Foreword: ... I have nothing to say for myself. This just refused to be written. I went through 3 different versions of this chapter until finally we have this.

I have no idea if this is good or bad because I've looked at it so much. I hope it's decent and I hope you guys like it.

Thanks again for sticking by me. Your reviews and favorites mean the world to me

Enjoy

Warnings: Angst, very graphic incest

Dean couldn't look John in the eye as he dropped nervous fingers to the buttons on his dad's shirt, fumbling a little as he began to unbutton them. John put one hand over Dean's and he stopped, looking up in confusion. But John wasn't looking at him, he merely gently pushed Dean's hands away and started undoing the buttons himself, even though Dean saw his fingers were no more steady than his own.

Dean swallowed hard again, throat still too dry. This was….this was insane. It was bat shit insane but Dean couldn't will himself to think he should stop. He couldn't back out, not now. Not when he finally knew what had been bothering John for so long and he could finally fix it.

He watched John undo the over shirt for a moment, and then realized he should probably be doing the same and mentally slapped himself. Fumbling even more with his own shirt in his haste he heard John chuckle lightly and Dean frowned. He slowed down then, trying to show John he wasn't anxious even though Dean was sure his lungs were going to collapse from how hard he was breathing right now. John smiled faintly and finished up his own buttons, pulling off his shirts. Dean licked his lips to wet them and bit the bottom lip hard, his breath slightly ragged.

John's breath caught and suddenly John pulled Dean away from the car, and Dean's heart fucking pounded in his chest and into his ears when he pressed flush against the warm, hard muscle of his father's broad chest. The blood in his veins throbbed hotly as nervous heat pooled in his stomach. The loud squeak of the Impala's back door sounded when it was opened and he didn't need further prompting to get into the back seat, shaking hands grappling to slide himself inside. John followed, closing the door behind him and suddenly his father was very very close and Dean gulped. The slight sound of wind was gone now, making Dean very aware of his father's slow breath and his own slight pant.

Dean willed his breath to calm as pulled his shirts off, exposing his chest to the cold air and lying back on colder leather. Suddenly the Impala felt very small and cramped, but Dean took in a deep breath and waited.

Dean was at a loss of what to do. He'd never gone this far with anyone, though he'd gotten pretty far now, and this was completely different. So far John was just…looking at him. His eyes roamed over his naked torso and Dean blushed under his scrutiny, wondering if John liked what he was seeing at all.

But then his dad's eyes were squeezing shut in what Dean now knew was guilt and Dean panicked a little, shifting up to cup his father's jaw.

"It's okay," Dean said for what felt like the thousandth time, saying it so much the words were starting to sound funny and not like words at all. So much he wasn't entirely sure who the words were for anymore. John grimaced a little but leaned into Dean's touch, still not opening his eyes. Dean moved forward again and brushed his lips over his father's jaw, cheek, and eyes; feather light and finally he felt the tension slowly ease out of John's body. This Dean could do, he could relax John and let him know Dean would do this for him.

He kissed over John's cheek and nearly squeaked when he felt John turn his head and kiss him on the mouth. Dean's breath hitched and his eyes widened slightly, having barely enough presence of mind not to still from shock and to kiss him back. He managed it with minimal nose bumping and awkward clashes of lips, and Dean felt proud he didn't make a total fool of himself as he parted his lips for John's.

Dean hadn't even entertained thoughts of kissing his dad, let alone been stupid enough to think of trying it. Like hell he was about to complain, though. John's lips were warm, slightly chapped from cold air but they were welcome pressure and Dean let his eyes slip partially closed as he kissed him; it was hardly anything more than brushes of lips but it made Dean relax significantly. Nearly as soon as it came his dad was pulling away, his head dropping as he sighed shakily. And like that it was done. Dean listened to the sound of his heart beating like a war drum and their unsteady breathing, waiting for John to say something, do something. Finally John's eyes blinked open, looking at Dean almost guiltily, but mainly relaxed and actually looking at him. He considered that a damn good victory.

