Devil in the Detail

“On your feet bitch,” Handel ordered his wife. “We’re going for a little drive. Sammy here is missing his brother and Louis’ needs a little leverage.”

Vicky hesitated, “Now, bitch, or you can lie here and rot with ‘Ben, darling’. Think I din’t know ‘bout you two. What sort of schmuck d’you take me for? I’ve been waiting for the right set up, and who better than the brother of a murderer. Now you’d better pay attention, bitch, cos there’s going to be no-one left to play poor little rich girl with anymore, you better be proving to me that you are a better wife than I see at the minute.”





Sam sat very still in the chair. Handel stood over him impassive and immovable. Louis smiled at his tightly controlled expression. Dean stood, almost embarrassed by his nudity, although the brothers had no real secrets.



“Now Dean,” Louis said sweetly. “You wouldn’t behave for your own benefit, perhaps you will for his.”



“Go to hell,” Dean said.



Handel locked his arm around Sam’s neck, pulling his head back at an awkward angle. Sam struggled but the hold was firm. Using his free arm, Handel drew the knife across Sam’s exposed cheek, a tiny line of red beads sprang up across the smooth skin, as he exclaimed in pain.



Dean fought against the cuffs frantically. “I am gonna kill you, you bastards.”



Louis nodded to Handel, who moved the knife under Sam’s chin.



“All right, all right whatever you want, just no more,” Dean said.



Handel released his grip. “No, Dean,” Sam said, shaking his head, “Don’t you do this. No.”



Handel laughed, snorting down his nose. “Oh, aint that sweet, two brothers prepared to sacrifice themselves for each other.” He whacked Sam across the side of the head for good measure.



Dean stood quietly now, head bowed, too agonised to look his brother in the eye. “Not in front of him,” he murmured, “please just not in front of Sam.”



“Dean, no please, no don’t.” Sam begged, eyes filling with tears. Too much guilt already, he couldn’t bear anymore. How many more people had to suffer to spare him? Sam threw himself forward from the chair and started towards Dean, but Handel grabbed his upper arms and dragged him back towards the chair and forcing him back onto it and hooked his cuffed hands back over the chair, fastening the connecting chain to the back of the seat.



He held the knife against Sam’s throat, once more, grazing the skin as he swallowed. Handel smirked, this was fun. Normally he preferred not to watch, he enjoyed the violence and the pain, but Handel was a ladies man and two men coupling didn’t ring his bell. He was earning good money snatching misfits for Louis, he had his bitch to act as a honey trap and to then satisfy him, when his sadistic urges were aroused. And these two little cocksuckers had almost ruined it all. So, for once, he was staying, and when the tough little fucker, Dean, was gone, he would have the pleasure of offing the brother, trying to escape after killing Willis. But not until he milked every ounce of despair and pain. He revelled in his own cleverness and licked his top lip at the thought of what he would do to Vicky later.



“Not in front of Sam,” Dean said again. Head hanging down.



“He’s my insurance,” Louis said coldly. “If you won’t comply, he gets the beating.”



Dean raised his head, and for a few seconds the brother’s gazes locked on one another. Sam’s pleading, Dean’s weary.



“Ok,” he hissed, clearing his throat, refusing to look at Sam any longer.



“No, Dean, don’t please, don’t do this.” Handel silenced with a chopping blow to the throat that left him gasping for breath.



“Enough Handel,” Louis snapped. “He is only hurt if Dean misbehaves. That is my side of the bargain.” Sam continued to cough and choke. “Gag him if he remains a nuisance, but no more damage.” Louis raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question, Dean nodded, his jaw and lips set in anger. Louis unhooked first one arm and then the other, before clipping them together with a few inches of chain behind Dean’s back.



“On the floor, lean back against the cushions,” Dean sat back, swallowing hard. Louis knelt between his legs forcing them apart, stroking his fingers through the soft fluffy hairs along the cleavage and curve of Dean’s cheeks. His gentle hands began stroking and caressing, the back of an index finger sliding smoothly between Dean’s legs, dragging through the loose rough flesh and along the crease of his thigh. The other hand pushed on his chest forcing him to lie back. Sam was fighting again, trying to break free, before Handel raised the knife against his other cheek.



