SpN: Public Enemies Book Two (4/?)
Title: Public Enemies Part Two
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, original characters
Rating: NC-17
Total Word Count: 4486
Summary: a 1920s AU *very* loosely based on the film, Public Enemy.
Notes/Warnings: abuse, dub-con, harsh images, morally challenged Sam, troubled Dean. There are hints of abuse, physical and sexual, but nothing terribly graphic. The rating is for the overall fic-it varies according to update. For a large part of the fic, the boys are underage.
follows from Public Enemies Book One
one/ two/ three/
"So…not gonna ask what me and A talked about?" Sam asked, licking his way around a vanilla sugar cone.
Dean shrugged. "Nutin' that's my business, I'm sure of that." He stuffed his handkerchief into Sam's free hand. "Geez, ya eat like a kid. What a mess."
Sam smiled at him and lifted his wrist, licked a long trail of white off his arm, sucked a bit off his wrist. "It tastes good. Not my fault it's hot as fuck out here." Dean smacked Sam hard on the back of the head. "Ow, quit it! Dean!"
"What I gotta tell you 'bout your language? I always gotta be on you for that?"
Sam pouted, and threw the cone into the gutter. Dean rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. "Sam, you're too damn old for tantrums. You're too damn old for half the shit you do, and not old enough for the rest." Sam gave him a reluctant little smile at that-Dean mock-pouted at him until finally Sam gave up a dimpled smile. "That's better. Now let's spend this deuce the right way. First, the movies, than maybe we'll ankle over to the pool hall, or Molly's and get dinner. She's got meatloaf and mashed for fifty cents a plate, we could maybe get some pie after. They got a great peach pie-okay, apple," Dean sighed when Sam pulled a face.
They followed the line of people into the Odeon, and Dean stared at the post cards advertising Ben-Hur.. The actor playing the main character was pretty good-looking, Ramon Novarro, and there was supposed to be a hot action scene-a chariot race-that sounded good. A bunch of flappers ahead in line were carrying on something fierce, giggling and gossiping together and then practically stopping traffic by smoking. He grinned and shook his head. Babies, pretending to be bad. Sam just snorted.
"Idiots," He growled.
Dean gave him an indulgent smile. "You think that because you don’t like girls," he whispered, barely moving his lips, voice so low that no one but Sam could have heard it.
"Do so," Sam whispered back and Dean laughed, low and soft and roughed up Sam's perfect hair.
"Sure you do. Sammy…all that matter's is you're my brother, okay?" he said, like that explained it all and Sam's eyes grew bright and a little glazed.
"Yeah. You're my brother," Sam repeated in a way that seemed to mean a million things, but never failed to make Dean feel warm. Needed. "So, Assasi says I have to continue school, says I should get a college picked out for after high school. Says I should go into law."
"Sam, that's great. There's a buncha good schools upstate-you wanna take a ride out there and look around?"
"Hey, throw the brakes on, Cannonball. I haven't even begun my freshman year, yet, sheesh. You that eager to get rid of me?"
Dean glanced over at Sam but he was smiling so he grabbed his little brother around the neck and administered an Indian rub to the back of his neck, ignoring his yowls of outrage-mostly because he was laughing as much as he was yelling.
The ticket taker snorted, enormously unimpressed. "Ah, you guys gonna keep horsing around, or ya gonna buy tickets?"
Sam smirked when Dean made a face at the guy, snagging the tickets out of his hand. Sam looked back and winked as they strolled into the darkness.
They settled in the back row, applauded with the rest of the audience when the lights went down and the organ music grew louder. On the screen bigger than life, Ben-Hur fought and schemed and made love-the females in the audience sighed. Sam fumed because Dean stared with rapt attention at Ben-Hur, drinking in the sight of him, completely lost. Sam hoped the mug would die a horrible death, and contemplated giving Dean a handjob in the dark of the back row, gave it up when he decided Dean would probably flip his wig if Sam made him miss a precious minute of his big prancing crush…he settled down and crammed the milk-duds in his mouth and refused to share even one with his brother. Though Dean didn't seem to notice, probably too busy wishing he was wiping the sweat off Ben-Hur, faithless bastard.
The movies sucked.
Dinner was better. They shoveled in thick chunks of meatloaf, creamy mashed potatoes and they'd had enough to order milkshakes with it. Sam loved that since living with Assasi, they ate when and whatever they wanted-he didn't think he'd ever get tired of eating. The memory of never having enough growing up made him gulp down whatever was in front of him like they'd not get a chance to eat again. Dean watched him with a fond smile. He seemed to love seeing Sam eat. Sam for his part didn't give a shit why Dean watched him; he just lapped up the attention.
Dean was wiping up gravy on his plate with a slice of white bread when he started talking as though they'd been having a conversation all along. "Yeah, A's got me driving on a real job, coming up Friday."
"You drive already," Sam said.
"Nah-not takin' Mr. A around-a real job. Well, close-I'm drivin' the next job Louie's got. Still justa driver but. Step up, y'know?"
"Yeah, yeah…" Sam chewed his bit of meatloaf thoughtfully. Sam knew the real step up was in being A's button man-and he was pretty sure that was what Assasi intended for Dean. He stared at his brother, wondered if he had it in him. He wasn't really a killer, didn't have the heart for it. Thing was, Dean was loyal to Assasi and would do what the man asked. But in Sam's vision of the future, he was the one who held the leash, not A. Sam just had to get Dean there.
