Work Text:
Dad’s been… careful with alcohol lately. No more than a beer or a glass of whiskey each and he starts backing off and refusing more. A good thing in Dean’s book – they’ve been overdoing it probably, before they… had more ways to soothe each other.
Tonight is different though. Nice huge hotel room, sparkly and luxurious, probably more expensive per night than their whole lives. They’d… taken care of the occupants and it is now all theirs. Until the morning when someone’s surely gonna come knocking and they can sneak away. But that’s in quite a few hours. For now they’re locked in on the final floor among expensive scents and leather couches and fur rugs and very very high-end bourbon.
A bottle already gone between them, heavy crystal tumblers and lounging around. Another is almost halfway through, amber swirling in dad’s glass as he laughs deeply and lays his head back on the couch seat. They’re both slurring and laughing at nothing, sprawled on the bearskin between the wide mahogany coffee table and the low soft couch. Dean can feel his head buzzing, his eyes a bit blurry, movements languid and slow, like moving under water. Dad’s no better – his hands heavier than usual, muscles relaxed, voice deeper. Something impish in his glazed eyes. Stunted and telegraphed but thick rough movements.
Exhilarating as far as Dean’s concerned. He’s even more attractive like this, something mean behind his smirk, not holding back his hands, his open staring. Giggles in Dean’s throat unbidden when he pinches his cheek and calls him a naughty puppy, Dean’s hand on the bulge in his pants.
He’s still dad, though, so he gets up on shaky legs instead and tries to wag a finger at him, swaying slightly. Something about sleeping enough so they can react quickly tomorrow and no sex while drunk. Like they aren’t both smashed. Dean tries to whine up at him and crawl closer, indicates his boner with his chin. But dad carefully places the glass of bourbon on the couch cushion – spilling it – and reiterates that “A boner is not a medical condition. I hope I’ve drilled this into you enough.”
Voice slurry but legible, he just bends down and picks Dean up, his whole world swirling and swaying, squeaking a bit at the sudden change. Missing his opportunity to ask his father to drill his boner into him harder.
Dad walks them to the huge shower room in his tipsy gait, places Dean down and explains how cold showers help with alcohol. Except they agree they’re both going in, so after a clumsy fight with their clothes they just turn on the hot water and forget about it.
Dad’s warm fuzzy body, big and soft against his own, dad’s tipsy voice in his ear, purring and goading. Mean pinches to his ass and careful attention to his tits, dad’s eyes more focused on them than anything else he’s capable of at the moment. They’re kissing and they’re grinding against each other and dad’s chuckling, Dean’s vision blurry and eyes filled with water. He grabs at dad’s ass and then at his belly, giggles when he engulfs his cock between both palms. Too big to fit in one, daddy!
He’s rolling it around and playing with it, hot and throbbing in his hands and dad’s undivided glazed-over attention is on him, heavy over his shoulders and flushing his cheeks, making him feel small. He’s shyly eyeing him in one second and pressed into the corner the next – bathroom tile digging into his shoulders, ass smooshed on the corner, dad’s solid body pushing him harder into it. He’s got that mean smirk on him and a tilt to his head, kissing Dean like he’s studying him. A hand pinching his tit rough and the other sneaking between them…
The shower head that was just used to gently rinse his hair and caress his shoulders is now aimed at his belly. Steady in dad’s grip even with the alcohol on his breath. Dean looks down at it confused, head a little shaky as he watches dad’s other hand move to his hip and then grab at his upper thigh, trying to pry it open.
“So… one more thin’ about cunnies you dunno…”
He’s got a nasty laugh and a nastier grin, eyes open wide and smushed up by his cheeks. Fuck but he’s out of it if he’s talking to Dean like that, spreading his legs and slurring obscenity on his face. It’s making him twitch, his cheeks and shoulders burning, like he wasn’t soaking wet already. And not just from the shower, he giggles and goes on his toes to kiss his dad, thank him for making him feel good…
Dad kisses back rough and biting, growl in his chest, underneath Dean’s hand. He squeaks and the shower’s aimed between his legs, right up on his pussy. It feels good, hot and tickly, pleasant soft massage… He’d always guessed this was some myth made up for porn not–
Dad tells him to keep his legs open, baby, and sneaks his now free hand higher. Up to his folds and touching, thick fingers not shying away. It’s much better than the water already, real and corporeal, dad’s igniting touch… Opening him up, soft outer labia pushed aside and revealing his slick insides, twitching little clit directly under the stream of water.
