fic: get real paid (sam/dean) rated r - for spn_j2_xmas
title: Get Real Paid
author: pez_gurl
rating: R
pairing: Dean/omcs; Sam/Dean
warnings: hooker!dean, a smidgen of breath play and attempted non-con
word count: 2100
summary: Dean runs out of money while Dad's away on a long hunt. He turns to desperate measures in order to earn some more. No underage sex, but Sam's 14 and Dean's 19.
disclaimer: Not mine.
a/n: Written for satsuki_angel for spn_j2_xmas. It's for her prompt of teen!chesters, Dean working as a hooker to get money while dad is out hunting. Sam does not know about Dean's way of getting money. I tried to write the J2 one, but that just wouldn't happen. I'm sorry it's so late, but I really wanted to make this good! Thanks to the mods for the extension and running such a great exchange!
Thanks to mirimeneume for the super-fast beta!
Dad leaves for a hunt in February. He says it’s a big one, really important, a lot of lives are depending on me, boy. Sam’s pissed off when John says he’s going to be gone for over a month. He tells Dean to take care of his brother. He leaves behind a few hundred dollars, which should last until Dean gets a job.
Dean’s out of school now, just turned nineteen, but he still doesn’t want to be left home with his constantly pissy brother. Sam’s still 14 and angry all the time. It gets fucking old, seriously, and Dean isn’t sure he can make it through without doing something…rash.
So Dean manages to get a shit job at the convenience store down the road, gets up with Sam, drops him off at school, is off in time to pick the kid up. He likes to think that Sam having his awesome brother pick him up in a car as hot as Dean’s - he got it for his 18th birthday, Dad just handed over the keys and said take care of her, son, I bought her for your mother - gets him some points with the kids at school.
Until he sees Sam come to the car wearing bruises and a bloody nose and he almost flips his shit. He drives home, speeding through the 35 miles-an-hour zones, demanding that Sam tells him who did this to you, Sammy, c’mon, I just wanna warn them off, but Sam won’t tell him a fucking thing. Says, I can take care of myself, it’s fine, I hurt them back.
But Dean doesn’t believe him. The kid’s knuckles aren’t even bruised. No way he hit back. Probably didn’t want anyone to think that his gangly body was really powerful and probably fucking lethal if Sam put his mind to it. Dean doesn’t get it, doesn’t know why Sam wanted everyone to think he was normal, because they aren’t. They are so fucking far from normal it scared Dean sometimes, but whatever.
Three days later, three guys - almost Dean’s age - come in. They’re obviously skipping school, Dean can tell that by the bags they have on their backs, and they sneak around and laugh randomly. When they get close, Dean can hear what they’re talking about.
Got that Winchester kid good, man, he fuckin’ cried, couldn’t take a single punch just went down, did you see that? What a pansy, what a fag, so fuckin’ weak. And Dean sees red.
When his vision clears, all three of them are on the ground, one unconscious, the other two whimpering and curled up. Dean’s knuckles are bloody, two shelves of chips and candy are knocked over, and Dean loses his job. The place doesn’t have a camera, thank god, and Dean gets away with saying that the assholes had gone after his brother and were trying to come after him it was self-defense, I swear, but Dad taught me how to fight like a Marine, that’s how I took them all.
He just loses all the money he made to pay for damages, and later that week, when they’re on their last can of Spaghettios, Dad calls and tells them he’s found another long hunt, he won’t be back till April, and Dean knows he has to do something drastic.
He isn’t sure what that is yet, but he’ll figure it out.
~~~~~~
Dean really doesn’t want to leave Sam all alone at the house, especially while he’s sleeping, but Dean’s desperate. He doesn’t know what made him think of it - probably the comments he hears from truckers sometimes about his lips - and he knows it’s a dumbass idea, but he feels like he has no other choice at this point.
He’s waiting near a bar, watching the door for someone that fits his idea for a guy who’d be looking for the kind of pleasure Dean’s willing to offer. He’s wearing tight jeans and one of Sam’s t-shirts, which means it’s skin tight on him. He’s got a knife hidden in his boot and he keeps biting his lips and licking them to make them more swollen.
Finally, fucking finally, some guy comes up to him, nervous and sweating. He’s not ugly, just…not attractive, either. A little overweight, balding, probably got a small dick. Dean can do this.
“One hundred,” the guy says. “Suck my dick, okay?”
