Title: I Close My Eyes and Dream That I’m Awake
Author:![]()
thenyxie
Recipient:![]()
samescenes
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Jess
Summary: In Hell, even mercy is a punishment.
Author's Notes: Dark and kinda creepy. Threesome.
She can see as much as sense the demons moving all around her, whispering, slithering against each other, eager and excited. New boy they hiss, our boy. There is a name drawn out in a growl underneath those voices, thick and sinuous, satisfied and coveting.
Winchester.
She pushes through the throng of them, mass of black, oily bodies. She is used to the way they feel; it doesn’t bother her anymore. She stopped screaming a long time ago.
She can see him now, the meat hooks that hold him like the claws of a too-intimate lover. Ours, the hooks chant, blending into the bubble of dark voices. The demons have already begun touching him, bodies curling and stretching all around him, rubbing against him like cats. They are playing with him; clothes peeled away, cruel caresses over bare, bloodied skin, tonguing at wounds and winding around his cock.
She pushes to the front and waves her hands, tiny and tan, pink fingertips swirling through smoke. The demons twist and clench, tighten warningly against her.
OURS.
“You don’t want him,” she says, voice smooth and too-human among the din. “You know who he belongs to. Do you want him coming for you when he gets here?”
The demons shift uneasily, hiss of a sibilant name she knows all too well.
“I belong to him, too. So if you’re thinking about stopping me, think again.”
One of the demons surges, spins around her and closes in like a fist. He doesn’t scare us, little girl.
“Then you’d better get a fucking clue. Or maybe an army.” She wraps her fingers around the meat hook and pulls it free. The man screams, crimson splash hot against her skin.
She reaches for his hand, and his body is warm, pulse pounding. He still believes he’s alive. “It’s not real,” she says, fingers working him free one hook at a time. The demons melt away, background noise of angry, uncertain murmurs as they dissipate.
He’s stopped screaming by the time she frees him, wounds oozing weakly, shapes of stigmata punched into flesh.
*
When he opens his eyes, the pain is gone.
“Jess?” His throat feels full of broken glass. “No. You shouldn’t be here. Why are you here?”
“Burn once in Hellfire, burn forever in Hellfire.” Her mouth is warm, breath a secretive whisper against his lips as she kisses him. He twists his head away, eyes frantically taking in his surroundings, trying to get his bearings.
He recognizes this place. Sam’s college apartment. The room is steeped in the scent of Sam, and Dean wonders if it’s Hell itself that creates this place or Jess’s memories alone.
This is so fucked up.
She’s lying naked next to him, smooth tanned skin, ripe curves, hair like silken gold fanning out over the pillow.
“Jess. Why are you doing this? Sam…”
Her hand wraps around his cock, glides up the length, slow tugs and pulls.
“No.”
“Shh… Dean, it’s okay.” Jess kisses him, long flash of pink tongue, lapping, dipping inside his mouth. She sits up on the bed, throws one leg across his body. Her cunt is wet, burning hot, rubbing against his dick. It’s pure instinct that gets him hard.
“No…” He grabs her forearms, looks her in the eye. “I know I’m supposed to suffer. But not like this.”
“Take this,” she says, smoothing a hand through his hair, body sinking down on his cock, “and be glad. Because what they would do to you…. You could never come back from.”
Jess thinks she’s being merciful. This is just as much a punishment as anything else. Maybe worse.
He closes his eyes, bites against his lower lip and tries not to feel the way she slides up and down his cock, slick cunt squeezing him, her hands pressed to his chest, tips of her nails digging in. The tiny, breathy noises she makes as she rides him, and fuck, it’s wrong, so wrong. He can’t do this, just fucking can’t—
When he opens his eyes, they’re on the ceiling, bed she used to sleep in with Sam spread out below them, sheets rippling like a deep blue ocean. Jess is on fire, hips still grinding against him. Flames lick her skin in slow motion, flesh blackening, halo of fire around her body, rolling out in waves and her hair dances, writhing against the air on ripples of heat. He sucks in a scalding breath, fingers tightening in her crumbling arms. There's smoke in his lungs, thick gray-black clouds that taste like ashes. Taste like her.
He comes violently, her body burning against him. Fire spreads like liquid, orange-white bloom over his body, catching on the tiny hairs of his arms. He can smell his own skin burning as he comes, but he doesn’t scream. He deserves worse.
*
When his eyes flutter open, he’s lying on the bed again, and he has no sense of time having passed.
Jess sits at the vanity, brush working through her long golden hair again and again until it gleams like chrome. “Sam will thank me, when he comes for you.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, got my doubts about that.” Dean throws an arm over his forehead. “But he’ll save you, too.”