Louis bent forward, pausing to kiss Dean hard on the lips, soft moist lips and tongue seeking union and meeting with stony resistance, until the threat to let Handel even a little bit loose on Sam forced Dean to reciprocate. Louis sighed into the kiss, before moving slowly along the jaw line and neck, nibbling gently with teeth, leaving small marks in the whiskered skin. He brushed his lips over the mark he had made earlier on Dean’s neck, enjoying the shudder that ran through Dean. He lowered his head, nipping at the soft hair tracking from Dean’s navel, stroking his fingers from armpit to hips, just scratching enough for Dean to shiver, his stomach muscles twitching away under the contact as the hands moved inward. Dean clenched his fists, fighting the urge to resist.



Louis began smoothing gel onto his hand and as the cold wet fingers passed over his skin, Dean shuddered again. And then those insistent fingers were pressing into him again, twisting and stretching. Deep and uncomfortable and painful, arching away, he forgot to breathe, little stars bursting in his vision. “Breathe,” Louis said softly, “pass out and I start all over again.”



Initially the pain was brutal, his sphincter fighting uselessly to contract against the invading fingers. Then, Louis slipped his mouth down and Dean thrust forward into the warm recess with a scream as Louis pressed against his prostate. The thrill of it, flushing through him like a drug rush. His body responding automatically to the stimuli, with very little input from his mind. Seething, he tried to pull away only to feel the surge of pleasure as Louis, mouth and hands perfectly synchronised pushed the pain and pleasure button again.



Dean howled in anguish and stared straight into Sam’s deep eyes. He froze and the anger came again. The sight of Sam, Handel’s fingers twisted in his hair, face contorted by the pinch of a cruel hand, forced to watch as Louis sucked him off, enraged him.



Louis sensed the change in his body and pulled his mouth away, with a flourish of his tongue, flicking up and over the tip as he did so. He raised his head and looked into those sultry green eyes, blazing in the glowering face. It wasn’t quite how Louis had imagined their eyes meeting at this point, but it was still entrancing. The handsome features twisted with rage and pain.



“When this is over,” Dean whispered harshly, “I’m gonna kill you…slowly…in the most painful way I can think of, and just when you think you’ve taken enough, I’ll let you live just a little longer, you bastard. You hear me, I’m gonna kill you.”



Louis withdrew his fingers sharply and Dean did nothing more than grimace and turn his head to the side. Shaking off the shock of those few seconds, where Louis felt his destiny might just be to die in this boys’ hands, Louis chuckled and said, “You’re ready.”



Dean was sullen and silent as he was order to flip over, hands now released, facing his brother.



“Look at the sweet little bitch boy,” Handel sneered at Sam. “On his hands and knees, just asking to be mounted.” Sam closed his eyes, but Handel squeezed so tight he almost dislocated his jaw. “You’re in this mess, cos you looked too much at what you shouldn’t have, Sammy boy, so now you keep ‘em open, and take it all in.”



Fear was forcing stomach acid into Dean’s mouth, causing his blood to run cold as if someone had injected him with anaesthetic and he had a feeling that before long he was going to wish that they had.



Louis busied himself smearing yet more cold lubricating get between his cheeks, it was an unpleasant sensation. Dean clenched his hands into tight fists, pulling in the fabric of the eiderdown under his hands. He tensed as Louis touched his body, running moist finger along his ribs, walking soft fingers up his spine and stroking his back. He felt the little man’s weight as he stretched over him, kissing his shoulder blades and whispering his name.



He winced and jerked away as Louis grabbed his arse. He closed his lips determined not to make any noise, but the pain as Louis pushed his throbbing organ into him was unbearable and he moaned. Louis mewed in satisfaction as Dean’s body spasmed around him gripping hard. “So tight,” he murmured, “Oh, so tight.”



