Ageless Flight - You May Need to Fix This

“Isn't it?” That same voice that had been annoying him came back up. 

“Dean?”

“Dean, are you even paying attention?” A third time now but this time it finally settled in his senses. 

“For what?” He said without having any knowledge of what was being asked. It probably wasn't even the right answer.

He cut his staring and looked down at Liz, who was waiting for a response. 

“Whad’ya say?” The area that the both of them had been occupying was now feeling tight. He knew that he should have come alone. There would have been no questions. Then again, that would've made things suspicious—maybe. 

She sighed out, slightly frustrated but she wasn't angry. Never was it easy to do such a thing. But that wasn't vital. Slowly, the importance of who she was in Dean’s life started to deteriorate. 

He wasn't sad about it. He never even put much thought into it. Not when Roy was around now. And every day was full of thoughts directed towards his cousin. That lil’ bitch inhabited his mind, and that truly pulled feelings that were scattered across a wide range. 

Dean wasn't even sure what she wanted now. Was it even important? A half-assed answer was willing to roll off his tongue throughout the “conversation". 

So diligent eyes went back on the scene, fishing out the area where Roy and another unknown person were.

This time around, it was a man. It had just been simple dancing, nothing too vulgar—not yet. Dean knew that it was a matter of time before it got to that degree. He also knew that anger and other emotions would rise as he continued to watch.

Tonight was the fifth night he had watched Roy. 2 months ago was when they first saw each other again after something over a decade. 

It was some family bullshit—at first. He wasn't stoked to see someone who was a dumb brat when he was already 26. Roy was 10 or something at the time, and there wasn't much recollection of anything. 

But skip all that “wholesome” family shit to now and there he fuckin’ stood—all grown up. God, Dean had always hated Roy’s parents; never liked them for how religious and political they were (despite being family).

Their presence was always abundant—throughout his whole life but the reason Roy wasn't was because they sent him to a Catholic school or some shit. 

He wasn't even sure. He had zero knowledge of him. 

Dean—at the time of seeing him—wanted to know everything about him. He liked him. But not in a way that was—wrong.

Nah, that shit didn't start to develop until he saw him at one of the local clubs. 

Again, it was Dean’s friends who got to know Roy more than he did.

And that was the thing. He never paid any attention to Dean. He walked past him, never cared to recognize his existence other than with some kinda handshake and smile. 

“Look I know he’s your baby cousin.” That made him crinkle his nose in disgust. It made things sound weird with how he viewed Roy now. “Baby cousin” The term was sickening. The dude’s 20 now and Dean, 36.

Honestly, Dean didn't entirely see Roy as a family member. Yes, on some levels he did but what he was seeing/feeling outweighed that. 

And shit, he knew it was fuckin’ sinful, morbid—a revolting act to lust over someone who shares the same blood. 

“Don’t say that, Liz,” he quietly mumbled but loud enough for her to hear. 

“Fuck, fine. Anyway, I know you’re just looking out for him but don't you think he’s old enough to take care of himself?” She questioned. 

“I ain't lookin’ out for shit.” Dean kept his eyes steady on the way Roy's hips moved, the way he pressed his body, and smiled at the reaction from the dude he was all over. 

There was no other feeling in him but pure jealousy. He wanted that position; to know what it felt like. 

“I don't get it. You're like pissed off about him—we can leave, y’know?” Her annoying voice came back into Dean's head. It was hard for him to maintain a calm composure, to not yell at her and say what he was truly doing. 

Instead, he calmly said, “I’m just—it’s just weird, aite?” As he added a shrug, hoping she didn't ask any more questions. But obviously, that was an initiator. 

“What is?”

“The way he acts,” he promptly replied. 

“So your cousin’s gay, and?” 

That was also his initial thought but with various instances that included women—it tore down his idea of him being so. “Nah, he’s been fuckin’ on some bitches too.” 

“Bi. Whatever. Thought you didn't have a problem with that?” She said and this time her voice was a little concerned. Dean knew how Liz was about all that homophobic stuff. 

But it was only because of how many people he always had around him. It truly had nothing to do with that of course. “I don't. He’s—a fuckin’ whore.” Simply seeing him now. Another guy was added to the mix. 

Liz watched too but thankfully she never saw Dean's anger.

“So? Why are you so invested?”

“Is it, like, family related? Cause that kinda makes sense now,” she said innocently while playing with the ends of Dean’s bangs. But it never registered with him. 

Now more than ever, he kept his view on Roy who was grinding his ass against the taller of the two. All while the other forcefully kissed him.

Liz gasped loudly causing his concentration to break. “Did his parents ask you to watch him!?”

And by the time she finished her sentence, they moved away. Desperately, his eyes searched but trying to find them again would be useless since they must've left completely. 

“Yeah, kinda.” He turned to look at her, his tone dripping with annoyance.

But another thought came to life. To control that painstaking ache. One that would involve Liz but mostly his imagination and what he just saw Roy do. 

