Disclaimer: As much as I loathe to admit it, I own nothing. Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and people much better than I, and I don't even own the song. The following is completely fictional. No profit is being made.

Summary: Songfic. Dean is waylaid by an unexpected late night visitor. Rated M. Warnings for M/M - don't like, don't read. Simple as.

Author's Notes: The song featured is 'For Your Entertainment' by American Idol 8 runner up, Adam Lambert - be sure to check him out, he rocks! All mistakes are my own. Reviews are muchly appreciated. Enjoy!

For Your Entertainment

***

No escaping when I start
Once I'm in I own your heart
There's no way to ring the alarm
So hold on until it's over

***

Dean felt his attacker rummaging around under the pillow near his head, every instinct screaming at him to fight as it dawned on him what the stranger was looking for:

His damn knife.

Attempting to buck his hips to dislodge the man's suffocating weight, Dean growled in frustration at how immovable the man seemed to be. Knees digging roughly into his hips to keep him under control, Dean all too quickly found himself on the wrong side of his own blade. The sharp, jagged edge was brought swiftly to his throat where it rested steadily upon his vulnerable skin.

Unable to even breathe for fear of cutting his own throat, the elder Winchester trembled as once again he felt the stranger's hot breath upon his face.

'Do you yield to me, Dean Winchester?'

Forcing air into his protesting lungs, Dean swallowed quickly, ignoring the bite of the blade at his throat.

'Never, you son of a bitch! Never…'

***

Oh!
Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I'm about to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here For Your Entertainment

***

Dean's fervent reply was met simply with another soft chuckle, the sound starting to grate on the fraying ends of his nerves. He couldn't control the shiver that assailed him as the knife moved delicately across his throat, scraping gently over several days worth of ignored stubble.

It continued its journey to the neckline of his shirt, tearing through the useless fabric as the blade changed direction and swept down the hunter's chest with a careless speed. Dean was certain that it should have left a mark but was yet to feel any telltale pain.

He was surprised to hear the thump of his knife on the bed, seemingly discarded, as cool fingers traced along the torn fabric and down his smooth, hairless chest. Dean gave a strangled cry of disgust as he felt his body betray him, his breath quickening at the almost worshipful touching. Screwing his eyes shut tightly behind the blindfold, he tried to think of a million horrible things to keep his downstairs brain occupied as searching hands pushed his torn shirt away and investigated his body.

The stranger traced the contours of the prone hunter's chest, fingers lingering here and there as he watched Dean silently fighting his touch. A knowing smile touched his lips as he moved one hand to circle the hunter's nipple, rubbing, pinching and teasing until it stood proud and errect before him.

Dean had to bite his lip to keep the groan of pleasure to himself. He couldn't quite understand it - one minute the guy was practically trying to rape him and the next he was treating him like a god? And to make matters worse he was actually starting to enjoy it... What the hell was wrong with him?

Slightly chapped lips covered his other nipple with a gentle kiss, the slight caress of a tongue stealing its tender taste banishing all coherent thoughts from his brain. The stranger changed tactics, switching from lips to teeth, and back again, as he covered Dean's body in a mixture of torturously sexy bites and skin-tingling kisses. Dean felt himself grow hard at the relentless onslaught, his pulse racing.

'Wait...' he gasped finally in a desperate attempt to catch his breath, completely overwhelmed by the assault to his senses. 'Wait!'

Begrudgingly, the soft kisses that were being trailed down the full length of the hunter's body paused in their descent, a soft sigh of frustration heard from the stranger as he righted himself.

'Yes?' a deep, husky voice enquired politely.

Dean was unable to think for a moment, too caught up in his own confusion. Again, if this was supposed to be an attack then why the hell was he enjoying it? And why, when asked to stop, did his attacker actually comply, for hell's sake?

'Let me see your face...' It wasn't a question, really, it was an order. Dean needed to know who was in charge here.

'I don't think that's-'

'Show me your face.'

There was an uncomfortable pause in which Dean wondered if he'd gone too far. This could very easily turn from pleasure back to pain, the earlier strength of his attacker still fresh in his mind. But he needed to know.

Cool fingers stroked his face, deliberating for a moment before his makeshift blindfold was pulled free from his eyes.

Blinking rapidly in the low light from the bedside lamp, Dean found his attacker's face and could only stare at the man straddling him in disbelief.

'C-Cas?'