Work Text:
Stiles woke up to darkness and the (unfortunately) familiar feeling of being restrained. He could move his legs, but he felt weak and sluggish enough that it didn’t seem to be doing him any good. His wrists were tied together above his head to something, just short of cutting off his circulation. He blinked his eyes a couple of times and felt his eyelashes brush against something. He must have been blindfolded.
He held back his initial urge to panic and instead tried to catalogue his surroundings as best he could without being able to see. He was lying down on his back on something soft and comfortable, probably a bed, and he was definitely naked. Not really a great sign.
The room was comfortably warm and the only sounds he could hear were a quiet humming, maybe a heater, and birds somewhere outside. No cars, voices, sirens, or anything that might hint at a city or even suburb. It seemed pretty likely that wherever he was, it was out of the way and isolated. Yeah, really not a good fucking sign.
“Finally awake there, sleepyhead?”
That voice was so familiar. Stiles’s stomach dropped. He should have realized right away. There was one person that should have come to mind immediately when Stiles was pondering who might want to knock him out and tie him to a bed, naked as the day he was born.
Maybe pissing off Sam Winchester wasn’t such a great idea after all. Paralyzing the guy and stealing the Colt from him was certainly reason enough to expect some heavy retaliation. Truth was, Stiles had actually been looking forward to it, but after several months going by with not a sign of Sam, he’d been lulled into a false sense of security.
There was a pretty good chance that had been Sam’s plan all along. Stiles was definitely starting to regret underestimating the man. He felt the bed sink down next to him as Sam sat down.
“Hey buddy. I see you finally decided to pay me a visit.” Stiles said, surprised at how slurred his voice sounded. Sam had definitely drugged him with something, but Stiles didn’t really have room to bitch considering the little trick he’d pulled last time they met.
“Well I got bored of just watching. It wasn’t exactly a challenge to find you, ya know? I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while now.” Sam said with a dark chuckle.
Fuck Stiles had honestly thought he was doing a pretty good job of disappearing. Then again, he was working under the assumption that Sam was just some run of the mill hunter or some impostor who’d gotten his hands on a weapon that was way out of his league. He’d hardly believed that he was actually the Sam Winchester. He was far less doubtful now that he was tied up and completely at Sam’s mercy.
“Aw, cheer up. I thought you wanted me to find you. You said you’d be mine if I caught you, remember?” Sam said running something cold and sharp down Stiles’s stomach. Stiles tried not to flinch.
Yeah, he’d definitely made some crazy promises before he’d left Sam that day, but again, part of him had never really expected Sam to find him. He needed to stop letting his mouth write checks that his ass couldn’t cash. Especially when it might actually be his ass that had to cash said checks.
“I guess you got me there. I take it you found the Colt?” Stiles asked, trying to act slightly disinterested.
“Oh don’t worry. It’s somewhere safe. I don’t make the same mistakes twice.” Sam said and even blindfolded Stiles knew there was a smirk on his face.
“You know, I get the bondage thing, but what’s with the blindfold? It’s not like you need to hide your identity or something.” Stiles complained.
“I know. I just like keeping you guessing. For instance, can you guess what this is?” Sam said and immediately Stiles felt a piece of cold flat metal against his hip. Judging by the size and the earlier sensation of something sharp against his skin, he was going to go out on a limb and say it was a knife.
“I don’t know, a banana? Deck of cards? Bottle of champagne?” Stiles said, still unable to quit mouthing off. It was a problem he’d been dealing with for years and it certainly wasn’t going to disappear now just because his safety and non-existent virtue were at risk.
“Here, let me give you another clue.” Sam said and suddenly Stiles felt a sharp point in his hip, a tiny cut that felt all the more intense for his being blindfolded and bound. Stiles felt a rush of both fear and arousal that made him shiver and twitch. It was no surprise to him anymore to find he was turned on by danger. There was a sick thrill in not knowing where Sam was going to draw the line. It was fucked up, but what part of Stiles’s life wasn’t?
“So let’s try that again. What do you think I’m holding?” Sam said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it didn’t need to be. It was all Stiles had to focus on other than the slight fleeting contact he’d felt so far.
“A knife.” Stiles answered, officially shaken enough that his sass reflex was significantly dulled.
