The thought of having only scratchy sheets in a room with a busted air conditioner in a motel where you can hear the mice humping in the walls was not the ideal place for most sane humans to retreat to, but after the hunt Sam and Dean just had the backseat of the Impala with their jackets as blankets sounded like the Ritz. The boys had been hunting a wendigo, nasty sons of bitches an damn near impossible to kill since they have been around almost since creation. Sam had a particularly bad gash across his cheek bone, suffered after trying to unsuccessfully stab the wendigo in the back it whipped around to slap him away and caught Sam across the face. Mission accomplished. Dean had patched him up acceptably before receiving treatment on the nice slice he had running the length of his side from under his arm to the top of his waist.

After what felt like eternity they pulled into the motel parking lot. Dean cut the engine and sat there running his hands over his face, trying to scrub away the pain in his body. Sam grabbed his hand, pulling it to him, "Stop that or you will make this worse," he said touching the small cut at Dean's hairline before kissing his brothers knuckles.

Dean smiled at his younger brother, his lover and said, "Come on Sammy."

The two walked into the room throwing their duffels down on the floor. "You two should know better. Always turn on the lights before walking into the room," a gruff voice spoke into the still black room.

"Who the fuck are you?" Dean yelled, reaching for his gun as Sam moved slowly back toward the light.

"Don't you raise your voice to me Dean Michael Winchester," the voice snapped. Before Dean could retort Sam hit the switch, throwing them all into the harsh hotel lighting.

"Dad?" Sam asked in a shaky voice.

"Knees boys." John Winchester commanded in his powerful tenor. Sam and Dean immediately fell to their knees before the older man as though not a day had gone by since their last encounter, nearly three months ago. "Good boys," John walked closer to his sons who had their heads hung. "I'm sorry I wasn't in touch sooner, jobs started running together, I never got a good break." John stood right in front of Dean. He looked down at his oldest son, always the most obedient, the more willing to bend to his father's commands. While Sammy on the other hand, John turned his attention to his youngest, Sam was all fight; not usually one to follow blindly without persuasion, that is, until John broke him.

John let his mind wander back to that night. He had Sam tied to the bed, spread eagle, totally naked. Sam had been even more unruly that day; John had taken the boys out with him to hunt a simple little poltergeist but fucking Sammy just wouldn't listen. John had instructed him to lower his weapon when the thing had grabbed a hold of Dean and that John would handle it from there but Sam was determined. Sam fired off a round of rock salt into the thing; just grazing Dean's side with the pellet, John lost it. After he had disposed of the poltergeist, John ripped Sam a new asshole, he screamed at him about how he was being a fucking brat by not listening to him and that he was lucky he could fucking aim because other Dean would be in a world of hurt. It was some time before John calmed down sufficiently to deal with his youngest.

Dean had been sent away so he wouldn't be there to watch his brother beg. John whipped and fucked San repeatedly, it had taken nearly two hours of constant punishment before his will shattered. He sobbed as he slipped under, begging his father to beat him harder, harder, more; Sam's back was littered with bright red welts and deep lacerations streaming blood, he looked so beautiful. It had taken all the strength in John's body to stop his arm from lashing at his son's broken body. John shook his head of the memory, remembering that he had his two little soldiers here with him.

"On the bed Dean, clothes off," he ordered his oldest, "take off your clothes too Sam. I'm not in the mood for foreplay tonight." John's booming voice added to the fact that he himself was stripping down to his boxers. Dean, completely naked, stood kneeling on the bed, head down waiting for his father's next order. John looked at his oldest in complete submissive mode and nearly shot his load. He turned to his own duffel and grabbed the silver ring from the bag. "You know the drill Dean." Dean sat back on his haunches as he grabbed the ring from his father. He started stroking his already semi-hard member. "Fingers Sam." Sam almost jumped as he was startled out of position. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table but was stopped by his father's firm grip around his wrist. "Dry." Sam's own dick twitched at the idea of taking Dean dry.

Sam looked in his brother's far away eyes, hoping to see any sign that this was a bad idea, he saw nothing but hunger. He ran his finger over Dean's puckered hole before diving straight in with two fingers. Dean wanted to scream because it burned like a motherfucker but he held his composure. Almost immediately Sam found Dean's prostate and began stroking it lightly, just enough to get Dean to push his hips down takings Sam's fingers in further.

