Word Count: 4,936
Beta Credit: firesign10, lotrspnfangirl
Warnings: Non-Con in ritual setting, Knifeplay
Summary: Sam saves Dean from being used in a ritual sacrifice. But can he save him from the aftereffects of the potion he was forced to drink?
A/N – Written for my October submission for smpc.
The brush whipped past Sam’s face as he ran towards the clearing, scoring his cheeks with small thorns. He wiped the moisture away and realized that it was droplets of blood from the scratches.
He had no time to worry about it. The moon was almost at its zenith and he needed to get to Dean before the ritual was completed.
Slowing down so he wouldn’t be heard, the events of the past two days flashed in Sam's mind.
Sam had been sitting at his laptop, searching for information on the disappearance of Mark Welborn, the man Bobby had sent them to Smithville, Arkansas to find, when Dean had come back to their room. They had been all over town, pretending to be private investigators looking to inform Mark of an inheritance.
“I got nothin’, Sammy.” Dean had shut the hotel room door with a thud when he’d entered. It had rattled the glass on the table next to Sam’s computer, a sure sign that Dean was frustrated. “No foul play, no heartbroken girlfriends, nothing.” He’d grabbed two beers from the fridge, handed one to Sam, and had flopped on the couch in a huff. “It’s like this guy fell off the face of the planet.”
Sam had popped open the cap on his. “I know what you mean. Bobby’s friend Joe forwarded me emails from his cousin Mark, and they all were about how happy he was here and how he’d finally ‘found a home’.” Sam had added air quotes. “Then two weeks, ago Joe said the emails just stopped.”
Dean had taken a swig of his beer. “I checked around town. Everyone who knew Mark Welborn said he was a great guy. No issues. But then he suddenly said he’d found a job in Idaho, packed up his stuff and disappeared.” He’d set the beer on the low table. “Paid everything up and split. No forwarding address for mail – I even found his last paycheck in the mailbox.” Dean had held up an envelope. “Who doesn’t pick up their last paycheck?”
“Someone who doesn’t need it. Take a look at this.” Sam had turned his computer around so Dean could see it. It had shown a list of missing-persons flyers, all men, going back at least thirty years. “These men all moved to Smithville to take a job, then inexplicably moved away after several months. Every one of their family members stated that they’d sent letters or emails claiming they’d finally found a home, then after a few weeks the correspondence suddenly stopped.”
Dean had moved to the table to get a better look. “And they all disappeared on or close to Halloween. Every seven years.” He’d looked at Sam. “You think Welborn is one of them?”
“Yeah, but why?” Sam had run his hands through his hair. “There’s nothing that indicates there’s anything going on in this town. No town legends, ghost stories, murders… it’s almost -”
“Stepford-like,” Dean had interrupted. “It’s too clean. Sam, pull the police blotter and see if you can find anything.”
Sam had searched, Dean practically vibrating next to him, and had come up with nothing. “That’s impossible. There’s absolutely nothing on the blotter except stuff like car accidents and minor vandalism.” He scoffed. “No town is this clean.”
“Right.” Dean had grinned at him. “So that means it’s all sorts of dirty.” He’d pointed at the screen. “Those missing men are our lead. We need to find out where they really went.”
So Sam had done what he did best – research. And Dean had done what he did best – flirting information out of the waitresses at the local bar.
A call to Bobby and a trip to the library’s local history section had given Sam the answers he’d needed. And they had not been good answers. He’d called Dean and had gotten no answer. Cursing his brother, he’d left a voicemail.
“Dean, I found out what’s going on. The reason why there’s no major crime in this town is that it’s protected by a fertility deity of some kind. And every seven years there’s a festival with a Lord and Maiden – complete with a sacrifice to the fertility deity to keep the town vibrant and healthy. I think Mark is this cycle’s sacrifice. Call me.”
Sam began moving again, making sure he didn’t step on any branches. The dry leaves made it difficult, but he figured he was far enough away from the clearing that they still wouldn’t be able to hear him. His thoughts went back to the rest of the events from earlier that night.
He’d gone back to their hotel room and waited for Dean’s call. Three hours later, Sam had still been waiting.
“Damn it, Dean!” Sam had grabbed his coat and headed for the bar. Dean’s bad habit might be hooking up with the locals, but he never did it in the middle of a job.
