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Drunken Round Robin!

Tugging at the edges of the blindfold with his teeth, Alec growls at the closing door. The bolt slides home just as he pulls the offending cloth free.

Behind him, someone coughs and Alec whirls around sharply in surprise. The room spins violently around him, his brain colliding head on with the drugs the SOBs pumped him full of down in the intake room. He clings to the wall and tries to hold on to his lunch.

When the swirling finally clears, the sloppy shadow in front of him resolves into the form of a man. A really built, tall man. Tall as in he’s got to look up to see the guy’s face, and he's not used to that. He finds it concerned and confused when he does, bright eyes hunting his own in a too-familiar search for a clue.

Too bad, because Alec’s got nothing.

The guy sticks his hand out, and Alec accepts the offer warily, tossing, “I’m Alec,” out into the dim cell.

“Sam,” the guy responds, sizing Alec up with for a moment before adding, “Winchester. You got any idea why we’re here?”

Alec starts to laugh, but his brain chooses that moment to offer up an idea and he starts to choke instead. His airway isn't really clear, but he glares at the ceiling and growls out, "Probably because someone's got a fucked up idea of what breeding partners means," into the room.

----

SO, WHO'S NEXT?

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Sam's eyebrows quirk up as he scans Alec up and down. Sly with amusement, lips twitching, he asks, "Something you need to tell me?"

Barking a startled laugh, Alec settles back against the wall and assesses Sam as more than a Manticore plant.

It's not a bad view.

He's regretting that it's got to be a gag when a tinny version of a familiar voice echoes over the PA. "Ok, boys. You know the drill. It's time to get busy."

Sam's eyebrow shoots up so high, Alec worries about it hitting the ceiling.

Alec lunges forward, catching Sam's arms in his hands and spinning him around to slam him face first into the opposite wall. The guy's strong and he's been trained, but he's no X5.

What the fuck?

He can feel the pinned man suck in a harsh breath, tension slowly tightening his muscles, and there's enough of a pause that Alec knows the reaction is not due to his surprise at being pinned.

"Dean?" The word is wrenched from the man's throat, echoing pain.

"Sure I'll be Dean, if that's what you like." The hand holding Sam's arm wrenches it higher, pain spiking through his shoulder. What the fuck? Hot breath hits the back of his neck. Sam smells the sweat and underneath, where he's expecting Dean, it's not. Not Dean.

Sam pulls hard, adrenaline surge and his heart's pumping boom-thump solid against his sternum. Sam can't break the hold and now the guys hips are tight against his ass; whoever, whatever, has Sam, it isn't Dean.

"Who the fuck are you? Where's Dean?"

"Thought you wanted me to be Dean, but I can be anybody you want me to be."

The edge of fear in the guy's voice gives him pause, but not for long. Alec might not like the situation, but he knows by now when to fight and when to give in, and this? They're not getting out of here until they do what they're told. The guy - Sam - is clearly new to this game but there's enough of a slur in his voice and enough heat coming off his body that Alec is confident that his protestations aren't going to last long.

Alec pushes his face in close, lets his breath and his jaw rasp against Sam's face, murmurs, "Doesn't matter who I am, not really, and it doesn't matter who you are either." He has enough leverage that one of his hands is free to skim down the long body he's got pinned, his fingers skating beneath the waistband to stroke the skin alongside the erection Sam's squirming to try and hide.

Sam pulls against the grip on his arms and mutters grimly, "Christo."

Alec grins a little. "People usually wait until the action's started to start assigning me deity status."

"In odorem suavitatis. Tu autem effugare, diabole; appropinquabit enim judicium Dei."

"You having some sort of seizure there?" Alec pulls back a little to look up at the body he's pinning to the wall.

Sam's staring down at him, brow creased in confusion. "You're very strong."

"You blow hot and cold, don't you? This your version of a pick-up?"

Sam makes yet another move to break the pin, and Alec lets him. Not like there's anywhere for gigantor to go anyway. Sam spins away, landing in a defensive crouch as far away from Alec as the cell allows.

The voice comes back, lower than it was and much more menacing, "Times a-wasting. You don't want us to have to force the matter. You have your orders, soldiers."

Alec yells out, "Oh, come on!" at the same time as Sam's eyes lock on Alec's, bleeding fear.

"What the hell is going on here? You look just like my brother, Dean, but you aren't him. Who the hell are you, and how did I get here?"

Alec hates this part, explaining to some newb, like there is any explaining the crazy that is Manticore. Instead Alec tips his head, opens his eyes wide and bites his bottom lip.

Sam's pupils swallow his irises and the tension eases from his muscles. Sam's posture doesn't change, but Alec's an expert at this by now and Sam isn't half as scared as the girl last month.

"I get that you want answers," Alec says. His voice is low, even, placating his fellow victim. Moving slow and easy, he tugs off his shirt, pleased when Sam's eyes flicker over the exposed skin. Alec nods his head towards the door to the cell, the cameras mounted in the corners. "But you're asking the wrong person, and somehow, I don't think the people out there are interested in a chat... at least not until they get what they want."

