Burning

Burning from the inside, part two

I was twelve when I first figured out that the way I look was another kind of weapon. When I first realised that the right smile and a little flirting could get us a better room or a few extras with our meals. That bending over at just the right time, maybe wriggling my ass a bit, made certain men willing to give me anything I wanted.


I was thirteen, when I realised my dad was hot. I heard some waitress in a greasy spoon talking about him. Telling her friend how cute it was; the way he looked after me and Sammy. How sad it was that he was raising us alone, and how she’d be more than willing to take us on; if it meant she got him in her bed. So when I went back to the table I stared at him, trying to figure out what the hell she’d meant. Then he turned his head just a little, and looked right in my eyes, probably trying to figure out what the hell was up with me. Just like that my world changed; I looked and saw a man I wanted, instead of a father, I saw a potential lover.


I guess most people would have about died to feel that way about the man who’d fathered them, but lets face it, normal isn’t ever going to be a word we use to describe our lives. I’d fall asleep each night and dream of him, his hands on my body and his voice whispering in my ear. At first I thought it could only be a fantasy, I mean I might be a twisted little freak, but there was no way he could feel the same. But sometimes I’d catch him looking at me, his gaze lingering a little too long; and one day I recognised the look in his eyes, the hunger. He felt the same way I did, and that was all the invitation I needed.


Of course it wasn’t that easy, the first time I kissed him he freaked. Tried to beat the idea right out of me. Trouble was the feeling of hard leather on my skin turned me on, instead of warning me off. He ran then, disappeared for two weeks straight and when he came back he was a different man.


He held himself apart from me, making sure I never had a chance to be alone with him. It was fucking torture, but I’m nothing if not stubborn. I pushed his buttons at every turn, disobeyed orders and defied him to his face. When that didn’t get me what I wanted, I took to going out, rolling back in the small hours, stinking of cigarettes, alcohol and sex. I’d make sure he’d be faced with the marks on my body, the bites and welts and scratches left behind by my parade of faceless fucks. It never worked, no matter how affected he was, or how jealous he became, he still wouldn’t give in.


At eighteen I’d had enough, for the first time I really thought I might have been wrong about him. And I just couldn’t take it any more, seeing him every day and not being able to have him. I was driving us all insane, so I figured it’d be better on everyone if I just went away.


The second the words left my mouth, it was like he crumbled, and then his arms were around me and his lips were pressed against mine. He promised me the moon that night, promised to love me and keep me, then took me to his bed and made my every fantasy come true.


I can feel him spooned up behind me; my lover, my father, my daddy. His breath hot on my neck, the deep rumbling of his snores vibrating through my body. His grip so tight around me, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish on him if he doesn’t hold on tight. Not that I’d ever be the one to walk away, I worked too damn hard to get here to ever think about giving this up.


Sometimes I still have a hard time believing that I can really have this, have him. He ran from me so long, hurt me so badly, that I sometimes worry that’ll all be taken from me. That he’ll wake up one day and decide that what we have is wrong.


Don’t think this’ll be the day though, not sure either of us will be up to going anywhere. Last night was incredible even by our standards, don’t know what exactly set him off, but it was one hell of a ride.


Started when we got back from the hunt; it’d been an easy enough kill, thing only managed to get in one good swipe of it’s claws before a barrel full of rock salt blew it all the way back to hell. On the way back to the motel I could feel his eyes on me, glued to the spot on my neck where the claws had left a bloody welt.


I expected yelling when we finally stopped, the patented John Winchester lecture on not being fast enough or strong enough. Sharing his bed doesn’t make him any easier on me when it comes to the job. He just cleaned me up, not talking at all, was damn unnerving and I began to think I must really have pissed him off. An angry John is hotter than hell, but there’s always been a limit to how far I can push him without getting burned.


We don’t always need the games; some nights it’s enough to just be together. To fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms and wake to the feeling of the other’s body moving lazily against your own. But sometimes I need more, it’s like I feel myself burning up inside. Always reaching out for something I can’t quite touch. It aches and twists and burns; makes my temper short and my tongue quick.


