Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1560872.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester/John_Winchester/Sam
      Winchester, Dean_Winchester/John_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Dry_Humping, Orgasm_Delay/Denial, puppy!Dean, Dom!Sam, Dean_as_Duke,
      Sam's_Birthday, Birthday_Presents, top!John, top!dean, bottom!Dean,
      Bottom!Sam, Spanking, Training, Anal_Sex, Rough_Sex, Threesome_-_M/M/M,
      Puppy_Play, Breeding, not_bestiality, Cock_Rings, PWP, Plot_What_Plot/
      Porn_Without_Plot
  Series:
      Part 8 of Holidays_with_the_Wincesters
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-02 Words: 3680
****** Horn-Dog (A Wincest Birthday) ******
by MothMeetsFlame
Summary
     It's Sam's birthday. John has a surprise for him. Dean isn't much one
     for impulse control, and that's just the way Sam likes it.
     (now extended!)
Notes
     WARNING: Underage. Sam turns 13 in this fic, and there are
     implications of much younger frottage. Also contains incest, light
     BDSM, and animal/pet play. No likey, no clickey. Seriously though, if
     you don't like this shit, now's the time to hit that back button and
     pretend this never existed.
     June '14: Yay! I promised an extend version, and here it is! It's
     much later than I thought it would be, but I hope everyone enjoys ;)
See the end of the work for more notes
“What about Dean?” Sam asked.
John practically had to shove him out of the doorway and into the Impala
himself, his youngest wouldn’t move. “He’s staying home sick today.”
“Oh,” Sam said, disappointed. Then he got it. “Oh. You’re taking him on a
Hunt.”
“Yeah,” John said gruffly, avoiding eye contact so he wouldn’t have to see the
look of disappointment on his son’s face.
“Oh.” His voice wasn’t cheerful, not by a long shot, but it wasn’t as gloomy
either.
John dropped Sam off at the front of the school and hightailed it out of there,
driving as quickly as he could to Dean. There was a lot for them to do before
Sam was out for the day.
 
 
 
 
Sam walking through the door was music to Dean’s ears. He saw his father’s
large grin and was off, bounding as quick as he could to the door to greet him.
Sam wasn’t even inside of the hotel long enough to drop his backpack before
Dean was on him, pawing greedily at his shirt. Dean whined, quick little
whimpers that showed his eagerness in a way even his outfit didn’t.
“Duke,” John ordered. “Down.”
Dean didn’t listen, didn’t care enough to. He’d been on edge too long. John
hadn’t even waited until Sam was out the door, on his way to school, before he
began toying with him, slicking up his fingers and toying with Dean just enough
to stretch him for his tail plug. It had been a great experience… for the first
hour. After that, though, it was too much, overwhelming really, to have John
play with him without even the promise of release.
Still, Dean tried.
His tail wagged insistently, nearly succeeding in pressing against his
prostate, but it just wasn’t enough. His collar was two rungs too tight—high
necked sweaters weren’t his thing generally, but it was late enough in the
season that he could pull it off—his mitts kept him from properly stroking
himself, and that goddamn cock ring wouldn’t allow him to come.
Sam, though, could provide him with the torturous friction he craved like a
drowning man craved water.
Sam’s leg was still clothed, but the jeans were smooth and not anywhere even
close to dirty with how big of a clean freak his brother was, despite having
been at school all day.
Dean was on him in seconds, pressing his straining cock against his brother’s
leg and, ohgod, it felt so good to finally have something to rut against. His
cheek pressed itself against Sam’s thigh, and his mouth parted, panting in
short gasps as pleasure rose inside of him, only to be held off by the thin
cock ring strangling his erection.
The tug on his collar pulled him from the sensation. “Duke.” John’s voice was
hard. “Down.”
With a small whimper, Dean followed, knowing that resistance would cause him to
be wounded—human necks weren’t as strong as dog necks were, couldn’t hold up to
a pulled collar—and he knew that that wasn’t the point of this game, even
though he really did like the welts and bruises he was sure to have later from
its tightness.
