Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2769881.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester, John_Winchester, Original_Child
      Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Pre-Series, Underage_Sex, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Kink_Meme, Size_Kink,
      Top_Dean, Bottom_Sam, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnancy_Kink, Belly_Kink,
      Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha_Dean, Omega_Sam, Knotting,
      Milking, Male_Lactation, Squirting, Multiple_Orgasms, POV_Dean
      Winchester, Fingerfucking, Breast_Fucking, Self-Lubrication, Possessive
      Dean_Winchester, Possessive_Sex, Rough_Sex, Smut, Eventual_Happy_Ending,
      Fluff, birth_scene, Comeplay, Come_Marking, Rough_Oral_Sex, Pregnant_Sex,
      Pregnant_Sam, Domestic, Orgasm_Delay/Denial, Begging, Come_Inflation
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-12-14 Words: 4163
****** The Green Room ******
by compo67
Summary
     Sequel to "Just Them."
     Pregnant with triplets and the parent of a nine month old, Sam is
     given the chance to nest in a house, not a hotel room on the road.
     This is the start of a new direction for the Winchesters; one change
     happens after another and life moves fast. But through it all, Dean
     sees to it that Sam has everything he needs and more.
     Kink Meme Fill Dec 2014.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Sam is about to pop.
Dean can smell it.
The slick Sam produced early on in his pregnancy has changed scent and texture.
It’s thicker now, sweeter and heady. Several things are different this time
around, and Dean has kept careful notice.
At forty four weeks, Sam is calm. He just turned fifteen. They had a small
party for him in the nest he’s built in the small room they’ve decided will be
the nursery. John rented a house two months back, when Sam no longer fit in the
backseat of the Impala without his belly bumping against the front seats.
Getting Sam in and out of the car was an event, and the stress of having to
build new nests in every hotel started to take its toll. So the decision was
made and John has only picked up basic hunting jobs.
It's a nice house--small, simple, clean. John had the place professionally
cleaned top to bottom, and then he and Dean went through and laid down strips
of salt underneath the floor boards. The house is solid.
Immediately, Sam wanted to nest. 
The nursery is a little bare still, but Dean will fix that soon. There are
four, plain white cribs in the room. Noah has adjusted the best out of everyone
to their somewhat permanent home. He no longer has to deal with people in the
rooms around them moving, slamming doors, having sex, or arguing at all hours.
No more bathroom countertop diaper changes or questionable rental plastic
cribs. This small house isn’t much, but it’s the best that they could give.
This is what they’ve been able to cobble together—the three of them, who are
now four and soon to be seven.
Each crib has a downy soft blanket. Three out of four are untouched.
Dean has stayed home with Sam and Noah for the entire week. With Sam so close
to delivery, Dean hasn’t wanted to leave them alone for any amount of time.
It’s also important that he stay close to the nest so his scent can stick. He
is the alpha to this omega and these children.
They moved Noah’s bassinet to the nest in the corner, where he sleeps without a
problem most nights. 
Nights like this, however, Noah spends it with his grandfather, who has been
repeatedly told not to take him to the tracks despite getting in for free.
John’s reply is that Noah picks winners. Tonight, everyone compromised on John
and Noah going to the Applebee’s in town to watch a wrestling match. It’s the
most family friendly activity that anyone will get out of John for a few years.
Sam and Dean stay home. Sam can’t be moved much. Any movement has to be done
with help. 
Hormones have been Dean’s best friends in these past ten months. Sam was never
moody or angry as he swelled up with triplets. He glows, extra weight in his
face and all over his frame. Over time he got sweeter, softer in a way Dean
can’t explain. The combination of nursing Noah and carrying triplets has
changed Sam. Even now, with the weight of his belly rendering him immobile and
dependent on Dean, Sam keeps a cheerful disposition. He purrs when Dean props
him up to sit, making noises in the back of his throat as Dean presses their
mouths together. 
Dean painted this room green.
His cock bumps against the widest part of Sam’s middle. He’s fucked Sam that
way—rubbing himself all over the tender mound, coating the stretch marks there
in come, marking, claiming, possessing. There isn’t an inch of Sam that doesn’t
smell like Dean and vice versa. This is the most critical period of nesting. 
Separating them, Dean presses his nose to Sam’s throat and breathes in.
With both his hands, he tugs at the t-shirt Sam changed into half an hour ago.
It’s a baby doll shirt, light pink, stretched out tight over his belly. The
peaks of his leaking, swollen nipples show through, adding a rosy tint to
everything. This is how Dean found Sam as he walked in—naked, save for this
shirt.
