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"Come on Dean,” Jo huffed, tugging on his hand. “I need to get Charlie something for her birthday. Those Star Wars cupcakes or whatever.” The omega pulled him closer to the shop’s entrance.
They were standing in front of Cas-Cakes and Assorted Baked Goods, a bakery just off campus that was quickly gaining popularity. Dean had heard about it no less than seven times in the past week – mainly because the head chef was an alpha.
But that wasn’t the reason he was cautious about going in – well, it kind of was, because Dean knew how he got around certain alphas. It was because he knew that he’d end up spending his entire month’s worth of food money in there. Especially if they had pie.
"Dean, look. They even have pie." Jo let go of his hand to point to a display in one of the windows, where three glorious cherry pies had been laid out.
Shit.
Jo rolled her eyes and fisted the front of his shirt, managing to drag him up to the frosted glass door before he dug his heels into the pavement and stopped them both.
"Dean." she ground out, but he stared at her with the best puppy-dog expression he could make.
"Jo, please. I need to pay rent tomorrow. I can’t go in there."
"You promised to help me pick out something for Charlie." she pleaded.
"Why can’t we just–" he was cut off by the bakery’s door swinging open, warm air blasting into the November chill while some beta chick breezed past them, boxed pumpkin pie in hand.
But the smell. Holy shit, it was the best scent he’d ever had the fortune of smelling, like nutmeg and cinnamon and sweetness, pumpkin and something heavy and hella-fucking-amazing, making heat blossom and swirl in his chest, warming him up from the inside with each breath.
"Dean?" Jo waved a hand in front of his face, and he blinked. She giggled. "Yeah, smells amazing, doesn’t it?"
He inhaled again, but the scent was almost gone. “Smells like fucking heaven.” he answered, feet already moving towards the door. He yanked it open again and sucked in a breath, closing his eyes at the smell. He wanted to spend the rest of his life in there. It was even more potent inside, the pheromones of betas and omegas and a couple alphas mixing with the smell of the pastries and pies and cakes and goddamn, it was practically intoxicating.
There were really too many people squeezed into the little shop, sitting at tiny circular tables in corners or standing around or squeezed in the back, talking with hot chocolate and cupcakes or cookies or bagels in their hands. It created a thick atmosphere, and Dean could feel his temperature rising, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie as he surveyed the line. There were around seven to eight people standing single-file in front of the counter, around fifteen sitting and standing to the side, and three behind the counter preparing the food and serving customers.
His eyes found the chalkboard on the wall behind the counter, displaying prices and items, and he groaned internally. There was no way he’d be able to afford a pie.
He felt Jo’s hand on his arm and looked over. She was staring at the blackboard, her brows scrunching together like they did whenever she was thinking about something. Or plotting some kind of prank, in which that stare was usually directed at the victim. She could be cruel sometimes, even more so if she managed to bribe Ash into help her.
"Look, I’ll buy you a pie."
He turned to her and she quickly raised her hands. “For Thanksgiving. Or, late Thanksgiving. Whatever.” But he was already shaking his head.
"Jo, I can’t let you do that."
She sighed loudly as another beta walked out the door, stirring up the scent of the shop again and Dean took another deep gulping breath, smiling slightly as he exhaled. He could seriously spend the rest of his life in there. He looked over again and saw Jo staring at him strangely, one eyebrow quirked.
"What?" he asked, but she just shook her head.
"Let’s get in line."
There were only three people standing there now, and as they stepped behind some blonde omega he turned to stare wistfully at the pies again. The display was double-sided, the perfectly-cooked circles of deliciousness placed tauntingly, just out of reach. The sign under them was taunting him too, the price staring back at him in bold black letters.
But under that was the price of single-slices of pie – something he hadn’t seen before. Sure, he’d have to eat ramen for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a few days, but it definitely smelled like it was worth it.
By the time it was his turn in line Dean was sweating, yanking on his hoodie a bit as he pulled out his wallet and made sure he had enough. The shop was warm enough with two ovens on, and the amount of bodies packed in made the temperature rise even more.
"Hello, welcome to Cas-Cakes Bakery. What would you like to purchase today?"
Dean’s brain paused for a second, because woah. The man staring expectantly at him was gorgeous. Black tousled hair, pink lips, slight stubble, and the scent of alpha practically rolling off of him. So really, he shouldn’t have been held accountable for the next words that came out of his mouth.
"Uh, you?"
The guy’s mouth twitched, like he was holding back a smile. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not on the menu today. Would you like something else …?” he trailed off, and Dean blinked.
"Ah, yeah, sorry." he chuckled, shaking his head a bit. The alpha’s eyes, a deep blue, tracked the movement. "I’d like a slice of that." he nodded to the pie in one of the glass cases behind the counter.
The man stepped back and cut out a slice, packaging it and handing it to Dean after he paid.
