Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8833657.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester, John_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Threesome, First_Time, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Pre-Canon
  Collections:
      Sinful_Desire
  Stats:
      Published: 2007-06-15 Words: 4436
****** The More You Shake, The More You Give Away ******
by bloodymaryspn [archived by sinfuldesire_archivist]
Summary
     Sam comes home early and gets so much more than an eyeful.
Notes
     Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally
     archived at Sinful-Desire.org. To preserve the archive, we began
     importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in
     November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted
     announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or
     know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on
     Sinful_Desire_collection_profile.
Hello, I'm your martyr, will you be my gangster?
Can you feel my trigger hand, moving further down your neck?
When you hide, hide inside that body…
But just remember that, when I touch you,
The more you shake, the more you give away…
-“Cold” By Evan’s Blue
 
 
He hadn’t thought too much about it, just assumed it was their way of letting
him find a way to still be teenager when they had the extra cash available.
Movie nights where Sam was dropped off by either his father or Dean. Sometimes
it was even just a ten dollar bill and the promise that he’d be careful and
come back at the appointed time. He really hadn’t thought too much about it. He
hadn’t wondered why he was allowed to take off on his own when his father was
usually all about having him looked after.
 
He found out pretty damn quickly why.
 
The movie was supposed to run for close to two hours but, the film strip had
ripped right in the projector, effectively ending the viewing for the night. So
with forty-five minutes to spare, Sam just decided to take himself back to the
motel since it was only two blocks from the small apartment they were renting
for the time being. He had the key in his hand, his father’s money (which had
been dutifully refunded) in his pocket, and a still ice cold cherry cola when
he quietly opened the door and stepped inside.
 
The television was on, casting a strange blue-violet glow around the living
room but neither his father nor Dean was watching it. He heard a noise in the
kitchen above the sound of the TV and started out in that direction. He nearly
dropped his soda with what he saw next. His gaze had been on the kitchen table
when suddenly Dean was slammed down on it, his chest hitting the scarred oak
before his hands reached to grip a hold of the sides. His face was turned away
from Sam and his body was tense, muscles standing out in stark relief from the
florescent lighting.
 
Sam’s first instinct was that something was terribly wrong. Something was
hurting his brother. At least until he heard Dean’s voice cry out like a
mixture of gravel and broken glass, “Fuck, yeah!”
 
He froze, still only able to see Dean’s upper body…Dean’s naked upper
body…pressed and held down onto the table. He wondered if maybe his dad had
ended up going to the bar for a bit tonight. He knew Dean had played both sides
of the field for some time now. He’d caught Dean with some random guy about two
years back in the Impala, windows slightly fogged up and the car rocking on its
tires. Dean hadn’t been too pleased when he realized Sam was watching him
through one of the side windows. But Sam had undoubtedly lived through it since
he was not standing there in the center of the room watching Dean yet again get
himself thoroughly fucked by another random guy.
 
He rolled his eyes and would have continued heading towards his room but that’s
when the next big surprise happened. Right as Sam was starting to move his feet
in the direction of his room, he caught more movement out of the corner of his
eye and turned to find John pressing himself down along Dean’s back. All of
Sam’s thought processes suddenly came to a screeching and searing halt. He
watched as John bit at the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder before
scratching his beard over the mark he’d left there.
 
It took a few seconds for Sam’s brain to really and fully process what was
going on, but the sound of the table being jarred across the floor pretty much
filled in everything else in his mind. It was like all other sounds had been
muted except for that scraping noise but the moment his mind screamed ‘they’re
fucking!’ every other sound seemed to swoop in and swallow him whole.
 
He could hear Dean’s grunts, his stuttered breathing. He could hear his
father’s voice, low and rough. He could hear the slapping sound of flesh. And
for the life of him, Sammy couldn’t make his legs move. He’d seen way too much
in his young life, but nothing had shaped him more than that moment of finding
Dean in the car with that guy. He’d managed to hide it pretty well, not letting
on that his thoughts for Dean had taken a dangerous and dark turn. His stomach
twisted with too many emotions, one part anger, one part revulsion, one part
jealousy.
 
His father’s hands were everywhere, gripping Dean’s shoulders, raking nails
down his sides, fingers pushing their way between pouted and kiss-bruised lips.
Sam’s gut twisted even as his the heat built between his legs. He was seeing
everything he’d always wanted with the one crucial factor of the equation
missing…him.
 
