Title: Shards of Broken Glass
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sam, a bartender, meets Dean Winchester over a bottle of beer. He gets more than he bargained for when he finds out about Dean's tumultuous and abusive past.
Warnings: Mature language, intense sexual situations, rape and sexual abuse of a minor, incest, etc. It's a dark story, admittedly.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, any of its plots, or its characters.
A/N: This will be a multi-chapter fic, with violence and sexual situations (Sam/Dean but unrelated)
Samuel Singer was a bartender. And a damn good one, if he did say so himself. He prided himself on his ability to make a margarita, and always was happy to help out his customers by suggesting his favorite whiskeys and beers.
And, of course, the other menu. But Sam wasn't a whore; he was simply a man who like to cast his sights far and wide.
That was how he met Dean Winchester.
It'd been a quiet Friday (Sam never really figured out why; the bar was pretty popular) and there'd only been a few faithful regulars with their faces buried in their frothing mugs of Corona and tossing back shots like they were still 21. Sam had been nursing his own bottle of Stella for a while, watching the game on the slightly fuzzy TV when the door swung open, revealing a tall man with spiky brown hair and a leather jacket.
Needless to say, Sam had been interested at once.
The man had swaggered over to the bar and plunked himself down in a wooden barstool, ignoring Sam for the moment as he inspected the coaster that proudly stated "HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE". Sam waited patiently, taking in the sight of the guy's full lips and strong shoulders. The stranger just traced the letters with his pointer finger, looking up only when Sam took a swig of his own beer. Down the body of the sweating bottle, Sam had met this stranger's eyes, shocked into submission by the intensity of the green eyes he saw.
"You want anything?" Sam asked, gesturing to the taps and shelves he had behind him.
The stranger looked up with a sly smirk playing on his lips. "A beer." He raked his eyes over Sam's slim form, observing the muscles that hid underneath his plaid shirt. "And maybe something else later." He watched as Sam crouched down and grabbed a cold glass bottle from under the bar, setting it on top of the coaster with a clink.
"You're new," Sam observed, opening the bottle with the opener in his pocket. "Passing through?"
The stranger shrugged. "I might stay."
"You should." Sam grabbed his stool from the other side of the bar and plopped it down in front of the stranger, bringing his own beer with him. "I'm Sam."
The other man nodded. "Dean."
"My shift's almost over," Sam commented, looking at the clock mounted on the wall behind Dean. "You want to get out of here?"
Dean smiled a wicked grin. "Or we could leave now," he suggested. "The other guy's here already; why don't we just go?"
Sam returned the grin with one of his own. "Sure," he murmured, getting up and walking around so that he could get to the main area of the bar, where the customers sat. He said, "I live two floors up from this place. My apartment's pretty big."
"Sounds good," Dean replied. "Lead the way."
The second Sam closed the door to his apartment, Dean had him pressed against the door, ravaging his lips with a punishing kiss.
Sam could get used to that.
Five Years Later...
"Why have I never met your parents?" Sam asked softly, touching his fingers to the birthmarks on Dean's body, lingering over a long, white one along the inside of his thigh.
Dean sighed and rolled over, turning away from the taller man. "You'd never talk to me again if you knew," he muttered quietly.
Sam dared to lay a hand on the older man's shoulder. "Dean," he murmured, rolling closer until his lips were inches from Dean's ear, "I've known you for years. I've loved you for all of them. You can tell me anything and I'd never hate you. Ever," he swore.
Dean rolled back over, facing the long-haired man with a sad grin. "You'll want to brace yourself." He looked down as his hand was suddenly enveloped in a large, warm paw. He looked up and saw Sam smiling back at him.
"Ready," Sam whispered, pressing a kiss to Dean's sweaty forehead. "Anytime you are."
"Okay then," Dean replied, then he took a breath and began.
"My mother was a whore," Dean explained bluntly, wrapping his arms around himself in preparation for what he was about to say. "She worked at a nightclub in the bad side of town, dancing until ten and then sleeping with men till one thirty. If her client was particularly demanding, she'd go till two.
"Every night she'd come home, dressed in barely more than stark naked. She'd sometimes have a bra on, but it honestly wasn't much. On a good day, it'd be a strip of cloth that somehow managed to cover just enough. On a bad day, she'd be lucky to wrap a bathrobe around herself." Dean shuddered for a moment, letting the memories wash over him in a terrifying wave. "I'd be reading a comic book - Dad didn't care how long I stayed up - and she'd stagger in with her thong tattered and some guy's semen drying on her thighs. Dad was a lazy drunk, and he didn't really work at all."
Sam made a sympathetic noise, rubbing his thumb against the back of Dean's hand.
