Not How I Wanted
Annaleise Marie
cross-posted from livejournal
username: girlgotagun
Full List of Kinks: a/b/o, knotting, first time, humiliation, hurt/comfort
WARNING: Dub-con? Maybe. It really depends on where you land in your moral code if a character isn't 100% in control of themselves and there's a certain amount of distress in their decision-making process. Fair warning, though.
Part One
AN: This story was originally written as a fill for a prompt in the December round on the spnkink-meme livejournal community. FFn doesn't allow links in documents, but if you want to see the original prompt you can check out my LJ, which is linked on my profile.
X
Dean stopped in his tracks as he entered the hotel room, freezing for only a beat before his hand flew to the butt of the Colt .45 tucked in the waistband of his jeans. The room was wrecked, the contents of both his and Sam's duffel bags strewn around the small space. Every drawer in the dresser, desk, and bedside tables was open, their contents dumped on the ground. And worse of all, the smell of a panicked omega hung thick in the air, making Dean's nostrils flare and muscles tense as his blood began to heat, his pulse racing.
He heard a drawer slam in the bathroom and began to creep towards the slightly-ajar door, gun leveled at the center. He heard someone moving, what sounded like them digging through his or Sam's toiletry bag. He took a deep breath to try to steady himself and instantly wished he hadn't as the smell of fear flooded him, spiking his vitals even further.
He kicked in the door, causing a startled yelp to crack through the air as the occupant of the bathroom spun and then dropped, pressing against the grimy linoleum floor. Dean recognized the figure, dropped the hand holding the gun and sunk to his knees. He felt like he was about to have a heart attack from the swirling mix of fear, aggression, and relief inside of him.
Sammy. It was just Sammy.
His relief was short-lived when he realized his brother was sobbing, his face twisted in pain as he cowered on the floor. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands, and moved towards the prone figure, trying to find any sign of injury or whatever else might be causing the omega such distress.
Mistake. Big mistake.
Under the heavy scent of fear was something sharper, more earthy-sweet. Dean knew that smell.
Heat. Sammy was in heat. Had been for awhile, judging by the mingled scent of arousal and slick. Dean felt his body start to react, his Alpha instincts kicking in and he cursed under his breath.
"Dammit, Sammy, what the hell?" Dean didn't know what else to say. Sam knew the drill. With their statuses, unless Sam was willing to accept Dean as his Alpha—a possibility that Sam had adamantly rejected his entire life—the omega needed to take suppressants. And he always had. The last time Dean had witnessed Sam in heat—real, full-blown heat—had been back when Sam first presented. That first heat had snuck up on him; John and Dean had been so sure that Sam was going to be an Alpha, like them, that the possibility of the youngest Winchester presenting as anything else never even crossed their mind until one day Dean woke up to the smell of his little brother's heat thick in the room and John pacing, hackles up, clearly agitated. John had left, commanding Dean to protect Sammy, and Dean had spent the next maddening week locked in that room as his brother alternated between screaming from the pain of his unfulfilled heat and screaming at Dean to just stay away from him.
It had hurt his pride a bit as an Alpha, if he were honest. But he got it. Sammy had just never seen him as his Alpha. Loved Dean, sure. Admired his big brother, of course. But not to the level of wanting him to take him, mate him, tie with him.
So when John returned at the end of the week he brought suppressants with him, explaining to Sam that if they were going to stay together he needed to take them, to suppress his omega scent and his heat cycle. And Sam had taken them religiously, at least until he went to Stanford. Dean had no fucking clue what he had done then. But given that Sam hadn't been bred during those four years, hadn't been mated to an Alpha, preferring to live his happy little apple pie life with Jess, a beta, Dean thought it was safe to assume that he had taken them then, too.
So why was he here now, curled on the bathroom floor, in the throes of a full heat?
"The fuck happened, Sammy?" Dean asked again.
The omega raised his head, meeting Dean's eyes with his own pain and fear-filled ones. "Forgot my suppressants at the last motel, I think. I thought I grabbed them from the bathroom but now I can't find them anywhere." His voice was barely a whimper. "God, Dean; it hurts."
