Passing the Torch (Sam/Mary/Caleb)
Oct. 2nd, 2009 12:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tehdirtiestsockbecause some of you wanted to know what the rest of the family was up to in St. Louis :) and also because Sammy wasn't getting enough love.
Training!verse master post. EXTREME underage.
Unlike the rest of his family, Sam is fully aware of how fucked up they are. He likes to read—literature and textbooks and online newspapers. He kept studying long after he finished his high school diploma, and sometimes he wonders if he could have a college degree by now.
So yeah, he knows how taboo the world considers incest, how strange most people would consider it that they practice openly, and he knows that the state would take any minors away in a heartbeat if they knew the kinds of things that go on in their house.
He just doesn’t care.
The law considers what happened to him abuse, but at twenty, Sam doesn’t feel damaged by what he’s done. Neither does Dean. Eliza’s perfectly happy, and little Caleb will no doubt grow up fine too. The textbooks say that he feels this way as a coping mechanism, but it’s kind of semantics, right? If you don’t feel bad until someone tells you you should feel bad, does that mean you’re in denial or just that you never felt bad in the first place?
Sure, Sam wishes he could go to college. He wishes he didn’t have to lie about his family so much. He wishes he’d learned latin as a quirky hobby and not a survival tactic. But the closeness, the stability, the affection of his family? Not something Sam has any desire to change. It’s what makes the other shit tolerable.
They’re in a hotel in St. Louis…probably because Dad is finally fucking Eliza and he’s afraid Sam will get jealous. And ok, Sam kinda is, but Dad also forgets that Sam is a grown man now and doesn’t need to be distracted by some shiny object every time he doesn’t get his way. They’ve had many arguments to that effect, though Dean likes to tell him that acting like a bitchy little girl about it doesn’t help his case.
Anyway, Caleb’s never been to a big city before so this is good too. Sam shows him the kid’s museum and the zoo and the natural history museum. He’s nuts for fossils. He’s young but pretty sharp and God knows if Sam leaves these things up to Dean, then Caleb will never get a proper education.
Just because the kid’s literally inbred doesn’t mean he can’t have some culture, too. Not that Sam would say that to Dean’s face. Dean, who is cheerfully oblivious to how fucked up it is for Caleb to have a Mom, a Dad, and a Daddy, and siblings who are also his uncle and aunt. Sam’s brother is the king of selective denial.
Anyway, Dean’s probably dicking their sister as they speak, so Sam figures it’s not out of bounds for him to broaden Caleb’s learning in other areas as well. Fair trade.
Mom certainly hasn’t stopped him.
Sam holds her knees against the hotel bedspread, keeping her splayed out for a nice clear view. Caleb is crouched in front of him, face buried against her pubes as he makes clumsy, exaggerated circles around her clit with his tongue.
He sits up and looks at Sam for approval, licking his lips, and Sam laughs. “Tastes good, huh?”
“Messy.” This is definitely Dean’s kid because it’s not a complaint. He’s grinning ear to ear, face shiny.
“That means you’re doing it right,” Sam jokes dryly.
Caleb claps, proud of himself, and Sam cracks up. “Ok, now I want you to wrap your lips around her clit—“ Sam thumbs it roughly in illustration, and Mom’s hips strain upward. “And suck on it. Here, gimme your finger, I’ll show you how.”
Caleb bites his lip and watches with big, earnest eyes as Sam draws the tip of his little finger between his lips, tongue tracing quick patterns against the flesh. “No teeth, got it?”
He nods seriously and crouches down in front of her wide-open cunt, applying himself whole-heartedly to the task. Noisy, too…he sounds like Dean slurping soup. Caleb’s too young to coordinate that many actions at once but he must be doing something right, because Mom arches against the bed, moaning. The ropes securing her wrists to the bedposts creak as she pulls the knots tighter. He’s gonna have to cut them off of her, at this rate.
Sam lets Caleb eat her out until Mom is swearing, a sure sign that she’s feeling on edge—Mom and Dad have always avoided cussing in front of them at this age, “cock” and “dick” and “cunt” notwithstanding. Dad sometimes swore in the heat of the moment, but Mom’s always been bent on providing some ‘normalcy.’ Swear jars and blowjobs…that’s the Winchester way.
