Supernatural: Gonna Take You to the Glory
Title: Gonna Take You to the Glory
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 for underage (Sam is 14/15), explicit sexual content including barebacking
Word Count: 8,016
Author’s Note: Third fill for spn_masquerade written for the prompt: When Dean finds out from some high school seniors that there's a girl who sucks dicks for hours through a gloryhole every Thursday night in an abandoned house, he can't wait for the next Thursday to go to the address they gave him and get his dick sucked, too.
When it happens again a few months later in a different town, he can't believe his luck. Seriously, that kind of shit only happens in porn. Dean's in heaven.
The third time, he starts to think that it's a bit suspicious. Is it really that common, or is someone following them? It doesn't really matter though, because hey, blowjobs, man.
The fourth time, though, Dean finally puts two and two together. It doesn't stop him from getting his dick sucked..
Summary: When Dean finds out from some high school seniors that there's a girl who sucks dicks for hours through a gloryhole every Thursday night in an abandoned house, he can't wait for the next Thursday to go to the address they gave him and get his dick sucked, too.
When it happens again a few months later in a different town, he can't believe his luck. The third time, he starts to think that it's a bit suspicious. The fourth time, though, Dean finally puts two and two together.
“It’s a shithole,” Sam says into the speaker. “But it’s not haunted.”
“Language, Sammy,” Dean mutters, but he knows it’s useless. Dad’s on his way to a real hunt, his mind focused on the details he knows so far and where he’ll start once he gets there. He’s not going to care if his youngest has decided to have a dirty mouth of late.
Sam hangs up and tosses the cell back to Dean. “He wants us to be sure. ‘Secure the parameter,’” Sam adds, with air quotes and a hearty eye roll. “As if we don’t know how to tell if a house is haunted without sweeping every inch. I swear, he doesn’t think we can do anything right.”
“Watch that attitude,” Dean replies. Sam is already halfway up the stairs, nothing but a wave of his hand behind his back to show Dean he even heard. Dean pointedly looks away from his brother’s ass as it ascends the stairs, and he briefly wonders just when the hell it became a chore not to stare at his kid brother like a piece of meat.
Maybe around the time Sam stopped following him around, stopped looking up to him and craving his attention, started answering with hand gestures and annoyed glares instead. Maybe Dean just needs to meet a certain Sam quota or it all goes ugly.
“You gonna help me?” Dean snaps back to attention, looking up to see his brother’s head poking out from the top of the staircase. “I mean, it is Dad’s orders.”
He nods, following his brother up to the second floor. By the time he’s on the landing, Sam is gone, vanished into one of the many rooms. Dean can hear the distant buzz of Sam’s EMF meter picking up absolutely nothing.
They hadn’t much been expecting this to be a real hunt, but Dean is still a little disappointed. Not like it’s all that common to stumble on a hunt in a town you’re already in to check out something else, but all the kids at school had gone on about this place, how creepy it was, how you could always feel someone watching you.
Dean had brought it up to Dad over breakfast as Dad was preparing for his hunt, and John had been pleased at his initiative, had given him the go-ahead to check it out with Sam in tow. Dean had been a little excited, too, at the prospect of a good old fashioned haunted house, a hunt for just him and Sammy to share, but of course, Sam had groused, whined about how he wanted to be in bed early so he could rest up for his algebra test.
Now they’re here and Dean looks around the broken windows and the torn curtains, peeling wallpaper, graffiti from all the local kids who come here for fun. It’s the perfect Hollywoodesque setting for a horror movie. He doesn’t need the EMF meter to tell him the only thing unusual about it is that no one has bought the lot and knocked it down yet. Sam was right about this being a waste of time.
Sam reappears in the hallway and shoves past Dean to get back to the stairs. It’s dark, and Sam’s obviously trying to get ahead of him, but Dean could swear there’s a pink tint to his cheeks. “I checked all the rooms. It’s clear.”
“You sure you didn’t find anything spooky?” Dean asks, drawing the last word out and looming over Sam as best as he can now that the kid is nearly his size.
Sam shoves him away and laughs (which Dean counts as a victory against teenage angst) and when his flashlight moves over Sam’s face, it is definitely redder.
“I found,” Sam says. He stops, swallows hard, and then keeps right on walking to the stairs. “Nothing, Dean, except how annoying you are.”
_______________________________________________________________
“Dude, I’m telling you, it happened,” Rob is saying, leaning back against the wall behind the gym with the most self-satisfied grin Dean has ever seen in his life. “I’m not making this up.”
“Your ugly ass would have to get your dick sucked through a wall,” Jack replies, laughing at his own insult as he hefts his considerable weight from one side to the next. He passes Dean the blunt they’re sharing. “Right, Dean? Look at this guy. Face only his mother could love.”
Dean huffs a laugh as he inhales the last of the weed, dropping the butt to the ground and watching the fire and ashes as they get trampled under Jack’s worn pair of forest green All Stars. “Come on, Rob. That shit only happens in movies.”
“I am dead serious,” Rob insists again, pushing his muddy blonde hair away from his face and tucking it back into his baseball cap.
“How would you even find that out?” Jack asks. “Do you just go around sticking your dick into random holes in walls hoping there’s a mouth behind it?”
“Actually, that does sound like something he’d do,” Dean says.
For all he hates the way Sam bitches about moving too much, he’ll admit that he’s enjoyed staying put the last month and a half, making a group of friends whose names he can all remember, whose jokes he’s become a part of. Doesn’t hurt that Sam’s mood skyrockets with the start of a new school year, as lame as that makes his brother. Maybe it’s the pot or the sun on his face, the refreshing warmth to contrast the cool air of autumn, but Dean feels good.
“She slipped a note into Henry’s locker. Told us to be there Thursday night and try it, and then she delivered.” Rob’s smug grin only grows. “You know what, fine, don’t believe me. When the other guys show up, they’ll tell you. She took all of us, man. One after the other. You’d have gotten to try it if you weren’t so chickenshit about that old house.”
“I’m not scared of it,” Jack insists, though Dean can tell it’s for shit from what little he can see of the guy’s expression out of the corner of his eye. He wishes he could put Jack’s worries at bay, tell him he and his little brother checked it out last Tuesday and they kind of know how to spot a haunting, but, well. There’s having friends you can share a laugh with, and then there’s sounding crazy, being laughed at. “I told you. My mom said I-“
Rob snorts. “Mommy wouldn’t let you come out to play. Your loss.”
“Isn’t it kind of gross, anyway?” Jack asks. “Who wants to get that close to one of those walls? That house is a mess. Right, Dean?”
“Sorry, man,” Dean says. “A blowjob is a blowjob.”
“That’s my man,” Rob says, clapping him on the shoulder.
Jack crosses his arms, his round stomach poking out under it like a perfect sphere, and Dean is too high not to laugh a little at how indignant he looks. “I bet she’s a dog,” he says. “So ugly she can’t get a guys’ attention any other way. Or, or, like. I bet she’s a dude. You’re all totally gay now.”
“This was no dude,” Rob insists with all the conviction of a Midwestern teenage boy whose sexuality has been called into question and who has no real way to be sure of what he’s saying. “She had the softest lips. Knew what she was doing, too. Real skilled. Anyway, who cares what she looks like? When your dick is in there and she’s working on you, you can pretend she’s Britney Spears for all it matters.”
“I’m more of a Christina Aguilera guy myself,” Dean replies.
“My point is, I’ve never had my dick sucked like that-”
“Never had your dick sucked by anybody,” Jack mutters.
Rob ignores his friend. “She’s got a gift and she’s sharing it, and I for one am not looking the glory hole in the mouth.”
Dean grins at that one, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him, his eyes dropping shut. He only half listens to the conversation, much more content to let the drug do its work. He feels relaxed and just a little turned on by Rob’s story, real or not. He subtly pushes his hand down over his dick and thinks he could really go for a blowjob right about now.
“Anyway,” Rob is saying the next time Dean tunes in. “Don’t take my word for it. Come with us next time. She promised she’d be back next Thursday night from 7 - 10.”
“Jeez, she’s got regular hours now,” Jack responds. “How long before she starts charging?”
_______________________________________________________________
Dean spends the next three days buzzing with anticipation until finally Thursday night rolls around. He feels kind of guilty leaving Sam alone, but when he knocks on Sam’s door, Sam is buried in some textbook, he hardly even looks up to thank Dean for the pizza money he’d left as a consolation prize.
They all pile into Rob's shitty pick-up truck and pull off before they reach the house to share some beers in the bed, each of them recounting their experience the week before and talking about what they're looking forward to tonight.
It's not a long walk from there, but they're all having a good time, bumping into each other and walking their drunk asses in zigzags down the road. By the time they reach the old house, it's well past eight, and word of mouth must travel fast, because the line of guys waiting almost has Dean and his buddies standing on the stairs.
"Man," Dave says, eyeballing the line. He runs a hand over his afro anxiously. "What if there's too many guys and she gets tired? We shoulda been here earlier."
"Nah," Rob replies, his eyes practically shining, half in love with this mystery girl. "She's a champ. Bet she'll only get more into it."
There are murmurs of approval from the crowd, and Dean can't help wondering if these small town boys are just not used to landing women of experience like Dean is, or if she's really as good as they all say she is.
He finds out soon enough. Dave goes in before him, comes out after less than fifteen minutes with a look on his face like he's just had his brain sucked out.
"Was I right or what?" Rob says behind Dean, and Dave cracks a smile, ushering Dean in.