“You right though, it ain't important. let's go.” His hand came up to her back and she smiled once it made contact. 

♡♡♡

So again he tried the clubs but the absence of Roy in them was starting to fuel his irritation. 

Maybe a week went by and there was no sign.

He stared back at the address on his phone before knocking over the door. He can't fully remember where he got it from or who gave it to him. Maybe it was a drunken-rage type of thing when he needed to know where he lived.

Apartment 47. The place was nice, not the best but it had some decent qualities. Nothing remotely close to what Dean was used to but he didn't mind. 

It wasn't long before the door opened. Various thoughts did come to creep, like would Roy even want to see him? Truthfully, they were at the point of being old enough to lose connection as family members. 

“Oh, hey.” He spoke cautiously while holding the door close to him. 

At first, Dean was taken aback by the robe that he was wearing. Fluffy, pink, and translucent towards the ends. He also seemed a little shocked, possibly at the sight of Dean being at his door. 

But Dean didn't answer, he just stared at the robe. 

Roy looked down at his body as well but never did embarrassment dwell in his presence. Dean was waiting for the quick switch up over his face—one of complete shock and red features as he apologized profusely for the way that he was dressed. 

“Just got done showering.” There wasn't even a “sorry” attached to his words. Was there supposed to be? Dean wasn't sure. Altogether, he couldn't think properly. It was relatively difficult for him to attain the right skills to speak now. 

Right then, he also noticed how Roy’s hair was completely dry. There were also no other indications of a shower. Not that it mattered though. He wasn't mad that he got to see him wearing such a revealing piece. 

The view he has in front of him didn't need an explanation. It can simply be isolated. God damn, it looked too good on him. The color was a perfect contrast over his pale skin too. 

And before Dean let things get too awkward—he knew that this was the only chance to become closer—he cleared his throat and tried his hardest to ignore the ache and to fall into character.

“Ya mind if we talk a bit? Cousin to cousin. Y’know, I feel like we didn't get to really catch up.” He took his eyes off of Roy’s body and set them on his brown eyes. 

“You know, right now I-” He stopped. But to Dean, that was already pulling anger. A sort of excuse was making its way through Roy’s words.

But the thing that stopped his explanation was a man standing at the other end of the hallway, glaring at Roy. 

“Nevermind,” he mumbled as he stared back at the old man. Dean was confused about it but never asked a question regarding it. 

“Come in.”

Dean followed inside, closing the door behind him. 

As they walked in Dean couldn't help but stare at his ass. Yeah, it wasn't as great as a woman’s body, never will be too, but that's the thing about it. Being a male made it so much more wrong—not to mention that they’re related—and he wanted to revel in the sin. 

Following him felt almost intimate, hot, and welcoming. As if this were their place. Dean’s never been here but fuck it. He’d grab him by his waist and do him over the couch—wherever it was. 

“Fuckin’ neighbors. They hate me. I got some nasty rep with.”  Again he stopped. But now it was obvious to see him contemplating his thoughts or better yet, what he should say. “Some people. So I gotta watch myself,” he laughed but it wasn't genuine. 

And with everything that Dean has seen. He knows that it's because he brings various people here to fuck. So the guy outside must've thought that he was another.

The idea sounded too appealing to Dean; wishing it were true, he nodded and replied shortly, “yeah, bet.”

They kept walking until they got to the living room. Dean eyed the couch and smiled a bit as he remembered about his earlier thought. 

They both sat down. Dean’s eyes stayed over the robe as he watched it ride up Roy’s thighs as he moved around. Luckily, he never got caught. Even if he did, maybe he’d just spill it out then, tell him how he really felt. And he’d probably get shut down real quick, Roy would surely tell the whole family too.

And knowing that made things so much better. Part of him wanted to be called out; called a perv. He wanted Roy to hate him for the thoughts he had. 

But before anything could be said, someone walked out of the hallway. He looked confused as he stared at Dean, and soon that confusion went to disappointment when Roy said, “you can leave.” The tone was harsh but the dude didn't say anything other than nod before walking out.

It was strange but of course, they had fucked. Maybe they were fucking? And Roy just let him go like he was nothing, all because Dean was here. 

A surge of elation was looming in Dean now, a sense of excitement or anxiety was too. The fact that Roy chose him over that guy. 

“Friends,” he shrugged before pulling out his phone and briefly staring at something. 

Dean didn't say a thing. 

“So, where to begin? I’ve got nothing of interest,” he breathed out while tapping his hands on his thigh. Yet, he genuinely seemed enthusiastic about the conversation. Earlier, when Dean first arrived, he seemed annoyed but not anymore. Which was good. It was better for Dean.

Then again, Dean wasn't sure of what to say, wasn't even sure if he would get this far either. But he did. 

“I heard that you're engaged. Fun. When’s the big day?” He asked, a smile over his lips but the question made everything sour. 

“Yeah, we ain't really plan that yet,” Dean replied, hoping that it would end there, and thankfully it did as he simply hummed in response. 