Oh, yeah, he was gonna be a bad dog.
Now, though, was a time for obedience. He trotted to his father’s side and
kneeled readily. He watched as Sam’s eyes roamed his body, pausing on the stiff
cock that bobbed slightly against his belly button every time he moved.
“Dad?” Sam asked. Dean could see the cock hardening in his brother’s pants, but
Sam was studiously ignoring it, still curious as to what the hell was
happening. “What the hell?”
Dean stifled a shiver at how deep Sam’s voice had gotten and grinned, still
panting with the effort of not tackling and taking Sam right then and there.
John was grinning from ear to ear, Dean knew. He didn’t have to see it to know.
It was the same stupid grin he’d been wearing when he woke Dean up and clipped
the collar on.
“Happy birthday, Sam,” John said.
Dean yipped, and rolled over onto his back, keeping his arms tucked close to
his chest, writhing this way and that, letting his cock strike against his
thighs and the plug force itself in deeper with the pressure, his hole
stretching wider around the tail where the thickest part was forcing itself in.
He was a show off, so sue him.
Sam sucked in a breath, surely enjoying the sight. He was slack-jawed, and Dean
was sure he didn’t imagine the twitch in Sam’s pants.
Then Sam smiled. “A puppy?”
John nodded. “Thought you might wanna know what it’s like to be on the
receiving end.”
Sam’s eyes went wide, but his smile got bigger. He patted his legs. “C’mere,
boy.”
And Dean was up in an instant, not holding back anymore.
Sam landed flat on his ass, but Dean ignored the short hiss of surprise,
choosing instead to lick at Sam’s face, tasting the salty sweet of his
brother’s skin. He ravished his brother’s mouth, licking his way inside and
nipping at his lips, loving the way Sam moaned around him.
He whimpered again, wanting, needing more, but the damn mitts wouldn’t let him
even unclothe his brother’s cock for him to taste. He had to make do with Sam’s
mouth, wet and warm against his, but not the right wet, not the right warm.
It was unfair, it really was.
Dean didn’t care, though. If it had been this morning, he would have been more
than happy to play this game, but John was an expert in getting him this way,
turning him into such a goddamn cockslut that he couldn’t wait for his brother
to grab his mouth and force it open with the thickness of his cock, fill him up
and then just take him with a vigor that would have him feeling it for days—not
that that was really John’s fault so much as it was Dean’s, especially when it
came to his brother.
Dean pressed himself over Sam, pinning him to the ground beneath him and,
ohgodSammy, rubbed his unclothed cock against Sam’s. It was pain. It was
pleasure. It was the sweetest mixture of both, and Dean couldn’t help but
thrust his hips in line with Sam’s so he could feel it.
It wasn’t long before Sam was moaning a litany of curses as Dean was huffing
into his mouth, wanting to keep licking but not able to with the
toomuchohsogood friction. Sam’s body tensed completely and he let out a yell,
straining as his orgasm was wrenched from him, Dean still happily providing the
contact he needed.
When his brother’s muscles relaxed in a haze of the afterglow, Dean nearly
groaned, wanting to continue his rut, but not wanting to cause him any pain
from the overstimulation of his sensitive cock.
It was second nature now to express his displeasure at not being allowed his
own release. Soft whimpers escaped his throat while he pawed at Sam’s torso,
trying to draw attention to his neglected cock. Dean shook with need, but he
couldn’t to do anything about it for now. From the fucked out expression on
Sam’s face, he wasn’t going to do anything about it either.
Dean nestled into Sam’s side, licking sensuously at his neck. His brother’s
fingers wrapped around him to scratch at his head, parting his hair with a
light scrape of fingernails. It was heaven, and Dean was perfectly content in
that moment to ignore his own straining erection in favor of just enjoying the
sensation.
“Good boy,” Sam whispered.
Dean huffed in response. He could feel Sam rebounding through his come-soaked
jeans. Officially becoming a teenager was doing wonders for the kid’s libido.
John chuckled. “You know,” John said conversationally, knowing just what kind
of reaction he was going to get. “The tail vibrates.”
