runedgirl | Fade To Black (Not While Your Hand’s In Mine) Ch 10/18

Title: Fade To Black (Not While Your Hand’s In Mine) Ch 10/18

Author: runedgirl

Rating: NC17 for sexual content and violence

Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/demon!Dean

Summary: The brother that Sam gets back isn’t the same, but Sam’s
love is. Sam risks everything and leaves everyone he’s ever cared about
behind in the desperate hope that the bond between him and Dean might just
be strong enough to transcend what hell did to his brother.

Set post Season 3, seven months after Dean’s deal came due and written over
the summer before it was AU, this story just kept writing itself and
wouldn’t let go until it was an epic love story in every sense, eventually
spanning five decades with enough twists and turns to make me dizzy.

Warning: Spoilers for S3 finale; violence; Wincest (obviously)

Beta: Big thanks to K for caring enough to make awesome suggestions
*hugs*

AN: Not a WIP – story is finished with 18 chapters and will be posted
regularly.

So suddenly this story seems to be right in line with Kripke’s thinking –
how weird is that?

Chapter Ten

The next morning Sam finds, to his surprise, that he doesn’t have to stay
pressed up against the closed door like a pancake while the demon takes one
of his luxuriously – ridiculously – long showers. For some reason, he can
take a step back without being filled with agonizing pain. And another. Huh.

Sam backs up slowly, inching his way, waiting for the pull on his insides to
send him careening back toward the demon, but nothing happens. He makes it
all the way to the bed and sits down before his gut suddenly burns with it.
The demon howls from the shower as he feels it too, telling Sam he’s gonna
cut out his intestines and stuff them down his goddamn moronic throat. He’s
much more creative than Dean ever was with his insults, doesn’t care if
they’re graphic, or – well, downright mean. The bathroom door is the only
bit of privacy either of them ever have, so Sam can understand the demon’s
annoyance at being interrupted. It’s an ironclad rule that he doesn’t open
that door when Sam’s in the shower, though he usually slumps on the other
side of it and bangs his head against it, or jerks himself off while Sam
does – but louder.

“Sorry,” Sam says, but he’s too excited about this new bit of information
not to want to share it with the only other person – demon, whatever – who
will give a shit. He bursts through the unlocked door, still wearing just
his boxers, still talking. “But listen, I think the three feet is more like
ten feet now, because I got all the way back to the bed before it kicked in
and then--

“Dude!” the demon yells from the shower, throwing back the curtain to stare
at Sam. “What the fuck? First you just about knock me over by walking too
far away and now you just burst in and – and –

Sam bursts into laughter, he can’t help it. The demon’s covered in foamy
lather. His hair is standing up in frothy spikes, and his naked body –
Dean’s body -- is sleek and slippery. Trails of soap mark where he’s run his
own hands over his chest and belly, and he’s holding his very hard dick in
one soapy fist. “Guess I interrupted something, huh?” Sam smirks, but it
disappears as the demon moves lightning fast, steps out of the shower and
right into Sam, pushing until Sam’s back is up against the tiled wall. It
seems Sam has seriously miscalculated the ramifications of embarrassing a
demon. Apparently they don’t appreciate being laughed at. Like, at all.

“You got holy water with you now, Sam?” the demon demands, anger deepening
his voice, and god the heat of him sinks right into Sam – he’s all hard
muscle, steamy and slick from soap and hot water. And he’s mad. Fucking mad.
Maybe Sam’s not the only one freaked out about what happened the night
before. Be careful what you wish for, he thinks as the demon crushes Sam
back against the wall, length of his warm wet body pressing so hard Sam
doesn’t even think about moving.

Sam’s seen him enraged before, muscled body tight with adrenaline-fueled
rage and black eyes gleaming cold as diamonds and just as hard as he turns
fearlessly into a fight, but never has the full intensity of that rage been
turned on Sam. He’s not Dean -- Sam doesn’t know him inside out, how to read
his tells Sam logged over a lifetime of being together. Sam can’t anticipate
what he’ll do, what boundaries, if any, he won’t cross. The demon slides
slippery fingers up Sam’s side, the tickle to his ribs a sharp contrast to
the clear threat underneath. I could break you. Any time I wanted. Sam
doesn’t move as the demon slithers his hand higher, up over the racing pulse
at his throat, and tangles his fingers in Sam’s hair roughly. He leans in,
scent of soap and fresh-scrubbed maleness making Sam’s nose tingle, and
growls his question again, lips mouthing against Sam’s jaw. “No holy water,
Sammy?”

There’s no doubt he’s stronger than Sam, demon trumps human easily, and
fuck, Sam’s known that from day one. It’s amazing his luck hasn’t run out
before now, that he hasn’t done something that pissed the demon off enough
for him to turn the tables. Fuck. Let his guard down over a stupid blowjob
and three minutes of Dean’s green eyes.