Dean closes the door and looks around the room. He's in one of the bedrooms Sam had inspected, so he hadn't even bothered to look at it before. It's hard to tell the wall color in the dark, but Dean can tell it's a drab pastel, and when he looks at the scratched wallpaper over the hole, he momentarily feels the squeamish disgust that had made Jack beg off.
But, well. Dean came to get his dick sucked, and he's gonna get his dick sucked.
He unhooks his belt buckle and lets his jeans pool around his feet on the floor. The hole is a good height, maybe a little more suited for someone a few inches shorter, but it's not uncomfortable to slip in.
Almost immediately, he feels soft lips wrap around, only the head, and he grins, easing himself through all the way.
The girl doesn't hesitate. She widens the 'O' of her mouth so it's easy for Dean to push to the back of her throat, and then she gets to work.
Dean's cock has been in a fair share of mouths in his life-plenty of older ladies, working girls, he's enjoyed the entire spectrum of experience when it comes to blowjobs. And despite his own reserved expectations, this girl has him practically whimpering after only a few minutes.
"Jesus, sweetheart," he says. "Fuck, you really know what you're doing."
The girl pauses for a moment when he starts talking, and Dean curses himself for distracting her, nearly dying at the sudden loss of suction where there'd been so much. Then she gets over it, takes Dean all the way in, until Dean's entire body is pressed against the wall just trying to reach the limit of what she can take.
All worries of whether this house is gross or not are out the window. Dean doesn't fucking care. He humps himself against the hard surface, trying desperately to bridge the distance between himself and that fucking incredible mouth on the other side, even his face pressing against the wall, and the mossy decaying smell somehow only makes it hotter.
"God, fuck," he says as she bobs on him. He's fucking her skull through the hole, but trying to control himself, trying to make this last longer and let her work at her own pace, because her pace is amazing. "Oh god."
He hears a moan come from her that only turns him on more. It's too muted through the wall for him to really identify it, try to assign it to one of the girls at school. Unexpectedly, her head is so good Dean can't even conjure up any of the fantasies he'd thought he would use to keep his mind busy while he was here. He's so in the moment that the little hole in the wall, the disembodied mouth behind it, are hotter than Britney and Christina going to town on each other while Dean feeds one of them his dick.
"Yeah, take it," Dean says. He's panting, he can tell there isn't long left for him. "Shit, you take it so fucking good. Never met a girl who could take it like you."
At that, she pulls all the way off, tongues at Dean's slit and then moves down, tantalizing, only the tip of her tongue tracing the thick vein on the bottom of his achingly hard cock.
"Please," he begs. "Please, take it, babe. Know you want it."
She does want it, if the enthusiasm with which she dives back in is anything to go by. She swallows him to the back of her throat, and Dean imagines her, pressed all the way up trying to take as much of him as possible, kissing the gap in the plaster of this filthy shack.
He comes without any warning, and it doesn't take her by surprise. Again, she's the one to shock Dean. She holds him between her lips as he pulses, and he can feel her throat working around him. She's swallowing. No way did Dean expect that.
When she's finally done drinking every last drop of him, Dean pulls out, bends over to pick up his pants, and he knows it's against the spirit of the whole thing, but he tries to peek. Tries to see any hint of who she is.
She must be used to guys doing that, because she's dodged out of view.
"You shy, darlin'?" Dean teases in the drawl that has never once failed to get him laid. "You know, I'm pretty talented myself. You give me your number, I'd sure like to return the favor. I'd give you the best fuck of your life, make you cry on my tongue. I'm a real gentleman like that."
Dean thinks he hears a moan, a grunt, he wonders if she's finger fucking her pussy over in that other room, if she's coming just for him. She must get off on this, if she does it so often, but there's no way she comes every time. Not with the line of satisfied customers Dean saw filter through.
"C'mon," he keeps insisting. "Know you liked that as much as I did. I don't care what you look like. I like all kinds of girls. I'll give you the night of your life."
She doesn't say anything, and after another half minute or so, there's a pounding on the door.
"I heard you finish, man!" It's Rob, utterly impatient. Probably worried Dean is trying to steal his turn. And Dean would, if she'd give him a chance, so he can't fault his friend for not trusting him. "We're still waiting out here."
Dean leaves reluctantly, casting one last glance to the hole before he leaves, and Rob rushes in, slamming the door shut behind him.
_______________________________________________________________
They compare notes after, as they're all walking back to the truck. When Dean mentions being surprised she swallowed, they all go quiet, staring at him with wide eyes.
"No shit?" Dave asks. "She didn't swallow for me. Had a little spit cup right next to her, from what I could hear."
"Me too," Henry agrees, wrapping one arm around Dean's shoulder and ribbing him lightly with the other. "She must have liked you."
Dave laughs. "Man, how come Dean always gets all the chicks, even when they can't see that pretty face?"
"It's 'cause I got the swagger," Dean replies, feeling pretty pleased with himself and letting it show.
"How about you?" Henry asks Rob. "Spit or swallow?"
"Spit, both times," Robs says. He gives Dean an angry look. "You're lying, she didn't swallow for you!"
The guys all tease him for staking a claim on the town bicycle, and Dean lets them joke, trying not to think about those moments after he'd finished, his own obsession with knowing who she was, getting a little more of her.
He goes back every Thursday for the next four weeks, as long as they're in town. Every time, she swallows for Dean, and the rest of the guys complain that she won't for them, not even when they bring it up.
Dad rolls back into town on a Wednesday and tells them to pack up. Sam throws a fit, says he's got a life here, though what it is is a damn mystery to Dean. Kid won't talk to him ever. For the first time, he wants to resist, too, wants to beg Dad to let them stay just one day longer, just one more Thursday to go back to that shitty house and fuck that sweet, soft little mouth.
Instead, he collects their things into their duffels, loads up the Impala, and resigns his glory girl to the space of fond memories and endlessly recyclable jerk off fantasies.
_______________________________________________________________
So, it's basically the best day of Dean's life when he hears about another glory hole a few months later. He's dropped high school, much to Sam's distress, prioritizes making money from the jobs he can get town to town and lending Dad his help on hunts whenever John actually wants him.
He's working at a garage in upstate New York during the day, alternates his nights between prowling for chicks and studying for the stupid GED just to shut his brother up. It's during lunch on his third week in town that he overhears two of the other mechanics talking about a girl who sucks cock down at the local dive bar through a hole between two bathroom stalls.
Dean laughs when the other guy's response is similar to his friend Jack's, something about how unsanitary that is and what kind of loser would be desperate enough to get laid for that?
As far as getting laid goes, Dean is far from desperate, and he's sure this girl won't hold a candle to his mystery girl, but Dean's got pretty fond memories of glory holes, knows he'll get off harder than anything just from being in the situation again. He'd never thought he'd stumble on another one-would have sworn that shit was only out of porn, but maybe it's more common than he'd realized. Anyway, to borrow a phrase from Rob, Dean isn't looking the glory hole in the mouth.
On Friday, he arrives at the bar he'd heard his co-worker mention, his cock already half-hard just from anticipation. He thinks it's the first time in his life he's ever seen a longer line for the men's room than the ladies'. But he waits it out, and fuck, it's worth it.
He's not sure if he's remembering wrong, knows orgasms tend to seem better than they are as they're happening, and he's had so many blowjobs between now and then, they must be blurring together. But he swears this girl is as good, maybe even better, than the last. Similar, too, as if they both learned in the same school of mouth fucking dudes through holes in walls.
Dean makes sure to block off Friday nights while they're in town, and after every hard week at work, Dean unwinds into the most welcoming searing hot lips he's ever been lucky enough to get inside.
Of course, it can only last for so long. Two months pass, and John calls, tells Dean to get Sam ready, because he's picking them up on Sunday. At least this time, he gets a goodbye fuck in. And he'd almost swear she knows, with all the extra tricks she throws in, making their last time better than the ones before.
Alright, so Dean gets a little sentimental when there's a lot of good sex involved.
_______________________________________________________________
That summer, they end up stranded in the hottest pit of hell. At least, that's what it feels like to him. Sam is always bored, always unhappy, and Dean can't offer him anything better. He hates this town, too, the goddamn armpit of Florida, where only rednecks and gators come out to play.
He's in a bit of a dry spell. Hard to find decent girls to mess around with when he's got a little brother to look after and train, and they got here after the school year ended. Sammy doesn't know any other kids in town, doesn't have any of those clubs or classes he uses to ditch Dean all nine months of the year. Actually, Dean maybe kind of loves that part, but it's killing him to have Sam hanging off him all day and no outlet for all the weird sexual frustration that causes.
Dean isn't an idiot. When, a month into their internment, suddenly he starts to hear whispers of another hole, another wall, another girl who will take all comers in a very literal sense, Dean gets that this is starting to be a little suspicious.
It's even more so when he goes for the first time, and he knows this mouth by now, has had her so many times in three completely different places. It's her. It's the mystery girl. The same girl all three times.
"You following us?" Dean asks after he's finished and she's once again swallowed his load as if he's feeding her the first meal she's tasted since the last time she sucked him off. "What are you, some kind of creature?"
There's no response. No laughter, though, no denial. Just the same damn endless quiet she's given him in the last towns. He leaves, a little annoyed, but when he gets home, Sam is sprawled out on the couch, looking winded, a pink tinge to his cheeks, as if he just ran a marathon.
"You okay?" Dean asks.
Sam nods. "Yeah, just…it's hot as balls here, you know?"
