Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/306339.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester/Original_Male_Character
      (s)
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, Original_Male_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Prostitution, Underage_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-12-28 Words: 5509
****** Simple Man ******
by hanyou_elf
Summary
     Dean's a simple man. Everything simply revolves around Sammy.
Title: Simple Man
Rated: NC-17
Summary: Dean’s a simple man.  Everything simply revolves around taking care of
Sammy.
Pairing: OMCs/Dean; Sam/Dean
Warnings: Wincest, MINORS INVOLVED IN SEXUAL SITUATION; prostitution
Prompt:from adlehyde in “Working Hard for the Money” meme: Dean’s been hooking
on and off since he was a teenager. He started when Dad had stayed away on a
hunt for too long and they'd run out of funds. He hasn't had to do it in a
while, especially since he started hustling pool and running credit card scams,
and he's always kept it a secret.
Now that he and Sam are in between hunts (and can't run scams or hustle again
for whatever reason), he decides to take a risk and return to the scene. Things
go to hell at first, but then they definitely look up. Cue jealous!Sam who
wants Dean to be all his :D
Author’s Notes: No beta, just myself.  If you have any questions or concerns,
let me know!  And many, many thanks to zhem1x5 and seddiefan for the incredible
support and constant abuse.
Simple Man
1. Janie’s Got a Gun
Dean licked his lips and blinked slowly staring at the man standing before
him.  He couldn't believe he was about to do this.  But Sammy needed those
shoes.  Desperately.  He was literally walking out of the shoes he owned now. 
And Dad had been gone for too long, he hadn't called in nearly a week. 
Dean was determined to take care of Sammy.  Sam didn't understand what was
going on, didn't understand how to sacrifice more than he was already asked to
give up.  Dean would not let him give up this final piece of his childhood.  He
would not allow Sammy to lose the little bit of his precious innocence.  He
refused to.
So he was here.  Because Sammy needed shoes, and they needed to be able to
eat.  It sucked that he had to make choices like that when he was thirteen. 
And it was worse that he was here, doing this shit while his father was off,
doing God only knew what. 
"Only gonna blow you," Dean growled as he dropped to his knees.  He'd never
done this before.  Never had it done to him either.  And he was terrified of
what it would be like.  He offered the man above him a quirked smile before he
lifted hands, shaking in nervousness and fear.  He never imagined he be doing
this. 
He'd been hopeful that he would have been able to have a chick find him, but no
such luck. 
"That's fine, kid," the man laughed.  He stroked Dean's hair lovingly,
disgustingly sweet gesture that just made him want to gag.  Fumbling slightly,
it took Dean far too long to get the jeans opened, to slide his hand, sweating
in his nervousness, into the opening, and pull out the length of hard flesh
that would be in his mouth soon.  "Don't be scared of it.  Mouth pretty as
yours ought'a be used to it by now."
Dean shuddered as the hand slid through cropped hair. 
Sammy.  He was doing this for Sammy.  That was the only thing he could tell
himself, the only thing that made him fall to his knees before this man he'd
never met before, to offer sex.  It was terrifying, but he was alright with
this. 
He'd always been a little curious about men, but he'd never been brave enough
to pursue anything.  And that was okay.  He wanted to experiment when he had
gotten older, but he never thought it would be like this.  Never thought he
would be in the back of an alley, on his knees, getting to know how sex with
men was because he had no other option. 
Dean breathed deeply and took action.  He'd seen women do it in porn that he'd
watched on the TV, and he didn't know if it was right, except the man grunted
and thrust forward lightly.  Dean wrapped a hand around the base of the hard
flesh, holding it still as he wrapped his lips around the head.  It took him a
long minute to figure out what he needed to do with his tongue so he didn't
choke, but when he finally got the rhythm, the man was enthusiastic about it.
"Love that virgin thing," the man groaned.  His hips slid forward gently,
testing the depth he could get in Dean's mouth.
