Don't Close Your Eyes, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Don't Close Your Eyes
Pairing/Characters: Sam/OMC, Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2901
Summary: This is the sequel to Don't Go Out Tonight and Don't Say No, and Don't Say You're Sorry, Don't Leave Me and Don't Ask Me to Stay. Months have passed and Sam has been on his own in California, but he's about to discover that his past isn't something he can hide from.
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 everytime I think I reached the end, I realize there's more story to tell.
Sam ‘s steps slowed as he sensed someone behind him, someone pacing him as he made his way toward his dorm room. It was late and his breath plumed on the cool night air.
He stepped lightly, quickly, sliding into the alley between the buildings, tensing.
A shadow passed and Sam relaxed slowly. He’d been on edge for weeks. Neither Dean nor his father were answering his phone calls, and Dean’s number had been disconnected in the last few weeks.
Sam was alone, and he felt it with every fiber of his being.
Every shadow was Mosley come to collect. Or some john he’d tricked his first month in Palo Alto…someone who wanted more.
And they all wanted more.
Dean’s money ran out fast, and until Sam could get into housing at the beginning of the year, he’d been strapped. He worked at a bar until they found out his ID was fake. Then he’d tried other things…until the night a guy propositioned him at a bar in San Francisco.
It had been easier than he’d imagined. Just slipped into the alley and went to his knees. And that night he’d paid for his hotel and ate a steak for dinner.
When the shadow didn’t come back, Sam chided himself and headed for his dorm. He had homework to finish.
It wasn’t until he reached his dorm that he felt it again. Familiar. Out of place. He stiffened, shouldering his backpack as he slowed. He swallowed hard and rounded the corner in the corridor.
There, against the wall by his door.
He stopped. Just stopped. Breathing, moving…just stopped.
Slowly Dean turned to him and smiled, though there was no happiness in his face. “Sammy.”
“Dean?” Sam took a few steps and stopped again. “Dean.”
Dean nodded, then was pushing off the wall and Sam was wrapping his arms around his brother, holding on like there was nothing in the world more important at that very moment.
After a long time, Dean patted his back and Sam reluctantly let him go. Dean’s face was pale and there was a scar Sam didn’t remember down his left jaw line, under the scruffy facial hair.
“Look at you. College boy.” Dean’s hand brushed over his shoulder, then fell to his side when Sam’s eyes touched the scars on it.
“Dean.” Sam breathed the name, reaching for the hand, but Dean just pulled it away.
“Long time.”
Sam nodded slowly. It had been June when Dean had hugged him and thrust a bus ticket into his hands. June. It was nearly Thanksgiving.
Sam’s eyes swept over his brother. He was thin, with dark circles under his eyes and he looked worn. Sam opened the door to his room. “Um…my roommate is…probably at his girlfriend’s. I don’t have much here…but we could go get something…if you’re hungry.”
Dean shook his head as he came into the room, his eyes skimming over the walls and small beds before coming back to Sam’s eyes. “You okay, Sam?”
“Yeah, Dean.” Sam sat on his bed, staring at the floor. He was coping at any rate. Mosley and his ordeal was like a part of another life. Except for the way the idea of the man still being alive haunted him. Except for the nightmares. “You?”
Dean shrugged and moved to the window, watching the quad below. “I’m alive. More than I can say for some.”
Sam sucked in air and stood, turning to Dean. “Mosley?”
Dean’s face fell forward and the air left Sam in a rush. “I…tried Sam. I really did.”
Sam licked his lips and moved away, crossing his arms over his chest to ward off the chill suddenly in the air. “Not your fault,” he mumbled.
“I hurt him.” Dean said, not looking up. “Burns.” He rubbed his right hand down his thigh. “Took out two of his guys.”
Sam nodded, but couldn’t speak. It would be different if he knew Mosley was dead. Everything would be different.
“I paid what I could. But it wasn’t enough.”
Sam shivered and tried to ignore the creeping feeling of filth that was crawling over his skin.
“Do you hear me Sam?”
Dean was turning him, pulling on his arms. “Do you understand?”
Sam nodded dully. “Yeah, Mosley’s coming for me.”
Dean pulled him into a hug. “I’m going to end this.”