I spit and push at him, acting every bit the pissy bitch I used to accuse Sam of being. He always seems to know just how much I can take, drags it out ‘til I’m sure that I’m gonna break, before giving me what I need, what we both want. Then he slams me back into place, puts me on my knees like a good little boy. Makes me beg and plead for my daddy, makes me fall apart before he puts me back together.


It’d been building for days, my need and his temper. So I guess that getting myself hurt was the final straw, though I sure as hell hadn’t expected what came next. He all but shoved me into the bathroom, and when I came back in, he was dressed to go out. Tight jeans and a black shirt clinging to the hard lines of his body, made my breath catch in my throat and my cock start to rise. He’s forever telling me that I’m beautiful, but the truth is I’m nothing compared to him. He barely looked at me, just tossed a pair of sinfully tight jeans my way and told me to get ready.


A night on the town wasn’t really what I’d had in mind, so I was sullen and fractious all through the drive into town. I couldn’t read him at all, and when we finally parked, I was surprised when he drew me into his arms and pressed an almost chaste kiss to my lips.


He pulled me out of the car, and I followed him down an alley; ‘til we came to an unlit doorway. He knocked and I found myself drawn into an anteroom of some kind. From the outside, it’d looked seedy and abandoned, but here there were bright lights and plush furnishings. When he told me to lose my shirt, I just stared for a second; finally figuring out where he’d brought me.


Oh he’d teased me with the idea before, threatened to parade me through a club so everyone could see what a slut I was for him. I’d just never thought he’d actually make good on the threat. So there I was, standing barefoot and shirtless; wondering what the hell I’d let myself in for this time.


He moved behind me, and I could hear him murmuring against my throat; his voice that low purring growl that always hits me right in the cock. “So beautiful…. Going to fall for me baby boy….gonna show them all you’re mine.” Then he was reaching round me and I felt soft leather tighten round my throat. I went from half hard to aching in a split second, he’d put a fucking collar on me, and it felt so fucking right.


Then he clipped a leash to the collar, wrapped the length of leather in his fist and gave it a quick tug. Made me stumble forward, following him into the main part of the club. My eyes darted everywhere, I saw leather clad Doms and naked subs. Whipping posts and cages, stages set up for play, some occupied, some just waiting to be used. I’m no innocent, haven’t been for a long time, but it was almost too much, I got the feeling I was way out of my depth. The sharp tug on my leash had me falling against his body, and his arms were there; holding me while I got myself together. When he moved us too a quiet booth, I relaxed a little and allowed him to push me to my knees.


The collar was just tight enough, that I felt it with every breath, the soft edge rubbing against the welt on my neck. From my position leaning against his legs I couldn’t see him; but that didn’t matter, the constant tension of my leash let me know he was there. I took the time to get a better look at the other people, most were done up in fancy costumes, leather and chains decorating their bodies. But a few were like us, just dressed in simple street clothes and somehow they looked more real. Like the others were just playing dress up, pretending to be something they weren’t in their everyday lives.


Strong fingers twisted sharp in my hair and I realised that I’d been so distracted he’d asked me something and I hadn’t heard him. “Asked you if you were gonna behave boy.”


“Yes daddy.” The words were compliant, but I knew my voice held a sarcastic edge he wouldn’t ignore.


I thought he’d drag it out, threaten and tease, before dragging me home to make me pay. Instead he hauled me up by my collar and before I knew it, he had my pants pulled down to my knees and my body bent me over his lap. One hand pressed heavily into my back, holding me down, whilst the other stroked my bare ass.


I couldn’t quite believe he’d done it, not there in the club. I was grateful that my head was buried out of sight in the soft cushions of the couch; ‘cos I just knew I was blushing like some freaking girl. “Gonna have to teach you some manners. Make sure you know to listen to your daddy when he talks to you.” I felt my cock twitch at his words, I may have been embarrassed about being so exposed, but apparently my libido liked it just fine. Before I could get any relief, he shifted just a little, trapping my cock between his thighs and I groaned as I realised I wasn’t going to be getting off any time soon.


