Work Text:
Dean emerges from the shower naked, doesn’t see the point in putting clothes on. He climbs the bed over to John, purrs a daddy with that twinkle in his eye. Hands on him before he can even lift his head. That’s exactly why he insisted on taking separate showers.
“Dean. Please. I’m tired…” and in pain and sleep deprived for days, and driving for hours just to get here. Decent hotel at least, but Dean got a wink in the car that John can’t brag with. His body feels battered, even under Dean’s insistent hands.
“Dad, just… just a little bit… Nice and slow…” he’s kissing him so he can’t answer, John’s hand automatically on his back.
“It won’t happen, buddy…”
Dean doesn’t listen, hums a little, kisses down his chin and neck, onto his chest. John sighs and rubs his back, stares at the ceiling, “It’s not you, kiddo, I’m just exhausted I can’t…”
He’s slow but insistent, kisses over his belly deep and heavy. Tired too, his hands sinking. He’s pulling up his tanktop to look at his middle, caress his skin and happy trail, stare at him as his fingers dig lower. John rests his hands on the bed, muscles refusing to work with him, “Listen, if you manage to get it up you can do whatever you want with it. It’s yours. But it ain’t happening tonight.”
Dean gives a tired but determined smile and gets him out of his boxers, leans lower with a daring gaze. John’s belly is tightening but there’s only so much energy his body can miracle out of nowhere. He rests his head back into the pillow, shuts his eyes, feels wet tongue over his soft dick, slurping noises, gentle fingers.
Soft flesh stuffed into Dean’s throat manually, wet little slurps around it. It feels good, feels tantalizing, comfortable, lulling… He reaches down to pet his hair, give him an I told you so look.
Dean doesn’t give up, holds his gaze as his head bobs up and down, soft cock bunching up against his lips, humming a little. He’s working his mouth, his tongue, more making out with it than actually sucking it. Wet and nasty. His cock is trying its best, it really is, all tingles and pulls on the inside, but…
John sits up a little, hunched, caresses Dean’s face and lets his eyes close for a second. When he opens them back up Dean’s head is resting on his thigh, tip of his soft cock still between his lips, suckling, nursing, more for comfort than with intention. He’s dead tired too.
John clears his throat and reaches for him, pulls him back by the jaw and hair gently, rises his eyebrows at him. “Listen. One of the realities of fucking your father you’re gonna have to accept is that he’s an old man. Can’t pull off stuff like that every night. Okay?”
Dean sputters a laugh with John’s cock still in his mouth, finally pulls back and lets go of it, pleasant soft sensation gone and replaced with relatively cold air. “It feels good, though, right?”
He’s pleading, soft eyes up at him. John pets his hair, coaxes him up on the bed, “Yeah but we’re not achieving anything.”
“It isn’t always about that, right?”
“Yeah, yeah…” John lies on top of him gently, rolls over his body slow, lets his muscles adjust to a little bit more use before full rest. He wiggles his eyebrows at Dean, purses his lips for a telegraphed kiss. Dean’s eyes are laughing as he indulges him, shoves his tongue in his mouth, lets him suck on it.
“Tasty?”
“Mmhmm”
“Self-absorbed.”
Dean’s giggling still when John kisses down his body, licks at his neck and at his sternum. Suckles on his nipples, prolonged and soft, Dean’s hand in his hair, his breath soft, eyes on his lips. Separates from them reluctant, wet, dips his tongue in his bellybutton. Gives him a raspberry for old time’s sake. Dean is hard, somehow. Adrenaline and constant stress affecting him different. Younger. John remembers sleepless missions and all night work at his age. He was like this too. Kid deserves the respite that comes with orgasm.
His cock slides easy into his mouth, practiced, down to the hilt with one smooth wet motion, his teeth strictly in check tonight. His body curls off of the bed, deep groan from his chest, doesn’t even bother reaching for him, just rests back and sighs tired. Finally.
John slurps and sucks, bobs his neck as little as possible, still stiff in pain. It’s weird, probably, the way he thinks of the kid’s dick. It’s less of a virile demanding cock rutting his throat brutal and primal, less a picture of a blowjob and more… just a part of his son. Another part of his body, warm and pleasant, the part that gives him pleasure, that always feels good to touch, play with. Same feel in his mouth as his neck or his tongue, hit tits or nipples. Something to cherish, caress, please. Something that can easily choke him and make him keen, something Dean loves burying in his own ass, a source of pleasure for both. But still just Dean.
