Roman .⋆༺♱༻⋆.

ok please picture with me: John has caught them at odd moments before where he can sense how grateful they are that he didn't hear what they said or they look too comfortable with each other's bare skin. it makes him feel guilty that they've never had anyone but each other. of course they're close

but

then he walks in on his almost-adult son with his tongue in his still-practically-a-kid son's mouth. Sam isn't even quite a teenager yet. the size difference is enormous and the gap in experience and maturity is profound

the boys are shirtless and there's no mistaking the way Dean's hand spans Sam's ribs, thumb passing over Sam's nipple

when he comes in, they pull apart but Dean looks dazed like he was so caught up in– what they were doing that he's not certain what's happening. but Sam is clear-eyed and alert, eyes darting between John and Dean

Sam says "Dad" all little boy in a way he clearly isn't anymore and puts himself between them. John leaves marks on his pale torso pushing him out of the way so he can break Dean's nose

Sam is sprawled on his stomach beneath him, slender body stretched out on the mattress, trembling. His thin spine stands out in delicate ridges under sweat-glistened skin. Messy dark hair sticks to his flushed neck, strands clinging wherever sweat has plastered it. Pathetic little sounds punched out from Sam’s mouth every time John sinks in deep and hard.

John exhales a thick plume of smoke, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. The cigarette rests loosely between his fingers while his free hand stays fisted tight in Sam’s hair, pressing his face into the sheets.