Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean’s workplace, simply named Layla’s—after the late daughter of the original owner, Mrs. Rourke—has new management.

The diner was old, dingy, and covered in religious iconography, so Dean had no idea why anyone wanted it. Sure, he’d been working there for going on five years, and that might imply that it has something good going for it, but he could tell you with all confidence in the world that it really, really didn’t. The only explanation he could think of for the unexpected development was that some overly optimistic entrepreneur had fantasies of remodeling, somehow turning Layla’s into a hub of activity—a sort of diamond in the rough.

And boy, was it rough. Layla’s, much to the irritation of the previous owner, was located in a particularly impoverished part of town. Jacked-up rent forced people into ever-denser apartments or onto the street, or to selling drugs in hopes of keeping their original place. Dean himself was in the first category—he shared a room with three other people in their shitty one-bedroom apartment. Benny was his favorite roommate. The cool, even-tempered beta from Louisiana was Dean’s rock the past few years. His other two roommates, Garth (way too enthusiastic about everything, clumsy, beta) and Kevin (nervous, whip-smart, omega) were…fine. Garth was usually with his girlfriend Bess, and Kevin spent most of his time studying at the library. Neither were the sort of person Dean would go out of his way to spent time with, but they weren’t assholes either.

The thing was, Garth was making noise about moving in with Bess, and so moving out of their place. Either they needed a new roommate, or they’d need to redistribute the rent, and none of them could afford that. 

That was why Dean couldn’t really be bothered about the new management at Layla’s. The previous owner, some sleazy British guy who’d bought it from Mrs. Rourke, had apparently just given up, fed up with the homeless folks trying to catch some Z’s in the booths. Dean hadn’t even met the new management—gossip from his coworkers said that it was actually a family, all of whom dressed in suits, with slicked hair and accents.

Dean had watched enough movies to know that it was totally the mob. 

In any case, the transition was smooth. The staff was called into the back for a meeting, where the guys (and girls) in suits introduced themselves as the Novaks, and reassured everyone that they weren’t here to step on any toes. “Hannah” and “Castiel” would be handling the numbers, and their cousin “Gabriel” (a Milton, not a Novak) would be their manager and owner. The other people in suits were just family here to celebrate, Mr. Milton reassured.

They were totally the mob. 

Over the next couple of weeks, the diner got an overhaul. The crosses were toted out, the floor scrubbed, the windows washed, the whole nine yards. The walls got decked out with license plates from all over, plus a few street signs. Dean walked in one day, and the goddamn booths had been replaced. Gone was the cracked, faded black vinyl, replaced with damn nice red faux leather. There were new lamps, new tables, new flooring, even, all appearing over the course of the month.

Layla’s had gone from a dump to an actually pretty nice place. Mr. Milton had even seen fit to fire the sleepy, constantly high cook from before and replace him with some wide-eyed omega(!) named, of all things, Samandriel. 

Dean and his coworkers got a lot more nervous after that. No one had really liked the old cook, but it could very well be the start to a full overhaul of the staff. Who knew who would be found to be lacking next? Bela? Pamela? Dean was hoping for Meg, personally, but wasn’t holding his breath. 

Because Dean knew that, if anyone was to get fired, it would be him. As the only omega on payroll—everyone else being betas—he was an easy target for a manager looking to cut costs. Crowley had only hired him because his looks were sure to both garner tips (which he took, the bastard) and to keep people coming back. Sometimes Dean thought he was the only one who kept Layla’s afloat, with his little shorts, tight t-shirt, and flirty grins.

So, in the weeks following the ousting of Ed-the-shitty-cook, he turned it up to eleven. He swayed his hips more, bent over deeper, smiled brighter. He started wearing his heat bra every day, just for that little extra bit of padding. If he proved himself, showed just how many people came to Layla’s just to get a look at him, he wouldn’t get the boot.

At least, that’s the excuse he gave to his coworkers. The truth was more embarrassing, because the truth was that he had a crush. On the fucking mobster accountant. With his stupid sex hair and stupid blue eyes and his stupid trench coat.

The only thing that kept Dean from feeling like he was losing it was the fact that he could tell Mr. Novak—Castiel—was into him too. Those intense blue eyes followed him closely whenever they were in a room together, and so Dean flaunted what ass he had, sidled up as close as was socially acceptable, and gave him every one of the patented Dean Winchester grins. He hadn’t gotten much of a reaction yet, other than narrowed eyes and flaring nostrils, but he figured it was just a matter of time.

Dean knew he was hot stuff. Omegas always were, and he was the cream of the crop. 

And then the meetings started happening. Each week, a different member of the team was called into the back to talk with Gabriel. They always emerged nervous, cowed, like they’d been given a dressing-down. Even proud Meg seemed a bit smaller. Whatever they got told was apparently a secret, too—Dean had tried to wheedle it out of Pam, his buddy in the arts of seduction-for-tips, but she had just smiled and shook her head.

“Don’t worry your little butt about it,” she said. “You’ll be fine.”

Irritated, Dean grumbled and stalked away to take the order of table six.

Dean was the last to get a meeting, much to his extremely stressed dismay. Mr. Milton waved him into his office as soon as he got in, swatting the apron out of his hands. 

“Dean-o!” Mr. Milton plonked himself down in the nice chair behind his desk, leaning back and lacing his fingers together on his stomach. “So! I bet you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here today.”

Dean squinted at him, unimpressed. “How long is this going to take?”

Mr. Milton laughed. “See, this is what I like about you, Dean,” he said. “You know your worth. And yet, you don’t trot around the place like you’re the boss—you put your head down and work your ass off.” He unlaced his fingers and leaned forward to put his elbows on the desk. “Everyone else, I’ve given a stern talking to about how things are going to go forward from here. No slacking, no unenthusiastic greetings…no more cigarettes inside.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Yeah, they could blame Meg for that one.

“But you! The old owner, Crowley—the only thing he told me was to not fire you, or Layla’s would sink faster than a boat made of 1-ply toiler paper. I was doubtful, but you’ve proven yourself to be every bit as indispensable as he made you sound.” Mr. Milton winked and patted the surface of the desk. “Keep it up, kiddo.”

“Uh. Thanks, Mr. Milton,” Dean said. “Can I…?” he trailed off, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“Please, call me Gabriel,” he said, and waved a dismissive hand towards the door.

During the rest of his shift, each one of his coworkers accosted him to ask how it’d gone, that he better have appreciated all Dean did for the place, and so on. Dean shrugged them off, saying that Gabriel had essentially just said “keep up the good work,” and that it wasn’t a big deal. Pam shoved at his shoulder, flashing him an “I told you so” sort of smirk, which Dean just rolled his eyes at. 

