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phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: every stone a story, Part Three (link to Part One, Part Two)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, Pastor Jim, OMCs/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6024
Summary: Dean is a few months shy of seventeen when John is hurt in a car accident coming home from a hunt. The accident lands him in a coma and leaves Dean trying to find a way to support Sam when he can't reach their emergency contacts. What starts out as a seemingly simple job stripping turns into anything but and Dean finds himself in a game where the only card he has to play is his own body and the deck is stacked against him.
A/Ns & Warnings: For the exquisite![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katbcoll. Warnings include: under-age non-con, under-age prostitution, some violence. This was actually meant to be done in one part, but well...it ended up being longer than I thought...so Iml posting the next two parts ( 3 & 4) and I'll have to come back with the rest at a future time.
“Hey.” Sam said as he dropped his books on the chair near the door.
Dean looked up, then at the clock and back at Sam. “You’re home?”
Sam closed the door and peeled off the jacket that was nearly too small for him. “Same time everyday.”
Dean lurched up off the couch, rubbing at his forehead. “I guess I lost track of time.”
Sam was frowning at him. “Doing what?”
Dean shook his head and headed toward his bedroom.
“Dean?”
He stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“Are you okay?”
Sam had asked that a lot in the last few days. “Yeah, Sam. Just…tired.” He’d gotten up a few hours before, but he’d been sitting on the couch doing nothing. Nothing but thinking, trying to find a way out of the situation he found himself in.
“Any word from the hospital?”
Dean sighed and shook his head. “No change. I need to shower.”
He left Sam in the living room and went into his bedroom to get his towel. He had a few hours before he had to head to the club, but he wanted to go see his father before. They were planning to operate soon, but there were no promises.
Dean started the shower and stripped out of his sweats, stepping in under the spray. It was hard to believe it had only been a week since their desperation had driven him to take the job. He shuddered and reached for the soap. It didn’t matter how many showers he took anymore, and he knew he was doing it compulsively, several times a day. He never felt clean.
He scrubbed himself down and rinsed off, standing a few minutes longer in the hot water. Sam knocked on the door as Dean was turning off the water. “Dean, phone. It’s Pastor Jim.”
Relief flushed through him and he wrapped a towel around him before opening the door and reaching for the phone. “Pastor Jim.”
“Can’t talk long, Dean. I got your messages. You boys okay?”
Dean exhaled. “Yeah, we…we’re getting by. Dad’s…well, he’s still in the hospital.”
“I know, I already talked to the doctor there. Listen, it’s going to be a few days before I can get to you. I can send Caleb, but he’s not a lot closer.”
Dean shook his head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m…I have a job. I’m making it work.” He hoped he didn’t sound as desperate and freaked out as he actually was. He could get through this, until his father was well enough for them to leave town. That was what he told himself every time he walked into the club, every time he danced, every time he got shoved into that private room to bend over and take some guy’s cock up his ass or in his mouth.
“Dean?”
“Yeah, sorry.” He shook his head. “Just get here when you can. We’ll be okay until then.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, tired.” Dean responded, despite Sam glaring at him.
“Okay, a few days.”
Dean hung up the phone and headed for the bedroom to get dressed. “Don’t you have homework or something?”
Sam followed him into the bedroom though. “You going to tell me what’s really going on?”
Dean pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of his dresser and threw them on the bed. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Sammy.”
“Sam.”
“Whatever. You want me to make you dinner before I go?”
“You going in early?”
“No, gonna go see Dad.” Dean dropped his towel and pulled his jeans on.
“Ouch.” Sam said, reaching for Dean’s hip. His fingers found the bruises from the fingers that had held him too tightly before Dean got the jeans all the way up. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Dean pushed him away and buttoned his jeans. “Just some rough housing last night. It’s fine.” He pulled the t-shirt on and went back to the dresser for socks.
“I’ll just have spaghettios later.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Sam stared at him for a minute, then turned and left the room. Dean sighed and sat on the bed to put on his socks and shoes. Just a few more days and Jim would be there. Dean could give up playing father for a while.
Dean prepared himself mentally before pushing open the door of his father’s hospital room. Every time he saw his father he was reminded just how bad it really was.
To his surprise, what he found was Dr. Havilan and a nurse talking. To his father. Who was awake. “Oh.” Dean stopped in the doorway as Dr. Havilan looked at him.
“Dean, I was going to call you as soon as I got back to my office.”
Dean ignored him though, coming to the side of the bed, his eyes on his father’s gaunt face. John Winchester smiled, though it turned into a grimace and his eyes closed briefly. “Dad?”
He slipped his hand into his father’s and was rewarded with a squeeze.
“His last test results showed significant improvement, so we’ve been bringing him up slowly.” Dr. Havilan said.
Dean nodded, his eyes skipping over his father’s face.
“We’re going to leave the breathing tube in for the moment, but if it all goes well, we’ll pull that later tonight.”
Dean glanced at the doctor. “When…I mean…I’m not sure what I should be asking here.”
Havilan smiled and closed the chart in his hands. “Why don’t we give you a few minutes with your father, but just a few minutes. He’s still on heavy pain medication and he needs his rest.”
The doctor and the nurse withdrew and Dean pulled the stool closer to the bed, straddling it without letting go of his father’s hand. “Wow, you really had me scared, Dad.” Dean said softly.
John squeezed his hand and Dean looked up, blinking at unexpected tears. “We’re okay. Sam and me. I…well, um…I’ve got a job sorta…enough to feed us and get the heat turned on.” Dean had to look away, suddenly feeling like he was Sam’s age and his father would see through the lies. “I mean, I had to drop school…but Sam, he’s good. And, um…I’ll bring him to see you tomorrow.”
He exhaled and looked up, but his father’s eyes were closing. Dean stood, leaning in to press a kiss to his father’s forehead. “I promise. We’ll both come tomorrow.” He slipped his hand free and let himself out into the hallway. Dr. Havilan was only steps away. “He’s asleep.”
“Good. I have to say, I’m cautiously optimistic that we won’t have to operate. Your father still has a long way to go, but this improvement is heartening.”
“So, his back is better?”
“He’s still in a lot of pain, but yes the swelling that was concerning me has started to diminish and he’s showing pain responses in all of his extremities, so that is very good.”
"That's the first good news I've had in a while." Dean said, relief filling him. Pastor Jim was on his way and his father was better. But he still had to deal with Charlie. He bit his lip. "I have to get to work, but I'll be back tomorrow."
He left the hospital and headed for the club. If he just stopped showing up, Charlie would send Spike and Shaun to get him. If he explained that he would be quitting…well, honestly, Dean didn't know what he would do. But as long as Sam was alone while Dean was out, he wasn't going to risk it.
He'd play along until Jim showed. Then he'd figure out a way to shake Charlie.
It was starting to snow again as he parked down the street from the club. He sat in the car for a few minutes like he did every night. It got harder and harder to get out of the car knowing what was waiting for him inside that club.
The dancing was bad enough…seven nights he'd come here and taken his clothes off on stage. Six of those nights he'd been bent over and fucked like a whore after. The night before had been bad. He'd been in the private room more than he'd been on stage. Five men in the space of six hours.
