Sam tore his lips away from Dean's. Between tugging out a chunk of his hair and letting him go, Dean unclenched his fingers from Sam's locks. Sam jerked back, swiping the back of his hand across his lips, banishing Dean's heady taste.
"Sammy," Dean thrusted and groaned, eyes rolling back in his skull.
Sam winced, witnessing the similar signs of his brother's impending climax. He'd seen that expression countless times before. Only this time, a zip of fear coursed through his veins.
Dean moaned, his mouth stretching and flashing his razor-sharp teeth. He shot a tight, hot load deep into the slave's tense channel. The slave whimpered as fluid leaked between Dean's cock and his hole's tender bottom. Sam grimaced. Dean's eyes bore into his, half-lidden and in the grip of primal pleasure. A blush scorched Dean's cheeks; his fingers trembled around the prisoner's hips.
Dean held himself inside the slave for a minute, riding out his orgasm. With a wet squelch, Dean pulled his cock free. A salty, wet aroma disbursed through the room. The captive collapsed, exhausted, onto the mattress. Dean's monster cock, flaccid and well-used, pulled rapidly into Dean's slit, closing the moment the black, plump head popped inside. Trembles raced up and down Dean's back, his heartbeat racing. A foot away, Sam watched his brother slowly regain his sense of control. Sam's muscles felt like live wires. His throat, heavy and wet.
Dean wiped his mouth and pushed off the prisoner. Dean gripped the slave's arm, urging him off the bed. "Go back to your cage. Now."
The captive stumbled, his sweaty locks plastered to his forehead, sporadic trembles licking up and down the length of his legs. His cock stood erect from a bundle of coarse wiry pubic hair, untouched and leaking. The slave obeyed, despite the obvious signs of discomfort on his face. He hobbled back to the pen and opened the door, shuffling inside. In the low light, Dean's alien eyes were like two beams of green light, laser focused. The slave closed the door shut, limped to a corner, and collapsed. The other slaves cautiously approached him, their voices rising in the air. Murmurs.
Dean turned back to Sam. Once more the center of his brother's attention, Sam tried not to flinch. A slow smile curled on Dean's lips. Below him, Dean's snake half dragged forward, slowly curling into a ball at the base of the bed. Every hair on the back of Sam's nape stood erect. Dean slithered higher onto the bed, stretched out his arm, and caressed Sam's cheek, a sultry, seductive look burrowing deep in his eyes. Dean balanced his chin on his other palm. Sam plucked Dean's hand and dragged it away. A flicker of anger flashed in Dean's eyes but quickly melted into a playful gleam. Dean grinned.
"Dean, you know this isn't right." Sam said, his voice surprisingly level-headed and strong, despite the chaos ravaging within. "I know you're in there."
Dean sighed dramatically, grabbing Sam's leg. He caressed his thigh in a slow, circular motion, the tips of his claws catching on the denim and pulling small cuts against the material. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy." Dean tisked. "I haven't gone anywhere. I'm right here."
Sam shook his head. The monster in front of him couldn't be his brother. For fuck's sake, Dean had swallowed an innocent civilian whole, had raped a broken, unresisting sex slave. Had nearly….had nearly raped him. And yet…and yet Dean had resisted penetrating him because Sam hadn't wanted it. If the serpent beast in front of him really had rejected his own deep yearning for him, didn't that mean a little bit of Dean was somewhere inside? No. Sam couldn't afford to think like that. He had to look at it from a hunter's perspective: Dean was just another very stressful case. But a case, nonetheless.
"No," Sam said.
"No?"
"No, you're not. You're not in your right mind."
"Don't you dare start on me," Dean hissed, although his touch was still gentle. "Who are you to judge?"
Sam looked at the slaves huddled in the pen across the room, his throat constricting. Then he glanced at the plump swell in Dean's tail. "You killed Mateo," Sam breathed. "You…you raped that man."
Dean rolled his eyes and flicked out his tongue, licking his teeth. "So what, dude?"
Sam's brow furrowed. "So what?"
"Yeah, so what? I was hungry, so I ate. I was horny and you," Dean paused, slipping his hand down to Sam's knee, squeezing, "weren't really up for it, but I had to release some of that pressure, so that's what I did."
Sam licked his lips, heart hammering in his chest. Dean's novel, simplistic view of the world, solely focused on his carnal desires, was startling. Sure, Dean had loved fucking and eating when he had two legs, but this new version of his brother was…terrifying, to put it bluntly.
Most importantly: if Dean didn't plan on making him dinner or using him as a fuck toy, then what was Dean planning on keeping him around for?
Theories bashed against Sam's skull, all frightening and grotesque. He squeezed his eyes shut. A moment later, Sam felt something soft on his cheek. He didn't need to open his eyes to know Dean was kissing him.
I have to get out of here. Sam thought. Before things get really messy.
"Sammy," Dean whispered. But it sounded more like Ssssssammmy. "Everything is gonna be okay."