Slowly, hesitantly, they began exploratory touches, mapping out skin and ridges of muscles; the hard lines of John's stomach and the softer planes of Dean's. John needed a little more coaxing, which Dean remedied with arches of his back and his hitching breath, and when warm calloused hands passed over his swelling nipples Dean gasped at the touch. The teasing was driving him nuts; he needed this and Dean moaned under his breath. John looked up, and passed his hands over his nipples again, this time pinching the nubs teasingly and the action made Dean arch into his hands and his breath hitch again. Dean didn't even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed when his pants started to tighten significantly in the front and heat spread on his cheeks.

As John kept up the tease Dean's swollen cock throbbed in protest against the unforgiving fly of his jeans, and Dean scooted back so he could reach John's belt buckle. Dean could feel that powerful gaze on him as he tugged it loose, lightly palming and rubbing his dad's arousal through his jeans. John's hips jerked into the contact and let out a ragged, startled groan and Dean smiled. Dean remembered this. Carefully Dean pulled his pants open and slid them down his thighs, pushing them as far as his dad's position would allow and soon followed by his boxers. He was met with the sight of his father's hard length again, thick and red with his want but instead of the nervous apprehension Dean had felt that night so long ago, it was replaced with heavy and eager anticipation.

Dean sat back to let John push his clothing the rest of the way off, denim tangling momentarily in his dad's thick boots before finally wrestling them off as well. Dean saved the trouble of tangling his own clothing by quickly untying his boots and pushing them in the corner, bumping his elbows into the Impala's seat and window and grimacing a little. Dean went to unbuckle his own belt but he was again startled into confusion when John pushed him to lie back. Instead of John pulling away like he thought John chuckled breathlessly, and then his dad's hands were on his belt, pulling it free and unzipping his pants. Damn him if Dean didn't get harder and he felt his blood suddenly start pounding away in his ears and throat again. He had to physically choke back a whimper at the sight and keep his hips still, because his cock seemed insistent on throbbing eagerly at the idea of contact, especially from John.

Dean helped John by lifting his hips up, hooking his fingers in his waist band so he could push the jeans down to his thighs. John managed to free him from the denim as well as from his boxers, dropping them both to the cloth-crowded floor and then suddenly Dean was… he was naked. Flushing darkly Dean laid back, still hoping that John wasn't going to freak.

But John was watching him again, no longer tensed up and his eyes so blown they looked almost black and Dean bit his lip, sore and blood swollen from how often he had worried at the flesh.

John ran one hand up Dean's leg, his thumb stroking along his thigh, so slowly it was almost in wonderment but to Dean it was a biggest tease on earth. The touch was too slow and so fucking searing he could feel the trail his hot fingers left, coaxing up goosebumps and speeding up the flow of blood straight to his cock and Dean spread himself wider just to get more of that delicious contact. He was shocked slightly when the hand kept going, eyes widening and throat constricting when John's fingers swiped mercilessly soft over the head of his red, neglected cock. Dean was nearly cowed by the move and arched up from the suddenness of it with a gasp, feeling calloused fingertips brush once more before John pulled away and Dean whined with silent plea. When Dean tore his eyes away from the hand lingering cruelly close to engorged flesh and to John's face, he was startled to see his dad smirking. Oh; oh the jerk. He knew he was being a tease. But Dean bit back a grin, ecstatic John was finally relaxing. Even if he was the world's biggest cock block.

"Fuck, come on…" Dean panted, arching his hips a little, "You're not playing fair…"

John chuckled a little, "Who said I would?"

"Dad…" Dean groaned a little, reaching forward to give him a taste of his own medicine. He wrapped his own hand around John's cock and gave it one firm stroke, forcing out a startled gasp and a buck of powerful hips. He stroked a few more times, remembering what John liked and breathing shakily when John gasped.

Dean swallowed hard, "Come on…come on, I want more."

"Dean…" his dad whispered in a small pant and the younger looked up to see John's brow creased slightly, his throat working as he swallowed down gulps of air. Dean sat back when John gave him a small, tentative nod, his insides flipping a little with nervousness. Even if he'd been mentally preparing himself for this since this started, his body literally thrumming with the need for it, he was still anxious as hell. His heart raced and his breath quivered, nodding his head quickly and pulling his hand away.

