Don't Say No, Supernatural, NC-17
Mar. 19th, 2008 09:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Don't Say No
Pairing/Characters: Dean, Sam, Dean/Sam (sorta), Sam/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4551
Summary: John disappeared and Dean is left to take care of Sam. When Dean gets himself into big trouble with a bad guy, it's up to Sam to bail him out. This is the sequel to Don't Go Out Tonight
A/Ns & Warnings: This is Hooker!fic. Dean is hooking to make money for him and Sam to live on. This is pimp!fic, in that Dean has to give Sam to the guy who he owes money. It is underage (Sam is 17). But it is consensual. There is also cross-dressing. This isn't "happy" hooker fic.
Sam didn’t get out of bed the morning after, other than a long hot shower near dawn.
Dean didn’t press. Didn’t say anything. Not until dinner. “Please eat.”
Sam sat up, but wouldn’t look at him. He took the bowl of soup without a word and at it methodically, then set the bowl on the bedside table and laid back down.
There wasn’t anything Dean could say or do. It wasn’t a situation he could fix.
Around eight he showered and got dressed. He didn’t want to go out, but he couldn’t bear the silence anymore…and they needed the money. He pocketed his keys and squatted by the bed. “I won’t be too late. Tomorrow will be better. Okay?”
Sam didn’t respond, didn’t move, not until Dean’s lips brushed his forehead. Then his hand caught Dean’s. “Promise?” His voice was so small.
Dean blinked back the tears and nodded. “Promise.”
“Okay.”
Sam pulled the blanket closer around him and closed his eyes. Dean left the apartment and tried to put the whole thing out of his mind. He had varying degrees of success with that as he worked a couple tricks and shot some pool. Even won a little money with a straight bet against a better player and a couple of lucky breaks.
Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with the bottle of whiskey when he came back. He didn’t look up, didn’t say anything. Dean headed in to shower, just like he always did.
When he came out, Sam hadn’t moved. “It’s late.” Dean said instinctively. He reached for the bottle. Obviously Sam had a few shots.
“Dad called.” Sam said, his voice dull.
Dean froze. “When?”
“A few hours ago. Said things got messy. Asked if we were okay.”
“What did you say?”
Sam shook his head, took a deep breath and lifted the shot in front of him, draining it before looking up. “I told him we were fine.”
“He coming back?” Dean held his breath. If his father came back now…if his father found out what they’d been forced to do to survive…
“A few weeks, he said.” Sam stood and set his glass back down on the table. “I’m gonna shower.”
Dean nodded. He didn’t move until the door was shut, and then it was just to put the bottle away. He stood staring at the bathroom door for a long time before he gave up and headed for the bed.
He listened to the water run, and what sounded vaguely like crying. Then he listened as Sam made his way to bed, turning off lights as he came. When he crawled into bed beside him, Sam curled toward him, his hands seeking out Dean’s and holding it up under his chin like he used to when they were little and he was afraid to admit he was afraid.
Dean kissed his forehead. “We can still run.”
Sam shook his head. “No.” He blinked, looked up at Dean. “If we try, he’ll kill you. You know that.”
“I won’t let him hurt you.”
“I’m okay. I just…today was hard. I can do this.”
“I never wanted you to.”
Sam was quiet for a minute. “You…you did it for me. The first time, I mean. We couldn’t pay the rent and we didn’t have any food…and I was scared.”
“Sam…you don’t owe me anything.” Dean shook his head and brushed the hair out of Sam’s eyes with his free hand.
“Yes, I do. I owe you everything. All my life you’ve taken care of me. This is my turn. To take care of you.” He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Dean’s hand. “You want to know what’s really stupid?”
“What?” Dean leaned in, kissed his fingers.
“I have to go to school tomorrow…and I’m terrified that everyone will know.”
Dean closed his eyes. “Not stupid. Normal.” Like any of this was normal. “Just be yourself, it’ll be fine. Just fine. Sleep. Tomorrow will be better.”
Sam finished his breakfast and put the bowl in the sink. Dean sat up in bed. “You okay?”
Sam nodded. He was edgy and uncertain, but better than he’d been the day before.
“Come straight home after school, okay?”
“Yeah. No worries.” He grabbed his book bag and opened the door, then froze. On the ground in front of the door was a bag.
“Sam?”
It took him a minute, but he reached down and grabbed the bag and stepped back into the apartment. He held it up so Dean could see it. He was up and out of bed in an instant, scratching his hand through his hair. “Leave it. Just leave it and go to school.”
Sam shook his head. “What if…what if he wants me…like…like…you know…early?” He moved to put the bag on the table and licked his lips. “I should at least check the note, right?”
Dean reached for the bag. “Let me.”
Part of him wanted to let him, but this was his job, his duty. He pulled the bag to him and opened it, reaching inside for the paper. He licked his lips and took a deep breath before he unfolded it.
“Five o’clock.” Sam’s eyes scanned the rest of the note. His hands were shaking. “Five at the club, his office. We have to…go through the club.” He cleared his throat and Dean grabbed the paper, his eyes scanning over it.
“No…Sam, he’s asking too much.”
Sam dumped the contents of the bag onto the table. There was a red leather mini-skirt and a pair of heels, more makeup and a blouse that consisted almost entirely of red lace and sequins, though it was filled with holes. He was going to look like a cheap junkie whore.
The note said to expect this time to take longer, and that maybe he should have Dean give him some pointers on how to suck cock.
Sam ran a hand over his face. He didn’t want to think about it. “I…I gotta go. I’ve got a test.”
Dean called his name, but Sam shook his head and bolted out the door. If he had to think about it…if he had to remember, he wouldn’t make it through the day. Already he felt dirty and wanted to shower. He could do that after first period. Go to the gym. He could shower and be okay.