Sam didn’t have the strength to argue. He just sagged against Dean and let him hold him.
Dean woke to the sounds of someone in the room. His eyes slitted open. In the half light of not-yet-morning, a short kid with spiky blond hair was tiptoeing in, making for the empty bed. Dean’s hand tightened on the gun under the pillow.
Sam’s body was tight against his on the small bed. The kid’s eyes got wide when he was close enough to see. When he realized Dean was awake he sat down hard on his bed.
Sam shifted, pushing Dean harder against the wall. Dean made a show of laying his head back down and closing his eyes. Dean listened to the kid getting settled in to sleep. Dean hadn’t really slept in months.
Not since the whole thing started with Mosley. Not since he’d let Sam whore himself out just to spare Dean some pain. Then there’d been the rape and his father finding out what Dean had done.
Dean had stalked the night, paying out justice one by one on those responsible. Until there was only Mosley. It should have worked. The blast was specific. Instead of killing Mosley though it had burned him, his face and part of his chest.
And then Dean wasn’t just running from the cops for the assaults, but he was running from Mosley too.
When Mosley caught him, Dean had expected to die. Painfully.
His hand clenched reflexively around the gun. The bastard had a sense of poetic justice. He could still remember the smell of the blowtorch…of his skin burning.
If not for his father, he’d have died there in that warehouse where Mosley had taken Sam’s final payment.
Dean inhaled deeply and swallowed.
If not for his father, Dean would be sitting in a jail cell awaiting trial for murder and arson and assault.
The least he could do now was protect Sam.
He should have felt safer with Dean beside him, but somehow it only made everything seem worse. Sam ducked in out of the rain, pulling his wet hoodie closer and tugging on the zipper.
Dean was somewhere behind him. It was like having a stalker.
It had been a week. Dean insisted on staying close, but not too close. Sam had finally gotten a good enough look at the hand to know that whatever had happened it had been bad. They didn’t really talk, but then, they never really did.
Dean had scared his roommate into staying away and Dean was sleeping in his bed now. Sam woke up every few hours to make sure he was still there. Then last night Sam had woke from one of the nightmares and Dean had been wrapped around him from behind, holding him while he whimpered and shook.
When it was over, Dean didn’t leave, just held Sam all the tighter. Until Sam had lurched from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He couldn’t let Dean know what his touch had done. Dean really would hate him then.
He’d retched into the toilet and tried to calm the raging arousal pounding through him. When he finally crawled back to bed, Dean had gone back to the other bed and was pretending to be asleep.
He ducked into his poly-sci class, knowing Dean would hover near the door and wait for him. Sam’s head wasn’t on the lecture or the homework. He could only think of Dean, and how his touch made Sam’s body thrum.
“Mr. Winchester, a word?” He looked up at his professor as he was stuffing his notebook back into his bag.
“Professor?” Sam stopped near his desk expectantly.
Professor Elton was known to be a tough teacher, but Sam had found him to be fair in grading as long as Sam did the work. He was an older man, maybe mid-50’s with steel gray hair and a stern demeanor.
He had also been responsible for getting Sam an early admission to the dormitory when Sam had appealed to the board based on hardship. Elton had championed his case based on Sam’s grades and background.
“I’d like to see you in my office.”
“Right now? My…my brother’s waiting.”
Dean would freak if Sam didn’t come out right away.
“This should only take a minute.”
Sam could tell by the tone that there was no escape so he nodded and shouldered his backpack, following the professor into the smaller room.
“As you know, I have taken a personal interest in you, Mr. Winchester. I was very impressed with the way you overcame the hardships of your childhood and worked hard at your education.” Elton moved to sit behind his desk. “You seemed destined for Stanford.”
“Thank you sir. I have worked hard.”
Elton frowned at him a little. “Imagine my surprise then, to discover that you were not entirely forthcoming.”
Sam sat forward. “I-what?”
“I received an email yesterday from a concerned individual that makes me question your moral standing in this university.”
Sam wasn’t following what he was saying and shook his head. “My what?”
Elton put his hands on the keyboard of his computer, then turned the monitor for Sam to see. Sam started and sat back, physically pulling away from the image.
This had been what his father had seen.
Sam in that damn cheerleader outfit, getting fucked up the ass by Mosley. “Turn it off.”
