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Dean couldn’t help but to take a moment to stare into the familiar whiskey-brown eyes of his soon-to-be lover as he pushed his lean frame up against the wall of the dingy motel room. The young man in front of him was a complete and total stranger to Dean, while simultaneously being the man he knew best in the entire world. One who had molded him with unforgivingly calloused hands, shaped him through brutally rigorous discipline, and forged him in the blistering heat of battle. Dean continued to assess the softly panting figure, how his fluttering eyelids drew attention to his thick, dark eyelashes that any woman would easily be willing to spend a small fortune on cosmetics in order to be able to attain the stellar result that this boy simply possessed, and then proceeded to flaunt for his maximum benefit. Those sinfully full and pouty lips that were simply begging to be used for any act of debauchery that might be suggested, that left Dean with a twitching cock as he watched as a soft, pink tongue darted out and wet them, suppressing a heartfelt groan as his thoughts quickly fell into the gutter as he fantasized about the inevitable conclusion of that action.
Whatever the fuck that crazy witch had done to him, it had strapped him into one wild ride, with no emergency handle to pull when he wanted off. Dean chuckled low and dirty as he realized that he was most definitely gonna get off, probably several times truth be told, because the thought of fulfilling his life-long fantasy of having John Motherfucking Winchester held down under him as he was frantically begging and pleading for every depraved thing that Dean might be willing to give him, even if it wasn’t the one that he had known almost as well as he knew himself, well, it was just too irresistible to let the opportunity pass him by. Especially since this young, tall drink of water seemed to have his very own daddy issues that he was quite obviously trying to work through. John hadn’t been subtle when his eyes had roamed over Dean’s body, not that John even knew who he had been checking out at the dive bar. No, this John was just a young marine back from the war, still only twenty-two years old, hadn’t even met Mary yet, hadn’t even contemplated what might come along a few years down the road of life.
Dean really leaned into the firm body that was trapped between him and the dirty wallpaper, let John feel his hard cock as it dug into his lean hip, could see how John was fascinated by the crinkles around his eyes, knowing that it must remind him of Henry, at least to a certain extent, especially with the way that Dean was dressed up in his Fed threads. Dean had come into the bar, straight out of an interview for his latest case when he had caught sight of John, who had of course not recognized his future child at all. Currently, Dean was a few years older than Henry would’ve been when he disappeared on John late one night, never to be seen again. Dean knew how his grandfather had stumbled through a motel door and ended up in 2014, on his own quest to find his lost child, knew how Henry had sacrificed himself and died trying to save Sam and Dean from Abaddon.
Dean buried his stubble-covered face in the side of his father’s slender throat for just a moment, felt the trembling shiver course through John as Dean’s wet tongue traced along his jugular, while he tried to decide if he should tell this John what he knew, or if he should leave well enough alone. The damage had been done several years prior and bringing it up now could alter this John’s future while destroying Dean’s past. He had already tried to do that with Mary, warn her so that she wouldn’t get up that night and absolutely nothing had changed. She had still gone into the nursery, and all the hell that had followed had proven to be unavoidable.
Dean felt his father’s long fingers curling around his narrow hips, heard the soft whimper at the back of John’s throat as he drew in one harsh breath after another, and Dean knew that this would be a night that he long cherished. He raised his calloused fingers and gently stroked over a lean cheek, before he slid one finger between the slightly parted full lips that he had never been able to sample, not like this. John had always made Dean beg, always made him prove that he had earned one of his father’s kisses, well, that fucking shit was so done. Dean smirked as he leaned in closer, just before his tongue flicked out and ran across John’s quivering bottom lip, as he purred out, “You like that? Huh?”