Dean licked his lips as the door shut and went for the jeans he’d been wearing the night before. He’d made a couple hundred dollars. Maybe.
Mosely wasn’t really known to be reasonable.
But Dean had to try. He pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, rummaged in Sam’s drawer for his money. With his three hundred and the nearly three Dean had made the night before…maybe.
He set out to find Mosely and convince him that this was better for all of them.
He found Mosely having breakfast at his favorite restaurant, surrounded by the usual thugs and whores.
“Can we talk?”
“Well, well…what brings the older brother out to see me this morning? I trust Sam found his delivery?”
“Yeah, we got it.” Dean cleared his throat. “Look, that’s kinda why I’m here. I put together some money, and—“
Mosely gestured for him to come closer. “Now, why would I want your money? Your brother has it all under control. He and I have an arrangement, a deal.” He cut into the steak on his plate and rubbed a piece of it through the runny eggs. “You coming here like this makes me think maybe Sam’s thinking about breaking the deal. You, of all people, know what that means, don’t you?”
Dean backed off. “No one’s breaking any deals, Mosely. I was just hoping to…adjust the deal.”
“You got everything you owe me?” Mosely looked up at him over his sun glasses.
“Well. No. I got about six—“
“Only way to adjust the deal I have with your brother is if you can pay the whole thing off. Otherwise, I’ll see Sweetcheeks tonight.”
“Why not just take me?” Dean asked. “Why do this?”
Mosely’s grin was evil. “I think that should be obvious, Dean. Because I can. Because I knew the minute I laid on eyes on his sweet, virgin ass that he’d do anything to save you.” He pulled his sun glasses off and gestured at Dean with them. “And I knew you’d let him too.”
Somehow he got through the day. He didn’t remember most of it and he was fairly certain he bombed his science test, and he’d ducked into the locker room twice to shower…but he made it through.
He dragged his feet going home. He shouldn’t, and he knew it. They couldn’t be late. If they were late, Mosely would get angry. Sam was pretty sure that was something they didn’t want.
The smell of food wafted through the open window of the apartment. Not their normal seventy five cent hot dogs from the vendor on the corner either. It smelled like…beef. Like steak.
Frowning, Sam opened the door. Dean looked up from where he was putting plates on the table. “What’s all this?”
“Dinner. Eat up.”
“We don’t have time for this. Not to mention the money.”
“Forget the money. Eat.”
“You did something.” Sam came and sat, but watched Dean as he poured a glass of milk and put it in front of him. “What did you do?”
Dean shook his head. “Nothing.” He sat and Sam stared until he sighed and put his fork down. “I went to see Mosely. Tried to give him some money.”
Dean wouldn’t look at him. “He wouldn’t take it.” Sam didn’t think he would. Not when he was getting what he wanted from Sam.
“No. He wouldn’t. I tried though Sam. I tried.”
Sam grabbed his hand and squeezed. “I know you did. Thanks.”
He turned to his plate then, eating quickly. They really didn’t have much time. When he’d scarfed down most of his steak and potatoes, Sam lurched up.
“Where’s the stuff?”
“Bathroom.” Sam nodded and headed in to dress. The skirt was tight and small and it made his ass look rounder than he thought it was supposed to. The heels were ridiculous, and made him look like he was all legs. They were only two inches or so, but with his big feet all crammed inside them, they felt clumsy and awkward. He pulled the shirt on.
It was two sizes too small and it stretched over his torso, hanging off his shoulders. The holes stretched too, letting his nipples poke through the ripped lace. Sam stared at himself in the mirror. He looked ridiculous.
He opened the makeup bag and fumbled his way through eyeliner and blush and lipstick. This time the lipstick was bright red. Sam smeared it over his lips.
It was obscene.
“Sam, we’re gonna be late.”
“Yeah.” He pulled the door open and clumsily walked out.
“Damn.”
Sam couldn’t look up. “Don’t. Okay?”
Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, right. You want me to…um…”
Sam looked at his brother, at the bottle of lube in his hand. “He said…I mean…”
“Better prepared than not. Trust me.”
Blow job. The note had said blow job. Dean was still coming toward him with the lube. Sam licked his lips. He was starting to breathe heavy. He was beginning to panic. He had to get it under control.
Dean was right, of course. It was better to be prepared. Sam clenched his fist and nodded tightly, moving to the table. Dean’s hand was gentle, but it didn’t keep Sam from tensing up. “You need to relax or he’ll hurt you.” Dean murmured softly, his lips near Sam’s ear.
Relax. Sam wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do that dressed like this and knowing what was waiting for him…not to mention that his brother had three fingers up inside him. Because that…was not relaxing. Somehow it was arousing, and wrong. And possibly more arousing because of how wrong it was.
Sam jerked himself away from Dean. “Enough. We gotta go.” He smoothed the skirt down, tugged on it to try to cover more of himself. He felt naked and exposed and ridiculous. He shoved his arms into the coat sleeves and pulled it closed around him.
They weren’t a hundred yards from the apartment door when Sam stopped and stepped out of the shoes. There was no way he was walking all the way there in the damn things.
People were staring at them. It was broad daylight and even with the coat on, it was obvious…he was obvious. Dean did what he could to shield him, but that wasn’t any better. By the time they’d made the front of the club, Sam was as red as his skirt.
Dean ran his hands down Sam’s arms. “It’s early, so the club isn’t going to be busy. We don’t look up, just head straight to the office, get it over with so we can go home. Okay?”
Sam closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He nodded and put the shoes back on the ground, stepping into them and balancing himself on Dean’s shoulder. He shrugged out of the coat and handed it to Dean as his brother opened the door. Sam stepped into the darkened club.
