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Entry tags:
Homecoming (Sam/Dean), NC17, Part 2 of 3
Title: Homecoming
Author:
Artist:
Genre: Wincest
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 29,150
Sam thought about it and thought about it and thought about. He couldn’t think about anything else, in fact, which meant that John noticed and started to give him shit about it.
“If your head’s not in the game, I can’t trust you to have my back,” his Dad said a week and a half later. They’d been on two hunts, both close enough that they could stay at the motel that had been their home base for a few months now. Neither of them had been badly hurt, but it had been a near thing on the last one as the ghost of a man who had been pretty awful even before he died nearly threw John off a roof while Sam was distracted.
“I know,” he admitted. Both of them had scrapes and bruises that they shouldn’t because Sam’s usually impressive focus was off a little.
“Whoever she is, get her outta your system, Sam.”
Sam didn’t try to deny it, and he left the she alone. The last thing he wanted was Dad trying to figure out who had him all turned around – especially since that someone was an omega.
Staying away from Dean didn’t seem to be making things better, so Sam played some dirty pool two nights in a row and put his winnings in his pocket to head into town.
He got lucky right away; Dean hadn’t picked up a customer yet. He was on his customary corner, his fellow sex workers all spread out at a discreet distance so none of them interfered with each other’s business. Sam paused a little distance away and just let himself look.
The weather was warmer than it had been the first time he’d encountered Dean, and Dean had on fewer clothes as a result. Or more accurately, smaller clothes. His tee shirt was cut off to expose flat stomach and muscled abs, his jeans cut into shorts that Sam knew had to be barely keeping his junk covered. They were low slung, far enough below his belly button to show the happy trail that drew Sam’s (and everyone’s) eye downward, to the slight bulge of what was waiting. Just to make his legs look even hotter and somehow more decadent, Dean still had his boots on, the laces undone at the top seeming to suggest that he was ready to just kick them off to get out of his pants. Sam hadn’t had much chance to really appreciate Dean’s legs before, but he did now. Either he shaved them or he just naturally didn’t have much hair; his legs were smooth and long, his thighs muscular and his calves sculpted by lots of walking and standing or lots of working out. Or lots of athletic sex, Sam thought, and grimaced. Imagining Dean having sex with another man made Sam instantly angry.
Sam took a deep breath and forced his fists to unclench. Rage had gotten him into trouble with Dean last time; he had to keep a cool head if he wanted to take Dean to bed. Even more, if he wanted Dean to actually like him. Sam wanted to roll his eyes at himself for that last thought, but he also couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel that way. He’d done a lot of thinking in the past two weeks, and he couldn’t deny that he didn’t just want to fuck Dean – he wanted to know Dean. It was stupid, and probably impossible, and definitely a terrible idea, but Sam wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
Dean turned his head as soon as Sam started walking. He didn’t move, still leaning up against the brick building in that provocative pose that advertised to all the world what he was selling and how good he’d make it for you, but his eyes narrowed when they locked to Sam’s.
“Hey,” Sam said in what he hoped was a casual way.
Dean didn’t answer for a few seconds, and Sam’s heart began to beat too fast with anxiety. Was Dean still pissed? Would he say no and wait for the next customer, who would almost surely be appearing at any moment?
Finally he nodded back. “Hey, Sam.”
A rush of gratitude made Sam blush; he could feel his cheeks heat. Dean remembered his name. Oh god, I’m like a middle schooler, all a flutter because he remembered your name. You’re an alpha, for godsakes, get a grip.
Dean smiled like he knew exactly what Sam was thinking.
“I uh, I was able to bring $200 if you’re willing to – to do what we did last time.”
Dean bit his lip and paused again, and Sam swallowed hard, waiting.
“You wanna use a little of that to buy us some breakfast?”
It was so entirely unexpected – and so exactly what Sam had fantasized about – that his mouth dropped open.
“I – you – you’d eat with me?”
Dean outright laughed at that, and Sam blushed harder. Somehow this omega man made Sam feel like the tables were turned and he was the omega unable to control himself.
“It’s not standard practice,” Dean admitted, “And if you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I don’t think we should fuck again, and I wanna explain why. Plus I’m starving.”
Sam tried to hide how crestfallen he felt, how crushing the disappointment of knowing he wasn’t going to be able to have Dean again was. At the same time, he apparently really did want to get to know this guy, because even without the hope of more mindblowing sex, he wanted the breakfast conversation.
“Okay, sure – I mean, no, I’d love to have breakfast with you, I’d love to get to know you. We don’t have to have sex.”
Dean’s eyes twinkled the way they did when he was genuinely amused. “I didn’t say we couldn’t have sex, I just said maybe we shouldn’t fuck.”
“Oh!” Sam couldn’t keep the relief and elation out of his voice, but Dean didn’t seem to mind.
“Sex, it’s kinda what I do,” Dean added, “But it’s sweet that you were up for breakfast even if it was just talking. I don’t get that reaction very often. Especially not from an alpha.”
Dean probably didn’t know what a wonderful compliment that was, but Sam drank it in, warm all over from Dean’s words.
They went to the Red Roof Diner across the street from the bar, and Dean ordered a ham and cheese omelet with a side of bacon and sourdough toast with jam and a large OJ along with his black coffee, and Sam wondered how he stayed so thin if that’s how he liked to eat. Omegas weren’t known for their big appetites.
“Wow,” he said before he could think better of it.
Dean cocked an eyebrow. “What? You worried about the money or wondering how I keep my girlish figure?”
“Neither. Just impressed with your appetite.”
“Oh baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Dean answered, and winked.
Sam shifted on the fake leather seat of the booth they’d been seated at. Dean smirked.
“You’re so easy,” he said, and dug into his omelet.
It was true. Sam had never ever thought of himself as easy, but with Dean? He was. He was fairly certain that was a serious problem but couldn’t bring himself to care right now.
“Will you tell me a little about your life?” Sam asked when they were both more than halfway through their substantial breakfasts. “Like when you were a kid, how you ended up here -- you know, whatever?”
Dean finished off the strip of bacon he’d started and shrugged. “Not much to tell. Raised in foster homes, most of ‘em horrible. Omega kids tend to get placed in homes that aren’t approved for alphas and betas, so let’s just say they’re not the most… loving… families.”
Sam’s stomach dropped. He put down his fork, suddenly not very hungry.
“Why do they do it then?”
Dean snorted. “Money mostly. Take in a half dozen omega kids, you can make a fair amount of money. Specially if you don’t feed ‘em much or buy them clothes or toys or whatever. I never lasted too long in any one place.”
“Why?” Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.
Dean shrugged again. “Not a very good kid. I was pissed all the time, couldn’t bring myself to do what the parents wanted. Beatings never worked on me as well as they did on most omega kids, I guess.”
Sam’s stomach turned. His question about Dean’s childhood had been a naïve one, he now realized. How stupid of him to think he was going to get a story about teddy bears and bedtime stories. Hell, Sam hadn’t even had much of that himself. He couldn’t remember much about his early childhood, but he was pretty sure most of it had sucked once his mother was gone.
“Why were you in foster care? What happened to your family?”
Dean looked down. He ran his fork through the remains of his omelet, then let it clatter down to the plate. “They didn’t want an omega kid. Soon as it was clear I was gonna be one, they got rid of me.”
Sam knew that happened, of course. Omegas were so devalued and subject to so much stigma that some families just couldn’t face raising one. If they had an alpha child, that child took precedence – and many did not want an alpha and omega raised together. Even if they were siblings, often the biological urges were too strong and that was…complicated. So of course it was the omega child who was rejected. Somehow Sam just hadn’t thought about that happening to Dean.
His fists clenched under the table, though he kept himself calm with effort. What Sam really wanted to do was find Dean’s family and beat the shit out of them for hurting him – because for the first time, emotion crossed Dean’s face that wasn’t anger or seductiveness. It was sadness, and it made Sam enraged.
“That really sucks,” he said finally. Dean shook his head, shaking off the fleeting glimpse of real emotion too.
“It was a long time ago. Besides, it happens to omegas all the time. Not that that makes it okay, it’s fucking not okay, but I’m far from the only one.”
“I know,” Sam said, “But it still sucks. So you said your foster families, they beat you? Jesus,”
Dean looked up and met Sam’s eyes. “You really wanna hear this? It’s not exactly good foreplay, if you know what I mean.”
Sam didn’t hesitate. “I do. Please. What did they – what did they do to you?”
“Beat me, starved me, forced me… you name it. Some of them were pretty creative actually. The people who take in omega kids, they do it for a reason. CPS ain’t gonna come after ‘em if a twelve year old can’t sit down comfortably in school or has cigarette burns on his arms. Not for an omega kid.”
“Shit,” Sam swore. He slid his plate across the table, not even wanting to look at food. “I’m such an idiot, I should have realized. I haven’t known many omegas, I guess.”
As soon as he said it, Sam realized how true that was. John didn’t like them, didn’t trust them. He’d always warned Sam to stay away, not to get pulled into an omega’s orbit because then it was hard to get out. It turned out Dad had probably been right all along.
Dean was looking at him intently. “Most alphas don’t. Unless they’re bonded, of course. But that’s not always a very good deal for the omega either. Not exactly an equal partnership, if you know what I mean.”
Sam thought about his parents. He didn’t really remember much about when his Mom was alive, but he thought it had probably been okay. Better than most. Certainly Mary’s death had gutted his Dad, set him on a quest for revenge that had become Sam’s quest too. She was important to him, of that Sam was sure.
“I’m happy to be on my own,” Dean added, and drank the rest of his coffee.
“That makes sense.”
“So, you?”
“Me, what?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I told you mine, you tell me yours. Don’t you know how these games work, Sammy?”
Sam grinned at the unexpected endearment. Dean actually wanted to know something about him? Too bad there wasn’t much he could say.
“Well, it’s just me and my Dad. We’re in business together. Takes us all over the US, so we get to see a lot of the country. Don’t make a lot of money, but it’s enough to survive.”
Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Man of mystery, huh?”
Sam felt himself blush a little. “No, it’s just – there’s not much to tell.”
“You don’t go to college then, smart guy like you?”
Sam shook his head, the heartfelt words of a high school English teacher ringing in his ears. You’re smart, Sam. You could be something. They’re offering you a free ride, Sam.
“Nah. My Dad was against it, wanted me to join up with him in the family business.”
Dean considered. “But you wanted to.”
Sam thought about lying, but for some reason he wanted to tell Dean the truth. At least as much as he was able. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I did.”
Dean nodded, waiting for Sam to go on. Instead he voiced the thought that was still making loops in his brain.
“You got a shit deal out of life. I’m sorry.”
“I was one of the lucky ones,” Dean said, going back to finishing his breakfast like it was no big deal. “I was strong already, my dad always wanted us to be fit. I could fight, when most of them couldn’t. It’s been….helpful.”
“Still?” Sam asked. “Now?”
Dean frowned. “You wanna know if it keeps me safe, doing this kind of work.”
Sam started to answer, but Dean waved him to be quiet.
“You wanna know why I do this – if I’m strong enough to do something else.”
Sam couldn’t deny it. Dean could be so many other things – he was strong, he was clearly smart.
