
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6767134.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Mary_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Mary_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Dubious_Consent, Somnophilia, Vaginal_Fingering, Parent/Child_Incest,
      First_Time
  Collections:
      SPN_Kink_Bingo
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-06 Words: 1638
****** Mama's Boy ******
by thedropoutandthejunkie_(elenajames)
Summary
     Dean's haunted by nightmares ever since his father died in a
     housefire. Mary sees no issue with letting her oldest seek comfort
     and safety in her bed.
Notes
     This is written for SPN Kink Bingo.
     Square Filled: Bed Sharing.
Dean’s had nightmares on and off ever since John died. The fire had left her
little boy with anxiety and fears of losing her and Sam, so it wasn’t unusual
for Dean to creep into Mary’s bed when the nightmares kept him from sleep. Of
course, a lot of adults would argue that 16 was too old to be seeking the
comfort of a parent’s bed from nightmares, but Mary never much cared for what
other people had to say. Dean and Sam were her boys, and she’d raise them
however she saw fit.
 
Sixteen means Dean’s hit his growth spurt, getting tall and losing more of his
baby fat. He’s pretty with long lashes and green eyes, splashes of cinnamon
freckles all over his pale skin. Mary’s seen boys and girls alike looking at
her son, and each time fills her with a mix of pride and jealousy. She knows,
deep down, that whoever wins Dean’s heart is going to have a difficult time
living up to her standards. (Sammy, thankfully, is still too young to be
thinking about dating; Mary’s hoping for another year or two before she has to
deal with that for him, too.)
 
Sixteen also means that Dean’s waking more and more frequently to demanding
erections. More than once, Mary’s watched him stumbling out of her room before
he thought she’d be awake, cock tenting his shorts visibly even in the low
light of morning. She’s treated the stains on his sheets and clothes, fingers
just brushing against the flaky patches.
 
He wakes her one night, moaning softly and hips gently rolling in his sleep.
Curled up on his side, his cock just bumps her hip, damp cotton dragging along
the fabric of her nightie until it’s rucked it up so he’s brushing her bare
thigh. It only takes a little tug to have his cock poking out of the flap in
his boxers, and Mary finds herself watching the thick shape of it in the dark;
Dean’s hung like his father, sending a dirty shiver through her that tingles
right down to her pussy.
 
With tentative fingers, Mary grips her son’s cock, feeling precome slick her
palm. Dean ruts instinctively into the circle of her fingers, his soft sounds
adding to the wetness between her legs as she watches him fuck her hand. He
comes quickly, much to her surprise and a part of her has to wonder if her
little boy has any experience at all. She tries not to imagine all the things
she could teach him.
 
Dean’s gone in the morning, his mess only partially cleaned up, but she smiles
at the attempt he’d made before leaving. Mary doesn’t say a word, sure that
he’ll be embarrassed if she does. He’s never come in her bed before, not even
when he was younger, so she pretends not to notice the blush in his cheeks when
he comes down for breakfast.
 
It’s another week before she wakes up with a tingle in her belly and a moan in
her throat. A few hazy moments pass before she realizes that Dean has his hand
in her panties, careful fingers gently stroking over her. One dips in just
enough to graze her clit, and Mary can’t hold back the slight buck of her hips
and the moan the touch drives up her throat. Dean nearly pulls away then, but
she just catches his wrist to stop him.
 
“It’s okay, baby. You can touch. You’ve never done this before, have you?” And
like Mary expected, Dean whispers  no  into the dark. “Okay, sweetheart. You
just keep doing what you were doing, nice and easy, okay?”
 
Mary spreads her legs a little, giving Dean room to slip his hand back down
between her thighs. He doesn’t seem to mind the catch of the waistband against
his wrist, even though Mary knows it has to be cutting in. His body is warm
against her side, and Mary reaches up with one free hand to pet through his
hair and down his jawline. Gentle fingers tease and touch, probing carefully as
her slick wets them. He pets her curls and slides one finger back between them
to brush her clit. The touch is light, a little circular movement just the way
she likes.
 
“Just like that, Dean,” she praises quietly, pulling her fingers down his face
until he dips down so their mouths can meet. “That’s my sweet little boy.” The
words are half muffled against his lips, but Dean makes a soft sound anyway,
hips rocking so his hard cock presses into her side.
 
