Chicago…St. Louis…San Francisco…hell, Dean would've followed Sammy to Waskom, Texas if that was where his little brother had gone. But, as he hung on the stone wall in the back room of the darkened club, he questioned that blind faith for the tenth time that day.

A black leather mask covered his face, the zipper undone to allow him to breathe. Heavy chains surrounded his wrists, anchoring him to the wall. A cool breeze on his sweat-soaked skin confirmed that he was completely naked. The sounds around him were muffled by the leather covering his head but one thing was for sure - he couldn't hear his little brother no matter how much he strained.

It had started out so normally. He had opened the door to their motel room, just as he had a hundred times before. He stepped into the cookie-cutter room and glanced over at Sammy sitting at the table, his laptop open, fingers furiously tapping away at the keys, just as he had done a hundred times before. And, like countless times before this, Sammy had looked at him and said, "We have to check this out."

And he had followed. Well, technically, Dean had led, but Sammy was the one in control. An abandoned warehouse, turned into one of the town's hottest new nightclubs. Strange noises from the back rooms, lights that flickered on and off at will, the cold chill that surrounded the bar area in the hours before customers packed in. Definitely right up their alley.

The outside door was ajar as the afternoon sun warmed the air. They had walked in, looked around. Dean was preparing to check for electromagnetic activity when everything went black. Blunt objects to the back of the head tend to have that effect on people. And now here he was, chained to a wall and wondering what had happened to Sam.

The feel of leather-clad fingers on his chest caused him to flinch. "Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, his mouth restricted by the mask. "Where's Sam?" The fingers trailed over his chest, down to his stomach as he tried to pull away. "I asked you a question, damn it!" A raspy, "Sssh" was the only response he got. "Where the hell is my brother?" He shouted. He flinched again when something hard hit his leg.

"No talking." He couldn't tell from the whispered command if the voice was male or female. Dean strained against the chains and his efforts earned him another blow. He couldn't tell what was being used, but he knew that it hurt. A whip of some sort…it would trail down his body before the soft crack reached his ears and the hard blows landed on his skin.

Pain rippled through his body as the whip continued to land randomly on his skin. His screams were muffled by the mask and he wondered if somewhere close by, his brother was receiving the same treatment. The thought of someone hurting Sam like this caused him to fight even harder, pulling against the chains. Feeling the metal biting into his wrists, Dean began to make promises silently in his head.

If I get out of here alive, I promise to treat Sammy better, he thought. I swear I'll look out for him no matter what happens. I'll stop hiding his laptop. No more jokes about his weird habits. I'll even let him drive the Impala…

The whip cracked again, lashing around his hip and landing on the soft skin of his ass. Tears began to form, threatening to spill over. Who had attacked them? Laughter filled the room, soft chuckles that told him whoever was behind this was human, not demon as he first feared. Again, he asked for his brother. This time, his question was rewarded not with an answer, but with cold metal biting into his nipples. Dean blushed slightly as he realized the pain was mildly erotic.

His brain was working a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to escape. The room was quiet for a moment and he thought whoever had been with him had gone. That's when he felt strong hands grasp his wrists, turning him toward the wall. The soft whoosh of the whip arcing through the air let him know what was coming but it was too quick for him to move, to try to avoid the blow.

The leather fronds bit into his skin once again and his body tensed. The sting on his back had barely abated when the whip hit again, this time across his ass. Dean cried out again and again. His brain whirred with thoughts and emotions, things he wasn't ready to admit, even to himself. But the growing erection was proof that no matter how much he was protesting, it wasn't as bad as he would like to believe.

Another chuckle echoed off the wall as fingers whispered over his skin, tracing red welts from his back around to his belly. The same hands that had just wielded a whip against him now traced around the clamps on his nipples, pinching them slightly. Dean groaned, as much from pain as pleasure. He tried to move away from the hands but a part of him wouldn't allow it.

