Author: Borgmama1of5
Spoilers: None
Season: Could be anytime, probably earlier tho
Warning: Bad words and sex, not too graphic. Is it wincest? I have no idea, and I wrote it.
Beta: Thanks to sandymg!

MENAGE A TROIS

Dean's hands were tied to the brass headboard. He was naked. And the tongue forcing itself into his mouth was his.

***

A few hours earlier…

It was just creepy.

Bunch of dead guys, one every full moon, but not a werewolf, the bodies didn't have a mark on 'em. Nothing wrong with them at all, except they were dead. And naked. And, the creepy part they'd found out by visiting the morgue -- all of them had sex right before dying. Medical examiner was writing it off as heart attacks.

The dead dudes were all under 35. Freakin' epidemic of drop-dead sex. Yeah.

As for what it was, Sam offered a couple guesses, succubus top on the list. Or a witch, or a demon, or hell, could even be a ghost. Sam thought he had at least figured out the starting point of the action.

Yuppie bar, he labeled it.

Dean didn't really care that he stood out like the proverbial sore thumb, figured he might get the info they were looking for faster if somebody wanted to get him out of there. Sam was going native. Dean looked at his brother's khaki slacks and black button-down and said, "Dude, I don't even wanna know why you have those clothes."

That got him the bitchface.

Place didn't even have a decent beer and it cost twice as much as it should of. And the music? Puh-leeze. Although the girls were all lookers. Their dresses were short and tight and low-cut. He was getting some interested glances, too. Might as well collect a number or two while he was here … you never know…

Spiky blonde hair on a cute little five-foot tall number slid up to the bar next to him.

Well, five-foot tall plus five inch stripper-bar heels.

"Jake, I'll have another." As the bartender nodded to her, Dean caught her eye and winked. "My treat." Cool dark eyes, sultry smile, and amazing cleavage.

"I'd say 'come here often?' but I know I've never seen you in here before. I'd remember that coat." Her chin indicated his battle-scarred leather jacket.

Jake handed the girl her drink, Dean gave him a couple bills. "Not my normal haunt." Did her eyes narrow the tiniest bit at his choice of words? "Heard this place has a lot of action."

Dean was used to being on the receiving end of an appreciative once-over. But the satisfied look that accompanied her gaze felt decidedly predatory. Ha, his Spidey-sense was tingling. She tipped back her glass, set it back on the bar, and took his hand. "You have nice fingers." She traced his lifeline with one sharp shiny pink nail.

Dean figured his brother had him in view. He knew Sam had his back … it would take both of them to take out a succubus. He had holy water, iron knife, and silver bullets in his gun, for anything else it might be, and Sam had reckoned that covered all likely possibilities. So Dean stayed focused on the tantalizing creature before him.

Dean bent down to hear what she was saying. "…stairs with me?" She rubbed purposefully against his thigh and the pink fingernail pressed a little harder on his palm. Hard enough to draw a tiny drop of blood. Oh yes. She locked her fingers with his and tugged, and he followed her to a shadowed corner. There was a key on the chain around her neck, which she smoothly slid over her head to unlock a partially hidden door. Dean was pretty sure it was unnoticeable from the rest of the bar and he hoped again that Sam was watching where the blonde was taking him. On the other hand, he had a hard-on and maybe she was just a hot chick. Wouldn't be the first time he was found irresistible

A single low-watt light bulb illuminated the shabby stairwell. The girl was still holding his right hand as she pushed open the door at the bottom. Alarm bells went off in his head at the sight of a four-poster plushly made-up bed in the middle of a dank basement room. The floor around the bed was painted with symbols and beside it a table an altar flickered with candles. Shit.

"Maneo!"

Dean couldn't move. The sultry smile turned ugly as she let go of his hand. "Another prick who thinks he's god's gift to women." She paused with a look of eerie anticipation, "Well, you will be…"

Under other circumstances Dean would have appreciated the show as she stripped naked. Instead he was urgently trying to figure what exactly she was. The marks on the floor and the Latin were telling him witch … He hated witches. And he didn't understand her game …

She'd gotten something from the altar and was back standing before him. With an abrupt move she unbuttoned and pulled down his jeans. Her touch burned as she slid her fingers around him. Uh.

"I promise the foreplay'd be better if I could reciprocate …"

She actually giggled. "Believe me, you're gonna give me everything I want." She began chanting. Dean knew this was not going anywhere good.

Goddamn, where was Sam?

