Title: Soda Blue & Red & Yellow
Pairing: Wincest
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Demon!Dean&Sam, Buttplug
Word Count: 1, 472 
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, don't sue.
Summary: Dean finds Sam, slicked up, and gets angry.
Notes: This is a drabble, my first finished wincest fic-of-any-kind. This really was to fuel my hunger for a demon!Sam with his lover demon!Dean, because we need demon brothers in this world. So yeah, sorta like a PWP. Enjoy.

It's more than warm here and Sam twists and turns, jumps when the door slams open and Dean is standing there. "Sam," he grunts, low in his throat, and he's kneeling besides Sam's naked figure, stroking a hand on his cheek. "Dean," Sam gasps, throat raw and he grasps onto Dean's jacket, butter soft beneath his fingers. "Sammy, what did they do to you?" he asks, hands sweeping the length of Sam's body, to his neck, his chest, grazing his nipples, down his stomach, his hips, the curve of his ass, fingers brushing tentatively between before it rests against his entrance, slippery and slick.

 

With a growl, Dean delves his fingers in and Sam hitches a breath.

"Who?" growls Dean, and Sam shivers, looking up at him with yellow eyes. "They did," he gasps, "They touched me, Dean. Where were you? Where were you?" he asks, and Dean closes his eyes, teeth digging into his bottom lip in thought, in pain. "Who, Sam, who. Tell me who, and I’ll kill them. They don't touch you, they know that. They know." Sam sits up, moaning at the feel of Dean's fingers, still there, just there. He grasps the sides of Dean's face with his hands, looking at his face, marveling at the long lashes, the endless bronze of skin, skin, skin.

"Dean, Dean. I don't know, I don't know. Where were you?" he asks and Dean opens his eyes, a blood red curling in his iris, the jade colour no longer there. "I was, I was..." Dean brings a hand to his head. "I don't remember, Sammy," he whispers, voice low and hoarse, tears prickle the sides of his eyes, blood trickling down his cheeks an imitation of tears. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'll take you away from here.”

Here, the dungeon of Hell, the suppresser of thought, action, powers and Dean growls, hauls Sam into his arms and walks out, pass the dead guards, the traitors. He steps into the hall, miles on miles of darkness. With a snap of his fingers, the place changes, they are no longer in the dungeon’s hall but in their bedroom. "No," says Sam. "No, you deal with this now, Dean," he says, his eyes glow gold and the room changes, it's the throne room. Dean is sitting on the throne; Sam curled up on his lap, still naked, still dirty, still slick and full of Dean's fingers. Sam reaches up and wipes away Dean's tears, puts it to his own tongue and licks away the red mess of pain.

"No one touches me but you, no one touches you but me," he says, fingers grasping onto Dean's necklace and he pulls his older brother down for a kiss. Dean swallows and swallows all of the pain and fear Sam pours into him, swallows and swallows until he feels full, and his lung want to burst. Then he pulls away, eyes glowing bright, a dull pulse of brightness that pumps in time with Sam's. "Ruby!" shouts Dean, the sound echoes through the room, the hallways, everywhere. In a second, just a second, Ruby is there, blonde hair curling over her forehead, blood smearing her lips.

"You called, your majesties?" she says, humor in her voice though her face remains serious. "Hell meeting," says Dean. "In the meeting hall, in half a second, everyone has to be there. Let no one hide, or escape. Got it?" he says, the red bright and vicious in his eyes. Ruby's black eyes smirk but her lips are set straight. She raises an eyebrow and disappears faster than she arrives, leaving them alone again.

Dean look down at Sam and smiles softly, his brother looks so peaceful asleep. Dean moves to slide his fingers out but Sam mumbles, fingers clutching at his wrist as he wriggles further down on the fingers. "Sam," says Dean, voice low and full of warning. "Don't," mumbles Sam, grip tightening. "Don't want anyone... but you, De..."

Dean gives a soft sigh and pats Sam head.

