*
-Sam's story-
*
Sam closes his cell phone gently and places it on the desk in front of him.
He takes in a deep breath and then another, pinching his nose between his eyes to stop the throbbing in his head, a throbbing that goes by the name of Dean.
WHAM!
He slams his fist into the wooden table in front of him, anger seething through him. Stupid, stupid!
Dean didn't sleep with that girl! Damn it! Why couldn't he have just told Sam the truth last night instead of letting him believe-
Sam sets his jaw angrily, gritting his teeth so hard, they ache. He knows why.
Because if any situation even hints at someone else having the slightest bit of control, Dean freaks out and starts being stupid. So Dean was jealous? That gave Sam clout, power over Dean, at least in Dean's eyes, so Sam had to be put in his place, taken down a peg or two so that he bends to Dean's will and understands who's in control here.
And last night, Dean had bent him Sam so far that he'll never be the same. Dean showed Sam parts of himself he'd just as soon not know existed, like his obsessive, possessive love for Dean and how savage Sam can become when that's threatened.
Sam never knew his feelings ran that deep and it scares the shit out of him, even now, knowing that Dean has that kind of power over him. No one should be able to make another person feel that bad, not ever.
And Dean did it deliberately. He had known, somehow, the depths of Sam's feelings and made it his business to bring Sam down, to crush him…just so Dean could keep control. Dean can manipulate him so easily, melting him with a heated look, making him steamy with a simple touch, or the low drawl of his deep voice.
Sam had to leave, for his own sanity, to get away from this huge thing between him and Dean, for his own peace of mind. He can't go back, either. There'll be nothing left of him if he goes back.
Sam rubs his jaw, wondering about Dean's second message. What did he mean about being forgiven, and wanting the slate wiped clean? Does that mean Dean wants...no, Dean doesn't mean that...he's just talking shit, that's all. Sam dismisses it with a toss of his head.
The last message Dean left made his heart hurt. Sam misses him, too but not enough to go back. Sam will never be an equal partner in Dean's eyes because Dean'll never willingly give up control and Sam doesn't think he can live with that.
Sam needs some of that power. His own sense of self depends on it. And he won't go back until Dean is willing to share it.
*
Sam hadn't even gotten any of Dean's messages until this morning. When the trucker had dropped him off, he'd checked into a room and dropped like a stone, emotionally and physically exhausted, not even hearing his phone ring during the night. He'd seen three calls from his brother when he woke up but deliberately didn't listen to them until he showered and dressed.
He was glad he waited. It would have just pissed him off earlier.
Ok, he needs a car and then he's going back to that bar to check on Dean's story. Not that he doesn't believe his brother but…well, he doesn't believe his brother.
Sam calls a rental car place and arranges to pick one up. He hitches a ride and as soon as he gets wheels, speeds back to Gina's bar to find out the truth. She's there and surprisingly honest with him, telling him the same thing Dean said, almost word for word and apologizing for getting in between them.
Sam shakes his head at her before he leaves, "Not your fault."
He grabs some lunch and heads back to his motel just as his phone rings.
Dean.
Sam can't talk to him now. Not yet. He's tired of fighting.
He lays down on the bed, flipping on the television, thumbing through channels absent-mindedly, his mind on his brother. He really missed waking up with him, too. He misses the early morning cuddling which usually led to…other things. Thinking of those other things makes his chest tighten and his dick stir in his pants.
He rubs his hand on his growing erection, picturing Dean's face beneath him, those green eyes smiling up at him, those lips, that lean, hard body pressing into him…
Sam closes his eyes, feeling himself slipping down into dreamland, where Dean waits for him and there is no fighting, no anger, just him and Dean…
*
Sam jolts awake, heart pounding, covered in sweat.
Holy hell, what a dream, Dean and erotic and sensual and-
Sam reaches down to feel the wet in his crotch. Great! He just came in his sleep.
He pushes back the blanket and cleans himself up, glancing at the clock. Wow, almost 8:00! He's slept most of the day away. He hears the sound from his phone signaling a voice mail and gives a deep sigh.
He really should see what Dean wants. It's been fun hiding but it's time to face reality again.
*
Sam sits, listening to the messages with his jaw hanging open, unable to believe what he's just heard.
