the obligatory, deliciously necessary, frat boy sam fic, because how could i not?
he starts off shy and reserved, keeping to himself, trying to find a new routine that doesnāt scream outcast-social-reject-backwoods-hillbilly upbringing. he has a roommate his freshman year, another dork who studies more than he sleeps and never misses a class. but then his sophomore year rolls around and he gets a roommate whos outgoing and fun. his name is brady and heās charming and cocky in a way that makes you crave his approval, and in the late hours when he comes home and tosses his keys on his desk and flops face down onto his bed, sam sees a flash of his older brother in him. itās fleeting and he squashes it down because it hurts to think aboutāto remember the last time he saw dean, with that defeated realization on his face that he was losing sam for real this time.
so sam takes a liking to brady and brady to him. for some reason he adores sam, loves pulling him by the wrist out the door to parties because bradyās a social butterfly and has been eyeing up a couple frats to join, says he wants to scope them out and claims he needs sam to wing-man him, whatever that means in the context of frats.
a few weeks go by and donāt ask how it happened but samās about to be a new pledge. hazing starts this friday and heās been bouncing off the walls with anticipation. brady tells him heāll be fine, that theyāll get through it, that it canāt be that bad, that itāll be worth it. sam smiles and nods and rolls his pencil up and down his desk because he doesnāt know how to put his anxiety into terms brady will recognize.
then friday comes and samās all up in knots, but thereās a little spark of adrenaline he hadnāt expected, some excitement bubbling low in his gut.
it starts when heās walking back to his dorm. someone comes up from behind and snakes two arms around him, trapping him in a hug, and a bandana gets tied over his eyes. his bag drops to the ground in the struggle and he hopes someone will pick it up because his laptop is in there and that thing costs more than heās willing to admit. but before he can say anything he gets a mouthful of fabric. he tries to fight a little for dignityās sake, knows he could get out of this hold real easy real quick if he wantedācould kick his heel back into a shin and wrap an ankle with his foot, use his weight to shift the gravity and throw the guy over his back onto the ground. but he doesnt, he lets himself be taken, thrown into the back of a car, face down on a leather bench seat. thereās a quick flash of restless nights in the impalaās backseat, snuggled up against his big brotherās side with a flashlight and a comic book, but itās gone before he can really grab onto it.
some rope or twine wraps around his wrists, tied tight digging into bone, hands bound and resting in the small of his back. the car starts movingāthe engine never stopped runningāand his abductors crank the music. itās some rap song samās never heard, loud and vibrating and he can hear them all singing along.
the drive is four minutes and thirty-six seconds, he knows theyāre at the frat house and it makes his stomach settle just a bit. but the peace doesnāt last long because the engine cuts and the door flies open and theyāre yanking him out of the backseat by his ankles. heās sliding on his stomach, thinks heās gonna fall face first onto the ground and crack his skull in half. he twists a little, tries to wrench his legs free to get them on solid ground, but then two strong arms come up under his chest and heās being thrown over a shoulder. its crazy uncomfortable, he thinks this guy must be six and a half feet tall with how easy heās carrying him.
samās stiff, core muscles working, hair tickling his forehead. his shoulders are starting to ache. some laughter, a couple words here and there, faint music somewhere distant, and then a door clicks open and the music comes through clearer. thereās some shouts of excitement, claps, someone rustles his hair and another one shoves at his side playful, then someone smacks the back of his thigh hard and he yelps through his gag, tenses, and feels his legs twitch, instinct kicking in.
heās thrown down on a mattress, can hear the squeak of rusted springs, feels the rumpled sheets under his back, can smell the tinge of sweat-musk and boyhood. he waits, doesnt move to sit up, chest heaving a little with the way heās sucking in air through his nose.
a minute goes by, some quiet murmurs and whispers, a cackle and a shushing sound, a scrape of wood on wood. then someone pulls the blindfold off and the dim light overhead brings the room into focus. the brothers are there, not all of them, just the main boys, the top dogs, mostly seniors, a couple juniors that were honorary or something. theyāre all smirking, grinning, eyeing him up and down like fresh meat and if dean were here heād make some vulgar joke about porn intros. but with a second glance over the room sam thinks that wouldnāt be too far off.
lukeāat least he thinks soāis sitting in a chair, legs spread wide, jeans obscenely taut at the crotch, a pair of scissors in his hand and the blindfold in the other. he drops it to the floor, leans forward.
thereās conversation he canāt quite make out, and samās confused until luke proposes to wave him of the pledge fee and the rest of hell week if he agrees to their terms. sam canāt help but ask what those terms entail, and when luke shakes his head, eyes hard, and the rest of the boys start laughing behind their hands, sam starts to get a little worried.