John sat back, waiting for him. Dean gulped and brought his fingers up to his own mouth, brushing them tentatively over his lips before sucking three of them into his mouth. Dean exhaled sharply and made quick work of them before pulling his slick fingers out, brushing them over his erection lightly on their way down between his legs. His breath caught and he hesitated just a second, his brow creasing slightly in concentration as he slowly pushed one finger into his body. Dean winced immediately and clenched his jaw a little, willing himself to relax around the sharp discomfort. He raised himself up on one hand and tried to push it in deeper, breathing as slow as he could. He added another finger and forced it in, wincing again and gritting his teeth harder. The sharp discomfort changed to a burn and but he ignored it. God, how did anyone do this? This hurt

Dean cringed and tried to push his fingers in deeper, ducking his head slightly to hide his flush. He was inexperienced, he knew, and the position was uncomfortable and impossible to get his fingers deep enough to stretch, but he couldn't be doing this right.

"Stop," John muttered suddenly, and Dean jerked in surprise. He looked up in confusion and John just shook his head, smacking his hand away, "I'll do it."

Before Dean could protest John was shooting him a silencing look and he shrunk back.

"S-sorry," he mumbled, the flush of embarrassment heating up even more on his cheeks.

"No sorry," John sighed, but his voice was soft, "Just…try to relax, okay?"

Dean nodded, chewing his lower lip gently as he forced himself to relax. He sat back on his elbows and watched as John sucked and licked over three of his fingers. Dean's breath caught in his throat at the sight, staring at him with wide eyes. His fingers dug into the seat, tense with anticipation.

John slipped his fingers out and brought his free hand up to cup Dean's cheek, brushing his thumb lightly over the cheek bone and Dean looked up at him. His dad's eyes were careful now, not so glazed as before though obviously dilated. Dean sighed and leaned into the touch slightly, nodding to him. When he felt the first finger touch to his entrance he reflexively flinched, expecting more of what he had just attempted. But John didn't push it in; instead he ran slow, small circles over the tight muscles and Dean trembled in surprise at the soft touch.

John ran his thumb up to rub the skin below Dean's balls and Dean couldn't stop the moan that escaped his throat as his eyelids fluttered closed from the sensation. John chuckled lightly and kept up the careful and now firm rub, drawing out another small moan and Dean rocked back into it this time. John broke his gaze then, dropping his head down to plant a kiss to Dean's stomach. The muscles twitched and then John ran his tongue over his stomach and Dean moaned again, arching up when the tip of the slick muscle circled his slight abs.

John kissed over his abdomen again, a reassuring brush, and then eased his first finger inside. Dean winced like before, because instead of stopping John kept going until he felt his knuckles touch skin. Dean heart hammered in his chest from the foreign stretch and he swallowed hard, but then sighed when his father's tongue when back to mapping out the curves of his muscles. John worked the finger slowly inside him, Dean taking deep breaths, but too soon John started to push a second finger inside. Dean winced then and locked up, hissing sharply. John stopped, and sucked on a small patch of skin the same time John wrapped his fingers around Dean's cock and started to pump him slow, so slow Dean moaned and felt sweat break out over his forehead, sliding down his jaw in tickling streams. John pushed that second finger all the way inside, forcing a buck of Dean's hips up into his hand.

John worked Dean open slowly and diligently, taking his time to wait for Dean's moans and the slow rock of hips before thrusting his fingers to stretch him. He made Dean forget the discomfort in favor of slowly stroking his arousal, kept up the soft kisses and light licks that wound Dean up and down into a shaking mess of gasps and moans. Sweat stung at his eyes and he brought his hand up to wipe it away, breathing slowly to distract himself from the slight burn of the stretch. It was getting stifling in the car, hot and almost humid from their panting.

Dean eased himself off of his elbows to lie back, slinging one arm behind his head to keep it from digging into the car door. He watched John work him open and the younger licked his dry lips, forcing himself to breathe deeply to calm his pounding heart. John looked up at him then, his eyebrows creased together slightly in concern. Dean just nodded to him, and John pushed in the third finger. Dean keened and forced his hips still; gritting his teeth as John so carefully worked him. He relaxed the best he could, a feat it in itself yet slowly but surely the burn eased into a slight, foreign sensation; Dean bucked his hips down in silent admission for more.