Dean shrugs and nods, leads the guy around the side of the building and drops to his knees. The whole thing is disgusting and makes him nauseous but he keeps telling himself that this is for Sammy while the guy fucks his mouth. He doesn’t let the asshole come in his mouth, pulls off at the last second and the jizz go over his chin and neck. The guy is small, smaller than Dean who isn’t even fully grown, so there’s not a lot.
He gets his one hundred bucks and pulls out the tissues he’s keeping in his back pocket to clean up. The guy leaves and before he’s even out of sight, there’s another guy, a trucker this time, bigger and nasty looking. He looks like a talker and Dean really isn’t looking forward to this one.
“I’ll give you two hundred if you swallow,” the guy says, and Dean pauses half-way through getting up, then decides to stay on his knees and nods.
This one isn’t small at all. He’s rough and smells. His dick tastes sweaty and vaguely of piss in Dean’s mouth. He thrusts so deep Dean can’t breath and all of a sudden Dean’s turned on, dick hard in his jeans while this asshole fucks his mouth, telling Dean that he’s a good slut, so fucking good, god, lookit those lips, fucking made for this.
The guy holds Dean’s head down as he comes, forcing Dean to swallow even as he’s choking, eyes watering from lack of breath. The trucker drops four fifties next to Dean before tucking himself away and walking off, laughing. Dean’s not really turned on anymore.
Dean pockets the money and throws up before pushing to his feet and walking away, shaking and still nauseous. He goes into the bar, gets a cigarette from an older broad at the bar and smokes to get rid of the taste of come and vomit. It’s almost as bad, but it works. His senses are filled with the acrid smoke and nicotine, and Dean walks out with a second cigarette and heads home, three hundred dollars richer and feeling a lot better than he has since Dad left.
Sam’s still sleeping when he gets back and Dean goes through the house to make sure everything’s still the same before crawling in the other bed and passing out.
~~~~~~
Dean keeps this up for a month. It works, even if it’s giving him a cigarette addiction. But hey, those things get rid of the taste of come quite nicely. He’s still only giving out blowjobs - no one’s going to fuck his ass - but he has gotten a couple guys who want to be fucked, and he’s okay with that. He carries condoms on him just in case. He feels sick every time his dick gets hard when a guy’s fucking his mouth, but he ignores it. He’s good at that. He can’t control his body.
Then one night he comes home, and Sam’s sitting in the living room, curled into a ball on the couch. He looks like he’s been crying and Dean drops the cigarette, then steps on it to make sure he doesn’t set the house on fire.
“Sammy?” he says quietly, stepping closer to him. Sam sits up and glares at him.
“Where have you been, Dean? Why did you leave? Were you out having sex? Or getting drunk?”
Dean bites his lip hard. “I was working,” he says. It’s not a lie. “I…I was hustling. Pool. I just couldn’t take you with me, y’know? You’re too young.”
“Why couldn’t you tell me?!” Sam shouts. He’s crying again. “Dean, I woke up and you weren’t here and I was terrified! I thought something had got you, or…you were just gone.”
Dean goes to his knees in front of the couch and wraps his arms around Sam. “I’m sorry, Sammy, I really am. I just didn’t wanna know how bad off we were. I don’t like making you worry.”
“Well you did.” Sam doesn’t pull away though, he just clings onto Dean like a limpet. “Don’t do that again, Dean, please.”
Dean nods, even though he knows he’s going to do it again tomorrow night. He just has to get enough to last a while. When that gets low, he’ll do it again.
~~~~~~
Dean tries to spend the money wisely, but he sees Sam eyeing a series of books when they’re at the local Wal-Mart stocking up on underwear and socks. He splurges on them, some kind of food that Sam likes - Dean can tell because he always perks up and looks hungry whenever the commercial comes on - and a new pair of boots when he realizes the heel is coming off on his current pair.
It takes three weeks before they’re broke again. Sam goes to bed hungry but uncomplaining, Dad calls and says it’ll be another two weeks, and Dean sneaks out once Sam’s asleep.
He goes back to the same bar where he started. Two guys come back and Dean blows them - but only after making them use condoms. They’re both fat and sweaty and smell like they haven’t showered in a few days. It’s worth the rubbery taste in his mouth that lasts even after three cigarettes and two shots of whiskey.
Dean goes back out, still idly sucking on another cigarette. He waits, looking around, and spots a man who looks sort of like one of his Dad’s hunter friends, older, face covered in stubble, hard lines around his mouth.
“Well, hey there,” the man says. “What’s a pretty boy like you doing at a place like this?”