The door closed behind them and Sam had to pause to let his eyes adjust. It wasn’t busy, but every eye in the place, even the stripper on stage, turned to look at them. Dean tugged on his arm and Sam stumbled forward, through the bar area and into the back. A big guy stood outside the office door and held up his hand.
“Mr. Aims has relocated to the private booth.”
“He said his office.” Sam said without looking up.
“And he changed his mind.” The man pointed with one meaty finger.
Dean pushed him a little to get him moving. Sam stumbled along, stopping at the door to the private booth. The flunky outside the door grinned appreciatively and knocked at the door. “Mr. Aims, your…date…is here.”
The door opened and Dean led Sam inside.
The room was small, lined with leather couches. Purple leather couches. The walls were red velvet and the floors were covered in some psychedelic carpet that would be nauseating if Sam stared at it for long. It was like some lewd, horrific nightmare place.
Mosely was seated face the giant window facing into the club. It was one of those mirror on one side, window on the other things…so the people in the booth could watch the goings on in the club, but the club patrons couldn’t see into the booth. He was alone, other than the flunky at the door.
His eyes flicked to Sam, then Dean. The door closed. Sam shifted, uncertain. Mosely spread his legs. “You.” He pointed at Dean. “Sit. Over there.” He pointed to the corner. “You, get over here on your knees.”
Sam watched Dean go and licked his lips. It was only two steps. He could do two steps. He went to one knee hesitantly, then inched a little closer, dropping his second knee to the floor.
“Wanna watch those pretty lips slide over my cock, Sweetcheeks.”
Sam pressed his lips together unconsciously and nodded. “Oh…okay.”
Mosely raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall asking. Get on with it.”
Sam’s hands were shaking as he reached for his zipper. He’d never really handled a cock that wasn’t his own. Not…ever. He unzipped and Mosely’s cock peeked out at him. He reached for it slowly, daring a glance at Dean.
“It aint gonna break.” Mosely reached in and pulled it out. It bobbed, hardening even as Mosely’s hand slid up and off it. “Better make it good, little girl.”
Sam didn’t have a clue what was good. He’d only ever had his own cock touched once, by a girl who was more interested in her own orgasm than his. He looked at it, thought about what might feel good. He knew what he liked when he was whacking off…but didn’t think that would apply.
He leaned in, his movements jerky and uncertain. He started with his tongue, moving it over the top. He glanced up, but Mosely was looking out at the dancer on the stage. At least he knew it wasn’t the wrong thing.
Sam opened his mouth and closed it over the tip, sucking lightly, swirling his tongue over the tip again. Mosely’s hand fell on the back of his head and pushed. Sam’s mouth moved down his cock and when the pressure let up, he slid back up.
He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands and there was an odd breeze under the skirt. Mosely pushed again and Sam felt a bit of panic as his cock invaded Sam’s mouth deeper than he’d intended.
Dean was watching. Sam could feel his eyes. If he let himself, he could imagine Dean’s hands on his ass earlier…the way it made him hard. Sam closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He just had to get through this.
He took a deep breath and rose up some on his knees to improve his angle. He could do this. He pressed his legs to Mosely’s thighs, slid his mouth off, licked up the underside, then down to his balls. Dean liked having his balls played with. Sam knew because he’d listened to his big brother talk about sex a lot.
Sam flicked his tongue over Mosely’s balls a time or two, then opened his mouth and descended over his cock, as deep as he thought he could. The thick cock filled his mouth, stretching his lips and Sam sucked in, hollowing out his cheeks and holding it deep for a second before he started sliding back up.
He swirled his tongue around at the top of the stroke, then slid back down fast. He moved up slow, then descended again. Mosely’s hand was still on the back of his head, though now it was just resting there.
Sam dared a look up. He wasn’t watching the dancer anymore. His eyes were closed and his hips twitched. They came up off the couch, thrusting into Sam once, twice…then Mosely’s hand was fisting in his hair, pushing Sam back as he stood, shoving his cock into his fast rapidly until his whole body shook and Sam’s mouth flooded with come.
Mosely glowered down at him. “You better swallow that, bitch.”
Sam almost couldn’t, gagging on softening cock and salty, bitter come, but he managed a swallow, then another. Mosely pulled back, fell back to the couch. “Little bitch’s a natural.” Mosely said, tossing the comment at Dean.
Sam glanced his way, nodding a little to tell his brother he was okay. Dean started to get up.
“Sit your ass down.” Mosely said, though his eyes never left the dancer on the stage.
“I thought…” Sam looked up at him.
Mosely’s grin was sly. “Told you it would take a while. I ain’t done.”
“But…I…”
“Relax, enjoy the show.”
“Three times. You said three times.”
Mosely’s hand petted his hair. “Yes, your ass, my dick. Three times.”
“Then…what was that?”
Mosely pulled his eyes away from the window and looked at Sam. “That was a damn fine first blow job. You should be proud. I’ll make you a hot little whore yet. Give your big brother a run for the money.” He stopped petting and grinned. “Maybe you two could team up. I hear there’s a market out there for hot brother asses.”
Sam fumed. He pulled away, got to his feet, but not before his nearly hard cock flashed out from under the skirt. Mosely laughed. “You hard, baby? Want me to take the edge off for you?” He reached for Sam, but Sam pulled away.
“Fuck you.”
Mosely’s smile was slow and lazy. “Patience, sugar. The night is young. Come sit down.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You wanna blow our deal? Fine by me. I’ll just take it out of your brother’s skin in the morning.” Mosely sat back and stretched his legs out in front of him.
Sam paced…over to the door, the corner. He was furious and ashamed and embarrassed. The fucker had played him. Played him good.
Dean was across the room and at his side, his eyes telling Sam they should go. Sam shook his head. Covered Dean’s mouth. If he said a word it was over. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, Dean’s face was filly with fury. “It’s okay.” Sam whispered. Dean shook his head and pointed at the door. “We’ll stay.” Sam kissed Dean’s forehead, then froze. His cock brushed Dean’s thigh.
