Father's Son

Out of His Control

His breath came in hard pants through his nose as he watched the large, muscular man roll from his little brother’s body. Wet tracks made their way from his broken green eyes, slipping down the tape to dampen the grey tee he wore. Dean Winchester had worn his wrists bruised and bloodied during the almost twenty minute assault trying to break the thick plastic strip holding him to the old register.

I’m sorry, Sammy; he thought, watching sobs begin to wrack his baby brother’s body. Pain stabbed and tore through his heart when Sam was rolled to face him and something was whispered hot into the terrified teen’s ear. Dean stiffened and locked eyes with his sibling and what was left of his heart broke; the look on Sam’s face was resigned and apologetic.

Sam closed his eyes and Dean once again pulled his bruised, bloody cuffed wrists against the stead fast zip tie keeping him bound in place. Damn it He cursed when the thick plastic didn’t budge. Break damnit!

How the fuck did this happen? He groused mentally, taking one last look at their attacker’s large form curled around Sam’s lean body, he laid his head atop his hands. Silent tears slipped from his eyes, as he prayed for their father to find them. Nothing less than death awaited the sonuvabitch wrapped around Sam.

Only the sound of traffic passing on the street outside the room greeted Dean Winchester’s ears, as his sobbing subsided. A light snore from their captor was the only sound in the small room. Sam had stopped crying. Dean refused to look at his baby brother naked, and tethered to a bed with their large captor wrapped around him; at least not until he was free and could throttle the sonuvabitch.

How’d we wind up here? He asked himself as his mind replayed the previous day.

Their dad had left the day before, a simple haunting in a near by town. Dean’d protested being left behind. John ordered him to stay- to rest. Despite their best precautions against the poltergeist they hunted in Hawkhollow, MN, Dean’d still managed to receive on hell of a beating. A nearly dislocated shoulder and a concussion were the worst he’d gotten from being tossed about the bedroom of the oldest daughter’s room. The injuries troubled the eldest Winchester more than he let either boy know. Their dad never had to tell him when something bothered him; Dean just seemed to know.

He’d gotten stir crazy and it was lunch time- and Sam was getting edgy after twelve hours and no word from John.

Dean took a deep breath as he stepped from the stale air of the motel room he and Sam’d been sharing for the last twenty-four hours.

Staring up and down the main drag of their current backwater home he hoped they were leaving soon as their dad returned- and for Sam’s safety he hoped that was soon. He didn’t want to hurt the kid, but if Sam woke him every hour on the hour again tonight…Dean refused to be held responsible for his actions.

“Sure you’re up for the walk?” Sam asked, pulling his older sibling from his musing.

“I’m fine, mom,” he retorted starting across the parking lot for the small dinner adjacent to their motel. “Thanks for asking.”

“Jackass,” the youngest Winchester chided under his breath as he pulled the door to their room closed.

“If you ask me one more time if I’m all right, I swear to God I’m going to cuff you to the bed and gag you so I can have some quiet,” Dean said, venomously as Sam jogged up to the edge of the street where he’d been waiting.

Bed springs squeaked and yanked Dean from the memory he’d caught himself up in. God, how could I have said that to him?! Dean scolded himself as he watched the man who’d raped his baby brother- and future murder victim- disentangled himself from Sam’s body. There’s no way you could have known, he reminded himself.

Another creak of springs and the man was off the bed. Dean watched in anger as the man moved toward where he sat tied to the register across from the bathroom.

Harsh white light broke the dark of the mostly red neon filled room momentarily before the large man closed the door with a loud click.

Sighing heavily Dean leaned his head down and started pealing away at the tape still covering his mouth. Listening to the muffled sounds coming from the bathroom, he worked the tape from his mouth. “Sam?” he whispered in a harsh hush. His brother’s lean form didn’t budge. Come one, Sammy. “Sam,” he tried again to the same result.

The bathroom door creaked and Dean’s portion of the small room was once again bathed in harsh white light. “He’s sleeping,” the man said, cutting the crisp white light coming from the bathroom off.

“You sonovabitch,” Dean spat, hoarsely at his little brother’s rapist. “He’s just a kid, you perverted freak.”

“That, Dean,” he said with a smile, stooping down to his captive’s level, “is exactly why I had to have him. He’s so young. An air of jadedness mixed with just enough wide eyed innocence...” he smiled, closing his eyes and running his tongue absently over his lips at the memory of the recent encounter with the teen still secured to the bed. “It’s intoxicating.”

