Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3317057.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Other(s)
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Prostitution, Age_Difference, Size_Difference, Feminization,
      Rape/Non-con_Elements, Non-Consensual_Oral_Sex, Humiliation, Rape, Sam
      Knows
  Series:
      Part 1 of Anything_to_Keep_You
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-09 Completed: 2017-03-07 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 5699
****** Will Work For Food ******
by bluewhitewings
Summary
     One of a series of drabbles about Dean making personal (and probably
     kinky) sacrifices to keep Sam safe and healthy. They've run out of
     food and the hotel manager calls in a favor.
***** Chapter 1 *****
John had been gone for weeks and the money had run out. The hotel had been paid
up through the end of the month, and he had groceries, but Sam was growing and
he didn't know if anybody would hire him for labor in the cold of a Minnesota
February. He had grown quite a bit in the last couple years but was still under
six feet and thin as a rail.

He was in the hotel lobby, feeding quarters into the vending machine to buy
really anything that wasn't peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, when the
manager called him by name.
"You're Dean, right? Winchester?" he asked in a low drawl. The manager was
named Joseph, and Dean liked him well enough. He knew that Dean and Sam were
alone, but let them be and didn't bother calling CPS, like some other managers.
"John Winchester's boy. Got a message for you from your pa." Dean perked up
instantly, punching in the number for snickers and collecting his prize before
going to the counter.

Dean picked up the paper and scanned it quick, frowning. "Dad's not gonna be
back until the end of March." Figures started adding up and Dean could feel the
stress pricking at the back of his eyes. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Did he leave
a number?" he asked Joseph, pleading and panicky. The manager shook his head,
slow and apologetic.
"No, son. Just said to let you know and hung up. Sounded rushed." He moved
around the counter and took Dean's shoulder in his hand, the thick, work
hardened hands wrapping around Dean's thin shoulder under the bulk of his coat.
"You worried about money, son?" he asked softly. "I got a few jobs around here
that could be done if you need to pay for the room." Dean stared at him, wary,
but hopeful.

"Like what?" he asked, unable to keep suspicion out of his voice.

"Don't look like that, boy, I meant electrical work. Cleaning. Repairing chairs
and I got a boiler that won't stay on half the time you could work on if you
knew you wouldn't break it for good." Dean relaxed; he wasn't sure what he'd
been so afraid of. "That's the room, if you work say... four hours a day after
school. Just weekdays. You can have the weekends off." Dean calculated. Twenty
hours a month to keep a roof over his and Sam's head? Doable. And he could work
somewhere else to make enough for food.

"Deal." he agreed quickly.
"Good boy," Joseph said agreeably, patting him on the back and giving him
directions for the week.
 
It was easy enough work. Joseph had a list for him in the office and after
school, Dean went there to pick up tasks. He worked hard, John had taught him
to work hard at everything, and left Sammy to his homework. The kid was a nerd
and he knew he could count on him to get it all done. The second Friday he'd
worked, though, he ran into a real problem. No one else had been interested in
hiring him, and Sam had eaten the last dregs of peanut butter the day before.

Despondent, he visited the lobby to tell Joseph he had finished for the evening
and would be going back to the room. Joseph watched him quietly and nodded.

"You doing all right, Dean?" he asked. "You look sick." Dean would normally
never admit the problems he had run up against, but he had been puzzling over
the problem all day and felt hopeless.

"I'm outta food. Me and Sam don't have anything and nobody else will hire me."
he blurted out, feeling his ears burning red with the humiliation. Joseph
stroked at his chin, watching him.

"That's a shame, Dean. Pity I can't afford to pay you more, you're a fine
worker." He clicked his tongue and looked over at the boy, brown eyes warm.
"Let me make a phone call and see if any of my friends have somethin' you could
do for 'em. Go on back to the room for now, and I'll call you if I find
anything."
Dean went back to the room, sighing. Joseph wouldn't find anything and he'd
have to start stealing again to get food, then he'd get arrested again. But by
the time he got to the room, he could hear the phone ringing through the door.
He burst in, startling Sam, who was ignoring the phone as he'd been taught, and
lunged for it. "Hello?"

