Except not quite. Not wholly new. Not the begging, not the desperation. But the fear... Before it had been like a fine knife edge. Now it's like a force, pressing out through Dean's wide eyes.
He thinks about forcing more than that please. Because he's remembering crouching in an alley with Neil in his arms, facing down the barrel of Dean's gun, pleading, and he understood and understands and has long since forgiven...
But that doesn't mean he might not like to take some things in trade.
But that also doesn't feel like it belongs here. He waits another moment or two, drawing it out, and then swings the baton sideways into Dean's thigh. It's heavy, monstrously solid, not meant to damage the skin or leave welts but instead to bruise, hard and deep and agonizingly close to the bone. He's careful. He has to be. Too hard and bone will simply shatter. And the thick thud it makes as it impacts Dean's flesh is more than enough.
no subject
Except not quite. Not wholly new. Not the begging, not the desperation. But the fear... Before it had been like a fine knife edge. Now it's like a force, pressing out through Dean's wide eyes.
He thinks about forcing more than that please. Because he's remembering crouching in an alley with Neil in his arms, facing down the barrel of Dean's gun, pleading, and he understood and understands and has long since forgiven...
But that doesn't mean he might not like to take some things in trade.
But that also doesn't feel like it belongs here. He waits another moment or two, drawing it out, and then swings the baton sideways into Dean's thigh. It's heavy, monstrously solid, not meant to damage the skin or leave welts but instead to bruise, hard and deep and agonizingly close to the bone. He's careful. He has to be. Too hard and bone will simply shatter. And the thick thud it makes as it impacts Dean's flesh is more than enough.