He found himself moving into the touches, silently willing the hands to go lower. When they did, he let out a sigh. He felt leather brush against his back as those nimble fingers wrapped around his cock. Large fingers…had to be a man. And as much as the logical part of his brain told him it was wrong, Dean couldn't help leaning back against the large frame behind him, thrusting his hips forward.

The hand wrapped around his cock remained still, fingers tapping against his erection. After a few minutes of the incessant teasing, he couldn't take it any more. "I don't know who the hell you are," Dean said through gritted teeth, "and right now, I don't really care. But if you're gonna do this, then hurry the hell up and DO IT!"

Hands grasped his shoulders, turning Dean around not very gently. He was shoved against the wall, his bare aching skin rubbing against the concrete wall. The question he started to ask died in his throat, a groan taking over as soft, warm lips wrapped around his cock and a large hand cupped his balls. The sensations of a wet tongue and maddening suction made him forget everything. The fact that he was blindfolded, chained to a wall, freshly beaten and without a clue as to where his brother was no longer mattered. The only thing Dean cared about at that moment was the blow job he was getting from an obviously experienced mouth.

He felt the heat building in his belly, his skin seemingly humming along with the lips around his cock. A fire erupted deep inside him as he came, lights exploding inside his head as whoever it was drained him of every drop he had. His body twitched against the chains as he started to come down from the high.

His chest was heaving, a smile trying to form as he was turned again, his face pressed against the wall this time. He felt the cool wetness as a finger tentatively probed his ass. His body clenched, not sure if he was ready or able to do what he knew was to come. "No," he whispered, his voice no more than a croak. "I…I've never…I don't want…"

The fingers probed deeper as Dean tried to squirm away. When he realized it was a losing battle, he tried to relax, tried to think of things that would take his mind off what was about to happen. He thought about the Impala. He thought about demons. He thought about cold beer and Moon Pies and sunsets. And as a hard, throbbing cock slid into his stretched ass, he thought about…

Sammy. God, the only thought that had kept him going his entire life. His little brother, his best friend. He thought about playing catch when they were boys…sneaking into the movies…watching through the hole in the wall of the girls' gym, trying to catch a glimpse of Becky Morgan's overly developed boobs. And then he thought about the nights on the road, the two of them huddled together in a single bed, trying to stay warm…trying not to be scared.

As the hard cock moved in and out of his body, Dean realized that as long as he was thinking about Sammy, he liked it. His eyes flew open inside the leather mask at that thought…he wouldn't mind this happening if it was his little brother's cock filling him. He wouldn't mind Sammy's lips sucking his cock, swallowing his load.

Bare fingers wrapped around his cock this time, stroking him as wildly as the cock thrusting in his ass. Part of him knew it was wrong, to be thinking of his little brother in the middle of the best fuck of his life but he couldn't help it. He knew it wouldn't last long and as he felt the strength of his orgasm hit once again, he choked out his brother's name.

Dean had no idea how long the hard cock continued to thrust into him, or when the man behind him finally exploded inside. He wasn't aware of the chains being removed from his wrists, or the strong hands lowering him to the floor. He didn't even notice the leather mask being peeled away from his face. Dean didn't notice a thing until strong arms wrapped around him and soft lips pressed a kiss to his forehead. His eyes fluttered open and looked at the only thing that mattered to him.

"Sammy?" he whispered, quickly sitting up to examine his brother for injuries. That's when he saw the leather glove on Sammy's left hand…the whip laying nearby…the fact that his brother was as naked as him. "What the hell…?" Dean began to ask. Sammy just smiled, winked. "How else was I gonna ever get a chance to do this?" he said. "I woulda spent the rest of my life, watching you, wondering what if felt like. I can only want for so long, Dean. Then I gotta have."

Sammy braced himself, waiting for Dean to punch him, kill him…leave him. When Dean grabbed his shoulders, he was prepared for the worst. What he got was a hard kiss, lips crushed against his, familiar hands soothing his skin, exploring parts of him that begged for discovery. And when his brother finally came up for air, Sammy got a smile and a word of warning. "Next time, little brother," Dean growled in his ear, "next time, you get to be the bitch."