It didn’t take long for Sam to pull himself up off of the floor after that.
Unfortunately for Dean, it was going to be a while before he was allowed to
come. That thought in mind, he whined.
“Hush, boy,” Sam said in a commanding tone that Dean didn’t even know his
brother possessed.
Dean couldn’t help it, though. The rising tide inside of him was at the brink,
and he needed more, needed whatever Sam could give him. Hell, he was so on edge
he was sure that, if they’d asked, he wouldn’t have hesitated to take them
both. His low whines increased in volume, broadcasting his thoughts the only
way he could.
“Looks like he could use some training,” John observed.
Dean whined again at the thought.
Sam’s grin showed only briefly at the thought before it turned stern. He
disappeared into the kitchen, the sight of him blocked by John’s solid frame,
and returned moments later, a rolled-up newspaper in hand.
“I said hush, boy,” Sam said, swatting him once on the rear.
Dean yipped in surprise, a sound he planned on denying wholeheartedly, when
another smack followed. Then came three more.
“No whining,” Sam said, the strikes firm on the sensitive flesh of his ass, but
not so bad that he was overdoing it. After two dozen—and damn that newspaper
was thick—Dean felt the pricking of tears at his eyes, but he held them off,
tucked into the back of his mind right along with the whining.
He could have kept going if he wanted. Hell, his erection hadn’t flagged in the
slightest, but the thought of delaying his orgasm once again wasn’t even an
option. As long as Sam continued plundering his ass with the newspaper, he
wasn’t even thinking about Dean coming, and that wasn’t something Dean could
tolerate.
So Dean was ready to be a good boy, just this once. He could get up to some
mischief later.
Sam’s hands were warm against his burning cheeks, touching the welts with light
strokes of his hands, making Dean shiver. The pain was exquisite, though it
didn’t do much to dull the need. He was about to whine again, but stopped
himself just in time.
“Such a pretty puppy,” Sam said reverently. “Right, Dad?”
“The prettiest,” John agreed, his own hands coming to join his son’s on Dean’s
sensitive ass.
“Pretty eyes, pretty face, pretty ass, pretty cock,” Sam listed. Then his hand
trailed lower and gave the organ a few quick pulls.
Dean couldn’t help the gasp that slid out. It had been so long since anyone had
touched him there that he couldn’t even believe for a moment that he wasn’t
imagining it. But no, it was Sam’s hand warm and steady on his aching cock,
stroking with assurance, just tight enough for it to make the tide rise again,
building the need until he almost couldn’t hold in the whimpers anymore. The
cock ring wouldn’t be enough this time, Dean thought as he reveled in Sam’s
hand on him. He was surely going to come, even with it on.
But Sam backed off, not so much dropping Dean’s cock as letting it bob back up
toward his stomach when it was released.
“Pretty lips,” John added, running his thumb over them.
Sam hummed in agreement.
“Think they’d be prettier stretched around a cock. Dontcha think, Sammy? Then
maybe you can breed your bitch up good. I’m sure he’s more than ready.”
Dean opened his eyes, surprised they’d been clenched so tight while Sam stroked
him, and peered up at his brother through thick lashes. Even with the cock ring
holding tight to the base of him, a thick bead of precome shot out at the word
breed. It was obscene. Breeding sounded so messy, filthy, animalistic,
something that should have put him off immediately... but he couldn’t deny that
it had a certain appeal.
His hole quivered around his tail plug, just wanting to be stretched and
pounded, bred.
Oh, God. Yes, he wanted to scream. Yes! But he couldn’t. He was a dog, a pup.
Good puppies didn’t speak, and he wanted very much to be a good dog now. He
didn’t doubt that only good dogs got bred.
“I don’t know, Dad,” Sam said, now playing with his tail plug, pressing it in
and out, toying absentmindedly with his prostate. Damn, Dean was seeing stars.
“I don’t really think he’s a bitch. Seems more like a stud to me. What do you
think? Think he deserves a nice, tight bitch to breed up?”
Dean couldn’t deny that his cock was completely alright with that option as
well.
