SpN: Non Timebo Mala, 11/?
11/30/09 10:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: Non Timebo Mala
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean/OMCs, Sam/OMCs, Dean/Sam
Rating: R (hard R?)
Word Count: 2849
Spoilers: might be considered spoilery for All Hell Breaks Loose
Summary: Sam Winchester is looking for the ultimate weapon, one that will destroy the demon who destroyed his family. Dean Kane was raised to be a maker of weapons. He was just the man Sam needed.
Notes/Warnings: This is my AU version of the Colt's making. Increeeedibly AU. It's completely a child of my wild imaginings. Warnings for sex ( brief het and M/M, incest, rape.) Sections will have individual warnings.
"I should have taken my chance earlier. God, I'll be thinking about you forever," Jan sighed. "You take care of yourself. Dean," he said and his lips traced Dean's cheek, his neck—a moment later, he ran out of the yard.
Dean felt sick with excitement, with dread. What happened? How was it that Jan had made him feel so much more than Anne had? What did it mean…why him? What he was feeling was wrong, and bad, and…he wanted more awfully bad.
The streets were busy, an influx of strangers that made folks wonder at the strangeness of it. Bristol was a small town, small enough that if a new dog turned up, people talked for days. People had plenty to talk about now.
They weren't staying, the strangers. They drifted into, and out of, the town. Seemed like daily some new face was seen in the shops, a new group on the move through the streets. Seemed Bristol was sitting in the way to somewhere those strangers wanted to be, but no one had ever wanted to be anywhere Bristol was close to before now. They wandered about town, eyeing the lead grey skies and the wet flakes swirling down from time to time—a trial run for winter, nothing serious yet, but purpose was in it. They might not be from the area, but they were smart enough not to want to be stuck in Bristol for the winter.
"Okay. I'm going to pick up a few things at the general, we 'bout out of flour, and someone's sweet tooth has run amok through our molasses, can't imagine who…"
Dean grinned, still as unrepentant ever. "And if they got some peppermint sticks…"
"Lord, why don’t I just open up the front door and chuck my money out on the street? Go do something. Here." Tobe handed Dean a couple of dollars, and waved his thanks off. "It's your money too, boy." He suddenly turned a deep rosy red and fidgeted like a kid—that was odd enough to be startling. He dug divots in the street's mud with his boot heel. Looked off in a direction not Dean's and jerked his beard towards the saloon. He took a deep breath and said, "There's um…there's some rooms behind the place there. Er…Ladies. Girls. Working girls…I mean…boy, go over there and sit with Mr. Waller 'til I get back."
Tobe stomped off down the street towards the general store, the ends of his scarf flapping behind him. Dean just stood in the middle of the street until a wagon chased him off to the side. "What the hell…" He scratched his head. Did Pa really try to steer him towards a cat house? Dean sighed and hoped sincerely that he hadn't because that'd be turning over a rock he'd hoped to leave untouched.
Mr. Waller waved from his perch in front of the barber shop, cigarette fixings in his lap. Mr. Waller had been sitting in front of that shop since Dean was four years old. Dean wasn't even sure if the man had a home, or if he just…sat. No matter the weather, Waller sat at his post, rain, shine, snow, and one memorable occasion, flood, but Dean never brought that up. Waller'd never come to find that funny.
He peered at Dean, and waved a hand. "Sit down here Dean, have one with me."
"Pa don’t like it when I smoke, how you doing today, Mr. Waller?"
"Fine and your pa don’t like anything. That's a joyless man, that Tobe Kane. Priggish as a maiden aunt, and a sight less fun." Mr. Waller was Dean's favorite. He'd never treated Dean as anything less than whole, unlike the most of the town, and never treated Tobe as any less than a man. He was the only one outside the two of them who referred to Tobe as Dean's pa.
Waller rolled a cigarette, wrinkled fingers still agile; he rolled tobacco filled paper across his knee into a thin tube, whipped his tongue along the edge, and poked a bit of the paper into one end, quick made another, handed it off to Dean. "There you go." He popped a sulfur match into life against the bottom of his boot, inhaled with a grateful sigh, Dean following suit. They were both quiet for a minute or two, savoring the smoke and Waller said, "You know your pa knows you sit and smoke with me."
"Yeah…but if we don’t talk about it it's not happening." He grinned until his words caught up with him, and the grin faded…there was a lot he wasn't talking to Pa about lately….