Dean’s played this game before. He tosses the cigarette down and crushes it with the toe of his boot. “Lookin’ to make someone a happy man. Wanna be that man?”
The man grins and before Dean can blink, he’s pressed against the building, face crushed into the wood, and the man’s yanking at his jeans. “Dude,” Dean says angrily. “What the hell, I don’t - I don’t fuck, I just suck, let me go, asshole!”
With a laugh, the man pushes his hips into Dean’s ass. “I know, darlin’. I’ve been watching you. If you’re going to be a whore, you gotta be willing to do everything. Not just one thing.”
Dean growls and thrashes against the man’s hold, managing to dislodge it long enough to grab the knife from his boot, the crushes his heel into the man’s toe.
The asshole shouts and stumbles back. Dean brandishes the knife at him, smiling with all his teeth. “No one gets to fuck this ass, you got it?”
Thank god, the man’s not as stupid as he looks and he takes off. Dean puts the knife away, fixes his jeans, and when he straightens, Sam’s standing in front of him, tears leaking down his cheeks and looking angrier than Dean’s ever seen him.
“You’re having sex for money,” Sam says, voice low and angry. “Dean, how could you do this? Why…why?”
Dean can’t think of anything to say that would make Sam happy. So he just smirks. “We needed the money, this was the easiest way. What’s wrong, Sammy? Does it offend you? Am I ruining your strict sense of morals?”
Sam punches him, surprisingly hard. It fucking hurts. Dean goes down with a soft cry, clutching at his jaw.
“You asshole,” Sam says, voice broken, then he’s kneeling next to Dean and - fuck, kissing him, hard and demanding and Dean really wants to know who taught his little brother to kiss. It’s so surprising and so good that Dean ends up kissing Sam back before pushing him away.
Sam just looks at him. “You can’t do this, Dean. You can’t sell your body and let other people use it. Please. Just…do it for me.”
“Sam,” Dean says. That’s all he can say. His mind is filed with Sam, Sam’s mouth on his, Sam’s pleading eyes. He swallows hard and nods.
“Okay,” he whispers, then pulls himself up. “Let’s just go home.”
He doesn’t know if he means it. If the money situation gets desperate enough, he might do it again. He just has to make sure Sam doesn’t find out.
end
author: pez_gurl
rating: R
pairing: Dean/omcs; Sam/Dean
warnings: hooker!dean, a smidgen of breath play and attempted non-con
word count: 2100
summary: Dean runs out of money while Dad's away on a long hunt. He turns to desperate measures in order to earn some more. No underage sex, but Sam's 14 and Dean's 19.
disclaimer: Not mine.
a/n: Written for satsuki_angel for spn_j2_xmas. It's for her prompt of teen!chesters, Dean working as a hooker to get money while dad is out hunting. Sam does not know about Dean's way of getting money. I tried to write the J2 one, but that just wouldn't happen. I'm sorry it's so late, but I really wanted to make this good! Thanks to the mods for the extension and running such a great exchange!
Thanks to mirimeneume for the super-fast beta!
Dad leaves for a hunt in February. He says it’s a big one, really important, a lot of lives are depending on me, boy. Sam’s pissed off when John says he’s going to be gone for over a month. He tells Dean to take care of his brother. He leaves behind a few hundred dollars, which should last until Dean gets a job.
Dean’s out of school now, just turned nineteen, but he still doesn’t want to be left home with his constantly pissy brother. Sam’s still 14 and angry all the time. It gets fucking old, seriously, and Dean isn’t sure he can make it through without doing something…rash.
So Dean manages to get a shit job at the convenience store down the road, gets up with Sam, drops him off at school, is off in time to pick the kid up. He likes to think that Sam having his awesome brother pick him up in a car as hot as Dean’s - he got it for his 18th birthday, Dad just handed over the keys and said take care of her, son, I bought her for your mother - gets him some points with the kids at school.
Until he sees Sam come to the car wearing bruises and a bloody nose and he almost flips his shit. He drives home, speeding through the 35 miles-an-hour zones, demanding that Sam tells him who did this to you, Sammy, c’mon, I just wanna warn them off, but Sam won’t tell him a fucking thing. Says, I can take care of myself, it’s fine, I hurt them back.
But Dean doesn’t believe him. The kid’s knuckles aren’t even bruised. No way he hit back. Probably didn’t want anyone to think that his gangly body was really powerful and probably fucking lethal if Sam put his mind to it. Dean doesn’t get it, doesn’t know why Sam wanted everyone to think he was normal, because they aren’t. They are so fucking far from normal it scared Dean sometimes, but whatever.
