Dirty Wild Freckled Sticky Whore

A/N: I'm so proud of this piece. It's not only the first time I've been able to write something which didn't rely solely upon too much dialoge to carry it through but I believe I really was finally able to adequately explain such a morally wrong situation and why it's so right for John and Dean.



I love John and Dean together as a romantic couple, and in other instances as Dean being not such a willing participant in John's advances because I believe it truly could have gone that way. This offers an explanation and perspective as to how the two men ended up together and how Sam ultimately drove them to the other. Enjoy.

xxxx JOHN xxxx

 

Normally the hunter and Marine in him would have already had a blade buried deep in the belly of whoever or whatever had just attacked him except John knew better.



Although he couldn’t see the man whose strong hands were pressing down hard against the front blades of his shoulders and a dark head of hair pushed fiercely against his ear, John wasn’t frightened. He knew he wasn’t in danger and even though he truly was pinned and could not get away, it didn’t matter. John knew who it was. The obvious, large denim clad hard cock which ground sensuously yet with desperation into the curve of his hip unmistakably belonged to Dean.



So gutting and fileting this unexpected assailant wasn’t going to happen. Dean was the last person John would ever, ever want to kill.



John loved, revered and lusted after his grown son more than any other person he had ever experienced in his life.



Not the five hundred dollar Reno hookers he’d paid for, not the hot and willing young barflys which would always be taken in by John’s round honest features and husky voice... not even his treasured wife Mary could do to him what Dean did for him in a single encounter.



Dean drove John mad.



John’s eldest had grown into a man.

A fierce and proficient hunter.

Strong. Dark. Tall. Demanding. Virile.



Dean was damn hot and he could suck John off for hours..teasing him.. swallowing his father’s swollen cock down to the very depths of his moist constricting throat with perfect, full, pale-pink lips as John watched Dean’s saliva glisten all over his member until he believed he would literally explode.



John fucking loved it.



Loved Dean.



Simply could not get enough of his son’s physical beauty. The innate pleasure he received from Dean’s always willing body and commanding sense of prowess wasn’t something he was willing to give up anytime soon.



John had lost his conscience and capacity to rationalize or care about moral right and wrongs about eighty supernatural freaks, ten years of lost sleep, one selfish, arrogant and stubborn absent brat and one dead wife ago.



He knew what was about to happen next and there was no way in hell he was about to stop it. A blood-soaked past has a tendency to do that to a person. The whole world is damn lucky John Winchester didn't just let the entire earth burn while he stood holding the match.

xxxxXxxxx

He was so going to Hell and he knew it with every fiber of his being.



He was also well aware it is not possible to escape an inevitable fate. Every demon in the Pit couldn't wait for him to die. Pain and eternal torture their only thoughts. With his destiny so readily sealed, his self worth now fully destroyed and crushed beyond recognition, even with his bourbon addled brain, he knew he'd be punished soon enough.



So he figured why not? Just why the fuck not?



Why not get the best of everything this piece of shit world had to offer. So what if the very most perfect thing he could want was his son?



xxxxXxxxx



It was wrong.



What both men did to each other was wrong.



Sadly, their perceptions about their relationship was entirely distorted too. John and Dean’s reality was warped, fragmented and torn apart into tiny lies, then twisted and placed back together until all the sick pieces of their incestuous puzzle were based upon half-truths, full omissions and purely selfish desires. It suited both men perfectly.



John should have known better. Should have never let what he and Dean do together come to pass; but it was already far, far too late to change anything now. Father and Son were in too deep. Neither able nor desirous of existing without the other. If they were to separate, if somehow it could all go back to the way it was that would truly be the travesty. Separating Dean from his father had always been near impossible requiring an act of God but now John too felt the same way. He never wanted to be away from Dean for too long.



He liked Dean. He liked how he felt tucked away in the safety of the crook of his arm as his son’s warm flesh pressed against his chest while they lie resting.



Dean was mysterious. Dirty. Beautiful. Insistent. Hypnotic and all his.



And he loved his boy in more ways than he could ever sanely explain and for so many more reasons which he couldn't.



