Dirty Dancing
Summary: Dean buys Sam a lap dance for as a surprise his eighteenth birthday, but when Sam arrives back at the motel room and finds Pamela and Dean waiting for him, there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. Dean’s booked a little more than just a lap dance, and now the boys are in for a night they’ll never forget.
Pairing: Dean x Sam x Pamela / Dean x Sam Rating: 18+ Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha!Pamela, Unpresented!Sam, Omega!Dean, Sam is 18, Happy Birthday Sam, Dean buys Sam a lap dance, Dean has a voyeur kink, Voyeurism, Lap Dance, Stripping, Prostitution, Dry Humping, P in V, Masturbation, P in A, Knotting, First Time Word Count: 5,160
Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Dean/Sam/Pamela | @spndeanbingo - Lap Dance | @samwinchesterbingo - Voyeurism | @spnabobingo - Lavender/Chamomile/Cannabis | @j3bingo - Stripper AU
“Dean? Sam calls as he opens the door to the motel room they’d checked into earlier that morning. He’s carrying the food Dean had sent him out to pick up: Sam had chosen a sandwich shop down the street that smelled incredible when he walked by. But it looks like he didn’t bring enough food back, because there’s someone else in the room with Dean.
“Uh, h-hi?” Sam stammers awkwardly as he closes the door behind him, sandwich bag dangling awkwardly from his hand.
The woman standing with Dean is very pretty: dark brown hair with messy waves, big flirty lashes and big shiny lips. Her top is too small, riding up over her waist and leaving a significant gap of skin on show above the tight jeans slung low on her hips. She’s obviously older than both himself and Dean but that certainly hasn’t diminished her beauty.
“Hiya, handsome,” she smiles at Sam and winks lasciviously. Sam’s jaw drops for a moment before he regains control of his own muscles.
“Happy birthday, Sammy!” Dean spreads his arms wide, as if shining a spotlight on their female guest, and now Sam is really confused.
“Huh?”
“Happy birthday, Sammy,” the woman purrs, stalking forwards towards Sam, a wide smile on her red-painted lips. Her heels click ominously on the linoleum as she corners him against the counter of the kitchenette in their room. Sam hurriedly puts down the bag of food he’s still carrying so he can defend himself.
“Dean, what’s happening?” he asks, slightly panicked, the pitch of his voice climbing higher than he cares to admit.
“Jeez, I thought you were the smart one, Mr. Going-to-college-this-fall,” Dean scoffs in annoyance. “How many times do we have to say ‘Happy Birthday’ for you to understand that this is your birthday present?”
“But, my birthday was last week,” Sam stammers weakly in a confused protest, staring pointedly over the shoulder of the woman who still had him pinned against the counter between her arms. Out of the corner of his eye though, Sam notices he has the perfect view of her cleavage down the top of her shirt.
“Yeah, and we were neck deep in ghoul guts in the middle of friggin’ nowhere, there weren’t many options on the ground for present shopping,” Dean explains with a shrug, picking up the beer that he’d put down on the dresser he’s leaning against. “So I’m a few days late with your present, sue me, but trust me, Pamela here will be worth the wait,” he grins, clearly checking out her ass, and Sam shivers at how skeevy his older brother is being right now. Dean was ridiculous sometimes.
“Dean’s right about that, baby,” Pamela uses a single finger to pull Sam’s head back around so he’s looking into her hazel eyes. “I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”
The finger on his face traces across Sam’s throat as he swallows nervously, then makes its way teasingly down his chest to tuck into the waistband of his jeans, and that’s when he finally jumps away from her touch.
“Calm down, sugar,” Pamela laughs. “I don’t bite, unless you’re kinky,” she winks.
Sam gapes, dumbfounded. Dean snorts into his beer. Rounding angrily on his brother, Sam indicates that he needs to speak to Dean privately with a jerk of his head, and his older brother follows him languidly to the other side of the room, shooting Pamela a grin as they pass her.
