
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/711408.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Paraphilia, Ephebophilia, Prostitution, Forced_Prostitution, Forced
      Orgasm
  Series:
      Part 3 of Paraphilias_and_Other_Compulsions
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-03-07 Words: 2770
****** Ephebophilia ******
by Crystalwren
Summary
     "Ephebophilia: definition: the primary or exclusive adult sexual
     interest in mid-to-late adolescents, generally ages 15 to 19."
     John wishes to make a purchase. The seller's currency of choice is
     Sammy.
Notes
     No, seriously, this is a very dark fic.
I want to hold you close
Skin pressed against me tight
Lie still, and close your eyes girl
So lovely, it feels so right
I want to hold you close
Soft breath, beating heart
As I whisper in your ear
I wanna fucking tear you apart
- 'Tear You Apart' by She Wants Revenge
 
The guy is making a lot of noise.
Sammy is face down against the table, trousers around his ankles. That stupid
school tie is half off, his shirt rucked up his back. His hole is gaping and
wet as the customer- Luke or Lake or something else with an L- slams in and
out. Luke is a moaner and a howler and a grunter. He's clinging onto Sammy's
hips, fingers digging in. Sammy's face is flushed, mouth swollen and red but he
won't scream. He never does.
The woman with the camera is circling around. She's something of a pro. The
camera is held absolutely steady and it's obvious that she's focusing on more
than just the cock in Sammy's hole: Sammy's mouth, the customer's mouth, even
the customer's own hole and dangling balls, the way the customer- Lang, is it?-
is slamming so hard into Sammy that the rickety table is jumping slowly and
steadily across the floor.
Wiry adolescent muscles straining, Sammy tries to brace himself, move into a
more comfortable position, but the customer- Lane or Lenny, something with an
L- grabs a handful of Sammy's stupid long hair, gives it a vicious yank and
Sammy gives it up, stops moving, stays still even when the customer - Langer or
Larry or whatever- leans forward and slobbers all over Sammy's face, licking at
Sammy's mouth and sticking his tongue in Sammy's ear. And he keeps fucking and
grunting and he looks almost like he's forgotten the camera, but he hasn't
quite, because he never once gets in the way of the money shot: his cock in
Sammy's hole.
Dean sighs, bored. Breaking into a high school to make a porno, like that isn't
something that hasn't been done before. Putting blackout curtains over the
windows before dressing Sammy up in some stupid Catholic school uniform and
fucking him senseless over a table, yeah, like that's original. But these
three, the woman, the other guy and the one screwing Sammy- oh god, what was
his name again? Something starting with an L- have the books that John wants
and this is what John's agreed for payment. And it's not like Sammy hasn't done
it before. First time with a camera, though. Dean's seen it all before and he
yawns, keeping one eye on Sammy and one eye on the corridor in case the janitor
comes along. Shouldn't, he's been given enough money to keep away. And given
that the security guard is the one holding the camera, there's really no chance
they'll be caught. Still, watchfulness is always a good thing. Wouldn't want to
have to skip town with CPS on their heels. Again. Sammy's legal in this state-
barely, but legal is legal-, but CPS will chase you across the goddamn country
if they get your scent.
The customer- whatever the hell his name is- keeps fucking Sammy, and he leans
forward, bites Sammy hard on the neck. His jaw works, chewing at the skin and
Sammy's hand spasms on the edge of the desk. "Come on," he hisses around
Sammy's flesh," make some noise." But Sammy won't. He never does.
And the woman with the camera circles around.
The other guy, the short one with shoulders like tree trunks is just standing
there watching. He's smiling. And beginning to give Dean the creeps.
The guy on top of Sammy is speeding up. Slap, slap, slap, flesh against flesh,
and Sammy is clinging onto the edges of the table for dear life. "Oh god, oh
fuck, you slut," the customer yells, and Dean rolls his eyes. Like that's never
been said in a porno before. The woman dives in with her camera . The customer-
name starting with an L- slams in once more and makes a noise somewhere between
a groan and a scream. He falls forward, limp against Sammy's back. He brings
his arms about Sammy, hands shaking, and nuzzles against the back of Sammy's
neck, stroking gently at Sammy's flanks. A soft murmur of, "That was amazing,"
and the customer stands up, pulls out. The camera swoops in again. Cum's
tricking out of Sammy's abused hole, lots of it. It trickles down his perineum
to drip off of his balls. The woman reaches out and slaps Sammy's buttock and
obediently, he flexes his arse and thighs, forcing more out. The customer, name
with an L, wanders away with a doped up grin on his face.
