Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5261507.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester,
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester, Castiel/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Castiel, Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, Meg_Masters, Gabriel_
      (Supernatural), Chuck_Shurley, Naomi, Ellen_Harvelle, Ruby_
      (Supernatural), Jessica_Moore, Lisa_Braeden, Ben_Braeden, Lilith_
      (Supernatural), Crowley, Bobby_Singer, Other_Character_Tags_to_Be_Added
  Additional Tags:
      Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha_Dean, Alpha_Sam, Implied/
      Referenced_Underage_Sex, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Sibling_Incest, Priest
      Castiel, Mechanic_Dean, Lawyer_Sam, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added,
      Tags_Are_Hard, My_First_Work_in_This_Fandom, Alternate_Universe_-
      Soulmates
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-22 Chapters: 1/? Words: 6856
****** Idem Compar Geminus ******
by Citadel
Summary
     Idem Compar Geminus (ICG Type A or ICG Type O) – a rare mating
     characteristic that occurs in 3% of identical twins or 2 in every
     291,725 persons among fraternal twins or full-blooded siblings, in
     which siblings of the same gender and sexual identifier will have the
     genetic compulsion (also known as the true mate impulse) to bond with
     each other and a single, unrelated person of the opposite identifier.
     Sam and Dean finally got over the personal angst and social stigmas
     when they accepted the bond between them and started living as mated
     ICG alphas. But they’re still waiting to find their omega to complete
     their bond, until one day they catch their omega’s scent just outside
     St Michael’s Cathedral.
     Brother Castiel may not agree with all Catholic doctrine, but he
     loves his religion even if the Vatican has outdated views on omegas.
     Besides, he must pay penance for his sins, until one day he scents
     something he knows will change his life. The only thing worse than
     meeting one’s true mate while under a vow of celibacy is meeting two
     true mates.
     And the Catholic Church doesn’t exactly have a progressive stance on
     ICG matings.
Notes
     This work is unbeta-ed; forgive me.
     I had a Cas/Dean/Sam alpha-omega kink and a plot bunny hopping behind
     it. So I created a universe to fit my kink. Have fun with that.
“ICG?” the stylish beta with the large, wideset eyes seemed just skeptical
enough that Dean realized she genuinely hadn’t heard about them. Nobody gave
her a head’s up that she’d be meeting a statistical anomaly tonight. Most of
Sam’s associates make it a point to mention (warn) new business acquaintances
about Sam and his mate/brother before these ritzy business galas. Best way to
avoid awkwardness.
The strange eyes whipped from Sam to Dean back to Sam again, only to give them
each a thorough head-to-toe scrutiny. Her interest piqued, she spoke into her
champagne fluke, “You don’t look like twins.” Lilith, as Crowley had introduced
her, casted a worldly impression. So it was no surprise to Dean when she
bypassed the judgment or embarrassment of more conservative minds and leapt
straight into flirty curiosity by licking a stray drop of champagne from her
lip.
“That’s a common misnomer actually,” Sam said, all-friendly and openness. He
had plenty of practice explaining the phenomenon to laymen in social situations
and being a natural attorney helped him maneuver around bigots and the uber
religious. He shifted his weight, brushing up against Dean’s side, “It’s true
the condition was first recognized among identical twins, hence the G for
Geminus, but they actually only make up seven out of ten authenticated ICG
cases. The rest are fraternal twins or regular siblings like us.”
He’s good at it or at least that’s the excuse Dean uses if Sam complains that
he always gets stuck as the ICG public service announcement when they meet new
people. ‘I don’t explain it right,’Dean defends, ‘You’re all systematic about
it. You got friggin’ talking points in your head, Sammy, plus flowchart if they
start debating you. You get all super-hot-lawyer-nerd-mode and start siting
references and case studies. I just end up sounding like a damn Jerry Springer
episode.’
“Well, well,” Lilith glanced to Crowley at her side, “when I heard about the
DA’s golden boy Winchester, I pictured some cookie-cutter, dead-eyed
suburbanite. Why don’t I ever hear any of the good gossip?”
“Don’t let them fool you,” if Sam had super-hot-lawyer-nerd-modedown, then
Crowley’s got sleazy-insurance-ambulance-chaserperfected, “They do live in
suburbia.” Everybody gave Crowley the perfunctory chuckle that seemed
prerequisite at these soirees, except for Dean who generally found Crowley’s
dry wit to be funny, so he flat out laughed. He’s out of place at these things
anyway, so why pretend any different?