A hard swallow, whiskey-brown eyes that were darting every which way but towards Dean, and a whimpering sigh was his only response. A slim leg was pressed between Dean’s own muscled thighs, as John sought friction for his rapidly swelling cock. Dean chuckled as he canted his hips back, denying his father the small satisfaction. “Uh, uh, uh, John. I think I need some attention first.” Dean looked down at the erection that was getting strangled inside his suit pants, lust filled eyes flying back up at the shaky groan, and then watched as John fell to his knees like he did this kind of a thing for a living. Long fingers moving up to work open the soft leather belt, pulling it free from the beltloops, not caring where it fell, only shivering as the loud clank of the metal sounded as it hit the floor. John looked up then, meeting the emerald-green eyes that were crinkling around the corners, as a wicked smile curved into the sinfully plush lips that had been used so many times in the past, but not tonight. No, it was John’s turn tonight, and Dean was going to savor every last goddamned moment of the show. “What are you waiting for?” Dean watched as the shudder raced up the gracefully curved back, as a slight blush colored his father’s cheeks, before his zipper was being lowered, and his thick cock was finally being freed.
Dean couldn’t help but to savor this delicious moment, as his father’s full lips parted, and his sleek tongue licked up the precome that had gathered in the slit of Dean’s cock. Watched as those dark cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red, as his eyes fluttered closed, and then Dean was being swallowed down, engulfed in a wet heat that he had never once experienced. Could feel as John’s tongue licked over him, hitting the bundle of nerves just under the head of his cock, noted how John drew him all the way in without so much as a hint of a gag reflex being activated. Dean felt his fingers threading through the short dark hair on the head that was bobbing on his cock, helping to guide him, just as John had always done to Dean. “Whose Daddy’s good little boy?” was always growled out in that gravel-rough voice when Dean managed to do everything just right.
It came as quite a shock just how accomplished John was, as Dean was getting dangerously close to spilling down his father’s tight throat in almost no time at all. But as much as he wanted to do that, there was one thing that he wanted even more. Because while the blow job that John was giving him felt spectacularly amazing and was causing his toes to curl in his fancy black boots, there was one act that he fucking needed to do, or he would kick himself everyday for the rest of his life for squandering this opportunity.
Dean tightened his grip in the dark hair that he had never once been allowed to thread his fingers through as he thrust his hips forward, burying his cock in the back of John’s incredibly pliant throat, felt the slim fingers tighten on his hips for an instant, knew John was wondering if Dean was going to let him get any air, knowing there was not a damn thing he could do to stop Dean. As he felt John begin to relax, give over to the powerful man in front of him, Dean pulled out completely. Took his rock-hard cock in his hand and traced the angry red tip over those glorious cheekbones, painting a trail of spit and come before his whiskey-rough voice instructed, “Be a good little boy for Daddy. On the bed. Ass up.” Dean watched the convulsive swallow that wracked John’s throat, heard the strangled whimper that he couldn’t hope to contain, and knew that he was going to use this night as fodder every single time he jerked off for the rest of his goddamned life.
John didn’t look away as he placed a singularly sloppy kiss on the head of Dean’s cock before he rose to his feet, beginning to quickly strip out of his clothes as he walked over to the bed. Dean shrugged out of his suit jacket, tie, dress shirt, and then toed out of his shoes as he watched all of that perfect skin get slowly revealed to him. No scars from a rampaging werewolf, no claw marks from a pissed-off wendigo, and no teeth marks from a rampaging Skinwalker marred John’s perfect skin. It was just as flawless as the day he had been born, and Dean knew, absolutely knew, that he was going to be the one to mark it the fuck up. With the greatest of pleasure, he would leave an indelible mark on the man that had helped to turn Dean into the fucked-up bastard that he was today.
John had pulled off his baggy boxer shorts last, and Dean had to admire the truly magnificent ass that he was going to spend the next few hours absolutely wrecking. Just working it over until John couldn’t even remember his own goddamned name. Dean smiled eagerly then, as he thought back to the many times that John had done the same to him, insisting that Dean had the better end of the arrangement, since John was generous enough to always hit his prostate with every single fucking stroke whenever they had gotten up to such activities. Dean watched as John gave him one last longingly lust-filled look before he crawled up on the bed, not stopping until his head was pillowed on his crossed arms, and his ass was all the way up, ready and waiting for whatever Dean decided to do to it.
