*Trigger Warning* Dean is in a pretty compromising position here, but I don't take it much further than the show would. Just throwing in a heads up.
Dean Winchester groggily pulled against the bonds pinning him down. He lay on his stomach, head turned to the side, pinned at the wrists. He tried to pull his legs up under him and found that he couldn't. He kicked out slightly, trying to get a purchase on the ground he was lying on. The toe of his booted foot scraped impotently against the concrete as the rope around his ankles held tight.
"Shit." He said softly. His mind begin to assemble fragmented pieces of memories and, suddenly, he was wide awake. Aware and alert at a moment's notice as was his habit. Man something tells me that this is going to suck unless I passed out in the middle of a bondage fantasy roleplay. He tried to get a notion of where he was from what he could see. The blank space around him didn't tell him much. The set of shapely legs that stepped into his vision told him much more.
"Well well... my Winchester boy is awake." The voice was female, sensual and predatory.
His peripheral vision caught the rest of her. Blonde, beautiful, strikingly featured. She knelt lithely down next to him. "I hope you're comfortable."
"Oh yeah, face down on concrete is my preferred recreational position," he quipped. "Want to tell me why I'm here?"
"Sweetheart...sometimes when you hunt the Panther long enough, the Panther starts to hunt you."
"Wascally wabbit."
Red lips curved into an indulgent smile and she reached a hand out to gently trace along the line of his jaw. "So witty."
"Thanks," he said with a slight grin. "I try."
Her hand was warm as she laid it against the back of his neck. He flinched momentarily, a little afraid of what she may do to him. She chuckled. "Easy, Dean. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Then what are we doing here?" he asked.
She moved out of his view and pressed her cheek to his ear. "Oh, I'm going to have some fun with you." She whispered, her breath hot against his skin. A chill ran up his spine. She made a swift motion to swing a leg over him and he felt her thighs settle on either side of his lower back as she straddled him. She leaned over and placed a surprisingly gentle hand in his shortly cropped hair.
"Is this supposed to intimidate me because its not working."
"Oh, Dean," She said throatily, "Poor, simple Dean."
She leaned over and he felt her mouth close gently over the exposed nape of his neck. He involuntarily gasped and pulled against his restraints. She grazed has skin with her teeth and tongue. "I'm not trying to intimidate you," she whispered. "I'm trying to confuse you."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Okay, that's working."
"I'm trying to get into the little cracks of your psyche and play there." She wedged her knee between his thighs and pushed up. "Play there until I force those cracks to widen." She pushed up again, forcing his thighs little wider though he didn't have much play against the ropes.
Dean groaned. He balled his fists and felt his respiration quicken. He didn't know what to think, torn between repulsion and some weird pleasure.
Her knee lingered between his thighs for a moment longer and then the pressure disappeared and she was straddling him again. "Because that's the fun part. You're such an easy target. Your brother has one weakness- you. But you, Dean. Oh, there are so many cracks in your foundation it's hard to know where to begin."
She sank her fingers into his broad shoulders and began to knead the muscles there. He was as tense as a steel beam, primed to fight or flee. "You see that's the problem with being broken from such a young age... your entire foundation is off. It's like building a brick house on top of a weak foundation. At first it might not seem to matter, but eventually as the ground shifts and that foundation can't take it...it starts to crumble- the cracks, well they start to shift the entire structure. The ceilings, the walls, until nothing is stable, until one day- it just falls."
"Well thank you for the construction lesson and the massage." She could see the flash of white teeth in Dean's carefully perfected rakish grin. In answer, she leaned over and ran her tongue along the outside of his exposed ear. "You are so delicious, Dean," she whispered.
"Thank you," He looked at her out of the corner of his vision. "I have to say this is the most awesome hostage situation I've ever been in." The light caught his cheek and the flash of the dimple there as he smiled. She ignored him.
"All that sexiness-that face- that body-wrapped up in the damage of that psyche. It's like unwrapping a birthday present." She pushed her fingers roughly through his hair and then her hands slid down the sides of his half buttoned green Oxford. He made a grunting sound and tried to pull free.
"Maybe I'm not as damaged as you think I am."
"Oh, I have a suspicion that you're more so than you I think you are." The hands traced to the front of the chest and suddenly she was leaning against his back. He felt her weight and the press of her breasts against him. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back slightly. A shiver ran down his body.
As he felt her form press to him, a foreboding anxiety he hadn't felt before rose up. For the hundredth time he tried to shift his position but now he couldn't.
"Let me go," he said softly.
"Oh, where's that Winchester bluster, that fight?"
"Let me go, bitch!" he bit out vehemently.
"That's more like it." She watched the stress lines around his mouth deepen.
Deftly, she was off of him again and sitting Indian style in front of his view, her tight black outfit shifting with her lithe movement. "You don't know what to think, do you?" She asked, a smile curving one corner of her shapely mouth. "Me... my form...you want me. You can't help but want me and yet... you hate all that I am. Hunt my kind without mercy... and..." she made it obvious that her eyes were tracing the lines of his prone body. "You hate to be helpless. Oh, you hate it so much."
She leaned forward and placed a hand on the curve of Dean's ass. He flinched from her touch. She moved her hand down between his legs. He sucked in a hissing breath and tried to pull away, but he was caught. She watched the color rise to his cheeks, his jaw tense, his stomach flex, the muscles of his thighs contract. He bit his lower lip with his perfect white teeth and closed his eyes.
"Oh poor Dean," she purred, exploring him more with her hand. Dean pressed his cheek against the concrete. He wanted out.
And there was a loud bang from somewhere in the distance. They both jumped at the unexpected loudness of it. She was on her feet in a moment's time. "Shit. I think your cavalry is here." She dashed out of his view with a preternatural swiftness. A second later, the sound of booted feet hit the hallway and a shout of "Dean?"
"Sam, I'm in here!" he replied.
Sam's tall form knelt beside him a minute later. One of Sam's large hands gripped the back of the shirt collar. "Hey, you alright?"
"Yeah," Dean grunted.
Sam set to unstrapping one wrist, then the other.
He moved to the restraints on his ankles. Dean tried to push himself up into a sitting position and Sam hissed.
"Hey, stay still. You kicking your feet isn't helping."
Dean felt the ankle restraints drop and he was up on his knees in a minute and rubbing life into his wrists, panting.
Sam was studying him in that disconcerting way he had when he was worried.
"Dude, what?" Dean asked impatiently.
"You sure you're okay?" His younger brother's eyebrows knitted together. "I mean she had you for hours. I just..."
"You're disappointed I'm not covered in blood or something?"
"No! Of course not." Sam blushed and stood up, looking around the room.
Dean remained on his knees a moment more trying to get his body under control. He took a deep breath. He could feel Sam's eyes on him again. "Jesus, Sammy!" He lurched to his feet with a wince.
"I think she got away." Sam said.
"No shit, sitting here hovering over me while she ran off."
Sam's look turned stormy. "You'd rather I left you tied up on the floor longer while I chased her?"
Dean looked abashed. "No," he rubbed his neck, grimaced. "I'm good. Come on let's get out of this hell hole." He spared a quick glance at the floor where he'd been tied and stalked off.