Crowley’s a consummate corporate lawyer and the Winchesters have known him a
long time. Long enough that Dean knew he was a twisted, corrupt sonnava’ bitch
who literally sold out his mother for a boost up the political ladder. All that
aside, he can be trusted in one single regard; Crowley considers the attorney-
client privilege to be inviolable. Though Sam and Crowley have often come up
head to head in court as prosecutor and defense attorney, Crowley’s never used
any of the dirt he has on Sam from back when Sam wasn’t his competition, but
instead his client. It’s pretty much the only thing he’ll keep his word on or
at least the only thing he’s kept his word on so far. That might be why in
spite of everything, Dean still considered the little snake a friend, or at
least a frenemy.
Sam, on the other hand, despised him. Dean just couldn’t bring himself to. He
remembered Sam in his law school years, shaking from coke withdrawal and
sobbing, because all his life and all his scholarships were about to be swept
away with five felony drug charges. Fuck knows how he did it, but Crowley took
two right out of court, plead two others down to municipal summonses, and Sam
was only found guilty of one misdemeanor for contributing. Even that, Crowley
told them not to worry about; it never showed up on Sam’s criminal history,
which Dean thought probably wasn’t kosher. He can’t be bothered to care as long
as Sam’s record is crystal clear, so nothing hinders his career.
For all Crowley’s suavity, he broke character long enough for Dean to catch a
pointed glare over Lilith’s shoulder when she sauntered into Sam’s personal
space and Sam stiffened up, civil smile vanishing into a colder visage. That
flash of loathing was meant only for Dean, a warning that Crowley hates this
woman and thinks Dean should know it too.
Like Dean needed any hint that this bitch was bad news.
A warning snarl caught in his throat and Dean didn’t even give a damn if he
looked like the blue collar knothead they already thought he was. That woman
was outright scenting his mate! She was on her high-heeled toes just close
enough to not quite touch, and face raised near his collarbone. If her nose was
any closer to his neck it’d be too lewd for a public setting.
Dead stepped between them, all alpha and dominance. Posturing knothead was
something he was good at. What Dean expected was the beta to naturally relent a
step back from a territorial alpha, but she only moved to scent him instead and
then it was Sam that growled softly behind him, snatching Dean’s hand and
backing him away from the beta that was taking liberties with himself and his
mate.
Lilith took one more gentle sniff and drained her champagne away in two lusty
gulps. “Well you get jealous like legit mates,” she seemed pleased that Dean
bristled to that, “and you don’t smell sick.” The reference she was making was
to incestuous relationships outside an ICG mating- remote hillbillies or the
type of thing that happened in V C Andrews books. Family members in ruts and
heats smell repulsive to other relatives, nature’s defense against the genetic
complications of inbreeding. But just like some weirdos got off on scat play,
so did some sickos get off on that repulsion. The resulting mated odor reeks
sour or rotten.
That’s not what happened to Sam and Dean at all.
Sam’s rut has always smelled fantastic to Dean, just as enticing as any omega’s
heat, except ten times more so. Sure it wasn’t the sweet scent of an omega; it
was all alpha musk and to Dean it was 100% attractive. It inspired nothing, but
pure want from him since day one. It also smelled so right, something he
resisted for years.
And their semi-mated odor was just as pleasing. People were often confused by
it. Sam and Dean’s separate scents were obviously that of brothers, still there
was the distinct entwinement of two balanced aromas exactly like a mating, if
not a tad muted. It confused people, yet was one of the primary reasons they
didn’t get more shit when they introduced themselves as mates. Open minded
persons can easily smell the truth to it.
Neither Sam nor Dean bother responding to Lilith’s comment, letting the mating
bond speak for itself.
Maybe a tad disappointed not to get a reaction, Lilith winked at Sam, “Where’s
the lucky omega then?”
“We haven’t met our omega yet,” Sam jumped back into open lawyer mode, “Sorry,
thought that was obvious.” He motioned to the space where Lilith had been
scenting them. There wasn’t a smidgeon of omega’s odor between them.
“Pity,” some more suits were coming up to their circle with Zachariah in the
lead and Lilith flipped her hair over her shoulder when she turned to walk
away, “let me know if you’d like a substitute until you find that third wheel
of yours.”
“What a piece of work,” snorted Dean and having never liked Zachariah either
–not since the Christmas party where the drunk douchebag had cornered Dean and
pointed out that without an omega Dean looked like a brother-molesting pervert
to him, he snatched Sam’s empty glass from his hand and excused himself, before
the prick could introduce his buddies, “I’m gonna go get us another, sweetie.”
Term of endearments weren’t really their thing outside the bedroom, still Dean
wanted Zachariah to hear him say it.
“I need a refresher myself,” following in step, Crowley excused himself. Sam
would’ve sighed, but Zachariah had already approached him, hand outstretched.
Dean counted himself lucky that as a lawyer’s mate, he didn’t need to make the
rounds with Sam and could scamper off when talk of business and politics
started.
“Why’d you bring that chick over?” Dean asked, when they were far enough away,
“Bitch needs to back off.”