Dean's ass clenched at the thought of more. And it was Friday, the loudest, rowdiest night according to Matty. He closed his eyes and reminded himself it was for Sam. He could tell from what Matty didn't say that Charlie would follow through on his threat, he would send Spike to hurt Sam.
He opened the door of the car and stepped out, inhaling the cold winter air and pulling himself together. It was like stepping into another person. He put on cocky and arrogant like a jacket and headed to the club, into the alley that took him to the dressing room entrance.
Dean nodded at the man standing guard at the door and let himself in, blowing on cold hands as he slipped into the quiet dressing room. He was early, but it gave him time to work himself up to his first dance, which would lead to his first fucking, he was sure.
He got as far as the mirror he'd taken as his own when he heard yelling. He frowned and followed the noise out to the front of the house. Sean and two other big guys were standing over someone on the floor and Charlie was raging.
"You don't fuck with me, Matthew. I thought we'd talked about this."
Dean's eyes tracked to the body on the floor, startled to realize it was Matty. "And now you make a mess on my floor and I got no one to take your place tonight."
Matty struggled to sit up, his face bloody, his nose broken. It looked like one of his legs was too. "Charlie…I didn't say no…I just…" Sean fisted a hand in his hair and Matty stopped.
"Winchester."
Dean started at the sound of his name, and realized belatedly that he had stepped out enough to be seen. Charlie was beckoning him closer. Dean crossed behind the tables to the front.
Matty was looking at him, shaking his head, but Charlie snapped his fingers to get Dean's attention. "You're taking Matty's place tonight."
Dean dared a glance at Matty and back. "Matty isn't on the schedule tonight."
"He was booked for a special gig. Spike, get this piece of trash off my floor and clean up his mess. Sean, you're handling Dean. I'll get Rook to handle the door."
"Wait, what…what special gig?" Dean asked, even as Sean was grabbing his arm.
Charlie turned back to look at him. " Private party. Sean will explain in the van."
"Van? Wait." Dean pulled his arm free. Charlie was coming back toward him, his face hard.
"We gonna have a problem, Dean?"
"No, no problem." Dean held up his hands. "I just…"
"I would hate to have to send Spike over to check on Sammy when he's done taking out the trash."
Dean swallowed and backed off a step. Charlie reached out and adjusted the zipper on Dean's jacket. "Besides, a gig like this pays more, so relax, and have fun."
"Right. Fun." Dean turned away, right into Sean. It was easy to see there was no way out of whatever this gig was, though judging from the way Charlie was acting, Dean could take a fair guess.
Sean grabbed his arm and dragged him out the back, shoving him into the back of a van. Sean followed him and shut the door. There was a black curtain blocking off the driver's seat from view and the only window was painted black. Black carpeting softened the hard floor and the only thing back there was a trunk that Sean opened.
"Naked."
He didn't look to make sure Dean obeyed, but Dean had seen what they'd done to Matty and he knew Sean wouldn't hesitate to hurt him. He pulled his jacket off, then his shirt, shivering a little in the cold.
"When you're done, put these on." Sean tossed a pair of black leather shorts at him. "Then sit down and be quiet. If you try to see where we're going, move that curtain or speak I will beat your stupid ass. Am I clear?"
"Yeah, clear."
The van rocked as Sean made his way to the front and Dean was still kicking his shoes off when the van lurched forward. He grabbed the side wall to keep from falling, then went for his zipper. His hands were shaking when he finally got down to naked and started to pull on the shorts.
They weren't exactly built to cover anything. They had a slit where the zipper should be and a hole over his asshole. So, he wasn't wrong about what kind of gig this was meant to be.
Great.
He got the shorts on and adjusted himself, then tried to find a comfortable way to sit while they drove. He had no concept of where they were headed, which was probably the point of making him undress while Sean drove.
Finally they came to a stop and Sean came back through the curtain. Dean stood, ducking his head to keep from smacking it on the roof.
"You gonna tell me what's—"
Sean backhanded him across the face. "I said no talking. Bend over." Sean shoved him at the side wall and pushed him until he was bending over, then Sean was shoving a finger into him.
"Hey!"
Sean punched him in the side, then went back to prepping Dean's ass with his fingers and lube. "Knees."
Dean turned and knelt, licking his lips. Sean lifted a black cloth and shook it out, then folded it and used it to cover Dean's eyes. Dean stiffened, but didn't speak. He wasn't ready to get hit again. Once he was blindfolded, Sean grabbed his hands and pulled them behind his back.
Dean heard the definitive sound of handcuffs getting locked, then Sean's hot breath was on his ear.
"I am going to walk you in there and put you on your knees. You will do whatever you are told. You will be a good boy and you will lick and suck and take it up the ass until they're done with you."
They. Dean swallowed hard.
"They may hit you or kick you or anything up to drawing blood or breaking bone. I will be watching. If any of them break the rules I will break them. Am I clear?"
Dean nodded, licking his lips nervously.
The door opened and he was shoved out, his bare feet hitting concrete. "Move."
He stumbled a little and Sean shoved him, keeping him off balance, but with a hand on his arm to keep him from falling. Dean could hear traffic in the distance, and the cold made his skin tighten. Then they were moving inside and the air warmed. The concrete under his feet gave way to something softer, then carpet.
“This isn’t our usual boy,” a voice said nearby as Sean pulled him to a stop.
“This is Mustang, your usual boy had an accident.”
“Too bad for him, nice for us. Look at that mouth.” A thumb ran over Dean’s lip, then fell away. “Take him in, I’ll let the boys know the party is starting.”
Sean pushed him and Dean moved, through a narrow door. Ten halting steps from the door, Sean stopped him, his hand moving to his shoulder and pressing. Dean hesitated at first, but as Sean’s fingers tightened, he bent his knees, sinking to the floor.
The carpet is soft at least, better than concrete or tile, though it feels dirty and he doesn’t want to think about that. He focuses on breathing, on listening. Sean has moved away, Dean couldn’t even feel him hovering. In the background he can hear music, like it’s down the hall with several closed doors between him and it. Then there are voices. Several.
He tried to listen to them, figure out how many, but they came too quickly, surrounding him, all talking together. “See, I told you,” the voice from earlier says. “Charlie’s been holding out on us.”
“Oh, yeah, buddy…I’m going to like the way those lips look around my cock.” Two hands took Dean’s head, thumbs pressing against his lips until he opened them enough to get inside. Those thumbs pressed down, forcing Dean’s mouth open and he heard a zipper.
“Hey, birthday boy gets first pick, dumbass.”
The hands left him and Dean shifted as he felt them crowd around him. “Come on, what’s it gonna be?”
So far he could make out at least four different voices. “I’ve seen his mouth, show me his ass.” Okay, five. A hand pushed him forward, pressing his face into the dirty carpet and forcing his ass up. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I want. Hold him down like that.”
He closed his eyes behind the blindfold and waited for the touch. Hands grabbed his hips and a foot pushed against his feet, forcing him to spread them apart more. There was no prep or warning, just the head of a cock forcing itself into his hole.