It wasn't an act, and no matter how much Dean wanted to scream that, he
couldn't.  In fact, the only thing he could do was pretend to like it.  The
salty tang was disgusting.  And the hard flesh was oppressive in his mouth.  He
couldn't seem to catch his breath, couldn't swallow.  But the man was okay with
that.  The hand in his hair was firmly fisted, pulling at the short strands,
pulling him forward, pushing the erection deeper.
Just as Dean was getting used to the movement, as he was allowing his mouth to
relax around the hard flesh, the man changed it up.  His hips snapped forward,
relentless in their movements, and Dean was helpless to do anything but take
it.
He could feel tears in his eyes, so he clenched them shut.  He couldn't afford
to cry, not here.  He needed to be professional, to compartmentalize like Dad
had taught him.
It seemed like a small eternity before the man thrust painfully forward and
froze.  It seemed like the dick seemed to harden more before he came, exploding
in Dean's mouth.  He choked, and swallowed on reflex, and knew he would be
gagging and throwing up.  The problem was, would he throw up before or after
he'd made his money from the man?
He jerked back now that the hand had left his hair and spit the cum that
remained in his mouth out.  He was disgusted, but he couldn't do anything about
it.  He had to endure.
"Good showing," the man praised as he pet his hair gently.  He threw down three
twenty dollar bills and fixed his pants quickly before he abandoned Dean.
Alone, Dean retched and threw up the hot cum that he'd been unable to stop
himself from swallowing.  But the sixty he'd just made would get him a pair of
shoes for Sammy and food for the hotel room.  It had been disgusting, and he
was humiliated, but it had been worth it.
2. Blaze of Glory
Dean threw himself into training.  He needed to show himself that he was strong
enough, capable of standing resiliently, even if he had to make choices that
were harder and harder to make.  He found himself going without more often than
not.  Not because he didn't want, but because they couldn't afford.
Sammy was growing, like a weed he was growing.  And he was active, a companion
in Dean's daily training regimen now.  It seemed like at twelve, Sammy was his
very own army.  He could destroy a pot of Mac and Cheese and still be hungry
for more.  Dean forced himself to stop eating unless it was dinner, and it
seemed to not be enough.  Sammy was practically eating them out of house and
home.
It wasn't that he ate like a pig, his eating habits were normal for a kid his
age, for a kid his size- Sammy was going to be a giant!- but they didn't have a
lot to begin with, and they didn't have a lot that could go around.
So, it happened again and again.
Dean hadn't let himself think of those experiences unless he needed the skills
he'd learned from the men he serviced, but he'd do the job, and they always
survived the unexpected disappearances of their father.  It was going on the
third week, and again, they still hadn't heard from Dad.  Dean couldn't get a
job, he wouldn't get paid before they up and moved again.
He couldn't afford to feed Sammy anything more than Mac and Cheese, but
continuing to feed Sammy Mac and Cheese was only going to make his little
brother sick.  Sammy needed meat and fresh foods.  But the only thing in the
sad cabinets of the kitchenette they were currently calling home was a single
box of Mac and Cheese.  Dean didn't even think he had the milk to make it. 
If he wanted to take care of Sammy, he needed to do better than his twenty or
thirty a blow job.  He was better at giving them, they were better at paying
him.  He didn't have to cover bruises quite so often.
He just had to make himself worth the while.
Pleased with himself for solving a problem, not his decision, he just needed a
way to get Sammy out of the room, so when he came crawling back in after it was
over, Sammy wouldn't have to see.  He held no hopes for the results of this
venture.
He had no illusions that sucking cock would continue to supplement their
father's meager leavings, but he didn't want to be stuck with that.  He hated
the taste, hated the way men just seemed to fuck his face, like there wasn't a
person behind the pretty lips.  He'd been lucky so far, but if he really wanted
to make the money, he had to be willing to go all the way.
