Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12303036.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Other
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Sam_Winchester/monster, Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Bestiality, Oviposition, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Mating_Cycles/In
      Heat, Body_Horror, Near_Death_Experiences, Rape_Aftermath, Vomiting,
      Extremely_Underage
  Collections:
      SPN_ABO_Bingo
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-08 Words: 3710
****** Rose, Gardenia, Amber ******
by IndridGrey
Summary
     It's a beautiful day and Sam takes a dip in the lake to ease his
     heat. Something in the lake takes advantage.
Notes
     Sam is 12/13 in the first part
     I'm so sorry. Fill for the rose/gardenia/amber square of my spn abo
     bingo card
See the end of the work for more notes
“Jerk.  Asshole.  F—” Sam glanced around to double-check that no one was
around.  “Fuck him.”  Another glance around.  All clear.  He turned towards the
cabin that his brother had basically just kicked him out of.  “Fuck you, Dean!”
Wow.  No wonder that mother— coc— sonuvabitch liked to swear so much.  Sam
would get there someday—ha!  Imagine the look on his face.
Sam turned back and picked up kicking the rock he had found as he walked down
the path.  Another wave washed through him, making him gasp and almost trip. 
He gritted his teeth and wringed his towel at the ache making itself at home
between his hips.  Dean was an alpha, he just didn’t get it.
“‘Go cool down in the lake’,” Sam quoted bitterly through clenched teeth. 
“‘Like a cold shower, only you won’t stink the bathroom up with all those
pheros’.”
Sam didn’t need a cold shower, he needed—  The sensation faded back into
general discomfort and he continued walking.  Only two more years.  Two more
years and he’d be old enough to be prescribed suppressants.  Or at least buy an
aid.
Yeah, right, then Dean would just kick him out with a dildo.
Sam’s face was hot when he finally reached the pier.  He studied the
surroundings, checking that Dean’s assurance of, “Dude, there’s no one around
to try to snatch your scrawny ass, you’ll be fine on your own” was accurate. 
Sure enough, there weren’t even any other piers or docks in sight, and he
couldn’t see anything that suggested there was another path.  Weird for a lake,
but whatever.  It figured that Dad would find the only secluded lake in the
country to stash them until summer break.
One last look around and he set his gun on the pier and covered it with his
towel just in case.  Bad enough if a civilian found a kid skinny-dipping, worse
to find a kid with a loaded weapon.  He started stripping down and, god, the
breeze felt nice against his sensitive, overheated skin.  Okay, so maybe Dean
had been onto something.
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of what Dean so generously called a
“bitch diaper.”  It was humiliatingly accurate.  But it helped contain slick
and mask the worst of the scent, so that jerk could just stuff it.  He stepped
out of it and even with the breeze, his scent smacked him in the face.  A few
months ago, his brother had grumpily complained that his scent was like "those
really smelly big white flowers...no, not magnolias, Sam, I know what those
are, Jesus"— and Dad had looked so caught off guard, practically stared bug-
eyed at Dean, which, like, not that weird for a guy to recognize flower
smells—that Sam had held back his comment that at least it was better than
smelling like weird, musky honey.  It wasn’t, though.  Dean smelled so good and
Sam got stuck smelling all girly and crap.  Sam hated being an omega.
He left his things in the middle of the pier and didn’t realize until after
he’d sat on the edge that—yep, now there was a smear of slick on the wood from
where Sam had lowered himself in and that was so gross.
The water was nice and cold against him, though.  It was cold enough to be a
little uncomfortable at first, but anything that took the edge off the
discomfort was good in his book.  He clung to the pier and tried to wash his
slick off the wood, but it and the water didn’t get along, like oil.
He drifted towards the very end of the pier and treaded water peacefully.  It
was beautiful outside, at least.  He was surrounded by giant, bright green
trees that made dappled shadows on the water.  Cicadas were already at it and
birds were joining in occasionally.  He wondered whether if he didn’t smell so
strong maybe he’d be able to smell the fuchsia wild roses that littered the
tree line in big bushes.  It really was pretty—and super weird that the
uninhabited cabin they’d taken was the only thing around.  Then again, Sam’s
entire grade was like 20 kids.  Dean’s grade could all fit in a janitor’s
closet if they wanted.  Another wave of cramps rippled through him.  Sam
clenched his teeth and thought about how best to present his science fair
project next week until it passed.
Gradually he was lulled by the cicadas and was basically napping with his arms
around a pier post so he didn’t’ literally drift off.