Caleb’s mouth must be exhausted by then. He hasn’t slowed down much, but Sam learned the hard way not to underestimate how badly Caleb wants to impress him.
He worships Sam the way that Sam worshiped Dean at his age.
“That’s amazing, buddy, look how wet you got her. Here, gimme a kiss.”
Sam feels a wave of warmth at the Deanness of Caleb’s expression when he’s proud of himself, a warm little bundle in Sam’s arms. His mouth is sloppy from Mom and Sam licks it clean, sucking lightly on Caleb’s full bottom lip.
That’s about as much sweetness as Caleb can take…he has a shorter attention span than his dad, and soon he’s wriggling in Sam’s arms. Mom is still sprawled bare, flushed from watching them make out, and she really deserves to get off. Caleb’s starting to flag though…the plan had been to teach him how to fist Mom, but Sam doesn’t think that’s happening tonight.
He’s that restless kind of sleepy that means a tantrum could be headed their way. Sure enough, he presses his forehead against Sam’s shoulder, voice thick with fatigue as he complains, “I want you to suck it.”
“I have a better idea,” Sam tells him, inspiration striking. “How would you like to fuck Mommy?”
That wakes Caleb up in a hurry. Mom lifts her eyebrows, smirking when Sam winks at her.
Really, it’s more like smearing his little dick and hairless balls around on Mom’s cunt, but tomato, tomahto. From the way Caleb’s whining and grunting once he gets into it, it clearly feels amazing, and the kid’s proud of himself, even if Sam has to help him thrust because he gets tired before he can come. Shit, Sam’s actually a little jealous. If he could fit his entire cock and balls inside somewhere warm and wet, you’d better believe he would.
Caleb’s total dead weight after he gets off, down for the count, and Sam maneuvers his noodly limbs into jammies. Then he tucks the kid in on a makeshift bed of two pushed-together chairs. He’s getting too big to sleep like that for long, but Sam plans to keep the bed rocking for a while yet, so this is better for the next few hours. He strokes his nephew’s—baby brother’s—hair and feels his dick twitch a little when Caleb’s thumb slides unerringly into his mouth.
No way in hell Sam could fit his cock in there yet, but Jesus it’s tempting.
“You know, I can’t feel my hands anymore.” He can tell that Mom was following the gist of his thoughts…she has that smile. “And I haven’t even gotten off for my troubles.”
Sam grins, returning to the bed and straddling her prone form. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
“Yeah, I’ll make it personal,” she mutters, but when he sinks his teeth into her nipple she just wraps her legs around his hips, begging him inside.
Sam enjoys that first little thrill of power when he arches his hips away, no contact with her pussy at all. When she swears and struggles beneath him. This is a game Sam can only get away with when Dad’s not around. She likes it rough sometimes, dirty and a little cruel, but it makes Dad uncomfortable. Dean, too.
Sam’s ok with using his size and strength against her, when she’s in the mood. God, he gets off on it.
He clucks his tongue. “That bad, huh? You’re that hard up for it. Can’t believe my mother’s such a slut.”
“Sam,” she tries in mom-voice, but she’s flushed, horny, and it just makes him laugh.
“Nuh-uh, you asked for this. Not my mom right now, you’re just my whore. Bet you’d thank me for anything I put between your legs right now, wouldn’t you, whore?”
She closes her eyes. “Sammy,” she begs, because sometimes she has trouble letting go. Sam suspects her own father, his namesake, was a total dick to her. He’s pretty sure Dad doesn’t know, or Sam wouldn’t be Sam. They’d’ve picked another name. But Sam’s read the literature and thinks maybe…it’s good that he can give her this, that another Samuel can make it right. She relaxes when he strokes her hair. Trust me.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Anything,” she says this time, and Sam himself relaxes.
“Anything but little boy dick, I guess, because you had that and it wasn’t enough.” She shakes her head, licking her lips. “What about little boy fist? I think you’re a slut for that…you used to beg me til I put half my goddamn forearm up there.”
Sam laughs to himself when her legs tighten around his waist, trying to lift herself up to rub against him. Because yeah, doesn’t that memory turn her the fuck on. It also gives Sam a new plan.
