Title: That's MR. Asshole To You!!!
Author: oldbatj
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warnings: incest, Abuse, Kinks, Rape/Non-con, Violence, knife play, pwp
Summary: AU. After a lucky night shooting pool, Dean is attacked...


Striding confidently out of the small edge-of-town bar, just down the road from the Winchesters' current motel, a delightfully intoxicated Dean hummed a little Metallica contentedly to himself. It had been a good, prosperous night. A damned, fine night!

Between this tavern and the one he'd hit between 6 and 9 pm he'd been able to garner a healthy $470! Happily for the Winchester wallets, pool playing wasn't too high in the local bar patrons' skill set. Sammy had bowed out of the evening, saying he was too tired and instead, wanted to do some research on his laptop. He couldn't wait to tell Sammy what he'd missed.

As he strutted like a happy little bantam rooster towards the big, gleaming Impala, he gasped as a strong arm suddenly snaked tightly across his throat and a large body was pressed hard against his back. Instantly a large-bladed knife flashed before his eyes! Its shiny, razor-sharp edge was pressed against his neck and slowly the tip traced along the underside of his rugged jaw. He felt a trickle of his own warm blood slide lazily down his neck and then soak into his t-shirt collar.

"Don't fucking move or I'll slit your throat!" came a harsh whisper, as warm breath brushed across his oozing blood.

Feeling quite inebriated, Dean knew he was no match for this guy, not in his current condition anyway. He decided to just play along with this stick-up artist. He could always make more money tomorrow, no point to getting hurt.

"Think you're some big pool hustler, huh, boy? Taking away everybody's hard-earned cash. Guess you're pretty fucking proud of yourself!" the voice hard-edged and mean-sounding, making him very uncomfortable.

"Hey, just take the money," Dean urged, easing his hand toward his pocket.

Suddenly the tip of the knife pushed hard against his right cheek and he felt a new wound open, the blood seeping faster this time. "I said don't move, you moron! You value this 'pretty boy' face of yours, you better do whatever I tell you, and do it fast!"

Being quite attached to his face and it to him, Dean decided to be more cooperative.

"Let's take a little walk." With the point of the knife digging into his jaw once more and being roughly nudged from behind by a body mass larger than his own, Dean stepped slowly forward. There was a little, tree-framed public park across the quiet, deserted highway and Dean and his hulking shadow were soon in it. They finally stopped, just short of a cluster of picnic tables about 90 feet from the road.

The hot breath again touched the side of his face as the voice hissed, "Now, I'll take that money!"

Reaching once more towards his money, Dean again felt the sharp bite of the steel, this time drawing blood from a punctured earlobe. He stopped all movement, as the edge of the blade was pressed hard across his throat just below his Adam's apple, making even swallowing a dangerous move.

"Didn't I say I would take it?! Don't you fucking flinch...!"

A hand plunged into his pockets, one after another, taking all he possessed. Suddenly, the hand rested on his groin, fumbling with his jeans' zipper forcing it downward, then strong, long fingers were pushed inside the opening. Dean couldn't help the sharp intake of breath.

"Hmmm, no money here, just the family jewels," followed by an evil chuckle.

The cool surface of the groping fingers met with the very warm flesh of Dean's now semi-erect cock. Funny, he thought, how his body reacted to the smell of blood and added adrenaline. His breathing sped up as the fingers continued to toy with his penis and with a final hard squeeze, the hand was withdrawn very slowly.

A grunt behind him accompanied a vicious boot kick to the backs of his knees as Dean was knocked towards the ground. The hunter landed with a thud on his shins and knees. He struggled to stay upright, wishing for a moment he'd had less to drink.

"Don't you dare look at me! Fucking little pool hustler. Maybe I can teach you a new kind of hustling, boy! New kind of cue stick in this lesson, though."

They were in a heavily shadowed area, well away from the road. Dean knew full well there'd be no one to see them, no escape. This was not exactly how he'd pictured his evening wrapping up.

The knife tip loomed out of the darkness in the hand of his attacker. Towering above Dean in the hazy park lighting, holding the knife too close for comfort, the man ordered, "Open your mouth, asshole."

Failing to respond caused yet another trickle of blood to flow from where the tip was roughly pushed against Dean's left cheek. Feeling motivated to obey at that point, Dean was surprised when an open pint of whiskey was shoved against his lips.

"Bit of pain-killer first, maybe?" the voice whispered, hoarsely. Choking down several gulps, Dean again got his directive. "Good boy, now open wide... real wide... I have a rather large treat for you."

Dean immediately had a long, thick, fully erect penis forced into his open mouth, feeling the hot, suffocating, velvety mass of it as it was pushed deep into his throat. Fighting the urge to choke and gag, he made himself concentrate on drawing in air through his flared nostrils.

"Mmmmm... Now that's what I like! Deep-throat it! More! More! A very apt pupil! I like fast learners." The man emitted a chorus of pleasured grunts and moans as Dean continued to suck, despite his aching jaws. He felt the guy's hips rocking slowly, back and forth with a deliberate, sensuous rhythm. Dean forced his lips over his teeth and continued to do as he was told, his own traitorous dick straining against the fabric of his jeans. A firm hand against the back of his head compelled him to take in as much of the huge cock as humanly possible.

Suddenly, the saliva-slicked penis was torn from his mouth, as a pair of large hands jerked him to his feet and a hard shove propelled Dean towards a nearby picnic table. A terse order had his heart skipping erratically, "Move it, asshole! Kneel on that bench. Now!"

As Dean complied, the big hands roughly tore at his jeans and boxers exposing his ass and thighs to the night air. Kneeling as told, his heart thudded in his chest, his breath coming out in panting gasps. He felt a strong hand against his back forcing his chest and face against the rough surface of the table. His keen sense of smell told him his molester had located the K-Y packets in his pockets earlier. K-Y jelly and Dean had become well acquainted over the years.

"We all know WHAT an asshole you can be... Now, let's see how BIG an asshole you can be!" With that comment, not one, but two long fingers were thrust with great force through his tiny, dusky orifice and a pained cry escaped through his clenched teeth. Soon a third finger was added and he was being enthusiastically finger-fucked, as the hand pumped mercilessly. The hunter's grunts and groans filled the still night air. A few more minutes of high-powered plunges and the fingers were withdrawn quite suddenly.

Dean's loud groan almost sounded like disappointment. Waiting for what was next on the agenda, the older hunter listened intently, silently.

Restlessly loosing a deep, frustrated sigh, he sunk down onto the tabletop. Wiggling his butt in childish annoyance, Dean huffed impatiently, "I'm waiting here! It's a bit chilly without some physical activity to keep me warm you know! How come you didn't tell me you planned a little fantasy surprise for me tonight, Sammy? I would have dressed nicer just for you." He chuckled as his little brother broke into a malevolent laugh. "And by the way, that's MISTER Asshole to you, buddy boy."

Sam released a deep resonant laugh as he maneuvered into position behind Dean. As he forced the head and first few inches of his hugely swollen cock into his brother's tight slick channel, he heard a delighted moan, followed by, "And you are so going to launder this shirt and get out all these bloodstains!"