Work Text:
“Easy, darling, easy,” Dean said from behind him and he whined in response. He wasn’t doing anything. He couldn’t do anything, he was immobilised and stuck and ahh !
Dean twisted the plug and it screwed in a little deeper.
“Please, Dean. Dean, I can't, I can't!”
It was too big, and too long, and the knobbly protrusions pushed too hard against the tender insides of his ass and he needed it out . He tried, he thrashed and threw his weight forward but the spreader bar kept his legs wide apart and his face was crushed to the floor with his hands pulled under his body and tied to the bar too.
“That’s Sir, to you, Sammy,” Dean said with a swat to his ass.
He moaned at that, loving the heat and the blush it spread. He was already humiliated, having to be tied down just to endure this but his body didn’t care; it loved Dean’s hands on him any way that it happened. If it was Dean’s fist in his ass he knew he’d manage much more easily than this solid, slicked up silicone.
“Sir, it’s too big, get it out getitout!”
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it.” The thick plug rotated again and sank deeper, pressing up along his prostate and filling him up so much he thought he would burst.
“I don’t,” he whined, desperation tinging his voice. “Please, this is too soon, I can feel that it’s too soon. I can't wear this.”
The pressure let up a little and hands stroked his backside, fondled his balls, his cock—which had shrunk and gone flaccid once the discomfort had ratcheted up too high. He softened further under the touches, his body going lax as tears sprang to his eyes and he shook his head. Angry at how tough this was, how emotional and pathetic he felt, how easily he subdued under just a few light touches and some quick petting.
“You know I’m right, and you know we’re on schedule. Don’t play dumb it doesn’t suit you.”
He sobbed into the rug under his face. Rolled his hips and gasped at the solidity of the plug filling him up. His shoulders burned and his hips ached from the position and he wanted this to be over. “I’ll be good, I’ll practice relaxing, you don’t have to do this.”
Dean was at his head in a moment, stroking his hair and massaging his temples and down his neck. “Sam, love, you know it’s not enough.”
He sighed, relented. Why did he always have to fight? What good did it ever do except to exhaust him and make him need Dean’s reassurance in the end?
“I know.” He had to choke the words out, not wanting them to be true. He trusted Dean; he just couldn’t trust his body to handle this part of the process and it happened every month.
“I don’t want to hurt you when I shift, and I won’t let that happen.”
“I know that too,” he mumbled to the floor.
“So I’m going to do what I do every month and follow the plan we set out and use this bigger plug until you can take it without problem. And then we’ll move to the next size, and you will thank me for it.”
Dean pulled sharply on his hair and he whined as he was forced to look his Master in the eye.
“It hurts,” he said, just holding off on pleading again.
“No, it doesn’t, you just don’t like it.”
“Would you?” He said, earning another sharp tug on his hair.
“Probably not, but I’m not the one who’s going to get fucked and knotted in the ass by a werewolf in ten days so…” Dean leaned down and nipped at his lower lip until Sam whimpered. His over-sharp canines were always a turn on, a thrill that sang through Sam’s veins at the inherent danger even though they were always used—on him, at least—with such restraint.
The quick burst of pain followed by a careful licking into his mouth, invading his senses with heat and pleasure was overwhelming. It made him relax and crave more of Dean’s ministrations. Dean let go of his hair and he moaned in thanks at his head being laid on the floor again, to a soft chuckle from Dean.
“Now, I don’t want you locked to a spreader bar all day, so let me finish, and we can move on to other things, okay?”
“Yes,” he replied with a shuddering breath, all too aware again of how exposed he was, how full he felt.
Dean stroked the collar around his throat and Sam longed to be free to move, to lean into the touch.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir,” he answered breathily.
“Good boy.”
Once the plug was in, Dean unhooked his hands and massaged his shoulders before making quick work of tying his wrist to the coffee table, leaving him spread out across the floor. He wiggled his ass, trying to get used to the feeling. He was hard again, desperately, and unlikely to find himself in any other state with the plug snuggly sitting up against his prostate and shifting with every motion of his body.
Dean sat on his back and the weight was comforting, if a little controlling.
“Now, you stay right there and get used to that, I’m going to go get started on lunch.”
Dean’s hands were careful, tender where they massaged him, and Sam groaned in response. He left Sam splayed on the floor and Sam was too worn out to argue. He was full to the brim and every clench made him more aware of it, and even when he relaxed the girth and length of the plug was immense. He tried to focus on his cock, on the arousal, and it worked. He knew why Dean had tied his hands and hid his grin against the rug. He’d be hard pressed not to put a hand on his cock and get the pleasure of an orgasm right now, and Dean would know that.
He was lucky, so so lucky, to have a Master who took such good care of him, who knew what he would do and what he could handle. Who kept him in line when he needed it and showered him with praise and admiration… along with the rough, animal sex that they both desired.
Rocking his hips back and forth he tried to imagine the plug as Dean in his shifted form, thick and long and locked in place with Sam. Knotted and filled by Dean was the most intense, mind blowing high he’d ever experienced. Adrenalin gave way to fear and pain and then deep, deep love when Dean shifted back and held him in his arms, stilled his trembling, tended to the bruises and claw marks and took him up to bed.
Thinking about it while so full was enough to drive all other thoughts from his mind and he missed Dean’s returning footsteps.
“My my, what an eager puppy.” Dean nudged at him with one booted foot and he whined and grinned, and turned his face to find a soft smile on Dean’s lips. “I see you’re over the tantrum.”
“M’sorry,” he replied, out of his mind with lust, knowing he was a brat but unable to care.
“I expect it,” Dean said with a shrug. “Let’s get you out of these.”
Dean made quick work of freeing him from the restraints and easing him upright. He got his faced washed free of tear stains and his wrists kissed. There was a mischievous glint in Dean’s eye which Sam caught right before Dean gathered him up and carried him over to the kitchen table. Plonked into Dean’s lap fully naked, plug pressing deep as he straddled Dean’s wide thighs.
“Comfy?” Dean asked as he nuzzled his neck.
“No… yes? I don’t know.”
“Well, it suits you, and you’ll get used to it.” Dean leaned around him and pulled two plates towards them. “Eat, you’re going to need your strength for what I’ll do to you later.”
Sam gasped and slammed his hands onto the tabletop as Dean nibbled up his ear and tugged at the collar to mouth at his neck. It was going to be a very, very long ten days. The full moon couldn’t come fast enough.