Chapter Text
Dean Winchester scrutinized the kid in front of him. It’s not that he didn’t like what he saw, he did, very much. Even through his schoolboy uniform, he could tell the boy had an excellent body, firm but lithe, flawless skin, big hazel eyes, a mop of chestnut brown hair, lips he could easily imagine stretching apart with his cock. If the boy turned around, Dean didn’t doubt he would see a tight, ready ass straining against the navy blue trousers. So the kid was a walking wet dream, that was not the problem. The problem was that there was no way the eager kid in front of him was eighteen. No fucking way.
“How old are you?” Dean asked curtly as he crossed his arms over his crisp white button-down.
“Eighteen, sir,” the boy said.
Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t lie. How old are you?”
The kid faltered, he lowered his eyes and then stared boldly up at Dean. “Eighteen.”
Dean sighed, looked past the kid, beyond the lights and the booms and snapped. “Harry, get Cas over here now.”
“What’s the matter?” Harry said, smirking. “You gonna need a fluffer?”
If the kid was in fact eighteen, Dean Winchester was definitely not going to need a fluffer for this one. A certain amoral part of him already couldn’t wait to bend the kid over the desk.
“Just get him, would you? Tell him to bring- What’s your name, kid?”
“Sam Wesson,” the kid said.
Dean looked back up at Harry. “Sam Wesson’s paperwork.”
Harry pulled off his headset, dropped it in one of the director’s chairs and went off to get the producer.
“What the hell is your problem, dude?” The kid asked, his eyes blazing. “I’m eight-teen. This isn’t my first scene. I gave the producer my license and everything. They ran a background test, paid for me to get checked out at a clinic, had me sign tax papers and consent forms.”
Dean shook his head. “Well, then you won’t mind if I recheck their work, right?”
Now it was the kid’s turn to roll his eyes. He plopped down on one of the student’s desks and literally huffed so hard his bangs blew gently off his forehead. And stupidly, this made Dean Winchester even harder.
“Look at me,” Dean said. And Sam, for all his sass, looked right up at him without a word.
He put his hand on the boy’s cheek, noting with unease that the boy flinched. Dean bent down so his face hovered above Sam’s. “I do not fuck little boys.”
It could have been a trick of set lighting but Dean thought he saw Sam’s eyes darken. Dean let Sam peel his hand off his cheek and push it away. “I haven’t been a little boy for a long fucking time.”
And Dean clocked him as quickly as that. The kid, even if he was eighteen, should definitely not be in this business. No way. He’d seen a ton of kids like him crash in and out of the business. Trauma came off him in waves. Usually, the producers even ask about that stuff before they bring an actor on. Besides naming their production company, HarderDaddy, they had rigidly ethical standards and practices. That’s what drew Dean to them in the first place. He’d been in the industry for fifteen years now and he’d seen his fair share of messed up sets.
Harry finally came back with a frazzled Cas in tow. Dean liked Cas precisely because he was so different from any other production head he’d worked with. He was awkward and polite and serious. Dean pegged him as autistic and asexual and the irony of a guy like that being a big deal in the porn industry amused Dean to no end.
“What’s happening, Dean?” Cas said, tightly.
“How old is the kid, Cas?” Dean asked.
Cas looked at Sam, who smiled brightly for him, and turned back to Dean. “He’s eighteen, Dean. It’s true he looks younger, but I went over everything with him. It’s all factual.”
Dean nodded and made a gimme gesture for the folder Cas had been clenching. “Give it to me.”
He flipped through the docs until he found a copy of Sam’s driver’s license. “When were you born, Sam? Month, day, year.”
“May 2nd, 2007,” Sam rattled off without hesitation.
“What did you do for your birthday?” Dean asked.
“What?” Sam asked in confusion.
“May 2nd was two weeks ago, what did you do?”
“Oh,” Sam said with an embarrassed smile. “My boyfriend took me out for sushi.”
