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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
- 9
- 10
- 11
Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who left a rating, and especially to the anonymous lovely who left me a review. I fuckin' love the feedback, folks. :)
Please be warned, this chapter contains a scene with rimming. If you're squicked by rimming you might want to stop reading at the *.

Flashback:
Dean dropped a match into the heavy ceramic bowl of spell ingredients and stepped back, expecting to see the demon he’d just summoned appear inside the devil’s trap laid out on the floor of the empty warehouse. Instead, he felt the ground lurch beneath his feet and hastily grabbed for the big, bone-handled knife lying close to hand on the table. A moment of blackness, and then Dean found himself surrounded by pallets loaded high with boxes.
He spun in a tight circle, knife in one hand, a pistol—drawn more swiftly than conscious thought—gripped in the other. Nothing. No demon, and thankfully, no night watchman, at least not near enough or alert enough to notice the presence of the hunter in the abruptly not-empty warehouse. Dean re-holstered his gun and slipped out a side door, rapidly taking stock of his surroundings as he walked through the industrial neighborhood.
Same neighborhood, same small Midwestern city, but there were differences, some obvious, some so subtle Dean didn’t quite trust his own memory.   Time travel, maybe, he thought, or some kind of attack or counter-spell, making him hallucinate? Or maybe an alternate dimension? He chuckled dryly, reflecting that he’d been through some seriously fucked-up shit to make time travel and parallel universes seem almost commonplace.
A few hours later found him seated in a tavern, just downing the last of his drink and considering what to do next when the demon he’d been trying to summon walked in the door. The meatsuit looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes briefly, and Dean’s head reeled with shock. Those eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the tavern, gleaming an eerie, inhuman gold.
The only yellow-eyed demon he’d ever encountered had been Azazel, the demon who’d killed his mother and infected his brother Sam with his blood. But Azazel was long dead, shot by a bullet from Samuel Colt’s legendary gun. Dean had killed the bastard himself.   He shook his head, banishing the confusion.
The demon walked past him, utterly nonchalant, and took a seat at the bar. Dean stalked over, laying a heavy hand on its shoulder. It startled, turning with wide golden eyes, and Dean swore he caught a glimpse of fangs before it broke free with superhuman strength, knocking Dean to the floor and taking off at a run.
Dean cursed and followed, trailing the creature to a row of townhouses backed up to woods, gradually falling behind. Whatever this thing was, it was unnaturally strong and ran like a high school track star.    Dean cursed again as he lost sight of the creature. Had he ducked inside one of the houses or gone on into the woods? Or was he hiding somewhere nearby? Dean stalked down the short, dead-end street, letting out a grunt of triumph as the golden-eyed man suddenly bolted out of some bushes and took off running for the woods. Dean forced his aching legs and burning lungs to keep pace, tearing after his prey.
Sam Winchester had let out a few creative curses of his own as the rogue werewolf he’d tailed to the bar suddenly reappeared, being chased by a stranger. Running down alleys, ducking behind buildings and through vacant lots, the pair had quickly lost him as he tried to follow in his ‘69 Mustang. On a hunch Sam drove to the closest patch of woods, parking near a row of townhouses.
As Sam slipped quietly between the trees, he growled another soft string of curses as he caught sight of the stranger. Civilians had no business trying to chase down rogue werewolves. Hell, for all Sam knew, this amateur didn’t even care if his quarry had gone rogue, just some bigot out to harrass a werewolf just for existing.   The big hunter was just starting to move closer, intending to confront the stranger, when the rogue came barreling through the trees. “Watch out!” Sam yelled.
Dean heard a shout, but it was already too late as something slammed into him from behind with enough force to knock him to the ground. He rolled, slashing at the creature with his knife, but it batted the blade out of his hand with a deep-throated growl. Dean dove after the weapon, stifling a scream of pain as claws raked across his shoulders. Somehow his fingers managed to close around the handle of the knife and he turned it in his hand, stabbing awkwardly up and back at the monster.
