pawptartt

it was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.

"OH SO YOU THINK SAMS EVIL. DID WE NOT SEE THE COMPASSION HERE? HES LITERALLY SO NICE AND SYMPATHETIC!"

He finds what is to be expected, clothes, guns, cigarettes and lots of condoms and magazines, but there, at the bottom of the bag is a small, black digital camera.

It turns on with a quick click, and the small screen lights up. He scrolls through the pixilated photos. Fields, roadside stops, lots of angles of the Impala, but then...

Sam.

Not just one or two innocent photos of the kid, but an endless stream of blurry pictures from all angles, with Sam wearing progressively less and less clothes until John reached a photo of his youngest son, nude and on his knees with a cock pressed against his cheek, staring up at the camera with those big doe eyes.

And in those eyes, John found an answer to what he'd been thinking.

Yes, dad. I want this.

Despite his better judgement, John scrolled to the next photo. It was a video, but the screen was completely black. The small speaker vibrated next to his finger.

"Fuck, Dean- please-"

"Shut up, Sammy, you'll wake up dad. Be quiet for me, okay?"

"D-de, please i'm close-"

John shut off the camera.

He placed it back where he found it, and went to bed praying he'd wake up to find it was just a dream.

Not a violent dog

dean prone boning sam with his huge bicep wrapped around his neck. his entire weight is resting on sam’s body, and his erection is driving into that tight hole with his pelvis rhythmically slapping against sam’s plush ass.

and it’s just too good on sam’s end, the constant thrusts of dean’s cock jabbing at his prostate and him being suffocated by dean’s muscular arm has his brain turning into mush and his own cock leaking on the mattress. there is not a single coherent word that is slipping past his mouth besides the little mewls and high-pitched moans.

sam can’t squirm away either; with the very little strength that he has, he takes every deep stroke dean is giving him. and he doesn’t realize that he’s starting to drool on his bicep till dean lifts his head with his other hand, where he sees a string of saliva connected from his mouth to dean’s arm. the room may have spun on a tilted axis, but his brother was the only pull sam needed. dropping his chin into the meat of dean’s bicep, sam clamped down. and dean just stares down at the messy, slobber-soaked display, chuckling as he tightens his hold. it wasn't a malicious bite, but a dull gnawing.