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Boy, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatual
Title: Boy
Pairing: John/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 910
Summary: Dean gets himself in a bit of a bind, and it gives John a few ideas.
A/Ns & Warnings: Offered up to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladykatiewench in honor of her birthday (which is tomorrow). Now, I don't write John/Dean for just anyone, my dear. Consider yourself special. LOL. Warnings Daddy!cest, read the pairings people. If it ain't your thing, keep on trucking, established sexual relationship.
“You think this is funny, don’t you?” Dean asked, trying to keep the squeak out of his voice. He watched his father circle around him.
“Well, Son. You were caught by a girl.” He was behind Dean now, where he couldn’t see his face. But Dean didn’t need to see his father’s face to know he was grinning. “Caught, trussed up and stripped naked.”
Okay, that much was true. He only hoped his father didn’t know the rest.
There was a gloved hand on his back, hot. “Just cut me down.”
“Hold your horses, I’m looking.”
Dean was squatting, on his toes, his hands tied behind his back, then the ropes went up over the beams of the old house. His knees were tied and pulled out, exposing him. Whatever was in the cocktail she’d used to knock him out, he’d come to with a hard on that could have drilled holes in concrete.
She’d used him like a freaking toy, rubbing her naked body all over his before backing up to his cock and fucking herself on him repeatedly. It had been incredible…at first. Until he realized she was coming repeatedly, and he didn’t…couldn’t. He’d passed out while she was still squealing.
And when he’d come to a second time, he was still hard, still tied up and she was gone.
“You do realize you stink like sex.” His father’s voice was dark, quiet. He spoke in Dean’s ear, his body close. It was a voice Dean only ever heard when things between them went places they really never should. “She use you, boy?”
Dean swallowed. His father wouldn’t. He shook his head. Not like this.
“Dad?”
“Never thought about tying you up.” He was in Dean’s other ear this time. His voice growling and low. His hand moved over Dean’s skin. His gloved hand. There were lots of things that were fucked up between them. Lots. The sex thing? That was just one.
The gloved hand moved down, over his naked ass, up through his crack, one finger pressing against his hole. Dean hopped a little, suddenly worried that this was more than just playing. That maybe there was some…thing…
“Dad?” His voice cracked as he turned his head trying to find his father.
The only noise Dean heard in response was a zipper. “Dad?”
Dean huffed and tried to prepare himself. They hadn’t touched in days, weeks even. It was always an after hunt thing…a rush of adrenaline, a push and shove and reminders that they were still alive. His father never was one to play games.
He murmured “Christo,” and heard his father chuckle.
“Nobody here but you and me, boy.” His gloved hands were back on Dean’s ass, one finger pushing into him. He manipulated the ropes and Dean was pitched forward a little more, his ass pushed up at his father. The thick leather of the glove pressed against him, rubbing inside him until Dean moaned, his cock twitching.
“Fuck.” He gasped as the finger withdrew and the head of his father’s cock replaced it, no lube but his spit. Dean panted, groaned.
“Easy now.” His father pulled back, adjusted his angle and pushed in again. Dean huffed, exhaling and trying to will himself to relax. His father thrust forward, rocking Dean forward too. Dean’s body convulsed as he came, spilling out onto the floor. Behind him, his father chuckled. “That’s my boy.”
“Fuck.” Dean’s cock wasn’t showing any signs of giving in as his father settled into a pace, rocking Dean forward and back, his hands on Dean’s hips, using the ropes to swing him into each stroke. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Dean’s voice was getting louder as their speed increased and his cock throbbed.
His father grunted with the effort, thrusting into him harder and faster, then grabbing Dean’s hips and pulling Dean onto him as he came. He jerked up into Dean a few times, then withdrew. Dean could feel hot come leaking out of him.
His own cock was throbbing, aching for touch. His father’s hands were on his, even as he panted and Dean heard the sound of knife. “Let’s get you down.”
He pitched forward as the rope was cut, his cock slamming into the wood floor. It was enough to set him off and Dean collapsed as he came. His father cut through the ropes that bound his hands and eased Dean back onto his now sore ass so that he could reach the ones that bound his legs.
“You alright?”
Dean looked up at his father, cradling his aching dick and nodded tightly. “What the hell?”
John grinned at him. “Couldn’t help it. You looked so…hot.” He took off his jacket and handed it to Dean. “Car’s a ways down.”
Dean wrapped the jacket around himself as he stood. Hot. His father had lost his mind. “How far?”
“About a mile.”
Dean shook his head. “Maybe you should walk ahead of me then. Wouldn’t want you getting any more ideas.”
His father pulled on the rope and it came loose from the rafters. “Already way ahead of you, boy.” Dean looked back to find his father coiling the rope around his arm.
There was something dark in the way his father said “boy” and it made Dean shiver. Come was oozing down his leg. “Maybe we should find this girl.” John slung an arm around Dean’s waist and turned him toward the door. “And say thank you.”