He smoked a little more, his eyes tracking the crowd idly, until he blinked, realized he'd been following the comings and going of one drover in particular without noticing, and now…he saw the drover had noticed him. He tilted his hat towards Dean with a little smirk, and walked on down the street towards the saloon. Dean shivered, frowned, and stared at the porch boards.
"Say, ain't that yer pa down there?"
Dean looked back towards the general, and Tobe was standing by the wagon, talking—arguing?—with a stranger. The man was tall, broad, wearing a long yellow duster, a top hat that had seen better days by far. A scarf like the one Tobe wore was wrapped around his neck, around and around, as if the darn thing were ten feet long. Dean started when Tobe backed away from him, hands up, face turned away. His posture said he wanted to run or protect himself, and Dean jumped to his feet—but then Tobe was nodding, and the man stepped back and inclined his head respectfully—
It was odd, Dean was struck by the oddness of the whole thing, and something about the two men and how they acted held him back from jumping off the porch to meet Tobe.
A minute later, Tobe had his foot up on the porch step, looking tired, and irritable. "Dean…Waller." He jerked his beard towards the old man, who jerked his chin in reply.
"Kane." They stared at each other with narrowed eyes and ferocious frowns.
"You teaching my boy disreputable things?"
"I'm teaching the boy to have some fun, ya tight-assed old woman."
Tobe looked at Dean. "See this—" he cut his eyes at Waller. "That's what you call a bad example. You just watch everything Waller does, and don’t do any of it and you'll be good."
Waller grinned at Dean, showing off a precious few teeth and said, "Watch me, an' I'll teach ya proper to have fun."
Tobe's mouth twitched as he fought to maintain the spectacular frown he wore, and Waller laughed around the butt end of his cigarette. "I like talking to you, Kane. You the only man makes sense in these parts."
"You're a crazy old white man," Tobe said and Waller laughed aloud.
"I am that, son. Ya'll have a good day now."
Tobe's laughter faded quickly as he led Dean off down the back street behind the saloon. Dean swallowed nervously. "Pa…" Tobe had something on his mind, and it sure wasn't a good thing, Dean thought.
"Listen boy, summer past, I realized I taught you a lot of things—still got more to learn--but some parts of your education are lacking. I didn't teach you anything about the natural course of things. It's way overdue and we're going to take care of that today. Because…because I'm…you and Anne didn't…there wasn't….oh my, here we are…" Relief radiated from the man, he clamped his lips together. He stared at his boot toes and nudged Dean up on a small porch set in the back of the saloon. He knocked at the door, keeping his eyes down. When the door opened, he said, "Here's my—Dean. You take care of him like we discussed, ma'am?"
He snatched his hat off and rolled the brim in his hand savagely—completely at odds with his humble-seeming attitude. It always was hard for Tobe to lower himself like expected. Dean clamped his teeth together hard and silently worked his way through a bit of Latin: De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine, 'Out of the depths I have cried to Thee, O Lord'. It helped some, when Tobe had to be...less.
The woman at the door looked the two of them over, her mouth in a wide smile, amusement in her eyes. "'Course I remember us talking about that. We'll take care of him nicely, Tobey. My girl's will treat him right, don’t worry about that. Ya'll want to come in Dean?" She said it slow and careful, and Dean shot a glare at Tobe that should have made a roman candle of him, and Tobe had the nerve, the *gall*, to smirk into his beard.
"Go on Dean, you'll be okay. Remember, it's all been paid for, don’t give up a penny more." He turned on his heels and--*fled* was the only way to describe it. There he goes, Dean thought, the man who's supposed to love me, dropping me at the door step of suspect strangers…he was working up a fine stew of self-pity, when he noticed the woman looked him up and down with an expression of surprise and…a sticky kind of look Dean was coming to recognize. It made him uncomfortable most times…this was certainly one of those times.
***
She had him come up a narrow set of stairs and at the top of the stairs was a sitting room, and at one end of the sitting room, the door to a dark hallway. A few women lounged around, sitting with men on the couches. Some wore suits, some were cowboys, some were heading towards drunk. The women were dressed nicely, which surprised Dean. He'd assumed they'd be a lot less…dressed. But they wore fine clothing, all lace and velvet, with their hair rolled and primped, pink lips and rosy cheeks and black-lashed eyes…much finer than the rough planking walls and smoky lanterns smelling of burning fat had led him to expect.