“Good boy. See, I noticed that you seem to like playing with weapons and since you’re mine now, I thought it might be a good idea to mark you as such.”
“What? Mark me?” Stiles choked out.
“Mmhm. Don’t worry, it’ll just be a little something to remind you of me. Now don’t be afraid to get loud for me, okay baby?” Sam said, the sickeningly sweet tone he’d put on just served to amp up Stiles’s adrenaline even more. That tone didn’t bode well for him.
Stiles felt another cut near that same spot on his hip, but at a different angle. It couldn’t have been much bigger than the last one, but it felt white hot and ice cold at the same time and Stiles couldn’t help gasping. He wondered if he was bleeding much, but the feeling of a being patted with something, a cloth maybe, told him he must have been bleeding enough for it to get in the way of Sam’s work.
“Seven more to go. You’re already enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Sam asked with a chuckle. Seven? Sam reached out and slid a finger lightly down the length of Stiles’s cock, but it felt strangely smooth and… Oh. Sam was wearing latex gloves.
Stiles realized that it was probably more to protect Sam than Stiles, but it was nice to know all the same. It looked like Sam was going to be a lot more careful when it came to Stiles’s body fluids this time. Stiles would tell him that his blood was currently poison free, but Sam wouldn’t believe him anyway so there wasn’t really much of a point.
Sam was silent and still for a long moment so by the time he went to make the next cut, it startled Stiles and he jerked slightly. He felt a sudden smack of something long and thin against his thigh and he cried out.
“Be still. I can’t have you moving and messing up my work.” Sam ordered. So that was the game. He would have to try and remain still while Sam did the cuts or be punished. Having no way of knowing when the next cut would come would make that very difficult. It basically meant he’d have to remain constantly tense, anticipating the next cut.
Being bound and blindfolded was also making it very hard to ignore every little sensation. The part of his hip where Sam was marking him felt hot and tender, there was a smell of something antiseptic on the cloth Sam was wiping the blood away with and the coolness of it was the only thing that temporarily soothed his skin. The place on his thigh where Sam had struck him (with a rod? Maybe a cane or a riding crop?) stung like a bitch, that same familiar heat flushing the area. He knew there was probably going to be a bright red welt there.
Stiles also couldn’t ignore the aching hardness in his cock. Each little jolt of pain made his cock twitch and jump and leak especially when Sam took a moment to touch him there, just a single finger tracing the vein down the underside of his cock. His touch was too light to be satisfying, just enough to torment him.
“Fuck!” Stiles cursed, he was starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the warring sensations of pleasure and pain and he had a feeling Sam was nowhere near done yet.
Sam did the next cut while Stiles was still distracted by the finger tracing up and down his cock. His wrists jolted against the binds. He tried to abort the movement as soon as he realized he was doing it, but it was already too late. This time Sam gave him two quick strikes across his thighs, one on each. Stiles gritted his teeth and tried to remain still, but his thighs felt like they were on fire.
Sam had struck him once last time and then twice, so Stiles wondered if there would be three the next and four after that. He tried to remember how many cuts Sam had done and how many he’d said he had left to go, but he was too distracted by everything he was feeling to remember.
Stiles tried to focus on when the next cut might come, even as Sam traced a gloved finger around the sensitive head of his cock. He could feel him spreading around the precome, getting the head slick and shiny with it. He did his best to ignore it and try to pay attention to any sign that the next cut might be coming, but he could hear himself moaning like a whore, completely unable to silence himself.
The waiting was almost worse than the actual cut itself. He felt like his whole body would snap from the tension. The more he anticipated the cut, the more he focused on the tender abused skin on his hip.
This time when the knife touched his skin, Stiles was ready for it. He managed to stay completely still, even as he felt a tear sliding down his face. His whole body was trembling, but apparently Sam would allow that much movement.
“There you go, you’re doing so well. More than half way done. God, you’re getting so hard from this. I almost feel bad. Seems like a waste.” Sam said.
“What? Waste?” Stiles choked out. He immediately wished he hadn’t spoken. He had a vague idea of how completely wrecked he looked, but hearing his voice rough and almost sobbing, painted a much clearer picture. He was both thrilled and humiliated by the mental image of himself he was forming.
“Did I not tell you yet?” Sam drawled.
“Tell me?” Stiles managed to get out. He had tried to control his voice, but he was still obviously shaky.
