Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4757408.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Daddy_Kink, Spanking, Corporal_Punishment, Wincest_-_Freeform, Weecest,
      Anal_Sex, Underage_Sex, stand_and_carry
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-08 Words: 2782
****** Sorry, Daddy ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Sam is punished by John for leaving his post at night, but Dean
     doesn't think Sam's quite learned his lesson. He decides another sort
     of punishment is needed...
Sam passed him for the hundredth time, slick with sweat and following his own
footsteps in the barren Wyoming dirt. Sam trotted around their backyard like a
show pony. Back straight, legs up, one, two, three, one, two, three. And Dean
thought it would have been funny too, if only Sam’s face wasn’t so damn ugly.
Frowning, eyebrows knitted together like his face was being sucked into the
center of itself. But then again, Dean was used to that look.
“Keep it together kiddo, only five more minutes!” He called out as
encouragement. Not that Sam appreciated it. He didn’t even acknowledge Dean’s
thumbs up and stupid face when he passed by again.
That made one-hundred-and-one.
Dean relaxed against a fence post and watched Sam go around.
His little brother was being punished with physical exertion. Ordered to run
around their dirt backyard for thirty minutes with weights in both hands and
strapped to his legs. It was their father’s way of trying to drill a lesson
into each of their heads. Don’t want to do this again? Then stop fucking up.
But their dad was busy trying to gank a Skinwalker right now, didn’t have time
to stick around and make sure that Sam was very very sorry for scaring the shit
out of the both of them. So that task fell on Dean, as everything involving
Sam, inevitably did.
If only his little brother could accept his punishment and move on. It wasn’t
like Sam was being singled out or anything. Dean had run laps like this plenty
of times, and now he could go thirty minutes without ever breaking a sweat! But
Dean also understood John’s motivations. Because fear makes you hard, the fear
of losing everything you’ve ever known, and Winchesters know that fear well. So
John was hard on them because he was scared for them, that was something Dean
could understand, as he watched Sam run around in circles. The thought of
losing his little brother made him nauseous. Dean would rather tear Sam limb
from limb himself than let him die at the hands of some Skinwalker. So Dean
happened to agree with John, this time, that Sam ought  to learn a thing or
two.
“Time!” Dean called. He hit the button on the top of his stopwatch and waved to
his brother to come back.
Sam slowed his gait, jogged a few more paces before coming to a stop. He took
several deep breaths before heading back towards the house, back towards Dean.
“Not bad,” Dean greeted him. “You barely broke a sweat.”
Sam, drenched, glowered at him. “Ha,” he said dryly, before ripping the towel
from his brother’s hand and wiping the sweat from his face.
“You held up fine,” Dean said, honest now. “This was more like a slap on the
wrist, anyways. You didn’t have to dig a grave by yourself in the rain and the
mud.”
Dean twisted the cap off a water bottle he had been saving and handed it to
Sam. That was an awful night but he recalled it with a sort of pride, an
ultimate trump card to stop Sammy from whining. Not that it ever worked.
“This is different,” Sam protested. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Sam accepted the water bottle, drank about half, and then poured the rest over
his face. Dean watched the water dribble down Sam’s neck, and chest with
particular interest.
“Dad’s been tracking this thing across two states, and it was your turn to keep
watch,” Dean reminded him. “You left your post, and youknow this thing is
dangerous, Sam. I mean what would have happened if-”
“Okay, okay!” Sam said, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. “Monsters.
Danger. Don’t let the family down. I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” But Sam didn’t look at him while he tore off the weights from his wrists
and ankles and dropped them in the dust.
“Sam-”
“-I’m taking a shower.” Sam interrupted, and marching across the dying summer
grass, he disappeared into the house.
Dean followed.
~~~~
“I mean where does he get off treating us like we’re soldiers and not his
sons?” Sam exclaimed as he tore off his shirt and dumped it on to their shared
bed.
Dean sat on the edge of their mattress watching his brother strip. It would
have been erotic, if only Sam could shut the fuck for one second. Fat chance.
“Well what do normal dads do anyways?” Dean asked. “Beat their kids with a belt
till their black and blue? I don’t see how that’s a better alternative.”
Sam looked down at him with a wrinkled face. “What are you talking about?
That’s not normal.”
Dean scoffed. “Yeah well, not for the kids I’ve known, Sammy.”
Sam was naked, holding his shorts in his hand and staring at Dean like he’d
told him monsters were real for the first time. Dean felt like he was always
busting up Sam’s dreams of the perfect American-pie life.
“Well I um...I’m sure that’s an extreme example,” Dean said, quickly
backtracking. “Most of them probably just, like...spank their kids, or
something?”
Sam thought about that, and he seemed less shocked. “...I still don’t agree
with that,” he concluded and dumped his shirt on the bed, retreating into the
bathroom to take a shower.
“Oh yeah, Sammy?” Dean called after him. “You don’t get turned on by a little
ass-slapping?”
Sam smiled. “Shutup,” he shot back, and turned on the shower.
