Fic for thought...

Goodbye LiveJournal, Hello Dreamwidth

2022-03-01T15:37:26Z

So it looks like the crosspost from Dreamwidth didn't work, long story short, we put up with a lot of changes on this platform, and not all for the better, such as the change in ToS that threatened to remove as much LGBTQIA+ content as possible, which thankfully didn't seem to happen. We've had repeated password breaches over the time I've been on LJ (about 17 years with general fandom, writing and sock accounts), DDoS attacks, R*ssian ads all over the place which sometimes even showed with a paid account to name a few. The political situation atm is the final straw for a lot of people, and the time has come to move to a non R*ssian site.

I will keep this journal open as an archive for my fics - which is 99% of my content anyway - and for the time being use as a resource for comms, challenges, tracking kink memes etc. If I can do all of that on DW (where comms have the same content) then I'll reconsider keeping this journal open.

Other places you can find me are below, even though I'm not very active atm.

Archive of Our Own
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Dreamwidth

In the words of Fall Out Boy, Thnks fr th Mmrs.

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Supernatural: Your Pain, My Thrill (gen, Belphegor, Castiel)

2021-10-24T11:22:16Z

Title: Your Pain, My Thrill
Pairing: None,
Characters: Belphegor, Castiel
Rating: M
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my words
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Torture/whump
Summary: Written for this prompt at the spn_masquerade: "Canon divergence, Belphegor fights back and overpowers Cas in Hell. Canon level hatred of angels taken to the next level, he beats, tortures, humiliates and degrades Cas, because after all he's just "an abomination in that stupid, dumb trenchcoat". Go nuts, a demon doesn't get their hands on an angel very often after all. Be as violent and bloodthirsty as you like, there's eons old hate there, make us feel it!"

Read on AO3 if you prefer.

Seeing the look of shock on Castiel's face when Belphegor overpowers him is priceless. Had he not been able to lay his hand on one of the magical knicknacks he owns and use a non verbal spell to hijack the flare in angelic grace to magnify his own powers, the demon couldn’t have fought back as quick and hard as he did, but with that on his side he was able to put a halt to the would-be smiting.

“You’re pathetic,” Belphegor spits, tightening his hand around the angel’s throat, “so washed up you can’t even kill a demon properly. No wonder you’re a laughing stock in Hell and Heaven, Castiel.” He uses his power to throw the meatsuit across the room, the crack of skull hitting stone is like music to his demonic ears. He watches with delight as a trail of blood is left behind on the wall as the body slumps down, pain etched across the abomination in a trenchcoat’s features.

He bends to pick up the angel blade from where it lies on the floor and stands in front of the limp figure, “Hey, Feathers, look at me,” he says, watching dazed eyes flicker open and closed. When he gets no reply, he raises his foot and brings the heel down hard, shattering Castiel’s kneecap, the pain instantly registering and causing a distressed cry to make its way out of the throat that’s already developing bruises. He crouches in front of the winged filth and digs the tip of the blade into the tender skin under his chin, jerking his arm up hard enough that it could pierce flesh and kill the angel there and then, but he knows with certainty that Castiel will fight, and that’s exactly what he wants. Glassy blue orbs struggle to focus on him, defiance bleeding through the dizziness, “I’m going to ruin you,” Belphegor sing songs, “humans are fun to break but an angel of the lord? That’s going to be an absolute pleasure.”

Angels and demons have hated each other since The Beginning and Belphegor really hates this particular one, in no small part because he stole Dean Winchester from Hell, disrupting an already fragile political balance and changing things. The feathery fucker opens his mouth to no doubt spit out some useless insult, but he’s cut off by the dull thud of a punch to his jaw. A tingle runs up Belphegor’s arm, the angle is awkward because it’s not his dominant hand he’s using, that one still pressing the blade hard against skin, but he makes it work. He repeats the action three more times, punching hard until his skin is finally slipping against the blood dripping from Castiel’s lips and cheek.

The angel twists his body to try and even the score but Belphegor catches the punch easily, before headbutting the thing hard enough for his skull to collide with the wall, again. Another grunt of pain from the angel and a satisfied smirk spreads over the demon’s face, “Keep fighting me, Cas, it’ll only make it sweeter when I break you,” he says, switching the blade to his left hand, wrapping that stupid fucking tie around his right and tugging hard, “come on, boy,” he coos, standing and using his strength to all but drag Castiel across the floor, “be a good doggy and heel.” The choking sounds of protest he gets in response as the angel struggles are only bettered by the pained whimpers as he’s forced to crawl on his shattered knee to avoid being strangled, completely.

He drags the angel in circles around the room a few times like the dog he is, alternating between kicks to the kidneys and punches to the head and face when he doesn’t move quick enough, the anguished cries only spurring Belphegor on. By the time he has the bloody and beaten figure struggling to stay upright he loosens his grip on the tie, crouches down in front of where Castiel kneels on the floor and drags the angel blade across his neck, making a small but deep cut, humming as he watches the silvery wisps of grace drip from the wound.

“How long will it take to drain you?” he asks, knowing he won’t get an answer in words, only a glare that’s about as intimidating as a Chihuahua puppy, “Hmm, how about…” he pulls a small knife with a sharp, jagged blade from his pocket and buries it into Castiel’s stomach, drawing it back slowly and at an angle knows will cause the most excruciating pain, “now?” he asks, with glee, watching the red stain on the now grubby white shirt grow bigger by the second as blood seeps from the deep wound. A flick of his wrist, the extra power running through him allowing him to drag the meat suit up to a standing position, and the stain getting bigger with the movement. The volume of the pained whimpers the angel is trying to hide increases, but it’s pointless him trying to keep them in, soon his screams will echo around the room at Belphegor’s hands and he’ll be begging for mercy.

The demon’s eyes flick to the angel’s face which is already sweating and streaked in dirt and blood, which is delicious but it’s not enough. He cuts and rips open the fabric of the shirt, exposing pale, vulnerable flesh, then decides that to enjoy this fully he shouldn’t just limit himself to the torso and soon the meatsuit is naked as the day it was born, just to add an extra layer of humiliation. Castiel fancies he’s become more human with his time on Earth and when his eyes lower in shame, Bel knows it was the right call. He slices patterns into as much skin as possible from the angel’s scalp to the soles of his feet, the demon carving his own name and etching slurs written in Enochian deep into the skin. When he’s done with the surface, he repeatedly drives the knife deep into flesh, muscles, vital and non vital organs, making use of the hooks of the blade to cause the most damage possible, Castiel’s agonised screams sending a thrill through him that’s almost orgasmic, and this, this is why Belphegor loves his job.

He raises the sagging body of the abomination a few inches off the ground and leaves him suspended in the air with just a thought, that’s how powerful he is right now. As he watches the rise and fall of the skinny chest as his plaything gasps for breath, Bel runs his fingers through the rivulets of blood pouring from the wounds, making sure to push the digits roughly into some of them just to feel the slippery, wet heat of the angel’s insides. A human would have passed out long before this point, but Belphegor’s never had the pleasure of tormenting an angel and pushing the boundaries of their healing abilities, so he’s certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Must suck to be the Winchester’s disgraced pet, huh?” he asks with mock concern, trying his best to mimic what he’s sure would be puppy dog eyes if Jack’s body still had those particular organs. He watches as the angel struggles to comprehend the change from actions to words and carries on, amused, “I guess you’re used to it after all this time, though,” he adds with a smirk, before turning and walking over to the table at the side of the room.

He lays both the angel blade and his dagger down so he can sprinkle ingredients into a brass bowl, making sure to face his subject as he does so that he can watch the confused expression on that incredibly irritating visage. He carries on speaking, knowing that even with the amount of pain Castiel is in, the words will cut just as deep as the blade just did, especially when the demon uses his own words against him, “‘Sam and Dean are just using you, don’t mistake that for caring about you, because I can assure you, they don’t.' I mean, come on, how many times do they need to choose each other over you before you finally get the message? Talk about a third wheel… like I said, pathetic.” Castiel’s brow creases, predictably shaking his head in denial, but they both know he’s touched a very raw nerve. To add further insult to injury he has to make a comment about Jack, “And of course there’s...” he sweeps a hand through the air in an exaggerated way to indicate the vessel he’s possessing, smirking when the battered face across from him pinches even more, “he deserved so much better than you, Castiel, some father you turned out to be, huh? Jack died on your watch, just another epic fail to add to your tally, I guess.” The demon lets out a wicked laugh at the heartbroken look on Feathers’ face, the truth really does hurt.

He hums a happy tune to himself as he double checks the contents of the bowl, grinding the dry ingredients to a powder before adding a dribble of his own blood and little holy oil for extra kick before he moves back towards the centre of the room, bowl and dagger in hand. He jerks his head to the side a little and Castiel’s arm rises, Belphegor wasting no time slicing his wrist open, smirking at the harsh wince it causes while he watches the blood pour over the mixture. Begrudgingly he admits only to himself that he’s a little impressed by the fight that Wings still has in him, but that won’t last long. He swirls the blood around in the bowl, dropping the limb with a nod, thrilled when drips of red start to form a pool on the floor below, a clear sign that angelic healing isn’t going to spoil the fun. The demon digs the tip of the blade into the semi-closed cut on Castiel’s neck and twists, tearing the flesh open anew to increase the flow of grace, catching a few drops in the bowl and watching more float off into the air, more evidence that the abomination is weakening. A few more swirls and the mixture is complete, already glowing an angry red and rippling, ready to explode.

Sure enough, seconds later there’s a flash of silvery blue light, a puff of purple smoke and as it drifts over towards Castiel, the demon leans in and stage whispers, “Not gonna lie to you Cas, this is gonna sting.” Pain glazed eyes meet his evil ones and Belphegor bounces on the soles of Jack’s feet in anticipation as the smoke is drawn in through the angel’s mouth and nose. Almost instantly his head drops back and there’s a blood curdling scream as agony takes over his whole body, twisting and turning where it’s held in mid air, tears streaming down his cheeks to mix with the blood already there. Every visible cut on Castiel’s body is glowing purple, the air filled with the smell of coppery blood, salty tears and sulphur as the spell gets to work, and when Belphegor smears the leftover paste over pain sweaty skin and inside the wounds, the distinctive scent of cooking flesh is added into the mix. The demon basks in it, occasionally strengthening his mental hold on Castiel’s body while the thing still has fight left in him, but the light is already going out, even an angel can only stand so much.

Stepping forward and roughly grabbing the angel’s chin to force him to look at the face of his torturer masquerading as his surrogate son, Belphegor taunts him further, “You know, Cas, I’m tempted to say, ‘Oh would you just die, already?’ but,” he jabs a thumb over his shoulder towards the doorway, “there’s a perfectly good cage out there, and I think it’s time I had my own pet.”

Part of him thinks he should take the wonderful win he already has, but he is a demon after all, and he can’t resist retrieving his dagger and driving it into the body that’s fast falling into unconsciousness. There’s still grunts of pain with every stab though they probably feel like pinpricks compared to the rest of what Castiel is feeling, but again, demon, and he twists the knife one last time before dropping the self righteous prick to the floor in a crumpled heap.

As Belphegor’s blade drips red with the blood of his most hated enemy, more of it in small pools on the floor and sprayed on the walls, his own thunders through Jack’s veins at the glorious sight before him. He may have been just a grunt before Hell tore open, but now, with the infamous angel who disobeyed nothing more than a filthy, cowering mess at his feet, he feels like the ‘God’ he aims to become.

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Supernatural: Youthful Indiscretions (Weecest, nc-17)

2021-04-15T12:42:34Z

Title: Youthful Indiscretions
Pairing: Sam/Dean (Weecest)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Underage (possibly extreme, Sam is 12), sibling incest, somnophilia, non-con, first time, wet dreams.
Summary: After lying next to Sam for what feels like days, it’s finally time. As soon as his baby brother’s breathing changes to signal the start of the dreams the kid’s been having the past few weeks, Dean’s cock is rock hard in a matter of seconds. He knows it’s all kinds of fucked up to be turned on by Sam having wet dreams, but he’s only human, a teenager with raging hormones of his own and the beautiful sounds Sam makes, the breathy little moans and whimpers he lets out while he thrashes about in pleasure, are just too hard to resist. Nobody will ever know, Dad’s on a hunt and Sam’s dead to the world, it’s just Dean and his conscience, and honestly by this point he’s resigned to the fact he’s going to Hell, someday, anyway.

A/N: Inspired by this GIF of Colin Ford, who gives us perfect Weecest fodder as young Sam. Although I cannot be 100% certain, my research puts Colin around the same age as Sam in the fic, he kinda looked 12 for about 4 years so sometimes it's hard to tell with him! Don't click if you're in any way uncomfortable with that.

After lying next to Sam for what feels like days, it’s finally time. As soon as his baby brother’s breathing changes to signal the start of the dreams the kid’s been having the past few weeks, Dean’s cock is rock hard in a matter of seconds. He knows it’s all kinds of fucked up to be turned on by Sam having wet dreams, but he’s only human, a teenager with raging hormones of his own and the beautiful sounds Sam makes, the breathy little moans and whimpers he lets out while he thrashes about in pleasure, are just too hard to resist.

At first Dean did nothing but remain stock still in bed next to Sam, a little shocked at being woken by his brother panting and moaning into his neck, skinny hips rocking to unknowingly rub his cock against Dean’s thigh until he was coming, wet warmth seeping through two or three layers of cotton, slick and sticky over both of their skin. The next couple of weeks he found himself less shocked and more turned on, until he’s got to this stage. Now he goes to bed on edge every night, the low thrum of arousal singing in his blood at the thought of being able to watch Sammy in a way he can’t allow himself in the light of day. Tonight is different, though, despite how much he hates himself for even thinking about it, Dean will finally get to touch as well as look. He came close last night, and several nights before that, somehow managing to keep his hands to himself, but he knows he’s fighting a losing battle and he just can’t wait any longer. Nobody will ever know, Dad’s on a hunt and Sam’s dead to the world, it’s just Dean and his conscience, and honestly by this point he’s resigned to the fact he’s going to Hell, someday, anyway.

“Sammy?” he rasps, barely above a whisper even though he knows the kid is out of it. He waits a few beats before saying his brother’s name again, his heart beating quicker in nervous excitement when there’s no response. As carefully as he can he pushes the covers off his own body, leaving them draped over Sam’s waist for now, in his final battle against himself. He sits up and shuffles down the bed so his ass is level with Sam’s knees, watching for a few moments to make sure the movement hasn't woken the younger boy. There's a slight hitch in Sam's breath as his hips shift under the covers, body seeking friction that’s not there, and the thought that tonight he can provide it with something more than his hip or thigh makes Dean's cock throb. His hand shakes when he reaches out to lift the covers away from Sam, letting the sheet bunch up between them as he drinks in the sight.

There’s enough light coming from the lamp on Sam’s side of the bed to cast a glow over his features without being bright enough to wake him, and Dean’s incredibly grateful for it. He doesn’t want some fumble in the dark, he can get that from the girls at school, Sammy is special and more precious than anything else. The boy’s lying on his right side, face half buried into the pillow and there’s already a fine sheen of sweat breaking out at Sammy’s hairline and above his top lip. His eyes are moving rapidly under the lids, long eyelashes fanned out over his cheekbones above flushed, baby smooth skin. Dean’s eyes linger on his brother’s mouth, so soft and luscious looking, candy pink lips open slightly and the older boy can’t help but wonder how his cock would look smearing pre-come over them before slipping between them into the hot cavern he’s seen so many popsicles and lollipops go into. He lets out a frustrated moan at the thought of it, his dick throbbing more insistently, totally on board with the idea, but that’s not for tonight.

He sweeps his eyes over Sam’s lock, inviting neck and down to his chest where he watches the rise and fall of it as the kid’s breathing is coming faster. The ratty old t-shirt Sam wore to bed has risen up, showing his belly, still rounded with the last vestiges of puppy fat over forming muscles, then down to the tented cotton of his boxers, thin fabric stretching over his hard cock, obviously smaller than Dean’s and God he desperately wants to see what Sammy’s packing these days. It makes his mouth water just thinking about how much he could fit in, whether he’d be able to choke on it, yet, or whether he’d have to wait a year or two for that.

Movement in the corner of his eye draws his attention to Sam’s hand, twitching on the pillow next to his head, and Dean marvels at the size of it. Sure, the kid’s had another growth spurt and he’s all out of proportion at times, but it’s a big hand and again the older boy’s eyes flick to Sammy’s dick, the image of those long, elegant fingers wrapped it, or better still around both of their cocks at once has a moan falling from his lips. With a surge of panic Dean’s eyes flick back up to his brother’s face but there’s no change, he’s still sound asleep. Letting out a sigh of relief he gets back to the task of looking at Sam’s body, he’s done teasing himself any longer.

Another rock of slim hips and Dean’s gaze trail down to Sam’s long legs, skinny but lean, creamy, untouched skin half in shadows. As if his brother’s thoughts are in sync with his even in sleep, Sam’s left leg shifts, exposing more tantalizing skin between his thighs and Dean wants to lean in and nuzzle, to feel the heat and breathe in Sam’s smell. He licks his lips, almost able to imagine young boy sweetness, fresh sweat saltiness combined with the heady scent of emerging hormones that seems to be oozing from his brother’s pore more and more every day. His cock twitches at the thought and he feels the wet heat of his damp boxers clinging to the head of it where he’s leaking. The ache is almost unbearable and he cups himself through the cotton, fingers squeezing and stroking gently to try and relieve some of the pressure.

A soft moan echoes in the room and he’s not sure which of them made the sound because Sam’s hips twitch again, boxers dragging over his cock and pulling tight where the too baggy cotton is trapped under his thigh. Even in half darkness Dean can see the outline of his brother’s dick, the head becoming more visible as the damp spot on the cotton sticks to it, acting like a flashing neon sign saying look at me, not that Dean can look anywhere but Sam these days. His own breath hitches as Sam’s becomes more ragged, his stomach muscles clenching as he rocks a little faster. The movement makes his boxers slip down to reveal the soft V of a skinny hip and Dean can’t stop himself reaching out, gently resting his hand on it, fingertips lightly gripping as his thumb strokes the soft skin over the bone and inches towards his belly. His hand looks huge on Sam’s smaller frame, and this time the moan is definitely Dean’s. A groan from Sam draws his eyes back up, a small frown creasing the kid’s forehead, cheeks a little more flushed and his throat becoming slick with sweat as he half rolls onto his back before turning back to his original position. It won’t be long before he starts properly moaning and thrashing, Dean knows, so he has to move things along.

A ragged breath from Sam sounds like Heaven to Dean, his brother’s mouth open a little more, now, choked little sounds coming from his throat and his whole body starts to tense a little, long fingers twitching on the pillow. Slipping his hand down from Sam’s hip Dean hooks his fingers around the waistband of the kid’s boxers pulling them down to mid thigh, tugging a little harder that he’d like to, but he times it just right when Sam rolls a little, allowing him to free them from underneath his other side so that the kid’s cock springs free with a wet thud against his lower belly. Dean freezes, heart hammering in his chest in fear that Sam will wake, but all he does is breathe a little heavier and faster, skinny arm reaching out to where his brother would normally lie, his fingers gripping the sheet instead of Dean’s t-shirt. If the older boy has foregone the piece of fabric on more than a few occasions just to feel the heat of Sam's hand on his chest, then that's his business, and so is running one hand over the scratch marks made by blunt nails as he wraps his hand around his cock, getting himself off quickly while Sam’s cleaning up and none the wiser.

Dean lets out the breath he was holding and trails his fingers up the back of Sam’s thigh before running them up and over the curve of his ass, giving it a slight squeeze. The skin is warm and soft under his hand, the muscle both supple then firm as the boy shifts his hips, clenching slightly with the effort, and Dean’s mind immediately supplies him with the image of cupping both of those cheeks in his hands while he guides Sam’s small frame up and down on his cock, “Fuck!” he rasps as new wave of heat sweeps through his body at the thought. Until that moment he’s never actually thought about fucking Sam, he’s probably too young to know that's something guys do, his body too fragile for Dean to consider, but now it’s there he can’t breathe he’s so turned on by the picture they’d paint, that now it’s all he can think about. Soon, he hears in the back of his mind, very soon.

He looks between both of his hands, one wrapped around his cock through his boxers, the other still covering Sam’s pert ass, jumping slightly when his brother moves, one leg shifting higher, parting his cheeks enough to draw Dean’s eyes to the shadowy crevice. Heart beating even faster he lets go of his dick and slips his hand under Sam’s knee and lifts it a little more, eyes flicking to Sam’s face to make sure yet again he’s still out of it before pushing up as far as he dares. Carefully he cups both cheeks and spreads the small globes apart, his breath catching when it’s enough to give him a glimpse of the tight virgin hole between them. He can’t help brushing his thumb over it, which is a mistake because as soon as he does he knows it’s not enough, he needs to know what it would be like to push something inside, right now. He pulls his hands back immediately, feeling a little sick with himself at the thought, but at the same time his cock throbs and his shorts are sopping wet where he’s leaking even more.

Time seems to stand still as he gives himself another couple of strokes, his still shaky hand hovering above Sam’s thigh, watching the play of muscles as the boy’s rocking becomes more urgent and he knows he’s losing his chance, it’s now or never. It should be never his head screams that but his body screams now, instead. Leaning forward he slides his hand under the pillow for the tube of lube he stashed there earlier, though just watching and listening to his baby brother has had him leaking so much he's barely used any of the artificial slick in weeks, but now he’s glad it’s a habit he kept up.

His hands shake more as he squeezes some onto his fingers, rubbing it around to warm it before he shuffles closer to his brother, carefully parting his cheeks again. With an impatient sigh he reaches over to the lamp, the angle awkward because he’s twisting to use his left hand, but he manages to pull it closer to the edge of the nightstand enough to cast more light over Sam’s lower half without it falling off. Another look up shows his brother’s face is even more red and sweaty, clumps of hair starting to stick to his forehead and the collar of his baggy t-shirt damp. He’s close, Dean thinks, swallowing hard and strokes his middle finger over Sam’s hole. The skin is hot and as he rubs a circle around the rim he feels the contrast between wrinkled and smooth skin. His own breath is as ragged as Sam’s as he puts his left hand on the boy’s cheek to keep him spread open and applies a little pressure to the rim, spreading the lube around a little more, knowing in the back of his mind he can’t use too much or Sam will notice it, but he also doesn't want to hurt his brother so he rubs as much on as he can.

A small noise that could be pain or pleasure falls from Sam’s lips as the tip of his brother’s finger breaches him as far as the first knuckle. Dean lets out a whimper of his own at the feel of the flesh giving, the heat and tightness that surrounds the digit. He freezes in place, almost certain the boy will wake, but all he does is jerk his hips and let out more of those beautiful, breathy sounds. Carefully Dean pushes in a little deeper, marvelling at how smooth and hot Sam’s insides are, and suddenly he wonders what shade of pink his brother’s little hole would be after having thick fingers working it open enough for him to look inside. His own hips jerk forward at the next thought as he slowly draws his finger back out and in again in a slow corkscrew motion, wondering how puffy and red the rim would be after his cock had worked Sam open. He can feel his balls aching at that, knowing his own orgasm is close as he carefully pumps his finger in and out of Sam’s body in time with the movement of the kid’s hips. It feels like Sam’s ass is made to take him, even in his sleep he’s tipping his hips back to get his brother in deeper, his muscles fluttering around the intrusion and sucking him in.

From the desperate whines and harsh pants Sam’s making, the way he’s thrashing and scrambling at the sheets Dean knows his brother is about to blow his load very soon. Since he’s already so far down the path to the special kind of Hell, now, Dean goes for broke, reaching up with his free hand to cup Sam’s full balls, stroking over the nearly hairless skin, and up his dripping shaft, wet and slick from all the pre-come he’s leaked. He takes as firm of a grip as he dares, two of his fingertips able to tuck under his thumb where it wraps around Sam’s cock. The hard flesh is big enough to sit in his palm but not overstretch his fingers, and his breath catches again at how fucking hot it is. Sam’s gonna be big all over by the looks of it, just like Dean, and an odd sense of pride washes over him, Good boy, Sammy, he thinks.

He does his best to coordinate the movement of both hands, gently rubbing his thumb over the head of Sam’s scorching hot cock and careful not to let his finger go too deep or too fast into his brother’s ass because the last thing he ever wants to do is hurt him. Within seconds Sam’s hip buck wildly, his ass goes vice tight around his Dean’s finger and a low but unmistakable moan-sob of his brother’s name falls from his lips as the kid's slim cock shoots the first jet of come up onto his belly and chest.

Dean thinks he might have had a heart attack from the shock of hearing his own name if he hadn’t been too busy coming hard all over himself, pumping hard and wet into his boxers without a hand back on his own cock. He’s aware that a surprised noise and choked moan makes its way from his throat and he bites down hard on his bottom lip to stifle it as much as he can. He forces his eyes open to watch as the last dribbles of thin, pre-teen come slide down Sam’s cock and balls, soaking Dean’s fingers, palm and wrist, and the older boy can only stare in awe at the amount of it. It’s getting thicker every week, still not like his own but it won’t be long, and it looks like little Sammy didn’t get any alone time today judging by how much there is. A thrill runs through him at that, the fact that he’s been the one to help Sammy get such a load out makes him somehow proud, as well.

When Sam makes an uncomfortable noise and a new crease starts to form on his forehead signalling he’s feeling uncomfortable and starting to wake, Dean jumps into action, letting go of Sam’s cock like it’s burned him and as gently and as quickly as he can, slides his finger from the kid’s ass. He scrambles to pull Sam’s boxers up as much as he's able to, which in his uncoordinated state isn’t much. He quickly pulls Sam’s t-shirt down over his crotch and hopes the kid will just think he wriggled out of his shorts. When he hears the telltale of Sam’s breathing change again to indicate he’s semi-conscious, Dean throws himself belly down on the bed, wincing a little at the drag over his sensitive cock and the way his weight pushes his own load into his skin. He turns his head away from his brother and holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable, Sam being awake enough to recognise what’s happened and shuffle out of bed to clean himself up.

The older boy only lets out a breath only after he hears the bathroom door close. His heart races, adrenaline coursing through his veins at the thrill of almost being caught, at how good it was to finally touch Sam, as well as his own orgasm. He knows that tomorrow, when he wakes up with Sam cuddled up to him like a spider monkey clinging its mama, he'll feel guilty… but now he's had a taste, he also knows it will happen again.

Sam grips the edge of the sink, gulping down air as his whole body still trembles with the aftershocks of his orgasm. This dream was the most intense yet, it almost felt real, like Dean was actually stroking his cock and filling his ass in a way that Sam can only long for. He knows he’s sick, that something inside him is broken for wanting his brother the way he does, but when the dreams come he’s free to picture everything his young mind can imagine. Having heard filthy details directly from those sinful lips as Dean has whispered about his dates right into Sam’s ear, and he’s no doubt seen more porn than anyone else in his class, the youngest Winchester can imagine a lot. The possibilities are endless and he’s been jerking off to all kinds of scenarios for weeks, now, in the shower, in rest stop bathrooms, anywhere he needs to so he’s not constantly hard for his brother. There’s no way he’ll be able to hide the tent in his jeans at the merest hint of his brother's cheap cologne or the heat of his body only inches away for much longer. Eventually Dean will notice, then eventually Dean will hate him.

With a sigh he quickly slips off his soggy boxers, scrunches them up and wipes himself down. He must have come a lot more this time because up until tonight it’s nearly all been absorbed into the cotton of his shorts, but now he can feel the slick all under his balls, and unusually, between his cheeks. As he finishes the clean up job with a washcloth and dries himself off, he feels what he knows must be a phantom ache in his ass, like Dean had actually been inside him the way he’s imagined and hoped for countless times. Pulling on the clean pair of boxers he stashed in the cupboard under the sink earlier for this very scenario, he knows Dean wanting him like that is wishful thinking, there’s no way his brother would ever touch him, even though Sam would happily give Dean whatever he wants, but still a boy can dream.

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Supernatural fic: Within His Power (Sam/Dean, T)

2021-02-11T16:28:03Z

Title: Within His Power
Pairing: Supernatural, Sam/Dean
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Incest, inappropriate use of Jack's powers, dub-con, first time, mentions of bottom!Sam.
Summary: With most of his soul gone, Jack is done with Sam and Dean dancing around this thing between them and takes matters into his own hands.

Even before he started losing his soul, Jack could see there was something more between the Winchesters than regular brothers. He’s well aware that there’s nothing ‘regular’ about these men, their lives are unlike anyone else’s he’s ever heard of or read about. They’ve each been to Hell and back, they’re the guys who’ve saved the world multiple times and lost almost everyone they love in the process. The weight of that as well as unknown numbers of other people they couldn’t save is a heavier load than anyone should have to carry, yet they cope as best they can by splitting that load, sharing it between them like they share everything else. Well, almost everything else.

Maybe the soulmate bond is the underlying cause, the hand of destiny guiding them to each other in some way, but after months of observing them Jack believes there’s so much more to it, and even with his limited knowledge he knows it’s something very special. In all the books he’s read, the films, TV shows and documentaries he’s watched he knows other family relationships aren’t anything like this. Sam and Dean have given up everything for one another, forgiven each other for all kinds of wrongs, given their own lives and that’s not something regular siblings do. Parents sacrifice for their children all the time but the kind of devotion the brothers have to each other goes beyond that, it’s only ever seen in people who are completely and desperately in love, so much so that being without the other physically pains them.

Jack’s seen the way they look at each other, their love shining like a beacon, as well as the lust and longing in the glances they throw each other when they think nobody else can see. Now the time has come for Jack to take action because they obviously won’t do it themselves, both either too stubborn or too scared, probably both. He doesn’t see any harm in forcing their hands when it’s for their own good. It only took a flick of a couple of fingers to pin the taller man to the wall and keeping him there barely takes a thought, an additional flick and Dean wasn’t able to fight him any more than Sam was.

“We could have avoided this,” he says in a flat, almost bored sounding tone, “you’re making me do this because it’s the only way you’ll see what’s right in front of you.”

“Jack, please,” Sam pleads, “you’re confused about how things work, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“No,” Jack replies, the frustration he feels coming out in his tone of voice, “you’re wrong, Sam,” he looks between the two men, “you’re both so blind, I’m helping you to see the truth.”

“It’s not your fault, Jack, if you had all of your soul you’d understand how far off the reservation this is. Just let us go and we can forget about it.” Dean says, attempting to sound reasonable, no doubt, but all it does is irritate the Nephilim even more.

Jack frowns at his surrogate fathers and raises his hand a little higher, “It doesn’t make any sense, you deserve to be happy, how much longer do you think you can keep denying yourselves?” he asks, the tingle of his powers building in his fingertips as he concentrates, waves of energy pushing Dean closer to his brother. Sam grunts at the impact of Dean’s naked chest colliding with his, followed by a small groan as Jack lifts his other hand, curling it slightly to pull the younger Winchester’s hips forward to meet his brother’s.

“Stop, Jack, this is insane!” the taller man grits out.

“It’s OK, Sammy,” Dean tries to soothe him, probably thinking Jack can’t hear, “maybe if we just go along with it for now…”

“Are you crazy?” Sam replies, appalled, “Dean, this is ridiculous, he’s lost his damn mind, we need to set him straight not indulge him!”

“That’s enough,” Jack snaps, his patience wearing thin. He walks to stand beside them, looking between their nervous faces. He purposely waited to do anything until both of them were turning in for the night so there were less clothes involved. Dean was in his t-shirt and boxers, Sam a t-shirt and sleep pants when he’d called them both to the older man’s room. If Jack had wanted to he could have made them strip each other completely, he has the power to do it, but he settled for shirtless because despite what some might think, he’s not a monster and this isn’t for his benefit. The brothers' nakedness will only be for each other, not him, and before the night is over they will be naked. He doesn’t want to force their hands more than necessary, he’s providing a push - or gigantic shove, as it’s turning out - in the right direction, “it’s obvious how much you want each other, so why don’t you just give in?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, kid,” Dean answers, no small amount of panic in his eyes, now, or maybe it’s fear.

“I know more than you think.” Jack replies, flatly. He turns to look at Sam, “When you didn’t have your soul you had lots of sex, right?” he watches a small frown cross Sam’s face and can see the man wondering what that has to do with anything, “Even when you were back with Dean instead of hunting with Samuel,” Jack takes a step closer so that he’s only inches away and can watch both of their faces more intently, “are you trying to tell me that you didn’t look at Dean then and get tempted even more? Didn’t you think about finally taking what you wanted without the guilt having a soul brings?”

Sam immediately shakes his head, an anguished “No, never!” falling from his lips in a rush as he resolutely avoids his brother’s eyes.

Jack shakes his head in frustration and leans forward, “You’re lying, Sam, I can feel it. We’re not out in the world with civilians now, it’s just us, you can be honest, you both need to be honest.” He watches as the younger Winchester’s cheeks flush and a faint sheen of sweat is starting to form across his forehead and over his top lip. His breaths are coming faster and the pulse in his neck is throbbing visibly harder under the skin.

Dean frowns, blinking several times as he looks at his brother’s face but there’s no response. The Nephilim slowly sweeps two fingers up through the air to tip Sam’s chin slightly. When their eyes finally meet Dean licks his lips, “Sammy?” he rasps, almost in a whisper as if speaking any louder will send his brother running even though they can’t go anywhere.

A pained sound escapes Sam’s lips before he closes his eyes, and Jack sees the moment he admits defeat, “I’m so sorry,” he says, voice cracking. At Dean’s hitched breath the taller man screws up his eyes tighter and clenches his jaw, looking like he’s bracing himself for a punch. He jumps when his brother’s hand grips the side of his neck, his thumb resting next to Sam’s Adam’s apple which bobs as he swallows hard.

Jack’s finger twitches, slightly, forcing Dean’s head closer, his grunt making Sam’s eyes fly open. The Nephilim watches them carefully for a few seconds, waiting to see whether he needs to push more. The brothers exchange a long look, somehow communicating without words in that way they have that nobody else will ever understand. After a while Sam licks his lips, nervously, and Jack’s pleased when Dean’s eyes follow the path of his brother’s tongue. They’re both breathing heavily now, Sam’s hair moving slightly with Dean’s breath blowing against his face. The tiniest motion of Jack’s finger and he moves them so close that their lips are almost touching, keeping a little pressure there so they can’t move apart. He can almost taste the want crackling in the air and knows he won’t have to force the issue for much longer.

Sam jumps again when his brother’s fingers move from neck to cheek, cupping it softly, thumb stroking once over Sam’s bottom lip. Dean swallows this time, a pleading look on his face until the younger man nods so minutely that the movement can only be seen because Jack’s so close, but he knows Dean’s so attuned to his brother that he’d never have missed it. His own chest burns a little and the Nephilim realises he’s been holding his breath, waiting for something to happen. He’s about to push the men closer together when Sam dips his head enough to press his lips to Dean’s for a few seconds before pulling back as far as he can considering he’s pressed up against the wall.

Dean rests his forehead on Sam’s cheek, taking a few shaky breaths and gathering himself before he looks back up with a pained expression. They look at each other for a long moment before Sam nods more vigorously than before, the older man’s shoulders immediately relax a little and this time it’s him that moves to press a firmer kiss to his brother’s lips for a few seconds longer. When he gets no resistance he pulls back for air before diving back in, both opening their mouths and deepening the kiss. Sam lets out a small moan and moves his hand to Dean’s hip, pulling him closer and instinctively rolling his hips where they’re flush against each other. The older man pulls away with sharp gasp, lust glazed eyes flying up to meet his brother’s gaze, face flushed pink under the freckles dotted over his cheeks.

Jack takes a step back and releases his hold enough that both men can move their arms, and they’re instantly holding on to one another. Sam wraps his free arm around Dean’s back, pulling him even closer while Dean threads one hand into Sam’s hair at the nape of his neck, the other going to his brother’s waist, thumb brushing the bare skin of Sam’s hip where his pyjamas are riding low. Another nod and a relieved smile from the younger sibling and Dean leans in, a quick flash of tongue catching Jack’s eye before it disappears into Sam’s mouth, moans coming from both as Dean rolls his hips forward this time.

Once Jack’s sure that both men are concentrating only on each other, he takes a few steps back, completely releasing his hold on them. He has no idea if they felt the change but either way their hands are attempting to touch everywhere all at once, kissing like they’re trying to devour each other, moaning and whimpering when something feels particularly good. As soon as a needy ‘please, Dean, I want you inside me’ and a lustful growl in return meet Jack’s ears he moves further away, glancing down at the movement of Dean’s hand reaching into Sam’s pants before he does. Now the dam has broken he’s sure there’s no going back for the brothers, and a satisfied smile crosses his lips as he quickly and quietly leaves the room, giving them privacy.

Other people might not understand or approve of this aspect of Sam and Dean’s relationship, but even with only part of his soul left Jack knows that he’s happy for them.

~ FIN ~

Supernatural: Cause and Effect (Weecest, NC-17)

2020-11-30T14:32:12Z

Title: Cause and Effect
Pairing: Sam/Dean (Weecest)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Weecest, sibling incest, manhandling, angry sex, rough sex, possible dub con
Summary: Their sex is always intense when Sam's spent time teasing his brother, but this time there's an anger in Dean's behaviour that he's never experienced before.

“You went too far this time, Sammy,” Dean growls as he grabs his brother by the front of his shirt and drags him out of the passenger seat of the Impala, barely aware of his own strength in his angered state.

Sam lets out a startled cry as he nearly falls over with the force of the manhandling, the older teen’s grip the only thing stopping it, “I just wanted you, Dean!” he says, plainly, reaching up to hold his brother’s face with the intention of pulling him into the kiss he’s been doing everything he can to get all day, but a rough push to the centre of his chest has him bumping into the door frame of the car, the metal causing a sharp sting in his back and neck with the impact, “What the fuck, Dean?” he asks, incredulously.

There’s a flush high on Dean’s cheeks, anger combined with prolonged arousal from the blatant eye fucking his little brother’s been doing throughout the day, “You think you can get away with being so obvious, Sam? I taught you better than to be so reckless!” he spits, reaching forward to roughly grab the shorter boy again, “Dad might be oblivious to shit going around him when he’s researching but he’s not an idiot, do you want us to get caught, huh?”

“Of course not,” Sam replies, “I was just teasing you, don’t deny you like it.”

“That wasn’t teasing, Sammy,” he replies, tugging his scrawny baby brother forward with one hand while he opens the rear door of the car with his other, before shoving him into the back seat, “that was crossing the line and now you’re gonna pay for it.”

Sam struggles to balance enough to push himself back on the seat, his attention firmly on his brother undoing his belt and jeans, the younger boy reaching down for the hem of his own shirt before strong hands close around his bony elbows in an almost painful grip.

“Oh no,” Dean says in a mocking tone, “don’t even think about it,” he lets go of his brother’s arms long enough to push with enough force that the younger teen falls back on the seat with a ‘thwump’, nimble fingers working to free Sam from his jeans and boxers, tugging them down his long, skinny legs to pool around his ankles before doing the same with his own. He roughly spreads Sam’s legs and climbs into the space between tem, looming over his brother with his broader, more muscled frame, reaching down the back of the seat for the bottle of lube they keep stashed there. He pours some onto his fingers, barely spreading it around before he’s searching for Sam’s hole.

The younger boy grunts as two of his brother’s fingers press into him without preamble, hissing at the sharp sting it brings. They fucked in the shower this morning while Dad was out getting breakfast so he’s still a little loose but not enough for it to be comfortable, “Jesus, go easy,” he says, grabbing his brother’s shoulder and trying to relax when Dean shows no signs of doing any such thing, instead pumping his fingers in and out of Sam ass with more force than ever before, “Dean, come on, don’t…” he’s cut off when his brother decides the quick and dirty prep is enough, pulling his fingers out and coating his angry red dick with what’s left of the lube.