The kid was a decent liar, Dean had to give him that.
He looked back at the driver’s license, read every word, examined every detail of the color copy, and couldn’t find a damn thing to dispute Sam’s claim.”
Dean looked up sharply at Cas. “And you interviewed him, asked him all the usual questions?”
Cas just looked confused. “That’s protocol, Dean.”
“Do you have his birth certificate?”
“We don’t have any actors’ birth certificate on file, Dean, why would I have Sam’s?”
Dean snapped the folder shut and handed it back to Cas. He looked back at Sam. Sam looked at him amiably, most likely for Cas’ benefit. Some people did look young for their age. And Dean knew that guys that looked younger than their age did particularly well in the industry. Hell, he was one of those guys. At 20, he looked like he was seventeen tops.
“What’s your sign?” Dean asked dumbly, not only was it a cheesy pickup line, but also it was really a crappy, last-ditch question.
“ Taurus. Chinese sign, Year of the Pig,” Sam said. There was a beat of silence before Sam looked up at Dean and oinked a couple times.
It was so unexpected that a number of the crew laughed. Dean did too, he couldn’t help it.
“Why is that funny?” Cas asked. “Year of the pig and he oinks? Well, that’s what pigs do.” Harry put his arm around Cas and led him off set.
Dean didn’t know if he believed Sam or if that persistent amoral part of him just won out, but either way, he just nodded. “Let’s have some fun, kid.”
Dean Winchester was erasing the day’s lesson from the whiteboard when Samual Wesson came in holding his latest failed test.
“Mr. Winchester?”
Dean turned around to see Sam standing in front of his desk looking sullen and even a little scared.
“Yes, Sam?”
“I was wondering if it would be possible to retake the exam?”
Dean smiled sympathetically but shook his head. “‘Fraid not Sam.”
“Is there some sort of extra credit I could do?”
“I don’t do extra credit, Sam. If you wanted a better grade, you should have boned up on your French conjugation. You should have come to me for help before the test.”
Sam looked down. “It’s just, my parents, they’re not going to…my dad’s gonna punish me, sir.”
Dean set his eraser on the whiteboard ledge and looked Sam up and down. “There is something we could do. Maybe, if you’re really serious here.”
“I am, sir. I definitely am.”
Dean smiled and patted the desk. “Come sit up here, back toward me.”
“Sir?”
“This will be so much better than your Dad’s punishments, Sam. Just gotta trust me on this one.”
“O-okay.”
Sam sat on the desk with his back toward Dean. Dean knelt up on the desk and let his arms snake around Sam. He started undoing Sam’s tie, letting his lips ghost over the boy’s neck and jaw on up to his ear. “Anybody ever touch you like this, Sam?”
“No, sir,” Sam whispered
“No?” Dean asked in surprise as he pulled Sam’s tie out of his collar and tossed it on the ground. “Goodlooking boy like you? And no one’s ever put their hand right here?” Dean pressed his palm against Sam’s crotch. The boy was already hard.
“No sir,” Sam whispered but it came out as a whimper.
Dean unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sucking like a horny vampire on Sam’s soft, smooth neck. “I like being first,” he said, pulling Sam’s shirt off him.
“I touch myself,” Sam offered awkwardly.
“Do you?” Dean asked, charmed.
“Yeah,” Sam said as Dean’s hands slid all over his bare skin. Dean put his hand on Sam’s cheek and moved his head easily so that their faces were an inch apart. Dean went in on Sam hungrily. His lips taking Sam’s lower lip easily. Sam gasped but didn’t back away. Dean kept running his palm up and down Sam’s chest as his tongue sought purchase in Sam’s mouth. This was quickly granted and Dean’s tongue explored with fervor.
When he finally let Sam go, the kid looked dazed, almost in pain.
“So, show me,” Dean said.
“Show you?”
“How you touch yourself.”