Sam watches Alec’s hands as they linger on the button fly of his jeans. He stutters, “They can’t mean for us to…” huge hands gesture inexplicitly. Alec’s gesture more specifically, more explicitly. A blush creeps up Sam’s neck, coloring his face in a heated rush.

“Yeah, they can.” Alec takes a step, closing the distance between them. “They are.”

Sam pushes him back, shoving Alec against the wall. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but this…” He’s holding Alec up, pressing firmly against his Alec’s throat, and Alec lets him, leans in to it even. “This…” Alec’s body goes limp against Sam and Sam gulps in some air. This isn’t going to happen.”

“Yeah,” Alec husks, mouth against Sam’s neck. “It is, whether we want it to or not.” He cups Sam’s obvious interest through blue denim. “It’s more fun if we play along.”

Sam shakes his head in empty denial, as if his pretense of resistance can overcome the obvious interest of his cock as it throbs in a too-familiar hand. He's got Alec held tight, knows he ought to feel in control of this situation but he's never felt this close to losing everything. Alec's pulse stutters beneath his hand, jackrabbit beats that make him all too aware of the arousal thrumming there. He's felt the strength this man - whoever he is - is capable of, and Sam knows any advantage he has is being given to him.

This isn't Dean. Dean doesn't lick his lips in invitation, doesn't put on submission like an old coat, gazing up through lowered lashes like he's a little bit scared of Sam, but a little excited by it. Sam can't read this body, can't translate the unexpectedly foreign person within a form he knows as well (maybe better) than his own. Alec's hand is growing more confident, his hold giving way to stroking, those sinful lips twisting into a smirk that he knows all too well. Sam can't see that, not with that hand working him so expertly, just... can't. Alec's mouth is lush beneath his, opening immediately so that he can close his eyes and lose himself in a heat he tells himself he's never imagined.

Taste floods his mouth and Sam is awash in sensation, lost in the memory of what never was. Sam chases the doppelganger’s tongue with his own, suddenly desperate to consume everything he can find, lost in the rush of what can never be.

Grief tears suddenly at Sam’s gut, ripping through him, collapsing him, breathless, against this… this… total stranger now holding him up. He ruthlessly pushes down the sob trying to escape him.

Dean. Five years gone – a fucking apocalypse between them – and it can still knock the breath right out of him and lay him flat in a second. He draws in a shaky breath.

“Hey.” Gentle hands tilt his head back up. “Where’d you go?” They’ve got his face, cupping it gently, fitting to his skin like they were made for it. Grounding and achingly familiar.

Sam can’t help it; he leans in close. Lips a bare millimeter away from the open ones before him, he stops and breathes in deep, sucking in their shared air. The body against him squirms, lithe muscles shifting beneath skin and he’s hard again instantly. Memory, both imagined and real, teases at his senses and an undeniable heat surges through him.

Groaning, Sam captures the stranger’s mouth with his own, desperate and so, so lost.

The man moans into his mouth, and the sound resonates in Sam, and he hasn't felt this close to Dean in so long, but still, he knows, Dean would never moan for him, not like this. He would never moan so needy, and he would never moan first.

But Sam tells himself that it's not Dean as he runs his hands up and down the man's body, and it's true: he arches into Sam's touch, mewls "Keep doing that Sam, please don't stop, Sam," and he looks like he's going weak at the knees. An act, Sam thinks, but a good one. One that is working on him, one that is making him want to rip the man's clothes off and give himself the perfect, horrifying, delicious image of a naked, begging Dean, and Sam isn't sure if this is the best or the worst idea he's ever had. And to be Sam Winchester's worst idea, well, that's saying a lot. But the man keeps cooing, moaning, writhing as if Sam's touch were all he ever needed, as if nothing Sam could do could ever disappoint him, and Sam lunges at him again, less gentle, more needy, and it's so good, so very very good. And the man keeps moaning, keeps pleading whenever he came up for breath, until he says, "That's so good, Sam. Sam, I need you so bad. Please, Sam. Come on Sammy, please."

At the word "Sammy," Sam pulled away violently. He looked crazed, like a wild beast, with shining eyes and sweat beading on his face and torso.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

Alec shakes his head, trying to bleed off some of the lust suddenly overwhelming him. Fuck Manticore and their fucking needles!

Sam’s staring at him like he’s ready to rip Alec’s head off and Alec can’t for the life of him figure they why. They’re both panting, bare chest’s heaving almost in time, and Alec can’t tear his eyes away from the guy’s adam’s apple when he swallows. Alec tries to close the distance between them, but Sam holds him off with one hand, pressing the other into his forehead like it he hurts.

What the fuck? Did the bastards only drug one of them? Of all the cruel, vindictive things…

The words, when they come, are like ice, “No one gets to call me that. Especially not you.”

Alec licks his lips and tries to drag his focus up to Sam's eyes. He isn't entirely successful, but successful enough to fake it, maybe. "I'm not... I don't have any idea who you are. I won't call you anything you don't want. It's no skin off my nose."

