Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You’d be a great mom,” Sam turned with a sly smile, facing Dean sitting on the bed from his spot at a chair by a wobbly motel table. “That kid really liked you,” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean bristled.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam had a mix of pity and amusement in his expression. “Like you don’t know,” Slight laughter began to bubble up. “Like you’re unaware of how kids flock to you. All those maternal instincts you push down,” Sam was fully laughing by the end. Dean was already up on his feet, shortening the distance.

“You shut the hell up,” Dean pointed an angry finger at Sam, who just started laughing harder. “I don’t have any maternal instincts. And I’m sure as hell no mother.” Dean crossed his arms to look sternly down at Sam, who clutched at his stomach from laughter. “No, if anyone here is a mother, it’s you, Sammy.”

“Yeah, alright. Whatever you say, Dean.” Sam carefully took in deep breaths to get his breathing back under control. He couldn’t stop every giggle, but he got most.

“Mhm,” Dean had a slow, kniving smile grow across his face. “Oh yeah, Sammy, you’re absolutely mother material.” Dean took another step forward, closing the gap to less than a few feet. Sam looked up at him, mildly confused. 

“Your big, wet, puppy eyes. Long, flowy hair,” Dean took the remaining steps until he was right up to Sam, legs bumping. “How you desperately try to please me,” Dean’s voice slowed and deepened to a drawl. One of his hands rose up to tuck a loose strand of Sam’s hair behind his ear. “Breedable,” His fingers savored the contact, not moving even after the job was done.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice cracked.

“Definitely mother material.” Dean leaned down while lifting Sam’s chin and brought them into a kiss. Slow and thorough at first, but grew into something more equivalent to trying to eat each other.

Dean grabbed fistfuls of Sam’s overshirt and yanked him up off his chair.

“What d’ya say, Sammy?” Dean panted into Sam’s open mouth. “You wanna get knocked up for me?”

Sam groaned.

Grinning, Dean pulled them both backward to the closest bed, just a few feet away; the motel room was tiny, even with two beds. Once the back of Dean’s legs hit the side of the mattress, he flipped them around and shoved Sam down onto the thin blanket. Sam didn’t make a move to get up, but did lean up onto his elbows, breathing heavily.

“Before marriage and everything, huh?” Sam said breathlessly.

“Now you’re just giving me ideas, Sammy,” Dean teased as he slowly dragged off his t-shirt, baring his necklace-covered chest to the shitty, faded, piss color walls, and Sam. “You in a great big dress,” He stalked forward, hands on the bed on both sides of Sam, cage-like. “Panties underneath, just waiting to be unwrapped,” Dean climbed up Sam’s body until he reached his face. “Would you do that for me, Sammy?” He cocked his head to one side. A teasing question, of course, but an almost invisible fraction of sincerity. Like Dean wasn’t actually sure.

Sam smiled and leaned up to bring their lips together, one giant hand coming up to hold the side of Dean’s neck.

“Anything for you, Dean.” Sam said with absolute truth dripping from his voice. His hand slide upward to gently stroke at the side of Dean’s cheek. Sam loved when this kind of realness seeped in, but he was also still rock-hard. His hand dropped to the pendant around Dean’s neck and took hold, pulling him down so he could whisper into his ear. “I believe you wanted to get me pregnant, though.”

Sam smirks triumphantly as Dean chokes on air. 

Dean regains control of himself and shoves Sam flat to the mattress. They both grin at each other.

“Damn right, I do,” Dean’s grin had a feral glint to it, and before Sam could blink, Dean was undressing him, pulling off the flannel, yanking the thin shirt, and dragging the jeans off, with his boxers still clinging to the denim and being dragged off as well. Sam nearly -but didn't!- squeaked at the sudden nudeness. 

“Well, you sure are eager-” Sam started but Dean interrupted him by flipping him over onto his stomach and dragging his hips up into the air, knees underneath. Like all 6’4 of Sam weighed nothing more than a paperclip. Sam definitely squeaked then.

Sam almost spoke again before he felt hot breath on the back of his thighs, moving upward to the curve of his ass. Even if he wanted to, Sam doubted he could form words once he felt the breath hit his exposed asshole. Even less so when he felt those plush lips gently kiss him there. Instead of anything even slightly coherent, Sam simply moaned. Loud.

Dean chuckled behind him, one hand coming up to knead one side.

“Speechless already?” he spoke into the soft skin. His fingers gripped and spread the cheek apart, giving Dean more access. “Come on, I’m just getting started with you,” Dean promised, then sealed it with his tongue flat across Sam’s entrance. 

Sam jerked in sensation, instantly white-knuckling the sheets underneath his upper body. Dean’s tongue traced circles around his rim, gently poking in and backing out. Loosening him. Once the muscle relaxed enough, Dean shoved as much of his tongue in as he could. Sam whined into the sheets. The warm, wet, slippery muscle licking his insides, stretching him without fingers, Sam was almost brought to tears. It wasn’t until clear signs of his closeness, full body jerks, knees trying to close, that Dean finally -or unfortunately- backed off, face leaving his ass entirely. 

“Dean,” Sam whimpered, still face down in the sheets probably stained with Sam’s not-tears. He repeated his name a few more times, just because.

“Think you’re ready?” Dean replied, sounded just as wrecked as Sam. Breathless and hoarse.

“Please,” He nodded into the sheets.

“I don’t know, Sammy, maybe you still need a little more-” Dean teased. Sam nearly burst into sobs on the spot.