He wanted to rage, wanted to scream, wanted to race in there and pummel his
father with his fists and whatever other available weapon was at hand. His mind
was racing back in time, counting all the nights and days he’d been allowed to
venture out on his own. He was trying to remember if anything was out of the
ordinary when he got back, things like lingering touches or quick sly glances
between Dean and his father.
 
“Yeah…that’s it, Dean…that’s my boy.”
 
Sam’s hands clenched into fists at his sides at the sound of his father’s
voice. The baritone way it seemed to roll like silk and gravel out of his
throat as he fucked into Dean. His cock throbbed in his jeans and he wanted
it…god, *wanted* to be the one holding Dean down like that. He wanted to taste
sweat and skin, lick and bite until his brother’s body was covered in blossoms
of blue and purple and red. He started forward, unable to turn his gaze away
from the two of them now, needing to see how it ended even though his mind
screamed for him to run away.
 
He watched as John’s hips snapped forward, catching a glimpse of his father’s
dick slick and swollen as it disappeared into Dean. His hand grabbed at the
door frame, fingernails poking into the cheap wood and dingy white paint. John
was leaning over Dean now, hands pressed onto the table top on each side of
Dean, right beneath his armpits. The creaking, scratching, thumping of the
table picked up as John rutted hard against Dean’s ass now in quick short
stabs, a swirl of hips in a circular motion and then a quick back and in
thrust. Dean’s hips were stuttering against the table, pressed down hard by
each movement their father made. His own neglected cock hung heavy between his
legs having been positioned so that it would get no friction or relief from a
good solid rub against the table.
 
Dean’s fingers were adding more scratches now to the top of the scarred table.
His pants and moans were growing louder as John’s thrusts grew harder and
shorter. His whole body was beginning to tremble and he whipped his head
around, laying his cheek down on the coolness of the wood. His eyes were
slightly unfocused for a moment but then they went wide as his gaze connected
with Sam’s. It was immediate then, he pressed both palms onto the table and
tried to push himself up. Dean’s mouth was wide open in surprise but no sound
came out except for his panted ragged breathing. Sam watched in fascination as
one of John’s hands lifted from the table and pressed into the skin of Dean’s
back right below the shoulder blades, forcing him back down.
 
Sam was surprised he didn’t come in his pants right then.
 
John’s breath hitched and he gave a soft groan as his hips stuttered against
Dean’s ass before collapsing across his eldest son’s back. Sam wasn’t sure what
he expected at that point but it wasn’t what he saw. Dean’s gaze was still on
him… unable to look away or respond to just about anything even as John dropped
kisses and nibbles to Dean’s neck and shoulder. When Dean didn’t respond to
anything, John’s head whipped around to the doorway to find Sam standing there.
 
“Shit!” John cursed, squeezing his eyes tightly closed for a moment. When he
opened them again, Sam had taken a few steps into the kitchen eyes still locked
on them. Gaze dropping a bit, John saw exactly the state Sam was in and found
his own gut clenching up for a moment. He pulled back and was highly aware of
that fact that Sam was watching him right the fuck there, watching as he slid
out of Dean. It was only accentuated by the way Sam’s body gave a full tremble
at the sound of soft pop as he came loose of Dean.
 
“Dad?” Dean’s voice was low and just on the verge of panic.
 
John laid a hand on Dean’s back, giving a quick sweep of fingers that had him
quieting again, settling himself back onto the table. His own nudity should
have bothered him but John was practically numb, watching as his youngest son
took another step into the room. The kid’s body was visibly vibrating with
tension…and something much darker, baser. The blush on Sam’s cheeks earlier was
fading as John watched. Sam walked slowly across the room, his gaze raking over
Dean’s back, his ass. It was predatory and dangerous, making John’s cock give a
twitch a bit too soon to come back to full attention just yet.
 
Sam stared down at Dean’s back in fascination. There were scratch marks in
vivid red against his tanned skin, half moon crescent indents where his
father’s nails had clung to Dean just a bit too hard, a bit too rough. Palm
prints stood out in stark relief against the globes of his brother’s ass, one
on each cheek. Sam felt the heat radiating from them as he reached out and ran
just the tips of his fingers over them, pressing into the welts and redness. He
heard his father’s breath hitch behind him, felt Dean shake beneath his hand.
 
The scent of sex and spent semen hung heavy around him, crowded in on all of
his senses. Fingers skimming along the soft flesh, Sam let them dip into Dean’s
crease. His fingers searched amidst slick spent heat and lube coming to rest
tentatively against Dean’s wrinkled opening. It was puffy and hot, his
fingertip poking experimentally inside for just a moment. Dean’s hips surged
back, sucking Sam’s finger into the first knuckle.
 
