Don't Lie To Me, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Don't Lie to Me
Pairing/Characters: Sam/OMC, Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3500
Summary: This is the sequel to Don't Go Out Tonight, Don't Say No, and Don't Say You're Sorry, Don't Leave Me, Don't Ask Me to Stay and Don't Close Your Eyes. Sam has a plan, but when Mosley arrives on the scene, can he hold it together long enough to make it happen?
A/Ns & Warnings: This is Hooker!fic. Dean was hooking to make money for him and Sam to live on, and after Mosley, Sam finds it easier to do the same than he ever thought possible. This is very dark and angsty. Apparently this has also sort of spawned a verse...because every time I think I reached the end, I realize there's more story to tell.
They didn’t talk. Not about the way Dean’s hand wrapped around Sam’s cock and stroked him. Not about the way Sam kissed Dean all frantic and desperate and held him to keep him from pulling away. Not about the way Dean’s lips opened for Sam’s tongue. Not about the way Sam whimpered Dean’s name as he came, spilling hot and sticky over Dean’s hand.
They didn’t touch. They walked at arm’s length from one another, from the trees to the room. They took turns cleaning up and when Sam emerged from the bathroom, Dean was pretending to sleep on the bed.
Sam went to the window, staring out on the quiet campus. Everything was different now. His fingers played with the cassette tape. Spy gadgets and tape recorders. Not their usual equipment, but Dean had come through.
For the first time since the whole thing started Sam thought maybe they had a chance. He’d played the whore the first time to save his brother. Maybe this time he could save himself.
A shadow moved three floors down, emerging from behind a tree. Sam stared, hatred boiling in his blood. Mosley Aims looked up at him, right at him and smiled.
Sam reached for the gun under his pillow, but Mosley was gone by the time he’d lifted it. He was shaking as he turned for the door. He opened it, but stopped dead. Sitting on the floor outside the door was a package.
It was labeled, “Sweetcheeks” in Mosley’s handwriting.
Sam glanced up and down the hall, then bent down to pick it up. There was a DVD sitting on top of a pile of clothes. Sam didn’t need to look to recognize them. The white lace panties on the top were stiff and crusty with old dried come.
He crossed to his desk and his laptop, double checking to make sure his earphones were plugged in. A quick glance at Dean told him he was asleep, not pretending anymore.
Sam put the disc in. He expected Mosley but still jumped when his scarred face filled the screen.
“Hey there, Sweetcheeks. Did you miss me?” The picture zoomed back. “A man like me might be offended the way you skipped town on your debt. But I’m willing to offer you an opportunity to make this right.” The screen shifted and filled with darkness. A bright light came on and Sam could see Dean, cuffed to a chair, bleeding from the mouth.
His stomach twisted when he saw the blowtorch, and he watched Dean’s face contort as he fought the panic and then Dean was screaming in agony as the flames burned through his shirt.
The picture switched back to Mosley. “Your brother never learned to pay his debts. You should both take a lesson from your old man.”
His father’s face filled the screen. The camera pulled back and Sam could see that he was in a police car. “They say confession is good for the soul Sweetcheeks.”
Mosley’s smile was sickening. “Dress up for me. Meet me at the address on the card inside the package. Saturday night, ten pm. Come alone, or I’ll take your brother apart. He still owes me.” Mosley dragged a finger over the scars then puckered up, kissing the air.
Sam pulled the DVD out, shoved it in the bag and shoved the whole mess under his bed before he crawled into it and laid there, staring at his brother until he finally dozed off.
It wasn’t easy to ditch his brother to meet Mosley. Sam finally told him he had to work on a paper and headed to the library. Of course, the library was empty. The whole campus was dark and quiet for the holiday weekend.
Dean had waited around for a while, but when Sam exploded over his constant interruptions, he’d left for a local bar.
When Sam was sure he was gone, he packed up his things and headed to the address on Mosley’s note.
It wasn’t far from campus, a high-class hotel. He spotted one of Mosley’s boys in the lobby and crossed to him. He didn’t have to say a word. The man pushed Sam up against the wall and patted him down, taking the knife from his ankle sheath and the gun from his jacket pocket.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” The man just shoved Sam into the elevator, then up to the door of a suite. The door was flanked by two more of Mosley’s guys. Obviously killing Mosley wouldn’t be any easier now than it had been then.
Mosley was flanked on either side by two beautiful women in next to nothing, but he shoved them away when Sam came into the room. He swept his eyes over
Sam’s clothes, jeans and a hoodie over a button down over a t-shirt. He didn’t look happy.
“I told you to dress for me, you whore.”