"Dean, I got a buddy who might wanna give you a chance. Can you head over to
room 17? It's unlocked, told him to meet you there and you guys could work
something out." Without a thought to his safety, Dean thanked him breathlessly
and dashed across the lot to room 17. It was clear on the other end of the
hotel, separated from the rest of the complex by an ice machine. He opened the
door and sat in the room, flipping through pages from Gideon's bible as he
waited nervously.

Soon, the door opened. A tall man entered, looking him over and Dean sprang
nervously to his feet and stood straight and tall, as his father had taught
him.
"You Dean?" the man asked, looking him over and Dean fought to look as solid as
he could.

"Yessir." he replied. The man was not just tall, he realized as he moved
closer, but thick with muscle, powerful and tan.

"I'm Brody. Pleasure to meet you. You're looking for some spare cash?" Dean
swallowed and his green eyes flicked up to the man's face as he realized he was
about eye level with the guy's pectorals.

"Yeah. I can work. I've been working for Joseph." Brody looked him over.

"Take off your coat." Dean hesitated, then slid his coat off, dropping it over
the chair. He was wearing clothes that were handed down from John, and he was
swimming in them.

"I know I don't look very strong but it's cause I grew up first instead of
out." he tried to explain as Brody reached into his pocket and pulled out his
wallet. Dean felt a flash of confusion that disappeared immediately as he saw
the three twenties that he pulled from his wallet. Sixty dollars would feed
them both until March if he was careful with it.
"Youll do." Brody said, setting the twenties on top of the TV and before Dean
knew what was happening, he was on the bed, the much larger man pulling off his
own coat and moving towards him.

"What the hell?" he shouted, fear blossoming in the pit of his stomach. The
room at the end of the hotel, the money, the coat, suddenly it all made sense
and he struggled to remove himself from the bed. But before he could truly get
his bearings, the man was on him, straddling his hips and dragging the shirt
off his back. "No!" Dean cried, kicking out and fighting to keep it on.

In a panic, he yelped for help, but a large hand closed over his mouth and the
warm breath of the stranger warmed his ear as he spoke. "Don't struggle, Dean.
Don't scream. That money is for you if you behave yourself." He shook, and he
could feel tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. "Joseph
told me you were broke, don't you want some extra spending money?" the voice in
his ear was smooth, comforting. "If you show me how much you like it, I'll give
you a tip on top of the sixty."

Dean's voice broke in a sob, but he willed himself to still, forcing his
trembling body to stop struggling. He felt broad hands smoothing up his back,
pulling the shirt over his head and saw it fall to the surface of the bed.
Thick fingers hooked into the back of his jeans and tugged his hips up and the
weight of the man behind him vanished. As the huge hands curled around in front
of him to unbutton the worn denim, he fought the urge to bolt and lost.

With a surge of fear-fueled energy, he lunged out of the oversized jeans and
rolled off the edge of the bed, dashing for the door in a freckled blur of pale
skin. His fingers had just touched the doorknob when arms closed around him,
hauling him back to the bed and throwing him down as Brody's handsome face went
dark.

"That's not very nice of you, whore, running away when I'm giving you so much
money." Dean kicked and fought, but it only seemed to urge on his assailant,
his hips forcing between Dean's thin thighs and a hard, throbbing heat pushing
against Dean's own limp cock. "I was gonna make it good for you, but you're not
being a very good girl." Dean tried to scream again, but one hand came crashing
down over his mouth and nose and he froze as his air was cut off.

With a rough tug, his underwear was gone, dragged off his flailing legs or torn
off, he didn't know, and shoved into his mouth, the clammy taste of his own
fear-sweat on his tongue. He made a muffled noise of protest, trying to push it
out with his tongue, but it was too deep to push out and it dried his mouth as
he tried.