Sam shuddered, feeling Dean’s internal muscles clamp down on him and… fuck …but
it was the hottest thing he’d ever felt in his life. He felt his own breathing
falter and he took a half step back, his finger still nestled in silk and
steel. His back came into contact with his father’s chest and Sam couldn’t help
the groan that escaped him. He was reeling from the sudden contact, suddenly
remembering that he wasn’t alone with Dean in this room.
 
Dean lifted his upper body and turned his head, his eyes all pupil and lidded.
“Sammy?”
 
John’s arm snuck around Sam’s waist and landed a hard smack to the right side
of Dean’s ass. The resounding crack of flesh on flesh caused both Sam and Dean
to gasp.
 
“Back down, Dean.” John commanded, his voice a heady and arousing breath right
in Sam’s ear.
 
Sam watched in fascination as Dean did as told, his body relaxing into the
table, the tension seeming to drain from him. It didn’t stop Dean from giving
another squeeze of his internal muscles, reminding Sam where his finger still
was. Like he could forget.
 
John’s hand rubbed at the palm print on Dean’s ass before moving over to take
Sam’s wrist, his fingers circling the thin bone structure softly, reverently.
Pushing with his body, John moved Sam forward again placing him closer to Dean.
His other hand rested on Sam’s hip, one finger sliding into one of Sam’s belt
loops.
 
Sam could feel his father’s beard scratching against his cheek, could feel each
puff of hot breath tickle his skin. His knees shook and he tried to pull his
wrist back and away, away from Dean and away from his father. John tightened
his hold, one finger sliding back and forth along the cartilage underneath.
“Easy, Sam.”
 
Sam made a choked noise deep in the back of his throat but forced himself to
relax as John’s hand pulled Sam’s wrist slightly back leaving just the tip of
his finger in Dean. He pushed Sam’s wrist forward, forcing Sam’s finger all the
way in. All three of them groaned in unison. It went this way for several long
moments, John easing Sam’s finger in and out of Dean’s hole still wet with lube
and come.
 
“Crook your finger, Sam,” John breathed, his lips skimming the lobe of Sam’s
ear as he spoke.
 
Sam did on the next slide in and Dean’s body jolted on the table as he rubbed
against something that felt like a small knob inside of his brother. His
father’s hand was still on his wrist so he did it again, his nail touching that
small spot over and over, listening to Dean keen beneath him before his father
slid his finger back out.
 
His father’s hand had left his hip, reaching out to snag at the tube of
lubricant from beside Dean. He pulled Sam’s hand up and squeezed some out onto
his son’s fingers before tossing it back onto the table. He spread it over two
of Sam’s fingers before pressing them back to Dean’s hole. Sam’s eyes were wide
as he turned to look at John, their noses bumping just slightly. Sam shivered,
staring into his father’s eyes as John rubbed the lube along them again,
pressing the other fingers of Sam’s hand closed. He gave a nod with his head,
averting his eyes from Sam’s. His youngest took the hint and looked back to his
task.
 
“Two, Dean,” John said and he pressed Sam’s fingers forward and in.
 
Dean hissed but his body gave way, letting Sam in with out too much resistance
at all. John was whispering in Sam’s ear, telling him to scissor them, stretch
him out a bit more. Knowing his father was coaching his brother only made it
worse and Dean started sliding his one hand down the length of the table,
wanting desperately to touch his own dick to relieve the pressure. The sound
registered first before the heat and Dean jerked hard up against the table,
Sam’s fingers pressing in higher than they had before.
 
“That’s ours, Dean.” Another smack landed on his ass and he felt a tear slip
down the side of his cheek with all the sexual frustration raging in him. “Just
relax, son. Me and Sam’ll get ya there.”
 
A comfortable rhythm was set and went on for awhile, Dean pressing back onto
Sam’s fingers, John setting the pace for all of them. Sam was wide-eyed and
panting with desire, fueled only higher by John’s hand slipping beneath his tee
shirt to settle around his waist as his other hand clung tightly to Sam’s
wrist. Sam shivered as his father’s breath puffed across his ear again.
 
“Don’t stop what you’re doing, Sam.”
 
Sam started to say something and ended up almost choking in surprise as his
father let go of his wrist, focusing both of his hands now on getting Sam’s
pants unbuttoned and unzipped. He lost total train of thought, trying to draw
air into lungs that seemed to scream oxygen deprivation. Light-headed and
shaking, he managed to grab a lungful of air when his father’s roughened hands
pulled his hard-on from the damp confines of his boxers.
 