They showed themselves off and looked bored, amused, tired…Dean gazed about at the variety of woman-hood, the flash of ankle and neck and arm and felt mostly confused, mostly alone and wishing he could grab Tobe by his collar and tell him in no uncertain terms why this was a bad, bad thing.
He slipped into one corner, hanging back and hoping not to be noticed. Under the light of a red shaded lamp, a skinny man with a mustache wider than his head played a piano. He was decent, managed to make a lively tune ring out of it, but it wasn't quite loud enough to block out some very…odd noises. Dean blushed. Forget talking--he was straight going to kill Tobe when he got out of this place. He edged back to the stairway, figured one good sprint out and he'd walk back home before he got in the buckboard with that man. What in the hell possessed him to do this to—
"Here you go hon; Dotty here is the girl we send to work with beginners."
Beginner? Dean blushed again, ground his teeth, and swore; there'd be a nice big horse-apple in a certain someone's bed tonight. "I—this is a mistake, I—"
Dotty laughed, and dragged him back to her room.
***
"Now, sweetheart, don't let it worry you. Most boys first time don't even make it to takin' their clothes off before spillin' all over…"
Dean sat hunched on the bed. "Well, that's not really my problem is it?" He sighed. It had been…enlightening in an awful sort of way. He was limp as a dishrag and dying of embarrassment.
"You're too nervous, that's all. Lay back and let me help." Dean lay back against the pillows and tried not to imagine how many strangers had had their heads there, or their boots propped against the footboard of her bed. Dotty slid up over him, her petticoats pulled up to her thighs. When she straddled them, his prick gave a weak kind of twitch. She leaned forward, and took it in her hand. "It's a pretty one," she said, and pushed skin back until the head peaked out, and he twitched again. "There, see?" And she pumped him again. His prick kind of half-heartedly lurched to hardness, and to his horror, Dean found it helped if he thought about Jan, and that last kiss….
"Oooh, there you go, told you it was just nerves." Her small hand pushed up and down until he was fully hard, and the rosy head of his prick was naked and wet. He pried an eyelid open, and looked at himself. He was hard, blushed dark with blood. He twitched when her breath swept over the sensitive head, and it was the first time someone other than himself had seen him this way. Had touched him. She looked up from under her lashes at him and smirked. She pressed a delicate kiss to the head and his hips rocked up off the bed. Air left his lungs like they were never going to fill again—and then he yawped more air back in when the hot tip of her tongue drew a quick circle round the wet slit—
"SHIT." He dropped back to the bed and shuddered, hoped she was going to do that again. Could he ask her, was that included in the price—her mouth surrounded him, all hot and wet and silky smooth on the inside, clinging to his prick like satin, her tongue washing the head, driving him higher and higher. He snatched up handfuls of sheets and threw his legs wide. In his mind's eye, it was Jan's lips nibbling softly at the tip, his hands rolling his balls—the face changed and it was the drover from earlier dropping his pants and jerking himself roughly, promising Dean he was going to make him come like nobody's business. "Oh God, yes, please do that, do that more—"
Dotty made a pleased little sound and let him drop from her mouth.
"No—please don’t stop," Dean moaned, he shook until she laid her hand in the middle of his chest and pressed. He stilled instantly, a wave of heat crowding through him that felt as if it started in the back of his head and shot down his spine. She pressed harder and he moaned and wished she were stronger, bigger….
She worked a condom down on him and almost before he could figure out just was about to happen, she was on him---he was in her.
It wasn't what he'd expected, but she seemed to like it fine. She rode him with her back to him, which he kind of appreciated—he couldn't bear to look at her face. Her riding him…it was almost as good as her mouth but…he squeezed his eyes shut and imagined hard that it was, maybe it was the drover, but how…and then she squeezed his balls a little, went lower and made the stars come out. She rolled and rubbed the tip of her finger against his hole, pushed into him….
He screamed when he came, too out of it to hold anything back—bucked up into her over and over until it almost hurt. He collapsed into a witless hulk; moaning and trembling…wondered if there was any way he could get her to do that again without touching anything else.
