Sam strode down to the torture chamber where the screams of souls echoed. He turned to walk to the largest chamber, gates decorated with black vines that twisted in all sorts. A wave of his hand and they swung open soundlessly.

The Torture Master's head shot up, teeth bared in a snarl ready to spear the person who dared to disturb him; he only enjoyed an audience when he asked for it. His scowl faded when he saw the tall man in the white suit, snarl turning into a grin.

"Sammy, come to watch?"

"Don't let me stop you," he answered, snapping his fingers and sitting on the plush chair that appeared behind him. The gates closed again and the soul that was spread out on a table squirmed, trying to see who the visitor was.

Dean glared at him, but said nothing and allowed him to crane his neck. "Like what you see?"

The tortured man snapped back his head to Dean and trembled as the Torture Master raised an eyebrow down at him.

"Well? I haven't cut out your tongue yet."

Sam smirked; trick question. Should the poor soul say no, Dean would hack into him for implying Sam wasn't perfect. Should he say yes, Dean would still hack into him because no one was allowed to want him.

No one but Dean.

The soul shook before finally answering. "Am I allowed to like?" he finally choked out.

Sam's eyebrows raised and Dean's head tilted, surprised. "Good answer, never got that one before."

The man's chest heaved a bit from relief. "For that, you can keep your dick. I'll just carve your balls." A scream rang through the chamber before Dean even picked up his knife.

Sam crossed his legs, leaning back as he watched Dean carve out the human body like it was marble and he was the sculptor. Blood ran in rivulets down his pale skin, painting him. When no skin was left to be drawn on, his brother snapped his fingers. The screaming stopped, the man was whole, and Dean began his work again on a new canvas.

The feral, hungry look in Dean's eyes slowly quelled as he worked. His skilled hands swept up weapons from his tray, picking up the right one without even looking, twirling them in his hands with ease and practice before swiftly and delicately slicing open the skin.

Finally, he set down his blade and sent the soul out without healing him, to let him suffer for what he did to be there in the first place.

Dean didn't turn to his little brother, instead he busied himself with cleaning his weapons, letting Sam look at him. And Sam certainly did.

He took in the way his muscles rippled across his back as he bent to retrieve the empty bottles of what probably previously contained oil, how his pants stretched when he moved around to put the buckles on the table back in place.

His bare back was sweaty and covered in grime and dirt, almost as if he'd done nothing but work on a car. Sam got up and went to stand behind him, pressing his chest to Dean's back and wrapping his arms around his big brother's waist, nuzzling his neck.

Dean turned around and Sam rubbed his nose against Dean's. Dean smiled, amused. "Something you want?"

"Kiss me, jerk."

The Torture Master claimed Sam's lips, a movement so gentle and loving no one would have thought it possible that the man who caused others pain could be tender. But Dean was only like that with Sam, with his precious little brother.

Sam hungrily licked his way into Dean's mouth, running his hands over Dean's hard chest, coating his palms in sweat and blood. Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's neck, placing him in the crook of his arm and tugging him down so Dean was the only thing that kept him from falling.

He flattened himself against Sam, tightening his grip around his neck and dominating his mouth, tongue sucking on his. Sam moaned and bucked, trying to get more of Dean, and of course, he gave in.

Dean let Sam manhandle him onto the torture table. A snap of his fingers and their clothes gone, before Sam climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and kissing him with an undeniable, burning passion.

"Wanna fuck me, baby boy? Huh?" Dean asked once Sam's mouth moved to his neck and his hand began moving down below his balls.

Sam hummed, intent on licking the salt off Dean's skin, biting and pulling.

"Go on, Sammy. Know how much of a slut you are. Bet you were going through reports and all you could think about was fucking me, weren't you?"

Sam whimpered; Dean was right to the letter.

"Go on, baby. I want you too, wanna feel your thick cock stretching me wide, want you inside me, fucking me hot and dirty…"

A keening sound escaped Sam's throat before he moved to finger Dean's hole, fingers coated with lube with a single click of the tongue. He put in another, then another, Dean groaning and pushing against Sam's hand before the King of Hell finally pressed the head of his cock to Dean's opening.

"Fuck me, Sam, fuck your older brother on his work table."

Sam's hips stuttered forward before driving his cock straight into Dean, hitting his prostate dead on. A cry escaped Dean's lips and his short nails dug into Sam's shoulder, egging him on.

He fucked Dean slow and hot, moving his head to Dean's neck. Winking his eye to make his teeth grow into pointed fangs for a just a second, he sank them into his brother's neck. The fangs disappeared and he fastened his mouth around the wound as thick, red blood flowed out.

"Drink up, baby, gotta keep my King good and strong, don't I?" Dean gasped, somehow still managing to control Sam even when he was bottoming. And Sam would be lying if he said he didn't love it.

His tongue ran over the broken skin, drinking down the liquid that oozed through. His hips moved slowly but surely, letting Dean feel every moment but he sped his movements as he lapped up his brother's warm, sweet blood.

He didn't even drink from normal demons anymore, it was only Dean. Nothing, absolutely nothing compared to his big brother's blood. He rammed Dean's prostate now, moving a hand to wrap around his brother's cock.

Dean's moans increased before Sam felt hot come spurt over his fist. Dean's arms wrapped around Sam's shoulders as he tilted his neck even more, running a hand through Sam's hair.

"Go on, sweetheart, go on…"

Sam whimpered, mouth falling from Dean's neck and hips jerking before he felt himself release, come filling Dean's hole. Stars burst in his vision and he felt his muscles shuddering as he rode out his high, licking the few drops of blood that came out from Dean's clotting wound.

His arms that braced himself above Dean gave out with the intensity of his orgasm and he fell onto Dean, who wrapped Sam tightly in his arms, cooing to him as Sam trembled, stroking his sweaty hair and talking him through the aftershocks.

They cuddled for a while, Sam's nuzzling Dean's neck and breathing in his scent and Dean running his fingers through Sam's hair and rubbing his back and side.

"Baby boy, we gotta get up," Dean said gently, when he felt Sam's breathing slow. "Don't want you sleeping on this table."

Sam hmphed but sat up slowly, letting Dean get up and ease Sam to his feet. "Come on, my King," he said teasingly, pulling him down the hallway to their bed chamber.

His little brother placed all of his weight on Dean, who supported him easily and said groggily, "Yes, Master."

Dean felt a thrill at those words; he'd have to remember them the next time Sam came to watch him work.