Dean sighed and continued. "The first day it happened was the worst. That was when I was twelve. Mom came in, this time with a halfway decent outfit on. I was playing with some action figures next to the fireplace. Dad was sitting in his armchair, smoking a cigarette and reading some ancient Playboy. He looked up when Mom came in and beckoned her over with his finger. She went over and kneeled between his legs, looking up at him with those eyes of hers. He grabbed her hair in his hands - she had the longest blond hair I've ever seen - and pulled her head towards his pants. He told her to take them off." Dean shuddered. "She did. And then he told her to strip for him, like she did in the club. She stood up and started to take off her bra. And she continued to dance for him, taking off what little clothing she was wearing. I tried not to look and just turned away, but I still heard her little breaths as she played with herself in front of my dad.
"After a little while, Dad told her to stop. I looked over and saw that he had his hand around his dick, which apparently was interested in Mom's dance. He called her over and she went, climbing into his lap. She was about to lower herself onto him, but he stopped her and pushed her off to her place in between his legs. Once she was kneeling, he pushed her head towards his dick, and she started sucking it like it was a fucking cherry lollipop. I couldn't help but watch. I was twelve and the hormones were, you know, hormones. And Dad was making these noises that were just terrifying, all these moans and grunts and he was thrusting into my mom's mouth and she was nearly choking around his dick." Dean stopped, shaking.
Sam wrapped his arms protectively around his lover. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'm here. Just talk."
Dean nodded and continued shakily. "Just when he was about to come, Dad stood up, leaving Mom to gasp for air once his dick was out of her mouth. And then Dad came over to me, taking off his shirt. He pulled me up to a standing position and told me to take my clothes off. I tried to run, but he held me there and roared in my face. 'Take them off, boy!' he yelled, and I had to obey. He probably would've killed me if I hadn't.
"So I took 'em off and I saw Dad's eyes get dark with lust. He took my hand and forced it onto his swollen dick, making me stroke it so that precome dribbled out in a milky stream and he gasped for a minute. Then he grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the wall. He growled in my ear about how he was about to fuck me raw and I screamed like a girl, I swear to god that I did. And I tried to get away but then suddenly his fingers were at my ass and he was pushing my face against the wall. I tried to squirm away; he started to kiss my neck and my face was turned towards my mom. She was fingering herself like she was loving what she saw. And then - Sammy, do you remember how you felt when I prepped you that first night that we were together? How that was your first time being the bottom?"
Sam nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of Dean's head. "Yeah, I remember."
"Well, imagine that being multiplied by about a hundred. And Dad's fingers went in dry and they were just pretending to prep me; they were just fucking into me and I screamed. It was agony, and Mom just sat there, smiling like she was having the time of her life. And Dad was just shoving his fingers around in my ass. Then he took them out." Dean took a deep breath. "And then he shoved his dick up my ass."
Dean felt his entire body vibrate as Sam growled deep in his throat, feeling his taller lover's arms tighten around him in protection. He could feel the fury rolling off of Sam in waves and, despite his usual qualms about chick-flick moments, Dean squirmed closer to the comforting bulk that was Sam.
"He was just fucking me like I was a toy, and it hurt so bad, Sam. It was like my entire body was screaming, like there were hot pokers being shoved up my ass. And I was screaming so much, I swear that I was tearing my throat up and bringing up blood. And then after what seemed like fucking forever, Dad came inside me and just slumped there until he was convinced that he'd milked himself out and then he yanked his dick out. And that made the pain so much worse. And his come was dripping out of my ass and I fell to the ground and saw that there was blood mixed with it.
"Then Dad came back over and pulled me up from the ground. He shoved me onto the couch face-up and then called Mom over. He pushed her over to me and told her that she could have her way with me. And bear in mind, Sam, that my parents were fucking crazy. So she smiled and got up on the couch, standing so that her feet were on either side of my body. Then she lowered herself down, bit by bit. Then she was laying against my body and scooched up so that her breasts were right above my mouth. My dad was sitting in his armchair again, and he ordered me to pleasure Mom. So she shoved her chest in my face and I had to lick at one of her breasts till she was moaning and grinding against me and then I had to do the same to the other one. And I'm sorry, Sammy, but I kinda liked it despite myself, being a horny twelve-year-old. And despite the pain, I liked it." Dean sniffed as a few tears ran down his face. "I'm sorry, Sammy. You must think I'm a creepy whore kid for liking that."
Sam shushed Dean and hugged him close. "Never, Dean. I'd never hate you for that. It's not your fault."
