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I know he feels guilty, dirty, wrong, like he's the worst person in the world for coming to my room again and again, taking me, making me moan his name, making me lose control, taking his pleasure from my body. But Dean doesn't know the truth, that I make him come to me again and again, pulling him like a magnet, unable to fight me. He touches me, and I moan so pretty for him, all the time taking what I need, feeding off of his energy.
It's fucked up, but he's mine, no matter what, my Big Bro. And I know how much he wants me, how he watched me, would stare at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice, long before I started this with him.
When I was younger I fed off our father’s dreams, but the real thing, feeling Dean inside of me as I feed from him, intensifying what he already wanted, making him take that step and come to me, touch me, taste me. Every night I take him inside of me, every night I take just enough, not enough to hurt Dean but enough to feed me at the same time.
Dean has tried to stop, tried to put his attention on others, but it never works. They aren’t good enough, they aren’t what he needs, they aren’t me. He’s as addicted to this as I am, I could never feed off another, not anymore.
Ever since the first time he took me, whispering apologies the entire time, begging me to stop him as I begged him for more and more, I knew he was hooked. I’ve tried feeding elsewhere, his jealousy kicks in whenever he sees another touch me, get too close to what’s his. I know I shouldn’t do this, I should move on, find another body to use, but I can’t.
I’ve been Sam since he was a baby looking up into yellow eyes from his crib, burning that foul blood the demon tried feeding him as it slid down my throat, I’ve been Sam so long that I no longer remember who I was. All I know is that there are some seriously pissed off demons who want me dead for taking Sam and making him mine, for preventing whatever they had in store for him. And they say I am the monster.
In a way I saved Sam, at the same time I damned him. I can feel his soul, trapped behind my essence, lashing out at me, trying to push me out. And yet he clings to Dean as much as I do, calling out for him in my mind, as if Dean has ever known anyone but me. I’m the only brother Dean has ever known.
It’s wrong, I know this, but it’s my nature. To feed, and corrupt. And yet… something about Dean calls to me, something pure and holy, as if this is who I was always supposed to be, Sam Winchester.
Whenever I am away from Dean I feel an emptiness, an ache, a void that I can't fill. I try so hard to fight the pull he has on me, knowing that this is probably going to end badly for both of us. If, no when, Dad finds out the truth about me he'll hunt me, kill me like the monster I am, and I'm scared of what that will do to Dean.
My kind don't feed exclusively off of one person, and I never questioned why that was, but now... now I wonder. I can't ask anyone questions, it's too risky.
I wonder what Dean's real brother would have been like. Would he have been as drawn to Dean as I am, or would he have gone out with others, slept with others, would he have dreamed about Dean taking him?
Dean will hate me, if he ever learns the truth, hate what I am, what I did, hate how I stole his brother, took over his body, made it my own, hate that I have used him, night after night, year after year now. It's been 3 years since the first time, 3 years of passion and want and obsession.
Dean still tries to fight sometimes, fight what both of us want, what both of us need, and yet every night he comes to me, touching, taking, making both of us moan and ache in the most perfect of ways.
Bobby caught us once, but he stayed silent, believing that it would only damage us if he told Dad. And yet, maybe he should have. It was early on, before I became addicted to this, addicted to Dean. Sam screams in my mind, trying every single day to make me leave him, to let him free, but I can't.
I can feel Dean's eyes on me as I sit here, lost in my thoughts. He tries not to stare, tries so hard to stay away from me, and yet he can't. I look over at him, my stolen hazel eyes dark with lust as I stand, stretching, the too small t-shirt I am wearing riding up my stomach.
Dean's on me in a flash, shoving me against the wall, hands in my hair, mouth on mine. I wrap my leg around his hip, humping against him, moaning like a whore, trying to get more contact. He's lost in my touches, my kiss.
I wonder if he'll take me here, up against the wall, in the middle of the living room. I want him so much, I can feel Dean coursing through my veins, my drug. He yanks at my shirt, pulling it over my head, tossing it to the floor. My pants go next as he spins me around, shoving me face first against the wall. He drops to his knees, hands on my ass as his tongue teases me open. I'm moaning, loudly, far too loudly for where we are, but I can't help myself, Dean makes me lose control every time.