“I don’t know,” John said. He parted Dean’s lips and slid two fingers inside,
getting them nice and wet before slipping them into his hole right alongside
the plug. Damn it felt good to be stretched. “He seems like a good bitch to me.
I think you’ll be surprised. Just look at the way he’s fucking himself on my
fingers.”
And he was. Dean rocked back against John’s fingers, against a stretch that
would have killed him just a few months ago, but it was pleasant now,
especially when it put John in direct contact with his prostate.
“That right, boy?” Sam asked. “You looking for a stud to fill you up? Look so
nice, your pretty hole stretched over my cock, Daddy’s cock. That what you
want? Want your studs to fuck you?”
Dean wasn’t able to hold in a whine that time. Oh fuck. Did he want them to
fuck him? OhGodyes. Fuck. His vision went grey, faded out while Sam’s fingers
slipped inside of him, right beside his father and the plug. John crooked his
finger again, and he couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much.
Dean’s eyes slipped shut again of their own volition, everything fading away
but for the feel of fingers inside of him, stretching him wider than he’d ever
been stretched while pleasure coursed through him. His upstairs brain was now
closed for business. It was time for his body to rule.
Muscles he didn’t even realize existed quivered, shivered, and flexed in tandem
with the steady movements of the two men inside of him. He arched his back,
forcing himself further and further back until the fingers were as deep as they
could go. Then he relaxed, bowed forward, relishing in the slow pull of slick
pressure. 
“I think you’re right, Dad,” Sam said, his voice shaky at the display of
wantonness that was more than rare to see from his brother.
“Yeah,” John said dumbly, barely able to get the word out.
All too soon, the fingers were gone, leaving him in a state of agony as his ass
fluttered around the plug, looking for the fingers that had brought him so much
pleasure.
Fuck, he needed release. He was so close, so goddamn close. For the first time,
tears didn’t fall from his eyes because of the pain, even though this was
torture, pure and simple. Pain was the farthest thing from his mind. It was
pleasure coursing through him, but he still couldn’t help the tears from
coursing down his cheeks. The wet trails distracted him just enough, the shock
grounding him in reality, to open his eyes and seek out that remarkable
pressure again.
“Shit. Sam stop.” John was worried at the panicked look in Dean’s eye and the
tears that were staining his cheeks.
His brother came into view then and his expression was so out of place that
Dean was nearly pulled from his mind. It only took one step, though, to put him
right back when his tail wiggled against that spotwith the movement. He froze
in place, trembling as the tail continued to wag, shocks of sensation shooting
through up his spine.
With that, he was done—done waiting, done holding back, done trying to be good.
He couldn’t do it anymore.
Sam’s concern turned to shock when Dean suddenly pressed his face against his
still-clothed cock.
Dean nuzzled the quickly hardening flesh, licking along the seam, feeling the
zipper beneath his tongue, until he came to the smooth metal of the zipper.
Hands bound beneath him, he latched on with his teeth and pulled, happy when it
didn’t take more than a second nudge to unbutton the top.
He didn’t need hands for the second part.
No matter that Sam was tall, strong. He was still only thirteen, and Dean was
much stronger. Using his arms for leverage, Dean pulled his brother to the
floor and straddled his chest when he tried to rise.
Sam kept pressing, so Dean growled, low and threatening—don’t even think about
it, portrayed easily with the simple noise.
Dean didn’t stick around to see if he’d listen or not. He latched onto the
bottom of Sam’s pant-leg with his teeth and pulled alternatively—left, right,
left, right—until they were off completely.
Sam’s cock sprung free, and Dean was thankful that he didn’t have to worry
about underwear. Unless they were lacy, satiny, or suggestive, Sam tended to
favor going commando. Dean didn’t think that it had ever been a more important
decision than it was in that moment.
Sam’s cock, though, wasn’t his goal.
His brother was right the first time. Dean wasn’t the bitch in this situation,
and from the goose bumps that spread over Sam’s thighs and the small whining
noises coming from his mouth, Dean was absolutely certain of who the bitch was
in this situation.