Dean listened for the familiar sounds of Sam climbing in, shutting the curtain,
humming a little Pearl Jam to himself. And then he sighed, and laid back on the
bed.
As the shower droned on, Dean’s mind wandered back to the panic he’d felt when
he’d heard John shouting for Sam last night. He’d thought the worst, of course.
Because there were rarely best-case scenarios when you hunted things that went
bump in the night. But it turned out Sam was on the roof the whole time. Doing
what, he’d never had a chance to ask. Staring at the stars? It didn’t matter.
John laid into him with the same anger and fear that Dean felt. Maybe Sam
thought it was unfair that Dean stood aside and never intervened in their
shouting matches: father and son. Or maybe Sam was just used to him picking
sides, even if Dean didn’t think of it like that. But whatever the case, the
lesson hadn’t sunk in yet.
This wasn’t first time Sam had slipped away from his post or done something
else John had termed “dangerous”. Every time Sam messed up, John would punish
him like a drill sergeant: run fifty laps, drop and give me thirty. But while
it had worked on Dean (yes sir, no sir, won’t happen again sir) it had only
pushed Sam deeper into some kind of entrenched rebellion. And now Dean had a
new recurring nightmare. Not only to find that he couldn’t stop some monster
from killing his brother, but that he couldn’t stop Sam from leaving of his own
free will.
Dean heard the water shut off, Sam done with his shower. His brother walked
back into their room with a towel around his waist, removed it, and then
started to dry his hair. Dean watched beads of water roll down Sam’s stomach,
getting caught in the small patch of hair above his dick. Sam was filling out,
getting taller, more muscular and on top of that more moody. Dean wondered what
happened to the lanky little kid that used to cling to him under the sheets
every night?
“I wonder if a spanking would work on you?” Dean mused.
“What?” Sam laughed.
“Yeah,” Dean said. He sat up on the bed now, like he’d gotten a brilliant idea.
“You know, like I said Sammy. You want to be normal so much. Maybe it’ll do you
some good.”
Sam dropped his towel on the bed, shook his damp hair. “Spankings are for three
year olds, Dean.”
He said it like Dean was three years old himself, but that didn’t deter his
brother. Dean bounced off the bed and hovered over Sam’s body, naked, and wet.
“Still a kiddo to me, baby brother.” He teased, reaching out to pinch Sam’s
ass.
But Sam smacked his hand away. “That’s because you’re a perv,” he dismissed.
“And because you watch too much porn.”
Dean frowned, shaking his hand. But he didn’t back off, he already had the idea
in his head. “Well, what if I think you deserve it?”  
And then Dean lunged forward, grabbing Sam’s hips and pressing his crotch into
the smooth crack of Sam’s ass. It was a joke, mostly, but Sam’ knees knocked
together and he lost his balance, falling on to the bed, ass in the air.
Dean let go of Sam when he fell. He paused, was going to ask if Sam was okay,
but then he saw Sam laid out before him on the bed and Dean couldn’t help but
examine the pale skin of his brother’s ass, the faint pink of his hole, balls
dangling between his legs. He bit his lip. This was a rare opportunity. But
should he?
Sam writhed as he began pushing himself back off the bed, his ass shaking
obscenely. Dean slapped him square across the ass.
Sam froze, momentarily stunned by the stinging sensation across his skin. “D-
Dean!” he stuttered. “What-”
But then there was another smack, and another. Sam stopped asking why and
started crawling forward on the bed to get away from them. But Dean said “nuh-
uh” and pulled him backwards.
Sam collapsed back on to the mattress, hips hanging off the edge. He pushed
himself up, and tried to escape that way, but Dean gripped him by the wrists
and pulled his arms behind his back, effectively pinning him to the bed. Sam
twisted to his right, and then to his left, but with no luck. His older brother
had him trapped.
“Dean, quit it!  What do you think you’re-”
Another smack, and another. Each time Sam tried to escape Dean would slap his
ass twice as hard. Sam yelped. He was humiliated. Dean was actually spanking
him!
“Stop it,” Sam pleaded. “Dean!”
“Nope,” Dean said, another slap on his rear. It added a nice red mark to his
brother’s pale skin. Dean’s palm print in duplicate. “I’m not gonna stop until
you’re sorry for what you did, Sammy. And I want a nice, pretty, apology for it
too.”
“But I didn’t-”
Another smack cut him off.
“I can do this aaaaall night!”
Sam groaned, but offered no apology, so Dean continued. The heavy, stinging
blows subsided, replaced by lighter but more frequent slaps. After awhile, he
even developed a rhythm based on one his favorite Zeppelin songs. And every so
often he would pause to give Sam a break, knead his aching cheeks and ask “Are
you ready to say sorry?” to which Sam would reply “fuck off”, and then the
cycle continued.
But there were sure signs that Sam’s defenses had started to relax. For one, he
quit biting his tongue, which let Dean hear his pretty little cries. Only a few
were from pain, like when he tried to break free, but that had stopped, and the
rest were soft whimpers, slowly degrading into moans. That’s how Dean knew his
pain-in-the-ass little brother was coming around.
