Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/318479.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, Bobby_Singer
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Drama, First_Time, Hurt_&_Comfort, Romance, Knotting, Comment_Fic,
      Omega_Verse, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics
  Collections:
      Sinful_Desire
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-01-12 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 12689
****** heal my hurts ******
by xdarlingnickyx_(Sonny)
Summary
     Life off of the road should be simple and easy, but as Dean [ Alpha ]
     and Sam [ Omega ] try to live in the pack house while their father
     Alpha, John, goes off on his usual hunts...they have to contend with
     the idea that each are approaching their heats and most fertile times
     where once John returns they will be bred out for pack purposes, when
     they only want to be with one another...
     [ Sam is 14/15yrs of age ]
Notes
     from take_the_knot comment fic meme - Request - Dean/Sam,
     underage!needy!Sam, self lubrication, fingering, dirty talk
     (Anonymous) Little Sammy (~14 years old) wakes up to find his hole
     leaking slick and with a deep ache for something. Jerking off does
     nothing for him and when he tentatively tries to finger himself, he
     almost explodes but it's still not nearly enough. The only solution,
     of course, is to go to his big brother, because Dean knows
     everything. Lots of fingering from Dean and sweet dirty talk before
     he fucks his little brother with his knot.
     **warnings [ kinks ]** : underage ; fingering ; self-lubrication ;
     spontaneous orgasm ; raw/bareback sex ; knotting ; dirty talk
***** Chapter 1 *****
“I don't know. I'm out here, workin' on the Impala...and it's not helping.”
“Well, be glad he's in school, huh? Or you'd really be up shit creek...on him
like he was a big juicy cheeseburger.”
“uh, 'bout that...uhm, he's actually here, came home early. Freakin' kid walked
home from school. He looked—I don't know...sweaty and drenched-through, like
he'd just run a friggin' marathon.”
“...you seen him since?”
“nah, man...been out here, distracting myself with classic rock en' the engine
open with smells of grease and oily lubrication all over me. Last thing I wanna
do is make him more sick.”
“...hmm...tha's strange. Puberty's 'bout the time it'd be more painful. Now,
right 'round 14 or 15 he's hittin' his next major heat stage, when he's most
fertile...”
“jesus, Bobby...then why the hell am I the one babysittin'? Dad and you realize
I'm about to hitmy prime soon...whenI'm in my second heat, and I'm most fertile
too?”
“Look, son...it's as simple as this...breeding ain't an exact science, so we
have to work with what we got, when we got it. One would hope that your bond as
brothers is stronger than your pack statuses. That you both understand exactly
what roles you play in the scheme of things.”
“While I don't mind being bred out to the pack in order to keep us strong...I
don't like the idea of Sam being tossed between other Alphas, just to make them
'pups'. We move aroun' so damn much, I don't know who's who...half the Alphas I
knew are gone now, mated and off on their own.”
“You can't change what he is, Dean. You know his fate was decided the minute we
learned he was Omega and not Beta...maybe it coulda saved us all some
heartache.”
“He's still...such a kid himself. I can't see...hell, I don't even wanna think
about them older Alphas taking him or even the younger ones about my age. It
just...makes me sick inside. I wanna pack our bags and take Sammy away—with me.
And, yes...I'd take him on as mymate—myownOmega, to keep him safe.” ...as my
own, like he's always been...Dean thinks only inside his mind.
“Boy...this ain't the time to be meddling in a decision tha's already been
made.” Bobby clears his throat. “You shoulda made your grievances known a
helluva lot sooner than now. John's slowly getting arrangements made...Sam's
prolly feeling his heat come on, which means he's reaching the perfect time to
breed. When your father returns...don't plan on your brother being at home much
for the next few weeks...”
“What if I just...go right up there an' take him?”
Bobby sighs heavy. “...Ihave no problems, but your father's looking forward to
the cash trade-off to keep you boys afloat for the next few months...”
“He doesn't need to sell Sam's womb to make a decent living to keep us fed and
warm. He can get enough from my breedings, since stronger, and fertile, Alphas
are harder to come by, and there's plenty of—”
“...preachin' to the choir, boy. John's got the scent of another hunt. Might
keep him away past Winter. He's making sure you two don' want for anythin'.”
“What? An' leave me here to raise Sam an' some other knot-head's 'pup'? No...”
Dean shakes his head adamantly refusing even as a mere idea, not as a reality—-
but the “idea” is closer to becoming true. “...if I'm gonna raise a 'pup' of
Sam's...it's gonna be mine.”
“Fine...fine.” Bobby grumbles in aggravation, not wanting to get caught up this
Winchester family mess all over again. John knew where his thoughts about Sam's
breeding went, even Dean's as well. “Do what feels right...natural an'
instinctive to you.” He knew he was stepping on some toes with this one, but he
had to try. “It's not unheard of for siblings of the same family, in the same
pack, but of different statuses to mate, as long as you realize...once you do
this, Sam'll be yours. Not just yourmate, but yourfull responsibility. Along
with any 'pup' or 'pups' you two have.” bobby clears his throat, knowing that
silence from the other line meant Dean might be considering the very idea as a
viable possibility. “John may hate you for a while, but I think he'll come
aroun' once he knows that his sons are grown, able to fend and take care of one
another.”
“...mmm-hmm...” Dean picks up the tools he has laying around the open hood's
ledge and begins putting them back in their proper places. “...look, Bobby. I'm
really getting' worried 'bout Sam. Maybe I'm jumpin' the gun and it's not his
heat...he could really be sick.”
“yeah...yeah, of course...I'll let you go. You give me a call when you know
more. You'll have me frettin' for hours if you don't.”
“I promise, man. I will. If you hear from metoosoon, then it's an emergency and
I might need your help.”
“oh, criminey...don' say that shit. Sam'll be fine. You'll know exactly what to
do to tend to him the best way you know how.”
“...g'bye, Bobby.”
“Bye, son.” Bobby has to quickly add to make sure Dean doesn't get seriously
reamed out by John, because he knows how the kid looses focus when it concerns
Sam. “An' lock up the garage before you head into the house. You know how much
that car means to your father.”
“yes, I do...I surely do.” Dean mutters out almost under breath as he hangs up,
moving to the sink to wash his hands. As he dries the moist skin, he wanders
around to dip inside the front cab of the Impala, turning the radio off. He's
pretty sure his father won't mind if the hood's still raised, but he goes over
to the switch to move the small lever, causing the garage door to lower at a
jarring slow speed. Luckily, he knows he can walk away and it'll still fall on
its own, he doesn't have to stick around. Which he doesn't, because as he shuts
off the lights, he takes the set of steps that lead into the tiny mud/laundry
room and toes off his boots.
Then two second later he's shucking off his dirty t-shirt to replace it with a
cleaner one, or one that doesn't smell like his own sweat, and a stank mixture
of grease/gasoline/oil. He can't recall which basket is clean clothes and which
ones are needing to be washed. It had been Sam's turn for laundry duty this
week, and the kid never paid attention to the timing of the loads of clothes,
so it takes him the whole damn time, rather than only a full twenty-four hours
or maybe a day and a half.
Dean can't complain, honestly. Sam's got school to go to that drags him away
from chores around the house and half the time he's bone-tired when he comes
home at 2:30-3pm, mainly because the school is half regular school...the other
half is teaching him about his body as an Omega and exactly what it'll take to
be the kind of mate an Alpha wants. He's high school age, but Sam's too smart
for the level of education the tutors are teaching the fifteen-year-olds. Dean
knows how bored Sam gets at school, while dreading the rest of the classes he's
signed up for, and some not by choice. There has got to be a ton of pressure on
the poor guy to be everything he can be. So, Dean tries to cut him slack when
he's at home.
