CHAPTER 9: REALITY BITES: DEAN'S POV


"So, did you enjoy your day off, Dean? Because I certainly did."

There was no mistaking that sibilant growl, and the finger that trailed down the side of my face was way too familiar, too.

"Alistair. You fuck."

"Now, is that any way to talk to me?" His hand drifted lower, sharp nails teasing one of my nipples. "And after I was so nice to you."

"Fuck you."

"You enjoyed the stripper, didn't you, Dean?" He leaned in close, breath fanning my ear, and his fingers started working their way down my belly. "The time with your little brother?" He gripped my cock, and it felt like frozen bones curled around my shaft as he pressed his body up against mine. "It could be like that every day," he whispered, and I felt his lips brush my ear. "All you have to do is say that one little word."

"Fuck. You."

He morphed into the stripper, and now that hand was warm and soft, the breath smelled sweet, and firm breasts were flattened against my chest. Her tongue traced the line of my jaw, and I reminded myself that this was Alistair, or one of his minions, maybe.

But why fight it? How often did I get to feel something good in Hell?

So I let my dick get hard, and she dropped to her knees, and despite the change in scenery, her mouth was no less talented than it had been the first time Alistair let her have me.

She had one hand curled around the base of my cock, the other stroking my balls, and I relaxed into it with a groan.

"This, every day. Is that a 'yes', Dean?"

All I'd have to do was torture other souls.

"No." I tensed when I said it, expecting the woman to turn back into a demon, or maybe a hellhound, and rip my dick off with its teeth.

Instead the feeling changed, became hotter, wetter, the movements more rapid and deep. I opened my eyes.

Sam knelt at my feet, those soft brown eyes staring up at me like I was a god, my cock disappearing down his muscular throat.

I felt the jolt in my groin, and my fingers flexed, wanting to tangle in his soft girl-hair, stroke through it, pull him up so I could bury my tongue in his mouth and tell him how much I loved him.

"How about this, then?" Not-Sam worked my cock like a pro while Alistair's whisper scalded my ear. "Sammy, every day for eternity. All I'll ask for is one soul, Dean. You start one soul in the morning, and you don't even have to finish it." His fingernails scraped along the skin of my ass, and despite my hatred for the son of a bitch, I trembled. "Give me say, one hour out of every twenty-four, and the rest can be with Sam, doing whatever your little heart desires."

I wanted to say 'yes'. No more getting skinned. No more body parts cut, torn, or bitten off. No more having my belly sliced open and rats or snakes or spiders or fire pressed inside.

No more of the fantasies and head games like they'd done to me today.

No more of the other head games they'd played with me, like seeing Sammy on the rack, begging Alistair not to hurt him even though I knew it wasn't really Sam, couldn't really be Sam.

But what if I said 'yes', and Alistair brought the real Sam to me? What if my weakness landed my brother in Hell, brought here to fulfill Alistair's end of the bargain? I couldn't live with that.

"You think a blow job is worth more than your brother's life?" My father had asked me that. Seemed like a long time ago.

Every day I thought about that. Worried about it. They knew Sam was my weakness. Knew if they gave me a choice between torturing souls and watching my brother be torn apart, that I'd be off this rack in a heartbeat. Every time they slapped Sammy's face on some demon scum, I almost broke.

Not Sammy. Never Sammy. I couldn't risk it.

"Shove it up your ass, Alistair."

And I was face down on a bare mattress in an old house, but this time it wasn't Jeff and some guys I'd met playing pool holding me down, it was my father, and Bobby, and Sonny. And if I could have looked behind me - if the shirt that had been fastened into a bridle and jammed into my mouth wasn't wrenching my neck back so hard it felt like my spine would snap - I know I would have seen Alistair kneeling between my spread thighs.

I started screaming before he even touched me, knowing that soon I wouldn't be able to, because he wasn't just going to fuck me. As excruciatingly painful and humiliating as that was, it was never enough for Alistair. He'd rip my ass apart with his cock, hammering my guts in mush, and his cum would be acid, or fire, and burn me from the inside out. Or his dick would turn into a claw, or a fanged snake, and tear me apart all the way to my throat.

And I knew I was minutes away from inhaling my vomit, then choking on my own blood, but until then, I'd keep screaming, and it would be the same word over and over:

"No."