Sam nodded slowly. “Yes, you did. But I don’t work for you Mosley. I’m not your whore.”
Mosley lurched up off the couch. Sam held his ground as Mosley moved toward him. “You saying you won’t pay your debt?”
“I don’t owe you anything. We didn’t negotiate, I told you I didn’t want your money. You paid the bills anyway.”
“You owe me $13, 298.” Mosley’s fist wrapped in Sam’s shirt. “And you can be damn sure I’m going to collect. I’m gonna fuck that sweet ass until you can’t sit right, and then I’m gonna pimp it out until every cock in fifty miles has been inside it.”
Sam struggled, pulled away and almost got clear, but one of the other men caught him. The fight was mostly for show. He’d known coming here that Mosley would force him to it if he didn’t perform willingly. It was part of his plan. He could handle this.
Two of Mosley’s men manhandled him over the back of a chair, yanking his jeans down. He’d prepped enough that it shouldn’t hurt too much. Still, he gasped when Mosley entered him, struggling against the hands holding him down. Mosley’s hands were bruising on his hips and he thrust in hard and fast.
When he came, he pulled out, spewing his come over Sam’s ass before the men forced Sam to his knees. Mosley’s hand fisted in his hair and pulled his head back. “Do I make myself clear?”
Sam nodded, panting.
“Good. This ain’t special like before, Sweetcheeks. Your ass is mine. You’re my whore. You’ll do as I say. You’ll take the cock I give you and you’ll do it without a fight, or I swear, my boys will have some fun with your face.”
“Like Dean had with yours?” Sam asked before he could stop himself.
Mosley’s fist slammed into his face and Sam fell to the floor. “Get the fuck out. I’ll call you when I want you.”
Sam pulled his jeans up over his come coated ass and headed for the door. He swept his eyes around the room once more, committing the layout and hiding spaces to memory. He’d be back here and when he was, Mosley was going to wish he’d never started this game.
“So, we doing this thing today?” Dean asked as he dragged his toast through egg yolks on his plate.
Sam nodded tightly. “Yeah, I called the Dean. I see him at two.”
Dean nodded. “You think you’ll get to stay?”
Sam didn’t want to think about it. It made his stomach churn. If he lost the scholarship, he’d lose Stanford. If he lost Stanford there was nothing left to go back to.
“Dean?” Sam didn’t look up. “What happened? Dad, I mean. What happened to Dad?”
Dean froze for a moment, then sighed. “Who knows, right? You know him. He probably bailed out of town as soon as you were gone. Off hunting his demons or whatever.”
“Don’t lie to me Dean.” Sam said softly. “Please…I can do this, do anything…just don’t lie to me.”
Dean’s eyes closed and he put his fork down. “He doesn’t want you to know.”
“I don’t care what he wants.” Sam controlled the anger, but only barely.
“He…saved my life, Sammy.” He held up the scarred up hand. “This would have been just the beginning. Dad…he got me out.”
“There’s more.”
Dean nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. The police were closing in. They had enough to at least haul me in. I was careful, but obviously not careful enough. Those boys that hurt you…I nearly killed that Rick guy. The others…well some of them walked funny for a while. Then there was Mosley. The bomb.” Dean shook his head. “I should have run, but I was determined to get Mosley.”
“But Mosley got you.” Sam’s hand snaked over the table and grabbed Dean’s wrist.
Dean pulled the hand away, hiding it under the table. His face scrunched up and he turned to look out the window. “Mosley was going to kill me. Somehow Dad…he didn’t tell me.”
“Dean? What did he do?”
“Dumped me with Bobby. I was pretty out of it. Bobby took me to a hospital. Dad…he…” Dean looked up at him, pain evident in his eyes. “He went to the cops. Confessed to killing Mosley’s guys. Beating up those assholes. He…”
“He went to jail for you?” Sam asked when Dean didn’t seem to be able to say the words.
Dean nodded slowly. “I was in the hospital…didn’t know…not until I got out. Bobby’s got a lawyer, but Dad…he…he wouldn’t see me, and he’s just…told Bobby he had to make it right.”
Sam sighed explosively. “Right? Because him leaving us is how we got into this, so leaving us again is going to get us out of it?” He pulled a hand through his hair. “That man is such an ass.”
Dean didn’t respond, just went back to eating his breakfast. Sam sat back. Out in the parking lot a dark car was sitting. The window came down and Mosley winked at him. Just as Dean looked up, the car pulled away.
“What happened to Mosley?” Sam asked, picking up his coffee cup.
“What?”
“If you didn’t kill him and Dad didn’t kill him….what happened to him?”
“Bobby said he slipped a sting the cops set for him, skipped town.”
