#dom sam
(GIF actually created by @scoundrels-in-loveviathis post)
Technically this is a day late, but I only saw the notification this morning. I was tagged by @mvdeanwhere to post a snippet from a current WIP, so here’s a portion of the first chapter from the S4 D/s Wincest fic I’m working on:
When I finally reached the front door, I peered into the atrium while my hand was getting stamped and noticed Dean coming out of the changing room and heading toward the coat check. I quickly ducked into the shadow of a support column and gaped at his outfit: black motorcycle boots, snug black leather pants hugging his bowed legs and curved ass, black and green leather chest harness framing his lean torso, matching bracers decorating his muscular forearms, and smudged kohl highlighting his verdant eyes. I suddenly needed to revise my earlier assumptions—his presence here clearly wasn’t a mistake, nor apparently was this his first time visiting an establishment like this.
I remained hidden behind the column as he walked past on his way into the main room and then took off my shirt. This place didn’t have as strict of a dress code as some of the fetish clubs I’d visited before, but wearing street clothes would likely still attract the wrong kind of attention. Fortunately the black jeans I was wearing shouldn’t look too out of place, though there wasn’t much else I could do about the rest of my appearance. Both the girl at the coat check counter and the monitor at the door to the club proper gave my casual attire a bit of the hairy eyeball, but I moved with the confidence of someone who had every right to be there, so they let me pass.
Inside was what I’d expected from similar encounters. Most of the central open space was taken up by the dance floor, where guests clad in fantastical, revealing costumes gyrated to the pounding music and exotically dressed performers atop pedestals or suspended in cages twisted through graceful routines. A long bar filled one wall and was doing brisk business supplying a variety of cocktails. Booths with leather seats took up two other walls to allow people to watch, socialize, or make out. An area near the back was reserved for tamer scenes fit for public view, while doors behind it no doubt led to private rooms for more intense or intimate play.
After a couple minutes of looking around, I noticed my brother leaning against a corner of the bar with what I guessed to be a Long Island Iced Tea in his hand. He tossed his drink back, set the glass down, and moved onto the dance floor, where he was almost instantly surrounded by suitors. He danced with several of them for about ten minutes, and I gritted my teeth as these strange men ground against him and put their hands all over him. The alcohol had made him loose-limbed, but I could tell he was nervous by his self-conscious smile and how his hands clenched at their groping. He slowly started to relax and eventually nodded to one, a muscular dark-haired guy almost as tall as me swathed in close-fitting leather from the neck down, who took his hand and led him through one of those back doors—and whom I instantly hated.
I’ve got ~13 chapters written so far and should have only a few left to go, so I hope to be able to start posting this on AO3 fairly soon. In the meantime, please feel free to check out my other works if you’re interested.