“There’s more.”
Sam swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m sure there is. I don’t need to see it.”
Elton complied, turning the monitor away and off, before folding his hands on his desk. “I don’t need to tell you that this is a serious issue. It could jeopardize your scholarship.”
Sam was shaking. He bit down on his tongue to keep the tears at bay. He couldn’t lose the scholarship, it was the only thing between him and oblivion. “It isn’t what you think. It…” But what could he say? It was exactly what it looked like.
Elton raised an eyebrow, then reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. He scribbled on the paper and handed it across to Sam. “This doesn’t have to ever go past the two of us. Come to this address tomorrow night, alone. We’ll discuss what we’re going to do about this.”
Sam stared at the paper, then up at Elton. He shook his head. “I can’t-I don’t…”
“Don’t make it harder than it needs to be, Son. And don’t forget your paper is due on Friday.”
Elton turned then to his stack of grading and Sam stood, red faced. He hesitated before taking the paper and shoving it into his pocket. His whole body burned with shame as he burst out the door, just as Dean was pulling it open.
“Sam? What took so-“ Dean stopped as Sam stormed past him, head down and making for his dorm room. Dean followed, calling after him, catching him as Sam threw his door open. “What the hell?”
Sam pulled his arm free and went for the bottle of Jack he’d kept hidden under his bed. He took a long swig, wiping his mouth on his arm as he pulled the bottle away.
Dean grabbed the bottle from him and turned Sam to look at him. “What happened?”
Sam shook his head. “Nothing. Just…bad day.”
“Don’t give me that shit.”
“Don’t start with me.” Sam peeled off his wet clothes. He shivered when he reached bare skin and Dean was cussing at him. “Dean…just…drop it. It’s school shit. I’ll deal with it.”
He turned to find Dean coming at him from across the room, crowding him against the wall. The cold was forgotten as his body flushed with heat. His cock filled hard in his wet jeans and Dean’s hand brushed it, making Sam bite off the moan that wanted to escape.
Dean’s eyes filled with question, with concern. “Sam?” His voice was breathy across Sam’s wet skin.
“Just…let me go.” Sam managed, turning his face away.
Dean’s hand came back to his cock, cupping it, warmth seeping through the cloying wetness. “Easy, Sam. It’s okay.”
“No. No.” Sam was starting to hyperventilate. It wasn’t okay. It was never going to be okay. Not when he wanted to do things to Dean…with Dean…things he should never think about.
But then there was warmth ghosting over his mouth, into him and on some level he vaguely recognized that Dean was kissing him. Kissing.
“No.” Sam pulled back, but the wall held him. Then he pushed, catching Dean off guard and knocking him to the bed.
“Sam. Sam!” He stormed away, only half dressed, but he couldn’t be there in that room with Dean. Not like that.
It was the day before Thanksgiving and the campus was like a ghost town. Everyone who had somewhere else to be was gone. Sam knew Dean was still tailing him, though he hadn’t seen him since leaving the dorm.
He approached the address Elton had given him, his stomach twisting. He had a pretty good idea what this would be. But Sam knew he could do it, because he didn’t have a choice.
He knocked and waited. The door opened and Elton let him in, showing him into an office and closing the doors. “I am pleased to see you’re going to be sensible about this, Sam.”
“Like you gave me a choice?”
“We all have choices, Sam.”
“Okay, what are mine?”
Elton eyed him up and down, as if determining whether he could trust Sam. “I’m a simple man, with simple tastes.”
Sam shook his head. “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?” Sam asked, his voice cold.
“Both, as the mood strikes.”
Sam moved closer to him, reaching for his groin. “And what promises do I get that no one else knows? No one sees the video. No one knows about this?”
“You have my word. I won’t show anyone.”
Of course Sam knew that didn’t mean anything. He’d found the video online himself. Watched himself getting fucked by Mosley and his men over and over on that bed in that warehouse. Heard himself scream and beg.
Elton couldn’t promise anything of the sort. His eyes flitted to the window. Dean was there, Sam could feel him. “I want to know who sent it to you.”
Elton’s hand was on Sam now, rounding over his ass. “I fuck you first.”