Dean was all he had after Sam stormed off in a fit of rage, breaking John and Sam's bond forever. Sam's absence and a slue of hate-filled words which couldn't be taken back by by any of the dysfunctional trio caused father and son to find themselves in a co-dependant situation never before experienced between them. John needed Dean and Dean need him. The fine gray lines had been crossed into something neither man fully understood but refused to deny.



It was just he and his son against the world now and John feared with every fiber of his being of losing him too and he'd be damned if he'd let that happen. He didn't try to change one thing about his son, Dean was a grown man now and if Dean desired him, then so be it.



Damn him and just damn the world.



Fuck it

Just fuck it

Go with it Winchester

He wants you

The boy needs you for christ sake

This is just how it is

At least you won't hurt him

And god damnit all to hell if he isn't fucking pretty..'



Of course Dean was hard to ignore and impossible to say no to, as it would be for any warm- blooded, breathing person to do. John couldn't deny his son's muscularly framed eager body writhing against his, moaning and pleading for his attention. It was selfish of him to not make Dean stop but John no longer cared.



And as Dean’s hot breath warmed the flesh of his whisker covered throat and teeth grazed him, John wouldn’t have it any other way.



xxx DEAN xxxx



His father wreaked of gun oil, leather and blood and Dean loved it. Relished it, and for as long as he could remember this was how John smelled. Dean treasured that scent.



Maybe the son desired the father because the son knew no better. That too could be an intricate and a most considerate part of their twisted puzzle but it doesn’t describe Dean at all. He's not a stupid man by any means; simply he is only that, a man. And he desired his father like no other person alive.



Maybe it was because he and John were similar in so many regards.

Maybe it was because John understood the type of life he lead and the things he had to do in order to survive. You can't just go around discussing with young ladies about your latest gruesome beheading of a Vampire without a slap in the face and triad of painful insults.

'you're insane, and if you think i'm having sex with you, you really are delusional.'

Dean always feared rejection from women, which was something he never got from his dad. John never said no or called him a freak, or a weirdo or worst of all, a liar.

Maybe it was because John understood the sleepless nights and the need for a six pack of beer with a double vodka chaser as a breakfast staple.



Maybe it was simply because it was his father and he loved him.

And despite John's gruff demeanor, Dean got to experience the man's softer side. Probably the same side his mother had fallen in love with so many years ago. Maybe because the way his daddy smelled reminded him of home.

 

Not a real home with a white picket fence and dog named Spot playing in the backyard; but a Winchester version of home. Wherever you lay your head, wherever you're not kicked back to the curb instantly becomes somewhere you never want to leave.

 

Whenever Dean drank in John’s scent it installed intense feelings of being safe. A sense of much needed security in his insane world and it took him far away from the harsh realities and atrocities of the here and now.



John was perfect for Dean in every sense of the meaning because John understood.



Now how wrong can that truly be?

xxxx The Winchester Men xxxx

 

John slammed the door beyond him as he entered the motel room. He'd been gone for over a month. His pants were dirt caked, the lids of his eyes heavy and wore low. To any one besides Dean John would appear angry and on the edge of outright dangerous.

Truth be told, he was simply exhausted. The man always looked like he carried the worries of a hundred men. His brow was furrowed. His shoulders rolled forward with a tight arch and dark heavy circles over shadowed the golden auburn glow of his eyes. But none of that mattered.



His dad was back and Dean couldn't have been more thrilled.

Dean thrust his body against his father's and grinned merely at hearing the sound of John grunting from the force. John reached out, grabbed a fist full of Dean's hair and pulled him into an immediate kiss. Dean's full lips pressed hard against his mouth. Their bodies searched for the other, John's hand laid heavy upon Dean’s hip.



Beer. A hint of Applewood bacon and Musk.



That's how Dean tasted.



John decided in that moment if his son was always going to taste this good then he could just stayed glued to his sweet mouth forever.



Finally needing air John was the first to speak. Slowly he pulled Dean back and chuckled.



"Well, I see you're glad I'm back."



John’s weathered hand wrapped firmly around Dean's neck as Dean leaned in and kissed his throat. John's whisker rough flesh scratched Dean's cheek as he traced a line with his teeth down John’s strong jaw line.



"Ssssstt.. Damn it boy... You better stop that right now. I won't last five minutes."



Pressing full lips which just screamed sex fully against John’s throat he moaned.