Dean’s eyebrow shot up and it was Sam’s turn to shake his head. “It’s nothing.” Because Sam wasn’t sure which would be worse, Dean thinking Sam had gotten hard sucking the fucker’s cock, or Dean knowing it was because Sam was thinking about Dean’s fingers fucking his ass.
“You better get your ass on over here, I’m getting lonely.” Sam licked his lips and went back to Mosely, who patted the seat beside him. Sam sat, trying to adjust the skirt to cover his naked ass and not really succeeding.
Dean slowly went back to the corner and perched on the couch like he was ready to fly off it and beat the shit out of Mosely.
Mosely slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulled him in so he was half laying across Mosely, then promptly seemed to forget Sam was even there. Dancers came and went on the stage. A waitress brought in drinks. Mosely never tucked his cock back in and it showed various signs of interest as time passed.
Sam was beginning to think it would never happen, then Mosely shifted, looked at Sam, then down at his cock. It seemed to harden just like that. Mosely brought his legs together and pushed Sam up. “Now?” Sam asked, his voice all breathy and scratchy.
“Now. Hike up that skirt and fuck yourself.”
Sam looked to Dean, then down at Mosely. “What?”
Mosely patted his thighs. “Sit on my lap little girl.” He grinned.
“I…” Sam nodded. He stood. Mosely’s cock was dark and hard and he held the base, making it point up. Sam moved, turned his back to the big guy and bunched up the skirt. It had been hours since Dean had prepped him…it was probably dry. It was going to hurt.
Sam reached for the cock as he straddled Mosely’s legs and slowly squatted. His thighs burned. Sam’s eyes were closed as he guided the tip toward his hole. He couldn’t look at Dean, couldn’t think about the way his own cock was hanging out there, still half hard.
The tip pushed into him. Sam let out a shaky breath. He had to reach back and brace himself on Mosely’s shoulder. Then there was a hand on his face. He looked up. Dean was there, in front of him, arms folded and held out for Sam to grab. He grabbed Dean’s forearms and held onto him, lowering himself again.
Mosely seemed bigger than the first time…or maybe it was the angle…or maybe it was because he was making Sam do it, instead of just taking him like he had before. It took three tries to get it fully inside him, and he paused there, sitting on Mosely’s lap with his cock up Sam’s ass. He could scarcely breathe.
Dean’s arms moved up, encouraging Sam to move. It burned, almost more the second time. Sam rose up and sank down, holding Dean’s arms for leverage, leaning forward toward his brother. He let his mind wander…let himself imagine that this was someone other than Mosely…someone…fuck. He’d leaned a little more and Mosely’s cock hit that same spot Dean had the first time he’d prepped Sam.
Sam’s cock definitely liked that spot. It was full on hard now and Sam was sweating, panting. He needed Mosely to finish. Needed to get out of there before he knew. Before he saw.
Sam glanced up at Dean. Dean’s eyes were squarely on Sam’s face. Sam nodded. He tried to move faster, to clench his ass around the cock moving in and out of him.
Mosely grunted, his hips rising up to meet Sam’s movement. It wouldn’t be long now. His hands came to Sam’s hips and pushed him down hard as his cock seemed to swell and started spewing come. He pushed up twice, then pushed Sam up and into Dean’s arms.
Sam gasped and struggled to get the skirt down before either of them could see how hard he was. Mosely slapped Sam’s ass and laughed. “One hot ass.” His finger penetrated Sam, squelching on the abundance of come inside him, then he pulled it out and dragged it down Sam’s thigh.
“Make sure I can watch you as you leave.”
Sam made a beeline for the door, with Dean behind him. He could feel come leaking out his ass, down his thigh. He was hyperventilating, pushing through the crowd that had gathered while they’d been in the booth. He got out the door and three steps away before he was tripping on the heels and stopped, turning to face the wall and kicking the shoes off and trying hard not to start bawling right there on the street.
Dean caught up to him, grabbing him around the shoulders and dragging him into the alley. “Sam. Sam.” His hands pulled Sam’s face up, his lips pressed to Sam’s cheek.
“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.” Sam was shaking, shivering. His cock pushed against the leather of the skirt and his hands moved to cradle it. Tears leaked onto his cheeks and Dean kissed them away.
“Shh…shhh…Let me.” Dean’s hand slithered down Sam’s arm, down under the skirt and closed around Sam’s cock. Sam stiffened, shuddered.
“Dean.”
Dean’s lips pressed against his. “Don’t say no.” Dean whispered, pulling his hand along Sam’s dick. “Don’t say no. Let me do this.”
His hand stroked, warm, the calloused skin making Sam gasp as his thumb swiped over the tip, over the slit. Sam’s hands closed on Dean’s upper arms, His breath shuddered. This was so much different than when he did it himself. Hot. Wrong. “Fuck.”
Sam’s brain stopped. Just stopped and he shuddered as his orgasm started. His come spilled onto the dirty pavement between his brother’s feet and Sam just leaned into Dean, gasping for air.
Dean soothed the skirt down, slipped the coat up and over Sam’s shoulders, rubbing over his back. “Let’s get you home.”
Sam let Dean guide him, lead him. Numb. At least until they got inside and Dean had let go of him. Then he felt cold. “Shower.”
Sam nodded, shrugging off the coat and heading into the bathroom. He stood under the water until it ran cold, then a little longer. When he got out, Dean had left him a clean pair of sweats. Dean met him in the kitchen with a shot of whiskey, then walked him to the bed. “Sleep Sam. It’ll be over soon.”
Sleep. Sam closed his eyes. Over. Somehow, he didn’t think it would ever be over.