“No,” Sam answers, surprised at his own even tone, his voice unwavering as
the demon presses an arm against Sam’s throat none-too-gently to keep him
immobile. Maybe Sam’s been expecting this all along. The demon keeps it all
inside, and they’ve both been walking around terrified of it, convinced that
if the rage gets out it will destroy them both. Sam pulls himself up beneath
the demon’s hold and squares his shoulders for whatever’s coming. A shiver
runs through him toes to scalp at the danger, but some part of Sam welcomes
it, needs the truth of it between them. Bring it on then, he thinks,
swallowing hard against the press of the demon’s arm on his throat.

“Really?” the demon purrs, in that feline feral way that isn’t anything like
Dean, and he shoves his soap-slick erection against Sam’s hip. Sam can hear
his own breathing, the pounding of his heart in his ears, over the splashing
of the shower.

“Then I think it’s me who’s in charge now, don’t you, Sammy? So maybe you
better stop laughing.” He twists his hips, nudges his hard dick against the
front of Sam’s boxers until it slips up Sam’s bare belly, silky-soft head
sliding wet against Sam’s skin. Fuck.

“Guess this is your chance,” Sam manages to say, though the way the demon’s
rutting against his stomach is making it hard to stay focused. “Gonna get
rid of me and spend the rest of eternity merrily destroying as much of
humanity as you can?”

“Sam, Sam, Sam,” the demon grins, singsong voice a striking contrast to the
way he rocks his hips against Sam’s and presses dangerously against his
windpipe. “Is that what you think I want?”

And then Sam’s spun around, so fast and easy it’s like he weighs no more
than a child, and wow, that’s an entirely new experience for someone who’s
been 6”4’ since he was sixteen. Sam realizes with a start that he’s never
felt the demon’s whole strength, untempered by holy water or threat of
retaliation, and holygod, he should be way more scared right now and a lot
less turned on. The demon holds him in place easily with one arm across his
shoulder blades, tears the cotton in two straight up the back seam with an
angry scritchhh to get off his boxers, the material yanked up hard against
Sam’s balls for a painful moment before the boxers give way. The demon
presses the wet heat of his chest against Sam’s bare back, so tightly Sam
can feel the hard peaks of his nipples.

“Gonna take what I want, Sam,” he growls in Sam’s ear, and his tongue is
rough and hungry there, dipping inside until Sam shivers, and fuck, Sam knew
there’d be kickback for what he asked for last night, for those long minutes
of unguarded Dean. The demon pays a price for his moments of vulnerability,
and now Sam will too. The demon mouths lower, teeth catching his earlobe and
biting down. “S’what demons do, you knew that.”

Soap and conditioner-slick fingers stroke down the small of Sam’s back and
part his cheeks, slide inside too easily, and Sam knows he’s not even
fighting, not even trying to close his legs to make this harder. The demon
grunts approval, his forehead pressed to Sam’s back as his movements become
faster and more desperate. He bares his teeth against Sam’s flesh, leaving
marks on the thick meat of his shoulder, biting like a fucking animal, one
hand gripping Sam’s hip to hold him immobile while the other opens him up,
thick fingers sliding in and out unmercifully. Sam feels giddy, helpless –
he knows it’s not entirely true, he could fight if he wanted -- but it
feels like there’s nothing he can do but take it. He’s fantasized about
this, forbidden image of Dean taking him hard and rough, dirtybadwrong
enough to get him off quick and gasping when he thinks about Dean muttering
‘mine’ in his ear. There are no whispered endearments in the steamy
bathroom, none of the tenderness Sam knows he would have had from Dean if
they’d ever done this, no matter how overcome with lust they might have
been. But that’s Dean’s cock leaking against his ass, Dean’s hands holding
him in place, taking him. So he drops his head and says yes as the demon
enters him, feels the sear and burn and fuck, it’s true what they say about
conditioner not being the best lube. Sam has to fight not to tense up, knows
it’ll just hurt more. But he wants it. God help him he still wants it.

The demon fucks him mindlessly, hips hammering while he marks Sam all over
with bites and bruises, grunting his pleasure with every thrust. It’s not
like his fantasy, but Sam arches his back anyway, widens his stance and
pushes to relax, and little by little it stops hurting and starts to edge
close to good. Just knowing it’s Dean inside him, hard and thick and needy,
that it’s Dean’s hands bracketing his hips and Dean’s gruff voice panting
against his ear, is enough to make Sam’s cock swell again. He whimpers
finally, first sound he’s allowed himself to make since this started, and
the demon groans and comes just like that – Sam can tell from the way he
tenses and stiffens all over, and his fingers flex against Sam’s hips with
the same stuttered rhythm as his breathing and those telltale little moans
of climax. The demon falls against Sam’s back after, his bare chest hot and
sweat-slick, and Sam can’t stifle another whimper as his cock slips out and
the demon steps back. Funny, but that’s when Sam can feel it acutely – that
he’s been fucked. By a demon. By his brother. He feels too open, too raw,
the demon’s semen dribbling down over his balls. He doesn’t move, leans
against the wall paralyzed by the strange sensations, still hard.