John started thrusting his fingers steadily in and out, spreading them slightly to stretch him more. All the while John kept stroking Dean's cock, squeezing his fingers around the sensitive, leaking head and Dean couldn't help moaning at his touch. Dean realized faintly John had his fingers knuckle deep in him, three of his fingers now, and it didn't hurt; not like before. He could feel the distinct difference, and strangeness of the tension, but it was good. The ache in his gut was starting to curl again, coiling tight and seeping down into his groin. He whined and rocked his hips back into John, realizing he really liked this. He should tell John he was ready, but that sensation felt so good and he needed more of it, so much now that he just couldn't bring himself to tell John to stop.

"Are you okay?" John asked softly, probably having noticed his wandering thoughts. But Dean didn't register it; all of his focus was on John's three fingers, thick and long inside him. But that was hardly anything. It was going to be replaced with something bigger.

John frowned slightly and raised his other hand to wave it in his face, saying sternly, "Dean."

Dean jerked slightly, blinking dazedly out of his state and then nodding, "Y-yeah. Yeah."

And honestly, he was. It was a little nerve-wracking sure, but he was okay. John grunted a little, but it didn't sound like he believed Dean. He kept going, his fingers pushing in deep and slightly stroking upwards. Dean bit his lip and groaned softly when he started stroking his cock again and Dean's eyes rolled slightly as sparks of white danced over his vision. John kept it up until it started to feel like teasing, even to him now because that lingering discomfort was fading into something else entirely, making heat spiral in his gut and his cock pulse pre-come onto his stomach and god, and he wanted more. But John was still touching, his fingers sliding deep into his relaxed body, faster and harder until Dean could almost call it fucking but not enough, not nearly enough even when Dean started bucking back into it.

Dean gritted out a deep groan and lolled his head back for a moment, his hips rocking steadily into John's driving fingers. Sweat made Dean stick to the leather seat and tickled his sides where it dripped steadily off of his body and the sheer need was blinding. John didn't take his silent cues, just kept stroking and now he was licking and kissing his skin again and Dean spread his legs wider, hitching one up the seat to open himself up further. Suddenly John touched something that made Dean groan loudly in surprise and jerk hard into his hand, heat shooting down his spine and the ache in his cock throbbing hard. Oh, oh god that was so- oh god! John stroked his fingers upwards again, searching until he hit that spot and Dean nearly sobbed out a moan. He heard John chuckle a little but didn't register it, that extra haze of pleasure was enough for Dean to start spilling pre-come onto his stomach, coating his dad's fingersandJohn just kept rubbing that spot, drawing out whimpers and wordless pleas until Dean trembling and bucking hard into it.

"Please, oh shit please," he panted out, his voice rough and thick. He swallowing hard and nearly keened when John teased him one more time and Dean's hand flew down to his cock and he gripped himself tightly, so close to coming he could feel his dick swelling towards to brink. John pulled both of his hands away, slowly pulling his fingers out, and Dean's heart started pounding and pounding harder, watching with glazed eyes as John spat into his palm and slicked his arousal with it as well as with his own pre-come.

But then John stopped. He was looking at Dean's body with definite arousal, but a flash reminiscent of the last few weeks dimmed his eyes. Dean didn't even think before he sat up and cupped his dad's jaw.

"Come on, it's okay. Dad, I'm…I'm ready." Dean said as steadily as he could, even with his chest heaving for much needed air.

John flinched again, and Dean regarded him with utter confused but patience; as much patience as an extremely turned on sixteen-year-old boy could muster.

"Dad?" He said gently, his voice thick and very definitely begging.

John let out a sharp, shaky exhale, "Dean, don't-…"

Dean shut his mouth and waited.

"Don't… call me…." John started, the words obviously difficult to get out, "I can't…"

And suddenly Dean got it. Oh.

Dean nodded quickly, quickly, feeling stupid for not having thought of it before. "Yeah, yeah I won't."

"John. Just…say John."

Dean nodded again, willing to do anything to make his dad comfortable with this. On shaky arms Dean leaned up to kiss him gently, trying to convince him that it was fine. Dean wanted to make this good for him, he shouldn't care Dean was his son. Dean was his soldier first, now and always and he would do anything for him.

John kissed him back for a moment, sighing softly before clasping his hand over Dean's shoulder. He broke the kiss and nudged him to lay back.

"Alright. Lay down, and for god's sake, please relax."

