Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9770426.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Eleanor_Visyak, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester, OFC,
      OMC
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-02-15 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 3017
****** Evil Author Day Snippet 2017 - Incubus ******
by Lizbug
Summary
     There wasn’t a really before and after. As much as a continuum of
     action and reaction, slur and withdrawal that left him with emotional
     walls so high and thick that no affectionate siege mounted by his
     brother or his father, were they to attempt one, would ever have
     succeeded in breaching them. Then there were the lingering glances,
     the touches, and finally the all-out violations perpetrated by the
     catalogue of unseemly characters that tended to congregate in just
     the sort of places his father liked to stay. The sort of places that
     didn’t ask questions about two kids alone most of the time. Add in a
     penchant for attracting the supernatural, like say, two storm daemons
     who happened to be ready for some company, and it was practically a
     foregone conclusion.
     - Excerpt from the case-notes of Dr Eleanor Visyak, subject
     YDW240179.
Notes
     I'm right smack bang in the middle of exams so I've had to take a
     break from writing. Having said that they finish next week so I'll be
     continuing the works that are currently in progress with the
     unfinished but semi-published ones taking precedence.
     "Incubus" (Provisional title) has been on my computer for a while and
     is completely unbetaed. It is currently only a beginning with a vague
     inkling of where it might go. But since it's evil author day and I
     haven't posted any updates in a while I figure it's better than
     nothing. I'll leave this excerpt here while I'm working on it (and
     the rest of my fic) and will take it down again when I'm ready to
     post the actual story, which may bear some or no resemblance to what
     I have here.
     Hope you enjoy it x
     P.S. No I haven’t spelt daemon wrong, I’m trying to differentiate
     between the demons of Christian theology and the daemons of Greek
     myth and pre Christian period.
***** Chapter 1 *****
There wasn’t a really before and after. As much as a continuum of action and
reaction, slur and withdrawal that left him with emotional walls so high and
thick that no affectionate siege mounted by his brother or his father, were
they to attempt one, would ever have succeeded in breaching them. Then there
were the lingering glances, the touches, and finally the all-out violations
perpetrated by the catalogue of unseemly characters that tended to congregate
in just the sort of places his father liked to stay. The sorts of places that
didn’t ask questions about two kids alone most of the time. Add in a penchant
for attracting the supernatural, like say, two storm daemons who happened to be
ready for some company, and it was practically a foregone conclusion.
    * Excerpt from the case-notes of Dr Eleanor Visyak, subject YDW240179.
 