Title: Don't Say No
Pairing/Characters: Dean, Sam, Dean/Sam (sorta), Sam/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4551
Summary: John disappeared and Dean is left to take care of Sam. When Dean gets himself into big trouble with a bad guy, it's up to Sam to bail him out. This is the sequel to Don't Go Out Tonight
A/Ns & Warnings: This is Hooker!fic. Dean is hooking to make money for him and Sam to live on. This is pimp!fic, in that Dean has to give Sam to the guy who he owes money. It is underage (Sam is 17). But it is consensual. There is also cross-dressing. This isn't "happy" hooker fic.
Sam didn’t get out of bed the morning after, other than a long hot shower near dawn.
Dean didn’t press. Didn’t say anything. Not until dinner. “Please eat.”
Sam sat up, but wouldn’t look at him. He took the bowl of soup without a word and at it methodically, then set the bowl on the bedside table and laid back down.
There wasn’t anything Dean could say or do. It wasn’t a situation he could fix.
Around eight he showered and got dressed. He didn’t want to go out, but he couldn’t bear the silence anymore…and they needed the money. He pocketed his keys and squatted by the bed. “I won’t be too late. Tomorrow will be better. Okay?”
Sam didn’t respond, didn’t move, not until Dean’s lips brushed his forehead. Then his hand caught Dean’s. “Promise?” His voice was so small.
Dean blinked back the tears and nodded. “Promise.”
“Okay.”
Sam pulled the blanket closer around him and closed his eyes. Dean left the apartment and tried to put the whole thing out of his mind. He had varying degrees of success with that as he worked a couple tricks and shot some pool. Even won a little money with a straight bet against a better player and a couple of lucky breaks.
Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with the bottle of whiskey when he came back. He didn’t look up, didn’t say anything. Dean headed in to shower, just like he always did.
When he came out, Sam hadn’t moved. “It’s late.” Dean said instinctively. He reached for the bottle. Obviously Sam had a few shots.
“Dad called.” Sam said, his voice dull.
Dean froze. “When?”
“A few hours ago. Said things got messy. Asked if we were okay.”
“What did you say?”
Sam shook his head, took a deep breath and lifted the shot in front of him, draining it before looking up. “I told him we were fine.”
“He coming back?” Dean held his breath. If his father came back now…if his father found out what they’d been forced to do to survive…
“A few weeks, he said.” Sam stood and set his glass back down on the table. “I’m gonna shower.”
Dean nodded. He didn’t move until the door was shut, and then it was just to put the bottle away. He stood staring at the bathroom door for a long time before he gave up and headed for the bed.
He listened to the water run, and what sounded vaguely like crying. Then he listened as Sam made his way to bed, turning off lights as he came. When he crawled into bed beside him, Sam curled toward him, his hands seeking out Dean’s and holding it up under his chin like he used to when they were little and he was afraid to admit he was afraid.
Dean kissed his forehead. “We can still run.”
Sam shook his head. “No.” He blinked, looked up at Dean. “If we try, he’ll kill you. You know that.”
“I won’t let him hurt you.”
“I’m okay. I just…today was hard. I can do this.”
“I never wanted you to.”
Sam was quiet for a minute. “You…you did it for me. The first time, I mean. We couldn’t pay the rent and we didn’t have any food…and I was scared.”
“Sam…you don’t owe me anything.” Dean shook his head and brushed the hair out of Sam’s eyes with his free hand.
“Yes, I do. I owe you everything. All my life you’ve taken care of me. This is my turn. To take care of you.” He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Dean’s hand. “You want to know what’s really stupid?”
“What?” Dean leaned in, kissed his fingers.
“I have to go to school tomorrow…and I’m terrified that everyone will know.”
Dean closed his eyes. “Not stupid. Normal.” Like any of this was normal. “Just be yourself, it’ll be fine. Just fine. Sleep. Tomorrow will be better.”
Sam finished his breakfast and put the bowl in the sink. Dean sat up in bed. “You okay?”
Sam nodded. He was edgy and uncertain, but better than he’d been the day before.
“Come straight home after school, okay?”
“Yeah. No worries.” He grabbed his book bag and opened the door, then froze. On the ground in front of the door was a bag.
“Sam?”
It took him a minute, but he reached down and grabbed the bag and stepped back into the apartment. He held it up so Dean could see it. He was up and out of bed in an instant, scratching his hand through his hair. “Leave it. Just leave it and go to school.”
Sam shook his head. “What if…what if he wants me…like…like…you know…early?” He moved to put the bag on the table and licked his lips. “I should at least check the note, right?”
Dean reached for the bag. “Let me.”
Part of him wanted to let him, but this was his job, his duty. He pulled the bag to him and opened it, reaching inside for the paper. He licked his lips and took a deep breath before he unfolded it.
“Five o’clock.” Sam’s eyes scanned the rest of the note. His hands were shaking. “Five at the club, his office. We have to…go through the club.” He cleared his throat and Dean grabbed the paper, his eyes scanning over it.
“No…Sam, he’s asking too much.”
Sam dumped the contents of the bag onto the table. There was a red leather mini-skirt and a pair of heels, more makeup and a blouse that consisted almost entirely of red lace and sequins, though it was filled with holes. He was going to look like a cheap junkie whore.
The note said to expect this time to take longer, and that maybe he should have Dean give him some pointers on how to suck cock.
Sam ran a hand over his face. He didn’t want to think about it. “I…I gotta go. I’ve got a test.”
Dean called his name, but Sam shook his head and bolted out the door. If he had to think about it…if he had to remember, he wouldn’t make it through the day. Already he felt dirty and wanted to shower. He could do that after first period. Go to the gym. He could shower and be okay.