Sam roused as something brushed past his leg.  He kicked reflexively and
pressed his cheek harder against the wood post like a pillow.  Probably not a
great idea to almost fall asleep in a lake.  He did feel better though, not
that he’d tell—
Something bumped against his calf hard enough to knock his leg against the
post.  That was worrying.  He let go of the post with one arm to turn and look
behind him and barely caught sight of a large, dark shape before something
wrapped around his waist and yanked him down.  His yell cut off when water
filled his mouth and he barely kept from inhaling the chilly water.
He kicked as hard as he could and clawed at the thing around his waist but
didn’t even dent what felt like hard scales.  His chest was already aching from
the lack of air and he reached out to try to find the post again.  He needed
air air air air what the fuck was happening air air—post!  Two of his nails
broke when he dug his fingers in and pulled himself forward until he could wrap
his arms and legs around the post.  The thing—tail?—around him didn’t resist
much as he pulled up the few inches to the surface.  He spat out the water and
heaved in air.
Gun.  He had a gun.  It was in the middle of the goddamn pier.  He’d have to
get free in order to get to it.  He gripped the edge of the pier and tried to
pull himself up, only to be dragged down under again.  He did inhale this time,
but pulled himself up quicker.  His lungs burned and his throat went raw as he
hacked up what he could.  Okay, so it didn’t like him going that far.  No gun,
hard scales.  Eyes.  Find its eyes.
His biceps were already burning from just keeping him up with the weight of it
around him, but he didn’t dare let go in case it tugged again.  He looked over
his shoulder but his sight was blurry from tears and nothing seemed to be above
water.  He kicked around but didn’t hit anything.  Whatever was around him was
far away from the main body.  Unless.  Unless it was a snake.  A giant snake. 
Which meant that its head could be anywhere and Sam had no way to tell.  He was
so beyond screwed, how the hell—
It shifted along his waist and the end of whatever it was slid down his lower
back and between his cheeks.  His shocked inhale set off an agonizing coughing
fit, which the thing didn’t like, because it yanked him back down those few
inches.  Sam let go of the pole to try to dislodge the tail, but before he even
made contact he grabbed for the post again because the thing had instantly
started pulling him away from the pier.  He barely resisted shouting at the
pain from his broken nails as he forced himself to the surface again.  He
couldn’t afford to inhale more water.
As soon as he breached and inhaled again, he shouted his brother’s name as loud
as he could force past his chest trying to spasm.  There was pretty much no way
that Dean would hear him, but like hell was Sam not even going to try.  Another
yell was cut off as a shock went through Sam when something flicked against his
asshole.  He flailed a hand out when his kicks met nothing again, but this time
his hand hit something hard and scaly.  He jerked his hand away and clung to
the post.  Blinked rapidly to clear his eyes and looked behind him.
There was a large, looping, waving shadow under the water with both ends
leading to him.  The thing flicked against his heat-fevered hole again and Sam
startled and coughed.   The thing—Christ, it was long—rippled back and oh god
there was the head, the head had been—.  It’d been smelling him. 
A thought occurred to him and revulsion shuddered over the waves of pain
coursing through him.  No.  No, please, God, no.  He couldn’t go after the eyes
without a weapon because it could be venomous and kill him easily.  He yelled
for his brother again, honestly his only hope at this point unless he had
smelled wrong.  God, please please pleasepleaseplease let him smell wrong.
His next yell was apparently enough to annoy it because he was tugged down
again.  It pulled him to the cusp of the surface, but didn’t let up when he
tried to pull back up.  If he stretched he could barely get his nose out of the
water and he breathed frantically in between the gentle waves that were still
big enough to drown him if he timed it wrong.
The tail shifted along his waist again and the tapered end moved over his hole
to wrap around his thigh.  Dread built up alongside his panic as it continued
to curl around him.  The worst, though, the thing that had him leaking tears
into the lake, was that his body was reacting to the stimulation against his
hole.  His goddamn omega was at odds with everything else about the situation,
and was begging to be—to be fucked even more than it had been before he got in
this godforsaken lake, and his hole was twitching, waiting for something to
welcome in.
His lungs felt like they were wrapped in barbed wire and he was
hyperventilating between crests of water when the movement finally stopped.  A
tiny bud of hope came with the pause, but was mown down when something firm
moved across his ass cheek.  He flinched away hard and tried to pull up on the
post again.  Everything in him stilled when the firm thing shifted and caught
on his rim.  More tears leaked out and he clenched down with everything he had
to keep it—whatever it was—out.  It gave a couple prods and Sam prayed that it
would give up, please please please fucking please don’t let this thing—
The coils around him tightened and the firm thing shoved into him so viciously
that it drove him back up the post, his hard dick scraping against the wet
wood, and he clung to it desperately as he sobbed and coughed and bore down,
trying to get whatever the hell it was back out of him.  It shoved forward
again and he gagged when what must have been his cervix was rammed into so hard
it felt like something broke.  He could feel his pulse in his ass, stretched
around the smooth taper, and the pain radiating through him was laced with a
grotesque sense of fullness, like his omega was trying to convince him that
this was how it should be: stuffed, no matter by what.  There was another,
smaller shove and he finally got enough air in him to scream bloody murder as
his cervix was forcefully dilated.