“She asked to meet you two.”
“Why?”
“Probably getting a feel for Sam’s weaknesses,” Crowley and Dean approached the
bar and Crowley motioned to the bartender with his empty glass, ice clacking
inside, “Or she really does have a plaid kink. Either way, she’s on city hall’s
payroll and it’s safe to say that the FBI’s audit is making them nervous if
they’re already trying to weasel into the DA’s office.”
Dean bristled at that, not only because anyone trying to undermine Sam riled up
his alpha, but also because he cleaned up nice tonight thankyouverymuch and was
even looking sort of dapper in his designer suit and tie. Plaid kink, indeed.
“You…got a plaid kink,” he muttered, lamely.
Crowley’s comeback was scathing and pitying at the same time, “Poor, dumb
Dean.”
The bartender, who was really astute remembering a scotch for Crowley and a
bourbon for Dean, slid their drinks in front of them. “Can I get another
bourbon?” he waggled Sam’s glass and started to dig some cash out of his wallet
for gratuity. Good memories in bartenders should be tipped.
“Yes, sir,” there was an extra flourish to her pouring and how could Dean miss
the subtle way she pushed up her cleavage when she dropped off the drink in
front of him, taking the cash from his hand. She was 10 years younger than him,
blonde and bubbly. Would’ve been just his type not too long ago… still was a
bit his type, truth be told.
“Do you miss it?” Crowley asked when the bartender hustled off to serve a woman
in a power suit. So entranced with the exaggerated swing in her hips, Dean
almost missed the question, then awkwardly pretended not to understand
Crowley’s arched eyebrow when he was caught leering. “Don’t be coy,” sometimes
Dean thought that Crowley talked like other people painted with oils, layers
and layers of inflictions instead of pigments, “Once upon a time, a sexy
little, beta like that would’ve been in the back of your four-wheeled fetish
mobile, naked with legs spread, after just one of your patented blue steel
smolders or green-eyed winks.”
“Must’ve lost the taste for it,” Dean pushed off the bar, “or I’m losing my
touch.” His eyes seemed to automatically search out for Sam’s. Still stuck in
the middle of one of Zachariah’s god-awful golfing anecdotes, Sam was laughing
as required, but his hazel stare was locked onto Dean and there was a
possessive flash that let Dean know he’d been busted for ogling. If he played
his cards right tonight, that jealous glare could also mean some sexy, alpha
dominant times too.
Between Lilith’s sniffing and Dean’s wandering eyes, a territorial Sammy was a
hot Sammy.
“Oh please, any more eye fucking and I’ll call the cops for public indecency,”
Crowley groaned, wandering over to the large window that provided a
breathtaking view of the city skyline. Dean stepped next to him, also
hypnotized by the sparkling lights. “Heard about that tweet from Reggie
Jackson,” Crowley’s face brightened up as if he only just remembered to mention
it, “Congrats. Nice plug for the shop. Business must be booming after that
one.”
“Thanks,” grinned Dean, “Our phones haven’t stopped ringing for a week. Nice
guy. I’m working on this hot, little 1971 Plymouth Cuda Hardtop for him. This
sweetheart’s got a kick to her, that’s just … wow. It’ll be a sad day when I
have to hand that little girl back to her daddy.”
“But a good day for your wallet, I imagine.”
“It’s a living,” he shrugged, happy to be talking about something he loved. In
the past three years, Dean’s shop had become a hotspot for classic American car
restoration and he had two people to thank for it: Bobby Singer’s salvage yard,
which was now getting a reputation for highly specialized salvage parts, and
Sam’s high, steady income that got them the bank loan they needed to revamp the
shop into a lean mean mechanic’s wet dream.
His life had never been this awesome and put together as it had been in the
past few years. Sammy and he had finally left their demons in the past and
committed to each other. They mutually bore the scars of each other’s mating
bites on the right side of their necks, where neck meets shoulder. Dean was
free to reach out and touch his baby brother, kiss him right at the edge of his
jawline just like he fantasized when he was twenty and gangly, little Sammy was
filling out into the man he’d become. There were no more girlfriends to
secretly hate, no more Ruby and cocaine or Lisa and Ben. Just the brothers,
mated and happy.
Maybe not totally content, there was still an omega out there somewhere.
“… I heard without an omega, it’s not authentic,” Dean heard a sultry voice
raised around the corner. A moment later a small group of women entered and
giggled as they gossiped. Leading the way to the ladies’ restroom was Lilith in
her white skirted, business suit. She was speaking conspiratorially, but loudly
nonetheless, “Just because you’re banging your brother doesn’t make it ICG.”
They didn’t see Dean and Crowley still with their backs towards the room,
staring out into the night, “Makes you wonder how young they were when it
started. Can’t help thinking maybe big brother couldn’t keep his hands to
himself. Poor Winchester, that’s gotta fuck a guy up, you know?”
