About a Boy and His Daddy | Sam/Dean | NC-17 (SPN_Masquerade)
Title: About a Boy and His Daddy
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating/Warnings: NC-17/(Pseudo?) Underage, daddy kink
Words: 3300
Summary: It was bad enough that Dean was stuck in a teenage body, then he had to go on calling Sam "Daddy". A man could only take so much until he had to punish his son ...
Notes: Written for SPN_Masquerade Spring 2020 for the prompt: About a Boy (10.12), daddy kink. “Your son is so polite.” Originally posted here
Read on AO3
Sam had just about gotten used to his brother’s new, current, temporary, whatever form as a teenager when something hit him hard in the chest.
Dean was helping a woman pick up her keys and she smiled so kindly at them both as she said, “Your son is so polite.”
A second passed and Sam recoiled, awkwardly replying, “Thanks,” then he stopped in place.
A son.
Dean.
His son.
It was such a foreign concept - to have a son, or any child. Especially when that son she was smiling at was really his older, pain-in-the-ass brother.
He hadn’t thought about having kids in ages, and he surely didn’t want one now. Didn’t want to worry about tracking down a kid and taking care of someone else when he was lucky to have just enough to get by all these years. And he surely didn’t want to bring a kid into this life, give them his same fucked up childhood.
Dean smacking the top of the Impala broke Sam from his thoughts. “Let’s go, Sammy!”
It was barked a hell of a lot like Old!Dean, but the higher, just-hitting-puberty tone made Sam roll his eyes.
*
On the road, Sam was behind the wheel, because Dean was now only 15. No matter how much he argued the point that he was older than Sam by four years, Sam muscled him out of the way and to the passenger side.
Dean was pouting in his seat and staring out the side window, and Sam felt a little guilty about sidelining his brother. The same brother who saved his ass every day of the week and twice on Sundays. And gave up his ass to Sam nearly as often …
To cheer Dean up, Sam chuckled and lightly punched Dean’s thigh. “Hey, that lady at the motel this morning?”
With a quick look, Dean seemed semi-interested, yet he just grunted and leaned his head against the window again.
“She thought you were my son.” Sam punched Dean’s leg a little harder. “Imagine that. If I was your dad.”
“I’d love it if you were my daddy.” Dean turned and batted his lashes, even pouted out his plump lower lip.
If this were a week ago and Sam was staring down the face of his late-thirty-something brother instead of an underage virgin, it may have done something to Sam’s dick. Or maybe Sam would’ve taunted him right back.
But it shouldn’t be doing anything for him …
What was the opposite of a hard on?
Could it shrivel up into his body?
Still, his stomach clenched and he kept hearing young Dean’s voice repeat daddy …
“Forget I said anything,” Sam mumbled and now he was the one scowling out the window.
*
That night, they made a quick supply run to a local grocer. The place was the only open space in a strip mall that looked like it was about to disintegrate into the broken concrete of the parking lot. But the beer and liquor signs blinked red and blue in the window, so Dean considered it good enough.
“You’re not even of age, Dean.”
“That’s why I’ve got you, Sammy.” Dean tossed him a lopsided grin.
Sam gave him a look and he really should’ve seen it coming.
“Can you buy me my first drink, Dad?”
It felt like a knife digging into his side, Dean calling him dad.
Dean leaned in close, wide eyes faking innocence, and dropped his voice. “Please, Dad? Can I have one of your beers tonight?”
Now Sam had a close look at his brother’s green eyes, dark pupils drawing him in. Even if the face and body were all wrong, that look was all right.
And that look was doing things to him, like making his belly flop over and his boxers feel a little tight.
He cleared his throat and pushed Dean back to the passenger side of the front bench. “Just cool it with the dad thing, okay?”
“Why?” Dean laughed. “You’re the one who brought it up earlier.”
Sam flung his arm out, as if he could halt the conversation with his fist. “Yeah, well, now I’m bringing it down.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
Sam was already out of the driver’s seat and heading to the store, but he could still hear Dean’s voice from inside the car then trailing him.
“You can’t bring a conversation down, Sam. It just doesn’t make sense.”