And as much as he would prefer to keep up the blow jobs, he would be at it all
night.  And he didn't want that.  The last man had actually promised double the
pay if he'd only let himself be fucked.  If he wouldn't hold himself to his
high standards.  It was better money, at least forty up front.  It wasn't like
he had anything to stop him, anything that made his body worth something beyond
the toy he was used as.
"Dean?" Sammy asked softly, interrupting his thoughts.
"What's up, Sammy?"
"We're having the lock-in at school.  Can I... Can I go?"
"What've you got to take?"
"Just my blanket, my pillow, and something to snack on," Sammy answered.
"I'll have to go find something for you for snack, but that sounds like a good
idea," Dean admitted.  It would be nice to let his little brother go.  And it
would provide the perfect cover he needed to be alone.
"Really?  You'll let me go?" Sammy asked with such hope that Dean wouldn't have
had the heart to tell him no.
He didn't know how he was going to get Sammy a snack, he supposed he would just
have to lift something from the gas station down the street.  He'd go on and
feed Sammy, and if the school fed him too, he'd be a little less like starving.
"Yeah, sounds promising, kid."
Sam threw his arms around Dean happily.  In the most important of ways, Sammy
made the sacrifice Dean was making so very worth it.  "Thank you!"
"Let's not get emotional, Samantha," Dean coughed.  "Go do your homework.  I'm
going to go get you something."
-.-.-.-

Dean grunted as the man, some tall black guy he'd never seen before, slammed
him into the brick wall behind the alley.  He wasn't gentle as he pulled Dean's
pants low on his legs, his feet finishing the deal.  He kicked Dean's legs
apart as far as they would go and before he shoved a spit-moistened finger up
his ass, he leaned forward, "If you're really that tight, I'll pay you eighty."
Dean could only nod, his hands brace on either side of his body, dreaded
anticipation tensing him.  The man was merciless as he shoved a finger into
him, curled up into tensed virgin muscles.  There's been girls who had wanted
to finger him while he fucked them, but he'd never allowed it.  He'd known he
wouldn't have to until it was needed, until he was desperate.  And he was
desperate.
Dean forced himself to make the most enticing noises he could force from his
throat.  He knew that the men liked it when he seemed into it, but he couldn't
commit.   He couldn't make himself like it enough to get off.  Of course, he'd
never done this before, but at the rate it was going, he doubted he'd like it
much either.
The nameless man curled a second finger into Dean's body and scissored his
fingers apart.  Dean clenched his eyes shut against the burning pain, the
violated feel of another man's fingers tearing him apart, and forced a
breathless moan from his lips.  The man's weight forced him to rock against the
wall, brick dug into his hands and his cheeks.
The fingers slid free from his ass, but that just encouraged the man to move
quickly.  "Kid, that's gonna be some well earned money,” the man grunted into
Dean’s ear.  He could hear the sound of the condom being torn open, but he
didn’t hear the lube being used.  The man had been satisfied with what his
fingers had done as preparation.
Dean wanted to scream.  He could feel the terror trembling through his body,
the urge to cry and run bordering on panic.  The excess lube from the fingers
when they were thrust into his body would just have to do.  He heard the man
spit onto his hand and heard a groan as he stroked himself, and that was all
the warning he got.
A firm, rough hand grabbed on cheek and the other held the man’s covered dick
and it was quick- the first thrust into Dean.  He tensed in pain and shock and
caught the man deep in his body.  He gasped, panting through the pain of sudden
penetration and the shock of his body stretching around the girth of the man.
“Damn boy,” the man panted.  “Relax so I can fuckin’ move.”
It was just another order, and Dean forced himself to obey, gasping through the
calming breathing methods Pastor Jim had taught him for when he was too keyed
up after a hunt to sleep. 
The man grunted and pulled his dick from Dean’s body, to the flared head.  With
a caress to Dean’s hip, he set a relentless pace that kept Dean being thrust
into the unforgiving wall.  It seemed a small eternity before the man’s pace
picked up speed, hectic and erratic, and finally, freezing, buried balls deep
in Dean’s protesting body.