Dean licked his lips as the door shut and went for the jeans he’d been wearing the night before. He’d made a couple hundred dollars. Maybe.
Mosely wasn’t really known to be reasonable.
But Dean had to try. He pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, rummaged in Sam’s drawer for his money. With his three hundred and the nearly three Dean had made the night before…maybe.
He set out to find Mosely and convince him that this was better for all of them.
He found Mosely having breakfast at his favorite restaurant, surrounded by the usual thugs and whores.
“Can we talk?”
“Well, well…what brings the older brother out to see me this morning? I trust Sam found his delivery?”
“Yeah, we got it.” Dean cleared his throat. “Look, that’s kinda why I’m here. I put together some money, and—“
Mosely gestured for him to come closer. “Now, why would I want your money? Your brother has it all under control. He and I have an arrangement, a deal.” He cut into the steak on his plate and rubbed a piece of it through the runny eggs. “You coming here like this makes me think maybe Sam’s thinking about breaking the deal. You, of all people, know what that means, don’t you?”
Dean backed off. “No one’s breaking any deals, Mosely. I was just hoping to…adjust the deal.”
“You got everything you owe me?” Mosely looked up at him over his sun glasses.
“Well. No. I got about six—“
“Only way to adjust the deal I have with your brother is if you can pay the whole thing off. Otherwise, I’ll see Sweetcheeks tonight.”
“Why not just take me?” Dean asked. “Why do this?”
Mosely’s grin was evil. “I think that should be obvious, Dean. Because I can. Because I knew the minute I laid on eyes on his sweet, virgin ass that he’d do anything to save you.” He pulled his sun glasses off and gestured at Dean with them. “And I knew you’d let him too.”
Somehow he got through the day. He didn’t remember most of it and he was fairly certain he bombed his science test, and he’d ducked into the locker room twice to shower…but he made it through.
He dragged his feet going home. He shouldn’t, and he knew it. They couldn’t be late. If they were late, Mosely would get angry. Sam was pretty sure that was something they didn’t want.
The smell of food wafted through the open window of the apartment. Not their normal seventy five cent hot dogs from the vendor on the corner either. It smelled like…beef. Like steak.
Frowning, Sam opened the door. Dean looked up from where he was putting plates on the table. “What’s all this?”
“Dinner. Eat up.”
“We don’t have time for this. Not to mention the money.”
“Forget the money. Eat.”
“You did something.” Sam came and sat, but watched Dean as he poured a glass of milk and put it in front of him. “What did you do?”
Dean shook his head. “Nothing.” He sat and Sam stared until he sighed and put his fork down. “I went to see Mosely. Tried to give him some money.”
Dean wouldn’t look at him. “He wouldn’t take it.” Sam didn’t think he would. Not when he was getting what he wanted from Sam.
“No. He wouldn’t. I tried though Sam. I tried.”
Sam grabbed his hand and squeezed. “I know you did. Thanks.”
He turned to his plate then, eating quickly. They really didn’t have much time. When he’d scarfed down most of his steak and potatoes, Sam lurched up.
“Where’s the stuff?”
“Bathroom.” Sam nodded and headed in to dress. The skirt was tight and small and it made his ass look rounder than he thought it was supposed to. The heels were ridiculous, and made him look like he was all legs. They were only two inches or so, but with his big feet all crammed inside them, they felt clumsy and awkward. He pulled the shirt on.
It was two sizes too small and it stretched over his torso, hanging off his shoulders. The holes stretched too, letting his nipples poke through the ripped lace. Sam stared at himself in the mirror. He looked ridiculous.
He opened the makeup bag and fumbled his way through eyeliner and blush and lipstick. This time the lipstick was bright red. Sam smeared it over his lips.
It was obscene.
“Sam, we’re gonna be late.”
“Yeah.” He pulled the door open and clumsily walked out.
“Damn.”
Sam couldn’t look up. “Don’t. Okay?”
Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, right. You want me to…um…”
Sam looked at his brother, at the bottle of lube in his hand. “He said…I mean…”
“Better prepared than not. Trust me.”
Blow job. The note had said blow job. Dean was still coming toward him with the lube. Sam licked his lips. He was starting to breathe heavy. He was beginning to panic. He had to get it under control.
Dean was right, of course. It was better to be prepared. Sam clenched his fist and nodded tightly, moving to the table. Dean’s hand was gentle, but it didn’t keep Sam from tensing up. “You need to relax or he’ll hurt you.” Dean murmured softly, his lips near Sam’s ear.
Relax. Sam wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do that dressed like this and knowing what was waiting for him…not to mention that his brother had three fingers up inside him. Because that…was not relaxing. Somehow it was arousing, and wrong. And possibly more arousing because of how wrong it was.
Sam jerked himself away from Dean. “Enough. We gotta go.” He smoothed the skirt down, tugged on it to try to cover more of himself. He felt naked and exposed and ridiculous. He shoved his arms into the coat sleeves and pulled it closed around him.
They weren’t a hundred yards from the apartment door when Sam stopped and stepped out of the shoes. There was no way he was walking all the way there in the damn things.
People were staring at them. It was broad daylight and even with the coat on, it was obvious…he was obvious. Dean did what he could to shield him, but that wasn’t any better. By the time they’d made the front of the club, Sam was as red as his skirt.
Dean ran his hands down Sam’s arms. “It’s early, so the club isn’t going to be busy. We don’t look up, just head straight to the office, get it over with so we can go home. Okay?”
Sam closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He nodded and put the shoes back on the ground, stepping into them and balancing himself on Dean’s shoulder. He shrugged out of the coat and handed it to Dean as his brother opened the door. Sam stepped into the darkened club.
