It was like Christmas morning when John came home from a hunt to find his baby all alone. He was old, his body tired and not as easy to command as it was in his twenties, but he could still get it up pretty consistently for Dean. Not like it was ever hard with him, he just had to flash John that cocky, lopsided grin and flutter his eyelashes and that was it. It was just up to his cock if he was going to fuck Dean six ways ‘til Sunday or if he’d let his boy take the reins.
It was a late morning in November when John crept into their motel room, having left the kids to themselves while he checked out a possible sighting up in Manistique. He’d only been gone a week, but Dean and Sam always anticipated him being gone a while, leaving him the perfect opportunity to surprise Dean when he did come home. This morning was no exception: Dean was sprawled on the bed nearest the door, lying on top of the covers and dressed like he’d just taken Sam to school and come right back to get an extra hour of shut-eye. The boy didn’t get enough sleep, John knew that very well, but who in their line of work got a solid eight hours every night?
While he felt for his boy, John was pent-up and could only truly focus on one thing. Dean definitely hadn’t intended to present himself, but the way he’d pulled one of his legs up had the result of curving his lower back and popping his ass out had John second-guessing. He stepped closer to the bed, rapping his knuckles on the end table; a knock on wood that his boy was ready for him.
John pressed the alarm button on the clock, shocking Dean awake. He rose quickly, eyes wide and every muscle going wire-taut as he got up on the heels of his palms. Squirrely little bastard, always had been. Recognition didn’t flash in his eyes until he’d been staring at John for a solid ten seconds, really taking in the old, unwashed man at his bedside. He relaxed as much as he could while his chest was still rising and falling, settling on his elbows and watching John with a small smile on his pretty face.
“Mornin’, baby.”
“Dad,” Dean’s voice was soft and low. John wanted to hear that voice right in his ear as he moved Dean on his cock.
“Took your brother to school already?” He fingered the collar of Dean’s flannel shirt, liking the way his cheeks started to flush with his touch.
Dean nodded, flicking his tongue across his bottom lip as he glanced between his daddy’s hands and his hard face. “He’s gonna be happy to see you.”
He’d be damned if Dean didn’t try his best to mediate, even when Sam was away.
“Well, I’m very happy to see you, baby. And I bet you’re happy to see me, too.”
John slid his hand between Dean’s thighs, radiating pure heat. He dragged a finger across the seam of his jeans and got Dean to whimper, biting his bottom lip as John continued to touch him. Always a tease. Sometimes John pictured him as one of those 40s pin-up girls, coyly seductive and fully aware of it. He couldn’t tell if that was just Dean, or if he intentionally did it to make his daddy hard. Dean had to know how much power he had over John when he looked at him like that.
He got onto the bed, pulling Dean’s pants off and tugging his boxers halfway down his thighs. Dean was breathing hard, excited by John’s rough treatment, glad to get manhandled by his daddy. Like he expected, he was soaking wet, a dark gray patch in his underwear greeting John. He turned Dean over onto his knees, exposing his pretty, puckered little hole to John. It looked impossible for him to stretch to accommodate his daddy’s cock but John knew better—Dean had been able to fit him since he was thirteen.
“How long’s it been since you jerked off?” Dean gyrated his hips, showing off his tight little ass and pussy while John pulled himself out of his boxers.
“Days. Been saving it all for you, Dean.”
His cock was harder than he’d gotten in months, throbbing and seeking the tight heat between Dean’s perky cheeks. John grabbed his shaft and rubbed his length along Dean’s slit to lube himself up, not wanting to wait if Dean had to grab the stuff in his bag. He sighed at the touch, raising his shoulders in pleasure. Dean was practically gushing and only a few strokes left John decently lubricated.
He lined himself up with Dean’s hole, circling the head of his cock around the small, puckered ring of muscle. John pushed in with no further hesitation and was overjoyed in hearing Dean moan for him. If he was aching for lube he didn’t complain. He gripped the sheets and breathed hard, his body shaking as John fucked into him with ease. Dean rolled his hips and leaned back into John, his back pressed against his daddy’s chest.
John grabbed Dean’s thigh and spread his legs apart, getting a sharp exhale out of his boy. His forehead fell against the pillow, hiding his pretty, blushing face from John’s view. He kept his hips up though, such a good boy for his daddy. John dug his fingers into his freckled skin and fucked into him until he was balls-deep in his baby, Dean moaning hoarsely with each inch that stretched his ass.
“Fuck,” he grunted, breathing hard and canting back onto John’s cock.
John pulled his hips back and thrust in hard, making Dean fall gracelessly onto his chest. The sounds that came out of the kid were fantastic, like he was born to be John’s perfect little fucktoy, though he hadn’t regretted showing him those pornos when he was younger. His tongue was magic, even if he most liked using it to be a smartass. John grinned and lapped his tongue up his boy’s sweaty nape. Dean tasted like salt and soap from his shower, Axe or Irish Spring clinging to his clammy skin. He shuddered and arched his back as his daddy licked stripes around to the side of his throat.
“I bet you’ve been waiting all week for this, baby.” John slipped his hand between Dean’s thighs and cupped his pussy with one palm. White hot and wet, slicking John’s fingers even before he pushed past his tight lips, it made him happy to know that his baby wasn’t whoring himself out to anyone who so much as took a glance at him.
He knew about Sam, he’d known for quite a few years now that he and Dean fooled around when they thought he wasn’t looking, but they couldn’t make any babies so he never felt the urge to get in between the two of them. Only meant they’d be better hunters, the way they were bonded. Closer than brothers or lovers and better at looking out for each other than the average hunting partners. Also meant that Dean had practice taking cock and wouldn’t need much preparation for John to fuck him. A little bit of lube and Dean was able to sink down into his daddy’s lap without too much pain, just a lotta soreness in the morning. John felt a surge of pride seeing Dean power through it, though, always determined to go even if he was aching.
