Chapter Text
Dean is alone with the Baron now. There are no guards with escorting him this time, just a large hand on the small of his back as he’s led down corridors and up stairs. For some reason, this feels even more ominous than the guards with their weapons.
Everything happened so fast that it seemed like a dream. Before he knew it the ring was being put on his finger, and then he was hearing you may now kiss the bride, and he tried to lean away but that iron grip closed around his waist, and that cold mouth was pressing horribly against his…and then it was over. Underbheit was herding him back down the aisle in the other direction, away from the clamor of the crowd and into these dim and eerily silent stone halls, leaving Dean with his head spinning, disbelieving what had just happened as he’s led deeper into the unfamiliar depths of the castle.
Underbheit - his husband now, officially, terrifyingly - seems to be in a great mood. “Oh, how exciting!” he exclaims. “Do you know what happens after the wedding?”
“…No,” Dean says, still wondering about their destination.
“Now it is time to consummate our marriage,” Underbheit says. Dean doesn’t know what that word means; maybe Underbheit really does intend to eat him after all. He doesn’t like the sound of it, or the way the Baron seems to grin to himself with anticipation.
They pass through more rooms and staircases until they reach a large doorway with several guards. As they open the door for Underbheit and Dean sees inside, he realizes this must be the Baron’s own quarters.
Dean is suddenly thrown off balance, his feet being swept out from under him - Underbheit has picked him up and is carrying him over the threshold. “Put me down!” Dean yelps, trying to twist out of his arms.
Underbheit just laughs, immovable as a mountain against Dean’s attempts to get away. He dumps him down on the large bed at the center of the room. Dean hears the guards swing the large, heavy doors shut again, the thunk as they close ringing with a dreadful finality.
“Now, my dear,” Underbheit booms, “let me see you.”
An even greater dread rises inside Dean. Underbheit still thinks he’s a girl, and now he’s going to figure out the truth. Dean thinks he should probably say something, even though it’s already way past the point of being too late, but before he can figure out what to say, Underbheit is tugging at his dress. Hard.
Dean tries to wriggle away, but the Baron has a solid grip on the fabric, and it just makes things worse. He hears a tearing sound from a seam somewhere along his side.
Letting out an alarmed squeak, Dean twists around, feeling for the rip to try to cover it up, only to feel it split open wider. He feels cool air over his side. A surge of even more panic goes through him as he remembers that on top of every other indignity he’s experienced here, when they dressed him for the wedding they didn’t bother to give him any kind of underwear.
“Hey - wait - ” he protests, but it’s useless. Underbheit is peeling the rest of the dress off him, tearing it as he goes, and before he knows it the last scraps of his cover are gone and all of him is on display.
The Baron stares at Dean’s crotch, clearly perturbed. As Dean cringes at being so exposed, Underbheit tosses him on his back and lifts one leg to get a better look at what’s between his thighs.
“What is this?” he thunders.
There’s confusion and anger in his voice, and Dean is flat on his butt in his bed, naked. This is bad, this is really bad.
“I, uh,” Dean stutters, “I really think, uh, there’s been a big misunderstanding here - maybe you should just let me put my clothes back on, and maybe it would be better if you just, uh, let me leave - ”
“Leave! Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Underbheit says. “You are not getting out of it that easily. A marriage is binding. Even if it is made on false pretenses.” Dean wants to object that it’s not like he wanted Underbheit to think he was a girl, he didn’t want any part of this, but the Baron is leaning closer to him, leering as he says, “Until death do us part.”
Dean wants to lean away, but he has only a few inches before he’s backed against the headboard with nowhere else to go. “We will simply have to make the best out of this situation. This problem is not so insurmountable,” the Baron says. “You still have a back entrance. I suppose you will not be giving me any children…but a wife has other uses.”
He pulls a small bottle from a drawer by the bed. “We will need a little assistance, then. I wasn’t expecting to have you this way so soon. I wanted to enjoy my wife in the more traditional fashion on our wedding night, but since that will not be possible, we can skip right to doing it this way.”
Underbheit begins removing his belt, and Dean is filled with a new surge of fear, even more powerful than before. It’s enough to break through his state of terrified paralysis. This was scary and weird before, sure, and yeah, he wanted to go home, but now - now he needs to get out of here right now, no matter what it takes. So Dean tries to make a break for it.
Underbheit catches him. Dean has hardly even made it off the bed, and it takes Underbheit only two powerful strides across the room before he’s clamping his hands around Dean’s arms and dragging him back onto the mattress, laughing.
“You are a feisty one! I like that,” he says. “I will relish breaking your spirit. Come, behave. You will enjoy it.”
He flips Dean onto his stomach and pins him there. It barely takes him one hand to hold Dean in place, even as he struggles. Dean can hear rustling and feel Underbheit moving as he does something with his free hand, and realizes he’s starting to take the rest of his clothes off.
“You are a pretty thing. You make a lovely girl. From the back you can hardly tell the difference.” Underbheit must be fully undressed now, because as he runs his hands down Dean’s spine, Dean can feel skin pressed up against the back of his own thigh. And then - something else fleshy, but stiff. And big. Dean’s heartbeat goes haywire again. “So young and slender, such smooth skin,” Underbheit is saying. “I am going to enjoy you.”