When the man withdrew, he ignored the painful gasp from the abused boy,
pressing a rough hand instead to Dean’s shoulder.  Dean closed his eyes and
breathed slowly.  He hadn’t felt anything as the man used him, no excitement ,
just pain he’d never imagined before.  He gasped as the man straightened
himself, he flinched at the wet plopping sound of the used condom hitting the
concrete.
The man knelt behind him and pulled his jeans up his legs, snuggling them close
around Dean’s ass once more.  His calloused hand slid into Dean’s pocket, and
pet his hip before being withdrawn.
“You were good kid.  Real good.  Real convincin’ as a virgin.  Find the right
man, he’ll pay double your fee,” he laughed.
Dean nodded and licked his too dry lips, playing his part for this man who had
a penchant for young whores.
When he was alone, and only then, he let himself sob the breath he needed in,
shameful tears rolled down his cheeks, and he shivered as he pressed his body
closer to the wall.
He prayed gratefully to a God he didn’t completely believe in, relieved that
Sam had gone out of the night, that he wouldn’t see Dean crawling into the room
in shame.  He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out four twenty dollar
bills and a business card.  Dean laughed with more than a light touch of
hysteria in his voice as he realized the man wanted to see him again.
It was a long time before he could move again.
-.-.-.-

He limped into the motel room, grateful to be home.  He needed a shower
desperately.  And he needed a couple shots of their father's whiskey.  But he'd
made eighty bucks, so he supposed he couldn't complain.  That was enough to set
them until their father returned.  Hopefully, sooner, rather than later.
He could feel the lube sliding out of his ass, he could feel the blood draining
sluggishly from his body.  He hurt, oh so very much he hurt.  But the money was
good.  And he had only had to be with one man tonight. 
Sammy wouldn't get sick because he was only eating Mac and Cheese.  He wouldn't
suffer because he was always lacking some essential nutrient or other.  He
would be able to get some meat.  Some hamburger, because it was always cheap,
and Sammy liked it with the Mac and cheese.
He paused to fix the salt lines around the door before he straightened slowly,
dropping his shirt.  He never wore anything more than his tightest tee-shirt
and his lowest riding jeans.  He had to be as enticing as possible, if he
wanted men to show up.  He wouldn't have minded some women coming to him, but
they weren't interested in him.  It was something he would have to really
figure out later in life.  Perhaps he'd hit on Laura in chemistry, just to have
some kind of experience.
He knew he was going to have bruises on his back and sides, the man had been
brutal, unforgiving when he'd shoved Dean face-first into the brick wall. 
“Damnit, Dean,” the strong and unquestioningly authoritative voice of John
Winchester echoed through the small motel room.  “What the fuck did you do,
boy?”
It took everything in Dean to straighten his spine.  To stand tall before the
great and powerful John.
“So, you let Sammy leave so you could go out and get fucked?” John asked with
more than a little disgust in his voice.  The way he made it sound, Dean’s
choices were unquestionably wrong and completely selfish.  In a world where
Dean could do little more than protect his brother, letting Sammy out of his
sight was wrong.  It meant something could happen and his family wouldn’t be
able to protect him.
That, to John, Dean had failed monumentally.
Dean wasn’t supposed to leave Sammy’s side without a good excuse and guaranteed
protection of the younger boy.  But John didn’t know that money had run out. 
Dean didn’t bother to hide the tears that formed in his eyes, but he refused to
let them fall.  There wasn’t a point in them, in front of their father.
“You left to whore yourself out in some stinkin’ bar because what, Dean?”
“Because I had to,” Dean answered.  Nothing else to say, but those simple,
simple words.  Because he had had no other choice.  He’d had to whore himself
out or Sammy would have suffered.  And Dean would do anything to keep that from
happening.