Dean grabbed the lube and made his way to the bed, where his usually very hard assed ex-marine father was dutifully waiting for him. But it had never been like this before. Dean was always the one that was going to be getting railed, being used excessively rough. Granted, he had loved every single fucking minute of it, but every now and again he wouldn’t have minded being the one that got to fuck into a supremely exquisite ass, just to break up the monotony. Well today was sure as fuck that day, and Dean was going to relish every goddamned second of his time on top. “Spread ‘em.” He watched as John shifted, opening his legs even wider, not that they really needed to be, but it was just so goddamn intoxicating to see John obey his every softly uttered command.
Dean lubed up his fingers, and then began to massage the soft pink pucker that had always been kept hidden away from him. He kneaded John’s firm globes for a minute, as his thick fingers continued to work his father’s ass open, so slowly, knowing that the impatience of youth was working against John. He remembered how he had always thought that John had been trying to torture him when he wouldn’t just hurry up and fuck him already. A wicked grin crossed his face for a moment before he decided to ramp up the torment. “Come on, John. Use your hands. Think I want to be back here all day?” Dean had to swallow down his chuckle as John’s arms unfolded, and then long fingers were grasping his own ass cheeks and wrenching them apart. Digging in, probably hard enough to leave bruises, truth be told. Dean sighed deeply then, feeling rather impatient as he waited for his turn to add some marks of his own to all of that gloriously naked flesh.
John gasped out a strangled cry when Dean used a bit more force than was strictly necessary, and finally shoved in two thick fingers at once, sliding up the covers a bit, before he straightened his spine, and pushed himself back into position. Dean squeezed out some more lube, before he slid his fingers back in, scissoring them in-between careful pumps, noting how John shivered uncontrollably every single time Dean pushed in until he could go no further. Dean continued to tease John, slowly prepping him, while he used his other hand to massage the tight rim that needed to be coaxed into opening. Knowing that he wasn’t going to hold back in any way, shape, or form once he got going. “That the best you can do for Daddy?” Dean watched as the long fingers shifted, as his father’s middle fingers hooked into his own asshole, and fucking pulled like his goddamned life depended on it.
Dean had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself after that incredible sight, and slid one of his own thumbs in, just to help out. Hearing John’s broken moans, feeling the shivering trembles that worked their way through his lean frame, knowing that he couldn’t afford to squander this incredible gift. Dean eased up then, grabbed the lube and generously applied another coat, both to John’s already glistening ass, and to Dean’s aching cock. Dean didn’t even give a moment’s thought to using a condom, knowing that Castiel could always use his angelic healing to fix Dean, and judging by how tight John was, Dean was pretty sure this wasn’t something that John had engaged in often. Maybe even never before his own fully grown son had appeared straight out of the distant future and proceeded to smooth talk his way into this mind-blowing encounter. Dean had to laugh at the odds that John could have ever thought that all of the talents and skills that he had spent a lifetime teaching to his oldest child would culminate with him being thoroughly fucked out as a result of it all. “Have you been a good boy? Have you earned Daddy’s cock?”
Dean heard the muffled groan before John raised his head up and responded, “Yes, Daddy. Please, Daddy. Fuck me so good, Daddy.” And Jesus Fucking Christ on a goddamned stick, if that didn’t just do so many achingly wicked things to Dean.
Like a junkie who had been denied for far too long, Dean commanded again, whiskey-rough voice growling out, “Ask Daddy nicely.” In the moment that it took for John to draw in a breath and begin to respond, Dean knew he would never be able to duplicate the incredible high that was coursing through his system, making him feel alive in a way that he had rarely ever experienced. His toes were curling against the bedspread as John’s fervent response flowed over him, “Please, Daddy. Please, fuck me with your big fat cock. Please, make me come screaming. Please!”