Dean rocked back onto John, gripping at the paper-thin sheets and panting hard with each thrust into his stuffed ass. John gripped at his cheeks, nice and padded but not so much so that John couldn’t comfortably palm them. There was just enough flesh for him to shove out of the way to see just how far he was stretching Dean’s hole, pinkish-brown and slightly puffy but nowhere close to overused. He wanted him gaping and dripping come when he was done with him.
“Yes, Daddy,” he moaned, slipping one hand clumsily between his thighs and slipping his own wide fingers inside his pussy.
John had caught Dean masturbating more times than he could count on two hands, the boy couldn’t keep his hands out of his pants. His unmatched libido was another reason why John was perfectly fine sharing him with Sam—it took a village to get his son off and he was happy to unload some of the burden. Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t get a bit jealous thinking about Dean riding Sam’s cock or sucking him off before he had to take him to school. He grabbed Dean hard and pulled him back viciously on his cock, milking a halting breath out of his boy.
Dean took dick like a bitch in heat, even when John popped his cherry he didn’t chicken out, no matter how much it hurt having Daddy stretch his virginal hole for the first time. He hadn’t bled, but he overcompensated trying not to walk funny for two days afterward, and once the pain subsided he was back in Daddy’s bed, begging for him to do it again. Even barely awake he was fucking like it was his life’s mission, and John loved him for it.
“Faster, I’ve been waiting since six,” Dean panted, rocking back onto John’s cock with a fevered determination.
“Poor baby,” John laughed and drove himself hard into Dean’s ass. His boy whimpered and his legs trembled, almost falling out from under him. He managed to keep himself upright but only barely, arching his back and moving against John.
Dean moaned low, almost gravelly, that way he’d been faking a deep voice since he was about ten. Kid might have had a bit of an ego problem, but he was still alive and kicking so he wasn’t too worried. Shit self-esteem wouldn’t kill him, he was pretty sure nothing could kill his boy.
John grabbed Dean’s hips and slid him up and down his shaft like a blowup doll gained sentience. He didn’t need the extra assistance, he’d taken him cowgirl before and he was more than happy to do all the work even when John’s legs were left numb after a hunt. It just felt good to hold him; solid, dependable Dean.
He wouldn’t last much longer deep in his boy, his above all else. John felt lightheaded, his balls tightening with every gasping breath and moan Dean made. He didn’t know when he’d see Dean next, he had to savor the way he moved, the downright weird expressions he pulled when John was trying to force himself deeper than Dean went, the way he called him “Daddy” like it was a secret. John guessed it was, but he couldn’t tell how much Sam knew or if he was blissfully unaware of how they were both using Dean.
“You’re mine,” he moaned against Dean’s ear, digging his nails into his hips. “You’ll always be mine, won’t you, baby?”
Dean nodded, eyes squeezing shut as he bounced back onto his daddy’s cock.
“Always. I promise.”
John thrust in balls deep as he came, making sure he’d come as deep inside his baby as he could. A brand deep inside Dean’s ass that only he knew existed, though John wouldn’t be upset if it was as plain as a tattoo on his forehead. His boy whined but forced himself to stay upright, to take all of John’s come without spilling a drop. John was glad that he’d taught his boy to value every single ounce of come like it might be the last.
He was coming down already if he managed to start thinking about his mortality while he was still half-hard inside Dean. Whatever, he forced the thought back until it stopped bugging him. Now, he was fixated on his baby, sweaty and trembling and showing off his abused little hole, now puffy and slightly red, for John to really take in. He leaned forward and nipped at Dean’s earlobe, making him exhale a shuddering gasp. Always receptive, always eager to please Daddy.
John rewarded Dean by stroking his pussy, using slick fingers to rub at his clit and make him shudder. He was dribbling clear slick, practically begging for him to pull right out of his ass and fuck his pussy. There was no risk, but John liked to save Dean’s pussy for special occasions. He didn’t want to end up bored with it.
When he was sure all of the aftershocks of Dean’s orgasm were through, he pulled himself out, practically falling out of his ass and leaving his boy to slump onto the bed. Dean looked like his bones had been boiled into Jello, limp and loose on the bed and reeking of his and his daddy’s sweat. John was proud of him, feeling that unmistakable swell in his chest like when he’d first hit all three cans learning to shoot.
“You were good, Dean. Very good.” He got up, putting his dick back into his boxers and zipping his fly.
He’d be gone in a few hours and he needed a shower and a meal post catch-up. John went into the bathroom to turn the water on, hoping it’d be at least lukewarm but anticipating a quick, deeply uncomfortable rinse. He only caught a quick glance of himself in the unwashed mirror but found that he looked surprisingly lively for someone who’d been walking like he was wearing lead shoes before getting to the motel. For all he knew, the kid was the fountain of youth.
Dean had already flopped over onto his back before John came back in and watched him with half-lidded eyes. Little slut. All his. He tipped his head to the side, cheeks dewy and blushing, and he stared at John like he was a professional Sharon Stone impersonator. Practiced beyond his years, barely even lifting a finger to get John to regret pulling out so soon.
“Fuck me again before you leave?” He spread his thighs, showing off that pretty pink pussy like John had any hope of resisting. Maybe he’d make an exception, pound it until he left Dean too sore to jerk himself off later.
He stepped back to the side of the bed and stroked the inside of Dean’s thigh, a nonverbal promise that if he could get it up again, he would. John would get gas station dick pills if he was struggling. Anything so he could fill his boy to the brim with his own come, a little reminder of what he was missing when it was just him and Sam.