Dean exhaled and tried to relax, tried not to buck and thrash. He inhaled slowly. The cock pushing into him was thick and had to ease back and come again, taking three strokes to actually get all the way inside him.
“Oh yeah, happy birthday to me….this one’s tight. Ain’t ya, whore?” He laid across Dean’s back and rocked his hips.
“You gonna fuck him or sweet talk him?”
The guy laughed and pushed back, holding Dean’s hips now as he thrust in. He set a pretty fast pace, to the cheers and commentary of the others and as he got ready to come, he pulled out, dumping his load on Dean’s back. “Yeah, gonna want some more of that before we send him home.”
“Wait your turn man. I’m next.”
Before Dean could even think about adjusting his position, the hand holding his head down pulled him up instead. His mouth was pushed open and filled with cock. He tried to focus, do more than just take the thrusting, but on the third stroke there was someone behind him and he was getting fucked from both sides.
Panic flared inside him and he struggled to get his hands loose, to pull away, but as he pulled his head back, it only pushed him onto the cock behind him, and if he pulled away from that, it got the cock in front of him shoved deeper into his mouth.
He couldn’t stop the whimper, the fear that flushed his body. Hands tightened in his short hair and pulled him forward. Then there was come on his face, smeared onto his lips. He was unprepared for the fist that connected with his face, and only the hands holding his hips in place kept him from falling.
Another cock took the place of the one that left its load on his face and the one in his ass pulled out to paint his back with hot, sticky strings. “Oh fuck, this mouth…I’m gonna make him swallow.”
Dean tried to pull away but he was held in place by more hands than he could count as he was fucked faster and harder and then the cock was shoved in deep, past his gag reflex, his head held tight as the man came and he was forced to swallow.
He was dropped once the man was done and he fell face first into the carpet, unable to stop himself with his hands cuffed behind him. He coughed and groaned, his stomach threatening to throw up.
“You like that, whore?” A foot connected with his ass, the booted heel digging into the left cheek as he was shoved forward. He rolled, groaning as his shoulder slammed into the floor and he ended up on his back, his cuffed hands under him, tilting his hips up. “Look, he wants more. Go on, Duck, he’s all yours.”
Dean stiffened and put his feet on the floor, trying to push himself up or over or something, but once again, hands found him, grabbing his knees and spreading him open. It was different like this somehow, knowing the man’s face would be above his, that if he wasn’t blindfolded he would have to see the man.
The angle was different too and as a longer dick than the others pushed into him, it found new places to press into. Dean’s stomach tightened and his cock flushed with heat. “No,” he groaned, as the man fucking him nailed his prostate and Dean’s cock responded by hardening.
“Oh, yeah…he likes it, the little fucker.”
A hot hand circled his cock and Dean whimpered as it pulled and the cock inside him kept hammering away until Dean’s ass flooded with hot and wet, and Dean was left with the hand jacking him slowly.
“You getting this?” someone asked.
Dean closed his legs, rolled away, but he was hit hard across the face and his legs spread open while that hand kept pumping his cock. “You gonna come, little fuck?”
Dean clenched his body tight, imagined dead things and his injured father, anything to kill the erection, but his body betrayed him and he came with a gasp, wetting his stomach.
"The other guy never came when we fucked him," one of them said, his voice near Dean's head.
A finger dragged through the come on his stomach, then the finger was being shoved into his mouth. The taste of his own come coated his tongue as they laughed. A hand grabbed his cock, and Dean whimpered.
"I'm ready for another go, get him on his knees."
Dean was poked and prodded until he was on his knees, then yanked back until there was a cock pushing into his already aching ass. Someone moved his legs until his feet were pressed to the outside of the man's knees and he was pulled back, forcing the cock up inside him and leaving him basically sitting on it.
"All right whore, show me how much you like having my cock in your ass."
Dean didn't understand, but then there were hands on his hips, pushing him up and shoving him back down. He felt himself flush red, but managed to flex his hips and slide up the cock, then back down.
His hands were in the way of getting all of it inside him. That didn't seem to matter. After a few minutes, it was obvious that Dean wasn't doing enough. He was shoved forward, back onto the rug and the man grunted as he fucked him harder and harder.
When it was over, Dean was left there, on his knees. He could still hear them. They were drinking and talking. He rolled to his side, wondering if it was done now, if Sean would take him out of there.
Of course, that would be too easy. It was only a few minutes before he was being pulled on again. They were slower after that, but they kept at him steadily. He lost count of how many times. In between fuckings they slapped him, pushed him around the rug until he had burns on both knees and one shoulder. He stopped fighting, just let them pull and prod him into place, just willing it to be over.
He dozed off when it seemed it had been a while since they'd touched him, and started when hands touched him again.
"Easy, time to go." Sean. Dean let Sean gut him up, but couldn't make his feet work. Sean lifted him and carried him out to the van, laying him down in the back. The van started moving and after a short drive, it stopped. Sean knelt beside him and rolled him on his side. The hand cuffs came off and Sean eased Dean's arms out from behind his back.
His shoulders screamed and his thighs trembled with the pain of moving. Sean pulled the blindfold off and Dean blinked up at him.
"My payment for supervising these little outings is that I get a go with you once it's over. But I don't like the mess those boys leave behind. We're going into this room and you're going to clean up first."
Dean just nodded, no fight left in him. Sean got him standing and together they moved slowly into a motel room. Sean took him into the bathroom and got the shower started, then helped Dean get the sticky leather shorts off.
"Need help?"
Dean shook his head and waited until Sean had left the room before he climbed slowly into the shower. The water was hot, but weak and for a long time he just stood under the spray, letting it wash over him. There was come dried on his skin, in his hair. The taste of it filled his mouth.
Some sound reminded him that he wasn't alone and he looked around before reaching for the cheap motel soap. He scrubbed at his skin, wincing as his hand swiped over his ass. The skin was stretched and raw and come still oozed from him. He held his cheeks open and let the water flow down his crack.
He moved slowly, his body protesting each movement. He was going to hurt worse come morning. There was a bruise starting to bloom on one side of his chest and down his side. He rolled his shoulders slowly, stiff and tight from laying on them with his hands bound behind him.
He could hear Sean in the bedroom, sounds that made Dean think he was getting impatient. He turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel. He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist, opening the door and peeking into the bedroom.
Sean looked up from near the dresser. He immediately held out a glass with what looked like whiskey in it. “Here, I brought in some Tylenol too. You should take some.”
“Thanks.” Dean took the glass and the bottle of Tylenol and went to sit on the bed, setting the glass down to get the pills open. He dumped three into his hand and tossed them back, chasing them with a healthy swallow of the whiskey.
Sean came toward him and Dean rubbed his hands on the towel, looking up at him and nodding. “Relax, let me look at you.” Sean said, tilting the lamp shade so that more of the light hit Dean’s face. Sean’s fingers were gentle as they explored Dean’s cheekbone, then up around his eye. “Well, you’re going to bruise, but it won’t be too bad. Lift your arm.” His fingers moved over each of his ribs, from the center of his chest to his side.