“When I get loose, I’m going to kill you,” he promised, green eyes locked onto the man before him.

“Are you now?” Gerald grabbed a meaty fistful of the younger man’s short dark blond hair. “Come the morning your little brother’ll be mine. And you?” He pulled tighter on Dean’s hair, “you’ll be up for sale to the highest bidder.”

“Bastard,” Dean hissed at the older man, “you’re going to wish I’d kill you.”

“Hmmmmm,” Gerald purred, leaning in closer to Dean. “I could make you wish for death right now.” He pressed drying lips to the younger man’s face. “You wanna know why I chose Sam and not you?” the larger man said, suddenly pulling away- hands letting go of Dean’s hair.

Dean swallowed hard against the question. He’d thought of that every second the man before him had assaulted his baby brother. Sam was innocent to this man’s world. At seventeen his little brother had seen more horror than most people twice his age, but never once had he fallen into Dean’s routine of hook ups. Sam had stayed innocent to that. Dean had picked on him for it- what big brother wouldn’t- but he’d always almost admired him for that, and only under complete duress would he ever admit it.

At twenty-one there almost wasn’t anything Dean hadn’t done, both hunting wise and sexually. Except guys. That was just not his cup of tea. A girl in Charleston had tried to bring him back to her place, and he did go. He got as far as the front door when she let it slip that he was the third to the party. If it’d been her twin sister and not her boyfriend waiting at her apartment he wouldn’t have been so quick to leave.

“Think I have an idea.”

“He’s rare,” Gerald said with an odd smile. “He’s both hardened and still so delicate. I had to have that. To taste it, feel it.” He looked Dean over, eyes resting on the dark fabric of the boxer briefs contrasting the almost alabaster skin of the younger man’s thigh. “It was better than I’d imagined it would or could be.”

“You wanna touch me,” Dean locked eyes with the once again hungry older man, “don’t you?”

He could feel the vibrations of need oozing off the man holding them captive. Dean didn’t want the man’s beefy, slimy touch on him at all, but if it kept the sonovabitch away from Sammy he’d get over it. Anything to keep Sam from being raped again.

“I’d make it good for you,” he cooed at the large, naked man still kneeling before him.

A thick laugh tumbled from Gerald’s lips as a thin smile broke his face, “I’m sure you’d try. Though I do have to say that all the pleading you did before I took your little brother almost had me considering you instead.”

“Let him go and I’ll stay,” he swallowed the lump of hope that the man would actually agree to the bargain, hope that their father or anyone would be coming to the rescue- and forced the words from his throat, “give it to you any way you want, anywhere you want, anytime you want. I’ll blow your mind every time. You’ll never regret it.”

Gerald leaned in close to Dean, breathing the young hunter’s bravado. “Is that how he managed to stay so innocent? You always sacrificing yourself for him?” He pulled away quickly. “Tell you what, Dean,” he glanced at the still sleeping form on the bed, “I’ll give you one chance to make me change my mind.”

You can do this, Dean. He told himself as he allowed the muscle thick man to pull him to his knees. The cuffs bit sharply into his wrists and his arms ached after having been bent for so long at the same angle. “I’d be better if you at least let me loose of the register,” he said, as his head was pulled to the hardened member of his captor.

“Make it good,” Gerald said tightly.

For Sammy, he thought, swiping his tongue across his adhesive dried lips.

With hopes that Sam would be let free, Dean moved himself as close as he could to their captor’s erect member. A trembled sigh escaped his lips as he timorously took Gerald’s head into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he pushed all thoughts of Sam, their situation, the thick cock passing between his lips, and the painfully awkward angle of his arms out of his mind.

Swirling his tongue around the head of his captor’s cock, Dean did his best to remember mouth jobs he’d been given in the past and what he really liked about them. Sucking lightly at the head he pulled the man the rest of the way into his mouth. Breathing as deeply as he could manage, Dean did his best to ignore and work through the gagging feeling he had from the head of the man’s cock grazing the back of his throat.

For Sammy, he reminded himself, backing off the rod in his mouth- scraping the shaft slightly with his teeth as he went. He smiled inwardly at the hiss the man let out. He swirled his tongue once again around the head before dipping it into the weeping slit at the tip and then swallowing him hot and hard. He repeated the act a couple more times before the man fisted his hair holding him in place.