“What the hell, dude?” he demands in a harsh whisper as soon as they’re on the other side of the room, hopefully far enough away that Pamela can’t hear him.
“Am I the best big brother or what?” Dean flexes his eyebrows in delight, obviously expecting some profuse thank you from his little brother. Instead he gets a pretty meaty punch in the shoulder, knocking his beer back into his chest. “Hey! Watch it!”
“Dean, did you seriously hire a prostitute for my birthday?” Sam hisses through clenched teeth, flashing the woman in question an awkward smile as movement in the corner of his eye draws his attention towards her. She flutters her fingers at him in a vixen’s wave and Sam swallows thickly.
“She’s not a prostitute,” Dean rolls his eyes in exasperation. “She’s a stripper.”
Like the distinction makes this whole situation okay.
“Oh goody, we’re just gonna sit here together while she gets naked for us? How is that a birthday present?” Sam is incredulous, what the fuck was Dean thinking?
“No,” Dean draws out the word like it should be obvious that’s not the plan. “I got you a lapdance, and dude, let me tell ya-” he drops his voice lower and glances around as if he’s all of a sudden worried about being overheard, “-she’s good at ‘em.”
Sam’s expression drops into his patented little-brother-bitch-face. “You already got a lapdance from her, didn’t you?” His tone is obviously unimpressed, and Dean’s guilty shrug tells Sam all he needs to know.
“Dean,” he asks slowly, something occurring to him, “did she sell you my birthday present while you were getting your lapdance?” Dean looks even guiltier. “So you weren’t gonna get me anything for my birthday; you went and got yourself a lapdance while I went out to pick up some food, and you got conned by the stripper into buying more dances, didn’t you?”
“Do you have to ruin what could be a very nice brotherly bonding moment?” Dean huffs, taking a sip from his beer in frustration as Sam rolls his eyes in exasperation.
“Oh bo-oys,” Pamela calls in a sing-song tone from across the room, and Sam and Dean both turn from their argument immediately, gawping at what they see.
Pamela’s sitting on top of the dresser, legs swinging playfully - bare legs - she's removed her jeans and the tiny tank she’d been wearing, leaving her in nothing but her strappy black stilettos and hot pink, lacey lingerie. Teasingly, she places her hands on her knees, and Sam notices the long talon-like red nails digging into her pale flesh as she spreads her legs, showing off the tiny band of her thong pressed closely over her mound. The scent of her Alpha pheromones wafts towards them now that she has so much skin on show and Sam doesn’t struggle to identify the different components.
The aroma is strong, floral but not pretty, more earthy: lavender, Sam’s sure, and the softer touch of chamomile - both herbs he knows well from their work and their uses in protective charms. They’re aromas that feel safe. Then beneath those dominant top notes is something achingly sweeter, like the smoke of burning sage has started to envelope the room, but it’s more cloying, the scent sticking in his throat: weed. Sam scoffs to himself internally; he understands why Dean was so drawn to Pamela in the first place. Next to him, his omega brother is practically salivating, and Sam can scent the arousal rolling off him in waves.
And Sam’s not entirely unaffected by the scents permeating the room either. He can feel his blood beginning to channel south as a result of staring at the beautiful, nearly naked woman, and he shifts from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Pamela holds out her hand and beckons Sam forward, flicking on the CD player sitting next to her on the flimsy pine furniture she’s perching on.
A light drum beat overwrought with the clarinet and brass of a burlesque band begins to play loudly, and Sam finds himself following Pamela’s siren call, taking her outstretched hand and helping her to hop down from the dresser. She presses her front against his in a jolt, and Sam’s hands come up to catch her, his fingers easily wrapping themselves around her shoulders. Her attitude might be alpha but God, she sure is tiny, Sam thinks in the split second he’s holding her, until suddenly she’s pushed him backwards with a hard shove and his knees give out when they hit the edge of one of the crappy motel beds.