Dean very nearly rolled his eyes and huffed when he obeyed, spreading his legs the best he awkwardly could in the Impala, taking the leg pressed up on the seat in his hand to hitch it up higher and hooking the other over John's hip. Dean didn't need that prompting; of course he knew to relax. It wasn't just fingers anymore, that was almost trivial compared to what was…about…to… It was like telling someone with a fear of heights not to look down. Dean could feel himself tightening and tensing up and he gulped nervously. John sighed.

"Dean. Please."

Dean shook his head, "No, yeah I'm just. Just do it. I'll be fine."

John didn't seem too convinced by that but Dean held his gaze, so John sat up on his knees and shifted forward. Dean felt the tip of his father's arousal press against his entrance and Dean's heart and his stomach fluttered and jumped. He was going to have a fucking heart attack before this was over, he swore to god. Dean bit his lip and relaxed as much as he could, his pulse hot in his veins as it raced a mile a minute until finally John pushed the head into his body.

Dean gritted his teeth for a moment before his lips parted in a gasp, his hands flying up to grip John's forearms tightly. His dad stilled immediately and Dean nearly gave himself whiplash shaking his head quickly back and forth.

"No, no please, keep going," he choked out, his glazing eyes finding John's. It was uncomfortable, but more shocking than anything else and sweet god fuck John better not stop now.

John studied him for a moment but kept moving, sinking in inch by incredible inch and Dean moaned in pleasure. It was gone; that lingering pain was gone and the discomfort was overshadowed by thick, hard, and hot filling him to the brim. He felt John's hips press flush against him and Dean realized his body had taken it all. He swallowed hard and each breath was a shaky gasp, clacking his teeth shut to breathe through his nose.

"Are you okay?" John asked again, softer and much shakier than before. Dean could see the tremble in his arms, the flush deep on his cheeks. Dean nodded and after a few moments, shifted his hips experimentally. The head of his dad's big cock brushed his insides so deeply that Dean gasped and keened slightly, clenching around him instinctively. He winced when that brought back pain but John let out a sharp, startled moan so Dean did it again. That time it forced a sharp buck of powerful hips and Dean whimpered from nothing that had to do with pain.

Dean swallowed down a breath and locked glazed eyes up on his father, his hands relaxing from their vice like grip on John's arms slightly.

"M-… move," he panted, his dick twitching back to almost painful hardness and Dean ached from the roller coaster of sensations, the pain and pleasure making his head dizzy and his vision swim but he wanted more. Even when the dull discomfort came back for a moment it was okay, because when John thrust back in, slow and deep and unrelenting Dean's eyes rolled and he couldn't bite back the sharp moan of pleasure. It was foreign, indescribable; but good, so damn good he couldn't jumble his thoughts together enough to think more than he needed more, now.

John stopped moving and Dean bit his lip hard. Oh, that was not fair at all, he needed this, god please John better not be changing his mind now. Another tentative thrust of hips drove the cock head directly into his prostate, just a simple tease and Dean arched.

"Oh god, oh god!" Dean choked out, bucking his hips back against John's this time, "please…!"

He was so thick, so hard and so fucking hot it was better than Dean thought it would feel, and Dean tried not to whimper with every small shift inside him John was making. He needed him to move, he needed to feel his dad thrusting deep inside. John's breathed sharply through his nose at Dean's whimper and he pushed Dean down into the car seat, strong and forceful hands holding him still.

"J-John…" Dean whimpered, remembering his father's order not to calm him "Dad" as he clutched desperately on the car seat.

John stopped the tentative roll and snapped his hips into Dean's, forcing out a loud, shaking gasp from the younger's throat and he dug his fingers into the leather of the seat to keep him rooted down. John kept up that wonderful grind and Dean tried to roll his hips back into it, he really did but oh, ohhh that sensation was so sudden and consuming, hot and hard and rough and constant it took everything in him to spread his legs wider and allow more movement for John, let alone get the air to breathe and keep blood running to his racing heart. He groaned and hooked his leg over John's thigh, pulling them closer together and driving John even deeper into his stretched hole.

Dean whimpered with each hard thrust, one hand flying up to grip at the handle of the impala's door to keep from hitting the side. He grappled uselessly at the ceiling and ended up grasping John's shoulder, nails digging into skin and moaning when John hit that spot deep inside.