He leaned back into the couch, he needed to get comfortable, to display the best—appealing—version of himself. “You like it here? In New Orleans?” He asked, an eyebrow arched with a small smile. 

Yeah, it was sorta lame to ask but it was a perfect conversation starter.

-After a few hours-

“And you? You with someone?” Dean asked, although he already knew what the answer would be.

Over the hours of conversation, Roy had gotten more comfortable around him. Their talk started to shift into a natural one as if they had spoken before. 

“Me? Nah, no one specific. I like anyone. Don't care who they are, how they look. If they significantly benefit me, then I'm fuckin’,” he spoke with greed, and Dean would be lying if he didn't find that whole bit alluring. 

♡♡♡

A string of nights came after that one. But one night stands out. It was in Dean’s house, they had been in his room because of some dumb guitar shit he had in there. He didn't even remember. 

A couple of beers and a few joints invaded that night. And they simply stood there, joking about random stuff. Until Roy sat down on his bed and asked, “Why you always lookin’ at me like that?” 

“You keep staring—at my legs. Look I know you southerners ain't used to shit like this. But-”

“It’s hot.” Dean interrupted him, wasting no time. And truthfully, he didn't expect it and his answer may have been acted out on a whim. But he didn't back down from it. He kept his face serious, maybe even deepening his view over his cousin. 

And for a while it stayed quiet as they stared at each other but Roy must have thought it was a joke. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he laughed, lightly hitting Dean’s knee before he stood up.  

“So where’s the best place to eat, ‘round here?” 

Instead of it leaving Dean at a dead-end, it initiated a talk that dived into those unnatural things.

♡♡♡

Finally, the night that changed everything was in his premise, and he didn't even know it.

Again, it was Dean’s room but this time there wasn't a substance to drown out a thing or to commit a regrettable act. He wanted to be sober when this took place.

He doesn't remember what it was that Roy said but it did insinuate something vulgar and wrong. 

So naturally, Dean asked, “And what’s the worst thing you've done?”

But there was a difference from every question he had ever asked. His existence was prominent, leaning over Roy like he never had before. However there wasn't intimidation in his face, no, his energy was strange, and maybe Dean should've known then.

“Fuck you talkin' bout?” He scoffed, giving back the same vibe, maybe even stronger. And it left Dean silent, possibly taken aback from his reaction. 

“God, y'know ya fuckin' suck at hiding this bullshit.” Roy’s eyes deepened as he spoke with annoyance and it lit up Dean’s body with intense embarrassment. 

“I know you've wanted to fuck me since the beginning.”

He swore he knew. Swore that he'd know what to do or say, swore that he'd make his move on his cousin to establish his place but he didn't; he felt powerless. 

Roy shook his head while smiling and pushing Dean away from him.

“You don't know what you're gettin’ yourself into.”

“Yeah?” Dean tried to attain his position but he failed. 

“Nah, I ain’t like any bitch you’ve ever been with.”

♡♡♡

--- 1 year later ---

The never-ending luminous sentiments embed every aspect of him, and it truly leaves his mind with minimal concentration. The patterns of the wall become a stain in his memory, the soft carpet and murky depth of this low-end New Orleans apartment are holding him to his core. 

Early, that's all he can think about. Early is all he's ever been to this “family reunion”. Checking the time now would only ravel his impatience with uncertainty. But there is the self-expectation to perform every act that will be asked perfectly; the reason he is here. To attain even the smallest amount of praise. 

So tonight is another night with both of them. Elation substantially sits alone. 

Once stepping here, the heat clenched around his throat. And once he entered Roy’s pink room, the heat spread across his body with little restriction.

He's been trained to stay in one position. To only have an existing role in Roy’s world when he’s called for it.

This isn't fully painful, he gets to watch him do several things. That alone is the highest grade of entertainment, it feeds the anxiety in his stomach at times. The only downside to such a thing is the lack of physical involvement. 

He can't touch him, only watch. Watch him slip into his pretty robes, watch him admire himself in the mirror because he’s more than aware of the presence he has. 

But this might as well be further discipline added to Dean as he waits in that uncomfortable position. 

There also isn't denying that he gets a sort of kick from being ignored. For most of his life, the people around him always conformed to Dean’s liking, and it was nice, he thought that until these nights with his cousin started. 

He hardly ever gets what he wants. It’s unbearable at times but it puts him in his place. 

Roy made him now. He rewrote every aspect and there isn't a way to clear it up. 

Permanently, every meet-up begins identical so, the degradation starts early. The existence of something sweet and wholesome has yet to exist in the dynamic they created. Perhaps, those feelings would never fit right between them. But who knows. It is new to Dean, and to say that he doesn't miss affection from a lover, that would be a lie. 

But he pushes all of that to the side when Roy finally looks over at him. He never rushes, he takes his time. He probably takes double the amount of time to get ready just to push Dean further into frustration. And as always, he’s done it right. 