Dean wants Sam to punish him. Dean wants Sam to-
A small smile works its way around his lips. Well, isn't this just an interesting turn of events? Here he was just thinking about wanting some control and Dean's just handing it over to him on a silver platter.
This could be good, really good, if Sam does it right. Thing is, he's still so pissed about the whole thing that he may end up going too far. But, if Dean can take it, it may be just what they need.
Sam would have to set the tone right away and not let it go. He walks through how it needs to go in his head, sure that Dean will stonewall him before he gets to finish the job. But, if Dean allows it, goes along with it and lets Sam lead him, Sam's sure he can get Dean where he's asking to go.
Suddenly more hopeful than he has a right to be, Sam figures he's gonna need a couple of things…
He takes up the phone book, looking for a sporting goods store in the area.
Maybe, just maybe, they can still fix this.
*
Sam gets Dean's last message and shows up at Gina's bar around ten o'clock. He stays in the background, watching his brother, wondering if he's gonna have enough courage to carry this thing out for Dean, for them.
He has to find the courage.
For one thing, Dean asked for his help. That must have been like swallowing glass for him, to not only go to a spanking session but also to have it not work, not give him what he needed and to have to admit that to a brother who no longer wants anything to do with him. If Dean had that kind of courage, the least Sam can do is buck up his own and help him.
Sam needs to keep his tone authoritative and Dean can't look at him, at all, or Sam may lose whatever dominance he will have over Dean. It has to be about Dean doing everything that Sam asks him to. He can't allow even one thing to slide or Dean won't be in the right mind-set to accept the punishment he's asked Sam to give him.
It's good that Dean thinks Sam is gone and is broken up about it. It'll keep him off balance and easier to lead if Dean has no defenses up.
He watches Dean sink lower and lower into beer-soaked sadness, looking more miserable by the second as time passes and he, Sam, doesn't come.
Sam deliberately waits another twenty minutes before standing, right at the moment the fight breaks out at the pool table. It gives him the perfect opportunity to approach Dean without his brother seeing.
Right when Dean stands up to help stop the fight, Sam comes up behind where he's sitting and reaches out to pull him back onto the bar stool with a firm hand. He stops Dean from turning around and knows when Dean says "Yes, sir" that he's got his brother right where he wants him.
Let the games begin.
*
-Dean's spanking-
*
Sam's pretty impressed. Dean's got a hell of a pain tolerance.
He's already laid twenty or so hard-as-he-can slaps on Dean's ass but his brother hasn't said a word, barely a sound even, just keeps clenching his ass cheeks after every swat and letting his breath hiss out from between his gritted teeth. He's raising a nice pink color on Dean's hind quarters but nothing like it's gonna be by the time he gets done.
Sam figures it's time to raise the heat a little.
As fast as he can, he delivers twenty hard smacks, the sound of his hand on his brother's ass loud as gunshots cracking in the air, first to one cheek and then the other, not giving Dean a chance to even settle between slaps.
At first, Dean lays on his elbows tensely, head down, muscles bunched up, but towards about the seventeenth smack, he grabs for the bed rail, scooting forward, trying to get away, clenching his ass in, digging his crotch into Sam's legs to escape the rock-hard hand that just keeps falling without mercy.
Sam gives a little smile. Now he's getting Dean's attention.
When Sam finally stops for a second, Dean collapses, breathing in a shuddering gasp, his body rigid, trembling.
Wordlessly, Sam reaches over and tugs Dean's hands off the bed rail then pulls him back down into place and begins again with the twenty slow slaps, hitting methodically, rhythmically, relentlessly.
This is what Dean asked for and this is what Sam promised to give him.
Dean needs to give up and give in, release everything up to Sam's control. That's the only way Dean will ever reach that place and find the healing he's so desperate for.
Plus, beating his brother's ass is helping Sam get over his own anger at Dean. It's a win-win, even though Dean probably isn't seeing things that way right now.
And when this is finally over, they're going to have a talk.
*
Jesus Christ!
Dean pants harshly, his lips and throat dry, trying to breath through the burning in his ass, totally unprepared for what's happening right now. He thought this would be like that session with the Chief, not too hard, not too painful and mistakenly told himself he could handle whatever Sam brought on.
The reality is that Sam's pissed off at him like never before and when Sam said he wasn't going to hold back, he wasn't kidding!
