Foreword: Prioritieswhatarethey.

Cooked this up many many months ago and then I never finished it. My Dean-muse however kicked my ass into gear so I finally finished the last few paragraphs. It's short, nothing but a smut fest, because I'm a shameless Alastair/Dean shipper.

After 30 years of agony indescribable to man, Dean finally can't take anymore and says yes to Alastair. He gets off of the rack and picks up Alastair's blade. But maybe he's not broken enough yet.

The twitching mass in front of him finally stopped moving, and Dean turned away to grab a cloth to clean the knife.

"Such excellent form. Classical, but with a unique flair," Alastair stated and Dean could hear the grin in his voice. Dean put the knife down and stared straight ahead, not giving Alastair the satisfaction of seeing his face. Something was breaking inside him and he knew it was showing.

"I knew you would be good at this Dean. Such promise; with a little more work you'll be a master."

Alastair's voice was close now, too close, each silvered word reaching down deep and twisting his insides. Dean felt a piece of him shatter when he realized, in a sick, disgusting way he was happy. Alastair was praising him; genuinely proud of his work. Not even his father ever showed such satisfaction. The relief was overwhelming, chipping at the remnants of guilt and horror Dean still felt towards his deed.

Alastair nuzzled his nose against Dean's ear and whispered, "You know, Dean, it gets me so excited to see you finally open up, finally blossom." Alastair's hands travelled down Dean's arms, tracing ridges of muscle and stopping to stroke his blood-stained forearms and hands.

"Oooh and don't you make me feel naughty seeing you lay into that bitch with such wanton passion, so much beauty in your form, Dean," Alastair purred hotly against his ear, breath coasting over Dean's skin and making the former-hunter involuntarily shiver.

Dean grimaced and closed his eyes, setting is jaw tightly. He felt a long tongue tease the ridge of his ear and Dean turned his head away in revulsion. Alastair's touch was not foreign to Dean. After all, torture had many forms and while Alastair preferred classical slice 'em and dice 'em torture –said it was more professional- his hobby was crushing his projects with psychological torture. According to the demon there was nothing like taking one of Dean's few comforts in life and twisting it and defiling it until all lingering touches had Dean flinching and ready to scream for him to stop.

But even as he felt those disgusting, immaculately cleaned hands glide over his chest and waist to pull him flush against the demon's larger form, and that mouth was insistent on nibbling and sucking his ear, Dean did not feel any fear. There had been a thousand opportunities by now for Alastair to throw Dean down and have his way with him just as he had always done. But Alastair was no longer his tormentor; Alastair was his teacher, and he had promised the pain would stop so long as Dean never faltered. Dean was quickly learning the demon was a man of his word.

And it had been far too long since Dean felt a touch that wasn't agony. He needed a god damn break.

At the next slow suck on Dean's ear he let the tension ease out of his body and blanked his mind, letting himself enjoy the sensation. Alastair didn't stop –he was used to Dean giving in on instinct- and ran his hands under Dean's shirt to tease his nipples. Then Dean moaned, the sound long and low because it really had been too long and that hint of pleasure alone made Dean ache for more contact.

Alastair paused, obviously surprised by Dean's reaction.

"Well well, my little protégé is getting hot and bothered by teacher's hands," Alastair purred, brushing his thumbs over hard nubs of flesh again and making Dean gasp.

"Shut. Up," Dean snapped, spinning around and kissing the demon hard. Alastair returned the kiss with as much force, biting and sucking Dean's lips just shy of breaking skin. His lips bruised and swelled, and the next time Alastair sucked Dean moaned in pleasure from the heightened sensation. The demon grabbed the back of Dean's head and dug his fingers in, just the right amount of pain make Dean groan into his mouth. No, not pain –Dean knew pain and this wasn't it; this was ache, delicious burning ache Dean thought he'd never feel again. Dean felt the remainder of his resolve shatter, something breaking inside him he knew was wrong but fuck, it felt so good. He didn't care anymore.

He sucked on Alastair's tongue and plunged his own into his mouth, fucking the hot cavity until Alastair pulled back with unsteady breath. Dean smirked at that. Alastair watched him with burning eyes, a grin twisting his lips before lowering his mouth to Dean's neck and attacking it with tongue and teeth. Alastair's hands travelled expertly over Dean's body now and fuck fuuuck Alastair knew his body inside and out and he knew exactly where to touch to make Dean melt for him and bring him close to begging. The sheer contrast from agony to ecstasy was intoxicating.

