s fingers firmed on Dean’s balls, unfortunately shaking Dean out of his mental nightmare into his living nightmare.
“I would have thought my baby would be all smooth down here. But I like you like this. You smell,” and Sam pressed his nose into Dean’s hair again, breathing in deeply, “So good. You smell all man here, but if I just dip a little lower” and Sam started nuzzling at his balls. “Oh baby, they are so soft and smooth! High and tight - all little boy. It just makes me want to taste every part of you. A little treat I might give myself later.”
And he smiled at Dean. “And it is little. Your little cock is, I think, smaller than my tongue. Such a tiny thing.” For a moment Sam’s fingers were back, playing with him, rolling his little balls between two fingers, a fingertip running the length of his cock. “I think I can suck it all – your cock and your balls, Dean. No need to wait. It’s like daddy needs to hold back when it’s his little boy.”
Sam suited actions to words, sucking in Dean’s tiny cock and balls. Sam rolled them in his mouth, smiling around his little mouthful.
Dean moaned – he knew already that his little cock couldn’t get hard. Christ, he had been trying since that witch first cursed him, hoping that if he came it break the spell – but Sam’s hot mouth still felt good.
Sam pulled back. “Not even a mouthful. And it doesn’t get hard?” Sam’s hand was back, tapping the useless little cock, weighing it in his hands, before once again squeezing at his balls. He just kept repeating the light touches, seemingly fascinated by Dean’s miniature genetalia. “What was it you said to me, when you were a young man? ‘You’re not a man unless you have a man sized cock?’”
Sam lapped at the little balls. Then sat up a little, looking Dean right in the eyes, then asked him seriously “So, what does that make you now then, Dean? With your useless, little boy cock? What does that make you now?”
part 2 part 3