The moment Roy walks over to him, collar in hand, his soul resonates with relief. Finally, he is getting the attention that he has been yearning for. And he does believe it to be deserved. 

“You walk around like such a badass, smokin’ and not givin’ a fuck with your chains swingin’,” he mocks, fingers gently brushing up to Dean’s shoulder. 

On cue Dean’s breathing becomes strained. The sweet smell of his perfume consumes him, the shimmer from his lotion makes him light-headed. And as always, he’s dressed up in a pink robe but this one is slightly different, with gossamer hems and sleeves that glisten warmly. 

Every element is minutely absorbed.  

The anxiety in his stomach makes a comeback. Dean has always believed to have a good style, one that pushes his ego but hearing Roy say those things makes him double-down on every aspect of himself. It is as if he should be a shut-in, stay in his place, even in public, and simply never speak again. 

Maybe Roy is right though. The act is getting old. 

Dean doesn't say anything and there is always a long pause between the words Roy speaks because he wants it to sit in the air and dwell with Dean. 

And it does until he feels the cold leather slither around his neck, the metal clicks together as Roy adjusts it but doesn't fully push it through the holes. 

The collar is made from expensive black leather. A piece of Metal with the word “SLUT” is attached to it. Something Roy forced Dean to buy as he did with most of the things he has come to own now.

And that was part of it too. They weren't just attached with sex but rather with Dean's money. 

And maybe that's why Roy has so much interest in him, why he finds him worth the effort. The moment Roy found out about all the money, that pushed him to fully do this. But most of it is a blur between alcohol and heavy smoking, additional drugs may have been added too. 

Whatever way it was initiated, the outcome is living up to its full potential. Dean wasn't fazed by the money thing, if anything it only added to their predicament. 

Roy looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows as he tightens the collar around Dean’s neck, possibly waiting for those “violent outbursts” he’d been told about.

He tempts him so he can find that aggressive notion but he doesn't dare take it out in Roy’s presence. No matter how much he taunts him or inflicts damage. 

Any other person on this Earth that dared to push for that aggression, would get it in a split second. Especially if it was this choking shit. 

He was never keen on weird stuff like that but Roy bent him into something he wasn't even aware that he would like.

“You a real mean muh’ fucker too, givin’ everyone them dirty looks.” The sensation of pricks over his heated face makes him want to yank away but he simply can't. It chokes him out causing him to cough but he lets Roy have his fun—plus, he likes the way it feels, likes the way Roy throws jabs after jabs. It adds to the pain.

“But not when you saw me. You couldn't believe that it was Lil’ ol’ Roy,” he laughs before biting his bottom lip and giving Dean’s body another look, the tight grip over his neck never quits.

“All grown up—and ya just couldn't resist.” He clicks his tongue and truthfully, it makes Dean feel a little guilty. 

He finally hooks the leather collar at the right length; comfy and breathable. 

“One look and I destroyed your entire personality, everything you fuckin’ knew. I ruined it and now I own what's left.” 

“If they only knew how quick I get you on your knees, how I make you beg and beg,” he chuckles while his finger taps the metal word. 

“A literal pussy—a dumb slut who wants choke on cock.” His voice gets quiet as if he were thinking of something, Dean wants to know what it is, he always does. Apart from that, he’s nothing but right. He’s guilty when it comes to wanting to suck his cousin off. It's not even something he would do, in fact, it was so foreign to him. But now it's literal enjoyment that he gets from it. And maybe that's what Roy was thinking about. 

“It’s amusing to me—the way you play your lil’ role out there,” he tilts his head to the side. Dean feels several emotions, mainly embarrassment at how his actions turned into what he does here. Never did he think that he would be in this position. But he wants this, he wants Roy, no matter the price to pay. 

“But here with me, this reality, whore, you’re free to be you—the real you. Your actual fuckin’ purpose.” Roy, for the second time and longest time tonight, stares back into Dean’s yearning eyes. A quick shameful heat coats his body but he wants to agree. This is the reason for his existence; to satisfy the man in front of him. 

“Feels good, don't it?” 

He nods desperately, the collar tightens around his throat as he moves his head. The response causes Roy’s eyes to light up but ultimately Dean doesn't get further praise. 

“Take off your clothes,” Roy demands while walking towards the jewelry box again to grab the counterpart of the collar. 

The first order comes rolling in, and he wastes no time to fulfil it. 

His fingers quickly grab the ends of his shirt to pull it off. Next to go are his pants and boxers as he strips down completely and quickly. He’s edging close to cover his flaccid penis, possibly as an instinct. But at the same time, he wants to lose all his dignity in this tiny room. Despite losing it over and over with each meetup. But every day is anew, and every feeling is sparked once again.

Shortly, Roy heads back to him and his eyes center over his body, there's a crinkle of disgust over his pretty face but a scoff covers it up after. 

With slight vulnerability, he stands there, knowing that Roy is judging his tattooed body. Time and time again, he’s commented negatively about it. But he's ready for this to continue. All day, this took over his mind. 