“Shut up, Sam!” he grits, lifting his brother’s arms and shoving them above his head, pressing thin wrists together and pinning them to the seat with one hand around both, “Don’t fucking move,” he warns, voice low and dangerous and Sam shivers despite himself, “you even try to touch your dick and I won’t let you come for a week, you hear me?” Dean’s breathing hard and staring so intently at his little brother that if looks could kill then there’d surely be one less Winchester in the family.

Sam gulps, his own breaths becoming more ragged with no small amount of arousal and a little fear if he’s honest because Dean’s never been like this with him. Yeah, things have got heated when they’ve both been desperate for each other, this thing between them is barely a couple of months olds and they’re both flooded with teenage hormones meaning most times get desperate, but his brother has always reigned himself in. Now something’s changed and it makes Sam’s stomach squirm in both a good and a bad way, “Yeah, OK,” he replies with a nod, voice shaking. The words are barely out of his mouth before Dean’s hand is hooked around the back of his knee, forcing his leg up and pushing his cock inside with one rough slide. Normally he’ll wait for Sam to adjust, but this is far from normal for them. Dean pulls back almost immediately, the head of his cock almost all the way out before slamming back in with such force that Sam cries out, the older teen’s name the only word on his lips, followed by grunts as his brother fucks him hard like it’s his only mission in life.

“Gotta teach you a lesson, Sammy,” he pants with exertion already, shoving his brother’s t-shirt up, exposing soft belly and chest, tugging roughly first at one of his nipples then the other just to hear him hiss. Dean angles his body so that he’s half kneeling, able to keep fucking Sam in their cramped space without any part of him touching his brother’s wet, aching cock, “can’t let you...hngh,” he pauses when Sam’s ass flutters around him, “get away with taking risks like that.” He releases his grip on the tender nipple below him in favour of bending his body so that he can hold Sam’s skinny hip, his large, sweaty hand digging into the flesh so hard there are going to be bruises if he keeps it up. Soon his mouth is on Sam’s heaving chest, sharp bites to his nipples that have the younger boy crying out in both shock and pain.

“Dean, God, what’s gotten into you?” he pants, arching his hips up, seeking skin on skin contact for his dick and groaning in frustration when he gets none. His brother is driving into him with such force now that Sam’s sliding over the seat, his skin sweaty from the heat of their bodies on the leather. Dean uncurls himself and moves his mouth up to sink his teeth into the juncture of his boy’s neck and shoulder through cotton covering them and thrusts harder, his cock sliding over Sam’s prostate just right. The younger teen lets out a strangled cry at the pain-pleasure of it all, meanwhile a guttural moan falls from Dean’s lips as he slams in harder and faster, lifting his head and scraping his teeth over Sam’s jaw. Thankfully he stops short of actually biting because that would be difficult to explain to Dad, instead hovering over Sam’s lips, almost close enough to kiss but Sam daren’t lean into it with Dean in this frenzy.

“Are you...paying attention?” Dean asks between harsh pants, slamming into his brother even harder, the burn almost too much for Sam’s tender hole. The only thing stopping the younger boy from complaining is the way Dean’s making sure every thrust rubs over that spot, coaxing more and more slick from Sam’s eager teenage dick, enough to have it dripping and throbbing, his body squirming with the need to come.

“Y-yeah, paying attention,” Sam replies around a whine, working his hips in counterpoint to his brother’s brutal thrusts despite it being this side of too much, the muscles of his arms flexing when he tries to move them, a dull ache in his wrists where Dean squeezes in a silent reminder that he’s to keep still, “c-close...g-gonna…” he stammers, opening his eyes even though he doesn’t remember closing them. He’s met with Dean’s red, sweaty face half screwed up in what Sam recognises as pleasure, and a desperate look in his eyes so different from the lust he usually sees there when his cock is splitting Sam open. If he didn’t know better he’d swear it was fear in those green orbs, but big, strong Dean Winchester doesn’t get scared. It’s unsettling, even as pleasure sweeps through Sam’s body.

“Come for me,” Dean demands around the desperate grunts coming from his swollen lips, “do it, Sammy,” he says, eyes flickering across his brother’s face then down to his cock as much as he can in this position, his hips frantically working to fuck Sam as hard, fast and deep as he can.

With a strangled cry Sam comes untouched, hot and wet over his belly and chest, whole body tensing in almost painful spasms. What little breath he had remaining is stolen from him when Dean’s lips crash into his, rough and demanding, tongue pushing in and licking desperately until he pulls away just as quickly, hips bucking wildly before he tenses up, crying out as he comes deep inside his little brother’s tight hole.

Dean barely takes in a few gulps of air before he opens his eyes, looking down at his brother intently. A pained look flickers across his face before he pulls out of Sam quick enough to cause a wince from both and backs out of the car, quickly putting his clothes right before walking on shaking legs to the driver’s side and climbing into the seat. He immediately grips the steering wheel with both hands and rests his forehead on them, still out of breath. There’s a palpable buzz of something in the clammy air but neither of them say anything, even when Dean lifts his head to meet Sam’s eyes in the rear view mirror.

Sam pulls up his boxers and jeans and shuts the car door which Dean didn’t even bother to close behind him, thinking better of moving into the passenger seat. He stares out of the window all the way to the diner and all the time Dean’s inside grabbing their food. When his brother comes back he sits with the engine running for a good minute, not making any move to actually drive. They’re both breathing heavily despite recovering from their orgasm highs two miles ago, and their eyes meet again in the mirror.

“Did I hurt you?” Dean asks, his voice raw and a little shaky. He gulps audibly while he waits for an answer.

Something’s really wrong and he doesn’t know why Dean’s acting this way. Things are always intense when they tease each other before they get lost in one another’s bodies but this is different, “I…” he starts, but his brother speaks again before any more words come out.

“Tell me Sam, did I hurt you?”

The younger teen shakes his head and swallows around the lump in his throat, “Not really,” he says, “I’ll be fine.”

Dean inhales sharply through his nose and nods twice, his jaw is set firm but he says nothing further, just pulls the car out of the lot and drives them back.

The motel room is empty save for a note on the table from dad telling them he’s gone to the bar up the street and not to wait up.

“Well that’s just typical,” Sam scoffs, screwing up the paper and throwing it across the room, “if you’d waited ten more minutes to go all caveman you could’ve fucked me right here, not that he’d probably give shit!” He turns to his brother, the kind of boldness that comes with anger building in him, gripping Dean’s forearm before he can move away.

The older teen’s shoulders tense, “He can’t find out, Sammy, he can’t!” he says, his voice sounding broken enough to dissolve Sam’s anger.

“He won’t,” Sam assures him, bringing his other hand up to rest on his brother’s chest, “I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to piss you off. I’ll be more careful in future, I promise.”

Dean covers Sam’s hand and wraps his other around the back of his brother’s neck, pulling him in so their foreheads touch, “I can’t lose you.”

“That’s what this was about?” Sam asks, softly, realisation sinking in. He waits for Dean’s nod before he wraps one arm around his brother’s waist and the other around his back, going up on his tiptoes to press his face to Dean’s neck, “You won’t lose me, I won’t let him split us up.” he says, letting out a sigh as he’s pulled in tighter to the hard body in front of him.

When they pull apart Dean is much less tense but still has a worried look on his face. He trails his fingers over Sam’s shoulder where he bit down, wincing at the slight hiss it causes, “I did hurt you, shit, I’m so sorry!”

“I’ve had worse,” Sam says with a shrug because they both know it’s true. He steps back a little and lifts the hem of his t-shirt up and sure enough, the telltale start of bruises and bite marks are on the skin of his hip and chest, “it’s nothing that can’t be kissed better.” he teases.

Dean huffs out a laugh, smirks and his eyes darken as he pulls his brother flush against him, “I can definitely do that!” he says before capturing Sam’s lips in a kiss that’s an apology and a promise all at once.

.

Supernatural: What Dreams Are Made Of (Dean/Jack, M)

2020-11-28T15:16:52Z

Title: What Dreams Are Made Of
Pairing: Supernatural, Dean/Jack
Rating: M
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Pseudo incest, age difference, fluff, hurt/comfort, first kiss
Summary: Jack has been having nightmares since his return from Apocalypse World. After a particularly bad one Dean comforts him, changing the dynamic of their relationship in doing so. This is for peach_coke who wanted some fluffy, non explicit Winkline. Hope it's to your liking! <3

Dean shuffles into the kitchen, following the scent of coffee with his eyes half closed. He’s exhausted, they all are, Jack most of all. It’s been weeks since he got back from Apocalypse World almost every night he’s been having terrible nightmares, which is hardly surprising with the amount of death and destruction he saw over there. Both Winchesters have too much first hand knowledge of what it’s like to repeatedly relive the most awful things you’ve ever experienced or imagined and being powerless to stop it. It’s killing each of them that Jack’s going through it now, too.

He almost inhales his first mug of coffee then takes the second with him as he goes in search of Sam, knowing he’ll most likely find him in the library. When he approaches the doorway and hears the unmistakable sound of Jack sniffling and apologising in a raw voice, it makes something twist in his chest and he freezes. He’s not ordinarily one to eavesdrop but where Jack’s concerned he feels a need to know what’s being said.

“Do you want to tell me about them?” Sam asks, softly.

“No,” comes the reply almost immediately, “it’s nothing, I didn’t mean to get upset. They’re just dreams, I know that, they can’t hurt me because they’re not real,” he says, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself more than Sam.

“But they feel real, even after you wake up.” Sam replies in that soothing, patient voice he so often uses with the kid, “They’re hard to shake off, I get it, I do, but with time they will get better, Jack. You know you can come to me any time and I’ll do whatever I can to help, right?”

“I know, Sam, thank you.” another sniff, “What…” he hesitates and it’s clear he’s trying to decide whether to finish vocalising the thought, “what helped you when yours were really bad?”

Sam doesn’t answer straight away and Dean can picture the creases in his brother’s forehead as he thinks, and the sincere look that’ll be on his face when he eventually speaks, “Talking helped, obviously, sometimes going out for a run to clear my head. I guess it was easier when I was younger because then Dean always helped me.”

“Dean?” the Nephilim asks sceptically, and the hunter can’t help but feel a little affronted at his tone, “What did he do?” the boy continues.

“Probably more than he’ll ever know,” Sam replies in a soft voice, “he used to hold me, assure me that everything would be OK. He made me feel so safe, like nothing could hurt me as long as I was in his arms.”

The silence seems to stretch and Dean wonders if one of them is leaving the room, until Jack speaks again, “I don’t think he’d ever do that for me,” he sighs, the disappointment quiet but obvious, “I’m still not sure he likes me all that much.”

Dean sighs, his stomach feeling suddenly heavy... his feelings for Jack are complicated to say the least. He knows he was a dick to the kid in the beginning, in his mind he had valid reasons for that, and besides, the kid gets that now, he sees Dean’s point of view even if it still hurts him. Jack has more than proven he’s nothing like his father, that he’s on their side and is now a real part of their dysfunctional family, so the fact that Dean does like the kid isn’t up for debate.

The added complication is that as much as he’s tried not to he’s been looking at Jack in a whole different way, lately, the kind of way that has him wondering what the kid would look like laid out naked on his beloved memory foam mattress, how responsive he’d be if Dean could kiss and lick him all over, and what kinds of noises Jack would make writhing on his cock. He quickly snaps himself out of that line of thought, knowing Jack doesn’t see him that way. He puts fake cheeriness into his good morning greeting when he enters the room and he doesn’t miss the way Jack turns away to quickly wipe his face, again, before he also offers a too cheery to be genuine response.

It takes a while for the noises to filter through into Dean’s sleepy consciousness but then they do it’s instinct that has him getting out of bed and rushing to Jack’s room. As soon as he opens the door the anguished cries and whimpers get even louder as the kid thrashes around in his sleep. Distressed, the hunter moves quickly over to the bed, softly calling Jack’s name and reaching out to shake him by the shoulder to try and rouse him. Close up, in the weak light from the lamp he can see sweat matting Jack’s hair to his forehead, his t-shirt clings to his chest and there are deep creases in his forehead. Based on his own experiences as well as witnessing Sam’s nightmares, he immediately knows that this one’s been going on some time. He shakes Jack a little harder, saying his name a little louder, but not too loud as to wake him with a start. Dean jumps back, startled himself when the Nephilim's eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright with a loud gasp.

“Jack? You with me, buddy?” he says, softly, not sure if the kid’s aware of his surroundings or not. When there’s no response he reaches out to firmly grip the kid’s other shoulder, too, and squeezes, hoping the pressure will make its way through to Jack’s fear frozen brain, “You’re OK, Jack, you’re at home, you’re safe.” The Nephilim is drawing in deep breaths, gulping down oxygen so quickly it’ll make him dizzy if he keeps going, but then he blinks a few times, slowly coming back to wakefulness. “Hey,” the older man tries again and this time it seems to register.

“Dean?” he croaks, the confusion clear in his voice, “What’s going on?”

“You were crying out,” he replies as he crouches down next to the bed, “figured it was another nightmare so I came to wake you up.”

A look of alarm crosses Jack’s face, “I didn’t know you could hear me,” he looks down at his shaking hands then buries them in the sheet, “I didn’t mean to disturb anyone, I’m really sorry.” His voice is genuine and full of anguish, and Dean knows without doubt that Jack means it, he’s apologising for his nightmares. Fuck.

“Hey,” Dean says, sliding a hand to the back of Jack’s neck, fingers slipping on sweaty skin, “it’s not your fault, there’s nothing to apologise for,” he looks intently at the kid to try and convey the truth of his words, “I’ve been there, I know what it’s like.”

Jack nods but doesn’t look convinced. He draws his knees up under his chin and wraps his arms around them, “It felt just like I was back there.” he says, his voice raw and full of pain. He swallows hard, swiping a hand over the cheek furthest away from Dean and the man’s chest aches for him

“But you’re not,” Dean says, squeezing Jack’s neck, “you’re home with us.”

Jack nods again, wiping at his face with more force as a sob makes its way from his throat. He’s trembling, now, obviously losing the battle he’s fighting with himself and the anxiety from the dream.

Before Dean realises what he’s doing he’s pushed himself up and sat next to Jack on the bed, reaching out to drag the boy against his chest, leaning into his body and shushing him the way he used to do with Sam. He feels Jack freeze, not expecting the reaction and Dean suddenly lets him go, knowing he’s overstepped and probably freaked the kid out. The Winchesters are hardly known for being touchy feely, and aside from the hug Jack gave Dean when he got back to the bunker after Michael left his body has been the only real physical contact they’ve had, lately. He releases his hold on the boy and stands, “Uh, sorry, old habits, Sammy used to like…I’ll just go...” he says as he turns to leave, but he’s stopped by a firm grip on his wrist.

“Wait!” Jack almost shouts, and the look on his face is shocked, like he didn’t expect the word to come out of his mouth. That makes two of them. He looks at his hold on Dean’s wrist, blinks then slowly opens his fingers, hand dropping back to his knees. His eyes flick between Dean’s and the bed, like he’s looking down in shame for what he’s done. His breath is starting to hitch and when he looks up again his blue eyes are swimming in unshed tears, pleading without words, either because he can’t speak or he’s afraid of being rejected.

That damn near breaks Dean’s heart, “I could…” he licks his lips, suddenly nervous, “stay a while.” He makes it a statement rather than a question, that way the kid doesn’t have to commit to saying anything, and if there’s no response he can just leave. The sigh of relief Jack lets out causes his shoulders to sag as if half his tension left his body along with his breath. He swallows audibly, nods his head ever so slightly and offers half a smile. When he shifts from the middle to one side of the bed Dean takes the cue and climbs back on. He sits close but makes no move to reach out, maybe the kid just wants his presence and not touch. He feels like he should say something but has no idea what, maybe this was stupid after all.

The sounds of both of their breathing is loud in the room and after what feels like forever Jack shifts slightly on the bed so his body is turned towards the older man’s, slides his butt down a little and rests his head on Dean’s shoulder. Not long after that he shifts again, moving a little closer so they’re pressed together from shoulder to hip, turning himself in closer, still, and that’s when Dean hears Jack’s breaths are coming faster, and feels him shaking.

“Hey,” he says, lifting his arm and resting his hand on Jack’s shoulder but not putting any pressure on it, “come here.” No sooner has he spoken the words, Jack has moved completely into his space, head resting on Dean’s chest, arm around his waist and burrowing in as close as he possibly can. When the older man hears the soft sniffles of Jack crying he shifts position so that he can pull the smaller frame closer, one arm around his back and the other threading his hand through sweaty hair, “Wanna tell me about it?” he asks, softly, unsurprised when the kid shakes his head. He says nothing more, just holds Jack close. They stay like that, Dean occasionally rubbing Jack’s arm or back to soothe him until he himself starts to relax a little, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headboard. He may have dozed off, he’s not sure, but it doesn’t feel like long before the movement of Jack’s body the sound of his shaky breaths alert Dean to the fact that it’s from cold, not fear any more.

“C-c-cold,” Jack says through chattering teeth, trying to tuck himself into Dean’s warmth even more. It’s unusual because the kid generally seems to run hot, often walking around the bunker in a simple t-shirt while Sam and Dean usually wear overshirts as well, then reality sinks in. Without his powers Jack’s body doesn’t have the same healing ability, so maybe that extends to things like regulating his body temperature, too.

Dean sits up, tugging at the arm of Jack’s sweat soaked t-shirt, “Come on, get this off, let’s get you into something dry and warm,” he says. When he twists his body away he can’t help but notice the kid’s hard nipples through the fabric, wondering how the flesh would feel against his lips and tongue, whether they would soften in the heat of his mouth so he could then suck and bite so they’re hard from arousal and not cold. His cock twitches in his pyjama pants and it breaks the spell, almost jumping up and jostling the bed so much it creaks a little. Jack gives him a confused look but gets up and heads over to his dresser to pull out a fresh shirt. Dean busies himself pulling off the pillow case which is also soaked, as are parts of the sheet, how long was the poor bastard trapped in his fear?, he wonders, pushing the thought down as quickly as he can because it will only serve to bring back memories of his own flashbacks as well the ones Sam’s told him about. He flicks his eyes up in just in time to see the new t-shirt fall over the soft looking, creamy flesh of Jack’s lower back and tries not to think about how it would feel under his hands.

“I’ll get fresh bedding,” Jack says quietly when he turns back, “and I’ll do the laundry in the morning.”

“Screw the laundry,” Dean replies, harsher than he meant to because he’s annoyed with himself for not waking up sooner, for letting Jack suffer so long when he could have done something about it. The kid looks at him with wide eyes, obviously taken aback by his outburst, “sorry,” the hunter sighs, rubbing his temples, “I just mean it’s no big deal, Jack, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry,” the Nephilim says again, looking even smaller and more pitiful then he did moments before.

“Will you stop apologising for something that’s out of your control?” Dean says, managing to keep the irritation in his voice to a minimum. He watches the kid open his mouth then close it abruptly, clear that he was going to say sorry again. Always so fucking polite. Dean hasn’t realised it but he’s moved to stand in front of Jack and he’s holding the kid by his upper arms. As soon as that registres, the cold of Jack’s skin seeps into his own, “We need to get you warm,” he says, rubbing the flesh quickly to try and heat it with the friction and his own warmth. To his surprise Jack takes another step forward and presses his forehead to Dean’s chest, slender arms slipping around his waist. After a moment’s hesitation the older man wraps his arms back around the kid, feeling a little stupid standing in the middle of the room.

Jack pulls back enough to look up at him, his eyes still a little glassy, “You should probably go back to bed, get some more sleep. I’ll go and do some more reading, I’m not tired anymore.”

Dean lets out a snort, bringing one hand to Jack’s face to trace the dark circles under his eyes, “Yeah, right!” Jack’s eyes cast down, that kicked puppy look that always tugs at Dean’s heart strings. Before his brain has caught up with his mouth, the words are already out, “You could come and sleep with me if it would help.” Fuck!

Jack’s head snaps up, a small look of confusion and disbelief on his face, searching Dean’s face like he’s trying to see a lie written on it before he shakes his head with a sad smile, “You don’t want that.”

“Yes, I do,” slips out and it’s too late to take it back. As the kid’s face immediately changes into a surprised but pleased smile, he realises he doesn’t want to take it back, even though it’s probably the worst idea in the history of a long line of them.

Ten minutes later Dean’s back in his own room with a glass of water for Jack in his hand. He steps through the door and his breath catches at the sight of Jack sitting on the bed, rolling up the sleeves of one of Dean’s flannel shirts so he’s not completely swamped in it, and heat curls in the hunter’s belly. He licks his lips, breath coming a little faster at the somehow arousing sight even though the kid is fully clothed.

Jack blinks at him, “Is this OK?” he asks, stilling, “I’m still cold and it was just lying there.”

“Yeah,” Dean rasps before clearing his throat, “yeah, it’s fine.” He hands the glass over and turns away, walking around the other side of the bed without looking at Jack, berating himself once again at how risky this is for him, but he can’t exactly kick the kid out at this point. He hears the water going down in large, thirsty gulps and wishes he’d brought some for himself, his mouth suddenly dry. When he can’t put it off any longer he climbs into bed, making sure he’s not over the invisible halfway point on the mattress, shuffling to get comfortable on his back. He reaches out to shut the lamp off but Jack’s small voice stops him.

“Can you leave it on, just for a little while?” there’s a slight blush spreading across his cheeks and Dean’s belly churns a little at the sight. It’s distressing, cute and totally arousing all at the same time. He’s so fucking gone for this kid, he’s sure he’s going to hell...again.

“Sure,” he says, dropping his arm to lay on his stomach.

Jack lies down on his side facing Dean and the older man can tell even without looking that those big blue eyes are on him, but the kid says nothing so neither does he. Maybe a couple of minutes later Jack shifts trying to get comfortable Dean thinks, causing his slim leg to press lightly against his thicker, more muscled one. The kid’s freezing cold foot touching his bare ankle makes the hunter gasp and Jack draws away with a mumbled apology. Dean just lifts his arm and nods his head to the side in a sign to come closer. In a matter of seconds Jack’s arm is around his waist, head half on his collarbone and hot breath against the older man’s throat, legs pressed fully against Dean’s own, thankfully his cold feet tucked away from him.

At first he feels a little shell shocked at the Nephilim’s reaction but then it hits him: the kid’s never had this, never known the comfort of someone’s arms when he’s scared, before. Over in Apocalypse World he’d had to take responsibility for dozens of people, the powerful half archangel who killed his own kind to save countless innocent lives. He’d grown up quickly out of necessity in both this world and that one, he lost his mother, Dean’s sure Mary will have done her best to comfort him but beyond that, what’s he had in the way of physical affection? A pat on the back, a squeeze of his shoulder, Dean himself threw out a ‘You did good, kid!’ but now he realises that’s the kind of praise Jack craves, that he deserves, as well as comfort, a basic human need, even if Jack is only half human.

“Is this OK?” Jack asks in an uncertain voice, his grip tightening a little even as he speaks.

“Sure,” Dean replies, shifting so he’s turned towards the kid a little, he can do this, hold Jack and put his own desires to one side. He threads his one hand into Jack’s hair, gently combing his fingers through it and rests the other on the Nephilim’s forearm where it’s looped around him, “this OK?” he asks, quietly after a while, thinking Jack’s fallen asleep.

The movement of the kid nodding his head is subtle, but there. “Yes, I like it,” he confirms in that earnest way of his. After another long silence, he speaks again, his breath coming a little quicker, “They made me hurt you.”

Dean’s confused for a moment but then the penny drops, “In your dream?”

“No, over there. Michael and Zachariah, they…” he sighs, body tensing in Dean’s arms, “they got inside my head, tried to make me come around to their way of thinking and when I wouldn’t it was like they could control my thoughts. The things they made me think I was doing to my family were terrible,” he sniffs a little, “especially when it was hurting you.”

“Angels are dicks,” Dean spits, pulling Jack closer, “it wasn’t real and you’re home, now,” he repeats his earlier words, trying to keep his voice level despite the anger he feels, “You’re not going to hurt me and I’m not going to get anything happen to you, neither is anyone else, you got that?”

“It felt so real, though. They made me put you on a rack and told me to carve you up, the way Sam…” he swallows hard before continuing, “the way Sam said they did in Hell.” Jack immediately gasps in shock, obviously realising too late that he shouldn't know anything about it, “Dean, I'm so sorry,” he says quickly pushing up on his elbow to look him in the eye, “I know you never told me, Sam tried explaining some of the things... some of the reasons you are the way you are. I just wanted to try and understand, I wanted to know you, I didn't mean to pry, Dean, I swear.”

Dean’s whole body tenses and now it's his turn to feel a cold sweat of fear break out over his skin. His breath catches in his throat, images he's been pushing down for years bubbling under the surface, things appearing in his memories and his own nightmares flashing before his eyes. He takes some deep breaths, trying to remain calm. Jack’s not done anything wrong, it’s just that his filter is almost non-existent, “It's not your fault,” he says quietly, “ I didn't know…” he pauses, looking for the right words, not wanting Jack to know no how much it all still affects him, as much as he pretends it doesn’t, “I didn't know you knew you about that,” he says around a lump in his throat, “It was a long time ago.” He forces himself to relax and holds onto Jack a little tighter, probably nearly crushing the boy by now, “best not to think about it.”

Jack looks up at him, worry clear in his wide eyes, deep creases in his smooth forehead, “Dean,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I would never hurt you like that,” the hand that was around his waist comes to rest on the older man's chest, the heat of it bleeding through cotton. Jack sighs, licks his soft looking lips and swallows as his fingers trace a back-and-forth pattern over Dean’s heart. “You mean too much to me, you all do, but you…” he bites his lower lip, looks down at his own hand and then back up and to the hunter’s eyes. When he opens his mouth to speak again, nothing comes out, instead he shakes his head and looks imploringly up at Dean as if he’s trying to project the words into the older man’s head instead of saying them out loud.

Dean’s heart thumps in his chest, the adrenaline coursing through him partly out of fear and partly out of worry. He desperately wants to ease the anguish on that beautiful young face, “It’s alright, kid, I know.” Jack sighs again and he looks so sad it makes Dean’s chest ache, “Hey, what is it?” he asks, shifting to lie more on his side so they’re almost facing each other.

The Nephilim shakes his head, a sad smile and something unfathomable on his face, “Nothing,” he replies, looking down at his hand on Dean’s chest again, “you should get some more sleep,” he stills his hand and goes to angle his body away, “I’m going to find something to read, goodnight, Dean.”

“Hey,” the older man replies, frowning and laying his hand over Jack’s in an attempt to keep him there, “what’s going on, Jack?” Dean knows he’s not always the quickest on the uptake but something else is clearly bothering the boy, he just can’t work out what it is and an uneasy feeling is settling in his stomach, “Talk to me, kid.” he says, offering what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

If it was possible Jack looks even more sad, his eyes watery, “I said it’s nothing, please, Dean, just leave it.”

“Jack…” he replies, cut off when a small sob escapes the boy’s lips and a tear rolls down his face, “son of a bitch,” he whispers, his protective instincts kicking in, again. He pulls the slim body closer and cups the kid’s cheek, brushing away the tear, smoothing his thumb over soft skin. Another sob and the only thing he can think to do is lean in to press a kiss to Jack’s temple, “shh, it’ll be alright,” he coos, “I’m right here.”

Jack leans into his touch and the hand on Dean’s chest clenches, the fabric of his t-shirt pulling as it’s screwed up in the kid’s fingers. He tilts his head to look up at Dean breaking their contact, eyes darting between the older man’s eyes and lips. If this was any other situation the older man would swear whoever was in his arms was going to kiss him, but it isn’t, and Jack wouldn’t, he doesn’t share Dean’s attraction, he’s sure of that… right up until Jack leans in to press their lips together. It lasts only a few seconds before the kid pulls away, a look of uncertainty on his face. His breathing comes a little faster and he starts to look a little scared.

Dean blinks in shock, “Why did you do that?” he asks after who knows how long.

Jack licks his lips, all puppy eyes and determination as he squares his shoulders, “Because I wanted to.”

“What for?” Dean replies when Jack says nothing else, not daring to let himself hope.

Jack frowns and closes his eyes for a moment, his body tensing but he doesn’t pull away. When he opens his eyes there’s that old look he used to get around Dean in the early days, the one that combined an eagerness to please along with fear of saying or doing the wrong thing...like exist, for starters. He swallows hard and licks his lips before taking a deep breath, “I don’t know much about,” he releases his grip on Dean’s shirt and waves a hand between them, “personal relationships and things, but I thought by now you’d have figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” Dean asks, “Jack, I don't know what …” he cuts off when Jack rolls his eyes in a very Sam like way, “why are you looking at me like that?”

The Nephilim sighs before he pushes himself up higher and leans back in to press their lips together again. This time it lasts longer, mostly because Dean is in shock again, coming back to himself at the touch of Jack’s fingers on his cheek. The boy pulls away enough to look him in the eye, the expression on his face somewhere between nervous and a very clear duh. He blinks a couple of times then offers a small - still nervous - smile. When the hunter just stares blankly his fingers move over Dean’s cheek, sliding down and going to pull away as he angles his body so they’re touching as little as possible, obviously wanting to get away.

Through the pounding of his pulse in his ears Dean hears a murmured ‘sorry’ as Jack’s body heat shifts and suddenly he feels like he’s been punched in the gut and had a bucket of ice water poured over him at the same time. Jack kissed him. Jack kissed him. His chest burns and he realises he’s been holding breath, he quickly ets it out a sharp huff of a laugh at his own cluelessness. He grips Jack tighter so he can’t go anywhere and licks his lips, pleased when the kid’s eyes are drawn to his mouth. Tightening his fingers in Jack’s hair he leans forward to press a kiss of his own to that soft, pink mouth, a flare of heat shooting through him when Jack’s body relaxes and he almost melts into the kiss. Dean makes sure to move his lips slowly, not wanting to scare the boy or push him into anything. Jack lets out a soft moan and the older man has to pull back, has to see his face. He’s met with dazed eyes, flushed cheeks and pink, spit slick lips, “God, look at you!” he rasps, sweeping his thumb over the kid’s bottom lip.

“More?” Jack whispers, like asking any louder will earn him an automatic no, clutching the front of Dean’s t-shirt again and pulling hard as he rolls onto his back.

“Jesus,” Dean says, feeling himself being pulled closer. He shifts so he’s lying on top of Jack with most of his weight supported on his left forearm, his right hand buried in the kid’s hair. They look at each other for what seems like an eternity before Jack tugs on the t-shirt again and rests his other hand on Dean’s hip, “this is so wrong,” the hunter mutters, even as they move towards each other.

Jack either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care because as soon as their lips touch again he lets out another moan, releasing his grip on Dean’s shirt in favour of wrapping his fingers around his neck to hold him in place.

This time Dean presses his mouth a little firmer against Jack’s, sliding across the plump flesh before gently sucking on the kid’s bottom lip, just enough to give him an idea of the feeling before he turns his head to a slightly different angle. He uses the very tip of his tongue to lick first at Jack’s top lip, then at the seam. Despite the boiling desire rolling through him, Dean’s gentle when he pushes his tongue inside, knowing this is all new to Jack. The older man goes for little kitten licks, a promise of more to come, and he can feel the slender body below him trembling slightly. Dean knows he’s a good kisser, takes pride in it and when a whimpering sound falls from the Nephilim’s lips when they part he only ramps up his desire.

Jack looks a little dazed, breathing heavily, “Why did you stop?” he rasps as he arches his body up against the hunter’s, gasping when his hard cock slides against Dean’s hip.

The older man groans when he feels it, lust rolling through him in waves at the thought of Jack getting hard just from their kiss. He lifts his weight up and looks down their bodies, seeing the tent in Jack’s pyjama pants, “Fuck,” he rasps, before letting some of his weight settle back down and taking Jack’s mouth under his again, his own cock starting to fill. He gets lost in the feeling of the exploring tongue in his mouth, the breathy, needy sounds the kid’s making and the feel of his lithe form pressing against Dean’s bulk. When Jack hooks his leg around the back of Dean’s thigh to pull him closer and bucks his hips the older man pulls back, abruptly, the awareness of the fact he’s taking advantage of Jack’s need for touch slamming into him. For Jack’s sake he doesn’t scramble back like he wants to, but settles his body on the bed next to the Nephilim and puts a hand on his heaving chest, “That’s enough, Jack.”

“What? Why?” he asks, confusion clear on his flushed face.

“It’s my fault,” he says, stomach churning, “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry, Jack, that’s not the kind of comfort you need right now.” The look of disappointment on the kid’s face is like a punch to the gut.

“But I liked it,” Jack replies, earnestly. He sits up and twists so he’s looking down at Dean, his eyes travelling from the older man’s to his own hands clasped in his lap, “did...did I do it wrong?”

Dean’s stomach churns again and he pushes himself up into a sitting position, “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, resting a hand on Jack’s knee, licking his lips and trying to find the right words but coming up with nothing, “look, it’s late,” he sighs, “we should try to get some sleep.” He feels like shit for essentially brushing the kid off but right now isn’t the time to have the discussion on why this is all kinds of fucked up.

“And if it wasn’t late?” Jack asks, no small amount of defiance on his face alongside the disappointment.

“Jack,” Dean replies, pinching the bridge of his nose, “can you just trust me on this? We can talk tomorrow,” he says, kicking himself for committing to a timescale.”

“Will we?” Jack asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you need any more water?” Dean deflects, fully aware he’s ignoring the question but he really can’t do this now. He waits for Jack to shake his head then climbs back under the covers, lying on his back like he was earlier and closes his eyes. It seems to take forever before there’s any sound or movement but eventually the bed bounces and shakes as Jack lies down and gets comfortable. Despite himself Dean smiles, the kid’s a stubborn little shit, staying just to make a point.

“What’s so funny?” Jack grumps.

Dean laughs a little, “Nothing, go to sleep. Light on or off?” he asks, opening his eyes and looking over at Jack. He’s back where he was originally, on his side and curled into a ball next to, but not touching the hunter.

“I don’t mind,” he replies, but there’s a small frown creasing his forehead.

Dean wars with himself, partly wanting to send Jack to his own bed and remove any more temptation, and partly wanting to still provide the kid with the comfort he deserves. Eventually he shifts to get more comfortable, “We’ll leave it on in case you wake up and forget where you are,” he says, softly.

A small smile crosses Jack’s face before he presses his lips together and nods against the pillow. After a couple of minutes the Nephilim uncurls his body and shifts closer, stretching out alongside Dean, idly tracing patterns on the pillowcase next to him, “Thank you.”

Unsure what to say under the circumstances Dean just nods and closes his eyes. Some time later he feels the slight shift of Jack’s body as it inches closer to him until he can feel the kid’s body heat. When a slender arm wraps around his waist he says nothing, and neither does Jack when Dean lifts his own arm so he can wrap it around the Nephilim’s back. A minute later when the weight of the kid’s head settles on his chest, Dean presses a light kiss to the soft hair, breathing in the boy’s unique scent, and Jack lets out a contented sigh.

The following day Dean wakes to an empty bed and shuffles into the kitchen, once again following the scent of coffee. He’s met with two smiling faces looking over at him from the table, “Mornin’,” he says with a hint of confusion, looking between Sam and Jack, “what’s going on?”

“Jack was telling me he slept well last night, that’s all.” his brother shrugs.

Dean’s heart rate picks up, wondering what Jack’s told him.“Oh?” he replies in between taking deep gulps of coffee and trying to stay calm.

“Uh huh,” Jack mumbles around a spoon loaded with as much sugary cereal as he can fit into his mouth, “I feel great, today,” he adds after he swallows, smiling brightly between the two of them.

That’s great, kid,” Dean replies, a smile of it’s own crossing his face at the sight of Jack’s happy face. He sits down next to the Nephilim, making sure it’s at their usual distance apart, not knowing what’s going to happen from here, if anything.

“Who wants bacon and pancakes?” Sam asks the room at large, pushing away from the table and heading over to the fridge without waiting for an answer from either of them.

“Huh, sugar and cholesterol without any prompting,” Dean says raising an eyebrow at his brother's back before looking over at Jack, “he must have been really worried about you,” he strokes his thumb up and down his coffee cup a few times and smiles softly, “we both were.”

Jack’s smile falters slightly, “I know, but I think we’ve found a way to help me. If you…as long as …” he turns to look over at Sam who still has his back to them, then back at Dean, looking nervous, now. He takes a deep breath, “You really helped me last night, I’m … I think I’m still going to have some nightmares, though, I mean they don’t just go away,” he says in a rush, like he needs to get all the words out at once, “I read that it can take weeks or even months and I know last night was just one night…”

“Jack,” Dean says, firm enough to cut the kid off but not harsh enough to sound like he’s telling him off. He shifts a couple of inches closer, “I’ll be here, for as long as you need.”

Jack nods, a relieved look spreading over his face,“I understand,” he says with another nod, “for as long as I need.” he finished, turning back to his cereal.

It’s early and Dean’s still on his first cup of coffee so it takes a minute to work out what the matter is, “Hey,” he says, stomach clenching a little. When Jack doesn’t look back he slides his hand around the back of the kid’s neck and pulls slightly until he turns and blue eyes meet his, “for as long as you want.”

“Really?” he replies, eyes bright and hopeful.

It makes Dean’s chest fill with warmth at his happy face and the underlying implication of what he’s just offered, “Yeah,” he nods, “really.”

Jack flicks his eyes to Dean’s mouth quickly before he looks directly at him, “Can we do more of…” he trails off, biting his lower lip and drops his hand to rest on the older man’s thigh, “you know?”

A low buzz of arousal makes Dean’s skin tingle where Jack’s hand rests, “Are you sure that’s what you want, Jack, I mean really what you want? With me?” his heart thumps in his chest as he waits for an answer.

The kid looks over his shoulder to check Sam’s still occupied and leans forward to press a tender kiss to Dean’s lips before pulling away with a shy smile and a nod, “I’m sure.”

Dean takes a minute for the reality of that sink in. The months he’s spent wanting more with Jack, sure they could have something great, as long as they’re careful about it at first, of course. He thinks about how right it felt to hold the boy in his arms, how hot it was just to kiss him, let alone anything more to come. He takes another deep swallow of his coffee and brushes his hand over the back of Jack’s neck where it rests, “Alright, then,” he says, “I’ll leave the light on.”

~ FIN ~

Supernatural: Deep Filled (Sam/Dean/Jack, NC-17)

2020-11-02T22:35:58Z

Title: Deep Filled
Pairing: Supernatural, Sam/Dean/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Pseudo incest, bottom!Jack, mentions of bottom!Sam, mentions of Weecest, double penetration
Summary: Jack can't get enough of Sam and Dean filling him up, so the brothers decide to take it to a new level.

Dean blinks into awareness, the remnants of the night’s sleep leaving him slowly. He lets out a small contented noise as he rolls his hips, pressing his morning wood into the supple ass it’s pressed up against. Jack must have somehow turned over in his sleep, quite an achievement since he and both brothers are currently all squeezed into the same double bed. Now instead of being the little spoon in Sam’s embrace, the Nephilim is moulded to Dean’s front, exactly how the hunter likes it because being the big spoon makes him feel like he’s looking after his boys, even in sleep.

It’s clear from the steady breaths that both of them are sound asleep, so he props himself up on one elbow and takes in the sight before him. The sheets are crumpled down at the bottom of the bed where one or all of them had kicked them off in the night, so he doesn’t even have to fight with them to be able to look over the full length of his brother and their adopted son and lover.

Sam is wearing his favoured long sleeved grey top which Dean also loves because the v-neck perfectly accentuates his brother’s long neck and throat, and dark blue bottoms which pull snug over his muscular ass and thigh where his leg is raised, knee around Jack’s thigh and his foot resting on Dean’s shin. One hand is wrapped loosely around the back of Jack’s head and the other resting half on Dean’s chest and half on the kid’s upper arm. Jack is dressed in worn, pale blue pinstripe pyjama bottoms and a soft, once white t-shirt which hangs loose over his slim frame, sliding off his shoulder where the neckline is stretched out on one side where Sam likes to tug it down and kiss the kid’s collarbone. He has one hand under his own cheek and the other around Sam’s waist, with his head tucked under the younger Wincester’s chin, forehead pressed into the hollow of Sam's clammy throat. Both of them look calm, relaxed, somehow open and vulnerable which is Dean’s mind means that at same time they look absolutely sinful and desirable, too.

