Chapter 1: First Time's Rough
Sam, Dean, and John are taken to the future by a creature claiming to be an angel. All John knows is that he's going to kill anything that thinks it can harm his boys and get away with it.
John watched his boys spar, interjecting every once in a while to point out weak points in their technique or to chastise Dean for not taking practice seriously.
“Dean,” he barked. “Get the hell off your brother. It’s not time to screw around.”
Dean rolled off of Sam, grinding his hips down one more time to make Sam gasp before he pulled away completely.
“Come on, Sammy-boy. You’re getting taller, but I don’t see you putting those inches to use. You should be able to take me by now.”
And Sam was back on him, trying for a hold and losing it when Dean countered with a move of his own. They sparred in earnest, each going all out to pin the other, but neither one of them succeeding.
“Alright, boys,” John said. “Enough’s enough. Hit the shower. Sam first,” he added before a fight could break out.
Sam grinned smugly at Dean and narrowly avoided being pelted in the head with a pillow.
“Sorry,” they both mumbled.
Sam shut the bathroom door behind him. A few seconds later, John could hear the shower going and he sighed reservedly. They were all tired and needed sleep after the last few days, but Sam had been restless and John didn’t want his boys thinking they could slack off in their training.
“We could have showered together,” Dean said petulantly, still miffed that he wasn’t currently getting laid. That was his idea for wearing Sam out, but John had turned it down. Why, he didn’t know. It sounded like a good idea at the time, which only proved he was tired and not thinking clearly.
“If you were in the shower,” John said. “You wouldn’t be in here with me.”
Dean smirked. “You have a point.”
Dean was on him in a flash. John barely had time to catch him before his son’s tongue was licking its way into his mouth and his hips were grinding down, legs wrapped around his torso for leverage.
Dean broke the kiss, groaning at the contact and John kissed down his neck, breathing in deeply. It was hot and musky and the primal smell only fueled the flames of need going through John. Sam didn’t have this smell. After they sparred or exercised, Sammy always needed to shower. But Dean, Dean never smelled bad after a workout, only better, and John wasn’t sure there was anything better than having his son when he was hot and sweaty and panting with need.
Dean was definitely on board with whatever plan he had. Only good things could happen when his dad lost control like this. It didn’t happen as often as he would have liked, but after-workout sex should have become part of some routine they had. Sammy, especially, would like the reward. Probably wouldn’t complain so much about training if they always finished with sex.
It was then that the humming started, so low at first that they couldn’t hear it over the sounds of their panting and gravelly moans. But it grew louder as the seconds passed. John was the first to break away.
“Do you hear that?” he asked.
“Down, Dean,” John said and Dean obeyed immediately. He knew that voice. It was hard and commanding, not one that belonged in the middle of their heavy make out session. It was filled with worry and a fear of the unknown.
Dean heard the noise after a moment and immediately darted into the bathroom, flinging open the shower curtain without reservation.
“No time, Sammy,” Dean said hurriedly. “Gotta move.”
Sam’s hand was off his cock and grabbing clothes almost immediately. He pulled his shirt over his head just as the noise went from manageable to uncomfortable to painful. Then the hum was a scream that shattered the windows of the hotel room and brought tears to John’s eyes as he clutched his ears in agony.
It didn’t last more than a minute, and when it was gone, it went completely. The dead silence was a relief to all three Winchesters, not that they had time to really feel relief once they realized they weren’t alone. A man stood in the center of the now-trashed hotel room, looking around with a blank curiosity that John was unable to read more into. His arms fell limply to his sides and his face, other than a slight crease in his eyebrows, remained passive.
“John Winchester,” the man said.
It may have been a question, but without any inflection, John couldn’t be sure. Either way, nothing good could come of whatever creature had made that ungodly noise.
“Who the fuck are you?” John asked, going for the knife in his boot. He felt a moment of relief when he realized that whatever the hell was happening started before he and Dean undressed and that he was still armed. He didn’t wait for a response before he attacked. He bounded the few steps it took to put himself into the creature’s personal space and plunged the silver knife into its chest.
John pulled back immediately, taking the knife with him. Shit, he thought, backing away and searching out the quickest exit. Demon. The silver knife would have worked on nearly anything else. Demon was the only other option he could think of, but the creature’s words threw him for a loop.