“You know your place. Ain't that right?” Standing right in front of him, he hooks the leash onto the loop of the collar. Roy tugs it lightly as if it were a practice round of some sorts. 

“Yes, Sir,” Dean finally speaks, and he’s planned it right because there isn't a “Shut up” or a “Did I say you could speak?” directed at him.

“Good.” Roy leans closer and bats his big lashes all while his lips hover over Dean’s. 

An all-too-well urgency swarms through Dean’s body. He knows that Roy is teasing him, knows how much he needs to kiss his plump lips.

But it will never come. 

Kissing is something Roy has put off—for now at least. 

Instead, while keeping their eye contact, he rests his arms over Dean’s shoulders. A soft smile appears once again over Roy but so does the intention of causing further embarrassment. 

“I heard you broke it off with your bitch. Now why on Earth would you do that?” Roy tilts his head, a slight smile spreads as he centers his view onto Dean—who becomes tense at the newly added question. 

That was the last thing Dean wanted to hear. He already had so much of it from his parents, friends—her. And now the word got around to Roy, yet, he’s the only one in the world that knows why he did it. No one got a real response, and that made the people around him angry. 

Shit, they can be furious all they want. They can cut ties with him, he didn't give a single fuck. Not when he is crawling back to the only person who truly gives him what he needs. 

The whole ordeal must be comical to Roy. He’s commented before on how she wasn't the prettiest. So the visual of her crying must be the reason for his laughter. 

But what he told her—the excuse wasn't even a good one. Not even something that Dean remembers either. And since the day of breaking it off, she has been hitting up his phone non-stop. But of course, none of that was or will be acknowledged.

Before coming to Roy’s apartment there had been a string of missed calls, voice mails, text messages from her and her friends. 

“Yeah, the cunt was stuck-up but she had them nice fuckin’ tits.” A spark of jealousy arose over Dean, it’s enough to make him look away. Roy had also commented over how good the visual must be if she rode his dick. He said it was more than appealing but she definitely isn't worth the effort. 

That alone could execute his jealousy but it truly didn't. Because who knows, maybe another bitch might be worth the effort, as he puts it. 

So he has to be the biggest benefit to Roy, always. 

But it’s hard for Dean to truly say the words. They've done this so many times but he’s never fully committed. He breathes out before speaking. “I want to belong to you. Do everything you want me to do, sir.”

“Shit.” A laugh croaks from his throat, raspy and deep. “‘magine if the whole family found out you were fuckin’ your lil’ cousin?” To finish his comment he flashes a smile. “‘Specially now.”

But that is only momentary as he gets serious to let Dean know of the severity and how if anyone found out, then he will be to blame. “They’d fuckin’ kill ya.”

“I don't care. I’d do anything—just to be with you.”

And those words make every feeling outside of the world perish and from now on they will work on what little they have here, in Roy’s room. 

The atmosphere is tighter, the heat has risen and there truly is no going back now. Roy steps up closer, Dean knows that they both feel the same thing and the trajectory is the epitome of perfection. 

“Worship me then.” His words, sensual but prominent as they stay in the air to hold Dean’s desires at the edge. 

It's immediate when Dean’s calloused hands smooth over Roy’s waist and hips. The pink mesh molds into the crevices of his palms as they move with pure determination. 

He slips to his knees, hands never leaving Roy’s body as if it were his lifeline. Open lips press up to different parts of his body; wishing that the silk fabric wasn't in the way. 

He knows that regret will never swim in his entity. The new grounds he calls home will forever be in his soul, peaking highs, never lows. Emotions will now only know a fruitful kind of sense. 

Misery has always been tied to every dirty aspect that he holds. 36 and he never planned a future. But he knows that this is what he has been waiting for. Unknowingly, as he kisses Roy’s thigh, this is what he is supposed to be living for.

He’s everything he knows. 

His fingers slide down Roy’s chest and to his hips. Dean looks upward as he does this. The look that his cousin has is one of grandiosity; pride to the point of never seeing another human to hold value. He is the center of attention and the only being on this Earth to walk with greatness. 

And Dean exists as the one who bows down to him; honored to even be allowed to put his grimy hands over him. 

The satisfaction from Roy comes in great measures. But the moment is over when he brings his hands over Dean to push him back. There isn't any argument, not a word. The only thing that marks Dean’s revolt, is a minor groan as he falls back to his knees. 

But he watches Roy, watches him grab a blunt that he rolled before acknowledging his existence. He sits over the pink couch that is only a few feet away from Dean.

“Light it.” 

Dean quickly runs to his side after grabbing the pink Bic lighter. He lights the held out blunt, and once it is suitable, he goes back to his place. 

Like white mesh, it swirls and floats from his mouth to the wrist that holds his blunt. “Mmm.” A devious hum lurks behind a thick puff of smoke. 

“Down.” His voice prompts Dean to quickly drop to his knees. 