When he shifts position slightly so he can lean closer to them both, the dim lights of the bunker highlight the contours of Sam’s angular face, Jack’s body and the contrast between them. Sam being the Sasquatch he is, broad shoulders and long legs taking up most of the bed, and Jack’s slimmer, shorter frame allowing him to curl even smaller in the space left. Seeing him so small and fragile looking - despite him being anything but - makes Dean want to hold the kid and protect him from the world and from his own powers. A small part of him thinks he should be protecting Jack from the brothers Winchester, too...he and Sam know this relationship isn’t healthy, neither is the one they’ve had for years, either, but it works for them so fuck what everyone else thinks. Family is the most important thing, and the way they express their love is nobody else’s business but their own.

The older man is drawn from his musings when Sam’s breathing changes slightly. Dean’s hands itch to touch, so as carefully as he can he sits up and strokes Sam’s cheekbone with the back of his hand, the light stubble he feels there scratching him in the best way. A couple more times and his baby brother’s eyes flicker open, “Morning, sunshine,” he says in half whisper, cupping Sam’s jaw and stroking his cheek with a thumb.

Sam frowns a little and makes a small noise of protest like he’s made since he was kid when he’s been gently woken up. Dean finds incredibly endearing, but he’d never admit it in a million years, “Hey,” the younger man replies, voice sleep rough and sexy as fuck, “you’re awake early.”

Dean shrugs, “Who says it’s not you that’s awake late?” he teases, smiling softly at the inevitable eye roll it earns him, but Sam still angles his head so he’s leaning in to his brother’s touch. When the hand on Dean’s chest grips his t-shirt and gently tugs he goes with it, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Sam’s lips, the slow drag of it feeling lazy and indulgent.

“Jack?” Dean whispers when they pull apart, but there’s no response. He’s not deterred, though, sliding his hand from Sam’s face down to Jack’s belly, slipping it under his t-shirt to touch smooth, sleep warmed skin, “C’mon, baby boy, wake up,” he whispers into the shell of Jack’s ear. He traces the contours of the kid’s torso, scratching lightly over the skin of his hip then over a flat nipple. Heavy eyelids flicker ever so slightly at that, long eyelashes fanned out over pale skin. Without another word, Dean leans back over towards Sam to take his lips in another slow kiss, but this time slips in his tongue.

His baby brother moans into it, then a little louder and from the slight movement of the bed Dean can tell he’s rolling his hips, pressing his dick against Jack’s hip. There’s another small sound, this time from Jack when Dean rubs the pad of his fingers over Jack’s nipple before gently pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. He does it again, still sweeping his tongue into Sam’s mouth, this time earning himself a breathy moan from the kid, who’s finally starting to stir.

The slick sound of the brothers’ lips parting seems to bring Jack more into wakefulness, a contented sigh coming from him as he snuggles further into the body in front of him for a moment like he’s trying to hold on to sleep, before he raises his head to blink blurrily up at Sam, “What’s going on?” he asks, rubbing one eye and although Dean can’t actually see it, he knows from the soft look on his brother’s face that the kid looks fucking adorable.

Sam’s answer is wordless, sliding his hand into the kid’s hair and pulling him closer to pepper kisses over his cheeks and nose before capturing those soft pink lips with his own. He rolls his hips into Jack’s body and it’s firm enough to push the kid against Dean, who in turn rocks against the pliant body in front of him, the older man letting out a small moan when the Nephilim presses himself back against the full length of Dean’s body.

Sam releases his grip on his brother’s t-shirt in favour of palming Dean’s ass cheek, pulling so that they’re even closer together, grinding a little firmer before he moves the hand to rest on Jack’s hip. He breaks the kiss with Jack and immediately leans over towards his brother, lips slick and swollen, face flushed and Dean eagerly slips his tongue back into Sam’s mouth to taste the combination of him and Jack.

“Dean...” Jack moans as the hunter rubs and tugs on his nipples, alternating between the two, “please,” he whispers, words slightly slurred from still not being fully awake.

Sam breaks the kiss and looks down at Jack with a smirk on his face. From the corner of his eye Dean sees his brother’s large hand slide from the kid’s hip into the space between their bodies, and from the way Jack gasps and rocks his hips it’s clear Sam’s rubbing his cock through the cotton of his pyjamas.

“Hmm?” Dean hums against the skin at the nape of Jack’s neck, trailing kisses along his hairline and sucking slightly behind the kid’s ear until it earns him an involuntary moan and shiver. He slides his hand down the Nephilim’s body until he can cover Sam’s hand with his own, applying more pressure until the Jack moans again. Dean looks over at his brother, “What do you think our boy here wants, Sammy?” he says, lips ghosting over the shell of Jack’s ear, again.

Sam grins but says nothing, squeezing the kid’s cock and slowly stroking him. Dean knows from experience how much Sam likes to tease, so he also knows the pressure will be enough to heat their young lover’s blood but not to bring him proper relief, so he removes his hand from Sam’s and slides it under the waistband of Jack’s pants and pushes the fabric down enough to expose the top of the kid’s ass. He splays his fingers half over the Nephilim’s hip, his thumb ghosting over the crease of his thigh in half a promise of what’s to come.

“I think he wants you to kiss him, right Jack?” Sam coos, lifting the kid’s chin and angling his head towards Dean. The position can’t be comfortable but Jack twists as much as he can, slick pink mouth parted in anticipation, offering the older man a half smile and nods.

“Yeah?” Dean says, leaning further over so that he can press his lips to Jack’s. They’re swollen, hot and pillowy soft. The kid is the first to use tongue, still a little uncertain as he presses it gently against Dean’s, hot and soft, pressure and confidence increasing when a breathy sigh falls from the older man’s lips. The bed shifts as Sam moves and pushes Jack’s pyjamas down, tapping his thigh and encouraging him to lift his hip so they can be pushed off. The kid breaks the kiss to manoeuver so that he can kick them free. Dean uses the opportunity to rid himself of his boxers and t-shirt while Sam pulls shirt Jack’s off, turning him again so that his back is along Dean’s front again.

Jack lets out a frustrated sound which indicates Sam isn’t naked quick enough, reaching out in an effort to help, but he ends up gripping the cotton in his fist when Dean presses a kiss to his shoulder and dips his fingers between the kid’s cheeks, rubbing over his slick hole.

“Mmm,” Dean hums into his skin as he looks over at his brother, “he’s still wet, Sammy, we put real good loads into him last night, huh?”

Sam smiles down at Jack, thumb rubbing the kid’s bottom lip, “Sure did, just like he wanted, right, Jack?”

“Yes,” the Nephilim replies, nodding eagerly, “always want you both in me,” he says around Sam’s thumb as he slips it into the kid’s mouth.

“Mmm, such a greedy hole, never quite full enough for you, is it?” Dean says, raising his eyebrow in Sam’s direction, his brother’s reply a small shrug and an amused smile. It’s true, the boy never seems more content than when they take it in turns to fill him from both ends, “Well let's see what we can do about that, sweetheart,” the older man says, adjusting the angle of his wrist so he can press two fingers against Jack’s hole, applying only slight pressure, humming in approval when the tips slip straight inside him with barely any resistance. The slick, burning heat makes him groan, “Jesus, Sammy, he’s still loose, too, bet I could slip right in there without any more prep.”

They all moan as Dean pushes in further, Jack’s muscles fluttering around his fingers, rolling his hips in an attempt to take more. Always wanting more, they’re learning.

“Look at you, so eager,” Sam says, voice deep with lust, “can’t wait to be filled up again, can you?” Jack shakes his head but says nothing, panting and letting out a pleading whine as Sam reaches around and slowly slides a finger in alongside Dean’s, “Fuck, Jack,” he says, cut off when the kid’s lips slam back against his.

“That’s the plan,” Dean chuckles, driving his fingers deeper inside Jack’s heat, “Sammy, get the lube.” The younger man pulls out of the kiss with a questioning sound but says nothing as Dean throws a look his way that tells him to do as he’s told. Dean sucks kisses all along Jack’s neck and shoulder while he pumps steadily into the kid, adding a third finger soon after and stretching him with little effort. Jack lets out a whimper, “You OK there, kiddo?” he asks, stilling his fingers, the last thing he wants to do is hurt their boy.

The Nephilim nods, turning back to look at Dean and the hunter groans at the sight. The kid is already flushed, eyes glazed with lust and looking desperate from what they’ve done so far, “Please, Dean,” he croaks, “want you.”

Sam groans from the other side of the bed, “Always so greedy for Dean’s cock aren’t you, baby boy?” he licks his lips and looks between Jack and his brother, his own flushed face full of want, “There’s nothing quite like it, feels so good being split open by it, right? I can’t get enough, either!” he admits.

Heat floods through Dean’s body knowing that all these years later Sam still feels that way, “He’s right,” he rasps into Jack’s ear, pumping and spreading his fingers even wider, “shoulda seen him in his teens, totally desperate for it all the damn time,” he rubs firmly over that spot inside Jack just to feel his body jerk and tighten and to hear him moan, “just like you’re becoming, sweetheart. My perfect little cock slut.”

“I wasn’t that desperate,” Sam argues, “and I was fourteen, dude, I was perpetually horny, it goes with the territory.”

“And perpetually climbing me like a fucking tree,” Dean laughs, winking at his brother, “not that I was complaining, of course.”

“Damn right!” Sam replies with a sly grin before looking back down at Jack, “You ready for more?”

Jack lets out a frustrated noise, rolls his hips back and grabs Sam’s giant hand in his, guiding it down his body to his cock. From the strangled moan it’s obvious Sam is thumbing the head in just the way Jack likes, “Yesss, come on,” he hisses.

“How can we refuse that?” Dean says, tipping his chin back encouraging Sam to come closer. They share a kiss that’s mostly tongue before he pulls away and whispers into his baby brother’s ear, “lots of lube, work him open as much as you can, OK?”

Sam draws back, a small look of confusion on his face before understanding registers, eyes flicking to Jack’s flushed face then back to his brother, “Yeah,” he nods, eagerly, “yeah, OK.”

Jack makes a whining noise that puts any puppy Dean’s ever heard to shame, “Hurry up,” he begs, “want you inside me.”

Sam laughs, softly, “So needy,” he says, quickly ridding himself of his pyjamas, coating his fingers with lube and bringing them around to Jack’s hole. The kid squirms as the long digits rub the slick around his rim and Dean’s fingers when he slides them out. A deep groan escapes the older Winchester as he feels one of Sam’s fingers slide in beside his own, pumping in counterpoint and panting almost as hard as Jack is, “feel so good in there, Jack,” Sam says, brushing the kid’s sweaty hair from his forehead with his free hand.

Jack squirms some more as Dean slides his fingers out and presses the head of his cock against the kid’s stretched hole alongside Sam’s finger, “Ready, sweetheart?” he asks, needlessly. Jack’s never once refused this, but every time they ask just to make sure. The Nephilim came to them that first time, red faced, asking to experience what it was that had Sam crying out in pleasure the night before. After some initial reservations on the brothers’ part it was ultimately too appealing to pass up and now there’s no going back unless Jack asks them to stop, but since he only seems to get needier all the time, it’s highly unlikely. It’s been months and none of them can get enough, and for Dean in particular, being granted permission never gets old.

“Son of a-,” Jack huffs, “I’m ready, stop teasing and fill me up.”

“Fuck, gonna do exactly that, baby boy, fill you like you’ve never been filled before,” Dean says around a groan as the head of his cock slides inside Jack, the slick of the lube and their combined come making it easy to push all the way in with one push.

Jack lets out a deep, satisfied moan at the feeling, his sweaty hand reaching back to scrabble over Dean’s thigh, “Gah, finally!” he pants, grinding his hips back to try and take Dean in deeper.

“God, Jack,” Sam says, leaning in close enough to almost kiss while he curls his finger to stretch the kid open more, “who knew you were going to be so cock hungry?” He looks over at his brother with a smirk before licking into Jack’s mouth while he works his finger as deep as he can inside.

“Sammy,” Dean says, purposefully keeping his thrusts slow, barely pulling out, loving the frustrated sounds coming from the Nephilim’s mouth at not getting what he wants yet, “get to work.” The pair part with a slip pop, Jack’s hand leaving Dean’s thigh to reach for Sam’s head in an attempt to keep the kiss going but the younger brother has already moved out down to his chest, kissing his way downwards. Dean angles his body so he can place an awkward kiss to Jack’s lips before kissing down his jaw and nuzzling behind his ear. He reaches out to roll one of the kid’s nipples between finger and thumb, trying to distract him from what’s coming. Another of Sam’s fingers rest against Jack’s rim, the back of his knuckles brushing against Dean’s balls and the older man stills his hips, “just relax,” he says into Jack’s sweaty skin when the pressure around his dick increases as his brother’s fingers pushing in alongside it.

Jack whimpers slightly, not anticipating the stretch, but that was the point, “Shh, ‘s’alright,” Sam coos, “let me in,” the words spoken around him pressing sloppy kisses to what Dean assumes is the younger man’s belly and hips, “gonna make you feel good.” There’s a muffled moan from Sam as he takes Jack’s cock into his mouth and the kids hips buck frantically, muscles squeezing tighter around Dean’s dick.

“Fuck, easy, kid, easy,” Dean pants, trying not to buck his own hips, “you like the way Sammy sucks your cock, right?” Jack's answer is an affirmative sound from the back of his throat as the wet sucking sounds get louder from where Sam’s working more enthusiastically. Jack’s ass flutters, drawing another moan from all three of them.

The older hunter shifts his body so the arm propping him up slips under Jack’s neck, holding him close while the other hooks under the kid’s knee, spreading him out more. Sam looks up at the change in position, meeting his brother’s eyes, soft pink mouth still full of their boy’s dick. They both nod and Dean rolls his hips slightly as Sam’s fingers press tighter together before he slips a third inside Jack’s stretched hole, pressing all the way in slowly but steadily.

“Fuck,” Jack says, slim body rocking as he grips the sheets with one hand and grips Sam’s shoulder with the other, “what are you doing?” he asks with a shaky voice.

“Shh,” Dean says into the sweaty hair at the nape of Jack’s neck, “you wanted filling up, that’s what we’re doing,” he presses a kiss to the flushed skin, “do you want to stop?”

Jack takes a couple of deep breaths and lets his body relax, “No, keep going,” he says, followed by another moan as Sam pumps his fingers in a counter rhythm to Dean’s hips. They keep that up until Jack seems to relax around them even more and Sam slips a fourth finger inside. The Nephilim tenses up again then, letting out a small wounded sound but immediately rolls his hips to push back onto the fingers and cock inside him.

“Jesus, Jack,” Sam pants after he pulls off their boy’s dick, working his fingers in at a steadier pace, “you look so fucking hot like this,” he spreads his fingers a little wider, twisting his wrist to get a better angle and pumps more firmly, opening the kid up as much as he can, “wish you could both see this.”

“Tell us,” Dean rasps, unable to stop himself thrusting into Jack a little faster, earning a moan of pleasure from the Nephilim.

The bed shifts as Sam gets up on his knees so he’s towering over both of them. He’s flushed and sweaty, cheeks and lips bright pink as he looks between Jack’s hole and his two lovers, “Pretty hole stretched so wide over us, Dean,” Sam says, voice low and rough, “pinky white just...here,” they both jerk when Sam’s thumb brushes over Jack’s rim then the base of Dean’s dick, “how does it feel, Jack?”

Their young lover’s breath hitches and Dean slams into him again, “Good, so good,” he sobs, “need more.”

Dean huffs out a laugh, “More? Sammy, I think you were right,” a hard thrust, his hips slamming against Jack’s perky cheeks, “his hole is so greedy,” he plucks one of Jack’s nipples and earns himself a whine and clench of internal muscles, “think you can really take more?”

“Y-yes!” Jack cries, answering just as Sam opens his fingers wider, “Sam, please, more.”

Sam’s answering moan and slick sound tells Dean that his little brother is stroking himself with the hand not stuffed inside the kid, “Fuck, yeah, alright,” he says, letting go of his cock and very slowly sliding his fingers out of Jack’s ass.

Their boy protests vocally and with his body, muscles fluttering and trying to hold Sam’s fingers inside him but it’s too late, “No, please,” he sobs, “Sam, you said…”

He’s cut off by Sam's lips slamming into his, manhandling him so he’s half sat up before he breaks the kiss, “Dean, pull out,” he says urgently, “gotta move into a better position.”

“Aww, come on, man,” Dean says, aware he’s whining but not caring. The last thing he feels like doing is giving up that exquisite heat he’s buried in, but he does it anyway, carefully slipping out because Jack may be stretched but he’s probably a little sore and the older man doesn’t want to hurt him by going too quickly. He and Sam have talked about the possibility of this, but now it’s here he’s going to be extra careful.

Somehow Jack gets up on hands and knees, looking between them with a look of desperation on his face, eyes lust blown, sweaty bed hair stuck up in all directions, “Why did you stop, did I do something wrong?” he rasps.

“Not at all, baby, just got something we think you’ll like better,” Sam replies, reaching out to take hold of Jack’s upper arm, tugging him closer as he positions himself against the headboard, guiding Jack to straddle his hips. He cradles Jack’s head in one of his huge hands and pulls him in for a deep kiss full of tongue, both of them moaning into it. He pats the Nephilim’s thigh with his free hand, encouraging him to raise up on his knees enough for Sam to position the head of his cock against Jack’s puffy, gaping hole. Dean groans like he’s the one being filled as he watches his brother sinking inside their boy, fucking up into the kid several times before the older hunter walks closer on his knees.

“Come on...” Jack says around a groan as he works his hips against the older man, following it up with a small gasp-whimper combo as Sam jerks the kid’s cock a few times.

Dean positions himself so that he’s in between Sam’s legs, hands on Jack’s slim hips, chest firmly against his back, pressing open mouthed kisses to the kid’s shoulder and neck. He looks over at his brother, holding his gaze for a few seconds before Sam nods again and a fresh wave of arousal burns through Dean’s body, they’re finally doing this.

“Lean forward, sweetheart,” he says into Jack’s ear, his heart beating faster as the boy immediately obeys, “that’s it. Just relax and enjoy this, let us take care of you,” he says as he slips pointer and middle fingers straight inside that fluttering heat.

Jack gasps, pushing back to meet the intrusion, “Dean,” he moans, a plea and a prayer at the same time, he lifts his head and leans forward a little more, “Sam…” he rasps, then there’s the slick sound of them kissing again.

Dean uses the temporary distraction to push his little finger into Jack’s heat and tug at the rim, holding him open enough to rest the head of his cock against it, the slick slide of Sam’s shaft against him making Dean shiver until his brother holds still. Very slowly Dean presses forward until there’s a give of muscle and he slips inside, gently withdrawing his fingers at the same time. Jack’s body goes rigid and he gasps as he pulls out of the kiss with Sam, “Shh, we got you,” Dean coos, pushing inside agonisingly slowly, rubbing Jack’s belly with one hand, the other taking a hold of the kid’s slippery wet cock and pumping him slowly.

Sam’s hand wraps around his, the other around the back of Jack’s neck, holding him there and looking him straight in the eye, “Let us in, baby,” he says, voice that soothing tone you use on frightened animals, “let us fill you right up, you trust us, don’t you?”

Jack lets out a strangled sob as Dean comes to a stop, all the way inside the almost painfully tight clutch holding them, the solid heat of his brother’s cock alongside his own. The older man wants to speak, wants to soothe Jack, too, but his breath is stolen from him when muscles flutter and tighten, causing Sam’s hips buck entirely of their own volition.

“Fuck,” Jack gurgles at the same time Sam mutters an apology, pulling his hand away from Dean’s on the kid’s cock and grabbing his shoulder, “ow, that’s...!”

Dean freezes all over, “Are you OK?” he asks, urgently, needing to know they’ve not gone too far, “Is it too much?” there’s silence for an agonising few seconds, with the exception of their panting breaths and the pounding of Dean’s heartbeat.

Jack takes a shaky breath, one hand slipping on Sam’s sweaty chest, the other reaching back to grip Dean’s thigh before he takes another breath and releases it. He makes a noise in the back of his throat as he moves his hips a fraction of an inch, muscles first clenching then relaxing. He wobbles slightly as he opens his legs wider where they’re bracketing the outside of Sam’s thighs, and arches his back, a broken moan slipping from his candy pink lips, “So...full…” he pants.

“But is it too much?” Dean repeats, needing to know, ready to pull out if needs be.

Jack shakes his head, drops of sweat running from his hairline down his neck, “Just give me a minute.”

Sam swallows audibly and casts a worried look in Dean’s direction, “We can stop, Jack,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the kid’s neck in a soothing gesture, “we should have asked, we just wanted to fill you right up.”

The Nephilim shakes his head again, the pressure around their cocks decreasing as he relaxes a little, “I didn’t know you could…” he pants, slowly rolling his hips and causing all three of them to gasp at the slide, “how is this possible?” he asks, the wonder clear in his voice.

“You’d be amazed what’s possible when it comes to sex,” Dean says around a smirk, earning himself a raised eyebrow from his brother, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, there’s still plenty we can teach you.”

“Dean,” Sam grits out, “really not the time,” there’s sweat beading on his upper lip and in the hollow of his throat, no doubt from the effort of holding back from moving like he wants to, “Jack,” he says, softer now, “I’m gonna pull out, OK? We can try anoth-”

He’s cut off by Jack’s loud, “NO,” and the kid’s hand moving from Sam’s chest to his bicep, the other releasing the grip on Dean’s thigh in favour of hooking around the back of his neck, the position pushing his shoulders closer to Dean’s chest, “Just go slow,” he says.

Sam looks between the two of them, “Shall I move?” he asks, voice a little uncertain.

Jack nods, threading his long fingers into the sweaty hair at the nape of Dean’s neck, nails scrabbling along his scalp when Sam thrusts, punching out a grunt out of the kid’s mouth even though there’s barely any force behind it.

“OK?” Sam asks, his breathing carefully measured as he fucks their boy at a painfully slow pace.

Jack’s answer is a groan because Dean chooses that moment to resume slowly pumping the Nephilim’s still hard shaft, thumbing the head, spreading his slick around to make the glide smoother, “So fucking wet, kid, you love being stuff so full, don’t you?” he rasps.

“Y-yes,” he says, his words and hips stuttering as Dean begins to thrust.

Dean’s had a lot of sex over the years, with Sam and with other people but right here and now, he’s never felt anything quite like it. He keeps his movements slow at first, moaning at the feeling of such a hot, tight space and the feeling of Sam’s cock sliding hot and hard against his as they work their hips almost in opposition so that there’s friction for both of them and Jack’s constantly kept filled.

The only sounds in the room for what could be minutes or hours is their breathing and moans, the slick sounds of lube and of Dean’s hand working Jack’s cock, until Sam starts to make urgent sounds in the back of his throat.

“Shit,” he says, “I’m getting close, Jack….hngh, can I move quicker?” Their boy lets out a loud groan in response, working his hips faster on their cocks, his breath hitching when Sam takes it as a yes and fucks up into the slim body harder and faster.

“Jesus,” Dean moans at the glorious friction and the rhythmic squeezing of Jack’s muscles as he moves, “Jack, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out,” he rasps, tightening his grip on the kid’s hip which must surely bear bruises in the shape of his fingers, already.

“Do it,” Jack whimpers, “fuck me harder.”

Sam grunts and speeds up, hips working faster and harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin getting louder as he does, “Gonna let us both come inside you again, baby?” he manages around heaving breaths, “Put it all up inside you so deep it’ll be leaking out all day?”

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean groans at the words, his brother’s sense of urgency now creeping into him as his own hips work faster, trying to keep a rhythm going but all three of them are working at different paces now, “you do want that, right, Jack?” he says, working his hand faster, needing to feel the boy come around them.

Needy little whimpers fall from Jack’s lips as he tries to speak, “Y-y-eah,” he manages, groaning when Sam shouts out before stilling, his cock twitching against Dean’s, coming hard, wet heat making the slide easier as the older man fucks into their boy harder and deeper. He winces as Jack’s nails dig into his scalp, letting out a strangled cry as his whole body arches, coming all over the hunter’s hand and his own chest and belly.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Dean chants, chasing his own orgasm, Sam cock still twitching against him while Jack’s muscles tighten and flutter around them both. He moves both hands to Jack’s hips, pulling him closer as he pounds into the kid, feeling and hearing the sound of his brother’s load leaking out of Jack’s hole and over Dean’s balls until the tension snaps and finally he comes with a shout, muffled by where his face is buried in the side of Jack’s neck.

He’s not sure he didn’t black out for a moment because when he comes back to awareness Jack is collapsed on Sam’s chest, pressing sloppy kisses to his chin while Sam rubs the kid’s back. Dean’s fingers are numb where he’s been gripping Jack’s hips but he manages to unclamp them, the slender body sliding a little lower when he does, two matching grunts as Sam slips out of Jack with a wet sound. Despite wanting nothing more than to collapse on top of his two lovers Dean somehow manages a few more thrust into Jack’s abused hole, riding out the aftershocks, feeling more wet heat slide out of the kid with every movement, fucking their come slowly out of him. That won’t do, so Dean slides two fingers through the sticky mess dribbling down Jack’s thighs and pushes it back inside as deep as he can. He watches as the kid’s gaping hole flutters, trying to grip the fingers pushing into him but not quite reaching because of how stretched he is at the moment, and fuck there’s something about that that Dean finds so hot. When their boy whimpers at the overstimulation he finally pulls out, collapsing to the side, wrapping his arm around Jack’s lower back and his brother’s waist at the same time.

“You OK, baby boy?” Sam asks, quietly. When there’s no answer he tries again, “Jack?”

The sound of muffled sobs makes Dean’s blood run cold, and despite the ache in his body and not having caught his breath yet he sits up, both his and Sam’s hands pushing the boy up from Sam’s chest so they can see his face.

“Jack, come on,” Dean says, hearing the desperation in his own voice. He cups the Nephilim’s chin and lifts his head, heart stuttering in his chest when tears pour down young cheeks, “Oh shit, I’m so sorry, sweetheart!” he says as his stomach clenches.

Sam pushes himself up on his elbow, in turn forcing Jack to sit up a little and cups their young lover’s cheek, “Jack, talk to us, please,” he says, breath hitching in a way Dean recognises as the start of panic.

Jack takes a deep, shaky breath and slowly blinks his eyes open, reaching out with unsteady arms to cup both of their faces and offers them a small smile, “I’m alright,” he sniffles, “just a little...it was pretty intense but I’m OK, promise.”

Sam’s sigh of relief is loud in the room as he flops back onto the bed, throwing one arm over his face.

“You had us scared, there, kiddo,” Dean says softly, pushing up to place a gentle kiss to Jack’s lips, tasting salty tears, then the kid’s own flavour as he lazily pushes his tongue into the older man’s mouth, both letting out a soft sigh when they break apart.

“Hey, what about me?” Sam says, trying to sound offended but there’s too much of a smile in it to be anything other than teasing. Jack leans down unsteadily to kiss him, too, before he all but collapses over both of them.

Dean shifts closer so the side of Sam’s body is moulded along the length of his and presses a soft kiss of his own to his brother’s lips.

“Sleepy,” Jack murmurs, letting his head rest on Sam’s shoulder and looping an arm around Dean’s waist to hold him close.

They all shift to get into a more comfortable position to ride out the afterglow, Sam somehow pulling up the sheet to cover them all, and soon Dean feels sleep drawing him under until Jack speaks again.

“I think I’d like you to hold me up next time, Dean, that way I can wrap my arms and legs around you. I know how much you like me doing that.”

Sam doesn’t open his eyes but keeps slowly stroking Jack’s back and when Dean glances over to him there’s a smile on his brother’s face. The older Winchester looks back to meet Jack’s gaze, “What makes you think there’s gonna be next time, huh, kid?” Deans says, trying to sound like he doesn’t care one way or another even though there’s a zing of fresh arousal down his spine at the thought of it.

“There will be,” Jack replies, knowing blue eyes twinkling with mischief despite the fucked out tiredness making his lids heavy, “you always give me what I want...you both do.” he says around a small yawn.

Dean wants to deny it but they all know it’s true, “When did you become such a little bitch? Sammy, this is all your fault!” he snips, sounding as disgruntled as possible even though he can’t help the fond eye roll.

“Go to sleep, jerk.” Sam replies around a laugh.

Jack’s happy, sleepy smile is the last thing he sees before they all drift off.

.

Supernatural: Something Inside Me That Pulls Beneath The Surface (Sam/OFC, Sam/Dean, NC-17)

2020-10-25T16:19:28Z

Title: Something Inside Me That Pulls Beneath The Surface
Pairing: Supernatural, main Sam/OFC, mentions of Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Snuff
Dark Sam Winchester, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Breathplay, Murder, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Minor Character Death

A/N: The basis of this fic is a re-working of something I first wrote under a different name with darker_fics on LJ (now mydarkrelief on AO3 and Tumblr) which was published way back in April 2013, just a little darker and with a tiny bit of Wincest thrown in!

Adrenaline soars through Sam’s veins with every clench of his fingers, every additional ounce of pressure he adds to the pliant flesh in his hands. The heady mix of power, of being completely in control makes him feel more alive than anything else. The arousal burning through his body only adds to it, making the sight and feel of the squirming, half dying figure under him all the more glorious. The girl claims to be twenty one but that’s bullshit if Sam’s ever heard it, the bottom line is that he just doesn’t care.

Easing up on his grip for just a moment Sam gifts a gulp of cold, refreshing, life giving air to his unlucky partner. He watches as relief floods through the young woman, her body relaxing, slightly, despite the fear in her swollen, bloodshot eyes. Sam slows his thrusts inside her as she gulps down air, then stills completely inside her soaking wet pussy, stroking her face and wiping away some of the tears soaking into the pillow beneath her in a mockery of comfort, “Shh,” he coos, smiling slightly, “it’s alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you, just breathe.”

Gradually, the girl’s breathing slows to a rhythm closer to normal, some of the fear slipping from her pretty, young features, slowly overtaken by a look of pleasure as Sam begins working his hips at a steady pace, making sure to grind down onto her clit so she feels pleasure while she still can - nobody can accuse him of being a selfish lover, that’s for sure.

Sam trails his fingers over the dark bruises already formed on whatever the fuck her name is’ throat, relishing the tightening of powerful muscles around his cock as she tenses up all over. He swivels his hips, now, enjoying the feeling of being buried in clenching heat as he thumbs one of the girl’s pierced nipples, tugging at the ring. Sliding his other hand from her throat he trails two fingers over his lover’s shoulder and upwards, following her outstretched arm to where her wrist is tied securely to the bed.

“P-please,” she whispers, her hoarse, pleading voice sending shivers down Sam’s spine.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, fucking into her with a little more force.

“More,” she gasps, “I like it.”

Sam drives his cock deeper into the willing body, gripping her restrained wrist at the same time. She arches beneath him as his hand wraps back around her throat, applying pressure. The hunter moans as his cock is squeezed tighter still, the girl’s eyes rolling back as she gives over to the sensation of being choked.

The sense of power hits Sam, again and he rides the wave of it, “Do you have any idea what you look like?” he smirks, knowing full well that she can’t answer him, “You don’t do you? Just like you have no idea what a stupid fucking slut you are.” Her eyes fly open, confusion clear in them. She tries to speak but Sam only squeezes tighter, cutting off more air. “Did you really think that hooking up with a total stranger and letting them tie you to the bed and choke you could possibly end well?” he snarls, “You barely even gave me your name before you were begging me to fuck you.”

Under the bulk of Sam’s body she stares at him with even wider eyes. He fucks into her harder and faster, so much so that it causes her to groan, probably in pain by this point, but the hunter figures he’s only giving her what she’d been so desperate for. Sam’s satisfied smirk grows as watches the young face, waiting for the penny to drop and for her to comprehend the trouble she’s in. A few more brutal thrusts and two more squeezes to her windpipe seems to do the trick. “That’s right, sweetheart, you’re going to die like this,” he laughs, “you’re gonna die with a stranger’s cock inside you and his hand around your throat. You really should have been more selective instead of agreeing to fuck the first guy who showed an interest in you.”

He holds tighter, raising up on his knees, slightly, to clamp his thighs around hers so he can feel the girl along his whole body as she struggles to get free. Attempting to shake her head, she bucks harder underneath him, feet scrambling to push him away. It’s impossible, Sam’s so much bigger, but feeling her try just gives him more of a thrill. He leans down and whispers into her ear, “You can fight, but you’re only making it better for me.” To prove his point he lets out a deep moan, feeling his orgasm building faster and faster. He brings both hands back to the bitch’s throat at the same time as he raises fully onto his knees, giving him the extra leverage he needs.

The slim body convulses under him, eyes bulging, more tears running down her face as her cheeks turn redder in contrast to the loss of colour in her lips under the remnants of her smeared off lipstick. The vibration from the choking sounds only adds to Sam’s pleasure, sending tingles through his skin and lighting up his nerves. He’s been strangled countless times himself over the years by ghosts, monsters, demons and all comers, and it was terrible every time. He remembers the desperate feeling, the terror, black dots swimming before his eyes as his lungs felt like they were about to explode, but on this side of it, it’s exhilarating.

Sam can feel the girl weakening, mouth going slack, arms sagging and her wrists lying limp against the ropes restraining him…it’s time. He gives a final squeeze around her throat, driving his hips forward twice more before he comes long and hard inside her, watching yet another life extinguished at his hand. With his breathing returning to normal, the hunter takes in the sight before him. Dark bruises have already formed on the slut’s pale throat, thin wrists rubbed red raw against the rope, with a trickle of blood running into the crook of her elbow. So innocent, so willing...so fucking stupid.

Sam smiles to himself as he leaves the rent by the hour motel room, once again dodging the CCTV which is probably only there for effect, but he still has to be careful. Dean will probably bitch about him taking forever to bring back food, but he doesn’t care. His brother’s always telling him he needs to get laid more often so if the older man gets too suspicious, Sam will say he banged the waitress in the bathroom. Dean won’t believe him, anyway, and he won’t care when his own dick is buried in his baby brother’s ass, later.
The younger Winchester never has any trouble rising to the occasion for his beautiful, damaged brother because he enjoys every filthy thing they do together, the things they’ve been doing for years, but if there was ever a time little Sam didn’t want to cooperate, all he has to think about what he’s been doing regularly for months, and he’ll be hard for hours.

Sam feels like he has more demon blood in his body that human, now, so why the fuck should he deny his dark side?

End notes: A decision was made to take the original fic called ‘Innocence Lost’ down in 2014 for personal reasons, but we’ve recently discussed it and decided to revive it. Even though the original was shorter and less detailed we thought it was important to point out the history in case anyone remembers it - it’s not plagiarism when it’s your own work!

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Supernatural: Virgin Territory (Let Me Be Your Guide) - J2, NC-17, 8/?

2020-10-22T12:25:37Z

Title: Virgin Territory (Let Me Be Your Guide)
Pairing: Supernatural RPS, Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Underage (Jensen is 14 at the start of the fic), see below for all tags

Age Difference, Begging, Body Worship, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Caretaking, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dry Orgasm, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Lap Sex, Loss of Virginity, Manipulative Relationship, Morally Ambiguous Character, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Promiscuity, Rimming, Secret Relationship, Size Kink, Teasing, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Virginity Kink, Dubious Consent, Don't Like Don't Read, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Heavy Angst

Summary: Everybody has kinks and fantasies, anyone who tells you otherwise is either a liar or they’re ashamed of what gets them hot and so they repress their desires. Jared isn’t like most people because he embraces his kinks and allows himself to indulge, never one to deny himself the pleasure of having exactly what he wants, and what he wants most, his biggest kink, is virgins. Nothing on this Earth gets him hotter than being someone’s first, guiding them through their sexual awakening, showing them the joys of sex, love and intimacy. He makes them feel as good as he possibly can, and in turn how to please him. When he buys a house next door to the Ackles family he has no idea his world is about to be turned upside down, all thanks to their beautiful and sexually inexperienced teenage son, Jensen.

A/N: This fic is darker than anything else I’ve written to date in that although Jared is a good guy for the most part, he does have a history of being manipulative to get what he wants when it comes to sex. He doesn’t actively go out seeking virgins, however when the opportunity presents itself he has no qualms in going after what he wants. It’s not for everyone - tags are there for a reason and they are comprehensive for the whole story even while in WIP status (more will be added if necessary), if you don’t like what you see there, don’t read the fic, it’s as simple as that!

A/N for chapter 8: Jensen learns more about Jared from his ex.

TW: mentions of suicidal thoughts

Jared flinches a little as Jensen stands beside him, an expression of a startled bunny on his face. The teen looks between the older man and the new arrival, expectantly, frowning a little when neither of them speak straight away. He hears Jared swallow and eventually he clears his throat and waves a hand at the guy standing in the doorway, glancing at him quickly before turning back to Jensen.

“Uh, coffee shop guy,” Jared says with a laugh that sounds forced, “sorry, man, I didn’t actually catch a name. A little unfair if you ask me, you get to know customers' names but we don’t know yours.” he rambles.

Something feels off but Jensen can’t place what it is, then to his surprise the guy raises an eyebrow like he can’t believe what Jared just said, his full mouth pinched in what seems to be distaste before it turns into a fake looking smile, “Well we do wear tags, people just don’t bother to take the time to read them!” he says in a flat tone and shoots what can only be described as a glare in Jared’s direction. He turns to Jensen and his smile seems to be much more genuine, maybe he only has a problem with people he thinks should know his name, “Hey, man,” he says, “I’m-”

“Jensen, a hand here, buddy?” Alan calls before the guy can finish speaking.

“Fuck,” the teen sighs, “catch you later,” he says, frowing at Jared on his way past to the kitchen for whatever he’s needed for this time.

“I don’t see why Dad couldn’t have done this,” he grumbles a few minutes later in his own kitchen as his mom loads up a tray with a fresh batch of chicken kebabs and sausages ready to go on the grill, “I’m not a servant.”

“Thank you for your help, honey,” his mom says in a sympathetic tone, stroking his hair, “and tell Jared I’m sorry Mac and I won’t make it, will you?”

“Sure,” he says, lifting the tray and heading towards the back door, there’s no way he’s going the long way around when he can go through the fence which is unlocked from earlier. He’s almost at the opening when he hears the unmistakable sound of hushed conversation. He doesn’t mean to listen but it’s hard not to, the voices are right on the other side of the fence.

“You didn’t catch my name...seriously, that’s the best you could do?”

“It’s the first thing that came to mind, kinda blindsided here, ya know?” comes the clipped reply.

There’s no mistaking Jared’s voice and the teen is immediately on edge, and from Jared’s tone it sounds like he is, too. Jensen throws a quick look behind him to make sure his mom hasn’t followed him outside and when he sees he’s alone, he creeps closer to listen.

“What the fuck are you even doing here, Jay? Is this some kind of weird stalkerly shit?”

“Are you insane?” the older man hisses, “Why the fuck would I do that?”

There’s a snort from the other guy, “I don’t know, it’s not like I ever had a clue what was going on in your head, is it? If I did I wouldn’t have been so…” his voice cracks a little on the last few words and Jensen’s heartbeat picks up with worry, he never likes hearing anyone upset.

“Jesus, I’m not stalking you, don’t be so ridiculous. I moved in a few months ago, it was time to get out of shitty apartments and here seemed a nice place. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“We’ve been here five years, my parents thought a change of scenery might help after…” a humourless laugh followed by a long silence, “well, you do remember what state I was in five years ago, right, Jay?” he says with more venom than Jensen thinks he’s ever heard.

Jared lets out a loud sigh and Jensen doesn’t need to see his face to know that the man will be frowning, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” he says quietly.

“Yeah well you did, but if you didn’t mean to it’s all OK then isn’t it?” the guy spits.