"Have a nice day–"
"Dean." he blurted out, a hot flash of something traveling up his arm as their fingers met. “My name’s Dean.”
Seriously, what the fuck.
"Oh. Well. Have a nice day, Dean." he said, a small smile on his face. Dean nodded awkwardly, taking a step back. "Stay out of the cold."
"You – you too." he responded, mentally kicking himself. He cleared his throat and spun, bumping into Jo who was staring at him incredulously. He brushed past her and stepped outside, taking a gulp of frozen air.
"Dean, what was that?"
He groaned.
"Were you … flirting with Castiel?” She rushed up and stopped in front of him, making him pause in the middle of the sidewalk.
"What? No." he paused. "Who’s Castiel?"
"The shop owner. The guy at the register. You asked to him if you could purchase him."
Dean chose to ignore this, opening the lid of his pie instead. He grabbed the fork that had been placed inside and took a bite.
It was fucking amazing. He let out one of the most pornographic moans he’d ever heard and stared at the little slice of heaven in his hands, something that had obviously been made by and for the gods. There was no way someone could ever possibly craft something that good. The filling was the perfect consistency and the crust was crumbly and flakey and fan-fucking-tastic, and he moaned around his second bite, shoving it in his mouth before he’d even swallowed his first.
He heard Jo clear her throat and he looked up, fork still in his mouth.
"I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?" she asked, looking amused as the wind whipped her hair around.
“‘hid id the besht pie i’ve ever ‘ad.” he mumbled, swallowing the remaining pie in his mouth.
"I got that."
He stepped around her and continued onto their dorm, shoving the remaining pie into his mouth and groaning.
By the time they reached the stairs he was mourning over the empty pie container, trying to figure out how he could afford a full one. An image of him on his knees taking the alpha’s cock, wad of cash on the counter, suddenly assaulted his mind, Castiel groaning, “Yes, yes”, in that gravel-and-whiskey voice of his, a full octave lower because he was totally on the edge of coming in Dean’s mouth, and Dean would totally take it and swallow it all, like a good omega, and it would taste just like the way he smelled, sweet and heavy and fucking perfect–
"– so I’ll see you later, okay? And don’t forget about Charlie’s birthday." Jo was waving to him as he returned to reality, walking down the hall to her apartment. He blinked a couple times and stared at the door, realizing that he was standing right in front of his. He unlocked it and stepped inside, feeling his slick soak into his underwear and grimaced. Shower it was.
His blowjob fantasy from earlier returned halfway through stripping and he was half-hard by the time he actually climbed into the water. He jerked off in the shower and came with a hitched breath and a stuttered, “fuck.”
He climbed out, knees still shaky, and dressed quickly, making sure he’d get to work on time.
But when he arrived, Ash told him that there weren’t any cars scheduled for him to work on.
"What do you mean there’s nothing?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. The number of cars he fixed directly affected his paycheck, and he couldn’t afford to not work on anything. He didn’t have anyone to fall on back home, and even though he knew his friends would help him out if he asked, he didn’t like the feeling of owing other people.
Ash tapped the chart behind him, feet crossed on top of the desk. “Your slot is empty for the next four days. Might as well go home and take a nap or jerk off or whatever.” The beta sniffed. “And take a shower. Smells like one of the omegas in your dorm is in heat or something.”
Dean shook his head. “I’m gonna talk to Bobby.”
Ash shrugged. “Whatever you want, Captain.”
He smacked Ash on the back of his head while passing him and knocked on Bobby’s door before letting himself in.
"My slot’s completely empty?" he demanded, dropping his bag in the corner. "Bobby, you know I need the cash."
Bobby smirked to himself and leaned back in his chair, picking up an envelope sitting on his desk.
"I know. But you also need sleep." he handed the envelope to Dean. "And you worked straight through Thanksgiving break. You deserve this."
Dean looked from Bobby to the envelope, frowning suspiciously at it. He opened it and pulled out a check, eyes widening as he read the amount.
"No way. No. This is – this is way too much Bobby I can’t –"
"Shut up, ya idjit. Take the damned check and get something nice for yourself before finals start."
His mouth opened and closed a couple times, trying to find something better to say other than thank you, but his mind was blanking. He stepped back a couple feet, eyes still not leaving the amount of money. He could pay rent. He could buy real food. He could buy some of those scent-masking shirts for the summer so he wouldn’t be bothered by alphas. He could buy his friends Christmas presents.
"And Dean?" Dean stopped halfway to the door, still blinking at the amount of money in his hands. "If I see you here for any reason before Wednesday, I’ll fire you on the spot."
Dean grinned at him before grabbing his bag and rushing out the door. Fifteen minutes later the check was cashed and he was walking to Cas-Cakes Bakery, intent on getting a full sized pie or two, and pigging out before his two o’clock class. But when he walked in he was assaulted with the smell again, and he felt his head spin and his body grow warm from head to toe.