The only interesting thing to happen for the rest of the day was a group of alpha construction workers, there for their lunch break. They clearly appreciated the view, and one even went as far as to coax Dean into his lap briefly, back to front, groping Dean’s crotch through his daisy dukes and grinding his interested cock into his rear. Dean let it happen for a minute, basking in the attention and wishing there weren’t so many clothes in the way—the dude who had his hands on him was smokin’—but eventually had to duck out, giving one last bounce in farewell. When he brought back their drinks, the alpha had his dick out and was stroking it, clearly on the verge of orgasm. At Dean’s approach, he lifted his head from where it was tipped back against the booth and smirked.

“Hey, pretty, want a treat?” he growled, spreading his legs and pumping his cock faster. The other alphas at the table were all watching Dean intently, most of them with a hand hidden beneath the table.

Dean’s own little omega-dick pulsed in interest. He hardly ever got his mouth on a cock nowadays, too busy with work and general survival. He missed it, though, alpha cum being one of his favorite tastes. He quickly set the tray of drinks down and sank to his knees, much to the appreciation of the construction workers. The alpha grinned and put his hand on Dean’s head, petting his hair a little before dragging him forward onto his cock. 

When the alpha’s huge cock entered Dean’s mouth, he moaned in ecstasy. Fuck, it had been so long. He hadn’t worn his absorbent heat-briefs today, so the gush of slick from between his legs soaked through his panties and into the denim of his shorts, creating a very visible wet patch. The alpha groaned at the sweet, fresh smell, thrusting into Dean’s throat just short of knotting his mouth, and came. 

Dean had sucked off a lot of people in his time. Alphas, betas, a few omegas. In his experience, omegas and women were sweeter—but his favorite would always be alpha men. The sheer volume of the cum combined with the aphrodisiac pheromones in it meant that Dean was left a very happy and full omega. This alpha was a little more bitter than Dean preferred, but he came hard and long. He suckled happily for a few minutes before the alpha’s cock got the memo that no knotting had occurred and started to go down. 

He pulled off, licking his lips and rubbing his belly. The pleasant tingle from the pheromones was starting to make its way to his dick, tenting it against his shorts. He’d probably have to take a breather in the back, maybe jack off in the toilet. He scooted out from under the table and shakily rose to his feet, swaying a little, eyes lidded. Fuck, that was good. 

The alpha tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up, eyes on Dean the whole time. “You were right, George,” he said across the table without looking away from Dean. “This place does have excellent service.”

Dean got a great tip.

But that wasn’t the best part—it should’ve been, but Dean’s fucked priorities meant the best part was when, after he took the table’s orders and turned towards the kitchen, he caught the eye of fucking Mr. Novak, the hot accountant. He was leaning against the wall of the hallway, blue eyes burning. Dean’s gaze dropped to where one of those big hands was slowly stroking the front of his slacks, bulged impressively, even for an alpha. Embarrassingly, a high-pitched whine escaped from Dean’s throat. Visions flashed through his head of Mr. Novak pinning him down, maybe over his desk or a diner table, and fucking his wet hole with a cock so thick and long that he’d feel it for a week. He’d bloat with the cum, he thought dreamily. His boxers would be sticky with it as it dripped out of him. He was only barely aware that a strand of drool had escaped his mouth as he stared.

Bela smacking him on the shoulder jerked him out of his fantasy. “You’re such an omega whore,” she scolded, snatching the order pad out of his hands. “Go jerk off in the bathroom before you make a fool of yourself more than you already have.” 

Dean turned red, snapping his head back to the hallway. Mr. Novak was gone. 

The course clear, he hurried to the staff bathroom and shoved his shorts down just enough to grab his little handful of a dick. He was so turned on from the cum in his belly and the sight of Mr. Novak getting off to him that it barely took a couple twists of his wrist for a few clear spurts of omega-cum to hit the water of the toilet. An answering flood of slick from his hole soaked his underwear even more, squelching as he did his shorts back up. Had he worked at a classier establishment, he might’ve changed into the clean pair of boxers and pants he had in his bag. But he didn’t, so he walked out of the bathroom with a wet crotch, slick dripping down his thighs.

Bela glared at him once she caught sight of him. Whore, she mouthed. Dean turned around and bent over, giving her a good look at his ass, complete with wet patch. He flipped her the bird through his legs.

No regrets.

After that, Dean didn’t see Mr. Novak for several days. To be fair, Dean usually didn’t see him everyday—usually only on Thursdays, and sometimes on Saturdays. As far as he could tell, he worked on Thursdays and only came in on Saturday to hang out. (It was a Saturday when the Incident happened, which Dean had taken to calling it in his head.)

As the days passed and the next Thursday neared, Dean’s anxiety amped up. What should he wear? Did his hair look okay? Did Mr. Novak like tits on his omegas? He stressed over the last one for a solid hour Wednesday night; he was approaching the month of his heat, and his chest always swelled considerably. Should he wear a bra? If he wore a bra, should it be the cute lacy one (fished from a dumpster and mended carefully) or the sturdy heat bra with padding? 

He’d wear the heat bra, he decided. It was more comfortable, anyway, and it wouldn’t do to look too prepared should something happen. Prepared was sexy, too prepared looked desperate. Which he was, but he didn’t want Mr. Novak to know that!

At work, he was a mess. Every hour that went by without seeing Mr. Novak grated on his nerves, putting self-conscious worries of rejection in his head. It took until the very end of his shift, when the diner was about to close, for Mr. Novak to show.

Dean was hanging his apron up in the back, disappointed and insecure, when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around—there stood Mr. Novak, wearing the fucking suit and trenchcoat Dean had never seen him out of. His hair was just as messy as it always was. Dean’s fingers itched to touch it.

“Mr. Winchester,” Mr. Novak said. Dean shivered at the gravel in his voice. “Would you come to my office, please?”

Dean followed him wordlessly, heart in his throat. And a little in his dick, too. Was he going to get scolded for being a slut at work? He started preparing his arguments, most of which started with a pout and a But I can’t help it! 

But as soon as they’d gotten in the door, Mr. Novak whirled around, picked Dean up, and kicked the door shut in one smooth motion. Dean squeaked in surprise, a noise he’d deny he made to his dying day. 

Mr. Novak strode purposefully to his desk, sitting down in his nice leather chair and perching Dean on the desk in front of him. He considered him for a moment, blue eyes hot and piercing, before speaking. “Your excessive promiscuity in the workplace gives me no choice but to conclude you do not have a stable alpha presence in your life,” he said. “I consider it my duty to ensure this is rectified. Do you accept?”