Dean does know. He doesn't ask too many questions. Doesn't hang around to interrogate a sweat-drenched, panting Sam. That image is enough that Dean goes back next week despite his suspicions, because, fuck, he needs to take that edge off. Needs to keep himself sated before he does something he can't ever take back to the one person that means the most to him.
She's such a sweet girl. Doesn't hold grudges. She doesn't stop sucking him when she hears that it's him, doesn't hold back, despite his accusations the week before. When he's done, he laughs as he does up his fly.
"Don't believe in angels," he says. "But damn, if you're anything, that must be it."
_______________________________________________________________
It all kind of hits him at once. Real epiphany moment, every clue flashing before his eyes-the works. They're in Nebraska this time, a state Dean is pretty sure no one has ever gotten a blowjob in until the hole in the wall appears at the local rec center, where Dean has taken a job as a janitor, because money is tight and jobs are tighter and Dean's never been one for putting on airs.
There's no rumor-spreading this time, no set hours, really very little pretense. One day the hole isn't there, the next it is. Dean thinks back on how they'd teased Rob, over a year ago now, about putting his dick in random walls, but Dean sees the hole and he has to know, so that's exactly what he does. Fucks his cock right into that slot, and what do you know? There's a warm, willing mouth on the other side.
He must not be the only one, either, because tons of guys who work at the center or go there to use the facilities start to linger around the closet where the hole is, until finally it starts to become a line during times when she's there.
It's almost every day now, like her hunger is growing, and Dean goes, every fucking time he goes. He tries to think up theories, a succubus, maybe trying to get seed, but the lore says their harvesting is much more unpleasant, and it doesn't account for the fact that, by all reports, Dean is still the only person she ever swallows for. And she does. Every time.
Best intentions have long since slipped away, and although he tries his best to picture some stacked chick with tits the size of her head, rubbing them over on the other side of the wall, more and more, he loses himself, lets himself pretend it's Sam. Because Sam is growing up, damn is he growing up, and what was tempting at 14 has become impossible to ignore as Sam gets taller, his shoulders broader, his hands so big.
Dean tries not to look, but he looks. And that's why, when he happens to pass Sam, who is sprawled out on the couch watching TV in his boxers, he can't help but take note of the bruises on Sam's knees. And that's it, the lightbulb over Dean’s head flickers on. Everything slips into place. It wasn't some supernatural threat following them because Dean's dick is just that sweet. The only person in all those towns at the same exact time as Dean was Sam. It's been Sam all along.
He's been fucking his little brother's mouth every chance he could get for more than a year specifically because he's been trying so hard not to do that.
To his great shame, Dean is back the next day. He goes in, waits until Sam's started on him to say, "Go on, Sammy. You sure like that, don't you?"
Sam pauses, just like he had that first time when he heard Dean's voice. God, Dean's been so fucking stupid.
"Finish what you started," he demands through gritted teeth, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
And Sam does. He lets out a moan louder than he's ever let himself be, and now, way too late for it to be of any use, Dean understands all that silence the "mystery girl" had given him when he tried talking to her.
Sam's gotten so goddamn clever in the time he's been doing this. He'd been pretty experienced by the first town, if that really was the first town at all, but now he's had hundreds of cocks to try out new tricks on, learning what works and what doesn't work. Maybe it's guilt, maybe this is an apology, or maybe it's a goodbye, but Sam pulls out all the stops.
Dean is nearly crying, because it feels so good, so good and Sam takes him so hot, like he was born to do this and nothing but this. That was never something Dean wanted for him. His baby-faced little brother, who maybe Dean had terrible thoughts about, but who Dean had been sure was so pure, so naïve. Sam's been on his knees for months, fucking every dick that came near him with a mouth Dean still can picture gap-toothed and innocent.
"Sam," he groans, pressing his forehead against the wall and slamming his hand on it. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sammy."
Sam answers with his own wanton sound, sucks Dean harder and Dean is shaking, trying so hard not to come. They can't ever do this again. If he comes, it's over. He'll have to face what he did to Sam, instead of all the pleasure Sam's offering in this moment.
But it builds and it builds and Sam's relentless. He takes Dean so deep, pulls out and slams back in, Dean has long since learned this mouth is better than he can make it with skull fucking. He stays still, passive and yet all-too-much a part of this.
When he finishes, Sam pulls back for the first time. He doesn't spit, though. Some of it must land in his mouth, because he lets the head of Dean's dick rest on his tongue, but some must miss, must land on Sam's chin, on his cheek as he rubs his face on Dean, like he's trying to fucking snuggle with what's left of Dean's erection.
It's a picture of absolute, unmitigated debauchery that is going to make putting an end to this even harder.
He pulls out and squats down, and he sees one eye through the hole, an eye the color of Dean's entire universe.
"Get your things," Dean says. "We're going."
Sam doesn't argue for once in his life. Dean steps out of the closet, smiles with a fake apology on his lips. "Sorry, fellas," he says to the line of men waiting for Sam. "You can all go. She's done for today."
"What?" the third guy in line says. "Hell no! You don't just get to take her home, ruin it for the rest of us. That's not fair."
Dean isn’t thinking of how fast he'll lose his job, how they'll probably need to hightail out of town before tomorrow morning, before he pulls the glock he keeps tucked into the back of his jeans, which he'd made sure to put back in place after he'd finished with Sam. All he's thinking about is all these fucking scumbags trying to use his brother-well, exactly like Dean has been.
He aims it at the guy and says again, slower this time, so no one misunderstands, "She's leaving with me. You're done here. Scatter."
No one waits around to see if Dean is actually nuts enough to pull the trigger. They all scramble in a panic, some of them yelling about the gun, some hurling insults at Dean. He doesn't care. There are sirens approaching by the time the coast is clear, and Dean throws open the door to the adjoining room, sees Sam standing there with his head bowed in shamed.
He grabs his brother's hand and tugs. "Let's get out of here," he says. "We'll talk when we get home."
_______________________________________________________________
Forty-five minutes later, they're back in the living room of the house they've been renting, Sam sitting on the couch and Dean pacing the room, just like he has been for the last twenty minutes. They're both silent, have been since they got home.
Finally Sam asks, "Should I say something?"
"Why?" Dean replies, turning on him. "Why?"
"Why could be so many questions right now, Dean," Sam says, raising his head with a half-crooked smile, like he's trying very hard to play this off. "Could you elaborate?"
"Why would you be doing that?" Dean demands.
"Well, why did you think some random girl was doing it when you thought it was some random girl."
"I don't know, Sam. Daddy issues, maybe. I'm not in the mood for riddles. I didn't ask about some girl. I asked about you." He stops pacing just long enough to make sure he's looking at Sam. "Why did you go to that hole the first time at all? Was it daddy issues? Is this just supposed to be another way to rebel against him?"
"What? No!" Sam sits up, so indignant, as if what Dean just said is the most ridiculous thing he ever heard. "This had nothing to do with Dad. You're-" He looks scared, cuts his eyes away. "Are you gonna tell him?"
"Of course I'm not gonna tell him," Dean answers, wondering how he'd even start that conversation. 'Hey, Dad, Sam's been sucking an awful lot of cock lately, I know because I've had front row seats for every event.' "I just want to understand you, Sammy." Dean sits down next to his brother, almost takes his hands, then thinks better of it. Best not to touch Sam right now. Or, you know, ever again. "You never let me understand anymore. Why did you do it?"
"Because I love it," Sam says simply, shrugging his shoulders. "I love it, Dean. I love cock, I love taking it. Any way I can get it. As much as I can." His cheeks are bright red, and he stares down at his hands. "I love to suck cock. I love cock up my ass. I love more than one at a time. I love taking one after another. I don't know why, but I do. I fucking can't get enough. It's the only thing I can depend on to make me happy."
"But you," Dean says stupidly, completely out of his element. He used to know Sam so well. When could Sam have learned this without Dean noticing? How long exactly has he not known his little brother at all? "But you never told me you were…you never told me."
"Didn’t know how to tell you. Didn't think you'd look at me the same." Sam chokes up, staring at Dean. "And I was right, look at you. You're disgusted with me."
"Not-"
Sam cuts him off. "I used to be disgusted, too, Dean. Used to try to tell myself there was something wrong with me, that no one should be this easy, that it meant I was broken or something. But it's just how I am and I love it, love it so much. I'm good at it, too, you know how good I am. I'm so good at taking it. I can't help it."
Dean rubs a hand over his mouth. "You knew it was me. All those times you knew it was me."
His brother's face changes then, hurt is clear in his expression, but it's more guilt than anything. "I'm sorry," he says, voice breaking on a sob. "Dean, please don't hate me. I'm so sorry. I knew it was wrong, I knew it."
Dean reaches out for him despite himself, lets Sam catch his breath in his arms. "I don't hate you, Sam. I could never."
"I do the glory hole thing in towns where we're settled for a while. I got the idea when I saw that first hole, when you made me go check out that stupid not haunted house, and it seemed like such a good idea. Such a good way to get as much as I could. It's not easy, being a guy, you never know where you can risk being public about it. I did okay before, but once I started at the hole. It was like I was in Heaven, all that attention I got. So much dick. And then. Then you started coming."
"Why didn't you stop me?" Dean asks. "I never would have done that to you."
"You never would have," Sam agrees, sitting up and wiping the back of his hand over his wet cheeks. "The first time was an accident for me too. Didn't know it was you until you started talking. Then I figured it would freak you out more to know than to just get through it."
