Title: Cheesecake

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Words: 1,183

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.


Dean was forced to endure two more introductions before he was ushered inside where he was nearly devoured by the flashy atmosphere. Crystal chandeliers hung high above his head, and Ming vases were at his feet. Ivy spilled down several free standing ivory columns. The flowers overflowed the tables. There was even a tropical fish tank against the far wall.

It was pretty safe to assume that the owner of this were obscently fucking rich.

"I'm going to leave you here. You may eat and socialize. Now, while I'm away, don't get any ideas. I have other business to attend to." Alastair whispered in his ear.

In truth, Dean was ravenous. He hadn't eaten anything since he was first abducted and he was starting to feel a deep ache of hunger gnawing at his gut.

Making himself as inconspicuous as he cold, Dean did his best to blend in with the crowd as he approached the buffet tables.

Here, Dean was awed that he was presented with any kind food he could think of. The tables nearly bucked under trays of shrimp cocktails, roast beef, chunks of melon chilling over ice, cheese cubes, crab legs, and more. There were also several soups including French onion and lobster bisque. For dessert, there was strawberry shortcake, cheesecake, and éclairs just for starters. There was even a chocolate fountain. Dean immediately grabbed a plate and served himself taking care not to make eye contact. The "slave" didn't want to cause problems. It's not as if anyone would help him anyway.

As he sat down at a vacant table, Dean reminded himself that he wasn't here to enjoy the cuisine. He needed his strength to fuel his muscles in the form of fat and calories. Nothing more. But, then again, he might as well make the most of a bad situation.

The food was delicious. In no time at all, he had polished his entire plate clean. After a second or so of deliberation, he decided that he would go for seconds. What the hell.

Dean sighed deeply as he sliced into a delectable cheesecake. After setting in on the bone china, he dug his fork into the dessert and took a bite. As expected, it was delicious. Beginning to feel pathetic, Dean popped another bite in his mouth. Food couldn't solve his problems, but it could help.

"Boy?"

Dean was so startled he almost dropped the plate. Azazel was calling him. His name was not boy, lad, or bitch. Under normal circumstances, Dean would ignore him, but here, he didn't have much of a choice. Dean could've sworn that Azazel's eyes nearly flashed yellow as he reluctantly drifted towards him.

"So, what's your story, lad?"

"I'm a car mechanic or was. I was also starting to go to college night classes for a degree. Then, I ended up as someone's bitch." Dean wasn't even trying to joke as he recited his life history.

Azazel threw head back and laughed. "Like life in general, eh?"

For Dean, the situation was less than amusing.

"Alastair keeps to himself too much. He's such a hardass, but he's definitely master material. I don't know if you consider yourself lucky or not."

Dean didn't, and he vocalized as much.

"You should all be in cells at the local prison being played around with men who can fight back." The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back.

Dean watched Azazel's smile turned cold and knew that he took a step too far.

"You're in our world now. Here's a word of advice: Alastair isn't going to let you mouth off without consequence, kid."

Dean stonily watched Azazel sip more of his cognac. He just wanted to get away. Escape. He needed to escape.

"You should mellow out more. Go to the bar." Azazel motioned to the structure. "It's fully stocked. Alcohol often makes matters easier, doesn't it?"

Dean sensed the end of conversation and thankfully turned away with not even a smile.

"And Dean?"

He froze; dread rooting his feet to the floor.

My offer still stands. Alastair is too greedy sometimes." Azazel actually winked.

A threesome? Like hell.

Dean took a retreating step backwards. He'd have a problem on his hand if he was serious.

Azazel grinned. "I'm joking! Don't worry."

"I won't," Dean snapped.

As tempting as it would be to get totally smashed, he couldn't dull his wits. He needed all of his senses to be sober and alert if he wanted the chance his escape.

So, Dean waited at the edges of the room. Laughter floated in his direction every now and then. There was no sign of Alastair. His master seemed to have forgotten he'd existed.

This was the moment. He could feel it. Dean cautiously searched the room. Alastair was nowhere to be seen. Good. He only needed a minute of two...

Dean took a deep breath as he scurried to a doorway and slipped inside the hallway. There was no turning back now, and Dean knew he had to make every second count.

He rushed past the paintings adorning the snow white walls until he eventually came to an atrium with an ornate gilded fountain under the skylight. Dean could hear the water gushing in the porcelain basin as he closed his eyes. Dean was thankful for the crimson plush carpeting his footsteps; it didn't make a sound under his shoes. He knew that he could hide anywhere, but what he really needed was an exit. Maybe luck would be on his side.

"Sir? Sir!"

Alarmed, he turned to see two suited goons trailing after him. Dean broke into a cold sweat. He'd been spotted.

Desperately, he ran into another corridor. He wasn't going back. Dean followed the hallway until he ran into another one. His progress had been blocked. Dean paused in shock, and one moment was all it took for him to be tackled to the ground.

He struggled and fought like a demon, but the men had already pinned his arms behind his back. Dean had been immobilized. He wasn't getting out of here. In desperation, he made a sound wounded animal. It was so unfair.

Great. Now, Dean felt like his head would squash like a grape under the weight of the merciless boot on his cheek. After what seemed like hours, Dean heard something awful.

"Ah. There you are."

That voice.

He looked up to see Alastair elegantly holding a martini. Though his smile was genial, his eyes were cruel.

"Well, boy. I can see that you're going to be a handful." However, Alastair seemed pleased as punch about this.

Feeling as low as a whipped dog, Dean watched him turned to address the gathering throng of people. "I'm sorry, friends. I must cut this party short. My slave's behavior must be corrected, I'm afraid."

Dean noticed Azazel and caught his eye. The older man's expression was unreadable.

He began to shudder when he thought about what might await him at home. Dean had blown it. He'd blown perhaps his only chance of escape.

Fuck.