Sam took off running toward the rogue and its prey, drawing his pistol as he pelted through the trees, but the stranger was putting up a fight, thrashing and rolling. Sam couldn’t get a clear shot. “Back off! Back off!” he bellowed at the werewolf, but the rogue had given in to bloodlust. Then the stranger went limp, the rogue’s fangs buried in his shoulder. Sam fired off two silver bullets, killing it.
Sam kicked the wolf off the stranger, watching as it changed back into human form, the naked body looking vulnerable, almost pitiful in death. The big hunter didn’t feel a single qualm of guilt. The rogue’s ability to change form at will made it clear he’d killed many times before.   He knelt beside the stranger, clicking on a pocket flashlight to assess the man’s injuries. The beam revealed the stranger’s face and Sam recoiled, his golden eyes widening in disbelief.
“It can’t be…Dean? Dean!”
Present:
Another day of searching through Chuck Shurley’s library had finally yielded a counter-curse. Dean had wanted to get back on the road immediately in search of the many ingredients they’d need to complete the spell, but Chuck’s wife, Becky, had insisted they stay for a celebratory dinner. Much to Dean’s disgust, Sam had agreed to the plan, insisting they could leave early the next morning.
“I’m hitting the hay,” he grumbled as Sam headed for the palatial bathroom. Dean stripped naked and slipped into bed, his sour mood lightening at the comfort of the pillow-topped mattress beneath his body, the sinfully soft Egyptian cotton sheets against his bare skin.
He had almost dropped off to sleep when Sam flung back the covers and scooped him up. “Bitch!” Dean protested as the big alpha carried him into the bathroom and stepped into the bathtub. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Shut up, jerk,” Sam retorted good-naturedly. He set Dean on his feet in the middle of the tub, tugging him down to sit with him in the deliciously hot, chest deep water. Several whirlpool jets kept the water swirling and bubbling around them. “We’re leaving tomorrow. You’d regret missing out on this.”
“It is kind of awesome,” Dean had to agree. The tub was almost big enough to qualify as a swimming pool, and the water, he had to admit, felt fantastic. It was no surprise when Dean’s cock hardened in reaction to the stimulus.   Sam shoving a washcloth into his hand with a demand to wash his back, on the other hand… Now that was a surprise. “What?” Dean said stupidly, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic demand.
“Use the unscented soap,”   Sam said, turning his back to Dean so he was sitting between Dean’s legs.
Dean’s cock gave a twitch as Sam scooted closer, his ass pressed back against Dean’s crotch. “What are you, four?” he groused. “Because that’s the last time we took a bath together, at least in my world.”
“I was too young to remember, if we even ever did that here,” Sam countered with a lazy grin, catching Dean’s eye in one of the mirrors mounted on the wall behind the tub. “So I want you to do it for me now.”
“You’re weird,” Dean scoffed, but he poured some soap onto the washcloth and swiped it over Sam’s broad shoulders, feeling desire coiling in his belly, over-riding the strangeness of his not-little-brother’s request. Dean slowly worked his way down to Sam’s back to his narrow waist, then back up again, pulling him back to lean against Dean’s chest as he soaped his chest and belly, teasingly avoiding Sam’s thick, erect cock.
“Uh-uh,” Dean admonished with a smirk as Sam’s hips rolled up, straining to get that needy cock within reach of his hand, “got to get you clean, first.”
He set the washcloth aside and cupped his hands, filling them with water that he then poured over Sam’s hair, careful not to get any in Sam’s eyes, just as he’d done as a kid when he’d taken care of his real baby brother.   Dean poured a dollop of shampoo into his palm, rubbing his hands together to disperse it between them and then massaging it into Sam’s scalp.