"I'll clean you out, okay, baby boy? Just let go of my wrist, c'mon. That's a good boy," he murmurs, sliding his fingers out, already missing the warmth. Dean hauls Sam up, puts his arms over his shoulder and lets Sam straddle his lap. He makes quick work of his pants, freeing his cock from its confines. With a kiss to his neck, Dean slides in, and Sam lets out a whine, soft and pleasurable. Wrapping arms around Sam's waist, Dean thrusts up, slow and gentle, feeling every inch of his brother's smoothness.

"How does that feel, Sammy? Feels good? Feel clean?" he asks, pressing kisses to his brother's neck as Sam just sighs softly, smiling. "Yeah, De, feels good, feels clean, keep going." Dean keeps up the pace, alternatively going faster before slowly back, and Sam just whines softly, moans in whispers and comes in wisps of pleasure against his shirt, white on black. Dean licks the length of Sam's neck and coats him on the inside, washes away whatever filth Sam feels, with his come.

Pulling out, Sam whines, keeps his hold on Dean's thigh refusing to budge. "Sammy? What's the matter? I've cleaned you out, we're ready to go. Hell meeting, remember?" Sam glares at him, yellow a bright contrast to the gloomy lights of their throne room. “If you pull out, it’ll come out,” he says, pushing away from Dean, so that their chests are an arm’s length away but they’re still connected below. His cheeks have a light dusting of pink and Dean brings his arms up to Sam’s elbows, pulling and kissing the glow.

“Okay, okay. How about we compromise, okay? How about we get the Colt to help you?” asks Dean, all smirks and fun. “I don’t want that gun anywhere near me, I want Soda Blue,” smiles Sam, all seductive and feign innocence. Dean snaps his fingers, and a bright blue butt plug appears in his hand. In a flurry, Sam is pushed onto the throne, Dean between his legs. “Ready, baby boy?” asks Dean before he pulls out, swiftly, watching Sam’s hole stretch around him then away. Dean watches his come slowly trickling out before he positions the butt plug there, pushing in slowly as Sam groans and pushes down. “Dean,” he keens, knees squeezing onto Dean’s biceps.

When it’s in place, Dean stands Sam up, snaps his fingers and they’re both clothed and in the meeting hall in front of everyone. Dean leaves Sam to his chair and stands up, growling. The noise that vibrates through the room stops, and Dean glowers at them, the Hell scums. “You,” he says, pointing at the monsters before him.

“Among you, are those who dare violate your master, the leader who Azazel chose?” growls Dean, eyes glowing harshly as he bares his teeth in violence. “Your leader, Samuel, is here to lead you to victory. Do you not understand? There is no use pleasing me, and no use trying to infuriate me either, I do not care for any of you. I was not part of Azazel plan except for death. But among the high ups, I am with strength to destroy you all and to protect my brother. I will not hesitate to massacre,” he bites out. Vapors begin to rise from Dean as his anger grows and the fire in his eyes are shown in deadly menace.

With a wave of his arms, he sweeps the crowd with painful fire and cools when Sam presses against his back, lips against his pulse. Sam puts out a hand, gold ribbons thinly spun from his finger tips catches onto the room’s ceiling, puddles against the ground. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his free arm around Dean when the ribbons come to life and grasp onto different members of the crowd. “Dean,” murmurs Sam and Dean brushes his fingers against Sam’s wrists, sending fire through the ribbon as they wound themselves around and around those they hold onto. Their screams are heard as they diminish in a sight of blood, black ink and ashes.

“This is a warning to those who think of hurting Sam. He may be the gun but I am the hand that holds it, that pulls the trigger.”  Dean eyes sweep the room for reactions, most remain neutral but he can sense their fear, taste it on the tip of his tongue. Sam retracts his hand, brings Dean into a full body hug and they laugh, wild and carefree. Dean’s heart soars in feeling when he sees his brother back to normal and he smiles, bright, wide and lazy at the crowd. “Meeting adjourned,” he says, eyes bright red in warning, Sam draped behind him, eyes glowing just as bright in yellow and they’re gone with a snap of his fingers.