"But you kept on-"
"I know." Sam takes a deep breath and lets it out. "I did, I'm sorry. I went out of my way, Dean. Made sure I spread the word so it would eventually make it back to you. Made sure to make you feel so good you wouldn't ever get bored of it. I knew it was stupid, too, to do it so often, that every town I did it in I was risking you finding out. I just…couldn't make myself care. It was too good to have you."
Dean shakes his head and Sam continues, "I told you I'm not ashamed for what I like. That's true. But what I want? I know I'm twisted. That every time someone is inside of me, I pretend it's you is beyond fucked up. So, so many times, I pretended it was you and then it really was. I'm sick. But I love you so much it kills me and I don't know how to say it anymore. I just wanted to make you feel so good. Wanted you to run to me instead of all those girls you give your cock to, because I know-I know-I can do things for you they couldn't ever dream of. I was made to take you. You said that to me once, when you were coming. You tasted so good and you sounded even better and your dick was so perfect, shit, Dean, it was the happiest moment of my life."
"Sam, I've tried so hard to be good to you. To be good for you."
"I know," Sam answers. "You have been, and I ruined it. I thought you might not find out. Thought I could keep it up forever. But you never would have wanted me if you'd known it was-"
"You're wrong," Dean says. "I've been closing my eyes and thinking of you almost every time I went for-well. Before it started, if I'm being honest. Been trying so hard not to fuck my sweet, innocent little brother up."
"Innocent," Sam echoes with a laugh that feels a little dead. "You really wanted me? Did I ruin it? Did you only want me because you thought I was clean?"
"You're not dirty," Dean says, cupping his brother's face and making Sam look at him. "You might be a filthy little slut, but you're the only thing I think about. That doesn't change just because you've enjoyed yourself. Hell, I'm a slut, too."
"It's girls for you," Sam says. "Everyone acts like it's different if it's with girls. It's okay with girls."
"This isn't okay." Dean leans in, gives his brother a brief kiss. "Not okay at all. You're my goddamn baby brother. But that's what I want. That what you want, Sammy?"
Sam's eyes are closed, but he nods, chasing Dean's lips. "Want so much, Dean."
"Tell me," Dean says, because it's too late, isn't it, to take it back. They've crossed the line more times than Dean can count, both admitted their dirtiest secrets, and it's not like he has to protect Sam's virtue. It's driving him crazy, thinking so many guys have touched Sam all over and inside too, and Dean's only had one part of him. Dean reaches over, grabbing Sam's crotch. "Tell me what you want."
"Want to be so full of you, Dean," Sam says, sounding like he's lost any brain-to-mouth filter he's ever had. Sam's eyes are blown wide, lust without abandon, and Dean thinks, fuck, Sam thought Dean might not want him because he's like this? He might die on the spot from wanting it too much.
"Gonna give you my cock, Sam. Gonna give it to you so hard. Every time you want it, I'm gonna give it to you. You won't ever need anyone but me taking care of you."
Sam moans, shifting his hips up into the pressure of Dean's hand on his growing bulge.
"I owe you," Dean whispers. "Want me to suck you? Huh? Want me to fuck you with my mouth."
"N-no," Sam gasps. "I want you inside me. I want you all the way inside me."
He doesn't have to tell Dean twice. Dean opens his pants, pulls his cock out of his boxers, and Sam strips in seconds, so fast and so eager Dean doesn't know how he thought this kid was a virgin. He settles himself on Dean's lap and Dean gathers his brother in to him, one hand splayed on each asscheek.
"Don't get too comfortable," Dean murmurs as Sam attacks Dean's mouth with his own. "Still gotta go grab lube and condoms, get you ready."
Sam pulls back, his teeth caught on Dean's bottom lip, just the right side of painful. "I'm so ready," Sam says, taking one of Dean's hands and guiding it back farther, so he can feel Sam's hole.
Sam is wet and already loose, and Dean nearly pushes him off in his sudden jealousy. "Someone fucked you today? Who?"
"No one," Sam assures him. "I always fuck myself when I've got you in my mouth. Like to imagine it's you on both ends, that you're splitting me all over."
"Jesus," Dean says, grunting as he thrusts his hips up into empty air. "Keep talking like that and I'll shoot my load before we even get started."
"In me," Sam begs. "Don't let it go until it's in me."
"We should be safe," Dean points out. "Both of us have had our fair share of encounters. I don't want to risk getting you-"
"Please." Sam gives him those big, wide eyes. To date, Dean has never once turned those eyes down. "Please, I need to feel all of you. I've always been careful, with everyone but you. Never swallowed for anyone but you. I get tested, too, every month. I'm promiscuous, not dumb."
Dean hides his face against his brother's shoulder as he laughs, because that, that was the most Sam thing he's ever heard. Of course his brother would even nerd out, leave no stone unturned, about being the biggest cockslut in the continental U.S.
"Don't laugh at me!" Sam says, shoving him.
"Hey, c'mere." Dean brings Sammy down to meet his lips, this kiss softer than before. "I said we'd do it how you want. So if you don't want a condom, we won't have one."
Sam grins. "Please can you fuck me now?"
"Yeah," Dean replies. "It's been like, what, a whole hour since you last had a dick in you? You might starve."
"Exactly." His brother nods as he lifts his body, getting a better position to straddle Dean's lap, and then he slowly lowers, impaling himself on Dean's cock. "It's a very serious situation."
Dean would laugh if all the air in him didn't get punched out by the sudden, unbelievably tight feel of Sam around him. He's never fucked a guy, but he's talked a few girls into letting him try anal. This is nothing like that, no awkward transitioning period, no having to reassure and ask his partner to relax. Sam is more relaxed than Dean is.
Once he's fully seated, Dean shoves up, and he can't get in any more than he is, but you can't fault a guy for trying. All he wants is to go so deep into Sam that he gets lost.
"Fuck," Sam says, moving his hips in a way that must be illegal. "That's so good, Dean. You feel so good. Oh, god, it's just like I imagined. Such a perfect cock, fuck."
Dean feels a little out of his element, a little pressed to believe Sam. Sam's had so many dicks, and there's nothing special about Dean's. It's a good size, but Sam has probably had bigger, fatter, someone who has fucked a guy before and knows what feels good for Sam, not just for himself.
Sam presses Dean back against the couch, using Dean's shoulders as leverage as he starts to take Dean for the ride of his life. His fingers are digging into Dean's skin so hard on both sides he knows he'll have bright purple bruises tomorrow to match the marks on Sam's knees.
He loves the idea that they'll be able to see the evidence of this, that when he looks in the mirror he'll know this wasn't just another dream.
Sam wasn't kidding, and his enthusiasm takes over before long. He bounces on Dean hard, rough, fast, and faster, and too damn fast for Dean to do anything except let his head fall back, his hips piston in uncontrolled thrusts, and his mouth run away with him.
"Fuck, Sammy, such a fucking slut," he says. "Sam, who would have thought you'd be such a needy little whore for me. Bet I could share you with anyone and you'd let me, long as you were getting my cock. You'd do anything for my cock, wouldn't you? Gonna take it whenever I goddamn want and still be hungry, huh?"
Sam screams yes after every question, seems to be getting off on Dean telling him how good he takes it even more than he gets off on taking it.
When Sam stops on him and looks Dean in the eye, Dean can tell he's getting a crazy idea. Can tell he's gonna like it.
"Gonna come on your dick, Dean," Sam promises. "Any of those girls ever do that? Huh? Any of them come for you without you having to lift a finger?"
Dean shakes his head no, reaching up to grip his brother's hips. Sam's rhythm changes completely, from the wild abandon to slow, meticulous grinds of his hips.
"Right there," Sam is saying as he looks down between them, focusing on where their bodies are connected. "That's the spot, Dean. Gonna keep you right there until I can't stand it anymore."
"Fuck, please, Sammy, I wanna see that so bad. Wanna see you lose it just from my dick."
"So close," Sam assures him. He bites his bottom lip and his eyebrows draw in together, the little scowl he has when he's dead set on figuring out a particularly challenging homework assignment. "Just like-"
Suddenly Sam freezes up on him, his whole body spasming as his breath leaves him in a few choked off gasps. Dean quirks his head just right to see Sam's cock as it begins to shoot, no hands for the come to get caught by or drip on. It goes so high it hits Dean's nipple, and when Sam swoops down to lick that drop off, Dean's shaft still buried deep in Sam's ass, that's when Dean falls over the edge himself.
He starts to come right into his brother, and Sam makes a content sound, circling his hips like he's determined to milk Dean dry with his tight little ass. "Just like that."
Dean feels like his orgasm goes on forever, far surpassing any sex he's ever had. By the time he's down, Sam's face is pressed to Dean's shoulder, mouth open against it, sucking lazily at the skin there. He should probably tell Sam to stop that, but he feels too damn good to be a nag right now.
"Sammy," he whispers, reaching up to run a hand through Sam's long, sex-tangled hair. He's still inside Sam, even though he's mostly soft by now, and Sam doesn't seem interested in changing that, so Dean only hugs him closer. "You were perfect. My perfect boy."
He feels Sam smile against him. "Does that mean I can keep you?" He wiggles his ass to demonstrate his point. "Here?"
"We'll probably have to move some day," Dean says. Sam makes an annoyed sound, and Dean laughs. "Didn't say it had to be today."
"So you're not going to freak out about this?"
"Got a lot of things I want to protect you from out there," Dean says. "This isn't one of them. Not if it's what you want."