 
By the time Dean realised what they were, these voices in his head telling him
to give himself over to the rage and self-loathing he felt, it was already too
late. The shield he had held onto all this time was gone, shattered in the time
it took his brother to say two words.
His purpose was gone, battered by harsh words at ear splitting volumes before
sneaking off into the night as first one and then the other remaining member of
his family left him clinging to the wreckage of a life that suddenly made no
sense. A life that could no longer drown out the words. Insidious voices that
murmured to him every time some busty barfly gave him the eye or a mark turned
out to be more interested in his ass than the felt. Soft whispers in his ear
telling him exactly how the manager of some seedy motel was hoping to spend his
evening and exactly why it was all Dean was good for.
This half-life was all he was worth, all anyone wanted him for. His family was
an illusion that had kept him weak, made him easy to manipulate. The anger
would make him strong, it would make his body a weapon to be used as he wanted.
He didn’t have to be that scared kid in the sleazy motel or the
overcompensating teen under the bleachers. He could turn their lust against
them, use it like they used him, and could finally stop being afraid.
Yep, Dean had finally realised what the voices were. Unfortunately, by the time
he did, they’d already had at least ten years to work on him. That’s when he
could first remember hearing them, or at least that was the time that the
hypnotherapy took him back to when Ellie had talked him into doing it with
promises of pie warm from the oven. It hadn’t been worth it, not with the
nightmares that followed of losing his virginity in lieu of the rent Dad hadn’t
left him the money for. Twelve years old in the manager’s office, the sharp
edge of the desk digging into his stomach and his teeth gouging into his
forearm.
So yeah, maybe just after that when he was limping back to the room to make
mac’n’cheese for Sammy was when he first heard them. And then after that every
so often until they’d merged with his own internal monologue and he couldn’t
really tell the difference.
He didn’t really feel any different from how he’d always felt, or at least he
didn’t think so. It was so hard to tell. How much was him and how much was the
daemons’ influence? He doubted he’d ever know, but it irritated him thinking
that someone else held so much sway over him.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Warning: Sex and Language
Dean was so used to heeding the hurried warnings of his dad and brother that he
obeyed the frantic shout of “Down!” without any hesitation, which was lucky
because the skeevy old lady ghost with the fuckin’ axe very nearly took off his
head before a shower of salt made her flicker out.
That the shout hadn’t come from his brother, who had run away to Stanford, or
his father, who’d hightailed it away from Dean at the first opportunity, didn’t
register until Dean was regaining his feet. He span, rock salt shotgun at the
ready, to be confronted with the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
She was pouring another handful of salt from the canister in her hand, her gaze
scanning the room for the ghost, “I hope you’ve at least got iron rounds in
that thing, if not make yourself useful and get the hell out of here.”
God, even her voice was gorgeous. Dean found himself sneaking glances at her
even while still searching for the vengeful spirits next appearance. She was
slender, curvy in all the good ways which sent blood rushing down to his…Come
on Dean! Priorities!“Salt rounds actually. You a Hunter?” She smiled, pink
tongue moistening ruby red lips in a way that sent his thoughts below his belt
again, “Of a kind.”
He figures that sort of cryptic answer is what he deserves for asking such a
dipshit question in the first place. Of course she’s a Hunter, who else
casually strolls into a haunted house with salt and a shovel. Deep coffee
coloured eyes meet his and time elongates. His breath catches in his chest and
he wants to go to her, mould his body to hers and just sink into her. Wants her
like he’s never wanted another person in his life, but can’t have her because,
yep, house is still haunted.
This time it’s his turn to shout and hers to get dusty as the ghost appears
behind her, wide eyed and screaming. He lets off a barrel and the ghost
vanishes only to reappear immediately to his right. He can’t bring the gun to
bear in time and the Huntress is still getting up from the floor. He braces
himself for impact, for the bite of ghostly steel and gets a mouthful of ash as
she shoots up in flames. “Good timing.” The girl/woman/goddess is dusting
herself off as she speaks and he moves to help her. Hands first brushing
against her arms and then stilling, palms warm against the leather of her
jacket, as a rush of desire floods his system. She’s smiling again, then her
hand rests against his chest as she dusts him off in return. “The name’s
Meridiana, call me Meri.” Meridiana, the name skims his memory somewhere,
probably his dad mentioned her or something.
She’s looking at him expectantly and he stammers out his name, feeling the tips
of his ears heat in an unmistakeable blush. She laughs, throaty and full and
sweeps her palm further up his chest, hand cradling his face. Heat seems to
spread from her touch and he can’t help but lean into it, turning his head so
that his lips brush against her skin. He exhales against her and his intent
gaze catches the dilation of her pupils, the quick canting of her hips towards
him. At least it’s not just him.
He forces himself to take a step back, swallowing down the moan that wants to
rise to the surface. “Thanks for the assist. I’d have been in big trouble if
you hadn’t shown up.” Her body is almost leaning towards him, like iron pilings
drawn towards a magnet, and he wants so badly for her to take that step that he
almost doesn’t notice when she does. She’s close again and his heart’s racing,
his blood pounding in a constant rhythm of mine, mine. “My pleasure Dean and,
if you wouldn’t mind? Perhaps you could return the favour?” She needs something
from him. From him? He’s almost as desperate to be needed again as he is for
Sam to come back, for his dad to walk through the door. He nods silently and
she smiles again, “Don’t say yes until you know what it is.”
 