***
He was spread-eagled on her bed, trying to get his breath back, fumbling his way through trying to thank her. She waved it off. "All the thanks I need are folded up on the dresser, honey. At least I won't have to worry about *you* following me 'round like a love-sick pup," she said, and slid off the bed. She grabbed a pitcher of water and poured it into a basin on a stand by the bed. She hitched up her petticoats and washed, rinsed out the rag and handed to Dean. "Take it off and wipe up,hon, that's a good boy." She ignored Dean's unhappy grimace, and shrugged into a purple satin robe. "Some times the virgins confuse coming with falling in love. You, I see, I don't have to worry about."
She took the condom from Dean, tossed it in the sink bowl and winked at him. "Had a feeling when you came in. Don't worry, ain't my business. But sugar, that Sam's a lucky so-and-so."
He blinked at her. Sam? His mouth popped open without thought. "I don’t know any Sam—Jan. Was thinking about him. I mean—" Dean slammed his mouth shut and blushed from head to toe. His stomach flipped and burned, he whispered hoarsely, "Don't--"
She laughed. "I wouldn't, 'sides you ain't the first. But I have to tell you, you were awfully sweet and I sure enjoyed it. And anytime you come in town and you feel the need, you come ask after me." She patted his thigh. "I don’t mind, and you can call me anything you want."
He stared into his knees, and nodded, afraid to look into her face. Afraid that her easy acceptance might just be a lie, or the beginning of a mean trick. Still, he felt better, in a horrible kind of way. At least he could tell Tobe that he'd learned all the lessons to be taught about that subject and have it be true…but better yet, maybe they could just not talk about it at all ever, ever, *ever* and just take this quietly to their graves. Spare them both the god-awful embarrassment….
part 12
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean/OMCs, Sam/OMCs, Dean/Sam
Rating: R (hard R?)
Word Count: 2849
Spoilers: might be considered spoilery for All Hell Breaks Loose
Summary: Sam Winchester is looking for the ultimate weapon, one that will destroy the demon who destroyed his family. Dean Kane was raised to be a maker of weapons. He was just the man Sam needed.
Notes/Warnings: This is my AU version of the Colt's making. Increeeedibly AU. It's completely a child of my wild imaginings. Warnings for sex ( brief het and M/M, incest, rape.) Sections will have individual warnings.
"I should have taken my chance earlier. God, I'll be thinking about you forever," Jan sighed. "You take care of yourself. Dean," he said and his lips traced Dean's cheek, his neck—a moment later, he ran out of the yard.
Dean felt sick with excitement, with dread. What happened? How was it that Jan had made him feel so much more than Anne had? What did it mean…why him? What he was feeling was wrong, and bad, and…he wanted more awfully bad.
The streets were busy, an influx of strangers that made folks wonder at the strangeness of it. Bristol was a small town, small enough that if a new dog turned up, people talked for days. People had plenty to talk about now.
They weren't staying, the strangers. They drifted into, and out of, the town. Seemed like daily some new face was seen in the shops, a new group on the move through the streets. Seemed Bristol was sitting in the way to somewhere those strangers wanted to be, but no one had ever wanted to be anywhere Bristol was close to before now. They wandered about town, eyeing the lead grey skies and the wet flakes swirling down from time to time—a trial run for winter, nothing serious yet, but purpose was in it. They might not be from the area, but they were smart enough not to want to be stuck in Bristol for the winter.
"Okay. I'm going to pick up a few things at the general, we 'bout out of flour, and someone's sweet tooth has run amok through our molasses, can't imagine who…"
Dean grinned, still as unrepentant ever. "And if they got some peppermint sticks…"
"Lord, why don’t I just open up the front door and chuck my money out on the street? Go do something. Here." Tobe handed Dean a couple of dollars, and waved his thanks off. "It's your money too, boy." He suddenly turned a deep rosy red and fidgeted like a kid—that was odd enough to be startling. He dug divots in the street's mud with his boot heel. Looked off in a direction not Dean's and jerked his beard towards the saloon. He took a deep breath and said, "There's um…there's some rooms behind the place there. Er…Ladies. Girls. Working girls…I mean…boy, go over there and sit with Mr. Waller 'til I get back."
Tobe stomped off down the street towards the general store, the ends of his scarf flapping behind him. Dean just stood in the middle of the street until a wagon chased him off to the side. "What the hell…" He scratched his head. Did Pa really try to steer him towards a cat house? Dean sighed and hoped sincerely that he hadn't because that'd be turning over a rock he'd hoped to leave untouched.