Dean stared. “Are…are you asking to be my alpha?” he asked, baffled.

“Yes.”

“Uh.” Dean quickly evaluated the situation. He was sitting on a hot alpha’s desk, with said hot alpha lounging in front of him, asking to court him. To make Dean stop whoring around at the diner. Sure, he could work this. “Can I ask for an audition?”

Mr. Novak raised an eyebrow. “An audition.”

“To make sure you’ll be able to satisfy me, you know,” Dean said with a shit-eating grin.

Understanding dawned on Mr. Novak’s face. “Ah. I see.” He made to stand up, but Dean motioned him back down.

“No, no, stay there, it’s fine.” Dean hopped off the desk and sank to his knees. He peered up at Mr. Novak, whose eyes had widened in surprise. 

“I feel this is more an audition for you than me,” Mr. Novak pointed out. Nonetheless, he unbuckled his belt and started to undo his pants. Below him, Dean made sure to get a proper eyeful. The bulge was even bigger up close, and he was pretty sure the alpha wasn’t even hard. 

Sure enough, when Mr. Novak pulled down the zipper to his slacks and pulled out his cock, it was enormous. Dean suddenly doubted his ability to even fit it in his mouth—when he reached out to touch, he needed two hands to wrap all the way around, and it was as long as his fucking forearm. The gargantuan thing was accompanied by a pair of balls that made his mouth water—big, round, and full, skin taut over the flushed skin. Dean leaned in to mouth at them, kitten-licking and sucking. They were hard, packed full. He moaned in appreciation and rubbed his face against them. So far, so good.

He leaned back again to lick Mr. Novak’s cock from base to head. He shoved a hand in his pants and rubbed his fingers over his hole, getting them nice and wet, before returning that hand back to the alpha’s cock and stroking up and down. Mr. Novak threw his head back and sighed, fisting a hand in Dean’s hair. 

“Mm, alpha,” Dean hummed, and fitted his lips around the tip. He inched forwards until the full head was in his mouth, and he sucked and licked at it as his hands rubbed up and down the shaft, periodically returning to his underwear to collect more slick.

By the time Mr. Novak was fully hard and abortively jerking his hips into Dean’s mouth, his cock was halfway down his throat. He used his throat like a fleshlight, doing very little actual sucking—he just leaned forwards and backwards, letting the huge cock slide in and out of his throat. Mr. Novak didn’t seem to mind, though, judging by his groans of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Dean,” he gasped. “So fucking tight, ngh.” The hand in his hair pulled him forward, choking Dean. The feeling must’ve been really good, because he moaned even louder and thrusted, fully forcing himself down Dean’s throat. Dean’s jaw ached fiercely, stretched to its furthest extent, and his eyes watered as he focused on breathing through his nose. 

A few more thrusts, and Dean could feel the alpha’s knot forming, sliding in and out of his mouth. If it popped, Dean would be stuck on his knees, throat stretched around over a foot of cock, twitching and pulsing ropes of cum directly into his stomach. He felt a twinge of sadness that he wouldn’t get to taste it, but that was always the trade-off. A knot meant he didn’t get to taste it, but no knot meant he got less cum. 

He hadn’t gotten mouth-knotted in years. May as well break his streak with the king of all cocks, with half a gallon of cum waiting in the wings.

The knot swelled until it caught behind his teeth and those incredible balls tightened up, preparing Dean’s reward. Mr. Novak moaned in bliss, holding Dean’s face flush against his crotch as he came. Dean felt the warmth pooling in his belly as the minutes went by, flexing his throat best he could to milk as much as possible. It went by in waves—Mr. Novak would tense and groan for a few minutes before relaxing for several minutes more. Nearly thirty minutes had passed by the time his knot went down and his cock slipped wetly out of Dean’s slack mouth.

Dean collapsed onto his side, head swimming. His shirt was tight against his full belly, riding up to expose a strip of skin. It ached deliciously in a way he’d only felt after eating too much, one of his favorite sensations, and one he hardly ever got to feel. His dick throbbed in his shorts, straining against the fabric, and his hole was pouring slick to the extent that a puddle had formed under him. He felt so full, yet so empty. Helpless whimpers and cries escaped from his throat as he lay there, exhausted and stuffed.

Mr. Novak chuckled, the sound distant to Dean’s ears. Big hands manhandled him, hoisting him up onto his hip like a child. “Good boy,” Mr. Novak purred, the sound pouring itself into Dean’s ears and directly to his dick. “No one could satisfy you, could they? You needed more. Just as I thought.”

Dean leaned sleepily against Mr. Novak’s shoulder, absently grinding his erection into his side. The alpha started moving, leaving the office and heading out to the parking lot. “Need my bag,” Dean slurred, pointing towards the canvas tote leaned against the wall in the hallway. Mr. Novak stooped to grab it and continued on his way. Dean relaxed in relief, content to let him take him wherever.

The motion of walking was rubbing Dean against Mr. Novak’s side in a really pleasant way, and Dean ended up going stiff and coming halfway to the car. Warm wetness exploded against Mr. Novak’s side and arm, making him laugh. “Couldn’t hold it, could you,” he teased. “That’s alright. I want you to come as much as you like.”

They reached Mr. Novak’s car and he settled Dean in the passenger seat before rounding the front and sitting in the driver’s seat. He took a moment to regard Dean, limp and smiling dreamily.

“So,” he said. “Did I pass the audition?”

Dean dragged himself onto hands and knees and shuffled to slump against Mr. Novak’s side. “Hell yeah, Mr. Novak,” he said, rubbing his bloated belly.

“Call me Castiel.” And Castiel started the car. “Where to?”

“How ‘bout yours?”

Castiel grinned, sharp. “Excellent.”

Chapter Text

The car ride to Castiel’s place was a bit of a haze for Dean. The bellyfull of cum sparked arousal through his whole body, making every sensation pleasurable. The leather of the seats, the rumbling of the engine, even the slight breeze from the AC—everything felt so good. Plus, the entire car smelled like alpha, the scent having permeated every surface. Dean lolled his head on the headrest, smiling dopily. 

Castiel glanced over at him. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, smiling. 

Dean hummed in response, slipping a hand under his waistband to stroke himself. He was hard again, despite having come on the way to the car—his sex drive combined with the short refractory period and hair-trigger libidos of omegas in general made him insatiable. He fondled his small cock, fingers slipping through the slick and omega-cum that had accumulated throughout the day. 