“What if I made you take my fist now?” Her eyes fly open and lock on his. “My whole, man-sized fist, back where it belongs. I think I like that idea, it’s got symmetry. So that’s your offer, whore. You get my fist, or you get nothing.”
She’s breathing hard, and for a second, Sam thinks he triggered something bad. But then she licks her lips with a dry, rasping sound and nods her head. His heart starts pounding, because, holy fuck, she’ll let him do it.
“I think a good whore would beg for it,” he says, a little too breathless to be commanding. Mom bites the inside of her lip, trying not to smile at the tell.
The only bad thing Sam finds about fucking his mom is that sometimes she finds him adorable at inappropriate moments. It soothes his ego a little when he pulls her head back to an awkward angle and her breath hitches.
“Want it. Want your whole fucking fist shoved up inside me. Please.”
Shit. Sam squeezes the base of his dick and climbs off the bed to find the lube…she’s wet but it might not be enough for this.
He can start out with three fingers, easy—she’s had four kids, and gets laid all the time, so it’s not even long before he can graduate up to four. But she moans low and long at four like she feels the stretch, and that’s Sam’s first inkling how loud this is gonna get. Good thing they checked in as man and wife. The desk clerk thought Mom was a total cougar but…well…guilty as charged.
He spends a good long while fucking her hard and fast with four fingers, flat out across. The web of his thumb hits her clit every time he bottoms out and she comes so loud he’s surprised there’s no one banging on their door.
Fitting his thumb inside presents a whole other level of difficulty. He can only get the tip in before his knuckles become an issue. It makes a considerably bigger girth than his fingers alone.
Mom’s hands curl around the ropes as he tries to ease them through, legs spread as far as they’ll go. She’s whimpering, hips bobbing in an attempt to take him in. “Christ, you slut.”
He forces his knuckles in at the gush of wetness that brings—knew it would bring, and Christ, now is not the time to consider Mom’s self-esteem issues or the beat-down Dad would give him if he ever heard Sam call her that, because his whole hand is in her cunt, almost to the wrist.
She’s panting and clenching around him so hard it could probably push him out, and then she pants a little faster and comes, gushing. Before he ever moves inside her.
Jesus. Then again, his knuckles have probably made a new home against her g-spot.
She collapses, sweating but more relaxed around his hand now, and all Sam can think about is how he’d like to go deeper. His fingers are already butting against her cervix, but if he could….
Curling his fingers from their current position into a true fist, inside of a woman’s cunt, is way harder than Sam imagined. He imagines it feels pretty funky from her end, too, because suddenly Mom is thrashing around again, legs trying to close on his arm, body trembling.
“SamSamSam—“ Overwhelmed and a little panicky like she’s not sure if this is good or bad.
He rubs her stomach with his free hand, soothing, restraining. The hood of her clit is stretched from the girth of him…it doesn’t take much at all to drive her back over the edge, sucking and licking til she sobs out his name. She comes like a freight train, violent, and his hand is curled in on itself before she’s any kind of coherent.
Now that he’s made a fist, she swallows him up to the wrist. God, his dick aches. He fucks her experimentally, and the strangled noise she makes is exhausted. From the outside he can feel his knuckles if he presses down at the edge of her pelvic bone. He’s big and hard inside her, and she moans, writhing listlessly.
“Take it,” he breathes. He’s never seen her fucked out quite like this, insensate from what’s being done to her. “Fuck, take it.”
She twitches like a marionette when he fucks her harder, a protesting noise weak in her throat. But she doesn’t argue, can’t even open her eyes. Her lids flutter with the too-much of his hand inside her, the controlled punch of his fist against her guts.
Tired gasps rise up as he presses a fourth orgasm out of her. His fist is soaked when he pulls it out of her cunt and wraps it around his own cock, slick like her and tighter than she could hope to be just now. It only takes three or four tugs before he’s coming all over her stomach.
Not that she’s conscious anymore.
She’s breathing even and deep as he frees her wrists and rubs the circulation back into her hands. She always sleeps heavy after he’s made her hurt, and he’ll have to be extra sweet tomorrow. There’s a softness to her underbelly that she doesn’t often show except for the days after the nights like these. Mom’s always been the tough one, a force all her own, but tomorrow she’ll need looking after.