"John!" Dean cried out again, accompanied by the plea of his father's name and John's mouth lowered to his chest, sucking a patch of skin hard. John moved his mouth lower, lower until it latched onto a nipple and Dean arched lack a jackknife against him with a keen. John pushed him back down and teased his tongue over the swollen nub, making Dean whimper and try not to buck. John shouldn't be doing this; Dean didn't need to be pleasured, it was enough to give John his satisfaction, but god his mouth felt so hot and wet and good on his skin.

"John…" Dean begged, unsure of what he was asking for. He didn't need to though, because his dad started to thrust harder and faster, impaling Dean with each brutal grind and Dean let out a near-sobbing cry from how good it felt. He looked up at John's face and he could tell he was getting close, he recognized the slack-jaw expression and uplifted brow. Dean tightened himself around his father's arousal, not caring that it shot a twinge of pain through him because this was for John, not him. It was worth it when John cried out suddenly and buried his face in Dean's neck; his movements became erratic until he thrust into Dean harder than before, no pain at all with it but rather blinding, bright ecstasy and finally he felt the hot spill of John's essence shooting deep inside his body. The feel of his father taking him so intimately made Dean bite his lip and tremble under him, and Dean came between their stomachs with a hitching cry, his hands flying up to grip both of John's shoulders and his vision flashing white from the force of the powerful waves of pleasure dragging him under leaving him breathless.

Dean came down from his orgasm slowly, his breath shaking as his useless muscles and bones turned to liquid where he laid. He opened his eyes he hadn't realized he had closed, and looked up at John. John had dropped down to his elbows and his forehead was resting against Dean's collarbone. His entire body shook to match Dean's own. The younger bit his lip and removed his hands from John's shoulders, weaved one through his hair and held it there.

He didn't want this to turn sour; not like before and every other time he was alone with his dad since. He just… he wanted this to be okay. He wanted John to know how good this had felt, for Dean and hopefully for him, too.

John took a deep breath and got the energy to move away again, sitting up on his knees as he slowly pulled out of Dean's body. Dean was so relaxed that it didn't hurt at all, he just gasped softly at the sensation. John still had his eyes closed, one hand braced on the roof of the impala to keep himself upright. Instead of staying still like his body so vehemently wanted him to Dean pulled himself vertical and stroked his hands through John's hair again, cupping his jaw. Dean was tense though, worried the gesture would elicit a bad response and John would draw away from this again. He knew this was delicate, just by the way John wouldn't open his eyes to look at him yet. He didn't want to start from square one or worse, shut this out completely.

"D… John?" Dean said timidly, not sure if calling him "Dad" again was alright yet.

John's eyes blinked open, and he looked towards Dean, but couldn't meet his eyes. Dean swallowed hard, and lifting John's chin Dean kissed him on the mouth. John jumped like a spooked rabbit but he didn't draw away, and Dean couldn't help but feel ridiculous by how quickly the roles were reversed. But John's lips parted to the kiss, and Dean pressed just a little more; the wet slide of skin slotted his upper lip between John's and he could feel the faint graze of teeth over the skin. His mouth was warm, hot and swollen still against Dean's own as he held him close. Warm breath ghosted over his cheek and Dean trembled from the feel of it.

John's hands moved away from his sides and finally weaved through Dean's hair, not pulling him closer but the feel of large, strong arms over his neck, bracketing him in made Dean feel the sense of protection he hadn't had from John in so long. Dean felt his chest swell a little, squeezing his eyes shut to fend off the tears of relief that were threatening to fall. But when the pulled back, matching breaths quivering as they exhaled and eyes finally meeting, Dean had to ask.

"Are we okay?" Dean whispered. John gave Dean a small, weak smile, and a chuckle bubbled out of his throat. He ruffled one hand through Dean's hair before cupping his jaw again, and John smiled.

"Yeah. We're okay," John whispered back, and Dean couldn't help but smile, too.

A/n: Hope you enjoyed! Don't close the book on this one just yet, there's one more chapter after this. The Epilogue, and it'll be pretty short. Let's hope I can churn that one out before the one year anniversary of this story. oooy. Reviews are always appreciated 3