Castiel reached over and removed Dean’s hand from his underwear. “No.”

Dean pouted, pressing his legs together in desperation. It was getting uncomfortable, all cold and sticky, making wet noises whenever he moved. The show of dominance from the alpha had made him squirt out even more omega-cum, adding to the mess. Judging by the way Castiel’s noise twitched, he could smell it.

“Such a filthy little omega,” he said. He bit his lip and took a hand off the steering wheel to unzip his pants. “You’re making me hard, you know. Are you proud of yourself?”

Dean watched, rapt, as the alpha took out his growing cock. He didn’t touch it, though, just rested it on his thighs and put his hands back on the steering wheel as he pulled onto a country road. It was so thick and long, and as the car filled with the smell of aroused omega, Dean could see it fill with blood and thicken even further. The huge balls it rested on were twitching and churning with more cum for Dean, just for Dean. He started drooling, saliva trickling down his chin. 

By the time they pulled up to a yellow cottage far from any other houses, Castiel’s cock was fully hard and leaking, and Dean was almost out of his mind with want. Castiel stopped the car and leaned back to close his eyes and breathe for a moment before opening the door and stepping out. Dean watched him round the car and open the passenger door, staring down at him with blown pupils. Of course, Dean was a little more preoccupied with the enormous, throbbing cock at eye level, dripping precum onto the dusty ground. Before he could do something like, say, lean forward and taste, though, Castiel leaned forward and scooped him up out of the car.

By the time Dean had processed what was going on, Castiel had reached the front door of the cottage and was unlocking it.

“Put me down!” he said, squirming. 

“No,” Castiel said. He got the door open, entered, and shut it behind him. He carried Dean through the front hallway into what must’ve been the living room, and the sudden influx of intense alpha scent made all of Dean’s protests fade away, replaced by eager grinding into the alpha’s side. Castiel smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

“Shut up,” Dean mumbled, face pressed into Castiel’s shoulder. He continued to move his hips in little hitching motions. “Feels good.”

“I bet it does. And you like to feel good, don’t you?” Castiel laid Dean down on the couch, tugging his soaked shorts and boxers down. “Let’s get these off of you, shall we?” He didn’t toss them aside like Dean might’ve—instead, he stood back up and headed out of the room. “I’ll just put these in the hamper and get a washcloth to clean you up a bit.”

Dean made to sit up, but the feeling of the puffy lips around his hole sliding together and squirting out more slick sent him back down onto his back. He didn’t want to get Castiel’s couch dirty.

Well. Hm. He kinda did, actually, if just to see what would happen. He bit his lip and sat up, spreading his legs and rocking forward to smear his slick on the leather. Fuck, that felt good. He leaned forward even more, bracing his weight on his arms in front of him. His dick hit the surface of the couch, and the impact sent sparks up his spine. He was so sensitive, now, surrounded by the potent scent of alpha. Fuck, what if…

Dean put his nose to the leather and inhaled. Sure enough, imbedded in it was the smell of a single alpha sitting there many times over. That is, the oil from the alpha’s mating gland had sunk deep into the leather, marking it. Maybe he’d sat here in his boxers, or even nude. Dean hummed in satisfaction and rubbed his cheek against it, thrusting his hips and reveling in the friction. His enjoyment was so great that he missed Castiel coming back.

That meant he had no warning for the hand that came down on the back of his skull, smushing his face into the couch cushions. 

A dark chuckle rumbled from above him, hot breath brushing his ear a moment later. “Such a little slut,” Castiel whispered. “You’ve gotten my sofa all messy. Your little cock make all your decisions for you?”

Dean bit his lip and rocked his hips into the leather again. He was used to comments on his promiscuity from friends and coworkers, but it was different delivered in Castiel’s low rasp. More slick trickled down his thighs.

The hand on his head grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back. “Now, I don’t want to reward you too much, so I won’t be fucking you today. But I do feel a measure of responsibility for your current state.” Castiel’s other hand snaked underneath him, feeling up his swollen belly, full of aphrodisiac alpha cum. “I’ll be letting you come, but you can’t use your hands.”

Dean frowned in confusion before he was yanked up off the couch. He swayed in place as Castiel swiftly wiped off the leather where Dean had dirtied it. Castiel then sat and guided Dean onto his lap, tugging his legs to straddle his thigh. 

“Rub yourself on my leg, baby,” he cooed. “I want to see you feel good.”

Dean hesitantly tilted his hips so his dick brushed against the fabric. His eyes fluttered shut and he braced his hands against Castiel’s shoulders as he began to rock back and forth. A shuddering breath shakes its way out of his lungs. “I’m—I’m gonna get your pants wet,” he said, weak.

Castiel just smiled and cupped his hand around the back of Dean’s head, bringing it in for a loose kiss. “Mm, that’s fine,” he said upon parting. “You can’t help it.”

Dean whimpered in agreement, hips increasing their pace. His mouth dropped open, panting into Castiel’s face. It felt so good to grind on the alpha’s thick thigh like this, wanton and wanting. It was so warm with life, the muscles bunching whenever Castiel shifted and pushing up into Dean’s crotch. 

As Dean brought himself closer to orgasm, Castiel kept up a steady stream of condescending encouragement. “Your little cock feels so good, doesn’t it?” he purred right into Dean’s ear. “Leaking all over the place like a good boy, so cute and pink. I knew you’d have a pretty cock when I saw you for the first time, but I thought such a darling little omega would already have an alpha. You proved me wrong, didn’t you? Dropping to your knees for the first alpha to look your way?”

Dean’s breath caught in his chest and his motions grew more frantic. He heard a high pitched whine—after a moment, he realized it was coming from him.

“Omega sluts like you need a good alpha to take care of you. It’s not your fault,” Castiel reassured, smiling gently. “I don’t think of you badly for it. Has anyone ever satisfied you before?”

Shame overtook Dean. He ducked his head to avoid Castiel’s gaze, face turning red. He shook his head.

“Shhh, that’s alright. Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart,” Castiel said, lifting Dean’s chin with a finger. “I’ll do my best, but you need to tell me when you need my cock, alright? You’re being punished for being messy right now, but as long as you’re a good boy, I’ll fuck you whenever you need it. And you do need it, don’t you? You need it so bad.”

Heat flushed through Dean’s entire body. His dick was so hard it hurt as he desperately rutted against Castiel’s leg. He bit his lip and looked away again.

“Say it, puppy,” Castiel said, deep and dark. He grabbed Dean’s chin, forcing him to look directly at him. “You need it. You need my cock.”

