Sometimes, this is what Dean needs.

Sometimes, life is too fucking much for him, and he needs this. He needs the loss of control, the feeling of being completely...owned.

Cas and Sam always know when. They can tell. Usually he'll slip from their mostly cheerful fearless leader into something darker, he'll drink a little harder, and snap a little faster.

One or both of them will pick up on it. They'll silently agree, next time they're in a motel, or when the bunker is empty, and they'll take care of him.

So that's how it begins. Dean is finishing up the dishes in the kitchen. He's been moody all day, bitching at both of them, yelling at them for the most minor infractions.

Cas sits in the library with a book in hand, raising an eyebrow at Sam as there's a crash and a curse from the general direction of the kitchen.

"Tonight," Cas says simply, as he stands and heads for the bedrooms. Sam knows he'll choose Sam's own room simply because it has the largest bed.

Sam stands, puts the books away, shuts off the lights, and moves towards the kitchen to collect his brother. This has to be done right, or Dean won't respond appropriately. He has to show his dominance from the first word, the first action, or Dean will reject the advance.

He stands just inside the kitchen doorway, watching as Dean slams cabinet doors, putting things away and bitching under his breath. He waits until his brother is done and reaching into the fridge before he makes his move, striding across the floor, quickly and soundlessly, grabbing Dean by the shoulders, yanking him out of the fridge, and slamming him face first into the wall next to it.

"What the fuck?!" Dean sputters, struggling against Sam's iron grip. "Lemme go!"

"No, Dean. I won't let you go," Sam growls into his ear, as he presses his chest against Dean's back, forcing Dean flat against the unforgiving surface of the wall. "You've been quite the little bitch the last several days. And if you're going to act like a bitch, then I'm going to treat you like a bitch. You wanna be my little bitch, Dean?"

"Get offa me Sam, I mean it," Dean hisses.

"Oh that isn't going to happen, big brother. You've been asking for this all day, hell, you've been asking for it all week."

Dean twisted in Sam's grip, his face red and angry, but his eyes betrayed them. His pupils were wide and black, already completely lust blown.

Sam smirked. Dean wanted it. He wanted it bad.

Dean stumbles as Sam throws him into his room, but a pair of strong arms catch him, and he's immediately being forced to his knees on the floor, his arms yanked roughly behind him.

"You've been a pain in the ass this week," Cas growls in his ear. "You've been a bad boy. You need to be…punished."

His dick twitches in his jeans. That gravelly inflection has always done this to him. And Cas knows it. He's pretty sure that Cas deliberately makes it lower at times like these, just to see Dean squirm.

"What should we do to him first, Cas? Maybe wreck that pretty mouth of his?"

"Mmm, I think he'd like that too much. He needs to be punished Sam. He needs to pay for his bad attitude this week. He needs to know he's pushed too far."

Cas's voice is hard, absolute. Dean squirms against the firm grip on his arms. He's lifted to his feet, and they both undress him. He's held tight by one or both of them, hands yanking away his shirt, pulling his boots off, stripping away his jeans and boxers. A blindfold is tied around his eyes and his hands are bound tightly at the small of his back.

Dean shivers slightly in the cool of the room. He'd never admit to liking this, not under pain of death, but he loves it. He loves how they own him, how they take all his control away. There's something very freeing in that loss of control. It's contradictory, sure, but it's the truth.

He feels so free when he has no control at all.

Now he's being bent over the bed, his feet on the ground. The mattress dips, and he can feel Sam's huge hands on his shoulders, holding him down.

"This is going to sting," is all the warning he gets from Cas, before a hard snap lands on his ass. He jerks slightly on the bed, a tiny gasp leaving his lips, and he barely recovers before the belt strikes him again.

His dick is hard and painful against the rough surface of Sam's blanket, and he jerks as another blow strikes.

The first ten hurt the most, and tears begin to leak from his eyes. By fifteen, Cas is no longer being careful to land the blows on the swell of his ass, and he's been hit several times on the backs of his thighs, and twice on his balls, and he's detaching from himself, almost completely still on the bed, while Sam gently strokes his hair and tells him he's a good boy. By twenty-five, he's lost count, and is almost unconscious, a slurred litany of pleasepleaseplease falling from his mouth. His throat is raw from the screams he didn't even realize he was making. Then it's just an unending line of countless blows, pain and ecstasy merging until he can't tell one from the other, can't distinguish anything beyond the pleasure.

Dean definitely checks out for a while. He's floating on a blissful cloud of detachment, and the blanket below him is wet with come.

"You love this. You love it when we do this to you. You came twice. You love this so much. Don't you Dean?" Cas growls in his ear.

He nods. It's all he can really do, he's very close to going under and staying there for the rest of the night.

"Uh-uh, don't you pass out. We're not done with you yet." Sam's big hands are pulling him up the bed and he's being rolled onto his back. The rough texture scrapes his raw skin and he whimpers. "It's ok big brother," Sam whispers, his breath hot in Dean's ear. "We're going to make you feel so good."

There are hands on him, brushing against his inner thighs, pushing his legs apart. There's a mouth on him, tongue darting and licking, brushing softly over his balls, the crease of his thigh, his hip. Dean squirms, and another set of hands push his hips down into the mattress.