“You planned this,” Dean murmurs, keeping his voice low. 
Long fingers card through his hair. “Was hoping you’d notice.”
“How could I not?” He tugs on the hem of the shirt, pulling it as far over
Sam’s belly as it will go without tearing. Sam squeaks and wiggles, his belly
heaving as his breathing quickens. They’ve fucked at least once a day
throughout this entire pregnancy. When Sam began to show, Dean came on his face
every morning so that his scent would be more obvious to alphas around them as
they traveled. Sam is his. 
Gently, Dean cups the heavy, pert breasts underneath the shirt. He bites down
on Sam’s right ear lobe and squeezes each breast until Sam cries out. A gush of
milk spurts. The shirt turns a darker shade the more Dean milks, until it seeps
out, trickling down to Sam’s thighs. Dean takes his hands off, but keeps his
mouth near Sam’s ear. A groan rumbles through him as he stretches the shirt
over Sam’s breasts and pushes up. He holds his grip there long enough, until
Sam’s face is flushed and Dean can hear a squelch of slick push out. 
His cock twitches. The start of his knot forms. 
“Can I?” 
“Uh huh.”
“You don’t even know what.”
“I don’t care,” Sam breathes, hiccupping when Dean pushes the shirt up, over
his large, wet breasts. “Just do it.”
Sam isn’t the only one who grew in this time. 
Dean hit his own growth spurt. He reaches down with his right hand and strokes
the length of his cock, rubbing the red head of it over Sam’s belly button. He
thinks about all the different things to do to Sam like this, while he’s heavy
and round with their children. He thinks about how he always wants Sam this
way—like double cherry pie.
His cock twitches. 
“Slick me up,” Dean orders. He moves them so that Sam is lower now, with Dean
kneeling over him. For a moment, Dean keeps the tip of his cock balanced at the
edge of Sam's mouth. The view is good--but not as good as what comes next. 
No other omega has this affect on him. No one else ever did. 
It's not a question of whether or not this is wrong. It's only a matter of it
being right to them.
Pink lips seal and stretch around his cock. Sam's cheeks bulge. His eyes water.
Halfway down, he begins to gag. Dean tilts his hips forward. Sam is gonna choke
on his cock or he doesn't get the knot. Tears spill over. The length of Dean--
thick and twitching--is taken in to the root. 
Sam's throat flutters. He glances up and Dean brushes a piece of hair back
behind Sam's ear.
Spit slick, Dean pulls his cock out with a pop. "Hold them," he murmurs,
shifting his hips. "Hold them up."
The omega beneath him obeys and pushes his breasts together with the palms of
his hands. Milk streams out of peaked, puffy nipples. Dean strokes himself over
the right nipple, rubbing the tip of his cock directly over the tight, spurting
bud. Sam gasps as Dean moves his cock to the crease of Sam's cleavage.  He
fucks Sam's chest, pumping his cock in between two rising, swelling breasts.
Milk trickles out, coating him, turning his cock a darker hue. With every firm
thrust into the warm, cushioned space, Sam moans, his eyes half lidded.
A knot forms. Dean pulls away.
He has to think. While he does, he kisses Sam, licking into him, breathing in
deep. Sam will pop soon. The smell of it is as heavy on him as his belly is.
Dean places a hand over the curve, protective and in awe.  "Can you stand?" 
"Uh... Maybe."
"Just for a minute."
"Okay."
The utmost care is taken to lift Sam up. It takes a few tries before they get
the right amount of leverage. As he gets to his feet, Sam groans from the shift
of his weight and the pressure of his belly moving. Panting, he stands at a
wider stance, his belly hanging low now, and he holds onto Dean the entire
time. Nesting and nursing are vulnerable times for omegas. All of Sam's meals
are brought to him here. Most of his time is spent sleeping or nursing.
Settling into one spot to nest has calmed Sam down considerably. 
Dean admires the view for a moment, biting his lip, battling the instinct to
shove Sam down and fuck him without prep or warning. He's going to knot Sam—he
has to be careful.
One more kiss.
Dean leans forward. Sam sighs and wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders.
Someone untrained in their life would be completely overwhelmed by the weight
of three on a fifteen year old frame.
“Shit,” Dean breathes. Something dark radiates from the base of his spine as he
positions Sam the way he wants. “Sammy.” The shirt is taken off. Hands against
the wall, Sam is exposed. The striped underside of his belly can be seen,
moving up and down as Sam’s breathing levels out; the stretch marks are darkest
here. Dean kneels and spreads Sam’s legs apart as far as he dares.