This is why Dean sniffs at the baskets, figuring out which is clean and dirty,
then he separates the clothes. He should've known better, because not only is
he touching his father's and his own clothing, but Sam's as well. And because
Sam is slowly going through his encroaching heat, there are more young boy's
boxer briefs in the basket than usual. They used to be covered in slick, sticky
and probably sopping wet. Now, they're so dry and stiff they're like
cardboard...and Dean can still scent the smell. He always has been able to
become keenly aware of his brother's scent, the potent stench of his slick as
he wakes from sleep in the mornings or when he tries to take a nap, drenched in
all-over body-sweat and laying in his own pool of slick. As usual, there's a
set of sheets, mostly the fitted ones, that Sam discretely had to pull off his
mattress to hide the fact he can't control his young Omega body from self-
lubricating whenever he feels a second of arousal.
The thought...the single image alone, sends Dean's body into overdrive. He's
been around for some of those times, but for the most part, Sam likes to lock
him out of his room when those times happen. Or Dean arrives two seconds too
late and Sam's already cleaned up his mess and he's calmer than he was an hour
or two ago.
Now Dean's quickly shoving a load of whites into the washer, throwing in the
usual trio of liquids and powders, then he pushes the buttons and walks away to
check out the dryer, make sure there isn't a leftover set of clothes to take
out and fold. He hates being half-assed about chores, so if he starts, he likes
to finish to a viable end until he's forced to walk away or sit there and
twiddle his thumbs. He's got lunch to prepare—he'll make something for Sam,
too, and take it up to him—and he really needs to get upstairs before he
regrets waiting for too damn long and he misses whatever's going on with his
little brother.
==&&==&&==&&==
Sam wakes up from his thirty minute nap in a pool of his own slick, typical
sweat-drenched all over his body, having kicked off his covers eventually as he
slowly began to overheat. It's an embarrassing moment, yet again. Not because
of what he must look like, but because of what he thought about in his dream.
When he learned his fate, being brought in front of a group of Alphas to be
looked over, found attractive and arousing or being found lacking and
rejected...
...he has taken to imagine that moment a bit differently; that every single
Omega he's being bred alongside of has been taken and he's the last one
standing. And as he bows his head in shame, all these fertile and horny Alphas
look at him like he's a big piece of steak. His “moment to shine” is handled a
bit differently where he's forced to undress and turn around, get on all fours
and push his hole outward for as long as he can hold the position. It doesn't
matter if he leaks lube or if he makes his own cock hard, pre-come seeping out
as he puts himself on display. Someone, the Breeder, controlling the “auction”
wanders closer, a riding crop in his hand as he rubs the flat square piece of
softened leather over Sam's skin, down his sloped back to slap his bare ass
lightly, then slipping down to tap on his gaping pink-hole...and then the most
intense overwhelming release hits Sam at the very moment and he comes all over
himself...the Alphas growl and applaud, each of them vying for a sample of
taking him one-by-one...
...and then Sam wakes up to find himself back in reality, in his own bed and
laying face-down and on his stomach in a mess his body created while he had
been sleeping...dammit...he wished he could control this like some of his Omega
friends could, or swore they could since it's more of a private thing each of
them deal with in their own bedrooms.
Stupid of him to trust Scotty McPhelps with those dumb pills of his he swore
would take care of Sam's “problem” when he was in school, and couldn't get
away. Sam had just gotten up the nerve to ask Scotty to bring them in today,
and they, apparently, don't work instantly or else he's having bad side effects
to them. This feels worse than his heats usually do and he can't stop this
feeling of needing to be filled or the urge to push backward into a huge knot.
He rolls over to find a dry spot on the fitted sheet, taking off soaked t-shirt
and his soggy briefs, throwing both over the side of his mattress to make a
squishy plop to the floor. He spots a dirty, but dry bath towel nearby that he
snatches quickly and lays down right where the huge wet spot has formed. He
flips back onto his belly, making sure to tuck his erect cock under his body,
then he hitches his right leg up to open his crease. It's worse than he thought
because he must've been leaking for longer than his dream lasted, his skin
almost sticks together as he tries to open his thighs. Painful, yes, but mainly
pleasurable as he exposes his wet hole to cool air. Sam drops his flushed face
into his pillow, biting down into the plushness, grabbing some pillowcase
material in between his teeth.
He hates doing this next step, but he knows it has to be done or he'll keep
making himself suffer. But he doesn't like to just stick fingers into his body
and bang them hard. He actually pretends the hand chosen to do the action isn't
his, but it belongs to an Alpha—an Alpha who adores him...wants his body, but
not just for procreation, that the Alpha really loves him and wants to share
their bodies together. He doesn't like to admit that the image he has is Dean,
so it become Dean-like—there's a Senior Alpha in his school, a real
jock—football, basketball, baseball—and he has the sweetest smile when he looks
at Sam, and the “wink” that's sent to him each morning often sets him off
because it reminds him too much of Dean. And the fantasy Alpha becomes this
messy hybrid of his older brother and this Senior jock...and sometimes he can
come with a satisfactory release, but other times...like now...no matter how
much he tries to play at seducing his own body, it's never enough.
He'll slide down his cheek to cup his jawline, sometimes taking his fingers
into his mouth to moisten them and trail along his throat, he'll soothe over
his collar to rub over one erect nipple...pull and twist, make himself cry and
buck backward, then it's off to the other nipple, where he does the same but
harder because it's better to feel the pain to hide the agony of no one
actually being there, no warmth at his back and no cock to fill his waiting
hole. He'll slip down his ribcage and hold onto a hip, sometimes he'll tangle
in his pubic hair and tease his own cock, tickle down the throbbing vein or rub
over the leaking tip to spread the liquid over the sensitive skin, wetting his
fingers again with the taste of his own juices, but then he's back to cupping
his ass cheek. And as he pulls it apart from the other cheek, he teases down
the crack, finding the wide hole that fluctuates in time to his fingers being
near, like his body knows what's about to happen.
He can feel the thickness of the lube once he enters, and he buries his face
away in the pillow again as he jams those two fingers—always two fingers, never
just one. Even the first time, during puberty, when he was thirteen and he
learned exactly who he was compared to Dean. He had wanted to be an Alpha.
Hell, even a Beta. Anything tonotbe an Omega...jesus, not that, please...
But then again, the world didn't take kindly to Sam Winchester and devised to
always give him the shit-end of the stick when it came to life sucking.
As he pushes deeper in, trying to simulate what it must be like for a huge
length to fill up his emptiness, he realizes that maybe he's not getting off
because of the angle. So he slowly rolls over onto his back, bending his knees
to plant his feet down on the mattress, toes curling into the sheet and towel
as he strokes his cock, teasing with his other hand, tugging and juggling his
oval testicles to then slip along the wetness to find his hole again. He can't
quite get inside unless his lifts his legs, bringing his thighs close to his
chest. When he does that he has to let go of his length, attempting to wrap his
arm across the backs of his thighs. He's trapped his arm down the front of his
body, cricked his hand in order to fit two of his fingers—any fingers—past his
sphincter into the slickness that's starting to collect but not release. He
knows if he doesn't come soon, the stuff is simply gonna ooze out of him and
dripping down his inner thighs. He'd rather come hard once and have it be over-
with, but he just can't find the right sweet spot. Or the pills he took have
made him more horny than he's ever been since nothing seems to appease his
wanton body.
And the worse thing he can think of is still being caught trying to get
off...his bed being covered in his slick and spotted in moisture to prove just
how weak of an Omega he is...and then Dean'll walk in and...well, what?
Sam is pretty certain he had locked the door, but now he's not sure because
he's too caught up in his arousal to remember. But he does in the instant he
hears the soft knock and Dean calling out, “hey, Sammy...you okay in there?”
“...uh...” Sam doesn't know how to respond, legs up, arm stuck and fingers deep
inside himself. He hears the quick twists of the knob and is relieved to know
he was on the ball with locking the door ahead of time. But then...he forgets
this house is old and these doorknobs are crap; the locking mechanisms
sometimes stick, giving the false idea of having locked yourself safely away
from curious eyes. “...wait, Dean, I...”