“You just sit there like a good boy,” Pamela pokes a red nail into Sam’s chest, and he finds himself nodding, not at all curious as to what she would do if he disobeyed. Typically Sam balks at anyone giving him orders, but he’s finding he doesn’t mind so much if it’s Pamela doing it; especially not when she’s straddling him on her knees so her cleavage is directly in front of his face.
Peripherally, Sam is aware that Dean has sat down on the next bed over and is presumably watching the show. Sam spares just a second to think about how weird that is before Pamela shoves him with both hands so he lands flat on his back, an ominous creek groaning from the mattress springs beneath them. She crawls slowly up his body in time to the music, her hips dipping on alternate beats so the front of her panties skim over Sam’s own crumpled clothing.
When they’re face to face, Pamela grinds back, finding Sam’s now full-fledged erection easily, like it’s a homing beacon, and begins twisting herself teasingly over the bulge in the denim between his legs.
“Fuck,” Sam swears under his breath, forcing his eyes to focus so he can watch every twitch, every roll, every twist that Pamela is performing on top of his prone body. Dean hadn’t lied, Pamela knows what the fuck she’s doing. He’s nothing more than a stage for her to work on. I’ve even got a pole she can use, Sam thinks wryly to himself, unable to deny how much this is turning him on.
“I heard that, Sam,” Pamela whispers breathlessly in his ear, and Sam jumps in surprise, his hips bucking beneath her as she grinds down on top of him again, pulling a groan of appreciation from his chest. “You’re right, you do have quite the pole down here,” she grins up at him lecherously.
“H-how… did you?” Sam pants, confused and mildly terrified that this woman apparently just read his thoughts.
“Dean forgot to mention I’m a psychic, too, didn’t he,” she laughs, eyes flicking to the side where Dean is lounging back against the pillows on the second bed, beer held loosely and forgotten in his fist as he drinks in the show instead.
“Uh, yeah,” Sam turns a glaring eye on his older brother, who only shrugs, not even bothering to look apologetic.
“Don’t worry, honey,” Pamela turns Sam’s head back to look at her, smiling broadly. “I can’t read your mind all the time, it’s just, that thought was particularly loud,” she giggles, ghosting her lips over Sam’s. “And so was that thought,” she whispers ruefully, before kissing him. Sam had indeed just been thinking about how soft and kissable her lips looked, and how badly he wanted to bite them. Pamela’s doing a very good job of making his thoughts come to life.
This must be why she’s so fucking good at her job. No wonder she’d conned Dean into buying more dances, she’d known exactly which buttons to press to make him putty in her oh so soft hands. A disgruntled noise from somewhere in the distance alerts Sam to Dean’s presence again, and he breaks off the kiss with Pamela with a final bite to her lower lip and looks around, face flushed and breath heaving.
“You sure thought a lot about Dean just then for someone who’s kissin’ me,” Pamela bends and whispers in Sam’s ear, quietly enough that he knows Dean hasn’t heard her.
Sam’s grip on her shoulders flexes instinctively. It’s the truth, he and Dean have spent their whole lives being so attuned to one another’s presence that if their brother was anywhere nearby it was almost like a constant background noise in their minds; just an endless loop of Dean. Sam. Dean. Sam. Dean. Sam. They couldn’t help it anymore, it was a reflex. It was part of them.
“How come he gets a kiss and I didn’t?” Dean whines petulantly, making Pamela and Sam laugh against one another.
“Because it’s his birthday,” Pamela purrs, lips teasing over Sam’s throat while her eyes are fixed on his older brother. “And because you bought your baby brother way more than a lap dance, Dean,” she giggles, her eyes twinkling.
“He what?” Sam startles beneath the stripper, and Dean chokes on his beer.
“S-sorry,” he coughs, “I what?”
“You kept sayin’ how much of a shame it was that poor little Sammy was going off to college a virgin,” Pamela pouts sympathetically, and Sam shoots a glare at his older brother. She shimmies her way down Sam’s body again, still in time to the music, pulling the snaps of his shirt open one by one as she goes. “And then you handed over all that money you won at pool, well that was worth far more than a lapdance, honey.”