Dean hissed as he poked into the mottled skin.
“Sorry. Nothing’s broken. How are your shoulders?”
Dean frowned at him, uncertain why he was being nice. “They hurt.”
“That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Drink your whiskey, I’ve got something that might help.”
Sean went back to the dresser, then into the bathroom as Dean finished the whiskey in his glass. Sean came back with a brown bottle, a wet washcloth and a bottle of lube. He gestured for Dean to get up and pulled the comforter and sheet down. “Lay down.”
Dean did as he was told, the towel dropping to the floor as he moved. He lay in the middle of the bed, pulling pillows to him. To his surprise, Sean sat next to him, his hands rubbing over Dean’s shoulders. “Relax, you’re tensing up.”
“I’m naked in a motel room after just getting gang banged by five guys. You’d be tense too.” Dean said.
Sean chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. How about this, I’m not going to hurt you, I only want to help make it feel better, okay?” He lifted the brown bottle. “It’s liniment. My brother’s a boxer. Well, was a boxer. He says it helps.”
He poured a little bit out on his fingers and rubbed his hands together before reaching for Dean’s shoulders. His thumbs caressed in circles over tight, sore muscles, getting gradually harder and deeper. Dean groaned as he moved up and out, working all of the tight spots. He actually found the tension in his body releasing as Sean’s fingers moved over his skin, gentle near the bruising, a little harder over muscle, sweeping down his back and up again.
The bed moved, but Dean was nearly asleep and couldn’t bring himself to look up. He heard Sean undress, then the bed dipped again and Sean moved so that he was straddling over Dean’s legs. Still, his fingers were gentle, smearing lube carefully over the raw skin, soothing and cool. Dean closed his eyes and fought the desire to crawl away. Sean’s finger eased into him, then there was more lube and a second finger, but instead of feeling like he was prepping Dean, it was like he was trying to make the burn of the night’s abuse go away.
By the time he moved, taking his fingers out and replacing them with his dick, Dean almost didn’t even feel him. Sean lay over him for a long time, his cock filling Dean up but not moving. When he did finally move, it was slow and easy. Neither of them moved or spoke. The bed rocked with them and Dean could almost will himself away.
When Sean was done, he didn't pull out so much as he rolled them to the side, his hand petting over Dean's chest as he pulled him close, like they were lovers, and this a quiet night together.
Dean kept his eyes closed and let the exhaustion pull at him until he dozed off, lulled by Sean's gentle caress and the self-delusion that this was somehow better than it really ever could be.
"Your clothes are on the bed." Sean said, his voice gruff and pulling Dean up out of the half-asleep stupor that wasn't really restful, but gave him time away from the dull pain of his reality. "You got five minutes."
Sean left the room and Dean sat up stiffly. There wasn't much that didn't hurt and it made getting dressed a slow and painful process. He was just putting his shoes on when Sean came back into the room. "Van's warmed up." Sean came around the bend and slipped an arm around Dean's waist to help him up.
"I got it." Dean said and Sean backed off.
"Just helping."
"Yeah, I'm fine." He was fine too. He repeated it in his head as he moved stiffly out of the room. A blast of frigid air greeted him and he slipped a little on the ice, but Sean was there to catch him and kept his hand on Dean's elbow all the way to the van.
"You can sit up front now, just can't let you see the location of the gig." He held the door while Dean struggled up into the seat. Once Dean was buckled in, Sean closed the door and went around to the driver's side.
In minutes they were pulling up beside Dean's car.
"Boss told me to tell you he's giving you tomorrow night off, but expects to see you Sunday night." He held up a wad of money. "This is your cut for tonight."
Dean took it, shoving it into his pocket without counting it. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how much that ordeal was worth.
"You okay getting home?"
Dean nodded and gathered himself for the effort of getting out of the car. The air felt colder as he fumbled with his keys and got the door open. He groaned as he sat on the cold seat, his ass protesting. The engine started and heat poured out of the vents. For a long time, Dean just sat there, letting the heat soak into him, though it didn't touch the chill inside him.
Finally, he pulled out and started for the house.
It was only a little after one in the morning when he pulled in, but it felt so much later, like he'd dug graves with his father all night. He headed into the house, dropping his jacket in the living room and making for the bathroom.
He showered again, scrubbing at skin that he was half certain reeked of come until the water ran cold. He toweled off and pulled his sweat pants off the back of the door, then wiped down the mirror.
His cheek was bruising in. By morning he was going to have a black eye too. He turned, lifting his arm to get a look at his side. "Shit." He poked a finger at the spreading bruise, and his eyes caught on his wrist, which was bright red with black and purple spots. He was going to have to hide the bruises from Sam. Or come up with some story.
Sighing, Dean turned and opened the bathroom door, jumping when Sam was on the other side. "Shit."
Sam rubbed at his eyes and started to push past him, then stopped, his eyes opening and widening. "What happened?"
Dean shook his head and tried to step out into the hallway. "Nothing. Do your business."
Sam's hand caught his arm and stopped him. "Dean, I'm not stupid."
He sighed again and pulled his hand free. "It's nothing Sam. There was a fight. I got caught up in it."
Sam's hand lifted to Dean's face, but Dean pulled away. "I'm fine, just a little sore." He licked his lips and decided to distract him. "Dad's better. They brought him out of the sedation. We're going to see him later."
Sam stepped back, blinking. "Really?"
"Yeah, he opened his eyes, and I got to talk to him a little. It's still…the doctor's saying it's still going to be a while, but he's hopeful." Dean stepped back further, turning toward his bedroom. "So, get your ass back to bed. Don't want him thinking I'm not taking care of you."
They got to the hospital during afternoon visiting hours, Dean leading Sam to their father's room. The breathing tube was gone, and John's eyes opened as Sam touched him.
Dean hung back a bit, taking in the thin face and the IV still running down to his hand. It was better. But it still wasn't good. Sam was talking at top speed, trying to tell their father everything that had happened in the last three weeks all at once.
"Breathe, Sam." Dean said, stepping away from the door. "You don't have to cram it all into the first thirty seconds."
"Hey." His father's voice was scratchy and hoarse, but filled with a warm affection Dean didn't remember hearing often. He lifted a hand and pointed at Dean's face. "What happened?"
Dean shrugged it off as he sat on the side of the bed. "No big thing, just some rowdy guys blowing off steam last night. I got in the way."
"That's nothing, you should see his side." Sam said.
"Thanks Sam, that's helpful." Dean shook his head. "I'm fine."
"He keeps saying that." Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean. "Did he tell you he's working in a bar?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "I wash glasses and bus tables."
"In a bar." Sam said.
"Dean." John made a face and swallowed, then put his hand on Dean's knee. "I'm proud of you, Son."
Dean smiled at him. "See, Sam?"
"Don't get cocky." Sam responded.
"Well, I've got the night off, so we're here until they kick us out." Dean covered his father's hand with his own. "We've missed you."
John smiled at him, then at Sam. Dean let Sam resume his rambling about school and the snow and whatever else the kid was on about. He was content just to sit there and know that his father was going to be all right and soon he would be free of Charlie and his goons.
