
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1331788.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural, Wincest_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/John_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester/Sam
      Winchester, Dean_Winchester/John_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      sex_spell, Surprise_Kissing, Anal_Sex, Anal_Fingering, Coming_Untouched,
      Jealous!John, Leprechauns, Luck_of_the_Irish, St._Patrick's_Day, Wincest
      -_Freeform, Weecest
  Series:
      Part 5 of Holidays_with_the_Wincesters
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-18 Words: 1902
****** Getting Lucky (A Wincest St. Patty's Day) ******
by MothMeetsFlame
Summary
     John is on the Hunt for a Leprechaun. Dean finds a coin in his
     pocket, one that has a strange effect on the people around him. Sammy
     and John are far from unaffected.
Notes
     WARNING: Underage. No ages listed, but I picture Sam between 12-14
     for this fic. Also contains incest. Lots and lots of incest.
     Seriously people, if you don't like this stuff, don't click on it.
See the end of the work for more notes
Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely though, those two boys? Their da thinkin’ he could
outwit an ol’ beast like him. But as he knew, there wa’nt much a man could do
against such a trickster. Trappin’ him would be about the extent of it, but he
had a plan—foolproof! Luck was on his side, it was. Nothing, not nobody, could
stop him when his mind was set. If the luck of the Irish was what he had, then
it was about time the luck was shared.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
It started as a tingle when he touched the coin. Dean didn’t think much of it,
though. It looked pretty cool, four-leaved clover stamped on one side,
completely gold. He slipped it into his pocket, a memento from a random town
they’d happened to pass through on a Hunt.
He hardly noticed the few women who hit on him when he walked into the bar, or
the old ladies who seemed to gravitate toward him in the diner the next day.
Even the way the townies seemed a bit too neighborly didn’t register with Dean.
It wasn’t until the following night when, instead of getting upset when Dean
beat him at pool, the man he was playing decided to toss him up against the
wall, and kissed him instead. The man’s lips were full and skilled, but Dean
pushed him away. As attractive as he was, he wasn’t Sammy or John, and it felt
weird to kiss a man who wasn’t family. And, damn, didn’t that make him sick as
fuck to think, but it was true.
Dean pushed firmly against the man’s shoulders to break it off, but he wouldn’t
budge. He covered Dean’s body with his own, grinding against him and stealing
Dean’s breath away with every press of his lips. It was shock, he told himself,
that made him forget his training. A poltergeist, a windego, a freaking demon
for christsakes, and he would have had no problem kicking some major ass. Some
drunk guy, though, bringing his hand up to secure Dean’s lips while they
forcefully made out, and he was frozen in shock.
Luckily, he didn’t stay that way for long.
“Get the fuck offa him!” he heard from his left.
Dean recognized the voice before he saw his father tear the man away from him.
He didn’t see much beyond that because he was leaning against the wall, gasping
for breath. Why the hell couldn’t he breathe right?
“Dean? You alright?” John asked.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, coughing a little.
“Uh.” There was a short pause, and Dean could tell from his tone of voice that
things could get bad very quickly. “We should get out of here. Come on, son.”
With a hand to the back of his neck—it felt rough, but firm, comforting—Dean
was led outside and directly to the Impala, catching hungry glimpses of every
person in the bar.
“Hey, baby!” a woman called from across the street. “Wanna have a good time?”
“He’s not legal,” John called back, slightly angry, though Dean wasn’t sure
why. It wasn’t the first time he’d been approached by a hooker and it probably
wouldn’t be the last.
“Never stopped me before, baby!” Then the woman turned and laughed with her
friends, though when she faced him again, Dean could make out the familiar
glint of arousal in her eye, mimicked in the expression of everyone around her.
“Dad?” he asked, a little worried.
“Get in the car, Dean.” The tone was no-nonsense, so he didn’t argue, slipping
into the passenger seat and buckling up.
They drove in silence to the house they were staying in. Dean watched his
father grip the steering wheel tighter and tighter with every passing mile.
Then they were in the driveway and John was outside, away from Dean and looking
more relaxed the further away he got.
“Dad?” he asked, worried now, following him into the house. “What the hell is
going on?”
“Dean?” Sammy asked from the bed as they entered. His eyes went black with lust
and nothing was going to stop him from having every part of Dean. He went from
the bed to across the room in less then three seconds, parted Dean’s lips with
his own in a few more. He jumped up, wrapped himself around Dean and struggled
with the fact that Dean wasn’t showing enough skin for his liking.
“Sammy,” John ordered. “Get down.”
Sam didn’t show any indication of having heard the order. He just bucked his
hips against Dean’s stroking Dean’s cock through his jeans. Dean slipped his
tongue into Sam’s mouth and the younger boy moaned, pressing for moremoremore,
until Dean obliged.
“Deeeeeeeean,” Sammy keened. “Need –ne –need…” and he trailed off, in favor of
capturing Dean’s mouth again with his own.
John was tired of holding back. In the bar, it had been obvious that Dean was
unwilling to do whatever that man had in mind—and John had half a mind to go
back out and find him, just to kick his ass for laying a finger on his son—but
Dean was more than willing now, and to hold back when his eldest son wanted,
was more than he was capable.
“Don’t worry, baby boy,” Dean whispered when his mouth wasn’t occupied. “I’ve
got you. Dad?” Dean asked, somewhat nervously when John came up behind him to
mouth at his neck.
