Bargain In Your Chains
::
"Does it hurt?" Alastair asks, grinning.
Dean doesn't answer – he won't plead, won't bargain, won't yell for (Sam) anyone.
His mouth is sewn shut and he's thankful.
Alastair is pushing slivers of wood under Dean’s fingernails, watching Dean shudder and clench his teeth, shouts muffled by crude stitching.
"We're just getting started," Alastair murmurs in his ear, black tongue pushing in until Dean's eardrum ruptures. He whispers bloody sweet nothings.
Dean sees himself, suddenly – black eyes and crooked grin, tearing apart bodies with his bare hands and nuzzling into their open wounds.
I won’t, Dean thinks.
“You will,” Alastair promises.
-
He won't plead. R. 100 words.
Alastair, Dean.
