
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
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