Title: Mousse

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Words: 845

Genre: Angst/Romance

Summary: Alastair wanted Dean more than a child wanted an ice cream sundae heaping with whipped cream and cherries. However, he knew that his skin would taste better than sugar. Slave AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

"Please."

As if one word would change his situation.

"It's all right, Dean. I trust you." Alastair had the smile of a serpent.

Dean was nearly hyperventilating. All doubts that this was really happening had vanished. This was all too real. He had been sold and bought and now...

There was the sound of a zipper unzipping and one glance confirmed that Alastair was already hard.

Dean was struck speechless as he lay on the verge of losing it completely. He knew what the bastard wanted. Though he was a complete stranger to sucking cock. He had heard of dumb guys doing things like that to each other in some sort of hazing rituals at college. Dean hadn't gone to college.

When Dean looked up, Alastair responded with a sneer.

"Go on. It will...please me."

Dean's first task would be to get him off. Just like the whore he now was. Suddenly, he felt an irrational pang of guilt at all the porn he had seen in his life. But, then again, he and guilt went hand in hand. Dean had never dreamed that one day he would be in the same position.

At his hesitation, Alastair hooked his fingers into his yanked on the back of his head. The threat was out in the open.

"Don't keep me waiting now," Alastair hissed in his ear. "It's rude."

So, Dean reluctantly took him in his mouth while wrestling with the urge to vomit all over the bed onto the silken wine red sheets. While sucking, Dean closed his eyes and tried to imagine that he was sucking on the straw of juice pouch, but the mental picture didn't help very much. When Alastair eventually emptied himself into his mouth, it didn't taste like fruit juice. Dean wanted to desperately spit the foul liquid out, but he knew that Alastair would want him to swallow, and he didn't want to piss him off. Dean gagged as he managed to do so.

Immediately, he turned his head to the side out of shame and disgust. At himself. Had he always been so easy? So easy to victimize?

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Alastair chuckled.

"Sick fuck," Dean mumbled under his breath.

But, to Dean's horror, Alastair wasn't finished. Did he expect that he would be? He cried out in surprise as he was rolled onto his stomach. It wasn't long until Dean felt invading agony as Alastair breached his delicate defenses, and he stifled the urge to cry out as he felt Alastair's length stretch and flex his body.

"Pain is unfortunately a gurantee the first time. You'll get used to it in time. I promise."

Dean never wanted to get used to it. He clawed the sheets like an abused cat as he endured the older man's thrusts. Dean had never felt so helpless. It took all his self control not to break down on the spot.

"There," Alastair sighed contentedly. "Pure as a little snowflake."

Dean didn't know how to retort to that comment. He was shutting down.

It seemed as if hours passed when Alastair at last withdrew from him like a sword. He had lost track of time. Dean hissed in pain as he collapsed on his side. Through the soreness, he could feel something leaking. Blood...or something else. Dean never wanted to get up again. In time, he felt Alastair's weight left the bed. He shivered when Alastair's fingers combed through his hair.

"Don't worry your pretty head, Dean. Everything will be taken care of. As long as you do as I say of course."

Dean forced himself not to bawl. The tears were building fast. Too fast.

Alastair was still talking. "There's a bathroom through that door. Toilet, shower, and sink. It will more than likely take care of all of your needs."

Dean waited until he heard the door click closed for the sobs to be released as he curled up in the fetal position; desperately trying to recover.

Today just was not his lucky day.

Alastair found himself humming a happy tune.

Dean had practically been a virgin by his standards, and he had surrendered so gracefully. So beautifully. As exquisite as a swan with a broken wing.

As a flower would at dusk, his pet had folded inside himself, but his petals would open again. If not, Alastair would simply pry them open one by one.

Alastair walked into the kitchen with a confident stride where he found Meg in the middle of her usual routine.

He cleared his throat. "One lobster tail entrée. It's for my newest acquisition."

"Lobster tail?" she repeated. Meg frowned.

"And something special for dessert? Perhaps chocolate mousse?"

She nodded. "Of course. Making a good impression, are we? Someone must be in love."

Alastair allowed himself a brittle smile. "He's a special treasure. I can tell."

Meg's smile was unreadable as her eyes went back to her work. "I can't wait to meet him."

Her quick lethal fingers continued to cut the carrots for the evening's salads into vicious shreds.