“Mmmm?”
“What are you –ou –u, ohgod.” And Dean’s mind went blank of anything but the
feel of his father’s mouth on him and Sammy’s cock against his own and the
tingling sensation he could feel down his spine in anticipation when his
father’s hand slipped down the back of his jeans and a thick finger circled,
circled, pressed gently inside his hole before retreating out only to circle
again.
“Dean, Dean, need,” Sammy said, still only capable of single syllable words,
whole sentences beyond him at the moment. Then Sammy was gone, off of Dean
completely. Only John’s bracing hands kept him from falling after
overcompensating for a missing Sammy.
Sam’s hands were still on him, though, reaching, touching, grasping. They
trembled as they methodically removed his clothing, having to push John out of
the way for a moment to get his shirt off. John’s anger was abrupt and
frightening, but was gone the instant he recognized his youngest son and what
he’d been trying to do. Then, it was all John could do not to rip the clothing
off himself.
Dean was naked. Sam was naked. Seconds later, John was naked. There wasn’t
anything holding them back then.
Sam spread himself out on the bed, practically begging Dean to just come over
and fuck him already, but Dean was busy with John and his wandering hands. They
ghosted over his arms and sides, tweaking his nipples gently before moving
lower to stroke at his cock. Dean gasped when he felt John’s fingers inside of
him—two this time—moving in pace with his slow strokes. Dean moaned against his
father’s shoulder, biting down when the twist of his fingers hit that spot just
right. He tasted blood, but none of that mattered to him in that moment. With
the pleasure-pain of John inside of him, there wasn’t much that could pull him
out of it.
Then Sammy’s voice broke through the fog and Dean turned to listen, forgetting
everything that didn’t revolve around his brother.
“Dean?” Sammy asked, and his voice sounded so broken, so dejected and alone,
that Dean had to turn away from his father to go to him. “Dean? Please?”
“Don’t worry, Sammy,” Dean said, pressing a kiss to his naval. “I told you I’ve
got you, didn’t I?”
Sam nodded.
“Then lemme take care of you.”
He breached Sam’s hole with one finger, surprised to find him already slick and
stretched for him.
“You ready for me, Sammy?’
Sam nodded frantically, head bobbing. “Always,” he gasped. “Always ready for
you, Dean. Always.”
Dean lined his cock up with Sam’s hole and pushed until he was fully sheathed
inside, Sam moaning and gasping loudly into the sheets. Dean thanked whoever
was listening that they were squatting instead of renting a hotel room, no
neighbors in sight.
John’s hands never lost contact with Dean’s skin. They roamed and pinched,
rubbed and plucked, his fingers working in and out of Dean at a leisurely pace.
Dean matched his father, driving his cock into Sammy’s stretched out hole in
time with the fingers, angling to reach that perfect spot. Dean found Sam’s
prostate at the same time his father crooked his fingers just right. They
gasped in synch, hips stuttering.
“So close, Sammy,” Dean mumbled. His thrusts sped up, a need building in him
just waiting for release. Every drive inside Sam’s hole was pleasure, every nip
at his neck, heaven.
“Gonna, gonna, Dean!”Sammy came with his brother’s name on his lips, cock
spewing strand after strand of come across his belly.
Dean followed not too far behind, shooting deep inside of Sam, riding out the
waves until he was too tired to keep going. Once the high wore off a bit, he
could feel the rapidly-cool stick of his father’s release against his back and
he smirked in response, even as he felt his limbs turn to jelly.
Dean collapse against the bed, panting heavily while John and Sam kissed and
licked their way up and down his body. Their recent orgasms did nothing to cool
their erections and the hungry look in their eyes didn’t dim in the slightest.
Dean lifted his neck to look at them, legs too weak and lazy to stand and arms
as limp as noodles beside him.
It was going to be a long night.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
When Dean woke, John and Sam were curled up together beside him, still sleeping
off last night’s activities. Dean snuck out of bed and dressed quickly,
slipping a couple of twenties in his pocket before walking the half-mile to the
diner for breakfast. He ordered three specials and tried his best to ignore how
every eye was trained on him, feeling like prey in a roomful of vultures. He
shivered when the waitress came out with his order and leaned in uncomfortably
close to hand it to him. He thanked her anyway and darted for the door as
quickly as humanly possible.
He paused in the doorway. There, on the corner across the street from him, was
the little man he’d seen the day before, sipping his beer on a stool at the
bar. He tilted his hat at Dean and shot him a knowing smirk, not the smallest
amount of arousal in the gaze, and sauntered away, cane tapping rhythmically
against the cement.
Dean’s brow creased in confusion until he remembered the coin still in his
pocket, stamped with a four leaf clover. He palmed the coin and continued back
to the house on the edge of town. John and Sammy were still asleep when he
walked in, covers strewn about every which way. Dean put on a pot of coffee as
the events of the night before were put into perspective.
Sam groaned and stretched, eyelids fluttering open, immediately seeking Dean.
Sam’s cock flared back to life and he licked his lips in anticipation. Dean
swallowed loudly. Maybe there was some credibility to this whole luck of the
Irish thing after all.
End Notes
     Next installment to go up in a few days. Stay tuned ;) If you like
     it, let me know. Comment!
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