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Sam gets the text Saturday morning. It's damned early and he's only up, because he never dropped the habit of working out. Given how many students are sneaking out at night, Sam prefers to run laps around 5am. It gives him something to do, when his insomnia inevitably hits. Still, the text is a surprise. None of his friends is awake at this hour, most probably just went to bed.
--- "H.E. Urgent. Motel at Road 65 just outside town. Need you."
His breath hitches, when Sam reads the message. He stares at it for full five minutes, not sure if he's hallucinating. Dazed and almost determined to ignore it, Sam wanders into the kitchen and makes coffee. Jess is still fast asleep and continue to do so for the next five hours at least. Unlike many outsiders assume, they're not a couple. They're just friends and ... both Alphas. Living together is a matter of necessity, since Alpha's aren't allowed to live in the dorms and it's just too expensive otherwise.
That was a complication Sam hadn't anticipated, when he left for Stanford. Full-ride only included living arrangements for Omegas and Betas, not Alphas. Which Sam can even understand, after some of the stuff he has witnessed on campus. Either it's young Alphas strutting over the yard, experiencing complete freedom for the first time since their pack leader is far away at home, or Betas and Omegas gang up on lone Alphas, using them as outlet for the sexism they experienced in life.
Sam understands the tricky situation. He has lived through it himself, on both sides. Since he switched schools so often, not everyone immediately got that the new one is an Alpha as well. Sometimes Sam let his peers believe the lies they make up, far easier to manage than to get into a fight every afternoon in order to prove himself.
So, fuck no. Sam is actually very happy in his apartment with an Alpha who understands his plight. As one of the rare female Alphas, Jess gets the mess about the right amount of posturing, hiding your status for convenience and when to make use of it. All of that is enough for Sam to ignore the text, being reminded that he got out of his old life and that he doesn't want to get back into it.
Until he gets the second message, just after he finished his coffee.
--- "Just tell me if I need to find someone else."
Fuck. Sam had no intention of going, but these words wake his instincts. Possessiveness curls up inside his chest and Sam grips his phone tight. HE means Heat Emergency. Despite the unknown number, Sam knows who it's from. There're only so many people in his life, who would come for him in order to assist. Main reason being that Sam refused to add his name to the list, which request for a partner during regular ruts and heats.
For Sam, those lists are just excuses. It's uncomfortable, but usually a heat doesn't render you incapable of living your daily life. Scent blockers, enough fluids and exercise is enough to counter the biological urges. Unless it's for a truly dire medical reason, Sam would never have sex with a stranger just in order to get off. He has seen too often how heat partners confuse biology with love and start dating out of the wrong reasons.
But ... Sam looks at the two messages again, while sunlight illuminates his empty kitchen.
This is different.
John Winchester never asks for something.
-
His father looks awful, when he opens the door after the third knock.
"Get inside," John rasps and locks the door as soon as Sam walked through.
The younger Winchester puts the bag he brought along on the counter. It's the emergency bag, one that he keeps beneath the bed. He only thought he'd need it for a fucking hunt, for the dreaded phone call that his father and his brother are in surgery or worse. Never Sam'd would've imagined that John would come to him.
"What happened with Bobby?" Sam asked, concerned about the older hunter.
John Winchester doesn't go into heat often. Over the years he pulled through and went on with his hunting life, regardless what his biology demanded. Sam thinks he never had an anonymous encounter behind a shady bar either. No, their father was too loyal to Mary for that. But when Sam caught Bobby's scent on John once, he demanded an explanation. It hadn't gone well, given how he had been fifteen, had just presented and feared that John wanted a new family.
"We fought. Last time didn't go so well," John growled and sank back on the bed. His hands trembled as he pulled of his shirt.
At first Sam wanted to protest, because John needed to stay warm dammit, but given how soaked the shirt was already he decided against it.
Wordless Sam handed over a few sandwiches and one of those healthy shakes. Most Omegas hated eating while they were in heat, but John at always seen the sense in that regard at least. There was a reason why most Omegas were so skinny, because many underestimated how much calories they burned.
At John's age heats were vicious. They just turned up every eight to ten months, getting rarer and more irregular with each year. While a pregnancy might still happen, ninety percent of the Omegas at John's age ended up losing the child. Sam had been told most Omegas are glad when this period is over, for it was far harder to endure all of the other stages. For irregular overwhelming heats were worse than breeding or giving birth. For Omegas were built for it. Losing that, watching children grow up and move out, had a psychological and physical effect.