“It’s not that easy, Sam. I’m not gonna get too pissy with you because the world is just different for alphas, so why would you know? But it’s not that easy. Even in this state – and it’s not the worst by a long shot – there are mandatory employment tests. Omegas can’t fly under the radar. We’re considered too distracting to be on the job with other people. Especially…”
“Alphas,” Sam finished.
“It’s pretty clear who the group in power is, right?”
Dean raised an eyebrow. It looked like he was daring Sam to tell him he’d gone too far.
“Yeah, it’s pretty clear. And pretty easy for that group not to look at it too hard.”
“So you’re not just a pretty face and a hot alpha body,” Dean said, corner of his mouth pulling up.
“Well, there’s that.”
Dean nodded, then went on. “I make a good living,” he said, taking another bite of omelet. “I don’t answer to anyone, I work when I want, nobody is the boss of me but me. It’s no more dangerous than any other way of life for an omega.”
Sam didn’t argue.
They ate in silence for a few minutes until Dean put his fork down. He bumped Sam’s foot with his own under the table, then slowly slid his boot up Sam’s calf. Sam blushed, shifting on the seat as his pants tightened.
“So we should talk about what you asked for earlier,” he said, though Sam had a hard time focusing on the words while the toe of Dean’s boot made it up to the bend of his knee.
“Don’t think I can form coherent sentences if you’re gonna do that.”
Dean laughed again. He looked young when he laughed, carefree. Not like he’d been kicked out of his house and surviving what sounded like hell for the past…
“How old are you?” Sam asked abruptly. Dean looked eighteen, but Sam realized he wasn’t sure.
“Random. I usually lie when I get asked that question, but okay. I’m 24.” Dean said, and regarded Sam for a moment. “And you’re like…eighteen, right?”
Sam puffed out his chest without meaning to. “I’m twenty.”
“Oh excuse me, my mistake. All grown up.”
Sam really liked the way Dean looked when he was teasing. His eyes sparkled, looking even more ridiculously green than usual.
“Grown up enough,” Sam answered, and he let his voice deepen to its alpha growl.
The effect was instantaneous. Dean’s lashes fluttered as he blinked, and his lips parted on a sudden inhale. Sam could see the tips of his ears go pink, and a blush spread across his freckled cheeks.
“Fuck,” Dean swore, and shifted on the seat as uncomfortably as Sam had earlier. Sam couldn’t help but feel smug.
“Sorry.”
“You’re not. But that’s okay, I’m really not either. And that’s why I don’t think it’s a good idea to do what you suggested earlier.”
Sam wasn’t sure if Dean’s obvious physiological response was making all the blood drain from Sam’s brain (it was) but that didn’t seem to make sense.
“But I don’t – if we both want it – I mean, hell, it was good. It was fucking amazing, wasn’t it? I mean, it was for me.”
“It was. And that’s the problem. This is a job, Sam. I can’t be letting myself get all out of control like that. I don’t know what it is about you, but I take the best suppressants that exist and they work about 99.999% of the time. I don’t get heats, I don’t lose it like that. I don’t know what happens to me with you, but if we fuck I can tell it’s gonna happen again. And I just can’t let it.”
Dean was looking at him pleadingly, like it was important to him that Sam understand.
“I get it,” Sam said finally, though what he really wanted to do was try to argue Dean out of it. “I don’t let myself get like that either – I hate losing control like that. I hate who I become when I’m like that. I hate all that rough-you-up and take what I want alpha bullshit. It’s never happened to me quite like that though, like it did with you. I’m sorry, I really lost it, I know.”
Dean looked surprised. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“I’m not trying to make it like oh poor me,” Sam was quick to say. “I’m an alpha, I know all kinds of privilege comes with that. I’m just saying that I don’t like that feeling, I don’t like being out of control. You can’t protect yourself when you’re not in control, and you never know…”
“Agreed,” Dean said, and nudged Sam’s leg under the table again. “I think we can probably both get through a blow job without losing control though, if you’re still determined to spend that money burning a hole in your pocket.”
Sam reached down and grabbed Dean’s foot, moved it up between his legs and nudged the toe against his crotch where his cock was agreeing with the suggestion. Dean startled, almost sliding off the seat in the process, and pulled his foot away.
“Asshole,” he said, but he was smirking.
They didn’t exactly take their time walking to the hotel, but they didn’t run either. Sam let himself enjoy the anticipation. Every time he snuck a glance at Dean, he found him looking back. The night was warm, and Sam could see a thin sheen of sweat on the small of Dean’s back where it was bare between his half shirt and his low-slung shorts as Dean sauntered through the lobby doors before him. Sam hung back as they made their way to the room, watching the subtle sway of Dean’s hips and the way his strong thighs were slightly bowed. By the time they got to the room, Sam was aching in his jeans.
He let Dean set the pace this time, though, thinking about their conversation about control – and about how little of that Dean had had over the course of his life. Dean pushed him up against the bare wall and lifted Sam’s shirt; Sam raised his hands and let Dean slip it over his head. When Sam could see again, Dean was right there, so close that Sam could see every soft spike of hair, the thickness of his lashes, the sprinkle of freckles across his nose.
“Hey,” he said, and caught Dean under the chin with one hand. Dean raised his head, and Sam pulled him a fraction closer. “Can I kiss you? Is that okay?”
Dean’s eyes were dark; the lashes gave that telltale flutter that told Sam his words had had an impact.
For a moment, Sam thought the answer was no. Then Dean stretched up the last few inches and brought their mouths together.
It was stupid how that kiss felt. They’d fucked already, they’d sucked each other’s dicks, they’d been naked and wanton and out of control. But that simple press of lips felt better than all the physical pleasure Sam had felt before; he groaned because he couldn’t help it, slipping his tongue between Dean’s open lips and deepening the kiss. Dean moaned in response, pressed his whole body into Sam’s so they were touching everywhere, chests and hips and thighs and Sam’s hand around Dean’s neck to keep him there.
Sam tried to keep it slow, let Dean keep setting the pace. He could feel Dean’s erection grind against his own as they moved, both of them pushing into the kiss. Dean had both hands wrapped around Sam’s back, nails scritch-scratching over the bare skin and tracing the muscles. He nipped at Sam’s tongue, sucked on it in a rhythm that left no doubt what he would soon be doing to Sam’s dick. Sam’s other hand snaked down Dean’s back, dipped beneath the waist of his shorts between his cheeks and he could feel Dean shudder, full body shiver. He moved his hand to Dean’s waist instead, ignoring how badly his fingers wanted to find the place where he knew Dean would be hot and maybe slick.
Dean broke their kiss and pulled back just slightly.
“Took extra suppressants, just in case,” he said, but his body was still moving, hips pushing restlessly against Sam’s.
“Whatever you want,” Sam assured, and held himself still until Dean went up on his toes and kissed him again.
“Want you,” Dean murmured against his lips, and the words made Sam’s dick leap in his jeans. Dean’s hands were there then, skilled and quick at his zipper, tugging his pants and shorts low on his hips and pulling him out. Dean dropped gracefully to his knees and planted more kisses, this time not to Sam’s mouth, and Sam groaned again at the feel of those full lips sliding over him.
Dean teased him only a little, seemed to sense that Sam was too wound up to be able to wait too long. He looked up at Sam with hooded eyes as he took him all the way in, as far as was humanly possible, swirling his tongue as he stroked the rest of Sam with one hand. It was blissful, being able to watch Dean do this while the pleasure deepened and intensified, little by little like Dean was winding him up inch by agonizing inch, always stopping just short of his climax.
“Please ohgod,” Sam begged, and he could tell Dean got off on that, sucking even more eagerly. Sam tangled his hands in Dean’s short hair, tugging on the strands that were long enough, his hips rocking against Dean’s face. “Please need to, need to, god,” Sam pleaded, because it felt like if he didn’t come he was going to explode. He was vaguely aware that he could smell Dean – sweat and sex and the dark sweet moist scent that made Sam’s thighs start to shake uncontrollably. “Fuck Dean, fuck, you can’t – I can’t.”
Sam took his hands off Dean’s head and slapped them flat against the wall, trying to anchor himself so he didn’t do something he would regret. Dean’s free hand was clenched around Sam’s hip, holding him pinned to the wall, fingers digging in so roughly that he was piercing the skin. The little burst of pain only aroused Sam more; still he kept himself upright and his hands to himself, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that he’d climax before he lost control again.
Sam could feel his knot starting to swell, and Dean let go of him when he felt it too, grabbing his own cock through his shorts, squeezing himself desperately then slipping his hand down the front of his pants to jerk himself in rhythm with what he was doing to Sam with his mouth.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam chanted to himself, or maybe to Dean, trying to convince them both that everything was under control. He was dizzy with the smells in the room, overheated, his own sweat running in rivulets down his temples, along the planes of his bare chest.
Suddenly Dean released him and fell backwards, scrambling across the floor and kicking free of his shorts.
“Fuck it, goddamn it, fuck it all!” he yelled, his voice wrecked from having Sam’s big dick rammed down his throat for the past twenty minutes.
Sam just stood there, naked and dripping and achingly hard, staring.
Dean ripped his shirt over his head and kicked his last remaining boot across the floor.
“Don’t just stand there,” he ordered, face flushed the same pink as his nipples that Sam’s eyes had locked to. “Come over here and fuck me!”
Sam had the presence of mind to say “I thought you didn’t want to” before Dean grabbed him by the dick and tugged him the few feet to the bed.
Dean sprawled backwards, legs spread wide so that Sam fell between them. Sam was too far gone to even help much, still trying frantically to keep his wits about him and not do something that Dean didn’t want. With Dean’s hands pushing and pulling him, he could feel Dean’s strength acutely, and he let himself be manhandled into position. Dean’s hands guided him inside, and they both moaned as Sam sunk into the tight slick heat of him.
It was bliss, just like the first time, but better because this time they could see each other. Dean kept his eyes open as Sam pushed in deep, let Sam see the intense pleasure that brought him as his mouth fell open and he panted hard, every new inch bringing a gasp and making Dean’s breathing go stuttered. Sam watched, transfixed, as Dean’s body took him in, until he was in all the way and Dean looked at him with something like amazement, his eyes wide and dark.
“Fuck,” Dean whispered, his voice rough. “Never felt anything better than you inside me.”
An involuntary shudder hit Sam with those words, his whole body quivering, so hard his teeth chattered with it. “Dean,” he choked out, feeling his knot swell even bigger. He bent his head to Dean’s chest, licked over his pointed nipples, then took one in his mouth and suckled. Dean drew in a pained breath, held it as Sam went from one nipple to the other, nipping and sucking them red and sore.
“Ohgod yes,” Dean whimpered, and Sam pulled up to look at him. “Dean”, Sam said again, and Dean’s eyes rolled up in his head as he came just like that, his cock trapped between their stomachs and pulsing between them.
Dean’s thighs clenched around his hips so hard Sam thought there’d be bruises there, dug his fingers into Sam’s back until his nails made Sam bleed, and Sam welcomed it all.
“Shit, fuck, did you just?” Sam managed, and then he was coming too, his body convulsing with the bursts of pleasure.