“But you think he’s coming for me?”
Dean pressed his lips together. “He knows where you are, if that’s what you’re asking. He went through my stuff. I had your address in my wallet.”
Sam nodded. “Let him come.”
Dean looked at him funny.
“I’m done being afraid of him Dean.” He drank the last of his coffee. “I’ve got a class. I’ll see you after.”
Dean watched Sam walk into the administration building. He wanted to be there with him, but Sam had convinced him that it wouldn’t be helpful, especially not with Dean’s face in the video Mosley had sent Elton.
So he waited. He sat on a bench and watched the building. This idea of Sam’s didn’t sit well, letting the man fuck him just to get him fired. It was worse than Mosley somehow.
His eyes scanned the area. He was nervous. Sam’s questions about their father and Mosley had left him feeling uneasy. Like there was something Sam wasn’t telling him.
Of course, it was probably just the whole thing with Sam…the uneasy awkward of having jacked Sam off…and the whole kissing thing. It wasn’t like he’d planned it. It just sort of seemed right at the time.
Which Dean realized just showed how fucked up he’d gotten over the whole thing. But Sam….he’d looked so lost, so needy and Dean never could let Sam need anything for long. So Dean had kissed him and now he knew how Sam tasted, knew the way his brother’s body moved, the feeling of his mouth opening, the sounds he made as he came.
And Dean wanted more.
God help him, Dean wanted more.
It was dirty and wrong and yet…something inside him broke open when he watched Sam bend over for Mosley…when Sam did it for him. And Dean wanted to feel that…the hot inside of Sam, the submission, the sticky sweat.
To make matters worse, it had been obvious that Sam wanted it on some level too. He’d been hard that day Dean crowded him into the wall. He hadn’t tried to push him away either time when Dean had jacked him off. He’d moaned Dean’s name as he came.
Dean shook his head to clear it. Obviously he was fucked in the head. Sam needed his big brother to protect him, not pervert him anymore than he already had.
No. Dean planted his feet on the ground and stood.
They would get through this. They’d deal with Elton and Mosley. They’d get clear. And when they did, they’d start over. If Sam got to stay in school, Dean would stay too. He’d get a job, do what he should have done from the start. Take care of Sam.
“Professor Elton has been teaching here for over ten years, Sam. Accusations like this are difficult to believe.”
Sam took a deep breath and nodded. “Dean Withers, I don’t make accusations lightly.” He knew this was going to be a battle. He calmed his heart and looked his dean in the eye. “Professor Elton came across a video of me, and he’s using to blackmail me into having sex with him.”
The Dean raised an eyebrow. “A video?”
Sam licked his lips. This was it. “Before I came to Stanford, I…lived a hard life. I did what I had to in order to survive. There was a man who I owed money, but I had no money to give him, so he took what I owed in trade.”
The other eyebrow went up. “Trade?”
“Yes, trade. He used me.” It was obvious he wasn’t going to get away with hiding behind words. “He fucked me, okay? I was his whore. And he apparently video taped it. I didn’t know.” Sam shook his head. “Somehow Professor Elton got this video. He promised not to turn me in for criminal activity if I would let him do the same, once a week.” Slowly Sam lifted the tape player and put it on the desk.
“What’s this?”
“Proof.” Sam reached up and pushed the play button.
“We all have choices, Sam.”
“Okay, what are mine?”
“I’m a simple man, with simple tastes.”
“I need something more specific. We are negotiating, aren’t we? The product is my future. What is the currency?”
“You, here in this office, once a week “
“Are we talking just blow jobs or actual fucking?”
“Both, as the mood strikes.”
Sam turned it off and looked up at the Dean. There was disbelief still there on his face, but Elton’s voice left little doubt.
“This was Wednesday night. He followed that by bending me over his desk and fucking my ass.” Sam licked his lips. “Sorry to put it so crudely, but that’s what it was. It’s on the tape too, if you need to hear it.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Dean Withers looked like he might be sick. “You do know that this will bring your scholarship into question.”
Sam nodded. “I’m hoping that my coming forward and admitting my past will help the Board see that I’m working to put it behind me. I’m serious about my education.”
“I can’t make promises, other than to say that I’ll investigate this. May I?” He reached for the tape player and Sam nodded.
“Go ahead, it’s a copy. I have the original.”
Dean looked up as Sam emerged, squinting up into the bright sunlight. “Well?”
He couldn’t read Sam’s face. “I guess I’ll know soon enough.” Sam set out at a brisk pace.
“So what now?” Dean was anxious, itchy. Something was definitely not right. “Sam?”
He grabbed Sam’s arm to stop him. “Would you slow down?”
