“That’s more like it,” Bald Guy hollers, when Dean doesn’t move from the spot he’s frozen on. “Get ready everyone, for take one of Fuckday the 13th.”
“You liked it last time,” Sam murmurs in his ear, suddenly pressed up along Dean’s back.
“I’m a good actor,” Dean grits out, but if he presses his ass back just a bit against Sam’s groin, who’s going to tell?
“Setup guys!” Bald Guy yells, and damn that fucker is going to burst one of his vocal cords one day. “Jensen, you chase after Jared. Wave the stick around, look scary.”
The crew stops to laugh at that and Dean snarls at them.
“Jared, you run away, act scared and shit, whatever. And then when Jensen reaches you, you pick him up, throw him over that fake tree stump, and fuck him in the ass. Capisce?”
Sam grins like he just got a Gold Star in third grade. If Winchesters did shit like get Gold Stars. Or go to third grade.
Dean hits him with the stick for good measure.
“Run, bitch, run!” Fake-Ruby cackles at him from the sidelines, and she seems to be groping someone that looks suspiciously like Other Ruby. Great, that’s all Dean needs—two fake-Rubies. Like his asshole doesn’t have enough problems right now.
Twenty minutes later finds Dean panting into the hockey mask as his knitwear-clad brother fucks his baseball bat of a dick into his ass.
Dean totally doesn’t enjoy it.
Much.
Sam does a little twisty thing with his hips, and where did the kid learn that?
no subject
_________________
“That’s more like it,” Bald Guy hollers, when Dean doesn’t move from the spot he’s frozen on. “Get ready everyone, for take one of Fuckday the 13th.”
“You liked it last time,” Sam murmurs in his ear, suddenly pressed up along Dean’s back.
“I’m a good actor,” Dean grits out, but if he presses his ass back just a bit against Sam’s groin, who’s going to tell?
“Setup guys!” Bald Guy yells, and damn that fucker is going to burst one of his vocal cords one day. “Jensen, you chase after Jared. Wave the stick around, look scary.”
The crew stops to laugh at that and Dean snarls at them.
“Jared, you run away, act scared and shit, whatever. And then when Jensen reaches you, you pick him up, throw him over that fake tree stump, and fuck him in the ass. Capisce?”
Sam grins like he just got a Gold Star in third grade. If Winchesters did shit like get Gold Stars. Or go to third grade.
Dean hits him with the stick for good measure.
“Run, bitch, run!” Fake-Ruby cackles at him from the sidelines, and she seems to be groping someone that looks suspiciously like Other Ruby. Great, that’s all Dean needs—two fake-Rubies. Like his asshole doesn’t have enough problems right now.
Twenty minutes later finds Dean panting into the hockey mask as his knitwear-clad brother fucks his baseball bat of a dick into his ass.
Dean totally doesn’t enjoy it.
Much.
Sam does a little twisty thing with his hips, and where did the kid learn that?
At least Dad doesn’t show up this time.
“Bob, how are my boys?”
Sonovabitch.