He didn’t realize for another twenty minutes that they didn’t use a condom.
“Shit,” Sam swore, irrationally trying to disengage himself from Dean like it wasn’t already way too late.
“Ow,” Dean complained, and smacked Sam on the chest. They’d rolled halfway to their sides, Dean’s legs still wrapped around Sam’s hips.
“We didn’t use a condom,” Sam said, and watched Dean open his eyes.
“What? But I never…. Oh shit.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Dean sighed, shifted so that Sam was on his back and Dean was on top. “My leg’s asleep. Your turn to be on the bottom.”
“Are you mad?”
Dean rested his forehead on Sam’s shoulder. “At who, myself?”
A little spark of hope that Dean didn’t hate him went rushing warm through Sam’s chest. “At me, I should have realized.”
Dean spoke against Sam’s chest. “Yeah, me too. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Our brains don’t work for shit when we do this.”
Sam tentatively ran a hand down Dean’s back, through the half-dried sweat there.
“Seems that way,” he admitted.
Sam’s brain went off into a detour it shouldn’t, thinking about what would happen if Dean were by some miracle pregnant. He’d have to quit hunting. He’d have to leave Dad, stay with Dean. Dean would have to give up hooking. The fantasy wasn’t exactly a bad one.
“I was on a lot of suppressants, it’s probably fine,” Dean was saying.
Sam’s hand had slid lower, down to where their bodies were still joined. Dean shifted as he felt it.
“Sam,” he said, a warning.
Sam pulled his hand away.
A few minutes later, Dean managed to disengage himself, climbing off with shaky legs. They were both a mess.
“Aw Jesus,” Dean complained as he walked awkwardly to the bathroom. Sam stared at the trickles of fluid between his thighs and tried hard to regret it.
Dean tossed a damp washcloth at him from the bathroom.
“Thanks.” Sam was cleaned off and dressed when Dean came out, still gorgeously naked. Sam eyed him up and down appreciatively.
Dean swept the money off the table like he always did and put it in the pocket of his shorts before pulling them back on. This was the awkward part, the part where Sam abruptly remembered that they weren’t friends and they weren’t lovers; he was a customer.
Dean sat down on the bed still shirtless. His nipples were still red and a little swollen from all Sam’s attention. That knowledge made Sam’s stomach flutter even if he was still too sated to actually get excited.
“Are you gonna tell me I can’t see you again?”
Dean looked over and paused, then shook his head. To Sam’s look of relief, he rolled his eyes. “But maybe I’m gonna make you come find me with a condom already rolled on that monster dick of yours next time.”
Sam grinned. “I can do that.”
Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair impatiently. “I just don’t know what it is about you. I never get irresponsible like this, never. I just….I don’t know. And honestly? I don’t know if I love it or hate it.”
“Well, uh, you seem to love it,” Sam pointed out.
Dean scowled. “Not the sex, idiot. Clearly we both love the sex. I meant the other stuff.”
Sam probably liked it more than he should, but he decided not to admit that to Dean. “Yeah,” he agreed. “This has never happened to me before either”. That part was true.
Dean bent to put on his boots and pulled his half shirt over his head. “We should go. Time’s up and I gotta get back to work.”
Like always, that stung. Sam gulped his emotions back with effort.
“I’ve got a job out of town for the next few days. See you next week?”
Dean nodded and headed for the door. As he stepped through into the hallway, Sam called after him.
“Hey Dean – be safe out there.”
Dean turned back, gave Sam a half smile. “You too, Sam."
* * *
One week turned to two, then to three, then to four. John drove them all the way to Iowa, then south to Indiana, insisting that he had a lead on the monster that had killed Sam’s mother.
If Sam had thought another visit with Dean would “get it out of his system” he had been one hundred percent horribly entirely wrong. Long hours in the car, Sam did nothing but think of Dean. He replayed every moment they’d had together, daydreams of the way Dean’s eyes sparkled when he laughed quickly turning to images of Dean’s lips stretched around his cock, the sound of Dean’s half stifled gasps and whimpers when Sam sucked a tender nipple.
“Cut it out, Sam,” his dad complained, wrinkling his nose. “I can smell you from here.”
Sam had the decency to blush. It was true, he’d been constantly horny ever since they’d left Brigantine. It was like his body had a mind of its own, and all it wanted to do was get back to Dean, get up on him and up in him and make love to him again.
“Sorry.”
“It’s an omega, isn’t it?”
Sam sat up straighter, fantasies forgotten. He felt instantly on alert, certain that something was threatening Dean. It was irrational, but he couldn’t shake it.
“I’m twenty years old, Dad, it’s just – look, it’s nothing, okay? It’s no one.”
“Bullshit,” John said, and Sam could smell his father’s anger. “I told you to stay away from them, Sam. Didn’t I tell you that? This kinda infatuation, it only happens with an omega. Is she back in Brigantine? Is it that girl from the whorehouse for godsakes?”
“Eww, no. The girl you slept with? I don’t need your sloppy seconds, Dad.”
John’s face went red with rage, and Sam watched his knuckles go white on the wheel.
“Don’t cross me, boy,” John ordered. “I can still whup you if I need to.”
Sam forced himself silent. He was fairly certain that wasn’t true, but it had happened often enough in the past that he didn’t want to test that theory. Instead he lied.
“It was another girl, and yeah, she was an omega. And yeah, you were probably right, I shouldn’t have. I won’t go back, not to her. She’s too expensive anyway.”
The extra little bit of information sold it for John. He reached over and patted Sam’s knee in a rare moment of affection.
“Good boy. Look, I get it, there ain’t nothin’ more compelling than a ripe omega. But it makes you soft in the head, makes you do stupid things. We can’t be around ‘em, us alphas. It’s better that way.”
Sam didn’t say but you just slept with one yourself a month ago, or but you married one twenty some years ago. He popped an old cassette tape in the player, let the classic rock drown out thoughts of Dean, determined to keep him safe.
He even made himself wait until John went out first to go into town once they returned to Brigantine, until the rumble of Dad’s Impala had faded before he started up his own ancient pickup truck. Dean wasn’t on the corner when he got there and Sam couldn’t stand to just wait around; he approached one of Dean’s co-workers a block away. She was a pretty girl, clearly a beta.
“Hey,” she said, batting her eyelashes as he approached.
“Oh hey, sorry, I’m looking for someone else. Dean?”
The girl snorted. “Of course you are. He gets all the great looking guys. He’s not working tonight though.”
That brought Sam up short. “He’s not working?” he repeated, confused.
She nodded. “That’s what I said. So either pick a second best or come back another time.”
“I can’t,” Sam said without thinking. “Please, I have to see him, it’s been weeks and I said I’d be back weeks ago and I don’t have any way of contacting him – please. I know this is weird, I know I’m just a – a client. But I just – can you at least get a message to him? Here, I’ll write down my cell number.”
He scribbled his name and number on the back of a scrap of paper in his wallet and handed it to her. She raised an eyebrow but put it in her pocket.
“I just wanna let him know….I just wanna know he’s okay,” Sam corrected. He turned to walk away, but the girl called after him.
“Hey, hold on. You’re Sam?”
He nodded.
The girl bit her lip. “He’s gonna kill me for this, but he talks about you – he wondered where you disappeared to. And right now he’s…. well he’s not doin’ that well. Maybe you…”
“He’s what? What happened? Where is he?” Sam found himself crowding into the girl without meaning to, and forced himself to back up. “Please, please can you just tell me?”
The girl turned over the scrap of paper and wrote an address. “Tell him he’s not allowed to kill me,” she said, but Sam was already running.
The building where Dean lived was five blocks away and Sam didn’t slow down until he realized he was at the address. It was, predictably since it was in the same neighborhood as the bar and the hotel and the street corners teeming with sex workers, not the nicest place. Of course Sam had never had a home at all for the past fifteen years, so no judgment. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked on Apartment B12 on the second floor.
“It’s open Benny, don’t knock it the fuck down,” came Dean’s voice from inside, and Sam was flooded with a relief so strong that it made him weak. He burst through the door and almost tripped over a squalling cat.
Yeowww said the cat, as Sam did an impromptu dance to keep his footing.
“Sam? What the fuck?”
Dean was lying on a couch that had seen better days. When he sat up, Sam could see that he had two black eyes and his face was swollen and discolored.
“What the hell happened?” Sam demanded, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of the couch. Dean just gaped at him.
“What are you doing here?”
Sam reached out to touch Dean’s cheek, but he flinched away. “Sam, how did you find me? Why are you here?”
“I sort of begged it out of one of your friends. I was worried, and I thought you might be worried, I mean I guess that’s stupid, why would you worry about me, but then she said you weren’t doing that well and I just…”
“Goddamn Lisa,” Dean swore, and flopped back down on the couch. “She’s got a big mouth.”
“What happened to you? Who did this?”
Sam’s alpha instincts were all stirring at once. He wanted to find the person who had hurt Dean and rip them apart. Literally.
“Nobody,” Dean answered, crossing his arms stubbornly across his chest. “Just a john, Sam. Nobody. An asshole who gets off on beating the shit out of omegas. Specially guys.”
“Tell me who he is. Tell me where to find him.” Sam tried to keep his tone even, but even he could hear the undercurrent of violent rage that was threatening to seep out.
“Shit no. I can smell the alpha pheromones comin’ off of you like crazy right now – no way are you goin’ after some Fortune 500 sicko who might come after you in return.”
“I think I can take some douche businessman,” Sam retorted.
Dean opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Sam then, a hint of a smile on his still-swollen and split lip. “I have no doubt, but there are worse things than a beat-down. Just leave it, Sam.”
Sam forced himself to calm down. The last thing he needed was to end up in jail and have Dad come to bail him out, only to find out he was defending the honor of the omega sex worker that he was obsessed with.
“So where’ve you been?”
Sam met Dean’s eyes, trying to figure out if Dean had really noticed his absence. “My dad and I had a couple jobs over in Iowa and Indiana. You miss me?”
Dean snorted. “Missed your hundred dollar bills.”
Sam looked down so Dean wouldn’t see the hurt he couldn’t quite stifle. What an idiot he was, falling for a prostitute.
Dean’s hand twining through his hair made him look back up.
“Nah, I didn’t mean that. Yeah, I missed you. Thought you’d skipped town without even sayin’ bye.”
Dean pushed a strand of Sam’s hair behind his ear. It gave Sam goosebumps.
“So you’re not – last time, when we – you’re not…”
Dean made a face. “Pregnant? No Sam, no kids in there.”
He patted his flat stomach.
Sam felt a momentary pang of regret, then reminded himself to be grateful.
“What can I do for you? Maybe some ice for your face?”
“Yeah, not so pretty now, am I?”
Sam picked up one of Dean’s hands and held it in his own. “Still pretty.”
“Fuckin’ terrible liar,” Dean said, but he smiled. “Yeah, I guess ice would be good.”
Sam stayed as long as he dared. He held an ice pack to Dean’s cheek, then cooked a can of chicken noodle soup that he found in the cupboard and propped Dean up with pillows so he could eat it. Dean rolled his eyes a lot but he also ate the entire bowl, so Sam considered that a win. They watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy and part of Fresh Off The Boat because that came on next, and Dean’s eyes slipped closed. Sam watched him sleep for a few minutes, the rise and fall of his chest and the soft snores.