And before he can get the rest of his sentence out, his older brother enters
his bedroom, clearly expecting to find something else entirely than what he
finds Sam doing. Certainly not as comically perverted as the way he looks right
now.
For some oddball reason, Sam stops caring if Dean sees him or not. He works his
fingers roughly into his hole, whimpering and crying, scrimping his face up in
agony as he tries to build up to an orgasm that just doesn't want to surface
and expel from his body. And to show how much he doesn't care about Dean being
there, Sam cranes his head completely backward into his pillow, closing his
eyes as he pounds into himself in a frenzy.
“...jesus christ, kid...” Dean really thought he'd find Sam asleep, not trying
to fuck his own hole into oblivion. He wanders over, placing a knee on the bed
and attempting to pull Sam apart from having folded into himself. Probably not
the brightest idea he's come up with, but he has to do something to stop that
pained expression from sticking on Sam's sweet, innocent baby-face. It's so far
removed from the wanton knot-slut he just saw seconds ago. He manges to hold
down an arm and a leg, watching as Sam folds toward him, finally feeling the
shame of what he had been doing. Dean allows Sam to curl into him, letting go
of the limbs so he can soothe down the hunching back and grab the back of the
nape to tangle in the dark brown hair. God...not only is Sam covered in the
lube and his own come, but there are buckets of sweat coming off him like he's
standing close to a flame. “...sammy, man...what is up with you? Why you home
so early, for one?” Dean has touched much more disgusting things, he's not
embarrassed by what he can only imagines coats the stickiness over Sam's skin.
He looks down at the material of the towel, where a blotch of wetness is
beginning. He pulls back the towel to see the large pool of slick on the sheet.
“...oh, boy...” Now he thinks he knows what's going on. Dean brushed back the
dangling brown bangs to press a soft kiss to the pale brow. “Get up.” He moves
backward to stand up, motioning for Sam to roll off the mattress toward him.
“...wanna shower or take a hot bath?” He'll help Sam with either that he
decides he wants.
Sam sits on the side of the bed, hunched over, trying to hide his nudity away
and all the bodily juices he knows he's covered in. There isn't a stretch of
flesh not sticky or wet. He feels like such a knot-slut now, he can only
imagine what his brother thinks of him. “...uhm, bath, I guess.”
Dean pulls off the towel, not sure he should use it to cover Sam, but he takes
it away, throwing it into a basket, to move into the bathroom and find a larger
towel or even a robe. He notices how shamed Sam is about his naked body and he
doesn't want to embarrass him anymore. Dean might be going through his own
aroused state—from smelling Sam's leftover scent and feeling his intense
heat—but it's never too much that he forgets how to take care of Sam. Even
before he mates with him, which he will be doing once Sam is comfortable in his
own skin. Right now, the kid looks like he wants to crawl away and hide
somewhere he feels safe. Dean doesn't like that the “safe place” might not be
wherever he is; he's about to change that idea in the next few hours.
He brings Sam a short robe, holding out the material for him to slip his body
into. Sam stands, arms V-ed across his chest and covering his genitals as he
sticks out one arm, sliding into a sleeve and then he dips low for Dean to
settle the material across his slim, broad shoulders, so he can tuck his other
arm into the next sleeve, safely tying the robe to completely cover his nudity.
Dean pats the shoulders, curling around the bone to give a sharp squeeze,
letting Sam know he's here with him and everything is okay. What startles Dean
is the fact that without him noticing, his little brother has shot up another
inch; pretty soon, when he's sixteen or seventeen, the kid won't be such a
“kid-size” anymore. Sam has always been long and lean, rather on the thin-side,
but he's filling out in places, with muscles that have suddenly just cropped up
like they were there all along. Dean's also trying not to imagine the size of
that impressive adult-sized cock—it's length and girth—nor the wide gape of
that gloriously pink-hole that he swore “winked” at him as he walked in...
Dean's a bit more rougher with Sam as he steers him toward the bathroom. He
passes him to slide over to the tub, snatching the curtain to pull across and
dipping low to turn on the faucet knobs.
Sam leans weakly on the wall, the robe hanging off his young body, making him
look like one of those Roman boy slaves. Though the robe is tied around his
thick waist, the lapels drape open to expose the willowy muscled chest, baring
one dark erect nipple, the other popping out of the soft material. He licks his
lips, finger-combing back his shaggy locks to then cross forearms over his
chest. “I coulda done that on my own.” Sam smirks as he watches Dean sit on the
side of the porcelain and fill the tub with water like he was still some doe-
eyed innocent.
“I know...” Dean mumbles out as he dumps a palm-sized dollop of liquid bath
soap, swishing around his arm in the water to create a layer of bubbles. He
doesn't know why he's always been happiest “babying” Sam or “mothering” him, if
that was the actual word of what he did occasionally to make the kid aware of
his deep love and affection. This was probably the sole reason he had a problem
with this whole situation with breeding Sam out to another Alpha, and why he
was whole-heartedly against it. No matter how old Sam got, Dean would always
find him too young and naïve, still innocent in the ways of the harsh, cold-
hearted world outside their doors of wherever they lay their heads to call it
home.
Sam understood what Dean was trying to do. He hated this too, even more than
Dean did. He didn't like knowing that his brother would be bedding down with
Omegas and Betas, finding his own connection with a mate so he could create a
'pup' in some other pack member's womb. He wanders over, sitting down on the
closed toilet lid. Dean is turned perfectly at an angle where he can lean
against he hunched back and lay his head down, resting against the only scent
and heat that's been able to calm his aroused states, but not lighten their
heaviness when they attack him. He closes his eyes, pressing his cheek against
the space between the wide shoulder blades, brushing his hands down the soft,
worn t-shirt material, feeling the warm supple body underneath.
Sam flips his head, pushing his other cheek into the body as his fingers lower
to the waistband of the jeans, to then slide up beneath cotton and settle at
the hips. He simply taps his fingertips against the bare skin, not even imaging
what his touch and closeness are doing to Dean. But the quick, hurried way Dean
stands, to then push away to walk out of the bathroom, is a sure sign that
something is peculiar about his brother today. Maybe finding Sam fingering
himself was a bit more disturbing than Dean was prepared to see. Frowning, Sam
unties the robe, sitting down where Dean had just been to throw one leg in to
test the water temperature, then the other leg to finally slip down and sink
under, fully drenching himself in hot water.
Dean had to leave that bathroom or knot Sam right there on the toilet or...drag
him into the tub, take him in a precarious position on the old porcelain and
tiled wall. He needed distance, but then again...the bedroom filled with
nothing but Sam's slick scent and his all-over body odor...Dean really didn't
know which was worse. He pulls off the fitted sheet, keeping the array of
pillows near the headboard, then notices that the thin sheet and comforter are
still clean, just piled around the end of the bed-frame where they had been
kicked off earlier, so he won't replace them. He goes over to the trunk at the
end of the bed, digging around for one of the mis-matched fitted sheets—Sam was
smart to tell him to stock up on plain-colored fitted sheets, no other bed
linens, when he went shopping. Dean touches the plastic cover over the
mattress, which was another smart addition Sam asked for so he wouldn't keep
ruining mattresses; they learned that lesson in Sam's thirteenth year, during
his puberty heats.
He can hear the splashing, and light laughter fits, the way Sam plays in the
water, rather than settling down to wash himself and shampoo his hair like an
adult. Dean knows he should go back into the bathroom soon to make sure Sam
hasn't missed a spot, but he'll finish up making the bed, then he'll go through
Sam's drawers to collect a decent pile of clothes Sam can change into. He won't
ask Sam to wear everything, not yet, because Dean will just be taking
everything off. He looks down at his hands, catching them shaking. It's kind of
nerve-wracking to prepare in the seduction of your own kid brother, but somehow
he knows it's going to be something special, and it'll go better than he
imagines in his mind. He never gets Sam's reaction quite right in his
fantasies.