“That’s not fair,” Jared says, sounding distressed, “it wasn’t easy for me, either. I didn’t plan on things turning out how they did.”

“Bullshit, you knew exactly what you were doing all along. I’m not stupid enough to think I was the first and I’m sure I’m not the last, but after a year I thought you actually gave a shit, more fool me. There’s probably a whole parade of people you’ve fucked and forgotten about since then, though, no doubt you have some pubescent virgin twink fawning over you already, just your style, right?”

“Keep your fucking voice down,” Jared hisses, “this isn’t the time or the place.”

“Oh fuck you, Jared,” the younger man says, anger and pain clear in his voice, “you just don’t want all of your dirty little secret coming out.”

The sound of footsteps walking away follows and Jensen thinks it’s over, but that’s when Jared speaks again.

“Sweetheart, wait…”

“Don’t you dare call me that, you piece of shit. I gotta get out of here, stay the fuck away from me or I swear I’ll tell everyone what you’re really like.”

Even over the thundering of his heart Jensen can hear the footsteps disappearing. As the words he’s been overhearing sink in, it’s Jared’s last words that cut like a knife. The sound of his lover calling someone else by that pet name makes his stomach roll. This guy is Jared’s ex, there’s no doubt in the teen’s mind and it’s clear he’s not just any ex, he’s the one, the guy who fucked Jared up when it ended five years ago. The teen’s chest hurts and he feels sick. His breath is shaky and so are his legs, but in the back of his mind he knows he can’t stand there forever. He doesn’t want Jared to know he’s overheard the conversation even though there are so, so many questions running through his mind from just that snippet of conversation.

“Hey, buddy,” he hears his dad say, “is Jensen not back yet?”

Jared clears his throat, “Shit, you scared me,” he says around a startled laugh, “Uh, I didn’t know he’d gone anywhere.”

“Yeah, I sent him to get more meat from our fridge,” Alan replies, “I’ll go and see what’s keeping him.”

That spurs Jensen into action, he takes a couple of deep breaths and tries to steady himself before he takes a step to the side from his hiding spot and walks through the gate, “Here you go,” he says, voice sounding less shaky than he feels, thankfully. He drags his eyes up to meet Jared’s and sees an expression on his face that he can’t name. He thinks it’s somewhere between panic, hurt and confusion but he can’t be sure, “mom says sorry but her and Mac aren’t gonna make it over today after all.”

Jared nods, “That’s a shame, I hope Mac feels better soon,” he holds out a hand and for a moment Jensen thinks he’s encouraging him into a hug, then realises it’s for the tray he’s holding, “I better get these on before people start pouring out here baying for my blood.”

Jensen nods and says nothing, dropping his arms to his sides once he’s relieved of the load, then into the back pockets of his jeans so nobody sees his shaky hands, “I’m gonna…” he nods to the door his dad is already walking back through, “head in and get a drink...mingle and shit.”

Jared’s face drops when he says that but the older man recovers quickly, “Mingling is overrated,” he says with a forced laugh, “stay out here with me, you can be in charge of the grill if you like. I trust you not to burn the place down.”

The teen knows the offer is Jared’s way of having him close - and by extension keeping him away from the ex - but the smell of cooking is doing nothing to ease the nausea he feels, “Nah,” he shakes his head, “I’m good, thanks.” He hears Jared’s questioning noise as he turns away, but he doesn’t look back.

Almost an hour and much procrastinating and stressing later, Jensen finally works up the courage to go over to the mystery guy. He's watched as the man has made polite conversation with people he obviously knows, and he looks about as uncomfortable as Jensen feels. Under the guise of getting himself a drink Jensen stands next to the taller man by the kitchen counter, offering him a small smile, “Hi,” he says, “Hell of a spread isn't it?” his voice is surprisingly steady, much to his relief.

“Sure is,” the guy says, rolling his eyes, “it looks like Jay's feeding the five thousand, he always has to go all out, overachieving bastard!” There’s that pinched look to his face again as he looks at all the food laid out, but his smile is friendly when he looks back, “It's Jensen, right?”

“Yeah,” the teen says, taken by surprise, “have we met before? I'm sorry if we have, I don't remember.”

The older guy shakes his head, “It’s cool, it was a while ago. You were pretty young when we moved in so you probably won't remember,” he holds a large hand out towards Jensen which the een looks at for a moment, torn over whether he wants to touch someone who’s also touched Jared in the same ways he has, a small surge of jealousy under his skin until he comes to his senses, it would look odd if he doesn’t play along. He reaches out, ready to shake, “I’m-” the guy is cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Hey, kids, what's going on here?” Jared says in a voice that's far too cheerful to be genuine, even for him, “Making friends?” the look on his face is nervous to say the least and Jensen feels his stomach squirm, not sure how to feel.

“Making introductions,” the teen says, looking away from Jared but he can almost feel the heat coming from his body where the older man is standing barely a couple of inches away from him, “so, where were we?” he asks, holding out his own hand this time.

“Colin,” the guy says and takes Jensen’s hand in a firm grip, “Colin Ford, Don and Kim are my parents.”

“Riiight,” Jensens says with a nod, “number twenty right?”

“That’s us,” Colin replies, “nice to meet you.”

“You...,” Jensen pauses when he feels the heat of Jared’s hand on his lower back, unable to stop his muscles stiffening at the touch, “you too,” he finally gets out.

“So do you guys need anything else? Plenty to go around,” Jared asks as he slides his hand up Jensen’s back to lightly grip the back of his neck in what feels like a possessive gesture even though it’s probably meant to appear friendly, “Jensen here helped with a lot of the prep, Jay’s little soux chef,” he says with a laugh. Despite his better judgement the teen turns to look at him, caught off guard by the soft smile on his lover’s lips.

“I’m not little,” he grumbles, stepping forward slightly to reach a bottle of Coke, meaning Jared’s hand slips from his neck, “and stop referring to yourself in the third person, Jay, it’s fucking weird.” It comes out a little harsher than he meant and he immediately feels guilty for drawing attention to himself. He turns back to the older man who’s looking at him with a small frown, “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Jared laughs and smiles fondly, again, “So sensitive, you know what I meant. You’ve been a big help, Jen, really, thank you.”

“We’re fine here, Jared,” Colin says in a flat tone, “maybe you should check on your other guests and leave us kids to it.”

Jensen fills the awkward silence by pouring himself a glass of Coke but his hands are sweaty and the bottle slips, spilling the sticky liquid all over the sideboard, “Shit!” he hisses, quickly putting the bottle down on the side, grabbing a handful of kitchen towel to mop up the spill and tossing it in the bin before he ducks down to the cupboard under the sink to pull out the surface spray and a dishcloth. He quickly wets the cloth, sprays the lemon scented liquid onto it and starts cleaning up the counter. It’s only when he’s rinsed the cloth and pulled out a fresh towel from the drawer to dry his hands that he realises that still nobody is speaking. He looks over to see if Jared has left but he’s still there, watching Jensen work, and when he turns to Colin he has a small frown on his face.

“You sure know your way around Jay’s...” he pauses with a small shake of his head, “Jared’s kitchen. Do you spend a lot of time here, Jensen?”

“Uh…” the teen replies, dumbly, saved from thinking up a reasonable answer when Jared speaks up.

“Like I said, he helped a lot with the prep work,” his tone not quite sharp but certainly not friendly, either.

“Right, and the gym thing,” Jensen’s mouth says without his brain’s permission.

“The gym thing?” Colin asks, the frown increasing.

“Yeah, Jared’s letting me use his gym upstairs. I want to put on some muscle mass so he’s helping me get into shape.” he replies, sweeping a hand up and down his body to indicate the obviousness of his slim frame.

Colin blinks a couple of times and his eyes follow Jensen’s motions before he folds his arms over his chest as best he can with a beer bottle in his hand. He looks over at Jared with what’s clearly meant to be a blank expression but fails, mouth pinched and his jaw flexing before he speaks, “Yeah, I’ll just bet he is!” he snorts. He looks back to Jensen, “Just be careful, alright, kid? Sometimes we don’t realise how hard we’re being pushed until it’s too late. You gotta learn your limits and know when to say no...and make sure you do say no.”

Jensen’s heartbeat soars while his stomach does somersaults, surely that can’t mean what he thinks Colin means? Can it?

“Alright, that's enough!” Jared says, leaning over and stretching a long arm in Colin’s direction to fish the beer from his grip, “I think someone had enough of this for today, don't you? Are you even old enough to be drinking, Colin?”

Colin snorts, but releases the bottle, “Oh, I think we can all agree we've all done things we weren't old enough to do, ain't that right Jay?”

All three of them jump at the sound of someone next to them, “Hi guys,” says Kim, brightly, “looks like you three are getting on well!” She looks between them and smiles, patting Colin’s cheek, “it's good to see you making friends at home, honey, maybe now you won't spend so much time on your own.”

“Mom!” Colin hisses, “leave it will you? I'm surrounded by people all the time at college and the coffee shop, I just want a bit of peace and quiet when I come home!” he turns to Jensen and places a large hand on the teen’s shoulder, heat bleeding through the cotton of his t-shirt and Jensen can't help but notice the similarity in size to Jared’s hand, “I'll see you around, kid,” he glances quickly over at Jared before looking back, “come over if you want to talk about anything, yeah?”

“Er, yeah, bye,” Jensen replies with a small nod, feeling both relief and a little distress at Colin’s sudden departure. He wants to hate the man but he also knows they have something in common and it kinda makes the teen want to know more about him...and about Jared’ past with him, because apparently he’s a masochist and needs even more angst.

“I wish he’d spend more time with other people,” Kim says with a sad look on her face, “he used to be such an outgoing boy when he was younger, but of course that was before he…” she pauses, obviously having said more than she should have done, “anyway I guess I should be going too. Thanks again for stepping in, Jared, it was really good of you. This is all amazing. You've set the bar so high you realise the rest of the neighbourhood is going to hate you, now, right?” she teases.

Jared laughs, “My pleasure, and as for setting the bar that's not something I can help I'm afraid. I tend to go a little overboard, people have always called me an overachiever!” he laughs again, the smile on his face fading and turning to a slight frown as he looks at Jensen.

The teen’s stomach has dropped even more, unsure whether it’s coincidence that Jared has just used the word overachiever, or whether he overheard all of Colin and Jensen's conversation without them realising. He takes a deep, steadying breath and puts on the best smile that he can, “I’m gonna get going, too,” on autopilot he reaches up half pats and half strokes Jared's bicep. As soon as he realises what he's done he pulls back quickly as if he's been burnt, hoping nobody but Jared noticed.

Jensen waits for Kim to turn and leave before quickly facing the older man fully, “Thanks for having me over, Jared,” he says in his friendliest tone, completely fake for anyone who might be in earshot, even though his stomach is still wobbly, “See you...whenever.”

Jared looks around the kitchen and when he seems satisfied that no one is looking directly at them he leans down and quietly says, “Is everything OK, sweetheart? You don't seem yourself, you're not coming down with that bug as well are you?”

“I'm fine,” Jensen says snaps, his blood instantly boiling at Jared using the pet name so soon after saying it to Colin, “I'm just tired is all, between you and my dad I've barely had a break this weekend and I still have homework to do.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jared says, disappointment evident on his face. It makes Jensen feel guilty for being the one to put it there, even though he’s currently hurt and angry at the man, “Thanks again for your help, I mean it, Jen, I couldn’t have done this without you.”

The teen nods and offers a tired smile, “Sure, I’m gonna find Dad and tell him I’m leaving.” he gets two steps away before the weight of Jared’s hand is on his shoulder.

“Jen,” he says, quieter still, looking around again, “can you come back later? We’ve hardly had any alone time, I wanna hold you.”

Jensen swallows the lump in his throat, “I don’t think so, like I said, homework. I need an early night.”

The older man nods and sighs, “I get it, sorry, guess I just wanted some proper time with you. I miss you when you’re not around.”

He looks totally dejected and despite his turmoil Jensen wants nothing more than to throw himself into the man’s arms for a hug that would comfort them both, but instead makes a quick exit, his head spinning and his heart aching.

It’s been four nights of barely any sleep for Jensen and he’s running on empty, both physically and emotionally. He missed his Tuesday gym session with Jared without explanation and has so far successfully managed to avoid the man, but knows that can’t last forever. His mom has told him Jared called around earlier when Jensen should have been home from school to check in on him and the teen promised her he’d apologise to Jared for not telling him he wasn’t going for their regular evening slot. He’s due there tonight, too, but he’s made his mind up that there’s something he needs to do first before he can face Jared again.

The after school crowd has died down in the coffee shop across town, Jensen made sure to take his time walking there for that very reason, the less people the better. When he enters the shop Colin is behind the counter as expected. Kim was more than happy to share what time his shift ended when Jensen saw her in the driveway this morning and asked after him, seemingly delighted that they must have hit it off at the barbeque enough to hang out. He takes a couple of deep breaths and approaches the counter.

Colin finishes serving the customer in front and turns his head, customer service smile plastered on his face, “Hi, what can I get for…,” the smile changes to a confused look, “Jensen, er, hi… what are you doing here?”

The teen licks his dry lips and swallows the nervous lump in his throat, “Hey, I was hoping we could hang out…maybe talk,” he replies, speeding up when it looks like Colin’s going to object, “after your shift, I mean. Your mom said you finish at five thirty, I can get a table and wait. It’s no problem, I brought a book with me.”

Colin’s face takes on a frustrated look, “Of course she did,” he sighs, “why would she ever stay out of my business?” he shakes his head, “Sorry, man, not your fault.”

“That’s OK,” Jensen replies, “I guess I shouldn't have just shown up here, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry,” he gestures to the door behind him, “I can just go.”

“No, no, it’s fine, just caught me by surprise is all,” Colin says with a small smile, “truth be told it’s nice to see a friendly face around here. What can I get you, Jensen?”

The teen feels a huge sense of relief at Colin’s reaction and offers him a small smile which the man returns, “Large Americano, black with extra shot, please,” he looks over the selection of cakes and pastries, “uh, what’s good?” he asks, spoilt for choice.

“Everything,” Colin laughs, patting his belly, “too good. The blueberry muffins are my favourite, though.”

Jensen’s stomach wobbles and he feels his face go pale as he immediately thinks of Jared feeding him the batter mix in his kitchen and he shakes his head, “No, absolutely not.”

Colin frowns slightly but says nothing about Jensen’s reaction, “In that case I’d say go for the Tiramisu muffin, it’ll go well with your coffee.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” Jensen replies, digging money out of his pocket and putting it on the counter while Colin puts the muffin that looks like it has the most frosting onto a plate, then puts the plate on a tray.

“Take a seat, I’ll fetch it over when the coffee’s ready.”

Forty five minutes later Jensen looks up from his book at the sound of someone approaching the table. Colin holds up a set of keys, “Wanna go for a drive, take the long way home?”

The teen nods, feeling grateful that they won’t have to rush, “Yeah, that’d be good.”

Colin drives them to some old, abandoned warehouses Jensen didn’t even know were there, shuts off the engine and shifts in his seat so he’s turned towards the teen, “I come out here when I need to think, it’s peaceful.”

“Kinda creepy, too,” Jensen replies with an amused smile.

Colin laughs and nods his head, “I guess so, hadn’t really thought about it. Don’t worry, I won’t get the ghosts or serial killers get you!”

The teen laughs at that despite the building nerves and swirling in this stomach, “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Colin replies, his smile turning into a serious look, “I’m guessing this is about Jared?”

Jensen nods and looks away, momentarily, “Yeah,” he replies, voice rough where his throat feels like it’s closing up a little, “it’s pretty obvious you two have history.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything,” the teen says, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans, “well not as such, I, uh… I overheard your conversation at the barbeque, didn’t take a genius to put two and two together,” he looks over at Colin again who’s pressing his lips together and nodding, “I mean he mentioned in the past that he was with someone for a long time five years ago who he cared deeply about, so…” he waves a hand in the man’s direction, “had to be you.”

“He ‘cared deeply’ about me?” Colin shakes his head derisively, “yeah, right. Funny way of showing it, didn’t even bother himself to come and check on me, the whole town knew I was in hospital but he didn’t a fuck,” he spits. He rubs his forehead and lets out a sigh, staring out of the window for what feels like forever before he turns back to Jensen with an imploring look on his face, “Jensen, listen to me, I don’t know how much bullshit he’s fed you but you can’t listen to him. He’s bad news, he’ll say anything to get what he wants and he doesn’t care who he hurts in the process.”

The teen’s heart feels like it’s trying to escape from his throat, “You were in hospital? What happened?” he asks, ignoring Colin’s other words for the time being.

Colin closes his eyes and rests his head back on the seat, his chest rising and falling quickly until he gets his breathing under control. When he looks back at Jensen there are tears in his eyes, “You have to understand, I’d just turned fifteen when we split and he was my whole world, he’s an expert in making it feel that way. When he left I didn’t see any point in carrying on…” he tails off, undoing the straps of the thick leather cuff on his left wrist to show a faded but clear scar, approximately four inches long up his arm, “I was young and stupid, I’m not proud of it,” he finishes with a sad smile.

“Holy shit!” Jensen gasps, stunned at what he’s seeing, “I’m...I can’t imagine how awful that must have been,” his chest aches for Colin despite barely knowing him, nobody should feel so in pain that they only see one end to it, “wait,” he says as something clicks into place, “he knew about this?” when he gets a nod in response he shakes his own head, “No, no, I don’t believe that. Jared may not be perfect but he’s not that cruel, I’m sure of it!”

“Oh my God, Jensen, do you think I’d lie about something like that?” Colin practically shouts, “This is what he does, he makes you believe he’s a good guy when really he’s a heartless, manipulative monster who preys on who knows how many teenagers like you and me? Let me guess, you’re what, fourteen or fifteen...obviously a virgin, probably never been kissed or touched until he came along? I bet he’s told you he wants you even though he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t resist you, right? Told you he’s not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, that he cares about you too much to push you into anything...that you have to ask him for what you want him to ‘teach’ you… am I close?”

With every word coming out of Colin’s mouth Jensen feels more sick, heart thumping in his chest and temples, his stomach rolling, a cold sweat of panic forming on his skin. He tries to speak but he’s lost for words, so he just nods. He feels tears slip down his cheeks as he tries to get air into his lungs, breath hitching as he does. He feels numb and a little dizzy. He blinks out of his daze when he feels Colin’s thumb brushing away his tears.

“I’m so sorry, Jensen,” Colin says, softly, a look of sad disappointment in his eyes, obviously taking no pleasure in being right, “if I’d said something sooner you wouldn’t be in this situation. That’s why you need to know what he’s really like. As soon as I saw you I just knew you were just his type,” he keeps stroking the teen’s cheek, “those big, trusting eyes...that mouth…” he pulls his hand away, “you’re beautiful, of course he couldn’t help himself. It doesn’t make it right, though, you understand that, don’t you?”

Jensen nods even though his mind is racing, screaming no even though everything Colin is saying rings true. They sit in silence while Jensen tries to gather his thoughts, “What do we do now?”

“That depends on you.” Colin replies, “Can I ask you how far things have gone between you?”

“What?” Jensen asks, shocked, “You mean like details?”

“God no,” Colin replies, looking aghast, “dude, that’s not what I’m asking. Well, I am but not for my own interests...I mean have you, you know, gone all the way? If you haven’t then there’s still time to walk away before he does any more damage, or to…” he trails off.

“To what?” Jensen asks, frowning.

Colin sighs and grips the steering wheel, “To gather evidence against him, if that’s what you wanted to do. He can’t keep getting away with it, Jensen. If you…” he looks away, swallowing audibly before turning back, “if you can be braver than me and go to the Police, put a stop to it. I can back you up, there’s a pattern. It’s all historical for me but you, you can make sure they catch him in the act now before he dumps you and moves onto another victim.”

“I’m not a victim!” Jensen grits, feeling a surge of anger at the word, “I can’t do that to him… I don’t want to do that, it’s not…”

“It’s not what? Not fair? Do you think it’s fair for him to use vulnerable people for his own sick desires, break their hearts and not give a shit?”

“He does give a shit, he cares about me,” Jensen replies, defiantly, refusing to believe that everything Jared has told him has been lies, “how do I know you’re not the one lying to me, huh? He’s told me about you, he told me he thought he loved you. You were different, he was fucked up when things ended. Did you know there’s not been anyone else since you until now?” he raises his voice even as Colin opens his mouth to speak, “He’s told me there have been others before me. Why would he incriminate himself like that if he was such a monster? Did he tell you about the others?” he’s almost out of breath, “Well? Did he make out that you were the only one?”

“No, he didn’t tell me anything, I figured it out because that’s what predators do, Jensen, there’s never just one,” Colin says, his tone full of exasperation, “maybe he’s just got cocky and wanted to brag which is all the more reason to go to the Police now, you can tell them everything he’s told you. You might be able to get more details from his past...people like him don’t change, Jensen, he’ll keep doing it until he’s stopped.”

The teen is having trouble catching his breath. His head is all over the place, unsure what to believe, Colin sounds so sincere, but then so did Jared. He doesn’t know what to think, who to believe and he feels like a fool for being torn like this. He takes some deep breaths, trying to calm his mind as well his body so that he can think clearer, “Take me home,” he says, eventually. Colin looks like he’s going to argue, but after a while nods and start the engine.

Neither of them speak another word until they pull up outside Jensen’s house, then it’s Colin who breaks the silence, “Are you going to tell your parents? Do you want me to be there when you do?” he asks softly.

The teen’s mind has been running through scenarios in his head for the duration of the drive and he’s made his mind up, “I’m not doing anything until I’ve spoken to Jared.” he says, evenly.

“Are you fucking crazy? Jensen, he’s just going to manipulate you some more, don’t let him do it! Come on, man, you’re smarter than that!”

Against all rational thought Jensen feels strangely calm, “My mind is made up,” he says, simply, opening the car door and not looking back.

He sits through dinner with his family, makes small talk with them until it’s time to shower and head next door for his scheduled gym time with Jared. Only when he’s standing outside the man’s door does he start to feel anxious again, but right now he doesn’t feel angry even though somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he should be.

The look of relief on Jared’s face when he opens the door is the only thing that makes the teen’s step falter, slightly. Once inside he walks straight into the kitchen and stands in the middle of the room, waiting for Jared to trail behind him. Long arms pull him into a tight hug, the older man’s hand threading into Jensen’s hair, holding him in place.

“God I missed you, Jen, it’s been a really long week.” Jared says in between pressing kisses to his temple. When the teen doesn’t respond in any way he pulls back, a look of confusion clear on his face, “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, lifting a hand to touch Jensen’s face but the teen stops him by gripping his wrist.

“How many virgins have you talked into your bed, Jared? Did you leave them all a broken mess like you did Colin? Is that what you plan on doing to me? And don’t you fucking dare lie to me.”

.

Supernatural: When in Rome... (Sam/Dean, NC-17)

2020-10-07T18:46:54Z

Title: When in Rome...
Pairing: Supernatural, Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Underage (Sam is 15), references to torture, threat of non-con, heavy angst

Summary: Written in response to a Tumblr ask: In hell if Dean agrees to fuck a version of Sam he'll be taken off the rack for a day. What form of Sam would he choose?

A/N: There is the threat of non-con in here, but all explicit content is fully consensual.

One minute Dean’s body is yet again sliced, carved and torn in ways he could never imagine, and the next he’s made whole by the power of whatever freaky magic Hell uses to heal people after a whole day of torture on the rack. Even now, just days shy of thirty years of this he breathes a sigh of relief at the all too temporary reprieve, knowing it won’t last more than the few minutes it takes for Alistair to make him the same offer he’s made every day since Dean’s arrival in the pit. It’s getting harder and harder to tell the demon to go and fuck himself, a sick feeling in his stomach every time, knowing this could well be the last time he has the strength to say no. He’s heard tales of people breaking after just a year, some lasted five and even fewer lasted ten so compared to that he’s been fighting far longer than anyone else, but everyone has their limits.

The familiar sound of Alistair’s footsteps approaching makes him tense up, his heart beating faster as the demon stands alongside him and wipes blood off his giant knife with a rag. He has a bored looking expression on his face, as if putting the hunter through so much pain had lost its appeal, “Dean, Dean, Dean...” he says in that nasally whine of his, “what am I to do with you?” he starts to scrape dried blood from under his nails with the tip of the blade, “I think it’s time I made you a new offer.”

Dean frowns, unable to stop himself fully lifting his head up in surprise at the unexpected change in events, “Whatever it is the answer’s still no, asshole,” he spits.

A truly evil smirk crosses Alistair’s face as he bends down close to Dean’s, his putrid breath hot and moist against sweaty and bloody skin as he speaks, “Hmm, I think not. I’ve been inside your head,” he strokes the back of his hand almost tenderly down his victim’s cheek and Dean had to resist the urge to puke, “I know what you want, Deano, I know all of your depraved fantasies. And about your own brother, no less...”

“You don’t know shit!” Dean shouts, heart racing even faster with panic. There’s very little he’s been able to keep to himself in his time here but he’s sure his feelings about Sammy have been so tightly caged that no-one would find out...well, sure until now, but demons lie all the time.

“Come now, Dean, you can’t hide anything from me. All those memories of times you’ve wanted to do so many decidedly non brotherly things to Sam, they’re…” he presses a long finger to Dean’s temple and taps in time with his words, “right...in...here.”

“That’s bullshit,” the hunter replies, struggling against the hooks holding him down on the rack, knowing it’s futile but doing it anyway, “my job is to take care of Sammy and that’s what I’ve done.”

“Mmm, that’s true,” the demon replies, taking a painful grip on Dean’s chin so he’s forced to keep eye contact with the black eyed bastard, “you’ve almost been a saint, you never touched him but ohhh, you’ve wanted to for so, so long, haven’t you? I’ve seen countless thoughts about how you’ve watched him, imagining the filthy things you’d like to do to him if only you had the chance. All the times he’s come out of the bathroom in just a towel, you couldn't take your eyes off that gorgeous flesh, could you? You can’t tell me feeling his body against yours the night you went to get him from Stanford didn’t feel good, that’s why you pushed him off you when he pinned you to the floor, isn’t it? You liked it but you didn’t want poor, beautiful, innocent Sammy to feel you getting hard for him, didn’t want him to know about your sick desires for him, did you, sweetheart? I can’t say I blame you, he’s a very handsome young man after all.”

Mortification floods through Dean’s body at the words, he could deny it all he wants but if Alistair has been able to see that then he must have seen more, too, “Shut the fuck up!” he snaps, closing his eyes, trying to get the pictures and desires that have haunted him for years out of his head.

“Ohhh, I don’t think so, my boy,” the demon singsongs, his voice full of glee, “what about that time not too long ago when Sammy made you promise to kill him. I can see it in your mind, Dean, him pleading with you, holding you, leaning in so close, your face in his hands…it took everything you had not to kiss him, I can tell. But that’s not all you thought about, was it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean says through gritted teeth, grunting in pain as Alistair's grip tightens on his chin.

“Now you’re just lying, do I need to cut your tongue out just to teach you a lesson, Dean?”

The hunter’s breaths come even faster, now, his eyes snapping open because the bastard has done that more than once so Dean couldn’t beg for the torture to stop, but the screams still echoed from his throat and Alistair fucking revelled in it. Of all the things Dean’s suffered, that's one of the things that hit him hardest, “No,” he rasps, shaking his head.

“Tell me what you wanted to do to Sam that night...and don’t spare the details,” when Dean glares at him the only sign the demon has registered it is how his mouth is pinched slightly, “tell me and I’ll make you the new offer,” the tone is casual - too casual - and the calmness is terrifying because the torture master always ups his game when Dean gets particularly defiant.

Dean closes his eyes again, fighting the tears of shame that are burning behind the lids, “I wanted to touch him,” he croaks around the lump in his throat, “lying there, ass up in the air, looking all…” he pauses, his breath hitching with guilt.

“Go on, darling,” Alistair coos, the glee evident in his voice, “looking all what?”

The pet names the bastard insists on using makes Dean’s skin crawl, but he somehow pushes on, “vulnerable...pliant, and...”

“Fuckable.” the demon finishes for him, “You wondered what it would be like to strip him, climb onto the bed and sink into that perfect ass, didn’t you?”

A single tear escapes and runs down Dean’s face before he lets out a sob, nodding his head only slightly.

Alistair gently thumbs away the tear, leaning in to whisper into his plaything’s ear, “Delicious, Dean, you have such potential.”

“Fuck you!” Dean hisses, a fresh wave of disgust for both himself and the demon rolling through him.

Alistair’s chuckle sounds so out of place that Dean blinks his eyes open and looks at him again, even though he’s worried about what expression he’ll see. He’s surprised when the look is almost fond, his eyes crinkling as he looks at Dean like he’s something precious, and it makes the hunter feel sick.

“Very tempting offer,” he smirks, turning to run his eyes over Dean’s naked form before trailing his fingers from shoulder to ass, palming one of the firm cheeks. When Dean tenses the hell spawn ghosts a finger over his crack, keeping it there for a few seconds, no doubt to savour the fear before he pulls away and walks back to face the hunter, “but that’s a pleasure I’m saving for later. No, let me be clear...I want you to fuck Sam, Dean. Do that and I’ll take you off the rack for a day.”

“What? No,” Dean barks out, disbelievingly, “you’re a sick fuck.”

Alistair throws his head back and lets out a deep belly laugh which causes Dean to shiver in disgust. When the demon looks back at him he raises his arms, knife still clutched in one hand, “Look around you, darling, sickness and depravity is our lifeblood,” he leans in close again, “go on, you know you want to,” he says, like he’s trying to cajole Dean into an extra piece of pie instead of fucking his own brother, “pick a fantasy and I’ll make it happen. It won’t be real so you won’t be hurting your precious little Sammy, but it’ll feel real, so real you won’t know the difference. You can be free to take exactly what you’ve wanted for so long. I can make him desperate and begging for your cock, or you can tie him up and use him as you see fit. He doesn’t even have to be a willing participant, in fact it’s so much more fun that way. Nobody’s judging you, Dean...think of how good it would be to see your beloved brother, again. Don’t you want to know what it’s like to kiss him, to touch him, to finally fuck that sweet little ass you’ve dreamed of for years, my dear? Wouldn’t that be so much better than feeling my little toys on your flesh?”

To say Dean is conflicted would be the understatement of the fucking century. This is just another twisted way for Alistair to mess with his head even more. He wants the excruciating pain to stop, of course he does, but can he really let the bastard get to him like this? He’s trying to push the thoughts of just seeing Sam away, it’s too painful, like someone’s crushing his heart in their fist, but on the other hand seeing even a fake version of his brother after nearly thirty years is ultimately too hard to resist. Defeated, he lets his body sag against the hooks, knowing that while he’s whole they don’t really hurt him, not compared to everything else, and he hears the smug laugh the demon lets out.

“I need you to say it, Dean.”

With guilt heavy in his stomach Dean lifts his head and glares at the creature. He's already in Hell, what's the worst that can happen? “Fine, take me off the rack and I’ll fuck Sammy.”

Alistair puts his knife down on the trolley alongside the small selection of what Dean’s painfully aware is a vast collection of his instruments of torture and kneels down in front of him, lifting both hands to cup Dean’s face, “Good boy,” he says, “now what’s it to be?”

The position Dean’s held in means he can’t turn away, though he angles his head away from the demon just on principle, “What?” he asks, confused.

“The fantasy, what’s it to be?” he slides his hands up and presses his fingers to each of Dean’s temples, “Let me in and your wish is your command.”

Another wave of nausea rolls in Dean’s stomach, both at the demon and at himself as he closes his eyes and allows a memory to fill his mind, one which over the years has morphed into one of his go to jerk off fantasies. He holds his breath and waits...and waits. He opens his eyes and looks at Alistair, terrified for a moment that this was the torture, that he’s let the bastard see too much and he’ll forever use Dean’s shame against him, but what he sees is a look of mild surprise.

“Well, well,” the demon says as a gleeful look spreads across his features, “isn’t that just delicious?” he wags a finger at Dean as his expression changes to one that’s almost pride, the nasally whine is back, “You definitely wouldn’t have gotten into Heaven with those thoughts, Deano, you’re truly in the right place.”

Before the hunter can speak again, the space around him blurs, the air thick with what feels almost like static electricity as his surroundings change and he’s thrown into his fantasy world.

Dean’s flicking through the channels on the shitty motel TV when Sam comes out of the bathroom after his shower. The older Winchester has to force himself not to turn and look, because just lately Sammy has taken to getting changed in the main room rather than the bathroom, claiming he doesn’t like putting clothes onto clammy skin in the humid air. The kid has a point, but right now that’s not what concerns him.

A year ago his brother didn’t show any more skin than necessary, always demanding privacy and locking himself in the bathroom to dress and undress, but since he hit a growth spurt a few months ago things have changed. He’s doing more workouts outside of their usual sparring sessions and whatever sport he’s involved in at school, he’s doing more sit ups in their motel rooms and generally seems a lot more confident in his body. Dean would be proud of him - he’s a Winchester after all and they’re a good looking family - but this is different. Sam’s back and arm muscles are more defined, his shoulders broader and he has abs that most other kids would kill for. He’s long, lean and gorgeous, and that’s the problem. Dean can’t keep his eyes off his newly fifteen year old brother, and not in the ‘I’m proud of you, kid’ way he should be, it’s more the ‘I want to fuck your brains out, kid’, way, and it makes the older teen feel sick with shame.

It’s not long before Dean’s eyes inevitably wander over to his brother and he’s just in time to see Sam stepping into a pair of boxers. Thankfully he manages to keep his eyes on Sam’s abs instead of letting them stray further down, but even that, the sight of all that beautiful skin makes his mouth water. He quickly skims his eyes over his brother’s chest, gaze automatically being drawn lower with the movement of Sam pulling on a pair of sweats, the waistband snug under his junk, framed for just a few seconds, the outline of Sam’s soft yet ample cock clearly visible though the light grey cotton.

“See something you like?” the teen asks in a mocking tone, making Dean choke on his own spit.

“What? No, God, shut up, Sammy,” he shoots back, plastering the most disgusted look he can onto his face, hoping it hides his guilt.

“Dude, it was a joke,” Sam laughs, “no need to freak out.”

The older teen’s eyes flick between Sam’s face, chest and abs and he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, “I’m not freaking out, why would I freak out?” he’s aware he sounds defensive so he clears his throat and keeps his tone as casual as possible, “Quit being such a bitch, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam, and what’s the matter with you, jerk?” his brother asks, confusion clear in his voice.

Dean looks at his brother, then - at his face, finally - his mind racing with something to say, “Fuck you!” is the best he can come up with. He grabs his own change of clothes and heads for a shower, careful to ignore the ache in his cock at the smell of Sam’s shampoo and the thought of him standing in the same spot, wet and naked only a few minutes ago. He groans, washing himself quickly once he climbs under the spray, thinking about the putrid intestines of the dead racoon they almost hit with the car earlier, which soon makes the problem go away.

In actuality Dean got dressed, avoiding looking at his brother’s still half naked form sprawled out on the bed, told Sam not to wait up and banged the first willing chick at the bar closest to the motel; but here’s where it changes into Dean’s fantasy version. Instead of just accepting that his brother was going out, Sam argued, saying he wanted them to spend some time together, watch a movie, maybe steal a couple of dad’s beers, and of course Dean gave in the minute his baby brother turned on the puppy eyes.

Soon they were side by side on Sam’s bed, Dean in boxers and t-shirt and Sam still shirtless. One minute they’re drinking beer, laughing at some cheesy Abbott and Costello movie they’ve seen countless times, and the next, because this is a fantasy after all, Sam is running one of his long fingers slowly up Dean’s bare thigh. The older teen’s breath catches in his throat as the digit stops just shy of the hem of his boxers where they’re rucked up half into the crease of his leg. He swallows audibly before turning slowly to look at his brother.

Sam’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes glassy, pupils wide and he’s breathing fast and shallow, “Dean?” he says, and there are so many things that could mean but as his baby brother’s eye flick from Dean’s mouth to his eyes, it’s pretty clear what he’s asking. The older teen’s skin tingles where Sam traces back down towards his knee then lightly digs his nails into the skin as he moves back up, his fingertips pulling Dean’s underwear up a fraction more.

“Sammy,” Dean croaks, “we can’t.”

“Can’t we?” the younger boy replies with a raised eyebrow.

Dean covers Sam’s hand with his own but doesn’t push it away, can’t bring himself to, “We’re brothers,” he says, stating the obvious, “people…”

“Fuck people,” Sam replies, cutting his brother off, “don’t you want to? Don’t you want me?”

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean huffs, lifting his hand to cup his brother’s jaw, inadvertently giving the kid free reign with his own, “you gotta know I do, baby boy, wanted you for so long.” He knows he’s sounds like a giant pervert, but it’s his fantasy, he can say whatever the fuck he wants.

Sam flashes him a dimpled smile then licks his lips and closes the distance between them. The kiss is soft but not hesitant, it’s confident in a way Dean hadn’t expected. Sam’s lips are soft, smooth and sweet, and when he slides his hand up those last few inches and rubs over Dean’s dick he takes advantage of his brother’s gasp and sweeps his tongue into the older teen’s mouth. They kiss until they have to gulp down air, by which point they’re both hard, Dean can feel not so little Sammy pressing into his hip.

In the blink of an eye Sam is naked on his back, too long but perfect hair fanned out over the pillow and looking up at his brother like he’s the most delicious thing he’s ever seen. Dean knows that feeling well. When he leans down to take that sinful, candy pink mouth in another kiss he realises that he’s naked, too, his hot skin meeting Sam’s and firing up his blood even more. They both moan into the kiss when the older teen brushes his fingers over his brother’s ribs and nipples, “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers when he pulls back, smiling to himself when Sam’s cheeks pink underneath the already flushed skin.

Dean kisses his way down his brother’s neck and chest, pausing to lick, suck and bite his nipples just to feel the kid squirm, moan and leak fat drops of pre-come onto his taut stomach. He dips his tongue into Sam’s belly button, grazes his teeth over the edges, does the same to both hips before breathing in the musky, salty sweet scent of Sam’s cock. When he licks at it, Sam gasps and Dean moans at finally getting to taste his brother, quickly wrapping his lips around the head to lick and suck the kid into a frenzy. He works two fingers deep inside his brother’s tight ass after opening him up with his tongue, pumping steadily in and out as his other hand strips Sam’s cock until he comes like a fountain all over himself, the bed and Dean’s hand. It’s too much for Dean to take, grabbing Sam’s hand and wrapping around his cock, pumping a few times before he shoots over his brother, their come mingling over Sam’s skin.

The air shimmers slightly and Dean finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed with a wet warmth around his cock. His head is swimming and when he finally manages to open his eyes it’s to see Sam on his knees, a blissed out look on his face as Dean’s cock slides in and out of his swollen mouth at a steady pace, making the older teen moan at how good it looks and feels. A few thrusts of his hips and he’s crying out and tugging on Sam’s silky hair as he does, vaguely registering the feeling of Sam’s own come hitting Dean’s shin even as he’s coming hard down his little brother’s throat.

A blink later has the older Winchester kneeling between his brother’s spread legs, the kid’s pink, wet mouth hanging open in pleasure as Dean’s cock slowly pushes into his slick hole. Dean can’t decide which is hotter, Sam’s face or the way his cock is opening and stretching that tiny opening and being swallowed up by it. It’s like he’s lost the ability to speak, but that’s fine because it means he can listen to Sam’s moans, the steady stream of his own name and the begging that falls from his baby brother’s lips as Dean fucks him slow and steady, tightly lacing their fingers until Sam comes, his ass spasming around his brother’s cock until Dean empties his slick load into it.