Sam’s face was pissy. “I can’t. I have things to do.”
“What? More of that paper that you keep talking about, for a class you might get kicked out of?” He regretted it the minute he said it, but he ducked the swing Sam took at him.
“Fuck you.”
“People might stare.” Dean shook his head. “Just…tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing, Dean. Nothing’s going on.”
“No?”
“No.” Sam set out again, stalking toward his dorm. Dean followed. He was getting angry, but he wasn’t sure why. Not until Sam threw his bag onto his bed and started ripping off his shirts.
“What are you doing?”
Sam didn’t look at him, even turned his back to him as he peeled off the t-shirt. The scars on his back had faded and Dean almost couldn’t read the word they spelled out. He started to look away, then his eyes caught on something.
“I’m going to take a shower. I’ve got to meet some people later.” Sam said, but Dean wasn’t listening. He was staring at the thumbprint bruise on Sam’s hip.
“Sam?” Dean put his hand out, connected with the bruise, covered it with his thumb, his hand closing over Sam’s hip, over bruises exactly spaced like fingers.
“Dean, what the fuck?” Sam pulled away, his hand covering the spot where Dean’s hand had just been.
“That’s what I was about to say.” Dean shook his head, trying to make it make sense. There was only one reason to have a bruise like that there. “Tell me you aren’t…tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”
Sam’s eyes closed. “Just…stay out of it, Dean.”
“No. No. You tell me…” Dean ran his hand over his face. “Who?”
“No one.”
Fire and ice raced through his veins until Dean’s body erupted in fury, grabbing Sam and pinning him to the wall. “Who?!” Dean screamed in Sam’s face and for a moment neither of them moved.
“Mosley.” Sam said finally, sagging in Dean’s arms. “He…I’ve got it under control.”
“Don’t lie to me, Sam.” Dean said softly, letting go of his brother. “There’s no controlling Mosley.”
Sam reached for Dean, pulled him close. “I’m going to end it Dean. The way I should have.”
Dean shook his head. “It was me, Sam. Me. I should have fixed it, should never have let you…Dad was right.”
Sam pulled him still closer. “No, Dean. Dad wasn’t right.” Sam’s lips were on his ear, then sliding over his jaw and chin. “It was always us Dean. You and me.” His kiss was salty and Dean didn’t know when Sam had started crying. “You and me.”
Sam’s tongue was in his mouth, begging Dean to understand. His hands were pushing at Dean’s jacket and shirts and it took Dean a few seconds to understand why.
“Sam…Sam…” He wanted to say that they couldn’t…that they shouldn’t…but the need in Sam’s hands was so intense Dean couldn’t think beyond sating that need. Sam’s bare skin was under his hands, and they stumbled and tumbled to the bed.
Sam’s cock was hard and in Dean’s hands but Sam was shaking his head, pulling away. “Want…” Sam pulled at Dean’s jeans, unzipping and pulling and falling to the bed, rolling Dean under him. “Please…please…”
His fingers were insistent and Dean fell beneath him, legs open obscene. He couldn’t deny Sam this…he could only fumble at the nightstand for the lube he’d known Sam had and smear it over Sam’s cock before pulling Sam to him. “Come on Sammy…”
Sam’s eyes were wide as he sank into Dean, his movement jerky and unsure. It hadn’t occurred to Dean that he’d never…and now Dean had taken the last pure thing his brother had. But that thought faded as Sam found his stride and fucked up into Dean.
Dean’s own cock was hard and curved, rubbing pre-come into the skin of his stomach with every thrust. His hands settled on Sam’s hips, covering the bruises Mosley had left, surrendering himself to the heat and rush. His hips lifted off the bed to meet Sam’s movement.
Sam was grunting, groaning half words and he was still crying, tears falling onto Dean’s skin as Sam leaned in to kiss him. “Dean…I’m so sorry Dean…so sorry…”
“I’m not.” Dean whispered back.
Sam stiffened and came, hot, sticky filling Dean. Sam’s body crushed down on him, rubbing just enough against Dean’s cock to make him come too. “I’m not sorry, Sammy.” Dean whispered, holding Sam to him. “Never sorry to give you anything. Anything you need.”
He kissed over Sam’s face, licking up the tears as he rolled them side by side. Sam’s face nuzzled into Dean’s shoulder and he sighed. Dean kissed over his eyes, rubbing his back, encouraging him to sleep.
Dean’s hand caressed over the offending bruises. He was going to kill Mosley. But not before he cut off every single finger he’d ever laid on Sam. Not before he’d removed his manhood, sliced it open and covered it in Tabasco and made the man swallow it.