Dean felt the blood run to his face. Humiliation wasn’t something he was
accustomed to; it was shame that settled over him, thick and black like an old,
familiar trauma. ‘Let it go, don’t confront them,’ he replayed over and over in
his head. The hands still holding his and Sam’s bourbon were shaking with rage
and he hated himself for it as he watched their reflections pass by. A dark
whisper echoed unbidden in the back of his mind…
Sammy was only sixteen when you first got your hands on his cock. Can a
sixteen-year-old boy really consent to his twenty-year-old brother? Sick…
Crowley made an interested, ‘hmmm,’ sound into his scotch.
Just before the women disappeared behind the restroom door, Lilith’s eyes shot
straight up and met Dean’s full on in the window’s reflection. She smirked at
him, winking.
“My, my, my,” Crowley tsked, “If she works for who I think she works for, tell
Samsquatch to watch his ass. Good news, he’s on the right track. Bad news, they
seem to be targeting you to get to him, so watch your ass too.”
***
Sam rolled over in his sleep and instinctively attempted to wrap his arm around
Dean’s waist, but the bed was empty. The cold spot woke Sam up completely and
he blinked in their dark bedroom, no Dean in sight. Had he slept through one of
Dean’s nightmares? Not likely. He was hoping with how fucking tasty Dean looked
in that Dolce & Gabbana suit that he’d gotten him last Christmas (okay, so more
like he bought Dean a new suit as a Christmas present for himself) that Dean
and him would’ve fooled around before bed, but on the drive home Dean had
relayed what Lilith did and well, Dean really wasn’t in the mood after that.
Pulling on some sweatpants that had missed the hamper, Sam tiptoed quietly down
the hall and stairs. It was chilly in the house and the alpha in him fretted
that his mate might be cold. The softest muttering of a TV program was
flickering light and shadows from the living room.
Dean was sitting on the couch, nursing a beer and watching Dr. Sexy. As Sam
drew closer, Dean scented the air and said, “Sorry, did I wake you up?”
“Don’t worry about it,” flopping heavily onto the couch, Sam used the armrest
as a headrest and bent his gangly legs to thrust his feet into Dean’s lap. Dean
might’ve shot him a dirty look, yet his alpha wordlessly tucked the bare and
chilled feet under his t-shirt and cradled them against his stomach. “Hey, hand
me my laptop,” he pointed to the coffee table. Another look to let Sam know he
was pushing it, before Dean awkwardly lunged for Sam’s computer and gave it to
him.
“You’re welcome,” Dean made a point to say, when Sam didn’t say anything at
all, just flipped on his computer.
On the TV, Dr. Sexy pushed up behind Dr. That-actress-that’s-too-hard-to-work-
with-so-they-gave-her-the-boot-after-two-seasonsin order to demonstrate how to
operate on some lady’s spinal cord, which Sam thought looked like a hell of a
HR complaint, but the seduction immediately drew Dean’s attention back to the
screen. Once, Sam thought the show was an insipid, pointless melodrama (it kind
of still was), until Dean coyly mentioned Sam’s and Dr. Sexy’s tall, long-
haired resemblance. Well, he could certainly work with that. If Sam ever wore a
pair of cowboy boots, Dean was putty in his hands. The show had some merit,
after all.
“Nightmare?”
“No,” said Dean rather quickly, still facing the screen, “Woke up just before
it started…we were just about to enter the cave, that’s all. Just didn’t feel
like risking finishing it by going back to bed.”
What Sam wanted more than anything was to reassure Dean that when they found
their omega the PTSD would get so much easier. It was a proven fact that alphas
mated to omegas only suffered mild symptoms. Not that Dean and Sam’s own bond
hadn’t helped. Dean was in bad shape when they’d finally agreed to live as
mates. Dr. Pamela was optimistic that the presence of an alpha mate would help
Dean feel fortified and protected. On the upside, the nightmares were far less
severe and less consistent; on the downside, Dean’s insomnia wasn’t going away.
Alphas mated to omegas never had insomnia. Sam and Dean’s omega would fix
everything with their loving and gentle scent of home, Sam just knew it. Sam
also knew it wasn’t fair to place so much hope and pressure on someone they
hadn’t even met yet. He just couldn’t help himself. An omega would stop the
whispers behind their back, make their mating legitimate to the world. Not that
he needed approval to love Dean, but it would make life simpler. Especially, if
Crowley was right and there was attempt to undermine him politically by
portraying him as some sort of incestuous degenerate.
Lately though … Dean had been mentioning their unknown omega less and less.