Sam nodded slowly and popped the button on his jeans, dropping them and his underwear together before bending forward. He’d prepped, anticipating this and when Elton stuck a finger inside him, Sam didn’t even flinch. “I do have homework to get to, so if you don’t mind getting on with it?” He pulled a condom from his back pocket and held it up.
Elton chuckled, taking the condom and ripping it open…then Sam heard his zipper, felt the blunt head of his cock against the skin of Sam’s ass. Sam’s eyes went back to the window. There was a shadow, vague movement. Dean.
Just the thought of him had Sam rising to the occasion as Elton fucked into him. Sam closed his eyes and bent forward, trying to concentrate on just taking it, just do it and be done.
Elton thrust harder, shoving Sam into the desk. He shivered as he came, pulling out with a pop. Sam pulled up his pants and straightened himself out before turning to Elton.
“The name on the email was Mosley…something.” Elton said, dropping into his chair.
Sam had already figured as much. Mosley was watching him. Knew exactly which professor to go to. “I guess I’ll see you in class then.”
Sam stopped at the door when Elton called his name.
“Next time, wear these.” He tossed a pair of pink satin panties at Sam.
Sam flushed, but didn’t say anything, just bustled out of the house, grabbing in the dark for Dean. “Tell me you got it all.” Sam said as he shoved Dean out of sight and into the bushes that lined the path.
“I got it Sammy. I got all of it.”
Sam swallowed, but his arousal was stronger now, here in the dark with Dean pushed up against him. Dean maneuvered him against a tree, kissed him and this time Sam didn’t fight.
Dean’s hand was inside his jeans, stroking his cock while his mouth moved against Sam’s, his tongue in Sam’s mouth, over his lips. “Sam…Sam…”
He couldn’t breathe…He pushed at Dean’s shoulder, trying gamely to break free, but giving up when his brother's thumb brushed over the tip of his cock and Sam shuddered.
“Don’t close your eyes.” Dean whispered into Sam’s mouth. “Look at me.”
Sam wasn’t sure what he saw in his brother’s face, but it didn’t matter, he was coming, spilling into Dean’s hand and groaning his brother’s name like he was a lover.
Title: Don't Close Your Eyes
Pairing/Characters: Sam/OMC, Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2901
Summary: This is the sequel to Don't Go Out Tonight and Don't Say No, and Don't Say You're Sorry, Don't Leave Me and Don't Ask Me to Stay. Months have passed and Sam has been on his own in California, but he's about to discover that his past isn't something he can hide from.
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 everytime I think I reached the end, I realize there's more story to tell.
Sam ‘s steps slowed as he sensed someone behind him, someone pacing him as he made his way toward his dorm room. It was late and his breath plumed on the cool night air.
He stepped lightly, quickly, sliding into the alley between the buildings, tensing.
A shadow passed and Sam relaxed slowly. He’d been on edge for weeks. Neither Dean nor his father were answering his phone calls, and Dean’s number had been disconnected in the last few weeks.
Sam was alone, and he felt it with every fiber of his being.
Every shadow was Mosley come to collect. Or some john he’d tricked his first month in Palo Alto…someone who wanted more.
And they all wanted more.
Dean’s money ran out fast, and until Sam could get into housing at the beginning of the year, he’d been strapped. He worked at a bar until they found out his ID was fake. Then he’d tried other things…until the night a guy propositioned him at a bar in San Francisco.
It had been easier than he’d imagined. Just slipped into the alley and went to his knees. And that night he’d paid for his hotel and ate a steak for dinner.
When the shadow didn’t come back, Sam chided himself and headed for his dorm. He had homework to finish.
It wasn’t until he reached his dorm that he felt it again. Familiar. Out of place. He stiffened, shouldering his backpack as he slowed. He swallowed hard and rounded the corner in the corridor.
There, against the wall by his door.
He stopped. Just stopped. Breathing, moving…just stopped.
Slowly Dean turned to him and smiled, though there was no happiness in his face. “Sammy.”
“Dean?” Sam took a few steps and stopped again. “Dean.”
Dean nodded, then was pushing off the wall and Sam was wrapping his arms around his brother, holding on like there was nothing in the world more important at that very moment.