He made enough noise when he got up to let Dean know he was leaving.
“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Sam said, and leaned over to kiss Dean’s forehead.
Dean reached up to grab his hand, squeezing his fingers. “Thanks, Sammy,” he said, and closed his eyes again.
Sam replayed those words all the way back to the motel, wondering why they made him feel so warm.
* * *
Dad was up when Sam got back, and none too happy.
“Were you out seein’ that girl again?”
Sam was in no mood. “Dad, frankly it’s none of your business.”
“it’s my business as long as we’re hunting partners. And you’re my son, so that makes it my business anyway.”
John glared at him, then took another swig of his beer.
“Won’t matter soon anyway, I just gave notice here. We’re relocating up to northern New York tomorrow. We got a good lead on the demon.”
Sam’s stomach bottomed out. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known this would happen sooner or later, but somehow he kept thinking it would be later. They never stayed in one place too long, and they’d been here in Brigantine for almost three months, off and on.
Dad was staring at him, waiting for Sam to argue.
“No reason why you wouldn’t want to do that, right Sam? It’s the demon that killed your mom, and it’s a good lead. Besides, you know it’s not safe to stay in one place so long. Worn out our welcome here. Right?”
Sam was backed into a corner and he knew it.
“Right,” he said, and retreated to the shower.
Sam stayed awake all night, trying to figure out how he’d say goodbye to Dean.
John had most of their gear packed by first light, eager to get on the road.
“I need to take care of something first,” Sam said, and waited for Dad to challenge him. John narrowed his eyes and set his jaw, considering.
“Sam,” he said, but Sam didn’t back up – or back down.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, and walked out the door. John didn’t follow.
Another guy answered the door to Dean’s apartment when Sam knocked. “Oh I – is Dean here?”
The guy looked him up and down suspiciously. “And you are?”
“Sorry, I’m Sam. And you are?”
The guy nodded and motioned Sam inside. “Sam, huh? He said you were the hottest thing in the universe, but I thought he was exaggerating.”
“Jesuschrist Benny, don’t tell him that, he doesn’t need his head gettin’ any bigger!” Dean appeared from what Sam assumed was the bedroom. The swelling had gone down and his eyes were now multi colored yellow, gray and purple instead of black and blue. He had on sweatpants and nothing else and Sam wanted to sweep him into his arms and never let go.
Instead he cleared his throat. “I uh – my dad and I are moving on, so I – I came to say goodbye I guess, I mean for now.”
It was probably a lie. The chances that they would come back to Brigantine were slim, but Sam couldn’t make himself think of it as forever. He was a grown man – if he wanted to, he could come back. Maybe it wouldn’t be easy, but…
Dean stopped short and for a second Sam was sure he could see genuine shock and sadness, before Dean covered it up with a cough.
“Oh, you’re leaving. That’s – it was nice of you to come say goodbye.”
Dean looked down at his feet. They were bare. He looked vulnerable like that, achingly young. Sam wanted to keep him safe forever, never let anyone or anything hurt him again. Instead he forced himself to hold out his hand.
“It’s been real nice getting to know you,” he said, and it sounded ridiculous, like they’d been partners in a new restaurant venture or something instead of two people who’d fucked each other’s brains out and driven each other a little crazy.
Dean took his hand, and they both flinched a little with the contact. “Yeah,” he said, and cleared his throat. “You too.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said, incongruously.
Dean shrugged, and the vulnerability was gone from his expression. “Nothin’ to be sorry about. Clients come and go, life goes on, you know how it is.”
That stung, and Sam knew that Dean had meant it to.
“No, I mean, I’m sorry – I’m just really sorry that I can’t stay. I thought maybe we had something, that maybe this was more…”
Dean dropped his hand and took a step back. “Don’t,” he said, and shook his head. “Just don’t.”
Sam nodded.
“Probably for the best,” Dean said as Sam walked to the door. “We kinda made each other stupid.”
Sam laughed a little, but it was bitter. Dean was right; Sam wanted more than anything in the world to just lean into it and be stupid together.
“Yeah,” he said, and turned around again. “Bye, Dean. Don’t get dead.”
Dean nodded. “Bye, Sammy. You too.”
* * *
It was four months before Sam saw Dean again.
There wasn’t a single day in those four months that he didn’t think of him. He woke up in the morning with half remembered fragments of dreams, the press of Dean’s lips on his own, soft but insistent. Dean’s legs wrapped around his hips, Dean’s nails scratching a trail of pink along his back. Sometimes it was a wet dream, and Sam woke up stifling a groan, wishing his arms weren’t empty.
“I’m heading down to New Jersey tomorrow,” Sam announced in mid October. They were in a surprisingly picturesque little motel in New England, and John had been gashed pretty badly by a nasty poltergeist a few days before, so he was on bed rest for a few more days at least. More than enough time for Sam to make the drive to Brigantine.
“What? Why?”
John looked suspicious.
“Dad, I’m almost 21 years old, I think I can take a few days off if I want to.”
John frowned, but he didn’t argue. Sam threw a few of his favorite shirts in his duffle and didn’t sleep much, tossing and turning and replaying ridiculously romantic scenarios of how Dean would react when he saw Sam walking down the sidewalk. He knew that none of them would come true, but his heart beat faster anyway every time he thought about it.
Traffic was terrible all through Connecticut and New York and into New Jersey, so by the time Sam got to Brigantine it was almost midnight. He parked the truck and checked his hair in the mirror, then scoffed at himself and got out. There were a few of Dean’s colleagues on the block, but no Dean. Sam bit back his disappointment and bought himself a cup of coffee while he waited.
A few others who he didn’t recognize tried to get his attention, but Sam waved them off.
“Waiting for someone specific.”
The guy who had approached him raised an eyebrow. “I can be specific.”
Sam smiled. The man was attractive; before, Sam would have been interested. Now he didn’t even consider it. “I’m sure you can, I just – I’ve got my heart set on someone else.”
It was the truth.
The guy regarded him skeptically for another few seconds, then shrugged. “Your loss,” he said, and Sam watched his hips sway as he walked away, thought about Dean’s bowlegs.
It was almost 2 am when a Cadillac pulled up to the curb at the corner and stopped. Sam held his breath, hoping desperately. He let it out when he recognized the close-cropped brown hair and broad shoulders.
“Dean!” he called out without thinking, and Dean spun around in surprise.
Sam barely forced himself to stop short before pulling Dean into a hug. He skidded to a halt and shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly.
“Dean, hey, I was hoping you’d come back tonight. I’ve been waiting.”
“Sam,” Dean said, but he still wasn’t smiling. It wasn’t much like Sam’s fantasy.
“Yeah, it’s me. I know it’s been a long time, but I wanted to see you.”
Dean pursed his lips. Those lips. “Well, here I am.”
“You’re mad at me.”
Dean shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, why would I be mad at you? It’s not good business to be mad at customers.”
Sam cringed inwardly at the reminder, but pushed it away. “I shouldn’t have waited so long to come back, but my dad and I, we had a few big…jobs…and I couldn’t get away until now.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” Dean said, smoothing down his shirt where it was pushed up in the back. Sam wondered what he’d just been doing with the guy in the Cadillac.
“Are you – is it too late for me to, um, buy some time with you? I brought some money.”
Dean made him wait a few seconds, considering, then nodded. “Sure, Sam. I’m a little tired, but I’ll do my best to make it a good time.”
That stung too, and Sam wondered if this was a terrible idea. Somehow in the intervening four months he’d forgotten to think of Dean as someone he hired for sex and started thinking of him as a lover.
“I just wanna be with you,” Sam said. “I don’t even care what we do, I just wanna be with you.”
Dean’s expression softened then, and he motioned toward the hotel. Sam forced himself to walk slowly and calmly and tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.
“How bout a blow job?” Dean asked when they were in the room. He reached for Sam’s shirt and started to unbutton it. Just the brush of his fingers against Sam’s chest through the cotton made Sam want to cry, it felt so good.
“Whatever you want,” Sam answered, putting his hands on Dean’s waist and rubbing slow circles over his hip bones. “Can I have a kiss first though?”
Dean looked up, his eyes wide with surprise for a second before he nodded. Sam brought his hands up to cup Dean’s face and pull him in. He sighed as their mouths pressed together, just a touch of lips.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, breath caught between them, and then deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue between Dean’s lips. Dean opened for him, his whole body pressing against Sam’s, arms encircling Sam’s waist as they kissed. Their teeth clashed as the kiss went from soft and innocent to hard and needy, and Sam felt that electric charge that always set him on fire when he was with Dean start simmering low in his belly. There was nothing like this, nothing like having Dean in his arms.
Dean broke the kiss first, though it seemed like a monumental effort. He pushed Sam’s unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and let it fall, then dropped to his knees gracefully and reached for Sam’s zipper. Dean’s hands parted the fabric and tugged his jeans down his hips a little, didn’t wait to get his pants all the way off before reaching in and pulling Sam’s dick through the flap of his shorts.
“Oh god,” Sam swore, watching Dean fist his cock and then take it in his mouth greedily. He sucked Sam down almost all the way, then released him completely, working him with one hand while he grinned up at Sam.
“I love your big dick,” Dean said, licking his lips as he toyed with it, thumb rubbing slowly back and forth over the head until Sam thought he’d go crazy. “What do you want me to do, Sam? Tell me.” His eyes went heavy lidded, an image Sam knew he’d be calling up every night for a long time to come.
“Suck me,” Sam answered obediently, and Dean smirked.
“Make me,” he said, voice like a purr, and the words rocketed through Sam like someone had lit a fuse under him.
“Fuck,” Sam swore, and grabbed Dean’s head with both hands, forcing him forward and onto Sam’s cock. He opened his mouth wide and Sam plunged right in, too far, too fast, and he knew it but he couldn’t stop for a second. Dean choked hard, coughed and spluttered as Sam pulled out a little, but when Sam let go of his head, Dean pulled his hands right back again. It was a wordless command, and Sam took it, controlling the pace and depth of the blow job as Dean closed his eyes and just let Sam do it.
“God, god, you’re gonna kill me,” Sam groaned, as much from the view he had of Dean pliant and flushed all over, cheeks and ears pink from exertion. He had his eyes closed, lashes wet, but he looked almost peaceful, giving himself over to Sam’s hands.
That thought was enough to push Sam over the edge. He came unexpectedly, pulling Dean in too roughly and choking him with way too much all at once. When he let go, Dean collapsed backwards, panting heavily, tears running down his cheeks.
“Shit, are you okay?”
Sam sank down with him, one hand on Dean’s knee in concern.
Dean opened his eyes. Then rolled them. “’m fine, Sam. Nobody ever killed anyone with a blow job, you idiot.”
“I don’t know, feels like you almost killed me with one.”
Dean was sprawled on his back, and Sam had a clear view of the erection straining against his tight jeans.
“Let me,” Sam said, and ran his hands up Dean’s thighs.
“You don’t have to, that’s not part of the deal.”