He blinked and looked around the store, noting that the crowd that was there before had nearly dissipated, with only a few stragglers left on laptops or talking in hushed voices. It made sense; most people had gone to class or work, or were passed out somewhere in the library. The actual lunch rush didn’t start for another hour, and the coffee rush started around half an hour before two. He knew this mainly so that he could avoid the crowds. Being late to class because he wanted coffee and couldn’t afford an actual coffee maker was a really shitty experience. Mostly because Professor Lafitte locked the doors and only let certain people in if they remembered the special knock he taught people at the very beginning of the year.
Professor Lafitte was his favorite.
He approached the counter slowly, looking at all the other sweets and baked goods the bakery offered. It was a sweet tooth’s paradise, with lemon bars and eclairs and seven different kinds of cookies and hot chocolate and cupcakes and pie and–hello, handsome.
"Hello, and welcome to – oh. Hello, Dean."
Dean’s inner omega practically rolled over at the sound of his name on the alpha’s lips, thoughts suddenly turning to how it’d sound after a rough fuck or moaned softly into his ear or whispered against his skin, and he had to dig his fingernails into his palm to keep himself from getting hard in the middle of a fucking bakery.
"Hey, Castiel."
The alpha tilted his head and Dean couldn’t believe how fucking endearing it was. “I don’t remember telling you my name.”
"Ah, yeah. My friend Jo, she knows you?"
Castiel nodded, expression clearing up. “She’s one of Gabriel’s friends, I think.” he pointed to a smaller man kneading dough in the background, who turned and winked before returning to his work.
"Yeah, that makes sense."
Castiel’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Are you actually here for our food, or are you going to attempt to buy me again?”
Dean felt his face flush. “Actually, I’m here for more of your pie. Although if you came with it, I wouldn’t object …”
Castiel’s eyes caught his, and suddenly Dean found himself staring into a pool of black and blue. It was nearly indescribable, like the sky right before sunset or a pool during the night or the ocean fifty feet out.
But then he blinked, and Castiel blinked, and Gabriel whistled. Castiel cleared his throat, and looked Dean up and down, nostrils flaring.
"Surprisingly, I don’t find myself objecting, either." Dean watched a pink sliver of tongue wet his lips and looked up to those eyes again, finding that the blue was being overtaken by black, and that sent a pulse of heat through him. "Would you like a whole pie or just a slice?"
"Whole." he answered, scenting the air as the alpha turned. He smelled something sharp and salty, and belatedly Dean recognized it as arousal. Castiel was hot for him.
Fuck.
He felt his body reacting, wetness between his legs already.
Castiel returned, a boxed pie in his hand. He placed it on the counted and Dean paid, feeling the same spark as he had earlier as their fingers brushed.
"Have a nice day, Dean."
He glanced up to see Castiel smirking at him, a predatory glint in his eye that made Dean shiver.
"Y-you too."
They didn’t break eye contact until Dean had backed out of the store, turning to jog back to his apartment, his dick refusing to give up, and he was hard and aching by the time he had placed the pie on the counter. It just wasn’t fair.
He yanked at his jeans and managed to shove them down to his knees as he flopped onto his stomach on the couch, arching his back as he stroked his cock, shuddering as he felt more slick leak out of him. He ran his fingers over his hole and gasped, two of them slipping in easily. He could easily imagine it as Castiel behind him, a hand stroking his side as his fingers delved in and out, making Dean moan.
He picked up the pace, thumbing over the head of his cock and using his precome to slide the way, but it wasn’t enough. Dry and quick was always good, but it wasn’t good enough right now. He pushed himself up on shaky arms and positioned himself so that he was leaning against the back of the couch, knees planted in the cushions. He pulled his fingers out and gathered up some of the slick starting to run down his thighs and coated his dick with it, breath hitching as the drag shifted into a slide, slippery and warm, sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. There was a tight heat in his belly, getting hotter and hotter as his hand sped up, the sounds of skin on skin filling the empty apartment. His breath hitched and then he groaned, head tilting back and knuckles going white as he came, spilling into his hand.
He took a couple deep breaths and wiped his hands on his underwear, already coated in his slick. As the haze in his mind cleared his thoughts turned to the pie waiting on the counter, wondering if it was still warm. He climbed off the couch and stretched, grimacing at the feeling of slick cooling on the back of his thighs. He padded into the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and soaking it in warm water, wiping himself down and pulling on a pair of sweats he’d slept in the night before.
Cleaner than before and comfortably sated, he walked back out and into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together as he approached the pie. Something caught his eye as he reached for it. It was a phone number.
Castiel’s phone number.
Castiel’s phone number was on the pie.
Well, not on the pie exactly, just on the box the pie came in, but still.
His hand inched towards his phone, but he stopped himself. He’d seem like one of those needy omegas who couldn’t control themselves and wanted a knot 24/7.