Once inside the store, Sam turned on his heel and glared at Dean. “Alright, I got it. Now cut it out, okay? We’re just getting a few things and then we’re heading back to the room.”
Dean lifted in his hands in surrender. “Alright, whatever you say.”
They made their way through the store for chips, bread, lunch meat, mustard and mayo, even a jar of pickles that Dean insisted on. He was playing catch with the jar as he followed Sam around the store and humming Metallica, loudly, obnoxiously.
Dun dun dunnnnnnn he growled and every single sound out of his mouth grated down Sam’s spine.
Sam turned around, grabbed the jar from the air, and glared at Dean. “Would you quit it?”
“I wasn’t even doing anything,” the teenage voice argued.
“Just grab a case of beer and let’s go.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Dean replied, mocking his brother with a weak salute.
Sam hated to admit he had a quick flashback of their childhood, calling out yes, sir to everything Dad ordered them to do. It was troubling Sam to connect those dots, but he also felt a bit aroused for Dean to respond to him like that.
It was very confusing.
At the counter, Dean grabbed a handful of candy bars from a display rack, put one down, then replaced it with another, and did this over and over and over until Sam grabbed the extras from one hand and put them back on the rack with a dark look.
Dean rolled his eyes and put his hands up again, stepping back a few feet to let Sam finish checking out.
The cashier chuckled at them as he rang up their items. “Kids, huh?”
Sam fished out his wallet, counting cash for their purchase. “Huh?”
“Kids,” he repeated and motioned at Dean, who was now checking out the magazine collection, including a Busty Asian Beauties that made him grin real wide.
In between checking on Dean, alarmed by the sight of teenage Dean checking out porn, Sam shook his head and helped bag the groceries so they could get out of there as soon as possible.
“Can’t live with ‘em,” the cashier said, “Can’t kill ‘em without going to jail.”
“Unless you're Casey Anthony,” Dean pointed out. He put the magazine back and smirked at the cashier, giving a goofy shrug when he looked at Sam.
Sam was about to insist Dean wasn’t his kid when the cashier handed over the change and receipt and wished them a good night.
Dean moved in to grab some bags, an overdone smile on his lips. “Thank you so much, sir.”
The cashier laughed. “Okay, kid.” He tossed a look to Sam, almost like Good luck with that one.
Sam waved him off and pushed Dean out the door so they could get out of there and back to the hotel.
“Hey, that guy thought I was your kid, too!” Dean was so utterly amused, Sam wanted to smack that shit-eating grin off his face.
“Dean.”
“I’m just saying … or are we still bringing the convo back down?”
Sam shoved Dean to the passenger side door, making him skid in the gravel covering the parking lot and screech loudly until he got back on two feet. He laughed at his brother and mentally fist bumped for the image that he planned to play on repeat all while Little Dean existed. And maybe even remind them of the story when Grown Up Dean returned.
*
At the hotel room, Dean cracked open a beer and Sam immediately took it from him.
“Dude!” Dean argued.
Sam did his best to ignore his petulant brother and get back to making sandwiches at the desk. A swiss army knife was the best he had to spread the condiments, but he figured since he was kinda-sorta in charge right now, he could decide on homemade deli sandwiches rather than another heavy meal from some grease palace Dean would drool for.
Dean reached for the beer, only to be stopped by Sam, again. “What’d you buy a case for if you’re not gonna share?”
“So, I could drink and forget about this nightmare?” To prove his point, Sam took a long drag from the bottle, draining at least half the bottle before needing to breathe.
Dean leaned back like he was slapped. “That’s no way to talk about your son.”
“You’re not my son!” Sam burst out and slammed the bottle to the desk.
“Dad …”
It was all a joke and Sam knew that. Deep down, he so knew Dean was just digging into his side, poking at a sliver of a wound to open it up and annoy the shit out of his little brother.
But Dean was the little one now and, if Sam were honest with himself, he was growing increasingly frustrated by what this meant for his sex life.
Was teenage Dean turning him on? A bit, yes. Those years were when Sam fell in love with him, after all … but after finding so much more with the full-sized version, Sam was confused about the predicament he was now in. Having fully consensual sex with his own brother was already pretty bad … add on the immorality of underage sex and Sam was itching all over.
