#...arguably

“The ride,” John said. He wondered if he was going to sock this guy one. Martell might not be happy about that.

Guy jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Don’t even gotta pay,” he said. “Marty up there covered the fee! Though tips are appreciated.” He made quotes in the air, licked his lips. “Worth a look, buddy.”

John stared as the guy weaved his way out the door, and looked at the big wooden partition. Martell had done under the table deals with him back there before; he didn’t realize it was now the entertainment section. He glanced up front, where Martell was still busy, and shrugged. Plenty of time.

The partition had been turned into a little hallway, with cheap siding and a screen. Around the corner, a pop-up room like John remembered, now with a hole cut in the door, and scribbled above it in sharpie: FREE FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES. SLIDE TIPS UNDER DOOR. 

“Never understood what was so glorious about these things,” John said, out loud, and there was a thump against the door. He grinned. “Didn’t mean to scare you. That a girl back there? Or a guy?”

Silence. Well, fair enough. Most men would probably go limp at the idea. “Guess that means I won’t get a name either, huh,” he said, and then knocked gentle against the cheap wood. “Just kiddin’. Hope you’re not trying to feed yourself like this, though. Martell better be paying you good.” No answer, again, and John did wonder. Didn’t seem like Martell’s type of business. But, then again, whether it was or not, and whoever this was or not, that wasn’t any of John’s. Beyond: “Hey, there,” he said, quieter. “Serious. You being made to? Knock one time for yes, two for no.” Silence, and he put his hand against the door. “I got a gun, and there’s those who are scared of me. I can get you out, if you need it.”

A pause, and two soft knocks. John nodded. This wasn’t really his type of thing, but the free did make him wonder. If it was the girl--or boy’s--kink, maybe. Just wanting it, and wanting it quiet and dark and easy, no strings. That, now. His gut felt warm, just thinking about it. That, he could see. “Hope it’s good,” he said, and ran his thumb against the hole. Cut smooth, and covered up in a thick layer of packing tape, so there’d be no abrading. He leaned his temple against the door, talking low. “That what you like? No one seeing? Just using you?”

A single knock, coming a little faster this time. He smiled, and pushed two fingers through the hole. “Show me,” he said, firm, and got a puff of warm moist breath before soft, puffy lips closed around his fingertips, and a slick push of hot mouth sucked him in, down to the knuckles before they were stopped by the door. A tiny moan, more felt in the vibration than even heard, and the mouth dragged back, and pushed down again, fucking itself on him. “Good,” John said, and got the tiniest scrape of teeth before there was another moan, louder this time, and a knock against the door. His dick was taking an interest, now, and he wondered--maybe--

“John-boy!” came Martell’s call, back behind the partition. “Store’s empty. Unless you’re jerkin’ off back there, come and let’s make a deal.”

“Ah,” John said, and took his fingers back. “Duty calls.” He actually was a little disappointed, but it was for the best. His fingers gleamed, in the dim light--he wanted to stick them in his mouth, just to see, but better sense prevailed and he wiped them on his hip instead. He stuck a five under the door, anyway. “You have a good night, now,” he said, and went out to get his bullets, and to hear about a very interesting potential hunt with a wraith.

When he came back to the motel, Sam was watching TV, surly, alone. “Where’s your brother?” John said, and Sam rolled his eyes--it was like at fourteen he’d decided to take it as his mission to roll his eyes as much as possible--and said, “Out, I think he said there was some girl he wanted to meet.”

John snorted. Well, Dean was responsible. “Pack up,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “We’re leaving in the morning.” Sam sighed, ridiculous, and John ignored it. When Dean got back, maybe they’d have another conversation about how a kid was meant to behave.