“Ah—ahhh!” Dean squeezed his eyes shut as a bolt of lust shot through him. His dick was drooling nonstop now, as wet as his hole. His body was going weak as his orgasm neared.

Castiel gave Dean’s chin a shake. “Say it.” His blue eyes were burning, boring a hole into Dean’s skull. “Say it. Be a good puppy for alpha, hm?”

Fuck. “I—I need you,” Dean gasped out as his orgasm washed over him. His whole body went limp. A gush of slick and omega-cum soaked the leg of Castiel’s slacks and poured onto the leather cushion underneath. 

Castiel watched Dean’s face intently. “Doesn’t that feel better,” he whispered.

Dean nodded weakly and collapsed onto Castiel’s chest. “D’sn’t feel like that wh’n mm alone,” he slurred.

Castiel chuckled and rubbed a big hand up and down Dean’s back. “Of course it doesn’t,” he said. “There’s a notable hormonal difference when orgasming in the presence of an alpha, even if the alpha is not directly contributing. There’s been studies.”

That was when Dean noticed that Castiel was still hard. His other hand was busy stroking up and down the long, thick shaft slowly, using Dean’s slick. Dean reached out but his hand was slapped away. 

“You’re still being punished, Dean,” Castiel said. “I am going to clean us up and take care of myself in the bathroom. You do not get to watch or listen, do you understand? You will watch something on the TV that I will pick out for you.”

Dean sighed in disappointment, staring at it longingly. Castiel’s balls, too, looked ready to explode, taut and red. Earlier, in the car, Dean had thought the cum in there was all for him. Now he was being told the cum would be wasted, flushed down the drain. He scowled.

“None of that.” Castiel scooped him up again, ignoring his protests. “Since you apparently cannot be trusted to be left on your own, I shall simply have to ensure you won’t misbehave.” He carried Dean down the hallway and into a tiled bathroom, standing him up in the tub. He fetched another washcloth from a drawer and ran it under the tap before wiping down Dean’s legs and groin. He tsk’ed as he did it, shaking his head. “So filthy,” he mused. “Still, I suppose I cannot hold you accountable. You are only an omega, after all.”

Dean submitted to the humiliating treatment with a red face, even when Castiel had him turn around and bend over so he could run the cloth between his cheeks. It took several long minutes for Castiel to deem him clean enough to return to the living room, but before he picked him up again, he bid him to stay in the tub for a moment.

“Do not play with yourself,” he said, eyebrows drawn together sternly. “I will know, and you will be punished accordingly.” WIth that, he disappeared, leaving Dean to contemplate his current situation.

He was stood in the tub of an alpha he barely knew, rocking the Winnie the Pooh look, having come twice just from rubbing against him. His stomach was still pooched out from the sheer volume of cum he’d swallowed after getting fucking mouth-knotted. The alpha, who’d turned him on like no one else had, was promising to fuck him whenever, wherever he wanted, as long as he was good. Whatever that meant.

Castiel wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever met. Everyone else, when they brought up how much he slept around, how easily he spread his legs or dropped to his knees, they were telling him to stop. ‘Omega slut’ was always derisive, but the way Castiel said it…he sounded fond, encouraging. And sure, he didn’t get his hole filled today, but Castiel did have to punish him for getting his couch dirty, after all.

If Dean was good, if he did what he was told, he could bet he’d get that beautiful cock in his hole soon enough. 

Footsteps heralded Castiel’s return to the bathroom. He appeared in the doorway and sniffed the air. He raised an eyebrow before setting a package down on the edge of the sink and grabbing Dean’s hands. He inspected them carefully; for slick, Dean figured. An approving smile curved at his lips. “Good boy.”

Dean preened at the praise. He’d did what he was told. He eyed the still flushed and hard cock bobbing between the alpha’s legs, licking his lips.

Castiel ignored him and turned around again to pick up the shape from the sink. He unraveled it, revealing it to be a pair of grey sweatpants wrapped around a pair of omega underpants, baby blue with thick padding along the undercarriage area.

“To keep you warm and to keep the sofa from getting dirty again,” Castiel said. He gave Dean another quick wipe between the legs with the washcloth before helping him into the panties and sweatpants. He patted him on the ass before picking him up and carrying him back to the living room.

He set Dean back down on the couch, away from the very obvious wet spot. Castiel wiped that down too, having brought the washcloth with him. “Such a dirty little omega,” he murmured, seemingly to himself. He smiled down at the wet cushion before grabbing a remote off of the side table and turning to face the TV. He switched it on, navigating to some nature documentary on Netflix. “You are going to watch this,” he said to Dean. “And you are going to be very good, yes? No touching yourself and making a mess. I will have towels to put down for the future, and you can rub your drooly little pussy on those all you want.”

If Castiel didn’t want him to touch himself, he was doing a pretty bad job on not making Dean want to. All the same, Dean grinned up at him, slumping and spreading his legs. “I promise, alpha.”

Castiel shook his head, lips twitching up at the corner. “My puppy is such a whore,” he said, and gripped his cock, still framed by his open slacks. He stroked it a few times, staring at Dean. He bit his lip before taking his hand off his cock and shaking his head. “I will see you soon, sweetheart,” he said, and left the room.

On the screen, the presenter started to talk about fucking bees, of all things. Dean slumped further and resigned himself to getting bored out of his mind while low moans and gasps and growls of “Dean…" echoed from the bathroom.

He dragged his bag over from where it had been dropped on the floor and fished his phone out. Don’t wait up, he sent to Benny. Scoring.

He tossed his phone back into his bag and threw his head back against the couch.

He was so fucked.

Chapter Text

When Dean woke up, he was disappointed to find the space in the bed next to him empty.

After the documentary and after Castiel very apologetically warmed leftovers in the microwave, he’d been bundled off to sleep in Castiel’s bed. It was a damn nice bed, too—soft but not too soft mattress, warm fluffy blankets, and sheets that didn’t feel like sandpaper. Exhausted from two orgasms, Dean had fallen asleep almost instantly.

But now it was morning, and Castiel was gone. Dean sat up and looked around, but was startled when Castiel returned through the door carrying a tray. He looked glad to see Dean up, smiling slightly and coming to stand at his side.

“I made breakfast,” he said. He set the tray down on Dean’s lap and sat down gingerly by his side. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I thought I’d go with the classics.”

On the tray was two slices of toast, one buttered and one spread with jelly, a pile of scrambled eggs, and a small mountain of bacon. Dean’s vision narrowed in on the bacon and he reached for it.

Much like yesterday in the car, Castiel stopped his hand. “I would like to feed you, if I may,” he said.