“Dean!” He cried out. “Please, please just- fuck me, please, Dean,” Sam knew somewhere in his liquified brain that Dean loved when Sam begged. He practically humped the air.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered in awe behind him. He adjusted and lined himself up after spitting in his palm and smearing it onto his very hard cock. He managed to take off his jeans at some point Sam was distracted. Dean gripped himself with one hand and Sam’s hip with the other. He slowly pushed the head in, but Sam was not having it. Sam shoved himself backward, pushing his arms against the bed for leverage. Almost all of Dean’s length in one go. They both moaned, one with sudden ecstasy, one with a good amount of pleasure-pain.

Sam was nearly in child-pose with how he pushed against the bed, but Dean, after several calming breaths to make sure he didn’t shoot right on the spot, dragged both his hands along Sam’s sides placatingly. Shushing him like a startled horse. Sam eventually calmed enough to know what words leave his mouth.

“‘M good, Dean,” Sam was still breathless, but less so. He slowly stretched outward, extending his back into a mean arch, chest once again flat to the mattress. “‘M good,” he sighed.

“God, you’re something else,” Dean huffed, briefly shaking his head to himself. He carefully pulled back a few inches and gently pushed back in, repeating a couple times. But according to Sam’s not enough groan, he needed to pick up the pace. 

Dean grabbed Sam’s hips as if they were handlebars and shoved himself in and out. Sam’s legs spreading further apart on the bed was his thank you. 

Dean put his hands on both sides of Sam’s head and leaned down, pendant bumping into his back, like a gentle reminder.

“You still wanna get knocked up, baby?” He cooed.

Sam groaned and nodded his head, back arching further.

“Well, then we need to do this proper,” Dean suddenly pulled out -Sam with an indignant protest in his throat- and flipped Sam onto his back instead. He grabbed his knees and separated his legs, scooting himself back into position. Dean pushed back in while looking into Sam’s confused and very aroused expression.

Sam shut his eyes and moaned up to the ceiling. Somehow, Dean always felt bigger from this angle.

“Proper pregnancy needs romance, dontcha think?” Dean smiled lopsidedly as he leaned down to Sam’s face. His red lower lip trapped under pearly whites. Dean coerced the trapped skin free and into his own teeth, nipping away. Sam’s moan shifted into a breathy chuckle. 

“Romance is overrated,” he smiled. He reached and grabbed the sheets by his head and clenched. Dean moaned in return.

“I tried,” Dean shrugged a laugh. He grabbed one leg behind the knee and arranged it over his shoulder, while pushing the other thigh into the bed, spread farther out. Dean began to pound into Sam with no hesitancy. He put all the force he could behind each thrust, Sam scooted up centimeters each time, Sam letting out constant streams of incoherent and nonsensical noises.

Sam’s head nearly at the end of the other side of the bed, Dean finally began showing signs of nearing his finish line. His hips stuttered as his hands dragged up and down Sam’s torso, purposely avoiding Sam’s giant erection. Dean pushed both knees up to Sam’s chest, hands following the calves too, extending his legs. The internal strain squeezed Dean so perfectly, he was almost unprepared for when he came. Dean groaned as he ground down into Sam, pushing himself in deeper and riding his orgasm out. Sam merely whimpered at the pressure alone.

“Morning sickness in no time,” Dean smiled lazily down at Sam. He gave a weak snort in response.

Dean stayed smiling as he gently pulled out, letting Sam’s legs drop back down. He had to back up to avoid accidentally being kicked. When his legs opened back up, Dean realized Sam still hadn’t come, dick still hard enough to hammer nails. Dean shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“My wife will never be left unsatisfied,” Dean declared, sitting back, smiling. “You want anything specific, baby?”

Sam blushed at the name but shook his head. “Nothing specific,” he managed. Dean hummed.

“Headboard,” Dean said as he moved himself to sit against the pillows. He spread his legs and pat his stomach, telling Sam to sit against him. And of course, Sam did, even with Dean’s come starting to drip out and pendant digging mildly into his back.

“Spread ‘em,” He added, once Sam settled against his chest. And once again, Sam did. Dean hummed his thanks.

“You know, Sammy. I always thought you’d be a great parent,” He spoke the same time he grabbed hold of Sam’s free-hanging cock and began to stroke, other hand caressing his inner thigh. “Always so caring, so thoughtful,” He softly said each word with care into Sam’s ear.

Sam whimpered at the first touch but whined at the words. He really is a bitch.

“I bet you’d be somehow even more gorgeous,” A twist at the head caused Sam to almost curl inward. “Maybe a little baby bump,” Dean’s freehand kneaded his lower abdomen, about where a uterus would be. Sam’s legs shook, signaling his near-end. “And it’d be all mine, wouldn’t it, Sammy?” He whispered as he grabbed his balls and rolled them in his hand. Sam shouted his release, fullbody jerking in Dean’s arms. He softened his administrations, milking him until his come was dripping down his hands.

“You think you’d still carry if it was a mix?” Dean offered. His come covered hand snuck down below his legs and played with the loose, dripping rim. Sam shook his head in a whine.

“Don’t even- think about it,” he panted. Dean laughed softly as he removed his hand so grab a nearby discarded rag and wiped his hands.

“Okay, fine. Next time, then.” Dean smiled as he wiped down Sam as gently as he could and got them both under the sheet. “I’ll make sure it takes, next time,” Dean kissed Sam’s shoulder.

“Yeah, right.” Sam spoke already half asleep. “Next time, you’ll be so full of my come, you’ll be having old ladies asking when you’re due.”

Dean sharply inhaled behind Sam’s neck. His dick even gave a half-hearted attempt at filling out. He took one long deep breath before wording an answer, but by then he realized Sam passed out already.

Dean lightheartedly scoffed. “Bitch”