Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2477681.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Sam/Dean
  Additional Tags:
      Prostitution, bottom!Dean, Rimming, underage!sam_(16)
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-10-19 Words: 3085
****** It’s not about the Money… ******
by Ephermeralk
Summary
     Dean’s internal wires are twisted beyond recognition, because
     really—who solicits their teenage brother for sex in a last ditch
     effort to get him to stay home from a Halloween party because their
     Dad is out hunting a werewolf? Apparently, he does.
Notes
     A/N: Written for my October
     [http://l-stat.livejournal.net/img/community.gif?v=556?v=120.6]
smpc entry. Also, it’s [http://l-stat.livejournal.net/img/
userinfo.gif?v=17080?v=120.6]blackrabbit42’s birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BB!! I
am 100% sure this was not what you envisioned, but I do hope it’ll work for
your needs. Hope you have a GREAT day, my dear. You deserve all the good
things!!!♥ ♥ Extra, super thanks to my much beloved beta, [http://l-
stat.livejournal.net/img/userinfo.gif?v=17080?v=120.6]sleepypercy. Title stolen
from Jessie J.
Snick. The sound would be practically imperceptible to most people. But Dean
Winchester isn’t most people, and that sound isn’t nothing. That sound. That
snick. That’s Dean’s little brother trying to climb out the screen window. And
there ain’t no way in hell Dean’s about to let that happen. Not tonight. Not on
Halloween with Dad out on a werewolf hunt.
He opens the door to his younger brother’s room just as one of Sam’s overly-
long legs is halfway out the window.
“Sam, where do you think you’re going?” He pauses when he sees that his
brother’s got on a pair of tight black leather pants. “Actually—scratch that
question. What the hell are you wearing?”
A muttered “dammit” is followed by Sam hauling his scrawny body back inside of
his room. At least he had the sense not to run. Dean’s legs may be bowed, but
he makes up for it by being fast. He could outrun Sam’s gangly self any day of
the week, and they both know it.
“You do realize it’s Halloween, right? And I’m going to a party. Obviously.”
“I might not have a diploma, but I ain’t stupid, Sam. What are you supposed to
be, anyways? A hooker?”
“No. I’m Angel.”
“I think you’re missing the wings, Sammy. And the white. Really, I’ve got to
say, I’m getting the prostitute vibe from those leather pants and that black
shirt.”
“I didn’t say an angel, Dean. I said Angel. Like from Buffy.”
“So let me get this straight. You’re sneaking out so that you can pretend to be
a lame-ass, re-ensouled vampire?”
Sam snorts and rolls his eyes. Whatever. He’s 16 and dressing up like a douche-
bag vampire on television. Vampires aren’t even real. Every hunter worth his
salt knows that.
“Yes, Dean. Exactly that. Now let me go.Please? Nothing bad is going to happen
to me in the next few hours. I’ll be home before midnight. I promise.”
“No.”
“Seriously? After all the times I’ve covered for you with Dad?”
“Not happening, Sammy.”
“What if you come with me?”
“As Buffy? Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t do long hair or tiny dresses.”
“I dunno, Dean. I think you’d look pretty hot.”
“Nope. Out of the question.”
“Look. I’m going—with, or without you.”
Dean can’t let Sammy go. It’s too dangerous out there tonight with a werewolf
on the loose, but he’s still got one trump card to play. Something that’s he’s
been trying to ignore for years now. Something that’s wrong. Really wrong
between the two of them, and Dean has to take a deep breath and spit the words
out fast before he can’t go through with it.
“I’ll pay you to stay.”
Sam laughs, and it’s harsh. Mocking. His dimples are showing, but there’s not a
trace of happiness anywhere on Sam’s angular face.
“Seriously? What am I, five?”
“No, that’s not--”
“You think you can just pay me twenty bucks and I’ll miss out on the social
event of the year?”
“No, Sam, listen.”
“You know what? Fuck you, fuck this. Dad’s not here, and I’m leaving. Right
now.”
“You’re not listening,” Dean practically yells. “I’ll pay you to stay here and
fuck me.”
The silence that falls almost immediately feels awkward, considering they were
just shouting at each other. But now Sam’s staring at him, mouth gaping like a
fish out of water, and Dean’s starting to turn red. His face, his neck, the
tips of his ears.