"Mmm.. hello Dad."



The feel of his son's slick lips and the vibration of the words sent a tingle through his body. Instantly John’s loins become hot and his cock hard. Dean drug his teeth along John's collarbone then grazed the skin just enough to make him wince.

"You taste good."



John's body tightened under his son's touch when his own erection painfully pressed against the inside of his jeans. Dean noticed his father's reactions and quickly slid his hand passed John's worn leather belt, down into his pants and firmly gripped his cock.



“You’re so hard." Dean whispered slowly as he continued to play with the warm flesh of John's throat with his tongue. Instinctively John's hips bucked forward, pushing his aching cock up into Dean's strong grip.



With a slow deep drawl, John replied. "I know. See what you do to me?”



Dean breathed long against his father's ear while one hand rested heavily upon John's shoulder still keeping him pinned against the door.

“You’re always so wound after hunting.”

John hitched a smiled and grit his teeth. “Uh huh. Shut up and just keep touching me.”

A wicked knowing grin turned on the corner of Dean's lips. "I know. I also know how you like it."



John reached down, quickly undid his belt and zipper and waited for his son's mouth. He didn't have to wait long. He bit his lip hard when Dean’s wet tongue lapped on the thick head of his cock. Dean began squeezing and pumping his hands in the exact way he knew his father liked it best.



"Like this right?"



John barely choked out the word. "Yes."



"Not good enough. Answer me more fully. Is this how you want it John? Is this how daddy likes to be touched?"

"Jesus fuck Dean."

John had never encountered Dean being so commanding or so purposefully fucking dirty. The boy was damn good.. and for the first time John realized just how much Dean literally oozed sex from every pore of his being.



With the need to arouse his father more, he swallowed him deep then slowly drug his tongue up the underside of the shaft and flicked the tip his tongue across the slit. John’s reply was the tightening of his fist in Dean’s dark hair.

“F-fuck..I..I”



“Do it Dad..just let it go..”



Dean licked his lips while he watched his father's eyes shut closed as he came in his mouth. He just brought John to orgasm and now he was about to come unglued. Dean was rock hard and a creamy, pearlized pre-cum wept from his swollen, aching and needy cock.



Dean needed release.

He stood and began to writhe against John's hipbone, hands sticky with John's cum and he didn't care.



He looked like a whore. A denim clad beautiful dark wild freckled dirty sticky whore.



John loved watching and listening to the needy sighs and moans of pleasure as Dean’s strong body pressed desperately against his heavy frame.

And god was he beautiful writhing against him.



"Damn it Dean. Why? Why do you have to be so fucking beautiful huh?"



And with that John gave in. He couldn't deny Dean any longer. He'd been a good dad resisting temptation with every ounce of will power he possessed. For all the years that they had been 'together' never once had he had sexual intercourse with Dean. The two never did more than fondle, kiss suck and stroke each other off.



Until now.

With all his strength John placed a hand against Dean's stomach and shoved him away from his body.



"Dad?" Dean was startled and wasn't sure how to react. For a moment he was almost frightened, uncertain as to what the urgency in the rough move could have meant.



"You're gonna be the death of me I swear." John replied in a husky tone.



He asked for it. The boy really did. All but allowed the words to escape his lips, 'fuck me'. All the moaning and rocking and pushing and whining as Dean pressed his warm body and rock hard cock against his hip in a sinful dance. 'take me.. i need more than this.' Dean all but said the words. And John didn't need any more hints.



By sheer power of his unadulterated presence, John guided Dean towards the bed without saying a word. Walking one step forward as Dean stepped slowly behind him following his father's lead, his eyes wide and questioning.

'are we going to..? are you..? what-what are you going to do? are we..?'



"Take off your shirt."

There was an urgency in John's voice Dean wasn’t readily familiar with. It wasn't quite in John's typical barking order fashion but the same intensity of sincerity was there. John watched as Dean stopped mid-stride, his bow-legged stance causing his jeans to tighten around his ample thighs; a fact which didn't go unnoticed. A cross of his arms behind his back was enough to remove the thin cotton t-shirt.

John stared at Dean's tanned flesh and reveled at how his body was delicately dusted with freckles.