After a long time, Dean patted his back and Sam reluctantly let him go. Dean’s face was pale and there was a scar Sam didn’t remember down his left jaw line, under the scruffy facial hair.
“Look at you. College boy.” Dean’s hand brushed over his shoulder, then fell to his side when Sam’s eyes touched the scars on it.
“Dean.” Sam breathed the name, reaching for the hand, but Dean just pulled it away.
“Long time.”
Sam nodded slowly. It had been June when Dean had hugged him and thrust a bus ticket into his hands. June. It was nearly Thanksgiving.
Sam’s eyes swept over his brother. He was thin, with dark circles under his eyes and he looked worn. Sam opened the door to his room. “Um…my roommate is…probably at his girlfriend’s. I don’t have much here…but we could go get something…if you’re hungry.”
Dean shook his head as he came into the room, his eyes skimming over the walls and small beds before coming back to Sam’s eyes. “You okay, Sam?”
“Yeah, Dean.” Sam sat on his bed, staring at the floor. He was coping at any rate. Mosley and his ordeal was like a part of another life. Except for the way the idea of the man still being alive haunted him. Except for the nightmares. “You?”
Dean shrugged and moved to the window, watching the quad below. “I’m alive. More than I can say for some.”
Sam sucked in air and stood, turning to Dean. “Mosley?”
Dean’s face fell forward and the air left Sam in a rush. “I…tried Sam. I really did.”
Sam licked his lips and moved away, crossing his arms over his chest to ward off the chill suddenly in the air. “Not your fault,” he mumbled.
“I hurt him.” Dean said, not looking up. “Burns.” He rubbed his right hand down his thigh. “Took out two of his guys.”
Sam nodded, but couldn’t speak. It would be different if he knew Mosley was dead. Everything would be different.
“I paid what I could. But it wasn’t enough.”
Sam shivered and tried to ignore the creeping feeling of filth that was crawling over his skin.
“Do you hear me Sam?”
Dean was turning him, pulling on his arms. “Do you understand?”
Sam nodded dully. “Yeah, Mosley’s coming for me.”
Dean pulled him into a hug. “I’m going to end this.”
Sam didn’t have the strength to argue. He just sagged against Dean and let him hold him.
Dean woke to the sounds of someone in the room. His eyes slitted open. In the half light of not-yet-morning, a short kid with spiky blond hair was tiptoeing in, making for the empty bed. Dean’s hand tightened on the gun under the pillow.
Sam’s body was tight against his on the small bed. The kid’s eyes got wide when he was close enough to see. When he realized Dean was awake he sat down hard on his bed.
Sam shifted, pushing Dean harder against the wall. Dean made a show of laying his head back down and closing his eyes. Dean listened to the kid getting settled in to sleep. Dean hadn’t really slept in months.
Not since the whole thing started with Mosley. Not since he’d let Sam whore himself out just to spare Dean some pain. Then there’d been the rape and his father finding out what Dean had done.
Dean had stalked the night, paying out justice one by one on those responsible. Until there was only Mosley. It should have worked. The blast was specific. Instead of killing Mosley though it had burned him, his face and part of his chest.
And then Dean wasn’t just running from the cops for the assaults, but he was running from Mosley too.
When Mosley caught him, Dean had expected to die. Painfully.
His hand clenched reflexively around the gun. The bastard had a sense of poetic justice. He could still remember the smell of the blowtorch…of his skin burning.
If not for his father, he’d have died there in that warehouse where Mosley had taken Sam’s final payment.
Dean inhaled deeply and swallowed.
If not for his father, Dean would be sitting in a jail cell awaiting trial for murder and arson and assault.
The least he could do now was protect Sam.
He should have felt safer with Dean beside him, but somehow it only made everything seem worse. Sam ducked in out of the rain, pulling his wet hoodie closer and tugging on the zipper.
Dean was somewhere behind him. It was like having a stalker.
It had been a week. Dean insisted on staying close, but not too close. Sam had finally gotten a good enough look at the hand to know that whatever had happened it had been bad. They didn’t really talk, but then, they never really did.
Dean had scared his roommate into staying away and Dean was sleeping in his bed now. Sam woke up every few hours to make sure he was still there. Then last night Sam had woke from one of the nightmares and Dean had been wrapped around him from behind, holding him while he whimpered and shook.