Sam opened his eyes, staring unbelievingly into Dean's serpentine stare. "How? How is everything going to 'be okay?'"
Dean smoothed his thumbs down Sam's cheeks. "For one, I was always so worried I couldn't protect you. Now, I'm like a fucking god." Dean purred. "Who would wanna fuck with me, huh?"
Sam pressed his fingers against the back of Dean's hand, feeling thrumming veins underneath, "Dean, you're a monster."
Dean ignored the comment, continuing, "Exactly. No one would come down here. If they do," Dean smirked. "I'll just eat them."
Sam flinched, stomach cramping with disgust.
"We don't have to worry about hunting anymore. That job was overrated anyway."
"Dean, you can't really-"
"I mean, the pay sucked for all the stress and liability. Cheap motels, diner foods, sleepless nights, aren't you sick of it? Sam, just think of all the wounds we have. I mean, you know we both have scars that aren't ever gonna heal. And I'm not just talking about physical ones."
"But you love hunting. Hunting is your, our, life," Sam said, shivering as Dean's palm caressed his throat. "We can't just leave it all behind so, what, you can be stuck as a man-eating monster, living in a sewer?"
Dean scoffed, "Dude, when you put it like that you make it sound bad. What I'm talking about is retirement."
Dean's palm shifted down to Sam's chest.
Sam said, "If you want to retire, then we'll retire. You don't have to be stuck as a monster."
Dean sighed, letting Sam go and shifting back on the bed. The empty space between them was an obvious command. Lie next to me. Sam didn't move a muscle.
"You know, I don't mind being this," Dean nodded down his monstrous body. "In fact, it feels good."
"This isn't you talking."
Dean rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."
"I can't stay here." Sam admitted. He shifted minutely on the mattress. Although Dean's posture remained calm, his eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, Dean. I can't just sit around and let you…let you eat innocent people. Let you rape those men."
Dean scoffed, "Well, no offense, Sammy, but I'm not giving you a choice."
Sam's stomach tightened, "What?"
Dean's face darkened, his voice sharpening. "What? You expected me to just let you go? Did you expect me to just let you walk out of here? Bring some goddamn witch doctor down here to cure me? Yeah right. You're mine. You've been mine since I was four years old. You aren't going anywhere."
Sam's palms felt sweaty. He wiped them against his jeans, swallowing thickly. "Dean, you can't just keep me prisoner."
Dean laughed darkly. "Believe me, if I wanted to keep you prisoner, I would've thrown you in that slave pen by now." Dean nodded to the captives. "So, no, you're not my prisoner."
"You should've paid better attention in school," Sam said. "Because you don't know what prisoner means."
Dean huffed, "Whatever."
Sam grew quiet, staring down at Dean's lower half, at the bundle of massive scales at the edge of the bed. Dean had managed to curl his snake half like a Ball Python, but he was still appallingly enormous.
Dean peered at the canopy of white above them. Seeing his chance, Sam's eyes darted to the entrance of the room. How many steps could he get before Dean snatched him back? Five, ten, fifteen? His legs tensed, ready to spring up and away.
Dean sighed, grasping a pillow from the headboard and yanking it down. He laid his head on the downy block. His amulet swung from around his black t-shirt, settling partway on the covers. "Don't even think about it, dude. You wouldn't make it off the bed."
"And if I did?" Sam said, glancing back at him.
"Then," Dean smirked. "I'd catch you anyway."
"You know, I'm pretty fast."
"Believe me, you wouldn't be fast enough," Dean yawned.
Sam shifted towards the entrance, his legs aching from the tension. He wanted to run just to prove he could, to see if Dean was bluffing.
Dean scowled, reaching his hand out for him. "Don't even think about it."
"What are you gonna do about it?" Sam said, watching Dean's fingers curl around his arm and pull him closer. Sam resisted his pull, staying rooted to his place at the edge of the bed.
"If you try it, I'd have no choice but to wrap you up in my coils." Dean said calmly, "Just imagine how uncomfortable that would be."
Sam could imagine it. Helpless. Trapped. Surrounded by lukewarm, powerful muscles. Like a marionette doll with its strings cut, the tension snapped out of Sam's body. He let himself be pulled onto the bed. Lying next to Dean, Dean's alien eyes felt like hot brands on the side of his face. Dean let go of his forearm and reached for his chest, caressing him.
"Don't touch me." Sam said harshly, although he made no move to snatch Dean's hand away.
To his surprise, Dean pulled away, widening the distance between them from a few inches to a foot. Silence ate the room whole for a breathless handful of seconds.
Then: "Go to sleep, Sammy."
"Don't tell me what to do," Sam snapped.
Silence prevailed, interluded with the drip, drip, drip of a pipe somewhere and the low murmurs of the slaves assisting their frail peer. Cautiously, Sam turned his head to face his brother. Dean's face was slack in sleep. His breathing, soft and leisurely. This is going to be a long night, Sam thought and turned to peer up at the cloth canopy.
How the fuck am I going to get out of here?