“I wanna know,” he breathes out the smoke. “How often you think about fuckin’ your cousin?” he continues while tilting his head and watching Dean carefully. 

There is pure embarrassment lurking over the blond man’s face. Little eye movement calls for another demand from Roy, “answer me!”

“Every day, Sir!” He frantically spills the information. 

“And what exactly do you fantasize?” 

There isn't any hesitation this time around, “I fantasize about fucking you—sir. In so many vulgar situations.” Although the awkwardness is in his voice.

“You weird-ass cunt, explain one to me.”

Dean keeps his eyes over Roy’s. It's hard to keep them there. Especially when his cousin is judging him and thinking of the foulest shit in his head. 

Regardless of the opinions and labels that Roy now has over Dean, he describes what he thinks about on the regular, “I think about fucking you while the whole family watches.”

He tries to speak with little shame. But it's not easy. 

“I know how much your parents fuckin’ hate me. They’ll want to kill me once they see what I do to you.” Yet, it gets easier as he goes deeper into his fantasies. 

“Oh God, last Sunday, when we were all together. You were giving me that fuckin’ look across the table.” His words make Roy smile, knowing that his actions were stirring Dean up that day. 

“I just—I just wanted to fuck you over the dining table. All so they could watch, horrified.”

“I want them to see… want them to fuckin' know how good I fuck their son.” And it is true. All he wanted was to wipe that egotistical, pretentious look off his parents’ faces. They always acted as if they were better than everyone in the family, always boasting about how religious and well-maintained their children are. But, fuck, if they truly knew what Roy was like, what he allows Dean to do to him. It would destroy their entire empire of mediocrity. 

And as the whole truth leaves his lips, Roy looks satisfied. He likes what Dean is describing. While spending time together he picked up on Roy’s hate for his own parents. And he knows that he wouldn't be against the whole dining table thing—if it were possible. 

“That turn you on, You fuckin' perv?” He asks while pulling the leash. 

“So much,” he breathes out in frustration. 

“Tell ya what.”

“I'll let you fuck me but ya gotta earn it. You think you capable of that, slut?” The collar around his neck tightens but the words that Roy speaks are drawing every kind of excitement and relief. 

“Of course, sir,” he desperately says while coming closer.

“Then fuck you lookin’ at me for? Get to it,” he demands while leaning back and spreading his legs. 

Dean leans up to him, the mixture of cannabis and the rose perfume is intoxicating. His hands pull Roy’s cock out, he palms it down. The movements are mesmerizing but the size is even more; standing tall and proud. 

He makes sure to press down over every swollen vein. His tongue licks the slit of his head, and there is a grunt heard from above. 

His tongue then slides over the side and over the veins in that area. His thumb rubs the tip in a circular motion, he's delicate and knows what appeals to his cousin. 

He can feel the way he tenses up and when he does so, it's the indication that he truly likes the actions. 

He takes half of his cock in his mouth with no trouble. He can only imagine how much he likes the warmth and wetness of Dean’s mouth. 

He holds his own, never letting his hands come back up since Roy has vocalized his dislike of being touched any more than what he allows. 

He forces more of his length down his throat. 

“C'mon, slut, you're so close,” Roy breathes out, and now a hand is over Dean’s hair. 

Truthfully, he deserves this. He deserves all the attention his cock gets. This must be why he had so many people around him, why everyone was so clingy. Fuck, it makes him a little angry but not entirely since now he is the one who gets to please him.

And he loves to do it. 

He relaxes himself as he slowly takes the rest of Roy’s length into his mouth. The tip of his nose is now buried into his pubes.

And this is what he's been training for, to fully take all of Roy’s astonishing length.

“Fuck, good slut,” Roy breathes out and Dean can sense a smile as well as a speck of genuine admiration laced in the comment. 

He brings himself upwards and down again, now that he’s coated every inch with saliva. Tears are welling up in his eyes now and breathing is difficult. Yet, Roy’s fingers take a hold of his roots every time his mouth slides over it. 

Fuck, it feels so good to be used like this. 

At times, he does wish that Roy would return the favor. Just at the thought of Roy’s lips wrapped around his cock. He’s seen the talent he has with his tongue. It's an undeniable urge. God, he can only imagine how amazing it would feel. He wouldn't last anything past five minutes, that's for sure. 

“I don't suck dick. I’ll leave that to airhead bimbos like yourself.” And when he said those words, Dean’s entirety fell into shambles. It's the thing he wanted the most but he won't ever get it. And when he felt those dreadful feelings, Roy’s hand had forcibly pushed him down to his knees. 

It was in the bathroom of the nightclub on Santa Clara Blvd. He still remembers that night. 

Once at his knees, he didn't argue, he didn't even speak, only accepted what Roy said; furthermore, proving him right. 

The laughs and the degrading comments spun in the air as he did a half-assed job at the time. 

But he’s gotten better. Of course he has. What just transpired was pure proof. And that satisfied smile over his cousin isn’t one that is pulled easily. 