“I am…” the creature trailed off. “Well, I used to be…” He sighed. “I don’t have time for this,” he said exasperatedly when John tried attacking him again, this time with a rod of pure iron.
The angel pulled the rod from his chest and watched the Winchesters when they ran. Unfortunately for John, there were only so many exits to the small hotel room and the creature was blocking the path to the front door, leaving only the bathroom window to escape through.
The angel caught up to them with Sam halfway outside and gently touched John on the shoulder.
The first feeling he had was of displacement, of the ground disappearing from beneath him. Then came a wave of nausea so strong it felt as if his organs were trying to forcibly remove themselves from his body. When the ground was back beneath him, solid pavement under his boots, he retched violently and grasped for something to hold him steady.
“You’re alright,” a deep voice soothed. It was different from the creature’s voice, more soothing. “First time’s always rough.”
“Every time’s always rough,” came another voice, just as deep, but gruffer.
“Dean,” the first voice chastised and John pulled himself together enough to look around the room for his eldest. He didn’t want anyone talking to his boys, especially in that tone. He would figure out where they were, who was holding him captive, and how to kill the creature that had kidnapped them, and then he’d deal with whoever though it was okay to speak to Dean in that tone.
He caught sight of his boys sitting on one of the queen beds in the small hotel room that could have belonged to any place across the states. One man—at least John though he might be a man, didn’t have the markers for him to assume a monster—sat on the other bed, reassembling a pistol.
“Can it, Sammy,” he said from the bed, only fueling John’s anger. His youngest sat pressed to Dean’s side and hadn’t made a peep since John had made eye contact.
“Don’t tell me to can it,” the second man answered from behind John. “You’re the one who’s being insensitive.”
“How am I being insensitive? Flying AngelAir sucks ass, and that’s the truth.”
“Enough!” The creature appeared in the corner, his voice deeper, angry. “We do not have time for this. I have used too much energy to transport them here and Zachariah is no doubt attempting to locate us. We need to move.”
“Sammy, grab your mini. Cas, I think you should take the old man. He won’t go without a fight and I’m not sure he won’t try to stab us.”
The creature—Cas—nodded and stepped forward with his hand outstretched. Despite John’s protests, Cas placed two fingers to his forehead and the world went black.
John woke up in a cabin this time, one that looked more familiar. It was undoubtedly his cabin in North Carolina, but it was different somehow. He didn’t know what his captors had done to it, but it was weather-beaten and worn, though he’d only been away a couple of months. It was as if it had aged a decade in that time. He really needed to find out more about these people. If he didn’t already have a thousand reasons to make them pay for kidnapping him and having the gall to chastise his sons, he would have killed them for what they’d done to his cabin. It wasn’t the best one he had, but it was the first he’d built and stocked in case he needed to go off-grid, and he’d become attached to it.
“You sonofabitch,” John protested, blinking against the brightness of the lights around him. Getting knocked out was never much fun. He felt fine other than a dull pressure in his head, as if he’d just taken too short of a nap, but he remembered what had happened and was furious about it.
“Dad!” both of his boys were out of their chairs and on him in seconds. Dean hugged tight, and Sam pressed small kisses down his neck.
It was hard, but John pushed them away, scanning the cabin for Cas and the other two men. The men sat at the kitchen table, facing John, but Cas was nowhere to be found.
“Glad you’re awake,” the taller one said.
“Dean,” he chastised.
“Sam,” came the sarcastic reply.
“Yes?” his boys answered at the same time.
“Oh,” they all said, and John wanted to know what realization they’d come to.
“I guess this is kinda weird,” said the shorter of the two men.
“How’s this? Sam,” he motioned to himself. “Dean,” he motioned to the second man. “Sammy, Dee,” he motioned to the two boys. Think it’ll work?”
Dean smirked. “You’re just tryin to get me to stop calling you Sammy.”
“Dean,” he sighed exasperatedly.
“Yeah, yeah, sasquatch. It’ll work.”
“What the hell is going on?!” John yelled. All four of them looked at him, speechless.
“I believe it is best that I explain,” came a familiar voice in the doorway. John hadn’t heard him come in, but the creature—Cas—stood there, watching his outburst with little to no interest plain on his face. “Sam and Dean are being hunted by angels. I have brought you here so that Zachariah does not attempt to alter the future using the power from the Spring Equinox to ‘grab them while they’re young.’”
John shivered. What the hell?