Another blur and it’s Dean that’s flat on his back. Sam’s straddling him, working his hips to rock slowly back and forth to ride Dean’s cock buried deep inside him. If Sam’s desperate and filthy kisses weren’t already stealing Dean’s breath, the sight of his baby brother’s beautiful teenage body writhing above him, flushed skin beaded with sweat, eyes glazed with lust and the most exquisite sounds coming from his pretty pink mouth, would. As soon as Sam pulls back from a wet, messy kiss that’s more tongue than lips, large hands are on his slim hips, guiding him up and down. Always the quick learner the kid starts to bounce on Dean’s cock, bliss for both of them, the smack of sweaty skin as loud as their moans and grunts as they work up to what’s got to be their fifth or six orgasms of the night, it’s been so much pleasure Dean can’t tell.

Sam collapses onto his brother’s chest, utterly exhausted. He barely reacts when Dean rolls them and his cock slips out of the younger boy’s come soaked hole, or when the older teen sweeps his fingers through the mess and pushes it back inside where it belongs. He needn’t bother, he’s already filled Sam up several times over, it’s so deep inside he’s going to be dripping for days at this rate. A shiver of delight runs down Dean’s spine at thought, knowing he’s marked Sam as his in the only way he hadn’t been able to up until now.

He presses soft kisses to Sam’s forehead, nosing at his sweat soaked hairline just to pull in the scent of him, warm and close, exactly where he should be. Dean needs to rest, he’s exhausted, too, so he lies down, pulling his brother’s slim frame across his chest and holding him tight as he drifts off to sleep with memories of all the things they’ve done to each other.

Dean feels his stomach lurch and there’s a sharp pressure like someone’s reaching behind his belly button and hauling him into another world. Around him now is the stench of sulphur, death, blood, stale sweat and fear. His eyes are still closed and he doesn’t need to open them to know Alistair is only inches away from him. He can hear his ragged breath, the soft moan falling from his lips telling him the bastard’s hard, it always happens when he’s really put Dean through it, when he’s dripping in blood and sweat, begging for the torture to stop, the sick fuck... though right now Dean doubts he has any right to think that of anyone else considering what he’s just been doing.

“That was quite a show you two put on, Deano, I’m impressed,” the demon practically purrs. A cold, sharp blade traces down the hunter’s face making him flinch, but it doesn’t sink into his flesh like he expected. Instead it traces his lips, nose and under his eyes, then Dean really tenses, “Look at me,” Alistair says, cupping his chin in spindly fingers. Not feeling like there’s a choice, green eyes meet inky black, “I like you, Dean, we both know that, so I’m going to show you a kindness.”

“Fuck you, you don’t know the meaning of the word!” Dean spits out before he can stop the words. Shit!

A low chuckle fills his ears and to his surprise the demon’s eyes are back to their normal blue and has a genuine smile on his face, “Oh, but I do, darling, and to prove it I’m going to give you two days off the rack.”

Dean’s been back in the cycle of being broken and made whole again for a week, doing his best to bring all the details of his time with fantasy Sam clearly into his mind the whole time as his flesh is burned, cut and torn. He’s been desperately clinging onto the happiness he felt at finally getting to be with his brother in the way he’s wanted to for years, and he manages it for the most part...right up until fresh self loathing runs through him one time too many. It doesn’t matter that none of it actually happened, the guilt itself is very, very real.

The next time Alistair makes his offer to take him off the rack if he puts souls on he accepts without hesitation, and when he makes his first cut into unmarked skin there are tears rolling down his face, “I’m sorry, Sammy,” he croaks, “I’m so sorry.”

.

Supernatural: Pain is a Part of the Complete Human Experience (Sam & Jack, gen)

2020-10-06T20:46:04Z

Title: Pain is a Part of the Complete Human Experience
Pairing: Supernatural, Sam and Jack, gen (no pairing)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my obsession with Jack Kline
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Hurt!Jack
Summary: Written for this prompt in the spnkink_meme: "Jack gets his first ever splinter in his foot of all places. Sam helps him, and works at distracting Jack and then comforting him after (maybe with ice cream and a movie because it was a very big splinter)."

A/N: Set early S13, somewhere between Patience and The Big Empty, when Jack is still confined to the bunker. Title a direct quote from our precious boy in The Rising Son.

Sam’s in the bunker’s rarely visited workshop when he hears Jack calling his name from somewhere in the distance. Around him are all kinds of woodworking tools the hunter hasn't seen since he was at school - a couple of different sized vices, various saws, drills and drill bits are dotted about the place. He’d originally come in here to tidy away anything that Jack might hurt himself on given how the kid’s taken to wandering around during the night when he can’t sleep, and is too curious for his own good. Sam doesn’t sleep much as it is but he’s human so does need a few hours and he can’t be watching Jack all the time. In a moment of nostalgia Sam has found himself using the tools to shape a small block of wood he’d found, planing and sanding it down into a mini replica of the Impala. He’s just pulled out his knife and set about the finer carving of the windows and doors into the wood when Jack’s voice gets louder.

The hunter looks up as the kid comes into the room, book in hand, excitedly reading aloud from whatever text has got his attention. Sam notices almost immediately that Jack has bare feet, he’s still new to the world and not yet fully used to the concept of clothes. Although Sam and Dean had taken him shopping and allowed him to pick out a basic selection of clothes and shoes, the young Nephilim still hasn't quite got the hang of the intricacies of dressing himself in terms of what he should wear, and when. In the daytime the Winchesters themselves are rarely anything other than fully dressed - shoes included - a habit formed from a lifetime of having to be ready for anything at the drop of a hat. Jack hasn't left the bunker in the weeks since they brought him home and even with the pre-existing knowledge he has of the social norms of wearing clothing around other people, sometimes he forgets little things like shoes and socks.

Not taking any notice of where he’s walking, Jack makes a beeline for where Sam’s standing, continuing to read from his book and completely unaware that he's about to step into a pile of wood shavings and sawdust.

“Jack, don’t…” Sam calls out, trying to alert the boy to the potential danger but he knows it's too late from the look of horror that spreads over the kid's face as if in slow motion. Jack lets out a cry which sounds like a mixture of shock of pain. Sam quickly puts down the knife and carving, rushing over to the boy and immediately reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“Sam, what's happening?” the young Nephilim asks with alarm in his voice, his blue eyes wide and filled with worry. The book he was holding makes a loud slam as it hits the floor as Jack takes a couple of steps back, balancing on one foot and lifting his injured one, wobbling on the spot as he tries to look at the source of his pain.

“It's OK, buddy,” Sam says in a calming voice, and grips Jack’s shoulder a little tighter to help him balance, “it's probably just a splinter. They can be painful but they’re not serious. Here,” he says, patting the workbench next to them, “hop up here and I'll take a look.”

Jack looks at him with a puzzled expression, “I don’t think I can... hop, I mean. Is that important?” he asks, looking slightly dejected.

Sam can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes before he manages to set his face back into a serious expression, making a mental note not to be so literal with the kid, “It’s just an expression, Jack, don’t worry about it. What I meant was sit up here,” he says, nodding his head towards the bench.

With another frown the boy pushes himself up, his legs swinging slightly in front of him until he brings his injured foot to rest on the opposite knee. Sam can already see a large red mark on the ball of his foot along with wood shavings on his heel, which Jack is frantically brushing off as if they’re burning him.

The hunter rests his hand on Jack’s shin, “I’m gonna take a look, alright?” he says softly. He waits for the boy to nod before he gently grips Jack’s foot and turns it towards the better light. On closer inspection he can see two punctures in the skin, one small and the other quite a lot bigger. He rubs his thumb over the smaller one, feeling a slight bump under the skin, then over the larger one and feels a sharp tug on his own skin. Jack hisses and jerks his foot away, “You’ve got a couple of splinters in there, they’re not too deep, we can get them out easily enough.”

“How?” he asks, twisting so he can study his injury again.

“Come on, let’s go inside and get the first aid kit. Do you need some help?” Jack shakes his head as he lowers himself back down, glaring at the wood covered floor. He half hops towards the door, making Sam smile until the kid wobbles, “Here,” the older man says, hooking an arm around Jack’s waist to steady him, and they slowly make their way to the kitchen.

As soon as he’s seated Jack brings his foot back up again, running the pad of his finger over the sore spots and grimacing. He looks thoughtfully at the skin before looking up at Sam with a troubled look, “Why aren’t I healing?”

Sam frowns, the kid took an angel blade to the chest and came out of it unscathed so it’s an excellent question, “I’m not sure, buddy,” he replies, honestly, washing his hands while he waits for the kettle to boil, “maybe your body knows the difference between life threatening and minor injuries.”

Jack blinks up at him, “That’s… good, right?” he says, hesitantly.

“Sure is, it’s very good,” Sam assures as he fills a bowl with hot water and carries it to the table along with the first aid kit. He crouches down in front of Jack and pats his own thigh, “rest it on here,” he says, lifting Jack’s foot from underneath the heel, “alright,” he says, “stay still for me, OK?” Jack nods, nervously biting on his bottom lip. Sam gives the boy a reassuring smile then places his thumbs either side of the smaller splinter and applies enough pressure for it to pop out of the skin, “there we go,” he says, laying the tiny piece of wood on the palm of his hand and lifting it towards Jack.

“That’s it?” he asks with a frown, tipping his head from one side to the other to look at it, “It’s tiny.”

“That’s it,” Sam laughs and drops it into a napkin, “now for the bigger one. This is gonna be a bit tougher, just hold still again for me, alright?” Jack nods again, the nervous look gone now he knows what to expect. This time when Sam presses on the skin the boy cries out, jerks his foot back and the hunter finds himself on his ass on the cold floor a few feet away from where he was only seconds ago. When he looks up the Nephilim’s eyes are fading from gold back to blue.

“I’m sorry,” Jack says, sheepishly, “it hurt.”

Sam thinks back to how Jack responded in the tattoo studio, reflexively throwing the artist across the room and slamming him into the wall. He winces slightly at the thought and how this could have been much worse for him, “It’s alright, buddy, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

Jack nods again and offers a small smile of acknowledgement.

“We’re gonna need to get the tweezers out for this one, I think,” Sam says as he pushes himself up off the floor and makes his way back to the table.

“Tweezers?” Jack asks, curiously.

Sam pulls them out from the kit and holds them up, flexing them so they open and close, “These are tweezers, I’ll grab the splinter,” he says, closing them so Jack can see, “pull it out,” he retracts his hand, “and then we’re done.”

“O-OK,” the boy replies, the nervous look back on his face again, “will it hurt?”

Sam sighs, “I can’t say it won’t, Jack, but I’ll be as gentle and quick as I can, I promise,” he says, softly, as he dips a cotton ball in the bowl of water squeezes out some of the excess, “the hot water will open up the skin and make it easier to get out,” he says.

Jack swallows and nods, “Alright,” he says in a faux cheery tone, “let’s do this.”

Sam holds the cotton ball against the angry looking skin around the splinter until he's satisfied the wound is opened up enough for him to work on with the least amount of discomfort. Once again he puts Jack’s foot on his thigh and puts his thumbs either side of the puncture, and feels the kid tense in preparation. Sam applies some pressure until the end of the splinter is outside the skin enough for him to get a proper hold of, “OK,” he says, shifting the tweezers in his hand and positioning the grips either side of it, “on the count of three, ready?” Jack looks puzzled but when Sam nods encouragingly he starts to count out loud. Sam gently tugs out the offending piece of wood as the boy gets to two.

“Ow, you said three!” Jack cries, a look of shock on his face.

“Sorry,” Sam says with a shrug, studying the jagged wood, then holds the tweezers towards Jack, “here, take a look.”

Jack reaches his long fingers out and wraps them around Sam’s wrist, leans forward and frowns a little before he blinks down at the older man, “That one hurt,” he looks down at the table where the other splinter sits on the napkin, then back at the one in Sam’s hand.

“I’m not surprised,” the older man says, laying the bigger one down and noting it’s at least three times the size of the first. He picks up a fresh cotton ball and gently wipes away the small drops of blood coming from the wound on the young skin before dabbing it with disinfectant, “sorry,” he says when Jack winces at the sting. He pats the skin dry and applies a dressing over it, “there you go, all done. That wasn’t so bad after all, was it?”

Jack offers a weak smile, “No,” he says, shaking his head, “sorry I...,” he waves his hand in the direction of the floor where Sam had landed.

The hunter sighs and squeezes the boy’s ankle, “Listen, Jack, it wasn’t your fault. None of us know how your powers work, yet, but you gotta give yourself a break. No lasting harm done, there might be a bruise on my ass but it’ll fade...and you have to be more careful walking around with nothing on your feet, OK?”

Jack looks up at him and blinks, a small but genuine smile slowly spreading across his face, “I will,” he says, earnestly.

“Good,” Sam smiles, “wait here a minute, I’ll get you some shoes and socks.”

Sam fetches a pair of thick, comfortable, fluffy socks that he knows Dean hides away in a drawer and thinks his brother doesn’t know about, and Jack’s sneakers. He watches the boy put them on carefully, wincing a little when he puts weight on his sore foot.

“All good?” he asks when Jack looks up at him.

“All good. Thank you, Sam...for everything.” he says, his eyes a little watery.

“You’re welcome,” the older man replies, trying not to let Jack’s unshed tears affect him but the kid has already carved out a place in Sam’s heart, “hey, how about we get some ice cream?”

A beaming smile transforms Jack’s face, “I’d like that,” he says, moments before his eyes go wide and the smile turns to a look of panic, “Uh, Sam...Dean doesn't need to know about this, does he?”

Sam shakes his head and sits down on the bench next to Jack, “No, he doesn't need to know a thing,” Sam replies, patting Jack on the thigh, “but it’s really nothing to worry about. I know Dean’s being an ass at the moment but he’ll come around, you’ll see.” The Nephilim looks at him, clearly unconvinced, so Sam tries a different tactic, “Besides, you should see him with a paper cut!” he says and rolls his eyes.

“What happens?” Jack asks, a mix of concern and curiosity in his young voice.

“Put it this way...there’s less drama when he’s been shot!” Sam winks, smiling when the kid chuckles. “So how about that ice cream?”

“And a movie?” Jack asks, his blue eyes wide and hopeful like a giant puppy.

“Fine,” Sam replies with a fond smile, “ice cream and a movie!”

.

Supernatural: Hush Little Baby (Weechesters, gen)

2020-08-31T12:39:57Z

Title: Hush Little Baby
Pairing: Supernatural, Sam and Dean, gen (no pairing)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my Weechester feels
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Do I warn for cuteness?
Summary: John can't get a crying baby Sam to settle, luckily Dean knows just what to do. John's PoV.

John Winchester looks down at the baby he’s desperately trying to hold still in his arms, taking a few breaths to try and calm himself as he walks faster around the living room of their shitty rent by the month apartment. Sammy has been crying non stop for almost an hour, but instead of wearing himself out like he has in the past he’s only becoming more and more distressed. His face is bright red and sweaty, chubby cheeks stained with barely dried tears before a fresh wave pours over them. The boy must be well on the way to screaming himself hoarse by now, but still he keeps going, “Come on, kiddo,” John pleads, hearing the tension in his own voice, “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Is Sammy sick?” comes a tired voice from behind him.

John turns around to see a sleep rumpled Dean, rubbing at one eye and holding out one of his brother’s favourite stuffed toys with his other hand, “He’s fine, Dean, he’s just a little grumpy. Go back to bed, buddy.”

Dean looks at him and then at Sam who’s started wriggling even more, kicking his legs out and tensing his whole body. His cries get even louder and John’s eldest winces, almost running over to where his father stands, the bear dropped to the floor in his haste to get to them. He goes up on his tiptoes and takes hold of Sam’s hand, the baby’s fingers reflexively wrapping round his brother’s, “Sammy, please don’t cry,” he says, distress clear on his young face. With his other hand he makes a ‘come here’ gesture and John bends so that Dean can reach. The older boy immediately lays the back of his hand on Sam’s forehead, then runs it over his bare chest, arms and legs, “He’s too hot, daddy. Is he hungry, did you give him his bottle?”

John’s a little taken aback, “Of course I did, and he’s got a fresh diaper, he’s just cranky.”

“Did you wind him properly?” Dean frowns, “His tummy gets full of gas if he drinks too quickly.”

“I know that,” John snaps, feeling the bundle in his arms tensing even, the cries that had softened slightly getting louder again, “I said go back to bed, Dean, do as you’re told.” He resumes his pacing, trying to rock his son but the smallest Winchester is still moving too much, his screams hurting John’s eardrums.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Dean says, matter of factly, “he doesn’t like being on his back like that.”

Sleep deprivation starts getting the better of him, then, “That’s enough, Dean, I know how to look after my own damn child!”

The boy glares at him, his little fists curling at his sides for a minute before he takes a breath, “I know, daddy, but just let me try,” he says, holding out his arms, “please?”

John sighs in frustration and if he’s honest, a little embarrassment, “Fine,” he says, handing Sam over, “be careful, he’s getting big.”

“I can do it.” Dean replies, sounding irritated. He lifts Sam up by his armpits, pulling him upright and holding him to his skinny chest. He tucks one hand under the baby’s butt, the other covering Sam’s hand which is already clenched into a fist in Dean’s pyjama top, “Heya Sammy,” he says softly into his brother’s hair where he’s laid his head on the older boy’s shoulder, “what’s the matter, huh?” Dean starts to pace around the room, gently rocking the small body, “It’s alright, Sammy, don’t be sad. I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

John is astounded when his youngest son’s screams quieten to regular, exhausted crying, his body almost still, slumped against his brother’s chest. He watches as Dean strokes Sam’s back, shushing him and humming a lullaby until the cries finally die down to sobbing breaths. Dean sits down on the edge of the sofa, balancing Sam on one of his own skinny legs, cradled in his arm. Expertly he reaches out for the pack of baby wipes, opening the box one handed and fishing out one of the cloths. He leans back and gently cleans Sam’s face of tears and snot, discarding the wipe on the coffee table before pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I got you, little brother,” he says, shuffling them so he’s propped up by the back of the sofa, Sam cradled against his chest again. He uses his free hand to wrap the blanket around his young charge and tucks it securely around him, “go to sleep, Sammy,” he coos, brushing soft brown hair off the sticky forehead before placing another kiss there, “I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise.”

Soon both boys fall asleep but John can’t bring himself to move them. Sam’s breath occasionally hitches and each time it does Dean's small hands hold him tighter, reassuring his baby brother that he’s keeping his word and not going anywhere. John covers them both with a blanket then sits watching them as he drinks a glass of whiskey, hoping with a heavy heart that Mary isn’t looking down on them. He can’t bear the thought of how disappointed she might be that he’s failing both her and their children, because at this moment their five year old is a better father than him.

.

Supernatural: Virgin Territory (Let Me Be Your Guide) - J2, NC-17, 7/?

2020-08-27T15:16:02Z

"Whose stupid idea was this again?" Jared gripes a week later as he's unloading the car with what seems like never ending bags of groceries. He’s regretting stepping in at the last minute to host the neighbourhood barbeque when Don, whose turn it actually is, came down with a stomach bug.

Jensen sniggers next to him, lifting out two bags, "You want me to answer that?"

"Fuck you," he replies, glaring at the teen, "I didn't hear you saying 'Hey, maybe that's not the best idea at short notice, Jay'... you might have warned me how many people come this thing. Do you have any idea how long I'm gonna be preparing this stuff? You realise you're helping every step of the way, right?"

“Wait, what? ‘Jay’…who calls you that?”

Jared’s step falters as he turns to look at the teen, realising then Jensen wouldn’t be aware of it, “Oh, right, yeah…uh, it’s a nickname, had it for years. Close friends and family, mostly.”

“Which is why I’ve never heard it, then,” Jensen replies, shrugging, “sounds weird.”

Jared smiles, “It’ll take some getting used to, I guess. You can call me that if you like, all my favourite people do.”

Jensen puts the bags down on the island in the middle of the kitchen, “Maybe, I’ll try it out another time,” he turns to head back towards the car then stops, and Jared knows he’s just realised what was said to him. The teen looks up at him, “I’m one of your favourite people?”

Jared rolls his eyes, fondly, “Not so quick on the uptake are you, kiddo?”

“Shut up!” Jensen replies, blushing. His hands twitch like he wants to touch the older man but they’re too exposed with the front door wide open, so he smiles and heads back out.

Jared follows him out, sneaking a peek at his ass on the way, damn he wants to get hands and mouth on him again, preferably fingers, too, because as soon as they start down that path he can finally squeeze his fat cock in there. He must have been lost in thought more than he realises because he startles when Alan is next to Jensen, lifting the final bags out.

“Hey, you were a million miles away, there!” Alan chuckles, “I was just saying Donna’s with Mac, she’s complaining of a stomach ache. It could be this bug, more likely all the pizza she ate last night if you ask me. Give me what you want us to prepare and we’ll get started on it right away, unless you’d rather me stay here and help? I’ve not actually been in contact with anyone with the bug...that I’m aware of, anyway.” he shrugs.

Jared takes a minute to catch up, his eye flicking over to Jensen where he’s standing next to his dad, obviously trying to keep a look of disappointment off his face at Alan offering to hang around, “Well, I could use the help,” he replies, honestly, “has anyone got sick, I mean t
do we need to prepare all of this food?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Alan replies, “I could go and ask around, it might not be a bad idea. We don’t want your first time to be a disaster, right?”

Jared manages to nod and smile in what he hopes is an appreciative way, while trying not to laugh at the shocked look on Jensen’s face. His cheeks blood with red which screams loud and clear that both of their minds went to the same place that has nothing to do with grilled meat and side dishes, “Thanks, Alan, I’d appreciate that, I’ve not spoken to some of the neighbours at all, yet,” he glances at the teen, “and you’re right, first times should be memorable in a good way.”

“No problem,” Alan replies, “I’ll go and do a head count then you know what you’re looking at. Jensen will help out as well, won’t you, buddy?”

“Sure,” the teen frowns, “wasn’t I already helping?”

“Course you we’re,” Jared assures him with a soft smile, “but I think you just got roped into helping more. Say goodbye to your Saturday, kiddo!”

Jensen heaves a put upon sigh, “How long does it take to make salads and side dishes?” he says with a slight smirk.

“You’ve never been to a Padalecki barbeque, buddy, we make everything from scratch and that includes, breads, salad dressings, and all the desserts. Tomorrow we bake the bread and cook the meat, today it’s all about thorough preparation!” Jared replies, feeling rather smug at the looks of surprise on both Ackles’ faces.

Hours of preparing enough food to feed an army, bread dough rising nicely and his own fridge and sideboards overflowing, Jared hands over the last few items to Alan to put in their fridge as well, “I may have gone a little overboard, huh?” he says to the older man.

“Maybe just a little,” Alan replies with a soft smile, “you’re gonna make a hell of an impression with all of this, the rest of us are gonna have to step up our games from now on, son!”

“Sorry,” he replies with a shrug.

“Not you’re not,” a teasing voice comes from behind them, making both men smile. Jensen comes into Jared’s peripheral vision and he automatically reaches out to pat the teen on the shoulder, leaving his hand a couple of extra seconds to feel the heat from his skin.

“Don’t be cheeky, Jensen,” Alan replies even though he’s smiling.

“It’s alright, he’s got a point, to be fair,” he turns to look at the kid, hooking his elbow around the back of the neck and pulling him into his side, “thanks for the help, kiddo,” he says, quickly releasing Jensen despite wanting to keep him close, “you, too, Alan.”

“No problem. If that’s everything I’m gonna head to bed, who knew this was such tiring work?” he laughs, “See you tomorrow,” he says with a clap to Jared’s shoulder.

“Night,” he replies, waving to both Ackles’ before leaving through the back door. Until Alan had shown him the small panel in the fence that joins their houses he never would have known that it’s actually a gate allowing access between their gardens. Apparently years ago the two connecting houses belonged to an extended family who came and went between themselves but the gate hasn’t been used in years. He hadn’t missed the way Jensen’s eyes lit up at this development as he’d have been too young to have noticed it when the families lived there. It has a bolt on each side so unless both are unlocked there’s no access, but he and his boy now know they have an opportunity and as long as they’re careful Jensen doesn't need to come up with a reason for visiting Jared outside their set gyms days of Wednesday and Saturday.

An hour or so later, tired and slightly buzzed from the beers he’s drank on top of hardly any food other than what he’d picked at during the prep they’d been doing, Jared’s currently melting into the sofa. He hears the faint noise of his patio door opening and closing and smiles to himself, he’d left it unlocked for a reason. He lifts his arm up and rests it on the back of the sofa while he waits for Jensen to come in, immediately wrapping it around the boy when he sits down, “Took you long enough,” he chuckles.

Jensen swats him on the chest, “Shut up, I had to make sure they were all asleep.”

“Everything OK? How’s Mac doing?”

“She’s stopped puking I think,” the teen replies, reaching towards one of the remaining beers in the six pack and tips his head in question, waiting for Jared’s nod before fishing it out and twisting the lid off, “mom’s asleep in bed with her, dad’s snoring like a foghorn.”

“Here’s hoping she’ll be better tomorrow,” he says, lifting his bottle to clink against Jensen’s. He watches the teen swallow down three thirsty gulps, “hey, slow down, kiddo, you gotta be even quieter going back home, we don’t want you tripping over your own feet!”

Jensen rolls his eyes, “It’s light beer, I can handle one bottle, dude, chill out!” he smirks at the older man’s amused eyebrow raise, “This one’s much better than that IPA stuff you had before.”

“I’m glad your underage drinking has progressed to you having preferences,” Jared deadpans, shaking his head and smiling. He reaches up to stroke the teen’s hair and leans in for a leisurely kiss, smiling at Jensen’s contented sigh when they pull apart, beautiful green eyes crinkling at the corner as he smiles. Jared runs his thumb over the teen’s cheekbone, then his bottom lip, knowing he’s obsessed with doing that now. He feels a warmth in his belly that’s getting more frequent around the kid but right now he’s too tired to analyse it.

“Wish I could stay over,” Jensen sighs, kicking off his shoes and curling his legs up onto the sofa, “I wanna know what it’s like to wake up in your arms, I didn’t get to do that last time.”

Jared’s stomach does a little lurch, that uncomfortable feeling back from when he woke that morning Jensen had stayed over “Another time,” he says, non committedly, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as shaky as it feels.

The teen just smiles, drinks some more of his beer and settles his head on Jared’s chest and watches whatever crappy film is on. He has no idea what it is, some sappy love story by the looks of it but Jared’s been snoozing and it was just background noise. Jensen’s quiet for so long that the older man thinks he’s gone to sleep until he speaks.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asks in a quiet voice.

Jared tries not to tense too much while his brain screams fuck! “Uh, where did that come from?” he asks as casually as possible, really regretting not turning the TV off.

Jensen half sits up, takes a mouthful of beer and shrugs at him, “Just curious. I mean, I know it’s not gonna be like this stupid stuff,” he waves a hand at the TV, “but it must be nice, having that with someone...right?”

Jared’s mind’s racing, if he says yes the kid’s gonna ask questions and no doubt he’ll ask just as many if he says no. His heart soon joins in with the racing of his mind, blood thundering around his body, his mouth dry. He takes a swig of beer to wet it and swallows hard, he’s still not said anything, and shit, Jensen’s pushing up to look him in the eye, a small crease across his forehead, “Honestly, I don’t know,” Jared blurts, “never really thought about it.”

Jensen’s frown deepens, “You don’t know?” his voice is even but the confusion is clear.

Jared’s palms are sweating now, he really doesn’t need this shit, “Why does it matter? People can be happy with their lives without it including codependency for the sake of social norms,” he tries to keep his tone light, waving a hand at the TV, “don’t let that shit fool ya, life isn’t about fireworks and slow motion running.”

“Wow, cynical much?” the teen replies with a raised eyebrow, “It was just a question, I didn’t think it was that much of a big deal,” he shrugs, but the older man can see the hurt on Jensen’s face.

“Hey,” Jared says, sliding his hand around the back of Jensen’s neck, brushing the skin with his thumb, “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ve cared about people, sure, but I don’t know if that’s the same thing,” he sighs, the beer and tiredness conspiring against him and letting out more of the truth than he’d normally allow himself, “I guess there was one who I thought… maybe… probably. Shit man, I don’t know, OK?” he says, something heavy settling in his chest.

“Was it one of …” Jensen hesitates, biting his lip, clearly deciding whether to finish vocalising the thought, “one of the people you’ve taught?”

The older man’s stomach clenches for two reasons right then, firstly because he knows without doubt Jensen’s asking about his virgins, and secondly because he knows the kid well enough to not let it drop, he’ll want to know more. He’s looking at Jared with wide, almost pleading eyes and it’s like he’s some kind of puppet master and the older man is his marionette because he finds himself speaking before thinking about it, “Yeah, he was. Fucked me up pretty bad when it ended, I guess. It certainly put me off relationships for a long time.” By ‘relationships’ he means his teen virgins, but he’s not going to say that out loud.

“Oh,” Jensen says, softly. His face is conflicted, but he pushes on, “I’m sorry you got hurt like that. Were you together long? Is that why you moved here?”

“Almost a year,” Jared says around the lump that’s formed in his throat thinking about his former lover, “No, that’s not why I moved...it was a long time ago.”

“How long is ‘a long time’?” he asks. Jared stiffens, his face tightening and the teen obviously sees it. He puts a hand on the older man’s thigh and rubs it, soothingly, “I mean I wanna be prepared, just in case you break my heart or something, ya know?” he says in what’s clearly meant to be a joking tone and offers half a smile, but Jared can see he means it.

He closes his eyes when the weight of Jensen’s stare gets too much, but he keeps rubbing the boy’s neck, as much to soothe himself as much as the boy, he thinks, “Five years,” he sighs, “it was five years ago, it’s ancient history, now.”

Jensen’s other hand settles on his chest and the kid must be able to feel how hard Jared’s heart is beating, “I’m sorry, Jay, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s none of my business.”

Jared takes a deep breath, not missing the way Jensen used his nickname and that just makes his stomach clench more. He opens his eyes, sliding his hand from Jensen’s neck to cup his cheek, sweeping the thumb over his bottom lip and for a moment his mind supplies the image of another mouth, candy pink and full, wider than Jensen’s but still beautiful. He takes in a shaky breath, pushing down the sadness he’s feeling, because this so isn’t a conversation they should be having, “Like I said, a long time ago, I’ve moved on,” he leans towards Jensen and presses a soft kiss to his forehead, “and for the record, I have no intention of breaking your heart.” It’s true, he never has that intention but he knows from experience it happens, but he can’t control that.

Jensen smiles brightly at that, “Good to hear,” he says, turning his head to kiss Jared’s palm, “I’m gonna get going, you look as tired as I feel.”

“Oh charming,” Jared says, “you trying to say I look like shit?”

Jensen laughs and bats the older man’s hand away, “Shut up, go to bed, busy day tomorrow.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jared replies, “yeah, come on, we don’t want your parents finding out you’re not there.”

He locks up after the teen leaves, turns the lights off and gets ready for bed. He falls asleep quickly but his dreams are filled with an uneasy feeling, pairs of blue and green eyes and soft mouths, holding slim frames in his arms, cocooning them with his own body. When he wakes in the morning it’s to find himself hugging one of his pillows, confused for a minute before he blinks the tiredness from his eyes and remembers his dream. For maybe a few seconds he allows himself to indulge in the feeling of how it had actually felt good not to wake alone before reality kicks back in and he pushes the pillow away. That’s not him and he’s not gonna become that person, now.

The barbeque is in full swing, Jared being the dutiful host and making sure everyone has enough to eat and drink, chatting and getting to know the neighbours a little more. Jensen and Alan are bigging up all the homemade food to anyone who will listen, assuring people that Donna and Mac will be along later if the girl is up to it. Smiling to himself he heads to the front door when the bell rings, winking at Jensen as he walks past the teen and one of the kids he doesn’t know roughhousing in the living room.

There’s a woman he vaguely recognises standing there, “Hi, it’s Kim from number twenty seven,” she says as her and someone else step through the door, Jared not paying them any attention because he hears a loud ‘shit’ from the living room, wincing and waiting to hear if there’s a crash, which thankfully there isn’t, “we were supposed to be hosting but my husband Don has this stomach bug,” she says, apologetically.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he says, vaguely remembering them from when Donna and Alan hosted, “I hope he’s feeling better soon.”

“He’ll live. Thank you so much for doing this at such short notice, Jared, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem, at least I have a few months before I have to do it again, right?” he laughs.

“True, we’ve lived here two years and we’ve only hosted twice.” Kim replies, “I hope you don’t mind, I brought my son with me, he’s just on break from college. Come on, honey,” she says, stepping aside to show the person with her. As soon as she does Jared’s stomach drops so fast he feels immediately nauseous.

The figure is taller now than he was, just a few inches shorter than Jared, himself. His face has become much more angular and it’s the face of a young man and not a teenager, his hair is longer but still styled messily. He’s much broader in the shoulders and chest but remains long and slender as is his natural body shape. There’s thicker stubble on his cheeks, now, too, but even with all of that there’s absolutely no mistaking who he is. The same blue eyes that have haunted his dreams are wide as they stare back at him in shock, and his candy pink mouth hangs open for a few seconds before he says, “Jay?” in a strangled, disbelieving voice.

“Wait, you two know each other?" Kim says, clearly suprised.

Jared feels like his lungs are about to explode as he holds his breath, heart pounding in his chest like it’s trying to break through his ribcage, a tattoo of shit, shit, shit echoing in his mind. He tries to wet his dry mouth but he doesn’t have enough saliva to manage it.

“You come into the coffee shop, iced vanilla latte with an extra shot, right?” his former lover, the kid who almost broke him, says. His tone is one Jared knows - he’s trying for calm but the older man can hear the slight shake in it because it’s far from the first time he’s made that happen with everything they’ve done together in the past.

“Yeah,” Jared man replies, somehow finding his voice and playing along with the ruse, “that’s me, that’s some memory you have there, buddy.”

“Kim, hey!” Alan’s voice rings down the hall making Jared jump. He watches as the woman heads towards her friend and neighbour before turning back to the young man in front of him. They stare at each other for long moments, neither saying a word even though Jared opens his mouth on several occasions but nothing will come out past the lump of panic in his throat.

Footsteps register behind him, the panic becoming stronger, “Who’s this?” Jensen asks, curiously, as he comes to stand next to his lover.

If Jared thought he felt sick before it’s nothing to how he feels now.

Chapter 8

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Supernatural: A Hands On Approach (Dean/Jack, NC-17)

2020-08-25T13:10:47Z

Title: A Hands On Approach
Pairing: Supernatural, Jack/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Age difference, pseudo incest, first time, hand kink, oral fixation, bottom Jack
Summary: One of the things that never ceases to amaze him is how long Jack’s fingers are for his overall frame. They’re not freakishly long, they’re just longer than you’d expect someone of Jack’s height to have, and they’re slender in the same way as the rest of him. More than once Dean’s marvelled at the fact those fingers, the conduit for Jack’s powers being thrown out into the world are so elegant, delicate, even, the skin smooth and unmarred by calluses and past breaks like a couple of his own. Even his nails are neat and well cared for, barely a speck of dirt ever under them despite them digging up a grave a few hours ago. They look so soft, too, and the thought of touching them gets Dean hard in no time if he allows himself to go down that path.

A/N: I don't deny that this is completely self indulgent hand porn because I have such a thing for Alex's hands...well, Alex in general (duh!) but seriously, those hands are spectacular and the show has blessed us with so many close ups I'm convinced I'm not the only one with that obsession! ;)

Dean’s not blind, he’s aware that Jack’s attractive...more than that, the kid is fucking hot. He also knows he shouldn’t be aware but it’s hard not to notice the slender frame, long limbs, tight ass, wide, soulful blue eyes and soft smiles that draw attention to plush, pink lips. It’s a lethal combination on the best of days but today his attention is firmly elsewhere, and it’s happening more and more frequently. His eyes are being drawn to a part of Jack’s body that he’s never really paid attention to on anyone else before, but now he’s become obsessed and it’s getting to be a problem because those fucking hands are mesmerising.

He’s not sure when he first noticed them but once he did, it’s all gone to shit. It’s always innocent on Jack’s part, thankfully he’s blissfully aware of the thoughts running through Dean’s head and the way his cock twitches when the kid does the simplest of things. The way his coffee cup is dwarfed by the boy’s large palm, the already small cup seeming even smaller in Jack’s grip. The way he gently smoothes his fingers over the pages of a book, the way they seem to fly over the keyboard when he’s immersed in research, even the way they lay limpy on his crossed legs when he’s watching a movie is all kinds of sexy to Dean.

Right now it’s just the two of them, gone midnight by the time they got back from a hunt, an open pizza box between them on the kitchen table. Dean thought his body was too tired from hours of driving and being thrown against a wall by the poltergeist for anything more than food and a beer, but that was before the kid started what in the older man’s opinion is a free porn show, and his dick is certainly not showing signs of exhaustion.

Jack is holding a beer bottle in one hand and the other is plucking pieces of pepperoni off a slice of pizza. Dean’s gaze is flitting between the two, like so often when Jack’s hands are doing something, not sure where to settle. When the kid lifts a piece of the meat to his mouth then starts to suck the grease off his fingers Dean’s face flushes and he figures it’s safer to dip his head and concentrate on the one the kid has wrapped around the bottle in front of him, at least that way his gawping will be less obvious… he hopes.

One of the things that never ceases to amaze him is how long Jack’s fingers are for his overall frame. They’re not freakishly long, they’re just longer than you’d expect someone of Jack’s height to have, and they’re slender in the same way as the rest of him. More than once Dean’s marvelled at the fact those fingers, the conduit for Jack’s powers being thrown out into the world are so elegant, delicate, even, the skin smooth and unmarred by calluses and past breaks like a couple of his own. Even his nails are neat and well cared for, barely a speck of dirt ever under them despite them digging up a grave a few hours ago. They look so soft, too, and the thought of touching them gets Dean hard in no time if he allows himself to go down that path.

Jack is saying something but all Dean can do is watch as the kid’s hand slides from the middle of the bottle up to the neck, gorgeous fingers curling tighter to wrap around the glass, and the eroticism of the gesture hits like a punch in the gut. Not for the first time the hunter wonders what those fingers would look like wrapped around Jack’s cock, and if the kid actually does at night, just doors away from Dean’s own room. Many a night the image of it in his head has the hunter hard and leaking into his own hand, his thoughts inevitably turning to imagining what Jack’s hand would look like around Dean’s cock. He can picture every detail of Jack’s hand and transfer it to his fantasy of long, pale and nimble fingers around his thick shaft, the kid’s pale skin a stark contrast to the flushed, red head of Dean’s dick.

The hunter blinks back into awareness of the present when he hears his name being repeated in a worried tone. He looks up to Jack’s face to see concern written all over it.

“Is everything OK, Dean? You look…” he pauses, his eyes skimming over the older man’s face and chest, “well I don’t really know. You’re breathing like you’ve been running, is something wrong?”

Dean’s cheeks flood with heat from embarrassment as well as arousal and he reflexively brings his beer to his mouth, emptying the half full bottle with a few deep swallows, “I’m fine,” he says afterwards, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “guess that bitch winded me more than I thought, that’s all,” he lies, clutching his ribs to sell it. As he presses his fingers into the tender area he finds it’s not that much of an exaggeration, a couple of ribs are definitely cracked but he’s had much worse.

Jack blinks at him, a small frown creasing his smooth forehead for a moment, “Do you need me to take a look?” he waves a greasy hand over his shoulder indicating the cupboard with the first aid supplies in, “I can wrap them for you.”

“I’m fine, Jack,” he replies with a little more force than he intended, a combination of panic and lust at the thought of the kid’s hands on him in any way. He feels immediately guilty at the slight wince the nephilim can’t hold back, “sorry, buddy, just tired, ya know?”

Jack nods, warily, but says nothing. He keeps looking at Dean, though, and it makes the hunter fidget under the scrutiny, his guilty conscience getting the better of him. When the kid breaks eye contact it’s to look down at his plate, plucking two pieces of pepperoni which are stuck together with cheese, lifting them to his mouth, head tipping back, slick tongue coming out to wrap around it before chewing and letting out a satisfied noise. There are napkins in the holder on the table but Jack forgoes one, instead choosing to clean the greasy mess off his skin, himself.

