Summary: Dean's at the mercy of a more battle-hardened version of himself and the things this guy wants to do to him isn't exactly pleasant.
Warnings: selfcest (of the endverse Dean/2009 Dean variety), non-con, humiliation, threats of violence. Wincest-y thoughts going on although nothing sexual happens between the boys in this fic. THIS IS DARK, OKAY? Please for the love of God take the warnings seriously.
"Why don't you give me one good reason why I shouldn't gank you here and now?"
Dean swallowed back his fear. It was him after all. "Because you'd only be hurting yourself?" Simple and to the point. Flawless logic.
"Very funny." But his future self was still loading his Sig Sauer rifle and he didn't look all that amused. Quite the opposite, in fact.
"I'm no shapeshifter, or demon, or anything okay?" He struggled a little as he spoke, the handcuffs biting into his wrists.
"Yeah, I know. I did the drill while you were out. Nothing. You know what was funny was you have every lock pick, box cutter and switchblade I carry. You wanna explain that? Oh, and the, uh, resemblance while you're at it?"
"Zachariah." His heart rate skyrocketed, skin tickled with sweat. He licked his lips. God dammit, future him was kind of...intimidating. And a bit dickish.
The man stood, stared him down with his permanent frown. He looked like he wanted to step on him, snuff him out. Not really the 'welcome' Dean was hoping for. "Come again?"
"I'm you, from the tail end of 2009. Zach plucked me from my bed and...threw me five years into the future."
Future him laughed and it sent a chill through Dean. "Is that so?"
"Uh..yes."
He bent down in front of him and promptly spit on his face. "Then I hate you, you stupid piece of shit and you better start thinking of ways to entertain me or I'm putting a bullet in your damn brain."
"W-what the fuck are you talking about, asshole?" He turned his head and rubbed his face against his shoulder to try and wipe off the spit.
"It's the end of the fucking world, what did you expect? Sunshine and roses? I don't joke. Better start thinkin' real fast, or I'm gonna make the decision for ya."
He still had that fucking rifle in his hand, possibly a .223 caliber semi automatic. "Can you just...let me outta these handcuffs? And get that out of my face? I'll help you."
Future Dean smiled slow and hungry. "That's where you're wrong. If you wanna live and go back to your time...you're gonna do whatever the fuck I say. Let me do whatever I want, got it?"
"I don't-"
"Do I really gotta spell it out for you, genius?" Future Dean sneered, pointed the rifle against Dean's head, and okay, what the fuck- "You're gonna use that body for the only thing it's good for. You're gonna suck my cock like a slut, like all those bitches you take home and then...mm, well, I'm sure even a fuckin' moron like you can figure out the rest."
Dean flinched and then tried to ignore his body's urge to fight. That would have to wait until fucking later. "O-okay, whatever you want. Just. Don't shoot me. Please. I'll use my mouth on you right now, c'mon."
With a vicious thrust future Dean entered his mouth and Dean willed himself not to gag, to relax his throat and let the thick dick he knew so well fill him up. Hard hands grabbed his head, the thing growled and set a brutal pace.
Didn't take long for Dean's jaw to ache and he tried to pull off. "Gotta get my dick nice n' wet, 'cause that's all the lube you're gettin'," Future Dean hissed angrily, grip tightening on his face. Dean's eyes burned and he growled as he managed to yank free.
"Stop talkin' about it and do it already."
Even though he was expecting it he let out a small gasp when rough, scarred hands pushed his face to the cold floor, hands cuffed behind him. The smell of dust, blood and gun oil flooded his nose. Dean's jeans were quickly yanked down under the swell of his ass. He choked down desperate laughter at the thought that he was about to violate himself.
Sam. Sammy, Sammy, Sam. He clung to that name whenever he felt like giving up and it was playing an incessant loop in his head. Sam, who had no idea where he was. Sam, who he had let leave because he said it was for the best.
Future Dean pushed at his virgin asshole and Dean couldn't stop the flinch, then he forced himself to relax his muscles, let the monster in.
It fucking burned. He bit his lips when the desire to scream became too much. Then: "where's Sammy?"