“Daddy?” Dean asked after a long pause, voice taunting, and eyes sparkling in delight.
Sam finally snapped. He rose up to his full height, purposely pushing his chest out, and glaring down at Dean. There was a quick thrill of Dean’s teenage features twisting from amusement to a mixture of fear and arousal. Then Sam picked Dean up and threw him on the bed, spun him over to his stomach, and crawled up his back.
He held Dean’s wrists down on the mattress on either side of his head and planted his weight across the back of Dean’s thighs, keeping him completely immobile. Then he leaned in to hiss at his ear, “Call me Daddy one more time.”
Dean pushed his ass back into Sam, even as his voice shook and he apologized. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
Sam spied the curl of Dean’s lips and the pink high on his cheeks, recognizing that Dean wasn’t feeling punished in the slightest.
That angered him even more, so Sam tucked both of Dean’s wrists in one hand above Dean’s head and reached beneath his brother to undo his belt and jeans. He’d done this dozens of times before from this position, but he usually wasn’t so angered up to hold Dean down at the same time, so he struggled a little with one hand. Dean lifted his hips to help and while Sam appreciated it, he was growing livid that Dean was purposely drawing Sam right into this situation with all his heckling.
“Oh, no,” Dean said, all put-on innocence, overdone with mocking wide eyes. “What are you doing, Daddy? Was I a bad boy?”
Sam finally got Dean’s pants undone and tugged them down just beneath his ass. That was when he slapped Dean’s ass cheek and felt a flare of heat through his hand, up his arm, across his chest, before it fired due south to his dick.
Dean flinched with a surprised, “Oh!” and Sam was finally happy to have a bit of the upper hand.
“You wanna know who your daddy is?” Sam grunted out before slapping Dean’s ass again, leaving another bright red handprint on his pale ass.
There was a grumble with the hit, followed by a low moan in Dean’s chest. “Yes, I wanna know who my Daddy is.”
Sam smacked him again, changed his angle, and went for the other cheek, laying down another handful of prints that covered the entirety of Dean’s tiny teenage ass. Dean hitched up with every hit and he whined at the pain, and Sam’s skin burned with the excitement of getting Dean to react in this way.
He was done, though, not by a long shot. He just had to get the lube from the drawer while keeping Dean in place. It was a struggle, but even when his hand loosened around Dean’s wrists, his little big brother didn’t dare move from his position. Sam dripped lube down Dean’s ass crack then ran his thumb down it, pushing the lube at his hole.
“How’s that, Dean? You feel how big Daddy’s thumb is?”
Dean whined again and pushed his forehead against the bed. “It feels big. So much bigger than I remember.”
Sam nudged his thumb in, wiggled it down to the base of his hand, even when he was sure it was a lot of Dean’s young body. “You’re not gonna forget it now, are you?”
“No.”
“No, what?” Sam demanded.
“No, Daddy.”
Sam bit his bottom lip hard, hoping the pain curbed how quickly his dick was getting hard, how close he was to just opening his pants and shoving his dick right in that tiny hole.
Dean wiggled his hands in Sam’s relaxing grip and his fingers curled around Sam’s wrist, holding on as he rutted his ass back to Sam’s thumb. So, Sam slid his thumb in harder and faster, adding lube then switching it out for his middle finger. It was thinner than his thumb, yet it sure was longer and he wanted Dean ready for his dick.
There was a whole lot of squirming as Sam reached inside his brother, that smaller body giving him better access to all of Dean’s sensitive areas, places that hadn't been broken in over the years. Not to mention a libido that wasn’t as mature …
“Alright, Sam,” Dean groaned, “Get on with the show … Don’t think I can party as long as I usually do, if you know what I mean.”
Sam growled in return, sliding a second finger in along with the first. “I thought you wanted your Daddy?”
Dean rocked his hips back on Sam’s fingers and moaned. “Yeah, I want my Daddy.”
Something spun in Sam’s mind. Maybe a knee jerk reaction to Dean sounding pained and needy. So, his voice dropped, soft and soothing, when he told him, “Then you gotta be patient, baby.”
“I don’t wanna be patient,” Dean groaned, suddenly sounding like good ole Dean with a deep rumble.