Camera woman kneels down behind Sammy. Dean thinks for a second that she's
going to rim the boy, but she's more interested in making pretty patterns in
the cum that keeps dripping out and sliding down his skin, all while she holds
the camera with her other hand. It seems like there's nearly a gallon of the
stuff and each flex of Sammy's buttocks and thighs makes more of it ooze out
his hole. When it looks like the flow has finally stopped the woman slips her
forefinger into Sammy and digs a little more out. Sammy twitches and breathes
in sharply as her sticky finger slides out again, down, down, cupping his
balls, tugging gently at the loose skin before giving his half-hard cock a
nasty twist. Sammy draws a few short, hard breaths through his nose and
satisfied, the woman gets up and steps back behind the third wall, wiping her
hand absently on her jeans. And the other customer starts getting undressed,
slowly, Dean knows his name as well as he knows his own or Sammy's; this guy's
name is John.
The camera swoops in on John, who smirks as he performs a slow striptease. In
the meantime Sammy stands up, stretches, tries to shake the knots from his
spasming muscles. He knows better than to clean himself off. He kicks off his
school uniform trousers, huffs at Dean in disgust and turns to glare at the
wall. He always refuses to look at the customers afterwards. Dean had thought
for a long time that it was because he was ashamed, but one day Sammy had said
that it was because he didn't like looking at shit. And Dean had remembered
suddenly, that all the times Sammy had seen him and Dad getting it on, he'd
refused to look at either of them for days afterward. Dean sometimes wonders
what Sammy thinks of him and Dad, but he knows that Sammy loves the both of
them. They're all blood. The only family they've got is each other.
John finishes undressing. And that's when Dean gets a nasty shock.
The guy is hung. Not in a "wow, you're big," sort of way, or "dude, you're not
going to fit," or even "hello there, Black Beauty!" the guy is hung, he's
thicker than Dean's wrist. And god, is Sammy about to enter into a world of
hurt. Dean swallows, thinks hard about calling it all off. But over there in
the corner, half-hidden from the clothes that the other customer, name of L,
had flung there while he'd been getting undressed, is a satchel. And in it are
three books, heavy, worn, and bound in human skin. And that's what it's all
about, why Sammy is getting fucked silly on camera.
Dean wants to warn his brother, but it's risky enough that Sammy's being
photographed. Sammy's name, Dean's voice, that's the sort of thing that'll get
everyone arrested. And because Sammy has his back turned, Dean can't even make
eye contact.
"Hey, kid," John says, and, as Sammy grudgingly turns around, the woman's
camera is in position. A look of utter horror claws its way across Sammy's face
as he sees the customer's dick. He looks frantically back at Dean, begging, but
Dean can only close his eyes and shake his head. No way out. No way out for any
of them.
John snickers. He steps towards Sammy, moving gracefully for such a heavy guy.
Even though Sammy's already taller than him, weight for weight Sammy's just a
feather. It's as clear as day that he's getting off on the smell of fear. But
instead of violence, he touches Sammy with tenderness, gently, as though the
boy is a treasured lover. A soft kiss on the corner of Sammy's mouth, even
softer kisses on Sammy's eyelids. The whole thing is a horrible parody of love
making and John knows it, he keeps sneaking sideways looks at the camera,
smirking like he knows a secret that no one else does. Any moment now, any
moment he's going to turn mean, get violent.
But he doesn't. He just keeps kissing Sammy like he's kissing the love of his
life.
Sammy, for his part, is completely non-responsive. He doesn't even twitch when
John drops to his knees, taking Sammy's soft dick in his mouth. And John gives
it a good college try, he really does, but Dean could have told him that oral
doesn't turn on Sammy on, it never has. It's just one of those things . John
keeps it up until it's obvious that Sammy's not going to get it up, and
something very, very ugly is slithering around behind his eyes. Dean has his
hands on his piece without thinking about it, but even as angry as John is, he
still doesn't lose his temper. The guy just stands back up again, and goes back
to kissing Sammy's mouth.
Powerful hands glide up and down Sammy's spine, down, down, just skimming the
tops of his buttocks before gliding up again. Small circles are rubbed
underneath his shoulder blades. Soft kisses turn into gentle nibbles and the
guy takes them lower and lower, over Sammy's collar bones to his sternum, level
with the boy's nipples. And that's when John stumbles across Sammy's
personalised erogenous zone: right there, dead centre of his chest. Bite there
and Sammy will spend the rest of the day following you around like an overgrown
puppy.
Sammy gasps. He throws his head back and comes very close to letting out a
surprised moan. John bites a little harder, runs his palms down the outside of
Sammy's thighs. And starts playing Sammy like a violin.
John moves lower. He doesn't bother with Sammy's dick. He tickles the back of
Sammy's knee until the boy twitches his leg. It lets John in to suck on the
inside of skinny adolescent thigh, to lick at the tacky residue of the other
guy's cum. It should be gross but it isn't. It's hot, like watching two chicks
and a guy go together, which bothers Dean a lot. Business is business and
family is family, but when it comes to pleasure, Dean is strictly heterosexual.