Title: Don't Lie to Me
Pairing/Characters: Sam/OMC, Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3500
Summary: This is the sequel to Don't Go Out Tonight, Don't Say No, and Don't Say You're Sorry, Don't Leave Me, Don't Ask Me to Stay and Don't Close Your Eyes. Sam has a plan, but when Mosley arrives on the scene, can he hold it together long enough to make it happen?
A/Ns & Warnings: This is Hooker!fic. Dean was hooking to make money for him and Sam to live on, and after Mosley, Sam finds it easier to do the same than he ever thought possible. This is very dark and angsty. Apparently this has also sort of spawned a verse...because every time I think I reached the end, I realize there's more story to tell.
They didn’t talk. Not about the way Dean’s hand wrapped around Sam’s cock and stroked him. Not about the way Sam kissed Dean all frantic and desperate and held him to keep him from pulling away. Not about the way Dean’s lips opened for Sam’s tongue. Not about the way Sam whimpered Dean’s name as he came, spilling hot and sticky over Dean’s hand.
They didn’t touch. They walked at arm’s length from one another, from the trees to the room. They took turns cleaning up and when Sam emerged from the bathroom, Dean was pretending to sleep on the bed.
Sam went to the window, staring out on the quiet campus. Everything was different now. His fingers played with the cassette tape. Spy gadgets and tape recorders. Not their usual equipment, but Dean had come through.
For the first time since the whole thing started Sam thought maybe they had a chance. He’d played the whore the first time to save his brother. Maybe this time he could save himself.
A shadow moved three floors down, emerging from behind a tree. Sam stared, hatred boiling in his blood. Mosley Aims looked up at him, right at him and smiled.
Sam reached for the gun under his pillow, but Mosley was gone by the time he’d lifted it. He was shaking as he turned for the door. He opened it, but stopped dead. Sitting on the floor outside the door was a package.
It was labeled, “Sweetcheeks” in Mosley’s handwriting.
Sam glanced up and down the hall, then bent down to pick it up. There was a DVD sitting on top of a pile of clothes. Sam didn’t need to look to recognize them. The white lace panties on the top were stiff and crusty with old dried come.
He crossed to his desk and his laptop, double checking to make sure his earphones were plugged in. A quick glance at Dean told him he was asleep, not pretending anymore.
Sam put the disc in. He expected Mosley but still jumped when his scarred face filled the screen.
“Hey there, Sweetcheeks. Did you miss me?” The picture zoomed back. “A man like me might be offended the way you skipped town on your debt. But I’m willing to offer you an opportunity to make this right.” The screen shifted and filled with darkness. A bright light came on and Sam could see Dean, cuffed to a chair, bleeding from the mouth.
His stomach twisted when he saw the blowtorch, and he watched Dean’s face contort as he fought the panic and then Dean was screaming in agony as the flames burned through his shirt.
The picture switched back to Mosley. “Your brother never learned to pay his debts. You should both take a lesson from your old man.”
His father’s face filled the screen. The camera pulled back and Sam could see that he was in a police car. “They say confession is good for the soul Sweetcheeks.”
Mosley’s smile was sickening. “Dress up for me. Meet me at the address on the card inside the package. Saturday night, ten pm. Come alone, or I’ll take your brother apart. He still owes me.” Mosley dragged a finger over the scars then puckered up, kissing the air.
Sam pulled the DVD out, shoved it in the bag and shoved the whole mess under his bed before he crawled into it and laid there, staring at his brother until he finally dozed off.
It wasn’t easy to ditch his brother to meet Mosley. Sam finally told him he had to work on a paper and headed to the library. Of course, the library was empty. The whole campus was dark and quiet for the holiday weekend.
Dean had waited around for a while, but when Sam exploded over his constant interruptions, he’d left for a local bar.
When Sam was sure he was gone, he packed up his things and headed to the address on Mosley’s note.
It wasn’t far from campus, a high-class hotel. He spotted one of Mosley’s boys in the lobby and crossed to him. He didn’t have to say a word. The man pushed Sam up against the wall and patted him down, taking the knife from his ankle sheath and the gun from his jacket pocket.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” The man just shoved Sam into the elevator, then up to the door of a suite. The door was flanked by two more of Mosley’s guys. Obviously killing Mosley wouldn’t be any easier now than it had been then.
Mosley was flanked on either side by two beautiful women in next to nothing, but he shoved them away when Sam came into the room. He swept his eyes over
Sam’s clothes, jeans and a hoodie over a button down over a t-shirt. He didn’t look happy.
“I told you to dress for me, you whore.”