Sam has a tendency to throw him zingers that just rip at his heart. One minute
he'll be so mature, Dean thinks he's talking with another adult, but then Sam
will become that little kid that still has tons to learn about life. Dean knows
that once he's mated with an Alpha, Sam will have no choice but to grow-up. And
it saddens him to think about that happening with another Alpha who might try
to change his brother too fast, never allowing him to still be the teenager he
is.
Dean palms a pair of tight boxers and there's a t-shirt on his forearm as he
re-enters the bathroom. He drops them both down on the sink ledge, smirking
over at Sam as he sponges down his legs, paying attention to his inner thighs
and in every crevice he can't see, even down to his toes and between them to
scrub over the soles of his feet. Once Dean reaches the doorway, he hears his
name called out. “...what?” He folds his arms over his chest, tucking his hands
away under flexing biceps.
Sam momentarily tilts out of the tub to slap his hand down on the toilet seat
lid. “...c'mere...” The hand is covered in sudsy water, so the bubbles pool for
a minute, then start to run down a side of the lid, like it's not quite evenly
attached to the rest of the toilet. Dean's going to have to check that out,
because he doesn't know why he keeps having to tighten those back bolts to the
lid almost every couple of days. Sam waits until Dean is seated before he
crawls out again, and then he's sliding his arms around Dean's neck tight,
allowing water and suds to drip over his brother's clothes and bare skin. He
buries his face away in the side of the long neck, pressing his hot forehead
in. “...mmm...m'sorry...”
Dean's unsettled by the sweet embrace, the warm affection given. “What for?”
One thing he loved about Sam being Omega was the never-ending hugs they could
share without shame. He didn't even mind getting wet so much because he had
exactly what he wanted in his arms. Now, if only he could channel that into an
intimate sensual moment to then test the waters of it actually being
sexual...he'd be a very happy, satisfied Alpha. The reason he didn't mind
mating—breeding with other pack members—was because he only wanted one mate in
his life—and that would be Sam.
Sam shrugs weakly, slipping down to lay against Dean's chest. God, this was his
most favorite spot ever. He feels his body even out, his breathing relax and
his heart rate slow...and then those familiar strong arms surround him and his
body churns with a new sensation. He furrows his brow, scrunching his face,
bewildered by this sudden onslaught of arousal, but it isn't begging to be
quenched right this second. mmm...weird. “...help me wash my hair, huh? Like
you used to do.”
“Like I used to?” Dean tightens his arms in a hard squeeze, a gentle kiss to
the crown of the already wet head. One hand pets the long strands and Sam mocks
a purring cat from under his throat. Dean swallows down a chuckle, lifting his
brother's chin to stare down at those ever-changing features that still make
his heart clench. He knows the minute those hazel eyes open, he'll be a
complete goner for sure. Dean knows he better play off his aroused state, so he
pushes down on the head, acting like he'll dunk Sam entirely under, possibly
holding him there for a few seconds.
“...no...nooono...” Sam can't help but giggle in between his pleas. Dean's
barely giving any strength, Sam mostly weakening himself so he can play at
drowning. A quick way to dunk his head to re-wet it. When he resurfaces, Sam
rubs at his lids, spitting out an arch of water he intentionally swallowed.
Dean's sitting there with shampoo in his hands, ready to scrub away with his
fingertips. Sam makes it easy for him by folding his arms on the tub ledge and
offering out his head. Dean actually takes it as a serious task and scrubs
hard, massaging the scalp, even reaching the back hairline and around the ears.
Sam closes his eyes like he could return to sleep but he knows the step that
must come next.
A bathroom cup, from the set they bought at the store, will help. Dean fills
the cup with bathwater, then dribbles the liquid slowly over Sam's head as he
cranes his neck backward. Once most of the shampoo dissolves, Sam leans his
head forward. Dean dumps the full cup over as he rubs fingers through the
individual strands. It's odd to him that Sam sits there and takes whatever he
does to him with no complaints. Even though he's done washing the hair, Dean
can't stop wanting to touch some part of Sam. So he starts to wring out the
hair with his hands. Leaning Sam against his knees, placing a hand on his back
to ease him to comfort. Sam scrambles for the drain plug, still sitting in the
tub as the water vanishes, and a few bubbles remain. Sam rubs down his skin on
arms and legs like he's able to wipe away water, but he's merely checking for
any stickiness. He's a little stunned when Dean helps him to stand and turns on
the shower spray for him so he can really wash-off what's still stuck to him.
Dean twists away to grab the extra-large towel; he can't watch Sam touch
himself like he has to: over pubic curls, down penis shaft and over ball sac,
between ass-crack and then an all-over body-wash from drenched head to pruney
feet. He holds open the material as Sam steps out and he'll leave Sam to dry
himself too. Dean's afraid of something too soon when he knows Sam's not ready
and he's unclear exactly how far he wants to go.
“When you're dressed, come back out...we need to talk.” Dean knows it's the
worst thing he could say to start a conversation off with because he knows
Sam'll think it's about what he had been doing when Dean had walked into his
room.
Dean was right. Sam dried off quickly, donning t-shirt and warily spying the
new pair of briefs. He didn't know what was in store for him so he left the
underwear on the sink, wrapping the towel about his waist, tucking a corner in
and slowly strolling out of the bathroom. When he comes out, he notices that
his room is spotless—Dean's military precision of no dirty clothes on the
floor...and the bed was re-made with a cleaner fitted sheet. Dean had pulled
back the top sheet and comforter on one corner, like creating a spot for Sam to
lay as he took one above the covers on the other side of the mattress. Dean had
his arm stretched across Sam's pillow. He lowers his arm to put his hand on the
spot he wants Sam to take. Sam complies, backing up to sit, then slide his
bottom over, hoping not to dislodge the towel. He settles back on the pillow,
wet hair plopping on the pillowcase. Dean could grumble about a wet head of
hair leading to a cold, but he just sits upright, grabs the bottom hem of his
t-shirt and slides it off to flourish it inside out, then mashes the material
around Sam's head, getting him to lift up so it can tuck around the entire
shape.
Dean clears his throat. “Is that why you left school?”
Sam knows exactly what Dean's asking. “...yeah. I couldn't sit still in class.
I started getting, uh...wet, but it hadn't soaked through my jeans, just my
underwear. I went to the school nurse, who recommended I go home. An' so I
slipped out before she could make a call to you or Dad.”
“Dude...” Dean rolls so he's close to Sam's side. He curls his arm tighter
around the shape of Sam's head. “I don't mind pickin' you up for shit like
this.” Dean dips his head, resting his chin on the t-shirt-covered head; his
arm has slipped down to wrap around a shoulder. “...you know I wanna help you
through this any way I can.” He drops his voice to almost a whisper, just
between them.
“I know, man.” Sam starts to turn on his right side, keeping his head down as
he rolls toward Dean's chest wall. The one that's bare, muscular and staring at
him with pert dusky nipples and a smattering of dark blond chest hairs that
trail down to dive under the waistband of jeans and briefs to point to
similarly colored pubic hair. Sam closes his eyes, feeling his hole
twitch...god-dammit...this is exactly what he didn't want. “...sorry...so
sorry...” He mumbles as he brings up his left arm to tuck the hand under his
cheek.
Dean hates the desperation in that soft apology, like Sam knows he has done
something wrong and he's willing to take whatever punishment Dean doles out for
him. Dean hates that he can't see Sam's face, so he scoots down, laying on the
pillow, green eyes staring over as he starts to peel away the completely soaked
t-shirt. He places the material between them, reaching out to brush knuckles
over Sam's cheeks. “I can only imagine how difficult times are for
you...hitting this type of heat and not being able to, uh...properly satisfy
yourself.”
“What do you do?”
“...huh?”