His hips buck on their own and his head lulls back against the walls, grunt and sigh and dad’s lips on his neck, There you go and a breathy laugh. It’s a weird sensation, like touch but not quite, warm as skin but not alive. Constant equal pressure, again and again, right against him but unable to give more…
He whines and clenches at dad’s biceps, begs him for one thing or another. A middle finger slips inside him unapologetically and it’s almost enough, almost. Nice and thick and filling, its brothers still holding him open for the shower head. It’s down to the knuckles and Dean’s moaning for it, thrusting his hips, deeper, faster, please…
Dad actually shushes him and clicks his tongue, keeps the finger slow but cants the showerhead a little. Different feeling, different… texture, ghost of a texture in the moving heat. But so far from anything solid it’s maddening. The finger holds his entrance open and sopping but mostly just sits there, barely any thrust or movement, a soft slow glide like a pet to his back, like being rocked to sleep as a baby not goddamn fucked…
So he moans and begs and whines, all his best with a hazy head up at dad, who just chuckles and chuckles and bites him and shakes his head and tells him “You ain’t got a dick anymore, puppyboy.”
His back arches and he keens, finger deeper and moving inside him, water at a different angle, fuck, but that’s a new nickname, it’s cute, he’s cute… the world is pulsing a little and dad’s whispering in his ear.
“You don’t get to thrust your hips like that. Let dad do the work.”
Fuck but his knees are week and he’s sinking lower, dad’s nasty laugh at his own words, thick whiskey breath on his face and Dean’s hands are shaking on him, dad’s own legs wobbly, leaning onto Dean to lean onto the wall.
There’s a high-pitched whining sound coming out of him and the shower stream is merciless in its constancy, unchangeable pressure right over his clit, promising more but never giving, no solidity, no follow up to its warmth. And dad’s fucking soaking his finger in him, poking around inside him but not doing anything, cockwarming but it’s his hand. He’s whining, his head is filled with cotton, heavy and unyieldy, his own breaths labored. He’s reaching for dad, solid against him, the only harbor “Yeah, tha’s right, baby, hold onto me, yeah…”
Grabbing onto his neck and onto his shoulders, smushing his face against dad’s. No mercy, just slow exhilarating pressure, barely enough stimulation, hazy vision and hollow belly, pussy at attention and pulsing, but not enough, not enough, just eternally at the edge, at that goddamn edge…
“You gotta learn to slow down, babygirl – “ fucking hot, holy shit, his thighs are trembling, tits so fucking sensitive it feels like dad’s actually fucking them, smushed against his chesthair… a chuckle at his reaction and then doubling down, kissing his neck, even more paternal and nasty tone, schooling him “can’t have everything you want quick and nasty, the moment you need it.”
A kiss to his cheek almost soft but for dad’s scratchy beard, the bourbon cloud that is his breath, a lick to his jaw, outright nasty, his thighs held open by dad’s wide palm alone, knees completely surrendered their functions to his arms – hanging on dad’s body. Slow penetration and the sound of the water hitting the floor, passing by his pussy on its way. Tingling in his ears, twitching in his clit, if dad just moved his hand a bit, or the shower head, or anything–
“Spoiled little princess.”
Loud and clear, tone accusatory and lecherous, serious but with that languid cant of the drunk, a knowing smirk hidden behind it. It’s the finality of it that does him in, the conclusion – selfish little brat wants to be done, won’t let his daddy play with him. But he does, he does, until he’s sobbing and begging and fucked raw, over and over, he’s whining and bucking and coiling, there’s tears in his eyes and he’s trying to meet dad’s. The merciless water over him and the slow finger and dad’s shiny green eyes, squished in an expectant smile and he’s done, he’s trembling and squeaking and his pussy is clenching and trembling for barely anything, the sensations not even bothering to change a little for his orgasm, slow down or move or hurry it the fuck up, nothing, just the constant sameness more and more and he’s bucking into dad again and exhaling on a moan, his lips on his forehead and calling him a Good boy, good job, there you go, kiddo…
There’s a clank on the floor as dad drops the showerhead carelessly in order to hold him, back of his head and petting his hair, his waist as he’s held up and the palm on his pussy finally, finally, mashes into it and rubs it good. Rough and powerful, pulsing squelches, Dean’s back arched and mouth unclosable, dad’s lips sucking on his neck, rubbing harder to get him through it, deep wet kiss on the lips as he comes down.
Dad lets him get his feet on the floor slowly and flashes him his nasty grin, pinches his ass rough with a wink. Then guides him by the waist out to the towels, ruffles his hair and kisses his forehead, the lights way too bright for Dean to keep his eyes fully open – pinpricks and pain in his head. He’s swaying on the spot as he stands and waits for dad to fuss over him, coo at him and wrap him in a huge towel, thick and heavy over his head, around his entire body.
Dad’s drunken watery eyes and his soft lips as he gently picks him up again and with wobbly feet deposits him onto a counter. Holds onto a wall for stability as he wipes himself down just enough not to wet the carpets and then fumbles with a t-shirt and sweatpants, finally getting them on and staring back at Dean. With some kind of adoration, some kind of borderline religious devotion, arms stretched and body honed onto him, wobbly but determined pace, overwhelming albeit drunken desire to hold his child in his hands.