When it was over, Dean didn’t leave, just held Sam all the tighter. Until Sam had lurched from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He couldn’t let Dean know what his touch had done. Dean really would hate him then.
He’d retched into the toilet and tried to calm the raging arousal pounding through him. When he finally crawled back to bed, Dean had gone back to the other bed and was pretending to be asleep.
He ducked into his poly-sci class, knowing Dean would hover near the door and wait for him. Sam’s head wasn’t on the lecture or the homework. He could only think of Dean, and how his touch made Sam’s body thrum.
“Mr. Winchester, a word?” He looked up at his professor as he was stuffing his notebook back into his bag.
“Professor?” Sam stopped near his desk expectantly.
Professor Elton was known to be a tough teacher, but Sam had found him to be fair in grading as long as Sam did the work. He was an older man, maybe mid-50’s with steel gray hair and a stern demeanor.
He had also been responsible for getting Sam an early admission to the dormitory when Sam had appealed to the board based on hardship. Elton had championed his case based on Sam’s grades and background.
“I’d like to see you in my office.”
“Right now? My…my brother’s waiting.”
Dean would freak if Sam didn’t come out right away.
“This should only take a minute.”
Sam could tell by the tone that there was no escape so he nodded and shouldered his backpack, following the professor into the smaller room.
“As you know, I have taken a personal interest in you, Mr. Winchester. I was very impressed with the way you overcame the hardships of your childhood and worked hard at your education.” Elton moved to sit behind his desk. “You seemed destined for Stanford.”
“Thank you sir. I have worked hard.”
Elton frowned at him a little. “Imagine my surprise then, to discover that you were not entirely forthcoming.”
Sam sat forward. “I-what?”
“I received an email yesterday from a concerned individual that makes me question your moral standing in this university.”
Sam wasn’t following what he was saying and shook his head. “My what?”
Elton put his hands on the keyboard of his computer, then turned the monitor for Sam to see. Sam started and sat back, physically pulling away from the image.
This had been what his father had seen.
Sam in that damn cheerleader outfit, getting fucked up the ass by Mosley. “Turn it off.”
“There’s more.”
Sam swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m sure there is. I don’t need to see it.”
Elton complied, turning the monitor away and off, before folding his hands on his desk. “I don’t need to tell you that this is a serious issue. It could jeopardize your scholarship.”
Sam was shaking. He bit down on his tongue to keep the tears at bay. He couldn’t lose the scholarship, it was the only thing between him and oblivion. “It isn’t what you think. It…” But what could he say? It was exactly what it looked like.
Elton raised an eyebrow, then reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. He scribbled on the paper and handed it across to Sam. “This doesn’t have to ever go past the two of us. Come to this address tomorrow night, alone. We’ll discuss what we’re going to do about this.”
Sam stared at the paper, then up at Elton. He shook his head. “I can’t-I don’t…”
“Don’t make it harder than it needs to be, Son. And don’t forget your paper is due on Friday.”
Elton turned then to his stack of grading and Sam stood, red faced. He hesitated before taking the paper and shoving it into his pocket. His whole body burned with shame as he burst out the door, just as Dean was pulling it open.
“Sam? What took so-“ Dean stopped as Sam stormed past him, head down and making for his dorm room. Dean followed, calling after him, catching him as Sam threw his door open. “What the hell?”
Sam pulled his arm free and went for the bottle of Jack he’d kept hidden under his bed. He took a long swig, wiping his mouth on his arm as he pulled the bottle away.
Dean grabbed the bottle from him and turned Sam to look at him. “What happened?”
Sam shook his head. “Nothing. Just…bad day.”
“Don’t give me that shit.”
“Don’t start with me.” Sam peeled off his wet clothes. He shivered when he reached bare skin and Dean was cussing at him. “Dean…just…drop it. It’s school shit. I’ll deal with it.”
He turned to find Dean coming at him from across the room, crowding him against the wall. The cold was forgotten as his body flushed with heat. His cock filled hard in his wet jeans and Dean’s hand brushed it, making Sam bite off the moan that wanted to escape.
Dean’s eyes filled with question, with concern. “Sam?” His voice was breathy across Sam’s wet skin.
