#dicheal

“I can’t— zip up the dress…” It’s a little embarrassing having to say that to your boyfriend, but he looks understanding enough. He does a little twirling motion with his finger as he pushes your shoulder gently. 

“Turn.” 

You’ve been trying for more than 5 minutes. Trying not to get sweaty, or your hair will ruin. There’s no way the zipper would just work now with dean’s hands— oh. 

“Done. It was getting stuck on your bra.” 

Now that the dress is properly on, you look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. The dress is tight up near your chest, but flares out at the bottom. It only reaches the bottom of your thighs, pink and sparkling.

“You look pretty.” 

Dean leans against the bathroom door frame. He’s traded the usual dark hoodie for a classic dress shirt, but he’s still in dark jeans. In fact, if he wasn’t so good at hiding how he felt, you might’ve tagged him as uncomfortable. 

“Thank you. You look pretty too.” 

Dean flashes that boyish smile. There might be a bit of embarrassment hiding in there, but he tries not to show it. Deans never really had gotten compliments on his appearance from anyone, he doesn’t know how to receive them. 

“Now I’m ready.” 

“Fucking finally.” 

Michael strides into your room, he’s looking down at this phone but quickly pockets it in his classy slacks. 

“You were taking forever.” 

You cross your arms, looking up at Michael waiting for him to say something. Maybe about your sparkly dress, or perfect hair. 

“What?” Michael sees it, he always sees and knows what you want just by the look on your face. The accusatory glare you’re sending him makes his defenses crumble. 

“Okay, you look beautiful.” 

“Thank you. You look dashing, might I add.” 

“Don’t I know it.” 

Michael grabs at your hand, he leads it up before spinning you around once, looking you over, then pushing your back into his hold. Over your shoulder he looks at Dean, eyes scanning over the man, lingering on places you can only imagine. 

“He doesn’t look too bad huh?” He whispered in your neck, only his whisper was rather loud and it had Dean rolling his eyes. 

“Say it to my face.” 

It was made as a quick comment, wanting the last word. But Michael quickly detaches from you to grab at Deans wrist as he passes by. 

“You look nice.” 

It was so genuine coming out of Michael’s mouth, he let the facade of his face slip to see the real meaning behind it. Softening his features so you’d know it was true. It made Dean dizzy with a sheepish look on his face. 

“Thanks, you too.” 

You’re not one to fish for compliments or get jealous, but you did just spend a hour getting ready only for Dean and Michael to make out sloppy style later. Suppose you can’t get too upset.

Not when you get to watch. 

When Michael brought up knife play Dean was hesitant. Their Job at the FBI is to literally figure out why people use knives and cut up bodies, and now Michael is suggesting they do that? 

Dean’s scared he will hurt you. And with all his past trauma, it’s valid. But what’s most annoying to Dean, is how his pants get tight at the thought. 

And Michael knows this. He can see it on his face that he actually wants to see the glint of steel on your skin. Pushing in just enough to the soft flesh to where it pinches, but doesn’t break the skin. 

Needless to say, Michael always gets his way. 

So it’s no surprise— or, it’s a little bit of a surprise— when they both come into your room holding kitchen knifes at the dead of night. 

Dean gets settles behind you. Knife to your throat. Breath hitching while you can feel the sharp edge, and you know if you lean into it you’d bleed. 

But you can’t think about that when Michael is trailing the tip of his knife up your thigh. Leaving a red marks in its wake, but not pushing hard enough for blood. 

“No pants tonight?” 

“It’s hot.” You whine. But the truth is, you’ve been hoping they would sneak in. The past week you’ve been sleeping half naked, just for this. Because you talked it over with them and really wanted this.

Michael takes his knife and slides it underneath the sides of your underwear. Near your hips and cuts through them cleanly. You’re silently mourning the loss of your favorite panties, but you know Michael will replace them. If Dean annoys him enough.

“Look at this….” 

Your legs spread on instant and Michael’s gaze on you has you squirming. His hand does an experimental rub at your pussy before the handle end of the knife starts to rub at your clit. 

