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Summary
Sam Winchester runs away from home one night, fleeing from his drunk father. In all of his misery and all of the rain, a man in a beige trench coat offers him kindness at a bus stop and he jumps the first love train he sees. Eventually, their meetings escalate and Sam cuts ties with his father, following the man (called Castiel) down the yellow brick road. There, he discovers that it's not what is seems and the boy begins to hate and fear but finds himself unable to leave. The silence becomes too loud and Sam just wants to be in love, reassures himself that he's still madly in love because he has no other option. He finds himself with two hands in pain, knows that Castiel's taking advantage of him but he can't care anymore. It doesn't matter that their love isn't traditional. Castiel will return his feelings one day, Sam just has to be patient the way Bonnie waits for Clyde.
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It smells like one thousand degrees and a volcano ready to blow when Dean Winchester finishes attaching the ankle chains onto his brother's foot. The look on Sam's face is somewhere between a grimace and a call for murder, Omega eyes bleeding red in the low light. The stench, it reeks of rebellion and defiance; oddly strong for an Omega, even a recently turned one. Dean knows this shouldn't be happening, that he just has to—can only hope to—wait out this period of tragedy. Sam though, as much as his mind's concerned, he's still ninety-eight percent Alpha. And Alphas don't like to be restrained, locked down and treated as lesser than. Before the chains on his hands are attached, he tries to convey somewhere between a plea for his brother and a threat for dignity but when that doesn't work and the cuffs finds its mark, it feels like goddamn torture on Sam's soul.
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Malcolm isn't gentle, he isn't kind. He's a gunman, a rogue with a stubborn heart all striped bare from his chest, something you owns and cherish. You're the only one who can tell if it's a grin or growl he cracks when he brings you close, hands across your hips and body pressing up against your narrow bones. You like him like that, you like those nights when he gets a little messed up, lets his restraints snap and break skin and draw up bruises and bitemarks across your collar and neck while you're leaving white crescent moons across his back in turn, the look under your tipped hat snarky and smug.
Series
- Part 8 of Telltale Intimacy
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Summary
It's a restless night for Kayn the moment Master Zed summons him to his private chambers with cold eyes, cold drawl and icy tone. His voice is barely a rasp, a caught-on whisper but a full-body shiver tears its way under the apprentice's skin all the same. The air burns like acid all around, poison drips from his veins but he can't get enough of the intoxicating madness because it hurts, it fucking hurts so good that he howls once again when the whip is brought down on his already lacerated and flaking back; thousands of broken veins ripple and blood flies when the motion is repeated twenty times too many.
Series
- Part 2 of Resolute Relations
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Summary
He is not merciful, no one ever expects him to be and Kayn is no different. The demonic hands that wraps around his throat is not an empty warning as Swain gives it a firm, unyielding flex and closes in. Relentless teeth scrape along his throat and down his collar where it finds its mark, drawing up blood and tearing open skin. Kayn almost hisses out at the contact but the icy smile upon his own features is a bold contradiction; if only looks could cut. The exhale is demanding-Swain no longer let him inhale, a hand cupping his jawline as the general brings him close with a blank look, too close for real comfort.
Series
- Part 1 of Resolute Relations