Dean’s breath catches as he watches Jack’s thumb disappear into his mouth, and then blood rushes simultaneously to his cock and pounds through his ears at the slick noise before Jack moves on to his index finger, sucking it into his mouth almost to the second knuckle. When the kid hums around it before pulling it out with a slick pop it’s all Dean can take, the combination of those fingers and that soft, pink, made for sin mouth, it’s too much for him. His cock jerks and he feels the damp patch in his boxers grow wetter still and a moan slips from between his own lips before he can stop it. Jack's middle finger is halfway to his mouth when it stills in mid air, the frown returning to his face.

“Dean, your lip,” he says, softly.

It takes the older man a moment to realise there’s a hot throbbing in his bottom lip, and another moment to realise he’d been biting on it, reopening the cut on there from the leg of the chair thrown through the air he wasn’t quite quick enough to dodge completely, damn poltergeist. Automatically he licks his lip and tastes the familiar coppery tang of blood, then brings his hand up to wipe away a few drops with the back of his hand. He hears a vague rustling sound as he studies the smear of red on his skin and from the corner of his eye he sees Jack’s hand coming towards his face. His eyes fly up to look at the nephilim, who is offering him a small smile while he holds his index and middle fingers only centimeters away from the older man’s lips.

“Let me?” Jack asks, not elaborating any further until Dean frowns at him, “I can heal it but I need to practise,” he says.

Dean raises his own hand, wrapping his fingers around Jack’s slim wrist to stop him reaching over any further, but he doesn’t push him away, can’t bring himself to, his downstairs brain wanting the closeness even when his upstairs one is screaming at him, “It’s just a cut, kiddo, no big deal.” Jack’s gaze flicks between Dean’s eyes and lips and the hunter feels oddly scrutinised, his heart thumping in his chest. He’s about to pull back when Jack’s eyes take on that damn kicked puppy look, and God damn it, Dean’s resolve crumbles and he lets out a sigh. It’ll only be for a few seconds, it’ll make Jack feel like he’s helping and Dean’s a grown man, he can get himself under control for that long. He rolls his eyes and shakes his in a very put upon way, “Fine,” he says, ignoring the wriggling in his stomach as Jack’s face breaks into a grin, “if it’ll keep you from hounding me, do it just this once.”

Jack leans forward and presses both fingers very gently to the flesh, and Dean can’t help the sharp inhale of breath at the touch. He hears the mumbled ‘sorry’ from across the table, right before there’s a warm tingle that has nothing to do with the faint glow coming from the nephilim’s hand as he heals the skin. It was a tiny injury compared to some that have been angelically healed before now but it feels different, probably because Jack’s powers aren’t like anything else on Earth...or maybe it’s just because it’s Jack.

“Better?” the kid asks, softly, a look on his face that’s half hopeful and half curious.

“Yeah,” Dean croaks, frozen to the spot as Jack’s fingers stay where they are. Nervously, the hunter swallows and licks his lips, briefly catching the kid’s skin with his tongue which draws a small gasp from across the table. Jack flexes his wrist slightly and Dean loosens his grip to let him pull away but to his surprise the nephilim stays where he is. Their eyes meet, again, and Dean’s pretty sure the kid’s breathing a little heavier than before, knows he certainly is himself as Jack lightly strokes over the flesh under his fingertips as if he can’t believe the healing worked.

“Do you hurt anywhere else?” Jack asks, not taking his eyes off where he’s touching. He moves so his fingers apply a little more pressure, the supple flesh giving under it and Dean feels the pull where his lips are parting slightly under Jack’s touch, the kid’s thumb almost resting the older man’s chin as he changes the angle of his hand, slightly.

Reflexively Dean shakes his head, “No,” he rasps, the movement causing Jack’s finger to curl a little to maintain contact. The hunter’s skin prickles all over as he feels the digits rest against the crease of his lips. Again he swallows, his tongue snaking back out to wet the dry flesh, somehow not registering that it will come into contact with skin that’s not his own until it happens.

“Dean,” Jack rasps, the word sounding rough and raw, strange to the hunter’s ears because he’s never heard the kid’s voice like that and it goes straight to his aching cock.

There’s a tension in the air, something thick and heavy and Dean feels like if he could hear anything over the pounding in his ears there’d be a sound like a low, electric hum. He suddenly becomes very aware of the hold he has on Jack’s wrist and how he can feel the pulse beneath his fingers, hammering against the thin skin as fast as his own is. He slowly runs his thumb in a small circle and Jack inhales sharply, his eyes briefly flickering to where they’re joined, back to Dean’s eyes and then drop down to his fingers against the older man’s lips.

Dean’s not sure which of them moves first, maybe it’s both of them at once, he doesn’t actually care about anything other than the smooth slide of Jack’s fingers between his lips, right now. He makes a seal around them, testing to see whether Jack will pull away but all the kid does is let out a shaky breath and push in a little further. He feels the change from smooth nail to soft flesh which becomes a little firmer and guesses they’re in his mouth up to the first knuckle. The older man eases back to wet his lips, tightening his grip on Jack’s wrist, then slowly slides his mouth back down over the slim digits. He holds there for a moment, watching the kid’s chest rise and fall quicker, then moves his tongue, rubbing it along the pads of Jack’s fingers, tasting a slight tang of copper, then pizza and underneath it the flavour of clean skin and Jack.

For what could be seconds or minutes he loses himself in the feeling of licking and sucking on those fingers he’s been fantasizing about for months, the pleasure of having them sliding over his tongue, the shape of them, the way they feel slim and thick at at once in his mouth. He lets out a moan when a whimper falls from the kid’s lips and that’s what breaks the spell.

“Shit, Jack, I’m sorry, I….” he hisses as he jerks back, almost falling off the bench seat in his haste to get away. He’s filled with shame and it’s a struggle to force himself to look Jack in the eye, but he does it. He’s not surprised to see the kid standing, no doubt to run away, but then he is surprised when Jack’s face sets in that determined look he gets and he moves towards Dean. The older man stands, bracing himself for the punch he’s bound to get, frowning when the kid reaches out and cups his face, “Jack?” he asks, his brain function not allowing for much more.

The nephilim leans forward and presses an uncoordinated kiss to Dean's lips, leaving the older man stunned. When Jack pulls back his eyes are filled with awe and lust, “I thought I was imagining it,” he says, smiling brightly before leaning forward again.

“We can’t,” Dean says when he breaks the kiss, lightly gripping each of Jack’s wrists and pulling them away, “Jack, it’s not…” he doesn’t get any further because Jack’s nodding. Dean’s world tilts a little, there’s the sound of wings flapping and in the blink of an eye they’re in Dean’s bedroom. Jack takes a step back, holding two fingers towards the door - the same fingers that had been in his mouth, the older man’s brain supplies - turns them slightly and the sound of the lock clicking firmly into place echoes through the quiet room.

“Now we can,” Jack says with a smile, stepping in closer and pressing hot, insistent lips to Dean’s, again. It’s wet, messy and full of unpractised eagerness but right now it’s one of the best things Dean’s ever felt, only bested by the feeling of Jack’s hand wrapping around his suddenly bare cock.

Hours later, the hunter has seen that reality is much hotter than any fantasy he’s had about watching Jack’s hand working his cock, it’s everything he imagined and more. In his head he’d never got as far as to watch in awe as his come dripped from those long, beautiful fingers, and he certainly never imagined how sinful it would look when Jack pushed those fingers into his own mouth to taste before pushing them into Dean’s mouth.

They’ve both worked out that Jack’s as obsessed with Dean’s mouth as the older man is with the kid’s hands, which is a bonus for both of them. Dean’s heard how beautiful Jack begs and pleads, watched him shake and fall apart, coming all over his belly and chest seconds before the older man came deep inside that tight little ass, and they’ve discovered that Jack’s angelic healing means he hardly needs any recovery time before he’s hard and desperate again.

Jack's head is resting heavy on the older man’s shoulder when something occurs to Dean. He lifts his own head to watch the kid tracing his fingers over his still tender ribs, “You haven’t healed them,” the hunter says, “I think it’s the least you can do after wearing me out.”

Jack huffs a laugh into the sweaty skin of Dean’s neck before he pushes up on his elbow to look down at him, “I thought I could do that tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Dean asks, wondering what he’s missing, “They kinda hurt now, kiddo, especially after what we just did.”

Jack smiles down at him, curling his hand around Dean’s ribs, “Uh huh, tomorrow...” there’s a knowing glint in his eyes that makes the older man feel a little like he’s being played. The usual look of genuine innocence on Jack’s face is replaced by a completely fake one, “unless you don’t want my hands on you, again, of course...”

Dean groans, knowing he’s doomed. From now on neither of them will be satisfied with anything less than a hands on approach.

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Supernatural: Good Boys Ask Nicely (Jack/Dean, NC-17)

2020-08-11T19:31:35Z

Title: Good Boys Ask Nicely
Pairing: Supernatural, Jack/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Age difference, pseudo incest, secret relationship, begging
Summary: Established Dean/Jack. In reply to a Tumblr Ask ""Jack begging for Dean's cock 👀 " ... that's it, that's the fic!

“Dean,” Jack whispers urgently in the soft light of the older man’s bedroom as he closes the door behind him, “wake up.”

The hunter stirs, somehow knowing he’s safe in the bunker and he’s not under any immediate threat because he doesn’t sit bolt upright and grab for the knife under his pillow, “Wha’s goin’ on?” he slurs.

Jack smiles fondly as he watches the confused, sleepy look spreading across the face of the man he idolises as he blinks into a state of semi wakefulness. The combination of the way he rubs one eye and his hair sticking up in all directions is both adorable - not that he’d ever tell Dean that - and sexy as hell, “You said next time we were alone…” he leaves it open, letting the older man connect the dots.

“Shit, we’re not alone, we still gotta be careful, Jack.”

The Nephilim takes a few steps further into the room, stopping only a couple of feet from Dean's bedside, “We’re as alone as we’re going to get without you driving us out to the middle of nowhere, again,” he says, bending down to cup his lover’s stubbled cheek and offers him a small, hopeful smile, “please?”

Dean lets out a sigh and sits up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and raising his head to press a soft kiss to Jack’s lips, “This isn’t careful,” he says before slowly and briefly licking into Jack’s mouth, then tugging on the lower lip with his teeth in a way he knows drives Jack crazy.

The feeling of Dean’s hot, wet tongue when it pushes back into Jack’s mouth sends a flush of heat through the younger man’s already hot body. His cock, which was half hard in anticipation as he slipped inside the room, now fills completely with the taste and closeness of the older man. Jack moans into the kiss, wrapping his free hand around Dean’s waist and stepping in closer so they’re pressed up against each other. His tongue comes out to tangle with Dean’s but before he can deepen the kiss the hunter breaks it, their lips parting with a slick pop.

“We can’t,” he says, pressing his forehead to Jack’s, though in contrast to his words the Nephilim can feel the man getting hard against his hip, “go back to bed, sweetheart, we’ll go for a drive somewhere tomorrow, OK?”

Jack sighs, he feared Dean might react this way, far too concerned with Sam finding out about this aspect of their relationship even though Jack doesn’t care who knows, there’s no shame in loving someone. He takes a step back, raising his hands to Dean’s shoulders and gives a shove hard enough to make the older man stumble and sit back onto the bed. He’s growing more and more frustrated and wants to call at least some of the shots once in a while, “We can do that, too, I want to feel you now, Dean, please...I’ll beg if I have to.” As soon as the words leave his mouth he hears Dean’s breath hitch and sees the older man’s pupil’s dilate with lust.

“Jesus, Jack,” Dean rasps, “you can’t say things like that.”

The rawness of the older man’s voice sends a shiver down Jack’s spine and his heart beats a little faster because this might be the upper hand he’s been searching for. He keeps looking straight into Dean’s eyes before slowly lowering himself to the ground, kneeling barely a couple of inches from his lover’s spread knees, resting his hands on his own thighs. He looks up at Dean, “Please?” he says, again, his own voice a little rougher in that way he still isn’t used to hearing.

“Jack…”

The Nephilim hears the warning tone in Dean’s voice despite the heated look in his eyes but chooses to ignore it, lifting his hands and clutching them together in front of him as if in prayer. Something in the back of his mind tells him it’s wrong to be doing it under these circumstances but the way a whispered ‘fuuuck’ leaves Dean’s lips before his breath speeds up tells Jack that maybe it’s the good kind of wrong, “Please,” he repeats, putting as much of the need he feels into the word and holding the hunter’s gaze, pleading with his eyes as much as his words.

Dean swallows and licks his lips before reaching out to thread a hand into Jack’s hair, not moving him, just holding on, “Who taught you to play dirty like that?”

Jack smirks and raises an eyebrow slightly, silently answering the question because of course he’s learned it from Dean. He waits until the older man fondly rolls his eyes and shakes his head before he walks forward on his knees, slotting himself in between them. He unclasps his hands and puts one on Dean’s thigh, feeling hard muscle, warm skin and the slight scratch of hair under his palm, the other hooking around the back of the older man’s knee gently pulling it. The hunter takes the hint, spreading his legs wider, giving Jack more room. Keeping eye contact with those beautiful green orbs Jack leans down to press wet kisses from knee to inner thigh, dragging his lips over slightly salty, sleep warmed skin.

“Jack, stop,” Dean groans, more than a little out of breath, now.

There’s no conviction in the request and the Nephilim is confident he doesn’t actually mean what he’s saying so he keeps going, kissing higher up until his nose is almost at the crease of Dean’s thigh. Jack’s own cock leaks into his pyjamas as his lover’s twitches only inches from his face, breathing in the hunter’s musk and almost feeling the lust in the air. Jack’s burning up, he feels like he should be ashamed of how desperate he is to suck Dean’s cock right the fuck now, to have his mouth filled in just the right way, his senses overwhelmed by the smell, taste and feel of him, but he’s not. He leans in to nuzzle Dean’s balls though the worn cotton of his boxers and he lets out a small moan as the older man’s grip on his hair tightens, pulling hard enough to sting, lighting up more nerves in Jack's eager body.

He pulls back enough to look Dean in the eye again as he brings his hands up, noting how they shake with desire as he carefully free’s the man’s thick cock from the slit in his shorts. He holds it gently around the base and turns his head to rub his cheek against the hot length, relishing the slick trail it leaves from where Dean’s leaking. He licks his lips, watching his lover following his tongue as he does, then looks up with big wide eyes, “Please, Dean, can I have it?” he croaks.

“Shit, so needy, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Dean rasps, rubbing his thumb over Jack’s bottom lip before he covers the Nephilim’s hand with his own, tilting his cock towards the waiting mouth and using his grip in Jack’s hair to pull him down onto it.

The feel of Dean sliding into his mouth makes Jack moan with the sense of bliss that he only gets when the hunter fills any part of him up. His own untouched cock throbs as hot, hard flesh slides smoothly over his tongue and soon he knows he’ll do more begging, not only because Dean obviously likes it, but because he does too. First he’ll be begging the hunter to come in his mouth, then deep in his ass, and if he needs to beg loud enough that Sam will hear it from down the corridor then that’s what he’ll do.

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Supernatural: Heaven Scent (Jack/Dean, NC-17)

2020-08-11T18:41:15Z

Title: Heaven Scent
Pairing: Supernatural, Jack/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Age difference, pseudo incest, secret relationship, scent kink
Summary: Established Dean/Jack. In reply to a Tumblr Ask "Dean loves to nuzzle into Jack's neck because he smells like ____________"

Dean has a scent kink, but only for Jack.

Jack is making a mountain of a sandwich when Dean walks into the kitchen after he and Sam get back from their hunt. It’s late, the rest of the occupants of the bunker will be fast asleep but Dean knew the kid would still be awake. He smiles to himself, Jack will deny he waited up for them to get home safely, he may not even know that’s what he’s actually doing, but it still makes Dean feel warm inside knowing he’s coming home to someone nowadays.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says quietly from the doorway, his smile growing with the look of delight and relief on Jack’s face when he sees him, “you’re up late.”

Jack blinks at him in that adorable way he has and points the knife in his hand towards the counter, “I was hungry, I’m making sandwiches,” he says, unnecessarily, “do you want me to make one for you and Sam?” His smile dims a little at that and looks over Dean’s shoulders, “Where is Sam, is he OK?”

Dean pushes away from the door frame and walks over to the boy, “He’s fine, just unloading the car,” he assures, running a thumb over the small frown making a crease in the smooth skin of Jack’s forehead, “I doubt he’ll want anything other than a drink, I could eat, though.”

The Nephilim leans into Dean’s touch, resting a hot hand on the hunter’s waist and the older man can feel him almost vibrating with his need to step into his lover’s arms but the new development in their relationship isn’t public knowledge so they have to be careful, “You’re always hungry,” he replies, a fond smile on his face. He throws a quick glance at the door, “for one thing or another!” he adds.

Even though he’s damn near exhausted Dean’s cock stirs a little at that, “Damn right,” he says in a low voice, lifting his own hand to rest on Jack’s pyjama clad hip and then sliding his hand around to squeeze the kid’s ass quickly before the sound of Sam’s footsteps makes him step away. He reaches out to open the fridge and pull out a beer, waving it at his brother, “Want one, Sammy?”

Sam shakes his head, “No thanks, I’m gonna get some water and then sleep for at least a day.”

Jack quickly moves to fill a large glass and hands it over, “There you go, Sam, is that enough?” he asks, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for the man’s approval.

“That’s great, Jack,” Sam replies with a tired smile, “g’night.”

“Night, Sam,” the kid replies, his right hand raising in his trademark wave even though the other man’s already turned away.

When Jack picks up the knife again and moves back to the counter to cut the sandwich in half, Dean takes the opportunity to take a few deep swallows of his beer then presses himself up against the kid. He slides his hands around the slim waist, hooking his chin over the boy’s shoulder to nuzzle into his inviting neck. The shiver and small moan that falls from Jack’s soft pink lips makes the older man smile, the kid is always so sensitive. He lays the knife down and tips his head to one side, giving the hunter more access, trusting him completely.

Dean presses a gentle kiss to the smooth skin, drawing in the addictive scent of the young man as he does. Somehow Jack always smells like a combination of candy floss and sunshine that morphs into something spicy and woody with underlying earthy, musky notes that drive Dean insane with desire. He knows from experience that for now the sweetness is the overriding scent and he breathes in as deeply as he dares, if he allows himself to indulge too much he’ll end up bending Jack over the counter and it’s too risky. He pressing another couple of kisses to the Nephilim’s neck, followed by one behind his ear, then when he can feel the slight tremble in the kid’s body and hear his harsh breathing he buries his nose in the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck where the woody scent is stronger.

“Dean,” Jack says, his voice shaky, “I want you.”

The older man smiles against the soft blond hair under his lips and slides one hand down to cup Jack’s hard dick through his cotton pants. From the damp patch already there he guesses his boy isn’t wearing anything underneath them, “I know you do, sweetheart,” Dean says, his voice low and husky. He allows himself one stroke of the boy’s shaft, earning a gasp in response before he forces himself to let go and step away. The disappointed noise Jack makes goes straight to his cock, twitching to full hardness, now.

Sandwich forgotten, they head quickly and quietly to Jack’s room where Dean wastes no time in getting the kid naked, mapping out creamy, unblemished skin with his hands and mouth until the Nephilim is squirming and begging for more. The older man of course gives his boy exactly what he wants - what they both want - working his fingers then his cock into the perfect heat and tightness of Jack’s hole, kissing and licking into that sinful pink mouth, pulling away only to listen to the soft pleading sounds the boy makes and to kiss his sweaty neck and throat, pulling in the changing scent. It’s salty-sweet and musky now and Dean’s convinced that the kid is giving off some kind of cosmic pheromones because he can practically smell and taste Jack’s approaching orgasm.

The boy clings to Dean’s shoulders, moans getting louder, his slim hips bucking underneath the older man’s rough hands, his long legs wrapping tight around his lover’s waist as Dean fucks into him with harder and faster thrusts as the boy tightens around him, coming with a strangled cry. The extra pressure around his dick, Jack’s torso covered in his own come and the earthy, musky smell of it is what sends Dean over the edge, too.

After his softening cock slips out of Jack’s body he rolls them onto their sides, wrapping his arms tight around the boy, despite them both being hot and sweaty. One arm loops around Jack’s waist and the other rests across his chest, hand loosely wrapped around that long, elegant neck to hold him in place while Dean presses kisses into his sex damp hair at his temple and nape. He breathes in deeply, taking the uniqueness of the Nephilim’s new scent, the one that combines all of his own elements with Dean’s, and their shared sweat and come.
“I was doing some reading,” Jack says, after he’s caught his breath, his angelic healing allowing him to recover quickly.

“Mmm,” Dean replies, “nerd. What did you learn this time?”

Jack shifts in his embrace and Dean loosens his arms so the boy can face him, “The internet says that some people like to eat food off each other.”

Dean frowns, not quite following the kid’s train of thought, exhaustion and afterglow making his brain sluggish, “What about it?”

A sly grin crosses the Nephilim’s face, “I was thinking maybe we could get you a nice warm cherry pie, tomorrow, I know how you love to smell it before you eat it so I figured you might want to, you know…” he trails two fingers down his own chest and Dean’s eyes follow the movement.

A new wave of lust sweeps through the older man’s body as his brain catches up to what Jack’s offering. The kid has never complained about the way Dean smells him even though he doesn’t really get why it turns him on, and now here he is, basically bringing the only other hot, sweet scent guaranteed to have Dean’s mouth watering into the equation, “Fuck, yeah,” he groans, imagining the combination of the heavenly scents and flavours of his lover and his favourite food.

Tomorrow is going to be a good day.

.

Supernatural: Déjà Vu (Sam/Dean, NC17)

2020-08-11T16:03:16Z

Title: Déjà Vu
Pairing: Sam/Dean (Wincest and Weecest)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Sibling incest, Weecest, bottom Sam
Summary: In response to "Coach Roth banging the new janitor in the supply closet. A concept."

Sam and Dean relive a memory from their first time at Truman Hight. Weecest flashback smut.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean says with a mischievous grin, nodding his head towards the supply closet, “I got a free period, how about we really take a trip down memory lane?”

Sam’s heart speeds up immediately at both the heat in his brother’s eyes and the particular memory he’s referring to, “God, Dean, shut up,” he hisses, looking around at the few students rushing past them in the halls to get to class, but of course nobody’s paying any attention to them, they don’t care about the substitute Coach or the new janitor.

Dean takes a step closer, licking and scraping his teeth over his bottom lip in a way he knows drives his brother crazy, flicking his eyes between Sam’s eyes and mouth. The younger Winchester’s breath catches and he feels his cock start to fill against his will, more so when Dean leans in to speak low and husky in his ear, “C’mon, Sammy, you loved it…such a desperate little thing you were back then, it didn’t even take more than my tongue in your mouth to have you begging for me to fuck you,” he palms his brother’s ass cheek, “and we both know you still can’t get enough of my cock, little brother.”

A shiver runs down Sam’s spine as he remembers that day in November 1997. There was a chill outside but he was dripping in sweat inside the small closet, pressed chest to chest to his brother, long legs wrapped around Dean’s waist, skinny arms around his shoulders, leaking cock trapped between their naked bellies. He remembers the clammy heat of having his young face buried in the older boy’s neck to muffle the moans coming from his own mouth as his brother worked first his fingers, then his fat cock into Sam’s hungry hole. He remembers digging his nails into Dean’s skin as he came hot and hard between their bodies, the grazes on his back from being held up against the shelves, the bruises on his hips from where Dean gripped him a little too tight and the bite mark on his shoulder as he shot a huge load of come deep inside his baby brother’s body.

With another glance down the corridor to make sure the coast is clear Sam unlocks the supply closet door and shoves the older hunter inside before pulling the cleaning cart in behind them. As soon as the door is closed Sam finds himself pulled against Dean’s chest once again and soon their tongues tangle, clothes are shed and although Sam’s too tall for his brother to hold him up now it’s not long before he’s back up against the shelves, face first this time, pants hanging off one leg, ass presented to his brother and groaning in pleasure as Dean slides into his still wet and loose hole from where they fucked in the shower this morning.
Later, when they duck out of the room Dean wears the same smug grin as back then while Sam is once again sweaty, fucked out and leaking his brother’s come. Just another reason Truman High will always hold a special place in his heart.

.

Supernatural: Lightweight (Weecest, NC-17)

2020-08-11T15:56:43Z

Title: Lightweight
Pairing: Sam/Dean (Weecest)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Weecest, sibling incest, first time
Summary: Written in response to the Tumblr Ask "14yo tipsy Sam, horny Dean, first time. 500 word limit. Go!"

The title refers both to Sam’s low tolerance for alcohol and his size because we know canonically what he looked like at fourteen from After School Special. I failed on the word limit, such is life.

The beat of some shitty pop song batters Dean’s ear drums as he walks through the living room searching for his brother. The kid is way too young to be at this party and come Monday Dean will find the asshat that allowed a fourteen year old in here and rip their lungs out. He finally spots Sam standing in the kitchen looking a little lost before his eyes meet Dean’s and his face lights up like a Christmas tree. That smile makes Dean’s step falter slightly because what used to make his chest swell with love for his little brother now makes his stomach clench with lust and guilt.

Dean’s been looking at his brother in ways he shouldn’t be for months, now, and to make matters worse Sam’s been looking back. He’s cocky enough to know he’s hot and plenty of people look at him, but he doesn’t have a valid reason for why his eyes keep sweeping over his baby brother’s changing body and wanting. Some days it’s all he can do not to strip the kid out of his clothes and cover that long, lithe body with his own and press him down onto the bed. He wants to trail his hands and lips over that long neck, chest, newly forming abs and the belly that’s losing the last remnants of puppy fat but is still a little rounded over the forming muscles, until Sam’s squirming and begging, guiding Dean’s fingers wrap around his hard, leaking cock, or as the older boy’s been thinking about more often, to his tight virgin hole.

He shakes his head to clear the image and realises Sam’s standing in front of him. He knows he should be giving him shit about being at the party, and from the glazed look in his eyes and the flushed cheeks, the kid’s been drinking as well, but right now all he can do is watch as his baby brother’s tongue flicks out to wet those sinful, candy pink lips.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” Sam asks, his ever changing voice barely recognisable so rough and *fuck* if that doesn’t go straight to the older teen’s cock. When the kid steps closer he can smell the beer and the familiar scent of Sammy under all the hormones, and Dean’s breath catches in his throat as he hardens fully.

“To get your drunk ass,” he snaps, his own voice rough with lust, immediately regretting his choice of words because now he’s thinking about Sam’s ass again. He groans and tries to think of something else as he reaches out to grip Sam’s upper arm to guide him out, but because the kid’s tipsy he stumbles and crashes face first into Dean’s chest, righting himself almost immediately with his hand scrabbling over Dean’s hip for balance.

The older Winchester looks down at Sam, heart hammering in his chest when he feels his baby brother unmistakably hot and hard against his thigh, his own cock twitching as the kid goes up on tiptoes, throws a long arm around his brother’s neck and presses their lips together in a kiss that’s uncoordinated but hot, slick and perfect. Dean has no excuse other than loss of blood flow to his upstairs brain when he bends and lifts Sam up, sitting him on the counter, wrapping those long legs around his waist and grinding their cocks together, all without breaking the kiss.

All too soon Sam’s smaller body is jerking, moans and gasps falling from his lips before a cry of Dean’s name as he comes in his jeans right there in the middle of the party he should never have been at.

“Fuck, Sammy!” Dean says half in shock and half in awe, taking in the deeper flush on Sam’s cheeks, his slick, swollen lips and the strands of soft, shaggy hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead while the kid blinks back to some kind of lucidity.

“Mmm,” Sam hums eventually, looking up at his big brother with heavy eyes, “I think I’d like that,” he says, wrapping his arms and legs tighter, “take me home?”

Dean doesn’t hesitate to throw Sam over his shoulder and take his brother out to the car with a hand on his ass - he was right, the cheeks fit perfectly in his hands - and when they get to the motel and he’s sure Sam’s sober enough, he doesn’t hesitate to do everything he’s fantasised about for months, either.

Supernatural: A Glow In His Eyes (Jack/Dean, M, ficlet)

2020-08-11T15:45:50Z

Title: A Glow In His Eyes
Pairing: Supernatural, Jack/Dean
Rating: M
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Age difference, pseudo incest, coming untouched, secret relationship
Summary: Established Dean/Jack. In reply to a Tumblr Ask based on my head canon in that Jack's eyes glow when he comes, so what happens when Dean makes him do that right in front of Sam, and his brother doesn't even know? >>> We’ve seen Jack’s eyes glow in different situations, mostly when it’s things he can’t control, like being scared or angry so it’s the fact that it’s physiological makes me think that it fits any situation, including orgasms. *nods sagely* I find it strangely sexy watching his eyes change (and change back), it’s just another part of him that makes him different and also very special.

Jack shifts in his chair, a small sound of distress falling from his lips making Sam look up from the book he’s reading while he, Dean and Jack eat their breakfast. He’s slightly concerned at the flush on the Nephilim’s cheeks that wasn’t there a few minutes ago when he came into the kitchen and pulled down a box of sugar filled cereal with a hopeful look on his face. The glare of the fluorescent lights catches a faint sheen of sweat that’s forming over the boy’s forehead and upper lip, and when Sam leans closer he can see their young charge’s eyes are a little glassy.

“Are you feeling alright, buddy?” he asks, reaching out to place the back of his hand on Jack’s forehead to test for a fever, but he’s cut off by Dean’s snort into his coffee mug.

“He’s fine,” the older man says with a smirk, “right, kid?”

“Mmm hmmm,” Jack mumbles, crunching on some cereal with what appears to be a grimace of pain on his face.

“Do you have a stomach ache or something?” Sam asks, growing more concerned as Jack brings one hand to cling onto the edge of the table.

“Um… ah… a little,” Jack almost winces, wriggling in the chair now, his breath speeding up slightly, “I think…” he throws a glance first at Sam, then his eyes dart over to Dean, throwing an almost pleading look in the man’s direction, “I should go…”

Dean’s chair makes a scraping sound on the floor where he brings it closer to the table across from Jack before he reaches out and picks up a slice of bacon up from the pile the boy laid out for him, “You’re not done, yet,” the other hunter says, nodding towards the barely there amount of sugary crumbs at the bottom of the bowl Jack has in a death grip, “it’s good manners to finish before you leave the table, kiddo.”

“Dean,” Sam frowns at his brother who seems to be swinging his leg under the table if the slight rhythmic movement of his upper body is anything to go by, “if he needs to use the bathro-” he’s cut off by the sound of a choked off whimper and turns to see the Nephilim’s body go stock still and his eyes glow golden, the bowl shattering in his hand, “Oh my God, Jack, what is it?” Sam hisses as he scrambles to kneel at the boy’s side with a dish towel in his hand, worried the kid is about to throw up.

“Now he’s done!” Dean says, smiling smugly before shoving the rest of the strip of bacon in his mouth.

.

Supernatural: A Not So Poor Substitute (Jack/Dean, NC-17)

2020-07-23T19:43:42Z

Title: A Not So Poor Substitute
Pairing: Supernatural, Jack/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Age difference, pseudo incest, sex toys, ass to mouth, barebacking
Summary: Established Dean/Jack. Dean gets home from a hunt to find Jack in a compromising position. Pure smut with a bit of crack.

"I'm disappointed in you, kid," Dean says with a heavy sigh as he walks in a slow circle around Jack's bed, taking in the sight of the Nephilim's lithe, naked body where he's on hands and knees in the middle of the mattress. The boy is looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, breathing heavily and a flush of both arousal and embarrassment is covering his cheeks, neck and chest. Despite being literally caught in the act of fucking himself with a piece of silicone, his cock is still hard and leaking and Dean fights to keep the smirk off his face, “well, what do you have to say for yourself?” he demands.

Jack’s mouth, which had been as wide open as his eyes, snaps shut with an audible clack of teeth but he doesn’t seem to notice if it causes him any discomfort, too focussed on his older lover. He nervously licks his lips, a quick flash of tongue over his lush, pink mouth, before he takes a breath deep enough to raise his shoulders. “Dean…I ... I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” he almost stutters his words and Dean can’t quite tell if it’s embarrassment or fear, “I couldn’t,” his shoulders sag, “I couldn’t wait, I’m so sorry.”

The older man feels a little quiver in his stomach at the kicked puppy look on Jack’s face and his resolve waivers ever so slightly, before his irritation takes back over, “You couldn’t wait? I was only gone three days and I drove thirteen hours straight for part of that.” He grips Jack’s chin and jerks the boy’s head up, hard enough to make a point but not to hurt him, “I had to pull over for a break, or would you rather I’d fallen asleep at the wheel, huh?”

Jack’s face drops, “What? No, of course not, why would you say that? I just missed you, Dean,” he frowns, eyebrows drawn down in a way that puts a large crease in his forehead, “didn’t…” he pauses, puppy eyes back out in force, his voice quiet and uncertain, “didn’t you miss me?”

“God fucking damn it, Jack!” Dean hisses as those huge baby blues are practically boring into his soul. He’s always been a sucker for that look on someone he cares about, and if he didn’t know better he’d swear Sam has been giving the kid lessons. He shakes his head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the question as he takes a step forward, sliding his hand from Jack’s chin to his cheek and wrapping the other around his slim waist as the boy pushes up and throws his arms around his lover’s neck. That mostly innocent face is staring at him intently as he waits for an answer, “Of course I did, sweetheart,” he says, soothingly, “you know I always do.”

Jack’s face lights up in that smile, the kid at Christmas look, and Dean’s lost. He leans in and presses a kiss to Jack’s lips until the boy moans impatiently and moves closer, letting Dean feel his still hard cock against his thigh, the inhuman heat of it bleeding through denim. In response the older man licks into his mouth with longer, deeper and more urgent sweeps of his tongue, squeezing the kid’s ass as his own cock starts to fill.

He slides his fingers toward the crack of Jack’s ass and the Nephilim automatically repositions himself, widening his legs and tipping his hips back to give Dean better access as the hunter’s fingers find the firmness of the silicone lodged inside him, taking hold of the base to slide it out halfway and push it back in. Jack lets out an obscene moan, his fingers scrabbling between Dean’s shoulder blades, telling the man he got the right angle to graze that spot inside the kid’s body that he loves to work over just to see how much slick he can get out before Jack is shaking and begging. He draws the dildo out almost all the way and pushes it back in again, twice, three times before Jack whines and drops his hand to Dean’s wrist, stilling him.

“Please, Dean, I need the real thing...the real you!”

“Oh, fuck,” the older man groans, “is it that one?”

Jack’s cheeks are even more flushed, clearly still embarrassed even though this particular toy had been his idea, “Yeah,” he nods, “it’s the only one I want, it’s the only one that feels right, now.”

“Turn around, let me see,” Dean rasps, cock twitching and leaking into his boxers. Jack scrambles to follow the instruction, jostling the bed as he gets back on hands and knees, legs spread wide to present his ass, and Jesus that’s hot all on its own, but knowing what the kid had actually been fucking himself with when Dean walked in sends a flood of heat through the hunter’s entire body. He rests his left hand on Jack’s lower back and reaches out with his right to grip the base of the toy once again. This time when he slides it out he withdraws it completely, ignoring Jack’s disappointed noise while Dean looks over the silicone, marveling at how lifelike it is.

When Jack had come to him with the mysterious package that arrived at their Post Office box the kid was blushing, his eyes wide and pleading as he chewed on his bottom lip, immediately piquing Dean’s curiosity. The kid’s breath hitched as he handed it over, “I saw this online and,” he gestured to the box, avoiding Dean’s gaze, “I thought, maybe...” he said, leaving it open.

Dean frowned when he looked at the ‘Clone-A-Willy’ kit in his hand, blinking a few times to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing, “You want me to make a cast of my cock?” he asked, taken aback at the randomness of it, not to mention Jack being so forward when so far Dean had needed to carely coax out of the kid what he wanted regarding sex.

If possible Jack turned an even deeper shade of red, nodding and rubbing his palms on his jeans in a nervous gesture, “I’d only use it when you’re away…” he offered, his tone hopeful even though his voice was shaky.

Dean let out a breathy laugh, “Well, shit, kid, I didn’t think you had it in you!” He felt himself flush slightly at the idea, not because he was really embarrassed, he’s had his dick in all manner of places but a plastic tube filled with liquid silicone had never been one of them. No, it was the low level arousal starting to fill his body at the thought of Jack not only finding this thing online, but actually buying it, not knowing whether or not Dean would agree for them to use it. He looked over at his young lover, “You really want this?” he asked, keeping any judgement out of his voice.

Jack’s face softened and spread into a small, shy smile, stepping forward into Dean’s personal space, one hand around his waist and the other on his chest, “I want to be able to feel you anytime I need to. I hate it when you’re gone, Dean, so this,” he lowers his eyes and bites on his lip, still nervous, “would make me feel close to you all the time.”

Dean shakes his head and lets out another laugh, wrapping his free hand around the back of the Nephilim’s neck, “That’s some kind of fucked up logic, kid,” he replied, leaning down to kiss the boy’s soft pink lips, “but I do kinda like the idea of your ass being stuffed full of me in some way. Alright,” he said with a decisive nod, “I’ll do it.”

Jack saying his name brings him back to the present, “Dean, please, c’mon,” he all but whines, “I need you.”

The older man sweeps his eyes over the toy again, still amazed at how the curve and every ridge and vein is exactly like the one straining against the confines of his jeans and underwear, then looks back at Jack’s empty hole, fluttering around nothing, hungry to be filled. Slowly but firmly he pushes it back inside his surrogate son, twisting his wrist so that the dildo catches Jack’s prostate at a different angle, moaning softly as the kid gasps, his hole clenching slightly around the silicone, and suddenly it’s not enough for either of them.

In a blur of motion Dean’s clothes are strewn across the floor, then he’s sat on the bed, back propped up against the headboard with a lapful of needy Nephilim straddling him, grinding his burning hot cock against the older man’s stomach as he practically devours Dean’s mouth. When Jack pulls away and utters another, “Please, Dean!” before positioning himself over his lover’s cock and slowly sliding down on it, the older man doesn’t think it could get any hotter than just being to slide right into his boy and watch him flex and bounce on his cock like it’s months since his ass was filled by real flesh instead of days...right up until Jack reaches over to the nightstand where the dildo down lies.

Jack grabs a tissue and wipes the excess lube off the silicone before he pushes up on his knees so that only the head of Dean’s cock is inside him, puts his free hand on the older man’s shoulder for balance and then raises the replica of Dean’s cock to his mouth, sliding is past sinful pink lips at the same pace as he sinks down onto his actual one, moaning at the feeling, a look of sheer bliss on his face, eyelids fluttering.

“Fuck,” Dean says with a hitched breath as Jack looks him dead in the eyes, sliding the substitute for his dick in and out of his mouth in a counter rhythm to that of his hips so that he’s constantly being filled in some way by Dean’s cock, “shit, sweetheart,” Dean groans, gripping the pale flesh of Jack’s hips and bucking his own up, fucking into his boy with thrusts as steady as he can manage under the circumstances, “angelic, my ass,” he pants, hearing the sheer lust in his own voice, “you’re pure fucking sin.”

Jack smirks around the cock in his mouth and squeezes his muscles around the one in his ass, effectively rendering Dean speechless. Soon the only sounds in the room are ragged breaths, the slap of sweaty skin on sweaty skin, their moans and the filthy sucking sounds Jack makes as he goes to town on the dildo like it’s the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth. Dean thinks the whimpers the kid lets out as he comes untouched, splashing hot and wet over both of them are some of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard. Jack’s dick is still slapping wetly against his belly as Dean fucks into him with more urgency until he comes with a guttural moan deep inside the kid’s body, pumping a load so big into him that it’s running down Jack’s thighs as well as Dean’s shaft and balls before he’s even finished emptying into the younger body. The kid had a point, it had been a long few days.