"Alastair, fuck," Dean gritted out through shaky breath, "Ground. Now."

And holy shit, Alastair obeyed him, in his own way of course because he lifted Dean effortlessly and man-handled him so he was lying underneath the demon on the ground.

Alastair shifted and settled himself between Dean's legs, the ex-hunter's thighs pressed loosely on either side of the demon's hips.

Alastair drew back on his knees and smirked at him infuriatingly. "Dean Dean Dean, what happened to being straight?"

"I haven't felt good in thirty years you asshole, now for fuck's sake touch me," Dean growled, trying to mask what sounded suspiciously like begging as he dragged the demon forward for another tongue-filled kiss.

It wasn't about being straight, not really; not anymore. After thirty years of agony Dean needed this, and as sick as he knew it was, Alastair was the only one, demon or human, he knew -trusted- enough down here to do this with. The things Alastair had done to him had no words, but the demon still never lied to him. Despite the defilement and how much he reveled in provoking him, Alastair never showed him disrespect, and after many years Dean learned not to disrespect him.

"Oh course, pet," Alastair purred, "Twist my arm, why don't you?"

Alastair tore Dean's shirt like it was tissue and oh god, oh godhis hands burned like ice and fire and it was too much and not enough at the same time and Dean arched into the sensation with a long moan. He needed this; he wanted this even knowing that there wasn't much he could do after this to fall farther into the pit, to take away everything he once was.

Dean gasped and choked back a whine when he felt nails drag down his sides, not breaking skin like he used to but sending shocks through his body. Heat pooled low in his stomach and Dean groaned.

"Hush little one," Alastair breathed against his ear, "We're just getting started."

Dean glared at him and said, "Don't fucking condescend me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

And then Alastair stopped talking, because his mouth was on Dean's again and the ex-hunter immediately kissed him back, searching out the taste of sulfur and cruelty like it was greatest taste ever made.

Alastair's mouth moved down his jaw and neck, and while it was once disgusting to him before it was turning him on now; he didn't know if it was the situation but his mouth actually felt really fucking good now and it took everything in him not to moan. Dean very nearly cried out when Alastair's lips closed around a nipple and sucked. Dean gasped and moaned when those fingers literally danced down his sides, stroking and manipulating nerves Dean didn't even know could spark with pleasure and he nearly sobbed from how good it felt. His mouth kept moving, sinfully -hah- talented lips and tongue twirling over skin and it was almost unfair how mind-blowing it was and then suddenly Dean's mouth stretched open in a silent scream when Alastair's mouth went lower, lower and lower and oh god oh god please don't stop!

Dean cried out and bucked his hips up when Alastair settled between his legs, his nails digging deeply into the ground to anchor him to the floor. His vision was pulsing white and hot behind his eyes and he thrashed his head from side to side, sweat pooling off of his skin while that fiery tongue flicked just right over his hips and his abdomen and he cried out again. He arched off the ground to grind into Alastair's chest and the demon chuckled, Dean feeling the smirk against his slick skin.

And then Alastair pulled off completely, just one finger on each side tracing up and down his sides and oh god, Alastair was tormenting him again because apparently old habits die hard but this time there was no agony; his touch was nothing but pleasure, ecstasy, and white-hot need.

Dean's eyes rolled back at a sudden, calculated flick to tongue, and he tried to arch into that sensation but firm hands held him down. Dean caught his breath and willed himself to think.

"Alastair," Dean moaned, his voice already wrecked and he should've have felt ashamed, but all he felt was the pulsing behind his eyes, in his heart, and through his aching cock. "Alastair."

"You'll have to try harder than that, Dean."

"F-fuck, please…more," Dean breathed out, physically willing himself not to whimper.

"You always did beg so pretty, my pet," Alastair chuckled. Suddenly Dean felt anger boil in his stomach; Alastair was not controlling him here, not anymore. He didn't know where it came from, his legs had been quivering too much to barely stay upright moments ago but now he felt fury pounding in his veins, mixing wonderfully with the adrenaline and lust. Dean wrapped his legs around the demon's torso and used his weight to quickly toss him over. Alastair actually looked surprised enough by the sudden movement that his eyes widened and didn't try to stop it, letting out a sharp huff of air when he was slammed down by Dean's hands on his chest. Dean was straddling his chest now, his aching length inches from Alastair's mouth and leaking pre-come.