“Why?” John asked.  His hands, large and so very comforting when Dean was hurt,
were powerful and terrible things when he was pissed.  In his sixteen years,
Dean had taken more than a few hits from his father, but never like this.  John
shook his oldest son, hands bruising on already bruised shoulder and arm.  “Are
you that hard up?”
“Because.”  He refused to tell his father the truth.  Even if he knew that he
would suffer the consequences for it later.  He knew telling his father that
he’d done it for food money would break his fragile heart, that it would hurt
the ego that seemed to be the only thing protecting his father at times.  And
while it hurt that the man thought Dean had gotten rid of Sammy so he could
fuck for fun, he wouldn’t rid his father of those assumptions.
“You’re useless sometimes,” John growled low in his throat, his mouth close
enough to Dean’s ear that there was no way the boy could mistake the words. 
The intent.  The venom.
And the tears really began to fall then.  Slid down his cheeks in hot rivers
that felt like craters being carved into flesh.  He sobbed, gasping breath in
even though it hurt his ribs to do so, and he cried.  He’d wanted to be good
enough.  Strong enough.
“The next time I have to leave you two somewhere, I’m guessin’ it’ll be with
Bobby.  At least then I’ll know Sammy’s safe when you decide to go whorin’
yourself out all over town.”
He smacked the side of Dean’s head, none too gently, and pushed himself away
from the door he’d trapped Dean again.  Turning away from his sufficiently
chastised son, John moved to the bed the boys hadn’t been sleeping in, and
missed his son’s far less than graceful collapse against the wall.
“Dean!” John shouted as he kneeled beside his son.  “Where’re you hurt worst
at?”
“Don’t,” Dean sighed.  “I’m okay.”
He’d already disappointed his father enough today.  No point in letting him see
the proof of his sluttiness.  And how he was bad enough to only make eighty
dollars.
Without permission, John lifted Dean into his lap, stroked his calloused and
gun roughened fingers down the too skinny back.  When had Dean lost all of his
leanness?  The strength of his muscles nothing compared to the disturbing lack
of any kind of fat on the boy’s frame.  He stopped his hands’ movements when he
heard his son hiss in pain, saw his shy away from the touch and tense up.
His hand was low on Dean’s hip, lower than it should have been if he’d been
sleeping with some whore, a female whore.  Dean knew that.  He twisted away
from his father's touch.  He didn't want the too rough fingers to glance along
the sore muscles.  didn't want his father putting two and two together.
"Dean?" he asked, his voice soft in anger and confusion.
"It's nothing, sir.  Just, flirted with the wrong girl.  Her boyfriend and his
friends didn't appreciate it much.  They got the jump on me."
John looked a little skeptical at the explanation, but Dean's cocky grin and
easy demeanor helped him believe his son.  "Anywhere hurt particularly worse
than others?"
"Nothing a good shower won't fix," Dean answered.  "I'm just tired, sir."
"You need a minute before you get up?"
"No," Dean grumbled.  He pushed himself up in his father's hold, struggled to
his knees, and then his feet before he limped to the bathroom.
He'd been treated worse before.  Hell, John was rougher on him during hunts. 
It was the fact that he had given what had been left of his innocence, and he
couldn't tell this mountain of a man, for fear of disappointing him.  He wanted
the opportunity to be comfortable within his father's arms, something he hadn't
had in far too long, and just cry for what had been lost.  
But he was daddy's soldier, so he had to hide his pain.  His weakness.
3. Carry On My Wayward Son
Everyone left.  Dean was getting used to it.  He didn't care anymore that he
was so easy to abandon.  He was getting used to it.  It hurt, and it sucked,
but there wasn't anything he could do about it.
Nearly the day after Sammy had left a year ago, Dad was gone too.  Nobody
stayed with Dean.  Their father's departure proved it.  The only thing Dean
found to be a constant in his life were the endless men who wanted him for his
pretty mouth or his tight ass.