“Yes. See, after that little stunt last time I’ve decided not to let you come this time. Instead, I’m gonna mark you up and play with you and fuck you until you’re screaming for it. Then I’m going to leave you there covered in my come and so hard it fucking aches.” Sam said and Stiles actually choked out a little sob before he could control himself. This whole experience was painted in a whole different light now that he knew he wouldn’t be getting any release.
“Speaking of which, I suppose now is as good a time as any to do this.” Sam said and Stiles felt something being put into place around the base of his cock. He realized it must have been a cock ring and he wanted so very badly to kick Sam right in his horrible attractive face, but he knew better than to try it.
The next couple of cuts felt more like being branded than cut. He managed to stay still as a statue through both of him, but the anxiety of waiting for the next cut was wearing on his nerves. Meanwhile, Sam was still tormenting Stiles with his feather light touches, this time tracing little circles around his balls. Stiles felt tears wetting the blindfold. If Sam noticed, he didn’t seem to mind.
Sam made one cut, and before Stiles could take a breath, he made the next one. The shock of having one right after the other made Stiles gasp and jerk.
“Aw, so close too. You almost made it! That was the last cut. Oh well.” Sam said and Stiles tried to breath, knowing full well what was coming next. Just as he expected, it was three strikes this time. He did one on each thigh. Stiles was breathing so heavy that he couldn’t hear any clue as to why Sam had paused before the last strike.
Shortly after, Stiles would realize that he had paused to get a different implement, something smaller and suppler, like a tiny whip. The last strike was right on his cock. Stiles screamed out and his erection flagged a bit, but Sam was right there to soothe him with gentle touches and a quick flick of his warm wet tongue. He was beginning to feel that the pleasure might have been worse than the pain.
“There, all finished.” Sam said, standing up. Stiles’s mind was going a mile a minute. Was Sam done with him now? Was he going to let him go or leave him tied up? What was going to happen next and would it be worse?
Sam came and sat back down next to him again and started rubbing something into the cuts on Stiles’s hips. Every cut tingled and burned where the stuff touched him.
“What-what the fuck is that?” Stiles yelped, well aware of how panicked he sounded. Considering he had basically poisoned Sam last time they met, he was naturally suspicious of any foreign substances Sam might be rubbing into his wounds.
“Don’t worry. I just don’t want you healing this up like you did with your vampire bites. What good is it to mark you if you can just get rid of the scars the moment I let you go?” Sam said. Stiles cursed under his breath. He hadn’t even thought as far as getting rid of Sam’s mark and now the option was taken away from him. He decided not to let it bother him. He was sure he would find a way. He just had to quiet the part of his mind that was secretly thrilled to find it might be permanent.
Yep, Stiles was solidly and assuredly fucked in the head.
As soon as Sam was done rubbing the salve into the cuts, he removed Stiles’s blindfold. Stiles tried to blink away the tears blurring his vision and let his eyes adjust to the light. He looked over to where Sam was sitting on the bed, fully clothed. He had almost forgotten that sharp cold glint in his eyes, but there it was again, along with that same empty smile. He had also forgotten how insanely hot Sam was. If Stiles weren’t tied up, he might be tempted to climb him a like a fucking spider monkey.
It was completely infuriating to see Sam sitting there fully dressed and looking completely unruffled other than the erection tenting his pants. He figured that was at least a start, but he wanted Sam to be as desperate and wrecked as he was.
Upon further inspection of his surrounding, Stiles learned that they were in some dusty old cabin somewhere out in the woods. He could see the implements Sam had been using on him laid out on the nightstand. There was also a tube of KY jelly and some condoms. Stiles had to admit he felt a little triumphant at seeing evidence of Sam’s paranoia when it came to his bodily fluids.
Stiles put off looking at his body last. His skin was flushed splotchy pink all the way down. He could move his weak and shaky legs enough to push his hips up a little and see the bright red patch of flesh there, raised and swollen and slick with some kind of cloudy looking salve. He could barely tell what the actual markings were.
Stiles squinted and let his eyes focus and after a moment realized it was ‘SW’ in simple squared off letters. He almost wanted to laugh. Sam had definitely left his mark. It reminded Stiles of being bored in school and scratching his initials into his desk. Real mature, Sam.