Jess looks at him in the mirror, those blue eyes empty and glassy as a doll’s. Dean feels a shudder work its way down his spine.
“There’s nothing left to save,” she says.
*
Time passes strangely in Hell, and sometimes Dean can’t tell if he’s been here for a moment, or eternity. There’s no solid ground. All he has is this room, Jess, and the bed. At least here, he knows what to expect.
And God help him, he’s starting to want it.
He runs his hand down between her legs, fingertip circling the swell of her clit. Her hips buck against him, and he presses a hand to her belly, slides his finger inside her wet cunt and holds her there while he pushes against spot inside her that makes her shove harder against him. He leans in with his weight, keeps holding her while he shoves another finger in, works that spot and thumbs lazily against her clit until she comes, shivering around him and shaking apart.
She’s spent, completely lax against the bed when he moves his body down the bed, pulls his fingers free and wipes them against the sheets. He settles between her thighs and pushes them apart, tongue swirling around her clit, ripe scent of her clinging to his chin in wet droplets as he pushes his face into the softness of her, sucks the tiny nub of flesh between his teeth. She twists, crying out, and he suckles harder, tongue flicking under the hood. Her fingers sink into his hair, gripping like talons, pulling, hips shoving into his chin, bruising with impact. He growls, spreads his fingers over her thighs, thumbs hooked behind her knees, opens her and holds her. Lips sealed around thin, pink skin, he sucks her mercilessly, tongue stroking her clit until she comes, almost screaming, contractions so violent he almost can’t hold her.
She’s senseless, eyes glazed, struggling to breathe as he glides up her body, shoves his cock inside her. She spreads her legs wider, pink mouth opening round and wide, hair tumbling in waves around her shoulders. Throat bare, held up like an offering, and he lets his mouth dip, slide along the curve of her, salty sweat against his tongue. She tastes real.
He rides her into the bed, fingers gripping her shoulders, holding her there while he slams his hips, cock scraping over the spot inside her.
He hopes if he holds her there hard enough the fire won’t come.
*
The next time he wakes, there’s a little girl sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Hello,” she says. She’s beautiful; cold porcelain doll with bow shaped lips painted bubblegum pink, curly hair dark hair pulled into pony tails. Her eyes flicker white when Dean sits up.
“Lilith.” Jess’s voice is a pale, frightened shadow.
“You shouldn’t have taken him, Jess. I had big plans for him.”
Jess’s hands are shaking, and she won’t look the demon in the eye. “You know Sam is coming for him.”
“Oh, yes,” Lilith nods, smiling. “And keeping Dean kind of intact will make Sam crazy to save him. Careless. So you can keep your new toy for a while longer. But when I’m done dealing with Sam… this one goes back to the hooks, and the demons have their way.”
“If Sam comes, it won’t be without a plan. There’s not gonna be anything left of you by the time we’re done,” Dean promises her.
Her feet kick against the bed. Black, patent leather shoes strapped to her feet, slow swing back and forth. “How are you, Dean? Enjoying fucking your brother’s dead girlfriend?” she asks with a smile, like she’s asking if he wants cake.
Dean grits his teeth. “Fuck you.”
Lilith twines a strand of hair around one finger and smiles up at him sunnily. “Not me. But there’s someone else you might be interested in, since you’re enjoying this so much.”
There’s a dark haired woman in the doorway, and she steps into the room, light creeping over her features.
Oh, God. God no.
“Thanks for trying to save me,” Madison says with a tight smile. She’s naked, gorgeous. There’s a crimson stain just above her heart, black hole in the center. “Nice try.”
He knows what’s going to happen. Feels another thin thread of his mind snap even as his body betrays him, starts to respond. He bites down on his tongue, tries to remember that it could be worse, so much worse than this. Thinks of demons stripping him bare, bodies nuzzling, intimate against his skin. He can imagine what they would have done to him.
Madison straddles him, slides down on his cock and he grabs her thighs, groans as she clamps down around him. Jess spreads her knees around his head and sinks down, slick cunt bumping his mouth, and he flicks his tongue out.
His brother’s dead lovers, riding his cock, his face. He should hate himself for letting this happen. But Dean’s never been good at resisting this, and they all know it. The shame he feels in his belly has nothing on the searing force of his orgasm.
Madison keeps fucking him, slides her fingers inside Jess’s body and makes Jess come, gushing all over Dean’s chin while he licks and sucks her through it. Madison comes too, squeezing and shuddering on Dean’s dick, and by the time the girls trade places, he’s hard again.
It gets easier to give in with every stroke, every glide of skin on skin. And some deep, dark part of him is enjoying it. He can feel it growing, swelling slow like a cancer, black and rotten.