A choked, grudging moan forces its way out of Sammy's mouth. There's an
absolutely filthy leer on John's face as he licks every square centimetre of
the inside of Sammy's thighs. There's a flush spreading across Sammy's cheeks
and his dick is starting to get thicker too.
John stands. He pulls Sammy into his arms and nuzzles at the boy's hair like
they're lovers. Just once, he makes a long, slow motion with his hips, grinding
both of their dicks together and Sammy jerks like he wants more. The woman with
the camera pauses briefly beside Dean and he catches a glimpse of what's on the
screen: Sammy's mouth, swollen and wet under John's kisses.
Kisses and more kisses. Sammy is returning them. He wraps his arms around
John's shoulders and gently but firmly, John pulls him down to the floor and
flips him over onto his stomach. And of all things, gives him a massage, which
makes him hump the floor.
John rocks back on his knees. He grabs Sammy by the elbows and lifts him bodily
up and onto his lap. And, slowly and remorselessly, begins to enter him. Sammy
twitches and jerks and whimpers. Each little movement lets more and more of
John's huge dick force its way inside. Soft, it was huge. Hard, it's something
out of the very worst of the pornos that Dean's ever seen. It's hurting Sammy
but he's enjoying it too, his own dick so hard it's standing straight up.
Finally it's all the way in, and Sammy is twitching, little gasps coming from
his wet mouth. "You little whore," John croons, and Sammy's eyes snap open with
a look of utter horror. "You little fucking slut, look at you, you love it,
don't you? Watch the camera," he hisses, and Sammy starts to struggle. Too late
because he starts to move and very quickly Sammy's reduced to hopeless
twitches. Shallow thrusts and gentle hands. Sammy is whimpering, whimpering,
drawing stuttering breaths, legs spread wide open so the woman can film John's
dick going in and out, and the way Sammy's own dick is flushed dark red and
erect.
The other guy- name with an L- sidles over to Dean. "Five hundred, cash, if you
blow him."
Dean's disgusted. "Just what do you take me for?" He hisses.
"Someone who pimps out a kid and stands and watches him get fucked on camera."
Dean snarls. It's not like that. It's not like that at all. Name with an L
looks at Dean's face and slips away.
If John were fucking, the spell would be broken. A dick that huge is going to
hurt no matter how you use it, but gentle use is quickly reducing Sammy to a
quivering mess. He makes a weak attempt to struggle but it gets him nowhere
except lower. John's breath is stuttering, rough. He reaches for Sammy's dick
and gives it a hard, fast pull, and Sammy comes with a groan like a sob.
That's never happened before. Sammy never makes a sound when he's with a
customer, and he never comes either. And the woman with the camera presses
zoom, and the guy with the name Dean can't remember is jerking off.
John still doesn't slow but he doesn't speed up either. Sammy stays hard as the
woman hands over the camera over to name-with-an-L, who almost drops it before
he realises that he can either wank or hold the camera but not at the same
time. She strips off and strides towards Sammy and John. She parts her thighs
with a wet smack and squats down. Every subtle movement of John's hips makes
Sammy's dick bob and finally it moves into the perfect angle and slips inside.
The woman throws her head back and laughs. John stops moving, leans back to
brace himself. He lets the woman ride Sammy rough, hard, her frantic movements
rocking Sammy's body up and down on John's dick. She's laughing, John's
laughing with her, and Sammy is between them with a face full of tragedy.
Afterwards, after all the cum is cleaned up and Sammy is slowly, painfully,
getting dressed in the corner, the woman turns off her camera and approaches
Dean. "That was amazing," she says. She's hot, just Dean's type, but for some
reason she makes his stomach turn and all he can do is give her a thin smile.
"No, really," she continues, "It's never been as good as this, ever. You know,
Daddy left me more books, you know. Like the ones your father wants." Cat-like,
she tilts her head to the side. "There's a party on Friday night. You and your
brother should come. Does either of you like dogs? Because John here breeds
Great Danes."
If there were more books like Dad's just paid for, there's very little he
wouldn't do to get his hands on them.
"We'll be in touch," Dean says.
The camera woman and John and the guy whose name Dean has just remembered-
James! No L at all- gather their things and leave. Sammy is standing in the
corner, his shoulders shaking.
"C'mon, Sammy, time we were leaving. What? What's the matter?"
Sammy is crying.
"Look, I know it hurt but it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. And at
least you got some puss-"
There's a sudden pain in his mouth and the taste of blood. This is because
Sammy has just punched him, very hard.
"I fucking hate you," Sammy hisses, "I fucking hate both of you."
He limps out of the classroom, leaving Dean to scramble after him.
"You don't mean that, Sammy."
"Fuck you!" Sammy screams.
 
 
                                      END
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