The pace was more brutal than the one Dean had set. He scarcely had time to breathe through the gag reflex before the man pulled back and slam back in.

With a rough grunt Gerald slammed home in the younger man’s mouth one last time before warm streams of cum filled Dean’s mouth and dribbled down his chin to his tear soaked tee.

“Not bad,” he said, pulling himself from Dean’s mouth with a sick wet pop. “When he wakes up, I’ll see if Sammy can top it.”

“You sick bastard,” Dean hissed at the man’s naked back as he retreated to the bed. “You said you’d let him go.”

“No,” he turned to face Dean, “I said that if you were better, I’d let him go. You were good, but between you and him I have no comparison.”

“You sonuvabitch!” Dean pulled already bleeding wrists against the cuffs keeping him from strangling the man.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Semen and spit clung to Dean’s chin in drying clumps as he watched his and Sam’s assailant lay beside his baby brother- stroking finger tips up and down the teen’s bare back. Cold anger coursed through the young man at his own stupidity. The bastard had used him as a play thing; a glorified blow up doll. The way the man’s thick fingers laid light trails along Sam’s spine told Dean all he needed to know: he was never going to let Sam go.

Play possum, Sammy. Dean prayed not looking away from the man filling the bed next to his sibling. Just stay asleep.

“Kidnap people often?” Dean asked, after too long an angry silence filled the room.

“No,” Gerald said, hand still running teasing lines along Sam’s back. “There aren’t very many boys worth the effort or risk.”

“Even if I was better than him,” Dean said, not bothering to hide the anger burning through his voice, “you’re never going to let him go.” Gerald gave a small nod of confirmation. “When are you planning to kill him?” Dean cringed inwardly at his own words; they were hollow and cold. If he didn’t get the chance to kill the sonuvabitch six ways to Sunday he prayed their father would. “You are going to die,” he hissed before the man could open his mouth to answer the question Dean’d asked.
“You’re never going to see him again,” Gerald said, changing the pattern’s he’d been tracing on Sam’s back from lines to circles. “We’re going to have such fun, he and I. I can’t guarantee the same for you though.”

“Planning on killing me?”

“No,” he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Sam’s shoulder, “you go up for sale.”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that.”

“Let’s see what little Sammy has to say about that,” Gerald said, giving the youngest Winchester a hard shake; jarring Sam from the black void of unconsciousness.

“Dean, you…” he stopped as the memory of the last few hours slammed through his mind. He froze, wishing he hadn’t woken up at all. Dull aching pain radiated through his shoulders and elbows, but was favorable to the pain his brain was registering below his waist. “Dean?”

“He’s here,” Gerald said, quietly. “In fact we have a little bet going, he and I.”

“W-w-what’s the bet?”

“Dean thinks that he’s better at blow jobs that you.” Panic, worry, fear and anger pooled in the teens hazel eyes at Gerald’s words. Everything about the teen laid out on the bed beside him was better than his expectations. Sam had been a better ride than many of his willing partners- but the combined anger and embarrassment of the brothers was more than he could have hoped.

Almost humming to himself, and beaming with new hunger for the newly wakened teen anchored to the bed, Gerald climbed from the bed.

“Don’t do that to him,” Dean pleaded, as the large man stalked from the bed to the discarded jeans near the center of the small room, “please.”

Gerald paused mid-reach for the discarded clothing to look Dean in the eye. Pain, helplessness, barely bridled rage and absolute terror filled the wide green orbs; tears flowing freely. For the second time that night Gerald found himself giving serious thought to giving in to his wonder about the other man’s body. Holding Dean’s gaze for a moment longer, Gerald scooped up the article of clothing at his feet. Slipping his hand into a back pocket, he pulled out a medium sized pocket knife.

With a harsh flick of his thumb, Gerald opened the knife. The serrated edge gleamed dully in the glow of the red neon. Smiling broadly he turned back to the teen affixed to the bed’s headboard.

“Do whatever you want to me, just leave him alone,” Dean yelled at the older man as he crawled back onto the bed. “Please, he’s just a kid.”

“Dean, if you don’t be quiet,” Gerald said, in a too calm voice, “I’m going to have to cut your beautiful tongue off. You don’t want that, do you?”

Dean shook his head to the negative- allowing tears to flow down his already stained face.

“Good boy,” he murmured, slipping the blade under the plastic tie and yanked up quickly. The tie broke with an audible snap.


~End Part Two~