Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sam Winchester got into some trouble when he was fifteen years old. Not the ‘oh shit, I’m going to jail’kind of trouble but the 'well, fuck, I have a kid on the way' kind. The girl’s name was Ruby and she was older than him, more experienced, which drew Sam in right from the get go. 

They had sex one time and, okay, his parents warned him that it only took one time to get someone pregnant but he didn’t listen. Three months after their night of passion, Ruby shoved a pregnancy test in his face and said, “Congrats, champ. You’re gonna be a teen dad.”

And his parents were… well, they were disappointed to say the least. It wasn’t something they wanted for their child, having a baby of their own so early in life, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Ruby didn’t want an abortion and Sam was glad; he didn’t want her to have one, either.

Six months later, Sam was just starting sophomore year of high school and while most kids his age had to think about papers, finals, and whether or not they were going to prom, he worried about diapers and getting enough sleep.

Matthew Henry Winchester was born into the world on a cold October morning. Sam had been there for the birth and didn’t pass out, which was a feat he proudly shoved in his brother’s face, and all of the fear and trepidation he’d had about being a father bled away.

As soon as they were able, Sam and Ruby got married. It was more or less a “suggestion” of her father’s and he “suggested” it with a shotgun pointed straight at Sam’s crotch. All while he was holding the man’s grandson, isn’t that responsible?

Sam was eighteen, Ruby was twenty, and Matthew had been two years old. Despite having a family, Sam had worked hard in school and managed to get a scholarship to Stanford. Ruby wasn’t thrilled about it, not at first, but she went because she loved Sam.

Or so she thought.

The next four years were tough. Matthew grew and grew; starting school when Sam went into his third year of college. Ruby took classes at the community college during the day and worked at night while Sam took care of their son and it worked. They played like they were in love and got back to Kansas every now and then.

When Sam got into law school, Ruby left him. She took their son away and went back to Kansas to stay with her folks. It was his second year of law school when Sam got the news about Ruby. She had died in a car accident and Matthew, thankfully, hadn’t been with her at the time.

So, Sam spent the next few years taking care of Matthew and working on getting a law degree. It was hard and there were times when he wanted to give up, but they managed.

Now, fifteen years later, he was a big time lawyer in a tiny town. He moved back to Kansas to be closer to his parents after graduating and so Matthew could be close to his family. 

And in all that time, Sam hadn’t been with anyone else. Yeah, there were one night stands and quickies in the law library at school but nothing really stuck; there were no hopeful step-moms or dads for Matthew.

Things didn’t really change after that. Sam hooked up whenever he could, frequenting more and more gay bars than he had before. He had done some bad things when Ruby was alive and they were together; had lied, saying he was going to study when he was really going to a gay club. It was shameful and Sam still feels guilty about it even to this day, but he couldn’t deny what he really was.

And Sam, he knows that sometimes he can be fucked up. He’ll be in his office while Matt is sleeping down the hall, scrolling through endless lists of porn with his cock hard in his jeans. They range from normal, every day kind of things to kinks that he wouldn’t even tell his brother about — and Dean is the kinkiest son of a bitch Sam knows.

Then Matthew starts hanging out with some new kids and brings them around the house. Sam comes home one evening from a long, long day at work to find his son in the living room with a black haired boy that he’d never seen before.

"Matt…" Sam says as he comes around the corner, his briefcase in one hand and his tie in the other. He loosens the knot and smiles when both boys turn around, their eyes on him.

"Oh. Hi, dad." Matt gives his father a sheepish look and Sam rolls his eyes, turning his attention to the kid sitting next to him.

And this kid, god, he’s gorgeous. Sam knows he’s fucked up — there’s a whole folder full of porn on his hard drive to prove it — and that this kid can’t be much older than 15 but he’s attracted to him. The soft mouth, the shaggy hair falling in his eyes, and the grin he gives Sam.

"Who’s this?"

Matt blinks and says, “Dad, this is my friend Michael.”

"Nice to meet you, Michael," Sam says, giving a bright smile. He knows he’s flashing his dimples, which is what he does whenever he flirts with someone, and hopes he’s not laying it on too thick.

"You too, Mr. Winchester."

Sam snorts, waving the hand he’d been undoing his tie with. “Mr. Winchester is my father,” he says and chuckles. “Call me Sam.”

From then, Michael comes over damn near every day. Sam asks if he has a home to go to, merely joking with the kid, and Michael says that he does but he hates it there. He says that his older siblings are assholes and turns a bright, adorable shade of red after realizing what he’d just said and who he said it to.

So, Sam allows Matthew to bring Michael over whenever he wants. He even supervises sleepovers and soon his house is filled with children that his son goes to school with. The parents trust Sam because he’s young and hip; they know he won’t do anything to any of the kids and, really, he won’t.