The big hunter practically purred with indulgence, idly stroking his cock as his big brother concentrated on carefully washing and rinsing his hair. “Your turn,” Sam murmured, turning back to face Dean, combing his fingers through the long strands, pushing them back off his forehead. Sam poured soap into his palm, rubbing his hands together in imitation of what Dean had done with the shampoo.   He started with Dean’s shoulders, sliding his hands over them in a slippery caress, moving slowly down to stroke Dean’s chest, leaning in to claim his mouth in a sensuous kiss.
Dean whimpered as Sam’s tongue wrestled his, hips thrusting as Sam’s hands dipped lower, skating across Dean’s belly, knuckles brushing tantalizingly against the head of his aching cock.   He wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders, trying to ground himself as those light, teasing touches drove him wild, and reached for Sam’s cock, hot and slick with soapy water, stroking it with a firm grip.
“Please, Sammy,” he pleaded, unable to stop another urgent buck of his hips as Sam caressed the taut six-pack of ridged muscle, ‘accidentally’ brushing against his cock, but the alpha moved his hands out of reach with a sly chuckle, dragging another desperate whimper from Dean’s throat.
“Uh-uh,” he mocked, rocking his own hips in time to Dean’s hand, thrusting his cock into Dean’s fist. “Got to get you clean, too… But first, I’m going to come.”
Sam grabbed the back of Dean’s neck and slanted his mouth hard over Dean’s, thrusting his tongue in time to the pace of Dean’s hand wrapped tight around his cock. Dean felt his mate shudder as his cock tightened in his fist, Sam’s low growl vibrating against his mouth. Sam’s fangs sank into Dean’s lower lip as he came, his cock jerking and twitching, spilling its first, phantom load over his fist. Dean’s own cock ached for release, the added sensation of the warm water swirling around it driving him crazy.
*
He grunted in surprise as Sam picked him up for the second time that evening, depositing him on the broad stone tile tub surround. Dean shivered as his shoulders touched the cold surface of the mirror as Sam leaned him back, throwing Dean’s legs over his shoulders as he knelt in the water, his lips barely an inch above the head of Dean’s cock. Being manhandled by his little brother never failed to awaken submissive feelings in the only-recently infected omega, strange and not entirely welcome but made irresistible by the force of the mating curse.   Dean braced his hands on the lip of the tub, impatient but compelled to let Sam take the lead.
“Suck my cock, Sam, please,” Dean growled, looking down his body at his not-brother.   Sam was staring at his cock as if mesmerized by the thick, clear droplet of pre-cum that was slowly welling up from the slit. Dean followed Sam’s gaze, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited, hoping for Sam’s lips to close around his needy, aching cock. Both brothers watched as the droplet swelled, finally growing too heavy and sliding off the head of Dean’s cock to fall in a long, glistening strand onto his belly.
“Jesus, Sam…”    Dean thought he might come just from the heat of Sam’s gaze. He squirmed as he felt the warm soapy washcloth touch his balls.
“You want to be nice and clean, don’t you, Dean?” Sam stroked his balls with the washcloth, massaging them with the rough cloth, driving Dean crazy with the sensation. Then he swiped it lower, caressing Dean’s ass cheeks, working the cloth into the cleft between them. Dean moaned as Sam paused, but the alpha was only wetting the washcloth. In a moment the sweet torment started up again as Sam rinsed him off with elaborate care.
“Nice and clean,” Sam crooned, and gripped his ass with both hands, spreading him. Sam ducked his head and Dean let loose an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp as Sam’s tongue swirled around his tight, puckered hole.
His cheeks flushed pink as Sam smirked up at him. “I take it this is your first rimming, baby?” he chuckled, shameless, punctuating the question with another circle of that wicked tongue.
“Yeah...I’m new to the whole perverted werewolf mating habits thing.” The sensation of Sam’s tongue licking his ass was so unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, both hot and humiliating at the same time, but Dean managed a smirk of his own as he looked down at his not-brother.
Sam gave him a mischievous grin. “It’s going to blow your mind.”
- 9
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- 11
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Bite