His open hand pushes Dean away roughly. 

Roy tilts his head in amusement, and Dean immediately regrets having the attention on him. He centers his eyes over Dean’s dick.  “No way you got hard from suckin’ me off,” he laughs. 

His foot comes up to Dean’s knee to move it out of the way roughly, to get a better view. The ache switches over to dignity being lost as his body heats up with more embarrassment. 

“Swear I'm always shocked at how fuckin’ tiny that shit is.”

“I’m always thinkin’: there’s gotta be more to this muh’ fucker. I mean he acts like it. But I guess that's why you're always angry,” he jeers him on.

brown eyes watch Roy’s manicured foot come up to his cock. The sole presses down roughly over his small length. The air is taken out of Dean’s chest at the contact. 

“Nah, that can’t be all,” he laughs again while furrowing his eyebrows and squinting down at him. 

Shamefully, it is at its full length, roughly half of Roy’s cock size, maybe even a little smaller? So of course it was something that Roy was surprised to see and he was skeptical at first. So when agreeing to this, the negative comments and the bashing came attached. 

“Is that really all of it?” He asks; making his voice sound innocent and curious. 

“It is,” he squeaks like the pathetic bitch he is. He can't stand the way the skin of his foot rubs his aching cock down. 

“Sir,” he gasps while a chill runs down his spine. 

“Fuckin' pathetic,” he mumbles while pressing down over his dick. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to have fun with that, huh?” 

“I’d get more pleasure with my fingers.” As he continues to speak the force of pressing down increases.

“I-” Dean’s breath is stuck in his throat and only an unstable whimper croaks from his parted lips. 

“You what, bitch?” He violently yanks the leash causing Dean to lean in forward. But his foot never moves or the weight that is applied never drops. 

Jagged breaths and the need to kiss him is high, he needs it to sustain himself, in this vulnerable position. But there's only a full row of teeth in front of him, lips curving upwards and a fixed stare. 

“You gon’ make up for it with buyin’ me everything I want.”

“Yes, anything you want, sir,” he quickly replies.

“Finna use you whenever I need to get off too.” 

A shaken exhale seeps from him at the thought of Roy’s words. There is a chill running down his spine as well, “please, use me, I’m yours, forever.”

“And y’know what? I'm tired of living in this shit hole, so what ya gon’ do ‘bout it?” 

“Live with me, I'll give you everything, just please, don't stop,” he moans. 

Roy chuckles while tilting his head up and taking a final blow of his joint before killing it completely. He removes his foot from Dean along the way he crinkles his face in disgust at the pre-come that is over him. He rubs his foot over Dean’s thigh to wipe it off. As he does so, Dean feels fulfilled towards his purpose of being used once again.

His hand wants to stroke himself, to ease the ache but he knows that he can't, all the attention to his cock is practically over for now.

Soon there is a greedy smile over Roy as he topples Dean onto his back. He tips over and accepts that his view is now the ceiling. 

“A tiny, useless man who loves gettin’ stepped on,” he speaks overhead as Dean listens to him move around and then stand above him. His heart begins to race when he hovers above Dean’s shoulders. 

His own hands want to grab his legs, run down them, and tell him to sit where he truly belongs. But he can't and he waits for Roy to do it on his own as he crushes him with his thick thighs. 

Fuck. The immediate cut of air flow tightens his chest and heats up his face but he loves this part. 

“Keep your hands down, don't want you touchin’ me.” Despite his words being muffled, he places his hands at his sides like Roy demanded. 

He makes sure that his tongue subsists as the perfect candidate for this now. He swipes it across Roy’s asshole before pushing inside of him. Yeah, it is hard to do it alone without the help of his arms. But practice only made him better at this. And it truly is paying off. 

He dips his tongue in and out of him, loving the taste, and at times blowing air upwards. 

“Damn, slut,” he moans differently from when Dean was blowing him, this is more feminine, more him. “You've gotten better at this,” croaks from his throat but with a whine. 

But Dean wishes to use his hands; all so his palms could run down his body, and his fingers could feel the ripples of his ass. 

But the way he’s grinding over him, suffocating him while drool slips down his face, it's uncomfortable yet hot. The way Roy presses down causing Dean’s chest to tighten. He's using him at his own pace, fucking himself with Dean’s tongue. 

But he needs to keep going. No matter how much the muscles of his jaw and tongue are willing to give out. He needs to keep his tongue positioned at that perfect angle. It isn't the best way of going about this, he knows that if they did this Dean’s way, he’d have Roy coming more than once. 

But still, with the way that he sounds and is moving, Dean knows that he’s touching his body. Running those hands down his chest and to his thighs. Yet Dean knows that he is keeping it to a minimum. 

Truthfully, he sucks at hiding it. To know that he can pull those actions from his cousin is pure enjoyment. It gives him the motivation that he needs to keep going. 

After a few more minutes, Roy finds it suitable to move away.  