Mr. Waller waved from his perch in front of the barber shop, cigarette fixings in his lap. Mr. Waller had been sitting in front of that shop since Dean was four years old. Dean wasn't even sure if the man had a home, or if he just…sat. No matter the weather, Waller sat at his post, rain, shine, snow, and one memorable occasion, flood, but Dean never brought that up. Waller'd never come to find that funny.
He peered at Dean, and waved a hand. "Sit down here Dean, have one with me."
"Pa don’t like it when I smoke, how you doing today, Mr. Waller?"
"Fine and your pa don’t like anything. That's a joyless man, that Tobe Kane. Priggish as a maiden aunt, and a sight less fun." Mr. Waller was Dean's favorite. He'd never treated Dean as anything less than whole, unlike the most of the town, and never treated Tobe as any less than a man. He was the only one outside the two of them who referred to Tobe as Dean's pa.
Waller rolled a cigarette, wrinkled fingers still agile; he rolled tobacco filled paper across his knee into a thin tube, whipped his tongue along the edge, and poked a bit of the paper into one end, quick made another, handed it off to Dean. "There you go." He popped a sulfur match into life against the bottom of his boot, inhaled with a grateful sigh, Dean following suit. They were both quiet for a minute or two, savoring the smoke and Waller said, "You know your pa knows you sit and smoke with me."
"Yeah…but if we don’t talk about it it's not happening." He grinned until his words caught up with him, and the grin faded…there was a lot he wasn't talking to Pa about lately….
He smoked a little more, his eyes tracking the crowd idly, until he blinked, realized he'd been following the comings and going of one drover in particular without noticing, and now…he saw the drover had noticed him. He tilted his hat towards Dean with a little smirk, and walked on down the street towards the saloon. Dean shivered, frowned, and stared at the porch boards.
"Say, ain't that yer pa down there?"
Dean looked back towards the general, and Tobe was standing by the wagon, talking—arguing?—with a stranger. The man was tall, broad, wearing a long yellow duster, a top hat that had seen better days by far. A scarf like the one Tobe wore was wrapped around his neck, around and around, as if the darn thing were ten feet long. Dean started when Tobe backed away from him, hands up, face turned away. His posture said he wanted to run or protect himself, and Dean jumped to his feet—but then Tobe was nodding, and the man stepped back and inclined his head respectfully—
It was odd, Dean was struck by the oddness of the whole thing, and something about the two men and how they acted held him back from jumping off the porch to meet Tobe.
A minute later, Tobe had his foot up on the porch step, looking tired, and irritable. "Dean…Waller." He jerked his beard towards the old man, who jerked his chin in reply.
"Kane." They stared at each other with narrowed eyes and ferocious frowns.
"You teaching my boy disreputable things?"
"I'm teaching the boy to have some fun, ya tight-assed old woman."
Tobe looked at Dean. "See this—" he cut his eyes at Waller. "That's what you call a bad example. You just watch everything Waller does, and don’t do any of it and you'll be good."
Waller grinned at Dean, showing off a precious few teeth and said, "Watch me, an' I'll teach ya proper to have fun."
Tobe's mouth twitched as he fought to maintain the spectacular frown he wore, and Waller laughed around the butt end of his cigarette. "I like talking to you, Kane. You the only man makes sense in these parts."
"You're a crazy old white man," Tobe said and Waller laughed aloud.
"I am that, son. Ya'll have a good day now."
Tobe's laughter faded quickly as he led Dean off down the back street behind the saloon. Dean swallowed nervously. "Pa…" Tobe had something on his mind, and it sure wasn't a good thing, Dean thought.
"Listen boy, summer past, I realized I taught you a lot of things—still got more to learn--but some parts of your education are lacking. I didn't teach you anything about the natural course of things. It's way overdue and we're going to take care of that today. Because…because I'm…you and Anne didn't…there wasn't….oh my, here we are…" Relief radiated from the man, he clamped his lips together. He stared at his boot toes and nudged Dean up on a small porch set in the back of the saloon. He knocked at the door, keeping his eyes down. When the door opened, he said, "Here's my—Dean. You take care of him like we discussed, ma'am?"
He snatched his hat off and rolled the brim in his hand savagely—completely at odds with his humble-seeming attitude. It always was hard for Tobe to lower himself like expected. Dean clamped his teeth together hard and silently worked his way through a bit of Latin: De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine, 'Out of the depths I have cried to Thee, O Lord'. It helped some, when Tobe had to be...less.