Title: every stone a story, Part Three (link to Part One, Part Two)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, Pastor Jim, OMCs/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6024
Summary: Dean is a few months shy of seventeen when John is hurt in a car accident coming home from a hunt. The accident lands him in a coma and leaves Dean trying to find a way to support Sam when he can't reach their emergency contacts. What starts out as a seemingly simple job stripping turns into anything but and Dean finds himself in a game where the only card he has to play is his own body and the deck is stacked against him.
A/Ns & Warnings: For the exquisite
katbcoll. Warnings include: under-age non-con, under-age prostitution, some violence. This was actually meant to be done in one part, but well...it ended up being longer than I thought...so Iml posting the next two parts ( 3 & 4) and I'll have to come back with the rest at a future time.“Hey.” Sam said as he dropped his books on the chair near the door.
Dean looked up, then at the clock and back at Sam. “You’re home?”
Sam closed the door and peeled off the jacket that was nearly too small for him. “Same time everyday.”
Dean lurched up off the couch, rubbing at his forehead. “I guess I lost track of time.”
Sam was frowning at him. “Doing what?”
Dean shook his head and headed toward his bedroom.
“Dean?”
He stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“Are you okay?”
Sam had asked that a lot in the last few days. “Yeah, Sam. Just…tired.” He’d gotten up a few hours before, but he’d been sitting on the couch doing nothing. Nothing but thinking, trying to find a way out of the situation he found himself in.
“Any word from the hospital?”
Dean sighed and shook his head. “No change. I need to shower.”
He left Sam in the living room and went into his bedroom to get his towel. He had a few hours before he had to head to the club, but he wanted to go see his father before. They were planning to operate soon, but there were no promises.
Dean started the shower and stripped out of his sweats, stepping in under the spray. It was hard to believe it had only been a week since their desperation had driven him to take the job. He shuddered and reached for the soap. It didn’t matter how many showers he took anymore, and he knew he was doing it compulsively, several times a day. He never felt clean.
He scrubbed himself down and rinsed off, standing a few minutes longer in the hot water. Sam knocked on the door as Dean was turning off the water. “Dean, phone. It’s Pastor Jim.”
Relief flushed through him and he wrapped a towel around him before opening the door and reaching for the phone. “Pastor Jim.”
“Can’t talk long, Dean. I got your messages. You boys okay?”
Dean exhaled. “Yeah, we…we’re getting by. Dad’s…well, he’s still in the hospital.”
“I know, I already talked to the doctor there. Listen, it’s going to be a few days before I can get to you. I can send Caleb, but he’s not a lot closer.”
Dean shook his head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m…I have a job. I’m making it work.” He hoped he didn’t sound as desperate and freaked out as he actually was. He could get through this, until his father was well enough for them to leave town. That was what he told himself every time he walked into the club, every time he danced, every time he got shoved into that private room to bend over and take some guy’s cock up his ass or in his mouth.
“Dean?”
“Yeah, sorry.” He shook his head. “Just get here when you can. We’ll be okay until then.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, tired.” Dean responded, despite Sam glaring at him.
“Okay, a few days.”
Dean hung up the phone and headed for the bedroom to get dressed. “Don’t you have homework or something?”
Sam followed him into the bedroom though. “You going to tell me what’s really going on?”
Dean pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of his dresser and threw them on the bed. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Sammy.”
“Sam.”
“Whatever. You want me to make you dinner before I go?”
“You going in early?”
“No, gonna go see Dad.” Dean dropped his towel and pulled his jeans on.
“Ouch.” Sam said, reaching for Dean’s hip. His fingers found the bruises from the fingers that had held him too tightly before Dean got the jeans all the way up. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Dean pushed him away and buttoned his jeans. “Just some rough housing last night. It’s fine.” He pulled the t-shirt on and went back to the dresser for socks.
“I’ll just have spaghettios later.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Sam stared at him for a minute, then turned and left the room. Dean sighed and sat on the bed to put on his socks and shoes. Just a few more days and Jim would be there. Dean could give up playing father for a while.
Dean prepared himself mentally before pushing open the door of his father’s hospital room. Every time he saw his father he was reminded just how bad it really was.
To his surprise, what he found was Dr. Havilan and a nurse talking. To his father. Who was awake. “Oh.” Dean stopped in the doorway as Dr. Havilan looked at him.
“Dean, I was going to call you as soon as I got back to my office.”
Dean ignored him though, coming to the side of the bed, his eyes on his father’s gaunt face. John Winchester smiled, though it turned into a grimace and his eyes closed briefly. “Dad?”
He slipped his hand into his father’s and was rewarded with a squeeze.
“His last test results showed significant improvement, so we’ve been bringing him up slowly.” Dr. Havilan said.
Dean nodded, his eyes skipping over his father’s face.
“We’re going to leave the breathing tube in for the moment, but if it all goes well, we’ll pull that later tonight.”
Dean glanced at the doctor. “When…I mean…I’m not sure what I should be asking here.”
Havilan smiled and closed the chart in his hands. “Why don’t we give you a few minutes with your father, but just a few minutes. He’s still on heavy pain medication and he needs his rest.”
The doctor and the nurse withdrew and Dean pulled the stool closer to the bed, straddling it without letting go of his father’s hand. “Wow, you really had me scared, Dad.” Dean said softly.
John squeezed his hand and Dean looked up, blinking at unexpected tears. “We’re okay. Sam and me. I…well, um…I’ve got a job sorta…enough to feed us and get the heat turned on.” Dean had to look away, suddenly feeling like he was Sam’s age and his father would see through the lies. “I mean, I had to drop school…but Sam, he’s good. And, um…I’ll bring him to see you tomorrow.”
He exhaled and looked up, but his father’s eyes were closing. Dean stood, leaning in to press a kiss to his father’s forehead. “I promise. We’ll both come tomorrow.” He slipped his hand free and let himself out into the hallway. Dr. Havilan was only steps away. “He’s asleep.”
“Good. I have to say, I’m cautiously optimistic that we won’t have to operate. Your father still has a long way to go, but this improvement is heartening.”
“So, his back is better?”
“He’s still in a lot of pain, but yes the swelling that was concerning me has started to diminish and he’s showing pain responses in all of his extremities, so that is very good.”
"That's the first good news I've had in a while." Dean said, relief filling him. Pastor Jim was on his way and his father was better. But he still had to deal with Charlie. He bit his lip. "I have to get to work, but I'll be back tomorrow."
He left the hospital and headed for the club. If he just stopped showing up, Charlie would send Spike and Shaun to get him. If he explained that he would be quitting…well, honestly, Dean didn't know what he would do. But as long as Sam was alone while Dean was out, he wasn't going to risk it.
He'd play along until Jim showed. Then he'd figure out a way to shake Charlie.
It was starting to snow again as he parked down the street from the club. He sat in the car for a few minutes like he did every night. It got harder and harder to get out of the car knowing what was waiting for him inside that club.
The dancing was bad enough…seven nights he'd come here and taken his clothes off on stage. Six of those nights he'd been bent over and fucked like a whore after. The night before had been bad. He'd been in the private room more than he'd been on stage. Five men in the space of six hours.
