rivers_bend

Title: Five times Dean didn't suck Sam, and one time he did (Part 1/6)
Words: ~2100
Rating: Adult (sexual language/situations)
Genre: Gen and Het (as written by a super-hard-core slasher)
Characters: Sam (13), Dean (17) / OFC.
Spoilers? Pre-series, but tiny spoiler for Something Wicked 1:18
Disclaimer: If I intended to make money off this I'd move to Hollywood and change my name.
A/N: A prequel to my gun verse fics, to explain how Dean came to be so good with his mouth. This was going to be a five things fic, with each part being about 600 words. It didn’t quite work out that way. Writing young Sam and Dean turned out to be too damn much fun. So I'm posting the first two parts now. The next two parts and then the two after that will follow. This is a work in progress, but it will be finished. Thank you to lima_sierra and littledrop for input and beta. And this whole fic is littledrop's fault, as she wanted to know details of Dean learning how to make use of his cock-sucking lips.
Summary: Lindsay Masterson was wearing a white tank top and a black bra the day she asked Dean to the Halloween dance. He figured he'd probably say yes even if he hadn't heard the rumors about her, just cos he liked her taste in underwear.





One
They were in Tacoma the year Dean was seventeen, Sammy at the junior high up the street from their crappy apartment, and Dean at the high school across town. Apparently it was unseasonably warm for the end of October, but Dean had spent October in so many different climates over the years that he didn’t know what was unseasonable and cared even less. It was colder than Alabama, warmer than Wyoming.

It was warm enough that Sammy was okay in his shorts for now, but he'd outgrown his jeans again and was going to need a new pair before the weather cooled off any. He was almost getting tall enough that he could've worn Dean's old pair, except they got shredded by a possessed tree somewhere in Montana.

Lindsay Masterson was wearing a white tank top and a black bra the day she asked Dean to the Halloween dance. He figured he'd probably say yes even if he hadn't heard the rumors about her, just cos he liked her taste in underwear. As soon as he said that he'd go, she asked if he wanted to go on a pre-date date. 'I've got a pick-up truck with a camper shell,' she added, and he figured the rumors were true.

'You bet,' he said, hoping as the words came out that he didn't sound too eager.

'I'll pick you up at eight.'

It was the first time in a while that they'd been staying somewhere that wasn't so far out of town or otherwise freaky looking that it'd scare a girl off, so Dean agreed.

Dad had a lead on something down in Portland, said he'd be a few days, maybe a week. Dean wasn't supposed to leave Sammy alone at night, but he'd been spending a lot of time with the geeky kid on the corner doing some sort of social studies project anyway. The kid's mom loved Sam, and Dean was pretty sure she wouldn't mind if he came over again.

'Honey, I'm home,' Dean called when he opened the door.

'Dinner's ready. Did you have a good day, dear?' Sam was old enough now that he had to pitch his voice to sound like June Cleaver.

'If only that were true. I'm starving.' Dean leaned over the back of the sofa and poked Sam in the ribs. 'Are you going to Kevin's tonight?'

'Devlin. Nah, I thought we could hang out tonight. Terminator's on channel twelve.'

Shit. Why tonight? Terminator was a tradition with them. But Lindsay, and the back of her pick-up… 'I um… kind of have a date tonight.'

'So cancel it. Terminator, man.'

That look on Sam's face was very hard to resist. 'It's a first date. And she's got a pick-up truck with a camper shell. Can't you go to Devlin's tonight and I'll rent Terminator tomorrow?'

Sam hardly hesitated. 'Can we have pizza too?'

Dad had left them enough money for groceries and the rent that was due, but Sammy needed those new jeans… 'Uh…'

'Come on, Dean. We never hang out any more.' Damn, he was doing those puppy eyes again.

If Dean stayed home tonight he'd save about ten dollars on movie rental and a pizza, but Sam wasn't going to be sucking on his dick, because, just, no, he wasn't. Dollars to donuts though, Lindsay in her little black bra would. From what he'd heard, that was worth way more than ten bucks. There was a bar down by the highway where they didn’t get too picky about ID, and stacks of green changed hands at the pool tables. He could hit it at the weekend. 'Yeah. Ok. Tomorrow. We'll rent videos and have pizza. But tonight you gotta go to Devlin's.'

Sammy's grin nearly cracked his face and Dean wondered for a second if he would find Terminator wasn't even on TV tonight if he checked the paper. Sam was sneaky like that.

'I could just stay here on my own.' Now Sam was doing that sideways look like he thought Dean would believe he was still watching the boob-tube and not checking out Dean's reaction.

'Ya think? And are you going to mop me up off the floor when Dad finds out I left you here on your lonesome?'

'Dean, I'm thirteen. Dad was leaving you alone to watch me when you were like eight.'

And look how brilliantly that had worked out, Dean standing there like a lemon while a fucking witch sucked the life out of his little brother. 'Sam, it ain't gonna happen, so stop arguing with me.'

'Deeean –'

'Enough, or there's no movie and no pizza, and I'm locking you in the bedroom.'

'Whatever. Dev's mom is probably making macaroni and cheese tonight. And it's not even out of a box. It's got, like, actual cheese on it.'

Dean wondered what Dad would do if he came home to find he'd strangled his little brother on the sofa. Probably nothing good. It wasn't exactly Dean's fault no one had been around to teach him to cook.

'When will you be home though? I don't want to spend the night, Dev snores even louder than you do.'

'I'll be home by eleven, probably. Does his mom care if you stay that late and then come home?'

'I dunno. Are you sure I can't just stay here? If I promise to keep the door locked and the windows salted and everything?'