The door closed behind them and Sam had to pause to let his eyes adjust. It wasn’t busy, but every eye in the place, even the stripper on stage, turned to look at them. Dean tugged on his arm and Sam stumbled forward, through the bar area and into the back. A big guy stood outside the office door and held up his hand.
“Mr. Aims has relocated to the private booth.”
“He said his office.” Sam said without looking up.
“And he changed his mind.” The man pointed with one meaty finger.
Dean pushed him a little to get him moving. Sam stumbled along, stopping at the door to the private booth. The flunky outside the door grinned appreciatively and knocked at the door. “Mr. Aims, your…date…is here.”
The door opened and Dean led Sam inside.
The room was small, lined with leather couches. Purple leather couches. The walls were red velvet and the floors were covered in some psychedelic carpet that would be nauseating if Sam stared at it for long. It was like some lewd, horrific nightmare place.
Mosely was seated face the giant window facing into the club. It was one of those mirror on one side, window on the other things…so the people in the booth could watch the goings on in the club, but the club patrons couldn’t see into the booth. He was alone, other than the flunky at the door.
His eyes flicked to Sam, then Dean. The door closed. Sam shifted, uncertain. Mosely spread his legs. “You.” He pointed at Dean. “Sit. Over there.” He pointed to the corner. “You, get over here on your knees.”
Sam watched Dean go and licked his lips. It was only two steps. He could do two steps. He went to one knee hesitantly, then inched a little closer, dropping his second knee to the floor.
“Wanna watch those pretty lips slide over my cock, Sweetcheeks.”
Sam pressed his lips together unconsciously and nodded. “Oh…okay.”
Mosely raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall asking. Get on with it.”
Sam’s hands were shaking as he reached for his zipper. He’d never really handled a cock that wasn’t his own. Not…ever. He unzipped and Mosely’s cock peeked out at him. He reached for it slowly, daring a glance at Dean.
“It aint gonna break.” Mosely reached in and pulled it out. It bobbed, hardening even as Mosely’s hand slid up and off it. “Better make it good, little girl.”
Sam didn’t have a clue what was good. He’d only ever had his own cock touched once, by a girl who was more interested in her own orgasm than his. He looked at it, thought about what might feel good. He knew what he liked when he was whacking off…but didn’t think that would apply.
He leaned in, his movements jerky and uncertain. He started with his tongue, moving it over the top. He glanced up, but Mosely was looking out at the dancer on the stage. At least he knew it wasn’t the wrong thing.
Sam opened his mouth and closed it over the tip, sucking lightly, swirling his tongue over the tip again. Mosely’s hand fell on the back of his head and pushed. Sam’s mouth moved down his cock and when the pressure let up, he slid back up.
He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands and there was an odd breeze under the skirt. Mosely pushed again and Sam felt a bit of panic as his cock invaded Sam’s mouth deeper than he’d intended.
Dean was watching. Sam could feel his eyes. If he let himself, he could imagine Dean’s hands on his ass earlier…the way it made him hard. Sam closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He just had to get through this.
He took a deep breath and rose up some on his knees to improve his angle. He could do this. He pressed his legs to Mosely’s thighs, slid his mouth off, licked up the underside, then down to his balls. Dean liked having his balls played with. Sam knew because he’d listened to his big brother talk about sex a lot.
Sam flicked his tongue over Mosely’s balls a time or two, then opened his mouth and descended over his cock, as deep as he thought he could. The thick cock filled his mouth, stretching his lips and Sam sucked in, hollowing out his cheeks and holding it deep for a second before he started sliding back up.
He swirled his tongue around at the top of the stroke, then slid back down fast. He moved up slow, then descended again. Mosely’s hand was still on the back of his head, though now it was just resting there.
Sam dared a look up. He wasn’t watching the dancer anymore. His eyes were closed and his hips twitched. They came up off the couch, thrusting into Sam once, twice…then Mosely’s hand was fisting in his hair, pushing Sam back as he stood, shoving his cock into his fast rapidly until his whole body shook and Sam’s mouth flooded with come.
Mosely glowered down at him. “You better swallow that, bitch.”
Sam almost couldn’t, gagging on softening cock and salty, bitter come, but he managed a swallow, then another. Mosely pulled back, fell back to the couch. “Little bitch’s a natural.” Mosely said, tossing the comment at Dean.
Sam glanced his way, nodding a little to tell his brother he was okay. Dean started to get up.
“Sit your ass down.” Mosely said, though his eyes never left the dancer on the stage.
“I thought…” Sam looked up at him.
Mosely’s grin was sly. “Told you it would take a while. I ain’t done.”
“But…I…”
“Relax, enjoy the show.”
“Three times. You said three times.”
Mosely’s hand petted his hair. “Yes, your ass, my dick. Three times.”
“Then…what was that?”
Mosely pulled his eyes away from the window and looked at Sam. “That was a damn fine first blow job. You should be proud. I’ll make you a hot little whore yet. Give your big brother a run for the money.” He stopped petting and grinned. “Maybe you two could team up. I hear there’s a market out there for hot brother asses.”
Sam fumed. He pulled away, got to his feet, but not before his nearly hard cock flashed out from under the skirt. Mosely laughed. “You hard, baby? Want me to take the edge off for you?” He reached for Sam, but Sam pulled away.
“Fuck you.”
Mosely’s smile was slow and lazy. “Patience, sugar. The night is young. Come sit down.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You wanna blow our deal? Fine by me. I’ll just take it out of your brother’s skin in the morning.” Mosely sat back and stretched his legs out in front of him.
Sam paced…over to the door, the corner. He was furious and ashamed and embarrassed. The fucker had played him. Played him good.
Dean was across the room and at his side, his eyes telling Sam they should go. Sam shook his head. Covered Dean’s mouth. If he said a word it was over. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, Dean’s face was filly with fury. “It’s okay.” Sam whispered. Dean shook his head and pointed at the door. “We’ll stay.” Sam kissed Dean’s forehead, then froze. His cock brushed Dean’s thigh.