There was a hopeless shadow that was falling over his face and Sam felt
powerless to motivate him anymore. He could tell it was starting to irritate
Dean when he brought up their omega. They used to stay up late at night,
imagining what they would be like. Male or female? Sam thought they were
probably female, given Dean and Sam’s individual history with beta females.
Dean would shrug it off, ‘Aren’t ICG people bisexual? Besides,’ here he’d paw
at Sam’s cock, ‘I think I’m getting a taste for it. Wouldn’t mind getting my
mouth on another.’ What kind of career did they have? Or would they be happier
as a homemaker? Older or younger or did they fall between Dean and Sam’s age?
What if their omega was just passing through and didn’t live here? Maybe they
weren’t a US citizen and they’d have to figure out green cards and
naturalization and stuff like that.
However, Dean wouldn’t play that game anymore. If Sam tried, he’d answer in
sarcasm, “Guess we’ll find out if we ever find them, huh Sammy?”
It was important to Sam to be okay with their mating how it was now; after all,
they might never find their omega and to be discontent with their lives and
bond would cheapen their love and all the progress they had made together.
Besides, it wasn’t like Sam wasn’t without his resources when it came to
treating insomnia.
Sam opened Search the Web under Edge and got to work. It wasn’t that Sam didn’t
think the old clip would still be online; it was more that when one was looking
for a specific porno on the internet, it was like looking for a needle in a
stack of needles. Luckily, he remembered the actor’s name had been Lance -or
Steele Phoenix… or something close to it. After some random clicking, he found
a wiki gay porn site and when his searches brought up some alternatives, he saw
the name and remembered it. Ian Phoenix,now a bit of a bear alpha that
specialized in army and prison fetishes, in 1998 he was a well-muscled, pretty
boy alpha that magically turned ‘straight’ alphas gay with the power of his
knot. He had green eyes and naturally blonde hair that looked brown when wet
and dark gold in the sun.
Under his heel, Sam felt a twitch in Dean’s groin and he raised his eyes to see
Dr. Sexy inexplicably in a steamy shower, showing all the glistening skin that
network television would allow. He smirked and went back to his laptop. To
tease a little, Sam flexed his toes to stroke the stomach under Dean’s boxer
shorts. Dean unconsciously licked his lips and took another drink from the beer
bottle, gaze glued to the screen.
With adult eyes and the hands-on experience he now had with Dean’s body, Sam
can concede that Ian Phoenix wasn’t the perfect copy of Dean that his hormonal
fifteen-year-old-self believed he was. The proportions of the body weren’t
quite right, though the shoulders were broad enough. It was the face that held
a remarkable resemblance to Dean or to nineteen-year-old Dean at least,
especially the eyes, nose, and cheeks. The jaw and chin were too pointed, but
young Sam discovered that any ¾ profile shots cut Ian Phoenix’s jaw flatter and
the cheekbones higher and BAM… there was Dean Winchester’s porn doppelganger.
Scrolling through Phoenix’s filmography, Sam focused around ‘96 and ‘97. It
hadn’t seemed that old when Sam watched it for the first time and in his
memory, it had the ‘start of internet porn’ feeling. This took a bit more time
than Sam expected. Phoenix had done a lot of movies and they all sounded the
same. Alpha Hunks on Alpha Twinks and Alpha Knot Slut and the like. He browsed
through a few, looking for the familiar bedroom setting or that other skinny
actor. Sam saw the title, Rut Desperate: Barely 18 and Horny,and realized how
familiar it sounded. Sure enough, the cover of the movie that popped up had Ian
Phoenix and that skinny, shaggy-haired twink from his teenage memory on it. Ian
was embracing the lanky alpha and Sam only just realized that the tantalizing
star of the porno was supposed to be that eighteen-year-old, baby-faced alpha,
not gorgeous Ian Phoenix.
His teenage-self had only focused on the actor that looked so much like his big
brother.
Ensuring that the sound was muted, Sam scanned through the scenes on the play-
bar and found the exact 30 seconds of porn that had dominated his post-
pubescent life for years. Downloading in seconds, Sam played the clip in a
basic media player and hit repeat. He sat watching it for a few moments,
remembering how these 30 seconds of sex had driven him nuts with lust. This was
the source of countless masturbatory sessions. Sam wasn’t that surprised to
find the video still did it for him, tingling down his spine and pulling at his
groin like a high school kid copping a feel of a boob for the first time.
“Whoa, what are you getting up to?” Sam raised his face to find Dean focused on
him, not so subtly scenting Sam’s pheromones on the air. Dr. Sexy was paused
and Dean smiled down at Sam’s burgeoning erection like the cat that got the
cream, “Care to share with the rest of the class?”