Stiles’s thighs were crisscrossed with bright red welts, much as he expected. The worst part was definitely his cock. It was an angry shade of red and so swollen and hard that just looking at it seemed to make it ache more.
Sam crawled up on the bed and spread Stiles’s legs to slide up between them. He had pulled his cock out of his jeans, but otherwise remained dressed. Stiles managed to get some satisfaction out of seeing how hard Sam was, but it turned to bitterness when he remembered Sam would most likely be getting off and he wouldn’t.
“What do you think? Don’t you look pretty all marked up like this?” Sam asked him. When Stiles didn’t answer he slapped Stiles’s thigh right over the sore welts he’d made earlier.
“Yes! Yes!” Stiles cried out. Sam grinned and lifted up Stiles’s knees so that his feet were planted flat against the bed and tilted his hips up until he was spread wide and exposed. He put on the condom and slicked his cock up before using one finger to do the same to Stiles’s canal. Apparently that was the full extent of the preparation Stiles was going to get.
“Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyouffuuuuuucckk.” Stiles rasped out as Sam slid his thick cock into Stiles’s too tight hole. Sam went slow, but didn’t hesitate. Stiles tried to breathe and relax as he let his body adjust to the burning ache of Sam stretching him out too much too soon.
Sam pulled out until all that was left inside was the tip of his penis before slamming back in again. Stiles cried out and thrust his hips up toward Sam.
“There you go, knew you could take it. You’re just as fucking greedy for my cock as I remembered.” Sam said.
“You need to let me come!” Stiles demanded. He knew logically that the middle school myth of dying from blue balls wasn’t true, but he was beginning to second guess it in his current, far from logical, state.
“I don’t need to do anything. I’m gonna get off either way. How about we make a deal? You let me fuck your throat without me having to worry about teeth or fucking poison spit and I’ll let you come when I fuck your tight little ass again. Just as long as you come untouched.” Sam said. Stiles was trying to weigh his, admittedly few, options when Sam interrupted him.
“Going once…”
“Okay! Yes! Please just do it!” Stiles begged. Sam grinned and pulled out leaving Stiles empty and cold. He pulled off the condom (thankfully, because ew) and tossed it aside before moving to straddle Stiles’s chest.
Sam jerked his cock a couple of times and smeared the precome over Stiles’s lips before hooking his thumb on the bottom lip and pulling his mouth wide open. He fed his cock into Stiles’s mouth and gave a short little thrust.
“Come on, you’re going to have to cooperate a little better than that if you want to earn the right to come.” Sam said. Stiles bristled at the idea that he had to ‘earn the right’ to come, but began to suck and lick at Sam’s cock regardless.
“There you go, use that pretty little mouth of yours.” Sam said. He began thrusting into Stiles’s mouth as the younger hunter tried desperately to keep up suction. The head of his cock pressed up against the back of the boy’s throat, making his breath catch each time, but not quite going far enough to make him gag. Stiles was temporarily grateful until he found out Sam was apparently waiting for Stiles’s jaw to get tired before he really got going.
When Stiles’s jaw ached and the suction lagged, Sam started thrusting deeper until Stiles gagged and choked with every push. His chin was dripping with saliva and precome and tears blurred his vision, but despite his discomfort Stiles was still trying to swirl his tongue around Sam and taste as much of him as he could.
“That’s right, choke on it for me. So fucking good. Just another hole for me to fuck, right?” Sam said. Stiles hoped that was a rhetorical question because he was too busy trying to drag in breath through his nose to answer.
Sam finally pulled out and Stiles could feel the sore ache in his jaw and throat. He was probably going to be talking like a fucking smoker for days.
Sam wasted no time in flipping Stiles over. The rope twisted a little where his hands were tied to the headboard, but luckily didn’t tighten on his wrists. Sam rolled on another condom and pressed his cock up against Stiles’s hole. Like before, he didn’t waste much time with prepping. He did just enough to get Stiles and himself well lubed up and then slid in with a long deep thrust.
“Come on, you said I could-oh god!- you said I could come.” Stiles pleaded between thrusts when he realized the cock ring was still in place. His freshly marked hip throbbed with each thrust, but he could care less. He needed that fucking cock ring off and he needed it off right then.
“I didn’t forget. I just want to hear you beg me for it some more.” Sam growled into his ear.