Jack drops the dildo onto the bed and steadies himself with a hand on Dean’s chest as he climbs off and flops down next to him, leaning up for a kiss when they’ve both drawn in some much needed oxygen, “Welcome home, Dean,” he says with a contented smile, small flecks of gold still flickering in his eyes as he recovers from his orgasm.

Dean smiles back, brushing some of Jack’s sweaty hair off his face, “That was a hell of a welcome,” he leans back in and kisses his sweet and not so innocent boy again, softly and without heat, enjoying the feel of his lover’s supple lips under his own, “you’ll have to up your game next time, though, buddy!” he chuckles.

Jack’s face turns serious for a moment, his head tilted to the side ever so slightly with that curious look he gets when he’s thinking before he picks the dildo back up. Dean frowns slightly as he watches the Nephilim staring intently at the silicone before his face breaks into a mischievous smile, “Maybe we can get both inside my ass at once?” he asks with a hopeful voice.

A boiling ball of lust hits Dean right in his stomach and his dick makes a valiant effort to come to life again at just the thought of it, “Holy shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he rasps, shifting to pull the Nephilim up onto his chest, “you really do have the devil in you, kid!” he says as he leans in for a deep, wet kiss full of tongue and teeth. At that moment he’s sure neither of them are bothered by the fact that the words are more than just an expression.

° ° ° THE END ° ° °

Supernatural: Between Family (Sam/Dean/Jack, NC-17)

2020-06-25T15:25:38Z

Title: Between Family
Pairing: Supernatural, Sam/Dean/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Pseudo incest, daddy kink, spit roasting, bottom!Jack, implied bottom!Sam
Summary: There's no plot here, folks, it's literally just porn with Jack between Sam and Dean!

Jack’s arms and legs are shaking with the effort of trying to keep himself upright on the bed, but he’s been holding the same position for at least half an hour and he’s a mess. His whole body is covered in sweat, fat droplets of it running down his temples to drip on the sheets below him, others trickling down the back of his neck where Sam’s lips and tongue lap them up as he slides long, thin fingers agonisingly slowly in and out of Jack’s hole. His other hand is wrapped around the boy’s shaft, grip too loose and moving too slow to give any real relief, it only serves to tease him further.

“S-Sam, p-please,” Jack whines, “I want...I need…hngh,” he trails off as the younger Winchester crooks his fingers and applies a little more pressure to that spot inside Jack that makes his cock jerk and drool even more, adding to the slick that’s already coating his shaft, balls, Sam’s hand and the sheets.

Sam nuzzles the back of Jack’s neck, humming against the skin and causing it to tingle under his lips, “What do you need, baby boy?” he rasps, his gravelly voice the only indication so far that he’s not as calm and composed as he’d like his lovers to think. He spreads his fingers wider as he pulls them almost all the way out, stretching muscles that have been ready for what’s to come next for what feels like forever, “You gotta say it, Jack, we need to know.”

“God damn it, Sammy,” Dean barks, “give the kid a break!” Jack turns his head towards the older man who’s sitting in just his boxers on a chair in the corner of the room, rubbing his palm over the head of his clothed cock and looking back at Jack with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.

The Nephilim tries to form words of thanks for Dean’s mercy but Sam chooses that moment to push his fingers in deep with a firm thrust and the sound comes out as a cry, instead, “Tell us,” Sam says, breathing harshly into Jack’s ear now.

“F-fucked,” Jack sobs, “I want to be fucked, please!”

Sam groans and grinds his naked cock against the inside of Jack’s thigh and the boy is pleased to feel he’s not the only one leaking and more than ready to move on. The younger Winchester stills both of his hands, teasing Jack even more, “Such a filthy mouth on you. Which one of us gets this greedy hole, who do you want to fuck you?”

“My d-daddy,” Jack replies, his voice as shaky as his limbs. He cries out when a hard slap lands on his ass and he quickly realises Dean has moved and is by the bed, palming the cheek he just smacked while Sam’s hands are occupied elsewhere. The sting brings Jack back to the moment a little, enough to think, at least. They nearly always leave this decision up to him, but honestly as long as they’re all together he doesn’t care, everything they do is mindblowing to him. Taking in a deep breath he locks his jelly like arms and legs as best he can and turns his head towards them, “Dean…I want daddy Dean to fuck me tonight.”

Sam huffs out a laugh and tuts, “After I spent all this time fucking you with my fingers, I don’t even get a look in?”

The younger man shakes his head again, Sam isn’t really complaining, they all know he loves to open Jack up ready for his brother to just slide right on into him, “Wanna suck you, instead.” he pants.

Dean groans and Jack knows it’s his words and combination of watching his hole clench at nothing after Sam slides his fingers out. They all enjoy this, but Dean especially loves to be part of spit roasting him, whichever end of Jack’s body he’s on. The younger man has a sneaking suspicion Dean likes it almost as much as when Sam’s in the middle, even though he’s never said it out loud.

Jack’s world tilts a little as Sam crawls up the bed to sit propped up against the headboard and Dean climbs on behind him. The older brother hooks an arm around Jack’s waist and pulls him upright, his firm chest pressed tight to the boy’s back, hand rubbing a soothing circle on Jack’s belly, “You alright, sweetheart?” he asks, softly, directly into his ear. Jack nods and turns his head as far as he can from this position to kiss Dean’s sinful lips. The hunter moans into it, slowly licking into his boy’s mouth as if he can show his thanks for what Jack’s giving him with each broad sweep of his tongue. It makes the Nephilim dizzy from arousal as well as lack of oxygen.

“C’mere, Jack,” Sam says when they pull apart, his cheeks bright red and his body glistening in sweat in the stuffy room, “let us take care of you, OK?”

Jack walks on his knees up the bed, resting one hand on Sam’s shoulder and the other on his face as he leans in for a kiss, loving the way the older man’s giant hands cup his face. Sam uses a lot more teeth than Dean when he kisses and Jack enjoys the contrast. When they started this he thought Dean would be the more aggressive in bed but most of the time it’s turned out to be Sam...that’s not to say the older Winchester is any less passionate, though. They compliment each other perfectly and Jack is ecstatic he’s been allowed to join in their dysfunctional family unit so completely, and so intimately.

Sam pulls out of the kiss with a moan when Dean’s hand wraps around his cock and starts slowly fisting at the same time as he hooks his free arm around the young Nephilim’s waist, practically lifting him into the position they want him in.

Soon Jack is back on all fours, his chest practically touching Sam's thighs as he leans down to lick and suckle at the head of the younger brother’s cock. He makes sure to take his time as payback for Sam teasing him for so long. Jack can tell from the way the man’s thighs and hands twitch that he’s desperate to push his head down onto his cock and thrust his hips, claim his surrogate son’s mouth the way they both like, but today it’s not him in charge. He tightens his lips around the whole of the tip and at that moment Dean pushes his fingers deep inside Jack’s empty hole and it draws a deep groan out of all three of them.

Jack pulls off Sam with a slick, obscene sound, licking the man’s flavour off his lips as the head of Dean’s cock presses against his hole, slick and hot, gentle pressure making the muscles spread just a little more to accommodate him. Dean reaches around Jack’s arm to take his little brother’s shaft back in his fist and pumps hard enough for Sam to cry out in pleasure, his hand scrabbling over the Nephilim’s shoulder, “What do you need, baby boy?” he teases his little brother, repeating his own words to Jack from earlier.

Jack can’t help but snigger at that, and Dean squeezes his hip in acknowledgement of their shared joke.

“Fuck you,” Sam grits out, his hips pumping so he’s fucking into Dean’s fist.

“Nuh uh, Sammy,” Dean says, “this time I’m fucking our boy, here, you can fuck me another day. I’ll let you ride me nice and slow if that’s what you want, but not now. Come on, baby brother, tell Jack what you want, he’s been so patient.”

The taller man’s hand comes to the back of Jack’s neck, “Down,” he says, voice strained. Dean releases his brother’s cock and puts a hand between Jack’s shoulder blades, pushing slightly in silent instruction. The Nephilim goes willingly but waits for the feel of Dean’s flared head pushing inside him, stretching his ass wide before he takes Sam into his mouth again. When Dean finally pushes balls deep into him, filling him completely and giving him what needs, the motion rocks Jack forward and he sinks right down over Sam’s length.

Dean always starts out fucking into him slowly, his hips working to split Jack open on his thick cock in deep thrusts. He pulls out almost all the way, spreading the kid’s cheeks wide to see the head of his cock tugging at the rim before he pushes back in, the slow drag of every inch of him making Jack feel like he’s burning up from the inside out.

Sam fists a hand in Jack’s hair and he uses the other against his shoulder to push upwards and support some of the younger man’s weight, “You ready for us, properly now, baby boy?” he asks.

Jack hums his agreement around the cock in his mouth, working lips and tongue in the ways they both like, the older man’s hand pulling his hair a little as Jack gets it just right. The Nephilim groans deeply from the back of his throat as Dean’s hips slam forward, the dull thud of skin on skin echoing in the room. They set up a steady rhythm after that, Dean gripping Jack’s hips tightly, lifting some of his weight off the kid’s knees and pulling him back onto his cock in an attempt to get deeper even though it’s physically impossible. Jack angles his hips so that Dean’s cock hits that spot every few thrusts, clenching and releasing his muscles to feel the different sensations, but mostly to hear the beautiful sounds Dean makes when he does, breathy moans and desperate little grunts as he fucks steadily faster into Jack’s smaller, oh so willing body.

With each push forward Jack moans around the taller man’s cock, the way Dean is lifting him and Sam is guiding his head as he fucks into Jack’s mouth with long, slow thrusts means that he only has limited control of his movements. He feels so full, wanted and loved like this, surrounded by his strong, beautiful daddies.

Jack gets lost in the wonderful sensations and the primal sounds all three of them are making. That combined with the filthy words and praise falling from Sam and Dean’s lips quickly bring Jack to the edge. He couldn’t get a hand on himself even if he wanted to, they all know he’ll come untouched from this alone. When Sam’s breathing and thrusts become more erratic, he waits for the inevitable, “Gonna come, baby boy,” in that voice, low and raw like he’s been swallowing glass that never fails to make Jack shiver and his cock throb. Not long after that Dean’s hips work faster as he, too, is close. It’s not the first time Jack’s wondered if coming together is just another thing the brothers do in sync just like everything else, years of practice making it second nature. He’s never asked about it, not even sure they’re aware of it.

The younger man’s whole body feels like it’s barely his own, gripping the sheets below him so tight his fingers are almost numb. It’s like he’s floating where the brothers are holding him up, Dean particularly. He feels safe in the hunter’s grip, even as he starts pounding Jack’s tight ass like a man possessed, intent on taking his boy apart before he gives into his own needs. Jack feels his pleasure building, every muscle tensing as his orgasm crashes through him, moans muffled around Sam’s flesh, ass clamping down around Dean’s. He feels jets of his own come hit his chest and chin, his mouth going slack enough for Sam to slide in that little bit deeper as he comes all over the back of Jack’s tongue and his throat. Dean’s grunts of, “You two...so hot.” followed by a strangled cry as he spills hard and hot, painting Jack’s insides.

As Jack’s still catching his breath, sweaty, sated and cradled between the Winchester brothers as they all trade slow, lazy kisses, the stories he’s heard about angels, bright white rooms, beautiful gardens and souls at peace mean nothing...for the young Nephilim, this is Heaven.

°°° THE END °°°

Supernatural: Virgin Territory (Let Me Be Your Guide) - J2, NC-17, 6/?

2020-06-22T23:11:13Z

He sleeps until late afternoon on Tuesday, gets showered and dressed but he can’t be bothered cooking, still aching from the gym and the marathon, no holds barred fucking session. He’s about to call for a takeout when there’s a knock at the door and is astonished to find Jensen standing there, “Hey, you,” he is all he can think of to say. So eloquent, dipshit, he scolds himself.

Jensen gives him an uncomfortable look, “Mom sent me round with this,” he nods down to his hands where he’s holding something covered in a dish towel.

“Come in,” the older man says, stepping back quickly to make room. When the teen hesitates Jared’s stomach clenches, “Jen, please?”

“Alright, fine,” he replies, his tone is clipped, though it sounds a little forced, Jared thinks.

He follows Jensen into the kitchen and watches as he lays down what turns out to be a large tray when the towel is pulled off.

“It’s a thank you from mom for letting me stay over,” he says, looking at the ground.

“Oh,” Jared replies, feeling anxious again now that Jensen’s back in his proximity, “give her my thanks, then.”

“Will do,” the teens nods, covering it back up, “the cherry pie is awesome but the lasagne isn’t as good as yours,” he adds with a small smile, “don’t tell her I said that, though.”

“Deal,” Jared says, softly, “listen, Jen…” he moves closer to the teen, “we need to talk, can you stay, just for a few minutes?” he hears - and curses - the hope in his own voice.

“I shouldn’t…”

“Maybe so, but I shouldn’t want to hold you right now and yet I do,” he says, before he can stop the words coming out of his mouth.

The teen blinks up at him, evidently as surprised as Jared is, “You do?” he asks, quietly.

Realising that actually, he does, Jared nods, “Yeah,” he swallows, “I’m really sorry I upset you, Jen.”

The kid sighs and looks back down at the floor, “I guess we need to clear the air,” he says, waving his hand in the direction of the living room, “can we sit?”

“Of course,” Jared replies, letting out a shaky breath, relieved that the kid isn’t storming out, again, “do you want a drink?”

Jensen shakes his head, “No, mom will be expecting me back for dinner.”

They both sit on the sofa and Jared realises as soon as they do that each time they’ve done this before they’ve ended up getting physical in some way. He can tell by the way Jensen holds his breath for a moment that he’s thinking the same thing. He doesn’t want to spook the kid but he also doesn’t want to make a big deal of it, so he sits but at arms length away, “Look, Jen, I don’t want this awkwardness between us. I fucked up, I know that, but…” he gives Jensen a sad small, feeling what might be a little guilty, “shit, I’m really bad at this. I’m a fucking idiot, OK?”

The teen’s face is eerily blank until he frowns, slightly, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“About which part?”

Jensen rolls his eyes, “Pretty much all of it,” he says, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth before he presses his lips together to cover it, “but I’m bad at this, too. I guess I just figured you’d know why I was pissed off,” he shrugs.

“I’m not a mind reader, Jen!” he sighs.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” he replies with an answering sigh of his own.

“Honestly?” he reaches his hand out towards Jensen’s knee before he realises it and quickly redirects it to the sofa, hoping the teen hasn’t noticed, “No, I don’t. All I know is that I said I trust you and you walked out on me.”

Jensen takes a shaky breath, “It’s the way you said it, and the implication that I’d tell someone about us. I know what a risk you’re taking, Jared, but something about you constantly telling me you trust me feels...off, somehow,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“What do you mean by ‘off’?” he asks, raising a hands in a calm down gesture when Jensen’s face turns to an annoyed expression, “I can’t learn not to do it in future if I don’t know exactly what you mean, Jen, I’m sorry.”

“It didn’t feel sincere, it felt like you were just saying it.”

The kid has a fair point, Jared likes to keep reinforcing that he trusts his young lovers to make sure they believe him, he’s just not met anyone yet that questioned it, “OK, well that’s something I can work on,” he says, truthfully, “I don’t know what else I can do but apologise, Jen, and I don’t want to keep doing that if you think me repeating myself comes across as insincere.” That kinda feels like a dick move even to himself, but it’s also correct.

Jensen winces a little, “Only say it if it’s true, but don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Be honest with me, Jared, can you do that?”

The older man’s stomach clenches because telling his lovers what they want to hear, and what he needs them to hear is literally what he does. In order to stop this becoming a complete clusterfuck and for him to keep Jensen on side, even in a neighbourly way he’s going to have to change his behaviour and that’s a fucking scary thought, “Yeah,” he says, finally, “I can do that.”

Jensen looks relieved and even offers him a smile, “Good, thanks. So where…” he pauses, licks his lips and rubs his hands on his jeans, “where does that leave us? Do we forget this happened and just see each other like regular neighbours, barbecues and shit?”

“Is that what you want?”

Jensen looks at him for a long time, then shakes his head, “No. You said I should tell you what I want as well as what I don’t want, so there it is. I’d like us to get over this and go back to how we were, but if you don’t feel the same way …” his face is a picture of hurt and it feels like a punch to Jared’s gut.

He quickly weighs risk versus reward up in his mind, somehow his body winning out as he moves closer to the teen, “Jen, I think I was pretty clear, but I am gonna repeat myself because it is true. I want you,” he puts his hand on Jensen’s knee, relieved when the kid covers it with his own, “we both know I’m not supposed to but it doesn’t change the fact that I do. I said earlier that I wanted to hold you, can I do that, sweetheart?” he asks, softly, partly because he doesn’t know if it’s too much for one go, and also because he’s maybe a little afraid Jensen will say no.

The teen swallows and there’s hesitation on his face before he speaks, leaning towards him, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Thank fuck for that, come here,” Jared says, more relieved than he expected, pulling Jensen to straddle his lap. The teen’s arms automatically wrap around his neck and he rests his head on Jared’s shoulder. The older man wraps an arm around the teen’s waist and the other around his back, “I missed you,” he whispers, a little unsettled when he realises it’s true.

Jensen pulls back and lowers himself down, ass on Jared’s thighs and presses their lips together. It’s tentative at first, like he doesn’t know whether he should, then when Jared kisses back the teen presses more firmly, quickly deepening it and bringing his tongue out to play.

Jared can feel the teen’s cock twitch against his belly and he moans into the kiss, moving his hands so that one cups Jensen’s ass and the other grips the back of his neck to hold him in place. He sweeps his tongue around to taste the kid’s mouth before he has to pull back to breathe.

“I missed you, too,” Jensen pants. His cheeks are pink, pupils slightly blown and Jared’s heart rate picks up, this fucking kid is gonna be the death of him.

A thought pops into Jared’s head, “When did you last come, baby?”

“What?” Jensen replies, “What does that…” he starts, then draws a hiss in through his teeth when Jared palms the teen’s cock through his jeans, “with you, not since then,” he says in a rush.

“Really? That almost three days, impressive self control there, kiddo!” Jared says, increasing the pressure of his hand, his fingers lightly gripping Jensen’s hot shaft through the denim, “So, if I jerk you off right now, I bet you can come quick for me, right? That way nobody will get suspicious if you’re gone too long?”

“Oh God,” Jensen replies, rolling his hips to grind into Jared’s hand, “yeah...yeah, won’t take much,” he pants.

Jared wastes no time getting Jensen’s jeans open, reaching inside and taking out the teen’s beautiful cock, “Then let's see what we can do,” Jared rasps, his own cock coming to life as he wraps his fingers around Jensen’s flesh, sliding his hand up and down a couple of times before thumbing the head and gathering up the slick already leaking in a steady stream, “Look at you, all desperate, so pretty...” he pauses to listen to Jensen’s breathy moans, “let me hear you, sweetheart, don’t hold back.”

Jensen grips his shoulder tightly, rocking his hips so he’s fucking into Jared’s fist, gasping each time the older man rhythmically squeezes tighter on the upstroke. His eyelids are fluttering like he’s fighting to keep them open and look at Jared, his cheeks red, now. Biting his bottom lip does nothing to hold in the grunts and whimpers, not that Jared wants him to, anyway, “I’m close,” the boy pants.

Jared moans at the desperation on Jensen’s face, his own cock leaking when he feels the teen’s get harder in his hand, the musky smell of him filling the hot air between them. He thumbs the slit, then rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves under the head, drawing out a delicious strangled moan from his boy. Normally Jared would like to drag this out, but knowing that despite the desire he must have had to touch himself like any horny fifteen year old has, Jensen held back and the fact that he’s ready to shoot his load so quickly makes the older man dizzy with arousal. He can already tell there are only seconds left before Jensen comes, so he pulls up his own t-shirt, exposing his belly and abs, “Let go, baby boy, paint me up with that huge load of yours,” he rasps as he pumps the kid’s cock faster.

Jensen lets out a deep groan and does just that. Long jets of hot liquid land on Jared’s skin, making him shiver. His grip loosens but he still keeps gliding his hand over the teen’s cock to get out every last drop, “Oh fuck!” Jensen pants, his eyes racing over Jared’s tanned skin covered in milky white streaks, “I’ve never come that much at once, before!”

“That’s something you can tick off your list, then!” Jared winks before he licks his hand clean.

Jared works from home the rest of the week, doubling his weekly targets in just three days. He puts it down to his good mood and superior sales techniques, telling Tom he can pay him their regular wager when he sees him next week. Everything combined, the nameless fuck at the start of the week, getting Jensen back even against his better judgement and the high from his work success have Jared ready to go into the weekend in a great mood.

Jensen calls round after dinner on Friday to return Jared’s copy of The Three Musketeers, and he also holds two film adaptations of the book, "You wanna ‘compare and contrast’?" the teen asks with a cheesy grin.

"Seriously, that's the best you've got for Friday night, an English assignment?" Jared teases as he follows the teen into the living room.

Jensen puts everything down on the chair, "If I'm interrupting the wild party you have going on, I can just leave," Jensen smirks, waving a hand at the two unopened bottles of beer on the table and the nature documentary on TV, "What time are you expecting the hordes?"

"The orgy is next week, I’m conserving my energy until then!” Jared deadpans.

Jensen rolls his eyes, "Whatever," he says as he wraps his arms around Jared’s waist, "so can I stay for a movie?"

"Your folks know you're here?"

"Yep, mom said if you're OK with it… or rather,” he holds his hands up and makes air quotes, “‘as long as you don’t make a nuisance of yourself to that poor man’, I don't have to be home until midnight. We could watch both movies and still have time to make out...or just one and lots of making out!” he smirks.

"Hmm, so you're all mine for the next few hours? I can live with that!" he winks, leaning down to kiss the teen, straight in with his tongue now they know what each other likes. He looks over at the DVDs and pulls a face when he sees the 2011 version, “I’m not watching that abomination, once was bad enough, thank you very much. The only decent thing in it is Rochefort’s rooftop sword fighting scene, but I’m definitely up for Chris O’Donnell’s D’Artagnan, though,” he says, waggling his eyebrows, suggestively.

Jensen raises an eyebrow, himself, “Oh, really? That’s my competition is it?”

Jared bends and lifts Jensen off the ground, smirking when the teen flails a little before wrapping his limbs around his lover’s body, “He’s fucking hot, but you have no competition, darlin’,” he says, leaning in to kiss Jensen again, feeling the teen’s smile under his lips.

Partway through the film Jared’s on his second beer and Jensen is halfway down his first, “You don’t have to drink that if you don’t like it,” he says, amused by the slight grimace when the teen swallows.

“It’s not that,” Jensen replies, “I like the flavour but there’s a bitter aftertaste that’s weird.”

“Yeah, true,” Jared replies stroking Jensen’s hair, “it’s just the type of beer it is. You want a Coke instead?”

“Got any tequila?” the teen asks, hopefully.

Jared huffs out a disbelieving laugh, “There’s no way I’m giving you tequila, kiddo.”

Jensen climbs into his lap and puts a hand on Jared’s chest, leaning into his neck and pressing an open mouthed kiss to that spot he knows has the power to turn the older man into goo, “Please?” he says, warm breath puffing over Jared’s damp skin, leaving it tingling. He sits up to look his lover in the eye and traces a thumb over his nipple through his shirt, causing Jared to moan both at the feeling and Jensen’s boldness, “I’ve had it before.”

“You have?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, “Who gave you that?” there’s an uneasy feeling in his belly to think that someone - someone else - would have been plying the teen with alcohol.

“My cousin,” Jensen shrugs, “gave me a shot on Christmas eve last year. I liked it.”

“Huh, and here’s me thinking I was the first to corrupt you,” he says.

Jensen smirks and grinds his ass down over Jared’s crotch, “You’re the first for everything that matters,” he whispers, grinning when the older man’s hips buck up.

“Fuck, Jensen,” Jared says, his voice already a little raspy, “you’re getting to be a tease, you need to be put in your place!”

“My place?” Jensen replies, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jared swallows, wondering for a moment if the teen is going to freak out again until he sees his pupils dilate. He slides a hand around the back of Jensen’s neck and holds him firmly in place, “It’s wherever the fuck I say it is,” he growls.

Jensen swallows and a quick glance at his crotch shows the teen’s getting hard, “Where do you say it is?” he asks, breathily, taking the older man’s other hand and guiding it to his dick, moaning when Jared traces his fingers over the head through the denim.

“Wherever I put you,” Jared says, lust shooting through him, “my lap, my bed… on your knees,” he says with a groan, his cock filling at the thought of the last one, imaginging pushing Jensen down to the floor right now and guiding that plush mouth down onto his aching cock.

The teen appears to read his mind and slithers down to the floor, his hands rubbing both of Jared’s thighs, “Tequila and another lesson?” he says, his voice low with lust, but shaking slightly with nerves.

“Jesus,” Jared all but whines, stilling the teen’s hands, “yeah, alright, tequila...just tequila,” he says, quickly pushing up off the sofa before his good intentions go out of the window and he fucks Jensen’s mouth before he plans to. He pulls out the bottle of tequila and two shot glasses, pouring himself one and throwing it back to try and calm down. After some deep breaths he feels more in control and heads back to the living room.

Jensen is sitting on the couch again, watching a shirtless Chris O’Donnell on the screen. The teen bites his lip as he’s pressing his palm to grind down a little onto his cock, “You’re right,” he smirks, “he is hot.”

“Eyes on me!” Jared says, voice sharp and commanding. He stands between Jensen’s legs, towering over him, the boy’s head tipped right back to look up at him with wide green eyes. It sends a rush of power through his body, this is one of the reasons he likes his lovers smaller than him, the fact that he can loom over them in a way that’s predatory and intimidating, but also makes them feel like they’re being cared for because they know he won’t hurt them. Sure, he’s punished teens for disobeying him, before, but only to remind them that he’s the teacher and so they do what he says.

Jensen’s breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed and his cock tenting his jeans, obscenely. He swallows and licks his lips, “Tequila?” he rasps, holding his hand out.

Part of Jared wants to hand over the bottle just to see those luscious lips wrap around the neck of it and watch his long, beautiful neck and throat as he swallows down the golden liquid, but he also needs to be aware of how much alcohol he’s allowing the teen to have. The next time they get a whole night together he’ll let him drink what he wants - within reason - but tonight he needs to only let him have a shot. On top of the beer he doesn’t want the kid drunk or about to throw up when he gets home. He hands Jensen both shot glasses and fills them, some of the liquid spilling over the teen’s fingers where Jared’s hand shakes slightly with lust. Jensen leans down, his pink tongue coming out to lick at his fingers before he closes his lips around the juncture between his thumb and index finger, sucking there and releasing the skin with a slick pop. Jared lets out a groan and feels his cock jerk the sight of it, “Shit,” he sighs, pulling one of the shot glasses from Jensen’s hand and throwing the drink back. The teen brings the other glass to his lips but Jared’s hand shoots out to stop him, “no, wait, I have an idea.

Jensen frowns but releases his grip on it, “What is it?”

Jared kneels down and grips the back of Jensen’s head, fingers threaded into the short hair as best he can, “Open your mouth,” he says. The teen obeys immediately, causing a fresh tingle of heat to coarse through Jared’s body. He takes half of the shot into his mouth and pulls on Jensen’s hair, tipping his head back a little and letting some of the tequila dribble into Jensen’s waiting mouth. The boy swallows and licks his lips, his tongue catching Jared’s slightly pursed ones where he’s holding the drink in. Jensen opens his mouth again, waiting for more. Jared repeats the action until most of the liquid has gone, keeping the remainder under his tongue until he captures Jensen’s lips in a kiss, sharing the last of it while their tongues lick at one another. By the time they part, both are panting and Jared can see a damp spot on the teen’s jeans where he’s leaking. God he loves how wet the kid gets for him.

“Fuck,” the teen says, gripping Jared’s shoulder, “I’m gonna get hard if I so much as smell that stuff, now!”

Jared laughs, “Well I’m good with that as long as you only drink it with me.”

Jensen nods, “I promise.”

“Good boy,” the older man replies, voice thick with lust, tugging on Jensen’s belt and zip to get into his jeans. The teen lifts his hips to allow jeans and boxers to be pulled off and Jared dips his head down to lick across the soaking head of Jensen’s cock, moaning at his flavour and the deep groan the teen makes. A hand cups the back of Jared’s head and his other grips the man’s shoulder, “gonna come in my mouth, again, sweetheart?” he asks, hands resting on the teen’s bowed thighs. Jensen bites his lip and wrinkles his brow, and Jared huffs out a disbelieving laugh, “You’re not seriously thinking about it, are you?”

The teen takes a couple of deep breaths, drops his hand from Jared’s head and pushes slightly on his shoulder, “Only if you do it first. Please, Jared, teach me how to suck your cock?”

.

Supernatural: On The Quiet (Jack/Dean, NC-17)

2020-06-20T13:31:46Z

Title: On The Quiet
Pairing: Supernatural, Jack/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my filthy thoughts
Warnings/kinks/enticements: Age difference, pseudo incest, daddy kink, wall sex, quiet sex
Summary: Inspired by the scene where Dean pushes Jack up against the wall and shushes him in 14x6, Optimism. What if Dean did that for an entirely different, filthy reason? ;)

A/N: This is because dragonardhill is a dirty enabler. I love and hate you in equal measure for bringing to my attention the thirst for Winkline on Tumblr which I was unaware of, but now my eyes have been opened to the demand. I shall happily fall down this rabbit hole because we need so much more of Jack with one or both of his Winchester daddies! xD

Sam, Dean and Jack have been researching for hours, coming up with precisely zero workable leads. It’s gone past late and into early and Jack’s eyes are drooping, the only thing keeping his head from sagging down onto his chest is the fact his elbow is propping it up, chin resting on his palm. Dean glances quickly at Sam, like the adorable nerd he is, still studying despite the purple bags under his eyes, too stubborn to give up and go to bed like they all should have done hours ago, then looks back at Jack.

The Nephilim’s long, pale neck is tilted away from Dean in a way that calls out, open, vulnerable and completely exposed to him. His normally smooth, perfectly styled hair is disheveled from where he’s been running his hands through it in frustration, and his plump bottom lip has gone from its usual soft pink to almost red where the kid has been chewing on it while he reads. The combination has had Dean at least half hard for the past couple of hours, but when the kid says he’s finally calling it a night in a voice that’s low and scratchy, rough like when Dean’s been allowed to fuck his throat, it’s all the older man can do not to moan out loud right there as his cock fills, completely.

Both brothers bid Jack goodnight and Dean gives it enough for Jack to change into his PJ’s and brush his teeth, then says his own goodnight to Sam. His baby brother waves him off with a promise to turn in after this last book that he’s part way through. Dean surreptitiously adjusts his jeans so he’s tenting them a little less obscenely and heads off to find Jack.

The kid is just leaving the bathroom, dressed in those ridiculous Star Wars PJ’s that make him look so young and innocent that Dean feels the now familiar of pang of guilt for what they do in the dark or when they’re alone for any length of time, along with a wave of sheer lust because fuck if those qualities don’t make him harder with the dirtybadwrong of it all.

As soon as he’s close enough he drags Jack around the corner into a corridor where they’ll have a little more privacy, the fact they’re on a timetable, and the potential of discovery adding an extra thrill to it.

“Dean, wha-?” Jack manages to get out before the older man slams their lips together, wasting no time in slipping his tongue inside the inhumanly hot cavern of the kid’s mouth. He puts one hand against the wall next to Jack’s head and the other reaches down to palm at the young Nephilim’s soft cock. Once the initial shock wears off Jack starts to kiss back, his tongue tangling with Dean’s, showing off everything the older man taught him, an arm around Dean’s back and palming the hunter’s solid cock through his jeans, “What’s brought this on?” he asks when they break for air, “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“Fucking teasing me all night,” Dean rumbles from deep in his chest, his blood heating up as Jack’s cock, long and slender like the rest of him, stiffens quickly underneath his hand, “messing your hair up, biting on your lips… only I get to make you look like that, you got it, kid?”

Jack shakes his head, baby blues staring earnestly back at him, “I didn’t do it on purpose, Dean, I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” Dean says, finger in front of his own mouth, “gotta be quiet, Sammy could be here any minute.”

Jack lets out a gust of minty fresh breath over Dean’s face, his eyelids flickering over dilating pupils as he presses his lips together in an attempt to cover the small moan that the older man still hears because of their close proximity.

“You like that idea, huh?” Dean says, slipping his hand inside Jack’s pants to curl his fingers around the kid’s cock, hard, smooth and almost burning hot to the touch. His own jerks inside his jeans and he can feel his boxers growing damp from his prolonged arousal, “You like the idea of Sammy catching us, seeing what his good little boy really gets up to when he’s not around?”

Jack nods, his breath hitching when Dean’s thumb rubs the bundle of nerves under the head of his cock, “Yes,” he pants, fumbling at the older man’s fly and working his hand inside denim and cotton, “he needs to know I’m not a kid, anymore, Dean, I don’t need treating like one!”

Dean drops his head to Jack’s shoulder, groaning at the feel of soft, clammy skin around his dick, unable to stop the rocking of his hips to fuck into the tunnel of the kid’s fist, “Not like this you’re not, you’re a big boy, now…my big boy, ain’t that right, sweetheart?” he coos.

Jack’s grip on Dean’s shirts tightens as the older man thumbs the slit of his cock, spreading the slick he finds there around the head before gathering more and working it down his shaft, pumping more firmly in a way he knows his surrogate son likes, “Yes, Dean, your big boy,” he whines, hips jerking forward to try and increase the pace.

“Nuh huh,” Dean says, working his own hips in counterpoint to Jack’s hand, pushing himself closer to the edge. He leans into the kid’s neck and licks a hot stripe up it, scraping his teeth over the tastiest part, “what’s my name when we do this?” he prompts.

“Daddy...I’m daddy’s big boy when we do grown up things,” Jack moans, followed by “oh fuck!” when Dean’s hand speeds up as a reward.

“Damn right you are!” Dean growls, possessiveness and a zing of pleasure running down his spine hearing the words, especially hearing Jack swear. He steps closer to the lithe body in front of him until only inches separate them, their knuckles almost brushing as they work each other's cocks at a more desperate rate, “You gonna come for daddy?” he asks, slipping his free hand under Jack’s shirt to rub and pull on a perky nipple. A whimper falls from Jack’s soft mouth at the added stimulation, eyes scrunched up and a crease in his forehead that Dean knows means he’s on the edge, still inexperienced enough to be able to hold out...for now. The older man wants to make this last, drag it out and draw more sounds from the kid as he learns about stamina but he’s too close, himself, feeling like he’s been on edge for hours ever since those first strands of hair fell loose over Jack’s forehead and Dean’s mind went straight to how that happens soon after the kid starts bobbing his head up and down over the thick cock he loves sucking so much.

“Close,” Jack moans, his hips bucking, a steady stream of pre-come slicking Dean’s hand and making obscene wet noises as the older man works him faster, “please!” he sobs.

Dean tugs harder at the hard nub of Jack’s nipple before he moves across to repeat the actions on the other. He shifts his other hand to concentrate on the top half of the kid’s dick, fingers tights as he works the head, feeling it swell and jerk.

“Do it, sweetheart,” Dean rasps, “come for daddy!” No sooner have the words left his mouth than wet heat covers his hand and he slams their lips together to swallow down Jack’s moans and whimpers as he wrings every last drop out of him. When he thinks the loudest noises are done he pulls back to look at his boy. He’s flushed, sweaty, panting and his half open eyes are shimmering as they change from the gold he can never control when he comes, back to his regular blue. Dean’s cock jerks at the sight of it, the extra thrill of knowing he’s the one to bring out that side of Jack’s nature through pleasure, alone.

“You, too,” the boy says, his hand tightening around the older man’s aching shaft.

It only takes a few more thrusts, heat and pressure building to a crescendo and Dean’s unable to hold back his own grunts and moans of the kid’s name as he goes crashing over the edge, coming hard all over them both. His chest burns as he gulps down air, releasing Jack’s softening cock.

Even as their mess soaks into their clothes and leaves their hands sticky, Dean can’t bring himself to care. Jack’s soulful blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he offers a broad smile, always so happy when he does something that pleases the eldest Winchester, and Dean’s chest flutters and warms.

He knows this thing between them is all kinds of fucked up, he knows nobody else will understand it but when he and Jack are together like this, just for a short time there’s no outside world full of evil, death, destruction and pain. He knows it won’t last, can’t last, reality will soon come crashing back around them, but for now he just wants to enjoy their stolen moments of something as close to happiness as they’re going to get for the time being. Why should either of them be denied that?

They both startle at the sound of Sam clearing his throat, an uncomfortable sound that Dean knows from years of experience is his brother’s awkward embarrassment, “Night,” he mumbles, quickly closing the bathroom door behind him.

.

Supernatural: Virgin Territory (Let Me Be Your Guide) - J2, NC-17, 5/?

2020-06-19T08:51:09Z

Jared blew Jensen again while the lasagne bubbled away in the oven, for no other reason than the kid was looking far too sexy for his own good sat on the worktop, thighs open and Jared’s shirt slipping down his shoulder to reveal a tasty looking collarbone. The teen had barely lasted two minutes this time but Jared hadn't minded, it was to be expected due to Jensen's inexperience and the few hours recovery time he'd had, the first time he'd only lasted longer because he’d already come a few minutes prior which was always Jared’s plan.

Watching a movie had been a lost cause, barely half an hour into it Jared threaded his hand into Jensen's hair, still slightly damp from the shower, meaning only to have the teen closer to him, but Jensen had climbed into his lap and started kissing the sensitive skin of Jared's neck that he discovered earlier, and that was that, movie forgotten. Soon Jensen was naked and Jared in just his boxers even though he was desperate to feel the teen’s skin against his cock, the thin layer of cotton was a reminder that Jared is calling the shots, they come off when he says and not before.

At Jared's insistence the teen had laid out on the sofa and wrapped his hand around his own cock, showing the older man how he likes to jerk off before Jared stopped the fast pace of his hand, saying he needs to start building up his stamina. He instructed Jensen to bring himself to the edge three times until he was a shaking, sobbing mess before letting him come, then used the slick mess to jerk himself to completion while Jensen watched, forbidden to touch him.

By Jared's count he's made the teen come four times in six hours, and right now he's working hard on drawing orgasm number five out of him. He hadn't intended to do this tonight, but when Jensen had climbed onto the bed on all fours, ass up in the air because he knew Jared was watching the older man's mouth had watered, knowing without doubt what he wanted to do. It had taken a little persuasion, the teaser that Jared had given during the first blow job not really enough to convince Jensen to spread his cheeks and be taught what pleasure Jared’s could bring with just his tongue, but once he pulled out the puppy eyes, promising to stop if Jensen didn't like it, the teen nodded and spread his legs, shyly.

At this very minute Jared isn't sure which of them is moaning loudest at the sensation of his tongue in Jensen's ass, it’s quite possibly him. By the time he shows the teen what his mouth is really capable of Jared knows he'll need to keep Jensen quiet so the other neighbours don't hear them, but for now the moans and whimpers are only for his ears.

Jensen's thighs are trembling and his hole is fluttering beautifully around Jared’s tongue, initial reservations forgotten as he rocks his hips, pushing his ass back onto the warm, wet muscle probing his insides. Jared pulls back to draw some air into his burning lungs, and he could almost come from the pitiful noise the teen makes when his hungry hole is left empty. This kid is going to be such a cockslut, he just knows it. He squeezes the creamy cheeks filling his palms, digging his thumbs in closer to the teen’s hole to keep him spread open as much as possible. They’re barely half an inch from the dusky skin and he could easily slip one in to feel the muscle give and the heat surround him, but he’s going to save that particular pleasure for another time because once they get to that stage Jared will have the teen taking his cock like a champ soon after. He’ll be done with being the first to have everything Jensen has to give, taking his fill for a few weeks more before it’s time to call it a day. He’s in no rush for this game to end any time soon, not when he has so much left to teach and the teen is literally coming to him, not even having to find excuses to be together like with previous lovers.