Sam shoved his two fingers in deep, pressing them all around to stretch Dean out. “You think you’re ready now? You ready for your daddy?”
Dean continued to writhe on Sam’s fingers, whining, “Yeah, I’m ready for you. Give me my Daddy.”
Sam pulled back, but when Dean started to move, he barked at him. “Stay where you are! I didn’t say you could move.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean murmured as he stretched his hands out above his head.
“Good boy,” Sam praised him, grabbing one of Dean’s ass cheeks and shaking it. Then he poured more lube at his hole and thumbed at Dean’s ass as he worked one-handed to get his own pants and boxers down, lubed up his dick, before he nudged the tip at Dean’s hole. “You sure you’re ready?”
“Yes, sir,” he repeated. There was a smile in his voice when he corrected himself, “I mean, yes, Daddy.”
Sam snarled as the name still smarted, but then he was sinking into his brother and nothing bothered him anymore. He was surrounded by the heat of his brother, recognizable even in that body. The curve of Dean’s ass in his hands was smaller, yet the same shape, the same good fit to his palms. And the curl of Dean’s lips were still full and pink and eyes that same soft green. Those freckles were stark on his milky skin, as always, across his nose and cheeks, spreading out past his shoulders and back, down his ass and thighs.
He fucked his brother’s little body as he bookmarked all the things that were unchanged from the man he’d known and loved his whole adult life. And Dean’s tiny voice egged him on, begging for his daddy, wanting to be touched. So, Sam shifted back, pulled Dean with him to sit back on his lap, and stroked his brother’s little dick until he was a quivering mess and shot too soon, like any high school boy passing through puberty.
The clench of the tiny ass on Sam’s dick was all he needed. He fucked up a few times, wrapping his arms around Dean’s thin hips, and emptied into him.
After, Sam helped clean Dean up, dabbing at his ass with a damp hand towel and doing all he could to ignore the sudden wash of emotion. In that moment, he couldn’t help but see just how small Dean was, how little and used his hole was, and Sam ran the gamut of shame and disgust for fucking his teenage brother.
When he was done, Dean rolled over to his back, crossed his ankles, and folded his arms behind his head. He was smirking, and it felt familiar and soft despite Sam’s dark mood. “Well, Sammy, I think you’ve found yourself a new kink.”
Sam rolled his eyes and threw the towel at him, smiling when it smacked him in the face. Dean sputtered from a quick jolt of germaphobia for his own fluids, and Sam openly laughed at his brother. It suddenly felt like them and Sam did what he could to let the humiliation fall away.
He grabbed two beers and tossed one to Dean. “Here.”
“Finally? Gonna let your son have his first beer?”
He flipped the top off his beer and knocked it with Dean’s. “I figure you earned it.”
Dean took a long drink, then happily smacked his lips. “You bet your ass I did.”
“It was your ass,” Sam pointed out, smacking Dean to the side of the bed so he could stretch out next to him.
“And don’t you forget it!”
Sam sighed and knocked his head back to the wall. “I mean, of all the things in my life, I’d really like to forget fucking my teenage brother’s body.”
Dean nudged their shoulders together. “You wanna forget about being my daddy?”
They each took a few quiet sips of beer and Sam made a thoughtful face. He was not likely to forget that part for a long while. When Dean was back in his body, he could ask Dean about his daddy, maybe they could revisit it at a later date …
“And the spanking?”
Dean was taunting him then, but Sam could fire right back at him. “I didn’t hear you complaining about that.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. After a quick drink, Dean adds, “Daddy.”
Sam smacked Dean’s bare thigh and Dean yelped. When he blushed and gave Sam a dark look, Sam had to groan at him. “Oh, c’mon. Already?”
“My recovery time is remarkable at this age!” Dean gestured at his dick, which was already fattening up to half mast.
It was still an odd image to see Dean’s teenage dick, even after what just happened, but Sam recognized that it was a pretty sight of those freckles all over the smaller dick. So, he slid down a bit, rolled to his side, and rested on one elbow. “I need to sit this round out.” He took a long swig and nodded at Dean. “But I’m happy to watch.”