He'd been doing it off and on for nearly a decade.  Sucking cock like a real
professional for nearly ten years.  He'd given his ass up nearly six of those
years.  He had forgotten his pride and any kind of shame that he might have
had, all in the name of making sure Sammy had everything he needed.  School
supplies.  Clothing.  Books.  Field trip money.  All of it was because Dean
knew how to take care of men in the most basic of ways.  The only way they
cared about.  And even though he was mostly jaded by life and his many
experiences, he had had to pretend he was virginal and innocent.  At least,
until that final growth spurt.
Alone. 
Nothing but a text message and coordinates and a contact.  His father was
sending him hunting even if he didn't have a back up.  He sighed as he pulled
the muscle shirt and oh-so-tight pants on.  The most enticing clothing he had. 
He needed to make some money to send to Sammy.
His brother might not want anything to do with him, but he still had to make
sure his brother was taken care of.  A scholarship would pay for tuition, room
and boar, and maybe food, but nothing else. 
A hundred every two weeks would cover everything that Sammy could possibly
need.
It was something that made him okay with the constant loneliness.  Didn't make
things easier, but it made Dean much more comfortable with giving his body to
the night.
He'd do his regular routine for the night- a couple of fucks, a few blowjobs,
and then he'd sleep it off, meet Dad's contact and pretend everything was okay.
4. Clocks
The day Dad went missing, the day Sammy came back out on the road with him,
Dean decided he'd quit.  He would stick to hustling, to the more honest ways of
making money. 
Besides, he hated lying to Sammy.
5. Poison
He'd left Sam behind today. Not because he didn't want Sam's back up, but
because he didn't want his little brother to see just what he'd stooped to in
order to earn a little money. Hustling only got so much. And when you'd been in
the same place for weeks, and there were only two bars, well, it was an
extremely limited option.
But Dean needed the money. Badly. They had no food and less gas. And everything
they'd had left over was spent on their crappy motel room.
So, Dean had resorted to old tricks that he knew so very well. He put his body
to good use. The only thing he'd forgotten in his time away: the violence some
men just seemed to explode with.
So, if he was creeping into their room at closer to five in the morning than he
would have liked, and he had a black eye, bloodied lip, and tender ribs, he
couldn't be blamed for that. Especially when he'd managed to bring in close to
eight hundred. The last man for the night had thrown down three hundred after
he'd finally stopped kicking.
At least he knew that he could resort to kink if he wanted quicker money.
"Dean?" Sam's voice echoed in the sparse room. It wasn't the hazy thick of
waking up.
"Go back to sleep, Sammy," Dean ordered. He was proud and relieved that his
voice didn't sound strained or give away any of his pain. The growl he'd
developed after his second cock sounded like tired more than anything else.
"Dean, what happened?" Because if anyone knew Dean, it was Sammy.
And apparently it was worse than he'd thought, because without warning, Dean's
knees unhinged and he just collapsed in front of the bathroom. A startled and
painful cry escaped his throat and he fell onto his back; boneless.
"Dean!" Sam called, throwing his large body across the room to kneel beside his
brother.
"G'off me, Sammy," Dean growled. His voice was harsh, hoarse and so very
unforgiving. Covering his eyes with a bruised hand, Dean forced himself to
breath normally.
It wasn't that he was proud of what he had to do, but he refused to let himself
feel shame. Especially when he was, more or less, careful and it was always,
alwaysdone in necessity.
And, Dean would never tell Sammy this, but he would do anything to make sure
his little brother never went without the basic necessities- Lucky Charms in
the morning and Mac and Cheese in the evening. Made sure there was always milk
and Kool-Aid because Sammy never drank water.
"Just a hustle went bad," Dean said softly. "He had friends."
"Stop lying to me. What really happened?"
"Made some fucking money, Sammy. We were broke," Dean shouted in his broken
voice. He rolled to the left, his arm curled protectively against his ribs and
pulled the wad of cash out of his back pocket. "We didn't have a fucking penny
left. Fuck, Sammy. I had to do what I had to do to get some."