Sam searches his face again, looking for that indefinable something but still not finding it.

Alec catches an unwelcome glimpse of the dreaded near-miss-with-thoughtless-sex expression crossing Sam's face. Alec slides around Sam's restraining hand and shifted forward to bite that adam's apple. Breathing hot against Sam's throat, Alec presses in, body to body, and sweeps his tongue up, along jaw and into Sam's ear. Breathily, hoping for a shiver, Alec whispers, "I don't know what part you play in this fucking game, but I've been trapped in it my whole life."

Sam takes in a shuddering breath and pushes Alec roughly back. Alec lets it happen, even though he can feel the drugs clawing for his attention once more. "What? What game are you talking about? Who are you and where the hell are we?"

"Look," Alec says lowly, moving back in to hover predatorily over Sam's body, "all you gotta do is let me make you feel good, and I guarantee I can make you feel good - and they'll let you go. You've got the easy part. Now shut up and let me take care of you."

He lets his hand touch down lightly on Sam's annoyingly-still-cloth-covered dick. Pressing in his thumb nail, he scraps it down persistently hard flesh, making the body under him tremble.

Sam jerks like Alec’s touch is electrified, throwing his head back and gulping for air. It’s been so long since anyone’s touched him with something other than violence, but this? Never like this. Dean was everything, but he never would have… never would have wanted… and Sam never would have asked. Never even admitted it even to himself.

Now he can’t deny it. Now, after so long without Dean’s hand on his shoulder, without Dean’s soft snoring in the sleeping bag next to him, without Dean’s breathing as they drive through the inky blackness of night… Now… now, when he’d take anything, any whisper, any touch… Now his body can’t hide at all, not from something so close, even if it’s so very wrong…

Alec pops the top button and slides his hand inside, skin cool against Sam’s straining dick. Sam shudders and collapses back against the wall, unable to stand on his own any longer. His head thunks against the concrete and the pain’s good, grounding – it reminds him to breathe. Alec twists his hand, pressing the back of it into Sam and popping the rest of the buttons with his nimble fingers.

He yanks Sam’s jeans down a few inches, checking Sam’s sudden swaying with strong hands on Sam’s hips, leveraging the grip into a boneless slide down to his knees. Sam watches him move, unable to look away; their eyes lock for a long second before Alec grins up at him and Sam has to shut his eyes.

Sam’s head cracks against the wall again as Alec swallows him down.

<------

Alec's mouth is searing, fever-hot and so wet that those pretty lips are slick after just a couple of strokes. Sam can't keep his eyes shut, not with the sound of Dean moaning filling his ears, has to watch. He doesn't even know anymore if it's to catch the differences between them or to drink up the sight. This is so wrong that there just aren't words, so wrong that Sam doesn't know if he's ever gonna find normal again. It's good, too good, and he wonders how much of that is Alec's experience and how much is the genuine greed with which he's swallowing Sam's cock, his eyes hazy and blissed out. The pupils are all wrong, and with the strange strength and the cameras and mysterious captors, Sam can't help but wonder what he's dealing with - if Alec has been drugged or magicked or something else. He wonders if this is an illusion, if they somehow made someone into an image they knew would affect him, starts searching his mind for the most likely suspects... and hisses as Alec catches his attention with a hint of teeth and an annoyed glance.

Green eyes close once they've assured that Sam is paying attention, that he hasn't wandered off somewhere inside his head, and Sam groans as that mouth sucks him in, even as his hands push him back, into the wall.

This guy clearly does this well, and for a moment Sam can forget, close his eyes and ride the sensation of sinful lips and torturous tongue that flutters against his skin, then flicks across the tender head of his cock until he's gasping and thrusting forward in search of something more.

Alec moans contentedly, pleased to have gotten Sam's attention back where it ought to be, and lets him thrust. Fucked up as the situation is, at least this is good, and with Sam taking over... Alec can lose himself in it a little more, focus on the smell and the taste and the delicious heat of it inside his mouth and forget about whatever Manticore is up to this time.

Sam's cock is nudging gently at the back of his throat, and it's so polite it makes him want to laugh given the rough treatment that's characterized most of their interaction, but it's... nice. Sam's big enough that he's probably had to be careful with most of his partners, never been able to really let go. Alec knows how much more he can take than a regular human, and suddenly he wants that - wants to give Sam something he's never had. A slight shift of his body and he's guiding Sam in deeper, his eyes devouring the flickering emotions on his partner's face as he goes and goes and goes, swallowing every inch.

<-----------more here

Nose buried in Sam's pubes and all Alec can smell is the scent of arousal. It goes straight to the animal part of him, fierce, possessive and part of Alec wants to claim this man, keep him. Alec concentrates, breathes through his nose and swallows, hums and Sam let's go, hips thrusting and hands large enough to nearly cover his head, weave into his hair.

"Fuck." It's dragged out of Sam's mouth, rusty nails and sand.

Alec uses one of his hands to cup Sam's balls, slow roll as he moves back, one finger a light press to Sam's rim. Sam grunts but it doesn't sound like a protest.

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