Just to one kid in particular. 

Michael shows up at 6 PM on a Friday evening. He’s got a bag thrown over his shoulder and a smile on his face while a serious looking man stands behind him. The man, Mr. Novak, tells Sam that he and his wife are going out of town for the weekend and could Michael stay with them until Sunday night? 

"I would let him stay with his older siblings but, well, they don’t exactly get along. Besides, he loves it over here." James Novak is giving a soft smile and a ‘please help us’ look that Sam can’t say no to.

So, in the end, Michael stays over and Matthew is over the moon. The boys are both edging on sixteen but still enjoy their sleepovers, though they’re both too old for them.

Sam oversees video games and movies, makes sure that neither of the boys are watching any porn before leaving them alone for the night. He steals a glance at Michael on his way out of the room and notices that the boy is staring back at him. 

And it’s not the first time any of Matthew’s friends have stared at him. He gets gawked at by all of his son’s friends - the girls, anyway - and it’s not like Sam doesn’t know he’s hot. 

For thirty-one, Sam looks good. He works out as much as he can and eats only the best things for his body, though there are cheat days with his son and on special occasions. He actually takes pride in his looks, always wearing the best suits and clothes he can, making sure his hair is styled and cut perfectly. Though, these days, Sam keeps it long - just an inch below his ear - and it’s tidy enough to be considered “professional” by the partners at his law firm.

Michael ducks his head bashfully when Sam catches him staring and he smiles, telling the boys goodnight before heading upstairs. He palms himself through the thin sweatpants he’s been wearing all night and heads straight for his room.

Tonight, Sam thinks, is a twink kind of night. He’s got videos bookmarked and downloaded onto his laptop; if some of the boys have black hair, fair skin, and green eyes, he hasn’t noticed. 

Without even bothering to lock the door, Sam goes into his room and settles on the mattress, sighing as he grabs his laptop. He had been doing work earlier, before the boys called him downstairs to watch some horror movie with them, and he knows that it can be done later.

Sam clicks through a few files and brings a nice video up. It’s one of his favourites: a boy, who can’t be more than eighteen, getting fucked by a lean man in his thirties. The boy calls the other man “daddy” and Sam is so glad that Matthew stopped calling him that years ago because, if he heard his son say that to him, he’d pop an inappropriate boner.

Once the video is loading, he takes his sweatpants off. Sam’s not wearing underwear underneath and rarely does when it’s just him and the boys at the house. “You can run around in your boxers if you want,” he always says to the boys but when girls are around, everyone is clothed; Sam makes sure of that.

The fabric falls to the floor, barely making any noise, and Sam settles back against the pillows. He’s got a blanket near him, so if he hears someone come up the stairs and toward his room, he can pull it over himself as quickly as possible.

With another click of the track pad, Sam plays the video and keeps the volume low, though the chances of Matt and Michael hearing what’s going on is slim to none. Still, he needs to take precautions and doesn’t want to explain to either of them what’s going on.

Sam strokes his cock idly as he watches the scene. The black haired boy is on his knees, mouth wide open before he takes the head of the older man’s cock between his lips. He can hear a grunt from above, no doubt coming from the man whose cock is currently sliding in and out of the twink’s mouth, and shudders.

He’s not going to last long.

The video is ten minutes long and Sam fast forwards through most of it, getting to the really good parts. He tips his head back, eyes closed and mouth open, his mind wandering as he strokes himself. Instead of thinking about the men on the screen, Sam imagines Michael touching him and Michael gasping his name.

Sam nearly blows his load right then and there and would have, too, had he not heard a noise in the hallway. Hastily he turns the video off and exits out of the player, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He grabs the blanket and tugs it over his lap, groaning at the feel of the rough wool moving against his cock.

"Sam?" A voice calls out from the other side of the door and Sam’s blood starts racing when he realizes that it’s Michael. Of course it’s him; who else could it be? Matthew would call out "dad" and if someone else were in the house… well, Sam would be alarmed.

"Yeah, come in." 

The door squeaks open a few inches and then stops.

"Michael," Sam says, laughing. "Come in, buddy; it’s okay."

A moment later, the door opens just enough for Michael to slide in and he shuts it behind him, hands wrapped around the knob. He looks at the papers, the open laptop, and then to Sam before asking, “Are you busy?”

"No, ‘course not. What’s up?"

"Um.." Michael hesitates, bites down on his lower lip as he shifts his weight from foot to foot — much like a kid who has to use the bathroom.

Sam chuckles and sits up, trying not to groan. “What is it? You can tell me anything,” he says in his soft, reassuring voice.

"We finished the movie and…"

"And?"

Michael huffs out a sigh and says, “Matthew won’t stop talking like the dead girl. He keeps singing 'you're all gonna die' and — can I stay up here with you for a while?”