“...your knot...most swell sometimes by accident or jus' 'cuz...what do you do
beside jerk off?” Sam lowers his eyes and blinks, then raises his gaze to
stare. “They show us films in class...the knot going inside the, uh...amount of
semen released over time...” He swallows hard, scratching at the flush he feels
crawling up his chest. His hole pulsates again and his legs go restless; he
doesn't mean to kick and then tangle with Dean's legs. “...most make a huge
mess like you see I can do, all by myself.” He drops his eyes again.
“If I find myself focused enough, I take it to the bathroom...like when I wake
up with an erection or...I'm letting my imagination run wild and I'm near some,
uh...receptacle I can just...ecchem...shoot into. I try not to do it often, you
know...can't be wastin' good sperm.” Dean wiggles his index finger like he's
John Winchester to his Alpha son.
Sam softly chuckles—a little of his embarrassment disappearing. He merely
twists his upper torso, leaving his legs twined with Dean's, who seems to have
a good hold on one of them. “...confession time?”
Dean snickers, folding his bent right arm under his chin, fascinated by staring
at Sam's profile as he lays there with a smirk and a shit-eating grin ghosting
his lips. “oh, Lord...it's not something that'll put me to shame, is it?”
“I don't know.” Sam clears his throat, bringing his arms over to rest on his
chest, tapping out a beat. “I know you've been curious to why you keep having
to fix my toilet seat lid.”
“...yeah, what about that, huh? I know you're not that dangerous lifting the
lid to take a simple piss.”
“That's not why.” Sam leaves it at that, lifting a hand to rest fingers on his
mouth.
“oh?” Now Dean is mega-ultra curious. He leans near Sam's face. “...share your
most intimate secrets with me, Sammy...I won't tell a soul.” Dean reaches out
to tuck back a lock of hair behind an earlobe. He knows the “Sammy” kills every
time.
“well...” Dark lashes blink fast, then lift up to the eyebrows as the hazel
eyes gaze at Dean. “...sometimes I sit backward, facing the shelf-thingie and
I, uh...finger myself, or I...find something phallic-shaped to fuck my hole
with.”
Dean blinks, lowering his eyes to Sam's mouth, watching as lips opened and
teeth came out to bite down on fingertips. The pink tongue peeks out to lick,
but then goes back inside. “...christ, kid...” He slowly drops his head to push
against Sam's right shoulder. Now he's got two fantasies jumbling in his head
of how Sam tries to orgasm alone and each one seems to get him hornier than his
own imagination has. He tucks his face into collar and neck, slipping his arm
across Sam's chest to bring the pliant body partially under his. He gulps down
on a swallow, letting out a choked sigh. He turns his face into Dean's silky
hair.
“I don't like hearing how they'll breed you with other Omegas...”
Dean nudges against the throat, whimpering in agony. “...I hate the idea of you
being on display for all those other Alphas...like you're on some kind of
auction block, being sold to the highest bidder.”
Sam can't help chuckling.
“What?” Dean raises his head, brow wrinkling as he rests his left forearm
beside Sam's head.
“uh, nothin'...I haven't been having very good dreams since I learned exactly
how this breeding thing goes down for me—well, for Omegas.”
“Is it...? I imagine that it's not anymore sick and twisted than what I—we
Alphas—go through. I can choose to mate once, or choose to mate with up to
three during each breeding session. Don't know that it's fair to you—Omegas or
to Betas.”
“Don't know about Betas, but...no, Omegas kinda go with what the Alpha chooses
that breeding session.”
“You scared?”
“uh, yeah...hell yeah...you?”
“Not really. I'm mostly concerned for you.”
“Me? Wha—? Why?”
Dean drops his gaze, leaning his head on his left hand, his right hand smooths
over and down Sam's chest. “I guess I'm not willing to see you mated off or
bred like you're some priced filly. I really don't know how I'll be if you come
back here—if you're bred, not mated...and the 'pup' you carry needs to be
tended to.”
Sam frowns, his face showing signs of true fear. “Would you hate me if I
carried another Alpha's 'pup'?”
“heyheyhey...whoa...slow down...” Dean leans in to press lips against Sam's
face and rub down his ribcage. “Nothing is happening as of this moment. Just
calm down.”
Sam closes his eyes and wraps both arms tight about Dean. “I don't know what
I'd do if I lost you too. I'm already feeling like I'm not allowed back
home...an' Dad seems so keen on selling me out to make some fast cash. If I
lost you...I'm pretty sure my life'd be over once I had the 'pup'...”
“wait!...” Dean pushes away, bracing on both hands above Sam. “What's this now?
What about life being 'over' once you birthed a 'pup'?”
“They show us films, all to get us ready. They even show us births—natural and
in a delivery room...dude, that shit looks painful. Few Omegas ever bounce
back, especially the males. It's like a crapshoot, you know.” Sam shivers,
looking away. “I mean, what am I worth if I can only carry one 'pup' and my
Alpha no longer wants me? or...if I can't be bred out again? I think I'd rather
have an easy exit, not wither and die in loneliness...feeling useless and
unloved. If that's what I have to look forward to then...no, thanks. I'd rather
stay here with you.”
“With me? As what?”
“...huh?”
“You're not just gonna mate...ever? Make yourself suffer like I saw you do when
I entered this room?”
“Dean...” Sam opens his mouth, but then closes it as he angles his head to look
into the green eyes desperately looking down at him—wide and saddened. He
reaches out to clamp hands on Dean's arms squeezing in reassurance. “...you
just said so yourself that you didn't wanna see me bred out, so...clearly you
want thesamething I do...”
“mmm...clearly we don't have the same options open.”
“Wha—? What do you mean?”
==&&==&&==&&==
TBC
***** Chapter 2 *****
“Think 'bout it, huh...I'm an Alpha—-you're an Omega...we know each other—-we
get along...sometimes....is this not even on your radar?”
“You—? You wanna mate with me?” Sam hears his own voice go high and crack, but
his body starts to churn again, like it had before. That new vibe coursing
through him that took away all that fear and nervousness of mating with one
strange Alpha or several. They had told him he would know his true mate when
the time came: they said for some Omegas it happens early with being knotted,
for others it happens right when the knot fills them, making them whole. It
hadn't happened the first way for Sam and he was doubtful he would find it the
second way either.
“Why isthat even a question?”
“I don't know. Sometimes I wonder how you can stand taking care of me 'cuz
we're related. Being mated...Dean...tha's some serious relationship shit...”
“Dude! Do I look like I give a good god-damn?!”
“no...” Sam pushes Dean away to sit upright, sending his back against the
headboard. He crosses his arms like a defiant child. “Is it wrong of me to have
a fantasy? At least hope that the Alpha who chooses me, who I hopefully choose
as well...loves me and'll tend to me like I need...like I'll want.”
“You think it'd be any different from what I do to take care of you now? What
I've been doing since I knew what watching over my kid brother meant?”
“I'm not talking about that stuff. It's kinda why I wanna stay here with you,
'cuz I know you'll care for me, no matter what happens. I just...” Sam drops
his gaze to his lap, his hands fidgeting. “...the sex...knotting...what if
we—what if we aren't compatible that way? What if...I don't look attractive to
you or arouse you, or even...”
Dean grabs for Sam's hand, placing it on one of his thighs, close to the
inseam, near his crotch. “Go ahead and feel that, then tell me you don't
'arouse' me...”
Simply because he is curious, Sam bites his bottom lip, trailing his hand up
the denim to cup over the zippered portion. “...you're hot...kinda hard...” His
fingers dance lower. “Is that your knot?”
Dean keeps his gaze on Sam's face, though he hasn't looked at him once.
“...yeah...tha's my knot...” He bends forward, hands reaching out to caress the
side of the neck to lift the chin. “It's because of youthat it's that swollen.”
“Seriously?” Sam can't help but rub over the mound, as if to soothe its
possible painfulness.
“Dude...not a day's gone by since you went into this breeding heat thing that I
haven't gotten hard and wanted to knot you.”
“But you...you always seem fine. Always.” Sam takes his hand away only because
he's arousing himself, thinking about making someone—Dean—hard.
