(no subject)
Title:Rough'n'Ready
Pairing: John/Dean
Rating: NC:17, PWP with a mildly thinky aftertaste
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters and make no money from this. Also, this is my very first porn, so be kind. Blame hans, it’s her fault. feedback is always appreciated.
Now with two bonus companion pieces: Reaching Backwards and Keep Your Feet On the Ground.
***
1.
The first time, they’re in Rough’n’Ready, California, driven inside by a late summer squall dumping unexpectedly down. John sits heavily on the bed with his shirt draped over his knees, inspecting the bruises on his ribs from their last hunt. Dean stands by the window, fingertips pressed against the glass, watching the rain. The room is silent, the TV dead. They haven’t said a word to each other for over an hour.
John’s not entirely surprised when Dean crosses the room, takes the shirt and drops it on the floor. Dean opens his mouth but just as quickly shuts it again, dropping his gaze and quirking a half-smile at John instead. John would be lying if he said he hadn’t been waiting for something to happen, been feeling the tension building in the air like ozone.
Dean sinks to his knees, his eyes flickering up again as he thumbs his father’s jeans open. John watches the steady drip of water spreading across Dean’s shoulders, runs a hand through his sons soaking hair. Dean tugs his pants down, lets them puddle on the ground. He leans in, faster than John thought he would, nipping the sensitive skin at crook of John’s inner thigh. John sucks in a breath, and Dean takes that for a go-ahead, lapping at the soft underside of his balls. His vision goes white when Dean rolls his tongue around the head of his cock before sliding his lips down the shaft.
John can distantly feel fingers digging into his knees. He’s braced on his elbows against the bed, his chest shuddering. Dean slides a spit slick hand to wrap around the base of his cock, his cheeks hollowing as he slowly slides his mouth up and down the length of him.
John pushes himself off his elbows. Dean glances up, his pupils blown and eyes mischievous. John has a sudden moment of clarity, realizes my son has had a dick in his mouth before, wonders absurdly when that happened, and whose.
He pushes Dean off slowly. Dean looks wide-eyed up at him, still so close that a thin trail of spit and precome trails from his lips to John’s glistening cock. All he wants to do is fuck into that mouth again and again until they’re both raw and exhausted.
He leans forward, cups Dean’s cheek in hand and kisses the top of his son’s head. His lips come away wet with rain and sweat, and he licks the taste off his lips before lying back again. Dean gets into his own bed without a word.
2.
The night after they’re in the next state over at Steptoe, Nevada. They’ve abandoned all pretense at staying in one place these days, two gleaming black bodies roaring across the roads like an eternal game of keep-away. Dean tries again, and John lets him because he couldn’t remember the last time it’d been someone else. It’s fast and messy in the narrow bathroom, and both come out bruised.
3.
Halfway across the country from where they started, Dean has both hands braced against the headboard, his thighs tense on top of John’s. One of John’s hands is cupping his son’s foot, thumb pressed along the sole. The other is splayed flat against Dean’s chest, pulling him back against John. He rocks his hips into Dean, sending sparks chasing themselves from balls to brain, glad for the first time that his son is so much smaller.
John shifts, curls his hand around Dean’s cheek, turns his son’s head as best he can to see his eyes. He gulps to catch his breath a few times before he trusts himself to speak, breathing hot into the other man’s ear.
“Dean. Why are you doing this?”
Dean makes a questing noise low in his throat, and flicks his gaze away. His eyes are lidded and fucked out, and he nuzzles blindly along John’s jaw before capturing the other man’s tongue with his own, licking into his mouth; it’s the first time Dean’s tried to kiss him since he was much, much younger. John thrusts again, harder, sends them both tumbling. Dean comes with a sharp cry on hands and knees, into his own cupped hand. It sends John spilling over the edge, biting hard on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean jerks away, but John holds them steady until the afterquakes subside and they collapse spent on the bed.
Dean moves to roll out of bed, but John catches his chin between two fingers before he gets very far. “You didn’t answer my question, kid.”