He’s put it all on the line, everything he can think of to get Sam to stay, and
he’d thought it would be enough. But he must have projected his own faulty
wiring onto Sam. Of course he hadn’t wanted Dean. Sam had just been putting
every single popsicle, lollipop, and banana in his mouth because Sam likes
sweets. Not because he’d been thinking of Dean. He’d only been looking at Dean
because Dean been looking at him. God, he’s sick. He should take the five-
hundred dollars he won last night hustling pool and go seek professional help.
No one solicits their younger, teenage brother for sex in a last ditch effort
to get him to stay home from a Halloween party, just because Dad said to make
sure that Sam didn’t leave the house. This is a whole new level of fucked up.
Even for him.
Dean wants to disappear into the floor, but barring that option he’d better get
his flask ready, because Sam’s a stubborn bastard, and if he’s going to go to
this damn Halloween party, Dean is too. He just needs a little help, a little
liquid courage to keep breathing—to keep looking after Sam. Dean can do this,
of course he can. Making sure Sam is safe, that is his job. Dad trusts him to
keep Sam out of harm’s way.
He won’t fail. Not again.
Dean’s halfway to the liquor cabinet when Sam’s voice stops him. “Wait. Are you
serious, Dean? You’d pay me…to fuck you?”
Dean swallows down his fear, his guilt, his shame. He straightens his shoulders
and turns around, looking up at Sam (when did his brother outgrow him
anyways?).
“Yup,” he says popping the ‘p’ the way he knows that Sam hates. “Know you’ve
wanted to for some time—so here’s your chance, big boy.”
“How much?” Sam asks, ignoring the dig, and Dean can see the wheels turning in
his head. Probably thinking of all the SAT prep books that he’s been bugging
Dean about buying. And—what else was there? A graphing calculator maybe?
“Four-hundred.” Dean still needs money to feed the two of them for the rest of
the month, in case he doesn’t snag any more hours at the auto shop. Everyone
knows everyone around here, and Dean can’t hustle pool again without the risk
of being run out of town.
“Alright,” Sam says. “Say I agreed, what would you want me to do? Blow you?”
Sam’s boner is proudly displayed in his leather pants—it’s even bigger than the
last time that Dean had caught a glimpse—and Dean’s becoming more confident now
that Sam’s actually going to say yes. Damn if the thought of Sam on his knees
doesn’t make him horny. Maybe this will even help him get Sam out of his
system. Maybe after tonight, all of his wires will straighten out.
“Among other things. Basically, you do whatever I want, all night.”
Sam goes a little pale, “You want my ass too?”
“Nah. Not tonight. But I might want to stick my tongue up that tight butt of
yours.”
This time, it’s Sam who’s blushing. “You…you’d want that?”
“Have you looked in the mirror recently, little brother? Hell yeah, I want
that.”
“Alright,” Sam says, jutting out his shoulders as he slides his hands into his
back pockets, putting his collar bones on prominent display. Dean can’t help it
if he starts to salivate; Sam was always a good-looking kid, but these days
he’s downright hot.
“Is that an alright, as in ‘yes, I’ll stay here and fuck you, Dean’?” he asks.
He needs to be absolutely, 100% sure that Sam’s fully willing here.
“Yeah, I’ll fuck you, Dean. That is, if you ever stop talking and get your ass
on my bed.”
Dean takes his time climbing on to Sam’s worn down mattress. The house Dad’s
rented out doesn’t have the best of insulation (if any), so Dean leaves his
clothes on. He settles in with his back to the headboard, legs splayed.
“Blow me,” he says, holding eye contact. Challenging Sam to back down and say
no. He doesn’t. Of course not. Because he’s Sam.
He climbs onto the bed with surprising grace for a kid who often trips over his
own two feet and unzips Dean’s fly. Dean’s dick is already twitching in his
pants, trying to jump towards his brother’s long fingers and wide palm. Sam
halts for a second, possibly unsure of what to do, although Dean can’t tell for
certain.
“Atta boy, Sammy,” he coaches. He’s never really minded teaching other people
how to make him feel good. It’s a heady feeling, all the control he holds with
just a few words. “Take it out.”
Sam’s hand shakes momentarily, before Dean covers it with his own. “You okay?”
His brother huffs and gives him a patented bitch-face. If he’s being honest,
Dean loves when Sam’s lip curls as he makes that particular expression. Just
the vague hint of feminine beauty radiating out of lean muscles and prominent
bones.