"You... you whored yourself out?" Sam asked, confusion and hurt in his deep
voice.
"I did what I had to do," Dean groaned.
“Come on," Sam sighed. He braced a hand on Dean's stomach and another on his
back and helped sit him up. "Gotta get you in the shower," he finished as
though it were the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.
"Leave m'lone," Dean groaned. He pushed his heavy body to his feet and stumbled
in the direction of the bathroom.
"I'm not good enough?" he asked quietly.
Dean was confused. He shook his head, clenching his green eyes shut and headed
toward the bathroom. He couldn't have this conversation with Sammy, not
tonight. "What?"
"If I wanted you, would I have to pay for you too?" he asked, stripping Dean's
pants off. Somewhere along the way, Dean had lost his boxers. Sam let the denim
puddle around Dean's ankles and carefully, lifted each foot to pull bloodied
boots and socks off.
Dean couldn't process what was happening, just let Sam take him and do what he
wanted with him. He didn't even really care anymore. "I'm expensive, Sammy." He
wasn’t, he was a cheap whore, but, this was Sammy.  He couldn’t tell him the
truth.
Sam sighed heavily, and Dean couldn't stop the rush of guilt that flooded his
body. He'd hurt his little brother, and what was Sammy thinking of, buying him?
"You only had to tell me we needed the money. I have money saved up. Money from
college, from you. I saved it. All you had to do was say something, Dean."
"Fuck you," he grunted. The tears were hot in his eyes, and there was a lot of
pain in him about everything that he'd just allow to happen. Sam just couldn't
seem to understand exactly what it was that made him make the choices he'd
done. He didn't seem to understand that Dean had to protect Sam, always.
Always, his main focus had been to take care of Sam. Sam didn't need to see
what Dean had had to do to in order to provide for Sam.
"How long have you done it?" Sam asked as he pulled the shirt off of Dean's
arms, exposing his bruised chest to hazel eyes.
"It doesn't matter," Dean answered. Naked, he shrugged Sam's hands off and
stepped into the tub, ignoring the fact that his brother had offered to buy
him.
That he was wearing the remnants of his long night.
That Sam was still staring at him like he'd never seen his brother before.
"I'm not a kid you have to take care anymore," Sam growled before he crowded
into the cramped space. Pushing Dean against the wall with his weight, he
pressed his lips to Dean's, claiming him passionately. "You don't have to
protect me," he breathed along Dean's jaw, smirking to himself as he felt the
shiver that ran through the slightly smaller body. "You don't have to do this,"
he murmured, wrapping an arm around the lithe waist, pulling their bodies
together- chest to chest, hip to hip.
Dean shuddered, his knees trembled and his hands rose without his permission to
clench in Sam's clothes, holding on. "Needed... We needed money," he panted
into Sam's shoulder.
"We didn't. You needed it. I have money, Dean," Sam repeated. "Do I have to buy
you so you can have it too?"
Dean didn't think about it before he pressed his lips to Sam's again, before he
slid a hand into Sammy's jeans, wrapping a hand around a dick that was only
half-interested in what's been going on.
"This is what you pay for," Dean grunted. With a backward punch to unforgiving
plaster, he pressed himself closer to the wall as he made space between their
bodies and slid his hand slowly around the base of his brother's cock. It was
quick, and it was dirty and Dean managed to make Sam explode in his pants using
strong and self assured strokes that left Sam panting and breathless. Dean
breathed against his brother's neck, his hand covering his own nakedness.
"Do you enjoy it ever?" Sam asked, holding his brother close. He chose to
ignore the fact that Dean was hiding himself, that Dean had shied away from
anything.
"It's not about me enjoying it. It's about doing enough to make money."
"Not anymore," Sam growled. Before Dean could respond, his giant of a brother
was completely wrapped around him, their lips pressed together. "No more, Dean.
You're mine."
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