Sitting up, Sam maneuvered himself over to Dean’s side, “I want to show you
something.” Sam grabbed the remote and flipped the flat screen’s input to his
laptop wireless plugin. He put the laptop on the empty cushion next to him and
Dean’s hand was already stroking his thigh. “Do you remember when we first got
internet service?” Sam’s fingers ran over Dean’s t-shirt and chest, ghosting
over his nipples and passing down to his stomach, only to dart upward again
when Dean shivered in pleasure.
He quirked his head at Sam, but his smile was interested and willing to play
whatever game Sam wanted to, “Yeah it was dial-up. One of those AOL disks they
sent in junk mail.”
“Hmm-mmm,” Sam murmured against Deans throat. His lips traced up to Dean’s ear,
breathing into it raggedly and Dean gave a sharp intake of breath and held it,
“Remember that old sound of signing on? All that dial tone and whirring. Two
out of three times you’d get that damned busy signal.”
Dean chuckled and dove down to Sam’s lips. God, Dean’s kisses. They were always
so open and fervent. The kiss he was currently giving Sam was wet and somehow
lusty in its laconic nature, methodical in its technique to work Sam up.
“Nostalgic, right?” said Sam, when his mouth was free. Dean attempted to work
his hand into Sam’s sweats, but Sam forced his shoulders back down against the
back of the couch. “That sound still kind of reminds me of sex. Do you know
why?”
“Yeah,” Dean’s giggle turned into a moan when Sam licked down his throat and
bit down on their mating bite, hard, “Ugh –fuck, mmm. Cause you were doing what
every hot-blooded American male did the second they got on the internet.
Looking for porn.” This time when he reached for Sam’s cock, there was no
resistance.
“Every time I hear an old dialup I think of Dad’s old office with the lights
off. I swear I can feel that old wood rolling chair under my bare ass with my
pants around my ankles. Even the smell of that perfume-free hand lotion.
Remember how slow it was- ah! Mmm…” the flat of Dean’s hand working up and down
Sam’s shaft through his sweatpants was doing funny things to Sam’s breathing,
“It took minutes just to get pics to load. I had a world full of pornography to
discover, but I knew the first thing I wanted to see were alphas going at it.”
Dean pressed himself firm against Sam’s hip, thrusting slowly. Sam grasped
Dean’s shirt and pulled up until Dean relented a bit of space to hoist it off.
Their lips found each other again and the kisses were becoming loud and sloppy
and desperate. Thrusting a thigh between Deans’ legs, Sam started grinding and
creating delicious friction for them both. “I saw this still frame from this
porno and I just clicked it randomly. Didn’t know it was a video. If I’d known
how long loading was going to take, I probably wouldn’t have tried it.”
He bent over to suck at Dean’s nipples, biting and eager. “Oh Christ, baby boy-
uh, ah!” Dean’s pelvic thrust almost unseated Sam, yet he hung on and jumped to
the other nipple, leaving the other one bright-red and slick with cooling
saliva.
“It took forever. I had jumped the cursor to somewhere in the middle to skip
the lame porn-plot and get to the nit and gritty,” Sam paused to lave his
tongue down Dean’s stomach and slipped down to his knees between Dean’s legs.
His tongue teased just under the elastic of Dean’s boxers, latching his lips on
the skin there to leave a hard-sucked hickey with a rough scrape of teeth. Dean
arched into Sam’s mouth and Sam saw the head of Dean’s cock poking out from the
top of his shorts. “While I was waiting, I couldn’t help thinking about you.
Course, that was most likely because I snagged one of your dirty old rock
shirts to smell while I got off,” at Sam’s urging and imp smile, Dean lifted
his hips to let Sam slip his boxers off. Sam took a moment to toss his
sweatpants off too.
Settling back on his knees, Sam gazed at Dean, naked with splayed legs and
beautiful erection displayed. Sam was pulled forward by that invisible force
that bonded the two brother’s every thought and emotion, like a hook in their
hearts that could tear their insides out if they ever drew apart. He fell onto
Dean with the same sort of reflex and urgency that keeps the skin away from
fire. His chest pressed firm against Dean’s torso; his hands and arms were all
over the rest of Dean, mindlessly stroking every part, from his forearms
sliding against Dean’s own corded arms to his fingers wrapping gently around
Dean’s neck to feel the wild race of his pulse. Sam nuzzled his face against
Dean’s chest and caressed his palm over Deans’ face, groaning as Deans lapped
and kissed wildly trying to suck Sam’s fingers into his mouth.
“I-,” Sam was trying to gather his thoughts enough to continue, distracted by
the circular motions of Dean’s hips against his stomach. His own cock pulsed,
ignored against the couch cushion, “I wanted you to find me like that so
fucking bad, Dean. Find me and make me come.” He made to move back, but Dean,
being pulled by the same force that Sam felt, sat forward as if yanked by a
chain held by Sam and crashed their lips together. His fingers sank into Sam’s
hair and grabbed rough fistfuls. There was love in the plunge of Dean’s tongue,
lust in the grasp of his hands, and possession in the firm press of his thighs
against Sam’s ribcage.