"What else do you need?" Sam wanted to know, because John didn't call him here for food. "How bad is it?"
"Worse than usual." John gritted his teeth and couldn't help the moan that escaped his mouth.
"Get naked then," Sam ordered. All Alphas were taught what to do in such situations. There was nothing wrong in helping an Omega out and as long no unplanned children turned up a few months later no one batted an eye at odd Alpha/Omega combinations.
Given how fast John obeyed the order, Sam got how bad it truly was. In the past his father had hunted during heats, had fought of monsters that would rather fuck than kill him and he greatly respected John for facing such danger on a daily bases. Yet John Winchester was also known for ignoring his heats entirely, delaying them with pills, breathing techniques and other barely legal stuff.
Probably what happened here and the main reason, why his father was already panting as he pushed down his sweatpants and reveal that wore no underwear aside from the small cloth Omega used to deal with overwhelming slick.
"I'm ready," John breathed and laid down, spreading his legs for Sam.
In the dim light of the motel room Sam saw how wet his father was, how the slick poured out of him while his hole clenched around a plug.
"You're truly desperate, aren't you?" Sam growled in a dark voice, pushing John further onto to bed while grabbing one leg to press it against John's chest.
Past experiences have shown that John didn't like the mushy love-making. Sam suspected that died with Mary. Instead his father wanted it hard, wanted to writhe and suffer while his body betrayed him. Wanted to be punished for still craving to get fucked after his one and only love died. It was a necessity, but John still hated himself for it.
It says a lot about Sam that he never minded giving that to John.
Sam pulled out the plug, bigger than he anticipated it would be and held it in front of his father.
"Just look at this. It's to big and yet you still don't get enough," Sam said as he got into position. He rubbed his cock over John's hole, getting it wet and teased his father with a promise of would come. A moan was the response and John lowered his eyes in shame, if not submission.
"Yes, Alpha. It's not enough. I need your knot, please."
John parted his legs as wide as he could, wrapping his hands around the back of his knees and let out a shocked gasp, when Sam answered with slamming into him. His son didn't give him time to adjust, chose to thrust into his hole deep and hard instead, rocking John's body back and forth until Sam had to hold him down.
"Oh yes. Oh yes, god, yes," John moaned low as the thrusts kept coming and Sam lifted his ass to slide in deeper.
Yet just as John was ready to tumble over the edge for the first time, his son wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and John cried out. Jerked in his son's grip. Pain mixed with pleasure as Sam's knot formed, filling him with hot seeds that couldn't get him pregnant but should satisfy his needs at least.
"Sam. Sam. Sammy," John Winchester babbled. "Let me ... let me."
"No," Sam answered and slapped his father's ass. Smirked, when John clenched tight around his cock and moaned in desperation as his own throbbing dick only got a little wet at the tip, because Sam prevented him from spilling more. "No, not yet. You may get my knot, but you will only come, when I tell you to."
They're locked tight together, Sam's large cock and his knot filling John out in the best way. Even the strain from being not allowed to come started to feel good after a while. Better than the unanswered lust from earlier.
John whined when Sam pulled out a cock ring, fastening it around his father's throbbing shaft and smirked the response is the older man writhing on the bed. Yet all Sam allowed him was the feeling of fucking his knot deeper, used his experience to make the knot feel larger.
"Hm, I think I'm gonna spank you next," Sam told John as he felt his knot subside. Since they're not a mated pair, the duration they are locked together is pretty short. Sam watched his come drip out of John as he grabbed the paddle from the bag he brought with him and manhandled his father onto his stomach until the older Winchester is half laying on the bed, half kneeling in front of it.
Pulling at John's hair, Sam knew he was being far more rough than with his other partners, but John wanted this. He would start begging soon, pleading to come or to be filled up again, but as long as he didn't call for Mary Sam knew he was within the accepted limits. That would only happen at the very end of the heat, when John would be too delirious to tell the difference between his son and his wife.
Sam brought the paddle down, unrelenting as John started to count first before he broke off as the hits kept coming and he was too out of his mind to keep track.
It might not be pretty, but if this made John feel close to Mary, Sam would do it.
Later when John's ass would be covered with come, crying tears as a toy assaulted his prostate, Sam would let him have his orgasm. He'd edge him to the point, where he forgot Mary between the pain and the pleasure he was trapped in. Maybe John would cry his way through the aftershocks, when Sam would knot him for the final time, but in the end they would go back to their own lives tomorrow and pretend that none of this had ever happened.