The Things We Have to Do
Rated: M
Summary: Sam and Dean are faced with a choice: have sex, or die. Wincest.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Supernatural. If I did, I'd probably still be here writing sexytime stories... just because.
...spnspnspnspnspn...
Dean awoke with a slightly odd sensation in his head that, only from experience, told him he'd been drugged to unconsciousness at some point beforehand. When he tried to move his hand up to wipe at his eyes, he realized he was bound. That's when he started trying a bit harder to open his eyes.
It was a bit of a struggle, at first. He was trying to remember what, exactly, he'd been doing, last he could remember. What he could remember, was getting back to the hotel with Sam, after taking down a fairly sizable coven of witches, after they'd decided to entertain themselves by forcing people to participate in a "fuck or die" situation. Dean hated witches...
Wait...Sam...
Dean's eyes shot open, then, in search of an answer to whether or not Sam was still with him. Immediately, he realized just where he was. And his bound hands behind the pole at his back, where his torso was also bound to, and his tied feet out in front of him, only solidified his conclusion.
"Ah fuck me!" he grunted.
"I think that's the general idea," Sam's voice sounded somewhere off to his left.
"Sam?" Dean tried to look over.
"Hey just...just don't look at me, okay?" Sam replied.
"Why not? Are you hurt?" Dean asked, a bit fearfully. "Sammy?"
"No... I'm not hurt. Just...just keep your eyes straight ahead, for now. Please, Dean."
Flashes of what they'd found, earlier, played through Dean's mind, and suddenly he was really scared that something was happening to his younger brother, right then. "Sam, is someone else in here?" he ground out.
"No," Sam all but whispered in reply.
"Then why don't you want me to look at you?" Dean asked, but then glanced down at himself, and realized that he was stark naked. "Okay, maybe I have an idea," he decided, "But hell, Sam, it's not like we haven't seen it all before... Gym showers and all."
"That's not it," Sam told him, just as quietly as everything else he'd said.
"Then what, man?"
"I'm getting myself ready," he replied.
"Getting..." Dean thought about that for a moment. Then his face fell and his eyes widened. "Oh hell no!" he shouted. "I thought we took out these damn witches!"
"We did," Sam replied. "Only we overlooked something that should've, honestly, been obvious."
"What's that?"
"Why the hell would witches want to create 'fuck or die' situations for kicks?"
"Because they're twisted, sick fucks! That's why!"
"Well, granted that's...likely part of the problem," Sam replied. "But, remember the witch 'book-club' back in 08?"
Dean narrowed his eyes in thought. Of course he remembered, but what the hell did that have to do with- ...oh wait. "There's a demon runnin' this show," he surmised.
"Yeah. And now we're stuck playing this game."
"We don't have to do a damn thing," Dean grunted, frustratedly.
"You know what'll happen if we don't, Dean," Sam argued. Unfortunately, he did know. He knew all too well, because they'd seen it with their own two eyes. It's what alerted them to the small town, in the first place; bodies turning up...skinned alive. Only, it wasn't like the skin had been cut from their bodies. More like peeled, like a banana. Even Dean hadn't been able to eat the rest of that day, after the visit to the morgue.
"So it's already cursed us," Dean concluded.
"Yeah," Sam told him. "And the longer we wait to do this, the farther she'll get away, and the harder she'll be to catch."
"You saw the demon?" Dean asked, turning to crane his head and look over at his brother, finally actually finding him, now that the haziness had worn off enough.
"Dean! I said not to look!" Sam yelled. But Dean's eyes were wide, and he was unable to look away, no matter how much he might've wanted to, in that moment. It was fascinating. Disturbing as fuck, but fascinating in an...absolute 'I'm going straight back to Hell' kinda way. There Sam was, on his knees, ass in the air, and cheek to the ground. One of his hands was draped behind him, dipped in the crack of his ass, which was glistening from what Dean realized was lube, since there was also a bottle of it beside him. Sam's hand had stopped moving, since Dean looked over. But his fingers were clearly still buried in his hole.
Dean finally shook his head, as if to clear it, and forced himself to look away. "Nononono this can't be happening," he panicked.
"Yeah, I saw her," Sam continued, as if nothing had just happened. "And she doesn't think we'll do this. So we really need to prove her wrong and get it over with, because I'm sure she's already headed out of town, as we speak."
"Fuck...fuck fuck fuck...Sam, untie me," Dean started to go into full panic mode. "We can't... We can't do this. Not like this. Don't wanna hurt you, Sammy."
"You're not gonna hurt me," Sam replied, calmly. "It's why I've been preparing myself since you've been unconscious. It'll be fine. We do what we need to do, just like for every hunt."
"No, Sam, we... I don't think I can do this. I'm...I'm not ready..."
"You've been ready, since we started talking about it, Dean," Sam's voice was getting closer, but Dean was slightly confused about what his brother had just said. He found himself looking down at his crotch, and realizing that Sam was right; he was hard. When the fuck did that happen? He jumped, when he felt a hand on his bare shoulder. "It's okay," Sam told him, in an almost disturbingly calm voice.
"It's anything but okay," Dean replied. "This whole thing is...just plain insane. The fact that I somehow got-it-up for my brother, slightly worrying. You being so level-headed about all of this, quite frankly is starting to freak me the hell out."
"It's just as insane as it was for all the other people they did this to," Sam reasoned, staying there, just behind Dean as he spoke. "You getting-it-up... Well, it's kinda been a while, hasn't it?" meaning since he'd had sex.
"I've been busy," Dean lamely defended.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Dean," Sam replied, without mocking. "I haven't been with anyone in... Well, I mean I haven't...while I've had my soul back, that is." Dean seemed to think a bit on that fact, as if it was some kind of revelation. "And I'm freaking out just as bad as you," Sam claimed. "I'm just...trying to keep relaxed. Because...I kinda need to be..."
Dean took a few moments to mull that statement over in his mind. Somewhere within those moments, he began to hyperventilate, without realizing it, until Sam was suddenly in front of him with his hands on Dean's shoulders and a look of concern on his face.
(to be continued...)