The slower spanking Sam started with was painful but it was a steady buildup and Dean probably could have handled that but the lightening round Sam just laid on his ass was like fire pelting his skin and towards the end, Dean was trying to crawl away, fighting to stop from hollering out loud.
He'll be damned before he gives Sam the satisfaction of making him yell. He's Dean Winchester and he can handle pain, yessiree, and nobody is gonna make him break, no matter how fucking much his ass hurts right now, he'll take whatever Sam gives him and keep his mouth shut, even if it kills him.
He's just thanking Christ that Sam's back on the slow smacks and the screaming in his backside has subsided to a dull roar.
Even the slow ones are getting harder to handle because Sam's whaling on him as hard as he can, driving each smack home, raising his hand high over his head and slamming it down to achieve maximum force, cracking across Dean's ass and thighs with a hand of stone, delivering welts of pain that slash and burn, making Dean's hips wriggle and roll, even though he tries like hell to stop himself from moving.
He asked for this. He deserves this.
He asked for this.
He deserves-
SHIT! This fucking HURTS!
He doesn't care if he deserves it 'cause all he wants to do right now is beat the shit out of Sam for doing this to him. If he could get loose, that's what he'd be doing right now. Fucking son of a bitch is a little too good at this!
Dean grabs the bed sheet in his hands, squeezing it tightly in his fingers, gritting his teeth as another smack hits him, the slash of pain coming a second later and he shuts his eyes tight against it, letting out his breath slowly, a small 'ahhh' on his exhale, the only sound he'll allow himself.
His muscles taut, trembling in reaction to the throb in his ass, he silently keeps count as Sam's hand comes down on him.
SMACK! Eighteen. "Ahhh…"
WHAP! Nineteen. "Ahhh…"
SLAP! Twenty. "Ahhh…"
Then, Sam starts with the non-stop slapping again, hitting him so fast and so hard that Dean loses count of how many times his brother's hand falls on him.
Dean can only hang on as Sam's hand cracks down on him again and again, coming too fast, the pain too intense, and the burn in his ass is building, building until it's firefirefire and Sam still isn't stopping, he just keeps fucking hitting and Dean grits his teeth so hard he thinks his jaw will crack, his grip on the sheet twisting it into a ball of sweat.
Without thought, Dean gets the toes of his shoes on the bed and he pushes off, moving himself up half a foot, straightening his arms so his back is arched up, trying to twist his ass away from that damn hard hand that just won't stop!
Finally, finally, Sam stops and Dean falls back onto his elbows, exhausted, wheezing now, the pain too much to breathe through, his ass end on fire, no longer stinging, it's gone to full fledged burning now and he's pretty sure he can't take anymore of this.
He feels Sam tug him back into position, laying his hand on the small of Dean's back to hold him down, and Sam starts again with the slow twenty.
Dean can't seem to hold his body still any longer, his head whips backward and his legs kick up with each smack of Sam's hard hand, the intense heat in his ass building up to melting point level.
SMACK! Nineteen…
WHACK! Twenty…oh, shit, here it comes again.
Dean can't do it, his ass hasn't recovered from the last time, it's too much and before he can stop himself, he hears his own voice snarling at his brother, "Don't you fucking do it, Sam!"
Surprised that Dean spoke, Sam pauses and then says coldly, "What'd you say to me?"
"I said, don't do it, you son of a bitch! Let me up. I've had enough."
"That's not up to you, Dean. I say when you've had enough and you aren't anywhere near there."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you, you smug bastard?"
"No, Dean, I'm not."
With that, Sam stops talking and starts slapping, laying into Dean's ass so hard and so fast that Dean is shoved forward with each smack. Dean can't stay still, his hips rolling from side to side, trying to get away from Sam's vicious blows but he can't, Sam's aim never waivers and Dean crosses his feet to squeeze his legs together, hoping to make a smaller target, maybe help with the pain but it doesn't and-
Holy Shit! It's too much!
He tries to push off the bed and get away but Sam's got an iron grip on him and he just keeps hitting and sweat breaks out on Dean's brow, he bites his lip hard enough to make it bleed and Sam keeps just fucking hitting-
The agony in his ass is his whole world, all he can see, all he can feel and-
Dean breaks, his stony silence, his firm resolve not to say a word shatters into a million pieces, scattering all around him, falling all over the floor and he starts yelping with each wallop, just like when he was a kid again over his Dad's knee and his feet are kicking the bed hard-
SMACK! "OWW!"