“Years of practice, but...today...don't know...today feels worse, ever since
you came home.”
“...confession time?”
“Another one?”
“This one might piss you off.”
“oh? Why?”
“See...there's this guy in one of my classes—Scotty McPhelps. He's 16...an
older Omega and he said he had these pills that would help me, uh...stave off
the urges.”
“Suppressants?”
“no...something different. Homemade.”
“dude...what did I tell you 'bout takin' drugs from strangers.”
“But I know Scotty. Since junior high. He's an ass, but...he's had two 'pups'
and he swears by these things.” Sam frowns, shaking his head. “But, I think he
sold me a dud...they just make me more, you know...like I want more, can't get
enough.”
“Otherwise, you're fine? You're not dizzy or vomiting? Pain in your stomach?”
“no, man...like I said, feels like it just amped my hormones or something.”
Dean shrugs, sighing as he swipes at his brow. “...christ, now you got me
curious...”
“I can't tell the difference because I usually go through several pairs of
underwear a day.”
“And now? How are you—what about now?”
“...huh?”
“Are you still dry or have you gotten wet again?”
“uh...I didn't put on my underwear.”
“...so you're naked under the towel?'
“yeah...” Sam tucks his legs in, trying to bend them, but the towel's too tight
and Dean's on his legs.
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Unwrap the towel and show me...”
“...my hole or...” Sam realized he's annoying Dean so he untucks the corner.
“okay, okay...just lemme cover my—”
“I've seen your dick before, Sam...it's not gonna scare or disgust
me...c'mon...” Dean crooks his finger, like he's seducing Sam to obey him.
Sam removes one flap of the towel, then places a hand over his junk, tugging
away the other flap of the material to then use both hands to hold his cock and
balls. He pulls them up to show the start of his hole, the perineum wet with
slick already. Sam's able to bend his knees now and he butterflies one knee out
to widen the view of his bottom.
Dean narrows his gaze, dipping his head at a tilt, then he reaches out to pat
the towel to feel the moisture. He takes two fingers, palpating the split's
start to rub over the hole. Sam hitches his next breath, one arm moving outward
to grab onto the pillows at his side. “...god...you're... beyond sensitive down
here.” He frowns like he's some type of medical expert. “I think he may have
sold you the wrong pill...these are jackin' you up to 11, huh?” Dean keeps
rubbing back and forth each time; he crawls toward Sam, fitting between his
spread thighs and along his covered genitals to almost lay chest to chest.
“...look at me as I'm touching you...” He whispers in hot breath to the sides
of Sam's face.
Sam closes his eyes, swallows and slowly twists his head back to face Dean
directly. “...ohgod...I think I'm gonna come...” he blinks slow, tilting his
head back to look at Dean under low lids. “...make me come.”
“I will...but not like this...” Dean plays around the puckered skin more,
dropping down to kiss neck and collarbone, then bites at the collar hem of the
t-shirt. “I want you complete naked...laying flat on your back.” He kisses a
random spot on Sam's chest, then reluctantly moves away to sit on the other
side of the bed, taking off socks, undoing his jeans and peeling off his briefs
and jeans in one flourish. He remains seated having drawn up his right leg,
bent. Dean tugs at the towel from under Sam's bottom while Sam rolls to his
side of the mattress, slowly taking off his t-shirt to watch Dean fold the
extra-large towel in half, then stands to pull back the rest of the comforter
and top sheet so the bed isn't unencumbered with the tangle of linens. He drops
the half-material down right where their bodies once had been and he taps his
hand down to show Sam where to place himself.
Sam crawls first, forgetting to hide his cock, so it dangles erect as he
adjusts himself on his back. As he's settling down, he's self conscious about
his size and how full his testicles have gotten, but Dean keeps batting away
his hands to the point where he almost pins the wrists down. “...sorry...”
“...don't be...no need to be shy either.” Dean slides onto the bed, forcing Sam
to bend his legs and plant his feet. He climbs to his knees, then drops to his
left side. He's managed to safely tuck away his own cock and his knot, unsure
if Sam could stand seeing them now. Dean sends out his right leg, bent and flat
to the mattress. Letting Sam rest the back of his right thigh on the shape;
Dean uses his calf and ankle to anchor Sam's right foot down. It's amazing how
tangled he can be with Sam now, how bendable and flexible the tall gangly frame
has become.
Dean starts out resting his left arm above Sam's head on his pillow, he clamps
his right on the inner thigh of Sam's right leg, soothing over the dark-haired
skin to ride up under the loose scrotal sac. He pushes his thumb right on the
perineum, cupping his whole hand under the bare bottom. “...which fingers?”
“...huh?” Sam had been too busy watch Dean to hear.
“Which fingers do you like to use?”
Just by simple touch, Sam arcs up, crying out softly as he feels the sensation
of pressure between his testicles and hole. “...uhhh...index and middle...” He
demonstrates for Dean, knowing his own fingers are longer than Dean's,
but...Dean's look thicker with blunt, almost square fingertips. Sam jolts at
the idea that this will feel way-more different than when he fingers himself.
Dean tests with one finger, the middle, letting it accidentally slip between
the crease, slowly riding up and down the split. “...take a deep breath for
me...” He leans in, head brushing the mussed, drying bangs. He bites down on
his own lips to tamp down his rising arousal. “...one finger to let you get the
feel of me, then I'll add a second.” He drops his hand, thumbnail scraping over
the temple and upper cheek. “...but I want you to keep lookin' at me,sammy...”
Wide hazel eyes slowly raise to his. “I need to see how much you can trust me,
how much I want this for you...how I want to be the only one to give it to
you...” He lifts a corner of his mouth in a smile. “...you can feel safe to let
go of me...”
Dean bends down to skim lips over a cheek, trickling down to meet jawline,
tracing along to chin. “...I want you to let me in...” His finger plays at the
closed hole that twitches at his touch. “...let me in, sammy.” Dean whispers
the words an inch from Sam's lips. “...push out for me...”
And just as he does, Dean's fingers slip inside, sliding easily along the
slicked walls. “...ohgod...” Sam rolls his body, arching his head back into the
pillow. “...s-s-sooo gooood...”
Dean leans down to press his head into the pillow. God...he had no idea it
would be like this. “...it's like you're on fire in there...you fuckin'
swallowed my finger whole...” He knows, for sure, he's not gonna last that
first time knotting Sam. He knows now that he's gotta make it count, if it
can't last. Dean pulls his fingers away with all his strength, then feels the
tension ease out of Sam's body. “...tha's it...tha's it... open up for me...try
to imagine these fingers areme...” And just as he says the plural word, he adds
that second one and plunges in. Sam jolts from the sensation, sending his right
arm up to push on Dean's chest, the hand forming a fist to pound or an open
hand to lay flat, while fingers dig nailbeds into flesh. Dean begins a slow
action of in and out, but after a while, it's Sam who continues to ride, then
widening his spread thighs and doing a downward upswing of his hips to catch
every feel of the fingers inside of him.
Sam can't find a comfortable position, he keeps wanting to move and shift, but
he knows what he really wants. He lolls his head around, eventually stopping to
look up at Dean with blissed-out eyes. “...more...I need more...”
“...you do? If you want more...it'd be silly to add a third finger when I could
just fuck you until you're ready to knot. Is that what you want?”
Sam closes his eyes, nodding his head. “...yeah...yes, I do...please, dean...”
He pushes his head as far back as it can go as he keeps thrusting, Dean slowly
pulling out his fingers covered in sticky slick. With there being nothing
filling him, but his body still wanting. Sam feels his thighs start to quiver
as he jerks once to feel his body expel a coating of lube to line his walls,
and he cries out on a groan to bear down, sending thick ooze out his widening
hole. “...ohgod...I came...Isocame...” He lets out a light laugh to turn his
head to look at Dean. But his brother isn't laughing, nor is he looking at
him—Dean is watching Sam's body, witnessing him coming...and Sam doesn't feel
ashamed or embarrassed because Dean looks...flummoxed.
