Hair still damp from the shower, too warm for a shirt, Sam finally found Rowan in the workshop, packing rosemary salt rounds to replenish their supply. Dean was nursing a bottle of hunter's helper; the argument still weighed heavily on them all. The prickliness of their situation, the three of them together, made for serious emotional land mines. All had their doubts; all dealt with them in very different ways. Dean drank and watched bad television. Rowan worked and baked. Sam ran for hours and killed monsters.
The workshop still impressed Sam. The first time he'd seen the room, with a captured demon in tow, both he and Dean had been surprised; a silver inlay devil's trap, steel worktables, seemingly endless storage for a variety of weapons and supplies – the basement was a hunter's tricked-out dream complete with an industrial hoist strong enough to lift an engine out of a car, much less hold a vamp or demon. Rowan was currently perched on one of the stools, a long line of shells neatly organized in front of her. Sam took a moment to notice that her dark hair was getting longer, curling almost down to her mid-back, pulled loosely into yet another random tie – he found it endearing that she used anything she could get her hands on to deal with the riot that was her hair. In her tank and jean shorts, she should have been cold in the stone-walled room, but the temperature was pleasantly neither cold nor hot; exactly how she kept the cold of winter from slipping through the mortar Sam didn't know, but he appreciated it.
"Dean's watching some terrible made-for-tv movie about sharks off the Jersey shore," he said as an opening line, unsure of Ro's mood.
"Yeah, there's a shark attack marathon on Syfy today. He started about a fifth of Jack ago." She turned to face him, eyes meeting his, annoyance still evident. "Look, I know it's your business, but you shouldn't push him so much. He'll deal with it when he's ready and until then, he'll brood."
"It's been long enough. I swear he still doesn't trust me. And it's not fair to you." He hooked a stool, pulled it out beside her, and sat down.
"Sorry, Sam, but I'm with Dean on this one. You can't make him talk to you. He loves you, you have to know that. Quit being so bossy." She brushed her hands together to dust off any remaining salt then rose and washed them with soap in the utility sink.
"Bossy?" Sam asked, incredulous.
"Yeah, bossy. I keep telling Dean that you are a control-freak." Moving to Sam, she reached for his hands, pulling him off the stool.
"I am not. Good God, Dean's been telling me what to do our whole lives."
"Sam, you are the dominant in this relationship, right? Even if you're not on top, you're picking who's where. You started it with Dean …." Sam sputtered, trying to interrupt, to explain about being soulless and so not in control, but she kept talking, running over the old well-worn discussion "… and you know how many doubts he has about it all. Let it go for once. If you can." She backed out into the room, tugging Sam with her, stopping in the center of the circle.
"Look, I think you have me mistaken for someone upstairs. I'm the sensitive little brother," Sam protested, half-heartedly, as he thought about her words. It was true that he was, well, aggressive sometimes in bed, but he certainly let both Dean and Ro have their own ways and God knew there was enough pleasure for all of them. And if he needed to talk about Dean's reluctance to say the words Sam needed to hear, well, damn it, he should be able to mention it without everyone flying off the handle.
"You willing to prove that?" Ro asked, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
He felt the cold metal snap around his left wrist seconds before the handcuffs closed around his right. Startled, he heard the rattle of the chain as she locked the cuffs in place. They weren't tight enough to rub, but he felt the strain as Ro engaged the hoist, lifting his hands above his head, leaving elbows bent and feet firmly on the floor.
"Let someone else take control for once," Rowan said, circling him to make sure he was okay, not in any physical pain. She stepped up behind him, lifting up on her toes to whisper in his ear. "Don't talk. Don't act. Don't think. Don't do anything but feel. Can you manage that?"
A sudden heat began to settle in his groin, the first stirrings as he began to realize what she might have planned. He took a deep breath as he felt her brush against him, her breasts lightly grazing his bare back through the soft cotton of her tank, a finger trailing just above his low-slung jeans. His mouth went dry as she grazed his skin again. Flattening both hands, she ran them up Sam's back, lining the muscles with her fingers, occasionally dropping a kiss as she went. She kissed the back of his ear on her tiptoes, then sank back down and let her hands glide back to his hips, pressing her thumbs into the indentions just above his ass, fingers resting on his hip bones in the front.