Dean squinted at him. “Do you have something against me using my hands?”

“It is arousing for me.”

Huh. “Well, go ahead, then.”

Castiel picked up the buttered toast and brought it to Dean’s mouth. He opened it, but Castiel didn’t wait for him to lean forward, instead pushing it close enough that, when Dean bit down, a decent chunk of bread ended up in his mouth. The rest of the slice proceeded in that manner—Castiel not allowed Dean to move other than to bite and chew. Any time he tried to move, whether forwards or away, Castiel made an unhappy noise and yanked him back into place by his hair. 

“Behave.”

Dean settled down after that, seeing that Castiel was pretty set on Dean following his orders. Some alphas, he knew, purposefully let their omegas break the rules (or didn’t tell them the rules at all) just to have an excuse to punish them. Castiel didn’t seem like that, though. The “rules” became clear almost from the start: no hands, no walking, stay still, and as soon as Dean even tried to break one of them, he stopped it.

It was kind of nice to just relax and let Castiel take charge. His whole life, he’d had to be in control. Feeding Sammy, squirreling away in abandoned houses, fighting off brutish alphas—none of that allowed for letting his guard down. But right now, he was being handfed by a hot alpha with the nicest cock he’d ever seen, who would outright refuse to let Dean do housework instead of making him.

He hoped Castiel would let him do housework sometimes, though. He liked cleaning. He surreptitiously glanced around the bedroom, trying to tell how tidy the alpha liked it. It was sparsely decorated, but cozily so, in shades of cream and blue. A few shelves held knick-knacks like a small plush bee and a painted flower pot. All in all, it was strangely effeminate for an alpha.

It was weird, but probably a good sign. An alpha not afraid of appearing weak was less prone to violence. Not that Castiel had shown any sign of being violent, other than a bit of hair pulling.

The toast disappeared, followed by the eggs and bacon. They were…fine. Dean could do better. He resolved himself to showing Castiel how to make the really good stuff, the way Sonny had taught him. As he swallowed the last bite, Castiel held him close and stroked his hair. 

“You’re so sweet,” he said. “I can’t believe no alpha’s claimed you yet.”

Dean snorted. “No alpha wants me,” he said dryly. He rolled his head away in shame. “Dirt poor, past my prime, hussy—”

“ I want you,” Castiel said, grabbing Dean’s chin. “I will not have you denigrate yourself. You are beautiful, hard-working, and intelligent. Do not make me punish you.”

Dean snapped his mouth shut. Mentally, he added another bullet point to his list of rules: no self-deprecation. After a moment of relaxing into Castiel’s arms, something occurred to him. “Castiel?”

“Yes?”

“Yesterday, you said that you’d fuck me whenever I needed it. What if I need it at work, and you’re not there? Or you are there, what will you do?”

Castiel’s chuckles reverberated through him. “My other accounting work can be done from anywhere,” he said. “I plan to accompany you every day, and work in my office in the back. Hannah can handle any work that cannot be done remotely.” 

“So, if I get horny at work, I’ll just go to your office?”

“Exactly.”

Dean bit his lip, imagining going about his business at work, and occasionally ducking into the back to get fucked and knotted whenever he wanted. “Won’t Gabriel mind?”

One of Castiel’s big hands stroked down his chest. “I’ve already spoken to him. He knows you need special treatment. Besides, your coworkers are capable of picking up the slack.”

“I don’t need special treatment.”

The hand on his chest continued downwards and landed on his crotch. It squeezed and massaged the small bulge there, making Dean’s hips buck into the stimulation. “Don’t you, sweetheart? You’re an omega, after all. You need to be filled up with lots of alpha cum.”

“Samandriel’s an omega, and he doesn’t get to duck out whenever he likes,” Dean pointed out.

Castiel smiled. “Samandriel is a cousin of ours,” he said. “He’s sterile, I’m afraid. Those instincts and needs are simply absent in him.”

“A sterile omega? I didn’t know that was possible.” Dean leaned his head back, peering at Castiel. “And how many cousins do you even have?”

“It is, and a lot. Our family is very large and very wealthy.” Castiel slipped his hand beneath Dean’s waistband, petting at his dick and then moving on to stroke at his entrance with a finger. “We’re the black sheep, as it were, the ones with little to no interest in the family business.”

Dean rocked his hips, trying to force the finger inside. He scrambled for his train of thought. “Are—ah! Are you the mob, Cas?”

Castiel’s hand stopped. Against Dean’s back, his chest shook with suppressed laughter. “Me, personally? No.”

“But your family is.”

“If you’re asking this many questions, I must not be doing my job correctly.” Castiel’s finger finally pushed in, Dean’s wet heat swallowing it eagerly. His walls clenched down, trying to suck it in deeper. 

“Don’t think you’re—ngh, ah, fuck—getting out of this so easily,” Dean panted. “Oh, god, more.”

“More?” Castiel teased a second finger at his entrance. “Say please.”

“ Please!”

“Good boy.” The second finger, too, slid in easily. Castiel pumped his fingers in and out slowly, hooking them to drag against Dean’s slick gland. “How about your family? Cousins, siblings?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Dean said with feeling. “Oh, oh god, uh, no cousins that I know of, ah! A brother.”

Castiel’s other hand joined the party, enveloping Dean’s dick and squeezing lightly. “A brother? Older or younger? Younger, I’d assume.”

“Alpha! Fuck, oh god—”

“What’s his name?”

“Sammy—fuck—dunno where he is—Cas, I really don’t wanna talk about my brother when—ah!—when you’re fingering me.”

Dean felt the curve of Castiel’s smile against his neck. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Dean flushed at Castiel’s quiet laughter. “Fuck you.”

“I’m glad you don’t want me to stop. I don’t want to stop, either. Your pussy feels so good around my fingers. So soft and wet. I can’t wait to see what it feels like around my cock. You want me to knot you, puppy?”

Dean felt lightheaded with lust. “Oh, god, please,” he moaned. 

Castiel’s fingers pressed deep into his hole, thrusting and twisting. The hand on his dick stroked up and down, almost soothingly. “I can’t knot you this morning, I’m afraid,” he said. “We can’t have you going to work all messy. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Dean whined in frustration. 

“I know, I know,” Castiel said. “After work, I promise. I’m going shopping for supplies today.”

“You could fuck me but not knot me,” Dean suggested hopefully.

“I doubt I have the self-control for that.”

Dean sighed and resigned himself to another day of sexual frustration. When his orgasm finally washed over him, small cock twitching and spurting clear fluid over his stomach, Castiel removed his hands from his briefs and stood up. 