Sam barely registered that at least it hadn’t dragged him down again for
screaming and was gearing up for another when something else pushed at his
entrance.  No, not something else.  Something more.  The taper swelled at his
entrance and the swell nudged forward, spreading him even wider, and he sobbed
as a bright, pinching sting joined the relentless burn.  Another couple inches
and the swell cleared his hole and slid easier up into him.  It pushed hard on
his prostate and he didn’t even have time to be ashamed of his orgasm in the
midst of vomiting up his lunch when he realized it was an egg.  He was being
impregnated.  By a giant snake lake monster.
The next retch turned into a scream when the egg breached his cervix.  Mind-
numbing pain reverberated through him and he frantically tried to crawl up the
post.  When it wouldn’t let him budge, he kicked back and tried to push the
coils off his waist with one hand.  As immovable as they’d been from the
start.  He felt the egg settle heavy in a space he’d never been conscious of
before, and sobbed and clawed when another egg tore him open.
His ears were ringing and he wasn’t sure if he was breathing at all, his chest
hurt so much.  He might have thrown up again, but his raw throat was barely
noticeable past the searing agony all along his abdomen.  After the third egg
started stretching his womb, he lost time.
He was jarred back into full awareness when cool lake water rushed into him as
the tapered thing finished sliding out of him and his hole tried to close.  The
water was almost soothing against the fire lancing through his tract, except
for how it was nauseating.  Everything was nauseating.
The coils slid off him and he glanced back with watery eyes to see the shadow
lingering.  Slowly, with shaky arms, he pulled himself along the edge of the
pier.  He was doing everything he could to ignore the ache of his distended
abdomen, of things pushed far beyond their limit, but he knew enough that he
wouldn’t be able to haul himself up over the side of the pier.  He kept his
legs absolutely still as he inched towards the shore, equally terrified that it
would attack him if it thought he was thrashing or if something came back out
of him.
He crawled onto the shore and as soon as his abdomen cleared the water, he felt
twenty pounds heavier.  His spine protested and pain shook violently through
him and he retched so hard that his vision went spotty but all that came out
was frothy spit.  He paused to try to breathe a little deeper—a mistake that
set him coughing and jostling what was inside him and retching again.  His
breathing was thready when he finally got into motion again and crawled onto
the pier.  He zeroed in on the lump of the gun under his towel.  He took
another break to gather his strength once he touched the warm metal; only for a
moment, though, because every second he took was another second that the
monster could have swum away.
Even with that urgency, standing was a slow process.  Pulling his knees up
under him made them touch the bulge where his skin was stretched taut and
sensitive and almost cracked and everything in his body protested at the
sensation.  Then he had to bring a knee up to kneel, which made things deep in
him shift and he felt warmth gushing down the insides of his thighs—water,
slick, blood, cum, shit, who the fuck knew.  Probably all of the above and then
some.  He screamed quietly when he finally leveraged himself up onto his feet. 
His entire body was shaking as he raised the gun.
The monster was still there, a little ways out from the pier.  Its head was
just above the surface like an alligator—a large, black, spade-shaped head with
brown stripes.  And bright yellow eyes.  Staring at him.  Sam tamped down his
cough as he took a bracing breath.  He squeezed the trigger twice and caught
the monster square in one of its eyes.  He watched it writhe for a minute
before it stilled and started to sink.
Sam staggered back slightly.  He felt lightheaded.  He left his clothes where
they were and turned to head to the cabin, his mind a blank now that the
immediate threat was gone.  He made it a few yards past the pier before he
collapsed.  Water blurped out of his mouth when his ribs hit the ground, and
something in his abdomen popped.  He shot a rose that was a few feet away,
hoping that Dean was still at the cabin and might have heard the shots,
wouldn't dismiss them.  The sweet smell of the devastated flower reached him in
sharp contrast to every inch of him that was screaming, burning to death on a
ceiling.
He passed out.
===============================================================================
[4 years later]
 “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d let me eat you out right here and
now?”
A scandalized giggle burst out of Sam and Dean felt accomplished and warm.  He
slowly crowded his brother back against the bright purple stall door, cupped
his jaw, and laid a slow kiss on him.  Sam hugged around his waist and melted
for a moment.  Right until someone opened the bathroom door and he shoved Dean
away towards the toilet, fighting a smile.