Sam felt generous, and let Dean choose peach pie, and hot with a dollop of cream on it, it really wasn't bad. He watched Dean chew and run his tongue over the lips that featured in every fantasy Sam had since he was nine and smiled. Assasi's plan really wasn't too bad…
Dean adjusted the Colt in the underarm holster again-was still getting used to the constant weight and slight pinch of the straps. He sighed, tapped a Chesterfield out of the pack and leaned against the car. Waiting, waiting, waiting for Mr. A to come out of the club. He'd spent the last hour sitting on the running board, smoking one butt after the other. He sighed. Since Assasi'd taken up with the latest bitch, they hit the speakeasies a lot. And when they went, Dean was still fuckin' drivin' him-no matter that he'd run a few jobs with Louie. Hell, they were all milk runs and Assasi still hadn't let him in on when he was going to move over to Louie's crew for good. Here he was, still ferrying Mr. A and whatever latest hooker around town.
The doors opened and a blast of music, Baby Face, rolled out into the relative quiet of the night, followed by the smell of booze, sweaty bodies and smoke. Dean grimaced and shifted his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other and blew a blast of smoke out of his nose. Mr. A came strolling out, that woman hanging off him like a broke hip. She was laughing, loud-mouthed, all teeth and gums. She stumbled like she was too drunk to walk but Dean knew better. He'd seen too many chippies pull the same stunt on the street-seen some daisies do it too. It said, 'I need you' and 'I'm too drunk to protect myself.'
She was everything Dean hated, loud, ignorant, and stuck to Mr. A like a barnacle. She was a whore, might as well be. Her tits showed every time she swung her arms and she swung her arms lots. Dean watched the flash of pink flesh, how the satin gapped and showed a peaked nub of darker pink. Dean caught her eyes on him, frowned and spit the butt to the pavement. He rose to open the door. She made a big production of squirming against him to get past and into the car. Bitch.
"Eh, Dean-o, long night, hunh?."
Bitch yawned wide and stretched. "I'm tired, Daddy, let's go home to bed." She crossed her legs and Dean saw she didn't have underwear on. He wondered what the hell Mr. A saw in the cheap, hop-head floozy. He really wanted to strangle her. He forced his attention back to the road-he wasn't hurting his baby just because A had no fuckin' taste.
* * * * * *
Sam was sitting on the stairs when they got home, still in his school uniform. At first all Dean saw was the white shirt, glowing in light from the lampposts. Sam's jacket was hanging open and his tie pulled loose, framing the open collar on his shirt. He was stretched out on the top step, long legs sprawling in the way. Louie was laughing at something he said. When he saw Dean, he smiled and tossed him a wave. The other guys pulled themselves straight-the boss was back.
Dean tensed all over, watching his brother. Sam unfolded himself from the steps and moved to sink back against the stair's railing, his mouth in a wide smile. So tall now, it was a constant surprise to Dean that they were now almost eye to eye.
Some of the tension leached away when he realized Sam was smiling in that way he smiled only for Dean.
Sam turned, went back to talking with one of the gunsels Mr. A had around all the time. Because of Winchester, the entrances to the brownstone were always watched-it'd been a lesson learned. Dean didn't much care for the way the little rat was leaning into Sammy. Heeled or not, if he fucked with his brother, Dean was more than happy to hand the mug a lesson…
Louie came back out the door and handed Sam a pop, fussed over him some before leaving off and Dean smiled. Louie was worse than a mother hen with Sam. Sam leaned over and whispered something into the baby mug's ear and they laughed together and it sent a bright sharp prick right under his breastbone. He laid on the horn, yanked the wheel, getting ready to pull into the back. Sam's head flew his way, the sharp movement flinging his thick hair around his eyes. He pushed it back and grinned at Dean and every thing was right and balanced again.
Sam jumped off the steps and ran to him, hopping up on the Packard's running board and gripping the door, he laughed loudly as Dean drove back to the courtyard. Dean quickly glanced back to catch the other kid, the little hired gun, staring after Sam. Dean frowned until Sam flicked the tip of his ear and made Dean laugh, the gunsel forgotten under the bright weight of Sammy's smile.
* * * * * *
Sam waited outside the garage doors until Dean parked the car, and Mr. A got out with the floozy. Sam nodded politely to them both. "Hi, Mr. A., did you have a good evening?"
"Ah," he shrugged, and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, dipped his head to let Sam light it. "We called it a early night, nothing going on, and I had a few things Miss Parker here gotta help me with, take some notes or sumthin' for me…."
She giggled and ignored Sam completely and Sam smiled, waited until they were in the house before swinging around to tell Dean, "I hate her."
"Yeah, she's a round-heeled little bitch, all right."
Sam glared at Dean, his fox-eyes gone green with anger. "I hate her because she wants you. And she makes you jealous-I hate that more!"
"Jealous? What the hell're ya talkin' about, Sam, geez-c'mon, we gotta get inside."
They were upstairs and Sam just laying out cold meat and cheese for sandwiches when the phone rang. It was Louie, and Dean's heart beat faster-had a job finally come up for him? He grabbed the phone's receiver from Sam and snapped into the transmitter, "Yeah?"
"Come on 'round to the main house, Chief, the boss wants you."
"Be there in a minute, Lou." Dean slapped the receiver back on the hook, excitement making his gut go hot and tight. "I gotta go, Sam-I bet it's a real job finally. You g'wan ta bed, you got school tomorrow and you been up way too late already." Dean slid on his overcoat, and screwed his fedora onto his head, grinned at Sam's pinched face.
"Stop treating me like a kid, will you? It's belittling and-and offensive."
"Aw, Sammy, you talk so beautiful, makes me shiver all over," Dean teased, and shimmied a bit as he said it.
"Yeah? Is that so?" Sam asked, his voice suddenly deeper, rougher. His eyelids fell slowly, black lashes sweeping down and rising again, tongue sweeping out over his lower lip, making it shine. Shell pink and wet…bitable. "Come back and I'll talk to you some more, hunh?"