It’s slippery sweet, the way he lets it in his throat, lets it cut his breathing, swallows around it on purpose, teasing the head and humming over it. He’s more making out with it too, he realizes with a smile as he buries his nose in Dean’s pubic hair, nuzzles into it. Keeps his head and throat in motion, buzzing sideways and dipping his tongue until Dean shakes and sighs, his belly dips, too exhausted to even coil.
Most of it drips directly in his throat, down to his belly, to replace forgone dinner. He slips off intentionally a little early, lets some of his cum coat his tongue, rubs his lips over his sensitive head just to cover them in the last few drops. Dean whines, overstimulated. Makes no move to escape but John rises anyway, leans over him.
Dean’s eyes open lazy slow and sleepy, he gets the idea and breathes a laugh, pulls him into a soft deep kiss, tastes himself thoroughly. “Who’s self-centered now?”
He doesn’t give him a chance to answer apart from a sleepy laugh, manhandles him to his side and slips snug behind him, traps him between strong arms, tucks the covers tight around them both. Dean wiggles a little but accepts being spooned eventually, falls into a soft sleep. John’s eyes are heavy, muscles way overworked, finally allowed to relax. He slips right along, nose in Dean’s hair, his scent lulling him in deep restful sleep. Always cozy like this. Close. Together.
–
He wakes up in the dark with zero idea where or what he is. Only Dean in his arms a constant. Still sleeping, breathing softly, heartbeat right in John’s palm. In synch. Of course they are.
Digital clock on the sidetable tells him it’s almost six am. No rush but they could have breakfast at the hotel, leave early. He doesn’t wanna wake Dean.
He doesn’t but… He looks down to make sure, lifts the cover gently. His cock has finally caught up. Chubbed up nice and thick, inches away from Dean’s perfect butt – thigh extended forward so it pops off nicely. John presses his body forward softly, doesn’t jostle the mattress. Watches as his girth presses against bouncy cheeks, feels them smooth and soft over the base of it. He looks over at Dean’s face, restful and soft, lips lightly parted and wet in his sleep. Hands adorably clasped under his face like a kid.
He kisses his shoulder, his neck. Feather light. He can’t wake him up, not for this. Not that Dean wouldn’t be overjoyed, but… What kind of father wakes up his sleeping exhausted kid. Not that he isn’t doing worse already, but… He presses his hips tighter, feels his cock slip between his cheeks, pulls him back slightly with a hand on his side. Dean moves in his sleep, hums a little and humps back, body moving on instinct. John makes a final attempt with a quiet sigh and a kiss to the back of the neck but Dean is flat out. He snuggles between his nape and the pillow, burrows his nose in his comfort. Dozes off easily.
He’s jostled awake by Dean’s slow ruts back, soft whimpering. John pulls him back into him, kisses his shoulder. Dean grumbles a Good morning, his tone sleep tight and lazy but laced with that same tingling impatience John fought with not – the clock tells him – half an hour ago.
“It finally decided to cooperate, huh?” Dean clenches his cheeks to make his meaning clear, rubs at his eyes sleepy, almost yawns into the words. His lips are that sticky morning sweet, parting with force from each other as he talks. Words formed intentionally, pouted in concentration so his mouth would cooperate. John wants to lick it off of them.
So he does. Dean opens right up, his lips and his legs as he reaches between his own thighs and grabs at the tip of John’s cock, tries to put it in position.
“No, no, wait.” Dean whines deep, chases the kiss, John struggles to find his own voice, morning rumble. “We’re both too asleep to be careful like this. We need – Please.“
Dean grumbles but lets go of his cock, his hand. John turns to pick up the lube from the nightstand, always sure to keep one there these days. Slicks himself quick and returns plastered to Dean’s back, readjusts the covers as best he can one-handed, both of them shivering without the shared warmth.
Dean helps guide it in with a waiting hand, John’s whine at the engulfing tight heat welcoming him in uncontrollable. Dean sighs into the pillow, body completely lax. Cozies back into him when John holds his hips to sit him on it proper. Sighs and yawns, bucks back just a little, wiggles on it. John kisses his neck, his cheek, open mouthed and wet, sucking on skin but too sleepy to bite.