Dean gave a whine that had Sammy snapping his hips forward into his father’s
hand. He was given a sharp squeeze and held in place. “Sam, take care of your
brother.”
 
Groaning, Sam forced himself to concentrate back on Dean. John moved his hand
in time with each thrust of Sam’s fingers, mimicking and timing it perfectly.
He pressed a soft kiss right beneath Sam’s earlobe and gave a hum of
encouragement. His chin came to rest on Sam’s shoulder, watching with rapt
attention as his youngest finger fucked his eldest. Easing one hand over onto
Sam’s hip again, he reached out and grabbed Sam’s wrist halting all movement.
 
“Easy there, son. I think Dean’s ready for a bit more now, don’t you?”
 
That earned a resounding chorus of groans from both Sam and Dean. John chuckled
darkly, giving Sam’s hard cock a quick squeeze.
 
“Lube, Sam.”
 
He watched as his youngest reached out to snag the tube up, squeezing some out
onto his hand before tossing the bottle somewhere off to the side. He stood
there, frozen for a moment unsure of what to do with his father’s hand still
holding fast to his dick. John reached out and took Sam’s wrist again, guiding
him in this just as he had with Dean before.
 
Slathering the lube on together had Sammy’s head spinning, hips thrusting
forward into the circle of their conjoined hands. It felt fucking amazing and
he didn’t want it to end. He realized with a start this his father had closed
the distance between them, his own dick now hard and pressed up against his
ass. He pushed his hips farther back on the next stroke and felt his father’s
breath hitch.
 
John bucked up hard against denim, the crown of his dick touching the strip of
skin just above the waist of Sam’s jeans. With a growl, he put a punishing grip
on Sam’s cock, restraining him from pushing forward again. “Dean, push up.”
 
Dean was still panting as if he’d run a marathon but did as told. Bracing his
arms on the table, he lifted his upper body and widened his legs. He turned his
head to the side, looking back over his shoulder to take in Sam’s sweat and
heaving form pressed tightly back against their father. His eyes widened and a
smirk appeared on his lips as he dropped his gaze down to where both his
father’s and brother’s hands were entwined over Sam’s hard-on. “Fuck, fuck,
fuck…fuck.”
 
John grinned, moving his hand again down Sam’s hard length. “I have a sneaking
suspicion that his is a first for our Sam, Dean. First times are supposed to be
special.”
 
Dean visibly gulped and he stood up, turning around to look at his brother. He
watched Sam thrust into John’s grip and he had to grab the base of his own cock
to keep from coming at the sight of it. “Sammy… damn, Sammy.”
 
Sam whimpered, leaning back into John and letting his eyes close. He could feel
the blush running all over his body now that he was suddenly the center of
attention.
 
“Open your eyes, Sam. Look at your brother.”
 
Sam instantly obeyed his father, opening his eyes to find Dean standing right
in front of him. Dean’s gaze flickered over his shoulder to their father, his
eyes asking something that Sam couldn’t quite catch. Then he was suddenly very
up close and personal, Dean’s lips closing over his with a surprising amount of
gentleness. The kiss deepened, Dean’s tongue stroking over his lips before
slipping inside, mapping out teeth and palate, dueling with his own. He found
himself caught between leaning forward or grinding backward. The decision was
taken from him when Dean suddenly stepped back, but not before giving Sam’s
bottom lip a good tug and bite.
 
“You wanna fuck him, Sammy?” John’s gravelly voice washed over Sam, making him
shudder and moan without conscious thought. “You wanna bend your brother over
the table and give him what he wants?”
 
“Y-yes, s-sir.”
 
John didn’t have to say a word. Dean turned and braced himself on the table
like he’d been only moments before. His whole body was trembling with
suppressed need and desire. He could feel the weight of the stares on his back,
felt them like a hot caress across his already overheated skin.
 
He knew he shouldn’t want this, not by a long shot. Fucking his father had been
something that had just happened one night. A horrible hunt gone wrong and no
outlet to let go of the frustration he’d felt inside. His father had turned to
the bottle and Dean had sent Sammy away, out to stay with one of the kids he’d
started hanging out with at school. He’d been relieved when the kid showed up
to get Sammy, asking if he could stay overnight instead of coming back home
from the movies. Dean had eagerly agreed yes, much to Sammy’s enthusiasm.
Things had gone downhill from there. The argument over what had happened on the
hunt got very heated and before Dean could even register what was happening,
he’d been pinned to the wall with his father’s tongue in his mouth and hand
down the front of his jeans.
 