Dean’s picked up and cooed at, rubbed into towel between dad’s biceps, carried to the bedroom and showered with praise and adoration. His head is swirling more and more, neck lulled and useless, able only to smile back at dad and show his appreciation, beg for soft kisses with puckered lips, pet with numb fingers.
Between the alcohol and the heat of the shower and the endless teasing of a slow orgasm and the merciless rutting of a fast one directly afterwards… Between dad’s affections and his lechery, his softness and his nasty grins… his love and his drunkenness. It’s too much – Dean’s laid on the bed and he’s almost out entirely. Just the rough softness of the towel around him and the plush comforter under it. Dad’s huge certain hands over him, rubbing him dry and petting him, ruffling his hair with the towel to shake the water out of it. Dipping into his pits and over his bellybutton, over his tits and squish into his butt, making him giggle softly, tired.
Kisses over his face, little nips to his jaw and dad’s pink cheeks when he blinks his eyes open, his smile, his own soft gaze. The lights are out but he can’t keep them open for long, every blink a little longer, a little more tempting with rest, his body languid and secure in his father’s arms. His head is held between warm palms and his nose is kissed, rubbed with dad’s own, coos of my cute little boy, and rest up, and I’ll take care of you, baby and he’s sighing to sleep, head empty and black, fuzzy and warm, limbs limp and uncontrollable, his whole core soft and melting and…
And dad’s thick hard dick is suddenly between his folds, pushing insistently in, no stopping, no consideration, just a constant push to carve its way inside of him, wedge so deep, push his organs around and nest, take what it can…. His back arches automatically and he whines and whines, holds onto dad with his last strength but dad’s soft over his face, little coos and shushes, soft kisses.
Dad’s hands petting his cheek and his hair, tucking strands behind his ears, dad kissing his freckles and his lips, soft little puppy licks, his bulky body rubbing Dean’s soft limp one into the mattress, along with the towel he’s wrapped up in, hands tucking it in gently, securing it around his body. Long hard thrusts, thick fat cock in and out of his sopping pussy, bulging his belly and scraping his insides, his nipples tingling on fire. Heavy hands over his sides, petting his soft tits, over his thighs, Puppyboy… daddy’s gonna make you feel good…
The bed is shaking like a slow earthquake, Dean’s entire world with it, the ceiling swimming underwater when he tries to open his eyes, everything he is a soft lump of pleasure, filled and caressed, adored, desired, used…
His mouth is open and his neck is craned backwards, then there’s wet softness under his cheek and the back of his head is spinning and almost painful, dad’s hands are digging into his softness, his cock is dragging along his insides, insistent and unstopping, dad’s fuzzy body caressing his inner thighs, tickling and warm and his belly clenches and dips and he can feel the dick on his belly, under his skin, sucking it in and he’s –
The world goes even blacker somehow and there’s stars or fireworks behind his eyes, bright and painful and then twinkling slowly out of existence, he’s barely aware his body is being rocked and thrust into, limp and languid, warmth in his belly and a softness in his chest. Dad’s kissing his neck and his shoulder and cooing at him, his big heavy body covering Dean’s, a liquid heat trickling down between his asscheeks. Dad’s still tense and twitching, still filling him up, tight in a bear hug over the towel, rocking him slightly with his pulses. Dean’s mostly asleep when he’s finally done with a kiss to his forehead, cradling him up and supporting his head like a baby, dick digging further inside of him, crawling up the bed clumsy but determined. Dean in his hands the most important thing to hold onto, to protect, not to let slip or smack through the haze of his senses.
Dad deposits them onto the soft feather pillow and under the huge warm comforter, hands clumsy but determined, dreamy grin on his face and his eyes lidded, trying to stick closed on every blink, eyelashes pretty and fluttering. He nestles his face into Dean’s neck after a chaste puppy kiss to his lips and to his nose, his cheek on the way down. Lips wet and moving, murmuring something into his skin, already asleep. The world is twisting again before Dean’s eyes, dad’s body heavier than he’s ever felt it on top of him, hands holding him fast and dick splitting him open, even softening and comforting as it is inside, pulsing with their heartbeat and transferring their warmth from core to core.
Dad’s snoring lightly in his ear, whiskey thick breath tickling, the ceiling and the window are twisting and cantering, Dean’s head along with them, silky strands of hair over the towel and into dad’s face. He’s cozy tight into an iron grip, dad’s hip between his own, hot and heavy, wedged deep, stiff body immovable. Not that he would try. He just wraps a leg around dad’s, clenches his pussy experimentally into the soft thick cock inside of it. Cozy, trapped and safe, solid and real and the world is swirling and his head hurts but he laughs for it and turns to kiss dad’s temple, pulls him closer, deeper. He’s asleep before thinks of closing his eyes against the undulating picture of reality, dad’s hair soft against his cheek.