Sam unbuckled his pants and lifted himself off the desk just enough to pull his pants down. They made a muffled jangle sound when they hit the floor.
“Your boxers too,” Dean said, tweaking Sam’s nipple. Sam moaned and pushed his shoulders against Dean.
Sam pushed his boxers off. Dean gasped and laughed. “Aren’t you a big boy,” he said.
Sam shrugged against Dean. Dean bit his neck teasingly. “Come on babyboy, get to it.”
Sam started touching himself tentatively as Dean burrowed his hand through Sam’s silk-soft hair and kissed any skin he exposed roughly.
The boy moaned against Dean and soon began pleasuring himself in earnest.
“That’s a good boy, Sam,” Dean whispered in his ear before sucking on his lobe.
As soon as Sam’s breathing changed and his moaning became more out of control, Dean slapped Sam’s hand away. “That’s enough. Ever kiss someone’s cock?”
Sam laughed nervously. “No, sir. No. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, you’re doing it now, kid,” Dean said. “Stand up.”
Sam obeyed, quickly turning around. He bit his lip and watched as Dean swung his legs down so he was sitting in Sam’s place.
He leaned back, propping himself up by his arms and smiled at the kid.
“Come on, Sam. You want to turn that F into an A, don’t you?”
Sam took the two steps forward and tentatively squatted down and brought his hand to Dean’s belt. He undid it slowly, biting his lower lip and looking up at Dean.
Dean helped the kid pull down his pants and watched with an almost feverish arousal as the boy tentatively brought his lips to the head of his penis. He gave it the softest, most kittenish kiss and it made Dean full-body shudder.
“Like that, sir?” Sam asked looking up at him so innocent-eyed Dean nearly came right then.
“Open your mouth, Sam. Stick out your tongue, stay like that no matter what I do until I tell you otherwise.
Sam obeyed. Dean slid his cock down the wet velvet runway of Sam’s tongue and thrusted in and out of the boy’s mouth. Sam fidgeted but stayed like that, letting Dean slip in and out of the soft wet warmth.
Dean groaned. “So good, Sam. Such a good little boy. Now, close your lips around it and suck on my cock.”
Sam obeyed and the feeling was so electric, so abrupt that Dean cried out and dug his fingers into Sam’s hair to keep the boy in place. “Oh God, Sam, so fucking good.”
The boy looked up at him and without warning, without being told, took Dean’s cock down all the way to the base.
“AAAARGH!” Dean roared, clenching Sam’s hair. Dean looked down and saw Sam looking up at him and his cock twinged and tingled as a tight warmth began to settle inside him.
Sam kept working him back and forth and Dean pulled him off roughly. Both Sam and Dean looked at each other panting.
“Bend over on the desk.”
“Mr. Winchester, I-”
“Now, Sam,” Dean yelled.
Sam moved quickly, bending over the side of the desk. He didn’t even have to be told to slide his hands above his head.
Dean was on him in an instant. Pulling Sam’s cheeks apart to get a good look at his hole. “Such a sweet little hole,” he sighed, letting his finger tip circle the rim, waking up that bundle of nerves. Sam moaned.
He pressed a finger inside Sam little by little. Sam moaned as if he were too tight for it, but Dean could tell, Sam had lubed and opened himself up already. This was definitely not the kid’s first scene. Once he was deep enough, he gently stroked the boy’s prostate. Sam erupted in whimpering moans as he squirmed against Dean. Dean played with him a little longer, enjoying the feel of the boy struggling beneath hims, and of course the sweet, almost distressed noises coming out of his mouth.
Dean pulled his finger out and held his cock at the boy’s entrance, rubbing it up and down, to tease them both. Sam whined. Dean laughed bent over until his chest was flesh against Sam’s back and fisted Sam’s hair. He pressed Sam’s face down hard, and Sam turned his head so he could breath and whimper freely.
“Are you gonna be teacher’s slutty little come-dump?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam all but sobbed.