“I know – I want to. Please, let me?”
Part Three
Author:
Artist:
Genre: Wincest
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 29,150
Sam thought about it and thought about it and thought about. He couldn’t think about anything else, in fact, which meant that John noticed and started to give him shit about it.
“If your head’s not in the game, I can’t trust you to have my back,” his Dad said a week and a half later. They’d been on two hunts, both close enough that they could stay at the motel that had been their home base for a few months now. Neither of them had been badly hurt, but it had been a near thing on the last one as the ghost of a man who had been pretty awful even before he died nearly threw John off a roof while Sam was distracted.
“I know,” he admitted. Both of them had scrapes and bruises that they shouldn’t because Sam’s usually impressive focus was off a little.
“Whoever she is, get her outta your system, Sam.”
Sam didn’t try to deny it, and he left the she alone. The last thing he wanted was Dad trying to figure out who had him all turned around – especially since that someone was an omega.
Staying away from Dean didn’t seem to be making things better, so Sam played some dirty pool two nights in a row and put his winnings in his pocket to head into town.
He got lucky right away; Dean hadn’t picked up a customer yet. He was on his customary corner, his fellow sex workers all spread out at a discreet distance so none of them interfered with each other’s business. Sam paused a little distance away and just let himself look.
The weather was warmer than it had been the first time he’d encountered Dean, and Dean had on fewer clothes as a result. Or more accurately, smaller clothes. His tee shirt was cut off to expose flat stomach and muscled abs, his jeans cut into shorts that Sam knew had to be barely keeping his junk covered. They were low slung, far enough below his belly button to show the happy trail that drew Sam’s (and everyone’s) eye downward, to the slight bulge of what was waiting. Just to make his legs look even hotter and somehow more decadent, Dean still had his boots on, the laces undone at the top seeming to suggest that he was ready to just kick them off to get out of his pants. Sam hadn’t had much chance to really appreciate Dean’s legs before, but he did now. Either he shaved them or he just naturally didn’t have much hair; his legs were smooth and long, his thighs muscular and his calves sculpted by lots of walking and standing or lots of working out. Or lots of athletic sex, Sam thought, and grimaced. Imagining Dean having sex with another man made Sam instantly angry.
Sam took a deep breath and forced his fists to unclench. Rage had gotten him into trouble with Dean last time; he had to keep a cool head if he wanted to take Dean to bed. Even more, if he wanted Dean to actually like him. Sam wanted to roll his eyes at himself for that last thought, but he also couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel that way. He’d done a lot of thinking in the past two weeks, and he couldn’t deny that he didn’t just want to fuck Dean – he wanted to know Dean. It was stupid, and probably impossible, and definitely a terrible idea, but Sam wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
Dean turned his head as soon as Sam started walking. He didn’t move, still leaning up against the brick building in that provocative pose that advertised to all the world what he was selling and how good he’d make it for you, but his eyes narrowed when they locked to Sam’s.
“Hey,” Sam said in what he hoped was a casual way.
Dean didn’t answer for a few seconds, and Sam’s heart began to beat too fast with anxiety. Was Dean still pissed? Would he say no and wait for the next customer, who would almost surely be appearing at any moment?
Finally he nodded back. “Hey, Sam.”
A rush of gratitude made Sam blush; he could feel his cheeks heat. Dean remembered his name. Oh god, I’m like a middle schooler, all a flutter because he remembered your name. You’re an alpha, for godsakes, get a grip.
Dean smiled like he knew exactly what Sam was thinking.
“I uh, I was able to bring $200 if you’re willing to – to do what we did last time.”
Dean bit his lip and paused again, and Sam swallowed hard, waiting.
“You wanna use a little of that to buy us some breakfast?”
It was so entirely unexpected – and so exactly what Sam had fantasized about – that his mouth dropped open.
“I – you – you’d eat with me?”
Dean outright laughed at that, and Sam blushed harder. Somehow this omega man made Sam feel like the tables were turned and he was the omega unable to control himself.
“It’s not standard practice,” Dean admitted, “And if you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I don’t think we should fuck again, and I wanna explain why. Plus I’m starving.”
Sam tried to hide how crestfallen he felt, how crushing the disappointment of knowing he wasn’t going to be able to have Dean again was. At the same time, he apparently really did want to get to know this guy, because even without the hope of more mindblowing sex, he wanted the breakfast conversation.
“Okay, sure – I mean, no, I’d love to have breakfast with you, I’d love to get to know you. We don’t have to have sex.”
Dean’s eyes twinkled the way they did when he was genuinely amused. “I didn’t say we couldn’t have sex, I just said maybe we shouldn’t fuck.”
“Oh!” Sam couldn’t keep the relief and elation out of his voice, but Dean didn’t seem to mind.
“Sex, it’s kinda what I do,” Dean added, “But it’s sweet that you were up for breakfast even if it was just talking. I don’t get that reaction very often. Especially not from an alpha.”
Dean probably didn’t know what a wonderful compliment that was, but Sam drank it in, warm all over from Dean’s words.
They went to the Red Roof Diner across the street from the bar, and Dean ordered a ham and cheese omelet with a side of bacon and sourdough toast with jam and a large OJ along with his black coffee, and Sam wondered how he stayed so thin if that’s how he liked to eat. Omegas weren’t known for their big appetites.
“Wow,” he said before he could think better of it.
Dean cocked an eyebrow. “What? You worried about the money or wondering how I keep my girlish figure?”
“Neither. Just impressed with your appetite.”
“Oh baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Dean answered, and winked.
Sam shifted on the fake leather seat of the booth they’d been seated at. Dean smirked.
“You’re so easy,” he said, and dug into his omelet.
It was true. Sam had never ever thought of himself as easy, but with Dean? He was. He was fairly certain that was a serious problem but couldn’t bring himself to care right now.
“Will you tell me a little about your life?” Sam asked when they were both more than halfway through their substantial breakfasts. “Like when you were a kid, how you ended up here -- you know, whatever?”
Dean finished off the strip of bacon he’d started and shrugged. “Not much to tell. Raised in foster homes, most of ‘em horrible. Omega kids tend to get placed in homes that aren’t approved for alphas and betas, so let’s just say they’re not the most… loving… families.”
Sam’s stomach dropped. He put down his fork, suddenly not very hungry.
“Why do they do it then?”
Dean snorted. “Money mostly. Take in a half dozen omega kids, you can make a fair amount of money. Specially if you don’t feed ‘em much or buy them clothes or toys or whatever. I never lasted too long in any one place.”
“Why?” Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.
Dean shrugged again. “Not a very good kid. I was pissed all the time, couldn’t bring myself to do what the parents wanted. Beatings never worked on me as well as they did on most omega kids, I guess.”
Sam’s stomach turned. His question about Dean’s childhood had been a naïve one, he now realized. How stupid of him to think he was going to get a story about teddy bears and bedtime stories. Hell, Sam hadn’t even had much of that himself. He couldn’t remember much about his early childhood, but he was pretty sure most of it had sucked once his mother was gone.
“Why were you in foster care? What happened to your family?”
Dean looked down. He ran his fork through the remains of his omelet, then let it clatter down to the plate. “They didn’t want an omega kid. Soon as it was clear I was gonna be one, they got rid of me.”
Sam knew that happened, of course. Omegas were so devalued and subject to so much stigma that some families just couldn’t face raising one. If they had an alpha child, that child took precedence – and many did not want an alpha and omega raised together. Even if they were siblings, often the biological urges were too strong and that was…complicated. So of course it was the omega child who was rejected. Somehow Sam just hadn’t thought about that happening to Dean.
His fists clenched under the table, though he kept himself calm with effort. What Sam really wanted to do was find Dean’s family and beat the shit out of them for hurting him – because for the first time, emotion crossed Dean’s face that wasn’t anger or seductiveness. It was sadness, and it made Sam enraged.
“That really sucks,” he said finally. Dean shook his head, shaking off the fleeting glimpse of real emotion too.
“It was a long time ago. Besides, it happens to omegas all the time. Not that that makes it okay, it’s fucking not okay, but I’m far from the only one.”
“I know,” Sam said, “But it still sucks. So you said your foster families, they beat you? Jesus,”
Dean looked up and met Sam’s eyes. “You really wanna hear this? It’s not exactly good foreplay, if you know what I mean.”
Sam didn’t hesitate. “I do. Please. What did they – what did they do to you?”
“Beat me, starved me, forced me… you name it. Some of them were pretty creative actually. The people who take in omega kids, they do it for a reason. CPS ain’t gonna come after ‘em if a twelve year old can’t sit down comfortably in school or has cigarette burns on his arms. Not for an omega kid.”
“Shit,” Sam swore. He slid his plate across the table, not even wanting to look at food. “I’m such an idiot, I should have realized. I haven’t known many omegas, I guess.”
As soon as he said it, Sam realized how true that was. John didn’t like them, didn’t trust them. He’d always warned Sam to stay away, not to get pulled into an omega’s orbit because then it was hard to get out. It turned out Dad had probably been right all along.
Dean was looking at him intently. “Most alphas don’t. Unless they’re bonded, of course. But that’s not always a very good deal for the omega either. Not exactly an equal partnership, if you know what I mean.”
Sam thought about his parents. He didn’t really remember much about when his Mom was alive, but he thought it had probably been okay. Better than most. Certainly Mary’s death had gutted his Dad, set him on a quest for revenge that had become Sam’s quest too. She was important to him, of that Sam was sure.
“I’m happy to be on my own,” Dean added, and drank the rest of his coffee.
“That makes sense.”
“So, you?”
“Me, what?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I told you mine, you tell me yours. Don’t you know how these games work, Sammy?”
Sam grinned at the unexpected endearment. Dean actually wanted to know something about him? Too bad there wasn’t much he could say.
“Well, it’s just me and my Dad. We’re in business together. Takes us all over the US, so we get to see a lot of the country. Don’t make a lot of money, but it’s enough to survive.”
Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Man of mystery, huh?”
Sam felt himself blush a little. “No, it’s just – there’s not much to tell.”
“You don’t go to college then, smart guy like you?”
Sam shook his head, the heartfelt words of a high school English teacher ringing in his ears. You’re smart, Sam. You could be something. They’re offering you a free ride, Sam.
“Nah. My Dad was against it, wanted me to join up with him in the family business.”
Dean considered. “But you wanted to.”
Sam thought about lying, but for some reason he wanted to tell Dean the truth. At least as much as he was able. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I did.”
Dean nodded, waiting for Sam to go on. Instead he voiced the thought that was still making loops in his brain.
“You got a shit deal out of life. I’m sorry.”
“I was one of the lucky ones,” Dean said, going back to finishing his breakfast like it was no big deal. “I was strong already, my dad always wanted us to be fit. I could fight, when most of them couldn’t. It’s been….helpful.”
“Still?” Sam asked. “Now?”
Dean frowned. “You wanna know if it keeps me safe, doing this kind of work.”
Sam started to answer, but Dean waved him to be quiet.
“You wanna know why I do this – if I’m strong enough to do something else.”
Sam couldn’t deny it. Dean could be so many other things – he was strong, he was clearly smart.