But still. The look in his eyes, his smell, the way he smirked at him. Dean would gladly drop to his knees and take his cock, knot and all.
He shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow. The heating in the building must be broken again, because he was way too hot in his hoodie. He yanked it off and threw it over the back of the couch and turned back to the pie on his counter, grabbing a fork from the drawer and digging a bite straight out of the middle, moaning at the taste. Castiel definitely made the best pies in town, possibly the best in the country. There was no contest.
He flopped face-down on his bed half an hour later, stuffed from eating a third of the pie in one sitting. He had just enough time to take a nap before class, and reached over to his phone to set his alarm, drifting off almost immediately.
Castiel couldn’t believe himself. He was being completely unprofessional, getting all hot and bothered over some green eyed omega. During store hours.
Gabriel had already teased him about it, making lewd comments that spiraled off into fantasies that were only interrupted with customers. By five and his second messed-up order Castiel was contemplating closing early. He knew that Dean was a college student and probably didn’t have time to call him yet, but he still couldn’t help hoping.
After a third screw up where he managed to hear ‘cock’ instead of ‘cake’ and ended up with a very confused customer, he let Gabriel talk him into going home.
It was seven at night, so it was dark as he got into his car. He pulled out his phone and stared at it, mentally willing it to start ringing or something so he’d have something to do tonight. Sundays they opened late and closed early, so he had time to kill.
But his phone stayed silent, and he sighed as he started his car, pulling out and driving away.
Dean woke up hard and covered in sweat, turning over and rutting into the soaked sheets, gasping at the feeling.
He was in heat. There was no question, having woken up like this way too many times before. He turned over again and yanked off his shirt, shoving a hand into his pants and groaning, stroking himself a couple times and coming with a choked-off moan.
He rolled onto his back, letting his breathing even out before glancing at the clock. It was seven thirty. He’d been out for over five hours. He’d missed his class.
He groaned and rolled off the bed, wiping sweat from his forehead. He was still practically panting, feeling way too hot. He felt himself getting hard again, and scrubbed his hands over his face. It was just the beginning, and he went over the math in his head, wandering over to the calendar he kept by his bed to check. Twenty-seven days since his last heat. That wasn’t even a month. He shouldn’t even be in heat right now, since he got his every other month.
The answer came to him with a groan. He’d been triggered. There was no other explanation. It’d only happened to him once before, in high school. His dad had brought over one of his poker buddies, some alpha, and damn. His scent was so strong, he went into heat an hour later. It had been awkward for everyone.
Dean stumbled into the bathroom, because even though there was slick running down the back of his legs, his mouth tasted like satan had shoved his cock in it while he was sleeping, and as much as he’d like to come three times in a row and then pass out for another twelve hours, he just wasn’t comfortable with it.
But he didn’t have much self control, pulling off his slick-soaked sweatpants with his toothbrush still in his mouth. He wrapped a hand around his erection and stroked a couple times, trying to relieve the pressure, but ended up inhaling a bit of toothpaste and coughing uncontrollably, eyes watering, spitting everything out into the sink. On the bright side, it felt like his lungs, along with his throat and mouth, were minty fresh, the downside being every breath burned.
But he could feel the pressure mounting and staggered back into his bedroom, landing face-first into the damp sheets and rutting into the fabric, the friction making him moan loudly. His hips moved faster, sparks of pleasure traveling from his groin up his spine, eyes clamped shut. He stopped for a second, fisting the sheets. Just rubbing himself to orgasm wasn’t good enough. He needed more. He needed to be stuffed, a cock in both ends, practically choking on it. His mouth watered at the idea of sucking off some alpha, knot and all.
He shuffled back and stood on shaky legs, crouching down to pull an inconspicuous cardboard box out from under his bed. He opened it, revealing all kinds of different toys. He sifted through them until he found his favorite, a completely black dildo with a suction on the end, so he could stick it to the wall or the floor or wherever. He stood up and climbed back onto the bed, crawling up to his pillows, shoving them onto the floor.
His bed had no headboard, so he stuck the dildo to the wall right there, leaning forward and arching his back and gasping as he felt himself start to stretch around it. He growled out a low, "fuck", and shoved himself down on it, crying out as it hit him just right. He pulled back and then sank down on it again, loving the burn. It was just on the right side of pain, sending jolts of white hot-pleasure zinging through his body, adding to the growing heat in his belly. He began to slowly fuck himself on it, his hitched breaths and small moans filling the empty room. He didn’t particularly like it, the emptiness. All he could smell was himself. No alpha, not even a hint of beta, nothing he could fantasize with.
He sped up, hand reaching down and jerking his cock as he thought of blue eyes and stubble and that goddamned smirk, thought about how Cas would totally be a beast in bed, shove him around and fill him up and leave him until he was begging for release, only let him come if he said, "please, alpha".