Sam watched in muted shock, as Louis’ skin came alive. His chest was a blur of soft blue green tones as the demon’s face formed across the taut flesh. Louis stretched his neck, gasping with pleasure, losing the battle for control with the demon, eyes like inky pools, lips darkening, double tipped tongue just visible.



“Your brother’s gonna be a tat,” Handel growled in Sam’s ear. “And then you’re gonna die.” Sam struggled again, pushing against the floor with his feet, forcing the chair to rock backwards, but to no avail. Handle laughed again as Sam began cursing in Latin.



Dean collapsed forward, arms buckling under him, words and thoughts lost in a single scream of “No.” Iron like hands gripped his hips, hauling him back, each finger digging deeply into the flesh, bruising and tearing. Dean fought in panic, as Louis’ hand closed around his penis, stroking and pulling, forcing another pulse of near pleasure. “No, please stop,” he begged, hating himself for the weakness in his voice, but desperate to stop the pressure and pleasure.



Louis moaned in ecstasy, pushing his mouth against Dean’s back, kissing and nipping his spine, tongue lapping gently at each tiny mark he made with his teeth. Dean cried again, eyes firmly shut, fighting the urge to struggle more, his skin prickling with a cold sweat, he bit his lip, eye lashes wet with tears.



Sam continued to stare in quiet horror. Handel sneered. “It will happen,” he said almost to himself. “Louis is talented enough to get a reaction out of any man, Dean will enjoy this and then …” Realisation and hope cleared Sam’s brain. Rapists and demons don’t seek to give pleasure, unless they need to for themselves.



“Dean, don’t let him make you orgasm, it’s some form of incubus, it feeds on sexual energy. No orgasm, no feed. It can’t feed if ….” Handell drew back his hand and the last thing Sam saw before the impact smashed him into dark oblivion was Dean’s agonised face raising up to look at him.



With the demon in control of Louis, weakened by pain and exhaustion, the last thing in his mind was cumming. The demon glared at Handel in fury, and Handel responded by throwing Sam to the floor.



Dean screamed in agony as Louis began to withdraw, despite the lubrication it felt as though someone had filled him with sandpaper. He screamed himself hoarse, all bravado forgotten as Louis slammed back into him, burning and ripping as blistering hot as before. Louis moulded himself over Dean’s back as he sank inside him to the hilt, biting down on his shoulder. “I do recommend you relax, Dean. This will feel much better if you relax and stop fighting me.”



Dean nearly passed out as Louis rode him in earnest, one hand wrapped around his waist, effortlessly holding him in position, the other caressing his testicles and milking him in time to his own strokes.



The pain was intense, but so was the pleasure as Louis changed the angle of his thrusts. Dean ground his teeth and focussed on Sam lying on the floor, arms twisted behind his back, face bloodied. Focussed on his anger, and the smell of his own sour body and the slap of skin on skin.



“Agggh, God. No” he was desperate, crying now with the pain and humiliation. They had made Sammy watch, they had made his little brother watch.



After what seemed like an eternity he heard Louis grunting behind him, pushing up hard and holding there as an unearthly groan of satisfaction turned into a long drawn out sigh, like air escaping from a vacuum. The warmth flooding through Dean as Louis lay across his back. They both fell forward, Louis deflating rapidly and slipping out of him.



Louis crawled to one side, panting heavily and rolling on to his back as the demon withdrew and the tattoos, which had shown many mouths calling in ecstasy pulled back into swirls and stilled. Dean threw up as he felt the sticky warmth dribbling down his legs, he retched and retched unable to stop himself.



Handel dragged him upritght and Dean staggered legs weak. Handel slammed a fist into his gut, which combined with the retching seemed to wrench every muscle in his torso. Louis struggled on to his feet, and swayed as he made his way to the chair, slumping into it.



Handel turned his attention back to Dean, stringing his arms back to the columns on either side of the room. He seized Dean’s jaw, much as he had Sam’s earlier, and looking directly into his face, he gave a gentle smile. “Looks like you and me will have time to get better acquainted, whilst your brother sleeps it off. See you damn near broke my nose before and I don’t think I’ve properly paid you back yet.”