"Sam," Dean scolded. "Quit it." Sam was forever, forever doing some odd dance that only he knew the steps for. Dean blushed hotly, thinking of Sam dancing just for him, licking that plump pink lip. Heat coiled deep down inside him and he forced himself to stand straight and tall. "Sam."
Sam pouted, all sign of heat gone. He was just Sammy again, Dean's pain in the ass kid brother. "Dean, come on. Don’t go…I don't think he's callin' for you for somethin' good, can't you …."
"Sorry, Sammy. When Mr. A calls, I gotta go." He buttoned his coat and leaned over to kiss the cheek Sam tipped to him-he was definitely steamed because he just held still for a kiss and kept his eyes trained on the wall opposite them. Dean sighed and brushed Sam's hair back. "Time for a haircut, squirt. I'll do it for you tomorrow after school okay?" He knew and Sam knew it was an olive branch, an apology. Mr. Assasi had barbers who'd cut their hair for free-for Dean to do it meant Dean loved Sam and hated making him unhappy, even for a minute.
* * * * * *
Dean was let into the main house, nothing but Sam on his mind, feeling guilty, sad…and truth be told, a little horny. Whether Sam meant to or not, sometimes he really wound Dean up and that just made him burn. So steamed that Sam could set off such a storm of emotion. Fourteen-the kid shouldn't be such a problem. What Sam did-it drove him crazy. It was okay for little kids who didn’t know better but this thing…it was nuts. Nuts. He hated it…couldn't live with it. Couldn't imagine how to live without it.
Dean blinked, wiped his mouth. Hunh. He was at the door to the parlor without realizing it. He tapped on the doorframe and waited. Assasi answered the door, all smiles and hot eyes and Dean wondered why it wasn't Louie at the door.
"Hey, Dean-o. Y'can take your coat off, we ain't goin' nowheres tonight."
Dean turned toward Mr. Assasi like he brought the sun. Mr. A always made him feel he was solid, both feet on the ground. Something he didn't always feel like around Sam.
Assasi smirked at Dean. He was in shirt sleeves, his suspenders hanging off his hips. Dean's breath stuttered and he glanced away, focused on the wall behind him. Assasi rolled his cuffs, smoothed back the blonde sweep of his hair. "Come sit here, Dean-o, got somethin' to tell you."
She was lounging on the couch, wearing nothing but a satin robe and rolled stockings and little pointy shoes with feathers on the toe and rhinestones on the heels. Every time she moved Dean got a flash of rosy nipple, or sleek cream hip, like she didn't even care or Dean wasn't a man. His cheeks burned-it pissed him off. Made his dick thick up some, unwanted. Dean hated her for it.
Assasi caught Dean's discomfort and laughed softly. "Hey, Dean-boy…you ever been with a girl like that?" He jerked his chin towards the simpering blonde.
"No…I mean, no, not like her."
"Then tonight, I'm giving you a gift." Mr. A smiled, a slinking, foxy crawl of a smile. He held his hand out, and his voice was low and rough, but not pretty like Sam's. Gritty and coarse, like gravel. He said, "C'mon, get over here."
Dean sidled over to Assasi, his head down but watching him through the fringe of hair that fell over his eyes. Assasi put his hand on Dean's neck, broader than Sam's and not as warm. He pulled Dean back until Dean was pressed against his chest. He felt the play of muscle in the other man as he shifted, pushed a knee between Dean's.
The blonde wiggled her ass as she bent over the Victorola, set the needle arm down on the edge of the record and turned it up, loud enough that the pop-hiss of little scratches on the record were plain. Dean jumped a little when The Frank Black Orchestra began belting out the Varsity Drag, snappy and loud, and the dame did some kind of knock-kneed version of the Shimmy. The robe slid open with the way her shoulders shook. With a wink and a red-mouthed grin, she slinked her way across the room, stopping in front of them. She dropped the robe off one shoulder and winked. The pink tip of her tongue swept over her lower lip, she sucked it in with a moan, like she tasted something good. Dean's breath came fast, faster when he felt Assasi behind him. He was hot against Dean's back and Dean could feel him, hips shifting a little off beat to the music. The girl ran her hands down her breasts, tweeking her nipples-her mouth dropped open slightly. She slid her hands down Dean's chest, to his hips, cupped him and Dean's head jerked back, knocking into Assasi, who chuckled and slid his own hand over the girl's. Dean's dick jumped, spitting wet in his shorts. The hand Assasi had on Dean's neck slid to Dean's chin, and framing it with his fingertips, tilted Dean's head down to the girl's mouth. "Ever kiss a girl?"
Dean nodded-he had but this was going to be different than those kisses.
"So go ahead." Assasi's breath was a little sour with wine and Dean shivered. Strong, wiry hands were on his shoulders again, thin, smooth lips grazed his cheek, rasping against the stubble. The girl pressed against him and opened up wet and wide and Dean kissed her. Assasi said, "ah," a tiny sound that he'd have missed if the man wasn't right at his ear. Dean felt the wet, warm tip of his tongue dart against his earlobe, quick and almost not even there.
The girl had his belt open and his dick out and in her mouth and Dean shouted at the feel. Assasi's hands went tight and hot on his shoulders and suddenly, the sun went out. All he could think of, all he wanted, was out-away from them. He only wanted Sam. He wished Sam was there, wanted Sam to take him away…for the first time in his life, he wanted, needed Sam's help.
Assasi inhaled, quick, sharp-and stepped back. He sat on the sofa and smiled at Dean, his eyes glittering bright in the light of the gas jets he kept in the parlor. "Go ahead, have fun. This is for you."