Brody flipped him, pushing Dean's face to the bed with one hand, hard enough
that he swore he could feel his skull creaking, and he heard a zipper behind
him, and the thick, wet sound of slick flesh meeting slick flesh. All he could
do was moan piteously, pleadingly as he pushed against the blankets on the bed,
trying to get enough air to breathe in.

When wet fingers met his balls, he jumped, redoubling his efforts to get away
until he felt the denim covered legs shove against his own, parting them and a
finger press into his clenched body. The feeling was alien, awful, burning, but
struggling made it worse so he stilled, tears slipping from his eyes and a
muffled sob leaving him as he felt his virgin rim stretch around the lubricated
fingertip.

"Yes, good girl. You're a virgin, aren't you?" he purred above Dean, and Dean
didn't deign to answer him, too busy sobbing against the gag of his own boxers
to articulate. "So tight, mm, you're gonna feel so good when I breed up your
virgin pussy."

The finger left, then was joined by a second, hot and slick and stretching Dean
in ways he'd never been stretched, muscle and skin straining to take the digits
coaxing him open. Dean whimpered; it was awful but the burn was fading and
making it almost bearable when the fingers dragged out of him and he felt
unspeakable horror as the thick, blunt head of a fully grown man's penis
pressed against his puckered hole.

"You're gonna have to let me in, baby. I like my bitches tight. Like feeling
them squeeze down on me while I breed them up." The hand on the back of his
skull left and Dean felt Brody's arm wrap around his thin chest as his muscular
hips pushed forward to try to pry Dean's resistant body wide around the
mushroom head of his dick.

It took a moment for Dean to realize his hands were free amid all the pain and
indignity, and as soon as he did he yanked his boxers out of his mouth, gulping
sweet oxygen and letting it out in an agonized yelp as soon as the first inch
pushed into him. "No, please, god, it hurts!"

"Shhh, baby. I wanna hear you tell me how much I fill you up." Lube slick
fingers slid around Dean's rim, giving an extra bit of lubrication while he was
in too much agony to struggle, and Brody's hands fastened around his slim
hipbones.

Brody dragged his resisting body back, sinking the full eight inches of
throbbing flesh into him, stretching him wide while his unforgiving hands kept
Dean in place. Finally his balls pressed right up behind Dean's own and he gave
a satisfied sigh, the twitching heat of the sixteen year old's virgin ass
keeping him trapped securely in the depths.

Dean whimpered in pain, his body clenching and releasing on the thick invader,
his eyes squeezed tight as his hands fisted in the tacky blanket. As he tried
to get used to it, Brody pulled back slowly, sending fresh waves of agony
through him, then pushed back into him. Dean bowed his back, whining, and Brody
reached down to palm his cock and balls.
Dean wasn't aroused, his cock limp, but something about the touch sent him
towards pleasure, his eyes flying open as suddenly he felt something other than
pain. The warm hand massaging his balls made the agonizing thrusts light him up
slightly, sending the occasional spike of pleasure through him despite himself.

"That's it, little girl. You like it when I rub your clit, hmm?" Dean breathed
out in frustration, the condescending tone nearly as awful as the dick
spreading him wide, but Brody's fingers tugged over just the head of his cock
and he bucked his hips. "You want my load deep inside your womb..." he muttered
almost to himself as he started rutting against Dean in earnest, pulling back
nearly all the way and then slamming back in, his balls slapping hard against
Dean's.

Dean couldn't help it now, some combination of the hand on his dick, the huge
cock inside him, or the words, but he was getting hard, swelling and growing in
Brody's hand as the much larger man bent over him, hips slapping against him
with every rough, primal thrust. Dean found himself pushing back to drive him
deeper, his voice rising in protest and pleasure all at once, his eyes
squeezing shut as he sought an edge he didn't want.

"Go on, baby girl, tell me you want me to cum in your pussy," came the
breathless request and Dean mindlessly complied, dazed and clutching at the
blankets for dear life.
"Want you in my pussy," he moaned, struggling to get his knees under himself.

"Tell me you want me to knock you up." the man growled and huffed, and Dean
could feel the cock in him swelling in pleasure.