"I can do that," he answered, already breathy from her light caress. "No problem."
The slap startled him, as she used her open hand on the small of his back, leaving a sharp sting and forcing an involuntary groan from his lips. She circled around in front of him.
"I said, don't talk." Hands curling into his hair, she yanked his mouth down to hers for a hungry kiss, tangling her tongue with his, and then breaking off. Sam rattled the chains as he tried to reach for her to drag her back, to kiss her again. "You've got to learn to let go. Don't worry, I promise you'll enjoy it." Sam was literally left hanging, the taste of Ro still in his mouth and a growing ache in his cock. Tracing his tattoo, she teased his nipples until they were hard, first with her fingers then her tongue. Straining to move closer, Sam arched his back, thrusting his hips forward, begging without words for more.
"That's better," she murmured, lips moving against his chest, sending out ripples of desire, driving him crazy. Popping open the button of his jeans, she laughed lightly when she realized he wasn't wearing any underwear; he groaned when her hand stroked his swollen shaft, freeing him as she pushed down his pants before she gave him a sensual grin and turned to the stairs.
"Dean?" Ro called up to the first floor. "Dean! I need you down here."
Sam's heart stuttered at the thought of Dean coming down and seeing him like this, part of him embarrassed, part of him turned on in a way he never had been before. He pulled at the handcuffs, tried to turn away. "Ro, what are you doing?"
In two steps, she was kissing him again, sinking her teeth into bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood. With deliberation, she licked it off, stroking Sam's jaw with her thumb. "I think I told you not to talk. Don't make me get my paddle." And didn't that image make Sam's cock jump; she hummed with pleasure at his reaction, running her hands around his waist to grab him. "God, I do love your ass, Sam Winchester. Don't think I won't hesitate to spank it." Sam almost came as he imagined Rowan's hands … or Dean's … damn, he suddenly couldn't breathe.
Dean clattered down the stairs, drink still in hand. "Hey, Joey Fatone just got eaten by a shark, man. What's so important that you need …" He stopped, eyes widening as he took in the scene.
"It was time for a lesson in how to give up control," Rowan said to Dean, stepping around behind Sam, keeping her hands on him the whole time. "You want to help?"
Dean remained unmoving, clearly deciding how to react, following Ro's hands with his eyes as she knelt down, taking off Sam's jeans and tossing them in a corner. He couldn't stop staring at Sam's rampant cock, hearing his groans with each new touch. "Fuck it," he muttered, setting the glass down on a table as he came down what was left of the stairs. Pulling his t-shirt off, he caught Ro's hand as she started to stroke Sam, yanking her out from behind and putting her between them. He grabbed the hem of her tank and tugged it over her head, pushing her back until Ro bumped Sam's chest, both of them groaning as Sam took the chance to grind himself against her ass. Dean's hands settled first on Sam's waist, trapping Ro between them as he swooped down to her lips for a kiss, pressing her head back into Sam. She tasted like Sam and Dean tasted of whiskey as she kissed him back; Dean grabbed Sam's ass, sandwiching Rowan tightly between them and she moaned into his mouth as Dean's tongue swept in and made her his own.
"Dean," Sam practically begged, erection pressed into Rowan's back. Wiggling her hips, Ro made both men curse. Unhooking her bra, Dean cupped her breast with his hands, rubbing his thumbs over her already tight nipples. Her head fell back onto Sam's shoulder when Dean dipped down mouth closing over the sensitive tip, sucking it in, swirling his tongue. She shivered, moving her hips wantonly now, tilting her face up to Sam, giving him access to plunder with his lips and tongue, hot kisses that only fed the raging need building between them.
"Off, off, off," she mumbled as she pushed at Dean's jeans, fumbling with the button in her haste. Together, they took off their remaining clothes in a rush. Flipping Rowan around, Dean helped her wrap her leg around Sam's waist, his fingers gliding to the her heat, parting her to stroke her clit, leaving her open as Sam's cock rubbed against her and Dean's hand moved between the two, encircling Sam for a few seconds, then back to teasing Ro.