Air fills his lungs. The heat from his face falls off slowly. He then hears Roy stand up, the leash drags upwards too quickly as it's tugged a few times signaling him to stand up. 

He's dazed as the room spins but he manages to stumble over to Roy. 

“C’mon, do it, mother fucker,” he says with a clenched jaw as he leans over the dresser with a large mirror attached to it. 

He snatches the leash with a sharp grip causing Dean to press down over Roy’s wet body. 

He doesn't wait for another order/word. Steady hands grip Roy’s waist. This is what he's earned. What he's been looking for. And truthfully, the only thing that will bring him peace in his miserable life. 

He positions the head of his throbbing cock over Roy’s wet asshole and pushes himself in with no trouble. He knows the stance and the position to hold so he can properly give Roy what he is asking for. 

Yeah, he lacked in certain areas. But not this. Never this. This is the reason why bitches called. Why they stayed and why ultimately he decided when they were through. And Dean held that notoriety. But now his cousin took that away. Because now it's Dean who hopes to stay forever relevant. 

Then again, he also knew that it was all just a matter of how things played out too. He’d go as far as to say: if their initial instance started where Dean fucked him first then Roy would be begging to get dicked down on the regular. 

This is why Roy allows this in moderation. Dean knows that Roy truly loves it. The benefit that stands out aside from the money. He wouldn't have that look over his heated face if it weren't true. 

All of this would be completely different. And he did wish to see that slutty version of him. 

He knows it exists. 

All the nights in the clubs were a perfect example but there’s an instance that stands out more than any other. 

It was a late Thursday, Roy’s place, as they had started to set their meetup. 

He was over the couch, a purple robe fell over him, so gracefully as if he wasn't full of vulgar shit. The display of himself was on purpose of course, and going near him was restricted. 

“Or better yet, your friends. I see how they look at me,” he smiled while stroking his cock. 

Lube-drenched fingers repeatedly slipped in and out of himself. 

“I'd let them fuck me. Pass me around while you watch.” And after he’d say something vulgar, he’d dig them in deeper, faster, and huff quietly as if it were truly the scenario. 

Repeated “No”’s wanted to leave his lips. It was scratching at his insides, burning him, as he watched Roy play with himself and envision Dean’s friends fucking him. “I can do it better.” was another thing that stood at the edge of his mouth but it never fell. 

He hated when Roy would say those things about Dean’s friends. Because he knew that it was true. Those fuckers did look at him as if he were ready to give them a blowjob or he was bending over to let them hit. And maybe he was. Maybe he'd be keen on it now, just to destroy Dean. 

Fuck them. Ever since those thoughts came, he started cutting ties with people he's known for years. Their friendship didn't matter anymore. 

He just watched, his erection stiff, but he wasn't permitted to touch a thing. 

Skillfully, it was all to teach Dean raw discipline. It was excruciating but once Roy finished, he called Dean over with a whistle and a finger pointed down at the come over his lower half. 

It always felt like that certain moment never came quick enough, it was agonizing, but once it did, he crawled over—as Roy intended his actions to be—and licked up his cousin’s release like a hungry dog. 

“Fuck,” Roy moans into his arm. 

Dean’s heated face presses down to his back to place a kiss over his spine but it's quickly rejected with a hard jerk, “don’t fuckin’ touch me,” he mutters while pressing his open mouth over his palm. 

It tears Dean down but he disregards it and keeps his pace up. He knows that one day those things will be fine to do and he will have to earn it. Yet, he's willing to do it. Climb any sort of height Roy puts those limitations on. 

brown eyes watch his heated face intently. The way he admires himself while getting fucked. That's a new one. Not that it's something to complain about. Genuinely, he likes to watch the way Roy acts—and knowing that he is doing those things because of him, then that’s the most he can give him.

“Can I come inside of you?” His voice is shy (something he has never been). His tongue felt tied when he did speak it, and regret is now looming. 

And of course, it is denied as Roy quickly pushes Dean off of him. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ dare,” he grits his teeth while scowling at the blond man, who now wants to shrink at the actions. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles while avoiding eye contact. 

“Stupid slut, get on your knees,” he demands. 

Dean drops to his knees as he watches Roy walk up to him, hand stroking his dick. 

“Come on the carpet, whore,” he breathes out while he pumps his dick over Dean’s face. “Don’t look away,” he says when Dean briefly looks down to get himself off. 

“Fuck, you like that, don't you?” he asks when he comes, shooting all over Dean’s heated face. 

He’s breathing heavily, but he nods, and finally he comes over the carpet as he was instructed to do. And freely, his fingers swipe the come only to suck it off his own fingers; loving the taste he makes sure Roy watches his vulgar act. There's satisfaction over Roy’s face. He knows he's pleasing him.

He makes sure to not let a single drop go to waste.

Roy slips to his knees exhausted. His fingers loop around the leash as he brings Dean’s body over his. “Good slut,” he says quietly while stroking Dean’s hair.