Future Dean shoved in deeper, further, too fucking far. He refused to make a sound. "Haven't spoken to Sam in…five years." He hissed. "Sam's gone."
"No. T-that can't be."
"It is. Our precious little Sammy is gone. Never gonna forgive you for that."
Dean couldn't help the whimper that fell from his lips when he felt the dirty grind against his ass.
If he hadn't been so rough it might actually feel really fucking good, but that would be worse. "Dean, Dean, Dean. You can't hide from me. You're liking this, aren't ya? Fucking filthy. All you needed was a dick up your asshole, huh? Too bad it's not who you're really craving…"
Dean stiffened at that, cursed when the pain hit him full force again. "What the fuck? I'm straight, asshole. You know that. Don't try to mess with me."
"Oh god. You moron. You still don't know, huh? How badly you want him? S'okay. Never did find out if he felt the same way-"
"Stop jerking me around!"
"Sam. We want Sam. Maybe you wanna do a little role play, hmm? Pretend I'm Sammy? Bet that'd get you off-"
Dean tried to focus on the pain, on his aching ass, but like it or not the pleasure was building. His cheeks heated with the knowledge he could no longer deny: he was meeting the thrusts. It wasn't from the filth pouring out of the psycho's mouth. His body was just confused.
He didn't want Sammy. He wouldn't.
An arm snaked around him and Dean jerked as he felt those familiar fingers on him, pumping just right. "Please- don't. Don't touch me."
He laughed against his neck and the sound made his stomach flip. "Already agreed to do whatever I wanted like the whore you are. So come on my dick. Or…Sammy's dick. Think he'd be rough like this with you? Treat you like you need? Or maybe you think he'd be into slow lovemaking?"
Dean gasped and images came into his mind, unwanted. Except for the fact that picturing Sam pounding into him like this, forcing him onto his cock, forcing his cock into Dean's mouth was making Dean leak incessantly. Made him ache to come. He was so close now. So he let himself feel the pleasure-pain, the hands that twisted and teased just right.
"Sammy," he groaned into the floor as he came, tried to cover up the word.
His future self kept hitting his over sensitized prostate, coaxing whimpers from Dean. And then, thankfully, it was over. He could feel himself being filled with hot spunk.
The monster, who had yet to pull out, panted into his ear, "no matter how much Sam may hate you Dean, nobody can hate you as much as you hate yourself. Remember that."
Dean didn't get to kill the monster. Lucifer did.
He seemed pretty dead set on thinking no matter what Dean did, what they did, Lucifer would wear Sammy to the prom.
Not if Dean could fucking help it.
Sam, Sam, Sam. His mind screamed. His body ached. Sam.
He had to get back to him. Had to prove to himself Sam was still here, not being used as a vessel for some psycho angel.
He drove to their meeting place and his breath caught when he saw him.
Dean stood in front of his brother, his Sam again, heart thumping. The breeze was playing with his too-long, floppy girl hair. "Sam. I was wrong."
"What made you change your mind?"
"Long story. The point is, maybe we are each other's achelies heel, maybe they will find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know, we're all we've got. More than that. We keep each other human."
Sam was doing the stupid puppy eyes and it made his heart seize up. "Thank you. Really. I won't let you down."
"Oh, I know it. And you are the second best hunter on the planet."
"So what do we do now?"
"We make our own future."
Sam nodded. "I guess we have no choice."
Sam moved close, arms raised for a hug and Dean couldn't hold back a flinch. Shit. Sam stood there, frozen. He licked his lips, stared at him. "Dean…what happened to you? And don't fucking tell me it's nothing. You won't even let me touch you."
He swallowed. "There's nothing to say. I did it to myself, Sam."
"Whatever it was, we'll work through it, okay? You didn't deserve it."
"You don't know that." His eyes burned and he desperately tried to blink back tears. He was not going to cry, not now. Not in front of Sammy. "Can we just get in my Baby already? Really done with the share n' care thing we got goin' on."
Sam smiled, soft and sad. Not right at all. "Yeah, Dean. Okay."