“Would you like a ride back to your apartment, so you can get ready for work?” Castiel asked, already fetching his keys from his bedside table.

Dean swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood up, grumbling. “Fine.” He pointed at the alpha. “But you better fuck me real good and hard after work, yeah?”

Dean’s roommates didn’t bother interrogating him about his supposed hookup, used to him disappearing without a word after work. The subsequent work day was excruciatingly long, stretched out by the promise of a good knot afterwards. Resentful of having to wait, Dean flirted with every alpha to walk in the door, allowing them to grope him and smack his ass, getting their scent all over him. 

In slower moments, he fantasized. Castiel would take him to meet his friends—all hot, of course—and Dean would get horny while they chatted. He’d ask to be fucked, and Castiel would bend him over a table and stuff his enormous cock into Dean’s hole, fucking him nice and hard while he kept talking to his friends. He’d knot Dean and sit back down, pulling him onto his lap. Cas’s friends would ask how many times Dean got knotted a day, and Cas would tell them all about how Dean was a slut and needed to be knotted as often as possible for his health.

Cas’s friends would nod, impressed. They’d agree that omegas need a nice, fat cock filling them up at all times. 

Dean glanced desperately at the clock. It was almost closing. Like most days, his shorts were soaked, slick coating the insides of his thighs. When Cas picked him up, he’d basically be able to slide his cock right in. 

When the clock finally struck 8, he practically threw his apron off as he hurried outside. Cas was waiting at the curb in his dinky little car. Dean fumbled for the handle and fell inside, smashing his lips against Cas’s.

“Alpha,” he moaned. He fisted his hands in Cas’s shirt, pulling him closer. 

Castiel opened his mouth into the kiss, deepening it. The two of them made out for a few minutes before Cas pushed Dean back slightly. “Someone’s happy to see me,” he said. He sniffed the air and his eyebrows raised. “Hm.”

Before Dean could respond, Castiel began undressing Dean, pulling his shirt over his head and tugging off his shorts. Dean lifted his hips to comply, bewildered. “Wha?”

“You smell like other alphas,” Cas said, scowling. “I refuse to sit next to that stench. I am going to put your clothes in the trunk and then mark you.”

“Mark me?” Dean watched Cas leave the car and head ‘round to the back, popping open the trunk. When Cas had closed the trunk again and returned to his seat, unbuttoning his pants, Dean understood. “Oh, mark me.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said, and shoved his pants down to his knees. 

Dean eyed the soft, heavy cock hanging between the alpha’s legs. It was just as he remembered—as thick and long as his forearm, if not more, with a grapefruit-sized sack throbbing underneath. Once Castiel was knotting Dean regularly, his balls would likely swell even more, doubling in size. It happened to all mated alphas; once their body got the memo that there was an omega to breed, cum production went way up. Just as there were maternity clothes for pregnant omegas, there were particular cuts of pants for mated alphas.

Castiel lifted his cock and grabbed the back of Dean’s head, pulling his face forward to rub against his balls. The powerful musk of an alpha’s claim pervaded Dean’s senses, making him feel faint. Castiel continued to rub Dean’s face across his balls and cock possessively for a few more seconds before releasing him and tucking himself back into his pants. He sniffed the air again. “There,” he said, satisfied. “You smell like mine, now.”

Dean swayed, woozy. “Fuck, Cas,” he breathed. He licked his lips, chasing the scent. 

Cas started the car and pulled away from the curb. “Have you never been marked before?”

“Not…not like that. Alphas only really do the full marking when they plan to stick around. They’ll do the whole…stick their hand in their pants and then rub it on me, though, to flirt.”

Cas shook his head in disapproval. “I assume that’s why you stunk like a whorehouse?”

Dean grinned, catching his lip in his teeth. “Maybe,” he said. 

“I assume you felt it acceptable to let other alphas mark what’s mine only because I have not knotted you yet. After today, there will be none of that, yes?” Castiel looked over at him once they hit a red light, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, alpha,” Dean said. That was exactly what he’d hoped for.

The air in the car grew thicker and thicker as they drove on. By the time they reached the edge of town, where the roads dropped in quality, Dean was fidgeting in his seat and Cas had undone his pants again to ease the pressure on his erection.

The two of them stumbled out of the car and raced each other to the door once they’d arrived at Castiel’s little yellow cottage, the alpha’s cock bobbing comically as he ran. He hastily unlocked the door and whirled the two of them inside, slamming the door shut behind them. 

Dean took off running down the hallway towards the bedroom, still stark naked and dripping slick. Castiel charged after him, catching up only after he’d sprawled across the bed and lifted his hips in the air, presenting. Cas’s hands landed on his hips, fingers digging in firmly as he hauled him down the bed.

Dean grinned into the blankets, wiggling his ass in the air. Castiel rumbled in amusement, stroking a big hand down a cheek and between Dean’s legs, brushing at the wetness there. A moment later, the broad, firm plane of Castiel’s front draped over Dean’s back and something huge prodded at his entrance. Dean had a moment of doubt—could it really fit with no stretching, barely any foreplay?

Castiel’s cock pushed inexorably in, forcing itself past the initial tightness of Dean’s underdeveloped vulva and into the silky drenched heat of his channel. He felt a little like he was going to explode, he was so full. He adjusted so his weight was held up by his left arm and head, and reached under with his right to feel at his stomach. Sure enough, he could feel the distention of his belly caused by the intrusion. 

“Fuck, Cas, feel,” he gasped, flailing to grab a hold of him. Cas let himself be guided to cup Dean’s lower belly, and as soon as he processed what Dean was showing him, a deep growl built up in his chest. His big hand pressed firmly into Dean’s skin as he thrusted in again, hard and deep. The breath was punched out of Dean’s lungs and the arm holding him up gave out, dumping him face-first onto the mattress. Open-mouthed, he moaned wantonly into the sheets. “Hng—Alpha!”

“Good puppy,” Cas said, his already husky voice dropping an octave. “Such a tight, wet hole. So hungry for my cock.” He punctuated his statement with another hard thrust, shoving Dean up the bed slightly. Embarrassingly, he could hear the squelch of slick as Castiel’s cock moved in and out of him, dripping onto his thighs. 

“Alpha, faster,” Dean begged, drooling. He did his best to shove his hips back to meet Cas’s movements, desperate for more, more, more.

Castiel grabbed Dean’s hips, stilling them. “Manners, puppy.”

“Please!”

“Good.” Castiel slammed back in, drew back in, slammed back in—over and over and over, each time either brushing against or slamming his slick gland. Dean swore he saw stars. 