“I don’t know how long –uh-ah!” gasping, Sam relented to the forceful tug in
his hair and presented his neck to his alpha. Dean’s nips and sucks got more
ferocious the further down Sam’s throat they worked, mindful enough to keep any
marks below the collar of Sam’s suits. “I don’t know how long I sat there
smelling your shirt and touching myself, but when I opened my eyes about half a
minute of video was loaded.” Sam reached blindly for his laptop and pressed
play.
Up on the flat screen, the scene of a well-lit bedroom brightened up their own
dark living room. There was Dean’s double standing in a ¾ profile shot behind a
lanky, young alpha, plowing his big cock into his ass. The twink’s shaggy brown
hair had fallen over his face as he bent over the bed, so even though the
eighteen-year-old didn’t look like Sam at all, it was easy to pretend it was
young Sammy from this angle.
At this point in the video, the fucking was violent, fast, and deep; it was the
kind of thrusting that hit the prostate spot-on and showed no mercy to the
bottom. The boy was writhing his body in obvious ecstasy, shoving back greedy
for every inch of that glorious alpha’s cock.
As for Dean’s lookalike, though there wasn’t any sound on, his mouth was open
and obviously growling and grunting. His abs worked his hips like a piston into
that desperate, little alpha. The twitching and flush of his face were
indicating that his orgasm was very close and just as his motions started to
stutter, he brutally grabbed the back of the alpha twink’s neck and a fistful
of hair (much like Dean’s hands were on Sam) wrenching him back onto his
plunging cock.
The video looped back to the beginning of the clip.
“Do you see?” Sam turned his head to watch the clip over his shoulder. Dean
gazed transfixed at the TV. “Do see you it, Dean?” whispering ragged and
breathless, Sam spoke into his ear and eased him to sit back on the couch,
“It’s us.” Sam’s hand clasped Dean’s erection and began stroking urgently, “I
opened my eyes and I was so surprised to see you fucking me on the computer
that I stopped jacking off. I just watched for about five seconds, totally in
awe, and then I just came all over myself. Out of nowhere, I swear to God, I
wasn’t even touching my junk. I came so hard just by watching this. I couldn’t
breathe, there were spots in my vision, and my ears were ringing. My whole body
was shaking and I finally realized I was screaming and then I started moving my
hand again and I kept coming and coming. I was screaming your name!”
The precome was leaking down Dean’s shaft, making a decadent fapping sound as
Sam expertly jerked him and with one more glance up at Dean’s face to see his
back was arched and face was drawn in longing, yet his eyes remained staring,
unblinking at the porn-version of teenage Dean screwing his baby brother, Sam
swallowed Dean’s cock down. “Sammy!” Dean cried out, voice loud and deep and
strained.
Sam sucked hard, cheeks hallowing out and slurping with wild abandon. His lips
stretched taught as he worked as much as he could into his throat. His tongue
caressed all the bumps and veins he knew like the back of his own hand. Alphas
were already large and Dean was above average, even if he wasn’t quite the
gigantic size that Sam’s own cock was. Sam considered giving head an art form
and found performing it was just as gratifying as receiving it. Feeling the
brutal thrusts as Dean started losing control, using Sam’s mouth for his own
pleasure, and smelling and tasting Dean’s sex at its source always drove Sam to
complete, mindless distraction.
Dean was now writhing against Sam’s gulping mouth. One hand was still yanking
on Sam’s head as he face-fucked his beautiful brother, the other hand was
white-knuckled on the headrest of the couch. Dirty words ground out of his
clenched teeth between almost painful, panting breathes, “Fuck yeah, my baby
boy. My sweet, little baby boy going down on my cock. You like it Sammy,
dontcha? Yeah, you fuckin’ love it! Take it- uh-ah! Take it!”
As Dean’s body thrashed under Sam’s wet mouth and stroking hands, his foot
slipped between Sam’s thigh and pressed firmly against Sam’s own erection.
Pleasure shot up from Sam’s groin to his spine and his body gave an involuntary
shudder. Sam groaned around Dean’s shaft and shivered. He was so frantic for
his own release, Sam grabbed blindly at Dean’s leg and held it tight against
his body, grinding his cock against Dean. The passion was pooling in his gut
and his hips sought out the pleasure where he had been neglecting it most. The
moans from his throat were rhythmic now around Dean’s cock, timed with his
desperate thrusts against Dean’s shin.