Title: Boy
Pairing: John/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 910
Summary: Dean gets himself in a bit of a bind, and it gives John a few ideas.
A/Ns & Warnings: Offered up to
ladykatiewench in honor of her birthday (which is tomorrow). Now, I don't write John/Dean for just anyone, my dear. Consider yourself special. LOL. Warnings Daddy!cest, read the pairings people. If it ain't your thing, keep on trucking, established sexual relationship.“You think this is funny, don’t you?” Dean asked, trying to keep the squeak out of his voice. He watched his father circle around him.
“Well, Son. You were caught by a girl.” He was behind Dean now, where he couldn’t see his face. But Dean didn’t need to see his father’s face to know he was grinning. “Caught, trussed up and stripped naked.”
Okay, that much was true. He only hoped his father didn’t know the rest.
There was a gloved hand on his back, hot. “Just cut me down.”
“Hold your horses, I’m looking.”
Dean was squatting, on his toes, his hands tied behind his back, then the ropes went up over the beams of the old house. His knees were tied and pulled out, exposing him. Whatever was in the cocktail she’d used to knock him out, he’d come to with a hard on that could have drilled holes in concrete.
She’d used him like a freaking toy, rubbing her naked body all over his before backing up to his cock and fucking herself on him repeatedly. It had been incredible…at first. Until he realized she was coming repeatedly, and he didn’t…couldn’t. He’d passed out while she was still squealing.
And when he’d come to a second time, he was still hard, still tied up and she was gone.
“You do realize you stink like sex.” His father’s voice was dark, quiet. He spoke in Dean’s ear, his body close. It was a voice Dean only ever heard when things between them went places they really never should. “She use you, boy?”
Dean swallowed. His father wouldn’t. He shook his head. Not like this.
“Dad?”
“Never thought about tying you up.” He was in Dean’s other ear this time. His voice growling and low. His hand moved over Dean’s skin. His gloved hand. There were lots of things that were fucked up between them. Lots. The sex thing? That was just one.
The gloved hand moved down, over his naked ass, up through his crack, one finger pressing against his hole. Dean hopped a little, suddenly worried that this was more than just playing. That maybe there was some…thing…
“Dad?” His voice cracked as he turned his head trying to find his father.
The only noise Dean heard in response was a zipper. “Dad?”
Dean huffed and tried to prepare himself. They hadn’t touched in days, weeks even. It was always an after hunt thing…a rush of adrenaline, a push and shove and reminders that they were still alive. His father never was one to play games.
He murmured “Christo,” and heard his father chuckle.
“Nobody here but you and me, boy.” His gloved hands were back on Dean’s ass, one finger pushing into him. He manipulated the ropes and Dean was pitched forward a little more, his ass pushed up at his father. The thick leather of the glove pressed against him, rubbing inside him until Dean moaned, his cock twitching.
“Fuck.” He gasped as the finger withdrew and the head of his father’s cock replaced it, no lube but his spit. Dean panted, groaned.
“Easy now.” His father pulled back, adjusted his angle and pushed in again. Dean huffed, exhaling and trying to will himself to relax. His father thrust forward, rocking Dean forward too. Dean’s body convulsed as he came, spilling out onto the floor. Behind him, his father chuckled. “That’s my boy.”
“Fuck.” Dean’s cock wasn’t showing any signs of giving in as his father settled into a pace, rocking Dean forward and back, his hands on Dean’s hips, using the ropes to swing him into each stroke. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Dean’s voice was getting louder as their speed increased and his cock throbbed.
His father grunted with the effort, thrusting into him harder and faster, then grabbing Dean’s hips and pulling Dean onto him as he came. He jerked up into Dean a few times, then withdrew. Dean could feel hot come leaking out of him.
His own cock was throbbing, aching for touch. His father’s hands were on his, even as he panted and Dean heard the sound of knife. “Let’s get you down.”
He pitched forward as the rope was cut, his cock slamming into the wood floor. It was enough to set him off and Dean collapsed as he came. His father cut through the ropes that bound his hands and eased Dean back onto his now sore ass so that he could reach the ones that bound his legs.
“You alright?”
Dean looked up at his father, cradling his aching dick and nodded tightly. “What the hell?”
John grinned at him. “Couldn’t help it. You looked so…hot.” He took off his jacket and handed it to Dean. “Car’s a ways down.”
Dean wrapped the jacket around himself as he stood. Hot. His father had lost his mind. “How far?”
“About a mile.”
Dean shook his head. “Maybe you should walk ahead of me then. Wouldn’t want you getting any more ideas.”
His father pulled on the rope and it came loose from the rafters. “Already way ahead of you, boy.” Dean looked back to find his father coiling the rope around his arm.
There was something dark in the way his father said “boy” and it made Dean shiver. Come was oozing down his leg. “Maybe we should find this girl.” John slung an arm around Dean’s waist and turned him toward the door. “And say thank you.”