Except this time, apparently. According to the bartender, Dean had left with one of the waitresses about an hour prior. And no, he had refused to give Sam her address because they were of age and “looking very consensual, if you know what I mean”. The only thing that had stopped Sam from decking him was the threat of being thrown in jail and not being able to save Welborn in time.
Frustrated, Sam had gone back to the hotel and called Dean again. And again it had gone straight to voicemail. He’d then checked Dean’s GPS signal but found nothing.
His phone had rung in the middle of his search. “Dean?”
“No, it’s Bobby. Where’s Dean?” The older man’s voice had been worried.
“I don’t know. He’s not answering his phone and the GPS is off.”
“Balls! They must have switched him out!” Sam had been able to hear papers rustling and Bobby cursing.
“Switched him out? What are you talking about, Bobby?”
“Joe called and said that Mark showed up at his house this evening. He was dazed and couldn’t remember what happened to him. They must have grabbed Dean and plan to use him for the ritual instead.”
“Fuck!” Sam had felt his body grow cold at the thought of Dean being kidnapped and sacrificed. There was no way in hell he was going to let that happen. “Where the hell is this ritual, Bobby?”
“I don’t – wait!” Sam had heard more papers. “Get online and use your mojo to find the oldest piece of property outside the town limits. But hurry, you only have until the moon is at its highest tonight. That’s when they’ll perform the ritual. I’ll call if I find out any more information.” Bobby had hung up with a click.
Sam had grabbed his computer and had hastily searched the county records for the oldest deed...
His recollection was interrupted by the thud of drums and the sound of chanting. Squinting, Sam moved closer, trying to determine the layout and Dean’s location.
The clearing was small. Low boulders circled the rim, highlighted with torches at their bases. The fire threw the robed figures in the center into silhouette. As they danced, Sam could see shadows cast across the grassy floor, but he couldn’t see Dean.
He could hear their voices intoning the ancient words;
Dark as the turned earth;
Daughter of the deep well,
Reflecting stars in its depths;
Your thighs spill forth bounty
From between their dark cleft
Across the yearning land.”
The dancers increased their pace, the chanting getting louder and louder as the drum beats sped up. As it reached a crescendo, the dancers fell to the ground, revealing an ancient stone altar.
Where Dean was stretched out.
Sam swallowed a gasp, hoping that no one heard, and stared at his brother.
Dean was naked except for thick, brown ropes wrapped around his body. His skin glistened golden in the firelight, covered in some kind of oil, Sam thought. He could see Dean’s head twisting from side to side as he pulled against the restraints.
A male figure stepped up to the altar and grabbed Dean’s head, holding it still while another worked his jaw open and poured something from a metal chalice into Dean’s mouth. Dean spit the liquid all over the robes of the chalice-bearer and received a backhand for his trouble.
The figure gestured for another cup, this time holding Dean’s nose while they tried again. Sam heard Dean cough and could see him swallow this time. He prayed that it wasn’t poison, because he still hadn’t figured out a way to rescue his brother.
The drums started again, a deep thump, thump, thump, thump like the heartbeat of an ancient animal. The dancers resumed their chanting as Dean began to writhe, his face contorted in the torchlight. Dean’s hips thrust helplessly in the air and Sam saw his cock hardening. Ice swept through Sam as he realized the people in the clearing must have given Dean an aphrodisiac.
Sam’s attention was caught by a female standing between two of the boulders. She was naked and oiled as well, her hair long and dark, breasts heavy. She walked over to the altar, hips swaying to the drumbeat. As she got closer, Sam saw the knife in her hand, its blade glinting in the firelight.
Sam had to do something, he couldn’t watch Dean be used and sacrificed like this. Looking around, he saw a small shed tucked away behind a tree. Making his way silently to the building, he kept an eye on the activity in the clearing.
The figures at the altar lifted the woman so she was kneeling between Dean’s legs. Sam watched as she took Dean’s cock in her hand, stroking it. The knife blade glided over Dean’s chest and Sam knew she was cutting him from the little jerks of the blade. She leaned down and kissed the spots where the knife had been, licking and sucking at the wounds.
He couldn’t hear Dean’s voice over the chanting, but Sam could see his lips moving and knew that he was cursing. The woman silenced Dean with a kiss, rubbing her body over his.