The way the boy asks is so adorable, Sam can’t say no. Hell, he can’t say no to the kid at all; if Michael were to ask him to do anything, Sam is sure he would say yes. Which was awful, seeing as he was technically old enough to be the kid’s father.

"Sure," he answers and pats the bed beside him. The laptop gets pushed out of the way, the papers gathered and shoved into the briefcase that was laying on the end of the bed.

While Michael walks toward him, Sam makes sure the blanket is covering his body and grabs a pillow to place on his lap. His cock is still hard underneath the covers and he hopes that it goes down soon before the kid realizes what’s going on.

"Thanks." Michael gives a soft smile as he climbs onto the bed, wearing a much-too-big-for-him, threadbare Captain America t-shirt and a pair of Marvel comic strip-y pajama pants. "I won’t stay long, just ‘til I stop being scared," he mumbles and pauses for a moment. "My brothers make fun of me for being scared."

Sam frowns, sympathizing with the kid. “My older brother used to make fun of me for being scared, too,” he says and laughs when Michael glares at him, seemingly disbelieving. “It’s true. I used to be terrified of clowns and Dean would terrorize me.”

"Oh. That sucks."

"Yeah, it does. I’m not afraid of them anymore, so he stopped doing it a long time ago."

Michael nods and lays down, curling up slightly. His hair falls in front of his eyes and Sam lifts a hand, brushes those black locks away from his forehead. It’s a very fatherly thing to do and the boy smiles up at him, green eyes shining.

They stay silent for a moment and Sam thinks about picking his laptop up, of doing some actual work while Michael lays there, but knows that he won’t be able to get anything done. So he shuts the computer and puts it in his briefcase on top of the papers, sighing as he sets it on the floor beside the bed. He’s careful to keep his body on the bed, though, so Michael doesn’t see that he’s naked.

"Why is there a pillow on your lap?" Michael asks in a quiet voice.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Sam is fucked. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? Obviously the truth would scare the kid and any lie he could come up with will just sound like complete bullshit.

"Um… it’s there so I can have a place to put my hands." That seems to sate Michael and he nods again, letting his eyes flutter shut. His lashes are so long and dark, Sam wants to run a fingertip over them but refrains from doing so.

Not even five minutes later, Michael’s out like a light. He’s breathing softly and snoring, curled up into a tiny ball beside Sam. The urge to reach out and touch the smooth, pale skin of Michael’s cheek overwhelms Sam to the point of insanity. 

So very carefully, he puts a hand on the boy’s face. His big palm cups the teenager’s cheek and it feels perfect, like this is what he should have been doing all along. When did Sam have a thing for teenagers under the age of eighteen? He hasn’t; not until Michael came along.

Michael makes a noise in his sleep and Sam freezes. His hand comes up about an inch and he hovers it over that perfect skin, waiting for the boy to wake up and ask what he’s doing. Nothing happens, of course, so Sam lays his hand back down, brushing his thumb along the apple of the teen’s cheek, swallowing hard.

This is wrong and bad and dirty but Sam can’t stop. He’s not doing anything particularly creepy, no, but just touching Michael is enough to make his Creep-O-Meter rise a few notches.

"Sam," Michael says in a breathy whisper and, once again, the older man stills his hand. He’s just waiting for the moment the boy wakes up to find him stroking his cheek like some kind of sick pervert.

When nothing happens again, Sam grows bolder. He slips his hand down the side of Michael’s neck, thumb brushing along his pulse. The swipes cause the boy to move a little, to whimper in his sleep, and Sam waits for him to wake up.

Each time Michael doesn’t wake, Sam slips his hand further. He ghosts his fingers along the boy’s arm, fingertips dancing over smooth, virgin (ha, isn’t that ironic?) skin before drifting down to his hip. Sam knows that he’s toeing the line between Creep and Pervert but he wants to see how far he can go before Michael wakes up.

When his hand moves down to cup Michael’s ass, Sam can’t help himself and he squeezes. Just lightly, barely enough to disturb the boy’s slumber, but then he does it again and this time, it’s harder.

Michael wakes up with a groan, his head swiveling to look up at Sam, sleepy green irises settling on his face as he croaks, “Sam?”

Shit.

"Yeah?" Sam breathes, his hand staying where it is.

"Why - " a loud yawn " - s’your hand on my butt?"

Sam nearly laughs at Michael, a fifteen year old boy, saying the word “butt” but doesn’t. Instead, he turns red and pulls his hand away like it’d been burned, settling it on the bed between them. 

"Uh…" Sam’s at a loss for words and doesn’t think he can bullshit his way out of this one, not now that he’s so far deep in. Ha. He’d love to be deep inside of Michael, stretching him out and making him beg for more and — fuck. Where was he?

"Sam?" Again, Michael’s voice croaks.