From the intensity of her chant the bitch was getting to the climax … bad choice of words, smirked a corner of Dean's mind. Suddenly there was a knife in her free hand and oh my fucking god she brought the blade toward his groin. HE COULDN'T MOVE! She was aiming straight for his package and damn! she made a shallow cut through his pubic hair then slashed her own palm and smeared her hand with his blood and the door burst open …

They'd been standing right in front of the entrance and Dean was knocked sideways but the girl twisted away with her knife hand up, still chanting, slashing at Sam. Dean saw blood on Sam's arm, watched Sam try to get the knife from her as she was leaving bloody handprints on his brother, and she never stopped her words.

"Transtuli!"

Everything went black.

***

His own face was leering down at him. His hands were on his … boobs?! Hunter's instincts, long honed to adapt quickly to changes in circumstances, couldn't process this: him, naked looming above him naked and … female? With a tiny bit of hysteria Dean thought, so this is how you go fuck yourself.

Male him was certainly doing all the right moves and female him was fuckin' reacting … His hands, no they weren't his hands right now, were pinching his … her? nipples and it stung and it simultaneously made this body squirm. Where the hell was Sam? Dean tugged against the cloth binding his wrists to the brass posts, trying to see where his brother was. If he was hurt … she'd had the knife … But he could see Sam standing on the other side of the footboard. He was not moving, just staring as he watched Dean fuck. Only Sam wouldn't know that Dean was currently the fuckee, not the fucker.

A tremor ran down his legs as the bitch … that wasn't him, was not him put her fingers down there and rubbed. Guh … sensory overload stopped his thoughts momentarily. This is what it felt like … When he could think again he should be taking notes crossed his mind. 'On top' him laughed and, straddling the slender hips of the female body, bent down and teased his tongue into 'her' mouth again.

What was wrong with Sam? Dean struggled but there was nothing this petite body could do against his own strength. And this body didn't necessarily want to fight what it was feeling. 'He' was in 'him' now Oh my God so that's what it feels like and there was nothing he could do but react as his nervous system exploded. She 'him' was coming. He 'him' was coming, too, Dean knew the growl coming from that throat intimately. Everything was fusing into one unbearable pulse and so this is how those other guys died flashed through his mind and as Dean was passing out for the last time he saw Sam jump from the foot of the bed … and everything went black again.

***

"Dean. Dean." Someone — Sam — was pulling on his arm. "C'mon, we gotta get out of here. Dean!"

He wanted to go back to the nice friendly black and then his mind clicked and Dean's eyes flew open and thank god he had all his man parts.

"C'mon, Dean!" Sam shoved clothes at him. Dean's thoughts were trying to form coherence out of the viscous sludge in his brain but it wasn't working so he simply fumbled himself back into the clothes he didn't remember removing.

The witch…

"Where is she?" His lips felt thick like he'd been passionately kissing and not going there right now

"She, um, got wasted when I trashed the altar at the ... climax," Sam stumbled over the word. Sam nodded toward the bed. The naked remains bore no resemblance to the chick who'd lured Dean there. "We've gotta go."

"The body…"

"We can come back and do a salt-and-burn tomorrow when the bar's closed. I'm pretty sure this was her private space."

Sam sounded … strained. Dean actually looked at his brother and registered Sam's hunched shoulders and the blood on his arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Like Sam'd say otherwise. Dean would ask again when they got back to the room and get a straight answer. No one noticed them return to the bar from the hidden door and they cut out the back entrance, although Sam was still moving awkwardly and Dean's legs, actually all of him, felt rather rubbery. Dean slid gratefully into the normalcy of the Impala.

He sat in the driver's seat without turning the ignition. Buying time to get his shaking hands under control, he asked, without turning, "What the hell happened, Sam?"

"She was using a spell to transfer life force during sex, switching bodies so hers would get all the energy. Power thing. Kills the guy, though."

"Huh." New meaning to 'killer sex.' Flashback to the moment right before … Dean looked at Sam. "Why were you just waiting there?"

Sam looked away uneasily. "I was caught in the backlash of the spell. It wasn't meant to involve three people."

"No ménage a trois." Dean snorted. "Her magic, you said it swapped bodies, so you know that 'me' wasn't me, right, Sam?"

Sam curled himself into a tight ball in the shotgun seat. "That's why I couldn't move till the … end … when the spell pulled her back into her own body. During everything … she was partly in your body and partly in mine."

Then he added very quietly, "And so was I."