Slick drips as Dean presses a finger to the rosy, tight hole before him. He
pushes in, watching each cascade of slick dribble around and over him. The
muscle contracts and Sam’s hips push back.
“Please.” Sam’s arms tremble. “Dean, please.”
“Please what?”
Another finger slides in easy. Sam’s cock stiffens against his belly. “Knot me.
Please. Ah… ah…”
“My fingers ain’t enough for you, Sammy?”
“No!” Sam blurts out, desperate. “What… what were you… gonna do? Please, Dean,
please.”
It isn’t fair to keep teasing, but Dean’s knot responds to Sam begging for it.
He takes his fingers out and holds Sam open with both hands, stretching out his
hole, revealing quivering, crimson walls. Slick runs down; a gush spurts out
when Dean increases the grip of his hands on Sam’s ass. Crying, Sam moans,
tossing his head back, shifting his hips, trying to push back for some kind of
friction. He begins to sweat, and the smell of him intensifies around Dean,
permanently wired into him. He can smell everything Sam is feeling—arousal,
excitement, and pure, invigorating frustration.
Three movements are executed with precision and experience. He knots Sam every
day and plans to up until he pops. Not a day goes by without Sam knowing who he
belongs to—and who, in turn, belongs to him.
Standing from behind, Dean gently presses Sam forward. He won’t have Sam on his
feet too much longer. Sam is already getting tired, though he’d never admit to
it before Dean finished what he wanted. It’s Dean’s job to know his omega’s
needs and wants by cues. The first to address is this. Hormones increase the
production of slick and milk. He reaches under and around Sam’s chest and
gropes one full breast in each hand. At the same time he drives his cock into
Sam, he squeezes his hands so that milk sprays out. The pressure from both
actions at once has Sam crying out, twisting in Dean’s grasp, his thighs
trembling.
Sam opens up for Dean—luscious and supple.
All the way to his knot, Dean is smothered by soaking wet pressure.
“Oh,” Sam hiccups, his shoulders quaking. “…Dean. Oh.”
There have been days where the pressure from Sam’s belly was too much for
either of them, and Sam could only take Dean halfway for most of their time
together. But every time, Sam took his alpha’s knot. After a few, squelching
strokes, Dean’s knot is large and heavy at the base, aching as his cock drives
into Sam. He knows the spot and pounds against it briefly, before letting go of
Sam’s breasts and moving his hands down. This time Dean leans forward, tilting
their hips, cupping the bottom swell of Sam’s belly.
“Take it,” Dean growls into Sam’s ear. “Gonna fill you up.”
The solid bulge of his knot is sucked in at a pace that draws out the drag and
burn of it. Sam stretches open, the pressure increasing, and his belly heaving.
Dean doesn’t pump his knot in right away; he grabs hold of Sam’s hips and snaps
his hips forward in a pace that works Sam into a whirlwind of unintelligible
screaming and begging.
Dean fucks Sam hard enough that Sam’s breasts slap together.
Sam tightens around Dean and arches his back. The muscles in his arms and
shoulders flex as he scrapes at the wall for leverage. Dean feels a jet of
slick around his cock, coating his knot, the muscle spasming erratically as Sam
comes.
“NnnahhhDean! Oh, oh, pull out… pulloutpulloutpull…”
“I…”
“Pull out!”
His was about to knot Sam. Pulling out is painful for him. But the second he
does, Sam comes again, this time harder, until he can no longer hold himself
up. A weak signal is given and Dean listens, though his brain isn’t working at
full capacity. He lowers Sam down into their nest again while Sam shudders and
mewls from the exertion. As soon as Dean has Sam on his side, he warns him.
“I can’t stop anymore, Sam. You still want this?”
Panting, Sam nods. Fucked out, his mouth hangs open and his eyes flutter. He
takes a deep breath in and reaches back behind him to hold onto Dean. Another
push in—this time in one long stroke—and Sam makes a deep noise that starts
from his hips. Their nest is wet with Sam; his breasts continue to leak out
creamy ropes of milk. The harder Dean fucks him, the more milk releases from
tightly furled, dusky nipples. He lets Dean drink the extra from him every day.
Soon enough, as Dean can pick up, there won’t be much extra to go around. He
keeps one hand on Sam’s belly at all times.
Every night they sleep together. And every night, Dean sleeps with a knife
strapped to his thigh and a gun nearby. He knows his father’s footsteps—each
and every different variation of them—and growls at the suggestion that someone
unknown might come into their house.