He thrusts up lazy slow a few times but he’s half-asleep, his kid too warm in his arms, too comforting around his dick. It’s weird, probably, how much better he feels like this. Buried deep and hitting home. Warm and tight, engulfing. Little ripples pulling him in, caressing his cock from the inside. Dean’s heartbeat and breath felt from within, with his entire body, connected, synched. Not just under his palm, part of him. Home. Safe.
He wakes back up in some minutes, Dean’s soft yawn and gentle wiggling onto his cock. Trying to get closer, deeper. Not fully awake. Their hands entwined on the bed. John smells his hair, kisses it. Pulls him close tight, a deep thrust in they both moan at and then another, remains wedged in deep as he drifts off.
Dean’s moved in his sleep, his leg higher up. John’s cock not down to the hilt anymore, its base not flush. Dean still asleep, breaths even, hair matted into the pillow, puppy cute and cozy. John massages his pec, malleable flesh right under his palm, his tits clenched between muscled biceps, perky soft. Dean doesn’t stir, smacks pink plump lips in his sleep and keeps dreaming. Familiar sight from nightly vigils. John holds his hips gentle but firm, matches his leg with his own so they’re flush, pushes him down deeper onto his cock, fills him up again, squishes his butt so he can sit as tight in as possible. Wiggles his own hips to delve in deeper, feel his guts flutter and clench around him. Holds him down for as long as he keeps awake.
John’s eyes open to see a stretching Dean, shoulders moving and arms trying to go up, yawning in earnest. He mumbles yet another Good morning, bears his hips down intentionally, sits himself better on his father’s cock. John smiles at him, reaches for a kiss, lips sticking to each other and morning lazy, slow. Caresses down and up his sides, thrusts in shallow, follows with his hand on Dean’s belly. He giggles at the touch, looks at him with sleepy but sparkling eyes, clever.
John reaches down to Dean’s dick, soft, holds it in his palm, caresses with a thumb. Dean is sighing happy, yawning more, smiling. Enjoying the moment, comfortable, just basking in their shared pleasure, the slow pleasant morning after a hell week. He feels it too, John is sure. The comfort, the depth. The security of their joined bodies. The way it feels right, fits perfect, right where they belong. Home.
They kiss slow and lazy, rut together with no real intention, no pace, no rush. Just feeling, foggy clouded minds and few thoughts, the curtain of sleep still over them. Exhaustion bone deep. They’re gonna miss breakfast but whatever. Can pick something to eat in the car. He can feel their motions slowing down, but he doesn’t care, not right now.
The sun wakes him up, right in his eyes. He feels more awake, finally fully aware. His cock is on fire, sensitive and demanding friction, whole body awake to the sensation, finally recovered enough to do and ask for more. He holds Dean tighter between his arms, feels the exact moment he wakes up and whimpers dad, calls for him, not startled but maybe confused, moaning immediately as John squishes him up and holds him in place so he can thrust into him, moan in his neck, his jaw. Dean laughs a little but doesn’t even tense up, lax and sweet, ripe for the taking, body open and ready, welcoming, asking him in, begging to milk him.
He goes slow and steady anyway, deep rocking ruts, kisses in-between. He’s half on top of Dean, their legs entwined, rocking together, rhythmic. Rhythmic like a lullaby, like rocking his baby to sleep. Like watching him cozy and safe in bed, trusting, satisfied and pleased, open shiny eyes up at him. He murmurs into him, pets him, Dean just moans soft and takes it, not a single flexed muscle, not a single unsatisfied want –
There’s a knock at the door. Cleaning crew. John can’t get his bearings fast enough, but Dean jolts up, suddenly strong and big, barks at them to go away, voice deep and scary, angry. John sits back, astonished. Dean turns to him again, sitting up but still cozy on his cock, clenched around it. Smiles all sweet, Where were we, daddy?
John laughs and hugs him in, Dean giggling too, blushing. They spend the entire morning fucking and wrestling and tumbling in bed after. Decide to allow themselves room service. Entire day lost, but it’s worth it. They both needed the reprieve.