"Damn, you're so wet." Dean slid a finger into Ro and she cried out, burying her face in Sam's shoulder, arms twined around Sam's shoulders to keep herself up. "Do you have…"
"The drawer on the workbench," she gasped out. Dean patted her ass, gave Sam a quick squeeze and stepped over to the bench, taking the tube and smearing his hands liberally. Rowan held out her hand, and Dean obliged before he tossed the tube away and came back to where Sam hung from the ceiling.
"So, Sammy," he growled as he came up behind him. "This kinky enough for you?" He ran a slick finger between the clefts of Sam's ass, circling the tight hole before he pressed inside. Sam bent his head back, calling Dean's name, then Ro's, as Dean's finger circled and shifted inside him. Ro changed her position, pressing up against Dean's naked back, circling his shaft with her hands, covering him with lubricant as she slid back and forth. "God, Ro," he breathed, almost losing his concentration. "She's so hot Sammy," he said as he added a second finger, pressing harder into Sam as Ro's hand tightened, slippery fingers tracing the head and the slit when she would pause near the end.
"Fuck," Sam cursed. "I'm not going to make it … I need…" Ro reached past Dean and slapped Sam, hard, on the ass, a red hand print appearing. Sam shouted, jerking his body in response, almost coming right then.
"I said I'd spank you if you talked again," Ro said. Joining her hand with Dean's, she added her finger with Deans', and Sam lost all ability to do more than moan as together they split him apart.
"Ro," Dean ground out, pulling both their hands away and moving up behind Sam, spreading his legs and positioning himself. "I need … God, Ro ….fuck him for me." Pushing past the tight muscle, Dean sheathed himself into Sam, slowly at first, but steady until he was snug against his brother's back, so deep inside he could feel every quiver. He held himself there, straining against his need to claim Sam, waiting on Rowan as she put Sam between them, burying her hands in Sam's hair. As she lifted her first one leg then the other to wrap around them, Dean help hoist her up, holding her thighs as she clenched them, guiding herself down onto Sam, until he was deep inside her, filling her completely. As Dean felt her muscles move, he moved, thrusting and retreating as Rowan lifted and sank back down. Sam was too far gone to last long and soon he cried out, stiffening as he came, the sensation of Ro and Dean's simultaneous assault too much for him. Ro could feel the warmth as Sam thrust hard, emptying himself into her, so she let herself go, shattering into pieces as her climax took her, legs sliding down to rest on the ground as she leaned against Sam, barely hanging on. Sam's orgasm clenching around him, Dean plunged twice more before he peaked, pouring into Sam, resting his head on Sam's back and catching Ro's waist with his hands to keep her upright.
"Um, guys. I hate to be the one to break this up, but you wouldn't mind opening the cuffs now?" Sam asked after a few minutes, chest heaving as he tried to drag in air. With a laugh, Rowan took a shaky step backwards.
"Only if you've learned your lesson," she said, lowering the chain until Sam's hands were low enough for her to reach. Pressing the latch, she popped the cuffs open, dropping them to the floor as Sam rubbed his wrists. "I reserve the right to spank you if get bossy again." Sam's look in reply was scorching and Dean chuckled, stepping aside as he eyed Rowan, who flushed red in her cheeks. He knew his brother well and, damn, Ro had it coming, considering she'd given him no warning of her little 'chain him up' plan.
Darting out a hand, Sam caught Rowan's wrist, tugged her towards him, ducking his shoulder down and scooping her up, ass over his shoulder, hair hanging down.
"Sam!" she complained, struggling in his grip. "Dean, stop your brother."
"Hell, no." Dean fell into step behind Sam as he carried Ro up the stairs. "I love a good spanking and you, my lovely little manipulator, started this. Blame yourself."
"I'm thinking the bed?" Sam asked Dean. "Or you think the kitchen table?"
"I know where she keeps some scarves," Dean offered. "And the bed has posts."