Title: Show Him
Author: shink_fic
Disclaimer: I lie
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 800
Genre/ Pairing: Dean/Alistair pwp
Spoilers: No
Warnings: Dubcon, torture, nasty hell things, oh, and John's watching
Summary: For the supernatural kinkmeme; alastair/dean, dean's the apt pupil and alastair gets off on watching dean torture souls, john's soul shows up on the rack (john never got out of hell).

***

It isn't until he gets to watch Dean slowly peel a young woman's soul apart that Alistair realizes just how much he enjoys it.
   
Dean had started with the knife, working it through her skin in short jerks and smooth motions, but has abandoned it in favor of his fingernails, which have grown out to jagged lengths to help him with his job as he pulls her insides to her outsides.
   
She's stopped screaming, shame, the pain too much to actually comprehend, and a good torturer would remedy that with a bit of creative knifework, but it's Dean's first time standing on this side of the rack, so Alistair won't point it out until later.
   
Dean's crying. His eyes won't shut, thanks to a favor Alistair called in specifically for this, and his ears can't block out the sounds, and he definitely can't stop, unless he wants to take her place. If Alistair was in a meatsuit, he might just be smiling.
   
Instead he takes a shape that Dean can recognize, the shape of his little brother Sam, who sent him here in the first place.
   
"Very good, Dean," he says lazily, eyes half lidded and grin in place. Dean glances over at him, flinching visibly, then turns back to his soul. She's mostly gone at this point, too shredded to know what's happening to her, and Alistair can either fix her up or get Dean a fresh pair of lungs to scream for him.
   
The rack shifts, drawing the soul back from the tip of Dean's knife and dragging her away. Dean drops to his knees in front of where she was, the knife loose in his hand.
   
Until the rack pulls back in front of him with a bloody John Winchester strapped to it. Papa Winchester's whole, all his parts still attached, it's obviously his first round of the day though he's caked and sticky with dried blood.
   
"Dean?" he asks shakily, lifting his head from his chest just enough to see his son. He's tied to the rack with his feet and arms apart, where he's within easy access of anyone who cares to try anything.
   
Dean looks at Alistair, his eyes shaky and desperate, almost feral, at even the thought of taking the knife to John.
   
"Do it," Alistair commands in Sam's voice. Dean stands shakily, his grip on the knife tightening in a way that reminds Alistair of a baby bird taking flight. John is silent as Dean sets the tip of the knife against his collarbone.
   
"Dad," Dean says. Alistair rolls his eyes.
   
"None of that, now," he says getting up and walking over to Dean, wrapping his arms around the hunter's shoulders. Sam's body is huge compared to Dean's starved frame, covering him almost entirely. Alistair's hand goes to Dean's wrist, wrapping Sam's long fingers over Dean's hand and putting the slightest amount of pressure on the knife.
   
The tip goes through fabric and skin, a drop of blood soaks into John's shirt, indistinguishable from the rest.
   
"Remember it Dean," Alistair whispers, turning his head slightly, Sam's lips pressed against Dean's ear. "Remember all the shit he put you through? How he bossed you around? Remember that." While he's speaking, Alistair drags Dean's hand, still holding the knife, in a downwards stroke, cutting John's shirt open with a matching red line on the skin underneath.
   
Dean is shaking with something, probably fear or shame. Alistair is shaking, holding back the desire to fuck his student raw while the father watches. John is still, holding Dean's gaze and not uttering a word.
   
"Do you remember, Dean?"
   
Alistair's hand slowly moves down to Dean's crotch, fingers brushing over the beginnings of an erection. Dean whimpers.
   
Alistair stares directly into John's eyes as he wraps a hand around Dean's cock, stoking Dean and pushing the knife into John in the same movement. Alistair's stone hard as he fists Dean's cock, twisting the knife in rhythm with his strokes. Up, twist, down, twist. Dean's panting, unable to look away from John, and Alistair grins at Papa Winchester, making Sam's eyes go black as he jerks off Dean.
   
"Why don't you show him who bosses you around now, Dean?" Alistair whispers, "come for me."
   
Dean comes over Alistair's fist with a scream, and Alistair lets go of Dean's hand, wrapping the arm around Dean's waist to hold him up through the aftershocks. He's still hard himself, but they'll take care of that later.
   
Dean steadies, legs gaining strength and leans forward, touching Alistair only by the arm. John's gaze finally shifts back to his son as they wait for the result.
   
"Fuck you," Dean says softly. Alistair thinks that he miscalculated for a half second before Dean plunges the knife into John's chest, right under his heart.

***