He came with a twist of his wrist and a breathless moan, pleasure running through his veins and spilling into his hand. He wiped it off on the sheets, which were dirty enough anyway, and pulled off the dildo, crawling forward a bit and collapsing, arms refusing to hold him up. He felt his dick twitch and start to harden again as his breathing slowed down and cursed. There was no way he was getting through this alone.
He laid there for a couple more minutes, drifting off slightly, but was woken up by the ache that always accompanied his heats, a kind of throbbing need to do something or have something inside of him, but he didn’t want glass or silicone or even his own goddamned fingers. He rolled over and fumbled for his phone, breathing a sigh of relief when he picked it up.
He scrolled through his contacts, hesitating on the usual names he called over when he was in heat. But he passed them by, wanting someone else. He hovered over Castiel’s name, having put the contact in his phone before he fell asleep earlier. He contemplated it, rolling his hips into the bed. He groaned, shutting the phone off and reaching over to his box, looking for the right toy. He found it after a minute – a hot pink vibrating plug, complete with a separate remote and artificial knot.
He sat up, each brush of fabric against his oversensitive skin making him shudder. He rolled the toy around in his hand a couple times, trying to warm it up, before reaching around and pushing it into his clenching hole. He flicked the toy on and set it to the second setting, moaning through clenched teeth as he slid it in and out. He turned it up to the third and highest setting, gasping loudly and bracing himself with a hand as his hips jerked and rolled, pleasure flaring and building with the vibrations. It wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough.
He reached over and scrabbled for his phone, pulling up Castiel’s number and hitting call without thinking. His hips were still rolling, jerking, still panting and moaning, hitting speakerphone because his hands were too sweaty. It rang once, twice, and then he picked up.
"Hello?"
"Castiel? It’s Dean." He panted. "God, I–fuck–I went into a triggered heat and I w-want you, want your knot. I need your knot. Can you come over?”
There was a pause, and Dean shifted, making the vibrator hit him right there and he moaned, loudly, hips thrusting into the air. He was right there, on the edge, but he didn’t want to fall over, not yet.
"What’s your address?" Castiel’s voice, a couple octaves lower, shocked him, and he rattled it off, turning the vibrations down a setting.
"Dean?"
He m-hm’d back, trying to slow himself down, but it felt like his blood was liquid fire, beads of sweat falling down his chest.
"Don’t come before I get there." His tone was dark and Dean whined in response, unable to form the right words as another jolt of heat shot through him.
Castiel hung up and Dean pushed the phone into the corner of the bed, hips still jerking from the vibrations. It was good, adding to the building pressure with every passing second. He reached down and grasped his cock, orders forgotten, and thrust into his fist, movements shaky and without rhythm. He was already close, so close, the knowledge that an alpha would be right there fucking him facedown into the mattress in a few minutes spurring him on, coming with a strangled moan. His hand scrabbled for the remote, the toy still buzzing, too much for his oversensitized hole. He found it and shut it off just as his phone rang, Castiel’s name flashing over the screen.
Dean squinted at the brightness of the screen as he picked it up, answering with a rough, “Yeah?”
"Dean. You have to come down here and let me in."
"What?" he asked, brain still foggy.
"You live in the omega dorms, do you not? There is a guard here and I’m an alpha–"
"Oh, right, right, yeah, I’ll be right down. Just hold on a second."
Dean hung up and threw his phone to the side somewhere, standing up wit a groan, feeling his dick perking up just at the mention of an alpha. It was late November and the heating in the dorms sucked, but here he was sweating his ass off, looking for a shirt and sweatpants just in case he ran into anyone he knew. He found some old beige Rolling Stones tee under his bed and pulled on a pair of flannel sweatpants from yesterday, practically running out the door as the familiar ache returned, using every bit of his willpower to not stop in the middle of the hall and rub one out. He made it down the stairs and nearly to the door before he stopped to palm himself, just to relieve some of the pressure.
He pulled open the door and sucked in the frozen air, sighing in relief as he felt himself cool down a bit.
"Woah, Dean." Rufus, the dorm’s guard, was right there, standing nearly in front of Castiel, hands on his belt to extend his shoulders and make himself seem bigger. "Maybe you should step inside, your scent, it’s a bit … strong."
Dean’s brain reminded him that that was a good idea, because the longer he stood there the more alphas he’d attract, but Castiel was right there, and he wasn’t leaving unless he had him with him.
"Cas is with me," he replied, breathlessly. "I called him over. I’m assuming you can smell why."
Rufus gave him another wary glance, but stepped aside. Dean could feel his body reacting the closer Castiel got, each step making his heart pump harder and his breath catch in his throat. Was that normal? He didn’t know.
And his scent hadn’t changed one bit, still dark and heady and absolutely intoxicating. Dean could tell that he was affected by his smell, eyes blown and cheeks flushed, and they barely made it up the stairs before Castiel had him pinned to the wall, thigh between his legs.