The girl smirked and lost the robe, it slithered off her to puddle around her feet. She bent backwards against a sofa back and spread her legs, all Dean could see was the pink wet inside of her. He shuffled forward, not bothering or wanting to step out of his pants kind of desperate now to get it over with. He stood between her legs. She laughed and lifted them, crossed her ankles behind his back, resting on the rise of his ass. "Go ahead, big boy. Show us what you got."
He pushed in hard and slid in without resistance, she was that wet…or, he realized, she'd already done this and-his hips churned thoughtlessly, his dick riding on a slick made of himself and Assasi…his dick twitched, jumped inside her and she groaned at the feel, tightened on him and Dean thought 'A was in her, came in her, this is him….but it was Sam's face, Sam laughing at him, yanking his head down hard for a bruising kiss, that made him come.
Sam knew; he knew like he'd gotten a telegram from Hell, what Dean was doing at A's. The bitch was bait, Dean was a fool, and this was a play on Assasi's part--or a warning to Sam.
Well, fuck them both. Instead of readying himself for bed like Dean ordered, he strolled around to the house.
Some of Louie's crew, including the main driver, were still camped out on the house steps, further proof that Dean was in A's house, so Sam walked up to the stoop and tilted his head at Nicky. "Hey. You wanna come listen to the radio with me?"
"Who-me?" Nicky's Adam's apple jerked as he swallowed hard, his eyes gone wide and round. "Yeah. But…."
"But me no buts, you coming or not?" Sam grinned as he said it, and let a little heat into his eyes. Fuck Dean, he wasn't the only one who could this. Fuck him if he didn’t want Sam, fuck him. He'd find someone who did. Nicky was fine, Nicky was great-perfect.
In the small spare bedroom that they never used, Sam spread Nicky out over the bed, looking him over and comparing him to Sam's standard: his brother. Nicky wasn't as wide, or as muscled, his eyes weren't green and he didn't have freckles, didn't have a wide, warm mouth. His dick was slender, nothing like the hot, thick handful that he knew Dean's was…but it was sleek, hard, and already bubbling up precome just from Sam's hard, assessing stare. Nicky liked it like that, Sam realized. He might not be as experienced as this boy but Sam could see that he was just waiting to cede control to him. Sam had no plans to disappoint him….
* * * * * *
Sam pulled back, wiped his mouth and left pink smears on the back of his hand. He pumped in and out of Nicky, slowly, contemplative, now that he'd come. He listened to the little gasps and chokes that leaked from Nicky as he tried to breathe. Sam stroked his shoulders and watched goose bumps rise in the wake of his hand, the little comma shape the smear of blood formed as Sam's thumb traced around the half-moon mark of his teeth, so pretty against the sun-browned skin of Nicky's shoulder. Nicky shivered, moaned and shivered…"You okay?" Sam asked.
"Unh-yes, yeah. I'm okay-can I? Is it okay--?"
It took Sam a moment to realize that Nicky was asking permission to come, and he laughed. "Sure, you take care of that-wait."
Sam pulled out and Nicky moaned, deep and disappointed when Sam stopped him from jerking off. Sam flipped him face up on the bed, and said, "Now. I want to see."
Nicky flushed an even deeper red but took his dick in hand and started stroking, teeth pressing into his lower lip, stealing glances at Sam from under the thick dark fringe of his hair. Sam sat cross-legged on the end of the bed and stared, taking note. Watching how sweat sprang up on the man's upper lip, how his eyelids dropped and fluttered as his breath got deeper, louder. He watched pearly drops of precome well up and drip onto his stomach, glisten on his hand. The tiny, half-there hitches his hips made as his dick twitched in his grip, and how the slit pouted open and every inch of Nicky quivered towards release. Sam whispered, "Okay, come," and Nicky screamed, low and hoarse and spurt long ropes on his belly, spattered his chest, gasped when a slick blob smacked his chin. He blinked, mouth open and belly heaving trying to inhale and Sam laughed at how confused and surprised he looked.
"You liked that?" Nicky nodded and Sam nodded too. "I don't think we'll do this again, though."
Nicky opened his mouth to-protest, beg, whatever it was Sam didn't care. He leaned forward, all his weight on Nicky's ankles and said, "I ain't gonna argue about this. And I sure don’t wanna hear from anyone else about this."
Nicky shook his head. His eyes said no, no. Never.
"Good. Get dressed, you gotta get out now. Hey-" he stopped Nicky from scrambling off the bed, and looped an arm around his neck. He kissed him, slow and sweet, pressed his mouth against Nicky's cheek and said "-thank you. Thank you, okay?" Sam gazed into Nicky's eyes and smiled and like that, Nicky was Sam's forever-however Sam wanted him.
Sam studied the boy, how he'd gone from being crushed, to being Sam's, in a few little minutes and for very little work. Sam thought that this was interesting and very useful to know, that he could do a thing like that. Sam wove that bit of information into the web of other information spun in his brain; all the little things Sam thought might one day be important to him.
He thought of Assasi in the dark study, sitting behind the big, mahogany desk, planning Sam and Dean's life out and laughed. Thought about heading to the main house's kitchen and bugging Louie into making him a sandwich, maybe some coffee with it. Letting Louie spin his tales of life in the mob before Assasi, and what it was like. "Not better, Puddy, just-different. Things change," Louie'd say, "Things're always changin', tha's life."
Sam slid his feet into his boots and yanked a jacket on. Louie was right, life was all about change. A smart man tried to guide it to his advantage, though. He shut the door and wondered if Dean was done yet, maybe in the kitchen with Louie. He didn't wash up, and left the bed a wrinkled mess.
part 5
TBC
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, original characters
Rating: NC-17
Total Word Count: 4486
Summary: a 1920s AU *very* loosely based on the film, Public Enemy.