Dean's ass clenched at the thought of more. And it was Friday, the loudest, rowdiest night according to Matty. He closed his eyes and reminded himself it was for Sam. He could tell from what Matty didn't say that Charlie would follow through on his threat, he would send Spike to hurt Sam.
He opened the door of the car and stepped out, inhaling the cold winter air and pulling himself together. It was like stepping into another person. He put on cocky and arrogant like a jacket and headed to the club, into the alley that took him to the dressing room entrance.
Dean nodded at the man standing guard at the door and let himself in, blowing on cold hands as he slipped into the quiet dressing room. He was early, but it gave him time to work himself up to his first dance, which would lead to his first fucking, he was sure.
He got as far as the mirror he'd taken as his own when he heard yelling. He frowned and followed the noise out to the front of the house. Sean and two other big guys were standing over someone on the floor and Charlie was raging.
"You don't fuck with me, Matthew. I thought we'd talked about this."
Dean's eyes tracked to the body on the floor, startled to realize it was Matty. "And now you make a mess on my floor and I got no one to take your place tonight."
Matty struggled to sit up, his face bloody, his nose broken. It looked like one of his legs was too. "Charlie…I didn't say no…I just…" Sean fisted a hand in his hair and Matty stopped.
"Winchester."
Dean started at the sound of his name, and realized belatedly that he had stepped out enough to be seen. Charlie was beckoning him closer. Dean crossed behind the tables to the front.
Matty was looking at him, shaking his head, but Charlie snapped his fingers to get Dean's attention. "You're taking Matty's place tonight."
Dean dared a glance at Matty and back. "Matty isn't on the schedule tonight."
"He was booked for a special gig. Spike, get this piece of trash off my floor and clean up his mess. Sean, you're handling Dean. I'll get Rook to handle the door."
"Wait, what…what special gig?" Dean asked, even as Sean was grabbing his arm.
Charlie turned back to look at him. " Private party. Sean will explain in the van."
"Van? Wait." Dean pulled his arm free. Charlie was coming back toward him, his face hard.
"We gonna have a problem, Dean?"
"No, no problem." Dean held up his hands. "I just…"
"I would hate to have to send Spike over to check on Sammy when he's done taking out the trash."
Dean swallowed and backed off a step. Charlie reached out and adjusted the zipper on Dean's jacket. "Besides, a gig like this pays more, so relax, and have fun."
"Right. Fun." Dean turned away, right into Sean. It was easy to see there was no way out of whatever this gig was, though judging from the way Charlie was acting, Dean could take a fair guess.
Sean grabbed his arm and dragged him out the back, shoving him into the back of a van. Sean followed him and shut the door. There was a black curtain blocking off the driver's seat from view and the only window was painted black. Black carpeting softened the hard floor and the only thing back there was a trunk that Sean opened.
"Naked."
He didn't look to make sure Dean obeyed, but Dean had seen what they'd done to Matty and he knew Sean wouldn't hesitate to hurt him. He pulled his jacket off, then his shirt, shivering a little in the cold.
"When you're done, put these on." Sean tossed a pair of black leather shorts at him. "Then sit down and be quiet. If you try to see where we're going, move that curtain or speak I will beat your stupid ass. Am I clear?"
"Yeah, clear."
The van rocked as Sean made his way to the front and Dean was still kicking his shoes off when the van lurched forward. He grabbed the side wall to keep from falling, then went for his zipper. His hands were shaking when he finally got down to naked and started to pull on the shorts.
They weren't exactly built to cover anything. They had a slit where the zipper should be and a hole over his asshole. So, he wasn't wrong about what kind of gig this was meant to be.
Great.
He got the shorts on and adjusted himself, then tried to find a comfortable way to sit while they drove. He had no concept of where they were headed, which was probably the point of making him undress while Sean drove.
Finally they came to a stop and Sean came back through the curtain. Dean stood, ducking his head to keep from smacking it on the roof.
"You gonna tell me what's—"
Sean backhanded him across the face. "I said no talking. Bend over." Sean shoved him at the side wall and pushed him until he was bending over, then Sean was shoving a finger into him.
"Hey!"
Sean punched him in the side, then went back to prepping Dean's ass with his fingers and lube. "Knees."
Dean turned and knelt, licking his lips. Sean lifted a black cloth and shook it out, then folded it and used it to cover Dean's eyes. Dean stiffened, but didn't speak. He wasn't ready to get hit again. Once he was blindfolded, Sean grabbed his hands and pulled them behind his back.
Dean heard the definitive sound of handcuffs getting locked, then Sean's hot breath was on his ear.
"I am going to walk you in there and put you on your knees. You will do whatever you are told. You will be a good boy and you will lick and suck and take it up the ass until they're done with you."
They. Dean swallowed hard.
"They may hit you or kick you or anything up to drawing blood or breaking bone. I will be watching. If any of them break the rules I will break them. Am I clear?"
Dean nodded, licking his lips nervously.
The door opened and he was shoved out, his bare feet hitting concrete. "Move."
He stumbled a little and Sean shoved him, keeping him off balance, but with a hand on his arm to keep him from falling. Dean could hear traffic in the distance, and the cold made his skin tighten. Then they were moving inside and the air warmed. The concrete under his feet gave way to something softer, then carpet.
“This isn’t our usual boy,” a voice said nearby as Sean pulled him to a stop.
“This is Mustang, your usual boy had an accident.”
“Too bad for him, nice for us. Look at that mouth.” A thumb ran over Dean’s lip, then fell away. “Take him in, I’ll let the boys know the party is starting.”
Sean pushed him and Dean moved, through a narrow door. Ten halting steps from the door, Sean stopped him, his hand moving to his shoulder and pressing. Dean hesitated at first, but as Sean’s fingers tightened, he bent his knees, sinking to the floor.
The carpet is soft at least, better than concrete or tile, though it feels dirty and he doesn’t want to think about that. He focuses on breathing, on listening. Sean has moved away, Dean couldn’t even feel him hovering. In the background he can hear music, like it’s down the hall with several closed doors between him and it. Then there are voices. Several.
He tried to listen to them, figure out how many, but they came too quickly, surrounding him, all talking together. “See, I told you,” the voice from earlier says. “Charlie’s been holding out on us.”
“Oh, yeah, buddy…I’m going to like the way those lips look around my cock.” Two hands took Dean’s head, thumbs pressing against his lips until he opened them enough to get inside. Those thumbs pressed down, forcing Dean’s mouth open and he heard a zipper.
“Hey, birthday boy gets first pick, dumbass.”
The hands left him and Dean shifted as he felt them crowd around him. “Come on, what’s it gonna be?”
So far he could make out at least four different voices. “I’ve seen his mouth, show me his ass.” Okay, five. A hand pushed him forward, pressing his face into the dirty carpet and forcing his ass up. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I want. Hold him down like that.”
He closed his eyes behind the blindfold and waited for the touch. Hands grabbed his hips and a foot pushed against his feet, forcing him to spread them apart more. There was no prep or warning, just the head of a cock forcing itself into his hole.
