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Even though Sam can rip his brother apart using only his mind, he likes visuals- wants Dean to be able to see what’s coming.
Dean’s suspended from ropes, blood trickling from knots digging into his wrists. Sam’s kissing him roughly, dragging tonight’s prop over Dean’s skin. It’s heavy, thick, studded with sharp metal- Dean’s body is scored and bloody before Sam even gets to the main event.
This time Sam’s gonna count how many strokes it takes to separate skin from flesh- flesh from bones. The lash cracks like gunfire, lays Dean open, his cry chasing its echoes.
That’s one.