It took a moment for the light to go off, but Dean’s smile was bright as the sun when he caught on, gripped his dick with a tight fist, and twisted quickly. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating/Warnings: NC-17/(Pseudo?) Underage, daddy kink
Words: 3300
Summary: It was bad enough that Dean was stuck in a teenage body, then he had to go on calling Sam "Daddy". A man could only take so much until he had to punish his son ...
Notes: Written for SPN_Masquerade Spring 2020 for the prompt: About a Boy (10.12), daddy kink. “Your son is so polite.” Originally posted here
Read on AO3
Sam had just about gotten used to his brother’s new, current, temporary, whatever form as a teenager when something hit him hard in the chest.
Dean was helping a woman pick up her keys and she smiled so kindly at them both as she said, “Your son is so polite.”
A second passed and Sam recoiled, awkwardly replying, “Thanks,” then he stopped in place.
A son.
Dean.
His son.
It was such a foreign concept - to have a son, or any child. Especially when that son she was smiling at was really his older, pain-in-the-ass brother.
He hadn’t thought about having kids in ages, and he surely didn’t want one now. Didn’t want to worry about tracking down a kid and taking care of someone else when he was lucky to have just enough to get by all these years. And he surely didn’t want to bring a kid into this life, give them his same fucked up childhood.
Dean smacking the top of the Impala broke Sam from his thoughts. “Let’s go, Sammy!”
It was barked a hell of a lot like Old!Dean, but the higher, just-hitting-puberty tone made Sam roll his eyes.
*
On the road, Sam was behind the wheel, because Dean was now only 15. No matter how much he argued the point that he was older than Sam by four years, Sam muscled him out of the way and to the passenger side.
Dean was pouting in his seat and staring out the side window, and Sam felt a little guilty about sidelining his brother. The same brother who saved his ass every day of the week and twice on Sundays. And gave up his ass to Sam nearly as often …
To cheer Dean up, Sam chuckled and lightly punched Dean’s thigh. “Hey, that lady at the motel this morning?”
With a quick look, Dean seemed semi-interested, yet he just grunted and leaned his head against the window again.
“She thought you were my son.” Sam punched Dean’s leg a little harder. “Imagine that. If I was your dad.”
“I’d love it if you were my daddy.” Dean turned and batted his lashes, even pouted out his plump lower lip.
If this were a week ago and Sam was staring down the face of his late-thirty-something brother instead of an underage virgin, it may have done something to Sam’s dick. Or maybe Sam would’ve taunted him right back.
But it shouldn’t be doing anything for him …
What was the opposite of a hard on?
Could it shrivel up into his body?
Still, his stomach clenched and he kept hearing young Dean’s voice repeat daddy …
“Forget I said anything,” Sam mumbled and now he was the one scowling out the window.
*
That night, they made a quick supply run to a local grocer. The place was the only open space in a strip mall that looked like it was about to disintegrate into the broken concrete of the parking lot. But the beer and liquor signs blinked red and blue in the window, so Dean considered it good enough.
“You’re not even of age, Dean.”
“That’s why I’ve got you, Sammy.” Dean tossed him a lopsided grin.
Sam gave him a look and he really should’ve seen it coming.
“Can you buy me my first drink, Dad?”
It felt like a knife digging into his side, Dean calling him dad.
Dean leaned in close, wide eyes faking innocence, and dropped his voice. “Please, Dad? Can I have one of your beers tonight?”
Now Sam had a close look at his brother’s green eyes, dark pupils drawing him in. Even if the face and body were all wrong, that look was all right.
And that look was doing things to him, like making his belly flop over and his boxers feel a little tight.
He cleared his throat and pushed Dean back to the passenger side of the front bench. “Just cool it with the dad thing, okay?”
“Why?” Dean laughed. “You’re the one who brought it up earlier.”
Sam flung his arm out, as if he could halt the conversation with his fist. “Yeah, well, now I’m bringing it down.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
Sam was already out of the driver’s seat and heading to the store, but he could still hear Dean’s voice from inside the car then trailing him.
“You can’t bring a conversation down, Sam. It just doesn’t make sense.”
Once inside the store, Sam turned on his heel and glared at Dean. “Alright, I got it. Now cut it out, okay? We’re just getting a few things and then we’re heading back to the room.”