“What do they want with us?” Sammy asked at the same time Dee objected, “There’s no such thing as angels.”
“Sorry to break it to you, kid, but there is. ‘S a matter of fact, Cas here’s an angel, too. Aren’t you, Cas?”
The creature glared, but answered. “Yes. I am an angel of the lord.”
“Bullshit,” all three of them said together and John had to smirk at his two boys.
Sam and Dean shared a look and that, in itself, went further in convincing John they were his sons than anything else that had happened. It was the same look Sammy and Dee shared, one he wished he could be privy to sometimes, when they told each other everything they needed to know in the space of a short glance.
Then the moment was over and Dean backed down to let Sam lead.
“Look,” he said. “We don’t have time to convince you that we are who we say we are, but believe me when I say you’re all in danger and we’re the only ones who can help.”
Dee looked at John then, eyebrow crooked. He shrugged. “I believe ‘em,” he said. Then he outright grinned. “Only Sammy could be that much of a nerd in the future.”
“Hey!” both Sams objected at the same time.
Dean guffawed and slapped his knee while Dee’s laughter echoed over it.
Things were getting weird.
Things had gotten much weirder than anything John could have imagined.
“What the hell do you mean you’re sleeping with that thing?” John exploded.
Castiel stood in the corner, trying not to call attention to himself, though he ached to help Dean. He’d heard some of the Winchesters’ history, knew exactly what kind of life they’d lead. It had been good once, even after their mother had died. There’d been a turning point when Sam turned ten and the relationship between the brothers and their father grew stronger. Then, something had happened—Dean wouldn’t tell him what—to make Sam hate John and to make Dean’s disappointment grow.
After that, they weren’t a family so much as a group of Hunters, and it was no secret that John could be a little hands-on at times. He feared for Dean’s safety when John’s hand twitched, but didn’t move to help. It would only make the situation worse. Dean was the best at diffusing hostile situations. As he’d heard countless times, Sam and their father were practically at each others’ throats all hours of the day.
Dean took the time to calm John down. Castiel had missed most of the conversation, stuck in his own musings. He didn’t miss John’s glare, though.
“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, nudging him in the arm. He’d long-since recognized the gesture as one of comfort, though it was brief.
“I am alright, Dean,” he sighed. “I fear for their safety as you do, though I am confident in the sigils’ power to shield them until we can find a way to—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Dean interrupted, slipping further into Castiel’s ‘personal space.’ “I meant, are you alright with having John here even though he hates you? Are you alright that you’re with a man whose father thinks you’re a monster that needs to be Hunted? Do you feel alright?”
Castiel thought about the question. In all honesty, he did not feel alright. It was nerve-wracking to discover that he held affections for a human, of all things. Then to have unlocked a small part of himself that held a passion he couldn’t put a name to—it was overwhelming. Now those same emotions were coming back to haunt him, and they weren’t the pleasant ones that held him in the afterglow of lovemaking. These feelings were wrapped in self-doubt. Though he knew that Dean loved him, new thoughts sprung to make him wonder whether John was right about their coupling. Castiel was not a woman, could not give Dean children. He could not provide a normal life, wouldn’t even know the first thing about ‘normal.’ All he would do is put him in more danger.
“Cas? Hey.” Dean’s arms came around him then, holding him together when he felt as if he might fall apart from all of his wondering. Emotions were worse than he could have imagined. “You know I love you, right?” Dean asked.
“Good.” Then Dean placed a light kiss on his lips, and it held all the reassurance he needed.
From the corner of his eye, he could see John Winchester’s expression shift and change from outright anger to pensiveness to resignation. Whether he liked seeing his future son with an angel or not, he seemed to have realized it was useless to argue. That wasn’t what held his attention, though. No, his attention was focused solely little Dean. The young man’s face lit up at the exchange and he eyed Castiel appreciatively, want expressed in every fiber of his being. It didn’t seem to matter what form Dean was in, that look went straight to his—
“So,” John said, standing. “How long are we here?”
Two days. A lot could be done in two days. He shared another look with Sammy, the same thoughts and ideas expressed in his face that he was sure was in his own. Sam was huge when he was big and there was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity he’d been given.
