Further to my previous post: you advertise for a graphic, and you get several at once. ;) I probably shouldn't post this now, since I have to go to bed imminently, but...porn. So, without further ado, welcome to the
Sam's off the wall before he really knows what's happening, pants still tangled around his ankles as Dean tugs him forward, hand gripping his ass as Dean drags him toward the bed, “Gonna make you feel so good, Sammy,” Sam still fuzzy around the edges as he hits his legs against the side of the bed, Dean easily pushing him over until he's bent over the bed with his ass in the air, rough hand on either side of his ass as Dean spreads him open, hot breath tickling against his …
Oh. Shit.
Dean jumps like he's been electrocuted, scrambling over the side of the bed away from the door, frozen on his knees because he's can't stand up without knocking something over with the woody he's currently sporting.
Sam's always been a quick thinker, though, and he's got his pants back up in no time, face right at the door as Dad turns the key and looks in.
“You boys ok? I thought I heard... something.”
“Dad, thank god you're here.”
Sam smiles and rolls his eyes, amps up the puppy dog face to levels that would sicken men more sober than their father.
John scans the room, takes in the sight of Dean kneeling by the bed, shirtless and flushed, freckles standing out against the red of his face, redder lips bruised and plump, eyes wide as he stares back, then turns back to Sam, also shirtless, chest heaving up and down as he smiles like an angel.
“Can you please tell Dean that we don't need to do any more sparring practice today? I'm tired.”
Sam pouts a little as their Dad nods his head a few times, muttering “sparring practice” under his breath before he looks at Dean.
“Dean, let your brother get some sleep. We're leaving at six.”
Dean manages to choke out a, “Yes, sir,” as Sam beams at him.
John nods his head a few more times before he closes the door and retreats down the hallway.
Sam turns back to Dean, innocence completely gone as he stalks over to his older brother and pushes him down on the floor, straddling him and circling his hips over the bulge in Dean's pants.
“You heard what Dad said, Dean,” Sam leans in, grinding himself into Dean's cock as he licks up his ear, “we've only got until six.”
Oh. Shit.
Dean jumps like he's been electrocuted, scrambling over the side of the bed away from the door, frozen on his knees because he's can't stand up without knocking something over with the woody he's currently sporting.
Sam's always been a quick thinker, though, and he's got his pants back up in no time, face right at the door as Dad turns the key and looks in.
“You boys ok? I thought I heard... something.”
“Dad, thank god you're here.”
Sam smiles and rolls his eyes, amps up the puppy dog face to levels that would sicken men more sober than their father.
John scans the room, takes in the sight of Dean kneeling by the bed, shirtless and flushed, freckles standing out against the red of his face, redder lips bruised and plump, eyes wide as he stares back, then turns back to Sam, also shirtless, chest heaving up and down as he smiles like an angel.
“Can you please tell Dean that we don't need to do any more sparring practice today? I'm tired.”
Sam pouts a little as their Dad nods his head a few times, muttering “sparring practice” under his breath before he looks at Dean.
“Dean, let your brother get some sleep. We're leaving at six.”
Dean manages to choke out a, “Yes, sir,” as Sam beams at him.
John nods his head a few more times before he closes the door and retreats down the hallway.
Sam turns back to Dean, innocence completely gone as he stalks over to his older brother and pushes him down on the floor, straddling him and circling his hips over the bulge in Dean's pants.
“You heard what Dad said, Dean,” Sam leans in, grinding himself into Dean's cock as he licks up his ear, “we've only got until six.”
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