“So pretty baby….gonna break in this cunt real good.” 

“Don’t say it like that.” 

“And why not?” 

Damn it, they were arguing again. Even your naked body and breathless moans weren’t enough to stop their bickering. 

But their bickering didn’t stop their movements. Deans knife slips down. Instead of cutting your beloved shirt off like Michael, he pulls it up over your head. But as soon as it’s gone, the point of the knife goes to your hardening nipples. 

The tip of the knife is cold and sharp, and you’re just so sensitive. You don’t want to squirm in fear of getting cut, but theres little you can do when theres so much pleasure. 

“When I say I want a piece of this cunt, it can be true now. Because. you know. knife cutting.” 

“But we’re not actually going to cut you.” 

“Fuck, Dean you are such a worry wort.” 

The end of the knife Michael is holding suddenly slips inside you. You pulse around the hard wood of the handle while letting out a small moan. 

“If you have a problem with how I dirty talk why don’t you try it, mister vanilla.” 

You don’t have to see it to know Dean is rolling his eyes. But his face gets closer to yours. Whispering softly in your ear. 

“That’s right…You’re doing great, angel. Are you scared?” 

You trust them. You know they would never purposefully put you in danger. So you’re not scared of them. But the situation— the way the knife pinches your skin just enough to think it will draw blood is a little scary, anything could happen. So you nod. 

“Good” Dean whispers, and his chilling voice has a shiver going down your spine.

“does it feel good?”

“S’good.” You whine. Your slick soaking the tip of wooden handle making it easier to push in and out, making your head feel fuzzy with pleasure.

“yeah? How about you go a bit deeper, Michael.”

You can feel the slight nod of Dean’s head as he looks over your shoulder to see the knife going deeper inside. The blade is close, one wrong move and your slick could be their next Bloody Mary.

But despite the good feeling, hard and sturdy every time your walls flutter around wood. not even a real dick.

“please.” You whisper into the darkness.

“please, what?”

Michael’s teasing, he loves to tease. It gets annoying, but only in the sexy way. Not for Dean though, when you can feel him rolling his eyes.

“Please can I cum—”

your back arches after a particularly hard thrust and a flick at your breasts, you feel that rapid sensation swarming your lower stomach. It has you gasping for air, just to gain some sense of control.

You’re trying to turn slightly, enough to where your eyes catch Dean’s if you plead well enough, then you know he will give in. Always the generous one.

“Look at how pretty she is Michael, don’t leave our girl hanging.”

Michael rolls his eyes. He’s the one with the knife. The one who’s controlling your orgasms at the moment. Lia did say he should work on his generosity. So he does what he knows best, and hits that spot inside you perfectly, he’s careful and precise, he’d rather cut his own hand before ever hurting you.

“Fucking brat you are, letting Dean give you whatever you want. But fine, cum all over the knife for this little pussy’s pleasure.”

It doesn’t take long. Maybe one two more thrusts before your toes curl with that warm sensation in your lower stomach. You’re cumming all over a handle for fucks sake.

You know both of them have this sick pleasure of watching you get off on something that’s not even them, but are in control off.

“Thank you— thank you…” You breathe roughly and whimper softly as the knife pulls out of you. Dean is also kind enough to pull his knife away from your body, taking a moment for you to catch your breath, humming pleasantly.

“See? This is what happeneds when you go soft on our girl.”

Michael’s knife comes up to your cheek. The flat steel doesn’t hurt when he places it against your face, but it’s a knife and it makes you flinch.

“Already exhausted.”

“Dude stop that, you’re gonna cut her.” Dean swats at Michael’s hand after watching how you reacted towards it. But truth is you wouldn’t mind a little more.

“Yeah. She’d probably like that, huh?”

You look up at Michael, really take in his words to think them over later. But your silence is enough for him.

“That’s what I thought, dirty girl. Now come over here—“ he pats at his lap a couple times. “And if you do a good job sucking cock, I’ll consider not slitting your throat.”

“Michael.”

“Dean.”