That just made him laugh, and I felt the sound vibrate through my body, turning me on even more. Then the first slap landed and I stopped caring about anything but the feel of his hand. It’s not the most painful thing he’s done to me; I’ve worn welts from canes and straps that have hurt so much more. But there’s something about getting spanked, being bare-assed over his lap, bare skin to bare skin, that just seems dirtier than anything else we do.


Being there in the club, knowing people were watching us, listening to us; just made the whole thing so much more intense. Knowing that they thought the words we used were just another kink, like the games they played. “Daddy please……need you daddy…….sorry daddy….i’ll do better…..sorry daddy…..so sorry…” The words spilled from my lips, as the fire began to spread through my ass. I could feel the calluses in his hand, rubbing against my sensitised skin, helping drive me higher and higher.


“Don’t believe you yet……gonna have to convince me little slut….can you do that?…..Make daddy believe you’re really sorry?” His hand had to have hurt almost as much as my ass, but he was relentless, smack after smack making me struggle against him, until finally I felt tears start to flood my eyes as I finally broke.


He knew, just like he always seems to know when I’ve had enough, and his hand stilled, rubbing gentle circles of the flesh he’d coloured. His words softer now, but no less possessive. “My beautiful boy….so good for his daddy…..so beautiful…..could keep you like this all the time….would you like that baby?….Be my slut all the time?”


I’m not sure how far he would have gone in the club, or what he had planned but right then a strange voice cut into our private world. All I could see of him was heavy boots and leather pants hung with a whole mess of chains, so I pegged him for one of the poseurs; and boy was I right. “He’s a pretty thing. Is his mouth as talented as it looks?”


The drawled words were swiftly followed by a hand reaching down towards my ass, and I instinctively flinched away from the touch. We might not have played at clubs before but I knew enough about the scene to know that you weren’t supposed to touch without permission. I needn’t have worried ‘cos dad was already moving.


He surged to his feet, I don’t think he even noticed that he’d dumped me on the floor, and had the guy up against the wall with a knife at his throat. No teasing in his voice now, just pure killing rage. “You don’t ever touch what’s mine.” I struggled to my feet, trying to pull up my pants, terrified that he’d go too far. I could already see a pair of muscled bouncers heading our way, and we couldn’t afford that kind of trouble.


Quickly as it started, it was over, knife hidden back in his jeans and he was hustling me towards the exit. We drove back here in silence, he looked so fucking wound up I didn’t dare push him. But when we got back here, he seemed to collapse in on himself, pulling me to him and I could feel him shake as he just held on.


He kissed me so softly and stripped us both down, moving us to the bed. He seemed to almost be worshipping my body, kissing every inch, his hands smoothing and caressing, tender where he was usually so rough. It was a sensual assault, and by the time he was done exploring I was a writhing mass of need. When he finally slipped inside me, I almost cried with relief.


Even then he was gentle, tiny thrusts; just rocking in and out. Drawing out our pleasure ‘til I thought I’d die of frustration, before letting go and coming deep inside me. Then a trembling hand reached down to stroke my cock, coaxing me into following him over the edge.


There were words mumbled against my skin, rambling apologies that made little sense. He seemed so lost and I couldn’t understand why, only knew that I wanted to make him feel better. Eventually he settled, drifting off into sleep. Only I’m too busy trying to figure things out to be able to rest myself.


The last few weeks he’s been getting more and more tense with each passing day. Calls have been coming in from other hunters, giving tips and hints that seem to set him worrying. I think maybe he’s finally got a lead on the demon. The fucking monster we’ve been searching for all this time.


Can’t think why he hasn’t told me, unless he’s trying to keep me safe. Doesn’t want to risk me dying at its hands the way Mom did. Damned if I’m gonna let him face this thing alone, there’s nothing could ever make me walk away from this fight. All his mutterings make a little more sense now, the way he’d apologised for treating me bad, for acting like he owned me.


Truth is, he does own me, heart and soul and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The thought of being without him fucking terrifies me; leaves me shivering and cold to the bone; I know that I wouldn’t survive without him. So I snuggle in a little closer, there’ll be time enough to talk in the morning. For now I’m just content to sleep wrapped in his arms. Nothing can touch us as long as we’re together.

tbc………