Sam focused on the shed, picking the lock on the door. He slipped inside and looked around for anything to cause a distraction. He found gasoline, some old rags and a mason jar – perfect for an improvised Molotov cocktail.
Quickly, Sam put together two jars, soaking the tips of the rags in gasoline before cutting a small hole in the lids and shoving the cloth in. He closed the door and hurried back to his spot at the edge of the clearing.
What he saw made him curse.
Dean’s face was twisted, from pain or arousal, Sam couldn’t tell which. His brother’s hips were bucking as the girl sucked his cock, while the other two figures were continuing to cut him with knives. Dean’s body was covered in shallow cuts, his blood oozing and painting his skin crimson.
The girl climbed up, positioned herself over Dean’s cock, and sank down. She began rolling her hips, her movements in time to the beat of the drums. The glow of the torches cast gold on her skin and left Dean in shadow. She rocked back and forth, her eyes closed, her hair whipping about her shoulders, clearly chasing her orgasm.
Sam knew from his research that if he didn’t act immediately, Dean would be killed, his throat slit, as soon as she came.
He lit the rags on the first jar and threw it as hard as he could, praying that it reached the bale of hay on the other side of the clearing. The jar flew through the air and landed at the base of the hay, exploding on impact. The flames licked up the hay bale, stretching out across it in a small inferno.
The drums stuttered to a stop as the dancers started shouting and breaking their formation. Sam lit the other rag and tossed the second jar towards the other side of the clearing, igniting a second hay bale.
Through the flames and chaos, he rushed to the altar, dodging and punching his way to Dean. The woman was still riding him, her drug-induced haze making her oblivious to the encroaching fire. Sam scrambled up behind her on the flat stone and pushed her forward, freeing Dean’s cock before he dropped her down onto the grass and jumped down. Pulling out his knife, he made quick work of the ropes binding his brother.
Dean rolled over onto his side with a moan. The scattered cuts on his body dripped red onto the stone. Sam tilted Dean’s head up, checking his eyes; they were glassy and unfocused.
Shit! Dean was still under the influence of the aphrodisiac and Sam knew there was no way he would be able to make it back to the Impala under his own power.
“C’mon, Dean. Gotta carry you.” Sam hoisted Dean onto his back in a fireman’s carry. “Fuck, Dean, you’ve gotta lay off the pie,” he muttered as he staggered back under Dean’s weight. Settling Dean’s body against his, Sam couldn’t help but notice Dean’s hard cock pressing against his back. It sent a jolt of – something – down his spine that he chose to ignore at the moment. Turning around, he came face to face with one of the dancers, a large man that Sam thought was the mayor.
“Put him down.” The man’s voice was gruff. Sam did the only thing he could think of. He whirled around and let Dean’s feet clock the other guy in the jaw. It worked and the man fell like a ton of bricks.
A quick glance around the clearing told Sam that everyone else was focused on putting out the fires. He slipped into the cover of the trees and made his way back the Impala.
“Okay, Dean, you’ve got to help me here,” he said as he slid Dean from his shoulders and leaned him up against the car. His brother was shivering, but Sam could see that his eyes were more aware. “I need to get the blanket from the back. Can you stay upright?”
“Yeah…think so….” Dean’s voice was hoarse.
Sam opened the back door and grabbed the blanket they kept in the back for emergencies. Wrapping it around Dean, he eased him onto the passenger seat. Sliding in behind the wheel, Sam cranked the motor and got them out of town as fast as he could.
He turned on the radio to the classic rock station and heard Paradise by the Dashboard Light playing quietly under the sound of the Impala’s engine. His phone rang as he turned onto a two-lane headed towards the Arkansas border.
“Hey, Bobby…” he began, only to be cut off.
“Tell me you have Dean!” Bobby’s voice was panicked.
“Yeah, I was able to get him before they completed the ritual.”
“Did they give him a potion?”
“Yeah, some sort of aphrodisiac, I think.”
“Has he come yet?”
Sam frowned at the question. “Huh?”
“Has Dean come yet?”
“Bobby…” Sam figured he was distracted by the evening’s events - surely Bobby wasn’t asking what he seemed to be asking?
“I don’t have time for PC talk, Sam. Has Dean had an orgasm?”