Dean is choked up with fear. “Please,” he gasps out.
“Yes, go ahead, beg for it. I’ll give you what you want. Impatient, aren’t you?” Underbheit chuckles.
“No - ” Dean is cut off by Underbheit grabbing him by the rear and spreading his cheeks, and then the shock of feeling something cold and wet dripping onto his hole.
He hears more slick sounds from behind him, but with his face pressed against the bed, he can’t see what Underbheit is doing. He barely has time to put together what’s happening before something else is pressing at his hole - something solid - and then something huge is pushing its way inside him.
Dean screams. Everything between his legs is suddenly ignited with pain. A tidal wave is slamming his brain, not just the pain, the sudden sharp ache not just at his hole but also inside him, but the abrupt shock of intrusion, the feeling that the air has left his lungs, the crushing claustrophobia at how it feels wrong and he can’t get away.
Underbheit pushes Dean’s face down into the mattress. “Hush! Don’t make that kind of noise. It’s not befitting of a baroness. And your husband doesn’t like it.”
Dean grits his teeth and whimpers instead. He wants to scream, but he’s afraid the Baron will hurt him worse, so he takes all his willpower and suppresses the sounds that want to come out. It feels hard to breathe, and he doesn’t know if that’s from Underbheit’s hand on the back of his head, pressing him into the bedsheets with smothering force, or just his own fear.
Underbheit begins moving his hips, and Dean feels the horrible sensation of him moving inside him as well. His skin crawls at the wrongness of the feeling invading the depths of his body. “Good girl,” Underbheit praises him.
It hurts. It hurts in places Dean didn’t even know he could hurt. Every time Underbheit keeps moving in and out of him makes it worse, so he can’t even get used to the awful way it feels, and Dean can feel his hole spasming involuntarily around Underbheit, his body trying to clamp shut against the forced entry.
“So tight,” Underbheit mutters, “Amazing.”
Tears are gathering at the corners of Dean’s eyes and leaking down his face. He’s too full of fear and overwhelmed by pain to be embarrassed that he’s crying, any self-respect that he might have had driven out by the terror of being trapped, pinned down under the Baron’s sweaty, suffocating bulk.
Underbheit is making strange, terrible sounds behind him, low groans and grunts. Between them he keeps telling Dean how good he feels, how pretty he is. Dean feels sick.
It keeps going, for what feels like forever, until finally Underbheit lets out a long groan and his grip on Dean tightens painfully. One hand is on Dean’s back, holding him down, the other on his head, now suddenly pulling his hair. The pain of having his hair yanked at is mild compared to everything else happening, but it still brings more tears to Dean’s eyes. At the same time, there’s the revolting feeling of something warm and wet spurting inside him.
Underbheit’s harsh thrusts into him slow, and then he draws back and pulls all the way out. Dean braces himself, waiting to be split back open again in a moment, waiting for the pain to start again, but…it doesn’t come.
Is it over? He feels a little relief, but not enough. He’s mostly still stunned as the Baron stands up and moves away from him.
Dean lies there, motionless. He realizes dimly that he could try now to get away, to do something, but his body aches, and he feels weak, and he…he can’t. Something thick and wet is beginning to leak out of him. He feels disgusting.
Underbheit is getting dressed again. Dean, with his clothes being torn in half, doesn’t get the opportunity. Not that he wants to put the stupid wedding dress back on.
He wants his normal clothes. He wants to not be here. But nothing he wants matters, and he feels small and helpless.
Helplessness isn’t new to Dean. By now he’s used to being just a pawn, something valuable to target as leverage over his father, but not of any interest on his own. He can’t even be strong or plucky like Hank is while they’re being swapped back and forth between Pop and various bad guys like a couple of cheap trading cards. Dean has no shortage of reminders that he’s insignificant, weak, not really good for anything - he may be able to forget it for a while, but the realization always comes back in the end. But it’s never felt like this before, so overpowering, like it’ll never stop, even if the violation has.
The room is quiet. Dean can hear Underbheit moving around somewhere a few feet away, but neither of them speak. After a while, Dean dares to roll onto his side. His thighs are sticky, the fluids trickling out of him cooling on his skin, and he feels dirty and shameful, but at least this way he’s not positioned so humiliatingly, facedown on his knees.
“What to do with you now?” says Underbheit, breaking the silence at last. “You could be entertaining to play with for a little while. But it could become inconvenient to me if anyone were to find out what you really are.”
Dean feels numb. He doesn’t even care anymore. The words don’t inspire fear in him they would have before, even an hour ago. Underbheit could mean to kill him, but even that possibility makes Dean feel nothing but a dull resignation. If the Baron does decide to get rid of him, at least he won’t have to go on after this. Even if he could go home now, see his family again, Dean doesn’t know if he could stand to face any of them.
Underbheit doesn’t seem to care that Dean doesn’t respond to him. He appears content to ignore Dean now that he’s served his purpose, and Dean supposes it’s better to be ignored than the alternative.
He wonders if he’ll be called on to serve this purpose again, or if this is it for him, but either outcome registers only dully in his mind. He stares across the expanse of the bed, feeling empty. It doesn’t matter what happens now.