“Dean,” Mary coaxes, nudging his hand from between her legs so she can sit up,
pushing her panties down and off as she goes. He’s wide-eyed in the dark, half
light from the street lamp only just allowing them to make out each other’s
features. “Come here.” Laying back down, Mary spreads her thighs and pats one,
watching as Dean nervously makes his way over to kneel between them.
 
She has to draw him down into a kiss, able to hear how fast his breathing has
gotten and feel the race of his heartbeat under her hand when she presses it to
his chest. Touching seems to rev Dean up and relax him at the same time, some
of the tension bleeding out of him even as his heart pounds.
 
Mary gasps when one hand cups her breast, bare beneath the cotton of her
nightie. Dean’s palm is warm and broad, and one thumb sweeps over the peak of
her nipple through the fabric. His other hand comes up, shaking slightly as he
undoes the buttons holding the top of the nightgown together. They both suck in
a breath when he touches her bare breast, fingertip tracing along her stiff
nipple and palm pressing against the warm, soft skin.
 
With a careful hand behind his neck, Mary guides Dean down. His mouth is warm
and wet, suckling and licking tentatively. His inexperience is evident -
arousing. Mary murmurs words of praise absently, letting him know what she
likes best as he teases her with his lips. The barest scrape of teeth makes her
hiss, and he nearly apologizes until she breathes out “Again.” Dean nips
gently, holding her nipple between his teeth and tugging just a little, moan
mixing with hers in the quiet of the room. Mary’s silently grateful that Sammy
sleeps like the dead.
 
Pushing up into the kiss Dean initiates, Mary reaches a hand between him to tug
at his boxers, pulling them down and off slim hips and thighs. Dean helps,
kicking them off. He’s hard and damp in her palm, and Mary gives a couple of
strokes just to feel him.
 
“You can say no, Dean,” she murmurs, settling back onto the bed. Despite her
words, she guides his cockhead to her pussy, holding it just so that’s it’s
nudging against her hole.
 
“Please.” Dean’s voice sounds strained, and she smiles up at him in the dark.
Letting go of his cock, she skates her hand up his side.
 
“Go on, baby.”
 
Thick, so thick as he sinks into her that it makes her gasp and clutch at his
arms. She’s hardly been with anyone since losing John, and the sensation of
that first thrust is achingly good.
 
Dean’s not going to last long, not this first time. He’s shaking, thrusting
stutteringly at first. Mary rolls her hips to guide him, petting along his
shoulders when he finally catches her pace and pumps evenly in and out,
jackrabbit fast like only young men can be.
 
“Mom,” he chokes, dropping his face to the space between her bare breasts. He
trembles as he comes, and Mary can’t help but soothe him even though her body
is throbbing, desperate for an orgasm.
 
“Shh, Dean. It’s okay. Was that good, baby?” He nods weakly against her,
brushes a kiss along one breast.
 
“Love you, Mom.”
 
“Love you, too, sweetheart.” Mary helps him sit up and pull out. He curls up
beside her, one hand tracing idly over her chest and belly. Come and her wet
are sticky and thick between her thighs, seeping down to leave a wet spot on
the sheets. Feeling the quiver of arousal through her, Mary dips her own
fingers down to touch her clit.
 
“Let me?” Dean asks quietly. His fingers replace hers, but he’s obviously not
trying to get her off. Mary allows him to explore, biting back a groan when she
realizes he’s quickly getting hard again.
 
Dean takes the initiative this time, rolling on top of her and settling between
her thighs. He sinks in with no hesitation, rolling his hips.
 
“Want to make you feel good, Mom. Show me?”
 
Wrapping her legs around his waist, Mary rocks her hips up into his thrusts.
She tugs his hand back down to her, guides his fingers in faster and firmer
strokes until they hit a pace that’s definitely driving her toward orgasm.
 
“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” she says breathlessly, dropping her hands to
clutch at the sheets. Dean watches her intently, mouth open as he pants,
expression almost overwhelmed.
 
Mary arches as she comes, clapping her own hand over her mouth to muffle the
cry that almost breaks free. Dean thrusts doggedly through her orgasm, deep and
quick, almost certain to leave an ache that she’ll feel in the morning as he
pushes through her tightened muscles. He comes as quietly this time as he did
the first, twitching slightly until his body goes lax.
 
Dean pulls out and drops down beside her, snuggling close as he always does.
Mary tugs the sheets up the bed, covering them back up. Dean’s hair smells like
sweat, and the room smells like come. She’ll have to air it out tomorrow, just
in case.
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