“No! What the -”
“Listen to me, Sam! That town wasn’t just worshiping any fertility deity, they were worshiping the Norse goddess, Jord. The ritual requires the supplicants to have sex and orgasm before the female spills the male’s blood.”
“Yeah, I kind of got that when she was fucking Dean on the altar and slicing him up with a knife.”
“The potion they gave Dean – it’s not just an aphrodisiac. It’s a fertility potion. The lore says if he doesn’t have an orgasm and plant his seed into a willing vessel, he’ll die. Is he shivering?”
Sam looked over at Dean. His brother was hunched under the blanket but Sam could see that he was shaking. “Yeah...”
“Balls! Ask him if he feels like his skin is on fire.”
“Dean, Bobby wants to know if you feel like your skin is on fire.”
“Yeah, like millions of ants are under my skin.” Dean pulled the blanket tighter. “But I’m freezing at the same time, too.”
“He says yes but that he’s cold, too.” Sam glanced over at his brother and realized that Dean had begun to rock his hips. Sam didn’t think he realized what he was doing. “What do we do?”
“Dean’s got to get the potion out of his system and the only way is through orgasm.” Bobby paused. ”You’re gonna have to help him, Sam.”
“What?!” Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“It’s the only way! A hand job won’t do it - it’s gotta be full-on sex.”
“You have got to be kidding!” But Sam knew from Bobby’s voice that he wasn’t.
Dean was going to die if he didn’t get the potion out of his system. And Sam was the only one who could help him.
Dean’s moan echoed in the car. “Fuck, Sammy, hurts.” The blanket had fallen open and Sam could see Dean’s fist around his cock, sliding up and down the hard shaft. His brother moaned again and moved his hand faster.
“Bobby, I need to go.” Sam hung up the phone and pulled the Impala to the side of the road. He turned off the car and faced Dean. “Dean, I need you to focus on me, can you do that?”
Dean shuddered, his hips jerking. “Yeah, think so…”
“Bobby says what they gave you was a fertility potion and the only way for you to survive it is to come.”
“Trying, Sammy. It’s not working.” Dean was panting as he stripped his cock harder. “I get there and nothing happens.”
“No. It’s gotta be sex, Dean.” Sam made sure Dean was looking at him. “The whole thing. Not just a hand job.”
“Well, fuck, Sam!” Dean growled. His face was pale, and Sam could see sweat dripping from his temple, the drops mixing with the blood welling from his cuts. “We are in the middle of a friggin’ cornfield. Where the hell am I gonna find a willing female this time of night?”
Sam’s mouth dried up. “You’re not.” This was going to be more difficult than he thought. Sam knew what he had to do and had no qualms about it. Convincing Dean on the other hand…
“Then how the hell are we supposed to fix this?” Dean’s voice interrupted his thoughts as his brother gestured to his dick.
Sam couldn’t help but look. Dean’s cock was rigid, the tip red and glistening. His brother’s hand was still sliding up and down the shaft and for a moment, Sam lost himself in the motion. The sound of Dean’s harsh breathing was the only noise in the car.
“I’m gonna help you.”
“What, you’re gonna let me fuck you?” Dean laughed harshly. Sam knew Dean understood by the way his laughter died. “No! No way!”
“Dean, it’s the only way you’ll survive. Let me do this,” Sam pleaded.
“Sam, it’s all sorts of wrong!” Dean shook his head in denial, eyes wide in his face.
“Why? Because we’re related? Dean, you know I’ll do anything for you. You’re my brother, and if this is what it takes to save you? Then fine! Besides, it’s not like I’ve never done this before.”
“Wait – you’ve…?” Dean looked confused.
“Yeah,” Sam admitted in a low voice. “I’ve had sex with guys.”
“Stanford. Before Jessica and I got together. I was going through some things, and it…happened.” Sam shrugged, trying to make light of the memory. There were reasons, and maybe one day he would tell them to Dean, but now was not the time.
“Sam, I can’t -” Suddenly Dean spasmed, his body jerking helplessly against the door of the Impala, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“Dean!” Sam knew they had to finish this, and fast. He shoved himself out of the Impala and dashed around to the passenger side. Opening the door, he eased Dean to the ground, making sure that the blanket was protecting him from the damp ground.