Alastair quickly gathered his wits and grinned like a mad man, his eyes lidding and filling with lust. "I like this side of you Dean. So possessive, so forceful," Alastair said, exaggerating a shiver of pleasure, "You should take control more often."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the demon, and smirked, "That so? First thing's first then."

Dean shifted forward and angled his cock to smear the sticky head across the demon's lips, "I've spent my entire time down here listening to you get off to the sound of your own voice. Why don't you shut up for a while?"

Alastair smirked up at him but annoyance flashed in the demon's eyes, obviously not liking the order. Dean stared him down, waiting patiently. Never taking his eyes off of Dean Alastair opened his mouth and Dean thrust his length deep inside. Dean didn't know why he wasn't surprised that Alastair didn't gag, just swallowed him whole and sucked him hard. Dean nearly buckled at the sensation and moaned.

"Oh fuck, just like that," Dean breathed.

And Dean was at least a little more surprised by this; Alastair was a fucking master at sucking cock and Dean's eyes rolled from the pleasure. Dean planted his hands down on either side of Alastair's head and watched him go to town through lidded eyes, barely able to keep his breathing controlled. Dean rocked himself shallowly inside the demon's mouth, not having to do much thrusting with how Alastair was bobbing his head, and kept swallowing down the whimpers that wanted to betray his complete lack of control here. Alastair drew back until only the head was in his mouth, letting the swollen tip rest heavily on his tongue but stopping all other movements. Dean really couldn't help the desperate whimper that tore from his throat then as he bucked, and Alastair just smirked without a word before going down again.

Apparently Alastair was only fucking messing with him before, because then he really started to suck his cock and he suddenly swallowed around the head the same moment he did something indescribable with his tongue over the vein and Dean cried out in pleasure. His arms trembled and he nearly collapsed from jolts of pleasure shooting through his core, digging his nails in to the ground and moaning long and loud. That tongue kept dancing over his flesh like Dean was a fucking toy and god, he really was because soon his hips were stuttering forward into that mouth and he was moaning raggedly for more, please please more!

Damn it all, he had Alastair pinned with his cock down his throat and the demon was still the fucking master over him. Dean quickly found he really didn't care, as long as Alastair kept up with that sinful tongue of his he could control Dean however he pleased. Dean collapsed onto his elbows and cried out again, tangible thought leaving him as orgasm tore and ripped its way up to the surface like a blinding hot liquid fire that he couldn't escape from even if he wanted to.

"A-ah…shit…Alastair, I'm gonna-!" Dean dug his fingers into the ground below him, hardly noticing his nails cracking and panted harshly, his eyes squeezing shut and biting his lip hard to fend off another cry.

Alastair grabbed Dean by his hips and dragged him forward, burying his length completely down his throat and that was all it took. Dean shouted and jerked spasmodically into the demon's mouth, coming so hard he saw white and that burning heat tore through him until he swore he was splitting in half from the all-consuming ecstasy. It was heavy too, like a weight on his chest tearing out in jolts and even if he wasn't cognitive enough to register what it meant, he knew that it felt distinctly dark, black. Pure lust and ache and greed engulfed his senses and he fucked hard into the pliant mouth below him and god, Dean didn't want it to stop. It seemed to go on forever and Dean gasped and moaned and shook from the intensity of it.

Dean was glad he already had his arms planted to the ground because when it finally subsided, he was trembling so much he feared collapsing. Holy fuck he hadn't come in so long he almost forgot how it felt.

"…Fuck," he managed to pant out after what felt like hours or days, swallowing thickly. Alastair chuckled around his mouthful and flicked Dean's thigh, and Dean was too wrecked to scowl at him as he pulled out.

Actually, Dean was too wrecked to really stay upright anymore and as soon as he pulled out and shifted off of him, he collapsed on his back next to the demon. He swallowed hard again, still panting like he had run for miles, and looked over at Alastair. He was standing already, cleaning off some of his tools but Dean could see the straining erection inside his pants.

"I guess…it's my turn, yeah?" Dean panted softly. He tried to sit up, but his arms felt like jelly and he quickly slumped back to the ground.

Alastair chuckled, "No no Dean, no need to today. Consider it a… rookie present."

Dean was tired and blissed to care. He closed his eyes and immediately started to doze.

"And so he breaks," Alastair whispered under his breath, but Dean was far too gone to hear it.