He cleans them both up gently without waking her, though Caleb surfaces enough to grumble sleepily as Sam moves him to the bed. Sam smiles at the way he gravitates towards Mom immediately, face buried against her breast.
Training!verse master post. EXTREME underage.
Unlike the rest of his family, Sam is fully aware of how fucked up they are. He likes to read—literature and textbooks and online newspapers. He kept studying long after he finished his high school diploma, and sometimes he wonders if he could have a college degree by now.
So yeah, he knows how taboo the world considers incest, how strange most people would consider it that they practice openly, and he knows that the state would take any minors away in a heartbeat if they knew the kinds of things that go on in their house.
He just doesn’t care.
The law considers what happened to him abuse, but at twenty, Sam doesn’t feel damaged by what he’s done. Neither does Dean. Eliza’s perfectly happy, and little Caleb will no doubt grow up fine too. The textbooks say that he feels this way as a coping mechanism, but it’s kind of semantics, right? If you don’t feel bad until someone tells you you should feel bad, does that mean you’re in denial or just that you never felt bad in the first place?
Sure, Sam wishes he could go to college. He wishes he didn’t have to lie about his family so much. He wishes he’d learned latin as a quirky hobby and not a survival tactic. But the closeness, the stability, the affection of his family? Not something Sam has any desire to change. It’s what makes the other shit tolerable.
They’re in a hotel in St. Louis…probably because Dad is finally fucking Eliza and he’s afraid Sam will get jealous. And ok, Sam kinda is, but Dad also forgets that Sam is a grown man now and doesn’t need to be distracted by some shiny object every time he doesn’t get his way. They’ve had many arguments to that effect, though Dean likes to tell him that acting like a bitchy little girl about it doesn’t help his case.
Anyway, Caleb’s never been to a big city before so this is good too. Sam shows him the kid’s museum and the zoo and the natural history museum. He’s nuts for fossils. He’s young but pretty sharp and God knows if Sam leaves these things up to Dean, then Caleb will never get a proper education.
Just because the kid’s literally inbred doesn’t mean he can’t have some culture, too. Not that Sam would say that to Dean’s face. Dean, who is cheerfully oblivious to how fucked up it is for Caleb to have a Mom, a Dad, and a Daddy, and siblings who are also his uncle and aunt. Sam’s brother is the king of selective denial.
Anyway, Dean’s probably dicking their sister as they speak, so Sam figures it’s not out of bounds for him to broaden Caleb’s learning in other areas as well. Fair trade.
Mom certainly hasn’t stopped him.
Sam holds her knees against the hotel bedspread, keeping her splayed out for a nice clear view. Caleb is crouched in front of him, face buried against her pubes as he makes clumsy, exaggerated circles around her clit with his tongue.
He sits up and looks at Sam for approval, licking his lips, and Sam laughs. “Tastes good, huh?”
“Messy.” This is definitely Dean’s kid because it’s not a complaint. He’s grinning ear to ear, face shiny.
“That means you’re doing it right,” Sam jokes dryly.
Caleb claps, proud of himself, and Sam cracks up. “Ok, now I want you to wrap your lips around her clit—“ Sam thumbs it roughly in illustration, and Mom’s hips strain upward. “And suck on it. Here, gimme your finger, I’ll show you how.”
Caleb bites his lip and watches with big, earnest eyes as Sam draws the tip of his little finger between his lips, tongue tracing quick patterns against the flesh. “No teeth, got it?”
He nods seriously and crouches down in front of her wide-open cunt, applying himself whole-heartedly to the task. Noisy, too…he sounds like Dean slurping soup. Caleb’s too young to coordinate that many actions at once but he must be doing something right, because Mom arches against the bed, moaning. The ropes securing her wrists to the bedposts creak as she pulls the knots tighter. He’s gonna have to cut them off of her, at this rate.
Sam lets Caleb eat her out until Mom is swearing, a sure sign that she’s feeling on edge—Mom and Dad have always avoided cussing in front of them at this age, “cock” and “dick” and “cunt” notwithstanding. Dad sometimes swore in the heat of the moment, but Mom’s always been bent on providing some ‘normalcy.’ Swear jars and blowjobs…that’s the Winchester way.
Caleb’s mouth must be exhausted by then. He hasn’t slowed down much, but Sam learned the hard way not to underestimate how badly Caleb wants to impress him.
