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The Games We Play

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Title: The Games We Play
Author: dimeliora
Wordcount: 2,334
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Contains: A/B/O dynamics, knotting, switching, dirty talk, blowjob, rimming
Beta(s): None this go round. The price of procrastination.
Prompt(s): Written for the smpc, but entirely the fault of clex_monkie89 who knows exactly what she did.
Disclaimer: I don't own what I built on but I own what I built.
Summary: Dean really does like it when Sam goes all alpha on him.


Dean knows the instant he hears the door slam what kind of night it’s going to be. He shouldn’t like it, knows that in reality it’s probably not healthy and certainly not that complimentary, but it works for them and that’s all that really matters. He has just enough time to prep enough that no matter what the reasoning behind Sam’s mood this will go as smoothly as it possibly can.

He waits, watching the door, and when Sam comes in the room eyes dark and nostrils flaring Dean makes his eyes big and his mouth soft. Sam’s gaze settles on him, and a dark smile curls the lips Dean knows so well.

“You ready for me sweetheart?”

They never discuss it beforehand, that would be pointless, but when Sam gets like this the only way to calm him down is to play up to the stereotypes. It should be insulting, but in reality Dean likes it when Sam goes all alpha on him. The sex is rough, without question, and the dialogue is cheesy, but it’s all worth it afterwards when he’s lying fucked out and drenched in sweat and come.

“So ready alpha. So ready for you.”

The grin turns darker, and Sam grabs his wrist and pulls him in. Dean lets himself be pulled, ducks his head down and tries to force a blush to go with the bashful expression he knows Sam likes.

“Good boy. My good boy.” Fingers push Dean’s chin until he’s looking at Sam’s face, and then that dark grin is pressed against his mouth. Sam’s kissing is always good, but when he’s like this it’s possessive and overwhelming. His mouth is hard, tongue pressing for entrance and teeth scraping Dean’s lips at intervals that mix pleasure with pain.

Sam pulls back and Dean tries to follow, but the grip on the back of his head is too tight.

“Sam, Sammy please. Please.” This isn’t the best sign. Sam only gets like this for two reasons, and this is, unfortunately, not looking like the good one.

“Your mouth is so pretty when you’re begging. If you’re the best boy for me I’ll give you a treat. Now open yourself up while you use your mouth for better pursuits.”

Yeah, definitely not the good reason.

Dean doesn’t play around when Sam’s like this, knows exactly what’s happened, and focuses on stripping with military precision. By the time he’s naked and turned back to Sam his brother is already undressed and hard. He takes just long enough to stare, lick his lips, and then he’s down on his knees and flicking his tongue against the head of Sam’s cock while his fingers seek out his wet hole.

Even angry like this Sam likes to be teased, but Dean knows exactly what his brother will say next.

“I didn’t tell you to play around I told you to be good and suck me off.”

“But Sammy,” Dean pauses to give the head a firm suck when Sam’s cock jumps at the feel of his breath. “Sammy if I tease you, you give me everything I need.”

Sam’s eyes narrow, and his fingers tangle awkwardly in Dean’s short hair.

“I know what you need.”

And he does. He leads Dean’s head to his cock, and Dean licks a stripe before opening his mouth and relaxing his jaw. Sam slides in slow and smooth, and Dean makes sure to breathe evenly through his nose and stay limp in Sam’s grip. This is about being the perfect omega, obedient and submissive, and Dean isn’t about to fail at that. Not during one of the rare times Sam is asking for it.

“Look at you. Every fucking inch of you is made for this. Perfectly designed to take a fucking knot. God you’re so wet just from sucking me off.”

Dean is wet, dripping onto his thighs as his fingers push and prod trying to make his hole wide enough for what’s coming. Sam is a big boy. He hits his prostate at the same time Sam’s cockhead presses into his throat, and Dean swallows and relaxes more even though the stimulation makes him want to tighten up and moan.

Sam, like he usually does, reads him better than he wants.