“Fuck you! Goddamn it. You know I need it. Please just let me come. Let me come on your big fucking evil bastard cock, ok? Christ, just let me come.” Stiles cursed and pleaded. He was pretty sure he was going to have a goddamn brain aneurism if Sam didn’t release him soon. Every thrust was mercilessly hard and so perfectly deep. Sam’s cock curved downward and hit his prostate so damn easily in that position. It was just unfair.
“Come on you can do better than that. Tell me exactly what you want. Wanna hear you cry for it.” Sam said and Stiles felt his traitorous cock throb impotently at Sam’s voice.
“I want to come. I want you to fuck me until I shoot all over this fucking bed. I want it so bad, please just- please!” Stiles begged. His pride and dignity had officially taken a hike by then. Blessedly, Sam reached around to release Stiles’s cock from the ring and he almost cried in relief.
“Come on, time to come for me. I wanna feel it. “Sam said, all but grunting into Stiles’s ear. It didn’t take but one good thrust against his prostate for Stiles to erupt like a damn volcano. He let out a completely inhuman noise and blacked out for a moment until he realized he had collapsed down onto his own wet spot.
Sam pulled out and yanked off the condom, tossing it to the floor alongside the other one. He knee walked over to where Stiles had fallen against the bed and tilted his head up.
“Open up for me.” Sam demanded, brushing his thumb against Stiles’s lower lip. Stiles was too fucked out and exhausted to argue or resist. Sam jacked himself a couple time before his hips jerked and he was shooting hot come into Stiles’s waiting mouth, squeezing out every last drop onto his tongue. Stiles could feel a few stray drops dripping down his chin and cheek.
“Swallow.” He said. Stiles swallowed him down as directed, realizing that he was completely fucking stupid to do so considering their history. Luckily there didn’t seem to be any strange after-effects. He had been somewhat afraid that Sam had learned a couple of his tricks, but he seemed to be safe.
Sam climbed off the bed and wiped himself off on what appeared to be- nope definitely was- Stiles’s shirt. He zipped up his pants and started gathering up his stuff.
“Um, are you gonna untie me?” Stiles asked. Sam just chuckled and started tying up his boots.
“Seriously dude! Come on, I don’t need this Gerald’s Game shit, okay? I mean, yeah, I left you paralyzed last time, but that wore off!” Stiles complained. Sam ignored him and gathered up the rest of his stuff before heading out the door. Stiles started yelling every curse in the book, demanding Sam get back in there and let him the fuck go.
When Sam finally did come back, Stiles could have hugged him. Unfortunately he had forgotten that Sam was a complete and utter prick. Sam took the same small knife he’d used to make his mark on Stiles’s hip and pressed it into one of his bound hands.
“There you go, a little souvenir. I wouldn’t recommend dropping that. I don’t expect anyone to be up here for a good long while.” Sam said and with that, he left. Stiles could hear the sound of his car fading off in the distance as he tried to saw at the ropes around his wrists.
By the time Stiles finally freed himself, he was beyond exhausted. He’d long since crashed from the adrenaline and every muscle in his body felt sore, not to mention the welts on his thighs and the stinging burn of the cuts on his hip.
Stiles wanted to lie back down on the sticky sheets and sleep for days, but he had no idea where he was and couldn’t be sure Sam was telling the truth when he said no one would be by for a while. Instead he stayed long enough to properly clean the cuts on his hip and take a good long shower.
Stiles stole a new not-crusted-in-come shirt from one of the dressers and put on the rest of his clothes. Thankfully, Sam had left Stiles’s keys, wallet, and cellphone in his pockets. He figured the rest of his stuff was still back at his jeep.
Fuck. His jeep wasn’t there.
So Stiles ended up hitch hiking his way back about two counties over to where his jeep had been left in a motel parking lot. He found his bag safely inside, but every last potion and spell ingredient, along with a few fairly valuable books, had been taken.
Sam spent the next week cursing the name Winchester as he tried to resupply. He cursed it a little extra when he found himself lacking something rare or particularly expensive. He cursed the man’s entire freaking bloodline every time he moved or twisted and felt a brilliant sting of pain from the slowly healing marks on his hip.
If he felt a strange twinge of pride when he looked at that same mark, well that was no one’s damn business but his own. Didn’t make Sam Winchester any less of a soulless asshole.