alexisjane | [Fic] Wheelhouse

Title - Wheelhouse
Pairing - Well...Sam/Dean, I guess
Rating - NC-17
Disclaimer - These are my words but all my base are belong to Kripke, Sera, Ben, Jeremy or whoever so don't sue me. It's just for fun.
Word count - 1285
Warnings - whipping, hurt!Dean, sadism, pain, blood, dub-con, Set S4 I guess...is it a pwp? I'm not sure. OC POV.

Notes - I have no idea what this is. well...I guess primariy it is a gift for the wonderful and so, SO generous,

somersault_j to whom I have owed this ficlet for the longest time! She wrote me tie!kink and wanted a little whipping thing in return. She has been profoundly patient waiting for me to write it and ended up having to kickstart my brain when it faltered and then beta'd it for me! I had a hard time writing this. It was really difficult for some reason! I hope it turned out okay. Thanks to

skeletncloset too for letting me cry on her shoulder. Please feel free to point out any or all mistakes. They are mine.

Wheelhouse

Dean screamed.

Or at least that's what the other guy was calling him until they crammed his mouth with…what is that? Looked like the rag they used for wiping down the workbench yesterday. Elerd couldn't help but think that must taste nasty, more from curiosity than sympathy, but with utter relief that at least the damn kid had shut up. He'd never heard such filth…and threats, Lord! He had some mouth on him but to be fair – especially being that he was so big it took the three of them to take him down – Elerd was pretty sure he had the means to follow through on most of them.

Dean screamed again.

The kid could holler. For the longest time he'd had a vague notion that there was something wrong with him, not able to scream somehow. He'd cussed and swore and spat, made a whole mess of noise as he kicked and struggled as they lashed him to the old cartwheel propped between the two posts in the barn, a relic from so many granddaddies ago it was hard to keep track. He'd been full of the same threats and vile words as his friend until he realized what was going to happen.

And then he did the damnedest thing.

He smiled.

When they'd spotted these two trying to pry open the side door to the barn, it didn't take much to give them what they wanted, bundle them inside, trapping them there until Ethan fetched Pa from the house. It wasn’t the first time they’d caught drifters or curious college kids sneaking around the place. And it wasn’t the first time Pa had decided that a whipping was the best thing for them. Teach them some respect. And more or less they all tried to man up, put a brave face on it, make out that they were tough enough to take it. They all smiled, out of fear, out of bravado, out of hysteria but never like this. This guy smiled and seemed to relax. Like he was relieved. Like he was comfortable.

Elerd caught the way Ethan had glanced over to him, a question on his lips and trepidation in his eyes, as he used his hunting knife to cut down the centreline of the guy's shirt and undershirt, stripped the two halves down over his freckled shoulders to hang ragged from his wrists like broken wings. The way he just stood there without a care in the world. But Pa didn't flinch so maybe they were just imagining it.

It didn't take long for Pa to start looking worried though. Usually it took no more than five lashes to get them screaming and begging for mercy or death or both but this guy…he just took it and took it and never took his eyes off his friend, bound on the floor of the barn out in front of him. They just looked at each other silent, both flinching at the whip, one from its touch, the other from the sound of it. Until Dean's head fell forward and he started panting out hard with every crack of the whip. That's when the blood had started to flow and when Edgar had to cram the other guys mouth with the rag. Strange that he should be screaming louder than the guy with blood soaking the waistband of his pants.

Pa looked exhausted. Almost worse off than the other guy. Edgar had taken a turn but now Pa was back with the bullwhip in his hand, red and sweating, panting hard with the faint wheeze at the end of each out breath as he swung his arm forward. The whip cracked against the wet skin and Dean’s arms started to shake. Pa didn’t smile but a look of relief passed over his face. It was short lived though.

“Come on old man, that all you got?” Dean’s words were harsh and dry from his overused vocal cords but there was a smirk in them. He stood there bleeding and shaking and something else that Elerd couldn’t quite put his finger on that just seemed…off.

Pa found a new vigor with the taunt and arced his arm back again. As it came forward, dragging the bullwhip after it, that’s when Elerd realized. The hips.

The whip made contact, the noise made sickening, not by the yowl coming out of the man’s mouth but by the way he rocked his hips forward, canting up as if to meet the stroke. Elerd blanched and looked desperately for Edgar, trying to use his eyes to draw his attention to the offending area when he eventually got his attention.

By then the whip was already making it’s way to Dean’s back again, the snap of the leather slicing his skin eliciting a groan this time as he ground his crotch against the spoke of the wheel.

Edgar looked at Dean, looked at Elerd and then back to Dean, saying, “Uh. Pa…?”

But Pa barely noticed. Dean was breathing hard and between pants, called out, “You tired, Ol’Timer? Maybe you should let one of the kids take over.”

Dean was shaking all over and Pa picked up the pace hitting him once, twice and then the third time, Dean screamed, “Yes!” and his body shuddered in an all too familiar way, yelling as he came. The aftershocks pulsed through him and he just kept grunting and rubbing against the coarse wooden frame.

Elerd yanked his hands from his pockets and stood upright, glancing over to Edgar as he did the same, standing taut and tense, waiting to see what would happen next.

Pa was similarly still, his arms shaken and spent. For a moment he just stood there. Then he let the whip fall from his hands into the dusty straw at his feet and said quietly, “Get this abomination off my farm.”

As he turned and slowly walked away, Dean’s crippled voice called after him, “Was it good for you too?”

Elerd and Edgar just looked at each other for a moment and then stepped forward. Edgar went to the man on the floor and was barely on him when the man freed himself from the rope on his wrists, his hands bloody and raw where he had worked them out. He pushed Edgar away, knocking him into the ground and rushed to Dean, holding him upright as Elerd untied him from the wheel.

“Oh God, Dean. Are you okay?”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Okay? Sam, I haven’t come that hard since Hell.” He smiled and the way that Sam smiled back made Elerd’s blood run cold. “Can we please just go now? I think I may need a Vicodin…or five.”

Sam smirked and pulled Dean’s arm over his shoulder, being careful not to touch the open wounds on his back. “Yeah, yeah. Such a tough guy.” They hobbled towards the door, Elerd and Edgar watching them go.

When they were gone, Edgar turned to Elerd, his face white and with a retch in his voice, asked, “What the hell was that?”

Elerd slowly shook his head. “I do not know…”

“But…?”

Elerd turned to his brother. He was never going to wash the image of that smile on Sam’s face out of his mind. Or the way he had kissed Dean full on the mouth when they reached the threshold of the barn, running his hands over Dean’s torn flesh when Dean’s hand dropped to Sam’s crotch. It had left him shaken, deep down in his soul and the world was suddenly all wrong. Deeply and profoundly wrong.

“I don’t know…but I’m sure as Hell going to church on Sunday, no matter what Pa says.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

pinkwithoutplot.livejournal.com

Well, well, well...if that didn't press all my buttons ;) Beautiful job, bb. Soooooooooooo hot! <3

From:

Writing Stuff. Reading Things. The Family Business.

[Fic] Wheelhouse

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