Although, that angel was kinda hot, and from the heated look he had in his eyes, there was no doubt that Dee would get a taste of him too. Then, while he was on that train of thought, Sammy had to go and do the one thing that was sure to harden his cock in an instant. It didn’t matter if Dee was doing what he was doing now—contemplating how he could get both the angel and Sammy in the same bed—or if he was digging up a grave for a salt and burn, his cock would be hard as stone in seconds.
Sammy unconsciously licked his lips, letting the whites of his lower teeth peek out before they were hidden again, like a tease. Dee wanted to lick into him, scrape those teeth with his tongue, taste Sammy any way that he could. Blood was obviously pumping through his little brother’s veins with anticipation, causing a flush of his cheeks that would trail all the way down to his—damn Dee needed to stop thinking like that or he wouldn’t last long enough to get what he really wanted.
Then again, he thought, they did have two whole days before they had to go back. A lot could happen in that time. If he wanted to take Sammy now, he could. No one was in the room, and Sammy was ready and willing, especially after being interrupted in the shower that morning.
It had been three days since that damn coin. He hadn’t found release since then—and it wasn’t in a good way either, like it was when their dad wanted them to wait for him and he could have fun teasing Sammy. This was the kind that made him feel like he could get blue balls if he waited any longer.
Right after he’d gotten rid of that coin—who knew things could go bad so fast?—they’d taken a poltergeist Hunt that took a lot longer than they thought it would. Most of that time had been spent either getting thrown around the house by a pissed off entity or so exhausted it was all he could do to make it to the bed before he collapsed.
This morning was the first time in days that any of them had been ready to get up to something frisky, and then Cas had to come in and interrupt them, not that he was complaining about that fact. It was just that he wasn’t used to going without for so long and neither was Sammy.
If he had it his way, though, he wouldn’t have to go through another night without being able to bury himself deep inside Sam—Sam, Sammy, he didn’t care which, wanted both—and come so hard that he was seeing stars. There wasn’t much else he wanted beside that, though Sammy was a bit more imaginative with his thoughts.
Oh, he wanted his brother’s cock inside of him, stretching him out as far as he could go, coming so hard that each jet stimulated his prostate, that much was true, but he wanted so much more than that. He wanted to taste that angel’s cock while both Deans took turns fucking him. Maybe they could both fuck him at once while Big Sam stood over them, their mouths on his cock. And it would be like they were both sucking down Sammy’s cock, just at a different time, and then he would have something to look forward to in the future. Both Deans blowing him, he would come down their throats, so deep they’d choke on it.
But Sam’s mouth wouldn’t be empty. No, Sam’s mouth would be wrapped around his dad’s cock, as deep as he could take him. He’d suck hard until his dad was screaming his name over and over again and he could taste the thick salty sweetness of his dad’s come in his mouth. Oh yeah, Sam had plans for that night, and the next. If they could stay the next week, there would be plans to fill every minute.
Sam looked over at Dean to get him on board, but there was no need. His pupils were blown wide and his cheeks were flushed. They were on the same page, then. All there was to do, was put these plans into effect.
Chapter 2: Hush
Sam's all tied up while little Sammy and Dee have their fun...
Sam’s wrists and ankles were bound so he could do nothing but kneel. His arms were straining to move and it was uncomfortable to say the least, but his cock was hard as a rock and the anticipation of what was coming was keeping him from moving even an inch. He didn’t know what Sammy planned on doing to him, couldn’t see a thing with the blindfold on, but whatever it was, it was sure to be good. Dean was off somewhere else—probably with Cas or their father—but he could hear Dee moving around, his movement a quiet shuffle compared to Sammy’s heavy steps.
He jerked in surprise as a hand came down on his ass, three quick reps that stung even after the hand was gone. He couldn’t keep his gasp from escaping and he knew that that would be enough to sanction punishment.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Keep making noise like that and I’m going to have to gag you, and then you won’t get to put that in your mouth,” his younger said.
The blindfold kept him from seeing what Sammy was talking about, but there was no mistaking the hot member pressing at his lips.
“Open,” Dee said, his hand pulling at Sam’s long hair, and Sam obliged, parting his lips. Dee thrust inside, not stopping even when Sam gagged on it, cock pressing into his throat.
Sam tried to breathe through his nose, but Dee wouldn’t let him, just kept pressing deep, holding the back of Sam’s head now to keep his lips pressed against his naval, the entire length in his mouth and down his throat. Tears sprang to Sam’s eyes from the lack of oxygen, and the only thing keeping him from forcing himself back or using his nonverbal code word, was the long moan Dee let out at his constricting throat muscles.