With a nod, Sam brings his hand up and scratches the top of his head, pushes his bangs out of his eyes. “I was reaching for the television remote and my hand slipped,” he lies.

"S’right there." Michael points to the nightstand on Sam’s side and the older man glances at it, cursing. 

"So it is." 

Michael sits up, yawning and stretching before making obscene noises that no teenager should be able to make. He drops his hands to his lap, covering the front of his pajama pants, and looks at Sam with his lip caught between his teeth.

"What’s up, Michael?" Sam asks gently, moving a hand to touch the boy’s cheek again, thumb sweeping along his cheekbone.

"Um… nothing. I had a dream and I’m gonna go to Matt’s room now. I’m sorry for bothering you," Michael mumbles and moves to get off the bed, giving Sam a glimpse of what he was trying to cover up.

And damn if the kid isn’t hard in his pajamas.

Sam’s mouth waters and he stops Michael with a gentle hand on his bicep, a bright smile on his face. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, rubbing along the boy’s arm slowly. “I was fifteen once, too, so I know all about those kind of dreams.”

"Oh my god." Michael ducks his head and his hair falls in front of his face as he grips the sheets in his hands.

"Hey," Sam whispers, cupping Michael’s chin before lifting his gaze so they’re looking at each other. "You don’t have to be embarrassed."

Michael doesn’t meet his eyes at first, just stares over his shoulder. “I don’t?”

"No, you don’t. Boners happen to everyone."

"Oh," the boy murmurs, bringing his gaze to Sam’s. He nods and smiles a little, a hand lifting to brush the hair out of his eyes. "Does it happen to you? Those dreams, I mean."

God, Michael is so adorable and innocent it’s almost hot. Sam wants to kiss him, wants to show him exactly what happens when he has those dreams, and wants Michael to know that he’s the star in most of them.

"Yeah," Sam answers, nodding his head slowly. "They still happen to me even sixteen years later."

"What do you dream about?"

Sam chokes on the air and spit in his throat when he hears that. He coughs a little, moving his hand from Michael’s cheek to the back of his own neck, scrubbing it lightly. “I — well, I dream about a lot of different things,” he mutters, shrugging a shoulder.

"Like?" Michael presses, an eyebrow lifted.

"Oh, god, Michael. I don’t think we should be having this talk."

Michael’s face falls and he mumbles, “Oh. Okay, we don’t have to.”

"Hey, no. Look at me." Sam brings his hand back, tips the teen’s head up, and smiles at him. "I just thought maybe you’d wanna have this talk with your own father."

"No, he gets awkward about sex."

"Your mom?"

"Even worse," Michael grumbles.

Damn. What parent doesn’t talk to their kid about sex? Sam had given Matthew the sex talk when he hit puberty and let him know that he could come to him whenever he wanted. Maybe he should give Michael the talk as well — it wouldn’t hurt, right?

Sam sighs and says, “I have dreams about men.”

"You — you’re gay?" Michael asks and Sam nods. "But you had sex with a girl, I mean… you had Matt," he says, clearly confused.

"I didn’t accept or really know what I was back then. Matthew’s mom and I were together before I put things into place."

The confused look on Michael’s face smooths out and he nods. “So it’s okay to have dreams and want to… have sex with a boy?”

"Of course, Michael." Sam moves a hand up, ruffling his hair slightly.

"Good."

Now that’s piqued Sam’s interest. He wants to know what kind of dreams the boy has been having and who he’s been dreaming about. Is it weird if he asks those kinds of questions? He is, after all, like a second father to the kid and just looking out for his well being. 

"Have you had dreams about boys?" Sam asks before he can make up his mind on what circle of Hell he’s going to for lusting after this boy and asking these kinds of questions.

Michael turns pink and nods, just slightly. 

"Who?"

"He’s… older."

Figures; Sam was into older boys, too, when he was younger. Now the tables have turned and it seems that he’s into much younger ones. He smiles, letting Michael know that it’s okay, and asks, “How much older?”

"Um…" Michael looks away and plays with a fold in his pajama pants, shrugging a shoulder. "Like, really old?"

"Fifty? Sixty?"

"Ew, gross, no!"

Sam laughs and leans back, arms crossed over his chest. “Then how old is he? I promise I won’t tell your parents,” he says, lifting a hand up to give the Boy Scout salute.

"Like, thirty?"

Whoa, hold the phone. Is Michael saying what Sam thinks he’s saying?

"Wow, that’s…" Sam starts, but Michael interrupts him.

"Gross? Weird? Fucked up."

Another laugh bubbles up from Sam’s throat before he says, “No, it’s normal for you to have a crush on someone older.”

"Really?" Michael’s face lights up as he looks at Sam, his lip caught between his teeth. He inches closer and Sam has seen this play before, has seen several of his ex boyfriends and ex one night stands give him that look while doing that move.