"Fuck," he mumbles, voice raw and stripped from screaming.

"We'll get there," Cas growls in return, his voice making Dean's whole body shiver. Sam is slipping his hands under Dean's shoulders and pulling him up, settling his back against Sam's broad chest. He wonders when his brother lost his shirt.

The mouth tending to his thighs is moving again, licking and teasing, and he tries so hard not to squirm, but he can't help it.

Dean was ready to pass out, ready to let go, but they've managed to electrify him again, managed to send all the blood in his body rushing back to fill his cock. He lets his head loll back against Sam's shoulder, and there's another tongue trailing down the side of his neck.

The blindfold is still firmly in place, but Sam's fingers are working on the knots keeping his hands bound behind his back.

Sam's just loosened the final knot when the mouth that's been teasing the lower portion of his body descends on his cock, swallowing him whole in one movement, his hips trying to arch off the bed, but there are two iron grips holding him in place, and he cannot move.

Sam bites his neck, hard. Dean whimpers, so desperate for something, he doesn't know what, but it doesn't stop him from begging, the soft whisper of pleasepleaseplease tumbling from his lips again.

Cas increases his suction, then drags his teeth along the shaft as he pulls back up, twisting the tip of his tongue through the slit, then sucking him back down again.

"G-g—god- I can't- ugh- p-p-please, please. I can't- I can't!" Dean's falling apart, tumbling closer to the edge, and he's just about there, and Cas pulls off with an obscene pop, grabs Dean's dick at the base and squeezes.

"Not yet."

Dean whimpers, whines, pleads, begs for release, but Cas won't move his hand.

Cas slides off the bed, and grabs Dean by the ankles, yanking him off the mattress as well, then forcing him back on his knees. "You haven't pleased me yet. I'm going to fuck your mouth. Make it good, and I'll let Sam fuck you. And maybe we'll let you come."

Dean isn't given time to agree, he's simply force-fed Cas's dick. He barely has time to react before Cas's hands are gripping his scalp, pulling him in, thrusting hard into Dean's mouth.

God, he can't breathe. He can't swallow. He raises his hands to grab Cas's hips, to give himself something to hold onto, but Sam is there again, grabbing his wrists and pulling them behind, holding him in place while Cas slams into him, over and over.

He literally can't catch his breath. There are tears streaming from his eyes, his vision is fading, oh god he's going to pass out, he's going to, he can feel it, and Cas comes. He comes hard, and Dean's so exhausted he can't swallow it all, most of it dripping down his chin as Cas finally pulls out. He's gasping, dizzy, Sam is licking his face, cleaning away the come he can feel cooling on his cheeks.

Then he's being moved again, too weak and fucked out to help, he's being lifted by strong hands back onto the bed. He's laying on his belly, a tongue is tracing down his spine, a large hand is slipping between the cleft of his ass. There's the snick of a cap, then the feel of cool liquid. A thick finger slips inside him with little effort.

Sam moves quick, prepping him efficiently, choosing not to tease him too long, and then those big hands are pulling him up by his hips, pulling him up on his knees, and he's pushing in, cock hot and heavy, and Dean keens as Sam bottoms out, his balls pressed snugly against Dean's ass.

"Fuck- f-f-fuck-S-s-ammy. God." He pushes back against Sam, desperate for friction, for movement, he's so fucking hard it aches, aches all over and he just wants to…

"FUCK!" he screams, as Sam pulls out and slams back in.

"You like that?" his brother growls.

Dean can't talk, can't respond, can only nod weakly, and when Sam does it again, he sees stars behind the blindfold.

"We own you, Dean." Cas is whispering in his ear. "And you like it. You love it. You want this. Don't you?" A weak nod. "That's right. That's right, baby." Cas's gentle fingers are thumbing tears Dean didn't even know he was crying off his cheeks. Sam is slamming relentlessly into him. He's wrecked. He's wrecked, destroyed, being shaken apart in the most delicious way possible.

"You wanna come, Dean? You wanna wreck my bed?" Sam punctuates each word with a brutal snap of his hips.

"Y-y-yes. P-p-please." Dean is shaking, and Sam chuckles, and he reaches around Dean's hip and finds him, stroking him hard twice.

"Come, Dean. Let go, come."

He screams, the sensation is so intense, and everything falls away, blackness swallowing him whole.

Dean loses a chunk of time, because the next thing he's really aware of is that he's lying on his side, facing Cas, who's smiling, and gently stroking his cheeks. The blindfold is gone, and he's clean, wrapped in a blanket.

"Here. Sit up a little and drink this," Sam lifts him slightly and holds a bottle of water to his lips, and Dean drinks, the icy coolness a relief to his ruined throat. "There you go." He puts the bottle to the side, and tucks Dean back into the blankets, then snuggles down behind him. "Did so good. Such a good boy," he whispers, laying soft kisses on Dean's neck.

"Yes. You are a good boy. You did so well. So proud of you."

Dean smiles, too weak to really do anything else, but it's a good feeling, he's sore, but sated, wrecked, but happy.

It was totally worth throwing that fake bitch fit.