Sam saw stars, his head swimming. It was too much. He didn’t remember Dee being this big when he was sixteen, but the proof was right there inside of him, cutting off his airway as he struggled to pull in something, anything, so long as he didn’t pass out. Then Dee was pulling out, allowing Sam to breathe in once before he was back inside, fucking in and out of his mouth now with a chorus of SamSamSammyMineSam mixed in with pants and groans.
Sam found the rhythm of Dee’s hips and moved in time with them, drawing the thick member deeper and sucking as best he could.
Tiny slick fingers probed his hole, ripping another gasp from him when one dipped inside.
Dee pulled out completely and the fingers disappeared from him, leaving him feeling empty and alone.
“Told you quiet, Sam. Gotta teach you. You too, Sammy. On the bed.”
“What?” Sammy asked. “Why?”
Sam heart the unmistakable slap Dee placed on his ass before he felt the bed dip with Sammy’s added weight.
“If Sam here still can’t be quiet, it means that you haven’t learned to behave either.”
It made a sick sort of sense in Sam’s mind, but he didn’t think much for long because the pain started almost immediately after. Dee’s hand came down hard on him, a litany of never-ending smacks on his ass and thighs. Tears poured from his eyes at the sting, but he held his tongue when a particularly forceful strike tapped his scrotum. It was pain, but a kind that didn’t make his cock any softer. If anything, he was dripping wet beads of precome into the mattress and straining against his cock ring for release. It was the best kind of pain.
Dee’s palm came down again and again so many times that Sam lost count. The only thing he knew was that he definitely wouldn’t be able to sit for a week—maybe two—without remembering this particular lesson.
“Deeeeeeeee,” Sammy crooned from beside him. “Please, Dee, please. Pleasepleaseplease.”
Sam didn’t know what Dee was doing to Sammy, but he could almost feel the overwhelming need that he heard in his voice. For what, he didn’t know, but it was there and it was powerful and it was seeping into Sam’s very being, that need. It made him want to beg and scream and moan, but he couldn’t do any of that. Dee wanted him to be compliant, and that meant silence.
So Sam begged in the only way he could. He lifted his ass higher, asking in silence for moreDeepleasemore, an internal chorus that matched Sammy’s verbal one. Dee’s palm landed three more times on his welted cheeks before they turned soft and caressing, only adding to the sting of the heated skin.
“Did you learn your lesson? Speak.”
“Yes,” he croaked, his voice weak as he tried to keep from pulling away from Dee’s searching hands.
“Good boy,” he said. “Sammy, undo his ankles.”
Sam didn’t hear a response, but his ankles went lax as they were released from their bindings and he could feel Sammy’s hands on him, massaging the feeling back into them.
Dee flipped Sam onto his back, arms stuck under him, legs spread wide.
“Secure him,” Dee ordered, and Sam’s ankles were bound again to the bedposts only seconds later.
Sam nearly groaned in anticipation of what was to come, but he’d learned his lesson and not even a peep escaped him.
“You’re a good boy, Sam, such a good boy for me,” Dee crooned, his hands moving up and down his torso now, pausing only briefly to pull at his sensitive nipples before trailing again.
“Sammy,” Dee barked, but nothing came after that, Sammy having supposedly stopped whatever he was doing.
“Open,” Dee ordered him.
Sam opened his mouth obediently, not the slightest bit of hesitation at the sound of Dee’s voice. He was pleasantly surprised at the taste of Sammy’s cock resting heavily on his tongue after that. Little Sammy with his tiny cock, not yet as big as Sam was, as he was gonna be, but still bigger than any twelve year old besides. He didn’t shove and force like Dee did, but let Sam control the pace, and it drove Sammy wild if his uncontrollable gasping was anything to go by.
Sam knew what he liked and he went with it, swirling his tongue along the underside of the head, before taking him all the way down, encompassing his cock and balls in one straight shot, and sucking, sucking for all he was worth until Sammy came inside his mouth with a shout.
It was then that he felt Dee pressing into him, slowly and with more care than he’d taken with his mouth. He pushed in, one inch at a time, while small bursts of salty fluid landed on Sam’s tongue. Sammy’s hands combed through his hair, hips pumping with every shock of his orgasm, and still Dee pushed into the tight heat of Sam’s ass until he was nestled all the way inside.