"Oh Sammy, another Sam," Dean moaned.

"Now Dean," John's order sliced through Dean's pleasure like a fresh blade, he hesitated for just a moment, glancing at his father hoping he wasn't serious, "Now." Dean slipped on the cock ring begrudgingly, moaning as it slid down his rock hard penis.

"Lay down on the bed Sam." Sam obeyed his father, lying back so his long legs were hanging off the edge. On instinct, Dean moved to straddle his younger brother; he sat on his knees facing Sam. "Take him," John bellowed.

Dean instantly dropped down, impaling himself on Sam's long cock completely dry. The pain was unbelievable, it had been so long since Dean had been ripped open this way. John stood back, watching his sons, savouring every moan from Sam or pained whimper from Dean, cherishing each sweet slap of sweat slicked skin on skin. He couldn't hold back from reaching into the waistband of his boxers and teasing himself.

"Oh Sammy," Dean moaned as Sam pumped his already painfully swollen cock, "fuck Sammy, too much," Despite his words Sam's actions just made Dean pick up the pace of his downward thrusts onto Sam, looking every bit the cock whore he knew he was.

"Daddy please," Dean turned his head to look at John, pleading with him.

"Not yet," John replied as he sidled up behind Dean. He grasped Dean's already bruising hips, rubbing the head of his cock right where Dean's stretched hole met with Sam's dick, causing both his boys to moan loudly and yet again increase their pace. "Deep breath son," was all the warning Dean was given as John pushed into Dean's abused hole alongside Sam.

"Please Daddy, no, fuck, too much, fuck, shit. So good, Daddy and Sammy." Dean uttered a string of curses as his head fell back on his father's shoulder, eyes shut against the conflicting sensations in his lower half.

"Jesus Dean, still so tight," John growled into his boy's neck, "Come on Sammy." Sam pushed up into his brother as John pulled out; creating an alternating rhythm of constant prostate torture that left Dean feeling boneless.

The sounds that filled the room were totally primal, like those of wild animals. Dean howled when his father bit his neck hard enough to draw blood. Moments later John pulled out, moving to stand in front of Dean on the bed above Sam's head. "Put that mouth of yours to good use boy," John ordered before telling Sam to continue fucking his brother. Dean wrapped his pouty lips around his father's huge member and began just teasing the head of his cock, but John would have none of that. John grabbed Dean by the back of the head and all but forced his penis down his son's throat. Dean gagged for a few seconds around his father, spit running down his face before he could open his throat and breathe through his nose so he could swallow around the cock in his mouth. Sam looked up to see Dean's lips stretched around his father and nearly shot his load then just from the desperate look on Dean's face.

"Little fucking cock slut, so good to your Daddy, aren't you Dean?" Dean moaned in agreement around his father's dick. The feeling made John pull out from his son's mouth abruptly, too close to the edge. He clamoured down off the bed to sit down in the only chair in the room across from the bed to watch his sons. He licked his lips as he watched them fuck like animals, tasting Dean's blood on his tongue still.

"Shit De, so fucking hot like this." Sam drank in the sight of his older brother, pupils dilated, lips swollen, skin tinged bright pink, sweat pouring from him and his cock jutting out at full attention past the point of being painfully engorged.

"Please Sammy," Dean begged lacing fingers with Sam.

"What Dean, tell Sammy what you want." Dean could no longer speak; he just moved his free hand down to his penis and gave it a tentative stroke, crying out at the pleasure. John lost it there, the sight, the sounds of his boys, his orgasm shot through him like a bat out of hell.

"Come on De. Give me it all baby." Sam said as he slid the cock ring off Dean. Dean's orgasm was instantaneous and earth shattering. He shot rope after rope across both him and Sam, even coating the bed sheets. His orgasm was so powerful that by the end of it he had completely blacked out. Sam's orgasm peaked at the same time, his coating Dean's insides thoroughly and dripping in an obscene manner down his brother's thighs. Even in his current state of unconsciousness, Dean's body was still squirting out come by the time Sam finished.

John got up from his chair and slid into the bed next to his passed out sons, "Good boys."