Date: Sat, 26 Nov 2005 12:24:47 -0800
From: Miss Meehan <lilliluthor@hotmail.com>
Subject: The D.W. Hustle - Chapter One

Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are owned and copyrighted by
Warner Bros. Television Production Inc.

Warning: Slash, incest, minor spoilers but not really for Bugs.

Author's Note: I couldn't wait for Backlash to return so I wrote this to
pease myself.

***

"Wait in the car, I'll be right back," Dean had told him.

But curiosity got the better of Sam.  Besides, he'd never really seen his
brother the pool hustler in action, so he waited a few seconds and followed
him inside.  Sam figured Dean must have been pretty good at the game
because wherever they stopped Dean always managed to walk away with a
couple of hundred dollars.  Just enough for a few meals in the next greasy
spoon they ate in, a couple of nights in a fleabag motel and if Sam were
lucky and Dean was in a good mood, a CD Sam wanted to listen to instead of
the antiquated rock music of his older brother.

Sometimes, when Dean was running a scam during daylight hours, he would
send Sam to the local Laundromat to wash the grit and grime of being on the
road out of the few clothes they possessed. When Dean was really on top of
his game, he'd treat Sam to a shopping spree at the mall. Sam was well
aware that his big brother's refusal to take him with him while he hustled
the locals was Dean's own way of trying to protect him.

As Sam entered the bar he scanned the premises hoping to spy out Dean first
before he saw him.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw the blond head of
his brother heading through a backdoor of the bar. A couple of biker types
were following behind him.  Frightened the Dean had finally hustled the
wrong guys; Sam scurried out the bar and grabbing a handgun out of the
trunk of Dean's vintage car, headed toward the alley to rescue his brother.

Turning the corner like every TV detective he'd ever seen, Sam held the gun
almost eye level as he plastered himself against the wall and listened for
his brother's possible assailants.  Sam slithered down the murky alley
using garbage bins to duck behind as he followed the grunts and groans of
what seemed to be his brother being punished for his misdeeds.  As he stuck
his head around the dirty brick wall that led directly behind the bar he
nearly dropped his piece.

Four or five men stood lined up with money in hand and there was his
brother's blond head bobbing back and forth on the dick of one of the
grimy, beer-bellied, scraggly-haired men he'd seen his brother leave with.
Sam wasn't sure what to do.  Was Dean being forced?  Part of Sam was
frightened for himself. What if he went to help his brother and ended up on
his knees himself or worst.

It wasn't until Dean tucked the sated man back into his jeans, pulled the
trial size bottle of scope he always kept in his jacket pocket, swished and
spit into the can next to him that Sam realized his brother was in complete
control.  Still, Sam drew closer just in case.  The next gentleman if he
could be called that, step forward.  Dean took his money and counted it
before he began.

He rubbed the crotch of the man's pants and uttered words Sam couldn't
hear.  All he heard was the gruff voice of the man pant out "Fuck yeah,"
and Dean released the swollen shaft from its confines and gripping it in
his fist, stroked it back and forth a few times before taking it in his
mouth.

Sam loosened his grip on the gun and absently stroked himself with his free
hand.  He watched with fascination through the floppy brunette bangs the
threatened to obscure his vision as his brother's pink lips expertly worked
the hardened rod. The younger Winchester's breathing became harsh and the
grip on the gun in his right hand was so tight he thought he'd shoot any
minute.  He stopped just long enough to put the safety on and place the
weapon in the back of his waistband.  He convinced himself if Dean was in
trouble he could still draw and shoot in time.

Sam crept forward as close as he dared and watched his brother finish off
the man before him before repeating his actions of gargling and calling
forth his next patron.  By the time Dean had gotten to the last man, Sam
had himself out and was stroking his own cock furiously.  He let his eyes
slip closed for half a minute and imagined his brother's beautiful mouth
working his cock. Sam turned to the cold brick wall behind him and placed
his free hand on it.  Bending his head, he watched his own hand working his
rod as he listened to the groans of satisfied men and the slurping sounds
of the mouth that was giving them pleasure. He felt his balls tighten and
squeezed his eyes shut as the inevitable took place.  He blew his load
against the bin that gave him cover from the activities a few yards
away. He bit his lip and refrained from calling his brother's name out
loud. Wiping himself off with a tissue he had in his pocket and discarding
it in the bin, he slipped out of the alley way and back to the car tucking
himself back in his jeans as he went.

Sam struck as casual a pose as a guy can after witnessing his brother give
head and getting turned on by it.  Dean came out the bar waving cash.

"You must be very good at hustling...pool," Sam added quickly.

Dean nodded and got in the car.

"Maybe one day you'll teach me," Sam said, watching his brother out of the
corner of his eye.

Sam shivered when his older brother looked him over once and with a lustful
grin whispered, "It would be my pleasure."