He licked a quick swipe over his brother’s taint, tasting a hint of the vanilla
flavored lube they’d bought just days ago. That was enough for him. Before he
even realized he’d done it, Dean twisted Sam up and around so his ass was in
the air, ready and waiting like the good bitch he was.
Dean licked again happily, loving the taste of Sam beneath the sweetness. Like
Dean before him, Sam’s back arched with the pleasure of the wet warmth against
him. Sam’s muscles rippled gently when he pointed tongue dipped into his
already prepped hole for a better taste. Just imagining the grip that the tight
stretch of muscle would have on his cock had Dean nearly whimpering again.
Without further adieu Dean lined himself up and pressed, even that much
pressure on his neglected cock making him ache in pain with a need to come like
he’d never experienced. But he pressed, forced his way into the tightness until
the entire head of his enflamed cock was in, then pressed further still.
Every inch was torture because he knew that, even though he was getting the
wonderful attention he needed for the sensitive nerves, he knew that coming was
nothing but a distant dream with the cockring keeping him constricted.
“Fuck, fuck, ohGod,” Sam cursed when he finally bottomed out.
If the feeling of slowly pressing his way into Sam was unbearable, it was
nothing compared to the feel of the tensing muscles surrounding him as his
brother went from empty to full in the space of a minute. He was so consumed by
the contact, that he didn’t notice his father at his back until his tail was
removed all at once and caressing fingers dipped inside the gaping chasm that
was left.
One finger, two, then three, and Dean wasn’t sure whether he was rutting back
and forth to feel Sam or his father. Probably both.
“Good boy, fuck, so go-od,” Sam chanted, curses mixed with praises as Dean’s
cock speared through him, abusing his prostate with every pass.
The fingers disappeared from his hole, replaced immediately with his father’s
cock. Unlike Dean, John didn’t take things slow. With one quick thrust, John
bottomed out, feeling his eldest completely surround him for the first time
with nothing more than a light whimper before he began rutting again.
After only a few minutes had passed, Dean felt the telltale sign of John’s
release as warm gushes of come flooded his system. Dean knew that John wanted
to still inside of him, but he couldn’t. Dean kept fucking into Sam, pushing
himself onto John’s cock as it shot spurt after spurt inside of him.
Finally finished, he pulled out, and Dean could feel the come drip from his
gaping hole, the muscles stretched too wide for him to keep it inside.
“DeanDeanDeanfuckfuckmeDean.” And Sam was coming too, his milky white release
spilling in thick strands onto the floor beneath him while Dean continued to
assault him.
Dean couldn’t stop, couldn’t wait, just had to keep going. Ignoring his
brother’s whines of overstimulation, he fucked harder and harder into him,
knowing that Sam would be sporting bruises from the rough treatment. And, fuck,
if that didn’t make him want to thrust harder.
John’s arm came around his waist and pulled him from the clenching tightness of
his brother’s ass. His cock bobbed back up to his stomach, so achingly painful
that more tears fell from his eyes at the loss. Dean whimpered again, low
whines making their way from his throat, begging, begging to just let him come
already.
But John wasn’t about to let his son’s present go to waste.
“Good pups don’t beg,” John said, admonishing him lightly for the action.
He brought Dean over to the bed and tossed him down lightly, fixing him into
place—the same position Sam was in not ten seconds ago. This time, though,
chains were attached to his wrists, and a leash was clipped to the D-ring on
his collar, securing him to the bed.
“Said we were gonna breed you, boy,” John said, running a hand up his back and
scratching him behind the ear. “Gotta be a good boy for Sammy, don’t you?” Then
John leaned down to whisper in his ear. “We’re gonna take turns fucking you,
Dean. All. Night. Long. You don’t get to come until your studs are done
breeding you. Now stop whining like a good bitch and get ready because we’re
not even close to done. Are we, Sammy?” he asked louder.
“Not even close,” came the breathless reply.
End Notes
     Kudos are much appreciated. Comments doubly so. Any suggestions?
     Requests? Hit me up :) Next fic will come on Father's Day.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!