Work Text:
When Sam presented as an Omega at puberty, he’d thought his life was over.
Now that he’s fifteen and has had some time to get used to it…well, he still thinks his life is over.
He doesn’t feel like an Omega. He never has. His father and his brother are both alphas, and he knows he should be too. This is just a giant cosmic mistake, and it will fix itself soon. He knows it.
Sam can’t handle the submission of it. He can’t handle the weakness of it. The desire to be owned hits him so hard when he goes into heat that it makes him sick to his stomach, makes him want to do horrible things to himself for losing control that way. He’s a Winchester. And he’s a hunter, even if it’s reluctantly. He doesn’t need anyone else that way.
Sam is the one that will own someone else someday. Not the other way around.
And yet, it won’t go away.
Every heat is getting stronger.
A couple of years pass, and he needs to be filled now when the fever hits him. His own fingers used to work, but now he’s moved on to toys. John and Dean both pretend they don’t know what Sam’s got in the bottom of his duffel bag, pretend they haven’t accidentally caught a glimpse of whichever fake knot Sam’s using now. They are probably also pretending that they don’t see how they’ve grown in size over the last couple of years.
Sam just needs some relief.
“Sammy, sit down,” Dean says one day. John’s gone like always, and Sam can’t remember what town they’re in now, not that it matters. He was planning on heading out to see if this place has a library, but the tone of Dean’s voice tells him that his plans have changed.
“What?” he asks, a little irritated. He’s on edge all the time now, snapping at Dean even when he doesn’t mean to.
“I, uh. I wanted to talk to you.” Dean rubs at the back of his neck as he sits next to Sam on the end of the bed, where they are both facing the room instead of each other.
“About what?”
“Well. There’s, um. There’s nothing…wrong with being an Omega. You know that, right?”
Sam clears his throat nervously and shifts away from Dean on the bed. “Of course there is.”
“No, there really isn’t.” Dean’s voice is stronger now.
Sam snorts in response, his irritation simmering into actual anger now. “Whatever. Is that all?”
“No. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. That you ain’t…I dunno. Are you okay?”
“With being an Omega? Not particularly.”
Dean’s finally exasperated enough to come right out with it. “With your heats, asshat. I wanna know if you’re okay through your heats.”
“I don’t wanna talk about this with you.” Sam stands and puts some distance between them, shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at dirty Chuck Taylor’s on even dirtier carpet.
“I don’t care. I know your heats have to be getting bad, man. You’re almost eighteen. And I also know that all you use are those fucking plastic things, or whatever they’re made out of, and that those aren’t the same as the real thing. So…are you okay?”
Sam knows he’s bright red, can barely get the words through his tightly shut lips. “I’m okay, I guess.”
Dean stands up and Sam smells him. It’s not an unusual occurrence, of course, but it’s a little stronger now. Maybe Dean’s going into a rut. Or maybe Sam’s going into heat. It’s about time, and he’s always more sensitive then.
There’s something different, though. He’s always known Dean’s scent as well as his own. They’ve always kind of blended together, not quite the same, but complementary, the same blood pumping in different veins. All of a sudden, Sam can smell things he never has before, subtle flavors on the air that aren’t familiar, but that are unmistakably Dean.
His cock twitches in his jeans.
Fuck.
There’s just so much…he can smell the strength in Dean’s scent. Can smell the Alpha in it, the dominating power in it. And that’s what he’s needing. What he’s craving. What he’s desperate for.
“I need to get out of here,” he croaks, heading for the door.
Dean gets in his way. “Sam? What is it?”
“It’s nothing. Let me go.”
Dean reaches out and touches Sam’s bare forearm. “You’re burning up. Are you going into heat? I can, you know, get my own room for a couple of nights.”
“I’m going out.” It’s the first time Sam’s ever said that in this way, but he has to go. He has to find someone to fuck him, has to find someone who smells just as good as Dean to give him what he needs.
“No. It’s dangerous.”
“What?” Sam’s vision is starting to swim a little, and he can feel the fever rising inside of him, the pressure in his gut starting to hurt. “No, I- you gotta move, Dean.”
“No.” Dean’s voice is unforgiving. So is his body. Sam pushes at Dean’s shoulders, but he doesn’t flinch.
Sam’s desperate now, terrified of how quickly his body is reacting. This can’t be happening. Not right now. Not because…because of…Dean.
“Dean, please. I have to…I need to go.”
Dean doesn’t say no again. This time, he reaches out and brushes his fingers against Sam’s forehead as he pushes his hair back. Sam stills instantly, afraid of the sparks of heat shooting from his skin down to his dick.