“It’s not that easy, Sam. I’m not gonna get too pissy with you because the world is just different for alphas, so why would you know? But it’s not that easy. Even in this state – and it’s not the worst by a long shot – there are mandatory employment tests. Omegas can’t fly under the radar. We’re considered too distracting to be on the job with other people. Especially…”
“Alphas,” Sam finished.
“It’s pretty clear who the group in power is, right?”
Dean raised an eyebrow. It looked like he was daring Sam to tell him he’d gone too far.
“Yeah, it’s pretty clear. And pretty easy for that group not to look at it too hard.”
“So you’re not just a pretty face and a hot alpha body,” Dean said, corner of his mouth pulling up.
“Well, there’s that.”
Dean nodded, then went on. “I make a good living,” he said, taking another bite of omelet. “I don’t answer to anyone, I work when I want, nobody is the boss of me but me. It’s no more dangerous than any other way of life for an omega.”
Sam didn’t argue.
They ate in silence for a few minutes until Dean put his fork down. He bumped Sam’s foot with his own under the table, then slowly slid his boot up Sam’s calf. Sam blushed, shifting on the seat as his pants tightened.
“So we should talk about what you asked for earlier,” he said, though Sam had a hard time focusing on the words while the toe of Dean’s boot made it up to the bend of his knee.
“Don’t think I can form coherent sentences if you’re gonna do that.”
Dean laughed again. He looked young when he laughed, carefree. Not like he’d been kicked out of his house and surviving what sounded like hell for the past…
“How old are you?” Sam asked abruptly. Dean looked eighteen, but Sam realized he wasn’t sure.
“Random. I usually lie when I get asked that question, but okay. I’m 24.” Dean said, and regarded Sam for a moment. “And you’re like…eighteen, right?”
Sam puffed out his chest without meaning to. “I’m twenty.”
“Oh excuse me, my mistake. All grown up.”
Sam really liked the way Dean looked when he was teasing. His eyes sparkled, looking even more ridiculously green than usual.
“Grown up enough,” Sam answered, and he let his voice deepen to its alpha growl.
The effect was instantaneous. Dean’s lashes fluttered as he blinked, and his lips parted on a sudden inhale. Sam could see the tips of his ears go pink, and a blush spread across his freckled cheeks.
“Fuck,” Dean swore, and shifted on the seat as uncomfortably as Sam had earlier. Sam couldn’t help but feel smug.
“Sorry.”
“You’re not. But that’s okay, I’m really not either. And that’s why I don’t think it’s a good idea to do what you suggested earlier.”
Sam wasn’t sure if Dean’s obvious physiological response was making all the blood drain from Sam’s brain (it was) but that didn’t seem to make sense.
“But I don’t – if we both want it – I mean, hell, it was good. It was fucking amazing, wasn’t it? I mean, it was for me.”
“It was. And that’s the problem. This is a job, Sam. I can’t be letting myself get all out of control like that. I don’t know what it is about you, but I take the best suppressants that exist and they work about 99.999% of the time. I don’t get heats, I don’t lose it like that. I don’t know what happens to me with you, but if we fuck I can tell it’s gonna happen again. And I just can’t let it.”
Dean was looking at him pleadingly, like it was important to him that Sam understand.
“I get it,” Sam said finally, though what he really wanted to do was try to argue Dean out of it. “I don’t let myself get like that either – I hate losing control like that. I hate who I become when I’m like that. I hate all that rough-you-up and take what I want alpha bullshit. It’s never happened to me quite like that though, like it did with you. I’m sorry, I really lost it, I know.”
Dean looked surprised. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“I’m not trying to make it like oh poor me,” Sam was quick to say. “I’m an alpha, I know all kinds of privilege comes with that. I’m just saying that I don’t like that feeling, I don’t like being out of control. You can’t protect yourself when you’re not in control, and you never know…”
“Agreed,” Dean said, and nudged Sam’s leg under the table again. “I think we can probably both get through a blow job without losing control though, if you’re still determined to spend that money burning a hole in your pocket.”
Sam reached down and grabbed Dean’s foot, moved it up between his legs and nudged the toe against his crotch where his cock was agreeing with the suggestion. Dean startled, almost sliding off the seat in the process, and pulled his foot away.
“Asshole,” he said, but he was smirking.
They didn’t exactly take their time walking to the hotel, but they didn’t run either. Sam let himself enjoy the anticipation. Every time he snuck a glance at Dean, he found him looking back. The night was warm, and Sam could see a thin sheen of sweat on the small of Dean’s back where it was bare between his half shirt and his low-slung shorts as Dean sauntered through the lobby doors before him. Sam hung back as they made their way to the room, watching the subtle sway of Dean’s hips and the way his strong thighs were slightly bowed. By the time they got to the room, Sam was aching in his jeans.
He let Dean set the pace this time, though, thinking about their conversation about control – and about how little of that Dean had had over the course of his life. Dean pushed him up against the bare wall and lifted Sam’s shirt; Sam raised his hands and let Dean slip it over his head. When Sam could see again, Dean was right there, so close that Sam could see every soft spike of hair, the thickness of his lashes, the sprinkle of freckles across his nose.
“Hey,” he said, and caught Dean under the chin with one hand. Dean raised his head, and Sam pulled him a fraction closer. “Can I kiss you? Is that okay?”
Dean’s eyes were dark; the lashes gave that telltale flutter that told Sam his words had had an impact.
For a moment, Sam thought the answer was no. Then Dean stretched up the last few inches and brought their mouths together.
It was stupid how that kiss felt. They’d fucked already, they’d sucked each other’s dicks, they’d been naked and wanton and out of control. But that simple press of lips felt better than all the physical pleasure Sam had felt before; he groaned because he couldn’t help it, slipping his tongue between Dean’s open lips and deepening the kiss. Dean moaned in response, pressed his whole body into Sam’s so they were touching everywhere, chests and hips and thighs and Sam’s hand around Dean’s neck to keep him there.
Sam tried to keep it slow, let Dean keep setting the pace. He could feel Dean’s erection grind against his own as they moved, both of them pushing into the kiss. Dean had both hands wrapped around Sam’s back, nails scritch-scratching over the bare skin and tracing the muscles. He nipped at Sam’s tongue, sucked on it in a rhythm that left no doubt what he would soon be doing to Sam’s dick. Sam’s other hand snaked down Dean’s back, dipped beneath the waist of his shorts between his cheeks and he could feel Dean shudder, full body shiver. He moved his hand to Dean’s waist instead, ignoring how badly his fingers wanted to find the place where he knew Dean would be hot and maybe slick.
Dean broke their kiss and pulled back just slightly.
“Took extra suppressants, just in case,” he said, but his body was still moving, hips pushing restlessly against Sam’s.
“Whatever you want,” Sam assured, and held himself still until Dean went up on his toes and kissed him again.
“Want you,” Dean murmured against his lips, and the words made Sam’s dick leap in his jeans. Dean’s hands were there then, skilled and quick at his zipper, tugging his pants and shorts low on his hips and pulling him out. Dean dropped gracefully to his knees and planted more kisses, this time not to Sam’s mouth, and Sam groaned again at the feel of those full lips sliding over him.
Dean teased him only a little, seemed to sense that Sam was too wound up to be able to wait too long. He looked up at Sam with hooded eyes as he took him all the way in, as far as was humanly possible, swirling his tongue as he stroked the rest of Sam with one hand. It was blissful, being able to watch Dean do this while the pleasure deepened and intensified, little by little like Dean was winding him up inch by agonizing inch, always stopping just short of his climax.
“Please ohgod,” Sam begged, and he could tell Dean got off on that, sucking even more eagerly. Sam tangled his hands in Dean’s short hair, tugging on the strands that were long enough, his hips rocking against Dean’s face. “Please need to, need to, god,” Sam pleaded, because it felt like if he didn’t come he was going to explode. He was vaguely aware that he could smell Dean – sweat and sex and the dark sweet moist scent that made Sam’s thighs start to shake uncontrollably. “Fuck Dean, fuck, you can’t – I can’t.”
Sam took his hands off Dean’s head and slapped them flat against the wall, trying to anchor himself so he didn’t do something he would regret. Dean’s free hand was clenched around Sam’s hip, holding him pinned to the wall, fingers digging in so roughly that he was piercing the skin. The little burst of pain only aroused Sam more; still he kept himself upright and his hands to himself, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that he’d climax before he lost control again.
Sam could feel his knot starting to swell, and Dean let go of him when he felt it too, grabbing his own cock through his shorts, squeezing himself desperately then slipping his hand down the front of his pants to jerk himself in rhythm with what he was doing to Sam with his mouth.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam chanted to himself, or maybe to Dean, trying to convince them both that everything was under control. He was dizzy with the smells in the room, overheated, his own sweat running in rivulets down his temples, along the planes of his bare chest.
Suddenly Dean released him and fell backwards, scrambling across the floor and kicking free of his shorts.
“Fuck it, goddamn it, fuck it all!” he yelled, his voice wrecked from having Sam’s big dick rammed down his throat for the past twenty minutes.
Sam just stood there, naked and dripping and achingly hard, staring.
Dean ripped his shirt over his head and kicked his last remaining boot across the floor.
“Don’t just stand there,” he ordered, face flushed the same pink as his nipples that Sam’s eyes had locked to. “Come over here and fuck me!”
Sam had the presence of mind to say “I thought you didn’t want to” before Dean grabbed him by the dick and tugged him the few feet to the bed.
Dean sprawled backwards, legs spread wide so that Sam fell between them. Sam was too far gone to even help much, still trying frantically to keep his wits about him and not do something that Dean didn’t want. With Dean’s hands pushing and pulling him, he could feel Dean’s strength acutely, and he let himself be manhandled into position. Dean’s hands guided him inside, and they both moaned as Sam sunk into the tight slick heat of him.
It was bliss, just like the first time, but better because this time they could see each other. Dean kept his eyes open as Sam pushed in deep, let Sam see the intense pleasure that brought him as his mouth fell open and he panted hard, every new inch bringing a gasp and making Dean’s breathing go stuttered. Sam watched, transfixed, as Dean’s body took him in, until he was in all the way and Dean looked at him with something like amazement, his eyes wide and dark.
“Fuck,” Dean whispered, his voice rough. “Never felt anything better than you inside me.”
An involuntary shudder hit Sam with those words, his whole body quivering, so hard his teeth chattered with it. “Dean,” he choked out, feeling his knot swell even bigger. He bent his head to Dean’s chest, licked over his pointed nipples, then took one in his mouth and suckled. Dean drew in a pained breath, held it as Sam went from one nipple to the other, nipping and sucking them red and sore.
“Ohgod yes,” Dean whimpered, and Sam pulled up to look at him. “Dean”, Sam said again, and Dean’s eyes rolled up in his head as he came just like that, his cock trapped between their stomachs and pulsing between them.
Dean’s thighs clenched around his hips so hard Sam thought there’d be bruises there, dug his fingers into Sam’s back until his nails made Sam bleed, and Sam welcomed it all.
“Shit, fuck, did you just?” Sam managed, and then he was coming too, his body convulsing with the bursts of pleasure.
He didn’t realize for another twenty minutes that they didn’t use a condom.
