Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/12223551. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Category: M/M Fandom: Supernatural Relationship: Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester Additional Tags: Dubious_Consent, Incest_Kink, Grooming, Pedophilia, Unrequited, Intrusive Thoughts, Obsessive_Behavior, Self-Harm, Alcohol_Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced_Child_Abuse, Underage_Sex Series: Part 3 of Playing_Bingo_II Collections: SPN_Kink_Bingo, Wincest_Writing_Challenge, SPN_Kink_Bingo_2017 Stats: Published: 2017-09-30 Words: 1357 ****** Compulsion ****** by octopussy_(deannawincester) Summary Dean doesn’t mean to do it. Only once he’s thought about doing it, he can’t help but keep thinking about it, and once he’s spent too long thinking about it, he can’t seem to resist doing it. Written for SPN Kink Bingo 2017. Square filled: Incest Kink. Also for Round Twelve of the Wincest Writing Challenge. Prompt: "You will want to get inside him, and ruin him, but he doesn’t listen." Notes See the end of the work for notes Dean first hears the word “grooming” on a hunt when he’s fifteen. The hunt that teaches Dean that humans are every bit as capable of being monsters as any supernatural thing. Grooming is what Dad calls it when they realize that kids in Middlebrook, Virginia aren’t being possessed or put into a trance, just manipulated by a single sick fuck with an honest-to-god candy store. Dean’s old enough to fill in the blanks Dad and the local police leave in the story for his benefit. He can imagine that middle aged sicko and what he might have done to the kids they interviewed and it scares him more than any haunting he’s seen. The idea of it though, of making someone into your own, sticks to him. He tries not to think about it, he really does. He feels nauseous every time his thoughts drift that way. He remembers how those kids might as well have been possessed for the way that one selfish, perverse adult sucked the joy right out of their eyes. It occurs to him while they’re on the road away from Middlebrook that Sam is the perfect target for a monster like that—isolated, eager-to-please, without a mom, with an alcoholic father who has too many expectations. The idea makes Dean gag enough that Dad pulls over for him, commanding him not to puke in the car. He tries not to think about it, but he’s usually jacking off when he does. Dean figures he’s probably too young for him to fully separate sex things from rape things. Dad didn’t seem to have any trouble punishing the Middlebrook candy man and then moving on to a bar bimbo the next night without any overlap, any contamination. It must just be something wrong with Dean, something deficient in him, that when he finds a moment alone to touch himself, his go-to fantasy is of molding and shaping a perfect little toy of a lover. He likes the idea of control, real control. In what are rapidly becoming his come-quickest daydreams, his perfectly groomed baby doll is even fully posable. When he wants their legs open, they stay that way. When he wants their ass to gape, it defies muscle memory. When he fucks their throat, they don’t ever need to stop to breathe. The out-and-out fantasies make Dean feel disgusting. But the passing, matter- of-fact thoughts are worse. Two weeks after Middlebrook while they’re sitting in a Denny’s, it occurs to Dean that he likes the idea of his toy being his little brother, likes the uncomfortable symmetry and fuckedupness of it, the sense that someone like him was paired with someone like Sam as some awful cosmic oversight or punishment or setup just to see how far they’d get. He has to escape to the poorly lit bathroom to put his head between his knees and get himself off guiltily before they get back on the road and he has to share the backseat with Sam. Sometimes he can go a long time without thinking about it, but the little revelations always hit him over the fucking head in moments of quiet and vulnerability. They make him feel crazy. They make him feel innately wrong . Surely no one good comes out of the bathroom stall sometimes in a gas station and sees their little brother washing his hands and thinks about undoing him. Surely no one right in the head realizes on the edge of sleep that their little brother would never tell anyone what might happen when they share a bed. Surely no one with a righteous bone in their entire body notices all the ways they could manipulate their little brother when he’s smiling right in front of them. But Dean does. He gets good about managing his response to the thoughts, doesn’t gag or pale anymore. And he punishes himself plenty, especially when thinking that way coincides with a fuck. He succeeds in not doing any of it for three years, white knuckling through the heavy thoughts with alcohol and a collection of deep pinprick holes he cuts into his upper leg with a sharp-tipped knife. The punctures are so small that the scars blend into his freckles. When the plans and images overwhelm Dean, it helps to remember that Sam’s his responsibility, his duty, practically his entire purpose, but remembering those things doesn’t seem to slow down the thoughts, especially now that Sam’s a teenager and asks questions and tells Dean things and jerks off when he thinks Dean can’t hear him. The first time Dean slips, it’s an accident or at least he’s pretty sure he didn’t really mean to do it. He touches Sam’s ass, just a brush, in a hug and immediately takes Sam to a Dairy Queen for an impromptu ice cream stop. While Sam sucks ice cream off a plastic spoon, Dean realizes that, as hard as he’s tried not to, he’s been grooming Sam for a long time without either of them ever knowing it. Sam trusts him and relies on him. Sam rarely questions him and has only ever told on him once in their entire lives. Dean doesn’t mean to do it. Only once he’s thought about doing it, he can’t help but keep thinking about it, and once he’s spent too long thinking about it, he can’t seem to resist doing it. It’s little things like coaxing Sam into talking about the parts of girls’ bodies he finds attractive or accidentally-on-purpose walking into the bathroom while Sam’s changing. Little things that he can do right in front of Dad and Dad just laughs or absentmindedly tells him not to be an asshole. They’re alone the first time Dean really crosses the line. He sort of always pictured kissing Sam before he did anything else, but he doesn’t. Sam might not sit still for a kiss, might see it for what it is. So Dean teases him. Bets that Sam’s tiny down there, that he’s doing all of his growing in his legs and arms. Works Sammy up until he’s getting red in the face and tears in his eyes. Sam unzips for him so easy that Dean can hardly believe it. They measure facing each other, bumping toes so that Dean can point his dick at Sam’s pelvis and line them up side-by-side, inevitably brushing together, curling Dean’s toes in his boots. There’s a definite family resemblance. Both of their dicks are tip-heavy, with prominent veins on the shaft. Dean loves the filthy implications of the similarities. Only where Dean has a tangle of dark hair, Sam’s almost bare. And Sam’s little dick looks fun-sized by comparison. It all combines to make Dean twitch a little, chub up a little, leak some precome right into Sam’s patch of peach fuzz. Dean has to grab his dick and squeeze hard, tuck it back in fast and taunt Sam again so that he doesn’t get hard right there. When Sam goes to sleep that night, Dean yanks his dick so many times remembering the exact texture of Sam’s baby pubic hair damp with Dean’s slick he can’t come anymore and he’s raw and sore for days. It gets easier and easier to justify even if it starts getting harder to convince Sam to do what he wants. Sam’s stubborn streak is Dean’s salvation and his greatest frustration. Dean knows, can feel when he plans it and when he does it, that if Sam were younger, weaker, any more attached to Dean’s approval and praise, Dean would have him. Sam never resists, not really, but he doesn’t ever fully fall into the trap Dean’s set for him. Dean knows he started too late for him to have any chance of possessing Sam for real, for life. Sam hovers somewhere between little brother and the perfect toy of Dean’s darkest daydreams. It’s a space that Dean knows can’t be occupied for long. Someday Sam will finally escape his grasp and be lost to him. By the time he stumbles over a college application in Sam’s backpack, Dean almost expects it. Dean never does kiss him. End Notes original_tumblr_post | 2017_kink_bingo_card | challenge_progress_tag Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!