Isn’t That My Line?
Summary: You want to contribute toward your keep living with the Winchester’s. To earn some honest money you start working on a sex line. Its easy money and what’s the worst that could happen?
Warnings: smut, language, masturbation (female and male), dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks!), bordering on crack-ish maybe? I don’t know.
Characters: Dean Winchester, You.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x You.
Isn’t That My Line?
Pride was a fickle thing. Though the boys had never asked for a penny toward your keep, you felt like you should contribute. After all, one more mouth to feed. They didn’t exactly pay bills at the bunker, but you still required clothes (there was only so many washes blood-stained jeans could take), and all your feminine products (the expensive stuff, not the cheap stuff that Dean bought that made your skin itch), it all added up over time.
Hustling pool wasn’t an option. Shooting a gun - easy. Throwing a knife into a moving target - cakewalk, but using a wooden stick to hit a ball an inch away was damn near impossible. Dean joked that it was some cosmic joke how bad you were at something that should be simple compared to your other skills.
Your poker face was nonexistent, a toddler could read your tells. Credit card scams were the easiest way but held the most risk and you were always anxious when using them in a store. So you’d had to find another way to earn some cash. Besides having an honest income, working a real job, made you feel normal.
Working from home, making your own hours, and earning twenty dollars an hour seemed too good to be true. However, it would be perfect, it meant you could still hunt, and work, that gave you a swell of pride too. So you had answered the ad on CraigsList.
