Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5594215.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Serial_Killers, Bloodplay, Hand_Jobs, Blow_Jobs,
      Dom/sub_Undertones, Orgasm_Delay/Denial
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-31 Words: 1570
****** Blooded ******
by castielsstarr
Summary
     "He was more than happy to do it for his little brother, too. Sammy
     did the hard part for them. This, the killing and the draining? That
     was easy. So, he just let Sam take up a seat in that chair, watching,
     waiting for his commands."
     A/N: Please heed the warnings!
Notes
     Alright, I don't know what happened. I felt the need to write
     something darker and this came out. Oops.
     Come hang out with me on Tumblr, I promise I don't bite:
     Main blog: castielsstarr
     SPN NSFW Multi-ship Sideblog: wingedwincest
Being the younger of the two, Sam always got the best role when they would play
their games. When they started he was 11, and it was “Will you help me find my
mommy?” At 14 the game changed to “Please, ma’am, my dog got off his leash and
ran away, will you help me look?” Now, at 17 years, the game changed again.
With his pouty lips and slight build, it became, “Please, sir, let me suck your
cock.” No more questions. Just a quick and easy statement. It was the best lure
they ever had.
He usually introduced himself as Sam, and on a few occasions he actually used
Dean. Somehow those times ended up being his favorites for a reasoning he
couldn’t understand. Perhaps it was simply that he admired his older brother
and the work that he did. The things that he did for them. It was remarkable.
Sam definitely liked these projects more now that he was older and he was able
to do more. Dean let him help with little things when he was younger like
setting up the tarps, and making sure everything was clean and in order. “These
are your important steps, Sammy,” Dean would tell him. “If you skimp on these
steps, something will go wrong. Do all setup by the book, in order.”
But that was when Dean would make him leave the room. After that initial lure,
Sam would never get to see the people he had tricked into following him down
that back alley, to the car they were sleeping in—wherever it was that Dean was
waiting for them. Dean was to be left alone with them while he worked, then he
would come see Sam.
When he was 11, Dean would come to him after with just a little jar of blood.
The kind that baby food was sold in. It was just enough for them at the time.
Dean would ask him to take off his shirt and he would paint made up symbols on
his chest with the still-warm liquid. Any extra that was in the jar would get
smeared over Sam’s cheeks and lips. He wasn’t interested in anything else at
that age, but he had developed an affinity for kissing already and all he
wanted was to taste Dean.
As he grew, their after-rituals became more and more complex. More blood, more
touching, more everything. He needed whatever he was allowed and then some. Big
brother always came through for him. If he didn’t have Dean helping him with
these games, these projects, he didn’t know what he would do. He wasn’t as well
trained, didn’t have as much combined strength and precision. The four extra
years Dean had with their father proved to be the difference between their
abilities.
At age 15, on his birthday, Dean let him finally come in the room with him to
work. Dean had him sit in a chair in the corner. Said he wanted him to watch
this one—if he wanted to—and maybe the next one, too. Told him he could change
his mind and leave at any point and Dean wouldn’t stop him, wouldn’t think
anything of it, and wouldn’t love him any less.
The sight of the man as he struggled under Dean’s hands was enough to have Sam
rock hard before the knife even once cut through the stranger’s skin. That
first time that Sam got to see his brother’s hands freshly coated with that red
right from the source, he knew he was really done for. He hadn’t known how
close he was, so when he pressed the heel of his hand to his crotch to stave
off his orgasm, he ended up coating the inside of his boxers with come. Dean
made him watch through the rest of it without cleaning himself up—saving
himself for when big brother finished and they could have their fun.
There was one time, Sam was almost halfway over 16, when Dean asked if he
wanted to try this time. Sam was more excited than he could remember being for
a long time, but the execution seemed off when he did it. The work ended up
being sloppy and wrong. It wasn’t as enjoyable as letting Dean take care of
them—knowing his part was already finished and all he needed to do was relax.