"Knock me up!" he urged, the throbbing inside him almost too much to bear as he
felt Brody slam hard into him and hold him there, ass pressed back against his
much larger hips as his balls pulsed. Dean could feel wet heat fire into him in
several thick, gooey spurts, spraying down his walls and dripping inside him.
The pulsing of the rod inside him and the possessive hands on his hip and cock
set him off, his own orgasm ripping through him and sending his body clutching
around the still firing cock buried deep in his ass, even as he striped the
blanket beneath him with white, his twitching dick splattering an impressive
puddle between his splayed thighs.

The larger man pulled free of him, leaving his rim puffy and sore and dribbling
white. Dean could hear him dressing, fixing his pants and pulling on his coat.
He slowly shifted to his side, sending another pulse of sticky semen dripping
down his thigh, he saw the three twenties flutter down in front of his nose,
and another ten follow it.

"Thanks." Brody said, and Dean felt the rush of cold air of the door opening
and heard it shut before he let the sweet embrace of sleep take him, the wad of
cash clutched in his hand and evidence of his use seeping out of his hole to
leave a sticky mess between his cheeks.
***** Three's A Crowd *****
Chapter Summary
     Dean will do anything to keep Sam safe and fed. But the siren song of
     money is a powerful one that may get him in over his head.
Brody visited once a week on Fridays, and Dean set aside time when he was sure
Sam would be absorbed in homework or some other distraction. He was sore for
two days after, but since it was the weekend and the hotel manager never made
him work, he could rest and be fine for school. Sam noticed his limp sometimes,
but Dean could always find an excuse. While at first he'd resisted, he was
beginning to find that he actually sort of liked the sex. And he definitely
liked the money.
It was the first Friday in March and Dean hadn't heard from his father yet.
He'd agreed to meet Brody, and set Sam up with a DVD player he had bought from
a secondhand store and an old copy of the Lion King. Sam was enthralled as Dean
left the room, letting the door close behind him and shutting Elton John's
voice in with his kid brother.
The walk across the parking lot to room 17 was pleasant. Spring hadn't quite
sprung, but it was one of the nicer days. Brody had requested he be clean and
look nice, and he was heading there in clothes he'd gotten at the same second
hand store that fit a little better than his hand me downs.
As usual, Dean slipped into the room and he was thankful for the few moments of
alone time before Brody arrived. He sat on the edge of the bed, folding his
hands in his lap. The door opened and he looked up, worrying his lower lip.
Brody entered and Dean stood, keeping his hands folded as he looked through his
lashes at the older man, in a way he knew he liked.
"Hello, bitch." It was never names with the larger man. Brody slid his hand to
the back of Dean's neck and yanked him forward to stand ready at the doorway.
"Do you want to make more money today? I brought a friend." Dean looked up to
the other man that stood in the doorway and then at Brody.
"How much more?" he asked, his eyes drifting back to the stranger. He wasn't as
tall as Brody but he looked like a heavyweight champion.
"A hundred." the stranger answered promptly. Dean could feel the urge to let
his eyes bug out of his head but desperately tried to play it cool. "And
whatever he's paying you." The guy added, jerking his head at Brody.
Dean cleared his throat and tried to calm his thundering heart. Almost two
hundred dollars. And he already had enough for food for the foreseeable future.
"Yeah. All right." He slid his coat off his shoulders and tossed it over the
chair, then bit his lip. "In cash?"
The stranger pulled out five twenties and set them atop the tv. "In cash." Dean
swallowed tightly as he considered the money.
The truth was, Dean was afraid. He was scared of the stranger, scared of the
possibility that he would get STDs, and worse, that his brother would find out.
It was already hard to hide one load seeping out of him, the thick cream
soaking through his underwear any time he sat still. How in the world would he
hide two? He glanced back at the twenties and looked meekly up at Brody. "Can
he wear a condom?" Dean asked quietly.
"Fuck, no, I'm not wearing a condom." The other man said, angrily moving
