Title: Sacrifice
Author: Dhvana
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Demoness, Sam/Dean
Summary: Sam's performance as bait creates an unexpected reaction in Dean.
A/N: Short and sparse, this story was wholly inspired by the UK promo generously uploaded by mrscutedean as well as her successive vids tweaking the promo, and the bit of slashy heaven by wistful_fever also tweaking the promo. If you haven't seen them, watch them all as soon as you can. They tease with all the sex we've been longing for (and hope to see).


Dean leaned against the wall, the wood gray and dingy with age, the paint mostly scorched away by some distant fire. He almost thought he could still smell a lingering hint of flames, but the scent could have been coming from her.

The unlit cigarette twitched anxiously between his fingers.

He didn't smoke, not anymore, but he always kept a pack around for bribery, for striking up conversations, for those moments when he really needed one.

This was one of those moments.

He closed his eyes but it did nothing to banish from his mind the scene playing out before him. Burned into his vision with crystal clarity was the image of his brother writhing on the faded and cracked leather sofa, Sam's entire body responding to the woman as she caressed him, molested him, controlled him. The spell she'd cast was as strong as theirs, and Sam was oblivious to his figure lurking in the shadows, his brotehr's attention focused solely on the woman teasing him with pleasure.

Opening his eyes again, Dean watched his baby brother arching into her touch, moaning as her fingers traveled across his face, through his hair, over his stomach. Sam's lips reached for her cold, dead skin, but her mouth stayed forever beyond his grasp. The siren, the demon, whatever she was, she had no interest in tender kisses. She was delving into the wellspring of his soul and drawing out every response his hungry body could provide. She didn't feed on the sweetness of love, but on the heat of passion, of lust, of desire.

It had been a risk, the decision to sacrifice one of themselves in order to catch this creature. The only reason Sam was there on the sofa now was because Dean had bet scissors when his brother had put out rock. So much for trying to anticipate his sense of loyalty towards academia--Sam hadn't chosen the hard place after all, and Dean was forced to watch from the sidelines while Sam lured in the temptress.

He tried to remain cold, professional, detached as the two of them acted out their seduction, waiting for the moment when he should jump in and save the day. He failed. The cigarette clutched in his fingers was the first sign of his weakness. The second was the pounding of his heart, the third the growing pressure between his legs. The final sign of his downfall was how long it was taking him to raise the barrel of the shotgun and blast the woman back into hell. His arms couldn't find the strength to lift it.

He liked what he saw.

His body responded to every whimper, every moan that escaped his brother's lips. He yearned to feel heat of Sam's skin stretched out across him, to feel the weight of Sam pressed against his hips. His jaw clenched with the effort not to plead for her to lower her hand, just a little more, so he could watch his brother's reaction when fingers touched the hardened length outlined against his jeans. He wanted to see Sam touched there. He wanted to do the touching.

As she finally allowed her cool lips to graze the skin of Sam's neck, her tongue flickering across his skin to taste him, the cigarette fell to the floor.

The moment had come. It was time to end this.

Slowly, he pushed himself away from the wall, each movement heavy with reluctance. He didn't want to see Sam stop but he knew he had to stop it. He walked with measured footsteps towards the sofa and the creature lifted her head, understanding for the first time that she and her victim weren't alone. Dead eyes met his and seeing her destruction there, the lifeless orbs promised him the same pleasure she was giving his brother. Her smile offered him his brother.

He pulled the trigger.

The woman broke into a thousand silver shards, the pieces vanishing when they hit the floor, but the results of her actions remained. One look at Sam's lust-hazy face and he was leaning over the back of the sofa, his fingers tangling in the longish strands as he arched his brother's lips towards his.

His mouth plundered Sam's, his tongue delving into that hot wet, cavern, thrusting in and out, teasing and tasting and tickling the roof of his brother's mouth until the siren had been forgotten and it was his touch making Sam moan. The deep-chested pleas of pleasure echoed inside his skull and he kissed him even harder, never wanting those sounds to end.

Still too spellbound to protest or too far gone to care, his brother reached for him, pulling him over the back of the sofa. The shotgun rattled forgotten to the floor as Dean clambered on top of the long, lean body ready for him. Their mouths devoured each other while their legs overlapped and intertwined in the desperate search for greater friction, release so blissfully close while intimacy remained so painfully far away.

Dominating Sam as she had, he traced tongue and lips over Sam's jawline, across the length of his throat. His brother writhed beneath him and he shoved his hand between them, quickly removing the restrictions that kept skin from skin. Sam's erection filled his fingers and he held it against his own as he began to move. His strokes were quick, deliberate, designed solely for inducing pleasure and nothing more.

And yet, in spite of the almost businesslike movements of his hand, watching Sam's climax nearly cost him his heart. His brother's mouth opened with a silent cry as the wet heat of Sam's release coated his skin. All barriers fell from that youthful face, a new one collapsing with each pulse until his brother's soul lay bare before him. It was a thing of fragile beauty, and he longed to possess it, to capture it and find a way to keep it safe, but he couldn't hold it. Sam's eyes met his and he came at the depth of unconditional love he found there, his body thrusting into Sam's until he was empty inside.

He took a moment to gather his breath then pushed off of his brother, readjusting his clothes as he moved away from the sofa on still-shaking legs. He picked up the pieces of the night's hunt while Sam slowly sat upright, bewilderment, horror, and disbelief all taking their turns across his face as his barriers were rebuilt. He returned their gear to their bags, then stood against the wall and watched, waiting for one reaction to settle in Sam's eyes. None of them ever did and, eventually, he grew tired of waiting.

He walked past Sam towards the door, dropping one of the bags in his brother's lap, who rightfully took this as a cue to follow. Still, Sam's steps were hesitant and he reached out, bringing them to a halt.

"It was her, right? It was the spell?"

He didn't answer with words but grabbed his brother, pulling him into a relentless kiss. Only when he ran out of breath did he break away and move past his brother into the darkness. He'd said everything he was going to say. The rest was up to Sam.