He was more than happy to do it for his little brother, too. Sammy did the hard
part for them. This, the killing and the draining? That was easy. So, he just
let Sam take up a seat in that chair, watching, waiting for his commands. Most
of the time it was, “Strip, let me see you touch yourself.” Sometimes it was,
“Sammy, come here and feel this.”
At just a couple months over 17, Sam had lured in an early middle-aged
gentleman, graying a little around the temples—just the kind that Dean would
like for a present. This one he did the setup all by himself, finally tall and
strong enough to handle some of the guys they took. He didn’t need Dean for the
capture. Did it himself, got the guy drugged, transported and onto the table.
Dean was surprised beyond words when he came down to meet Sam that all he could
do was pull him in for a bruising kiss.
That kill had easily been one of their favorites. The man didn’t scream, just
let the silent resigned tears pour from the corners of his eyes. And to watch
the way his brother moved with a knife? Stunning. Sam watched as Dean carefully
carved open a hole in his belly, the blood pooling up from his body as his
heart beat started to wind down.
The command was so soft he didn’t know whether he was imagining it at first.
“Sam, bring your chair here.” The knife was angled down at Dean’s side,
pointing to the extra spot on the tarp next to him, near the man’s legs.
Sam moved his chair as commanded and sat back down, one hand casually palming
his cock and the other resting on his exposed stomach. They had learned after a
while that sometimes it was just easier to start if the clothes were already
off. Dean preferred to work without clothing these days, too. The blood used to
stick to him and his shirt would be dried to his chest by the time he was done.
Dean placed the knife on the table and let the palms of both hands slide
smoothly through the man’s blood, drops collecting into a thick coating, one
that would be easily transferred to Sam’s body. Only a few drops were lost to
the tarp covering the floor as he turned to Sam and straddled his lap. The moan
was already worming its way out of Sam as Dean placed both palms on his chest
and slid them down his stomach. His fingers caught and left a smear over each
nipple, causing Sam’s hips to buck up.
One fingertip traced the faintest hint of blood onto his lips before being
claimed by Dean’s mouth. “You are incredible, Sammy. Such a good little
brother,” he said once the sucking to his lips had ceased.
Sam’s breaths were already pants as Dean reached over to the body next to them
to slick his hand again. This time he brought it between them to wrap around
both of their cocks, the pressure of his hand tight, but the slide making it
deliciously good. Sam wrapped his long arms around his brother, holding him
close, foreheads resting against each other, breathing in the same heated air.
“Dean, nnng, yes.”
“Don’t come, Sammy. Oh god, don’t do it, not yet.” His hand quickened, and his
hips thrust forward, too. The added friction had him biting his lip, holding
back from tipping over that edge as much as he could.
Sam whined and panted beneath Dean. “Dean, Dean, I can’t. I need to come,
please, ah ah.”
“Just a little bit longer. Be good for big brother, yeah?” Sam whimpered and
clutched harder at his brother’s back. “Oh god, Sammy. Fuck, fuck." Dean
stroked them both quickly as he came over their rippling stomachs, muscles
working, pulling an orgasm from one and holding it back from the other. As he
wound down, Dean slowed and let his grip fall away from their cocks. Sam was
keening, trying to keep an orgasm down that was only seconds away from bursting
out of him.
Sam watched carefully as Dean stood from his lap, dipped his palm in the blood
that was starting to cool, and slicked Sam’s cock a few times with it. “Dean,
I—”
“Shhh.” Dean sunk to his knees between Sam’s legs and took just the head of
Sam’s cock in his mouth. His tongue circled around the tip just once before he
sucked Sam all the way in until he was nudging against the back of his throat.
The taste of the blood combined with his brother’s smell forced saliva to pool
in his mouth. It took only a few bobs of his head before Sam’s hands were laced
in his hair and he was coming deep down Dean’s throat.
Dean stayed on his knees after Sam settled, reverently running his hands over
thighs and hips. “So good. I love you, little brother. So good.”
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