He worships Sam the way that Sam worshiped Dean at his age.
“That’s amazing, buddy, look how wet you got her. Here, gimme a kiss.”
Sam feels a wave of warmth at the Deanness of Caleb’s expression when he’s proud of himself, a warm little bundle in Sam’s arms. His mouth is sloppy from Mom and Sam licks it clean, sucking lightly on Caleb’s full bottom lip.
That’s about as much sweetness as Caleb can take…he has a shorter attention span than his dad, and soon he’s wriggling in Sam’s arms. Mom is still sprawled bare, flushed from watching them make out, and she really deserves to get off. Caleb’s starting to flag though…the plan had been to teach him how to fist Mom, but Sam doesn’t think that’s happening tonight.
He’s that restless kind of sleepy that means a tantrum could be headed their way. Sure enough, he presses his forehead against Sam’s shoulder, voice thick with fatigue as he complains, “I want you to suck it.”
“I have a better idea,” Sam tells him, inspiration striking. “How would you like to fuck Mommy?”
That wakes Caleb up in a hurry. Mom lifts her eyebrows, smirking when Sam winks at her.
Really, it’s more like smearing his little dick and hairless balls around on Mom’s cunt, but tomato, tomahto. From the way Caleb’s whining and grunting once he gets into it, it clearly feels amazing, and the kid’s proud of himself, even if Sam has to help him thrust because he gets tired before he can come. Shit, Sam’s actually a little jealous. If he could fit his entire cock and balls inside somewhere warm and wet, you’d better believe he would.
Caleb’s total dead weight after he gets off, down for the count, and Sam maneuvers his noodly limbs into jammies. Then he tucks the kid in on a makeshift bed of two pushed-together chairs. He’s getting too big to sleep like that for long, but Sam plans to keep the bed rocking for a while yet, so this is better for the next few hours. He strokes his nephew’s—baby brother’s—hair and feels his dick twitch a little when Caleb’s thumb slides unerringly into his mouth.
No way in hell Sam could fit his cock in there yet, but Jesus it’s tempting.
“You know, I can’t feel my hands anymore.” He can tell that Mom was following the gist of his thoughts…she has that smile. “And I haven’t even gotten off for my troubles.”
Sam grins, returning to the bed and straddling her prone form. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
“Yeah, I’ll make it personal,” she mutters, but when he sinks his teeth into her nipple she just wraps her legs around his hips, begging him inside.
Sam enjoys that first little thrill of power when he arches his hips away, no contact with her pussy at all. When she swears and struggles beneath him. This is a game Sam can only get away with when Dad’s not around. She likes it rough sometimes, dirty and a little cruel, but it makes Dad uncomfortable. Dean, too.
Sam’s ok with using his size and strength against her, when she’s in the mood. God, he gets off on it.
He clucks his tongue. “That bad, huh? You’re that hard up for it. Can’t believe my mother’s such a slut.”
“Sam,” she tries in mom-voice, but she’s flushed, horny, and it just makes him laugh.
“Nuh-uh, you asked for this. Not my mom right now, you’re just my whore. Bet you’d thank me for anything I put between your legs right now, wouldn’t you, whore?”
She closes her eyes. “Sammy,” she begs, because sometimes she has trouble letting go. Sam suspects her own father, his namesake, was a total dick to her. He’s pretty sure Dad doesn’t know, or Sam wouldn’t be Sam. They’d’ve picked another name. But Sam’s read the literature and thinks maybe…it’s good that he can give her this, that another Samuel can make it right. She relaxes when he strokes her hair. Trust me.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Anything,” she says this time, and Sam himself relaxes.
“Anything but little boy dick, I guess, because you had that and it wasn’t enough.” She shakes her head, licking her lips. “What about little boy fist? I think you’re a slut for that…you used to beg me til I put half my goddamn forearm up there.”
Sam laughs to himself when her legs tighten around his waist, trying to lift herself up to rub against him. Because yeah, doesn’t that memory turn her the fuck on. It also gives Sam a new plan.
“What if I made you take my fist now?” Her eyes fly open and lock on his. “My whole, man-sized fist, back where it belongs. I think I like that idea, it’s got symmetry. So that’s your offer, whore. You get my fist, or you get nothing.”
