A/N: please don't read if you're easily triggered. Trash talking, harsh language, and worse up ahead. Still Bray/Dean kinda, you'll see. Will be updated again soon.
Bray flopped back on the bed in his hotel room, arms outstretched and his snakeskin boots hanging off the end of the bed. Ambrose had jumped him before his match, never even giving him a chance to go after Roman. Having taken one too many beatings lately, his body ached. Too many losses. He felt the defeat down to his very bones. He heard the three distinct knocks on his door, but he was far too tired to be bothered enough to answer it. "Come in." He bellowed, remembering that he'd left the door unlocked. When he saw the sheep mask however, he felt like he should sit up and pay a little more attention. "I tried to speak to you after your match, but you blew me off." A male voice spoke from behind the mask as he locked the door behind him, tossing a grey plastic bag onto the floor. "Look, I'm really really tired. If you come back later, I can sign a few autographs for you or whatever." He sighed, frustrated that this stranger would be bold enough to come up to his room. Surely he had followed him up here. "You ignored me Bray, and that really annoyed me." "Look, I'm really sorry man. But I am dead tired. If you come back in a few hours..." He crossed the room before Bray could finish, closing in the space between them. "...I'll make it up to you." He offered. But instead he pushed Bray back against the mattress, moving to straddle his waist. "Hey hey hey I don't know what you're getting at here..." "It's my turn now, you bastard." And the sheep mask was torn off, thrown to the side as Dean revealed himself. "What the fuck, man?" Bray stammered beneath him, honestly caught off guard. "I'm tired of this cat and mouse game Bray Wyatt." Dean fumed, retrieving the pair of handcuffs from the back of his belt.
After a skirmish with Dean putting all his weight on Bray's chest, he managed to handcuff the larger man to the headboard. Bray tested the cuff strength and laughed when he found he couldn't get out of them. "What a delightful game you've cooked up! So tell me boy, what have you got planned?" "Fuck you." Dean growled as he stepped from the bed. "I'm not your boy." Bray cackled in excitement as Dean paced back and forth at the foot of the bed, unsure of what he wanted to do next. Truthfully, he didn't think he would have been able to overpower Bray as easily as he did. There was no plan past that point. "Tick-tock Dean-o, I'm growing bored of this game already." Bray chided from the bed. "Shut up, just shut up, you asshole!" Dean fumed, suddenly thinking of his next move. "All you fucking do is talk. Well it's time someone shut you up." Dean grabbed the back of his black shirt and pulled it over his head, coming closer to the bed. He had to straddle Bray again, but he managed to gag him with it.
"There. Now we can have some fun." Dean grinned wickedly before Bray bucked beneath him, raising his hips (and Dean) off of the bed. "I see, you're not going to let be nice, are ya?" Dean taunted, retreating back to the floor and to the bag that he had thrown on the floor. "I kinda expected that." Bray arched off the bed completely, managing to do his spider thing even with his hands bound. "That sorta thing doesn't scare me, you know that." Dean retorted, coming back towards the bed with a rope. "You see, Bray, I hate you. I really really fucking hate you." He explained he grabbed Bray by the boots and tying them to the footboard. "You see I've never really been into the whole guy scene. I've always chased skirts. But you, man. There's just something about you." Dean straddled Bray's stomach, holding the bigger man down. "I just hate you so much." He added, tugging on Bray's beard. "You make me want to do things. Crazy things, Bray. Things I've never done before." And with that Dean fished the switchblade from his pocket, flicking it open inches away from Bray's face. He felt angry when no emotion showed in Bray's face. No fear, no surprise, nothing. It was like the bastard just knew things would come to this. "Give me something Bray, you fat bastard. You must feel something, not being in control anymore." Bray's lips curled into a grin around the makeshift gag and it infuriated Dean. Grabbing a pillow, he laid it across his face so he didn't have to look at it anymore. A faceless, voiceless, helpless Bray Wyatt. Perfect. The question is, where to begin?