Dean’s eyebrow shot up and it was Sam’s turn to shake his head. “It’s nothing.” Because Sam wasn’t sure which would be worse, Dean thinking Sam had gotten hard sucking the fucker’s cock, or Dean knowing it was because Sam was thinking about Dean’s fingers fucking his ass.
“You better get your ass on over here, I’m getting lonely.” Sam licked his lips and went back to Mosely, who patted the seat beside him. Sam sat, trying to adjust the skirt to cover his naked ass and not really succeeding.
Dean slowly went back to the corner and perched on the couch like he was ready to fly off it and beat the shit out of Mosely.
Mosely slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulled him in so he was half laying across Mosely, then promptly seemed to forget Sam was even there. Dancers came and went on the stage. A waitress brought in drinks. Mosely never tucked his cock back in and it showed various signs of interest as time passed.
Sam was beginning to think it would never happen, then Mosely shifted, looked at Sam, then down at his cock. It seemed to harden just like that. Mosely brought his legs together and pushed Sam up. “Now?” Sam asked, his voice all breathy and scratchy.
“Now. Hike up that skirt and fuck yourself.”
Sam looked to Dean, then down at Mosely. “What?”
Mosely patted his thighs. “Sit on my lap little girl.” He grinned.
“I…” Sam nodded. He stood. Mosely’s cock was dark and hard and he held the base, making it point up. Sam moved, turned his back to the big guy and bunched up the skirt. It had been hours since Dean had prepped him…it was probably dry. It was going to hurt.
Sam reached for the cock as he straddled Mosely’s legs and slowly squatted. His thighs burned. Sam’s eyes were closed as he guided the tip toward his hole. He couldn’t look at Dean, couldn’t think about the way his own cock was hanging out there, still half hard.
The tip pushed into him. Sam let out a shaky breath. He had to reach back and brace himself on Mosely’s shoulder. Then there was a hand on his face. He looked up. Dean was there, in front of him, arms folded and held out for Sam to grab. He grabbed Dean’s forearms and held onto him, lowering himself again.
Mosely seemed bigger than the first time…or maybe it was the angle…or maybe it was because he was making Sam do it, instead of just taking him like he had before. It took three tries to get it fully inside him, and he paused there, sitting on Mosely’s lap with his cock up Sam’s ass. He could scarcely breathe.
Dean’s arms moved up, encouraging Sam to move. It burned, almost more the second time. Sam rose up and sank down, holding Dean’s arms for leverage, leaning forward toward his brother. He let his mind wander…let himself imagine that this was someone other than Mosely…someone…fuck. He’d leaned a little more and Mosely’s cock hit that same spot Dean had the first time he’d prepped Sam.
Sam’s cock definitely liked that spot. It was full on hard now and Sam was sweating, panting. He needed Mosely to finish. Needed to get out of there before he knew. Before he saw.
Sam glanced up at Dean. Dean’s eyes were squarely on Sam’s face. Sam nodded. He tried to move faster, to clench his ass around the cock moving in and out of him.
Mosely grunted, his hips rising up to meet Sam’s movement. It wouldn’t be long now. His hands came to Sam’s hips and pushed him down hard as his cock seemed to swell and started spewing come. He pushed up twice, then pushed Sam up and into Dean’s arms.
Sam gasped and struggled to get the skirt down before either of them could see how hard he was. Mosely slapped Sam’s ass and laughed. “One hot ass.” His finger penetrated Sam, squelching on the abundance of come inside him, then he pulled it out and dragged it down Sam’s thigh.
“Make sure I can watch you as you leave.”
Sam made a beeline for the door, with Dean behind him. He could feel come leaking out his ass, down his thigh. He was hyperventilating, pushing through the crowd that had gathered while they’d been in the booth. He got out the door and three steps away before he was tripping on the heels and stopped, turning to face the wall and kicking the shoes off and trying hard not to start bawling right there on the street.
Dean caught up to him, grabbing him around the shoulders and dragging him into the alley. “Sam. Sam.” His hands pulled Sam’s face up, his lips pressed to Sam’s cheek.
“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.” Sam was shaking, shivering. His cock pushed against the leather of the skirt and his hands moved to cradle it. Tears leaked onto his cheeks and Dean kissed them away.
“Shh…shhh…Let me.” Dean’s hand slithered down Sam’s arm, down under the skirt and closed around Sam’s cock. Sam stiffened, shuddered.
“Dean.”
Dean’s lips pressed against his. “Don’t say no.” Dean whispered, pulling his hand along Sam’s dick. “Don’t say no. Let me do this.”
His hand stroked, warm, the calloused skin making Sam gasp as his thumb swiped over the tip, over the slit. Sam’s hands closed on Dean’s upper arms, His breath shuddered. This was so much different than when he did it himself. Hot. Wrong. “Fuck.”
Sam’s brain stopped. Just stopped and he shuddered as his orgasm started. His come spilled onto the dirty pavement between his brother’s feet and Sam just leaned into Dean, gasping for air.
Dean soothed the skirt down, slipped the coat up and over Sam’s shoulders, rubbing over his back. “Let’s get you home.”
Sam let Dean guide him, lead him. Numb. At least until they got inside and Dean had let go of him. Then he felt cold. “Shower.”
Sam nodded, shrugging off the coat and heading into the bathroom. He stood under the water until it ran cold, then a little longer. When he got out, Dean had left him a clean pair of sweats. Dean met him in the kitchen with a shot of whiskey, then walked him to the bed. “Sleep Sam. It’ll be over soon.”
Sleep. Sam closed his eyes. Over. Somehow, he didn’t think it would ever be over.