"You…" he breathed, sniffing at Dean’s neck, "smell so good."
Dean groaned and thrust his hips forward, searching for friction.
"Look, you smell amazing too, but I’d rather not have you knot me in the middle of the building. My apartment’s right upstairs."
Cas nodded. “Right.” He took a breath and stepped back, but turned, a look in his eye. “But I plan on doing much more than just knotting you.”
Dean could only stare dumbly as Cas started up the stairs again, calling for him. He stumbled a bit as he pushed off the wall, making it to the door before Cas had him pinned again, mouths clashing together, a growl coming from one of them. God, he tasted even better than he smelled, like something sweet but sharp, almost better than the pie that was still in Dean’s kitchen.
Cas wound a hand around and scratched at the nape of Dean’s neck and he shuddered, moaning into Cas’ mouth. The kiss was dirty and quick, both of them panting when they broke apart. There was a faint shine of red in what was left of Cas’ iris, and Dean could feel his slick start to drip out from around the plug, in response to the alpha in front of him.
He turned quickly, breaking eye contact, and fumbled with the door handle, swinging it open and yanking off his shirt, hearing it slam shut and a sharp inhale.
"God," he heard Castiel whisper, "I don’t think I’m gonna last long."
Dean fumbled in the dark and found Cas’ hand, tugging it in the direction of his bedroom. He realized, as he opened the door, that the entire room reeked of sweat and come and pheromones.
He stepped forward and yanked off his sweatpants, wrapping a hand around his erection and groaning loudly. He climbed up on his bed and rolled onto his stomach, presenting himself, and he heard Castiel gasp.
But there was no movement, so he wiggled a bit, whining. “You gonna take care of me, or do I have to do it myself?”
Those seemed to be the right words, because there was the shuffling of fabric and then there were hands on his ass, spreading his cheeks apart, cool air breezing over his hole and making him shiver.
"Dean," Cas tugged on the vibrator, sliding it out slowly, and Dean bucked his hips, gasping. "Did you come from this? Before I got here?"
Dean could only whine until the whole thing was pulled out of him, empty hole clenching. There was a sharp smack and he moaned, hips jerking.
"Yes, yes, I–" but he was cut off by the feeling of warm, wet muscle lapping over his entrance. He moaned loudly and shoved himself back, needing more, more. There was another smack and he gasped, feeling the sting blend into a burn and then there was a groan against his skin, and Castiel pulled back just to murmur something that he didn’t catch.
"You gonna share that with the class?" Dean says breathlessly, feeling like if Cas didn’t get his pretty hands and talented tongue back on and in his ass then he’d surely die.
"Taste so good." Cas growls, hands kneading Dean’s cheeks. "But you’re going to get punished for disobeying my direct orders, omega.”
Dean does not mewl, he doesn’t.
"I’m going to spank you, and you’ll count them for me." And then the fucker delves right back into his ass, fucking him with his tongue and making Dean writhe. The first smack comes down hard, bringing a jolt of pleasure with it.
"One," Dean whined, shuddering as Cas kneaded his cheeks before bringing his hand down again.
By fifteen Dean’s a mess, nearly sobbing from the pain-edged pleasure. His cock ached from the lack of friction and his ass burned, and Cas was doing this thing where he would lick around his hole and then suck, and Dean swore he was going to pass out from the combined sensations if he didn’t get to come soon.
But then there was a finger alongside that torturous tongue, searching and pressing until he hit him right there and a dry sob was ripped out of him, nearly arching off the bed. He felt a moan against his skin and then the stretch of a smile, a second finger added alongside the first, jabbing his prostate again. Dean whimpered, arms collapsing, and with a third finger he was coming with a choked shout, vision whiting out as his body clenched over and over.
"Oh, god." he mumbled, breathing heavily into the mattress as he slowly returned. He blearily recognizes it as Castiel who’s sitting on one of Dean’s pillows, completely nude and staring at the large black silicone dick suctioned to the wall.
Dean’s still not entirely coherent at this point, and he’d make some sort of joke about it if he didn’t feel like the guy had just made him shoot his brain out of his dick.
"Have you fucked yourself on this, Dean?" he hears Cas ask, and he tries to reply, he really does, but all that comes out is a garbled, "Nyugh."
And then he feels his cock start to twitch and harden and he buries his face in one of the only dry spots left on his bed, groaning in frustration.
"Come here." Cas reached for him, hand outstretched, and pulled Dean’s burning body towards his own. The kiss started out sweet, just a press of parted lips, but then Cas groaned and pressed forward, tongue sweeping in and dominating his own, tasting and claiming every inch of his mouth and making him shudder. Two fingers trailed down and pressed into Dean’s slick-and-spit soaked hole, and he moaned, loudly. He was on fire, sure that Cas could feel it, feel the sweat that seemed to cover every inch of his body. They rutted against each other, hands tangled in hair, feeling the slow burn build back up, to a higher, hotter pace.