Notes/Warnings: abuse, dub-con, harsh images, morally challenged Sam, troubled Dean. There are hints of abuse, physical and sexual, but nothing terribly graphic. The rating is for the overall fic-it varies according to update. For a large part of the fic, the boys are underage.
follows from Public Enemies Book One
one/ two/ three/
"So…not gonna ask what me and A talked about?" Sam asked, licking his way around a vanilla sugar cone.
Dean shrugged. "Nutin' that's my business, I'm sure of that." He stuffed his handkerchief into Sam's free hand. "Geez, ya eat like a kid. What a mess."
Sam smiled at him and lifted his wrist, licked a long trail of white off his arm, sucked a bit off his wrist. "It tastes good. Not my fault it's hot as fuck out here." Dean smacked Sam hard on the back of the head. "Ow, quit it! Dean!"
"What I gotta tell you 'bout your language? I always gotta be on you for that?"
Sam pouted, and threw the cone into the gutter. Dean rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. "Sam, you're too damn old for tantrums. You're too damn old for half the shit you do, and not old enough for the rest." Sam gave him a reluctant little smile at that-Dean mock-pouted at him until finally Sam gave up a dimpled smile. "That's better. Now let's spend this deuce the right way. First, the movies, than maybe we'll ankle over to the pool hall, or Molly's and get dinner. She's got meatloaf and mashed for fifty cents a plate, we could maybe get some pie after. They got a great peach pie-okay, apple," Dean sighed when Sam pulled a face.
They followed the line of people into the Odeon, and Dean stared at the post cards advertising Ben-Hur.. The actor playing the main character was pretty good-looking, Ramon Novarro, and there was supposed to be a hot action scene-a chariot race-that sounded good. A bunch of flappers ahead in line were carrying on something fierce, giggling and gossiping together and then practically stopping traffic by smoking. He grinned and shook his head. Babies, pretending to be bad. Sam just snorted.
"Idiots," He growled.
Dean gave him an indulgent smile. "You think that because you don’t like girls," he whispered, barely moving his lips, voice so low that no one but Sam could have heard it.
"Do so," Sam whispered back and Dean laughed, low and soft and roughed up Sam's perfect hair.
"Sure you do. Sammy…all that matter's is you're my brother, okay?" he said, like that explained it all and Sam's eyes grew bright and a little glazed.
"Yeah. You're my brother," Sam repeated in a way that seemed to mean a million things, but never failed to make Dean feel warm. Needed. "So, Assasi says I have to continue school, says I should get a college picked out for after high school. Says I should go into law."
"Sam, that's great. There's a buncha good schools upstate-you wanna take a ride out there and look around?"
"Hey, throw the brakes on, Cannonball. I haven't even begun my freshman year, yet, sheesh. You that eager to get rid of me?"
Dean glanced over at Sam but he was smiling so he grabbed his little brother around the neck and administered an Indian rub to the back of his neck, ignoring his yowls of outrage-mostly because he was laughing as much as he was yelling.
The ticket taker snorted, enormously unimpressed. "Ah, you guys gonna keep horsing around, or ya gonna buy tickets?"
Sam smirked when Dean made a face at the guy, snagging the tickets out of his hand. Sam looked back and winked as they strolled into the darkness.
They settled in the back row, applauded with the rest of the audience when the lights went down and the organ music grew louder. On the screen bigger than life, Ben-Hur fought and schemed and made love-the females in the audience sighed. Sam fumed because Dean stared with rapt attention at Ben-Hur, drinking in the sight of him, completely lost. Sam hoped the mug would die a horrible death, and contemplated giving Dean a handjob in the dark of the back row, gave it up when he decided Dean would probably flip his wig if Sam made him miss a precious minute of his big prancing crush…he settled down and crammed the milk-duds in his mouth and refused to share even one with his brother. Though Dean didn't seem to notice, probably too busy wishing he was wiping the sweat off Ben-Hur, faithless bastard.
The movies sucked.
Dinner was better. They shoveled in thick chunks of meatloaf, creamy mashed potatoes and they'd had enough to order milkshakes with it. Sam loved that since living with Assasi, they ate when and whatever they wanted-he didn't think he'd ever get tired of eating. The memory of never having enough growing up made him gulp down whatever was in front of him like they'd not get a chance to eat again. Dean watched him with a fond smile. He seemed to love seeing Sam eat. Sam for his part didn't give a shit why Dean watched him; he just lapped up the attention.
Dean was wiping up gravy on his plate with a slice of white bread when he started talking as though they'd been having a conversation all along. "Yeah, A's got me driving on a real job, coming up Friday."
"You drive already," Sam said.
"Nah-not takin' Mr. A around-a real job. Well, close-I'm drivin' the next job Louie's got. Still justa driver but. Step up, y'know?"
"Yeah, yeah…" Sam chewed his bit of meatloaf thoughtfully. Sam knew the real step up was in being A's button man-and he was pretty sure that was what Assasi intended for Dean. He stared at his brother, wondered if he had it in him. He wasn't really a killer, didn't have the heart for it. Thing was, Dean was loyal to Assasi and would do what the man asked. But in Sam's vision of the future, he was the one who held the leash, not A. Sam just had to get Dean there.