Holy fucking shit, Michael wants him!

Sam draws in a deep breath and nods slowly. “Sure,” he whispers and before he can say anymore, he’s got a lap full of Michael Novak.

There’s a pillow between them, thankfully, so Michael doesn’t feel how hard Sam is underneath the blanket and he’s only gotten harder. That should be impossible but apparently his body had just a little more blood to pump downstairs and, well, he’s throbbing.

God, Sam’s never wanted someone so much.

"Now," he says, sighing as he wraps his arms around Michael’s waist. They’re loose, casual, and he’ll only tighten then when the boy tells him what he wants to hear. "I’m going to ask you a question and you don’t have to answer, not if you don’t want to, but I’d appreciate if you were honest with me."

Michael’s eyes go wide, comically so, and he nods. “Okay,” he breathes.

"This boy you want… is it me?"

The words hang in the air and Sam lifts an eyebrow expectantly as he moves a hand along the boy’s back slowly, soothingly. He watches colour bleed into Michael’s cheeks, watching him barely nod his head toward his chest, and smiles.

Sam doesn’t know what to do now. He has a dozen different ideas flitting around in his mind but none of them seem… appropriate for the situation. Well, none of them are exactly what Webster had in mind when he defined “appropriate” but Sam figures that bending the kid over and fucking him like there’s no tomorrow is definitely not the right thing to do.

So he settles for an innocent question. “Do you want to kiss me?” Sam whispers.

"Whoa, really?" Michael asks in response and Sam chuckles, nodding his head. The boy is too damn adorable and, really, Sam is going to burn in hell for what he’s doing. But, strangely, he’s okay with it; at least he’ll have a little pleasure beforehand.

Without another word, Sam brings his hand up. It completely covers Michael’s cheek when he touches it and that should not be as arousing at it is. The fact that this boy is a hell of a lot smaller than him shouldn’t turn Sam on as much as it does but oh well. 

Michael’s breath hitches when Sam leans in and he swallows a tiny moan the boy lets out as soon as their lips touch. It shoots straight through him, making him feel like he might just burst out of his skin sometime soon, and he kisses Michael carefully.

After a moment, the boy pulls back, his face flushed.

"Was that your first kiss?" Sam whispers, his thumb brushing along Michael’s cheek, then along his lower lip. He feels hot breath against his skin and swallows, moving his hips slightly so he can grind against something.

The colour on Michael’s cheeks deepens as he mumbles, “No.”

"No?" Michael shakes his head and covers his face. "Shh, sweetheart. There’s no need for you to be embarrassed, okay? Not with me," Sam murmurs, rubbing his hands along the teen’s back, then ghosting them over his ass. "Who have you kissed?"

"There’s, um, this girl in our — in our English class."

"Mmm… Lilith?"

Michael nods and then asks, “How’d you know?”

"Because," Sam laughs, resting his forehead against Michael’s. "She’s apparently the cutest girl in the tenth grade — or that’s what Matthew says, anyway."

"Oh. Well, yeah, she — I — we kissed at the, um, football game one time." Michael looks at Sam with a soft smile, his hands resting on the older man’s broad shoulders.

Sam licks his lips, feeling jealousy flare up when he thinks about not being this boy’s first everything. Then he thinks it’s stupid of him to be jealous about something like that and if he can’t be the boy’s first kiss, he can sure as hell be his first everything else.

"And did you like it? The kiss, I mean."

"Oh, um… not really? I mean, her lips tasted like strawberries and that was nice but it didn’t make me feel anything.”

"You didn’t feel anything?”

Michael shakes his head and bites his lower lip. “No, nothing. I mean, um, everyone says that, like, kissing is supposed to turn you on but it didn’t,” he admits, the colour in his cheeks deepening.

As the boy speaks, Sam brings his hands up and around, slipping them along Michael’s chest. Just when the teenager opens his mouth to say something else, Sam presses both thumbs against his nipples and rubs them as hard as he can.

“Oh!” Michael gasps, his head thrown back and hips moving slightly. He squirms underneath Sam’s hands and it’s a beautiful sight, seeing that small body move against his own. “S - Sam…”

"Yeah, baby?"

Another gasp. “M’not a baby.”

"No," Sam laughs, pressing a kiss to Michael’s throat before moving up and biting the lobe of his ear. "I know you’re not a baby, sweetheart, but I’d still like to call you that. If it’s okay."

"Why?" Michael whispers, his hips grinding against the pillow.

Sam breathes in sharply through his nose and says, “Because I want you to be my baby. Think you could be daddy’s baby, Michael?”

This is Sam’s ultimate fantasy coming to life and he thinks if Michael goes along with it, he may just blow his load without even touching himself. It’d almost be like when he was a teenager again and he laughs at the thought, muffling the sound against the boy’s neck.