Dean works his knot into the sweltering, constricting pressure of Sam’s ass.
His knot hurts in a way Dean only allows Sam to be the cause of. Completely
buried, Dean lets out a groan into the crook of Sam’s shoulder. Mineminemine
echoes in his head as he pushes his hips forward and gropes the large, heavy
mound of Sam’s belly. Every thrust forward makes Sam’s belly bounce. This isn’t
enough. Dean can’t get the proper amount of friction.
He hooks his arms under Sam’s and turns them over.
Squirming, Sam’s eyes snap open and his belly rolls forward while his hips work
down. The angle of his hips change, so does the way he sits on Dean’s cock. His
thighs shake and his ass clenches. Dean reaches down, below the curve of Sam’s
belly, and feels the bulge of his knot from inside Sam.
“I’m gonna… I’m gonna come!” Sam shouts, bucking against Dean as they sit chest
to back. “Uhn… Dean! Dean!”
“Not yet.” Dean moves his hand to the base of Sam’s cock, wedged there under
his belly but bloated and thick all the same. “Not til I do.”
“No, oh god, no please,” is partially snapped and sobbed. “I have to. Oh god.
Dean. You… oh, oh.”
Dean spreads Sam’s thighs open. Sam is heavy. But Dean has endurance. Their
hips roll together and the bulk of Sam’s belly is pushed out, coated in milk
and clean sweat. Dean bites down on Sam’s neck, leaves a dark, angry bruise all
the while hammering into him, his knot expanding and utterly plugging his
omega.
No longer coherent, Sam becomes boneless. He loses himself in the rotation of
their hips and the fight between Dean’s cock, knot, and his own inner walls.
Close. Close.
“You have to let me come!”
“…almost…”
“I can’t… Dean… I’m gonna… oh god…”
“Ahh! Ahhhnnn!”
Letting go, Dean moves both his hands to the widest part of Sam’s belly. He
corkscrews his hips and makes one, two, three punishing thrusts up as his cock
begins to spurt come. At the same time, Sam releases a surge of slick that’s
more like a fountain. Liquid pushes out despite Dean’s knot. Come and slick mix
together, and Dean can feel the very bottom of Sam’s belly distend.
Bloated, filled to the brim, Sam comes twice more while they’re knotted, crying
each time. His breath is ragged and his face is flushed with sweat and tears.
Dean milks him, wrings him out, until a puddle forms and they’re damp all over.
The room is awash with the scent of them.
As Dean’s knot deflates, come and slick seep out. Dean wipes away tears from
Sam’s cheeks with his thumb, and presses a kiss there. They roll over onto
their sides once more.
He’ll untangle them, move Sam over to the opposite corner, and clean up their
nest before John and Noah arrive. Tomorrow, Sam will suck him off and he’ll
come all over Sam’s face. He’s going to see Sam coated in everything he has to
give.
For now, they rest.
Easing out of Sam, Dean looks down. He likes things messy. He likes this kind
of sex—desperate, challenging, and raw. From Sam’s swollen, used hole, come
leaks out.
“Do it,” Sam whispers, his voice hoarse. “Please?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll wash you off in a while.”
“Uh huh.”
“Are you okay?”
“Mmhmm.” Sam purrs against Dean. “Jus’ fine.”
Two days later, contractions will start while Dean is knotted into him. Sam
comes hard enough to wind himself and Dean has to work him down to steady his
heart rate. An hour after that, the contractions get stronger. A massage is
given, plus a hot water bottle, and Sam nurses Noah to try to focus on
something else. Later that night, Dean will blow Sam, suck him down, deep
throat him until he comes without Dean’s cock or knot, which helps the pressure
in his back. But Sam won’t pop until a week later—forty five weeks pregnant and
massive.
His water will break after being unable to sleep for thirty hours from the
excessive weight on his frame. When labor starts, Sam cries in gratitude and
relief. No one was going to let him go another week like that, but it would
have meant a visit to the hospital. Dean fucks Sam up until three hours before
his water breaks. They remain fused together for a long time after they finish,
knowing that it will be their last for a while as Sam heals and his body
readjusts once more.
Labor starts at four in the morning on a Tuesday and it takes until two in the
afternoon on Wednesday for Sam to be fully dilated. Dean pumps water into him,
forcing him to drink as much as he can so he doesn’t sweat himself into
dehydration. John helps; Noah sleeps through a vast majority of the struggle,
waking to nurse once, crying from the lack of attention. Dean can’t leave the
nest, so John feeds Noah a bottle and the three of them realize that Sam’s
labor has stopped. They’ll think something is wrong and panic will spike
through the room. But John will figure it out ten minutes later. One of the
babies needs to be turned. Unlike delivering Noah, Sam does scream and cry and
beg for it to be over. Turning the baby is excruciating and he clings to Dean
as John’s hands press on his tender belly.