Sam’s trembling, the scent of Dean overwhelming him, his heat erupting inside of him stronger than it ever has before, and he’s crying before he realizes it. “Dean, I need it,” he begs. “I need someone…the toys…they don’t…”
“Shhh,” Dean sooths, sliding his hand down to cup Sam’s face. “I got you, little brother.”
Sam’s eyes go wide. “Wh-what?”
“Let me help you.”
“You can’t.”
“I can if you let me. I don’t want some random Alpha fucking you, Sammy. I can’t have it.”
This is all wrong, and none of it makes sense. Sam shouldn’t be falling into Dean’s arms like he’s just been pardoned from a death sentence. Dean shouldn’t be burying his face in Sam’s hair and breathing in, shouldn’t be rubbing himself all over Sam like he’s claiming him, like he’s marking his territory.
Everything is moving too fast for Sam to think, too fast for him to get a grip on it, but somehow he’s on the bed and Dean is undressing him, shushing him as he whimpers and whines, murmuring how everything is going to be okay. Somehow, he’s spread open, all his slick dripping onto the bed as Dean roughly pulls off his own clothes, and then there his is. All of him.
Sam’s seen Dean naked before, but he’s never seen him when he’s hard, and he’s certainly never seen him like this, waves of Alpha rolling off of him as his cock jumps and jerks with its excitement.
Fuck, this is what Sam needs. He’s so wet it’s embarrassing, and he can already feel his hole opening for it, practically begging. It’s like all that heat and energy inside of him focuses and pulls toward Dean. Like everything that’s been building up is finally moving now, knowing that it’s going to get release.
“On your side,” Dean huffs, and Sam turns instantly, anything to get contact, to calm his touch-starved skin.
Oh, God, it’s better than he could have imagined when Dean presses up behind him, his skin so sensitive it almost hurts when Dean runs a hand over his ribs, around to his stomach, up to rest over his throat.
Dean’s cock is nudging against his wet hole and Sam has never felt so surrounded, has never given up control the way he does when Dean squeezes his throat just a little and pushes in barely an inch.
“Dean,” Sam gasps, “I’m gonna…I can’t…”
“It’s okay, Sammy.” Dean’s breath is as ragged as Sam’s, hot on the back of his neck in a way that makes Sam’s whole body tingle. “You can come.”
It’s not a command, but there’s enough Alpha in Dean’s voice that it might as well be, and Sam’s so drunk on all this that he needs it be. He doesn’t feel any less of a man right now for being an Omega, for being desperate and begging. He feels like himself. He feels like maybe, just maybe, he’s going to find a real release to all the tension inside of him.
So he comes. He screams and comes hard, all over the bed, all over Dean’s hand as it reaches down to gently squeeze him, to stroke him through it.
Just as he starts to pick the exploded pieces of himself back up, just as the violent shudders turn to trembling, Dean shoves all the way in, slamming his body against Sam’s with a loud smack, his knot huge and burning as it stretches Sam’s hole.
“Fuck,” Sam cries out, hand gripping Dean’s over his throat.
“Good?” Dean grunts.
“So good,” Sam whines, pushing back against Dean, clenching himself around that cock. “Fuck me, Dean.”
“I will. Just me. No other Alpha is ever gonna touch you.” Dean’s hips start to rock, little thrusts that make new beads of sweat break out over Sam’s skin.
“No one else,” Sam agrees, knowing that it’s the truth.
Dean’s teeth scrape against the back of Sam’s neck, dragging sharp and dangerous until they curve around to his pulse. Sam stops breathing as Dean pauses, flicks his tongue out, sucks a little.
“Do it,” Sam begs, thrusting back against Dean to keep the rhythm when Dean stops moving. “Claim me.”
Dean slams into Sam then, like his words sparked something inside of him, and each push is perfect, right into the spots Sam never knew needed to be touched exactly this way. Dean’s mouth never leaves Sam’s neck, just rests there, waiting.
Sam feels it when Dean’s knot starts to swell, feels his own body stretch to accommodate it, and he’s instantly hard all over again, a new wave of his heat sweeping through him. Dean gets louder, wilder, and then he’s snarling Sam’s name into his neck as he comes.
And he claims him. Dean sinks his teeth into Sam’s flesh, breaks it, and holds on as he comes. Sam comes again, from the feel of Dean inside him, from the sting of Dean’s teeth as they tug, permanently marking him.
It feels like days before Sam can calm down, sticky and sweaty and jelly-boned as Dean holds him. They lie there, knotted together, Dean quietly licking and kissing at Sam’s wound every now and then.
“Omega,” he murmurs.
“Alpha,” Sam answers automatically. Reverently.
The world is different. It feels calmer, like maybe the sky isn’t going to bust open in Sam’s veins the next time he goes into heat.
Because being an Omega isn’t something to hate any longer.
Because he has a mate now. For life. For always.