Sam’s breath goes ragged as Pamela flicks open the edges of his shirt, exposing his bare chest. His heart feels like it might break his rib cage with how hard it’s hammering against the bones. Panicking, he flicks his eyes over to Dean, who’s watching the proceedings with a slack jaw and wide, glazed eyes. When the brothers lock eyes, they both swallow visibly.
“If you promise to be a good boy, you can join in too,” Pamela grins towards Dean, holding out a hand in invitation. Sam’s eyes dart between the stripper and his brother, curious as to how this will play out. His brother’s always had a weakness for alpha women, and Sam can see just how much she’s affected him already evidenced in the tight bulge of his jeans. But to his surprise, Dean shakes his head slowly, blinking rapidly like he’s waking himself up from a dream before answering.
“I-I’m good here,” Dean’s voice quakes, far more breathless than Sam’s ever heard it, and with a jolt he realises that this must be how Dean sounds when he’s turned on: delicate, meek, enraptured. He likes the sound.
“Suit yourself,” Pamela shrugs with a smirk on her face before turning back to Sam. “Now, what does the birthday boy want for his present?”
Dean’s eyes glaze over and his field of vision goes hazy as he watches Sam and Pamela on the next bed. The music she’s put on has a seedy, undeniably sexy beat, and the way her hips are rolling over Sam’s is hypnotising. Her alpha pheromones are intoxicating, just like they had been back at the club he’d picked her up from, but here, in this tiny room with just the three of them, the scent is even more overwhelming. And mixed with the warm, undefined undertones of Sam’s markers, Dean was in heaven.
Part of him desperately wants to join in, but he won’t; not in the way Pamela had offered at least, not at first. This is for Sam, Sammy’s first time as a real man, a boy deserves keeping that for himself. Although Sam won’t be keeping it totally to himself; Dean still fully intends to stay on this bed. To watch out for him. Pamela was a strange alpha after all, and a psychic one at that, he couldn’t leave Sam alone, just in case there was any danger.
Just in case.
“Now, what does the birthday boy want for his present?” Pamela purrs, eyes fixed back on Sam, and Dean sees Sam blush from his cheeks all the way down his chest. It turns his skin the same kissable pink as his lips and Dean feels himself flush at the thought. He’s been having feelings like that about Sam for longer than he’d like to admit, particularly considering his baby brother only turned eighteen last week.
Sam hasn’t even presented yet, and it’s rare these days to present as anything other than a beta, like their Dad is. Their mom had been, and their grandparents so far as Dean knew. He’s the odd one out of their messed up little family unit. Chances are Sam would present as a beta too and then it wouldn’t matter how kissable Dean thinks his lips are, because Dean needs an Alpha. And the alpha in the room is currently grinding on top of his little brother, pulling sickeningly sweet moans from between his soft lips.
Dean feels rather than hears the groan bubble up within his chest and drops a hand to his crotch, where his dick has been throbbing, untouched in its confines, for longer than he can handle. His fingers knead over the bulge and ease some of his tension as he watches on, but as he shifts on the bed to find a more comfortable position, and eases his zipper down, he becomes aware of a different problem: he’s getting wet.
Jesus fucking Chris now is not the time to go into heat.
“I think your brother is enjoying the show,” Pamela croons in Sam’s ear, but it’s loud enough that Dean hears her too. The light teasing in her tone has him blushing in embarrassment, but also gets him leaking even more. She must have heard his panicked thoughts of a moment before.
Sam’s head flops to the side, his dishevelled hair splayed out around his head like a crown of sandy curls, his eyes bright with excitement and dark with lust. His mouth falls open in a shocked little sigh as Pamela’s hands drag down his bare chest and dig into the waist of his jeans, pulling open the button and peeling him out of his remaining clothing. Sam’s chest is heaving with deep breaths, showing off the tone of his chest and his stomach muscles. Dean finds himself imagining he can smell the sweat that’s beading on his throat and dripping temptingly down his clavicle.