Pairing: John/Dean
Rating: NC:17, PWP with a mildly thinky aftertaste
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters and make no money from this. Also, this is my very first porn, so be kind. Blame hans, it’s her fault. feedback is always appreciated.
Now with two bonus companion pieces: Reaching Backwards and Keep Your Feet On the Ground.
***
1.
The first time, they’re in Rough’n’Ready, California, driven inside by a late summer squall dumping unexpectedly down. John sits heavily on the bed with his shirt draped over his knees, inspecting the bruises on his ribs from their last hunt. Dean stands by the window, fingertips pressed against the glass, watching the rain. The room is silent, the TV dead. They haven’t said a word to each other for over an hour.
John’s not entirely surprised when Dean crosses the room, takes the shirt and drops it on the floor. Dean opens his mouth but just as quickly shuts it again, dropping his gaze and quirking a half-smile at John instead. John would be lying if he said he hadn’t been waiting for something to happen, been feeling the tension building in the air like ozone.
Dean sinks to his knees, his eyes flickering up again as he thumbs his father’s jeans open. John watches the steady drip of water spreading across Dean’s shoulders, runs a hand through his sons soaking hair. Dean tugs his pants down, lets them puddle on the ground. He leans in, faster than John thought he would, nipping the sensitive skin at crook of John’s inner thigh. John sucks in a breath, and Dean takes that for a go-ahead, lapping at the soft underside of his balls. His vision goes white when Dean rolls his tongue around the head of his cock before sliding his lips down the shaft.
John can distantly feel fingers digging into his knees. He’s braced on his elbows against the bed, his chest shuddering. Dean slides a spit slick hand to wrap around the base of his cock, his cheeks hollowing as he slowly slides his mouth up and down the length of him.
John pushes himself off his elbows. Dean glances up, his pupils blown and eyes mischievous. John has a sudden moment of clarity, realizes my son has had a dick in his mouth before, wonders absurdly when that happened, and whose.
He pushes Dean off slowly. Dean looks wide-eyed up at him, still so close that a thin trail of spit and precome trails from his lips to John’s glistening cock. All he wants to do is fuck into that mouth again and again until they’re both raw and exhausted.
He leans forward, cups Dean’s cheek in hand and kisses the top of his son’s head. His lips come away wet with rain and sweat, and he licks the taste off his lips before lying back again. Dean gets into his own bed without a word.
2.
The night after they’re in the next state over at Steptoe, Nevada. They’ve abandoned all pretense at staying in one place these days, two gleaming black bodies roaring across the roads like an eternal game of keep-away. Dean tries again, and John lets him because he couldn’t remember the last time it’d been someone else. It’s fast and messy in the narrow bathroom, and both come out bruised.
3.
Halfway across the country from where they started, Dean has both hands braced against the headboard, his thighs tense on top of John’s. One of John’s hands is cupping his son’s foot, thumb pressed along the sole. The other is splayed flat against Dean’s chest, pulling him back against John. He rocks his hips into Dean, sending sparks chasing themselves from balls to brain, glad for the first time that his son is so much smaller.
John shifts, curls his hand around Dean’s cheek, turns his son’s head as best he can to see his eyes. He gulps to catch his breath a few times before he trusts himself to speak, breathing hot into the other man’s ear.
“Dean. Why are you doing this?”
Dean makes a questing noise low in his throat, and flicks his gaze away. His eyes are lidded and fucked out, and he nuzzles blindly along John’s jaw before capturing the other man’s tongue with his own, licking into his mouth; it’s the first time Dean’s tried to kiss him since he was much, much younger. John thrusts again, harder, sends them both tumbling. Dean comes with a sharp cry on hands and knees, into his own cupped hand. It sends John spilling over the edge, biting hard on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean jerks away, but John holds them steady until the afterquakes subside and they collapse spent on the bed.
Dean moves to roll out of bed, but John catches his chin between two fingers before he gets very far. “You didn’t answer my question, kid.”