Nothing in any of the multitude of universes that Chuck had created could have stopped Dean from complying with that heartfelt request. He fed his rock-hard cock into the gaping hole that was impatiently winking at him in one long shove, relished the gasping cry that was ripped out of John’s quivering mouth, his own eyes were rolling all the fucking way back in his head as he was held tight by the taut velvet clench, his large hands were now digging savagely into his father’s narrow hips, promising himself that he would leave finger shaped bruises that would last for at least a fucking month if it was the last thing he ever did. Noting the shudder that wracked the body he had just begun to plunder, felt the strong hands move up to cover his own, as if John needed to receive the bruises just as urgently as Dean needed to give them.
Dean carefully rolled his hips, felt the fluttering channel clench down as he buried himself even deeper, before he slowly withdrew, stopping when just the head of his fat cock was still being clung to so desperately by his father’s straining hole. Dean shifted his gaze down, wanting to always be able to remember this moment, and then he was driving in with his hips, as he pulled back with his hands, and John was mewling out one shattered cry after another as Dean found his motherfucking rhythm, and began to plunder what he had always craved, with every single fiber of his morally questionable and utterly debauched being.
Dean fucked into John with an unrelenting drive, simply pounding into the incredibly willing flesh, over and over and fucking over again. Not stopping, not easing up, simply ravaging his father’s more than likely virgin hole. John was wailing now, gasping out cries, his entire body tensing, but not quite arriving at his sought-after goal. Dean changed the angle of his hips, felt John stiffen beneath him, felt a trembling hand begin to slide lower. “Come on my cock or don’t come at all.” Dean gritted his teeth as his harsh command fell into the near silence of the room, the only other sounds were John’s ragged moans, and the sound of skin slapping skin, as Dean drove into his father’s insatiable flesh ceaselessly.
Dean could feel the change, as John’s ass clenched and gripped his rock-hard cock tighter, as his quivering form began to drive back against Dean as his hips slammed forward, and finally, John’s obscenely stretched asshole clutched Dean with such exquisite force that it ripped his release out of him at the same time that John’s come was being sprayed across the bedspread. Dean slammed into his father a few more times, watching as a dribble of his come squelched back out, before he collapsed over John’s back, driving them both down into the messy covers, knowing that John’s cock was still helplessly pulsing out a steady stream, as Dean continued to fill his dear father’s ass. Grinding down with his hips one last time before he finally went limp and tried to remember how to breathe.
It took a few minutes before either one of them could even think about moving, and then John was turning over, and curling closer to Dean, tucking his head into the hollow of Dean’s throat, and then Dean heard it, the husky whisper, “Thank you, Daddy.” The gentle kiss that was pressed to his still rapidly expanding chest was what threw him for the loop though and it was all Dean could do to not react to it. But then wiry arms were wrapping around him, and all Dean wanted to do was take a damn nap. At least thirty minutes, and then they could go for round two, and maybe then Dean would get to feel what it was like to spill down John’s tight throat.
Dean smiled to himself, as he could already hear John’s breath as it evened out, knowing that he had already surrendered to some much-needed sleep after his forty-one-year-old child that hadn’t even been conceived in John’s actual time, had just railed his ass to within an inch of its life. How Dean had helped to turn John towards what Dean would come to accept as his father’s normal proclivities. So that when John had brought them together for the very first time when Dean was the younger of the two, he would be reliving an experience from his youth, with a mysterious older man who had given him an unforgettable experience to treasure for as long as he lived.
Dean swallowed hard, before he pulled John in just that much closer to press against a body that had grown up knowing his touch, and softly whispered into the shell of his father’s delicate ear, “Love you too, Dad.”
Dean thought for a moment, knew that he needed to get his priorities straight. Decided that yeah, he should nap first. Then use John’s mouth for round two. Probably his ass again for round three. And hopefully both on round four. It all just depended on how talented John truly was. Then, once that was done, he needed to figure out how to break the witch’s spell. Because seriously, if Dean didn’t then Sam would, and there was no way in hell that Dean was explaining this fucked up scenario to Sam. This was his little secret. One that he would hold close to his warped and twisted heart so that he could treasure it always.
Just like Daddy’s good little boy should.
So, yeah, a nap. Then more debauchery. Just the way that John had always liked it.
The End???