“Ah! Alpha, alpha, Cas! Fuck, please—”

“Please what, puppy?” Cas’s hand left his belly and landed on the back of his neck, squeezing. “Do you want more? Greedy slut.”

“Yes, please, I’m a slut, I’m your slut, knot me!” Dean grabbed at the blankets, clenching them in his fists. He could feel the already huge cock splitting him open start to swell at the base. He’d already had it in his mouth, but now he needed it plugging his hole as the alpha drained himself into his belly. “Knot me, please, alpha!” 

Castiel leaned on the hand on the back of Dean’s neck, pushing him further into the mattress as the alpha’s strong, lean body draped over his back. Each thrust was coming slower, now, but Castiel was shoving every inch of his fat cock into Dean’s hole, all the way to the hilt. Dean felt a little like he did after overeating—foggy headed and deeply, achingly full. He could feel every movement, hot rigid flesh dragging in and out through his guts, making way for the knot growing at the base. Wet, squelching noises punctuated every snap of Castiel’s hips.

Hot breaths gusted on the back of his neck. “Feel so good,” Castiel groaned, long and low. “Fuck. Such a hot, tight hole. Soaking wet, too. Fuck.” He slowed his pace even more, barely retreating, grinding more than thrusting. His knot was huge—Dean could only feel it, not see it, but he’d bet good money it was the size of his fist. He had no idea how anyone had ever taken it before. Dean was a massive whore with a hole stretched out from years of vigorous fuckings, but Cas was calling him tight. He opened his mouth to say as much, but all that came out was a garbled whine. Castiel chuckled and patted his thigh with the hand not holding him down. “Relax, puppy, let me in. You want my knot?”

Dean flexed his channel around Cas’s shaft, eliciting a choked-out noise of pleasure. “Want it so bad, alpha,” he moaned. “Wanna be full.” He desperately shoved his hips back, trying to force the knot inside his hole. Cas rocked with him, though, laughing at him. 

“It’s okay, puppy, come on. Let me help you,” he cooed. He slid both of his arms underneath Dean’s torso and sat back, lifting Dean into a kneeling position. “Come on, sit on your alpha’s knot. We want it nice and deep inside you, don’t we?” He pulled down on Dean’s shoulders and lifted his hips at the same time, pressing his huge knot—could it be bigger than his fist?—hard against the sticky wet lips around his hole. “Come on, bounce.”

Dean lifted himself up with trembling thighs and dropped down, a gasp punching out of him as he felt the knot shove partially in. He bit his lip and tried again, and again, and again.

“That’s it,” Castiel whispered into his ear. “You’re so close. You feel so good, don’t you?”

Dean could only whine and grind helplessly down onto the knot. 

“Alright, a big lift up, puppy, okay?” Castiel helped him rise again, holding him by the armpits. “You’re doing so well.” And then he dropped him.

A scream tore its way out of his throat as the enormous knot finally popped past the tightness of his entrance into the much roomier channel beyond. Roomy for a more reasonably-endowed alpha, at least. Castiel’s sheer size meant the knot left no space around it, weighing heavily on Dean’s slick gland. His eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth hung slack, drool trickling from his lips. 

Every nerve in his body was alight with ecstasy. Every time he moved even the slightest fraction of an inch, the cock inside him scraped along a new nerve and sent him into cascades of pleasure. He was barely even aware of the mass of cum being pumped into his belly, lost as he was. The only reason he was upright was because of Castiel holding him, strong arms bracing him as he himself orgasmed. 

Castiel did, of course, enjoy his orgasm immensely. The soft, silky walls of Dean’s insides squeezing and caressing his cock and knot was nothing short of blissful. But, if he had been asked, the true pleasure was the feeling of finally fully draining his balls into a willing and beautiful omega—Dean, no less, the same omega he’d been admiring for months. The weeks and weeks of fantasizing had led to him being quite pent up, and no amount of masturbation ever quite emptied his balls fully. Not even knotting Dean’s mouth.

Now, though—it was an incredible relief to relax and let every drop of creamy white cum fill up Dean’s belly. He sighed and reached around to stroke at Dean’s much smaller dick. The cute little thing was twitching and spurting little streaks of clear omega-cum. He enveloped it in his hand and squeezed it gently, making Dean cry out again and his channel squeeze. Castiel grunted and released another load of cum, humping his hips into Dean’s rear as he lost himself in the pleasure of it again.

Dean lolled his head back to rest on Castiel’s shoulder. Stars sparked in his vision. He tried to gather his sense to say something, anything, like ‘fuck that was good,’ or ‘thank you,’ even. He panted insensately for a moment, before licking his lips and croaking, “Best fuck I’ve ever had.”

He felt a puff of air against his ear as Castiel huffed a laugh. “Best you’ll ever have again,” he said, and squeezed Dean’s dick again, twisting at the top. 

Dean arched his back, which only served to grind the knot inside him even harder against his slick gland. He sobbed and collapsed fully against Castiel. Beyond the sparks skittering along his veins, he could hear Castiel moan in his ear again and jerk his hips before another flood of hot cum forced its way into him. His stomach was beginning to cramp with the sheer volume of it, much more than when he’d gotten mouth-knotted, and much more than he’d ever gotten from random bar alphas. 

When Castiel was done with that load, he started to roll them onto their sides for more comfort. The process inevitably pulled at the knot, sending Dean into near-hysterics, shrieking and spurting omega-cum. Castiel tried to soothe him, stroking a hand down his side, but wasn’t much better himself as Dean’s jerky motions tore orgasm after orgasm out of him. 

By the time they were settled and spooning, Dean was limp and barely responded to Castiel’s attempts to rouse him. His face was a mess of tears, sweat, and spittle. His little cock was soft and soaking wet with evidence of his pleasure. And, most beautifully to Castiel, his belly was packed firm with cum, swelling out onto the bed in one smooth curve. He reached down and cupped it, lifting the weight from the mattress. The feeling of the smooth, silky flesh heaped in his hand sent a bolt of arousal through him, swelling his knot from where it had gone down some and pumping the last load of cum he had left deep into Dean’s belly. Being the dregs, it was thick, and he could feel it surge through and pour from his cock in slow, creamy pulses. He swore he could feel it bulge out Dean’s poor, abused belly even more. 

“That’s it,” he murmured into Dean’s ear. “Are you full enough? Is this what you wanted?” 

Dean’s only response was a low moan and a hard clench on the knot in his hole. 

“Good boy. Nice and full. Go to sleep now, sweetheart.” Castiel rubbed at the taut flesh beneath his hand. “I’ll make sure you’re never empty again.”