“Still so tight, Sam. How—”
And Sam lifted his hips and sunk back again, cutting off whatever Dee planned to say. Dee grabbed his thighs for leverage, pounding into him now, meeting each of his thrusts. Sammy pulled his cock from Sam’s mouth and leaned down for a kiss, no doubt tasting his own release on Sam’s tongue. Dee’s hips stuttered like they did when he was close, but that was all he could tell about Dee before Sammy’s mouth was on him, a moist wetness that brought more tears to his eyes.
Damn, he needed to come so bad and he knew he couldn’t. Not with that damn cock ring, and definitely not without Dee’s permission because, despite what had happened between them and how much older Sam was now, he was still Dee’s good boy, now and always.
“Please, Dee?” Sammy asked, pulling off only long enough to ask the question before he was back on him, sucking Sam’s brains out through his cock.
“Yeah,” Dee panted, driving in and out of Sam’s ass for all he was worth. “Yeah, Sammy. Do it.”
Then that dreaded cock ring was gone, Sammy’s lithe fingers removing it in seconds, and Sam was coming, blinding white into Sammy’s mouth, Dee’s cock sparking something hot and ohgodsoperfect inside of him, sending pleasure through his entire body as he strained against his bindings.
Dee fucked him through it, even after his own release. Come filled his ass as Dee pounded into him, slicking the way even more, not that Sam noticed after his orgasm. He collapsed back onto the bed, every muscle in his body completely relaxed like it could only be after a Dean-orgasm. No one else could have compared.
Dee pulled out of Sam and cleaned him up, tongue swirling inside of him until every drop of his come was gone. Sammy released his bindings and removed his blindfold and he looked up into the same familiar hazel eyes he saw in the mirror, except these ones weren’t dimmed by the grief of the deaths of everyone he loved. They were young and boyish and, despite what they were up to in the bedroom, innocent.
Sammy’s lips came down on his, tasting again, and Dee rested his head on Sam’s chest, cuddling like he never did with anyone else.
Chapter 3: Distractions
Sammy distracts John for Dean, but Dean isn't the only one who gets something out of the deal...
Sammy cast another look at his dad through thick eyelashes. He knew his father was already hard in his pants, especially with the way Sammy had been teasing him all morning. Dean was obsessed with getting his angel, Sammy knew, and that left their father to contend to. He’d backed off after he realized that the angel didn’t want to harm them, but that didn’t mean he’d be alright with them fucking in the next room.
So Sammy did what he thought was best. He stuck his ass out when he reached for something on the lowest shelf, showing off that small strip of skin above his back that he knew drove his father crazy. He jutted his lower lip out a little bit, just enough to make it noticeable, to make someone like his father want to come right out and suck it into his mouth. He looked up demurely from beneath thick lashes and let his eyes shine with lust.
He’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t get anything out of it. His father’s star struck expression would fuel his fantasies for a long time. Plus, he was sure he was going to be pounded into next week, taken hard and rough until his hole was dripping with his father’s come and he could feel it every time he sat. There was also that incentive.
Sammy cast one last look over his shoulder at his father, one that promised great things in the future if he followed, and sauntered out the door just as quick as you please. He darted quickly around to the back side of the cabin. Trees surrounded them and the nearest neighbor was miles out—the perfect place for what he wanted.
Before he could do more than plan his next step, John was there, grabbing him, lifting him up and pressing him against the cabin, both of their clothed cocks rubbing together obscenely. John kissed a trail up and down Sammy’s neck, sending shivers of arousal down his spine. Then John’s mouth was at his ear whispering the most obscene things.
“How do you want it?” he heard John whisper.
“Hard, Daddy,” Sammy nearly begged. “Fast, need it now.”
“You sure, Sammy? Don’t want to hurt you.”
“Sure, Daddy, always sure. Won’t hurt me, take it so good. Please.” Tears of need and frustration built up and poured from his eyes, falling in neat little trails down his cheeks that he wanted his daddy to press his lips to and make it better.
His father’s lips did just that. John kissed his boy’s cheeks, one then the other, and did as Sammy asked. He lifted him away just long enough to get his pants down—didn’t even bother with undressing himself, just unzipped his fly and pulled himself out—but then Sammy was on him again, legs wrapped around his hips to sink himself down quickly on his father’s engorged cock.