Sam nodded slowly. “Yes, you did. But I don’t work for you Mosley. I’m not your whore.”
Mosley lurched up off the couch. Sam held his ground as Mosley moved toward him. “You saying you won’t pay your debt?”
“I don’t owe you anything. We didn’t negotiate, I told you I didn’t want your money. You paid the bills anyway.”
“You owe me $13, 298.” Mosley’s fist wrapped in Sam’s shirt. “And you can be damn sure I’m going to collect. I’m gonna fuck that sweet ass until you can’t sit right, and then I’m gonna pimp it out until every cock in fifty miles has been inside it.”
Sam struggled, pulled away and almost got clear, but one of the other men caught him. The fight was mostly for show. He’d known coming here that Mosley would force him to it if he didn’t perform willingly. It was part of his plan. He could handle this.
Two of Mosley’s men manhandled him over the back of a chair, yanking his jeans down. He’d prepped enough that it shouldn’t hurt too much. Still, he gasped when Mosley entered him, struggling against the hands holding him down. Mosley’s hands were bruising on his hips and he thrust in hard and fast.
When he came, he pulled out, spewing his come over Sam’s ass before the men forced Sam to his knees. Mosley’s hand fisted in his hair and pulled his head back. “Do I make myself clear?”
Sam nodded, panting.
“Good. This ain’t special like before, Sweetcheeks. Your ass is mine. You’re my whore. You’ll do as I say. You’ll take the cock I give you and you’ll do it without a fight, or I swear, my boys will have some fun with your face.”
“Like Dean had with yours?” Sam asked before he could stop himself.
Mosley’s fist slammed into his face and Sam fell to the floor. “Get the fuck out. I’ll call you when I want you.”
Sam pulled his jeans up over his come coated ass and headed for the door. He swept his eyes around the room once more, committing the layout and hiding spaces to memory. He’d be back here and when he was, Mosley was going to wish he’d never started this game.
“So, we doing this thing today?” Dean asked as he dragged his toast through egg yolks on his plate.
Sam nodded tightly. “Yeah, I called the Dean. I see him at two.”
Dean nodded. “You think you’ll get to stay?”
Sam didn’t want to think about it. It made his stomach churn. If he lost the scholarship, he’d lose Stanford. If he lost Stanford there was nothing left to go back to.
“Dean?” Sam didn’t look up. “What happened? Dad, I mean. What happened to Dad?”
Dean froze for a moment, then sighed. “Who knows, right? You know him. He probably bailed out of town as soon as you were gone. Off hunting his demons or whatever.”
“Don’t lie to me Dean.” Sam said softly. “Please…I can do this, do anything…just don’t lie to me.”
Dean’s eyes closed and he put his fork down. “He doesn’t want you to know.”
“I don’t care what he wants.” Sam controlled the anger, but only barely.
“He…saved my life, Sammy.” He held up the scarred up hand. “This would have been just the beginning. Dad…he got me out.”
“There’s more.”
Dean nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. The police were closing in. They had enough to at least haul me in. I was careful, but obviously not careful enough. Those boys that hurt you…I nearly killed that Rick guy. The others…well some of them walked funny for a while. Then there was Mosley. The bomb.” Dean shook his head. “I should have run, but I was determined to get Mosley.”
“But Mosley got you.” Sam’s hand snaked over the table and grabbed Dean’s wrist.
Dean pulled the hand away, hiding it under the table. His face scrunched up and he turned to look out the window. “Mosley was going to kill me. Somehow Dad…he didn’t tell me.”
“Dean? What did he do?”
“Dumped me with Bobby. I was pretty out of it. Bobby took me to a hospital. Dad…he…” Dean looked up at him, pain evident in his eyes. “He went to the cops. Confessed to killing Mosley’s guys. Beating up those assholes. He…”
“He went to jail for you?” Sam asked when Dean didn’t seem to be able to say the words.
Dean nodded slowly. “I was in the hospital…didn’t know…not until I got out. Bobby’s got a lawyer, but Dad…he…he wouldn’t see me, and he’s just…told Bobby he had to make it right.”
Sam sighed explosively. “Right? Because him leaving us is how we got into this, so leaving us again is going to get us out of it?” He pulled a hand through his hair. “That man is such an ass.”
Dean didn’t respond, just went back to eating his breakfast. Sam sat back. Out in the parking lot a dark car was sitting. The window came down and Mosley winked at him. Just as Dean looked up, the car pulled away.
“What happened to Mosley?” Sam asked, picking up his coffee cup.
“What?”
“If you didn’t kill him and Dad didn’t kill him….what happened to him?”
“Bobby said he slipped a sting the cops set for him, skipped town.”