Sam felt generous, and let Dean choose peach pie, and hot with a dollop of cream on it, it really wasn't bad. He watched Dean chew and run his tongue over the lips that featured in every fantasy Sam had since he was nine and smiled. Assasi's plan really wasn't too bad…
Dean adjusted the Colt in the underarm holster again-was still getting used to the constant weight and slight pinch of the straps. He sighed, tapped a Chesterfield out of the pack and leaned against the car. Waiting, waiting, waiting for Mr. A to come out of the club. He'd spent the last hour sitting on the running board, smoking one butt after the other. He sighed. Since Assasi'd taken up with the latest bitch, they hit the speakeasies a lot. And when they went, Dean was still fuckin' drivin' him-no matter that he'd run a few jobs with Louie. Hell, they were all milk runs and Assasi still hadn't let him in on when he was going to move over to Louie's crew for good. Here he was, still ferrying Mr. A and whatever latest hooker around town.
The doors opened and a blast of music, Baby Face, rolled out into the relative quiet of the night, followed by the smell of booze, sweaty bodies and smoke. Dean grimaced and shifted his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other and blew a blast of smoke out of his nose. Mr. A came strolling out, that woman hanging off him like a broke hip. She was laughing, loud-mouthed, all teeth and gums. She stumbled like she was too drunk to walk but Dean knew better. He'd seen too many chippies pull the same stunt on the street-seen some daisies do it too. It said, 'I need you' and 'I'm too drunk to protect myself.'
She was everything Dean hated, loud, ignorant, and stuck to Mr. A like a barnacle. She was a whore, might as well be. Her tits showed every time she swung her arms and she swung her arms lots. Dean watched the flash of pink flesh, how the satin gapped and showed a peaked nub of darker pink. Dean caught her eyes on him, frowned and spit the butt to the pavement. He rose to open the door. She made a big production of squirming against him to get past and into the car. Bitch.
"Eh, Dean-o, long night, hunh?."
Bitch yawned wide and stretched. "I'm tired, Daddy, let's go home to bed." She crossed her legs and Dean saw she didn't have underwear on. He wondered what the hell Mr. A saw in the cheap, hop-head floozy. He really wanted to strangle her. He forced his attention back to the road-he wasn't hurting his baby just because A had no fuckin' taste.
* * * * * *
Sam was sitting on the stairs when they got home, still in his school uniform. At first all Dean saw was the white shirt, glowing in light from the lampposts. Sam's jacket was hanging open and his tie pulled loose, framing the open collar on his shirt. He was stretched out on the top step, long legs sprawling in the way. Louie was laughing at something he said. When he saw Dean, he smiled and tossed him a wave. The other guys pulled themselves straight-the boss was back.
Dean tensed all over, watching his brother. Sam unfolded himself from the steps and moved to sink back against the stair's railing, his mouth in a wide smile. So tall now, it was a constant surprise to Dean that they were now almost eye to eye.
Some of the tension leached away when he realized Sam was smiling in that way he smiled only for Dean.
Sam turned, went back to talking with one of the gunsels Mr. A had around all the time. Because of Winchester, the entrances to the brownstone were always watched-it'd been a lesson learned. Dean didn't much care for the way the little rat was leaning into Sammy. Heeled or not, if he fucked with his brother, Dean was more than happy to hand the mug a lesson…
Louie came back out the door and handed Sam a pop, fussed over him some before leaving off and Dean smiled. Louie was worse than a mother hen with Sam. Sam leaned over and whispered something into the baby mug's ear and they laughed together and it sent a bright sharp prick right under his breastbone. He laid on the horn, yanked the wheel, getting ready to pull into the back. Sam's head flew his way, the sharp movement flinging his thick hair around his eyes. He pushed it back and grinned at Dean and every thing was right and balanced again.
Sam jumped off the steps and ran to him, hopping up on the Packard's running board and gripping the door, he laughed loudly as Dean drove back to the courtyard. Dean quickly glanced back to catch the other kid, the little hired gun, staring after Sam. Dean frowned until Sam flicked the tip of his ear and made Dean laugh, the gunsel forgotten under the bright weight of Sammy's smile.
* * * * * *
Sam waited outside the garage doors until Dean parked the car, and Mr. A got out with the floozy. Sam nodded politely to them both. "Hi, Mr. A., did you have a good evening?"
"Ah," he shrugged, and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, dipped his head to let Sam light it. "We called it a early night, nothing going on, and I had a few things Miss Parker here gotta help me with, take some notes or sumthin' for me…."
She giggled and ignored Sam completely and Sam smiled, waited until they were in the house before swinging around to tell Dean, "I hate her."
"Yeah, she's a round-heeled little bitch, all right."
Sam glared at Dean, his fox-eyes gone green with anger. "I hate her because she wants you. And she makes you jealous-I hate that more!"
"Jealous? What the hell're ya talkin' about, Sam, geez-c'mon, we gotta get inside."
They were upstairs and Sam just laying out cold meat and cheese for sandwiches when the phone rang. It was Louie, and Dean's heart beat faster-had a job finally come up for him? He grabbed the phone's receiver from Sam and snapped into the transmitter, "Yeah?"
"Come on 'round to the main house, Chief, the boss wants you."
"Be there in a minute, Lou." Dean slapped the receiver back on the hook, excitement making his gut go hot and tight. "I gotta go, Sam-I bet it's a real job finally. You g'wan ta bed, you got school tomorrow and you been up way too late already." Dean slid on his overcoat, and screwed his fedora onto his head, grinned at Sam's pinched face.
"Stop treating me like a kid, will you? It's belittling and-and offensive."
"Aw, Sammy, you talk so beautiful, makes me shiver all over," Dean teased, and shimmied a bit as he said it.
"Yeah? Is that so?" Sam asked, his voice suddenly deeper, rougher. His eyelids fell slowly, black lashes sweeping down and rising again, tongue sweeping out over his lower lip, making it shine. Shell pink and wet…bitable. "Come back and I'll talk to you some more, hunh?"
