John’s hands were on each side of the kitchen sink while sam was trapped between them. He was washing the dishes, and John was so close that Sam could feel his breath on the back of his neck. John’s hands, which had been braced on either side of the sink, slid down to Sam’s waist.
Sam got goosebumps all over his body when he felt the scratch of John’s stubble against his neck, followed by his lips, and then his tongue. Sam squirmed, trying to move away. As he turned his head, he saw a silhouette coming closer to the motel room. It was Dean, back from the bar.
“Dad, please go,” Sam whispered.
John didn’t listen. He inhaled Sam’s scent, his hands groping Sam’s hips as he ground his crotch against Sam’s ass. John hummed low in his throat. “Mmm…”
John’s hand moved downward. Sam jerked. “Stop… please…”
Sam grabbed John’s huge hand with his own wet, dish-soap-covered one, trying to stop it from reaching his privates. But John didn’t stop, he kissed Sam’s neck again. Despite himself, Sam let out a small moan.
He heard the door click. Sam braced himself for the worst. But when he opened his eyes, John was sitting at the kitchen table, casually opening a beer. Dean grinned.
Sam swallowed. “Hey, Dean.”
He turned back to washing the pan, trying to act normal. He could feel something wet and slick slowly moving down his thighs.