“Take your fingers out. That’s for me. Now just relax and take what your alpha gives you.”

And he does. Dean focuses on not choking, on going with Sam’s rough tugs, and in return Sam moans and grunts as he fucks Dean’s throat rough enough that tears spring to his eyes and his hands are clenched in the carpet trying not to touch himself. It shouldn’t turn him on so much, being Sam’s fuck toy, but every movement makes him hotter.

He’s got spit leaking from his lips, and Sam’s too deep to taste the pre-come no doubt leaking heavily, but he does have a mouthful of Sam’s skin, and his nose is almost touching Sam’s pubes and every breath fills him with Sam’s scent. Dean wants more, but he and Sam both know this is as deep as his brother can get.

In this hole anyway.

Then Sam’s pulling out, air flooding Dean’s lungs and his hands reflexively wiping the tears and spit off as Sam stares at him darkly before grabbing his arms and pulling him up off the floor.

“Do you want me to fuck you from behind, or do you want to ride my dick and show me your pretty cock as I knot you?”

So many good answers flood his mind, images married to them and causing his dick to jump happily as he considers the many ways Sam could take him. Instead of any of those well-worded dirty phrases Dean hears himself whimper, hands gripping Sam’s arms, and Sam’s dark grin gets predatory and vicious.

“Both. I know how much my omega likes it when his alpha manhandles him. I’ll start with you on your knees, and then pick you up, carry you on my dick, and settle you down facing me. Watch your face when I knot you so tight and fill you full of my come.”

And Dean, because he’s far past dignity at this point, whimpers again and lets himself be picked up and tossed onto the bed. He’s barely gotten his knees under himself when Sam is grabbing his hips and spreading his cheeks. His brother takes a deep whiff of him, and then Dean feels the slick and strong muscle of Sam’s tongue brush along his rim before dipping into his loose hole.

His mouth is almost as loose as his asshole at this point. Amid more whimpers and plaintive moans Dean hears himself mindlessly begging.

“Sammy, Sammy please, oh fuck alpha please. I’m ready, I’m ready alpha please knot me. Please alpha I need it. I need it so bad. I’m so fucking wet for you alpha, so please fuck me. Please.”

The tongue buried in his ass wiggles one more time, and then Sam is gone for a second, cool air hitting Dean’s asshole and reminding him how open he is before he feels the hard and hot heat of Sam’s cock head rubbing against his rim.

A second, that’s how long Dean has to prepare, and then Sam is buried balls deep in him and letting out one deep moan as long fingers tighten on Dean’s hips so hard he’s sure he’ll be bruised. Dean knows what’s going to happen next, or he thinks he does, but Sam’s voice breaks his headspace and throws him into something just short of sexual frenzy.

“Don’t come Dean. Your prize for taking my cock just right is that after I’m finished filling you up I’m gonna let you fuck me. So don’t you fucking come baby you got me?”

The best he can do is nod. His voice is already wrecked from the throat fucking, his brain incapable of thinking of better than pleas, and now all the blood from his head is in his throbbing and neglected dick.

When Sam starts moving the friction is only increased by the fact that Dean is clenching rhythmically, working Sam’s cock in the hopes that his brother will get there sooner. Dean really doesn’t want to come too soon and lose his prize.

There’s no work required on his part beyond trying to speed up Sam’s orgasm. His brother has his knees lifted from the bed, hands on Dean’s hips moving him along Sam’s cock as he brutally fucks him. Sam’s balls slap against him, the wet squelching of Sam’s dick and the broken moans and grunts they’re making the only sounds in the room.

And then there’s no bed at all, no more pillowcase rubbing his face, instead Dean is moving through the air and Sam’s big dick is sliding back until only the head is still in and swiveling to open Dean more as Sam twists him around. Dean’s sliding back down seconds later, his thighs shaking so hard it’s a wonder he can stay up at all.

Sam knows it too, his smile says he likes it, but the strain around his mouth tells Dean that he’s just as close.