"Mmm… okay."

Oh shit, this is happening. ‘Breathe’, Sam thinks, ‘just fucking breathe and don’t react or do anything stupid. He agreed but that doesn’t mean he’s going to go through with it if you act like an asshole.’ 

So Sam breathes; he takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out smoothly, pressing kisses along Michael’s neck. When he’s calm, only then does he speak. “You think you can call me daddy?”

"D - daddy," Michael whimpers and Sam presses his face right there in the crook of the boy’s neck. He nearly sobs in both relief and frustration, his cock harder than it had been in a long, long time.

"Such a good boy," he coos, running his hand along Michael’s stomach before dipping his fingers underneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms. "Who’s daddy’s good boy?"

A noise settles low in Michael’s throat before he answers, “I am?”

This is a thousand times hotter than it had been in the video. Sam thought that it might have been but that had been before, when he had no idea that he’d ever get to play this out. Now that it’s actually happening, he could get off from just hearing Michael call him daddy.

"Let’s get you naked, baby." Sam pulls back and wraps his fingers under the hem of Michael’s shirt, lifting it carefully. He throws it onto the floor as soon as it’s off, his eyes roaming along the perfectly pale, smooth skin on display in front of him.

There are tiny freckles on Michael’s shoulders and no hair on his body save for the small smattering of it along the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Sam can only imagine what the boy would look like when he grows up and wonders why he can’t just wait three more years. 

'Because,' his mind supplies, 'you might now want him then.'

God, Sam is so screwed up. He should just tell Michael to go back downstairs with Matthew and try to forget about the whole thing. But they’re too far into it for either of them to turn back now.

"You’re beautiful," Sam whispers, running his fingers along Michael’s chest, breathing in deeply through his nose. He tweaks one of the boy’s nipples and smiles at the reaction he gets, which causes him to do it again but harder this time.

Michael shudders and grips Sam’s hair hard enough to make him hiss but he allows it. “Sam,” he whines, back arched and chest thrust toward the older man’s hand.

"Okay, okay. No more teasin’ until I’ve got you naked, hmm?"

The boy nods his head and Sam lays him back on the mattress. The blanket falls away from his body and he just shoves it onto the floor, laughing when Michael looks down at him in all his naked glory.

"You — you were naked under there?” Sam nods, hooking his fingers underneath the elastic holding Michael’s pants up. “Why?”

"Because before you came up here, I was… having some alone time."

Michael’s cheeks turn pink and he lifts his hips as Sam pulls the cotton away from them. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

"Oh, baby, no. There’s nothing to be sorry about."

"I in — interrupted."

With a chuckle, Sam leans down and kisses Michael’s stomach as he pushes his pants down, then off. “Yeah but I don’t mind it. I actually wanted you to come up here with me,” he confesses.

"Really?" Michael asks, his voice slightly breathless.

"Of course, darlin’."

A hand moves through Sam’s hair then and he hums, closing his eyes as he rests his chin just above Michael’s crotch. He pulls back a moment later and tugs the boy’s boxers down, inhaling sharply as he looks at Michael’s cock for the first time. It’s an impressive size for fifteen, hard and curved up toward the boy’s belly, and Sam’s mouth waters.

Michael makes a noise, which causes Sam to look up at him with a quirked brow, and he notices the blush. “What’s the matter?”

Nothing.

"Baby, you know you can tell me anything," Sam whispers, working the fabric down Michael’s legs before pulling them off completely. He drops them to the floor, along with the boy’s pajama pants, and then moves up to hover over the teen.

"I’m… small."

Sam laughs and kisses Michael lightly. “Compared to me, yes, but for a boy your age you aren’t,” he assures the teen as he brushes their noses together. “Besides, I like your body and how small you are.”

To prove this, Sam moves a hand down and wraps his fingers around the base of Michael’s cock. He strokes slowly, brushing the pad of his thumb along the head on every upstroke, and drags it along the underside as his hand drops down.

Michael’s hips stutter forward as he tips his head back, moaning loudly.

That’s the exact reaction Sam was hoping for and he pumps his hand up and down quickly, just for a moment. He was fifteen once upon a time, so he knows how quickly orgasms can come, and he doesn’t want to make Michael come too quickly.

No, Sam wants to take his time; wants to savor every goddamned dirty moment.

"Fuck," Michael breathes, blushing even more. "Sorry, I — I didn’t mean to…"

Sam chuckles and presses kisses all along the boy’s face, trailing his mouth down to suck on a spot just above Michael’s pulse. “You can cuss around me, baby,” he whispers, nipping at the boy’s skin.

“Shit.” Whether Michael is cursing just to curse or because he’s feeling good, Sam doesn’t know, but he shivers at the sound of such grown up words coming from that mouth.