Half-kneeling, Sam will deliver the first baby at six in the evening on that
Wednesday. Noelle is the oldest; she weighs in at eight pounds, two ounces.
John and Dean work to clean her and help her adjust to the change in
temperature. Noah cries when he hears his sister.
The next baby doesn’t drop lower into Sam’s hips until nine o’clock, and by
then, Sam is exhausted and wrung out. When he isn’t pushing, he’s on his side,
moaning in pain, reaching out for Dean. He nurses two babies while struggling
to deliver two more. Noelle latches on perfectly, which is one less worry, but
John begins to raise concern for Sam’s blood loss and the strain on his body.
Fortunately, an hour later, Mariah is born—all perfect eight pounds eight
ounces of her.
Dean will coach Sam throughout the entire time. He will press their foreheads
together and breathe with Sam on every push. He will clean Sam’s face, give him
water, and never take his hands off him. In the last two hours for their last
baby, Dean kisses Sam and introduces him to Mariah, who has blond hair and
freckles. Sam cries as Mariah latches on with Noelle and the third baby kicks
but refuses to leave. John starts to press on Sam’s belly again, which causes a
howl of pain to escape Sam and Dean to flinch—ready to hurt his father.
Luckily, John expects this and readily explains that this little one needs to
come out now or they risk losing Sam.
All three babies are swaddled and placed in their cribs for the final stretch.
Laid down on his side, at eleven thirty at night—after more than forty hours in
labor—Sam will give one last push. John will greet the baby who had to be
turned, who turns out to be the biggest of the bunch. Matthew tips the luggage
scale at nine pounds even, completely healthy and loud.
Sam will give Dean three more children who all seem to look more like him and
less like Sam. Sam will call this completely unfair, but he won’t mind at all.
Four babies under one roof leaves them outnumbered and overwhelmed for two
weeks until they settle into a routine. John will be covered in grandchildren
and all of their spit up, pee, poop, and baby powder. Dean will see this
moment: from the rocking chair Dean will buy in two days, Sam will look up from
nursing Noelle and Noah at the same time and see John lean over Mariah’s crib.
Of all his grandchildren, she will look the most like their grandmother. And
she will be the leader of all her siblings in the complete and total conquest
of John’s heart. Who knew, Dean and Sam will both think, that all it would take
for John and Dean Winchester to settle down and let go of the wrongs done to
them, was the tiny grasp of a baby’s hand around their finger.
They will buy this house.
And one year later, Sam will announce to everyone that they’ll need to buy a
bigger one.
Life will move fast.
But for now, in the quiet of their breathing, in the comfort of their nest
together, Dean does as Sam asks, obeying because it is his pleasure in life to
give Sam everything he asks for and everything he doesn’t but wants anyway.
He slips two fingers inside Sam and draws out a portion of come. Carefully, he
spreads it over Sam’s belly, listening to Sam sigh happily as he and their
children are marked and claimed.
None of the Winchester children will be easy to date. All of them will be
trained in firearm safety by the time they’re ten. But there will be no
hunting. The Impala will be used to drive to soccer practices and ballet
lessons and the mall. Their family will grow and John will carry around a
wallet full of pictures that he shows off to people who are also trying their
best to heal. Dean will be as fascinated with his father as he is with his
children. Who knew, that life could change this way.
“I really like this color, Dean,” Sam murmurs, placing his hand over Dean’s on
his belly once the marking is done. “Good choice.”
Having Noah was the first of many good choices Dean has been making.
“Sam.”
“Hmm?”
“Stay with me.” He says it like a statement but he means it as a question.
In a few minutes, they’ll move, sticky and damp, and more than a few jokes will
be cracked. Sam will spend the rest of the day sleeping, until Dean wakes him
up to move back into the nest and to eat dinner. John will come back with Noah
by midnight, and Noah will nurse while John tells Dean about the fight and the
bet he had with the sonofabitch bartender.
It’s so easy to jump forward.
“Always, Dean.”
Sam keeps him in the present.
 
End Notes
     phew... this started out as plain porn and somehow, plot snuck in.
     hope you've enjoyed this. i like this verse. :) continued by the
     request of folks in the kink meme. now i'm back to my other projects.
     <3
     also, a nod to that marcy's playground song. XD
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