"Always gonna want this," Sam tells him. "Always gonna want you."
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 for underage (Sam is 14/15), explicit sexual content including barebacking
Word Count: 8,016
Author’s Note: Third fill for spn_masquerade written for the prompt: When Dean finds out from some high school seniors that there's a girl who sucks dicks for hours through a gloryhole every Thursday night in an abandoned house, he can't wait for the next Thursday to go to the address they gave him and get his dick sucked, too.
When it happens again a few months later in a different town, he can't believe his luck. Seriously, that kind of shit only happens in porn. Dean's in heaven.
The third time, he starts to think that it's a bit suspicious. Is it really that common, or is someone following them? It doesn't really matter though, because hey, blowjobs, man.
The fourth time, though, Dean finally puts two and two together. It doesn't stop him from getting his dick sucked..
Summary: When Dean finds out from some high school seniors that there's a girl who sucks dicks for hours through a gloryhole every Thursday night in an abandoned house, he can't wait for the next Thursday to go to the address they gave him and get his dick sucked, too.
When it happens again a few months later in a different town, he can't believe his luck. The third time, he starts to think that it's a bit suspicious. The fourth time, though, Dean finally puts two and two together.
“It’s a shithole,” Sam says into the speaker. “But it’s not haunted.”
“Language, Sammy,” Dean mutters, but he knows it’s useless. Dad’s on his way to a real hunt, his mind focused on the details he knows so far and where he’ll start once he gets there. He’s not going to care if his youngest has decided to have a dirty mouth of late.
Sam hangs up and tosses the cell back to Dean. “He wants us to be sure. ‘Secure the parameter,’” Sam adds, with air quotes and a hearty eye roll. “As if we don’t know how to tell if a house is haunted without sweeping every inch. I swear, he doesn’t think we can do anything right.”
“Watch that attitude,” Dean replies. Sam is already halfway up the stairs, nothing but a wave of his hand behind his back to show Dean he even heard. Dean pointedly looks away from his brother’s ass as it ascends the stairs, and he briefly wonders just when the hell it became a chore not to stare at his kid brother like a piece of meat.
Maybe around the time Sam stopped following him around, stopped looking up to him and craving his attention, started answering with hand gestures and annoyed glares instead. Maybe Dean just needs to meet a certain Sam quota or it all goes ugly.
“You gonna help me?” Dean snaps back to attention, looking up to see his brother’s head poking out from the top of the staircase. “I mean, it is Dad’s orders.”
He nods, following his brother up to the second floor. By the time he’s on the landing, Sam is gone, vanished into one of the many rooms. Dean can hear the distant buzz of Sam’s EMF meter picking up absolutely nothing.
They hadn’t much been expecting this to be a real hunt, but Dean is still a little disappointed. Not like it’s all that common to stumble on a hunt in a town you’re already in to check out something else, but all the kids at school had gone on about this place, how creepy it was, how you could always feel someone watching you.
Dean had brought it up to Dad over breakfast as Dad was preparing for his hunt, and John had been pleased at his initiative, had given him the go-ahead to check it out with Sam in tow. Dean had been a little excited, too, at the prospect of a good old fashioned haunted house, a hunt for just him and Sammy to share, but of course, Sam had groused, whined about how he wanted to be in bed early so he could rest up for his algebra test.
Now they’re here and Dean looks around the broken windows and the torn curtains, peeling wallpaper, graffiti from all the local kids who come here for fun. It’s the perfect Hollywoodesque setting for a horror movie. He doesn’t need the EMF meter to tell him the only thing unusual about it is that no one has bought the lot and knocked it down yet. Sam was right about this being a waste of time.
Sam reappears in the hallway and shoves past Dean to get back to the stairs. It’s dark, and Sam’s obviously trying to get ahead of him, but Dean could swear there’s a pink tint to his cheeks. “I checked all the rooms. It’s clear.”
“You sure you didn’t find anything spooky?” Dean asks, drawing the last word out and looming over Sam as best as he can now that the kid is nearly his size.
Sam shoves him away and laughs (which Dean counts as a victory against teenage angst) and when his flashlight moves over Sam’s face, it is definitely redder.
“I found,” Sam says. He stops, swallows hard, and then keeps right on walking to the stairs. “Nothing, Dean, except how annoying you are.”
_______________________________________________________________
“Dude, I’m telling you, it happened,” Rob is saying, leaning back against the wall behind the gym with the most self-satisfied grin Dean has ever seen in his life. “I’m not making this up.”
“Your ugly ass would have to get your dick sucked through a wall,” Jack replies, laughing at his own insult as he hefts his considerable weight from one side to the next. He passes Dean the blunt they’re sharing. “Right, Dean? Look at this guy. Face only his mother could love.”
Dean huffs a laugh as he inhales the last of the weed, dropping the butt to the ground and watching the fire and ashes as they get trampled under Jack’s worn pair of forest green All Stars. “Come on, Rob. That shit only happens in movies.”
“I am dead serious,” Rob insists again, pushing his muddy blonde hair away from his face and tucking it back into his baseball cap.
“How would you even find that out?” Jack asks. “Do you just go around sticking your dick into random holes in walls hoping there’s a mouth behind it?”
“Actually, that does sound like something he’d do,” Dean says.
For all he hates the way Sam bitches about moving too much, he’ll admit that he’s enjoyed staying put the last month and a half, making a group of friends whose names he can all remember, whose jokes he’s become a part of. Doesn’t hurt that Sam’s mood skyrockets with the start of a new school year, as lame as that makes his brother. Maybe it’s the pot or the sun on his face, the refreshing warmth to contrast the cool air of autumn, but Dean feels good.
“She slipped a note into Henry’s locker. Told us to be there Thursday night and try it, and then she delivered.” Rob’s smug grin only grows. “You know what, fine, don’t believe me. When the other guys show up, they’ll tell you. She took all of us, man. One after the other. You’d have gotten to try it if you weren’t so chickenshit about that old house.”
“I’m not scared of it,” Jack insists, though Dean can tell it’s for shit from what little he can see of the guy’s expression out of the corner of his eye. He wishes he could put Jack’s worries at bay, tell him he and his little brother checked it out last Tuesday and they kind of know how to spot a haunting, but, well. There’s having friends you can share a laugh with, and then there’s sounding crazy, being laughed at. “I told you. My mom said I-“
Rob snorts. “Mommy wouldn’t let you come out to play. Your loss.”
“Isn’t it kind of gross, anyway?” Jack asks. “Who wants to get that close to one of those walls? That house is a mess. Right, Dean?”
“Sorry, man,” Dean says. “A blowjob is a blowjob.”
“That’s my man,” Rob says, clapping him on the shoulder.
Jack crosses his arms, his round stomach poking out under it like a perfect sphere, and Dean is too high not to laugh a little at how indignant he looks. “I bet she’s a dog,” he says. “So ugly she can’t get a guys’ attention any other way. Or, or, like. I bet she’s a dude. You’re all totally gay now.”
“This was no dude,” Rob insists with all the conviction of a Midwestern teenage boy whose sexuality has been called into question and who has no real way to be sure of what he’s saying. “She had the softest lips. Knew what she was doing, too. Real skilled. Anyway, who cares what she looks like? When your dick is in there and she’s working on you, you can pretend she’s Britney Spears for all it matters.”
“I’m more of a Christina Aguilera guy myself,” Dean replies.
“My point is, I’ve never had my dick sucked like that-”
“Never had your dick sucked by anybody,” Jack mutters.
Rob ignores his friend. “She’s got a gift and she’s sharing it, and I for one am not looking the glory hole in the mouth.”
Dean grins at that one, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him, his eyes dropping shut. He only half listens to the conversation, much more content to let the drug do its work. He feels relaxed and just a little turned on by Rob’s story, real or not. He subtly pushes his hand down over his dick and thinks he could really go for a blowjob right about now.
“Anyway,” Rob is saying the next time Dean tunes in. “Don’t take my word for it. Come with us next time. She promised she’d be back next Thursday night from 7 - 10.”
“Jeez, she’s got regular hours now,” Jack responds. “How long before she starts charging?”
_______________________________________________________________
Dean spends the next three days buzzing with anticipation until finally Thursday night rolls around. He feels kind of guilty leaving Sam alone, but when he knocks on Sam’s door, Sam is buried in some textbook, he hardly even looks up to thank Dean for the pizza money he’d left as a consolation prize.
They all pile into Rob's shitty pick-up truck and pull off before they reach the house to share some beers in the bed, each of them recounting their experience the week before and talking about what they're looking forward to tonight.
It's not a long walk from there, but they're all having a good time, bumping into each other and walking their drunk asses in zigzags down the road. By the time they reach the old house, it's well past eight, and word of mouth must travel fast, because the line of guys waiting almost has Dean and his buddies standing on the stairs.
"Man," Dave says, eyeballing the line. He runs a hand over his afro anxiously. "What if there's too many guys and she gets tired? We shoulda been here earlier."
"Nah," Rob replies, his eyes practically shining, half in love with this mystery girl. "She's a champ. Bet she'll only get more into it."
There are murmurs of approval from the crowd, and Dean can't help wondering if these small town boys are just not used to landing women of experience like Dean is, or if she's really as good as they all say she is.
He finds out soon enough. Dave goes in before him, comes out after less than fifteen minutes with a look on his face like he's just had his brain sucked out.
"Was I right or what?" Rob says behind Dean, and Dave cracks a smile, ushering Dean in.