“Why don’t you take care of that little problem you’ve got there, Dean?” Pamela suggests in a raspy voice, once again dragging her body up over Sam’s. “We don’t mind, do we Sammy?” she nuzzles at his throat and kisses down the straining tendons pressing tightly against his skin, licking away the sweat Dean had been eyeing up so greedily a moment before. He groans in equal measures of jealousy and lust.
“Y-yeah,” Sam pants, and Dean’s eyes snap to his little brother’s instantly, locking his gaze with his own. “S’fine, Dean. Can scent you from all the way over here, know you want to.”
Like it had always been Sam’s permission he was waiting for, Dean doesn’t waste another second before he’s lifting his hips and shoving his jeans and boxers down out of the way, groaning when the pressure over his cock is finally released, and it springs up to smack dully against his stomach.
“Ooh, what a pretty little omega,” Pamela coos, her cheek pressed to Sam’s as they both stare at him from across the thin aisle of grey carpet separating their two beds. Dean’s desperation falters under their gaze and he squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment before finally letting a hand drop to his cock and gripping it firmly. “Don’t let all that slick go to waste, boy,” Pamela laughs huskily, and Dean groans, dipping his fingers lower between his legs to gather up some of his wetness and dragging it back up to his cock to ease the slide of his hand.
“Think you’ll start slicking up one day?” Pamela’s question is directed at Sam now, as she kisses her way down his stomach towards his dick. “Or do you think this here will bulk up and pop a knot?” Her hand wraps around the base of his cock and twists, stroking him teasingly. Dean remembers how soft her hands are, he bets they feel amazing jerking Sam off like that.
“Although,” Pamela muses, “you’re already pretty big, aren’t ya Sammy? What do you think, Dean?”
“Uh,” Dean clears his throat, his hand faltering in its strokes, “y-yeah.” He swallows painfully.
“Take a proper look, Dean,” Pamela straightens up, Sam’s cock in her hand, stroking it gently so it’s standing straight up from his hips. Sam’s groans and throws his head back when she twists her fingers around the tip and squeezes.
“Fuck,” Sam shudders, his hips jerking beneath her touch.
“Are ya– ya just gonna tease him the whole time?” Dean manages to grunt, his own hand still preoccupied with his dick while his eyes are glued to his baby brother’s. “Thought you promised him a big night?”
“You’re pretty mouthy for an omega,” Pamela smirks.
“Yeah, he’s a pain in the ass,” Sam grunts with a laugh. “But uh, y-you are gonna do more than tease me, right?” he asks nervously, clearly getting more and more desperate by the second.
“Oh, you want more?” Pamela asks sweetly, fluttering her lashes down at Sam. “You want me to fuck you baby?”
“Oh, God yeah,” Sam groans, hips twisting beneath her as she straddles his waist. “Fuck, please,” he’s panting heavily, fists balled into the comforter beneath him.
“Hold yourself up for me, baby.” Pamela reaches for one of Sam’s hands and wraps it around his cock, holding himself erect, before pushing her own hand between her legs and pulling the pink lace to one side, revealing her glistening wet folds. She bends her hips and swirls herself over the head of Sam’s cock, making him toss his head back in pleasure.
“You ever felt a pussy before?” Pamela asks curiously, still teasing Sam. Dean reaches between his legs and lets his fingers begin to play with his own entrance. Sam shakes his head violently, clearly trying to hold himself back from sheathing himself inside of the one currently poised on top of him. “Well, happy birthday, Sammy,” she grins widely, and finally sinks her hips down over his cock, enveloping him in the warmth of her body.