He wonders how long it will be until he doesn’t care anymore.
Author:
thenyxieRecipient:
samescenesRating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Jess
Summary: In Hell, even mercy is a punishment.
Author's Notes: Dark and kinda creepy. Threesome.
She can see as much as sense the demons moving all around her, whispering, slithering against each other, eager and excited. New boy they hiss, our boy. There is a name drawn out in a growl underneath those voices, thick and sinuous, satisfied and coveting.
Winchester.
She pushes through the throng of them, mass of black, oily bodies. She is used to the way they feel; it doesn’t bother her anymore. She stopped screaming a long time ago.
She can see him now, the meat hooks that hold him like the claws of a too-intimate lover. Ours, the hooks chant, blending into the bubble of dark voices. The demons have already begun touching him, bodies curling and stretching all around him, rubbing against him like cats. They are playing with him; clothes peeled away, cruel caresses over bare, bloodied skin, tonguing at wounds and winding around his cock.
She pushes to the front and waves her hands, tiny and tan, pink fingertips swirling through smoke. The demons twist and clench, tighten warningly against her.
OURS.
“You don’t want him,” she says, voice smooth and too-human among the din. “You know who he belongs to. Do you want him coming for you when he gets here?”
The demons shift uneasily, hiss of a sibilant name she knows all too well.
“I belong to him, too. So if you’re thinking about stopping me, think again.”
One of the demons surges, spins around her and closes in like a fist. He doesn’t scare us, little girl.
“Then you’d better get a fucking clue. Or maybe an army.” She wraps her fingers around the meat hook and pulls it free. The man screams, crimson splash hot against her skin.
She reaches for his hand, and his body is warm, pulse pounding. He still believes he’s alive. “It’s not real,” she says, fingers working him free one hook at a time. The demons melt away, background noise of angry, uncertain murmurs as they dissipate.
He’s stopped screaming by the time she frees him, wounds oozing weakly, shapes of stigmata punched into flesh.
*
When he opens his eyes, the pain is gone.
“Jess?” His throat feels full of broken glass. “No. You shouldn’t be here. Why are you here?”
“Burn once in Hellfire, burn forever in Hellfire.” Her mouth is warm, breath a secretive whisper against his lips as she kisses him. He twists his head away, eyes frantically taking in his surroundings, trying to get his bearings.
He recognizes this place. Sam’s college apartment. The room is steeped in the scent of Sam, and Dean wonders if it’s Hell itself that creates this place or Jess’s memories alone.
This is so fucked up.
She’s lying naked next to him, smooth tanned skin, ripe curves, hair like silken gold fanning out over the pillow.
“Jess. Why are you doing this? Sam…”
Her hand wraps around his cock, glides up the length, slow tugs and pulls.
“No.”
“Shh… Dean, it’s okay.” Jess kisses him, long flash of pink tongue, lapping, dipping inside his mouth. She sits up on the bed, throws one leg across his body. Her cunt is wet, burning hot, rubbing against his dick. It’s pure instinct that gets him hard.
“No…” He grabs her forearms, looks her in the eye. “I know I’m supposed to suffer. But not like this.”
“Take this,” she says, smoothing a hand through his hair, body sinking down on his cock, “and be glad. Because what they would do to you…. You could never come back from.”
Jess thinks she’s being merciful. This is just as much a punishment as anything else. Maybe worse.
He closes his eyes, bites against his lower lip and tries not to feel the way she slides up and down his cock, slick cunt squeezing him, her hands pressed to his chest, tips of her nails digging in. The tiny, breathy noises she makes as she rides him, and fuck, it’s wrong, so wrong. He can’t do this, just fucking can’t—
When he opens his eyes, they’re on the ceiling, bed she used to sleep in with Sam spread out below them, sheets rippling like a deep blue ocean. Jess is on fire, hips still grinding against him. Flames lick her skin in slow motion, flesh blackening, halo of fire around her body, rolling out in waves and her hair dances, writhing against the air on ripples of heat. He sucks in a scalding breath, fingers tightening in her crumbling arms. There's smoke in his lungs, thick gray-black clouds that taste like ashes. Taste like her.
He comes violently, her body burning against him. Fire spreads like liquid, orange-white bloom over his body, catching on the tiny hairs of his arms. He can smell his own skin burning as he comes, but he doesn’t scream. He deserves worse.
*
When his eyes flutter open, he’s lying on the bed again, and he has no sense of time having passed.
Jess sits at the vanity, brush working through her long golden hair again and again until it gleams like chrome. “Sam will thank me, when he comes for you.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, got my doubts about that.” Dean throws an arm over his forehead. “But he’ll save you, too.”