SLAP! "Sam, stop!"
WHAP! "OUCH, Shit!"
WHACK!
Then, to his own humiliation, Dean starts to beg, "Sammy, PLEASE!"
SLAP! SMACK!
"OWWW, SAM! Let me up, man…you gotta let me up!"
CRACK!
"SAM! SHIT! Man, I've had enough now, learned my lesson, I won't ever-"
SMACK!
"OUCH! FUCK! …Won't ever do it again, you gotta…you gotta let me go, Sam, PLEASE!"
Time to up the ante some.
Dean feels Sam pause behind him for a couple of seconds, rooting around on the bed, looking for something and Dean is enjoying the short reprieve.
He feels Sam move, knows what's coming next and Dean clenches his ass at the last second and the smack that reverberates through his body is worse, far worse than anything so far and Sam's got something, it's not his hand but something hard and biting and oh, shit, the pain flares and lasts forever, the throb never leaving, a hot reminder of where it just landed.
"OWWW! Sam! What the…what the fuck is that?"
Sam reaches over and pushes it in his face. It's a fucking ping-pong paddle, for Christ's sake, and Sam's using it on him, paddling him now and this is just too much, too frigging much and his brother just needs to stop now and let him go.
But Sam doesn't see it that way and starts smacking him with that damn paddle, one cheek at a time, slow and steady, but every time it lands on his skin, it scorches and bites, worse because it's on top of an already burning backside, the agony of each whack coming a full second after it hits, blooming late and sharp-
And this time, Sam's talking.
WHAP!
"Your behavior the past few days is unacceptable, Dean. You're acting like a snotty kid and this is how snotty kids get treated. They get their pants pulled down and get paddled like the little brats they are. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I'm…OWWW…sorry, Sam! I already…OWWW…told you how sorry I was!"
SMACK!
"Not sorry enough, Dean! You used that poor girl and used me, all to make yourself feel better!"
"I…OUCH!...AM! I AM sorry!"
CRACK!
"God damn it!"
"You lied to me, made me believe you slept with her when you didn't. You were only thinking about yourself and what you needed. You don't ever think about anyone else!"
SLAP!
"OUCH! You son of a BITCH! Let me UP!"
"You don't sound too sorry, Dean! But you will be!"
WHAP!
"Lemme GO, SAM! When I get…OWW…the fuck up, I'm so kicking your ass, you BITCH!"
SMACK!
"Oh, I'm the bitch? Really?"
WHAP!
Dean tried to get his hands free, ripping into his wrists with the rope, trying to tear it off, even using his teeth to see if he could work it so he could get the hell out of here. Nothing!
He throws his legs to the side, trying to get off Sam's lap and dump himself onto the floor where he has a fighting chance of getting out of this. He manages to get partway off before Sam catches onto what he's doing and hefts him back into place.
Sam lets Dean's legs hang off his lap and he swings one of his legs over the backs of Dean's knees, pushing Dean's ass even higher onto his other leg, holding him like a vice and swinging that goddamn paddle down again, making Dean buck up against his hand, head thrown back in agony.
Dean can't even-
He can't even get his legs free now! He can't even kick his fucking legs!
He struggles as hard as he can but Sam's got it so he can't move. He can't move and there's no way out and all he can do is just take it. Goddamn it!
He's stronger than this, he is! Dean Winchester doesn't give in, doesn't give up, never, never and he's not going to now! It doesn't matter that he can't move, that he's almost screaming with the intense fire in his ass, that he feels the tears starting to sting his eyes, gathering to make everything look smeary and shimmering and one even rolls down his face and isn't this just fucking wonderful!
Dean puts down his head, feeling the tears come now, full force, needing to hide them from Sam, to hide from everyone. God, he's such a fucking train wreck, he hurts everyone he loves and he just wants to stop hurting people, he wants to be better. Sam was wrong, he's sorry, sorrier than he's ever been in his life because he's such a piece of shit and not worth anything at all and he just wants Sam to love him so he feels worth something.