“Say it,” Dean said, shaking him by the hair.
“Gonna be your slutty little come-dump.”
“Yeah, you are,” Dean declared. He lifted off Sam but he still had him by the hair. He lined his cock up and forced Sam’s head back just as his cock slammed into Sam’s prostate. Sam howled and whimpered as Dean thrusted at a punishing speed. “Good little slut,” Dean yelled, hitting Sam’s prostate on every word. “Oh god, so tight for me.”
“Please sir, can I come? Please sir,” Sam asked in a shaky, desperate voice.
Dean let his head go and grabbed Sam’s cock as he continued to ram in and out of him. Dean jerked him off as he neared his own climax. He could tell Sam was close. He lifted the kid up into a standing position and held him in place roughly as he railed him and roughly stroked Sam’s cock. “Please can I come, please sir.”
Dean bit Sam’s ear. “Be a good little boy and come for your teacher,” he growled. And Sam moaned, louder, longer in quick succession and then he stopped for a half second before producing a strangled moan that went right to Dean’s cock, and splattered cum all over the desk. Dean pushed Sam back over the desk, making sure his face landed in the cum.
“Lick it up, baby boy. Lick up your mess for me,” he breathed as he thrusted in and out. He watched Sam lick it up and that was it. His groaning reached a crescendo. His cock pulsed inside Sam and he kept going moaning and panting through the best orgasm he had ever had in his life.
“You know what the French call the orgasm, Sam?” Dean asked.
“No, sir.”
“Le petit mort.”
“The little death,” Sam whispered.
“The little death,” Dean echoed, kissing Sam sloppily on the nape of his neck before relaxing
“And cut,” Harry yelled. Dean collapsed against the boy, unintentionally pinning him under him as he waited for his breath to return to normal. He idly stroked Sam’s hair as he swallowed a few times. Sam didn’t seem to mind. Or at least he let Dean do it without resistance. But as soon as the PAs showed up with robes and towels, Sam slid his way out from under Dean and pulled on the soft silk robe, tying it tightly around him. Dean did the same, all the while trying to catch Sam’s eyes. But Sam wouldn’t look at him.
Harry was all smiles as he approached them. “Great work, guys. Your chemistry is off the charts. Never seen anything like it. So, Sam, you’re off the clock, Dean, you have Dr. Pervy coming up in about an hour. Again, good work, both of you.”
Dean looked at Sam but Sam was watching Harry leave. He nodded to himself.
“You okay, Sam?” Dean asked carefully. Sam did not seem okay. He seemed, God, Dean didn’t know, confused maybe?
Sam, whose face was still glistening with the sweat and cum, clenched the towel tightly before turning to Dean. “Sure yeah. See you tomorrow.”
“Sam-”
“Bye, Dean,” Sam said and then he quickly walked off toward the showers.
Dean had a weird feeling about Sam he couldn’t explain. And since he had time he decided a little stalking wouldn’t hurt. He quickly got dressed and waited around the corner from the bathroom until Sam came out sporting wet hair, a hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans. He carried a small backpack on his shoulder and began walking swiftly to the door. Dean followed a safe distance behind. He let Sam walk out the door and into the parking lot, before he dared to step outside himself. From underneath the gray awning, Dean watched as Sam walked across the parking lot to a man leaning against a gray SUV with his arms crossed at his chest. He was yelling at Sam, but Dean couldn’t hear what he was saying. Sam seemed to make himself smaller and just kept nodding.
Then the man grabbed Sam’s arm so suddenly, Dean instinctually took three fast steps towards them before realizing it. When he looked back at the guy, he and Sam were kissing. The man was significantly older than Sam, like whether he was eighteen or fifteen, like Dean would have guessed him to be, he could have easily been his father. And while Dean did feel vaguely hypocritical for judging the man, as he himself was old enough to be Sam’s father and had in fact just fucked the shit out of him.