Dean closes the door and looks around the room. He's in one of the bedrooms Sam had inspected, so he hadn't even bothered to look at it before. It's hard to tell the wall color in the dark, but Dean can tell it's a drab pastel, and when he looks at the scratched wallpaper over the hole, he momentarily feels the squeamish disgust that had made Jack beg off.
But, well. Dean came to get his dick sucked, and he's gonna get his dick sucked.
He unhooks his belt buckle and lets his jeans pool around his feet on the floor. The hole is a good height, maybe a little more suited for someone a few inches shorter, but it's not uncomfortable to slip in.
Almost immediately, he feels soft lips wrap around, only the head, and he grins, easing himself through all the way.
The girl doesn't hesitate. She widens the 'O' of her mouth so it's easy for Dean to push to the back of her throat, and then she gets to work.
Dean's cock has been in a fair share of mouths in his life-plenty of older ladies, working girls, he's enjoyed the entire spectrum of experience when it comes to blowjobs. And despite his own reserved expectations, this girl has him practically whimpering after only a few minutes.
"Jesus, sweetheart," he says. "Fuck, you really know what you're doing."
The girl pauses for a moment when he starts talking, and Dean curses himself for distracting her, nearly dying at the sudden loss of suction where there'd been so much. Then she gets over it, takes Dean all the way in, until Dean's entire body is pressed against the wall just trying to reach the limit of what she can take.
All worries of whether this house is gross or not are out the window. Dean doesn't fucking care. He humps himself against the hard surface, trying desperately to bridge the distance between himself and that fucking incredible mouth on the other side, even his face pressing against the wall, and the mossy decaying smell somehow only makes it hotter.
"God, fuck," he says as she bobs on him. He's fucking her skull through the hole, but trying to control himself, trying to make this last longer and let her work at her own pace, because her pace is amazing. "Oh god."
He hears a moan come from her that only turns him on more. It's too muted through the wall for him to really identify it, try to assign it to one of the girls at school. Unexpectedly, her head is so good Dean can't even conjure up any of the fantasies he'd thought he would use to keep his mind busy while he was here. He's so in the moment that the little hole in the wall, the disembodied mouth behind it, are hotter than Britney and Christina going to town on each other while Dean feeds one of them his dick.
"Yeah, take it," Dean says. He's panting, he can tell there isn't long left for him. "Shit, you take it so fucking good. Never met a girl who could take it like you."
At that, she pulls all the way off, tongues at Dean's slit and then moves down, tantalizing, only the tip of her tongue tracing the thick vein on the bottom of his achingly hard cock.
"Please," he begs. "Please, take it, babe. Know you want it."
She does want it, if the enthusiasm with which she dives back in is anything to go by. She swallows him to the back of her throat, and Dean imagines her, pressed all the way up trying to take as much of him as possible, kissing the gap in the plaster of this filthy shack.
He comes without any warning, and it doesn't take her by surprise. Again, she's the one to shock Dean. She holds him between her lips as he pulses, and he can feel her throat working around him. She's swallowing. No way did Dean expect that.
When she's finally done drinking every last drop of him, Dean pulls out, bends over to pick up his pants, and he knows it's against the spirit of the whole thing, but he tries to peek. Tries to see any hint of who she is.
She must be used to guys doing that, because she's dodged out of view.
"You shy, darlin'?" Dean teases in the drawl that has never once failed to get him laid. "You know, I'm pretty talented myself. You give me your number, I'd sure like to return the favor. I'd give you the best fuck of your life, make you cry on my tongue. I'm a real gentleman like that."
Dean thinks he hears a moan, a grunt, he wonders if she's finger fucking her pussy over in that other room, if she's coming just for him. She must get off on this, if she does it so often, but there's no way she comes every time. Not with the line of satisfied customers Dean saw filter through.
"C'mon," he keeps insisting. "Know you liked that as much as I did. I don't care what you look like. I like all kinds of girls. I'll give you the night of your life."
She doesn't say anything, and after another half minute or so, there's a pounding on the door.
"I heard you finish, man!" It's Rob, utterly impatient. Probably worried Dean is trying to steal his turn. And Dean would, if she'd give him a chance, so he can't fault his friend for not trusting him. "We're still waiting out here."
Dean leaves reluctantly, casting one last glance to the hole before he leaves, and Rob rushes in, slamming the door shut behind him.
_______________________________________________________________
They compare notes after, as they're all walking back to the truck. When Dean mentions being surprised she swallowed, they all go quiet, staring at him with wide eyes.
"No shit?" Dave asks. "She didn't swallow for me. Had a little spit cup right next to her, from what I could hear."
"Me too," Henry agrees, wrapping one arm around Dean's shoulder and ribbing him lightly with the other. "She must have liked you."
Dave laughs. "Man, how come Dean always gets all the chicks, even when they can't see that pretty face?"
"It's 'cause I got the swagger," Dean replies, feeling pretty pleased with himself and letting it show.
"How about you?" Henry asks Rob. "Spit or swallow?"
"Spit, both times," Robs says. He gives Dean an angry look. "You're lying, she didn't swallow for you!"
The guys all tease him for staking a claim on the town bicycle, and Dean lets them joke, trying not to think about those moments after he'd finished, his own obsession with knowing who she was, getting a little more of her.
He goes back every Thursday for the next four weeks, as long as they're in town. Every time, she swallows for Dean, and the rest of the guys complain that she won't for them, not even when they bring it up.
Dad rolls back into town on a Wednesday and tells them to pack up. Sam throws a fit, says he's got a life here, though what it is is a damn mystery to Dean. Kid won't talk to him ever. For the first time, he wants to resist, too, wants to beg Dad to let them stay just one day longer, just one more Thursday to go back to that shitty house and fuck that sweet, soft little mouth.
Instead, he collects their things into their duffels, loads up the Impala, and resigns his glory girl to the space of fond memories and endlessly recyclable jerk off fantasies.
_______________________________________________________________
So, it's basically the best day of Dean's life when he hears about another glory hole a few months later. He's dropped high school, much to Sam's distress, prioritizes making money from the jobs he can get town to town and lending Dad his help on hunts whenever John actually wants him.
He's working at a garage in upstate New York during the day, alternates his nights between prowling for chicks and studying for the stupid GED just to shut his brother up. It's during lunch on his third week in town that he overhears two of the other mechanics talking about a girl who sucks cock down at the local dive bar through a hole between two bathroom stalls.
Dean laughs when the other guy's response is similar to his friend Jack's, something about how unsanitary that is and what kind of loser would be desperate enough to get laid for that?
As far as getting laid goes, Dean is far from desperate, and he's sure this girl won't hold a candle to his mystery girl, but Dean's got pretty fond memories of glory holes, knows he'll get off harder than anything just from being in the situation again. He'd never thought he'd stumble on another one-would have sworn that shit was only out of porn, but maybe it's more common than he'd realized. Anyway, to borrow a phrase from Rob, Dean isn't looking the glory hole in the mouth.
On Friday, he arrives at the bar he'd heard his co-worker mention, his cock already half-hard just from anticipation. He thinks it's the first time in his life he's ever seen a longer line for the men's room than the ladies'. But he waits it out, and fuck, it's worth it.
He's not sure if he's remembering wrong, knows orgasms tend to seem better than they are as they're happening, and he's had so many blowjobs between now and then, they must be blurring together. But he swears this girl is as good, maybe even better, than the last. Similar, too, as if they both learned in the same school of mouth fucking dudes through holes in walls.
Dean makes sure to block off Friday nights while they're in town, and after every hard week at work, Dean unwinds into the most welcoming searing hot lips he's ever been lucky enough to get inside.
Of course, it can only last for so long. Two months pass, and John calls, tells Dean to get Sam ready, because he's picking them up on Sunday. At least this time, he gets a goodbye fuck in. And he'd almost swear she knows, with all the extra tricks she throws in, making their last time better than the ones before.
Alright, so Dean gets a little sentimental when there's a lot of good sex involved.
_______________________________________________________________
That summer, they end up stranded in the hottest pit of hell. At least, that's what it feels like to him. Sam is always bored, always unhappy, and Dean can't offer him anything better. He hates this town, too, the goddamn armpit of Florida, where only rednecks and gators come out to play.
He's in a bit of a dry spell. Hard to find decent girls to mess around with when he's got a little brother to look after and train, and they got here after the school year ended. Sammy doesn't know any other kids in town, doesn't have any of those clubs or classes he uses to ditch Dean all nine months of the year. Actually, Dean maybe kind of loves that part, but it's killing him to have Sam hanging off him all day and no outlet for all the weird sexual frustration that causes.
Dean isn't an idiot. When, a month into their internment, suddenly he starts to hear whispers of another hole, another wall, another girl who will take all comers in a very literal sense, Dean gets that this is starting to be a little suspicious.
It's even more so when he goes for the first time, and he knows this mouth by now, has had her so many times in three completely different places. It's her. It's the mystery girl. The same girl all three times.
"You following us?" Dean asks after he's finished and she's once again swallowed his load as if he's feeding her the first meal she's tasted since the last time she sucked him off. "What are you, some kind of creature?"
There's no response. No laughter, though, no denial. Just the same damn endless quiet she's given him in the last towns. He leaves, a little annoyed, but when he gets home, Sam is sprawled out on the couch, looking winded, a pink tinge to his cheeks, as if he just ran a marathon.
"You okay?" Dean asks.
Sam nods. "Yeah, just…it's hot as balls here, you know?"