Cas tasted so good, like someone had condensed the world’s greatest things into a taste and then put it in the man he was currently sucking faces with. He pulled back, too soon, and growled again against Dean’s neck, a deep, rumbling, claiming sound.
Dean leaned over and yanked the dildo off the wall, flinging it into some corner of the room, sighing now that the distraction was gone. He leaned over and sucked a bruise into the skin into Cas’ collarbone, kissing inch and inch of skin as he moved down, nipping at the skin under Cas’ bellybutton and on the insides of his thigh. He felt the fingers slip out of him and he was suddenly hit with a strange emptiness, clenching around nothing, and that ache, that goddamned ache started again, from somewhere deep inside of him.
He tried to ignore it, liking a stripe up the shaft of Cas’ cock and moaning softly as his fingers tangled in his hair. They tug twice, an encouragement, and he leans forward and takes the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before slowly sinking down, down, until his nose is touching the small patch of hair at the base of his cock.
"For all that is Holy…" Castiel’s voice is strangled and Dean peeks up, staring at him through his lashes. It’s unfair, really, because if Dean thought he was gorgeous when they first met, it’s nothing compared to now. His hair is sex mussed, cheeks and chest completely flushed, eyes half-lidded and with pupils blown so wide Dean’s amazed there’s any iris left. He’s also got a really hot runner’s body, with muscles standing out in places that Dean really wants to lick.
He pulls back a bit and lets his teeth lightly graze the vein on the underside, and Cas’ eyes roll back in his head as the hands in his hair tighten, making him moan around Cas’ dick. He tugs again and Dean makes some sort of noise, doing something with his tongue that makes him tighten his hold until it’s nearly painful, but Dean loves it, loves the fact that Cas can grip him like that even with the length of his hair.
"Dean, do you…" he gasps, "do you like it when I pull your hair?"
Dean hums around his cock, fingers dragging at the inside of his thighs and making him jerk. His hips are giving little thrusts, like he’s trying to hold himself back. Cas gives him a sharp tug and Dean inhales, hand reaching behind him and shoving in three fingers, not able to wait any longer. He whimpers in relief and pulls off, licking his lips.
"Fuck my mouth." he says, breathlessly.
Cas stares at him for a second, mouth parted, and god, he looked so good Dean could cry. He rocks back on his fingers and whines, the hand on Cas’ hip curling in pleasure as he hits his sweet spot, moaning loudly and throwing his head forward. Cas’ hand guides him back to his cock and then he’s thrusting up, fucking Dean’s mouth with abandon.
He’s rocked back and forth, thrusting his hips onto his fingers, adding another and moaning loudly, while the hand tangled in his hair shoves him down onto the cock in his mouth. Cas is murmuring filthy things, and it’s too much. Dean’s almost embarrassed at how close he is, and he’d probably be humping Cas’ leg if they weren’t drawn up around his head.
"Fuck, just like–god–yes, just like that, you fucking omega cockslut–”
Dean whines, a needy sound, and Cas groans.
"Yes, god, gonna–fuck–breed you like the bitch you are, Dean, fuck,”
Dean moans at this and his hips thrust into air, seeking something more, the fingers shoved in his ass just not cutting it anymore. His skin is on fire, the inferno blazing in his gut growing hotter and hotter. He taps Cas’ hip twice and he freezes, letting go of Dean’s head and letting him sit up. There’s spit running down his chin, he knows.
"Dean? Are you hurt? Did I do something–" he’s cut off with a clash of lips, Dean attacking his mouth and letting him taste himself on his tongue.
"Please, please–" he kisses him again, frenzied, hands gripping either side of his head, "fuck me, please alpha I can’t stand it, need your knot, need it so bad…”
Castiel lets out some sort of strangled reply and surges forward, claiming his mouth and petting his sides, breaking apart only to manhandle Dean so that he’s on his elbows and knees in front of him, ass up. He pushes in and bottoms out in one long thrust, making Dean moan loudly, but then he just stops and Dean swears he’s going to have an aneurysm.
"C’mon, c’mon alpha. Fucking breed me."
This does the trick, and Cas thrusts forward violently, hitting all the right spots and Dean cries out, head falling forward. His fingers tighten to the point of painful, digging into his hips, but Dean doesn’t say anything, feeling like he was getting the air fucked out of him, pleasure racing through his body with every thrust. He grinds back with a long, drawn-out, “fu–uck,” as Cas slams into him, trying and failing to match Cas’ rhythm. He was holding on by a fingernail, gripping the back of Cas’ neck like it’s the last thing he’d ever do, gasping loudly and only vaguely aware that the bead was creaking ominously below them.