For a moment, all Sam does is stroke Michael’s cock and breathe against his skin, lips brushing along his throat. He wants to sink his teeth into that perfect, unblemished skin and wants to mark it, to show everyone that someone was there.

But he can’t. God, Sam can’t mark this perfect boy because he knows that Michael’s parents will see the hickeys and will want to know what’s going on. Which will lead to awkward questions and possible investigations into what’s going on at Sam’s house when the kids are there and… well, he can’t afford for that to happen.

One day, though, he will cover Michael’s neck in hickeys.

"Do you want me to make you feel good, baby?" Sam whispers, his lips pressed against the shell of Michael’s ear, hand stilling on his cock.

Michael nods his head, a squeak escaping. “Yes, daddy,” he breathes, lifting his hips against the older man’s hand. “Please.”

With a chuckle, Sam pulls away and grabs a pillow from the top of the bed. He gives Michael instructions, tells him to lay on his stomach with the pillow underneath his hips, and goes to lock the door. Matthew won’t come in, not unannounced, but Sam can’t even risk it at this point.

Once that’s done, he goes back to the bed and slides onto the mattress behind Michael, immediately spreading his ass. He takes a moment to just look, to admire the boy’s ass and back and shoulders and the mop of black hair. It’s all his — for the moment — and Sam wants to taste every inch of Michael he can get his mouth on.

"Okay, darling, just relax for me. This might feel weird at first but I promise it’s going to be good." Sam pats Michael’s ass and smiles when the boy looks over his shoulder at him, clearly hesitant. "Do you trust me, baby?"

A nod.

"Do you want me to do this?"

Another nod.

"Speak up, sweetheart," Sam whispers, moving a hand between Michael’s cheeks to brush the pad of his thumb along the boy’s hole.

"I want this, daddy," the teen answers, his voice breathless.

Sam nods his head and leans down, pressing the flat of his tongue against Michael’s entrance. The taste that hits his tongue is an earthy one, all teenage boy and Old Spice that’s been lingering on his skin since his shower earlier, and it’s good. 

So he immediately dives in. Fuck being slow and gentle and teasing, he thinks as he runs his tongue along Michael’s rim. He holds him open with both hands, closes his eyes, and makes broad strokes along the boy’s skin. 

The noises he gets in return make Sam’s cock throb harder. He grinds himself against the mattress, no doubt smearing precome against the sheets, and moans against Michael’s skin. With caution, Sam slips the tip of his tongue into the boy and wiggles it, just barely, before pulling it out.

"S - Sam…"

"Mmmh?" Sam replies, opening his eyes to meet Michael’s. 

The boy bites his lips and grinds his cock against the pillow. “I’m gonna come,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of top secret thing, and Sam smiles, nodding.

"Do you want me to keep going or… would you like my mouth somewhere else?"

"Where — " Michael cuts himself off with a quiet gasp of ‘oh’ and nods his head, cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.

Sam pulls away, flipping the boy over onto his back, and reaches over toward the nightstand. “Do you mind if I finger you as well? I’ll only use one, since you’ve probably never done this before,” he explains as he rummages around for the lube before producing a half-empty bottle.

"Mmm, ‘kay, daddy."

God, this kid is going to be the death of him. Next time — and Sam is hoping and praying there’s gonna be one — he wants to get the boy on his cock, wants Michael to bounce on his lap while calling him ‘daddy’ over and over.

The image nearly makes him squirt too much lube onto his fingers but Sam catches himself before doing that, thankfully. He pours a good amount on his middle finger, stroking it in with his other hand before diving down. 

"Spread your legs," he instructs and hums appreciatively when Michael not only spreads them but bends his knees and lifts himself up. This boy is too, too good and Sam thinks feels like it’s Christmas day and he’s just hit the fucking lottery.

With Michael settled, Sam runs his fingertip around the boy’s hole. He pushes it in ever so slowly and takes the teen’s cock into his mouth, sinking down all the way. It’s not hard for Sam to deepthroat, especially not with a cock the size of Michael’s, so he barely bats an eyelash with the tip his the back of his throat.

Above him, Michael is whimpering. His hands find Sam’s hair, fingers tangling in the locks as he bucks his hips forward. He’s eager, that’s for sure, and Sam laughs around him as he pulls off. At the same time, he sinks his finger in all the way and looks up at Michael, winking.

"Dah - daddy," Michael moans, his back arched and head thrown to the side, neck exposed. Sam almost pulls off and slides up to bite it, to suck a pretty little bruise on his skin, but doesn’t.

Instead, he pumps his finger in and out before turning his attention back to Michael’s cock. He wraps his free hand around the base, supporting himself on his elbows, and bobs his head up and down, sucking obscenely.

