Beta: unbetaed
Word Count: 1,056
Pairings: evil!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dub-con, Sam mindfucking Dean, mind control, and of course smexing
Summary: Dean refused to believe that Sam had gone dark side…until it was too late.
Author's Note: Written from my personal list of prompts extracted from spn_hardcore. The prompt was: mind control.
Fading
When the Gate's to hell opened no one knew who to point the finger at. But within a couple weeks all the fingers pointed at Sam Winchester. All but one, anyways. His brother's.
Until he had to face it. Literally.
They were in a motel on the outskirts of Sacramento, California. Or at least what used to be Sacramento. Now…now there was a whole lot of blood, screams, fire and black, billowing smoke that was hard to tell if it was from a fire or a demon. They're room looked slightly better looking than the world outside, but only marginally. There was no fire, or smoke. But there was…well it looked like it might've been blood. Once upon a time.
Throwing his duffle on the bed closest to the door he headed for the bathroom, not glancing at Sam who'd been behind him. His only thought was a shower to get the black dog blood off of him. Or at least that had been the plan before the door handle to the bathroom ripped from his hand as the door slammed shut inches from his nose.
Turning quickly, his hand moving to his back for his knife he blinked slowly when he realized it was only he and Sam in the room. That couldn't be right. There was no temperature drop or anything else that suggested a ghost. "Dude, is your mojo back?" He asked.
"No." Sam said, tilting his head. "It never left."
The next thing Dean was aware of, after a short blackout, was that he was sitting in a chair, facing Sam who was digging around in his duffle. The next was that when he tried to talk or move, nothing happened. Nothing at all. He could do nothing but watch as Sam stood back up again, something clutched in his large hand. Dean was trapped in his own body, an observer from the inside.
He watched as Sam turned and moved toward him, whatever as in his hand still hidden from Dean. A moment later he felt his own body move, standing on it's own. No, not on its own. He realized as he looked up into Sam's black eyes. Sam was now in control. Had taken over him. "What is it you want, Dean?" He asked, smiling at the same moment that Dean felt his own body reply.
"You, Sammy."
"Good." Sam smiled as he reached up to cup the back of Sam's neck with his free hand. Dean felt his body stepping forward, pressing against Sam and then leaning into a kiss. No matter how much he screamed and tried to punch Sam, do anything, nothing happened. His body responded to Sam's as if it had been created to do just that.
Dean could do nothing but watch, trapped in his body, as Sam backed his body up to the bed, stripping them both down. It was only once he was spread out on his back on the bed, his legs sprawling and open and his cock hard against his stomach, that he figured out what Sam had in his hand. Lube.
No! Sam! Don't! Don't you fucking dare, we're brothers!
He could hear himself yelling and couldn't help but wonder if Sam could here him as well, since it was his brother controlling his body. Jesus. His brother, his sweet little brother was controlling his body. Was going to fuck him on a bed with questionable stains. The same brother he taught to read, brush his teeth and to shoot a gun. The kid that used to climb into his bed at nights after a nightmare or when Dad had been drinking. The very reality of it as so far out there that Dean could barely grasp it, even as he felt his body arch up when Sam twisted one of his nipples.
It was odd, he could see what Sam was doing. He could sense what his body was doing, how it should be reacting. But he couldn't feel any of it. He was aroused – no, his body was aroused – but he could feel anything. He could hear and see, but that was it. No smells, no tastes, no feelings.
He didn't stop screaming at Sam, trying to take control of the situation as his body willingly rolled onto its stomach. He could hear moans and pleads falling from his lips. All directed toward Sam and what Sam was doing.
Then, finally, he felt something. Only it made him instantly wish he couldn't. It was fleeting, didn't last, but he could feel when Sam breached the tight muscles of his ass, sheathing himself inside Dean. He could feel the pain and the sharp spike of something – pleasure – as he brushed something. And then it was gone again and he was once again forced to watch as his body responded to Sam's as Sam thrust hard and deep into his body.
Moans and broken words filled the air, mostly from Dean's own mouth, even if they weren't what Dean himself was saying. But that didn't matter. Sam was in control now. And as the thrusts grew sharper, deeper, Dean's vision began to grey slightly, the sounds becoming muffled. But even as this happened, he had the sense that it was him experiencing it, not his body.
Sammy? Sammy, what's happening? Come on, bro, stop…please…stop….
Sam didn't stop, and neither did the fading of the two senses Dean still had. He could still tell what his body was doing, but it was growing weaker, as if he was disappearing, slowly being pushed away, taken over.
Stop…please, Sammy…
"Oh god, Dean…so tight and willing. You like this don't you, want it like a little whore."
No, no that ain't right. Sammy, stop this. Something's wrong. Very wrong.
"Nngh…that's it. Beg, Dean, beg."
Please…stop…
"Gunna get you on your knee's next, fuck that pretty cocksucking mouth of yours."
Stop…
"Come all over your face and neck, make you wear it when we go out tomorrow."
Please...
"Uuuuughhh, Dean. God, you're so fucking tight, and hot."
Sammy…help…
And then he felt something again, one last flash. He felt his own body bow with pleasure as his cock pulsed and came. He could feel Sam pulsing within him, his warm come filling him. And then things began to fade again. Quickly.
Sammy…