“Fuck,” the demon curses behind him. “Sam?”

Sam can’t imagine what kind of answer he could give, what kind of question
the demon’s asking. Can’t predict what’s gonna happen now, now that the
balance of power has flipped. Demons kill, right? That’s what they do, and
Sam’s always known it. Maybe it’s only a matter of time til they slide all
the way to there, so he doesn’t answer.

“Fuck, Sam,” the demon says.

“Yeah, that’s what you just did,” Sam finally responds, because why prolong
the inevitable, if that’s what this is. He’d rather know. “Now what?”

He finally turns around when the demon doesn’t answer. “What? Do you like to
play with the mouse first? Bat it around a while, watch it bleed and freeze
up with terror? That it? Well fuck that. You gonna kill me, just fuckin’ do
it.” Sam’s suddenly furious. At himself for getting his hopes up, at the
demon for pushing what’s left of Dean down again. Just wants it over with.

The demon who just fucked him has hair that’s dried into what looks like a
white Mohawk, and smells like strawberries. He’s the most ridiculous looking
deadly dangerous thing ever. And he’s gawking at Sam.

He stammers when he answers. “I – no, I’m not – not gonna kill you,
Sam, you idiot.”

“Oh, really? What then? You’re just gonna jump me when you get mad, when
something I do pisses you off, whether I want it or not?”

“What? No! I –

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what you just did.”

The demon seems to deflate, sits down heavily on the closed toilet, still
naked and covered in half-dried soap. His slippery ass slides sideways and
he almost falls, recovers with an ungainly sprawl and puts his face in his
hands. “You should tie me back up,” he says finally.

“Is that a joke? No holy water here, remember?” Sam’s better judgment is
yelling at him to stop reminding the demon of his upper hand, but Sam’s too
tired to listen.

“I remember,” the demon says mournfully, then looks up at Sam, and his eyes
are a swirling mix of black and green, like somebody marbled the colors
together in oil and water. “Sam,” he says again, and bites his lip. “You
should. Now. Before I –

“Before you what?”

“Before I hurt you again.”

Sam’s stomach does a 360, his knees almost going out from under him with
sudden exhaustion. The demon’s giving him an out, offering him a chance to
take back the upper hand and get back in control. Or Dean is. And Sam can’t
do it, keep up this constant power struggle. “No,” he says.

The demon snaps his head up, confused. “No?”

“No. I’m not gonna live the rest of my life tying you up and spraying you
with holy water.”

“But Sam, I just, I mean jesusfuck, I just –

“Yeah, you did, and you can’t do it again. Not like that. That’s not okay.”

The demon grimaces, gestures desperately like Sam is an imbecile who might
only understand if he uses hand signals along with words. “But I will
do it again, I can’t help it!”

Sam drops to the floor, puts both hands on the demon’s bare knees and brings
their faces level. The demon gnaws at his bottom lip and drops his eyes, but
Sam waits until he reluctantly raises them again to answer. “Yes you can.
They don’t want you to think you can, they don’t want you to remember why
you don’t want to, but you can.”

The demon shakes his head wildly, panic in his eyes. “No, Sammy, you don’t
know what you’re saying, you know this, you know what demons are,
you’ve always known.”

And that’s funny, because it’s true, Sam has always thought he knew. So
certain, for so long. Arrogantly certain. “I thought I did,” he says, still
holding the demon’s gaze, mesmerized by the shifting black and green. “But I
didn’t have a fucking clue. Neither did you. You still don’t, even though
you are one.”

“You’re crazy,” the demon answers, but he huffs an exasperated snort
afterwards, and that one little sound lets Sam know that he’s right.

“Yeah, maybe. But we’re gonna try it my way, okay?”

“You’re not gonna tie me up?”

Sam shakes his head.

“No more holy water?”

Sam shakes his head. “And you’re gonna stop going out of your way to be a
bastard anyway. Because you’re gonna remember that you feel like shit
afterwards.”

“Do not.” The demon scowls, petulant.

“Do too,” Sam insists. “You’re worried right now that my ass hurts.”

The demon looks up suddenly, and Sam correctly predicts the rush of green
that overtakes the black in his eyes. “Does it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Sorry,” the demon mumbles, worrying his bottom lip.

“I know you are,” Sam says, “And that’s why you’re not gonna do it again.”

The demon rolls his eyes, but concedes the match, at least for the time
being. ““I’m gonna wash the shampoo offa me, it’s itching like a bitch.”

Sam gets up, steps aside to let him get back into the still-running shower,
waits for the squeal.

“Fuck! It’s cold as fuckin’ ice in here!”

Serves him fucking right, Sam thinks as he cleans himself up with a chilly
washcloth and goes to search for some new boxers.

Chapter Eleven