Dean lifted in his hands in surrender. “Alright, whatever you say.”
They made their way through the store for chips, bread, lunch meat, mustard and mayo, even a jar of pickles that Dean insisted on. He was playing catch with the jar as he followed Sam around the store and humming Metallica, loudly, obnoxiously.
Dun dun dunnnnnnn he growled and every single sound out of his mouth grated down Sam’s spine.
Sam turned around, grabbed the jar from the air, and glared at Dean. “Would you quit it?”
“I wasn’t even doing anything,” the teenage voice argued.
“Just grab a case of beer and let’s go.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Dean replied, mocking his brother with a weak salute.
Sam hated to admit he had a quick flashback of their childhood, calling out yes, sir to everything Dad ordered them to do. It was troubling Sam to connect those dots, but he also felt a bit aroused for Dean to respond to him like that.
It was very confusing.
At the counter, Dean grabbed a handful of candy bars from a display rack, put one down, then replaced it with another, and did this over and over and over until Sam grabbed the extras from one hand and put them back on the rack with a dark look.
Dean rolled his eyes and put his hands up again, stepping back a few feet to let Sam finish checking out.
The cashier chuckled at them as he rang up their items. “Kids, huh?”
Sam fished out his wallet, counting cash for their purchase. “Huh?”
“Kids,” he repeated and motioned at Dean, who was now checking out the magazine collection, including a Busty Asian Beauties that made him grin real wide.
In between checking on Dean, alarmed by the sight of teenage Dean checking out porn, Sam shook his head and helped bag the groceries so they could get out of there as soon as possible.
“Can’t live with ‘em,” the cashier said, “Can’t kill ‘em without going to jail.”
“Unless you're Casey Anthony,” Dean pointed out. He put the magazine back and smirked at the cashier, giving a goofy shrug when he looked at Sam.
Sam was about to insist Dean wasn’t his kid when the cashier handed over the change and receipt and wished them a good night.
Dean moved in to grab some bags, an overdone smile on his lips. “Thank you so much, sir.”
The cashier laughed. “Okay, kid.” He tossed a look to Sam, almost like Good luck with that one.
Sam waved him off and pushed Dean out the door so they could get out of there and back to the hotel.
“Hey, that guy thought I was your kid, too!” Dean was so utterly amused, Sam wanted to smack that shit-eating grin off his face.
“Dean.”
“I’m just saying … or are we still bringing the convo back down?”
Sam shoved Dean to the passenger side door, making him skid in the gravel covering the parking lot and screech loudly until he got back on two feet. He laughed at his brother and mentally fist bumped for the image that he planned to play on repeat all while Little Dean existed. And maybe even remind them of the story when Grown Up Dean returned.
*
At the hotel room, Dean cracked open a beer and Sam immediately took it from him.
“Dude!” Dean argued.
Sam did his best to ignore his petulant brother and get back to making sandwiches at the desk. A swiss army knife was the best he had to spread the condiments, but he figured since he was kinda-sorta in charge right now, he could decide on homemade deli sandwiches rather than another heavy meal from some grease palace Dean would drool for.
Dean reached for the beer, only to be stopped by Sam, again. “What’d you buy a case for if you’re not gonna share?”
“So, I could drink and forget about this nightmare?” To prove his point, Sam took a long drag from the bottle, draining at least half the bottle before needing to breathe.
Dean leaned back like he was slapped. “That’s no way to talk about your son.”
“You’re not my son!” Sam burst out and slammed the bottle to the desk.
“Dad …”
It was all a joke and Sam knew that. Deep down, he so knew Dean was just digging into his side, poking at a sliver of a wound to open it up and annoy the shit out of his little brother.
But Dean was the little one now and, if Sam were honest with himself, he was growing increasingly frustrated by what this meant for his sex life.
Was teenage Dean turning him on? A bit, yes. Those years were when Sam fell in love with him, after all … but after finding so much more with the full-sized version, Sam was confused about the predicament he was now in. Having fully consensual sex with his own brother was already pretty bad … add on the immorality of underage sex and Sam was itching all over.
“Daddy?” Dean asked after a long pause, voice taunting, and eyes sparkling in delight.