“Just…let me go.” Sam managed, turning his face away.
Dean’s hand came back to his cock, cupping it, warmth seeping through the cloying wetness. “Easy, Sam. It’s okay.”
“No. No.” Sam was starting to hyperventilate. It wasn’t okay. It was never going to be okay. Not when he wanted to do things to Dean…with Dean…things he should never think about.
But then there was warmth ghosting over his mouth, into him and on some level he vaguely recognized that Dean was kissing him. Kissing.
“No.” Sam pulled back, but the wall held him. Then he pushed, catching Dean off guard and knocking him to the bed.
“Sam. Sam!” He stormed away, only half dressed, but he couldn’t be there in that room with Dean. Not like that.
It was the day before Thanksgiving and the campus was like a ghost town. Everyone who had somewhere else to be was gone. Sam knew Dean was still tailing him, though he hadn’t seen him since leaving the dorm.
He approached the address Elton had given him, his stomach twisting. He had a pretty good idea what this would be. But Sam knew he could do it, because he didn’t have a choice.
He knocked and waited. The door opened and Elton let him in, showing him into an office and closing the doors. “I am pleased to see you’re going to be sensible about this, Sam.”
“Like you gave me a choice?”
“We all have choices, Sam.”
“Okay, what are mine?”
Elton eyed him up and down, as if determining whether he could trust Sam. “I’m a simple man, with simple tastes.”
Sam shook his head. “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?” Sam asked, his voice cold.
“Both, as the mood strikes.”
Sam moved closer to him, reaching for his groin. “And what promises do I get that no one else knows? No one sees the video. No one knows about this?”
“You have my word. I won’t show anyone.”
Of course Sam knew that didn’t mean anything. He’d found the video online himself. Watched himself getting fucked by Mosley and his men over and over on that bed in that warehouse. Heard himself scream and beg.
Elton couldn’t promise anything of the sort. His eyes flitted to the window. Dean was there, Sam could feel him. “I want to know who sent it to you.”
Elton’s hand was on Sam now, rounding over his ass. “I fuck you first.”
Sam nodded slowly and popped the button on his jeans, dropping them and his underwear together before bending forward. He’d prepped, anticipating this and when Elton stuck a finger inside him, Sam didn’t even flinch. “I do have homework to get to, so if you don’t mind getting on with it?” He pulled a condom from his back pocket and held it up.
Elton chuckled, taking the condom and ripping it open…then Sam heard his zipper, felt the blunt head of his cock against the skin of Sam’s ass. Sam’s eyes went back to the window. There was a shadow, vague movement. Dean.
Just the thought of him had Sam rising to the occasion as Elton fucked into him. Sam closed his eyes and bent forward, trying to concentrate on just taking it, just do it and be done.
Elton thrust harder, shoving Sam into the desk. He shivered as he came, pulling out with a pop. Sam pulled up his pants and straightened himself out before turning to Elton.
“The name on the email was Mosley…something.” Elton said, dropping into his chair.
Sam had already figured as much. Mosley was watching him. Knew exactly which professor to go to. “I guess I’ll see you in class then.”
Sam stopped at the door when Elton called his name.
“Next time, wear these.” He tossed a pair of pink satin panties at Sam.
Sam flushed, but didn’t say anything, just bustled out of the house, grabbing in the dark for Dean. “Tell me you got it all.” Sam said as he shoved Dean out of sight and into the bushes that lined the path.
“I got it Sammy. I got all of it.”
Sam swallowed, but his arousal was stronger now, here in the dark with Dean pushed up against him. Dean maneuvered him against a tree, kissed him and this time Sam didn’t fight.
Dean’s hand was inside his jeans, stroking his cock while his mouth moved against Sam’s, his tongue in Sam’s mouth, over his lips. “Sam…Sam…”
He couldn’t breathe…He pushed at Dean’s shoulder, trying gamely to break free, but giving up when his brother's thumb brushed over the tip of his cock and Sam shuddered.
“Don’t close your eyes.” Dean whispered into Sam’s mouth. “Look at me.”
Sam wasn’t sure what he saw in his brother’s face, but it didn’t matter, he was coming, spilling into Dean’s hand and groaning his brother’s name like he was a lover.