“Oh my God,” Sam nearly shouts, hips flexing instinctively and fucking himself up into Pamela. His hands reach out to grab her hips, fingers digging firmly into the flesh and almost certainly bruising it. He uses her body like a rag doll, slamming her down against him over and over, and Pamela is moaning like it’s the first time she’s ever been fucked, rather than Sam’s first time. It’s like as soon as he was inside her some instinct took over and erased the nerves that had clearly been there not long before. Dean finds himself very much wishing that it was him Sam was fucking like that, and not Pamela.
“Holy shit,” Dean groans, feeling himself getting too close to the edge just watching them. He lets go of his cock entirely, spreading his legs more so he can get a finger inside himself. He sighs in relief when he finally has something inside, his body has been craving it this whole time.
“Sam, oh God that feels amazing,” Pamela moans, fucking herself back into Sam’s thrusts, her tits bouncing enticingly in her lacy bra. She looks divine, losing herself in the rapture of Sam’s lust. “Fuck, you’re a natural, Sammy,” she laughs breathlessly, and it melts into another moan that Sam echoes. Dean has to agree, Sam looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. There’s a look of hungry determination in the lines of his face, his eyes pulled shut against the waves of overwhelming pleasure he must be feeling.
In a sudden burst of motion, Sam and Pamela roll over, Sam growling roughly as he paws at her breasts and tears the cups of her bra loose, letting her perky breasts spring free. They’re the perfect size to fit in the palms of his hands and he uses that to his advantage, holding her down while he fucks into her ruthlessly.
“Fucking… fuck,” he pants, his eyes screwing up with effort, groaning as Pamela wraps her legs around his waist and arches into his thrusts. “Wh– what’s happening? Fuck!” Sam doubles over Pamela’s body, his head burying itself in the crook of her neck.
Dean lets out a bark of laughter in shock.
“C’mon Sammy, don’t tell me you’ve never busted a nut before! Fucking hell, you’re more of a virgin than I thought.”
“Shut up!” Sam growls, turning a glare towards his older brother, and Dean recoils, though his cock jumps against his stomach in arousal. Sam’s eyes are nearly slits, and that growl was an actual growl. Something isn’t right.
“Sam,” Pamela groans, petting his hair gently while he continues to fuck her hard into the mattress. “Sam, honey, pull out.”
“No,” Sam answers in a whining growl, rutting against Pamela sharply.
“Sammy, a woman tells you to pull out, you pull out,” Dean chides. “I don’t care how good their pussy feels.”
“No!” Sam growls again, but Pamela shushes him, trying to calm his rutting.
“Sam, baby, ya gotta pull out. I can’t give you what you need right now, you won’t fit,” Pamela tries to reason with him, but her words don’t make any sense to Dean, and apparently not to Sam either because he asks:
“What are you talking about?” in a breathless whimper. It almost sounds like he’s in pain.
“You’re trying to knot me, Sam, but it’s not gonna fit. I’m an alpha, too, remember? My knot won’t let yours in.”
“W-what?” Sam’s fucking finally comes to a standstill, and he props himself up on his elbows, looking down at the woman beneath him.
“You’re presenting,” Dean answers, suddenly understanding what’s happening. “Fuck, Sammy, you’re an alpha?” His own dick twitches again at the thought.
“I… I–” Sam looks back to Pamela for answers, and she nods kindly.
“It’s okay baby, it’s good. But I’m not gonna get you where you need to go right now, you need to pop that knot before you hurt yourself,” Pamela explains, sneaking a hand between their bodies and pulling Sam’s cock out from between her legs. Dean can see the bulge beginning to form at its root and his mouth waters.
“Sammy.” He doesn’t mean to say it, but he has now, and his little brother is looking at him with wide, scared eyes.
“Dean…”
Dean reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it up over his head, then pushes his jeans the rest of the way down his legs. When he’s completely naked, he turns over to his hands and knees, presenting his hole to his baby brother. Then he takes a deep breath and waits, his heart climbing higher and higher in his throat the longer the silence in the room stretches on.