“But you think he’s coming for me?”
Dean pressed his lips together. “He knows where you are, if that’s what you’re asking. He went through my stuff. I had your address in my wallet.”
Sam nodded. “Let him come.”
Dean looked at him funny.
“I’m done being afraid of him Dean.” He drank the last of his coffee. “I’ve got a class. I’ll see you after.”
Dean watched Sam walk into the administration building. He wanted to be there with him, but Sam had convinced him that it wouldn’t be helpful, especially not with Dean’s face in the video Mosley had sent Elton.
So he waited. He sat on a bench and watched the building. This idea of Sam’s didn’t sit well, letting the man fuck him just to get him fired. It was worse than Mosley somehow.
His eyes scanned the area. He was nervous. Sam’s questions about their father and Mosley had left him feeling uneasy. Like there was something Sam wasn’t telling him.
Of course, it was probably just the whole thing with Sam…the uneasy awkward of having jacked Sam off…and the whole kissing thing. It wasn’t like he’d planned it. It just sort of seemed right at the time.
Which Dean realized just showed how fucked up he’d gotten over the whole thing. But Sam….he’d looked so lost, so needy and Dean never could let Sam need anything for long. So Dean had kissed him and now he knew how Sam tasted, knew the way his brother’s body moved, the feeling of his mouth opening, the sounds he made as he came.
And Dean wanted more.
God help him, Dean wanted more.
It was dirty and wrong and yet…something inside him broke open when he watched Sam bend over for Mosley…when Sam did it for him. And Dean wanted to feel that…the hot inside of Sam, the submission, the sticky sweat.
To make matters worse, it had been obvious that Sam wanted it on some level too. He’d been hard that day Dean crowded him into the wall. He hadn’t tried to push him away either time when Dean had jacked him off. He’d moaned Dean’s name as he came.
Dean shook his head to clear it. Obviously he was fucked in the head. Sam needed his big brother to protect him, not pervert him anymore than he already had.
No. Dean planted his feet on the ground and stood.
They would get through this. They’d deal with Elton and Mosley. They’d get clear. And when they did, they’d start over. If Sam got to stay in school, Dean would stay too. He’d get a job, do what he should have done from the start. Take care of Sam.
“Professor Elton has been teaching here for over ten years, Sam. Accusations like this are difficult to believe.”
Sam took a deep breath and nodded. “Dean Withers, I don’t make accusations lightly.” He knew this was going to be a battle. He calmed his heart and looked his dean in the eye. “Professor Elton came across a video of me, and he’s using to blackmail me into having sex with him.”
The Dean raised an eyebrow. “A video?”
Sam licked his lips. This was it. “Before I came to Stanford, I…lived a hard life. I did what I had to in order to survive. There was a man who I owed money, but I had no money to give him, so he took what I owed in trade.”
The other eyebrow went up. “Trade?”
“Yes, trade. He used me.” It was obvious he wasn’t going to get away with hiding behind words. “He fucked me, okay? I was his whore. And he apparently video taped it. I didn’t know.” Sam shook his head. “Somehow Professor Elton got this video. He promised not to turn me in for criminal activity if I would let him do the same, once a week.” Slowly Sam lifted the tape player and put it on the desk.
“What’s this?”
“Proof.” Sam reached up and pushed the play button.
“We all have choices, Sam.”
“Okay, what are mine?”
“I’m a simple man, with simple tastes.”
“I need something more specific. We are negotiating, aren’t we? The product is my future. What is the currency?”
“You, here in this office, once a week “
“Are we talking just blow jobs or actual fucking?”
“Both, as the mood strikes.”
Sam turned it off and looked up at the Dean. There was disbelief still there on his face, but Elton’s voice left little doubt.
“This was Wednesday night. He followed that by bending me over his desk and fucking my ass.” Sam licked his lips. “Sorry to put it so crudely, but that’s what it was. It’s on the tape too, if you need to hear it.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Dean Withers looked like he might be sick. “You do know that this will bring your scholarship into question.”
Sam nodded. “I’m hoping that my coming forward and admitting my past will help the Board see that I’m working to put it behind me. I’m serious about my education.”
“I can’t make promises, other than to say that I’ll investigate this. May I?” He reached for the tape player and Sam nodded.
“Go ahead, it’s a copy. I have the original.”
Dean looked up as Sam emerged, squinting up into the bright sunlight. “Well?”
He couldn’t read Sam’s face. “I guess I’ll know soon enough.” Sam set out at a brisk pace.
“So what now?” Dean was anxious, itchy. Something was definitely not right. “Sam?”
He grabbed Sam’s arm to stop him. “Would you slow down?”
