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Bite	By : rae_roberts Category: Supernatural > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 4187 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and make no profit from this story. Just borrowing Sam and Dean for fun.

Chapter List
- 1-Bite
- 2-Ring
- 3-Rape
- 4-Taken
- 5-Finished
- 6-Grind
- 7-Ride
- 8-Submission
- 9-Sixty-nine
- 10-Flashback I
- 11-Mirror, Mirror
- 12-Hoodoo
- 13-Confession
- 14-Flashback II
- 15-Home
- 16-The End
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Some things never changed. The grout between the shower tiles was black with mildew and the water pressure was barely strong enough to produce a trickle. At least the water was nice and hot. Dean Winchester was going to look on the bright side, here. He’d been sucked into a parallel universe, some sort of sick, alternate reality where about a quarter of the population were infected with lycanthropy. Before he’d fully gotten his bearings he’d been bitten by a rogue werewolf and infected, too.
At least he’d found his brother Sam, or rather, his not-brother Sam. In this universe, Sam Winchester, demon-blood-tainted ‘special child’ was Sam Winchester, pure-blood ‘alpha wolf’. Talk about a kick in the teeth. All in all, though, Dean had to admit his alternate-reality monster of a not-brother seemed to be a decent guy, still saving people, hunting things… Carrying on the family business.
Dean looked over his shoulder, gingerly probing the claw marks that raked across his upper back. The deep gashes, along with the vicious bite torn into his left trapezius, were already well on their way to being completely healed. Proof that he was a monster, now, too. At least the wounds had stopped hurting like a son of a bitch. ...Looking on the bright side.
He lazily soaped his body, taking in the other changes, subtle but unmistakable. The rough life of a hunter had always kept him fit, but unlike Sam’s health-nut, demon-enhanced physique, Dean’s muscles had always been less defined, less showy, the kind that resulted from hard labor instead of body-building. And although he’d never have admitted it, a life-long diet of greasy burgers, beer, and slabs of pie had taken their toll around his midsection. He wasn’t fat by any means, but his belly was comfortably rounded. Or had been, until the werewolf bite. Now he was sporting a six-pack.
Werewolf-Sam hadn’t mentioned that side effect. He hadn’t mentioned a couple of things, like the inch or more of length Dean was pretty sure he’d somehow gained to his cock. Not that he’d been under-endowed before, he thought with a smirk, but now he had the proportions to get a job starring in porn. He fisted the base of it, giving it a firm stroke under the warm drizzle of the shower. Thick and veined, it leapt to full hardness in an instant at the attention.
Dean stroked himself again and then again, keeping his fist loose with an effort, teasing his eager cock with a slow, light touch. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the werewolf bite had done more than just bulk up his muscles and lengthen his cock. He had to bite his lip to stop a moan of pure delirium from bursting out and cueing Sam in to what his not-brother was up to in the shower. His cock—hell, his whole body—was ultra-sensitive. Each droplet of water flowing over his skin was a caress, each touch of his fingers gripped around his aching cock threatening to drag another low, desperate growl from his throat.
He gripped harder, stroking faster, setting a rhythm that his hips insisted on echoing. Dean braced his palm flat against the grungy shower tiles, fingers splayed, his pelvis rocking with each tug on his cock. His mind wandered in a haze of lust and Dean found himself wishing for a one-night stand, or at least something to grind up against. He bit back a chuckle at that. Damn it, he was horny as a teenager jacking off for the first time.
Dragging his fist up the length of his shaft yet again, he stroked his thumb over the tip, tracing a lazy circle around the head. It took all his considerable control not to come right then and there, the head of his cock so sensitive he had to forcibly stifle another moan. Of course, being Dean, he had to do it again, and again, slicking the head of his cock with pre-cum, overwhelming his body with pleasure until his vision damned near blacked out. He angled his body under the shower, letting the water flow over his chest and newly-sculpted belly, parting around the base of his cock and dripping off his balls, each droplet leaving an incredible trail of sensation along its path.
The motel hot-water heater was giving out, the drizzle turning chill, but it didn’t dampen his cock’s rowdy enthusiasm the least bit. Dean pumped it faster, damned near biting through his lower lip to try and hold in his body’s involuntary growls and moans, wanting the haze of hot, eager pleasure to never end. It was a losing battle. His leg muscles tightened almost painfully, heat pooling low in his belly and tension gathering in his balls, building and building until his orgasm hit him with the force of a tidal wave. Dean fell against the wall of the shower stall, riding it out as best he could, his fist still stroking and tugging jerkily, stars swimming in his vision as his cock pulsed endlessly in his grip.
He came back to full awareness after what seemed like much longer than ever before, still breathing heavily as if he’d just sprinted a mile, the cold water raising goosebumps across his chest and shoulders, his cock still half-hard in his hand. Dean shook his head to clear the last after-images of the white-hot stars from behind his closed eyelids. He felt a blush paint his cheeks as he realized he’d yelled aloud at the end. Served Sam right for not warning him, he thought with an embarrassed chuckle, and gingerly moved to rinse the cum off his now-tender cock.
Weird. Apparently, Dean thought, bemused, werewolves shot blanks. Who knew? He turned off the frigid water, grateful for the warmth of the thin, scratchy motel towel, and got dressed hastily. He’d taken a hell of a long time in the shower. Fortunately, Sam was gone when he emerged from the bathroom. The big werewolf returned a few minutes later, grocery bags in hand. Dean took in the sight of him, the broad-shouldered, six-foot-five frame and shaggy brown hair that were so achingly familiar, the golden eyes and oversized canine teeth that made it clear that this man wasn’t his brother.
The bitch-face was the same no matter what universe it was. “Dude. Some ground rules,” Sam said, pulling a spray bottle of air freshener out of one of the plastic bags and spritzing the room ostentatiously. “I get that you’ve got needs, but not when I’m in the room, okay?”
“Sorry.” He shrugged. “I’ve been kind of stressed, you know?” In spite of his embarrassment, Dean couldn’t help but chuckle as the tough-looking hunter fussed, revealing the prissy side of his personality Dean doubted anyone else ever got to see.   “Seriously, man, I was in the shower. Do you really need to empty the whole bottle?” he groused after a minute.
“Pheromones,” Sam said succinctly. “You’re going to have a way better sense of smell than a normal human, once the next full moon rolls around and you change.” He sighed. “I don’t know if you not really being my brother makes this more or less creepy.”   He finally set the bottle of air freshener aside.
“Sorry,” Dean repeated. “It won’t happen again.”
Sam sighed again, louder this time, and turned to unpack the plastic bags, unloading a six-pack of beer and assorted containers of snack food onto the table. “Um, it probably will. Werewolves tend to have a strong sex drive,” he murmured, carefully avoiding Dean’s gaze.
“I noticed,” Dean said dryly. “Not that there was anything wrong with my sex drive before,” he couldn’t help but quip with an unrepentant grin.
Sam groaned. “You’re so much like Dean… I don’t know whether to hug you or punch you in the face, jerk.”
His voice broke just a little, reminding Dean that his not-brother’s real brother, this universe’s real Dean, had failed to survive his own werewolf attack a year ago. Just as his own, real Sam back in his own universe had failed to survive the latest insanity the Winchesters had gotten themselves caught up in. Blinking back the lump that formed in his own throat, he stepped close enough to give the taller man a roughly affectionate pat on the back.
“We’re just going to have to find ourselves a couple of cute waitresses and bang their brains out.”
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