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Whore	By : ixtab Category: Supernatural > Het - Male/Female Views: 4961 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Whore
- 1
Whore

Dean swallows nervously, and wonders if he looks as young as
he is. 17 years old, and so fucking desperate for it. No one tells you that
once you had sex, the urges actually get more intense. But he�s stuck in this
little country town, half full of redneck girls who don�t go for boys his age,
and half full of good girls who won�t go at all. And it�s burning him up.

Is it so wrong, that I just want to fuck? He asks himself as
he waits in the anonymous, grey motel room, listening to the shower bounce off
of skin through the paper thin wall separating the bathroom and the bed. He
can�t really believe that he�s going to go through with this. But he�s got five
twenties burning a hole in his pocket; he went up to the girl on the street and
had asked her flat out, not stuttering or blushing. As he waits for the girl to
get out of the shower, he amuses himself with the thought of little Sammy
picking up a whore, and it just doesn�t fly. Sam�s a whole other thing, so
goddamn wholesome. And he doesn�t belong here, in Dean�s head, which is a
veritable pit of filth. He�s tapping his fingers on the hole in his well worn
jeans, fiddling with the fraying edges as the girl walks out, toweling her damp
dyed brunette hair. She�s a little skinnier than Dean likes, a few too many
bones visible, but she�s got a wide, friendly smile, and a way of walking that
says she knows she is attractive. And Dean loves confidence, even when he can�t
seem to grab onto it himself.
There�s another thing Sam has over him, because his baby
brother can�t seem to stop being an overconfident self important little twerp,
demanding justification for the life they led, rather than just going with the
flow. But that�s the second time thoughts of Sam have intruded so Dean banishes
his brother from his brain, and turns his attention to the task at hand.

�So, got anything in mind, or is this your first time?� She asks
indulgently, and Dean suppresses his first snappy response.
�Uh, yeah, I�ve got something in mind, if you, you know�.�
He trails off, cursing his awkwardness, and she just smiles harder.
�I can�t say yes if you don�t tell me, sweetie.� He rolls
his eyes at that, and then just comes straight out with it. He isn�t some inexperienced
teenager, too unlucky in love to do anything but buy a woman. He�s a hunter, a
dangerous man, and he�s been with plenty of girls. This isn�t any different. This
is just straight to the point.
�I want to lick you. Taste you.� He says steadily, and
surprises a blush out of the girl, who nods assent silently. They lay down
together.

It�s been twenty minutes since Dean entered this room, and
he�s got a woman, with her legs splayed upon the bed. He grins to himself. Life
is good. He strokes the shaven, outer lips of her cunt, then gently slides a
finger down, trying to see the paler pink hidden within. The girl shudders
silently when he almost accidentally brushes against her clitoris. He grins
harder, and kisses her there, lightning fast, just to watch her jump. All the
porn, the sex ed never mentions the softness, the taste, the scent of women,
and Dean has never found the right words for it, except something approaching
love. And he does. He loves the way this whore moans through gritted teeth as
he falls upon here, tongue stabbing in as deep as he can get it. He teases with
soft bursts of air, pulling back til his touch is more like a memory, then
plunging fingers deep inside of her, as his mouth caresses her clit. He likes
the way tremors shake her thighs, the way her breath hitches, as he gently
crooks two fingers inside of her, and her inner muscles clamp down on them. He
laughs softly, his own painfully erect cock ignored, rubbing in his jeans. The
girl turns her face into the pillow, and begins to shake as he stops playing
around and concentrates on bringing her to orgasm. He loses himself in the sensation;
his world narrows down to consist of this girl�s cunt and nothing else. He
barely notices his own climax, because the whore is reaches, and he can�t help
but feel smug. He loves bringing women off, the way they curl their toes, they
swear, shiver, bite their lips, yell, and scratch. This girl is quiet, but she
can�t stop shaking, and Dean moves up the bed to hold her, until the shaking
subsides.
They are both silent.

Afterwards, Dean grimaces at the mess in his favourite pair
of jeans, wipes himself down with a face cloth, and hands the money over to the
girl. She�s dressed again, looking slightly glassy eyed, but business has been
conducted.
�You know, you never even asked my name.� She says quietly,
and Dean feels annoyed. Whilst they�d had sex, he�d had crazy love-lust
thoughts about her, but now he felt a little dirty, and a desire to get out of
here.
�Well, you are a whore. I guess I figured it didn�t matter.�
He replies, but regrets the harsh words as they leave his mouth. The girl
flushes and glares at him.
�Everybody�s somebody�s whore, asshole.� She says, then
pushes him out of the door and slams it shut in his face.
He considers knocking and apologizing, or having an
argument, for a split second, but then shrugs, and trudges home.

When he gets back to the beat up shack that his Dad�s rented
out as temporary housing for them, as he goes off on hunts deemed too dangerous
for Sam, and consequently Dean, he decides not to think about it anymore. It
was a fun experience, but it�s left him feeling dirty, and like a bastard,
which he could do without. He growls to himself as he walks up to the study,
where Sam�s bound to be, buried in a book about something weird. Sam�s the one
with the conscience who worries and thinks, he�s the
jerk who gets the girl, shoots shit, and talks big. And that�s the way it is.

He walks into the study and finds Sam playing his Gameboy,
which their Dad keeps confiscating, and Sam keeps stealing back. Dean places an
affectionate hand on his brother�s head, which causes the younger boy to smile,
then musses it all up, which causes Sam to die in whichever repetitive beeping
game he�s playing, and creates in Sam an urge to beat the ever-loving crap out
of his brother. They wrestle, Sam getting in one or two good jabs at Dean�s
ribs, though finally Dean pins his lanky little brother, smiling inwardly at
the image of Sam, tangled up in his own limbs, which he hasn�t quite got the
hang of, since his most recent growth spurt. Sam calls out uncle, and they head
into the kitchen, to create something resembling food, though Dean�s now
craving strong black coffee.
And he�s almost forgotten the way the girl looked on her
back.

---End
- 1
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