                                      ***
 
They leave the house together, bodies not quite touching as they take the
rickety steps two at a time. There’s a man waiting near the impala, tall and
strong and with a smile in his eyes for Meri that has Dean swallowing down a
surge of jealousy. Although if he’s truly honest with himself he’s not sure
whether he’s jealous of the man or of Meri or of them both for that shared
look.
The thought stops him dead in his tracks and suspicion rises like bile in his
throat. Never in all these years of trading himself, of fucking and being
fucked, has he ever been attracted to a man. Not in the primal, ‘want you now’
way he’s feeling looking at Meri’s partner. Sure he’s got off, but that’s just
friction and angles and biology. Now he’s looking at this guy. Mr tall, dark
and oh so handsome and he’s feeling what seems suspiciously like arousal. And
it’s not even the chiselled cheekbones, or the piercing blue eyes, or the way
his t-shirt is subtly sticking to his nicely defined abs. There’s just
something about him that pulls at Dean, sharp tugs of heat deep in his gut. He
resists the urge to walk forward, breathes out slow and controlled. The guy
laughs, a delighted chuckle, but he doesn’t come closer and Dean has to shake
his head to clear that little twinge of disappointment. The smile aimed in his
direction is predatory, almost feral, “Oh yes. You’re the one we need.”
Dean has to grind his heels into the dirt to stop himself from sprinting
forward and plastering himself against the guy.
 
“Dean?” Meri’s voice caused Dean to break the heated staring match. She had
turned towards him as he slowed and stopped, tilting her head questioningly.
She gestured towards the man, “This is Zen. You can thank him for saving both
our butts back there.” She’s looking at him, and it’s not the same look but,
for a moment, he gets a small hint of belonging. There’s a warm hand on his arm
and she’s asking him to follow. He shrugs aside the tingle up his spine that
tells him something’s not quite right. He takes one step, then another towards
her and the promise of something more. Then he takes her hand and leads her
towards the impala, nodding for Zen to follow in their own car.
 
                                      ***
 
Dean can hardly remember the drive to the motel, just heat sweeping through his
body and the streetlights gleaming on ebony curls. Absently he notices her
stepping over salt lines and walking straight through devil’s traps. Then she
turns and her smile invites him in, and there’s nothing but want and his cock
hard and leaking in his jeans.
They meet at the bed, hands tearing at clothes and Dean gasps as her cool hand
wraps around the burning heat of his shaft. His hips jerk involuntarily,
rocking against her and he thinks he might go insane if he doesn’t get more. He
bends his head, his mouth seeking hers as they finally shuck their clothing and
collapse onto the lumpy motel mattress. The force drives the air from her lungs
and he eases up only to be dragged back down, their exhaled breaths mingling as
he thrusts his tongue into her mouth, revelling in her breathy moans.
Her nipples pebble as the roughened skin of his palms brush up against them and
over her ribs, she rolls her hips in response, the undulation trapping his
leaking cock between their bodies, smearing their heated skin with pre-come.
She guides his hand down to her slick entrance, his thumb kneading her clit and
he’s torn between exploring every inch of her and just letting go and pounding
into oblivion. The thought vanishes in a wave of heat as she surges against him
again, his swollen cock nudging at her entrance. Her nails claw at him as she
grabs his ass and yanks him forward, engulfing him in hottightbliss. “Fuck!
Meri!”
He can feel her smirk against his mouth as she wraps her legs around his hips
and something about this should probably strike him as wrong but then he’s
ball’s deep in her and it’s all he can do not to come right then. He slips his
arms under her shoulders, fingers slipping through the silken strands of her
hair. Her eyes are lidded as she reaches up to pull him into the next ardent
kiss but something makes him resist and he rests on his elbows as he grinds his
hips down, his pubis bone dragging against her clit with every movement. Her
eyes open fully as her gaze meets his and it’s a real smile this time instead
of that calculating smirk, “C’mon Dean, fuck me.” She leans up on her own
elbows, bare breasts skimming his chest. The whisper of her breath against his
ear sends a shudder through his body, “You gonna make me scream your name Dean?
Fill me up with your come?”
He tugs her back with the hand tangled in her hair, following her down with his
mouth on hers. The other hand he uses to hitch her leg up higher in order to
thrust deeper, setting up a punishing rhythm. He has to transfer his hand to
her shoulder to keep from pushing her up the bed, crushing her to him as she
plunders his mouth. They moan in tandem as each thrust drives them higher and
higher towards ecstasy. Dean is lost in the feel of her around him, the drag
against his cock-head as her walls contract, his rhythm stutters as he moves
closer and closer to the edge. With a final cry she squeezes around his shaft,
holding him tightly inside her as his vision whites out and he comes in thick
streams inside her.
 
