Sex, Drugs and Rock 'n' Roll
Summary: Dean is sixteen and turns to drink, drugs and sex to ease his heartache.
Dean felt ashamed sometimes.
When he was with Brad and he'd just dropped Sam off at the library with a silver knife, some holy water, a gun, salt and the knowledge he'd be back to get him in a few hours. Normally Sam would love to be in the library for that long a time but back then he had tugged at dean's jacket asking him not to go and dean could barely stand to look in his eyes. But at the same time all he wanted was the freedom brad offered. It may have come with a price every time but the e studding his cock like a Prince Albert was worth it. It made the world glow so bright Dean could see how fucking filthy it was.
Dean took the cock when he took the e, and, to be honest, the orgasm made it even better. He knew his dad knew. He had crashed one too many times with jizz leaking out of his ass, only half covered by motel sheets for him not to know. But he also knew that most the time he has lipstick smeared over his neck from kisses and decorating his cock like his own ornate, fucked up Prince Albert so his dad must have known he wasn't a pansy.
The first time he found him he thought Dean was sick. He came over, all concerned, like he hadn't been away for practical two months thinking Dean had the flu or some shit. He knew the truth, though, when he smelt the booze, saw the lipstick circling Dean's nipple and smelt the sex and the sick and the marijuana.
That had been the tamest of nights, after that Dean escalated. He saw a party, he went. His good looks guaranteed him entrance, his lips and bedroom eyes with their quilted lashes guaranteed him sex, his own fucking perseverance got him all the drugs he wanted. Usually free. His dad got him a STD test every month to be sure, because he'd tried every lecture, every punishment, even brought up Sammy, even brought up his mom, and he couldn't stop. The look he gave his dad when he mentioned Sammy, that shut him up for good. Even though the old man didn't know it, dean had been listening at doors when people had been telling his dad that he wasn't treating Dean right, that he'd act out, that he'd break. He didn't get to act like dad hadn't brought that on, like Dean was to blame. Like Dean didn't get fun or freedom.
He took his STD tests like he took his drugs, frequently, with some booze, usually followed by sex with a total stranger. His dad learnt not to wake him up to early, Sammy got a bit quieter (not a terrible thing, truth be told, he was a bit of a whinny brat) and Dean got lost in the shine of a drug addled world, never letting himself remember.
Never quite able to forget
So, yeah, this doesn't mean that this will be completed anytime soon. it just popped into my head at like 3 am last night and i had to write it up. John Winchester is alittle OOC in this, but i think it's less than it seems because of the point of view it comes from and the way, in my ead, John's completely consumed by his revenge.
blllllllllaaaaaaaaarrrrrgh. I don't know. Right now is a stressful time for me, because my results for my alevels are comingup as well as the tanition from sixth form to uni. fanfiction, atleast, is kind of taking a back seat. on te oher hand i am three chapters in to my original book, so...
thank you for reading. feel free to review.