The woman at the door looked the two of them over, her mouth in a wide smile, amusement in her eyes. "'Course I remember us talking about that. We'll take care of him nicely, Tobey. My girl's will treat him right, don’t worry about that. Ya'll want to come in Dean?" She said it slow and careful, and Dean shot a glare at Tobe that should have made a roman candle of him, and Tobe had the nerve, the *gall*, to smirk into his beard.
"Go on Dean, you'll be okay. Remember, it's all been paid for, don’t give up a penny more." He turned on his heels and--*fled* was the only way to describe it. There he goes, Dean thought, the man who's supposed to love me, dropping me at the door step of suspect strangers…he was working up a fine stew of self-pity, when he noticed the woman looked him up and down with an expression of surprise and…a sticky kind of look Dean was coming to recognize. It made him uncomfortable most times…this was certainly one of those times.
She had him come up a narrow set of stairs and at the top of the stairs was a sitting room, and at one end of the sitting room, the door to a dark hallway. A few women lounged around, sitting with men on the couches. Some wore suits, some were cowboys, some were heading towards drunk. The women were dressed nicely, which surprised Dean. He'd assumed they'd be a lot less…dressed. But they wore fine clothing, all lace and velvet, with their hair rolled and primped, pink lips and rosy cheeks and black-lashed eyes…much finer than the rough planking walls and smoky lanterns smelling of burning fat had led him to expect.
They showed themselves off and looked bored, amused, tired…Dean gazed about at the variety of woman-hood, the flash of ankle and neck and arm and felt mostly confused, mostly alone and wishing he could grab Tobe by his collar and tell him in no uncertain terms why this was a bad, bad thing.
He slipped into one corner, hanging back and hoping not to be noticed. Under the light of a red shaded lamp, a skinny man with a mustache wider than his head played a piano. He was decent, managed to make a lively tune ring out of it, but it wasn't quite loud enough to block out some very…odd noises. Dean blushed. Forget talking--he was straight going to kill Tobe when he got out of this place. He edged back to the stairway, figured one good sprint out and he'd walk back home before he got in the buckboard with that man. What in the hell possessed him to do this to—
"Here you go hon; Dotty here is the girl we send to work with beginners."
Beginner? Dean blushed again, ground his teeth, and swore; there'd be a nice big horse-apple in a certain someone's bed tonight. "I—this is a mistake, I—"
Dotty laughed, and dragged him back to her room.
"Now, sweetheart, don't let it worry you. Most boys first time don't even make it to takin' their clothes off before spillin' all over…"
Dean sat hunched on the bed. "Well, that's not really my problem is it?" He sighed. It had been…enlightening in an awful sort of way. He was limp as a dishrag and dying of embarrassment.
"You're too nervous, that's all. Lay back and let me help." Dean lay back against the pillows and tried not to imagine how many strangers had had their heads there, or their boots propped against the footboard of her bed. Dotty slid up over him, her petticoats pulled up to her thighs. When she straddled them, his prick gave a weak kind of twitch. She leaned forward, and took it in her hand. "It's a pretty one," she said, and pushed skin back until the head peaked out, and he twitched again. "There, see?" And she pumped him again. His prick kind of half-heartedly lurched to hardness, and to his horror, Dean found it helped if he thought about Jan, and that last kiss….
"Oooh, there you go, told you it was just nerves." Her small hand pushed up and down until he was fully hard, and the rosy head of his prick was naked and wet. He pried an eyelid open, and looked at himself. He was hard, blushed dark with blood. He twitched when her breath swept over the sensitive head, and it was the first time someone other than himself had seen him this way. Had touched him. She looked up from under her lashes at him and smirked. She pressed a delicate kiss to the head and his hips rocked up off the bed. Air left his lungs like they were never going to fill again—and then he yawped more air back in when the hot tip of her tongue drew a quick circle round the wet slit—
"SHIT." He dropped back to the bed and shuddered, hoped she was going to do that again. Could he ask her, was that included in the price—her mouth surrounded him, all hot and wet and silky smooth on the inside, clinging to his prick like satin, her tongue washing the head, driving him higher and higher. He snatched up handfuls of sheets and threw his legs wide. In his mind's eye, it was Jan's lips nibbling softly at the tip, his hands rolling his balls—the face changed and it was the drover from earlier dropping his pants and jerking himself roughly, promising Dean he was going to make him come like nobody's business. "Oh God, yes, please do that, do that more—"
Dotty made a pleased little sound and let him drop from her mouth.