He comes to with panting breaths and shifts to claim her mouth again in
languorous kisses, wanting to keep her close even as he eases himself out of
her. Meri stops his movement with a hand on his ass, then rolls them over until
she’s settled on top of him. The motion sends tingles along his nerve endings
and it should be uncomfortable but it’s not, “Oh no Dean. I’m not done with you
yet.” She pivots her hips just as he grabs her thighs to try and stop her,
bracing himself for the friction on his over sensitised and softening cock.
Then he realises, I’m still hard. His eyes shoot to her face, pushing down
momentary panic at her wicked grin. Then the heat washes over him again and
he’s responding even while he’s fighting against it. Thrusting up into her
while she rides him with abandon. “God Meri please. Meri, please more.” He’s
lost in the feel of her, the scent of her skin, the sight of her rising above
him, and the pounding heat in his blood.
                                      ***
                                        
Dean becomes aware again sometime around orgasm seven. They’ve changed
positions again, kneeling on the bed with her shoulder blades pressed against
his chest. He feathers kisses down her neck as one hand fondles her breast. The
other is buried between her legs, stroking his cock where it enters her and
tracing patterns around her clit. His own legs are trembling with exhaustion,
random muscle twitches throwing off his thrusts as he struggles to remain
upright, or even semi-conscious. He climaxes again before falling back onto the
bed, his chest heaving as he labours for oxygen.
He can’t even raise the energy to protest as she writhes against him, coming
down from her own climax. He still turns into her caress though, phantom traces
of warmth trailing across his skin. She kisses him, slow and deep, her tongue
licking into his mouth, then snuggles down onto his chest, hair splaying out
against his outstretched arm. His eyes begin to drift closed with every inhale
and a little voice at the back of his mind is wondering whether he’s going to
wake up again.
His eyebrows twitch into a frown as his fingertips brush against something hard
and he tries to focus. It’s his phone, discarded onto the bed when he’d walked
in. He fumbles for it with uncooperative fingers, glancing down into deep brown
eyes. “You’re not really going to do that are you Dean?” He searches her face
for a moment, hand clutched around his silicon lifeline. No I’m not, he
realises as he curls his arm around her and settles back onto the bed,
“Besides, you still owe me that favour.”
 
                                      ***
 
Dean wakes to an absence of heat. He reaches out for it even though he knows it
should be a relief to have it gone, to have her gone. Before the fire that she
ignites consumes him and he loses himself again. He should phone Bobby or
Caleb, hell even his dad, let them pull his ass out of the fire. He blinks open
sleep gritted eyes and sees the figure sat in the chair opposite the bed,
“Fuck!” He scrambles back on the bed, reaching for a weapon he knows isn’t
there.
The figure coalesces as it rises from the chair and stalks towards him, “Zen?”
Dean rubs at his eyes peeling away the gunk that had gathered while he lay in
exhausted slumber, “Mmmm” Zen’s affirmation, half purr, half predatory, was
enough for Dean’s cock to start paying attention again. “When did you get here?
Where’s Meri?” Dean questions the wisdom of staying still as a warm hand
explores his bare leg. “Oh I arrived somewhere around round three, but you
weren’t paying much attention at the time. That was quite the show you put on
for me.” Shit! I didn’t even notice him come in? What the hell is wrong with
me?
“Meridiana has gone to fetch some breakfast. It’s the most important meal of
the day you know.” Hands ghosted over Dean’s hips as a jean covered knee
settled in between his thighs, he opened eyes he hadn’t realised he’d closed.
He was frozen as the other man’s body settled against his, piercing blue eyes
holding him transfixed.
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