"Dammit, Sammy! How could you do something as stupid as leaving them behind?" Dean noticed Sam trying to press himself even flatter to the bathroom floor with a quiet whimper, tears streaming down his face as he tilted his head to expose his neck. Fuck, Dean knew that pose. That was the reaction of an omega scared shitless, reacting the smell of anger rolling off of an Alpha. Dean sighed, lowering himself to sit cross-legged, leaning back against the open bathroom door as he focused on controlling his breathing, slowing his racing pulse. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. It had taken him a long time to learn to override his baser instincts, and it still wasn't easy, but he hated seeing his brother cowering on the floor like a common bitch. He tried to ignore the way his body was reacting to the smell of Sam's heat. He'd suffer through that for Sam; only ever for Sammy.
It was a few minutes before Sam began to relax, still whimpering in pain but no longer throwing out signals of fear. The omega curled in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and breathing heavily. "Maybe…maybe you can find them. Maybe I'm just too out of my head." The slight edge of hope in Sam's voice nearly broke Dean's heart.
"Too late, baby boy." He reached out, his eyes still closed, still concentrating on keeping his body calm and his scent low. He found his brother's head and raked his fingers through his long hair. "Even if we found them, it'd just be a waste for you to take them now." Suppressants couldn't stop an omega's heat in its tracks. Sam would just have to ride it out.
Dean could get Sam through his heat, sure. But his little brother had made it clear, all those years ago, how he felt about Dean mating him, and Dean cared too much about the kid to offer when he was clearly in such distress. He'd do it, sure. If nature gave a single fuck about them being brothers, Dean would be immune to Sam's heat, which was certainly not the case. But he wouldn't—couldn't—pressure Sam into that. Couldn't live with himself if he did.
He felt Sam shift, felt him crawl towards him, and then the omega was resting his head on Dean's thigh, nestling into the spot where his thigh met his hip, breathing deeply. Dean knew he was scenting him, using his proximity to alleviate the pain of the heat. He smirked. Maybe he should feel a little used. But he just kept running his fingers through Sam's hair, every now and then letting a soft, soothing sound slip from his throat, and soon he felt the omega drift off to sleep.
X
Dean woke hours later when Sam began to stir. He groaned in discomfort as he worked out the stiffness in his neck, courtesy of sleeping against the door. He scented the air instinctively. Sam's arousal still hung heavy around them, but the bitter edge of pain and panic had subsided slightly as the omega slept. He heard Sam inhale deeply in turn, turning his head, still half-asleep, to rub his face against his thigh, the top of his head nudging Dean's dick through his jeans.
Dean through his head back, his teeth clenched. It wasn't fucking fair. Being stuck in a room with Sammy when he was half-ruled by his baser omega instincts, seeking out a touch that he had forbidden Dean from giving him…it was just plain fucking unfair.
"Dean…" The omega's voice was barely audible but with it came a powerful increase in scent. Lust, warm and thick, washed over Dean and filled his lungs, the earthy scent of slick redoubling. Fuck, Sam had to be dripping for the smell to be that strong.
Dean worked to talk around the tightening in his throat. "Yeah, Sammy." He inhaled sharply as his brother sat up, turning onto his hands and knees and leaning in to rub his cheek against Dean's. "What're you doing, Sammy."
"Need you…" Sam's voice was a wrecked plea. "Please, Dean. Hurts. Make it stop."
Dean took a deep breath, struggling to stay in control of himself, but the words were hitting all the right buttons to make him unleash his Alpha side. "Sam…"
"Need you. Help me." Sam's voice cracked on a sob. Dean could feel his heart breaking. He was torn between wanting to save his brother, protect him from pain like he always had, and wanting to claim him, fuck him raw, knot and tie with him.
"Sammy…" Dean swallowed hard, feeling the last of his control beginning to slip. "Sammy, if you really want me to I will; but it's not just gonna be this once. I claim you, knot you, maybe breed you—that's it, you're mine." It was important for Sam to realize this. Otherwise, Dean may as well have held him down and taken him by force. "If that's not what you want, baby boy, you need to stop asking me; I'm not gonna be able to stop myself if you keep that up."
There was a length of silence as his words seemed to land in Sam's mind. He watched his brother's heat-addled mind try to make sense of them, hoped he would. Hoped he could get away quick enough if Sam said no; his control was slipping fast. He gritted his teeth.
"Dean…" Sam's voice was a soft, lilting plea, the edge of tears thickening the word, his breath hot on Dean's neck. "Mate me, please."
And with that, Dean felt the last of his control shatter into a million little pieces.