"Sam," Dean scolded. "Quit it." Sam was forever, forever doing some odd dance that only he knew the steps for. Dean blushed hotly, thinking of Sam dancing just for him, licking that plump pink lip. Heat coiled deep down inside him and he forced himself to stand straight and tall. "Sam."
Sam pouted, all sign of heat gone. He was just Sammy again, Dean's pain in the ass kid brother. "Dean, come on. Don’t go…I don't think he's callin' for you for somethin' good, can't you …."
"Sorry, Sammy. When Mr. A calls, I gotta go." He buttoned his coat and leaned over to kiss the cheek Sam tipped to him-he was definitely steamed because he just held still for a kiss and kept his eyes trained on the wall opposite them. Dean sighed and brushed Sam's hair back. "Time for a haircut, squirt. I'll do it for you tomorrow after school okay?" He knew and Sam knew it was an olive branch, an apology. Mr. Assasi had barbers who'd cut their hair for free-for Dean to do it meant Dean loved Sam and hated making him unhappy, even for a minute.
* * * * * *
Dean was let into the main house, nothing but Sam on his mind, feeling guilty, sad…and truth be told, a little horny. Whether Sam meant to or not, sometimes he really wound Dean up and that just made him burn. So steamed that Sam could set off such a storm of emotion. Fourteen-the kid shouldn't be such a problem. What Sam did-it drove him crazy. It was okay for little kids who didn’t know better but this thing…it was nuts. Nuts. He hated it…couldn't live with it. Couldn't imagine how to live without it.
Dean blinked, wiped his mouth. Hunh. He was at the door to the parlor without realizing it. He tapped on the doorframe and waited. Assasi answered the door, all smiles and hot eyes and Dean wondered why it wasn't Louie at the door.
"Hey, Dean-o. Y'can take your coat off, we ain't goin' nowheres tonight."
Dean turned toward Mr. Assasi like he brought the sun. Mr. A always made him feel he was solid, both feet on the ground. Something he didn't always feel like around Sam.
Assasi smirked at Dean. He was in shirt sleeves, his suspenders hanging off his hips. Dean's breath stuttered and he glanced away, focused on the wall behind him. Assasi rolled his cuffs, smoothed back the blonde sweep of his hair. "Come sit here, Dean-o, got somethin' to tell you."
She was lounging on the couch, wearing nothing but a satin robe and rolled stockings and little pointy shoes with feathers on the toe and rhinestones on the heels. Every time she moved Dean got a flash of rosy nipple, or sleek cream hip, like she didn't even care or Dean wasn't a man. His cheeks burned-it pissed him off. Made his dick thick up some, unwanted. Dean hated her for it.
Assasi caught Dean's discomfort and laughed softly. "Hey, Dean-boy…you ever been with a girl like that?" He jerked his chin towards the simpering blonde.
"No…I mean, no, not like her."
"Then tonight, I'm giving you a gift." Mr. A smiled, a slinking, foxy crawl of a smile. He held his hand out, and his voice was low and rough, but not pretty like Sam's. Gritty and coarse, like gravel. He said, "C'mon, get over here."
Dean sidled over to Assasi, his head down but watching him through the fringe of hair that fell over his eyes. Assasi put his hand on Dean's neck, broader than Sam's and not as warm. He pulled Dean back until Dean was pressed against his chest. He felt the play of muscle in the other man as he shifted, pushed a knee between Dean's.
The blonde wiggled her ass as she bent over the Victorola, set the needle arm down on the edge of the record and turned it up, loud enough that the pop-hiss of little scratches on the record were plain. Dean jumped a little when The Frank Black Orchestra began belting out the Varsity Drag, snappy and loud, and the dame did some kind of knock-kneed version of the Shimmy. The robe slid open with the way her shoulders shook. With a wink and a red-mouthed grin, she slinked her way across the room, stopping in front of them. She dropped the robe off one shoulder and winked. The pink tip of her tongue swept over her lower lip, she sucked it in with a moan, like she tasted something good. Dean's breath came fast, faster when he felt Assasi behind him. He was hot against Dean's back and Dean could feel him, hips shifting a little off beat to the music. The girl ran her hands down her breasts, tweeking her nipples-her mouth dropped open slightly. She slid her hands down Dean's chest, to his hips, cupped him and Dean's head jerked back, knocking into Assasi, who chuckled and slid his own hand over the girl's. Dean's dick jumped, spitting wet in his shorts. The hand Assasi had on Dean's neck slid to Dean's chin, and framing it with his fingertips, tilted Dean's head down to the girl's mouth. "Ever kiss a girl?"
Dean nodded-he had but this was going to be different than those kisses.
"So go ahead." Assasi's breath was a little sour with wine and Dean shivered. Strong, wiry hands were on his shoulders again, thin, smooth lips grazed his cheek, rasping against the stubble. The girl pressed against him and opened up wet and wide and Dean kissed her. Assasi said, "ah," a tiny sound that he'd have missed if the man wasn't right at his ear. Dean felt the wet, warm tip of his tongue dart against his earlobe, quick and almost not even there.
The girl had his belt open and his dick out and in her mouth and Dean shouted at the feel. Assasi's hands went tight and hot on his shoulders and suddenly, the sun went out. All he could think of, all he wanted, was out-away from them. He only wanted Sam. He wished Sam was there, wanted Sam to take him away…for the first time in his life, he wanted, needed Sam's help.
Assasi inhaled, quick, sharp-and stepped back. He sat on the sofa and smiled at Dean, his eyes glittering bright in the light of the gas jets he kept in the parlor. "Go ahead, have fun. This is for you."