Jess looks at him in the mirror, those blue eyes empty and glassy as a doll’s. Dean feels a shudder work its way down his spine.
“There’s nothing left to save,” she says.
*
Time passes strangely in Hell, and sometimes Dean can’t tell if he’s been here for a moment, or eternity. There’s no solid ground. All he has is this room, Jess, and the bed. At least here, he knows what to expect.
And God help him, he’s starting to want it.
He runs his hand down between her legs, fingertip circling the swell of her clit. Her hips buck against him, and he presses a hand to her belly, slides his finger inside her wet cunt and holds her there while he pushes against spot inside her that makes her shove harder against him. He leans in with his weight, keeps holding her while he shoves another finger in, works that spot and thumbs lazily against her clit until she comes, shivering around him and shaking apart.
She’s spent, completely lax against the bed when he moves his body down the bed, pulls his fingers free and wipes them against the sheets. He settles between her thighs and pushes them apart, tongue swirling around her clit, ripe scent of her clinging to his chin in wet droplets as he pushes his face into the softness of her, sucks the tiny nub of flesh between his teeth. She twists, crying out, and he suckles harder, tongue flicking under the hood. Her fingers sink into his hair, gripping like talons, pulling, hips shoving into his chin, bruising with impact. He growls, spreads his fingers over her thighs, thumbs hooked behind her knees, opens her and holds her. Lips sealed around thin, pink skin, he sucks her mercilessly, tongue stroking her clit until she comes, almost screaming, contractions so violent he almost can’t hold her.
She’s senseless, eyes glazed, struggling to breathe as he glides up her body, shoves his cock inside her. She spreads her legs wider, pink mouth opening round and wide, hair tumbling in waves around her shoulders. Throat bare, held up like an offering, and he lets his mouth dip, slide along the curve of her, salty sweat against his tongue. She tastes real.
He rides her into the bed, fingers gripping her shoulders, holding her there while he slams his hips, cock scraping over the spot inside her.
He hopes if he holds her there hard enough the fire won’t come.
*
The next time he wakes, there’s a little girl sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Hello,” she says. She’s beautiful; cold porcelain doll with bow shaped lips painted bubblegum pink, curly hair dark hair pulled into pony tails. Her eyes flicker white when Dean sits up.
“Lilith.” Jess’s voice is a pale, frightened shadow.
“You shouldn’t have taken him, Jess. I had big plans for him.”
Jess’s hands are shaking, and she won’t look the demon in the eye. “You know Sam is coming for him.”
“Oh, yes,” Lilith nods, smiling. “And keeping Dean kind of intact will make Sam crazy to save him. Careless. So you can keep your new toy for a while longer. But when I’m done dealing with Sam… this one goes back to the hooks, and the demons have their way.”
“If Sam comes, it won’t be without a plan. There’s not gonna be anything left of you by the time we’re done,” Dean promises her.
Her feet kick against the bed. Black, patent leather shoes strapped to her feet, slow swing back and forth. “How are you, Dean? Enjoying fucking your brother’s dead girlfriend?” she asks with a smile, like she’s asking if he wants cake.
Dean grits his teeth. “Fuck you.”
Lilith twines a strand of hair around one finger and smiles up at him sunnily. “Not me. But there’s someone else you might be interested in, since you’re enjoying this so much.”
There’s a dark haired woman in the doorway, and she steps into the room, light creeping over her features.
Oh, God. God no.
“Thanks for trying to save me,” Madison says with a tight smile. She’s naked, gorgeous. There’s a crimson stain just above her heart, black hole in the center. “Nice try.”
He knows what’s going to happen. Feels another thin thread of his mind snap even as his body betrays him, starts to respond. He bites down on his tongue, tries to remember that it could be worse, so much worse than this. Thinks of demons stripping him bare, bodies nuzzling, intimate against his skin. He can imagine what they would have done to him.
Madison straddles him, slides down on his cock and he grabs her thighs, groans as she clamps down around him. Jess spreads her knees around his head and sinks down, slick cunt bumping his mouth, and he flicks his tongue out.
His brother’s dead lovers, riding his cock, his face. He should hate himself for letting this happen. But Dean’s never been good at resisting this, and they all know it. The shame he feels in his belly has nothing on the searing force of his orgasm.
Madison keeps fucking him, slides her fingers inside Jess’s body and makes Jess come, gushing all over Dean’s chin while he licks and sucks her through it. Madison comes too, squeezing and shuddering on Dean’s dick, and by the time the girls trade places, he’s hard again.
It gets easier to give in with every stroke, every glide of skin on skin. And some deep, dark part of him is enjoying it. He can feel it growing, swelling slow like a cancer, black and rotten.
He wonders how long it will be until he doesn’t care anymore.