From the way the boy is moaning and breathing hard, how his hips are twitching forward, Sam can tell he’s not going to last long. Ah, to be young again and be able to come in under five minutes; that’s the life.

Sam pulls off long enough to say, “Come for me baby” before his mouth is right down on Michael’s cock again, sucking like it’s his job. He works the single digit in and out, brushing his thumb along Michael’s perineum and then his balls.

When Michael does come, it’s with a muffled shout. Sam looks up to see that the boy put a pillow over his face and is holding it against where his mouth is. Smart kid, he thinks, and sucks down everything Michael gives him, smoothing a hand over his bucking hips.

After a moment, Sam pulls away. He licks his lips, bites down on the lower one, and grabs the bottle of lube as he slips his finger out of the boy. Michael’s writhing on the bed and Sam can barely hear the noises he’s making, which push him closer to the edge.

"Look at me, baby," he whispers as he pushes Michael’s legs down and straddles his stomach. He spreads his legs, sits up on his knees, and pours a generous amount of lube onto his cock. When Michael pulls the pillow away from his face, his eyes go wide.

"You — are you gonna fuck me, daddy?"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, shit, goddamn. That’s all that goes through Sam’s mind because those six words seem to have caused his brain to short circuit for a moment. He shakes his head, breathing hard as he strokes the lube onto his cock, which is pointed right at Michael’s chest.

"Not tonight," Sam answers, his voice breathless. "Keep talking to me, baby. Tell me what you want daddy to do to you."

And so Michael does. He’s hesitant at first, Sam can tell, but then he starts talking about sucking the older man’s cock. How good it felt to have a finger in his ass and how he wants Sam to fuck him sometime. All the while, he calls Sam “daddy” and the last one pushes him over the edge.

With a ragged groan, Sam comes. His orgasm hits him hard and he shoots all over Michael’s chest, getting some on his chin and shoulders, even a little on the pillow behind his head. As Sam comes, he strokes his cock and moans, whimpering Michael’s name along with a mix of ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ and ‘good boy’. 

Sam falls onto the mattress when he’s spent, blowing out a long breath as he lays his head back. He’s exhausted, sweaty and sticky with come and lube, but happy. So, so fucking happy that this happened.

"You did good, baby." Sam looks over at Michael and kisses his cheek gently before getting up. He wobbles a little on his feet but manages to stay upright as he goes to the en suite bathroom. 

After grabbing a towel and wetting it, Sam returns to the bedroom to find a blissed out Michael sprawled on the middle of the bed. He looks absolutely obscene with come on his skin and some sliding down his chin, which would make Sam hard again if he were fifteen instead of thirty-one.

Michael’s half asleep, so Sam cleans him up carefully. He presses kisses along his skin, murmurs praises against his collarbone, and makes sure that every last drop of come is gone. Once it is, Sam dries the boy off and redresses him in his clothes, tossing the dirty towel toward the hamper.

Then, being as quiet as he can be, Sam gets up and checks to make sure that Matthew is downstairs. He can hear the television playing some kind of horror movie, and hurries back into his bedroom. Michael barely moves when Sam picks him up and groans in his sleep, which makes the older man chuckle.

The walk to Matthew’s bedroom is a short one but Sam makes it without his son coming upstairs to catch him. He flicks the light on with his elbow, hefting Michael’s body in his arms before carrying him over to the bunk beds that he bought for his son a year ago.

"Sam.." Michael sighs once he’s laid down on the bottom bunk, his eyes fluttering open.

"Yeah, baby?"

Michael yawns and snuggles against the pillow. “Goodnight, daddy,” he whispers sleepily, making Sam bite back a groan as he leans in to kiss the boy’s lips lightly.

And then he goes back to his room, stripping the sheets off the bed as soon as the door is shut behind him. Worry starts to rise in him and Sam wonders if Michael will keep his mouth shut. He wonders if the boy will talk in his sleep or if Matthew will smell the come on him.

By the time the bed is changed and Sam’s cleaned up, he’s half panicking and planning an excuse to get himself out of trouble. He decides to wait to see how things are in the morning, to see how Michael and Matthew react to him, and climbs into bed.

In the morning, Sam wakes from a dream that starred, you guessed it, Michael. The boy had been riding his cock like he was born to do it and called him daddy over and over. So, instead of going right downstairs for breakfast, Sam takes a shower. A long and hot one, steam rising around him as he jerks off, groaning Michael’s name loudly.

When he does eventually get downstairs, Michael and Matthew are already sitting at the table, both eating a bowl of cereal. Neither of them look up when Sam enters the room and he thinks that’s a good sign, so he acts as normal as possible.

Matthew says he’s gonna take a shower and leaves the room. The second he’s gone, Michael turns to look at Sam and grins before saying, “I had fun last night, daddy.”

'Oh god,’ Sam thinks, ‘Michael is definitely going to be the death of me.’