“...jesus...did I make you do that?” Dean grabs the left hip and leans over to
kiss down the chest wall to reach the flat stomach. “...I wanna be in you—in
there so bad...I wanna feel that...” He slides over so he's niching between the
spread thighs. “...I have to get inside there and feel that around me...like I
always felt it should be...” Dean doesn't mean to seem impersonal or rude, but
he grabs both of Sam's hips and halls him down the bed to lift his legs from
the backs of his thighs. He settles the legs around his waist as he easily fits
himself against Sam's bottom. Hands braced on either side of the torso below,
Dean bends in nudging noses, then leaning his brow on Sam's forehead. “...hold
onto me...hold onto my arms...I can't guarantee you won't feel this...” His
cocktip pokes around, but then he reaches an exact aim and pulls back to thrust
in once to the hilt, as swollen knot meets gaping hole.
Same belts out a scream like a banshee, fists pounding on Dean's arms until he
goes still. “...ohgod!... tha's...more than I ever...” He gulps as he tries to
talk. “...you're so...I thought you'd be...you're so...thick—nnghhh...” Sam
moves a bit, trying to adjust on his own.
“...sammy, stop fidgeting...you'll make it worse...what'd I tell you 'bout
keepin' your eyes on me...”
“...sorry, sorry...” Sam smooths his hand up and down Dean flexing muscles.
“...you've been nothin' but kind...an' gentle...like you always are to me...”
He shuts his lids, heaving a huge sigh. “I'm still such an immature kid...”
Dean smirks with a squint of one eye. “...you sure aren't a 'kid' anymore...not
in my eyes...you're doing so good for me...now, just need you to open yourself
so I can start to move...”
“...there's more?”
Dean can't help but chuckle, lifting a hand to caress a flushed cheek.
“...there's so much more...puts your fingers to shame...”
“...afterthis...we'll be mates? You and I?”
Dean can only nod his head because he actually witnesses happiness dawn over
Sam's face. “...if you'll have me...”
Sam goes still and quiet. “You're giving me a choice?”
Dean leans down to nudge again, skimming his lips in soft kisses on skin.
“...with me, you always have a choice...always...”
“...oh, dean...” Sam never expects to have freedom as a mated Omega. But he
supposes if the Alpha he chooses is Dean, then he will get everything his
brother is to him now, and so much more.
Dean witnesses something else cross Sam's features—love. And he's not quite
sure he's even, literally, witnessed an actual emotion cross quite so
profoundly. His face is taken between those long-fingered huge palms, Sam leans
up to nip and breathe open-mouth as if tempting. Dean closes his eyes and gives
in, arms hooking high around his neck and shoulders and the body opens to ease
his thrusting. As lips connect and press in, Dean pulls out to push through
again, catching each of Sam's pants as his body takes the brunt of his
increasing tempo. It's not long before Sam can't keep his head steady, or
control the volume of his cries, so he has to tilt his head away or up, but
Dean is always there, kissing everything better.
Once he's found his rhythm, Sam joins in, fitting his counter-thrusting in
perfect tandem, every so often, he stops, bearing down to release another
splatter of lubrication, but the orgasms are timed with each massage of his
prostate, which has certainly given Sam an erection crying out for attention.
They both seem to have the same idea, their hands meeting around Sam's shaft,
then Sam floats his hands away to hold onto Dean's body. He's beginning to want
more, craving the knot and he's realizing it can't just be any knot...it has to
be Dean's.
Sam knew it. He knew that he hadn't been a knot-slut like his fantasies kept
telling him he was. He knows he can only mate once, with one Alpha. A perfect
fit. His one and his true. Of course it could only be Dean. No one else he
trusted, or loved, more.
Dean can detect it not only in Sam's face, but his body. The canal is loose and
slick, the hole is stretched and prepared, ready for the inevitable. “...I need
you, Sam...I need your body...need to take it to give you my seed...god...feel
like I'm gonna burst...” He bends low to kiss over the chest, licking and
nipping pert nipples.
Sam sighs in contentment. “I want you...I want you to take me...I want your
seed—wanna feel you fill me to bursting...want you to breed me...give me your
'pup'...promise I'll take care of it, an' you...like I'm supposed to...”
Dean furrows his brow as he slows down his hips. He's not stopping, he's
preparing to flip Sam over onto his stomach. “...you want to be bred...byme?”
Sam caresses the sides of Dean's face, fingers playing over parted lips.
“...there's no way I can repay you for the life you've given me...the way you
allow me to be...it'd be my honor to carry and raise your 'pups'.”
“...our'pups'.” Dean smirks, then winks, liking that they both imagine more
than one.
Sam is about to revel in the feel of Dean's shaft slip-sliding inside him, but
Dean pulls out swiftly to slowly turn Sam to lay on his stomach. “...oh, my...a
new position...” He giggles and tries to scoot up.
Dean drags him back down, pining him flat with his own body. “...it's my
favorite one...” He nudges the dark brown head, biting and nibbling at the nape
and shoulder. “...it's how you'll sense how my body really feels for you, since
you can't see my face.”
“...of course I can.” Sam proves this by being able to twist only his torso.
“...why, hello d'ere...I've knot seen you 'round here before...”
Dean can't help but laugh, though he wants to be serious and kind of seductive.
“...okay, no more puns for you...”
“oh, c'mon, Dean...whyknot?” Sam snickers, his whole body shaking. “Get it?
Why? Knot?”
“I get it...you goof-ball...now flip the fuck back over. I'm trying to work
some 'game' here.”
“Really!? Like...flirting withme?”
“Shut up. It's an Alpha-thing.”
“oh...do ya gotta do this every time?”
“no...just to win your affections, make your body crave me an' no one else.”
Sam rises to his right elbow. “...but what if I already do all that...” He
reaches up with his left hand to pet up Dean's chest, fingers tucking through
fine chest hairs. “...seems kinda dumb...”
Dean gently shoves Sam's face into the pillow. “...down, boy...I'm the Alpha
here...”
“...'kay, okay...” Sam puts up his hands, though they're flat to the bed.
“...uncle...”
“...god...you can be so infuriating sometimes.”
It's because of that frustrated tone that Sam actually thinks he's ruined the
moment. “...m'sorry...I swear, I'll behave...don't go...”
Dean furrows his brow, slipping off to the left side of Sam's body. “...m'not
leavin' you...I'm just—did you pay attention at all in class, when they played
this pack soft porn?”
Sam giggles-snorts, laying his head down. “...yes...and it was hardlyporn-
worthy. It was kind of boring...and clinical...”
“well...when we knot...your hole will stretch around me and retract once I'm
all the way in, unable to release me...we'll stay attached for, maybe, a few
minutes or, sometimes, a half-hour or more...”
“...but that depends on us, right? Like what our bodies do, feeling the other
swell and contract?”
“yeah...so...” Dean motions to where he put pillows and blankets. “I'm only
building us a 'nest' because first knots can be the longest...well, we may feel
the want, or need, to keep knotting.”
Sam lets out a small groan. “I'm gonna be sore, aren't I?”
Dean brushes over Sam's hair, grabbing the back of the nape. “...you won't be
alone in that department. I have a lot of...feelings pent-up inside me, wanting
to be let out...”
“For me?”
“yes...and the situation we're finding ourselves in, where I feel a desperation
to...make you more 'mine' than you've ever been before.” Dean starts to pet
down the back, smoothing over the bare ass. “...I'll probably fill you so full
of my come...it'll seep out of you...” He dances his fingers along the crack,
watching the bottom arc up to reach his hand. He kisses a shoulder, biting
softly. “...around my knot and drip down your thighs...”
Sam rolls toward Dean, nudging their heads. “...you're quite the talker,
Alpha...now why don't you get back there an' prove your words...”