Dean exhaled and tried to relax, tried not to buck and thrash. He inhaled slowly. The cock pushing into him was thick and had to ease back and come again, taking three strokes to actually get all the way inside him.
“Oh yeah, happy birthday to me….this one’s tight. Ain’t ya, whore?” He laid across Dean’s back and rocked his hips.
“You gonna fuck him or sweet talk him?”
The guy laughed and pushed back, holding Dean’s hips now as he thrust in. He set a pretty fast pace, to the cheers and commentary of the others and as he got ready to come, he pulled out, dumping his load on Dean’s back. “Yeah, gonna want some more of that before we send him home.”
“Wait your turn man. I’m next.”
Before Dean could even think about adjusting his position, the hand holding his head down pulled him up instead. His mouth was pushed open and filled with cock. He tried to focus, do more than just take the thrusting, but on the third stroke there was someone behind him and he was getting fucked from both sides.
Panic flared inside him and he struggled to get his hands loose, to pull away, but as he pulled his head back, it only pushed him onto the cock behind him, and if he pulled away from that, it got the cock in front of him shoved deeper into his mouth.
He couldn’t stop the whimper, the fear that flushed his body. Hands tightened in his short hair and pulled him forward. Then there was come on his face, smeared onto his lips. He was unprepared for the fist that connected with his face, and only the hands holding his hips in place kept him from falling.
Another cock took the place of the one that left its load on his face and the one in his ass pulled out to paint his back with hot, sticky strings. “Oh fuck, this mouth…I’m gonna make him swallow.”
Dean tried to pull away but he was held in place by more hands than he could count as he was fucked faster and harder and then the cock was shoved in deep, past his gag reflex, his head held tight as the man came and he was forced to swallow.
He was dropped once the man was done and he fell face first into the carpet, unable to stop himself with his hands cuffed behind him. He coughed and groaned, his stomach threatening to throw up.
“You like that, whore?” A foot connected with his ass, the booted heel digging into the left cheek as he was shoved forward. He rolled, groaning as his shoulder slammed into the floor and he ended up on his back, his cuffed hands under him, tilting his hips up. “Look, he wants more. Go on, Duck, he’s all yours.”
Dean stiffened and put his feet on the floor, trying to push himself up or over or something, but once again, hands found him, grabbing his knees and spreading him open. It was different like this somehow, knowing the man’s face would be above his, that if he wasn’t blindfolded he would have to see the man.
The angle was different too and as a longer dick than the others pushed into him, it found new places to press into. Dean’s stomach tightened and his cock flushed with heat. “No,” he groaned, as the man fucking him nailed his prostate and Dean’s cock responded by hardening.
“Oh, yeah…he likes it, the little fucker.”
A hot hand circled his cock and Dean whimpered as it pulled and the cock inside him kept hammering away until Dean’s ass flooded with hot and wet, and Dean was left with the hand jacking him slowly.
“You getting this?” someone asked.
Dean closed his legs, rolled away, but he was hit hard across the face and his legs spread open while that hand kept pumping his cock. “You gonna come, little fuck?”
Dean clenched his body tight, imagined dead things and his injured father, anything to kill the erection, but his body betrayed him and he came with a gasp, wetting his stomach.
"The other guy never came when we fucked him," one of them said, his voice near Dean's head.
A finger dragged through the come on his stomach, then the finger was being shoved into his mouth. The taste of his own come coated his tongue as they laughed. A hand grabbed his cock, and Dean whimpered.
"I'm ready for another go, get him on his knees."
Dean was poked and prodded until he was on his knees, then yanked back until there was a cock pushing into his already aching ass. Someone moved his legs until his feet were pressed to the outside of the man's knees and he was pulled back, forcing the cock up inside him and leaving him basically sitting on it.
"All right whore, show me how much you like having my cock in your ass."
Dean didn't understand, but then there were hands on his hips, pushing him up and shoving him back down. He felt himself flush red, but managed to flex his hips and slide up the cock, then back down.
His hands were in the way of getting all of it inside him. That didn't seem to matter. After a few minutes, it was obvious that Dean wasn't doing enough. He was shoved forward, back onto the rug and the man grunted as he fucked him harder and harder.
When it was over, Dean was left there, on his knees. He could still hear them. They were drinking and talking. He rolled to his side, wondering if it was done now, if Sean would take him out of there.
Of course, that would be too easy. It was only a few minutes before he was being pulled on again. They were slower after that, but they kept at him steadily. He lost count of how many times. In between fuckings they slapped him, pushed him around the rug until he had burns on both knees and one shoulder. He stopped fighting, just let them pull and prod him into place, just willing it to be over.
He dozed off when it seemed it had been a while since they'd touched him, and started when hands touched him again.
"Easy, time to go." Sean. Dean let Sean gut him up, but couldn't make his feet work. Sean lifted him and carried him out to the van, laying him down in the back. The van started moving and after a short drive, it stopped. Sean knelt beside him and rolled him on his side. The hand cuffs came off and Sean eased Dean's arms out from behind his back.
His shoulders screamed and his thighs trembled with the pain of moving. Sean pulled the blindfold off and Dean blinked up at him.
"My payment for supervising these little outings is that I get a go with you once it's over. But I don't like the mess those boys leave behind. We're going into this room and you're going to clean up first."
Dean just nodded, no fight left in him. Sean got him standing and together they moved slowly into a motel room. Sean took him into the bathroom and got the shower started, then helped Dean get the sticky leather shorts off.
"Need help?"
Dean shook his head and waited until Sean had left the room before he climbed slowly into the shower. The water was hot, but weak and for a long time he just stood under the spray, letting it wash over him. There was come dried on his skin, in his hair. The taste of it filled his mouth.
Some sound reminded him that he wasn't alone and he looked around before reaching for the cheap motel soap. He scrubbed at his skin, wincing as his hand swiped over his ass. The skin was stretched and raw and come still oozed from him. He held his cheeks open and let the water flow down his crack.
He moved slowly, his body protesting each movement. He was going to hurt worse come morning. There was a bruise starting to bloom on one side of his chest and down his side. He rolled his shoulders slowly, stiff and tight from laying on them with his hands bound behind him.
He could hear Sean in the bedroom, sounds that made Dean think he was getting impatient. He turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel. He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist, opening the door and peeking into the bedroom.
Sean looked up from near the dresser. He immediately held out a glass with what looked like whiskey in it. “Here, I brought in some Tylenol too. You should take some.”
“Thanks.” Dean took the glass and the bottle of Tylenol and went to sit on the bed, setting the glass down to get the pills open. He dumped three into his hand and tossed them back, chasing them with a healthy swallow of the whiskey.
Sean came toward him and Dean rubbed his hands on the towel, looking up at him and nodding. “Relax, let me look at you.” Sean said, tilting the lamp shade so that more of the light hit Dean’s face. Sean’s fingers were gentle as they explored Dean’s cheekbone, then up around his eye. “Well, you’re going to bruise, but it won’t be too bad. Lift your arm.” His fingers moved over each of his ribs, from the center of his chest to his side.