towards him. "I'm coming in you bare and you're gonna feel it, you little
whore." Dean gave a startled yelp in alarm and tried to skitter out of his
grip, but Brody grabbed him by the arm. The larger man laughed, holding him as
the stranger crashed into him, rough hands scrambling at the button of his
jeans and squeezing his cock through the denim.
Brody held his flailing arms and ignored his tears as the other man shoved his
jeans down his slim hips, his underwear trapped in the tangle of denim as well.
Dean felt the cold air on his bare ass and his body clenched unconsciously.
Positioned as he was, he couldn't see what was happening behind him, and the
grip on his arms was tight enough to be painful if he tried. He gave a small
struggle and fought to be free of Brody's grip, but all it earned him was a
slap hard enough to make his ears ring. Even over the ringing, he could hear
the distinctive sound of a cap being popped and lube being squirted into a
hand. Like a startled horse, he slid his hips to the side, trying to keep his
tender ass away from the invasion he knew was coming.
Thick fingers spread his firm cheeks and one, cold and slick, pressed to his
hole. He yelped and his body jumped, and the thick finger speared forward into
him, prying his rim open and pressing lube deep inside. He bucked and whined as
it left, and returned with a second finger, pressing lube into his aching ass.
"That'll do it." Came Brody's voice above him, thick with arousal. "Just
getcherself lubed and take her." Dean panted, struggling, but it did nothing to
protect him. The slick heat of a heavy dick slid between his cheeks and pushed
against his barely stretched hole. For a moment that was all, but too soon it
pushed forward, stretching him wide as he pushed his face into Brody's chest
and screamed. It wasn't enough, it was never enough preparation, but at least
they used enough lube. Heavy hands slid up to his hips and gripped there,
yanking him back onto the burning hot shaft.
The stranger grunted as he bottomed out in Dean, his breath gusting against the
youths neck. His hands slid to his ass, pulling his cheeks apart to watch the
throbbing flesh pull from Dean's abused rim, slipping from him with a wet sound
before the larger man pushed back in. "Fuck, she's tight. You sure you've been
breeding the same bitch?"
Dean whimpered. It didn't matter how much it hurt or how much he protested. He
was their bitch, made to be bred. And what he wanted didn't matter. The
thrusting shaft inside him burned still, but with their words he was beginning
to respond, his own unattended shaft swelling untouched between his thighs.
Brody’s hand in his hair dragged him down so he was bent more thoroughly, his
ass in the air and his face coming in contact with the bare shaft he was more
familiar with. With a grimace of pain, he ignored the slapping of the
Heavyweight Champ’s hips against his ass and studied Brody’s cock in a more
intimate setting than he ever had before. Thick and veiny, it stood proudly.
“Suck it, you little whore.” he heard growled from above him, and he whimpered
and tensed his body, rolling his hips back to meet a particularly pleasurable
thrust. His tongue slipped out of his mouth and he traced the side of it,
following the veins up to the head before licking around the crown. “And mind
your fucking teeth. If I feel teeth I’ll knock ‘em out.”
Dean nodded, knowing that Brody was absolutely as good as his word in that
respect, and pressed his lips to the tip of his shaft. He was spreading them
slowly to take him in when a particularly hard thrust knocked him forward and
his teeth grazed over Brody’s thick head, the foreign taste of precum smearing
over his tongue. It was huge, stretching his lips and jaw wide and he
shuddered, his hands coming up to brace himself against the tall man’s hips.
Brody laughed and twisted his arm back, then the other, keeping them there.
Another thrust sent the cock in his mouth right to his throat, throbbing right
there and making his eyes water. “Oh, shit, Rusty, you’re gonna make this
little bitch cry. Give her another good one.” Dean squealed his protest, but of
course it fell on deaf ears as the thick head shoved into his throat. Brody
released one of his arms, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him fully
onto his dick.
Dean’s head was spinning. His ass had never hurt more in his life, and his
throat now burned too. He wanted it to end, but he wasn’t sure if it ever
would. The man fucking him was close, Dean could tell by the sounds he was