When they’ve both had time to get air into their lungs Jared leans forward, pressing his face back into musky, hot skin. He runs the tip of his tongue all around Jensen’s hole before he seals his lips over it completely and sucks on the tender skin, a wail leaving the teen’s mouth. He grazes his teeth over the swollen rim then leans further in to push his tongue in as deep as it will go, switching between slow, shallow jabs and long, sweeping licks, varying it so Jensen never knows what’s coming. When he feels Jensen’s hole clench and a groan fall from his lips Jared quickly pulls back, reaching his hand underneath Jensen to find his hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He covers it with his own, squeezing hard, “I said no touching, Jensen, do you want me to stop? Well?” he adds quickly when there’s no reply.

“Please…I need,” Jensen babbles, his voice desperate and strained.

“Answer me, Jensen, do you want me to stop?”

The teen draws in a deep breath and loosens his grip on his cock, so Jared pulls his hand back, too, “No, I’m sorry...don’t stop, I’ll be good, I promise!” he almost sobs. The combination of neediness, desperation and obedience sends an extra hot wave of lust through Jared’s body, causing his cock to twitch and leak in his boxers. He’s so fucking hard his dick has gone from aching to hurting, now, and he’s leaking so much he can feel the cotton clinging to the head of his cock, bittersweet friction every time he moves his hips. Jared prides himself on being able to hold off until his partners come at least once but he has his limits, and he’s fast approaching his.

“How close are you?” he asks Jensen, whose arms and legs are barely holding him up, now. The kid is exhausted but God fucking damn it he’s gonna come again because Jared told him he has to, and the teen doesn’t have the brain function right now to argue.

“I can’t,” Jensen raps, “please, Jared, I can’t come again.”

Jared’s not doing it to be cruel, he doesn’t want to see Jensen truly in pain, but he knows from experience that this exquisite torture will be worth for both of them, Jared seeing Jensen pushed to his limits; and afterwards the teen will feel grateful for being able to give the older man this.

Jared pushes up to his knees, sits on his heels and pulls Jensen into his lap, sweaty back to Jared’s chest, “You can do it, sweetheart,” he coos into the teen’s ear, “I know you can.” He can’t help grinding his hips against Jensen’s body, gasping and moaning at the stimulation on his cock but pulling back before he ends up coming all over the teen’s back. He wraps one arm around Jensen’s chest, holding him up while he rolls and tugs at the teen’s sore nipples with his free hand. The boy jerks in his grips, his hands weakly scrabbling at Jared’s thighs but he’s too sweaty to get a grip, “Come on, Jen, you’re doing so well.”

Something warm drops onto Jared’s arm and realises Jensen is crying, now, shaking his head and sniffling. Jared shushes him, pressing kisses to his shoulders and neck, releasing the kid’s nipples and rubbing soothing circles over his taut belly. He allows himself a minute to catch his breath before he lowers Jensen back onto the bed, turning him onto his back and slotting himself between the teen’s legs. He props himself up on one elbow, taking care not to crush his lover and kisses away the tears from his cheeks, then gently kisses his lips. Jensen’s arms come up around his neck and he pulls him into a deeper kiss, his hips bucking up against Jared’s and the teen whimpers with what the older man knows is his body fighting itself, wanting pleasure but not the pain. When they break apart Jared kisses his way down to the teen’s cock and waits for the boy to look at him.

“Jared, I…,” he rasps, but the older man doesn’t give him a chance to say more, licking the teen’s angry, oversensitive cock before wrapping his lips around the head. Jensen hisses and reaches down to grip his lover’s shoulder. Jared slides all the way down to the base, feeling how hot Jensen’s overworked shaft is. The teen’s hips buck and he screams, digging his nails into Jared’s flesh as he arches off the bed, his cock jerking as he comes with his whole body shaking. What would normally be ropes of fluid hitting Jared’s tongue is instead a tiny trickle and the older man knows it’s the last Jensen has, his balls completely empty. He gently eases his mouth off the teen and crawls back up his body.

There are more tears, Jensen panting like he’s run a marathon, trembling all over and Jared temporarily forgets that his own cock is screaming at him. He cups the teen’s face, pressing kisses to his chin and cheek, “Look at me,” he says, softly, waiting for Jensen to open his eyes, “there you are,” he smiles, “you’re so beautiful,” he says, “my beautiful boy. I knew you could do it, I’m so, so proud of you, sweetheart.”

Jensen’s eyes go soft and a small smile creeps over his lips. He’s too fucked out to speak, but evidently some of his brain is still working because he slides his hand down Jared’s chest and stomach. Thin fingertips brush the head of his cock and Jared’s hips jerk forward, sliding across Jensen’s belly. He lets out a breathy moan, suddenly his desperation to come, renewed. Jensen nods, pushing at the waistband of the boxers. Within seconds Jared pushes them down enough to free his cock and is fucking into the groove of the teen’s hip, the first skin to skin contact they’ve had. He slides a hand around Jensen’s back, hooking his hand over the teen’s shoulder for leverage, grunting and sweating as he chases his long overdue orgasm. His lover angles his head so Jared can kiss him and as soon as the teen’s tongue meets his, Jared is done for, his body bow string tight as he comes hot and hard all over the young body beneath him.

They lie there in silence for who knows how long until Jensen’s breathing begins to even out. Jared forces himself to get up and clean himself off before getting everything he’ll need to look after Jensen. The teen stirs when Jared starts cleaning him up with a soapy cloth, small whimpering sounds coming from his throat as when the fabric touches his still sensitive cock. The older man shushes him, then slides behind him, supporting the kid against his chest as he brings a glass of orange juice with a straw in it to Jensen’s lips, “You have to drink this, we gotta get some fluids back in you, baby boy.”

Jensen does as he’s told, holding the straw while Jared keeps hold of the glass. When he’s drank most of it the older man opens a power bar and puts it in the teen’s hand, “Don’t wanna,” he mumbles, trying to bat Jared’s hand away when he pushes it against his lips, instead. Eventually he takes a few bites which Jared figures will have to do for now. He feels Jensen shivering and rubs his upper arms, feeling a little concerned at how cool his skin is.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pressing a kiss to the teen’s temple. He grabs them both boxers and t-shirts from his dresser, and a hoodie for Jensen. He dresses himself as the teen watches him with sleepy eyes, and he feels slightly bad for making him get out of bed to pee and brush his teeth, but then he helps Jensen get dressed and into bed.

It’s been years since Jared actually had someone in his bed for the purposes of sleeping so it feels a little weird. He’s not sure quite where or how to lie but Jensen takes the decision out of his hands, lying in the middle of the mattress and despite being exhausted the teen somehow manages to wrap himself around Jared like a spider monkey clings to their mother, leaving him with no choice but to cradle the kid in his arms, head tucked under Jared’s chin.

Jensen’s asleep within minutes, leaving the older man to wonder how the fuck this became his life. He doesn’t do the cuddling in bed thing, the contact immediately after sex while he recovers is one thing but this is a whole different ball game and it makes him uncomfortable. It’s too much like what he used to have and if he’s honest, it scares him a little. By the time sleep takes him, having reflected on his past mistake he’s pretty sure the best course of action might be start to distance himself from Jensen before things get more complicated.

Jared wakes up early, much to his irritation because he was looking forward to having a lie in, maybe giving Jensen a reward for how well he did the night before by giving the teen his first lesson on giving a blow job while he had the chance, but it wasn’t to be.

He’d woken up spooned behind the teen, not sure at what point in the night happened because for a change he’d slept through the night. His hand rested on Jensen’s belly under his t-shirt and the soft, sleep warmed skin felt wonderful under his fingertips, and his cock nestled into the crack of teen’s ass through their boxers did wonders for his morning wood. He’d rolled his hips forward, slowly, kissing the back of the teen’s neck while stroking his belly which caused most people Jared had sex with to wake up, but evidently Jensen isn’t most people. He even shifted the teen onto his back and knelt over him, mouthing his cock through his boxers in another previously tried and tested way of waking a partner, but to no avail, Jensen was still dead to the world. Jared may have loose morals but all out molesting someone completely out of it isn’t something he’s OK with, so with a sigh he got out of bed.

By the time he’s done a full workout and taken a long, hot shower Jensen’s finally starting to stir, small snuffles coming from the lump under the covers. Jared can’t help but smile fondly at that, it’s really fucking adorable. He catches himself soon enough, realising he was about to stroke Jensen’s hair and be all affectionate...something he only does when he needs to, the goal always to put his lovers at ease and nothing more. Cursing himself for his slip he heads downstairs to cook breakfast, making plenty, he’s hungry himself and Jensen’s going to be starving.

He’s swallowing a mouthful of cereal when Jensen wanders into the kitchen in boxers and t-shirt, “Morning, sleepyhead,” Jared says in an overly cheerful tone, “good of you to join me!” He watches with amusement as Jensen double checks the clock on the wall.

“Dude, it’s only 10AM, I deserve sleep after what you put me through, last night. And coffee, lots of coffee.”

Jared has to concede his point, he did put Jensen through a lot physically, “Fair point, the coffee’s strong, help yourself.”

“Thanks,” the teen yawns, shuffling over to the pot then to the table. He gives Jared a one armed hug, then leans in for a toothpaste flavoured kiss, “I thought you might still be in bed when I woke up.”

“If you’d actually woken up like a normal person we’d still be in bed,” he teases. Jensen rolls his eyes and takes a gulp of coffee, more intent on getting his fix than anything else. The teen looks bone tired, swaying a little so Jared shifts his chair and pulls Jensen between his legs, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Worn out,” he replies, taking another sip of coffee, “I think you broke me.”

Jared strokes his hair, “I think ‘broke’ is a slight exaggeration, kiddo,” he laughs, “you’ll be fine after breakfast and a shower.”

“Doubtful!” he sighs with all the drama only a teenager can.

“Humour me, you’re not the first person to come their brains out,” he says, smoothing Jensen’s bed hair down, “eat and shower then if you still feel rough you can snooze until your parents get home or something.”

“Or something?” Jensen raises his eyebrow.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Jared replies with an eye roll, “I meant watch a movie, read a book...that kind of something.”

Jensen smirks, “So if I’d woken up like a normal person, what kind of something would you have had in mind?”

“Oh no,” Jared admonishes, “that ship has sailed. Come on,” he says, slapping Jensen’s ass, “sustenance…” he trails off when the teen takes in a sharp breath. Jensen looks up at him with a slight blush on his cheeks and licks his lips. He brings his free hand to Jared’s chest, bunching up the cotton of his t-shirt, looking like he wants to say something but he stays silent, swallows audibly and licks his lips, again, “Oh,” Jared says as the penny drops, “you like that, huh?”

“N-no,” Jensen replies, quickly. Whatever else he was going to say next turns into a gasp-moan combo when Jared slaps his ass again, hard enough to leave his palm tingling. Jared rubs the flesh underneath his hand and fixes the teen with a ‘don’t lie to me’ gesture, “Y-yes,” Jensen pants, tightening his grip, “I like it.”

“Duly noted,” Jared says, repeating the teen’s own words from last night back to him with a smirk.

“Is that OK?” Jensen asks, his voice quiet and uncertain.

God that tone of voice does things to Jared’s blood pressure, “Of course it is,” he replies, slapping the other cheek just to hear the hitch in Jensen’s breath. He leans in to speak into the teen’s ear, “don’t ever be ashamed of what you like, OK?”

Jensen nods, “Pretty sure some things should be shameful,” he replies, sounding a little breathless.

Jared plucks the coffee mug from Jensen’s hand and pushes his chair further back so he can lift the teen into his lap, a pleased hum vibrating his lips when his boy lets himself be positioned how Jared wants him, arms over his shoulders, thighs locked around the older man’s waist as best he can with the back of the chair in the way, and his hardening cock pressed up against Jared’s belly, “Shame is only for people who aren’t brave enough to admit and accept what gets them hot.”

“But aren’t some things, like, really bad?” Jensen asks, eyes flicking between Jared’s eyes and lips.

“It’s all about perception,” the older man replies, stroking Jensen’s back, “and most people have very narrow minds. Tell me something you think other people will say is bad, don’t be shy, you know I won’t judge.”

Jensen swallows, “I don’t know,” he threads his hands into Jared’s hair, “this?” he says.

Jared slides his hand from Jensen’s back down to cup his ass, pulling him forward so his cock is pressed tighter to the older man’s belly and leans in so their lips are almost touching, “This?” he whispers before taking the teen’s mouth in a deep kiss full of tongue and lust which leaves them both breathless, “Did that feel bad to you, baby boy?”

Jensen shakes his head, “No, but…”

“No buts,” Jared says, “do you want this?”

“You know I do,” the teen replies with a whine in this voice, “but other people.”

“Fuck other people,” Jared spits, “why should they take this away from us?”

“Because they wouldn’t understand?”

Jared brushes the teen’s cheek, “Am I hurting you? Am I forcing you into anything?” he asks, his cock coming to life, knowing what the answer will be because of how he’s conditioned the glorious creature in his lap.

“No, of course not," Jensen replies, quickly, “I want this.”

“I know you do, sweetheart, you asked for it, remember?” he says, reinforcing the point Jensen has already made when they kissed for the first time.

Jensen nods, “Yeah… I…” he says, lowering his eyes and blushing.

“Hey,” Jared says, lifting the teen head by his chin, “I didn’t say no did I?” Give the kid a bit of a break, he tells himself, don’t push too hard.

“True,” he replies, looking relieved, “but still, if anyone found out…”

This issue is one Jared’s familiar with handling and he just needs to play to his advantage, confident Jensen is invested enough for it to have the right impact, “The only way people would find out is for you to tell someone,” he says, some distress in his voice.

“What?” Jensen says, with alarm, “I’d never…Jared, how could you think that?”

“I’m not saying you would, sweetheart, I know you wouldn’t hurt me like that. I trust you.”

The teen gives him a long disbelieving look before frowning, deeply, “I think I’m gonna go home,” he says, shifting to try and move off Jared's lap.

“Hey,” the older man says, his stomach turning uneasily, “Jen, wait!” the teen wriggles more and Jared tightens his arms, stopping him from going anywhere, “What’s wrong?” he asks, hearing some of the panic he’s feeling enter his voice, maybe he’s misjudged this and Jensen’s seeing through his mind games.

“Let me go!” Jensen spits as his expression turns into one that the older man recognises all too well...teenage defiance.

Jared’s heart is jackrabbiting in his chest. He releases his grip and the teen is on his feet almost immediately, but the man puts his arm out so Jensen is effectively trapped although not physically restrained, “Jen, talk to me, what just happened?”

Jensen glares at him, “Move your arm, Jared,” he says, the tension in his voice is clear, “I want to go home.”

This isn’t the first teenage tantrum he’s been on the receiving end of, he knows Jensen needs to get whatever it is out of his system so with a sigh he withdraws his arm and watches the kid walk away. He hears him go up the stairs and move around the bedrooms gathering his things and in five minutes he’s back down, dressed and with his backpack on.

“Fuck!” Jared curses as Jensen heads straight for the front door, leaping up from his chair and rushing to the teen. He wants to grab him and make him explain why he’s acting like this but instead settles for putting a hand gently on his shoulder, judging that to be the better course of action, “Jensen, wait, I’m sorry, OK?”

The teen turns back to him with a hurt look on his face, “What is it you’re sorry for, huh?”

Jared frowns, completely lost, “Whatever it is that you think I did wrong,” he says, simply, because he has no idea what else to say.

“Right, of course, this is all in my head,” Jensen scoffs, “you had nothing to do with it, I suppose?”

“Alright, seriously, what the fuck?” Jared snaps, “You can’t just walk out on me without telling me why.”

Jensen’s jaw clenches and his breathing is shaky, “You don’t trust me, Jared, it wouldn’t even cross your mind that I’d be so stupid as to tell anyone if you did. I’m not an idiot, so don’t treat me like one, just leave me the fuck alone.”

He’s gone before Jared can begin to process how much he’s clearly upset the teen, “Shit!”

Chapter 6

.

Supernatural: Virgin Territory (Let Me Be Your Guide) - J2, NC-17, 4/?

2020-06-17T07:11:47Z

Saturday morning comes all too soon, he feels like he could sleep for at least a week, but he drags his ass out of bed, showers and does his usual grocery run first thing to avoid crowds and screaming kids, because seriously, do people wait until their brats are at their most annoying before they take them out in public? He pauses in the fruit aisle, holding a carton of blueberries and his mind immediately makes the jump to muffin batter, to Jensen coming in his pants in the middle of the kitchen. He’s blindingly hard in seconds, right there in the middle of the supermarket. Thankfully his shirt is long enough to give him enough cover so nobody will notice and get him thrown out. He thinks that’s it until he picks up a bag of gummy bears and remembers his first kiss with Jensen which tasted of them, and yep, there goes his cock merrily getting hard again despite where he is. He’s definitely going to take the edge off with the teen today, but tonight he’s gonna fuck whoever catches his eye first, at this point as long as they’re clean and willing he’s up for anything, because he can’t go around popping wood like he’s a friggin’ teen again, himself. He expects it from his virgins but he should have better control.

He’s putting freshly laundered sheets on his bed when the knock on the door comes, and his cock has apparently turned into one of Pavlov’s dogs because it’s already starting to chub up in anticipation of seeing Jensen before he’s even got to the door. He opens it with a smile, only to find Alan on the porch instead of Jensen, “Hey, you’re about a foot taller than the Ackles I was expecting!” he laughs, tugging his t-shirt over his crotch.

“Jared, hey,” Alan says, “he’s just helping his mom with something, I wondered if I could ask a favour?”

“Sure,” Jared replies, stepping aside to let the man in and closing the door behind him, “everything OK?”

“Yeah, well kinda,” the other man says with a pained kind of smile on his face, “I hate to ask this, Jared, you’ve been so good to us helping Jensen, it’s just…” he trails off, looking uncomfortable, “Donna thinks I shouldn’t be asking but I thought what the hell, right?”

“I can’t give you an answer until I know what the question is, man,” he replies, clapping Alan on the shoulder, “you know I’ll help if I can.”

Alan sighs, “It’s silly, really,” he says, “the thing is, it’s our anniversary today and we’re booked until a hotel and spa for the night to give Donna a break and some pampering we can’t do at home with the kids,” he blushes slightly and Jared wants to laugh that a man with two kids blushes about sex, but manages to keep it in, “Mac is already at a friend’s for the weekend and Jensen was meant to be staying with Chris but his mom just called to say he has a stomach bug, so…” he takes a breath, “I was wondering, if you don’t have plans…”

Jared does laugh, then, “Is this your long winded way of asking me to keep an eye on Jensen?”

“Would you? I don’t feel comfortable leaving him on his own, even though he thinks he’s old enough,” he says with a kind of desperate and embarrassed look, “I wouldn’t normally ask but it’s our 20th and I kinda want to make it special. Donna lost her mom around this time last year and I want to take her mind off it, even for a little while. It’d be a shame to lose the booking unless we really have to. Maybe you could check on him last thing tonight and first thing in the morning, just to make sure he’s not burned the place to the ground? I’d ask one of the other neighbours but then he’ll know he’s being checked up on and then… well, teenagers, you know? He thinks highly of you so it probably wouldn’t even cross his mind he’s being supervised!”

Jared thinks briefly about the plans he’d made for tonight, feeling more than a little frustrated, but even so there’s an opportunity, here, “I’m sorry to hear that about your mother in law." He squeezes Alan's shoulder in support, "You know... Jensen could just stay here with me. I have spare rooms and I’m pretty sure that we’d both be watching movies, reading or playing video games, anyway, we can just as easily do that together… unless that’s a problem? For you and Donna, I mean… or even Jensen for that matter...” he finishes, the words come out in a bit of a rush because of the butterflies in his stomach.

The next time Jared answers the door, Jensen is there bouncing on the balls of his feet, smiling like an idiot and gripping the straps of his backpack like it’s the only thing grounding him.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s got you smiling so much?” he asks with mock innocence as he lets the teen into the house.

“You’re a fucking genius, I couldn’t believe it when dad told me what you suggested!” Jensen replies with a huge smile, slipping his bag off his shoulders and dropping it on the ground the second the door closes behind him. Jared can tell he wants physical contact so he guides him into the kitchen where there’s more privacy, “Are you sure this is OK?” the teen asks, green eyes wide as if he’s pleading with Jared to say yes even though it was his idea.

A flicker of doubt flashes in Jared’s mind, not only because his plans have had to change, but because a part of him is a little surprised that the suggestion even came out of his mouth, “Of course,” he says, reaching out to cradle the back of the teen’s head and pull him in for a soft, sweet kiss. Mostly gentle is as far as they’ve gone with kissing and Jared has to quell his urge to make it rougher than any they’ve shared before, not to tongue fuck Jensen’s mouth or bite his lips until they’re red and swollen. Once the teen learns to kiss in that way, Jared knows he won’t be able to keep from going much further so he keeps it as tame as he can so he doesn’t push too far, too fast.

When they separate Jensen takes a deep breath, the kind he always does before he’s about to ask Jared a question, “If I’m here all night, does that mean you want to teach me lots of things at once?” he asks, looking nervous and a touch vulnerable, which always gets Jared’s blood pumping.

Jared pulls him over to the kitchen table and nods to a chair, taking the one next to him when he’s seated. He takes hold of one of his hands, the other resting halfway up the teen’s thigh, “I’d like to teach you some things, what do you class as ‘lots’, sweetheart?” He keeps his voice soft and encouraging to urge Jensen to speak and feel like he’s in control.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to…” he dips his head down and mumbles something.

“I didn’t catch that,” Jared says, “tell me again, don’t be shy.”

Jensen swallows audibly and looks up at him with a small frown on his face, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to fuck me.”

“Wow,” Jared says, a little taken aback, “uh, is that something you want to do, tonight? If it is I need you to say it, Jen.”

Jensen licks his lips and shakes his head, “Not tonight, I’m not ready…” he chews on his lip and his eyes are a little glassy, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, come on, now,” Jared says, cupping the teen’s cheek and dipping his own head so they’re eye to eye at the same height, “don’t be sorry. It’s too soon, and there’s still lots we can do before we get there. You still want that, right?”

“I do,” Jensen replies, “but I’m kinda scared,” he adds, blushing.

Jared has an odd combination of feelings. There’s definitely lust because of that blush along with knowing that Jensen still wants to learn everything Jared can teach him; and there’s a little pride that the kid told him no, outright, he likes the challenge that presents to finally guide him there. There’s more than a little relief because with how wound up he is he’s not sure he’d have the patience to go as slow as he normally does, and he realises that there’s also a little fear because he doesn’t want to hurt Jensen if he were to lose some control. He’s never hurt any of his previous treasures, never wanted to because that’s not who he is. What he tells them is true, he sees it as a privilege to take their virginity and he won’t take what he wants by force, “You’re right to be scared,” he says, smiling softly and brushing Jensen’s cheek, “it’s a big deal. We don’t have to rush, and what’s the rule? I won’t do anything…”

“Until I ask,” the teen replies, a relieved smile on his face.

“That’s right,” he smiles back, “there’s a couple of things I’d like to try but only if you say it’s OK.”

“What are they?”

“Well, mostly I’d just like to touch and kiss you,” he strokes the teen’s neck, “here,” then his shoulder and collarbone, “here”, and finally trails a finger in a zig zag pattern all across Jensen’s throat, chest and belly, “and here, but I’d really like it if I could do it without your shirt on. Would that be OK?”

“Yeah,” Jensen says a little shakily, “is that all?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Jared asks with a smirk, fairly certain the answer will be no.

“It could be, but you said a couple of things…” he leaves it open for Jared to pick up, which he does straight away.

“You pay attention,” he says with a smile, “well, I’d really like to see that cock of yours, maybe kiss you there, too.”

“Dude, you can say blow job, I know what it is!” the teen says with a huff of laughter.

“OK,” Jared nods and smirks, arousal sweeping through him at the thought of it, “I would very much like to blow you, Jen,” his voice comes out rough with lust, “call it a belated birthday present. You wanna be like most fifteen year olds on that front, don't you?”

“Duh,” he replies with a roll of his eyes, “what do you think?"

Jared can’t help but laugh from deep in his belly, “So how about it?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“How about you take me upstairs right now?” Jensen replies, shifting his hips and Jared can see he’s hard in his shorts.

“Somebody got pushy, I’m not sure I approve!” he says with a mock scowl, even as he’s leading the teen out of the room and up the stairs.

By the time Jared has kissed his way from Jensen’s lips over his neck and throat, asked again if it was OK to take his shirt off - faster than lightning the kid had removed it, as Jared knew he would - and continued down to his abs and belly Jensen is shaking and breathing heavily. Jared is sitting on the edge of his bed, legs open with the teen standing barefoot between them.

“Please,” Jensen says, his hands in Jared’s hair as the man licks over his collarbone and down his pec, “Jared, come on!”

“Mmmm,” he hums against Jensen’s skin, “what do you want, sweetheart?”

Jensen swallows, “I don’t know, just m-more.”

Jared lowers his head, hands on Jensen’s hips, angling them away from him so no part of him is touching the teen’s cock, and swirls the tip of his tongue around a soft, dusky pink nipple before licking it with the flat of his tongue, drawing a soft moan from the teen, “You like that, baby?” he says, sliding over to repeat the action with the other.

“Y-yeah,” Jensen moans, “feels good.”

Jared doubles his efforts, loving the feel of the tender flesh of the teen’s areola and the contrast of the nipple hardening to a bud under his ministrations. The breathy sounds and Jensen’s squirming is making Jared’s cock ache, “God, you're so responsive,” he says when he pulls his mouth away and replaces it with his fingers, rolling and gently tugging on the flesh. Jensen lets out an almost pained noise and his hips jerk forward, brushing against the older man’s inner thigh, “nuh uh, keep still,” he says a little more harshly, “I told you, I’ll only keep going as long as you do.”

“C-can’t help it,” Jensen replies, “s-sorry.”

“Look at me,” Jared says, waiting for the teen to blink open his lust blown eyes, “can you try for me? Just for a little longer?”

Jensen’s face is strained, “You said you’d touch me,” he pants, “and I wanna touch you.”

“Not yet,” Jared replies, shifting slightly on the bed, uncomfortable where his jeans are tight across his own hard cock, “I want you to come for me, first.”

“Then you have to touch me!” Jensen says, a pleading look in his eyes.

“We both know that’s not true,” he smirks, “you’ve done it before, so you can do it again.” Jensen blushes bright red, still evidently embarrassed he’d come from Jared sucking on his fingers and nothing more, “Hey, none of that,” he says, tracing his fingers over the heated flesh of the teen’s cheek, “you have no idea how hot that was.”

“Really?” the teen asks with a frown.

“Fuck, yeah,” Jared replies, his cock leaking at the memory of it, “only wish I could have seen it properly,” he looks down at the tent in Jensen’s shorts and reaches for the waistband, “will you take these off for me so I can see?” The teen immediately starts to push them down, “Leave the boxers on,” the older man says, earning a confused look, “just go with it. You trust me, don’t you?”

Jensen nods, frantically, “You know I do,” he says, pushing the shorts down to reveal light grey boxers with a damp patch on them from where he’s leaking, strong but slim thighs with that beautiful bow to them, and the dark blond hair on his shins catching the midday sunlight.

Unable to stop himself, Jared trails one hand over a creamy thigh, barely visible hair a little rough under his palm, then the skin getting smoother as his fingertips slip over the inside. He wants to kiss and suck at that skin, have it rub against his hips while he slides into Jensen’s tight ass, but there’ll be time for that later. He swallows and drags his eyes back up, lifting his hand to rest it on Jensen’s hip, his eyes trained on the teen’s cock where it jerks in his shorts. He can tell that it’s going to fill his mouth, nicely, already long and thick, and he groans, palming his own hardness to relieve a little pressure. He’s gonna come so long and hard, he can tell, but not yet, not before he’s made Jensen feel good.

“I want to touch you,” Jensen says, breathily, sliding his hand up Jared’s thigh.

“I said no,” Jared growls, gripping the teen’s wrist to still him.

“But I want…” Jensen says, licking his lips, “You said if I ask…”

Jared drops his head and closes his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh before looking back up at Jensen, “I know I said that, but I also said I was going to show you things first before you touch me, this is about you.” he feels a little shaky, now, partly with lust and partly because he laid out rules and he’s trying not to get angry with Jensen for wanting to break them, even though he’s never had a teen yet that followed them. He swallows and keeps his voice as even as he can, “Trust me when I say I want you to touch me, but those are my terms, Jensen, if you can’t respect that then we have to stop.”

Jensen’s eyes go wide, “No, I don’t want to stop,” he says, pulling his hand free and balling both of them at his sides, “I’m sorry, Jared, please, I can be good.”

The older man lets out a shaky breath, “Thank you,” he says, cupping Jensen’s cheek, “I don’t want to stop, either, but…” he swallows, and lets out another breath, confused about all the things he could say, so shakes his head and says none of them, instead leaning forward and kissing him, sweeping his tongue into the teen’s mouth almost straight away, licking everywhere he can and moaning when Jensen’s tongue meets his. “That’s it, baby, you’re already so good to me,” he smiles when he pulls away, brushing his thumb over Jensen’s cheek when he smiles brightly at the praise. “I have a compromise,” Jared says after a moment’s hesitation.

“What are we-” Jensen starts, then lets out a gasp when Jared spins him around, pulling him close so the teen's back against his chest.

Jared wraps an arm around Jensen’s waist, holding him tighter and rolling his hips so his cock presses into the teen’s ass cheek, “Can you feel what you do to me, Jen, how fucking hard you make me?” he moans into Jensen’s neck.

Jensen nods, “Y-yeah,” he rasps, covering Jared’s hand with his own.

“Good,” Jared growls, sliding his other hand over Jensen’s thigh, scraping his nails over the expanse of it, “you’re gonna come all over yourself for me, you got that?” Jensen moans and nods his head but doesn’t say anything. Jared shifts closer to the edge of the bed so he doesn’t have to hold the teen against him, tightening his legs around the slim hips to hold him still while he slides his hand from around Jensen's waist to his left nipple and rubs the pads of his fingers over it. He noses at the hair at the nape of Jensen’s neck, breathing in the scent from his slightly sweaty skin. He smells of an artificial sweetness, like shampoo or shower gel but underneath there’s a heady, almost woody scent that’s all Jensen and he can’t help grinding his cock into the kid’s supple ass cheek again as he draws it into his lungs.

Jensen soon begins panting heavily, his hips twitching, belly and abs quivering as Jared works his nipples, strokes his thighs and belly while he kisses and sucks on the teen’s neck. Jared’s panting, himself, his breath hitching almost in time with Jensen’s, “Are you close, baby?” he asks, hearing the whine in his own voice, desperate to make the kid fall apart in his arms.

Jensen doesn’t answer with words, he just moans and whimpers, his hips bucking wildly, now. Jared shuffles back on the bed, making room between his legs for Jensen and hauls him up, spreading the teen’s thighs open to rest over each of his own, his ass to Jared’s crotch, and hooks his chin over the teen’s sweaty shoulder.

From this angle he has a perfect view of how red and puffy Jensen’s nipples are, his tensing abs and belly, and his cock trapped in his boxers, “Do, it, sweetheart, come for me,” he says, then seals his mouth over the juncture of Jensen’s neck and shoulder, sucking hard while he pinches and tugs on the boy’s nipples. Jensen grabs hold of both of Jared’s thighs through his jeans, tenses, and cries out as Jared watches his cock jerk against cotton, soaking it completely as he comes without a hand on his dick, pained little whimpers falling from his lips, “Jesus Christ,” Jared pants after he releases the hot flesh under his mouth, feeling his own cock jerking and leaking profusely onto his boxers, “so fucking hot, so good for me, sweetheart,” he croons into Jensen’s ear as he shudders through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Jared lets him catch his breath a little before he flops them both back on the bed, letting Jensen’s head rest on his chest, loving the weight of the teen’s limp body on top of him, heavy enough to feel the pressure of his weight crushing him, slightly, but light enough that he can manhandle the teen how he wants him. When Jensen’s breath has evened out a little, Jared tightens the arm he has around the boy’s waist lifts him slightly as he shuffles his own body out from under him. He immediately straddles the teen’s hips, takes one sweaty hand in his own and cups his jaw with the other before pressing a heated kiss to his swollen lips. He feels like he wants to devour the teen, he’s so pleased with how it went, Jensen following his instructions and moaning just right. He pulls back for air and looks down at Jensen’s flushed, sweaty face, flashing a dazed and lazy smile at the man.

“Did I do good?” Jensen slurs.

“Better than good, perfect, sweetheart,” Jared says, completely sincere, “came so pretty for me!” Jensen’s smile is blinding and the older man’s heart beats faster, “You’re not finished, yet, though.”

“What?” the teen replies, confusion clear on his face.

Jared can’t help teasing, so he says nothing, just sits back on his heels and pulls his t-shirt off, watching Jensen watch him. Next he unbuckles his belt and pulls it out of the loops, flinging it across the room before unzipping his jeans. He slides off the bed to push them down, kicking them off. He leaves his boxers on, smirking at the teen’s look of disappointment. His cock jerks as he looks down at Jensen’s soaked boxers, seeing the evidence of the boy’s pleasure, his still half hard cock clearly outlined by the soggy fabric. He leans down and puts his hands on the waistband then looks into bright green eyes, “Can I take these off?”

Jensen looks uncertain, “I need a shower,” he says, “I’m gross.”

Jared huffs out a laugh, “No you’re not, let me see,” he starts to tug the fabric down as far as the teen’s hips but no further, “please?” Jensen blushes, deeply, but nods, and Jared wastes no time carefully sliding the shorts down, keeping his gaze on Jensen's thighs as he does, watching the muscles bunch and relax as he pushes his hips up so the shorts can be pulled off. Jared drops them onto his jeans which are already wet with his own pre-come so he’s not concerned about dirtying them up, “Move up the bed,” he says, even as he reaches out to tuck a hand behind Jensen’s knee, encouraging him to open his legs.

Jensen scrambles to do as he’s asked and Jared’s pulse gets quicker, “What are you going to do?” he asks in a small voice.

Jared looks into his eyes, then, seeing the nervous look, “I’m going to blow you like I said I would,” he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The teen’s eyes widen, “But I’m all dirty…”

Jared smiles, “So I’ll clean you up,” he says, “then you’re gonna come again, this time in my mouth.” Jensen blushes beetroot and opens his mouth to say something but closes it again when Jared raises an eyebrow, “You can tell me to stop at any time, but you have to say it loud and clear, OK?” he says as he strokes the teen’s thighs. Jensen nods but still doesn’t speak, “Good boy,” Jared winks, finally looking down at the boy’s naked cock for the first time and letting out a moan, “Jesus, look at you,” he says, seeing that he was right, it’s long and thick, a good size for his age and the perfect mouthful.

He leans down and breathes in the teen’s scent, rich and musky. He puts both hands on Jensen’s thighs, determined not to touch the kid’s cock with his hands, and slowly drags his tongue over the teen’s happy trail, taking in the flavour of his skin as well as the first traces of the boy’s come. It’s salty sweet and already Jared’s addicted, sweeping his tongue out for more, kissing the teen’s belly when he’s done. He moans as he slowly cleans come off all the skin he can reach before shuffling down and licking the base of Jensen’s cock, turning his head sideways and running his lips up the length of it, pleased at the gasps and moans his mouth is causing Jensen to let out. He repeats the action in a different position, soaking in the teen’s flavour until he finally reaches the head. He gently licks at it, knowing he has to be still quite sensitive, but is clearly enjoying it because it’s twitching weakly, trying to get ready to play again.

Before the teen can get any harder he quickly moves back down, laving his tongue over Jensen’s balls, pushing his legs wide and up, dipping lower, flicking his tongue over the teen’s hole three times, just enough to tease, holding him still when his hips buck and he cries out at the sensation. Jared lifts his head, smirking up at his lover, “Prop yourself up, baby, gonna want to see your face when you come.”

He waits somewhat patiently as Jensen gulps down air, looking dazed as he plumps the pillows behind him then drops down to rest on his elbows, “I don’t know if I can come again, yet!” he pants.

Jared feels a surge of heat through his body, a combination of lust and anger, “You can and you will,” he says, firmly. Jensen blinks at him with a small frown, presumably at his tone. He kisses Jensen’s thigh and looks back up at him, “I’ll make sure of, sweetheart.” he smiles, encouragingly.

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? No,” he quickly kneels up and leans down to slide his hand in Jensen’s hair and take his lips in a kiss, “I’m sorry, it’s just frustration…” he pauses, feeling a little embarrassed, “you make me so fucking hot, I’m dying here, kiddo. I feel like I’ve been hard forever!” he huffs out a laugh at his own expense. He sits back on his heels and gestures to his crotch, cupping and gently squeezing his balls, moaning at the sensation before he stretches the pale blue cotton of his boxers over himself, “See how full they are just for you? I really need to come, but I wanna make you feel good again first.”

Jensen’s eyes go wide, “Doesn’t that hurt? I’ve never been hard for that long,” he says, blushing again.

Jared smiles, fondly, “You’ll find out, soon enough.”

“That didn’t answer my question…oh fuck,” he gasps as Jared’s mouth engulfs his whole cock and sucks.

The older man can’t help but smile, even with his mouth full. He flicks his eyes back up to Jensen and winks, before sliding his lips all the way up to the head, feeling the kid’s cock lengthen and thicken on his tongue. He moans as his lips slide back down to the base, the taste and smell of the teen making his own solid cock ache and leak even more. He bobs his head, tonguing under the tip of Jensen’s cock then lightly scraping his teeth down the shaft on the way back down. Jensen lets out a sound that’s a hybrid of a hiss and moan, and threads his hand into Jared’s hair, tugging slightly when the older man works his way back up and sucks hard on the head, rewarded by a louder moan and a spurt of pre-come on his tongue.

Jensen’s panting and sweating, the muscles of his belly and abs tensing and releasing, “Jared,” he whines, “God, I'm close.”

Jared raises his head again, repositioning himself so his hands are on the bed either side of Jensen’s hips, “Just let go, baby,” he says, voice rough with lust, “do what feels natural, fuck my mouth,” he says before quickly descending on the teen’s gorgeous cock once again.

Jensen’s other hand scrambles over the sheets while the one is Jared’s hair clenches, his hips bucking uncontrollably as the older man bobs up and down, his own pulse racing as he watches the teen’s eyes roll back in his head and his lips wide open as Jared’s mouth is flooded with hot, salty sweet come. It’s thinner than his own and he moans happily as he swallows it all down, watching the almost pained look on Jensen’s face as he does, gently sucking until every drop is gone.

When the teen collapses on the bed he pulls off and scrambles up to kiss him, not able to stop from fucking Jensen’s mouth with his tongue and groaning as he wraps his hand around his own cock. Jensen pushes him away with a gentle hand on his shoulder, gasping for breath. Quickly the older man kneels up and pulls his cock out of the slit in his boxers, his fist tight around his aching, slick length, groaning loudly, “Jen...,” he pants, fucking into his fist, his whole body burning up and tingling, “gimme your hand, now, fuck,” he grits out.

The teen looks up at him groggily but raises his arm. Jared takes his hand and covers his own with it, the teen still not touching his actual cock, and picks up the pace. He can’t help the choked sound that comes from his throat as Jensen’s hand tightens, almost guiding his own larger one in a steady rhythm. Through the thundering pulse in his ears he can hear himself grunting and groaning, saying Jensen’s name until finally the pressure is released and he comes harder than he has in a long, long time, feeling lightheaded with it.

He manages to open his heavy eyes to see Jensen looking at him in awe. His face and neck are flushed and sweaty, his belly and chest covered in streak after streak of Jared’s come and it’s such a beautiful sight Jared’s chest aches. He lets himself flop down on his back next to Jensen and with what strength he has left, he hauls the teen onto his chest and kisses him, lazily.

“We’re so doing that again!” Jensen says.

Jared huffs out a laugh, “That and more, baby boy, so much more.”

Chapter 5

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