Dean arched up with a gasp, his eyes flying open. “Sam!”
“I’m here.” He held Dean as he violently coughed.
“Hurts, Sammy,” Dean whispered.
“I know. You gotta let me do this, Dean. Please.”
“Okay…okay.” Dean looked up at him with a wan smile. “But I’m not usually that easy. You better respect me in the morning.”
Sam chuckled. “You know I will. I’ll even buy you dinner. Complete with pie.”
“So…” Dean paused. “How do we do this?”
Sam could see the uncertainty on Dean’s face. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” He stood and went to the trunk. Opening it up, he fished through their duffels until he found the bottle of lube Dean kept “for emergencies”. He had to laugh when he saw that the bottle was labeled “apple pie flavored”.
Stripping off his clothes and leaving them in the trunk, Sam returned to the side of the car.
The Impala’s interior light shone dimly over Dean’s face and Sam could see Dean looking at him, his eyes traveling up Sam’s body. Dean smiled. “Damn, Sammy. Hadn’t realized how ripped you’ve gotten. No wonder the girls want you to fuck them.”
Sam knew he was blushing and was glad that it was dark out. His cock liked the compliment too and started to fill.
Dean’s gaze shot to Sam’s rapidly swelling dick and Sam saw him lick his lips. Dean’s hand slid back to his cock and began rubbing it again.
Sam took a second to appreciate the sight of Dean splayed out on the blanket; hand on his dick, like he was a present just for Sam. A small part of his brain reveled in the fact that he would get to have Dean like this, even if the reason was life or death.
Sam dropped down on his knees and covered Dean’s hand with his own. “Let me.” He stroked Dean’s cock, gripping hard, then swiping over the head like he’d seen Dean do when he’d been jacking off and didn’t think Sam could see. Dean felt good in Sam’s hand – solid and strong, like he was meant to be there, like Sam was always supposed to take care of his brother in this way. Sam’s cock jumped at the thought and he had to squeeze himself so he wouldn’t shoot off like a teenager.
“Fuck, Sammy… feels good.” Dean moaned and rocked his hips deeper into Sam’s hand. Sam caressed his balls, causing Dean to whine and his dick to jerk. “Wanna feel your mouth on me. Please, Sam….”
Sam obliged, slithering down so his face was even with Dean’s cock. Slowly he mouthed it, holding Dean’s hips as he slid Dean’s erection deeper into his throat. He inhaled, scenting Dean, tasting him, and it was glorious.
Sam swirled his tongue around the head of Dean’s cock and dipped into the slit. Dean hissed and cursed Sam before begging him to do it again. Using his hands to stroke Dean’s cock and balls, Sam sucked and caressed Dean until he was a writhing mess under him.
“Sammy, fuck. Need to come…” Dean sobbed as Sam continued. “Now, oh God…”
Sam knew that Dean had to come soon – the moon had been rising and he was sure it would soon be overhead, but he didn’t want to stop. The voice in the back of his mind was telling him that this was where he needed to be – where he should have been all along.
“Sam…Sammy…stop. Hurts, oh God!” Dean pulled out of Sam’s mouth with a moan and rolled to his side. Shudders wracked his body and he started coughing. Sam scrambled to his side and lifted Dean’s head.
“Sam...” Dean wiped his mouth, his hand coming away with flecks of blood. “If we’re gonna do this, we need to do it now.” He looked at Sam, his eyes haunted. “Not sure I can last much longer.”
Sam knew Dean wasn’t talking about sex. He cursed himself for losing track of time and getting wrapped up in sucking Dean’s cock.
“S’ok.” Dean gave him a small grin. “I know my cock is worth worshiping.”
Sam chuckled. “Jerk.”
“Bitch,” Dean began before another spasm shook him. “Oh God… hurry, Sam…”
“Gotta get ready for you.” Sam flipped open the cap to the lube and squirted the slick onto his fingers. He started to reach around himself, but Dean grabbed his hand.
“Wait. I thought you had to fuck me?”
“No, the lore says that the male has to come unprotected inside the female in order to complete the ritual.” Sam chuckled. “I guess this really does make me the girl.”
Sam could see Dean’s eyes darken. “You could never be the girl, Sam.” The want in his voice sent waves of arousal through Sam’s body. He needed to have Dean inside him, and not just because of the potion.