The girl smirked and lost the robe, it slithered off her to puddle around her feet. She bent backwards against a sofa back and spread her legs, all Dean could see was the pink wet inside of her. He shuffled forward, not bothering or wanting to step out of his pants kind of desperate now to get it over with. He stood between her legs. She laughed and lifted them, crossed her ankles behind his back, resting on the rise of his ass. "Go ahead, big boy. Show us what you got."
He pushed in hard and slid in without resistance, she was that wet…or, he realized, she'd already done this and-his hips churned thoughtlessly, his dick riding on a slick made of himself and Assasi…his dick twitched, jumped inside her and she groaned at the feel, tightened on him and Dean thought 'A was in her, came in her, this is him….but it was Sam's face, Sam laughing at him, yanking his head down hard for a bruising kiss, that made him come.
Sam knew; he knew like he'd gotten a telegram from Hell, what Dean was doing at A's. The bitch was bait, Dean was a fool, and this was a play on Assasi's part--or a warning to Sam.
Well, fuck them both. Instead of readying himself for bed like Dean ordered, he strolled around to the house.
Some of Louie's crew, including the main driver, were still camped out on the house steps, further proof that Dean was in A's house, so Sam walked up to the stoop and tilted his head at Nicky. "Hey. You wanna come listen to the radio with me?"
"Who-me?" Nicky's Adam's apple jerked as he swallowed hard, his eyes gone wide and round. "Yeah. But…."
"But me no buts, you coming or not?" Sam grinned as he said it, and let a little heat into his eyes. Fuck Dean, he wasn't the only one who could this. Fuck him if he didn’t want Sam, fuck him. He'd find someone who did. Nicky was fine, Nicky was great-perfect.
In the small spare bedroom that they never used, Sam spread Nicky out over the bed, looking him over and comparing him to Sam's standard: his brother. Nicky wasn't as wide, or as muscled, his eyes weren't green and he didn't have freckles, didn't have a wide, warm mouth. His dick was slender, nothing like the hot, thick handful that he knew Dean's was…but it was sleek, hard, and already bubbling up precome just from Sam's hard, assessing stare. Nicky liked it like that, Sam realized. He might not be as experienced as this boy but Sam could see that he was just waiting to cede control to him. Sam had no plans to disappoint him….
* * * * * *
Sam pulled back, wiped his mouth and left pink smears on the back of his hand. He pumped in and out of Nicky, slowly, contemplative, now that he'd come. He listened to the little gasps and chokes that leaked from Nicky as he tried to breathe. Sam stroked his shoulders and watched goose bumps rise in the wake of his hand, the little comma shape the smear of blood formed as Sam's thumb traced around the half-moon mark of his teeth, so pretty against the sun-browned skin of Nicky's shoulder. Nicky shivered, moaned and shivered…"You okay?" Sam asked.
"Unh-yes, yeah. I'm okay-can I? Is it okay--?"
It took Sam a moment to realize that Nicky was asking permission to come, and he laughed. "Sure, you take care of that-wait."
Sam pulled out and Nicky moaned, deep and disappointed when Sam stopped him from jerking off. Sam flipped him face up on the bed, and said, "Now. I want to see."
Nicky flushed an even deeper red but took his dick in hand and started stroking, teeth pressing into his lower lip, stealing glances at Sam from under the thick dark fringe of his hair. Sam sat cross-legged on the end of the bed and stared, taking note. Watching how sweat sprang up on the man's upper lip, how his eyelids dropped and fluttered as his breath got deeper, louder. He watched pearly drops of precome well up and drip onto his stomach, glisten on his hand. The tiny, half-there hitches his hips made as his dick twitched in his grip, and how the slit pouted open and every inch of Nicky quivered towards release. Sam whispered, "Okay, come," and Nicky screamed, low and hoarse and spurt long ropes on his belly, spattered his chest, gasped when a slick blob smacked his chin. He blinked, mouth open and belly heaving trying to inhale and Sam laughed at how confused and surprised he looked.
"You liked that?" Nicky nodded and Sam nodded too. "I don't think we'll do this again, though."
Nicky opened his mouth to-protest, beg, whatever it was Sam didn't care. He leaned forward, all his weight on Nicky's ankles and said, "I ain't gonna argue about this. And I sure don’t wanna hear from anyone else about this."
Nicky shook his head. His eyes said no, no. Never.
"Good. Get dressed, you gotta get out now. Hey-" he stopped Nicky from scrambling off the bed, and looped an arm around his neck. He kissed him, slow and sweet, pressed his mouth against Nicky's cheek and said "-thank you. Thank you, okay?" Sam gazed into Nicky's eyes and smiled and like that, Nicky was Sam's forever-however Sam wanted him.
Sam studied the boy, how he'd gone from being crushed, to being Sam's, in a few little minutes and for very little work. Sam thought that this was interesting and very useful to know, that he could do a thing like that. Sam wove that bit of information into the web of other information spun in his brain; all the little things Sam thought might one day be important to him.
He thought of Assasi in the dark study, sitting behind the big, mahogany desk, planning Sam and Dean's life out and laughed. Thought about heading to the main house's kitchen and bugging Louie into making him a sandwich, maybe some coffee with it. Letting Louie spin his tales of life in the mob before Assasi, and what it was like. "Not better, Puddy, just-different. Things change," Louie'd say, "Things're always changin', tha's life."
Sam slid his feet into his boots and yanked a jacket on. Louie was right, life was all about change. A smart man tried to guide it to his advantage, though. He shut the door and wondered if Dean was done yet, maybe in the kitchen with Louie. He didn't wash up, and left the bed a wrinkled mess.
part 5
TBC