Oh and Sam’s swollen cock was another good clue.
“Are you sorry?” Dean quizzed for the tenth time. Only this time Sam nodded.
Yes, he was sorry. Progress! “Then I want to hear you say it,” Dean insisted.
“M’sorry,” Sam said, lips and mouth muffled by wrinkled sheets.
Dean pulled them back, ran his thumb over Sam’s mouth. “What was that?”
“Sorry!” Sam repeated.
“Sorry for leaving your post?” Dean asked, finishing the question with another
slap.
“Yes,” Sam moaned.
“Sorry for scaring the shit out of me and then acting like it’s no big deal?”
Sam was silent for a beat and Dean raised his hand as a threat. Then he heard
Sam whisper “Sorry, daddy.”
Dean shuddered, suddenly light-headed. “Oh baby boy,” he sighed. “Say that
again.”
“I’m sorry, daddy,” Sam panted, wriggling his hips and sticking his ass in the
air so Dean could see the marks he had put there.
Dean touched Sam reverently. “Of course you are baby, of course you are.” He
kissed Sam on his cheeks, could feel the heat of Sam’s aching ass under his
lips. “Gonna make it up to me though aren’t you?”
Sam nodded and Dean let go of Sam’s wrists. He moved to his knees and spread
his little brother open. He heard Sam hum pleasantly as he dragged the tip of
his tongue along the rim his asshole, and then shoved it inside. Sam moaned.
Dean ate him, lapping and sucking. With saliva alone Dean could insert at least
one finger inside of his brother, up to the knuckle.
“Good boy,” Dean praised as he watched Sam’s saliva-slicked hole clench and
relax with anticipation. “But your punishment isn't over. Not gonna be that
nice to you, little boy.”
Sam made a pretty little noise as Dean casually stuck another finger inside of
him.
“I’m gonna punish your hole now,” he explained. “Gonna fuck you till you can’t
sit down for a week.”
“Dean-”
Dean patted his ass firmly, removing his fingers. “C’mon,” he coaxed. “Get on
the bed.”
Sam hesitated but then he stood up and laid on the bed, on his back. He knew
what Dean wanted. He shifted his hips and pulled his legs back, presenting
himself to Dean, who had already unwrapped a generously lubed condom and was
sliding it over his cock.
Sam lifted his head warily. “You’re not gonna...just stick it in?”
“Yup,” Dean said, positioning himself against Sam. “It’s not punishment if you
enjoy it too much is it?” Dean grunted, and entered his little brother.
“Aah!” Sam groaned. His head fell back on to the sheets, his face pinched
together, then relaxed.
Dean eased inside of him, allowing Sam to adjust and gently tugging at Sam’s
dick to mitigate the pain. Sam took measured breaths and focused on relaxing.
Slowly, he could feel Sam accommodating him.
“You okay little boy?” Dean asked, breathy and aroused like crazy.
Sam nodded, eyelashes fluttering. Dean leaned over and kissed Sam’s lashes, his
nose, his lips, letting Sam taste himself on Dean. Sam kissed back greedily,
wrapping his arms and legs around his brother like he was trying to pull Dean
closer to him, inside him. Dean pushed his hands through Sam’s hair, down his
neck, and under his back. They continued to kiss as Dean rocked his hips
against Sam, slowly sliding in and out.
“There you go baby boy, you can take it,” Dean murmured into Sam’s mouth. “Such
a good boy for me aren’t you? For your daddy?”
“No,” Sam disagreed. “I’ve been bad.”
“That’s right,” Dean chuckled, and he began fuck Sam with hard, deep thrusts.
Slow, at first, enjoying the cries he could fuck out Sam when he drove his cock
in punishingly deep. But then his control started to wane. Dean fucked harder,
faster. The bed creaked, and his balls slapped against Sam’s still-red ass. Sam
was hanging around his hips and around his neck like he was hanging on for dear
life.
Then Dean slid one hand down Sam’s lower back and with a grunt he picked Sam
up. “Hang on to me Sammy,” Dean said, and Sam locked his ankles, tightened his
grip.
Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and walked him to the other side of the room
until his brother’s back touched the wall. Sam leaned against it for support,
but his arms and legs were still wrapped around Dean. And Dean continued to
fuck him standing up, using the wall as support.
“Never let go Sammy, you hear me? Never let go.” Dean instructed, as he thrust
inside of Sam. His little brother bounced up and down on his cock, staring
right into his eyes. Dean’s head started to swim, his muscles ached, he knew he
was close to coming.
“Aahh! Dean!” Sam cried out, as Dean kept going. “Dean I can’t, I can’t-”
“Never let go little boy, never, never.” And then Dean came, pressing them both
against the wall as he spilled inside of Sam with a shuddering moan. Dean
panted, the weight of Sam draped over him making his legs shake. But he forced
his body to stay, fingers digging into Sam’s thighs because he was the one who
refused to let go.
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