“Shit,” Sam swore, irrationally trying to disengage himself from Dean like it wasn’t already way too late.
“Ow,” Dean complained, and smacked Sam on the chest. They’d rolled halfway to their sides, Dean’s legs still wrapped around Sam’s hips.
“We didn’t use a condom,” Sam said, and watched Dean open his eyes.
“What? But I never…. Oh shit.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Dean sighed, shifted so that Sam was on his back and Dean was on top. “My leg’s asleep. Your turn to be on the bottom.”
“Are you mad?”
Dean rested his forehead on Sam’s shoulder. “At who, myself?”
A little spark of hope that Dean didn’t hate him went rushing warm through Sam’s chest. “At me, I should have realized.”
Dean spoke against Sam’s chest. “Yeah, me too. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Our brains don’t work for shit when we do this.”
Sam tentatively ran a hand down Dean’s back, through the half-dried sweat there.
“Seems that way,” he admitted.
Sam’s brain went off into a detour it shouldn’t, thinking about what would happen if Dean were by some miracle pregnant. He’d have to quit hunting. He’d have to leave Dad, stay with Dean. Dean would have to give up hooking. The fantasy wasn’t exactly a bad one.
“I was on a lot of suppressants, it’s probably fine,” Dean was saying.
Sam’s hand had slid lower, down to where their bodies were still joined. Dean shifted as he felt it.
“Sam,” he said, a warning.
Sam pulled his hand away.
A few minutes later, Dean managed to disengage himself, climbing off with shaky legs. They were both a mess.
“Aw Jesus,” Dean complained as he walked awkwardly to the bathroom. Sam stared at the trickles of fluid between his thighs and tried hard to regret it.
Dean tossed a damp washcloth at him from the bathroom.
“Thanks.” Sam was cleaned off and dressed when Dean came out, still gorgeously naked. Sam eyed him up and down appreciatively.
Dean swept the money off the table like he always did and put it in the pocket of his shorts before pulling them back on. This was the awkward part, the part where Sam abruptly remembered that they weren’t friends and they weren’t lovers; he was a customer.
Dean sat down on the bed still shirtless. His nipples were still red and a little swollen from all Sam’s attention. That knowledge made Sam’s stomach flutter even if he was still too sated to actually get excited.
“Are you gonna tell me I can’t see you again?”
Dean looked over and paused, then shook his head. To Sam’s look of relief, he rolled his eyes. “But maybe I’m gonna make you come find me with a condom already rolled on that monster dick of yours next time.”
Sam grinned. “I can do that.”
Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair impatiently. “I just don’t know what it is about you. I never get irresponsible like this, never. I just….I don’t know. And honestly? I don’t know if I love it or hate it.”
“Well, uh, you seem to love it,” Sam pointed out.
Dean scowled. “Not the sex, idiot. Clearly we both love the sex. I meant the other stuff.”
Sam probably liked it more than he should, but he decided not to admit that to Dean. “Yeah,” he agreed. “This has never happened to me before either”. That part was true.
Dean bent to put on his boots and pulled his half shirt over his head. “We should go. Time’s up and I gotta get back to work.”
Like always, that stung. Sam gulped his emotions back with effort.
“I’ve got a job out of town for the next few days. See you next week?”
Dean nodded and headed for the door. As he stepped through into the hallway, Sam called after him.
“Hey Dean – be safe out there.”
Dean turned back, gave Sam a half smile. “You too, Sam."
* * *
One week turned to two, then to three, then to four. John drove them all the way to Iowa, then south to Indiana, insisting that he had a lead on the monster that had killed Sam’s mother.
If Sam had thought another visit with Dean would “get it out of his system” he had been one hundred percent horribly entirely wrong. Long hours in the car, Sam did nothing but think of Dean. He replayed every moment they’d had together, daydreams of the way Dean’s eyes sparkled when he laughed quickly turning to images of Dean’s lips stretched around his cock, the sound of Dean’s half stifled gasps and whimpers when Sam sucked a tender nipple.
“Cut it out, Sam,” his dad complained, wrinkling his nose. “I can smell you from here.”
Sam had the decency to blush. It was true, he’d been constantly horny ever since they’d left Brigantine. It was like his body had a mind of its own, and all it wanted to do was get back to Dean, get up on him and up in him and make love to him again.
“Sorry.”
“It’s an omega, isn’t it?”
Sam sat up straighter, fantasies forgotten. He felt instantly on alert, certain that something was threatening Dean. It was irrational, but he couldn’t shake it.
“I’m twenty years old, Dad, it’s just – look, it’s nothing, okay? It’s no one.”
“Bullshit,” John said, and Sam could smell his father’s anger. “I told you to stay away from them, Sam. Didn’t I tell you that? This kinda infatuation, it only happens with an omega. Is she back in Brigantine? Is it that girl from the whorehouse for godsakes?”
“Eww, no. The girl you slept with? I don’t need your sloppy seconds, Dad.”
John’s face went red with rage, and Sam watched his knuckles go white on the wheel.
“Don’t cross me, boy,” John ordered. “I can still whup you if I need to.”
Sam forced himself silent. He was fairly certain that wasn’t true, but it had happened often enough in the past that he didn’t want to test that theory. Instead he lied.
“It was another girl, and yeah, she was an omega. And yeah, you were probably right, I shouldn’t have. I won’t go back, not to her. She’s too expensive anyway.”
The extra little bit of information sold it for John. He reached over and patted Sam’s knee in a rare moment of affection.
“Good boy. Look, I get it, there ain’t nothin’ more compelling than a ripe omega. But it makes you soft in the head, makes you do stupid things. We can’t be around ‘em, us alphas. It’s better that way.”
Sam didn’t say but you just slept with one yourself a month ago, or but you married one twenty some years ago. He popped an old cassette tape in the player, let the classic rock drown out thoughts of Dean, determined to keep him safe.
He even made himself wait until John went out first to go into town once they returned to Brigantine, until the rumble of Dad’s Impala had faded before he started up his own ancient pickup truck. Dean wasn’t on the corner when he got there and Sam couldn’t stand to just wait around; he approached one of Dean’s co-workers a block away. She was a pretty girl, clearly a beta.
“Hey,” she said, batting her eyelashes as he approached.
“Oh hey, sorry, I’m looking for someone else. Dean?”
The girl snorted. “Of course you are. He gets all the great looking guys. He’s not working tonight though.”
That brought Sam up short. “He’s not working?” he repeated, confused.
She nodded. “That’s what I said. So either pick a second best or come back another time.”
“I can’t,” Sam said without thinking. “Please, I have to see him, it’s been weeks and I said I’d be back weeks ago and I don’t have any way of contacting him – please. I know this is weird, I know I’m just a – a client. But I just – can you at least get a message to him? Here, I’ll write down my cell number.”
He scribbled his name and number on the back of a scrap of paper in his wallet and handed it to her. She raised an eyebrow but put it in her pocket.
“I just wanna let him know….I just wanna know he’s okay,” Sam corrected. He turned to walk away, but the girl called after him.
“Hey, hold on. You’re Sam?”
He nodded.
The girl bit her lip. “He’s gonna kill me for this, but he talks about you – he wondered where you disappeared to. And right now he’s…. well he’s not doin’ that well. Maybe you…”
“He’s what? What happened? Where is he?” Sam found himself crowding into the girl without meaning to, and forced himself to back up. “Please, please can you just tell me?”
The girl turned over the scrap of paper and wrote an address. “Tell him he’s not allowed to kill me,” she said, but Sam was already running.
The building where Dean lived was five blocks away and Sam didn’t slow down until he realized he was at the address. It was, predictably since it was in the same neighborhood as the bar and the hotel and the street corners teeming with sex workers, not the nicest place. Of course Sam had never had a home at all for the past fifteen years, so no judgment. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked on Apartment B12 on the second floor.
“It’s open Benny, don’t knock it the fuck down,” came Dean’s voice from inside, and Sam was flooded with a relief so strong that it made him weak. He burst through the door and almost tripped over a squalling cat.
Yeowww said the cat, as Sam did an impromptu dance to keep his footing.
“Sam? What the fuck?”
Dean was lying on a couch that had seen better days. When he sat up, Sam could see that he had two black eyes and his face was swollen and discolored.
“What the hell happened?” Sam demanded, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of the couch. Dean just gaped at him.
“What are you doing here?”
Sam reached out to touch Dean’s cheek, but he flinched away. “Sam, how did you find me? Why are you here?”
“I sort of begged it out of one of your friends. I was worried, and I thought you might be worried, I mean I guess that’s stupid, why would you worry about me, but then she said you weren’t doing that well and I just…”
“Goddamn Lisa,” Dean swore, and flopped back down on the couch. “She’s got a big mouth.”
“What happened to you? Who did this?”
Sam’s alpha instincts were all stirring at once. He wanted to find the person who had hurt Dean and rip them apart. Literally.
“Nobody,” Dean answered, crossing his arms stubbornly across his chest. “Just a john, Sam. Nobody. An asshole who gets off on beating the shit out of omegas. Specially guys.”
“Tell me who he is. Tell me where to find him.” Sam tried to keep his tone even, but even he could hear the undercurrent of violent rage that was threatening to seep out.
“Shit no. I can smell the alpha pheromones comin’ off of you like crazy right now – no way are you goin’ after some Fortune 500 sicko who might come after you in return.”
“I think I can take some douche businessman,” Sam retorted.
Dean opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Sam then, a hint of a smile on his still-swollen and split lip. “I have no doubt, but there are worse things than a beat-down. Just leave it, Sam.”
Sam forced himself to calm down. The last thing he needed was to end up in jail and have Dad come to bail him out, only to find out he was defending the honor of the omega sex worker that he was obsessed with.
“So where’ve you been?”
Sam met Dean’s eyes, trying to figure out if Dean had really noticed his absence. “My dad and I had a couple jobs over in Iowa and Indiana. You miss me?”
Dean snorted. “Missed your hundred dollar bills.”
Sam looked down so Dean wouldn’t see the hurt he couldn’t quite stifle. What an idiot he was, falling for a prostitute.
Dean’s hand twining through his hair made him look back up.
“Nah, I didn’t mean that. Yeah, I missed you. Thought you’d skipped town without even sayin’ bye.”
Dean pushed a strand of Sam’s hair behind his ear. It gave Sam goosebumps.
“So you’re not – last time, when we – you’re not…”
Dean made a face. “Pregnant? No Sam, no kids in there.”
He patted his flat stomach.
Sam felt a momentary pang of regret, then reminded himself to be grateful.
“What can I do for you? Maybe some ice for your face?”
“Yeah, not so pretty now, am I?”
Sam picked up one of Dean’s hands and held it in his own. “Still pretty.”
“Fuckin’ terrible liar,” Dean said, but he smiled. “Yeah, I guess ice would be good.”
Sam stayed as long as he dared. He held an ice pack to Dean’s cheek, then cooked a can of chicken noodle soup that he found in the cupboard and propped Dean up with pillows so he could eat it. Dean rolled his eyes a lot but he also ate the entire bowl, so Sam considered that a win. They watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy and part of Fresh Off The Boat because that came on next, and Dean’s eyes slipped closed. Sam watched him sleep for a few minutes, the rise and fall of his chest and the soft snores.