The alpha jerks forward, pressing his head against the back of Dean’s neck and stops to grind, right on Dean’s prostate, and he writhes, whimpering and giving tiny, desperate thrusts, the pleasure so good it hurt. He’s a sweaty, incoherent, unintelligible mess, and he loves it.
"I said breed me, alpha," he growls, "breed me like you fucking mean it."
Dean can feel the smirk pressed against his neck, and then he moves again, slamming into him, and Dean swears he sees stars. Castiel moves a hand from his waist to scrape across his ribs, pinching a nipple, making Dean groan loudly. His breath is hot in his ear and he can feel the sweat between them, sliding against each other, rhythm slowing slightly. His knot grows and he can feel it, catching on his rim, adding to the stretch and burn and it’s so good, so, so, good, and he’s right there, right on the edge, he knows it, he just needs something more–
Cas’ knot swells to full size and locks them together, and Cas growls, an animalistic sound, grinding a bit before biting down on the side of Dean’s neck, hard.
This is all he needs, nerves sparking and he jerks back and grinds on Cas’ knot one more time before coming with a shout, showers of stars behind his eyes and through his veins, the white-hot pleasure making him clench down, shaking spasmodically. He can’t breathe, can’t breathe at all, and he feels like he’s on the verge of blacking out, feeling like the pleasure was choking and blinding him. He’s high, so high, could have lifted off the bed and floated into space for all he cares, and then he was back down, laying face-first in the sheets as Cas shook and pulsed inside of him, groaning his release. Dean can feel it, feel him pumping his seed inside of him, and sighs, his temperature finally, finally, cooling down.
His limbs are jelly, simultaneously feeling like they’ll never stop shaking and like he’ll never be able to move them again, and he’s vaguely aware that Cas is trying to move him, but he can’t be bothered to lift a finger, except, okay, this is kind of an uncomfortable position, but hey, he’s pretty damn comfortable.
"Dean, please." Cas is shaking his shoulder, which makes the other one throb a bit and what did they just do? "Are you alright?"
He moans something back, blinking a bit and squinting. He realizes that he can move his limbs if he tries hard enough, and pushes himself up enough to turn and peer at Cas, who was staring at him worriedly.
"Dude, the’fuck you worried ‘bout?" He tries to crawl forward only to remember with a gasp that oh, yeah, we knotted.
"I… it seems that we… mated."
"Oh." Well, that explains his shoulder. He shrugs. "C’mon, I wanna get at least four hours of sleep before your knot goes down and I go into heat again."
Cas tries to position them, and with a bit of maneuvering they’re spooning in the middle of the bed. “So you’re not … mad at me?” He hears Cas ask, and he grunts, already halfway gone. “‘Deal ‘ith it ‘n the morning.” And then he fades out, dead to the world.
When they got past the part where, hey, they’re now mates for life, Dean had some of the best orgasms of his current young life, hands down. His never-ending heat-stamina helped, obviously. Charlie found out pretty quick, barging straight into his apartment right in the middle of some pretty interesting positions they’d ended up trying out on the couch, and consequently complained about being ‘scarred for life’ for the next two weeks. She also gave him a weird book on mating the day after his heat had ended, and it turned out that he and Cas were ‘True Mates’, or something, not like he believed in that kind of stuff. (He did.)
Andy had complained about how, “Both of the Winchesters have found their True Mates and I haven’t even banged anyone in the past month.” Which was a legitimate concern, but Dean was a little busy having awesome, life-fulfilling sex.
By christmas they all found themselves tucked around Charlie and Jo’s christmas tree, presents littered around the base, which made Dean nervous because it was Charlie and Jo. Sam and Jessica were tucked up against one side of the couch, Dean and Cas on the other. Charlie was handing out presents, and so far they had a total of five. She stopped in front of them again and winked, handing Dean a small, slim present wrapped in magenta paper and tied with a black bow. The last of the presents were distributed, and then Charlie clapped her hands, the bells on the disgusting christmas sweater she pulled out every year jingling.
"Alright, everyone can unwrap their presents now!"
Dean shared a glance with Cas before tearing into the pink box with Jo’s handwriting scrawled across it, laughing loudly when he saw the contents. Fuzzy pink handcuffs. They also received a jumbo box of condoms, the entire Star Trek: The Original Series ripped on DVD, an empty cookbook-journal thing for Cas, (“Sam, you fucking girl,”) a pair of hand-knitted sweaters from Jess, and a cheese grater.
When everyone was done squealing over what the others had gotten each other, Cas got up, announced that there was still one more present left, and strode into the kitchen. There was the banging of forks and plates as everyone stared curiously at the doorway, until the scent of pumpkin wafted in. And Dean perked up immediately, knowing exactly what Cas was about to bring out.
He was right when Castiel stepped back into the living room, a pie in one had and plates and forks in the other. He handed the plates to Sam, and began serving the slices, saving the largest, and last slice, for Dean.
There was a pumpkin-pie-kiss shared, along with a whispered, “I love you.”