“Look at you,” Dean voice was all gravel and growling, “like a horny puppy
humping my leg.” The pace of Dean’s hips was starting to stutter and his face
was red. He was on the precipice, holding out against the swell of electric
delight thrumming from his knot to every nerve in his body, “You gonna come
like that, Sammy? Like you did when you were a kid watching porn?” Here Sam
gave a sharp cry he barely recognized as his own voice and his hips started a
sharp, short, and fast grinding against Dean’s shin. Nothing else mattered in
the world, but the sensations that was driving him mad, the points of which
were the plunging cock in his mouth with the knot swelling outside his
stretched lips and his own bulging knot pulsing against his brother’s leg.
“What if I had come in and saw you jacking off to some guy that looked like me,
crying my name?” Dean’s other hand grabbed his own knot and started working it.
Sam did the same.
So close.
“So hot and slutty,” Dean groaned, “Would you’ve humped my leg then, baby boy?
Fuck-mmm, got on your knees and rubbed your cock all over your big brother,
huh? I would’ve whipped my dick out and shoved it down your throat. Would’ve
choked you with it! Little Sammy, fuckin’ teasin’- a-ah!” Sam’s eyes watered as
Dean held his head down and throbbed as his cock released down his throat,
shouting hoarsely. The taste of Dean’s come and the filthy words making him
feel like some tool for Dean’s ecstasy, crashed hot, flaming pleasure up from
Sam’s knot and shook his body to its core. Waves of bliss rolled over him and
crashed at his toes and fingertips only to flood back and forth like a tide in
his blood.
In the receding haze, he was aware of still sucking off Dean’s slackening
erection and his taught muscles began to sag against Dean’s legs and the couch,
little spasms of pleasure still shivering throughout his body.
Deans fingers were soothing over his soar scalp and their ragged breathing
seemed too loud for their quiet living room. The porn clip was still flashing
on screen and Dean laughed to himself as he closed media player on the laptop.
“That’s gonna work me up again,” he chuckled, turning off Sam’s computer, “and
we got work tomorrow.”
“Bed?” Sam kissed his thigh.
“Bed,” and Sam could tell that Dean meant to get some sleep this time around,
his eyes already droopy.
They left their clothes where they lay and grasped each other’s hand as they
made their way back to their bedroom. “You know,” walking slightly behind Dean
as they climbed the stairs, Sam enjoyed the view of Dean’s flexing ass, “It
took me a few seconds to download half a minute of that video. Back on Dad’s
old computer, that flippin’ dial up took me 3 hours and 47 minutes for just
that 28 seconds of sex. Lucky you guys were out fishing that day.”
“You downloaded it to Dad’s computer? You’re even luckier he never found it.”
“Please,” Sam and Dean entered their room, releasing the others hand to settle
on their respective sides of the bed, “Do you know how many times I had to show
that man how to use email? Where I hid that clip, there was no way he’d ever
find it.” They scooted back together in the middle of the mattress, Sam laying
on his stomach and draping his arm around Dean’s waist. Dean’s arm tucked under
Sam’s neck and pillow to wrap around his shoulders. They shared one more slow,
sweet kiss.
“Thanks Sammy,” Dean said in a hushed voice, “I needed that.”
“So did I,” Sam whispered back, “You know I was only 15 when I found that clip.
Year and a half- maybe closer to two, before you even tried to kiss me.” His
hand rubbed Dean’s side, “And sure I explored other types of pornography, betas
and omegas and every pairing you can think of, I still came back to that one
constantly. I’ve always loved you, Dean, and from my first rut, I’ve wanted
you. Don’t you dare think for a second that anything we did when we were young
wasn’t something I’d already wanted, heart, mind, and soul.”
Dean smiled down at Sam, adoring him with those green eyes. “Chick-flick, dude,
total chick-flick,” but there was no real bite to the words. They stared
comfortably for a little while, until Dean’s lids started to droop and his
breathing slowed into sleep.
Sam took longer to drift off. He gazed at their roomy California king-sized
bed, with bedposts and curtains that remained drawn back, waiting for some
omega to finally make use of them while nesting. He was aware of the over-large
dresser against the wall, a third of its drawers purposely left empty. In front
of him was their walk-in closet. Exactly one third of the space inside was also
empty, except for the spare hangers. Sam remembered the conversation they had
when they moved in, speculating that if their omega was female they might have
to split the closet in half and Sam and Dean could share their half and she
would have plenty of room for her clothes and stuff. Until then, they’d keep it
fair with thirds.
Faith sparked stubbornly inside Sam. Dean might not talk about their omega
anymore, but the proof that he was still hoping to find them was inside those
bare drawers and hanging on those empty hangers. Even as the room got tight and
things got cluttered, Dean and Sam never encroached on their unknown omega’s
space.
“We’re waiting,” suddenly sad that their omega was somewhere out there all
alone, while Sam and Dean had each other to love, he muttered in the fuzz
between wakefulness and slumber, “We’ll find you.”
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