Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/776495.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Weecest_-_Relationship, Wincest
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Spanking, daddy_dom, daddy!dean, baby_boy_sam, a_little_bit_of_water
      sports, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-27 Words: 1975
****** Such a Good Little Boy ******
by ApplePieAndHotChicks
Summary
     Sam started wetting the bed again and needed to be punished.
Sam was twelve when he started wetting the bed again. Dean was glad Sam wasn’t
sharing a bed with him or he would be beyond pissed. No pun intended. Of
course, Dean and Dad thought it was just an accident and it was more or less.
It continued for a month or two.
“Sammy, if you don’t stop,” Dean would say, “I will have to punish you.”
Sam would blush and look down. He was twelve for Christ’s sake. He didn’t need
to wet the bed anymore let alone be punished for something he had no control
over. He was practically a teenager and he surely didn’t need Dean to tell him
how to behave, “But it’s not my fault.” He retorted, feeling his ears heat up
with a foul mix of embarrassment and anger.
“Don’t make me pull you over my lap, Sammy,” Dean replied, “’Cause I sure will
do it, baby boy.”
And that was the last time Sam wet the bed. At least until he was fifteen.
 
Sam and Dean were sharing a bed. Dean was fast asleep, curled up like a cat
into his drool stained pillow. Sam was coiled up into the small of his back,
also asleep but suddenly woke up to the warm, unpleasant feeling of himself
wetting the bed. He gasped and scurried out from under the covers, “Oh god, oh
god.” He mumbled, desperately trying not to wake his big brother but to no
avail.
Also feeling the warmth and hearing Sam’s grumbling, Dean stirred, “Sammy..”
Dean was still half asleep, eyes not even opened.
“Dean, don’t tell dad, please,” Sam pleaded. He crawled out of bed and was
already undressing, prying off his soiled pants and briefs, “I’m sorry, Dean,
it was an accident, I swear.”
“Shit, Sam,” Dean groaned and rolled out of bed in a dazed stance, “Did you
really just piss yourself? I thought you were over that.” Dean got out of bed,
as well, and undressed. He was already angry enough to not care that he was
naked in front of God and Sam and everybody.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam whined, backing up slightly before he hit the wall that
was covered in peeling, floral wallpaper. He tried to hide his cock which was
twitching in interest. Sam knew what was coming and boy, was his cock excited.
Sam loved to be spanked and he really loved it when Dean did it. Stretched over
his muscular thigh and beaten by his hand or a switch or a paddle or a
hairbrush or anything really. Between Dad and Dean, his pale ass has come into
contact with a lot of things and, over the years he had grown fond of Dean
doing the dirty.
“Jesus,” Dean hissed, pulling off all the soiled sheets and covers, “I won’t
tell Dad.” A sigh of relief, “But you’re damn sure I’m going to beat this out
of you.” Sam gulped but his cock wept.
Once everything was off the mattress and into a plastic garbage bag, Dean sat
on the edge of the bed, looking beautifully pissed off, “Don’t be shy now,
Sammy.” He motioned for Sam to come closer, “If you are a good boy, I will go
easy but if you aren’t,” Dean chuckled darkly, “Well, you know.”
Sam scurried over quickly and Dean heaved him over his lap and before he knew
it, a large palm was fixated over his bare ass. The first few strikes didn’t
hurt, just a little sting, really. The smacks progressively got faster and
harder and began to really fucking hurt. Dean worked each cheek and each thigh,
too. Hitting him in every possible sensitive area.
Sam whined and tried to get away. In Dean’s free hand he seized him by the back
of his neck, “If you don’t stop,” He warned but never told what the punishment
would be. He then proceeded the brutal rain of smacks that rang out into the
small room. “Good boy.” Dean praised over and over again. Just a small part of
Dean, it was really small, he kept telling himself, loved this. Loved having
Sam naked and keening over his thigh while he was still au naturel. He also
loved the little noises Sam was trying to repress. He loved feeling Sam try
extremely hard not to squirm at all and he really liked how…Dean stopped
thinking, refusing himself to continue that thought as he tried not to notice
his growing erection.
“Please,” Sam managed to whimper, “De-D-Daddy, please stop.”
Dean did stop. His brows furrowed and he leaned towards Sam’s ear, “What did
you call me?”
“I-I didn’t call you anything,” Sam lied but he knew Dean heard him, “I’m
sorry.”
Dean grabbed his forcefully by his long hair and pulled him to the ground. He
was facing Dean between his knees. His face was framed beautifully by tear
tracks, he sniffled and looks damn gorgeous like this, “Answer me, Sammy. What
did you just call me?”
Sam looked down and whispered, “Daddy.” He sniffed, is bottom lip quivering
perhaps because he was afraid or maybe it was because he was cold. Oh well,
“I’m sorry…”
“No,” Dean replied, eyeing Sam’s throbbing cock which mirrored his own.
Something about being called ‘Daddy’. Some kinda sick and twisted taboo about
it made him want to pull Sam up and over his lap, beat his ass while Sam cried
out that name again and again and again, “Continue to call me that.”
Sam looked up to see Dean stroking himself slowly, “You want me to call you
Daddy?” He asked tensely. Dean nodded, his hand starting to work his dick
faster. Sam turned around and got on all fours and pushed his bare ass into the
air and shook it slightly, begging for Dean to spank him.