“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just…you better fork up the money when I’m done.”
“What do you take me for? A liar?” Dean traces his thumb over Sam’s lips. Sam
raises his eyebrows at that. Fine. Dean will concede that it was probably a
poor choice of words.
“Alright, so I lie all the time. But not to you, bitch.”
“Jerk,” Sam returns. He doesn’t give Dean any time to respond. Instead, he
takes out Dean’s dick and swallows it down.
It’s not even close to the best blow job Dean’s ever had, not by a long shot,
but it’s Sam, and that makes up for the fact that he seems to think he needs to
really suck. It’s obvious that Sam doesn’t know the seal of his mouth does all
the work for him.
“Hey Sam, ease up a little,” he says, pulling Sam’s head off of him for a
second. “Focus your tongue on the head and use your hand to play with my
balls.”
In what seems like the first time in forever, Sam obeys without questioning.
Diving back down, Sam practically makes out with his dick. His tongue is warm
and wet, hitting all of Dean’s sensitive spots, and Sam seems like he’s
actually enjoying it now that Dean’s bucking into his mouth.
“Fuck yeah. You’ve always been a quick study, huh, little bro.”
Sam licks Dean with increased enthusiasm when he says that, so Dean runs his
mouth off again. He wants to see just how many of Sam’s buttons he can hit with
a little dirty-talk. “Knew you’d be perfect for this. That I could pay you and
you’d open right up. That you’d look fucking gorgeous with my dick shoved down
your throat.”
Sam groans, lips vibrating against his cock, and Dean pulls Sam’s head off his
penis for a second time. “Close your eyes,” he orders as he strips his cock.
With Sam between his legs, Sam’s spit dripping down his balls, and Sam’s
upturned face and stupid nose in front of him, it doesn’t take Dean long before
he’s shooting off warm, sticky strands across Sam’s face.
Like a good brother, he makes sure that most of his spunk is cleaned up before
he allows Sam to open his eyes. Sam wipes the rest of Dean off his face with
the sleeve of his black shirt.
“Ew. That was disgusting. Did you have to come on my face?”
“I’m paying you four-hundred dollars,” Dean reminds him.
“Fine. Anything else, or are we done?”
“Done? Are you kidding? That was our warm-up round.”
“What’s next then?”
“You. On all fours, ass facing me.”
Dean doesn’t turn around, instead he watches as Sam’s body moves fluidly until
his little brother’s ass is presented in front of him. Perfectly wrapped up in
black leather. Dean takes a moment to grab Sam’s ass, running his finger over
the seam of his pants before reaching around and undoing both the button and
the zipper.
“Fuck, Sam. Commando?” he asks as the tight pants stick to his brother’s
thighs.
“I could hardly fit myself into these pants. No room for anything else.”
There’s no debating that point. Dean bites his lip as he pulls apart Sam’s ass
to get his first look at his brother’s hole. Both of their breaths hitch when
he runs his thumb over the pucker.
“You sensitive there?” he asks as Sam practically pushes back on his finger.
“Yeah.” Sam sounds breathless. “No one’s ever touched me there before…but it
feels good. Like…really good.”
Dean groans in approval. Suddenly, he can’t wait any longer. He’s got to get
his tongue in there. He licks a flat stripe first, then pulls back to see Sam’s
red hole gleaming under the incandescent light.
“Fucking obscene,” he mutters as Sam wiggles his ass, inviting him in.
He licks around the rim, dipping only the tip of his tongue into Sam, until his
brother is whining—begging him to stick it in further. Then Dean uses his both
of his thumbs to really stretch Sam’s ass open until he can see every pretty
red inch of his brother. It also allows him to get his tongue on all of Sam’s
insides that he couldn’t reach earlier. To be honest, what Dean loves most is
that instead of being a moody, temperamental teen, Sam is practically
worshipping at his feet (or really his tongue) again. Depending on him. Dean
misses the days when they didn’t fight every day. When Sam didn’t butt heads
just for the sake of arguing. So having Sam beg him to come. Yeah. That does it
for him. Definitely worth his hustling money.
Much to Sam’s dismay, he eventually takes his tongue of his brother’s ass. In
all fairness, he misses the warm heat of Sam’s body too. He looks over at the
clock; it’s almost twelve. Huh. He must have spent over an hour buried in Sam’s
ass.