Three days later, three guys - almost Dean’s age - come in. They’re obviously skipping school, Dean can tell that by the bags they have on their backs, and they sneak around and laugh randomly. When they get close, Dean can hear what they’re talking about.
Got that Winchester kid good, man, he fuckin’ cried, couldn’t take a single punch just went down, did you see that? What a pansy, what a fag, so fuckin’ weak. And Dean sees red.
When his vision clears, all three of them are on the ground, one unconscious, the other two whimpering and curled up. Dean’s knuckles are bloody, two shelves of chips and candy are knocked over, and Dean loses his job. The place doesn’t have a camera, thank god, and Dean gets away with saying that the assholes had gone after his brother and were trying to come after him it was self-defense, I swear, but Dad taught me how to fight like a Marine, that’s how I took them all.
He just loses all the money he made to pay for damages, and later that week, when they’re on their last can of Spaghettios, Dad calls and tells them he’s found another long hunt, he won’t be back till April, and Dean knows he has to do something drastic.
He isn’t sure what that is yet, but he’ll figure it out.
~~~~~~
Dean really doesn’t want to leave Sam all alone at the house, especially while he’s sleeping, but Dean’s desperate. He doesn’t know what made him think of it - probably the comments he hears from truckers sometimes about his lips - and he knows it’s a dumbass idea, but he feels like he has no other choice at this point.
He’s waiting near a bar, watching the door for someone that fits his idea for a guy who’d be looking for the kind of pleasure Dean’s willing to offer. He’s wearing tight jeans and one of Sam’s t-shirts, which means it’s skin tight on him. He’s got a knife hidden in his boot and he keeps biting his lips and licking them to make them more swollen.
Finally, fucking finally, some guy comes up to him, nervous and sweating. He’s not ugly, just…not attractive, either. A little overweight, balding, probably got a small dick. Dean can do this.
“One hundred,” the guy says. “Suck my dick, okay?”
Dean shrugs and nods, leads the guy around the side of the building and drops to his knees. The whole thing is disgusting and makes him nauseous but he keeps telling himself that this is for Sammy while the guy fucks his mouth. He doesn’t let the asshole come in his mouth, pulls off at the last second and the jizz go over his chin and neck. The guy is small, smaller than Dean who isn’t even fully grown, so there’s not a lot.
He gets his one hundred bucks and pulls out the tissues he’s keeping in his back pocket to clean up. The guy leaves and before he’s even out of sight, there’s another guy, a trucker this time, bigger and nasty looking. He looks like a talker and Dean really isn’t looking forward to this one.
“I’ll give you two hundred if you swallow,” the guy says, and Dean pauses half-way through getting up, then decides to stay on his knees and nods.
This one isn’t small at all. He’s rough and smells. His dick tastes sweaty and vaguely of piss in Dean’s mouth. He thrusts so deep Dean can’t breath and all of a sudden Dean’s turned on, dick hard in his jeans while this asshole fucks his mouth, telling Dean that he’s a good slut, so fucking good, god, lookit those lips, fucking made for this.
The guy holds Dean’s head down as he comes, forcing Dean to swallow even as he’s choking, eyes watering from lack of breath. The trucker drops four fifties next to Dean before tucking himself away and walking off, laughing. Dean’s not really turned on anymore.
Dean pockets the money and throws up before pushing to his feet and walking away, shaking and still nauseous. He goes into the bar, gets a cigarette from an older broad at the bar and smokes to get rid of the taste of come and vomit. It’s almost as bad, but it works. His senses are filled with the acrid smoke and nicotine, and Dean walks out with a second cigarette and heads home, three hundred dollars richer and feeling a lot better than he has since Dad left.
Sam’s still sleeping when he gets back and Dean goes through the house to make sure everything’s still the same before crawling in the other bed and passing out.
~~~~~~
Dean keeps this up for a month. It works, even if it’s giving him a cigarette addiction. But hey, those things get rid of the taste of come quite nicely. He’s still only giving out blowjobs - no one’s going to fuck his ass - but he has gotten a couple guys who want to be fucked, and he’s okay with that. He carries condoms on him just in case. He feels sick every time his dick gets hard when a guy’s fucking his mouth, but he ignores it. He’s good at that. He can’t control his body.