'Just go have dinner with the kid and I'll come by when I'm done. I'll be there by ten thirty.' Two hours in the back of Lindsay's truck was better than nothing.

*

Lovers' Lane was already crowded when they got there, the windows that weren't rolled down to catch what breeze there was steamed up like a film cliché. 'The view's best from up here,' Lindsay said, backing into a space at the top of the turnout.

'The view's pretty good from everywhere as far as I can tell.' There was about a mile and a half of tanned leg stretching from the hem of her shorts to the gas pedal, and they could have been in the Everglades or the middle of the Nevada desert for all Dean cared.

Lindsay smiled, with maybe a hint of laughing at him for being so obvious. It didn’t slow her down any. Before Dean could even grin back, she was wiggling through the cab window into the back. The view of her ass in those shorts just had to be illegal in at least thirty states. Once her bare feet had disappeared through the hole, she turned around and looked at him.

'What'cha waiting for? You'll fit, trust me.' She winked, and Dean had to wonder how many guys had squeezed through the hole before him. He tried to picture Glen Rubio, the star tackle on the football team, fitting his shoulders through the gap, and stifled a laugh. 'And leave your shoes there,' she added.

No stranger to tight spaces, Dean joined Lindsay in the back as soon as his boots dropped into the footwell. She was stretched out on a pile of sleeping bags and blankets, pale pink halter top just about the only visible thing in the gloom. 'Hiya,' she said as he settled down next to her.

He felt suddenly shy. 'Hi yourself.' He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, but it didn't much matter, because before he had time to more than register uncertainty, she was pushing him onto his back and sucking on his lips. Oh, yeah.

Ass under his hands, her thigh rubbing all over his dick, tits brushing his chest, and the little moaning noises she was making as they kissed were about to drive Dean crazy. Then she started moving down, sucking his neck, biting his nipples through his shirt, and fuck, no one had ever done that before, but he was going to make damn sure someone did it again. Liking where she was heading, Dean pushed encouragingly at her shoulder.

The look in her eyes was wicked, and her grin was pure evil. 'We'll get to that,' she said. 'After.'

'After?' Dean's tongue was thick. 'After what?'

Lindsay rolled off him. 'After you. Ladies first.'

Dean wisely didn't point out that lady was not the first word he'd use to describe anyone shimmying quite so enthusiastically out of her daisy dukes on the first date. Not that he'd ever been that fond of 'ladies'.

Now his eyes were adjusted to the darkness, he could see all of the girl lying next to him. Tan lines made it clear she was a girl who had whole-heartedly embraced the teeny-weeny bikini craze. He didn’t even try to stop the appreciative hum in the back of his throat. She tugged at his shirt until he took it off, but she pulled him down and kissed him again before he could remove his jeans.

She was wet and hot and welcoming when his fingers headed south, but after a minute or two she stopped him. 'If you want my tongue, I get yours.'

Dean tried not to look too surprised. He'd fooled around plenty, done his fair share of dipping his wick, but no one had ever asked him to do that before. He'd seen a couple movies (though it was always a girl doing the licking while they waited for the guy with the huge dick to come and fuck them), and he reckoned he could figure it out, but still.

'Don't be shy.' She was pushing at his shoulder now. 'You're a real good kisser.'

Dean wriggled down between her thighs, thankful she had a long-bed. Even so, he had to bend his knees up and rest his toes on the back window. He laid a hand on Lindsay's hip. Ok, this was a little weird. Not can't get past it weird. Not finding out werewolves are real weird, but a little. And it didn't smell like fish. Nate Johnson said it smelled like fish. But it smelled more like when Dean had walked in on Sammy jerking off in the shower. Like shampoo and sex. And no. Just no, Sammy could fuck right off, he didn't belong here, not now.

Lindsay tugged impatiently at his hair. 'Sorry,' he muttered, and kissed the inside of her thigh. That was ok. It was just fine. Dean kissed again, licking up the inside of her leg, thinking how much it felt like her neck. Only, also, kinda not. She moaned the same as when he licked her neck though, and that was more than fine. That, he could seriously get used to. She moaned even louder when he stopped teasing and got down to business.

It wasn't totally un-like kissing. A lot harder work, and a lot harder to breathe, especially once she started bucking her hips and shouting his name, but it was still lips and tongue and responding to what the girl liked. Analisa had taught him that. An impressively mature twenty-one to his fifteen, a bartender in Nebraska, thumbing her way across the country and so world-wise it hurt. She'd hoisted herself up onto his baby's hood, hooked him close with a leg around his waist and kissed him for hours, smiling her slow smile and giving him pointers. Which he really should have minded, but didn't. Not at all. Not even when she'd left him aching and hard (for the third time in one night, which wasn't a record while he was jerking off, but was pretty good without ever being touched) with a palm-sized come-patch on his jeans.

Certainly all the girls he'd hooked up with since seemed to appreciate it. Lindsay looked like she wasn't going to be the exception to test the rule. Giving a final loud cry, she gripped his shoulder so hard he wondered if she was going to snap his collar bone, and kicked him in the ribs.

'Ow! Fuck!' Dean bolted upright. Lindsay just lay there, halter top twisted so one nipple peeked out, dark against pale skin. Dean'd kicked the tail-gate and now he wasn’t sure which hurt worse, his foot or his side. 'Did you have to kick me?'

'Sorry.' Lindsay's voice was all dreamy. 'Sorry. But fucking hell. That was… well. Fucking hell.'

Dean could see the dashboard clock from this vantage point. 9:15. He hoped Lindsay wasn't going to take too long about returning the favor.

Turned out, she wasn't. And all the guys had been right. It was so worth more than the ten bucks pizza and a video were gonna cost him.

Part 2