Sam finally snapped. He rose up to his full height, purposely pushing his chest out, and glaring down at Dean. There was a quick thrill of Dean’s teenage features twisting from amusement to a mixture of fear and arousal. Then Sam picked Dean up and threw him on the bed, spun him over to his stomach, and crawled up his back.
He held Dean’s wrists down on the mattress on either side of his head and planted his weight across the back of Dean’s thighs, keeping him completely immobile. Then he leaned in to hiss at his ear, “Call me Daddy one more time.”
Dean pushed his ass back into Sam, even as his voice shook and he apologized. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
Sam spied the curl of Dean’s lips and the pink high on his cheeks, recognizing that Dean wasn’t feeling punished in the slightest.
That angered him even more, so Sam tucked both of Dean’s wrists in one hand above Dean’s head and reached beneath his brother to undo his belt and jeans. He’d done this dozens of times before from this position, but he usually wasn’t so angered up to hold Dean down at the same time, so he struggled a little with one hand. Dean lifted his hips to help and while Sam appreciated it, he was growing livid that Dean was purposely drawing Sam right into this situation with all his heckling.
“Oh, no,” Dean said, all put-on innocence, overdone with mocking wide eyes. “What are you doing, Daddy? Was I a bad boy?”
Sam finally got Dean’s pants undone and tugged them down just beneath his ass. That was when he slapped Dean’s ass cheek and felt a flare of heat through his hand, up his arm, across his chest, before it fired due south to his dick.
Dean flinched with a surprised, “Oh!” and Sam was finally happy to have a bit of the upper hand.
“You wanna know who your daddy is?” Sam grunted out before slapping Dean’s ass again, leaving another bright red handprint on his pale ass.
There was a grumble with the hit, followed by a low moan in Dean’s chest. “Yes, I wanna know who my Daddy is.”
Sam smacked him again, changed his angle, and went for the other cheek, laying down another handful of prints that covered the entirety of Dean’s tiny teenage ass. Dean hitched up with every hit and he whined at the pain, and Sam’s skin burned with the excitement of getting Dean to react in this way.
He was done, though, not by a long shot. He just had to get the lube from the drawer while keeping Dean in place. It was a struggle, but even when his hand loosened around Dean’s wrists, his little big brother didn’t dare move from his position. Sam dripped lube down Dean’s ass crack then ran his thumb down it, pushing the lube at his hole.
“How’s that, Dean? You feel how big Daddy’s thumb is?”
Dean whined again and pushed his forehead against the bed. “It feels big. So much bigger than I remember.”
Sam nudged his thumb in, wiggled it down to the base of his hand, even when he was sure it was a lot of Dean’s young body. “You’re not gonna forget it now, are you?”
“No.”
“No, what?” Sam demanded.
“No, Daddy.”
Sam bit his bottom lip hard, hoping the pain curbed how quickly his dick was getting hard, how close he was to just opening his pants and shoving his dick right in that tiny hole.
Dean wiggled his hands in Sam’s relaxing grip and his fingers curled around Sam’s wrist, holding on as he rutted his ass back to Sam’s thumb. So, Sam slid his thumb in harder and faster, adding lube then switching it out for his middle finger. It was thinner than his thumb, yet it sure was longer and he wanted Dean ready for his dick.
There was a whole lot of squirming as Sam reached inside his brother, that smaller body giving him better access to all of Dean’s sensitive areas, places that hadn't been broken in over the years. Not to mention a libido that wasn’t as mature …
“Alright, Sam,” Dean groaned, “Get on with the show … Don’t think I can party as long as I usually do, if you know what I mean.”
Sam growled in return, sliding a second finger in along with the first. “I thought you wanted your Daddy?”
Dean rocked his hips back on Sam’s fingers and moaned. “Yeah, I want my Daddy.”
Something spun in Sam’s mind. Maybe a knee jerk reaction to Dean sounding pained and needy. So, his voice dropped, soft and soothing, when he told him, “Then you gotta be patient, baby.”
“I don’t wanna be patient,” Dean groaned, suddenly sounding like good ole Dean with a deep rumble.
Sam shoved his two fingers in deep, pressing them all around to stretch Dean out. “You think you’re ready now? You ready for your daddy?”