Then one night he comes home, and Sam’s sitting in the living room, curled into a ball on the couch. He looks like he’s been crying and Dean drops the cigarette, then steps on it to make sure he doesn’t set the house on fire.
“Sammy?” he says quietly, stepping closer to him. Sam sits up and glares at him.
“Where have you been, Dean? Why did you leave? Were you out having sex? Or getting drunk?”
Dean bites his lip hard. “I was working,” he says. It’s not a lie. “I…I was hustling. Pool. I just couldn’t take you with me, y’know? You’re too young.”
“Why couldn’t you tell me?!” Sam shouts. He’s crying again. “Dean, I woke up and you weren’t here and I was terrified! I thought something had got you, or…you were just gone.”
Dean goes to his knees in front of the couch and wraps his arms around Sam. “I’m sorry, Sammy, I really am. I just didn’t wanna know how bad off we were. I don’t like making you worry.”
“Well you did.” Sam doesn’t pull away though, he just clings onto Dean like a limpet. “Don’t do that again, Dean, please.”
Dean nods, even though he knows he’s going to do it again tomorrow night. He just has to get enough to last a while. When that gets low, he’ll do it again.
~~~~~~
Dean tries to spend the money wisely, but he sees Sam eyeing a series of books when they’re at the local Wal-Mart stocking up on underwear and socks. He splurges on them, some kind of food that Sam likes - Dean can tell because he always perks up and looks hungry whenever the commercial comes on - and a new pair of boots when he realizes the heel is coming off on his current pair.
It takes three weeks before they’re broke again. Sam goes to bed hungry but uncomplaining, Dad calls and says it’ll be another two weeks, and Dean sneaks out once Sam’s asleep.
He goes back to the same bar where he started. Two guys come back and Dean blows them - but only after making them use condoms. They’re both fat and sweaty and smell like they haven’t showered in a few days. It’s worth the rubbery taste in his mouth that lasts even after three cigarettes and two shots of whiskey.
Dean goes back out, still idly sucking on another cigarette. He waits, looking around, and spots a man who looks sort of like one of his Dad’s hunter friends, older, face covered in stubble, hard lines around his mouth.
“Well, hey there,” the man says. “What’s a pretty boy like you doing at a place like this?”
Dean’s played this game before. He tosses the cigarette down and crushes it with the toe of his boot. “Lookin’ to make someone a happy man. Wanna be that man?”
The man grins and before Dean can blink, he’s pressed against the building, face crushed into the wood, and the man’s yanking at his jeans. “Dude,” Dean says angrily. “What the hell, I don’t - I don’t fuck, I just suck, let me go, asshole!”
With a laugh, the man pushes his hips into Dean’s ass. “I know, darlin’. I’ve been watching you. If you’re going to be a whore, you gotta be willing to do everything. Not just one thing.”
Dean growls and thrashes against the man’s hold, managing to dislodge it long enough to grab the knife from his boot, the crushes his heel into the man’s toe.
The asshole shouts and stumbles back. Dean brandishes the knife at him, smiling with all his teeth. “No one gets to fuck this ass, you got it?”
Thank god, the man’s not as stupid as he looks and he takes off. Dean puts the knife away, fixes his jeans, and when he straightens, Sam’s standing in front of him, tears leaking down his cheeks and looking angrier than Dean’s ever seen him.
“You’re having sex for money,” Sam says, voice low and angry. “Dean, how could you do this? Why…why?”
Dean can’t think of anything to say that would make Sam happy. So he just smirks. “We needed the money, this was the easiest way. What’s wrong, Sammy? Does it offend you? Am I ruining your strict sense of morals?”
Sam punches him, surprisingly hard. It fucking hurts. Dean goes down with a soft cry, clutching at his jaw.
“You asshole,” Sam says, voice broken, then he’s kneeling next to Dean and - fuck, kissing him, hard and demanding and Dean really wants to know who taught his little brother to kiss. It’s so surprising and so good that Dean ends up kissing Sam back before pushing him away.
Sam just looks at him. “You can’t do this, Dean. You can’t sell your body and let other people use it. Please. Just…do it for me.”
“Sam,” Dean says. That’s all he can say. His mind is filed with Sam, Sam’s mouth on his, Sam’s pleading eyes. He swallows hard and nods.
“Okay,” he whispers, then pulls himself up. “Let’s just go home.”
He doesn’t know if he means it. If the money situation gets desperate enough, he might do it again. He just has to make sure Sam doesn’t find out.
end