“Deannn,” Sam whines.
“I know, I know. But I do believe part of the deal was for you to fuck me. You
ready?” he asks.
“Oh hell yeah,” Sam says enthusiastically. Dean’s not really sure that he’s
ever seen Sam move so fast in his life. His brother is on top of him before he
can speak another word, practically tearing his pants off. Dean hardly has time
to slick his brother up with lube before Sam is holding his dick steady against
his hole, and then he’s pushing in, filling Dean up from the inside out. They
both let out a string of expletives once Sam’s all the way in, balls slick with
sweat and lube, pressed warmly against his ass.
“Gonna move there Sammy?” Dean questions, even though he knows that Sam is
probably doing his best not to blow his load.
“Hold on,” Sam says as he swipes a piece of hair out of his face. “Alright.”
Sam starts with slow, deep movements that can hardly be counted as thrusts.
“C’mon, a little faster.”
“But I’ll come,” Sam argues. Dean doesn’t care, they have the rest of the
night. He fists his own cock, as Sam picks up a little speed.
“That’s good, Sammy. You’re doing real good,” he encourages, although it’s
becoming hard to speak with the way Sam’s occasionally hitting his prostate,
how his dick is stretching Dean’s rim with every movement he makes.
“Yeah? You like giving it up for me, Dean?” Sam asks, clearly gaining
confidence with every grunt that Dean is letting out of his mouth.
“It’s just as good as I imagined.”
Sam laughs. “You’ve been thinking about this for a while, huh? About my cock
splitting you open.”
“Yeah.”
“Such a slut, Dean,” Sam says. But he looks proud, almost. “I knew if I waited
long enough you’d ask me…but hell, I didn’t think you’d pay for it.”
“What?”
Sam leans down to nuzzle against Dean’s neck. “Why do you think I’ve been
pushing so hard these last few months? I’ve been trying to get you to admit you
actually wanted this. Us.”
Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. Sam wanting him, it’s like his best
dream and worst nightmare all at once.
“Thought you wanted to be normal?” he asks. Half-hoping Sam will take that
back, half-hoping he doesn’t.
“You and me? Normal? Not a chance.”
They stop talking then as Sam speeds up, jerking his hips erratically before he
comes with a final deep thrust. It doesn’t take long before he follows Sam over
the edge, coming all over both of them, although less this time around. Sam
tries to collapse on him but Dean pushes him off, feeling Sam’s deflated dick
slip out of his body.
Dean detangles himself from Sam’s grasp and cleans his brother up with a warm
washcloth first, even though it’s Sam’s come that is starting to run down the
back of his thighs. He grabs his wallet from his pants and counts out the money
before shoving it into Sam’s hand.
“It wasn’t about the money,” Sam says, looking like he’s about to refuse.
“Thought you needed books for your SAT?”
Dean wants Sam to live a normal life. No matter what’s gone on between them, or
if Sam’s internal wiring is just as twisted as his own. Sam’s his little
brother. And Sam deserves better than him. Sam’s smart and independent, and if
either of them are going to get out of this thankless, poor-life-expectancy
job, it should be him.
“I do, but I could get them another way.”
“I’m not going to let you steal them. Take the damn money, Sam. You earned it.”
Sam reluctantly shoves it in his back pocket.
“Thanks,” he says as Dean puts his pants back on. “But stay with me tonight.
Please?”
He really shouldn’t. This was supposed to be one-night thing. A way to keep Sam
safe, even if Dean had wanted it. He should be cutting Sam off. Getting him
ready for different, better life. But Sam looks like he might cry, and Dean’s
never been good at refusing Sam. Besides, there’s still a werewolf outside, and
Dean should really make sure that Sam stays safe. “Alright. But if you snore,
I’m taking off.”
“I don’t snore.”
“You better not.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Dean slides under the covers and wraps his arm around Sam. Pulls him close
until he can feel the fast beat of Sam’s heart through his chest. Tomorrow
he’ll tell Sam they can’t do this again. That Sam should go find a girl and
study his ass off. That he should apply to a good school as far away as he can
find. But right now, Dean breathes in deeply, committing to memory how Sam
smells after sex. All sweat and testosterone wrapped up with a hint of
something sweeter. Sam deserves something better—but for him? Dean’s pretty
sure this is as good as it gets.
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