But this… this was a whole different ball field and Dean knew it. Sammy was so
into what was going on that it made him shake from the inside out with the hot-
dirty-wrongness of it all even if he had noticed in that same hot-dirty-wrong
way how his brother had gone from awkward teen into muscular young man. He
craned his neck over his shoulder and watched as their father eased Sammy
forward again.
 
Hands reaching out to run along Dean’s waist, Sam tried to steady himself…
force his breathing back to normal even if his heart felt like it was about to
jump right out of his throat. His father nudged him closer, hand still working
his aching dick until the swollen crown of it was nestled against Dean’s
puckered hole. John’s hand disappeared and both ended up resting on top of
Sam’s hands, anchoring him to Dean. “Go slow, Sam. He may be fucked open from
earlier but you gotta go slowly at first.”
 
Sam sucked in a lungful of air and pushed, groaning at the way Dean’s body
easily started to accept him… almost sucking him in. Dean clenched around him
as he slid all the way in feeling and registering words all in a heady rush of
hot-fuck-wet-yes-tight. He went slow, gentle push in and gently pull out, his
father’s hands holding tight to his, a thumb sweeping over knuckles and breath
hot along the side of his face and neck. Then his father’s hands were squeezing
his, making him halt mid-stroke and it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in
his life stopping himself from sinking so wonderfully deep inside of Dean.
 
“Stay still, Sam. Don’t move,” John’s voice was a ghost touch against his skin
and he wanted so badly to just fucking move, until John’s hands squeezed his
and literally pulled Dean back onto his dick. He watched as his dick
disappeared in and out of Dean, his father’s hand guiding Dean back onto him.
With a grunt, John pressed himself tighter to Sam’s back, rubbing his own
hardness against Sam. His own fingers were practically buried in Dean’s skin
from where John was squeezing and pressing so hard. It made his cock give a
definitive twitch inside of Dean knowing that his older brother would be
carrying not only their dad’s marks but his.
 
“Dad,” Sam choked out, trying to keep himself from coming already.
 
“Ssshhh, s’okay, Sam.” John’s hands left Sam’s and settled on Sam’s waist
instead. “Go on now.”
 
With a hiss of air between clenched teeth, Sam plunged forward with no thought
of finesse. His hips began to work faster, slamming ruthlessly into Dean with
the loud sound of flesh on flesh and moans that just weren’t his. He pounded
harder, deeper, trying to get as far inside as he possibly could before pulling
out and pressing against his father’s hard cock riding along the sweat soaked
skin of his lower back. He shifted a bit and the next stroke in had Dean’s
hands clawing at the table, practically screaming his name and trying to force
himself back.
 
God but he was so close now, wanted nothing more than to get himself off and
fill Dean up, replace his father’s claim with his own. Hips going completely
erratic, he leaned himself over Dean’s back, letting one hand come to rest on
the table top while the other scrabbled to reach Dean’s neglected leaking cock.
His hand closed around it and he started pulling in counter point to his
thrusts. He bit at Dean’s neck, licked at the beads of sweat rolling down from
his hairline. He felt his father’s hands slide up his back, gripping his
shoulders just this side of painful as he found a rhythm to match Sam’s.
 
Tight coiled heat pooled low in his stomach, spreading outward like a bursting
supernova and he knew he couldn’t hold out anymore. With a violent shove, he
slammed home into Dean with his hips rocking and bucking of their own accord as
his orgasm tore through him. He felt Dean tense up underneath him, shaking and
cursing and calling his name. Dean’s voice had barely stopped when his father’s
voice suddenly took up the chant of their names. Draping himself across Dean’s
back in post-orgasmic bliss, he felt his father’s come sear his skin and a hand
sliding into his hair.
 
The room was oddly quiet now, just the sound of breathing as the three
Winchester men rested against each other and the table. Dean gave a grunt of
discomfort and shifted, one hand smacking at Sam’s side in a feeble attempt to
get him to move. John stepped back, running a hand over his face and watched as
Sam pulled out of Dean and tried to stay standing. They all stood staring at
each other for a moment, unsure of what to say or what to do. John grabbed for
a dishtowel and cleaned himself off and turned to toss the towel to Dean.
Dean’s hand reached out to snag it from the air but it was just a second too
late. As all three of them watched, the cloth landed into the center of the
table, sliding just an inch or so along the surface.
 
With a crash, it fell to the floor. It wasn’t the only thing broken that night.
 
END.
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