She’s breathing hard, and for a second, Sam thinks he triggered something bad. But then she licks her lips with a dry, rasping sound and nods her head. His heart starts pounding, because, holy fuck, she’ll let him do it.
“I think a good whore would beg for it,” he says, a little too breathless to be commanding. Mom bites the inside of her lip, trying not to smile at the tell.
The only bad thing Sam finds about fucking his mom is that sometimes she finds him adorable at inappropriate moments. It soothes his ego a little when he pulls her head back to an awkward angle and her breath hitches.
“Want it. Want your whole fucking fist shoved up inside me. Please.”
Shit. Sam squeezes the base of his dick and climbs off the bed to find the lube…she’s wet but it might not be enough for this.
He can start out with three fingers, easy—she’s had four kids, and gets laid all the time, so it’s not even long before he can graduate up to four. But she moans low and long at four like she feels the stretch, and that’s Sam’s first inkling how loud this is gonna get. Good thing they checked in as man and wife. The desk clerk thought Mom was a total cougar but…well…guilty as charged.
He spends a good long while fucking her hard and fast with four fingers, flat out across. The web of his thumb hits her clit every time he bottoms out and she comes so loud he’s surprised there’s no one banging on their door.
Fitting his thumb inside presents a whole other level of difficulty. He can only get the tip in before his knuckles become an issue. It makes a considerably bigger girth than his fingers alone.
Mom’s hands curl around the ropes as he tries to ease them through, legs spread as far as they’ll go. She’s whimpering, hips bobbing in an attempt to take him in. “Christ, you slut.”
He forces his knuckles in at the gush of wetness that brings—knew it would bring, and Christ, now is not the time to consider Mom’s self-esteem issues or the beat-down Dad would give him if he ever heard Sam call her that, because his whole hand is in her cunt, almost to the wrist.
She’s panting and clenching around him so hard it could probably push him out, and then she pants a little faster and comes, gushing. Before he ever moves inside her.
Jesus. Then again, his knuckles have probably made a new home against her g-spot.
She collapses, sweating but more relaxed around his hand now, and all Sam can think about is how he’d like to go deeper. His fingers are already butting against her cervix, but if he could….
Curling his fingers from their current position into a true fist, inside of a woman’s cunt, is way harder than Sam imagined. He imagines it feels pretty funky from her end, too, because suddenly Mom is thrashing around again, legs trying to close on his arm, body trembling.
“SamSamSam—“ Overwhelmed and a little panicky like she’s not sure if this is good or bad.
He rubs her stomach with his free hand, soothing, restraining. The hood of her clit is stretched from the girth of him…it doesn’t take much at all to drive her back over the edge, sucking and licking til she sobs out his name. She comes like a freight train, violent, and his hand is curled in on itself before she’s any kind of coherent.
Now that he’s made a fist, she swallows him up to the wrist. God, his dick aches. He fucks her experimentally, and the strangled noise she makes is exhausted. From the outside he can feel his knuckles if he presses down at the edge of her pelvic bone. He’s big and hard inside her, and she moans, writhing listlessly.
“Take it,” he breathes. He’s never seen her fucked out quite like this, insensate from what’s being done to her. “Fuck, take it.”
She twitches like a marionette when he fucks her harder, a protesting noise weak in her throat. But she doesn’t argue, can’t even open her eyes. Her lids flutter with the too-much of his hand inside her, the controlled punch of his fist against her guts.
Tired gasps rise up as he presses a fourth orgasm out of her. His fist is soaked when he pulls it out of her cunt and wraps it around his own cock, slick like her and tighter than she could hope to be just now. It only takes three or four tugs before he’s coming all over her stomach.
Not that she’s conscious anymore.
She’s breathing even and deep as he frees her wrists and rubs the circulation back into her hands. She always sleeps heavy after he’s made her hurt, and he’ll have to be extra sweet tomorrow. There’s a softness to her underbelly that she doesn’t often show except for the days after the nights like these. Mom’s always been the tough one, a force all her own, but tomorrow she’ll need looking after.
He cleans them both up gently without waking her, though Caleb surfaces enough to grumble sleepily as Sam moves him to the bed. Sam smiles at the way he gravitates towards Mom immediately, face buried against her breast.