making, and every thrust jerked his mouth around on Brody’s cock. His air was
going, and everything was getting dimmer, and Dean’s body instinctively began
to struggle. His free arm went to Brody’s hip, slapping at him to free himself.
“Aw, fuck, that’s right! Choke the little bitch with your dick.” the Champion,
Rusty, exclaimed and Dean barely heard it before the rod in his ass pulsed and
heat flooded into him in hot, thick bursts. He choked, bucking his hips and
trying to get away from the hot pain, but he had been weakened by his lack of
air and all he managed was to impale himself further on the still throbbing
shaft.
Brody finally pulled out of his mouth and the first breath he took was sweet,
sweet torture. The cold air burned over his throat as he gulped it into his
struggling lungs, his eyes fluttering desperately. “Fuck you,” he croaked,
furious at the way he’d been treated.
“What, baby girl, do you think you were going to be treated like a princess
every time?” Brody asked with a laugh, spinning his mostly boneless body and
throwing him over the bed.
“No, please, it hurts!” he whined, fear spiking in his belly at the thought of
the pain he’d be in if Brody took him without lube. He was huge.
“Too bad, little girl.” he growled, slapping his ass hard. Brody’s rough hands
held his trembling body in place as he lined up the thick cock with Dean’s
abused hole, and began to sink into his puffy rim. Grateful for the mess that
already coated his cheeks, Dean gave a relieved sigh as Brody bottomed out
without causing him more pain. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Without waiting
for an answer to his mocking platitude, Brody pulled his full length out and
thrust into him swiftly, setting a brutal pace. Dean let it rock him, keep him
hard but not push him over the edge as he floated, his hands braced on the bed
and his head hanging.
Brody’s shaft slamming into him made a slick sound, and semen and lube dripped
down the back of his balls to pool under him on the floor, and Dean sighed,
knowing he would eventually have to clean it up. The rough hands on his hips
tightened, leaving a second pair of fingerprint bruises next to the first as
Brody hauled him backwards so that he was fully buried in Dean, his cock
throbbing and pulsing as thick wads of semen burst into his aching ass. It was
the last thing he felt before drifting out of his mind.
~~~
Dean woke to find himself alone, left partially naked on the bed, a full two
hundred and fifty dollars sitting on the bedside table. It was dark, too dark,
and he knew he had to get back to Sam before his brother worried. He dragged
his boxers back on and clenched to try to keep in the flood of semen that
filled him, his abused rim tightening down to keep himself clean until he could
shower. The walk back to the room was eternal, his limbs not moving any faster
than a slow limp. Despite his best efforts, he could feel the semen trickling
out of him, and it was leaving wet spots on his jeans. As he let himself in and
slowly closed the door behind him, he turned back just in time to see Sam
slowly replace the phone in the receiver.
“Are you serious? Do you know what time it is? I almost called the cops.” Sam
slid off the bed, almost four and a half feet of rage. “I am starving! My brain
needs food or I’m never going to college, okay?” Dean choked a small laugh and
shouldered past Sam, hoping to god the stains on his pants would look like
grease stains.
“Well, I need a shower.” he said roughly. He was surprised at how gravelly his
voice sounded, and cleared his throat, the taste of precum filling his mouth.
“Order something and by the time it gets here, I’ll be clean.”
Sam recoiled from him. “Dude, you smell like ass.” he said, waving his hand in
front of his nose and retreating to the bed. “Like rank ass.”
Dean blanched and fled to the bathroom, shouting as he went. “Shut up, Sammy.
Do your fucking homework.” He slammed the bathroom door closed behind him and
tore off his shirt, staring at himself in the mirror. The pattern of bruises
was unmistakeable. He was in the middle of absently trying to fit his fingers
to one set of fingerprints when he heard Sam’s shocked voice. In his rush, he
had forgotten the tricky latch on the bathroom door, and it had crept back
open.
“Holy shit, Dean. What happened to you?”
***** The First Rule *****
Chapter Summary
     Dean has a terrible realization.
“I’m telling Dad.” Sam said, nothing but absolute fact in his tone as he headed