"That's not even the worst part," Dean hiccupped. "Then she lowered herself back down my body and sat up on my thighs. She bent over my dick and started to suck it. And I moaned like a fucking whore, and I looked over to see that Dad was hard again and was stroking himself, letting out his own moans and sighs. We were all doing it and I was fucking Mom's mouth and Mom was moaning around my dick and Dad was fucking into his own hand. Then Mom got off my cock and then stood up again. She was so wet and aroused, she dripped onto me. That did nothing to ease the erection that Mom had given me." Dean shuddered. "Well, that sounds sick."
He continued. "Then she grabbed my cock and held it up and then she lowered herself down onto me slowly. And I moaned like a porn star when I felt her around me. Oh, god, Sam," Dean choked out, "I sound like a sick fuck. But I enjoyed it, Sam. I'm so sorry!"
Sam swallowed and hugged Dean quietly. "It's not your fault," he repeated. "You were forced into it and got caught up in perfectly human feelings."
"And then-" Dean paused to swallow the growing lump in his throat, "then she started to move up and down on my dick, riding me like a pro. And she was. She was moaning and writhing on me, and I started to thrust into her, into my mother, and she grabbed my hand and dragged it to play with her clitoris. I was fondling my own mom and then she bent over me and forced her left breast into my mouth. I was so caught up in the sheer pleasure of it all that I just said 'fuck it all' and used my free hand to play with her other nipple while I sucked the left one. I dared to look over at Dad and saw that he was fucking into his hand so hard, and he was just staring at Mom all bent out over me, riding me like I was a prize stallion. And it felt so fucking good.
"It was only another minute or so until I came inside of her, fucking up into her and screaming around her nipple, biting down so that she screamed too and she was squeezing and convulsing around my dick, both of us coming hard. Dad was last, letting go with a low, hoarse growl. And we all lay there for a few minutes, with me still weakly thrusting into Mom and she let out a groan every time my soft cock struck a sweet spot inside her."
"Was it over?" Sam asked sadly, stroking Dean's face.
Dean shook his head. "No. Then Dad came over and pulled Mom off of me, carrying her in his arms bridal style. He put her down on the ottoman in front of the armchair and told her to kneel there like a good whore. Then he picked me up - I was still limp - and sat me down at the armchair. For a moment, he just turned around and captured her mouth in a kiss, with her reaching down to stroke his dick to hardness for the third time that night. Then he turned and kissed me. And Mom got up and pushed the ottoman over so that Dad moved out of the way and Mom was kneeling in front of me. Dad moved over to behind Mom and pushed her head to my dick. And she started to suck again, crawling over my body so that she was on her hands and knees. Dad's eyes went wide and he smiled wickedly at me before he lifted Mom's ass and thrust into it. Not even her vagina, just her ass like she was a piece of crap.
"Mom moaned and the vibrations went through her mouth to my dick, and I moaned loudly before I thrust all the way into her mouth, feeling my tip knock against the back of her throat. At the same time, Dad slammed into Mom's ass and she rocked forward, forcing my dick farther down her throat. I groaned before I came for the second time that night, shooting down her throat. Dad filled Mom too, both of us fucking into her so that she was on a seesaw of pleasure."
Dean swallowed. "About three weeks later, Mom found out that she was pregnant. The only person that had been able to do that was me."
"Oh, Dean," Sam sighed. "What happened then?"
"Dad was proud of me, the sick fuck that he was. He treated me to my first beer." Dean shook his head. "Eight months later, my mom gave birth to a baby girl. My daughter and half-sister. I was thirteen by then and I was already a father."
"You have a daughter?" Sam asked quietly.
"She had the brighest green eyes and little blond curls," Dean whispered wistfully. "But Mom didn't really take care of her, and Dad kept looking at her as the next whore he'd use as soon as she was old enough. So I did what I had to do and gave her away for adoption. I don't know who or where she is. But I guess it's for the best, right?"
"Yes," Sam said softly, his hazel eyes wide and forgiving. "Dean-"
Dean shook his head. "Don't talk about it. I just wish-" He looked away as his voice hitched. "I just wish that I could get them back for everything. They kept using me for sex until I ran one night and went to live with my best friend Ash in his apartment. I was eighteen. I ended up going to school as a mechanic...and then I met you." He smiled weakly. "So I guess I wouldn't have met you unless all of this had happened."
Sam frowned thoughtfully. "Dean, we're going to find them. And I swear to god, I'll kill them. I don't care what happens, Dean, but what they did to you...it's unnatural and wrong on so many levels. So I'm going whether you come with me or not. And I'm going to make them pay." He started to get out of the bed; it was nine AM by then.
Dean whimpered and threw his arms around Sam's muscled torso, tackling him back to the mattress. "Not right now, Sammy," he pleaded. "I just need you to hold me right now."
"Of course," Sam murmured, carding his fingers through Dean's spiky hair. "I can always hold you."