Dean does know. He doesn't ask too many questions. Doesn't hang around to interrogate a sweat-drenched, panting Sam. That image is enough that Dean goes back next week despite his suspicions, because, fuck, he needs to take that edge off. Needs to keep himself sated before he does something he can't ever take back to the one person that means the most to him.
She's such a sweet girl. Doesn't hold grudges. She doesn't stop sucking him when she hears that it's him, doesn't hold back, despite his accusations the week before. When he's done, he laughs as he does up his fly.
"Don't believe in angels," he says. "But damn, if you're anything, that must be it."
_______________________________________________________________
It all kind of hits him at once. Real epiphany moment, every clue flashing before his eyes-the works. They're in Nebraska this time, a state Dean is pretty sure no one has ever gotten a blowjob in until the hole in the wall appears at the local rec center, where Dean has taken a job as a janitor, because money is tight and jobs are tighter and Dean's never been one for putting on airs.
There's no rumor-spreading this time, no set hours, really very little pretense. One day the hole isn't there, the next it is. Dean thinks back on how they'd teased Rob, over a year ago now, about putting his dick in random walls, but Dean sees the hole and he has to know, so that's exactly what he does. Fucks his cock right into that slot, and what do you know? There's a warm, willing mouth on the other side.
He must not be the only one, either, because tons of guys who work at the center or go there to use the facilities start to linger around the closet where the hole is, until finally it starts to become a line during times when she's there.
It's almost every day now, like her hunger is growing, and Dean goes, every fucking time he goes. He tries to think up theories, a succubus, maybe trying to get seed, but the lore says their harvesting is much more unpleasant, and it doesn't account for the fact that, by all reports, Dean is still the only person she ever swallows for. And she does. Every time.
Best intentions have long since slipped away, and although he tries his best to picture some stacked chick with tits the size of her head, rubbing them over on the other side of the wall, more and more, he loses himself, lets himself pretend it's Sam. Because Sam is growing up, damn is he growing up, and what was tempting at 14 has become impossible to ignore as Sam gets taller, his shoulders broader, his hands so big.
Dean tries not to look, but he looks. And that's why, when he happens to pass Sam, who is sprawled out on the couch watching TV in his boxers, he can't help but take note of the bruises on Sam's knees. And that's it, the lightbulb over Dean’s head flickers on. Everything slips into place. It wasn't some supernatural threat following them because Dean's dick is just that sweet. The only person in all those towns at the same exact time as Dean was Sam. It's been Sam all along.
He's been fucking his little brother's mouth every chance he could get for more than a year specifically because he's been trying so hard not to do that.
To his great shame, Dean is back the next day. He goes in, waits until Sam's started on him to say, "Go on, Sammy. You sure like that, don't you?"
Sam pauses, just like he had that first time when he heard Dean's voice. God, Dean's been so fucking stupid.
"Finish what you started," he demands through gritted teeth, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
And Sam does. He lets out a moan louder than he's ever let himself be, and now, way too late for it to be of any use, Dean understands all that silence the "mystery girl" had given him when he tried talking to her.
Sam's gotten so goddamn clever in the time he's been doing this. He'd been pretty experienced by the first town, if that really was the first town at all, but now he's had hundreds of cocks to try out new tricks on, learning what works and what doesn't work. Maybe it's guilt, maybe this is an apology, or maybe it's a goodbye, but Sam pulls out all the stops.
Dean is nearly crying, because it feels so good, so good and Sam takes him so hot, like he was born to do this and nothing but this. That was never something Dean wanted for him. His baby-faced little brother, who maybe Dean had terrible thoughts about, but who Dean had been sure was so pure, so naïve. Sam's been on his knees for months, fucking every dick that came near him with a mouth Dean still can picture gap-toothed and innocent.
"Sam," he groans, pressing his forehead against the wall and slamming his hand on it. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sammy."
Sam answers with his own wanton sound, sucks Dean harder and Dean is shaking, trying so hard not to come. They can't ever do this again. If he comes, it's over. He'll have to face what he did to Sam, instead of all the pleasure Sam's offering in this moment.
But it builds and it builds and Sam's relentless. He takes Dean so deep, pulls out and slams back in, Dean has long since learned this mouth is better than he can make it with skull fucking. He stays still, passive and yet all-too-much a part of this.
When he finishes, Sam pulls back for the first time. He doesn't spit, though. Some of it must land in his mouth, because he lets the head of Dean's dick rest on his tongue, but some must miss, must land on Sam's chin, on his cheek as he rubs his face on Dean, like he's trying to fucking snuggle with what's left of Dean's erection.
It's a picture of absolute, unmitigated debauchery that is going to make putting an end to this even harder.
He pulls out and squats down, and he sees one eye through the hole, an eye the color of Dean's entire universe.
"Get your things," Dean says. "We're going."
Sam doesn't argue for once in his life. Dean steps out of the closet, smiles with a fake apology on his lips. "Sorry, fellas," he says to the line of men waiting for Sam. "You can all go. She's done for today."
"What?" the third guy in line says. "Hell no! You don't just get to take her home, ruin it for the rest of us. That's not fair."
Dean isn’t thinking of how fast he'll lose his job, how they'll probably need to hightail out of town before tomorrow morning, before he pulls the glock he keeps tucked into the back of his jeans, which he'd made sure to put back in place after he'd finished with Sam. All he's thinking about is all these fucking scumbags trying to use his brother-well, exactly like Dean has been.
He aims it at the guy and says again, slower this time, so no one misunderstands, "She's leaving with me. You're done here. Scatter."
No one waits around to see if Dean is actually nuts enough to pull the trigger. They all scramble in a panic, some of them yelling about the gun, some hurling insults at Dean. He doesn't care. There are sirens approaching by the time the coast is clear, and Dean throws open the door to the adjoining room, sees Sam standing there with his head bowed in shamed.
He grabs his brother's hand and tugs. "Let's get out of here," he says. "We'll talk when we get home."
_______________________________________________________________
Forty-five minutes later, they're back in the living room of the house they've been renting, Sam sitting on the couch and Dean pacing the room, just like he has been for the last twenty minutes. They're both silent, have been since they got home.
Finally Sam asks, "Should I say something?"
"Why?" Dean replies, turning on him. "Why?"
"Why could be so many questions right now, Dean," Sam says, raising his head with a half-crooked smile, like he's trying very hard to play this off. "Could you elaborate?"
"Why would you be doing that?" Dean demands.
"Well, why did you think some random girl was doing it when you thought it was some random girl."
"I don't know, Sam. Daddy issues, maybe. I'm not in the mood for riddles. I didn't ask about some girl. I asked about you." He stops pacing just long enough to make sure he's looking at Sam. "Why did you go to that hole the first time at all? Was it daddy issues? Is this just supposed to be another way to rebel against him?"
"What? No!" Sam sits up, so indignant, as if what Dean just said is the most ridiculous thing he ever heard. "This had nothing to do with Dad. You're-" He looks scared, cuts his eyes away. "Are you gonna tell him?"
"Of course I'm not gonna tell him," Dean answers, wondering how he'd even start that conversation. 'Hey, Dad, Sam's been sucking an awful lot of cock lately, I know because I've had front row seats for every event.' "I just want to understand you, Sammy." Dean sits down next to his brother, almost takes his hands, then thinks better of it. Best not to touch Sam right now. Or, you know, ever again. "You never let me understand anymore. Why did you do it?"
"Because I love it," Sam says simply, shrugging his shoulders. "I love it, Dean. I love cock, I love taking it. Any way I can get it. As much as I can." His cheeks are bright red, and he stares down at his hands. "I love to suck cock. I love cock up my ass. I love more than one at a time. I love taking one after another. I don't know why, but I do. I fucking can't get enough. It's the only thing I can depend on to make me happy."
"But you," Dean says stupidly, completely out of his element. He used to know Sam so well. When could Sam have learned this without Dean noticing? How long exactly has he not known his little brother at all? "But you never told me you were…you never told me."
"Didn’t know how to tell you. Didn't think you'd look at me the same." Sam chokes up, staring at Dean. "And I was right, look at you. You're disgusted with me."
"Not-"
Sam cuts him off. "I used to be disgusted, too, Dean. Used to try to tell myself there was something wrong with me, that no one should be this easy, that it meant I was broken or something. But it's just how I am and I love it, love it so much. I'm good at it, too, you know how good I am. I'm so good at taking it. I can't help it."
Dean rubs a hand over his mouth. "You knew it was me. All those times you knew it was me."
His brother's face changes then, hurt is clear in his expression, but it's more guilt than anything. "I'm sorry," he says, voice breaking on a sob. "Dean, please don't hate me. I'm so sorry. I knew it was wrong, I knew it."
Dean reaches out for him despite himself, lets Sam catch his breath in his arms. "I don't hate you, Sam. I could never."
"I do the glory hole thing in towns where we're settled for a while. I got the idea when I saw that first hole, when you made me go check out that stupid not haunted house, and it seemed like such a good idea. Such a good way to get as much as I could. It's not easy, being a guy, you never know where you can risk being public about it. I did okay before, but once I started at the hole. It was like I was in Heaven, all that attention I got. So much dick. And then. Then you started coming."
"Why didn't you stop me?" Dean asks. "I never would have done that to you."
"You never would have," Sam agrees, sitting up and wiping the back of his hand over his wet cheeks. "The first time was an accident for me too. Didn't know it was you until you started talking. Then I figured it would freak you out more to know than to just get through it."
