Chapter Text
Sam entered the nursery and paused in the doorway, taking in the sight in front of him.
Dean was in the rocker, cradling Alexander and dozing, his eyes closed and lips parted. The baby’s wispy-haired head nestled between Dean’s breasts, his little body balanced on the shelf of Dean’s stomach.
Sam took a step forward, the floorboard creaking, and Dean blinked his eyes open. “Hey, it’s okay,” Sam whispered. “How’s he doing?”
Dean blinked and glanced down at the soft sleeping bundle. “He’s asleep.”
Sam padded forward, wincing as another floorboard creaked, but Alexander didn’t stir. He exchanged a relieved glance with Dean, then bent to carefully lift the baby into his arms. He tiptoed to the crib and gently laid him down inside.
He turned when he was done and smiled at Dean. “All good. Supper time.”
Dean blew out a breath and shifted in the rocker. He was wedged into it, his hips crammed against the wooden sides. He put his hands on the arms and heaved himself to his feet, taking a moment to gain his balance. Sam followed him out of the room and into the kitchen.
Dean sank gratefully into a kitchen chair, leaning back to make room for his belly as it grazed the edge of the table. He accepted the mug of hot chocolate and plateful of grilled cheese sandwiches Sam pushed his way with a nod. “Still hot,” he said approvingly.
“I timed it perfectly,” said Sam. He watched Dean plow through the sandwiches, making sure to replenish Dean’s mug of hot chocolate every time it got low from the pan on the stove. It hadn’t been long since dinner, but Dean could never resist a good grilled cheese, and as Sam expected, he finished the plate with a groan of appreciation.
“Sammy, you make a damn good grilled cheese.”
“I know,” Sam said. “You know, we got some of those chocolate croissants left over from this morning.”
Dean looked torn, making a face. “Dude, I can’t. I had six this morning,” he added feebly.
“Okay, I’ll put them out with the trash. You know they’ll be stale tomorrow.”
Dean sighed, “Okay, fine, Bring them here, don’t want to waste food.”
Sam hid his grin as he got to his feet. He got the grease stained paper bag from the cupboard and dropped it to the table in front of Dean, leaning to drop a kiss to the top of his head. He rested one hand on Dean’s meaty shoulder, then slid it down to cup one of his breasts, rolling the flesh through his fingers and gently thumbing the nipple.
Dean paused halfway through his second croissant. “Sam,” he murmured.
“Hmm?” He leaned in closer, over the back of Dean’s chair, lowering his face to kiss his cheek. His other hand slid around to rest on his hip, fingers nudging at the hem of his shirt. “What, baby? Finish your pastry,” Sam said, quiet and low.
Dean reached into the bag for his third pastry. Sam murmured approval and slowly peeled up the hem of Dean’s shirt. His belly poured out into his lap, released from its clinging cloth prison. Sam groaned at the sight. He spread his fingers, sinking his hand into the expanse of doughy flesh, and squeezed gently.
Dean shivered but he kept eating, another and then another croissant, emptying the bag, chasing the pastry crumbs with his fingers, and taking breaks to sip from his bottomless mug of hot chocolate. When he was done, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, hands dropping to rest on his belly. Sam circled the chair, sinking to his knees in front of Dean. He placed his hands over Dean’s, their fingers entwining. He tugged Dean’s hands away, and leaned to rest his chin on the apex of Dean’s gut, looking up into his face with an adoring smile.
“Hey there.”
Dean rolled his eyes at him and cupped the back of Sam’s head, working his fingers through his hair and tugging at the strands. “Hey yourself.”
There were pastry and bread crumbs on Dean’s shirt, gathered in the plunging divot between his breasts and pooled in the shelf of his belly where Sam had pushed his shirt up. There was grease on his lips from the grilled cheese and a little foam from the chocolate on the edge of his mouth. He looked satiated and full and tired, his eyes listing and gaze heavy lidded.
“Let’s go to bed,” Sam said.
Dean reached out a hand to snag Sam’s belt buckle as he heaved himself to his feet, pastry and breadcrumbs cascading to the floor. Sam tugged him along to the bedroom, Dean’s belly nudging his back as Dean stumbled close after him.
They undressed quietly, the baby monitor on, and both of them keenly aware of the need to make as little noise as possible, Sammy, their toddler, was a restless sleeper. Sam watched Dean feel and grope under his stomach to wrestle with his pants button and sigh with relief as he finally managed to unbutton his pants. There were painful red marks where his pants waist had dug into him.
“We gotta get you some new pants,” Sam said.
Dean said nothing as he tugged his shirt over his head. He wasn’t wearing a bra and his big soft breasts jiggled at the effort before settling like fleshy water balloons on top of his belly.
“And a bra,” Sam added, “what happened to that one we bought after–”
“Grew out of it,” interrupted Dean, sounding annoyed, “And yeah I know, I need a new bra and new pants, but I don’t know, man, that’s like admitting defeat.” He rested one hand on his belly, his expression darkening as he looked down at himself, the effort rounding out his slight double chin. “No, I’m definitely going to lose weight.”
Sam held his tongue. It was wiser not to point out that Dean had just eaten more than his recommended daily amount of calories in one before bed snack with minimal coaxing from him. The grilled cheese had been Dean’s request after all, and Sam hadn’t forced him to eat the entire plateful, not to mention the bag full of pastries. Dean’s capacity for food and his appetite had only increased in the time since he’d gotten pregnant with Alexander. Any attempt at dieting had not made it past day one.