"No—please don’t stop," Dean moaned, he shook until she laid her hand in the middle of his chest and pressed. He stilled instantly, a wave of heat crowding through him that felt as if it started in the back of his head and shot down his spine. She pressed harder and he moaned and wished she were stronger, bigger….
She worked a condom down on him and almost before he could figure out just was about to happen, she was on him---he was in her.
It wasn't what he'd expected, but she seemed to like it fine. She rode him with her back to him, which he kind of appreciated—he couldn't bear to look at her face. Her riding him…it was almost as good as her mouth but…he squeezed his eyes shut and imagined hard that it was, maybe it was the drover, but how…and then she squeezed his balls a little, went lower and made the stars come out. She rolled and rubbed the tip of her finger against his hole, pushed into him….
He screamed when he came, too out of it to hold anything back—bucked up into her over and over until it almost hurt. He collapsed into a witless hulk; moaning and trembling…wondered if there was any way he could get her to do that again without touching anything else.
He was spread-eagled on her bed, trying to get his breath back, fumbling his way through trying to thank her. She waved it off. "All the thanks I need are folded up on the dresser, honey. At least I won't have to worry about *you* following me 'round like a love-sick pup," she said, and slid off the bed. She grabbed a pitcher of water and poured it into a basin on a stand by the bed. She hitched up her petticoats and washed, rinsed out the rag and handed to Dean. "Take it off and wipe up,hon, that's a good boy." She ignored Dean's unhappy grimace, and shrugged into a purple satin robe. "Some times the virgins confuse coming with falling in love. You, I see, I don't have to worry about."
She took the condom from Dean, tossed it in the sink bowl and winked at him. "Had a feeling when you came in. Don't worry, ain't my business. But sugar, that Sam's a lucky so-and-so."
He blinked at her. Sam? His mouth popped open without thought. "I don’t know any Sam—Jan. Was thinking about him. I mean—" Dean slammed his mouth shut and blushed from head to toe. His stomach flipped and burned, he whispered hoarsely, "Don't--"
She laughed. "I wouldn't, 'sides you ain't the first. But I have to tell you, you were awfully sweet and I sure enjoyed it. And anytime you come in town and you feel the need, you come ask after me." She patted his thigh. "I don’t mind, and you can call me anything you want."
He stared into his knees, and nodded, afraid to look into her face. Afraid that her easy acceptance might just be a lie, or the beginning of a mean trick. Still, he felt better, in a horrible kind of way. At least he could tell Tobe that he'd learned all the lessons to be taught about that subject and have it be true…but better yet, maybe they could just not talk about it at all ever, ever, *ever* and just take this quietly to their graves. Spare them both the god-awful embarrassment….
part 12
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(no subject)
12/1/09 04:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/1/09 05:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/1/09 01:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/1/09 05:26 am (UTC)Poor Dean! Heeeeee. And Tobe, just all *flail*.
*snickers*
I loved Waller and Dean, too - excellent. Good stuff, as always!
*twirls you*
(no subject)
12/1/09 01:27 pm (UTC)I'm glad you had fun reading it!!
(no subject)
12/1/09 06:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/1/09 01:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/1/09 08:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/1/09 01:30 pm (UTC)Sad and cute...that's it exactly! :)
(no subject)
12/2/09 07:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/10/09 03:44 pm (UTC)Oh, for sure! A body doesn't have to be evil to scar the hell out of someone. People do wrong things all the time, thinking that it's for the good.
The moment where Tobe has to pretend to be 'less' with the madam truly HURTS, as it should
Thank you!! I'm so glad that made an impression! I'm not being historically accurate here (of course!) but times were what they were, and it wasn't easy in those days. Plus, it explains *Dean's* isolation.
(no subject)
12/7/09 08:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/10/09 03:45 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for reading!
(no subject)
12/9/09 09:53 pm (UTC)Clueless!Dean is so adorkable and Dotty's gaydar was turned on high, I see. And him calling out for Sam just breaks my heart, melts it, and remolds it back together! Delicious scenes here. (Where's the meet, though? *whines* Oh, you're so meant to make us wait like this. . . )
(no subject)
12/10/09 03:47 pm (UTC)