at first he thinks hell fucking no absolutely not no way, because he can guess from one-to-many bad jokes and having a pervert for an older brother what they actually want from him, but then he starts to think. thinks that this is what heās wanted this whole time, to be one of the guys, to do college things, be part of the scene and fit in. whatās more college than being in a frat?
he wonders if this is what the rest of the pledges have to deal with too, but he doesnāt think that can be right because they wouldnāt wave everyoneās fee. and it occurs to sam that theyāre giving him special treatment, that they picked him to offer this exchange too, and that makes his stomach flutter. they wanted him, not any of the others, they thought he was right for this role, and to be sought out like that feels so fucking good.
and so they ask him a couple more things, and in response thereās some attitude from sam to play it up, to seem like heās still putting up a fight. because he knows by the whole play of getting him here the way they did that they would take nicely to some resistanceāthatās what theyāre looking for.
thatās what gets them hot.
so he mouths off a bit for show. and then he says yes, and itās all heat and spit from there. the rest of the guys surge forward, hands roaming as luke starts cutting him out of his clothes. they push him back on the mattress and start splitting his shirt open slowly, teasingly. heās never known men like this to drag it out, always quick and chasing, eager with lust. but they take their time.
he can hear the rustling of jean, the soft groans as they start bringing themselves into half mast.
lukeās still sliding that metal tip along his chest, peeling his shirt away and licking his lips when samās nipples harden with the sudden cold air. samās chest is still heaving, lips parted, mouth dry, cock twitching. luke leans over him, braces himself on either side of sam, cocks his head and watches sam with a hunger he hadnāt expected. luke lifts one arm, leans his weight on the other, like heās idle now, just observing a budding flower.
heās got the scissors in his hand still, switches his grip, and then cold metal meets skin and lightly drags down from the dip in samās throat to his belly button. it circles, traces the line of hair that disappears below samās belt, then back up. it catches on a scar, slides over his ribs and then lukeās drawing slow spirals around a nipple, getting closer with each pass.
samās breath hitches, stutters in his chest. he arches a little, presses up into the touch and throws his head further back into the sheets, canāt help the little throaty groans that come out. luke angles the scissors and presses the tip of them to the side of that perky bud, draws it round and round until sam whines because fuck he canāt hold it in anymore. itās embarrassing, the way his voice pitches high and his dick chubs up a little more, trapped in his pants. heās barely been touched yet.
luke only hums, like heās cataloging samās reactions for another time, and drags the scissors away, back down samās stomach. he comments on the scars, and sam responds vaguely, shy and embarrassed and startled by the intrigueāand a little bratty when he scowls at one of the other guysā jokes. and luke leans in a little, gives samās cheek a light smack for it, raises an eyebrow and says he better behave. but he doesnāt elaborate on what would happen if sam didnāt behave, and the possibilities run through his head a mile a minute, guts twisting up.
the scissors drop to the floor and those hands come back, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding the zipper down. luke shimmies them down samās hipsāleaves his boxers onāand tugs them off and tosses them out of sight on the ground. samās nearly naked now, a chill on his skin and arousal burning in his stomach.
some of the boys trade whispers, glances between luke, sam, raking down over samās body laid out before them. and then luke grabs a pillow, flips Sam over onto his stomach ontop of it, hips lifted up high, ass in the air. and all at once samās red as can be, flushing from ears to toes. he presses his thighs together tight and squeezes his hands into fists where they rest against his back, still tied. heās got a cheek pressed into the sheets, hair in his eyes, and heās glad they can barely see his face because of it.
samās fully hard now, dripping like a whore in his underwear, thighs writhing back and forth, rubbing together like it just might spur them on. then someoneāluke probablyāis hooking fingers into the waist of his boxers and starts dragging them down. he lets them snap back against samās thighs, bunched up right under the swell of his ass. and holy fuck samās never been so turned on, so humiliated.
they start āinspecting the goodsā window shopping his body like they can take him apart for their own use. there are hands all over him now, touching feeling smoothing caressing scraping and groping. someone gets a handful of his asscheek, gropes hard and long, gets the other one in hand and spreads him open. he turns his face fully into the mattress, whines and feels the heat flush his chest, neck, cheeks.
those fingers start kneading, closing and opening, and then a thumb presses against that spot right under his balls. sam shouts, presses back into it, and that thumb rubs and circles, then drags up to his asshole. it settles right over the pucker, and after a second, presses down just enough to get sam all worked up, keening back into the touch, arching like a bitch in heat.
he can hear them all laughing, feels them all staring.
someone give him a sharp smack on the ass, and then all the hands are gone.
later he asks brady what happened with him and the other pledges. brady tells him it was some stupid game where they left them all blindfolded in the woods with the instructions to find their way out, and he asks why sam wasnāt there.