“Daddy!” he yelled as John’s cock filled him up, stretched him wide. There was no pause, no time to adjust, before his father was plunging his cock in and out of him, sharp thrusts of his hips that built up speed as they went. John pinned him against the wall with his body, using it as leverage to thrust deeper and harder.
Sammy’s mind was a complete and utter blank, and other than the litany of curses that spilled from John’s mouth, the world outside was blocked out. All there was, was the pleasure of his father inside him. All he heard was his father’s voice in his ear. All he knew was the feel and the press of his body against him.
Sammy came suddenly, screaming out his release as white hot jets of come shot in spasms from his cock. He could feel John’s come inside of him and he clenched tight, hoping to keep every morsel inside when he pulled out. Sure enough, when John’s softening cock slipped from his ass, not a single drop escaped. Sammy felt strangely proud of himself.
“Damn, Sammy,” John whispered, nuzzling his neck. There was no doubting the pleased note in his voice. “What the hell was that?”
A distraction, Sammy thought.
“You ready for round two,” he asked instead, a Dean-like smirk on his face and an unmistakable glint in his eye.
Chapter 4: His Dean
It doesn't matter what form Dean's in; it's still the same Dean and Castiel wants nothing more than to own him...
Castiel stood in the doorway and nearly blushed at the sight in front of him. Dean left with Sam nearly two hours before to question the locals about whatever Hunt they’d involved themselves in; John and Sammy were gone as well, though he wasn’t altogether sure where, leaving him completely alone with Dee. He should have expected this, should have known that Dean, in any shape or form, would be just as bold and straightforward in his advances. Sadly, he hadn’t anticipated this course of action and was entirely flustered when he entered cabin to the sight of Dee unabashedly pleasuring himself, moaning into the sheets of the single bed, flushed from head to toe in arousal.
It should have shamed him to realize that he found himself similarly aroused, as seen by his growing erection, at the sight he’d walked in on, but no shame came to him, only the anticipation of burying himself in the silky wet heat he’d only recently begun to utilize.
He and Dean had just started the tryst they were currently on, but it had awakened Castiel’s libido, much to his surprise. It didn’t matter that Dee was only sixteen, that he had not bottomed extensively before this time, or that it may technically be in the realm of ‘cheating’ if his Dean was not in the room. Castiel was going to have Dee if it killed him.
“Cas,” Dee groaned, gasping as he arched his back in pleasure, hand gripping his cock so tightly, Cas though it had to hurt, but he stroked himself slowly like Cas knew he liked and he needed to be in Dee yesterday.
Cas walked to the edge of the bed, shedding his clothing instantaneously, not bothering with any foreplay. Dee was on edge enough as it was without making him wait, not that Cas was any better. His cock was hard leaking, like it could only get when he saw Dean this way. It really didn’t seem to matter to him what Dean looked like. He could see his soul, the same one his Dean had, and that made all the difference. This was the same person, even if it wasn’t the same person. It was still Dean, no matter how small.
He knelt on the bed and pulled Dean toward him, parting his legs so he could scoot closer. His hands roamed Dean’s torso and chest, and he batted Dean’s hand away from his cock, not letting him touch. No, Dean wasn’t allowed to find pleasure unless it was with Cas inside him, wasn’t allowed to come unless it was with Cas’s permission. His Dean knew that, but this one needed to learn. Cas smiled when he realized just how fun it would be to teach him.
Dean gasped when Cas bent down and captured a nipple in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to pull a little before he let it slip through his teeth. He did the same to the other one, nipping, biting, licking, caressing, kissing, until Dean was a writhing mess under him.
Dean canted his hips upward, trying to find the friction he so desperately needed, but Cas didn’t give him an inch. He kept himself well away from Dean’s cock, not allowing the little Winchester to gain any leverage against him. Dean tried to reach down to pleasure himself again, but Cas was far from tolerant about such imprudence. He bit down on Dean’s hip, hard, nearly breaking skin, but not taking it further than the deep bruise that would appear. Then his hands found Dean’s and he pulled them up above his head, holding them still with his grace.
Dean didn’t seem to realize that his hands were bound without rope, or that Cas’s hands still roamed his body, he was so preoccupied with the equal mix of pleasure and frustration warring against each other for dominance. Then Cas’s finger was sinking into him, slick and probing, and it was all Dean could do not to scream in pleasure as his prostate was stimulated.