He can't fight anymore, he just can't. It's not giving up, it's letting go, releasing the black shit in his gut, the anger that festers there constantly and if he just lets it go, it won't hurt as much, his life won't hurt as much and he wants that more than anything in the world. He just has to let it all go…
Just let it all go and Sammy will take care of him, take care of everything and finally Dean won't have to worry anymore about anything, Sam's got it all under control and just this once, Dean can let Sam have it all. It's all ok 'cause Sam loves him and that's why he's doing this, he's helping Dean out from under all of this shit Dean lives with and Sam's taking it from him, off his shoulders and it's such a relief…
Weird, Sam's still hitting him as hard as ever but it's less intense now, the sharp slash of the paddle not quite so deep and he can take it a little better now, it doesn't hurt as much as it did before and it seems slower, less, ebbing and for the first time in his life, Dean feels light, the weight in his heart less, his stomach isn't twisting into knots anymore.
Sam, the room, the spanking all seem far away now and Dean feels like he's falling, sliding away somewhere nice, soft and warm, where there are no worries and no fear, no pain and no rage, just love and peace and everything is good, he is good and right and finally, finally, clean again.
*
Sam feels Dean slow down, his reactions to the paddle not as violent, his jerking lessening. He doesn't slow the spanking, knowing from experience that Dean needs the continued stimulation to finally get there, to that place and if he stops, Dean won't make it.
Dean's head jerks up only every few swats now and his feet stopped kicking long ago. His hands have released his death grip on the sheet and he's laid his head on his arms now, resting against the bed, staring to the side.
He finally relaxes and his body goes limp over Sam's lap and he doesn't even move anymore when Sam smacks him with the paddle.
Sam continues to punish Dean's ass for a few more seconds but he lessens the force behind the slaps, knowing that Dean is at his most vulnerable right now and that Sam has to take care of him, make sure he's safe until he comes back.
Finally, Sam stops, shaking his head at the sight of Dean's ass. It's deep red, raw and welted all over the cheeks, thighs and hips. Shit, he ended up having to beat his brother black and blue before Dean finally caved in.
Until Dean decided to give up the control he held onto so tightly, the only thing Sam could do was to keep on hitting, giving Dean as much pain and humiliation as he could bear, the only way to get Dean to the place he so desperately wanted to go.
Jesus, Dean sure was a hard one to crack and his pain tolerance was out of this world. Sam would've broken in half the time. But, Sam always knew Dean was stronger than him and stubborn! Sam's never seen anyone so obstinate in all his life, so determined not to give in and give up control and it only made it that much harder on both of them.
Sam sincerely hopes to hell this is the only spanking he'll ever have to give his brother because his hand is throbbing and his arm is on fire. And Dean isn't going to be able to sit comfortably for days.
Dean's still not moving, barely breathing in fact and Sam rubs a gentle hand over his brother's fiery ass, glad this is over with. Dean has certainly paid his debt to Sam in full and Sam forgives him completely, loving him more now than ever before and he reaches up with his other hand to caress Dean's hair and cheek.
"You still with me, Dean?"
He's not surprised at the lack of response. It takes a while to come back sometimes. He rubs Dean's back through his shirt with one hand, reaching up to release the bungee cord from the bed with the other. He works the knot in the ropes until it loosens and he's able to release Dean's wrists, rubbing them gently to get the circulation back.
Sam feels Dean's legs move slightly and Sam moves his leg off, releasing them and pulling Dean's legs back up onto the bed.
Dean groans, low in his throat at the movement and Sam whispers, "Sorry, I know it hurts…"
"Sammy…"
Dean's voice is hoarse, unsure, "Can…can I get up now?"
"Sure" Sam says, "Need some help?"
"No, I got it" and Dean puts his hands on the bed, pushing himself up, sliding his legs off onto the floor and his knees start to give. Sam grabs him and pulls him up, back next to him on the bed, helping him sit down carefully.
Dean's shoulders are slumped and he looks down at the floor for a moment, "Guess I needed help."
"Guess so."
Sam stares at his brother curiously, wondering what he's thinking and feeling right now, unsure of what needs to come next.
Dean is sitting so quietly that Sam is starting to worry that maybe he's gearing up to kick Sam's ass or something. At this point, Sam's ready for anything.
Anything except what happens next.
*