My body is shaking, trembling with want as Dean teases and torments me, tongue and fingers stretching me open, making me want. Dean pulls away and I beg him to come back, to never stop, but he hushes me softly, standing behind me, his hands on my hips. I want to scream with pleasure as I feel him enter me, filling me once more.
His mouth finds my neck, and he sucks yet another mark into my flesh, claiming me as his as I have claimed him a mine. He's rough this time, almost brutal as he fucks me.
I move with him, resting my hands over his, feeding off of him as he slams into me again and again, moaning my name, telling me how good I am for him, telling me I'm his and his alone. It's only been three days since we last did this, Dean was gone, somewhere, I'm not really sure, and yet it feels different, harsher, more violent, not that our sessions have been soft and gentle, oh no, not with the two of us, but this is different. His hands are bruising me, fingernails almost drawing blood.
I have to choke back a scream when he bites down on my neck, drawing blood, his fingers digging into my hips. I can feel blood running down my legs, and I know he's gripped me so hard he broke skin. He slams into me once more, and it's different, something is off about this. For the first time in a very long time taking Dean actually hurts a bit, as if somehow not only his attitude has changed but his cock has as well.
A cold chill of terror runs through me as he growls against my neck.
Dean pulls out of me, making me feel empty and lost. I barely have time to think before he's grabbing me, throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me up the stairs. He's still growling, as if he's angry, at me, at himself, at the world at large, I don't really know.
He tosses me down on the bed, locking the door behind us, moving the dresser in front of the door, sealing me in with him. Dean's smirking as he prowls towards the bed, blood on his lips, his hands, eyeing me like a piece of meat.
He's on me before I can say anything, mouth claiming mine, hands positioning me to exactly where he wants me. I moan into the kiss as he slams into me, body on fire, feeling like I'm being ripped in two.
The thing that scares me, the thing that makes this so off for us is that Dean can tell I'm in pain and he's not apologizing, it's like it's fueling him on, his passion raising to levels I've never felt before, and I can't help but take more, more than I have ever dared to take before.
Dean leans down, his mouth at my ear, purring my name. I cling to him tightly, wincing as he grabs me by the hair, roughly tilting my head to the side.
"Not human," he growls, slamming into me one more time before stilling.
I can feel him inside of me, huge, unmoving, and when I try and pull back pain races through me as if something is holding us together. Realization dawns on me, and I know now why this if different. Dean's different, changed, no longer human. "No," I whisper brokenly.
"Are you even my brother?" Dean accuses, forcing me to look at him.
And that's the real question, isn't it? Am I his brother, or aren't I. I go for the easiest answer, "Yes, and no at the same time."
He raises an eyebrow, anger and lust dueling on his face for dominance, "What are you?"
There's no other choice but to tell him, I know he'll know if I'm lying, "Incubus."
He laughs at that, a dark, bitter laugh, "Wrong answer, Sammy. Mine, you're mine."
I swallow, nodding as I agree with him.
It's almost an hour before Dean pulls out of me, my body screaming with pain. He pulls me against his chest, running his hand along my back. It feels as if my blood is burning, as if venom is racing through my veins.
My eyes fly open as I realize just what is going on, why Dean is different now. "Werewolf," one word, and yet it speaks volumes.
Dean laughs, kissing along my neck, "And you're my mate. I wonder if you'll change, Sammy. If your body with shift, or not."
I want to tell him that I will, that I can feel the change already ripping through me, but all that comes out of my mouth is a scream of agony as my body feels like it's being torn apart and put back together, cell by cell. I can feel Sam inside my head, screaming along with me, and yet closer than he's ever been, as if he and I are becoming one. Dimly I can hear pounding on the door and Dad's voice, demanding to be let in, but I can't do a thing. I can't move, I can't speak. All is pain.
It's dark out by the time I come to, and Dean is sitting next to me, licking his lips as his hand runs down my body. He leans in, kissing me, hard, possessive, claiming.
I can't feel Sam in my mind anymore, and yet at the same time I know why, I AM Sam, Sam is me, we're one. Dean made sure of that, he claimed us, made us whole, made us his, combined us in a way I didn't think was possible. Dean's my world, my master, my drug, my obsession, my mate, my lover, my big brother. For now, and always.