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Spare the Rod	By : roguebitch Category: Supernatural > Slash - Male/Male Views: 5202 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Spare the Rod
- 1
It was bad enough that they were in Upstate New York so far that they might as well have been in freaking Canada. Bad enough that God hated this part of the country so much that it snowed from September to July and Dean had to work a job with a landscaping/snowplowing company. But the worst part was dealing with Sam.

Dad was off on a hunt, had been off on a hunt for over a week. Sammy had finally twigged to the fact that as soon as the semester was over, they would be moving on, and he was taking it out on Dean. One tall, skinny, moping seventeen-year-old with hair in his eyes, monosyllabic responses, six feet high and rising.

Dean had had enough.

He had spent the early morning hours clearing a light April snow from the company's clients' driveways, and then from lunch until quitting time attempting to dig up enough icy dirt to put someone's freaking delphiniums or lupins or whatever-the-fuck they were in for when the sun finally came out and the ground finally thawed. Dean was tired. He didn't think he'd ever get the dirt out from under his fingernails. While Dean had no beef with manual labor, nothing wrong with a man getting his hands dirty, he just wanted to forget about this day.

He'd picked up a couple of roast beef sandwiches and beers for dinner. Sam was nowhere in sight when he came through the front door of the most recent shithole apartment they were staying in, so he bellowed, “Sammy! I brought food!”

Sam emerged from their bedroom, blinking through messy bangs, scrawny and scowling.

“Dad call today?” Dean asked, as Sam gangled over to the spindly dining table and sat down. His chair creaked under his new weight.

“No,” Sam mumbled looking at his plate.

“You finish your homework?”

“Almost.”

“Well, my day was great, thanks for asking,” Dean started, scrubbing his hands off at the kitchen sink. “Had to plow a ton of driveways, and then dig up chunky, icy mud to put in someone's flowerbed.

Sam lifted his shoulder in a semi-shrug.

“And then I thought I'd be nice and bring dinner home so that my little brother wouldn't have to put up with my cooking again. Only I'm not really feeling the goodwill flowing, Sammy, not by a long fucking shot.”

Sam glanced up at him through his hair, glittering eyes malicious. “Nobody asked you to bring dinner, Dean.”

“No, that's true. I do it because taking care of you is my sacred duty as an older brother. You should appreciate it more.” Dean sat down and took a gigantic bite of his sandwich. Oh, it was good, tender roast beef with onions and horseradish and mayonnaise on a nice kaiser roll. He chewed happily.

Sam dissected his sandwich, removing the onions, and putting the lettuce and tomatoes in a pile before scraping the horseradish off onto his plate. Dean stared at him.

“Sammy, what are you doing?” Dean's voice became dangerously calm and quiet.

“I don't like onions or horseradish, Dean. If you were paying better attention to your 'sacred duty',” and wow, could Sammy ever cram a load of sarcasm into two words, “you would know that.”

Dean pushed his chair away from the table.

“Alright, that's it. Get up.”

“What? Why?”

“I said get up.” Dean yanked on back of Sam's chair hard enough to tip him out into a semi-crouch. He grabbed Sam by the nape of his neck and pulled him by main force. Dean propelled him until he was face-first against the wall. He forced Sam's hands up to clasp the back of his neck. Then Dean shoved his hip into one of Sam's skinny ass-cheeks, holding him in place, and unbuckled his belt. Sam tried to jerk away, but Dean hissed, “Stop that right now,” and Sam did. Dean felt fine tremors vibrate through Sam’s frame.

Dean's hands shook with fury. A cold, reptilian anticipation coiled in his belly.

“I'm tired of you, tired of your attitude, Sammy. I work hard all day and when I come home it would be nice to get a 'thank you, Dean' every so often. Especially when I bring us dinner.”

Sam mumbled something into the cheap wallboard and Dean yanked his head up by the hair.

“What was that, Sammy?”

“I said, I'm not pissed off at you.” Sam said, low.