Sam watched him walk to the bathroom, the floorboards creaking under each heavy footstep. Sam gave him a minute and then followed, pausing in the doorway. Dean was holding his toothbrush and frowning at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, hand resting on his middle. Sam stepped into the room, and Dean looked up, blushing and jerking his hand away guiltily.
Sam slid up behind him and leaned down to kiss his cheek, his ear, his jaw. He batted Dean’s hands away and rested his own hands on Dean’s belly, gliding his palms over the expanse of soft, smooth flesh to cradle the underside. Dean didn’t protest, he was enormously sensitive in this area, a pure erotic zone for him. His eyes fluttered shut as he let himself lean back into Sam, no doubt feeling Sam’s erection pressing against his ass. Sam nuzzled Dean’s cheek, kissing down his jaw, his neck, to softly mouth and suck at his throat.
“No, no more hickies, man,” Dean muttered, and Sam groaned in frustration. Nothing he loved more than marking his brother.
He transferred his attention to the ball of belly under his hands, spreading his fingers to take the load better, hefting and assessing the weight of it. God, it was big, not as firm to the touch as when Dean had been full term with Alexander, but so substantial and present and God, heavy. He marveled for a moment at what it must feel like to be Dean, to have to carry all this extra weight around all the time, to glance down expecting to see the floor and to just see… belly.
He glanced at their reflections, in profile, the narrow mirror didn't quite capture all of Dean, he’d have to take another step back to fit all that middle in the frame. The realization made Sam dry-mouthed with want, he slid his hand into the shadows under his stomach, where he groped for and found his dick. It was fully erect, fat and full, the head bouncing against the underside of his belly. Sam fisted it, and Dean trembled and shivered in his arms, fingers hooking into the crook of Sam’s elbow to steady himself.
“Turn around,” Sam whispered, kissing the shell of Dean’s ear, and then he sank to his knees.
Dean turned obediently, parting his legs, leaning back into the sink, and gasping as Sam peppered kisses to the underside of his belly, over the sensitive skin. Sam paused, and looked up at him. “Hold it up for me, baby.”
Dean obliged, hands moving to cradle and heft his gut, giving Sam room to lean in and swallow the head of his dick. Sam sucked him greedily, up and down, nose and forehead colliding with belly on each glide until Dean was shaking and coming, emptying into Sam’s mouth. Sam swallowed and sat back on his haunches, looking up at Dean, enjoying the view, and grinning wickedly.
Dean was red-faced, beads of sweat on his forehead. He exhaled and passed a hand over his jaw, smiling dazedly at Sam. “Fuck, Sam. What about…” he waved a hand at the place where Sam’s dick was tenting his jeans.
“Get on the bed, all fours,” Sam ordered him.
Dean padded into the bedroom. He climbed heavily onto the mattress, Sam seeing how much it dipped and sank under his weight. Sam quickly shucked his clothes as Dean moved to all fours.
He worked him open slowly, though he was still a little loose and sticky from that morning, taking his time to finger fuck him, and layer kisses over his neck and shoulders, so Dean was once more trembling with need and fully erect by the time Sam finally pushed inside. He sank his hands into the flesh at Dean’s waist and hips with a groan of pure pleasure, God, so much to explore, as he thrust into his brother, reaching around him to squeeze and fondle his tits. Like this, with Dean under him, it didn’t take long, Sam fucking into him relentlessly, sending ripples through his body. Sam gasped and groaned, spilling inside Dean, his come leaking out of Dean’s hole as he pulled out. He nudged Dean, then rolled him over and onto his back. The mattress groaned as Dean collapsed back into it, his stomach ballooning out and up, his dick bobbing against it. Sam fisted Dean’s cock, jacking him with his own release as lube until Dean came with a groan.
Sam left him there, beached across their bed, as he went to get a towel to clean up. He came back with a hand towel and sank down beside Dean, cleaning him up carefully and lovingly, running his fingers over what he swore were new stretch marks.
“You’re bigger,” he said. Dean rolled his head to look at him. “Bigger than when Alexander was born, I mean. Bigger than you’ve ever been, Dean.” He raked his gaze up and down his brother’s body. “So fucking big,” he added wondrously.
“I know,” Dean said with a sigh.
“It’s incredibly hot,” said Sam.
Dean snorted, a snuffling amused sound. “You think so.”
Sam leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. “I do. It’s incredibly erotic, I can’t get enough.”
“I’ve noticed,” Dean said dryly.
Sam hmmed thoughtfully, he fondled and squeezed one of Dean’s sizable breasts. “So, so sexy, baby,” he murmured.
Dean closed his eyes, his face slack with pleasure as Sam continued to play with his breasts, tweaking the large and perky nipples. He wondered idly how big Dean’s rack actually was, it was certainly bigger than any of the women he’d ever been with. While it was normal for omega men’s breasts to swell while in pregnancy, they usually started to deflate after the birth. Alexander was nine months old and Dean’s chest had kept on growing, as evidenced by the discarded bra.
Dean opened his eyes and looked at him. “I know you love it, but I’ve got to lose some weight. I’m really fucking big, Sam. I want to drive baby again.”
“How much do you weigh?” Sam asked after a moment.
“I don’t know,” Dean sighed. “I can’t, you know, can’t see the dial, over this.” He palmed his belly.
“Oh,” said Sam, feeling a jerk of heat flash through him at the thought. Of course, Dean hadn’t been able to see his dick, or his feet, or even the floor in years, of course it would be impossible for him to weigh himself. “Let’s do that tomorrow.”