Sam’s face was pissy. “I can’t. I have things to do.”
“What? More of that paper that you keep talking about, for a class you might get kicked out of?” He regretted it the minute he said it, but he ducked the swing Sam took at him.
“Fuck you.”
“People might stare.” Dean shook his head. “Just…tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing, Dean. Nothing’s going on.”
“No?”
“No.” Sam set out again, stalking toward his dorm. Dean followed. He was getting angry, but he wasn’t sure why. Not until Sam threw his bag onto his bed and started ripping off his shirts.
“What are you doing?”
Sam didn’t look at him, even turned his back to him as he peeled off the t-shirt. The scars on his back had faded and Dean almost couldn’t read the word they spelled out. He started to look away, then his eyes caught on something.
“I’m going to take a shower. I’ve got to meet some people later.” Sam said, but Dean wasn’t listening. He was staring at the thumbprint bruise on Sam’s hip.
“Sam?” Dean put his hand out, connected with the bruise, covered it with his thumb, his hand closing over Sam’s hip, over bruises exactly spaced like fingers.
“Dean, what the fuck?” Sam pulled away, his hand covering the spot where Dean’s hand had just been.
“That’s what I was about to say.” Dean shook his head, trying to make it make sense. There was only one reason to have a bruise like that there. “Tell me you aren’t…tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”
Sam’s eyes closed. “Just…stay out of it, Dean.”
“No. No. You tell me…” Dean ran his hand over his face. “Who?”
“No one.”
Fire and ice raced through his veins until Dean’s body erupted in fury, grabbing Sam and pinning him to the wall. “Who?!” Dean screamed in Sam’s face and for a moment neither of them moved.
“Mosley.” Sam said finally, sagging in Dean’s arms. “He…I’ve got it under control.”
“Don’t lie to me, Sam.” Dean said softly, letting go of his brother. “There’s no controlling Mosley.”
Sam reached for Dean, pulled him close. “I’m going to end it Dean. The way I should have.”
Dean shook his head. “It was me, Sam. Me. I should have fixed it, should never have let you…Dad was right.”
Sam pulled him still closer. “No, Dean. Dad wasn’t right.” Sam’s lips were on his ear, then sliding over his jaw and chin. “It was always us Dean. You and me.” His kiss was salty and Dean didn’t know when Sam had started crying. “You and me.”
Sam’s tongue was in his mouth, begging Dean to understand. His hands were pushing at Dean’s jacket and shirts and it took Dean a few seconds to understand why.
“Sam…Sam…” He wanted to say that they couldn’t…that they shouldn’t…but the need in Sam’s hands was so intense Dean couldn’t think beyond sating that need. Sam’s bare skin was under his hands, and they stumbled and tumbled to the bed.
Sam’s cock was hard and in Dean’s hands but Sam was shaking his head, pulling away. “Want…” Sam pulled at Dean’s jeans, unzipping and pulling and falling to the bed, rolling Dean under him. “Please…please…”
His fingers were insistent and Dean fell beneath him, legs open obscene. He couldn’t deny Sam this…he could only fumble at the nightstand for the lube he’d known Sam had and smear it over Sam’s cock before pulling Sam to him. “Come on Sammy…”
Sam’s eyes were wide as he sank into Dean, his movement jerky and unsure. It hadn’t occurred to Dean that he’d never…and now Dean had taken the last pure thing his brother had. But that thought faded as Sam found his stride and fucked up into Dean.
Dean’s own cock was hard and curved, rubbing pre-come into the skin of his stomach with every thrust. His hands settled on Sam’s hips, covering the bruises Mosley had left, surrendering himself to the heat and rush. His hips lifted off the bed to meet Sam’s movement.
Sam was grunting, groaning half words and he was still crying, tears falling onto Dean’s skin as Sam leaned in to kiss him. “Dean…I’m so sorry Dean…so sorry…”
“I’m not.” Dean whispered back.
Sam stiffened and came, hot, sticky filling Dean. Sam’s body crushed down on him, rubbing just enough against Dean’s cock to make him come too. “I’m not sorry, Sammy.” Dean whispered, holding Sam to him. “Never sorry to give you anything. Anything you need.”
He kissed over Sam’s face, licking up the tears as he rolled them side by side. Sam’s face nuzzled into Dean’s shoulder and he sighed. Dean kissed over his eyes, rubbing his back, encouraging him to sleep.
Dean’s hand caressed over the offending bruises. He was going to kill Mosley. But not before he cut off every single finger he’d ever laid on Sam. Not before he’d removed his manhood, sliced it open and covered it in Tabasco and made the man swallow it.