towards the phone.
“No! Sam, Dad’s busy. He left us here and I’m taking care of us, all right?
Just chill out.” He managed to blurt out through the haze of panic, his terror
of being caught come true. “It’s a fighting ring. And you can’t tell Dad cause
he’ll kill us both.” It was bullshit, but it was bullshit that would explain
the bruises. Sort of.
Sam narrowed his eyes at him, glaring in suspicion. “No it fucking isn’t. Don’t
fuck with me, Dean, I know things. What the hell kind of kinky shit have you
been doing?”
Dean puffed up his slim chest and pulled his shirt back on. “Fighting, I told
you. How’d you like your baby lion movie, baby brother?” He tried to turn the
tables on Sam, throw him off balance so he would be forced to defend himself
instead of turning his full, freakishly observant attention on Dean.
It worked. Sam puffed up and threw himself back to the bed, scowling. “It’s a
retelling of Hamlet, dumbass.” He sat up a few moments later, fixing Dean with
a bright gaze. “Are you any good?”
“What?” Dean stammered, caught off guard and hoping to god Sam didn’t mean
anything weird.
“At fighting. Do you win?” he asked, excitedly. Dean relaxed. Sam was asking
about it, which meant that he had bought into the lie, at least for the moment.
He bent, picking up clean clothes and struggling to keep the mess inside him
where it was.
“How do you think I got you all that stuff?” He nodded at the DVD player and
grinned. “I’m okay. I mean, I guess I do all right.” Sam’s grin went from
excited to proud, and Dean chuckled before he felt a trickle of liquid slide
down his thigh. He could feel his face freezing into a horrified grin.
“Next time you go, I’m going too. I want to watch.” Sam said with vehemence and
Dean cleared his throat. He would have liked to argue, but at that moment he
felt more of the mess escape him and backed towards the bathroom.
“No. Order something for dinner, I’ll be out soon!” Dean called as he closed
the bathroom door behind him, making sure it was properly closed and latched
before he climbed into the shower and turned on the spray.
He undressed under the hot water, twisting to watch the thick, pearly jizz drip
from him. With careful fingers, he explored the damage to his ass, each touch
making him gasp as his body, pent up from all the stimulation, immediately
reacted. He wasn’t terribly damaged this time, tender but not bleeding.
Pressing his face against the wall of the shower, he slowly pushed one finger
into himself. He told himself he was checking for internal damage even as his
other hand wrapped around his dick.
Scenes flashed quickly into his mind. The way they’d grabbed him, thrown him
around, fucked his throat. The way it felt to be used with no regard for his
own pleasure. He stifled a moan by biting down on his lower lip and added
another finger, then a third. Only then did his fingers bear a passing
resemblance to the thick cocks he was used to taking now. He thrust, awkwardly
at first, but finding a rhythm shortly that had him bucking his hips and
thrusting needfully into his curled fist.
Dean had never really had the courage to finger himself before, but he hadn’t
orgasmed all evening, and he needed to get off. His hips jerked as he arched
his back, imagining vividly the bruising grip on his hips and the pulsing of
heat in his ass. He gave a rough groan as the orgasm punched out of him, his
clenching balls sending streaks of viscous white all over the tacky plastic
tile of the shower. He could feel whatever was left of the two men dripping
down his hand as he convulsed and clenched on his fingers, panting like a
bellows.
Sam banged on the wall and shouted something rude at him, and Dean managed to
rouse himself enough to pull his fingers free and rinse off the wall. He stood
under the spray, bone tired now, and yawned under the pounding water. It was a
pretty good story, that he was part of a fighting ring. Sort of like Spiderman.
Dean grinned, then his smile abruptly faded.
What if Sam followed him to the door at the end of the hotel? He couldn’t
imagine that Brody and whatever friend he brought next time would send Sam
away. Dean could bear getting fucked within an inch of his life, but he was
sixteen and he could handle it. Sammy was only twelve, and smartass attitude or
not, he didn’t deserve the same treatment. Dean shuddered. He would have to
take extra precautions to ensure that Sam didn’t get himself in trouble.
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