“Don’t come. Be a good boy and don’t come. I’m so close to giving you what you need. Just ride me.”

He’s played through the pain before, and he can do it again now. Dean shakily lifts himself and then slides back down, finds a rhythm he can sustain as Sam’s cock presses on his prostate and pushes him closer and closer to the edge. He digs his fingers into Sam’s toned chest, presses hard, and twists his hips on the down stroke.

It’s the end of Sam’s control, and his brother grabs his hips and holds him down as he pushes up into Dean and roars out his orgasm. Dean can feel Sam filling him up, slicking his insides, and he keeps clenching until Sam’s orgasm is at the very end, his brother’s chest flushed and heaving with the exertion.

Dean can’t wait, wants to bask in the afterglow, but goddamn it’s time to come. He slips off of Sam’s dick, feels come and lube smearing his thighs, and then lifts Sam’s legs and slides in.

“Holy shit. Holy shit Dean you’re already-“ Sam’s voice cracks and trails off, and Dean understands why. Even with his brother’s natural slick he should have been stretched more before Dean’s knot got this big. But that’s past now, and Dean’s brain can’t function anymore.

“I know. I know I’m sorry Sammy but you knotted me so good.”

Sam’s eyes roll back a bit and he arches as Dean’s half-inflated knot pushes at his rim begging entrance.

“Shut up. That game’s-holy fuck Dean.”

He’s in, Sam’s tight and hot around him, and what little swelling he needed for his knot to be fully inflated is finished in seconds. He’s tied already, and so close that there’s pain attached to the pleasure. He needs to come, but he needs Sam to say something first.

Dean presses his face against Sam’s neck, nips softly, and then murmurs right in Sam’s ear, “Can I come alpha?”

There’s always tension in these moments. When Sam has been riled up so badly he wants to take control, but still needs to be himself. Sam could deny Dean’s offer, and if he does the post-sex afterglow will be tainted by whatever weight Sam is carrying with him right now. If he takes the gesture, if he lets Dean give him this, then it means whatever is hurting Sam Dean did at least a little bit to ease it.

Sam’s teeth scrape Dean’s mating mark, and then he presses his lips against the spot and murmurs, “Yes.”

And that’s it, Dean is unloading into Sam, toes curling against the mattress and arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Sam twists a little underneath him, a soft cry escaping him, and Dean is fairly certain that Sam’s having a second orgasm although he knows better than to ask.

Instead he basks in it, the grip of Sam’s arms around his back and sweaty mess of his brother underneath him. They’re both covered in fluid, Sam’s scent strong and twisting with Dean’s, and there’s never a moment better than this as his head fuzzes out and then slowly clears and the aftershocks work their way through him.

Dean turns them as much as he can and settles comfortably into Sam. He’s still pumping, but that’s secondary to being sure that Sam is ok. He takes another deep breath of that wonderful smell, and then nuzzles Sam’s neck gently.

“Tell me about it?”

Sam scoffs once, voice thick with condescension and bitterness. “Fucking sheriff. Told me to come back with my alpha partner if I wanted cooperation.”

Dean’s fingers tangle in Sam’s soft hair, massage his scalp, and Sam relaxes a bit more against him.

“What a stupid asshole.”

The roles they play when Sam’s been reminded again that he’s an omega in a world that thinks less of him for it aren’t realistic, have no connection to how they are with each other, but the whole game is somehow cathartic for Sam when this happens. Sam gets a little bit of his pride back, and Dean gets to give that to him.

“Yeah. Stupid asshole.” Sam’s face presses against him harder. It’s a thank you, an I love you, and most importantly an I forgive you. Because Dean, whether he likes it or not, is part of the system that holds Sam down. That makes him feel bad for being taller than he’s supposed to be, for looking alpha and acting alpha but smelling omega.

Dean presses kisses against Sam’s shoulder, his neck and the moles he can reach. He nuzzles Sam’s neck again, smiles when Sam nuzzles him back, and hopes that anything he can give Sam will take. That the games he plays to help Sam will be enough.