"But you kept on-"
"I know." Sam takes a deep breath and lets it out. "I did, I'm sorry. I went out of my way, Dean. Made sure I spread the word so it would eventually make it back to you. Made sure to make you feel so good you wouldn't ever get bored of it. I knew it was stupid, too, to do it so often, that every town I did it in I was risking you finding out. I just…couldn't make myself care. It was too good to have you."
Dean shakes his head and Sam continues, "I told you I'm not ashamed for what I like. That's true. But what I want? I know I'm twisted. That every time someone is inside of me, I pretend it's you is beyond fucked up. So, so many times, I pretended it was you and then it really was. I'm sick. But I love you so much it kills me and I don't know how to say it anymore. I just wanted to make you feel so good. Wanted you to run to me instead of all those girls you give your cock to, because I know-I know-I can do things for you they couldn't ever dream of. I was made to take you. You said that to me once, when you were coming. You tasted so good and you sounded even better and your dick was so perfect, shit, Dean, it was the happiest moment of my life."
"Sam, I've tried so hard to be good to you. To be good for you."
"I know," Sam answers. "You have been, and I ruined it. I thought you might not find out. Thought I could keep it up forever. But you never would have wanted me if you'd known it was-"
"You're wrong," Dean says. "I've been closing my eyes and thinking of you almost every time I went for-well. Before it started, if I'm being honest. Been trying so hard not to fuck my sweet, innocent little brother up."
"Innocent," Sam echoes with a laugh that feels a little dead. "You really wanted me? Did I ruin it? Did you only want me because you thought I was clean?"
"You're not dirty," Dean says, cupping his brother's face and making Sam look at him. "You might be a filthy little slut, but you're the only thing I think about. That doesn't change just because you've enjoyed yourself. Hell, I'm a slut, too."
"It's girls for you," Sam says. "Everyone acts like it's different if it's with girls. It's okay with girls."
"This isn't okay." Dean leans in, gives his brother a brief kiss. "Not okay at all. You're my goddamn baby brother. But that's what I want. That what you want, Sammy?"
Sam's eyes are closed, but he nods, chasing Dean's lips. "Want so much, Dean."
"Tell me," Dean says, because it's too late, isn't it, to take it back. They've crossed the line more times than Dean can count, both admitted their dirtiest secrets, and it's not like he has to protect Sam's virtue. It's driving him crazy, thinking so many guys have touched Sam all over and inside too, and Dean's only had one part of him. Dean reaches over, grabbing Sam's crotch. "Tell me what you want."
"Want to be so full of you, Dean," Sam says, sounding like he's lost any brain-to-mouth filter he's ever had. Sam's eyes are blown wide, lust without abandon, and Dean thinks, fuck, Sam thought Dean might not want him because he's like this? He might die on the spot from wanting it too much.
"Gonna give you my cock, Sam. Gonna give it to you so hard. Every time you want it, I'm gonna give it to you. You won't ever need anyone but me taking care of you."
Sam moans, shifting his hips up into the pressure of Dean's hand on his growing bulge.
"I owe you," Dean whispers. "Want me to suck you? Huh? Want me to fuck you with my mouth."
"N-no," Sam gasps. "I want you inside me. I want you all the way inside me."
He doesn't have to tell Dean twice. Dean opens his pants, pulls his cock out of his boxers, and Sam strips in seconds, so fast and so eager Dean doesn't know how he thought this kid was a virgin. He settles himself on Dean's lap and Dean gathers his brother in to him, one hand splayed on each asscheek.
"Don't get too comfortable," Dean murmurs as Sam attacks Dean's mouth with his own. "Still gotta go grab lube and condoms, get you ready."
Sam pulls back, his teeth caught on Dean's bottom lip, just the right side of painful. "I'm so ready," Sam says, taking one of Dean's hands and guiding it back farther, so he can feel Sam's hole.
Sam is wet and already loose, and Dean nearly pushes him off in his sudden jealousy. "Someone fucked you today? Who?"
"No one," Sam assures him. "I always fuck myself when I've got you in my mouth. Like to imagine it's you on both ends, that you're splitting me all over."
"Jesus," Dean says, grunting as he thrusts his hips up into empty air. "Keep talking like that and I'll shoot my load before we even get started."
"In me," Sam begs. "Don't let it go until it's in me."
"We should be safe," Dean points out. "Both of us have had our fair share of encounters. I don't want to risk getting you-"
"Please." Sam gives him those big, wide eyes. To date, Dean has never once turned those eyes down. "Please, I need to feel all of you. I've always been careful, with everyone but you. Never swallowed for anyone but you. I get tested, too, every month. I'm promiscuous, not dumb."
Dean hides his face against his brother's shoulder as he laughs, because that, that was the most Sam thing he's ever heard. Of course his brother would even nerd out, leave no stone unturned, about being the biggest cockslut in the continental U.S.
"Don't laugh at me!" Sam says, shoving him.
"Hey, c'mere." Dean brings Sammy down to meet his lips, this kiss softer than before. "I said we'd do it how you want. So if you don't want a condom, we won't have one."
Sam grins. "Please can you fuck me now?"
"Yeah," Dean replies. "It's been like, what, a whole hour since you last had a dick in you? You might starve."
"Exactly." His brother nods as he lifts his body, getting a better position to straddle Dean's lap, and then he slowly lowers, impaling himself on Dean's cock. "It's a very serious situation."
Dean would laugh if all the air in him didn't get punched out by the sudden, unbelievably tight feel of Sam around him. He's never fucked a guy, but he's talked a few girls into letting him try anal. This is nothing like that, no awkward transitioning period, no having to reassure and ask his partner to relax. Sam is more relaxed than Dean is.
Once he's fully seated, Dean shoves up, and he can't get in any more than he is, but you can't fault a guy for trying. All he wants is to go so deep into Sam that he gets lost.
"Fuck," Sam says, moving his hips in a way that must be illegal. "That's so good, Dean. You feel so good. Oh, god, it's just like I imagined. Such a perfect cock, fuck."
Dean feels a little out of his element, a little pressed to believe Sam. Sam's had so many dicks, and there's nothing special about Dean's. It's a good size, but Sam has probably had bigger, fatter, someone who has fucked a guy before and knows what feels good for Sam, not just for himself.
Sam presses Dean back against the couch, using Dean's shoulders as leverage as he starts to take Dean for the ride of his life. His fingers are digging into Dean's skin so hard on both sides he knows he'll have bright purple bruises tomorrow to match the marks on Sam's knees.
He loves the idea that they'll be able to see the evidence of this, that when he looks in the mirror he'll know this wasn't just another dream.
Sam wasn't kidding, and his enthusiasm takes over before long. He bounces on Dean hard, rough, fast, and faster, and too damn fast for Dean to do anything except let his head fall back, his hips piston in uncontrolled thrusts, and his mouth run away with him.
"Fuck, Sammy, such a fucking slut," he says. "Sam, who would have thought you'd be such a needy little whore for me. Bet I could share you with anyone and you'd let me, long as you were getting my cock. You'd do anything for my cock, wouldn't you? Gonna take it whenever I goddamn want and still be hungry, huh?"
Sam screams yes after every question, seems to be getting off on Dean telling him how good he takes it even more than he gets off on taking it.
When Sam stops on him and looks Dean in the eye, Dean can tell he's getting a crazy idea. Can tell he's gonna like it.
"Gonna come on your dick, Dean," Sam promises. "Any of those girls ever do that? Huh? Any of them come for you without you having to lift a finger?"
Dean shakes his head no, reaching up to grip his brother's hips. Sam's rhythm changes completely, from the wild abandon to slow, meticulous grinds of his hips.
"Right there," Sam is saying as he looks down between them, focusing on where their bodies are connected. "That's the spot, Dean. Gonna keep you right there until I can't stand it anymore."
"Fuck, please, Sammy, I wanna see that so bad. Wanna see you lose it just from my dick."
"So close," Sam assures him. He bites his bottom lip and his eyebrows draw in together, the little scowl he has when he's dead set on figuring out a particularly challenging homework assignment. "Just like-"
Suddenly Sam freezes up on him, his whole body spasming as his breath leaves him in a few choked off gasps. Dean quirks his head just right to see Sam's cock as it begins to shoot, no hands for the come to get caught by or drip on. It goes so high it hits Dean's nipple, and when Sam swoops down to lick that drop off, Dean's shaft still buried deep in Sam's ass, that's when Dean falls over the edge himself.
He starts to come right into his brother, and Sam makes a content sound, circling his hips like he's determined to milk Dean dry with his tight little ass. "Just like that."
Dean feels like his orgasm goes on forever, far surpassing any sex he's ever had. By the time he's down, Sam's face is pressed to Dean's shoulder, mouth open against it, sucking lazily at the skin there. He should probably tell Sam to stop that, but he feels too damn good to be a nag right now.
"Sammy," he whispers, reaching up to run a hand through Sam's long, sex-tangled hair. He's still inside Sam, even though he's mostly soft by now, and Sam doesn't seem interested in changing that, so Dean only hugs him closer. "You were perfect. My perfect boy."
He feels Sam smile against him. "Does that mean I can keep you?" He wiggles his ass to demonstrate his point. "Here?"
"We'll probably have to move some day," Dean says. Sam makes an annoyed sound, and Dean laughs. "Didn't say it had to be today."
"So you're not going to freak out about this?"
"Got a lot of things I want to protect you from out there," Dean says. "This isn't one of them. Not if it's what you want."
"Always gonna want this," Sam tells him. "Always gonna want you."