“Can’t you keep it in your pants for one afternoon?” Sam whispered.
“Of course,” Dean whispered back.  “But it’s not my pants in question.”  The
new person was using a urinal on the other side of the bathroom, so Dean risked
grabbing Sam’s ass.  He was smacked away, but Sam’s smile didn’t falter.
“You promised at least three movies,” Sam reminded.
“And I plan to deliver.”
“Good.  I’m going to go get more popcorn.”
“They’ll get suspicious if they see you again, so make sure it’ll last you.”
“Duh.”  Sam rolled his eyes and unlatched the door behind him.  He lunged
forward to steal one last kiss and then slipped out of the stall they’d been
making out in between movies.  Dean waited to make sure he left unharassed
before he turned to take care of business.
One more movie, then dinner, then….  They hadn’t talked about it since they
first got together, but Sam had said no actual sex until he was an omega in
scent and documentation only.  Today, Sam had finally been cleared for normal
activity after having his ovaries removed, and Dean was taking him out to
celebrate.  Well, Sam was celebrating.  Dean was slightly mourning and trying
to make sure that didn’t see the light of day.  It was a weird thing to mourn
anyway, considering Sam hadn’t had a womb for 4 years now so it wasn’t like
kids had ever been on the table.  Guess he’d been holding out some hope that
Sam would recover enough to be okay with heats.  But he understood why Sam
didn’t want anything to do with them.  And it was important that this be up to
Sam.
He zipped up and exited the stall to wash his hands.  Dean still had nightmares
about how he’d found Sam barely breathing, tinged blue, stomach bulging, with a
myriad of fluids leaking from his ass, including more than a little blood.  And
if Dean had nightmares…  He’d be okay if they never ended up having sex, or if
it ended up being him always bottoming, even if he was an alpha.  Honestly,
eating Sam out, lavishing attention on the scar tissue until his brother was
doing the good kind of crying, was one of Dean’s favorite things in the whole
world.  They’d had to work up to it for Sam to be okay with not staring to make
sure it was Dean the whole time, but it’d been so worth it.  So, yeah, he’d
live however it turned out.  Didn’t mean he wasn’t hoping, though.  His biggest
worry was that Sam didn’t want to be claimed as Dean’s mate.  Because Dean
really, really wanted people to know that the beautiful, brilliant teen was
his.
But that was a worry for another day.  Right now, Dean had date duty.
He glanced over the signs above the doors as he walked to the concession
stand—there, a movie that started about ten minutes ago so should just about be
wrapping up the previews.
Sam bounded up to him as soon as he turned to corner.  Pieces of popcorn fell
off the tall mound topping off the large bucket, and ice sloshed loud in the
soda cup, and Sam looked so like the picture of carefree teenager that Dean
felt a little breathless.
“I love you,” popped out without his permission as soon as Sam stopped in front
of him.
Round lips pursed in amusement.  “Random.”
Dean shook his shoulders, rubbed his neck, and firmly set himself in the here-
and-now.  “Whatever, dweeb.  I found the next movie.”
Sam was smirking at his side as they walked down the hall.  They shared a
dorky, excited grin after they glanced around to make sure no staff would see
them sneaking into the new movie.  As soon as they were in, Dean started
scouting out seats.  He fully planned on trying to make out as much as
possible—
The sounds from the movie finally registered and horror flooded him as he
turned to the screen to see a half-drowned man be pulled up into a boat on a
calm lake only to turn out to be half a man.  Oh fuck—
Sam burst out of his stock stillness and Dean jumped over the dropped
concessions to sprint after him.  His little brother made it two doors down
before he collapsed and threw up on the coarse carpet.  Dean skidded to a stop
and knelt.  He was painfully thankful when Sam didn’t flinch away from his hand
on his back.
“Fuck, I am so, so sorry, Sammy, I didn’t know.  It’s okay, you’re safe.”  A
hiccup-sob came out of Sam at that and Dean drew him into his arms.  Sam
latched onto him and started crying in tiny hitches.  Trying to make himself
smaller even when having a break down.  Jesus.  Dean rubbed Sam’s back and
buried his face in the floppy hair.  “I’m here.  It’s okay.”
“Dean.  Why c-can’t I just be normal?”
It was four years and a dozen states later, in a scuzzy dollar movie theater in
a tiny town, that Dean’s inattentiveness broke his brave little brother, his
soulmate, all over again.
End Notes
     I kind of hate the ending *shrug*
     Kudos and comments make my day! Concrit welcome :)
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