“Well, that's too bad, because I'm sure as hell pissed at you.” Dean replied, pushing Sam's face back into the wall. “I really think you've been left to your own devices too much. You've forgotten how to be grateful for what you've got and what you're given. You've forgotten how to show respect. I think you need to be reminded of your manners.”

Dean kept Sam against the wall with his hip, ignoring the burn and rise of his dick in his pants as Sammy squirmed under his restraint.

He looped the belt through the buckle and held it in his hand.

“What are you gonna do, Dean?” Sam's voice wavered.

“I'm giving you an old-fashioned beating, Sammy. And I'm not gonna quit until you say 'thank you' and 'I'm sorry', you understand?”

“You really think that's going to work?” Sam's voice dripped scorn. Dean's arm swung back and the belt cracked across the entirety of Sam's ass, wrapping over his hip. Sam jerked into the wall, gasping.

“I think it might work just fine,” Dean laid another one on Sam, holding him fast by his hands clasped on his neck.

“You're lucky you don't get grounded or sent to bed without supper or something, this is the worst you're gonna get,” Dean gasped out, strapping Sam another couple of times. Sam's eyes were tight closed and he hissed between his teeth at every impact. He wasn't fighting Dean anymore, he seemed to be fighting to hold onto his control, but Dean was determined to take that, too.

“C'mon, Sammy, apologize and thank me and I'll stop,” Dean said, staring at Sam's contorted profile. Another couple of lashes with the belt and tears started trickling down Sam's cheek, matting the hair falling in his face. He was no longer hissing, but moaning as the belt fell across his ass.

“No, no,” Sam gasped, no longer flinching from the belt, pushing skinny hips into the wall, shaking his head from side to side. Dean saw the front of Sam’s pants tented out, springy, slim erection giving the lie to his words.

“I know you only act out like this because you want me to punish you. It’s okay, Sammy, you don’t have to admit it,” Dean murmured into Sam’s ear, not letting up with the belt. “You need boundaries. I’ve showed you before and I’ll keep on showing you where your limits are.”

A couple more lashes with the belt were all it took. Sam shook all over and dropped to his knees, head bent against Dean's knee, and sobbed out, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Thank you for bringing dinner, for working, for being here. I'm so so sorry,” and Dean dropped the belt, hearing it clank on the floor buckle-first. He laced his fingers into Sam's sweaty hair.

“It's alright, Sammy. It's okay.”

Then Sam was nuzzling up Dean's thigh, whimpering, “Please. Let me?” looking up at Dean with tear-spangled eyes. Dean closed his eyes and clenched the hand tangled in Sam's hair.

“Go ahead,” he rasped. Then he was the one hissing through his teeth as Sam fumbled his zipper open and pulled out his achingly hard dick. Sam closed his mouth around the head, licking clumsily at the tip, frantically swallowing Dean down.

“Slow, slow,” Dean whispered, and Sam slackened his pace. Dean was still too big for Sam to take him in his mouth all at once, so he licked up the sides and top with long strokes, holding the base firmly in his hand.

“God, yes, Sammy --” Dean held Sam's head by the hair and fucked his mouth shallowly. Sam swirled his tongue around the head, tongue darting in and out of the slit. Once he started humming it was all over for Dean. He gritted his teeth, strangling a groan, and came into Sam’s mouth.

Sam swallowed and licked him clean, then put Dean back into his pants. He stood up stiffly, and Dean pulled him close. Sam rested his head on Dean's shoulder.

“Think we can eat our dinner now?” Dean asked. Sam nodded mutely, lifting up his face. Dean kissed him briefly, then led him back over to the table, his legs shaking slightly. Sam winced as he sat back down.

“If you eat everything I brought you, I'll let you jerk off when we go to bed,” Dean promised. Sam nodded again, this time more swiftly, and reassembled his sandwich, eating it with gusto.

Dean took another long-awaited bite of his own dinner, following it with a swallow of beer. He didn’t know why Sammy made him jump through the hoops he did, but if it bought a few days of peace in the house, Dean would do it. He felt like he’d definitely earned it tonight.
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Spare the Rod