Dean gnashes his teeth on the skin over Sam's shoulder, but he tenderly kisses
the cheek and the corner of the lips. “mmm...such a toppy Omega...nnnn, kinda
like that...” He kisses across shoulder blades, hands shaping down the long,
lean torso. He reaches the waist and pats one hip. “Roll onto your side for
me.” Once Sam does, Dean places a pillow down, then gestures for Sam to roll
back. He hovers a bit to heft Sam exactly where he wants him, how he wants his
knees spread out and bottom raised.
After all that adjusting and touching, the anticipation sends quivers through
Sam and as his ass is kept at a perfect height, he contracts his muscles and
releases another two globs of lube and his hole gapes wide, making a loud
squelching noise to push out ooze that runs out his rectum to drip onto the
towel under him.
“...god...that is so fuckin' hot, sammy...” Dean situates himself between the
spread thighs, numbly stroking himself only to look like he's busy. He's harder
than he's ever been, his knot swollen as far as he assumes he can get, before
he shoots. Now he's definite he won't last long inside that beautiful pink-hole
that keeps enticing him to enter. He poises his form along Sam's back, one hand
guiding his tip in, just at the loose stretch and as he controls his body
briefly, he puts his hands on either side of Sam's head, leaning down toward an
ear. “...you're gonna wanna grab onto me again...you'll feel me sink in, then
I'll push my knot through...I'll be inside you, but not all the way...I raised
your hips to comfort you, but also angles your body so I can get my cocktip
directly into your womb. That last one may hurt more than all the other
stuff...”
“...i's okay, Dean...” Sam latches to both of Dean's wrists. “...I trust you.”
It's the best comment Sam could've ever said to replace “love”, which gives him
the easier road to introduce the emotion. He nudges his face against Sam's.
“...love you...”
Sam jolts a little to hear the words, from someone who doesn't say it much.
“...love you right back...” He leans into Dean's hair and squeezes the wrists
hard to brace for impact.
“...just a warning...m'not gonna last...but I promise it'll be memorable...”
“...okay...”
Dean gives a small smile, pressing his forehead into Sam's upper back as he
takes a quick breathe, in and out, to prepare himself. He draws his hips back,
closes his eyes and turns his hands so his fingers thread Sam's. He jabs once,
testing the give, making Sam jolt and cry out, then he pulls away and slams in,
hard. Sam's squirming under him, trying to move upward with the force of the
thrust going into him, but Dean drops to hold him still.
“...don' move, don' move...please...I've got one more left in me, then I'll
shoot...”
“...ohgod...it feels—dean...deandeandeandean...”
“...ssshhh...you're doin' okay...jus' lay still, let me do the work...let your
body go...you'll be fine.” Dean braces his head on the back of Sam, pulling
backward to jaw hard, then up with a hurried flick of his hips and his cocktip
finding a way into the womb. “...ohgod...this is exactly what I thought—an'
more...”
“...dean...m'sorry...I'm gonna come...”
“...tha's good...comecome...come for me... I'll come with you...”
Sam begins to feel his thighs vibrate, the sensation draws up his body, making
his teeth chatter, and then he feels his inner hole expunge a load of thick
lube, his anal walls clenching tight. Dean arcs upward on a long, deep growl as
he not only shoots his load, but he's milked of everything inside his knot. He
wants to thrust, keep thrusting, but he can't move, feeling Sam so tight around
him like he's being drained of all life.
Sam starts to move, his ass pushing back, his muscles are loose again and he's
eager to feel the knot swell. “...more, dean...c'mon...I wanna do this
again...”
“jesus, kid...I'm nearly wiped out with that first one.”
“...uh, can I do something to help?”
Dean shimmies back, feeling his cocktip slip out of the womb. He begins to
thrust slow and steady, realizing Sam is clenching his muscles, even as he
rolls his hips back. “...ohgod...”
“...wha—? Want me to stop?”
“no, nah...keep goin'...I'm actually gettin' hard again...”
“...ohohohoh...deandean...your knot is swellin'...” Sam is trapped between a
pleasurable cry and a laugh. “...mygod...how does this thing fit me,
then...stay in...i's—exactly...what I needed...”
“I know...me too...funny, huh?'
“Not really, but I know what you meant.”
Dean readjusts the pillow, pulling Sam's ass higher into the air, then he jack-
hammers at a continual pace to shoot yet another, smaller load into the rectum.
He starts to feel Sam quake, so he angles his hips to jab upward and plunge
into the womb right about the time Sam's expelling another large amount of
lubrication and crying out from the intense release. As his prostate is
massaged by the added pressure, Sam rises off one hand to jerk himself to a
strained ejaculation with a string of stark white semen. He continues to shoot
as Dean slip-slides in and out, then he crumbles back down to the mattress,
pounding up into Dean's pelvis.
“...more?”
“...nnn-yeah...again...please, I need you...deandean...” Sam gulps down his
hurried breathes. “...alpha...my alpha...my mate...”
Dean slides his head down to lay against the side of Sam's face.
“...you'remine, sammy...mymate...myOmega...” He thrusts slow and long to
eventually increase his speed to a faster pace where he not only hears the
slapslapslap of their bodies, but the squishy-sound of the slip-slide plunge
into a wet hole full of semen, possibly about to overflow. He pulls backward to
thrust in and up, again hitting the exact spot of the womb and he feels Sam
shaking under him, releasing a final, steady stream of his seed; Sam clenches
around him and douses his entire length in a coating of thick lube.
Sam cries out, arching his back and thrusting against the swollen knot until
he's so exhausted he's burying his head under a stack of pillows, hands
clenched tight on the thin sheet under him.
Dean finally feels he has nothing left to give, but he keeps pushing into Sam
until both of them are calmed and strangely relaxed. He collapses on top of
Sam; Sam is plastered to the mattress, drained and sleepy. Dean rests his head
on Sam's shoulder, face turned to Sam who lays weary on his right cheek. Dean
reaches up to pet over, then finger-comb through the dried dark brown strands.
“...no doubt in my mind we're compatible in every way.”
Sam softly snickers, barely able to keep his lids open. “I think I'm
crashing...'cuz I hope this isn't how I'll normally react when we knot.” He
feels the rush of pleasure at the prospect of a future with Dean as his mate,
being able to repeat moments like this again and again. “I'd hate to miss out
on something good.”
Dean snorts and lays his cheek on Sam's shoulder blade. God...this body feels
incredible under him, around him. It feels weird to know this wasn't simply an
urge he had to give into, he actually feels this was meant to be. And no one,
not even John Winchester is going to fuck this up for him.
Sam is his. Sam has always been his alone to have and to keep.
Dean tightens an arm around, and under, Sam's chest. “...tell me when I'm too
much...we'll flip an' sleep on our sides...” There's a silence, then a soft
snore. Dean glances up and snickers. “...poor kid...” He places a soft kiss to
the flushed cheek, then he makes the decision on his own to roll them, so they
lay on their left sides, still tied together. Both arms around Sam, Dean pulls
him flush to his chest wall, reaching out to tug the covers up to keep them
warm from the chill that would soon set in. Dean looks around for a clock,
finding the digital read-out telling him he had, maybe, a few more hours before
their father came home.
He settles down on the pillow behind his brother's head, then he buries his
face away in the soft brown strands. Sam makes a noise under breath, shuffling
a little to lean more into Dean, then wraps his own arms tight about the strong
forearms holding him. Sam sighs in contentment, his body relaxing as he falls
into a deeper sleep.
Dean knows he'll stay half-awake the whole time, figuring out a way to explain
to his father that things were about to change around here, now that Sam was
his mate. John could hate him, if he wanted, but this was the way things were
going to be from now on. John could have that freedom of choice to stay or go.
For now, Dean is choosing to stay...especially if Sam starts carrying after
today.
Dean hides away a smile as he presses his face into Sam's nape and tries to
sleep. He's soothed by the occasional hand rubbing over his arms and hands,
always reassuring him that everything will be all right as long as they were
together.
Always.
 
...the end
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