He made enough noise when he got up to let Dean know he was leaving.
“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Sam said, and leaned over to kiss Dean’s forehead.
Dean reached up to grab his hand, squeezing his fingers. “Thanks, Sammy,” he said, and closed his eyes again.
Sam replayed those words all the way back to the motel, wondering why they made him feel so warm.
* * *
Dad was up when Sam got back, and none too happy.
“Were you out seein’ that girl again?”
Sam was in no mood. “Dad, frankly it’s none of your business.”
“it’s my business as long as we’re hunting partners. And you’re my son, so that makes it my business anyway.”
John glared at him, then took another swig of his beer.
“Won’t matter soon anyway, I just gave notice here. We’re relocating up to northern New York tomorrow. We got a good lead on the demon.”
Sam’s stomach bottomed out. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known this would happen sooner or later, but somehow he kept thinking it would be later. They never stayed in one place too long, and they’d been here in Brigantine for almost three months, off and on.
Dad was staring at him, waiting for Sam to argue.
“No reason why you wouldn’t want to do that, right Sam? It’s the demon that killed your mom, and it’s a good lead. Besides, you know it’s not safe to stay in one place so long. Worn out our welcome here. Right?”
Sam was backed into a corner and he knew it.
“Right,” he said, and retreated to the shower.
Sam stayed awake all night, trying to figure out how he’d say goodbye to Dean.
John had most of their gear packed by first light, eager to get on the road.
“I need to take care of something first,” Sam said, and waited for Dad to challenge him. John narrowed his eyes and set his jaw, considering.
“Sam,” he said, but Sam didn’t back up – or back down.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, and walked out the door. John didn’t follow.
Another guy answered the door to Dean’s apartment when Sam knocked. “Oh I – is Dean here?”
The guy looked him up and down suspiciously. “And you are?”
“Sorry, I’m Sam. And you are?”
The guy nodded and motioned Sam inside. “Sam, huh? He said you were the hottest thing in the universe, but I thought he was exaggerating.”
“Jesuschrist Benny, don’t tell him that, he doesn’t need his head gettin’ any bigger!” Dean appeared from what Sam assumed was the bedroom. The swelling had gone down and his eyes were now multi colored yellow, gray and purple instead of black and blue. He had on sweatpants and nothing else and Sam wanted to sweep him into his arms and never let go.
Instead he cleared his throat. “I uh – my dad and I are moving on, so I – I came to say goodbye I guess, I mean for now.”
It was probably a lie. The chances that they would come back to Brigantine were slim, but Sam couldn’t make himself think of it as forever. He was a grown man – if he wanted to, he could come back. Maybe it wouldn’t be easy, but…
Dean stopped short and for a second Sam was sure he could see genuine shock and sadness, before Dean covered it up with a cough.
“Oh, you’re leaving. That’s – it was nice of you to come say goodbye.”
Dean looked down at his feet. They were bare. He looked vulnerable like that, achingly young. Sam wanted to keep him safe forever, never let anyone or anything hurt him again. Instead he forced himself to hold out his hand.
“It’s been real nice getting to know you,” he said, and it sounded ridiculous, like they’d been partners in a new restaurant venture or something instead of two people who’d fucked each other’s brains out and driven each other a little crazy.
Dean took his hand, and they both flinched a little with the contact. “Yeah,” he said, and cleared his throat. “You too.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said, incongruously.
Dean shrugged, and the vulnerability was gone from his expression. “Nothin’ to be sorry about. Clients come and go, life goes on, you know how it is.”
That stung, and Sam knew that Dean had meant it to.
“No, I mean, I’m sorry – I’m just really sorry that I can’t stay. I thought maybe we had something, that maybe this was more…”
Dean dropped his hand and took a step back. “Don’t,” he said, and shook his head. “Just don’t.”
Sam nodded.
“Probably for the best,” Dean said as Sam walked to the door. “We kinda made each other stupid.”
Sam laughed a little, but it was bitter. Dean was right; Sam wanted more than anything in the world to just lean into it and be stupid together.
“Yeah,” he said, and turned around again. “Bye, Dean. Don’t get dead.”
Dean nodded. “Bye, Sammy. You too.”
* * *
It was four months before Sam saw Dean again.
There wasn’t a single day in those four months that he didn’t think of him. He woke up in the morning with half remembered fragments of dreams, the press of Dean’s lips on his own, soft but insistent. Dean’s legs wrapped around his hips, Dean’s nails scratching a trail of pink along his back. Sometimes it was a wet dream, and Sam woke up stifling a groan, wishing his arms weren’t empty.
“I’m heading down to New Jersey tomorrow,” Sam announced in mid October. They were in a surprisingly picturesque little motel in New England, and John had been gashed pretty badly by a nasty poltergeist a few days before, so he was on bed rest for a few more days at least. More than enough time for Sam to make the drive to Brigantine.
“What? Why?”
John looked suspicious.
“Dad, I’m almost 21 years old, I think I can take a few days off if I want to.”
John frowned, but he didn’t argue. Sam threw a few of his favorite shirts in his duffle and didn’t sleep much, tossing and turning and replaying ridiculously romantic scenarios of how Dean would react when he saw Sam walking down the sidewalk. He knew that none of them would come true, but his heart beat faster anyway every time he thought about it.
Traffic was terrible all through Connecticut and New York and into New Jersey, so by the time Sam got to Brigantine it was almost midnight. He parked the truck and checked his hair in the mirror, then scoffed at himself and got out. There were a few of Dean’s colleagues on the block, but no Dean. Sam bit back his disappointment and bought himself a cup of coffee while he waited.
A few others who he didn’t recognize tried to get his attention, but Sam waved them off.
“Waiting for someone specific.”
The guy who had approached him raised an eyebrow. “I can be specific.”
Sam smiled. The man was attractive; before, Sam would have been interested. Now he didn’t even consider it. “I’m sure you can, I just – I’ve got my heart set on someone else.”
It was the truth.
The guy regarded him skeptically for another few seconds, then shrugged. “Your loss,” he said, and Sam watched his hips sway as he walked away, thought about Dean’s bowlegs.
It was almost 2 am when a Cadillac pulled up to the curb at the corner and stopped. Sam held his breath, hoping desperately. He let it out when he recognized the close-cropped brown hair and broad shoulders.
“Dean!” he called out without thinking, and Dean spun around in surprise.
Sam barely forced himself to stop short before pulling Dean into a hug. He skidded to a halt and shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly.
“Dean, hey, I was hoping you’d come back tonight. I’ve been waiting.”
“Sam,” Dean said, but he still wasn’t smiling. It wasn’t much like Sam’s fantasy.
“Yeah, it’s me. I know it’s been a long time, but I wanted to see you.”
Dean pursed his lips. Those lips. “Well, here I am.”
“You’re mad at me.”
Dean shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, why would I be mad at you? It’s not good business to be mad at customers.”
Sam cringed inwardly at the reminder, but pushed it away. “I shouldn’t have waited so long to come back, but my dad and I, we had a few big…jobs…and I couldn’t get away until now.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” Dean said, smoothing down his shirt where it was pushed up in the back. Sam wondered what he’d just been doing with the guy in the Cadillac.
“Are you – is it too late for me to, um, buy some time with you? I brought some money.”
Dean made him wait a few seconds, considering, then nodded. “Sure, Sam. I’m a little tired, but I’ll do my best to make it a good time.”
That stung too, and Sam wondered if this was a terrible idea. Somehow in the intervening four months he’d forgotten to think of Dean as someone he hired for sex and started thinking of him as a lover.
“I just wanna be with you,” Sam said. “I don’t even care what we do, I just wanna be with you.”
Dean’s expression softened then, and he motioned toward the hotel. Sam forced himself to walk slowly and calmly and tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.
“How bout a blow job?” Dean asked when they were in the room. He reached for Sam’s shirt and started to unbutton it. Just the brush of his fingers against Sam’s chest through the cotton made Sam want to cry, it felt so good.
“Whatever you want,” Sam answered, putting his hands on Dean’s waist and rubbing slow circles over his hip bones. “Can I have a kiss first though?”
Dean looked up, his eyes wide with surprise for a second before he nodded. Sam brought his hands up to cup Dean’s face and pull him in. He sighed as their mouths pressed together, just a touch of lips.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, breath caught between them, and then deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue between Dean’s lips. Dean opened for him, his whole body pressing against Sam’s, arms encircling Sam’s waist as they kissed. Their teeth clashed as the kiss went from soft and innocent to hard and needy, and Sam felt that electric charge that always set him on fire when he was with Dean start simmering low in his belly. There was nothing like this, nothing like having Dean in his arms.
Dean broke the kiss first, though it seemed like a monumental effort. He pushed Sam’s unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and let it fall, then dropped to his knees gracefully and reached for Sam’s zipper. Dean’s hands parted the fabric and tugged his jeans down his hips a little, didn’t wait to get his pants all the way off before reaching in and pulling Sam’s dick through the flap of his shorts.
“Oh god,” Sam swore, watching Dean fist his cock and then take it in his mouth greedily. He sucked Sam down almost all the way, then released him completely, working him with one hand while he grinned up at Sam.
“I love your big dick,” Dean said, licking his lips as he toyed with it, thumb rubbing slowly back and forth over the head until Sam thought he’d go crazy. “What do you want me to do, Sam? Tell me.” His eyes went heavy lidded, an image Sam knew he’d be calling up every night for a long time to come.
“Suck me,” Sam answered obediently, and Dean smirked.
“Make me,” he said, voice like a purr, and the words rocketed through Sam like someone had lit a fuse under him.
“Fuck,” Sam swore, and grabbed Dean’s head with both hands, forcing him forward and onto Sam’s cock. He opened his mouth wide and Sam plunged right in, too far, too fast, and he knew it but he couldn’t stop for a second. Dean choked hard, coughed and spluttered as Sam pulled out a little, but when Sam let go of his head, Dean pulled his hands right back again. It was a wordless command, and Sam took it, controlling the pace and depth of the blow job as Dean closed his eyes and just let Sam do it.
“God, god, you’re gonna kill me,” Sam groaned, as much from the view he had of Dean pliant and flushed all over, cheeks and ears pink from exertion. He had his eyes closed, lashes wet, but he looked almost peaceful, giving himself over to Sam’s hands.
That thought was enough to push Sam over the edge. He came unexpectedly, pulling Dean in too roughly and choking him with way too much all at once. When he let go, Dean collapsed backwards, panting heavily, tears running down his cheeks.
“Shit, are you okay?”
Sam sank down with him, one hand on Dean’s knee in concern.
Dean opened his eyes. Then rolled them. “’m fine, Sam. Nobody ever killed anyone with a blow job, you idiot.”
“I don’t know, feels like you almost killed me with one.”
Dean was sprawled on his back, and Sam had a clear view of the erection straining against his tight jeans.
“Let me,” Sam said, and ran his hands up Dean’s thighs.
“You don’t have to, that’s not part of the deal.”
“I know – I want to. Please, let me?”
Part Three