One finger became two, and the stretch was heaven. It was just enough to have Dean almost coming, but then two became three, and Dean’s erection flagged slightly with expectation of the pain that was sure to follow whenever he was stretched out as much.
Cas sensed Dean’s hesitation and stilled his fingers. He leaned over Dean, caressing his jaw with the hand not otherwise occupied, stroking his thumb over the eyelids Dean had clenched shut so tight. He wasn’t in pain, not yet Cas didn’t think, but he was still young, so there was always the possibility that it was too much for him to take right now.
“Open your eyes,” Cas said gently.
Dean looked at him, emerald eyes shining with fear, but there was trust deep down in there too, and that made all the difference to Castiel.
He lowered his lips to Dean’s, pressing some of his grace inside to soothe whatever aches and pains he felt. If he had it his way, Dean would never have to feel pain. The pain, he knew, would make Dean who he was, would make him his Dean, but what he wanted more than anything was to keep Dean safe and warm at his side. This would do, though, for now, this little bit of Cas’s grace to carry inside him, to soothe him when he felt pain.
When Dean’s hips resumed their canting, Cas knew the fear was gone, replaced only by the pleasure of Cas’s fingers inside of him. It wouldn’t be long now.
“More,” Dean gasped out. “Oh, God, please more. Please, Cas.”
And how could Cas even hope to say no to that? He lined up and pressed into Dean slowly, wanting to take his time with this younger version of Dean that had fallen into his lap, quite literally it seemed, until he bottomed out. Dean’s muscles clenched and unclenched around him, trying desperately to coax his orgasm from him, and Cas enjoyed the pleasure of it for a while, just sitting still inside of Dean until Dean whimpered so prettily that Cas had to move.
He pulled out and drove in deep with firm and steady thrusts of his hips. He released Dean’s arms and they immediately wrapped around his neck to bring Cas down for a kiss. Dean’s lips were soft and moist when they pressed against Cas’s, insistent on parting just enough for Dean to sneak his tongue out to taste. Cas shivered as he drove his hips down again, Dean gasping against his mouth, and Cas could feel Dean’s breath against him, coming faster with every thrust, bringing him up, up, until he spilled between them, coating both of their stomachs with his release.
Cas thrust deep inside Dean and stilled, coming then as Dean’s muscles contracted with his orgasm, clamping down on his cock, milking his release from him. Cas turned to the side as he collapsed, pulling out of Dean with a wince as his oversensitive cock was stimulated. Then Dean was above him, straddling his hips with a smile that could cure a thousand diseases. When his lips met Cas’s, gentle and chaste in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Cas knew that, no matter what form Dean came to him in, he would always be his Dean, even if he wouldn’t remember who Cas was after this.
Chapter 5: Two Whole Days
Just a little plot to finish off the story for those of you who actually read the first chapter instead of skipping to the good stuff :)
John woke up at the crack of noon. Sleeping so late wasn’t something he did normally, but then again, he didn’t normally spend three days straight clearing a poltergeist out of a house. Normally, it was a couple-of-hours type of job, but this one had been particularly bad. A three hundred year old poltergeist and at least five dozen—that he’d found—victims all in the same house, fueling the thing… it was bad.
It was gone now, though. He and his boys had taken care of it in a few days, no harm, no foul except for a lack of sleep they’d just taken care of. He wrote a quick note and left it on the door, slipping out of the hotel room to grab breakfast and some much needed coffee.
“Hey, Sucherman!” the hotel manager called just as John was getting into the Impala. “Check out’s in five minutes. I need the keys.”
John’s brow creased in confusion. They were paid through the week, until Saturday, two more days from now.
“We’re paid through Saturday,” John said.
“Today is Saturday,” the manager said, tone adding whatever derogatory statement he so obviously wanted to make. “If you wanna stay longer it’s gonna be another fifty for the night.”
John glanced over at the newspaper dispenser and saw the day’s date stamped clearly on the front. Two days. They’d slept for two days. What the hell?! Completely impossible, but then again, they’d been dead tired. Hadn’t gotten any sleep pretty much all week, what with that damn coin keeping them up all hours of the night and then the poltergeist. Was it any wonder they’d slept for so long?
“You gonna stay or not?” the manager asked again, impatient with John’s revelation.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “We’ll stay another night.” They could get a move on in the morning.