Sam reached around himself again and lightly swirled around his hole. It had been too long and he’d forgotten how good it felt. Pressing in, he gently rocked his finger in and out, up to the second knuckle and back. He added another finger and began scissoring, stretching, making himself ready for Dean’s cock.
Suddenly he felt a third finger, and it didn’t belong to him. He whimpered as he realized Dean had pushed his index finger in between Sam’s and was helping him stretch.
“Dean!” Sam gasped as Dean’s finger brushed against his prostate. “Oh God, right there!”
He rocked back on their fingers, feeling the sparks fly every time Dean put pressure on the bundle of nerves inside him.
“Gotta stop, Dean. Gonna come.”
“No you’re not.” He felt Dean slip his finger out. “You’re gonna come with me inside you.”
Sam groaned at Dean’s words. “Okay… okay. I’m ready.” He pulled his fingers out and slung a leg over Dean’s hips. “Gonna do it this way. It’ll be easier on you.”
Sam raised his hips and positioned Dean’s cock at his entrance. He looked down at his brother, knowing that once Dean breached him, nothing would ever be the same.
Dean grinned at him and gave him a wink. “It’s gonna be okay, Sam.” Sam felt him buck his hips and the head of his cock nudged Sam’s hole. “Come on, cowboy. Ride me.”
That was all he needed. Sam slowly sank down on Dean’s cock, feeling it split him open, until Dean was completely inside him.
“Fuck, Sam. So fucking tight.” Dean’s eyes were closed. “Gotta move… feel so fucking good around my cock.”
Sam began to rock, pulling Dean in deeper and deeper. He cried out as Dean hit his prostate. Up and down, rolling his hips, he helped Dean aim for that perfect spot.
“Beautiful…” he heard Dean whisper, and looked down at his brother. Dean’s eyes were huge, staring at Sam like he was something precious. “God… never knew how beautiful you’d look riding my dick.” Sam felt Dean’s hand on his chest, right above his heart.
“Harder, Dean,” Sam begged. “Wanna come on your cock.” Dean arched up, his muscles fucking him into Sam until he could practically feel it in his throat. “Oh God yes!”
Then Dean’s hand was on Sam’s cock, jerking him in time with his thrusts. Dean’s voice was wrecked. “Come on, Sam, wanna feel you coming.”
Sam felt the pressure in his spine and knew he was close. “God, Dean, now! Fuck!”
Dean bucked harder and that was enough. With a shout, Sam came, sending ropes of white across their bellies. He clenched down on Dean, his orgasm burning through him, longer and harder than it had ever been.
Dean was right behind him, screaming Sam’s name, filling him until there was no more room, his cock pulsing over and over.
It felt like forever before they finished coming. When they were through, Sam slid off, taking care not to lean too heavily on Dean. He could feel come dripping onto his thighs, but he really didn’t care. His eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion overtaking him.
Sam opened his eyes with the dawning sun and realized that they were still on the side of the road. His head was pillowed on Dean’s shoulder and his leg was thrown across Dean’s hips. And they were still naked.
“Dean?” Sam lurched up. He quickly reached for Dean’s neck to check for a pulse.
“I’m fine.” Dean growled the words without opening his eyes. “My ass is sore from sleeping on the ground.” He paused and opened his eyes, giving Sam a big grin. “But probably not as sore as yours.”
“You’re alive!” Sam ignored the snide comment, relief filling his body.
“Yeah,” Dean sat up with a groan. “Looks like it worked.” Sam watched as Dean stood up, stretched, and walked to the back of the Impala. “C’mon. You better get dressed.” Dean tossed Sam his clothes from the night before. “I need coffee.”
“Uh, don’t you want to talk about it?” Sam grabbed his underwear and stood up to put them on, grimacing at the dried come all over his stomach.
“Nope.” Dean shrugged into a t-shirt. “Not before coffee. And definitely not before pie.”
Dean climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Pie, Sammy. I was promised pie!”
Sam grinned as he finished getting dressed. He knew that sometime in the near future they would have to talk about this, but not today. Today was for just enjoying the fact that his brother was alive. He climbed into the passenger seat, cranked the radio up and turned to Dean.
“Okay, let’s go get some pie.”