“Dean,” Sam breathes again, and his voice is closer now, though Dean hadn’t heard him get up off the other bed.
“Take it, Sammy,” Dean tells him, pitching his knees wider to spread himself out more in Sam’s view. He feels himself leaking down his thigh, fuck, he hasn’t been this wet since he fucking presented four years ago. “Take what ya need, Sam, c’mon.”
A beat. Silence. And then–
“Fucking mine,” Sam growls, and he launches himself at Dean, climbing onto the bed on his knees and rutting his cock between the globes of his brother’s ass until the tip catches against his rim and finally– finally –pushes in. “Mine,” Sam groans again as he sinks into Dean’s body, folding himself over his back and nosing against Dean’s neck.
There’s new scents making themselves known in the room now, but Dean can’t pull apart the different components of them. All he can smell is Sam and home and right. And that’s all he needs.
“Yours, Sammy,” Dean moans wantonly as Sam’s cock skates clumsily over his prostate. “All yours, just take it.”
“You… fucking… take it,” Sam snaps; his hips hammering into Dean’s ass, the sounds of flesh clapping together easily drowning out the fading music from Pamela’s CD player in the far corner. Dean wants to laugh at how fucking bratty Sam’s being but it comes out as a groan as Sam hits his prostate once again.
“Fuck yes! Yes, Sam, there. Just there,” he begs, arching his back to force Sam’s cock over the spot he needs it, feels his dick throbbing between his legs as his balls draw up tight against his body. “Shit, Sammy, make me cum. C’mon baby, so close… fucking hell…”
“Mm – fuck – ‘mega, feel so good,” Sam whines, his rhythm faltering as his brother clenches around him, and Dean can feel Sam’s knot pushing at his rim, fighting his body to let him in.
“Harder, Alpha. Fuckin’ knot me baby brother, please,” Dean moans, shifting his hips back into Sam as hard as he can. The knot begins to breach him, but not hard enough to lodge into his body, which pushes Sam back out instinctively recoiling against the too-big intrusion.
“Say it again,” Sam grunts. “Beg- beg me for it ‘mega. Beg me for my knot.”
“Give me your knot Alpha, c’mon. Need it, need you t’knot me, nee– fuck, Alpha, yes!” Dean whimpers, his cock twitching between his legs and spurting in jerks onto the comforter beneath him. “Fuck, Sam,” he pants, hips jerking back on his brother’s knot as he releases inside him, groaning heavily into Dean’s neck, shaking against his back in stunned silence with the strength of his climax.
“Jesus Christ, Dean,” Sam groans, rolling his hips and pulling another aftershock from Dean’s spent body.
“Calm down, Sammy,” Dean winces, too sensitive to keep going right now. “Can we uh, lay down or summin’? My knees are killin’ me.”
“Here, you two.” Pamela’s voice shocks both boys out of their reverie. To be honest Dean had forgotten she was even still here. She’s rearranging the pillows at the head of the bed and pulling up the blanket so they don’t have to lay on the comforter Dean had gotten cum all over.
“You’re gonna be tied for a while, since it’s his first. Get comfy and I’ll get you some water, okay?”
Dean feels Sam nod blearily against his back, and they carefully shuffle up the mattress and lay down on their sides, Sam’s arms wrapping around Dean like a teddy bear. Pamela produces a bottle of water from somewhere and hands it to Dean, who takes a few sips and passes it behind him to Sam, who does the same.
“You boys gonna be alright?” Pamela asks, shouldering her duffle bag, now carrying her CD player and whatever other accessories she’d brought with her. She’s wearing her jeans and cropped tank top again, no longer displaying her lacy lingerie.
“Uh, yeah, we’ll be alright,” Dean murmurs, and Sam hums in agreement. “I’ll take care’a him.”
“I have no doubt about that,” she smiles down at them sweetly, then leans down to give Sam a kiss on top of his head. “Well, I did promise you a night you’ll never forget, didn’t I baby?”
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