Dean hissed as he poked into the mottled skin.
“Sorry. Nothing’s broken. How are your shoulders?”
Dean frowned at him, uncertain why he was being nice. “They hurt.”
“That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Drink your whiskey, I’ve got something that might help.”
Sean went back to the dresser, then into the bathroom as Dean finished the whiskey in his glass. Sean came back with a brown bottle, a wet washcloth and a bottle of lube. He gestured for Dean to get up and pulled the comforter and sheet down. “Lay down.”
Dean did as he was told, the towel dropping to the floor as he moved. He lay in the middle of the bed, pulling pillows to him. To his surprise, Sean sat next to him, his hands rubbing over Dean’s shoulders. “Relax, you’re tensing up.”
“I’m naked in a motel room after just getting gang banged by five guys. You’d be tense too.” Dean said.
Sean chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. How about this, I’m not going to hurt you, I only want to help make it feel better, okay?” He lifted the brown bottle. “It’s liniment. My brother’s a boxer. Well, was a boxer. He says it helps.”
He poured a little bit out on his fingers and rubbed his hands together before reaching for Dean’s shoulders. His thumbs caressed in circles over tight, sore muscles, getting gradually harder and deeper. Dean groaned as he moved up and out, working all of the tight spots. He actually found the tension in his body releasing as Sean’s fingers moved over his skin, gentle near the bruising, a little harder over muscle, sweeping down his back and up again.
The bed moved, but Dean was nearly asleep and couldn’t bring himself to look up. He heard Sean undress, then the bed dipped again and Sean moved so that he was straddling over Dean’s legs. Still, his fingers were gentle, smearing lube carefully over the raw skin, soothing and cool. Dean closed his eyes and fought the desire to crawl away. Sean’s finger eased into him, then there was more lube and a second finger, but instead of feeling like he was prepping Dean, it was like he was trying to make the burn of the night’s abuse go away.
By the time he moved, taking his fingers out and replacing them with his dick, Dean almost didn’t even feel him. Sean lay over him for a long time, his cock filling Dean up but not moving. When he did finally move, it was slow and easy. Neither of them moved or spoke. The bed rocked with them and Dean could almost will himself away.
When Sean was done, he didn't pull out so much as he rolled them to the side, his hand petting over Dean's chest as he pulled him close, like they were lovers, and this a quiet night together.
Dean kept his eyes closed and let the exhaustion pull at him until he dozed off, lulled by Sean's gentle caress and the self-delusion that this was somehow better than it really ever could be.
"Your clothes are on the bed." Sean said, his voice gruff and pulling Dean up out of the half-asleep stupor that wasn't really restful, but gave him time away from the dull pain of his reality. "You got five minutes."
Sean left the room and Dean sat up stiffly. There wasn't much that didn't hurt and it made getting dressed a slow and painful process. He was just putting his shoes on when Sean came back into the room. "Van's warmed up." Sean came around the bend and slipped an arm around Dean's waist to help him up.
"I got it." Dean said and Sean backed off.
"Just helping."
"Yeah, I'm fine." He was fine too. He repeated it in his head as he moved stiffly out of the room. A blast of frigid air greeted him and he slipped a little on the ice, but Sean was there to catch him and kept his hand on Dean's elbow all the way to the van.
"You can sit up front now, just can't let you see the location of the gig." He held the door while Dean struggled up into the seat. Once Dean was buckled in, Sean closed the door and went around to the driver's side.
In minutes they were pulling up beside Dean's car.
"Boss told me to tell you he's giving you tomorrow night off, but expects to see you Sunday night." He held up a wad of money. "This is your cut for tonight."
Dean took it, shoving it into his pocket without counting it. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how much that ordeal was worth.
"You okay getting home?"
Dean nodded and gathered himself for the effort of getting out of the car. The air felt colder as he fumbled with his keys and got the door open. He groaned as he sat on the cold seat, his ass protesting. The engine started and heat poured out of the vents. For a long time, Dean just sat there, letting the heat soak into him, though it didn't touch the chill inside him.
Finally, he pulled out and started for the house.
It was only a little after one in the morning when he pulled in, but it felt so much later, like he'd dug graves with his father all night. He headed into the house, dropping his jacket in the living room and making for the bathroom.
He showered again, scrubbing at skin that he was half certain reeked of come until the water ran cold. He toweled off and pulled his sweat pants off the back of the door, then wiped down the mirror.
His cheek was bruising in. By morning he was going to have a black eye too. He turned, lifting his arm to get a look at his side. "Shit." He poked a finger at the spreading bruise, and his eyes caught on his wrist, which was bright red with black and purple spots. He was going to have to hide the bruises from Sam. Or come up with some story.
Sighing, Dean turned and opened the bathroom door, jumping when Sam was on the other side. "Shit."
Sam rubbed at his eyes and started to push past him, then stopped, his eyes opening and widening. "What happened?"
Dean shook his head and tried to step out into the hallway. "Nothing. Do your business."
Sam's hand caught his arm and stopped him. "Dean, I'm not stupid."
He sighed again and pulled his hand free. "It's nothing Sam. There was a fight. I got caught up in it."
Sam's hand lifted to Dean's face, but Dean pulled away. "I'm fine, just a little sore." He licked his lips and decided to distract him. "Dad's better. They brought him out of the sedation. We're going to see him later."
Sam stepped back, blinking. "Really?"
"Yeah, he opened his eyes, and I got to talk to him a little. It's still…the doctor's saying it's still going to be a while, but he's hopeful." Dean stepped back further, turning toward his bedroom. "So, get your ass back to bed. Don't want him thinking I'm not taking care of you."
They got to the hospital during afternoon visiting hours, Dean leading Sam to their father's room. The breathing tube was gone, and John's eyes opened as Sam touched him.
Dean hung back a bit, taking in the thin face and the IV still running down to his hand. It was better. But it still wasn't good. Sam was talking at top speed, trying to tell their father everything that had happened in the last three weeks all at once.
"Breathe, Sam." Dean said, stepping away from the door. "You don't have to cram it all into the first thirty seconds."
"Hey." His father's voice was scratchy and hoarse, but filled with a warm affection Dean didn't remember hearing often. He lifted a hand and pointed at Dean's face. "What happened?"
Dean shrugged it off as he sat on the side of the bed. "No big thing, just some rowdy guys blowing off steam last night. I got in the way."
"That's nothing, you should see his side." Sam said.
"Thanks Sam, that's helpful." Dean shook his head. "I'm fine."
"He keeps saying that." Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean. "Did he tell you he's working in a bar?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "I wash glasses and bus tables."
"In a bar." Sam said.
"Dean." John made a face and swallowed, then put his hand on Dean's knee. "I'm proud of you, Son."
Dean smiled at him. "See, Sam?"
"Don't get cocky." Sam responded.
"Well, I've got the night off, so we're here until they kick us out." Dean covered his father's hand with his own. "We've missed you."
John smiled at him, then at Sam. Dean let Sam resume his rambling about school and the snow and whatever else the kid was on about. He was content just to sit there and know that his father was going to be all right and soon he would be free of Charlie and his goons.