Dean continued to writhe on Sam’s fingers, whining, “Yeah, I’m ready for you. Give me my Daddy.”
Sam pulled back, but when Dean started to move, he barked at him. “Stay where you are! I didn’t say you could move.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean murmured as he stretched his hands out above his head.
“Good boy,” Sam praised him, grabbing one of Dean’s ass cheeks and shaking it. Then he poured more lube at his hole and thumbed at Dean’s ass as he worked one-handed to get his own pants and boxers down, lubed up his dick, before he nudged the tip at Dean’s hole. “You sure you’re ready?”
“Yes, sir,” he repeated. There was a smile in his voice when he corrected himself, “I mean, yes, Daddy.”
Sam snarled as the name still smarted, but then he was sinking into his brother and nothing bothered him anymore. He was surrounded by the heat of his brother, recognizable even in that body. The curve of Dean’s ass in his hands was smaller, yet the same shape, the same good fit to his palms. And the curl of Dean’s lips were still full and pink and eyes that same soft green. Those freckles were stark on his milky skin, as always, across his nose and cheeks, spreading out past his shoulders and back, down his ass and thighs.
He fucked his brother’s little body as he bookmarked all the things that were unchanged from the man he’d known and loved his whole adult life. And Dean’s tiny voice egged him on, begging for his daddy, wanting to be touched. So, Sam shifted back, pulled Dean with him to sit back on his lap, and stroked his brother’s little dick until he was a quivering mess and shot too soon, like any high school boy passing through puberty.
The clench of the tiny ass on Sam’s dick was all he needed. He fucked up a few times, wrapping his arms around Dean’s thin hips, and emptied into him.
After, Sam helped clean Dean up, dabbing at his ass with a damp hand towel and doing all he could to ignore the sudden wash of emotion. In that moment, he couldn’t help but see just how small Dean was, how little and used his hole was, and Sam ran the gamut of shame and disgust for fucking his teenage brother.
When he was done, Dean rolled over to his back, crossed his ankles, and folded his arms behind his head. He was smirking, and it felt familiar and soft despite Sam’s dark mood. “Well, Sammy, I think you’ve found yourself a new kink.”
Sam rolled his eyes and threw the towel at him, smiling when it smacked him in the face. Dean sputtered from a quick jolt of germaphobia for his own fluids, and Sam openly laughed at his brother. It suddenly felt like them and Sam did what he could to let the humiliation fall away.
He grabbed two beers and tossed one to Dean. “Here.”
“Finally? Gonna let your son have his first beer?”
He flipped the top off his beer and knocked it with Dean’s. “I figure you earned it.”
Dean took a long drink, then happily smacked his lips. “You bet your ass I did.”
“It was your ass,” Sam pointed out, smacking Dean to the side of the bed so he could stretch out next to him.
“And don’t you forget it!”
Sam sighed and knocked his head back to the wall. “I mean, of all the things in my life, I’d really like to forget fucking my teenage brother’s body.”
Dean nudged their shoulders together. “You wanna forget about being my daddy?”
They each took a few quiet sips of beer and Sam made a thoughtful face. He was not likely to forget that part for a long while. When Dean was back in his body, he could ask Dean about his daddy, maybe they could revisit it at a later date …
“And the spanking?”
Dean was taunting him then, but Sam could fire right back at him. “I didn’t hear you complaining about that.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded. After a quick drink, Dean adds, “Daddy.”
Sam smacked Dean’s bare thigh and Dean yelped. When he blushed and gave Sam a dark look, Sam had to groan at him. “Oh, c’mon. Already?”
“My recovery time is remarkable at this age!” Dean gestured at his dick, which was already fattening up to half mast.
It was still an odd image to see Dean’s teenage dick, even after what just happened, but Sam recognized that it was a pretty sight of those freckles all over the smaller dick. So, he slid down a bit, rolled to his side, and rested on one elbow. “I need to sit this round out.” He took a long swig and nodded at Dean. “But I’m happy to watch.”
It took a moment for the light to go off, but Dean’s smile was bright as the sun when he caught on, gripped his dick with a tight fist, and twisted quickly. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”