In only one stride John was right in front him, no more than an inch from Dean’s face. He grabbed Dean's head again, bringing their lips crashing together; but only for a moment. In the next second he spun Dean around and pushed him onto the bed.



Dean lie on his stomach momentarily stunned until he felt the full weight of his father upon his body snapping him out of his daze. John's hands snaked their way under his torso and begun undoing Dean's jeans. By now Dean was so hard the head peeked out from the top of the waistband of his briefs and he found himself enjoying the contrast of the course material of the bedspread rubbing against him.



John's hand made its way to Dean's erection and upon feeling how hard and wet he was, he reached out and grabbed Dean's hand and guided him towards his own cock.



"Touch yourself. I want you to touch yourself." his father's voice rang sexy and whiskey rough around and around in his head until he believed he would pass out. Without hesitation he followed John's lead and grabbed his own cock; his sweaty palm surrounded the shaft. The removal of the rest of Dean's clothes was instantaneous. Dean was now fully nude, his round buttocks grinding while the stroked himself.



John stood, removed his pants and boots then laid back down upon Dean. He then spit upon the pads of his fingers and stroked his own half-aroused shaft. It wasn’t going to take long for John to reach full hardness again.

xxxxXxxxx



Chocolate locks of hair lashed around Dean's eyes and his sweat matted brow as John continued his slow, insistent pushing of his cock inside him.

It was fantastic. More than John ever expected.

And although he knew his son must of hurt because when he awkwardly entered him Dean hissed ‘son of a bitch’ through clenched teeth as his fist drug the comforter half way down the bed.

It hurt but Dean felt pleasure too. Not just because of the sexual relief he was receiving but more from finally getting to be with John in this way. It meant something although at the moment he had no idea what, but to finally go beyond all the teasing and light sex was what he wanted. So through the pain Dean continued to rock gently beneath John's movements.

"I-I don't want to do this too long. It'll hurt you Dean."

"It's okay. Just don’t stop moving.” Dean was a good little soldier to the end.

John wrapped his hand around his own shaft and began pumping hard. Dean's buttocks pushed solidly against his fist. He brought himself as close to orgasm as possible then stopped. Lying the full length of his body against his son's, their bodies now pressed together in a perfect arch. John remained propped with one hand on the bed his other possessively grabbed Dean's hip. Wanting to get as close to Dean as possible, John’s head hung low as it pressed against Dean’s cheek and he whispered heavy in his ear.

"Mine."



Dean responded with a whimper and a manic rolling of his hips. John loved feeling his writhing underneath his heavy frame. Dean felt so fresh, and hot and alive and young and beautiful, causing him to want his son more than ever before. John repeated himself but more demanding this time.

"I said, Mine."



Uncertainty abounded in Dean's mind about what his father wanted to hear as response but it didn't matter; Dean answered honestly with the first thought that came to mind.



"Yes."



And those were the magic words.

John pulled Dean's body hard against his and rocked and pushed his cock in and out of Dean's tight ass, reveling in the return desperate sounds until he exploded his seed deep inside.



As John collapsed down upon Dean he didn't know what to say. Words eluded him but he stayed with an arm wrapped tightly around his son's body.



It was an embrace.

A hug.

A thank you of sorts.

It was John saying 'I love you' without ever saying the words and Dean knew it.



As the ever persistent sun rose the next morning, her brightness peeked through a crack in the curtain and golden rays of light danced across two very nude, extremely spent, sleeping men. Dean was lying on the side of the bed closest to the window. He was on his back with his head turned east, open palm splayed flat across his own abdomen. John was next to him lying on his side, his strong arm lay heavily across Dean’s chest.



Both men were lost deep in sleep, each filling the room with sounds of exhaustion; John lightly snoring and Dean mumbling something incoherent and known only to him.

Maybe it happened because John and Dean were two of a kind and belonged together.



Maybe it happened because John couldn't express self control when it came to pleasures of the self.



Maybe John and Dean just loved each other too much.

Maybe it happened because it was supposed to.

Maybe it was pre-ordained. Like Mary's death and Sam's demon blood, maybe it was just supposed to be.

And whose is to truly say what is right and what is wrong?



Let he who be without sin cast the first stone.

And neither man ever did.



-end-