Dean huffed and got up, kneeling behind Sam and grabbed his balls, “You’ve been
a bad boy, Sammy. Do you know what bad boys get?”
Sam nodded and moaned into the dirty carper, “They get spanked, Dea-De-Daddy.”
“Such a good baby boy.” Dean kissed the small of his back, making Sam shiver
under his touch. Dean went over to that large pile of clothes (he mentally
noted he should do laundry tomorrow.) and pulled his belt from one of his dirty
pairs of pants. It was black with a gold buckle and leather. He halved it and
ran it through his palm, “Do you know why you’re getting a spanking, baby boy.”
Dean asked softly.
“Because I’m a bad boy.” He replied. Dean grunted a “mhm” before he smacked him
hard on the ass with his belt. Sam gasped at each strike but moans soon
followed.
His ass and thighs began to welt in lines where the belt landed. Beautiful,
uniform canyons that radiated heat and flushed deep reds and purples. Gorgeous
sight to behold, really, “Have you learned your lesson, Sammy?” Dean huffed,
his arm getting sore from the repeated back and forth motions.
Sam moaned and nodded, “Yes, sir.” Dean chuckled and bent down and cupped his
cheeks. They felt like they were on fire. Damn would they leave the most divine
bruises tomorrow. Sam sighed in content at his touch, his toes curling at
Dean’s master hand work.
“What do you want, Sam.” Dean purred. Dean leaned over him and bit at the back
of his neck. He rock hard erection poking at Sam’s ass like an unwanted guest.
“I-” Sam panted, “Your cock, Dean, please.”
Dean rocked back onto his knees and pressed a pad to his younger brothers hole.
He sure wouldn’t go in dry, he at least had the courtesy to use some form of
lubricate, he just wanted to tease, just a little.
Sam leaned back into Dean’s touch, rocking back into it like a high-class
whore. His hand was around his own engorged member, fisting it like it was
going out of style, “Patience, baby, patience.” Dean cooed before picking
himself up and going to his duffle, fishing for that sacred bottle of his, “If
you’re a good boy, I’ll let you come but,” Ah, finally, he found it, “But if
you aren’t…I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
Sam gulped. Both were equally wonderful things. Fucking would be amazing but
another session of spanking would justly be as good. Sam just figures to make
it easier on Dean he would behave this time.
Dean generously lathered up a finger and pressed it to Sam’s hole and slowly
worked it in. Sam made these pitiful noises, “Shh, baby, Shh,” Dean said in a
hushed tone,
“It’s okay. I got you.” Finally, Dean have his index finger to the last
knuckle. He slowly worked around, trying to find that spot but not yet. Dean
pushed in a second and then a third until he finally found it about two inches
in. The sudden stimulation made Sam yelp and push back onto Dean’s hand. Dean’s
eyebrow’s raised and he licked his lips in lust, “You like that?” Sam nodded,
“Mhm, just keep fucking yourself on my fingers, baby.” Sam did. Did it like
he’s done it a hundred plus times. He rocked on his fingers and rolled his
hips, thrusting his body on and off of his hand like a well paid prostitute.
Once Dean felt like he couldn’t take it anymore, he removed his fingers which
made Sam whine in protest, “It’s okay, baby boy.” He lined himself up and
slowly pushed in. It was tight even though he thought he worked Sam open
sufficiently. Sam groaned in discomfort but once Dean was buried to the root he
sighed in relief.
Dean rocked in and out in a slow, steady, almost robotic like motion. He didn’t
want to hurt Sam or scare him. Dean rubbed his back and massaged his ass and
petted his long, brown hair while he murmured encouraging words like, ‘So good,
so good for me’, ‘you feel so good, so good and tight’, ‘my good boy, Sammy,
good boy.’
Once the awkward friction was gone, Dean starting moving faster and more
erratic. Hitting his prostate like a freight train in a head-on collision. Sam
cried out, words falling out of mouth; they were incoherent. Dean moaned as he
grabbed onto Sam’s boney hips for leverage, “Do you like this, Sam? Do you like
me fucking you hard like this?” Dean asked, leaning forward onto Sam’s back,
never missing a thrust.
Sam nodded and sputtered about a thousand yeses. He was close, “Dean, I-I need
to come. Please. Please let me come.” He begged, his face into the carpet. Poor
kid would probably have carpet burn in the morning.
“Not yet.” Dean huffed, “Gotta wait, sweetheart.” And Sam waited because he was
a good boy and if he came with out permission that would make him a bad boy and
he knew what happened to bad boys, “Good Sammy. So good.”
It didn’t take long for Dean to come. Once he felt close he pulled out suddenly
and spurted on Sam’s red and bruised, little ass. Little rivers of white
flowing the canyons of welts. Perfect. Dean leaned back onto the side of the
mattress and nudged Sam, “Come here.” Sam turned around and nuzzled into his
brother’s flank. Dean kissed his neck and his shoulders and his face. Sloppy,
tired and wet kisses, saliva connecting Sam’s skin to Dean’s pretty pink lips,
“I want you to come now.” Dean mumbled, taking Sam’s cock in his fist and
stroking it up and down, “Since you were such a good boy for me, Sammy. Such a
good, good boy.” Sam relaxed his body and finally allowed himself to come all
over Dean’s palm.
Sam whispered a thank you and fell back into his brother’s chest, tangling up
his long limbs in Dean’s own.
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